my boyfriend is a doctor

“It’s not worth it.” Shove phone and hands into pockets. Knuckles wrinkle pink.

I pretend I am brave when really I am writing and deleting a snapchat that would have been “a bit much”. You pretend you’re relaxed when really the back of your eyes has a hunger that never stops its ache.

I ask you what’s up, you say, “In space there is no such thing as up.” I say that our current orientation would suggest, you interrupt, “The sun,” I say, ha ha, very funny.

You say, “Do you hear that?” Put a hand on the train rail. “It’s humming.” I say so let’s get out of the way, you say, “Hang on.” I say okay but my mom will be mad at you if I die and I can’t make it home in time to defrost the chicken. You stare at the place the train is supposed to be coming. 

“It’s always like this.” You’re shaking. I don’t ask for clarification. Look at you out of the side of my eye, just in case you take flight. You live from a pressed space. Calling a crack in the door a freedom, all strung like a harp, ready to be used but resenting the fingers. God forbid you slip. There’s nowhere for you to fall in your house. Never knew a bed that wasn’t made in bile. Got used to high prices.

I say. If we get hit by a train do you think we still have to take finals. 

You say: “I’m exhausted.” 

It comes out all soft. Half lost between us and the wind and something coming. What dies in my throat comes scrambled in thoughts. Try not to let you slip when it’s one of the only times you’ve been actually honest. I want to tell you about the day I woke up and apples tasted different. About how I don’t know the last time I laughed and actually meant it. 

I want to say I believe in a better sky. A wrist that turns up and the path of my blood that only looks like branches. A nest I can build out of soft words and silky hair. Use my own teeth to grind down the gravestones and call that interior decorated. I want to say that you’re allowed to collapse. That not all barbed wire needs to be crafted into cocoons. That we can take what is shaping us and shape it back, turn a spear into a sparrow and say we forgive hollow for the weight it hands us. I want to say I’ve been thrown out of the back of a car too and I know the road you’re on by the very skin of me, but I also know: when I was six I thought I could speak to trees. Sometimes when it’s sunny and I tilt my head back, you know. You know. I still feel warm.

I want to say it’s worth it for the six year old in us. Or the sixty year old. Or for being sixteen and actually laughing. You ever taste a dorito with peanut butter? So that’s that then. Something worth looking forward to. And when you finish that, come back. I want you to try to jump out of your own shadow. Or learn to ice skate. Or finish the book you’re writing. Forget about good enough. Forget about forcing it. Forget about worth. The worth is just you, and your tastebuds, and magnets, and new colors, and finding grasshoppers, and radio stations. When you’re done with it all, come back. I have more. A whole earth.

But what do I say. You’re tilted so close to the edge that a wing and a wound feel the same.

Here are some very positive canon facts about Solas from the game, pulled from the top of my head. Feel free to add more! 

When meeting Mother Giselle in the Hinterlands, Solas can be seen while using the flycam assisting some of the villagers hurt in the mage/templar conflict that occurred there.

Cut dialogue of Solas calming the Inquisitor of a panic attack after the events at Therinfall Redoubt

Solas comforts Cole, Blackwall and Iron Bull with their trauma in their banters. 

During a banter with Iron Bull, Solas expresses distaste at killing their enemies and remembers that each individual has a history and family.

When finding the dead Inquisition soldiers at the Storm Coast, Solas will say in a regretful voice that their families will need to be informed. 

He wonders how Qunari get their shirts on 

He is respectful of the idea of the Maker, and admires the idea of a God that doesn’t interfere with its people (Cassandra banter)

He coughs while in the Hissing Wastes and very politely excuses himself.

He chuckle snorts 

There is some mythical ambient conversation that I have never gotten from Josephine that involves Solas being unshakably polite after a noble throws a glass of wine at him. 

and TNEPRES, who is thin and venomous, born of old magic; a King Cobra, stretched and boiled in a traitors blood, baked in the forges beneath the sands, and left under a burnish bush in a cool cave for three months, is cut lengthwise. In his stomach a sick and bloody sword will be presented before you; thin and venomous.

the third, who is named ECNANEP, who my mother begged me not to take from my forebearers grave, who cleaves flesh and bone and armor, through enchantment and godly protection, who makes me bleed and be wounded as I rage. For only then, when I crave blood, does she come to me, heavy bladed and leather handled.

the fourth, who is simple and not adorned with name or jewel or special blade. Because the sword can only be as mighty as the man behind her; and this blade has claimed many more than my rest, and her I trust the most.

GORGON, the fifth, shines bright, bejeweled, golden and princely, and sharp like a Kings razor, to most eyes. But to me I cannot clean the rust off his back, nor can I sharpen him, nor bring myself to kill with his aging blade. For he teaches my humbleness, and was bequeathed by the Corner Gods, and he is my father and my mother and my friend and my enemy.

Dear nina-eagles, how about as TRC quotes instead? Good yes great. I’m glad you agree.

