I don't want dating apps. I wanna meet a man the old fashioned way: I see him across the room at a ball and ask my friend who he is, and when she realizes I've taken a fancy to him, she drags me across the room and forces us to talk to each other.
seen from China
seen from France
seen from China
seen from France

seen from Morocco

seen from France
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Poland

seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Russia
seen from United States
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seen from Türkiye
seen from France
I don't want dating apps. I wanna meet a man the old fashioned way: I see him across the room at a ball and ask my friend who he is, and when she realizes I've taken a fancy to him, she drags me across the room and forces us to talk to each other.
I LOVE WRITING THEMM they make me crazy
Its quiet. You think.
You don't even remember what time it is when you're sitting at the couch and staring at the big rectangle tv, some old news channel playing on the lowest volume setting, spewing talk about some brand recall you could care less about. It's silent here, the only sound you can focus on is the sound of the air vents blowing and the ringing of the lamp dying in the corner.
The time ticks by, broken clock in the middle of the left wall that has long lost it's ticking sound since you bought this apartment, forever stuck on 2:48pm. You don't know what time it is, but judging by the way the sun is peeking through the window shades in soft blues, it's probably early morning in the AM, and you've pulled another sleepless night of the week.
How long will it be like this? You ask yourself.
The ceiling only gets so interesting after awhile, and the fiddling of fingers and clicking of nails can only drive you crazy for so long. And still, you sit there on the leather couch that sticks to your bare skin from how long you've been in the same spot, staring up and waiting for something to happen. Something, anything. But nothing. You're tired, you want to close your eyes and maybe you'll wake up, or maybe.. the latter option.
You glance to the phone you've left on silent since Monday, reaching your hand out to it while it sits collecting dust on the coffee table. Your arms makes a cracking sound when you finally move it after hours, fingers wrapping slow around the cold black screen and pulling it towards you. The light the screen makes is nearly blinding, but a slow adjust to the brightness and you can blink away the dark spots that had formed in your eyes.
The phone reads a page of notifications formed in paragraphs. Message after message, call after call, and it goes on and on. The purple you recognize so easily, the familiar smile of the profile picture you set with the 3 fingered hand formed in the shape of a heart, and matched with the hand of a faceless person next to it, which happens to be you. The messages are all from him, the name header labeled with 2 purple hearts and a robot emoji, and the name you've been accidentally ignoring since you stopped coming outside of these familiar walls that you hide in.
Each message starts off calm, collected, worried enough that it's fair. It goes downwards after that, spam calls and more than a triple text, hour after hour, voicemails filling up your inbox, even emails. Every single app he has access to you on is filled to the brim with message after message, which would be concerning, if it weren't for the fact you have been a ghost to everybody you know for the last.. 2 weeks?
Then it's there, your phone freezes, the screen goes white, and there's two small red and green buttons and one big circle profile picture with the familiar name under it. He's calling you. Your body freezes, and your fingers twitch forward towards the screen like they wanted to click something, but you were just stuck. Staring. Watching his name, watching the phone button ring, feeling your heart stop beating in your chest just for a few moments, but your face is practically emotionless. You know you feel something, but really you can't feel it at all.
Its quiet.
"MY TIMELINE FOR THIS STORY NEEDS TO BE A FULL ON SPREADSHEET" and other things to yell while writing
Don't let anyone tell you not to write one little fairytale retelling! That trilogy is gonna be the best seventeen book series you ever write!
and i'm decimated | because i know i've already blown it
THE SLIGHTEST ADDICTION • SPILLED STARDUST GIFSETS • HERA SYNDULLA AND KANAN JARRUS • STAR WARS REBELS • SPILLED STARDUST VOLUME I • FOR @accidental-spice
When two people who Don't Work Together come upon a bigger threat and have to Work Together in order to survive... that's the good stuff.
I'm currently seven stories deep in a series of interconnected fairytale retellings. Anyone wanna hear about them?