i meant something different

  • fanfic writer: *writing* Oh wow, they are going to love this. This is by far my best work!
  • fic: *witty lines* *perfect love making* *fluffy enough to kill us all* *a dash of angst, a smidgen of hurt/comfort*
  • fanfic writer: Oh man. This is it. This will be my legacy! *sweats into fic* *bleeds into fic* *cries into fic* *spends days perfecting the grammar and verbage and sex scenes* *has 15 betas look over it*
  • fanfic writer: Okay. It is finally time to release my baby on the world. Here you go fandom. You're welcome.
  • fandom: Ha, cute. *like* *kudos*
  • fanfic writer: :/
  • * * *
  • same fanfic writer: *writing* Whatever. This is shit, I don't even care right now. A singing squirrel? Sure, let's do it. Haha, cheesy lines that make no sense, sure. Grammatical errors out the wazoo? Why not. No one's going to read this piece of crap anyway, I literally wrote it on a scrap of 1 ply toilet paper with a broken yellow crayon.
  • fanfic writer: LOL *post*
  • fanfic writer: *sigh*

The Ugly Differences

The ugly difference was,
She meant something to me.
But I was her everything.

The ugly difference was,
She could make me happy.
But I could make her sad.

The ugly difference was,
She held some space in my heart.
But I filled hers to the brim.

The ugly difference was,
She was the sparkle in my night.
But I was her night sky.

The ugly difference was,
She was the spark to my fire.
But I was her fuel.

—  Sahej Sahni

i remember the first time i read 13 reasons why. i was 16, and in troubles. nurse recommanded me this book. at the time, i just got out of a abusive relationship. i had to stay in an addiction shelter because all of the shit that happened to me made me depressed, and suicidal. i had a permission once a month. i could go back to my family just for 48 hours and pretend to be fine. like nothing happend to me. but once, i did it. i took a bunch of pills and drink half of a bottle of vodka to try to end the pain. luckily, my mom came home earlier this day. i was already unconscious, but my heart was still beating. i woke up in a hospital bed, alone. my family, they were forbidden to see me. when i asked the nurse for how many hours, she smiled and said “sweetie, no one will visit you for two weeks”. three days later, when they thought i was recovered from what i did, they asked me why. i just said i couldn’t face it anymore. that all of the hits i took from him destroyed me. that i couldn’t take it anymore, that i was afraid to see him and go through this again. that i wanted the pain to leave. forever.
that’s when they asked me if i ever thought of my folks. “how do you think they will react?”, “i don’t know” i said.
“their lifes are never gonna be the same. they will ask themselves if they could have done something differently”, “i don’t care” i said.
And i meant it. By this time, i didn’t freaking care about what they would have feel if i really did it because all i care about was to be in peace.
Then, i went back to this addiction shelter. I still had the same nurse. When i saw her, something was different. She didn’t wear that eyeliner anymore and her hair were not as shiny as they were. She looked real tired. She came to me and gave me that book. She said “read it. don’t act like you’re her. act like your parents, your classmates, your friends are her parents, her classmates, her friends. you’ll see the pain you’ll cause if you don’t fight this.”
So i did read it. all over again over those two weeks. And i never try to kill myself again. Not that i didn’t want to end the suffer anymore but because i didn’t want to start their suffering.
So thank you Jay Asher, for allowing me to live my life.
Now, 6 years later, i’m okay. Not everyday, and it’s okay. There’s always be bad days. It’ll be a part of mde for the rest of my life, but i’m okay, i got over this darkness.

An Essay about LGBTQ+ representation and art, tied up with a bit of a tribute to Stephanie Rice.

I haven’t written something like this in quite a while. But I’ve been thinking a lot this past month about stories (even more than usual). So please be patient with all the caffeinated rambling I have to do here. 

Needing to tell stories is something I have always known. There’s not a point in my life that I can look back on and not find in my younger self the intense will to put words and worlds, experiences and characters on paper. I’m sure this is a thing many artists and storytellers would say about their own lives. It’s the heart hammering, hand shaking need to find an outlet for experiences, passion, compassion and emotion that answers every “how did you know you wanted to do this” question with a “because I had to.”

