i worked on your poem a bit

Tree roots tangle,
hold together ribs in a way that aching muscle fibres don’t.
And your eyes,
flicker, find mine,
Fill me up
Me or you?
Forests don’t speak,
no matter how many trees hit the ground.

But your silence,
it comes out like poetry.


Eye contact

-bits and pieces of what could be anything

Sometimes people leave when they promised they wouldn’t,

And sometimes you never feel better, no matter how many times they promised you would,

And sometimes the girl you swore you’d stay best friends with, walks past you in the corridor without even batting an eyelid,

Sometimes people get tired of your sadness, even though they told you they’d always be there when the nights got tough,

Sometimes he never does call you back, or if he does it’s always that bit too late,

And sometimes things just don’t work out, no matter how many times you promised you would fight till the end,

I guess what I’m trying to say is that;

It’s easy to promise the world until it comes crashing down,

You are not under construction
You are not a work in progress
I do not need to polish you up before I can show you off
You are a mosaic
Yes, you are made entirely of shattered bits and shards
But I cannot take my eyes away
I do not mean to glorify pain
There is no beauty in tragedy
I will still cry for your sorrows and weep because of all the hammers that have struck you
But I can say that there is not one broken tile in your picture that I would not be proud to show to the whole world.

anonymous asked:

I've been struggling with lots of anxiety about school- and this is just a little bit of context, I'm for sure not using tumblr and a poor unassuming account as my therapist- but one thing that's been HUGE for me in amplifying all those negative experiences is loss of love for school. Have you ever had your love of learning falter? If so, how did you respond?

This is still something I think you need to talk to a mental health professional about. However, yes. Disenchantment is part of academia and everybody deals with it at some point. I’m so overworked right now my immune system has collapsed like a card table and instead of taking time to properly recover I’m sitting on my couch with a 101 fever grading papers because it would have been irresponsible to go to class and get other people sick but I can’t really justify not spending that time on something productive. Not loving much of anything right now. But there are three things, in my experience, which will help you get through the rough patches: 

  1. Remember this is temporary. Everyone experiences periods of disillusion with their work, whether it’s because of overwork or health problems or you’ve just overdosed on your material. That’s okay. That’s normal. Nobody loves their work 100% of the time, and it doesn’t make you a bad student or a bad scholar if you need a break or if you just have to struggle for a while. 
  2. Remember you’re allowed to have other interests. Yes, man, I love early modern drama with my whole soul. But sometimes, after I’ve spent six straight hours reading Plutarch and Shakespeare side-by-side I just need a freakin’ break. I need to engage with something else. This is usually when I turn to writing, and this is largely why the two manuscripts I’m working on right now have nothing to do with what I’m studying. It’s okay to need a palate cleanser. Frustrated with your academic work? Walk away from it for a little bit, and come back when you’re feeling better. 
  3. Remember why you fell in love with this in the first place. When I start falling out of love with academia or early modernism or whatever, I find a way to go back to the roots of this little obsession of mine. I put the criticism aside for a while and just go read one of those plays or poems or books that made me want to be an early modernist thirteen years ago. Keep those things in easy reach. 

Hope this helps. 

hey um this is a random long caption. I really appreciate you all. The fact you take time to tell me about your day or how you feel or your opinion on something I ask is just nice and sweet and I know it’s small but like just speaking to me is cool even if it’s not direct. Yeah so Um I’ve been feeling weird. I’m not sure why, well I know why but idk. I know this has been emphasized time and time again but I don’t think it hurts to emphasize it again. I mean maybe it does it’s probably annoying but hey that’s me right. You know I do these over the top colorful looks and am overly bubbly sometimes it may seem but um it’s not always like that. I’m not always an angel, I can lie, I can breakdown, Im insecure, I can misinterpret things, sometimes I won’t listen.. and so on. But i try really try to be a better me and try hard to do whatever I want when it comes to what will make me feel good and not worry about outside opinions ya know (doesn’t work at times but a lot of times it can). So however you want to express yourself it’s okay. Something someone says about you or a friend or your dog isn’t about that specific thing, it’s about them and their own view of the world and how things should be. And we’re all different so we’re all gonna have different outlooks. What they think you should do may not be what you think you should do about a situation or what to wear to an event or the best way to approach that person you like.. etc. idk this really doesn’t have a point and I’m just typing as I think but.. remember ppl look through different eyes and remember to look through your own and find what works best for you and it could be wearing a yellow wig, over lining your lips, investing in equipment to efficiently stream you playing your favorite games, or entering a spoken word contest even tho you’ve only written one poem before. Idk we’re only here for a short period of time and I just want you to do and be whatever makes you smile a little bit or lose yourself in. But yeah thank you for always being kind to me and sharing that kindness and love with others as well. seriously love you all

You asked me who I
am in my ideal world,
where I can create and
be whoever I want to be.

And I tell you, in another
life I’m bold, I tell the kid
in class to quit interrupting 
the lecture because we are so 
goddamn tired of him acting
like he knows everything.

I don’t text my mother telling
her that I am crying, I don’t sit
on the corner of her bed sobbing
at 3 am about someone that doesn’t
like me back or how much I wish
I could sleep,

I dye my hair pink and blue and
purple and I get a fringe and wear
dark lipstick and remember to file
my nails rather than let them break
and I dress in all black one day and
the next day in colors as vivid as my
dreams of you.

