A Long Time Coming.

Juliet took a long deep breath, staring at the building in front of her. So many memories circled around the building and she just sighed as she walked inside. So much had happened in the past few months she was sure no one she even knew would still be around. She stared off in the distance, humming to herself as she filled out some final paperwork to get her room key.

I buy all your favorite foods so I will be ready when you come home because once I did this and you said “This is how I know you love me.”

I go on long walks alone and think about a poem my friend wrote that goes "This is how you die by distance."

I hum the sound of the dial tone under my breath.

I stare at my hands and wonder at their uses. I consider pawning my thighs. I consider auctioning off my hip bones. I put my breasts in a box on the top shelf of the closet. I do not need them now.

I think of all the thing I have to tell you when I will see you.
Stories like:
I just found out pumpkins are technically fruits
Cary Grant’s first job was in a traveling circus
Most mammals are born able to walk and learn to run within minutes, so we are not crazy for moving so fast.

This morning I wrote your name in the steam on my mirror, even though I knew it would fade within minutes.

In my best notebook I wrote “I miss you” ten thousand times.

I wrote “I think I am missing one of my ribs”

I wrote “I envy the way leaves know exactly when to fall from the branches and when to come back in the spring”

I wrote “Everyone else isn’t you. It turns out that’s a huge problem for me.”

—  Clementine von Radics, Things I Do When I Cannot Hold You

do you ever just see your tc from a distance and stare at them, observing their every movement and noting the way that they run their hand through their hair, the way they frown intently over a paper and their habits, like shaking their hair out of their eyes etc? then you could just look at them forever and appreciate what a beautiful work of art G-d has created, but at the same time you can just burst because they’re so freaking adorable! 💗

putting the rulers of men to good use for once :,D

Keep Me Steady As We Go

Oliver’s excuse has always been that he doesn’t dance. The truth? He can’t.

"What’re you watching?"


With reflexes that surprise even him, Oliver slams the laptop shut and pops the earbuds free with a sharp yank. Tipping onto his right hip, he shoves the incriminating devices into a pile of throw pillows.

"Nothing," he says, voice cracking on the last syllable. He cringes, lips thinning in dismay; nonchalance always seemed to elude him when he needed it the most. Clearing his throat, he twists to meet Felicity’s inquisitive stare.

"Are you sure?" she asks, brows knitting together. "Because that reaction just now?" Her hand sweeps the distance between him and the padded fortress guarding his laptop. "Furthest thing from ‘nothing’."

Oliver coughs out a strangled laugh. “Uh - haha - yeah, no. No, I was just doing, you know, some late night—” he scratches his nose, eyes darting away “—internet browsing.” He smiles, strained and tight-lipped, overwhelmed by the urge to smack himself.

Felicity peers over her glasses, lips pursed. “I don’t know if anyone’s had the heart to tell you, but you’re a terrible liar, Oliver.” Climbing over the couch back, she drops onto flannel-clad shins. Shrewd, expectant eyes fix on him once again. “Spill, mister.”

Keep reading

Big brown eyes.
That’s what I remember the most about her.
They would widen to perfect circles and stare out into the distance and sometimes she looked so sad that I could almost feel her despair radiating off of her.
She told me so much about her past: the boys and men and the drinking and cigarettes and starving.
But I always got the sense that there was something even worse lurking just below her surface of sadness,
A beast that ate at her from the inside.

Choosing the L&L Automat her first month in New York City Peggy always figured must have been some kind of divine intervention. Out of all the automats and all the diners she could have chosen within a comfortable walking’s distance from the New York Bell Company, it just so happened to be the one that employed Angie Martinelli. And Angie Martinelli, she had quickly come to find, was irreplaceable. One of a kind.

Angie Martinelli was an aspiring actress, one who had no qualms about practicing over carafes of coffee and staring determinedly into the mirror back at herself. Having caught the end of a monologue from Romeo and Juliet the first time she’d settled into a free booth, Peggy had laughed to herself even while appreciating the acting - actresses were a dime a dozen in New York, after all, and she’d hold her full opinion until she had more exposure. That exposure, as it was, had come sooner than she had expected, Angie whirling around with a wide, friendly smile on her face, bounding over to pour her a cup of coffee even before she could ask for tea instead, chattering away as she offered a menu. However, eventually giving in to her sparkling blue eyes, Peggy made do, and didn’t bother putting up a token protest. Coffee wasn’t bad, every once in a while.