Being gay is something that I haven’t always known. And yes, I can look back on my life and point to moments and insecurities and road bumps that came from having always been gay. But I haven’t always known. Knowing came later. Knowing came with combined fear and confidence and the ability to eventually shatter the brick walls I’d built to hold my shoulders upright, in order to look at myself more clearly. And then I knew, and now it’s as though I always have.

I spend a lot of time thinking about my experience coming out and the experiences of other LGBT people around me, and young kids who have come out and are coming out every day, either in quiet moments to themselves, or in one big fight with their families, or again and again each day to that Uber driver or that woman next to you on the plane, or your hair dresser who always asks who you’re dating. I spend a lot of time thinking about how that experience can be made easier, how kids can be received with more love, how we can better learn who we are before the years of self doubt. And no matter how much I think about anything, I am almost always brought back to the same two ways to fix anything. 1. Through giving and compassion and 2. Through art and stories. 

With each generation in the LGBTQ community, the groundwork is laid for the ones that follow. From fighting for our right to live and be seen, to demonstrating that we’re just like everyone else, the generations before mine have laid a foundation that I am fortunate and humbled to stand on. In that light, I really and truly believe that it will be my generation that brings us alive, as a community, through art, that tells stories and writes songs so that generations after us can see themselves a little sooner, can look up to more than just a handful of queer artists, can grow up knowing and with families who know that there is no one normal, no cookie cutter sexuality, no right experience. 

I have few memories of experiencing media that was specifically gay, growing up. But one of the clearest I do have is watching Pretty Little Liars with my mom. I grew up in liberal Massachusetts, outside Boston with loving, accepting parents. Even still, I can vividly remember a time when Emily, a then high school student on the show kissed her girlfriend and my mother explained that she just “didn’t like to see it” that it was fine and she had “nothing against it” but “she’s just a little girl” and she didn’t want to think about it. I’m sure my mom’s response wasn’t different from many others. So often, the world is okay with kids being queer but not okay with showing them a world of experiences like theirs beforehand. My mom is one of the most loving people I know and I tell this story with a fondness. She’s always been accepting of who I am. I’ve always been safe and supported. There’s a chance she doesn’t even remember this moment because she loves me for who I am. But when all is said and done those moments happen all the time and they pile up and they mean something. They mean something because there are young kids, across the country, across the world, in less loving houses, with less accepting parents, who don’t have the word for what they feel for years and years, who are sheltered from seeing Emily Fields kiss girls on TV, who watch their parents turn off movies if two boys are in love. Those kids hear song after song on the radio where girls sing about boys and boys sing about girls. They’re raised on fairytales and animated films about Princesses who marry Princes or don’t marry at all. They flounder, they search, they look for themselves here and there and everywhere and they come up empty handed. They come up with one song by a niche band that no one else listens to, or one sad lifetime movie about a woman’s dead gay son, or one lesbian on a TV show who inevitably ends up dead. 

It’s my understanding that art is never meaningless. That culture and stories are what shape who we are, our worldview, our communities. It’s my understanding that when we diversify those stories we begin to change the world, stone by stone, kid by kid. 

Often, I hear other LGBTQ people talk about not wanting to be defined by being gay or bi or trans. But the more I grapple with it and the more I exist in this world, living in LA, working in television, fighting for my chance to tell stories, the more I want to scream it. I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay. I’m gay. Because maybe if I yell it loud enough some kid will hear it and say “hey me too.” Because maybe if I pour that pride and pain and passion into my art it will reach their television some day, their home, their couch, and even if it doesn’t change their dad’s mind, it might make them feel less alone or give them the right words for the pain and passion that they feel. 

I never watched The Voice before last year. I turned on season 11, at random, because I wanted to watch Alicia Keys be a coach. At some point, I stopped. It was fun but these aren’t the kind of shows that feel like they’re for me. They feel like they’re for corn fed, middle America, fighting over this pleasant looking man or that palatable country singer. And while I’m a creative who appreciates the rise and fall and hopes and dreams of other creatives as stories, these weren’t ones I was ever invested in. This year, I again turned the show on to watch season 12. Only to watch the auditions because those are fun and I get one more season with Alicia Keys. I remember the moment the show played Stephanie Rice’s backstory. I was watching it with one of my good friends. I remember we both perked up a little more when we saw her holding hands with her fiancée. I remember watching in an odd, baited breath silence as Stephanie began to tell her story and finding myself choking up just a little. For me, that emotional choked up feeling came from hearing things that I recognized, from watching her talk about the fear of disappointing her little sisters and knowing that exact same fear, to the same hands shaking, heart in your throat need to prove it’s alright, to make your way, to have your voice heard. Even as a person who has been out for years, an adult who is comfortable and confident in my sexuality, that feeling is still there. And as I watched it and watched her speak her truth and kiss another girl back stage I was reminded again that some kid, somewhere on a couch was going to see this, and feel that reliability, and feel seen and understood and not alone. I was driven again to keep fighting to tell my own stories.

