#but free food is free food you have to understand

[thedanishcatgirl]

"You can't charm me witch!"

"Don´t be silly, we both know you where the one who charmed me. I have missed you so much. This castle just really isn´t the same without you. You must be tired after your long journey, want to retire to our chambers, and get out of that stuffy looking armour?"

Our chambers? What is she talking about?

"Sieze your lies horrid witch, I won´t fall for your schemes!"

"Sweetie, could you please stop that charade? It is not funny I have really missed you. It´s been 6 months since I last saw you and held you in my arms."

6 months. Why does that feel familiar? "Why do you keep acting like I know you, when whatever spell you tried to cast clearly didn't work?"

"Spell? Why would I enchant you, my husband, love of my life, the father of our unborn child? She says, now with tears in her eyes."

Something inside you aches at that, like seeing her this sad makes you hurt.

You are the chosen one! Don´t fall for her lies and crocodile tears. She is just stalling, trying to trick you. Attack now before it´s too late, A voice in the back of your mind says. You raise your sword, but as she draws back in suprise and fear, you notice that her belly is indeed quite round. If she really is pregnant, you can´t kill her. That´s wrong, surely they wouldn´t want to spill the life of an innocent baby.

It´s just an illusion, you must slay her before she calls her guards!

No, something is not right here. You have been trying to ignore your gut telling you it´s wrong, and the growing feeling of familiarity ever since you got near her castle. If it was a spell wouldn´t it require her seeing you? You try to think back to half a year ago, but your memories are muddled.

Focus Chosen One! Fufill your destiny!

The oldest clear memory you have are the royal guards informing you of your destiny, to rid these lands of the terrible witch queen. Why can´t you remember anything before that?

Nothing else matters. You have your duty and your purpose, that is the only thing that matters right now!

Your breaths quicken. Your mind is a mess, and there are too many thoughts and voices in your head, and you don´t understand anything, and suddenly you become aware of hands around you face.

"Oh darling, what have they done to you."

You wish you knew, or at least that your mind would stop hurting. It´s too much, and those hands are so gentle and you´re so scared, and tired, and don´t know what to trust anymore so when you fall into darkness you are full of relief.

You wake up in a giant bed, in a lavishly decorated room. Your head still aches, but not as much, which means you probably aren´t dead, which is suprising, very confusing and slightly annoying. Couldn´t she had let you free when you happily accepted it, instead of toying with you first? Perhaps she wanted to get information out of you first.

Or perhaps she wasn´t the lying one.

"You are awake! She says, stepping into the room with a tray of food. Are you hungry? I made your favoirites." At the concern in your face, she adds in a voice that sounds sligthly wounded. "I promise you it is safe to eat." She tears half of one of the bread rolls and eats it, before putting the tray closer to you. The smell is sweet and divine, and your stomach growls. You slowly reach out for the other half of the one she ate, almost on instinct. You haven´t eaten in a while, and never something that smelled so delicous.

Or have you? You barely remember anything about your life, and isn´t there something familiar about that smell, and this bed, and this woman?

What are you doing? It is obiusly poisened with something she is immune to!

Well if it is, then at least I will be spared any torture, you think as you put it in your mouth. It practicly melts in your mouth, and is so sweet and tastes like like, home and love, like something you can´t describe, and soon there are no more rolls on the tray.

She grins at you, in a way that fills you with warmth. "I´m glad to see you still like them. While you rested, I have searched all my tomes, and I think I have a way to give us some more anwers. If you would permit, I would like to try it."

"Why are you asking me?"

"Your mind has been forcefully tampered with enough. I couldn´t do that to you too, even if it should not do anything, but uncover what you have lost."

She is evil and dangerous, and you can´t trust anything she says!

She is the only one who can grant you answers and you know that. If they where the ones who took it from you they wouldn´t give it back.

No! Don't listen to the voice of her trickery! This is a mistake!

You need those answers, no matter the risk. With resovle in your heart, and tears in your eyes, you answer.

"Do it."

As she places a glowing finger of your forehead, your eyes close automaticly from the force of the veil in your mind being lifted, and all your memories overwhelming you. After an eternity gone in a blink of the eye, you open you eyes again looking tearfully into the eyes of your loving wife.

"Welcome back my love."

You, the chosen one, walk into the evil queen's throne room. The queen was sitting gloomily on her throne. She sees you and lightens up. She rises from her throne and kisses you. "Sweetheart, I am so glad you are back."

[isuggestforcefem]

Forcefem February story: Nicole saves Ethan

Part three - Nicole

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 -

It's sometimes said that art is a conversation of sorts, between the artist and the viewer. In that way, forced feminization is kind of like art, too. There's a conversational element to it. Femnization is in conversation with itself, and both subject and perpetrator are, with each other.

Of course, that's not literal. It's always best to keep the subject in the dark, have her powerless, guessing as to her fate, unable to fight back. That said, when Ethan chooses to put on the strange magical ring with no second guessing, it can be understood as "Please miss Nicole turn me into a girl!". Nicole chooses to understand it that way.

Of course, that's not what Ethan says. That's not what he would ever ask. He doesn't want it, will speak his mouth. He likes himself as he is. But as for all arts, it's important to look beyond the text. To see beyond the "boy"'s words. For each of Nicole's victims, she reminds herself that she must look at actions, that it is important to look beyond the posturing, and into your subject's heart. What does Ethan's heart say to Nicole? If Nicole listens, she can hear it, swaying, yearning to be something else. Something lesser.

Usually, prey would be more suspicious. Refuse her gift, or put it in a drawer and forget about it. Usually, they would put up a fight. This little resistance pushed Nicole to want to play with her food, so to speak.

There was a simple plot one could enact, here. A magic weaved itself around the boy, through the ring, an net of thinly weaved spells, which would soon be ready to enrapture his mind. Standard procedure, then, was to wait until he was ready, able to be entirely consumed by the powers Nicole wielded. Yet, the thrill of the hunt clouded Nicole's thought. She yearned for more. She knew more could be obtained.

The threads as they currently wove themselves were soft, easy to bend. It would be so simple to Nicole, to reach into the magic, and reshape it into something more thrilling. Yes, it felt to her like the finest of temptations, truly, a fruit of taste unparalleled. She had to seize it.

She had no choice but to act.

This morning felt to Nicole like she was upon the brink of something great. She could smell change, the tide of a new world in becoming in the air.

Having put on her most innocent face, she headed outside, towards the place Ethan usually found himself, in fresh mornings. The inn was empty, in the early hours, safe for a dying fire, and a lost boy. Gathering herself, she approached him like she was a frail bird. She had a face to keep up.

The boy turned to face her, his face shining with joy and surpise. "Nicole! I did not expect you here today," spoke the boy. Nicole smiled kindly. This was where it began, she could feel it. Her heart raced with anticipation, her lip let out the question. "Ethan, could you meet me at the clearing in an hour? I have something to confess." Nicole's face grew red with anticipation. Ethan flushed softly.

"Oh- of course!" answered the boy. This was it.

The stream was quiet, today. It had not rained in a while, though the clouds indicated this would not last. Nicole had been pacing for a moment, now. The boy was late. There was a worry and a doubt, in her mind, that her true intentions had been uncovered by the village. That she would have to run. That doubt made itself quiet, however. She was hardly in danger.

