emotions scrapbook (returned)

When you're gone, I stumble and fall. I'm told you don't wanna stay around – those trains call…

If Captain Harkness is Torchwood’s elephant in the room – larger than life, immortal, and as noticeable by his absence as his presence – then Ianto is the elephant’s shadow, dark and silent and hardly more than empty space. The ghost lurking in Gwen’s eyes.

All I know
is that “thank you” should appear
somewhere.

So, just in case
I can’t find
the perfect place–
“Thank you, thank you.”

What do you want me to say? That you were almost hurt and it would have been my fault? Because that’s true.
You sound quite certain of what I mean to demand for someone who hasn’t talked to me in two weeks. What part am I meant to play in this? I’m afraid I did not receive my script.

I am so sorry for working so hard to protect the wrong things, for failing to see that there is nothing important that does not include you.

I would never stoop so low as to attempt to be fashionable.

She can't help but feel as though she's failed him somehow by not producing Jack from thin air to care for him.

You need a consuming project that doesn’t involve dumping out the best parts of yourself for someone who’s using you as an emotional confidant but refuses to be in your life. Engaging in that kind of relationship isn’t just a dead-end, it makes you weaker.

There’s no problem so awful that you can’t add some guilt to it and make it even worse.

Let's drive out to where dust devils are made by dancing ghosts as they kick up clouds of sand. Where clouds look like mountains, clouds look like mountains – let me watch those mountains from underneath, and maybe they'll finally float off of me…

I think that you should take him out one day after work and tell him how you feel. It could be that he has feelings for you too.
Feelings, no, that’s… we’re just work friends, so that’s…

I was moved by what you’d written to me. And honored that you’d revealed so much of yourself – the pain of returning to a destroyed home and what that brought up from your past. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy thing to do.

In the right hand it is the tool of creation. In most hands it is authority and priestcap feasts.

Can we not simply take a moment to enjoy the view together? Or would you rather I spied on you from the shadows?
I will suffer your company if I must, but not your commentary.

But my first battle, I made a choice. I wasn’t going to kill for them. So I ran.

Welcome to Night Vale is an anti-Prairie Home Companion. Both feature dispatches from a small town full of teasing celebrations of community, but one trades in horror conventions, the other in comedy; one has a diverse cast of characters, the other is perhaps definitively white.

The hawk of the hills, the perfect killer, easily outflies the clattering dove. She dips away, but he follows, he ripples, he hangs his black hooks over her, and snares her with a thin cry in praise of her softness.

Lisa was gone. And she had been for a very long time. He was free. And with that thought, Ianto dropped his head to his hands and began to cry, his betrayal of Lisa now complete.

Meaningless! Who dare say it wasn't meaningless? Shout from the rooftops and address the press! Ha ha ha, it was totally meaningless!

Though I am proficient in many tongues, I cannot claim to be as well versed in the parlance of the younger generation. Their predilections and inclinations are a mystery I have yet to unravel.

The pounds of flesh between us stretch as far as you can see.

Like hawkwings cut through a sheet of starlings – like wing-scissors open and close through a billow of jackdaws –

I think the ground is pulling me down. I think my life is losing momentum.

Real magic can never be made by offering up someone else’s liver. You must tear out your own, and not expect to get it back. The true witches know that.

That was the winter of senior year. Then in the spring something happened to me. Yes, I remember. I fell in love with James Tyrone and was so happy for a time.

(She stares before her in a sad dream. Tyrone stirs in his chair. Edmund and Jamie remain motionless.)

(Curtain.)

He turned. There really was something blindingly handsome about him. His hair maybe. Or his demeanor. People are beautiful when they do beautiful things. Perhaps he had spent most of his life doing beautiful things and it had really stuck.

No, wait. Did you think I would care to live when you were dead? That is the first thing I reproach you with.
What obligation rests on you to die with me?
Do you ask? What is life worth when I have lost my friend?

Because you just can’t do things your body wasn’t meant to.

As the little boy grew, uglily upward and out, he began to understand that something was wrong. His little ways of trying to please his father – bringing matches, jumping aside at the warning sound of oh-so-large stride, the smile that gave and gave and gave – unsuccessful!

Every new day every new sunrise all I get is more proof that I’ll never be more than what I am right now and I don’t even like what I am –