#I didn’t think I was so weak

[sharkenedfangs]

— ☆ “SPIRALLING CYCLE — I MEET YOU HERE, AGAIN.”

#. — synopsis. sleep, his initial intention, the original plan impulsively made ahead or so he had promised, but y’know, sleep can be a bitch sometimes and damn it all if he’ll ever truly receive it for real, this time.

#. — content warning! angst with some eventual comfort at the end, mentions of physical abuse here and there, substance abuse with alcohol, shit household overall, negative self-perception, a groggy whitney and a glimpse of his life through his own lens.

#. — word count? 2.5k

#. — extra extra! ashes snippets : “too embarrassing to vent about my problems, so why don’t I make blondie here, experience it instead? except all ends well with him and not with me.”

Dappled sunlight faintly seeping through the silken blinds, smoothly draped over the glassy windows to tenderly kiss at Whitney’s drooping eyelids, tiredly shut away from numerous attempts at resting. Sleep, his initial intention, the original plan impulsively made ahead or so he had promised, but y’know, sleep can be a bitch sometimes and damn it all if he’ll ever truly receive it for real, this time.

‘Course, today or specially last night, it hadn’t discreetly knocked at his awaiting door nor contentedly graced him with a visit of its own, therefore, here he is. Stupidly awake at the crack ass of dawn and consciously aware of the ticking clock signalling the approaching hour, dizzying, red lines mundanely staring back at him to readily showcase the eventual obligation he’s stubbornly set upon himself. Fuck. If he doesn’t soon get out of this shitty hellhole life has bitterly stuck him with, then the occasional pebbles clumsily thrown against his rattling bed window will be sure to stir the other bitch up.

Said bitch probably awkwardly sprawled along the used couch, rusty springs threatening to pop free underneath the stitched mattress due to the sheer pressure of their sleazy form resting atop of it. Beer bottle drunkenly discarded forth from their loose grasp, hanging limply below to paint a grimy picture he’s been greeted with time and time again. Just stinkin’ up the fuckin’ place at this point, but who’s he to make the shots on that? Bitter son of the house and he’s acutely familiar with what that position entails. Say the slightest word and he’ll be good to go explore the shadowed streets, end up at that shoddy brothel worst case scenario.

Takin’ all the damn space though, as it had been repetitively affirmed before, he should be fuckin’ near grateful he even possesses a space of his own — no matter how cramped it may well be. No matter how suffocating the bleak walls gradually narrowing in on his curled frame may be sickeningly tight around his dry throat.

Speaking of, he’s getting thirsty here and so are the impatiently growing, muffled shouts of his gang aimlessly straying along the bricked wall of his apartment, boringly kicking at chipped rocks to pass the excruciatingly long stretch of time he’s taking to get the fuck up. Fine. Dirtied blonde, messy haired boy here, s’got the message sent his way. Stifled groan easily slipping its way past his chapped lips, instinctively yearning for the nearest source of a fresh, preferably cold drink to quench his endless thirst annoyingly itching at the back of his throat. Old, dinky fridge’s gotta be somewhere here, fuck— the kitchen. Obviously, dipshit.

Becoming as dumb as the fuckers you hang out with which are the only dumbasses to mindlessly follow him along wherever he so pleases, huffing and puffing like a group of stray mutts pitifully pawing at its owners feet for some much needed attention. Well, they’re not receiving it anytime soon, far too preoccupied with searching for some fuckin’ water— shit, even beer will do, even if it sets him on the same level as that drunken piece of shit to be greedily swallowing down alcohol early in the morning.

Groggy footsteps steadily dragging him towards the stretched hallway, memory settling in thickly as per usual, his feet automatically straying away from the creaking floorboard he’s known to soundlessly creak beneath the slightest weight. Don’t wanna wake the fucker up— doesn’t have the patience nor probably the maturity to properly deal with ‘em face on, specially when the oddly warming sun has recently risen.

No, he’s not a goddamn coward, just too good of a bastard to waste his precious time he mostly spends on fooling around doin’ nothing. Anything will do as long as it isn’t spent in this stifling flat where recollection beckons him in turn and crappy guilt forcibly gnaws at the bruised flesh of his slouched back. Coward? No, he says — but, his subconsciousness subtly whispers out otherwise. Liar.

Marble set in stone, routine playing out as faithfully expected by the absentminded tugging of his sweats, idly scratching at his balls beneath the cotton material all the while reaching for whatever catches his eye in the flickering light. Stupid bulb that never got fixed is really gon’ have him punch the fuckin’ ceiling one day, knowing better than to do so, instead tentatively taking a swig of a cooling bottle of.. something. Definitely strong with how it pleasantly burns within the pit of his churning stomach, momentarily soothes the doubts away in his chattering mind. If only the intoxicatingly warm effects of alcohol were eternal— Scratch that. The blonde knows life would be shit regardless, but at least you get to be drunk while doin’ it.

