#melancolic girl

[distraughtfemme]

[jldiazgranados]

[rat-rosemary]

.

[evlyda]

Making of dead skull angel/evil with black wings -Lerla izlale

[bear-remn]

—Deadly eyes concept art v1 ₊ ⊹

Hi! I have been working on my content since i been very inspired and i already have art of my oc's in addition to the dibaboys' opinions about my girls! this is volume 1!

—KIRARI MASAMI ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧

—diaboy´s thoughts on kirari ୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

—shuu:

·:¨༺ while kirari was on drugs ༻¨:·

"such a weird woman, walking like a ghost and bothering me while a sleep.."

"terrible smell, i´d kill her if i could but its such a bother.."

"dont really care, not my problem.."

·:¨༺ when kirari recovers ༻¨:·

"a lewd woman, not good with words but her eyes and expresions tell me everything i need to know.."

"a little anoying, but i dont want her to stop anoying me.."

"kinda funny and mean when it comes to people she dosent like, basically hot.."

—reiji:

·:¨༺ while kirari was on drugs ༻¨:·

"bad blood and bad manners, such a case.."

"doesnt talk much, but when she open her mouth she only say´s strange thing´s.."

"why would that person send her if her blood is´nt good quality? and as a sacrificial bride?.."

·:¨༺ when kirari recovers ༻¨:·

"such a needy human, wanting me to hold her while she sleep... "

"even if she is´nt a worthy woman for me, in some ways she turn to be... what i never thought i´d crave..."

"maybe she is not teh worthy woman i always picture, but is enough to be by my side, taking my father´s place with her by my side.."

—ayato:

·:¨༺ while kirari was on drugs ༻¨:·

"yours truly doesnt care for a bad blooded woman.."

"ok? and?.."

"if i ignore her then she isnt here..."

·:¨༺ when kirari recovers ༻¨:·

"her blood is ok? but not really yours truly favorite.."

"she thinks is so cool just because she plays basketball and do boxing, she looks rediculous..."

"It's a little outrageous that Mako prefers the company of that woman intead of my company, yours truly is too good for her anyways.."

—kanato:

·:¨༺ while kirari was on drugs ༻¨:·

"who?..."

"such an unpleasant woman, teddy and i couldnt stand being around her.."

"the only good thing about that disgusthing woman are those eyes of her, shiny and clear... i dont have that kind of eyes in my collection hehe.."

·:¨༺ when kirari recovers ༻¨:·

"still, the only good thing are those eyes, her blood is too thick, not really my taste.."

"she spend too much time with reiji, i hope that when she dies, reiji let´s me take her eyes hehe.."

"she is´nt as anoying as i thought, rather quiet.."

—laito:

·:¨༺ while kirari was on drugs ༻¨:·

"she acts like an abandoned cat, trying to isolate herself from others and acting tough, but cying in silence at nigth.."

"the messier the better.."

"sadly, her blood is terrible and her attitude is boring, what a same.."

·:¨༺ when kirari recovers ༻¨:·

"reiji make her what she is now but, its odd that now they arent as close as before, funny right?.."

"i see her, how the others watch her as if we dont realize, they will not take her as they please, not that i care, but my big bro does.."

"kirari-chan doesnt make cutes faces as my pretty mako-chan, but i enjoy dessert.."

—subaru:

·:¨༺ while kirari was on drugs ༻¨:·

"the stink its unbreathable, her presence its disgusthing, she is disgusthing.."

"humans are so dumb, so sad and melancolic for no reason.."

"i dont care if she dies, as long as she doesnt make a mess.."

·:¨༺ when kirari recovers ༻¨:·

"she become emotionally dependent of shu and reiji, but none of them seems to be interested in what she really is.."

"she often hides in the plants but in silence, i appreciate the silence.."

"she doesnt try to kill herself anymore.."

.・。.・゜✭ bonus ✭・゜・。.・

—kirari

·:¨༺ while kirari was on drugs ༻¨:·

about shu

"fucking arrogant bitch, hope he choke´s on his own saliva.."

about reiji

"cool, control maniac but kinda cool? acts like a father and speaks funny.."

about ayato

"think he is a big deal but really is just a spoiled brat with a pretty face.."

about kanato

"please never touch me.."

about laito

"fucking weirdo, a little hot without the hat but too scary, he appears out of nowhere everytime and looks like he knows things, dark things.."

about subaru

"pretty boy but those anger issues, idk, too much anger inside one person.."

kirari opinion of the diaboys when she recovers its a secret hehe :p

.・。.・゜✭ ty! ✭・゜・。.・

hope you guys like it! mako comes in the next concep art volume post! if you have any suggestion tell me! i´d appreciate it!

btw the cover was inspired on @ausd art, go check her work it´s precious!

