stack house

14 Lines From Love Letters Or Suicide Notes

(reposted by request. cheers.)

 
14 Lines From Love Letters Or Suicide Notes.

1. Don’t freak out.

2. We both know this has been coming for a long time.

3. I have been staying awake at nights, wondering if I should tell you.

4. I bought the kind of crackers you like. They are in the hall cupboard.

5. Now that we have watched all the episodes of True Blood, I do not know what else to do next.

6. I have just been too afraid for too long.

7. This is the kind of thing where waiting for the time to be right would just mean waiting forever; it’s the kind of thing no one else can help you decide.

8. I came home on Thursday and found all of the chairs in the house stacked in a pile in the center of my kitchen; I don’t know how long they have been like that, but it must have been me that did it. It is the kind of thing a ghost might do, to prove to the living he is still there. I am haunting my own apartment.

9. My grandmother was still alive when I was five years old and she told me to check if the iron was hot enough yet, so I pressed my hand against it, and it was red and screaming for hours. Twenty five years later she would still sometimes apologize, in the middle of conversations, I feel so bad about making you touch the iron, she would say, as though it had just happened. I cannot imagine how we forgive ourselves for all of the things we didn’t say until it was too late. But how else do you tell if something is hot but to touch it?

10. I imagine my furniture in your apartment.  

11. I wonder how many likes it will get on facebook.

12. My dad always used to tell the same joke, but I can’t remember the punch line.

13. I was eight years old and it took three weeks (three eight year old weeks— imagine) to gather everything I needed to be Batman. Rope, boomerangs, a mardi gras mask with the beads cut off. I couldn’t find a cave near my house, so I buried them all in a bundle under the ivy. For years after,

I tried to find that spot again.

          The ivy grew too fast.

              I searched in so many spots

it seemed impossible I had missed any.

But I never found it.

How can something be there

       and then just not be there?

         How do we forgive ourselves

             for all the things we did not become?

14. I was never bold enough to buy bright green sheets. I wanted them, but always thought they were too brash, even with no one but me to see them. I bought a set yesterday and put them on the bed. I knew that you would like them.

