#''there's something wrong with me and its not going anywhere until the day i die'' team

[babygirlificationn]

"I'll kill you. When the time comes, if you want me to."

House finding Thirteen after Wilsons death and fulfilling his promise to her post canon is a common headcanon and for good reasons.. I feel like ive wanted to draw something with these two for a while now but never had the chance.

Gift for @morehousebites !!!! Hope you like it even a little bit <3 Prompt: Gregory House & Remy Hadley, Chronic illness.

@housemdanniversary huge thanks for organising all of this <3 happy twenty years of house md ! 🐁

Bonus (silly) under the cut.

Foreman transmasc and pregnant...

Loosely based on the prompt: "pregnancy (I'm autistic and it's a special interest of mine, not in a sexual way it's just genuinely fascinating to me), also if it involves Chase or Foreman- I headcannon both as transmasc individuals!" the disclaimer made me giggle lol. Also tbh i just wanted to draw my man Foreman.

[vesora]

3D Unfavourable Circumstances: Experience Ramble + Reminder

We have all heard that the 4D is the source reality which the 3D then projects.

What happens when undesirable circumstances occur in your reality?

The past few days I have been feeling incredibly shit because of some circumstances and I fell down a spiral of self-loathing, wanting to hide from the world and just leaving life. When something bad happened, I said to myself omg sora youre so unlucky, your life is so shit all the time, no one likes you sora, sora you will die alone and I revelled in that. I immersed myself in that feeling because it was so comfortable to me because pain was what I felt for a long period of time so I actually started chastising me for it. I didn't understand how I manifested these bad things to happen and I felt like a failure in manifestation because why weren't they going away? The thing about me though is I always had both a good view and a bad view of myself so my mind was in a constant fight with each other. With LOA, I now learn that I can choose to give power to only the good side until the bad side dissipates away.

As one of the unfavourable circumstances happened, I let myself feel anxious but in my head I also affirmed against it. "Wow I am so lucky. I am having such a beautiful day. I love life so much." Usually I wouldn't let myself revise because I felt that was important in my development but now I just let go and choose my happiness FIRST. I can learn lessons and still be able to revise any desired events.

when any circumstance happens,

the 3d looks to YOU for validation.

A misconception we have even if we know the law is that the 3d is indicative of our success or not when in reality its only job is to reflect what you believe. When you're in any circumstance, the 3d looks at you and sees your reactions whether you accept it or not and then reacts accordingly. If things don't rectify immediately, do not worry, KEEP PERSISTING. Its only job is to fulfill your beliefs, right or wrong.

What if you react to the 3d?

It's really okay if you do. Your manifestations are not going anywhere. If you can in the moment though, affirm against it. It's not easy, it can be hard even for me but you must only focus on the new story primarily. Dont worry if you think ab the old story don't worry at all, you're still manifesting everything!

When I went through a self loathing spiral, I realised people around me were more prone to picking fights with me because I was unable to let that shit go. I kept focusing on how people are mean to me and how people don't understand me, forgetting I am the cause AND the solution.

I opened a healing meditation and my body was rejecting it at first but I finally let myself relax. Once I got into a calmer state, I started affirming good things and things were back to normal again. Progress might not be linear so do not give up.

Tldr; the 3d looks to you for validation. you are the only influence for your reality, use this power to be happy. it's ok to react to the 3d, remember to revise later. Do something that calms your body. Remember not all thoughts are true, only accept the thoughts you want because you choose which thoughts are true so choose the good ones. Youre not a failure, your body and mind might be going crazy sometimes but that doesn't mean you're a failure. Just affirm against it, whether its at that moment or later.

Don't overthink things. If bad things happen, stop asking yourself why, just focus on the 4D and leave the 3D alone or know that it must change and your pain is temporary sweetheart. It will go away, it must. Life was not made for suffering. Life is supposed to be easy. I love you and hang in there.

[meganlpie]

Growing Love

Based on this request:  I do have a story request for your the hobbit book. I was thinking of possibly the reader staying at Beorn’s and the grow to love each other overtime and they eventually admit it to each other.

Here you are! My apologies for the wait. *Beorn is NOT mine and is the property of JRR Tolkien.*

Warnings: Mostly fluff, slight angst(?), first time writing Beorn. Reader is described as being shorter than Beorn. Beorn is theorized to be anywhere from 7'3"(220.98cm) to 12'(365.76cm) tall.

Pairings: Beorn x reader

When you had first accidentally stumbled upon the house in the woods, you thought you would die. After all, there was a giant, great bear right on your heels. You managed to find a small space to hide where the bear couldn't get you. A few hours later, after the bear had left and you calmed down, you were approached again by a very large man. While you were intimidated, he did not seem to want to hurt you. In fact, upon hearing your story, he offered you a place to stay.

       You grew to enjoy working alongside Beorn. You cooked together,  took care of the livestock and ponies together, and kept bees together. But your favorite thing to do with Beorn was work in his garden. For such a large being, Beorn was as gentle as could be with his garden. He talked to his plants, nurturing them the way a parent would a child. He taught you about the various things he grew and how to care for them. 

Time passed as you stayed with Beorn while you were trying to figure out where to go and what to do. Some days, you felt like a burden to the skin-changer. Still he never said anything like that to you nor did it seem that he was tiring of your company. You often caught him staring at you in what appeared to be deep contemplation. Like you were a riddle he couldn’t solve. One day, you would figure out exactly what Beorn was thinking.

Beorn had given you your own patch of land to grow flowers alongside his crops. You were tending to those flowers one morning when you felt Beorn’s eyes on you again. “Is something wrong?” you asked him, straightening up. He cleared his throat as if he were embarrassed to be caught staring. He paused for a moment, contemplating his words carefully. Given his usual brash nature, you were happy to wait for him to get his thoughts together.

“I have discovered something. Something unusual,” he replied after a bit. You cocked your head to the side as you gazed up at his face. “Oh?” He nodded and brought a hand up to his chin, the manacle on his wrist jingling slightly. “The thought of you…leaving. It does not please me. At all. I find myself getting rather angry at it. I had heard of feelings like this, but did not believe in them.” 

His confession threw you for what felt like hours. His intense gaze never left your face as he watched you take in what he’d said. “I…are you saying that you care for me?” You could have smacked yourself at how unsure you sounded. He nodded once but then his brows furrowed. “Perhaps care is not a strong enough word. I believe what I feel for you is deeper. Much deeper than simply caring.”

You felt your entire body heat up. Was he really saying what you thought he was? “Beorn? Are you telling me that you might love me?” He thought for a moment before confirming your words. “Yes. My love for you has grown, I believe, much like the blooms you have tended to. A tiny idea, a seed, of what life could be with you by my side for the rest of our days began this and now, like your flowers, I feel something blossoming and maturing in my heart that I have long thought was incapable of such things. And now I need to know if the same can be said of you. Do you-Could you…love me?

A smile crept its way to your lips before you could stop it. Beorn simply stared at you until you realized that you hadn’t answered him after nearly a minute. “Beorn, of course I could love you. It is possible that I already do and have been denying myself the joy of it, thinking you would eventually tire of me and I would have to leave.” You removed your gardening gloves and slowly reached over to take one of Beorn’s hands in yours.

“We could live a thousand ages and I would not tire of you,” he admitted slowly. You beamed up at him as tears of joy pricked at your eyes. Beorn smiled down at you but suddenly stiffened. Your brows furrowed as he straightened up and sniffed the air. “What is it?” you asked in confusion. 

“Orcs. Get inside, bar the door, and don’t come out until I return.” You knew better than to argue. Instead, you merely agreed and Beorn turned to leave. Before he got too far, you called out to him. He glanced back at you over his shoulder. “I love you,” you confessed. He smiled again. “And I you. Now go. I shall return.” You quickly ran inside, the door barely closed behind you when you heard the growling of a great bear. “Be safe,” you whispered. You had no idea that, very soon, a company of dwarves, a wizard, and hobbit would change your lives completely.

(a/n: I hope I did Beorn justice. I have one more request for him on my list)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @brewsthespirit-blog @sirkekselord @aikibriarrose @lady-of-lies @motleymoose @stories-by-shanna-p @dark-angel-is-back @esoltis280 @supernatural4life2022 @asgards-princess-of-mischief

Tolkien Tags: @jotink78 @thealbersclan @evyiione @legolaslovely @justcallmecinammon @wingedlandwasteland

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC’s Lucien - Rebirth Date - English Translation [3/3]

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

No Man's Land Solo SSR Event | Rebirth Date Part 1 | Date Part 2 | Date Part 3 (You're here!) | Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7

I can't help but laugh, placing my hand in his as if placing both my life and death in his hand.

I've never felt so free and happy. All the unknowns seem to have transformed into challenges at this moment, and I want to overcomes them.

Translation under the cut!

Previous Part=> [Click Here]

—[Part 4]—

Lucien: Radiation, disasters, and the like are merely puzzles posed by objective reality, and we are the problem solvers.

Lucien: Only in this way do we qualify to step onto a new level.

His voice is exceptionally gentle, accompanied by the buzzing sound of an electric current that sends shivers down my spine.

MC: ...Are you going to kill me?

Lucien: [chuckles] Do you want me to?

He lowers the machine in his hand, bringing the rapidly spinning chainsaw blade dangerously close to my neck.

Lucien: I can dismember your limbs, but that won’t be particularly useful to me right now.

Lucien: I can extract your brain intact and keep it active for a certain period of time. Maybe you would still be considered 'alive' in some biological sense.

Lucien: Of course, the most important thing is your heart and... your Evol 'core'.

Lucien: I've been curious for a long time about how it works, allowing you to withstand any severe radiation threat and survive until now.

Lucien: Maybe when I cut you open, there will be an answer to all this. What do you think?

I can feel the intense wind pressure from the chainsaw pressing down on all my nerves, but at the same time, it seems that an even more majestic and surging force is roaring in my chest.

My mind is almost blank, leaving only some kind of instinct.

MC: ....No, you are wrong.

MC: If I die, you won't get any answers.

At this moment, I seem to see something more clearly.

MC: And... it's not you who is studying me to carry out so-called 'evolution', but rather me using you to complete ‘change’.

The corners of his mouth curve into a more pronounced arc.

Lucien: Is that so? But it seems I have the opportunity to lock you up again at any time.

Lucien: I have many ways to keep you from going anywhere, even... to take away your right to choose death.

MC: Then go ahead and try. Just hope you don't die too soon from my radiation.

MC: Just like right now, you've been around me without any protection for too long.

In this gamble, that ever-surging power now settles in my heart. It feels unfamiliar to me, yet at this moment, it seems to belong to me completely.

His deep eyes fill with more laughter. He elegantly sets the machine aside, squats down, and places his hands on both sides of the bag.

His warm breath hits my face, and he seems like another cage, closing in on me even more.

Lucien: Do you know? Ten years ago, your data readings fluctuated wildly. They thought it was due to your unstable condition, but I suspected back then that it was because of ‘fear’.

Lucien: Humans can feel the existence of life through extreme fear. They will instinctively want to protect themselves, and that drive will generate immense energy.

Lucien: Back then, my knowledge and skills were far from sufficient to fully uncover everything about you, so I concluded... that we both needed some time.

Lucien: [whispers] But later, I regretted it. Actually, I shouldn't have let you go back then.

His gentle voice brushes past my ear like a feather, making me instinctively hold my breath.

Something heavy and complex seems to be shedding its outer shell, revealing a more genuine and indescribable side to me.

Lucien: A lot of time was wasted, so when you appeared before me, I was very happy.

Lucien: And you're slowly starting to trust me, which is good.

MC: So everything over the past six months... was it all your facade?

MC: To make me truly feel fear?

Lucien: [chuckles] No, I want you to always remember the feeling you just had.

His noticeably cold fingertips brush my cheek, meticulously tracing a certain outline.

Lucien: You should have been constantly thinking, striving to survive, and seeing many scenes.

Lucien: Remember how you used that power and then tame it.

Lucien: Only then will you be complete.

A pair of calm abysses engulf me, tempting me to gaze upon what lies hidden deep beneath the surface-

A soul that is pure yet obsessive, mad yet patient.

Lucien: Besides, I have never pretended in front of you. Just because you don’t see it doesn't mean it doesn't exist.

Lucien: Our time is running out. I think it's a good idea to use myself as a stepping stone for change.

Lucien: After all, solving the problem is the key to everything, and I don't want to cause you too much pain.

I freeze momentarily, suddenly realizing something, and repeatedly examine his entire body.

The person in front of me has no skin ulcers, looks mentally stable, and everything seems normal…

MC: Could it be that you…

Lucien: I am my own test subject, and the facts prove that I have succeeded.

He lifts his palm, revealing faint flickering motes of light. I can sense a power radiating from within.

Lucien: As I've mentioned before, your body seems to possess a sort of 'core' or 'field'.

Lucien: Your core affects the radiation energy, either absorbing or repelling it; hence, you remain unaffected.

Lucien: And I used the power you unleashed earlier to replicate a similar 'field'.

Flecks of excitement dance in his eyes as he arrogantly retracts his fingertips.

Lucien: [chuckles] If my hypothesis is correct, in a few days, I will be able to create a 'core' with a near-identical operating mechanism in a few days.