There is something significant about pain and diversity and art that isn’t discussed enough. Art is universal and can be interpreted and understood and seen and heard and felt by anyone. But there is a rare and often overlooked feeling that comes when art feels like it understands you. When someone says words or shows an emotion that you can put your finger on and say you’ve felt. I stuck with the Voice after that. I watched specifically to follow Stephanie’s journey. For one, because she’s an incredibly talented artist, and for two, because I have a distinct understanding of how much harder that fight to make your way is.

Just a few nights ago I was driving, after my last day at my job in the Shannara Season 2 Writers Room, at about midnight down the freeway, and I was loudly singing along to Stevie Nicks with my windows down. On my reverse alphabetical order by artist itunes library, Stephanie Rice’s cover of White Flag comes right after Stevie Nicks’s Edge of Seventeen. So I’m driving and I’m singing and I know every damn word to Dido’s White Flag because I’ve heard it a hundred thousand times before and it was never even a song I cared about or liked. But I hadn’t heard this version that many times. Here I am, twenty-six years old, yelling at top volume in my car feeling my head get sort of swallowed and overcome and numbed by emotion as I do. Because when another gay woman sang that song, it changed. Because when another person fighting and dying to get their pain and emotion out of their chest sang that song, it changed. Because the emotion she sang with is emotion I know. Because suddenly yelling that I wouldn’t put my hands up and surrender became about something different. I can’t tell you what someone else meant by their song or their voice or their story. But I can tell you how it touched me personally. And I grinned like a damn idiot in my car because I felt a little stronger and a little prouder. 

I’m in the process of writing a feature/novel package with the brilliant Dawson Schachter. It’s a romance between two women. And as we work on it we keep having to remind ourselves of the reality that these stories don’t get told often, that the market for them is smaller, that they have to be palatable to the big wigs that will look at them. And that is infuriating and compromising and fucks with every better angel and creative demon you have, let me tell you. That’s the ugly part people don’t talk about. That’s the reality of being an LGBTQ creator. Being too gay or too different or not gay enough, not sensational enough, being martyred to your community when you would love just a little less pressure today, knowing the pressure is the only way, being brave because anything else has never even been an option you were given, feeling like failure means letting down that kid who needs this story, feeling like it means letting down the kid in you who needed this story and now just needs to get it out. But I also know how inspiring all those feelings can be and how it can feel like singing along at brain numbing volume to White Flag with your windows down going 90 on a freeway at midnight in Los Angeles far away from your home and your family. 

To Stephanie Rice, thank you. With as much weight as I can put in those two words, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for so bravely sharing your story and your art with America. Your vulnerability and light brought a story to televisions across this country that people need. And despite that particular journey wrapping up last night, I have no doubts that you will go on to keep sharing your soul through your music. As a fellow woman, as a fellow storyteller, you reminded me why I’m doing what I’m doing and I am so grateful to have gotten to hear your truth. You have a friend and supporter in Los Angeles if ever you need one. I look forward to hearing everything else you have to tell the world. 

To anyone else reading this, my friends, young LGBTQ followers, fellow writers, coworkers, strangers consider this very long ramble a plea for you to continue to back and support LGBTQ artists and youth. Continue to lend them platforms and elevate their voices. Continue to diversify the stories you tell, paint televisions and movies and the radio with kids that look like them, that sound like them, that feel like them. And please, also consider this very long ramble, another in a pile of promises I’ve already made to you, that I will never stop doing everything I can to illuminate your hearts and your souls and your stories. If I have to scream them or deliver them from the ground with bloody knuckles, I will make them heard. I hope that together, we can continue to build a foundation for generations after us, through art where exposure has opened hearts and minds, where stories have saved lives, and art has changed the world. We fight, as we always have, for a better, louder, prouder, safer, and more inclusive future. 

