#i cannot make a thirst trap to save my life

[im-sorry-what-ii]

I'm starting to wonder if I should just permanently put a gay flag border around any Ice edit I make from now on cuz it's very literally all I can think of when I edit him. gay. no straight person does that.

[giuliettagaltieri]

Duel of Knowledge

Pairing: Uni Student!Coriolanus Snow x Uni Student!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: The Rival

Warning: academic rivalry, elitism, morally gray reader, greed, Dr. Gaul's laboratory, mentions of mutated animals, Capitol cruelty, nepotism, spoilers

Word Count: 2487

2 of 6

It was a fresh start for Coriolanus Snow.  A life in the university, studying under Dr. Volumnia Gaul. 

After District 12.  He was a different man.  His purpose now was clearer, his actions more calculated, more dangerous.

Society welcomed him with open arms.  The star mentor, the academy protégé, and Crassus Snow’s legacy.

Life was also serving him well.  He no longer had to wear buttons made from the bathroom tiles.  No poisoned rats to dispose of.

Sejanus Plinth’s parents invite him for a luncheon on weekends.  He also met the president a couple of times because of the said couple.  Dr. Gaul has also been most helpful.

Had it not been for her, Coriolanus would still be rotting away in District 12.

The university was almost similar to the academy, only better.

He was with the same set of people he studied with.  Although, Clemensia Dovecot steers away from him now.  Two small scars from sharp fangs reminded her what happens when she crosses Coriolanus Snow.

The lessons are much more difficult than what was taught in the Academy but it was nothing he cannot conquer.  He was blessed with the most brilliant minds.

Connections made in the University are better too.  The people he meets are the ones who are currently the ones ruling the world.

The secrets he learns about them, invaluable.

Coriolanus understands the power that a piece of information can hold.

Information saved his tribute in the games.

Information nearly got him hanged.

Information nearly drove him mad.

There were all sorts of it.  Right, wrong.  It was up to you how you use it.  And use it well, he did.

And then, there was you.

The daughter of Thanatos Swansworth, a former associate of his late father.

He had gotten to know you as the girl who craved his attention and thirsted for his validation.

The last time he saw you, he knew he might have broken your heart.  You were just good at covering it up with your smiles.

And until today, he is seeing that exact same smile from across the room.

The air around you is different.  You are more mature, more sure of yourself.  You carry yourself with confidence like how a real Capitol woman does.

“While ethical implication might raise some concerns about the modified epigenetics, the boldness of the concept and the possibility of pioneering a breakthrough is reason enough to continue this research.  My study can advance the frontiers of science in a way that benefits humanity on a broader scale.”  You spoke calmly to Dr. Volumnia Gaul as she cross examined you for your research.

Coriolanus sat with his back resting against the chair, his calculating eyes watching your firm yet inviting demeanor.

A few more questions from Dr. Gaul did not make you falter, you managed to make every query an opportunity to showcase your work.  It was something that he can commend.

“Miss Swansworth, I would like you to come to my office later on to further discuss these ideas of yours.”  Dr. Gaul grins at you.

A glint of pride is visible in your eyes, making Coriolanus narrow his.

“Of course, Dr. Gaul.”

It seems he has competition for Dr. Gaul’s odd fascinations.

Coriolanus watches you return to your seat, his finger tapping atop his desk.

A focused look was plastered on Coriolanus’ face the entire day, he almost cannot wait to meet you by Dr. Gaul’s lab later.

When classes are over, he makes his way to the secured lab of Dr. Gaul.  The strong smell of formaldehyde greets his nose, he has come to get used to it.

His steps are long and purposeful but he was careful enough to silence his glide.

And he was glad he did.

He finds you crouched in a corner, your skirt touching the floor, you are too engrossed with a mutated animal that was trapped behind the glass.

“You found Thumper.”

The startled squeak you made had a sadistic smile spreading on Coriolanus’ lips. 

You glare up at him before standing up.  “Do not sneak up on me.”  You say coldly.  “Especially here.”

The mutated rabbit in front of you gives a jolt with the sound of your voice, its eyes trained on you.

“What did she do to it?”  You ask silently, looking at the mutated animal with chin slightly tipped higher.

Coriolanus stands next to you to eye the poor rabbit. 

Its once soft fur was replaced with a coarse beard-like iridescent coat.  Its paws were bigger with ears larger than normal, and its eyes, ghostly pale.

“Nothing.  The rabbit was exposed to the toxic aftermath of an outdoor experiment.  We had it captured in case it proved dangerous.”

“Is it?”  You ask, trying to maintain your indifference.

“Do you pity that mutt, Miss Swansworth?”

Both you and Coriolanus straighten your posture as Dr. Gaul saunters inside her lab.

“It simply piqued my curiosity.”  You respond carefully.

Coriolanus leaves your side to sit himself in a desk set off for him and your eyes squint at how he acts so casually in the place.

“That was a good presentation you gave earlier.”  Dr. Gaul says as she cuts open what you think is-...was a salamander.

“Thank you, Dr. Gaul.”  You try to not to sound too giddy, you must have failed as you hear a snicker from Coriolanus.

Her hand stills and she looks at you with those dangerous eyes of hers making you hold your breath.

“You mentioned earlier that your study can advance the frontiers of science and that humanity can benefit on a broader scale.”  She looks at you fully now.  “To whom are you referring to, with this…‘humanity’?”  She waves her blood red glove in the air as she asks.

The scratching of pen stills from Coriolanus’ desk and you match Dr. Gaul’s intense stare with yours.

“Who else but us, Dr. Gaul.  The outcomes of my research will contribute to the collective well-being of the Capitol.  Subsequently, the Districts can derive…some advantages from the positive outcomes we achieve.  We cannot reap the same rewards.”  You tilt your head to the side, looking at her coyly from under your eyelashes.  “Afterall, anyone who is not us is an enemy.”

Coriolanus looks up from his desk to eye you.  Dr. Gaul recognizes the look.  It was the same one Crassus Snow had when he married his wife, and the exact same when he submitted the idea he had stolen from Casca Highbottom.  Dr. Gaul only laughs as she resumes her work.

“Would you be interested in studying under me?”  She asks after calming down from her crazed outburst.  “I see potential in you, just like Mr. Snow.  I would love to watch the two of you rise to power.”

You glance at him from your shoulder and find him already looking at you with so much intensity.  You had your eyes on him as you uttered your next words.  “I would love to, Dr. Gaul.”  With much satisfaction, you watched his jaw tighten, bringing a sly smile to your lips.

Having to work after classes in the laboratory gave Coriolanus a chance to observe you.

You were very much like the person you were before he left, but ironically, also really different.

He recognizes the way your eyes narrow and how your hand finds your chin when you encounter a setback.  You also became really proper.  The smiles you gladly throw at everyone back in the academy are gone.  You attended the social events alone too, no longer following Coriolanus around to get him to ask you to come as his date.

There was also the swarm of boys he loathed.

You did not entertain them of course, kindly declining their invites for coffees and luncheons.

“You seem awfully popular with the male population of the Capitol.”

The comment did not stop your movements, not even for a second.  The decadent caramel tart was far too good to waste a moment.

“Mmh, it appears so.”  You reply to Corioalanus who seated himself in front of you at your table.  You preferred having lunch alone, it gave you time to think.  But apparently, that was too much to ask.

You saw this a mile away.  He was coming to talk to you sooner than later, and here he is.  His caramel tart ignored as the polished man found you more interesting.

Wiping your mouth with a napkin, you reach for your coffee as you locked eyes with him.  Almost taunting him to say something about it.

Now, with his slicked back platinum hair, tight jaw, and eyes so cold and calculating.  He looks every bit like his father.

“Is that all you are here for? To talk about my suitors?”  You lean back in your chair, careful to keep your posture straight.

Certainly, that is not all he is here for.  You have witnessed this all around you, even back in the academy.  Protégés sizing up their enemies and rooting out possible competition.  It was not your fault Dr. Gaul was interested in how your mind works, although you have to be responsible for your mischievous glances after you win an argument against him.

Winning arguments, if only you knew how much he was holding back, to save you the embarrassment, to not scare you away with his twisted arguments.

He is letting you go as you please, letting you think you are winning, it would be far more rewarding when he steals the prize right before your eyes.

Coriolanus wonders if he can get you to cry.

“No.”  He grins charmingly, making your blood freeze.  “The Plinths invited me to golf this Sunday.  They asked me to bring a friend.”

Your eyes dart all around his face, trying to search for something that would give him away.

“What are you playing at?”  You spoke slowly.

Coriolanus only laughs heartily, a hand placed over his chest in feign hurt.  “You wound me.  I simply wanted to catch up.  Afterall…”  His eyes dart to the family crest pinned on your chest, his eyes suddenly darkening, smile sharpening dangerously as he looks up at you with hooded eyes.  “We’re childhood friends, aren’t we?”

He can be very persuasive. 

Especially those eyes of his.

You heave a sigh and gently bring your cup to your lips, taking your time to sip. 

“Alright.”

“Perfect.”  He beams brightly.  There is something awfully unsettling about it.

Coriolanus Snow finds your distrustful nature inviting.  You are right to be wary of him. 

Sunday comes faster than you would have appreciated. 

The Plinths were very kind people.  Partly because they oh so wanted to be accepted in the Capitol. 

You are leaning on the golf cart, arms folded as you watch Coriolanus laugh with Sejanus Plinth’s parents.

Your thinking posture returns as you observe them.  Back in the academy, you do not recall Coriolanus and Sejanus to be very close.  They were acquaintances, yes.  Nothing beyond that.  In retrospect, Sejanus was a really lonely kid.  Everybody loved his money but friendship with him was something the Capitol kids never crossed.  The kindness Coriolanus showed him, he must have mistaken it for bond.

Poor Sejanus.

“Y/N.”  Mrs. Plinth calls you over and you fix your sunglasses back on and you head their way.

“Sorry, needed to cool off a bit.”  You smile at them.

“Oh, of course.  Would you like some refreshments?”  She asked, worried.  You smile at her, watching closely if this is real or not.  It might be.

Coriolanus swings his club and sends the ball flying to the cup.

Mr. Plinth slaps his back showering the young boy with compliments.

You are unaware that it was you who is being watched now.

“It has been difficult for my husband and I.”  Mrs. Plinth says softly as she guides you under the shade and pours you a tall glass of lemonade.

You thank her but are not letting your guard down for whatever she may spring at you.

“Our son is gone but that boy.”  She smiles in the direction of Coriolanus.  “Our son loved him like a brother.  It may be selfish on my part but I see my boy in him.”

You drop your head, watching your reflection in the lemonade.

“And he has the Plinths’ full support for his endeavors.”

This catches your attention and the woman smiles at your expression.

“In every victory Panem has, there is always a Snow behind it.”  She raises her chin to gauge your reaction.  “And a Swansworth to help them see it through.”

You tip your own chin up and watch Coriolanus do a perfect swing.

“And so there is.”  You give her a sly smile and she returns it with her own.

You might have just met an ally.

The day ends and you cannot be upset with how it turned out.

“In a better mood, are we?”  Coriolanus says cooly, lips tugging up to one side.

You shrug as you both enter the building where you both live.  “Mrs. Plinth is not an awful company.”  A playful smile is also thrown his way.  “I also enjoyed the view.”

There it is.

“Oh, you did, didn’t you?”  He stops you dead on your tracks, preventing you from getting in the elevator.

You did not let his height be a great advantage as you met him with a proud smile.  “The golf course, I mean.”

“Indeed, the golf course.”  He nods as he looks down at you, a smirk tugging on his lips.  “The golf course with its blistering heat and dry wind, that golf course.”

“Exactly.”  You smile sardonically.  “Now, if you don’t mind, I must get to my apartment.”

He lets you inside the elevator and he follows closely.

You stand next to him in silence as the elevator ascends.

A couple of times, your gazes meet in your reflection.

“I’m running as president.”

You sigh as your back meets the cold elevator wall.

“I know.”

He looks at you now, arm leaning on the handrail.

“I want you with me.”

You roll your eyes, arms crossing.

“I was afraid you’d ask.”

He chuckles lowly.

For a moment, only the soft whirring of the elevator accompanied by the classical tune playing was the only noise filling the space.

“Forgive me.”  He finally says.

It is long overdue but you appreciate it still.

“There is nothing to forgive.”

The elevator dings and you get off.  He walks you to your apartment. 

“Good night, Y/N Swansworth.”

“Good night, Coriolanus Snow.”

And you gently close the door, your eye contact never breaking until all you see is the hardwood door.

You stand there for a long time, contemplating.  Your apartment is cold and empty but the lights from Capitol reflect inside your apartment, casting a soft glow in your family portrait and you look at your father in the eyes.

“Snow will land on top.”

