fighting the distance

If we don’t end up together and we belong to other people please tell your kids about me. Tell your daughter to be fearless but also build walls around her so guys won’t break her heart like you broke mine. Tell your son to be tender and consistent in every decision, to listen to what his heart says and not what everybody else tells him to, like you did. Tell them that for every person there’s another person who would go through everything just to be with them, like I did for you. Teach them that giving up on the person who sees the world in their eyes just because times are hard will make them drown in regret, like you probably are right now. Most importantly teach them to be fighters and not quitters on that certain person who goes to hell and back, like I did.
  • Castiel: Where did this tear in reality come from? Huh? This is weird even to me and I'm an angel
  • Castiel: If Dean where here he would say 'Castiel, don't do anything stupid, dumbass!' and 'wait for back-up', then he'd say 'what's with you and the half-cocked ideas?'. He's really rude sometimes...and honestly, where does he even get the nerve?
  • Castiel: Well fuck you Dean
  • Castiel: I don't need anything to be full-cocked! Am going in!
  • *Somewhere far away*
  • Dean: Cas just did something stupid, I can feel it. Why am I NOT surprised? Don't you 'greater good' and 'please trust me Dean', I wouldn't trust you with a plastic spoon! God I hate you
  • Sam: So long-distance fighting is a thing now
I fear the day you’ll meet another girl and you’ll fall in love with her and forget all about me. I hate the fact that many opportunities that I couldn’t have, she will. She will touch you when I couldn’t, she will be there when I couldn’t and it won’t destroy her. I know I made you happy and you made me happy too but it wasn’t enough my love. Our story is one for the books and I have no idea how we came up to here but we endured a lot. We need each other but certainly not like this, not apart and never being able to meet in the middle. Going the distance and not being able to communicate and meet a lot is like being nothing at all. Though for me, just calling myself yours was enough. I will always love you and I will always be yours.

anonymous asked:

Have you ever been in a situation where you had to play soccer mom? Not one where Steve played your soccer son

well, last week i kicked the heads off of about fifteen robots, and then used them as projectiles to hit other robots with. does that count as soccer? afterwards i yelled at steve for taking his helmet off dramatically in the middle of a fight. he got a concussion. again.

its not there to prevent hat hair steven, its so you DONT DIE. which is also my job, and i can use all the help i can get. 

maybe we should get him a pair of sunglasses or something, so he has something he can remove at a dramatic point mid-combat without actually losing safety equipment. sometimes i think the star-spangled show actually made his tendency towards the dramatic even worse. 

anonymous asked:

What if Stiles and Derek's first kiss is post-nogitsune? Would he feel like a thief? Would he mourn the body that Derek never held? Would each brush of fingertips or kiss to his temple be a betrayal? They'd probably talk about the scars too. Derek would understand-- to an extent. But he grew up not without his history on his skin so he'll never understand how it feels to have that ripped away.

Their lips brush and Stiles turns away a second later, breaths shallow, hands twitching against the folds of Derek’s shirt. There’s warm breath on his cheek, the ghost of beard still so close and all Stiles can think is that he wants this. He wants this. And…

It’s wrong.

Those fingers, twitching against Derek’s shirt, smooth and uncalloused. The scar that used to live above his third knuckle just a burn-hot memory in his mind.

Everything still feels off in his body, out of balance, and he remembers the way Derek used to look at him. All tension and frustration in ways he couldn’t start to make sense of. And now Derek’s lips are in reach, a short turn away, and he’s murmuring out “Stiles…?” and all Stiles can think is…

“Do you want me?”

He can feel the stall in Derek’s thoughts like a physical reaction, and he wonders if there was a subtle tell or if… if he’d just felt it, inside, the confusion a flicker of chaos in Derek’s chest. Can he do that? Feel chaos? The Nogitsune drank it in and Stiles…

“Stiles,” Derek breathes again, a quirk of amusement in his tone. Thumbs smooth down his hips and Stiles fights the urge to rise into the contact. “Thought I’d just answered that question.”