Hell, if it kills him, all the more better actually. A sullying stain dreadfully misplaced upon this shit world now rightfully wiped away, like he had never existed to begin with, fuck. Everyone wins if the troubling delinquent causing problems ‘round town cleanly kicks the bucket off, randomly dies in some stinky ditch somewhere in the darker alleyways as God would’ve had fuckin’ intended anyway. If there is one, for that matter. Because at the end of the day, he’s just some boy with a troubled mind and split knuckles bloodied up from previous fights — don’t know which exactly, he’s lost count by now. And, this make-believe deity the deluded temple has carefully fabricated isn’t going to spare his ass one bit for the awful sins committed by him, or so the stuck-up nuns keep repeatedly preaching to him whenever they catch sight of dirty filth.

Walking further down the elongated hall— it’s funny, place isn’t even that damn big in comparison to the ones out on Danube Street, yet practically feels like it’s eating him out from the inside with every careful step taken. Get the fuck out, get the fuck out of here before he groggily wakes up, not that they’d possibly care for his absence or presence when it doesn’t mean two shits to ‘em if he fails school, but does he give a shit if Whitney so much as bothers ‘em in any shape or form. Intentionally or accidentally, he claims, all results in the same exact scenario. A purplish bruise painfully etched across his wobbly limbs, bound to leave a residing mark. Bloodied, fucked up nose trickling out scarlet stains for his tongue to messily swipe against later, taste the metallic residue in his mouth as reminder for his actions. Serves him right.

Having gotten the harsh lesson driven into him, body naturally adapting to seek an escape of any kind, finally pausing at the sight of the wooden door with the jiggling chain left unloosed. Fuck, didn’t even lock the damn door? Saves him the gruelling effort of having to deliberately sneak amongst the heap of dirtied laundry riddled onto the ground, notably remembering the fact he can’t go prancing around outside half-naked. When you forget one fuckin’ detail—

Sure, this is the town where you get repeatedly raped on a regular basis to the point where no local resident even bats an eye to the supposedly, morally wrong act — which they never actually take a stance against, fuck if he cares — however, last thing Whitney wants is to instantly draw attention to himself already as it is. Yeah, the urging temptation is there, shivering jolt passing throughout his spine at the mere thought, but he’s not in that particular mood. No, not right now. Blatantly ignoring the sickening sight of his bulge visibly straining against his sweats, hot, leaking tip staining the greying fabric a darker shade. Morning wood, he supposes. Or just cuz’ he’s the type of guy to get high off of received attention when intentionally done.

Great coping mechanism for that affection you’ve never received early as a child, huh? Fuckin’ shut up— Goddamnit.

No point in sleazing ‘round here any further, not with the increasingly apparent risk at hand and the selflessly given opportunity to make his escape for the day. As always, his hasty departure goes unnoticed for the entirety of the upcoming hours, weeks would be a plausible period of time too with how unimportant his mere presence is at the shit hole one would reluctantly call ‘home’. Shit, if it works in his favour, all the more better for him. Gets to roam as he so pleases all night and who’s gon’ stop him for it? Yeah, that’s right. Normalcy instilled within his mind that this is how it should be. A parent worried sick over his own rebellious child fooling along somewhere amongst the bustling streets filled with bums? Sure, like that’ll happen.

While you’re out here daydreaming over stupid shit, why don’t y’a throw some clothes on? Idiot.

What else to wear than a plain, white shirt, which he somehow isn’t directly in any possession of at the moment. Merely leaving him with the sole option to steal a flitting glance towards the limited closet shut at his side. Thing isn’t going to squeak too loud if he delicately opens it, right? Better fuckin’ not. It’s in the blonde’s inborn nature to be instinctively rough, though discretion is a useful skill he’s conveniently learned when stuck in sticky situations like these, specifically. Cautious palms placed against the hatch, soundlessly sliding the door open to give way to the few attires hidden in the confined space.

Ah, there it fuckin’ is. His scruffy leather jacket hung upon the metallic hook, sewed patches prominent around the torn edges of his sleeve from the wear and tear accumulated over the passing time. Shit quality, but it’s ultimately his alone to wear. And, fuck it if he’ll wear it with pride no matter how used it appears to the naked eye.

Swiftly slipping on the cheap garment before momentarily regarding the broken zipper loosely hanging at the hem of the leathered cloth. Thing just had to wordlessly give up on him at the crappiest of times with the seasons progressively shifting to a cooler weather, chilling breeze bound to have his bare frame subtly shivering underneath the thick material. Likewise, he’ll manage somehow. Doesn’t he always?

Maybe if it was any other day, he would’ve taken a second more to consciously scrutinize his sharp features dimly reflected in the dirtied mirror, visibly scowl back at the glassy surface displaying the very thing he hates to death— Not today, however. No, plan already dully simmering within the tight confines of his mind, action he willingly chose to take.

So scandalous in every sense of the word that stupid ol’ church boy Sydney here would’ve profusely reprimanded him of such wrongdoings, frantically swat away at the revolting notion he was fully ready to carry out. Hah, makes him unconsciously smirk to envision his shocked expression paired by the quivering squirms of his fist tightening around that annoying, red pen. ‘S it so ‘disgraceful’ to a goody-two shoes with an easygoing life like him?