StarkQuill (QuickFic)

So this has nothing to do with anything, just a random little scene. I wanted to try a text only quick fic, and hopefully it works out and you can figure out the characters without me having to describe them lol.

“Stop staring.”

“I am not staring, I’m just gazing… in interest. It’s been a while since I’ve seen another human. This is purely scientific watching.”

“Okay. But the human you are scientifically watching, is being guarded by two soldiers who rival Drax, so maybe be a little more discreet.”

“Nah. They aren’t that scary. Besides the one has a metal arm. Maybe he’s related to Nebs.”

“Do not call my sister Nebs!”


“Hey what’s StarMunch staring at?”

“I am definitely not answering to StarMunch.”

“What’s StarCrap staring at?”

“The human.”

“The blond who can’t find a shirt that fits? The brunette with a murder-face and an arm I’m considering stealing? Or the real pretty one who keep staring at StarJerk?”

“Enough with the names, alright! Geez! And I’m not— did you say he was staring at me? Oh crap, guys look cool. Look like um, look like you are being told something very important by your wise leader Star Lord. Maybe look–”

“He’s coming over here.”

“Oh no! How’s my hair! Mask on or off? On or off!?”
“Stop staring at the aliens, I think you are weirding them out. That’s not really the way to get on their good side when we are hoping they will help us.”

“I’m not… staring. Just observing them. For science. Star Lord is human anyway, maybe I should go over and introduce myself.”

“Or, maybe we should wait for the rest of the team like we already discussed.”

“I’m going over there. How’s my hair?”

“Damn it. No. Just stay here. Follow the orders for once.”

“I don’t like the way that raccoon keep looking at my arm.”

“Lots of people look at your arm.”

“But usually in fear. Not while laughing and making grabby hands.”

“You both are ridiculous. I’m going over there.”

“Stay here!”
“What did we just–”
“Why doesn’t he ever listen?”

“Hey there. Welcome to earth. Or back to Earth as the case may be. Tony Stark.”

“Peter Quill. Uh, or Star Lord, as I am known throughout the galaxy.”

“Iron Man. Even though the suit isn’t technically iron at all.”

“Well Iron Man. You uh… want to see my space ship?”

“Are you personally going to be giving me the tour?”

“Oh definitely.”

“Lead on Star Lord.”
“I am Groot?”

“Yeah, he almost wet himself when the human called him Star Lord.”

“I am Groot?”

“No, buddy they didn’t want anyone else to come along.”

“I am Groot.”

“I know. So rude.”

“I am Groot?”

“No, it’s probably not just a tour. When he said tour he meant… something different.”

“I am Groot?”

“I’ll explain when you’re older. Just stay away from StarButt’s quarters for a while, eh?”

“I am Groot!”

“What!? No more TV for you! How do you even know that word!”

After Party - Seth Rollins x Reader

Summary:- You go out for a few drinks after Wrestlemania with Seth, Renee, and Dean. After a drunk guy gets far too flirty in the bar, Seth takes you back to the hotel, and reminds you who you belong to. 

Warnings:-Smut, Swearing, Daddy Kink

Word Count:-1,399


Keep reading

i haven’t seen this around among the many excellent theories, so i just wanna toss it out there:

Bigender Pidge. Genderfluid Pidge.

Pidge who is sometimes okay with he and sometimes with she and a lot of the time with both or either, but has days where there needs to be standing on a chair and loud correcting because not that one, not today. Pidge who has gotten used to figuring out how they feel today, and whether or not it matters, and he ends up explaining over and over sometimes because this is important today and other days she was up all night with robots and is too tired and doesn’t bother because today is one of those where each could be okay. Pidge who has a day where it is most definitely she, most definitely a girl day, and seizes the opportunity of feeling sold and real and right to try and explain, try and present, because this feels like the kind of thing that could go on for a while–

and then the next day “she” doesn’t fit anymore and when Lance uses “he” by accident and then tries to backtrack, Pidge tells him, “no, it’s fine”

and then next week, it’s back to “she”, and she’s afraid to explain this again, knows at some point they’re going to run out of patience, and so she just answers to whatever

and eventually the rest of the team might sort of forget, and Pidge is always Pidge but depending on the day or the month or the minute can have to avoid everyone else because hearing them talk about him with the wrong pronouns is too hard.

