nostalgic mannerisms

the nostalgic yet lighthearted manner in which Taylor voices the line “I do remember the swing of your step, the life of the party, you’re showing off again” so beautifully reminisces on the more candid, magical moments in time, whilst still holding such poignance; much like capturing a blurry photograph of someone on film as they’re laughing too hard and smiling too much to notice, then being able to physically hold onto that memory forever.

the PERKYGOTH manifesto

Right! Here we go! It seems, that in these passing times, it has become fashionable, nay, perhaps even *scoff!* required of goths very much like ourselves that they reflect upon life itself with the most cynical and morose of countenances. We, the Perkygoths of the world, stand in the face of this, and reclaim our heritage as follows!

1 » We realize, and perhaps even declare publicly, the simple fact our attire and decorative tastes and downright silly, yet in the face of this impractical and sometimes even inconvenient nature of things, we LAUGH! Yes, all those skirts make the boys have to piss like girls, but hey! it contributes toward greater understanding between the sexes!

2 » There is no “standard” behaviour or code of any sort for member of the so-called “underground”, you silly gits! Why, who ever thought of anything so bleeding preposterous?! If i want to skip across the dance floor to see a friend, well damn it all, i’m going to! And about that smile i was wearing last week at the club, yes, it was mine! No, my mother did not make me wear it!

3 » Um, just cause i look like a goth right this very instant does not preclude me not looking like a goth sometime tomorrow, after the shock and horror of this realization passes by, you will note that it’s actually quite fun to inject a little variety into things.

4 » On that note, neither are we required to listen solely to goth, death rock, or darkwave. We are, however, allowed to physically assault the next person who scowls at us for slapping that p-funk, hard techno, or riot grrrl record on the turntable immediately after playing the sisters or somesuch.

4.5 » And while i’m thinking about it, we’re also allowed to clobber anyone at a club who whines about the dj playing too much goth and not enough deathrock or something of that ilk.

5 » But, if there’s one thing we mustn’t ever do, under any circumstances, it is lord our knowledge over that of others. If there is a sin, dear Perkygoths, it is self-righteousness and pomposity. We simply mustn’t go out and wave all that nifty info we just read out of good old Mr. Mercer’s handy-dandy goth guide as if we had known it all along. Cause face it, most of us weren’t even there when half of that stuff happened. (There are exceptions, of course, but they aren’t allowed to lord their knowledge either, nor are they suppose to reflect in a nostalgic and whiny manner).

6 » Oh! Right! Back to Perky! Um, stomping in mud puddles is perfectly acceptable. Dancing and realizing that you look like a complete idiot is heartily encouraged. Continuing to dance, no matter how many other people are also noting that you look like an idiot, is even more heartily encouraged. Remember kids, the look or the lifestyle? The lifestyle, of course, you’re a Perkygoth. Don’t just look like a looney, act like one! It’s much more fulfilling than primping in a mirror all night.

7 » Um, i forgot the rest. Probably didn’t even think of them to begin with. i’ve prolly lied about everything so far. Uh, am i getting paid to do this? What was i saying?

7.5 » Just remember, fun is your middle name, or at least it;s somewhere in your vocabulary. Whatever you’re doing, think to yourself: “am i having FUN?” If no, time to do something else. A short attention span means you don’t have time to get bored and mope!

let this be our rallying cry!

“DO NOT STAND IN OUR WAY! WE WILL WALK AROUND YOU!”

The Proposal Part 7

Originally posted by emreturkmen

The Proposal Masterlist

(HAPPY 37TH BIRTHDAY TO THE GUBE OMG I LOVE HIM AND THANK GOD FOR HIM AND CRIMINAL MINDS EVERYDAY. I was rushing to post this so it might be terrible)

Contains: Angst

(only 2 more parts- technically 1 if you don’t count the epilogue)

@sonnyalice: SPENCER WHAT THE HELL CASH ME THE FUCK OUTSIDE HOWBOW DAT

Anonymous: I AM SHOOK ABOUT PT 6 PLEASE RESOLVE THIS IM YELLING

Anonymous: Holy heck! Spencer no!!!! Gosh we need part 7 of the proposal asap!

-

Awkward was one way to put your relationship with Spencer. Other words to fill that category was weird, lonely and depressing. You longed for him to just talked to you or…something.

Spencer was barely acknowledging your presence, and you were lucky that he was even sticking around. Why? You weren’t really sure. Maybe he was still guilty about your father.

