and a lump in my throat

2

“I still get a lump in my throat when her dress is torn off and she runs out in the garden. Marc [Davis] always thought that was throwing her to the hounds, so to speak, to have the stepsisters rip her to shreds was more than was needed. The fact that she’s not going to get to the ball was enough. You didn’t need to tear her [dead mother’s] dress, but the sequence is beautifully structured. It gets to you.” -Frank Thomas

Manchester By the Sea is incredible in the most understated way possible. It seems like it should be this extremely dramatic over-acted film, and instead it just felt like invading someone’s actual life. I didn’t actually spend any of it laughing or crying, just feeling. I was brought back to my own memories of that kind of overwhelming grief that’s awkward and you have no idea how to even deal with it. Casey Affleck says a million words without speaking. There is such an understanding of real grief and it made the whole film so cathartic. It cut like a knife and was a relief at the same time. 

susansepticeye  asked:

I hope you'll get better soon! :)

Thanks!

So do I, for the past 2 days I’ve been the most sick I’ve been in years. I’ve had a steady fever of 38.5 - 39.5 C (101 - 103 F) and a really bad cough and sore throat. I’ve literally been just a lump in bed, just waiting it out. The fever has finally calmed down a bit, but I still have trouble swallowing and I had to dim the brightness on my phone all the way, and wear sunglasses to look at any screen, or my eyes burn. No fun!

(sam like physically reining himself in when dean’s laughing because the wave of relief is almost overwhelming, he feels like he’s gonna choke as he swallows the lump in his throat, and like he gets it, it’s funny, haha because imagine if it hadn’t worked, gosh imagine that, sam wouldn’t have anybody at all even the thin pretence of an anchor to tie him down to reality, just him and his vacant brother in a sea of post it notes and the continual uncertainty about whether he’s dreaming or waking or still in the goddamn cage, no foundation stone to balance on and christ knows things can feel precarious enough as it is)

(he wakes in the middle of the night gasping for air, heaving in scraping breaths like he’s drowning)

The One On The Last Night

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean and the Reader have a moment before Dean goes off to face Amara one last time.

Word Count: 1,971

Warnings: Angst, Smut, A bit of Fluff

Author’s Note: Heyy guys! This is my entry for @sis-tafics and @eyes-of-a-disney-princess‘s Hubba Bubba Birthday Writing Challenge! I got the prompt: “The One On The Last Night”. I hope you guys like it. Feedback is definitely welcomed! 

**Also, special thanks to my beautiful Ree for putting up with me and reading over this. I could cry, to be honest.**



Nothing hurt more than knowing that the person you love was going to cease to exist come tomorrow. Nothing hurt more than knowing that it was all due to a plan to help God. Nothing hurt more than knowing that your life was going to mean absolutely nothing from here on out.

Not without the person you love.

I swallowed the huge lump in my throat as Rowena explained the plan to Dean. I couldn’t even concentrate properly. All that mattered was Dean. It was like I was having tunnel vision and all I could see were those beautiful apple green eyes, once so full of confidence and awareness, now looked broken and lost.

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So, a friend asked me today what I loved about Jared Padalecki and I started tearing up just thinking about it. ( he makes me emotional ok, I can’t help it)

Anyway, when I finally swallowed against the lump in my throat and was able to find my voice, I gave my best attempt to convey all the reasons why he means so much to me…

It’s his heart, his intelligence, how humble he remains despite his celebrity status. I love how much he cares about people and is so accepting of others.

I love that even when hate is directed at him, he tries to understand the person and why they might feel the way they do. He’s a gentle giant who wears his heart on his sleeve. A man who gives so much of himself and never asks for anything in return.

He’s beautiful, both inside and out. He stands up for himself and values his self worth, refusing to allow anyone to walk all over him or treat his fans with disrespect. He has a voice and isn’t afraid to use it. He adores his fans and continually makes time for us. He is ridiculously talented.

