This entity only appears when the family sword is ready to change hands, regardless if it already has.
~Fun Fact: I have a tattoo based on this wrapped around my left arm
Chapter 3
human m.list
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Word count: 932
A/N: it's been a while since my last chapter of human, i hope you enjoy this one! it's a little longer than normal, which i am happy about, hopefully, i can make longer chapters more normal in this story. this chapter also centers around Ami, i wasn't intending on making it a story that centered on different people, but i feel like it works better this way. happy reading!
trigger warning: mentions of depersonalization, night terrors/ nightmares, brief toxic parenting (seriously tho, fuck Ami's parents), mentions of panic and fear and swearing, adult themes in general.
remember you control the media you consume, if you think this might be triggering in any way, don’t read it, your mental health comes first.
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Far too often Ami was tormented with nightmares, they weren’t your typical nightmares with scary ghosts and goblins, spiders with hundreds of eyes, witches that cursed you to eternal damnation. No these dreams tortured her because they were all too real. Her breath trembled as she sat up in bed, her breathing shaky. Ami felt unreal, the hand that was groping for the light switch didn’t feel right and when the room illuminated she waited, one beat, two beats, three beats. “Please be safe,” she whispered into the empty space in front of her. “Please be safe, please be safe,” she repeated, her jelly-like legs taking small steps as if searching for sanctuary. Please be safe. Ami didn’t believe in a god but she still prayed every night when she felt the cold feel of terror sweep up her body. The wish carried her to the bathroom, where she leaned against the sink and splashed herself with cold water. Breathing in the air around her, she tried to feel alive in her body again. As her back sagged against the light blue of the wall, she was hit by the force of feeling real. It scared her. Ami didn’t want to be real, she wanted to be wrapped in a blanket and thrown into the starry sky, where she never had to exist ever again. Because existing came with expectations and she hated those. Everything Ami wasn’t good at she hated, which is why she gave up trying new things long ago. “Please be safe,” she told the person she saw in the mirror. That person just stared back, too far gone. Ami squirmed, she didn’t like feeling real. That meant the person she wanted to be wasn’t. Ami cried until the dawn rose, casting a golden shadow on her frame, and turning her teardrops into a rainbow.
“Wake up! Wake up!” a little voice chirped, “Come on, Ami, hurry up! You’ll miss it!
“Cami, hasn’t anyone ever taught you to knock before you enter?” Ami’s mother stood at the door, two mugs in her hand, and a towel on her shoulder. Every time Ami saw her mother she envied her, she envied the way her face looked, even after 56 years of use it still glowed with the innocence of a child. But she was anything but innocent. A bystander is just a bad as a bully.
“Nope!” was Cami’s response, Ami snickered. “Now come on Ami!, please please please!”
“You go ahead, I’ll be there in a second okay Camsters?” Cami had earned that nickname ever since he had loudly announced that his favorite food was hamsters, completely mixing up ham and the guinea pig like-animal. Ami never let him live that down. The 9-year-old raced out the room, nearly knocking into a vase before making it safely outside.
“Tsh, that kid’s wife is gonna have a tough time, isn’t she, Ami?
Ami shrugged, it hadn’t been 3 seconds and already her mom was pointlessly gendering life. If Ami had any sense she would’ve just nodded. But she evidently wanted another fight.
“How do you know he’s gonna have a wife?” She fucked up. She really fucked up. Ami wasn’t stupid, she saw how her moms’ eyes flashed. She saw the anger. She saw the disappointment. She saw the suspicion.
“Did you wake up last night? I thought I heard someone scurrying around at like 3:00 am” Her mother completely dodged the question, blocking it with another and averting her eyes. Good. Ami didn’t have the energy to fight again.
“Yeah, that was me, I had another nightmare,” following her mother’s example she threw her eyes to another part of her room. Back at her messy sheets. If only Cami would burst in again, begging her to follow him so he could show her his favorite cartoon on the tv. But life was far too cruel to listen to her silent thoughts.
“Another, Ami what is this?”
Ami grimaced, it wasn’t as if she wanted to have these nightmares, she didn’t wish to wake up every other fucking night, damp with sweat and blindly filled to the brim with panic. But her mother continued.
“Maybe it was a bad decision to put you on those meds, they could be making things worse,” Ami’s mother waited for a response, when it didn’t come she went back to the dishes in her hand. She didn’t get it. She would never get it.
“The meds are the only reason I can even sleep anymore, they helped with the depersonalization. Mom, I need them, can we please not have this discussion again?”
They were getting to the point where any conversation they had ended in tears. Ami was getting tired of being the one who was always crying.
“I’m not sure, I don’t think so,” she said
Ami sighed, this was exasperating, the constant back and forth, the constant doubt and disbelief. “Yeah, okay, you think I’m doing this for attention, you think my medication doesn’t work, you think I’m making a mountain out of a molehill. Well save it, I’m tired, I’m done. It’s almost time for work, don’t expect me for dinner,” Ami grabbed her jacket, her bag, and her keys, she didn’t look back to see if her mother was angry, dumbfounded, or again, disappointed. She was done letting that bitch control her. “Bye Camsters, see you later,” planted a kiss on his curly mess of hair and walked out the door. Boundaries were important, and she was sick of letting people cross them just because they called themselves family.