I travel wherever I want without a
worry in the world and I don’t think
twice about moving constantly and
I pack only a suitcase and I go to coffee
shops early in the morning and sit next
to someone in the sunlight and we talk
about politics or just good stories we
have heard.

I take some time off from school and
I work and I live in a small apartment
with a faucet that drips but I keep the
windows open constantly and my neighbors
are so unconventional but they are still so
beautiful and they have the greatest stories
and they drink during the weekends and
during my free time I fill my walls with
pictures and poems and posters and I am
so bloody passionate that it drips through
the windows,

I have many friends or I have absolutely
no one and I am content either way and
I go to parties and get to know everyone
but no one exactly knows me and they
try to describe me to others asking if
they’ve seen me too but they cannot
find any words that can describe the
way I held their hands.

And I tell you, in another life I’m crazy
and happy and weird and I talk a lot or
sometimes not at all and none of their
words ever hurt me because I am too
caught up in my own love, I am too 
busy creating myself. 

And I ask what would you be if you
could be anything?

And you tell me of all these divine things,
you’d ride the train and never get off and
see where it takes you, you would drive until
you ran out of gas in the middle of nowhere,
you would swim until your skin looks like
apple peels, and as you tell me of all these
wondrous adventures, where you are always
going somewhere, I realize you are just running

You have always just been running away
from me.

—  In another life I’m bold and you’re cold.
dancing in a snow globe | shawn mendes




word count: 10,143 (you didn’t think it was possible for this to be longer than the last one, did you?)

author’s note: thank you all SO, SO MUCH for all your feedback on part one (which you should probably read before you start this, and you can find it HERE). this second part covers sophomore year, and it’s a bit more nsfw so, like, don’t read this at work or your grandmother’s house, ya feel? i’m dedicating it to emily aka @saysweartogod bc she’s been my main cheerleader and literally revived herself from the dead to tell me to finish this. title comes from “you are in love” by taylor swift. enjoy xo

Your name: submit What is this?


It had always been strange to you that time never felt consistent. One second could feel as though it stretched out into several eons, but three months could be compressed into one blink. As your freshman year of college ended, you felt like you weren’t looking around enough to notice the changes: the trees becoming lush with green leaves again, sweatshirts becoming t-shirts becoming tank tops, your boyfriend becoming more open, more kindhearted, more incredible with each passing day.

As your sophomore year progressed, you learned two things:

  1. You were in love, and
  2. You had no idea what to do about it.

But let’s start a bit before that.

Keep reading

love poems

nonnie: ok when i saw this i can only think of domestic george and my ass is on fiiirrreee so how ‘bout “Your bed head is really cute.”, “We’ll do dishes together.”, and “How about a kiss?” pretty please??

genre: romance, fluff, implied sex, some angst at the start oops

word count: 2.5K

pairing: george x reader

warning: mention of divorce, some arguing, nothing much

description: y/n and george have been dating for a few years, and had hit a bit of a rough patch before she had to leave the country for a little while for her work as a magizooligist. when she comes back, she and george are both intent on keeping things happy, since it’s been so long. 

a/n: i got a sad idea for a drabble a few days ago where george and his gf had sort of fizzled out and it led to a really dramatic rough patch. then i got this prompt and figured a way to combine the two into what i hope is a more realistic version of a long term relationship. enjoy!

Like most things, your rough patch had started rather innocently. Ron had been fretting about not being romantic enough for Hermione and you just shrugged and laughed a bit, “Oh don’t worry Ron! That sort of thing always goes away.” 

George looked at you in a bit of confusion, you’d been dating for about four years now, and the war had been over for a year and a half. “What d’you mean?”

“Well I mean, people don’t keep acting the same way they do in the start of relationships for the whole time. It’s not like you and I still go picnicking every Saturday. It’s not flowers every day.” you looked back at Ron and smiled, “This stuff’s normal. Just talk to her about what you’re worried about and it’ll be okay.” 

Ron seemed comforted.

George was upset.

When you two came back to your apartment that night you knew you’d done something to make him upset. “What’s wrong?”

“We’re still romantic.”

“I’m not saying we aren’t I’m just saying we don’t act like we did when we first started dating. I don’t run off to honeydukes after class to grab your favorite sweets– you don’t pick me flowers anymore… this stuff is normal.” 

Your tone wasn’t confrontational, and he believed you when you said that this wasn’t a problem but somehow this still got underneath George’s skin. 

When had you two stopped being that couple? 

The one that everyone called sickingly sweet? 

The one that had everyone saying that they wanted to be in a relationship like yours?

“So if we don’t do that stuff– then what do we do that’s romantic?”

You blinked, and opened your mouth to answer before shutting it. When was the last time you two had gone on a proper date? Hell, when was the last time you’d made a real romantic gesture to your boyfriend?

“Valentines day we went out.”

“That was eight months ago.”

You gritted your teeth. “This is still normal.”

“This isn’t normal! Even when couples date for a while they do romantic things! When did we stop that?”

You felt yourself going on the defensive, “Look! This isn’t my fault, don’t yell at me!”

“So it’s my fault now?”

“I’m not saying it’s anyone’s fault!” how the hell did this happen, you’d been having such a good day. “I’m saying this happens! It happened to my parents!”

“Your parents got divorced.” his voice was deadpan, and it was like a knife to your chest.

“Don’t bring my parents into this.”

“You’re the one who brought them up.” when you shook your head and looked away from him, George took a step closer just for you to step back. 

