Discover Top Posts Tagged with #storiez

blue

you gave me something to write about and i've been staring at this page for longer than i'd like to admit.

i don't know why i'm struggling this much either. people have been writing about it forever. songs, paintings, poems—people keep finding things to say about it as if there are still parts left undiscovered.

even looked around for things about it, thinking maybe i'd find some strange little detail worth holding onto. like how the sky isn't actually blue, or how veins only look blue, or how blue stars burn hotter than red ones despite feeling like they shouldn't.

funny, really. blue keeps turning out not to be what people think it is.

i could've gone another way with this too. i could've written about how you and your cat used to be best buddies in that quiet sort of way people accidentally choose each other. i could've written about your travels and the places that probably know you for a little while before watching you leave again. i could've written about how reddening your lips feels like the sort of thing that could start a war somewhere if people were weak enough—which, from what i've seen, they usually are.

i could've written about a lot of things, but none of them felt like mine to tell. they're pages you've left open, and i'm just someone reading them.

so i sat here a little longer and kept trying to think of something about blue, and somewhere in the middle of all that, i realized i've somehow been writing this entire time.

so if this turns out to be another writer's block coming for me, then what a nice thing it'd be knowing the last thing i managed to write before it happened was about blue—

or maybe, quietly,

about you.

#storiez

pls read me!! ♡

{last update: Mar 6th, 2022}

#bbytlk #blabbery #blogy post #show n tell #graphixxx #daydreamz #subby space #dommy talk #little thingz #pet thingz #bimbo pride #ickiez #storiez #wet dreamz #sillyz

kate & blue :))))

katie was talking across from me and i was genuinely trying to listen, i really was. the bar wasn't even that loud either. there was some old song dragging itself through the speakers overhead, glasses clinking every now and then, people laughing from tables nearby. nothing unusual. nothing demanding attention.

my mind kept wandering, not to big things—just small things. the way bottles behind the bar held onto bits of light. ice shifting around in glasses whenever somebody picked them up. the blue glow from a neon sign outside slipping through the windows and stretching itself across the counter. the kind of things people start noticing when they're trying very hard not to stare at somebody.

because every time i'd look at her, i'd immediately look somewhere else again. my drink. the counter. the neon outside. anywhere. everywhere.

i remember she laughed at something and reached over the table for my hand for a second before letting go again. just a second, always a second. i think i should've known then.

but people don't usually realize they're standing inside their last night with someone. they don't realize they're collecting final things while they're still happening. the last drink. the last laugh. the last time you look at someone and think, i'll probably see her again next week.

a few weeks later, i heard she was seeing somebody. and that should've been fine, technically there wasn't anything to lose. there wasn't a relationship ending. there wasn't some giant collapse. there wasn't anything with a name attached to it yet.

suddenly every little thing from that night started coming back differently. the quick glances around the room. the hands that never stayed long enough. the way she'd look around before getting too close.

the way i somehow only ever existed in corners, in late nights, in places where nobody knew us. i think that's when it finally hit me. i was kept like a secret.

out of everything i remember from that night, i barely remember what she said—although i remember the light. blue, spilling across her face from somewhere outside.

and i think that's the cruel thing about memories, they keep the colour—and throw away the warnings.

#storiez #its an all too well coded story—sorry i have to make kate the bad guy lol

Too intimate in chat that he shares his personal life with you (e.g., family, childhood, trauma, faves but not his future plans), and it’s been like that for more than a year and a half. But when it comes to real life, you barely feel the connection, and there’s always a bit of awkwardness whenever you’re together.

for a year and a half, i knew things about you that felt too personal to fit inside a phone screen. i knew about your family, your childhood stories, the songs you played on repeat when things got bad. i knew stupid little things too—things people usually forget to ask about. i knew what food you suddenly decided to hate for no reason, and which memories still followed you around years later.

and somewhere in the middle of all that, i think i just assumed i knew you. because how could i not? people don't usually hand you pieces of themselves like that—every time we're together, something felt off; not bad, just strange.

you'd laugh at something i said, but your eyes would drift somewhere else a second later. i'd catch you staring over my shoulder sometimes, looking like you were listening to something i couldn't hear. there'd be these weird little pauses where i'd suddenly become aware of the silence sitting between us.

and i kept thinking about it, because how does someone know that much about you, and still somehow feel half a step away? how were we so close here—through screens, through words, through midnight conversations—and then awkward when you were actually sitting beside me?

didn't you like me? am i too loud in person? too quiet? was i somehow translating badly into real life? hell, after a while i started wondering stupid things. maybe there was somebody else. once your brain starts overthinking, it doesn't exactly know when to stop.

then one night i was waiting outside a diner because you said you'd be there in ten minutes.

ten became twenty. twenty became forty. forty became me rehearsing one of those fake-calm speeches in my head. hey, it's okay if you're busy, i just think communication matters—that kind.

then i noticed people further down the street had stopped walking.

not panicking, just staring. that weird sort of curiosity people get when reality briefly starts acting out of character. someone had dropped a paper bag and oranges were rolling across the road. a bicycle was lying on its side. people kept looking upward.

so i looked too.

and there you were.

for a second, my brain genuinely refused—because no, absolutely fucking not. there is no way i spent a year and a half wondering if you secretly hated me—when you were too busy saving the city.

and suddenly everything clicked.

the drifting eyes, the awkward silences, the disappearing attention—all this time i thought you were awkward, all this time i thought maybe i was. meanwhile you're out here being a fucking superhero and i was busy wondering if i was the side chick.

