uncertain 17; aspiring artist & writer daydream dreaming; location: 134340 ��

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  • unworldstories_ 50w

    shine dream smile ��������

    #sowoozoo #btsday #borahae
    #lighthousec @writersbay

    happy 8 years to the greatest treasure this world could ever have!! you've come so long through so many obstacles and you're now at the biggest stage of your lives :') even though I didn't start with you guys from the very beginning, I'll make sure to sit through until the very end.

    let's be forever bulletproof ����

    on a small side note, thank you to 100+ followers!! this is a very late prompt haha a prose for these seven treasures, I guess this is a win-win XD


    If you look pass the darkness of the starless night and sail through the abysmal ocean, you would find a little island, with a lighthouse. the lighthouse was in ruins, beaten down by the merciless wind and eroded by the treacherous waves. it was on the verge of collapse, the light in it dim and faint. the lighthouse keeper needed to find someone else to replace him and restore this lighthouse, and after months of searching, he had gathered seven young boys, different in many ways, yet all fresh and inexperienced and eager, to save this lighthouse.


    When the originally faint white light of the lighthouse turned into a burning fiery red light, there were nearly tears in the old lighthouse keeper's eyes. the lack of life in the previous glow was suddenly fuelled by passion and a collective dream. "one day this lighthouse shall be the star of the sea so bright even vessels will stop to admire it". it dawned on the old lighthouse keeper: this lighthouse would mean more than just a bearing for ships, it would be the guidance for every soul lost and wandering in the dark, and these seven boys would be their compass, like a constellation in the night. however, who was their compass when their light dimmed?


    The toils of being a lighthouse keeper soon came raining down on the seven of them. there was skepticism—many believed that the seven would not be able to hold the lighthouse for long. there was ignorance—many ships took a different route purposefully. there was shame—many claimed that the seven weren't doing a very good job anyway. but most of all what scarred the seven of them the most was hate. it hurt them when ships intentionally sailed in front of the lighthouse to call them names and look down on them. sometimes it even felt like nature was against them; the tides as high as mountains and storms that were a sailor's nightmare battered on the walls of the lighthouse, hoping to strike fear in the boys. on top of that their families were never very supportive of their jobs, and some of them mentally suffered from the lack of support.


    But still they held on. their sliver of hope and their trust in each other were as strong as the fire that burned in their light. there were days where they would fight amongst each other, and they worked hard together to reduce them. there were days where clouds were above their heads, and they worked together to clear the skies. there was even a time when the old lighthouse keeper asked one of them if he would rather go to work at another lighthouse that was in better shape than this one, but the boy rejected the idea as soon as it came up, insisting to stay with the other six. their fight was not in vain as you see, because not long afterwards the sea that was always black started being speckled with purple lights, bobbing along the waves like jellyfish. this started when they heard that there were people who believed that they would succeed, and supported them on their journey. this continued on, and seeing those purple lights were comforting and encouraging. the night mirrored the sea often, and the boys enjoyed stargazing at the view. those nights made the work more tolerable and it was the best feeling all of them could have. so they treasured the feeling, treasured those purple lights, treasured the people who had hope in them and worked even harder. they worked especially harder to give love back to the people who believed in them.


    But good things don't last long. there was a moment in time that came like an absolute hurricane at the boys. it was a time where people made nasty rumours of them and this threatened their roles as a lighthouse keeper. and at this moment, a terrible thought surfaced in the minds of all seven of them, should they... leave? should they abandon this role afterall? the whole world seemed to be against them and it was exhausting to gain the efforts to prove them wrong. it was like swimming against the tide afterall. this thought hung on their minds for a long time, like an elderly pondering their time of death. even the purple lights didn't seem as comforting. the boys loathed the thought of it, but it felt like the thing to do. except that they weren't ready to give up just yet and they clutched on to hope. and hope pushed away the rumours and gave way to more people who supported them.