“I’m going to just shower and go to bed.” you brushed past George into your shared bathroom and got ready to go to sleep. He waited for you to join him in bed, only to watch you walk out of the bedroom, “Where are you going?”

“I’m sleeping in the guest bedroom tonight.” 

Keep reading

Aristocrat!AU {Minhyuk}

it’s his birthday! and people asked for something with minhyuk so!!
bangtan version | wonho & shownu  

  • a famous poet, whose works inspired short films and other people in the aristocratic literary circle
  • is known to have a very lavish, materialistic taste
  • his apartment looks more like a museum, with expensive artwork and high ceilings. marble walls and glistening, valuable chandeliers of diamonds
  • he likes to host dinners, specifically for high class artists where people in the business can mingle and talk
  • everyone from actors, to singers, to filmmakers - minhyuk entertains them all
  • and his bright, funny attitude is well liked and people can only pray for an invitation to one of these dinners
  • where minhyuk comes through the large kitchen doors, looking rich in a white suit and soft, pastel pink cuffs - a smile on his face that nearly blinds people
  • but with such a beautiful lifestyle and such an expensive dinner, comes a lot of responsibility
  • and you’re hired to be part of the clean up crew - ushering tipsy rich people into their cars and cleaning spilled wine off the floor before it can damage 
  • while minhyuk disappears into his bedroom suite, the sound of running bath water is your only friend as you scrub the floor and check the time - 3 am
  • and minhyuk,,,,,has been trying to write another book of poems - but unlike his first which came from what he assumed love was about,,,,what he saw in the people around him,,,,
  • this second needed someone for minhyuk, it needed a muse
  • and for a moment, as he steps out of the bathroom, he sees you working tirelessly
  • your hair pulled back from your face, a serious determined expression on your pretty features
  • and minhyuk is nothing short of enchanted with you, and to your shock, a couple of minutes later minhyuk is beside you
  • scrubbing at the floor and you jump because - isn’t he your boss??? what is he doing???
  • “i can do this myself, it’s ok -”
  • you start, but minhyuk flashes you a smile. you’re pretty sure the pants he’s wearing that are getting scuffed on the floor could pay your rent for the next year
  • “i want to help. but i also don’t think i know your name?”
  • for a second you think you should lie, just in case at some point he wants to fire you or whatever, but you mumble out your real name and still look at him with wide eyes
  • “your pants-”
  • “these old things? don’t worry about them. tell me more about yourself.”
  • you look around, wondering if you’re dreaming or not because you’re just a part of the cleanup crew - you weren’t even supposed to meet lee minhyuk tonight
  • yet there he was, cleaning beside you, the man who owned this mansion of an apartment
  • “not much to say, i clean for a living.”
  • you don’t mean to sound curt, but you don’t know what else to say
  • minhyuk gets up along with you as you move your bucket over to the windows
  • “is that all you do, clean? im sure there’s something else you do, art? music?”
  • you stiffen a bit, of course rich people think you have the time for that, but to avoid your rude streak you just smile a little “from time to time i like to read”
  • “have you read my work?”
  • you stop cleaning and stare out the window at the night street, you have read something of his - but most of his work is love poems, not really your stle
  • “i have, i read,,,,,,,,what was it - beautiful? ive also read incomparable,,,”
  • minhyuk lets a smile play on his face, you catch it from the corner of your eye and almost feel yourself blush
  • “did you like it?”
  • “well,,,,,they’re all about love and -”
  • minhyuk chuckles as you turn to look at him and he shrugs, “im guilty of one thing in this life,,,,,”
  • his eyes meet yours, a vibrant earthy tone within them
  • “,,,i fall in love with every pretty person that i meet.”
  • there’s a silence after he says that, almost like he’s asking you to read between the lines
  • but you don’t want to,,,,,,there’s,,,,,no way his words mean anything
  • but as you reach up to clean a higher part of the window, minhyuk’s hand gently wraps around your wrist
  • “ill help.”
  • he takes the cloth from your hand and reaches the spot you were going for
  • again you want to tell him that he doesn’t have to help - he hired you to do this afterall
  • but the words die in your throat as minhyuk makes eye contact again
  • “can i tell you something, something ive never said before.”
  •  you swallow, not sure if you should agree but your head instinctively nods to his request
  • “i have never had a muse of my own, my love poems are frauds.”
  • he laughs but for a second you think there’s real saddness in his tone
  • “your words are still beautiful.”
  • you murmur in an attempt to try and cheer up that sadness you heard
  • but minhyuk shakes his head, “i have all this money. all this fame thanks to fraud. and you know what, it might be stupid, but id give it all up to experience what it is i write about in those poems,,,,”
  • suddenly the rag he’d been holding falls to the floor and you quickly scramble to pick it up
  • minhyuk also swoops down, hand extending for it
  • when your fingers brush and in the room, late at night, you swear you see an electric spark run between you two
  • minhyuk feels it - sees it too
  • and he doesn’t move his hand and neither do you
  • but you know what you are, someone that cleans up after this rich person, so you pull your hand back with the rag
  • “i need to finish my work.”
  • minhyuk opens his mouth, but you scurry away out of the room to go clean in the kitchen
  • minhyuk stands alone in the room, staring down at his hands, the fingertips where you’d made contact
  • he gathers himself and turns to go to his desk
  • in the morning, when you’re done making sure his apartment is spotless head to toe, you look around to try and see who you should tell that you’re leaving
  • minhyuk turns out being the only person left, so quietly you let yourself into his bedroom
  • surprised to find him asleep at his desk, the pen he’d been using still clutched weakly between his fingers
  • you don’t want to leave without excusing yourself, but when you get lose enough you see the paper beside his head
  • the beginnings of a poem; 
  • the answer is always in the electricity
    even when you find yourself lost
    reach out, touch them
    feel it pulse up your arm and straight into your chest
    the answer is always in the electricity 
    my heart tied to it for good
  • you gasp, just slightly, the idea in your head that the electricity he’s writing about could have been what you felt pas between you in the night
  • but ,,,,, you bring yourself to reality and doubt it
  • yet when you turn to leave, you hear minhyuk move around - his hand comes out again to brush against your skin before you can go
  • the electricity, that spark is there again
  • “i feel it, do you?”
  • his sleep voice is like a slow song, and when you turn those eyes are looking at you again and yes - you whisper. you feel it too. 
memories -B.H

