#chapter closed

[nightshadelamentandtwilighttears]

Hi! Hey-hey there!

I still love you.

But you know, it wasn't enough.

We could've been one of those amazing love stories, but I couldn't move from where I am, and neither could you.

I still love you, but not in a way that makes you a significant other.

I love you the way an old person remembers their childhood.

With fondness and affection.

With nostalgia and melancholy.

Something that mattered a lot.

So I hope wherever you are, you will flourish and be happy and not so lonely as we were when we had each other.

[im-madam-baby]

Now, I really don't care about the past, the people who have left—let them go. And as for those I've chosen to walk away from, it's because I choose peace for myself and my mind. I choose to move on from those chapters.

[honeytuesday]

ok broke my own heart. logging back in

[sunstrides]

ART YEAR RECAP: June & Sage RP-verse

basically, 98% of the personal art i did last year was for @lovscloud and i wouldn't have had it any other way 💖 pls don't steal/repost mwa

[emmaliee]

Meeting at the Crossroads

As I make my way to our agreed meeting point, doubts swirl in my mind. Should I back out now? I ponder, mentally preparing for our upcoming conversation. He'll likely brush off my concerns, showing little regard for my feelings; I'm merely an afterthought to him. Though unspoken, I sense his outreach stems from loneliness, not genuine care. If the grass was truly greener elsewhere, he wouldn't be here now. Though my words may go unheard, a glimmer of hope flickers that perhaps this time will be different—that we can finally address our underlying issues. But doubts linger; his interest in me has always been tepid at best. I refuse to diminish my self-worth for him; I know my value and have found happiness without him. So why does he still matter? Why am I even considering this? Despite conflicting emotions, something draws me to face him one last time.

Feeling unsettled, I switch radio stations for distraction, but each song echoes thoughts of him, amplifying my inner distress. With a sigh, I turn off the radio and park, still wrestling with my conflicting emotions. "Okay," I reassure myself, "I'll be fine. Growth and comfort don't always align, so I know I must push myself through this."

Just as I try to steady my nerves, my phone rings. An unsaved number flashes on the screen – it's him. Do I answer? Do I ignore it? Time's up. With hesitation, I pick up. He asks if I'm already there, and I reply that I'm on my way. We hang up. I sit in my truck for a few more moments, contemplating whether to just drive away. But deep down, I know what needs to be done. I take a deep breath, hold it for a moment, and slowly exhale to calm my nerves. Time presses on, and I resign myself to the inevitability of our meeting. Summoning courage, I step out of the truck, determined to face whatever comes next.

Minutes later, I arrive at the coffee shop. I see his truck pulling into a parking spot. Nervously, I open the coffee shop's door and slip inside, hoping he hasn't spotted me, though I'm fairly certain he has. Through the glass, I see him approaching the entrance. Our eyes meet, solidifying my decision. It's too late to turn back now; I must confront my fears head-on. Whatever unfolds from here on out, I am ready to embrace it.

[pacificus-pacificator]

A Personal Note on Tumblr Blogs

For the sake of my sanity, I am unfollowing nearly all blogs that primarily publish and/or reblog US political drama. There has to be a limit to this insanity.😒

I'm not even in that country, and do not intend to be so anymore, even if I was preselected for the Green Card visa. Given the actual chaotic status due to a madman at the helm, I suppose that I have seen more than my fair share of this travesty of democracy. I mean, didn't the Americans learn anything from 2016 to 2020? Are they that oblivious to reality? 🙄

Wishing the US-Americans the best for their future. Hopefully, there will be a light at the end of the tunnel (and a skeptic would say, "usually that of an oncoming train!") I just pictured Wile E. Coyote in my mind's eye. 🐺😅

[go-star-sailor]

can they get out of my brain

[dovewingkinnie]

i like the idea of dr sawyer having this feeling that people were waiting to catch him without yarnaby, that maybe a certain someone has plans for him

[micchiyt]

This is how it ought to be! 📺

[palettepainter]

Still tryna figure out how I draw him, I think I draw his legs too big and his neck too long but either way, he's fun to doodle!

