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Maybe We're Just Lost Souls

@soyellowcurtainsthen / soyellowcurtainsthen.tumblr.com

Hi, i'm Lauren. I'm 29,from Scotland. KBL connoisseur- catch me crying about my shows always. Icon credit- @sailorjisunq
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tlirsgender

Sometimes I see a respected mutual in my notes and remember they follow me and I'm like. Should I apologize for what I'm doing here. But they did choose to be in my house

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There’s that post that’s like ‘everyone should get into a tiny niche fandom at least once’ fully agree, that was really fun -- but I would like to add that everyone should get into a fandom where their opinions run counter to major fanon because it really teaches you about sticking to your guns and trusting your interpretation of the text without having to rely on peer validation

because WHAT are people talking about sometimes

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Writing is a fickle beast. There are days when you stare at your laptop and only manage to pull a single sentence from the chaotic mess of your brain, and then there are days when you stumble across a really great song randomly on Spotify and are inspired to write almost two pages of a thing in one half an hour sitting. 

The following piece of writing/trash is a by-product of the latter 

( Go check out the song if you can dudes, its called:  St Ives- Charlie Straw) 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-BqRYjUuT8c  ( this is the link to the song on youtube for anyone who wants to listen along while they read)

She tugs the scarf more tightly around her neck as the cool night air, picks up pace and throws her hair, almost violently around her face. The rain pelting down on the bus shelter around her, a comforting presence, that serves to calm her down, even with the racing thoughts in her head.

In her pocket her phone buzzes unrelentingly, a barrage of messages that gain in frequency until they morph into one, her phone on a near constant vibration. She ignores it, tears prickling the back of her eyes, pulls out her iPod and turns the music up louder, in her best attempt to block out the world around her.

Its dark almost midnight and she has no idea when the bus is due, the panel that once held the timetable had long been empty, so she leans her weight more fully on the side of the shelter nearest her, the rain creating a curtain of security around her. Her rucksack thrown haphazardly over her shoulder, hold-all slung down at her feet, on a dry patch of ground. Headphones pushed into her ears, hood up to block out the elements, her dark hair spilling forward out of it, the ends beginning to soak in the downpour.

The bus shelter is located on the top of a hill, and from her vantage point, she can see the city sprawling out below her, lights twinkling and dotting the distance in front of her, obscured at times by the falling rain.

As she waits for the arrival of the bus, she takes in her surrounding, steadfastly ignoring the incessant buzzing in her pocket and spots a figure walking in the direction of the bus stop.

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