New Playlist !!!!!!

To Achilles, the sky would always turn grey

The sky was grey. A vivid dark grey with clouds that resemble smoke. The air smelled like blood and dust. It smelled like flames .. Like agony. It smelled like war.

The white blood trickling flag tied high on the pole was seen far away . Too small to be noticed .

A white flag, splotched with browning red was tied high on a pole, a long way away from her castle. But they were here already. Their metal clicking , clanking swords dripping blood onto the soil that reeked red. The piles of bodies created a pattern nobody would want to trace and yet the queen was calm in her castle.

Her armour was loose and detached as the last left huddled around her. Their heads bent low in shame and fear. This was the end . This is what they feared the most. The ending where they would never return home.

Nobody dared to speak a word. There was nothing else to do. Their queen would have to surrender. She would be beheaded or worse-become a slave. They had heard of the King of the North. The atrocities people suffered in his prison. How women would plead to be killed than be graced with morning’s light. Mercy was something he had long forgotten.

The silver shields crowded in the room reminded her of her coronation. Except the blood sticking to the wounds and the fear that hung low in the air, sticky and suffocating. Her knight speaks up , his voice too bold.

“ I’ve prepared the west wing, my Queen. They are well equipped. The swords , the cannon , we have plenty-” he is interrupted.

“ We will still lose.” her words are sharp and painful ,like the final breath leaving the living.

“ We have the archers given swords too , I think if we try to attack from the south quadrant-”

“Achilles .” The queen gently places her hand on his bruised knuckles . He looks up, too fragile to be viewed at the moment. He had lost hope.

“Why do you lie, Achilles? You hated liars when we were young. Have you changed perhaps?” There is a small smile that grazes the queen's face. Her green eyes searching the golden sea. He blinked before standing straight. “ That’s all we can do .”

“ Is it ?” her smile falters a little. Carefully looking at the torn boy in front. “ My Queen the south quadrant is fully-”

“ Achilles , I’ll come to the foreground.” The golden eyed man looked shocked , betrayed. tell himself this was a nightmare , a terrible terribly cruel nightmare he would wake up from. He would wake up and be 10, a child with loose flowing tangled ebony hair. He would run across the halls of the castle hoping to see his best friend . He would smile at his best friend, grass green eyed girl with juvenile mischief.

“Prepare to clear the entrance, I want no civilians , no soldiers . No one . Bring me the chariot.”

“My Queen-” the murmurs erupt , the walls rumbling .

“ I have sworn to protect my kingdom and that is exactly what I shall do. This is an order. You are my army. You will listen to me and nobody else.” her voice bounces, ricochets off across the crystal sheets of the ceiling , erupts into the ash sky and the sun gleams ,pouring his vessel onto her.

The queen in all her majesty sat on her golden throne , engraved with carvings of silver and ivory. Her sword firm in her hand . the white gown sprawled across the floor. She looked powerful.

She was the ruler and nobody else. The dark blue streaks slightly danced across the tips of her hand. Achilles stood emotionless beside his queen. Witnessing something he never wanted to.

“ Now leave. Do not fear them. Fear can kill you before death. -” There is a loud sigh.

“ I hope I've been a worthy queen.”

There was pain in their eyes. The fear is long gone. There is guilt . There is remorse .They look at their queen one last time before leaving the hall , determined to fight for her. But she was determined to die for them. They chose her and here she was giving away her life for her kingdom, the same that might forget her in years. The men and women adorned with weapons swore to never forget her. They swore to build temples to celebrate her, and promised to chant hymns to praise her. Carve her name over and over again on the walls of the kingdom. The children will sing about her to their children. Their children to theirs.

The wind would cry her story and the trees would listen.

But in the end she is a child. A child forced to wear a crown , forced to rule a kingdom. A child who lost her childhood. They wish to see her smile again. Dance across the halls of the castle, sing during festivals and grant the wishes of the children that cross the doors .

It’s too late now.

Achilles waits for her to explain herself. Tell him to not lose hope. Tell him the fight has just begun. He stares at her. Watching her lips curve into a solemn smile.

“ Some days come sooner than we think they would. There is nothing to mourn here Achilles-”

“ What do you mean ?!” The boy roars. “ You are going to ..die” his sword clatters onto the floor. The tears finally streamed down his tanned face. He sobs. His head safe in his palms, his body trembling.

“ Do not cry , you need to accept reality. This is what I’m born for. This is what the people want. They want to live and I'll let them live.”

“ Do not deny me the right to cry! You are going to die and there is no-thi-ng I can do.” he looks at his empty hands.

“ There is a lot you can do , you can stand with your men and women, with your kingdom. You can be the greatest knight in history.” the queen steps down from the podium.

