trying to do something transparent and failing

you were hope.
all wrapped up, in this smile, and you made jokes.
jokes about your hands, your shoelaces, about the way your mind worked.
soon i think you were entirely make up of jokes, and laughs. 
oh your handsome hands, and strong shoulders, and that funny voice you did when you tried to be serious. But, how the timber of your voice would drop when we’d both be close to sleep. 

i wish i could get lost in that soft place beneath your ear, before your collarbone. 

I felt like placing my hand against your sternum would result in a gust of wind and your eyes would widen, and your lips would part, and you’d combust into a million feathers, soft and down.
Never to be collected again.
Like a secret spilled.

tell me a secret

Instead, I know now that had I pressed a singular part of my being against you, a terrible, tearing, cracking, and crumbling noise would have reverberated in the hollows of your ribcage into mine, like a bass beat rattling windows. Then instead of soft, you’d be like the brittle burnt wood that is charcoal, white and as soon as it gets wet it dissolves, runny. Back into the earth. Ash. 

are you laughing at me? I love hearing you laugh like that, til you’re out of breath. 

I see it as if I’m seated in a theater and it’s you and me up on the screen. You’re in the neighboring theater at the same movie, and while the actions are the same, the plot, the dialogue all the same. But, the angle of your lens is different.
Always different. 
And the dubbing it off.
Delayed a bit, as if you know what is going to be said before anyone’s lips move. 

this could be something, i’m not wrong. you feel it. i know you do. you feel it.

Your soundtrack is much less hopeful then mine in the second half of the film. The cinematography becomes a little more bleak, all your lens failed to show the sun that mine did. The rosy blushes we’re caught in yours, the way my fingers clenched, trying to grasp you. Instead, it caught the loneliness and whiteness of knuckles, the pale almost transparency of skin above veins.

I won’t tell how how to feel, or how to react. I won’t tell you it’s wrong to cry, or be mad.

I expected something, something better than all the other ones before. I thought that maybe this would be better, so much better than before. 

I shouldn’t have. I should have expected after what I did to the last one that hoped for something better with me. Because when you’ve handled someone’s heart poorly, it’s only right that the universe sends someone who will handle you just as halfheartedly. Or that’s karma right. Maybe I’m making excuses. Maybe I’m trying to justify me losing myself in something I knew lived on rocky ground.

i’d never tell you that. I’m only telling you this because I care about you, you know that right.

But, for a bit. I think we both expected something better for us. Better than before. 

i missed you today.

Have a transparent Forgetful! Your style of hair shading was really fun to try out, even if I failed! I did this a while back, around late October, so please forgive me for the weird disproportionate anatomy! I really do like her pose though! What I had in mind was her saying something along the lines of ‘Where am I and who are all these ponies?!’ Thank you for following me and staying with me even from the very beginning!

—— OMG!!! This is so precious~! :3 Thank you so much this is beautiful and I totally can see what you’re talking about with her! Keep up the great work and thank you for following me, you have a great blog going on!
i’m trying hard to make you love me (but i don’t want to try too hard)

[idk i had a shitty day & like four people asked me for jealous!carmilla so. (slightly-future & v established) hollstein. fluff. laura being great. carmilla being carmilla. fluff.]


i’m trying hard to make you love me (but i don’t want to try too hard)


you told me, ‘babe i only think of you’/ & i said, ‘all i’ve got is a bunch of sad stories’/ i told them all before the night was through/ & we cried, but we’re here now/ i wanna make you feel what i feel when i’m listening to love songs
—BROODS, ‘four walls’


She has moody days—or, really, moodier than usual, you guess—but you’re mostly used to them; you’ve been together for almost three years now, save for the few (stupid) months when Carmilla actually did run away to Iceland, so you’ve had your fair share of practice. Not that you blame Carmilla, though: most days, she’s kind and funny and smart, and sometimes the fact that she even lets herself love you, after all she’s been through, is profoundly remarkable. Plus, she’s often really sweet, remembering entirely random and weird anniversaries: last week you’d wakened to a cup of cocoa and some flowers on your nightstand with a slightly crumpled post-it that said, happy ‘we got really drunk & tried to make cupcakes but ended up eating the batter & frosting raw while we sat on the floor so we didn’t burn down our apartment building’ day. xx C.

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