[themisterhip]

You took everything from me...

[writingasdreaming]

Today I realized something. You still love me. After all this time. I can marry someone else. I can have children with someone else. None of that changes anything. You love me.

You didn't get in touch. You did't answer my messages. We didn't manage to be friends. None of this has anything to do with me or what I've done. It's about you protecting yourself from something you can't control. You probably realized it that afternoon in the cafe when my engagement ring silenced you. I will never forget how your body language changed and I will never forget the look in your eyes.

You can get a new girlfriend, you can cut me out of your life. You can ignore my birthday, my messages. But still you think about me. Still you wonder how I am. Wondering why I haven't fallen in love with you. Wondering why I didn't choose our life. Forgetting that you wanted to get rid of me then. That you wanted to suppress me as a bad memory. For a long time I blamed myself for that. Today I lay awake in the dark and it became clear to me. I've long accepted that this is the way it is and only in painful moments long back to what connected us the most. You still love me. I'am the chapter you can't close.

Because of that I will close my eyes tonight and wish for you to forget me piece by piece. No one should mourn a what if for a lifetime. And when we are old and we look back on a place we once conquered together, we will tell each other about our lives and perhaps manage to become friends again. I hope then your life was as beautiful as mine.

[thecmaly]

can't even cat nap in peace 😾

-

more windbreaker comics

[forgettable-au]

FORGETTABLE-AU (Page 57-60)

* That was a long entry...

[BEGINNING] [PREVIOUS] [CONTINUE]

[mijucats]

RRRAAAHHHHH I FINISHED!!!!

anyway i got my brain exploded by thinking about spamton finding and dragging tenna back to his dumpster if you don't save him since he'd be able to see it all happening (presumably) :(

(edit) oh yeah i forgot that this was all inspired by Dumpster Girl by Jack Stauber :3 everyone go listen to it....

posters detail (or scribbles really):

[stellamarielu]

thinking about how pope likes having his hair played with... thinking about him maybe having some sort of fixation with hair... pulling on it, threading it through his fingers, braiding it... Lots to unpack here... girl dad! pope jump scare sorry

Him laying with his head on your lap, or on your chest, just for your hands to instinctively migrate to his curls.

Threading your fingers through his hair, and hearing a subtle sigh of relief when he feels you gently scratching his scalp. Following the pattern of each auburn wave with your fingertips, his body still under your touch.

It’s a comfort mechanism, something he never realized he looked for until you became a permanent figure in his life. Now he searches for the solace at the end of a long day— the therapeutic sensation of your fingertips at his scalp. Burrowing his head against your body and waiting for the salvation of your hands gently tugging through his hair.

He offers it back to you. A subconscious bargain of affection when he runs a hand over your hair while you're cooking dinner. Almost petting it while he stands next to you, listening to you talk about your day. Busy playing with it between his fingertips, getting lost in the texture of your hair and the sound of your voice.

He tugs on it gently when you turn to kiss him. tangling his hands in your hair when you break the kiss to let your lips venture down his jaw.

He fixates on it— his ability to weave your hair between his fingers, pulling and molding it however he pleases. Something in the intricacy of each strand coming together at his fingertips to form an unruly bouquet, feeds his body's need to keep his hands busy at all times.

It grounds him. It’s a refined fidgeting that satisfies the restlessness of his hands.

That’s why he thrives off the consistency of routine in doing his daughter's hair almost every morning.

The repetitive nature of it relaxes him. The gentle brushing and braiding of her hair in his hands transports him to a place of innocent peace, as she sits patiently in front of him, watching cartoons and eating breakfast. The pattern of her dark curls are almost identical to his. He lets his hands fall into the same familiar motions, humming his responses as she talks to him about something that happened at recess yesterday. He takes his job very seriously, making sure every hair is in its place before carrying her lunch and backpack to his truck while she follows sweetly behind.

It’s a habit that comes to fruition under vulnerable circumstances. A tender extension of affection saved for the people he loves most.