#dear anonymous

[angel-b-torture]

Dear anonymous I'm fine, thanks. But please don't use the word "baby", thank you😂✨️

[dearblr]

BLOG CHANGE HELLOOOOO :000

Sorry, I genuinely got NO notifications for any of these 💔

YES!! I'm trying to get my feelings out rather than bottle them up and I want to yk. Get better.......

Turns out that the fronter was one of those "I want so bad to be problematic" alters of ours and yk I wanted to fit in with my ex. So I'm MUCH BETTER NOW!!

[askaceattorney]

Dear Godot,

This is my normal face.

- Miles Edgeworth

[rubytalks]

Hiya, since it's Eddie's birthday I gave him a plate of air fried chicken nuggets

Ultimis: uh…think of it as a crispy sausage

[morgansmornings]

What was your response to the last time your heart was broken?

No Meme @ Anonymous ~~~*~~~

The last time her heart was broken?

Now that was something she wished she could keep locked away in the back of her mind. Left to gather dust and cobwebs the likes that she is used to seeing when she settles into her mental landscape of a towering multiple leveled museum. She walked down the dimly lit hall that was sectioned off. Fingers brushing over pedestals that held bottles of memories. Stopping at one in particular. The fragment of a moment shimmered in a just barely orange tint.

The looping scene within the bottle, was of a man with dark shaggy hair, blue eyes shifting in colour against the lighting. Steel Blue streaked just barely with a Prussian blue and rimmed the very edges of his irises. Defeat and guilt staring back at both versions of herself.

He stands at the door. He shifted the backpack that contained his current focus in life to sit better on his shoulder. Likely filled with class work from the Academy if she had to take a guess. A half turn to face her once again. Thin lips parting on a inhale, words half forming only to die once more before they could escape the cage of his teeth. She can see the self-loathing. The Regret that builds another layer on the armour that she spent so much time and effort breaking down so she could just be in his life.

A pause.

Then he is shoving the frosted glass doors of her shop open. His frame Becoming blurry as the door closes.

Then the phantom glimmer shifts and the memory repeats. Only for her, she gets sucked back into it. Reliving the time after the shadow faded from her sight. And it becomes real again.

The ache in her chest. The weight growing until she is pulled to the floor in a heap of weak muscles and heated nerve endings. Her head is cradled into her hands. Nails biting at the stands of her hair that darked her vision. The acrid taste of her own silent tears stinging her tongue as they roll into her mouth from open lips that were parted in a soundless scream. She sits there for a solid twenty nine minutes. Rocking gently in place to soothe the shattered remains of her heart. Metaphorically picking each jagged piece up one piece at a time. Leaving crimson trails in tiny pools around the mass.

Eventually she picks herself up off the floor. The Gold in her eyes now shining bright in contrast to the usual warm chocolate shade that her irises usually were. Yet it is not in joy that she feels as she goes through the motions of closing up the shop for the night. It is chilled, the lash of Winter’s mornings before a storm. Numbing the pain and pretty much anything else she senses in the meantime. Slender fingers wrapping around the orange, oil barrel shaped cup that she had crafted specifically for him. The latest present for his passing the halfway point and advancing in his studies.

The object that had started the whole fight to begin with.

Part of her wants to throw it against the brick wall and watch it shatter. A physical representation of what happened to her emotionally. Instead she washes it out, sets it up on one of the shelves that held trinkets behind the counter. Something that would become a reminder of what she stupidly let happen. She fucking knew better.

Just like that, the extinguishment of a candle flame of hope, the feeling of Heated Anguish turned into Cold Detachment.

She would continue to care, be happy and live her life in spite. Rise from the ashes that once burned in cozy contentment.

But she would never truly love the way she loved him. He would become her personal Revenant that she would always seek out even if it meant avoiding him. Even if it meant taking time and leaving New York for a while. Even if it meant that she turned from her House to find a new path in a new Tradition.

When all was said and done, she would never be the same.

Pulling back away from the encased memory, she sighed. Wiping tears that were not there. Setting her shoulder she left her Mental Museum and came back to the person who had asked her the question in the first place. A smile that was bright enough that it reached her eyes, a talent that she was learning was a key to blending in.

“I cried. I spent some time mourning. And I moved on. Same as everyone else, ya know?”

[plutosongs]

hiiiiiiiiiii soz whats ur favo ghibli movie

hello!! :3 Ponyo. it’s the first one i ever saw and it has a big spot in my heart to the point the theme song can bring me to tears on tbe right day

[venusflytrpp]

Dear anonymous - Carla Roson

Warnings ❌: loss of a parent, slight blood injuries… I think that’s it 🤷‍♂️

(Reader is a female has and has two dads: Father(Demitru) and Dad(Michael) )

You met Carla at one of the lowest moments of your life.

