i am now one of the fish in the sea

shaddowwolf2  asked:

Has anyone tryed to flirt with Kara before while you guys were together

Ichi: …It happened once before I got pregnant…

*11 months ago*

UFF: He’s my Kara-chun! He’s my boyfriend! If not I’ll die!!

Ichi: Tough luck! He’s MY boyfriend now!

UFF: You?! You’re just another fish in the sea, I’m the one he wants!

Ichi: Like hell you are, bitch!

UFF: I am!! You’re just jealous that I’m better than you!! Why don’t you go back to the shelter he picked you from?!

*1 week later*

Kara: Um honey? Are you sure it’s fine to go out now? She could be waiting outside.

Ichi: Don’t worry, she’s not a problem anymore.

Kara: Are you sure?

Ichi: I’m sure of it.

Loving me with my shoes off
means loving my long brown legs,
sweet dears, as good as spoons;
and my feet, those two children
let out to play naked. Intricate nubs,
my toes. No longer bound.
And what’s more, see toenails and
all ten stages, root by root.
All spirited and wild, this little
piggy went to market and this little piggy
stayed. Long brown legs and long brown toes.
Further up, my darling, the woman
is calling her secrets, little houses,
little tongues that tell you.

There is no one else but us
in this house on the land spit.
The sea wears a bell in its navel.
And I’m your barefoot wench for a
whole week. Do you care for salami?
No. You’d rather not have a scotch?
No. You don’t really drink. You do
drink me. The gulls kill fish,
crying out like three-year-olds.
The surf’s a narcotic, calling out,
I am, I am, I am
all night long. Barefoot,
I drum up and down your back.
In the morning I run from door to door
of the cabin playing chase me.
Now you grab me by the ankles.
Now you work your way up the legs
and come to pierce me at my hunger mark

—  Anne Sexton, Barefoot Poem

snewts  asked:

Please help me settle a heated debate over what kind of deep-sea fish Quark and Odo should be drawn as. Original idea was Quark as an angler fish, which is especially good and ironic given what male and female angler fish are like, and Odo as a blobfish, but now it's getting complicated with batfish and sea pigs and goblin sharks and frankly I am overwhelmed and need expert advice on this very dumb question, please help

This is the most perfect thing to put in my inbox, thank you. 

My kneejerk reaction for quark is a humpback anglerfish, since it has that classic squat-and-toothy look, but batfish are SUPER GOOFY LOOKING so maybe he’d be one of those instead? I’m torn on odo, too, because while blobfish aren’t nearly as weird looking when they’re photographed in their element, being a fish out of water is odo’s whole THING. so maybe he IS that deeply sad deflated blobfish?

this has mostly alerted me to the fact that i’m not nearly as knowledgeable about deep sea fish as i’d like to be

And It Goes Like This

A Puck x Brian fic for @skatzaa :) I hope you like it, it’s a long time coming Mercedes <3

In my father’s boat, the story goes like this:

There is a boy who loves a girl long before the nets are cast when he is six. She fusses over knots and my father shows her how to tie them with quick, stubby fingers. She has dirt under her nails and I am holding my rod out for a fish and when I catch it it pulls me splashing down into the water.

In Palsson’s, the story’s splattered with flour. It goes like this:

We are nine by now. I want a November cake and it sticks to my throat when I swallow. She thumps my back. The riders come storming down to say that Eirnin Kendrick has been trampled on the beaches. We have to ask Palsson what the word means, and he gives us cakes to distract us.

Outside, later, she tells me she’d spit on my grave when I died, and I think that I’m a little in love with her. Her hands are sticky from the cakes.

Her mother teaches me how to play chess and the story goes like this:

Her mother explains the rules while my heart watches, blowing on her hot chocolate so hard it splatters against my cheek. She sticks out her tongue when her mother tsks, and they both laugh. I do too even though I am annoyed. I move my knight forward, and when her mother corrects me, she laughs and drops her mug and her hot chocolate floods over my feet.

