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He/him FTM I come on here to write my daydreams I play the piano and apex legends I love the military and want to join someday ] open to constructive criticism enjoy my writings (yes a lot of them are LGBTQ+)
He/him FTM I come on here to write my daydreams I play the piano and apex legends I love the military and want to join someday ] open to constructive criticism enjoy my writings (yes a lot of them are LGBTQ+)
To all my closest friends and followers thank you for supporting me with all the fun memories and laughter. - Stormbound dreams
Deep in the forest the sun hung low the tempest wolves were as chipper as ever Stormbound sat on her ledge with a distant gaze a sleek brown wolf with crisscross scars trotted over and sat down “something bothering you?” Said cannibal Storm looked at her friend and said “ I have to go- but I don’t want to leave them” she looked back at her pack
Fluffy was racing pidge a smaller wolf and shadow queen was trying to torment knifes edge who kept teasing her.
“I have to say goodby Bentley- it’s gonna hurt and it’s for real this time I don’t want to lose my family” Storm said as they walked back “ take care of fluffy for me? She’s gonna need a supportive friend when I’m gone” Sorm watched crimson fight with demon reaper playfully storm trotted over to fluffy and said let’s go on one last run
As the two wolves tore through the forest over logs and trees across creeks and leaves The breee whistled past their ears and ruffled their furs finally storm slowed her pass then sat down and looked at fluffy and said “ your my best friend- your all I could ask for your strong and brave with a big. Heart and a bright future your gonna do great things- and I hope you’ll never forget how loved and valued you are” “ your a good friend fluffy don’t ever lose your quirkiness and loyalty I will truly miss you” Storm stood on her hind legs and awkarwdlg hugged her then said “ keep our friends together when I’m gone and always howl at a full moon and know I’m with you- always” and with that storm ran into the forest leaving her pack behind but in good hands Storm had tears in her eyes her heart was heavy for she’d never see them again.
This is my final writing for tomorrow I get a new phone and this app will be no more To all my friends I love you and I’m proud of you keep up the good fight 🫶🏻⚔️- Stormbound Dreams out for the last time 💙
Part One: The Arrival of Ringo
It was hard to fall asleep that night, even though the evening air was nice and cool. Celeste lay in bed, tears streaming down her face as she fought against the storm within her. Her parents were separating, and everything she thought was solid was cracking apart. They didn’t want her anymore; they were sending her away. Panic gripped her heart as she felt utterly powerless.
“It’s not your fault,” a voice whispered through the darkness.
Celeste shot up, eyes wide, scanning the dimly lit room. “Whose there?” she demanded, her breath quickening.
Perched on her windowsill was a figure cloaked in shadows. He pulled down his hood, revealing wolf ears that seemed to catch the moonlight and stormy blue eyes that held the depth of oceans.
“You look scared,” he noted, his voice a low murmur that wrapped around her like a familiar blanket.
“Wouldn’t you be if a random stranger sat in your window?” she shot back, trying to sound defiant, though fear clung to her words.
Ringo chuckled, the sound a warm melody, and stepped into the room as if she had invited him. He shook his fur, droplets of water flinging onto her walls, glistening like stars against the darkness. Celeste’s gaze drifted around her fortress of band posters and chaotic sketches, art supplies strewn across her desk, and fantasy books piled high like gateways to other worlds.
“So you’re out of the Hello Kitty stage, are you?” Ringo teased, his brows arching playfully as he took in her room's vibrant mess.
Celeste stared back at him, bewildered. Her reflection in the glass caught her eye—disheveled short hair, red-rimmed eyes, white scars gracing her forearms, remnants of endless scribbles. She didn’t say anything, but the silence spoke volumes.
Ringo’s expression softened, his eyes reflecting an understanding that seemed to dive deep into her soul. With a graceful leap, he left the desk and came closer, standing tall and steady before her.
Suddenly, a shout echoed from downstairs, accompanied by a thud and the shattering of glass. Her parents were at it again—their voices rising, piercing the fragile shell of her reality. Ringo’s ears twitched, flattening against his head as the shouting escalated.
“Breathe,” Ringo instructed gently, stepping closer, the warmth radiating from him a stark contrast to her cold room. “You can feel everything, but you don’t have to bear it alone.”
