devotedlywingedperfection

[devotedlywingedperfection]

happy pride month!!

[devotedlywingedperfection]

basically i always knew that in the end no one was coming to save me. sooooooo yeah

[devotedlywingedperfection]

The hold that broke

Through the scorching heat of the day,

that one cup of tea was a joy I stole from my fate.

I refused to let the world’s unbearable expectations

snatch even that much from me.

I was talking to my peers,

laughing through the pain with the cup of tea in hand…

when I saw You.

You—

the same face I used to see every single day without missing a beat,

the same face that was always my first choice to remember wherever I went,

the same face I hadn’t seen in months—

until now.

You came closer with the patrons you keep,

the ones who refuse to acknowledge me.

Can’t say I didn’t say in my head, “Likewise.”

My peers were happy and excited at the sight of you.

They knew—like everyone else in my life—

that you held something of me.

You held a big chunk of my heart…

or at least you used to,

before it crumbled down in the very hand I placed it so carefully.

They didn’t need to know that,

so they didn’t.

You looked nice.

You looked like the cool breeze that makes the trees dance.

I acted along, like I always do.

I laughed, I talked,

shared simple life updates,

hiding everything else carefully inside my heart

beneath a cheery expression.

You looked at the people around me,

you watched me interact—

I know you noticed how some very new information about me spilling from their mouths so casually.

You didn’t say anything.

And I pretended I didn’t see that gleam in your eyes.

I do hide things now.

That much stood clear in front of us like a certification.

But you didn’t really care.

I’m not the only one, after all.

In the blink of an eye,

it was time to say goodbye.

I had stopped hugging you since that wretched thing.

I was ready to walk away

when you hugged me.

I instinctively wrapped my arms around you—

but the hold was loose,

as if I didn’t want my heart to connect with yours anymore.

Then I felt the hold tighten,

and I fell back into old habits

I’ve been trying so hard to get over.

I took a deep breath,

as if I had been holding it in all this time.

Then the hold loosened—

and you walked away.

I didn’t look back.

I couldn’t.

Didn’t want to know if you were looking at me.

Instead, I looked up at the sky,

smiling,

feeling the familiar heartache creep back in.

The awful day started to feel unbearable again.

[devotedlywingedperfection]

my life without Naruto: the heavens

my life once Naruto came through the back door: war zone

my life was all rainbows and sunshine, then Naruto strolled in and I look like I got hit by a bus. I swear this fandom is breaking my heart and mending it at the same time. 😭

now children, this is why you shouldn’t read obikaka angst before bed. and you shouldn’t be scrolling on tumblr for SasuNaru angst at 11PM on a school night. or looking for KisaIta one-shots like a blind raccoon.

also, got any recommendations? better if it’s quick, because my attention span is shorter than my eyesight. also, a gun load of angst please. I want to bleed tonight. but anything really, anything. 🙏

[devotedlywingedperfection]

bad news, they’re dying. After 1 month. I haven’t worked on the fanfic in forever. But, once they’re completely dead, I’ll buy new ones, maybe something less depressing?

[devotedlywingedperfection]

just had flashbacks of the moment in sport where I tried to to kick that football and nearly hit my friends balls…from 5th grade. plus an argument that resulted with him (some asshole and sore loser) on the floor, crying.

what was wrong with me in 5th grade? 😭 I remember crying at 7PM behind the sporthalls.

[devotedlywingedperfection]

[devotedlywingedperfection]

a teaser of ‘Guilty Conscience’, because I have been really inactive.

Sasuke’s shaking left hand slammed on the tile, the burning sensation on his palm momentarily pausing the strangulation. His clambering fingers reached towards the phone that sat centimeters away from him, his eyes watering from pain as his grip finally tightened around cool leather.

He must have been hurt. Sasuke’s fingers hovered over the keypad, the voice more sinister, as his trembling fingers gave in the passcode.

2307

The bright phone screen hit through teary-blurred eyes as Sasuke tried to make up words from the blurry letters.

You, a trusted friend, leaving without a word? Sasuke felt the cold whisper in the crook of his neck, the contact running a shiver down his spine. While messing up the plans for the performance, you, were supposed to do? The emphasized ‘you’ felt like the twist of a knife in his chest.

You’re out of your mind— 

interested?

[devotedlywingedperfection]

I just realize that Jiraiya peeking at the women section at a bathhouse isn’t just creepy, he’s getting inspiration for his writers block.

but it’s just full on creepy.

[devotedlywingedperfection]

He worked hard today.

[devotedlywingedperfection]

[devotedlywingedperfection]

When a Character is Falling in Love but Doesn’t Trust It

Love is terrifying. Especially for characters who’ve been hurt, shut down, or raised to believe vulnerability is weakness. So when they start falling? It doesn’t look like a Disney montage. It looks like panic in slow motion.

