Cornelia’s tire swing, the kitchen curtains, the porch swing that rocked with the wind.
All the things of her.
It had been almost six years since the divorce. Six years since his whole life up and left. Leaving him to do nothing but sit and stare when time slowed.
He could go and rekindle a flame with an old mate, get off the ranch and have some fun. Yet every text he meant to send got deleted before it was too late. Resigning himself to that spot by the sink and staring at the memories she left behind.
He wouldn’t dare sit on that side of the porch again, or change the kitchen curtains. He wouldn’t move that swing, only ensuring it was secure every so often.
He let himself dream of the memories as the sun rose and coffee filled the air. Knowing that once he stepped out for the day, it was only a matter of time before the cycle repeated.
S3 speculation. I still think there will be a flashback for Sydney and her mom car dedication tattoo - I think in her financial ruin for her business, she had to sell her mother's car. Like carmy had to sell the jacket Mikey bought him.
i have no idea why but i can clearly see garcia telling reid titokers tea and then he just tells morgan at random moments
Anon I don’t know why you sent me this but THANK YOU for doing so because honestly I am now invested.
Spencer doesn’t have a clue who these tiktoker’s are. He barely knows what tiktok is. But Penny has the tea and she’s spilling it, so he’s listening. She tried to tell Emily and Derek about these things, but they don’t get as animated as Spencer does. He actually listens to what she’s saying, even if he’s completely lost.
Later on he’s sitting on the couch with Derek, reading a book while Derek watches TV. It’s really quiet aside from the commercials.
“Did you know that Lila has a tiktok account?”
Derek just looks at him. “Who?”
“Lila Archer.” He flips a page in his book, not even looking up.
Derek blinks, “Wait, the girl you made out with in the pool?” He laughs, “I didn’t even know you had a tiktok account.”
“I don’t,” Spencer insists, finally looking up from his book. “But Penelope was showing me some of those tiktok videos. Lila started dating some indie actor, and everyone in the comments were asking her if he was her secret boyfriend from five years ago.”
Derek arches an eyebrow. “The secret boyfriend being you?”
Spencer pretends to be interested in his book again, ignoring the blush forming on his cheeks. “I suppose. That not why I brought this up.”
“Uh huh. What’s the deal with Lila’s tiktok then?” Derek took the bait, his hands resting on Spencer’s legs as they laid over his lap. Spencer crossed one ankle over the other, mismatched socks protecting him from any oncoming tickle attacks (he’s learned his lesson).
“Okay so you’ve heard of David Dobrik, right? Apparently...”
It isn’t going to mean a thing. When all’s said and done, you’ll still be just as bereft, just as telltale tainted as you were the day you slipped through his fingers.
Pianissimo. The clink of a belt buckle is music on the floor, with the chorus of Voices rising in answer-
You’re so sick; you feign being whole. You revel in eyes cast across the Endless Void, like hands on your hips and the wood against your knees. Horrific. Hard. The familiar motion of a bowed head, for someone other than him.
No, it doesn’t mean a thing. When all’s said and done you’re every bit as vengeful, just as seething stained as you were when they spat you out into this life. But there’s satisfaction in your belly, and an aftertaste like shadow in your throat. You hope he’s watching, wounded, a covetous creature just like you.
I just thought about hearing Shawn's moans and the images won't leave my mind right now. WELL FUCK GOOD NIGHT TO ME.
h o n e s t l y
They’d start off as quiet little gasps and whimpers then grow into stifled moans that he tries to contain. No matter how hard he tries, though, he can’t keep quiet when he’s coming apart and groaning out your name.
I want a typewriter. A loud, old typewriter that bangs out the rhythm of ideas. I want an old desk and an ashtray. I want piles of pages filled with typewritten words and a floor littered with crumpled, discarded failed ideas. I want a window to gaze out of while thinking. I never see anything out that window; I see only my own thoughts and ideas but that window is key. I want pots and pots of coffee in daylight and bottles and bottles of wine when night falls. I want music playing - wild and loud and random. Moods and feelings swirling
Days had gone by and in isolation Jackary continued to stay. Paperwork had long since been finished, instruments played, paintings painted, decorations put up, meditations meditated and yet the dragon was bored out of his mind. He hadn’t seen Gentil or anyone else, the blackness along his body still prominent but there was something that was nagging at him.
Gentil had said he would visit, it was unlike the Priest to keep him waiting.
Peridot optics raised to stare at the ceiling of the nest, watching the illusion of stars in thought. Something was wrong and he could feel it deep within his stomach. Even if he was unsure, the instinct inside of him that he had developed from bonding with his closest friends nagged at him. To leave quarantine would be against the Archmage’s orders but he couldn’t stop the twisting knot in his stomach from tightening even further.
Gabriel and Gentil were everything to the Emerald and something was definitely wrong.