Pidge knows that she can’t expect them to keep up or deal with switching pronouns on an irregular basis, and isn’t going to try and ask. it can’t be really worth it, can it? he’s used to riding things out, to waiting for them to change, and it’s so hard to explain that sometimes she’s a she and sometimes he’s a he and

is there a point to it, really.

So yeah. Genderfluid Pidge who is too goddamn tired and afraid to explain themselves anymore.

Bts reaction to when you swear in Korean without realising it

Bts reaction to you saying a vulgar word in Korean, but you don’t realize you did since you are still learning


hope you like it! requests open


He would be shocked when them words came out of your mouth, ready to scold you like he would with the other boys he turns to see your face and realises you didn’t know you swore. This would cause him to laugh before he corrected you and told you want the word actually meant

Originally posted by gravitaetion


He would stare at you puzzled for a moment, trying to decide if you was swearing purposely or accidentally. He doesn’t mind swearing and no doubt very comfortable with swear words but finds it very cute when you mix up these words. He would always correct you though but laugh and tease you about it every now and then. “did you mean to say i love you y/n? because that word means something completely different”

Originally posted by winterkookie

Rap Monster:

He knew immediately when you said that phrase you thought it meant something different which only made it funnier. “i think you might need to polish your pronunciation” Hed laugh but be a very supportive boyfriend, helping you learn Korean as he understood how hard it was to learn a new language

Originally posted by myloveseokjin


“y/n? Did V tell you what that meant? because he lied, it isn’t a complement. You just said i looked like a horse”

Originally posted by jjibooty


Hed would be able to stop giggling and when you asked him why he was laughing so much he would shake his head laughing some more “ah y/n you’re adorable”   He would correct you if you ever said it in public but sometimes would just leave it, finding it funny.

Originally posted by okayoongz


He would definitely tease you and most likely not tell you just pull faces and laugh, leaving either you to figure it out or one of the other members to correct you.

Originally posted by frittatansonyeondan


in jungkooks head: should i tell her what she said, does she know she called me that, what does it even mean

Originally posted by baekon-stripss

When I said that you were my heart,

I meant the poetry wouldn’t write the same if you weren’t around. If my words ever loved me back, it will have been when you came into my life. If my poetry ever gave a solid fuck about my feelings, it will have been the day you started to call me your little brother. If I ever flatline and you still called me yours, I would like you to know, this journey has been worth every night when we couldn’t sleep. If I ever grew roses from my skull, I would like you to have them. If my voice doesn’t sound the same and you can no longer recognize it, I would ask the same questions and you’d recognize me right away. If I ever let you fall too far, don’t worry, darling, I’d become the haystack and you’ll be the needle. I’ll find you, don’t worry. And it’s been a trip, and it’s been a book, but you’ve never looked twice when it came to me. The many nights when you chose to talk to me among others and the many nights when the sky shared shades of red instead of pitch black will always be a reminder that even the sky bleeds at night. Even if we chose to break today, the words we have shared will live on forever and if I ever got another chance at fucking up everything in my life just to find you… You better believe it when I say that I’ll make every mistake just to find the one thing that I’ll never regret. I’ll fall down each time just to return to how it is now and I know it’s a long shot, but if it ever happened, I’m glad to have met you in this poetically burned life.

When I said that you were my soul,

I meant the trees wouldn’t be the same color. The way the leaves shed themselves every fall through winter. The way Halloween makes us mask ourselves because the ugliness we hold within has finally found a place called home. The way December added to our pain. If I ever got away with murder, it will have been because I killed myself once too many in my poems and I finally forgave myself. I meant every word of the undying wish that I’ll always find a way to grow as long as you’re around. I meant every spilled drop when I ripped open my arms and let the veins spell your name. I meant the letters were for you and only you. I know the weather doesn’t always permit, but if it rains and you’re ever sad, I want you to know, that even flowers can live near volcanos. I want you to know that fire can provide water. I want you to know that anger can somehow and someday become refined happiness. I want you to know that your younger brother is slowly growing into his own and maybe I’ve never really needed to grow too much, maybe I just needed to find myself again. I want you to know that besides being a rose, you are the poetry that I couldn’t write, but rather… You are the poetry that I would love to read forever. That’s what I meant when I said that your tore my soul open and restitched it whole. That’s what I meant when I said that you always knew how to make me smile.

