bitter lies

I’m sorry to be a downer and this isn’t ~about~ anything but I’d just like to remind everybody that hockey boys ARE gross and WILL disappoint you.

I… just get worried? Sometimes? My friends get all mushy over some NHL kid with bad teeth soft hands and a face like an unfortunate potato all “MY SON” and “THIS BOY” and I’m just like… pls do not get your heart broken when you are reminded that he is an overpaid spud marinated during his most tender years in a bath of economic exploitation and toxic masculinity

Pls remember that the actual good thing here is you and your joy in the things you experience and the meanings you create. Not him or his team.

Because if you depend on him to be good and pure and upstanding and valiant, well, there is a lot of social pressure on him not to be, and he is only human.

TJLC has taught me how to overcome heteronormativity, analyze historical context for literary works, and appreciate the creative choices and subtextual meanings of cinematic art

it has also taught me to automatically assume that everything a writer says about their work is deliberately misleading

 [Still I Rise By Maya Angelou] ••• 

“You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, 

You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise. 

Does my sassiness upset you? 

Why are you beset with gloom?

 ’Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells Pumping in my living room.

 Just like moons and like suns, 

With the certainty of tides,

 Just like hopes springing high,

 Still I’ll rise.

 Did you want to see me broken?

 Bowed head and lowered eyes?

 Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

 Weakened by my soulful cries? 

Does my haughtiness offend you? 

Don’t you take it awful hard 

’Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines

Diggin’ in my own backyard. 

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes, 

You may kill me with your hatefulness, 

But still, like air, I’ll rise.

 Does my sexiness upset you? 

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I’ve got diamonds 

At the meeting of my thighs? 

Out of the huts of history’s shame I rise 

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain I rise 

I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide, 

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide. 

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear 

I rise Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear 

I rise Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, 

I am the dream and the hope of the slave. 

I rise I rise I rise." 

I should’ve known.
I should’ve guessed, when he started saying all of those sweet words, those compliments, those declarations of love uttered without a single hesitation, without a single tremble in his voice.
I should’ve known he was not sincere, he was just rereading a rehearsed script. Because true love doesn’t express itself so fluently, with such ease. True love is blurry, sweaty, nervous and shy.
He was never any of it.
He asked if I loved him with a hint of defiance in his eyes and a mischievous smile, and he was never worried about the answer. He knew it already, and to be honest, it didn’t really matter to him whether I loved him or not, and God knows I did.
He didn’t ask out of concern, but out of pride. He wanted to be sure. He wanted to prove himself that he had succeeded once more, with one more girl, that his charms hadn’t lost any of their brightness, any of their power, that he was still the master of the game.
I was just another name on his never ending list.
—  And now your script is hidden in your pocket once again, for you to whisper the words in her ear
3

Whenever you saw Emma and Hook around each other either alone or with a larger group, your mood declined heavily. You could go from an idle conversation with Snow and Hook, to complete silence when Emma showed up. In your mind you couldn’t compare to her ocean blue eyes, lovely blonde locks, and her bright smile that lit up an entire room. No, in your mind you weren’t even on the scale from one to ten compared to Emma Swan.

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Blankets [JungkookxReader] (Pt 1/5)

Originally posted by thedesire

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (Feat. Yoongi, Jimin, Taehyung)

Genre: Romance/Angst/Smut BadBoyAU!

Summary: A one night stand turned into various visits. No strings attached, or at least that is what you told yourself every time he walked through the door. His first name was the only thing you knew, besides having memorized every sensitive spot that laid upon his skin.

One night you catch a glimpse of his world. One that you had never had the temptation to roam on your free will. Jungkook though was addicting, and your craving for his touches led you to venture into his life. This new found world offering you a freedom you didn’t know existed. The consequences of your actions instead of taking you a step closer to him, formed a barrier. Jungkook’s sweet touches turned rough with rage, his passionate kisses turned possessive, and his comfortable casual talk went to promises/lies of a forever. 