Really though, it shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise as it had been that Peggy realized she kept on showing up at the automat more for the company than for the food. During the war, she’d learned how to eat whatever was given to her - to eat it and appreciate it and keep her mouth shut because it was all she was going to get. The L&L Automat’s fare, however, when not purchased from the automatic wall itself, was subpar to what she’d gotten used to during the war. And yet, keenly aware of that fact, she kept coming back. “Oh, of course it’s terrible,” Angie winked at her one afternoon after Peggy had let slip what she was thinking, “But we pay for the privilege to eat anyway. It’s free - from a free country, ain’t it? As much as I can figure, it’s that we’re paying for, more than taste.” And, shaking her head but mustering a smile anyway, Peggy had nodded, her smile becoming real when Angie left her with another wink and teasing crack about her being “too English” to fully understand.

Ten weeks into her patronage of the diner, two and a half months after settling in New York and her new job (as much as she could describe it as a “job”, being relegated to a common secretary more often than not), Peggy finally allowed herself to admit that, yes, what most likely kept her coming back was Angie’s company. The younger woman had expertly and quickly wormed her way into Peggy’s normal routine, full of good cheer and optimism and authentic interest, happy to complain good naturedly about her day as soon as she’d happily listen to Peggy’s day as well (numerous cups of coffee and snarky, witty quips invariably involved, of course). She was quick with smiles and sympathetic shakes of her head, equally as eager to slide into the booth across from her as she was leaning forward on her elbows when Peggy sat at the counter. She was genuine. Innocent. Alive. She was everything Peggy worked to keep safe.

Inevitably, the longer Peggy spent in Angie’s company, the more Peggy thought about her. When she fell into Howard’s mess, and subsequently caused the death of her roommate - poor Colleen, she’ll never forgive herself for that - Peggy didn’t want to give in to Angie’s admittedly tempting offer. The Griffith did sound perfect. It sounded wonderful. Exactly what she needed. But, watching Angie in her element, mixing waitressing with practicing lines and dramatically confronting jerks - Peggy stepping in when needed, Peggy couldn’t allow herself to potentially put her in danger. Never. Never. She’d never forgive herself if Angie got compromised.

Nevertheless, Peggy found herself moving in. Convinced from a mixture of Angie’s puppy dog eyes and having caught how sad and discouraged Peggy’s well meaning brush-offs made her, and honestly needing a place to stay that didn’t come with an automatic branding of being a Howard Stark whore, Peggy allowed the younger woman to all but drag her along with her. Meeting her after a shift at the automat, red cheeked and eager, practically dancing on the tips of her toes as she grabbed Peggy’s arm, leading her to the right subway railroad track, Peggy smiled and laughed and dipped her head and told herself she wasn’t concentrating too hard on how Angie’s everyday outfit emphasized how skinny she was, the waitress shining in casual wear. She was only following her for a place to live. Not too far from her work, easy on her budget, and practically perfect, those were the only reasons.

Except they weren’t. Angie was down the hall. The all-female occupancy was refreshing. Though she had to keep herself always decent and perfectly made-up, Peggy relished it. As much as she shouldn’t have boxed herself into an “impossibly impenetrable” hotel, and shouldn’t have doubly locked herself into an almost daily ritual of Angie knocking on her door and barging in offering alcohol and sweets, having to send her away lying through her teeth, Peggy still appreciated it. Angie didn’t give up. No matter how often Peggy unintentionally gave her reasons to surrender and walk away, she didn’t. No matter how often Peggy felt horrible that she’d even allowed herself to make it so Angie could call on her only to be sent away, it didn’t make a difference. Angie still smiled at her during meals and at the automat.

Letting Howard crash in her room was a low point in her secret agent life. As successful as she had been able to separate her normal life as “Peggy Carter, telephone company employee” with what she was doing after hours, having Howard in a place she barely had any control over… It had sent her almost into a tailspin. Smiling widely, practically inanely at Angie when she stepped out of her room, immediately closing and locking the door behind her, she accompanied her down to dinner, dominant hand clutched tightly around Angie’s arm, incredibly interested, beyond the norm, in the other woman’s day. As much as she honestly wanted to know, she hoped Angie couldn’t tell just how much she was faking it, too. In fact, she hoped Angie never found out how much she was faking. Ever.

Leaning back, hands splayed, grasping as tightly as she could to the brick face, Peggy could barely breathe. Heights, more than anything else, had always chilled her bones and sucked the air out of her lungs. Heights mixed with imminent danger…? Peggy was surprised her heart hadn’t yet combusted in her chest. Still, inching, pausing, and inching some more towards Angie’s room, the faintest hint of optimism flickering in her chest, Peggy almost sagged before she caught herself when Angie opened her window, practically accusing, “Peggy? What are you doing?” right before loud, insistent fists sounded on her apartment door. Breathing in, wide eyed and almost hopeless, Peggy could barely believe it as, taking in her blurted, “They’re here for me,” Angie paused, nodded, closed her windows, and took care of Thompson and Sousa. Helping Peggy in minutes later, wide eyed and excited, accusing, “I knew you didn’t work for the phone company!” Angie, while obviously anxious and confused, was everything and more than Peggy had ever hoped. Organizing a ride for her, even, Peggy wished, after the fact, that she’d done more than hugged the courageously strong actress goodbye after promising a, “Someday.” Yes, she thought, becoming unconscious minutes later after Dottie kissed her with her lipstick, she should have done more. She should have kissed her. …She should have kissed Angie.