—-

9

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The Bookstore

Hey guys! It’s me again, and I sorta wanted to write a Tom meet-cute because I daydream about those 25/8? This is just soft, fluffy and sweet, I hope you like it!
Author’s note: Tom is my screensaver and I went to Barnes and Noble today and the girl that was ringing me up was really, really nice and we were talking about Marvel because I was buying a comic, (I finally found Spider-Man Blue, three cheers for me!) and she was literally like, “oh my gosh, you and Tom would be super adorable together! I can just see it now!” And I sort of died? So this is just a story branching off of that?
The Bookstore
“Is that your boyfriend?” The saleslady asked, referencing the girl’s phone, as a smile that stretched from ear to ear crossed over her features. “He comes in quite often, has mostly good taste in books, although, sometimes his choices are questionable at best. Likes fantasy and adventure, some good, some not.”
The girl’s eyes widened and her mouth flopped open and shut like a guppy’s as she attempted to stutter out an appropriate response.
Tom Holland was the girl’s screensaver, and no, he most definitely wasn’t her boyfriend because he had no idea that she existed. Even if he had stumbled across her fan account, she’d just be another fan to Tom, maybe she’d even stand out for being an ultimate creep.
“He’s a very polite boy, you’re so lucky! My daughters are only interested in self-obsessed assholes.” The lady began to scan her choices, continuing to rant about her daughter’s apparent bad taste in men.
The girl was still struggling to comprehend her situation. The saleswoman clearly knew Tom, who apparently came in often, as did she, so she couldn’t really say that he wasn’t her boyfriend without looking like an utter and complete weirdo.
Pondering, she bit the inside of her cheek. Their paths had never crosses, so what could be the harm in indulging in a little fantasy? “We’ve been dating since last Spring,” She said, not daring to look into the kind eyes of the saleswoman.
“Ah, I see. I bet you two look absolutely adorable together, maybe turn him onto some high quality literature next time he comes in, eh?” The woman smiled from across the counter, waving the girl’s new Philip Roth books in the air before handing them over.
Reaching for her five purchases, the girl smiled and nodded, “I’ll do my very best!” She called and waved as she left the store.
Over the next few days, Tom wandered back into the bookstore. Navigating his way down the store’s narrow aisles, Tom searched for something that he could read on the plane that he’d inevitably be boarding sometime soon. He paused every so often to pick up a book, glance over the summary on the back, and reshelve it to it’s proper home.
After shuffling down another section, he came across the very same saleswoman who had helped the girl moonlighting as his girlfriend.
“How come you guys never come in together? She knows some good authors, I’m sure she’d love to help broaden your horizons.” The saleswoman said, maintaining her position, crouched over to straighten and tidy the shelves.
Tom looked around, unsure of who the woman was speaking to, because as far as he knew, none of his friends knew about this store. They opted for Barnes and Noble, while he prefered to dig.
“Yes, you. I just met your girlfriend and she’s lovely. Great taste in books.” The woman said again.
Scratching his head, Tom wasn’t exactly sure what to say, so he played along, not wanting to be rude. Surely she must be confusing him with someone else, because he didn’t have a girlfriend to share books with, as much as he’d like one.
“Yeah, we just have different schedules, she’s usually in class when I peruse the bookstore.” Tom said, bending down to help the woman on the floor.
“She’s very cute, and very sweet. It’s nice to see young people reading something that isn’t their twitter feed.” The woman said, taking one last glance at the fixed up shelf, before nodding decisively and standing up.
Tom stood as well, chuckling, “My Dad’s an author, so reading has always been apart of my life.”
“You guys are lovely, let me know if I can be of any help.” The woman began to walk away and Tom shook his head and laughed.
“How do you know that my girl is my girl? We never come in at the same time.” Tom asked suddenly, curiosity leaking into his bloodstream.
“She comes in more often than you, buys more books than you, and you’re her screensaver. It’s quite cute, actually.” The saleslady called out.
There it is, Tom thought, she might be a fan. He couldn’t think of any other reason that he’d be her screensaver. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Tom smirked and picked out not one, but two books. One to leave at the register for her the next time that he came in, and one for him to read while he was on the press tour.
“That is so thoughtful! She’ll love it!” The woman said from behind the cash register, clapping her hands together. “I’ll make sure that she gets it, alright? Wanna put a little message in it, promise I won’t peak! I’ve got a pen right here!” She chirped happily.
“Yeah, alright, I’ll actually do that. Could I please borrow your pen?” Tom asked.
Drawing a heart to conclude the note to his ‘girlfriend’ that he’d never met, he said thank you one to the lady one last time and left the store.
The very next morning, the girl pushed her wallet back into her purse at the bookstore’s register, waiting for the same saleswoman to finish ringing her up.
“Saw your boyfriend yesterday, left a little something for you.” The saleswoman smiled, turning around to sift through the books on display behind her to find Tom’s choice for the girl.
The girl felt the fiery licks of scarlet coloring her skin again. Her hands shook, surely Tom thought that she was a mega, ultra stalker. He’d probably left her a note begging her to kindly fuck off. She wished Mother Earth would swallow her up the same way it did to Sita in ‘The Ramayana.’
“Don’t be embarrassed, silly, it’s endearing.” The woman handed her a book titled, ‘Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair’ by Pablo Neruda. “He’s paid for it, of course, and he left you a little note on the first page. Lent him the pen myself.”
“He really shouldn’t have,” the girl stuttered, her hands almost noticeably shaking as she held the book within her palms.
Inside, Tom had scribbled out,
Seeing as you’re my girlfriend, I thought it was only fitting to leave you at least twenty love poems. Left you a song of despair as well, seeing as we haven’t met yet.
Love always,
Your devoted boyfriend, Tom

