#but now i have to cleanse the palate with my favourite pain

[dandelionjack]

YAYAYAYYY UTOPIA :3 UTOPIA TIME!

[controllo-totale]

The embrace

(I wanted to start writing some sort of thinspo moments for motivation so here it goes, let me know what you think pretty please)

The alarm clock rings, and as I crawl out of my warm bed, I immediately get filled with worry: I need to go to the bathroom, right now. In over two years of relapse I can't never time my laxatives correctly, and I end up not even seeing relief, or much worse, waking up with immense pain. But beauty is pain, right?

My apartment is so small that going to the bathroom is a 3 steps' journey, without the complications of having to run through a huge or even normal house. I once dreamt of money and house on two stories, but my appetite gave advice to my wallet, and so it shut close.

I undress myself in the fastest way I know, which is literally undressing on the toilet, while using the toilet.

My scale shines in a way it hasn't in a while, I cleaned the puke stains from it yesterday and it's beautiful now; my feet activate the engine, that provides me with a good amount of motivation for the day. Finally 65kg, a weight so good and that I hadn't seen reflected from a scale in so long. I dance, cold and barefoot, and take a picture, I need to save this moment, to have and savour it forever.

I go to the kitchen, my espresso machine ready from the night before, I just turn the stove on and let it it's magic. Breakfast starts with a huge glass of cold sparkling water, and usually the same boring meals in rotation: yogurt, or fruit, or oatmeal. Once every blue moon I allow myself a couple scrambled eggs, but this ought to change from now: to keep the motivation up, a new rule takes place, and knowing that all my limits are like bible script to me, I write it in my mind: no more eggs, no more dairy.

I already cut out all pastries and breads, all meat, fish, and substitutes, the last thing is now eggs and dairy. I love my greek yogurt, but soy is just as good.

I pick up a pear and start peeling it, making sure it's very messy, and the pulp is mostly on the peel rather that on the plate - « I've never been any good peeling fruits » - and after that, my coffee is done brewing. I love coffee, being Italian has been good a gift and a curse. Why couldn't I have celiac's disease, or something of that nature? Why must I enjoy all foods alike, I ponder, drinking my coffee and cleansing my palate with a morsel of pear.

The morning ends with me getting ready for work, while incredibly early for it: I know I'll be going to the library to read and study, and after work I'll head to the gym, and workout, as always. I apply one last coat of mascara and get dressed with my new coat, and put on my shoes. After that just ran out the door, so that I can be the first to be at the library and take my favourite spot.

The mist is so dense this morning that catching the tram was all thanks to fortune, not being able to see a thing, despite my new glasses. I put on my headphones and immerge myself in the novel I've been enjoying, about history and Christianity and all things adventure. After my latest read of over 600 pages I need something light to chill and let my mind wander. I usually read in all the languages I know, favouring the language the book has been originally written in, but now all I need is to read and have fun, so these few minutes of commute pass happily.

My stop comes too soon, and I angrily stop my reading on the most exciting part as of now.

Walking with this weather has always made me feel like I belong, the sky still dark blue, the mist, the cold sharpness of the wind, trying to slice the delicate skin of my cheeks in minuscule pieces. I feel like I want to be here. I walk and I feel good, life is good, my body one step closer to perfection: my uniform pants fall loose on my legs, my coat at first too tigh is now the right size, my beanie is fitting better, everything is better.

I am better now.

Still not good enough, but better.

60kg here I come.

(let me know what you think, hope you enjoyed)

[evermetnotforgotten]

content warnings: stabbing.

The man glared at Martin as he entered the room. Slow and deliberate movements, tracked by vigilant eyes.

“How are you feeling this morning?”

“Go stick your dick in a landmine, you fucking freak,” came the acerbic reply.

Martin hummed. “Bit of a spitfire, aren’t you?” he said, amusement ringing in his voice. He was much less amused when, stepping closer to the man, a literal glob of spit came far too close to landing on him.

He stepped forward quickly, closing the rest of the distance between himself and Niels, who was currently cuffed and hanging from a hook in the ceiling. Grabbing him firmly by the jaw, so he couldn’t open his mouth and take another shot. He pushed the head back, examining dyed hair and the blond roots underneath, the blue bruises. The narrowed eyes, glittering with rage, hate, indignation.

Not fear. Not yet.

“Spit on my new shoes and I’ll cut your tongue out, Niels Bohr.”

Niels’ speech was impeded by the grip, but he seemed to press right on despite that obstacle. Furious. “So, what are you going to do, huh? You going to put a fucking dog collar on me? Like you had that kid in? Huh?”

Martin laughed. Then threw his head back, and laughed harder. “Nej, nej, nej,” he replied. Making sure to use the Danish pronunciation, rather than his usual Swedish—always willing to accommodate a guest. “You think you’re worthy of that? Come on. That collar was a gift, one that had been earned.”

Rolling his eyes, Niels scoffed. “Yeah I’ll bet it was. He just looked really fucking pleased about his gift, that whole time. Not as if he was scared nearly to death of what would happen, if he didn’t do exactly whatever you said.” He twisted in the restraints, relatively muscular arms pulling down on the cuffs, as if to lurch in Martin’s direction and strangle him. Martin smiled, thinking on how he so often had that effect on people.

“Hm. You backed down pretty quickly for how big you’re talking now.”

Niels was unfazed. “I’m not gonna play your fucking games, you piece of shit.”

Such a stark change of pace. Like a cleanse of the palate. He could work with this.

“I’m not sure I’m going to enjoy hurting you as much as I did him. Oh well,” Martin said pleasantly, patting the man roughly on the cheek, enjoying the way he shifted uselessly to try and avoid it. “Maybe you’ll surprise me.” He walked over to the shelving on the far wall of the room, watching out of the corner of his eye the way Niels tried to turn to follow him.

He wasn’t going to bother introducing the Dane to each knife individually, as he had done with his boy. The fucker wouldn’t appreciate them like Lev had. No—this would be more like a quick fix, than a slow burn. He didn’t have all that much time to kill, anyway… just needed a bit to wet his hands. Just to help him calm down. He settled on a favourite of his, before walking back to the centre of the room.

Niels screamed as the blade entered him, arching his back, and then again, more strangled and desperate as Martin pressed up and twisted. Kicking his legs backward, Niels connected with a shin behind him, but to little effect. The blood that rushed from the wound when he withdrew the knife was enough to keep him sated, for now. Martin wiped the steel against the man’s trousers, making sure to make a little cut there, too. Admiring the way the slice bloomed, quickly staining dark across the material there.

As soon as he had breath, the man launched into a round of colourful curses—an eclectic mixture of English, Danish, even a little German, in whatever combination of vulgarities and damnations the man could dream up. Hurling them like grenades.

“That was a good little scream. We may make a collared man out of you yet.”

“Get fucked,” the man panted, between pained grunts. “I will bite your fingers bloody every time you try.”

“No problem, Niels.” Patience being a virtue, and one he had in spades. He pat him on the cheek again, though Niels jerked his head away with even more of a snarl than before.

“We have all the time in the world.”