are they writing

I think I could remember your love in a thousand different ways. I always start with remembering you as pain. I always have that initial drop-gut feeling, where I remember sobbing into pillow sheets, sobbing into your old t-shirts, sobbing into the phone.

But after? I remember our love in light. I remember guilty teasing and lips that brushed and your hand in mine. I remember our love in the steady beat of your heart under my ear. Your shampoo smell in my clothes. I think the crinkles you get by your eyes when you smile are imprinted into the back of my brain. I remember our love as heat, as skimming fingertips and whispering “I love you"s into your throat and your palm and your mouth. I remember our love like as if it was tattooed into my skin.

I hope you remember our love in light. I hope you don’t remember me in drunken voicemails and angry words thrown at closed doors or in the taste of another girl’s mouth. I hope you remember me in light the way I remember you in sunshine. I know that I loved you with a fire in my heart that needed to announce its love to every inch of your skin, but maybe you’ve always been burned out.

—  You told me you’d remember us in all our best parts, and then you forgot to remember.
You always said you’d never hurt me. You said that was the last thing you’d ever want to do. But now I sit here in more pain than ever and wonder if you realize how much you’ve actually hurt me. I wonder if you really meant it when you said you’d never want to hurt me. I wonder if anything you said was the truth. Did you really think we had a future together? Did you really love me?
—  MS
He wanted to read my poetry yet when I tell him there’s much that needed to be said, he doesn’t ask to hear more. I want to show him the letters and poems I hide in my notebooks, for, they are braver than I will ever be, but he does not understand fear as he is always out to conquer them. He’s a paramedic, so all the blood he’s seen is red. I don’t think he will ever understand that I bleed black ink.
—  Stories I’ll tell one day #90 – Ming D. Liu 

“I love him. I’ve always known I loved him.”


“It’s like I get these butterflies around him. And they’re not the normal ones, the ones you get when you’re nervous. They are far more extreme. There are so many of them and they are so powerful that it feels as if they could just pick me up and carry me away. But they don’t. Because he keeps me grounded. That’s how I know it’s love. Because I know I would float away without him.”

—  Excerpt from a book I will never write #596

anonymous asked:

Do you Stucky-go-canon folks have any concept of marketing or economics? Do you realize that only a small part of a film's income comes from the US? Disney will never have a gay protagonist in any international film. It would lose the Russian, Chinese, African, Muslim, etc. markets. That'd be like cutting off at least 50% of their income. Not gonna happen. The best we can hope for is some subtext & queer coding & word-of-god interview confirmation.

Ok this got really intense and long winded so my response is under the cut.

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anonymous asked:

omg but what if aa tony hides the fact that his repulsor is a prosthetic and then he meets bucky who's also missing an arm and tony's like???? should i tell?? ????!?!!!? or alternatively tony and bucky making terrible jokes about how together they have one functioning set of arms

Okay in all honesty this is one of my favourite headcanons that I’ve ever gotten so I wrote you a lil blurb. 

Assume this is after Tony has told the other Avengers that he has a prosthetic arm. Bucky has recently transferred to the Academy.

Steve walks into the common room on a Saturday morning after his run and for a moment he thinks he’s still asleep, because he must be dreaming. 

Objectively, what he’s seeing is a normal image. Bucky and Tony are sitting on the old couch they all have crashed on at two am at one point or another, both of them wearing pyjama bottoms and t-shirts. Both of them have game controllers in hand, the two of them laughing hysterically at whatever is going on in the game they’re playing. Bucky has one hand flailing dramatically at Tony, as if he’s trying to cover his eyes. Tony is dodging these attempts and simultaneously keeping his eyes glued on the game, seeming completely unfazed. 

The weird thing about this, is that Bucky and Tony hate each other.

Or at least, Steve thought they did. 

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, confusion creeping into his voice. 

Neither of them pay much attention to him as he approaches. 

“Morning beloved,” Tony greets him, looking over at Steve with a bright smile on his face, his eyes sparkling happily. 

“Gross,” Bucky comments in a monotonous voice. 

“Can it, Terminator,” Tony tells Bucky. 

And here’s the real shocker; this doesn’t cause an argument. Instead, Bucky just grunts and continues playing. 