Her plan was trivial. She had thought it over a hundred times, in her pacing. The boy would arrive. Pretexting some thing -- anything at all -- she would touch her ring, send him to sleep. With the boy unable to resist, she would be free to cast her magic. Then, there was only to wake the boy, and send him back to the village, and watch the magic unravel.

The only question that remained was of the magic to use.

The first thing to enrapture her temptation was the thought of wrapping the magic around Ethan's brain, to snuff him of any independent thought. He would not even notice it, for as long as Nicole wished it so. She could then return him to the town as a sort of pawn, moving around on her whims.

On the same thought, she could allow him the inependence he so deeply craved, while editing his desires. Make him yearn for things brand new, with a strength unparalleled.

However, she could instead weave the spells around his body, and thus begin a swift reshaping of it, into that of a pretty little girl. He would be a girl by the end, no matter what happened. But she could make it happen faster, and begin today.

Finally, she could instead attune the boy's body to the ring's aspect, allowing Ethan to turn into an obedient, pretty, porcelain doll, to be commanded around.

Temptation gnawed at her.

[leeknowsnot]

SKZ M2L (most-to-least) UNDERSTANDING WHEN YOU'RE BUSY AND CAN'T GO TO YOUR DATE

Wowww I have been in the IA (inactive) jail for how long. I want to get back in writing so here's a mini update! Also, this is just my HCs. These are, in no way, an accurate representation or a mirror of who SKZ are.

MOST 🔽

CHAN — He's a busy man himself so he'd understand. He'd be a hypocrite if he had something to say about your schedule, considering he's the one who has more of his time consumed with work. He doesn't whine about the two of you not meeting a lot (though he does want to see you and he misses you, but there are other things to worry about) because he knows you're his and he's yours. You can just meet anytime you both want and can.

FELIX — He's an understanding person, period. Instead of feeling down because you won't make it, he'd be more worried if you're overworking yourself. If anything, he'd go to you with some homemade brownies or your favorite food. Then he'd give you a massage while you work (if you're WFH) to alleviate some of your stress. Then he'll proceed to quietly play his games beside you. Being near you is enough for him.

SEUNGMIN — "Oh, okay." He thinks it's unfortunate that you're busy right when he finally has free time but he doesn't whine or complain about it. He'll just watch his favorite baseball match by himself then. He doesn't really mind doing that, but expect him to jokingly bring that up whenever you're the one complaing about his busy schedule.

CHANGBIN — He'll be pouty, of course. He miss you like A LOT. Your babygirl needs your kisses and cuddles and you're not here to give him that (and for him to give them to you too). He's gonna sulk in his room for a few hours but eventually get it over with once you offer him to go to your house and you both could eat takeout instead while you work beside him.

HAN — He's not gonna complain but you could see him about to tear up. He's not gonna get any work done either. He'd either be singing sad songs endlessly to fuel his sadness, or sit and rot in front of the TV with his horror flicks while his mind wander on the possibilities of what you both could have been doing right now instead of him wallowing in sadness while someone is getting torn apart in the movie.

HYUNJIN — WOULD SCOFF AT YOU. How dare you be more busy than him. He's the superstar, not you. But of course he's not gonna say that out loud, that's just plainly rude. Also, he's not gonna undermine your job, he's just being dramatic. He's gonna text you separate messages throughout the day of how all his stuff remind him of you and why you should be there with him instead of working. You're gonna have to mute your notifs for this one if you wanna get your work done.

I.N — "And so?" He won't care if you're working. He's gonna cling to you like a koala while you try your best to push him away out of camera from your meeting. He's gonna whine about different stuff. But also, sometimes he's talkative (you can't even make out of what your boss was saying during your zoom meeting), and sometimes he doesn't say anything and just pouts at you from a corner. He's gonna be a big baby about it even though he denies he's a baby.

MINHO — This man would leave you on seen. The moment you send and he sees your message "Sorry babe, I can't go. I have a meeting", he's gonna put his phone down and go about his day. He's gonna ignore you for the whole day, he could be petty like that. You'd be anxious if he's mad at you. Yes he's mad at you OR he does it on purpose as a strategy to make you message him more because you think he's mad at you. He will then proceed to call you (to which you answer immediately) and then jokingly say "See, you're not busy anymore." and proceed to laugh.

LEAST 🔼

[babybearnation]

Alpha driver!male reader (i headcannon that you get ur first rut/heat at like 13ish till then you smell like milk) who while being an alpha most of his life (reader is around 27) has only had one rut and that was his first one, charles(omega) lando(omega) and oscar(alpha) are concerned when reader goes into a rut and he literally can't think in a staight line (like eyes blank and no thoughts, Except him moving his hips into a pillow) and is in alot of pain when not touching atleast two of them, they take reader to a doctor they give him something while there so he's atleast coherent for an hour which leads to him explaining to the doc that this is in fact his second ever rut he's had in his life, after the doc get the info he tell lestappiatri that they need to help him if they want him to survive since most similar cases don't make it even with two partners, it ends up with them having an entire 2 weeks where 2 of them are fucking helping reader and the other is taking a break or getting them all food whenis slightly more coherent and able to eat (though those times don't last long before reader's begging to fuck or be fucked)

🥺🥺🥺

–🍑

apologies in advance, i have a feeling this is gonna be bad

omega!charles leclerc x omega!lando norris x male!alpha!reader x alpha!oscar piastri

cw: suggestive

you'd presented as an alpha at the normal age but, unlike normal, that very first rut was the only you'd had for about ten years

you were dating two lovely omegas as well as a wonderful alpha, but because of how new your relationship was, it took a while for your three boyfriends to realise that you didn't have ruts

until you fall into your second rut ever and your boyfriends rapidly learn the truth

luckily, it was very shortly after all the drivers were given free time for the off-season so you weren't being a potential inconvenience

charles, oscar & lando aren't sure what to do, watching you rut blank-eyed and mindless into a pillow over and over in a way that make oscar's unswelled knot twitch in pain

you always hissed when left with one or none of them in the room with you, so they took turns leaving to get things for you

after speaking to and arranging for a doctor to come over, charles tries to offer his body to you but you couldn't move to do anything about it and ultimately, charles backed off

the doctor comes over and gives you something to clear your rut for a small period of time

he asks you questions and charles, lando & oscar are horrified to discover that this was only your second rut

in an almost nightmarish situation, the doctor told you that you would need all three of your boyfriends help to have even a chance of avoiding falling really sick once your rut faded

the doctor prescribes you a rut-supporting medication before leaving, clearly aware that the momentary rut-supressing meds are about to wear off in only a handful of minutes

charles, lando & oscar aren't sure what's going to happen to you now but they take the remaining minutes of you being aware to get you to drink some water and eat a few slices of toast, concern evident in their voices and gazes

once the meds had fully worn off, however, you were insatiable all over again, falling back against the sheets and touching yourself over and over until lando nudged your hand away and sunk down on your cock himself, providing you that sweet, sweet relief you needed

charles leaned forward and kissed you, guiding your fingers to his slick hole, hoping it would help as well

oscar decides to play with your chest, wanting to be involved but not entirely sure what else he could do to bring you pleasure

neither of them were sure how long this would go on for but they were willing to get through it all with you because they loved you and couldn't understand how horrifying a situation like this must be to experience

and get through it they did because, before long, your rut finally passed and you were a coherent, yet very apologetic, alpha once more

your three boyfriends were instantly comforting you, promising that it was okay and hopefully, with the new medication, you'd fall into a steady rut rhythm

and you did! the medication timed your rut with lando's heat, that way you never went into it during the f1 on season

© all rights to babybearnation 2025.