Hunt for Glory

[onyourowndaisymae]

Yoo I have two request which I’ll send the other one separately but I am in an ANGSTY mood rn sooo yah also been binging ur headcanons and stuffs and I just love the way you write ?? It’s so entertaining lol

AnywY the actual request: can you write like a one shot or headcanons if you prefer of mc who is struggling after the belphie incident ?? Like they feel like they’ve mostly forgiven him and can act normally around him and they’re friends and take naps together but sometimes the flash back just HITS THEM and they have nightmares and panic attacks that can be so bad sometimes someone needs to get Simeon to calm them down. Maybe something of how the brothers react/treat mc and belphie? Idk I’m just thirsting for like MEGA ANGST rn bc my dad made me cry little bit lmao 😭

it comes at night

hello anon! i'm terribly sorry you're in such an angsty mood, though i thank you for all the love-- and for sending this request right as these ideas were on the front of my mind. it genuinely makes me so happy to see people enjoying my work, and it makes all the writer's block and such worth it. i cannot express enough how much i love seeing all the comments, reblogs, etc. as people engage with my work.

anyways. i'm not sure how i feel about this piece, especially with how LONG it ended up being, but maybe that's just my mushy brain talking after looking at it too long. regardless-- i hope you enjoy (well, y'know, in like a sad and angsty way).

synopsis: you thought you would be able to move on like all the others. your body was healed, your anxiety tucked neatly behind a mental wall built to keep you safe. yet something in you was stuck. you couldn't just move on. you were trapped in a battle between your friendship with belphegor and the fear gnawing at your brain as you remembered what exactly he did to you. when the dam finally breaks, your whole brain floods with terror, until you're swept away with it. nobody can save you now.

genre: angst, no happy end, just a big ol spoonful of sadness

word count: ~3.1k

content warnings: chapter 16 spoilers, graphic(?) discussions of death, depictions of panic attacks, nightmares, mc progressively getting worse from fear + lack of sleep

it's funny how time works. 

you'd been around your fair share of years. you’d grown, you’d changed, you’d spent your entire life looking toward the future you had planned. then you, a mere human, were yanked into an unfamiliar world. you spent an entire year in the devildom– a year that simultaneously dragged on and flew by– and came out the other side a new person. a single year in the devildom has changed you more than the human realm has your entire life. time was a mischievous thing, always leaving you chasing behind in a fruitless pursuit of something you’ll never quite understand.

but, she also brings blessings with her. they say that time heals all wounds. you've always agreed with that sentiment. scraped knees and adolescent broken hearts are swept away with the passing days, trailing further and further behind you until one day you forget to look back and remember them. the pain scribbled down on diary pages or cried into pillow cases no longer stings like a fresh burn. these things are nothing but scars now. time has a special way of patching you up, of rubbing your back until the tears clear up and you can finally see again. that is how it's always been. 

where is time when you need it? 

she hasn't quite abandoned you, this much is true. cuts and bruises heal over the passing days. your hair and nails still grow. your body still changes, slowly but surely, marching onwards week after week. yet your mind is trapped in stasis. you struggle to break free, but at times the rot consumes you whole, until you’re crying under the covers and begging from respite from the memories. 

on the worst nights, you find yourself in the attic again, watching the door between you and belphegor swing open. you watch yourself march towards death.

you can still feel his hands around your neck, digging his claws into your fragile human skin like you're made of sand. the scent of blood-- your own blood, on the floors, on the walls, leaking from your torso and staining your clothes a permanent maroon-- still clings to the inside of your nose. even your wildest dreams could not erase the sight of his smug grin, the way his eyes lit up looking at your battered body.

no one person should have to carry the weight of realizing they're going to die. that's what you thought about when your body hit the bottom of the stairs, when belphegor tossed you down from the attic with a harsh laugh and punted your limp body into the entrance hall. you thought about how unfair this all was. you were just trying to help. you thought you were doing the right thing.

one of the worst parts of your untimely demise was watching the others react. the voices pool together in your head, like the colors of the rainbow twisting together on the surface of an oil spill. asmo's panicked shriek blends into satan's angry shouts, desperate to understand what's going on. lucifer's yelling almost drowns out the fearful cries coming from levi, held back by a very silent beel. 

but above all of that, you remember mammon. your first man, the first demon who took a chance on the defenseless little human, rushing to your side and gathering you in his arms like you were about to break. his hand on the side of your face, the tears streaming down his face, the shaky, desperate voice assuring you that you'll be okay and begging you to hang on, okay? please don't leave me. you can't remember if he was shaking or if it was your body's last ditch effort to stay conscious-- maybe both. your trembling fingers intertwined with his. words came out of your mouth, and you're not sure what exactly you said, but he only cried harder in response. 

and then, as your eyes shut for the final time, you woke at the bottom of the attic stairs. you had cheated death. 

your price? you had to carry the memories. 

the world kept spinning. days passed in the devildom. you returned to school, kept on top of your homework, spent your days in the house of lamentation alongside the seven demon brothers. you even got to know belphegor as he navigated his return home. he quickly grew fond of you. that, in and of itself, was jarring. but you returned each and every smile with one of your own. his actions were rooted in his own grief for his sister, you knew, and for that you could not fault him. you helped him repair the severed relationships between him and his elder siblings, stitching the family back together like a prized quilt until the seams of betrayal were sufficiently hidden. 

time is a traitorous bitch. why did she choose now to leave your wounds bare and bleeding?

everyone moved on but you. everyone got to wake up in the mornings without a nagging anxiety holding them back. the others could hang out with belphegor day in and day out without a growing feeling of dread popping up when you think you're safe. 

he killed you. he was grieving. your blood drenched the entryway floors as he laughed. he has grown. you watched the light leave mammon's eyes as you slipped away. belphie has been nothing but kind to you since that day. you fucking died. 

you wish your mind could pick a side. did you forgive him, or did you resent him? was he your friend, or your killer? these answers evaded you in the dead of night as you struggled to sleep again. it was becoming more common for you to lose hours of rest to these nagging fears. who are you? are you even you anymore? did the switch in timelines scatter your atoms across countless universes, leaving the you that looks back at you in the mirror nothing more than a hollow shell? 

you thought that you could keep your mind on a tight leash, keep your cards close to your chest as you continued to live with the brothers. you were wrong.

the first meltdown came during a nap with belphie. you had grown to trust him-- you thought you trusted him-- enough to sleep around him. he'd coax you every so often into an afternoon nap. always in the light of day, always your choice. and for many afternoons, you were perfectly content with this arrangement. belphie was warm and cuddly, a perfect companion for a lazy afternoon. he had this way of making you feel safe as you slept-- the nightmares couldn't come when he was snuggled up next to you, when you were sure his actions were ones of affection and not another trick to gain your trust.

one afternoon, while the sun was beginning to set, you stirred under the warmth of the blankets. the body next to yours lingered close, steady breaths lulling you back to dreamland. you could stay like this forever, you thought.

and then you felt it. the gentle graze of a familiar cow tail against your skin.

something inside of you, a dam you didn't even know was there, snapped. a hot flash of panic rose up your throat as your whole body jerked away from the feeling. your eyes shot open and you found yourself in the last place you needed to be right now: the attic. you pulled yourself out of bed before your brain could catch up. colors flashed across your vision as a consequence. you whipped around, disoriented and upset, and spotted a sleeping belphie in the bed where you once were.

a sleeping, demon belphie.

the familiar curve of his horns made your throat spasm as you tried to breathe. the colors flashed in your vision again-- oh god, what a terrible time to be left defenseless-- as your brain tried to drag you back to that day. you could practically see his face shift from relief to malicious, insidious joy as he began to attack you.

"hehe... does it hurt? finding it hard to breathe? i'm sure it must be very unpleasant."

please. please no.

" i have to say, seeing a human face twisted in pain like this... why, it's so much fun that i can barely stand it! i... i can't contain the laughter!"

you weren't quite sure when you hit the ground, but it was loud enough to wake belphegor from his slumber. he peeled his body off the mattress, slow and dazed, as he looked for you.

"mc? what're you... what's going on?"

please don't. this can't be happening.

your lungs collapsed from the weight of your own panic. you gasped-- once, twice, as your vision went in and out. were you bleeding? your hand loosely brushed at the front of your clothes, but couldn't process whether that was blood or your vivid imagination. were you even breathing? your head felt light and heavy at the same time. the wires in your brain were all crossed, sending both resuscitation and shutdown signals to each part of your body. this feeling... this was too familiar.

were you dying?

"mc, what's going on?"

you came face to face with belphegor. your friend, your killer. the demon who had lured you up to this very attic to kill you, now gripping your shoulders as interrogated you inches from your face.

you screamed. you screamed until your brain shut off completely, leaving you in an inky pit of darkness as your consciousness slipped away.

the house was in disarray for several days. apparently, lucifer came in shortly after you passed out, mammon at his heels, to save the day. you woke up later in his bed, the room cold and empty, with a throbbing head and a tear stained pillow. you stumbled out into his office to find him at his desk, lost in some paperwork like always. the solemn look he gave you as your eyes met told you everything you needed to know.

from this day forth, your fear was now your constant companion.

nobody in the house of lamentation knew how to move forward. not you, not the brothers, not the widening gap growing between you all with each passing day spent in emotional limbo. finally, lucifer called everyone to a family meeting where, over the course of an hour or two, everyone came to an agreement to acknowledge what had happened and why, promised to be mindful of this trauma that you're carrying, and move forward like you requested.

silent days slowly but surely filled back up with laughter again. the brothers came back to your side at their own pace-- asmo first, within a matter of hours, then mammon shortly after, then the others in the following days.

belphegor was the last to come around. his silence spoke volumes about his guilt. he had no clue how to comfort you. he'd do anything to repent for his actions. yet that was the way that life worked, didn't it? some actions simply cannot be undone.

but you didn't let that stop you. despite the panic that closed your throat every time you saw him for the next month, you slowly earned his friendship again. you assured him that the attic incident was a one time thing, the remnants of a lost nightmare blending into your consciousness as you awoke.

until it wasn't a one time thing.

the nightmares crept up on you. the first one happened, of course, that same night, as you thrashed and wept into lucifer's pillows. then a week later, another. a week and a half after that, another. the frequency eventually became higher and higher, until you started planning your sleep schedule (or lack thereof) around your new insomniac tendencies. but even you couldn't manage to stay awake forever.

on a bad night, you'd wake up in tears, crying weakly to yourself as you tried to coax yourself back to bed. on worse nights, you'd shoot up out of bed, limbs tingling in fear, opting to spend the rest of the night in the common room until the others woke for the day. on the worst night, you finally broke. you shattered worse than you could have imagined.

you finally collapsed into bed, body shutting down after a three days of minimal sleep. you were starting to get shaky from the lack of rest, and your lack of appetite was upsetting the others. you crawled under the covers and let your brain slip out of your hands and off to dreamland.

what a fool you were to think you'd get by without nightmares.

visions of demonic teeth tearing at your flesh filled your head. you tried to run away, tried desperately to wake yourself up, but their claws sunk into your flesh. the pain was vivid, was real. memories of your death lived underneath your skin, ready to resurface in the dark of night when there was no escape. you fought back as best you could, kicking and screaming and trying to run, but you were no match for the supernatural strength of your demons. you eventually gave in, an act of learned helplessness, and surrendered yourself to your worst nightmares.

you woke up choking on your own tears. heaving, gasping breaths tried to save you, mixing with coughs as your body struggled to hang on. the tears finally gave way to the memories-- hot blood dripping from your torso, screaming faces begging you to stay, your head going fuzzy as your vision followed--and your screams escaped without a fight.

a mixed cacophony of voices came flooding in the room. you'd be touched by the gesture, seeking comfort in the arms of your dearest friends, if your brain hadn't reminded you that they were demons as well. nightmarish beasts with fangs and claws, predators built to rip your soft flesh from your bones and leave you to die like roadkill.

you felt a hand on your shoulder. who's was it? you could not tell. your first and only instinct was to scream for mercy, hot tears streaming down your face as mammon's hurt expression moved back out of your line of sight. your chest heaved with effort. it felt like your whole body was caving in on itself. you didn't even realize you were shaking as you curled your body into a ball. your side hit the mattress with a pathetic thud and you wept, bitter and fearful, as a panic attack kept you trapped in its grip.

you don't know how long you stayed curled up like that, wordless cries echoing from your room and into the hallway, but eventually the sound of approaching footsteps caught enough of your attention to forget the panic, even if just for a moment.