Guess it’s time to openly show him what piles of shit like Whitney someday, end up at. Barely sparing one forgetful glimpse to the cluttered dump he has to regrettably live in, a flimsy goodbye that’s less of a ‘good-bye’ than a good riddance sort of gesture. He’s not one to be sentimental, regardless. That crap is for fuckin’ snotty losers like the tearful orphans he regularly corners in the shady alleyways near the orphanage, choked up pleads falling on deaf ears when his knuckles disgustingly crack against the beaten flesh. A means of distraction for what he’s gotta lamentably endure on the daily. If he’s gotta suffer then, might as well bring a goddamn couple of nosey brats down with him too. Shit excuse and he knows it, doesn’t stop him from doing it either way.

Rushing past the creaking door, forcibly slamming it shut solely to spite the surrounding neighbours sleepily soaking in the approaching dawn, jolt their dumbasses awake as he laughs it off with a resounding snicker and of course, not to forget— his boldened signature move of a straight ‘fuck you’ shot in the windows direction. Whoever may fuckin’ see it by chance, may they remember that snide grin and those golden locks of hair messily tumbling forth to obscure his gleaming eyes. Cocky boy causing trouble, the first name to be softly whispered when an incident occurs on the local streets, Whitney. Yeah, they better fuckin’ hammer that name into their hardened skulls. Yell it out to the goddamn world.

“Whitney! Hey! Over here!”

Fucking hell— He totally forgot those morons were still loyally waiting for his eventual arrival out here in this icy weather, freezing their asses off till’ he got out of the house or flat, whatever they call it. Fists snugly shoved in his pocket jeans, freshly lit cigarette already comfortably tucked between his lips to then appreciatively take a slow inhale of the fag before casually exhaling out a puff of smoke to meld with the cooling air.

“Fuckin’ idiots. You’re still here? Scram, I’m not in the mood.” Barely hiding the faintest traces of a smirk creeping on his lips at the sight of his gang appearing like a bunch of stray dogs without him in the middle, where he rightfully belongs. Fine, he’s in somewhat of a good mood right now. Why not play nice? “Whatever, you guys can come if you want. I don’t give two fucks either way, just don’t fuckin’ start with that dumb shit again from last time or I’ll dump your asses in the nearest river and watch you fuckers freeze to death.” Classic tactic of ‘I actually want you to come and if you don’t, I’ll kill y’a.’

Holding back the snicker that’d ease past him once they gleefully raise their heads to meet his serious gaze, implying that he isn’t joking— he means it. Really does.

“See, what’d I tell y’a? He’d be happy to see us—” One naively chirps up while the other simply smacks their head in retaliation, puffing and crossing their arms in turn. “Fuck off! If it weren’t for your genius idea to stand outside in the freezing cold, my hands wouldn’t be fucking turning blue by now, y’a cunt!”

“Oh, shut up! If you hadn’t complained the whole goddamn way then maybe—“

Usual banter ensuing as per usual, told those fuckers not to do it and they still do. Hah, what the hell did he expect in the end? Wistfully sighing out to his warning being plainly ignored, hands coming up to run along the golden strands of hair in an easing habit to soothe the headache he’s getting from merely listening to ‘em. Head drooping lowly in a half-assed attempt at covering his widening smile threatening to fuck the whole act up. Bunch of freaks, aren’t they? His gang, though.

Which he’ll never concede to, no. Can’t have ‘em know he’s secretly grateful for their constant presence and insistent tugging for him.

“Cmon, you morons. Pub’s still open till midnight and I’ve got a fuck ton of money to spend from that slut. Drinks are on me this time, you better be grateful I’m sparing y’a a penny.”

No, he can’t possibly admit the simple fact that they make the difficult things in his shitty life, slightly more bearable.

[shima-draws]

Ghost Cora AU where he’s actually been following Law around ever since he died but nobody has been able to see him, so all he’s able to do is watch Law get hurt and suffer in silence. UNTIL, miraculously, the battle of Dressrosa ends, and for some strange reason—through some supernatural bullshit or maybe just fate—one person is finally able to see him.

Law is sitting on the deck of the Yonta Maria watching everyone party when Luffy comes trotting over to him. And Luffy plops down beside him and says, “I’ve been meaning to ask, Torao, but who’s that really tall blonde guy with the funny makeup that’s been following you around?”

And Law’s just like

[crybaby-bkg]

sorry I’ve been on such a Dabi high lately but I almost croaked earlier at the thought of being his college gf and just being so opposite of each other!!!!!! you’re all good grades and perfect attendance, easily approachable and sweet smiles. and he’s all grumpy faced and dark clothing, makes people nervous whenever he stands outside smoking right by the doors.

who the hell would’ve thought you two would end up together? it just didn’t make a lick of sense seeing you two from the outside. but when they get a glimpse of you guys together, alone, everything just falls into place.

he’s so supportive of everything you do, no matter how dumb or nerdy he thinks it is. he keeps count of your stitches for you when you crotchet, doesn’t mind being your model for a cropped hot pink sweater you’re creating, wears the knitted beanie around campus that you made for him. he hates not having your attention but he takes some of the same classes you take so that he can help you study, quiz you when you’re not too sure of the subject, maybe even help you cheat if you want (you don’t, but he always offers).

