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You are a spy and are assigned to a mission that involves you getting married to the person that you are investigating. Unbeknownst to you however the person you are investigating is also investigating you. After a while you begin to fall in love. Write what happens when you find out your partner of many years is also a spy.
I think all my problems would be solved with hot chocolate croissants and sleeping on someone's lap while they read to me.
you get used to it, but it's tiring, because they need you to understand your own life as a series of goalposts. what college are you going to, what's your major going to be, whatcha gonna do with that, oh where will you settle down, when can i expect grandkids.
for the longest time my goals have been so blurry that they track into each other, their undefined edges slipping quietly back into the soft night. today i want to be a writer; tomorrow i will want to be a doctor, later i will wish i took that law school free ride. how the fuck do people just know what they want to do with their life?
where do you want to be in five years? i want to be alive; which is a huge step for me. ten years ago i would have said i want to be asleep and meant i hope that i'm dead by then.
but i want a yellow kitchen and a stand mixer. i want a garden and a fruit tree (cherry, if i can make that happen) and a big yard for my dogs to play in. i want to come home and read poetry out loud to someone and have them close their eyes to listen. i want a summer watergun fight. i want to make snowmen. i want to be the house to go to for halloween. i want my life to settle around me in a softness, for it to lay down gently. if i am very, very, very lucky, i want to travel; finally go someplace overseas.
of course i don't know what i want to be doing professionally. what i actually want to be doing is curling up beside my dog, settling in to read. i want to be making myself a cup of good coffee.
i can't answer the other questions. whenever people asked me what do you want to be when you grow up, i used to say i hope i'm happy.
i hope i'm still kind, five years from now. i hope i never get jaded and mean. i hope i have stayed in therapy. what do you picture yourself doing? when will you actually be an adult about this? why are you so afraid of being ambitious?
am i not ambitious? the other day i rearranged my furniture which doesn't quite fit into my apartment. i watered my plants. i'm going to try to propagate a cherry seed. my five year goal is to spend more time laughing. to lie down in a patch of sunwarm moss. to relax for a minute. to close my eyes and think oh thank god. this is why i stayed. this is finally it.
milo the goat is the best character in shadow and bone send tweet
stargazing, the smell of earth after it rains, misty mornings by the sea, earl grey tea, lavender, the smell of old books, charcoal drawings, braids, long conversations late at night, quiet afternoons spent listening to music, baking, owls, winter, open windows, getting so absorbed in a book you forget the world exists, snow globes, watching milk swirl into coffee, getting up early to watch the sunrise, the sound of rain on a rooftop as you try to fall asleep, keeping a journal
At the top of the hill where nothing ever grows, stands a stone statue of a warrior frozen mid-battle. Most of the people have already forgotten its story, but the elders still whisper sometimes, in the darkest nights of the coldest winters, about the Silent Guardian, cursed by the gods to forever stand watch, neither dead nor alive. Tell the story of the Silent Guardian.
hey, don’t cry. one half flour one half yogurt knead into dough and fry for easy flatbread and dip in balsamic vinegar, okay?
Love how tumblr has its own folk stories. Yeah the God of Arepo we’ve all heard the story and we all still cry about it. Yeah that one about the woman locked up for centuries finally getting free. That one about the witch who would marry anyone who could get her house key from her cat and it’s revealed she IS the cat after the narrator befriends the cat.
- (@thenextromana)
words with 2 cups of glitter, a dash of existencial angst and 3 tablespoons of romantization. hopeless romantic, art hoe, pretentious ice cream addict and swiftie.
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