[french-unknown]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝟕𝟓𝐭𝐡 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 (𝟐) | 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫

finnick odair x fem!reader

summary: As a Victor from District 11, (Y/N) was close to the Victor of District 4 but the 75th Hunger Games turned everything upside down.

warning: prostitution, death mentions

word count: 2.3k +

author's note: Hi! English isn't my native language and, even if I can read English text, I have practically never written in this language. So you will be my English practice lesson! Be indulgent, thanks ~

[ masterlist ] - [ previous chapter ] - [ next chapter ]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐 | 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝟕𝟒𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

A deep rumble resonant into the valley was reverberated while amplificating between the mountains. Paniqued, (Y/N) raised her head to look at where this sound was coming from. And there, right from the north, she saw a huge wave of fifty feet surge toward her.

Suddenly, everything turned black and the girl woke up with a jolt into the darkness of the night. The moon was the only source of light to lighten up the sweat perling on her trembling arms and, above all, the tears that were maculating her cheeks. Her saccadic breath was going at the same speed as her fast-paced heartbeats. A knot in her throat left her incapable of breathing correctly while she was still feeling the sensation of the water on her skin.

Yet, little by little, she gained back control of her respiration and then her body. When she finally stopped crying and trembling, she sighed.

She was in Victors' Village in District 11. She wasn’t in the arena anymore.

Exhasted by her nightmare, she stood up on her still-unsure legs and went out of her bedroom to search for some water in the kitchen. But she found her father in the living room while she crossed the house. He was there, sitting in the dark, absent-minded.

"Dad?" she asked.

As if he were reconnected with reality, he turned his face toward her and made a melancolic smile.

"Why are you still up at this hour?" he asked too.

"I can say the same," she responded. "You worked a lot of hours the last few days, you should sleep a little more."

"It’s Reaping today," he sadly explained. "Some feelings never disappear, you know."

Forgetting her glass of water, (Y/N) climbed on the sofa and simply placed her head on his shoulder. She knew that no word in the world could make her father feel better so she preferred to believe that an act was worth a thousand words.

They stayed that way until the morning came.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿

Standing on a platform on the District 11 main plaza, a wave of stress beached in her belly.

She logically knew that, pretty in her black dress and as a former Victor, she didn’t have any risk of hearing her name today but her father was right: some traumas are graved in the flesh. Besides, even if she is not the one who will be leaving, two other families will be destroyed in the next hour.

The sight of the crowd in front of her just kept that aweful feeling getting bigger and the other Victors', Seeder and Chaff, presence at her side didn’t change anything.

However, it didn’t stop the ceremony from beginning.

The same promotional clip was projected on the big screen as every years then the strange creature who will be the escort this year went to the urn for female tribute. She chose a paper.

"Rue Montgomery," she announced with a smile.

The mob separated to make way for one of the lost girls in the first ranks. But (Y/N) could only see the scandalized looks on her parents faces at the back.

Rue’s parents and hers had been friends since childhood. In consequence of this, she always knew the girl even if they weren’t close due to their age gap. She couldn’t even eye the brown-frizzy-haired girl while she went closer to the stage under the escort's concerned eyes.

"Any volunteers?" she asked with some kind of diluted hope.

But only the sound of the wind responded.

So she turned to the male urne and pulled another piece of paper with the nametag of a young, strong and robust boy who climbed the stairs before both of them were separated into a room to say goodbye to their families.

The crowd dispersed and the Victors moved toward the car that would bring them to the train.

Still (Y/N) intercepted Seeder on her way before she went up in the car and guided her to a more quiet place away from unwanted looks.

"Please, take care of her!" she immediately begged the woman who has been her mentor at her own Games.

"It’s also your job," she responded.

"But I know her!" added the (H/C)-hair. "I can't even look straight at her because we both know she’ll be dead soon. She doesn’t have a chance! Please."

After a silence, Seeder nodded and the younger felt a little bit relieved.

This feeling didn’t stay for long since she was intercepted a few feet away by two adults that she instantly recognized as Rue’s parents. They pleaded with her to help their loved daughter, to prepare her and to bring her back home. They desperately cried all the tears from their bodies.

(Y/N) couldn't expose them to the cruel reality.

A 12-year-old child from District 11 will never be strong enough to survive several bloodthirsty teens from Career Districts. She will never be an interesting ally who will be protected by another district's tribute. She will never be considered entertaining enough to receive gifts from sponsors.

In the best case possible, she will die without too much pain or fear on the first day.

She was saved by the Peacekeepers who pushed her into the car before the tribute’s parents could finish their beseechings.

On the train, she closed herself in her cabin during the entire journey.

At the moment she arrived at the Capitol, she left her possessions at the Tribute’s Village and immediately rushed to the 7th floor. She jumped on Johanna and started to blather about her problems when they arrived in the brown-haired girl’s room. Even if she winced several times, the District 7 Victor let her speak without interrupting. Once she finished, she could get her temper back. She thanked her friend and agreed to let her unpack peacefully.

