Metaphor

fakecarousels:

We’ve met because of green.

It was, like the color, a fresh new thing.

A small leaf, fragile but firm,

The promise of a flower on the right term.

And then came beautiful blue.

By then we began having a clue.

It was soothing yet not serene,

Like blueberry pie with a lot of cream.

After a short while we became red.

Our fire within burning like a single thread.

Containing our loves, hopes, dreams and fears,

And all the words on the pages and actors in premieres.

It didn’t take long for us to turn gold.

The sparkles of each heart subsiding the cold.

A gilt armour of confidence surrounding ourselves,

Like a giant dragon or a sword made by elves.

We may feel weird and restless.

Fearful and insane.

But what is broken can always be glued.

I’ll be around you, no matter what hue.

(To you <3 mfranz rovsn pumpkin-pie)


"She is the goodness, well, she is the kind. She is awareness, and she is my smile. She met me standing, and she made me want to call her my sister…"

jaclcfrost:

the spell can only be broken by true love’s high-five

If something bad goes down, I think I’d be pissed at myself if I didn’t say this. I kinda wish something could happen between us, romantic-styles.

hollyoakhill:

GUEss wHICH SHow I wATCHED A WHOLE SEASON OF TOdAY

berningers:

amy brookheimer.

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suzie-guru:

Imagine Harry and Ginny a few months into their marriage and they’re so happy and in love and then one day they go shopping for food and household items and Harry just casually grabs certain items before Ginny hisses at him to "Check the prices, Harry, God! That bed set is far too expensive, we’re not going to have anything left to get the food with!" And Harry starts to laugh and say "We don’t have to worry about -" and then he stops and he and Ginny look at each other. And Harry realizes that she’s grown up having to measure out all her money and decide what she can and cannot have for a certain week or month or year. And Ginny realizes that she is actually no longer obligated to worry about money ever again. 

Imagine Harry and Ginny eating dinner together and Ginny’s telling him about certain meals her mum made and teasing him about how he wolfs everything down and "Honestly Harry, you’re worse than Ron!" and Harry retorts laughingly "well old habits die hard, I had to fight Dudley for meals all the time, you at least knew you were going to eat every day!" And Ginny’s grin starts to fade and she asks "You…you didn’t get to eat everyday?" And Harry realizes what he said and he changes the subject quickly and Ginny looks at the plates in front of him and resists the urge to pile on some more potatoes. And the next day Vernon Dursley’s car is egged. 

Imagine Harry and Ginny both suffering from night terrors and PTSD and agreeing that maybe going to that therapist Hermione recommended isn’t such a bad idea, and that’s how Thursday night became Therapy Night when they go out to dinner or to the pub after each session and agree that  they need to talk to some Healers about introducing these sessions since therapy is still widely seen as muggle nonsense in the wizarding world.

And Ginny murmurs over her fire whiskey that sometimes she can still hear Tom Riddle murmuring in her ear, and Harry whispers that he dreams about running after his mother and father and Sirius and Remus as they disappear behind the Veil in the Department of Mysteries and he doesn’t know if he wakes from terror or regret about not making it through. And they go back home and hold each other closer that night and both wake up with raging hangovers. 

I have no idea what I’m doing, but I know I’m doing it really, really well.

srthemes