Ironically, it was Angie who found her again, and not the other way around. Demanding to be let into the New York Bell Company, knowing it was as much an actual telephone company as powdered eggs were actual eggs, Angie had apparently been in the neighborhood when Dooley had sacrificed himself. Terrified, full of gumption and spunk, she wouldn’t leave the front office, fists curled at her waist, chin up, advancing on the elevator doors even as Rose reached for her hidden gun. “I don’t care if ya shoot me,” she bit out, “I’m here for Peggy. She’d get ya back more than I could.” (“That was complete posturing,” Angie admitted later, words hot and breathy and close to tears against Peggy’s neck as she embraced her in the SSR bathroom, arms wrapped tightly around her, “I’d hoped your reputation had preceded you.”) And, “Angie!” Peggy snapped, immediately dragging the younger woman away as soon as she walked into the bullpen, towards privacy, “You brave, brave, foolish woman.” “Hey,” Angie sniffled, flicking Peggy’s hand before catching it up, lacing their fingers together, leaning up to press her lips softly to Peggy’s before dissolving into tears, shoving her head against Peggy’s sternum, “Forgive me for thinkin’ the woman I’d given my heart to was kaput!” And, pulling Angie in tight, against her chest, kissing her forehead and squeezing her as if she never wanted to let her go, the only person who needed forgiveness, Peggy thought, drinking in how Angie felt against her, allowing, at least for a moment, thoughts of the future, was her. Her.

Brighter than Before- (young) Remus Lupin imagine

Request: Can I ask for a young Remus Lupin imagine where he is deeply in love with you, but he rather choses to keep the distance, so he just stares at you during class, smiles at you, offers to help you with homework and is all cute and fluffy… he doesn’t want to ask you out because he things it’ll be dangerous for you to be with a werewolf… but you already know that he likes you. fluffy pretty pleeeeeeeeease? xx ♥ <33333 thank you! :)


You could get lost in that perfect smile alone. Remus Lupin wasn’t the most out-going type, but his smile was purposefully charming nonetheless. Your heart beat quicker yet once you realized you were meeting him shortly for a study date with him. With a quick comb of your hair with your fingers, you pushed open the library doors and immediately found him staring at the door like he was waiting for your arrival.

Remus watched your movements with his eyes. The same eyes that watched you in class. The same eyes you often caught gazing at you across a room.

“I brought you some tea to help make it through the homework.” He joked, gesturing quietly towards the two mugs on the table. You nearly melted at the sweetness of his actions. Yes, you quite put it together that the smiling, staring, and sweetness were because Remus more than likely fancied you. No other boy did this for you. Not once. Remus was polite, but you had seen him being polite to others; this was much more than just Remus politeness.

“That’s so nice of you!” You genuinely thanked Remus, taking the warm mug between your hands and flipping your book open at the same time.

“It wasn’t a problem.” Remus shyly replied, seating himself next to you to better share the textbook between you.

“I really need help with History of Magic.” You said boredly. “I’m so glad you’re helping me!” You smiled. Remus chuckled and prepared himself to help you take notes.


The chapters you struggled with ended in a breeze. And all of your new knowledge was brought upon you with the patient help of Remus. The conversation had grown silent and Remus coughed softly.

“Are you excited for the Hogsmeade trip this week?” He asked quietly, as not to disturb other students.

“I am. It’s a full moon. Should be beautiful.” You noted more to yourself. You clamped your mouth shut after that comment. Along with figuring Remus fancied you, you also put together other signs. Remus was a werewolf. Over your shoulder you felt Remus’ jaw clench.

“I’m sorry.” You started. Remus looked down at you with mild panic in his eyes. “I know you’re a werewolf, Remus.”

“Er, um, I-I…” Remus gulped and attempted to stand. You gently place a hand on his shoulder, stopping him instantly.

“Please, I don’t think any different of you.” You lowered your voice to just above a whisper. Remus’ eyes darted about, not meeting yours for more than a fraction of a second.

“You weren’t supposed to find out.” Remus admitted, shaking under your fingertips. You smiled lightly and closed your fingers around the material of his shirt.

“Why wasn’t I?” You asked.

Remus was silent for a while before answering. His eyes were on the waxing crescent moon. “Because I thought you wouldn’t want to be with a werewolf. I’m not safe to be around, Y/N. You don’t deserve my feelings for you. You deserve better than mine.” Remus shrugged once as if trying to get out of your grip.

