#soncoul

Bold what applies to your muse most, italicize what applies somewhat or in certain verses, regular text what rarely applies, strikethrough what never applies.

Tagged by: @whiskeyandtwoshotglasses 

Tagging:  @assistantdirectorhill @assholc @whydoyouthinkileft @soncoul @seiismic @melinda-q-may

[  D E F E N S I V E N E S S  ]

arms crossed on chest || crossing legs || fist-like gestures || pointing index finger || karate chops || stiffening of shoulders || tense posture || curling of lip/baring of teeth

[  R E F L E C T I V E  ]

hand-to-face gestures || head tilted || stroking chin || peering over glasses || taking glasses off — cleaning || putting earpiece of glasses in mouth || pipe smoker gestures || putting hand to bridge of nose || pursed lips, knitted brows

[  S U S P I C I O N  ]

arms crossed || sideways glance || touching or rubbing nose || rubbing eyes || hands resting on weapon || brows raising || lips pressing into a thin line || strict, unwavering eye contact || wrinkling of nose

[  O P E N N E S S  &  C O O P E R A T I O N  ]

open hands || upper body in sprinters position || sitting on edge of chair || hand-to-face gestures || unbuttoned coat || tilted head || slacked shoulders, droopy posture || feet pointed outward || palms flat and facing outward || hands on hips

[  C O N F I D E N C E  ]

hands behind back || hands on lapels of coat || steepled hands || baring teeth in a grin || rolling shoulders || tipping head back but maintaining eye contact || chest puffed up/shoulders back || arms folded just above navel

[  I N S E C U R I T Y  &  A N X I E T Y  ]

chewing pen or pencil || rubbing thumb over opposite thumb || biting fingernails || hands in pockets || elbow bent/closed gestures || clearing throat || “whew” sound || picking or pinching flesh || fidgeting in chair || hand covering mouth whilst speaking || poor eye contact || tugging at pants whilst seated || jingling money in pockets || tugging at ear || perspiring hands || playing with hair || swaying || playing with pointer/marker || smacking lips || sighing || rocking on balls of feet || flexing fingers sporadically

[  F R U S T R A T I O N  ]

               ❛ Why did Phil cross the road? To get to the Captain America merch on the other side.  ❜

I would say at some point people are responsible for themselves and that they’re limits as to how much a parent is or should be a parent. Parents aren’t there to pamper someone so much they wouldn’t know how to iron socks. Maybe that’s my culture but over here that’s something we learn by ourselves

“But I did a pretty damn good job!”

It had been six weeks. Or in other words, 42 days, three hours and twenty-four minutes since she had first heard about Phil.

She had tried to run the team while he was gone. As well as she possibly could. Sometimes she was distracted; dropped something, missed an open spot on the plan, forgot to send everyone through medical. Everyone had this annoying sense of patience with her, though. As if they were afraid to say something mean, knew why she wasn’t with it in her mind.

It had been 42 days spent by his side. Talking to him, briefing him on the team and every new mission, threatening to drink her good scotch without him, watching the nurses rub oils into his skin and hair, cut his nails. She’d slept in the chair, lain beside him and watched him in the hope that he would open his eyes, spent day after day wide awake, but she was tired of waiting. She missed him.

Climbing into the wide hospital bed, swallowing the black hole that was eating her up from inside, she curled against his side. One leg resting entangled between his, her arm stretched across her abdomen, her cheek leaning against his chest. She let out a shaky breath, a tear escaped her eye and travelled over the bridge of her nose and down to his chest.

“Please, Phil. Just wake up. I waited so long, and I can’t lose you again. I was so stupid —“ She choked on a sob and had to pause, sniffling and letting her fingers curl tightly in the sheet, pressing against him. He had mostly healed, but wouldn’t wake up. “Please. If you die now, I will never have told you how much I love you. How many times I’ve dreamt that you would kiss me, wanted to lean in and hold you just to feel your touch...” She screamed into his chest, the muscle and the sheets swallowing most of the sounds. “Don’t leave.”

•|•|•|•

It was another two weeks later, and the day before Christmas. She had sneaked in after visiting hours, knowing she would be alone, and got to work decorating. A tiny Christmas tree on the bedside table, glitter in the windows, Christmas lights on the bed frame. Taking his hand, she stroke peppermint-scented lotion into the skin, keeping them moist and smelling like Christmas. She watched him, a smile on her lips but a sorrow in her eyes. “Merry Christmas, Phil.” Leaning down to kiss his cheekbone, she closed her eyes for a minute, and then left undetected.