“I don’t want to feel anything,” Celeste said, burying her face in her hands, ashamed of her tears. “I just want it to stop.”
“You can’t stop what’s happening,” he said, his voice soft yet firm, “but you can let it flow through you. Emotions aren’t meant to be bottled up; they are powerful, like a river that needs to flow. Let me help you navigate it.”
Celeste lifted her gaze, eyes glistening with confusion. “How could you possibly help?”
He approached slowly, lowering himself to her level. “I’m not just a figment of your imagination, Celeste. I’m a part of your dreams, your hopes, and yes, your fears too. I’m here to show you how to turn those emotions into something beautiful.”
Part Two: Embracing the storm
As days turned into nights, Ringo became a constant presence in Celeste’s life. He guided her through the maze of her emotions, transforming her darkest moments into vivid scenes that she could explore rather than avoid.
One evening, as rain drummed against her window, Celeste felt herself slipping into a daydream. With Ringo by her side, they wandered through a mystical forest where colors danced in the air and music floated like petals in the wind.
“This is where you can release your fears,” Ringo said, leading her to a crystal-clear pond. “The water reflects not just your image but the essence of your emotions. You see the pain, but can you also see the strength behind it?”
She leaned over the water, her reflection swirling like a tempest. Memories flooded her mind—arguments, fear, loneliness—but also strength, resilience, and the fierce love she still held for her parents despite everything.
“What if they don’t change?” Celeste whispered, the weight of uncertainty anchoring her heart.
“They may not,” Ringo replied, “but that doesn’t define you. You have the power to shape your own journey. Use those feelings; channel them into art, music, stories… anything. Let your creativity flow.”
With Ringo’s words igniting a spark within her, Celeste began to open up. Each day after school, she would retreat to this enchanted realm where Ringo showed her how to harness her emotions. The simple act of painting her feelings became a cathartic release—sunlight-yellow strokes for her joys, deep blues and violets for her sadness, and fiery reds for her anger and frustration.
As their bond deepened, Celeste realized that Ringo wasn’t just a manifestation of her imagination; he had become her confidant, her muse. He helped her weave a tapestry of emotions, turning pain into passion, and her tears into art.
Part Three: The Unraveling
But amidst her journey of self-discovery, the tangible reality of her fracturing family loomed ever larger. The arguments intensified, and each night, Celeste would lie awake, Ringo perched silently on her desk, his presence a soothing balm against the chaos below.
One night, the downstairs commotion reached a fever pitch, shaking the very foundation of her world. The sound of furniture crashing filled the air—sharp, violent, and unrelenting.
Celeste’s heart raced, fear gripping her thoughts. “Ringo,” she whispered, her voice quaking, “what if they can’t fix this? What if they just… hate each other?”
“They’re battling their own storms,” Ringo replied, stepping closer. “But your love exists outside of that chaos. You can love them even when you can’t fix them.”
Her gaze shifted toward the window, where rain poured down like a curtain, obscuring the reality outside. “Maybe… maybe I can turn this into something. Maybe I can write about it… draw it…”
“Exactly,” Ringo encouraged, his eyes lighting up. “Channel that hurt into art. Let it become a part of your story. You’re not powerless; you’re an artist.”
As dread hung in the air, Celeste felt a flicker of determination ignite within her. She grabbed her sketchpad and, with trembling hands, began to draw. The lines flowed onto the page, transforming fear into raw emotion.
The pencil captured the storm of her parents’ shouting but also the soft glow of a future where she would thrive—cities of hope, dragons of courage, and the gentle embrace of friendship and love.
Look closely, Ringo reminded her softly, stepping back to watch her work. You’ll see that even the darkest storms end, and when they do, new beginnings emerge.
And as she filled the pages with swirling colors and emotive lines, Celeste felt the weight of her fear lift. In a moment of clarity, she realized that her art was a refuge—a reminder that even in chaos, beauty could emerge.
Part Four: The Transformation
As weeks slipped by, the storm in her life began to reveal rays of sunlight. Celeste continued to pour her emotions onto canvas, using each brushstroke to bridge the gap between chaos and clarity. Ringo was always by her side, guiding her through.
