eldritch s/o hcs ; tim / masky

requested by ; anonymous (30/12/22)

fandom(s) ; creepypasta | marble hornets

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; tim wright | masky

outline ; “can you do headcanons of Tim and/or Masky with an eldritch s/o? like a lovecraftian being!

also I ADORE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

warning(s) ; canon typical references to violence, brief references to cults/enslavement/other common themes in lovecraftian works

you first met when his master, the operator, reached out to you and invited you to the manor for what it described as a bicentennial meeting of monsters

you were one of a few dozen madness-inducing, borderline incomprehensible creatures that had showed up — bumping elbows and tentacles and wings and horns with the crème of the crop as far as that sort went

monsters? gods? faeries? whatever, masky didn’t care and neither did hoodie

so they just did what they were told: standing to the side, barely seen and not heard, keeping toby out of trouble and tending to the needs of the crowd alongside the other proxies that had accompanied their masters

they all seemed snobby and elitist, cruel in every way

and then there was you

you who addressed your proxies by names and not titles

you who went through the trouble of sneaking servings of food off of your plate to the ‘lesser beings’ like them

you who hid your incomprehensible nature and took on a human form to greet them

you who apologised when one of your proxies accidentally bumped into him

you, with a smile that was brighter than the sun and eyes that burned like the empty depths of the sky — unnatural in a beautiful way

a charming smile so very you despite not being you at all

you spent most of the night talking to him and he kept as professional as possible whilst smiling behind his mask — feeling hoodie’s judging gaze on him and glaring sharply when toby made a lovey gesture behind your back

it was a wonderful night — well, it wasn’t, but meeting you made the rest of it seem far better than it was

before you left you passed him a piece of paper with your summoning sigil on it — instructing him to sign any letters to you with the signal before burning them if he wanted them to reach you (it’s what your cult had been doing for centuries, apparently)

and he stuffed it in his pocket as he escorted you to the edge of his master’s woods

the two of you kept in contact for a long time after that, maintaining a sort of relationship under his master’s nose (… metaphorical nose, anyway)

as masky he was much more forward, initiating physical contact and sex with you when you were together: dominant, flirty, rough and generally silent

the side you hope for if you want to lose the ability to walk for a while

the side that doesn’t fear you for he’s used to the eldritch and the pain they bring, but respects you as a superior in power and strength

as tim he’s much more talkative: casual, open, gruff and reluctantly affectionate

the side you hope for if you want a human spouse, not a voiceless fuck toy

the side that both loves you and fears you for your raw strength and godlike power

you try not to show your true form to him because you don’t want to subject him to the same agony and insanity as your followers — you loved him, coveted him, after all

he wasn’t someone you wanted to enslave and control like those who summoned you

he got the ‘human’ side, your proxies got the monstrous side

if he does suffer from any side effects after spending time with you, he doesn’t mention them or show it

doesn’t mention headaches, nose bleeds, nightmares or hot flushes or fevers — just keeps on flirting and touching and loving on you as he would normally

as tim he’s too stubborn to bring them up and doesn’t want you to feel guilty and as masky his pain tolerance is too high for him to complain (he works for slender after all)

either way your relationship is far from typical — made of a mortal and a monster — but it works for you and you wouldn’t have it any other way

Solace, In Silence: Chapter I

started writing a Sleep Token story a while ago and wanted to share it with you all. :]

(Word count: 890)

(TW: Mental Health struggles, Self-Harm and blood, Mentions/idealizations of Suicide, Existentialism)

Part I: Take a Bite of Me

Chapter One: Calcutta

“I’m whole again for just a moment, ‘till the morning comes.”

The city below glowed and shifted, full of life and people consumed by whatever matters peppered their realities. The streets twisted like a maze that stretched on forever. Here in this vast expanse, I lay alone, for I am nothing, if not a disgrace, a stain on the very face of this earth. I serve no one, I have no purpose, I am a ghost. I spend my days rotting away in my room; I dare not show my face to the world. And so, in my self-inflicted isolation, the darkness that blanketed my tired soul remains. 

The Earth remained beautiful, unafflicted and unhindered by my absence. I've given nothing but can't bring myself to die; I bleed from every scar and wound on my body, whether seen or unseen, physical or emotional. Despite this, the pain will never be enough to satisfy whatever twisted force tethers me to this life. Even with every last drop of sweet crimson being sapped from my body, I could not please the powers that be. In life's grand and beautiful tapestry, I am invisible and irredeemable. My nights are filled with tears, sobbing until my throat is raw and my eyes are puffy and red. I am tired. As darkness fell and the city lights battled the night for control, I remained unchanged as the streets filled with restless and working souls. Finally claimed by a restless sleep, enveloping dreams swept over me. Ones I couldn't hope to understand, Horrifying and yet, beautiful. I saw creatures and entities created and mutated by my own suffering and misery. 

Amidst these terrors, an unfathomable figure appeared, almost biblical in nature; it towered over my broken form, clad in robes and armour, with unfurled wings at its back. It couldn't be labelled by gender, seemingly shifting between states at will, never entirely solid, never quite human. in its hands, an apple stained an abyssal black within temptation, a golden liquid trickling down the sides the only reprieve from this unending void. It had taken the form of an angel; its intentions, however, seemed far from holy. It was a far cry from the celestial guardians many had grown to respect and fear equally. It raised its arms above its head and joined them together in a gesture of prayer; at this moment, as if some outside force had possessed my body, my hands joined in prayer with them. I felt like a passenger within my body while in motion, a mere spectator until I was thrust back into control; feeling a sense of security, I joined the beast in prayer. For a moment, the universe fell to a standstill. In this infinitesimally small moment, fate revealed my purpose to me. I was to serve as a mortal Vessel. It wanted someone to cater to its every whim. I was to be its muse, and for the first time, I felt truly alive and filled with purpose. I had finally been chosen. I revelled in its presence for what felt like years, centuries spent basking in the ethereal essence of this deity. 

At the peak of this euphoria, everything collapsed atop me, and I awoke again in my filthy Apartment, the sounds of the city slowly filling my ears as my vision began to clear; I was alone once again. I shot up in a panic as my eyes darted around the room, desperately searching for any sign of what I’d just experienced was real. My face felt hot, and my legs felt weak; I felt an emotion rise within me that I hadn't felt in years: despair. My vision hazy with the emotions swirling in my mind, I wept and cried and begged for my saviour to return to me, to assure me it wasn't a dream, that my purpose hadn't been revealed as some sick joke by the powers that be. 

I can't hold myself together anymore, so please; I need you. I yelled, screamed, and cried out for them to return to me and show me the warmth I had been denied for so long. In a desperate plea, Scarlet ran through my veins and down my arms as they wept; I could not live with the agony of my purpose being so frivolously given and then taken away from me. This apparent betrayal utterly crushed my soul. My sheets, stained with blood, clung to me as I spent my final waking hours bleeding from every wound on my body, seen or unseen. That night, as I slipped into unconsciousness, hoping never to wake again, suddenly, that warmth I had experienced so very briefly overwhelmed me. I stood before them once again; my saviour had returned to me. My breath escaped me, and my legs buckled.  They were real; they had come back and swept me up in their embrace once more. I fell to my knees and began to pray; my faith in them solidified, my eyes welled, and my emotions began to overwhelm me. I began to wail; my soul had known no greater joy until now. I cried till my throat gave out, and my eyes went dry as I had wept till I had no more tears to give.