    The boys grew to become men. and suddenly their ocean is also glowing brighter than ever. the purple lights suddenly became uncountable, and covered the entire surface of the sea. the sky they saw was almost a painting made from space. those purple lights became the constellations in the sky for them, they were their pathways, their hope, their love. and by following those lights the seven of them truly became the star of the sea. the amethyst glow of their lighthouse was unmistakable and ships could never ignore that light. the sea became a galaxy, and they became the stars. and even if the feeling will pass one day they live in the moment. for now it's just them and their constellations, and to them no matter what they get, whether it's recognition or fame, those lights come first, as they were the light they needed when the night was dark.


    you got me, I got you
    we got to heaven with you
    we were only seven
    we are not seven with you
    and we will be young forever
    and we will walk together
    we started with a dream
    and you took it to reality
    and the tides don't scare us now
    and the storms don't scare us now
    for we are bulletproof
    we are bulletproof with you

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    dedicated to the loves of my life
    the seven souls who live in
    the lighthouse in the midst of
    the sea of alluring amethyst asters

    borahae bts


  • unworldstories_ 55w

    be my rainbow
    and I'll be the colours that fill you in
    and even if my paint runs out
    I'll pick up some string and my poetry

    I'll string bonfires, valentine roses and passion
    I'll string sunsets, marigolds and enthusiasm
    I'll string candlelight, daffodils and optimism
    I'll string grasslands, gardens and harmony
    I'll string heavens, delphiniums and loyalty
    I'll string twilights, wild indigos and integrity
    I'll string galaxies, hydrangeas and royalty

    and weave a heptad-coloured tapestry
    carved like the half moon for your shape
    and you won't be chasing rainbows after this
    my colours will guide you to the pot of gold

    and if it were magic, honey
    there's none more fairytale
    than the prism after the storm


    I want to give you a bit of context for this piece:
    first of all, hello :D my artist name is Lillian but my real name is li yen <3 my sister, as I have mentioned a couple times in my older pieces, her name is li hong. now for this context I'm going to have to mention a different language: Chinese :D

    my name in Chinese is 俪言,and it used to be 俪颜. the old version means "beautiful colours" while the new one is "beautiful words". now for my sister her name didn't change and stayed as 俪虹, "beautiful rainbow" :)

    this piece is dedicated to my sister, my twin flame :') I've been thinking of so much personal stuff and recently somehow my sister is keeping a lot of things to herself and I feel a little hurt by it because I used to tell her to not be worried and tell me anything and everything. just earlier today somehow she's not really talking to me and I don't know why :/ last time I used to say that since she doesn't do paintings and only does ink drawings I tell her that me being the one colouring pieces really fit our names. so this metaphor is uncommon between us.

    rainbow also symbolise change and brighter endings. I hope that afterwards we will talk again. I can't bear not to talk to her. my mood is between 4 o'clock and don't (if u know, u know) and I don't like sleeping with a heavy heart because it reminds me of depression days. :/

    #rainbow #chasingrainbows @mirakee @writersnetwork very personal piece, means a lot to me :)

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    and if it were magic, honey
    there's none more fairytale
    than the prism after the storm


  • unworldstories_ 56w

    Word Prompt:

    Write a 6 word one-liner on Vast

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    view there, the vast vernal valley


  • unworldstories_ 56w

    daydream dreaming

    you'll dream in daydreams with me, honey
    worth more than treasure troves of money
    come and dream in daydreams with me, darlin'
    come linger in poppy fields a flowerin'

    let us wander in the land of the sun and the moon
    we'll skip through the corn fields like summer in June
    sunflowers and moonflowers will be in vernal bloom
    and the grass and the wind will whisper a lovely tune
    hear the swallows on the branches come afternoon
    watch the geese spread their wings of golden plume
    feel the grass sweep your feet like a magical broom
    smell the fresh moss by the door of a mushy room

    let us run through the meadows where pixies dwell
    we'll admire the dainty daisies and budding bluebells
    spring captured this land under its flowery spell
    tis a sight you could see wishing on a wishing well
    listen to the townsmen singing folklores and tales
    the gardens of babylon would be here if it fell
    do a merry dance at the square amidst gold knells
    please the deities of flora at their heavenly vales

    let us stroll down the arches of the arching willows
    we'll bid a pleasant hello to the gardening fellows
    the lush soil below us are as soft as cloud pillows
    a moist haven for seedlings to sprout tall and grow
    lend your curiosity to the professor's book trove
    for in his journal penned plants of places high & low
    and lend your awe towards the carvings in a row
    for a wooden sculpt of a rooster at dawn could crow