[silenzahra]

☀ Clear morning: a Mareach short story ☀

💝💞💘 Happy Valentine's Day! 💘💞💝

This is a very short Mareach story that was inspired by the song that you'll find below. I highly recommend to check it out before or while reading, be it just the translation or the entire song, as hopefully it'll enrich the reading experience ❤️🩷

Hope it's okay that I tag some Mareach lovers that I think might enjoy this, needless to say you're free to ignore it if you're not interested, of course! @vulpixfairy1985 @smokszyvverstar @bberetd @itsavee4117 @pepperycar @peaches2217 @roscolate @stripetkattelalala54-gf @eleventhhourfactor @c-lavanda @doodleydoo101 @multicolour-ink @akiiame-blog @elitadream @dragon-fly34 @pinkcreamypeach

Translation available here.

Hope whoever gives this a chance will enjoy it! 💖💖💖

PS: In case you're also into some Luaisy sweetness, you may want to check out my very first Luaisy fic which was posted exactly one year ago today 🎂🥳

☀ Clear morning ☀

Dawn has yet to crack when Mario reaches the bridge leading to Princess Peach's castle.

He hears the gentle chirping of birds all around him, waking up and preparing for the new day ahead. He observes the dew-covered flowers that adorn both sides of the bridge, waiting for the sun to finally rise to shine in all its splendor and welcome the spring. The sky, like an immense curtain behind the castle, is slowly clearing up, daybreak approaching with each passing second.

And Mario, standing in front of the bridge, but not yet wanting to cross it, stands, his gaze fixed on the balcony above the main door of the castle.

The balcony of the princess, on which the majestic stained-glass window that represents her beauty and delicately captures her purity stands out.

Mario swallows, anticipation devouring him from the inside. He puts a hand to his chest as he notices that his heart is dashing, as if it had turned into a hummingbird. A nervous giggle escapes him, unable to believe that he’s doing this, that he ran away from home in the middle of the night and raced toward the castle in the hope of witnessing something that he’s not entirely certain will happen.

Even so, he wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Just in case. If it finally happens, he doesn't want to risk missing it.

Still, he feels bad about Luigi. The day before, his brother welcomed him back with immense joy after his umpteenth adventure rescuing Princess Peach from King Koopa's clutches. He showered him with attention and food while Mario couldn't stop thinking about the princess, about her safety, about how she might be feeling after Bowser had captured her in her own home. He was barely able to listen to Luigi, which he feels very guilty about, but he just couldn't get her out of his mind.

She’s taken over his soul to such an extent that she’s even crept into his dreams.

Mario can’t remember the details clearly, but he has etched in his memory the image of Peach, as beautiful and radiant as ever, leaning out on her balcony and waving to him as the sun rises over the horizon, her hair flowing in the morning breeze.

It was such a vivid, magical dream, and at the same time so reassuring after having rescued her, that when Mario woke up, he knew immediately what he had to do.

In a way, Peach is his muse. The one who, while he slept, showed him a vision and inspired him with that crazy plan that Mario set in motion without wasting a moment. He didn't care in the slightest that it was still the middle of the night when he left the house, although he is concerned that Luigi, who must be about to wake up now that dawn is approaching, will be scared when he discovers that his not-at-all-early-riser older brother has not only gotten up before him, but has also left the house excessively early. And without having breakfast.

But Mario can't pay attention to his growling stomach at the moment, and he trusts Luigi will understand when he explains his dream to him. He just hopes his little brother won’t worry too much.

The sound of birdsong, which has become louder, makes him turn his head for a moment towards the nearest tree. Mario smiles when he notices a small white bird, with a tiny pink crest, flying out from the branches and fluttering around his head for a second, making him chuckle. The plumber follows it with his gaze...

... And his heart skips a beat.

Just like in his dream, the first ray of sunlight shines directly on Princess Peach's balcony, causing the white stone to gleam with an almost blinding brilliance and drawing colorful sparkles from the stained-glass window, which only serves to enhance its magnificence.

But what takes Mario's breath away is to behold the person represented in that window. The very owner of that balcony, of that castle, of his rampant heart.

Contrary to what he expected given the early hour, Princess Peach has left her chambers. Silently, Mario watches her smile as the little bird flutters around her, and the sound of her laughter, soft and cheerful like the most delicate glass bell, floods his ears and sinks to the depths of his soul. Mario wants to bottle up that sound, take it home with him, listen to it all the time, when he wakes up in the morning and when he goes to bed at night. He could never have enough of Peach's laughter, not even if he lived a thousand lives.

Nor could he have enough of the heavenly image before his eyes, which he wants to capture in his memory forever: his beloved princess, leaning out on her balcony, her figure trimmed against the stained glass behind her and the rising sun making her shine and stand out even more. Her dazzling golden hair dances in the wind, and her elegant pink dress appears somewhat lighter in the dawn light, which brings out sparkles in the turquoise brooch on her chest and in the earrings that adorn her ears. The little bird on her finger, whose melodious song makes her smile, is an addition that only serves to further enhance the vision that Mario has dreamed of.

And yet, the plumber feels as if he were still inside that dream. As if he hadn’t managed to wake up completely, or as if he had fallen back to sleep as soon as he opened his eyes. This is much better than all those times when he’s even daydreamed about her, imagining that she’s in front of him and that he can look her in the face, as happens whenever his eyes, by accident or not, linger too long on the picture of the princess that hangs above the stairs in the house that he shares with his brother.

All that, those visions, those dreams… only take place in his fanciful mind.

But this… this is real. This he can see with his own eyes. And it’s much bigger and more magnificent than his imagination could ever conjure up.

He feels small, like the hummingbird that has nested in his chest. He feels tiny, like a mere mortal kneeling at the feet of the most radiant and majestic goddess. He feels undeserving of contemplating such beauty, for who is he, but a small, humble man who interrupts the peace of the queen of his soul?

The rising sun bathes Princess Peach in its golden light, and Mario wonders if this is the sun's way of declaring her, the most dazzling of all creatures, as its equal.

Certainly, Mario feels that his whole life revolves around her, that he orbits around her like a planet, that his heart would stop if her light were to be extinguished one day. He gasps as he stares at her ecstatically in the bright morning light, realizing that Peach has been slipping into his soul little by little, with every intense gaze, every kind word, every shy smile, every moment when she has taken his hand or kissed his nose or cheek in gratitude. Mario treasures each and every one of those moments in his heart, which she has undoubtedly taken over.

And he wouldn't want it any other way.

Suddenly, the little bird flaps its wings, and Peach extends her arm to encourage it to take flight. The bird heads towards the sun, which has almost fully risen, and as she follows it with her gaze, the princess suddenly notices the presence of the plumber at the foot of her balcony. Mario jumps, his face suddenly reddening, and wonders what he should do, how he should act. He tries to smile, but all he can manage is a grimace that must look ridiculous, which is in keeping with how he feels inside. What did he expect to achieve, standing there like a fool in front of the home of such a deity? Only to give the impression of a pathetic stalker, of course...