Lucien: I might soon be able to research the data from the heavily contaminated areas myself, including... the machines there.

With that, he rises to his feet, carefully placing various organs and components into separate jars before turning his head back.

Lucien: I previously asked you, 'Is death the end?' Do you remember your answer?

MC: ...I remember.

Lucien: I don't think death is the end.

He lets out a soft chuckle tinged with an air of undeniable arrogance.

Lucien: No one here cares about death, because it's too commonplace, and also because they don't understand the value of death.

Watching his retreating figure without turning his head, I instinctively crawl out of the black bag.

I feel as if I've just experienced death and have been reborn with new flesh and blood in this moment.

I want to know what he means and see how far he can go.

✂———————–

Following his figure, I enter a room on the side of the deep pit. Jars of all shapes and sizes are placed in the dimly lit environment.

The wall is covered with a dense jumble of numbers and changing curves, new numbers and symbols overlapping the old marks, layer upon layer.

I look around in surprise, momentarily at a loss for words.

MC: These... are all your doing?

Lucien: Not entirely, I just took over them.

He places the jars on different shelves and writes new numbers in one spot.

Lucien: Someone else conducted experiments here before, leaving behind many things and data. There are always predecessors doing similar things, just like the information you brought back.

Lucien: I just found them, researched and revised their conclusions, and came up with my own answers.

MC: How do you know that someone else will do the same thing…?

Lucien: There will always be.

Lucien: There will always be those who are curious, questioning all the current definitions and conjectures, wanting to know how this world actually works.

Lucien: There are always things that spread wider and longer than diseases and death, leaving their mark on the world in various ways.

I stand there in a daze, Lucien is clearly standing in front of me, yet I feel like he is so far away.

In a world ravaged by wounds, his words sounded like a miracle, but he spoke them as if it were a matter of course.

At this moment, I suddenly have a premonition.

Even if Lucien disappears from the world one day, there will surely be someone who will sweep away the dust of time, pick up the whole box, and continue to climb upwards on this silent boulder.

Lucien: Aside from that, these corpses are also quite nutritious.

Having seemingly finished his preparations, Lucien spoke abruptly, causing my expression to change instantly.

✂———————–

Following his footsteps, I arrive at another dark, large building. I had never thought that the buildings next to the laboratory each had their own purpose.

Amidst the continuous rumbling, Lucien opens each black bag one by one and empties their contents into a deep pit, its contents and depth obscured from view.

Lucien: Corpses can be fermented by bacteria to produce biogas, which is a tremendous source of chemical energy.

Lucien: Moreover, improper handling of these corpses could lead to an outbreak of plague, resulting in even more deaths.

Unable to understand what he's saying, I stare into the depths of the pit for a long moment before turning my gaze towards Lucien.

MC: Have you been experimenting on the people in the city all this time?

Lucien: [chuckles] I don't deny it.

Faced with his somewhat ambiguous answer, I fall silent for a moment.

Lucien is both saving and experimenting. It seems as if the divine and the devil coexist paradoxically within him, making it impossible for me to define him in any way.

Lucien: The more people who survive, the more it proves that my path is the correct one.

Lucien: I deeply regret the loss of those who died, but I will only use their deaths to go further.

As we leave the building, the sky is so dark that no single star can be seen.

Lucien doesn't stop but walks towards the city.

Seeing this, I instinctively halt—I am not wearing my isolation suit, and my presence could harm the city's residents.

Lucien: [gently] It's okay, MC. Trust me.

He stands in the darkness yet extends an invitation to me like a burning flame.

Lucien: Let me show you what this world can be.

In the empty square, not a sliver of light is visible. Lucien takes out a small device, instantly illuminating his face. A small, dome-shaped black hole is also aimed at me.

MC: …!

Instinctively assuming it to be a weapon, I cover my neck and recoil half a step.

Unexpectedly, Lucien laughs and gestures with the device at me for quite a while. I instinctively try to escape his ‘target lock’, but it only makes his laughter more pronounced.

Finally, I can't resist moving closer. After he presses the button, I find myself appearing on the lit-up screen!

The me in the picture frame steps back in fear, nervously runs around, and finally moves closer out of curiosity.

MC: …What is this! So amazing!

Lucien: I don't know either. But since we've found it, it means someone invented it in this world.

Lucien: It has no significance for survival, yet it still exists.

With a gentle shake of the device, specks of light dance exuberantly in his eyes.

Lucien: How boring it would be if the only meaning of this world was survival.

My heart is racing, and the moment I take the device, it feels heavy.

I don't know what I pressed, but Lucien's face appears on the screen.

Lucien looks straight at me through the device.

Lucien: [softly] MC, do you know? From the moment you appeared before me, I realized that this world is actually full of color.

Lucien: So, I really want you to see what the world looks like through my eyes.

An unknown button press triggers a blinding flash of light that erupts in an instant, searing an imprint onto my retinas-

The whole world seems to be glowing.

Multicolored luminescence suffuses every corner of the city. The splendid and brilliant lights are like eternal fireworks, blooming with unparalleled beauty.

Zone X is lit up.

Shadowy figures emerge from the corners, their heads raised and eyes wide open.

??: ...Is this also a radiation tide?

??: It must be... it must be! Run! Otherwise, none of us will survive!

??: It hurts! I feel so much pain!!

??: Wait… City lord is over there!

??: City lord! Save us!!

Countless cries of clamor and anguish rise and fall, eyes full of pleading and struggle are cast in my direction.

Lucien: These are all my doing, they are just some lights that I turned on.

As those words settle, the entire square instantly falls silent.

??: There's no way so many lights would turn on in this world... you must be lying!

??: ...Really? Could it be that City Lord is just that powerful?

??: Run!!

In that fleeting moment, I seem to perceive a myriad of faces. Doubt, curiosity, anger, despair...

In the unfamiliar yet radiant scene of rebirth, something sprouts and grows amidst the ruins.

As someone charges forward with a roar, Lucien remains nonchalant, a smile still gracing his lips.

His eyes hold no trace of them.

Lucien: MC, the future awaiting everyone will never be peaceful; death and struggle will inevitably permeate the entirety of human history.

Lucien: But if, after enduring pain and struggle, one can gain the courage to face the truth, it will surely lead humanity to a further future.

MC: ...What kind of future?

Lucien: For example…

As blood splatters everywhere, I see Lucien proudly raise the corners of his mouth.

Lucien: You can stand in front of everyone just as ordinarily as this.

Lucien: Without restrictions, in a state of freedom.

Lucien: I think this future is just beginning.

Lucien extends his hand to me as he speaks.

I have never seen someone like this, standing before me in such a real and equal way, in the face of me who always brings death to others because of my radiation.

He has calculated everything and cut open everything, inviting me to embark on an unknown and long journey together.

Almost without hesitation, I step forward and grasp that hand, letting the blood stains on it also stain my hand.

Since he has used himself and the future as bait, then I have absolutely no reason to give up.

MC: Lucien, is all of this tonight part of your bigger trap?

Lucien: [chuckles] What if it is?

I stare back at him deeply, the corners of my mouth curling into a smile.

MC: Then I will gladly accept it*.

With a dazzling halo around his arched eyebrows and eyes, he pulls my hand up and we start running together.

Lucien: The isolation membrane I placed on you only lasts for 15 minutes. "Miss Death" is about to come again.

As he speaks, he spreads his palm open with a serious demeanor. Despite being covered in blood, he appears as graceful as the wisest grand wizard from a book.

I can't help but laugh, placing my hand in his as if placing both my life and death in his hand.

MC: Pfft, don't you need to escape from me then?

Lucien: I don't need to.

He laughs casually, and there’s even a hint of anticipation.

Lucien: Death is one of my best nutrients.

The static dark screens served as a backdrop behind him. The neon light outlines his silhouette as if it could illuminate everything.

I subconsciously raise the device in my hand and aim it behind us-

Countless images of Lucien appear on the machines behind me. I excitedly sway it back and forth, and the pictures of the machine sway in real time along with my movements.

MC: You need to tell me what's happening when you return!

Lucien: I'd be happy to explain it to you.

MC: Then I also want to know the principle behind it and more!

Lucien: In that case, a certain student might need to put in a bit more effort outside of the experiments.

The sky starts to rain at some point, as if a joyful symphony is playing.

MC: Lucien, do you find this world interesting?

Lucien: [chuckles] Incredibly interesting.

MC: I'm starting to find it interesting too!

I've never felt so free and happy. All the unknowns seem to have transformed into challenges at this moment, and I want to overcome them.

MC: With Zone X being so bright, more people are bound to notice it, right?

Lucien: Probably, similar people will understand its significance. Some will come closer, and some will question it—

Lucien: But perhaps more and more areas will light up like this.

Lucien: The data you brought back contains a very special piece of information.

Lucien: It is said that there is a person in this world who can change everything. The recorder referred to her as — 'Queen'.

I was stunned for a moment and slowly stopped walking.

Lucien stands in front of me, still gazing at me with a gentle smile.

I look at our intertwined palms, and after a long while, I raise my head resolutely and hold his hand even tighter.

MC: If there really is someone who can change everything, I will be that person.

MC: I will be the 'Queen'.

Lucien smiles gently.

Lucien: Then I will witness your coronation.

He holds my hand, steps over the line between light and darkness, and merges into the darkness.

Lucien: Welcome to the new world.

—————Fin————–

[T/N]

*: The Chinese idiom 甘之如饴 (gān zhī rú yí) literally translates to "as sweet as syrup." It is used to describe someone who willingly endures hardship or difficulty, often with a sense of satisfaction or joy. Fun fact: it's also a reference to a line from Aquarium date, which EN server translates differently 🤧

-

[Lux's rambles corner]

Post-Apocalypse AU really ends with a BANG with this one date ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ. Suddenly, putting Lucien at the end makes sense because his dates signify the rebirth of the post-apocalyptic world. No matter how dark, bleak, and filthy the world is, there will always be hope, and there will always be people who try to bring everyone toward a better future 🥺

Anyway, let's talk about this date bit by bit, shall we? Although this kind of feels like a compressed main story, some things are different. Essentially, the first half of this date is filled with foreshadowing and world-building, while the other half is filled with revelation.

First of all, the date name 【新生之约】 is a reference to what XM said in S1 chapter 13-8: "However, you must believe that before things reach the worst point, everything can still be reborn and changed.". The words "reborn"/"rebirth" and "change" are essentially what this date is about.

In this post-apocalyptic world, abnormal radiation unleashed by the 1917 comet impact brings death and illness to everyone. Many scientists tried to research this matter and even went as far as to conduct human experiments. In this AU, Lucien is a “city lord” who also researches this matter, and MC is one of his test subjects. Zone X is considered one of the deadliest, where the people who come here are either at their wits' end, seeking death, or refusing to leave their homes.

[Radioactive Butterfly]

MC’s “CORE” power has an interesting twist on this date. Besides having some kind of power that can change the world, it also makes her deadly to others because her core not only repels the radiation but also absorbs it. I think one part from the [No Man’s Land] event perfectly paints MC’s unique situation on this date.

In Lucien's laboratory, I discovered an exceptionally beautiful butterfly with vibrant wings trapped inside a glass dome, gently fluttering its wings. A. Quietly admire it. B. Open the glass cover and release the butterfly.

If you choose A, Lucien appears behind MC and explains that the butterfly's wing color was caused by radiation, so while it was beautiful, it had to live its entire life under the glass dome. If you choose B, the lab radiation alarm blares because the radiation level inside the building has suddenly spiked several hundred times—it turns out that the butterfly is radioactive.

MC is in the same situation as the butterfly. Her ‘vibrant wings’ (core power) prevent her from living freely. She has to isolate herself from others to protect them. Her life has primarily been one of experimentation, treated as a tool for a future envisioned by many lunatic scientists. Most people don't see her as an equal, but rather as a means to an end.

For MC, Lucien is different from them in many ways.

….I asked Lucien why he never referred to me by my experiment number. Lucien also seemed to ponder for a moment, and then he simply said that perhaps I am not just an experimental subject or a creation.

Take note of how her question doesn't grant an immediate answer from Lucien because this habit is not deliberate; Lucien subconsciously regards her as more than just an ‘experiment subject.'

MC believes that he is different from those crazy scientists. He doesn't hurt her too much and even gives her some kind of small freedom by giving her an isolation suit that allows her to explore freely and interact with other people and living creatures without fear of hurting them. Although she doesn't fully trust him, she still sees him as the gentle and generous City Lord who tried his best to save his people.

But during one of their visits, seeing Lucien's unsettling composure as he tends to the horrific illness, MC perhaps begins to see the other side that Lucien hasn't let her see.

[Eros and Thanatos]

Their time is running out as the radiation tide gets worse in Zone X. And as what they call it, desperate times call for desperate measures. In order to push MC to control her power and free her, Lucien bets his own life with a pretty-much-staged reveal of his other side (i mean, come on, he’s been hiding the whole corpse thing for MONTHS, and you told me he clumsily forgot to clean up one day and conveniently leave traces of blood that can lead you to his dark basement thingy???)

Rather than using the dark side™ to explain his other side, I’ll just use Eros and Thanatos dual theory instinct.

