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!
Customer service agents should be giving deals and discounts to those who are polite and respectful. Not to those who are complete assholes and complain about everything. The world would be a much better place!
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.
“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.
summary: No mornings could go wrong without Yoongi waking up next to his beloved husband, Donald Trump
A/N: no one asked for this lmao but here y’all have it cuz #Yoonald is fucking real
It was a great morning for the two of them. Yoongi had the day off, meaning he could rest and spend his time with his fat husband Donald. Donald was kicked out of the Presidential Campaign due to his shitty state, which meant he could spend his small loan of a million dollars with his sugar baby Yoongi. Yoongi’s eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the light which came through their big expensive 10$ window. Yoongi felt something touching his back. He turned around and saw his husband, soon to be ex husband, Donald Trump, caressing his back. Yoongi loved waking up to this. He was very busy due to his job and music, which he dearly loved. His eyes started watering at the thought of him losing Donald.
“Morning babe” Donald interrupted his thoughts while looking at him lovingly. Yoongi didn’t say anything and cuddled Donald close to him. “I’m scared.” Yoongi whispered “Why are you scared baby?” Donald shifted back to see Yoongi properly and slowly started caressing his cheek “Look at us. I barely even have time to be with you. I even regret being an idol. I’d rather be with you all day. I’m scared that one day you’ll leave me for Boris Johnson or something. I don’t deserve yo-“ Donald cut him off by kissing him passionately on the lips, while still caressing his cheek. Donald got on top of him this is not a smut and his hands started roaming around Yoongi’s body, showing him how much he loves him.
He pulled out saying “Baby, I don’t care about your time for me. We have this whole day for ourselves only and we are going to spend it like we never did. I love you, stop saying all those things. We deserve each other and that’s how we are going to stay. How about I make you breakfast on the bed, then we’re going to watch those dramatic cringy Indian movies while we cuddle, hm? Does that sound good to you?” Yoongi softly smiled “Yes, that sound very good” Donald then gave him a peck “Good, now follow me to the kitchen.”
Donald got up from the bed and went straight to the mirror, grabbing his brush and brushing his hair with it. He had a frown on his face which made him look cute. He then pointed his fingered at himself through the mirror and complimented himself saying “You are great”. Yoongi softly smiled his gummy smile which Donald loved so much and grabbed his hand, going to the kitchen.
As they got to the kitchen, Donald made Yoongi sit on the chair and watch him cook breakfast for the two of them. Donald gave him a little peck on the lips and turned around to get the eggs, the bacon, a pan and some oil. Yoongi then thought about all the times he spent with Trump and wondered how lucky he was to have such an amazing person next to him. Yoongi drifted off into his thoughts and Donald saw that. He smiled at Yoongi and went back to his eggs.
After a couple of minutes, the breakfast was ready, which made Yoongi wake up from his thoughts. Donald placed the food on the table and Yoongi could have sworn about the fact that his husband was so beautiful. As Donald sat on the chair next to him, Yoongi placed his hand on top of his, seeing how orange Donald was compared to him. After they ate their breakfast, Donald quickly washed the dishes and took Yoongi to the living room, where a couple of bad Bollywood movies were placed on the table. Donald placed Yoongi next to him on the couch, cuddling him close as he kissed his stomach
“I love you baby”
“I love you too, Donald.”
This is the most romantic shit I’ve ever written omg this is everything
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.
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?”
A/n: Hey loves! So this is part 1 to my collab with @batfamily-imagines!! We had a really good time writing this and I hope you guys love it!!
Warnings: Cheating, Vulgar language _____
It had been about a month since you last saw Jason. Tim needed your help with a mission with the Titans and there wasn’t an exact return date. You had just gotten back to the cave with Tim and felt like a zombie. Much like him, you pulled a few all nighters, living off coffee, and now looked forward to getting home to cuddle up to Jason in your own bed.