“Could I go back and pick one out for him as well?” The girl asked, feeling a tiny bit braver after reading Tom’s cheeky message for her.
“Of course! I love this, I wish more couples did things like this for each other, it’s endearing!” The saleswoman smiled, shutting the register.
After picking out an appropriate novel, she left the store, smiling, blushing and practically gliding on air.
Later that very afternoon, Tom was chased by the overbearing coldness of the afternoon breeze, and his own excitement over whether or not she’d received his present, back into the bookstore.
Not even bothering to look at anything, he came to a halt in front of the saleswoman, who upon seeing him enter, tore through her display to retrieve the novel that she’d left for him.
“Did she get it? Did she like it, I haven’t heard from her yet.” Tom asked, beaming at the woman.
“She loved it! She loved it so much, in fact, that she’s left one for you as well.” She handed him a novel called ‘One Day.’ “She’s left a love note for you as well!”
Tearing the book open, Tom came across her delicate handwriting sprawled in black ink.
Here’s to hoping that I meet you one day.
With all the love in my heart-
Your mystery girlfriend
Fighting the urge to hug the book closer to his chest, Tom made a choice.
“I’m going to go pick her a book out right now, and I’m going to wait right here until she comes back in. I want to give her this one in person.” Tom turned on his heel to search for the perfect book for to give her, when the saleswoman informed him that she’d already been in today.
“Alright then, I’ll be back first thing tomorrow.” Tom blushed, but continued on his way down through the shelves, desperate to find the perfect book for her.
Deciding on ‘You,’ by Caroline Kepnes, Tom paid and left the store, planning to return right when the bookstore opened.
The very next morning, Tom was perched in a cushy, plush chair, obscured by stacks and shelves housing novels, waiting for her. He’d positioned himself perfectly, ensuring that he could see the register at all times, but that the people at the register wouldn’t be able to spot him, unless they knew where he was hiding.
He was completely on edge. Every time the door opened, he’d practically leap to his feet, only to be met with disappointment because mostly everyone who wandered in off the street was either male, or too old to be his mystery girlfriend.
Finally, when Tom had all but lost hope, a girl so otherworldly beautiful that Tom truly debated in his mind whether or not the girl was even a girl, he briefly wondered if she was an ethereal fairy of sorts, floated into the room.
Her hair reflected light the same way that waves in the sea did, and her voice was so soft and warm that it sounded as he imagined his favorite hot drink would taste. She waved hello to the saleswoman before diving into the poetry section, hidden deep within the store.
Jumping to his feet, Tom rushed to finally meet her, rolling the book he planned to give her in between his palms.
Checking his hair one more time, Tom came to a stop next to her.
“Excuse me miss, I was just wondering if you happen to be my mystery girlfriend, who apparently has better taste in books than me?” Tom’s confidence was evaporating as she turned around to face him.
She was even prettier up close and Tom wanted to scratch his own eyes out for beginning the conversation with such a shit line.
Thankfully, she smiled, a strawberry jam colored blush widening across her delicate features. “That would be me, but unfortunately, you’ve caught me off guard and now I don’t have anything to give to you.” Her eyes refused to meet his own for more than a few seconds.
She could barely believe any of this. First, her celebrity crush and her happened to both shop at the same bookstore. Then, he goes along with the charade of being her boyfriend, and even leaves her gifts, and now, he was standing in front of her.
He looked like Prince Charming and her brain was turning to mush.
“Lucky for you, I don’t mind. But, I do have a book for you.” Holding the novel, ‘You,’ out to her, he began to sway from foot to foot, nervous that she’d hate it.
“Funny enough, that’s one of my favorite books,” She laughed, “But are you planning to kill me?” She referenced the plot of ‘You,’ which was more or less a horror story, hardly the conventional romance.
Stuttering, Tom attempted to clear his name. “I just thought it was fitting, seeing as we met in a bookstore, and so did Joe and Beck,” the main characters who become romantically involved in the novel, “And really, I just wanted you to have the line about the mouse in the house.”
“Are you going to get a cat to chase me out?” She teased, and Tom laughed.
“Absolutely not, you’re just all I’ve been thinking about. I wanna know you, and learn from your apparently epic choices in literature.” Tom said, leaning in closer to her.
“Than sit, and I’ll pick you something out?” She questioned, shyly moving to sit on the floor, her arm curled around more than a few options.
The pair scooched into one another one the floor, and the saleswoman watched, smiling from her spot at the register. Her two favorite customers were finally together.
Her eyes twinkled as she turned the radio onto a station that played only love songs.
They read love poems, and love stories together, so it only seemed fair that they listened to only love songs as well.

