or the writer boyfriend

I know everyone’s always talking about Bucky having a mass freak out when he finds out all the dumb shit Steve’s been doing while he was gone but at the same time I feel like the next time Steve jumps out of a plane with no parachute every single other avenger is gonna freak out while Bucky’s just standing there like

dear someone,

i have so many questions i want to ask you but just don’t know how. and because i know for a fact that my voice would break and tears would start streaming down my face if i were to ask you in person, i am writing you this letter. furthermore, i don’t think that you would even listen to me. these days you seem to be ignoring me as if i’m your worst enemy.

how? that would be my first question.
how was it so easy for you to go? to just leave me and not even look back.
why?
why would you leave and why would you leave like that? no explanation. no real goodbye. nothing.
was it even real? what we had, i mean. was it? because i’ve been dreaming so much about you lately that it seems like i can’t tell what’s real and what’s not anymore.

love, i wish you didn’t shatter my heart. i wish you didn’t make all these promises just to break them. i wish that you could have been honest with me from the beginning. honest about your intentions and your feelings for me.
the last time we were standing in front of each other, looking into your brown eyes made my knees go weak and my heart beat faster. how can someone feel so much and the other just not? i guess i’ll never know because i tend to give people all of me. always. with you it was no different. i gave you all of me, made you my favourite person in this shitty world and hoped that i would be your favourite too.

but this is farewell, my love. i hope that a part of you never forgets me. no matter how important i really was to you. i hope that wherever life takes you, it takes you someplace happy. you deserve it, i’m sure of that.

Love always,
e.

—  e.s. // dear someone.
find love. find love like the one you dreamed of as a five year old which involves flowers and dates and promises. and for a minute just forget what happened in your last relationship. find love like the one that existed in the fairy tales books your father used to read out to you everyday before bed. find love you believe in. find love you want to write stories and poems about. find love you’d tell your daughter to chase. find love you would choose without having second thoughts. find love you just don’t just have to settle for. find love worth waiting for. find love.
—  f i n d. l o v e.//nikitagupta
Long Distance

If hands
could reach
right through
this screen

I’d rest
your head
upon
my knees

I’d stroke
your hair
‘til you
believe

That we’ll
conquer
our hopes
and dreams

This year
like those
now too
shall pass

And though
at times
it won’t
be fast

We’ll close
the distance
with
our words

Which now
the world
will all
have heard

And…

If hands
that write
could bring
you close

I’d write
enough
to bear
us both

I’d write
until my
fingers
bleed

You must
believe
you’re all
I need

// A.S
Writing Prompt #101

“Who’s a good boy? You are! You’re a good boy!”
“Babe, I know you think it’s funny and all cuz I’m a werewolf, but that’s pretty patronizing. I just want to wash the dishes in peace.”

If people will be named after colors, I’ll call you purple. The kind of purple that melts in the sky when the sun is about to set and take a rest for awhile. The type of purple that makes my heart jumps a little and lits up the excitement in my eyes.

If people will be named after flowers, you’ll be my rose, no matter how painful your thorns. I’ll embrace you with my arms open wide and cage you in a warm tight hug. Even if it makes me bleed red that’ll surely tear my heart apart.

If people will be named after seasons, I’ll choose Summer among all of those four. You’ll be the sun that kisses my skin, and made my day goes lighter along the way. You’ll make me love the ocean more, and dance to groovy songs. You are the season which will never get tired of warming my heart when Winter tried to cool it with its cold breeze and snowy hands.

If people will be named after places, I’ll call you home. Not Paris, nor New York. You are the place that will always make my heart aches when I’m away—because I’ll surely miss you the moment we took our separate ways. You are the shelter that protects my heart, the one I will always run to no matter what I’m feeling. Happy, angry, sad, jolly, grateful or in love. Because you always understand and know the real me. You’ve seen me— on my ups and downs, and still accepts me— for who I am. I’ll name you after a place that doesn’t have a fancy name, yet will always be the one that will tell me that it’s okay to feel. That it’s okay to be me.