“Rise dear Achilles, I wouldn't want our farewell to be this way. Lead me to the battle will you?

Stay with me till they come.” It was a silent plea. A small consideration for everything they shared.

“ We could ask for help from the West-”

“Achilles, do not lie to your queen. You know this better than me. We all will die. I cannot sacrifice my people, not anymore. I can't be selfish. A queen can never be selfish.” She walks past her dear companion.

“Do not blame yourself , do not be guilty. This is my choice.” There is an uncomfortable silence that settles. The wind was heard slow and humming beyond the long glass windows.

The queen is afraid to look back, afraid she might break seeing him. If she had to choose, it would be to turn blind. “ Can I hold you, before you….go?” The voice is too faint to be heard. It's not a request , it was a plea.

“I’m afraid not.” The queen's voice is cold and she regrets her words. Like thorns pricking her fingers or nails digging into her flesh. There is pain and remorse but there is duty and responsibilities.

She wasn't afraid to die. She was afraid of what she would leave behind. She was afraid that if she held him, she wouldn't want to let go.

“Achilles,” the queen looks ahead “ They need you right now. The people , the kingdom. Do not waste your tears on me.”

“I love you.” The words are louder and clearer echoing softly. There are no staggering waves of confrontation . She wondered if it killed him to say it out aloud. She remembers repeating the same words to him over and over again. But they were 10 then and he called her a fool. He reminded her who she was and who he was. They both were fools.

“ I know.” The queen leaves him behind.

*************************************************************************************************************

As she walks across the shining marble hallways of a castle she won't ever enter again, she feels empty. The slow blue light draping across her hair, her armour tightened, her sword replaced, there is a power that flows through her. The blue light flickers between her fingers. Slow and light waiting to destroy everything.

And as the tall , heavy ivory doors of the castle push open, she smells the death that approaches. She hears the scream of her name , echoing in the empty hallway a little distance away followed by quick footsteps. It was her brother , the boy with the huge wondrous eyes and cheerful laugh.

“Prepare for coronation Edmund.” She orders the General.

“Your highness-”

“This is an order!” The queen proclaims looking past the crowd of fighters left.

He bows , tears staining his ashen face.

“Two days from today you will have a new King.”

They bow.

“Also do me a favour Edmund, don't let him see this . Lock him up for all I care but don’t let him watch me die.” The older man drenched in war responded with his gleaming eyes. The prince was ordered to be locked up right away.

There are screams and shuffles of resistance heard. Her brother shouts her name over and over again, trying to tackle the soldiers.

“Close the gates as I leave. Everyone stays inside.” The man confirms.

“Thank you. For everything.” She pats his shoulder. The older man watches the tall girl with a pale face. “Your Highness.” They bow down.

If God is who saves you then their queen was their God.

She had twenty full moons to 24.

24 was her favourite number. Sometimes what you need the most are things you could never have.

The blue flames rise slowly , seeping into her skin.

She was alone in the barren land. This isn't a curse for sure. To die for what you love, it never was a curse. As the blue slowly dripped into her blood, she knew she was a grenade. A ticking a bomb that would kill them all.

The castle was so far away. She wondered if Achilles would ever speak of her to his children . tell them about the queen whose hair would sparkle blue fire. About the queen who tried too hard to not love.

She yields her sword like a feather in the wind and the blue bursts into the sky, the land burns in blue fire. There are screams of agony and the land mourns behind.

She saves the day and never herself.

Achilles had lied, his favourite was blue but as the land burned blue and indigo , he hated it so much.

He always loved green.

“Sooner or later you’ll begin to dream of me. I don’t envy you those dreams. I can imagine how my face looks, burning like that, afflicted with desire—lowered face of your invention—how the mouth betrays the isolated greed of the lover as it magnifies and then destroys: I don’t envy you that visitation.”

— Louise Glück, First Goodbye

"a time so warm and pure that i miss painfully. Can you hear me? if you do, answer me, my '88, the days of my youth" —Deok Sun, Reply 1988.

Today I taste wine

It's very repetitive when I say these words in my head. At least in my head nobody turns back and frowns or runs away from my reach.

I don't lose anything in my head .

I could scream these words out to the blankness that rests inside my head and I'll be perfectly fine. Nothing will die or cease to exist. Most things are alive in my head and only in my head. So when I tell my lips to smile as I hear you laugh, the vastness of the universe tries to stop and stare at you.

I smile and the passing clouds are so bashful that they tint red.

Oh and the rivers are chuckling to themselves.

I've told them about you and they think you could be sunshine or probably words in libraries that great people write.

I write about you like an aftertaste of wine and cake that I had that day. I write about you and the papers try to tell me to be sad because when people leave that's what you are supposed to be. Sad .