When I said that I loved you,

I meant if everyone decides to leave you. If everyone you have ever loved abandons you. If any stranger that has befriended you betrayed your trust. If anyone who has ever touched your heart and decided that it was too broken. If religion finally realized that you weren’t a complete angel. If the sand near your toes decided to return to the ocean. If your fingers can’t remember when they were last held. If you can’t sleep at night because you miss him, him, her, him, him, him and him. If you ever miss that seed that you never got around to grow because life wasn’t meant for the both of you. If the mistakes finally carved themselves into your wrist. If the memories slowly destroy your very being because you can’t forgive yourself for being a shitty human. If your smile is fading by the hour and the caretaker you once knew, when she was standing way taller than you… but now she won’t be able to even match your laughter. If your inner child finally feels your first cut. If your outer adult finally feels your first tears. If you finally crack and can’t go on. If you finally give up. I meant that I will always love you. Even if you break. Even if you bleed. Even if you’re sick. Even if you’re lonely. Even if you have no one. Even if they all leave. Even if you’re unsure. Even if you’re frustrated. Even if you’re angry. Even if you’re indecisive. Even if you’re insecure. Even if you’re crying. Even if you can’t think. I will always have your back because you’re my best friend and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

When I said that I will always love you,

I meant the noose will always be ready for my neck. I meant the bullet will always have a name. I meant the blood will always stain. I meant the pain you have gone through isn’t beautiful, it’s simply you. But anything about you, it is laced with beauty. And the sadness we still endure will always have a home, it will always have a home as long as I’m around. And the black magic we write together, it will be used to put out fires, it will be used to calm the ocean, and it will be used to slow self torment. I meant if love ever made its way into my arms, I will most likely find you alone on a bench and I’ll say “it has to.” Because it does and it will and I believe it.

When I said that I will always have your back,

I meant you won’t ever have to be uncertain. I meant you won’t ever have to think twice. I meant you won’t ever have to be afraid. I meant you can sleep with both eyes closed. I meant you can love and be free. I meant you won’t ever have to doubt. I meant you can be anxious. I meant you can be nervous. I meant you can be you without fear of rejection. I meant you can change and I’d still love you. I meant you won’t ever need to trust again.

When I check up on you everyday,

I meant hello. I meant hey. I meant I missed you. I miss you. I love you. I’m here. Hi. I meant how are you. I meant how is my sunshine. I meant how is your heart. I meant how is your smile. I meant how is your mother. I meant how is your poetry. I meant how is your trust coming along. I meant do you still trust me. I meant do you still feel hurt. I meant you can trust me with your woes. I meant I won’t pry, but I will low-key try to find out if you’re okay or not. I meant if you don’t talk about it, just know that I’d still love your ways even if it meant you took forever to open back up. I meant if you ever needed to trip, I’ll be the unlaced shoes. If meant if you ever needed to die, I will be your reason not to.

When I asked you “does it get better?”

I meant how are you real. If you exist, then what am I? If you’re more than a mirage, then am I just another small piece of sand in the desert? If you’re a dream, am I just a nightmare gone wrong? Am I the sweat pouring from your skin or am I the rainfall you’ll feel each year when the earth splits into something that feels like everything and nothing at the same time. I meant does this room have enough space for two poets. I meant does your heart have enough cracks for a garden of roses. I meant does your smile have enough happiness to fill your lungs. I meant when was the last time you woke up with a smile. I meant if you broke today and no one was around, would you tell me?

When I said that you were my darling,

I meant that it’s almost been a whole year since I’ve first talked to you. I feel more now, I feel the lightness of it all. I feel okay now, I feel my wrongs but I also feel hers. I meant the first time I read your poems, I felt inferior. I meant when I read them now, I feel like family. I meant your bluntness kinda reminded me of my cousin, but now you’re bluntness kinda has its own ring. You have your own number and your own phone company. You have your own sting and your own hive. You are a queen and you are the workers. You are the trees and some days, I’m all of the leaves and it’s spring forever.

