the sky is blue because it reflects the ocean. Wishes are blue because they come from the bottom of your heart, where your secrets are.
A watched pot never boils. A good love is the faith that you don’t have to watch them closely; they love you and will love you without you worrying.
Bad things come in threes; good things follow if you just shift the leaves.
Stepping on cracks breaks your mother’s back. You can tell how many people love their mother because when you whisper that, their feet dance for hours after. Just in case, we skip to avoid hurting her.
A buttercup will show if you love butter. I make flower crowns when I am sad to remind the sun I cannot feel but I miss her warmth. She sits in halos of dandelions around the heads of people I weave dreams for. Kindness tastes like flower petals.
Let go if you love somebody; if it’s returned they’ll come running. I know this because when I call my dog, the forest calls too, but he comes home like good dogs do.
Imagine Tony’s face the first time he opens one of Iron Man’s fan letter. Imagine him still reeling from the aftermath of his public coming-out–with Pepper and Coulson and SHIELD and the board and pretty much everyone being pissed at him– and after a long, long day, Tony opens this letter and finds a crude drawing of his suit with a shaky, misspelled You’re my favourite hero, Mr Stark and he just- stares at it with this expression of utter wonder, traces the letters in silent awe, feels this rush of warmth and affection and happiness that settles in a soft smile on his lips.
“… I put my hand down in something soft and I looked down. I saw that kid every day for the next two years. Every morning I’d wake up he’d be looking down at me. What about you, Marcus? What do you see?”
“You want to know what’s in my head? Arguing. Mum and dad barking at each other like dogs. Both of them drunk. He’s swinging at her and she’s in a ball on the floor, trying to scoop her brains back in with both her hands. I’m yelling at him to stop, but he cracks her again. And now, now there’s blood coming out of her mouth like a fountain - I’m seven years old. I. I pull his poaching rifle off the back of the door and I shoot a bullet right in the middle of his throat and even as he’s going down his big bloody hands are trying to squeeze the life out of me - that’s for starters. I see this little unwanted boy stuck half-way up an oak tree all the other orphan bastards are trying to knock him down with bricks and balls to send him back to the infirmary so he can spend another night cutting patterns into his arms to send himself to sleep. I see this little boy in Mexico City. His neck is twisted all the way around and his mom is screaming at me from the doorway. I see a housewife in Seattle mixing bleach with tap water and telling her little girl that the water is holy so it burns her when it hits her skin. That is what I see when I close my eyes.”
ok but side note can we not use words like “threw herself on him” or god forbid slut for dot like ??? she got a little boozed up and got carried away; magnus stopped her and she respected that. you all rly do the most when it comes to woc lmao.