a/n: Omg, I’m living for angsty/fluffy Billy omg

Requested by: anon

Request: “Hi there! Can I request billy hargrove x reader where one of them has amnesia?angst with a happy ending please!”

Requests are closed

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Warnings: profanity, hospital, angst. Fluff. Kind of made it a bit person considering I’ve been through this situation with someone else. (non romantic)

“Billy, just shut the fuck up, you’re overreacting over nothing.” You yell back at him. Billy was livid ever since he saw you laugh and smile at whatever Tyler Johnson had to say to you, and what pissed him off the most was that it was a genuine smile, the one that he thought only he could bring out in you. You had a date tonight and you thought it was going to go well until you got to the diner and BIlly basically ignored everything you said.

The both of you were stubborn as hell and fought harder at one another, he liked that you were a spitfire, and you liked that he showed a little dominance when it came to standing his ground, but when the two of you brought it onto each other, all hell broke loose. The smart thing for you to do would be to talk to him about it when you had him in your arms, playing with his hair, when he was relaxed. But he had pissed you off so much that you just asked him.

Billy and you had been screaming at each other for 30 minutes now, whilst he was driving, speeding actually. “He’s not your boyfriend, I am, so I’d appreciate it if you’d not whore around and laugh and smile that pretty smile around other guys.” He spat. You raised your eyebrows at him in bewilderment and laughed.

“‘Whoring around’? William Hargrove, are you really telling me not to whore around. Billy you can’t keep a girl off of you for less than an hour when we are in school, people look at me like a lost puppy because you flirt aimlessly at anyone.” You yelled, you wanted to rip your hair out and scream at him until your lungs collapsed.

“I don’t flirt with other girls, jesus fuck you’re so fucking annoying!” he rolled his eyes and pressed on the gas more. That was a jab at the heart, for the first half of your relationship you were always insecure about being annoying, or clingy, or just simply too much. He eventually eased you out of that and you became more comfortable with him, but now that he just made that low blow to you, your heart ached.

“Fuck you, you’re an asshole.” You said with a little quiver to your lip and shakiness in your voice. “And you’re nothing but a whiny bitch.” He said and everything changed in that moment.


Billy sat at your hospital bed every day. Regretting everything he said to you in the car, he didn’t mean it, not one bit. He got all of his work sent to him from school, he knew if he didn’t go to school you’d be pissed, you wanted him to graduate so bad and you knew he could do it. “I got the literature work from Mrs. Dean. We’re going over Lord Byron right now, I think that’s his name, and we had to pick out a poem right. Well I knew you liked love poems so, I figured I’d use this one…for you.” He spoke to you, not sure if you could hear him or not.

“She walks in Beauty, like the night

Of Cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that’s best of dark and bright

meet in her aspect and her eyes.”

“It reminded me of you a lot.” he said and put the paper down and holding onto your hand. “C’mon, baby. I need you to wake up for me. I need you to come back to me, you’re too fucking stubborn to stay like this.” he laughed with a sniffle. Billy had let his emotion show more in those two months of being in the hospital than he had ever in his life.

He let his tears roll down his nose and into the palm of your hand. Whenever your parents left for dinner and to take showers at home, Billy got a good hour and a half to two hours alone with you. Billy apologized to you everyday for what he said to you, everything he did that hurt your feelings. He felt disgusting and guilty.


Month 3, day 90, 8pm. Hawkins Memorial Hospital, post trauma.

Your tubes were out for about a month and a half, the only thing you had was a feeding tube for malnourishment during trauma. You lost weight, lots of weight, and so did Billy. Billy starved as much as you did, he didn’t get to work out like he used to, he was still thick but he lost muscle, too much in his opinion, his jean jacket was even getting baggy on him.

“Here, you looked starved.” your head nurse came in and handed him a fresh hot burger from the cafeteria. Billy smiled at her and inhaled the food, the nurse wasn’t even sure he tasted it, he just swallowed it. “Thank you.” He reached for his wallet to pay her back but she stopped him. “Honey, I’ve watched you live off of water and the poor jello they give her that she can’t even eat. It’s on me.” she smiled at him.

The both of them looked at you, sound asleep. Waiting day by day to get stronger. Your brain swelling stopped within the first week of you being there, so brain surgery wasn’t needed, but the chance of a seizure was always possible. Billy knew that. “She’s your girl isn’t she? She’s a heartbreaker, very beautiful.” The nurse complimented the both of you. Billy smiled at you and kept your hand in his. “All mine. When do you think she’ll wake up?” He asked and moved your hair out of your face. “Well, it’s all up to her now. She’ll wake up when she feels she’s strong enough.” the nurse patted his back and walked back to her main desk.