Before leaving Bruce told you Jason should be home since he took patrol off that night, for reasons he didn’t share with the rest of the Wayne household. Which wasn’t strange, Jason often didn’t tell them of his escapades when he’s on his own. However you got your routine ‘Goodnight Doll, I love you.’ along with whatever he had done that day. Which led you to believe he was already asleep. Having been on a plane when he sent it. You decided to not answer incase he was knocked out already and to give him a bit of a surprise.
Tiredly you leaned against the railing in the elevator, riding it to your floor where your shared apartment with Jason was. Hearing the light ding from the speaker, you forced yourself off the wall and trudged to your door. Sticking the key in the lock you quickly flicked it to the side and pushed the door open. Dropping your duffle in the hallway and kicking off your boots. Making your way further in the apartment you looked around a bit confused. The light in the living room was on, an empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the coffee table.
Brows knitting in confusion you walked over and picked it up. Strangely it was his more expensive brand, something he only drank on special occasions or with you. “Hm” A short hum escaped your throat before you heard a sound that made your blood run as cold as the arctic. Faintly you heard someone gasp out ‘Jason’ in the bedroom. The door was closed, a small amount of light filtering through the crack at the bottom of it. Cautiously you approached the door, ear pressing against it. Jason’s grunts could be heard along with more gasps. Clenching your jaw, you threw the door open. “What the fuck is going on?!”
Jason immediately pushed away from the blonde currently writhing underneath him. “[F/n]!? It-it’s not what it looks like!” That made you laugh, “Not what it looks like? WHAT THE FUCK ELSE COULD THIS BE JASON?! You literally just pulled your cock out of her!” You screamed and the woman had now pulled the blankets over her. “[F/n], doll, I can explain.” He stood up to approach you. The woman had gotten up too and threw on the closest thing to her, which happened to be Jason’s shirt. That made your blood boil more.
“Jason, is this your girlfriend?” She asked confusedly. “No I’m fucking Santa, what do you think?” You spat at the woman. She shrunk under your hard glare. “Why are you still here? Beat it!” You growled and she quickly pulled on her jeans and ran out of the apartment.
Jason had pulled on his sweatpants too. “Please let me explain.” You scoffed, “Let’s see you explain your way out of this one Todd” Crossing your arms, cheek caught in your teeth as you bit back tears. “It’s just, I was drunk and you were gone. I was hot and bothered and I couldn’t do for myself what someone else could.”
“So, your answer is to cheat on me?!” Yelling at him before shaking your head. “You don’t look that drunk now either Jason.”
He sighed, “I-I’m not, well not bad. But I was the first time” He said but not meaning too. Your jaw dropped before you walked up and pushed him. “First time?!”
“What? Shit! [F/n] she just, she kept, I was. I was lonely.” He defended but after hearing that your hand came stinging across his face. Not holding back your tears anymore. “You were lonely?! So you go and screw some slut, more than once?! Not just some drunk mistake?! While I was out for a month doing a favor for your brother! You, ugh!” Turning away you stomped into your room and started throwing your things into a suitcase.
Jason came after you, “What are you doing?!” You glared at him. “You expect me to stay?! I can’t even look at you Jason.” “[F/n] please” He stepped over and went to hold your hand but you recoiled away from him. “Don’t! Touch me! Don’t look at me! Don’t even think about me!” Slamming your suitcase closed. “You’re dead to me Jason Todd.” Picking up the suitcase you stormed out of the room, grabbing the duffle from the hallway and out the front door. Never looking back once.
The first thing you did was get a one way ticket out of Gotham. Ending up in Central City at some point. You had a childhood friend there, but you had to be sure to avoid Oliver, Dinah, and Roy. Walking along the road, you passed an alleyway and quickly got pulled into it and thrown against the brick wall. The wind was knocked out of you from the impact. Looking up you saw Deathstroke standing there, eye-patched glory and all.
“What do you want Slade?” Growling while pushing yourself off the filthy concrete of the alley. Holding your side where you were sure a rib had bruised. He chuckled, “Not as agile as we used to be huh girly?”