But mostly because he’s an inspiration to so many people, a man who believes that anything is possible if you have enough faith and encourages you to #AlwaysKeepFighting. He’s a humanitarian, a fighter and lover of truth who’s height is only surpassed by the size of his heart….

♡♡♡

Originally posted by aborddelimpala

I can’t always express how I feel.
The lump in my throat, words that I refuse to say.
I can’t confront anyone, and my own sadness is my fault so why should I, of all people, tell others.

I react in different ways, words can be intended flowers but I see them as daggers. So my angst and emotions are self inflicted without thought.

I want to know what others think about me all the time, if someone looks at me wrong way, I’m thrown into a spiral of self-hatred.

Progress is a challenge, and I’m still figuring out how to cope.

Imagine Having a One Night Stand With Your Best Friend, Chris Evans

Originally posted by esgaroths

“I love you, did you know that? I actually loved you.” You walked across the room picking up a picture of you two from one of the many times you had visited him on set. You turned to face him.

“I love you, I know I love you…but” he stopped mid sentence. His eyes were glossy, bloodshot and you could tell he was breaking as much as you were. “I made a mistake.”

You dropped the frame, shattering glass the only thing breaking the deafening silence in your living room. Your eyes met his and you swallowed a lump that formed in your throat.

“A mistake? That’s all it was to you? All I was to you?” You felt a wave of nauseous come over you and you had to cover your mouth. You wrapped your arms around your waist.  

“You know that’s not true, you’re my best friend. You mean the world to me, I just….I’m marrying Elizabeth.” He winced as the words fell from his mouth.

You stood there baffled. He was still going through with it. It was as if that night never happened. You looked at the man in front of you. You nodded slowly, wiping away the tears that fell.

You walked up to him, searching for some form of guilt or some form of regret. It was there, the regret.

“I…. ” before he could even get the words out you slapped him right across the face.

“Leave, just leave. ” you screamed as you started to hit him through the soul wrenching sobs.

Chris made his way to your door turning one last time to face you. Hurt by the fact he turned you into this. Hurt because he wanted so much more then this. He went to say something but shook his head and shut the door.

You fell against the panel, collapsing as you slid down the door to the floor. Heartbreak was your only friend.


Forever Tag List

@cityofsobbingfangirls @tas898 @barbidollash @trustnobodyshootfirst @winchesterfanfiction @deanwinchesterisamazing @oh-my-hecky-padalecki @padackles2010 @msimpala67 @deangirl5509 @heyitssilverwolf @therealme13posts @petlaufeyson @professionally-crazed @winterhurricane @tearsandbloodofmyenemies @blackwidow-romanoff @crazybarnes @marvelofcourse @takemetothefictionalworld @destiel67bellarke @ohmy-sammy @fightinthepain @vivabucky @waituntilthedustsettles @daydreaming1393 @cumonbucky @inhumans-of-shield @basicwhiskeyprincesss @soulfull-ofevans @spookass @glitterintheairblog @girl-with-wild-dreams @frickin-bats @darkestgrungeuniverse @shamvictoria11 @buckyappreciationsociety @sammysgirl1997 @fly-f0rever @archer-whovian-violinist @jenn0755 @anamarieswift2194 @unicornofdanger @ifyoudie @jealousbitxh @stormin-thru-glitter @sparklyaura @stilescstilinski

you ask me
“what does it mean to fall?”
and there is still wax stuck
in my throat from trying to 
save the boy who loved the Sun
from the depths of the ocean.
I couldn’t save him 
and I can’t answer,
but do you see how I swallow
around the lump anyway?
There aren’t enough words
for falling but the poets, 
we have all tried anyway.
—  Icarus’s indescribable love || O.L.
And I believe that if I - a couple of decades ahead -
found myself in a room with all the people I have ever loved,
you would still be the one that makes me feel slightly uncomfortable in my own skin, causing a lump to appear in my throat and making my heart pump blood a little off beat.
You’d still be the one that I am somehow hyper aware of, like all of the atoms my body is made of are attracted to you, as if you were the vanishing point that all lines in the room realign for.
—  // there is something about you and yet, I haven’t figured out whether it it positive or rather negative
j.d.m.
Terrible Love