But when she came back to her floor, she saw an envelope with her name handwritten on it on her doorstep.

Accompanied by a white rose, she didn’t need a drawing when Lucretia, her stylist, arrived with a wonderful white corseted dress in one hand and makeup in the other. She chatted about a meeting between potential sponsors to which (Y/N) was invited.

So it was with a man that she arrived at the Tribute’s Parade. After a complete afternoon of hearing conversations about the Hunger Games: how much they were excited, rumors about the still unknown arena, or how tributes seemed promising this year.

She wanted to vomit.

However, she kept her smile on and stayed as entertaining as she could. She knew what would happen if she didn’t.

On the stands, she noticed some familiar faces. Jonhana, who already appeared irritated. Seeder and Chaff were discussing a few ranks behind an unusually interested Haymitch. Career Victors were meeting together and laughing not so far away.

But it was another person who caught her attention.

Effectively, Finnick Odair was proudly standing there with a woman too much makeuped for her age. Too much makeup in general, actually. He looked convincing as he seduced her with his overly smooth smile and whispered sweet words into her ear. She giggled and hit his chest while he continued to charm her.

And, as if he felt the insistent pair of eyes, he looked around him and perceived (Y/N).

Sadly, before anyone could make a move, the man who was accompanying the District 11 girl put his hand on her hip and used it to bring her closer to him. He placed his lips near her ear.

"It’s better if you don’t get sick tonight," he murmured.

(Y/N) felt a first thrill of disgust go through her spine when his breath brushed her ear. A second one followed right after she understood what he said. But, far from being discouraged, the man took this reaction for something else and smirked with satisfaction before reporting his attention to the circuit where Tributes will parade at any moment.

When she wanted to find the blond-haired guy with green eyes again, she found him at the same place, with the same person, in the same position.

But his gaze wasn’t playful anymore. It was just unreadable.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿

Throughout the duration of the Games, (Y/N) avoided as best she could the room where the citizens and sponsors were viewing the Games. Only, it didn’t prevent her from knowing about Rue’s death in the arena.

The news spread to her through a knock at the District 11 floor door.

She knew Johanna didn’t watch the Games anymore this year since her two tributes passed away. By the way, she thanks her for the bottle of alcohol she brought this night and which made both of them forget the horrifying atmosphere around them. She didn’t come back home after that, so they still met a few times to chat and drink together.

But it wasn’t the explosive-tempered girl behind the door.

She was face-to-face with Finnick Odair.

"Hi Honey," he started with his well-practiced smile. "Will you let me in?"

Already kind of annoyed by his over-smarmy character, she went out of the way and he didn’t wait a second before stepping inside.

As soon as the door was closed, District 4 Victor’s aura changed: his shoulders stooped, his chin lost a little bit of his height and, mainly, his abominable superficial smirk wore off from his lips.

"So, do you hold up?" he softly asked.

(Y/N) only shrugged her shoulders. She didn’t really know how to respond without ending in an unterminable monologue.

"What about you?" She tiredly answered. "And Mags?"

A grim laugh passed the barriers of his lips.

"Both are already dead."

"Bloodbath?" she continued, sluggish.

"For him, yeah," he somberly declared.

"We can say that it was effective this year," she laughed without humor. Some memories surged into her mind even if it was mostly the sound of the weapons clashing against each other as well as the surprised or painful screams of kids.

"Not yours," affirmed Finnick, bringing her back from her memories. "You would have known if you've been there."

The girl sighed then went to the bar of the floor with the purpose of resting her back against the counter.

"Don't tell me you came here just to say that." She began to get angry.

"It’s your job to support them in the arena, you’re their mentor. You’ve no choice," he reminded her. "Even if it’s become personal."

The District 11 Victor felt a thunder of irritation pass through her mind.

"Johanna?" she wanted to know.

"I know all that she knows as much as she knows all that you know, and you also know all that I know," he claims. "It will made 3 years, still surprised?"

(Y/N) slid the length of the counter until her butt touched the ground and she could feel her knees pressing against her chest. She wound her arms around her legs and couldn't help but feel hurt.

"No, but you know how much I love when people talk about me behind my back." she bitterly retorted.

Finnick moved and took a seat next to her.

"We’re just worried about you." he explained while raising his streched arms on his bended knees.

However, his sleeves rolled up and exposed the rednesses snaking on his forearms and wrists. Alarmed, (Y/N) straightened to take an arm closer to her eyes. But she couldn’t do anything when the blond-haired guy resumed it before rolling down his sleeves again.

"What happened?" She confusedly asked even if she thought she had already gotten the answer.

"Cliente."

A deep sadness lumped her throat. Her eyes started to get watery when Finnick grabbed her hand and brought her back to him. With her back against him, he slipped his arm around her shoulders.