“When I was thirteen my dad, my older sister and I moved from Cleveland, OH to Wilmington, NC and rented an old one-story house. It had two living rooms separated by a wood-paneled wall. We didn’t use the side that you had to enter through the kitchen. We just stored boxes in that side of the house. We all were kind of depressed because we lived in Cleveland for ten years and we missed our friends.

We only lived there for 6 months after things got intense. It was the only place that my dad ever broke the lease. It started out innocent enough. My dad worked long hours so my sister and I were always home alone and we watched a lot of Johnny bravo and power puff girls. We noticed a long scratching sound one night and she muted the TV. It was coming from the wall behind the TV. The room on the other side was the unused living room. We both went to check but there was nothing there. We told our dad the next day and he put out mice traps but they never caught anything even though the scratching sound continued.

I started sleeping in her bed most nights after that. One night we heard banging in the kitchen but we were too scared to look. In the morning we went out and my dad was making breakfast. He asked us why we opened all the cabinet doors and said that if we did have mice then they would get into the food. We didn’t but we didn’t tell him about the noises.

One morning at breakfast my dad asked me if I remembered anything from the previous night. I said no and he told me what happened. He woke up and I was standing at the foot of the bed staring at him. He was spooked and said my name. I didn’t respond and he told me to go to bed and I just stood there. Then I walked to his window and stared out of it. He asked me what I was doing and I said her crying is keeping me up. He said no one is crying and told me to go to bed. I said okay and walked out. My dad is very no nonsense and doesn’t believe in ghosts at all but he looked really unsettled. My sister looked horrified. She wouldn’t let me sleep in her bed anymore.

About a month before we moved away my sister and I were watching TV. She turned it off and said she had to tell me something. When I was at school she was on the computer. The computer desk was against the wall that had two glass sliding doors with 4 floor to ceiling windows. The doors led to a closed in sun room. She said all of a sudden the glass sliding doors and windows started violently shaking. No windows were open and nothing else in the house shook. And we didn’t live by railroad tracks.

One day it happened to me. My sister was in Cleveland visiting friends and my dad was at work. I was on the computer reading fanfiction. When all of a sudden the glass doors and windows violently shook. I instantly started crying and ran out of the house. I sat on the driveway until my dad came home. I told him but he didn’t dismiss it. He just looked away. I asked if it ever happened to him and he said yes.

A couple weeks later I shot up in bed alerted by loud noises in the kitchen. They immediately stopped. I heard my dad’s door and my sister’s door open. I came out too and my dad turned on the light. One kitchen chair was on the floor. One was on top of the table and the other two were on their backs. We all slept in my dad’s bed that night.

We moved to Chattanooga, TN two weeks later.”

By: Princess_PeachX (Creepypasta are great, but does anyone have any good true creepy stories?)

flickr
Concept 4:

Stiles is drunk. The party slides around him in washes of color and sound– everything transient, nothing sticking. Bass thumps in his eardrums, turning his stomach. Derek appears as a blessing, half out the door before he even makes it through the foyer, but still the most solid thing Stiles has seen all night.