“You hear that babe, you can wake up whenever you want now. You have no idea how bad I miss you. I wanna hear your voice, hold you, thank god the impact didn’t put too much on you, all you did was break your knee from having your legs up. You’re so strong, y/n. You’ve held on better than I have for sure.” He said and leaned over pressing a long soft kiss to your forehead.


Month 3, day 100, 10 pm.

“Are you sure, you’re okay with this? If you need anything you have our numbers, are we bad for doing this?” Your mom asked Billy and then looked to your father. Billy saw how your mother became exhausted, how she struggled with picking up your younger sibling everyday from school then bringing them an hour drive to the hospital. He also saw how your family’s financial status was falling due to your dad not working. Billy really worried for them, so he suggested that they try to get back to a regular schedule.

Your father agreed to staying home for the weekend but to be back the minute the sun rose on sunday that way he could see you before he went to work, and that way your younger brother could see you with your mom. They felt guilty for leaving you, but they knew Billy was right. They needed to continue living.

When they left Billy turned on the tv and wrapped up in a blanket and sat in the recliner next to you. He couldn’t tell you how may times he had watched Jaws, it was like it was the only thing that they broadcasted.

Billy was halfway asleep when he heard you shift in your sleep, wanting to make sure you were okay, but when he looked at you, your eyes were open and a look of confusion washed over your face. “Baby?!” Billy asked and rushed over to your bed to smash a kiss to your lips. You opened your eyes and pushed him away.

“I’m sorry, but who are you? And…am I in the hospital?” you asked him. Billy looked at you in confusion and went for the nurse.

“You never told me she’d lose her memory?” Billy nearly screamed. “Sir, it’s common in situations like hers, but if you just speak to her, remind her of things before the wreck, she’ll be back in no time. I don’t think it’s long term, but short term for sure.” The doctor nodded and went his way.

Billy ran his hands through his hair and calmed down before walking back into your room. You looked up at him with a slight blush of embarrassment and fiddled with your fingers. You always did that when you were nervous and Billy just smiled at you. “I didn’t mean to snap on you a minute ago, but I really don’t know who you are.” You said sweetly, it broke Billy’s heart and you could see it all over his face. You cleared a spot on your hospital bed and gestured for him to sit there.

Billy took a seat at your feet and put a hand on your good knee. “Well, for starters, I’m Billy, your boyfriend, who you think is the hottest, funniest, most badass guy in the world.” You laughed at his comment and his your smile with your hand, Billy guided your hand away from your face so he could see that smile of yours. You blushed and looked at him to continue. “We were uh- I was driving us home after a date and I was mad at you that day and- God I was such an idiot- We were yelling at each other and I said some really hurtful things- and I was speeding and we hit head on into a car in front of us.” His lips quivered slightly.

You put a hand on his lovingly and looked at him to tell him it was okay. “You had no brain trauma or anything, but you did smash your left knee and you have short term memory loss.” He nodded and intertwined his fingers with yours.

“How long have I been here, where are my parents? My brother?” You asked and stuck your left leg out to the side to get comfortable and to let Billy scoot closer. “Princess, you’ve been here for 100 days. 3 months and 9 days to be exact. Your parents have been here just about everyday, minus the times they had to go home and shower and take care of your brother. I could tell that they were exhausted so I told them to go home for the weekend, and I’d call if anything happened.” he scanned your face up and down, seeing that you were taking in a lot.

Billy decided to be quiet and just leave you alone for a second, then you spoke up again. “Billy? How long were we together? Are we still or-” You stopped before embarrassing yourself and you blushed. Billy chuckled and held your hand. “We have been together for almost 8 months now.” He smiled at you and squeezed your hand.

“How’d you manage going to school and coming here and a job I guess?” You asked. Billy just shook his head. “I didn’t, I mean, I got my work mailed to me and stuff because I knew that if I didn’t do some kind of school work you’d be pissed,” He laughed. “I was here everyday, since day one. I’ve not left, I’ve been here for every MRI, every surgery and everything. I didn’t want to leave you. I just. I love you and I just couldn’t leave you.” He sighed.

You scooted to him and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. You had seen all the love he poured into being there, you saw the exhaustion in his face, the discomfort from sleeping in a recliner for 100 days, you saw how he cared for you, and you didn’t even remember him. When he told you he loved you, you believed him.

When you pulled away, you saw tears in Billy’s eyes, for just a moment, he had gotten you back, His y/n. “Billy?” You said and played with the single curl that fell in front of his face, the one you always used to play with. “Yes, babe?”

“When can we go home.”


Home, day 1, 3 pm. Hawkins, Indiana.

“Oh it’s so good to finally have you home.” Your mother squealed as you limped on your crutches through the house. Billy kept a protective hand on your back as you walked through the house. “Y/n!” Your brother yelled, excited to see you. He ran to hug you but you winced when he hit your knee. “Sorry.” He muttered.

Your mother made a home cooked meal, your favorite of course, your dad played cards with you, you colored with your brother and Billy, Billy sat in the living room watching T.V and letting you have time with your family. Once your mom started cleaning, your brother was asleep in his room, and your dad was passed out in the recliner in the living room, you walked over to Billy in the living room and ran your fingers through his hair.

His head lulled back and he smiled at you. “Can you help me down the stairs, to my room?” You asked him and smiled. Billy happily held you to his side as you carefully went down the stairs. You propped your crutches next to your bed and sighed when you finally got to lay down. Billy mirrored you and sighed as he got to stretch his legs out on a bed, finally.