One fateful night, after the echoes of another late-night argument faded, Celeste found herself sitting on her bed, the moonlight pouring through her window. “Ringo, what if they don’t change? What if they never stop fighting?”
“They may not,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring. “But that’s their journey, Celeste. Your path is uniquely your own. Stand tall in your truth. You can’t control their actions, but you can control how you respond to them.”
Celeste nodded, an understanding washing over her. “You’re right. I can’t let them dictate my happiness. I’ll keep creating and sharing my truth.”
“Good,” Ringo smiled, his eyes sparkling. “And never forget that even when things get dark, the stars shine bright above. Even in the depths of your struggles, there’s hope. You just have to look for it.”
And so, with Ringo’s encouragement, Celeste prepared for her first art show at school—an exhibition not just of her talents, but of her story. The pieces would talk of hurt, healing, love, and loss—a symphony of her emotions laid bare for others to feel.
As the day approached, her excitement mingled with anxiety. On the night of the show, she stood before the gathered crowd, her heart pounding loudly in her chest. With Ringo at her side in spirit, she began to speak.
“This collection tells my story,” she said, her voice trembling at first but gaining strength with every word. “It’s about navigating the storms of my life, finding beauty in chaos, and embracing the emotions that make me who I am.”
As she shared her feelings, she saw nods of understanding, tears glistening in the audience’s eyes. Her words connected them in a shared human experience, and she no longer felt alone.
In that moment of vulnerability, Celeste understood that her emotions, once a source of pain, could also be a wellspring of connection and healing. And with Ringo guiding her every step, she began to reclaim her story—not just as a tale of a girl caught in a storm but as a testament to resilience, creativity, and hope.
Part Five: The New Dawn
The months that followed unfolded like a blossoming flower. Celeste’s art flourished, and with each new piece, she integrated her experiences, channeling her heartbreak into powerful expressions of resilience. Ringo remained by her side, a steadfast ally in every brushstroke, every word, every note of her newfound music.
Her family still struggled, but Celeste learned to carve her own path through the chaos. Rather than ignoring her parents’ fights, she found ways to express her feelings, be it through painting or journaling.
Over time, she began to see glimpses of her parents navigating their emotions too—perhaps they could find a way to co-exist without hurting each other, just as she had learned to deal with her own storm.
One evening, as she worked on a new painting filled with vibrant colors and swirling, chaotic forms, Ringo watched with pride. “What title will you give this piece?” he asked, his eyes sparkling.
“New Dawn,” she replied, a smile brightening her face. “It signifies hope, the idea that every chaos can transform into something beautiful.”
“That’s perfect,” he affirmed, wagging his tail in approval. “Always remember, Celeste, every day is a new beginning. Embrace each dawning moment.”
And as Celeste soaked in Ringo’s words, she understood that the storms of life would come and go. But with every challenge, there was an opportunity for growth, for art, for connection, and for the indomitable strength she carried within her.
With Ringo by her side, she realized the power of her emotions not only helped her navigate the storms but also allowed her to create art that resonated deeply with others, singing a melody of hope amidst the chaos. Celeste learned that she was a symphony in herself—a fusion of light and shadow, sadness and joy, all woven together in the vibrant tapestry of life.
In the end, she was no longer just a girl trying to cope with her parents' separation but an artist and a storyteller, ready to embrace new adventures, dreams, and possibilities. And with that thought, Celeste smiled, knowing the dawn was just the beginning of her own incredible journey.
The air crackled with tension as the clash between the Ghost Squad and the Crimson Shadows raged on in the clearing. Trees stood as silent witnesses, their trunks spattered with the remnants of paint, a vivid reminder of the fierce competition. Alex and James, two of the fiercest members of the Ghost Squad, darted between the gnarled roots and underbrush, their movements fluid and instinctual, locked in a deadly dance against their crimson-clad adversaries.
Each shouted command, each burst of laughter and yelp of surprise, filled the forest, creating an atmosphere charged with adrenaline. Alex took cover behind a fallen log, the rough bark scraping against his skin as he fired another shot, the bright yellow paint splattering across the enemy’s chest. James flanked him on the left, taking advantage of the distraction Alex provided, his shots precision-tuned to find their mark.