The only child of a well renowned musician, so the media was constantly breathing down your neck. On top of that your father had died less than a month ago and your dad, rather than sit you down and talk about it, continued his world tour. Telling the media that it was the best way to honour his memory rather than take time to himself.

But you’d come to the conclusion that seeing you was a reminder of him, too painful for you dad to come home to a resemblance of the man that he loved. You had your fathers eyes so you couldn't blame him because you’d suffered the pain every time you looked in a mirror and saw HIM.

Funnily enough it was during one of your breakdowns in the bathroom that Carla found you. Huddled up in the bathroom fists clenched to your chest and the main mirror broken in pieces with a huge hole in the middle. It didn't take a detective to realise that you’d punched the mirror.

Carla had been watching from afar the slow deterioration of your mental state for the past few weeks. She’d only ever known you as someone from Polo and Guzman’s childhood, apparently drifting apart as you grew up. Going from the charming young woman to the little girl who walked back into class with tears in her eyes to grab your bag once you’d been pulled out of class and told about your father’s death.

Against her head telling her to get out of the bathroom and let whatever adult found you to deal with this. She made her way towards you avoiding pieces of glass scattered around her feet. At your side she ducks down to your level, hand on your knee.

“Y/n…” she calls your name quietly. Your head doesn't move from its position on your knees. She tries again calling your name softly causing you to lift your head slightly realising that someone is calling out your name.

Honestly, Carla was the last person that you expected to see; turning towards your side. You expected a teacher who’d heard from the hallway or any other person from the class you'd dashed out of. So turning to see Polo’s ex would be a shock to anyone.

With your throat dry - your hoarse voice replies “what do you want ?”

If it was anyone else Carla probably would have taken offence to your question but to be honest she didn't know where to go from here. So she just lifted her hand off of your knee and moved it to your other hand that wasn't clearly bleeding onto your shirt. Grabbing your hand, she moves to get up pulling you with her.

“Come on, lets go”

You move to object but for some reason you were curious as to how this would play out so you just nod your head, keeping your fist hidden under your blazer but there was nothing you could do about the blood on your shirt so you just left it.

Carla steps around the glass with your hand still in hers but from the crushing of glass coming from your shoes she could tell you didn’t have the same worry. She momentarily hesitates by the door wondering if classes were over and by the noise coming from the hall she’s proved correct.

“You can go if you want to, I can't say it's very flattering to be seen with me these days.” Your voice breaks the silence. This causes Carla to roll her eyes and move to open the door.

“You think the worst of me Y/n” She replies, opening the door anyway.

The main exit wasn’t far from the girls bathroom but the path just happened to be the busiest in school. So it wasn't a surprise when Carla bumped into Polo causing you to come to halt. The weird tension between the two of them was already uncomfortable but you could bet that the fact that you two were holding hands may have made it worse.

Looking down at your hands conjoined Polo’s eyebrow raises and he starts to stare you down, eyes fixating on the blood red stains against your usually white shirt.

“Where are you going in such a rush ?” he asks Carla, causing her hand in yours to tighten.

“Home” She replies not feeling the need to give him anymore of an explanation

“With Y/n ?” He asks again, Just now you come to the realisation that Polo’s isn't the only attention that the two of you had managed to gather. Already there are people gathering by the lockers nearby trying to take notice of the state of your shirt and the marquesa’s hand in yours.

Noticing this Carla hastily replies “Yes, now we are leaving”

Leading the way she quickens her pace getting out the door and towards her driver who was clearly expecting her. This causes you to wonder as it's only midday so school wouldn't be over for at least another few hours.

—

Arriving at her house she moves towards the front door with you still standing by the car.

“You’ve come this far you might as well enter the house you know.” She calls behind her then calls out for one of the workers to bring a med kit thinking about your fist which had only just about stopped bleeding in the car proving the point that it was a deep cut.

This triggers you to rush to catch up to her as she’s already seated on the nearest sofa. You awkwardly stand in front of it not really knowing where to go from here. Her eyes rolled again.

“Your hand can't be treated if you're standing, just sit down and they'll take care of it.” You take the offer and perch on the sofa as a man takes a nearby chair sitting in front of you, reaching out to take your hand. With some hesitance you give it to him and he gets to work with the antiseptic and bandages. You flinch and grunt as he works but the glares that Carla gives you anytime you move to take away your hand cause you to suck it up and let him do it.

“Why did you bring me back here ?” You ask the question that was on both of your minds, Carla being confused herself as to why she was here with you instead of class.

“You seemed like you needed to get out of there so I got you out of there. Does there need to be another reason?” Looking you in the eyes she replies thinking that was a justifiable response.

“We don’t talk and the most you know about me is whatever I presume Polo ever told you and anything you've seen in the news. So forgive me for asking.”

“I didn’t exactly see you say no at any point so I just assumed you were on board.” she answers again but seeing how that may not be enough she adds “You’re right I don't know you but it wouldn't hurt to. Would it ?“

This seems enough so you reply “No it wouldn’t but like I said in school you're probably not going to gain anything from this so what do you wanna know ?”