However, all his doubts are silenced when he notices how Peach's lips widen and the sparkle of joy that blossoms in her sapphire eyes, as well as a soft blush that covers her cheeks and makes them seem even more adorable and pure. Since she still had her arm raised, the princess begins to wave it gently in his direction, not without a certain shyness, but also clearly happy and pleased to see him.

And so, in a matter of a second, Mario feels, once again, trapped in a dreamlike fantasy from which he never wants to wake up.

Somehow, his arm moves. Somehow, his smile becomes more stable and confident. Somehow, his eyes connect with Peach's despite the distance between them. Somehow, he manages to return the greeting to the light of his life on this clear morning.

His day couldn't have started better.

[gaybd1]

I would love to hear more about chinglish 👀

Yes I love it and find myself speaking it quite often but of course, because im supposed to teach in “proper English” at my job, it’s discouraged. Which. I kind of get but ugh.

Anyway here are some examples of Taiwanese Chinglish stuff I’d hear (or even say tbh) on a daily basis:

“Because yesterday is my piano recital, so I didn’t do my homework.” <- leaving off past tense of verbs and using conjunctions in ways that reflect how they are used in Mandarin

Similarly you’d often get something like “When I am little, I go to Japan.” <- lack of verb tense in Chinese means it’s easy for the listener to just know this is talking about the past without conjugating it that way

“He” and “she” are represented by different characters in Chinese but they are pronounced the same. Same with “his” and “her” so you get a lot of, “My mom will be so angry if you tell him that”

Articles aren’t really a thing in Chinese either so lower-level English speakers will use ‘the’ in places it wouldn’t be in other variants and also omit it randomly. Like when asked what they like to eat, maybe they’d say “I like the banana.”

In Mandarin, plural indicators are not always used, so even a more advanced speaker saying they like to eat bananas in general may still say “I like banana,” following that same example.

-s is also frequently omitted at the end of third-person verbs. For example, “My brother go to school in Japan.”

Many verbs in Chinese have multiple English meanings which can lead to sentences like:

“I know!” in response to an explanation that a speaker of another English variant would say “I see” for. (coming from 知道, to know / to realize)

“Do today have a quiz?” for “Is there a quiz today?” (coming from 有, to have / to exist)

“Can you say Chinese?” for “Do you speak Chinese?” (coming from 說, to speak / to say)

“Close the AC! I’m cold!” (coming from 關, to close / to turn off)

“I can’t see! Open the light!” (coming from 開, to open / to turn on)

“Yesterday I look TV” , “I like to see book” (coming from 看, to look / to see / to watch / to read)

Also modal particles like 啊,啦,吧 can be included at the end of a sentence that is otherwise in English, particularly la/啦 to express emphasis or commonly some sort of frustration. Similar to Singlish I guess:

“Stop hitting me la!”

“I already gave it to you la.”

“Yes it is ah!”

Lastly obviously there are always going to be loanwords or concepts like that:

I’ve posted about this before but familial words are quite common in Chinese. An auntie or an ayi is an older lady or perhaps some sort of domestic helper or nanny or something. An uncle is the same for men. (Sometimes younger people can be referred to as sisters or brothers but it’s less common in English. An old old lady will probably be called an ama)

Food words. Some food words just shouldn’t be translated. And people will try but it’s just. Dumb. Douhua will always be douhua, I don’t even know what it would be in English

Place names don’t usually have English translations but predictably even the ones that do might still be in Chinese when speaking English. Using “yushan” when talking about Jade Mountain for example

Swear words obviously. A lot of those are actually Taiwanese words people use in Mandarin that have now come over to English

I can’t think of any other specific vocabulary for Chinglish but just. Cultural stuff, you know. Like a lucky charm, it’s always going to be a pinganfu to me.

Anyway la, im sure there’s much more but it’s nice to get all this stuff down in one place. The point of English variants is that their features are common and intelligible, abd while there’s a huge push to teach “”proper English”” around here, I think people should be a little more lenient and understanding of local features and not be embarrassed to use them.

Taiwan is set to be the world’s first bilingual English-speaking country by its own free will by 2030 (I have thoughts on that lol but that’s in another post somewhere) so this is all fascinating stuff

[celestialmuses]

"Yeah, a decathlon. It's 10 different sports or activities. They do it in the Olympics. It's crazy honestly." Elio explained, a laugh bubbling up. Then he sighed and got up from the couch. "I understand though I'll be honest and say I don't like it. I wish you could stay longer but I'm sure you have stuff you need to do. Do you want me to call you a car? There's a subway station down the block too. I don't know which you do." He said, walking into the kitchen. "Let me pack up some leftovers for you too. I can't eat all of this by myself. And now you'll have lunch tomorrow and think of me." Elio added, grabbing one of the many precariously packed tupperware containers and filling it with extra food for her. "Um here. I had a really nice time tonight. Thanks for saying yes. I think you're so beautiful and funny and smart. I'd like to see you again if you're free."

"I'm sorry did you say decathlon? She questioned with a rise of her brow "I've heard of a triathlon and I thought that was to much." She chuckled softly. "If you see me running than your safest bet is to start running too." She chuckled. She nodded in agreement to Elio's assessment on life "I completely agree. You have to be pretty special to me in order to get me to tag along to something that I really have no interest in." she admitted. Really her roommates were the only people who qualified at this point in time. Wren's eyes wondered to the window, noticing that it was starting to get dark out. "I should probably get going." She admitted, taking a look at her phone just to make sure that she hadn't missed the last bus yet. If she stayed much longer she would have to call Juniper for a ride and she wasn't sure what the women was currently wrapped up in.

[notdoneintentionally-blog]

Conversations in the dissection room.

Rating: 18+ Explicit

Relationship: Ann/Aguni (yes, as weird as it seems, THERE’S A POINT TO IT OKAY)

Tags: explicit description of corpses, gore, body horror, angst 

Notes:  THIS WAS DONE FOR A CHALLENGE. my friends and I decided it’d be funny to put all the AiB characters’ names in a roulette, spin it twice and write a fic shipping those two characters AND I GOT AGUNI AND ANN. I DO NOT ship them personally but the winner of the challenge got a free meal and as a college student that sounded like heaven to me so enjoy (or don’t) this monstrosity.

The light is buzzing in the dissection room; the skin on his chest splits easily under her scalpel, allowing the two necessary cuts for the T-shaped incision. He’s still beneath her touch, as any dead person should be, though she believes that even if he were alive he’d be equally unresponsive.

She’s told Hatter she’d be embalming his body, but that’s not something taught in med school and Hatter won’t care as long as she disposes of him afterwards, so she’s doing the only thing she knows and dissecting him like any other person who’s had the misfortune of arriving to her dissection room. It’s the only way she knows how to say goodbye, too.

Ann had never been bothered by working with corpses, but she’d never been able to get used to watching the disrespect they were treated with. Med students throwing small balls of fat at each other and laughing. Forensic doctors commenting on how ‘she had such an ass’ or how ‘he was fat as hell’. Beach members looking as though they’re about to be sick every time they have to fetch her from the dissection room and they catch a glimpse, just a glimpse, of a corpse.

