coffee on the floor

Desire. The most important thing in the world and here it was lying quietly by my side while you were breaking into day. I thought how I also wanted coffee, and that had me rising from the floor away from you and into the kitchen where I boiled the kettle and, hidden behind it’s hissing, began to quietly hum. There were your feet. I could see them through the hatch separating the kitchen from the living room behind the table where you lay, makeshift bed. Bony feet. Like all of your limbs, clumsy movements made elegant by them and totalling a sort of brattish ease. Exaggerated when tired, at your best when at your worst. I wonder what dreams had occupied you through the night, you wouldn’t remember them. Didn’t that make you feel like you’d been missing something? I was missing something, somewhere within you that I could not touch and so it was the very thing I wanted.

I left to shower in my own house walking slowly with my face upturned to the sky, the sun warming the back of my top. I had nothing on underneath and every time the breeze lifted it up I blushed. I peeled the film back from the packet of pomegranate seeds I’d stolen from the fridge, popping individual jewels between my lips that stained my fingers in pricks of blood. When I walked through my bedroom door I stood still staring out through the window at the tops of the houses, their patchwork tiles each laid with human hands, and at the bluing sky offsetting them. It reminded me of that desert postcard I bought in Oslo that disappeared. I stood quite still in a sort of trance thinking of almost nothing at all, just watching the sky shifting its way around the globe.

Often when I left you I went in to a state of perpetual shock, it was so much and then nothing at all. I felt like I did not need anybody else in the world. I couldn’t think so I set about cleaning my room for the first time in that frantic way all the women I loved do. I even bought a headband. I copy these small things but would never admit to doing so and with defiance say, “I’ve always worn one.”

The wooden floorboards underneath me were separated by cracks and I noticed how each time I tried to sweep, the dust would fall straight down. Crouched down with a pencil, I stuck it between the cracks to test the depth below. The tip touched nothing and the pencil fell through my fingers and into the abyss. Years and years of things swept and lost. I would write a letter and fold it into the crack beside the pencil (would it still be there, do things disappear?) But then I felt a sort of fear at not knowing what lay below me; similar to the feeling i got while standing street level at Oxford Circus, aware of all the frantic heads directly under my feet and how I’d just been one of them. I wrote a few words to nobody about the love I felt that day on the back of a Egon Shiele postcard and posted it through the crack in my floorboard for the next girl with her head in the sky to find or think about and felt suddenly, quietly good.

anonymous asked:


What about him telling the story to his GRANDKIDS though? He’d bring it up on a Sunday evening, when they’ve devoured a roast dinner that he and the missus had been slaving away at in the kitchen all afternoon, bowls of banoffee pie sitting on the coffee table as they lounged around on the floor and focused on their phones. The missus and Rose would be in the kitchen washing everything up, Connor would be sat talking to Sam as they spoke about football, and Darcy would sat with Persephone as they spoke about the latest design that Persephone was working on, Jack collecting all the empty plates and dishes to take into the kitchen.

“You wan’a hear a story about how Pops won his first Grammy award back in the day?”

And all the grandkids would groan out playfully from their places on the floor, and, his youngest grandchild would frown on his lap as he chuckles loudly and cuddles his youngest to his chest, “m’gona tell you all again. Even if it is the umpteenth time.”

“Pops, you tell us all the time,” his eldest grandson would groan teasingly, rolling his head back against the sofa as Persephone gave him a gentle wide-eyed stare and a shake of her head, “we see the Grammy award up on the shelf, Mum! Pops was a good singer, we know. You tell us all the time.”

“Not just good,” Persephone would smile across to him, “the best. Used to sing you lot to sleep all the time, you know? And me and your aunts and uncle, as well. Best Pops you could ever ask for, I’m tellin’ you. Loves you lot to bits.” xx

#103 - For Hunter & anonymous

Filling the prompt “reader and Van go on omegle and everyone is saying shes super pretty, and at the start hes grossed out because of all the peen? She wants to show him bcos he wanted to know the most embarrassing part of her teen years, and its that she went on omegle alot, and he doesnt know what it is so she shows him?” and “Maybe u could incorporate giving Van head into the omegle one. Maybe they do it in front of the camera or summat.”

Note: Thank you to all the people that wrote in with your Omegle moments!

The laptop was open on the edge of the coffee table, and the floor below was covered in pillows and blankets. You sat side by side with Van, looking at the screen. He’d asked you what you wasted your teen years doing in reply to you saying he used his well at band practice. Omegle. That’s what. Hours spent with friends, alone, even your mother one time, just cycling through the webcams of strangers. When he told you he’d never been on, you knew it was a universal wrong that needed to be right. So, there you were, cups of hot tea in hand and the red light next to the camera illuminated.

