#i have to remind myself my feelings don’t matter and me being lonely is just a monster of a person crying like he even deserves to

[kavehater]

Chappel Roan saying she’s sad she’s demisexual and then there’s me being aroace as a whole like don’t you think I’m even more sad 😭

[stabyou]

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

My beautiful, stupid maid

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Maid! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, slightly dark themes, Donna's POV

Word count: 5,080

Summary: I don't know why I don't want you to leave...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!! Requests are open!! I love you all!!!

I thought I like to be alone.

Everyone told me: you need some company. They don’t know me. My family, as they call themselves, care about me, or so they think they do. I don't need helpless maids running through the halls. I don't need to waste time on people I don't care about. My life doesn’t revolve around achieving power, around needing the feeling of being above others, like my siblings do.

I was always a lonely woman, and Mother Miranda's gift could change many things, but not that. Not that.

Angie was everything I needed.

I know what they think about me, what they talk about: “Poor Donna, she's so lonely…” “She's not mentally developed,” “she only cares about her stupid dolls…” Comments that they think I don't hear.

To be honest, I never cared about that. I know what I’m, what place in the world there was for me. My dolls, my house, my loneliness. Sometimes I lose my mind and cry without wanting to. Sometimes I want to end the meaninglessness that my life has become. Angie takes me away from those thoughts, she calms me down. I didn't need anything but to keep serene and continue existing.

At least I thought I didn't need anything else.

Then you showed up.

“Mother Miranda has granted me the honor of working for you, Lady Beneviento,” you said, appearing in my house, in my territory. In all this time, many villagers had been stupid enough to approach my house.

None of them returned. Thanks to the gift that was given to me, I could enjoy seeing the fear in their eyes, seeing how terrible their thoughts are. At first I had to admit that I was even afraid of myself.

The human mind is so fragile... How much people can suffer just with their own memories is incredible. For some reason, I didn't feel the need to torture you.

You seemed shy, but you didn't stop smiling, even with my fervent refusal. I couldn't disobey Mother Miranda, and I couldn't stop looking into those bright, strange eyes.

Angie was just a lost part of my consciousness, some thoughts that left my mind when I granted her the gift of life. She thought that for you to work for me was a good idea. Not me.

I didn't even know your name, but I opened the doors of my house to you. Who was I to argue with Mother Miranda's demands? Maybe I just got carried away with Angie.

I tried to avoid you. I didn't want to think that you were here, with me, that I was no longer alone. But you... You came to me, like a fly to a light trap, blinded, surely by your innocence, heading towards danger.

“Is everything to your liking, my lady?” “Would you like me to make you some tea, my lady?” Always those stupid questions. Hearing your voice was nothing but torture for me, a reminder that you were still there, that, no matter how much your presence bothered me, I was not capable of throwing you out or of making you hallucinate so you would run away from here, so you would never come back.

Silence was always my response, the affirmation that I didn't want you to be here. I have never had the ability or the need to talk to anyone, not even to my siblings. You were not going to be an exception.

My lady... What stupidity is that? I didn't want to be your lady. I didn't want you to consider yourself my property. I was alone, and I liked it.

Unfortunately, time only revealed your annoying presence. My routine is always the same and to trip with you was inevitable. I curse the Black Gods for turning my gaze towards yours.

What a maid... You were clumsy. You didn't know how to clean properly. You served no purpose other than to disrupt my existence. But I could never hurt you. It didn't matter how many vases you broke, how many times you burned the food. I felt incapable of scolding you, of throwing you out of my house.

Someday I woke up with the decision to put an end to that stuff, to make you suffer and disappear forever. Those thoughts faded the moment my hidden gaze met yours again.

That smile, those eyes... That messy hair and the dress that framed your figure made me back away, give you another chance. Chance? I didn't want you to be here. I never wanted you to come to my house. I didn't want to see your stupid smile. I didn't want to, and yet, I felt the need to see you.

Are you also a creation of Mother Miranda?

I know that she experiments on villagers, that she creates aberrations. Could you be one of them? What exactly has the Cadou done to you? Were you some kind of sorceress?

I've read too many books about witches, about mermaids who trick sailors into taking their souls. I always thought they were stupid stories to scare children. But the more I look at you, the more I think you're like a witch from those stories, or like a mermaid. Do you want to trick me into taking my soul? Too late, girl, it's been a long time since I had a soul.

“Good morning, my lady, did you sleep well?” you asked every morning. My ability to ignore you faltered over time. Anyway, I couldn't lose anything by nodding.

That was my worst mistake, making you believe that I was somehow communicating with you. That small gesture gave you more confidence in yourself. It made you believe that you could annoy me even more.

One night I tried to relax, sit by the fireplace and read another of those mermaid stories. Suddenly, I felt the need to know more about these creatures. Somehow, I was afraid that you were one of them. That the movement my head made, forcing me to follow you with my gaze, was some kind of spell from you.

“Excuse me, my lady,” you said to me, with the nerve to put a hand on my shoulder. I was startled, but I knew how to hide it so you wouldn't notice.

I nodded for you to talk, even though I didn't want you to, what is happening to me?

“I'm a bit bored, I was wondering if you could recommend me a book,” you said with your hands together in front of your body, with that formality that I knew you didn't have.

I was thoughtful for a moment. My hands shook as they held Homer's Odyssey. Your mermaid song was not going to be able to defeat me, you stupid maid.

“A book?” I asked without realizing it, letting out my voice, a voice that I hadn't used for a long time and that I didn't want to use precisely with you. I had to calm down, or you would trick me.

“Yes, well... Books about plants are interesting but...” You said, looking away from my hateful gaze.

Did you mean to joke? What made you think you could joke with me? Moron.

“I've been looking for something a bit more entertaining but I can't find anything. Also, most of them are in Italian and I… Well, I can’t read them.”

I shook my head. Fortunately, you couldn't see my face. A smile involuntarily spread across it.

“My family was Italian,” I said in a hoarse voice, giving her an absurd explanation, which she certainly didn’t deserve.

“Oh, okay,” you whispered nervously.

Why were you nervous? Oh, sure... In these three months and five days you hadn't heard me speak. I have a horrible voice, right? I'm sure you hate me even more now. Everybody hates me.

The light from the fireplace rested on your face, dancing in your eyes, on your skin. Have you hypnotized me? I couldn’t stop looking at you.

I sighed listlessly, looking for an excuse for your eyes to stop enchanting me. I got up from the couch, looking for something that would keep you entertained, quiet. Your voice is beautiful, but I don't want to hear it. Beautiful?

“For whom the bell tolls... Ernest Hemingway,” you said when I finally gave you a book so you would leave me alone. You just had to take the damn book and get out of my sight. It wasn't that difficult, was it? “It’s a good one?”

“Yes, it is,” I responded with a dry throat, nervous about the subtle contact my hand made brushing against yours. When I touched you, the porcelain of my dolls came to my mind. Soft, delicate…

“Thank you, I promise that tomorrow I won't burn the toast,” you said amused, were you trying to make me laugh? Good luck with that.

Something had changed in your attitude. I wondered if hearing me talk had anything to do with it. I didn't want you to be here. I hate you, stupid maid.

Time passed slowly. I found myself counting the days, the hours you spent with me. Your overconfidence was disgusting. Some nights, you sat next to me, reading that book, commenting each of the things that seemed curious to you. I have already read it, you silly maid. I don't need to hear your... Your beautiful voice.

I've never been right in the head, I know that. Since I was little I had problems. Problems with my appearance, with people... I have never gotten over it and I never will. My past is a field of thorns that stick into my skin every night when I try to sleep.

But... My demons were not keeping me awake, your eyes were, those two beautiful pearls that you had on your face, ones that I couldn't stop looking at. What are you doing to me? What is happening to me? I feel weak, tired. I'm not hungry, I'm not sleepy. I don't feel like getting out of my bed, to face your gaze again.

Sitting at my old dressing table, I look at my deformed face in a mirror. I'm a monster. I should have gotten used to seeing myself like that, to having that horrible thing on my face, just as I got used to the changes in my body when I became Mother Miranda's daughter.

I felt my heart sink as I looked at myself in that mirror. A deformed monster, a strange creature, an aberration. Those statements that were going through my head were more present than ever.

“What's wrong, Donna?” Angie asked, climbing onto my lap. My sweet and faithful Angie, I don't know what I would have done without you.

“I'm a monster, Angie,” I murmured, with a tear running down my untouched cheek. I can't tell how many times I have burst into tears because of that. That night was different.

“No, no, that's not true,” the doll said. I wish I could believe her words. Angie was my creation. She was part of my consciousness. She would never hurt me... I don't even know what Angie is exactly anymore. “The maid likes you…”

“What?” I said startled.

I know Angie wanted to make me feel better, but she was never particularly good at it.

She couldn't lie to me. She didn't have the ability to do so.

Do you like me? What nonsense. I know you don’t. I know it's impossible. Anyway…why am I worried? Why I didn’t stop thinking about those words?

Love is a luxury that I could never enjoy. Loving a woman, being loved... Those were just fantasies in my head, a fictitious feeling that, like mermaids, only lived in my books.

Every day I kept seeing your stupid… Beautiful… Smile. You were still here, you hadn't left. I couldn't say when I started to worry about you leaving. I didn’t want you to be here but... I didn't want you to leave. I had never felt so many contradictions at the same time. I had never suffered so many anxiety attacks in the safety of my room.

You never saw me lose my temper. I didn't want you to see me like that. For some reason, I didn't want to.

I tried to push you away, but you were getting closer, touching me with your dress, touching my hand when you handed me a cup of tea. Were you really the one who did it? Was my hand subtly caressing your skin? It didn't seem to bother you either.

You were still here, like every day, torturing me with your eyes, with your smile, with your movements when you walked near me. Your gaze was tender and respectful, but your body wasn’t. Your body caused sensations that I always ignored in me.

“That doll is beautiful, Donna,” you whispered, taking my tea to the workshop. That place was always a refuge, the only place in the house where my thoughts were not focused on you.

“Thank you,” I said. To let my voice speak for me didn’t take long. I had been doing it for so long that I no longer stopped to think why it wasn't difficult for me to do it with you.

“Look, it has my eyes,” you said amused, gently picking up the newly made doll.

A heaviness in my head said there was something wrong. Yes, you were right. That damn doll had your beautiful eyes. Wait, shouldn't I say: That beautiful doll had your damn eyes?

“Yes, well, I...” I stammered, confused. I hadn't even realized it. Even without thinking about you, I was doing it. Even when I made my dolls, I put your same hair to them, your eyes, the marks that I could see on your skin… I was no longer safe even in my own workshop.

“It's very nice,” you whispered, returning the doll to me with a sigh. “Anyway, I think I should start making the soup… You liked it with a bit of dill, right?”

“Yes... I... Yes, yes,” I stammered, nodding, but without looking at your face. I was just looking at the doll, at your vivid portrait made unconsciously. I could no longer deny how obsessed I was with you, that I thought about you even without doing it.

I refused to believe it was love or anything like that. At night I tossed and turned in bed, thinking about what spell you had used on me. Your eyes stopped appearing in my nightmares, and now they were present in my most beautiful dreams. In them I see you, I see us together, close, with our hands intertwined. They were just dreams... Dreams in which I don't have that horrible thing on my face, in which your eyes shine when you look at me, in which your lips... In which your lips are too close to mine.

I felt unable to ignore the sensations that the mere fact of being close to you caused me. Love is something absurd, a waste of time. Everyone wants to hurt you, Donna, don't forget that.

My head fought with my heart, with the trembling of my hands when I was close to yours. You always were here with that smile, with that look, making me unable to think about anything but in your lips on mine, in your body very close to mine.

The nights got worse. Drawing your image in my thoughts usually helped me to stay calm and sleep, dreaming about you. Not anymore. I can no longer let myself be carried away by my feelings. The sensations were different, physical, overwhelming. I no longer imagined your smile, or a simple kiss. No, now your body was naked next to mine, now my caresses no longer wandered over your face, but over your chest, your waist, your legs…

Lust is a sin, or so my parents said. I was never ignorant, or stupid. My body had needs, and even more so after the change that Cadou produced in me. I thought it was routine, something necessary...

One more task to be calm, to relax. My mind traveled to unknown places, imagining faceless women while I soothed myself with my hands. It was pleasant, but empty, lacking in feelings or the desire to do it. I simply wanted to relieve my body so that my mind wouldn't become destabilized.

That night, my body was calling me again. No matter how much I tried to get my excitement to relax, I wasn't able to do so. I wanted something, my body wanted something, and I had to give that to it.

My hands moved down my nightclothes to my trembling erection, stroking it gently. Maybe it was my impression, but I could feel much more than other times... The difference? There were no longer faceless women in my head or erotic stories hidden in one of my books. I was thinking about you.

I felt the need to end that discomfort between my legs as quickly as possible and for some reason, I thought that including you in my lascivious thoughts might help. Quite the opposite. The pleasure of my hand going up and down, the gasps that came out of my mouth involuntarily made me want to go slower. I wanted to keep thinking about what it would be like to be inside of you, to hear you moan with your mermaid voice, to see you closing those bright eyes while I made you mine.

My movements were fast, but intense. My head was imagining how good it would feel to have the images in my head come true. To release myself didn't take long, but I felt I enjoyed doing it too much.

Cleaning myself in the bathroom, I looked the mirror again. My face was red and my breathing was labored. I wiped my hands with a towel and stood there, looking at my reflection, feeling a pang in my heart at the thought that everything I dream of were just fantasies.

I felt guilty for enjoying myself at your expense, for masturbating thinking about you, but... I also felt frustrated by how absurd was to think about how far my feelings had gone. So much so that I lost the little decency I had, the deal I made with myself not to fall in love, not to feel the need to hug a human body instead of a porcelain doll.

In my incipient desperation, I called my sister Alcina, telling her everything that was happening to me. Angie gave me nothing but absurd advices. I needed the opinion of someone more... Experienced.

It was of no use to me. According to her, my need to make that stupid maid mine was absurd. “You are a powerful woman, Donna. If you want something from that girl, just take it. She will never contradict you, for her own sake.”

Everything was so easy for a woman like Alcina...

A dark part of my mind seriously considered following her advice. I never felt remorse for torturing those stupid villagers, why would I feel remorse for taking what I want to make mine?

But no, that part of me that I'm ashamed of had to shut up. I couldn't just… No, I couldn't do it. I didn't want to do it, but I wanted to. I wanted you in an unbearable way.

The nights were torture, the days were even worse. At least at night I just had to imagine you, I didn't have to feel you, I didn't have to touch your hand. Yes, you kept rubbing your hand with mine. Have you ever done that? It was me? I wouldn't know how to answer. I would like to ask you, but I don't dare to do it.

You are killing me, you stupid, beautiful maid. You kill me slowly, you make me fall in love with you without mercy, you look at me, you talk to me... You are here with me. I’m here with you. You don't want to leave. I don't want you to leave.

One afternoon, I tried to escape from my carnal desires, from the feelings that filled my head. I was painting dolls, sewing without rest. I had been doing it for hours, I didn't know how many.

“Sorry for bothering you,” you said politely, entering disrespectfully, interrupting my bitterness.

“What do you want? I'm busy,” my words were cold, lacking that softness with which they always spoke to you.

“I'm sorry, it's just that... It's just that I... I have to clean this up. It's the last room before being able to rest,” you said shyly. Was it me or your cheeks were blushing? What were you thinking about? You were thinking about another way to fool me? Stop it. You've already done it. I feel that if I were a sailor, I would already be drifting, desperately searching to hear your siren song again.

“Okay,” I said briefly, avoiding your tender smile, looking at that doll, looking at your eyes on it again.

As you moved around my workshop, my clumsy and trembling hands made the task of painting correctly impossible. With you here, to concentrate was impossible for me.

My thoughts began to spin out of control as I tilted my head to look at you. There you were, leaning over one of the dusty tables. You looked at me, like you knew I was doing the same thing. I looked away and squeezed my hands tightly.

If you want something from her, just take it.

The phrase my sister said appeared in my head suddenly, treacherously, just at the moment when my crazy gaze was directed at the small spot that you had very close to your neckline. One I couldn't forget.

My actions took control of my body, causing me to get up slowly, like a shadow that stalks you without realizing it.

I wanted to tell you so many things... I wanted to be able to talk to you about my feelings before approaching you from behind, running a hand through your hair, brushing it away from your shoulders.

You stood still, but you didn't complain, you didn't turn around and slap me for my impudence. No, you seemed like butter under my touch, under my hands on your shoulders, on your neck.

An unexpected gasp left your lips as I got closer and closer, feeling your subtle but intoxicating perfume, feeling the heat of your body passing through my dress.

“I can't stop thinking about you...” I whispered without meaning to, confessing an undeniable truth, confessing that you are not the stupid maid that I didn’t want to have. You were the girl I wanted to love.

“Donna...” You sighed, when I removed the veil from my face to place my lips on your pale skin, behind your perfect ear.

When I started to be just Donna to you? What about the my lady thing?

Kissing your skin was like a cold breeze on a hot day, like laughing when you're sad. It was a feeling of relief, of pleasure.

Even being behind you, I could feel your heavy breathing. What did you feel? Were you in hell or in paradise?

I couldn't know and I didn't want to know. My hands worked on their own, covering every inch of your body while my mouth was cruel to your neck.

Having your chest in my hands, passing my fingers through the fabric that covered your breasts... All that things I imagined at night were mine in that moment. A part of my conscience was screaming for me to stop, to be sure that you wanted to do it. No, dear maid, I wasn’t going to ask.

You turned around slowly, letting my hands continue roaming your body. You weren't supposed to do that. You were supposed to run away.

“I think about you too...” You whispered, moving my black veil aside. There was nothing to fear anymore. You would be with me or you would disappear from my life. My face didn't matter. I didn’t care if you thought I was a monster. I was willing to force you.

Your smile remained tender, relaxed at the sight of my exposed face. There was no horror in your eyes, disgust in your gaze. No, there was only… Peace, tranquility, and that smile that kept me awake at nights.

“You are even more beautiful than I imagined,” you said, bringing your hand to my deformed cheek, running your fingers over my scar, as if it were nothing, as if it were of no importance to you.

I grabbed your wrist to stop you before leaning towards you, before placing my lips on yours. I had never kissed anyone and I was thankful I hadn't. Your kiss was my first one.

Little by little I moved closer, making your back collide with the edge of the table. I couldn't stop kissing you. I didn't want to stop kissing you. Your lips were addictive. They were everything I had imagined. Your body against mine, your hands going down my waist, you and me...

I could no longer contain my desire to make you mine, to love you, to make love you. I was willing to force you to do it, to not listen to your screams, to make you run away. I didn't have to. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who rubbed my hands with yours. You did it too.

My need to love you was put before romance, caresses, kisses and affectionate whispers in your ear. I had spent too much time thinking about how I felt about you. I didn't want to tell you, I wanted to show you.

I lifted your body by your legs, sitting you on the table, drowning in your kisses, letting my hands touch whatever they wanted... Just like yours. I felt like such a simple act was more than enough to feel my arousal rubbing against my underwear. You were irresistible, a goddess, a mermaid, a witch... But above all, you were going to be mine.

I looked at you, wishing it wasn't a dream and you were really there. You smiled again. What have you done to me? What did I do to you? Have you fooled me? Have I tricked you? Did you also think of me as if I were a mermaid?

Absurd questions that my body didn't have time for. I needed you, my beautiful maid. With a hasty movement, I put my hands into your dress while you hung around my neck, making to concentrate on loving you harder for me, kissing me eagerly, with a desire that I was unaware of.

Your underwear disappeared around your ankles as your hands left my neck, to play on my chest, to free me from my own clothes. Were you in a hurry as I was?

When I finally had access to you, my body moved on its own, lifting your legs slightly, remaining enthralled by those hidden corners of your body.

 You didn't say anything about what was between my legs. You just looked at it curiously. I don't like being looked at, tesoro, you should know that.

You bit your lip, but you didn't say anything. You just pulled me so that my erection rubbed against your wetness. There was nothing else to say, but there were a lot of things to do.

I entered you hastily, feeling a wave of unimaginable pleasure. I was not delicate, nor kind. I didn't know if someone had ever loved you, I didn't want to know either. Your walls hugged me tightly, keeping me right where you wanted, making you moan in a way that I already knew would drive me crazy.

You had more clothes than in my dreams, but the sensations you sent to my body every time they moved exceeded my expectations. You hugged me so well... You took it so well... You were perfect, as if your body was made just for me.

“Don't stop, Donna...” You begged, writhing on that table. My thrusts had relaxed as I looked at you, as I closely admired your beauty without the veil between us. I just shook my head, kissing you passionately as my hips resumed their movements.

“I think... I think I love you...” I whispered with a voice low enough so you couldn't hear it, camouflaging it between our moans. There came a time when I decided to close my eye and not look at you anymore.

Behind you, the dolls that I made rested, looking at me. They were judging me. I wasn't going to let my problems ruin that moment. My sick mind was not going to stop me from continuing to make love to you.

“My God, Donna... I'm so close...” You murmured, ignoring my declaration of love. Why would I want you to answer me? I said it in a way I which you wouldn't hear me.

My hips went out of control and my arms hugged your body, keeping it close to me, not letting you stop hugging me with your walls, not letting me stop making my way inside of you.

I stopped just when the pleasure became unbearable, letting my heat flood inside you, releasing myself inside you, making you mine forever.

You panted, exhausted. Your nails had scratched my skin as I cum. Did that mean you did it too?

“I think... I think I love you too,” you murmured, responding late to my statement, to my confession, hugging me, kissing me with affection, with that affection that I lacked.

“Don’t dare to leave,” I said with a dark voice, before consuming myself again in your kisses.

“I won't do it,” you answered on my lips, keeping me inside of you, not wanting to separate you from me.

I thought I liked being alone, but now I know I couldn't live without you.

[bluelocksource]

U-20 Japan National Team Match Just Before the Game: A Day in Daily Life at Blue Lock.

Isagi: "I styled my hair. The little sprout on top of my head looks great today! Just then, Bachira came up and said, "Harvest ♪" while grabbing it tightly. No matter how much I tried to escape, he kept holding on. I resigned myself to it and let him grip it for a while until he got bored and went off somewhere. What a free spirit!"

Gagamaru: "There’s no nature inside Blue Lock. I wanted to see trees and flowers. Anything would be fine. Just something green. While I was looking around, I found Otoya. His bangs are green, so when I stared at him, he said, "Not into guys."

Aryū: "Little by little, the Blue Lock folks are starting to get a taste of 'Osha.' But in truly 'Osha' moments, people shine. I swear here that one day I’ll show that!"

Niko: "I was caught washing my forehead by Aryū-kun. It was embarrassing. But he taught me, 'Embarrassment is an important emotion that makes us human.' I became interested in Aryū-kun. I want to know a little more about this 'Osha' thing."

Chigiri: "I fell asleep while drying my hair. There’s no one here to wake me up. My hair is long, so it takes a while. Maybe I'll cut it next summer."

Bachira: "When I was walking around n*k*d, Karasu scolded me! Otoya joined me in being n*k*d ♪ Isagi... treated me the same as always! It seems he’s gotten tired of making remarks at my n*k*dn*ss. What a strange guy."

Karasu: "I found myself in the bath with Hiori. We didn't really have a conversation, but that was perfectly fine. I think we were both comfortable with it. It was great to see him looking well. I'm glad we had the chance to meet again."

Nagi: "I ate alone. I did the laundry by myself. I’ve become able to train on my own. I'm proud of myself. Changing is fun, but it can also be a hassle and a little lonely. Still, I think it's an important thing."

Otoya: "I contacted some girls I know on my smartphone after a long time. Most of them didn’t respond. It turns out that not keeping in touch regularly really does make girls dislike you. On to the next one! Woohoo ♪"

Yukimiya: "I talked about various things with Nagi-kun. Like the things we like, and how we've managed to get this far. It seems that for Nagi-kun, the existence of Isagi is significant. It's a story that doesn't really concern me, but having a rival like that feels nice somehow."

Rin: "When I woke up in the morning, my left lower eyelash was turned inside out and it hurt my eye. It happens sometimes, right? Bedhead with lower eyelashes. Huh? Is it just me? My brother said he has it... Oh, don't remind me of that guy. What a terrible wake-up!"

Hiori: "I trained with Isagi-kun. I sent in crosses, and Isagi-kun delivered a direct shot. With each one, he practices with intention and communicates well. He’s a smart type. He’s a bit like Karasu, too. I don’t dislike Isagi Yoichi."

Reo: "I ate alone and trained alone. It’s been a while since I did anything by myself. I can live on my own, but I dream of things I can’t do alone. I have to change. It’s not over yet. Someday, I’ll do it once more."

Barou: "I touched up the "X" shave on my temple. One line represents my murderous intent towards others, and the other represents my murderous intent towards myself. What’s that? Don’t look at me, you stinky guy (Nagi). It’s not a mark saying to give me a headshot here!"

Igaguri: "My hair had gotten long, so I asked Shidou to cut it with clippers, and he ended up giving me a heart-shaped bald spot on the back of my head. Love Amida Buddha…"

Ishikari: "I suddenly felt like playing basketball, so I asked Anri-chan for a basketball. I gathered some people randomly, and it turned out Kiyora was surprisingly really good. Basketball is so much fun!"

Kurona: "Good morning, good morning. Hello, hello. Good night, good night. Greetings are important, very important. It’s a given, but it’s precious. Everyone’s everyday life, everyday life."

Kiyora: "For dinner today, should I have croquettes or minced cutlets? My heart is 50% 50%. I feel like both choices are correct, but I also think I’d regret whichever one I choose. Alright. I’ll eat both. ………………………… Damn, I ate too much and my stomach hurts. Should I lie down or go to the bathroom? The borderline starts again."

Zantetsu: "It's better to brush your teeth properly every day, I told everyone. They replied, 'You should study more.' Well, if you get a cavity, don't say I didn't warn you!"

Tokimitsu: "I was saying, 'I lack confidence. I want confidence,' when Karasu-kun teased me, saying, 'It was just lying in the bathroom earlier, right?' Ugh… come on, don’t mess with me for real… Well, I went to check the bathroom anyway… but of course, it wasn’t there! Uwaaa!"

Nanase: "I washed my headband. When I put it in the dryer, it shrank a lot... what should I do? For now, I just wore it as it was that day. My head felt 'juri juri' (itchy)... Oh, I mean it felt 'zuki zuki' (throbbing). There goes my dialect again! Hehe, sorry about that!"

Hiiragi: "I used my hobby of tarot cards to predict my future. The 'Devil' card came up… Well, it's just a fortune-telling, right? Nothing to worry about! Right?"

Raichi: "I got really into a sideburns talk with Ishikari! His sideburns are pretty good, but mine are definitely cooler! In the end, we ended up arguing about it!"

Shidou: "I woke up. My mind feels clear. Yeah, it’s a good start today. In the afternoon, my body feels energized. I can sense my cells buzzing with excitement. At night, my heart feels restless. I’m sure something will happen tomorrow. I want to experience this night, knowing I can sleep with that thought, over and over again."

Ego: "Anri-chan was drooling and sleeping at her desk. She should sleep in her own room. Well, I decided to show a little concern for her. With this, she’ll probably listen to me for a while again. Kindness has its intentions. That’s how humans are."

Anri: "I was given an assignment by Ego-san to come up with ideas to make the existence of the Blue Lock better known to the world. Since that day, I've been stressed and having strange nightmares. Damn it… I want to sleep well! I’ll do my best!"

source: Egoist Bible 2

[blommp717]

ever felt like your life is never gonna change no matter how much you learned about LOA and then ND? 😞 trying, not trying, experimenting, being, all for nothing over the past 4 years. i feel so demoralized..

Well I was gonna go to sleep but this really reminded me of myself and I wish I had someone to tell me what I’m going to tell you now.

Yes, multiple times, and that’s actually the reason I kept it going. With what I learned I knew I was incapable of loving a “normal” life. I’m unable to look at my world and see it as how I saw it before and I’m actually glad, even when I was struggling, even when I felt terrible, I would rather know that in the end it’s all me and there’s nothing truly to worry about.

I actually know exactly what you feel. I felt (being fully honest here) complete misery, deep pit in my stomach, it become so overwhelming I actually saw no point in being alive. I had become so deeply engulfed in the stories that only I was confirming, that only I was repeating, that no amount of care or love I was shown or laughter I felt would end up being enough. And all for what? People, I was triggered, I needed validation, I needed reassurance, but most importantly I needed what I wanted. A desire turned into something so serious that any opposition would completely set me off rail and leave me in a drained state for days and weeks.

It all accumulated to one big moment where finally, there was, no contact, and this is what truly helped me. I dropped the affirming nonstop day in day out to see a change, I focused on myself, but more importantly, understanding it all FOR ME, not for a desire or someone else. I made a promise that I would never allow anyone or anything make me feel that way in my life again and I kept that promise.

Now LOAssumption, or in more specifically , the way it was being taught was an enormous reason as to why I felt like I was in a loop, it felt limited, like I couldn’t break the loop of trying. And non-dualism was realizing that this entire “journey” was a big hollow play. Don’t get me wrong, your worries don’t suddenly vanish, you don’t stop feeling “negative” emotions forever and instantly, but now you have the information to truly realize why there is and never was anything to worry about.

If you TRULY take the information on my page and understand it, I promise you, you’d KNOW there was no reason to fear your past, fear failure, or be afraid of “what if it doesn’t happen”. Please my friends I say this with suuuuccchhhh importance, if I could do it, so can you, and it isn’t a long journey, or lonely hard path to push your way through

Because the finish line is right here

I’m not going to go into explaining what NonDualism is from the top all over again because I think I have plenty of posts you can read about it, but don’t just read, understand, and MOST IMPORTANTLY

Do it on your own, stop constantly consuming

[covid-safer-hotties]

We 'Don't Do Sick'... If You Can't Hide Your Disability We Don't Want to See You - Published April 27, 2024

I’ve got a family member who hasn’t seen me in five years because they “don’t do sick”. Suddenly they wanted to visit. I’m housebound - which limits my options. When the topic of masking came up - I was rudely shut down. They demanded a “normal” visit that would be ‘fun.’ The risk to my health did not appear to concern them in the slightest.

I became disabled before the Covid pandemic. I’ve got multiple severe health conditions that leave me stuck in bed (and/or horizontal) the vast majority of the time. As a result I can’t “hide” the fact that I’m sick.

This particular person has been rather rude on a number of occasions about how they don’t want to have to see how sick I am. They’ve told me not to talk to them unless it’s ‘happy thoughts’. I was even excluded from a zoom Christmas because I couldn’t fake well & my sickness would spoil the holiday. After that exclusion I pulled away from them and made my reasons known. I explained how much their behaviour hurt me and that if they couldn’t accept me the way I am I wouldn’t remain in contact. So I was surprised when they reached out and wanted to visit. My initial gut instinct was to say no.

Unfortunately - being disabled is lonely. The pandemic has only made that worse. The isolation wears on you and it’s easy to accidentally get your hopes up when you really should know better. When this person offered to visit … I thought maybe things had changed. I thought about how nice it would be to have some genuine human connection. I let my guard down.

I got my hopes up - only to have them crushed. I mentioned that the visit would have to be relatively short (I have bad crashes if I over exert or talk/socialize too long) and that I would need them to mask.

I’m immune compromised and am barely holding onto my baseline as it is. I recently had a minor skin infection that made me so sick I was fainting and injured my wrist. My body would NOT do well with Covid. And I’m unwilling to risk my baseline. This person takes absolutely zero precautions and regularly engages in high risk activities. I knew they wouldn’t be willing to take a test so masking seemed like a reasonable request.

I said I would happily provide the masks … but it didn’t matter. I was told that my “stringent requirements” were ridiculous and that THEY deserved to have a “normal & happy visit”. That if I wouldn’t accommodate their idea of normal - they wouldn’t come.

First off - I reject the idea that one person can determine another person’s idea of normal. Second - if you can’t be happy just because you have to wear a mask for an hour… you may need to re-examine some things about yourself. Perhaps you have unresolved trauma related to the pandemic. Perhaps deep down you know it’s not over and don’t appreciate the mask reminding you of that fact. Perhaps it makes you examine your own frailty and consider that all health is temporary. I can’t possibly know another person's reasons…. but I do know a mask is a small sacrifice to protect a loved one.

The idea that I should risk what’s left of my health just so someone else can feel like things are “normal” is patently absurd to me. So I held my ground and the visit was cancelled. This person is now angry that I’m unwilling to see them.

This is where boundaries come in. I was completely willing (and actually excited) to see this person after so long. I simply set boundaries to protect myself. They didn’t agree & cancelled the visit… as is their right. They do not have the right to shame me for my boundaries.

This is when I mourn the loss of empathy & compassion that’s been escalating since Covid. I don’t think someone else has the right to decide my “normal”. I find it incredibly insulting that they insinuated they were “deserving” of a happy visit (as though I somehow wasn’t).

This person hasn’t seen me once in five years. Which means they’ve not helped me with my severe illnesses. Multiple hospital trips, serious setbacks, infections, injuries…. They’ve been looking the other way and living their “don’t do sick” normal life.

They’ve shown me that they aren’t capable of accepting my illnesses and they aren’t willing to offer help when needed. So who are they to demand I risk my health for their comfort or joy? If I get sick and end up even worse off than I am now…are they going to help?

Of course not. Yet despite this glaringly obvious fact they still felt entitled to ask me to put my health on the line for them. And they feel comfortable shaming me for not backing down and acquiescing to a visit that aligned to their version of normal.

I’m hurt and disappointed - but I tell this story to encourage everyone to set and stick to boundaries that protect their health. We can’t control what others do but we can refuse to compromise our own safety.

There are many people who refuse to acknowledge the realities of chronic illness and who won’t accept that we are still in a global pandemic. It’s a dangerous combination of denial and willful ignorance - one that results in people like me being pressured into taking risks.

If you’re struggling with people like this in your life - please know you’re allowed to set and stick to personal boundaries. You’re not abnormal, you’re not robbing people of joy and you’re no less deserving of happiness than anyone else. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

It’s getting harder and harder to find people who genuinely support disabled individuals - ableism is rampant and eugenicist attitudes are growing at an alarming pace. But there ARE good people out there. We need to find & cherish them.

Lastly please keep sharing your stories… even the hard ones. It helps people feel they’re less alone and it’s important to bear witness to the suffering and abandonment many are dealing with. Plus you never know when you might change a heart and mind and possibly save a life.

[casanovawrites]

random sentence prompts  ━ from various tv shows, part 9

don’t look back. remember? this is all we need.

if we kiss, you’ll be healed.

it’s not real. you just need someone to save.

could you at least wait until i’m gone?

everyone’s scared of something.

words just kind of fall out of my mouth sometimes.

it’s hot, sexy, heroic.

i took the blame to protect you.

this whole time, i’ve been trying to prove myself. prove that i belong. that i’m tough enough, strong enough. 

i care about you so much, but it just doesn’t feel the same as it used to.

by the way, now would be an excellent time to have a reliable therapist.

if even one person sees you, you don’t count as invisible anymore.

i give, like, a huge fuck. i give the biggest fuck.

i know we’re family.

i’m actually dealing with life or death things right now.

do you think i wanna be like this?

i suffer from anxiety and dread.

you have no idea what i’ve given up to protect you.

i will never find a new you.

i’d give you anything, because i love you.

if you’re in that much of a hurry to fucking die, you should just go and do it.

the second we stop looking for answers, that’s when we lose. 

we could’ve died. there’s no way we could’ve survived that.

i don’t wanna find out who i am without you.

we could be anywhere, i mean we could be here, we could be there, we could be anywhere in the world, but it would not matter, because you are my home. and i would really like to be yours.

you’re pretty when you smile.

maybe nothing’s ever gone.

i have to remind myself to breathe sometimes.

who doesn’t want easy? who doesn’t want to just fucking be okay?

i’ve never been more scared before. i’ve also never felt more alive.

being ready and being nervous aren’t mutually exclusive.

i respect you. you don’t take shit from anyone, including me. which is very cool.

i didn’t think you’d be the type to be into sharing your feelings.

when we had sex, it didn’t mean anything. it was a mistake.

a final girl must have a high threshold for pain.

i lost my mind for a couple of days. it just felt good to have a distraction. 

whenever i see some filth, i think of you.

the universe decided to drop a reminder of my greatest failure on my doorstep.

always focusing on someone else’s problem makes it easier to ignore your own.

i always knew that there was a part of you that i could never touch.

the best that i could do was love you and hope that that was enough to keep you here.

i’ve only ever done my best to save lives.

do not talk to me about pain.

it’s broken. i’m broken. and i can’t fix it.

you said we were a family. you lied. 

i’d play the hero ten times over if it meant being here with all of you.

so, as it turns out, my life is wherever you are.

try to concentrate on everything you have waiting for you when you get out of here.

you have someone waiting for you. i do not.

yeah i fucked up, but i did it my way.

it’s real, and i’m fucking terrified.

i’m doing way worse than sending nudes.

i can just radically accept that my mom is a cunt.

i’m like obsessed with being cool and popular. it’s fucking pathetic.

i think shitty things keep happening because i’ve been a self-centered asshole.

she’s mean to me. am i into that?

you’re just jealous because someone actually loves me.

i’ve never been this close to someone i’m not hooking up with. i just have a fucked up sense of intimacy.

you always make loving me seem like the easiest thing in the world.

it’s exhausting to lose a loved one.

she’s really great. she’s so great it scares the shit out of me.

am i being shitty? i don’t wanna be shitty.

being back in that house just reminds me i’ve always felt really, really lonely here.

talking about you ain’t making it about you.

everyone stares at me. i’m famous.

we don’t really have a great relationship just ‘cause of the whole ‘dead’ thing.

i don’t wanna be here anymore. i wanna be where you are.

so you’re mad at me for pushing you to be better?

i wanted to be here with you, ‘cause you’re in my head.

your superpower is that you’re shameless.

it’s not the end of the world. it’s just the beginning.

i know you. you’re already making decisions out of fear.

you said you needed me.

i wanted to do it with you.

so you’re willing to lose me, too?

i uprooted my entire life for you. i put you first because i care about you. i can’t believe you won’t do that for me. you’ll never do that for me.

bullshit, you’re lonely all the fucking time. you’re gonna die that way, too.

i guess all the time i feel kind of trapped because i can’t describe how i’m feeling.

[queen-seren]

A Laurance Zvahl Character Study

Just a fun Laurance study I slapped together of his life before becoming a Shadow Knight, the final section being a sort of a optional ending, as I thought up the scene and really wanted to include it.

Please enjoy!

Dissension

“Do you have a dream?” 

It’s dark, nothing but the cold light of the moon peeking through the pulled back curtains along each of the windows lining the large room. The slow, rhythmic breathing of the other sleeping children is the only sound that fills the silence that lurks between me and my bedmate.

I tread that fine line just on the cusp of sleep, yet my mind entirely too busy to finally catch some shut eye. 

“We all do.” I whisper in response, peeking my eyes open to peer at the girl next to me, her name entirely lost to time. I can hardly make out her face, only a lone, disjointed voice in the depths of my memory. There are too many orphans to keep track of, so many that we often share beds to accommodate.

The younger ones don’t mind it so much, thinking it to be an eternal slumber party. Little are they aware of how sick you can start to feel of it the more the time goes by. But, whatever. It's likely they’ll be adopted long before they can feel the discomfort—the restlessness of it all begin to seep in. Before the grounds of the orphanage engrave themselves on the back of your palm, like a branding that never quite leaves.

This girl is young, easy enough to tell by the way she slurs her words and that sweet, high pitch of her voice. I can’t help but wonder what’s kept her awake this long.

“But, do you?”

“Of course I do.” I answer easily, knowing too well what to say. “What’s yours?”

“Mine?”

“Yes. Yours.”

“I… I want a family.” 

Isn’t that always the case? Ask any orphan around the place, and surely enough you can piece together their answers, just to find that their wants meet back in the same place where it all began. A longing for what was taken from them so young—a lone call in the dark starless night. A frightening notion that we will always be alone.

She’ll likely find her family soon. And if she doesn’t, then she’s welcome to join the club. She’ll find she’s met with whispered gossip amongst the workers, and worry that is useless in meaning. He seems so grown for his age. Do you think he’ll be here until he’s an adult? All in good nature, I’m sure. Doesn’t seem to sting anyless, though.

“You have one right here.” The words find me, spoken so often on my tongue that I’m beginning to imagine they have a flavour—something bittersweet. No matter how many times I say it, I struggle to believe it myself. Perhaps, that's merely a testament to my selfish way of life.

“You really think so?”

Clever girl. She sees right through me.

“Of course.” I turn on my side to face her properly, just barely able to make out the curve of her large, doll-like eyes in the dark. I reach out a hand, estimating where the top of her head is before I pat gently at her hair. “We’re all family here.”

“What about your dream?” Sleep seems to overtake her words, exhaustion finally catching up to her.

I pause—sucking in a deep breath through my nose, slow and steady. The truth sits itself in the palette of my mouth, stuck, never able to quite find the right words to capture every emotion that locks itself away in the facade of a warm expression and a stupid smirk.

Even if it's only a small girl asking it of me, likely to forget my response by morning.

“What I want..?” I repeat softly, as if to remind myself what the word dream entails. To be an orphan is to be a dreamer, the two seem to go hand in hand. A dream is nothing more than a want that seems so out of reach, that you feel the need to kiss it into shooting stars, and hope Irene herself hears it. 

I want a family too.

“I want you to sleep.” I chuckle, tugging the girl into a warm embrace, hoping to lull her off. She doesn’t fight it much, snuggling up and getting comfortable before murmuring out one final time as her breathing slows.

“I hope… You find one too.”

I spend the night staring at the wall behind her—sleepless. Rolling her words over in my head again and again, as if there were another way to read them.

There isn’t.

By morning, I find myself being adopted.

—

“Cadenza! Don’t just run off like that!” 

The summer heat of Meteli is sweltering, sun glaring down on my shoulders as I pant, attempting to catch up to the girl who is so fond of scurrying about. The air is always thick when the heat picks up, a trait that comes with the village being situated in the marsh. The adults tend to complain the most, no good solution in place to the stench that tends to radiate off of the murky waters, and the cry of the cicadas at night when summer hits its peak—but the children can’t be bothered, taking the first chance they can to sink into the cool waters of the river hidden just down a cobblestone pathway behind the village.

“It’s not my fault you’re too slow, Laurance!” She giggles, hands grabbing at her dress, tugging it upwards as her feet dip into the running water. From behind, she’s nothing but a head of fiery red hair, curly and frizzy amongst the humid weather.

“You’re older than me, you know?” I whine, sweeping back brown hair doused in sweat. “I’ve been training all day too.” 

“You’re really becoming a guard?” By now, she’s found herself a spot to sit, keeping her dress perfectly dry with her feet submerged underneath the waters. Irene forbids she ever get her clothes dirty.

A wooden sword fills the scabbard at my side, just having started training as a guard. An idea that still perplexes me. As if picking up a blade was nothing more than a thoughtless task, perhaps I really am just bored. I had started practising on my own in secret, having snatched up a sword from the rack in Joh’s home, thinking he’d never notice one gone from the plethora he’d amassed. Still, to trick a Lord was a difficult task. To trick your own father, an even greater one. It didn’t take long before he caught me swinging at nothing in a small clearing in the forest, arms too weak and wobbly to properly hold the sword I had chosen.

Of course—a few slaps on the wrist were expected. 

"A real sword?" My adoptive father questioned incredulously, and all I could do was sheepishly grin back up at him before I received nothing more than an admonishing sigh. “Boy, tell me. Why do you swing this sword?” Joh held the polished blade in his own hands, keeping it from my reach as he towered over me. He gripped it with a practised hand, always ready to pick it up and fight, to defend himself. Yet, his posture was always relaxed—too relaxed. Perhaps, that was what made him most intimidating. 

To grow the son of a Lord, I had learned two things. 

One, the role of a Lord is vital to the village. They are who keep the village alive, and running. Without a Lord, a week is all it would take for a village to descend into disarray.

Two, the role of a Lord is minacious. Nothing more than sitting cattle should they let their guard down. Lords tend to cycle in and out rather quickly, never staying the same for too long in smaller villages that dot the outskirts on the eastern coast of Ru’an. A Lord’s life is always in danger.

“I want to protect everyone,” I answered with what I thought he’d want to hear. 

“You cannot protect everyone if you are a guard. Who will you point your sword on then?”

“I…” Warmth bloomed across my face as I glanced away from his gaze. The truth was simple, yet it seemed too selfish to speak aloud. Yet, my adoptive fathers gaze burned into me, neither of us would leave before he received that answer.

“Who is it you wish to protect?” Joh questioned once more in a sharp and steel-edged manner that I’ve only ever seen him use with the trained guards straight out of the academy, bowing their knees and requesting to become his soldier.

“Um…” I sputtered, “Innocent people?”

There was a moment of pause—and it was times like those where I could never quite read what was going through his head. His gaze lingered on me, as if to peel away at me, to unveil my truths and lay them bare himself. For I was an orphaned child, trust would never come easily. Even to the man I called father. The truth would always find itself stuck between my teeth, thicker than the sweet taffy that Cadenza snuck from her fathers home and shared with me.

Joh knew this.

“Try again.”

“Huh?”

“Your answer isn’t sufficient enough.”

“But I—!”

“Then come back to me when you have a better one.” Joh turned his back, blade in hand as he began his march back down the path he came. With a pause, and his back facing me, he spoke once more. “For now, use the training swords in the guard house.”

Not sufficient enough…?

I struggled for a few moments to wrap my head around the implications of his remark. Mulling over his question, I began to frown. Swept beneath a rug—not good enough. It irked me, made my blood boil beneath my skin as his words ran me for loops, as if spoken in a foreign tongue.

“—rance… Laurance!”

Cadenza’s calls tear me from the thoughts I hadn’t realised I had gotten entirely lost in. She glares at me, expectantly—Cadenza hates being ignored. Perhaps, it came with her upbringing, cherished and coddled by Hayden. Of course, the reason she sought out my company of all people was due to our similarities. Her and I both orphaned and adopted, many of the other children would never understand the severance it brought with it. That thick, heavy feeling that plagues us at night, urging us that we ought to grip our blankets tighter should we wake up in another bed by morning.

“What were you asking?”

“Seriously? I asked if you’re really becoming a guard.” She frowns at me, and perhaps a part of that frown is her worrying over my safety. She really should look after herself—a flower of a young girl. She’s likely to be sought after endlessly once she’s of age. 

I shrug, kicking off my own leather shoes as I approach the river bed. “Probably.” I respond, sinking my feet into the cold water, holding back a shiver that dares to creep up my spine. “Then I’ll be able to protect you.”

“So romantic, Laurance.” She rolls her eyes, but a smile dances on her lips. “The ladies will surely love you if you keep that up.” She’s clearly teasing, but it pulls a bright smile onto my face, unsure how else to respond.

“I’ll be a heartbreaker before you know it.” I continue the bit, hands dipping into the water and launching some at her—only for her to shriek as it hits her.

“Ugh! My dress!” She moans, thoroughly drenched as she hastily stands from her spot to follow him deeper into the river. Clumsily, mind you. Almost slipping on the rocky stones beneath their feet. “You’re such a ladies man!” She returns the favour, dousing me generously.

This version of Cadenza is my favourite. Broken free from her expectations of a dainty little girl, staying docile and pretty in hopes to find her place in the home that Hayden has provided her. She seems to forget just how much the man cherishes her, losing this spark whenever she roams the village. Happy, free and feral. It's a look that suits her. I can only hope that she will one day learn to embrace this side of herself. 

I laugh and laugh. Soaking from head to toe, the wind is cool against my skin, but the sun is burning overhead. Her laughter reaches my ears as well as I toss more water in her direction. I never want this moment to end.

Joh's remark from earlier lingers.

“Boy, tell me. Why do you swing this sword?”

A reason? Yes, I suppose everyone has a reason for what they do. I must as well.

It's later that night that I approach Joh, having finally understood his question. He seems to know what I’ll say—a newfound resolve found in the stride of my walk as I enter the Lord's house.

He asks again.

“What do you wish to protect?”

I answer something along the lines.

Moments like these. 

I wish to protect this family of mine.

—

“Easy now…”

A low sound rumbles in the beast's throat, wounded and abandoned in the forest behind Joh's home. Its eyes dark as coal but deadly, ready to bite my head off my shoulders dare I take a step too close. 

Alas, this is no ordinary beast. Anyone would only need one glance to know this creature is otherworldly, covered in golden scales. With its long snout that holds sharp teeth, baring them in my direction. But, the trail of blue blood dotting the grass up to its spot is indication enough that it's injured. It seeps from one of its large wings, left unfolded against its side, likely stinging with an aching pain at every unnecessary movement.

A wyvern.

It's said that none have been spotted for hundreds of years, yet here is one in my own father's backyard.

Its black, beady eyes burn holes into me as I slowly take a step closer, and then another—gently, gently, gently so as to not scare it. As if approaching a wounded dog, although, this creature would do much more than any dog could ever.

“Let me help you.” I speak in the softest tone I can muster, wondering if it even understands my words. I reach into my satchel, pulling out the lunch Cadenza had handed me earlier, chiding me for practising all day without any food on me. It's a sandwich, not much really, but it's a peace offering I give, holding it out to the wyvern with a steady hand.

It observes me for a second, the low trill of its growl dying out for a moment as its large eyes stare down at my hand. 

Until it turns its snout to my lunch.

“No good?” I chuckle, wrapping the sandwich back up and placing it back in my bag. Still, even without the food, its demeanour has shifted. It seems a bit calmer, sniffing at the wound on its wing before snapping its attention back to me the moment I attempt to take another step closer. My heart crashes against my ribs, nervous down to the tips of my fingers where they buzz with life.

For a moment, I’m reminded of the time Cadenza chastised me for being oh so horrible at dealing with stray cats around the village.

“Like this,” She had sighed, taking my hand herself and holding it out towards the cat. “It will come to you when it's ready.” I had stared at her for a few moments, her own eyes trained on the cat in front of us. And yet, before I knew it, I felt a small tickle against my skin as it had begun to rub its face against my hand.

I wondered, if perhaps, I too were like a stray cat in her eyes. If she had used such tactics when drawing me in and tearing away at the walls I had placed between myself and everyone else once I had been adopted. Always a hot head, I was stubborn, lonely—afraid. Perhaps she saw a bit of me in every stray she beckoned, and even a bit of herself as well.

I find myself absentmindedly following her advice once more, reaching out my hand with a twinge of hesitance. Realistically, I’m nothing more than prey in this moment, pinned down beneath the heavy, deep black of its eyes. Pits in its skull, as vast as the space between stars that splatter the night sky—attempting to drag me in. Still, I dare not look away. Our eyes meet, still as the surface of a lake, hard as crystalline diamond.

I suck in a deep breath, and wait.

It waits too.

We wait and wait until my arm begins to grow tired, and I find myself wanting to laugh at how foolish I surely look. And it's only when I close my eyes for the slightest of moments, the glare of the sun becoming a bit too overwhelming, do I feel cold scales brush against the skin of my palm.

my heart reaches my throat, thrumming wildly as the beast presses its snout further into my palm, quiet—submissive. At least, that's what I assume until I open my eyes to meet its gaze once more, audacious and cautious. Ever so familiar, it's a look I once held in my own eyes—still do. 

Wordlessly, it speaks to me—snagging onto a bit of my soul.

You and I are the same.

His name is Ungrth.

—

Sasha sinks into the magma before my own eyes, her face frozen in an indescribable agony that surely rips across her entire body, burning her down to the bone—and then some.

All I can do is stare for a few baffled moments, the sword at my side so new I can still hear the rhythmic clang of the blacksmith hammering it down into a blade. The air of The Nether is impossible to breathe, sweltering heat practically melting my armour off. My heart pounds against the drums of my ears, head on the verge of bursting.

I’m petrified.

As if it were my own life flashing before my eyes, my mind wanders. It wanders and wonders, back to a time where Sasha had slapped me across the back the moment I had returned to Meteli from the guard academy, dragging me into my first night shift with her down by the docks.

“Are you ready?” She questioned, her eyes trained on the lone moon. Its light fit her complexion nicely, she had always been a beauty of the village. Hair as pale as porcelain, eyes as deep as obsidian. Steady, calm, but ever elusive. 

"For what?" I responded.

She looked at me, knowingly with a gentle smile. She knew I had the answer, competent as I was. So, she refused to respond, instead, holding her hand out for a moment towards the moon, a golden band adorning her ring finger. A pledge of love.

She would marry her fiance soon. 

Her question resonated once more in my head as I stared down at the calm waters.

Are you ready?

Or, perhaps.

Are you willing to put your life at stake?

“Go!” She cries at me, her voice mangled and raw—attempting to rouse me from my stupor. It takes Ulrich grabbing me by the arm and dragging me away from the sight before my legs find feeling once more and sputter to a momentary stop.

“No! We can’t just—”

“She’s gone.” He reasons sharply and pulls at me until I give, not an ounce of emotion in his voice. Yet the set of his face says a thousand words. He had watched her grow as a young girl. He would be the first to break the news to her fiance.

