OHHHH!! WRITE THAT DOWN!! WRITE THAT DOWN!!!

“Good. It reminds me that I am…”

I trail off, hesitant to say alive. If there is no death, is there really life? A breath no longer holds the same weight to me that I once did. Not after gaining this immortal stretch, this breath of eternity. A breath is simply a creature comfort to me now, I could live without it and simply bask in the aching, screaming burn of lungs without the air that was once so vital for survival, but I opt to breathe both out of habit and for comfortability.

She shakes her head at me, frowning. I know that it scalds her, ruffles her, that her “gift” to me has been met with such an abundance of bitterness. But she stole me away, forced me to watch all the people I loved slowly age and slip away. She stole my golden years, trapped eternally in the body of a young adult may seem like a gift, but jobs begin to be difficult to attain when your resume doesn’t match your face. To say the least about the pain of immortality.

As the child grows, I bask in their light and their warmth, loving them as if they are my own. Their life, 98 years, was a lengthy stretch of time for most humans, but for me, it felt like a blink. Over far too soon, and like all the other losses, this one destroys me. My heart torn out, my lungs aching, and again, she returns.

“I told you this would hurt.”

“Please.” All I need to say, she knows what I’m begging for.

Scoffing, she leaves me, crumbled at the rubble of the alter of my place of worship. The alter to my God that I was raised in. The God that she ripped me away from, barring me from the eternity that I had longed for. She took my family, took my faith, and gave me no hope of escape from this agonizing existence, and expects me to grovel and worship her every breath as if I was given a gift, not punished for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

So the cycle begins again, spiting her with my every thought. Every fiber of my being dedicated to being an eternal thorn and embarrassment. I find the weak, the helpless, the fearful, the abandoned, and I love them. Help them, protect them, and when she warns me of my impending pain, I spit at her warnings. I dive in and love just as much and as unwaveringly as I did when I was human, like I haven’t felt the agony of the impending loss a million times.

For every time she has chosen to be a harbinger of agony, of suffering and pain, I chose to be one of love, of happiness and hope. I will until the world rots around us and the gods and forsaken immortals are all that remain, or until she decides to unmake me, going back to my conception and unraveling my DNA as it begins its formation, so that my handprint can never mark history.

Her fierce and evil face contorts in fury each time I smile in anyone’s direction. But it’s only natural. Only natural for us to be at odds, for her to hate me so.

Her hideous name is Hate, and I have and will always worship at the alter of love.

The abandoned child you’ve taken in sleeps on your lap as the god who gave you immortality softly warns you. “This will hurt.”

Keith may be hot headed, angry and mean, but he’s also scared. Hurt. Vulnerable. They’re going through some crazy and scary shit, and he had been dealing with his on crazy, scary shut prior to it, and had more and more heaped on top.

me when i see someone reduce keith's entire character to being hotheaded angry and mean

Guys. GUYS

in 2022 i was thinking about a gyjo au in which they were in a rock band called balls of steel and today i felt like revisiting it

I’m about to write something so fuckin sad…

I would die for Missouri. I just needed to put that energy into the world. I love her so so so much.

They really pulled no punches

And Missouri was a psychic. She KNEW

And so, to protect man, and to save yourself the grief, you set up a shop selling blood treats. But you don’t use your own blood. No, that’s far too dangerous, and you’re far too afraid of having your blood drawn. So you turn to the cultures of the world that offer blood based treats and cuisines. Gathering many professionals, you create a unique, peculiar tea house, Bloody Immortali-tea, a tea house that serves almost exclusively blood based foods and the occasional blood infused tea. That way, those hoping to make good on a long-storied folly can safely feast on all the blood they could desire, and see that their foundation of hope were built on the sands of deceit, all while allowing you to keep your blood in your veins, and only in your veins.

You are an immortal, having to deal with the rather troublesome rumour that your blood grants immortal life. However, what those after your blood don’t know is that since you can’t die, you are an excellent host to several deadly bacteria and viruses-all existing peacefully in your blood.

Currently have like 7 wips like this that I cannot figure out to save my life 😭

You wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me

gofundme post ❤️

thank you again for your patience. as always, any reblogs are incredibly helpful, any donation is greatly appreciated, and i will never *expect* anyone to help.

i hope everyone is doing well

gofundme.com

Donate to my family navigate homelessness and find housing, organized by bridget baskin

Hi! I’m Bridget, you might know me as raisins. Myself and my 74 year o… bridget baskin needs your support for my family navigate homelessnes

Do you ever feel like bleak and just so fucking tired and rundown and idk… cynical? Maybe defeated is the right word? By the world, so much so that you wish you could shut your eyes and yell “lalalalalala I can’t hear you!!!!” Like you’re 6 years old again and your little brother is trying to tell you that mom said it’s his turn to swing on the swing? And then you see something. And it reminds you that complacency is guilt, even support, in the face of evil. And your thrust back into the world, but you don’t know how to do anything to help and even when you so it doesn’t seem like enough and it doesn’t feel like it matters and you just wanna go back into the little room of pretty things and beautiful songs and ignore the secret outings raising money for “the cause” and- but you must keep going because you know deep down it’s the right thing to do even if you feel like Sisyphus and you feel like nothing will change and your scared and sore and tired and battered and bruised but timidly hopeful and determined and-

Idk.