i love you more than i can explain

six-word sentences.
  • frankly speaking, i wanna give up.
  • they love me cause i’m hot.   
  • just try to guess the answer.
  • everyone here knows you don’t care.
  • fine, do things your way.
  • i want to be in love.
  • no, i would rather make money.
  • shut up already, i’m not going.
  • because you said that, fuck you!
  • i hate you more than anything.
  • just sit down? let me explain?
  • can i be a little nasty?
  • there’s nothing wrong with being sexual.
  • i want you to like me.
  • don’t you dare lie to me.
  •  i’m way too scared to fall.
  • terrified of my love for you?
  • we were both afraid, shut up.
  • it wasn’t anyone’s fault. not really.
  • life’s too short to care anymore.
  • i dreamt about you last night.
  • really? what did you dream about?
  • i dreamt you chose me instead.
  • how did you become like this?
  • this isn’t any of your business.
  • i’m losing my mind, losing control.
  • you weren’t there! i needed you!
  • please don’t start with me, okay?
  •  why do you always leave me? 
  • this is all we have left.
  • i turned around. you were gone.
  • all i can think about is you.
  • wow, you look like shit today.
  • i called and you didn’t answer.
  • i wanna be a child forever.
  • today, my love is in mourning.  
  • your words felt like sharp knives.
  • “ say something nice or don’t speak. 
I didn’t think I loved her,” he said,
“I was with her for months and I spent so many nights with her falling asleep on my chest. I knew her family, although they didn’t like me much but that never seemed to bother her and it certainly didn’t bother me. My family were quite fond of her though, I mean bringing girls back to my house for more than a one night stand was pretty uncommon for me and besides, she had these huge brown eyes that lit up whenever she spoke to you, it was pretty rare for someone to dislike her, she was nice, you know? She meant well. Pure intentions you could say, and we all know how rare that kind of shit is these days. But back to my point, despite all of this - I still couldn’t hand on heart say I loved her, sure she was nice to have around and I can’t even begin to explain the anger in my chest I’d get whenever someone else looked at her, she was mine but for some reason I couldn’t love her, I tried, I tried so hard but I couldn’t and eventually we ended it because i don’t know about you but pretending things are fine when they’re not is pretty god damn exhausting after awhile. A year later and we haven’t had much contact, barely any in fact - I’ve had the obvious drunk calls but I haven’t had one in awhile now, word around town is that she has a new boyfriend now, so that’s probably why. And I shouldn’t be bothered really because I knew this was gonna happen eventually, but it’s 3am and a year ago I was pretty convinced that I didn’t love her, now I’m not too sure.
—  Too late /
Excerpt of a book I’ll never write
You’re much more than words,
I can’t explain you in a sentence.
You’re more than your scars,
although they tell a sad story–
you’re not limited to a single page,
you’re a collection of flaws
waiting to be read and
it’s red that needs to be spilled
and if ink is enough–
and if love is enough–
you’re much more than words,
I can’t explain you in a poem.
You’re more than these stars,
although you’re lost just like me–
you’re more than a single line,
you’re more than another angle.
We have to believe the little details.
—  That’s all we have
Did you know she hums Katy Perry songs when she stretches?  And not in key.  That she loves grape soda and hates cilantro and can spend almost a half hour explaining why?  I do because I’ve spent about a hundred more hours talkin’ to her than you…and I’m not fallin’ in love with her.

Sure, Mike.  Sure.  That’s why you know all these things about her and listen carefully enough to her off-key singing that you know exactly what song she’s singing…

  • Clarke: Lexa wait-- I love you.
  • Lexa: *stares into the camera like she is on the office* Clarke, I love you more than words can describe. I could spend hours trying to explain my love for you and it still wouldn't be enough. You are my everything and Jrot can fight me if he legitimately thinks I wouldn't say it back to you, my love.
When I talk about wanting to feel better, when I do feel up to the task of being more than a still painting, when I spill out more reasons than I can explain, when I challenge myself to do more than I did yesterday, when I forget about myself along the way, when I’m bending myself to see if I’m still cracked, when I’m blending myself into the blood of the love letters, when I find out if I can really love myself, when I try to understand that loving someone doesn’t mean a simple I love you, when I open up to you and you’re just waiting for me to smile, when I travel through my shower thoughts and I remember things that I should not, when I turn this year into something meaningful, when I flip through these pages to find out the truth, when the sun kisses the sea and the moon speaks to me, when everything goes as planned and you’re just there waiting for me to see that I am worth the trouble of being nothing but myself, when I’m feeling the most vulnerable and alone, when I’m just collapsing on myself, but you’re still waiting and waiting for me to know that things don’t always end badly if you try your hardest every day, I know things won’t always be butterflies and roses– but when I think about the beginning and the end.
—  It starts with you.
On being chosen.