    let us imprint our feet on the soft sandy seashores
    we'll glide through the water like flying fish shoals
    the glistening turquoise ocean is worth your adores
    and the sea's conch shells are like a mine's gold ores
    praise the beauty of the coral flowers on the floor
    while singing along to the ocean's hymns and lores
    the crystalline waters welcome your heart to pour
    the calm the salty sea breeze brings is hard to ignore

    let us laugh in the cotton candy rose of dawn's light
    we'll stay up watching the never-setting skyline
    the aquamarine blue that fades into citrine bright
    is most gorgeous of any sky-circus showtime
    make yourself comfortable with a glass of wine
    on the velvet seats as the theater glows alight
    as for the comedy shows, we'd be given hindsight
    that the jester would make us clap with delight

    let us weep with the timid-hearted stars of twilight
    we'll never tire counting the plethora of starlights
    constellations accompany through solemn midnight
    & the frequent flying firesparks made the mood right
    hazy dusk of mauve and gold is never out of sight
    it feels as if you're living on the clouds at this height
    the orange sun shall never come, if it wants, it might
    your daydream is up to you, even trees can take flight

    you'll dream in daydreams with me, honey
    worth more than treasure troves of money
    continue to dream in daydreams with me, darlin'
    you'd linger, still here, in poppy fields a flowerin'

    #daydreamc #writersbay @writersbay @writersnetwork

    this took longer than expected–

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    daydream dreaming

    you'll dream in daydreams with me, honey
    worth more than treasure troves of money
    come and dream in daydreams with me, darlin'
    come linger in poppy fields a flowerin'


  • unworldstories_ 56w

    The night fell as swift as the day rose and we sought refuge from the chilly, gun-powder filled air amongst the ruins of our fragmented home, inhaling clouds of dust and soot from the wreckage and rubble and curling up like a ball atop smooth hard rock and stone debris in an attempt to sleep comfortably as if we were drifting to sleep between soft mattresses and velvety pillows. My exhausted mother, who’s back is slouched and her eyes puffy from crying, lit up a little candle and placed the flickering flare not far away from us before she joined us to sleep, huddling close and falling asleep amidst quiet sobbings. In the midst of the eerily silent night, I abruptly awoke to a faraway sound of a bombshell cracking the dry earth like a whip and my body shivered in fright, dread and fear taking over it. I shuffled slowly towards the little fire dancing in the cold night, my bare, soot-covered feet in contact with the icy rock slabs below me. Allowing the embers to embrace my shivering frame in warmth, my eyes did not leave the burning light until beads of tears cascaded from the corners of it as I started to sob in silence. Unlike the flames of explosions raining down above and the deadly and savage infernos that run amok across neighbourhoods and ravage the homes of many, this little candlelight was comforting and calming, like a lone star scintillating in an ebony night sky. In each passing day, the sliver of hope we hold would dimmer and weaken as tomorrow did not mean a day where puffy white clouds would adorn sky blue horizons, rather, tomorrow meant that we would still be glimpsing fiery scarlet sunsets at the peak of dawn accompanied by streaks of ash and deafening claps like thunder. We were told to build an armour from our fears to shield ourselves from these threatening dangers and this tiny flame crumbled it all, letting my scarred heart cut through the dead of night with endless bitter tears after months of acting strong.


    #silence @mirakee @writersnetwork somehow managed to fit the prompt? I remember when I wrote this I tried to imagine myself in that situation. if my life was being torn apart right before my eyes would I be able to keep up a strong front when no one's watching? this was one of my favourite descriptive writings I did when I was still in school, and it still is :)

    love you @writersnetwork ��

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    descript. 1

    the red glow as I approached


  • unworldstories_ 56w

    Word Prompt:

    Write a 10 word one-liner on Fury


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    flames flickering flowing
    fuelling frenzied fury
    fanning fiery forest fires


  • unworldstories_ 56w

    oh darling,
    hear me like you always do,
    but who are you?

    while I stroll dust-ridden pavements
    you tread on star-studded universes–
    while I breathe in the hopes of dawn
    and exhale the anxieties of dusk
    you seemed to share a bloodline
    with the dainty stars and the gibbous moon–
    not a need to let yourself be known
    not a want to make everyone listen

    quietly you watch
    I do not know where you are, however
    you hide amongst the curtains of the black sky
    you camouflage within the constellations
    you disappear into the dark canvas cautiously

    like alchemy

    oh darling,
    hear me like you always do,
    but who are you?

