𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮

I decided to ask Amy to marry me all on my own on April 28th

DAISY JONES & THE SIX (2023) Track 10: Rock 'n' Roll Suicide

NEW GIRL ( 2011 - 2018 ) ↳ season 1 episode 9

THE O.C. ( 2003 - 2007 ) ↳ season 2 episode 2

lena feels her cheeks flush as the male seems to be studying her in a way she's slightly unfamiliar with, followed by a 'riveting' that wasn't exactly spoken directly to the painting. "i agree with that, actually. the envy." lena comments, finding herself agreeing with the complete stranger. she lets her eyes move from him, taking in the painting fully as she begins to think out loud. a distraction from the distracting man. "artists always seem so good at escaping, escaping the mundane, and creating beautiful pieces rich with soul and emotion. it's always nice to take a step away from a 9-5 and kind of... take a stroll through their world, seeing things through their eyes..." her voice trails off as she realizes all he asked for was if she was there for business or pleasure and she overshared. "so, passionate is my answer. clearly." she laughs, attempting to hide her embarrassment, her ears growing hot by the second. "though i'm far from an artist myself, you look the type though. so, what about you? anyone who walks into an art show with headphones on is clearly here to enjoy, not mingle."

he nodded along as he listened to her words, knowing all too well what she meant. it felt like he could never escape the way they could; from his thoughts, from his words or from his fears. he longed for that feeling — to feel so outside of himself. "no, you're right. i think that's also part of why i get envious at times. passionate, yet you aren't one. what do you do?" he questioned, part of him initially doubting she'd been an artist herself and finding it a little shocking she wasn't one. he involuntarily let out a soft laugh at her insinuating he could one, deciding to take it as a compliment and he knew it'd be the comment to stick with him for a while after. "i'm also very far from it. though, i can draw a really nice stick figure so not sure where that puts me," he shrugged, attempting a joke. "i'll admit i love coming here to clear my head sometimes. this is my little escape."

simplistic yet bold. delicate yet demanding. a whirlwind of paint strokes blending together, dried-up acrylic raised in certain areas that lena found herself resisting the urge to reach out and run her fingertips along it. the painting had encompassed her attention enough to almost make her forget that her friend was nearly an hour late to meet her there. almost. she had stopped checking her phone thirty minutes ago as three texts were left on delivered and there was yet a call from them to explain their absence. maybe they just got caught in traffic. that lie was a lot easier to convince herself of in the first thirty minutes. to be fair, they did say they would try to make it. she couldn't hold it against them if something came up. lena didn't realize just how lost in thought she became, her eyes glazed over and unfocused as hues of paint blurred into something unrecognizable. unsurprisingly, there was a bit of a reality check as a male voice suddenly spoke beside her, causing her to blink a few times to acknowledge the new presence. the female does a quick once over, noting the low hum of music still playing from the headphones around his neck before she gave a small smile. "divinity, probably." she replies, turning her view back to the painting. "or at least a sudden stroke of genius." she jokes, grinning slightly at the accidental pun of the statement. "what do you think?"

"maybe so," he shrugged, noting the song change in his headset and moving to turn it off. he let out a soft chuckle at the pun, nodding lightly. "genius. — i think," he started, pausing to turn back to the piece of art before them and inspecting it once again. michael had never been able to sit down and paint; let alone produce anything remotely aesthetically pleasing no matter how hard he tried to growing up. he felt like, at best, he could do a handprint portrait. his talent was words and how beautifully he could weave them together, sometimes in a heartbreaking way. it was fair to assume he wasn't equipped to really judge any art shows, but he enjoyed looking nonetheless. "i think i envy whatever got them into a state of mind to create something like this. it's..." he turned to look at her, as if he was just then starting to notice all her features. "riveting." a moment passes. "you studying, forcibly attending or simply passionate?"

