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If These Walls Could Talk 2

If these walls could talk, they would tell you my secrets, my hopes, my dreams, and my fears. They would show you glimpses of past, present, and future. Of short days and long nights, of sunburns and secret kisses. Of that one song you couldn’t get out of your head that one summer. Of thoughts of that one person that always meant too much and gave too little.

If these walls could talk, they would tell you about the laughter and the tears, of the late-night phone calls, and the eye crinkling smiles. Of the walls covered with trophies that mean jack shit and affirmations reminding you to keep breathing.

If these walls could talk, they would give you insight into the life of a girl who has been both too much and too little to many people. They would speak of a girl who has been close to death but also full of life. They would show you that the dusk and the dawn are equally beautiful, but the midnight sky is vast and endless when you put stars in her eyes.

If these walls could talk, you would hear ambulance sirens and hushed whispers in hallways, mixed signals and too many feelings; fucking insanity reincarnate.

If these walls could talk, would you listen?

s. k. g.

Who wants a Sebastian Stan series?

Just like the Chris Evans series I writing I want this Sebastian Stan series to stand as such and or each chapter on its own. There is no right or wrong place to start from and want to know who is looking forward to something with Seb

Originally posted by bovaria

If you are interested send me a response in my inbox
as yet unnamed [ 7/23 ]

{ dazai osamu x reader }


a boy from yesterday and a girl from tomorrow. it is a story for today, but neither belong.

tagging: @bandagekinkedasshat


one of my favorite chapters is coming up after this one! also, omg senpai reblogged the one before this and noticed


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三 ; postcard three: hot pot


You liked hot pot, right, [Name]?

We used to walk by this place every time we went to the street markets. You glanced at it every so often, but you didn’t say much about it. The windows were always fogged up, the door slightly open, and business all around the clock. You said that the place must be good, before changing the subject to something that happened at work. I tried it last week, and it was. You were right, like you so often were.

If I were being honest, I never was too sure about you. You didn’t like to talk much about yourself. What you liked, who you were, where you came from - it was all a secret. You even had a smile for it, with your lips pressed together and eyes sliding shut, it was the kind of secret that you would never part with even if it could save the world. And I wanted to find out.

If I ever do, I hope you tell me if I’m right.

—-wish you were here.