Habitually contemplate whether your thoughts stem from a place of love or from fear. If your thoughts originate in love, follow them. But if they originate from a place of fear, then dig deep to find the root of your fear. Only then will you be able to finally let go of it so that fear no longer limits your possibilities.
One of the best perks of my job is that it takes me all around the country. I always love going back to cities where I’ve lived before, and today I spent a wonderful day in Pune, where I used to live four years ago. @it-aint-eez-eh Remember you used to say to me “You live in a place called Prune!?” :D
First thing, I checked into my hotel, and found out that my room has been upgraded. (@rileyrooin you goddess! Everything you say comes true!) And it made me think of 5 different people that I’d have LOVED to have here with me to share this huge space. (Three of them might be reading this. You know who you are 😁)
After work, I went back to see my old home. Which funnily enough was called “Home from home” (Wtf, right? :D) It made me feel that familiar feeling of nostalgia in the pit of my stomach which is absolutely LOVE! Home from Home is where I first fell in love with John and Hank. And I’ll never forget that six hour stretch in that balcony where I read the entire book - Every Day by David Levithan.
Then, I got my eyebrows done from the nearby lady who I used to go to. I had street food that I used to eat almost daily, and just walked around alone, with my camera phone, clicking pictures of everything and sending them to my friend who I used to live with, making him super jealous :D
And then I went to the mall where I practically lived for a year.
And went a little cray-cray with the shopping :D I bought a top to wear with my short blue skirt. I bought a bra (obviously) which has polka dots (obviously!) I got a laptop skin, a necklace, two leather bound notebooks and one sketchbook. And now I realise I’ll have to pack all of this up and carry them back to Delhi in my tiny cabin bag. 🙈
What a wonderful day in a wonderful city! Off to Bombay tomorrow!
“The Blossoms are Blooming on the Crabapple Tree Outside My House”
The blossoms are blooming on the crabapple tree outside my house. Even in the moonlight, their pink color is soft and delicate. The weather has warmed, and I spend most evenings outside now. I don’t sleep well when I’m sweaty, so I sit outside and write. My pen moves to a soundtrack of crickets, punctuated by the occasional whistle of a passing train. The smell of new green growth fills me with vigor, even at midnight. I know he is inside, softly snoring. He’s curled up hoping I will come wandering into our bed. I want to go curl up next to him, to run my fingers through his brown locks, but something in me just can’t. There’s a tug in my heart that urges me to pen these words. It’s hard not to feel disconnected from the heat of inside when a cool fresh breeze lifts my hair, and the occasional passing of a car feels almost rhythmic. It’s nights like these that I want to take up writing full time. Tonight I want to pen every thought, every feeling, every wild idea. In this quiet calm I dream that maybe one day I will see my writing published.
When you’re unemployed there’s a siren’s call to stay inside and fall head over heels into whatever hobby it is you’re in love with at that moment. Right now I resist that song, sweet on the breeze like the scent of the apple tree next door. Right now though, under moonlit pinks and greens, I find it just so hard to want the working life. The back and forth, the long hours, the slog through the mundane just to arrive home with barely enough energy to accomplish anything you wanted to do when you woke this morning.
When my thoughts turn to sour anxiety, the breeze begins to feel more chill, and the sounds of cars become distracting. The warm orange glow of my home calls me, and the thought of my place next to the person curled in my bed feels like the only place I could ever want to be. That’s when the writing stops, when I stand from my seat in the stars, and I turn to the warmth of home. There is a finality to closing my writing book, to shutting my laptop. It feels like closing a chapter, ending what was a seemingly endless pouring out of my soul. Suddenly I have shut it all back up, because the love of my life is warm and waiting.
For the prompt:okay but what i need now is a fic where bellamy
finds out what clarke did. lol Like… imagine that abby didn’t
destroy the radiation chamber and clarke actually goes in. imagine bellamy
hooks up with that girl and someone barges into his room to tell him what
happened back at the lab and yeah. — @puppymorley
Title inspired by Softness, no.
8 by Albert Alexander Bukoski
Bellamy had never
been shy about his sexual exploits, per se. Though he hated to admit it, there
were many days that his lunch breaks on the Ark were spent boasting about his
most recent conquest to his buddies on the guard, back when he was young and
stupid and just wanted a few minutes to be a jackass teenager. And even when
they’d first landed on the ground, he knew that more than one of the rumors
that had circulated around the camp had centered around his ability to handle
more than one woman at a time. No matter how much this world had aged him, at
the end of the day, he was still just a 23-year-old guy who, like most of them,
really fucking loved sex. Sue him.
But that didn’t
mean he was particularly thrilled by Harper barging in on him naked and high
and pressed up against some girl he barely knew.
sorry,” she sputtered, her arm darting up to block the view of the bed. He grappled
for the sheets, pulling them over Bree and himself. When he saw that her head
had turned, he reached for the boxers that lay crumpled on the floor next to
“What the fuck, Harper?”
“Look, sorry, but
it’s an emergency,” she said, eyes firmly fixed on the wall ahead of her.
The tea he’d
downed at the bar was still in his system, as evidenced by the way the room
spun when he reached for his shirt a few feet away and struggled to pull it
over his head.
