#is anyone going to see aespa in chicago btw??

[jettithink]

yjm - pink hour

"so that no monster can chase us anymore" + karina x gn!reader + cw: none. all fluff. + word count: 577 + inspired by way home by txt + i will be making a tag list for my fics, reply or send an ask if you want to be included! + idk how to make friends on here but pls lets be moots

"Suddenly a cool wind blows I hear our song in my ears I pedal again to the end of the hill Run and run until the sunset"

The chill that blew through the balcony carried the subtle scent of the lavender bushes growing underneath you. Your eyes close and your lungs fill as you inhale, letting your head tilt back to catch the early afternoon sun on your face. Such a small intimate moment with yourself reminds you of your humanity, and a little smile appears at the thought.

The only interruption you allow without complaint is the sight of a beautiful girl approaching you. She has her hands tucked behind her back and a sheepish giggle dying to escape her lips. Jimin stops just a few feet from you, waiting to say anything until you finish removing your headphones.

"I got you a surprise while I was out," she states, a fact made evident by her arms still hidden behind her. "Is that so?" you question with a laugh. You could not help but be tickled at her excitement. It was always the silly little things that made her the happiest, made her laugh the loudest, made her blush the hardest. Her appreciation for the small things in life was one of her best features, aside from that infectious smile she was displaying in front of you now. "Do I get to see what it is?" "You have to pick, right hand or left hand?" You lean forward, deep in thought over such a tough decision. "Left."

A yellow flower pops out from behind her body. She places it gently on your head, eyes focused and hand steady to ensure it does not fall. It falls anyways, but you catch it in the nook of your arm. Carefully lifting it up to admire the bright sunny color, you see another flower appear just beyond your focus - a rich pink tulip in Jimin's grasp, making its way up to the notch behind her ear.

"Where did you find these? I thought you were just going to run some errands," you ask, still in awe of the simple act of kindness. You patted the space next to you and took her free hand in yours, guiding her to the seat as she still toyed with her flower. "I did. I was driving back here and I saw a little patch of them. I just felt like picking some..." she trailed off, too shy to tell you that the flowers reminded her of you, or that she wanted to give you a gift just to see you smile.

You let out a hum of amused acknowledgement. "They're so pretty. Thank you for thinking of me."

Jimin adjusts her posture to lean into your side, absorbing the warmth from your body. A faint song can be heard from your headphones at your side, which piques her attention. "What were you listening to?"

After finally getting your tulip to stay put in your hair, you wordlessly grab your earbuds and hand one to her. You reverse back to the beginning and hit play, and slip back into your quaint moment of humanity. Your girlfriend next to you closes her eyes and lets the music envelop her too, the song embracing you both in a contented sigh of peace.

"Make a wish up to the sky May we remember each other forever When we call each other's names We run together forever"

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Strings, Part 2

Into the wilderness: story 45

Here’s another string I didn’t pull.

It’s a handsome young man, military, muscled, groomed. He sat next to me in Middle English Language and Literature. He broadcasted unfiltered masculinity; he also was an English major. We became friends, often sitting on the grass of the University’s central grounds in front of the library. We’d talk about literature, mostly, and our futures. I wanted to be an English professor, an ambition I knew would not come to be as I spoke it. He had been recruited by the government’s “special services,” which I understood somehow to be the CIA. Immediately after graduation, he was flying to West Germany to learn “languages.” This is why he was in Middle English- understanding the roots of Germanic language facilitated learning to speak it. This was before the fall of the Berlin Wall. East Germany still existed.

I liked him. I liked his clean cut meatiness and the intelligence the muscles did not initially portray. I’m pretty sure he liked me too, but he had a girlfriend. We’d talk in the prairie sunshine, our life strings pulling us away from one another instead of toward. Unlike my fanciful ambitions, his girI studied nursing. She would go with him. They were a thing.

Yet, he sat next to me in class, on the grounds, in the cafeteria. I knew I wasn’t the only one who felt the frisson.

We never crossed the invisible lines between us. I didn’t tell him how I felt. And he didn’t tell me. We both knew our strings didn’t cross, though we fancied jumping over.

My string wrapped around me like a shroud. I woefully respected commitment, and still do. I would not be the woman who crossed another woman. My principles determined this future, rather than my desires.

There would be no travel to Germany, no life as a military wife, no angst from life with a man who couldn’t tell me what he did. Instead, I’d leave for Hawaii to delay entering adulthood. I’d take classes at the University of Hawaii at Manoa, make friends I didn’t keep in touch with after I left. I’d eat too many cookies in the cookie store where I worked. I’d eat dinners with my best friend’s grandmother and befriend an 89-year-old gentleman whose family worried I was wooing him for a sugar daddy.

After 6 months, I’d leave the islands for New York City, a new string unfurling an entirely new dimension. I’d begin my first professional job and learn sadly about the patriarchal systems that tie women’s ambitions to hardship.

As I look back on these decisions, they seem hardwired rather than choices on a path. These hardwires pulled me to challenge myself in ways a traditional life never could. I broke the strings my parents had sown- that I was destined to marry and bear children, a destiny only seen through their lens, not mine. I knew my future was words, configurations of letters and sentences and paragraphs to craft meaning out of nothing.

These strings pulled and unpulled, raveled and unfurled. They are the stories I’ve lived and the stories I’ve lived to tell. These stories are my life, and I have many more to share.

I would love to hear from you, even if, especially if, you disagree. Perhaps we can bring back the American tradition of debate. Please like and share this blog with others. Subscribe to receive it by email and go directly to the Walk the Moon website (www.walk-the-moon.com) to peruse the full collection of articles and updates. You can email me from the Walk the Moon website as well.

Source: Strings, Part 2