Wedged in the hollow between his arm and his chest, she relaxed herself to try to profit from the heat coming from his body. She let herself imagine the sea smell which normally perfumed his skin but was covered by one of the Capitol's strong fragrances. Her head fell back to be placed next to his neck.

"Sorry to announce this to you like that, but your girl passed away earlier." he declared as softly as he could.

The (H/C)-haired girl immediately frozen before relaxing as fast.

"Did she suffer?"

He tightened his embrace and a weight was settled on the top of her skull while one of his tuft of hair went twirling around her temple.

"No, the District 12 Tribute took good care of her," he said. "She left in peace."

"For Hunger Games." she moaned. "It will never stop…"

Fiinick's free hand on her side got closer to hers. Without moving, she accepted it when he entwined their fingers together.

"As long as we stay together, everything is going to be okay." he declared. "Everything is going to be fine."

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿

Several days later, when the Hunger Games were won by the pseudo-couple of District 12, (Y/N) came back home. At the moment her foot touched the ground, she was instantly accosted by her mother and her older brother.

The first one had a terrible expression on her puffy face with her little red eyes and her hair all around her in this kind of nest of knots from which some hair strands escaped around her face. Besides, even if her clothes were clean, lots of folding marked her outfit and made her look messy. Her brother at her mother’s side didn’t seem better.

Getting an eye around her, she finally noticed the unusual number of Peacekeepers in the streets.

Her way back to Victors' Villange was spent in heavy silence and there, behind the closed doors of her house, she discovered the dreadful news. After Rue’s death, riots began in the entire district, but they were immediately contained and the instigators were publicly executed.

Among them were Rue’s father and her own.

[pumpkinspice-tanuki]

name: yoru

age: 16(February 24)

gender: female

sexuality: bisexual

personality: yoru is a young girl . she used to be melancolic. 2 years later thanks to nocturnes pirates she warmed up. yoru had to face loneliness since she was little but she became less lonely while she was adopted by plum

relationships:

gecko moria: biologic father

snake kimera: biologic mother(deceased)

perona: adopted sister

plum: captain\adopted mother

seed: crewmate

pastrami: crewmate

lamp: crewmate

sannah: crewmate

mochi: friend

trivia:

yoru is spainish

yoru's favorite food are omelets

yoru's least favorite food are coffee(too bitter)

if yoru was a animal she would be a gecko and\or a platypus

[quincyhorst]

RonLau.............................

I've already talked about Ladji and Émile, I'd also like to talk about other of my favorite RG duos: Ronnie and Laurent. So here's something from back in March.

This is pretty much a story of how they became at least a bit aware about each other, but hadn't met properly yet. Obviously pre-FFI.

Ronnie Weiss became a supermodel years ago, as winning a local beauty contest gained the attention of an agent who saw potential on him. When given a chance to escape a supposedly "boring" life in his rural hometown, he accepted the offer straight away. Modelling life isn't easy, but it was good enough for him. Better than "rotting on the countryside", he would say.

That day, Weiss was being transported to his next modelling job, a photo shoot for the well known magazine Cerise. Being a common reader in the past, he was quite excited yet also nervous about it. Something he wasn't proud of showing.

Suddenly, the car had to stop like the red light ordered; which led to Ronnie having some time to see the streets of Paris; and the so-called commoners's "uninteresting lives". Since his transport had stopped right in front of a cafe's terrace, he expected to see the typical customers. But... He saw something entirely different from what he was expecting.

In between the brown tables and the dim colored shop, a beautiful face was sitting calmly. Their skin was almost white like snow, standing out even if it was almost covered by their hair; blonde ash gray, both colors blending together. And even if it looked messy at first glance, it was elegantly tied with a notorious pink ribbon, accidentally making Ronnie believe he was looking at a girl. A mysterious "girl" who had such beautiful, cold blue eyes, showing a melancolic aura as she read a little book.

On the short time the red light stood on, Ronnie stared completely in awe, even begging his driver to pull down the car window as to get a better look. In the few seconds Ronnie was hit with the outside breeze, he tried any way to gain the girl's attention. But like if the god of luck had heard him, suddenly she looked away from her book, and noticed the sudden car window opening nearby. For an instant, she and Ronnie made eye contact, an angelic moment that made the raspberry boy's pale face red.

It didn't last for too long however, as the car continued its movement few seconds later.

As he was being forced apart from his new muse, Ronnie quickly returned to reality, remembering why he was inside a vehicle on the first place. Upon noticing an unusual frown coming from his model, the agent was quick to check on them.

"Sorry. I just saw the most beautiful girl ever! But, I'm not sure I'll see her again..."

"If she's that beautiful, there's a chance. Girls like that get scouted for the industry eventually." After a sudden pause, the man started to realize something. "Wait a minute, you saw her in a cafe terrace, right?"

