You are not an accessory to my kingdom, you are the heartbeat of it
Posts
Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I'd stayed with the people I had three years ago, perhaps I'd have been happier, perhaps even married by now, with kids on the way or already here. But then I remember that I'd have had other battles, a man who'd want alcohol more than he'd want me, a man who preferred another woman's bed and weed to keep him in peace for my presence alone wasn’t good enough no matter how hard I tried to be his safe haven, his peace. I envy the life I could've had, but simultaneously I know it wouldn't have been all that amazing, but I still wonder if it would've been better than this one.... Keep wondering...keep wandering x
Four am.... It was four am and I was ChatGPT-ing a plot hole in Delirium ...I held my pee for an hour trying to work through the damn plot hole ⛳ it's not easy being an author, they said it'd be fun, I nearly broke my ass falling into this catastrophe - it's not that dramatic, just go with it though. Anyway it is now five, I shall sleep now, with a relieved bladder and some ideas on how to fix this damn plot hole... Keep wondering, wonderers....keep wandering x
I'm a biased author mama, I love my babies, my sweet little characters I'm supposed to work on Delirium , write the climax point, the dun dun dunnnn moment, so that I get to working on Mirage , but what am I doing? Thinking about writing them. I've been procrastinating for dayyyyssss!!! To Hugo and Lyla! 🥂
My dad never really seemed very... emotional to me, before he passed, but he was - he always did his best to spoil his girls, got each of us flowers on Valentines day, cooked, joked about, let us snuggle up to him and fall asleep, gave us melting hugs. I miss his laugh, good gods of the Greeks, his laugh was something else -loud and....well thinking back it'd fit a character like the Joker, you know that slight "I might be crazy or evil laugh" or was it more a clown laugh? If he heard me now...👀😐 And sometimes it's the little things that has my heart kicking into gear and feeling like he's still alive - he used to wake me up at 4 in the morning to start getting ready for school (I always reached school in the early hours because he had to drive quite a distance to get to his job), but he didn't kiss my forehead or gently shake my shoulder or anything, he used his foot 😂 he would come in, stick out his foot and kick at the mattress, at that time in the morni...
One asylum romance leads to the next, first it was Lyla and Hugo, now we have Molly and Gideon... Delirium is almost done and ready for Kindle... Mirage is still in the womb.... I love love, especially when it's theirs 😂 or I'm just a little bit biased...I don't know, they're good babies,I swear... Them: "Oh, what's you book about?" Me: "Oh, crazy people" Them👀😐: "nice" Keep wondering....keep wandering x
Hades Part II
The underworld was quiet before her— a kingdom that only breathed when the dead remembered how. Then she arrived, barefoot and laughing, dragging constellations through the dust. Madness clung to her like perfume. Every echo bent to listen. She spun where I stood still, danced where even time had frozen, and called my silence beautiful. I should have feared her. I had seen what light does— it burns, it fades, it leaves ruin where warmth used to be. But she was different. Her light was not clean or kind. It was crooked, wild, a lantern made from broken glass. It didn’t blind. It bloomed. When she laughed, the dead stirred. When she sang, the walls wept gold. And when she touched my hand, I swore the dark itself exhaled. They call her mad. I call her mine. For only madness could love a god of stillness and make him feel alive.
Part II Becoming Ivar
At first, I'd only watched— wishing and praying for his fire, aching for his defiance. But envy is hunger, and hunger devours. So I drank his fury like wine too dark to name. I swallowed his laughter, sharp and powerful as broken steel. I kissed his scars until they marked my own skin. Now— I limp with pride, my weakness my weapon. I grin like a predator, daring the world to doubt me. They see me fracture and still they bow. They hear my silence and still they tremble. Because I am no longer the woman who envied him. I am the woman who became him. Ivar’s storm in my lungs, his venom in my veins, his crown on my head. The gods can keep their heroes. I’ll keep his madness. I’ll keep his fire. I’ll keep me— sharpened by him, unstoppable as him. I do not follow his shadow. I am his echo— louder, darker, reborn.
Sometimes I doubt what I write, I wonder if it's good enough, strong enough, if I'm doing the story justice and when the doubt seeps in, it's quite hard to keep the story afloat, honestly. Kinda feels as if it's on life support 😅 and that's shit. Kindle is the finish line for level 1, and I've got to push to reach it, even when I tire halfway through the race, perhaps it's just my pacing that's the problem. Doubt isn't all that horrible, it questions and that's good, but never let it question so strongly that it drowns out every other voice, lovelies. Keep wondering, wonderers...keep wandering x