Sebastian Stan x Fanfiction

Warnings: Language, Smut


The soft melody of the guitar strummed in the background for no longer than twenty seconds before the singing began. I stood outside on the balcony watching the sky’s lighting change into different colors from orange to purple then midnight blue. Resting my arms over the balcony, I kept replaying the scene over in my head like a movie that wouldn’t change scenes. Today was the day Sebastian got married.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and my tongue went completely dry. I held the champagne glass up to my lips and it tasted of pears. Taking only a sip I placed my glass on the cobblestone ground beside me. Turning my back a little I noticed my friend Toby Flack was walking close up behind me. “Can you believe Collide by Howie Day is their wedding song? How very two thousand four of them.” Toby laughed in a condescending tone.

“Listen to the lyrics it is the right kind of cliche.” I tried smiling to pass of my feelings of contentment as oppose to how I was truly feeling.

“How are you holding up Noora?” He asked as he outstretched his left arm wrapping it around my shoulders.

“All day people have been coming up to me creating small talk then asking me that same question. For the hundredth time I’m happy for him. He’s proof enough to show that broken hearts eventually heal.” I said, even though I was the one who obliterated it.

“You guys use to be Noora and Sebastian! I thought I would be standing in your wedding for fuck’s sake!” Toby expressed , as he looked at me waiting for my response. I kept looking onwards still gazing at the sky with no stars insight , yet I was extremely fixated on the blissful nothingness.

“Don’t give me the silent treatment. I know you don’t like talking about what happened between you two but-.”

“Because it was a long time ago.” I looked down at my dress flattening down a wrinkle interrupting him. “Besides I am only here to show my support for the happy couple.”

“You don’t have to lie to yourself and you sure as hell don’t have to lie to me.” Toby said. Breathing in the night air in one sharp breath I recounted in my head our horrible ending. It was probably a mistake for me even showing up here then again was it a mistake that I received an invitation?

Sebastian and I haven’t spoken in years and this was the first time in a while since I have laid eyes on him. It was temporarily refreshing. Looking at a fragment of art in motion, he stood tall looking more handsome than ever. “It was stupid of me for showing up. I should probably leave now .” I said.

Suddenly Toby turned around and faced the same direction as me. “Wait! I wouldn’t go that way.” He said through his teeth.

“Why?” I asked. “Sebastian is walking towards us.”

*FLASHBACK*

{Part 1 out of 3}

sailor-sardonyx  asked:

if one more person lumps "pansexual" under the B in LGBT+ I'm gonna shoot myself in the foot

I’ve gotten shoved under the T and under the B soany times so I feel you.
I swear to god I’m gonna ram my spiked leather goth crocs down their throats.

–toto

Imagine Chris thanking you in his speech.

A/N: Hi hi, I’m back from my hiatus. I didn’t really plan for a hiatus, I’ve just been busy with work and suffering from a bit of a writer’s block. (You can tell I’m still suffering a little because this one’s kind of a mess) Anyhoo, this is a request from @shadowprincess0218. Hope you enjoy it. X

“Oh God,” Chris mumbled under his breath when Jennifer Lawrence finished her speech. You glanced over at your husband, whose hand was now adjusting his tie as a nervous tick. “My category is next,” he said to himself then swallowed the lump in his throat.

“You’re going to be fine.” You assured him, placing your hand on his knee and giving it an assuring squeeze under the table. “Stop fiddling, you’re going to mess up your tie.” You told him but his hand remained on his tie, adjusting and readjusting.

“Why aren’t you nervous?” He raised an eyebrow, glancing at you before focusing his attention back on his perfectly fine tie. “It’s your screenplay I directed, it’s your work on the line too.” He reminded you and you chuckled. “Martin Scorsese won best director for your last screenplay, what if I don’t win one for this one?”