With all this talk about the gods, what other DnD deities do you like besides Bane? There's a lot of interesting ones

Well, like would be an interesting word for what I feel for the Gods.

I used to think Shar was interesting, but much like serial killers, her whole shtick breaks down rather simply: "I hate life! Fuck you, you wretched beings! You don't have a right to exist, and my bitch sister is to blame for your existence, so I am going to create so much chaos and so much misery that the world will fold in on itself!"

It's pathetic once you break it down. She's a jealous, angry, violent, and self-absorbed harlot, and she's dead-set on taking it out on everyone that lives. She uses people foolish enough to turn to her to realize that vision. They all have their own justifications, but it's serving a master that actively thinks you are filthy and wants you dead. It's pointless and an exercise in futility, because she will never 'Embrace you in darkness' or whatever lie she has promised. She is open about her hatred if you are not so enveloped in her lies that you fall for them.

Literally, this woman has a plaque in her temple that reads "Equality in darkness. No beauty and no wealth. Only equality" and then, in the next fucking room, has a 500 foot statue of herself with gold filigree standing on innumerable humans skulls.

She is the edgy goddess with no real point. Undirected and unwarranted anger. Great purple aesthetic, but ultimately embarrassingly pointless. She targets the weak and the angry and sharpens them into instruments for her will, and then discards them when she no longer needs them. For some reason, none of her followers see this pattern and keep justifying. Not exactly bright, this lot.

I can appreciate what Ilmater stands for.

But their beliefs are flawed. It's an ouroboros of suffering.

His entire domain is ultimate selflessness: I will do whatever I can to ease your suffering, even taking that suffering upon myself and even dying if need be. The God on the Rack. The Martyr. The Crying God.

You can see why that might have some flaws.

More than that, as you can see in the temple, most of the people that serve Ilmater do not even understand his teachings. People are suffering because Ilmater does not correct these people. Refugees are dying because his own acolytes find them filthy and disgusting and find them unworthy. This goes against all of His teachings. What the fuck are you even doing here?

If this is so important to you, why do you not correct this behavior? You are breaking your own beliefs with your inability to act because these people-- these children-- are suffering and dying because those operating under your holy name are harboring delusions that are actively harmful-- and even malevolent.

Caring, compassion, love for the aching and the dying? These are good tenants, but like most Gods, he takes it too fucking far. You encourage selflessness and martyrdom, but to be there for another is to have a steady foundation. You cannot ease suffering if your own suffering is so great that you cannot see through it. You are offering the chance to romanticize it and 'self-flagellate'-- sometimes literally.

If you are not healthy, you cannot ease suffering. You will not know what to say. What to do. You will follow scripts and rules, but suffering does not follow these things. When someone is truly in pain, how do you ease them if your own pain is too great? How do you comfort them? How can you show love when all you know is pain? People who cry and weep and moan but cannot truly help anyone because they themselves are bleeding.

He is creating a cycle of suffering. People who mean well, but are such push-overs that they cannot help themselves either. To take suffering is not to ease it. It is not to cure it. It is not to end it. It is to bring it on to one's self or another. It isn't sustainable. You have a god that does not help pain, but passes it on. (Shira Clarwen and her ancestor who sought to give her the amulet?)

Another extreme taken to an extreme. Unsustainable.

Umberlee I actually like for one reason.

She is the sea incarnate. The whims of the ocean. The cruelty, the tumultuous violence, the senselessness-- and man's desperate need to appease it despite the futility of it all. The desperate need we feel to have some level of control over it. Maybe if we appease her or if we can gain her favor somehow--

We make foolish offerings in her name. We name our boats after women-- mothers-- to feel protected on the waves, almost reverting to a child like state in the face of her power. We pray to her, revere her in the hopes that she will spare us.

She has no real demands that we can understand. We can pretend we understand. We give her things that we would want. Gold. Riches. A piece of the treasure her benevolence allowed us to take. But really? She will turn on you for no real reason, and we are left to speculate.

She is the brutality of nature. A thing that man cannot tame or understand or truly appease. Her domain is vast and beautiful and she will protect it viciously. Sometimes, she will destroy you simply because she can.

Give her what you will, should it make you feel better. Offer up what you can. There is no true way to know. You can hope and pray. You can watch your step. It might not matter in the slightest.

She is the patron of those who roam the seas and are dependent on Her whims. She is a form of nature. Cruel, lovely, and yet, we cannot resist. We traverse it because we feel the need-- because we must. But that will not save you.

There are some varied examples of what I think of the Gods. I highly prefer the ones that are open about their indifference. They are patrons of something, and not here for humanity. I find the ones that utterly rely on humanoid worship and yet remain utterly indifferent or even cruel absurd and irritating. Shar and her bullshit and the the ones like her. Even worse are the ones that claim to be 'virtuous' and yet use that Godhood for nothing.

I am sure there are good things to be said about Good Gods, but they seem like celebrities to me. They come out once in a blue moon and do some miracle that costs them nothing and demand worship for the next 200 years while they allow horrific things to happen to those that give them power. When questioned? Always some bullshit nebulous answer. It is the people who worship them who do good. They are ideas to uphold, and that is the only true good they serve.

The evil Gods? The manmade Gods like the Dead Three? At least they are open. They are honest-- and that is more than you can say for most of these Gods. The rest are figureheads that cannot even get off their own ass to stand for their ideals. They rely on man to carry it out.

So I ask: Do we really need them? Other than the devastation they threaten? Other than fear? What use are they? The evil Gods offer fear openly and readily. The others? A silent threat. A waiting fist. A sheathed sword.

Mystra? Oh, the almighty goddess of Magic. Without her, the weave dissipates. So, that means she gets to run rampant, because what is one life-- or millions-- against her own? The greater evil for a lesser good, I suppose? Lathander, who could not protect his own devout and yet wielded the power of the morning sun?

And what of the afterlife? What of that promise? That security? It is known that Shar will abandon her followers once they die. Is it truly outlandish to believe the others do too? They didn't care about you when you gave them power-- when you were alive. What use are you to them now? A bronze piece they cannot trade? A weight in their pocket? Useless.

The kingdoms are built by mortal hands. They are maintained by mortal hands. They are protected by mortal hands. The gods claim credit, but what is it, exactly, that they truly deserve credit for? Morals? A symbol? What is it? The masons who laid the stone? The young men who died protecting it? The wisdom of the king who ruled it?

The raiders earn their credit, as do their Gods. They own the blood on their swords. The meat in their teeth. The cruelty in their hearts. They earn it. Their God sits as an advisor, ever present and ever demanding. Palpable.

That's more than I can say for the pantheon. Faerun or otherwise.

Xenophanes' Yandere Alphabet

Metallica is very well written to. You can listen to one of the songs «Devil's Dance». As far as I'm concerned, this track suits perfectly Xenophanes.

