berilaksl

[berilaksl]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

notes ! pure fluff, lovestruck! remus x reader and teasing from marauders.

warnings ! none really

Part I — The Library Chronicles

Golden rays filtered through tall, stained-glass windows of the library and stretched across the polished wooden tables and worn spines of ancient books, casting a sleepy calm over the castle’s scholarly heart.

At the far end of one row, James Potter and Sirius Black sat across from each other, quills in hand and faces lit with suspicious mischief as they pored over a stack of books titled “Charms of Illusions and Confounding Tricks” and “Advanced Magical Mishaps: A Guide.”

“I’m telling you, if we combine the Disillusionment Charm with a basic Muggle smoke bomb—” James started.

“—and maybe a hovering charm so the whole corridor looks like a foggy battlefield,” Sirius finished, practically vibrating in his seat.

Across from them, Remus Lupin was attempting to read Defensive Magical Theory, jaw tight and eyebrows pulled together like storm clouds.

“I don’t know why you two thought the library was the best place to brainstorm a full-blown prank,” Remus muttered, eyes flicking from his book to his parchment. “Some of us are trying to be productive.”

“Some of us,” Sirius said, cocking a brow, “are clearly just trying not to look over at the other table across from us again.”

Remus stilled, the tips of his ears reddening.

James smirked, setting his quill down dramatically. “It’s true. You’ve been glancing up every three minutes, mate. Do you want me to lend you my watch so you can time it better?”

“I am not—”

“—pining? Brooding? Suffering in scholarly silence?” Sirius grinned. “Remus, your tragic love story is happening live in the library and we’re the front-row audience.”

Remus groaned, pressing the heel of his palm against his temple. “You two are insufferable.”

Just a few tables down, you sat with Lily Evans and Mary Macdonald, parchment spread out in front of you as the three of you annotated your Transfiguration notes in neat, color-coded harmony. Well—at least you tried to.

Because every few moments, without meaning to, your gaze would flick upward. Always toward the same place. Always toward him.

Remus Lupin.

You weren’t even sure when it started. Perhaps in third year, when he’d helped you pick up a stack of books you’d dropped near the Herbology greenhouses, and you’d shared a laugh that made your cheeks ache. Or maybe it was during that Potions disaster in fifth year when the two of you had been paired together—pure chaos, but still, he’d looked at you like you were made of stars when you finally figured out the antidote.

He was clever, thoughtful, and ridiculously charming in that quietly sarcastic way that made your stomach twist. And Merlin help you—he had that broody, cardigan-wearing, chocolate-and-old-books energy that made your brain go fuzzy.

But he was also stubborn. Withdrawn. Hard to read when it mattered most. And you? You weren’t about to throw yourself at someone who clearly wasn’t going to make a move.

Even if you sort of—kind of—maybe wanted to.

“You’re staring again,” Lily whispered beside you, scribbling something into the margins of her parchment.

You blinked, suddenly caught. “I was not.”

“Darling,” Mary chimed in, barely glancing up, “you were practically burning a hole through his jumper.”

You flushed and tried to focus on your notes, scribbling a little too hard with your quill.

Back at the Marauders’ table, James leaned across to Sirius. “I’m giving him a week.”

“A week?” Sirius laughed. “You’re generous. I say three days before he finally admits he’s hopelessly in love with her.”

“Will you both shut up?” Remus hissed under his breath, flipping a page so aggressively it nearly tore. But then—

He looked up.

And your eyes met.

It was just a second. Two, maybe. But it felt like everything else in the library blurred out, like the quiet rustling of parchment and distant whispers turned into static. Your breath caught. So did his.

And then you blinked, and it was gone.

Remus dropped his gaze like he’d been hit with a Stunning Spell.

James let out a triumphant whistle. “I saw that! Moony, you romantic bastard.”

“I swear, if you say one more word—” Remus warned, but the heat creeping up his neck gave him away.

Across the room, Lily leaned toward you. “You’re really going to make him suffer like this forever, aren’t you?”

You bit back a smile, twirling your quill slowly. “He could talk to me, you know.”

Mary smirked. “So could you.”

You shrugged, lips twitching. “Where’s the fun in that?”

And he was, against all better judgment, completely ruined.

Meanwhile, you had noticed the glances too.

How could you not?

Every time you so much as flicked your gaze toward Remus, he looked away so fast you almost got whiplash. He was terribly bad at hiding it — which, truthfully, only made him more endearing.

You leaned toward Lily, whispering just loud enough for Mary to hear too.

“Think I should go over there and ask him if he’s lost something?”

Lily choked on a laugh, hiding it behind her hand.

Mary smirked.

“Oh, do it. Please. The poor boy’s about one compliment away from fainting.”

You shook your head, smiling into your parchment.

As much as you liked teasing him in your mind, the idea of confronting Remus Lupin — whose clever, tired smiles made your stomach somersault — was frankly terrifying.

Back at the boys’ table, Sirius and James were plotting.

“We need to do something,” Sirius said, stage-whispering. **“At this rate, he’ll pine himself into an early grave.”

James leaned in conspiratorially. “Operation: Push Moony Off The Ledge?”

“Brilliant.”

Remus caught the look exchanged between them and narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Who, us?” Sirius said innocently.

Before Remus could argue, James and Sirius had both loudly and obnoxiously dropped a very heavy tome on Remus’s half of the table, conveniently open to a page titled:

“Twelve Foolproof Ways To Impress The Witch of Your Dreams.”

Remus turned a shade of crimson that would’ve impressed a Weasley.

He slammed the book shut and hissed: “You absolute prats—”

And that was the exact moment he glanced up — and caught you looking at him, amused, eyes sparkling with barely hidden laughter.

He froze.

It was like someone had floored him. Like time slowed.

Your mouth curved into the faintest, teasing smile before you turned back to your friends, whispering something that made Lily snort into her sleeve.

Remus sat there, heart hammering against his ribs, quill forgotten entirely.

“Smooth,” Sirius said, voice vibrating with laughter. “Real smooth, Moony.”

“I hate you,” Remus muttered.

James patted his shoulder sympathetically.

“We’re doing this for your own good, mate. You’re hopeless.”

Meanwhile, across the library, Lily and Mary were also plotting.

“You have to do something,” Lily urged you. **“He looks like he’s going to pass out if you so much as wave at him.”

Mary added, grinning: “At this point, it’s cruelty to leave him hanging.”

You rolled your eyes, though warmth crept into your cheeks.

“Maybe after we finish this essay…”

(You both knew you wouldn’t wait that long.)

Across the library, two separate operations had been launched — each with the sole mission of pushing two stubborn people toward the inevitable.

And neither of you had a chance.

[berilaksl]

My Journey to Escape the War in Gaza

My name is Abdelmajed. I never imagined I’d be sharing my story like this, but life in Gaza has become unbearable. I am a survivor of the war here, and in the blink of an eye, everything I once knew—my home, my safety, my community—was ripped away from me.

The war has transformed Gaza into a graveyard of broken dreams. The buildings that once stood as symbols of life and resilience are now piles of rubble. Every corner is filled with the echoes of explosions. Every moment is shrouded in uncertainty. There is no security. There is no stability. There is no light at the end of the tunnel.

Basic needs have become luxuries. Food is scarce. Clean water is even scarcer. Hospitals are overwhelmed and under-resourced, and there is almost no medical care to be found. Every night, families go to bed hungry, praying they’ll wake up to see another day. The cost of basic necessities has skyrocketed, and it’s become a daily battle just to survive.

I’ve seen things I never thought possible—standing in long lines for a piece of bread, rationing every drop of water, and watching my people suffer in silence. I have lost everything—my home, my safety, my dignity.

Escape from Gaza is my only hope, but it’s almost impossible without financial help. The cost of evacuation is far beyond my means, and without support, I’m trapped in a warzone with no way out.

I’m reaching out to you now, in the hopes that someone, anyone, can help. I am not asking for luxury. I am asking for a chance—just a chance—to live. A chance to escape this never-ending cycle of fear, destruction, and loss. A chance to rebuild my life somewhere safe, where I can begin again, where I can find hope once more.

Any amount you can give will help me get closer to safety. Even the smallest donation will make a difference—it could be the lifeline I need to survive. If you are unable to donate, please share my story. The more people who hear it, the better the chance that I can find the support I desperately need.

Your kindness and support mean the world to me. You’re not just helping me escape a war; you’re giving me a chance to live, to rebuild, to breathe again.

Thank you for listening. Thank you for caring.

