#theodorefinch

[lavuribleeds]

Finch was here; he saved me. He brought me spring, he made me want to live and wander. He was here, and will always be here. He made me want to remember moments, and stop counting the days. He made me fall, he made me love. He taught me that small things count, and a smile can save someone. I'm a freak, weirdo, and unpredictable but never a label, not a diagnosis, not an illness. It's lovely to be able to travel in a world created by Finch. I'm rooted but flowing—I am forever changed. I am here, because Finch was here.

—lavuri, finch and eternal xoxo

[finchandme]

Lepiej trzymać nieszczęśliwe, wściekłe, złe i nieprzyjemne słowa na osobności, gdzie można je upilnować, żeby nie zaskoczyły nikogo znienacka.

[violetinyourgarden]

"I'm still here, and I'm grateful, because otherwise I would be missing this. sometimes it's good to be awake."

- Jennifer Niven, All The Bright Places

[finalvoyager]

I. I’m thinking about love.

[…]

I’m thinking in silence.

It’s incurable. And it is too late.

Yunho drew a breath in when the incessant knocking of a finger — done none other than by Park Seonghwa — snapped him out of his trance. A slight glance over his shoulder had proven his assumptions to be all correct, that if Seonghwa had tried to hide his emotions away, he did not do a good job in doing it at all, judging by how often he shook his thigh to repel his nervousness.

He blinked, the realization suddenly dawned at him upon the fact that the grim painting that was painted in a ridiculously detailed manner staring at him, frowning up Seonghwa’s frown. As if the world was pulling some kind of a sick joke on him, the two hands in the clock were always facing against each other whenever he looked at it. He detested the fact that they were sitting in a glum-looking room, in the middle of a couple therapy session with a woman smiling a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Only then, starting to feel as if Seonghwa’s nervousness started to rub off on him — except for the jittery legs, which is naturally, his biggest pet peeve.

 “How often do you try to talk to each other?”

 “Often.”

 “Well.”

They hadn’t planned to answer at the same time, which resulted to them staring at each other for a short while — to measure something, or anything at all. Deciding it was not the right time to lament over the coincidence, Seonghwa, mirroring the frown, offered the counsellor a smile.

 “Often, and well.”

Like a kid who got his hand trapped in a cookie jar, Yunho shut his mouth and spent the rest of the time looking over the window, envying the way the droplet of rain glossing over the cool surface, wishing he could ditch this weekly meeting behind and just soak himself in a warm, much-needed bath.

 II. Everything remained unspoken.

Everything remained anything but.

Butterflies — there were none of sort, unlike all those fairy tales his mother had sicced on him when he was merely a five-year-old. There was no touch that left a burn mark on his skin — no nothing, none at all. There was not any lingering stare or playful glances people in love would normally do.

The fact that they were anything but normal.

 “Mrs. Kim assigned us to a group activity.” Seonghwa said in exchange of greeting.

Group?

How ridiculously and disgustingly fitting.

Seonghwa, knowing full well how Yunho was, continued as if he had no care in the world. “She wants us to read a book together. Or rather, I read what you like and you read mine.”

“You don’t like Austen.” It was not a question, Yunho merely stated, not bothering to look up from his book; with anger barely scathing the surface, pumping something poisonous to his heart.

“Point.” He said, bitterness laced on his tone as if someone just spat in his coffee.

That marked the first and the last conversation they had that day, with Seonghwa leaving their shared apartment behind with a slam, followed by a burning stare, that would surely drill a hole on his back, only if looks could kill.

III. Evil has ways of surprising one. Suddenly it turns round and says: “You have misunderstood me,” and perhaps it really is so.

Melancholy,

[…]

Were the sounds on a winter’s night.

The man was already half waist deep within To the Lighthouse, snuggling comfortably on top of a couch he had magically transformed into a fort made of pillows. His golden locks were sprawled on the pillow’s surface, covering nearly half of it just by the length itself.

That was then.

Thunders boomed outside his window like a racing car speeding over his street rang over, leaving aggravating ringing sounds in his ear; effectively saving Seonghwa from all the troubles he would be in after kicking the door open, tears clustered in the corner of his eyes, and smelling like a few cheap bottled beers he liked to purchase every so often.

Yunho frowned — it was foreseeable, maybe that was what he was meant to spend his entire existence doing; frowning upon what kind of things Park Seonghwa would pull in his doorstep one at a time.

He remained stiff like a boulder blown by the wind when Seonghwa struggled to crawl up to him, framing his face with his hands, choking up a sob, and said, “Maybe if I had loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.”