Warnings: yandere's behavior, manipulation, intimidation, gaslighting, elements of Lima syndrome, detailed descriptions of body horror and murder and psychological/physical violence, torture

Art belongs to @crowstare.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Xenophanes has a rather strange, horrible, one might even say cruel attachment to you. He tries to get your attention by inflicting pain on others. Tearing someone else's flesh, pulling out their insides and laughing and laughing and laughing... While you're crying your eyes out. He loves to look at your tear-red beautiful face, at your frightened crystal-clear eyes full of innocence and submission. His affection goes too far, for he has no personal boundaries. He's an unfeeling demon who wants to make others suffer and obey him.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Very, very messy. No matter who makes an attempt on your life, he will tear to pieces absolutely anyone, even his slaves. Xenophanes is a terrible possessor, he won't let anyone take over his toy. Only he can do with you what he pleases. In his world all things must be as he wills, for here he is Father, Son and Holy Spirit. In his domain he is God, the Dark Master of souls.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Always, after a human enters his world, the evil spirit takes a closer look at them. He studies their behaviour, their habits, their secret fears buried deep in their soul. Once he has enough information, he begins to act.

What about you, he discovers that you fear Death. And so he gets you into deadly situations that (without his help) you wouldn't have gotten out of alive. At once you stumble and fall straight into a fiery lava before he turns the boiling pool into bloody water. Barely out of the river, you were shaking like mad, you were on the verge of a nervous breakdown. And he took enormous pleasure in knowing that he now knew which buttons to push to make you weep.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

He would like to feel close to you. To touch your body with his huge, sharp claws, leaving bleeding scratches on it. He would have wanted to make you scream in fear and overwhelm you with strong emotions as you hung on him like a plush doll, begging him to stop. But he wouldn't listen to you. His desire, his passion, his lust for you was too great. He wouldn't listen to your pleas to leave the poor people he tormented alone at all. After all, that's how he wanted to show you who's the Master here. Who is the puppeteer and who is just a mere puppet.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Although the demon is quite aggressive and fierce, he never shows you his positive emotions. Simply because he's incapable of it. He was born in a cataclysm, in a massive explosion. In fact, he was a fatal mistake. And therefore he believes that all feelings other than rage and anger are false. He sees only falsehood and hypocrisy in these kinds of feelings. Xenophanes is very tight-lipped with you, though he does not neglect to show you all his hatred lurking in his dark and gloomy soul.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

The fiend is used to people's futile, totally useless attempts to fight back. He feels an incredible superiority over all living beings. He is dark matter, an evil spirit, a numen. And people... They're just flesh and blood. This is why he is perfectly calm when you try to fight him, when you tremble with fear, though you try very hard not to let on that you are pretty afraid of your tyrant. However, he feels everything and understands everything. And so your defenceless appearance turns him on incredibly well, and he even allows you to step outside of his deadly game. But when you go too far, that's when he goes berserk with rage. You can step right and left, but there's no way he's going to let you cross the line, which is to run away from him for the umpteenth time. He wants you to be with him as much as possible so that you can never leave him. After all, you cannot die twice. You cannot escape from where your home is now.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Heck, it certainly is. His attitude towards you is just a game, and the trials prepared especially for you are an element of it. You are his favourite puppet, which he controls like a skilled puppeteer. Pulling strings, forcing you to move your limbs, obeying him. And puppets cannot rebel against their Master. Simply because they would immediately be brutally suppressed.

Once, while playing with you, when he grabbed you, holding you in his sharp, knife-like claws, you began to break free, sobbing and screaming pitifully. At that moment he just laughed eerily and ghastly and horribly. His laughter made your blood run cold, and it pained you intensely that he saw you as little more than a mere toy that could bore its owner at any moment. A toy that he could tear into a thousand little pieces.

But when you plunged a bone you'd picked up from the wreckage of a poor man who was already dead into his forehead, he was stunned. He was stunned that you hated him, even though he himself had done absolutely nothing to make you change your mind about him. He felt a very real rage, showing his volcano-like wrath. It's an experience you'll never forget. One second and you staggered and shrieked and touched your face, the red liquid spurting from your face. From his incredibly sharp dagger claws ran scarlet hot blood. Two pairs of deep wounds flaunted indifferently on your face.

A hypocritical game, a hypocritical player. It's payback for disobedience.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

To tell the truth, absolutely everything about your tormentor was a living hell. You were scared to death of his eyes, full of hatred and indifference to all living things. His gaze inspired nothing good, his gaze destroyed hope as soon as it appeared. You were frightened by his slaves, disgusting and vile creatures who behaved as Xenophanes himself wished. They were echoes of his warped imagination, his corrupted picture of the world.

But there was something else that scared the hell out of you — his transformation into a crystalline form. You were sure he had done it on purpose in front of you to frighten you. You watched in utter horror as his arms stretched out, like snakes ready to grab their prey. You watched his torso stretch out too: he was literally hovering over you, he had to hump hard to grab you. His ribs protruded so much that you feared they would just jump out of his nightmarishly sized body in an instant. His purple needles were like crystals: they shone just as brightly, but there was danger lurking in their beauty; you were sickened by this shimmering acid colour. His huge, enormous jaw with dozens of fangs as sharp as knives were poised to bite your neck, to tear through your flesh. He bared his fangs and extended his bloody claws in the hope of grabbing you.

You would have sworn to God that you would have died on the spot had it not been for the life-saving adrenaline that made you dash away.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Perhaps he had never given it much thought, for now he was quite satisfied with everything. One of his favourites trembles just from the mere sight of him, and that is definitely what he needs. To know that you obey him, inviolately doing whatever he asks. Watching you cry (for the umpteenth time?), rubbing your tear-red eyes. He loved your helpless look, and that was enough for him.

The future is a mortal problem. There is no time, no space, no boundaries in heaven. There the world is ruled by serenity, stretching and unconcern.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He gets incredibly furious when you start telling him that this is not your home and he is not your Master. It's not true. It's all blatant lies. He just didn't want to believe it, the evil spirit was incredibly angry that you wanted to trade him for some mortal pleasures. What is it worth to have a family that will be nothing anyway, just because all the loved ones will die one day? What are friends worth who can stab you in the back at any moment, betray you at the most inopportune moment? What is love worth, an arrogant and lousy bitch who thinks it rules the world?

The body is a lie. All feeling is a lie.

He proved it to you time and time again, but you wouldn't listen. He had everything to give it to you, but you didn't want immortality, his endless possessions and his crazy, sick attachment.

You just wanted to get home. To have everything back the way it was.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Based on his unpredictable behaviour, you could never predict what he would be like this time. Would he simply laugh in response to your impertinent trick or would he grab enraged you by the throat, squeezing until you were unconscious? It was as if you were playing dice with Death, for there was no other way you could explain the phenomenon.

He was surprisingly gentle once. Before you knew it, you'd cornered yourself playing catch-up with him. He was slow as hell to approach you, as if to mock you and your feelings. You were tired of being constantly in his clawed clutches, for he very rarely gave you an alternative course of action. You sobbed silently: you were exhausted. Closing your eyes, you leaned against the cold tiled wall, waiting for the endless torture. But the very second you felt the hot breath on your body. It was literally burning you with it. The heat filling your chest made you begin to shake. Before him, in this position, you were like a small, weak, defenseless lamb in front of an enraged, cruel and hungry wolf.

