#am correct in knowing the meaning of that

[neonaurore]

even IF intersex people were that rare imagine if someone came up to you and told you that they have a very rare horrible illness (I am NOT equating intersex people to illnesses, just talking about a severe theoretical) that nobody else has and is unique to them and they need help with specific problems. and then imagine looking at them dead in the eye and saying "well, nobody else deals with your problems so do they really matter or count? we could use this attention and resources for so many other illnesses, you know, you're just a statistical anomaly"

it doesn't matter how rare someone is if they're still suffering. it doesn't matter that a "very small number" of people get corrective surgery against their will and often kept secret from the parents. it doesn't matter how "few" people suffer from seeing their experiences and life misrepresented and seeing themselves as othered and be treated like a freak. everyone matters when they're suffering.

and then when you realize just how many intersex people there really are, that should make it hit harder how prevalent this is.

this is the same logic used to deny all marginalized groups honesty, representation and advocacy. I've seen it for gay men, for lesbians, for trans people, for disabled people, immigrants, ethnic minorities, so on--"they're such a small group it doesn't matter!" when what it really means is "I'm not affected in daily life so it doesn't affect ME." and at that point you've tipped your hand as to what you really think.

i love when intersex people try to talk about our issues people try to hit us with a "that doesn't count, that would be like 0.01% of the population you're talking about," ahh response, which I have personally received several times at this point.

everyone loves to be confident to pull some bullshit statistic out of their ass to be dismissive, but it's funny because they never do a second of research. the United Nations Human Rights Office estimates 1.7% of the population are born intersex:

even if the numbers were any lower, it would still be worth talking about intersex issues. any amount of people with these experiences are worth representing and discussing. we should not have to be invisible because our conditions are so stigmatized that many of us receive "Corrective" procedures just after birth, during childhood, or puberty. so many of us are swept under the rug, that's part of the reason why the statistics vary depending on which area is reporting the statistics.

you can't weaponize how marginalized someone is against them. if we fight for people with the most specific gender identities that can't be easily explained in one or two words, we must include intersex people. if we include people who use unique pronouns not seen in current common vernacular, we must support intersex people. if we support other queer minorities, we must support intersex people.

it's not an option. you can act like we are a statistic on a page, a number you can't possibly fathom in your mind, but we are all around you. everywhere. existing in real time. we are not fossils. we are not extinct.

you don't have the pleasure of ignoring us anymore. intersex rights are human rights, and sometimes, they're queer rights, too.

[yuurei20]

how muscle is the boy and who the most buff because i think silver gym clothes is lying

Hello hello! Thank you so much for this question! I have been hoping to talk about this for so long ⚔️

There is something special about the school uniform and gym clothes cards 👀

Summary 1) Sprites do not always visually represent what is actually happening in the game 2) Yana does not have full control over what can appear as sprites 3) Yana illustrated the gym clothes and school uniform cards from start to finish by herself!

Details/Sources 1) There is sometimes a disconnect between what the sprites are doing and what is actually happening in the stories, as the limits of the medium mean that they can only portray so much.

We will be told via dialogue that what is actually happening is different from what we're seeing on screen, which is where the "novel" part of "visual novel" has to do some heavy lifting.

(above: We are told that Idia is riding Ortho, Jack has tanned and Kalim is wearing glasses, without anything represented visually.)

This is also true of Silver being unusually well-muscled, with characters referencing such repeatedly! (especially in Book 7, for spoiler-reasons that cannot be shared on this blog)

(Ortho: "Silver is also incredibly built!")

In a vignette Silver explains he was able to beat a man in an arm-wrestling contest who had successfully beaten several "burly" members of Savanaclaw:

"All of Ruggie's burly friends had tried, but each lost within seconds. At first the owner went easy on me. Worried he would hurt me, he said. But once he realized I was no pushover, he stopped holding back...It was no easy feat, but all their encouragement helped me eke out a victory."

As for how Silver can possibly be so well-muscled, he explains it is from life with Lilia:

"I've never really struggled with anything involving physical fitness...my daily life back home was training enough. Drawing river water, chopping firewood...Chasing around the animals who lived nearby must have helped strengthen my legs as well...once I stalled while climbing a sheer cliff, and (Lilia) climbed right up beside me to show me how it should be done."

2) In a tweet posted on 2020/5/12 Yana talks about submitting her idea for Crowley to be wearing a vacation outfit in Book 4, despite expecting it to be rejected.

So it seems that she does not have complete control over how the sprites look: she designs the characters but is maybe not doing the game development work of physically implementing them, and there are others who can approve of or reject her ideas based on in-game limitations.

Was a canon-accurate Silver sprite maybe one of those rejections?

Effort was even made to give Silver muscle in the 2nd anniversary PV, so it does seem to be an important point.

3) We do not know too many details about the team that is helping Yana with card illustrations but we know they have been there from the beginning, with the recently released English-version of the first visual book (called "The official art book" in English) providing translations of Yana's notes to the colorists for the ceremonial robes and labwear art.

(Above: hand-written notes seen on Kalim's labwear and ceremonial robes base art)

She also references a graphic artist in her 2020 interview for the Magical Archives:

"As for the illustrations, this was my first time having my original drawings cleaned up by a graphic artist. I am a very rough draftsman by nature, and I make overall corrections before a piece is complete. No matter how careful I am in my original drawings, sometimes details get confused, so whenever I receive a draft back from the graphic artist, I become a useless original artist who is constantly going back to say, ‘I am so sorry, but can you please make these corrections?’" - Toboso Yana (Magical Archives game guide)

But the gym clothes and school uniforms (the original batch of R cards) were different: Yana says she did them all by herself from start to finish, as they were going to be most people's first introductions to the characters.

Disney Twisted-Wonderland has been released today.  ・Character design ・Main scenario creation ・Card illustration (all rarities / including finishing for the R cards) ・Supervision of personal scenarios (writing several as well) I handled everything above. I hope you enjoy it! - Toboso Yana (Twitter, 2020/5/8)

I felt that the initial R school uniforms and sportswear cards are special, as they are likely to be the first introductions to these characters, so I was in charge of them all. I am grateful to have been trusted with them. - Toboso Yana (Twitter, 2020/4/13)

So there we are! 🥳

If anything we can maybe consider the base card art for the gym clothes and school uniforms as more "canon" than the sprite designs of those same characters, even though the sprites are what we're used to seeing, as card art is not being forced to change the characters' appearances in order to fit the limitations of Live 2D sprites ⚔️ Maybe!

(The sprites have this same issue with height! At 156cm Epel maybe only comes up to Malleus' elbows? But in the game Epel is made taller while Malleus is made shorter, in order to fit his horns in the screen.)

[davidisnotmyname]

MAJOR FUCKING SPOILERS FOR THE SEVENTH COMIC (also this post is really long be warned)

Okay I wanted to give my thoughts on the seventh comic because I, a sleep deprived teenager with absolutely no knowledge on comic making or writing, feel that my opinion is logical and good /s

First off, my immediate reactions to the comic:

OH MY FUCKING GOD THATS A CHILD. THATS SOLDIER’S AND ZHANNA’S CHILD. THATS THEIR BABY. WHAT THE FUCK

the second I saw this shit I knew this comic was gonna give me an aneurysm (in a good way).

waitasecond…

THERESTWOOFTHEMOHMYGOD (also im so fucking happy that the joke I see in fan media a lot about Soldier naming his kids stuff like that is officially canon)(also east meets west fans were eating good this comic)

I like that the comic creators have put so much focus on Spy and Miss Pauling’s relationship. Not only is their dynamic great, but it shows that Spy isn’t a heartless jackass and he not only genuinely cares about the people around him, but can and will show it (I mean most of us knew that already but… someeeee people have fallen victim to the temptations of flanderization)

you’re gonna see this come up a lot in my rambling but I fucking love the shit the mercs are doing in the background, their expressions are so funny: Heavy is sick of their shit

Demo is asleep

Scout can’t breathe

Spy is also sick of their shit

Medic (and that godforsaken baby baboon) is sightseeing

Pyro is having the time of their life

and Sniper and Pauling are just trying to make sure they don’t all fucking crash and die

This is irrelevant as fuck (but most of the stuff I say is) but I just wanted to bring up how much I liked the secretary’s design. It’s very pleasing to look at.

They are like ants to me. I want to put them in a jar with holes in the lid and a bunch of leaves and then roll them down the stairs

I know this might not be what the scene is trying to imply, but fuck yeah, lesbianism (also thank god they gave Scout some semblance of character development, they are very cute as friends)

more background mercs. Medic and Pyro in particular have me in hysterics (this comic has so much good shit I can use for my discord pfp). Also Demoman my belemoman

GOD I FUCKING LOVE THE CHARACTER DESIGNS SO MUCH, thank you young Administrator for reminding me that I am in fact gay in every direction. RIP Admin, she served cunt and died

Get that fucking thing away from me

MAKAMI!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!!! THIS SHIT BELONGS IN THE LOUVRE!!!!!!! THIS IS GENUINELY THE MOST INCREDIBLE PANEL IN ALL OF THE COMICS, I AM AWESTRUCK

Yet again more background mercs. They saw your AO3 history.

okay I was gonna say something but my phone flagged this image as nudity for some fucking reason? What

anyways, as I was saying:

GAY (guys listen it’s canon okay you have to believe me guys wait come back no wait)

also my first thought when I saw this was “heavy is trying to hold him back from doing weird shit to the corpses,” and I don’t care how anyone else interprets it because I am objectively the most correct /j

also looking back at this I’m realizing heavy’s hands are almost the size of medic’s entire torso lmao tf2 isn’t beating the yaoi hand accusations

I’m actually gonna be sick and die oh my god what the fuck is wrong with me

I’m not gonna put all of the panels cuz I feel like it’ll get annoying quick + the image limit, but the whole series of Pauling just standing there as the Admin is cosplaying a Nature Valley Honey and Oats Bar while everyone slowly trickles out of the room just hits so hard and so good. These comics are such a compelling narrative disguised as a series of shitposts and I’m all for it.

