Latest Posts by maysgarden - Page 2
Voting as Fire Extinguisher
by Kyle Tran Myhre
When the haunted house catches fire: a moment of indecision.
The house was, after all, built on bones, and blood, and bad intentions.
Everyone who enters the house feels that overwhelming dread, the evil that perhaps only fire can purge.
It’s tempting to just let it burn.
And then I remember: there are children inside.
![[ID: How do you tell someone you love / that you aspire to be a ghost?]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/206bf81dd7d51bac4ce352a335c1c04d/17d65d070aef0d2c-92/s500x750/224549be3124be4cacd4fc98af97fa7ba72794eb.jpg)
Pro Tip: The Way You End a Sentence Matters
Here is a quick and dirty writing tip that will strengthen your writing.
In English, the word at the end of a sentence carries more weight or emphasis than the rest of the sentence. You can use that to your advantage in modifying tone.
Consider:
In the end, what you said didn't matter.
It didn't matter what you said in the end.
In the end, it didn't matter what you said.
Do you pick up the subtle differences in meaning between these three sentences?
The first one feels a little angry, doesn't it? And the third one feels a little softer? There's a gulf of meaning between "what you said didn't matter" (it's not important!) and "it didn't matter what you said" (the end result would've never changed).
Let's try it again:
When her mother died, she couldn't even cry.
She couldn't even cry when her mother died.
That first example seems to kind of side with her, right? Whereas the second example seems to hold a little bit of judgment or accusation? The first phrase kind of seems to suggest that she was so sad she couldn't cry, whereas the second kind of seems to suggest that she's not sad and that's the problem.
The effect is super subtle and very hard to put into words, but you'll feel it when you're reading something. Changing up the order of your sentences to shift the focus can have a huge effect on tone even when the exact same words are used.
In linguistics, this is referred to as "end focus," and it's a nightmare for ESL students because it's so subtle and hard to explain. But a lot goes into it, and it's a tool worth keeping in your pocket if you're a creative writer or someone otherwise trying to create a specific effect with your words :)
influencers don’t get it. sure you can stage beautiful pictures of your beautiful self in your beautiful house in expensive workout gear without ever going to the gym. take a mirror selfie that isn’t actually a mirror selfie. it’s you holding your phone with another camera on a timer. get your 500k instalikes. sell tea that makes us shit. vitamin supplements we piss out. you will never have the impact of a girl blogger with 10 likes on a post about the strawberries she got on sale at the grocery store today. i love when social media is a diary. i love you mundane expression. i love you pictures of pets i love you casual selfies i love you weird lighting. i love you diary entries. i love you alive girl
1. A Game of Thrones - George R. R. Martin / 2. The Lovers - Akseli Gallen-Kallela / 3. The Ballad of Reading Gaol - Oscar Wilde / 4. Deathless - Catherynne M. Valente
✧°⋆ 𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞
————send in a word for a drabble or starter based on it.
abditory — a place into which you can disappear; a hiding place
alexithymia — the inability to express your feelings
alharaca — an extraordinary or violent emotional reaction to a small issue
aubade — a love song sung at dawn
balter — to dance artlessly, without particular grace or skill but usually with enjoyment
basorexia — the overwhelming desire to kiss
clinomania — excessive desire to stay in bed
forelsket — the euphoria you experience when you are first falling in love
groak — to stare longingly at someone who is eating in the hope that they will ask you to join them
jayus — a joke so unfunny and poorly told that you can’t help but laugh
morosis — the stupidest of stupidities
nedovtipa — someone who can not take a hint
nepenthe — something that can make you forget grief or suffering
querencia — a place from which one’s strength is drawn, where one feels at home; the place where you are your most authentic self
razbliuto — the sentimental feeling you have about someone you once loved but no longer do.
redamancy — the act of loving the one who loves you; a love returned in full
retrouvaille — the joy of meeting or finding someone again after a long separation; rediscovery
sphallolalia — flirtatious talk that leads nowhere
trouvaille — something lovely discovered by chance; a windfall
whelve — to bury something deep; to hide
Smut - | ☼ |
Fluff - | ♡ |
Angst - | ♥ |
The Return of an Empress | ☼ | | ♡ | | ♥ |
Genre: Isekai au, Angst, Romance, Fluff, Smut (Later on), Slow burn
Summary: After one fateful night, you find yourself transmigrated into your favorite novel as the Empress that shares the same name as you. As a bookworm, most would think you’d be ecstatic, but how could you be happy when the Empress you’ve become is expected to be killed in three months by the seven men she trusted most.