Without hesitation she asks “What did the mirror do to you ?”

A slight laugh leaves your lips causing Carla to smirk, happy she managed to get a laugh out of you. Taking a moment to read between the lines of her question the smile drops slightly into a sad one. Thinking back to just over an hour ago when your music teacher couldn’t take the fucking hint and stop bugging you about your parents sponsoring some festival the school wanted to host.

“Mr Riba can’t take a hint” you snarl as Carla’s eyebrow raises prompting you to go on “He thought enough time has passed for everyone to stop walking on eggshells around me concerning my fathers death so he, in the middle of the class, decided to ask me about the sponsorship that my parents were going to provide, full well knowing that it was my father that had the idea in the first place”

“I mean forget about the way he asked in front of a classroom of nosey teenagers but he's asking me about money for the wealthiest school in the country that was supposed to come from my dead father”

As soon as the word ‘dead’ left your lips you wished you never said it. The tears well up in your eyes for the seemingly hundredth time that day, threatening to slip out. The last person you wanted to cry in front of had taken the seat of the worker that was cleaning your fist. She doesn’t move to touch you or say anything knowing that there was nothing she could say or do to make this better.

“I’m sure we could get Mr Riba fired” Your non-bandaged hand rises to rub at your eyes as a watery laugh rips out of your throat.

“We?” You question

“Yeah, we. You’ve told me so you can’t leave me out now” Another smile graces your face, one that reaches your eyes.

“Don’t worry, you're right, you know too much.”

You and Carla spend the next few minutes planning ways to get Mr Riba fired knowing you probably wouldn’t follow through.

Probably.

—-

It’s late by the time you realise you’ve probably intruded long enough so you rise out of the comfortable position you’d moved into, sprawled out on the sofa with Carla opposite you on the other side.

“Lo siento, I’ve practically taken your whole day- “

“Don’t apologise I dragged you here remember? “ She smirks, causing you to nod.

You walk towards the door passing the worker who fixed you up saying thank you, shaking his hand and sliping two hundred euros in his hand, walking away before he got the chance to give it back. Reaching the door you grab the handle turning back to Carla.

“Thank you, en serio, I really needed that. You're not as cold hearted as they say.” you finish with your lips curling up in a teasing smile.

She just rolls her eyes feeling the need to pull you into a hug. Taking your hand on the door she pulls in round her waist moving her arms to your shoulders, encircling you in a hug.

“I don’t do this for anyone, consider yourself special” after a moment she pulls away looking in your eyes “Anytime Y/n. I mean, it doesn’t seem like you have anyone in school except for Rebeka.” She slightly grimaces at this.

Eyebrows raised, you ask “What, is the marquesa jealous ?”

Her face drops “You wish. You should probably leave now.” She turns you round pushing you towards the door as you grab the handle opening it.

You laugh “alright, alright i’m leaving no need to get annoyed”

A cough at the door causes you to straighten up and Carla’s hands drop as she moves from behind you to your side.

You’d always known Teodoro Roson was a serious man with a cold stare from seeing him around at high class parties your parents had been invited to but being on the receiving end caused chills to ripple down your spine.

“Mr Roson, Good evening, I was just leaving.”

Raising his eyebrow at the obvious he replies “ Y/n Caregula, I can see that but what's the rush join us for dinner. I’m sure Carla wouldn’t mind.” He turns towards her, giving her a patronising look.

Luckily for Carla you can tell when you're not wanted. “No, that's fine, no ones waiting for me at home but I’m sure somethings prepared.” The wide grin you sport seems to only irk her father, enlightening you further at his slight discomfort.

“Well, that’s fine then my driver will take you home as I didn't see a car here for you.”

You take him up on that offer as it seems you forgot about the getting home part as Carla had taken you straight from school. “Thank you sir” He seems to be lightly appeased by the respect you're showing. Turning towards Carla you tell her “Thank you again for today Carla” Confusing her father as to what today was but she just responds with a nod acknowledging your thanks.

“Get home safe Y/n”

You nod walking down the front steps approaching the open car door when Teodoro calls out behind you.

“Oh and sorry for your loss Y/n, he was a good man”

So you just nod still entering the car not feeling the need to look him in the eye. Once in the car you just face the driver telling him your address, not turning towards the window till you're out of the compound.

A part of you wants to turn around and punch the man for talking about your father like he was an afterthought, like he wasn't your every waking thought for every hour of every day. Another part of you was just so tired not wanting to deal with Carla’s dad right now.

AN: that’s part one down, part two soon then I’ll get to writing more for this and other fandoms !

[cozyboymayes]

I can see you smiling in my pussy baby 😋

Must be a black woman lol am I getting money too? Do I smell nice? I better have a retwist in this vision too 🤣