@ineluctablehere

when hands touch

We might be runners,

Or Chasers or Dreamers,

But we breathe the silent sea like she knows us too well.

Here lies a grave of all my silent pleas.

-@ineluctablehere

Identifying INFPs

- huge cryptid vibes, probably looks for bigfoot on the weekends or has asked baba yaga on a date

- wakes up as late as possible and often has insomnia for one reason or another 

- the friend with the WEIRDEST dreams, not daydreams, just normal dreams, probably very similar in style to Scott Pilgrim vs. The World

- if you insult their fandoms (even by critiquing them constructively), you insult their honor and they will break down

- cries a LOT but only a few people know exactly how much, usually just their s/o, one friend, and the people they live with

- they have friends but for some reason they forget that they have them pretty often

- realllllllly bad at making the first move, probably needs BARE MINIMUM 4 months to make any kind of interpersonal decision

- also generally indecisive, always the friend who takes a while to order their food

- usually a bad driver and kind of proud of it, I have known some who flaunt that they watch anime while driving (conversely, doesn’t know they’re a bad driver and insists that they’re fine even though they’re 15 miles above the speed limit)

- has the most beautiful poet brain, probably writes you love letters and stories, definitely expects them in return regardless of what kind of relationship you have

- has an emotional style of texting, uses a lot of emojis or emoticons, keysmashes, and the amount they text you per text is super dependent on how much they know you exist and/or like you

- ghosts people without realizing it because they’re deathly afraid of confrontation

- really, their greatest fears are (in no particular order) 1) do other people think I’m not smart? 2) will I hurt someone’s feelings? 3) is someone hurting my feelings? 4) will I be able to live adventurously without money? 

- LOVES LANGUAGES, they want to travel abroad more than anything sometimes, foreign countries are their escapism

- 99% chance that they have tried to learn French at some point in their life, the other 1% is reserved for other romance languages taking priority

- afraid that they may have commitment issues

- can feel really distant sometimes because they’re always internalizing their feelings 

- very prone to being high/drunk, often can easily become addicted if it becomes their chosen emotional escapism  

- caught between living a cottagecore life in the forest and living in a city full of culture

- tries not to lie and wants to be authentic but often does accidentally because they’re insecure about how people see them

- wants to be with someone who takes care of them because they often are not great at it 

- will go with you on any adventure so long as you take care of the planning 

- when you fight with them it will really fuck you up for the rest of your life and they will feel that way for a long time too 

- they are magpies and want little gifts that reminded you of them, often just a little flower will do, maybe a poem, or a painting 

- ART MUSEUM DATES will make them loose their shit they love them so much and want to kiss you in front of all the paintings and make the remark that you two are the best masterpiece there

- gushy soft squishy babies, you will call them many things and all of the things will be something exactly like that (if you can be around an INFP without calling them baby respectfully then I don’t know who you are)

- lovecore. that’s really it. they’re in love with love and love doesn’t always love them back.

my aesthetic is being mundane, call that mediocore

After a thousand afternoons ,when my age didn't tick my bones and his would accumulate with candles -I liked how my name sounded off his lips. There was so much reassurance from how he looked at me, like I’m nothing different than him. And right beside the shores of his hometown he asked me

“What are we ?”

I had left even before we could write down an answer. It must’ve been painful to wake up to any empty bed. He must’ve searched his house. He would have called me over and over again. I wouldn't have liked how it sounded off his lips.

I decided to write a story.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF DEATH,MURDER, AND VIOLENCE

Chapter 1- I’m God.

My brother does not have a grave. He now has nobody no no body. All I have now are notes he left in his books and I wished there were many,many yellow notes so I could keep reading his mind.

My brother does not have a grave and I could give him mine. But would he take it ?

My hands were never stained from blood ,not yet. So I’m not a sinner, yet. But I have a gun in my bag. How far will I go without being a sinner?

Mr. Winston's son had a vase in his room. It was an odd placement , with no match to its environment. The vase , bright yellow and golden stripes blinded me every time. But I always spent too much time looking at it. Maybe because I love yellow. Mr. Winston's son had a smile that I never liked -too fake and yet he wins people over,like the lottery.

“You don’t speak much do you ?” His smile falls casually. I nod.

He continues and this time like every single time ,it’s a proposition that rests on the table between us.

He slid the file to me.

Mr.Winston's son wants to kill his father. He wants me to kill his father. I’ve never killed any father and only watched mine die , but to get to this room , that is enough.

Mr.Winston’s son wants me to kill his father and mostly I would have said no. But my brother is dead and I can only blame two - Mr. Winston and God.

So for just a day, I want to play God.

When I agree to his proposal, I see doubt lingering in his eyes. I’ve only lived as long as him but I read people like I’ve been alive for years.

He gifts me a gun and salvation.

I don’t smile as I leave.