MISS P. NAME DROP???!!!!! (Also can we get an F in the chat for all the Francine Pauling truthers)

He is literally her dad I don’t make the rules (also yes I’m aware that it’s stated that he’s her legal guardian literally two panels later so this joke really isn’t funny, but none of my jokes are so what’s your point)

Yet another casual masterpiece by Makami, with the added bonus of the subject being a beautiful hairy old man who’s built like a fucking brick house. Heavy Weapons Guy TF2 I wish you were real. Also bearded heavy goes hard, i need to cook him into a fucking soup oh my god

Hey chat so did you know I’m actually going to be inconsolable for the next three years. Also this is obviously photoshopped we all know his last name is Elbertson (no but seriously I actually started running around my room and rolling on the floor when I got to yet another name drop)

Okay, I need to either say this now or have it fester in my psyche for eternity. That haircut gave me physical and psychic damage when I first saw it. Scout tf2, you’re ugly as shit but that’s honestly poggers, welcome to the club man (also oh my god he looks so much like Jerma I’m screaming, but Jerma isn’t ugly though I promise I would never diss my king like that)

Nobody talk to me

I SAID NOBODY FUCKING TALK TO ME

spy with his granddaughter, he loves her so much but still can’t bring himself to reveal who he truly is. I actually can’t fucking do this anymore this comic is gonna have me keel over and die of a heart attack

That’s it. Get in the fucking wood chipper right now /j seriously though I can’t even begin to explain how much this scene means to me. Spydad was one of the main things that got me so interested in tf2 over a year ago, and seeing him and Scout not only being civil about it, but genuinely caring about each other is everything. I’ve never been one for spydad angst (no shade if you do like it, I just personally prefer happier stuff), so I’m glad that this was the route the comics took with that plot point.

also don’t think I’m not gonna bring up the fucking mask. after seventeen years, we finally have spy’s face. Not only that, but the reveal was done through him giving it to his granddaughter. It’s done in such a casual and sweet way but it’s so impactful. He can be vulnerable around these people. This man, who’s spent his life building up walls around himself, refusing to let anyone through to the point of wearing that stinky ass balaclava everywhere, can now freely live as himself with his son and grandchildren. I’m gonna start eating screws I swear to god.

oh fuck I hit image limit hang on I have a little bit more to say check the reblogs the rest of my descent into madness will be present there shortly.

[supercap2319]

A/N: This could be given as a sequel to my last Fiyero Tigelaar fic.

: readmore:

Y/N watched as Fiyero approached him, Galinda hot at his heels. The Winkie prince gave him an easy going smile. This adorable little bookworm would soon be his. Fiyero thought to himself. There wasn't a person alive who could resist him once he turned up the charm.

“Hello, there.” Fiyero wiggled his fingers as Y/N shut his book and laid it down, giving Fiyero an annoyed look. “Hello.” Y/N’s greeting was about as warm and welcoming as a winter frost. Fiyero didn't seem to mind or notice as he gave a small bow. “You're Y/N, correct?”

“Yes, that's correct.”

“Well, allow me to introduce myself. I am Fiyero Tigelaar of Winkie–”

“–I don't really give a damn who you are.” Y/N said.

The whole student body shared a collective gasp of shock. They had watched as Fiyero approached Y/N, only for the Upland boy to reject him. What was wrong with Y/N? Even Galinda was appalled by her brother's actions. “Y/N, how can you be so rude?” She admonished. “Fiyero is new here, and you're…you're…”

“You're a breath of fresh air.” Fiyero smiles.

“What?!” Everyone asked. Even Y/N was shocked by the Prince's unbothered attitude of how Y/N addressed him. Fiyero nods and smiles. “Yes, a breath of fresh air if you will. I've been to many schools to get swarmed by people who only say things that I wanna hear. It's refreshing to have someone have their own opinion for once. Tell me, Y/N. What are you doing out here?”

“Reading?” Y/N held up his book. “I trust you've seen one before. Or know how to read.”

Once again, Fiyero laughed as if Y/N’s snide comments didn't bother him in the slightest. Galinda gave an awkward chuckle as well. How could Fiyero be so nonchalant about being insulted? Especially his intelligence. “Well, I suppose I've never had a penchant for reading , but perhaps I haven't been introduced to the right book to captivate my attention.”

“Perhaps not.”

“Why don't you show me to your local library? I'm sure I could find something there with your help.” Fiyero smiles. His blue eyes were dancing with mischief and fun. Before Y/N could tell Fiyero to go jump off a cliff, Galinda stepped in. “Oh, we would be certainly delighted to show you around. Wouldn't we, Y/N?” Her smile was tight, and anything other than a ‘yes’ from Y/N would make Galinda upset.

Y/N sighed and stood up, trying to ignore the triumph smirk Fiyero was giving him at the moment. He began walking towards the Shiz building, not checking to see if Fiyero. “The library is this way, Prince Twinkie.” He continues towards the building as Galinda pulls a smirking Fiyero along. Oh, he was going to like this little bookworm.

They walked into the library, where Y/N spotted his dear friend, Elphaba, and waved as Galinda gave Fiyero a tour of someplace she's never even stepped into before. It was kind of hilarious to watch as Galinda addressed all around. “And this is the book place. There's a collection of rare books around here somewhere. And some medium rare as well.”

“He's looking for a book, sis. Not a steak.” Y/N said.

Fiyero chuckles. “Well, there's certainly many to choose from. What would you recommend, Y/N? A good adventure book? Perhaps something with a little bit of fun?”

“How about a book on the studies of why some people act brainless?” Y/N suggested.

“Tell me. What do you do for fun around here?” Fiyero ignored Y/N’s jab, and walked closer to the other male, smirking at him. Did this guy always have to smile at everything? “You ever been to the Ozdust Ballroom?”

“The Ozdust Ballroom? Are you insane?” Y/N asked.

Galinda gets in between them. “I mean, isn't that place somewhat illegal?” She looks around to make sure no one is listening before whispering. “And scandalocious?”

Fiyero nods. “Yeah, it is both of those things. Yeah. It's also not far from here, which is another plus.” Fiyero said as Boq, the Munchkin boy, trips and drops some of his books into the floor. Fiyero stifles a laugh as he looks down at him. “Whoa. You all right?”

Boq grunts as Y/N helps him up. “Yeah.”

“I'm Fiyero Tigelaar.” He looks at Y/N and winks. “Winkie Country.”

“Oh, Oz.” Y/N and Galinda both say for different reasons. Boq stood up. “Boq Woodsman.” He gets on a stack of books to be at the same height as Fiyero. “Of Munchkinland.” Galinda grabs Fiyero's arm and leads him away from Boq. Great. Excuse me. Good to know. Um, what were you saying again about the Ozdust and fun and you and me?”

“I was thinking of inviting you, and your brother to the Ozdust tonight.” Fiyero said.

“Unfortunately, it's against Shiz rules to go into town after dark. Sorry, Prince Twinkie.” Y/N said, but he didn't sound very sorry about it. Fiyero didn't seem to mind though. “I see that, once again, the responsibility to corrupt my fellow students…” He puts his arms around both Y/N and Galinda as she gasps. Y/N rolled his eyes. “...falls to me. Excuse me.” He grabs a book from a nearby girl, and he accidentally drops it to the floor. Y/N bends down to pick it up, but Fiyero puts a black riding boot on top of it. Y/N looks up as Fiyero shakes his head no.

“The trouble with schools is…” Fiyero began.

“Not a damn song.” Y/N whispered to himself. It seemed like everyone at this school could sing and dance like some sort of musical theater show you'd hear about in the Emerald city. Not in the Shiz library. “They always try to teach the wrong lesson.” Fiyero throws a book over his shoulders, and it lands with a thud. “Believe me, I've been kicked out of enough of them to know.”

Y/N believed that. Fiyero did seem like the type to cause so much mischief and chaos at the schools he previously attended, that they had no choice but to kick his ass out. “They want you to become less callow, less shallow. But I say, why invite stress in? Stop studying strife. And learn to live the unexamined life.” Fiyero easily charmed the librarian as he winked at Y/N, showing off. “Dancing through life. Skimming the surface Gliding where turf is smooth.” He gets on the table and in a very proactive pose starts to jumble around another student's head. Life's more painless for the brainless. Why think too hard, when it's so soothing? Dancing through life. No need to tough it. When you can slough it off as I do.”

The young Upland boy watched as Fiyero Tigelaar of Winkie country, start a whole musical number inside the library.

[clesired]

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐂𝐀𝐓 | 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 !

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 ! “can i request a fred x black cat!gf since he’s such a golden retriever!bf?” thank you to the lovely anon who requested this <3

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ! go christmas shopping with your boyfriend, come back with a cat!?

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! no warnings, fem!reader, golden retriever bf!fred x black cat gf!reader, established relationship, second person pov, 0.8k words!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Your eyes scan the hustle and bustle of Hogsmeade, mentally mapping out the different shops you need to hit for your Christmas shopping.

Nodding to yourself, you gently release Fred’s hand and look up at him to confirm. “Okay, meet at Three Broomsticks in two hours?”

He looks at you like you’ve just kicked him, as he grabs your hand again and frowns. “No, what? Why are we splitting up?”

He looks so genuinely confused as to why that’s even an option and it makes you feel a little warmer despite the chilly air.

Still, you squeeze his hand softly and shake your head. “You’re one of the people I’m shopping for today, Freddie.”

You see the indignance before he even speaks. “That’s okay, I’ll just pretend like I didn’t see.”

His quick response pulls a laugh out of you before you can stop it and you shake your head in amusement.

“Two hours isn’t even that long, love. We spend more time apart during classes.” You point out gently.

It’s not that you wouldn’t prefer Christmas shopping with your boyfriend—you just prefer that your gifts remain a surprise a bit more.

He pulls you into his chest, uncaring of the surrounding witches and wizards witnessing the public display of affection.

“That’s because I’ll get a howler from mum if I skip too many classes.” He grumbles quietly, and you pout back at him teasingly.

“Oh, the poor baby. The horror!” You coo as you pinch his cheek teasingly, causing him to let out a quiet huff before he suddenly throws you over his shoulder and starts booking it through the village.

You let out a noise of surprise as you pound at his back, your hits doing absolutely nothing to slow him down.

“Put me down this instant, Frederick Gideon Weasley!” You pull out his full name, which causes him to laugh.

“Promise we’re shopping together first!” He calls back, and now it’s your turn to huff.

“Fine, I promise. Now unhand me, you silly man!” You smack his butt for emphasis just as he’s setting you down on your feet.

He smirks mischievously as he stares down at you, hands still holding you by the waist firmly. “Feeling a bit cheeky, are we, love?” His brows wriggle up and down playfully.

You furrow your brows, “What-” and then you groan, realization setting on you. “Oh, you are foul for that joke.”

He leans in closer to you, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours affectionately. “You love it.” He insists softly.

“I love you.” You correct, looking up at him.

He smiles, his eyes shining with happiness as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “And I love you.” He murmurs softly.

“Even though you drive me crazy sometimes.” You tack on, causing him to step back and clutch at his heart dramatically.

“Really know how to make a bloke feel special, love.” He winces softly, hanging his head as he rubs circles over his heart.

You roll your eyes playfully as you gently pull his hand away from his chest, intertwining your fingers before you begin walking to Tomes and Scrolls.

“C’mon, Mr. Broken Heart. You can walk it off, yeah?” You pat his back consolingly before facing forward and leading the way.

Fred pretends to sniffle softly as he walks, taking one big step forward to even out with you. “My girlfriend stop being mean to me challenge, difficulty level: impossible.”

You turn your head to glare up at him. “I am not mean to-”

You stop short as he raises a pointed brow, and you feel your cheeks heat up in a rare display of embarrassment as you look the other way.

“That doesn’t count. I’m defending my name here.” You mumble quietly, making him chuckle as you feel yourself get pulled into his side yet again.