    while I'm lost in my blindness in my dreams
    working your serene magic, you
    silently slip your quiet advice
    amidst my solemn slumber
    while I'm falling deeper into my deepest abyss
    with the utmost transparent touch, you
    almost embrace me, in a cold comforting way
    allowed me to pen diaries on your moons
    so that it's light would prevent me from sinking
    any further into the dark
    gave me a glassy shoulder
    disguised with raven ink
    to run my crystal tears on
    a cold comfort

    like alchemy

    and when the sunrise awakes
    peeking through the gradient pink clouds
    you depart like one waiting for the midnight train
    with your plethora of stars and placid moon

    like alchemy—

    oh darling
    who are you?

    it's a bit late, I'm aware
    I said I was gonna work on the old guys

    #alchemy #stars

    @writersnetwork thank you for the love ��

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    alchemist of the night

    oh darling,
    hear me like you always do,
    but who are you?


  • unworldstories_ 57w

    His eyes forced itself to open.

    He envelopes the atmosphere around him, the reddish tinted skies with dark blue hues seemed surreal and out of a painting. A lightning bolt flashed through the sky like a shooting star. Barefooted, he shudders every time his feet scrunch the dead blackened leaves laid on the ground. There was no one in sight, the air was held tensely, there was pressure on his throat.

    He feels suffocated.

    Across the leaf-covered ground, stands a very tall and run-down building. It towered over him, making him feel small, tiny. As if he was a speck of dust in a sandstorm. Up close, the building resembled a hospital, just that it didn’t seem too welcoming with high dark gates that seemed to slowly corner his existence. He shuts his eyes, and he feels a hot burning sensation on his cheek, his eyes seemed to well up tears. As his eyes reopened to a blurry vision, he could barely make out a figure of a woman coming towards him.

    He hears the slamming of a door ring through his eyes.

    And he awakes again.

    He wasn’t even sure if he was awake - everything around him was just darkness and pitch-black. All except his body which was weirdly glowing in a sort of way, couldn’t be made out as if it was covered by a thick blanket of a starless night. Suddenly, he felt a rush of pain that stretched across his limbs to his head. He yelped in agony, the ill feeling felt as if someone had grasped his body a little too tightly, yet when he looked down to check his arms, there were no signs of bruises or cuts or wounds.

    Unlike the ordinary.

    He is getting tossed around by invisible punches and kicks and unrecognizable objects break his landing. What felt like a door or a wooden board or a piece of glass couldn’t be identified as the darkness seemed to only thicken. At what seemed like an endless restrain, the beatings stopped almost abruptly and out of the blue.

    He feels a ‘pang’ behind his head.

    And his eyes flutter open again.

    The light above him was so blinding that he squints and jolts up immediately. Surrounding him was like a void of emptiness. Nothingness. Loneliness. He walks around, water dripping from his dishevelled hair down until his knees, creating a puddle wherever he steps. There were distant sirens wailing into the air, it appeared louder as it was silent.

    Or was it?

    As he walked, his legs could feel the tiredness clambering up on him and his eyes were heavy and drooping. From somewhere, he catches a whiff of sweet-smelling food. Porridge? Beside him, he feels a whisper being breathed out into his ear. He turns to see who it was, and nothing could’ve prepared him for what he saw next. The person inched closer to him as he scurried across the ground in an attempt to run away from that dreaded person who he never wanted to meet.

    A voice echoed through the void.

    His eyes flung open at once.

    Panting, he found himself staring right up towards a late dusk dotted with a million stars. He breathes, the serene atmosphere calming his nerves and relaxing his mind. He pushes his hands on the grass, hoisting himself up to realise he was on a very large field. In a distance, he could see a flickering lamp post and a figure waving and calling out to him. He stood up slowly, and his legs started into a run that he had never expected. He races across the field like a bird in the sky.

    Until he was pulled back, that is.

    He felt the force of a muscular hand snaking its fingers onto the back of his neck. He nearly choked. The pull was so strong, his legs could hardly build enough friction to pull back against the strength. As he gets pulled in and engulfed by darkness, he sees the figure running towards him.

    He picks up a familiar cry of a child.

