girls are sill

Cups of Black Coffee
But with Y/N, he could be himself. There was no second guessing himself when he spoke, no wishing he could just talk to a girl as well as he could write to a girl. There was none of that, but there were her happy eyes and his wobbly smile over cups of black coffee, and Calum figured that was enough for now.


The second part to 3 O’Clock Thoughts.

Part 1

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I roll off, and I would have fallen face-first onto a wood floor if he had not caught me. “He” is the young man attached to the hand I grabbed. He has a spare upper lip and a full lower lip. His eyes are so deep-set that his eyelashes touch the skin under his eyebrows, and they are dark blue, a dreaming, sleeping, waiting color. His hands grip my arms, but he releases me a moment after I stand upright again. “Thank you,” I say. We stand o n a platform ten feet above the ground.

Around us is an open cavern. “Can’t believe it,” a voice says from behind him. It belongs to a dark-haired girl with three sill verins through her right eyebrow. She smirks at me. “A Stiff, the first to jump? Unheard of.” “There’s a reason why she left them, Lauren,” he says.

His voice is deep, and it rumbles. “What’s your name?” “Um…” I don’t know why I hesitate. But “Beatrice” just sound right anymore. “Think about it,” he says, a faint smile curling his lips. “You don’t get to pick again.” A new place, a new name. I can be remade here. “Tris,” I say fi rmly. “Tris,” Lauren repeats, grinning. “Make the announcement, Four.” The boy—Four—looks over his shoulder and shouts, “First jumper—Tris!” A crowd materializes from the darkness as my eyes adjust.


The yell shattered the horribly eerie silence that had been present in this destroyed lab for so long. But what was most disconcerting was that this cry came from a child who could be no more than six years old.

His eyes were red, not just from crying, but the irises themselves were red. That combined with his deep blue hair confirmed that this child hadn’t been born naturally. He’d been grown and was probably an Innovade, one released too early.

He was crouched in front of a set of three shattered holding tanks, glass underneath his bare feet, pointing a shaky sidearm at Tieria’s hip. Beyond him, a truly sad sight, two other children face down in the shattered glass, unmoving. One, a boy a few years older, the other, a girl about his age. Their sill living companion was perched defensively in front of them, protecting them even now.

“I m-m-mean it. Get away. I’ll shoot you. I-I’m not scared!” He squeezed the trigger threateningly but with how badly he was shaking his aim would be wild and probably not hit what he intended to.

this is why cat person

me: “hi pretty girl” <3
cat: [ jumps off window sill onto a stack of books ]
me: [ watches poetry book fall to floor ugh
cat: [ licks paw ]
books: ugh, fuck this
cat: [ jumps from stack of books to floor ]
books: sugar, we’re goin’ down swingin’!
cat: [ licks paw ]
me: [ screaming ] “run!”
cat: [ calmly sidesteps 5lb norton anthology ]
me: [ whispering ] "…asshole"