You smiled at him and rolled into his chest, loving the body heat he was putting off. He held you close in his arms and kissed your head over and over. “Was my dad pissed?” You laughed. “Oh, he wanted to fucking kill me, but I guess he saw how much I actually love you when he figured out that I was staying and not leaving your side, there’s no doubt he’ll be apprehensive, but I don’t think he wants to kill me anymore.” He smiled and kissed your nose.

“Also, I think I remember what the car looked like, ugh um. Oh my god- I could tell you.” You struggled with your memory and snapped your fingers like it was going to help anything. Billy laughed and reached over to your bedside table, pulling out a polaroid that you had of a shirtless Billy, in front of the blue camaro, and you put a lip print in the top right corner. You smiled at the picture and nodded.

“That’s the car I remember, it was nice, is it okay? Oh Billy didn’t you love that car?” You asked and kept staring at the picture, to be honest you were staring at Billy, man was he one fine man. “Yeah, she’s in the shop. Might be a couple of more weeks, but she’ll be ready to run again… Stop drooling babe, I’m right here.” He laughed and took the picture from you. You smiled at him and kissed him longingly.

“Billy, I may not remember much, but I do remember one thing.” you said and played with his mother Mary pendant. “Oh yeah, what’s that, baby?” He cooed and held you close to him.

“That I love you.”


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Allen: About ten years ago today, Martin, the guy who owns this joint, lost his wife in a camping accident by the woods just up north from here. Mauled by a bear. She didn’t know she was on bear territory. Poor lass couldn’t even scream for help. 
Emma: Holy shit. That’s messed up…
Allen: Yeah, it is. Martin wasn’t the same since. When Ingrid died, it’s like he died with her. He stopped leaving his house; wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sleep. Nothing. He’s just kinda…there. Him and his wife used to run this place together back in the day. But now it’s just a ghost of what it once was.
Dot: Oh it breaks my heart just thinking about what poor little Lukas going through all of this.
Emma: Lukas?
Dot: Their son. He’s about your age, I think. Good kid, always had a smile on his face… When he found out his Ma died, he had no one else to turn to for comfort. He had no other family other than his old man, but clearly he already checked out.
Allen: See, that’s the thing with sadness sometimes. You get so caught up in all your grief that you think you’re the only one hurtin’. You ain’t. That kid’s all alone. Already lost his ma. Didn’t have to lose his pops, too.

“ Sometimes beneath close eyelids,
I quest to bring you back
As if you were driftwood floating
downstream on your back. ”

— Sarah Spang

anonymous asked:

Your poetry is terrible & lame, you should feel some regret & shame, just like your drunk elven father did, when he fucked your mom stupid

Not bad! If it’s not taking liberties with your impressive creativity, might I just make a few corrections in meter:

Your poetry is terrible and lame.

It brings regret to you, and brings you shame

Just like your drunken elven father did

The time he fucked your mother, plus you’re stupid.

You see, the first line was written in fairly passable iambic pentameter, and I thought it a shame that the following lines didn’t quite have the same structure. The kernel of an idea was clearly present in the poem you submitted to me, and some of the language was visceral and emotive, but I think that being a bit stricter with meter would lend itself well to the rhythm and flow of your lines, particularly if you ever had plans to read it aloud, although of course that would mean coming off Anonymous, so I completely understand if that’s not on the cards for your poetic career. I also really liked the rhyming of lame / shame. The fact that both are thematically as well as semantically linked works very well, connoting negative feelings of self-worth and reflecting in a nuanced yet obvious manner on the psyche of its author. 

I hope you make use of my suggestions. I truly have made them with the best of intentions. Let me know how it goes when you submit it to a prestigious poetry magazine; I’m sure it’ll be a veritable shoo-in.

take a deep breath. 
hold it for as long as you can–
     until your chest pounds with the pressure of trapped heartbeats
     until your lungs tremble with all that they cannot contain
     until the world frays and fractures at the dizzying edges.

breathe out.
let go of the pounding in your bones,
     feel the air as it hisses through your teeth
     feel the rush as your veins dilate and contract.

and perhaps you will finally know
        how my body feels
                 with each breath and shudder and heartbeat.

—  every time I look at you ( j.p.

learning by heart is something almost every student has to do at some point and that stuff can be painful af. so i decided to share the method that has worked wonders for me during my 4 years at university and may even be a tiny bit of fun. 

always remember: the dumber the better!

and by this i mean that your brain will be able to retain information a lot better if the information is so dumb it makes you wanna giggle and kill yourself at the same time. 

also, before applying this method i have already composed my study guide in question-answer form. however, you don’t have to keep to the question-answer format, this technique also works fine with bullet points or flashcards.

step 1: bust those rhymes

this is a poem i wrote when i studied for my language acquisition class. writing poems is great when you have to remember lots of information. i always do this as a first step to gather the main points of a topic and once i know these by heart, i will be able to deal with the details more easily. 
you could also write a song or a rap if you like. by composing the information into rhymes and verses you are forced to really think about it, plus rhymes (especially really dumb ones) are easier to learn and remember than just any boring old text. 

step 2: build those donkey bridges

in german, we call this memorization method “building donkey bridges” because donkeys are conventionalized as very dumb animals for which you have to make it very easy to be able to walk over a bridge. so imagine your brain as the donkey having to cross a bridge to get to the information you want to learn. i like to build my donkey bridges as follows:
- read your bullet points and highlight ONE important keyword per bullet point
- then you take the first letters of each of your keywords and arrange them to form some kind of word or letter cluster you will be able to remember (words like BUTT or BOOB or POOP are especially easy to remember if you’re an immature piece of sh*t like myself)
- bonus points if the donkey-word you just composed somehow relates to the topic you’re studying
- repeat this for every question / paragraph
- let me know if you want me to write a more in-depth post about this technique!

step 3: flashcards

to really make this method foolproof, write your donkey-words on flashcards - the word on one side and on the other side the keywords the letters refer to. that way, you will be able to revise them anywhere you go but try to not giggle too much at the stupid sh*t you came up with, this might make you seem like a weirdo. (jk) 

just send me an ask / a message if you have further questions or requests! happy studying! 