She’s taking him apart now. Her fingers twitch slightly as she separates the flaps of skin to expose the layer underneath, feeling how malleable he is under her touch, how in death he’s softer than he ever was when he was alive. It’s more ironic that she might be gentler with him now than she ever was when he was alive.

‘I hope you’re still here’ she thinks. ‘Looking at me and waiting for me to treat your body before you move on’.

“I’m going to take care of you,” she whispers, her voice camouflaged amidst the buzzing noise. “You deserve someone taking care of you even if it’s too late now, Aguni.”

The blade digs into his chest.

    —----

“Aguni,” she whispers, breaking the silence of the room. They’d been pretending to sleep for a while now, an arm was draped around Ann’s body more out of habit than comfort, as if by following familiar patterns they could be convinced everything was alright. “There has to be something we can do.”

The sheets shuffle, and the hand on her waist stiffens. “Sleep. Just sleep.”

“You’re the leader of the militants and they respect you, maybe—”

“Ann, just go to sleep,” he says, voice gruff. ‘Let this go,’ she hears. “This doesn’t concern us.”

“If not us, then who?”

There’s a sigh coming from the other side of the bed, just a second before he stands up to raise the blinds. Aguni knows she isn’t one to drop a subject. Neither like talking at night with the ceiling lights on, and there’s enough illumination coming from the window; the moonlight and the spotlights from the nearest games mixing to create a silver-bluish glow on Aguni’s skin, accentuating the lines of his muscles and reflecting on his eyes. They’re usually so dark and stoic but now that a sliver of light crosses them, almost coinciding with the line of his scar, they seem more candid, more innocent. The look he might have had during the early Beach days, if only she’d been paying attention at the time to notice.

She would’ve liked to see him like that. Less guarded. More careless. Hopeful. It was nice to imagine him like that, though he seemed the kind of person that had the weight of the world thrust upon him from an early age and he refused to put it down. As if by letting it go he’d collapse too.

Until now. She could hear the pleading in his voice. ‘Let this go. We’ve done enough.’

“The militants are getting harder and harder to control each day,” says Aguni. “Niragi and Last Boss are psychopaths, pure psychopaths, and they’re starting to get away with everything. You saw what happened with the climber girl down at the pool—”

“And it was resolved immediately.”

“Because she was lucky,” he snaps. “The runt of her boyfriend stepped in to protect her and before Niragi could shoot the idiot, Takeru appeared to save them both. They were lucky, Ann. If it had been anyone else you’d have two more corpses in your room.”

“Have there been any more incidents?” she asks, and he scoffs.

“Do you think Niragi’s going to tell me how many girls he’s tried to rape this week? Or do you think I talk with Last Boss about what he does with the.. the livers or whatever the fuck that freak likes to eat from dead bodies?”  

Ann looks away. “Aguni, you’ve worked in the yakuza. You’ve been around men who hold a disregard for rules and work in an environment where this is rewarded rather than punished. You can imagine the kinds of things these men would do to people if they were in the borderlands, what they’d do to women, especially. Morality only exists in masses. That’s why we need the Beach, why we made it in the first place, and why we can't abandon it now.”

Suddenly, the chair creaks from the force he uses to stand up. “Are you hearing yourself?” asks Aguni, incredulous. “Takeru’s killing everyone he thinks is a traitor. The militants do whatever the fuck they want to. None of the other executives gives two fucks about anything. The Beach’s gone to shit.”

—---

Ann pauses, taking a second to admire her handiwork. She’s removed all the layers of adipose tissue from the anterior side of his torso and now she’s met with the sight of his exposed muscles, his pectorals and the external oblique of the abdomen.

The corpse is fresh, so when she presses a finger to his left pectoralis major it squelches, oozing liquid that trickles across the union of both pectorals and slides down to the fascia. His muscles are hard, yet pliant under her touch. In a few days they’ll start to dry and lose mass, until someone like Aguni, who once punched a tiger, will have muscles no thicker than a piece of paper. For now she can place both of her palms against them and feel how full they are, how there’s parts of him clinging to remnants of life. It’s exhilarating.

There’s a certain intimacy in being able to see facets of him that will remain exclusive to her. Not even Aguni will hold the knowledge of how he looks from inside. She’ll be able to reach beneath the abdominal aponeurosis and find out if he has a pyramidal muscle, lacking in about 20% of the population. She’ll be able to finally find out whether his frequent complaints about his feet aching are caused by plantar fasciitis or overpronation.

The best part, though, will be his arms. Ann can barely contain her excitement when she thinks about getting to his forearms and pulling at the tendons in them, making this lifeless body move for her, his fingers flexing under her control. It’s a good thing she’s leaving them for last, because that way, there’s no risk that in her frenzy she’ll skip over other parts. Aguni wouldn’t deserve that.

It’s a two-way deal, an equivalent exchange. Ann gets to know him like no one ever will, gets to handle him however she pleases, and in return, Aguni is cared for. There’s someone waiting with him until he crosses the border that separates limbo from death, taking their time to honour him. His body is safe, respected. He can let go. She’s got him.

This does not quell the feeling of guilt curling insidiously in her stomach.

—----

“You were fully aware managing the Beach wasn’t going to be easy,” she replies, accusation evident in her voice. “We both knew, that’s why we started this whole ordeal. The first time we met to talk about the Beach’s internal affairs, do you remember?”

He shakes his head and looks away, his shoulders stiffening. “Vaguely.”

She doesn’t remember all the details either. There had probably been a meeting, one she’d exited feeling exasperated and frustrated, at Niragi’s malice, or Chishiya’s apathy, or Kuzuryuu’s detachment, or at the fact that every single one of the executives clearly had their own agenda and Hatter either didn’t notice or pretended not to. She just remembers the subtle gesture of Aguni’s head after the meeting had finished, his eyes fixed on her with an expression she couldn’t quite place before he disappeared into the hallways of the annex, only to find him later in the dissection room, his dark clothes and tan complexion a startling contrast to the brightness of the ceiling lights.

“You came to see me and told me I was right about how lacking our health system was. I offered you a plan, and you offered me resources. I asked—”

“Ann…”

“I asked,” she carries on, impatiently, “why you cared about the Beach’s health system, and you told me—”

“You don’t have to remind me, I was th—”

“You told me ‘someone has to run the Beach, because Hatter isn’t going to do it’. Isn’t that still true? Aren’t we still allies?”

“Allies,” he spits out the word like it’s an insult. But that’s what they were.

No one had known about them. She wasn’t even sure there was something to know, since they weren’t actively hiding anything. There wasn’t a secret code they used, they didn’t communicate outside their visits and if Aguni ever took precautions to come down to the dissection room when the rest of the executives wouldn’t notice, he never told her. Were they subtle? They must have been, for Mira or Chishiya not to pick up on what was happening behind the scenes. They exchanged looks during meetings, Ann ran her finger across the rim of her sunglasses and Aguni crossed his arms over his chest whenever there was something they didn’t agree with, but neither said anything until they arrived at the dissection room, where a light was cast over their true intentions.

