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found the cutest little city garden in bruges

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And on This Day, I turned 20 so I took selfies đ¤
So last night i went to see state champs, ended up on stage jamming with the band/tyler and got to meet ryan and derek đđť To say it was amazing is an understatement đ
The One in Which Heâs Alive // l.h.
(mobile) masterlist
word count: 2.7k+
summary: itâs in the pouring rain and at two in the morning that suddenly, luke hemmings stands on your doorstepâsoakedâto tell you how much he doesnât miss you.
His hair, his clothesâliterally his everything is soaked to the core, as he turns around under the pouring rain and climbs the steps towards your parentsâ patio, where he, at least, is a little more protected from the wetness of the storm. Before you even get one word out, he begins to talk. And he talks. And talks. About how much he doesnât miss you. How great he is. How much he loves life right now. âI ainât missing you,â he shouts over the downpour and thunder. âIâve spent the last months actually living! I feel like I have an actual life again,â he says, throwing his hands out, like he couldnât keep the excitement in him. He looks at you and grins. The corners of his mouth raise quicker than the lightning thatâs bound to come again any second now, and it splits his face in two so violently, you fear itâs going to rip.
âOkayâŚâ you tell him quietly with a raised eyebrow, because you donât know what else to say to a guy professing his non-existent feelings to you, when just a couple of months prior, youâd been in this exact situation, though then it was him, spending every second trying to convince you how much he loves you.
âSeriously,â Luke says. âIâm so perfect. I donât miss you at all. Everythingâs fine.â
âLukeââ
âI donât want you and I donât need you anymore.â
Crossing your arms over your chest, you shift your weight onto your other foot and lean against the doorframe. âLuke, why are you here? And why are you telling me this at two in the morning?â
He grins again. âBecause I thought about you. Because Iâm always thinking about you.â His grin falls for a nanosecond. âBut Iâm over you. I promise I am. I mean, Iâm so alive, baby. You should feel what I feel.â He lifts his hands again, but this time he grips the doorframe with themâwhich youâre leaning against. His face comes near you, and for a moment you think heâs about to kiss you, causing you to back away. You arenât sure, if the small flinch you see is real or not, but he doesnât give you a chance to analyse, as he begins to talk again. âLiterally every feeling I feel is suddenly enhanced by a hundred. Theyâre so intense, it still knocks the breath out of me, even after months.â
You donât answer but rather take in his wet appearance. Sure, there is a cocky grin sitting on his face and there is no alcohol-stench coming from his breath, but still, you feel like he isnât himself right now. âWhatâs going on, Luke?â you ask, trying to gently coerce an answer out of him.
âNothingâs wrong,â he says immediately, the grin coming back to life.
âYou canât just come here and tell me how fine you are and how much you donât need me and expect me to believe you are fine. No normal person does this.â Sighing, you uncross your arms, doing something you wouldnât have thought youâd do, ever again. âLook, if you want, you can come in. I can get you a towel or something and we can talk properly.â
Tonight is just full of surprises, because suddenly, he begins to shake his head no and whines like an actual four-year-oldâwith an actual voice thatâs higher than normal. âNo, I donât want to come in,â he saysâor rather moans. âI just wanted to say those things Iâve said and now Iâm leaving.â
Rushing to grab hold of his arm before he steps off your patio, you shake your head at him again, forgetting that he cannot see you as he has his back turned towards you. âHold on for a sec, Luke,â you say. âPlease.â
Facing you again, he looks at you with an expectant expression. A moment of silence later, he raises an impatient eyebrow.
âItâs justâJust because we arenât together anymore, doesnât mean I donât care about you.â And that is the truth. Luke has been such a large part of your life, it is physically impossible to stop caring about him from one sudden moment to another.