"hey, it's okay," a familiar, comforting voice approached, cutting through the fear like a moonlight on a stormy night. "mc, it's me, it's simeon. it's going to be okay."

you felt the bed shift under the weight of someone sitting down, and you blindly threw your body at the person before checking to see if it was really him. it took you a few moments to raise your head, and when you did, you saw him: simeon, your angel, blue eyes full of worry as he met your gaze.

you cried in his arms until you fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

the next morning was miserable, to say the least. breakfast was tense. they all watched you like a hawk, like you were a powder keg about to explode with one wrong move. you couldn't blame them. you were afraid of your own emotions, and on some level, you were afraid of them. your trauma was making you afraid of the very people you cared about the most. these brothers had welcomed you into their home, took care of you as you adjusted to life in the devildom, and yet you couldn't hold eye contact without breaking in to a cold sweat.

the only person who did not watch you was belphegor. he was nowhere to be found during breakfast, nor dinner, nor breakfast the following day. you tried to seek him out, but somehow the avatar of sloth had become a skilled sneak in his silence.

you finally caught him alone on day four of radio silence. you both had stayed home without realizing the other had also skipped school that day-- you, from the lack of sleep eating at your brain, and belphegor, with his usual routine of missing class to nap at the house of lamentation. he was curled up on the couch in the common room, basking in the warmth of the fireplace in his slumber. you decided to wait for him to wake up. you sat down on the couch opposite of the one where he rested and watched him, quietly, like he'd disappear if you dared to blink.

creepy? yes. but your brain was long ruined by sleep deprivation and gnawing anxiety to worry about such trivial things.

when he finally stirred, you gently called belphegor's name. he took a moment to finally look at the source of the voice, but when he did, his body froze as the two of you made eye contact. a few moments passed in silence. finally, he sat up and began to make a move to leave.

"wait."

he stopped, but his gaze did not meet yours. you rose from your seat and joined him on the couch. the youngest pulled his legs in, twisting his body into a defensive little ball, and countered your next sentence before you could even open your mouth.

"you shouldn't be here with me."

"i think i'm old enough to make decisions for myself."

he shifted uncomfortably in the silence. you spoke again.

"i miss you. and i'm sorry."

he scoffed to himself and stared at the fireplace. "don't know why you think you should be apologizing to me. i'm the one that's the problem."

"you're not a problem, belphie. i never meant to make you feel like one."

every hair on your body stood on end. your hands trembled against your wishes, so you sat on them to stay focused. you had to do this. you had to keep moving forward.

"i hurt you, mc. you're afraid i'm going to do it again."

you sighed-- it came out more shaky than you would have liked-- and looked down. how had it come to this? how had someone you'd grown to hold so dear become a stranger again?

"i don't want to stop being friends. i don't like when you avoid me."

"you still get nightmares, don't you?"

you pause. his icy gaze on the side of your head sent you into a cold sweat.

you smiled-- it felt more like a grimace, personally-- and prayed it didn't come across insincere. your fingers carefully intertwined with his. he met your gaze. you were thankful he couldn't see the way your chest tightened when you made eye contact. 

"i'm okay, belphie," you lied. 

this fear was going to be the death of you. 

[lu-sn]

Gremlin Macau for the prompt ? Or ramble on about Macau? 😬

huh. how the heck did you know i think about macau 24/7 😂

here's a post-canon headcanon for you:

neither vegas nor pete are any good at taking photos. vegas will obediently point a camera in macau's direction whenever macau asks ("uh, yeah, hia, i can and will shove all fifteen of these marshmallows in my mouth, are you doubting me") — but vegas doesn't have the instinct to take photos on his own, and the only selfies he's ever taken are thirst traps and dick pics as part of his ill-advised seduction attempts (not that macau knows this, bless his soul). pete, on the other hand, wasn't allowed a cellphone as a bodyguard, and cellphone technology evolved eight times over during his tenure, so pete can't take a good photo to save his life. stray blurry fingers in the corners of photos, light glare, terrible framing, that sort of thing.

what this means, of course, is that neither vegas nor pete have a ton of great photos of each other.

but macau is a fucking pro at this shit, okay, macau has studied the blade. so macau takes more than enough photos for the three of them, because he's great, and someone needs to document all the shit they do, and hia and phi better be thankful—

and they are. they'll linger over his shoulder as he's going through his photos, and they'll go "macau, that one's really good," and "can you send that to me?" and macau will start to sense a pattern. namely, his brother and his (soon-to-be!) brother-in-law are gross sappy dorks, and are farming him for photos of each other.

so macau, because he's the bestest little brother ever, starts to deliberately sneak shots of each of them to send to the other. totally unprompted, he'll send vegas these stunning candid shots of pete — pete playfully biting into a chicken skewer, pete waving at macau from a distance while leaning casually against their car, pete smiling off into the sunset. and vegas is down bad for these photos, macau sends him one when they're in the same room and gets to hear vegas make the most embarrassing strangled noise when he opens the notification and macau busts a lung laughing at him about it. (vegas does not put him in a headlock over it, because vegas is an addict, and vegas knows better than to piss off his dealer.)

the catch?

the photos that macau is sending to pete, of vegas... are terrible 😂 meme-worthy levels of cringe. vegas caught mid-snore, vegas's face scrunched up mid-blink, blurry chipmunk vegas with his mouth full of some food or the other. macau even manages to get a shot of vegas tripping and almost faceplanting over a loose branch on the sidewalk, and macau and pete cannot stop giggling about it for a straight fifteen minutes. (vegas is extremely suspicious, and also doesn't want to know, thanks very much.) pete eventually starts setting these photos as his phone lock screen and it drives vegas insane, but of course in the end he lets pete do whatever pete wants. of course he has no idea macau is the real culprit. (this con goes on for years.)

(but macau loves his brother too, so every once in a while, he'll do his brother justice. and he'll send something to pete, and he'll see the most gentle smile spread across pete's face, and he'll think, hell yeah. nailed it. best bro award goes to ME.)

[idleglowingpixels]

I've been contacted by a few wonderful people currently suffering from the war in Gaza recently, so I wanted to address all of them in one post! I unfortunately cannot donate myself, but want to spread the word to those who may be able to. If you cannot donate, I highly encourage you to spread the word! Please reblog this if you can!

@robarabah - Ruba and her family are trying to regain their livelihoods. She was studying to be a teacher before the war began. You can donate to her here!

@khalil-92 - Khalil is caring for his family of 12, some of whom need urgent medical care. You can donate to him here!

@ahmadallouhahmad - Ahmad is in need of support for his children, whom he is doing his best to protect in this terrible war zone. You can donate to him here!

@hadiah1 - Hadiah is in need of support for her children as well. She is trying to raise funds to bring her children to Egypt and get needed surgery done there. You can donate to her here!

@selenagh64 - Selena is thankfully in Egypt with her family, but is struggling financially after all of the devastation they have faced. You can donate to her here!

@ramezderar - Ramez has a large family of 10, in need of funding for food, supplies, and money for entry into Egypt. You can donate to him here!

@joyfultidalwaveobject - Hamdi is trying to support and keep his family safe. He wishes to rebuild his family's home and lives. You can donate to him here!

@ahmeddani3 - Ahmed is in need of dental treatment, and he and his family are trying to save up to flee from the war. You can donate to him here!

@eman-kha - Eman is raising money to care for her mother's medical expenses. You can donate to her here!

@mohammed-swierh-2 - Mohammed is a father of three looking to relocate somewhere safer for his children. You can donate to him here!

@mohameddsaker - Mohamed is caring for his own family as well as his brother's family. He's in need of money for food and to raise funds for refuge elsewhere. You can donate to him here!

(From here out I'll be posting a brief message from each account has sent a message in my ask box)

@massagaza2 - Donate here!

"My family and I are suffering from very difficult conditions. We lost our beautiful home in the Gaza Strip and I was displaced with my family, my father, my mother and my grandmother to the south of the Gaza Strip. Winter has come and the tent we live in is dilapidated and does not protect us from the cold and rain. Please help me to repair our tent and provide our daily needs of food and medicine. And also to save money so we can travel to Egypt."

@safaabed8 - Donate here!

"My condition is very critical and I need all donations in order to save my children's lives. My children deserve to live like your children Every donation makes a difference for us."

@mohammedatallah - Donate here!

"My name is Mohamed Atallah. I urgently need surgery on my left hand and to rebuild my home and my older sister Eman's home. I live with my parents, six sisters, a little girl named Malak and a little boy named Amir in northern Gaza. I created this link to fund a bone graft on my left hand that was hit by an explosive bullet, to rebuild our destroyed home and evacuate my family from Gaza to a safe place. And donate any amount for a safe life.. I would appreciate your help ❤️"

@alamoudi-ghazi - Donate here!

"My name is Ghazi Al Amoudi, and I’m reaching out to you from a place of profound despair. My family and I are trapped in Gaza, engulfed in the unrelenting turmoil of war. We’ve lost everything—our home, our safety, and the life we once knew 💔. Now, we find ourselves huddled in a fragile tent, exposed to the harsh elements, enduring hunger, thirst, and the fear that shadows us every day 💨💦. Imagine waking each morning to a world turned to ruin, with nowhere to go and nothing to hold onto.

"With a heart burdened by sorrow yet clinging to hope, I am pleading for your help 😢. Every gesture of support—whether a donation, a share, or a kind word—moves us one step closer to finding safety and solace in this nightmare. Our home, once filled with warmth and love, is now just a memory beneath the rubble 💔. We are left with only fear and uncertainty, struggling to survive each day, hoping for a compassionate hand to help us stand once more 😔."

@marahfromgaza - Donate here!

"Hello, I hope you are doing well, with you Nour and Marah from Gaza, because of this brutal war all our family members were martyred and now we are left alone without a mother or father or support in this life, we created a donation link to complete our university life and travel and build a life outside Gaza."

@jawadff - Donate here!

"Hello, I am Jawad from Gaza Married to Fairuz 😢🍉 I live in a tent, and my house was completely destroyed. help me and my children from extermination. We have not had any financial income for 10 months. I need milk, pampers, and the necessities of life Life is very difficult. I am afraid for my children from this war. Tent life Very bad insects on my children while they are sleeping, help us My children suffer from skin diseases and malnutrition. So, I ask you to help me keep my family safe and alive, especially after we had lost all our sources of livelihood. Please do not leave my family to struggle and suffer these difficult days alone."

@najw551991 - Donate here!

“I am Najwa, a mother of three from Gaza. I lost everything in this war; my home, which was our refuge, and my job, which was our source of income. Now I live with my children in a tent, trying to survive in harsh and difficult conditions, where cold, hunger and fear haunt us. I hope that my message reaches everyone who can help me, for the sake of my children, so that we can stay alive and maintain our dignity in the face of this ordeal. Hope is what keeps us steadfast, and we need a helping hand so that we and our children can have a new chance.”

@tareqayyad2 - Donate here!

"Hello, I am Tareq from Gaza Iam trying save my famliy from the genocide happening here. I ask for your help in spreading my story and donating if you can contribute anything, no matter how small.Please don,t forget to sharethe latest post from my page and follow my account to help spread the story to the world. Thank you."

@banon202 - Donate here!

"Hello, I am banan from Gaza🍉🇵🇸. I live with my family of 9 people. We live in a tent My life 😓was very beautiful before the war💔, but the war came and all my dreams and memories were destroyed😓. Our beautiful home was destroyed😓💔. I ask you to help me and my family."

---

To all of you -- thank you for reaching out to me. Please never feel ashamed of asking for help from those of us living in the rest of the world! I deeply apologize that any of you have had to suffer this way, and that you have lost loved ones. This war has ravaged your home for more than a year now, and that in and of itself is a terrible tragedy. I wish all of you as well as your families the best, and for an end to this unnecessary bloodshed. Hopefully you all will one day be able to return to your homeland in peace.

(This post will no longer be updated, as I have closed my ask box and set my messages to mutuals only. However, if you've seen this and want to share your stories, I highly recommend reaching out to @90-ghost , who shares verified stories & donation links. Thank you to all of you who reached out!)

[officeobject]

Reminder that I cannot verify, deny, nor do I like being messaged about this. I have the ask-box.

alamoudi-ghazi

11h ago

alamoudi-ghazi asked:

Imagine waking each morning to a world turned to ruin, with nowhere to go and nothing to hold onto. Vetted by: 1) gazavetters my number verified on the list is ( #89 ) 2) a-shade-of-blue Here or Here 3) 90-ghost Here or Here 4) dlxxv-vetted-donations Here

Dear Friend,

My name is Ghazi Al Amoudi, and I’m reaching out to you from a place of profound despair. My family and I are trapped in Gaza, engulfed in the unrelenting turmoil of war. We’ve lost everything—our home, our safety, and the life we once knew 💔. Now, we find ourselves huddled in a fragile tent, exposed to the harsh elements, enduring hunger, thirst, and the fear that shadows us every day 💨💦. Imagine waking each morning to a world turned to ruin, with nowhere to go and nothing to hold onto.

With a heart burdened by sorrow yet clinging to hope, I am pleading for your help 😢. Every gesture of support—whether a donation, a share, or a kind word—moves us one step closer to finding safety and solace in this nightmare. Our home, once filled with warmth and love, is now just a memory beneath the rubble 💔. We are left with only fear and uncertainty, struggling to survive each day, hoping for a compassionate hand to help us stand once more 😔.

Please, if you can find it in your heart, help us find a safe place to rest, a meal to eat, and a chance to rebuild our shattered lives 😭🙏. Even the smallest kindness can light up our darkest hours, giving us the strength to hope for a new beginning 🥺❤️.

Here is my campaign link: https://gofund.me/8a2c70d7. If donating isn’t possible, sharing our story may help us reach someone who can. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for your kindness and support 🙏❤️.

With deep gratitude, Ghazi Al Amoudi

25% of my long-term goal

2,553€ out of 10,000€

Donations are protected by GOFUNDME

Answer

noorgazas-blog

22h ago

noorgazas-blog asked:

‏Hello, I am Nour, 25 years old, from Gaza. I am being subjected to genocide. My child and I are forbidden from eating. My child needs treatment and food. The situation is tragic. We eat tree leaves and drink polluted water. Please help me for my child. He is too young to bear all this suffering. My heart breaks for him. 😭💔 Donate even a small amount. Please save my child from hunger.

https://gofund.me/aca98c3b

Answer

mahmoudayyads

1d ago

mahmoudayyads asked:

Hello dear friends! ❤🤍🖤💚

🍉I am Mahmoud Ayyad, a Palestinian from the besieged and destroyed Gaza 😭😭, coming from an extended family of young children, women and elderly people ❤❤ who have been suffering😭😭 for 300 difficult days from an aggressive war.

Our lives are harsh because we lack all the basic necessities of life. Everything has become scarce and unattainable. There is no food, no water, no medicine.

So, I ask you to help me keep my family safe and alive, especially after we had lost all our sources of livelihood.Please do not leave my family to struggle and suffer these difficult days alone. You can support my campaign by donating whatever you can or by sharing my posts to reach others who can help us survive the war to safety and peace. You are helping the lives of many people with your small contribution. Every donation makes a difference in our very difficult lives. But this is a legitimate campaign and has been checked by 90-ghost.

https://gofund.me/31c5cbe3

miskmohd

misk Mohammed, A student at the Islamic University, I study multimedia and web development. My university was destroyed in the war, and I am trying to leave Gaza to complete my education. I hope you will help me and donate to me.

Following you for less than a year

Hi dear 🤗

I'm Misk from Gaza 🇵🇸🍉

I would like to ask you a request.🙏🏻

Can you help me spread my campaign or donate even a small amount of money?🥺🙏🏻

My university has started e-learning and I cannot register because I do not own a laptop and its price is very expensive. I would like to collect money so that I can buy one to complete my studies temporarily.

If you would like to help me, even a little, I would be very grateful to you🙏🏻🥺💗

[andrewlovely]

And so they said to the seer

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul; He leads me in the paths of righteousness For His name’s sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; My cup runs over."

And the rabble said, "Look at this lunatic! Instead of keeping his eyes on the traps we have laid for him, he looks to the rocks! As if the rocks could help him! Instead of occupying his mind with our utter nonsense, he looks to the sea! As if the sea could save him!"

And the seer replied, "I look to the rocks that I might hear their laughter - for even the rocks will laugh in that moment when all your stupidities are finally taken to their ultimate conclusion - if you're lucky! For in that eschaton, even the rocks may be raised against you.

I look to the rocks because on these rocks you will find growing an algae of the purest and most beautiful green - a vibrancy of color and life you will not find, not even in your most beautiful paintings.

I listen to the sea because in the sea I hear a cool and clean imbibing - a cool thirst which drinks the rocks. And in this long drink I hear the very temperance of my own soul - the forbearance which allows me to remain tranquil even as these clowns are paraded before me - even as these unspeakable and outrageous acts are fabricated and acted out before me (and by bad actors I might add - you won't be winning an Oscar anytime soon) - as if I should feign some kind of outrage or make a show of calling the police - as if I don't already know that this whole charade has been put on either by the authorities themselves, or by misguided vigilantes whose combined intelligence quotients might not add up to the sum total of even one functioning human being, let alone to any findings or series of conclusions which could, or should ever be taken seriously by any serious person.

In short, I look to the rocks and I look to the sea because in them I find a beauty that I don't find in you. Perhaps I am simply aware of and appreciate things that you don't appreciate. But that would be too kind, as even if you were inclined to appreciate the things that I appreciate, you wouldn't be able to. And even if you did happen to find any beauty, perhaps by some unfortunate accident, you wouldn't even know what to do with it anyway. You'd probably cage it, or destroy it, or worse. That is your sick instinct.

The truth is I just find the rocks to be more interesting than you. And still again I am being too generous, for if you and your lot were simply uninteresting, well, that would be well and good, and well within your rights! But you are far worse than that and far fouler - one does well to avert their eyes from your προβοκάτσια and one might as well cover up their nose too just in case, for good measure, just to be safe.

A city on a hill cannot be hidden, and neither can the rank stench of an open sewer.

Do not provoke the anger of a gentle man - for his wrath will be a righteous wrath - not akin to the vile violence you dispense (and illegitimately I might add), but a bright light shined on all your iniquity and incompetence - for even perverse competence amounts to incompetence ultimately - and that will be your legacy at best: that you learned to do the wrong thing perfectly."

[rosewood-multifandom-writer]

Reblogging this a second time this time on here because Capcom really has no clue how rapid aging works. So, for one, there is a difference between a growth spurt and rapid aging. And two, what doesn’t help is that Capcom selectively does not specify ages in characters. Specifically, in Street Fighter 6 from what I’ve seen, characters that are young without a specified age like Ed, Kimberly, and Lily are in the current roster without specified ages.

I’m just going off my own guesses/headcanons here. Going way back to SF4 and SF4 Ultra Edition, Balrog’s arcade ending, he saves an at the time, unnamed young boy that was a Shadaloo experiment. The young boy is 10 years old.

The boy that we then see in Balrog’s SFV arcade mode is Ed, who is (again, another guess) approximately 12 to 13. Then in Ed’s official roster debut in SFV Chamption Edition, he is about, give or take 18-19 years old. Keep in mind that Street Fighter has never had an underage character in the roster (that I know of because who knows what Capcom kept hidden in the past). Which brings us to Street Fighter 6, which takes place I’m gonna guess three to four years since Bison’s defeat. Which would make Ed in his early 20’s.

As for how he went from being tiny to being literally a foot taller than the some of the short people that love him? Growth spurt. Or… he just grew up.

Rapid aging does NOT stop at just making someone taller. Rapid aging would mean that Ed would be very unhealthy. Clearly, from how he looks, he is not unhealthy, nor does he have wrinkles all over, nor is he so stressed to the point of aging by a few decades (despite being constantly chased around by Shadaloo wannabes).

A minor detail, but in the character select screen when you go into Fighting Ground shows Ed clearly drinking beer. The legal drinking age in America is 21 (wow, look at me incorporating real life drinking age into my guesses and headcanons of a video game character lol), where Ed is mostly located in World Tour mode.

Also, back to Capcom… if Ed was underage, they would not make a body pillow of him as an April Fools Joke (look it up). Plus, Ed was intentionally designed to attracted more women to Street Fighter so him being in a revealing costume in SFV Champion Edition makes a bit of sense. And again, if Kimberly and Lily were underage, then they wouldn’t be wearing their default outfits.

You cannot look at Lily in Daisy Dukes and go, “oh yeah, she is still a kid.” In addition to that, Kimberly graduated high school, which would make her approximately 18-19, since the game states that she is a teenager, but she is not shown in high school, plus Kimberly would not be wearing revealing clothes either.

You also cannot look at Ed’s default design in SF6 and go, “oh, he’s probably much younger than he appears to be.” Dude, he’s walking around shirtless and he was literally designed to be a thirst trap to women. And it worked. I’m using this slutty M. Bison costume he had in SFV to prove a point here. It would be REALLY weird if Capcom made Ed younger than he looks but then they gave him this costume anyway.

Unless the ages of the characters come from the mouth of Capcom, I wouldn’t worry. Well, I still would not worry because Ed is literally pixels on a screen, so even if that were the case, it’s not like the creepy Taylor Lautner and Justin Bieber situations (if you know you know), because Ed is not a real person.

TL:DR, unless it comes from the mouth of Capcom, I’m not too worried about Ed and I will continue to say that he is in his early 20’s. Because ain’t no way Capcom is convincing us that Ed is younger than he looks when they clearly designed him to attract women (and possibly a few men).

sfv era ed was not 2-3 years old-

i'm sticking with the actual in-game dialogue because it makes more sense

[esther-dot]

It's really interesting how Ned didn't do anything to stop Lady's execution and carried the King's orders yet when it came to saving D@enerys life from execution , he defied his king on face , resigned and stormed off the court telling he won't participate in it .

I think we should read AGOT with the understanding that Jon is Rhaegar's son, a Targaryen, and that Ned, while against killing children, isn't taking this stance solely because it's moral. In addition to how morally abhorrent it is to kill children, he is personally traumatized by the idea of killing Targaryen children because he is raising one as his son, because he swore to his beloved sister to protect him, because one is his own blood and he is risking it all to protect him from such a fate. I mean, this line isn't just about Dany:

Ned knew better than to defy him when the wrath was on him. If the years had not quenched Robert's thirst for revenge, no words of his would help. "You can't get your hands on this one, can you?" he said quietly. (AGOT, Eddard II)

To me, his reaction to the plan is the culmination of his torment about his promise, lie, treason, and fear. The moment he quits as hand is the result of a book long effort to work him to that moment. Martin carefully built to that moment, and it makes so much sense when we look at how often Ned thought of Lyanna and imagine then how much he was thinking of Jon. 

I think we might even argue that Ned is torn up about his treason (of lying about Jon) and that as a result, it’s even harder for him to refuse Robert than if he hadn't been betraying Robert for a decade and a half. I think that brother relationship, the fact that this man is his king, the one he fought to place on the throne, that’s part of why he doesn’t fight harder for Lady. But it is a turning point in how Ned views Robert and as he sees him more accurately as he is (rather than was), he reaches the point where he refuses to cooperate.

Martin loves to compromise his characters and really enjoys the layers he can create, so while our initial emotional response is rage when Ned kills Lady, I think he wants us to think about all the factors at play because he doesn’t want perfectly clear lines. He wants it all very, very messy, almost impossible for characters to always be morally in the clear. Ned’s moral failure (in regard to Lady and Sansa) is meant to make him a more dynamic character, and the depths of his complexity is revealed with the revelation that he’s been lying/committing treason all along. 

Anyway, I agree that it's tragic Ned killed Lady, but that's part of the bigger discussion about what happens when justice is dictated by a king who isn't just. I don't think we're meant to conclude Ned could have just willy-nilly defied Robert even though he does quit later. Robert is the king, and the king's word is law:

"Robert, you cannot mean this," Ned protested.

The king was in no mood for more argument. "Enough, Ned, I will hear no more. A direwolf is a savage beast. Sooner or later it would have turned on your girl the same way the other did on my son. Get her a dog, she'll be happier for it." (AGOT, Eddard III)

There is no higher authority to appeal to, and Ned isn't free to just not obey without there being consequences. The king's orders will be carried out, and all Ned can do is take on the obligation himself, rather than allowing someone else to kill the direwolf. He can't save her. He could only honor her by doing the deed himself. He couldn’t save Dany either, he could only adhere to his principles by refusing to participate.

I think Martin wants to eliminate easy outs and make things painful for his characters, give them consequences for their decisions, so Lady’s death is a horrific thing, we’re meant to view it as a great tragedy, but also, to understand that Ned was trapped. 

[n1kolaiz]

The Six Realms

Okay, so I was pretty close to giving up on writing analyses but I'm back LMFAO plus I see we're close to 100 followers and I just want to thank you guys for being so very supportive <3

Alright, I'm not sure if anyone's ever written about this, but if an analysis like this exists, please do let me know because I'm kind of curious as to what other people think about this, too!

Remember that time Fukuchi spoke about bringing "about the five signs of an angel's death"?

I read a little bit more about it, and as a minor content warning: this analysis will focus on a few religious aspects (Buddhism + Hinduism). So if I get any of the facts wrong, firstly: I do not mean any disrespect to either religion, and secondly: please do correct me if I interpret anything in the wrong way.

Spoilers for BSD chapter 90 onwards + BEAST!AU under the cut!

So I'll start by talking about the Decay of Angels. As we all know, the members include Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Nikolai Gogol, Sigma, and Bram Stoker, and their leader, Fukuchi Ochi. After Fyodor's arrest, the Decay of Angels came into light with Nikolai murdering four government officials in a week. These murders symbolise the Buddhist cycle of existence, or otherwise known as samsara: the cycle of life, death, and rebirth.

"We are the Decay of Angels—hiding here as terrorists, a 'murder association', five people who will announce the demise of the celestial world."

Nikolai Gogol, chapter 57

Samsara is described to be a concept beyond human understanding. According to Hinduism, samsara is the physical world where every being has its soul trapped into a physical vessel. The Hindus believe that everything has a soul, and due to a soul's attachment to desire, it is forced into a deathless cycle of being born, dying, and reincarnating into a different body. In Buddhism, the ultimate way to break free from this cycle is by obtaining nirvana.

Nirvana is a Sanskrit word for the goal of the Buddhist path: enlightenment or awakening. In Pali, the language of some of the earliest Buddhist texts, the word is nibbana; in both languages it means "extinction" (like a lamp or flame) or "cessation." It refers to the extinction of greed, ill will, and delusion in the mind, the three poisons that perpetuate suffering. Nirvana is what the Buddha achieved on the night of his enlightenment: he became completely free from the three poisons. Everything he taught for the rest of his life was aimed at helping others to arrive at that same freedom.

- TRICYCLE'S definition of nirvana

As Fukuchi mentions in the panel above, there are six different realms of existence. These realms represent every possible state of existence, but one cannot live in a specific realm forever. Depending on whether or not one's past actions were morally good or bad, an individual is born into one of these realms. Basically, the controlling factor of which realm a person is born into is dependent on their respective karma. The realms are separated into two categories: the hellish ones and the heavenly ones.

The Deva Realm: where beings are rewarded for the good deeds they have done. This realm is void of anything unpleasant. It is basically paradise— empty of unfulfilled desires, any form of suffering, and fears of every kind. Religious individuals, however, do not seek to be born into this realm since its attitude is more or less carefree.

The Asura Realm: where demigods are admitted. Asuras are driven by greed and envy, and may come in conflict with human beings since they are quite similar. They are powerful beings, but quarrel with each other quite a bit, making this realm quite undesirable to be reborn into.

The Animal Realm: where beings are given the form of an animal (you probably guessed that lol). Individuals here don't actually have good karma to take pride in, but rather, they are born into this realm to work off their bad karma (by being slaughtered, hunted, or forced to work, etc). Being born into this realm forces one to atone for their past sins by living out their life as an animal.

The Hell Realm: where one is punished for their evil actions. The most merciless of realms, where one pays for their transgressions through pure suffering, methods of which include: dismemberment, starvation, and psychological/physical torture. However, once a person's term is fulfilled in this realm, they are presumably promised to be reborn into a higher state.

The Preta Realm: similar to the hell realm, in which beings pay for their past sins (specifically: greed and stinginess) by having to survive through hunger and thirst. This realm is also known as the 'ghost realm,' because some pretas are psychologically tortured by being forced to live in places their past selves have lived in. They are invisible to human beings living at that time, which pushes them to face the depths of despair and loneliness. Your typical horror movie, really.

The Human Realm: the only realm where one's actions determine their future. The status (social ranking, physical wellbeing, and so on) of a human being in this realm is determined by their past actions, but due to the fact that a person has their own conscience to differentiate good morals from bad, the actions they commit in this realm have the power to determine which realm they are sent to next.

Okay, so now that I've got that out of the way, let's shift our focus to the Book. Very little is known about the Book, but the basic fundamentals of how it works is that whatever is written in the book will come into existence only if its contents follow the rules of karma. In addition to that, only a few sentences can be written into a single page of the Book, and it must follow the current narrative of the story.

If I'm not wrong, the first time the Book was mentioned was by Fitzgerald, who wanted it to resurrect his deceased daughter in hopes of restoring his wife's mental health. The next time the Book is brought up is when Fyodor's intentions to possess it are divulged; his goal was to decimate the global population of ability-users. And now, the current arc has the Book as its central focus, with a single page in Fukuchi's possession.

[ BEAST!AU spoilers ]

The Book acts as the central point of multiverses, with each character's lives differing from universe to universe.

Dazai committing suicide in this alternate universe stands in sharp contrast with how he decided to start up a new life in the main universe.

Oda staying alive to act as a mentor to Akutagawa in the ADA differs from how Oda uses his death to prompt Dazai to "be on the side that saves people."

And of course, the way Atsushi and Akutagawa have their positions switched in the two universes depicts how different their lives would be if they were given the chance to be mentored by different people— these are just a few examples of how the Book houses an endless amount of possibilities.

[ end of BEAST!AU spoilers ]

Hypothetically speaking, this kind of reminds me of the differing realms I mentioned before, where suffering is promised in some realms, and better things are granted in the rest, depending on one's karma, or the deeds they've done in their past lives. In this scenario, perhaps one's past life can be understood as one's current life in a different universe. That's just a personal opinion though. Take it as you will.

side note: Keep in mind that the person who is more or less impervious to the Book's effect is Dazai, with his nullification ability. I wouldn't want to propose any theories in this aspect (I don't believe I'm fully fact-checked ;_;), but I could use Dazai as a raw example of how your choices affect your future. If Dazai had decided to stay in the Port Mafia after Oda's death, or if he even decided to go through with his suicidal fixations, life would've been different for him in the root universe (obviously, ryley) I mean, you could basically understand that from how he ended up in the BEAST au, but imagine if he really did slip up in his decision-making in any of the universes.

Many analysts have proposed that he went MIA (early in his life) from the main universe for a while to figure out how the BEAST universe worked, whilst having the Book to his advantage. Perhaps his actions were guided? I'm not saying he's all-knowing, but he's sure as hell smart. I'm not sure if Kafka was trying to highlight the concept of karma when it comes to Dazai, but if he is, then I suppose you could say that Dazai is pretty much unaffected by the rules of karma, existing as the centerpiece of all the multiverses. No Longer Human is the namesake of his ability, but the book talks about disqualification from societal norms and generally, the world. I was talking about it with a friend, and they reminded me that Yozo (the main protagonist) was pretty strong in his views against society. Like he didn't speak out of total defeat, he spoke out of defense. If there was anything Dazai actually lost to, it was his guilt— "Living itself is a source of sin."

Then again, that's my personal interpretation since everyone has their unique perspective of his writings. In terms of the actual adaptation, you could translate the word 'disqualification' to 'insusceptibilty' when if it came to the Book's effects on Dazai? This side note is becoming really long lmao anyways I'll link a few theories which afflicted me with brainrot down below.

Another thing before I wrap up, the name 'Decay of Angels' stemmed from Yukio Mishima's book entitled 'The Decay of An Angel.' This is the final novel to the author's tetralogy: 'The Sea of Fertility.' The main protagonist, Honda, meets a person he believes to be a reincarnation of his friend, Kiyoaki, who takes the form of a young teenage boy named Tōru. The last novel of this series enhances Mishima's dominant themes of the series as a whole:

the decay of courtly tradition in Japan

the essence and value of Buddhist philosophy and aesthetics

Mishima’s apocalyptic vision of the modern era

Again, this could be referred to what Fukuchi goes on to say:

Some people view the concept of samsara optimistically, justifying it by saying that perhaps each individual is given a second (third, fourth, fifth, who knows) chance to refine their actions in order to be birthed into a better realm, with their karma being the independent variable.

On the other hand, other people, specifically the Hindus, view the cycle of existence as some sort of plague. To them, the flow of life and being forced to endure the suffering of mere existence in any form was somewhat frowned down upon. Some Hindus viewed samsara as a trap. Besides, having one's soul being limited to a physical body for the rest of eternity was not very appealing, especially since where they ended up at depended on the karmic value their past actions surmounted.

Even so, particular types of Buddhists don't seek nirvana, but instead, like the Hindus, they make an effort to be good people of society, building up their good deeds to increase the likelihood of being reborn into one of the better realms.

As mentioned before, the Deva Realm was the home of angels, the most carefree, gratified beings to exist. Fukuchi describes these angels as the people who don't get their hands dirty, the people who act as the puppeteers of society: politicians.

In terms of parallels, angels were the most fortunate and powerful, but they didn't have anyone ruling over them. A lack of supervision would lead to the abuse of power, which is what I believe Fukuchi was referring to. Deeming himself the Decay of Angels, he sought to prove himself as the 'sign of death that falls on the nation's greed.'

A few fun facts (okay, not really) about Yukio Mishima: he committed seppuku (ritual suicide by disembowelment) on the day he held a speech to voice out his unpopular political beliefs to the public. Mishima deeply treasured traditions and opposed the modern mindset the nation was advancing forward to adapt eventually. In his last book, The Decay of an Angel, he spoke about the five signs which complete the death of an angel:

Here are the five greater signs: the once-immaculate robes are soiled, the flowers in the flowery crown fade and fall, sweat pours from the armpits, a fetid stench envelops the body, the angel is no longer happy in its proper place.

The Decay of an Angel, p.53

The reviews about this series I've read so far describe Mishima's works to be quite complex; his writings demanded a lot of time to deconstruct and understand. They were highly symbolic, and he was pretty obsessed with death and the 'spiritual barrenness of the modern world.' I think you could attach a few strings from here to the mindsets of the DOA members. Of course, this parallel is completely abstract, but I'll go on rambling anyway:

He should have armed them with the foreknowledge that would keep them from flinging themselves after their destinies, take away their wings, keep them from soaring, make them march in step with the crowd. The world does not approve of flying. Wings are dangerous weapons. They invite self-destruction before they can be used. If he had brought Isao to terms with the fools, then he could have pretended that he knew nothing of wings.

The Decay of an Angel, p.113

I suppose you could resonate Nikolai with that excerpt. As much as Fukuchi takes the lead in this whole murder association, I'd like to believe that each member of the DOA plays an equally interesting part in whatever movement they're trying to execute. Fyodor feels it is his god-sent purpose to cleanse the world of its sins, his motto being, "Let the hand of God guide you." Sigma doesn't know where he belongs, since his origination comes from a page in the Book, and is fueled by the desperation to find a reason to live. Bram holds one of the most powerful abilities which is counted to be one of the "Top Ten Calamities to Destroy the World."

What I mean to say is that the DOA members are incredibly powerful, and they're not your ordinary antagonists (or I'm just biased). It's not just overthrowing authorities, mass genocide, and world domination— you could say that each individual is trying to utilize their purposes to their fullest expenditures, and the way they're trying to assert their plan into action is a little more passive-aggressive (framing the Agency, having a convo with a suicidal dude in jail, etc). They're the gray area between evil and good. As they framed the good guys for their own crimes, they're trying to conquer the bad guys for exploiting the innocent as they please.

This post would definitely age well if all hell breaks loose in the current arc (as if it didn't) and Kafka doesn't give us a happy ending.

That's all I have to say for now I guess! Thank you for reading, and once again, if anyone else something they wanna share, feel free to do so <3

sources (tryna follow Q's example ^_^) :

the six realms

samsara

the decay of angels

beast!au

the book

the sea of fertility

yukio mishima

theory: dazai’s emotional/mental state in beast!au

q’s theory: dazai being the protector of the book

theory: beast!dazai and the book

[thelittlestancient]

FIC: From High Towers (2/5?)

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Characters: Elidibus, Warrior of Light (Sosomeni Tutumeni), G'raha Tia (in later parts) Rating: General Audiences Words: 693 Prompt: "How would that even work?"

Part 1

"How would that even work?" Sosomeni asked, ever curious about the workings of aetherology.  "You'd have to traverse the Rift, and you're bound, well, here.  How could you leave to do so, trapped as you are?"

"The crystal you brought with you--it is a small soul vessel, rather cramped for one such as myself, but under the circumstances it shall have to suffice," Elidibus said, gesturing to where it still sits, lodged in the controls of the Umbilicus.  "It will not take much effort to insert myself into it, though I pray, do not be alarmed by the process.  The din will be terrible, but there is no danger.

"When I am fully seated, you will be free to carry me where you wish, and may bear me back to the Source as easily as you bore the crystal itself here."

"And you want me to bring you to the Source's Crystal Tower instead of this one, which begs a question: if the Tower itself is so necessary to what you plan to do, why can't you simply do it here?"  Soso's question wasn't so much full of doubt as it was sheer thirst for knowledge; long had he wondered about how the Ascians had accomplished all they did, and the revelations about Amaurot and the world of the Ancients so far had only whetted his tongue.

"By way of--"  Elidibus shook his head.  "No, a more thorough explanation can wait until I have the time to give it.  Rather imagine, if you will, a mirror.  A small mirror reflects a small amount of light; a larger mirror reflects a larger amount of light.  So it is with aether.  While I am no longer capable of wielding the star's aether directly without Zodiark, I spent my youth studying the means by which I might use the star to reflect and refract my own aether, thus amplifying my power.  But my practice made use of the star as it was prior to the Sundering, of course; a single shard is comparatively small and fragile, and I must be extremely careful in the way I make use of it.  But the Source is several times rejoined, and thus it offers to me a much larger and sturdier surface to work with, greatly increasing what I am capable of.

"And while I cannot take on the aether of the star, by binding myself to the Crystal Tower, I can wield its aether as my own, with the result that I would become part of it in truth."

Sosomeni pondered for a moment, taking in all Elidibus said.  "...exactly as the Crystal Exarch himself had done, though perhaps for different reasons."

A nod of response.  "I am, as are all of my kind, effectively immortal.  As I said to you on our first meeting, there is no cessation, no oblivion--only expulsion.  I cannot be cast into the Aetherial Sea, into the Lifestream, save by my own desire to go there.  The Tower does not change that fact, and I will be no more bound to life there than I am here.  I remain free to choose the time and circumstances of my own death."

"Then you forgo the hope of freedom for a lifetime of imprisonment," Sosomeni said, having wilted somewhat at Elidibus' words.  "It seems like such a feeble bargain, in order to save the star."

Elidibus half-smiled at him.  "No greater imprisonment than it was to be bound up in Zodiark.  I shall have such power at my hands as few of my fellows in Amaurot ever dreamt of, without the necessity of having to mediate between the souls who comprised Him.  With so little to distract me, I intend to devote myself wholly to study and research, and by such even my understanding of aetherology might grow by leaps and bounds; the breadth and depth which I shall add to that of the sundered would seem to defy description.

"Now: draw the crystal out of there and set it in the middle of the floor, and then brace yourself.  I promise the Tower will not collapse around you, however much you may fear it."

<end of part 2>

Part 3

[flysafepapi]

Ok, you HAVE to write about Charlie, Meyer and Benny having tiktok! 😂😂

Benny discovering filters and memes..

Charlie losing his mind in a grocery store, laughing hysterically at the cost of everything because it's all he can do..

Meyer going cold turkey when he finds out how much he's expected to pay for cigarettes..

I HAVE A BUNCH OF TIKTOK RELATED HEADCANONS.

Benny’s TikTok is a mix of pranks (specifically aimed towards Charlie only but sometimes Meyer gets caught in the crossfire and those videos abruptly end because he’s running for his life), videos that switch from Meyer and Charlie being all adorable and shit to Benny just staring down the camera like “🙄 can you believe these two?” and weird rambling rants at 3am when he can’t sleep. Definitely follows true crime accounts, follows the messy TikTok tag because the boy loves watching other people’s drama.

Meyer insists that he’s not gonna make an account, but eventually does in secret just to see what all the fuss is about. He gets super into ASMR videos, and those videos that are people narrating Am I The Asshole posts from Reddit. He never posts any videos of himself, but has a few of Benny and Charlie arguing about stupid stuff, with captions like “I’m trying to work and this is what I have to deal with.” He gets a bunch of thirst follows for those videos and blocks every single one of them.

Charlie’s account is a real mix. He’s got a bit of everything. I definitely feel like he follows a whole bunch of food-related accounts, and always says he’s going to try the recipes out but never does. Also posts a lot of videos of Meyer doing random things, because literally everything Meyer does is amazing to him, so those videos are just essentially “This is my husband, isn’t he adorable, just look at him.”

Benny is absolutely in the comments of the videos, either the ones of Meyer that Charlie posts or the ones he posts when they’re being disgusting and couple-y, defending them viciously from homophobes, because I feel like his attitude is very “Hey, asshole, they might be gay and disgusting (that one’s for Charlie), but they’re MY friends and I’M the only one allowed to make fun of them so FUCK YOU.” There’s a lot of sibling energy, just “hey just because I’m mean to them doesn’t mean you’re allowed, back off.” He denies doing this if either of them bring it up, even though the evidence is right there.

Of course, Charlie’s videos heavily feature his dogs, there’s no other alternative. He develops a small following for all the dog fashion shoots he does, because I just know that man cannot stop himself from overspending on dog clothes from the internet. He does. There’s no convincing me otherwise. Benny stitches those videos just to heckle.

Also for your consideration: Meyer being aware that Benny and Charlie also have accounts, but he never asks what their usernames are because he’s sure that whatever they post is probably something he’s either not interested in or he’s just better off not seeing it for plausible deniability. It works for a while, until one of Charlie’s thirst trap videos come up on Meyer’s For You page. The argument that follows goes on for at least two hours. (Meyer still saves that video though)

[rosethornewrites]

Fics I read this week!

I started this right after posting the last one, so I’ll hopefully keep it up. A lot of the multichapter fics are ones I subscribed to that finished. A lot of the one-shots are under 5k words, with some being 100-word ficlets.

Finished:

Not Rated:

Wei Changze's weird day, by Weiyingbestboy

Wei Changze was minding his own business, when four potential time travellers dropped out of the sky. Literally.

Serenity Cave, by Anonymous

The travel home had been mostly silent. Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian competing for who could say the least amount of words.

Then, as they’d been walking along the mountain path, just a little past the gates of Cloud Recesses, a hole suddenly opened up in the ground beneath them and they fell into a small rock cave. Then the hole shrunk until it was barely big enough to poke a sword through. Just enough of a gap that they had a bit of light and wouldn’t suffocate, but definitely too small to escape through.

The earth had swallowed them.

…

In the middle of an argument, Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian get trapped in a cave.

In Which Lan Xichen Returns to the World, by AshurbanipalJones

Lan Xichen ends his isolation after the death of Jin Guangyao.

In Which Lan Qiren Requests an Audience, by AshurbanipalJones

Lan Qiren wants to discuss Important Matters with his nephew. His nephew is kinda not having it.

Mercy Meet Vengeance, by ShanaStoryteller (7th in a series)

The first time Wen Qing meets Wei Wuxian, she has a white sash around her waist.

Rated E:

Thirty-three Lashes, by Winglesss (20 chapters)

Yiling Laozu is dead. He's been dead for over a thousand years. For over a thousand years Lan Wangji has been wandering the world alone, helping where he's needed.

It's when he meets a mysterious cultivator and a strange curse starts to torment his body that the past and the present start to mingle, igniting emotions Lan Wangji almost forgot he was able to feel.

curiosity is the beginning, by everyearning (noctiphany)

He's just curious. Wangi's brother always said he had an insatiable thirst for knowledge. He also said it was going to get him in trouble one day.

Rated M:

devil from heaven, by incendir (3 chapters)

He would like to think that he knows what Lan Wangji could enjoy, if he’d let himself do so.

(or, wei wuxian's road to discovering lan wangji's yiling patriarch kink)

in this lifetime, by hauntedotamatone

Lan Wangji must reach him. There is still time. All he has to do is reach him. They’ll take A-Yuan and whoever remains and they’ll go as far and fast as they can. The world is vast, there must be a place for them somewhere, and if there is not, then he will carve one out from nothing if that is what it will take.

“Wei Ying!” he calls out to him over the roar of the flames and the familiar and terrible sounds of battle. At first, he thinks that Wei Ying is ignoring him or otherwise does not hear him. Then, his fingers still over his flute. He looks up with those empty eyes, unseeing. There is no hatred in them, but there is no affection or recognition either. There is nothing at all.

Lan Wangji has a terrible nightmare for the first time in years. For the first time in years, he does not wake up alone.

We Are Family, by Duochanfan (13 chapters)

Jiang Yanli heard the words spewing from Jin Zixun's mouth and said enough. After putting the man in his place she leaves the Hunt with her brother and Lan Wangji. The three come across Wen Qing, and with that simple meeting, they change what could have happened to something else entirely.

until it's time to see the light, I'll make my own with you each night, by backbones

His husband would never go back to sleep if he sensed something was wrong, and he always did. He knew him better than he knew himself, sometimes, and maybe that was why that feeling was so foreign it was horrifying. He wanted to keep that part of himself close, a well-kept secret, and now, deep down, he knew it was too late for that.

Or: After having a nightmare in a deep sleep, Wei Wuxian has a surprise visit from an old childhood habit.

Rated T:

Wei Wuxian Discovers Bisexuality, by arcaladiwoompa

AU where WWX decides he quite enjoys being passionately kissed against a tree by an unknown assailant and acts on it instead of just sitting there going herp derp I wonder who this very strong cultivator could possibly be.

Rescue, by WithBroomBefore (6 chapters)

Post-Sunshot fix-it AU featuring Jiang siblings taking care of each other, among other things.

Over the Rotted Bridge, by vailkagami (41 chapters)

Lan Wangji saves the Wen remants from execution but is killed in the process. The Yiling Patriarch loses himself in grief and rage and the determination to bring him back no matter what.

The world is not on his side in this. It is not on either of their sides when he succeeds. But The World is not all of its people, and some things can always be salvaged from the ruins.

Across, by vailkagami

An epilogue to the story "Over the Rotted Bridge", set in the far future. Cannot stand alone.

Centuries after the fall of the cultivation world, Wei Wuxian and Wangji return to the burial mounds for the last time.

Completion, by youjezebel

Lan Wangji misses raising A-Yuan. Wei Wuxian wants to be a father. In the end, everything works out perfectly.

Second Nephew, by vividneonmanias

"You need to stop talking to Wàngjī," Lan Xīchén told him, in the uncannily stern tones of a Sect Leader and not a nephew; "and preferably stop talking about him, if you cannot control yourself."

In the years following Wèi Wúxiàn's death, Lán Qǐrén learns to hold his tongue. But he still wants to know his second nephew. Some things need to be said; some questions need to be asked.

oceans, drowned in starfire, by stiltonbasket (10 chapters)

Lan Wangji breathes.

There is a tattered red ribbon trailing through the water beside him, and below him, a crooning, echoing song that clears his mind and stops him from struggling against the waves.

Lan Wangji breathes, and sleeps, and wakes again.

When he opens his eyes on the beach to find Huan-ge and Shufu crying over his body, he hears a lifeguard say that he was underwater for almost half an hour. ___

Tired of life in the business world, Lan Wangji returns to his mother’s old house to pursue a career as a novelist and search for the mysterious fisherman who rescued him after he nearly drowned on a whale-watching trip twenty years ago.

He wasn’t expecting much more than a quiet refuge to serve as inspiration for his work, and restore his spirits after half a lifetime spent in the city. But when a lost merbaby washes up on the beach in Caiyi, Lan Wangji realizes that his childhood savior might be closer than he thinks.

adding shadows to the walls of the cave, by Fleetling

It didn’t take Wei Wuxian long to see what he was pointing at, and as soon as he did, the smaller man turned back to face their juniors. “Cave!” he shouted across the thunder of the raindrops hitting the muddy path. “Hanguang-Jun found us a cave! We’ll stop to dry off, and head out again once the rain has stopped!” Beside him, Lan Wangji inclined his head in silent agreement. The bickering of the juniors cut out as they focused on making it the remaining short distance on the slippery ground.

They all huddled into the entrance of the cave, taking refuge from the rain, but waiting for directions before heading in.

Ouyang Zizhen ran his hand over the wall, feeling slight bumps and indents below his fingers. He brushed off the dirt, reading the characters revealed. “The lovers’ cave,” he read, shaking his head with a smile. Probably a local pair who came here occasionally. It was a bit romantic, when one thought of it. It also probably meant that the cave was safe - no lovers would hide away in a cave that contained resentful energy or other dangers.

Say It Until I Hear You, by DrowningByDegrees

Lan Zhan does not say what has him rattled, but neither does he retreat. He concedes by fractions, an embrace he does not shake off, a shaky sigh when his forehead comes to rest against Wei Wuxian’s collarbone, a wordless surrender when Wei Wuxian gathers him closer. Wei Wuxian doesn’t know precisely which ones, but there are ghosts in bed with them tonight, sorrow and regret and all the might have beens they cast aside so long ago.

Dull Comforts, by Just_Another_Mystery

Five times Làn Sīzhuī pondered the existence of a parent he does not remember having.

Downpour, by milesofheart

The way Wei Ying had looked at him…warily, expecting a fight, steeling himself for Lan Wangji to denounce him. Waiting for the worst from Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji’s heart cracked down the middle and his whole body shook as he wept now in the rain, the mud of Qiongqi Path seeping into his once-pristine robes.

on the importance of home (and all it implies), by nixtothou

The Burial Mounds are empty.

Wei Wuxian had expected this, yet for some reason it still hurt to see.

The Best Place to Study, by adrian_kres

Lan Zhan decides to study in the law library this time. He leaves with a boyfriend.

Rated G:

cadillac converter, by mdzsed

lan zhan's car starts making weird noises so he takes it to get it repaired. the new mechanic does not look like he knows what he's doing. good thing lan zhan is no fool.

or: lan zhan makes a complete idiot out of himself but hey, it scored him a date with a handsome mechanic so it's all good.

a small spark, by sebfish

It had started, as many things did, because Wen Qing was worried, and Wei Wuxian had learned early on that she wouldn’t budge until she’d gotten her way.

