vacant heart

The Signs as Quotes

Aries“I’m seventeen and I’m crazy. My uncle says the two always go together. When people ask your age, he said, always say seventeen and insane.”

Taurus: “I’ll be more human when I am settled in my snow and silence.”

Gemini: “It’s rare to meet someone with a mind just as beautiful as their face”

Cancer: “The only way of knowing a person is to love them without hope.”

Leo: “Confidence is quiet. Insecurities are loud.”

Virgo: “Sometimes skulls are thick. Sometimes hearts are vacant. Sometimes words don’t work.”

Libra: “Dusk: a blade of honey between our shadows, draining”

Scorpio: “The only thing I know is this: I am full of wounds and still standing on my feet.”

Sagittarius: “I’ll live how I want, I’ll die how I please; move aside if you can’t take responsibility for me.”

Capricorn: “I’ve been working so hard that I’m exhausted… I feel I won’t be able to do without a few weeks’ rest, so I’m going off to see the sea.“

Aquarius: “At dawn my soul lives forever, at dusk I bathe in eternity.”

Pisces: “I wish that photographs were physical spaces, like tunnels; that you could crawl inside them and go back.”

anonymous asked:

98. "You believe me, don't you?"

98. “You believe me, don’t you?”

Harry didn’t know what to do. You hadn’t come to bed last night, he didn’t think you’d come home at all if he was being honest. Or if you had, it had been well into the night after he’d fallen asleep waiting for you in a bed that felt too cold without you around to warm it.

He wasn’t used to sleeping alone anymore, but for the last few weeks your presence in bed had been almost as absent as your presence in the flat the two of you had moved into over a year ago.

The ring he’d picked out within months of meeting you sits heavy in the pocket of one of his old, forgotten winter coats. He’d never managed to figure out the right time, the right place, the right way to do it…so he hadn’t done it at all.

And now he was beginning to think he was too late.

You’d been gone the whole day, no texts or calls letting Harry know when you’d be home or who you were with. Just an empty home reflecting his vacant heart.

He wonders if this had anything to do with the rumours about him and some model he’d met at the party you’d pretended to be too sick to attend.

But he’d told you they were just rumours and this wasn’t the first time it had happened, so he wasn’t sure.

He spent the day wondering, pacing the empty halls with nothing but his own footsteps echoing around the walls.

It was late into the evening when you finally walked through the door. At first he was relieved and then when you only glanced up at him, no greeting or acknowledgement, he grew angry.

“Ok, what’s going on?” He demanded, blocking you from moving away from him.

You took a step back, putting some distance between the two of you and Harry couldn’t quite shake the pang of hurt that shot through him.

“Nothing’s going on, Harry,” you say calmly, eyes empty and face carefully blank. “’M just tired.”

“No,” he shook his head. “Something’s not right. You’ve not been the same for weeks. We’ve not been the same. You’re never home anymore,” he accused.

“No, Harry,” you shook your head. “Things haven’t been same for months, not weeks,” you said, twisting the dagger already in his heart. “But you’ve only just started to notice.”

“Is…is there someone else?” He asked anxiously, unaware he was holding his breath for your answer.

You laughed bitterly. “Wouldn’t that be simple,” you mused. “But no, there’s no one else. Only you,” you said, but instead of sounding reassuring you sounded sad, making Harry’s anxiety worsen.

“Then…what’s changed?” He asked cautiously.

“Everything and nothing,” you shrugged.

“I don’t understand.”

“I thought…I thought once the tour was over, once you came home, you’d be home. But nothing really changed. Sure you slept in the same bed most nights, but you were never really around and every bloody week there’d be an article about you and some new model…” you trailed off, unable to look him in the eyes.

“I told you…you don’t…none of those rumours are true. You believe me, don’t you?” You looked away when he tried to capture your gaze, making his heart pound faster in his chest. “Don’t you?” He repeated, desperation seeping into his words.

“I’m not sure what to believe,” you admitted, and it was like the air was sucked out of the room and Harry couldn’t breathe. You had to believe him, you had to. Because if you didn’t…he didn’t want to think about what it meant if you didn’t.

“Do you even love me anymore, Harry?” You questioned.

So lost in his own muddled despair, he almost missed your question. “How could you even ask that?” He said, a little more forceful than he’d intended. “How could you even doubt it?”