Xenophanes did not believe in feelings. But he believes that you would stay with him, for you would simply have no choice.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

The Dark Lord does not need to woo you. He'll turn events so that it's you who's after him and his attention. On your knees, begging him to kill you, to finally take your soul and not hurt you anymore. He wanted to make you afraid of him so that you couldn't say a word in fear of him. He was looking for your fears, groping for your deepest hiding places so that at the right moment he could push on your triggers, making you break down. He wanted to know what would happen to a human if they were deprived of everything they held so dear.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

For the most part, no. He treats you the same way he treats the rest of his slaves — cruelly and inhumanely. The only thing different about his behaviour with you is that he plays with you otherwise. It is as if he wants to help you, but at the same time he will not lend you a helping hand if he thinks that you are capable of handling his ordeal yourself. For example, as was the case with your fall into the fiery lava. He gave you a clue, turned the situation around and the rest was only on your shoulders.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

You consider your worst punishment to be being in his world yourself. Your bloody survival in his endless domain. He punished you long ago, though he doesn't think so himself. Personally, he considers it the best gift heaven has to offer: you can never die again, from now on you are immortal. You can wander endlessly through his domain, he allows you to do so, for everything that was his is now yours too. He lavishes you with his attention, neglecting his precious time which he could have spent conquering another mortal soul. But none of this is necessary for you, and this makes him incredibly furious. And so, enraged, he bares his fangs and growls furiously, making you scream in fear. He grabs you by the throat and tosses you aside. You fall and hit your head: you are knocked unconscious. And he, proud and lonely and exasperated, walks away to leave you with your thoughts.

Either way, you soon change your mind about him. After all, it's human nature to get used to everything.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Needless to say that he has taken your soul to make you his plaything for all eternity? Perhaps he has taken the most precious thing a human can have, which is life. Needless to remind you that he will stop at nothing until he has broken you, made you fall to your knees and bow to him, telling him over and over that he is your Deity? There is no doubt that he is deliberately taunting you, testing you, trying you out. He wants to feel to the end that bitter, salty taste of your tears, your strong sense of fear and consternation before him.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Frankly, patience is not his strong suit. He is used to getting everything at once, and if one of his wonderful toys decides to rebel against him, he will simply break it without giving it a chance to be rescued.

However, he didn't do that to you at all. Yes, he was angry with you, he bullied you, he tortured you in all sorts of ways. But he would never want you to end up broken in his claws. He wouldn't want you to completely disappear from his sight, for he treasures all his puppets like no other. You are his favourite, a new, adorable toy, with your own peculiarities and charms. He has not yet played with you the way he has with others, and he would like to study you up and down.

But just as soon as he becomes bored with you, he won't hesitate any longer. You will immediately recede into the background.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

It's hard to say what the demon would do. But he knows one thing for sure — he would be incredibly upset if he lost a doll as beautiful as you. It's like a skilled artisan smashing his finest piece of craftsmanship that he has been working on for a long time.

The number of souls he has enslaved is staggering. But he counts each and every one of them, for every soul gives him incredible power and authority, capable of creating entire Universes.

And if he were to lose you, he would be enraged and frustrated. He would lose his self along with you.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

It would be a very amusing spectacle if dark matter, already living for billions of years in the Universe, felt guilty for what it had done. Xenophanes has never felt pity for anything, as pity is the destiny of the weak, i.e. of mortals. Hundreds of thousands of souls were already in his possession and he was not going to stop at that. With every day, with every minute, with every second he gets a few steps closer to his cherished goal. And why would he let you go? No, he doesn't. He will never let you leave his Dead Kingdom, he will never take pity on you. Too cruel and black is his nature.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Perhaps it is his true nature that has given rise to this cruel side of him. He is a barren spirit, incapable of feeling compassion, pity, longing, much less love, for such feelings are simply unnecessary to him. However, his strong desire to enslave the entire human race, to become the true Ruler of this rotten world, makes him experience the basest and nastiest feelings, namely, pride and greed and anger and envy and lust. It is these feelings that guide his behaviour and make him a monster ready to tear and thrash. He is Lucifer, who has encroached on heaven. He is the Dark God of his dark domain, in which he may one day perish forever. But not now.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Human suffering, cries for help and tears were like a delight to his ears. He was used to hearing such things, he was used to being frightening. He was used to scaring people to death and making them tremble as soon as he appeared. He was incredibly turned on by your hot tears, your red eyes, your scarlet face. Your defenceless appearance provoked him to do something indecent to you, something completely wrong, as people would put it. He was ready to feel you completely, to explore every inch, every millimetre of your body. He was ready to rip your clothes off and gut your insides in a single moment, but he didn't do that every time. After all, everything sweet is left for dessert, isn't it?

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

One could say that what sets Xenophanes apart from other yanderes is that he approaches everything with a rather pronounced 'childlike' perception of the world. He behaves like a jealous toddler who has seen a great variety of toys. He can't get enough of souls, possessions, much less you. He wants to get to the bottom of things, to go head to head, and he doesn't care about the consequences. Just because he will get away with his cruel behaviour — no one is capable of killing him. Absolutely no one. He is well aware of this, and therefore he does what he wants to do. He says what he thinks. Acts as he sees fit. He plays dice with you, knowing full well that he will always come out the winner.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

No matter how badly you want to escape, unfortunately, you will never be able to. However, you seem to have figured out (at least found some ways) how you can stop him, if only for a minute.

He was weak before human tears. They aroused him like nothing else, and you were well aware of that. That's why you didn't have to do much of the wriggling, because he did everything for you. He made you weep and squeal and beg for mercy. And seeing how weak and feeble you were before him, his cold eyes gleamed with excitement and lust. For a moment he paused, watching you with fascination. He damn well loved watching people's reactions to his provocations, to his ruthless and bloody actions.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Damn it, is it even worth mentioning that your whole life spent in his dark place has been one solid misery stretching into infinity? Every day, every minute, every second you dreaded the unknown, because you never knew what the demon had in store for you this time. It was fucking Russian roulette with the Devil. The death games had bored you to death, you were so exhausted that you didn't even want to guess what was going to happen this time. The evil spirit taunted you every time it got the chance — as soon as he took possession of your soul, he took possession of your body and mind forever.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He sees in every person a great, magnificent and most delightful toy, a fragile doll with its own history. He is a collector of porcelain dolls, and you are one of his exhibits in his lovely collection.

In a way, yes, he worshipped you. He worshipped you like a puppeteer who was grateful to his puppets for there would be no performance without them. But he was using you to profit from it, namely to gain power, to become stronger.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Life without you would be possible for the evil spirit if you simply didn't exist. Well, as long as you are in his domain, he will be interested in you until he grows bored with you. Time doesn't exist in his world. So he simply doesn't count the minutes — he doesn't think it's necessary.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Isn't it obvious? He is doing absolutely everything he can to taste you, to feel you, to find your most vulnerable and sore spots. And then press your triggers and break you. Break you mentally, so that you lose your sanity and don't know where his illusion, his delusion of the senses, and where the brutal reality is. He wants to break you physically: to examine all your contents, to admire it, like a child who has received a cherished toy. He wants to make you his property, his puppet, whose meaning would lie in eternal service to him.

Your life is an eternal performance. His amusement is your eternal suffering. Yet even eternity itself, strange as it may sound, isn't eternal. Everything will disappear one day. Everything will have to come to an end someday.

✦ * ・　　⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯　　𝐢 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐢 𝐚𝐦 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝. a random assortment of sentences taken from j. k. rowling's "harry potter". also includes movie quotes. change pronouns if needed.

‘ you're a little scary sometimes, you know that? brilliant ... but scary. ’ ‘ it takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. ’ ‘ the truth. it is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. ’ ‘ fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself. ’ ‘ it is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities. ’ ‘ i'll be in my bedroom, making no noise and pretending i'm not there. ’ ‘ when in doubt, go to the library. ’ ‘ honestly, if you were any slower, you'd be going backward. ’ ‘ never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain. ’ ‘ happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light. ’ ‘ i want to commit the murder i was imprisoned for. ’ ‘ the ones that love us never really leave us. you can always find them in here. ’ ‘ if you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals. ’ ‘ i am what i am, and i'm not ashamed. ’ ‘ your devotion is nothing more than cowardice. you would not be here if you had anywhere else to go. ’ ‘ numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it. ’ ‘ just because it's taken you three years to notice, doesn't mean no one else has spotted i'm a girl! ’ ‘ it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be. ’ ‘ time will not slow down when something unpleasant lies ahead. ’ ‘ i think we've outgrown full-time education ... time to test our talents in the real world. ’ ‘ just because you have the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have. ’ ‘ i mean, it's sort of exciting, isn't it, breaking the rules? ’ ‘ we've all got both light and dark inside us. what matters is the part we choose. to act on. that's who we really are. ’ ‘ indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike. ’ ‘ suffering like this proves you are still a man! this pain is part of being human. ’ ‘ [name], you are the most insensitive wart i have ever had the misfortune to meet. ’ ‘ you do care. you care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it. ’ ‘ don't worry. you're just as sane as i am. ’ ‘ once again, you show all the sensitivity of a blunt axe. ’ ‘ what do i care how he looks? i am good-looking enough for both of us, i think! ’ ‘ we're with you whatever happens. ’ ‘ you need your friends. ’ ‘ i'm going to keep going until i succeed -- or i die. don't think i don't know how this might end. i've known it for years. ’ ‘ we're all human, aren't we? every human life is worth the same, and worth saving. ’ ‘ so it all comes down to this, doesn't it? ’ ‘ you'll stay with me? ’

Oh, there is such a beautiful truth to the teaching of ‘non-duality’, of course! We discover the absolute and unshakable Presence that we are, prior to the story of our lives. We touch That which never changes in the midst of all external change. Life itself. Our true nature. Prior to thought and feeling and perception and sensation. Deathless, eternal, still. Forever at rest.

We need nothing. We want nothing. We are nothing.

And in that nothing ‘we’ cannot even know ‘nothing’.

Yet the conceptual mind co-opts this beautiful and absolute truth. We lose ourselves in the silence and the silence becomes a new identity and we pretend that we are ‘beyond’ suffering, that we have ‘transcended’ thoughts and feelings, that we are ‘enlightened’ now. Our untouchability becomes a mask, a persona, a new place to hide.

Our new identity becomes ‘no identity at all’.

“Only non-duality is real. Duality is an illusion”.

We are no longer a person. We are “Pure Awareness”.

Yes, it’s true. And it’s totally untrue at the same time.

You are unlimited Awareness but you are also a fragile and vulnerable and delicate and passionate and limited human being. You feel deeply. You hurt, sometimes. You have wounds that are longing to be felt, seen, embraced, included in the bigger picture of You. Your wounds won’t go away just because you’ve discovered your true nature. They won’t go away just because you are ‘nobody’ now. They won’t go away just because you are a teacher, an author, a spiritual expert, an enlightened one, a non-person, a non-non-person, or whatever dream character you’ve dreamed yourself to be in this great and lucid play.

For many, many years I have been emphasizing the ‘other side’ of non-duality (yes that is a paradox and yes all words are temporary here). And the ‘other side’ is nothing less than a courageous embrace of duality, a deep YES to our humanness – our sorrow, our shame, our pain, our fears, our confusion, our loneliness, our doubts and our despair. A YES to our vulnerability, to being touched deeply and to touching life in return. To embracing our grief, our inner victim, our chaos and our sweet imperfection. To loving this fleshy mortal mess that we are.

If we bury our shame, our guilt, our wounds, if we suffocate the precious inner child and pretend to be free and perfect and enlightened and ‘done’, our wounds will only fester and poison and drain us from the inside. We will act out in unconscious, habitual and unkind ways, to ourselves and the ones we love.

What we resist persists, and what we try to numb ends up numbing us in return.

I truly don’t see our humanity as divided from our divinity. I don’t see ‘no self’ as the final truth, but a place to begin. We are nothing and we are also something! We are Awareness and we are human, the absolute as the relative, the sacred as the manifest, the ocean dancing as the wave. We bleed. We hurt. We need help. Sometimes we just want a brother or sister to hold us. Sometimes we tire of being ‘the spiritual one’, ‘the one who knows’, ‘the expert’. Sometimes we just need to fall to our knees in humility and ask the Universe for support and guidance.

We are gods and we are so very fragile. We live so close to life, so close to death. So close to joy, so close to sorrow. We are invulnerable and we can feel the world's pain as our own, in compassion.

I want to speak up for a non-duality that is nothing less than a full embrace of duality. A compassionate, heart-centered non-duality that loves the world, that infuses the Earth with empathy, that grounds itself in the struggles of daily life, that bows to form and celebrates form and un-shames form, that drenches every thought, sensation and feeling in love and understanding. That says ‘Hey, it’s okay to be human, it’s okay to hurt, and your sorrow is sacred, and your fear isn’t a sign that you’re broken but a sign that you are sensitive and open and awake, and these painful parts are only parts longing for acceptance…”

And in the end, remember, even these words must collapse under their own weight. There is no nonduality or duality. Even that mythology must crumble into the vast mystery of Now.

There is only this unspeakable feeling of the breath rising and falling, and the heart beating in the chest, and the mysterious and magical weight of the earth-bound body, and the sound of the bird singing, the traffic outside, and the tingly aliveness in the toes, the hands, the throat, the fluttering in the belly, and this wonderful sense of being alive, prior to words, prior to the search itself, prior to all things, and there are no experts here, and we are all beginning again, in every moment.