Walking into the city, a man with a festering arm rushed out, accusing Lucien of not only failing to cure him but also making him neither human nor a ghost. Meanwhile, another person lying on a stretcher claimed that it was the city lord who had saved them.

If you choose to ask him, Lucien will react like this:

Lucien smiled and said that the truth shouldn't be told by him but depends on which truth I am willing to believe.

In the early 1910s, Sigmund Freud proposed the theory of Eros and Thanatos. This theory suggests two fundamental forces influencing human behavior:

Eros (Life Drive): Represents the instinct to create, bond, and preserve life. It encompasses sexual and social urges, as well as the will to survive.

Thanatos (Death Drive): Represents an unconscious drive towards self-destruction, aggression, and returning to an inanimate state. It manifests in destructive urges and aggression directed inwards or outwards.

It seems as if the divine and the devil coexist paradoxically within him, making it impossible for me to define him in any way.

As a character, Lucien embodies both Eros and Thanatos. His curiosity, thirst for knowledge, scientific pursuits, and care for life reflect Eros, while his willingness to use painful and deadly experiments even toward himself to achieve his goals and his anticipation of his death signify Thanatos. His Thanatos-driven action highlights a ruthless determination to achieve his objectives; essentially, you can call it his Ares’ side. Not only did they coexist, but both Eros and Thanatos instincts can blend as well. For example, through his use of corpses for biogas production, which is an approach to utilizing death for the benefit of life.

A pure, yet obsessive, mad, yet patient soul

His intentions and ideals are inherently good and pure. He is also a patient man, willing to wait for years for his research to bear fruit. Even if it doesn’t yield anything in his lifetime, it doesn’t matter to him, as he believes someone will continue his path. However, his obsession (in this context, 偏执 means ‘inflexible’ obsession/fixation with his ideal and truth of the world. It contains some stubbornness in it ahah) and madness drives him to do anything to achieve his goals. What he said in Season 1 Chapter 16 is proven true during this date—that he won't hesitate to sacrifice anyone, even himself, to advance the world. MC remains the sole exception to this, as she is the only person to whom he grants some freedom and choice in this matter. He won't sacrifice someone important to him.

[Philosophies of Death and Rebirth]

Speaking of death and life- of course Lucien’s date won’t be complete without some kind of philosophical discussion about them-

Lucien: Humans can feel the existence of life through extreme fear. They will instinctively want to protect themselves, and that drive will generate immense energy.

Around 200 years ago, Kierkegaard shared insights about human existence (Kierkegaard, 1983). He explained that humans are unique because we are aware of our existence and can reflect on ourselves. This awareness brings two emotions: awe and dread. We feel awe at the beauty of life and dread at the reality of death, which can come at any moment. Awe inspires us to live fully, seek love, make connections, and find meaning in life. On the other hand, Dread reminds us of death's constant presence and makes us even more aware of our existence.

MC: So everything over the past six months... was it all your facade?

MC: To make me truly feel fear?

Lucien: [chuckles] No, I want you to always remember the feeling you just had.

Lucien: You should have been constantly thinking, striving to survive, and seeing many scenes.

Lucien: Remember how you used that power and then tame it.

Lucien: Only then will you be complete.

Rather than making her feel fear, Lucien's goal is for her to fully control her own power. I think in the end, they're both using each other to complete their own goal; MC uses Lucien to complete her change, and Lucien copies MC's power so that he can research the radiation himself. It's a mutually beneficial cooperation. Which, although extreme (worst case scenario is that Lucien dead and MC be traumatized by the whole thing) it's arguably the least risky way according to Lucien's enigmatic working mind lol. Like, at least in the worst-case scenario, she won't be dead.

Interestingly, this part of Lucien's dialogue can be analyzed through Heidegger's concept of "being-toward-death."

Heidegger (1962) wrote, “If I take death into my life. Acknowledge it, and face it squarely, I will free myself from the anxiety of death and the pettiness of life—and only then will I be free to become myself.”

Heidegger's philosophy exhorts us to accept death and to use it as a means of understanding the purpose of life. According to Heidegger, acknowledging death allows us to enjoy life to the fullest and cherish the time we have. Death, in this view, can be a source of freedom as it liberates us from the limitations of life and enables us to realize our full potential, in this case, MC fully realizing her power.

So, with all being said and done, is death the end? I don’t think so. Death is not the end, as new life and knowledge can be born through understanding death. Death is not the end, because there will always be people who pick up and continue your path even after your passing. Death is not the end when it can provide for new life to grow, even through something as unhinged as using corpses to produce electricity.

Watching his retreating figure without turning his head, I instinctively crawl out of the black bag.

I feel as if I've just experienced death and have been reborn with new flesh and blood in this moment.

I want to know what he means and see how far he can go.

Death and apocalypse don’t necessarily mean the end; they can even mark the beginning of a new future. After all, only after experiencing death can you be reborn from the ashes like a phoenix.

And while at it, they somehow have ‘wholesome’ heart-to-heart talk… isn’t it silly that they can finally talk frankly when both of them are kind of trying to kill the other-

//just kidding, i personally like this talk because it fulfills something that I didn't realize needed lol. It feels like- S2 ch 23 approach to S1 ch 13 conflict if that makes sense? 😂 like instead of a dramatic break-up, we get them just, communicating their feelings because of their instinctive trust in each other ksksksks. Perhaps it's because MC instinctively trusts that Lucien won't kill her, and her curiosity exceeds her fear. And maybe it's because Lucien trusts that MC can unlock her power that he is willing to bet his own life.

[Future in his eyes]

Lucien: Why change the world? I think this world is fine.

Lucien: What I want to seek is 'evolution'.

What is 'evolution' in the post-apocalypse setting? It's more abstract from Lucien's practice of 'evolution' in the main story (like evolving 'everyone' or straight up ascending the world's dimension).

In this AU, 'evolution' is more about to the process of advancing and adapting to overcome extreme challenges like war, illness, and disaster, which will always permeate human history. This concept of evolution is about finding ways to adapt and advance humanity to solve these crises. Some real-life examples would be how wars and pandemics accelerate technological development. When trying to survive, humanity gains immense power to conquer those challenges.

Lucien: Radiation, disasters, and the like are merely puzzles posed by objective reality, and we are the problem solvers.

Lucien: Only in this way do we qualify to step onto a new level.

According to this dialogue, Lucien sees that the world is already undergoing evolution. The ongoing process of 'solving' post-apocalyptic challenges through continuous scientific and technological advancements is a form of evolution itself. Of course, it's a collective effort, and he is just one of many people who try to solve it. Lucien is not interested in fundamentally changing the world but in advancing and adapting it. However, his ultimate objective is still the same as that of the main story.

MC: What's your objective?

Lucien: A better future. -[S1 Chapter 13]

I don't think MC's and Lucien's ideas of change and evolution clash; rather, they can complement each other. Imagine a seed: Lucien wants the seed to be tough enough to survive in a harsh world by making the seed stronger, while MC wants to change the world so it'll be less harsh to the seed; both of them want a better future where the seed to survive and thrive but through a different approach.

Lucien: [softly] MC, do you know? From the moment you appeared before me, I realized that this world is actually full of color.

Lucien: So, I really want you to see what the world looks like through my eyes.

If there's one thing that MC has already changed, it's Lucien. She doesn't change his view on evolution, but she made him realize that the world is not so depressing and actually full of color: it's beautiful and interesting. So, it would be boring if the world were only about survival.

What is the end point of that evolution? We will never know, but for a start, we can see the beginning of the future through his eyes. Through adaptation and innovation, he generates electricity that can light up the entire area, transforming the deadliest area into a beacon of hope.

While lighting up the area doesn't immediately solve the crisis, it is a step towards evolution. Not only does it aid in a better future, but it also possesses the power of 'beauty'. Quoting from Gallery Date, (beautiful things have the power to inspire people and change their hearts) it can lead to more and more areas being illuminated.

That future even contains his selfish wishes... like a future where MC can be ordinary and free or a future where they can hold hands without any worries.

Lastly, compare these two lines:

Strangers speak in tongues I cannot comprehend, their eyes perpetually fixed on the distant future, but all I sense is madness.

Sharp, resolute, and scrutinizing. He seems to be peering through me to a distant place.

Here, you can see how both Lucien and the mad scientists from her past focus on the future. However, while the other scientists see only their own envisioned future and use her to reach it, Lucien sees the future within her. He recognizes her potential, and rather than simply seeing her as a test subject, he sees her as equal and wants her to be an active participant in shaping the future.

So all this time, he’s been patiently waiting for her to come to his side, then reveal everything and invite her to embark on a long and unknown journey together. After that experiment, both of them had already gotten what they wanted from their cooperation. Now that she knows how to control her power, she can be free and protect herself, and he doesn't need her help to research things in the radiated area. Isn't it ironic that the same person who threatened to lock her up is the one giving her freedom? He will simply drift away and continue to move forward the world in the direction that he wants if she chooses not to. However, he hopes that she will continue to accompany him in moving forward.

Luckily, she takes his hand and they run towards the unknown future together. Rather than the joy of survival, it signifies the arrival of freedom and a brand-new world. He also encourages her to become "Queen" and seek the change she wants. “Welcome to the new world.” text with the screen all black is such a BRILLIANT way to end this date. There is always a trend, but the changes in the world will always exceed our imagination.

Thank you for reading!

[ghostofskywalker]

Where You're Meant to Be - 2

Will Turner/Fem!Reader

Words: 2,017

Summary: After being taken prisoner aboard the Flying Dutchman, you resent the men who have accepted your soul as repayment of another's debt, especially the Captain. It doesn't matter one bit that he's the most attractive man you've ever seen, not at all.

Flower and Meaning: frangipani || the strength to withstand tough challenges

Note: part two of my august work for the @yearofcreation2023!!

Chapters: one || two || three || four

Year of Flowers Masterlist • Will Turner Masterlist

You slowly opened your eyes to see light filtering in through the cracks in the wood, and the feeling of the cot’s bedding against your skin. You slowly reached out and touched the material, and even though it was rough and smelled (just like the rest of the ship) of the sea, you were grateful for the chance to rest on something more gentle than the wooden mast you had been previously tied to. It took a moment to remember all that happened the previous night, and for a moment you worried that it was all a dream. Now all that was missing was a change of clothes and the feeling of stepping out onto dry land, something you would hopefully be able to do soon.

The door to the small room creaked open, and Will Turner stepped inside. He looked tired, and you immediately stood up as if you had been sleeping here in secret, and not as if he hadn’t been the one to allow you in his room. “Is everything alright?” you asked.

He nodded. “On the ship, yes. But I need to tell you something, and it relates to you getting back to shore.”

This was it. He was going to tell you that everything he said last night was a lie and that they’d be tying you to the mast again posthaste. “What is it?” you asked, trying not to sound disappointed.

“It will be a few days before we’ll be anywhere close to land,” he said. “And unless you’d like to take a boat and brave the open seas, you’re stuck here for a little longer.”

Oh. That didn’t seem like it was that worrying, but you supposed after your conversation last night, you did expect to be off this godforsaken ship sooner rather than later. Well, you could attempt to sail off into the sunset yourself, but something in your mind warned you how that might end (and it wasn’t good). “I appreciate the offer of a boat, Captain, but if it’s all the same to you, I’ll wait until you make port.”

A smile crossed Will’s face before he responded. “The Dutchman can’t make port yet, but we’ll get you within sight of land before we let you free, I promise.”

“Why can’t you make port?” You had heard many stories about this ship, but you assumed that at its core it was the same as any other pirate’s vessel, and as far as you were aware, there was no restriction on how often you could stop somewhere.

“As long as I continue to guide the souls of those die at sea to the other side,” Will said. “I may come ashore for one day every ten years, and five years still have to pass before I am allowed to set foot on land again. Like I said, I know what it’s like to be tethered to this ship, and you will not have that fate. The man who wronged you will become part of the crew when he dies, like the rest of them.”

You nodded, and you could see the way his face changed as he spoke. You wanted to know more, but you didn’t want to push him to relive the pain he so obviously had gone through to get here. You had your suspicions about the ship, and the fact that the crew were technically dead, and this only went towards confirming it. “I understand,” you said softly. “And I don’t mind the wait to get to land, as long as you do one thing.”

“And what might that be?”

“You allow me to walk freely among the decks for the remainder of my stay.”

At your demand, Will smiled. “I would never dream of tying you to the mast again, that I can promise.”

***

The experience of stepping out onto the deck of the ship was nerve-wracking. You would be facing an entire crew of (dead) sailors, who believed that the only place for you on this ship was with ropes around your wrists. Other than working in a place where you would come across them quite often, you knew very little about pirates in general. Will had told you that he had no intention of keeping you trapped, but would the rest of the crew listen to him?

It took another day before you truly stopped worrying, and you found yourself fascinated with pirate life. Of course, life on The Flying Dutchman was going to be different than most other ships sailing the high seas, as this crew didn’t really do much in the way of raiding or violence (at least anymore, because you had heard the stories of Davy Jones), but you enjoyed the feeling of the open water and the freedom that being on the deck of a ship brought. No longer tied to land, a piece of your brain whispered at you to stay here forever, or at least to join a true pirate crew when you made landfall again in a few days.