[…]

Yunho then spent the entire night trying to scrub the stain of vomit on his pajamas top as he tried to process the truth that Seonghwa had been reading it somewhere in the corner of his mind, barely containing his inner turmoil seeping through the cracked facade he so often wear.

IV. Night, what now is, and what’s to come?

It was raining again that day, with Yunho suspecting that the weather secretly had tried to match up with what the tiny weather forecast man reporting in his barren heart — that if he had to describe, looked like a bare desert with nothing to see more than miles and miles away.

The only thing that was holding him sane was the book with crumpled pages — indicating how many times the person holding to it had read it over and over again — tucked neatly just on top of his lap.

Mingi, who was sitting a feet away from him, was staring at him.

“You’re not eating.”

“I am not.” He resonated. It was a plain fact and he did not have any intention to lie to him at all.

The guy just let out an amused chuckle, the fact that he still remembered how he was really like from years back ignited the fire within him. Something that he could no longer feel with Seonghwa. Yunho squirmed under his intensive gaze, suddenly feeling the need to hold something just for the sake of doing it.

“You’ve never changed.”

That sentence burned a hole in the back of his head, leaving an irradicable yet imaginary scar.

V. I … topple into affectless isolation,

and the refugee of memory.

Love, for instance, we go on,

In an orderly manner, to the next.

He had read The Waves a few years back, with Seonghwa’s hand smoothing over the crease on the small of his back. Seeking refuge under the shoe tree that they had found during one of their ventures together. He had tried to respect what his boyfriend practically worshipped, until their time together was dangled up to be a deadly waltz of pain and agony.

Then, he had openly state how he hated it.

Naturally, Seonghwa hated his choices of literature.

That was just how it was.

VI. Let the world go, let the poor heart pause,

and when it will, lie down and sleep.

“I am calling quit.”

Yunho had been the one who started the conversation over one of the rare breakfasts they don’t normally have. Words spread over like butter melted on top of the warm toast, and dawned down upon Seonghwa’s consciousness, his hand which was holding the butter knife itched like it was once two summers ago when he had touched a spider by accident.

It was a heart-warming experience; this one, was not.

“I want to break up.” Yunho tried again upon receiving no response in return, and somehow sounded like he tried to convince himself rather than confirming Seonghwa’s assumptions.

Seonghwa chugged on his glass, downing what was left of his orange juice that left a bitter taste in his mouth to prevent himself from gagging — feeling like a fish out of the water and was having a real trouble breathing.

Yunho had originally thought Seonghwa would leave him basking in an eerie silence — just like he did every argument — but instead, he extended his hand out and place it on top of his, obviously wanting to feel him to confirm his assumptions that he was not some materialized story written from the top of his head, rather than to reassure Yunho.

Yunho felt like he was more in need of reassurance himself.

Which he let him did.

“One week,” that was all Seonghwa could muster up that day. “Give me one week.” His eyes was filled with utter terror and irrational fear, and Yunho felt like he was tuning in some classic American horror story in a agonizingly slow loop, unable to do anything to help the main character but remained rooted on his spot.

VII. False beginning will lead one to false ending.

And of course, my guilt,

Always in the periphery of my vision,

Gnawing on his skin like a wild boar barring its teeth.

Yunho watched as more people pacing back and forth in his usually deserted apartment. It was such a sight, if not for the fact that he was also seeing thousand of memories and scenarios that he had pictured alongside with Seonghwa passing him by not so much as a glance or a pat on his back.

Already used to having people invading his safe space, everything went by twice as quick. The sounds that came with house-moving activities were drowned by the ear-piercing voices, nagging in the back of his head. Like he was tuning in an old movie in a muted television and twice the speed.

He glanced over the stack of Virginia Woolf’s books laying down lifelessly on the top of his coffee table, waiting for its owner to come back and claim them — where if they were left where they were, they would probably not see the light of the day again with what the man originally had in mind.

His water-heavy head felt lighter and lighter as Seonghwa’s things were being shipped away, now having all the water drained of his head. Yunho looked over the now opened window, where the colors all mushed up into one entity; creating a weird combination people so often spend time to gawk over, or so famously called as the rainbow, picturing what was their supposedly perfect happiness was like.

Indeed, love conquered all, but ego.