In the classroom the story is awkward, and it goes like this:

She grew up during the summer, and I missed it while on my father’s boats. She is taller than me. We are fourteen and she is taller than me and I don’t know how to talk to her. I try to say something about fishing, but I flounder. And class is starting, now.

We have not seen Sean Kendrick since the first race he won. I don’t think we’re going to. They keep his desk open just in case. We both look at it with fascination.

In Gabe’s eyes, the story is a determined one. It goes like this:

I am sixteen now and so is she. She is Puck through and through, as clearly as if she’d been dyed Puck by Dory Maud or someone else. I leave her seashells and flowers and fish on her doorstep, and Gabe catches me one day. I have just put down a necklace and he leans on the open door and doesn’t say a word, just raises his eyebrows in that way he has. The way that makes you feel guilty, somehow. He asks me my intentions for Puck. I smell like the sea, but I tell him.

In Fathom and Sons, the story is as tense as conversations with Elizabeth. It goes like this:

We are eighteen and she’s telling me she’s racing. That Gabe is leaving and that she’s racing to save the house and Finn and herself. That she might die, and if so would I please take care of Finn, he’s more fragile than he lets on, please Brian, and then I reach out a hand palm up and she takes it. I tell her, I will not let your brother starve, and she bites down a sob so hard she bites her tongue and makes it bleed.

On the sands, the story is a tense one. I whisper it over and over and it goes like this:

That she and Sean Kendrick have a plan to make it work, to play this race in their favor. They will tie somehow or Puck will take the money for the house and will help Sean somehow or something else; the island works for them, somehow. Puck rides wearing the necklace I gave her around her neck and Thisby’s colors around Dove’s.

They will make it. I sing this like it’s a prayer to keep the sea calm, like the ones we sing on the boat, and it must work; she’s over the finish line in first place even with the skirmish with Mutt Malvern, and then she’s running to me because my feet have moved without me having noticed, and then she kisses me. She and Sean take their photos bruised and salt-stained and she kissed me.

Father Mooneyham looks at us over his glasses, Peg Gratton tapping on the horn of his sin-red car. From their eyes, the story goes like this:

He has agreed to marry us. I ask him about modifying the traditions and he goes white, but Puck smiles. The Father turns to compose himself. She says, We can ask Sean, and Father Mooneyham walks away as fast as he possibly can. He is old, so it’s not very fast.

We are on the cliffs now, and Sean marries us. Finn kisses us both on the cheek twice and the story goes like this:

I feel like I could catch the horizon line in both hands. Puck hugs Sean, and he traces a circle on her back with his thumb. He says, Do you know what to wish for? and she looks at me and smiles. She says, Yes.

In Dory Maud’s arms the story is crying and screeching. It goes like this:

That’s Puck’s chin, I say, and her cry, and then Puck bumps my arm. Sean bumps his chin on my shoulder and hums in agreement. Puck bumps him too.

Dory Maud says, He’s perfect, and Finn whispers to me that she’s crying. We tell them we named him Jonathan and they are quiet at that.

Sean asks us when we think he can ride a horse and he and Puck debate it. Finn mentions a soft dessert he can make us and Dory Maud just looks at our son in her arms like she’s holding the world.

Jonathan meets his uncle one day, and it goes like this:

He is six, and the sand underfoot shifts without warning when the sea whispers to the beach. Puck fusses with something in Jonathan’s little bag to give us a moment.

I kneel so we are eye level. Jonathan looks at me, big eyes solemn, and he is too young, probably. I remember when my brother looked like this. I am going to pick him up and turn us away, but he says, Where’s Uncle Jonny? and I’m crying, now.

Puck has to tell him. Uncle Jonny is that sunshine there, the one on the wave, she tells him while I cover my face. He’s the seagulls too, the smell of brine. That one blobby cloud.

Jonathan drags my hand from my face and tugs on me, then takes Puck’s hand. He pulls on us both and we lift our hands without thinking, hoisting him up. Then Jonathan says, Why’s Dad crying?

I tell him, He was my brother, and Puck wraps us all up in a hug.

