about the blog!

 

Welcome to my blog!
This Dove isn’t dead, but the blog’s dove is - don’t eat it!

────── ⋆⋅꒰ა☆໒꒱⋅⋆ ──────

This blog is basically everything - the Helpol paganism, the Luciferianism, my life, me, the mental breakdowns, the obsessions, the feelings, basically everything.

HEAVY dead dove do not eat - I am pretty mentally ill and I can get bad sometimes. Probably §v1¢1d3/§h, obsessions, bł00d, g0r3, etc, and my book is really graphic and detailed.
I’ll always put TW’s at the beginning of blogs that get messy, so you don’t have to worry about getting the jumpscare of your life.
Feel free to leave comments if you ever find me/my blog!
I am NOT a frequent poster, my posts are sporadic asf.

Welcome and hello! Bienvenue et bonjour!

────── ⋆⋅꒰ა☆໒꒱⋅⋆ ──────

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when the mental is illnessing

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sv1s1d3 tw I’m not gonna put any pretty pics or symbols or write any cutesy symbols or what the fuck ever bc i’m just so tired, i don’t even want to be awake but i have nothing else to do and i can’t sleep. My gf is really mentally ill and i stick by her through it bc i’m a goated wife like that, but sometimes i gotta have these types of nights. i already had to make sure my little brother didn’t kill himself earlier this evening which was a heart attack and a half, but now i think my gf’s conspiring or something but idk bc she’s not talking to me rn. let’s call her Amethyst rn bc i dont wanna keep referring to her as my gf or my wife, it’s repetitive. Amethyst put her spotify account onto my phone bc we use each other’s phones all the time, and she seemed really upset. i told her not to khs, and as a joke i said “i’ve already had a suicide scare today, another would give me a heart attack” and she said “ok, i’m gonna go talk to someone else then, i love you” girl what the fuck?? so i ...
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an excerpt from my book!

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The DEADEST dove in the world. If you eat it, you might d13. bł00d, g0r3, mention of v0m1+, mvrd3r, and mention of ¢@n1b@ł1§m TW! Anyways, Here’s a blip from my psych horror called 107! ────── ⋆⋅꒰ა☆໒꒱⋅⋆ ────── I stood there and watched as she clutched at her soulless mass of her husband. It looked like something out of a horror movie; over the top special effects, fake guts made out of wet spaghetti and pillow stuffing, and so much fake blood. But this time it was real, it smelled real. Like old, tin cans, puke and salty sweat. She sobbed silently, at one point gagging from crying so much.  I couldn’t hold it back. A giggle, A sound of pure, utter happiness writhed out of my throat, though I tried my best to keep it down. Her head shot up and looked at me, and then she melted once again into sorrow. I gazed into the desperate look in her eyes as she presented him to me, silently saying “Look. Look what’s happened. Please.” Presented to me like an art piece. An art piece I created....
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