sleep dust

cancers are watery silk, touching on every sensitivity and human feeling, the esoteric duty of cancer being to master the realm of emotion. they dissolve like mist over dawn when the sun rises, sleep dust never escaping their eyes. and cancer is not a sign of mere tears and hysteria, rather the experience can be quite volatile and unpredictable. they have their demons, and they can secretly overcome tremendous adversity in life. it may not be until many years after the event do they ever share their pain and accomplishment 

Pisces wanders through the day with the dust of sleep dancing in her eyes. And her home is a cradle held up by strings and stars. She is shattered, but she soars. Neptune can make the Pisces life seem like the silver screen. It can seem unreal, a hologram, something to be acknowledged but not absorbed in. Pisces is a bracelet made of shells. The expression is an obscure spiritual experience. We are all merely followers

I remember when I used to languish,
weigh the nomadic imbalance,
live the moments that felt most fleeting.
The mind was never so unburdened
as it was then,
shining and forming forgiveness
in the womb of fates soft departure.

You’d be surprised
how many hours I can fill
with thinking of you.
Thinking of inundating us both
again and again.
Deep thoughts
for minding the tragedy of my dossier.

Oh sleep,
where is thine dust of twilight hiding?
The meta-gods,
the hybrids,
we keep resolving ourselves
to dreamscapes and ghosts
easily overlooking the intrinsic simplicity.

A scraped knee,
beige sands,
emotive weeping,
heavy ambrosia.
The most seemingly ordinary of things
sentiments indeed
have flattering engagements,
catalysts that satisfy one another
at vague turns.

And I,
A polarising insect
Unbeknownst of harmonics realised,
delicate detachment from sound,
suspended in amber fiction,
secrets of an understanding now mocked,
cooed in my campiest pirated cadence.

You wouldn’t find it unusual at all,
early morning banal thoughts,
clairaudient sighs through the stale walls,
lacking tawdry manifesto,
a sliver of windowless pink light blooming,
a wordless melody gone markedly cold.

Not quite sleep walking

Could you write a fic about being a student at the same time as Newt and sneaking him out into the Forbidden Forest at night to meet the centaurs and see some of the magical creatures that live there? Your writing is so awesome. :D

 I’ve been super excited to write this. Thank you so much for the great request.

Master list

Originally posted by trippy-culture

“Newt’ you whispered as you prodded his cheek, he mumbled something about going away before he cracked one eye open. “happy birthday, Newt’ keeping your voice low so as not to wake any of the other boys in the fifth year hufflepuff dormitory, you produced a stream of  multi coloured confetti from your wand, sprinkling it over your dearest friend.

He gave you a sleepy smile ‘what’s all this in aid of?’ he asked voice still gravelly from sleep, as he dusted the confetti from his mess of auburn curls. “it’s a surprise, come on, get dressed.’ You chided  him as you tossed some clothes his way, before making your way back to the peaceful common room.

Newt didn’t keep you waiting long, he was much to curious, even if he was yawning as he shuffled to you.  You pushed the circular door to the common room open, and gestured for newt to go through, he gave you a lopsided smile before stepping out into the corridor.

It wasn’t rare for you and newt to wander about the castle at night, but it was usually just across the hall to the kitchens for a study break snack, or to the library for a book that you had forgotten that you needed. You had never actually made it out of the castle before, but you were determined to make this the best start to newts birthday that you possibly could, so you had spent weeks planning everything, your rout, finding the secret passage way, behind a grumpy looking wizard with a bushy beard holding a rake. What would be the best time to go, taking into consideration which creatures were likely to be active throughout the night, how dangerous it could possibly become. You had prepared for every possible outcome, good or bad.

You stealthily made your way down several corridors before reaching a secret passage way that lead to the greenhouses. Newt grabbed your hand as you edged your way around the greenhouses before scurrying to the edge of the forbidden Forrest, your heart was thumping in your chest, from running and newt still hadn’t let your hand go.