You shrug, looking over his shoulder. “Doesn’t really feel like you do anymore,” you tell him, missing the was his face contorts with pain at your confession.

“I…I’ve always loved you,” he says, unsure what else to do. “I will always love you. Please,” he pleads with you trying to get you to look at him.

You do at last, and he almost wishes you hadn’t seeing all the doubt and mistrust in your gaze. “I don’t know what to do,” you say quietly.

He wonders how it got to this, how he’d fucked up so monumentally that you’d look at him like that. “Don’t leave me,” he says immediately. “Don’t leave me and I promise, i promise you, I will fix this.”

“I don’t know if you can,” you say so quietly Harry almost misses it. He wishes he had.

“Please,” he says just as quietly, he’s not sure he could speak any loudly past the lump in his throat if he’d tried. “Don’t leave.”

You look at him, equal parts sad and doubtful. “I don’t think I ever could,” is all you say before struggling past Harry and leaving him wondering how it all went so wrong so quick.

I keep apologizing to my
arms for not having you
in them & rewriting songs
on my lips to soften the
lonely growing vacant in
my heart, patterns weren’t
meant to color my backhand
a coveted noise just to
keep you glancing back &
lately I don’t know who I’m
writing about anymore
because I’ve left pieces of
myself behind in too many
hearts, but everyday feels
like winter without



I Dissolve into you.
Under the beauty of your skin.
Deep in the unclean parts.
I admire the wickedness that stirs within.
I see for myself the constructs of your existence.
I touch the crux of you, caressing the cogs of your being.
The outside world stinks of deceit.
Lies float, like puffs of smoke from frost hearts melting in their warm bodies.
My truth is in here with you.
The comfort of your flesh engulfs me.
Lodged between blood and bone.
I make myself at home.

©R. Marrs

I’ve been hoarding some underused labels for a long time, and I think it’s time to release them. Under the cut are labels that I would consider “underused” since I haven’t seen them or barely seen them. There are definitions attached, written by yours truly, to help you out if you don’t completely understand them. Please like or reblog this if it helped you out or you use one of them! I’d really appreciate that. Otherwise, have fun using them! No credit is needed to be given to me if you use a label from this.

Keep reading

I'll See You On The Other Side

Prompt: In a world where reincarnation exists Alexander Hamilton is the only man alive who remembers his past lives. Throughout his over two hindered years of living, and remembering every minute of it he’s never met anyone from his first life. Most importantly, he’s never seen Eliza after lying on his death bed in 1804.

Warnings: death? (I think that’s it, please let me know if I’ve missed anything).

Part 1: first life Disclaimer: I actually got this idea from another blog, unfortunately I can’t remember who so if it’s you let me know so I can give you credit!

“Alexander!” The scream of a distressed wife echoed throughout the almost vacant hospital halls. Alexander’s heart stopped the moment the echo reached his room and bounced on the walls surrounding him.

‘My Eliza’, he thought to himself, a small smile forming on his lips.
“Alexander.” She called again, much weaker, more broken, as she stopped, her eyes on locked on her husband.
“My love,” he began slowly reaching his arm out to her. She ran to his side, immediately occupying the chair at his bedside. She takes his hand in hers, trying her best to fight the urge to hold tightly.

“Alexander…” she began, her voice now weavering as tears welled in her desperate brown eyes. “Please, please don’t leave me.” She begged, looking longingly into her husbands tired eyes. Her hand shook in his, he didn’t have the strength to try and stop it.
“My dear Eliza, tell the children I love them with all of my heart. Tell them I’m sorry for all of the suffering I’ve caused you. Please remember that there is nothing I regret more in this lifetime than causing you pain.” He spoke quietly, weakly, gasping for breath as he finished speaking.

“Alexander no, no don’t speak like this. You can survive this! We can survive this!” She pleaded.
“My love, please say I have your forgiveness.” He begged, his eyes closing slowly.
“No, no, look at me!” She demanded, her voice quivering. His dreary eyes opened, resting on hers. “I forgive you. I forgive, and I love you,” his eyes closed once one more. And before opening them he began speaking.
“Eliza, take your time. I’ll see you on the other side, my god I can’t wait to see you again.” He said with a weak laugh.
“I’m right here Alexander, there’s no need to wait, I’m here I’m-”
“Until then, my love.” He whispered. His breathing slowed, his hand grew limp in hers, and the heart monitor beeped, the subtle sound piercing to her ears, deafening her and she watch the line go flat.