- Jeff Foster

ok one last suicide post for today and i swear i'll try to be more chill after that. emphasis on try

(fair warning this is very whiny and negative) (also tw for somewhat graphic death stuff)

i am sooooo done with everything. it's nothing new, i just. can't stand being alive for even one more day. getting out of bed was so hard today bc what's even the point. and tomorrow i actually have some shit to do and i'm already exhausted. already have been exhausted for a few days. i hate routines i hate that every week is the same i hate that the only shit that can spice it up is like, medical appointments. i look at my calendar and i see i have nothing to look forward to and nothing going on besides usual shit + medical shit. and i'm tired of those too. and i'm back to being in pain every day so it feels like all the food changes i made were for nothing and I've just been extra suffering for nothing bc i'm still. in fucking. pain.

and like beyond the personal shit i'm also done with bigger stuff too! i'm tired of the war i'm tired of seeing so much suffering in the world i'm tired of seeing loved ones going to funerals of ppl in their 20s. i'm tired of people dismissing this pain bc there are other bigger issues, or because our lives don't matter bc the number of losses is lower (or bc they just fucking hate us and can't see us as individual humans rather than some homogeneous group). i'm tired of seeing ppl i love care less about other lives bc of this, too. i don't want to live here. i hate this country so much. i can't leave, i can't even manage to leave my parents' house. i'm scared to live here. i'm scared to live anywhere else bc everywhere in the world is unsafe for ppl like me. everywhere sucks. everything in the world sucks so much. anything that can be beautiful gets taken away or destroyed. the world is becoming worse every day in every conceivable way.

and there's no point to any of this! there's no point in trying to get better or to make things better!!! BECAUSE the world is going to shit!!! what's the point in me making my mental health better (an already very unlikely task to fulfill) if there's nowhere for me to live. what's the point in working in the only field i can handle if i won't be able to make a living off it. what's the point in trying to build a life of my own if it'll never really be mine anyway, bc i can't fucking do anything, i can't even do basic shit like eating or sleeping like a normal person, i can't walk or stand for too long, i can't be outside for so many reasons, i can't talk to people and i can't handle being alone, i'm always in pain and constantly nauseous no matter what i do or how i try to fix it, nothing about my body works right and especially not my brain that can't fucking do anything right and only keeps working to make everything about me worse. i wish i was brave enough to just stab myself or smth. preferably in the head so i can shut that brain up for once. i wish i was brave enough to jump off the 9th floor. i wish i could drown myself or cut myself till i bleed to death or. i don't know. i just want to die. i can't stand being alive. there is too much bad and the specks of good are so fleeting that they're not worth it, not to mention come with their own bad stuff usually. and all this. all this bad is just too much for me to handle. but it's a natural part of life that i can't avoid (tbf, most people don't staight up suffer to the point of wanting to die from like, eating or going to the bathroom, so it's probably easier for them). i was not meant to be alive i was not built to be alive i wish i died in the who knows how many times i almost did i wish i drowned as a kid i wish i bled to death when i split my head open i wish my heart actually stopped pumping blood when it almost did i wish that truck ran into me and killed me on the spot i wish the fucking terrorists shot me or stabbed me and made sure i was dead i wish those 30 pills would've actually done something. i'm so tired. i hate this. i hate being alive. i hate life itself. i'm done with everything i can't handle it anymore. i wish i wasn't a coward so i could at least try to die again. or someone was willing to kill me. or anything. i just. i can't.

Jim Hammond

Character Song Lyrics for Jim Hammond

Here's to being human All the pain and suffering There's beauty in the bleeding At least you feel something

Really this whole song gives me Jim Vibes- I Am Machine by Three Days Grace

Dying Poetry

Dying poetry

The moonlight comes through my window illuminating my weak and tired body She beautiful and radiant is here She surrounds me All my feelings flow out of me like a raging river

Pain takes over even more of me She is inside my skin She is inside my head

The weeping in me turns to wailing The old walls of my room weep watering the floor making black and crimson red roses bloom around my bed

She's inside my flesh making my skin turn icy cold

Feelings begin to die Thoughts begin to disappear She takes over my being taking over me, starting to rain in the dark sky like her gaze

She takes control I'm dying and the wind turns violent

Oh!!! Beautiful if this is my end take me where the poets lie Oh! Take me where my poetry became roses and butterflies.

You are as precious as the darkness

You more than anyone know my sufferings, my sins and my only truth, you know that this weak body was stained by the beloved dirt.

Take me to holiness, to glory where my soul can rest, the world is full of demons disguised as humans, the world is full of falsehood, you know it well, my beloved.

Oh! Precious can you hear the sinister cry of a baby on top of that hill, that's the cry of my weary heart, the precious trees begin to bleed as I am bleeding

I'm dying next to the poetic night as it formed a smile. I'm dying along with the melodic song of the night bird

Take the poetry of my soul and write it in the dark sky Take my tears and water them in completely dry lands and make poisonous and deadly roses bloom

Take this dying poetry and write it in the holy bible and make the sky begin to rain blood like a flood as you hold my body in your loving warm arms, make this dying poetry my vengeance and my freedom

Surround me and avenge all my pain and wash away my sins. Dying poetry of my heart

Melody Jade~

Ch1 begin somewhere/end no where The never ending cycle of life and death angels and demons as we’ve come to know Soaked In dark a light comes Powers for those in realm that is closer than home to ones grave onyx - a power over death,doom, dying,decomposition,destruction,nothingness silence not really peace, but quiet. Their are rare star components that will shine in grim instances unknowingly the worst kind - double meaning but that’s the power of a purity, you reverse that and comes a pure evil 👿 : 😈 Red onyx a bloodstone holds its deep red still as it aligns with brown dwarf stars, red giants, and in an instance the dominion over the dead, the destruction of matter comes to it naturally much like a black hole engulfing both antimatter. And matter Vile creatures Onyx is special for they will give the power of pain and suffering even anguish followed by human emotions such as heart break, mistakes, flaw and error. A half and half limbo state they will spend most of their time in despair and many of these many souls fall deep into the deepest pits of hell just out of mere desire to no longer exist Will they fall deeper into the fire that is pure evil ? I do Not know buts that’s where this book i write and why it begins,that I know Nonetheless I have to write it. 333 no matter just like anything in life there is a balance to even the darkness desperate to the unknown the uncomfortable break their fear and loss can be mourned no longer grief but remembrance from the scars bleeds the light bringing possibilities of life shining forever brighter and so on. Crazy to think From this Cold Dark Space in Time came a Fire so bright it created Light 💡 -GOD - Life, humans power is love as we choose to show it so forever grained in time written into the foundations of heaven the Stones that spread the colors of light across earth but not everyone sees the beauty of our space and the universe it shoots this light as lighting faster than the speed of itself matter it’s changes frequency’s rearranging;multiverses dimensions reinterpret , themselves over and over … because there supposed to ? Idk they say history repeats itself and if you think about it reincarnation the whole idea itself is like saying “the light of from which it started at and from which was darkness, will forever be sung” I’m pretty sure that these are my own words but I Wouldn’t be surprised if I’m wrong.😑 maybe someone somewhere said the same shit who knows so the light continues on to take another form: plasma, which created stars that break down over time but only in parts over the most amounts of time not a human mind can comprehend how they feel for fucks sake the the core of our dirt ball holds lava rocks that have burned for so long it gets harder regardless of space and time there are forces greater than reality and In the mind we can only dream to begin and fathom as humans some of us do at least It’s not that easy It’s all that we believe to know Brainwashed to forever be tangled So to our earths ocean mountains /42/ plains and in the ice and snow we all share so close and for that’s all we know Gut instinct shows were killing our home To think just these three things they could barely handle the thought of being without the other created the Big Bang life as we know It Before it was dark it was cold Created a spark in the frozen like the branches in a snow flake falling from above it created our lives from the cracks they shine not all choose to grow with the fire forever endlessly reminded no going back or rewinding just a cycle of experience that is us The universe This is my beginning of the story Ive been trying to Tell I show you first and ask that you hear me out and that this is my trust where my hope is that you keep it safe or write it down I am Not asking just between us hopefully thinking here it will stay here depend upon the rest of the world one day Just listen, or read it actually is better no need to reply but instead ask your self , would you read more over time? No need to lie