"...Yes?"

"...And she had... White skin and almost blonde hair? With a pink ribbon?"

"Ye- Wait, you recognize her!?"

"...Well, haha... I think who you saw was actually Little Laurent. He's the son of one of Cerise's editors. Easy to mistake for a girl, isn't he?"

Ronnie took a breath trying to process all the sudden new information. That beauty was actually a boy... Well, not much of a surprise. If he himself had been born with a pretty face, who knows whose other boys could have been as lucky as him. In fact, he had already saw some around, but always as rivals on the modelling industry. He could easily do the same with Laurent, specially knowing his connections, but...

"No, he isn't a model at all." His agent clarified "Believe it or not, before finding you it was him who I wanted to represent. But he refused my offer, and I didn't felt like insisting. A shame, really. To this day, his mother tells me over how much of a beautiful model he could be."

...With no reason to consider Laurent yet another rival of his, Ronnie gave a sigh of relief. There was no way he even wanted to see him with any ounce of resentment! Although, it was weird to know he could have been on his place instead.

"If he's related to Cerise Magazine, well... Is there any way I could see him better in person?"

His agent chuckled upon the question, leaving the model confused.

"...Not sure, sorry. But it is told he likes to spend his free days on cafes, just like what you saw. Maybe if we catch a break, you could give him a surprise visit."

Ronnie's eyes lit up, making him give a smile of excitement.

"...But the agenda's tight, Weiss. There's so much you still have to do first."

As his smile fading again, soon Ronnie returned to observe the streets of Paris again; not wanting to encounter any other beautiful person like he had done recently.

The memories of his brief encounter with Laurent still clung on for the day, and they persisted on his memory. Deep down, he constantly wished to meet that stunning face up close, no matter if they were both boys. But as Ronnie's various jobs continued and the routine became stricter, soon it became less and less important to him...

And then the FFI happened, and Ronnie had his proper bisexual awakening (?????

[thebittervampire]

Maybe I’m going to do something really stupid, but some things are getting on my nerves. 🙃

I’m single for almost two years, and since this Autumn, since I’ve started getting out again, I keep getting it on by weird dudes.

There’s that first guy, really nice by the way, I’ve met one evening in October and he asked me for a date in a forest two days later. Man. In a forest. I read enough newspapers to know what could happen to me. (don’t go in a forest with someone you just met, for real. No matter their gender or what, just don’t.)

There’s another guy I’ve met in January during a RPG event in a bar. He was just adorable: I drove him back home (I do that with a lot of people: I don’t want them to walk home alone at night) and we chatted a lot. Buuut he ruined everything three days later, when he wrote me a poem to (I quote) ‘express what’s going on in his sould, body and mind, because he doesn’t know who is he and has so many questions in his head about life’, and I had to read it on some melancolic music. Dude. I know you for three. f***. days.

Since this Summer, I know a really cool game bar in town, and every Tuesday, it’s ‘come and play with strangers’ (it’s pretty cool when none of your friends is in the mood to play: you come and take a sit at some table and play, if you’re shy, the awesome staff helps you, plus the place is stunning, I might post some photos one day), and one of the members of the RPG association I’ve joined missed his birthday on February 11th, so I suggested him to come and play to cheer him up.

But the next Tuesday was... February 14th! That’s right! And he had booked a table for two, like it was a date (even if I clearly told him ‘I’m going to play next Tuesday, want to join and have a drink?’, and that guy knows this bar, so he knows the Tuesday program of this place). He didn’t even wanted to play so I had to sit here, uncomfortable (while some pals and gals were showing ‘hi Sam! how are you?’ and I was thinking ‘just take me away to a board game, please’)

Two details turned me off during this unwanted date: when I asked him why he was alone on his birthday, he told me all his friends left him ‘why?’, ‘they went to another birthday’, ‘you couldn’t organise two birthday parties the same day?’, ‘no: a birthday is one person’s day, I don’t feel sharing it, it’s supposed to be my day’, uuuuh, you don’t decide your birthday date, in fact... A bit too clingy, I guess? That and his phone lockscreen: an anime girl with a biiig breast. He’s around 40... I don’t mean to judge but... No. Just no.

And the last one is an ex-Marine I know since this Summer: he’s in his 40s and I thought he was more mature.

Guess what? I was wrong! This week-end, there was a gaming festival but he wasn’t sure when he would show up.

I was there on Saturday around 5pm with some friends, but they moved to a table with a game I didn’t want to try, and the ex-Marine texted me ‘I’ll be there after 7pm’, so I told him ‘oh, sorry, it’s too long to wait, I think I’m going home’ (there was a looot of people), ‘just say that you don’t want to see me’, ‘I didn’t say that, I said I wasn’t going to wait 2h in a crowd’, ‘you must be patient for perfection’, ‘perfection isn’t a real thing’, ‘it is: look at me’. That was awkward.