She’d never expected to have Aguni as an ally, of all people. She’d seen how, eventually, the rest of the executives found a companion to serve their purposes, but she couldn’t see how any of them truly considered each other allies. Niragi and Last Boss’ relationship was tenuous at best, two people with shared sadistic tendencies who found safety in numbers away from the judging eyes of the rest; Kuzuryuu and Mira seemed to share an unspoken tolerance to each other — better together than alone — but still lacking something to even be called companionship, and Chishiya’s bond to Kuina ran deeper than whatever he had fooled himself into believing. She wasn’t interested in all the added complications of these not-quite-allyships, and even if she found someone who did interest her enough, she knew herself enough to know she’d never be able to trust them fully, especially in such a place as the borderlands were. Her wary nature would always cause her to look behind her shoulder, defeating the singular purpose of having an ally.

But there was no other way to define them. Allies. Not in the games, they’d never met at one, but in the far more challenging hotel resort. Sometimes it felt like they were continually living in a hearts game, balancing how their plans could be viewed by each executive and figuring out ways of getting past the scrutiny of their leader while still reaching decisions that could benefit the lower-ranking Beach members.

However, it wouldn’t be accurate to say it hadn’t gone beyond that at times. There were nights when Ann returned from an especially hard game and her fingers dug like claws into his body, nails hooking into the spaces between his ribs and lips attaching themselves to the pulse point on his neck. His heart hammered against her tongue and every feeling she kept locked inside her welded into a jumbled mess she couldn’t make sense of until she released them with a cry and Aguni’s name. But those things happened at night, when everything was blurry and choppy and the rush of adrenaline made it easy to forget any specific details, so they treated them as nothing more than dreams and went on about their day normally.

“Allies,” she repeats, mouth suddenly dry.

Aguni steps forwards and kneels in front of her, taking her hands in his, gripping them tightly in his thick fingers. There’s shadows underneath his eyes and his shoulders are sagging; something inside him is beginning to crumble.

“Then let’s leave. You and I. As allies, as whatever you want, we could leave this godforsaken place behind and focus on the games. It’d be easy for us. We’re used to dealing with so much shit.”

Ann looks away. She feels dizzy just by looking at him, unstable from the desperation that rolls in waves from him and tries to pull her in. She can’t give in to it, can't take this hand that reaches out for her for fear of what it might entail. Allies, not-quite-allies, whatever she wanted; it’s impossible to think about.

“You can leave if you want, Aguni, I won’t stop you. If you want to leave, I’ll respect that”.

—--

Had she known he wouldn’t leave? The question runs itself on a loop through her head as she traces the blood vessels on his legs. They had no commitment to each other. They hadn’t even agreed in the first place that they were allies, the word flew out of her mouth one day and before she could take it back or dilute it with meaningless verbiage, he’d simply nodded and kept talking. But there hadn’t been a moment where they’d laid down rules or boundaries. He wasn’t obligated to stay with her. Even if they had agreed on it, she’d been abundantly clear. ‘If you want to leave, I’ll respect that.’

Her thoughts were distracting her. She shouldn’t be thinking about herself. Exhaustion must be sinking upon her, she’s been here for hours and she’s mistaken a few arteries with nerves, but she can’t stop until she’s done. It’s important that she check for any blood clots on his legs; he’d once had a mild episode of thrombophlebitis and it could’ve been caused by that. Her exploration, her hunt for knowledge, must be rigorous.

Perhaps she’ll leave his nerves be. It’s amusing to think that they had a purely decorative function on him; never would he admit to being in any pain or make any gesture that gave him away. She’d once treated a wound on his arm that required stitches, and since neither Chishiya nor her knew much about anaesthesia, she’d warned him he’d have to push through without anything to palliate the pain. Besides, she was used to working with people who were already dead, it’d been a long time since she had to check how gently she treated a patient, and, as she explained this, he’d laughed. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I’ve probably had worse.’

Ann couldn’t ignore the question any longer. She’d known. Aguni would’ve never abandoned her. She’d known in the way his arm wrapped around her every time she spent the night, holding her even after she’d given his back to him; in the way she’d always find him in the hall of the annex, observing the people who’d just returned from games and leaving after he saw her. In the way his eyes stared at hers that day, resignation and acceptance and something soft in them.  

It was easier for him to endure than to give up. She should’ve known that. She should’ve stopped pushing.

And she didn’t.

—--

“I’ll talk to him,” says Aguni, with resignation and acceptance and something soft in his eyes. “Takeru will listen to reason.”

“Do you think it’ll work?”

“It’s the only thing I can think of trying,” he says, sighing and leaning back on his heels.

Ann nods. Not exactly a meticulously thought-out plan, but it’s a start. If there’s anyone Hatter might be willing to listen to, it’s him, his oldest friend, someone he knows would never betray him. Aguni had obeyed every order since the beginning, perfectly managed the militants, and he’d never once complained. Though Kuzuryuu was listed as number two, he’d been the one Hatter went to first every time there was a change in the way the Beach had managed. Hatter trusted him, and they could only hope he’d trust his judgement too. “We can try that. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll think of something else.”

Aguni nods too, looking at her wordlessly. She doesn’t know if she’s imagining it or not, but she’s become aware of how he’s gripping her hands and it feels firmer, even though his thumbs are gently running circles along the back of hers. Maybe not firmer; steadier, like he’s anchoring them to one another, bonding them in ways words never have. She can’t figure out what he’s planning, but whatever it is, he doesn’t seem in a hurry.

He bends his head to kiss her hands, not exactly a swift gesture but brief enough for her to realise it’s happening after he’s already standing up and staring at the door. The imprint of his lips burns against her skin and makes her heart race and her muscles tense. ‘Do something,’ they’re screaming at her, her heart, her muscles, her whole body, pushing her to the edge of the bed until there’s only a few centimetres left until it ends and she’d be standing up.

Aguni’s reached the door by now, but just as he’s about to cross the threshold he stops, placing a hand on the doorway. It’s the only time she’s seen him hesitate. For a moment, it looks like he’s about to tell her something he’s forgotten as a mixture of expressions take turns showing on his face; earnestness, contrition, regret, until they finally settle again on resignation and acceptance and something soft, and the next second he’s disappeared into the hallway. Leaving Ann a few centimetres off the edge of the bed, almost standing, almost going after him, but ultimately, she stays rooted to the spot.

—-

She’s down to his viscera, almost done. There’s little left to do; aspire the contents of his stomach and intestines to remove all traces of uncleanliness, check his coronary arteries for any anomalies in their disposition which might have caused sudden death after intense exercise (there are none), and his liver for any inflammation or fibrosis (also none).

Cutting open his lungs isn’t a big effort so she does it anyway, even though she knows she’ll find nothing because he wasn’t a smoker nor ill when he died, but maybe it’ll be interesting to see the mottled black pattern on them, the result of living in a city for years. And it’s justified, too, to check his ribs one by one because given his line of work she might be able to spot a badly healed fracture. However, by the time she finds herself with the scalpel against his pancreas, where she knows she’s not going to find anything, she comes to terms with what she’s doing.

She’s stalling. For all her big speech on waiting with him until he was ready to pass on, she’s the one keeping him there. She’s not ready for him to leave.

But there’s nothing she can do now.

