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“Ah!” she laughs, and covers her mouth with her hand to hide her smile - it’s, well, it’s a little bit embarrassing, that thought, but for some reason it makes her stomach twist in a nice way. “Poor you. It is good to have family, though. I am sure she would not be so silly as to assume you would wish such things with me, do not worry.”

Reaching out, she squeezes his elbow, offering him an awkward little grin. “Shall we proceed to your humiliation?”

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This is what’s so terrifying about being lonely: the instinctive sense that it is literally repulsive, inhibiting contact at just the moment contact is most required.

Olivia Laing, from The Lonely City: Adventures in the Art of Being Alone (via lifeinpoetry)

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Anonymous: May I request a Power who misses glory and having someone to fight for?

absolutely! hope you like it!

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“I am quite sure that if you are hit with a spoon, you deserve it,” she says primly, but her eyes dance with mischief. She is utterly willing to betray him, and it shows. 

Taking his hand, Kayle stands, fingers warm in his palm. Tilting her head at him, she smiles - it seemed she’d made a good choice, after all, and she’s quietly delighted. 

(She wants to know everything about him, but she can’t explain why.)

“Please. That sounds truly lovely - especially since there is so much of Runeterran culture I have yet to encounter. I enjoy learning. Although I am obligated to ask why this Miriam shall accost us...?”

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Her ailment could not be seen in any microscope; it was a mild but ever-deepening tiredness, a dim weighing of her sparrow body; sleepy, sleepier, sleepiest.

Ray Bradbury, from Dandelion Wine (via luthienne)

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Clearly the world has never / offered itself to her; / it has taken and taken until she became / empty and sealed.

Lisel Mueller, from Waving from Shore: Poems; “Aphasia” (via luthienne)

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“Show me your favorite secret places?” she asks, and sticks out her lip at him, just the tiniest pout. It looks rather silly on her; such a stern and weary face was never meant to be childish. 

(And wasn’t that a little bit sad?)

“I would like to see your bakery. And your libraries, if I am allowed. And whatever else you are willing to share. There is - power, in these things. The connections between people and places. I would like to know you.”

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Meiodia

©Penabranca 

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ancient greek adjectives about fate

αἴσιμος (aisimos) appointed by the will of the gods, destined

δύσμορος (dusmoros) ill-fated

ἐξαίσιος (exaisios) beyond what is ordained or fated

θεόμορος (theomoros) destined by the gods, imparted by them

κακόποτμος (kakopotmos) ill-fated, ill-starred

μοιρίδιος (moiridios) destined, doomed

μοιρόκραντος (moirokrantos) ordained by destiny, fated

μόρσιμος (morsimos) appointed by fate, destined

πρόμοιρος (promoiros) before the destined term, i.e. untimely, of death, of persons, doomed to untimely death

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“Oh?” She has to admit she is surprised; his station doesn’t seem to allow much leisure, and certainly the recent events were unlikely to give him a chance to rest - ah, but no, everything would be just starting underway. It would take some time for new problems to arise. 

“I would like that very much, if you think you have the time,” she chuckles, and raises one pretty brow at him, stern and unyielding as ever. “That is, provided you do not require rest. You do run yourself ragged, Nasus, and I will not have it.”

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                                                              YOU’RE  A  FIGHTER                                                  ALL THE WAY DOWN TO YOUR CORE                                 AND   N O T H I N G    IN THE WORLD COULD   K I L L   YOU

            ( ( (   EXCEPT TO KNOW THAT EVERYTHING YOU’RE FIGHTING FOR IS WRONG   ) ) )

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via

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“Quite right,” she smirks, and takes another decisive bite of bread, crinkling up her nose at him in lofty spite. “It sounds like a most terrible ordeal. You ought to fear that encounter, particularly in the early morning.”

She opens her mouth to scold him again, but is cut off but the knock, waving her hand in cheerful dismissal of his silent apology to go answer their mystery visitor. Staying in place, she extends one wing, nimble fingers running through to straighten crooked feathers, smoothing everything back into place. 

“Go on, then. I hope it is nothing too taxing.”

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Clip my feathers

Cage me away

                                      I WILL STILL SOAR

              ———- and I’d love to see you try to stop me

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“That is quite right,” she declares, stuffing her mouth haughtily. “You would have to undergo an entirely separate trip. A most fitting punishment, yes?”

Grinning at him, a little bit lopsided and a little bit silly, she hums, clearly satisfied. Stepping close, she hugs him, a tight little squeeze before letting go - awkward, but well-meant all the same. “I am glad to hear it. I am sure you will never be a disappointment.”

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…she felt like a leaf. Along came Life like a wind and she was seized and shaken; she had to go. Oh dear, would it always be so? Was there no escape?

Katherine Mansfield, from Stories by Katherine Mansfield; “At the Bay” (via luthienne)

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“You can and you shall,” she tells him rather primly, wielding the remaining bun in her hand in what actually manages to be a vaguely threatening manner, somehow. “Or else I shall eat all of your bread, and we both know we do not want that.”   

With a little hmph, she crosses her arms, obviously not placated. “You shall endure and prosper. I accept nothing less from a man like you.”

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