You rolled your eyes, “Well it’s been a long few days. What are you doing here?” He shrugged, “A proposal. I heard the little revived birdboy broke your heart.” You went to walk away, “Not interested.” Before exiting the alley he pulled you back and pinned you to the wall. “You know you want to get back at Red Hood for the pain he caused you. [s/h/n] wouldn’t have disappeared if he didn’t. I hear he’s still seeing the girl he cheated on you with.” Yanking your arm away from him you stood your ground, “And where’d you hear that?” Growling at him. “I have friends in Gotham, I can get the information I need.”
You turned away from him, and weighed your options. You couldn’t be sure if he was telling the truth, was Jason actually still sleeping with her? The girl he broke your heart with? Growling you kicked a nearby dumpster, leaving a sizable dent. “Fine, what’s your proposal?”
Slade smirked to himself, “Help me bring some chaos to Gotham. Teach that deadbeat ex-boyfriend of yours a lesson or two. You did a whole lot of good as a hero. Think of what you could do as a villain, no rules, no boundaries. Just the luck of the draw.”
Thinking for a moment you turned and faced him, looking up at him slightly. “What have I got to do.” Slade smirked before placing a hand on your shoulder. “Just do as I say, love.”
Two Month’s Later
Jason had cut all ties with the woman he cheated on you with. She didn’t mean anything to him, in fact he still wasn’t sure what made him even look in her direction. You were everything to him. Strong, beautiful, kind, faithful, all around amazing. But he just had to screw up the best thing he had.
Out on patrol he stood on the edge of a building. He tried to keep his mind off you, off you missing from his side on patrols. How you’d flirt with each other when taking out thugs. Fuck, does he miss you. Watching the skyline he saw a shadow sprint across his field of vision. Immediately he sprung to follow it. He’d been tracking this shadow for a little over a month and a half. Over that time they had stolen multiple pieces of high tech equipment and weaponry. Still anyone in the family had yet to get eyes on them. Whoever they are, they’re a ghost. Barely making a sound and barely seen.
He trailed the figure to a warehouse, watching as they soundlessly slipped through a skylight. Jason dropped down to look inside a side window, seeing the person completely gone. “Fuck” He whispered before carefully opening the window and sneaking in behind some crates. Looking around he saw the warehouse empty, even his infrared caught zero heat signatures.
Walking further into the warehouse, Jason looked into some crates, finding them empty. “Why would they come here?” Questioning to himself. All of a sudden he heard fast footsteps and when he turned to the sound he felt an impact come into contact and crack his helmet. The punch threw him to the ground. He groaned a little before looking up to see a shadowy figure. He could make out a black and grey suit with dark [f/c] accents. A hood and mask kept their features hidden. Except he could make out a pair of [e/c] eyes under the hood. There was something familiar about this person, he had some sort of attraction to them.
‘No it couldn’t be’ He thought from his place on the ground. Pushing himself up he faced the shadow of a person. “Who are you?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know” A distorted voice came from the figure. But he could tell it was female. “Got a cold?” He bantered while walking around the figure. “Charming as always….Jason.” He froze in his tracks, drawing a gun he pointed it at the person’s head. “How do you know that?!” His voice a low growl.
The figure looked at him from the side. “You told me Red.” They tilted their head to the side to get a better look of him. “You wouldn’t forget the person who’s heart you shattered would you?”
Jason’s breath caught in his throat. Now he knows why they seem so familiar. “[F/n]?” He breathed out. “Ding ding ding” You said before launching at him and quickly disarming him, kneeing him in the chin. Knocking him on his back. He felt a pinch and the cold metal of a needle enter his skin. His vision got blurry as he watched you stand over him. “Nice work” An all too familiar voice said. “I had a good teacher” You answered. The last thing Jason saw was Slade come into his field of vision before he was consumed by darkness.
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.
A Jacket and a Flashlight: Thoughts from Tempestuous Puerto Rico
I wake up around four in the afternoon (don’t you judge me) only to find out that Irene hasn’t even arrived yet. I had been told that the stupid storm would hit us pretty early in the day and I had been planning on sleeping through most of it, you see, but no – it hasn’t even rained yet. I promptly go back to sleep (hush).