The only thing on your mind now is to try and convince everyone that the empress is a changed person, literally, but you’ll soon find out that proves to be difficult when seemingly everyone wants you dead.
| 01 | | 02 | | 03 | | 04 | | 05 | | 06 | | 07 | | 08 | | 09 | | 10 | | 11 | | 12 | | 13 | | 14 | | 15 | | 16 | | 17 |
| None yet |
| None yet |
| None yet |
| None yet |
| None yet |
| None yet |
| None Yet |
POST PLUS IS COMING, WHETHER YOU WANT IT OR NOT!
Despite the fancy survey, changes to the UI and TOS reveal we’re getting the service in the future whether we want it or not. Obviously, Post+ is a terrible idea that is trying to bank revenue on user content. Unlike patreon or onlyfans, tumblr’s primary focus is on FAN content. The legality of this is NOT in the users favor and as the new tumblr TOS states, said users will be entirely liable for whatever legal matters arise.
SO WHAT ARE WE DOING?
Besides filling out the survey, it’s time to show tumblr we mean business and show our displeasure by hitting them where it hurts.
Ad revenue.
We’re proposing a 24 hour log off as phase one of this protest.
WHEN IS THE PROTEST?
AUGUST 6th, 2021 12 am Eastern Time (US) 5 am Greenwich Mean Time 6 am Central European Time 8 am Moscow Standard Time 1 pm Australian Western Time 2 pm Japan Standard Time 3:30 pm Australian Central Time 4 pm Australian Eastern Time
AUGUST 5th, 2021
11 pm Central Time (US) 10 pm Mountain Time (US) 9 pm Pacific Time (US)
THE END TIME IS 24 HOURS FROM START TIME!!!
So no posting, no queues, no likes, and no reblogs!
WHAT IF I CAN’T/WHAT ELSE CAN I DO?
Like this post and share it AS MANY TIMES AS POSSIBLE. Use the hashtags #tumblrlogoff2021 or #postplusprotest on ANY and ALL social media.
WILL THIS WORK?
Maybe, maybe not. It’s an attempt at doing SOMETHING.
BECAUSE I’M A TIRED IDIOT, USE THIS TO DOUBLE CHECK YOUR TIME ZONE!!!!
tuesdays are for thieving
wednesdays are for quests
thursdays are for trading
fridays are for rest
Keep reading
new
Rating: G
Pairings: Choi Yeonjun/Kang Taehyun, Choi Yeonjun & Kang Taehyun, Choi Beomgyu & Choi Soobin & Choi Yeonjun & Huening Kai & Kang Taehyun, Choi Beomgyu/Huening Kai
Status: complete
Word Count: 27512
Summary:
yeonjun still reflects on the scandal that rocked bighit three years ago with a tremendous amount of regret, but time brings growth, and change is written in the stars. so maybe– just maybe– everything will be alright.
taejun lockscreens!! please like or reblog if you save it!! 🌿
Taehyun: On a scale from ‘damn Daniel’ to ‘Fre sha vaca do’, how are you feeling?
Kai: In between ‘it’s an avocado, thanks’ and ‘how did you defeat Captain America’ but as a solid answer I would say ‘I don’t need a degree to be a clothing hanger’ how about you Beomgyu hyung?
Beomgyu: Probaly road work ahead.
Yeonjun: I speak many languages and this is none of them.
Kai: sometimes my mind is like an Internet browser.
Taehyun: Explain.
Kai: 15 tabs are open, 7 of them are frozen and i don't know where the music is coming from.
<<. prev. two: barako. next. >>
— a jeno lee au prompt where idol!jeno falls for study vlogger!yn from across a computer screen.