“Don’t worry, you look cute when you’re all irritated. Like a disgruntled kitten.” He notes with a smile.

“You did not just call me a kitten.” You say, your tone laced with the slightest hint of incredulity.

“You’d look cute as a cat, now that I think about it.” Fred continues playfully. “Think you’d fit as a black cat.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” You grumble quietly, and Fred nods.

“Spoken like a true black cat.” He says matter of fact, and you can’t help but laugh out of sheer confusion.

“My love, what does that even mean?” You raise your brows.

He chuckles with you, “You know, I’m not really sure. But it makes sense to me.”

You side eye him as you two walk past Pets & Familiars. You can already see the gears turning in his head as he peers through the shop window.

“Don’t you even think about it, Freddie.” You warn, and he pouts softly.

And there he goes with his puppy eyes—you’re a sucker for that look and he knows it. “Oh, you are playing so unfair right now.” You grumble quietly.

By the time you’re walking back to the castle hours later, not only does Fred know everything you got him for Christmas and vice versa—but you are both now proud parents of a little black kitten.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! wooh, first request done!!! not sure i did the black cat!gf archetype justice, but i tried. i hope you lovelies enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

©clesired - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

xoxo,

mila! *: ･🐚༄🫧*ੈ✩

[bwat5-blog]

Vi and Jinx: Listen To Jinx

**Spoilers For All of Arcane**

The relationship between Vi and Jinx is one of most important parts of this story. It is immensely complex, tragic and heartwarming, the tale of these sisters as they fight to find their way back to one another over the course of this story is truly incredible. I have personally written a full analyses on their story, as have several others. This, is not that. Put simply, if I see one more "Vi got what she deserved" post regarding Vi getting hit by Caitlyn, or her running from Jinx's bombs, or whichever example people want to misinterpret to prove their point, I am going to lose it.

So! What this is, is a hard and fast list of some statements regarding the two of them that will likely ruffle some feathers. I would hope anyone reading my writing by now knows I love both of these characters, and understand the nuance in these situations. But people need some serious perspective. These events will be leading up to season 2, act 3, because at that point they are pretty much on the same page.

**There is nuance and deeper meaning in each of these situations. There are many more things each character does both good, and bad. Neither of them are perfect. But sometimes boiling things down is how we get to the crux of the issue**

Season 1: Act 1

There is not a single shred of evidence Vi was anything other than loving and supportive sister before the night of Vander's death.

Vi was completely correct in leaving Powder behind for the mission.

Vi did not make Jinx. An otherwise loving older sister losing control during a single traumatic event did not completely warp her little sisters mental health. Now seven years as the daughter of a violent drug lord however?

Vi "left" Powder because she was kidnapped as a minor and thrown into a violent and abusive prison without cause for seven years.

From everything we were shown, if Powder had listened their family would have made it out.

Season 1: Act 2

Jinx murders 4 firelights, 1 who she thought was Vi, and six enforcers all in 1 episode.

Jinx is a loving daughter to the man who tried to (and mostly succeeded) kill her entire family and took her for his own.

Jinx puts her gatling gun under Vi's chin during their first reunion.

Vi is stabbed, beaten and chased all in her attempt to get to Jinx.

During their reunion, Vi immediately embraces Jinx, tells her whatever she had to do was for survival, tries to take responsibility for what happened, and fights back to back with her.

Season 1: Act 3

Jinx kills several enforcers and Marcus on bridge

Jinx actively tries to kill Caitlyn and Vi both

Jinx almost kills both herself and Ekko

Jinx abducts Caitlyn naked from her bathroom, makes her put on her enforcer uniform, ties her and gags her with a smiling mask so she can try and convince Vi to kill her

Jinx brutally knocks out Caitlyn

Jinx kills Silco

Jinx murders 3 Piltover counselors including Caitlyn's mom in front of her

Vi insists she can help her sister before the bridge attack

Vi is going back to the undercity to find Jinx before the bombs go off on the bridge

Vi completely blames herself for what her sister has become when they are in Caitlyn's room.

Vi refuses to kill Caitlyn, but tries to get Jinx to come away with her so they can be family again.

Season 2: Act 1

Jinx expresses knowing she could die at any time as "best feeling in the world'

Jinx declare intent to kill Vi

Jinx intentionally lures Cait and Vi into ventilation chamber for battle

jinx encourages Vi to kill her when time comes

Jinx is the only reason Isha is in danger to begin with. She had no business being here.

Vi joines enforcer taskforce: Hunting Shimmer, Chem Barrons, and Jinx

Vi stops fighting when Jinx says she is ready to die.

Vi stops Caitlyn from hurting Isha

Season 2: Act 2

Jinx knew Vi was in the pits, and came to see her at least twice before finally coming to her over Vander. Made no move that audience is shown to help despite obvious decline

Jinx was hiding during entire occupation. She "busted half of Zaun out of Stillwater" because of Isha. Not her people.

Jinx being the symbol on the painting with Vander is laughable. She is known as the daughter of the man who killed Vander and the rest of his kids.

Jinx tells Isha last time she and Vi fought she kicked Vi's ass. Jinx was on her back wanting to die.

JINX IS THE REASON ISHA IS IN DANGER. SHE HAD NO BUSINESS BEING HERE. (Vander hunt and commune both)

Vi comes with Jinx after literally everything above

Vi saves Isha from Vander

Vi trusts Jinx and lowers her gloves.

Vi throws her body over Jinx's to protect her from explosion

In the end, the sisters have found each-other again and accepted who they have become. They are both flawed, they both mistakes,and their story is incredibly moving. Because ultimately their love for eachother perseveres even when it seems like they have totally lost one another.

So why did I do all of this? Because regardless of circumstance, of nuance, of deeper meaning, when you boil it all down Vi is a loving and protective older sister who goes about a million miles past reasonable trying to help her little sister, more than a few times to her own detriment. And guess what? Jinx knows that. She specifically tells Vi to start living for herself and stop feeling guilty over being happy, and being loved. And her last action (as far as we know) in the world of the living, is to save Vi's life. Seems like she knew what an amazing sister Vi always was. Maybe some of yall should listen to her.

[missedmilemarkers]

Hi again!! Figured that since you were technically open to any question, I want to hear your thoughts or views on this. I'm not sure if I could message you (because I'm very awkward and I can't exactly hold a conversation based on small topics) But, how do you feel about choosing something practically over passion? This question has always plagued me ever since it was brought up during class, and it provoked to me how practically was always chosen over passion as it would technically "help" them more than pursuing their passion.

Was choosing tech for you a more practical choice or were you passionate about it? I don't want to sound rude over this question, but it only occurred to me when you mentioned that you were working in a field that is quite more on the technical side. Do you see it as something similar to an art form as you develop products that could help improve lives tremendously? Or is it just a job that you expect to pay good?

(P.S Sharing these photos I took some time ago, I believe it was last year and it was submitted for a class. Hope you enjoy them as well! Not as much sun as the last one though)

First off. Before going into any of the content of this post. THAT GIANT SNAIL IS SOO COOL! I just recently found out that they exist and was just amazed by the size of them. GREAT PICTURE!!!

Alright lets unpack the content of this ask.

TLDR:

You got this I believe in you. Stand tall and proud and go for whatever your heart and head want. If they disagree pick one and evaluate later. Even if your heart and head dont know that is OK as the story of your life unfolds the path will become clear. If you are honest you can always move with confidence and never lose a moment of sleep.

I am choosing to dive deep into this again for a few different reasons. The reason I am doing this you are at a moment in time which you perceive to be important (final exams, deciding about life etc etc etc). The unfortunate thing is this moment is no more important then any other you will experience. All it is would nothing more then a "MileMarker" which you will use for evaluation later in life. That does not mean its not important. All that means is every decision you made every action you took got you to the moment you are in RIGHT NOW. So dont worry no matter your choice you will always make the right decision. Even if its wrong you will always gain insight and that insight will always lead to success if passion is applied.

how do you feel about choosing something practically over passion?

I am not sure if there is exactly a correct answer for this one. If there is I think the best one would be do whatever makes you happy, and the only way to find out what makes you happy is to try. One thing I have learned is sometimes money or love is not enough. One can have all the money in the world and be miserable. Same goes for love. One could be loved by the world and be empty inside. That answer is kind of B.S. for someone that is seeking input. With that being said I will go over some of my experiences. My very first job was at an auto mechanic shop. I used to love working on cars. I would spend my weekends doing it. I would hang out with my friends and all have a great time. So i figured it would be a good choice to work as a mechanic. So I went and got that job. I worked it for about 5 years. At the end of it I never wanted to work on cars again. To this day I will not even change my own oil because I hate it so much. Am I upset it turned out that way? Not at all. Life is all about the experience nothing more nothing less. That lesson for me was finding out what I did not like in life and was just as important in my journey as knowing what I liked. At the end of my mechanic experience I figured I should just go be a garbage man. I would get the same blue jump suit but instead of the trash coming to me I would go to the trash. Really all we can do is to try. There is no wrong answer. Even if one makes a choice and find out its wrong for you that is OK.

Was choosing tech for you a more practical choice or were you passionate about it? "Neither and both"

The reason I brought up the above being a mechanic. If i did not want the same thing to happen on my outlook of computers as it did for mechanics. It was because of this I did not get into tech. I loved it so much I did not want to risk ever hating it. So that is passion but born of practicality based on what is important to me and only me. This is was dictated by my previous experiences and not wanting to have any regret in life. More on this: I have always been interested in computers and tech. I grew up in a very poor household. We only ever had exactly what we needed and nothing more. My childhood was amazing. Yea at the time I wanted more but after I got older and realized how the world was I landed on the outlook of "I could not have asked for more and it was amazing even though it was viewed bad at the time". One of my best friends growing up his family was very rich. It was through him that I was able to get access to technology. From that my obsession was born. I loved tech so much I avoided it professionally because i did not want the same thing to happen as did with mechanics. Then one day just purely by happenstance a neighbor offered me a job. I decided at that moment you know what try it. Why not, I now knew the signs of when i might start to hate it. so why not. We can never have any form of regret. So at that first job I literally ran around a call center unplugging and plugging back in headsets. Was this something that made a difference in this world. No, was it something that I found great internal satisfaction. No. At this point did it provide me financial security. NO IT SURE DID NOT! It was until many years went by to get a chance to shine. When that moment came I was ready and I crushed it. From that moment it was all different. I gained both functional and passion in my career with huge paychecks. But you know what, none of that matters now. The only thing it provides is a story for others of my personal experience. None of it means anything right now and clearly I cannot seem to pay the bills. That is ok. I would not change my situation, the outcomes, my choices or or any aspect of how i got to this moment right now. As long as I continue to try, learn and adapt I will find my way. However none of that will happen if I never take steps on my own and try with every fiber of my being each day.

how practically was always chosen over passion as it would technically "help" them more than pursuing their passion.