It seemed his presence was hurting you more then helping you. Your heart ached every time he walked past you, heart still fluttering whenever he accidentally touched you. At least at work he was behind the doors and you could serve without worrying that you were going to bump into him.

Your lovesick disease only seemed to get worse when Spencer announced he was going to be spending nights with /her/ and sneaking in early in case your mother came back around. Apparently you repulsed him to the core so much that he couldn’t even sleep in the same area as you.

At the moment, you were staring out the window of the living room, hating yourself. More so for the fact that you looked like Bella Swan from the second twilight movie. Well, it was a close second.

“Why are you moping about? Haven’t you heard I’m back?” A familiar voice made you jump, wrapping your arms around your sister’s frame. “That’s more like it Y/n!” She laughed, her arms sliding around to meet your back.

“I totally forgot that you were coming back this week!  I’ve just had so much on my mind lately!” You tried explaining.

“I bet! Wedding aren’t easy to plan you know! Take it from me, I just had one… So, how are you and your fiancée?” She made her way through the house, seeming to inspect it for something.

“Uh, yeah, about that…” You started, trying to figure out how to tell her about everything without seeming like a jerk that was lying to your father and stealing your sisters spotlight.

“Let’s not talk about this in here, c'mon, let’s do something fun….like shopping, or drinking.” She waggled her brows, shooing you to grab your purse. You forgot how eccentric your sister was. You weren’t sure how much you missed that certain feature.

After what your sister like to call “Treat yourself- bride edition”, she made you wear one of the outfits out of the store and wear it out. You had no idea what game she was trying to play, but you knew she was up to something. Especially when she brought you to a bar. Sure, she enjoyed a glass of wine every now and then but had said multiple times that he was not an avid enthusiast for bars. More so now then ever because she was married and guys would be trying to hit on her all night.

“Alright, answer some of my questions. How is Spencer? How are you?” She asked when the both of you were situated with your drinks. You spun your stirrer straw slowly, stumbling around on trying to form a sentence.

“Do you remember Mattie Noel?” You asked, and she nodded, eyes squinting with suspicion. “She's…tried latching her hooks onto him.” You put it out there as best as you could, watching as she moved her hand in a dismissive way. “Spencer only has eyes for you, trust me. Don’t worry about that bitch.” You almost laughed at how ironic that sentence was, taking a large gulp of your drink. After some more minutes of conversation, someone’s phone started to ring loudly.

“Oh shoot, I think that’s me.” Your sister set her drink down, digging through her purse, stopping and wincing. “Y/n, I think I left my phone at your house when I came to pick you up!” Your sister slapped her face, zipping back up her purse. “What if it’s (h/h/n)? It’s it okay if we head back to the guest house?”

“Oh yeah, of course.” You placed done your drink, standing up and pretending to dust yourself off. You weren’t really feeling the scene anyways, bars never really being your thing.

The drive was filled with your sister filling you in on her honeymoon, literally, /everything// about her honeymoon, talking about future plans and trying to ask about you and Spencer. You tried avoiding most of the questions, and it seemed to work.

“Alright, let’s go.” You stated once you pulled up to the driveway in front of the guest house. You thought you saw a light turn off and you shook your head, thinking you must be finally losing it.

“Um. I’m not exactly sure where you left it but feel free to- AH!” You fell back into the wall as you opened the door and flipped the light switch only to be met with about 15 pairs of eyes. “What the- W-what the…” Your own orbs were wide and brows furrowed. Your sister laughed, patting your shoulder reassuringly.

“Surprise! It’s your bridal shower!” She bounced excitedly, leading you over to a chair. You started to recognize your friends from back home, your mother, your sister and a few friends from the restaurant.

“This really wasn’t necessary…” You mumbled, stumbling a bit. “Really. I don’t deserve your gifts.” You waved your friends off, cheeks pinking. If they only knew how much you really didn’t deserve this.

“Here, open mine first!” Your sister thrusted a bright pink box into your lap, and you almost rolled your eyes at the obnoxious color but opened it nonetheless. Through the hours, you opened all the gifts (some more appropriate then others), drank some wine, and failed to notice your mother’s quietness.

“There’s still one more gift! It’s from mom!” Your sister cried, bringing out the last wrapped box. Your mother’s face seemed to pale and she opened her mouth to say something when your sister interrupted her. “I saw it hidden in the closet and figured you must have forgot about where you put it. It was no problem really. Now, c'mon y/n, open it up.”