And the shrilling scream she emitted in that moment was a sound that would be burned in every other visitors minds for the rest of their lives. Especially Angelica’s. She ran to her sister, tears streaming steadily down her cheeks, as she kneeled down to embrace Eliza.

“He’s gone.” Eliza sobbed, shaking in Angelica’s arms.
“Shhhhh, I know, I know.” She cooed, her breath catching in her throat. This came naturally to Angelica, consoling her sisters even when she could barely keep herself together. Eliza had been through a lot, and Angelica always made sure that she was the one there to help her through it. This was no exception, despite the fact that Angelica was breaking inside, her heart shattering, her world crashing down. Eliza was all that mattered in that moment and forever.
“You’ll be together again someday.” She reassured her, but neither knew when, or how.
“I know.” Eliza croaked, wiping her tear stained cheeks, and looking at her husbands limp body one last time.

aoikanda  asked:

Hello again! I hope you are doing well! I was wondering if I could request a scene where Lavi crush or s/o is there when he losses his mind to Road and how they deal with it till he breaks free from it? Been loving reading these! They bring a smile to me everytime. ♡♡

Originally posted by veeenas

(YAS. I think about this a lot.)

Originally posted by mangastream

The Noah were vile, despicable beings, this much was clear. They got into people’s minds and messed with them. They made them turn on their friends, forcing them to battle to the death. Lavi Bookman was fighting Allen Walker, and there wasn’t anything you could do to stop it. 

You banged on the walls of your prison, first with your fists, then with your legs, trying to kick the walls out. It was a risky, dangerous move, given the fact that Lenalee and Chaoji were cramped in there with you. But you couldn’t keep watching this. Lavi would never do this; you needed to kill the damned Noah who was playing with his mind, using your Lavi as a damn puppet. 

You couldn’t use your Innocence in such small quarters, and there were needle sharp candles inching closer and closer towards the box. You had to stop altogether when they finally penetrated the box, making it a pincushion. You were right there and yet you couldn’t help them. You couldn’t do anything, and it made you sick. All you could do at this point was call out to him, make him see reason. Maybe you could reach where Allen and Lenalee couldn’t.

“Lavi!” You cried. “Lavi, stop! That’s Allen! He’s your friend!”

Lavi didn’t seem to hear you. He kept thrashing Allen to a bruised and bloody pulp, and Allen, in an attempt to protect himself, could only raise his sword to guard himself in vain. The force behind Lavi’s punches sent Allen flying back. You threw a hand up over your mouth as you watched in horror. All you could hear was Lenalee and Allen’s pleas and the sick cackling of the Noah behind all of this. 

Lavi!” You screamed. “Lavi! Lavi, Lavi, Lavi! Stop it! Please stop! Listen to me!” Tears streamed down your cheeks. He was too far gone, you weren’t reaching him. “This isn’t you! You would never hurt Allen! You wouldn’t hurt any of us!” You turned to glare at the female Noah. “You bitch! Leave him alone! You’re a coward!” 

Road stuck her tongue out at you as she cradled Tyki’s head to her chest. Her eyes were manic as she watched the scene before her. You cried for Lavi, your pleas mixing in with those of your comrades. You began beating your fists off the walls of your cell again, ignoring the sharp pain shooting up your arm every time you made contact with the sharp edge of the candle. Your hands were a bloody mess but you didn’t care. All you cared about was trying to get your lover to stop. 

Lavi paused, briefly, and turned his head ever so slightly to look at you. You froze, your battered hands raised, as you stared at him. His eye seemed so lifeless, so vacant. Your heart hurt so much. Your voice had gone raw from the screaming, so all you could do was sob out his name, no louder than a whisper. Lavi watched you for a second longer before turning back to Allen. He had his iron hammer in his grip, enlarged and ready to attack. The fire stamp sigil lit up beneath his feet. Flames danced around him as he stared Allen down. Instead of using the fire to finish Allen off, he twirled his hammer so that the head was pointed towards the ground. The flames roared as he brought it down. You realized to late what he was doing and screamed yourself hoarse, picking back up your assault on the wall. He was going to kill himself to stop from taking the life of his friend.