    His eyes remained closed this time, the irregular breathing and heart rate had decreased from a loud and unsteady beat to chilling silence. He feels a warm and gentle hand stroke the left side of his cheek. A mother’s touch.

    He smiles.

    And he never woke up again.

    HOLD UP THIS IS CRAZY— @writersnetwork WHAAAT thank you for the like spam??? omg I just woke up I can't process this properly my mind is a blur—

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    to bury a secret

    was an exam piece I wrote at school last time based off one of my stories (can you believe how bold I was?) I tweaked it a bit because there were a couple of mistakes (can't write properly in exams right) one more for the night, I swear I'll leave the rest for my writing streaks.


  • unworldstories_ 57w

    in relation to the ticket seller


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    you're always so fast
    even the light slips away
    from your face quickly


  • unworldstories_ 57w

    to the ticket seller for the movie with the glitching screen, dimmed down lights, abandoned cinema with the empty popcorn:

    do you sometimes wish to go back to the sky blue side of the trailer of the movie? where the cherry blossoms would don the side of the road as your car drives both of us down the streets of Kyoto, with laughter mingling in the fresh air of spring just talking about animations and characters;

    do you sometimes wish to go back to the sapphire blue side of the movie? a touch of a hand got you giddy in the palms of eros, and upon an engulf from you I'd turn into a puddle just melting from your warmth. strolling through the stone-grey, windswept, empty roads of the station for yellow vans felt like yesterday, just too far away;

    do you sometimes wish the storm blue side of the movie never happened, never played? the grey blue side that had it's own turmoil, the turmoil that never meant to cause the rain, never meant to cause the pain. the one blue side I wish never came that broke the arrows in our chains,,

    all I wanted to ask was if you ever thought about coming thru this side of paradise, where we'd have conversations in the dark and we'd be fine with it because we would be each other's fireflies for the night.

    they say the second movie is always worst than the first and I'd agree we didn't turn out as we would be than the start. we tried to find solace in each other but all we found was hammers that pounded us back. I said you saved me from drowning but you were going underwater sooner than I thought. I knew how to swim but diving deeper with you made me lose the light a little bit more every night.

    still I told myself I'd give you back everything you missed at the ending of the first movie, starting with the unexpected epilogue dropped last fall. you deserved it because I didn't do what I needed to do.

    so... why?

    I don't know if I can sit myself through the next movie that is already getting bad ratings from critical critics despite having golden carpets and golden curtains. I can't find solace in this other movie and I know I will never despite having almost all of my heart poured out to it. I feel so sorry for myself and ever more sorry for golden because there's still a part of me that yearns for the blue side of the movie that never seemed to end. blue and then black now, I know. you know. everyone knows.

    I don't know why am I still seeking for reassurance from the blue side you once gave me and I don't know why you need to sit through this metaphorical, wanna-stay-hidden piece of crap when the whole truth is I don't know why I'm still writing shit like this about you.

    why is it that everytime the sky gets dark or when the rain starts to pour or when the music dies out, you always become my dark muse? is it now a habit after the 6 months of sitting alone in that empty cinema and rewatching and rewatching and rewatching and rewatching the bitter ending of the first movie and alone and alone and alone in that bitter ending of a feverish love? but I don't want you to be my muse in the night, in the dark. but even the skies and the sapphires come together with the storms.

    I wish you never wore black because you spreaded across my mind like the midnight sky

    golden as you are, my dear sunrise, you fade too quickly

    I wish your light shines on others soon

    because even when dawn comes the orange ray streaked across your eyes are still so vividly coloured in my memory

    and I'm so sorry my dear movie watchers, there's no movie to see here. but if you wish, help yourself to the glitching screen, dimmed down lights, abandoned cinema with the empty popcorn.


    I don't know why I had the mood to write. felt like I needed to get this off my mind. this has somewhat a relation to "rainy days". I really didn't plan on this though. maybe I'll think of writing what I missed soon.

    dedicated to the ticket seller that used to tell me that I was all he could ever ask for. props if you could get a ticket, the movie is of our downfall if you hadn't guessed it yet.

    on a lighter note: I've reached a milestone of 50 followers!! whaat that's crazy! thank you so much y'all for sticking through my half depressive writings <3 I love all of u ♡


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    the ticket seller

    to the ticket seller for the movie with the glitching screen, dimmed down lights, abandoned cinema with the empty popcorn: