me.

[deanablack]

Thread count on the fabric of the universe must be insane

[deanablack]

If Harry's safety was in question and he was underage for the triwizard tournament, why did no one advise him to throw it away by botching each challenge?

[deanablack]

Sometimes prayers being answered looks like getting off work early, going shopping just because and trying out a bakery which turns out to be super yum

[my-dailydreams]

[lettersfromafairy]

Not every day needs to be conquered. Some days just need to be traversed. And traversing is already an act of immense courage when the heart is wounded. If today you only managed to exist, that was enough.

Letters from a Fairy

[remanence-of-love]

[deanablack]

Call me crazy but Ecosia browser's whole shtick was we would plant trees for n number of searches you make, right? So does their care for the environment only stretches till planting trees 'cause why the fuck do they have an AI mode?????

[deanablack]

Love is so sneaky. I wish I could string up a sentence more eloquent but there is no other way in which I can delineate how love literally sneaks up on you. One moment you're laughing, cracking jokes, being annoying, holding hands, walking together and the very next you find your mind screaming, "Oh, how I love you." And precisely because it takes you by surprise is why it is so scary. Balancing on the precipice of to say or not to say continues until either it slips from your lips or the timing is blatantly obviously correct for a confession of this proportion. There is no other word which would encompass how off-guard you are caught when your mind halts, almost short-circuits, and completely rewires itself because there is no way it is happening like this, so soon. But it does. It has happened and there is no going back after this. Because your mind is insistent, almost quietly but you feel it all the same. You know that even in the silent moments, the realisation sits with authority, having carved a throne of its own.

[loveridden1999]

doing things at the right age is literally a made up concept. you can start/pursue anything at any age. btw.

[loveridden1999]

remember remember

[deanablack]

I think it's beautiful that children play around tombs that house the remains of important people long gone and mostly forgotten. All we remember about them is that they were important. We do not think of their achievements when we see the tombs fallen prey to the chirping feet of different birds. We do not think of their role in ancient courts when we stroll in the gardens surrounding their final resting place. We do not think of the kings who would have stood in the exact same place as us as we look up towards the sunlight or see the light reflecting of the now almost derelict piece of architecture which now only resembles its once loud grandeur. We only think of now, here, the present. And coincidentally, that is exactly when we find ourselves the closest to everyone who would have initially razed down the ground to commemorate people who are no longer here. They thought of now, they thought of how important it was to build something which lasted ages even if the names for which it was built didn't. They thought of forever while never really realising how everything meant to withstand time would end up burying the ones who were meant to be immortalised. And maybe that's the biggest relief to someone who has left; peace. To be there, quiet even if the world moves on, around, smiling, laughing, marveling, never stopping all the while witnessing something which long ago did.

[deanablack]

They see the yellow

Sunlight, warmth, happy smiles

But what about the curtains blue

Shut tight, caging her in?

What about the bleeding red

Flowing from fingers, paper, every glance?

What about the blistering purple

Tripping and falling and breaking it all?

What about the silent black

That muffles screams begging for help?

[quotespile]

“Once a year, she remembers that she is insignificant. Then she forgets agains, because more than she is insignificant, she is forgetful.”

— Dave Eggers, How the Water Feels to the Fishes

[deanablack]

Insignificance would never matter to her as much anyway. She doesn't live for significance. Only trivial things, like hope, love, the stars had any meaning for her.

[deanablack]

The sun the warmth the birds the grass the breeze the laughter the calm the quiet the ristle of leaves the sun the sun the sun

[deanablack]

If I could hold hands with the winter sun, I would

[deanablack]

Funny how the writers keep calling the moon inconstant when she has been with me through it all

[deanablack]

Love shouldn't feel like begging. The whole point of love is that it exists despite everything. It exists on its own without provocation. If you have to ask for it, then it's not love. Love is given freely, willingly, repeatedly. Never asked for, always welcome regardless.

[deanablack]

"I know you think about me when you kiss him," the villain said. Not purred, for once. Just said. Like a fact.

"You wish he'd kiss you harder. You wish he was me."

Maybe it was the change in his tone. Not teasing or cocky or waiting in answer as if in a game of conversation that thrived on quick retorts. Or maybe it was just the fact that this had gone far too long for her liking.