Allen ran towards his friend, Crown Clown at the ready. The flames licked up the sides of Lavi’s body and you thought, This is it, this is how I lose him. Allen dove into the flames and wrapped Crown Clown’s cloak around both him and Lavi. You felt your heart stop, your breath shallow, as the flames slowly burned themselves out and a large rock structure was left it their destructive wake. Silence filled the room. You were distantly aware of the fact that Road had a dagger protruding from her chest, but you had no idea how it got there. Nobody was near enough to touch her. But you weren’t concerned for her sake. You hoped it killed her. 

Your cell opened up and dumped you, Lenalee, and Chaoji onto the ground. The rock spire shook and crumbled, and out emerged the familiar heads of red and white hair. You took a deep, shaky breath, and scrambled to get up and sprinted towards them. Lenalee beat you to it, and punched both of them for scaring her so badly. While they tried to apologize, you slipped past her and through yourself at Lavi, forcing him back roughly. He yelped and coughed violently as you clung to him for dear life. You were shaking terribly, crying into his shoulder.

“Don’t ever do that again, don’t scare me like that,” You demanded, your voice small. “I thought I’d lost you.”

He wrapped his arms around you and buried his face against you. He blubbered out a string of apologies, but you had already forgiven him. He had snapped out of it all on his own, and because of that both he and Allen were alive. You tilted your head and looked at Allen. You mouthed “thank you” at him and he nodded, understanding just how deeply you meant that.


“You must realize, my dear child that not everyone in the world is like you. There are those who walk among us, who have no heart. They may look like you and me, but where their heart should be, is only a rusted-out, vacant hole, rimmed by ragged iron teeth.”

To The Boy...


To the boy who I believed to be my soul mate: Do you remember when love was just a word and not a fight? Do you remember a time when I would stop and kiss the honey from honey suckles, a time when I was at least friends with life, on occasion.  There was a time when I related to the stars because they were vibrant and glowing, and not just because they were made of fire.  There was a time when you held me together.


To the boy who taught me love is synonymous for self destruction:  It’s been four years, and I am somewhere between being ready to live my life and wanting desperately to lock myself away.  It’s been four years, and I still think about you nearly every day, even if only for a second.  It’s been four years and I think I’m ready to fall in love again.  I think I know how to.  But falling in love is nothing like riding a bike, and you can forget.


To the boy who made me believe I was hard to love:I don’t miss you anymore.  But somehow one phone call after God only knows how many months, sent on a downward spiral.  I fell into old habits, I guess it’s true that bad habits never really go away, they just fade slightly.  Four years later and I’m still ripping my heart out of my chest and serving it to you on a silver platter, knowing damn well you don’t even want it.  I think it’s time you explain what you want from me because in my purest form I was never good enough for you.  You don’t love me, but you can’t let anyone else love me either.  I only ever wanted the best for you but you had a way of poisoning anything I ever tried to grow.


To the boy who destroyed me:  Why didn’t you ever come home to me, baby?  I begged and pleaded, all I ever wanted was to love you.  Even when you rejected me I kept waiting for you because I was convinced you would find your way back into my arms somewhere down the line, but you never did.  You spent weeks with strangers in your bed while I poured my heart out in ink on paper that would never understand what it truly felt like to miss you.  Missing you felt like drowning in a glass half empty.  Never again will anyone damage me the way you did.  


To the boy who still continues to haunt me:  You took him from me, and you knew exactly what you were doing.  Why can’t anyone else love me?  What did I do to be so undeserving of love in your eyes?  I am the only space that can never seem to be too full for you, and so you continue to haunt me.  I spent night after night after night chasing your ghost down every hallway in my vacant heart.  And every morning I ended up with empty hands, but this time I was hunting your ghost on borrowed time.


To the boy who can no longer destroy me: You don’t want me and you know it, and I know it. The sun itself is a narcissist but you make him look selfless.  You are an expert at sorry and always keeping the lines blurry, but the only thing you have ever cared about is winning.  You win. You have finally earned my disgust.  I choose him, and I think it’s finally time I write a chapter without you.


To the boy I love now:

I am so fucking sorry, I swear to God I never meant for this.  I choose you, I have chosen you, and I will continue to choose you and only you for as long as I have the privilege.  I am a vacant, dust-covered house because it has been sometime since anyone has cared to visit.  But I promise you I am full of good intentions and potential to love you the way that you deserve.  I have a past of making promises that I’m not always sure I can keep, but this one I will.  