*barako - a filipino term for strong, black coffee.
ok so i might update this slowly. i don’t know how long this will be, and i’m gonna take my time so i don’t pressure myself or lose interest in this.
taglist: @cookydream @bluejaem @luvlyjaemin @scintillasofbeomgyu @beemarkie @neodyng @doyoungssouthernbabygirll @kuroos-asshole
send me an ask to be part of the taglist !
MINTHOODIE, 2021. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
one: poca. next. >>
— a jeno lee au prompt where idol!jeno falls for study vlogger!yn from across a computer screen.
although i don’t have any plans of continuing this into a full smau anytime soon, this is by no means an excuse for anyone to take my idea and make it their own.
MINTHOODIE, 2021. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Spring Day | masterpost
— Summary: Becoming a part time english teacher wasn’t exactly the ideal startup you had hoped for yourself when you first moved to Seoul, South Korea. Luckily, you loved working with children and you were grateful to have found a well paying job with housing included so soon after university. Amongst your class, however, are 5 boys who seem to be constantly ostracized not only by the rest of the students but also by the other teachers and staff members. Becoming attached to you fairly quickly, you’re unintentionally tasked to be their permanent caretaker during their stay at school, even staying past the hours you were needed until they were picked up safely. However, what you didn’t expect was to catch the hearts of their seven older brothers, the leaders of a notorious and well known mafia family in Korea.
— Pairing: mafia!bts x poc!curvy!part time English teacher!reader x mafia!children!txt
— Genre: fluff, angst / poly!au / mafia!au
— Status: ON HOLD
— Warnings: bullying (verbal and physical), ostracizing, blood, violence, murder, death, insecurities, anxiety, hurt/comfort, sexual tension, implied (eventual?) smut
________________________________________________________________
Chapter 1: Golden Bell
Chapter 2: Magnolia
Chapter 3: Cherry Blossom
Chapter 4: Azalea
Chapter 5: Rapeseed
Chapter 6: Plum Blossom
**more chapters to come** :)
-ˋˏ txt + random angst prompts i think ab before i go to bed ˎˊ-
[ ༻❁༺ ] foreword : have i cried from said prompts before? yes.
[ ༻❁༺ ] warnings : angst, mentions of insults, infidelity, and implied death
[ ༻❁༺ ] genre : angst
the other members under the cut !
choi yeonjun ; he didn’t mean those words.
yeonjun held his breath as he realized the words that just left his mouth. the red he saw in his eyes dissipated into thin air, realizing the weight of his anger as he watched his hurtful attacks sink into your system. his hand twitched to reach out to you, his throat itching to say something, anything to take back what he just said. he didn’t think it would, or could escalate this far. his heart clenched as he watched you close your mouth, taking back anything you were going to say back to him. countless regrets were swimming in his head in that moment, and he was unsure if he could ever reverse the damage he already dealt.
he watched as you simply turned away from him amidst his growing self-loathing, his legs paralyzed as he watched you turn around and exit the door with tears pooling in your eyes. in the blink of an eye you were gone; truth be told, he didn’t know when he forced himself to stumble to the sofa and sit down, his breathing heavy and panicky. you weren’t in the wrong for any of this, he only had himself to blame. yeonjun had no excuse to lash out the way he did—you didn’t deserve to become his punching bag.
yeonjun sat in silence, unmoving as he hoped and prayed you’d walk back through those doors for a chance to explain himself and apologize profusely. he waited hours in the same position, zoning in and out of his thoughts with a rigid posture over the sofa. he needed to tell you he didn’t mean what he said. you should know, right? that he’d never do anything to hurt you.
but the longer he waited, the more he realized just how little of a chance he was going to get.
choi soobin ; you were almost enough.
you didn’t understand how soobin could be so cruel with pushing you away, his face void of any emotion as he placed his hands in his pockets. his words were indefinite, and though you tried so many times to see through his harsh attitude, all attempts were futile in the end. he was wicked enough to let you believe you were worth staying for, when you should’ve known the truth from the start.