Sasha’s groans of agony reach the cusp of my ears, and the purple firmament of the portal barely brushes my nose. Ulrich tugs me past the film, and I snap my head back to glance at her one final time.

A figure cloaked in red stares down at her writhing form, nothing but a head of black hair from what my eyes see. 

Until the world yawns back into existence.

—

“You want me to dye your hair?”

The wound of Joh’s death still lingers in the pit of my chest, festering and bubbling into an unending black maw that drains and drains. I feel an ache in the same spot the arrow had pierced him, as if the tip had shattered and taken root in the centre of my own heart.

It’s my fault.

“Yeah, just… Do whatever you want with it.” I glance up at Cadenza, sitting down on my bed. Surely, she sees the bags under my eyes, yet she says nothing, only looking at me similarly as she did the day we returned from The Nether without Sasha. She reaches into her own deerskin purse, pulling out a small wooden comb she’s kept on her as long as we’ve known each other—a keepsake from her mother's vanity before she was orphaned.

She sits herself down on the bed next to me, reaching for my unabashedly dishevelled hair. I haven’t brushed it since—

“Do you want to cut it?” Cadenza hums, beginning to work her way through the knots in my hair. It's moments like these where she feels like the mother I’ve never had. Yet, it's bold to call her such with no point of reference—so instead she remains my sister, even if not by blood. She has no qualms in the matter.

“No…” My eyes trail down to where my hair ends at top of my chest, I hardly remember why I grew it out so long in the first place. It must have been cut last on the day I left for the guard academy. Joh had sat me down with a pair of scissors and snipped it off himself. One of the few moments I can recall him being something of a true father. 

The memories ache like bruised skin, a feeling not unfamiliar, stinging more the further I press on them.

We sit in silence for a few moments, nothing but the sound of her comb, occasionally catching on a knot where she gently tugs at it until it comes free.

“So, what will you do?”

“I told you, do whatever you—”

“Not that. You know that’s not what I’m talking about.” 

I bite at my bottom lip, brows setting in harsh lines against my forehead.

“It's not your fault.”

But, her reassurance means nothing. Not when I had sworn to protect him. The Lord of Meteli. The man who had adopted me. My father.

“Then who am I meant to blame?” My voice catches with emotion, agony—longing. A wish to turn back time that will never be fulfilled. “I’m not fit to be anyone's guard. Not even yours.”

“Nonsense.” Her hand pauses for a moment, and her tone finds a sternness she rarely takes with me, “You are one of the most capable guards in this land, Laurance. But, you are only human.”

Only human…

“Must I become something inhumane then to finally feel like I’m enough again?” The weight of my words fracture me like glass, scattered down to the depths of my soul. Yet, they are better spoken and set free than left to decay me any further.

“No, Laurance…” I can hear the frown in her voice as she reaches to hug me close to her chest from behind. Cadenza doesn’t say anything else for a long while, but I somehow know the sentiment that echoes in her mind.

You will always be enough for me.

—

Aphmau… Aph-ma-u… The name seems to linger on my tongue as she walks towards Hayden's home. Something about it is uncanny, in the same sense that water does not flow upwards, nor does your reflection wear a different expression than your own.

She seems ambitious enough, beautiful in a way I can’t quite place. It's not the slope of her nose, nor the shape of her eyes that draws me in. No, not even the plump of her lips. It's her entirety that's alluring in a way I almost want to describe as otherworldly—unnatural. All this I’m aware of, yet I have fallen still.

Enough so to make a blundering fool of myself with nothing but un-noteworthy words of grandiose and corny invitations to dinner. It is all I know to do, a familiar face I’ve adorned when speaking to women of the village. No one likes someone who is too pushy. It's the best I can do to avoid their machinations.

I want to study her, want to know what draws me towards her like no one else ever has. Peel away at her for as long as she allows me to—which doesn’t seem to be very much—just so I can find the root of this feeling festering in my chest. For her countenance is entirely ordinary, yet I have become a moth to a flame—for she is like the sun.

She returns the next day, tension high in the village, my own mind spinning circles around the disappearance of Cadenza. I cannot move from my post, fearing Kenmur and Hayden may rip each other's heads off should I leave, already at eachothers throats attempting to claim the position of Lord—Cadenza’s absence only adding fuel to their fire. So, Aphmau is something of a godsend when she agrees to search for Cadenza in my place.

One of many favours I will be indebted to her for.

—

Okay, okay…This isn’t good. 

Scratch that.

This is awful.

The smell of The Nether, charred and burnt—brings back enough memories to turn my stomach—yet the urgency of the moment wills me to push forward. Now is no time to freeze up, not like last time.

I just need to get Cadenza and leave.

Sasha…Sasha, she’s alive somehow. Or is alive even the right word to use? I saw her with my own two eyes in Pheonix Drop. Yet, mere moments ago I had passed the spot she had sunken into the magma on that fateful day. Tried my best not to stare at it, a battle both in front and behind us, Aphmau’s voice beckoning for my help (she hardly even needed me), but I stuttered only for a moment to glance. 

Surely enough, there was nothing to see but bubbling lava.

“Go, Aphmau! You need to leave!” I urge her—the spectre of The Shadow Lord pounding against the barrier Castor had quickly scrambled together.

“What?! I can't leave you here, Laurance!”

“Take Cadenza and leave! Now!”

Castor, of course, grabs Aphmau by the arm and begins to drag her down the stairs in which we came, Cadenza in hand. I just need to buy them some time, and then I’ll make an escape—surely. 

I wonder how Sasha felt in her final moments as the lot of us sprinted to the portal, leaving her behind. She was already gone, I know, but I’ve spent nights mulling over the image. Her figure haunts me in my darkest dreams, cold, dead, ghastly fingers gripping at my shoulder, alongside Joh. A reminder of the weight on my back. The duty I serve.

 So, this is the least I can do, right? The highest honour a guard can receive is to sacrifice themself. Well, that's what I was always told at the academy. Battered and bruised every morning and every night, they’d remind me what I’m fighting for. What they believed I was fighting for. The guard academy never questioned its students why they were there, everyone had a reason. All they assumed is that you’d chase honour just as the rest do. To a guard, there is nothing more important. Whether or not I fully agree with it… Whatever, surely now isn’t the time to dwell on it.

I can hardly breathe by the time I escape the fortress, the heat cooking me from the inside out. A group of mindless Shadow Knights skirt along my heels as I push past what my body deems capable in a full sprint towards the portal, and soon enough it comes into sight.

I made it. I—freeze to a halt at the sight of another man by the portal. His eyes are a striking green, much like my own, and I can almost make out something of an apology in them as he reaches to tamper with the purple warp that would guide me back home.

“What are you…”

It shatters. It shatters into a million pieces, as if it were the thinnest glass tempered. The portal lays there bare and empty, my exit gone.

Something within me fractures—slowly, at first. So slow, until I begin to feel the gaps between myself as if they were beneath my own fingertips, hardly noticing that I’ve been dragged off away from the portal, back into the fortress.

…

It’s difficult to piece together the moments of lucidity from that point on. I taste nothing but blood in the back of my throat, as pain finds its way onto every inch of my skin, stinging—burning. They bleed me out onto the warm, deep red floors of the fortress, and my mind begins to wonder where my blood ends and the ground begins in flash seconds of clarity. It's a miracle my heart still beats.

The fractures widen.

Sasha visits me in the prison alongside another man, my eyes bleary and mind disjointed. I can’t piece together how long I’ve been here for, how long they’ve tormented me.

“Just get it over with, Gene.” She glares at the man next to her, Gene, and he smirks.

“What? Can’t stand to see him this way, Sasha? Feeling sentimental?”

“No.” She retorts, jangling a key in her hand which presumably will open the door to my cell. “His blood is stinking up the place.”

“Do it yourself then.” 

She scowls, unlocking the door to the cell and waltzing in. I’d move if possible, but more bones in my body are broken than I can still count. So, I simply stare at her. Watch her every move with sluggish eyes. Whisper her name in a broken plea. As if she were the Lady Irene herself—I beg for salvation.

She doesn’t seem to hear it, or perhaps, she doesn’t care to.

She pulls me up from my slump by the hair, taking a moment to glance me up and down before a bemused smirk finds her lips.

“You look awful.” It’s difficult to tell whether she’s talking about the orange hair, or the countless gashes across my skin.

I muster enough energy to spit blood at her face, leading her to recoil and drop me back onto the floor. My mind howls, yet my lips barely twitch.

“What? Wanted to look a little bit more like Cadenza?” She snickers in disgust, wiping my blood and spit from her cheek before digging her shoe into an open wound on my thigh. “Mommy can’t save you now, Laurance.”

No matter if this woman wears her face, this isn't the Sasha I once knew.

Further and further apart, the space between the shards reflect back a darkness in me I never knew.

"Shall we proceed then?" Gene questions from behind her, and Sasha takes a step to the side, generously lifting her foot off my wound, to allow him passage. "Looks like you won't hold out much longer if we just leave you here."

He crouches down to meet my gaze, and what I had assumed were black pits for eyes reveal themselves to be a deep, cerulean blue. For a moment, bleeding in sepia, I imagine myself back by the docks in Meteli. The fresh air, and the scent of salt wafting along the wind and through my hair. Reminded of the cool stream of the riverbed, Cadenza's figure perched along the grass, toes dipped in the water. I take in a deep breath—suffocated by the heavy, hot atmosphere of The Nether.

"Let me ask you, Laurance, why did you become a guard?" Gene questions, a menacing, blood tinged greatsword in his hand. The tip of the blade rests against my chest, right above my heart.

Every nerve in my body lurches, begging me to move. I can't.

"What's it… To you?" I muster out, voice hoarse, throat torn and dry.

"Just thought a reminder would be nice."

I stare at him for a few moments, perplexed. Until something about my gaze is so hilarious that he can't stop himself from laughing.

"Oh, no, not for me." He grins, "You're the one that's going to need it."

It's nothing but a moment of sharp pressure against my skin before the blade wedges itself into the centre of my heart.

And it stops.

What was once whole now shatters, two sides of one mirror—split apart. A few lone pieces scatter off into the abyss, memories and fondness that will never return, forever lost. The nothingness seeps in to fill the gaps, and the world itself is rendered to an absolute—agonising, euphoric and finite. The corporeal slips away, and the mind splinters down to the soul. A severance so deep that it cuts through the ligaments, separating the body from the spirit. All to make room for a new found darkness in the hollow space where the heart lies caged between the ribs.

And it starts.

Your body feels wrong. Every inch of your skin, every bone beneath. Every cell in your blood, every beat of your own chest. Its rhythm is wrong—you are wrong. 

“Do you have a dream?”

So, so many. Yet they’re nothing but blank canvases once you glance back at them.

“Boy, tell me. Why do you swing this sword?”

You… You can't seem to remember.

"Are you ready?"

Have you ever been? Knowing this would be your fate, what answer would you have given her then?

“Must I become something inhumane then to finally feel like I’m enough again?”

How ironic to think back to that in such a moment. You have always been the nostalgic sort. But, most cruelly, a lone voice swims in the pits of your mind, so familiar, so soothing. Her voice that of a swan song. She sings her response which you never heard to begin with.

"You will always be enough for me."

Cadenza is safe, far far away from The Nether. For that, you may at least be proud of yourself.

Ah, right… That is why you swing your sword. To keep her smiling in every shining memory. Protecting your loved ones, a task you deemed to be ever so noble as a small child. To covet those moments, safely locked away in the soft spot of your heart. 

Cadenza… Aphmau… The prospect of her alluring beauty somehow a guiding light in your disembodied mind. A lone dove in the darkness, a white, pure feather. Ethereal, delicate—intangible.

She would be prettiest pierced by the edge of your own blade.

.

.

.

Rest. 

For this is only the beginning of your neverending strife.

—

(Time passes. 

So much time passes. 

You hardly recognize the person you started as before the entire journey began.

The world has shifted fifteen years. The trails you ran along as an orphaned boy now grown over and forgotten, the river you played in now dry, only its husk remaining. The town you once called home now a desolate ghost—an inconsolable wasteland of your once cherished memories.

Yet, you struggle to cherish them the same as you once had all those years ago.

So when Aphmau (Irene bless her lost soul) approaches you, asking for your advice in this war as she had done so before, you no longer have the words that will solve her issues. Not a single solution finds your tongue—for you are a wanderer, a mere rabid dog, leashed by devotion, just itching to bite. 

The gaps you feel within yourself never seem to close up, no matter what you do.

All you can tell her is that you have no clue what this war will bring, and what devastation it will cause, but that it can only end in bloodshed.

Anxious, always on the tips of her toes, and eyes constantly over her own shoulder, her weariness begins to bleed in. She's exhausted, she dares not admit it—yet her eyes will never lie to you. 

She asks you why war seems to always follow her.

You tell her that war will always wage, no matter where she goes or where she looks. Should she eradicate every threat that taints this land, there are other wars to worry of.

"Where?" She questions.

However, her face shifts in a painful understanding before you can even utter a word.

She seems to have found the answer herself.)

