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Photography is an art📸🖤
@lovesaved — continued from here : the blond glanced at the girl and smiled, his skates covered as he leaned against the board on the side that wasn't ice. it was nice that forks had a rink, made the move up here easier. his aunt and uncle had packed up and moved out here a few years ago now, but sometimes he still felt surprised by how weird the town got. they weren't huge hockey people, even with the crappy weather, it was a little freaky ; made him miss home where he would build an ice rink in the woods with his cousin. usually he wouldn't mind having kids come to the hockey club, but forcing it just meant that none of the really wanted to be there.
' pretty good, ' he replied with an easy shrug, ' how about yours ? you suddenly gain a desperate urge to come freeze out on the rink with us ? '
"i actually didn't take gen alpha memes in college," emily says. "everything i have learned is from a boy named henry against my will. what i'm trying to say is that i have no idea what you're talking about. which i think you're doing on purpose."
@lovesaved / starter call / for livvy
@lovesaved || reply to [this]
The years had come and gone, and so much had changed. He had changed. He had wondered, as he waited, whether his father would recognize him. If he would recognize his father. There had been pictures, sure - pictures his mother had mailed to the prison, pictures hung on the walls of the apartment - but those were just pictures. He hadn’t seen his dad since–
He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. His hands remained tucked tightly under his arms. He was nervous. No, he was anxious. He wasn’t afraid of his father - he loved his father. He did. Warren also knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that his father loved him, too. And yet he still found himself fidgeting, shifting his weight, tugging on his sleeves, tucking his hands. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen. He doesn’t know–
He doesn’t know what his father will think of him.
If he’s done enough to make his father proud.
He rocks back on his heels, once again glancing around the room. It’s empty, but it feels small. Too small for him. The suit feels small, too, even though he knows it fits perfectly. … Maybe he feels too big. Too grown.
And then the door opens, and he doesn’t feel big anymore. He’s staring at a man he hasn’t seen since he was very young, but had shaped his life every step of the way. The room that had felt so suffocating a moment ago no longer existed. The guards who had eyed him suspiciously faded to nothing. Even his mother didn’t register. It was just him, just the man standing across from him. Haggard, a bit thinner, maybe, maybe a bit grey at the temples, but that was Dad.
That was Dad.
There are a thousand things Warren wanted to say in that moment. He’s played this day over and over in his head ever since he first understood what ‘jail’ really meant, thought about what he would say, what he would do - and yet now, he has nothing. Nothing at all. After a few seconds of eternity, he speaks, and yet it’s only the first two words that come to mind.
“Hi, Dad.”
And then Dad is staring at him, and he’s staring at Dad, and he’s wondering what kind of impression he must have just made, should he have said something else?, and then Dad hugs him and he’s six years old again, before his durability kicked in, being comforted from a freshly-skinned knee when he’d tripped in the drive way. He’s five years old again, awake after a nightmare and held in his father’s arms, the safest place in the world, assured that no monster under the bed or otherwise will ever hurt him. He’s four years old again, home after his first day of preschool, worn out and falling asleep as his father carries him up the stairs so he can nap in bed before dinner.
He crumbles without realising it, taking white-knuckled fistfuls of the thin material of his father’s shirt as he hangs on in kind. He doesn’t realise he’s shaking until he realises his eyes are shut so tight it makes his head hurt, but he doesn’t let go. It doesn’t matter to him that he’s one of the tallest people in school (not including Larry’s rock monster form; that’s cheating). It doesn’t matter to him that he can’t be killed. It doesn’t matter to him that he’s still got one hell of a reputation in the halls. Because in his father’s arms after so long, faced pressed against the shoulder of a man with a body count that would look akin to a phonebook, Warren finally lets himself feel vulnerable.
He finally lets himself feel safe.
“I missed you.”
“ i’m starting to think i’m just fucked up. ”
misc sentence starters
his gaze falls on them before he turns his body towards them in his seat. no one gets to talk about them in that way, including themselves. ❛ hey, ❜ his tone is soft, brows furrowing at their words. ❛ you’re not fucked up. ❜ he says the words with absolute certainty. he doesn’t believe anyone is necessarily fucked up - things just happen. ❛ you deal with whatever life throws at you and life isn’t always fair. how you deal with it or how it affects you doesn’t make you fucked up or whatever. ❜ lyric has difficulty in the advice and upbeat speeches area, but he’s trying his best. ❛ i think you’re doing pretty great actually! ❜ a grin spreads across his features for a moment.
❛ and, i’ll be honest, i’m not great at this stuff. obviously, ❜ a half hearted laugh, ❛ but you know there’s no shame in asking for help or anything, right? whether it be needing to vent or some simple thing to relieve stress or something you think will improve your mental health or happiness. any of that. ❜ a hand on their shoulder, giving it a light squeeze before he takes it back. ❛ you got people who love you. you’re not fucked up in anyone’s eyes. ❜ a beat, ❛ and i’ll just have to fight your brain if it keeps trying to convince you otherwise. ❜
#LoveMade #LoveGave #LoveSaved #KevinRiley #kevinrileymusic (at In His Presence Worship Ministries)
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