My Souls Still Wracked With Longing To See You

I'm tired of waiting to be enough for somebody else when I'm not even enough for myself.

He’s alive and well in my mind

Whatever you do, don’t imagine todd the night after neil had passed, after the ceremony and all the days events, sitting alone in his room staring straight at neil’s bed.

the messy bed with the blankets thrown back and the pillow still creased after neil had woken up and left for the play. and how none of the poets had dared to touch it.

how todd became so distraught while staring at it he climbed into it and curled up under the covers and started to cry as the blankets still smelled like neil.

how todd spent all night in the bed sobbing his eyes out and holding onto the blankets for dear life, until the morning came and mr nolan came to collect all of neil’s stuff.

don’t imagine how todd fought to stay in the bed and keep neil’s stuff; sobbing and reaching for neil’s belongings as they were carted away like they were nothing but a collection of disappointments.

don’t imagine how todd stole one of neils sweaters without mr. nolan looking, along with one of neils books and kept them for himself.

don’t imagine how when mr nolan had left, and todd was left with nothing but the sweater and book, he curled up on the empty bed, devoid of all blankets, and read.

and how todd had found a poem neil had written, jotted down in messy scrawl on a piece of ripped paper, shoved in between two chapters. and how multiple lines were crossed out and rewritten with the intention of getting it perfect.

And how the poem was addressed to todd,

and how it was a love poem.

don’t imagine it.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑜 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛

𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛’𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑏𝑢𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑠

𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠.

𝐼𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢…

♡ xoxo-Suzy ♡

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

My wildest dream is to have a wild and untamed garden full of flowers and Vines and Pathways and hidden benches and alcoves like that Secret Garden

I lost my best friend 3 years ago- not lost as in dead but lost as in we only text each other on our birthdays now. Movies and books don't tell you that a friendship dying is like the sinking of a ship, you try to get higher and higher and hold onto the rails and unanswered texts, the captain tries to steer it to safety and salvage pieces of two broken hearts until you're left with memories of what once was. We were friends for a decade and knew each other's diaries by heart, I still remember her phone number and the way she took her coffee. Seeing her in streets is like breathing in a scent you forgot you knew but it immediately takes you back to a summer in '07.

Movies and books also don't tell you that friendships don't just end after one fight or incident, it's like the rusting of a bridge, the slow decay of flesh and bones and secrets. It took weeks, months- until one day I woke up and I realized I hadn't thought of her in a while. And I wrote a poem that day and I titled it 'The dying of a best friend' and I put all my love for her in a tiny box with my half of the matching pendant of a dolphin we had and stored them in a corner of my heart under the heading Grief. Where else can one hide unspent love?

It's been 3 years since I lost my best friend, lost as in I still carry our secrets in a tiny box but we only text each other on our birthdays.

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire

Edit: here's the visualizer for this piece

⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺

𝙄’𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙬,

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙤𝙛 𝙬𝙚𝙩 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚

𝙄 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙮 𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮.

𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙄 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙢𝙮𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙙𝙞𝙯𝙯𝙮,

♡ xoxo-Suzy ♡

⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺

The intimacy of answering the phone “Hey you.” The intimacy of stopping to wait when someone needs to tie their shoe. The intimacy of knowing when someone’s voice is thick with worry or sleep. The intimacy of singing (badly) with someone in the car. The intimacy of huddling together under a shelter/umbrella. The intimacy of instantly recognising someone’s handwriting. The intimacy of trying to make plans and, “Oh no we can’t, you’re working that day.” The intimacy of matching your pace to theirs as you walk. The intimacy of being there for someone as they cry. The intimacy of “How did you know that?” “Because I know you.” The intimacy of feeling someone’s warmth through their clothes when you hug. The intimacy of being given change that’s warm from the heat of someone else’s hand. The intimacy of shared, comfortable silence. The intimacy of knowing how someone would react. The intimacy of keeping the radio off when someone falls asleep on a long car journey. The intimacy of sharing one earbud each. The intimacy of noticing someone’s nervous habits. The intimacy of “I had a dream about you.” The intimacy of inside jokes. The intimacy of feeding someone food as they drive (or really any other time). The intimacy of knowing just how someone likes their tea/coffee. The intimacy of trying something new together and having no idea what you’re doing; the shared hesitancy. The intimacy of someone saying “Text me when you’re home safe.” The intimacy of someone falling asleep next to you. On your shoulder. In your company. The intimacy of sharing secrets in the nighttime, because 3am will never tell. The intimacy of someone’s pet recognising you and coming over to say hello. The intimacy of “This made me think of you.” The intimacy of borrowing a jacket still warm from their body heat.  The intimacy of seeing someone’s unfocused eyes when they first wake up. The intimacy of ordering food and “shall we share it?” The intimacy of someone sharing the meaning behind their tattoos. The intimacy of just looking at someone and dissolving into laughter together.

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Tied Me To You

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1955. 1966. 1972. No matter how much the world tries to drag them apart, they end up right back where they started. Together.

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Fic announcement! The wonderful @rowanaelinn and I are teaming up to bring you this multichapter! Each chapter is going to be inspired by a different song from Taylor Swift's folklore and evermore, sooo prepare your tissues 😈 it's going to be quite the ride.

We're creating a separate taglist for this fic, so let me know if you'd like to be added!

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~ Prologue : Seven

~ One: ...

~ Two: ...

~ Three: ...

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This fanfic has been the only thing I've been able to focus on all day. Holy shit. It's so good and I cant wait for the next chapter, it's honestly a master peice.

Easier Than Lying: Masterlist

Summary: When a fire-wielding vigilante starts tearing her way through Orynth, Detective Rowan Whitethorn is tasked with putting her behind bars. He doesn’t know who she is, what she looks like, or what she wants.

But the one thing he does know?

She’s his mate.

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Illustrated Map of ETL's Orynth Playlist

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Fun lovely things by people I love

Playlist by @rowanaelinn

Playlist by @aelinchocolatelover

Moodboard 1 and Moodboard 2 by @themoonthestarsthesuriel

Moodboard by @morganofthewildfire

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Rating: E for smut, language, and canon-typical violence

Prologue Chapter 1: The Meeting Chapter 2: The Bond Chapter 3: The Swap Chapter 4: The Boy Chapter 5: The Name Chapter 6: The Gift Chapter 7: The Reporter Chapter 8: The Truce Chapter 9: The Source Chapter 10: The Video Chapter 11: The Funeral Chapter 12: The Manifest Chapter 13: The Rescue Chapter 14: The Chase Chapter 15: The Talk Chapter 16: The Bargain Chapter 17: The Date Chapter 18: The List Chapter 19: The SurvivorsChapter 20: The Party Chapter 21: The Truth Chapter 22: The Fire Chapter 23: The Fight

/ ~40