[booktipsandmore]

Iai, quem mais leu Por Lugares Incríveis e chorou igual um neném? Rsrs (eu choro só de lembrar🤧) 💬 Comenta aqui se já leram e como foi a experiência de vocês com esse livro?? . . Tem resenha dele aqui no IG!!! #porlugaresincriveis #meme #memesliterarios #livros #choro #theodorefinch #finch #violetmarkey #allthebrightplaces #jenniferniven #depressãonãoéfrescura #booktipsandmore📖 #booktipsandmore #bookstagrammer #bookstagram https://www.instagram.com/p/CD1t_uBjYJQ/?utm_medium=tumblr

[causeofmyeuphoria-ss]

Movie: All the bright places.

Too late, already in love. ♥️

If you watch this movie, you will understand how can small things mean so much and how a person can give you so many memories in a small period of time. How can a person help you overcome struggles but can't help themselves.

A precious scene from a precious movie ❤️

[withoutanyfs]

"Sometimes Ultraviolet,

things feel true to us even if they're not."

- Theodore Finch, All the bright places

[jenniferniven]

Today is #FinchDay2020 and #IAmHere 🌸💛 I am here to listen and talk and remind you you’re not alone. I am here to thank you for all you mean to me. I am here to use my voice for those who feel they have none. I am here to make it lovely and be kind, to never judge or stigmatize others. I am here to let you know I understand, I hurt, I grieve, I struggle, and it’s okay. I am here to say I am enough and you are too. I am here to help. I am here to love. And I am here to say there are bright places, even in dark times. And that we can be that bright place for ourselves and others. 💖 #finchwasreal #iamhere2020 #finchday #theodorefinch #mentalhealthmatters #mentalhealthawareness #stopthestigma #youarenotalone #loveeachother #helpisoutthere #stickynotes #suicideprevention #makeitlovely #youarebrightplaces https://www.instagram.com/p/B_dZL0TJCnT/?igshid=1f1k88ehv8jn5

[iwasheree]

don’t tell me I spoiled All the Bright Places for you later

April 24, 1:30am

2 hours 25 minutes since I finished reading All the Bright Places

story time.

halfway into it, I couldn’t help but wonder what had driven Jennifer Niven towards developing such intense character arcs, that too, with remarkey-able perfection. i ended up googling Niven’s biography only to stumble across a google prompt of—“how does Theodore finch die in All the Bright Places”. Commonsensical reaction upon this almost-revelation is to lose your shit. I, contrarily, made a joke out of whoever thought it POSSIBLE for Finch to die. 80’s Finch can die, Nerd Finch can die, ANY Finch can die but Theodore finch? LAUGHING MY ASS OFF?

guess who’s laughing her existence off now.

also, update: the pain isn’t getting any better. complete pandemonium.

[perasperaadeastra]

[thenamelesscat]

All The Bright Places, 2020

[mosaicsoml]

THE FACT THAT WE’RE ABOUT TO VISUALLY SEE VIOLET AND FINCH ON THE BELL TOWER, IN THE CAR, THE DIFFERENT SIDES OF FINCH, THE FLIRTATIOUS MOMENTS IN SCHOOL, THE ROADTRIP, FINCH’S FAMILY, THE FLASHBACK WITH THE BIRD, THE JOURNEY VIOLET MAKES ALONE, AND FINCH DYING? YALL IDK IF I CAN TAKE IT I MIGHT ACTUALLY FALL INTO A DEPRESSIVE SLUMP BC OF THIS FRICK I LOVE THEM SO-

[finchandme]

Czasami, Ultraviolet, czujemy, że coś jest prawdziwe, nawet jeśli takie nie jest.

[anotherbipolargirl]

A veces tengo la sensación de que todo lo que hacía de mi quien soy, ha desaparecido.

Violet & Finch - Jennifer Niven.

[heretocrioverfiction]

Some of you never thought you'd love a character but you ended up loving them so much that you actually started missing them in real life and seeing them in your dreams and it shows

[dearagony15]

I Am Here. © Vivian Lin Dear @jenniferniven, I can't draw but I can write the reason why I am still here, alive. It's written on my poem to fill your #finchday and special for her who saved my life last year. Also today is my boyfriend's birthday so it's like a special gift for them to say this on public that I LOVE THEM SO MUCH. They're the most important people That I have. Once again, Thank you. 💜🐦🌸🎂 #iamhere #finchday #thelxvelies #allthebrightplaces #theodorefinch #violetremarkeyable #jenniferniven #writing #writer #writingchallenge #poetry #mentalillness #mentalhealthawareness #mentalhealth #depression #anxiety #fightdepressionandanxiety #writerslife https://www.instagram.com/p/BwwawI1B4Ig/?igshid=1kohnmh29ebmd