“You will because you’re an amazing director, you wouldn’t have gotten a nomination if you weren’t. Stop, Chris.” You chuckled softly and wrapped your hand around his wrist, pulling his hand away from the tie that he would not stop adjusting. “No matter how many times you adjust that tie, you’re still going to be nervous. Just-” You slipped your cool, dry hand into his clammy one. “Hold my hand and breathe.”

“But my hand is all clammy.” He told you as he tried to pull his hand from yours, only to have you tighten your grip by entwining your fingers with his. “Right,” he chuckled softly, “you don’t care about that. Thank you,” he pressed a kiss to the side of your head and you smiled.

“Let’s move on to our next category, best director.” Your dear friend and husband’s co-star, Robert Downey Jr.- the host of the 89th annual Academy Awards- started. You glanced at Chris when you felt him tense in his seat next to you. “Please put your hands together for Scarlett Johansson and Jeremy Renner, two people I’m proud to call my friends, to present the next award.”

The crowd erupted into an applause as Scarlett and Jeremy walked out, they hugged Robert before stepping in front of the podium with the golden envelope that had the information that could make or break yours and Chris’ heart. You weren’t all that concerned about your screenplay getting best director, you were more concerned about your husband getting it because he was an amazing director who deserved all the recognition in the world. Now it was your turn to fiddle; your hand reached for your clover necklace which you wore whenever you felt you needed the luck, and you definitely needed it now. You knew your husband was very talented but talent wasn’t always what got you an Oscar; Leonardo DiCaprio had incredible talent but he only had one Oscar, you could only hope Chris wasn’t as unlucky as Leo.

“And the nominees for best director are…”

You lost focus on Scarlett’s voice when you heard Chris mutter, “I feel sick.” You turned to him and chuckled softly, giving his hand a light squeeze. “I know it’s nerves but- I genuinely feel like I’m going to throw up. Can you do something to distract me?”

“I could kiss you but I’m afraid you’ll throw up in my mouth,” you told him and he chuckled. “Just keep your eyes on me, focus on my touch, and match my breaths.” You instructed and he followed. “How did you manage award shows before me, Christopher Evans?” You teased him and he chuckled again.

“With great difficulty.”

“And the best director award goes to…” You and Chris turned to the stage as Scarlett opened the envelope. Both her and Jeremy’s smile reached their eyes and you felt your heart skip a beat. Could it be? Was Chris’ name inside the envelope? “Chris Evans!”

Applause and cheers broke out around the two of you. You knew what had just happened but Chris was still in a daze, only realizing it was his name that was called when you pulled your hand away to give him the standing ovation he deserved. He rose to his feet and hugged you tightly, kissing your cheek and whispering an “I love you” in your ear before making his way to the stage.

“Good job, Dorito.” Robert patted him on the back as he walked past.

“Congratulations, Chris,” Scarlett passed him the Oscar then hugged him tightly.

“You deserve it, man.” Jeremy smiled and shook his hand before leaving him to his speech.

The crowd settled and you sat back down as Chris took the podium, he looked at his award then looked out into the crowd at you with a wide smile. You felt tears well in your eyes out of pure adoration and joy for your husband; he was finally getting recognized for something other than his good looks. He was very handsome- there was no doubt about it- but he was so much more than that which was why he enjoyed directing; directing got people talking about his talent rather than his physical appearance.

“Wow,” Chris began speaking and the crowd fell silent. “This is incredibly surreal. I always thought that I’d only ever be up here to present an award, never in a million years did I think I’d get a nomination- let alone a win. I’m incredibly grateful for this opportunity so thank you to the Academy.” The crowd clapped. “And now for the more personal thank yous. To my mom and dad, for giving me the chance to pursue my passion. To Anne, my agent, who got me the jobs that brought me here. And of course, to my beautiful wife, Y/N, who has only made my already wonderful life better with each passing day.”

You smiled and wiped away a tear that fell unknowingly.