And Stiles could leave it at that, asked and answered. Except…

There should be a scar on his hip, long and thin, from a fence he’d scaled once and dropped down five times faster. Derek should be feeling that right now, that piece of Stiles’ history, that stupid ten year old adventure laid out across his skin. But the skin’s smooth. Blank slate.

He shivers, gripping tighter into Derek’s shirt.

“No, I––” He can’t think of how to explain it. The thoughts are a choked feeling in his throat, a twist in his gut. Something like guilt and fear and he doesn’t even know what answer he wants when he leans back enough to find Derek’s eyes and say: “Since when? Did you… I mean, before…”

He’s not sure Derek knows what he means, but there’s a hint of flush under that dark beard suddenly, and Stiles gets a little bit lost in the contrast.

“Last summer.”

“Last––?” It pulls Stiles back, his eyes startling up. That was… most of a year, that was before…

A sick lurch sets him falling back out of Derek’s grip. Too-smooth fingers (uncalloused) slip too easy from Derek’s chest. His sneaker-covered feet might as well be walking over glass and he’s being dramatic except that he’s really not. Because if Derek wanted him last summer…

“That wasn’t me.” It sounds wrong as he says it, stupid, because… he was there that summer. He remembers every moment spent with Derek, researching the Alphas, searching for hints of Boyd and Erica. Charged smirks and snark and quiet moments that felt more comfortable than they should. He remembers the moments before summer too, when the thought of Derek made his heart pound and his body thrum in a way that could have only meant fear, except it hadn’t only been fear. He’d been scared of the Alpha too, and the hunters, and that coil of electric heat only sparked through his gut for Derek. He remembers that, like he remembers the scars that aren’t there anymore, and he can’t help running his too-soft fingertips over the smooth flesh of his knuckle as he breathes out, faint and lost, “…Was that me?”

There’s a too long pause while the question burns back into his throat, buzzing through his limbs like a current until he realizes he’s shaking from them. Was that him? Helping Derek track the Alpha pack? Helping Scott learn to control his wolf? Sitting by his mom’s hospital bed, watching her lose the long war to her illness, pieces of her flaking away like old scars, like a whole identity, like––

A warm hand closes over his, large and gentle, grounding.

“It was you,” Derek says, simply. Like there’s no question, like nothing’s changed. Like Stiles hasn’t changed. 

But that’s wrong. He’s not the same person he was before the Nogitsune, and he’s not talking in the experiences change you, huh kind of way. He’d had scars before. He’d had… a whole life written on his skin. And then he’d crawled out from inside his possessed body’s throat, spawned out like some alien parasite or… clone and––

“My body died, back there.” Four months past, and he still can’t wrap his head around it. That he’d watched himself bitten and impaled, spasm and cracking and shatter to dust.

The scarred body. His real body.

And he was left in… this.

Long fingers uncurl, stretching out slow. Thin, pale digits fitting strangely perfect between Derek’s, and Stiles can only wonder what it would have looked like before.

“…What if I’m not real?” He watches Derek’s fingers twitch, barely perceptible, tightening like they’re fighting to hold onto him. And Derek’s lost enough in his life, too much. It’s a dick move to say this, to take anything else away from him, but… “What if the guy you wanted last summer… what if he died inside the Nogitsune, and I’m just––”

No.”

The sureness of it has Stiles’ throat clenching. He tilts his head, challenging. Finds Derek’s eyes again.

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you.”

Which is just… it’s stupid how that makes Stiles’ heart jump. Flutter around like it’s fighting to leap the distance between them and plaster itself all up against Derek’s stupid, muscled, secretly sweet as hell chest.

Which… yeah, that’s nearly a gross enough visual to stomp his fondness boner in the bud. He sets his jaw.

“Did you know I used to have a scar on––”

“Your right hand? Just above the third knuckle, a burn.”

Stiles’ argument stalls out. He blinks, finger shifting to rub over the space, but Derek’s is already there, soothing the phantom mark over his skin.