“I hate this,” Stiles whispers, his breath hot against Derek’s sensitive ear. “You’re the only person here worth talking to.”

“Okay,” Derek says, his hand settling solid and reassuring on Stiles’ hip. “So let’s go somewhere that isn’t here.”

EDIT:

“What were you even doing there?” Stiles peers at Derek curiously over the rim of his mug. The coffee isn’t quite strong enough to dissolve tooth enamel, but coupled with the brisk walk from the rave to the diner, it’s doing wonders for counteracting his buzz. “A warehouse party isn’t really your scene.”

Derek shrugs, placidly plowing his way through a mountain-high portion of chicken souvlaki. His knees keeps knocking against Stiles’ under the chipped Formica tabletop, and Stiles can’t find it in himself to pretend to mind.

“Didn’t really look like your scene, either,” Derek says, meeting Stiles’ gaze unblinkingly. His wackadoo eyes make Stiles’ head spin, and it’s easy to blame it on the booze. Bourbon, Stiles thinks admonishingly. When will you learn that bourbon is not your friend.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” he huffs, darting his hand across the table to snatch a few of Derek’s fries, nearly knocking a glass of water over in the process. Derek rolls his eyes heavenward with a sigh, and then rotates his plate so that the truly impressive mound of deep fried potato is facing Stilinskiwards. Stiles bites down on a victorious whoop, and grabs another handful to cram into his mouth.

Derek watches him chew happily, his ridiculous eyebrows drawn together in the expression Stiles has categorized as “exasperated but fond.” It’s much preferred to the look that Stiles used to get, which was better classified as “imminent manslaughter”.

“So, this is nice,” Stiles begins, at the same time Derek sets down his fork and says, “Scott told me about your fight.”

Keep reading

some supa good slam poems(-:

here’s a list of some of my favorite slam poems because slam poetry is beautiful and wonderful and incredible and lovely and everything

sienna burnett- “U Fine?”

“my mother has a texting language all her own and when she asks, “U Fine?” this means somewhere, very recently, there was another bullet-stop ending. there was another trigger parade.”

karina stow- trigger warning

“i don’t believe in lying to children, but when she asks me what’s wrong i still tell her the storybook version; i tell her that once, a bad man broke into my home. i wish i’d also told her that bad men look like respectable young men–trigger. that bad men will compliment your nana on her lemon squares. bad men write love poems- trigger. bad men smile so wide they will swallow you and you, you will convince yourself you asked him to.”

don luben- 14 lines from love letters or suicide notes

“i came home on thursday and found all of the chairs in the house stacked in a pile in the center of my kitchen; i don’t know how long they have been like that, but it must have been me that did it. it is the kind of thing a ghost might do, to prove to the living he is still there. i am haunting my own apartment.”

tucker bryant- facts about myself

“but being built like a short story is a lesson in finding other ways to be the tallest tale in the room.”

sarah kay- love letter from a toothbrush to a bicycle

“i know about your rough edges and i have seen your perfect curves, and i will fit into any spaces you let me. if loving you means getting dirty, bring on the grime, i will leave this porcelain home behind.”

savannah brown- i wish i was (a flaw examination)

“i wish i was more interesting but that might be one of those things where
everyone else thinks i’m interesting, but i don’t because i’m me and i know i spend most of my days wearing pajamas in my room, which isn’t that interesting.”

phile kaye- beginning, middle, and end

“like the night you thought you were invincible, ran out into the lightning storm with a million keys tied to a million kites, and a clench in your jaw that said, “take me with you, goddammit, i dare you.” and the week you finally reached out to feel your father’s cheeks and just found paper cuts.”

dia davina- emergency room

“dont touch my heart when it’s thundering. you wouldn’t swim in a lightning storm, would you?”

melissa newman-evans- 9 things i would like to tell every teenage girl

“you remember that metaphor about killing you being stealing your voice? sometimes…the world will actually try to kill you. you’ll never deserve it.”

desiree dallagiacomo- sink 

“is that not living? being so close to death that you paint it on your skin?”