Based on that statement I feel how you are looking at this in the wrong context. That statement is taken from the third person. You need to have it worded something more like this. how practically was always chosen over passion as it would technically "help" me more than pursuing my passion. The context of that change is huge. Lets take a moment and reflect on that. I bring special attention to this because 1. We can never know what is best for any other person. Its hard enough knowing what is best for ourselves. Its ok to use other peoples stories and experiences as guidance in our own actions and decisions. It should never be our place to dictate what is best for another. We can never know that persons experiences, thoughts, emotions or context. We can offer guidance and feel happy we had an opportunity to share. 2. This now forces an action from the third person to a first person. This logic dictates something must happen. Even non action is an action and should be evaluated later and potentially adjusted. Sometimes non action is the best action. Often times its not though. Its all about that re-evaluation. 3. Experience is the most important thing in life. If you are struck in any form of "I wish I could...", "I always wanted to...", "Why cant i just...", "I don't know what ...". The only way to fix that is to do anything different. If you are frozen in a conversation start with one single word "Hello". If you are struck with any form of indecision just make one that is easier and more open ended. Instead of "I will make a final decision by", change it to "I try to evaluate my choices on", then take some time do a proper evaluation. Ok i wanted to try but i was unable to do that. Its ok that happened what can I do differently to "try anything else" and step with confidence in whatever choice you make. Even if its wrong there is never any regret because you made the best decision for you at the moment. Changing the view from "Observer" to "Doer" is what this context change provides. When an honest action is taken you can always do it with confidence no matter what it is. to Your final question. Money is a sign of a job well done. If you enjoy what you do you never work a day in your life.

In final thoughts: Tomorrow will never come and yesterday is just a story that only you care about. People might want specific things for you but none of that matters. Anyone who truly cares will want your happiness above all else. If that person cant understand that then they are probably not the best person to spend your time with. If you are living in the past you are depressed. If you are living in the future you are anxious. Its all about right now nothing more nothing less. Just smile, be confident and just do what is best for you and no one else. No decisions are final, you are free to change your mind at any time. Its ok not to know. We can never know the story of life through any other way then just living it how we choose. If future you is worried (anxious). Then present you should do something to set that person which don't know but implicitly care about up for whatever that success is defined as such by you. If past you is upset (depressed) about something then future you (currently present) can do something about it and make a change. Even if that change is wrong you can tell past you (depressed) that you tried and ask that person for advise and make adjustments accordingly. As long as you try you will always get exactly what you need. Survival is a very strange thing like that. It always is right up until it is not. The moments of survival in most cases outnumber the moments of conclusion. So dont ever worry the statistics are on your side.

Time is the only thing we never get back. I choose to spend my time happy. My personal definition of happiness has changed many times throughout life (story). Money will come for me as a result of that. So far it has worked out for me. To date I have survived (lived) far more moments then i have concluded (died). The same thing can be said about anyone reading this.

Conclusion: Each time i chose based on passion, One time I lost a passion. The other time I did not. Each time I was able to survive. Each time i gained valuable experience and understanding of who I was. I always succeed because I will always try hard and hopefully learn from my mistakes just enough to be good. I want to be happy in life and If at any moment I am not that is my measuring stick to make some kind of change.

Much like the seasons change is forced.

But we will always find the beauty of tomorrow. Even though we might have suffered a broken arm.

[dame-zoom-a-lot]

Peach Pie

Here's my fic for @steddieexchange for @stitchdfox (thanks for the prompts! This was a blast to write) It's also a prompt fill for @steddiebingo round one -- two prompts: lake, and fluff Rating: EXPLICIT Tags: Phone sex, Omega!Steve, Alpha!Eddie, a/b/o dynamics, blow jobs, dry humping, praise kink, aftercare, fluff and smut, friends to lovers, strangers to lovers, platonic soulmates robin buckley & steve harrington WC: 9969 Thank you so much @fkinkindagauche and @talanashta for the beta and all the omegaverse advice. The phone sex scene was largely inspired by WabiSabiPapi's Pillow Talk. A lot of the scent descriptions were inspired by how Gauche handled it in Hot Knife

Read the entire fic on Ao3

“He shoots! And he…” Steve mutters, willing the Swedish Fish he just threw to land in Robin’s mouth. It’s almost there…

Then Robin moves two inches to the left and the candy hits her on the cheek.

“Robs. It was right there! Why?”

“You try holding still when there’s something flying at your face!”

“How am I supposed to get this in your mouth without making it fly in your face first?”

“Like you’re any better at getting it in your mouth,” Robin mutters, gesturing to the pile of sweets strewn about the floor.

It’s a slow day at Family Video. Slow enough that they’re trying to figure out some party tricks to impress Vickie. It’s not going great. Steve sighs and crosses ‘food catching’ off the list.

“Ok. The list is getting kind of short. You sure you don’t want to try keg stands?”

“Yeah right, Vickie’s going to be so impressed when I fall and break my neck.”

“It could be a good bonding experience you know? Let her take care of you and everything.”

“Nuh uh, you’re going to be switching out my bed pans.”

The bell rings before Steve can think of a retort. Vickie walks in with her usual bright smile. The patch Robin gave her sits prominently on her right shoulder. Robin erps. Steve tickles her to give her some cover for the deep blush on her face.

“Hey,” Vickie says shyly.

“Hi,” Robin stammers. Steve backs up a little when Vickie comes up to the counter. He and Robin practiced for this. She even made him put on a little red wig so she can really immerse herself. And yet.

Steve watches the two of them awkwardly stammer out a few stilted lines about band, frustrated beyond belief. He knows Robin can talk to Vickie. He’s seen her talk to Vickie. Besides, Steve knows Vickie also likes Robin. Why else would she be renting a movie a day ? Who watches that many movies? Weirdos, or someone trying to get into the movie shop employee’s over-sized pants.

“So Vickie, what ‘cha doing this weekend?” Steve says, unable to stand it anymore.

“I…” Vickie takes a beat, like she’s searching for a cool answer. “I’m going diving,” she says.

“What a coincidence,” Steve says with a smile, “so were we.”

“We are?” Robin asks. “I mean, we are,” she corrects herself.

“That’s… that’s great. So we can… if you don’t mind me butting in that is,” Vicky mutters out with a bright smile.

“Oh please, we’d be honored to have your butt—ing in,” Robin says. Vickie laughs, somehow charmed. Steve smiles and backs off to go pretend to organize the sci-fi section now that the two are talking about diving and weekends. A shameful part of him chafes at the thought of Robin actually getting together with Vickie. There’s going to be a lot less sleepovers, movie nights, and going up to the city. Or maybe Robin will let him tag along as a forever third wheel. Whatever it is, as long as Robin’s happy…

Steve’s wallowing so deep in self-pity that he misses Robin coming up to stand behind him. He shrieks at the sudden sharp finger on his pits.

“Ouch, my ears,” Robin complains as if it wasn’t all her fault.

“Jesus, warn a guy next time,” Steve gasps. Robin doesn’t give him a second to catch his breath. She pulls him into a tight hug instead, squealing loud enough to make his ears ring. “I’ll take it that you have plans?” Steve asks, laughing.

“Yeah dingus,” Robin says, letting him go so she can punch him in the arm, “thanks, I guess.”

“Yep, so I should have a horrible stomach flu the day before and not show up right? Let you get some quality time?”

“Yes, yes, but actually…” Robin says hesitantly.

“Actually what? Robs, you’re not asking me to come to your first date are you?”

“Well the thing is…” Robin draws a circle with her toes, face flushed, “i’mafraidoffish,” she finishes.

“What was that?”

“I’m…” Robin takes a deep gulping breath. “I’m afraid of fish.”

“You had fish with me? Last night?” Steve asks, flabbergasted. How did he not know this before now?

“Right but it was dead… It’s the live ones. Can’t stand the thought of them staring at me,” Robin says with a shudder.

“Robs, but you’ve… dived before,” Steve says, “when my leg cramped up?”

“That wasn’t a dive,” Robin retorts, “that was just me jumping into lake water. Besides, I was too focused on, you know, thinking you might die?”

A wave of intolerably strong fondness washes over Steve. Sure, he was touched back then when Robin threw herself into the cold lake water with zero hesitation. But he didn’t know that she apparently had a phobia of fish in waters, and that lake was full of them. “Robs…”

“Nope, nope, zip it. You sap.” Robin says, pinching his mouth shut with two fingers. “That’s not important. What’s important is, you need to figure out how to make me comfortable with diving.”

“I don’t know… close your eyes or something?”

“But Vicky’s going to point out cool fish and stuff to me and I need to enjoy it! Not freak out about the thing looking at me!”

“I don’t…” Steve looks around the shelves as if it might give him an answer. “What if… what if we practice?” He finally asks.

“Practice?”

“Yeah. Let’s… we’ve got six days right? We’ll go diving every day. Get you used to it. Then by the time you’re going on a date with Vicky you’ll be a pro,” Steve says, getting more confident with every word.

“You think a week is enough?” Robin asks quietly.

“Yeah! You’ve never actually had fish staring at you right?”

“No, they’re usually dead by the time they get to me.”

“Yeah! So you just need to try it out first,” Steve takes her hand and presses it to his heart, amplifies his scent so it can waft over her. “Look, you already said we’re the same person. I’m not scared. You won’t be scared. You get it right?”

“Dingus,” Robin says, lightly slapping his chest and squirming her hand away. “Alright. Operation sleeping with the fishes is a go.”

********* The dive shop is tiny and efficient. Every available inch is stuffed with various… stuff that Steve figures must be important. The guy at the counter is strumming something nice on a guitar. He smells like campfire and something Steve can’t quite name. Whatever it is, it’s loosening up the anxious knot in Steve’s chest.

He put on a brave face, but honestly, he’s as nervous as Robin. Sure, he was on the swim team, but that was in a pool. The last time he tried swimming in the open waters, he got a leg cramp and Robin had to pull him out. He hadn’t gone into a natural body of water since. That’s why he got here first, to scope things out and figure out how everything’s going to go. Otherwise, she’ll smell his nerves, then he’ll smell her nerves and it’s going to make him more nervous then her more nervous and so on and on, creating a flywheel of shit until they’re both a puddle on the floor. But he’s going to be ready. He’ll talk to that dude and he’ll make a plan. Steve takes the time to look around the cramped shop before clearing his throat.

The guy starts. “Hey! Welcome to Lover’s Dive,” he says, spinning a little too hard on his chair. He ends up turning himself a full 360 degrees and has to adjust, cussing under his breath. Steve stifles a giggle. “Sorry, let’s try that again,” he mutters, facing Steve. “Welcome to Lover’s dive!… Harrington?”

“Eddie?” Steve gasps. “Mrs. Click’s class right?”

“Aww you remembered little ol’ me?” Eddie says, batting his lashes and flashing his alpha canines. “Funny. I don’t remember us exchanging a single word.”

“And yet, you remembered me,” Steve mutters, pleased but flustered. Of course he remembers Eddie. Loud. Bright. Sauntering on lunch tables and daring his basketball team to come and bite him. Tommy hated him. Steve couldn’t look away.