This time his eyebrow doesnât raise in impatience, but rather hurt, it seems. âYeahâŚumâthanks, I guess. But I really have to get going.â
You tug at his arm again, getting impatient yourself. âOh, for Godâs sake, just come inside for a minute. Youâll get sick wandering around, dripping as you are.â
It takes you another full minute of pulling at his arm to get him moving, though at last, he steps foot inside the house where it all ended.
///
Do you feel it? My love for you? I donât, really. Because loving you has become a part of me and my soulâlike I was put here on the sole purpose of loving you. I was so used to this feeling that having it ripped away from me felt like ice cold and hot water thrown in my face at the same time. It felt like someone was trying to rip me to shreds from the insideâparticularly from my heart.
///
âHere is a towel and here, a change of clothes.â You hand him the pieces of fabrics. âTheyâre my dadâs, but you two are similar sizes of giant, so I think itâll fit.â Like you hoped, this raises a genuine smile to his lips, as he takes the clothes and the towel from you, nodding in appreciation.
âIâll return them to youâŚsomeday,â he says, smiling sheepishly. Luke has a reputation of keeping borrowed things, but it doesnât really matter anyways.
âDonât worry about it, honestly. Now go change, I donât want you staining our furniture,â you tell him, before turning around and walking towards the kitchen.
âWhere are you going?â
âIâm gonna fix us some hot chocolate, of course. I sure hope you didnât have seafood before this.â You grin at him.
///
âYouâre gonna make us hot chocolate? Now?â You ask, laughing.
âWhy not?â Luke asks, pulling the mugs out of the cupboard.
Jumping onto the counter, you cross your legs and roll your eyes at him as he places the mugs next to your thighs. âUh, because we just had sea food! Youâre gonna throw up.â
âMe? If I have to go through this, then so do you!â he exclaims, laughing, nudging your knee with his hips.
âExcuse me?â You push him away, giggling. âIâm not an idiot! I know the outcome of this equationâI will not drink the hot chocolate!â
Luke ignores you, prepping the two drinks. Then he places one mug beside your thigh. His eyes hold a glint as he smirks. âOh you will.â
âNot in a million years, Hemmings,â you say, laughing and jumping off the counter. âWhy would I?â
Leaving his own mug beside yours, he comes at you slowlyâthe playful and somewhat also devilish glint still in his eyes. âBecause if you doâŚIâm gonna promise you amazing sex tonight. Sex so amazing, you will never be the same. Iâm telling you, babe.â
A snort bursts from your throat as you bend over and cannot contain the laughter in you. âYouâre gonna bribe me with sex?â you ask, giving his chest a slap. But you donât pull your hand away. Instead, you let it wander towards the crook of his neck up to the sides of his face and then you pull him down to you, so you can whisper something in his ear. âBabe. If I wanted, I could just tie you up and give myself the most ah-may-zing sex. Iâm an independent ass bitch.â
All of the sudden, his arms are wound tightly around your waists, and your feet arenât on the ground anymore. Your legs wrap around his hips automatically, as do your arms around his neck. Kisses are being trailed down your throat, as Luke walks you two out of the kitchen. âWhat about our hot chocolate, huh?â you ask, grinning.
âWhat hot chocolate?â He smiles at you sweetly, and then captures your mouth with his.
///
Awkward air engulfs you two, as youâre sitting side by side on the small couch, each one blowing at the hot chocolate, trying to quicken its cooling processâor maybe you were just avoiding the person sitting beside you, but who knows?
âAre you alright?â you begin, as you cannot take this god-damn silence any longer. âTell me whatâs going on.â
He lowers the mug slightly, smiling at you. âLike I said, Iâm perfectly fine. Everythingâs good.â He raises the hot chocolate to his lips and takes a rushed sip. âFuck,â Luke curses, âthatâs hot.â
Cocking your head to the side, you watch him lower the mug and stand up. âIâm just gonnaâŚget myself a glass of water,â he says, pointing to your kitchen and wandering off without waiting for your reply.