he buys you your favorite drink at the cafes and always carries an extra laptop charger in case you forget. he helps you pick out your outfits when you’re unsure, and loves the opposite aesthetic whenever you stand hand in hand with him. he praises you when you succeed, and comforts you with your failures. he looks like a dirtbag that hangs around campus to be a creepy bum, but he’s there for you through and through <3

[kicktwine]

oh so alisaie’s exaggerated bully behavior is 80% fanon. saying this she casually picks up a large rock

[seraphicalsuccubus]

I’m sorry for a really heavy post but um, I am literally in the throes of the most intense and miserable and fucking sickening and psychologically convoluted mental fucking battle with my paranoia and straight up panicking myself senseless right now, so I really need to just vent about how I feel like my anxiety just decided it needed to beat the ever loving shit out of me with a fucking steel chair or some shit, out of nowhere for no fucking goddamn reason at 4 in the morning and just left me to fucking rot afterwards, so like ?? okay ?? thanks for this ??

but it has done so to the point where I’m shaking uncontrollably and can’t relax any part of my fucking body and I’m cold like, in my fucking bones, which is weird. and I just feel this very debilitating sinking feeling that something very, very bad is coming for me. and soon. as if it’s very much so this imminent threat and going to happen very fucking quickly. but out of absolutely nowhere so I won’t be able to brace myself for it even though I know it’s coming because I still don’t know when it’s coming. I just know that it is. and it’s like I have this deeply rooted pit of that like, fucking terrifying, stop you in your tracks despite wanting to force yourself to just run until you can’t anymore in any attempt to try to get away from it, kind of fear that has grown in my stomach so fast that I feel physically sick. and at the same time, I also have what feels like a huge hand balled up in a fist and tightening everything I have in my chest and I can’t fucking breathe.

I feel like I’m suffocating and drowning and I’m being whirlpooled in this fucking wave of unending alarm bells sounding from every nook and cranny in my head right now from my intuition telling me something isn’t right and also warning me of something worse on the way. because it’s as if this … this horribly intense, chilled to the bone, fucking heart stopping, breath catching in your throat and physically choking to death on the fear, just absolutely sickening feeling of fucking dread has made it’s nasty little unwanted self a home in me for the time being, and I am unable to evict it or ignore it no matter what I do. it’s just fucking buried itself deep in the core of my being and my psyche, and it’s fucking taunting me and eating at me because I don’t know what is going to happen, but something is going to happen. it’s fucking haunting me. something bad is coming and I’m so unbelievably fucking afraid of what it is after everything else I’ve had to deal with up until this that has never fucking once instilled this kind of, like, just full on fucking gut wrenching paranoia and dread, or this kind of immediate emotional and mental kind of like weird ‘natural selection is coming for me and I’ve gotta come out a survivor’ sort of fear response in my entire being. I’ve never felt a fear this all encompassing and … oddly life threatening? but more in like the stress is going to give me a heart attack and kill me at 27 not like as if someone’s going to come actively murder me, just to clarify. but I feel like I’m actually fucking losing my grip on fucking reality because of this panic episode. I seriously can’t just shake this one off like usual and smoke myself to sleep and forget about. I’m like, actually very genuinely fucking terrified of whatever’s going to happen to me next in my life, instead of looking forward to the future like I have been for a while.

I now feel like at any time from here on that my life itself is going to fucking unravel around me and I can’t stop it and I can’t predict when it’s going to start or what is going to trigger it. I can only watch and desperately grasp at the shreds while it’s all fucking ripped away from me without any warning and I’m left back in that hole I was in for so long, once again.

it’s coming. and I don’t know what it is. but it’s absolutely not good. and I am genuinely afraid that I’m legitimately going to panic myself into a fucking heart attack because of my anxiety and all this fucking mental stress, in the very near future if this feeling doesn’t fucking leave before it kills me.

I’m just. tired. I’m so fucking tired and fatigued and exhausted on a molecular fucking level at this point, and it never leaves. I am always constantly fucking drained and tired in a way that sleep just cannot provide the rest that my soul needs, and I feel very defeated lately. like fucking hell, can’t I get a fucking break? just fucking once? just for a fucking day? before I literally lose myself entirely to my mental illnesses again and ruin all the fucking progress I’ve made all these years as if it didn’t fucking matter and have to start from fucking scratch after all this time? I thought things were finally looking up, why is this happening again? why must I constantly live with this ingrained, irrational, petrifying mental fear of just … something? why do I never know what it is, but always know when whatever it is, is coming for me?

like, fuck. I don’t know what karmic bullshit this is punishing me for from a past life but I hope that version of me fucking rots eternally for whatever the fuck they did to cause this kinda of mental turmoil on my current incarnation. because this stupid fucking deep seated panic randomly blooming in my chest until it just clenches it all in a ball, and burying itself even deeper in my stomach, and starting to take over my fucking logical sense of thought and reason that I find myself now constantly fucking at war with, is actually going to be the fucking death of me.

