Original Works - Blog Posts

Hallelujah

Is there truly a religion?

I always question myself about my religion.

What do I believe in? At first I thought I was catholic but in reality my relatives practiced the orthodox religion and pushed me to do the same. Then my grandpa believed in the muslim theories and my father too. My mother claimed to be an orthodox. As time passed by, she realised something very strange; all religions believe in one thing: God. And it is true.

My family’s culture in fact is pagan. My hometown’s population was and still is based in paganism. We are patriotic and we believe in our town. We believe that there’s a God but we don’t practice religions. Perhaps, we never had a religion. Conquests influenced our population and culture, imposing a new emphasis of social differences and new words on our language. Our language was and still is un religious. It’s hard to believe I know, but that’s how it is. In our language the only thing we had was “God”.

That’s why I don’t have a faith. Or perhaps, my only faith is my consciousness.

Was it all a way to fool people’s mind from finding out the truth of Earth’s origins and history?

Or was it all true?

I just know that I don’t believe in any religion. I believe in God and myself.

Do I respect other religions and faiths or beliefs? Of course I do. Who am I to neglect their existence? I shall respect but not only, I ought to study them because their historical behaviors amaze our provenience. We are human beings that without religions’ existence we wouldn’t know what we are.

Is there more to know about our existence? Of course there is.

Do they want us to know about them? Of course not. You’d be a fool to believe otherwise.

And why, when I listen to Jeff Buckley’s song, I feel deeply touched? I am uncertain.

Is art somehow connected to religion?

Or is God connected to art?

It’s completely complicated. How can a mere person come and claim to know how to respond to these questions? Are you that much of a fool to think that we are allowed to ask of this thematics?

Nonetheless, I will continue praying at difficult times.

Thunder only comes when it’s raining.

Recap: Katerina Angel Kennedy or “Arrow” is a Texan patriotic girl that loves her few friends and having fun with them during their high school years. She will handle a lot of pain and difficult situations in her life but her friends will always be there for her. We don’t know but maybe some new relationships will start and some old relationships will end.

Tw: #attempt suicide #depressing thoughts #depressive character #toxic friend #heartbroken character #substance use #drug use #weed mention #weed use #reefer character

Part 1

And I screamed.

Her POV:

High school boys just give me the ick. They’re disgusting.

I only have some high school guy friends and they’re kind of different from the others. I have Benny, Don, Slater, Tony, Mike and Kevin. There are other guys in my school but I don’t really talk to them, like I say “hi how are ya” and that’s it.

Benny is my best friend since kindergarten. Our parents are friends and every where I go he is there. I used to have a weird crush on him ( I still don’t get why I liked him in 8th grade but thank god I don’t like him anymore ). But we are really close to each other. I know everything about him, and vice versa.

Don instead is kinda my big brother that I’ve never had. Being an only child, he thought I felt lonely so he always stayed with me. He is sweetly overprotective of me, and it’s obvious that he loves me. Don’t get any idea! This is all platonic and he is an enormous play boy. I don’t know how Shannon likes him. Ew.

Slater is my reefer friend. My bestie. The one who makes me feel comfortable whenever I smoke blunts or weed. Kevin too. Pickford tho is the hottest of the whole world. Like man how can I smoke weed and not confess my love to you-

Tony and Mike are my friends and they are literally the only ones I can have a decent conversation with.

Now getting to the main point. I’m a picky person. If I want to have friends, I study them before having that intimate relationship with them. Instead the girls are a different subject. I talk to all of them. Even if some of them are bitches, I still respect and adore them.

The one who I seriously can’t stand at this school is Pink. He thinks that he can fool every girl in this school or in this town. Fuck off man. Arrogant son of a bitch. (I actually respect his mother very much.)

I hate him because one day he wanted to kiss me. Bro had never talked to me before and one day he thinks he can fucking kiss me? Nahhhhh man you got the wrong girl. I fucking slapped him. And since then we had this mutual hate relationship.

Another person that I “hate” is David Wooderson. He actually isn’t in our school anymore. And he is older than all of us.

He was my first and only true love. He was my first kiss.

We were very close friends. At the beginning I used to get weed from him and from then we just clicked. He would always meet with me, stay with me, smoke with me, go to parties with me, hang out with me and on and onnnnnnn. God damn. He was the best guy I had ever met. He was my true AND ONLY LOVE. But all of a sudden he started acting weird.

Everytime I used to hang out with Benny or Slater, Wood would always get upset. He would say things like “You don’t hang out with me anymore” or would straight up act mad at me. I didn’t know if he was jealous or something. But still, that doesn’t justify his behavior. Yes we had kissed before. As a joke. And yes, I loved him. But he didn’t know this. I’ve always been jealous of the times he hung out with girls. He was a fucking player, god damn he’s still a player. And yet, I never behaved like that. So, one day after I was out with Benny at his house, I go to meet Wood at his place. I knock at his door. He opens it after a long time, and I see him with disheveled hair, no shirt on, and a naked girl behind him. And he says : “Who tf are ya, man?”