Vetted by @gazavetters

[berilaksl]

MARAUDERS MASTERLIST⋆˚꩜｡

SIRIUS ORION BLACK ⋆｡°✩

— effort of an dog

— can’t take my eyes off you

more coming very soon !

REMUS JOHN LUPIN ⋆˚꩜｡

— hidden words between glances

more coming very soon !

JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

more coming very soon !

[berilaksl]

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

notes ! sirius black x f!reader, fluffy and might be slightly witty

warnings ! none yet whipped sirius I guess?? fluff slightly suggestive

The Hogwarts library was unusually quiet for a Wednesday afternoon, though the distant tapping of enchanted quills and the occasional sneeze from the dust-riddled stacks kept it from being entirely silent. The smell of parchment and ancient ink mingled in the air like perfume—comforting to some, suffocating to others.

You sat cross-legged at your usual corner table, the one tucked beneath the arching stained-glass window overlooking the Black Lake. Your fingers delicately flipped a page of “Runes of the North: Decoding Pre-Wand Magic”, your brow furrowed in concentration. A soft hum of your favorite self-soothing melody left your lips. Your eyes danced across the worn text with intense focus, every now and then mouthing a translation to yourself

So, of course, this was exactly when he decided to strike.

“So this is where the cleverest student in the castle hides…”

You sighed. Not again.

“Hello, Black,” you replied, not looking up. “If I stay very still, maybe you’ll think I’m a statue and leave.”

Sirius let out a bark of laughter — low and amused — and walked around the table to sit across from you, sliding into the chair like he belonged there.

“Tempting, but I’m far too enchanted. I’d probably end up serenading the statue.”

“Do it and I’ll Petrify you for real.”

“Kinky.”

You gave him a flat look, lifting your eyes just long enough to scowl. He gave you a grin that could melt chocolate frogs.

“You’ve really got to stop chasing me around the castle like this,” you said, calmly returning to your runes textbook. “It’s starting to look desperate.”

“Says the girl who hasn’t accepted a single one of my five — no, wait — six date proposals.”

“Exactly. You’d think you’d take the hint.”

“And miss out on the slow burn enemies-to-lovers arc we’ve got going on?” he quipped, leaning back in the chair and watching you with open amusement. “It’s practically Hogwarts folklore now.”

You blinked slowly. “We’re not enemies.”

“And yet you stab me with words like that.”

“Sirius.”

“Yes, love?”

You pointed your quill at him, exasperated and flustered. “Stop calling me that.”

“Make me.”

You gave him a long stare, then slowly turned back to your notes. “You’re unbearable.”

“And yet,” he said, voice dropping just a little as he rested his chin on his folded arms, “you never hex me. Which tells me you’re at least slightly fond of me.”

“No, it tells you I have self-control.”

Sirius chuckled. The warmth of it settled somewhere beneath your ribs, annoying and persistent.

For a while, he was quiet. Just… sitting there. Not fidgeting, not whistling, not pushing further. Just watching your quill glide across the page, occasionally glancing at your brows when they furrowed in thought.

And that — the silence — was somehow worse.

You looked up suspiciously.

“Are you actually being quiet right now?”

“I’m behaving,” he said, straight-faced. “Remus told me to try it. Said it might make me more appealing.”

You snorted despite yourself.

“He also said,” Sirius added with a mock-thoughtful tone, “that my charm was wasted on someone who values peace, intellect, and academic rigor above all else.”

“Sounds like he knows me better than you do.”

“Unlikely.” He tilted his head. “I know, for instance, that you bite your lip when you’re trying to remember a translation. That you tap your quill three times before committing anything to ink. And that you smell like old parchment and something floral — lavender, maybe?”

You blinked. For a moment, your heart jumped.

Then:

“So you’re stalking me now?”

“Only academically.” He smirked. “Genuine curiosity. I’ve caught it.”

You tried — really tried — not to laugh. But the twitch at the corner of your mouth betrayed you.

And he saw it. He always saw it.

“There it is,” he said, sitting up straight like he’d just won a prize. “The smile. My favorite subject.”

You exhaled, setting your quill down. “Sirius, for the last time—”

“You’re not going to date me. Yes, I know.”

He stood then, brushing invisible lint from his sleeves with a dramatic sigh.

“But I reserve the right to be hopelessly enchanted and incredibly annoying about it.”

Before he turned to go, he added, without looking back:

“See you tomorrow, same table. I’ll bring you tea this time.”

