On Melancholy Hill

Jughead x Reader

The reader and Jughead are best friends, and whenever they want to talk, they meet by the tree on a hill. Based on the requested song: ‘On Melancholy Hill’ by gorillaz

Warnings: divorced parents

Word count: 2,256

A/N: lol can you spot the lyric i used as dialogue from Dear Evan Hansen bc i am trash? BC my HEART can’t TAKE it.

Originally posted by jughead-thethird


Up on Melancholy Hill

There’s a plastic tree

Sitting at lunch, I stare down at my food, not wanting to touch it. It doesn’t look appetizing. My friends are all conversing around me and I can’t help but just hear a bunch of white noise. I fiddle with a hair tie on my wrist, twisting it in and out and around my fingers, looking for anything to distract myself from my thoughts.

I’m normally not like this. Normally I’m talkative and involved in the conversation, looking people in the eyes. Lately though, I haven’t been feeling up to it.

Keep reading

the creaky wooden frame of a window i dreamt of falling out of

i sat in bed listening to the wind
as it pressed against the creaky wooden frame
of a window i dreamt of falling out of
and in my half conscious state
i closed my eyes and smelled coffee
and thought about how much i love your lips
and how much i love the wind
because when it blows through the trees
it makes the world feel so dramatic
and my life feel so


Mt Jersey blockade 

Tuesday 11th December 2012

Tree- sitter stops logging in far East Gippsland.

About 20 conservationists in Victoria’s far east have stopped logging for the second consecutive day, erecting a tree-sit tied to logging machinery. This area of forest, on Mt Jersey near Goongerah, had previously been zoned as a reserve for the endangered Spot-Tailed Quoll.

“The re-shuffle this year, of areas reserved or protected from logging, has opened up significant tracts of high conservation value forest and critical endangered species habitat to the chainsaw, and to a government that seems hell-bent on environmental vandalism”, said spokes person for the Goongerah Environment Centre, Mr David Caldwell.

“The wet forests of far East Gippsland represent one of the last areas of Victoria to remain unburnt by large fires in the recent past. As such they are essential habitat for endangered species of all kinds, and a repository of some of the last Old Growth forests on the Australian mainland. With the shocking decline and destruction of large old trees worldwide, it is vital that areas with Old Growth value are preserved for their diversity, and for the health of the planet”, he continued.

“A succession of State Governments have failed dismally to manage Victoria’s forests and timber resources in a sustainable way. There is no excuse for the further destruction of such valuable areas simply to have the woodchips pile up on the wharf at Eden with nowhere to go due to lack of demand. These protesters remain committed to this issue. Can the same be said of the State Government?”, Mr Caldwell said.

poem to a child who cannot see

As a teacher myself, I loved writing this one. Before I begin, I must share the name of the book that inspired me to write this. It’s called ‘The Black Book of Colours’ by Menina Cottin and illustrated by Rosana Faria. The illustrations are with raised lines and the book is also written in braille. I have had the enormous pleasure of reading this book to my students numerous times since it was first released. It’s such a wonderful and endearing gift for anyone with visual impairments as well as an eye-opener (literally) for anyone else, regardless of their special needs and/or age. If you ever get the opportunity to read this book, please give it some special attention; it is a must for your book shelf.

There’s a rainbow behind your eyes
Colours that only you can see
Just close your eyes and feel at home
We’ll go explore;
Come, follow me

The first one’s called red
It is how your heart beats
Feel the thickness in your blood
Over bruises and scraped knees
It smells of gardens of roses
It smells of apples on trees
It tastes like the inside of watermelons,
pomegranates, and strawberries

The next is called orange
It’s in the crunch of falls’ leaves
It’s the feeling of how the
sparks near a fire feels
It smells of wild pumpkin
It smells of nectarines
It tastes just as oranges,
clementines, and sweet tangerines

The third is called yellow
It’s the warmth of the sun
It’s the wheatgrass singing freely
in the fields as we run
It’s the smell of candles burning
The smell of sour leh-mons
It tastes just as sweet as banana treats
and mangoes, so yum!

The next is named green
Hear it in the forest’s breeze
Feel it in blades of grass
and in the summer’s leaves
It smells of mint and cucumbers
It smells of fresh peas
It tastes of lettuce, spinach, sour apples
It tastes like kiwis

The fifth’s name is blue
It’s the colour of the sky
You can hear it in the wings of bluebirds
as they sing in July
It smells of shallow lagoons
It smells of ocean waves so high
It tastes of blueberry cupcakes,
muffins and blueberry pies

The next is called violet
The last of the colours in the rainbow
You can hear it in Purple Martins
as they sing and put on a show
It feels like the lilacs in our backyard
Smells of wisterias planted by rows
It tastes of egg plants and plums
and how lavender gardens grow 

Keep this rainbow behind your eyes
A secret that only you can see
Just close your eyes and feel at home
As black is all you’ll ever need