Isaac Josiah sanchez 💎💎

I'm not gonna be specific bc I just wanna say it but the fact that this woman is so vulnerable and open about her dating life and her experiences and how men treat her but fans still want to sit here and romanticize these relationships after she's long out of them and even some of the men publicly long for her after treating her badly like huh? We're all just ignoring the cheating, hiding and lying?? For what?? Romance?? It's not romantic for her to cut herself to the bone and fit into these tiny boxes to fit their lives only for them to pay her in dirt. Then she finally leaves and suddenly the fans and these men just can't believe she'd leave and act like that was her only chance at true love like fuxking excuse me? And some of her female friends too who she gets shipped with that leave clues for the fans after their friendships have already been dissolved it's giving clout chaser it's giving stop giving these fucking vampires attention this is terrible and shitty of them to do after already breaking her heart like be so fucking fr rn as a fan do you actually like this woman or do you just want to play with her like a doll as if she's not a human person

Like the career less loser who she wrote "love songs" about that are filled with real bleeding anxiety and fear and all the inspo she found for her "fictional" songs about heartbreak and begging for a crumb of attention and love and even on the most recent releases coming right out and saying this man didn't put her in his priority list to the end and running with her to avoid being seen like she's an embarrassing person to spend so much time with and now that they're over he makes a fucking post w references to her lyrics like how heartless can you be she left you she won't release the song everyone wants her to about you probably bc she doesn't want you to regret it or receive hate from her fans she's a nice fucking lady so nice and so sweet and so deserving of a real true love that puts her first and is proud of her and yea I'll say it like the one she has now bc excuse me it's night and day yet I still see stupid ass comments talking about "I miss her ex come back dad" like shut the fuck up you're a grown adult and you want this woman to turn back on a decision she obviously agonized over making they were together for 6 years do you think it didn't hurt her do you think she made that choice lightly do you think she wanted anyone else's input beside her own beating heart that told her it was time to go like once again this a woman who's been baring her soul for us making such gorgeous beautiful music that we relate to and allowing us in and to pay her dirt by ignoring her pain and her truth and the real desire there to be loved by someone who isn't afraid to give her what she needs that's crazy

And then today I saw a timeline of her and the teenager she dated and I was shocked bc I remember growing up and vaguely thinking they were cute but the way this man emotionally led her on for years and essentially called her the person who "he can always come back to be pushed and inspiration" like huh?? That's romantic??? The way he still obviously longs for her is cute?? After he cheated on her and never fully committed and let her suffer in silence and never said ily back except in a song like wait what?? It's totally fine and okay that he continually disrespects her existence as a woman with needs and desires that asked for the bare minimum and just acts like she was a home he'd always have the key to or like a dog waiting by the door basically an ex girlfriend who'd always have him back even if he couldn't get it right the first second third or fourth time if she hadn't put a stop to it like how can there be fans of this relationship almost a decade after it ended I've seen the videos I've seen the interactions she's such a kind human being and he's so grimy for the way he still feeds into these theories and probably his own feelings but couldn't ever commit to an actual relationship don't you think that hurts her to see don't you think she sits awake thinking what the fuck could she have done differently when the honest answer is nothing bc he's never going to grow up and he needs to keep it to himself and stop being a selfish asshole it's just crazy how low the standard is for these men who are famous

And don't get me started on that horrible witch and the other girl who is on thin ice in my eyes for always feeding the theories that she was in relationships with them when she's tried as politely as possible to emphasize that she is not bisexual or a lesbian if she was she'd be out and proud anyone who is a real fan and respects her and the words she says and the music she puts out would be able to read that and these delusional theories these women feed into drives me insane why would they do that to what was once a good friend of theirs?? Encouraging people to undermine her and her stance and the validity of her identity? When did that become okay? Stop calling her homophobic for not being what you wanted and stop giving that horrible model who was a horrible friend the time of day she's literally riding off the coattails of this insane theory while being safely in her stupid castle with her HUSBAND like give me a break it doesn't affect her at all

Meanwhile we have our girl out here fighting for her life she can't use social media anymore normally she can't make posts or like things without a million and one different analysis' and theories about what it means and people interpreting it however the voices in their head tells them to like don't you think she's tired of feeling separated from the general public and being unable to step outside or go online? And if she made a fake account it would be found immediately bc the fans are insane and they can't leave her be everything's become a clue and something to entertain us rather than just a normal person consuming media the way the rest of us do no she's apparently not allowed that privilege bc her music is too good and she's too pretty 😐

I'm not gonna name names or use tags bc I've seen how this goes I've seen the arguments I've seen everything that goes down in this fandom and I vibe with the good that comes from her and the way she connects with fans I love it makes my brain feel less abnormal bc she gets it most of her fans get it everything is connected there are no coincidences really I love that I love Mastermind as a concept as a song and as a part of who she is but the fans really put her in these boxes and play w her identity like an American girl doll and I refuse to fight anyone on this I just had to say it and get it off my chest bc shit I can't imagine why so many people have so little standards when it comes to men but don't put that on her she's thriving she's finally being put first and celebrated the way she should be and I pray she is truly happy bc she deserves it I grew up on her music I left the same time a lot of millennials did after this Era originally came about and I regret my opinions and choices and judgment I was wrong I would apologize if I'd ever said anything that she could've known or heard but she's a big name and luckily it's unlikely but I'm a fan and I appreciate everything she has given from her heart and soul and God will bless her path that's what I want and I hope the desires of her heart are for her and that's it that's all

beauty and pain

a rough draft for a much longer, much smarter essay to be published later.

Beauty is Pain: A Rumination on Women’s Hidden Suffering

“Beauty Is Pain,”

That’s what my best friend’s mom told me as a she sprayed my already rigid Prom hair with Aquanet a third time. I had been coughing for what felt like ten minutes, and my heels were a half size too small. But none of that mattered, according to Mrs. Hall. So long as I looked beautiful, my pain was unimportant. Or worse, it was even expected.

Women are taught from an early age to expect pain. Whether it be through periods, schoolyard tuants, or what have you, pain is expected. If a boy hurts you, pulls your hair, trips you on your last lap of the relay race, he must have a crush on you. Why else would he want to hurt you so badly?

Pain is persistent, expected, and prevelant for a woman’s everyday life. We must learn to accept it, expect it, but never show it.

Why must our pain be expected yet completely ignored?

“Women are born with Pain built in,” she syas, “it is our physical destiny: period pains, sore boobs, childbirth, you know. We carry it it within ourselves throughout our lives, men don’t.”

Our pain is inevitable, expected, but it also must be hidden. Beauty is Pain.

I think about my mother’s pain. How she carries within her the pain of her mother, and I too carry within myself my mother’s pain and her mother’s pain.

In her book the Postcard, Anne Berest describes the ways she carries her grandmother’s pain along with her mother’s pain. Physically, women experience the deepest levels of pain.

“I have borne thirteen children, and seen most all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother's grief, none but Jesus heard me! And ain't I a woman?” Sojourner Truth

But this essay isn’t about pitting men and women’s pain against each other like a contest, a poorly-timed pissing contest for whose got it worse. This essay is simply a recognition that women’s pain must remain hidden, it must remain inevitable, and if you are going to suffer, make sure to do it beautifully. Beauty is Pain.