Rating: M [Language, Strong Scenes, Drug usage, Sexual Scenes](Will add a warning prior if that chapter will contain any smut scenes)

Author’s Note: This was supposed to be a One Shot, but after I started writing it I couldn’t stop. After it got way too long I decided to divide it into 3 sections. I am hoping to finish this in about a week. I almost have it completely finished, just need to edit it. I hope you enjoy it :)

Not 100% edited yet. Might have minor mistakes :)

Feedback is greatly appreciated!


You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies.

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

-Still I Rise, Maya Angelou

Those eyes that showed you galaxies that forever were going to be out of reach. Those lips that peppered little glimpses of heaven all over your skin. Those fingers that traced every curve of your body as if you were made of the most fragile glass. Those strands of hair that you held onto with  dear life when he was rocking into you so deep that you were scared to spiral down into an endless abyss if you let go. Those promises of forever and always whispered in between the sheets every night. They were all but a mere figment of your imagination. Now you know better.

Those eyes were grounding you to the floor not taking you to outer space. Those lips were damning you to hell as you let them set your core ablaze. Those fingers were strangling your neck, stealing your breath away. Those strands of hair were not for support, they were but a loose rope that would let you fall. Those promises were lies. Forever and always did not exist. The only thing real were those blankets, where your sweaty bodies had entangled and connected over and over again.Those blankets were now entangled with last weeks takeout in the deep depths of trash, along with the memories of haunting smiles. At least that is what you liked to tell yourself. That was probably a lie too.

 

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anonymous asked:

I finally watched baahubali 2. I cant rn. I cried like there was no tomorrow!

Ahh, I’m glad you watched the film anon ji. As for the crying… what was there really to cry about? Well other than the fact that Amarendra Baahubali, the true and rightful king of Mahishmati, was brutally murdered in the prime of hiS LIFE BEFORE HE GOT TO SEE HIS UNBORN CHILD AND HIS AMAZING WIFE DEVASENA BARELY GOT TO HOLD SAID CHILD FOR 2 MINUTES AFTER FINDING OUT ABOUT SAID DEAD HUSBAND. AND THEN SHE WAS CONFINED TO A LIFE IN CHAINS FOR 25 LONG YEARS INSTEAD OF LIVING HER DESTINED LIFE AS REIGNING QUEEN BECAUSE THIS WORLD IS A CRUEL, CRUEL PLACE AND nO- NO.. MAHENDRA, WHO IS A SHADOW OF WHAT HIS FATHER WAS, AS THE CONSOLATION-PRIZE-KING DOES NOT RECONCILE THE FACT THAT AMARENDRA BAAHUBALI, THE TRU…

My Spellbound Heart

I actually finished it! Soulmate AU for the first day of trope week @jilyfest

word count: 5.2k 

ffnet | ao3

“What kind of person could they be if our shared mark is a pair of antlers on my arse?” asks Lily, craning her neck to stare at the ink, stark against her pale skin. No matter how hard she glares at it, it remains there.

Behind her, Marlene snickers. “It’s not on your arse,” she says, barely managing to keep the laughter out of her voice, “It’s right above your arse.”

She directs her glare to the blonde who still had tear tracks down her cheek from the initial bout of laughter. “Because that makes things so much better,” she snaps, “Who the fuck thinks ‘hey a pair of antlers as a tramp stamp is great idea for a soulmark’?”

“Maybe it’s a symbol for something,” she says, winding a lock of hair around her finger before prodding the mark once more. Lily squawks and jumps away from her while the other girl just grins wickedly. “Maybe you’re soulmate likes it up-”

“If you don’t want me to cut off your tongue you’ll stop right there,” she warns. Lily glances back at the mirror, bemoaning the appearance of the mark. “If I ever meet this fucker I’m punching him in the dick.”

“Or the tit,” Marlene chirps, “Don’t let heteronormativity rule your life.”

“Shut up Marlene.”

-

Soulmarks weren’t rare, but they also weren’t exactly common. It was like a sunshower, a blue moon, a six petal flower on a four petal bush. Different, unexpected, but not rare.