In our living room and kitchen, the story goes like this:

From his armchair, Finn explains electricity and storms while Jonathan does his homework. Puck murmurs low about the bills, how Sean offered to help pay with his earnings from the stable, how we told him we could do it. I look at our dirty dishes from dinner and tell her that the capaill have eaten holes in all my nets. We haven’t had a catch in eighteen days. She knows this, but her forehead pinches like she’s hearing it for the first time.

There are wrinkles on her face. I remember when I thought we’d never grow old. She looks up and I think I wouldn’t trade it, not for anything. I take us bills and all.

She looks at me funny and then I tell her this, and Jonathan asks about lightning while the two of us breathe in deep.

I am in my and Puck’s room and our son is in the doorway. This story goes like this:

Jonathan is sixteen now. He looks like both of us, still; Dory Maud had always said he would turn out more like me, would look like he was part of a boat, but I don’t think that’s true. He has Puck’s attitude and her hair and freckles but my way of speaking, my hands, my shoulders. He is perfectly both of us.

He has not come in yet. I say, What’s on your mind?

Jonathan twists his cap in his hand, earnest. How did you know Mum was the One?

I consider this. He keeps wringing his cap.

She makes me want to listen, I say. To try. To see the island as it is and still stand sure on my own feet. I didn’t let myself do that before. And I do now, even when the fish don’t bite.

He doesn’t say anything, just nods with a smile. I follow him out to the kitchen and watch him go out the door. He picks a yellowy-red flower and sets off.

Puck kisses me. What’s that for? I ask her, and she says, You make me not mind sitting still.

We are on the cliffs again and Sean marries Jonathan to Livy Falk, and their story goes like this:

They met at the festival when they were sixteen. She reached for the mare goddess’ shell at the same time he did, and they wrestled for it. She won. Jonathan brought her flowers for a year before she asked him to go with her to the festival. Four years later, and here we are.

She is Tommy Falk’s niece. I think Puck catches on that when she sees her, or did that first time. Sean did too, just now. Livy has Tommy’s hair.

In their house, their story cries too. It goes like this:

Puck and I are fifty-five and she is holding our fourth grandchild for the first time. They named her Kate. Tom crowds around Puck, his cheeks still chubby from infancy, while Maude talks about how happy she is to have a sister. She has Tommy’s hair too. My hands though.

Jonathan presses a kiss to Livy’s forehead while Sean does his blessing of the sea over Kate. Ian clings to Sean’s arm, like always, and Sean’s mouth twitches in amusement when he says the final syllables. Finn purses his lips at his knitting, trying to finish Kate’s blanket.

Later that night Sean and Finn come over and we talk about the stable, about Finn’s bakery, about the fishing. Sean brings us bread, one hand awkwardly tucked into his ancient jacket. He will not let us buy him another. We’ve decided, Puck and I, to buy him one for Christmas.

Finn says, Let’s drink to Dory Maud, and we do. I still can’t believe she isn’t here.

Puck holds my hand tight when the sea takes Sean’s ashes. The story goes like this:

He never slowed, no matter how much his apprentices would remind him. But he wouldn’t be Sean Kendrick if he had, not really.

Our family is the only one here. There was a reporter with a camera, but Livy handled him. We are the only ones on this beach, us and the memories.

Puck holds Corr’s reigns and whispers to him. He never slowed either; he whuffs at her hair, but they know each other now. She spits on her fingers and holds them to his neck and he turns his head away.

Thisby used to talk about how it came to be that Corr stayed. They used to talk about magic, more so than the usual kind, of deals made and dances danced. It was magic, but magic of a different sort. Corr always returned to him.

Puck lets go and Corr returns now to the sea and to Sean and I am there to catch her when she collapses from crying. We return home soaking.

In our house, the story looks like this:

We are quiet and she is painted faintly blue by the night. We don’t talk much, but I make us hot chocolate and she sets up the chessboard and we are both slow. We play until it’s too dark not to turn on the living room light and then she fiddles with the radio while I clear the furniture away. This hurts my back, but I don’t mind.

We are old now. She says, Brian, right before the radio catches on the mainland dance station. It’s a slow one. I meet her in the middle of the room. The lamplight sparks off her grey hairs.