“I thought you moved?” Steve asks.

“I did,” Eddie says with a shrug, “but…” he clears his throat. “Anyway, I’m back. Wayne’s friend wanted someone to man the shop while he dives in the Carribeans.”

“That’s nice of you,” Steve says. Eddie responds to that with a big, dimpled grin.

“So how can I help?” he asks, “you just here for equipment? Or you want the guided tour?”

“Guided tour please,” Steve asks. “I’m going to be coming around quite a bit actually. Robin and I were hoping to get better at diving.”

“Robin? Robin Buckley from band?”

“Yep. You knew her?”

“Yeah, great musician. Gotta say Harrington, your tastes have changed since we last passed each other in those halls,” Eddie says, leaning forward. “You be good to her. You hear?” He pantomimes cocking a rifle.

“We’re not dating,” Steve says laughing.

“Is that a yet?” Eddie asks with a gleam in his eyes. “This the old Harrington special?”

Steve groans. “Dude, we’re not in high school anymore. You really want to harp about the old ‘King Steve’?” he says, making air quotes, “very conformist of you, just saying.”

Eddie makes a strangled noise and clutches at his chest. Steve leans forward, alarmed, as Eddie sinks to the floor.

"Eddie?" Steve whispers. Did he kill him?

Then Eddie shoots back up with a giant dimpled smile. "It's me! Back from the dead after killing the old Eddie, a judgmental conformist." He awkwardly climbs over the counter, so he can get right into Steve's space. There's only dimples and campfire. Steve stops himself from trilling just in time. "So, my friend, let's do that again. Welcome to Lover's Dive! What glorious times are you hoping to have with your friend in these exalted waters?"

Eddie’s eyes are wild. His hair is even wilder. He’s put on some muscles after high school. The veins on his forearms flex. But that lightness, the refusal to quiet himself down and fit in to a nice little mold… that’s all still there. Steve feels the blood rushing to his ears…

“Munson. He’s my best friend,” Robin snarls from the door, “don’t fuck with him.”

“Noted, Lady Buckley,” Eddie says, exaggeratedly backing away from Steve.

“We were fine,” Steve says hurriedly. Robin scared the shit out of Dustin that one time he got too snippy about Steve being slow to read. He knows Robin wouldn’t hesitate to drive an air tank into Eddie’s head and he does not need that right now.

“So, what can I get you? Friend birds?” Eddie asks.

“Your finest tour if you please,” Steve says, trying to remember all weird fantasy English stuff that Munson and the kids seemed to get such a kick out of.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

For the Family Day interactions: Hey there, Najma! Wow, you're just as pretty in person! I can't believe you and Jamil are siblings. He's usually so aloof but you're so much fun to talk to and hang around with! Say, why don't we exchange numbers? That way, we can still chat after today.

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

"Hehe~ Did you hear that, Jamil?" Najma demanded, giving her older brother a playful shove. "They said I'm pretty and fun to talk and hang out with, unlike you."

He frowned in that way you were so familiar with. His face and Najma's were striking similar--of course, because they were of the same flesh and blood. The flat shape of their eyes, irises the color of a storm about to set in, the slope of their noses, the slight curve to their upper lips. But you'd sooner perish than call Jamil pretty in front of him.

"There is nothing wrong with being aloof," he grumbled. "And don't let one person's compliments go to your head! Vanity can be an ugly thing."

"Wow, can you believe this guy?" Najma feigned surprise, her mouth forming an O. "He's so jealous I got praised that he has to go and immediately shut me down."

"I am reminding you to stay humble," Jamil corrected.

She rolled her eyes. "You're so right about us, we're nooothing alike."

"That's one thing we can agree on."

I don't think either one of them sees the irony in this... They're way more alike than they care to realize.

You shyly offered your phone to Najma. "Ah, so about exchanging numbers... Would that be okay with you?"

"Sure! I'd love to keep in touch." She reached for your phone, only for Jamil to jut an arm in her path. "Hey, what gives?!"

"Absolutely not. You shouldn't be handing your phone number over to someone you've met a total of... what, twice?"

"Killjoy," Najma muttered under her breath.

"... In any case, if there's a message you'd like to communicate to Najma in the future, you can inform me and I will pass the message along to her. That's a far safer method than you being granted unfettered access to one another. Who knows what weird things you'd discuss?"

"Maybe we want a chill space where we can chat without an annoying big brother micromanaging us." Najma stuck out her tongue at him. "Ever think of that?"

"Hey, don't act immature...! I'm only doing what's best for you."

"Who's the immature one here?! As if I need your protection!"

"Ahahah..."

Jamil and Najma really are birds of a feather. Or would that be snakes of a scale?

[genderqueerdykes]

hey, i saw a post on here saying you guys support non "traumagenic" systems and I was wanting to know if thats true.

You guys are so amazing and have helped me with my identity a lot, but this information is really important to me as a trauma survivor with severe PTSD. If you are pro endos but are open to listening to trauma survivors and phycology sources, I absolutely will provide them. I want you guys to be a safe space for people with PTSD and dissociative disorders so bad, as people who has OSDDDID tend to have more "contradictory" labels in the first place, due to the complex relationship all the different alters identities make combined.

I'm hoping so much that you'll be open to listening if this is true.

hello! i'm good, i don't need any!

if you only have severe PTSD and not a dissociative disorder and do not identify as plural, you should NOT be commenting on plurality at all. like i hate to break it to you, but if you do not deal with plurality, you do not know what the experience is like. reading papers about it will not give you insight into how people actually live.

i'm an inclusive Dissociative Identity Disorder system who is 100% pro endo, and any other type of system. i support ALL plurals, i don't cherry pick. you're correct, this blog is a safe space, especially for people with "contradictory" identities or ones that "don't make sense." why wouldn't i be here for endogenic and non traumagenic systems?

that would go against everything i stand for.

i am a trauma survivor as well. i *have* DID, i don't really need any resources on the matter- before I was diagnosed i spent years researching, and i still do keep up with research. i am aware that DID and OSDD are caused by trauma! generally it's severe, repeated trauma and/or neglect. i have no memories of my life before the age of 10. i too have severe PTSD, i have a diagnosis for C-PTSD in specific. i live with this every day of my life. i still have a lot of trauma and triggers. i black out and lose time and regularly forget who i am or where i'm at.

something to keep in mind is research on DID has literally 0 bearing on other types of plurality. just because there is a lot of research into DID, OSDD, etc. does not mean that other plural experiences do not exist. when ONLY siting medical sources and saying that because there's no other "proof" or "evidence" that other types of plurality "can't" exist, it's an appeal to authority. there is no research data to point toward because studies on DID and OSDD and other dissociative disorders have really only gained traction within the last 10 - 20 years maximum. this is an extremely recent phenomenon! just because there are no (paid, keep in mind that studies have to find funding, and investors are picky) medical papers or studies to point toward doesn't mean something isn't happening.

someone identifying as plural without trauma is not an affront to plurals who do have trauma. someone identifying as a system who doesn't have or know of any childhood trauma is not spitting in your face. i've seen this take around and it's just not it. don't take someone else's mental health as an attack on yours. it's not hurting you at all for people to identify as plural if they don't have trauma. it's not spitting in *my* face, so it's not spitting in yours, either. it's okay to let non traumagenic systems exist. it's not exacerbating your trauma or re-traumatizing you or subjecting you to new trauma.

they're not saying that your trauma is invalid just because they don't have any. i don't like people who get on a high horse because they have a dissociative disorder and act like they get to police how other people's brains work. you only know how your brain works. you do not know how any other type of system works.

endogenic systems are not identifying as endogenic to spite you or dissociative systems. they're not doing it to hurt you. they're doing it because they identify as multiple people. that is not being done with the intention to hurt anyone. this is about THEM, not you. nobody is the protagonist of the plural community. no one.

as a plural, myself, i get to choose who i support. and i choose to support people who aren't hurting anyone or doing anything wrong. i really don't care how offensive some people find non traumagenic systems, but they're not hurting you, me, or anyone else. live and let live. you don't know how someone else's brain works. you will never be able to know how someone else's brain works. accepting that will make your life easier.

being angry at other people for not having trauma will not make yours go away or undo what was done to you. you should never take out your frustrations on people who haven't hurt you. endos haven't hurt you, you just don't agree with them. these are 2 separate things. also you really don't have the right to comment on the nature of how complex non traumagenic plurality is or is not- endogenic systems can have just as many nuanced and complex identities regardless of whether or not they're dissociating. they're still multiple people whether or not you see them that way. they also have complex identities, why wouldn't they? being different people leads to a lot of complexity. you should still see them as multiple people even if you don't think it's legit. that's basic respect for another person who, again, literally hasn't hurt you.

also endogenic and non dissociative systems are still people, and we should still care about them. they're still people even if you don't agree with them, and again: they have not hurt you by virtue of existing.

hope that helps and makes sense. i am not open to changing my mind on this, but i appreciate you giving me a good reason to explain my stance on the matter. i don't have the right to police other people and tell them how their own brains work. you don't have that right, either. i'm not here to police anyone. that goes against everything i stand for. i don't gatekeep.

i'm not a cop.

[httpsdana]

Maybe one for Xavi where he gets you name tattooed on his chest and you notice in when your in bed and he’s shirtless

Signed and Sealed~Xavi Simons

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

y/n and Xavi were sprawled on his bed, wrapped in a shared blanket as the two of them attempted to watch a movie.

Well, she was trying to watch it—Xavi, as usual, had other ideas.

“You’re not even paying attention,” she muttered, swatting at his hand as he lazily traced shapes on her arm.

“Why would I?” he teased, his lips quirking into a smirk. “You’re more interesting than whatever cheesy plot this is.”

“You don’t even know the plot because you’re not watching!”

“Exactly.” He grinned. “I’ve got better things to look at.”

Rolling her eyes, she snuggled back against him, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath her. But then he shifted beneath again, letting out an exaggerated groan.

“Ugh, why is it so hot in here? Are you trying to cook me alive?”

“Maybe I am,” she joked, smiling up at him. “What better way to test your resilience?”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied, sitting up and tugging his shirt over his head. “Let’s see how resilient you are when I make you walk home in the rain.”

“You’d never,” she quipped, but her voice trailed off as her eyes landed on his now bare chest.

There, inked just over his heart, was her name.

“Xavi…” she breathed, sitting up straighter as her gaze locked onto the tattoo.

He glanced down, his expression instantly morphing into a smug grin. “Oh, that? Took you long enough to notice.”

“That’s my name,” she whispered, almost in disbelief. “On your chest. My name.”

“Yup,” he said nonchalantly, like he hadn’t permanently marked his body for her. “Thought it was time to make my priorities clear.”

“Xavi,” she said again, her voice slightly shaky as she touched the tattoo lightly. “You got this for me?”

“For us,” he corrected softly, wrapping his hand around hers and pressing it against the ink. “Because you’re the most important part of my life, and I wanted a way to show it. Forever.”