When I said that your poetry was beautiful

I meant I could pick it out among a million other poets. I meant I could spot an imposter an inch away from your greatness. I meant I could smell the bullshit they try to string you up as. I meant the words can never leave our veins and if we happen to trip, and if we happen to bleed for too long. Hang me up in the sky and let the rain drizzle for a little longer, don’t worry each drop is a poem and each thing we grow with this soft memory of us will always be just another reason to believe that you’re everything beautiful and pure.

When I said that I can hear your smile,

I meant we were children growing up that found out about the crowds. I meant we were teenagers growing up that looked for something more. I meant we lived two different lifestyles, but ended up seeing eye to eye. I meant that a family doesn’t always end up as family sometimes, because the pain isn’t always seen and the fear isn’t always said and that scares me the most, doesn’t it for you? I meant that if I were to simply disappear, I would want you to know; that even if I didn’t see you smile in person, I will have known peace because the ring of it all, the way I can hear the birds flying away when your lips decided that being quiet was enough and this isn’t going anywhere unless you told the truth. I meant that even if I became a liar and I couldn’t see myself for who I really was, I’d always have someone like you around. We’re all just lost souls trying to find a home and darling, I know people make shitty homes, but you’ve always been my favorite and it has been some time and I’ve never thought about relocating to anywhere else but inside of your lungs and you may not be able to breathe… but it must be gorgeous being you.

When I said that I will always be here for you,

I meant the number is always here and you know where to call. I meant the poetry is always here, you just need to write. I meant my heart is on your sleeve, you just need to feel. I meant the stars are in your eyes, you just need to see. I meant freedom is in your words, you just need to speak. I meant literature runs down your spine, you just need to read. I meant the world may be going to shit, but as long as you’re around, there’s still hope and as long as I’m around, there’s a chance that I’ll always be here for you.

When I said that you need not worry,

I meant don’t. Don’t worry about me. Don’t be scared. Don’t add to the stress. Don’t add to the red of Fall. Don’t look back. Look forward. I’m not too far. I’m not in the past. I’m now. I’m always. I’m forever. I’m a promise you’ll never have to worry about being broken. I’m a morning with sunlight and clouds fighting to cover your skies. I’m a night with moonshine and stardust waiting to touch your eyes. I’m your favorite song on repeat. I’m the last thing you’ll hear before bed. I’m the person checking your closet and under your bed. If monsters are real and sure enough, they are, I’ll make sure they understand that even people need space. People need room to breathe. And if they want to live, they better get out of the dark and run into the light because it’s such a tragedy if they just stopped being. We live in such colors, we live in such grey. The world is such a dangerous place, but you’ve managed to make it feel safe. The world is so flawed, but you’ve managed to make it feel perfect. I meant everything about you and I hope one day, I’ll understand everything that you’ve been meaning to tell me about myself.

So when you said that you loved me too,

I finally understood all of the things
I’ve always meant to tell you.

—  I mean it.

a couple of weeks ago i decided to start rereading crooked kingdom because it was my favourite book of last year (and probably ever) and id only read it once (whereas ive read six of crows 3 (?) times now!) i thought id put tabs in all my favourite bits of the book, like the bits that made me laugh or cry, the beautiful quotes, the hamilton references and… this is what it looks like now…
at some point each different colour meant something but i kept running out of the sticky tabs so towards the end its just kinda random…
… i just really really love this book, okay…

bosstoaster  asked:

3 sentence fics! Uliro: lemons (yes I'm looking at your theme shhh but mostly it makes me laugh. I remember when lemon meant something very different for fic)

“Here, let me help you,” Shiro said, reaching for the tray of lemonade his mother had brought from the kitchen.

“Thank you, Takashi,” his mother said with a smile, relinquishing the heavy tray into Shiro’s hands and accepting a glass when he handed it to her. 

Shiro handed a glass to Ulaz, who looked comically big on the small couch in his mother’s equally tiny living room. He was very mindful of his size (and claws), though, so there hadn’t been any accidents yet. 

Ulaz accepted the glass and examined the drink curiously. He leaned over toward Shiro, who was in the middle of a drink, and asked quietly, “What is this?”

“It’s called lemonade,” Shiro answered after swallowing. “It’s made from lemons, which are an Earth fruit, water and sugar.”

Ulaz furrowed his brow slightly. “The drink human children sell during the warm seasons,” he said.