I feel compersion.  I am very happy seeing my love happy. Feeling jealousy isn’t terribly common for me, but I’ve recently identified one of the things that I think contribute to its occasional appearance among all the other feels.

That thing is not feeling chosen.

How can I explain. You see, I watched my husband choose his girlfriend. He chose her from among many potential women, and spent the first many months of their relationship doing everything he could to show her he chose her, that he liked her, that she was special to him. And our relationship of 20+ years continued along, on maybe a slightly more deliberate setting than autopilot, but with very little thought to whether the settings we’d been comfortable with all those years were still the best ones. On whether we were even the same people we’d learned those settings for.

Recently though, when he and his girlfriend began to try and work through some rough times, it became clear that I was being hurt, suffering collateral damage as it were. And one way I realised I was being hurt was by his assumption that having chosen me once was enough. But watching him struggle in a new romance and not knowing how he was going to resolve things, and how our relationship would look at the end of it, I began feeling more and more insecure, and less and less valued. Until when he would say ‘I love you’, I would hear it as a scrap thrown to me, not as the heart-stopping phrase it once was.

After struggling with this for a while, I realised that I needed to see, hear, know, that I was chosen, again and again, over and over, not instead of his shiny new girlfriend, but as well as, alongside of.  Chosen to still be his love while he also learned to love her. Not chosen in the same way, not for the same reasons, but chosen all the same, for the things that make me special to him, for the things that I bring to him that she cannot, just as I rejoice in his enjoying what she brings to him that I cannot. 

I told him what I thought. And he heard me, and understood, because he’s awesome, and he texted me “I choose you.” And I cried. 

I actually think that there’s a lot of power in this, in knowing that my partner chooses me not because it’s the default option, but rather that he chooses me from myriad choices because he sees value in me, because he loves me.  

We’re figuring out what this looks like in everyday life a bit at a time, haltingly, but the one thing I know for certain is that it’s not going to look the same now as it will in 6 months, or 6 years. Because continually expressing curiosity about who the other is, how they’ve grown and changed, and what they need, that  seems so far to be a key part of this  expression of 'I choose you’.

I can’t explain to you the way when she smiles at me she makes me feel like the happiest person in the world. I can’t tell you how when she kisses me she makes me feel more alive than I ever have before. And I seriously can’t put into words the love I have for her. When I look at her all I can see is my forever, and I can’t help but think that she’s the only one I want to be looking at when I’m 24, or 47, or 82. I just want her. I never want to stop looking at her. I never want her to go away. She’s the one. I am so in love with her.
—  God I am so in love with you.

anonymous asked:

*merrill voice* you're in love :3

Fenris could bear the giggling no longer. “What?” he snapped.

“You’re in love,” she accused, and alarm flashed through him. It was a familiar feeling, that sense of dread, the cold that rushed down his spine, the quick, sick surge in his belly. Fenris jerked, and missed a step. He looked, quickly, to Hawke, several paces away. The mage’s back was to him, and he gave no indication he had heard. That didn’t necessarily mean anything.

Merrill was never cruel, but she was, often, thoughtless. When he looked to the little witch, her satisfied smile made it clear his reaction had told her everything she thought she needed to know.

“I am not,” Fenris hissed, low, guilty, afraid. Hawke did not know. Hawke could never know.

Merrill did not take the hint. “You keep looking at Hawke with those sad puppy eyes every time his back is turned!” she said, too loudly. He jerked his glare from her to Hawke, but the man wasn’t looking. No one was. He heard her. He had to hear her. They all did. He felt sick.

“There are no puppy eyes,” Fenris growled, his head lowered, his hands clenched. Hawke had to believe it. The only way for Hawke to be happy was for Hawke to believe it – for Hawke to feel free to move on, to give his love to someone who deserved it.

Hawke’s hands were worshipful on his body. His voice was reverent in his ear. “I love you. I love you. I lo

Merrill touched his arm. Fenris jerked violently away. He snarled. The wretched witch only smiled.

“It’s all right, you know,” she told him gently. “Even you can be happy once in a while; it won’t kill you.”

Hawke’s ears were red. When he glanced back, he was stone-faced, unreadable. Fenris quickly dropped his eyes. His hand fell to the favor on his wrist. He shouldn’t keep wearing it. He didn’t have the strength to remove it.