✧ They start noticing everything and it unsettles them. The way their voice cracks when they laugh. The way their fingers tap when they’re thinking. These little details burrow in and refuse to leave. And that awareness makes the character feel exposed.

✧ They become hyperaware of their own body. Where their hands are. How close they’re standing. If they’re blushing. It’s like being inside a body that’s betraying them constantly.

✧ They act a little mean. Not because they are mean. But because being cold is safer than being real. Sarcasm, distance, teasing, they use it like armor.

✧ They hate how much they want to share things. They’ll see a funny meme and instinctively want to send it. Then stop. No. Don’t get attached. They want to tell them about a childhood memory, then bite it back. Too personal.

✧ They become inconsistent. Warm one moment, distant the next. Showing up, then pulling away. They’re testing how much of themselves they can reveal before it feels like too much.

✧ They assume the worst. They know it won’t last. That this person will leave. That they’re misreading everything. Love doesn’t feel safe, it feels like a countdown to pain.

✧ They self-sabotage. Pick fights. Flake on plans. Pull away emotionally just to “protect themselves” before it goes wrong. It’s tragic and messy and real.

✧ They notice silence more. What wasn’t said. A delayed reply. A joke that didn’t land. Everything becomes a sign that maybe this love thing was a mistake.

✧ They want to run, but never do. The desire to bolt is constant. But they don’t. Because something about this person is pulling them back, despite every warning bell going off in their head.

✧ They don’t trust the feeling, but they keep falling anyway. And that’s what makes it beautiful. And heartbreaking. Because they don’t want to fall. But they do. And maybe, just maybe, that’s the bravest thing they’ve ever done.

[devotedlywingedperfection]

[devotedlywingedperfection]

Itachi may be a genius, but he needs guidance, and I decided early on that Sasuke wouldn’t blow up his cover easily, but it’s not more important than protecting Itachi from what’s about to happen.

[devotedlywingedperfection]

Scary to think I had this conversation yesterday with a friend. She kept on telling me: You’re not alone. There’s still a reason to live.

Is there? I don’t see it.

Every single day I meet some sort of criticism. Eyes staring wide as I speak in public. Maybe a bit racism, ostracism.

I tell myself that I got reasons to live, but at the same time I question my existence.

Did I do anything to deserve to live? No.

I didn’t ask to be born, I didn’t asked to be put on so much pressure until I’m crying behind the door while my family goes on with their daily lives. Time isn’t stopping, I am not stopping. There’s no slowing down. I cling to whatever happy moments I had in life, knowing those days are over.

Two girls stared at me on the bus. Intently. I’ve received these looks before. We all have.

They were allowed to stare. A group of girls, one from Iran, one from South Africa, one from Germany, one from Hong Kong.

It felt uncomfortable under their eyes. It didn’t help as I spoke English to my SA friend. Eyes cold and calculating. They didn’t waver.

I felt hurt.

What has society become if we only focus on our races? What have we become? They stared at us like exhibitions in a damn museum. Who were suddenly speaking some random language that half of Germany can’t fluently speak.

People go on about racism and how it’s a bad thing. Some of my classmates do tell. But subconsciously? They distant themselves from the other half of the class that aren’t ’pure german’, let’s say.

I should be considered German. I am half-German. My friend is also half-German. But it’s critism.

Ever since I walked in on that school day, in the middle of the early fifth grade year, they distant themselves.

Whispers behind my back, eyes dare not tell emotion.

We are technically all damn German, but some of us have other roots. Because of this I am not proud to consider it myself for fucks sake.

These people go on on how we have to be kind and thoughtful. And accept everybody.

NO.

Boys from other classes mock our English, though they’re failing it themselves.

When have we resorted to this? When have we decided that being a fucking asshole was the way to go?

While stuff like this is happening, teachers don’t give a shit, really.

Laboring us like fucking dogs. We’re slaves to exams and homework at this point. They demand everything. A concert, homework, excellent grades and participation in damn class.

Little did they know how fucking depressed this generation is.

People out there make jokes about serious topics without questioning if there are consequences. Otherwise they’ll brush it off, as if they didn’t just insult my nationality.

I got an emotionally abusive mother who doesn’t bother. I got friends who tell me I can continue even though I don’t know my limit. I’m fucking faulty, I need control, I hate myself. I have an ex-friend I run into by chance sometimes, she’s diagnose with autism and adhd. I got a family who doesn’t care how I feel. I got a brother who throws me under the bus.

When will this end? When will someone hear themselves and come fucking clean?

Extremely Long Rant :)

About… Nothing and Everything.

More like a half-poem-half-essay fueled by rage and grief and whatever emotion I have after reading Chanel Miller’s ‘Know My Name’ and also my built up agitation over my own pathetic life.

