Author: cheshireinunderland08

strawberryspaceship:

Tag List

So I’ve had a surge of followers (only like 7 away from hitting 200!!!) And figured I’d put out a post for this.

If you want to be on my tag list (moodboards, quotes, excerpts, etc.) Like/comment/reblog/somehow interact with this post.

If you’d like to check out my content: HERE is a post with organized links to all my content

Also! If you only want to be on the list for a specific WIP(s)/ type of content please either comment or message me so I know

from the mouth of a teenage medium

The thing about being a medium is  that you don’t get a choice. You see dead people everywhere and anywhere you go cause, lets be real, what place doesn’t have it’s fair share of ghosts?

You could go to a coffee shop and there could be a ghost in clothing from well over a hundred years ago sitting at one of the tables, moving whenever someone walked over to sit down. 

You could walk down a modern street and observe ghosts from half a century ago going about their daily lives as if they weren’t dead, pausing only when a car or a person walked through them.

You could go anywhere in the world, hospitals, forests, beaches or deserts and you would see ghosts.

Anshee knew that people that couldn’t see would find that sad.

She found it comforting.

bookishdiplodocus:

Reblog if you don’t write 1,000 words per hour

Don’t be intimidated by posts saying something like “I wrote 7k today!”

I will probably never write 7k in one day. And that’s okay. It really is. On an average day, 1k takes me two or three hours. But I enjoy myself, I like my writing and I know my wip will get finished someday if I keep working.

Shoutout to:

  • The writers who don’t write 7k per day
  • The writers who don’t write every day
  • The writers who actively procrastinate
  • The writers who love writing nonetheless

hair of oranges, eyes of coal, skin of snow

She doesn’t think they realise what being exposed to ghosts at a young age does to people. Not can do but does. She doesn’t think they realise what it’s like to listen to the wails of the dead every moment of your life.

How could they? She’d never given them any indication that there was something wrong with her.

Perhaps she was a little bit too quiet.

Perhaps she was too much of a loner.

Perhaps she was a little bit too morbid.

Still, there was no way for them to know just how twisted she was.

The seven girls in the cages that hung from the ceiling, barely alive, missing fingers as well as chunks and strips of flesh, could attest to just how messed up she was.

There was blood underneath her fingernails three layers thick, a ghost leaning on her shoulder, her eyes were bloodshot and there was a slightly cruel twist to her otherwise blank visage. 

She’d created ghosts of her own. 

The house wasn’t a big one. That wasn’t to say it was a small one. It was somewhere comfortably in the middle. The house sat in the middle of an island which was located somewhere in a lake of very green, sludgy water. It was made out of red bricks with a slate roof and a chimney, a dark green door with a small window and  a porch stuck out at the front with a rocking chair in the corner

Creatures that looked like crocodiles swam in the water, the wings that lay folded against their back marked them as being entirely different. A medium sized, lizard looking creature with dark iridescent scales was curled up beside the rocking chair like a dog.

Inside, the house looked like it had been decorated by an old woman, though the sole human inhabitant, Kaida, was only just 24. The wallpaper was cream with light blue flower buds. The fabric of the sofa was floral and the wood was a dark brown. Kaida’s armchair was made of light grey suede material and occupied by both cushions and a dragon sleeping in a fluffy sock.

Several displays of hyacinth flowers occupied a side table and a dresser, several small brown dragons with cracks running along their scales and greenery growing in-between the gaps were asleep around the vases. 

Amongst the coals and soot in the fireplace, a dark red dragon with small fired always lit on his horns and claws was fast asleep. Occasionally, he would blow smoke rings when he snored.

Sometimes I regret my argumentative nature…usually because it leads to fights and then regret. But I always come back to it…

It lead, for example, to me no longer really feeling close or even friends with someone once…I still feel that way sometimes too…