Her heart swelled at his words, but she couldn’t resist teasing him. “Forever? What if I dump you for taking the last cookie again?”

He grinned. “Then I’ll tell everyone I got this tattoo because you make the best cookies. At least it’ll still be true.”

“You’re such a dumbass.”

“And you’re perfect,” he countered, his tone shifting to something softer as his free hand cupped her cheek. “Every time I see this, I’ll think about how lucky I am to have you. To love you.”

Tears prickled her eyes, and you leaned in, kissing him softly. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

“Crazy about you,” he said immediately, grinning against her lips. “Come on, you set me up for that one.”

She laughed, shaking her head as she brushed her fingers over the tattoo again. “Did it hurt?”

“Not as much as I thought it would,” he replied. “But then again, you’re worth any kind of pain.”

She groaned. “Stop! You’re so cheesy.”

“Cheesy? Me? Never,” he protested, though his grin only widened. “I’m romantic. There’s a difference.”

“Sure there is.”

“Hey,” he said, tilting her chin up so her eyes met his. “I mean it, though. This tattoo? It’s because you’re my always. My everything. And if putting your name over my heart isn’t the best way to prove that, I don’t know what is.”

Her breath hitched at his words, and before she could stop hersels, she was kissing him again.

This time, it wasn’t soft or hesitant—it was full of the love she felt for him, love that words couldn’t always capture.

When she pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, his eyes sparkling. “So… do I win boyfriend of the year, or what?”

She laughed, swiping at the tears in her eyes. “You win. But only if you promise to never pull a stunt like this without telling me again.”

“fine” he said, pressing a quick kiss to her nose. “But just so you know, I’ve got plenty more ideas where this came from.”

“Should I be scared?”

“Terrified,” he teased, pulling her back against his chest. “But admit it—you love it.”

She let out a content sigh, her fingers tracing over the ink once more. “I love it. And I love you.”

“Good,” he murmured, his lips brushing the top of her head. “Because you’re stuck with me now, name tattoo and all.”

[spametc123]

The phrase “maybe the curtains were just blue” is genuinely so harmful to media literacy as a whole. Yes, things can just be the way they are, but almost everything exists with context. Do you exist or do you exist because of everything that has happened in the world? Your parents met, you didn’t die that one time when you were eight, you’re the person you are because of that awful haircut you had in seventh grade. You exist because of all of that.

So, nothing pisses me off more than when someone uses an incomplete quote. “A jack of all trades is a master of none” without the second half: “but oftentimes better than a master of one” (everyone say thank you Shakespeare) has an entirely different meaning. The first half by itself is utilized to shame people into ignoring things they love or are interested in; meanwhile the full quote praises people interested in a variety of things. Ignoring context literally erodes the meaning behind anything. Machiavelli said “it’s better to be feared than to be loved.” Wrong. Loud incorrect buzzer. Kind of. As Malcolm Gladwell writes, “it’s not wrong, exactly, it’s just incomplete.” (Or something like that anyways.) Yes, Machiavelli did write that. Congrats! But you forgot a kinda, semi, VERY FUCKING IMPORTANT component of that quote. “It is better to be feared than to be loved if one cannot have both.” It should be common sense right? I wish. Ask anyone about their opinion on the incomplete quote and see how many of them think they’re revolutionary when they say “oh I’d rather have both!” If the full quote doesn’t seem to make a difference in your mind, great! But there’s still more context that you need to know to actually understand it (let alone teach it (Mr. History teacher that is NOT a philosophy teacher and should not try to be one)). The quote is from The Prince, a writing in which Machiavelli talks about what makes a good leader. In his opinion, The Prince should know when to utilize love and fear to his advantage. Be loved by your people and feared by your enemies. Seem more trusting than you are so you can see who is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He says that one should prefer to be feared than to be loved in time sensitive situations, not sustainably. That when things need immediate change being feared makes a stronger and more effective leader (which is unequivocally correct and I’m tried of hearing otherwise). So again, without context: a random quote that no one agrees with or really understands at all, whatsoever vs. with context: the assertion that in times of need it is better to be respected and feared than it is to be loved. Or, a personal favorite “dubito, ergo cogito, ergo sum.” I doubt, therefore I think, therefore I am. Oh wow! So cool, he thinks therefore he is - being capable of thought means I exist, how neat! Not wrong, sure, but lacking context. What makes the philosophy so powerful is the fact that it’s a paradox. You doubt your existence, therefore you are capable of thought, therefore you exist. Because you doubt your existence, you prove that you exist. But if you are then confident you exist, do you no longer exist anymore? And now you doubt it again. Without context, it’s just words on a page, nothing notable or interesting. Without looking for the context it’s yet another thing people will complain about having to learn because “why does it even matter?”

It’s the same with characters. Armand is batshit fucking insane, yes, but he only is that way because of who he is. The tv show fails his character when they age him up, because even with some of his backstory, he is the way he is mainly because he’s eternally trapped in the body of a 17 year old. ____ is too trusting! Maybe in different circumstances, yes, but that character is the way they are because of the life experiences they’ve had. ____ is the right amount of trusting for the life they’ve lived.w

It’s the same for people too!!! Please find it within you to have basic human empathy! Someone is the way they are because of their life experiences. You can’t have something happen to you, good or bad, and not be affected by it. Someone can only change if their experiences change. No, it’s not your responsibility to change someone’s behavior or to tolerate it, but it is your responsibility to try to understand why someone is the way they are.

Empathy and media literacy are so clearly intertwined it’s would be comical if it wasn’t depressing. Read between the lines, try to understand things that you don’t get immediately. The curtains aren’t just blue. It doesn’t matter if it’s to represent sadness or just because it’s the author’s favorite color or even because the author was so indecisive they made someone else pick it, there’s still a reason. Anti-intellectualism is the curse that keeps on dooming us all.

[anistarrose]

Asexuality can be about more than just sexual attraction and lack thereof. There have historically been multiple avenues to asexuality.

First of all: of course, you don't have to identify as ace if you're sex-repulsed/sex-averse, but feel like your attraction has something else going on that's important to you. And of course, you can identify as ace if you're sex-favorable, but feel like your lack or near-lack of attraction is important to you too. Nothing I am about to say negates those things.

However, for some people, sex aversion/repulsion is the most important factor in falling under the mantle of asexuality. The most important factor in resonating with the language of asexuality, finding a home in the asexual community, and considering asexuality both an identity they can take pride in, and use to communicate their experiences.

As useful as it can be to describe and discuss sexual attraction, said sexual attraction is ultimately a social construct that may be impossible to parse, uncomfortable to parse, inapplicable, and/or irrelevant to many on the asexual spectrum. Many of us active in the asexual community are familiar, either firsthand or secondhand, with how slippery the concept of sexual attraction can be — the turtles in ponds metaphor, the search for something you're not sure you even know the shape of. What's the boundary between attraction and non-attraction, between sexual and sensual and aesthetic?

Really, should something so slippery and confusing be the only metric we're allowed to define ourselves by? I argue it can be useful for many, but should never be a requirement — and personally, it's not how I define myself. I identify as asexual in part because the question of "Do you experience sexual attraction?" is fundamentally impossible for me to answer. An intractable problem, which I reject the need to answer or solve in order to know myself as a person.

Moreover, sexuality has a long history, serving as a useful term and community to ace-specs with a wide variety of experiences with attraction, desire, and action. While the "Non-Libidoists" of the early 2000's were by no means correct that a lack of interest in sex/masturbation should the only avenue to an asexual identity, they highlight that aversion and indifference to sex have been many people's reason to find a home in asexuality, throughout much of that term's usage.

Multiple avenues to asexuality are possible, and that goes both ways. Asexuals who have or want to have sex need to be welcomed and cherished, but positing that "little to no sexual attraction" is the only valid definition of asexuality is an overcorrection — and an alienating, exclusory overcorrection at that.

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

Orbit - Act Three

Y/N has a little problem and it’s that she’s literally never alone. She hasn’t known what a little peace and quiet is for nearly a decade. When her therapist suggests a wellness retreat, she expects to be bored to death and just maybe learn to like meditation a little bit. She does not expect to meet someone that she has an insane connection with. Too bad it might be too good to be true.

You can find the masterlist here. 

Genre: medium au, a hint of soulmate au, heavy on the angst 

Pairing: Minghao x reader (featuring therapist!Jeonghan, best friend!Junhui, and ghost!Vernon, with a tiny bit of coworker!Seungkwan)

TW/CW: *deep breath* a lot of discussion of death and moving on (or not) afterwards, grief, trauma (specifically regarding a car accident), therapy, meditation, hypnosis, sleep disturbances, psychic abilities, discussion of mental illness and treatments, and explicit smut. MDNI. 

There are some difficult topics in this story and they are handled as delicately as possible, but proceed with caution if anything here might be upsetting.

Word count: 8.4k

Minghao watches the snow fall outside. He’s physically relaxed, lost in thought. It kind of feels like how he drifts in his sleep, but he’s awake. He’s just… not with it today. This time of year bothers him. He’s far away from family and won’t be able to visit this year, meaning he’s left with his thoughts. 

“Minghao?” He snaps back into his body, looking at Jeonghan, who looks patient but a little concerned. His notebook is already on the table. “You look a little lost today.”

“Sorry,” Minghao clears his throat. “What were you saying?”

“I was asking how things are going with that woman. Y/N, wasn’t it?” 

His heart races and it’s both a good and bad thing. It’s now been a couple months since he started dating you and he’s still head over heels. You seem to be too. But he’s sort of feels like he’s living a double life lately. 

“She’s good. Things are good.”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “Where’s the stupid grin that you normally wear when you talk about her?” Minghao opens his mouth but then thinks better of it and closes it. Jeonghan purses his lips, glancing at his watch. He doesn’t have to remind Minghao that he’s shut down early. He just knows. “Trouble in paradise?”

“No!” Jeonghan’s eyebrows shoot up at Minghao’s knee-jerk reaction. Minghao tries to recover, if only a little. “I mean, it’s fine. Great, even.”

“But?” Jeonghan trails off. When Minghao doesn’t respond, Jeonghan uses his tried and true tactic. He tells you how you feel and he wants you to correct him. “It’s hard to let someone in, right? You seem like the type that might find it difficult.”

“I’m gonna throw more than a pillow at you.”

Jeonghan shrugs like he’s heard worse threats. “Am I wrong?”

“Yes,” Minghao insists hotly. “It’s not hard to let her in on 99% of things. It’s actually very easy.”

Jeonghan gives him an irritatingly easy smile. “Right. Soulmates and all.” Minghao’s fingers grip the pillow in his lap at the way he says ‘soulmates’ like it’s entertainment. It’s not entertainment to Minghao. It’s soul-crushing in the best way possible. “Tell me, what could you possibly not tell your soulmate of all people? What’s in that 1%?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the astral projection. She’ll probably look at me like I’m crazy,” Minghao avoids. 

Jeonghan looks highly entertained, leaning back and smirking. “What, is she not a believer in that sort of thing?”