And now every day I am stagnant; frozen; I do not expand, change, grow—

I just stare and stare and wait for when I will break in the bathroom,

Door locked behind me,

Quiet, gasping breaths, but not a sound wrestles out of my throat.

No one is coming, not a single person is coming to save me—

From what, though? From myself, my own mind—

Your worlds are turning but I am still here, stuck, alone, constantly alone—

I am still here, screaming even when not a muscle twitches on my skin, on my face, in my eyes, do you see me screaming, can you feel it.

Of course you can’t, because I killed that scream, I smothered it with the blank of my voidlike mind, black, I silenced it, but it’s there, it’s still there—

If a tree falls but no one hears it, does it still make a sound?

If I scream but no one hears me, did I ever scream at all?

Rationalisation. This is your fault. You brought this upon yourself. You made this bed and now you have to lie in it. You did not work. You did not study. You did not do what you had to. I know you were falling apart. I know you were crumbling behind a bathroom door. I know you were wasting your life resisting the desire to end it. But that is your fault. That is your flaw.

Everyone has problems. You are not special, you are not great, you don’t deserve any better.

You brought this upon yourself. Now suffer. Now fix this.

This rationalisation might be nothing more than a product of the words I have been told, I have read—

But this rationalisation has a purpose. To soften the powerlessness of “You cannot undo what happened.” To take control from the world, from the truth, to take the knife wedged in my flesh and twist it wider to draw blood and ascribe all the pain to my own actions. My own fault, my mistake, something I don’t need to forgive or suffer over. It is my choice. It was within my control.

And I don’t need to feel anything. Not betrayal, not hurt, not rage, not helplessness.

Grief.

I was born into a life I have no control over. It is my life, and you hear spiels about “Hey, you have only one life. This is it. You have to decide how you’ll spend it.” But I don’t want it, I don’t want this. My options are few. I study. I go to college, I get a job, I get a husband, I work and work and have a family, I fight, I cry, I love, I die.

It ends with that, always.

It ends when I die. Right?

But I feel dead already. It should be over now. The things I want to do are nameless, do not have words to embody them yet. The things I want to do are physically possible but then, logically, practically, a fleeting dream. Impossible. I destroy my own dreams so that I do not have to convalesce when someone else does it for me.

How come the mind does not amount to anything in this civilisation? How come instinct, feeling, emotion— which is primal, which is animal, but also nuanced, complex, which is what makes us human in the first place— is considered inconsequential? Emotions dictate and determine what we think, how we act; emotions are also a sign of weakness, an inconvenience to our should-bes.

There is no place for sadness in this world. No place to be weak. Emotional. Trusting. Naive.

To survive in this system, you need ambition. You need talent. Drive. You need to be unrelenting, unwavering, ruthless in your pursuit. Your engine must never sputter. Your flame must never flicker.

Else you will lose yourself. That is what they will tell you, that you have lost your way, you need to pick up the pieces and glue them back to start up again.

But I like these broken pieces of me. You do not get to tell me my worth. You do not get to tell me that I have to change, snuff my mind out and thoughtlessly follow the system. You can punish me for it, impoverish me, castigate me, humiliate me, slaughter me— but you cannot kill my mind.

You cannot beat me to submission. That is a power I alone have; to concede, to submit; here the power lies with me and not you; you will never be able to take away my control over my own mind.

This is a truth. Yes. But even this amounts to nothing. This does not change the fact that my emotions are a burden to me, that is what you determine, that is what you insist, and tell me: why should they be?

Why should my emotions be something like a complication in what you expect me to be? A machine, barely human. Not even alive.

Why should my emotions be something to get over in order to return to normal life? Why is normal life an absence of feeling? Why is there no place for my thoughts in this world? Why am I not allowed to question— when I point out the hypocrisy and the wrongs in this system to older people I receive the same reply: “Don’t be childish, the world is unfair and you have to get used to it.”

But if you cannot change this then who? If you all are submitting to everything unjust then who is left standing? Who do I look to when I need answers, when I need to tell, to listen, to understand?

So much wrong, so much wrong!

If I look into the world I will go mad and so I choose to stay blind, ignorant, to whatever extent I can be when nothing ever seems to stop.

Is it the same for you?

Is that why you dismiss these things with that automatic injunction about the unfairness of this world? Because you think you have no power. Because you think you have no control. But if none of you can change this then we are left withering. If none of you can change this, what is the point of living anymore?

I read a lot. I read to reassure myself that there are still human beings in this world. That sometimes other people also get so sad they cannot speak.

That other people are also so isolated that they are left missing the people they live with, because now you are physically proximal to them but your worlds are so vastly different, distant. I look at my own father and I know nothing about him. I miss him. I see him every day and still I keep missing him. It never even stops!

What have I come to? What have we come to?