Thankfully, Will kept to his promise. The two of you spent a decent amount of time together, given the fact that you didn’t really want to be around most of the other crew members, whose leering smiles and wandering eyes often caused a shiver to move down your spine, but you never felt that way around Will Turner.

You spent the most time in his room, and he was kind enough to keep allowing you to use his bed. Where he slept now you didn’t know, and you didn’t know if you wanted to ask either.

At night, you spent time with him on the deck of the ship as the rest of the crew slept. The ship often returned to float upon the top of the ocean rather than exist in its depths, and you liked the small break from watching the sea of departed souls travel to between realms (which unsurprisingly, was decidedly depressing). Will was incredibly funny, and your laughter often danced upon the soft waves the ship sailed upon, neither of you caring if you woke up the other crew members. You didn’t know that much about him other than the few pieces of information that had come up in conversation, but he seemed to be more open with you. He was completely alone in life (or death? Honestly, you still weren’t sure), and you could see he had moments where has past ate at him, but you didn’t want to bring him more sorrow, so you kept your questions to yourself.

Well, not all of them.

It was on one of those nights that you finally plucked up the courage to ask him something that you had wanted to from the moment you two had that conversation on the deck and the first time he allowed you to sleep in his room. “Can I steer the ship?”

Will laughed. “Do you even know how to steer a ship like this?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as you approached the wheel.

You were silent for a telling moment before speaking again. “Of course I do!”

“So you have experience?”

Pause. “Yes.” Your voice was a little less certain this time.

“And what experience would that be?”

More silence. He was right, there was no way around it. “Come on, why can’t I just steer for a little bit? What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You could sink my ship, that’s what could happen.”

Now he was lying, and the smiles present on both of your faces were clear that this argument was not that serious. “Can’t this ship never sink though?” you asked, eyebrows raised. “I think that makes it the perfect ship for me to practice with, don’t you?”

He must have known that you were never going to give in with this, so with an exaggerated sigh and a step to the right, you now had access to the giant wooden wheel. This was the brain of the ship, and every tremor that swept through its boards originated at this very point, where you were standing. Staring out at the empty deck in front of you, an image flashed through your mind. In it, you were wearing a pirate’s hat and commanding a crew of your own, but this time in broad daylight. The sun was high in the sky as you spun the wheel and moved freely through the water, wind catching in the sails as pirate colors flew high from the mast.

And through all this, Will was there as well. It may seem like something of a shock, but the logical part of your brain knew exactly why he was part of this particular fantasy. In the time since you stopped hating him, it had become even more difficult to ignore how attractive he was, and there was a part of you that wanted to escape back to land so that the recurring fantasies of kissing him underneath the moonlight would finally stop playing each time you slept, the smell of him strongly intertwined with the rough bedding you fell asleep against every time.

You pulled the wheel to one side, and the ship jerked loudly. It didn’t completely turn upside down, but there was a shift in the direction, and a slightly uncomfortable rocking of the boat that was echoed by the movement of the water. “Whoa!” Will said, rushing back to stand right beside you rather than a few paces away (as he had been before). “What are you doing?”

“Turning. I have everything under control, I promise.”

He tried to look stern, but a smile peeked out anyway. “Somehow I doubt that,” he said, stepping even closer. Now he was standing right behind you, and he gently moved so that his hands were covering yours as they rested on the spokes of the wheel. “How about I help you steer for a little?”

You wanted to make a joke about him not trusting you, or wanted to move a little bit farther away from him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. The feeling of his body against yours and his head almost leaning on your shoulder was intoxicating, and you desperately wanted to turn around and kiss him.

But you didn’t; instead you just stood there and relished in the feeling of his hands covering yours as you gently moved the ship in a large circle around a piece of the open ocean. You were no pirate - this whole experience had taught you that you were far from a natural at all this, but boy did you want to learn more if he was going to be the one to teach you.

After Will pulled back slightly, softly saying that he trusted you to not ruin the ship at this point, you turned around and pulled him into a hug. The two of you separated, but now you were faced with a new issue. He was within kissing distance, and you really really wanted to change that.

The movement was slow, the two of you ever-so-gently testing the waters as you brought your faces closer together, and at first you didn’t even realize that you were doing it. But then all of the sudden his lips were right there, and you were all ready to cross that final bit of distance between you.

Until one of the men from below the deck sneezed so loudly that you pulled away from each other.

“I’m so sorry,” Will said, as if he had suddenly come to his senses. “I didn’t mean to imply anything-”

“It’s fine,” you said, the moment having completely fizzled away for you too. “I’m sorry too.”

It hurt to lie like that, to imply that you didn’t actually want to finish what you started. But all of this had suddenly become too messy, and there were too many unknowns about your situation for you to feel confident jumping headfirst into something more with him.

No matter how much you wished that crew member had sneezed just a few moments later.

- end of part two - 

Series Taglist: N/A

if you want to know when i post a new fic, follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library!

[a-cat-in-toffee]

I originally wanted to talk a bit about Wight and David, and Wight's first "death" because some things have had me thinking abt them but! turned into general wight backstroy talk. <3 warning for discussion of gore and blood and generally wight having a Bad Fucking Time. MUCH LONGER THAN I MEANT FOR IT TO BE, AS THEY ALWAYS ARE....

so Wight and David have the normal distance and weird William and David relationship growing up. They're not close but they're not exactly hostile, y'know? They're less like family and more like acquaintances.

But then William dies. He gets in an argument with his parents and runs off into the woods to try to calm himself down, despite the rain. He slips and falls and falls into the chaos zone and his body and brain get all fucked up. It's still raining by the time he first comes back, not exactly knowing how to deal with the chaos in his body.

He's scared, he's bleeding, and he can tell something about him is wrong. It's dark out but he tries desperately to get home, stumbling through the forest until he gets back. It's hours later than he had left. He manages to get himself into his bathroom, finally seeing the gash giant gash on his face.

Now, head wounds bleed more than anywhere else, but he doesnt know that. He's freaking out. The skin itself is coming apart. So he searches for the first thing he can find, grabbing a stapler and stapling the pieces of his face together.  It doesn't help, even as he tries desperately to clean up the blood.

His parents are asleep, and besides, he can't go to them with this. He's not sure he can ever go to them again. does it make sense? not really, but in that moment its what he's convinced of.

David, though. David, for some reason, he decides he can go to.

He calls David, asking him to pick him up, still very much so freaking out. When David comes to get him he's hellbent on getting William to a hospital, but that just makes him freak out more He's wrong. there's something wrong with him, they can't know.

So David manages to get William back to his apartment, gets a towel around his shoulders and some of his wounds fixed up. Whatever William did to his face seemed to have worked, but it certainly wasn't pretty. William notices the way David keeps wincing when he looks over.

William lives with David for a few tense days, before he can't take it anymore and runs away. He had honestly assumed David had told their parents where he was, and only found out he had been declared missing, and later dead, further down the line.

Wight lives on the streets for a long fucking while, going through crisis after crisis as he starts building up his personal around him. lashing out and feeling out his powers, forcing himself not to be scared of them. But he's fucking terrified.

But he still doesn't know how to control them, not exactly. Something goes wrong, and something goes up in flames. People die, and a warrant is put out for his arrest as a powered individual. He stays on the run for a few months, figuring out how to use his powers and building up his reputation, until he's inevitably caught.

It doesn't matter, though, by the time he arrives at rockfall supermax he's already settled into being Wight. He has to be calm, he has to be in control, he has to be so manipulative. It's the only way someone like him would survive, afterall. He's had that proved to him over and over again.

David knows. David knows that Wight is William, and Wight is beyond angry when he finds out, because not once did David try to step in or help him. Just silently observed while the people who should have saved him and helped him manage this horrible thing that happened to him lumped him in with villains and murderers and threw him in prison. All of them failed him, why should he have any sympathy for them?

[go-to-the-mirror]

@a-mag-a-day

Before I get into the relisten: hot jon rights.

This is going to be another stream of consciousness ramble. Maybe I'll say something good, maybe I won't.

(The official transcript.)

CW for a little bit of paranoia inducing rambling about Alternates from TMC.

BREEKON That's right. Just wanted… to… to drop off a package.

The way Breekon speaks, all broken up. It's just so sad :(

BREEKON Dunno. ‘s not right on my own. Not right. No point in doing it on my own. Dunno what happens now. Thought I might kill you. Missed my chance. Thought I might just deliver something. So, here’s a coffin. In case you want… to join your friend.

It's sad about Breekon hours :( How are you supposed to mourn for a part of yourself? How are you supposed to heal when you're literally incomplete.

BREEKON Make me. [A whooshing noise starts to rise with Breekon’s words, but immediately ceases when the Archivist speaks] ARCHIVIST Stop. [Heavy static rises] BREEKON What’re you doing? BASIRA Jon, what are you doing? BREEKON What’re you— Stop it. Stop it! ARCHIVIST No. [Breekon winces in pain] BREEKON Enough! Stop looking at me! [Breekon lets out a final cry and flees, a door is hear distantly. Static diminishes]

HOT JON RIGHTS!!!! I love this part it's so cool!!! He's so cool.

We started in a plague. Not like the nasty crawlers, but like bringing any other doom.

Fun fact about me, when I learned about the bubonic plague in primary school I was terrified. Not really of getting sick, though I think it was part of it, but of a red cross painted on a door, a mark of death. I was scared of the certainty that if I was infected, I would die. And no one would try to help, for fear of their own demise.

Not really relevant, but there it is.

Two strangers rolling towards them, unstoppable and uncertain, wearing faces they would only half remember, bringing a fate they would beg their god to forget. They could not hate us any more than they might have hated the rock that falls on them from a crumbling cliff. They did not know us, but they knew what we might do to them, what we might bring them.

This! This is the fear of The Stranger that actually gets me. Not the clowns or the mannequins or whatever, I'm not actually that freaked out by those, and I have yet to find art of Nikola that would actually freak me out or scare me. It's this kind of stuff and the Strangers from WTNV. Standing, staring, they could be right behind you, they're not doing anything but they might, they might at any moment attack. They're unfamiliar and strange and you have to be on your guard because you don't know what to expect, but they don't do anything, they just wait, as your dread grows ever higher.

Horror like that makes me very paranoid. I have a page in my notebook of trying to convince myself that the Alternates from The Mandela Catalogue weren't real, and what I was most freaked out about with them was that they could be anywhere. They could be posing as your friends, they could be in the corner of your room, they could be a puppet show on TV, they could be right behind you.

Don't turn around.

He squeezed its first owner until they stopped, and dumped them in a river, and I stayed with the second until they didn’t know who they were any more than they knew what they were.

The Stranger is weird. <3

The winter in Russia was cold, and in the icy air the absence of our breath was clear for all to see.

I like imagining that, something subtly wrong, you don't even notice it until you do, and when you do, you can't stop noticing it.

I have never known hate before. I have never known loss. But now they are with me always, and I desire nothing but to share them with you.

Don't know what to say to this. Just... :(

BASIRA And don’t open the coffin. ARCHIVIST It is addressed to me… … Yes, alright. You’re right.

I like his sense of humour. It's similar to mine sometimes.

Anyway! This is over! I only said a couple things of worth, but I hope you enjoyed the look into my mind regardless!

[strawbrygashez]

strawb if u could please please please write more abt jealous tyler durden 99% its always narrator being the jealous one that 1% is a gold mine

OMG Ikr?? There is not enough jealous Tyler content out there 😭😭😭 what little I have seen of it is so good too.. and it doesn’t feel ooc at all for him in my opinion. Like just because we all know he thinks he is hot shit, doesn’t mean that he can’t get jealous as well. I don’t think he’s particularly worried that someone will just come along and sweep the narrator off his feet and take him away from him one day since he can at least tell that the narrator is pretty obsessed with him (which is such a understatement) but he does get worried when he feels like something is just ‘different’ compared to how the narrator is with most of his other ‘little friends’. He is always wrong bc the narrator is ride or die for him ofc.. ANYWAYS HERE ARE SOME THOUGHTS

•What probably starts making him feel suspicious is if they give the narrator things, if the narrator talks about them more than Tyler thinks is appropriate, if he talks about them too fondly, if they make a plan to hang out one night and Tyler doesn’t get invited, and stuff like that. He doesn’t particularly mind if the narrator has a few pals like Bob and whatever especially if he has met them and knows their ‘deal’. It’s just if the narrator seems a little too happy while talking about them is when Tyler can get a little irked.

•He will say shit like “Well have fun with your boyfriend��� if the narrator says he’s going out for a bit to hang out with someone. If he’s dating the narrator, he will say ‘new boyfriend’ instead of just boyfriend and he will say it in a tone where he sounds ‘done’. If it’s before they date then he might say it a bit more in a way where the narrator thinks he’s just teasing him. He means both with annoyance though. He genuinely doesn’t know why the narrator would rather be anywhere else in the world when he is there to keep him company.

•A lot of questions will go through his mind about the person he finds himself jealous of. He’s so confused about what the narrator is seeing or getting that he doesn’t get from him. He will analyze the person silently if they are in the same room. He will take note of what the narrator smiles about when talking with them, if they give each other little touches, if the narrator is telling the person things even Tyler didn’t know about beforehand, and etc. Tyler is questioning how is this person any better & what could he be ‘missing’.