—
it took soobin everything in him to stop himself from yelling out to you, his fingers shaking as he watched you disappear into the distance. did you not notice the way his voice faltered when he told you to leave? did you ignore how he purposely didn’t look at you? he was sure it was a sign he didn’t actually mean it. he’s the one who always told you that he didn’t mean anything he said unless he was staring into your eyes. his heart fell to his stomach as the image of you fading, lifting his hand to his face to the fresh feeling of crying.
you didn’t deserve to have your feelings toyed with, nor did you deserve to be treated like a game. soobin’s lips quivered as he clutched a fistful of fabric around his chest, unsure of what to do next. he was such a fool to let you walk away so easily, he was the idiot for not trying hard enough. even worse—you left thinking that you weren’t good enough. the words were there, right at the tip of his tongue—he knew he wasn’t worthy of you, nor your heart.
you left thinking you were almost enough for him to stay, but soobin stayed knowing you were always more than enough—and he’d never be able to measure up.
choi beomgyu ; you weren’t different from the rest.
there was a different kind of pain that traveled through beomgyu’s system as he came face to face with you, your face horrified at the scene before you. the body that clung to him, lips pulled with the smirk both you and him knew all too well. he didn’t even have the strength to pull away—how could he? you saw the damage he dealt. you saw how he broke his promise, his end of the deal. you didn’t even need to ask why—you had always known he would never be satisfied, even if facing the truth brought pain.
beomgyu couldn’t stop you as you simply feigned calmness, his face dropping as you smiled at him, nodding in understanding as you simply took the initiative to walk past him. he managed to pull his arm away from the other as he tried to follow you, but with each step he took, you seemed to walk faster. no words were shared between the two of you—he knew he messed up. the worst part was, he’d never get another chance to make up for it.
he promised he’d mend his ways for a chance with you. thinking about it now, beomgyu didn’t even know why he relapsed back into how he was before. he was better than those temptations, that the only physical contact he needed was with you. you warned him, so many times—you’d leave if he went back on his word. you reminded him over and over again, for fear you’d get hurt in the end. and he swore up and down that he’d never do anything to hurt you.
but in the end, you ended up being the same as everyone else. and he was left alone, back again at square one.
kang taehyun ; give up, he’s won the war.
taehyun didn’t realize just how much you knew of the enemy, how easy it was for him to slip up and get too comfortable with you by his side. he filled your visions of a romeo and juliet fantasy, where the two of you could run away together and start anew. and you fell for it—you fell for him. a perfect man, so charming, endearing—
until you found out he wasn’t.
his heart sank when he saw that knowing glint in your eyes—the one that told him that you knew everything he wished you didn’t. how he was in on the plan to use you for infiltration, to tie your heartstrings to the kite that would soar for his family, warring against yours. taehyun didn’t know how or when something changed in him, how your smile enchanted him in ways he promised his father he’d never succumb to. he wasn’t allowed to fall for the bait—yet his heart yearned for him to admit the truth when you appeared, tear-struck and betrayed in front of him.
he wasn’t allowed to apologize for the things he did—the plan was fool proof, he just happened to land in the worst case scenario. he created an apathetic facade as you tried to search for answers through him, looking for any sign that this was just a nightmare. he rooted his feet to the ground when you realized you wouldn’t get anything from him, clenching his jaw as you took a deep breath, wiping your tears before walking away.
taehyun was the reason they won the war, but he felt no desire to celebrate. what good was a victory, when loss was all he received in return?
hueningkai ; he’ll love you when he’s gone.
hueningkai didn’t know how to comfort you in such a heartbreaking time, reeling from the way you cowered into a corner when he appeared in your bedroom, his body translucent and shimmery—the way ghosts would appear in movies. his non beating heart wrenched in agony as you screamed profanities at him, yelling for the hallucinations, the misery to leave your head. he wanted to reach out and touch you, to comfort you that everything was alright.
his departure from this world was all too soon—there were so many things he wanted to do with you, to see with you. hueningkai wanted to stay with you. he watched you shrink into the corner of your bedroom, lethargically walking step-by-step forward to not alarm you. you had no more fighting power to throw anything his way—your chest heaved with pain as the ghost of your beloved knelt beside you, a sad smile on his lips as another round of tears welled up in your swollen eyes.