Oh no, let me tell you about that guy I don’t know but he knows some of my friends, and he wanted to see me on that festival, but we missed each other, so during the evening, he texted me ‘I wanted to meet you! I’m always sick when you’re at some event and I can’t see you!’, dude, like it was my fault. 🙃

So I think I’m just going to pretend I’ve a (quite shy) boyfriend, maybe all those weird guys will stop to cling to me, because seriously, I just want to have fun and those guys are ruining it.

They don’t even know how to flirt: they’re awkward and clumsy in the most awful way...

So maybe it’s one stupid tactic. But I might try it, just to have some peace.

[psychoteacup]

our stories 1.1

it was always depression for me, you know. and of course, the good old friend, anxiety. I've heard so many times that maybe I was just destined to be depressed forever and that was okay. spoiler: it wasn't okay. not really. the constant feel of dread and sorrow, the loneliness, the misery, not seeing a way out. never feeling like I was ever going to be good enough, in anything, or ever. it was a dead end. was I destined to be this melancolic crying damsel on a tower forever?

took me thirty years to find a good doctor and terapist who would take a proper look at this. deep down, behind the curtains. don't get me wrong, there's still a lot of shadow and dust there, but the little peak was all they needed to come up with a few theories.

started off with the possibility of bipolarity, and I always had this idea of never being bipolar because I never had mania episodes. you know, the stereotypical mania episodes where your energy makes you unstopable and you're, in fact, for the worse, unstopable, in whatever you put your mind into. the thing is, I didn't know about another type of bd that had hypomania. which meant a smaller and less intense episode of mania, followed by long periods of depression. now that was souding more like me.

we tried a few treatments, it went terribly wrong. somewhere in the middle I stopped handling feelings altogether, which is why I'm on meds that make me, to the most part, a little numb. I still feel all of the sadness and desperation, but compared to what it could be, is tamed.

then talking to a close friend, I was sure about ADHD. of couse, being so low energy, the hyperactivity part was a big no-no. which left me confusing (and it does to this day) as to the possibility that I do, have, in fact ADHD, or maybe just ADD. this right here is a work in progress, an investigation still ongoing.

but ADHD explained more of my limitations, the freezing for years, the non stop thinking, the memory loss, distractability, incapability to have discipline or keep following projects through. it explained more, but not all.

then I came up with a few people talking about autism once, even about a test that was made to identify autism symptons and characteristics on women. see, by this point, I only had misconceptions in my mind about what the media had sold me about what autism was. I had never seen a girl with autism in my life or in any of the media consumed. it was a strange land to dive, and I was scared. I denied the signs, because I didn't know what they meant.

after a few months of chaos in my life, this year I returned to the psychiatrist and we started to investigate on ADHD and autism, where he said that from the first day he wrote a note about me that I might have autism, which I haven't even told him about my researches before. that was a bit of a shock. the ADHD part is still something that we're considering, yet to be defined, I suppose.

then the diagnostics came, and I cried like a baby. out of all of the possibilities I never really believed this one, but the signs were all there. I just masked so perfectly, even to myself, ignoring the consequences of it and just putting on a show the next day, never wondering about the never-ending depression and low energy, or how I was never out of the well.

I don't know how to feel, but someday I might.

I'm still learning, and to be honest, this first few months have been weird. I had resistence from people close to me, decided not to tell my parents about it because I was scared of their reaction and didn't want to make things worse.

but I wanna try.

and now I'm under this grieving process of which I recognize everything that was done to me that was so cruel, and even what I did to myself, always so judgemental and cruel to me, never enough in the eyes of a standard that was not made for me to fit in.

it explains so much. my childhood, my trauma. my fights and battles, my internal war.

it's still ongoing, you know. but so much weight was lifted off of me. something I was just so used to feeling, that almost felt as part of me, another limb, all that guilt and shame. but it's not mine to hold on to anymore.

slowly, i'll be shedding those skins. i'll understand my limits and my strengths. it's surely not gonna be easy, but gives me a little more of hope.

i'm yet to meet me.

[penny-2]

There is something I find strange about myself, in typology I mean. See, I'm IS(T), 6w5 sp/so, 692, Melancolic - Sanguine, rluai and some people type me LII-Ne but I don't really trust it.

So you know, not your classical lovey dovey girl, I'm more of a friendly nerd. But that's like, the stereotype, in fact, I'm laying on the floor, desperate to offer and receive love with someone, I crave it each night and morning. I tell to my friend that I love them, I hug my mom, and I read some romance to try to cope

It don't fucking work :') like at all, I just feel like I have so much love to give, my body is overflowing in the need to cherish someone, I want to be an house wife who make the place perfect each day, with a good meal for my loved one and I! (i'm handicapped, I can't work anyway)

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, why do I have to be so soft and loving in a world so soul crushing.

[call-sign-shark]

Powerful and so beautiful addition to your Heart, Body and Soul's universe, Reb.

You already know my profound love for the scene between Nina and her mother, who is cutting figs for her daughter while talking about the place of women in the Ferrante family... So obviously this very sweet memory made my day. The idea of taking an insignificant detail such as the biscuits and giving it a full-depth meaning is brilliant. So clever I almost squealed while reading THE SUMMARY.

If the biscuits make Tommy's mouth water I can't even imagine how delicious they must be. 🤭 Also this is such a touching and intimate part "And somewhere deep inside of him, he was glad he was getting to slowly unravel her night after night, talk after talk, discovering the hidden parts she seemed to hide from everyone else. It felt like a privilege." There's something undeniably raw, realistic, and comforting in their slow burn. I know we're slowly reaching the end of the quiet phase of the story, but the calmness of their nightly meeting means the world. It's as if everything fades aways, as if everything was fake and the only constant of this reality was them, the tea and the biscuits.

"She wasn’t getting any younger, after all, and the things she once used to do with great ease were turning out to be rather tiring tasks. But at the same time, her heart clenched at the thought that Nina felt so out of place with the girls her age that she preferred to spend her time inside." Can you stop it? How do you make your writing feel so REAL and... Melancolic at the same time? Maybe it's completely personal and I might project a bit too much of myself in her, but wow. It takes my breath away each time. And the tiny details such as the grandmother's wrinkled hands, or her Nina's micro facial expressions are *chief's kiss*. It's fascinating (as well as painful) to see that she has always felt like a misfit. Always been out of place, contrary to the other girls of her age/family. "Because Nina was good, and the world wasn’t kind, and she would find out way too soon." This. This is the core of Nina. I think she experiences every emotions intensely, hence her bluntness and fiery nature. And this is utterly fascinating.

“They say I’m dark and weird,” No, you're the best and most precious little thing ever and I love you so much 🥹

The ending is pure tragic poetry, Reb. I don't even have words for this. "A useless mask, because pretending not to care about anything didn’t make the pain any less real. She had butchered that little girl, and reserved her no mercy. If her grandmother were still there, would she still think she was the sun?" I have to quote the entire passage because phewwww we can feel how heavy everything weights on poor Nina. I sincerely feel for her, no wonder why she's always wary and trying to pass off for an emotionless person. She's trying to protect herself so hard -- I swear if Tommy hurts her.. :')))))

Incredible, as always Reb!! You ain't one of my fave writers for nothing 🖤

Of Biscuits and Memories || Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: During one of their nightly talks, Nina shares with Tommy way more than just biscuits as old memories rise to the surface.

Warnings: mentions of loss of a loved one, no proofreading, English is not my first language.

A/N: written for @look-at-the-soul ‘s grandma’s series. Again, this was such a beautiful way to honour your grandma, and I’m sorry I’m so late🤍

Nina is the OC from my ongoing Tommy Shelby x OC series Heart, Body and Soul. This takes place somewhere between chapter 4 and 5. It can be read as a standalone. It’s also linked to this moodboard and this post.

Word count: 1.1k

Read CH. 6 HERE.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dividers credits

“Here.” A plate full of biscuits was put on the table in front of Tommy with a thud, the inviting smell immediately filling his nostrils. “Try them.”

Tommy’s lips slightly curled up at one corner, and once again he couldn’t resist the temptation to tease her. Putting on his most serious expression, he squinted his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “You’re not trying to poison me, are you?”

In the dim light of the kitchen, a glimpse of mischief shone in Nina’s dark eyes as a grin threatened to make its way on her face. “You weren’t supposed to find out.”

A chuckle escaped Tommy’s lips as he shook his head. They looked delicious, he had to admit. And even though he’d never been a big eater, observing the biscuits he couldn’t help but feel his mouth almost water. Eventually, he grabbed one of the biscuits to take a bite. The pastry easily crunched between his teeth, contrasting with the sweet cherry jam that melted on his tongue. They were delicious. And Nina must’ve noticed the appreciation in his expression, because a smug smile appeared on her face.

“They’re good.”

“It’s my grandma’s recipe. She used to make them all the time, when I was a child,” she explained, her gaze softening at the memory.

When Tommy had met her two weeks prior, Nina hadn’t seemed to him the kind of woman who would make heart-shaped biscuits in her free time. But he had soon realised there were a lot of things he didn’t know about her. And somewhere deep inside of him, he was glad he was getting to slowly unravel her night after night, talk after talk, discovering the hidden parts she seemed to hide from everyone else. It felt like a privilege.

“Tell me about her.”

12 years before

“Can you make them heart-shaped?” the ten-year-old chirped, resting her head on her hands while her legs swung back and forth under the table.

