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“ What had he said to me that first day? Something about natural chemistry. He claimed he’d noticed it right from the start, and maybe it was an explanation, of sorts, of why we kept coming together, again and again. ”

—    This Lullaby (Sarah Dessen)

(Source: wordsthat-speak, via introv-erted)

“ Travelling is a brutality. It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all that familiar comfort of home and friends. You are constantly off balance. Nothing is yours except the essential things — air, sleep, dreams, the sea, the sky — all things tending towards the eternal or what we imagine of it. ”

—    Cesare Pavese (via darkinterludes)


I see you everywhere. A certain height, teflon hips shifting in the walk, a hooded visage barely glimpsed in the corner of one feline-kohl-eye. Skin ravaged by ink, tress-shorn like Sampson. A rough expression, belying the tender way you long for me.

I’ll probably regret this… but fuck it.


I love you… in no uncertain terms. I love you in ways that almost make me hate myself. Unconditionally and unwisely. Non-ironically and unabashed. I will love you until I return to ash and startdust. I will love you until the end of this world and the start of the next. I love you forever and always… I just can’t say it out loud when I’m sober and trying to play it so fucking cool that my heart is starting to feel frozen and dead. 

Oh, Noelle.

Capes: You always hurt the ones you loathe


“Give me two, Charlie,” I said, taking my familiar spot at the bar.

The room buzzed. It was a Friday night. 2 a.m. All the regulars were there. Some had flown in from other dimensions and distant planets. Fiesta Joe’s was the place to be on a Friday night. Everyone knew that. If you were a Cape, you were here.

“How’s it go, Brad?” I asked the portly guy in the blue spandex beside me. He did not look like much – at least 40 pounds overweight – but he could still lift a truck over his head. He was an old timer. He’d started in the super hero racket before I was born. And, trust me, I wasn’t that young, either. Or maybe I was? Something about this job, it ages you and keeps you young at the same time. You forget what fucking year it is, until you look around, and everyone you know without a super power is old and tired and … sad.

“It goes good Stephen, how you?”

I grunted a happy grunt. It’d been a good day. I flew to France. Saved a bus full of kids. Then I ran to Germany and stopped Captain Cold. He was not a main nemesis but one of my B squad. All heroes had top bad guys and sub bad guys. Cold was a sub sub. Good kid – if you could overlook his homicidal tendencies – but not ready for the big leagues yet.

“You save anyone today?” I asked, being polite. Brad didn’t save too many people these days. He had earned his seat at the bar, and he clung to the honor.

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