—---

“It’s really a pity,” says Hatter. Eight people are huddled around the table in the conference room, all focused on the person lying on it. Hatter’s at the head of the table, the position fit for their leader, Niragi and Last Boss (surprisingly, he’s left his usual place by the door and he’s the closest one to the table) are on its right side, both looking equally perplexed and both doing a really bad job at attempting to hide it. Kuzuryuu and Mira are at a prudent distance, cautiously sneaking looks at Hatter when they think he won’t notice, and Chishiya is behind them, ignoring Arisu’s gawking.

Ann can’t really say where she is. She could see Kuzuryuu’s back at one point, yet the next she was staring right at Aguni’s lifeless eyes and at some point she swears she might have had her hand on his chest, right beside the bullet wound. No one is looking at her, so it’s possible the ataxia is only in her head and if she’d walked over to gape at his corpse she'd have written it as examining the wound. She’s lucky she decided on wearing her sunglasses this morning, because if she barely feels in control of her body, she can’t imagine what her eyes show.

“There’s no one more affected by this than me, but I have to be fair,” continues Hatter, in his grating voice. He’s apparently talking like a politician now, and it’s intriguing to say the least how he’s chosen his supposed best friend’s death to enact this little change in speech. “‘Death to the traitors.’ He was there the day this rule was created, and Aguni knew no one is exempt from it, or from any of the rules of the Beach. It’s sad to see someone so close to us betray us—”

Ann stops listening. Bullshit, she wanted to yell. This man did more for the Beach than you ever will. He died for the fucking Beach and you’re calling him a traitor. And Niragi and Last Boss look more confused than distraught, Kuzuryuu has the same expression he has when it’s raining outside or when he sees there’s beans for lunch, which is the same fucking expression he was born in and will die in, Mira’s smiling and she isn’t even going to turn around to look at Chishiya because she can already picture the apathy painted on his face.

“Ann?” Hatter calls. “You’ll take care of the body, yes?”

She nods, wordlessly.

“Good. You’ll need someone to take it to your room then,” says Hatter, turning around and raising an arm. “Aguni! Take the body to— oh.” He seems disconcerted for a moment, as if he’s forgotten the literal reason they’re all standing there, and he takes a quick glimpse at the corpse on the table before composing himself, all in the span of a single second. “Not anymore, I guess,” he corrects himself, ending the sentence with a laugh that feels more like a shriek. “You two then, Niragi and the other one. Take the body to wherever Ann tells you to.”  

—---

His body is stitched back up and there’s nothing more she can do now. It’s done, he can move on now. She can, too.

However, she stays rooted to the spot.

“Aguni,” she whispers, just because she wants to say his name while looking at him one last time, but she can’t bring herself to raise her voice above a whisper in case someone could hear her. It’s maddening that in the quiet and the solitude of the dissection room, she’s still afraid someone might see them, find out about their allyship and use it against them, even though the responsible for Aguni’s death had been her. Not Chishiya or Mira, blackmailing or puppeteering them for their plans, not Niragi or Last Boss overthrowing their superior so they could run without a leash, not even Hatter, because she couldn’t blame a madman for his actions when it had been her who’d pushed him to the guillotine.

He wanted to leave, he was begging her to, and she refused because she was too determined to protect the Beach from the rot that grew within. It was ironic how, after he’d died, she wished the rot would overtake the Beach, making everyone realise what a grave mistake they’d made when they killed this man, the only barrier of protection between them and a room full of psychopaths and lunatics.

She’ll stay, she thinks, running her hand across the stitches holding Aguni’s chest together, just to fuel this fire until it consumes the entire hotel, decimating the executives and everyone else inside. Burning her alive, preserving her nerve endings until the last possible moment so she’ll feel every second of the excruciating pain. She deserves nothing less. She killed Aguni for this place, it only makes sense she’ll die by its hand too.

A knock on the door distracts her from her thoughts, a good thing too, because one of her nails is digging dangerously close to a stitch and might ruin it. “Am I interrupting anything?” asks a feathery voice, light and flimsy despite being in a dissection room with a corpse inside it and the stench of formaldehyde impregnating it. “Oh, you’ve finished already, good,” says Mira, without waiting for Ann to reply.

“Actually—”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure you’d rather be alone,” she interrupts, waving dismissively as she finds a stool to sit on. “But there’s something I wanted to talk to you about, and it’s terribly time-sensitive, I’m afraid”.

She reaches inside her pocket and takes out a card, showing her its back first so she can see it follows the same design as borderland cards do. Then, with the same enthusiasm as if she’s performing a magic trick, she flips it with a giggle, revealing the suit and number.

The ten of hearts.

Mira smiles maliciously. “See, I have an offer I think you’re going to be interested in.”

Notes: if you’ve made it to the end I am so sorry for what your eyes have seen. Shoutout and huge thanks to @hatterstan-shameblog for putting up with me and my 3AM crisis, for writing fics that inspired me for Aguni’s character and for reviewing and annotating my work. Here’s to hoping one day we might talk about something other than the most aberrant AiB couple ever written about. You’re awesome man. 

[inkskinned]

no, but really, we need to talk about the casual objectification that has become the fallback discourse of the internet: if you're pretty and dressed nicely, you're a slut. and if you're even vaguely outside of their body standard, you're fucking disgusting.

too-frequently, people position sex workers as being "the problem". they sneer you're addicted to pornography, you don't know what a real woman looks like. but real women are in pornography. the real bodies on display are not the issue here: the issue is that other people feel extremely confident when commenting on someone's physique.

2000's super-thin is slowly worming its way back into the public ideal. recently i saw someone get told to "go for a run", despite the fact she was on the thinner side of average. not that it would ever be appropriate to say that: but it's kind of like sticker shock when you see it. people think that is fat? holy shit. do they just have no idea about things?

but what are you going to do about it? that's the problem, right. because chances are - you're a normal person. we can say normalize carrying fat on your body, but we are not the billion-dollar diet industry. we are not the billion-dollar fashion industry. we are just, like. people. who are trying to make content on the internet, without being treated shittily.

as someone who has been on both sides of things: you are treated better when you are thin and pretty. this is statistically correct. i am not saying that you cannot be bullied for being thin; i'm saying there are objective institutional biases against certain bodytypes. there are videos of men and women who lost weight all saying: i now know for a fact exactly how much worse you're treated. in the comments, some asshole inevitably says something akin to you deserved to be dehumanized when you were fat.

which means that ... the easiest thing to do is be pretty and thin. it is the path of least resistance, because of course it is, because any time you post a picture of yourself without a thigh gap, someone immediately comments something like you need to try a diet.

the other half is also dehumanizing though, huh, just in a different way. when i put on makeup and nice clothes, i am told i slept my way to the top as a professional. do you know how many women in STEM have told me they purposefully dress to "unimpress" because they already struggle to be taken seriously and if they're ever considered pretty - it for some reason takes away from their authority.

so they make it seem like it's your fault. you, existing in a body - it's your fault! if you didn't want shitty comments, don't have a body. they position us against each other like chess pieces; vying for male attention we don't even need.

and i can be an authority on this unless you think i'm fat and unattractive. when i am pretty and thin, i'm an activist. when i am just a normal person who makes a good point: i am immediately dismissed. nobody fucking believes you if you're not seen as attractive. you literally lose value. you cease to exist.