It’s a topic tied into all their subjects; historians told the stories of those who shared the bond, the power they held when stood side by side, waging war and ruling men, the poets spoke about the special brand of intimacy shared only between lovers of the kind, a bond that ran deeper than anything else, while science tried to prove it with fact, a genetic anomaly, perhaps natural selection taking place, making it easier to find a desirable mate. For centuries they’ve been attempts to explain them- platonic, romantic and in between- but no one can ever agree and soon it just became a thing, accepted just like that.

(It falls in between questions of why do you taste like heartbreak and ash?how does a person manage to have galaxies in their eyes? what is that pain in my chest when you leave me?)

(There’re no answers and one answer. Love, the most dangerous thing of them all.)

They all learn about it, but learning and experiencing are two completely different things. They never tell you that you feel the pain of it appearing, like a million needles pressed into your skin at the same time, the place where it grows warm and irritated, and it leaves you feeling as though there’s a gaping wound in your chest for days.

They never tell you that remain hurting and raw, craving something that you never had in the first place. A kind of want that drives you mad.

It happened while she was in class, carrying out a chem lab with Marlene and the wave of pain hit so hard, so intense, that she dropped a beaker of sulphuric acid and felt like her spine was being cleaved in two, from the base up. She told a lie about cramps through clenched teeth, and Marlene helped her hobble out of class, almost collapsing on the cool bathroom tile as another wave of pain passes.

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You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

—-

Still I Rise

Maya Angelou, 1928 - 2014

—-

Graphic - Kevin Sloan

In honor of International Women's Day I'd like to present you with the poem "Still I Rise"by Maya Angelou
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

—  Maya Angelou
methods of destruction

au: she’s gone, and she’s never coming back.
warnings: major character death(s), suicidal ideation, violence
word count: 1951


[day 1]

He breathes.

His throat burns with the weight of the heavy air that doesn’t want to leave his lungs, and his eyes are unfamiliar and salt-soaked. He feels like a stranger in this grieving body, a numb observer behind the panic and tears. His unsure hands shift from tugging at his hair to gripping his neck with enough intensity to crack bone. He glances at her, horrified to look but unable to stop.

She doesn’t move from her cocoon of blankets, mouth parted slightly, hair sprawled out on her pillow. She could’ve been sleeping, if not for her half-lidded, glassy stare.

“It was me?” He asks her softly, voice wavering. “You’re fuckin’ joking.”

Natalie doesn’t reply, just keeps looking at him with unseeing eyes.

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She’s trying, you know. She’s trying to be more honest with herself.

When people ask her if she’s doing fine, instead of faking a smile and halfheartedly nodding, she tells them that life isn’t easy but she’ll come through. When she’s around the ones she can’t trust, instead of ignoring the anger that’s raging inside her and pretending that she can get along with them, she stays away. When she’s alone at night and loneliness is in the mood to swallow her being, instead of trying to convince herself that everything is going to be okay, she lets out a good cry until she falls asleep.

It will never be easy when you’re aware of the fact that everyone can turn their back to you completely at the least expected moment. She knows it. She knows how people could walk away from you even when you thought you’re the closest with them. She knows how the sweetest words could be the most bitter lies. She sees people’s faces as masks that could be removed any time they want them to. She just can’t trust people anymore.

So the least that she could do is trust herself. She walks through the roads alone and get herself through the worst nightmares. She finds ways to distract herself from her misery and she never bothered other people. And when she knows she can not do it anymore, she admits it to herself and break apart. She doesn’t expect anyone to put the pieces back together. She doesn’t wait for someone to hold her as she does it. She tends her own wounds until they are fully healed. Then she goes out and try to live again.

Sometimes, she looks at the world and wonder why no one ever fought to be on the spot next to hers. She thought, maybe there is something wrong with her. Maybe, she’s just someone they run to before they figure out where they want to go. She was never the destination. She’s always the stopover. Surely, this makes her unhappy but she’s careful not to be desperate about it. Being alone could be depressing but she knows that there are other things in her life that she should fix.

At the end of the day, she just wants to be at peace with the world. She longs for silence and understanding. She just wants to exist freely. It doesn’t matter if she’ll be by herself for the rest of her life. She realized that her main goal is to be happy, with or without someone special.