•I said this earlier too but he just acts like it’s all fine in the moment if he’s with them. He just smiles but the narrator can see something is off in it or in his eyes. If he doesn’t know that Tyler can be jealous, he might just ignore it tbh and keep carrying on as usual and just will think to ask if something was wrong later. (Which earns him silence, a punch, or vague/snarky and or mean comments.) The narrator would assume that jealously isn’t something Tyler can feel. The way he views him, Tyler is too godlike to worry about ‘childish things’ or to compare himself to others but he’s wrronnngg :3

•If they are dating Tyler is much more mean and stand-offish about what happened. He’ll ignore him or brush him off. He expects the narrator to know what to apologize for. He thinks there is no way in hell the narrator doesn’t know what he’s angry about :/

If they aren’t together he’s still stand-offish but not as much but the narrator can just feel the tension even during normal conversations.

•If someone (that wasn’t a family member) got the narrator something as a gift, he sooo thinks about tossing it out or breaking it. He can pass it off as a ‘don’t bring new things into my house without telling me’ type of thing but he just doesn’t want a reminder someone might be trying to ‘woo’ the narrator. Until he feels comfortable enough to break whatever it is, he will glare at it or make mean comments about it. Like in my mind im picturing a plushie or some small item that doesn’t actually serve anything useful.

He might be a litttleeee nice though and not actually break or throw away whatever it is and just actually hide it somewhere and just say he did. He wants to see his reaction and if they manage to talk it out, he will set it out for the narrator to find later on.

[starfall-spirit]

The Silver-Tongued Bride

STB Masterlist

Summary: Feyre has been selected as the High Lord's next bride, destined to die at the next fortnight's dawning. However, her intriguing retelling of Rhysand's favorite tale has just saved her life.

Until the next Death Dawn, of course.

Word Count: 2202

CW: Mention of sex.

Chapter I: The Bargain

Feyre

Feyre rubbed her arms against the chill of winter, cursing her own stupidity. With the sun setting, a biting wind had overtaken the forest she always staked out when it was time to report to the High Lord's spymaster face to face. Seeing as she was perched on a tree branch with thick foliage around her and she had yet to fully train her gifts, lighting Autumn's temperamental fire to warm herself didn't seem like a brilliant idea.

Though this forest was their usual meeting ground, Feyre never took up the same post twice, keeping the shadowsinger and general on their toes. Mostly the general, even as he rarely accompanied Az. The spymaster wouldn't be worth his name if he was caught off guard by a Wraith up a tree.

"Talk to me, Feyre," Azriel ordered.

She smirked as the male beside him scanned the area, still failing to spot me. Dropping down from the tree right in front of the general, I grinned. "Clever as always, Feyre."

"I've been labeled Az's best Wraith for a reason, Cassian."

She’d been employed to the High Lord and his shadowsinger for three years now and her informality with the pair had led to certain speculation among her fellow Wraiths, females who made up the most elite legion of Azriel's spy network. The gifted, so to speak, as they shared something of likeness to the spymaster’s travel and the whispers he received.

Feyre’s sister spies weren't entirely wrong in their assumptions. Cassian flirted and I had found myself fantasizing about one or the other—sometimes both—on a few lonely nights. But professionalism was always at the forefront, especially face to face.

"What have you got?"

She huffed. "Not much this week from my scout points. Any training camps have been quiet and there's barely a whisper on where Autumn's loyalties lie, but I think we should get our own soldiers in place and be ready for them to open the doors for Hybern's armada. If you could propose reaching out to the other solar courts at least, it may give us leverage."

"I didn't expect you to get much, considering the wards and network they have running. I don't want you anywhere near Hybern's territory, you hear me?"

Because she would. Feyre had been labeled Azriel's best because she was cunning, quick, quiet, and willing to go to lengths my sister spies wouldn't even take the time to consider. That dedication was what kept Nesta and Elain in pretty dresses day after day, after all.

"Archeron," Cassian warned.

"I hear you," she bit out. "Any news for me?"

They exchanged a look that had nothing to do with her attitude. Cassian took a step closer. "The High Lord will be selecting a Night Bride from your village in the next few months. Do your best to blend in. Pardoning you should be easy enough if it comes to that, but Rhys can have... bad days."

The dark ink beneath her sleeve and glove seemed to burn as thoughts of its creator and their time in Amarantha’s court began to surface.

"We'll look into Helion and Thesan's help with Autumn," Az told her, readying himself for flight. "It will be delicate. Their views on Rhysand's... Well, there will be some awkward moments. Hopefully they'll prioritize winning the war."

There was a reason no one crossed the High Lord. Not only was he more powerful than most—all—but the Bride Killer’s practice of beheading his wife every two weeks wasn’t exactly a warm conversation opener.

“What would make him stop?” Feyre breathed, half-fearing the wind would carry her question back to him. “What would end this cycle?”

Cassian snorted. “End it? Short of finding his mate there is no ending it, Feyre. Just stay out of sight, if you can. He hasn’t picked a Wraith yet, but you’re still nameless. The whole group, I mean.”

She raised a brow, caught between skepticism and surprise. “The High Lord doesn’t know the names in his top spy network?”

“He knows I make sure intelligence is up to par,” Azriel told her. “The minor factors are irrelevant, considering his own responsibilities. As long as you girls have my trust, you have his by default. Does anything else matter?”

“I was just curious, Az.” She bit her lip, finally delivering a question she hadn’t dared ask before, afraid of the answer. “I would be pardoned by your recommendation. Would my sisters?”

This practice of the High Lord’s—if she held immunity and they were killed by it she knew the guilt would consume her faster than the lives of the fae beneath the mountain ever did.

“Are either of them married?”

“A few males have offered courtship, especially Elain.”

He gave her a look of pity and the embers of hope snuffed out. “I don’t know when he’ll select your village or if he’ll even consider your home, but if you want to protect them then you need to tell your father to marry them off to the first lord who offers.”

“The last lord who offered received a well-earned injury for forcing himself on Nesta. They will choose their own husbands, in their own time.” Feyre had spent enough time being ordered about and she wouldn’t do the same to her sisters.

“Rush them or risk them, Feyre. Play matchmaker yourself if you’re concerned about honor, but remember where his eyes will turn soon.”

Passing over a pouch of gold and silver, he gripped Cassian’s arm, leaving her alone in the freezing woods. Following their example, she folded herself into that travel pocket unique to her kind. Something between a shadowsinger’s travel and the gift of winnowing.

She kicked the snow off of her boots before entering the foyer and straight into the main living space. Even living here this long, what they had regained upon the revival of their social status could seem like a fantasy. It amused her at times, thinking back to her sister’s original assumptions. Feyre was twenty when her work for the court began, my Wraith gifts under control. A month later she had earned that month’s worth of spiced food and thicker blankets.

Later came boots. Dresses. Coats for my father, though he hardly left the house with that bad leg. Saving for a long while, they managed to move from a hovel to a home.

Nesta dared ask me once what wealthy lord in our village Feyre was whoring herself to, turning Elain’s face red at both the implication and their sister’s inappropriate vocabulary. Feyre merely said there was no lord interested in the third daughter.

They pestered her for ages for the source of the family’s new income, perhaps wondering if they should be earning their keep, rather than risk their renewed status.

The first time Feyre entered the house smelling of faerie blood rather than an animal’s, they’re tongues were held beyond a, “So you’re… employed?” from Elain.

She received a mere, “That’s classified.”

And it was. Sometimes Wraiths used their gifts for simple scouting and gathering information. Other times there were things or people they needed to… handle. Quick and quiet was the policy and if Az didn’t want them at the Court of Nightmares, well, they handled it. Feyre’s only consolation in the beginning—staring into the pained eyes of her first kill—was that he worked for Hybern. He was not innocent. She would never need to kill an innocent again.

Kicking off her winter boots, she crouched in front of the roaring hearth to warm her frozen hands. "About time."

She stiffened at Nesta's snarky welcome. "You have every creature comfort, Nesta. The only reason I could think you might be lecturing me about how long I'm away from home is that you truly worry for me."

"A bit, seeing as half the time you come home looking like you've just killed someone. A day may come when they kill you. Then where will we be?"

"Budgeting and working, perhaps?" Feyre suggested. Finally turning to face her sister, she sighed. "I did receive news today that you need to hear."

"What?"

"Go get Elain." Reading Feyre’s grim expression, Nesta didn't question her further, retreating down the hall as Feyre shrugged out of her coat. She glared down at the ink revealed, particularly hating that eye in the center of her palm as she forced herself to consider Rhysand may be coming for more than a bride in these next weeks. She finally sank into a chair as her sisters took the couch beside it. "There have been proposals extended to the both of you."

They exchanged a look. "Marriage proposals, you mean?" Elain asked.

Feyre nodded. "The High Lord is moving east. It could be two weeks or two months, but he will be visiting—"

"How do you know this?" Elain interrupted her for once. “He never announces his selection ahead of his arrival.” 

She hesitated. "People hear things, within the court. Some of those people see me in passing and find their information convenient to pass along. I hear things of other sorts that tend to be equally important and pass that along. The point is, the High Lord will be visiting our village, that much is unavoidable. You two need to be married before then. Or at least engaged. It may deter him with singles present."

"Just us?" Nesta snapped. "Are you so brave as to face the Death Dawn, Feyre? Or just arrogant enough to think you'll survive it?"

Feyre sighed. "I'll be fine." Her sisters exchanged a glance that said they had no confidence in her claim. "What, he revived me just to kill me? I don't think so."

"Oh, don't get so cocky, Cursebreaker," Nesta sneered.

Oh, yes. Her sister was grateful Feyre freed her from that hell in The Middle, but she despised that it was her people had treated like a goddess when the three of them came home, whispering Feyre Cursebreaker, Savior of Prythian. It was her, wielding fire and ice and wind and water.

Above all else, she hated Feyre for the moment she slipped into her mind during an argument, no matter how many times she insisted it was an accident. Feyre knew exactly who had passed on daemati magic and she may just despise him more for that than for his long, long string of murders, Under the Mountain and above.

Three years had passed since Amarantha's downfall and Hybern was suspiciously slow in taking any war action. Then, that gave them more time to prepare. Still, she knew something big was brewing, by instinct more than any scouting and spying.

Her thoughts returned to the current conversation, seeing as Nesta looked ready to keep laying into her. Fortunately she was interrupted by an urgent knock on the front door. "I'll get it," she grumbled. A moment later, "Who the hell are you?"

"Where's Feyre Archeron?"

"Who's asking?"

"The High Lord's spymaster."

Feyre cursed. "Az, since when do you use the front door?"

"Since when do you keep vital information from me?"

"Vital information? What have I supposedly hidden, shadowsinger?"

His eyes dropped down and she pinned her left arm behind her back. The pair had been to see their High Lord, then. Azriel stalked across the room, pulling her arm towards him for inspection. Even in the height of summer, she had covered the scrawl of ink during her report meetings. "Only the Night Court uses ink like this," he remarked, back to that chilling calm he was known to keep.

"And? I'm a resident, aren't I?"

"You failed to mention you're Rhysand's little pet."

"I'm not his little anything." She grimaced, taking a step back as he released her. "We made a bargain... down there. The wyrm ruined my arm. It was infected and I was in that filthy cell. Fae healing wasn't doing anything for me in that hell pit. I had no choice."

He searched her face for a tic. A lie. Anything.

"No one was coming for me, Az. No one. I had a continent to free from that bitch, so I said yes."

"You didn't have to encourage him," Elain murmured. Feyre whipped around. "Did you see us down there? Did you see us, held by guards, watching you dance for him?"

Her cheeks suddenly burned, but she suppressed that humiliation as quickly as she could. She danced to keep breathing. When her mind was near tatters she danced to keep grounded—as grounded as she could. And remembering that, she found herself digging a deeper hole, wanting this over and done with.

"Just ask. I know you want to." Neither her sisters or the two Illyrians in the living room could bring themselves to say it. She chuckled. "I thought the bargain was for show, after leaving me be all this time. He got me in his bed after the second trial and the rest was void. Another male having his fun and leaving the rest behind."

"Rhysand doesn't just have fun and run, Feyre," Cassian told her, genuine worry in his tone. "There is always, always an agenda. He isn't anywhere close to through with you. Say your prayers tonight, sweetheart. Tomorrow you're his."