Something is definitely wrong with him, you decide. The way heâs acting confuses you. Who the hell visits his ex-girlfriend just to tell her how fine he is? Heâs somehow giddy and restless and exhausted at the same time, like heâs on edge. Like he cannot contain whateverâs going on inside him. The shadows underneath his eyes and the scruff on his jaw tells you he hasnât slept well in a long time, but then again, he never slept long nor well. Lukeâs always been a restless personâalways working on something in his head or with his guitar. Sometimes heâd wake up in the middle of the night and have to write or else heâd forget the lyrics that sprung onto him in his dream. You loved being woken by a sleepy Luke and his guitar, though. You loved lying in the dark, listening to his raspy voice singing quiet words you knew were meant for just you.
Somehow, you know that nowadays the reason he wakes up in the middle of the night isnât to write love songs about you anymore.
///
You once said, to be hurt means to be alive. For we cannot feel the hurt, if we arenât alive and living and putting ourselves out there to be hurt. Well, Iâve spent the last months living. I was hurt. Or rather I am hurt. Everything hurts. Therefore I am, in fact, probably the most alive motherfucker on this planet right now, because it HURTS. What, you might ask? Not having you, is one answer. I love you. With every ounce of my being, with every beat of my heart and every breath I take, I entirely, fully and unconditionally love you.
///
âPlease stay the night? Itâs four in the morning and the storm doesnât look like itâs about to pass anytime soon. You can take the guest room,â you say, wringing your hands in front of you. âItâs really no problem, and Iâd feel a whole lot better, knowing you arenât walking home right now.â
Thereâs another storm, and itâs in his eyes. Heâs looking at the wall to your right, debating. You arenât sure why it is such a hard decision for him to make, but you pray for him to stay. You will never forgive yourself, if he walks away now.
The seconds tick away, and finally, he nods once. âOkay,â he says, throwing you a shy smile. It surprises you, how after everything you two have already been through, he still has his shy moments. But this is just how Luke is, and you love this silent part about him.
Reaching your hand out, you wait for him to give you his mug, though, instead, he stands up as well. âI got it,â he says. âItâs the least I can do.â
///
Even to death, one might say.
///
She hands you the letter with her eyes lowered so you wonât see the tears in her eyes, but you do anyways. Youâve never seen her cry before. Sheâs someone you cannot even imagine how sheâd look crying, because she is one of the happiest people you know, but now you do. You see the redness of the tender skin around and on her eyelids, the tremble of her lips and the crease between her eyebrows as she tries to hold the dam back. She looks smaller somehow. Like she doesnât have enough energy to straighten her back. Like she is already focusing everything in her to keep herself from falling apart.
You donât blame her. Rather you blame yourself.
Your hand comes up to wipe away a tear you havenât noticed before. Between taking in her broken appearance and staring at the letter in her hand, you havenât paid attention to your own body and emotions. Now that you reach for the letter, you notice the penetrating pain in your chest which keeps your lungs from working properly.
âBreathe, sweetheart,â Liz whispers softly. She presses the letter into your stomach, but instead of removing her hand after you clutch it with both of yours, she encloses it around your trembling ones and squeezes. One hand comes up to brush the hair from your face. Itâs wet and sticky around your skin. âIt wasnât your fault,â she says firmly, her eyes a hard and genuine blue. Her palm stays against your cheek. You can feel her thumb soothingly wipe the continuous stream of tears away, as her own flows down her face.
And then she leans in and hugs you. Her arms come around your shoulders tightly, and she squeezes seemingly every emotion into you. And somehow she slowly squeezes yours out of you. And she rubs your back with one hand, shushing. She holds you, as both of you try to fix your hearts with this one hug.