Winter in Cloud Recesses, by Sarehz

Winter in Cloud Recesses was cold. Really cold. It was a chill that penetrated Wei Wuxian's bones and reminded him of that period after his parents died when he shivered alone in the streets.

His Face, by AshayaTReldai

Among Su She's possessions was found a qiankun pouch containing a sheaf of sketches of Hanguang Jun, inspiring a lifetime's exchange between Wei Wuxian and his husband Lan Wangji, studies of his face.

anger, by theninjacat

Beloved Old Lines, by Preludian_Staves

A quiet Wuxian was a creature Qiren had learned to never trust in mixed company.

I Don't Wanna Fight Tonight, by Sarehz

Wei Wuxian was sitting on the roof. Again. It had become his go to place recently when he had to attend these sort of boring meetings where all the Sect Leader's met up and congratulated each other on defeating Wen Ruohan and blah blah blah.

Unexpected, by WithBroomBefore

It is not, from Lan Wangji’s perspective, an unpleasant kiss. He has no particular objection to kissing people, though admittedly he has only ever done so as a prelude to activities that involve various other bits of the body. And it is Wei Wuxian; nothing involving Wei Wuxian is awful. The kiss is...fine.

Modern AU, just some aroace/aro queerplatonic roommates finding the words.

An Accidental Clothes Thief, by Preludian_Staves

He should have probably realized what he'd accidentally done before starting work on a new talisman.

Groupie, by Speechless_since_1998

Being the manager of a band was hard work, but someone had to do it. And Lan Xichen was the only one able to keep members of his brother's band in line.

A Silver Thread, by DizziDreams

Lan Wangji is brushing Wei Ying's Hair before bed, when he sees it, glinting like a fish through the dark glassy waters of a deep pool:

A single, silver hair.

The sky is overcast and I'm sorry, by hamlets_ghost (8th part of a series)

Wangji's brother is gone once again.

A-niang explains.

Follow the sound of pipe, follow this song, by fairyprincess2

He took the last steps needed to reach the opening and there he was, black and red clothes flying with the wind, hair bound up in a ponytail with a red hair band. He was standing with his back facing Lan Wangji but it was him, he knew it was.

(In)Hindsight, it's obvious, by Potatoes_Radishes 

Lan Qiren woke up undisturbed, calm and refreshed, that was enough for him to immediately know something was odd, mainly due to the lack of noises during the night that made him suspect it, he grumbled away his frustrations regarding what he assumed would have been another prank as he got up to get dressed.

When he left the bathroom and moved outside, a very different set of robes awaited him, one he hadn’t worn in years. He finally took a notice of his surrounding, the room was different resembling the one from before their rebuilding, not caring about his state of undress as he open the door almost on the verge of panic, the first thing that rang out in the morning was a loud yell of “WEI WUXIAN!!!”

Unfinished:

Rated E:

taking over you, by sassybluee (3rd in a series)

Before, he’d once fantasized about giving in—shutting Wei Ying up with his lips, stilling his limbs with his own forehead ribbon. He imagined himself making demands. And then Wei Ying went missing. Wei Ying was presumed dead. And Wei Ying returned from the Burial Mounds. By then, Lan Wangji’s desires had long since cooled, and all that remained was longing. Longing to ease Wei Ying’s suffering. Longing to help him know he was not as alone as he seemed to feel. He would have gladly given him everything back then, if he knew how to ask for it. Would have surrendered his body to show him he cared.

And now?

_____

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian explore married life, and all that entails.

Rated M:

Keep Holding On, by abCEE

As they reached an inn and Wei Wuxian got them a room with three beds, the world seemed to have frozen for Jiang Yanli when her brother suddenly fainted and Jiang Wanyin was just fast enough to catch him before his body could hit the floor.

"A-Xian!"

"Wei Wuxian!"

In which after the Lotus Pier Massacre: Wei Wuxian was greatly injured by Zidian, Jiang Yanli left the inn to buy the medicines and food, and Jiang Wanyin distracted the Wens.

(With a bonus of Wei Wuxian knowing the title of the song and more things ensued inside the Xuanwu Cave that may or may have not involved Lan Wangji's forehead ribbon)

Canon diverged from there.

Sacrifices Made with Blood, by NocturnalFriend

Lan Wangji knew it was too late, there was too much blood on Wei Ying's hands already. Still, if he asked his brother for help, surely. There was a way to rescue the man who held his heart?

Or: Trust is not easily given and all to easily shattered. Lan Wangji learns this in the worst way, when Lan Xichen gives into the demands of the cultivation world. Although nobody could have predicted the whims of fate, giving them another chance at righting things.

lan jingyi vs. the laws of time itself, by agloeian (2nd in a series)

His kick has dislodged some stray fragments of Guanyin Temple's destroyed ceiling beams. Jingyi stares at them as he kneads his toes through his boot. They’re as red as the blood that stains the floor beneath him, sharp and splintering. Wind whistles through the wood and stone, though there’s a flickering too - the sound of paper fluttering in the breeze.

A talisman written in blood.

---

Lan Jingyi finds a way home.

Dream a little dream of me, by Moominmammashandbag

Lan WangJi braced himself.

“Wei Ying.” he said.

“You are not dreaming. This is real. You have been rescued.”

“The kissing bit comes first!” said Wei Wuxian impatiently.

“But…I cannot kiss you if you think you are dreaming!"

“I don’t see the logic in that.” said Wei Wuxian. “I obviously want you to kiss me or I wouldn’t be dreaming about it!

Rated T:

Love Song In Reverse, by timetoboldlygo

Wei Wuxian gasps back into life without a single memory left. His friends, his siblings, his home — all lost to the fog in his head, nothing more than a mystery slipping through his fingers. What else was there to do but carry himself around in bits and parts, trying to become whole, a letter waiting to be written? He is – he is Mo Xuanyu, isn’t he? In this body, with these people. This family. He has to be Mo Xuanyu, he didn’t know anything else, even if the name sounded wrong. That was all he had.

Well, that and Hanguang-jun.

Lan Wangji, for his part, has had his taste of love and lost it. In all his grieving and searching, he didn’t expect to find another.

-

Wei Wuxian gets resurrected, loses his memories, and falls in love.

