#oldcoronas

the lie smells like something burning   ,   chemicals and wood and ice   .   it smells like a boy left alone too long   ,   like sadness but not sadness   ,   something deeper   .   more tangible   .   like she could reach out and TOUCH   ,   if she tried   .

doesn’t   .   how do you PUSH a boy who looks like he may snap in half at the slightest of presses   ?   cassandra   ,   with her harsh hands   ,   her armor skin   —   she knew the feel of a blade better than a warm touch   .   how was she supposed to help a boy with big eyes   ,   rabbit  -  fast gaze   ,   like he didn’t know how to settle for too long   ?

❛    i do   ,   sometimes   .    ❜      the threads of a gentle smile   ,   like she’s trying to be open but doesn’t quite know how to get it right   .   like she’s trying to be as soft as she feels inside   ,   sometimes   ,   warm like a blossom before she plucks off the petals   ,   tucks them away   .      ❛    if you don’t   ,   that’s fine   ,   too   .   but i do   ,   sometimes   .    ❜      doesn’t say   ,   sometimes   ,   the nightmares were real   ,   are real   .   sometimes i am never enough   .   sometimes i am too much   .   sometimes everyone is dead and i am carrying the knife   .   sometimes everyone is dead and i couldn’t save them   .   sometimes i touch the darkness and it never leaves again   ,   even after i open my eyes   .

doesn’t say it   .   she knows when too much is too much   .      ❛    having nightmares doesn’t make you weak   .   you just have to try not to let them swallow you whole   .   they’re just   —   bad dreams   .    ❜

❣- A memory that leaves them laughing

OHHHH MY GOSH. i wanted to answer this immediately. i actually read this SO MANY times and went back to my own  writing  and read it lovingly !! TBH.. I WAS THINKING THE SAME THING.. not to be conceited ( yes, to be conceited ) ..but i had a lot of pride yesterday how i was demonstrating my words and how unique everything was ? ive been trying for SO long to demonstrate a very unique style, and this is the first time i am recognized for smth. 

i’m so touched you were just reading my writing to read it ! i hope you continue to love it. also, you’re so sweet and kind. have a fantastic day !!

Her magic rests in the pit of her belly, warm and pulsing like a heartbeat, and wanting out, out, the magic of such an elemental thing as sunlight never meant to be contained in a fragile mortal body. Her fingers scrabble futilely at the cold metal chaining her feet to the floor, and the magic thrums in her veins at the physical sign of threat.

history books can only tell you so much about the life you were robbed of but you start at the beginning. 

CORONA     :     1790 - 1800

they called it the sundrop flower, believing it fell from the heavens for the purpose of blessing their kingdom. you know that wasn’t the case. it had been quite certainly an accident. a trollhunter messing with the power of daylight, littering failed attempts across the plushness of a country side that they were likely to never see again. but use came out of it; it saved a queen, birthed a princess, forged a fairy tale that suckled off the barest scraps of a world infinitely more fantastic than the story they, i.e humans, made. 

you were born to a farmer and his wife and before you were even weened from the milk of her breasts you were replaced. stolen away like a single missing note in a grand orchestra     :     over looked, of no consequence, but ever so subtly changing the song.  

THE DARKLANDS     :     1800 - 20XX

if ever there was love in void, you had found it. green monsters ushered around you as nursemaids, cool fingers calming baby smooth skin. there is not much to say about this part of your life. somewhere in the world above wars were being fought, darkness was rising. you did not care, as infants are not swayed by political leanings. you lived a happy life of sedated humanity. and then you died.

PRESENT     :     2018

one day maybe when the light doesn’t blind you and warm air doesn’t make you feel like fire is feasting upon your skin, you will go to the surface. you were brought to the trolls for protection. maybe it was luck that you were able to find love as well. for a month you aged at the rate of a mayfly and then stopped at 15 or 16. you assumed this was because you died at this age     -     the changeling who had been you decided to glamour himself at this age. you are naive but not ignorant which came to a surprise to everyone but yourself. why should you be? you live’d for hundreds of years, connected to a body in another plane of existence. 

his memories are not your own, his thoughts are not your own. but you know how to speak, how to write, how to fix things and do a cartwheel. you know that you love ham but hate turkey without such sensations having ever passed your lips. you were thrown into the life you were supposed to have without warning; knowing all that you would’ve know had you stayed but with none of the memories. it frightens you. 

you call him brother, or perhaps more accurately you will call him that. he is the son of the troll who took you in and you know that already your heart beats for both of them.

you call him brother, also, because he can be a pain in the ass.

❛ if you say one more thing about safety so help me goddess i will kick you in the shins. ❜

you know the act, were you to go through with it, would hurt you more than him and for some reason that made it an even more effective threat. 

hey wow ummm cutie alert? right here?