“come on, are you ready?’ newt nodded eagerly, taking a deep breath, you stepped into the vast expanse of trees. Stepping carefully so you wouldn’t disturb any of the creatures, you came to a clearing and pulled newt to the leaf littered forest floor, you shuffled forwards on your fronts to get a better view, daring to peek through the thicket.

In the clearing, basking in the moonlight stood a group of proud centaurs. newt had his hand over his mouth, eyes sparkling. They were breath taking, as they looked to the stars, searching for answers or possibly even questions, more came and went, Centaurs of every colour and an impossible range of patterns and markings lined their amazing forms. as you and newt observed. staying impossibly silent.

Newt grasped your hand, nearly making you jump out of your skin. The centaurs had obviously sensed what newt had seen, they made their leave with a respectful nod. From the shadow of the trees on near silent hooves trotted an ethereal unicorn, it was like nothing you had ever seen, pure white, it almost glowed in the light of the crescent moon, it’s eyes doe like but full of wisdom. you squeezed newts hand, to make sure that you were actually awake.

Newt looked to you, his eyes were brighter than you had ever seen them, a face splitting grin on his handsome face. You turned back to the graceful creature, hands still clasped together, you had planned for every scenario, but you never in your wildest dreams expected this.

Have a great day and be safe

My father died when I was so young. And I hated him for it. Of all things, a lumber accident. It seemed like such a foolish end. I could never forgive him. I hated him for leaving me without a father. As if it was the worst thing in the world.

Now I know better. It’s taken all this time to understand. It’s so much worse to lose a child. Emily, I am coming for you. No matter what, I will come for you.

“Can’t Sleep” Corvo Attano, Dust District (DH2)

Nice Body//Scott McCall

(A/N): Stiles’ little sister, Reader, has an interesting encounter with Scott in the bathroom…


Flashing lights and the familiar sound of morning cartoons blasted from the TV. This was unlike your usual wake up calls, but you didn’t think much of it. Even your bed felt a little stiffer than usual. Your neck ached as you stretched out on the foreign furniture, hitting a strange object.

“Ow,” your favourite brother, Stiles, put so eloquently, shoving your legs off his chest. The unusual encounter made you jump in surprise.

“Stiles, what are you doing in my room?” you groaned, rubbing your eyes with closed fists. Remnants of sleep dusted your face as you tried to lift your neck up, but the pillow was too comforting to leave just yet.

“Open your eyes, princess,” Stiles deadpanned. You squinted your eyes as they adjusted to the bright light, alerting you that you weren’t in your bedroom, but rather your front room. Your limbs sprawled out across the couch with Stiles at your feet, munching on a large bowl of cereal.

“What happened last night?” you question, sitting up on your elbows. A sharp pain attacked your temples, causing you to fall back on the large cushion. It creaked as you replace your weight back on the rickety structure.

“You fell asleep on the couch,” Stiles answered, his words mumbled by the chunks of peanut butter bits flying out of his mouth. His unattractive display made you cringe.

“I can see that, but I meant before that,” you grumble, scratching your brain for any clues. You wave off the thought, figuring you probably didn’t want to know anyway. “Actually, never mind. I’m gonna go take a shower.”

“That’s a first,” Stiles sighs, his attention still trained on the television. You roll your eyes, rising from your temporary bed. After grabbing a change of clothes from your closet, you rush to your shared bathroom.

The room was for once clean, however you knew that it would not stay that way for long. You turn the shining faucet on, letting the water flow until it reached your desired temperature. After quickly undressing, you step into the steaming shower. All of your thoughts seem to rush down the drain as the water hit your back. Once you felt completely refreshed, you flip the faucet off. Unfortunately, as you slid the shower curtain across the rail the door also opened, revealing your brother’s best friend.

“Scott!” you screeched, snatching the from the rack and securely holding it around your nude figure. The room felt quite hot, and it wasn’t just from the shower.

“(Y/N)!” Scott echoes, slapping a hand over his eyes. Your face flushes as you stand frozen in shock. Droplets of water run down your face while you securely wrap the small towel around your body.