///
Dear love,
You once said, to be hurt means to be alive. For we cannot feel the hurt, if we arenât alive and living and putting ourselves out there to be hurt. Well, Iâve spent the last months living. I was hurt. Or rather I am hurt. Everything hurts. Therefore I am, in fact, probably the most alive motherfucker on this planet right now, because it HURTS. What, you might ask? Not having you, is one answer. I love you. With every ounce of my being, with every beat of my heart and every breath I take, I entirely, fully and unconditionally love you. Even to death, one might say.
Do you feel it? My love for you? I donât, really. Because loving you has become a part of me and my soulâlike I was put here on the sole purpose of loving you. I was so used to this feeling that having it ripped away from me felt like ice cold and hot water thrown in my face at the same time. It felt like someone was trying to rip me to shreds from the insideâparticularly from my heart.
I was hurting before my heart was crushedâbefore you begin to think this is your fault. It isnât. This whole thing (us breaking up) started because of what I was going through. None of this is your fault. I never want you to feel that. I never wanted you to feel any of the hurt I felt, in fact, and I might burn in hell, if you are. Iâm sorry, my love. Iâm a selfish idiot, and I couldnât leave without seeing you one last time. I cannot apologise enough.
Please forgive me.
Yours truly, an angel (as of recently)
PS: That was me, trying to lighten the mood.
PPS: I love you.
PPPS: So so much.
///
âCall me, if you need anything, okay?â you tell him, helping him adjust the sweater of your father youâve given him around his broad shoulders.
âWill do, love.â Your heart clenches at the nickname, but you solely smile. It feels good to hear it.
He looks at you with a look that causes your insides to churn and your legs to wobble. Then he leans down and presses a soft kiss to the space between your temple and foreheadâsomething he does when he wants to kiss both at the same time, he once said. Turning on his heels, he quickly jumps down the steps of your front porch, leaving you to watch him walk away under the clear blue sky after a storm. It reminds you of the colour of his eyes.
a/n holy shit. i wasâand still amâseriously debating whether or not i should put this online. the idea came to me after listening to missinâ you by the summer set for some unknown reason, as that song is not a sad song at all. iâm scared to put this out there, since it doesnât have a happy ending. but then again, not all stories do. and iâm sure you know, this is purely fictional and i simply borrowed luke as a solely fictional character for a just as fictional story.Â
as always, feedback is greatly appreciated.
much love. my inbox is open. always.
itlukey replied to your post âitlukey started following you DID UNFOLLOW MEâ
yea :/ by accident when i was searching ur blog ?:/
i smell cap

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itlukey started following you
DID UNFOLLOW ME
The first episodes of s4 were good, they were on the right track, but they took the drama and the realism WAY too far. It is really evident that the writers are white, they do not know how to make the season truly about her. But what bothers me the most is muslim/poc giving constructive criticism and fans hating on them, saying everything is good because it is realistic. Learn to listen to muslim people and poc, it is THEIR representation that is being ruined for the 100th time
Exaaacctlyyy!!!
I'm so fucking tired of hearing 'It'S REaLiStIc!'. Ugh. I just.....am so tired. When will the whites stop?
The only reason why I am still watching skamfr s4 is because of Imane! Her character is really well-writtenâ the speeches that she holds are SO good and the french audience should hear them. Her season however? Absolute shit, every single thing about it is shit. S3 was good for the first half but they overdramatised and sexualised so much I had to stop watching. I just want my girl Imane to get appreciated.
In addition to my last ask, I am watching through instagram and only give the youtube channel views if I actually think the clip is good. Todayâs one was good, Imane snapped and discussed racial profiling in the media.
Mmm, yeah.
I feel so bad for Imane. She was wronged even more than og Sana. She deserves sooooo much better.
Yeah, I saw gifs.
I just think, there's a thin line between showing what poc struggle with and face every day, and making it a lesson to white people on why they shouldn't be racist at the expense of the character of colour.
Skam Fr is leaning heavily towards the latter.
I love that she called the good out, but, nothign really came of it in the end.
They all the took the 'Imane is meant and picking on us!!' approach. đ