promises keep them

and i can promise to be there for you
but i can’t promise that i’ll be happy for you
because when i make my promises i keep them
and “i swear” isn’t something that i throw around easily
so when i promised that i loved you
i wasn’t lying
because i don’t shove my infatuation down the throat of every person who makes me feel less dead
and i know you’ll swear to god that you meant it
but you also swore to god you were going to stay
and sometimes people make promises that they know they can’t keep
and sometimes they make them only because they sound good in the moment
and sometimes people leave when they said they wouldn’t
and sometimes people cry when they’re happy
and sometimes the world is a little bit backwards
but “i promise” was never something i said without thinking it through
so when i promised that i’d always be waiting
i meant it
—  you promised me forever, but you’re not here
The forehead poke is NOT positive and has never been.

It has always been used to create distance and followed by false promises.

Itachi himself acknowledged it.

When Itachi died for good, after Sasuke knew the truth, he did NOT poke his forehead. There was a lot of emphasis placed on this. Kishimoto made it look like Itachi was going to poke him but then he pushed their heads together, instead. The way he decided to drag out the process made you pay attention to Itachi’s movements and notice this difference. He made it as obvious as possible that the forehead poke was NOT something good and the goal should be to move beyond that point. 

That being said…

Sasuke creates distance between himself and his “family”. He cannot keep his promises to them. They see it as positive because they don’t understand what it represents. There’s no reason that Sasuke would have taken that and completely changed the meaning, it’s used for the same reason. It’s not malicious but it shouldn’t be romanticized. Calling this his “ultimate expression of love” is just plain idiotic. 

You know, Gabrielle leaves a very long trail of broken hearts after her. Guys she’s always promising to remember, come back for, guy’s she’ll meet up again with one day. All people who probably die a lot sooner then she does. 

I’m just imagining all of them hearing in the afterlife that Gabrielle died and is finally going to join them, and they’re all eagerly waiting at the entrance to the afterlife to see her and see which one of them she loves the most. Which one she calls by name first, which one she’s the most eager to see. 

Only she gets there, doesn’t remember any of them, barely even looks at them, and instead runs right past them to the woman standing a couple of yards away under a tree the hoard of men had noticed but never really thought about. And they all watch as the woman steps out of the shade and it’s Xena! And the men, for a moment, are calmed, because of course Gabrielle would want to see her closest friend, would want to greet her first. That doesn’t mean Gabrielle won’t immediately turn back around and welcome one of them as her lover, like she promised all those years a-

Only for all of them to become immediately disillusioned as Xena and Gabrielle embrace and kiss, probably the most passionate thing many of them have ever seen in their lives. And they all realize that they never had a chance with Gabrielle, no matter what she might have said all those decades ago, because she was always destined to be Xena’s, even from the start. 

to new writers:

My roommate and I were just talking about this, so I apologize, but I am going to go ahead and give out some UNSOLICITED ADVICE.

New writers (or old writers or any writers, really, but especially the new ones):

Please know that every. single. writer. in the history of time and space has, at MORE than one point, sat back, thought about what they just wrote, stared at the screen for a long time, and said to themselves:

Dear god above, This. Is. Stupid. 

Sometimes it comes early on. You’re only a couple thousand words in and you’re like: Wait, what is this? This will never work. Gotta scrap this one. No good. No, sir. Maybe my next idea will be better. I’ll move on to that. Or, no, no I’m never going to be a writer. I’ll leave it for someone else. I’m done.

Sometimes it comes in the middle, when you realize that you ARE in the middle and suddenly your beginning is horrifically boring and your ending doesn’t matter and holy shit, this is terrible. 

And, sometimes, it’s right at the end. When you’re almost done and it’s 24k and you’ve been nonstop writing for THREE DAYS (or worse, six months) and your hands literally hurt - like stabbing pains up your arms hurt - and you suddenly realize that this ENTIRE fic is the worst thing to ever happen to literature. It’s too long and too jumpy and switches styles at random and that is three days of your life you’re never going to get back. You look at it and think- what am i doing right now? 