-Fyodor Dostoevsky

the flickering streetlights cast long shadows as carson stood on the familiar street, the echo of childhood laughter and innocent adventures reverberating through the air. the neighborhood they had grown up in felt both familiar and foreign, a tangible reminder of a time when they were only kids, navigating the world with untainted curiosity. "we were only kids back then. we didn't know any better," he whispered to them, the words carrying the weight of unspoken regret. the memories of their shared past played out like a nostalgic film, each frame a snapshot of a time when the complexities of adulthood had been a distant concept. the park, once a realm of endless possibilities and shared dreams, now felt like a mausoleum for the innocence they had left behind. the swings creaked in the breeze, a melancholic symphony that mirrored his internal turmoil. "we were only kids," carson repeated, the words a lament for the simplicity of a bygone era. in those days, the world was a playground, and the future seemed like a distant horizon waiting to be explored. but time had a way of rewriting the narratives, unveiling the complexities that were concealed by the rose-tinted lens of nostalgia. "we didn't know any better. hell, i always thought we'd end up together and look where that got us. i don't think we should go back to that time," the homme added, the admission laden with the realization that the decisions made in the innocence of youth carried consequences that reverberated into adulthood. the echoes of mistakes made and lessons learned lingered in the air, a testament to the inevitable evolution that every connection undergoes. / @reticvnt

standing alongside carson, the streetlights illuminating what had once been their playground, it felt like jodi went back in time. the image in her head so perfectly resembling the one from years ago that she could almost hear it — the sounds of their innocent laughter echoing in her ears. when she allowed herself to reminisce on their childhood, a hint of a smile involuntarily made a way onto her face. yet it felt bittersweet. though she held those days close to her heart, comparing them to what had become of them now was heart-breaking at times if she let herself think about it often enough. it was difficult to avoid the comparison between what once was and what had become of her years later. she hated it sometimes, wishing to be as naive as she once used to be — when she didn't need her different forms of escapism to make sense of the world. jodi moved to sit on a bench, hugging her knees to her chest. “oh, to not have a care in the world again,” she whispered, eyes glazing over the park that held a million little memories. a time when she was just allowed to exist freely, express freely and disregard any consequences. she longed for those feelings again — to be so innocent and oblivious and without a care what the future might look like. “i always thought so too,” she confessed, having never once allowed herself to say those words before. “do you..” she hesitated, averting her attention fully to carson. “do you ever have any regrets?”

the night air hung heavy with tension as he stood on the dimly lit street, the echoes of distant music and laughter fading into the background. he watched as they approached, their presence a reminder of a past he had tried desperately to distance himself from. "i thought i told you to stay away," he muttered, the words a defensive barrier erected against the emotions that threatened to resurface. the warning lingered in the air, a declaration that carried the weight of unspoken history. his jaw tightened, the frustration and pain of unspoken grievances bubbling beneath the surface. he had built walls to protect himself, to shield his heart from the vulnerability that their presence seemed to unravel. "you don't get it, do you?"his tone was sharp, the frustration seeping into his words. "i needed you to stay away for a reason." the homme shook his head, the bitterness of past wounds resurfacing. "some things can't be fixed with words, and some wounds never fully heal." the silence that followed hung in the air like a heavy fog, the weight of unspoken regrets and lingering pain creating a palpable tension. the street, witness to their shared history, now stood as a backdrop to a confrontation neither of them had anticipated. "i can't do this," he finally muttered, the admission a surrender to the tumultuous emotions that threatened to engulf him. "not now, not ever." / @reticvnt

nora was used to shifting the conversation whenever she got involved, swaying opinions in favor of her own and getting whatever she wanted out of it at the end. she deemed it one of her talents sometimes. she wasn’t used to trying so hard and the more a situation got away from her, the more out of control she felt. and standing right in front of joshua, she felt like she wanted to disappear. “when did you become so hostile?” she joked, a light smirk playing at the corner of her lips as she crossed her arms over her chest defensively. in reality, she wanted to appear confident — as if joshua’s words did not slice through her heart like a knife but the more he spoke, the more her confidence wavered and by the end, she wasn’t sure if she could get her way with this one. she decided to drop all the facades, for once allowing herself to be vulnerable in the moment. “then tell me why,” she spoke, dropping her arms to her sides. she was trying so hard not to falter. she was not going to walk away. she wanted answers. “tell me why and i will,” she conditioned. “stay away, i mean.”

the night air carried the weight of unresolved tension as sasha stood on the dimly lit street, her gaze fixed on the approaching figure of them. the ache of unspoken grievances and the residue of past wounds seeped into the atmosphere, creating an electric charge between them. "you've got a lot of nerve, showing your face around here again," sasha's voice was laced with a mix of bitterness and frustration. the words hung in the air, a defensive barrier erected to shield herself from the emotions that their presence threatened to stir. she crossed her arms, a defensive gesture that mirrored the emotional walls she had built. "you left without a word. what did you expect?" the silence that followed was thick with the weight of unspoken history, the street now a canvas for the complex emotions that simmered beneath the surface. the emme shook her head, the frustration evident in her expression. "intentions don't change the fact that you did hurt me. leaving without a word, without an explanation... it's not something you can just sweep under the rug. what the hell could you possibly want from me? hell, i don't even know why i agreed to meeting you again.'' / @reticvnt