My love,

Please be gentle with me, I adore you, I adore you, I adore you.  And I apologize, but I cannot apologize for being rough around the edges.  I am a work in progress, and I want you to destroy this unoccupied house that I have become, or at least paint it a different color.  I want to become a home, and I want to do it with you, for you, and because of you.


Dark To Light

Oliver was thinking of that conversation he had with Felicity last year, here in the Bunker.

They had just come back from Ivy Town. Oliver was filled with doubts about returning to the life he thought was behind him. The happiness and love he had shared with Felicity during the five months they were away brought him the kind of peace and contentment he would never thought possible, not after the pain and darkness and brutality his life had been before he started his crusade.

The vacant look in Oliver’s eyes shifted over to Felicity’s empty chair. He remembered telling her about his doubts that day. He tried to explain to her that for him to fight against darkness, he had to become darkness. He told her that he didn’t want to be that person anymore. She leaned into him, and with love in her eyes and in her voice, Felicity told Oliver that he didn’t bring the darkness back from Lian Yu. She also tried to reassure him that he wasn’t doing this alone anymore.

The emptiness of the Bunker, the dark computer screens and lack of activity was a weight pressing down on Oliver. He sat alone in the darkness, a shade of black that almost made him feel at home. And this place was a home for him, a place of friendship and support and love. It was a sanctuary, a haven, a fortress. It gave him a purpose and a hope that he could make a difference, that he could step away from the chaos his life had been before, and not only save himself, but an entire city.

Felicity was wrong. He was alone. It became his new reality ever since that night the Gambit went down. When he washed up on the shores of Lian Yi, Oliver started a journey that led him to the darkness he tried to tell Felicity about. It smothered him, propelled him, and it was out of his control.

Felicity told him he felt a schism inside him. The darkness split him in half—one half was like a drowning, a state of mind that offered him no hope of being found and rescued. The other half was a redemption, a sense that he could struggle to the surface and find survival and strength  and the warm sunshine of a new day.

It was all false. There had never been a schism. It has always been just darkness. Chase showed this to him. He put it in front of Oliver and made it personal. And Oliver breathed life back into it.

He closed his eyes and the darkness of the Bunker deepened.


Everything that made Felicity who she was—what she felt, what she thought, how she loved and cried and fought; all of it wouldn’t have become a part of her if Oliver hadn’t come into her cubicle with his bullet-ridden laptop and changed her life.

She had been trying to move away from this for the past year. She tried to find a reason, any reason ,to let him go.

The only light in the loft was a single candle sitting on the table in front of the couch she sat on. It flickered and danced in her eyes, mesmerizing and giving a her a place to focus. Earlier, Felicity tried to sleep, but when she closed her eyes, the image of Oliver coming back from Chase’s chamber of horrors filled her senses. She saw him standing in front of her, bleeding and scarred, beaten and almost vacant. Her heart  broke, and in that moment, Felicity would have forgotten everything that had separated them, all the pain and heartache and suffering she had gone through. She wanted to go to him and hold him, try to ease his mind and body and soul. She wanted to love him.

Instead, she climbed out of bed, went downstairs and lit a candle. The flame was like another image of Oliver; a single flame surrounded by darkness. It was fragile and small and it would only take a paper thin breath to snuff it out.

Felicity tried to imagine what Oliver had been feeling and thinking as he made his way back to the Bunker last week. Those six days of torture Chase put him through must have brought back all the horrors Oliver experienced on the island and Hong Kong and Russia. He must have felt so alone, finally reaching his decision to quit, to give up everything he had fought and almost died for all these years. In that short week, Chase took from Oliver his purpose and drive, erased the hero he became, leaving only an empty shell. When he told her and John that he didn’t want to make a difference anymore, five years of fighting and loving and saving threatened to drain from Felicity. She stared at his wounds and felt afraid.

Felicity pulled the green blanket she had wrapped herself in tighter around her body.

What happened to Oliver was a visual incarnation of some of the stuff he must have gone through those five years he was away, but he rarely, if at all, ever talked about them. When he came back last week, Oliver looked like a small boy, afraid and lonely and needing a voice, a touch, a smile. He didn’t want to play anymore. Felicity, (and she knew John was thinking the same thing) wanted to protect Oliver like he protected both of them so many times. John was angry at Oliver for wanting to go back to being Mayor and having to interact with Chase again. It was a sham and the absolute worst thing Oliver could have done. Every time Oliver went to his office, it was him admitting defeat, and both she and John had never seen that from him. Oliver was drifting away in that defeat, and it scared them.