Book haul from my April 2017 Little Free Library hunt. Found some gems and cute books for the kids at work. We also dropped off some old books and ARCs per the take a book, return a book code. I’m lucky to have almost 20 of these little libraries in my area. Today we went to about…12.

Newt Scamander x Bookworm!Reader Headcanons

A/n- this popped into my head, hope you’re all having a lovely valentines day


-You at first trying to hide your ‘slight obsession’ from Newt because you thought that he might find it strange like those you had previously been in a relationship with


- You being entirely wrong, as your love for books only made Newt fall faster and deeper in love with you


-The two of you having simple yet serene dates at libraries, coffee shops, and in the park under shady trees as the sun warms your faces, enjoying one another’s company while holding hands and discussing your current read


-When the two of you move in together, half of the boxes are just filled with both of your books.


-Books can often be found everywhere in your flat, from resting on their shelves to laying strewn about the counter or even in stacks around the house


-building blanket forts and cuddling on winter days


-Newt holding you closely and comfortably when you begin to sob about the death of a beloved character, as he understands the type of attachment you hold towards them


-Getting so excited about a new book that you’re jumping around and rambling, and he finds this absolutely adorable


-There’s just something about the way your eyes light up about a character or scene between the lines of the tattooed pages that tugs at his heart, wrapping it in a warm and gentle grasp of affection


-Reading stories to the creatures


-At first it’s just a few, but as you begin to do it more frequently, more begin to curl up around you as you elaborate on far off lands filled with adventure and romance and suspense


-the scents of brewing coffee and tea intertwine with that of fresh scented candles in your home daily


-Helping Newt with his own book, and of course giving him encouragement and cuddles when needed


-You asking for Newt’s help when you can’t reach for your favorite book on the highest shelf because he’s so much taller than you are.


-Newt smiling to himself whenever he finds you after you’ve fallen asleep on the couch near the fireplace. Your hair is splayed while a book rests on your chest, rising and falling with each breath, and your innocent state is beautiful to him.


-He would then scoop you up, after bookmarking your book of course, as you sleepily whisper between kisses


-Newt would also become needy for attention when you spend hours on end busy reading, when all he wants to do is cuddle you.


-“Newt, I’m at a really good part, I promise I’ll come back down in a bit.”


-“Y/n….you’ve been saying that for the past hour…”


-Newt giving up, and just taking you in his arms then and there, nuzzling his head into your hair with his arms firmly around your waist


-You poking fun at how cuddly he was acting and at how he was jealous that the book was getting all of your attention instead of him, even though he denies it.


-him taking you to bookstores frequently because he loves how you turn into a giddy little child in a candy store at the sight of everything


-Newt peppering you with kisses as he passes you a mug of coffee/tea/cocoa knowing that it will help you conquer the day since you stayed up all night reading again


-He loves you for exactly who you are, and he thinks your passion and excitement are not only beautiful, but unique, and he wouldn’t want you to change who you are for anyone

Masterlist:

http://unscriptedtimetraveler.tumblr.com/post/156427727241/masterlist-thing

anonymous asked:

Wait what if aliens from a super big planet visit one day and they're absolutely amazed by the idea to stack houses on top of eachother? Like what if seeing an apartment or hotel makes them scared

“These residences are TALLER THAN OUR SPACE CRAFT WHAT IS THIS MADNESS???

“Perturbed Paths”

Ever since I saw this farm with it’s lovey striped field, I’ve been hoping to catch a nice sunset over it. On this evening it was looking like it was going to be a good sunset, but the best part was mostly hidden from view by low flying clouds. (that’s why there’s breaks in the paths of the clouds) not long after I shot this timelapse, I was a little sad to see the field was all dug up so they could install pipes for irrigation. Hopefully the stripes will be back next year, along with a good sunset.
I made this time stack by combining 255 photos into one image.