You blinked after him, stunned by the combination of chaos and charm he always left in his wake. Your friends often teased that you were unshakeable — that you could hold your ground against even a Veela’s pull.

But Sirius Black?

He was going to be trouble.

Big, grey-eyed, endlessly smiling trouble.

[berilaksl]

PERCY JACKSON MASTERLIST ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

PERCY JACKSON ⋆˚꩜｡

- jealousy

more coming soon !

JASON GRACE ⋆˚✿˖°

more coming soon !

LEO VALDEZ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

more coming soon !

CONNOR STOLL ✮⋆˙

more coming soon !

[berilaksl]

omg percy with a jealous girlfriend and she tries to dom him for once but she can’t and he takes over

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

warnings : only a make out scene nothing much !

notes ! ALL AGED UP! i couldn’t help but think of a smut scene right now but the first thing that came up to my mind was this maybe another time I can write it with the same thing! (THANKS FOR THE IDEA THOUGH🫶🏻)

Fuming and fussing about a so called “useless” topic all afternoon was not expected but still it did happened.

Not in an over-the-top, steam-blowing-from-your-ears kind of way, but in the quietly possessive yet stomach twisting , “don’t make me act up” kind of way.

It had started earlier at dinner. The evening went pretty well as the Some daughter of Aphrodite had gotten a little too touchy with Percy, laughing a little too hard at his jokes, her hand resting way too long on his arm. And Percy—being his usual dumb, flirty self—had just smiled like an idiot and let it happen. It wasn’t harmless for sure you thought but deep down it’s the bottom of your heart and the thoughts that ran over your head wasn’t telling the same thing.

So time passed by pretty long especially the walk to Percy’s cabin to atleast confront him about it , you sit on the edge of his soft bed with wrinkled sheets, arms crossed, legs swinging, plotting.

The door creaks open softly, and you hear the wet patter of bare feet against the wooden floor before you see him.

Percy Jackson enters the room like he has all the time in the world, completely unaware—or maybe purposely ignorant—of the thundercloud brewing in your expression. His damp swim trunks cling low on his hips, water trailing in slow rivulets down his chest, carving a glistening path over toned muscle and soft freckles you’ve kissed a hundred times.

His dark hair is a messy halo of wet curls, dripping slightly onto his shoulders. A orange Camp Half-Blood shirt clings tightly to his torso, half transparent with how soaked it is, leaving little to the imagination. It rides up just a bit at the hem, flashing a sliver of his v-line that makes your mouth go dry despite yourself.

And he’s smiling. Of course, he is. That lazy, easygoing grin that he knows drives you crazy.

He shrugs the towel off his shoulders, ruffling his hair casually before his eyes finally land on you, seated at the edge of his bed, arms crossed, legs swinging, and jaw locked.

“Hey, sweet girl,” he says, voice soft, familiar, and smooth like sea glass. “How was your day?”

His tone is light, like he hasn’t just come back from entertaining an Aphrodite camper with that same smile he’s wearing now. His eyes linger on your face, searching yours with that boyish curiosity that should be endearing but right now feels infuriatingly cocky.

You stare at him. He stares back.

There’s a beat of silence.

Then, flatly—without so much as a blink—you say:

“Have fun?”

The smile falters just slightly at the corners of his mouth. Not enough for anyone else to notice. But you do. His weight shifts from one foot to the other, towel now hanging from his hand as he tilts his head, blinking like he’s still playing innocent.

“Fun?” he echoes, voice dipped in amusement. “What, the swim?”

You give him a slow, withering once-over. “Sure. Let’s call it that.”

He looks up, towel draped around his neck, a stupid grin already playing on his lips. “Mm, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound a little jealous, sweet girl.”

You scoff. “Jealous? Of her? Please.”

“Oh?” he tilts his head, stepping between your knees. “So you didn’t glare at her like you were ready to drown her in the lake?”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the way his wet curls are clinging to his temples. “You liked the attention.”

Percy hums, leaning down to press a kiss to your jaw. “Only like yours.”

That makes your chest flutter—ugh, annoying. You steel yourself, hands pushing lightly at his chest. “Lie down.”

He blinks. “Huh?”

“I said,” you repeat, pushing again, “Lie. Down.”

He raises a brow, clearly amused, but doesn’t argue. He throws himself back onto the bed, hands behind his head like he’s waiting to be entertained.