This was always what I feared the most. I am given reasons to die every day but never a reason to live. I survive and survive but nothing ever changes, I do not think this is worth all that survival. “Oh, just talk to the people you love, the people who love you, get help, things will get better.”

But it is not so easy; you do not know me, know them. Sometimes I get so alone I forget there are people who know I even exist.

It is not so easy, because they have no power in this system either. I tell them. Then what! And revealing this— I can already predict how we will slip past each other like parallel lines, misunderstanding every word we speak, so close and yet we will never even meet. Not once.

How do I collapse at an old picture? How do I collapse at a moment of silence? Leave me alone for just a moment and I break. The shards fracture. I divide, rather than expand.

How are we so quiet in our suffering? Why are we so desperate to be recognised for our suffering?

How did this happen?

Where did it all go wrong?

From the start?

How is nothing new, how have we become so used to violence, so insensitive?

How have we internalised every irrational, malignant and frankly banal prejudice implanted in us by society?

We are not born with this prejudice. We are not born with hatred! I was just an ordinary child once. I was just a child and so were you. Now look at what we have become. Look at what we have done!

This world is in ruins, you think rape is something that happens to other people, nameless victims on the Internet, you think the statistics cannot possibly affect you. You think teenage suicide is unfortunate, but you make exams even harder, you make academics more important rather than less, you raise the bar rather than lower it, and the blade is piercing my neck, my head is on your rack, you are murdering us with this system. You talk about it, on and on, but your actions only exacerbate it and your sympathy is wasted on us. Schools bar windows not for our safety but for theirs! So that we cannot jump, so that their reputation is not besmirched. They know we want to. Isn’t that horrifying! Do you still feel nothing! When will you start to give a shit? When it is your own son, your own daughter, your child? (God forbid.) They know, you know, I know. At least do not pretend to give a shit when all you do is murder us. This is not one person, one bad decision. This is all of you.

How did you come to this? What made you submit?

The hopelessness of it all? To spare yourself the disappointment and the anguish when inevitably nothing changed?

This is not a critique. This is pain. This is pain. This is feeling, this is thought finally spoken, this is my mind.

I cannot accept this system and that will probably kill me. But it’s so meaningless, all of this is so fucking meaningless!

What are we so anxious for? What are we committing suicide over? A fucking test. Some made up machination of contrived importance.

Why?

There are millions of problems and all we have are questions that nobody knows the answers to. Is there an end to this? Is there an end to loneliness, to grief, to rage, to this waiting?

I am not immersed enough to follow this system or act of its importance but I am not detached enough to be anything but devastated if I fail to comply with these standards. Even as I write this, my insides are on fire, a blue fire, the back of my mind tries to strangle my emotions, oppress them enough that I may once more do what I am expected to do as a teenager— study. Like any true student, I am poisoned by guilt, infinite guilt. Taking time out of my day, which is already filled with one thing and one thing only (school), to pour out these thoughts so that they don’t swallow me completely, I am wrecked with guilt, with urgency, with anxiety, the voice of humanity yelling at me to go and fucking study I am so behind I have done nothing I will fail my exams and disappoint everybody.

At some point, the expectations of other people of myself became my own standard to uphold. I NEVER ASKED FOR THIS. How do I make you understand that? I am so, so tired. But my life has only begun. I am exhausted, empty, have nothing left to give. Still you expect worlds of me. Things I will surely accomplish… but how do I deliver when it takes all of my energy to simply keep the pieces together, keep my broken self whole, at least in one place.

Make this stop, make it all go away, can you? I know you cannot. I know. I know.

The voices are winning. I have wasted too much time. I have to go. As always, as always, nothing is new, and nothing has changed, except me; a little more submissive, a little more suicidal. Guilty of wasting time. Guilty, grieving, inexplicably and incorrigibly sad.

“Why can’t you be a little happier?” Because I have no reason to be happy. Not a single fucking one.

I offer my heart on a platter daily and society devours it, infests it, like maggots, steady, eating away, consuming all of my heart on display.

It drowns me now, this sorrow. How do I piece myself back together? How can I bear this pretence any longer? How, tell me, how do I go on?

[devotedlywingedperfection]

[devotedlywingedperfection]

Well, this is not what I was planning to do for pride month but here you go some trans and poly positivity :3

I don't usually hc Kakashi as trans, just in this specific au because I do hc Rin as trans in the canon (I love her so I made her queer). I wanted team Minato to be happy and fluffy because they deserve it! (Also I wanted the baby to have white hair :³)

Also I believe this situation could only work with poly obkkrin because 1. They have less trauma bc Rin is alive. 2. Rin can ground Obito and Kakashi and help support them enough so they can raise a baby.

I'll do more stuff and hcs about obkkrin and the trans Rin hc sometime in the future.