“No,” Minghao grates, already growing frustrated with the conversation. “The astral projection itself wouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Then what is?” Jeonghan presses, curiosity evident.

Minghao groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “It would make me sound crazy.”

“Do you realize where you are? That’s what I’m here for,” Jeonghan deadpans. 

“Fine,” Minghao huffs impatiently, pressing his fingers into his throbbing temples. He hates thinking about this. “How would I tell her that the first time I met her wasn’t at the retreat?”

Jeonghan tilts his head to the side, looking kind of perplexed. “I’m gonna need more than that.”

Minghao opens his mouth and words just start to fall out. It’s long winded and rambling and probably makes no sense. When Minghao falls silent, Jeonghan is quiet for a long time, a weird expression on his face as he looks outside at the snow. It makes Minghao snort. “Told you it sounds crazy. You’ve thought so since I told you about the wellness retreat.”

Jeonghan shakes his head vehemently. “Oh no. I believe you. Don’t take my silence as doubt.” His smile turns wry. “It’s not exactly what I trained to deal with, you know?” Minghao thinks he looks like he has a million questions, but he starts with, “when did that start?”

Minghao shrugs though he knows exactly how long it’s been, almost right down to the minute. “Ten years ago or so.” 

Jeonghan’s interest is piqued. “Was there a catalyst? Or it just happened one day?”

“There was a catalyst. I’d really like to not talk about that.” 

Minghao is kind of surprised when Jeonghan backs off. At least from direct questions, anyway. “And what exactly keeps you from telling her any of this? Do you think she would judge?” 

Minghao immediately shakes his head. “No. Like I said, she wouldn’t be fazed about the astral projection. She’s got her own things going on. It’s the… other stuff that I’m worried about.” 

Jeonghan pins him with a look that is strangely stern for someone who is supposed to be calm and relatively impartial. “So she’s told you her secrets, but you can’t tell her yours? That’s a pretty big double standard, Minghao.”

“It’s not just one piece that I’m worried about,” Minghao bites. “I’m worried about the other ones that fall like dominos when I let her in on one.”

Jeonghan must recognize that he won’t be getting anywhere on that path today, because he chews the inside of his cheek for a second. “Fine. The thing is, if she finds out without you being the one to tell her intentionally, it could upset her. You should think about it.” Minghao feels more sober than he ever has in his life. Jeonghan doesn’t let him linger. “Tell me more about the astral projecting.”

He answers but his mind is on other things. 

You’re restless. So restless, in fact, that you feel bad for keeping Minghao up. You’re at his apartment tonight, but there’s very little hope of sleeping, so you leave him in bed and go to the living room, curling up under a blanket and turning on the TV. 

This time of year is hard. Historically, your mood hasn’t been great anyway, but it majorly tanks by now every year. Maybe there’s some seasonal depression - or just straight up year round clinical depression, but there’s a heaviness that follows you like a black cloud each year the moment snow hits the ground. After all, it’s just a week before the anniversary of the accident. Jeonghan says that kind of mood shift would be normal for anyone, but you think he was trying to soften the blow right before he tells you he wants you to go back to the psychiatrist, this time for anti-depressants or the like. You have something scheduled but you don’t know if you’ll show up for that.

And your mood had been good. Worlds better than previous years thanks to Minghao’s presence in your life. He gives so much warmth to you that sometimes you feel a little undeserving. You’ve noticed his mood is a little off this time of year too, and he admits it’s because he’s so far from family. You do your best to match his warmth, but you don’t know how well you do at that. But even with him next to you, you could still feel the black cloud hovering over your head and you fear you’re bringing him down too. 

You like staying at Minghao’s apartment. It’s peaceful, far more peaceful than your own apartment sometimes. It might be because of how far into the metaphysical stuff he leans. He’s got the incense and oils and crystals, you name it. You wonder if maybe he bought some of them for you, but you haven’t been brave enough to ask. You still don’t have a lot of that stuff in your own apartment, if only because you want to get a handle on this thing without relying on all the tools.

Still, that peace you feel in his apartment means you eventually doze off on the couch to reruns on the TV. You actually dream this time and it feels like reliving what you and Minghao jokingly call your first date - the night drive to look at the stars. That brings a lot of peace too, remembering how you realized you were in love with him that night. You were honest when you told him nothing would ever compare. 

You wake up slowly, but your body wakes up even slower. You’re staring at Minghao’s TV as you lay on your side, but you can’t move a muscle. Just like every time you experience sleep paralysis, you feel that slice of fear. But there’s nobody in front of you asking for anything this time. So you will your heart to stop racing. You don’t know how long it will take to come out of this, but all you have to do is wait. 

As the panic fades, you realize you’re hearing whispering. 

“You’re such an asshole,” one voice snaps.

“And you’re totally innocent here. Right,” another voice bites.

“I don’t understand why you’re hanging on to this secret. It would actually make a difference for you.” You feel your stomach flip because both of these voices sound a little familiar in your hazy mind. 

“Then it leads right to your secret, which you’re holding onto with an iron fist. Which is stupid, by the way, in case I didn’t tell you that already.”

“It matters because you’ve been visiting her like this for years! I can’t see the line that goes out the door. You can.”

“And how would she handle that, Vernon? She’d run the opposite direction. It doesn’t matter if I can’t help it because it’s creepy.”

“Creepy to check up on someone that you have a connection with? Do you remember who we’re talking about here? That would be the least of her concerns.”

This voice hisses, intense anger pouring into the sound. “Stop calling it a connection. It was an accident! It has nothing to do with what we’re like now. It’s not why I’m with her.”

“It has everything to do with it, Minghao. Why do you think I’m still here? If you could just get your shit together, maybe I could leave.”

“Will you stop blaming me for that? I take the blame for the accident. I don’t take the blame for keeping you here. That’s on you!”

“And I think she’d like to know that you had something to do with the accident that ruined her life too.”

The moment your body unfreezes, you spring up, breathing jaggedly. Vernon and Minghao are across the room and they both spin to you at the sound. Vernon looks normal to you, but Minghao looks… not quite right, like he’s fuzzy in quality. They both looked panicked. Then you blink and they’re gone. 

You bury your face in your hands, the jagged breathing getting worse. You hear the bedroom door fly open and you jump up, brushing past Minghao in the hallway. 

“Y/N, please let me explain.”

“No,” you grate out, swiftly changing clothes. You start stuffing your things into your bag with more speed and aggression than necessary, but you can’t wait to get out of here.

“Y/N? I’ll explain everything, please just stop and give me a minute.”

In the middle of stuffing things in your bag, you glare at him over your shoulder, angry tears rolling. “Tell me, how long did you know? Was it the moment you saw me at the retreat and you just casually forgot to mention that you had a hand in ruining my life?”

“It’s not like that!” Minghao cries out. “I wanted to say something but I didn’t know how to.”

“But you didn’t say something. You let me pour my heart out that first night of the retreat without batting an eye.” You laugh humorlessly. “And now I know why! You already knew everything, didn’t you? The accident, my stupid fucking gift, how fucked in the head I’ve been for the last ten years. It’s all looking so clear now. That stupid connection wasn’t even real, was it?”

“It doesn’t matter if I knew anything. I let you come to me.” You can tell he’s building up some anger, but you have almost a decade of it built up to match. “And you know that connection was real. You felt it too. I know you did.”

“You let me come to you and you tried to fix me. Did it make you feel better?” You sneer. “Did it make you feel better to try to undo everything? Did you feel a connection or did you just feel less guilty?”

“You act like you’re the only one that was hurt in that accident. I lost Vernon in that accident. And I haven’t had a normal fucking night of sleep since then.”

“And you had every opportunity to open up about it and bond with me over that, and you didn’t. You let me feel like a freak that needed all the help in the world from you when we could have been commiserating instead.” He doesn’t have anything to say about that, a blend of anger and devastation on his face when he looks at you from across the room. You wipe your face angrily. “I should have known all of this was too good to be true. I find someone that finally brings me some peace and I should have known that there was a reason behind it.”

You hike your bag up over your shoulder and brush past him out of his bedroom. He’s tugging you back by the arm and you want to curse, and scream, and maybe even hit him. But he lets go when you stop and glare up at him. “If you want to leave, fine. But let me drive you home. It’s the middle of the night.”

You let him get dressed and you lead the way out to his car. He drives to your apartment, glancing at you every now and then, not that you give him a single side eye. The silence is deafening in the car, nothing like the usual comfortable silence, and he’s barely put it in park when you’re flying out of your seat and slamming the car door behind you. 

You feel kind of numb by the time you get into your apartment and lock the door behind you. There will be no going back to sleep tonight. You think about watching TV, but you were doing that earlier before you heard that little secret. You think about sitting outside on your balcony, but you and Minghao have done that too many times. So you go to your bathroom and run a hot bath. You stay in it until it’s ice cold and you need a warm shower to stop shaking. 

You hate this time of year, yes. But this year is the worst you’ve ever felt. 

You call out of work for the week, saying that you think you have the flu. It’s a believable story, because something like that has been going around the office. And you might as well have the flu because you stay in bed and go through boxes upon boxes of tissues. In fact, that’s what gets Junhui to come over. 

He calls one afternoon to check in and can tell by the sound of your voice that something is wrong. He’s been around for more than a decade, so he knows what you’re like this time of year. But he treads extra lightly this time, asking if you need anything. You simply say, “tissues”. 

When he gets there with your tissues amongst other things, he must realize that it’s much worse than normal and you feel bad that he’s sort of tiptoeing around you. But you’ve had a steady stream of tears for days and must look like a mess and there’s no covering it up. Jun simply gives you a hug, demands that you finish an entire glass of water in front of him, and sends you off for a shower. 

When you come out, he hands you another glass of water and a bowl of stew. It takes you forever to eat because you can’t remember the last time you had anything and you kind of forgot how all of it works. He doesn’t look offended when you don’t finish it, simply packing away the leftovers for later. 

The thing about Junhui is that he doesn’t really ask questions. He just lets you be. It’s nice, really, something that you’ve always appreciated about him. You recognize that you’re the demanding one in this friendship, the one that constantly needs the help and support. And you can’t swallow the guilt anymore that you’ve paid him back for all of that patience and support by keeping secrets. 

You’ve tried not to think about your conversation with Minghao the night you rushed out of his apartment, but you’d very quickly realized how much of a hypocrite you were for criticizing him for keeping a secret. It’s not like you’d been open to him about everything. And he was a special case compared to others. Outside of Jeonghan, no one in your life knows what you really deal with. It’s not even about getting help or understanding from Junhui now. It’s that he’s been by your side this whole, unflinchingly helping you without really knowing what he’s dealing with and that’s unfair of you. 

So you sniffle and look at him from the other end of the couch. “Junhui, I need to tell you something.”

He nods. “Okay. What is it?” He’s always had an abundance of patience and it makes your heart hurt. 