Shiro chuckled, eyes crinkling from his smile. “Where did you hear that?”

“Lance,” Ulaz answered, finally deciding to try the drink now that he had mostly determined it wouldn’t cause him any harm.

Shiro’s mother, who had been watching her son and his… interesting partner with amusement, finally spoke up while Ulaz took his first taste.

“So, how did you two meet?” She asked.

Ulaz choked on his lemonade.

I’m celebrating, come send me stuff!

fruk-de-lys  asked:

Hello ;) First of all I wanted to say that I love your blog ! Thanks to you , I can discover new theories about the recent chapters. And it helps me a lot to understand what's happening to be honest xD The last chapter is so confusing after all ! Anyway, I saw recently a post on your blog with a Sbeastian gifset. And my attention was caught by this sentence : "Yes, my lord. I devote my entire being to you. Until the day… that lies become truth.” (1)

And I couldn’t helpt bu think that there’s a link, a connection with the recent chapter because of Ciel’s last question as he wanted to be sure that Sebastian can’t lie to him. I couldn’t help but think that maybe Sebastian is iding something from Ciel concerning the day when the contract has been sealed… I agree that he said that because of Ciel’s lie about Snake’s friends… But I think he was hinting to something more than that … And if it’s the case, given the sentence… (2)

Well it doesn’t sound like a good thing for our Ciel :/ Because Sebastian clearly stated that he’ll serve him until lies become truths… And it seems like the truth about the first day of the contract will be revealed soon. There will be a lot of problems and shocking revelations if the 2CT is confirmed … But I wonder what will happen to the relationship between Ciel and Sebastian. After all, even if he can’t technically lie, he can certainly hide facts without any problem. (3)

( We could have seen it during one of the recent chapters too. Sebastian seemed to hide an important information about Elizabeth to Ciel … He was about to reveal it to him but he finally chose to keep it for him)…Anyway, i’m probably wrong and I’m probably extrapolating too much xD. But I would love to hear your opinion about it ;) Have a nice day ;) (4)

Hi. :) Thanks for your nice words. <3 I’m really glad that you like my blog. ^^

Ah yes, that sentence from Sebastian in the Murder arc… I’m pretty sure he’s referring to Ciel’s words earlier here:

And this definitely feels like it could be a hint for the 2CT. If this theory is true, our Ciel has built a new life for himself based on lies. And since he has stuck to the lie about his true identity it has nearly become truth (he has the title as Earl, everyone around him thinks he’s the real Ciel, even his personality may have been adapted to the real Ciel’s,…).

While Ciel is talking about a lie becoming truth in the sense that no one will be able to tell that it’s actually a lie anymore, Sebastian could have meant something else by his words…

I kinda have three different ideas for what Sebastian could have meant:

1) Maybe he means here that one day the real truth will come out and Ciel’s lies will be revealed. And that might be the day their contract ends. (Of course, the contract states that it will end once Ciel’s revenge is fulfilled but maybe the revelation of Ciel’s lies and the fulfillment of his revenge are connected.) And maybe in this case this is already foreshadowing that Ciel’s lies will be revealed soon…

2) Lies can never be truth, so maybe this is Sebastian’s way to say he’ll forever be in Ciel’s service? (Or at least as long as Ciel is alive.)

3) Sebastian always says that he doesn’t tell lies. But if lies become truth he could technically say them, right? So his words could mean something like he’s Ciel’s servant until he can lie again? And since their contract says that Sebastian cannot lie that will only be the case after the contract is completed. Or maybe the fulfillment of the contract will cause a ‘lie’ to become ‘truth’ (whatever that may be) or something like that?

Anyway, until now Sebastian isn’t allowed to tell lies but yes, he can hide the truth from Ciel which he has done several times before. So it’s possible that he hasn’t told Ciel something that may have happened on the day their contract was formed. And this may be connected to the 2CT and the possibility of the twin being ‘alive’. Maybe that’s what Ciel has realized at the end of the current chapter which caused his terrified reaction.

If the 2CT is true, I think Sebastian knows this, so I don’t think the revelation would change anything for their contract. But it will definitely change a lot for our Ciel and the people he has lied to all this time. And the life he has built and which is like a protective shield for him would crumble down.

Have a nice day, as well! :)

I just… Can we talk about their fucking height difference for a moment..?