Felicity leaned forward and blew the candle out. No, she thought. Oliver needed his family. He needed a reason, a reminder that he was loved and cared about. He needed strength. He would do the same for her if the roles were reversed.

Felicity got off the couch, got dressed and found her way through the darkness of the loft and out into the night. Oliver was worth saving. She was not going to let him fade away.


When the lights came on, Oliver blinked and looked around the suddenly illuminated Bunker. The brightness confused him at first, and he had a sudden image of Chase coming back into the room he held Oliver in, coming back to bring more pain and regret and acknowledgement of Oliver’s past. Oliver began to feel afraid again.

Then he looked up from his chair, and Felicity was there.

“Oliver,” she softly spoke to him. “I need…I need to talk to you.” She hesitated and looked into his eyes. Again, she could see the vacancy in them. It felt like she was looking at a stranger, not at the man she knew and cared about and loved. “Oliver…”

“Felicity, what are you doing here?” His voice was dulled by his recent memories. “It’s…it’s late.”

Felicity went over and grabbed her chair away from her station and rolled it next to Oliver. “I told you, I need to talk to you. I want…to see if you’re okay.”

Oliver shook his head. “Felicity, I don’t’ think…I really don’t want to talk right now. And I don’t think I’ll ever be okay again.”

First anger, then grief and fear went through Felicity as Oliver brushed off her concern for his well-being. She hesitated again in her determination to reach him.

“Felicity,” he spoke again. “You should go home. I don’t want to make you upset or angry.”

“Oliver, you’re not making me angry. And I couldn’t sleep. I was hoping you would be here. I thought you might be with Susan…and I almost…”

Oliver shook his head again. “There is…there is no more Susan.” He looked at Felicity and a small tear rolled out of his eyes and down his cheek. “I told her…I told her it wasn’t safe for her to be with me anymore.”

In spite of his anguish, Felicity felt a brief moment of relief at this news. She had to fight against the smile that threatened to break out on her face. “Oliver,” she told him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you felt that you had to let her go.”

Oliver just stared back at her and said nothing.

“Uh…are you sure it was the right thing to do?” Felicity asked him.

Oliver sighed. “I’m not sure of anything anymore. It might not have been the right thing, but it was…it was necessary.”

This time, it was Felicity who stared back and had nothing to say.

“Felicity,” Oliver suddenly said to her, completely changing the subject. “Do you remember when you told me that I didn’t bring the darkness back with me from Lian Yu? That I wasn’t alone anymore?”

Felicity shook her head, confused. “No,” she responded. “I’m not…” Then she remembered. “Oh yeah. It was after we came back from Ivy Town.”

Oliver nodded. “Right. I think you were trying to reassure me that we made the right decision coming back.” He looked deeply into her eyes, almost pleading with her. “But Felicity, you were wrong. I did bring it back. I brought it back and infected everybody with it. And you were also wrong about me being alone anymore. I am always going to be alone.”

Felicity felt her own tears start to fall.

Pain filled Oliver’s voice as he went on. “I’ve done things…horrible things that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to…”

“Oliver, I love you,” Felicity blurted out.

Oliver looked at her. “I don’t think that matters anymore,” he told her. “I don’t deserve you loving me.”

Felicity was openly crying now. “Oliver, I don’t know what Chase did to you, what he said to you—but I know you. I changed…you changed my life because you showed me what’s possible when someone believes in a person. You believed in me, Oliver. And I believe…still believe in you. Please don’t shut me out. Don’t leave me.”

A brief recognition began to shine in Oliver’s eyes. He started to reach out his hand—then he pulled it back.


Then Oliver seemed to sigh with resignation. “Felicity,” he whispered. “I don’t know if I could survive…if anything happened to you…to John, or the rest of everyone.”

“Oliver, nothing’s going to happen. And you didn’t…it doesn’t matter to me if you think me loving you doesn’t matter to you.”

Another glimmer of acknowledgement filled his eyes. “I…Felicity, I need to tell you some things, some things that might change your mind about loving me.”

Felicity didn’t want to say anything that would break this delicate moment that was about to happen. So she sat still and silent, and waited for Oliver to let her in.