I’ve always joked that stress was going to kill me because I really am a constant ball of fucking nerves and paranoia and stress, but I was kinda hoping I wouldn’t be right about that one.

talk about manifesting gone wrong, lmfao 🫠

sorry for taking y’all on this rollercoaster of ridiculous emotional and mental fucking warfare against myself, with me ??? I don’t know 😭 I just needed someone to talk to and it’s easier to just make a post than bother anyone personally because I don’t want to burden anyone specifically with my shit. but right now I’m just screaming to the void I guess so it’s different, I don’t know. I’ll end this here and try to go calm my panic, really hope y'all are having a better night than I am 😭

[chrollohearttags]

rule #1: never take ashwagandha and get wine drunk 🧍🏾‍♀️

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

that ’who could fix you’ post has me thinking about the anti-thesis …… who could make me Worse. and the answer is makima :333

[asexualjedi]

The quark odo bickering rounding out the episode. Bringing it back around to the cousin with the moon.

[avirael]

Stuck on Repeat

He wanted to scream.

To scream and to cry and to be anywhere but here. But the best A’viloh could do was try not to tremble and instead follow Rael‘s example, who - despite the fact of being shackled and pushed around - still maintained a certain stubborn grace. He wished he knew how they did that.

What exactly was going on? A‘viloh wasn’t sure of that yet and it would take a while for him to process all of this. Everything had happened so fast. Suddenly the sultana had gasped for air, her goblet falling to the ground along with herself, soaking the expensive carpet with its dark red content. While A‘viloh had only stared in shock, Rael had immediately jumped up and was by Nanamo‘s side only split seconds after she collapsed. The next moment there had been guards everywhere and also that mean Lalafell accusing them of regicide. They had barely been able to say anything before the guards had grabbed them both, checked them for weapons and tied up their hands.

Now, as the door in front of them opened, the soldier behind A‘viloh gave him a rough push. The miqo‘te winced and stumbled forward into the room filled with people, all eyes on him. He lost his balance and with his hands tied behind his back, he landed rather ungracefully on the hard, cold stone tiles. His head started to spin, his vision began to blur, his heart was racing. It was all just too much and also too late to stop the memories that had buried their ugly dark claws deep in his mind. Miserably he gasped for air.

Rael hadn’t fallen but still knelt down and leaned towards him, wanting to make sure he was alright. „A‘vi! Please stay calm. I’m trying to find a way to get us out of this…“, the viera managed to whisper before someone pulled them away.

A’viloh still struggled to sit up and at the same time tried desperately to see where Rael had gone, when someone grabbed one of his arms and a handful of his hair and yanked him into a kneeling position. He pressed his eyes shut and tried to breathe, tried to not let the fear and the memories overwhelm him, but a small whimper still made it past his lips. He fought against his own mind, racing and about to shut itself off from all of this.

„Stop it!“, Rael hissed angrily. What else than complain could they do with their hands tied behind their back. The brass blade turned his attention to the viera instead of A’viloh. „Shut up!“, the man growled and struck Rael across the face with the back of his hand. They gasped and when they looked up again a moment later, with a mix of shock and indignation on their face, their lower lip was split and bloody.

Ashamed A’viloh stared to the ground and tried to pretend that this wasn’t his fault while the voices and turmoil around him faded to the background. Instead his mind was filled with questions and fears. Would they be executed? Thrown in jail? What had happened to Nanamo? Would their friends at least get out of this with their lifes, if Rael and him were made responsible?

Suddenly something touched his shoulder and pulled him out of his thoughts. A’viloh gave an alarmed shriek.

„Shhh!“, Rael shushed him, leaning their shoulder against his. Worried they glanced at him. „You were gone for a moment weren’t you?“ A’viloh didn’t answer but that wasn’t necessary. Rael sighed deeply. „Give me your hands. Maybe I can loosen the knots…“

Working behind their backs Rael tried their best but it was impossible. The angle was bad, they didn’t see what they were doing and the knots were simply too tight. On their own the two of them would never make it out of their ties. “Seven hells!”, Rael cursed. “I would sooner chew through these things than get that knot open!”

It was a funny imagination and under different circumstances A’viloh would maybe have laughed about it. Instead he turned to look at them and offered a sad smile. “It’s alright. At least you tried…I’m sorry about your lip.”

The viera looked surprised and then shook their head. “Don’t worry. I can fix that.”

Suddenly the turmoil around them got even worse. A’viloh only now noticed the screams and the fighting. “What’s happening?”

“Raubahn killed Adeledji. Tried to kill Lolorito too. Panic broke out and now he is fighting Ilberd. But I honestly don't think he has a chance...”

As if to confirm this, one of the giant stone pillars exploded under a heavy misaimed hit and through the cloud of dust and rubble Raubahn was hurled through the air and landed right beside them. With a swift movement of his blade he cut their ties and only then as he stood up, rubbing his wrists, A’viloh noticed that the Flame General was missing an arm.

But there was no time to question how that had happened and what else he might have missed while dissociating. Confidently as ever Raubahn spoke up saying that he never doubted them or the Scions and that they should flee. A’viloh was still to dazed to argue against that and so let Rael pull him along, to Minfilia and the others and then out of the palace.