“Oh, Remus.” You leaned over to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “I want them all. All your feelings and thoughts and ideas. I don’t care what you are.” You assured. Remus’ demeanor brightened at your words.

“You mean it?” He breathed. You nodded insistantly. Remus rested his hand over the one of yours that laid on his shoulder. His beautiful eyes met yours and sent calming shivers down your spine.

“I mean it.” You confirmed, leaning your head on the werewolf’s shoulder. Remus took a deep breath and nodded. You sat in silent, staring at the moon outside with him. You swore it was shining brighter that night than any before.


Thank you for requesting!

anonymous asked:

hii! could you do a luke blurb about him getting all protective over you when he notices that other guys were starring when they were taking a walk around downtown?

hello! yes of course!

so you would be doing some late night shopping with luke in the town and it was getting late so you decide to pick up some takeaway on the walk home cause you didnt live that far. so you would be walking along the street hand in hand and just chatting and you would ask luke something and he wouldnt answer so you would be all like ‘hello luke? helloooo??’ and hed all be like ‘sorry what’ and you would just laugh and ask him what he was staring at and he would tell you there was guy across the street very obviously checking you out even though you were his and he would put so much emphasis on his and you would tell him to calm down, smiling as you saw the takeaway shop in the distance. so you would step in and take a seat as luke went up to the counter and ordered and some guy would be sat next you and would make small talk and then he would make a comment like so sleezy you nearly threw up something like ‘ive ordered a meal for 2 if ya wanna join me beb’ and lukes super sensitive hearing heard that from across the room and like hell was someone gonna hit on his bird so he would march across the room and stare at the guy and be like ‘back the fuck off my girl’ and take your hand he would make you stand on the other side of the room with him whilst you waited. once you left he would instantly take your hand and you would chit chat before he would say ‘i know your stunning but that doesnt mean that men can hit on you cause your mine okay i wont fucking stand for it’ and you would see in between the words that he was just protecting you and you found it super cute


Cana's Broken Heart (Open)

"Pathetic" she yelled out into the woods. Her card magic had been nearly drained as she worked on her makeshift training grounds. Everyone knew that this time of the year was the worst for Cana. She’d disappear from the guild hall to train constantly for a whole week. Her mother Cornelia had died on the 15th of February, the same week as when her first love had dumped her.

Most just accepted her disappearance, while one just stared off at her from a distance.

"I’ll never be good enough" she yelled tossing her cards and jumping upwards through the trees. 

"I can feel you ther. Now who are you?" she asked looking over her shoulder to the figure below.

anonymous asked:

jooheon probably just sits by the window every day while the rest of monsta x does their thing, staring out of it and listening to 800 long distance 8tracks mixtapes. he probably texts gunhee sappy poems with weird ass metaphors and drake lyrics. jooheon forcing one of the kids to teach him guitar so he can sing about his feelings and post vids of them on insta

This isnt evn funny bc this is literaly what im doing rn im on 8tracks sitting by my window watching the snow being emo im abt to start writing poetry with my tears as ink

*stares out into the distance* was victorious actually a good show or was avon jogia just too hot (hot damn) ?????


     He’s already smoking when he shows up, and Matt’s jaw jerks slightly in greeting before his eyes slide away to stare at a point off in the distance. “Thanks for meeting me,” he says in that same slow tone. “Needed to get out of the house. We can go wherever. I’ll drive, just… I don’t feel like being around a lot of people, is all.”

The scene where Conde is staring at Mary longingly during the funeral weirded me out so much, and it literally had nothing to do with the fact that it was Conde and everything to do with the fact that they are at a FUNERAL mourning a DEAD PERSON and a guy is giving puppy eyes to his crush from a distance and they choose to focus in on him? really writers? wtf even was that? if it was suppose to be cute and romantic IT WASN’T, It was just WEIRD.

anonymous asked:

Would you like my Smooth and Silky Stones and White Sticky Stuff, or do you wanna just have the sex?

Dramatically posing in a manner where Framptlatiel is facing away from the Grey Knight with only his head turned to the side (mostly because he has yet to figure out how to move his body correctly), the Kingseeker stares off into the distance.                                                                                                                   “There is only one thing I want in this world, Knight.” Framptlatiel replied, his voice serious. “And that, is to figure out how to walk.”

> You draw your bow again, staring down the target a good distance away. You had taped it to a tree earlier for practice. You wait a while before you let the arrow go, hoping your depth perception has somehow gotten better. Luckily, you hit the target just not the middle. You frown a little and move over. You take the arrow out and sigh. Maybe you’ll get the middle some other time.

"I think I’m 9ettin9 worse.."

> You hear footsteps and stop. You look around carefully, unsure if you should head back inside.