he didn’t know what to say, how to apologize for hurting you the way he did. he didn’t know how much longer he had left before he had to depart from this world—but he had to try. hueningkai reached forward and tried to caress your cheek with his thumb, gulping nervously as he watched you try to lean into his touch. he felt nothing, but the way you closed your eyes to imagine him next to you was enough for him to relax. no words were spared between the two of you as he spent his last moments with you, nothing but love shared between you two until he heard bells ringing from afar. he turned to you then, noticing how his own body flickered in front of you.
though you cried once more, you nodded and whispered goodbye, before you’d lose the opportunity for good. hueningkai left a final kiss on your forehead—a sign that he’ll always love you, even when he’s gone.
hi lovelies! i’m currently struggling a bit with one of my assignments, and i was wondering if any of you would be able to help me out 😔 i need to identify the subject/verb/direct-indirect object/adverb in four sentences, but it’s been years since i last did it + i have never been very good at it skdjs, so i’m very stuck atm :( the sentences are sorta complex as well, they’re not as simple as “jill bought icecream”, which is why i’m struggling a bit. if any of you are good at identifying these things and can help me, please let me know! 💖 i’m desperate 😔
MAP OF THE SOUL ON:E CONCEPT PHOTOBOOK
CLUE VER. PERSONA
I have emotional breakdowns over fictional characters. That's all you need to know about me.
Underworld Dreams
i feel the need to clarify that this isn’t fiction writing, that these are about real dreams and real events that happened to me, and i was just thinking of them and thought - i should write these down
i don’t remember my dreams, generally, and i don’t tend to put much stock in the meanings of dreams, generally
but sometimes i have dreams that are stickysharp, that are very vivid, and that feel very real to me for the first few seconds after i wake up, and then i’m always filled with an embarrassing amount of relief that no matter what’s going on in my life currently, those problems aren’t my problems
my friends call them my underworld dreams
~
the first one i had was one i was very young, less than six years old, and i don’t remember much from my actual life from that age with clarity that i remember this dream. i was alone on the street, searching for someone, but everything was empty. i wasn’t scared. then i come across two dogs, fancy poodles, but they’re not right. they see me and immediately begin arguing. “what’s she doing here? she’s not supposed to be here.” “get rid of her” “she’s here now, she might as well stay” “she’s not supposed to be here!” and i try and interrupt, but then they’re looking at me, looming, so much bigger than me when they hadn’t been before, until they’re all teeth, and i’m running. all i hear is barking, and i’m not nor have i ever been afraid of dogs, but i run and my chest hurts but no matter where i look i’m alone. the dogs aren’t there, aren’t chasing me, but i don’t know where to go. i look around and i realize that everything’s in black and white. that the only things that hadn’t been a shade of grey had been the those two dogs. life isn’t shades of grey, i remember suddenly, and i bend over to pick up one of the grey bricks lining the sidewalk. i hold it in both hands and break it in half and liquid cement pools from the broken brick onto the ground. “oh,” i say, with relief, “it’s not real. this is a dream. i can leave now.”
then i wake up.
~
my mother dies a week before my tenth birthday and i have a dream that i do not forget. i am in the front yard, looking down at the highway from the large sloping hill of our home, leaning against a birch tree.
there’s a car slowly rolling down our long driveway. once, when i was younger, i was left to play in the front seat of the car as it was parked on top of the long driveway. it was an old car. i moved something i shouldn’t have and the car started rolling and i screamed and screamed, knowing something bad had happened but not how to stop it, and then my mother’s boyfriend, who i hated, ran and jumped into the rolling car and slammed on the breaks.
i am not in this car. it is getting faster, no one to slam on the breaks, and then my mother is standing next to me. “i’m in there,” she says. “you could save me.”
i understand that this isn’t real. that my mother is dead and so she can’t be standing next to me. everything else seems so real and normal, but my mother is here like she hasn’t been for weeks, and that means this is a dream. i look at the car rolling down the hill and remember her casket getting lowered into the ground and i say, “no. you’re already dead. you have to stay dead, that’s how this works.”
she’s disappointed, but not angry, she stands next to me, silent, as we watch the car roll into the highway, watch it crumple, watch it roll into a ditch. when i turn to look at her, she’s gone.
then i wake up.
i’m not relieved. i feel guilty for not saving her, even in a dream, even when she was already dead.
i do not dream of my mother again.