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Flowers growing in eggshells on my windowsill. Lemonade sunlight streaming in. A gray kitty I can name Alice. 

Saturdays I write grocery lists on newspaper margins. I drink tea with milk, honey, and two scoops of real sugar. Blueberry waffles are for Sundays. It’s never the frozen kind.

There’s a collection of glass figurines. The radio is always playing. I read books during bubble baths and call my mom on Mondays.

Christmas light cafes and Tuesday lunch dates. Almond croissants dreams under clouds shaped like umbrellas. 

Wednesdays are for falling in love. Thursday’s reserved for Grey’s Anatomy. Fridays take me on unexpected adventures.

It’s a love story and it isn’t.

—  A scribbler // Wednesdays Are For Falling In Love

alyseb630 asked:

10. “Teach me how to play?”

Thank you! There wasn’t a ship with this, so I hope you don’t mind that I used Adrienette - the prompt gave me a chance to play with one of my headcanons, so I took the opportunity!

“Teach me how to play?”

Marinette had said it as a joke; she’d been talking to Alya about wanting to learn the piano before class started, and Nino had turned to the pair, grinning mischievously.

“You know who’s great at the piano?” Nino nodded to the boy sitting next to him before wither of the girls could answer. “Adrien! He’s been learning since he was a kid!” Adrien looked round to Nino at the mention of his name. His arm draped around the back of his seat as he turned to face Marinette, smiling warmly as he entered the conversation.

“Really, Adrien?” Alya asked, propping her head in her palm as she leaned on the table. 

“I mean, I wouldn’t say I was great,” Adrien replied with a laugh, “but I’ve been learning for about eight years, so I know what I’m doing.”

Nino snorted. ″Not great my ass!” He rolled his eyes at the two girls, pointing to Adrien with his thumb. “I’ve heard him play - he’s amazing.”

Marinette smiled, arms folded on the desk as she leaned forward slightly. She was starting to get more comfortable around Adrien, when she was with Alya and Nino at least, and she’d said the words with a laugh in her voice.

“Teach me how to play?”

She hadn’t expected him to say yes

Which is how she found herself at one of the most prestigious music schools in Paris sharing a piano seat with Adrien Agreste, who was earnestly explaining the basics of piano playing.

Marinette was trying to pay attention, she really was. But he was sitting so close, and now and again his arm would brush against hers as he stretched along the piano keys, and it took everything she had not to start hyperventilating at each accidental touch.

Breathe, Marinette, she thought. Just keep breathing, and you’ll be fi- why is he staring at me? Oh god. What did he just say? Damn it Marinette, why weren’t you listening?

Adrien was looking at her, eyebrows raised in concern as she blinked at him, trying to figure out what he had just told her.

“Marinette? Are you okay?” he asked when she didn’t respond after a moment.

She let out an awkward laugh, a hand instinctively tugging at one of the locks of hair which fell in front of her ear. 

“Yes! I’m fine! Sorry, I got a bit… lost with the explanation. It’s - it’s a lot to take in,” she replied, gesturing to the instrument in front of her. Adrien nodded, and Marinette let out an inaudible sigh of relief that he’d bought the excuse.

“That’s understandable. I’ve been going through everything pretty fast - where did you get lost? I can go over it again, if you want.” Adrien smiled kindly at her, one hand leaning on the small section of seat next to him, and Marinette waved her hands in response, flapping them wildly as she shook her head.

“No, no, it’s okay! I just, uh, need a minute to let it all sink in!” Her eyes darted around the room before landing on Adrien’s face, watching her with a smile. She laughed nervously, and an idea popped into her head.

“Would - would you play something?” Marinette asked, looking at the piano in front of them. She turned back to face Adrien, enthusiasm lighting up her eyes. “I’d love to hear what you can do!” She paused for a second. “Please?”

Adrien blinked at the abrupt change in topic. “I guess - I mean, I can if you really want,” he replied, pushing himself forward slightly and straightening up as he faced the piano. “But are you sure you don’t want to keep-”

“Nope! It’s all yours!” Marinette said cheerily. She shot out of the seat to the other end of the piano, putting some distance between her and Adrien. She leaned forward to rest on the lid of the piano, smiling at him encouragingly. Adrien blinked back at her, a mixture of confusion and surprise on his face at the sudden movement. He shrugged, shaking off his confusion and letting a small smile grow on his face at Marinette’s enthusiasm. 