“But!” Merrill went on, failing to notice this exchange. She was cheerful, delighted in her discovery. “Your face might crack if you smile,” she told him. “So be careful!”

Breaking the Glass




Kent doesn’t say anything for a minute.  His mouth is occupied with tasting the skin over Alexei’s collarbone.  It’s not sexy, really.  Not now.  He’s sated, and bone-tired, and the arms round him are warm and heavy.  His eyes are half closed as he mouths at his fiance’s skin.


Alexei doesn’t answer verbally this time, but draws sluggish fingers through Kent’s hair, mussing his cowlicks more than usual.

“I don’t want to break the glass.”

Alexei shifts, slightly to the side, then tilts his head down to look at Kent.  “Why?”

“I don’t…”  Kent doesn’t really know how to explain it.  He tries to express himself as best he can, but he’s never really been good at it.  “Do you ever get tired of everything we get having to be surrounded by misery?  My mom…”  He stops and takes a breath because he loves his mother.  She did her best by him, but sometimes it was so fucking hard, and sometimes he swears she’s only really content when everything in her life is terrible.  “I spent so many years being unhappy, Alyosha.  Everything was so fucked for so long.”

“Okay,” Alexei says softly, in that way he’s letting Kent know he can keep talking until he gets it all out.

“I met you, and this is the first fucking time that loving someone doesn’t feel like I’m walking on shards of glass.  I want…I want…”  He stops and pushes his face hard against Alexei’s shoulder, and his eyes squeeze shut.  “I don’t want to think about being shattered apart.  I don’t want our wedding to represent destruction.  Of anything.  I want one fucking day where it’s about us, and love, and being happy for the first time in my life.  I know it’s not about that.  I know it’s not…it’s meant to celebrate being rejoined but…”

“Kenny,” Alexei breathes, and Kent stops talking.  He shifts, and Alexei moves so he can cup Kent’s cheek with one, massive hand.  His thumb brushes a constellation of freckles just under Kent’s left eye.  “Is okay.  I’m understand, and want you to be happy.  This being our day, Kent.  Mine, yours.  You not want, is okay.  We not have.”

“My mother’s going to be so pissed,” Kent murmurs, and tucks himself deeper into the embrace because he knows that compromising certain traditions is going to be hell.  She’ll be angry, but smile through it and he’ll have to weather a tsunami of passive-aggressive bullshit for months to come.  If not years.  If they have a kid, she’ll send snarky messages about, ‘What traditions are you going to ignore for the birth?  Are you going to raise this child as a child of G-d, Kent?  Have you been keeping the Shabbat at all?’

But he supposes she’d do it anyway, whether or not they follow every goddamn ceremony to the T.  Because she really only knows how to love him like this.  She only knows how to drag people down with her, into her well of unhappiness.  And he’s accepted that for years now.

“Is okay.  I’m be there with you.  Our day, Kenny.  Want you smiling, no frown.”  Alexei runs his thumb across Kent’s bottom lip before he leans in and kisses him, slow and sweet.  “No breaking glass.”

“Okay,” Kent says, and he breathes, and feels lighter and calmer than he did before.  He hadn’t realised how much it was weighing on him.  He knew how fucking lucky he was to find Alexei, and he doesn’t need to smash a glass to be reminded that he knows he was shattered apart.  He doesn’t want to celebrate that, and he thinks maybe G-d would understand.

Alexei does, at least, and ultimately that’s what matters most.  Right now, anyway.

He lets himself smile after a minute, after his shoulders unclench and his hand moves up to brush a lock of hair from Alexei’s forehead.  “I fucking love you, babe.”

“Yes,” Alexei said, his brow furrowed and serious.  “I’m know this.  Because I’m best.”

Kent laughs, feeling stupid and giddy and fucking wonderful.  He nestles in.  “Yeah babe.  Yeah you really are.”

doc-scarecrow  asked:

What do you feel is the best depiction of time travel in film or tv?

I know it’s not a tv show or movie, but I can’t let this question go without explaining how much I love how time travel is handled in 70s-80s issues of Legion of Super-Heroes. The “rules” for it made the most functional story sense of any portrayal of it I’ve ever seen, and I don’t think they get enough credit for it. 

For starters, one of the rules was no duplication, so more than one of person couldn’t exist in the same moment in time. If you think about it, this means time travel can’t be used to “cheat” or to go back and “get it right.” This rule resolves so many issues that introducing time travel can have.