After taking off the bright paper and the Macy’s box that your mother used for every holiday box, you were met with a book, a picture of Spencer on one knee at your sister’s wedding, when you forced him to propose to you on the top. “What’s this?” You softly asked, fingers rubbing Spencer’s frame over the plastic covering.

“It’s not that big of a deal, I was just digging through the basement and some old pictures came up. Add those with the ones I’ve been taking of the two of you and….” Her sentence faded out as you started flipping through the pages.

Pictures of you and Spencer as toddlers, chubby limbs wrapped up in each other. As little kids, reading or “cooking”. Spencer trying to teach you how to play chess when you were 12, always losing because you believed the pawns were more important then any other piece. Rare visits to Caltech when you were both 14, both awkward and gangly. Pictures of you at Spencer’s graduation and vice-versa. The pictures didn’t pick back up until the wedding, a few candid shots, pictures of you both working at the restaurant and sitting on the couch when you were watching Star Wars. Lastly, the proposal once more, zoomed in on both your faces. Even though you had just shoved him on the ground exactly 2 seconds earlier, Spencer looked focused, and your fake smile looked genuine.

“I cant do this anymore.” You whispered, shocking yourself when a tear landed on the scrapbook page. “I’m so sorry. You guys…” You got up, rushing out of the room, the cold air kissing your face once you escaped through the front door.

“Hon! Honey! Come back!” Your mother called after you, following you outside. “Y/n, baby, I know.” You looked up at her, tears pricking the edge of your eyes.

“You know? You know that this whole thing was fake?” You asked, throwing up your arms in the air. If your mother could see it, then everyone else probably knew too. God, this whole thing was so stupid. Why did the idea even pop into her head?

“I saw him making out with another girl while I was trying to book a wedding venue.” Your mom explained, hand coming up to cup your cheek. Your own hand came to pinch the bridge of your nose.

“No mom, I have to be honest with you, this whole marriage was a sham. I forced Spencer to propose to me.” She stepped back, head cocking to the side and brows raising. “Dad said he wished he could have two daughters married….” You explained, and your mother seemed to understand.

“Darling, he didn’t mean it in this way..” She engulfed you in a hug, kissing the top of your head. “You’re still in love with him aren’t you? You have been since before you knew what love was.” She asked and you nodded, cries beginning, thankful that they were slightly muffled.

“It’s okay honey, let it all out.”

-

(3rd Person POV)

Overtime, your comments really started to bug Spencer. Your tone, your bitter words, kept repeating in his mind and for the millionth time he wished that he didn’t have an eidetic memory. He couldn’t believe you had spoken to him that way. You had never expressed that type of rage before.

He had known you for practically his entire life and you had never steered him wrong, always being the person to try and draw him out of his shell. Always his defender, his best friend until you two had started drifting apart after you graduated and he joined the FBI. Even then, you would try to call once every month, trying to keep updated with him, his life, job, mother, etc.

Spencer usually had a good intuition about people, and Mattie seemed lovely enough, so why would Y/n tell him all those awful things about the woman he had start to care for?

“You know, Y/n told me that you used to know each other in high school. What was that like? Were you guys friends?” He tried to subtly press the subject. Mattie laughed, taking a sip of her drink and leaning her head on her hand, eyes slightly glossing over in a nostalgic manner.

“Well, I used to pick on her.” She shrugged, taking a bite of her food like what she had just said was nothing. “I mean, she deserved right?” Spencer was in the middle of picking up his glass to take a sip when he stopped at her remark.

“What do you mean by that?” Mattie seemed confused that she was even asked a question like that but out of the corner of her mind, she remembered that someone like him didn’t attend their high school.

“She was like a blister, ugly to look at, you know. She always had to let everyone know how she was smarter then everyone else. She didn’t let me cheat or anything and… well, just annoying really. She hasn’t changed much since high school.” Spencer seemed to stare at her for what felt like an eternity.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” Mattie’s brows raised. “I mean, you’ve known her for a little while right? Isn’t she just…annoying? I mean, she asked you to marry her because she’s too pathetic to find herself an actual fiancé.” Spencer couldn’t believe the words he was hearing, and had to stop his jaw from dropping. It all made sense now, everything you said!

“Oh my- I actually defended you against her! I’m so stupid, I should have known Y/n would never lie to me! She never has before!” Spencer stood up, running his hands over his face angrily. “You…I can’t even come up with any words to describe a snake like you!” He stormed off, already trying to work on how to fix everything he did.