“Without you, sweetheart, my life and all of this would be meaningless.” He told you and your smile widened. “You give me all the support and love I need to get through each day and- I just- I wouldn’t be here without you.” He glanced at his Oscar then chuckled, “like literally because she is the reason I had a movie to direct in the first place. Without your talent, I wouldn’t be able to apply mine and I wouldn’t have this Oscar so- from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Thank you for being so talented, thank you for trusting me with your work, and thank you for being the light in my life. I love you, Y/N.” He said and smiled when you mouthed the same three words back.

The music started playing which gave Chris his cue to make his exit and return to your side. “Aren’t they just the cutest?” Robert teased as Chris disappeared back stage with Scarlett and Jeremy. “You should see them when we have them over for dinner, with their heart eyes and their hands all over each other.” You shook your head at Robert, biting back your smile. “Congratulations Chris, and Y/N. Your screenplay got him best director, let’s see if it gets you best screenplay,” he reminded you of your nomination and you suddenly felt the same nerves Chris did earlier. “Let’s move on to the next category, shall we?”

Your nerves disappeared and you redirected your attention when Chris returned; he wrapped his arms around you as you wrapped yours around him. “I told you you’d win,” you whispered as you pulled away. “I didn’t marry you for your good looks, you know.” You teased him and he chuckled, dipping his head to kiss you ever so tenderly on the lips.

“I know,” he whispered when he broke the kiss, “you married me for my Oscar.”

“Like I need yours when I have three at home,” you poked his side and he laughed.

Covered in Lace (PT 1)

Sebastian Stan X Fanfiction
Warnings: Language,smut


A poem begins with a lump in the throat,
a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a
love sickness. It is a reaching-out towards
expression; an effort to find fulfillment. A
complete poem is one where an emotion
has found its thought and the thought has
found words. -Robert Frost

Sebastian’s POV


It was eleven o’ clock in the afternoon the moment she entered my office. I closed the door behind me and guided her further into the room. She took a seat on the couch whereas I sat across from her in a chair beside my desk. From underneath I pulled out my notebook and reached in the cup behind me to grab a pen. Pushing down on top of it, the pen made a loud clicking noise that took up the room. Opening up my notebook I carefully wrote in cursive the time, date and her name, Lace Lockwood.

In front of us was a long oval coffee table that was made of glass. It was so transparent that the objects on top of it made it looked like it was floating. Lace leaned down and grabbed the glass of water I had placed out. I couldn’t help but notice the way her hair moved with her. After taking a few sips she leaned backwards again on the light blue sofa, pushing her glasses with her index finger.

Lace crossed her legs exactly three times before she finally found a comfortable seating position. As I patiently waited for her to begin our session I tried not to focus in on every exact detail. Though, I couldn’t help myself to see that she was wearing a white oxford shirt that was neatly tucked inside of her dark blue denim jeans. I especially didn’t notice that she purposely left three buttons undone with a long gold necklace buried in her chest. “How are feeling today?” I asked her.

“Are you asking as my therapist or…”

“Who else would I be?” I interjected. Lace pushed her glasses closer to her face fixating her sight on the top of her knee. This time around I had to be the one to initiate our dialogue. Today she appeared quiet and reticent with what was on her mind.

“Tell me about your weekend.” I urged her. I didn’t give her any eye contact, I carefully waited and listened to what she might say and I wanted to write it all down the moment it happened. I heard nothing at first except for a elongated sigh.

“ I mostly stayed in and studied.” Lace’s voice was low and subdued. I wrote in my notes that she was dejecting from our conversation.

“What did you study?” I asked her, continuing looking down.

“If social Darwinism was influential in the development of imperialism.” She took another sip of the water.

“Sounds complicated.” I answered. “Was that the only thing you did Lace?” I added.

“I took a walk down by the water. You know spot where we usually go.” I heard her say. Not writing anything else down I threw the pen between the pages and closed it. Finally looking at her.