Is Pain what makes a woman? A woman’s ability to suffer beautifully, to cry prettily, and always search for the nearest man for a shoulder to lean. Is this what makes a woman? Beauty is pain.

To be a woman is to suffer beautifully; make your pain palatable, your tears digestible, your grief gorgeous. Beauty is pain.

Is this where I leave you? Standing in a mirror, fixing your hair, wiping your tears, adjusting your makeup. What do we do with this recognition that we are not allowed, as women, to exist in our world without a persistent notion of beauty, at the expense of your suffering.

But we persist. We must change how we let ourselves feel. Scream! Sob! Not pretty, glistening tears you daintily wipeoff with an index finger. No, cry those ugly, snotty tears that make your face blotchy and your throat unbearably sore.

This doesn’t mean we act like “Karen’s” and try and disrupt everyone else’s peaceful days. By no means! It simply means that we allow ourselves to be human. We are not perfect. We are not all deliciously dead paintings in a museum, preserving our pretty pain for the foreseeable future. We must carry our pain, and our beauty, and first regard ourselves as human beings.

We are not figurines or ornaments, created to decorate every room we walk into. We are living, breathing, messy human beings. We have tears in our eyes and cellulite on our legs and dirt underneath our nails.

And we are worthy.

We are worthy of experiencing the wide range of human emotions, and sharing in them the exact moment we feel them. Not bottling them up and placing a beautiful bow on top as if to say Here I Am, yes I’m sad but its alright! I’ve got it all under control and no one is going to even notice the ways I sink my nails so deep into my palms I bleed!

No! We are allowed to feel everything as deeply as we need to in the exact moment we can. Punch the guy in the face for all I care! Just do what is right for you, not what’s pretty.

Beauty is pain. Pain is inevitable. But our pain does not have to be palatable. It does not need to pretty.

Our pain can simply exist, in all its ravenous, capricious forms.

Shatter || Matayan (OC)

Matayan looks at the arson before them. It’s chaos, and it’s everything that his past lives had lived through. It’s not supposed to be a surprise to them, but somehow it is. This is a school, one that had promised something safe and secure for them all, protecting them. It had a no violence policy, which is more than the battlefields that they’ve lived through in countless times before.

No, not countless. 

Eight hundred and fifty five times filled with suffering.

And now, eight hundred and fifty six. 

If they look, really look and listen, they can hear the screaming from inside the place. It’s violent, whatever those beasts had done in this school.

However, to an extent Matayn can’t help but feel… nothing. A dull nothing. The place is looming with beasts that they just know for certain that this was all made by the hands of the people suffering right then and there. 

These monsters took their friends, and it made them into the beasts. This was rightful vengeance. This was justice.

Matayan stands stockstill as the students rush pass them, some bump at them, some shoves them back. They’re trying to take them with the crowd escaping, 

They stay, though, and watch.

Their eyes draw towards the stained glass windows that they’d once marvelled at. Thought it to be the pinnacle of human artistry, hope for mortals whose lives were so small in the grandscale of things but were a sustained effort towards making things beautiful.

The image used to be that of a bird, and the sun, and of life and the marvelous glory that being human was. Things that were temporary, the day, the clouds, things that didn’t last for eternity. Grass and nature and life. It was so glorifying of human nature. It was so beautiful

It isn’t beautiful anymore. The tempered, stained glass windows are burning, the colors turning to char as it turns ugly. 

True to the subject it tried to represent, the stained glass windows, burning black and brown and bubbling at the surface the fire licks, had changed. Had gone. Ephemeral, in a way.

The crowd running from the building scream in both unison and discord when the window shatters from the pressure of the temperature. Matayan shields themself from it–

But it cuts a scar down his eye, at the surface. They gasp, feeling the blood run from his right eye– it isn’t damaged. There is some mercy, but it is bleeding profusely. 

A student, one they recognize, approach him quickly. She places both hands on their shoulders, looking at them with wide-eyed concern. Matayan blinks, looking up at her.

They realize that she’s speaking to him–

“--Kid! Matayan, are you okay!?” She says, and she’s shaking him by the shoulders as if trying to get his attention. 

They nod, wordlessly. 

The girl is slightly relieved, but the concern is evident still. “We have to go, okay? We have to get out of here-!”

Matayan tilts his head. “What about–”

“No, they’re– they’ll be okay.” She says. “We have to go, you hear me? I’ll come back, but we have to get you safe.” 

With that, she grabs them by the hand and leads the both of them to safety. Matayan Looks back, one eye shut out of both pain and the bleeding. 

The stain glass window is gone. Shattered.

It really says something about the humans that these deities oh so adore.

here's to being human

all the pain and suffering

there's beauty in the bleeding

at least you feel something

Since I feel like trying something new, like a director’s commentary but in writing, I wanted to talk about my new little story “I want you to come and say everything to me”, though I may do for You Go whenever you go here, which I am pretty long in thoughts in my A03.

It is very funny, because I feel like that story is an evolution of what I am working on for the past projects: like ‘You go Whenever you Go” and ‘To Enchanted Lands and Beyond.”, allowing such romanticism from To enchanted Lands, and yet feeling human aspects of growing up- which is to find your inner voice amidst societal perceptions like my canon divergence Riku in YGWYG

So today I am gonna talk about the influences of that story and how I shaped it!- First up Dance Fever!! ❀。* ₊°。 ❀°。❀。 ₊°。 ❀°。❀。 *₊°。 ❀°。

Florence + The Machine: Dance Fever

-Yes all hail King Florence Welch- I have been listening to Florence + The Machine since I battled with painful lung infection a few years back, as a way to cope with the pain I have from staying at home, and being shitty about myself on why I suffered (I say How Big How Blue How Beautiful helped me to express my tumultuous relationship with my ex-boss, seeing that truth and being ruled- I would say Queen of Peace, and What kind of Man were my anthems until that album)

So Dance Fever came to me like last February with her single “King” which was such a bop, and I am like ooooohhh new music from King Florence.

So it was ‘My Love’ that really sealed the deal for me, as I was coping with the grief of an ex colleague ghosting on me-I played that song too religiously everytime it is on my spotify or my old-ass iPod. It has painful lyrics wise, but the music is upbeat (Similar to Mitski’s Laurel Hell, which I liked)

She released her tagline of her album as ‘A fairytale in 14 songs’ which is such a cool premise as Florence said about a woman and her relationship with ‘performing’, which deal with societal pressures and all. And I think that story dealt with that expectations of others and how to break away is felt through in this story

In fact I chatted with Danica that one of her songs “Dream Girl Evil”, was my theme song for Midoriko when she shared her head canon on how they met, which I wrote the idea of the field, bopping to that song over and over again, which bleeds through the story which Midoriko do not want to be perceived as that ‘goddess’ and ‘holy’ figure but a human, and yet she is planted to that perception, the lyric- “I am no Mother, I am no Bride, I am king” is bled into Kirinmaru calling Midoriko his king-not only adding to the fairytale aspect of it, but it is subverting gender roles which is fitting for our couple, ‘My Love’ fits all of the emptiness Kirinmaru felt being trapped by all.

It was that strange little fairytale-esque album which bleeds through the whole story, which you can see in its veins, which I hope you get to listen to it.