#she let them dictate her worth. she gave them her puppet strings and now she's in their debt forever. and without them she's nothing.

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

Looks at the pre-constant wigfrid tea,,, also looks at how things might go if they ever do go out of the constant,,,,

adelaide (her hc real name for those who are new here) went through an entire metamorphosis from her time in the real world, to first entering the constant, to when she actually became wigfrid as we know her today. however, just because they're 'different people' doesn't mean that you can't see flickers of one in the other, or vice versa.

where there are some people (her audience, mainly) who adelaide would bend to the whims of almost immediately, beyond that she had a surprisingly strong spine. it took a lot of effort and will to claw her way to the position she had, and she did all of that on her own. it stands to reason you'd learn to stand your ground on most things (again, audience) after long enough of that.

however, um. the thing abt adelaide is that. she hates herself. and wigfrid loves herself. which makes it pretty difficult to share a lot of qualities with adelaide, when remembering adelaide too deeply makes you loose your damn mind. it's why wigfrid needs to keep the persona up. really, it's far thinner than most of the survivors would expect it to be… beyond having a better survival instinct and speaking without the accent, wigfrid reverting back to her old self wouldn't really change her by an astronomical amount.

If she were forced to go back to the real world… forced to be adelaide again. i think all of it would feel like a fever dream. i don't think she would really know how to be adelaide anymore- how to be anyone other than the persona she spent so long crafting. she's spent far too long conforming to a script to go off-book now. i think it would turn her into a paranoid recluse honestly

#headcanons #hiii rye hiiii hiiii 💕💕💕 we both should probably be doing school work rn. but hiiiiiiii 😊💕💕 #i could talk abt adelaide for a million years honestly she's so fucking silly she's so nuanced #and rye since YOU'RE here and you would get this: to me. again. it feels so parallel to like a william thing #where ppl think that the two sides of themselves were so different and that one couldn't possibly be akin to the other #completely forgetting the fact that the old self was the very foundation FOR the new self #adelaide is mild mannered and sophisticated but she's not a pushover she's not meek to the point of helplessness #she fought and clawed tooth and nail to get a PRESTIGIOUS spot as a talented female actress- #-in a time period where the masses NEVER would have appreciated how difficult something like that was to do #her issue is not with her talent. it's not with her resolve. her issue is that she let her audience consume her. #she let them dictate her worth. she gave them her puppet strings and now she's in their debt forever. and without them she's nothing. #i don't know im digressing. im getting too silly for 8 am

[relationshipblr]

Sexuality.

Before realizing that the root to my insecurities was the absence of my father, I took refuge in the arms of a very close friend in middle-school. On weekends where I couldn’t bare arguing with my mother over nonsense, she was a phone-call away. I could tell her my secrets, my dreams, and my mistakes without the worry of my mother ever hearing of them. She was the textbook definition of a best friend. However, my refugee heart began to become so comfortable within her arms that it quickly sought citizenship. I didn’t realize this at the time, but every part of me wanted her. I wanted her happiness, her beauty, her love, and her. With my middle-school brain, I never suspected that that whole time I was truly in love with her. It was only until recently did I realize that those feelings I bore for her were the same I had for guys in my classes. This shift in my sexuality, and my constant questioning to what the hell I was doing, is filled in the lines written by “jacky” who wrote the poem Bisexuality, published in 2014. Like “jacky”, the girl in my life never replaced my love for men but it only added to my kaleidoscope heart. My middle school love wiped my tears when I cried, she protected me from boys when they lied, and she understood my pain when my stepfather died; she was everything I wanted in my father and everything I had lost in my mother. It is then that I realized that I was deeply and truly in love with her. Because of that friend, I was able to leave this world while still staying on the ground for the first time. It wasn’t until later that I began searching for that feeling in other men and women. But still today, and because of her, I have an extremely complicated relationship with my sexuality. 