You crawl over him, straddling his hips, trying to ignore the way your stomach flips at the control. You trail your fingers up his chest slowly, teasing.

“Mm, you’re getting bold, huh?” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded, lips twitching. “Look at you trying to be in charge. Should I be scared?”

“Maybe,” you whisper, leaning down to nip at his throat.

He lets out a breathy laugh, hands still behind his head, letting you explore. But just as you start to grind down slightly, his grip snaps to your hips—tight, firm, and all too confident.

“You’re cute when you try,” he murmurs, flipping you with barely any effort. Your back hits the mattress and he’s suddenly over you, smirking down with that infuriating, all-knowing glint in his sea-green eyes. “But we both know how this ends.”

“Percy—”

“Hush.” His voice drops, low and velvet-smooth. One hand pins your wrists above your head while the other traces slow, maddening circles on the inside of your thigh. “You really thought you could top me, sweet girl?”

You arch your back in response, trying to regain some control, but his hand grips your chin gently, forcing you to look at him.

“Eyes on me.” His voice softens. “Don’t pout now—you know I love when you try.”

Your breath hitches as his fingers trail up beneath your shirt, dragging across your skin with purpose. He leans down, brushing his lips against your neck—light, feather-soft—until he reaches that one spot that always makes your breath catch.

“There,” he whispers, kissing it again. “Right here, huh? That little spot you melt for?”

You squirm, trying to close your thighs, but he’s already settling between them, warm and heavy and maddening.

His kisses trail lower, dipping beneath the neckline of your shirt. He doesn’t rush. That’s the worst part. He takes his sweet, agonizing time. You can feel his smile against your skin every time you shiver.

“Smell like vanilla,” he murmurs, nosing along your collarbone. “New body wash?”

“They were out of strawberry,” you mumble.

He chuckles. “I liked being your body wash better.”

“Percy—”

“Mm, sweet girl,” he breathes, lifting his head to meet your gaze again. “Look at you. So tense. What’s got you all worked up? Hm?”

You glare up at him, flushed and breathless, lips parted with anticipation you can’t hide.

“You,” you muttered. “You and your—your smug face and your stupid Aphrodite fan club—”

He kisses you, full and slow, stealing the rest of your sentence.

“My smug face, huh?” he mumbles against your lips, tongue slipping in just enough to make you gasp. “Guess you’ll just have to put up with it, sweetheart.”

His hand slips between your thighs and you jolt, hips rising instinctively.

“Still wanna be in charge?” he teases.

You shake your head.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “Let me take care of you.”

He makes good on the promise. Every stroke, every kiss, every breath is deliberate. He knows your body too well—knows what makes you twitch, what makes you moan, what makes you beg.

And he loves to hear you beg.

“Say it,” he breathes against your skin.

“Percy—”

“Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp. “Always yours.”

That earns you a deep groan, his lips crashing into yours as he drags you closer, until there’s no space left between you. The world blurs around the edges—only Percy remains: his scent, his voice, his warmth.

You don’t even remember what had you so jealous in the first place.

[berilaksl]

RULES/REQUESTS ᡣ𐭩 ｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

RULES 𓂃۶ৎ

⋆˚࿔ I write fics or any kind of work that is fluff,angst,smut or any kind that goes with a trope etc.

⋆˚࿔ be nice and kind! remember this is a social place.

⋆˚࿔ if you are a minor and reading any kind of smut that I have written on my page read it at your own risk but I’ll recommend you to read when you are 18+

⋆˚࿔ do not copy,steal or translate any of my work that I will write or have written. I’m not comfortable with any of that and I don’t give any permission to do so.

⋆˚࿔ my request box is not just for “requesting” you can also sway your way through there and just talk with me too!

⋆˚࿔ it’s completely fine by asking questions it’s just that ask your questions respectfully !

REQUESTING RULES 𖦹°. ᵎᵎ

⋆˚࿔ please be kind! I would never want any people to be too rude or offensive against anything. If you are your ask will be deleted.

⋆˚࿔ I can go with any trope or au! in both my fics,drabbles and even my own series.

⋆˚࿔ since I also write smut there are things that I can write and can’t write

specific things that I can’t write:

self-harm,incest,religious themes, professor x reader, big age gaps, shy/innocent/childish reader, pet play,age play, child!reader,sibling!reader,drugging and piss kink.⠀⠀

⋆˚࿔ I would appreciate if you respected my boundaries!