“Does this mean we’re breaking up?” She screeched, and Spencer ignored her, running outside to hail a cab. He quickly dialed your number and the call ended up going straight to voicemail. A second and third time, voicemail. Either something was wrong or you were still pissed off. Yo had every right to be. Oh god, why didn’t he listen to you?!

After yelling your address to the cab driver, he dialed Morgan, quickly explaining everything that had developed recently. Being Spencer’s friend, Morgan tried not to judge too harshly, but couldn’t help the exasperated sigh that escaped his mouth as he said, “Sounds like she’s in love with you, you idiot. You don’t even have to be a profiler to figure that one out buddy.”

“Well- I- I- Uh-” Spencer stumbled a bit, his brain fried. “Spencer,’ his friend scolded through the phone speaker. How do you feel about Y/n?” Morgan was met with silence and he sighed. “What I mean is…. can you be yourself around Y/n? Do you think about her when she isn’t in the room? How would you feel if she had asked someone else to be in your shoes hm?” Spencer stayed quiet for another moment.

If I’m honest, I’m more comfortable with her then anyone, even you guys. I think about her a lot, although recent thoughts weren’t exactly….romantic. If she had asked someone else,’ Spencer whistled lowly. “I wouldn’t have…I… I don’t like that question. She asked me, that’s that.” He answered, brows furrowing when he heard his friends laughter on the other end of the line.

“Then she’s the one. Simple as that. ”

“I…have to go. I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up when he saw your house approaching in the window of the cab, exiting the vehicle and throwing a random wad of cash at the driver, bolting for the guest house. He fumbled with the keys before finally opening the door.

“Y/n! Y/n!” He yelled throughout the guest house, realizing you were gone. He ran over to the main house, which was locked, and looked through all the windows like a mad man. He dialed your number 2 more times and grunted loudly when your automated voice message met his ears instead of your voice. His phone rang just before he was able to dial your number again, and he immediately answered it. “Y/n?”

“Her mother.” An unamused voice greeted his ears. “Listen, before you say another word, Y/n’s father is at the hospital, not that you seem to care. Hopefully I haven’t interrupted your making out sessions hm? Anyways, just figured I’d let you know since you seemed so eager to be a part of this family…” Your mother snapped, hanging up.

The hospital?

“Oh no..” He mumbled dialing for a cab, only thinking of you.

@crowleyshellhoundproductions  @xinhaleredveinsx @clairese1980 @nerdaspe @valynsia

all i want from episode 8 is leia and lando drinking corellian wine and mourning their mutual ex-husband the only way they know how… by just talking shit about how he never did the dishes or how he left his underwear lying around everywhere in a loving and nostalgic manner

“Déjà vu.” Gage murmured under his breath as he climbed familiar sands. It… felt the same as he remembered it and, judging by Sacha’s innate need to bathe in it like a chinchilla, it appeared similar too. Speaking of looking… “Sacha. I need you here, not buried.”

‘I’m having fun!’ The elf beeped back, trying to annoy the elder of the two. Arguing was not in his task list, especially today out of all days!

“Hnn–! Fine! I can do this on my own then!” There he goes acting childish again. Sacha hardly acknowledged what Gage said before the huffy little elf began blindly scouring the landscape for some stabilization. His tiny elven hands met the smooth surface of a boulder poking out of the landscape, stopping Gage in his tracks as he calculated his next lateral movement.

He did what any reasonable, normal functioning being would do: scale the rock.

It didn’t take long for the small elf to reach the top, thanking himself for condensing his form enough to store some energy away. This was more exhausting than he remembered! Nevertheless, Gage took a small repose when he finished, mining whatever data he could from his remaining senses.

He was hoping there was something out there, something he’d been looking for: A reunion? An apology? A mistake? Closure? He was unsure. The thought was beautiful yet terrifying- akin to a dream settled amongst sharks. He felt at home despite the sensation of wanting to crawl out of his nonexistent skin overtaking him.

After a satisfying cooldown, Gage withdrew from his perch. What he didn’t expect was pulling downwards as his foothold slipped from under him and he cracked his chin against the boulder. For a second he contemplated yelping, but instead cursed under his breath.

Well. It was his own fault. He knew very well he couldn’t see without Sacha’s eyes and now he was paying the price in a nostalgic manner. Couldn’t be mad at anyone other than…the rock. Stupid rock.

@nixlight

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The Fall Of Troy - Chapter III: Nostalgic Mannerisms