“So much of an
emergency that you couldn’t knock?”
Summary: You and Yoongi shared a loving relationship with one another until you both agreed to end things and pursue your separate careers. But two years later, Yoongi is a member of the ever growing Bangtan Boys, and you are a new makeup artist for their upcoming tour. Pairing: Yoongi | Reader Genre: Fluff/Angst/Smut; Idol & Makeup Artist AU Word Count: 6,357
( 2 YEARS LATER )
There’s always a certain rush Min Yoongi gets before, during, and after every performance, no matter how often he participates in them and no matter how exhausted he might be from practices and dieting in the days, weeks before. One would think that after two years of nothing but strict scheduling, traveling the world, meeting fans like clockwork, he would have grown tired of free moments being such a rarity, constantly being busy and never getting to just relax and have a proper night’s rest.
But to Yoongi, it’s something he’s grown to appreciate. Yes, the scheduling is busy and tiring and there are often days when he would be filled with pure frustration over a simple inability to get dance moves down or turn hazy thoughts into song lyrics—but it’s a life that he would not give up for anything.
Because at the end of the day, he gets to do what he loves. He gets to make music and he gets the opportunity to really share them with people he knows would listen to what he has to say. He gets to meet hundreds, if not thousands of fans every month who take time out of their own busy, hard life to see him, let him know that his music reached them, touched them, made them feel something. And when he sees the shy smiles of his fans, their bright eyes and beautiful voices reaching out to him as they sing back song lyrics during one of his many concerts, it makes all those previous irritations and frustrations fade away to the back of his mind. Min Yoongi loves what he does, he really does.
He loves it, even as he’s clamoring backstage after Bangtan Boys has just finished one of three performances for their latest music show appearance, the cheers of success and the usual excitement following the rest of the boys as they rush quickly to get dressed in their new costumes for their new set list. Much like all the other performances, the air is plagued with adrenaline as the boys quickly disregard their previous attire. The stylists are rushing to get shirts buttoned, freshly pressed jackets on. Hair is getting retouched, eye makeup and foundation sponges are pressed against Yoongi’s face. In spite of the cheeriness that usually follows the boys after a successful music show performance, there is still the underlying chaoticness to get everyone ready in time for their next set. Moments like these are always messy, happening so quickly right before Yoongi’s eyes that he can never really keep track of the process.
And yet, Yoongi always feels that urgency, that rush, all with the smile never slipping off his lips because it’s almost been 2 years since Bangtan Boys experienced their debut, and every single day of his life still feels like some strange, out-of-body sensation. It still feels like a dream.
i. He has broad shoulders and strong hands. He has a sharp jaw and a rough look, but: if he touches you, you will melt, and he will melt into you.
ii. He will be your hero if you want him to, and he will teach you how to be your own hero, even when you don’t want him to.
iii. Sometimes he will slip into an abyss of hopelessness, but you just have to wait for tomorrow. He’ll climb out of it stronger. And when there are days you slip into the same abyss, he’ll throw down a rope of faith and pull you right out.
iv. He will scream at you sometimes but you never have to worry because you know that every word is dripping of care and his last sentence always ends with love.
v. There will be nights he will say no to you a million times and you can beg and scream and cry but the next morning you wake up and know he was right.
vi. He will tell you he’s done and he will tell you he’s giving up but he will always, always have an inkling of hope. He will wait for you to pull him back into your bubble.
vii. In the middle of the night, when your conversations are stumbling into the middle of nowhere, he will say, “I love you,” and that will make you his; that will set you free.
viii. When you look at him, your eyes wide with love, he will turn away, but: it’s only because he’s scared of that wizardry in your irises.
ix. He will hardly ever agree with you on anything and his views will always stay at the opposite pole but he will always pull you by the hand and hold you tight till the differences close in.
x. You can wrap yourself around him, but he will be your armour. He will make you feel the safest; and you will be a soldier ready for battle, even if you are a prisoner of war.
xi. If you sprinkle him with all the love in your veins, he will see you as the definition of magic. He will blend with every colour in your mind and he will mix with every drop of your blood and he will never, ever leave.
About three weeks ago I went to Chandigarh to attend the wedding of two dear friends of mine. Punjabi weddings mean lots of dancing, dressing up, henna, haldi, make up, saarees, lehengas, food, lots of food :D
How much I love Chandigarh.
How much I hate the cold.
How much I love wearing a saree :D
How beautiful love is, when at the reception, the visibly cutely drunk groom could not keep his eyes or hands off of the bride, and how adorably in love they are. Gives me hope that I can have that some day as well :) (Maybe, fingers crossed!)
Summary: The world of magic is divided into dark and light, witches and warlocks, choice and fate. You’re a prodigy of light, a witch who works within the police force. You’ve heard of Taehyung in passing, spoken in whispers as the warlock of dark who has the world holding it’s breath. All this changes on the night you’re assigned as security for a mysterious singer named V and you come face to face with Taehyung himself. What happens after that might be fate.
I love being in cities with lots of other people because I’m reminded that there are billions of people like me and we’re each stuck inside of our minds, feverishly trying to make connections with other people.