"C'est la fille qui rêve de la lune et des étoiles mais dont les jambes n'ont pas encore quitté le sol"

Current addictions:
Orphan Black
Grey's Anatomy
Aug 2014
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Have a great weekend, Tumblr. 

Aug 2014
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Aug 2014

The worst thing about parting is not about parting but about not knowing when you will see that person again.

I say, A bientôt instead of Au revoir.
Because it’s my wish, it’s my hope that we will meet again.

But mon chéri , is it demain? Is it deux jour, un semaine, un mois, six mois, un an ou jamais?

Je ne sais pas

Aug 2014

It is one long and hard lesson to start seeing people as people and not just objects to love and to be loved by.

Aug 2014
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pen pals with benefits

Is this some kind of joke

Aug 2014
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There’s time we can waste
and there’s time we must treasure,
please have both with me.-Daily Haiku on Love by Tyler Knott Gregson (via tylerknott)

Aug 2014
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I feel nothing
I feel everything.
I don’t know which is worse.-2 am thoughts (via timid)

Aug 2014

I think it was on Wednesday when we were hiking up the Devil’s Peak and I was talking about “how if you tie your shoelaces at Paris, your girlfriend would cry” issue and he just went: People always think France and Paris is all so romantic and all but actually there’s so much other things to it.

Aug 2014
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Handwritten by whitepaperquotes contributor Ritika 

Aug 2014
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Avengers AU | 1920’s

There’s a cigarette dangling from his lips as fingers, long and elegant, strike alight a flame. “You don’t scare me by throwing around threats in public.” Loki turns his head, eyes distinctly unimpressed as he meets Tony’s gaze.

“Oh, I’m already thrilled you understand what a threat is.” Tony flashes a smile, painfully insincere. He rests his chin on the arm propped up on the table. “But I’m not just throwing them around so carelessly.”

Loki exhales slowly, smoke curling from his mouth, and holds the cigarette delicately between his forefingers. He leans back in his chair and tilts his head slightly to the side with feigned interest. “And what have I to fear?” Loki smiles wide with teeth so white. “The man with a dying heart?”

That’s enough to seize Tony’s breath for the briefest of seconds, before he notices the satisfied smirk on Loki’s face. “Oh you’re good,” Tony concedes. “But ah, no, I don’t mean you.” He waves his other hand vaguely in the direction over his shoulder. “Your brute over there—Hulk, was it?”

“His twin brother,” Loki murmurs and leisurely takes another drag. “He is a friend of yours, is he not?”

Tony arches one brow, fingers tapping an incessant beat on his cheek.

“A Dr. Banner? I do not believe he will appreciate the Lady Widow’s actions.” Loki flicks his cigarette lightly and ash breaks away from the burning tip.

“Touché.” Tony leans forward, both elbows on the table, and steals the fag from unresisting fingers. It’s held between his thumb and index when he brings it to his lips. He breathes in deep, long and slow; he exhales a circle, a ring that breaks apart in Loki’s face, whose eyes are narrowed flints of jade.

Loki does not so much as blink as the smoke drifts, clears. An impressive feat indeed, Tony admires.

“Except, I don’t recall there being love lost between them. Huh.” Tony stubs the cigarette out in the metal dish. “Let’s stop punching the bag, shall we?

Tony reclines back into the cushioned chair, fingers on the armrests tapping a toneless rhythm.

“Now, I don’t know how it is in England, but here? I run the show.”