#nottxbe

[traitorveined-blog]

❝ i think deep down , we’re all capable of unspeakable things. ❞

criminal minds sentence starters || @nottxbe

❝ I suppose you’re right, ❞ he glanced down, placing a thoughtful hand on his chin, ❝ but that statement alone isn’t enough to excuse one’s actions. ❞

[glacierfront-a]

nottxbe started following you! :’)

      [11:01AM] ok the flight is leaving ill mssg u when the wifi is turned on

      [11:20AM] thats really weird tbh like... im not used to planes having wifi

      [11:20AM] now its on like every flight

[glacierfront-a]

“You got a hold on me.”

     It’s something in the way he looks at her, maybe, in the open blue of his eyes, that gives her pause. She hesitates, for a split second, and glances away.

     “Hamlet,” she hedges, heartbeat picking up speed. Seconds pass, ones that he could easily fill -- but he knows her too well to do that, and so she ruminates on her thoughts for every single ticking beat. Her hands, suddenly trembling, fiddle at the drawstring of her sweater.

      When the silence seems too much and she has gathered her nerves, she takes a deep breath, braces herself to ask a question that she might already know the answer to, and meets his eyes. 

     “Do you like me?”

[prettyfoolea-blog]

@nottxbe  .

     juliet tugs hamlet’s  much taller frame  down towards her,  insistent and   eager   until she can press an  affectionate  kiss to hamlet’s cheek with a   giggle   .

[glacierfront-a]

“I know you don’t feel the same way.”

      She doesn’t.

      And it’s not fair, is it, for Hamlet to love her -- and for her only to be able to reciprocate the most shallow of affections? Hamlet deserves everything that she can give him, but he also deserves more. And it’s not fair that he wouldn’t get that, if -- if...

      But the thing is -- she thinks about a relationship with Hamlet and suddenly it’s the only way she sees her life in the future. She sees fancy gowns, bickering over what food is or is not delicious, pushing each other into snow drifts just for the laugh, sitting shoulder to shoulder and feeling safe enough to take a nap. And a keen longing fills the inside of her chest, something sweet and yet oh so bitter.

      Hamlet deserves roses, and little impromptu kisses, romantic dates with rose petals and candles, Valentines days with cuddles and -- and -- everything she doesn’t have, everything he could find in anybody else, and not her -- he deserves someone romantic, because he’s romantic, and she just. She doesn’t fit the bill, does she?

      Somewhere she started crying, in that sort of quiet way she has, one tear rolling down her cheek, and then another. Her hand, clenched in a fist, unfolds to wipe them away. When their gazes meet for a flickering second, her lips twitch into a fake smile.

       The silence drags on.

        Finally, her voice is barely there, dipping into whispers. “But I. Don’t want you to -- miss out on anything.”

[glacierfront-a]

@nottxbe

      There isn’t rally very much as relaxing as lounging around in a room with Hamlet for the afternoon. “What’s your favourite colour?”