Then you have the idea that, while it is possible to change the past, but not everything you do could change anything. Only altering key moments in time actually change the timeline: Nexus Points, which can be interfered with (Lincoln’s assassination, Kal-El coming to earth, etc). Because no one ever knows what could be a nexus point, it’s in a time traveler’s best interest to interfere as little as possible. This made sense to me, as I’ve always figured the overwhelming decisions you make just don’t matter.

Even apart from the rules, time travel in the Legion was just plain cool. I loved the Time Bubbles and the Time Cube. I loved the fact that the 30th Century had a Time Institute that a grad student in physics could get an internship at, and the Time Beacon, a “lighthouse for time travelers,” was one of the most memorable traits of 30th Century Metropolis’s skyline.

To answer your question with a movie example, my favorite portrayal of it has to be Uncle Rico’s time machine in Napoleon Dynamite, and that’s because of a personal story of mine. Uncle Rico’s time machine was in fact an actual thing you could get off the internet for a little while. I know that because, when I was younger and way more gullible, I actually bought one (though it was slightly different than the prop used in the film). The one I had actually came with crystals that you had to set up. The coolest thing about it was something that wasn’t mentioned in the movie: right out of the box, it came with small bills and coins of old American money, so you could buy things when you went back in time.


Thank you, Taylor for giving me music to dance to, cry to, sing to, play piano and ukulele to, and scream out the car window to.
Thank you for checking up on me every once and awhile, you have no idea how happy that makes me!
Thank you for being on my side for the majority of my life, it’s been amazing growing up with you.
Thank you for creating the best nights of my life (fearless tour, red tour, 1989 tour).
Thank you for being just an amazing human being, but also being a cute dork who’s obsessed with cats.
You mean so much to me, I love you more than I can even begin to explain (can we talk about the fact that in 2/6 of my posts Taylor’s liked I said that, can that be our thing?)
p.s. I tried to come up with a joke to put in this but I had problems thinking of something that would make you laugh so just remember that I will be on your side fur-ever, please don’t fur-get that.
(really halley, cat puns, that’s the best you could do? ugh you’ve got to be kitten me)

What I Hate Love You was all about

While reading all the posts concerning I Hate Love You I noticed that a lot of people said something like this – “I haven’t even read the fic, but what you are saying is horrible…” And, honestly, if I had read only those posts but not the actual fic itself and wouldn’t know how it ends I might be feeling the same way. That’s why I want to explain what was I Hate Love You is all about.  

Keep reading

a love letter to the doctor who/sherlock fandom

you deserve so much better than these shows. 

alright, let me explain. a couple of years ago, these fandoms were my life. i was very interested in these shows, and since the fanbase was and is made up of primarily teenage to 20-something girls, i was immediately welcomed and made comfortable in it. i had fun with you guys! we made theories, analyzed every bit of information we got, and it motivated me to write more and work on something that i found i loved. as “cringey” as it can be painted as, this fandom was a fun thing to be apart of and i had a genuinely good time as a part of it. 

the issue isn’t with you guys, though- it’s with your showrunner. 

steven moffat runs both of these shows, and they both have one thing in common- lazy writing both about women and for women. 

i am absolutely not attacking you for enjoying this and loving these characters. i also loved these characters and were inspired by them! the issue is with how they’re treated in the show. 

here’s a good example from sherlock: irene adler. putting aside the fact that she pretty much revolutionized my entire life, she was deeply interesting, intelligent, and good character- for the first half of the episode she was in. 

irene was so cool and interesting to watch because she posed a serious threat to sherlock. she directly countered him and beat him when they went head to head, showing that he could be outsmarted and she, more importantly, was capable of doing all of this on her own. 

this unravels towards the ending- it’s shown that she needed moriarty to do all of this and she was secretly crippled by her love for sherlock. 

the issue with this isn’t even just that she’s “turning straight” for sherlock (or that she’s another stereotype of the hypersexualized bisexual if you’re looking that way), it’s the fact that she is helpless if not for men and because of men. she depends on moriarity to be intelligent and she falls apart for sherlock because he’s a smart, intelligent, better than her man. 

she isn’t the only character like this. think amy pond and how the doctor constantly yells at her because he knows better than her. think clara and how her entire life, everything that makes her special, revolves around that she lives for the doctor. think mary and how her entire life is a tool to give john and sherlock reasons to develop as characters. think the master turned missy, suddenly a flirty, hypersexual being completely enthralled with the doctor in a way she wasn’t in her earlier incarnations. even river, an amazing and mysterious time lord, dies for the doctor because he’s so wonderful that she had to see him. 