~
my grandmother raised me after my mother died. my grandmother dies when i’m twelve and i do not dream of her when it happens.
i will, years later, but not then.
~
i’m in high school and i have another dream. i am in something between victorian england and modern day. everything is gray. i live in a small apartment.
children keep appearing at my door. i let them in, i feed them, i cloth them. i go to food banks and schools, searching for who these children belong to, but no one claims them, so i keep them. it’s so hard to keep them, but i can’t leave them.
some of the children get sick. i do my best, but some of them die.
i put the bodies in the closet and lock the door. i tell the other, living children not to go near the closet.
i go searching. dead children don’t belong in closets. i go to the hospital, but they say they will not take random dead children. i go to the police and they laugh at me, saying no one will take them, that i’ll have to get rid of them on my own.
i am angry and desperate but there is a part of me that is not surprised.
i go home. i will have to keep the dead children in the closet. the living children ask questions, reach for the closet, and i stand in front of it, standing between my dead children in the closet and the living children in front of me, knowing that they can’t open it, that i have to keep it closed, because if i open it then my living children will walk into the closet with my dead children and they will not come out.
then i wake up.
i do not have any dead children in my closet. the relief is sharp, but not sweet.
~
i have a loft bed in college because the tiny room i’m sharing in this small apartment is not big enough for us to fit two bed side by side.
i dream that i wake up in this bed, in a place that’s not my own. there are children there, that i know but do not recognize. they cry out when they see me and yell for me to climb down. i do and they grasp my hands, pulling me outside.
my grandmother is there. other people that i do not recognize but that i know are there. the children are my cousins. these people are my family. we are outside and it is beautiful and bright. the grass is green and soft.
i sit and talk with my grandmother as the children play. the children run off somewhere else.
“i’m so glad you’re staying,” someone who i thinks might be an aunt says, patting my hand.
the first curl of unease is easy to mistake for confusion. “no, i can’t stay, i’m just visiting.”
“visiting?” she says, pitying. “there’s no visiting. the dead have to stay dead. you know that.”
i am cold. the grass is still soft. it’s still beautiful. i do not want to stay.
my grandmother is sad, not pitying, when she says, “it’s too late. they’re burning the bed.”
i am running. i do not stop to say goodbye.
the house is burning. the children are tugging at the long legs of my loft bed, trying to to pull it to the ground, and all around me are flames. i run through them, ignoring the cries of my cousins as i climb into the loft bed, laying down and burying my face into my pillow that smells of smoke and heat just as the legs crash and i’m tumbling to the ground.
then i wake up.
my pillow does not smell of smoke.
~
it’s finals week and i dream that i’m in a cave. there are bars on the entrance, even though it just leads to even more cave, and guards and a warm yellow light coming from somewhere.
i am with people i do not know. they are not concerned about leaving. i am. i get the gate open, the guards aren’t around. “come on,” i say to everyone. “let’s go. we have to go.”
“it’s just a waste of time,” one of them tells me. “we can’t leave. where would we go?”
i don’t understand.
someone else puts a water bottle and a several packets of saltine crackers into my hands. “you’ll need this,” he says, not unkindly. “don’t lose them. it’s important.”
i can’t force anyone to come with me. the guards will be back soon. they should be here now. leaving seems too easy, suddenly, but it’s not like i’m going to stay, so i go.
the caves are confusing. it takes a long time to find my way out, and i drink most of the water and eat the saltine crackers. when i step out of the labyrinth of caves it’s too bright, brighter than it’s ever been.
i walk for a long time. i come across a field that is a mix of golden corn and golden wheat growing side by side in a confusing, impractical mixture.
i see a man, dark skin and greying beard, in grey overalls and a grimy henley that maybe didn’t used to be grey but is now. he has a scythe in his hands, leaning back and swinging it through the mix of corn and wheat.
the wheat falls to the side and the scythe passes through the corn, leaving it unharmed.
“can you help me?” i ask. “i need to go home.”
the man startles, looking at me. “you shouldn’t be here.”