As they hurried down the stairs of the Royal Promenade Thancred ran towards them and with a sudden peng of guilt A’viloh realised that he had been so shaken until now that he hadn’t even noticed yet that the Hyur hadn’t been with them. Thancred warned them that Lolorito’s soldiers had already taken control of all important points in the city and that it would be impossible to just walk out through the city gates. Luckily he offered another plan. Rumours about very old secret passages leading out of the city and luckily he knew how to get there.

But just as they wanted to leave the heavy steps and yells of the brass blades got closer.

“Go ahead! I’ll handle this!”, Yda exclaimed and turned towards the soldiers.

Papalymo made an incredulous face. “By yourself?! …I suppose I shall just have to join you.”

Rael offered to help them too. Papalymo and the viera could cause quite the destruction together that was certain but the thought of leaving any of them behind made A’viloh sick. There had to be a different way. One were all of them got out of here together.

“Don’t!”, he croaked and hated how his voice sounded a lot quieter and squeakier than he had intended. Had anybody heard him at all? But before he could say anything else or before Rael could join Yda and Papalymo, the Lalafell shot a fireball at the mechanism that held the palace gate open and with a roaring sound it crashed down and cut of the path between the two of them and the rest of the group. It would give them some time but neither Minfilia nor A’viloh seemed to be willing to leave without their friends. Helplessly and pleading the Miqo’te reached through the bars with one arm and stretched out a hand towards his friends. A’viloh and Yda had quickly befriended each other after meeting for the first time. They had spent a lot of time training together and Yda had soon become one of his dearest friends among the Scions. The thought that something could happen to her was unbearable for him. “Yda! Please!”

But the girl laughed at him and locked her fingers with his for a second. “Don’t worry, A’vi! We’ll see you later!” Confidently she smiled at him before she let go of his hand and turned back around to face the soldiers that had almost caught up to them.

The others called out for them and reluctantly Minfilia and A’viloh followed. There was nothing else they could do now apart from making Yda’ and Papalymo’s efforts worth it and get out of here before more soldiers appeared.

In a haste they ran through the decorated corridors of the palace district and luckily the entrance to the secret passage was exactly were Thancred had suspected it to be. The tunnels were bigger and more complex than A’viloh would have thought and for quite a while they ran through dusty old corridors trying to find the right way that would lead them out of the city.

After a while the echoes of yells and footsteps appeared again and unlike them their pusuers seemed to know the ways down here. They tried to hurry but in no time the voices were coming closer and closer.

“I will stop them.”, Y’shtola exclaimed and abruptly stood still, making everyone else pause for a moment as well. “You go on ahead!”

“No…”, A’viloh protested, he wasn’t willing to leave any more people behind. But Thancred nodded. “Then I will stay too! It would be rude to let you fight alone…”

“No! This is all wrong!”, A’vi repeated a little more loudly. “Let me and Rael fight them, we can defeat them surely.”

Y’shtola shook her head. “Not that many of them…” and Thancred agreed, “The two of you are far too important to get captured...” He didnt say or worse but it was clearly there.

“But…” A’viloh wanted to protest but what was there to say? So he just helplessly stared from one of them to the other. Instead Rael nodded. “Alright!”

“No! Nothing’s alright!”, A’viloh exclaimed pleadingly. „There has to be another way!“

“No, there isn’t.” Thancred said and put his hands on A’viloh’s shoulders. „Listen! There is no time. You have to get out of here, do you hear me? And you have to get Minfilia to safety. Look at me A’vi!“

He slightly shook him and despite the closeness between them A’vi did as he was told.

“Can you promise me that? To get yourself and Minfilia to safety?”, the Hyur asked with a serious voice.

Pleadingly A’vi stared at Thancred’s face wondering if it would be the last time he was going to see it. He hadn’t stopped shaking since Ilberd’s soldiers had put him in chains but now it got worse again. Nonetheless he nodded slightly.

“Good.“ Thancred said and nodded too, but hesitated to let go of him.

A strange expression appeared on his face, one A’viloh never had seen on him before. A mixture of doubt and maybe fear? Thancred sighed and muttered “Just in case…“ more to himself than anybody else but A’vi was close enough to hear it anyway.

A’viloh hadn’t expected at al what happened next. Before he even realised it, Thancred had leaned down, closed the gap between them and kissed him. He was too shocked to react, too confused as well, so he just let it happen. Weirdly this made him feel better but also hopelessly sad at the same time. What was he doing here? This was crazy! Maybe he would later curse himself for allowing this or he would wish he hadn’t wasted this moment like this but before he had figured out how to feel or to react the moment was over. Thancred pulled back a little and looked like he already regretted either what he did or simply having to let him go. Or maybe that was just how A'viloh felt himself. “Consider this my lucky charm…“, the hyur whispered, barely audible, and weakly smiled at him.

Then he pushed A’vi away, as gently as the urgency of the situation allowed, and spoke up louder to all of them.

„Now, get out of here!“

„No!“, the Miqo’te whimpered, his hands tried to hold on to Thancred’s arm but he ignored him and looked at Rael instead. „Get them out of here, please. I’m counting on you.“

The viera looked annoyed, more than usually, but nodded without a word and only when A’vi felt their hands at his arms pulling him away, he realised they were all still here watching him. At any other occasion he would have felt horribly embarrassed now but all he could think of right now was that he couldn’t leave all of his friends behind here to fight, and possibly die, while he fled to safety. He didn’t want to run any longer. But Rael seemed to share Thancred’s opinion.