Adrien moved to the center of the bench and straightened his posture, relaxing his arms from the shoulder as his fingers arched above the piano keys. His gaze darted quickly to Marinette, who’d linked her fingers together and placed her chin on them, leaning on the piano and watching him in anticipation. He took a deep breath, looked back at the piano, and began to play.

Nino had been right; Adrien was great. Marinette watched as he fell into the music, the notes filling the room like sunshine filtering through a window, surrounding the pair of them and calming the chaotic world outside.

Marinette couldn’t look away as Adrien played, his hair falling so that his eyes were hidden from her as he looked down at the ivory keys, his concentration never faltering as the melody’s difficulty increased as he gracefully caressed the keys. She shut her eyes, and let the slowly crescendoing notes wash over her, the melody a wave building in intensity before it finally crested.

The last note echoed through the room sooner than Marinette expected; she opened her eyes, and saw Adrien look up at her, smiling shyly. Marinette lifted her head from her hands and shook it softly, mouth open in a smile filled with admiration.

“That was amazing,” she said, her voice quiet with reverence as she gazed at him, eyes wide. Adrien shrugged, one hand reaching to scratch the back of his head as he looked down at his knees.

“Thanks. I’ve had a lot of practice,” he replied, a smile growing at the honesty in Marinette’s voice as she complimented him. “Now come on. Your go.” Adrien shuffled back to the side, patting the spot next to him. Marinette shook her head fiercely.

“Uh-uh. No way I’m following that!” Marinette said, raising her hands and backing away from the piano. Adrien chuckled before pushing the bench back, scraping it along the wooden floor, and standing up. He walked towards Marinette and took her hands, still raised in the air, gently pulling her back to the piano. She followed his lead, and Adrien grinning at her as he walked backwards towards the seat, twisting away from her only to sit back down. He let go of one of Marinette’s hands, keeping hold of the other as she placed herself next to him. 

Adrien squeezed Marinette’s hand reassuringly before releasing it, turning to face her with a reassuring smile.

“So where exactly did you get lost in the explanation?” He asked, raising his chin towards the piano. Marinette scrunched her nose as she thought back to Adrien’s explanation, raising a finger when the last thing she recalled came to her.

“You were showing me chords!” she exclaimed. Adrien nodded, straightening his posture once more.

“Okay, great! We’ll start with C - you need to place your fingers here, and here,” he said, demonstrating with his own hands. Marinette copied the pose, arching her fingers and imitating Adrien’s posture, a gesture which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“That’s perfect, Marinette!” Adrien said, genuine enthusiasm in his voice. “We’ll make a pianist of you yet! Now come on,” he grinned, nudging Marinette gently with his elbow. “Let’s make some music.”

Smashing silence gets tougher
the longer quiet is kept
for every moment we sit still
and complacent
without stirring
without asking
the thought of standing
and screaming
or even speaking
becomes that much more daunting
that much more of a fantasy
I don’t want to lie here anymore
I’d like to set the world on fire
or maybe just live in it
I’ll only find out if I try
get up with me
if we rise together
maybe we’ll be able to fly
let’s start a revolution
—  A.O.A.M. || Still

going to a wedding with calum would obviously get your mind turning about how your own relationship stood seeing as you’d been together for nearly 3 years, so naturally you were all smiles whenever someone came up to you gleefully asking ‘so it’ll be you guys next right?’ completely unaware of your boyfriend’s internal panic because marriage hasn’t even crossed his mind and he ends up sulking away while you dance with all your friends. you only find him again, a bit later on in the night, in the company of one of the utterly gorgeous bridesmaids who is practically sitting on his lap and they’re just laughing away as another wedding guest approaches and continues to ask the two if they would be next to be married, not realising the extent of their mistake. and your heart just shatters because you love him so much but you feel like after tonight you’re gonna lose him because they look so good together now that someone’s mentioned it and calum doesn’t even notice you leaving, crying your heart out as he wraps an arm around the bridesmaid’s waist chuckling off the comment with a fond smile in her direction, exactly as you wished he had done so with you.


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