⋆˚࿔ I would love you to be specific when asking a request because if you are not I will go with it how I imagine.

[berilaksl]

MASTERLIST ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

the library

welcome, darling. step inside—easy now, watch your footing. quiet steps, curious eyes… you’ve come searching, haven’t you? sweet soul, you’ve found the right place. come, let me show you names tucked into waiting pages, aching for your touch. no need to hurry. stay as long as you like. they’re all here, just for you.

― specialized works/series

― the marauders

― harry potter

― percy jackson and the olympians

― hunger games

― the arcana

― the inheritance games

see you soon, love. the stories will be waiting. ⋆˚✿˖°

[berilaksl]

NAVIGATION 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚.ᐟ

␥ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ beril ୨ৎ⭑.ᐟ she/her. turkish .⠀libra moon.࣪⠀scorpio sun and rising.⠀hopeless romantic. literature girlie. drowned in long lost poems.⠀a poet in another life, a dreamer in this one. sirius black and marlene mckinnon kinnie . a loud voice for the people who can’t speak.⠀

MASTERLIST ᥫ᭡.

ABOUT ME ! ✮⋆˙

RULES ! ⋆˙

[berilaksl]

'so... you're cabin 7?' yes, sir, cabin 7

my ver. 🗣️

[berilaksl]

MOLDED TILL BLIND

I finally came to realise that life could be both harsh and unfair. Especially unfair since you open your eyes to a world and a life that you are basically forced to live or endure until you spare the very last breath before you lay down in your death bed. By the word "harsh" it comes with different meanings and definitions if you ask me. Which is because all of us have unfortunate or even unexpected differences between our experiences,thoughts or even how we react with actions and words. That's the reason we carry and hold diverse meanings in the words that we collect then proceed to put and gather them all up like a puzzle to express our feelings that we may hide ,the thoughts that basically rots inside of our mind just because we trap them up there or the words that we may want to scream on top of our lungs but only stucks inside of our throat.

However expressing ourself isn't limited by using our voice. Sometimes it can be understandable by just scribbles on a paper, Ink droplets on a old parchment, A faint brush on a canvas or even a pair of glassy eyes that bear a resemblance to beautiful silver mirrors that reflect's a person's bottled up emotions and delicate mind that recently broke into pieces like just a mirror.

It's also non-negotiable that the way we look,compare or even judge certain things are total opposites like disparately carved wooden trinkets or non-identical finger prints since we are not BORN or MOLDED the same way.

Nevertheless i suppose some people have big problems accepting that everybody has different reflections on a mirror whether it's broken or not. Big enough that they try to break an artist's brush and destroy their art and replacing it with a object that they dont know how to use and a so called "dream" or a PATH they need to take to continue even though they have no idea how to walk there.

A writer's pen,hand or mind broken really bad enough by force that they are afraid to write when it's maybe the only thing that keeps them alive and well to keep going. A actor's costume or mask torn off and ripped till it's not possible to use it again for a play even though it's maybe a part of their personality and identity that keeps them together.

Furthermore, They never refuse to MOLD a unique identity into a system chosen one that they are limited to think,feel or talk in thier own way. The system doesn't care about the musician's melody and tune that they use to show their true emotions that they hide behind the strings or instrument keys till their instrument was no longer to use like how it was before. The system doesn't care about a dancer or a ballet even if they ignore and neglect their own health and welness of their bodies just to fit into a tight corset that slowly cages their own ribs until it's impossible to breathe yet The system continues to ignore the reality of it.

Destroying people and taking away their own passion that keeps them alive and heart functioning was never complicated for The system since they don't care. Who cares? If a artist can create literal masterpiece's but can't understand math in one bit. Who cares? If a musician can compose a song but can't understand psyhics and how it works. Who cares? If a future scientist can achive succession in their own course or area of specialty but can't remember certain timelines in history.

However The system will try to stop and prevent to do those no matter what whether it's 12 days or decades later yet the people will never rightfully stop or drop their passion and desire to pursue their specialties to contiune their lives. What if The system puts barricades infront of their dream? The people will break the limitations just like The system tried to break them. What if The system will try to guide the people to another path? The people will ignore The system''s opinions just like they neglected their's. What if The system will MOLD US UNTIL WE GO BLIND? I guess The people will rather to accept death than to nod their heads to The system' order.

-V.B.A