bisexuality

It all began with a ‘he’ he who said I was pretty  when my face turns sideways and  the right amount of sunlight casts shadows  on the planes of my cheeks he who kissed me in 6th grade  in front of my best friend – whom he used to date,  his lips were cool and moist  moist – it didn’t feel anything. he who requested love songs during our high school intramurals  when all of my friends and all of his friends  cheer us up like we were the sweetest thing they’ve seen. he who danced with me the whole night of our junior prom,  my shoes dangling behind him, my arms and his arms were sweating  he whispers now, “You look beautiful.” he who gave me wilting flowers on the 15th of February  because I skipped school – too scared to face the truth  that no one would do what he just did. He proved me wrong. he who said “I love you” too late. he who said “I love you” too early. He who made me believe that fate, destiny, sparks, forever, and all that bullshit  were real, written in His holy book. Should I still believe in you? he who said would wait – the next month telling me he realized  it wasn’t me he was waiting for. he who told me to stay. he who left. he who never went back. and oh – he he who was never here in the first place. it all began with a “she” she who danced in front of the class  with all her sass, snaps, and we laugh. she whose hair used to be straight  swaying down her waist, flows smoothly when she walks,  falls perfectly down her collarbones. Let’s not start with collarbones. she whose eyelids flutter like butterfly wings  making the ones inside my stomach dance like hummingbird’s wings  her eyelashes are thick, outlining her brown eyes – her perfect brown eyes. she who throws he head back when she laughs  not knowing I drift and crash back to the sea  like a wave thrown back by her chuckles and laughter she who reads and reads tons of books  when she could write about her day  and that’ll still be the greatest stories I could read she who held me close when she stumbles towards the bus station  when she’s drunk she who wanted nothing between us – worried it will not work. but she made the raindrops of yesterday meaningful  so it could wash off all the hurt from everything, from everyone. she who changed me. – no. she who made me face the mirrors I’ve been running away from  all those lies I’ve been hiding alone  all those pain, all those bad memories she washed them all away, like a hurricane   she dragged my whole town with her she who made me forget. she who makes me ache at times but it’s the kind of ache  you’d gladly take – a suffering worth all the suffering she who outshined all of – in the best possible way I could imagine she who made the stars insignificant. It doesn’t end with a ‘he’ It doesn’t end with a ‘she’ it all ends up with a simple ‘who’ that person who will always come through for you I learned that love sometimes doesn’t last that long sometimes it doesn’t even start at all. But I know one thing, you cannot fight it. I don’t know where – maybe in his hands or in her eyes. It will make you move like you have no choice at all – like a puppet stuck tied up and down nylon strings by the puppeteer dictating your life like you have no choice, at all.

[peppermintkisses21-blog]

The wonder that is Her

It all began with a ‘he’ he who said I was pretty when my face turns sideways and the right amount of sunlight casts shadows on the planes of my cheeks he who kissed me in 6th grade in front of my best friend – whom he used to date, his lips were cool and moist moist – it didn’t feel anything. he who requested love songs during our high school intramurals when all of my friends and all of his friends cheer us up like we were the sweetest thing they’ve seen. he who danced with me the whole night of our junior prom, my shoes dangling behind him, my arms and his arms were sweating he whispers now, “You look beautiful.” he who gave me wilting flowers on the 15th of February because I skipped school – too scared to face the truth that no one would do what he just did. He proved me wrong. he who said “I love you” too late. he who said “I love you” too early. He who made me believe that fate, destiny, sparks, forever, and all that bullshit were real, written in His holy book. Should I still believe in you? he who said would wait – the next month telling me he realized it wasn’t me he was waiting for. he who told me to stay. he who left. he who never went back. and oh – he he who was never here in the first place.

it all began with a “she” she who danced in front of the class with all her sass, snaps, and we laugh. she whose hair used to be straight swaying down her waist, flows smoothly when she walks, falls perfectly down her collarbones. Let’s not start with collarbones. she whose eyelids flutter like butterfly wings making the ones inside my stomach dance like hummingbird’s wings her eyelashes are thick, outlining her green eyes – her perfect green eyes. she who throws he head back when she laughs not knowing I drift and crash back to the sea like a wave thrown back by her chuckles and laughter she who reads and reads tons of books when she could write about her day and that’ll still be the greatest stories I could read she who held me close when she stumbles towards the bus station when she’s drunk she who wanted nothing between us – worried it will not work. but she made the raindrops of yesterday meaningful so it could wash off all the hurt from everything, from everyone. she who changed me. – no. she who made me face the mirrors I’ve been running away from all those lies I’ve been hiding alone all those pain, all those bad memories she washed them all away, like a hurricane she dragged my whole town with her she who made me forget. she who makes me ache at times but it’s the kind of ache you’d gladly take – a suffering worth all the suffering she who outshined all of – in the best possible way I could imagine she who made the stars insignificant.

It doesn’t end with a ‘he’ It doesn’t end with a ‘she’ it all ends up with a simple ‘who’ that person who will always come through for you

I learned that love sometimes doesn’t last that long sometimes it doesn’t even start at all. But I know one thing, you cannot fight it. I don’t know where – maybe in his hands or in her eyes. It will make you move like you have no choice at all – like a puppet stuck tied up and down nylon strings by the puppeteer dictating your life like you have no choice, at all.