#marylene angst

[maliciouslittlewhiteboy]

mary living her dream as a fashion designer once she left and obliviated herself—even if she didn’t remember it being her dream because all she wanted was to create marlene’s concert outfits

[b4rty-r0s13r-w1ll-fck-y0ur-m0m]

But it's unrequited Marylene. But it's Mary kissing Marlene drunk at a party. But it's Marlene laughing it off, saying how weird it felt. But it's Mary's heart shattering into a thousand pieces as she forces herself to laugh along.

[starrysillhoutte]

“i wanted her to look at me, but she couldn’t pull her eyes away from you and your stupid hair”

but it’s marlene to sirius about mary

but it’s mary to james about lily

[lunarpadfoot]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

wrote a little piece about mary post marlene's death so if you wanna cry over marylene here you go <3

[loserboyfriendrjl]

marylene is bright, teary eyes and a love that was reciprocated, but not quite. marylene is lipstick stains and hiding hickeys with foundation. marylene is whispering in the dead of the night secrets no one else knows, but they never knew the real truth, never knew who the real girl, the real woman, in front of her was. marylene is falling in love with the person she put on a pedestal and with the person that would always be a second choice, with strawberry blonde hair and dark skin. marylene is side glances and stifled laughs and quiet breaths. marylene is an "i love you, but you're not her." whispered and a resigned "i know." marylene is loud cheering and drunken love and something sweet and tender they would never experience with anyone else. marylene is falling in love with someone you know could never be yours forever, but she's clinging to their love, in hopes she can keep it for them, just a little bit more. a few more seconds, a few more kisses, a little bit more love.

[starrysillhoutte]

unfortunately being normal about unrequited marylene is something that will never enter my thoughts process

[loserboyfriendrjl]

"do we still love each other?" mary asked, and she was pretty sure of the answer. their nights had been riddled with screaming and tear-stained cheeks, and lipstick-smudged make-ups. the room was dark, the only light being the moon, and maybe that was the point.

maybe mary hadn't been supposed to see marlene, maybe she had only been supposed to see the surface level of her.

would marlene ever love her as much as mary loved her? would her heart ever be able to hold a love so gentle, so vulnerable, a love that consumed mary to mere atoms? sometimes, mary wondered if anyone would love her. if anyone would ever look at her with eyes of gold and with a love in their heart, so pure, only for her.

she could only dream, and she could only yearn.

"yeah, mary, of course." marlene breathes the words out, so quiet that maybe, mary thinks, she thought that, if she said them louder, it'd break both of them.

maybe, if she had said it louder, mary would know that it was a lie.