#userwesnihski

hey loves!!! i hit a small follower goal earlier this month, and i’ve been thinking of a way to celebrate it here. i only started being active on this blog recently, and i honestly never dreamed i’d come this far!! i’m incredibly thankful for all the wonderful people that follow my blog and every one of my mutuals, and to show it i’ll be doing this celebration, so here we go!!

rules:

mbf me 

reblog this post

maybe check out my writing??? (optional)

blacklist ‘jules does stuff’ if you don’t want to see this

send me:

a book/song recommendation or something about your day 

☾ + your name for a name aesthetic

♥ for mini blogrates & compliments

☀ for a blog or name playlist (include which one)

☽ + a description of yourself for personalised poetry/prose

i’m finally back from my semi-hiatus! i haven’t done these for a while, so here we go 

rules:

follow me 

reblog this (likes don’t count)

send me an emoji and your name 

+ check out my ig if you want! if you send me your username i’ll give you a follow back

the composer is dead; lemony snicket & nathaniel stookey

i. it was late at night. the moon was listening as i spoke. i knew it was her at once, her dark hair, her eyes that screamed at the universe to listen to her. there was blood on her hands, but i didn’t seem to mind as i drew breath to ask her my first question. “why did you do it?”

(she paused before answering me, her eyes lidded as if seeking an answer in the full darkness. opening them she lifted her face, looking down at me even though we were both sitting. did i write this down? we were at a cafe on 8th avenue, i had a cup of tea in my hands and she held in her stained fingers coffee. “do what? kill them?” she had asked me, and I’d tried to discern which medea i was seeing: the one euripides had described or the whispered myth. “i killed them, all of them, because i needed them.” she looked at me directly as she said, “don’t we kill all the ones we need now anyways?”)

ii. my second question. i knew somehow that i could only ask 3, and i felt that she was on the edge of her patience, she had to go somewhere i could not follow. “did you ever love?”

(she laughed then, a laugh rich and dark, like drowning in a glass of red wine, cloying fumes and heady scent. “love.” she smiled a close-lipped smile, “yes i did love him once. in a dream perhaps. or maybe i loved him with a love that didn’t exist just yet.” tilted head, raised eyebrows. “i think i loved him more than myself.”)

iii. my last question. she was already finishing up her drink, my tea was turning cold, and the rain was beginning to fall outside the window. the last question, and i say this selfishly, was for myself and only myself. “did you regret it?”

here is a list. i will return all these items, but some of them may not be in the same condition as when you left them. i am willing to provide compensation for any damage or loss. 

i. a brown envelope, unsealed and containing nothing. on it is written nothing. (i remember you gave it to me and told me i could send you anything, whenever.)

ii. a single petal fallen from a violet. it was found between the pages of my dictionary, under ‘L’ for ‘loss.’ (or maybe it was under ‘L’ for ‘love.’)

iii. your smell. tuberose, and something lighter. it reminds me of spring, and that summer we spent trying to hold on to all the flowers before they faded. (in fact, i think that’s where the violets came from. we put all of them in baskets, and some in vases, you put some in my hair. i told you it was useless: we could never put them everywhere.) 

iv. your smile. i cut open a blood orange yesterday, and every slice looked like it. (it even dripped red, just like yours. i always told you you looked like a girl who springtime fell in love with, and she loved you and burned you until you emerged full of light.)

v. a note stuck on the wall. it tells me to return the library books. (the funny thing is, the moment i met you, i forgot everything about borrowing. i just wanted to have.)