“i know,” i say, “can you help me? i can’t figure out how to get home.”
he stares at me for a long moment, then nods, digging a small hole in the ground with the toe of his boot. “here. you kept them, didn’t you?”
he doesn’t specify, but i know what he means. i take out the mostly empty water bottle and the torn plastic packets of the saltine crackers. i shouldn’t have eaten them. but it was the only way to get out the cave.
the man sighs, as if i’m tiresome, and takes them from my hands. he empties the saltine crumbs into the dirt, then pours the last of the water on top. he directs me to stand on top of the hole, and i do, and he kicks the dirt in around my feet. “they didn’t have to help you. you’re lucky they gave those to you.”
i am. i would not have gotten out of the cave without them. i would not be going home without them.
the man takes a step backwards, leans back, and swings the scythe through me.
then i wake up.
my bed is soft and warm. i wonder if i was the corn or the wheat.
~
my cousin has been two years younger then me our whole lives and she is two years younger than me when she dies. it is strange to think that for the rest of my life my cousin will not age and i will. i live on the other side of the country to her. the last time i was home, i had a bus to catch and she was busy talking to her boyfriend, so instead of waiting to hug her goodbye, i left and said, “i’ll hug you extra hard next time,” and the pain is too familiar to be sharp.
i dream we are in a beach house like we visited once as children, but we are adults. i am delighted to be here, with my family, warm and content and safe. my cousin is there and we’re floating in the pool and i look at her and my easy contentment falters. something is wrong. i put my arms under her shoulders and knees, like i’m supporting a child who’s just learning how to float, and she looks very still and peaceful until she cracks open an eye to grin at me. “oh no,” i say say, looking at her, remembering, “you’re dead.” disappointment flashes over her face. i wasn’t supposed to say anything. i wasn’t supposed to remember.
then i wake up.
i dream we at a garden we’ve never been to. it is bright and easy and the moment i see her, i know that she is dead, but she does not. i don’t tell her, i let her drag me to look at roses bloom, and try to feel for coldness in her skin, but it’s warm. i make myself smile and she doesn’t make me let go of her hand and it’s so very warm here. for the first time i want to stay, but it’s not even a choice. she looks down at our clasped hands and when she looks up, her lips are tinged blue. “oh no,” she says, and i’m reaching for her, to pull her in to hug her extra hard, but i’m not quick enough, “i’m dead.”
then i wake up.
can you forget you’re dead? i wonder. can you forget you’re alive?
~
the last stickysharp dream i had was over a year ago, and it was this:
i am at the beach with all my friends. i love them so much. it’s hot and and the sand burns my feet so we are sitting on the shoreline, damp and hot and laughing.
there is a bright flash of light. it’s a bomb going off. i don’t know how i know, but i do, and i run.
you can’t outrun a bomb, but i try, my first instinct to flee and the hot sand is burning my feet. it takes me too long to realize that no one else is running, that they’re all standing perfectly still, watching their death coming for them.
my friends are still at the shoreline. the first shockwave is coming. i don’t have enough time to run back to them, even though i want to.
i die alone
then i wake up.
~
i do not remember my dreams, generally, and i don’t put much meaning into dreams, generally
generally
The Realists
by W.B. Yeats
Hope that you may understand! What can books of men that wive In a dragon-guarded land, Paintings of the dolphin-drawn Sea-nymphs in their pearly wagons Do, but awake a hope to live That had gone With the dragons?
I Don’t Know How Many Souls I Have
by Fernando Pessoa
I don’t know how many souls I have. I’ve changed at every moment. I always feel like a stranger. I’ve never seen or found myself. From being so much, I have only soul. A man who has soul has no calm. A man who sees is just what he sees. A man who feels is not who he is. Attentive to what I am and see, I become them and stop being I. Each of my dreams and each desire Belongs to whoever had it, not me. I am my own landscape, I watch myself journey– Various, mobile, and alone. Here where I am I can’t feel myself. That’s why I read, as a stranger, My being as if it were pages. Not knowing what will come And forgetting what has passed, I note in the margin of my reading What I thought I felt. Rereading, I wonder: “Was that me?” God knows, because he wrote it.