I say, Puck, and she rests her hands easy in mine and on my shoulder.

The music swirls softly around the room. We dance until we are too tired not to go to sleep.

Trouble- Harry Styles One Shot

She’s sitting alone, surrounded with dancing strangers. Music’s blaring through the speakers. He’s got his eye on her. Is he her type?
I drummed my fingers on the glass in my hand. My eyes wandered over the crowded club, knot in my stomach becoming bigger with every second passing.
I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to be surrounded with blaring music nor all those stranger. I let my gaze graze over the dancing crowd, trying to find her.
For God knows which time I ask myself why I let her dragg me here. Why did I let her dragg me here when I knew she would leave me the second her pink heels touched club’s floor.
My lips wrapped around black straw, sipping on the Coke in the glass. I know I’m lame. I know I should be enjoying myself. Dancing with some random guy, making him want me. I’m just not that. I’m not higheels and tight dress girl. I’m the one who stays at home Saturday night’s wrapped up in a blanket with book in my hands. I’m not a girl who leaves with other guy every second night. I’m a good girl, boring girl. There’s no excitement in my life.
I met his gaze two hours into this long night. Running my fingers through my hair I sat in the booth, wanting the night to end. Then my eyes met his. Breath hitched in my throath as our gazes connected. He was standing beside the bar, leaning onto it. He was dressed in black clothes. His hair was pushed back, mop of curls, patiently styled. I could see his biceps flex, under the thin fabric of black T-Shirt. His hands were covered in tattoos. He smirked a little and light reflected from metal ring around his lover lip. Something in his eyes made my heart pick up a pace and I looked at the ground, hoping not to look in those eyes again. Something in his apperance screamed trouble.

She plopped  down next to me in fluss. My eyes widened a little as she scared me. Her eyes ligth up as she looked at me. Her red lips stretched in a smile.
„You having fun?“ she asked, taking the galss from my hand and taking one big swig.
„Not really. You know—“
„Gee, (Y/N),“ her eyebrows furrowed as she put the glass on the table. „No wonder  you’re not having fun! You’re drinking Coke!“ She emhasized the word, making me roll my eyes.
„You know I didn’t want to come here in a first pla—“
„Babe?“ she cut me once again, and I cursed silently. What a best friend, eh?“That guy is staring at you! Don’t look immediately!“
But before I could stop myself my eyes went in the direction she subtly showed. My eyes widened a little as I realized who she was indicating at. Tall stranger, dressed in black. Trouble. I disconnected my gaze from his.
               „No, he’s not.“
               „Yes, he indeed is. You should do something.“ She took her lower lip with between her fingers, red on her lips matching the color of her nails.“He is hot. In his own bad-boy style. I like the piercings but I don’t like tattoos. Too much ink if you ask me. But hey, if you like it.“
               She shrugged.
„What are you even talking about? He’s just a guy—“
„A guy who’s staring at you.“
„He’s not staring at—“
„Yes, he is.“ She said, interrupting my sentence once again.
„If you don’t let me finish my next sentence I’ll kick you, I swear!“ I threatened and she rolled her big, blue eyes.
„You should go talk to him.“
„I won’t.“
„I know, you won’t. He’s a guy! You don’t have time for guys!“
„Hey! That’s not tru—“
„Yes it is. I know you, (Y/N). I know you’d rather be surrounded with your books right now then be here. And that’s a shame cos I really like the dress.“ She pointed to black dress, that floated down my body.
She got off of her seat and kissed my cheek, probably leaving lipstic trail there.
„Have fun, babe!“ she said over he shoulder. „Night’s long.“
And she was right. About two things. First, night really was long.
And second, he really was staring at me.