#storiez #yes—i turned your socially awkward bf into a superhero

can you write about this?

i want to travel solo and meet someone that will definitely give me a lot of what ifs and ruin me for years

i used to want to travel alone. not for any dramatic reason. i just liked the idea of leaving without anyone waiting for me; arriving somewhere unfamiliar and becoming unfamiliar too. i liked train stations, departure boards, people passing through places they had no intention of staying in. i liked knowing everyone around me was temporary.

and if i got lucky, maybe i'd meet someone. not forever, just someone who'd ruin me a little.

the quieter kind of ruined—the kind that keeps showing up years later in small moments you never invited them into. where you'd hear a song and think they'd probably like this, or end up somewhere beautiful and immediately think, you should've seen this. someone that leaves behind what ifs; enough of them that they settle into you and refuse to leave.

what if i stayed a little longer? what if they did? what if i had said something different? stupid things like that.

i always imagined meeting them somewhere ordinary. some city i'd never see twice, maybe; a train ride, some quiet little place where strangers accidentally become stories for each other.

funny thing is, interstellar travel turned out to feel strangely similar. people still leave. people still arrive. people still sit beside strangers hoping something happens. the sky just changes—that's all.

i met you in a transit medium between systems because every other seat was taken. we started talking, then hours happened, then days happened, and somewhere along the way i stopped paying attention to where we were going.

i remember realizing i was in trouble because there were stars outside—actual stars, entire galaxies stretched beyond the glass, things people would've killed to see centuries ago—and somehow i kept looking at you.

i remember medical pulling me aside.

i remember laughing when they started asking how long we'd been spending time together. i remember thinking maybe they thought i was sick, or maybe i'd forgotten some routine screening. i remember them handing me the report and watching my face the whole time.

prolonged exposure. cross-species incompatibility. i remember reading it once, then again, then looking back at you. you weren't human, and apparently that wasn't the problem.

the problem was our kind weren't meant to stay near each other for long—not because of wars, not because of politics, not because the universe hated us enough to make a tragedy out of it. just biology. just the universe deciding, very casually, that we were poisonous to each other.

i think i would've survived it easier if i hated you—if some tribal part of my dna had fired up and done me the favor of telling me you were different; telling me to stay away, telling me not to trust you.

instead, god—no, that's not right anymore, is it? we've crossed systems and somehow i'm still using old earth expressions—but we had something. and i hate that that's the part that stayed. not the report, not the diagnosis. not the neat little scientific explanation for why we were impossible. just you.

years later, i still catch myself wondering stupid things. what if i'd met you somewhere else? what if your species evolved beneath a different star? what if mine did? what if there had been some mistake in the report? what if i stayed a little longer? what if you did?

funny thing is, i used to think we'd grow out of things like this. humanity spent centuries advancing—we crossed impossible distances, bent space around us, reached places our ancestors would've called divine.

you'd think somewhere along the way we'd evolve out of wanting people. out of wanting the chase, out of looking at a stranger and hoping they'll ruin us a little.

apparently not, apparently we just dragged old instincts with us—even between stars.

#storiez #this isnt your typical manic pixie dream girl story lol

Write something about waiting on someone’s promise to come back

she had a habit of leaving things behind.

hairpins on the bathroom sink, sweaters draped over chairs, coffee cups in places coffee cups had no business being. i used to complain about it, mostly because i liked hearing you defend yourself.

that morning, i found one of your hairpins beside the kitchen window. i held it up between my fingers and asked if you were planning on collecting them around the house one room at a time.

you were standing by the front door fixing your nurse's cap, your bag already by your feet, already halfway out the door. you said you were contributing to the home's character, i wasn't sure the home needed that much character.

you laughed, i remember that. i remember asking if you'd be home late, i remember you looking at me for a second like i asked something ridiculous.

you pointed at the glenn miller record sitting on the shelf.

you bought it while i was away. i'd only gotten back the night before, tired from traveling and half asleep at the dinner table. you could've played it without me, but you waited for me.

then you smiled.

"before dinner," you said. "i promise."

i remember watching you leave. funny thing is, i don't remember deciding to watch you that time.

the rest of the morning felt ordinary. cars passed outside. somewhere down the street, somebody was mowing their lawn. i remember standing at the sink washing dishes and thinking i should probably put your hairpin back where it belonged.

then i noticed people moving too quickly.

someone ran past the house. then another. then voices. for a moment, i thought something had happened to a neighbor.

people were gathering around radios by the time i got there. nobody was saying much. they were just standing close together.

i remember some of them looking at me. strangely. the sort of look people give when they know something and are waiting for you to catch up.

i almost asked why, but the radio kept cutting in and out beneath the static.

"...pearl harbor..." more static.

"...attacked..." voices talking over each other.

"...japanese aircraft..." for a moment, none of it meant anything. just words, just noise. then—

"...naval hospital..." suddenly i remembered where you were.

i remember staring at the radio. i remember somebody beside me saying something i didn't hear. i remember people moving. chairs scraping against the floor. feet against pavement.

the world kept continuing in these small, ordinary sounds while i stood there trying to understand how a morning could stop being a morning.

mostly, i remember looking at the clock. dinner was still hours away. i remember thinking, with a certainty i hadn't earned, that you'd still come home.

because you promised.

i didn't know it then, but that was the day i started waiting.

at first, it was for the evening.

then for the next morning.

then for next week.

somewhere along the way, i stopped keeping track.

your hairpin is still beside the kitchen window.

i left it there because some part of me still expects you to come back and ask where i put it.

#storiez #ok i did not expect that many asks—i promise i'll get to every single one and turn them into stories lol

anon me anything you want me to write about—a name, a color, a random sentence, a memory, a bit of context, your past, a fantasy, a feeling, or literally anything. give me something and i'll turn it into something.

#storiez #letters #spotify

when i was a kid i ate a bee bc it pissed me off

amazing

#storiez #trickedboonblr #feel bad for the bee tho :(

#storiez

Trending Tags

Recently Viewed Tags

#storiez