I didn’t even respond. I turned around and went away.

That day I had thought of fucking killing myself. I felt so heartbroken and I felt treated like a fucking toy. I got back home. I had cried all the road to my house. Once up to my bed room, I couldn’t fucking breath anymore. He had been treating me like shit for like forever and I had always respected him because he was my friend. I had his my feelings from everyone for three years because I didn’t want to break the relationship I had with him. And he treats me like shit?

I was panicking. I was in shock and so tired of life. I got up and started searching for weed but I didn’t have any. Or i couldn’t find any, I don’t know. But I remember going downstairs to the phone and calling Slater. He answered and I was crying and saying how I so needed weed and I couldn’t find any. He was so worried behind the phone, I could only imagine his confusion.

After not getting any solution to my problem, still crying and panicking I closed the phone.

I got to the kitchen and I was searching for something that even I didn’t know what. I get a knife from a drawer and I don’t know but I think I stabbed myself with it. And I screamed. I cried and I screamed.

I don’t know what happened after that. But I know that when I woke up, in front of me was Slater. He was fucking crying and on the phone. He was saying something but I couldn’t hear anything. I was dazy as shit.

After that day, I was a different person. Slater got closer to me. And he was always worried but I indulged to drugs and weed, getting my mind out of shit.

I started picking the friends I hung out with and the things I did. I couldn’t trust anyone anymore. And David Wooderson was nothing to me.

Only Slater knows what happened between me and Wood. All the others don’t know a thing. Or i think so. Slater might have told to Benny something about it because I noticed how Benny started ignoring Wood and talking about him.

How can a girl go through so much and still be alive? Only God knows it.

Katerina “Arrow” :

Zodiac incense sticks.

I feel unsteady, like my mind.

Rosé wine is sweet with such a pretty color. Every night there's a glass of it on the table accompanying me while I'm taking a bath. I've definitely got everything I need at night. Jeff Buckley's voice soothes me deeply, helping me to relax my body in the warm water. As a matter of fact, when I'm at this time of the day I don't think of anything at all, really. So even now I close my eyes and start dreaming.

My baby boy has come to me, opening up to me and confessing every single problem he has to me.

I'm waiting for him with my arms wide open. He lays his head on my breast and starts silently whimpering.

I just love it when he cries in my arms. I love it when he is vulnerable in front of my eyes, in my presence. Because, it's me he seeks help from. And I am always here to give it to him. What can a woman do when her man comes back home destryoed from the army?

I don't cook for him. In truth, I don't even know how to properly cook. That's a long story for another day.

Without him having gotten in our neighborhood, I just feel his presence. I immediately get out of the hosue and wait for him at my frontyard. I look at his car from afar. I listen to the sound of his car and just that brings shivers to the back of my neck. He sees me waiting for him and impatiently speeds up his pace.

Oh, how much he has changed.

He stops his car in front of me and rapidly gets out of the car. He comes up to me and looks down at me. I study his face and his body. I inhale his musty, masculine perfume. What a bliss that brings into my belly. I instantly got the heebie jeebies.

Looking up at him I notice that he's got tears in his eyes. All my nervousness disappears and I wrap my hands around his body.

I could never get tried of his affection. Or of his beautiful voice. Or of his body. Of anything really.

This is never over.

Thank you for reading this. I'm really grateful of my inspiration that always comes from Jeff Buckley, Jim Morrison, Nirvana or Aerosmith. It is really hard to write sometimes because I've had too many ideas lately and I didn't really have the guts to organze them. But, I tried nonetheless.

hope you enjoyed this!!!!

K.M.

Bang bang

I hit the ground.

He lighted his cigarette and looked at me.

“Ya want sum?” he said to me. I nodded and he leisurely passed it to me.

I sighed as I smoked it. “I’ve never felt like this before.” I said.

“How so?”

“Seasons change you know? I change. I’m not the same. I never thought I’d start smoking cigarettes.”

He looked at me and took the cigarette outta my hand. “What do you mean exactly?”

Staring at the parking lot, I explained: “You know that I did weed and that shit but never nicotine. My father did it all the fucking time. Man was so crazy for it that whenever we’d tell him to quit smoking he would make empty promises. Hated him for that. Lied to us for all his life. And that’s how it brought me to hate nicotine.” looking back at him, I see him already staring at me. “Now, I smoke it once in a while. Should I be ashamed?”

He got a long hit and then answered: “Nah, doll. Look. When I was five, I used to stay at my pops and I knew that he always had a gun somewhere hidden in the house. Every Sunday I’d hear bangs coming from the backyard. In the morning I’d see dry blood in the yard. This went on for three years. None stop. And I never questioned my father’s decisions. But oh, how did I hate him for making them. Guess we all went through sumthin that traumatized us.”

I stared at him and hesitantly asked him “Do you still hear the bangs?”

He sadly smirked and looked up to the sky while responding to me with: “I hear Bang Bang every Sunday night. And I wake up scared to find dried blood in the backyard.”