Here We Go Again, by Alliandra

He looked over to where the swordswoman was still fighting, but her focus seemed entirely locked onto that fight so it was unlikely that she could have had anything to do with the energy drain. He was still wracking his brain for something else to do to assist, so this thing didn’t kill them both, but now he was feeling weak, dizzy and currently not far from helpless.

~~~~~~~~~~

It has been several months since the events at the Guanyin temple and Wei Wuxian is wandering around on his own. After he helps a stranger kill a very dangerous beast he uncovers what seems to be a conspiracy aimed at ending his life. He heads back to Cloud Recesses with his new companion in tow, looking to get Lan Wanji's help in working out what is involved.

Meanwhile, Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling made a surprising discovery under Koi Tower that may well be linked to the threat against Wei Wuxian's life.

Can they all work together to find out what is going on and put a stop to it, before something disastrous occurs?

A Teacher’s Oath, by MaelStromm

Deep down, only one thing really matters.

It is not being a good Lan, despite what the entire cultivation world may think, nor is it "sucking the fun out of life" as some disciple had once said.

More than anything, Lan Qiren is a good teacher.

Despite too many to count prejudices and the boy's chaotic behavior, he'll burn his ribbon before he lets this genius be wasted.

Or :

An AU where LQR gets along with WWX and somehow ends up having to deal with far too much drama.

I've Heard of Second Chances, but This Is Ridiculous, by velvet_green

One of Wei Wuxian’s experimental talisman arrays sends himself, his husband and his brother to that mythical land of long ago – the Gusu Lan lectures of their youth.

Wei Wuxian is amused. Lan Wangji is silent. Jiang Cheng is angry.

And their younger versions are mostly just very, very confused.

[howlingday]

Yang had traversed the wild wastes of Vacuo, overcame the deadly traps of Ozpin's ruined Beacon, and escaped Salem herself. Now, there was but one task left.

Adam: (Holding a small chest in his hand) Do you see now, Blake?! Do you see what your true love can do?! You threw away our love to be with humans, but I have slaughtered countless of those you once held dear! And now, even the Relic of Chance is mine! Would you have me challenge the Brothers themselves next?! (Looks behind him, Sees Yang approaching) You? (Turns away) Is this the best you can do, Blake?! Sending your broken stand-in to challenge me, the King of Faunus?!

Yang wrenched the chest from the prideful king's grasp and opened it for the first time since it's creation, and unleashed the full might of the Brothers themselves. Yang's flames billow both yellow and blue.

Adam: You're still only human; weak, cowardly, pathetic! The same as the night she begged me to spare you!

Yang: I'm not the same human you cut down that night. The monster you created has returned, and she will have her revenge.

Adam: You have no idea what a true monster is, human! (Horns protrude from his head as his teeth grow and sharpen, His body expands with muscle as he mask falls and shatters under his massive hooves) Your pitiful life ends tonight! Prepare to join Blake on the other side!

The battle between the Golden Beast and the Crimson King was fierce, pitting one's fury and thirst for vengeance against another's spite and hatred and desire for destruction. When Yang threw a punch, it was as though the Sun itself burned in the night. When Adam swung his blade, it was like the Moon descended to cut 'twixt the stars.

However, soon the berserker proved too much for the swordsman, so he unleashed a great and terrible magic upon her. With one quick motion, Adam tore a rift in the space between them, and it swallowed Yang inside. As she fell, she heard him speak to her.

Adam: You have learned many ways to kill a monster, human. Flesh that burns. Bones that crack. But to break one's spirit is to truly destroy them! I'm sure you recognize this night, human. The night it all changed. The night your weakness killed everything you loved.

The nightmares that had haunted Yang for years has now taken form and substance. Her failure lied just beyond the glass.

Yang: Get away from her!

Blake: Yang, no!

Yang: STOP! I WON'T LET YOU KILL HER AGAIN!

Swarms of Grimm, all shaped like Yang, surround both her and the visions forms. She rushed inside, through the glass, and made quick work of the Grimm that attacked Blake and her younger self, both of whom seemed frozen in time. With every monster slain, the battlefield shifted and parted, disintegrating into nothing.

The battle proved for naught, however, for as she punched the final the Grimm, it screamed like a woman. The woman who loved and trusted her. She looked down to see her arm embedded in the torso of Blake Belladonna.

Yang: (Sobbing) Why? You were innocent. You were all innocent.

Adam: Were they, though? She certainly wasn't. Do you know how much blood she had on her hands? How many lives she ruined with her selfish actions? Every death is on her head! Including yours! (Yang returns from the real world, Adam readies his sword) Which I will now take!

Yang: (Blinks, Sees a black sword embedded in the ground) ...Blake? (Rolls away from Adam's strike, Runs to Gambol Shroud)

But the battle was not over. It seems the Brothers had left one final gift for the girl.

Yang: (Swings Gambol Shroud a few times, Smiles) I'm not alone. I still have my friends. My family. And I'm gonna show you just how strong they make me.

For Yang, the battle continued with new purpose! With new vigor! Every swing of Adam's blade was missed as she dodged and parried, thrusting and slicing into him with each strike. When he clashed, he pushed against Yang, but she proved to be too much and overpowered him, earning a free strike across his chest, followed by a thrust, and a helm-splitting strike from above. His aura, once an unstoppable wall for her punches before, was now like paper with every slash of her blade.

Adam: (On one knee, Struggling to stand as he glares) Remember, human! Were it not for me, you would not have gained this strength! I gave you your strength; I saved you!

Yang: I haven't forgotten, Taurus. I remember exactly how you saved me that night.

Adam: That night... I made you into the perfect warrior!

Yang: Congratulations. (Stabs him in the heart, Slides it out)

Adam: (Bellows a death roar, Falls to the ground)

Yang had accomplished what many had thought impossible; a human had killed the Faunus King. Remnant had been saved, and would rise again.

The same, however, could not be said for Yang. She had sought assistance from many foes and allies alike, but none could truly heal what most ailed her.

Yang: ...Please, make me forget them. Make me forget that night I failed my team.

Salem: You have done well, child. Though we mourn the loss of another mortal, we thank you for ending his slaughter. The souls of your family and friends can rest easy knowing his death has been achieved, but we cannot erase the memory of that night. No power could ever force such a night from your memories, nor make you or us forgive them.

In the end, knowing the nightmares of her past would never leave her, Yang Xiao Long made her way to the top of Beacon tower, overlooking all the Brothers had created.

Yang: (On the edge of the tower, Looks down) The Brothers have abandoned me. Now... There is no hope. (Walks forward)

Yang had cast herself down from the highest point in all of Vale. After eight years of suffering, her nightmares would finally come to an end.

Death would be her escape from sorrow.

But Yang's fate was not as it had seemed. The Brothers had other plans. Feeling no impact, she opened her eyes to find herself floating, and suddenly rose higher into the vast sky, higher and higher until she could touch the stars. Until she could walk on the moon.

Salem: You will not die this night, Xiao Long. You have done the Brothers a great service, and thus should be rewarded, rather than punished. Adam was an unruly beast, a wild creature who sought only destruction and violence. A poor choice for the Faunus King, no? (A portal opens, Revealing a silver palace inside) But now the throne is empty, and a King must step forward to claim it. Embrace the portal, Yang Xiao Long, and become the new Faunus King.

Yang climbed through portal, the silver palace shining around her. As she climbed it's steps, her hands and feet became paws, and as she approached the throne, he teeth grew and became fangs. A tail grew from her tailbone, wrapping itself around her waist as she sat down.

Hail the human who became the King of the Faunus.

Hail, Yang Xiao Long.

[marvelousmaize]

stay safe for me

Note: for @weakforjaskier, one of the dearest people to me in this fandom, who requested that a worried Geralt take care of a sick or injured (i went with injured) Jaskier, and Jaskier is adorably confused about why the Witcher is so worried. A confession of feelings (and softness!) ensue. It’s all very sweet and fluffy with a dash of idiots in love. 

Melina, i hope you enjoy, and that this fic brings you as much happiness as seeing you on my dash brings me, my dear :) 

 It happens before Geralt can stop it. 

He and Jaskier are on the road, as they usually are, not a quarter of a day’s walk from the nearest Temerian village. Jaskier is strumming his lute, idly composing a song, and Geralt is walking just a few paces behind the bard, hand wrapped around Roach’s reigns, when they’re accosted by a group of bandits.

This isn’t an uncommon occurrence. But usually the bandits take one look at Geralt’s two swords and his golden eyes and his medallion, realize who they’re up against, and promptly take their leave. 

Evidently not these bandits. 

They’re in larger numbers, for one - Geralt counts ten - and seem quite determined to snatch up all their coin, which is a problem. It makes them foolhardy and reckless, and Geralt has to balance fending them off with keeping Roach and Jaskier safe. He sends the mare running ahead - he’s got every confidence he’ll find her again - but Jaskier, the idiot, stubbornly stays put, refusing to leave Geralt’s side. 

Geralt incapacitates seven of the bandits with relative ease. All non-fatal injuries (he still won’t kill humans if he can help it) and he’s nearly finished with the eighth when - 

“Geralt! Behind you!”

He’s been so caught up, the Witcher’s managed to miss one of the other two bandits ready to shove a sword straight through his lower back when Jaskier wedges himself between Geralt and the bandit, using the dagger he keeps at his hip to slice at the bandit’s shoulder.

But the bandit’s sword still manages to run through Jaskier’s side.

The bard crumples, and Geralt is briefly seized with raw, icy horror, before his vision bleeds red and white hot fury surges through him. He kills the remaining bandits without another thought, and takes special pleasure in ending the life of the one who dared injure Jaskier. 

Sheathing his steel sword, Geralt goes to the bard right away, kneeling beside him. “Jaskier,” he murmurs. 

Jaskier looks up. He’s pale, and obviously in pain, but he’s responsive. The blade must not have passed through any vital organs. Thank fuck.

“Geralt -” Jaskier gasps out, but Geralt quiets him with a look.

“Not now,” the Witcher murmurs. “We need to stop the bleeding.” 

Geralt makes a makeshift tourniquet with some of the bands of cotton he keeps in his pack, securing them with a tight knot, before gingerly scooping up Jaskier. 

He finds Roach just like he knew he would only a few meters ahead, and hoists himself and Jaskier up, riding out to the closest village. 

The next few hours are a blur - Roach is fast, and Geralt is able to find an inn with relative ease - and are spent tending to Jaskier’s wound. Jaskier is as talkative as he always is, propped up on the bed, and chest bare save for the bandages around his waist. Color has returned to his cheeks, and Geralt can concede that the wound will heal nicely - perhaps won’t even scar. 

It’s finally then that he allows himself to fully cede to the anger that has been steadily bubbling up in his chest. Anger tinged with worry and guilt, because Jaskier might have died because of Geralt and Geralt - 

Geralt doesn’t quite know how to deal with that. 

“You cannot put yourself between me and a blade, Jaskier,” Geralt hisses. “Do you understand?”

“Like hell I can’t. Geralt, you would have died!”

“Then I die.”

“That’s an unacceptable outcome to me and you know that.”

Geralt fights the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Why do you insist on being so stubborn and reckless -”

“Me? Reckless?” Jaskier cuts in with a disbelieving scoff. “You’re one to talk, diving headfirst into every battle without a single regard for your life or your safety. Do you know what it’s like watching you hunt your monsters knowing you could die?” and Jaskier’s voice goes so quiet, almost choked off as he speaks. It sends a sharp spike of icy guilt straight into Geralt’s heart. Then the bard juts his chin out; his gaze is steady, and he looks utterly defiant, the imbecile. “If putting myself between you and harm’s way is what keeps you from dying, I will make that choice every single time.”

“You’re a fool,” Geralt spits out around a throat packed tightly with wool. In his mind’s eye, all he sees is Jaskier, felled by fang or claw or sword. Face as white as snow, blue eyes vacant, vermillion blood tainting his clothes, coming out of his mouth, on his fingers - 

“Better I than you,” Jaskier says, and Geralt blinks away the images of the bard dead, dead, dead because of him, because he was too late. The Witcher’s mouth curls into a snarl. 

“I won’t let you.”

“I’d like to see you try. Honestly Geralt, I must confess that you are being extremely confusing right now. If the outcome is me only slightly injured or you dead, I don’t understand why -”

“Because I won’t have your blood on my hands, Jaskier!”

And Geralt’s carefully constructed exterior of calmness and detachment dissolves with his outburst. Undone by this idiotic, heedless, brave, loyal, unflinching bard without a sense of self-preservation, who sees the Witcher - with all his enhanced strength and swords and potions and magic - and sees someone worth protecting. 

Geralt grits his teeth, pushing through Jaskier’s momentary speechlessness, trying to ignore the bard’s quickening heartbeat and his wide blue eyes. “You are - you are -” but the words are stuck in his wool-packed throat, trapped, heavy and thick, on his tongue. His fingers are carving deep moons in his palm, his mouth twisting - helpless and infuriated. 

And Jaskier - 

Jaskier might be a fool, but Jaskier is also intrinsically brilliant - an academic, a poet with a thirst for knowledge, who is eloquent and can use words like another might wield a weapon. Jaskier, who understands the nuances of emotion and can articulate them - and his eyes go even wider with realization. “Oh.” His expression softens all at once, and it soothes and inflames Geralt all at once. 

“Geralt,” he murmurs, and he smells like honey and spun sugar, like fondness and happiness. “Say it first and I promise I’ll say it back.” Geralt’s gaze snaps up. He meets eyes as blue as the ocean, open and steady and so, so earnest. It sends hope and sunlight curling at the base of his spine. “But you have to say it first, so that I might let myself believe it’s true.”

It’s an admission filled with so much yearning and heartache that Geralt can taste them. There’s a thing with wings in his chest and he thinks it’s his heart, ready to fly out of his throat and give itself to Jaskier and Geralt wants that - wants it more than anything - wants it enough to -

“I love you,” Geralt says. “I can’t stand the idea of you getting hurt because of me.”

The smile on Jaskier’s face is blinding. “I love you too,” he says back. “And I won’t get hurt if you stop diving into things with a death wish.”

“Jaskier -”

“It’s a compromise, Witcher. You can compromise with me, can’t you? Please?”

And it is said so sweetly it pulls a grin out of Geralt that is equal-parts exasperated and fond - a mix of emotions he is no stranger to when it comes to Jaskier. “You’re impossible.”

“But you still love me,” Jaskier counters with a little quiet disbelief, but his smile is still so wide and his eyes glitter with mirth. “So just agree to this compromise Geralt, and come over here and kiss me already.”

Geralt chuckles, a low, rumbling thing that reverberates throughout his chest. “Well, when you put it that way,” he says wryly, and moves from the chair to sit himself on the bed. His huge, ungloved hand twines itself around the nape of Jaskier’s neck. Jaskier is watching him through hooded, hazy eyes, and Geralt picks up on the subtle quickening of the bard’s breath. “I agree, Jaskier.”

Jaskier licks his lips - an intoxicating movement Geralt traces with hungry eyes - and curls his fingers in locks of silver-white hair. “Oh good. Now -”

But Geralt doesn’t let him finish - though he strongly suspects he knows exactly what Jaskier is going to say - surging down instead and catching Jaskier’s lips into a searing kiss, all tongue and teeth and promise. Jaskier lets out a delightful whimper - confirms Geralt’s suspicions when even as their lips interlock, he mumbles a “finally,” and smiles into the kiss - responding with unabashed enthusiasm. 

The spun sugar smell gets stronger, and it’s mixed with something else, something warm and spicy and utterly intoxicating.

(I love you too)

Geralt smiles and deepens the kiss. 

[literaturechaos]

Skin

tw for discussions of body image, comparing yourself to others, etc

Sometimes I feel like my skin will split.

Rip from the seams to reveal my muscles, my blood and my veins. Open up to see pearly white bone, femur and fibula.

I can imagine the blood pouring from the opening, oozing down only to discover more of it’s kind as I am opened up.

“It’s what’s on the inside that counts.”

Have you ever noticed that only skinny people seem to spout that body positivity while stretch marks sprout from my fat and curl around my arms, my thighs, my hips, and my calves like ivy? Suffocating, dark, thick ivy.

One day my thighs will burst and I will no longer pretend that they are desirable. No longer will the words “thick thighs save lives”run around my brain as people retweet that “if your thighs touch then you are a mermaid”. They cannot “crush a watermelon” or even a man’s head. Never again will I be told that boys like something to grab, as the fat exposes itself and slinks down the bone into a slopping pile on the floor.

When the muscles hiding in my biceps leap out I will not pretend to be surprised that I am strong. I will not flex, nor will I shake my flab. No more comments about the “tiger stripes” that adorn me, the animal in the cage pacing to be let out of captivity. The attraction at the freak show as people throw unsubtle glances at the purple ribbons escaping my t-shirt sleeves. It will slough off, leaving me bare and exposed.

Vulnerability doesn’t come from tears and confessions. Sometimes it comes from heat, from the inescapable sun that forces you to strip back layers until you are scantily clad. You will be told to love your body by people who have never had a reason not to love theirs, people who have won the life lottery, people who will smile on Instagram with their bikinis and their slim teas. I could buy those teas, drink them until my thirst is quenched, but the hunger to feel beautiful will never be sated.

And I know that it won’t get better.

I look at past pictures and curse myself. I curse myself for not wearing that dress, not buying those trousers, not donning that crop top. I curse myself for beating myself up over a body that was beautiful. A body that helped me to dance and walk and run and laugh. A body that was not as small as my friends. But was smaller than I am now.

A body that I should have been proud of.

Will I be doing that again soon? Asking myself why I spent so long hating myself, why I clutch my stomach with the rage of a thousand soldiers, why I spend hour after hour with tears seeping out of my eyes as I ask myself why don’t I look like her? Will I be forever comparing myself? To my friends, to that girl I dislike. To that girl on the internet, or that girl on the street.

Once I have learnt to hate my body, how can I learn to love it?

Once I have had people point out my flaws to me until they are all I can see, how do I make them disappear? Once I can no longer believe compliments because I think they’re lying, how can I ever tell myself something in the mirror and truly believe it?

So many questions, so little answers.

When I have exhausted all options. What then? Will I accept that I am trapped in this body forever? Will I finally understand that I am destined to be taken less seriously, that my mind is diminished when my body looks so big?

Will I be able to reassure myself that someday I will be loved?

No.

I scroll through toxic body positivity for hours. Mixed message on mixed message. I like posts about fatphobia, sympathise with those who are shamed for their body. I see people complain about being told to eat a burger, claiming ‘skinny shaming’ and proceeding to call others fat. I watch videos titled “What I eat in a day by a fat girl who doesn’t give a fuck that she’s fat” and then see three consecutive bottle blondes doing the latest Chloe Ting workout challenge.

I line up those videos, and I think that I’m ready to do them. I sweat gallons but when I look in the mirror not an inch has budged.

My breath comes out in harsh gasps as I stagger my way through. My head fills with a lightness as I remember the message drilled into me since childhood, that this is my fault because I don’t exercise enough.

One day I will be free. When the fat pushes to the surface and rips me apart. When I stand exposed. Bone and muscle. Artery and organ. Blood and vein.

When I have been freed from having a body then I will be happy. When I can be seen for my mind, not my thighs, my lips, my stomach. When I can be seen for my creativity instead of the puff around my jaw. When they see me for my passion, not a body that they can use.

Then I will finally be me.

Sometimes I hope my skin will split.