The sound of splattering paint and shouts of victory echoed around them, blending with their laughter. Exhausted but exhilarated, they fought fiercely, their camaraderie evident in their every move.
One Day Before
Ghost Squad Group Chat
(Alex): “Yo anyone down for some paintball?”
(James): “That’s a great idea! I’m in!”
(Serra): “Umm guys, we’re still active…”
(Alex): “Don’t be a party pooper. We’re already the best and soon to be in Special Forces!”
(James): “I agree, it’s a bit risky but worth it. Anyone know if Jace is coming?”
Jace, deep in the throes of preparing for an upcoming operation, glanced at the barrage of notifications lighting up his phone. He rolled his eyes, irritation pulsing in his veins.
(Jace): “No… I’m not coming.”
(Alex): “Aww, come on man! You never have any fun; all you do is work your ass off! Come have some fun!”
The messages kept flooding in, their enthusiasm crashing over him like waves, but Jace turned off his ringer, dismissing their camaraderie. Instead, he focused on the steady echo of his rifle’s dry fire as he practiced his shots, each one reinforcing his resolve to be better, to never let his guard down.
Later, after a long day of training, Jace trudged to the barracks, his body aching but his mind racing. He took a quick, scalding shower, the steam swirling around him a temporary solace from the weight of memories that haunted him. Standing before the mirror, he felt a familiar darkness settling around his heart as he cleaned his gear, his fingers lingering on the polished metal of his weapon.
Just then, the door creaked open, revealing his Drill Sergeant’s imposing figure. Jace snapped to attention, a reflex born from countless hours of training.
"Private Wolf," the Drill Sergeant barked, stepping closer, his eyes narrowing. "Training ended for the day. Care to explain why you’re still here without your battle buddy?"
Jace, a knot tightening in his stomach, averted his gaze past the Drill Sergeant’s shoulder. "I wanted to do extra training, Drill Sergeant. Perez and the rest of the unit are off playing paintball."
The Drill Sergeant studied him, his expression softening, if only slightly. “And you didn’t join them?”
“No, Drill Sergeant,” Jace replied, his voice steady yet strained.
“Why?”
“It’s... it’s been five years today since… I lost my old unit. Drill Sergeant, it’s my fault they are gone.” The admission felt like a weight pressing against his chest, an echo of pain that refused to fade.
The Drill Sergeant took a step closer, his voice lower but firm. “It wasn’t your fault. You can’t blame yourself for an ambush. A sniper can’t take out a chopper while holding onto their best friend. You’ve got a new team, one that’s willing to connect with you.”
“I don’t want to lose them like I lost Alpha Team," Jace said, a lump forming in his throat, memories of laughter and brotherhood mingling with the shadows of loss.
“You won’t lose them, Private. You learn from mistakes, and it’s time you gave yourself that chance. You owe it to yourself—hell, you owe it to them.”
With that, something clicked inside Jace. He felt the urge to combat the ghosts of his past, to reconnect with his unit, rising within him. Without further thought, he made his decision. In an instant, he was sprinting for the exit, determined to surprise his comrades in the chaos of paintball.
The Paintball Arena
The clearing was alive, a riot of color and noise as the Ghost Squad unleashed a torrent of paint-filled projectiles, each one bursting upon impact, leaving stripes of vibrant hues across the forest floor. He could hear the cheers and playful banter, a stark contrast to the gunfire he’d grown accustomed to. Then he lunged from the shadows—a whirlwind of green, a determined figure locking onto his friends in a frenzy.
“Jace!” the shout rang out from Alex, their eyes wide with disbelief as they caught a glimpse of their missing brother.
“Surprise!” he yelled, a grin breaking across his face. Pulling the trigger, he watched as the paintball sailed through the air, connecting with James, who hadn’t seen him coming. The vibrant yellow burst across his chest, and uproarious laughter followed.
In the ensuing chaos, Jace ducked and dove, adrenaline surging through him with every shot fired. He wasn’t just an outsider anymore; he was part of the action, the rhythm of camaraderie and fun racing back into his veins. He felt himself blending into the group—the joy, the connection, the laughter rolling off each of them like a refreshing breeze after a storm.