Previous | Next

~~~~~

AN: I rarely write over 1500 words so don't expect this often.

Tag list: Reach out to be added or removed.

@faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @goddess-aelin // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @reverie-tales // @acourtofwips // @jealousveronya //

@darling-archeron I assume you mean for me to tag you as a general Feysand reader, but don't be afraid to say otherwise.

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Bird in a Cage

I am a bird in a cage, and I have been set free. I lived in hell for a while. A physical hell, with the radiator cranked up to the maximum, blood dripping from my crown of thorns. It scorched me, draining the life from me. There was no woodland, no seasons, nothing but the endless steel, towering spirals of ferrous spines and silica exoskeletons, stealing even the sun from my gaze. It was not a dry, sweatless, empty heat like a desert. No, I was denied even that minute comfort.

It was a spiritual hell, too. Silent pressures around me, within and without. Eyes everywhere, watching from hidden corners. Trials with no chance of success, like Sisyphus and his boulder. I moved until my body ached all over, heaved until I felt numb and blank, pushed until I cracked. And then I looked up and realised I hadn't gotten anywhere after all. The hill before me stretched endlessly, the silent pressures ebbed and flowed inexorably, and the eyes watched and laughed. 

They cackled when I cracked and more blood spilled, they snickered as I split at the seams and my guts fell out, and they mocked me and I made a mess of myself. When I tried to patch my wounds, they gave me a heavier burden, so heavy that my makeshift bandages bled through and fell in tatters, so heavy that my chest caved in and my wings cracked, so heavy that even my heart laboured to beat beneath its weight. But I tried anyway. I pushed on, endured, survived. And I sang, as birds are wont to do. I sang of hope, of a world where I wasn't collapsing. Of a Heaven, far away and safe from hell.  They laughed, as they always did, and it hurt. But they had broken my body; they wouldn't break my spirit. And so I sang on, even as I lost hope. I sang of spite, and revenge, and strength in times of adversity. I sang until my throat grew hoarse and my dry mouth ached and the words were just wordless melodies. Then I screamed, when I could no longer sing. I screamed until I coughed up blood from my failed lungs and screamed some more.

And finally, finally, they let me go. I fell out of my cage as an unsightly, bloody, broken mess. I fell out of my cage as I began to die, as the last drop of hope evaporated, as I gave up. I fell out of my cage and into Heaven.

Heaven was temperate. It had snow that fell into swathes of pure white, coating my burns and soothing them. It had trees, forests of them, endless wilderness for me to love and live in. I hopped through them in those first, unsteady days, leaving a trail of red behind me. I gaped and stared at those great trees that hung above me, at the wind that whispered my name and sang my songs.

Heaven was safe. It allowed me to heal, away from prying eyes, away from the pressure, away from my boulder. My lungs regained their strength, my lacerations closed, my body putting itself back together. I flew for the first time, then. The sky was so open, and I was so free. I tasted freedom, and drank it like the heady drink it was. My songs turned to celebration, joy, triumph as I washed away the past.

But Heaven was just another hell. The cold that soothed was biting, the wind harsh and cruel. The lack of eyes felt empty, the lack of pressure unnatural. I craved my boulder, to have something to push and lean against, something to try to defeat, even if it was impossible. The sky that was so open and free was too open, too free. It scared me. It still does.

My body, without the wounds and the cracks and the falling feathers, feels wrong. I want the safety of the bars, to know and understand every inch of my little hell. I lived in it for so long, it was home. It is home.

I am a bird out of my cage, and I yearn to go back in. 

[asheimmortal]

In the latest chapter of my insane life, I'm in Oregon and not dead because of a band I found on TikTok.

I pretty much summed it up in a video I have pinned on my TikTok but basically I was getting burnt out in Chicago of having men scream at me and threaten me daily for just existing, my license was going to expire with no address to keep it, I got a bogus ticket with passengers in the car who said I did nothing wrong, and I said fuck it and left Chicago to off myself.

But I ended up getting into a shelter back home but that was going to be limited to when my car's registration expires. And after 2 HUD denials among another avalanche of shit falling down on me like it did in Chicago, I took off for Oregon.

But here's how it went...

Even back in Chicago I was still trying to process things I still can't fully process, and the idea was to try to find some reason to live, something to help my mental health, and I had the idea to try to just get back to me, who I was before life started really shitting on me and kicking me when I'm down all the time. That's when I bought the guitar (again) in 2021. But as things got worse, just having a guitar again wasn't enough. But I had still made up my mind to be a goth until the day I die and not ass kiss or people please or try to appease anyone anymore.

But I got deeply depressed in the shelter in Morgantown even though I was grateful to have a place to stay and shower daily. But I was horribly depressed, felt I'd never get anywhere, I'd never get HUD, my time was limited to my car's registration, the discrimination laws had passed in WV to where evryone from HUD to a Walmart employee could deny you service.

But during this time there were several people on TikTok that just watching them helped a little. All musicians and bands and one who just sings. At least I had those lives to look forward to seeing late at night.

But then I came across Fangbanger on a live playing in their garage. I thought they looked interesting enough to watch. I liked the energy. The comments were funny. People kinda make fun of them in the comments but the funniest was someone said Löded Diper. Haha. Sorry can't help that made me laugh. But I thought they were cool and I liked the music.

Their name stuck in my head though. I told someone about having seen them on live and that person told me it's a term from True Blood for people who fuck vampires and I said that's exactly what it sounded like to me - vampire fucker. Hah.

Then I saw them on live a 2nd time where they had mentioned what their band name was before and I couldn't remember what it was when I looked them up on YouTube to hear their stuff again. But I really liked it. Vertigo was my first favorite and something I could relate to. Things were just going downhill. Something I've already been crucified and slandered horribly over. But there were like 2 weeks of just being yelled at and shit on by someone I truly loved and like always, I try to hang onto things for dear life, I couldn't let go. I never wanted to let go. I never thought shit would end up this way.

Then I saw Fangbanger on again where I got it this time, to look up their stuff under The Faint Endless. And my 2nd favorite became Disappear. Which was about the time that was the real beginning of the end. Being told that it's selfish, arrogant, prideful and conceited of me to love him and have the feelings that I do. So fuck that! I've never been so hurt in my life and I've been told since the 4th grade by -everyone- that I'm too ugly to love, have no business liking guys, that its wrong for me to want someone special in my life, and I make guys miserable just by looking at them, and all that fucking shit. So Disappear REALLY fit the moment. Then came the shit storm online. And the 2nd HUd denial. And the choose between your car or the shelter. So I did disappear! I fucked off all the way to Oregon! Don't fuck with me!!!!!

But I really fucking love Fangbanger! I've loved their music, their energy, there's just something I connect with. I've thought that they're like what I wanted to be when I was a teenager and always wanted to have a band that would be something goth-punk-goth. Like a dial with Fangbanger on one side and The Sisters of Mercy on the other, and you can turn that dial for just the right amount of moodiness or anger. Or something like that.

But meeting them was surreal. I've met Jamie (Twiztid) like 100 times over, I've had a million beautiful moments over 5 years that got flushed down the toilet, nuked, and shit all over again, but the moment I met them just felt unreal. It was great. I'm shy too. I saw Ven at a distance and didn't want to shout out "Fangbanger!" in case it wasn't any of them and some stranger just thinks I'm crazy. Lol But it was her and she called the rest of them over and it was just so wild! They're also the first people altogether that I've met off TikTok. And I can't believe I got to hang out with them! They were sooooo nice to me too! And they are cool af to see live. I don't think I have the words to say just how great they are all around, as a band and as people.

I attempted to tatt one of their logos on me today using the kit I haven't touched in 3 years. Low confidence with my skin being super weird. I hope there's at least a line I can trace over if/when I have to touch it up. Fingers crossed 🤞.

For real, I fuckin love Fangbanger, I can't say enough good things about them, and they really pulled me out of the depths of the darkness I was in and I'd have been found dead in my car in the woods of West Virginia if I hadn't had something to run towards. They're the fucking best.

❤️💙💜🤘❤️💙💜 P.S. 3rd favorite...finding their older stuff on SoundCloud... I was parked for the night at a rest stop here south of Portland and first time I heard Death in December I just fucking cried.

[librathefangirl]

When the Past Comes Crashing - Chapter 2

ao3 (Chapter 2/7; 4k+ out of 6k+)

The Seven Deadly Sins deal with the fallout of their latest mission, and Meliodas wakes up to a new, somehow even worse situation as an old grudge shows its face. Chapter Prompts: Day 2 – Captivity; Creepy Captor.

Warnings: Blood and Injuries, Blood and Gore, Torture, Child Abuse.

Heeey, I'm back! For those who don't know, I got sick like the day after I posted chapter 1, which is why the rest of this story didn't come out during the actual event. But now, we have chapter 2 at least. The rest will come eventually too.

This chapter is even longer though, as a treat. And because the angst just kept coming. So, yeah, if you're not comfortable with blood, injuries, a little bit of gore, a little bit of torture, and the likes, well, this chapter (and this story let's be honest) might not be the one for you!

Read Chapter 1 here! Read Chapter 2 on ao3 or under the cut!

“What the fuck did you do?!” Ban growled. He’d stepped up until he was right in Merlin’s face. His eyes basically glowed as they met hers, and his breaths skid harshly across her cheeks. If she had been anyone else, she would have faltered under his presence – but she wasn’t.

“First of all,” Merlin grit out and gave Ban a shove hard enough to force him to stumble several steps backwards. “Don’t pin this one on me. This wasn’t my choice. I didn’t want this.”

“And yet you just left him!” Ban’s hands shook and Merlin couldn’t help but sigh. They’d been going back and forth like this for a while now. It wasn’t going anywhere. But it also wasn’t like she could blame him – or any of them for that matter. Still, none of this was helping Meliodas.

“I wasn’t my choice,” Merlin repeated. Her own hands curled into fists as she glared back. If there had been anything she could have done – anything that wouldn’t have meant all of them buried by the time she was finished – she would have. Deep down, Ban had to know that.

But from his perspective, Merlin had left Meliodas to die.

In a way, he wasn’t wrong. That was what she had done, wasn’t it? She glanced down at the sword in her hand. She hadn’t put it down once since Meliodas handed it to her. It felt heavy in her grip. Of all the idiotic things Meliodas had done over the years…

“I’m sure Miss Merlin did everything she could,” Escanor spoke up in her defense. Merlin wished he was right, but for once she wasn’t so sure. Even if Meliodas would come back from death, letting him die was not an option she should have taken. Was there something she could have done?

“What?!” Ban turned sharply, his gaze snapping to Escanor instead, who scrambled backwards with a squeak. He hid behind Merlin, who sighed again.

“There are still a lot of things you don’t know. Especially about the captain,” she stated. All of the Sins – except for Gowther who was still busy studying the rubble on the ground – watched her carefully. They were all aware of this on some level, of course, even if they couldn’t comprehend the depth of it. “But I wouldn’t have done something that would have gotten him killed!”

Not in the way they thought at least. Hopefully not in the way she thought either. King looked like he wanted to say something about her comment, a troubled frown pulling on his face, but then he just shook his head. He averted his gaze at the same time as Diane leaned closer to Merlin.

“Then w-where is he?” Diane asked. Her lower lip wobbled dangerously, pulling King’s focus to her. He rubbed her arm comfortingly.

“I don’t know,” Merlin admitted reluctantly. This hadn’t been something she’d considered. This wasn’t something that was supposed to happen. Even if the whole mission had been a trap, she had thought it was meant to be a death trap. Not this.

By the time they had been able to make it back to the top of the hill, the sun had already set. The villagers had been hysterical at the mountain collapse. The Sins almost as bad – although less obvious about it – with the realization that Meliodas was still in the house. So, they dealt with the villagers’ problem and not with their own and then went back to the house. The house had been completely buried. Though when the Sins made it there, someone had already dug it out of the rocks.

There was blood but no Meliodas.

– X –

If there was one thing about physical pain that Meliodas had learned over the years, it was that at least it proved that you weren’t dead. Meliodas had been dead before – sometimes even welcoming it – but not this time. This time he very, excruciatingly so, wasn’t dead. It probably was a good thing too. He wasn’t quite ready to leave the rest of the Sins, and definitely not Elizabeth, on their own. Not when they depended on him. He also wasn’t ready to have that conversation with them either.

So, good news: Meliodas was still alive. Bad news: those were the only good news around.

Meliodas’ body screamed with every breath he took. Note to self, don’t get buried by a fucking mountain. It hurt. The air went in and out his body, yet still left him gasping. He opened his eyes slowly, groaning at the way even the dim light pricked at them. His hair stuck to his face – from sweat? Blood? Both? It tasted metallic in his mouth. Probably blood then.

As he became aware of his surroundings he also became aware of the poorly lit room he found himself in. He was sitting on the cold floor, slumped against the wall in one of the corners. A small lamp hanging somewhere high above his head cast some light on his section of the room. He didn’t recognize it. Not that there was a lot in it to identify it in the first place. His body felt bruised and, in some places, even broken – but he wasn’t actively bleeding, and he wasn’t dying. Either his body had managed to heal a bit while he was unconscious, or somebody had done it for him. Only partially though. Just enough to keep him alive but not fighting. They had also bound him to the floor with heavy – most likely demon proof – chains. Go figure this day would get worse. He should never have walked into that house. Except that meant the villagers would have had to dealt with their ghost – or demon as Meliodas was now suspecting – all on their own, which was… also bad. Unfortunately, the trap had been a good one. It was well-thought out, hinting at someone with the smarts to plan it and the patience to let it plat out.