               Half an hour later I was ready to go home. I wanted to go home, take a shower, get something to eat and get in bed with some good book. My eyes connected with numbers on my phone. It was too late for a trip to a library.
               My phone light up, indicating there was a new message.
               I click and a message from my crazy brother popped up. I answered him, with a small smile when someone beside me cleared their throath.
               My eyes moved up and I almost choked seeing tall stranger beside me.
               „Yes?“ I managed to ask despite the lump in my troath.
               „Hey love. Is this seat taken?“ He asked, his voice low, raspy, showing at an empty seat next to me in the booth.
               Just as I opened my mouth to say it was taken he cut me off.
               „Don’t bother, love.“ He chuckled. „I’ve been watching you all night. You don’t have a date. Your friend’s dancing with random guys. Thought I’d keep you some company.“
               His voice was quiet, yet loud enough for me to hear over the blaring music. He sat down next to me. I shifted a little, feeling uncomfortable. I was never good at talking to boys. Not good at flirting, not good at making conversation at all.
               „I’m Harry.“ He said, his eyes burning in mine. Not wanting to be rude I took his outstretched hand in mine and shook it lightly. His skin was warm against mine. His hand was bigger than mine, a lot.
               I told him my name and he smiled, lightly, showing a small dimple.
               „Beautiful name. It fits you.“
               I wasn’t comfortable. There was something in his appearance that made me feel weird, uncomfortable.
               „This dress fits you too.“ He said again and I felt blush creeping to my cheeks.
               „Are you flirting with me?“ I looked at him with a raised eyebrow. He laughed and his eyes met mine again.
               „Well, if you are, I want you to know I’m not interesting.“ I said, sipping on my drink and looking away from him.
               „Oh, really?“ he smiled, „Am I not your type?“ he asked, his voice challenging. I looked at him. My eyes wandered over his tattoos and piercings. One on his eyebrow, two on his lip, standing next to each other.
               „You’re not my type at all.“
               „And why’s that?“ he asked, sitting so his arm is resting on the booth  back, supporting him. His eyes burned into mine.
               „I’m not the kind of girl who’d fall or have a one night fling with an inked, pierced bad boy. Sorry, but you’re really not my type.“
               „Ahh.. You’d actually surprise how different I am on the inside and on the outside.“
               „I doubt it, but hey, you’ll find a girl that will want you. That girl’s not me but there’s plenty fish in the sea as they would say. And I have to go now.“
               I stood up, taking my phone and purse in my hand.
               „You know, I think I actually am your type. You just don’t know it yet.“
               „Well, that’s confident.“ I said, searching with my eyes for my dear, dear friend.
               „I think confident it what you need.“
               „Once again, I doubt it. Where the hell is she?“ I mumbled last sentence. My teeth engraved in my lower lip as my eyes scanned through the crowd.
               „I don’t think you’ll be going home that fast, love. Your friend is right there and she doesn’t look like she wants to leave yet.“ Harry said, pointing her out to me. Her lips were connected to some guys’ and I knew he was right. I won’t be going home for some time.
               I sat down and sent a quick message to her, hoping she would hear her phone over the noise.
               „Oh, c’mon, erase that frown. Let me buy you a drink.“
               „No thank you. I don’t let strangers buy me drinks.“
               „How can you turn down a free drink?“ he asked, there was amusement present in his voice.
               I sighed.
               „Listen, Harry, I’m sorry. I don’t want to be rude. I’m hungry, I’m tired. I want to go home and read some good book. Make some Tea. I’m really, really not interesting.“
               „Let me buy you a dinner then!“ he said and I rolled my eyes.
               „You know, I’m sure that a lot of girls here would love if you bought them drinks or dinner, I’m just not one of them!“
               „You’re really persistant, you know?“ he asked, squinting a little. That same, confident smirk was present on his lips as he ran his tongue over his piercings.
               „Yes. I’m really stubborn. I get my way, you know. I’ll get you to leave me alone.“
               „You’re wrong, love.“ He whispered and you looked at him, almost jumping out of your skin when you realized his face was only inches away from yours, his breath tickling your skin. „I don’t give up easily. I love challenges. And you are a challenge. You’re also wrong if you think I’m not your type. I’ll prove you wrong. I’ll see you again.“
               His lips touched your cheek for a brief second. You felt him slip something between your fingers. He got off of the couch. His lips stretched in a wide smile, that made your heart race a little faster. He winked at you before turning away and walking out of club. Your eyes followed him entire time, feeling of his lips on your cheek still tickling your skin and small paper with his number in your hand burning.