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taglist: @motskkyu, @jootskoot
(don’t hesitate to message me if you want to be added to the taglist of this story, so you’ll be notified the next time i put out another chapter!)
♡ Get to know me! ♡:
Hi guys! My name is Jahmeeyah (Jah for short 💕). I’m a 19 y.o. artist 🎨🖌🌈👩🏾🎨, writer ✏️, and dreamer 🌌. She/her and Bi 💗💜💙. My birthday is March 31st ♈️. My sign is: Aries ♈️☀️, Scorpio 🌙♏️, Capricorn ⬆️♑️. My life path number is 11/2. My personality type is INFP 2w3.
My favorite colors are pink 💗, red ❤️, and violet 💜. I love all kinds of art 🖼 , painting 🎨🖌, drawing ✏️, aesthetics 💖, knitting 🧶🧣, baking cookies 🍪🍪🍪💞, music 🎵🎶💜, flowers 🌸🌷🌺🌼🌻🌹, animals 🐶🐱🐰🐼🐴, astrology, candles 🕯🕯, rainy days 🌧☔️, warm hugs 🤗🫂, taking warm baths 🛁, taking photos of nature 📸🍃🌲🌈🦋, and watching movies!
My favorite food is pizza 🍕, tacos 🌮, strawberry & vanilla ice cream 🍧🍦, cinnamon rolls 🍩💕, and chocolate 🍫.
My favorite tv shows are Inuyasha ❤️, Sailor Moon 🌙💖, Powerpuff Girls 💚💗💙, Teen Titans, Code Lyoko, and Moral Orel.
My favorite movies are Grave of the Fireflies (1988), My Neighbor Totoro (1988), Lion King (1994), Pocahontas (1995), the Powerpuff Girls Movie (2002), Persepolis (2007), Ponyo (2008), and The Tale of The Princess Kaguya (2013).
My favorite book is Blacksad
My favorite games are Sakura School Simulator, and Yandere Simulator
My dream is to fall in love 😍, be an art therapist 🎨❤️ and children’s author 📚, and live in a little cottage with a beautiful garden in a forest 🏠🌸🌷🌻🌺🌼🌹🌲.
If u want to talk, feel free to message me ❤️! I’m shy 🙈, but I luv to talk 😊💕💕💕
Luv u all !! ❤️💋❤️💋❤️💋
From Here
What if we just
start with
where we are
and who we are,
not all the things
that we are not?
-J.Wool, Soul Whispers
All writing belongs to me.
I should tell you to fuck off.
But I stay silent and die with resentment.
I haven’t chipped away at my YA WIP in about 5 days, ughh... sometimes I just get such tremendous anxiety working on it, and then I’m shell-shocked and end up not making any progress on it for, like, a week. I might’ve mentioned this before, but my poetry book is a LOT easier for me to write. I tend to approach poems almost like diary entries--and as such, they flow out of me very easily, very naturally, because they serve as mini time capsules of whatever my particular state of mind was when they were written.
The WIP, however, will have me on my ASS, lol. I get so hyper-fixated on every minute detail, word choice, sentence structure, all of it, all of it, ALL OF IT. But recently I’ve been using music to help the process/help get me out of my head and focus on the rhythm of the piece, rather than the finer details that can be cleared up in editing. It’s helped me a LOT, but I still find the process kinda daunting + scary.
But I’m gonna push myself this evening. I’m gonna sit down and write this damn thing and kick its ass. Pray for me, lol.
Time is a trickster; the ticking clock: its vicious heart. It impregnates. It destroys. It heals. It unravels. It dons the skin of an imposter in the coldest stretch of night: a magician weaving fantasies that sear. Neutralize. Inspire. Though I wonder-- I worry-- are the days too long? Are the nights too dim and fleeting? Do I dance through each crescendo in a lurid, patchwork nightmare? Or are my dreams so full of pain, that soon, I'll shatter beneath them and finally wake up?
- Bri Stokes, 2021.
Imma bout to play a game called ‘every time I cringe while editing my first draft I drink water’ needless to say I’m about to be so fucking hydrate.
Born For This
The world
wants nothing
More than
To smother
You into
Silence,
But that
Is not why
You were
Born a poet.
You feel
So much
Because
You were
Born to
express it,
not bury it.
It flows
Through you
As naturally
As a breath;
However,
Silencing it
Can push
You right off
The edge
Into a shadowed
Darkness.
There is always
This strange
Balance
Even to
Art itself.
We must feel it
And release it.
This is what
We are born
for,
So don’t
Forget to
Set it free
Because
That is how
You open
The cage
Up and set
Your soul
Free.
-J.Wool
All writing belongs to me.
I wish I didn't think about you.
I wish I didn't care about you .