“When I was in Russia,” he began. “There was a man…a man I skinned alive…”

@hope-for-olicity @almondblossomme @louiseblue1 @swordandarrow @tdgal1 @dmichellewrites @jamyjan @marytagus @buffaleen @ruwithmeguys

@ibelievenu @sweetzcupcake @joverwatch @smkkbert

gun shot wounds and heroin overdoses
because everything hurts too much
or nothing hurts at all

they crack jokes at their expense
plotting their next move
as soon as they’re released

slit wrists and empty pill bottles
because the tears wouldn’t stop
drowning under their weeping hearts

vacant stares, flat affect
nobody is home
pitstop on their way to the grave

When You’re Gone

Pairing: George Washington x Reader

Word Count: 1872

Warnings: Kidnapping mention

Summary: When you are visiting your family, some jerk decides to tell George you were kidnapped and he believes it.

It had been a long time since he had seen you.

The war was dragging on and on, and he was only able to come home to you every few months.

Falling in love had been the easy part. He had always been the romantic type. You couldn’t count the number of times he had surprised you with flowers, which he had picked himself, or a picnic in the park under the stars.

He would do anything for you.

It had been four months since you had seen him last. This post was the longest yet and you were lonely.

The days were long and the nights even longer, the empty space where he should be weighed heavy on your heart.

The last letter he sent was vague on if he would be returning anytime soon. He had many words about a particular General who had completely ruined a battle in Monmouth.

He had no words of home or his return and his frustration was evident in the words. He had half-heartedly thrown words of love in at the very end and it was signed with just his last name, not the usual “Yours Truly, George” that graced the parchment.

You were lost at what to do. Being in this empty home had been getting to you these last few weeks and you really needed to be with family, even if it was only for a short time.

You missed George more than words could ever try to explain and the his place in your heart was vacant. Not only because he was not with you, but because you never knew if he was safe. Was he eating? Sleeping? You knew how he got when it became overwhelming. The man was stubborn and he will do anything to help others, even if that meant putting off his own well-being.

As you sat at the table reading his letter over again, the tears fell relentlessly.

You wish he wasn’t the General. Although you knew very well they all needed him, you selfishly needed him too.

You crumple the letter and throw it to the corner of his study. You always felt so close to him in here. His handwriting was everywhere and the desk was in the same disarray as it was when he left months ago.
You decide it is time to go. You needed to be with people who understood your longing and who could make the hole seem smaller while you awaited his return.

You decide not to pack anything, your parent’s home still stocked with clothes from when you visited the times before, and the only piece you really needed to bring from home was the present George had given to you after a few months of courting.

It was a necklace, but it was unlike anything you had ever seen. That was because he had made it himself.

You still remember how much he blushed and kept saying it looked stupid and ugly, he had even tried to take it back after showing it to you. You had only laughed and kissed his lips. It was beautiful.

Sure it was kind of short and the chain had an uneven texture, but he had made it himself, and whenever you wore it or mentioned it the smile he beamed in return was enough to make it your favorite piece of jewelry.

Now as you pull it out you are flooded with more emotion. Anger creeps up and bubbles. Before you can understand what is happening you throw the necklace at the wall.

You regret it immediately and check to see if it has broken from the impact and are relieved when it is still in one piece.

You leave it there nonetheless, your heart beating furiously as you open the door and head toward your parents’ home at the opposite end of the city.


George was utterly exhausted.

The days were beginning to blur together and he was ready to be home.

He had been awake for too long and it was clear it was getting to him. He had completely lost it with Alexander earlier in the day, snapping at him to go home to his wife, who had just happened to be pregnant. He couldn’t wait to hear from him when he arrived home only to learn he had known for the last month.

He sighed as he stared at the tent wall.

He wanted to be home. Y/N was home.

He had been so caught up in the happenings of the last battle that he hadn’t been thinking straight when he wrote his last letter. He couldn’t stop the messenger in time and now he was staring at a blank piece of parchment trying to come up with some form of apology.

He just wanted to be with Y/N and make it up to her in person.

Another hour of staring and he was interrupted.
Apparently Charles Lee was stirring up some commotion outside the camp.

When George arrived Lee was being held by two calvary men.

“I told them I just wanted to speak to you!” He struggles against their hold.

“Calm down Mr. Lee, what is it you needed to speak to me about?” George ushered the soldiers to release him.