Paintballs zipped past him, and he maneuvered flawlessly, firing back with reckless abandon. One by one, he took down the members of the Crimson Shadows, the victory igniting a fire within him that had been dormant for far too long. The colors mixed in a beautiful display, a blend of green and crimson periodically interrupted by shots of erratic color explosions.
As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the forest, Jace reveled in the chaos of the game, having found solace in the laughter of his friends. The shadows of his past began to fade, replaced with the warmth of unity and belief in a new beginning.
In that moment, surrounded by his team, Jace realized he wasn’t alone anymore. He’d found his new path—one filled with challenges, growth, and most importantly, the unbreakable bonds of brotherhood.
This is a letter to the young me The one that's six years old That's full of hope, protected by what they don't know Don't wish away a single second of being so naive Too full of peace to be afraid of anything
If I could find that kid today I'd build a time machine, just so I could say
Stop growing up and just slow down Nothing's better than what you have now 'Cause someday you'll look back and say That you were living in the good old days Stay innocent 'cause you can't see Life's so much harder than you once believed You won't know it until it's too late But you were living in the good old days (good old days)
This is a warning to a dumb kid The one that’s counting down Thе days 'till they can get away from their homеtown Oh, don't you wish away the present You don't know it's worth 'Cause the scenery you change won't make you happier
Long drives, light games and skipping class Your heart will break when you look back 'Cause one day you went out to play and didn't know it was the last
Stop growing up and just slow down Nothing's better than what you have now 'Cause someday you'll look back and say That you were living in the good old days Stay innocent 'cause you can't see Life's so much harder than you once believed You won't know it until it's too late But you were living in the good old days
Bad blood, deep scars, things that traumatize Wait here for you on the other side Don't waste these sacred years The grass ain’t greener here Memories that keep you awake at night Self-doubt so strong, you'll be paralyzed Don't waste these sacred years The grass ain’t greener here
If I could find that kid today, I'd say
Stop growing up and just slow down Nothing's better than what you have now 'Cause someday you'll look back and say That you were living in the good old days Stay innocent 'cause you can't see Life's so much harder than you once believed You won't know it until it's too late But you were living in the good old days
Life is short so live it well- Stormbound Dreams
Good old days -citizen soldier (New song) [listen to the song ]
So you guys are probably wondering why I’m not on a lot and I probably made some worry about my health especially in my writing “done with life”
My family and myself are going through a hard time right now last night at
4:30am my grandpa on my fathers side papaw ended up passing away last night
I have lost all motive and reasoning to write I feel detached and a shell of myself the grieve this weighing heavy on us right now
I don’t know if I will stop writing all together or if it’s just a writing block. I probably won’t be on until this blows over
But just to reassure everyone I am doing ok for now
-that’s all folks - Stormbound Dreams
In the hush of dawn, when the first light gleams,
A train rolls forth, whispering dreams,
With iron wheels that sing a tune,
It's bound for the skies, 'neath the crescent moon.
Papaw’s laughter, like a gentle breeze,
Rides on the wind through the rustling trees,
He loved the engines that thundered and roared,
Each whistle a story, each journey adored.
Now as the conductor calls, “All aboard!”
He climbs on board, where the angels applaud,
The train glistens gold in the morning light,
Set for the heavens, into the bright.
Through valleys of starlight, through clouds soft as lace,
He travels on tracks that time can't erase,
With family beside him, in hearts held so dear,
Each memory a treasure, each smile a cheer.
The landscape of love stretches wide and far,
Past mountains of memory, under blessings' star,
Every heartbeat a promise, every breath a sigh,
For love is the journey that never says goodbye.
So ride on, dear Papaw, on those celestial plains,
With the wind in your hair and no more pains,
In the hearts of us all, you forever will stay,
As the train carries you home, to a brighter day.
In the echoes of youth, my heart would race,
With lightsaber battles, I'd dream of a place,
Where heroes in uniforms, strong and so bold,
Wove tales of camaraderie, legends retold.
Every midnight flicker, the glow of the screen,
Clone troopers marching, a galaxy keen.
I wore their brave badges, in dreams I would soar,
A soldier in service, with honor in core.
Then came the day, like a solemn decree,
A call from the shadows, whispered softly to me.
A great-uncle’s memory, like armor, it grew,
As soldiers once fought, I too had to break through.