You okay, Archivist? Hope you're alright. We miss you! If you're taking time off because you need it, good for you! Treat yo' self! We'll be here when you get back! Just thought I'd check on you either way. Keep safe! You rock!
Thanks so much for the kind words! I’m all good, I was just fully caught up in a commission this week and didn’t realize the queue had run out. Posts will resume shortly!
Wait what it's been a year already? Huh, it didn't seem quite that long to me. Anyway, I see what you mean by cheeky - I like it, and that last part
"Are you decent?"
"Morally? No. But if you're wondering if I have pants on, yeah, you're good."
for some reason had me absolutely wheezing. Can't wait to see the next chapter 💖
<TEASER> No Harm List | Pt. 11
Warnings: None, a lil suggestive ig
Rating: PG 13
Word count: 577
A/N: wow okay. I really wanted to post an update in celebration of NHL 1 year anniversery! But that’s jusnot happening. So instead I am posting this short little teaser. I wrote this scene back in likee October, I think it’s so cheeky, so I hope you guys enjoy it when you give it a read. Please know this is very bold of me to post bc I do not have chapter 11 written or even drafter super well so I’m really commitmening myself to this moment here. But I hope it does spark joy! Thanks again for all the love and for making my first year as a writer so dang wonderful!
———————————–
You groaned as you rolled over. Even with your eyes closed, you could feel the morning sun mercilessly shining down on you through your eyelids.
You could tell you fell asleep without removing your makeup by the way your lashes seemed to resist when you moved to crack one eye open. They were nearly fused together by the clumped waterproof mascara you foolishly applied before going out.
You went to nuzzle your face deeper into your navy blue pillow, becoming all too aware of how your throat was dry and your tongue felt too big for your mouth before you remembered you don’t own a navy blue pillow. Your bedding was grey.
Your body went rigid as you took in the plush king-sized bed that was far nicer than the second hand full you furnished your apartment with, and smelled enticingly of a spiced cologne.
This is Hoseok’s fault.
You thought bitterly as you recalled his promise that he wouldn’t allow any one-night stands. He abandoned you and left you helpless to be lured by some sexy stranger. OR worse.
You felt like cold water was poured down your back at the potential that you weren’t in a stranger’s bed but in one of the members of BTS.
Oh god, oh god you had to get out quick.
You hoped out of bed your head spinning and your sore body protesting as you made your way to the windows. Your smooth thighs brushed together and you looked down to see you were not in your clothes from last night, but instead, an oversized olive green tee shirt that hung just above your knees.
You had to admit it’s more modest than what you wore last night. But being in a mystery lover’s clothing did leave you unsettled. You pat your bottom for a moment and smiled in victory when you confirmed your panties were still on.
You continued your dizzying journey to the window now more bodily aware. Your hangover wasn’t the worst you’ve ever experienced, but that didn’t mean it was comfortable when you pulled back the blinds slightly to peer through the window to try to get a check on your location.
You hissed at the morning light as you took in the familiar rose garden that lined the back of the Den’s property. Your stomach sunk at the view and you still don’t know if you rathered it be a stranger.
Suddenly you became aware of a lack of noise.
With a creak of a faucet handle and the groan of the pipes in the walls, you heard the shower come to a stop in the connecting bathroom.
Your heart raced as the chances of you facing your dance partner of the night came closer.
Ready to just bite the bullet and face your doom you made your way to the bathroom door and knocked lightly before pushing it open.
“Hey I’m so-AHHHHHH”
“AHHHHHHHH” Taehyung shouted back at you as he struggled to wrap his towel around his waist.
“Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!” you cried as you pulled the door shut.
Your breathing hitched in panic, and you struggled to slow it in your flustered state. After a moment of hearing him shuffle around the bathroom, you knocked again, louder this time.
“Are you decent?” You called hesitantly.
You swear you could hear his smirk through the door as he responded, “Morally? No. But if you’re wondering if I have pants on, yeah, you’re good.”
Come at my place tonight. You’ll reign over the skies. Part II. | “If this place was given to you, what would you use it for?”, by @iambrandon747 on IG.