She folded her arms, took one step towards him as if in a challenge, "You know what? I do."

Her tone matched his. She watched in satisfaction as the quiet resignation of his face gave way to something akin to surprise and then like a window struck by angry winds, snap shut again. If she didn't know him like she did, she would have missed it. Chalked it up to her imagination. But she had seen what she'd seen and there was no going back now.

The silence stretched between them like a thread far too fragile to be pulled, on the verge of snapping at any moment. She stayed right where she was, even as she saw him adjust his stance, lean heavily on the doorway and smirk at her.

"I knew it," he said with that smile of his that could have charmed just about anyone with eyes.

So it was going to be like that? Well, two could play this game.

"You didn't let me finish," she said. "I wish he was you and then I chide myself for thinking something so idiotic and so wrong that I-"

"Wrong?" The incredulousness in his voice echoed in the room which seemed suddenly too small. He was no longer smiling, and when had he stopped leaning on the doorway gotten so close to her?

"What about kissing me is wrong to you?" His voice was paper soft now.

"Everything," she said with an exhale as if there was no other way for the words to be out of her other than in a rush.

He waited for more, almost expectant for more as if he knew she'd continue.

"You lie, you leave, you do everything as per your whims and fancies. You do not care, you are selfish, getting through to you is like trying to pass through a wall of concrete which smells really good," he quirked an eyebrow at that but she rushed on, "You never want to have an honest conversation if it does not serve you in the end, you manipulate, you gaslight, you do just about everything that makes my blood boil."

"I smell good?"

She groaned in frustration and turned to leave. Maybe she'll lose this game after all.

"No wait," he said hastily.

She turned and he had taken a step closer to her. She saw him fiddling with his ring, then touching his sleeve, then his hair. Was he nervous?

"I am not denying the description you gave of me. I accept all of it, I was a liar, a manipulator, insanely selfish and was always hiding behind this wall I had built up for myself. I stray far from honest conversations because-," he broke off and looked away. She could see his chest heaving as if he had run miles. He put his hand in his hair as if to push them back, one strand fell on his temple, he ignored his, gaze back on hers.

"When you open up to someone, it's difficult. Expectations and hope and all of the things that make fools of us. That's why I don't even talk to anyone everyday. I cannot risk attachement."

"You talk to me everyday."

He was nodding already as if expecting her input. "Yes, I do. I accept all of the things you said I was but that's just the thing, I am changing. I know it is not fast enough and I know I still cannot speak plainly or be as vulnerable in conversation as you are to strangers on a daily basis but I am trying. You knew me then but then I left. Big mistake, one I cannot take back now. But these months, eleven months, have made me realise who I wish to be now. I wish to be like you. I wish to be someone you would maybe one day want. Not only to kiss, but to keep."

She just shook her head as if to clear it. He continued.

"I know you are with someone and while I do make remarks about how I want to ditch him in the river when you're not looking, I wouldn't ask you to leave. It's something the man you knew would have done in a heartbeat because this ache is far too much to take and he would have done anything to alleviate it."

"So you can taunt me, tease me, threaten murder of my boyfriend but you cannot tell me to leave him and choose you because it gives you the moral high ground?"

"No," he said, with a furious shake of his head, "fuck the moral high ground for all I care. I have never cared about what is right in the face of my own interest before, you know as much. But I care about your interest. And I don't think I will be offering you a good deal if I ask you to trade him for me."

She didn't have anything to say. How could you answer that? This is the most he had said to her in the fortnight they had started talking again. But what good had it done her?

"You cannot say all of this," she finally said, "it isn't fair for you to come whenever, say whatever you feel without a care of what's going on in my own life. What do you even expect after this?"

He stepped closer when there wasn't even any space to step into, his eyes never leaving hers. "I don't expect anything, as I said, I am learning. Maybe there will come a time when I become good enough for you and you become kind enough to accept me. Maybe. And then I will kiss you like you deserve."

His face was inches from hers, she could have counted his lashes if she hadn't been so distracted by the proximity. She knew he was talking in possibilities and contingencies and the future was as slippery as water flowing through a clenched fist. She hadn't missed a single 'maybe' in his little speech. But when he leaned closer, his breath fanning her face, she couldn't help but notice how his next sentence was nothing but surety.

"I will kiss you the way you wish me to."