“Come on, A’vi. We can’t waste time now. Every single soldier in this twelves-forsaken city is after us now, we can’t fight our way out of this. There’s no way to set this right if we don’t get out of here first.”, they explained as calmly as they could in this situation, then grabbed A’vi’s hand and dragged him along as they ran. A’viloh followed on stumbling feet but only because his body had long since stopped listening to anything his brain screamed at him. Stop! Go back! Fight!

Rael’s words made sense but still… weakly he tried to look back and see what was happening behind them but then Rael and Minfilia took a turn into another tunnel and he lost sight of Y’shtola and Thancred. For another while he just numbly let the viera pull him along until they abruptly stopped at an intersection.

“There is light! The exit must be right around that corner!”, Rael announced pointing to one of the tunnels.

Minfilia nodded. “I think so too. But I have somewhere else to go. Hydaelyn speaks to me, I have to stay behind but you two, you cannot stay with me.”

Rael shook their head: “We promised to protect you and I don’t plan to break that promise.”

Minfilia smiled kindly.

“I release you from this promise. Instead promise me to flee and clear our names for us! You are the only ones who can do this. I have a different task to fulfil. Please, you must go on! You are the Warriors of Light! You are hope - for the Scions, and for all the realm! As long as your flame continues to burn, the light of the dawn may ever be relit! You must escape, and save Eorzea from those who would plunge it into darkness! This is the only way...”

Rael grimaced but nodded. “Fine…”

A’viloh on the other hand just weakly shook his head. Words had long failed him and with every minute all of this felt more and more like it was happening to someone else and not him. Like all of this couldn’t be real. Like it was a horrible, weird dream that he would wake up from every second now! How had everything escalated so fast?

Minfilia saw his expression and put her arms around him in a tight hug. “Don’t blame yourself for this, A’vi. None of this is your fault. Everything will be alright, I promise.“

Then she ran in the opposite direction and all A’viloh could do was watch her vanish in the maze of tunnels.

After a few seconds Rael took his hand again and A’vi snapped back to attention watching the Viera’s free hand point towards the light. “Let’s go, the exit is right there.”

But A’viloh refused, even if his voice was nothing but a weak whisper. “No, please go alone. I’ll follow Minfilia. Someone has to protect her.”

Rael growled. “Were you listening at all? Do you want all of this to be in vain? I know this is difficult for you, but so it is for me!“

“But-“, A’viloh tried to protest but Rael looked like they almost wanted to hit him and angrily yelled at him. “I want you to be safe too, you know?! I would gladly stay behind and fight if it meant you and the other’s were safe but the best we can do now is run!”

Before A’vi could say anything else a deafening crash sounded through the tunnels. Alarmed they both stared back the way they came. The walls and the floor seemed to tremble and a roaring sound echoed down the tunnel and came closer and closer.

“Oh no!”, Rael gasped. “The ceiling is coming down! We have to get out of here! Now!”

“The ceiling?!”, A’vi shrieked. “But what of the others? We need to — Let go of me!!”, he protested as Rael tried to drag him out of the tunnel.

“It’s too late now, A’vi. Please!”, the viera pleaded but A’vi struggled and screamed. They almost wouldn’t have made it out in time. Just as the cloud of dust and rubble hit the protective barrier Rael had summoned up to shield them they were catapulted backwards by a burst of magic the last few meters out of the ruins and into the late afternoon sun.

Both of them coughed from the dust and it took a moment until they could see anything again. The entrance to the tunnels had collapsed entirely, lots of small and bigger pieces of stones lay in a huge pile in front of what was barely recognisable as the tunnel entrance anymore.

Shocked A’vi stared at the rubble for a few seconds before he began to scream again. Quickly he jumped up and tried to get the stones out of his way, to find a way back in, but of course it was hopeless. The old broken stones were too many and too heavy for him. They wouldn't give in to his pleading. "No! Please, no..."

As calm and soothing as they could Rael took his hands and spoke to him. “A’vi. Not now. There’s nothing we can do now…”

Slowly he let Rael turn him around. He looked at the viera, his eyes filled with tears, before he wordlessly threw his arms around the Rael‘s neck. „I‘m so sorry…“

Rael shook their head. „Not your fault…“

A’viloh didn’t answer to that. Instead he sullenly looked at Rael for a moment before he dared to ask, „Do you think they are dead.“

Rael sighed and then grimaced. „I’m not gonna lie to you, A’vi. I honestly don’t know, but it really doesn’t look good…“

The Miqo’te just nodded weakly, the corner of his mouth twitching for a second. He appreciated the honesty but he had hoped for something a little more reassuring.

Rael carefully squeezed his shoulder. „But maybe they aren’t. We will figure that out, I promise. But first we have to proof that we did NOT kill Nanamo... We should really go now…“

„Thank you. I would be lost without you…“, A’viloh muttered and followed Rael along the railroads leading towards Blackbrush station, defeated and disheartened. Silently he wondered if there was a safe place now for them at all and how they possibly could manage to clear their names…

[makotonaegiunderstander]

do you ever go do autism crazy for something you can feel it in ur chest. like it’s hard to breathe almost it’s making you gasp for breath and jump around physically. got an adrenaline rush thinking abt Kirigiri.