“I… was eleven.” Because silence has never been safe for him. Because noise distracts from the too-easy pleasure rippling up his arm. “First time I tried cooking dinner for me and dad. Mac and cheese, it… didn’t go great.” He wets his lips. Looks away “Or… the other me did, I don’t––”

You did.” And Derek still sounds so damn sure. Stiles wants to believe him. He parts his lips, can’t. Because––

“Stiles, I’ve never had scars on my skin. I… can’t relate to what it’s like to lose them. But the things that have happened to me… they’re not any less real because I can’t see them. Every bullet, cut, punch I’ve taken…” He might sense the wince forming on Stiles’ face, and shakes his head, shrugging that off like it’s not important. But that’s an argument for another day. “Every scar life gave you… they’re still there. You’re still carrying them, inside you.” He flits his eyes down Stiles’ frame, then away, finger soothing over the ghost burn. “There are plenty no one would have ever seen anyway. But they made you. Who you are, and who you are…” He shakes his head, looks back to meet Stiles’ eyes squarely. “You recognized me when I was a teenager. That’s the same person who recognized me in the preserve.” Stiles feels his face heat because… even knowing Derek’s a werewolf now, he’d never put together that Derek would have heard his fangirl moment to Scott after Derek had walked away.

Before he can speak up, though, Derek’s going on. “You tracked me to Mexico. Faced down the Calaveras to save me. That’s the same person who stared down the Argents, drove a Jeep into a kanima, who hit an Alpha with a wooden baseball bat––”

“Two Alphas,” Stiles cuts in, because props, ok? “Two, that were…” His free hand mimes squishing, and Derek’s lips twitch.

“Two,” he agrees, and Stiles can’t not smile back. Just for a second –– fond, helpless –– then he’s ducking his head. Derek sighs, catches his chin. Guides it up until their gazes lock again.

“That was you,” he says, so firmly Stiles can’t help believing this time. “Was the man who clawed his way out of his own possession. Followed Scott’s howl back to the real world. And whatever happened to your body, whatever… magic gave you a new one, Stiles came out with it. Your scars are still there, just…” His fingers trail to Stiles’ chest, and something thumps out eagerly to meet them.

“Inside,” Stiles breathes, and the way Derek’s eyes warm makes him shiver with a proud ripple of pleasure.

“Inside,” Derek echoes. Runs a thumb light along Stiles’ lip. “You could have come out of the Nogitsune looking like anything. Wouldn’t change who you are.”

And damn, Stiles has fallen for a goddamn poet in a grumpy wolf’s body. …But then, Stiles is pretty sure he’d known that already.

His fingers go up, curl gently into Derek’s shirt.

“But… you like this body,” he prompts, and Derek gives an exasperated huff, pulling him in.

“I like this body,” he confirms, and it doesn’t feel wrong to hear that.

When Derek kisses him this time, Stiles doesn’t pull away.

  • Hakuba to Kaito and Heiji: I can guarantee that I am the number one Sherlock fan and the best fan you'll ever meet.
  • *Conan walks by*
  • *Conan hears Hakuba*
  • Conan: *Opens suit to have every Sherlock Holmes book ever fall out and reveal Sherlock Holmes cosplay*
  • Conan: *puts on deerstalker hat*
  • Conan: *pulls out rifle, loads it, and aims it at Hakuba*
  • Conan: fiGHT ME
  • *Everyone backs away slowly*

I can’t promise that I’ll never hurt you or make you angry. In fact, I can tell you now that there will be times where I’m stubborn or distant and you’ll find it incredibly hard to deal with me.

But once I’m yours, I’m yours and I’ll never take you for granted. I know how much thought you put into the nice things you do and say and I’ll appreciate all of it. I’ll make you food at 3 am because, unlike you, I am an excellent cook. I’ll force you into taking an insufferable amount of pictures so I can show everyone how gorgeous you are. I’ll make you stupid mix CD’s filled with songs that remind me of you just because I can.

So no, I won’t be easy to love and I’ll probably drive you crazy. But I promise that I’ll fight very hard for a spot in your life.