You will always remain in my heart no matter where I go.

And because people have identities, and so are things.

But you and your name will always be my favorite.

—  ma.c.a // Maybe I should Call You Mine
please, for just once in your life go for the guy who makes you happy and not the one who is a challenge.
go for the one who is cute and sweet, and not for the one who thinks that ignoring you will make things more interesting.
go for the one who will treat you like a queen, and not the one who thinks that you’re just like every other girl.
go for the one who is ready to choose you forever, not the one who can’t choose between you and several others.
go for the one who will make you see your worth and not the one who will make you question it.
—  e.s. // go for ‘that’ guy. please.
I know, you think my generation doesn’t give two fucks about anyone else but themselves. but honestly why should we. everyone we loved left us for someone better, someone with longer legs or bigger bank balances. everyone we respected disappointed us by weaving us in a myriad of lies. everyone we idolised betrayed us. in a generation where everyone is letting everyone down, everyone is too stressed or too anxious, do you except us to care about other people. do you expect us to protect people from drowning when we dont even know how to swim. do you expect us to save lives when we want to end our own. do you expect us to love when our own hearts have been shattered into pieces. do you actually except us to give fucks about anyone but ourselves.
—  i am sorry i am selfish
Being in love is great, don’t get me wrong. The kisses, the “I miss you” hugs, the cuddling, the love. Everything about falling in love is what makes a person remember how great it feels to have butterflies in your stomach and to have your heart beat so fast that your chest is going to explode. Being in love with someone is amazing. But being in love with your best friend, god that is fucking the best thing I could ever ask for. Being in love with the person that makes you laugh so hard that you nearly have snot coming out your right nostril and makes your stomach turn inside out. Being in love with the person that you share secrets with and gossip about people with, the person that says “fuck her baby, she don’t know a damn thing” kind of best friend. The person that you can lay next to at night and can’t sleep until 3 am because you were talking about how people can’t learn their damn differences between they’re, their, and there, and then laugh about it. The person that you argue with about what kind of food you want to eat, or who’s going to be the one to get up from the bed and turn off the light. The person that you can lick their face and they won’t look back at you with a confused face, but sticks their finger up your nose. The person that won’t only being the shoulder to cry on, but the shoulder that will bring you back up and make you stronger than before. The person that will tell you whats wrong and whats bothering them instead of being distant and ignore the situation. Loving someone that you can share memories and laughs with, god it is beautiful. Being in love is great, don’t get me wrong. But being in love with your best friend, that is the most wonderful thing I could ever ask for.
—  I’m in love with my best friend
I know that in the end I’ll probably just be a page, or maybe even a chapter in your book. Even if that’s the case, I hope I’ll be one you go back and read often. And as you run your fingers over our words,
I hope you smile.
—  Daren ColbertOur Story
Some nights I stare at blank canvas
And vacant pastel walls
Painting pretty pictures in my mind
Brighter than my own short falls

For should I ever stop dreaming
Of what the emptiest things could be
I might forget the magic touch:
To stay fearless and believe

—  I am a dreamer // A.S
How can you say i pushed you away when you were already stepping back?
—  c. k. reyes
we’re all sorry when it’s too late.
we’re all so fucking sorry.
but sorry doesn’t fix anything,
because words have already been said and things have already been done, and sorry is just another lame excuse for ourselves to feel better.
—  e.s. // ‘sorry’.

:for every writer on tumblr:

I hope you meet someone, someday, who makes you write about things that make you happy rather than unhappy.
I hope you meet someone, someday, who makes you write about love instead of heartbreak and people who chose to stay instead of leave.
I hope you meet someone, someday, who makes you want to write about the feelings that make you feel alive right now rather than the feelings that make you feel dead.

—  tenth of march

remember that time when vernon and joshua were on that english radio show k-popular and some fan asked vernon to say “i love you, [whatever her name is] jagiya” or somethin (point is it had the word “jagiya” in it) and then one of the hosts asked “would you ever actually, like, call someone jagiya?” and he said “probably not, would you?” and she said “gross, no”