“Was that necessary to bring up in here?” I asked Lace, struck with paranoia looking up at the small two way window on my door. Sinking back down in my chair, I rocked forwards deciding I needed to stand instead. I walked over to the doubled panned window pulling the cord so the blinds would rise. There wasn’t any light in the room, though there was enough light cascading in. Outside of the window, high up from this level I saw nothing. Though from someone else’s perspective this view perhaps might have been hypnotic. In the distance you could see the crystal blue ocean water forming waves then dissipate back into the water.

For some it was nothing more than a beach. To me it was a crossroad where paradise and hell met. Lace, was the only daughter produced by the Lockwood’s. Built from the foundation of money and secrecy it was no surprise our paths forged almost two months ago. “Striking gorgeous is it?” I must’ve been staring out into the open for sometime, because I hadn’t realized she was beside me talking.

“I waited for you.” Lace said, holding her arms behind her.

“Don’t you think we have become predictably boring?” I asked her, walking away from the glass window. She turned around and faced me as I took a seat on the couch.

“I’m glad you said that actually.” She whispered, ashen. Watching her expressions and body language I could tell she was having a conflict in her head. “This will be our last session.” Lace finally said.

My eyes slowly went from being on the floor to a long quizzical stare. “You’re not ready. I-I’m not ready.” I swallowed.

“You didn’t think my crippling emotional distress would be a long term thing? Besides I think I met someone.” She cradled her hands near her chest with a faint smile across her enamored face. When she saw my unamused stare she retracted.

“How nice.” I said speaking only sarcastically.

“Well I guess this is goodbye.” Lace unexpectedly to my surprise extended out her hand giving it to me to presumably handshake farewell. Her arm was outstretched and for seconds I just looked at her. I placed the palm of my hand to hers then our hands softly merged.

Still holding onto her hand I rose up from where I was sitting. Taking a step from around the coffee table our hands were still tangled. I placed my free hand on her forearm with the intent of pulling her closer to me. When she breathed, gasping just about. I held my breath.

Still keeping my hands on her I eyed her as I moved around her body. Lace stood still, turning her gaze to watch what I was doing like a curious creature. My lips brushed the back of her neck. Keeping my mouth placed on her I moved my head down to traced the outer lining of her shoulder. I did that back and forth till Lace’s balance was faltering. In a stoic and in one flat sentence I said my last line into her ear.

“It’s not that easy to just leave me.”

Before I knew it a loud ringing sound went off on set. Followed by someone yelling cut. The set lights brightened back up and let go of my co-star Emma. She smiled at me and I did the same before she walked off of set.

“That was one hell of a job everyone and that’s a wrap!” The director chirped.

{1 out of 1}

Originally posted by andantegrazioso

Unexpected [Part 4] || Mingyu

genre: angst
blurb: mingyu finds out you used to be engaged to someone else a while ago. [ requested ]
word count: 2022
author’s note: i’m so sorry for my late update!!;; it’s been difficult to find any free time recently, but hopefully i’ll be writing longer scenarios now that i’m finished the drabble requests~ i hope it’s okay!(:

[ part 1 ] [ part 2 ] [ part 3 ] [ part 4 ] [ part 5(final) ]

You sighed upon realizing that yet another day had begun. The sun shining on your face was more than enough evidence that everything yesterday was real. You could feel the lump in your throat growing larger with every passing second, but you forced yourself to stop. You brought this upon yourself, you reminded yourself. It was no one’s fault other than yours. Hey, no wait, he’s equally at fault, if not more! You continued to argue with your mind, rolling out of your messy bedsheets and beginning to prepare for the day. No wonder Mingyu left me, you mused, your thoughts and actions numb, I’m talking to myself – am I going crazy?

You unconsciously picked up your cell phone and scrolled through your newsfeed while taking a bite out of your cereal. Once you finished, you let out another deep sigh. “Should I call him?” You wondered, not needing to expand more on who the person you were talking about was. You shook your head immediately in response to your own question. Holy crap, I really am going crazy.

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