it doesn’t even stop there! can anyone explain where demon’s run came from? i am genuinely wondering here and i have been for years now. where did kadavra and her space army come from?! why can the doctor cause a second big bang but can’t go back in time slightly before or after the paradox where amy and rory are stuck instead of leaving them behind? i haven’t seen the new season of sherlock, but i’m seeing even more complaints about the plot with that, too.

every time someone questions moffat on it, he treats the fandom as though they’re just too dumb to figure it out. 

first off, if your viewers couldn’t put together how something was done on your show without it being explained, especially in something that has such a massive and diverse following, you are a bad writer. fact. cut and print, you are. if something doesn’t make in-world logical sense to your viewers your writing is weak. 

the fact of the matter is, moffat views you all as too stupid to be able to realize that he made giant plot errors. he creates these female characters the way he does because he thinks that this is all you guys are limited to.

here’s the thing: you aren’t. so many of you are incredibly creative and smart. you guys invented ways for this shit writing to make sense in fantastical and spellbinding ways. you didn’t find yourselves in the shit boxes that he made for you, but instead took his “superior men” characters and made them more interesting and deep than he ever could. you drew and wrote and thought and inspired yourselves and each other in more ways than anyone else. 

you deserve so much better than a shit writer who thinks he’s better than you all when you’ve all done so much more creativity than he ever has in his garbage shows. take what you’ve learned and go. go make your own stories. make women you can relate to because they’re actually closer to people than puppets. fall in love and build worlds and travel the world with the power that you have inside of yourselves. you made friends and little worlds and families out of this. take them with you and make them better. you can do anything in the world alone but you don’t have to. you made friends and a community, and you can help each other and continue to build each other up while also spiting the same shithead that accidentally brought you together. 

these shows aren’t shit because you guys are interested in it. it’s shit because it’s underestimating all of you. you can and will make better things that you can all love and share. 

so yeah. fuck moffat and his shit writing. love yourselves. that is all.


It’s been so long since I drew Mia in her bike úvu;; sorry for the potato bike. I tried to cover it up by making it more Vuvalini-y or something, like in that other illustration I’d made of her a while ago.

Also my buddy @neonavengers on twitter is doing a playthrough of Fallout 4 with a character they modelled after Mia and I am loving it more than words can explain so I used it as inspiration for her outfit. 

You can tell I kinda gave up on the shading but whatever. Enjoy.

Dating Colossus Would Include...

Request// @mydemonexorcist

Originally posted by hystericblack

-Him being super over protective of you always and you always telling him you can fend for yourself

-You trying to explain Deadpool’s sense of humor to him, and laughing when he keeps saying “I do not get it, it is not funny.”

-You constantly having to reassure him that you do love him and that he’s doing everything okay, “I did not mess up?”  “No Piotr, I promise everything is okay.” You smile at him.

-Him always looking to you for direction, and you being more than happy to help

-Him being the most selfless person ever and constantly asking if he can do things to assist you

-Which means he always carries in the groceries after shopping, but never complains, which is a bonus for you

-You finding it both adorable and hilarious at how seriously he handles every situation 

-Him hugging you too tight almost every time, but you never telling him because you can’t handle whenever he gets that hurt look on his face. Plus, in the long run the hugs are amazing

-You always loving the fact that he has the biggest heart of anyone you know despite looking like he could crush a car with his bare hands

-The fact that your smile is the only thing he needs to be happy

-How determined he is to make you laugh because he loves hearing it, so he’ll spend hours on the internet writing down bad jokes and then delivering them all wrong, but you laugh anyways, because he always looks proud when you do. “Now that one was funny, yes?” “Yes, that had to be the best one yet.” You kiss him on the cheek

-Him always kissing the top of your head, because you’re the perfect height

-Basically him being the sweetest person ever, like a big puppy dog 

you know, trees is more than just a song to me.

it’s a cleansing ritual.

when i listen to it fully, when i really need to hear the desperation in tyler’s voice and unleash the silent scream in my chest? those are the moments i remember.

i can allow myself to cry, but i have a huge smile. i feel like my face is going to split in half. my cheeks burn and stretch into a genuine expression of happiness.

i feel every cell in my body vibrating. i’m choking and shaking. but i am alive.  

trees is my catharsis. it is my release. it is my alternative to pain. it is the thing that lets me feel like i deserve to occupy space on this planet. it makes me believe in something much bigger than myself. it makes me want to keep going. 

it makes me happy to be alive.

  • Rukia: I have a strong sense of honor, pride, and lawfulness.
  • Ichigo: Rukia, I've been wrongfully imprisoned!
  • Ichigo: But isn't this more suspicious than just staying and explaining--