Also, more bad news, this moment might happen MORE THAN ONCE. Hell, it might even happen when you’ve already posted it and people seem to like it.

I don’t know why this happens. But, rest assured, every single fic or story or poem or song, you are going to have this moment. And it’s going to seem like this is a clarifying moment. Like the rest of the time you’ve been kidding yourself and THIS is when you can finally see the truth. That you are not a good writer and this is not a good story and this is a waste of time.

Here is my message to you: THIS MOMENT IS NOT TRUE. It is not some secret you’ve been keeping from yourself. It is not your moment of clarity. It is not a divine message from above that you are wasting your time. IT IS NOT TRUE.

Don’t let it beat you. Don’t stop writing. Don’t be afraid to write. Don’t be afraid to post. Push forward and write what you love and your. work. is. not. stupid

Your. Work. Is. Not. Stupid.

It’s just a moment. And fuck that moment.

Get out there and write.

anonymous asked:

you're disgusting for liking bts. vixx deserves real fans

??????????????

BTS is amazing, their music is really nice and I respect them a lot.

But don’t you dare come into my inbox and tell me this rubbish because I literally blog about VIXX 200% of the time. 

I spent 3 hours a day voting for VIXX during the SMAs and GDAs, I spent a huge amount of time voting for them on FUSE, I even check my phone hourly for the Gaon Charts app and to vote for VIXX. Your comment obviously upsets me and at the same time, I know it shouldn’t but this will be my only response to you. 

BTS and VIXX are FRIENDS at the end of the day, it’s about time you stop this bull crap. Why can’t we just be friends and support each other without bringing other people down. 

Goodbye.

Please don’t break me in half.
—  You can have my patience. You can have my rowdy emotions. You can have my arms. You can have my legs. I’ll be open. I’ll run with it. You can have my smiles, even the fake ones. You can have my pride. You can be my shadow and I’ll be yours. You can be my morning and I’ll be your night. You can have my thorns and I won’t prick your fingertips as you use them to write. You can have my eyes, I want to wake up to this. You can have my promises, I plan to keep them. I have to do that much for you. I know I’m forward and direct, but you asked for this. Trust. Truth. Honesty. It’s all the same. You can have it all. Every little piece of me that has been broken. You can be my everything.

“ b a y l e y aesthetic

                          – the sun sets to always rise again

to navy boy who wrote this: http://dearmyblank.tumblr.com/post/157151957509/dear-girl-with-the-glasses-writing-to-a-jason-that,

firstly i would like to let you know how happy i was to scroll through and find a letter addressed to me. i assumed that everyone had forgotten about both me and my letters by now. to know that i left somewhat of a lasting impression on someone is nice.

it certainly has been awhile since i’ve written. i did send a few letters that never went through, but i haven’t been writing nearly as much. i promised i would keep sending them in and i have no plans to stop writing. i guess i’ve just been at a loss for words and i didn’t want to disappoint anyone that was hoping for a happy ending.

to just be completely honest, things with jason aren’t going very well. or really, going at all.

he is so considerate and kind and he believes that he loves me. but i was feeling more like he loved the idea of me, the way that he thought i would be, should be. and i was feeling… different.

i was honest with him and told him that i was feeling a little smothered because i’m not as affectionate as he is and i’m not as open as he wants me to be. so he backed off some. but that didn’t fix anything like i’d hoped. he wants me to talk more. he wants me to be upfront about my emotions. he wants me to be one hundred percent entirely comfortable around him. i’m a very guarded, awkward, uncomfortable person and i don’t think he understands that. he tried to be patient with me but i felt myself going distant and it wasn’t the kind of distance that pouring my heart out to him could fix. it was weird. like i stopped feeling as deeply as i had before. like i just stopped feeling at all.

and it wasn’t one of those random mood swings where i hit a low out of nowhere that i have sometimes. this was different. i waited for it to go away but it didn’t and it felt unfair for him to keep looking at the future and for me to be looking for a way out.