Aries: “There wasn’t much Gansey didn’t like about flying. He liked airports, with their masses of people all doing things, and he liked planes, with their thick-paned windows and fold-out trays. The way that a jet charged down the runway reminded him of how the Camaro pressed him back in the driver’s seat when he hit the gas. The whine of a helicopter sounded like productivity.”

Taurus: “The mess was taking years from her life. Calla liked things you could rely on: filing systems, months with thirty-one days, purple lipstick.”

Gemini: “From the deck of the boat, Orla said, ‘I’m having a psychic moment. It involves you and me.’ “

Cancer: “Persephone pointed a finger straight in the air and said, ‘I forgot about my pie crust.’ She withdrew from the room.”

Leo: “He lowered his hand, and he said ‘Wake up.’ He said it like he had said stop earlier. He said it in a voice Adam had heard countless times, a voice he could never not listen to.”

Virgo: “ ‘I told you. I told you it was a bad idea, and nobody ever listens to me. “Oh, we’ll be fine, Noah, you’re such a worrywart” and next thing you know you’re in some kind of death thrall. Nobody ever says, “Noah, you know what you were right thanks for saving my life because being dead would suck.” ‘

Libra: “Noah had wandered down the aisle, but now he gleefully returned with a snow globe. He stood behind Ronan until he pushed off the shelf to admire the atrocity. A seasonally decorated palm tree and two faceless sunbathers were trapped inside, along with a painted, erroneous statement: IT’S ALWAYS CHRISTMAS SOMEWHERE. ‘Glitter,’ whispered Noah reverentially, giving it a shake.”

Scorpio: “The inside of the old Camaro smelled like asphalt and desire, gasoline and dreams. Ronan sat behind the wheels, eyes on the midnight street. Streetlights fenced the asphalt, slashing reflections over the atomic orange hood. On either side of the road, the barren lots of car dealerships sprawled, eerie and silent. He was hungry as the night.”

Sagittarius: “More than anything, the journal wanted. It wanted more than it could hold, more than words could describe, more than diagrams could illustrate. Longing burst from the pages, in every frantic line and every hectic sketch and every dark-printed definition. There was something pained and melancholy about it.”

Capricorn: “Blue fixed a penetrating gaze on him. ‘So, do you have a favorite weapon?’ Without missing a beat, he replied, ‘Opportunity.’”

Aquarius: “You were different before,” Persephone replied. “But now they won’t be able to stop noticing.”

But its cute that he doesnt have any

Waiter: okay

Volta: Wait, I worry what you just heard was give me a lot of bacon and eggs, what I said was give me ALL the bacon and eggs you have. Do you understand?

“The following is a list of people who can suck it. Number One: The Joker. I don’t think I need to explain that one. Number Two: Cluemaster. Fuck you, you stole my bit, and I will be like a plague unto your house. Number Three: King Tut. You also stole my bit, but did it while killing people and got me arrested for murder. Also, I’m, like, 93% sure you’re a white guy and your costume is racist.

“Number Four: The Scarecrow. I know you ate my leftover Chinese, Jon, even though I wrote my name on it. I was saving that for lunch. I had to eat a goddamn peanut butter and jelly sandwich like a five-year-old. It was all you had in the hideout. For fuck’s sake, go shopping, not all of us can live like a bridge troll.

“Number Five: The Penguin. You- No, no, wait, wait… That one should be crossed out. He replaced that and apologized. Never mind, Oswald, you’re fine. Drinks at 7:00 tomorrow, right?

“Anyway, where was…? Ah, yes. Number Six: The Mad Hatter. You carded me and left me like that for six hours because I, and I quote, ‘would not stop talking about Mythbusters.’ Well, excuse me for trying to make intellectually stimulating conversation on a level you could understand. I suppose every time you prattle on about mome raths and borogoves it’s goddamn Shakespeare? Well… Well, it’s Carroll, but… Oh, you know what I mean!

“Number Seven: Catwoman. You left me hanging by one hand from a ledge five stories up and holding a twenty-pound bag of jewels and very pointy  objets d'art while you ‘distracted’ the Dark Knight. I know you were making out with him, Selina. You were gone for fifteen minutes. My shoulder almost dislocated. Very unprofessional.

“Number Eight: Kite Man.”

Here the Riddler pauses, lifting his narrowed gaze to glare at the camera, voice dropping to an ominous tone.

“You know what you did…”

His demeanor shifts quickly, and he’s back to reading from his list almost cheerfully.

“Number Nine! Th-”

He’s interrupted by a crashing noise in the background and looks over his shoulder just an instant before a deep voice angrily growls, “Riddler!”

“Oh, for the love of-” He turns to glare at the camera, speaking quickly. “Number Nine: Batman! Interrupting me while I’m on television making very important- Hm-mmph!”

Batman: Riddler, you’ve hijacked the TV airwaves and you know that’s wrong but I think this is actually theraputic. So I’m giving you five minutes, and then I’m taking you to Arkham

This starts a dialogue with a number of other youtube users who both attempt to answer his riddles and pose their own riddles in return.