E sono stata zitta.
Mentre tutto dentro di me faceva a botte,
andava in frantumi, esplodeva,
fremeva per uscire..
io, semplicemente,
sono stata zitta.
—  Susanna Casciani
Ho tanti difetti, ma li porto benissimo.

1.) “Why’d they blow the play dead?”

2.) “How is that even a penalty?”

3.) “What is ‘goaltender interference’?”

4.) “How the shit is that goaltender interference?”

5.) “That was the weakest penalty call I’ve ever seen.”

6.) “What the fuck are you even doing ref?”

7.) “ThAt’S nOt A pEnAlTy YoU bLiNd FuCk.”

8.) “Shut up Pierre.”

9.) “I hate every single one of these players, why are you even in the NHL.”

10.) “I can’t actually believe I’m watching beer league players.”

11.) “Wait…. When did he get traded? Who even are these people.”

12.) “I hate hockey and the players hate me.”

13.) “Oh there’s gonna be a figh–false alarm, they just hugged.”

14.) “Our goalie is going to kill every single one of his teammates and I might actually help.”

15.) “What the actual hell is our coach even doing? Can he be fired pls.”

Bonus: “I miss hockey.”

Dopo di me non sarà più la stessa cosa, fidati. Non ho nessuna pretesa. Non ho nessuna particolarità. Gli occhi sono marroni, non ho mai la risposta giusta al momento giusto, i miei capelli sono insignificanti. Dopo di me, però, non sarà più la stessa cosa per te. Come faccio ad esserne certa? Ti sei guardato in giro? Di persone che amano come me ce ne sono rimaste poche, e di questo sono sicura. Non mi innamoro allo scoccare di ogni mezzanotte di sabati sera alcolici. Non mi innamoro mai, tranne una volta. Ti parlo, ti parlo tanto. Ti ascolto, ti ascolto tanto. Faccio l'amore piangendo e ridendo insieme. Forte, fortissimo. Lecco le tue dita e arrossisco. Penso a una serata tutta per noi e mi pervade quel senso di felicità che non mi apparteneva da molti anni, da quando ero piccola e mio padre e mia madre si baciavano davanti a me. Mi sforzo di capirti. Sono la tua amica con la gonna troppo corta per non provare un brivido. Ti faccio impazzire. Forse non mi ami ma io so di averti fatto impazzire. Con tutti i miei capricci, i miei sensi di colpa, le mie voglie, le mie perversioni, i miei occhi simili a tanti altri occhi ma così spesso languidi da volerci nuotare dentro. Tu sei pazzo di me. Adesso puoi anche andartene, e lo farai, eccome se lo farai, perché lo so che quelle come me fanno paura, eccome se ne fanno. Vattene, tanto mi sognerai per sempre. Tra vent'anni, una sera, ti ecciterai ancora pensando alla mia schiena nuda. Per te non sarà più la stessa cosa, dopo di me. Magari non mi ami, ma questo non vuol dire niente. Trovami una che ti guarda negli occhi come ti ci guardo io. E se la trovi mandala via, perché non sono io. Pentiti tra qualche mese e sappi che quelle come me amano così tanto da non essere capaci di perdonare.

Susanna Casciani. @laragazzache-volevavolare

More here

our little family pt.4 | park jimin

Originally posted by bwiseoks

Pairing: Father! Jimin + Reader

Genre: Fluff/Angst + parent au

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: You were just a pre-school teacher, a simple dream that came true as you always adored children. But what you didn’t know, was how one child and her very special father would change you dream forever.

Parts: 1 2 3 4


Reader’s POV

Readjusting your hat on your head, you rested a hand on your hip before wiping away the sweat that trickled down the side of you face. Who would’ve known that the day you had planned a field trip for the kids was the day of the record highest temperature your city had seen in the last decade.

Clearly you didn’t, because here you were with twenty sweaty, hungry and excited children all screaming and attacking you at once.

“Ms.L/N! Ms.L/N?! MS.L/N~” the children yelled, snapping you out of your trance, the heat making your head spin.

Looking down at the two children tugging at your skirt, they pointed towards the playground nearby and begged, “Can we all go play at the playground over there Ms.L/N? Please~” as they continued to put on their puppy faces, knowing well enough how irresistible they were to you.

Sighing, you nodded and immediately after, the rest of the children followed the two, running towards the playground and attacking the swings, slides and see-saws with all their might.

“Be careful! And don’t figh- Minjae-ah! Get off Eunhae!” you yelled in exasperation, picking up your bag and trudging your way to the playground ahead. Finding a spot in the shade, under a big tree, you set down your stuff on the bench beside it. 

Taking a walk around, you made sure all your kids were playing together, none of them hurting one another or themselves, at the least.

After you finished breaking up a fight over the sandbox, got a screaming kid off the monkey bars who was too afraid to let go and trying your hardest to calm down a crying child who accidentally stepped on an ant and killed it, you went to sit under a large oak tree, wanting to be away from the blinding sun.

Why are children so difficult to handle?  you helplessly thought to yourself as you momentarily laid back against the tree trunk, your eyes fluttering close.

Just then you felt something wet stain your arm.

As you peeked your eyes open, you looked up to see a crow sitting on a branch as it blinked at you, making you slowly look down to your right arm.

“You did not.” you gasped as you looked back up at the crow and down at the large pool of shit it left on your arm.

After blinking at your for a bit, almost mockingly, it flew away making you mutter a couple words you knew you shouldn’t have said with all these children around.

As you made your way to the bench where all your stuff were, you pulled out your water bottle and washed the sticky mess from your arm. Casually looking around the playground, you started to make a mental count of all your kids, when suddenly your eyes went wide.

It was as if it all happened in slow motion.

Keep reading

Sai cosa succederà a noi due? Ci cercheremo ancora.
Ci cercheremo nelle canzoni, nelle citazioni, nei libri.
Ci cercheremo tra gli sguardi della gente.
Magari la sera, che ci frega sempre.
Avremo voglia di scriverci, ancora.
Magari nei sogni, di entrambi.
Nonostante tutte le litigate,
nonostante le brutte parole urlate contro,
nonostante i “conte ho chiuso, sei fuori dalla mia vita”.
Ci penseremo, di nascosto, e fingeremo.
Fingeremo il mattino seguente di aver pensato ad altro.
Ci mancheremo eccome
E questa sarà la nostra punizione.
La punizione di non aver provato a tenerci
quando tutto tra noi stava per crollare.
—  Maria Auriemma