i don’t know if it was timing, a lot of things have changed in my life recently, or if it was just me, as i feel like i’ve been changing a lot this last year too. or if we weren’t as compatible as we both wanted us to be. he should probably be with someone that enjoys talking, someone that wants to cuddle all the time and tell him how awful their day was instead of just shut down and ignore any kind of human emotion they may be feeling. i don’t know. i don’t.

i wanted to have a happy ending to give you, to give all of you. i imagined being able to write in a few years about a proposal and a wedding and our married life and how cool that our story was and i would even have the letters to document it. but the things that i imagined for us seem too far out of reach now.

i guess we both fell too hard, too fast. i feel bad because i hurt him, i feel bad because i think i should have known things were going to end this way. i let myself believe they could be different because i wanted a chance with the boy i watched stock bananas every thursday from afar. i let myself think that i could fall for a stranger and not shy away when things actually started to get serious. that was my fault. and i feel bad because i had support and kindness and encouragement from so many people on this blog and i feel like i somehow let them all down.

so i’m sorry, to everyone that was rooting for us. i’m really, genuinely sorry. i wanted to believe that it would work too. i wanted to believe it so badly.

maybe in the future we’ll have a chance. or maybe not. we’re trying to be friends and i hope that can work. he’s giving me space and time right now to think things through, so we won’t be irrational or angry or upset when we talk again. i’m planning on messaging him in a few days even though it hasn’t been quite two weeks since we made that deal. he still wants another chance to go out again but right now, i don’t know what i want. i just know that i don’t want to hurt him anymore. and i feel like i would just be giving him false hope if i made any sort of promises. i almost wish that he hated me so he could move on and be happy and i wouldn’t feel like i had ruined his life or something.

i’m sorry, navy boy. i didn’t mean to pour everything out to you. i’m sure you were just expecting an “everything is going well, thanks” letter and you got all this instead. i hope you don’t feel like you have to read it all. and i hope that everything in your life is good and you are happy. and i hope things work out with your solider too. she sounds lovely.

thank you, so much, for the well wishes. 

and just so you know, writing to me is never a long shot. as long as i’m still breathing, i will be reading the letters sent in and writing some of my own.

- the girl with the glasses.

2

Did someone ask for Hinata!Caeldori and Rhajat!Kanna? No? Oh well.

(There was less to work w/ on Kanna, forgiveth me)

Also, I didn’t do Subaki!Hisame because their color pallets are already pretty similar, see? :3c 

Coincidence??

G/T idea:

I’m such a sucker for scenarios where a giant is ‘owned’ by a mistreating circus or someone who sees them as an animal or beast, and a tiny/human who crosses the evil 'owner’ gets thrown in the giants cage or something- they’re terrified because they think the giant will hurt them!

But instead the giant softly helps them up and protects them, holding them close and promising they’ll keep them safe- eventually the tiny helps them escape and they run off for a better life together!

the plates are stacked neatly in the cupboard. laundry piled in the hall. the door hangs off its hinges. the door is locked. the door is kicked in. the door doesn’t exist. you are upending all the indoor plants. I am stealing your books off the shelves, pinching the ones I liked best, hoping they won’t always remind me of the room we built ourselves to scratch this seven year itch. two people cataloging the end of things. over and over and over. 

there is one window that looks into the room where we tucked away the best versions of ourselves and promised to keep them safe. we never check in on them anymore. we had a few solid chances at our own great love and passed all of them up in favor of simplicity. 

now I am on the phone and you are on the phone and both of us are on the phone with other people. which, in this poem, is code for fucking other people. which, in this poem, is code for living on different continents. and your laugh still sounds the same and the moon still hangs and the sun still rises and everyone else seems to be getting along just fine. 

I seem to be getting along just fine. a summer cold picked up at the airport. a weekend bag. temporary roots in three new cities. part of me is still stuck in that room. I am putting books into boxes and you are apologizing about the plants. we tried and we tried and we didn’t really try at all. 

everything is happening at the same time and this is the best we could come up with. this is the loop we got stuck in. both of us always pinned at the waist. both of us always six steps past leaving. left. gone.
—  Trista Mateer