—  Midnight thoughts (give me a chance to show you how you deserve to be treated)
3

the jasper school of “don’t worry, let it happen"
the monty school of “do the right thing, even if it’s hard”
and the side jaha chooses

she’s funny
always making me laugh,
if I didn’t say so myself,
she’s my second half.
the longing that has been haunting
her internal consciousness is finally regained.
she’s finally wanted
and heres how this will be explained.
Her father left, her mother unexpressed.
raining down tears of sadness she remained well-founded
and suppressed her fears.
Assisting everyone as she’s collapsing at the bridge of her feet, shaking down not able to stand for much longer.
All she wanted was to be relaxing.
Her body ached, her eyes enlarged, not baring a single minute of each school day.
She found purpose.
and she stood tall no longer nervous for the sadness to flood her veins.
She remodeled and rebuilt who she was to who she is now.
Her sadness will remain forbidden in the pits of her soul, away from the surface above.
and this is where something called love is in control.
Love is guiding her gently through the horrifying abyss.
finding her way through the terrifying reality that not everyone will bow to her feet.
Looking around, her palms sweaty, people talking, as if their lips were walking. But what they were articulating, was echoing through her manipulating sanity.
love guides her out of the insanity that is aching to fill her foreign constitution.
the difficulties she encounters are only mountains to be climbed and oceans to cross.
Never the less will love help her across.
She’s stronger than love, she doesn’t need love.
But without her love she wouldn’t be above the rest of society.
Cancer is her sign, very vulnerable at any given time.
But she doesn’t usually face her design head on.
compatible with a pisces, they fit just fine. heightened emotions mixed with romantic ambitions, the two will eternally love each other like fine wine at a celebration.
she knows how to make you feel invincible.
Like you are the most visible sight in her journey through this universe. No need to question her love because she will devote herself to the one she cherishes most.
Beautiful is an understatement.
She has honey sweet lips. They are lilac soft.
she has a soothing voice. And a joyous personality.
Only anyone around her felt warm inside.
Uneasy at times she does not notice the rays of sun that radiate when she smiles.
They would travel for miles, at least 3,032 to a place called New York.
Big city, bright lights. Not a fantasy but a dream, you could almost imagine hearing her adolescent tittering about the unfamiliar city.
Her heart internally placed in New York, but not the city itself.
A girl perhaps, holds her heart, firm- like a scholar and his smarts.
undying trust in one another the two of them slowly developed into one.
fighting the distance soon enough it’ll be all done.
No more distance no more patience.
So here I am, describing my extraordinary girlfriend, the love and compassion she has for her beloved family, friends and me. Enough to last a lifetime.
when you read this I hope this gives you the confidence that lies between my eyes and yours. I see the girl that can get through it all. Who will never truly fall.
—  She’s my world 

I am a firm believer in true love. I do believe that there is someone out there for me who will eventually sweep me off my feet and make me wonder why I ever settled for anybody else. There is a man out there for me, with whom I will celebrate countless anniversaries, Valentine’s Days and birthdays. There is a man with whom I will be able to get through any fight, distance or hardship, knowing that nothing will ever change. There is a man out there with whom I will share an unbreakable bond, held together by the deep desires of love.

But not today.

I don’t want someone I “won’t be able to imagine my life without.” I don’t want someone to “have my whole heart.” I don’t want someone to be “my whole world,” or “my rock,” or “my better half.” I don’t want somebody who can understand me better than I can understand myself.

I want to feel whole. I want to be my own rock, my own anchor, my own soul mate. I want to understand myself better than anyone else can. I don’t want to look back and hate myself for altering my future for someone else when I know I wasn’t ready to.

That’s why I don’t want to find the man I will love forever today. Or tomorrow. Or the day after that.


For those who know me, you know that when I fall, I fall fast and I fall hard. I am a hopeless romantic who wears my heart on my sleeve. I simply love the idea of being in love. I can’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t have some type of interest in a guy. I love having a “texting buddy.” I love feeling desired. I have gotten hurt a few times, but I always pick myself up and try to move on. Moving on is hard for me, though, simply because I love being in love. I’ve called guys my “better half” and my “rock.” I’ve convinced myself that I couldn’t picture my life without them. I’m starting to realize now that that’s the last thing I want in my future relationship. Especially as a young woman in my early 20s. Before I enter into any serious relationship, I need to feel like I’m complete. And I need to be able to feel complete while completely alone.

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