But voices around me, like shadows did loom,
“Too young,” they would whisper, “You’ll ruin your bloom.”
Yet passion ignited, a fire inside,
For I longed for the life where loyalty's tied.
In the heart of Salvation, behind walls worn and cracked,
I saw them, my heroes, in uniforms stacked.
With their heads held high, they moved with such grace,
Each step carved a memory, each smile left a trace.
But beneath that façade, I felt the dark seam,
A truth in the silence that shattered the dream.
A father's confession, a grim tale to tell,
Of shadows that linger where hopes could not dwell.
“Fifty percent," he spoke, with a voice full of weight,
“Face trials beyond battles, their futures now fate.”
Like glass in the sun, my heart fractured wide,
Reflections of courage now faded with pride.
For in that moment, the loyalty broke,
The bonds that I cherished, now twisted in smoke.
The joy I had sought, in the ranks I adored,
Now lay in splinters, a truth I abhorred.
Yet still, in the shards, I found glimmers of light,
For each soldier's journey is both dark and bright.
In the face of adversity, they still choose to stand,
To fight for the freedoms, to protect this grand land.
So I’ll carry their stories, those pieces of pain,
Transform into strength, let the raw passion reign.
For even in darkness, the heart can still gleam,
In shattering moments, we'll build back the dream.
Though heroes have secrets that tarnish their gleams,
Their courage remains, woven deep in our dreams.
With each step I take, I’ll remember the call,
For the heart of a soldier still echoes in all.
In the golden glow of dawn’s embrace,
Where laughter danced like sunlight on the lake,
I wander through the garden of our days,
Each petal a memory, each smile a breath I take.
We traced the stars in midnight’s tender sigh,
With whispered dreams woven in the tangles of our hair,
Your hand in mine, we painted the skies,
Building castles in the air, floating without a care.
Oh, the soft serenade of the summer breeze,
Moments like fireflies, brilliant in their flight—
We were caught in a tapestry, woven with ease,
Every thread a joy, each shade a spark of light.
But seasons turned, as all seasons do,
The laughter faded, replaced by silence’ toll.
The colors dimmed, once vivid and true,
Leaves of memories scattered, taking their toll.
Once, I marveled at the way time entwined,
But now it drapes like a shroud on my heart,
A haunting echo of love left behind,
Soft whispers of joy that have long since depart.
I remember your voice, a melody sweet,
But now it lingers like a ghost in the night,
Every note a reminder of what was once complete,
Now all that remains is a fading twilight.
The weight of each moment, a burden to bear,
I reach for the laughter but grasp nothing but air.
Hope flickers dimly, a candle in gloom,
And shadows grow larger, encroaching my room.
The stars that once promised, now seem so far,
A desolate sky, a memory marred.
With every heartbeat, I drift further away—
In the silence, I linger, lost in decay.
Once, I dreamed of a life filled with grace,
But the mirror reflects only sorrow’s cold face,
I breathe in the echoes, each breath full of strife,
And slowly, I whisper, “I’m ready to leave life.”
So here at the edge, where shadows entwine,
I cradle the whispers of a love left behind.
The beauty has faded, the colors gone grey,
In the stillness, I surrender, and gently fade away.
I built my life upon your lies Trusting you hurts more Then you'll realize
I loved you more than I loved life I cared too much
I held you so high
I wanted to be like you
How to sing so beautiful
How to smile so brightly
Your laugh is beautiful
I didn't realize the shadow you cast The songs you sang in the morning Became a warning you were slipping
You stopped smiling a real smile
I can tell the pain behind your laugh The way you avoid our parents like the plague
The way you never respond Until anxiety sets in
The way you sent a sherif To the house after saying I will find someone to help you
The way you lied in saying To them that you were a stranger
It hurt more then the danger You thought I was in
But now my trust is shattered I just wanted to be accepted
Now I feel rejected, tell me Did you mean what you said
The way you said I love you Or was that a lie too?
Trama stays around me I loved you so fondly
Now I am scared of who I am Overthinking things of ways it could go
Tell me are you happy? Because you burned our love in a flame
And now I can’t even say your name All I can say is I loved you
Writers note if you comment on this I probably won’t see it it took me months to pour emotions into this and I am mentally drained from it