But yet I do.
It's sickening to want you.
When you never cared.
When you were never there.
You weren't there when I was healing.
Scars I made myself.
You weren't there when my therapist told me.
There is something wrong in my head.
It's sickening to want.
Something you never had.
Something you saw on tv.
Father's dancing with their daughters.
Father's giving loving words to their daughters.
Father's fighting to protect their daughters.
You were and always will be a ghost.
Something that one day was a father figure.
When I was inside my mother.
And transformed itself into a nightmare.
When I came into the world.
You wanted a daughter.
Perfect for your pictures.
You didn't want me.
The daughter who is sick , fat , and has curly hair.
It's okay, dad.
I'm not crying anymore.
At least not because of you.
--
Like and reblog.
So many things
we should say,
that we never say
and those are the
very same things that
keep us awake.
-J.Wool, Thoughts Aloud
Ahhh! I’ve reached 70 followers! And I started this blog a little under 10 days ago! Thank you so much for all of the kind words and support you’ve sent my way since I joined this lovely little community of readers and writers. Everyone here is truly so sweet, warm, welcoming, and talented. I love reading your stuff, I love getting your messages and notifications, and I love seeing the way everyone on this corner of the Internet collectively supports their fellow creatives. That is a RARITY to find online these days. Tumblr is awesome.
I truly couldn’t be more grateful for each and every one of you! <3
Resurfacing
sometimes
you have to sink
below the surface
and let your survival
instincts kick in
to remember how
to swim
-J.Wool
All writing belongs to me.
Revelations of Divine Love of Julian of Norwich - women in history (27/?) + manuscripts (7/?)
Just because I am a woman, must I therefore believe that I must not tell you about the goodness of God, when I saw at the same time both his goodness and his wish that it should be known?
(You can see this quote in the part above the blue initial)
In the late 14th century the anchoress and mystic Julian of Norwich was striving to be heard when she said "Just because I am a woman". Julian addressed the structural inequality which made writing so difficult in the medieval period in her work. As you can read in her own words, it was often impossible for women to be given a voice, even though women were not less capable than man. These obstacles didn't stop brave women like Julian of Norwich to write down their ideas.
Julian of Norwich wrote the first work in English which we can be sure was authored by a woman. She lived her whole life in the English city of Norwich. We don't know much more of her life. Her name Julian refers to the church of St Julian, to which she was attached as an anchoress.
Being a mystic, she wrote about visions or shewings she had in 1373 when she was heavily sick. These visions are described in the Revelations of Divine Love. Of this text are two versions. The Short Text was produced after Julian made a full recovery of an illness that almost killed her. The Long Text was a more extended version of her visions, written after Julian developed her ideas in the following decades after her illness. Her work was later preserved by others, multiple manuscripts of both versions have survived.
Literature:
Baker, Denise Nowakowski, Julian of Norwich's Showings. Princeton University Press, 2014.
Herbert McAvoy, Liz. A Companion to Julian of Norwich. Boydell and Brewer, 2008.
Mary Wellesley, "Women's voices in the medieval period" (British Library)
What Does It Look Like?…..From ‘no book’ to ‘finished book’?
Recently a fellow writer and friend asked me this question: “What does the process of going from “no book” to “finished book” look like?” My first novel, Women Outside the Walls began as a full length play. I used my play script my book outline/treatment. As the scenario was so current (because it was a play), I found that flashbacks were a great way to flesh out each woman’s story and it…
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You define my Playlist.
My playlist speaks like you. What is it you said "My Love Will Never Die", now hozier knows these lines. My eardrums are sensing his voice but the words come out of your lips.
My playlist regrets you. When I get home and you "Shy Away", Twenty One Pilots advised you, but just like "This bird has flown" in Norwegian Woods you left me singular to deal with all these prone roads to sins. Under the tree I sit synchronizes shedding leaves with my tears in this spring.
My playlist loved you. Sitting in "The Love Club", I reminisce the era when "I worshipped like a dog at the shrine of your lies", when I sang "can't take my eyes off you" because "I have nothing" but your time. Those days are imprinted wherever I walk, my earplugs are now shivering as they listen to my blood dripping into cold beside this velvety path.
My playlist had you. I called "My lover is a day", when you would shine like a sun on my window but you disappeared when the "New Moon" appeared. You were a day until you thought "Let her go" and I was in "Burn", my own hell because my eternity was constricted, my salvation was gone and betrayer liberation left me alone.
My playlist wants to forget you. My hands shake, sweat resides in my throat, my head is sore, fingers are crushed as my playlist request to delete its existence on numbers. She cries and my heart rips out, she is only for me after the necessity of you."Wish you were here" to save my playlist from this wave of pain plague, I am aware will not survive through.
~tanushree // statingeuphoria
You define my Playlist.
-tanushree // statingeuphoria
Swipe or read caption.
even the stars in
the night sky
discuss among
themselves
all of the secrets
hidden in your eyes
-J.Wool, In Your Eyes
All writing belongs to me.