“It’s about Y/N.” George’s attention was now fully on him.

“What about her?”

“She has been taken.”  he replies in a flat tone.

George can only hear his heartbeat. It had increased to an unhealthy pace and he cannot breathe.

“Who!?” Lee is taken aback at the sudden raise in his voice and does;t answer.

George advances and grabs the man’s shoulders.

“Who took her!?”

“Th-the B-british?” He sputters out.

George misses the phrase being formed as a question and runs towards the horses.

His men try to stop him and Lafayette has even tried to get him to dismount the horse.

“She is my love. I am going to get her.”

“I understand, sir. But this is not the best way. We can send some men to investigate and…” The General cuts him off.

“No, I am going to get my love, no one else.” He rides off without another word.

When he finally arrives at home a day later, it is empty.

His heart stops when he finds his latest letter crumpled in a corner and in their bedroom the necklace he made for her was carelessly thrown near the legs of the dresser.

He hurries back downstairs to search for anything else that may help him. Everything seemed to have been recently used and even a pot in the kitchen was left unwashed. She had just been here.

He takes a moment to to grasp the wall and let out a long sob. She had been taken.

Who would take her? The British didn’t know his home address. No one did, only Alexander. But he wouldn’t have had anything to do with this, he knew this for a fact. Alexander held him in the highest regard as he did in return to the expressive right hand man.

He was going out of his mind.

The last thing he had said to her was how upset he was. He was sure he didn’t even say “I love you” in the letter at all.

If he had been taken because he was a general he would get her back and quit. Country be damned.

He prayed she was alright. Whoever had her better be treating her fine because when he finds her, if she has been harmed in anyway, the kidnapper would be begging for death.

He runs back out of the home and to the horse. He wonders if he should tell her parents. They had a right know just as much as he did. They loved her endlessly too.

He decided to ride for their home.


It had been two days since you had been home and even though it was a relief to be around family, you missed all the George influences that you had around every corner.

You were sitting in the living room and there is a frantic knock at the door. You went to stand but see your mother has gone to answer it herself, so you snuggle back into your book reading position.

The door opens and you can hear someone huffing, out of breath and slightly yelling. Whoever it was was wildly out of sorts. Your mother’s reply is quick and reassuring.

Then the door is closed and footsteps are nearing.

When you glance up from your book, George is in front of you.

He dissolved look almost make you laugh. He has lost his General hat, his coat is frayed and caked with dirt, and his face is a mess of tears and snot.

You give him a confused look.

“George? George! Are you alright?” You jump up and drop the book losing your place and the blanket falls off of you.

He smiles through the tears and sniffs loudly before coming to right next to you and grabbing the back of your head into a hard, desperate hug.

“What’s wrong? What are you doing here?” He doesn’t speak, only continues to hold you. New tears hit your shoulder.

“I thought you were gone.” He mumbles into your hair.

“Gone? I left the house only a few days ago.” He laughs and moves to take your face in his hands.

He strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“Someone told me you had been kidnapped. When I arrived home it seemed as if it were true. You were not there and your necklace was on the ground and I- I didn’t know what to do.”

He chokes on his words and you grab his hand from your face.

“You thought I had been taken so you completely abandoned the war and came to find me?” He nods and you can’t help but kiss him multiple times.

“You are sure you are ok? Why are you here at your parents’ home?” He was suddenly concerned yet again.

“I just needed to be around some other people. I wasn’t thinking when I left, I was upset. I’m sorry about the necklace.”

He just shakes his head.

“No I’m sorry the last letter was..less than perfect. I’m just so glad you are alright.”

He takes a seat on the couch with you before explaining more about the situation.

He fumes when he mentions Charles Lee, the man that had caused the frustration in the previous battle, was the one who had told him you had been taken.

George goes into a long rant of how he was going to talk to Lee privately about lying to a man about his wife but before he can get completely heated you steal his lips mid-sentence.

“I’m so glad I get to see you.” You say after pulling away.

He smiles and grabs your hand in his.

“I’ll stay for a few more days. Lee can wait.”

You chuckle and bring him in for a longer kiss.

After all, you would take every moment you had him because you never knew when it could be the last.


(A/N: We are SO sorry it has been quiet on here. I am still not well and we are both full time college students which takes up a lot of time. Thank you to everyone following us! We love you!)