A/N: Hello. If you liked this and want to request another one shot click here and you’ll find yourself at the right place to do so. Also talk to me. Tell me about your day. Let’s talk about Niall and that white shirt.

anonymous asked:

I think we as a fandom should refer to this episode as "Lucifer's Really Shitty Day", because lbr that's what it was. soul numbers, and bouncing wetly off a sub, and having to pretend to give a damn about dean, and dealing with sam's pep, and cas's surprise takeover, and after ALL THAT the weapon didn't even work. he needs a vacation after everything he had to go through.

… well thinking of vacations, Lucifer’s Really Shitty Day ended with him being banished who knows where. :P 

Yeah, I mean I don’t even like Lucifer, and I started to feel sorry for him. It was a real stroke of genius to make Lucifer reveal himself just because he was so fuckin’ fed up of helping the Winchesters. It was almost like a comedy subplot inside the serious scenes, told entirely through his expressions as he began to realise that nothing could be worth it. 

… There’s probably also another layer to it, showing how Lucifer snapped from trying to be nice, but he was just doing what Cas would do, like, laying himself on the line and getting involved in their schemes physically like throwing himself at the submarine, or, although he was in no danger, mimicking Cas doing the spell as if he had a death wish to save Dean. The reminder of 6x18 was great because Cas had a similar Really Shitty Day, with his own problems with minions, getting stabbed, and all while being asked out of the blue to punt the Winchesters back in time. At the end of the episode he was like “I never want to do that again” and they never asked until this episode, and if it was making a point about how Cas and the Winchesters work together, finally having them ask Cas to time travel them without mentioning how he said he never wanted to do it again before showing how much effort Lucifer put in and how it wasn’t seen as out of character for him to be trying to kill himself to get Dean back… I’m not even overtly critical of this aspect of their relationship as some bitter Cas fans are, but it does need to come under the spotlight that things needs to change in the same way the show is finally seeming to actually work on Sam and Dean’s relationship… Of course Cas saying yes to Lucifer in the grander scheme of things sets up the perfect platform for this change, but it’s nice to have an episode really showing how much they expect of Cas and how Sam didn’t realise anything was wrong for *so* long while Lucifer was doing the spell because that sort of sacrifice has become a regular part of their lives?

anonymous asked:

Could you talk about your love for Finnick?

OH  MY GOD OH MY GOD OKAY i honestly could talk about finnick aLL FUCKING DAY like can u believe this child so like small tiny baby 14 yr old finnick getting reaped and no one thinking he has a chance in hell bc he is so young buT THEN HE DOES WIN THE YOUNGEST VICTOR IN HISTORY and so he manages to get out of that situation but then small tiny darling 14 yr old finnick being told by president snow to be a prostitute basically and he says no and then his family dies. oh my fo i am crying while writing this can u just imagine 14 yr old finnick odair who likes the sea and fishing and his family and now theyre all DEAD and to protect mags he has to do what snow says oh my god hE IS FOURTEEN YEARS OLD AND HE GETS SOLD INTO SEX SLAVERY I HONESTLY WANT TO DIE EVERY TIME I REMEMBER THIS HAPPENED TO HIM OH MY FUCKING GOD. 

i have no idea how he survived. like he is the strongest person ever when you think about it like how could this have happened how did he not kill himself or something. i love finnick s oo m cuh. he like develops this ‘capitol persona’ thats like this flirty cocky shade of himself and he uses it to protect himself and not let people close to knowing the //real// finnick odair aka thE BIGGEST SOFTY INT HE WORLD AND ALSO A GIANT MENTALLY UNSTABLE DORK MONSTER. and he can only be this //real// finnick when hes away from the capitol and with mags in their victor house by the sea GO D . 