“Van, I’m not joking when I say it’s eighty percent naked guys,” you stressed again for the thousandth time.

“Yeah, yeah. But it’s all dead funny, right?”

Keep reading

I’m super frazzled right now. Getting up at 4:30 (and not being allowed to have coffee on the floor) has been a Challenging Adjustment Period. It’s been hard absorbing two new workplaces and what the roles are at the same time. It wasn’t like i was settled in one place and took something else on. I hope in the next few weeks I won’t be so exhausted and I can once again look for a permanent job. Because I hope to one day stop rambling about this all. 

You know what they say: Pay Your Debts Or Die. No Tryin. 

Is anyone else just instantly endeared by people chillin’ on surfaces that aren’t made for sitting? Like hopped up on a counter with a cup of coffee, cross-legged on the floor eating cereal, drinking wine fully clothed in a bathtub, sprawled out on the hood of a car with snacks for a meteor shower, etc? I don’t know why I love it so much, but I do. 

anonymous asked:

Man, good headcanons can be so hard to come up with, but yours are always so on point! I'm falling even more in love with the Voltron squad and their dynamics with every post. Thank you for your services to the fandom, and keep up the good work! ;)

i can’t believe my service to society is shitposts

  • lance: “i don’t brag??” pidge: “you once cited your existence as proof that god is real”
  • at any given time, keith is probably completely zoned out
    • “alright so that’s the plan. did everyone get all of that?”
    • keith, who has been thinking about the logistics of draining the loch ness to find nessie for the past half an hour: “…yeah”
  • everyone looks at pidge and sees a hacking genius but what i see is a child sitting on the floor at three am, chugging coffee and yelling every time “invalid syntax” shows up on the screen
  • allura: “okay i have a plan, but i’m going to need your permission” shiro: “since when do you need my permission for anything??” allura: “oh i don’t, but i want to make sure that if this goes badly i’m not the only one blamed for it”
  • altean music is all just screamo
    • but not even good screamo. just like. shrieking
    • lance suffers through listening to it for coran though since coran always looks so happy when he does
  • hunk: “i mean, it’s your choice, of course! that’s just my opinion, you should trust your own judgement! :)” also hunk: *lurking with an ‘i told you so’ when friend doesn’t follow advice*
  • the last meal shiro ate on earth was slightly burnt popcorn
  • *sleepover voice* “okay, fuck, marry, kill: haggar, zarkon, or a black hole” 
the houses as autumn aesthetics
  • slytherin: cold and grey mornings, walking barefoot on the cold floor, drinking coffee in the morning, wool socks, relaxing after a stressful day
  • ravenclaw: waking up early, looking out the window while drinking hot tea, staying up for too long reading a book u like, falling asleep to the sound of rain
  • gryffindor: sweaters that are too big, walking in the forest while quietly singing, sitting infront of the fireplace when its cold, vanilla scented candles
  • hufflepuff: wearing jackets that are too big, taking a walk while its raining, wool sweaters, kicking leaves while ur walking, autumn scented candles
Ilvermorny House Headcanons

Horned Serpents: writing stories together; finding quiet hiding places around the school where they can go to just think; always coming up with off the wall ideas of things to do on the weekends; those weekends often spent just reading in the common room instead; heated arguments on theoretical things; morning birds drinking tea as the sun comes up; scented candles always burning; classical music; having the most wonderful ideas but never being able to properly express them

Wampus: laying down on the floor in the common room; knowing the coffee is hot, but drinking it anyway; burning their tongues; caffeinated drinks only; singing their favorite songs together out loud with no music, for no reason; hardcore pillow fights that get really intense and last hours; game night every Wednesday; coming up with new ways to make studying more bearable; being very connected to everything around them

Thunderbird: weekends spent outside; finding parts of class really interesting and researching them in the library just for fun; art competitions; made up games; secret parties; celebrating every holiday they can (flag day, national hat day, etc.); fighting over choosing the music; wacky foods, because they always want to try everything; exploring school grounds; always just wanting to do SOMETHING

Pukwudgie: plants everywhere; strange healing methods that oddly work; never going to the infirmary because they have their house-mates; always planning something; poetry readings; backstabbing not tolerated; equality; selling healing potions to classmates with colds; always smell good; the helping hand to anyone who needs it; study buddies; late night hair styling; compliment machines if you seem like you need one; always feeling obligated to help even if they can’t