there were very few people who managed to push past luke’s walls and whom he felt comfortable sharing the vulnerable sides of himself with. sasha grew to be one of them. a shared look was enough to sense how she felt towards him, the air thickening with the tension of unspoken words. he was doubtful they would get to even speak, seeing as how he didn’t mentioned that their last conversation would be exactly that — their last. he wanted to crack a joke and maybe she would be reluctant to laugh along. until she would. then, things would go back to normal and he wouldn’t have to face the fact that he hurt the one person he deeply cared for. he let her speak, heart growing heavy with her words; ones he couldn’t believe were directed at him though he felt like he deserved them. only when she was done did he let out a breath and spoke, “i had to leave. there was a lot going on and i couldn’t tell you everything because..” he faltered, eyes looking down and away from the look on her face. the one he so badly wanted to take away yet failed to find the right words to. “there were so many times i wanted to call you, believe me, but i got swept up with everything and by then, it felt too late. and i know i haven’t given you a lot of reasons to think the best of me but come on,” he took a step closer, testing his limits. “you’re here now. part of you still cares, right? you came.” his eyes landed on her face once again, grasping at any signs that his words resonated somehow. “please tell me it’s not too late.”

the city lights flickered in the distance as she stood on the rooftop, the cool night air offering little solace from the storm brewing within. her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of them approaching, their presence a stark reminder of a history margot had tried so desperately to bury. "last time i said I never wanted to see you again, and yet here you are," margot's voice was an icy dagger, each word laced with the bitterness of past wounds. the skyline, once a symbol of endless possibilities, now stood witness to the collision of unresolved emotions. she scoffed, her arms crossed defensively. "don't even mention wanting to talk. what's left to talk about? you made your choice the last time we stood on this rooftop." "last time i said i never wanted to see you again," sherepeated, her voice unwavering. "and now, all i see is a painful reminder of everything you walked away from. don't," she interrupted, her tone cutting through the night air. "don't act like words can fix what you broke. some things are irreparable." the tension between them hung in the air, a testament to the gravity of their shared history. the rooftop, once a place of solace, now stood as a stark symbol of the fractured connection that lingered between them. the city lights below seemed to mirror the complexities of their emotions, each one a flickering beacon in the vast expanse of unresolved pain. / @reticvnt

hunter never imagined there would come a day when he felt heavy returning to a place that had once provided him so much comfort. it felt like the minute he set foot on the rooftop once again, the frenzied stream of thoughts flowing in his brain had ceased and he’d become increasingly more aware of the sound of his own heartbeat. he opened his mouth to speak yet could not bring himself to utter a single word in defense. last time I said I never wanted to see you again. he could never forget the final words she’d hurled his way like a dagger. he knew he deserved every single word then and he deserved every single word now but the pain was all the same, like reopening a wound that had never fully healed — just sedated. no amount of practiced speeches or words of reconciliation would repair what he broke though he came to the rooftop naive enough to try, if for a sliver of hope that he could mend their connection. he had a tendency to walk away when things got too overwhelming, a habit of self-sabotaging he'd picked up from his own blood. leaving was always so easy for him though not once had he ever faced the aftermath. not once had he ever felt the need to come back but the reminders of margot were everywhere; overwhelming on some nights more than others. the reminder of everything he’d left behind and lost haunting him whenever he allowed himself to sit still; void of any distractions. “i know,” he admitted, his sharp tone attempting to mask his wavering confidence. “i know i walked away and that i probably have no right coming back here to say this but margot—” he paused, a shaky exhale revealing his reluctance to continue. “please,” he pleaded, shoulders falling in defeat. there was no point in trying to dance around the obvious; he messed up and he knew it, and he had a tendency to avoid confrontations and confessions but there was no avoiding this. “i know my words mean little to you and i know it’s going to be hard to believe a word i say but please believe me when i say i’m sorry,” the least of what he could offer up — an apology. “and if you’ll let me,” he started, tongue gliding over his lips as the cold wind pricked at his face, no match for the needles poking through his heart. “if you’ll let me, i want to explain everything. i want to make things right. it was never my intention to hurt you but i just had to leave.”

— Susan Sontag, from As Consciousness Is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks 1964-1980