[roseillith]

Pls don’t hurt yourself. Deleting a blog is one thing but pls don’t hurt yourself. So sorry to hear you’re feeling this way. You put so much joy and beauty into the world via this blog im one of many recipients of that and no matter how you feel you look like externally, i and many others get a chance to see your soul and it’s beautiful, expansive, smart, inspirational and full of humour! As a black person I also sometimes feel alienated and off key when my fam speak ga of twi around me and yet haven’t taught me, sometimes I feel so disconnected from everyone and feel like I’m floating away with nothing to hold me, no anchor to any sort of real meaningful life. Betrayal from friends or from love, broken heartedness, loneliness strike but still there is a lil bit of light, there is the wind blowing on my face, a glass of water, a favourite song, some sun. There are small joys that remind us we are not alone. And You are not alone and I hope that one day soon you receive all the joy light and good energy you put into this harsh world. Pls don’t give up. We love you, keep your head up

tyvm I appreciate your message deeply, I feel a constant push n pull whenever I log on & post on here, the things that I’ve posted recently (including this) has made feel ashamed in that I have spilled out all of my thoughts n feelings out on this public platform, the same place that I’ve been constructing as way to separate my physical& literal self and run towards things that I have stored inside me, all of the stuff the I carry along with me whenever I’m out in public, that I know I can’t share w/ any nigga that I know out there instead I try to avert my eyes from all other dudes out there cuz I know I don’t fit in and feel physically gross when I’m around w/ a bunch of dudes, me failing to be a man in general and avoid man-to-man convos irl and instead retreating those inner stuff into the girl that I want to be, the kind of girl where I know I can apply all the totality of myself out there into the world.

Now I’m just staring at this public persona that I have made of myself feeling increasingly distant day-to-day and I wonder why I put all my all into this blog w/ gifs,pics,anime stuff, film stuff, music stuff etc. when I can’t muster up the courage to talk about all that shit outside out aloud without having to be disgusted from hearing the sound of my voice or/and how the person/s I’m saying it to is even viewing me physically & as a person/“grown up man” having the courage to go out and transition to the girl that I can see in the distance.

The one rule I had when making this blog was to never spill out my personal shit of actually being a man irl who’s found solace and significant more ease in being a woman online cuz I know that if I ever did that it would be embarrassing & the end for me personally, I wouldn't be able to look myself in the eye, all the shit that I had posted on here it all being a lie to me, and worse of all I never really took in any support from anyone else here I had this lone wolf-esque mentality where I always try and not get close to anybody I was mutuals w/, never share anything abt my personal shit, always looking through the window seeing other ppl chill with others, and when I look at myself on here I’m feel still as alone as I do irl & tbh much of it is my fault from not being able to put myself out there and feeling disassociated from myself in whatever I do on here and irl

[bleue-flora]

did c!Dream even realize c!Tommy was suicidal in exile other than that one time where he said its not your time to die yet also on the topic of c!Discduo friendship in exile. THIS

18:39 and 20:03 https://youtu.be/c6ILC5Z5bD4?si=Z7ysWy9LOhcPf22P

the way c!Dream yells. hello?

I mean I’d have to probably watch more Exile to answer properly but, Dream’s not an idiot, Tommy is very depressed and stuff, and in his conversation with Punz later he talks about checking on him to make sure he’s okay [clip] which gives me the impression that he did know and care. But I have to also say, Dream threatened to kill him if he didn’t give over his items, so if he was always suicidal, why wouldn’t he just let him? Ya know? In that stream you linked, he seems to want to not die quite a lot asking for help against the mobs so I get the impression the suicidal ideation didn’t come till later. Even so it can be a very impulsive or sudden thought to happen when you’re upset and miserable.

I myself almost drove my car off a bridge after my friend sent me a nasty text message. Does that make her an abuser? - no. She was hurting, I hurt her, she hurt me back, and it was a shitty thing for her to do, but I don’t think she’s this terrible person because of it… anyways suffice to say a lot of people are suicidal, in fact every single one of my friends have been close, and that’s not to minimize the seriousness, I’m not saying that in any sense. (Please me mindful of what you say and do and pay attention to people in the room who may be hurting, because you never know who’s sitting at the bottom of the ocean like Tommy.) I only mean to say we all are human beings suffering and feeling alone in the world. (Ironic isn’t it? That so many of us feel alone in the world? I saw a quote once that said something along the lines of that if you ever feel lonely look at the moon and realize that there is someone else looking at the moon too and feeling the same way.) And sometimes someone can be hurting, and suicidal and depressed and hurt by others without those people being abusers, evil, bad, shitty, horrible people. In other words, Exile didn’t have to be horrible to push Tommy to the edge, not saying it wasn’t but saying it didn’t have to. In my mind, it’s likely he would have ended up on that tower from the fact that Tubbo didn’t visit him alone, or if nobody visited, if Dream didn’t show up, maybe he would’ve almost jumped sooner. Again to reiterate, I say this not to downplay Exile or Dream’s actions or anything, I’m just throwing out some thoughts on the matter…

Anyways… on a less serious note, Dream screaming in protecting Tommy is hilarious [clip] and [clip]. Reminds me of Techno’s “Phil, Look Out!”

[phantomram-b00]

Imma use my hottake post to explain it since I felt I should give more context with this take to explain myself why I have this opinion on the topic of this.

For those who don’t know or don’t wanna look back with the link, it basically that my hottake is that I don’t like the theory of what Crowley’s angel name was/could’ve been. I know this might be a bit controversial since I think everyone in this fandom (not to assume ofc), and whilst I get the curiously since Crowley almost never talk about his time over at heaven, mostly for valid reason that I’ll get to. Before I get into this, I know it been month but I wanna still give that this haunted blog/post does contain heavy spoilers so if your planning to watch good omens or haven’t seen season two yet go watch it and come back here, or you can still read— what can I say, I’m only a phantom that have lot to say about good omens and making it everyone else’s problem. But still spoiler warning ahead! So without further or do,

let get into it and talk about our favorite snake demon and a good old fashion lover boy/girl/enby—

So, okay, seeing Angel Crowley, that’s cool and honestly wholesome— despite the poor trauma he’s going to endure and will sauntered vaguely downward for. I remember hearing the theory about how his name could be Raphael, seen some AO3 tags of Crowley used to be Raphael or just people buzzing what his name could’ve been (even some saying it could be Castiel or Cassiel). And while the curiously of it all is cool, for a while I couldn’t really pin it at first as to why I personally didn’t like it. And Idk if that make be boring or a bitch for not wanting to know, it just to me, I felt why does it matter if Crowley himself don’t even want to remember about his time at heaven?

Sure season 2 when he didn’t even say it might have been what spiked it, but i think the whole point about him is the fact that he clearly moved on from it. Does he still hold resentment? Of course, why wouldn’t he be? And from unfair circumstances too:

But, as we’ve seen from most of the flashback, he moved on from it. He using hell as long as he can (lonely? Yep, which is a perfect parallel to how Aziraphale following heaven—), he doesn’t want to remember the angel he is before, he even said it to Aziraphale when he tried to stop him from killing Job’s kids. But I think of how he’s dealt with is how his trauma grew seeing how he doesn’t want to be considered nice or kind; I feel it goes deeper than just because he’s a demon now, I believe (and this is just my observation), he rather not remember the kinder side he was once before because of how the “light” casted him away and how heaven runs things. So why would he want to be associated with those word when it remind him of his time, he rather not remember it (or in a case run away from heaven as much as he can), he rather associate himself from being mean or remember himself as a demon now rather than an angel he once was. (Even though, he is very kind and I wish to hug him. Don’t start-).

Plus, he more comfortable with his new name now, that’s why he even changed it back at the flashback of the crucifixion of Jesus as his named used to be Crawly (which honestly real.) and changed it to Crowley (now technically he changed it again to Anthony J Crowley, but we hardly heart anyone even Aziraphale say it outside from the blitz flashback, so I kinda wanna count it but I’mma not just incase, but I like the name tho-), and since then, he’ve wore that name proudly and never look back, and Aziraphale an ally he is suppose him and call him by his prefer name. That is him saying “I’m not whoever I was before, so I’m going to change my name to move on from my past”, and honestly I stand, I love the fact he want to move on from his time as an angel/move away from his deadname to be the person he is today, proud of the wily serpent ^v^

“But phantom, that still doesn’t explain why you dislike it?”

You’re right, it still doesn’t so imma explain it a bit more, I just feel it shouldn’t matter what his name was, it really up to his (or Neil’s but this is Crowley we’re talking about) own terms, it him that should be able to say his deadname. And if it never reveal, I wouldn’t care since Good Omens from both season shown, Crowley moved on from his angelic past even if he have the grudges he have now after 6000 years he rather accepts his life now and hopefully with the Angel that have supported him and stood by him. And I know the finally is making it seem like Azirapahel want to change him, but like I said here that I don’t think that the case, I don’t think he would ever want him to revert back to the person he was once before, he could never ask Crowley to do such a thing knowing the progress he made. Like I said and will say again, I think this was Azirapahle (in a poor way given the situation and that their communication is the equivalent of a ghost (invisible as fuck)) to give Crowley a change to fix the broken and toxic system heaven been running on since the dawn of time, to give Crowley the chance to fix what need to be fixed with Aziraphale, and Crowley said no, and I think rightly so in his point of view, heaven did treated everyone especially Crowley poorly and is the main source of his trauma, so I’m happy he said no, it not his place to fix the one thing that in his eyes was broken and have always been. So good jobs Crowley for standing your grounds.

But I’m getting ahead of myself, my point is that, Crowley have moved on and it shouldn’t matter what his deadname was, I think we should all respect that when it come to not just his but everyone’s deadname. Crowley clearly doesn’t have to remember his time on heaven, and I gotta respect that. Because if I was in his shoes, I wouldn’t neither if I was a bit braver than he was.

“But phantom what if it was revealed anyway?”

Again I wouldn’t care, like the commenter said (I don’t know how they feel about tagging so I won’t just to be respectful) and I do agree, if it had to be revealed it should be on his own terms. And I do agree, it is up to Crowley, he should be able to say it as it could garner the impactful moment, especially if he does say like “I’m not *this name* anymore” or whatever he’ll say in season 3, (which please let it be greenlit, I’m begging atp).

And honestly, I don’t doubt it really, it seem it might be revealed, which, fine, this is Neil’s work so gotta respect. Just I hope it on his term, and that no one else say it, I don’t even want aziraphale to say it. Just him. He deserve it.

But that’s my take on it. That’s my spew on this. Might be boring or lame to not be curious, but honestly like I said, he’ve going down a path away from heaven and accepted what happen to him. May not be in a healthiest way but regardless I love this demon and I am happy he moved on and I can’t wait to see him again in season 3, David Tennant a perfect Crowley and I wouldn’t have it any other way ^v^

But I hope you enjoy my yet another insane ramble of this show, frankly this show is becoming my life atp and I don’t hate it. I love this show, it my comfort, I’m happy to have this show; if you want to ask me any other questions you can in the AMA box or comments, but also tell me what do you guys think of this theory? Do you love it? Have qualms with it? Or anything? Tell me in the comments or reblog. As always this is phantom, imma go haunt somewhere else.

[readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure]

Hi!! P, 13 for Billy! Angsty but with a happy ending, please! Thank you!

Here you go, anon. 💕

This one is set while Billy is still a Marine.

P. Fighting/almost breaking up 13. 'What happened to us?'

----------------------------------------------

It all started with a really shit day. One of those days where everything that could go wrong did go wrong and all you wanted to do was to crawl into bed with your boyfriend and have him hold you for a while.

But you couldn’t. Because your boyfriend was thousands of miles away, in a desert somewhere in Afghanistan.

So, when you logged on to your scheduled Skype call, your mood was already dismal.

Usually getting to see Billy in any way you could was enough to brighten your mood, but today the low-quality picture and clunky signal just served as an unwelcome reminder of how he wasn’t there with you.

You needed him, and he wasn’t there. Just like he hadn’t been there all the other days you had needed him over the past several months. And all the months of his last two tours.

You were immensely proud of him for his service and would never ask him to quit the Marines for you… but it was hard being left behind. It was lonely.

In retrospect, you should have sent him an email and rescheduled your Skype call, claiming to be sick or something. But you had thought you could power through. You had thought that Billy would make you feel better.

You had thought wrong.

He had quickly noticed your sour mood, which only made his own mood sour in turn, and soon you found yourself in a heated fight while Skype kept freezing on your angry expressions.

‘Is it too much to want to enjoy this time together?’ said Billy in an angry whisper. He didn’t have the luxury of yelling, something that satisfied your petty side. ‘After all the shit that goes on here, I think I deserve a break and a chance to chat with my girl.’

‘We’re not together, Billy,’ you reminded him. ‘We’re on whole different continents. I love you and I’m proud of you, but you can’t expect me to always be okay with that.’

‘You’ve never had trouble before.’

You let out a bark of disbelieving laughter. ‘I’ve never let you see it before,’ you corrected. ‘I can’t count how many times I have cried myself to sleep because I missed having you next to me. Every Valentine’s Day and birthday and Christmas. Every shitty day that would have been made better with just one hug from you.’

‘That’s not my fault,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘I had already signed up when we got together. You knew what you were getting into.’

‘So I’m not allowed to miss you?’

‘No.’

You stared at the screen in shock. That had not been the answer you had been expecting.

Billy seemed to realise his mistake straight away, and he groaned as he scrubbed a hand through his hair. ‘That’s not what I… Look, my tour is over in a few weeks. Then none of this will matter.’

‘Unless the tour gets extended like the last one.’

Unless you don’t come home at all, you didn’t say.

‘Then we’ll just have to deal with it,’ he sighed. Something caught his attention and his gaze drifted to above the camera. He let out an annoyed growl and then looked back to the screen. ‘I gotta go. People are waiting to use the computers.’