10 Things I Hate About You(Reader x Poe Dameron)

Word Count: 2851

Summary: No one can break down the walls and barriers of wits and stubbornness that the reader has put up. Not one guy has ever come close to even sharing a glance with the reader that wasn’t intended to kill. But Poe, with his cunning charm, was set to change that, thanks to a bet initiated by Finn.

A/N: You all know the movie. If you don’t, I highly suggest that you watch it because it’s so so so good. I’ve switched up the poem a bit to make more for my story and the sw universe. And as always, if you’re not in a star wars mood, this isn’t for you. Enjoy!!

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Artemis, where would you recommend I start reading Sylvia Plath? I would like to start with her letters/journal, but I should probably read some of her poems first? Or maybe The Bell Jar? I know a bit about her and most of it is because of your answers about her and quotes/excerpts from her works. Thank you!

Hello, love. I have very mixed feelings about The Bell Jar but it’s definitely not (in my opinion) nowhere near close to good enough & I always avoid recommending it. Not because it’s a “heavy” read but because as excellent as Plath was at her most autobiographical – she’s all the more brilliant and raw and confessional in both her poetry and diaries.

That said: I think her short stories make a wonderful introduction to her writing. The descriptive quality is there and although one suspects that she’s got more to her than prose in the strict sense of prose – one can perfectly feel, through the reading of these stories, that she’s a writer willing to put herself out there, writing with bravery and integrity, ready to dig & dig to get “it” (her writing vision) right. I think it’s important to give Johnny Panic & The Bible Of Dreams: Short Stories a chance for it’s not Plath at her best…but it’s Plath at her most perfectly flawed and yet open. Open to experiment, make occasional mistakes and own them, be “young” on paper. It’s the beginning. And the beginning is very important with Plath because her writing tells the complete story of herself on the deepest most personal level.

What will sweep you off your feet (or not) is certainly not the stories – it’s the poetry and the diaries (because that’s where her heart was.) You don’t need to know anything about her, you just need to read and feel the poetry. If you’ve read the stories first then you’ll begin to sense the immense contradiction. The style is polished and near perfect in some (flowing in faultless symmetry with her techniques) but then the imagery begins to shift and shift and become darker and darker. There’s complete control and complete surrender. Agonizing cruelty and all consuming tenderness. There’s amazing synthesizing power in what she succeeds to do with her poetry. One of my favourite Plath poems is without a doubt 3 Women…and I, for some reason, always end up recommending it because it is a very telling poem. Completely indicative of her poetic vision and dramatically whole in itself. If you’re interested, you can find it here.

You can also try reading the poems while immersing yourself in the diaries; I’d definitely recommend parallel reading when it comes to Plath. You will likely begin to sense the very continuity not of “what” happened, everyone pretty much knows the facts, but of “how” it happened. In her mind, soul and life. Anyhow, Plath is inexhaustible, I think. You can never exhaust your reading of Plath if she ever fascinates you. She’s not one of these writers that you can put aside after a while and claim she was a “phase” for this or that reason. For me, at least. She’ll either scar you or make you feel nothing. She’s all about the extremes.

Chanwoo - Born Hater (English Lyrics Translation)

Center of iKON
Stil a maknae but can grip a mag
I have many secrets like Jinhwan hyung’s profile
My existence is not secretive like his shoe-insoles
Have a sexy cutie pretty character himself
Do y'all know? He’s a nice guy to everyone
You will know when you hear about him more
Among us 7 members he’s the one & only whose personality has no answer
You know that I love you, right?

To be honest
Compare to Yunhyeong
Bbuyo (Jinhwan) is definitely better
He’s like the book with color among ones selling at a bookstore
A book which has a different color on the front and another on the back
He does not suit with modern emotions

Hanbin-ah, why are you laughing at the back?
I think I need to spend a full night if I have to diss you
Don’t talk non-sensely
These days there are many wounds in my heart
The parts I got are too little
I know that I lack a lot
But please stop giving me suttle & left-over parts
And please stop being late
Come to the car on time

Open your eyes more
Run you brat
But since you helped me to write this rap
I do love you

Junhoe stop drinking and let’s go work out with me
The sunlight outside the windows is telling me to help you
Writing poems & being an emotional power-vocal it’s good
But sometimes you look like an old kid
Sorry my friend
Drop your passion a bit
You are such an unfunny kid
Doesn’t matter if you run hard
You are still in my palms
Don’t try to make us laugh
Because it’s not funny anyway
Even me picking my boogers is way funnier


Look at here
The ones who are not the maknae
Run away
No doubt
Are you watching
If you don’t like it
Then you stand here
Ah hide well
I can see your hair
Where are you looking at
Our scales are different
If you’re not the maknae
It’s do or die

Now everybody put your hands up
You know we are born hater
I’m ready to eat all your hate
Next again
See you again
See you later

© all_abt_chanwoo

10 Things I Hate About You

Originally posted by tvd-tw-ships

Pairing: Isaac Lahey x Reader

Requested: Nope

Summary: Isaac gets paid to ask you out on a date but ends up falling for you

GIF Not Mine

Isaac knew he screwed up when he started falling for you. He didn’t mean for it to happen but the more he hung out and got to know you the more he liked you. He was only supposed to ask you out so your sister could start dating Jackson. Jackson had paid Isaac to do so and at the start of it all he cared about was the money. At first you weren’t interested and denied his requests of taking you out so Isaac brought it upon himself to find out about the things you like and your interest which seemed to have worked as you finally said yes.

The next step was for Isaac to take you to prom, again getting paid to do so. You were against going to prom and didn’t want to go but Isaac was insistent on you going which only made you suspicious of what his game was. Your sister however was begging you to go as if you didn’t go it means she couldn’t go. Eventually you succumbed and accepted Isaac’s invite to prom.

Prom was going great. You were dancing with Isaac while you sister was with Jackson. Your sister however finally realised Jackson’s intentions and was angry with him which resulted in him revealing the whole deal him and Isaac had. You had overheard this and left heartbroken with Isaac calling after you apologising. The whole night you cried, you broke down letting the tears fall freely not caring who could hear. The first time in a long time you gave your heart to someone for it only to be broken. While you were in bed crying yourself to sleep Isaac was feeling terrible. You were the first girl he truly had feelings for and he ruined it by agreeing to the stupid deal. He should have never taken the money and broken your heart.

The next morning in English class the assignment was due in. You had to write a poem based on William Shakespeare’s Sonnet 141. “I assume you’ve all done the assignment.” The teacher said looking around the room at everyone. “Who’s brave enough to read theirs out?” No one put their hand up. Instead they all looked around at each other trying to not get picked by the teacher. You did the same and your eyes landed on a solemn looking Isaac. Your gaze snapped back to the front and you took a breath, raising your hand.

“I will.” You volunteered. The teacher nodded and gestured for you to take the front of the classroom. When you got up to the front you looked around at everyone’s faces, who’s attention was now on you, and saw Isaac’s looking at you with interest. You cleared your throat and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much that it makes me sick. It even makes me rhyme.” You paused taking a breath before going onto the next verse. “I hate it- I hate the way you’re always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh. Even worse when you make me cry.” Tears were now threatening to fall. You looked up for a moment on the verge of tears trying to will away the tears but it didn’t work so you carried on not caring that you were showing your vulnerable side to your whole class, even Isaac. “I hate the way you’re not around and the fact that you didn’t call. But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.”

Isaac knew the poem was about him which only made him feel even worse. He could see it in your eyes how much he hurt you and he would do anything to make you feel better. All he wanted to do was take the pain away that you were feeling. You were crying now and you couldn’t stand being in the same room as him any longer as it hurt too much, you just had to get out of there. You walked away from your previous position at the front, heading straight to the door leaving Isaac to contemplate how to make it right with you.

Requests are open

A/N: This is based on the film 10 things I hate about you. Yeah, the beginning sucks 😂. I had the ending planned out but I had no idea how to start it


you gotta take care of u.

he can lean into your ears and tell you about all the pretty things that the universe has sent to him as a gift wrapped in your arms around the words of tender promises and forever and ever dreams still lacing my tongue for lack of a better word and i know that i don’t know everything about you yet, but you still make me feel so fucking happy to just know you and it also makes me so damn sad when i see that you’re so quick to leave. there’s a certain thrill to loving you even if that’s all that we are. words that are uncertain and feelings that are too attached to the way the sun is a bit brighter during the summer and if there’s another way for me to feel your pain— i’d like to stay a little bit longer just to get to know the way your tears taste when they’ve been running down your cheeks for many weeks and many nights and many moons ago— did you love me too still running through my mind as a philosophy of sorts and i know that that’s all that we may be, but fuck it, ya know? i’ve only got one life to live. so if that means i get upset because this doesn’t work, that’s fine by me. i choose this. as unhappy and unsettling as it may be, you’re my favorite bits of life. and i can deal with this. whatever this is to you, i’ll accept that too.

they’ll throw words at you
not with self hatred as the cliche of a bully goes
but with confusion over a story that was not theirs
only half learned from the mouth of a broken heart
spitting out dirty phrases
that sour their tongues
and you are the soul gifted these words
you know the story
it was partially yours to tell but
they don’t seem to care what poems you can make
singing loudly the guilt that adorns you
until your eyes are speckled and hands full of blood
I don’t know the story
but I do know other bits of pieces of a swollen heart
long nights at work to support a family worn down
giving and giving when they don’t even ask
bright words full of bumblebees and sun
for each soul you look into and see a bit of yourself
just as lost
and I’ll wonder late at night
how can I be like the girl who inspires
admitting her flaws to the world with love love love
I’ll try
I’ll try
like so many others
to be the person you embody
forgetting your impact on the world
they don’t know your story
but many of us see
little bits of a person who continues to try
when the world crashes down
full of good, always good
and I hope the next one who spits dirt from their mouth
is drowned out by the souls you blessed with some sun
inspired when they too were lost on their path

Miriam K, times are tough, but you persevere

some words for my friend @poetbitesback