I curiously asked: “Didn’t you even have the urge to ask him why he did that?”

“Of course I did, doll. I knew I’d get a beating because of it so I shut my mouth, forced my eyes closed and pushed myself to sleep with the bangs.”

I slowly slid to him and hugged him tightly. “I’m so sorry, Wood. Why did you have to go through all that at such a young age?”

“One of us should suffer in this life babe. And God said it was my turn. Gotta accept it doll. Now don’t get sad because of me” He tilted his head down to take a look at me and he saw the tears that were shedding from my eyes. I sadly looked back at him and said: “You’re my baby boy. I love you. With my whole heart.”

“I love you Doll.”

Hey y'all,

I'm willing to beta-read fanfics and original works. So, if you're interested message me here on Tumblr, on AO3 @animekitkat24601 or on Fanfiction.net @Maplesong of TreeClan.

Years have passed, and you no longer write letters to Santa, but still the peculiar, one of a kind gifts keep arriving. The gifts range from opulent jewelry that has a tendency to grow warm, and sometimes even white-hot, at random intervals to small seemingly custom-made stuffed animals of nightmarish creatures turned cute and cuddly. Every year, six gifts come, wrapped in a glowing, reddish paper that was always warm to the touch, just for you, labeled in number order: 60-66. And every year, you and your family ponder who the gifts are from, and if your family should be concerned. This year, as you sit around the tree, the gifts arrive, as usual, but something is different. This year, each parcel of unknown origin is still wrapped with care in the same, ever warm, glowing wrapping, but this time, the boxes are numbered differently. The first is labeled 66.1, and they follow in order with the last labeled 66.6, and that one has a key tied into the center of the large box with a lavish bow. The key is an intricate skeleton key, forged in a reddish metal, blackened by either time or design. Its artfully carved handle looks alive, with its winding serpent-like design, and the gems inlaid at the center of the winding mass, that form an eye. As you go about your Christmas morning traditions, the eye seems to follow you as you bask in the joyful holiday, the ever-present gaze of the key blanketing you in a strange sense of security. Eventually, you get to the special, almost reverent, moment of privacy that you partake in every Christmas morning. You collect the six warm boxes, and bring them into your room, settling onto the lush rug that you had received from your unknown proprietor in a Christmas long since past. You murmur your thanks to the kindness of whatever stranger offers you these gifts, and sit staring at them all at once unnerved by the change, and oddly comforted by the key’s watchful eye. As you sit, your feelings about the strange gifts at odds with one another, curiosity leaps at its chance to take the reins. So, you reach out, and carefully lift the first box, drawing its warmth into your awaiting lap, fighting the urge to draw the familiar warmth into you, much like a child would with a teddy bear. Running your hands across the familiar wrapping, you find the tapeless edge, and slide your fingers under the lip. With a gentle tug the warm paper gives way, and you find the same wooden frame, carved by deft hands into arching landscapes of a far off land that no amount of research can locate. A smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you see the artistry, your fingers reliving the comforting texture of each stroke of the craftsman’s blade. Opening the box, you find the gift, as thoughtful and unique as ever, and murmur your thanks to your anonymous friend. You repeat the process, each gift just as unique and ornate as the last, until you get to 66.6. This box was different from all the others that had come before it. This box's carvings were just as unique as all the others, but the landscape on each side arched and twisted until it gave way to a castle. One with a threatening throne, and a several devastatingly gorgeous men and women perched about the thrones on each side. The box itself felt… different. Something about it made your chest ache, like a fresh heartbreak, but that pain was mixed with a yearning for something you couldn't quite place. Before opening the box, you survey the gifts bestowed on you by your mysterious benefactor.

Should I continue this? Because I definitely have more planned… (read written) I just hit the text limit hehehe…

When you were a child, you accidentally wrote a letter to Satan instead of Santa. Now, every year for christmas you get presents from the lord of hell himself.

Was originally just a draft to keep track of my "echo('s) ____" tags. Decided I'd go ahead and make it public to make navigation easier

(I don't always tag reblogs since I don't post anything much anymore, just a heads up)

Made these for a discord server I'm in, figured tumblr might like this

*eats your art* but in two degrees of feral for your enjoyment

Credit not needed (but appreciated)

I drew my OC Shircuit and GODDAMN I regret life because this shit took 20+ HOURS AGHHHH

I cooked though, worth it 😌

FINALLY made a design for my cupid OC that i'm ACTUALLY HAPPY WITH!!!

...and then proceeded to slave for 13+ hours over my ipad rendering this

might have died a bit during the process idk

Redid an older oc of mine, everyone say hello to the lovely (ex)deity!

Surprisingly the color palette worked itself out but BELEIVE ME i was struggling

Me (blue) and my girlfriend's (red) troll sonas!! :33

... unfortunately she said she might redesign her's RIGHR after i drew this TwT

Introducing... FalsifYeR! A virus based oc that really, really likes bright colors. and clicking on suspicious ads..

i had fun with just going ham on all the bright details :3 the window she's sitting on needs work tho