You nodded, knowing that there was nothing you could do about it. You weren’t going to deny other people the chance to talk to their loved ones just because you and Billy were fighting.

‘I… I’ll see you soon.’

When the call ended, you finally let the tears fall down your cheeks.

----

Billy didn’t get the chance for another Skype call after that, and the only communication you had was emails which were kept short and succinct.

Only a few more weeks to go. I know.

Mission went well. I’m glad.

Got overlooked for the promotion again. I’m sorry.

Frank says hi. Hi Frank.

What happened to us?

That last message went unanswered.

But you would get your answer soon enough you supposed. By some miracle, Billy’s tour hadn’t been extended, and he was probably already on his flight home.

The thought made you equal parts happy and scared. You had missed him so much and couldn’t wait to see his face in person again… but what if this fight was not something you could both get past? What if the next time you saw him was also the last time?

It was those thoughts that had you stress-cleaning, and you were just about done with the kitchen when someone knocked on your front door. You almost ignored them but decided better of it when they knocked again.

‘All right, I’m coming,’ you grumbled as you made your way to the door.

Your annoyance disappeared the second you opened it.

There, on your doorstep, was Billy, dressed in a suit and holding his duffle bag in one hand and flowers in the other.

‘Why didn’t you use your key?’ you asked dumbly before you shook yourself out of it and stepped aside to let him in.

He gave you a small smile as he passed you. You caught a whiff of his cologne as he did, and your mind finally caught up with the fact that he was really there in front of you.

He was home.

Billy put his bag on the floor near the wall and then turned back to hold out the flowers to you.

You took them silently, and then immediately chucked them away as you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him as tightly as you could.

‘I’m so glad you’re okay,’ you cried into his shoulder. You could deal with the fight and the distant emails and the unanswered questions later. Right now, all that mattered was that he had made it home again. ‘I’m so glad you’re home.’

Billy’s arms wrapped around you, making you cry harder. ‘Me too, baby,’ he whispered, and he pressed a kiss to your temple. ‘It’s so good be back for good.’

That had you pulling away, but Billy didn’t let you get very far. He only gave you just enough room to be able to look up at him. ‘For good?’ you asked, hope welling in your chest.

Billy nodded and reached up to wipe the drying tears from your cheeks. ‘I’ve finally got enough saved up to get out. I’ve been emailing the bank, and I think I can get a small loan to set up Anvil at last.’

Anvil had been his dream for a while now, but you hadn’t realised it had been so close.

Your smile could have rivalled the sun at that moment. ‘I’m so proud of you,’ you said.

You wanted nothing more than to kiss him senseless, maybe drag him straight to the bedroom, but the fight still lingered at the back of your mind, telling you that he might not want that.

Something must have shown in your eyes, because Billy suddenly cupped your cheeks and crashed his lips to yours, dispelling every one of your doubts.

You would get past it. You were going to be okay.

You clung to the collar of his shirt like it was a lifeline, even after the kiss ended.

‘I’m not leaving you ever again,’ he said, voice suddenly more serious than you’d ever heard it. ‘No more missed birthdays or holidays.’

You shook your head, feeling silly for the things you’d said all those weeks ago.

‘I’m sor-’

Billy cut off your apology with another kiss, this one less impassioned and more tender.

More loving.

‘Me too,’ he whispered once he had pulled away again. He rested his forehead against yours, and you both closed your eyes, relishing in the fact that you were both together.

You were both still together.

‘You asked what happened to us,’ he said. ‘The way I see it, the only thing that happened is we became stronger than before. Because now we know we can get through anything.’

Tears pricked at your eyes again, but you didn’t let them fall.

You couldn’t agree with him more.

[lontarkata]

Crimson Moon

Based on JK Rowling Archives of Remus Lupin at Pottermore, merely fiction, Written by Tiri Tirtha.

December, 1970.

In a Little town, Scotland.

The Lupin’s House

Remus sat across the fire grate; the weather was all snowy white. The cold started to feel like tiny needles leading to his back. He stared at the gleaming red embers, focusing on how it sounds when the lumber gets burned and crackled.

The crackling sound was a very unpleasant sound to hear. It reminds him of his cracking bones, and he recalls the pain he must endure during the event. He finally decides to sit near the window, watching the snowflakes falling and touching the glass. His favorite brown blanket wrapped around his body, embracing him in a warmth he never truly had.

“I’ve tried my best, darling!” it was Lyall’s voice. Upstairs, his voice sounds crack in between frustration and anger. “I’ve tried everything I could! I sent letters to all my fellows who were best in alchemy, potion, and anything. I beg them in any possible way to find the cure!”

“Maybe you haven’t done enough!” Hope was nearly shouting; her voice sounded muffled. “Remus is getting bigger, Lyall. He’s becoming more dangerous than we could ever handle!”

“I know. I understand your point, Honey. “ Lyall sighed, the sound of sliding chair upstairs was audible.

The house is relatively tiny yet cozy for the three of them to live. The walls and floors are made of good quality wood. Bedrooms are all upstairs, left only the kitchen, dining room, and the fire grate where Remus was.

“Now, listen to me, Lyall..” she said firmly. “I love him. I love my son like every mother does, but Remus is magical. I don’t know whether I should blame myself for feeling afraid of him for the last five years, or I should be grateful for having him alive and suffering every month.” Hope breaks into tears.

“Oh, darling. My beautiful lady, I’m grateful to have you as my wife. I promise you, I promise we’ll get through this together, okay? I’ll give whatever it costs to find the cure.”

“Promises don’t keep us safe, Lyall. It’s just a matter of time before we die in our son’s hands! He lost his mind every time he turned into that monster!”

“He never was a monster, Hope! Bold of you assume him as a Monster!” Lyall hissed.

“That is a monster possessing my son’s body! That is a monster in the corner of that room, curled up in the darkness every full moon! It was Evil! Soulless!”

Lyall was stunned; it’s all called his memory back to when he said the exact words to Fenrir Greyback about their pack, as werewolves, ‘soulless, evil, deserving nothing but death.’ A deafening silence filled the air, but Hope's sobbing remained.

“It’s all my fault.. My Son is suffering every month for the rest of his life because of me. I’m a terrible father, Hope! I would rather give my life for my son if I could!” Lyall wept and tried his best to make it less audible.

Tears escaped from Remus’s eyes, he heard everything from the couch. His hearing ability is such a curse for him. Sometimes, he listened to her mother crying all night or his father begging on the phone to someone.

He watched the snowflake rain down on a cabin across the house, a small, dim cabin. Remus bit his lower lip and rubbed his eyes. He felt like a burden to this family, knowing and doing nothing for his household except being a disgrace. He wiped the tears from his freckles cheeks when he heard someone coming downstairs.

It was his father, “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said with a slightly forced smile. Remus didn’t answer; he just turned around, stared at him, and frowned. “Winter?” Lyall once more asked.

The Sun no longer bathes their house with warm light; it’s all cloudy grey, “No. I don’t really like winter. It’s cold, bleak and lonely. “

Silence: It’s all silence after the word ‘Lonely.’ Lyall knew how desperate his son faced loneliness for a half-decade, so he had no words to say.

“Aight, boys! Ready to camp?” Hope came with a basket of food and three bottles of milk. “Remus, put your sweater on, or you’ll get cold.”

“Okay, we gotta get going now, boys!”

Remus can see his mother’s red and puffy eyes; he gives her a smile and walks towards her. “Let me help you, Mom. A Lady should never carry something too heavy.”

“Oh, that’s my boy!” exclaimed Lyall. “I taught him that, so that you know.” he whispered to Hope,

The woman can only give his husband a single glare and giggles. Tonight is a full moon; Hope and Lyall always make scenarios to make it seem alright. For the last two months, they pretended to be camping together.

Three of them will go to the cabin; Lyall used to tell some wizarding world and his wonderful times at Hogwarts. Hope will only listen and give him some interested reactions. Remus had already heard the story repeatedly and never complained when his father told the same story.

They walked into the small cabin across the house; it looked dim and nearly empty. Only a floor mattress and some blankets are left in the corner of the room. Scratches were almost in every wall, covered by rough paint polish, which Lyall always did after the full moon.

The walls were earthy brown, so if there were any blood splatter, it wouldn’t be visible enough. The cabin has a window next to the door where they came in. It was covered by iron bars. Remus hates this room; he hates the smell of paint, the wet wooden floor, and his blood, which failed to be thoroughly cleaned on the floor. He swallowed hard, trying to be grateful to survive death and have loving parents.

Hope rolled out a carpet and sat on it. She tapped his side, “Come here, boy. Let’s eat some snacks.”

Lyall followed her lead; he sat on the other side and started grabbing an apple. “So, what are we going to talk about tonight, Remus? Have you ever heard about the poltergeist?”

They both made so much effort to make it like regular camping when it was only two hours before he transformed. Remus held his bitter, clenched his hands, and sat in the middle of his parents. He looks pale under the moonlight.

“I wanna know about the banshee, Dad. Or your other Hogwarts life as a student.“ Remus always wants to go, to Hogwarts. He always craved friendship. At least, a friend. But he knew his condition was extraordinary, which is not possible for him to go to any school in the world.

Remus laid on, along with his parents, and Lyall began the story. Instead of listening, Remus’s mind was somewhere else. He can hear his mother's heartbeat getting faster, anxious, worried, and terrified. Meanwhile, his father sounded slower but still faster than usual.

Remus wondered, is there any universe where he is an ordinary boy? Can he have an incredible journey without feeling like a monster for everyone he loves? Is there anyone in the world who will love him more unconditionally and with no fear?

The guilt he felt every month was enough to tear him into pieces, and the pains he endured every time he transformed were never a good friend of his. No one on earth would be glad and grateful to have such a person like him; the thoughts kept hunting him in every sleep he could get.

Time passed; it was only five minutes before the full moon. Hope and Lyall rosed up to get ready. Hope gave Remus a long and deep look; she caressed his hair and kissed him on the forehead.

“Remus, no matter what happens, Mommy always love you. Okay? I love you, son.”

Remus heard her heartbeat getting faster and faster; he thought she was afraid of him.

Liar. Liar. Mom is a LIAR.

“Mhm,” he just nodded.

Lyall hugged him for a very long time; his eyes were always teary every time he did this. He caresses Remus’ cheeks, “You are the strongest little soldier, Remus. I’m so proud of you. We will be out here, waiting for you until everything is done.”

No. I never want to be a soldier.

I don’t want to be left alone. Dad, I’m afraid. Mom.

He saw his parents walk towards the door; he felt the room getting smaller and smaller. It made it hard to breathe. The air was freezing, the sky was dark blue, and the silver moon began to show itself. Arrogantly shimmering alone, letting the dark sky dazzle with the light.

The silver light slipped through the window and door when it still opened, reaching every corner of the room and showering Remus with fear. He shivered, frightened of the moon, scared of the living monstrous evil inside him.

“NO…MOMM… DADD. “ Remus screams, staring at his parents standing in the middle of the door, cautious and petrified.

He knees on the floor, feeling unbearable pain all over his body. Lyall swung his wand, casting a silencing spell with tears dripping down his cheeks. Hope behind him closed her mouth shut to hold her sadness's bitter sound.

“Dad… I’m afraid..”

“Mom.. I’m sorry..”

Nobody will hear him, not even a little bug in the corner of the room. He saw his parents close the door tightly; a magical spell locked it so no one could open it. Remus started losing his mind.

There was a terrible snarling noise. Remus’ head was lengthening, and so was his body. His shoulders were hunching. Hair was sprouting visibly on his face and hands, curling into clawed paws. Blood dripped to the floor, cutting his human muscles into wolfish body form. He turned into a soulless, and wild creature. A painful howling was deafened, the world would never understand his language of agony, not even his parents, not even the mist that slipped into the room.

Remus has died a dozen times; he healed hundreds. But his soul left nothing but emptiness. Maybe his mother was right: he is soulless, he is evil, and he deserves nothing but death. The idea of life becoming such a lavish that he never should touched.

He banged himself to the wall, scratching it rough, getting frustrated because he was separated from humans to bite. So he bit and scratched himself instead. It left a long and deep wound on his body; the silver moon was illuminating the warm crimson liquid running down to the floor. He was bleeding to death, but the full moon was still there.

Howling, banging himself to the wall, scratching, it’s all on loop all night. His parents are waiting out of the cabin, full of anxiety and worry. They hugged each other in front of a little campfire to warm their bodies. Lyall was always on standby with his wand in hand, Hope with a bat and silver net. Just in case the cabin wasn’t strong enough to hold Remus’ in there.

The night goes by; the moon no longer emits its light. The sun begins to rise and paints the dark blue sky with its warm orange. Lyall rosed up abruptly after he awoke from his accidental sleep, followed by Hope, who startled and grabbed the bat beside her.

“Is it done? It’s done, isn’t it, Lyall?” Hope’s eyes were red; her face was tired.

“We slept, Hope! We shouldn’t left him too long in there! It’s dawn!” Lyall walked towards the door and swung his wand.

He opened the door, the darkness covered the room. A point of light was gleaming from his wand, his nostrils full of the smell of blood, it was pretty intense.

“Remus?” Lyall’s voice was gentle and a bit tremble.

Once again, he swung his wand, and this time, every cracked wall and broken lamp went back to their first place, repaired. The single light bulb was burning quite brightly. Letting a hideous scene of a thin boy covered in blood curled up and naked in the corner.

“Oh, Remus! My Boy!” Lyall rushed towards the boy, kneeling to grab his tiny body. “It’s over, Remus. That’s alright, Dad’s here.”