so then like years of his life pass in this fashion like mentoring tributes who die every year and being forced to sleep with people and gettign secrets for them bc finnick odair is a conniving bastard. and thennnnnnnn annie comes along. personal headcanon is that they meet when she was reaped and not before but like either way sUDDENLY FINNICK ODAIR HAS ANOTHER PERSON HE NEEDS TO PROTECT EXCEPT NOW SHES GOING INTO THE GAMES OF DEATH AND THERE IS NO WAY THAT SHE COULD SURVIVE. except she doES and headcanon a lot of it is because finnick used every single one of his connections and capitol lovers to send her stuff and keep her safe. and she survives but shes “”“mad”“” now but finnick doesnt care because secretly he thinks that hes mad too and he and mags take care of annie and they live right next door to each other in district 4’s victors village. 

anD SO THATS FINNICK ODAIRS ENTIRE WORLD IS ANNIE CRESTA AND MAGS AND KEEPING THEM SAFE NO MATTER WHAT AND THEY LIVE HAPPILY FOR A COUPLE YEARS AND THEN EVERYTHING GOES TO SHIT THANKS TO KATNISS EVERDEEN (jk ily katniss its not ur fault). suddenly finnick and annie have to go bACK into the arena but finnck and mags know that annie wouldnt survive it a second time so they go in together. and him and mags plan to keep katniss and peeta safe for the rebellion but everything fucks up basically and mags dies and annie is captured. i //cannot// stress this enough finnick odair has 2 people he cares about in this world and he goes to impossible lengths to keep them safe. now one of them is DEAD and the other one is in the hands of the capitol and finnick knows exactly what they could be doing to her because hes been at the mercy of the capitol all of his adult life. 

basically there is nothing left for finnick odair to live for but he keeps living anyway and he pushes thru because he is the sTRONGEST AND BRAVEST AND KINDEST AND MOST PURE MAN EVER TO HAVE EXISTED. and him and annie are reunited and things are still not okay but now that theyre TOGETHER theyre okay enough oh y god i cried writi ng tthat sentence okay 




Loving me with my shoes off
means loving my long brown legs,
sweet dears, as good as spoons;
and my feet, those two children
let out to play naked. Intricate nubs,
my toes. No longer bound.
And what’s more, see toenails and
all ten stages, root by root.
All spirited and wild, this little
piggy went to market and this little piggy
stayed. Long brown legs and long brown toes.
Further up, my darling, the woman
is calling her secrets, little houses,
little tongues that tell you.

There is no one else but us
in this house on the land spit.
The sea wears a bell in its navel.
And I’m your barefoot wench for a
whole week. Do you care for salami?
No. You’d rather not have a scotch?
No. You don’t really drink. You do
drink me. The gulls kill fish,
crying out like three-year-olds.
The surf’s a narcotic, calling out,
I am, I am, I am
all night long. Barefoot,
I drum up and down your back.
In the morning I run from door to door
of the cabin playing chase me.
Now you grab me by the ankles.
Now you work your way up the legs
and come to pierce me at my hunger mark 

Anne Sexton

This student's paper is really freaking me out

original / the admirable author

I suppose that before I really begin I should provide a little context to what I am about to share. I received my MFA degree in 2012 and since then I’ve been getting published by smaller niche literary journals and serving as an adjunct professor to cover the rest of the cost of living. Being an adjunct professor isn’t quite the career to hang your hat on, ultimately what it comes down to is the hope of establishing credibility with a particular university so that they’ll take you on as a full time professor. Being an adjunct professor has you working at multiple schools and taking on a heavier workload than a full time professor and all for less pay.

I mostly teach creative writing courses but this semester I stepped up to teach Critical Reading and Writing I as well as Freshmen Seminar. It is the latter course that brought me here. As an exercise in self-awareness, as well as a chance for me to gauge how strong of writers the freshmen are, I gave them the following writing prompt: “Who am I and What do I plan to get out of the college experience?” (I may be paraphrasing a bit but you get the point.) The only requirement I made was that these two questions be addressed and that the paper comprise at least 2 pages (double spaced, size 12 Times New Roman font and no tampering with the margins). I required no outside sources, though the students were welcome to incorporate them if they wanted, all I wanted was 2 pages out of them that came purely from themselves.

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