I wake up again much later that night, to the sound of rain.
The power in our house goes out at around midnight. To be honest, I was totally surprised that it held out for so long, because we have this annoying little fukú curse thing following us around that makes it so our block is usually one of the first ones to flicker out. Still though, some gust of wind eventually blows out some transformer or whatever, and the whole street goes dark. It begins.
Because I’m a total masochist I have decided to spend the night re-reading ‘Salem’s Lot by candle-light – because atmosphere! This doesn’t really pan out, though, because 1) it turns out that reading by candle-light is actually kind of a total pain in the ass, and 2) oh god why am I reading this at two in the morning oh god oh god
It’s four in the morning now and everyone else has drifted off to sleep. I’m still wide-awake though, because my days start when the moon goes up (stop it with the judging), so I’m in the kitchen doing nothing much at all. Fidgeting, mostly.
So because by now I’m feeling utterly bored and lonely and disconnected, I sit down on the kitchen table and turn on the radio – I want to listen to the news for a bit, I decide.
And outside the wind howls and howls and howls.
And outside, over the howling howling howling of the wind, I hear someone whistle.
And inside I think, No. I’m pretty sure I’m imagining things, because I don’t know anyone that crazy. I turn up the radio. After a few seconds I hear the whistle again, so I stand up, open the door that goes out into the driveway and peer out. And it turns out that in fact I do know somebody that crazy, because there, outside our front gate, stands the unmistakable silhouette of Rafi. He is wearing this huge rain jacket and is waving a flashlight around, which he shines in my (mildly bemused) face for a few seconds before pointing it back at his own (wildly amused) face.
And the first thing I say, because you kind of have to ask: “Are you drunk?”
“What‽ No!” he replies. He kind of has to yell a little bit, because of, you know, the semi-hurricane going on behind him. “No! We didn’t drink that much.”
I’m about to ask who “Who’s we?” but a sudden gust of wind sends approximately seven gallons of water in my general direction, so instead I say, “Dude, hang on, let me go get the keys.”
But: “Nah, that’s all right.”
Then: “Seriously. This isn’t so bad anyway.”
I’m about to point out that, seeing as how I’m already soaking wet despite the fact that I’m inside, it is actually kind of bad. But all right.
“So,” I say. “You’re just walking around in wild weather at five in the morning just because it seemed like the thing to do, then.”
“Nah, nah, I was just with… wait, it’s five in the morning?”
“Just about, yeah.”
“Fuuuck,” he says, and he pauses for a moment. “Anyway, no, I was just at home with Diego and José Angel playing cards and dominoes and drinking and whatever. We were going to call you, man, but, you know, there’s no fucking way to get ahold of you.”
Which is true. I don’t own a cellphone, currently, and we haven’t had a landline at home in years. So if either the Internet or the power goes out, I am literally figuratively in the dark, cut off from the world. You would think that would be kind of nice, actually, to take an impromptu breather from everything’s that going on Out There, but mostly it’s just annoying.
I go: “Yeaaah, I think I would have opted to stay in, though.”
“That’s what I thought too,” Rafi says, “which is why I suggested we walk over here to get you to come out of your cave, but everyone decided to be lame and bailed. I mean, por dios, it’s just two streets over.”
And we go on talking and joking like this for a while, Irene raging around us still.
At some point during the conversation I mention something I heard on the radio earlier that night, about how people whose houses were without power were still keeping in touch with each other and keeping themselves informed by using their phones, and how cool I thought it was, to live in a world where even insane weather is no longer enough to really keep people apart.
Rafi scoffs. “Fuck cellphones,” he says. “Give me a jacket and flashlight and I’ll go see anyone.”
It takes him saying that to make me realize that, in a way, we’ve always lived in such a world, even before technology came along. And that thought keeps me in a pretty good mood as I watch my friend leave, walking back home in the tempest, and I crawl back into the dark.