A soft melody reached his ears. Soft in a strangely familiar way. In a way most people in Britannia wouldn’t even call soft at all. The words echoed around him with a special kind of assorted quality. It brought back memories Meliodas had long since locked away. It also made his focus snap back full force. There were only three people in Liones that he knew that could speak that language: Merlin, Gowther and Meliodas himself. This was obviously coming from another source.

The humming suddenly stopped, and Meliodas felt a clear presence out in the shadows, just out of the way of what he could see. He tried to move – but couldn’t. Sharp pains shot through his arms and legs as the shackles dug into his skin and pulled at his injuries. Meliodas doubled over, involuntary whimpers slipping past his lips. Heavy, slow footsteps came closer until a figure stopped in front of him. The silence hung heavy before a voice chuckled bitterly.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” The old but familiar demonic language stabbed at Meliodas’ hearts in a way only few things could. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

– 3,000 years ago –

There was something about the throne room that had always made Meliodas feel trapped. Though it wasn’t something undefined, nor a thing at all. It was a someone. After all, the throne room was the place his father holed up in to control and destroy the lives around him. That was, when he wasn’t busy watching souls be tortured in Purgatory. The throne room always made Meliodas feel trapped because he was. It was the one place where he couldn’t pretend like his life was his own, his choices his to make. In there, he was nothing more than his father’s puppet.

Today the feeling was worse than any other day. Of course it was. Now, he wasn’t letting go of the pretense anymore. Now, he was still holding onto the control as much as he could. He was deceiving the Demon King, plotting the end of his war, right from his own castle. Drole was right, this was incredibly risky. But the other option wasn’t an option to Meliodas. Because it meant betraying his father in plain sight. It meant actually siding with Stigma, with fucking Ludociel. It meant leaving the Demon Realm, leaving Zel.

His father towered over him, and Meliodas forced himself not to flinch. He remained stoic and unmoving, keeping his gaze down. The floor dug harshly into his knee as his father’s rage wrapped around him. A panicked voice in the back of his head yelled at him: He knows! He knows! Get out! He knows! Meliodas pushed it down with practiced easy. If he’d listened to every little notion of danger, he would have been dead a long time ago. They had a plan. He just had to stick to it.

“You really claim to not have noticed?!” The voice of the Demon King thundered in Meliodas’ head and sent his ears ringing. A large hand wrapped around his throat, sharp nails threatening to break his skin as Meliodas struggled not to fight back. Fighting back never helped. It only made his father angrier. Having him angry at him was the last thing Meliodas needed right now – or rather angrier. He was constantly angry, and disappointed, and demanding more. So, instead Meliodas breathed through the pressure on his windpipe and let enough hate through to make his gaze sharp.

Meliodas glared at his father, pushing out the words, “You think I wouldn’t take action against somebody sabotaging our mission?”

His eyes flashed and Meliodas knew the hit was coming. He was still helpless to stop it, the force of it sending him collapsing to the side. His head thumped against the floor as blood trickled down his neck from where his father’s nails had dug a little too deep. Meliodas clenched his eyes shut, biting back a groan. Above him, his father’s shout sent more spikes through his aching head. Always so loud. Big, loud, hateful. It made Meliodas miss the days away from here even more. Elizabeth’s gentle touches. Gloxinia’s playful banter. Drole’s quiet calm. People who genuinely cared about and worried for his wellbeing. The one person he would risk it all for.

“YOU DARE LIE TO ME?!”

“I’m not,” Meliodas protested as he pushed himself back up. He swayed slightly as he retook his position, bowing at the Demon King’s feet. He did it out of habit and necessity – so far he wasn’t his father’s main suspect and he needed it to stay that way – and not out of whatever respect his father thought that he deserved. Meliodas couldn’t remember a time he’d bowed out of respect that wasn’t driven by fear.

Heavy silence hung over them as his father contemplated the truth to his words. Meliodas hadn’t lied. If somebody else had been sabotaging their missions, he would have taken action. After all, an adversary to the Demon King’s orders was a potential ally to their cause.

“Even if you didn’t,” the Demon King started again. The rage in his voice was still so loud even when his voice had quieted. “You’re the commander. It’s your failure either way.”

This wasn’t good. Not really anything new, but still not good. It would make everything riskier with the Demon King on high alert.

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Father,” Meliodas muttered, trying to stay steady.

“What was that?” Make that ticked off high alert.

“Yes, father!”

“Then get out of my sight! I haven’t decided what to do with you yet.” The Demon King turned his back towards him, walking back to his throne – where he was going to sit while his people killed themselves for him. For a pointless, stupid war. “You’re both dismissed!”

Meliodas staggered to his feet and walked with hurried steps towards the door. He didn’t dare to look over at Zeldris, the unfortunate and silent witness to it all. He managed to get out from the throne room without stumbling. The heavy door slammed shut loudly behind him. He made it halfway down the hallway-

“Brother!”

Meliodas froze at Zeldris’ voice. His legs locked up, keeping him in place in the empty hallway against his wishes. All he really wanted to do was run away. Away from the throne room, away from his father, away from the whole fucking Demon Realm. But he couldn’t bring himself to just walk away from Zeldris. Not now, when he could feel his presence so close, his fingers brushing through the air at Meliodas’ back – reaching out but not quite reaching.

“What is it, Zel?” Meliodas asked without turning around. He ignored the still insistent pounding in his head as he locked his emotions down, down, down. Behind him, Zeldris hesitated, in the way he always seemed to do around Meliodas. It didn’t fit him. His usual stoic demeanor faltering, his words failing. This time, Meliodas waited. This time, Zeldris spoke up again.

“What really happened?”

Meliodas sighed. Distress easily masked as annoyance. He lifted one hand up to his own throat and let his fingers brush over the skin. The blood hadn’t dried yet. The thick, sticky substance was a stark reminder of his father’s still looming threat. What had happened? That was the question, wasn’t it? Meliodas had gotten reckless, that’s what. Too bold in his moves, the wrong demons noticing. Everything was teetering on the edge of a cliff right now. On one side, safe ground; peace. On the other, certain death.

“Not anything you need to concern yourself with.” With those words, Meliodas started walking again. He’d barely made it three steps before Zeldris called out for him once more. Despite his better judgement, Meliodas listened. He stopped and turned around to face his brother this time. In contrast to the uncertainty in his voice, there was no mistaking the determination in Zeldris’ gaze. He lifted his head, back as straight as ever, and looked Meliodas in the eyes.

“I can help you.”

Meliodas entertained the idea for a moment. It was a pleasant, alluring thought; his baby brother fighting right by his side. It was a fantasy, and nothing more. Zeldris wasn’t actually offering what Meliodas wanted him to offer. To Zeldris, Meliodas’ issue was someone else sabotaging the mission. He wasn’t sure how Zeldris would react if he knew that Meliodas was the saboteur, nor what he’d do if Meliodas actually asked him to betray their father. It was better this way. With how their father had taken one sabotaged mission, Meliodas didn’t want to imagine what would happen when the truth eventually came out. It was better – safer – to just keep Zel out of this.

Meliodas shook his head and started heading down the hallway again, “Then just stay out of it.”

This time, Zeldris didn’t try to stop him.

– 3,000 years later –

In the end, it was Gowther’s sudden exclamation that finally pulled Ban from his anger – or rather, Merlin assumed, the sudden demonic word leaving his lips. The other looked up at him startled, while Merlin nodded her head, walking over.

“Yes,” Merlin said as she crouched on the ground beside Gowther. The pattern in the remains of the floors was clearly visible in the light from King’s Chastiefol. “I noticed that too. We both did, right before the collapse.”

“Oh.” She saw the realization flash in Gowther’s eyes. At least he understood why Merlin had left Meliodas behind, that she hadn’t had a choice. With the hand that wasn’t holding onto the dragon sword, Merlin ran her fingers over the now cracked sigil. It had been broken, but not by the rocks. Someone had done this.

“So, us coming here was a trap,” Gowther commented.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Ban asked, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, as the other crowded around them.

“And what is that?” Diane questioned, pointing down at the sigil.

“It’s a powerful spell from the Demon Realm. A forcefield created to trap specific people,” Merlin explained and stood back up. It wasn’t a faulty explanation, more misleading. It was created to trap specific people as in people of the demon race – though that wording would only lead to questions they didn’t have the time to answer. Especially now, when Merlin was starting to realize just how dire a situation Meliodas had gotten himself into. Besides, it was answers that the captain should really be giving himself; when the day came that he finally stopped avoiding those questions.

“A spell from… the D-Demon Realm?” King looked more distressed than Merlin had seen him in a long time, possibly ever. Understandably, of course. The demons were a lot more real a threat to him than most people in Britannia. He knew their might, had seen what they’d done to his country.

“Does that mean a demon is behind this?!” Diane exclaimed, looking around as if expecting something to jump out of the shadows.

“It’s a valid assumption,” Gowther theorized. “From what I gathered from the villagers’ memories, they’ve been attacked on multiple occasions by shadows coming to life. An ability that’s generally only seen amongst demons. There were also strange happenings of plants and livestock suddenly wilting and dying. All of which could have been cause by miasma.”

“I found residue of that inside the house as well,” Merlin added.

“What’s-” King cleared his throat shakily. “What’s miasma?”

“A negative energy that permeates the entirety of the Demon Realm and all of its inhabitants. While it’s a source of power and life to a demon, it’s lethal to any living thing outside the Demon Realm. If the miasma is pure enough, even a rather small dose could cause a healthy tree to rot within mere moments.”

The others stared horrified at Merlin’s words. Everyone except Gowther, who was already well-versed in the subject and instead seemed to be lost deep in his own thoughts.

“All signs seem to point on this being the work of a demon,” Merlin continued, glancing down at the dragon sword again. Maybe Meliodas dying would have been a better ending to this mission? “And is most likely behind the captain’s disappearance as well.”

“But I thought all demons were sealed away long ago?” Escanor asked.

Merlin inclined her head, “They were.”

“There’s still been demon attacks,” Ban muttered darkly. His fists clenched together to the point of drawing blood, but he didn’t even seem to notice.

“What would a demon want with Captain?” Diane questioned worriedly. What wouldn’t they want? Merlin though quietly. There were just too many possibilities. Every demon had one reason or another to wish him harm.

“The answer to that,” Gowther said, looking over at them with a frown, “depends on who they are.”

– X –

Meliodas stared up at the figure as black eyes stared back at him. It was a demon. Just like Meliodas had suspected. That much was clear now; the eyes, the language, the black mark crawling up his throat and chin were all obvious indicators of that. Not to mention the wings of darkness that formed into impressive size behind him. They were just wings of darkness though, which meant that whatever power this demon held, he was still only a high-level demon. Winged demons were only seen amongst the top-level of all demons. They had also been a fairly known group in the realm because of it, especially to someone of Meliodas’ rank. Beyond his own family, as well as Chandler and Cusack, Meliodas had only personally spoken to a few Winged, but he’d known of most of them. This demon, however, he didn’t know. But he clearly knew Meliodas. Not that surprising of course. Eldest prince, future Demon King, traitor; Meliodas had hardly been unknown.

The demon crouched before him, tilting his head slightly as he regarded him with a crooked grin. He was big. Not quite as tall as Ban, but just as well-built. Dark, messy hair fell down well below his shoulders, framing his face in a black halo. Even beyond the blackness in his eyes, there wasn’t a hint of warmth. Looking into them was like looking into a void of everything people expected demons to be: cold, harsh, and something unidentifiable but sinister.

The demon reached out slender fingers and brushed the bangs from Meliodas’ face, savoring in the way his body tensed up under his touch. He trailed his fingers across Meliodas’ skin, across the dried blood on his temple and all the way down to his chin. His sharp nails scratched uncomfortably over his cheek. He then continued down his throat and over to his dislocated shoulder. Glee shone in his eyes as he gave the wound a harsh squeeze. Meliodas bit down on his lip, blood filling his mouth as he fought against the urge to scream at the pain rippling through him. The demon continued with a disappointed hum. His fingers pushed painfully over the bruises coloring his chest and ribs – some of which definitely were broken – until finally he came to a stop at the gash on Meliodas’ thigh.

Meliodas memories were blurry at best, nonexistent at most – but given the pain and the look of the wound, something had been impaled his thigh during the collapse. There was still a gaping hole in the flesh, more blood threatening to ooze out at any moment.

“Lord Meliodas,” the demon taunted, words sharp and dripping with insincerity. Then suddenly he jabbed his finger into the gash. Meliodas couldn’t stop the scream that erupted from his throat that time. Black spots danced across his vision as the demon twisted his finger around, setting Meliodas leg on fire with pain.

“Oh, you’re quite nosy,” the demon commented as he pulled his finger out. He held it for them both to see, watching both it and Meliodas with a satisfied gleam. The finger was coated in slick red. “I think I’m going to enjoy our time together, after all.”

The demon sucked at the bloody finger and sighed contently, while Meliodas slumped closer to the ground with heavy pants. Given his father, with his expectation and his war, Meliodas had been taught to fight before he learned to run. He wasn’t used to feeling this helpless. A traitorous part of him wished for the rest of the Seven Deadly Sins to come bursting through the door. For them to tell him he didn’t need to fight this on his own.

He knew they wouldn’t. He didn’t even know who this demon was himself, how would they be able to find him? No. They would come. He had to believe that. He trusted them, but… would they even want to? If they found out the truth about him, would they still come to save him?

Merlin would. Gowther too. But they were different. They already knew he was a demon. The first time he met them – even if Gowther hadn’t been able to remember it for a while – was when he was still living in the Demon Realm. To them, nothing would have changed. To the others, everything would have. A demon had taken the love of Ban’s life, had killed King’s sister and burned his forest to the ground. Even if Diane and Escanor didn’t have any stories like that, Meliodas doubted they had any love for his kin. Would they have any left for him?