but the whole time, it feels like - is anyone actually grounded the fuck in reality? the line of "pretty and thin" keeps shifting. nobody seems to understand what "a normal weight" even looks like, because it's not something that exists - you cannot tell a person's health by looking at their body. even if you think you could tell that, even if you're sure a person is dangerously overweight - people are not your dolls. they do not need to be dressed up or displayed properly to soothe your aesthetics. you aren't concerned for them, you're stealing their agency. you don't get to say if they're "allowed" to take pictures and post them on the internet - you don't get to tell them how to exist.

people hide behind "the obesity epidemic" without any actual qualifications. they crow things about "normalizing unhealthiness".

but it's bullshit. i have visible abs. there is a pair of parallel lines on my body, even when i'm relaxed; where my obliques meet my abdominal wall. i am proud of this because it means i'm strong, because i overcame an eating disorder only to be ripped as fuck. it is genetic and physical luck that i even get any definition, i'm pleased as punch.

but it does mean that my abdominal wall sticks out a little bit. the other day i posted a video of myself dancing, and, for a moment, my shirt slipped. you could see a little bit of my stomach. i was cartwheeling to the floor. moments before this, i'd had my foot over my head.

a guy slid into my DMs. a row of vomiting emojis prefaced: you should really lose some weight before you think about dancing.

i stared at it for a long time. there was a time when i would have been triggered by this, where it would have encouraged me to starve myself. i would have ignored the fact i'm flexible, agile, good at jumping: i would have lost the weight for a stranger's passing comment. i would have found myself and my body fucking disgusting.

and for what? to please what? because why? so that he can exist in this world without an unchallenged eyeball? what would my self-hatred even accomplish? usually i write paragraphs. obviously. on this particular occasion, in this body i've been at war with for ages: i just felt exhausted.

it shouldn't be even worth saying. it shouldn't be hard to explain. all of this emotional turmoil when he cannot even comprehend the most basic truth: i am not an object on display for him.

[thespoonisvictory]

also idc I love the citadel and all its wizard hubris I love the intersection of innovation and horror and progress and crushing others underfoot AND also clothes that magically put them on themselves and Citadel Made bouncy balls and secret societies and universities!!! and espresso and arcane discovery and and and

[fairiewines]

"do not be mistaken, i never underestimate women. my army is composed of women and men, i understand what power you hold." which was precisely why he had requested a spoon only while collecting her meal from the kitchen. she was nursing a huge wound, after all. mikale could not fully comprehend the emotions ysara was experiencing, so merely prepared himself for anything and everything. resting one knee upon the other the king made himself comfortable in front of her fire, determined to watch the princess eat at least half of that soup. "good girl", some tension released from him as she began eating, fuelling her body as opposed to punishing it for what he had done. "you are free to explore the gardens, although i will admit it's not much to appreciate .... if you wish to visit the city i can arrange it, though you will need to be accompanied." because mikale was not a fool, not entirely. if he was not present for her trip to the only city in their small country he would demand his most trusted men take his place. "you can visit wherever you wish, you can visit a few businesses and watch them work." his people did not know that ysara was currently residing with him, but mikale did not fear the knowledge being made public. "they do not know yet. but they were made aware of the business with your father, you appearing should not surprise them." it was them who were suffering, after all. they were the ones struggling to grow food, to maintain their crops and animals. their hardships had made them smart, seeing ysara on his land would hint at mikale taking action and action was the only thing needed. but he could give her freedom, or some semblance of it — to show her his home, the good people that resided within its borders. "no ... no he has not", and mikale felt pain for the woman, whether her father was scheming or simply ignoring her it wasn't fair. she was a beautiful woman, quick tongued and sharp. to be attached to such an awful father was a shame. "but you have only just arrived, it may take time", the king offered, a small gift of hope to a woman who likely craved it. "now eat or it will go cold and i will go and grab you another, princess."

"you underestimate a woman desperate for her freedom then." it was more of a mumbled dig if anything, but even through the husky, quiet tone of her voice, he could hear the bite in her words. her arms were crossed and her eyes followed his every move, until he took a seat across from her. the tension in her shoulders dropped slightly, though her gaze remained the same. when it was clear he wasn't going to leave, she knew she had two choices, either starve herself into a pile of bones or eat and regain her strength, at least until a third option became available. so she sat down, looking over the hot meal, hesitating a bit before finally taking a bite. "is it only the castle i can explore?" she then questioned after swallowing her first mouthful. "would i be able to see your land? your people? do they even know you have me?" if the cards did not play in her favor, then perhaps one day they'd be her people too. at least for show. which meant no use avoiding what lied beyond the castle walls. looking up at him, ysara's eyes studied how he looked in front of roaring fire. the way the embers danced against the brown and golds of his irises. to say he was beautiful would've been an understatement. even in captivity—so she'd call it—ysara could see fact. he was stunning and it made this all the more unfair. "have you..." she toyed with the spoon between her fingers, her appetite nonexistent as she thought of what she was about to ask. "have you heard anything from my father?" had he sent armies? called on allies? or was there no word, no movement, at all?

[shalom-iamcominghome]

Me: I am interested in judaism ONLY. Show me content about jewish life, intellectualism, history, and daily life

The Algorithm, apparently: does this mean you're interested in mormonism... how about jehova's witness............... this is all you'll get recommended by the way

[reneeworks]

imagine being so privileged that just posting about a tragedy is too much work for you. cry me a fucking river, there's people being murdered and exploited and you are stressed because you can't buy overpriced nasty coffee and people is asking you to share a couple of videos on Instagram? fuck off

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

What the food pantry on campus does:

- gives me snacks and drinks to supplement my regular groceries, breakfast stuff, maybe ingredients for 1-2 actual meals

What the food pantry is really bad at doing:

- giving me food I can make into proper meals for the week

Oh you want juice? Here’s 2 little juice boxes. Nothing else; they’re limited. You want pasta sauce? 1 can; limited. You want produce? 2 produce item limit, except for the apples which are starting to spoil. You can have all of those. You want frozen chicken? One container only. Oh, they’re all stuck together and frozen? Sorry, you can’t have two; no chicken, I guess. Pasta? One box only. Rice? Two small bags, max. Breakfast bars? Yeahhhh, those are a snack, and you can only have five snacks, total. But if you put those pop tarts back, you could have some! Oh, you want donuts instead? Sure! But that’s a bakery item, and you can only have one baked good, so you’re gonna need to put that bread back. You want ziploc bags? Here, have two. Not two boxes, two bags. Item limits. Sorry. You can come back next week!

How the fuck are people supposed to actually *use* these things for weekly meal planning if there’s not enough to last a week???

I swear I am grateful for these resources I’m sure they’re doing the best they can with what they have I’m just *frustrated*. I’m trying to spend less on groceries bc I can’t really afford them. It’s nice that the food pantry gives me these small portions to last me a couple days. But that still leaves several days with not enough food unless I’m really creative or go grocery shopping, and I simply do not have the energy or time to be really creative.

[quietwingsinthesky]

the apartmentverse urge to make the assassins weird immortals due to interacting with the apple who all survive to the modern day and have to Deal with mundane things like public transport…

[gunkbaby]

ik most of u dont agree with my ed tokyo ghoul takes and that’s fine. but there is something so validating about an almost entire cast of characters for whom eating is a task that inherently involves a lot of guilt and shame.