Casting a fake scolding look at her granddaughter, Anna Ferrante poured some flour on the table. “Wouldn’t you rather play with your cousins?”

Nina glanced out of the window, a sad expression crossing her face for a mere second as she watched the other girls chasing each other, their laughter echoing in the big garden. “No,” she shook her head, seemingly recomposing herself. “I’d rather stay with you.”

She brought her gaze back on her grandmother, and observed her wrinkled hands skilfully work the dough. She had always enjoyed watching her cook and bake. There was something hypnotising in the way she added and mixed the ingredients, taking simple elements to give them another shape and create something entirely new. It was as if she was pouring her whole soul into it every time. “Why did you put the flour on the table?” she furrowed her brows.

“So the dough won’t stick to it,” the old woman patiently explained, rolling out the pastry with a rolling pin. “You want to help me?” she asked her granddaughter, handing her a small glass to cut the dough.

Nina’s eyes shone with delight and a big smile lit up her features, showing two dimples at the corner of her lips. Happy to be useful in some way, she quickly grabbed the glass.

“Watch first,” her grandma said before starting to form the first biscuit. “You can use a little spoon to carve a heart inside the dough, after you’ve shaped it. But don’t press too hard,” she instructed, showing her step by step what she was supposed to do. When she was done, she placed the biscuit on a baking pan. “We’ll put the jam when they’re out of the oven, they’re better like that.”

Taking the task seriously, Nina started to carefully shape the biscuits under her grandma’s watchful gaze, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

Anna Ferrante took advantage of her granddaughter’s help to slow down. She wasn’t getting any younger, after all, and the things she once used to do with great ease were turning out to be rather tiring tasks. But at the same time, her heart clenched at the thought that Nina felt so out of place with the girls her age that she preferred to spend her time inside. And although her eyesight had lost its sharpness under the weight of the years, she wasn’t blind. Her blurred pupils could perfectly see how much of an outcast she was in her own family.

She was a special child. She had a sweetness to her, a sensitivity that couldn’t be described as anything else but disarming. And it scared her as just as much as it amazed her. Because Nina was good, and the world wasn’t kind, and she would find out way too soon.

“Maybe when we’re done you can go play with your cousins,” the older woman tried again, not wanting to think that her granddaughter actually wished to be on her own.

“They say I’m dark and weird,” Nina shrugged, as if to shake away those words. But then some emotion crossed her eyes, as if doubt was slowly taking root in her mind, and she stopped what she was doing to look up at her. “Do you think I am?”

Anna Ferrante’s lips curved in a sad smile as she shook her head in negation. But watching her granddaughter’s doubtful expression, she was hit by the awareness that she saw and noticed way more than she let on. Without saying a word, she took a napkin and wiped some flour off the child’s nose. Too sensitive, too smart for her own good.

“You’re not weird. And you’re not dark,” she said, looking right in the little girl’s eyes. “You are the sun, Nina. Don’t forget that.”

“Well, it’s gotten late,” Nina spoke after a moment of silence, looking at the clock on the wall. Until then, she had never talked about her grandmother, the pain of her loss had always been too strong for her to even name her. But it wasn’t pain she had felt, while remembering things she had buried deep inside her mind. It was gratefulness. Because she had known her and loved her, and she had been loved by her. Nothing could take that away from her, not even death.

However, there was another kind of grief that kept on raising to the surface, no matter how hard she tried to push it back down. Sometimes she mourned the little girl she used to be. That little girl was not afraid to wear her heart on her sleeve. She was not afraid to be soft. She did not hide herself behind a mask of indifference. A useless mask, because pretending not to care about anything didn’t make the pain any less real. She had butchered that little girl, and reserved her no mercy.

If her grandmother were still there, would she still think she was the sun?

Heart, Body and Soul tag list: @zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark @kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4 @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring @goblinjnr @outlanderuniverse @citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @red-riding-wood

Tag list: @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989 @call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat @red-riding-wood @optimisticsandwichgladiator

Tommy Shelby tag list: @50svibes

[lleah]

Feeling stuck, numb, melancolic or lost movies

Melancholia

Festen

Drunk

La chasse

Boy Meet Girl (CHOC)

Pola X    

Les amants du pont-neuf (91)

La reine des pommes

La guerre est déclarée

Main dans la main

Marguerite et Julien

Le feu follet****

Un homme qui dort ***

Little Miss Sunshine

500 jours ensemble

Le monde de Charlie

Oslo 31 Aout

Deux

Libre et assoupi

Yes man

Démolition

Sick of myself **

Mariage Story

Chien de la casse

[goldenmoonflowersworld]

[svndvn]

a sad little girl 

[enlil-confused-gnawer]

Another character I don't use anymore. The water asked me so much work at the time! XD