“Scott!” you repeat, suddenly wanting to flee the scene. A cool gust of air caressed your exposed skin, further adding to your discomfort. Of course, the loud commotion draws Stiles in closer.

“Stiles!” your idiotic brother yells, bursting into the already crowded space. His eyes widen when the situation fully clicks in his head. “Wait, Scott?! What the hell?!”

The two of you stare down Scott, who still has his hands over his eyes. Your head feels alarmingly weightless, while Scott struggles to make a coherent sentence.

“I-I didn’t think anyone was in there a-and–”

“Get out,” you growl, shoving them out of the room. You slam the door shut behind them, leaning on it for support as you try to calm your rapid breathing. Looking into the foggy mirror, you wish for the awful feeling in your gut to go away, but nothing works. You quickly slip on your clothes before shyly stepping back into the hallway, where an angry Stiles and flustered Scott sat.

“Now, let’s handle this like adults,” you say, hugging your stomach uncomfortably.

“How much of it did you see?” Stiles asks, tapping his foot impatiently as Scott stares at the floor. Stiles slaps the back of Scott’s head, urging his answer.

“Uh… All of it,” Scott gulps, gazing up at the ceiling. Your stomach drops as you shuffle awkwardly between your feet. Stiles holds two fingers to his temple, pretending to shoot it. “I-It wasn’t that bad of a thing to see.”

“Scott, stop now,” Stiles mumbles, slapping a hand to his face and pulling it down dramatically. His face wrinkles together while Scott continues to make things even more awkward.

“No, I mean there are worse things to see,” Scott defends, making eye contact with you for the first time. You bit your lip, attempting not to make any unnecessary outbursts.

“Scott!” Stiles cries, proceeding to bang his head against the wall repeatedly. He descends down the wall with an exaggerated squeak as you run a hand through your damp hair. You restrain yourself from letting out your internal screams, although it was no easy chore.

“I just don’t want this to be awkward between us later on,” Scott reassures, ignoring your sibling’s clear distaste.  “(Y/N), you have a very nice body.”

“You’re making this a hundred times worse, Scott. How about we just forget any of this ever happened, okay?” you say, playing with your fingertips. Before they could say anything else, you walk into your room, locking the door behind you. You sigh walking over to a pile of dirty clothes in the center of your room. A few loud shouts came from the direction of Stiles room, but you couldn’t be bothered with that. Even as you continued your chores, your heart flutters as you fully comprehend Scott’s words.

“(Y/N), you have a very nice body,” you smile to yourself.


based on this headcanon which was too cute to pass up on

also as a bonus, sleeping Craig:

Ah, this day.
Open I am
too where
the gloom
falls down.
Do you see
the mirror,
the reflection,
coming to
the floor:
Dust. Perfect
for us, those
we should
learn to sleep
with the dust
first and
above heaven


Pitiful and pitied by no one, why have I come to the ignominy of this detestable old age, who was ruler of two kingdoms, mother of two kings? My guts are torn from me, my family is carried off and removed from me. The young king (Henry the Young King, 1155-83) and the count of Britanny (Geoffrey, 1158-86) sleep in dust, and their most unhappy mother is compelled to be irremediably tormented by the memory of the dead. Two sons remain to my solace, who today survive to punish me, miserable and condemned. King Richard is held in chains. His brother, John, depletes his kingdom with iron [sword] and lays it waste with fire. In all things the Lord has turned cruel to me and attacked me with the harshness of his hand. Truly his wrath battles against me: my sons fight amongst themselves, if it is a fight where where one is restrained in chains, the other, adding sorrow to sorrow, undertakes to usurp the kingdom of the exile by cruel tyranny.

– Letter from Eleanor of Aquitaine to Pope Celestine III, sent in 1193

“waking up from one of the greatest nights of my life, 2 hours of shivering in my sleep, and blonde dust coating my eyelashes as the morning sun rises a ripe red. What becomes of the people who lay warm in their beds and die cold in their graves? To hell with them. It’s warm there too.” Kota Eberhardt

Burning man final journal entry kotahitpause (do not remove tag)