- take spontaneous road trips
- visit as many galleries as possible
- go on adventures
- avoid my phone and social media
- drive down long roads listening to music
- do the thing where you play with the wind out of your car window
- party and socialise
- never stop listening to melodrama
- have a summer romance
- enjoy nature more
- take as many walks as possible
- visit new places
- buy a cheap vintage camera and document every single thing
- summer night walks
- watch as many sunsets/sunrises as i can
- be less anxious and more daring
- make this summer one worth remembering so i can talk about it for years and compare every other summer to it knowing none of them come close
I finally found the time to upload a chapter in between the 11 other things I’ve got going on right now. One would think I’d spend my summer doing things I can put on my CV… but instead I’m recording a fanfiction podcast and writing fanfiction. Whoops! Either way, enjoy this chapter, my darlings!
The fifth part of The Tower was awesome, omg! I love how you compared Loki’s mind/emotions to a pond, that was amazing.
Can you tag me in the tower? There aren’t nearly enough Loki Fics and yours is truly amazing.
Can you please tag me in the next parts of The Tower? Your writing is So o amazing! I love it!
Amid your dreams, you felt a sudden pressure on your chest
that was heavy as an anvil. It felt like a paperweight on your lungs, thinning
each breath and making it exponentially harder with each inhale. Slowly, as you
came around though, the anvil’s weight was alleviated and your respiratory
The world was murky and a deep, dark crimson. Something
about the bitter taste in your mouth and the ache in your jaw indicated that
you had slept intensely, and for quite some time, though you couldn’t count the
hours at the moment. You managed to pry your eyelids apart despite how they protested
and in your attempt to sit up, you felt a small pain in your leg. Lifting your
skirt, you examined your wound to see that it looked-
Kid has a “Things I Need to do Before Screen Time” chart for the summer. Stuff like, get dressed, brush my teeth, make my bed, draw/ color for 30 minutes, read for 30 minutes, etc.
I made the mistake of letting him watch a little cartoons this morning and then told him to cut them off and work on his list.
He’s been in his room for 2 hours, not working on the list and periodically hollering, “I’m not doing this list thing today.” So I stepped in and said that it was fine with me if he didn’t, and then I got the side eye.
“I don’t have to do my list?” Me, smiling, “Nope, kid, you don’t.” Kid is grinning at this point. “Well, good then.” Me, about to drop the hammer. “So, I guess then that just means no phone or TV or Wii then.”
me, a kiss on each
she whispers, you were never weak,
just gentle as breeze.
she is the season
in which i come back
my hope is not found in
fireworks or midnights,
nor new borns,
my hope sounds like friends singing
indie pop out of key,
tastes like lemon sorbet melting
faster than it can be eaten;
smells like peach scented factor 50 we apply to each
looks like turquoise water where
shallow ocean strokes land.
my hope feels like sand
between my toes,
like saltwater burning my throat,
like hugs from my best friends,
like showering off sweat,
like picking out a postcard for
my grandmother, like holding pinky fingers when it is too
hot to hold hands.
yes, summer can lash out, yesterday she
burned my back but
it was in the shape of
So I was bored, and I wanted to write something, even just a drabble. This is one of two entries I’m doing for @phanny-fics writing competition (this is such a great idea and I miss reading imagine fics). This is my pure Dan imagine fluff piece. The other one will be a smut one idk will be about yet. I haven’t written anything in a couple of months, so I might be a bit rusty in my writing.
I blame Dan and that new white piano of his lol.
Music lilts throughout the spacious room, causing my eyelids to open in curiosity. It’s still dark, and I blink a few times in an attempt to clear the sleepiness in my head. Several feet away, I can make out a tall, dark silhouette sitting on a wooden bench where a new piano is occupying a chunk of space on the floor.
I don’t speak, content to continue listening to the piano player. Dan hasn’t been able to tear himself away from the piano since he and Phil moved into their new place. It’s an improvement from the piano at their former London flat, and Dan has an odd fondness for the instrument. Maybe it’s the different color, but whatever effect the piano is giving to Dan, I quite like it.
I get up from the bed and make my way over to where Dan is sitting. I drape my arms across his shoulders and press my face to the side of his neck. His playing falters slightly, though my presence doesn’t make him stop. About a minute passes before his fingers cease its movement.
“Did I bother you, love?”
I shake my head. “I liked it. How long have you been up?”
“An hour, I think.” He tilts his head so his cheek presses on my right left arm. “I’m still trying to get used to this.”
“I can tell.” Since we started dating, it’s once in a blue moon whenever I see Dan’s fingers within inches of piano keys. I can tell a small part of him is still affected by his childhood piano teacher. Who wouldn’t? Even some of my stricter teachers are nothing compared to that witch of a music tutor.
“Maybe she’s the reason you have pianophobia,” I’d lamely joke.
But his love for music is undeniable. Arthur the aardvark sparked an interest that never faded. Which is why I try to ease him into doing self-taught lessons (with the help of YouTube of course) so he could play piano equivalent to popular YouTube musicians. It worked for the most part. My encouragement and positive feedback hasn’t strayed him from his newfound motivation for the last few weeks.
“You can do it, you know. I’m no Beethoven, but you’re more competent at this than me.”
“Compared to Gerard Way? I suck.”
“Well, Gerard is a god, but so are you. Just believe in yourself and keep practicing. Before you know it, you’ll be in a packed stadium with fans chanting ‘Daniel, Daniel , Daniel.’”
“Whoa, let’s keep that dream for someone who isn’t doing YouTube for a living.”
“Right, because if you don’t, you’ll be living on the streets.”
He nods. “I’ll do it live on YouNow, maybe do some covers when I have time-”
“When you’re not procrastinating,” I add.
“When I’m not lazy,” he says with a snicker, “and just really do what I love.”
“That’s all your fans want.” I touch my lips to the side of his lips. “That’s all I could ever ask for.”
“That, and for me to wear my Wildcats jersey. I’m still saying no to that.”
“Oh come on! I love a good Troy Bolton.”
“(Y/N), that’s exactly why I won’t wear it again. If he was a real character, I’d be mocked for being a wannabe Troy.”
I pout. “I thought we were talking about your piano-playing. Why’d you have to bring that up?”
“The discussion was leading in that direction anyway.”
“We can have a full HSM rant later. I’m sleepy.”
“I’ll come with you to bed.”
We leave the piano and settle underneath his duvet. I rest my head on his chest, and he strokes my (H/C) strands.
“I love you,” he murmurs.
“I love you too, Beethoven.”
And to think, all it took was a white piano for this to happen.