collective conversations

A Conversation (4)

Collection: Tim and Annie

Year: 1966

Characters: Annette Thompson, Timothy Turner

Content Warnings: none

Rating: K

Style: prose

Summary: "I don’t want him to be Uncle Tim.“The words stopped Tim in his tracks on the stairs. He’d been going down to see if Annie was alright. He hadn’t been expecting to interrupt anything, especially not something of that magnitude. Grabbing onto the banister to keep himself upright, he forced himself to remain silent. He couldn’t hear anything else, either they had stopped talking or were talking even quieter.

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Animal Crossing AU anyone??? 🍃

Words, you say, young girls in a circle, holding hands,
and beginning to rise heavenward
in their confirmation dresses,
like white helium balloons,
the wreaths of flowers on their heads spinning,
and above all that,
that’s where I’m floating,
and that’s what it’s like
only ten times clearer,
ten times more horrible.
Could anyone alive survive it?
—  Ai, from “Conversation,” Vice: New and Selected Poems
in my dream i spoke to medea, and i asked her this:

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?”

(she stood, and i felt for one stricken moment that she was going to leave. leave me with no answer, a tragic ending to me just as tragic as the one to her. but instead she simply smoothed out her hair and dress, and reached out for my hand. it felt smooth, as if there was no blood at all. “fools. people are always obsessed with regret.” she looked deeper into me. “but you really need an answer, don’t you?” my voice was mute and i heard nothing as i said yes. but she seemed to hear and understand, of course she did. how could one judge when you murdered like drawing breath, when you fell to wolves of passion and let them swallow you whole? “no. no i don’t. this is my end, there is nothing left to regret. why would i? i loved with a love like hatred, i held death in my heart, i sang a siren’s song with my words. and yet i was medea, i was broken, but i was more.” with that she let go of my hand, and stepped out of the cafe, and as the rain kissed her, welcomed her, i saw blood begin to drip onto the stones off the road, from her outstretched palms.)

radio rebel | pt.1

Hey, I just would like to request this song to someone who means a lot to me. I love you very much and I hope you know who you are just by listening to this song.

➤ pairing: jungkook x reader ; radiohost!au, DJ!au, college!au
➤ words: 4.1k words
➤ genre: neutral angst, potential fluff in future chapters
➤ summary: jungkook finds himself torn between falling in love with the anonymous radio host of the local radio station and the quiet girl from his english class. because truthfully, they both seem so similar and its bothering him the hell out.
➤ a/n: i’m back,,,,,,,,,,,,,from,,,,,,the dead,,,,, BUT HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY TO MY SWEET ROASTED POTATO @wastednotions i cannot believe how late i am to give this to you as your birthday gift but you can roast me for my horrible writing in school another time. just appreciate the fact i did this on impulse because u like badboy!jungkook ;). also i’m so sorry for being inactive but i just have been so burdened by work but all is good now:)) hope you enjoy this series which is inspired by the Disney movie Radio Rebel ;))))

“Hey, hey! Its your Radio Rebel in the house! I’m back in the studio and I’m feeling the 80s vibes today, don’t you think so?” Your voice crackles into a light laughter that rips through the still air of the mini studio of the radio station. “Well, lets break down today’s lazy evening with some Bon Jovi kiddos!”

A summery smile graced your lips as you took off your headset, the intense tune of Livin’ on a Prayer playing with passionately throughout the studio, a heavenly wild and energetic atmosphere enlivening the small room. You leaned back against your chair, taking a sip from your mug and you could feel the scalding of bittersweet Americano running down your throat but you down it anyway. Anything to get yourself through this graveyard shift at the radio station.

It was like any other shift that you managed, fulfilling your hours at the local radio station to whip up some cash for college. It was a completely different aura here as compared to the outside. A place where you could be you, where you could talk to people without surrounding yourself to humiliation. There was nothing more than enjoying the enigma of being behind the microphone, walls holding your up and concealing your identity form all the curious minds of who the voice of who this Radio Rebel is. And you would gladly keep it that way.

God forbid your identity as a radio host for the Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday evening is discerned to the entire public.

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My bags are packed, always ready to go
And have been for years now.
Even as a little girl I instinctively held on
Comforted by the weight each memory hides.

Sometimes I open them to air out what’s neatly pressed within
But it’s always harder to put them back to the way they were when you started
So I tend not to open them often.

Then comes the day when something new
Needs to be added to my baggage
And I must judge what is old enough
Or worn enough to finally be left behind
As I jam one more thing in amongst a lifetime’s worth of moments I can’t let go of.

No one taught me the tools I would need
To check this baggage rather than take it everywhere I go.
No one taught me that some things are not worth holding on to
And how to let go of the things that don’t want to leave.

Here I am living day to day out of a suitcase
So old nothing fits who I am anymore
Let alone should be allowed to define the life I lead.
But it silently lingers by my side
Waiting for just the right moment
In which to remind me why
I’m never quite able to master the art of living and letting go.

© Courtney Turley 2017

A tribute for my all time favorite webcomic @rockandriotcomic, which just reached its end! I’ve been keeping up with it since day one and i will always treasure it! All my kudos to Chelsey ( @cheriiart)