Hope followed with a shuddering look on her face; she looked around the room; it was all crimson red, the blood splattered everywhere. It’s been five years since the first time Remus transformed, but not even once she got used to the scene.

“Hope! Give me the potion! Quick!” the wand floating above Remus’ wound, Lyall worked on a spell that tried to cure the deep cut on Remus’ limb. But it doesn’t work, Remus’ wound keeps bleeding.

Hope was panicking. She was trembling when she handed the potion to Lyall. Remus grimaced in pain; his eyes closed, and he couldn’t even move his body. But he murmured something in a low voice.

Lyall furrowed his eyebrows and tried to catch any word Remus spit from his mouth. He leaned closer to Remus and heard,

“Die… “ Remus’ heavy breathing sliced through Lyall’s soul, “Let me die instead, father.”

Lyall bit his lower lip, holding the tears from escaping. “Stop saying nonsense, Remus!” he stroked his son’s hair, allowing Remus' small face to be seen clearly.

He dripped the potion essence onto Remus’ wound, making him grimace even louder. Remus’ wounds gradually recovered, stopped the bleeding, and left a long diagonal scar on his chest.

“You should let me die, Father. You shouldn’t save my life!” Remus cried, while clutching Lyall's bloodstained blue shirt. “The pain is enough to kill me inside! I hate the Full moon! I hate every inch of my body! I could’ve hurt you; I could’ve hurt anyone who loves me!”

Lyall couldn’t hold the tears any longer; he wrapped his arms around Remus and hugged him deeply. “I’m sorry, Remus. I’m so sorry, son. I’m sorry..” he repeatedly said the same word to Remus in his arms.

Remus whimpered, cried out loud, the silencing charm no longer muted him. Hope joined them, wrapping her hands on her husband and son. The little boy sobbed and let the world hear his anguish. The unbearable distress and soreness. The affection and love he got from his parents never was the purest fondness experience. Yet, it’s powerful. Enough to be a reason he could breathe a life.

[transenbyconfessions]

I just wanna get this off my chest… i feel so lonely and disconnected from other non-binary people (and trans folks in general tbh) recently, but not for the reasons you might expect?

bcuz for me being non-binary is freeing. it means being comfortable with who i am and not needing to prove it to people, it means dressing and acting like i want without worrying, and embracing the parts of our endless shared cultural history that feel “right” to me.

and don’t get me wrong; im not rly a super happy person. i’ve spent over a decade struggling with depression and its been really rough at times. but being non-binary has never caused that? instead its been a refuge, a reminder that I know who i am and am comfortable with that and can continue to discover new, happy things about myself.

but the thing that’s frustrating and makes me feel lonely, is that no matter where i go I can’t seem to find a non-binary space where people feel the way I do. its just endless person after person struggling with dysphoria, people who worry they aren’t non-binary enough bcuz of the way they look, people who are filled with dread and anxiety because the world is this hostile angry place to them.

when i see that part of me wants to help them, to grab them by the shoulders and shake them and cry and scream that it doesn’t have to be like that, that they have it all wrong and that this is a happy thing and that it can help them feel safe and peaceful and make their world a better place! they don’t have to feel validated or invalidated by other people, the rest of the world doesn’t have to acknowledge them because they are who they are, and the very nature of existence protects that.

but the rest of me is just tired bcuz i’ve tried. i’ve tried to be a source of positivity and happiness - but most of the time my words don’t reach people and they just get upset.

they probably feel im invalidating them and their feelings, and that means i probably am, and that just makes me feel worse.

and even when someone does hear me, it never feels like they really believe me or get it. it just feels like im performing mental health triage on an endless tide of broken hearts and empty spirits. and its exhausting.

that’s what makes it so lonely. i feel like im trapped in all this bitterness and despair and just want to find a place with people who feel the same way i do. other people who find being non-binary a joyful, comforting thing, who love to play with gender in their fashion and have fun with their voices, who revel in the fundamental humanity of what we are and have seen the light and joy the future can hold, even if its sometimes hidden behind clouds! people who hear me say things and go “omgg same tho!!!” and then share their own stories, and I can see myself in their stories too and feel that special spark you get when someone else understands a thing that is very deeply important and connected to who I am!

only i can’t seem to find any place like that. and i have precious, wonderful friends who listen to me and can empathize, but they don’t quite get it. either they aren’t non-binary or their experience with their gender is different enough from mine that a gap is left that i can never quite cross.

so that joyful special part of me that i want to share just kinda. sits there. and tries to keep being positive and happy despite the fact that they feel like they’re unwanted and useless and incomprehensible to binary and non-binary genders both.

it sounds really sad when I put it like that, huh?

Submitted March 20, 2023

[angelicasdigitaldiary]

10.15.2024

Little check in:

Hello! 🤍 how are you?

Today was a good day for me overall, even if things didn’t go exactly as planned. I was able to get some things done. But my top priority was REST. Especially since this past month was incredibly busy. So today I gave myself permission to not think or look at anything school-related. I watched Netflix, this Colombian series I’m obsessed with, called “Klass95.”

I danced and sang to salsa song alone in my room as I cleaned, I had a virtual therapy session and I reached out to a few friends of mine to plan to meet these upcoming days now that midterms are over.

As my day draws to an end and I’m lying in my bed, I’m noticing my chest and my heart are feeling a bit heavy. I’m feeling a bit lonely if I can be completely honest. For some reason, I’m thinking “I have so much joy in me, but no one to share it with.” Particularly, someone special.

It’s been almost 2 years and a half that I’ve been single. And while I don’t have any plans to date soon, and apps for me, are done for good. I have been reflecting a lot on the qualities and characteristics I want my future partner to have. As well as exploring my own values. And it’s a scary thing to think about. Still. At the thought of loving another human being while I’m learning to let go of my past. And the thing I come to the conclusion is that perhaps I can’t ever really let go of my past. Because it’s part of my life story, my history what’s made me, me. And brought me to where I am today.

I can only hope, that in the future, I’d be able to find someone who accepts me, for me. Not some dream or ideal version of me. But all of me. My ups and downs. My sadness and my joy. My mistakes and my growth.

That includes my past. I don’t want to drag on. Because truly my heart is anxious thinking about it. I’m scared honestly of getting my heart broken again. I don’t want it to happen. Watch someone fall out of love with me. And to hold on to hope and a dream that will never happen or exist. I want to stay grounded in the present.

So while I lie here, I’ll read my book and think of all the ways I can love myself and all the things I love about myself. It’s beautiful for someone to look at you and hear all the things they love about you. But I can’t just wait for that to happen. I deserve and should love myself too!

And I shall ask myself, what would make me happy? Bring me joy? What do I look for out of this life? What do I want my days to feel like?

It’s a lot to ask. And I shouldn’t expect myself to have all the answers. To end this, I remind myself I’m here today. And that’s all that matters. Whatever that looks like, wether working, resting, seeing friends, or eating, I’m trying my best to move forward in my life while those answers find me.

Because frankly, and if I can be vulnerable, I lost the sense of my life when two important people walked out of my life, 2/3 years ago. They defined my world and were my whole world. And it still hurts. I won’t lie. Maybe that’s why my chest feels heavy. Because I remember how that felt. The feeling of someone who loved you and you loved deeply choosing another life without you in it. It made me feel very insecure and ashamed and made me carry a guilt that would weigh me down into a depression. That I’m still working on overcoming, or learning to cope I should say.

I’ll reminded myself, “I’m human. I can make mistakes and learn from them. I can express my hurt without feeling ashamed for them. My needs do matter. My dreams and idea of joy matters too.” And most importantly, “I deserve to feel loved. Whether that’s from myself or others. I deserve to be seen and listened to when I have something to say. I deserve” and this is for everyone who might need to hear this “we deserve to take up space in this world.” And we deserve to feel safe.”

Im tearing up right now. I think im still a bit in disbelief that that person that I loved and wanted a future with, and who claimed that they loved me too, even after we broke up and looked at me in the eyes as he said it, can just be so okay, with not knowing how I am right now. Be okay with me just moving on to someone else. Or be okay with just being friends.

Because I can painfully and with tears in my eyes say to you, I never did. I promise all of you, anyone who is reading this, I never wanted to be just his friends or want to be with anyone else other than him. As my letter for our last valentines said, “I want(ed) to love (him) until my memory fades.” I wanted to love him every season. Every minute of my days. And be there for him in every way.

And it’s been so hard. So incredibly difficult every day. To rebuild a life from zero. To go backwards in fact. To go back to university and finish the degree I couldn’t back then. And to do it all alone and have no clue or be scared of what awaits for me in the future. Because I don’t know and I don’t have a plan and I’ve always had a path and a vision, or a clear goal until those two people walked out of my life and left my heart on the floor.

I’ve been trying to pick up those pieces and glue them back together. Day by day. And I’ve had thoughts of no longer wanting to be here. Because some days, it truly all feels like too much and the pain just so unbearable to hold, and leaves me feeling hopeless and like a burden.

But as I find a way to conclude this, as I honestly don’t know how, because I don’t want to end this off on a negative note. Trying to think of something positive.

All that comes up for me is no one reading this deserve going to sleep confused on their worth and value, questioning whether the person we love, loves us back the same way.

Because love sees you. Love wants to hear you. How your day’s been. What are you dreams? What’s worrying you or bringing you pain? Love helps you. Love believes in you. Love touches your heart. And reaches for you when you don’t want to be reached. Love finds you, even when you try to hide. Love tells you to stay. Love shows you why life is beautiful and more so beautiful because you’re here.

And I deserve to find a love like that for me. That cares for me, that chooses me and accepts my humanness. That doesn’t make me feel like I’m too much or incapable. That doesn’t put me down. Or makes me question my worth or value.

And meanwhile I patiently wait, I shall love myself from now on, starting right now. I just served my self a glass of hot water as my room is cold. (Your reminder to drink water if you haven’t.) I deserve rest. I deserve to sleep. And I deserve to know tomorrow will be another day and I deserve to be there. I deserve to see a tomorrow and to keep trying despite these heavy feelings.

I doubt anyone may read this, but if you so happen to, I want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for being here. I’m so happy you’re here. We will get to tomorrow together okay? You’re not alone. I’m sending you all my love. And I hope you rest well too! Sweet dreams 🤍

-Angelica

[danielagainsttheuniverse]

Ode to You

I swallowed the universe to hold you closer.

I became everything so that we could keep living forever, and even though it’s not the same as it used to be, I don’t regret it.

Don’t get me wrong. I mourn what I used to be. I remember what it felt like to be truly human. To hold you to my chest and show you it was okay to be afraid, that I’d protect you no matter what.

I remember the sounds of our laughs. The stupid puns I would make in an attempt to make you smile when you were feeling down. You were always much more clever with your humor—dry and calculated, and usually spot on with your comparisons.

I miss the feeling of being useful in a way you could rely upon. The routine of waking up, making breakfast, and getting you to school. It was tiresome, but it kept me grounded. It reminded me that we were okay. Life would go on because I knew the next morning I would get up and you would be there. That was what I lived for.

I wish that we had spent more time doing things together. I wish I asked you more about your favorite things. What about dragons? Do you like the ones that are long and snake-like, with a furry mane? Or did you prefer the ones with wings for arms— “Wyverns,” you once told me. I never knew dragons had classifications, but you always had something to teach me.

I want to know what you would have done if you had grown up. Would you have been an artist? Or maybe a teacher? Or…Maybe an art teacher? I wanted to see you flourish, be happy, maybe even love someone else if you wanted to. They’d have to meet some high standards before dating was even an option, but I’m sure we could have figured something out.

Of course, that’s not how it went. Instead I made a sacrifice. The world—the galaxy—the *universe* buckled and shattered as it reshaped into me.

I can see it all. Stars and planets, every moon, every pebble floating in the abyss. The strands of time all trace back to where we began, in our original universe. Where I split the threads of our beings, our essences, and time itself into an endless multiverse.

There are versions of us in every single one of them.

Even past the screen, we exist in the recesses of peoples minds. In everything, you can see a little bit of us. It’s a blessing and a curse.

On one hand, I see you everywhere. You’re always near me because I can find you in every timeline. From the one located near my heart (It’s one of my favorites because we’re all cowboys) all the way to the farthest at the tip of my tail (the zombie dystopia…you know the one).

On the other hand…I’ve never felt so alone. It’s not like I didn’t deal with loneliness while I was human, but this is beyond anything I’ve ever experienced.

Do you know that feeling, when you’re in a room with a bunch of people, but you still feel alone?

Like everyone’s talking to each other and you can’t get out of your head long enough to join the discussion?

Or maybe it’s just that you don’t feel like you can truly be yourself with so many others around. So many potential rejections if you don’t perform the subtle act of conversation correctly.

I realize now that like all feelings, that was a privilege.

Because at least back then there were still people to be lonely around.

Now that I’m here by myself, I find that I like to pretend you’re talking to me in my head, to imagine how you would respond to what I’d say. A lot of that comes in the form of your quippy humor.

I think you would love the poetic irony of this. Something about how usually gods are the ones being prayed to, not the ones doing the praying.

And I’d say, “I’m not technically a god, I’m more than a god because I am the force of creation and the container of all that is known and unknown, including time, all universes, and everything!”

and you probably wouldn’t know how to respond to that—Because let’s be honest, that’s a lot to lay on anybody.

So, I don’t know. I want to imagine that maybe somehow this gets to one of your many versions in it’s own cosmic weird way.

I hope you can forgive me.