This was why Meliodas didn’t want to tell them. It wasn’t just because of Elizabeth’s safety – that, in one way or another, he could ensure. If he told the truth, they would help make sure the curse wasn’t triggered. No, a big part of all the lies was because Meliodas could stand to lose them. They had saved him as much as he had saved them.

“You look absolutely miserable,” the demon suddenly commented. He gave Meliodas a bloodied grin for a moment before his face fell. He leaned in close to Meliodas, breathing his next words in his face. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

Meliodas just glared at him. His breathing had calmed down a little, but his leg still burned.

“Well, it doesn’t matter in the end,” the demon continued, brushing a thumb across the fresh blood on Meliodas’ lip. “Because I know all about you. Traitor.”

He rose to his full height, towering over Meliodas, “Well, then. I think it’s time for you and me to have a long overdue talk.”

To Be Continued…

[compassionatereminders]

Hi sorry for the long ask. i think i might have depression or something. I just feel like im always looking at people through some kind of mask, idk. Like i dont fit in anywhere. And sure at work that might just be normal for me bc ive always been a bit different than everyone else but i also feel like i have to pretend to be someone im not even with my best friend. Im just very low on energy all the time. I used to like art i think? I dont even remember if i actually liked it or just pretend i like it. Right now i feel like ive just been saying i like art because it's always been like that but do i really still like it? I sometimes dont draw for months. I feel like im not good enough at work, im a graphic designer but im not creative at all and im being compared to my coworker by my boss and it sucks. I just started my job 2 months ago but i already want to quit but i dont know what else i want to do. The only thing im maybe a bit decent and interested in is design and art even though i dont know if i even like it or if i just pretended to like it for too long that i dont know the difference anymore. On top of this my dad is sick and its incurable and he's literally gonna die soon and he's too young to die.

I just feel like something is wrong with me, at this point im hoping something is wrong with me so it can be fixed. I dont want this to just be my personality. But i dont really want to seek professional help because i dont want my mom to worry. There's so much going on for her already, im the person she depends on the most right now and i dont want to make this more difficult. And of course i also feel like its not bad enough to really count as any mental illness or something. I mean it's not that bad, it might just the the winter season that's making me sadder than usual. And the entire situation im in. And also the fact that i just dont know what i want regarding my job. So its not that weird that im low on energy and i dont want to draw something for my friend that he asked for even though i have 4 days in the week i dont have to work. But i dont draw on those days, i only watch series all day. In the morning i lie down on the couch and in the evening i get up to go back to bed and that was my entire day yesterday and Wednesday. Just no motivation to do anything fun other than this.

You dont have to diagnose me or anything but any personal thoughts on this?

Btw i started following your blog because somewhere last year when i could feel myself just needing some encouragement and positivity. The posts really did cheer me up a little for a while.

While I won't try to diagnose you, it does sound like you are genuinely struggling - and even if this does not qualify as mental illness, that should not prevent you from seeking help and answers. Because the earlier you reach out for support, the better are your odds of avoiding a severe mental health episode. And it's better to worry your mom a bit to get better than to bottle all of this up until it reaches the point of no return. Because you're right that something is going on here. And even if you aren't mentally ill, losing a parent is by itself a major life crisis and a very good reason to seek out therapy and support

[sophia-raz]

Diary of an Anxious Bitch

I can't live with a fear like this. What can I do if night time, actual fucking night time is a trigger. Night always comes. I can't avoid it like it's orange juice or talk radio. My mind has become a fist that is squeezing every joyful emotion out of my being, out of my enjoyment of being a parent. It holds me down until I'm literally shaking and clenching my fists pleading to virtually every god in case one of them might be real and take mercy on me. It's so idiotic I can't stand it. This irrational mother fucking thought sequence has become the majority of my reality. One therapist told me, the "why" doesn't matter. So naturally I ask, well why not? She says because even if I knew why, it wouldn't help me feel better. Cool....

The reality is right now, I dont want my kids going anywhere or doing anything with anybody. The fear that they'll get sick and we'll have to go through that all over again is ridiculous but very, very real. What am I so afraid of you ask? I've been trying to figure that out. I don't 100% agree with the therapist that told me I need to stop looking for the "why". Don't we need to ask why to get to the root of the problem so we can address it appropriately? The fear seems to be the only thing I can focus on. Every situation is experienced under this deep dark suffocating cloud of anxiety.

I'm a good parent God dammit. I listen, I guide, I comfort, I stay up all night with them if I have to. I just need time to relax. That time use to be once the kids went to bed, but now that I'm afraid of the dark again for reasons other than monsters or dinosaurs hiding in the basement, my relaxation is at an all time low. Sometimes I feel like I'm the kid who needs mom or dad to tell me everything's ok, its all in my head and Im safe and loved. When I tell myself that, my inner dialogue laughs manically and says yes dear it is in your head, but there's no escaping it. BECAUSE YOU ARE YOUR FUCKING HEAD. No big mom and dad bed to crawl into anymore to feel immediately safe and secure. God I miss that.

I want to stop shaking every time the sun goes down. Stop obsessing. Stop this irrational bullshit that somehow has elected itself board director of my mind. It's not enough to know that's the case either. Like, yes, I know you're full of shit subconscious interpretation of past trauma that is feeding my moment to moment conscious experience.  Fuck off already. (Cue manical laugh). Then we repeat the carefully selected mantras and start again the next morning.

Straight up now, I know theres nothing "wrong" with me. So...why does it feel so much like there is? There I go with that WHY again. Life is a big shit show, then one day you die. Yikes, take a breath or 5. Am I ok with that interpretation? No. Nevermind comparing my life to others who seem to have it all together, I would just like to freak out about normal stuff like cancer or facism. Though I'm sure that's next in line if I ever get over this fucking garbage. No time to worry about real shit! Just over here obsessing about stomach flu and fevers.

While I don't personally believe in a God, I envy those who do. That kind of faith brings some security, much like mom and dad's bed. Funny I panic about these things that are so ridiculous but can't believe in something equally ridiculous. How selective of me. If you have faith and don't use it as a reason to hate or hurt other people, hold the fuck on to it.

[persefoneshalott]

continuation to this post about Grantaire and Nocturnal amaral album, in the album order

TAKE ME FAR AWAY (LLÉVAME MUY LEJOS)

If my life is going downhill and I can’t stop it. If days pass you by at full speed. If it seems like I’m looking for something that can’t be found. If I believe I’m going back and I don’t get anywhere. If this is the path we should take.

Lift me up to breathe the liquid oxygen in your lips I want to sleep to wake up in a parallel universe a refuge in another dimension.

If we’re fighting alone and we can’t win If everything was clear before the beginning If this is the path we choose to walk If this was your will

...... SOMETIMES YOU WIN, SOMETIMES YOU LOSE (UNAS VECES SE GANA Y OTRAS SE PIERDE) I've hung on in the exit line Until I hear that shot that marks a signal But the panic of failure holds me back, Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose.

I've looked into the depths of your eyes, With dilated pupils, like a tunnel without end.

..... WHAT KEEPS US UNITED (LO QUE NOS MANTIENE UNIDOS)

I give in to your way of saying no to the current that took us away United, incandiscent like torches who set on fire everything they touch United in the contradiction like the sting to its poison

We were like a molotov cocktail gunpowder burned by time The last endangered species that's what we are and will be

As if I understood what we are or will be what keeps us united and increasingly more defenseless increasingly more dry increasingly going further until we melt like icebergs

Every day I die then I resurrect from the dead and I'm unstoppable

...... THE FOG (LA NIEBLA)

I don't want to sleep I want to stay awake If you could see me Navigating through the fog

I don't want to look back To turn around If only you could light my way through the fog

.......... LABYRINTHS (LABERINTOS)

Where is love and its destruction? Where is euphoria? Where is depression? Where is the country of our senses, Of every beat, of every breath?

Where is addiction born? In the labyrinths of our imagination.

Half dazzled, half visionaries Under the banner of now or never, There's no answer to your questions, Only a vast sea of doubts Where does it howl, the animal that keeps alive, What we once were? Where is real love? In the labyrinths of our imagination. In the labyrinths of our imagination.

If we're asleep or if we're sedated, If we're the living dead or only slave And there's no answer to your questions, Only a turbulent sea of doubts.

............. SCRAP (CHATARRA)

Last night Written on my face Free me from this hangover

Why else did you come? If there's nothing here Only emptiness and scrap

Tell me why the streets Are deserted, I can't see anyone Tell me why my legs Won't support me, if you know

Tell me why my mind Is divided in two halves Tell me why my life Has stopped at this moment

Everything is lost You were whispering to me At six in the morning

........ IN THE WRONG TIME (EN EL TIEMPO EQUIVOCADO) And you going in desperation And you going in a rush We're just like caged animals We're the same, only anxiety/yearning moves us

We've grown up with clenched fists We're the masters of an imaginary country

I'm asleep with my eyelids sealed you're hanging like Christ upside down They want to see us domesticated, trained, anaesthetised

............. NIGHT OF KNIVES (NOCHE DE CUCHILLOS)

I don't know you, but you're coming to find me, An army of shadows in the Night of Knives. I know that you're coming to find me You don't want to leave me alive And what did I do? I only wanted to be myself. You're armed to the teeth While I'm not yet dressed. If you want to be a soldier I prefer to be a kid.

Accepting I'm your prey and Emigrating to another planet Where you won't mark my door Where the people's soul Won't go out with time And there won't be a moral At the end of every tail And there'll be things More important than money. Where I won't be strange Just because I'm different To you

[gayspock]

or something

its all so fucking empty man its all so fucking empty i dont know whyits so much easier for everyone not to even do things but just be a fucking person man i donteven care i feel like im just forcing it down my own throat half the time im just nto here any more i havent been here for years its never going to matter or mean anything i dont know i wish i could even be dramatic and be like ohhhh everyone leave me behindddd but wouldnt that imply that there was anything to begin with god idont know i dont know i jsut get angry and fucking upset over everything theres nothing that helps nothing that ever fucking helps its non stop its just that that that until you roll over and force yourself to shut up or die and either way it doesnt matter it never fixes anything part of just wishes i could feel it matter foronce i dont need it fixed i dont need it to be better ijsut want one thing to feel likeits meant something even a fucking little bit i think every day about that i wish i killed myself properly as a kid something something you'll regret it in your last moments i dont think ive spent a single fucking day where ive went to bed at night and thoguht that meant something i dont think a single day of my life has been anything to anyone but made me upset and miserable something something ive just been on this stupidfucking cycle for years and years and years. it has never not once been fucking worth it for a second living past that. i should have fucking died when i was 16 and sad. fuck every single fucking thing ive done since then and i mean that. something something loop and loop and loop you .want to kill yourself so badly and feel so overcome with loneliness and cry more because you cant make anything right start to fade out lose months let them go by until it breaks down again and back to that and theres no change its just back and forth ive not gotten anywhere ive circled in my fucking cage endlessly and i wish it mattered i wish a day fucking mattered i wish it could have meant something once just once i dont talk to anyone i just fucking sit and cry and its been so long and

i cant do it right i feel liek im insane sometimes because everyone talks about struggling it makes me want to fucking claw my eyeballs out the next fucking cutn to share their struggles with me . because yeah fucking sucks i wont say it doesnt suck nonetheless i feel like such a rancid fucking cunt for i. ecause god i want to fucking really hurt people sometimes. oh im sad so youre telling me oh youre alone youre fucking alone too. how the fuck does that make me feel when your parents love you you talk to people people would notice if you disappeared you have a partner or have had partners that love you. theres someone i cant manage anything i cant do it any more i never fucking managed it because its not just the now its not just oh it sucks now its just been a structural. its been everything its never not been fucking like this i keep tryng i feel like im just a freak and sometimes i wish there was something fucking wrong with me for real its jsut theres nothing in there worth sticking around for or loving and i know thats what it is deep down but i cant even simulate it properly i cant fucking muster anything i cant fake interests in things i cant fucking do it im too fuckig tired i dont wantto wake up any more i dont want it to get better because it fucking wont im fucking sick of ti im just waiting for it ot end and i just feel like everyonekeeps telling me it'll get there but its nothing but an excuse to get me to fucking shut up because it doenst matter its a fucking sit there and fucvking rot you fucking worthless bitch i wish theyd just be honest with me sometimes i wish anyone would just be fucking honest i wish people would have me around even if they dontlike me i dont care what happens any more i cant do it i keep trying i cant do it its just every fucking time i dont know i dont have it in me i dont have anything in me and it doesnt matter i wish it mattered ive tried and i just dont know what im doing wrong and im just always some bitter jaded assholeand i know its making it worse but i cant . fucking do it any more . i feel like im being insane or whatever oh you mustnttttttt ive been having insane thoughts about other shit again i feel so removed from everything and redacted or redacted how i cant do it cuz of work, thinking about taking a month out just so i can repeatedly redacted without anyone fucking getting in my business but who cares i think i should quit and well what then i dont know i need somehting to fucking stop theres nowjhere to go theres nothing to do DOES ANYONE FEEEL. CRAZY i feel like i get further every day and i was already so fucking removed i struggled so badly but the more and the more time i spendthe worse it fucking gets i cant fucking level with anyone any more and i cant get back by myself im not fucking enough to do it i dont man i think does anyone feel MENTAL