Thiehf.

thiehf​.

[…]

While Bela had kept a usually compartmentalized view on business and pleasure, there were always going to be exceptions. The lines bleed out eventually, and sooner or later the price comes calling. The moonstone had been kept in a particularly unique hiding place for weeks now, but there was an odd occurrence of feeling more secure whenever she kept it on her person. Foolish, if anything, but she couldn’t help but be overcome with possessiveness when trailing her fingers along the polished milky-coloured stone whenever she opened her velvet clutch. There was another inside the women’s restroom at the bar who had unknowingly seen something that others would simply die to have. She must play this very carefully, bring no unwanted attention towards the thief and her loot. ‘This little thing? A gift-shop trinket.’ A hummed out reply, the lie tumbling from her mouth like silk and sweetened only by the feigned sheepish smile gathering along her lips now. ‘I could get you one of your own, darling[…]it’d be no trouble at all.’

she finds things sometimes :     without meaning to ,     wanting to .    her feet seems to travel an endless road that always leads to lost things  .     of course ,    those beady eyes never know what to search for ,    why some things seem so eager to be uncovered and others seek shelter in the shadows of abandonment .    it’s confusing  -----   and she doesn’t think much of it then because it’s so easy to be enthralled by the way bela carries herself ,      how easily a room will accommodate her ,   as if it were her own  .     “   a trinket?    "    her head lolls into the crook of her neck ,       for a split-second ---     she glances over to the empty space near bela’s shoulder.      “    i know ,    it looks so ...    ”   a beat .   her gaze flutters perfectly poised woman :    ankles of steel and spine straight as an arrow ,    the way her honeyed tongue seems to warp words into fitting her narrative -  she’s like those femme fatales on late-night tv ,     spit straight from a black-and-white noir film .      “      oh .    i mean ----    i’d really like that .    if ...   you’re sure .      ”

cohmpton​.

[…]

It shouldn’t have any sentimental value for him, but it belonged to a dear friend of his. Lost in the war like all good men. The trenches swallowed them all up and refused to release any parts of their souls to the earth. The pocket watch is snapped shut, the faint ticking of it still echoing in his eardrums. ‘I’m lookin’ after it for a friend.’ A murmured response before he takes a step to the side to allow other event-goers to pass by them. ‘I’m afraid he’d be less than impressed if I were to lend it to anyone else, ma’am.’

she immediately recoils ,    as if struck by a sudden realization .   this strange coldness ensues - a breath of wind nipping at her neck ,   almost like it wants to whisper words in her ear.    this room is full of tragedy ,    and he’s no exception .      “   so you’re like its guardian ---- i get it now !     you’re right ,     you should keep it close .     "      there’s a veil of twinkling moroseness behind the serenity of her eyes .    “    your friend’s lucky to have you .    ”

closed starter for :  @alpha-as-hale​​​

she feels every affliction of her hummingbird heart ,    trashing violently and ceaselessly against its bony cell ,    seeking a way out of confinement .    she feels utterly helpless there :     down on the floor ,     red knees aching  &  scrapped from the fall ,     palms splayed against the floor to hold her torso upright ,    and eyes impossibly wide with fright .   “     ----    stop,  stop !    "     her demands sound more like pleas through labored breaths that flow in rapid succession .     “    d-don’t     come any closer -    ”    

Ted Lasso 

S1E01 | Pilot

closed starter for :  @moonaed​​​​

"   i can’t tell anymore ...   what’s real and what’s -    “      even now ,    in the sanctuary of his company :    all she can see two tall shadows looming above him ,    talons like smoke wrapped right around his shoulder ,      the embers of their eyes forever burning .     “  i think i’m losing my mind ,   ”      pandora stifles a guilt-ridden sob ,  averting her teary gaze down to the dirt-stomped ground  .    “     do you have to go?   ”   touch laced to desperation ,   her dainty hands clutch to his forearm with unusual ferocity ,     clawing at the piece of fabric that coils between the gaps of her fingers .      “    don’t go .     you’ll get hurt ...    please .    “

THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE — 1.02, Open Casket