[callixton]

merrily was genuinely so fucking good i am so relieved. i have basically no big picture complaints i am just so happy to have seen it

[gunkbaby]

Sometimes i check the tokyo ghoul tag on tumblr and i see u guys acting like tg is objectively bad and i honestly feel like maybe there’s confusion between ‘thing we can critique’ and ‘objective rubbish’. A lot of it feels like saltiness that certain fave characters didn’t get adequate exploration - which obviously I understand. But also im like…that doesn’t make it bad tho…

Is it a joke my autistic ass can’t pick up on or do u guys actually think tg is bad.

[dipyronegirl]

thinking (and rewatching..) inside job again and i dont think rand is that bad of a father? i mean, he made a lot of mistakes and he doesn’t even feel bad ab it, even tho he traumatized reagan and a lot, but he was never absent. he acts like he cared ab reagan’s career just bc it could help his career, but that’s not true. he pushes her to be the best all the time and it’s bad, but he genuinely cares ab her so much. and the whole ‘creating crises to force her to hang out w him’ thing is fucked up, but it’s cute that he just wants to hang out w her that bad. most fathers literally don’t care enough ab their kids to do any of that. most fathers don’t even know their kids as much as he knows her. maybe my standards are just insanely low, probably, but he’s a better parent than 90% of the parents i know

[sammygender]

thinking about how one of the last things john ever tells dean is an admittance that the way he treated him was fucked. & of course this destroys dean and makes it so much harder for him to come to terms w his death right after and with his childhood in general bc he’s spent his entire life chasing after johns approval. he’s spent his entire life telling himself that the way he was treated was okay and justified and that their childhood was good because he could handle it and he was strong enough and that was how it had to be. he’s worshipped john as a hero and seen nothing wrong with any of it. because he’s had to. his entire life is built around this idea there’s nothing else. he’s his dads perfect soldier and punching bag and wife-replacement and suddenly his dads gone & he said he’s sorry and that he shouldn’t have treated dean that way. what the hell is he supposed to do now.

[halfyearsqueen]

her education as a child was ? extensive, to say the least. as the only child of the heir apparent’s heir, at the time of her birth, she was ? 4th in line to the throne. though it was assumed that viserys would sire a male child and would have a son to succeed him. she was taught things like music, social graces - how to walk, how to present herself at court. how to read, how to write . but her greatest education when it came to court was through exposure. it’s ? said that viserys took her everywhere with him and he encouraged her to ‘ watch and listen closely ‘ . and we know that it was because she was so visible around court that she got the name ‘ the realm’s delight ‘ in the first place

[ilikecheeseandchocolatee]

If you could relive any of your memories, which would it be?

Okay I really had to think about this and I’m a bit torn, but I’ve settled for one of the two memories that have been contending for first place. I’ll tell you both of them anyway.

The one that has NOT won first place is from 2021, me playing skribbl.in with my discord friends late in the night. I think this will always be one of my most cherished memories because I love skribbl.io, and I’m not allowed to stay up late and I had done it anyway (by sneaking), and my parents are constantly paranoid that I’ll end up talking to someone on the internet (I’m not allowed to speak to people on the internet. Which I do anyway. That’s the only way I can network as an artist who rarely goes out in public.) and getting whisked away and kidnapped and sold for body parts, so I was basically breaking a lot of rules that I didn’t agree with AND I was having a wonderful time with people that cared about me and listened to me and it’s yeah honestly such a cherished memory.

The memory that WON FIRST PLACE tho, is not so glamorous. It was in 2018, I think, and I was in India. I had twisted my ankle a few weeks prior to this memory, and it was raining as I was walking out from school to the bus. I was limping and I had an umbrella with flowers on it. These three guys (from school) behind me poked my umbrella and at first I thought it had been an accident so I ignored them, but then I heard them laughing at me. And making fun of my limp. I ignored them because I was limping and I couldn’t really do much if they all decided to get physical. But they actually followed me quite a ways and eventually they also started making fun of my British accent, and I was getting REALLY fucking worked up. I don’t actually remember what the trigger was, but suddenly I just turned around, limped over to the three guys, and just straight up punched them. They were just standing there while I limped over to them. The one that was in my class turned on his heel and ran in the opposite direction the moment I started limping towards them because he’s seen me in action but the other two guys just stood there like Tf is this little girl gonna do. So I went over, and punched them good. And the look on their faces? I want to see that look again. That day was the day I incited fear in guys from all across my year-group because until then it was only within my class. After that day no one bothered me again, everyone was respectful to me. I really really want to see that look again because the memory of their expressions has all but faded and I really want to just cement that into my brain to cheer me up with I’m feeling low and useless. Btw after I punched them and saw the look on their faces I just turned right around and headed for my bus and they didn’t follow. That adrenaline was coursing through my blood vessels and my heart was thrumming. I only processed what I’d done when I was sitting in the bus. It was a great feeling.

So yeah you’re welcome for the enormous answer.