So you tell him everything. It comes out more like word vomit, totally random and absolutely not in chronological order of any sort. You tell him about your abilities, and the sleep paralysis, and meeting Minghao, and Vernon, and how they’re both apparently connected to the accident, and how they both kept that a secret from you.

When you run out of words, Jun just takes a deep breath and nods, opening his arms for you to crawl into. You and Jun aren’t the touchiest of people together, but the offer of comfort brings more tears so you lean into his side and let him wrap his arms around you. “You must think I’m crazy,” you mumble against his shirt that’s quickly becoming damp. 

“No, I don’t. I always had a feeling there was something else you were dealing with, but I didn’t want to press.” He lays his head onto of ours, both of you staring ahead at the TV. “It kind of puts all the puzzle pieces together, honestly. Sometimes, you check out and it takes a long time for you to come back. It… makes some sense now. So no, you’re not crazy.”

You sigh, burrowing deeper into his chest. He tugs the blanket up, kind of cocooning you. “Thank you, but I still don’t know what to do with any of it.”

Jun thinks for a while, before finally saying, “Maybe you don’t do anything with your abilities. At least not right now. Just let it be.” He hesitates and you kind of stop breathing for fear of what he might say. “But maybe you shouldn’t let this thing with Minghao and Vernon sit.” He must feel how you tense against him and he rubs a hand up and down your arm comfortingly. “Think of it as closure, maybe. I’m not saying fix things with Minghao and get back together if you don’t want that. But, this situation seems to weigh on all three of you. Maybe it would help all of you to just clear the air and then see where you’re at.”

You don’t say anything because you don’t know if you could approach Minghao and you don’t think he’ll approach you. Not with the way you both left things the other night. And you don’t know if you’ll see Vernon again. He was always the one to seek you out and you don’t know how to seek him out even if you wanted to. 

The rest of the night passes quietly and Junhui stays when you ask. You don’t want to be alone right now. You laugh when you realize that, because that’s all you’d ever wanted for the last ten years. 

Jeonghan calls you the morning of your next appointment and cancels. Actually, he fires you. You were silent, kind of stunned by the words, ‘I can’t treat you anymore’. 

But, to your surprise, he follows it up with a request to meet for coffee the next morning, which is a Saturday. You’re perplexed by the offer and even try to bring a little levity to it. “Jeonghan, are you asking me out?”

He had snorted into the phone. “No, Y/N. I can’t be your therapist anymore. But I can be your friend. That relationship has fewer limitations.”

You don’t know what that means, but you do your best to clean yourself up and meet him at the coffee shop. Jeonghan is already there in a corner booth when you arrive and he offers to get the coffee for both of you. When he comes back with it, he gives you the same wry smile that you would normally see in therapy. “So, I hear things have been rough lately.”

Your mind stalls out. Your appointments have been solely focused on your abilities. You don’t think you’ve even mentioned Minghao, and certainly haven’t had the opportunity to tell him about the blow up the other day. 

“How did you know that?” You whisper, fingers gripping the cardboard cup. 

He looks a little sheepish, or awkward, or uncomfortable. You aren’t quite sure. But he squirms in his seat the same way he’s called you out for thousands of times. “I have a confession to make and it will skirt around a lot of guidelines I’m supposed to follow.” You blink at him, fearing the worst. He sucks in a deep breath and then sighs. “I happen to know who you’ve been dating because he’s told me about it.”

Your brain freezes and your eyebrows pinch together because you’re totally confused. “You… know him? You treat him?”

He squirms again. “I can neither confirm or deny that, but… yes, I do know him. And I happen to know that you guys are on the outs right now.”

You lean back, arms crossed over your chest, pressing your lips together tightly. “Is that why you fired me? Because you… know both of us.” You watch your words, understanding now what he meant about skirting around guidelines. He can’t tell you if he treats Minghao.

“I fired you because I can’t help either of you without being able to admit that I know what the other side is going through. That’s actually been a difficult thing over the past few months, honestly. Not letting on to either of you. I’ve been playing dumb a lot and it’s driving me nuts.”

You don’t know what to do with this, really. You’d never considered that Jeonghan knew more about your life than what you talked about in therapy. “And what can you tell me now that you’re no longer treating me?”

He purses his lips, thinking for a minute, probably trying to filter his words to not get himself in trouble. “Naturally, anything mentioned in my office is off limits. But we can talk about what was said outside of my office. If you want to hear it, that is.”

You’re undeniably curious. Minghao might have kept secrets from you, but you wonder how direct he’d been with Jeonghan. “Did he tell you about the accident?”

Jeonghan picks at his coffee cup. “Eventually. Not that he needed to.” You give him a perplexed look. He sighs, digging into his bag and pulling out a manila folder. “I got curious after our first attempt at hypnosis when you gave a description of the other car, so I requested a copy of the police report. I was trying to validate the information you gave, but I discovered something else.”

He slides the folder to you and you don’t touch it right away, like it might burn you if you do. Jeonghan sips his coffee, waiting for you to work up the courage. When you finally do, flipping the folder open, the first page has your name at the top. And Minghao’s. And a Chwe Hansol. You wonder if that’s Vernon’s name. You’d never thought to ask, always assuming Vernon was it.

The words kind of blur for you, which frustrates you because you’d kind of hoped you were out of tears by now. But you can see the important things. No one was determined to be at fault for the accident, citing bad weather and slick roads. There was no indication that either driver was driving recklessly. It could have happened to anyone. There’s a description of the damage, with the phrase ‘images attached’, but when you go to flip the page, Jeonghan reaches out and stops you. “Maybe look at the rest later. You can take the folder.”

You close the folder slowly, placing your hands flat over top of it, kind of at a loss for words. Jeonghan gives you a long time, more than he ever has in therapy, probably because the clock isn’t ticking and your bill isn’t running up the longer you take to pull yourself together. When he gets the sense that you’re almost there, he speaks up again. 

“I’ll ask you the same thing I asked him. How are you feeling with all of this?”

“Hurt. A little naive. Guilty.”

“Guilty?” Jeonghan asks with a hint of shock. “What for?”

You rub your forehead because it’s starting to throb from all of this. “I may have reamed him out about keeping secrets when I was keeping my own.”

“And what were you keeping from him?”

You laugh humorlessly behind your hand. “It would make me sound crazy.”

“Y/N,” Jeonghan huffs. “How many times do I have to tell you I won’t think that?”

“I know, I know,” you wave off. “You find the term unethical or whatever. But it will sound crazy.” You lean back again, assuming your typical defensive position. “You know we met at the retreat?” Jeonghan nods. “Well, I had a hard time with yoga at one of the sessions. I was trying to sort through everything in my head and I must have missed when the instructor called the end of the session. Minghao touched me to check on me and everything went silent. Not a single voice except my own. It happens every time he touches me.” Jeonghan’s giving you a look that makes you have to look away. “Told you it’s crazy.”

“That’s,” Jeonghan pauses, laughing in a short burst, “actually the least crazy thing about all of this. It actually makes a lot of sense.”

You give him an incredulous look. “Jeonghan, you’re sounding crazy now. Do you have a therapist?”

He’s still chuckling to himself. “I can’t believe I didn’t think about that.” You call his name, losing patience. He shakes his head. “In psychology, there are terms such as shared trauma or collective trauma. Neither of them quite fit, but what you’re experiencing might be related. You guys bonded over this accident, whether you realized it or not. It seems like it was more of an unconscious thing. And… some strange things came out of it. Those strange things aren’t all that strange, actually. People report all the time that a guardian angel saved them in situations like that. In terms of consciousness, the accident connected you. Not just you and Minghao, but Vernon too.”

There’s so much to digest there, but you find yourself saying, “You know about Vernon?”

Jeonghan nods. “Not from you, of course. You didn’t tell me you had a regular visitor.”

You feel the overwhelm creeping up on you, so you bury your face in your hands, feeling so exasperated. “What do I do with all of this, Jeonghan?”

“You go talk to Minghao, and maybe Vernon when you’re ready to clear the air.”

The level of exhaustion that you feel when you pull your hands away from your face is massive. “I don’t know if either of them want to see me.”

“They do,” Jeonghan says simply without a hint of doubt. “But you should take your time and be ready for it. They’ll wait.” You don’t have anything to say, so Jeonghan nudges your coffee to you. “Finish your coffee. I just lost some income, don’t let me waste any of it.”

“I will throw this coffee at you.”

“Go ahead. It’s cold anyway.”

Minghao hears the ding of the bell at the shop door and glances up, before looking back down at his book without a word. He’s been doing it all morning. He’s not in the mood to work, but he can’t exactly afford not to open up the shop today. He’s frankly not in the mood for anything. 

Least of all, the fact that no one is at the door. 

It freaked him out the first couple times earlier this week because, despite his little gift when it comes to dreaming, he hadn’t experienced anything paranormal while awake before. He’d never been opposed to it or held any disbelief for it, but he’d never seen it with his own eyes in the daylight. But the bell at the door kept ringing like it was opening. Sometimes, the door would even clap shut like it had been opened an inch or two and then closed again. But sometimes the door stayed firmly shut and the bell still went off. He’d thought about disengaging it, but he was kind of afraid that he’d miss someone actually coming in. 

The bell dings again and he peers up over his book to see the shelf next to the door shaking a little. Not enough to tip over, but it made him squeeze his eyes shut. He’d been going through the soil like crazy this week, because pots had mysteriously been knocked over throughout the shop constantly. He’d had to repot at least a dozen things and sweep up the mess, only for it to happen again on the other side of the store an hour later. He’d refused to truly acknowledge both the door bell and the pots being knocked over. 

The day creeps by. A flower shop just doesn’t get as much business during the winter, outside of some poinsettias or an order of red roses or the like for a funeral. It’s not the time of year for anything brightly colored and Minghao himself has a hard time looking at some of them right now, no matter how much he loves them the rest of the year. 

He would normally close up shop a little early to go see Jeonghan today, but his calendar is clear so he stays until 6pm, cleaning up yet another fallen pot before leaving. At home, he makes dinner and goes about a quiet night. But things move then too. The salt shaker tips over in front of him and he rights it, sweeping up the grains into his palm. The microwave goes off like something is inside it, but nothing is. The faucet turns on by itself and he shuts it off at least four times while he cooks. 

His bowl of food scooting away as he tries to get a bite is kind of the final straw. He drops the chopsticks and sighs. “Vernon, stop it.” The bowl jerks again and Minghao kind of resigns himself to having to clean that up too when it crashes to the floor any minute now. 

He’d been avoiding sleeping. It was far from a healthy decision, but that was how he saw Vernon and he was avoiding him, still upset about the last conversation they had. Sleeping also meant seeing you, and he didn’t want to risk you seeing him again when you weren’t ready. He was following his rule of letting you come to him, even it was eating him alive. 

The TV turns on behind him, volume shooting to full blast. Minghao rubs his forehead. “Fine!” He yells. The volume is lowers. “I’ll go to sleep.” The TV clicks off behind him.

It’s early, but Minghao cleans up from dinner and gets ready for bed. He’s usually meticulous about his bed, making it every morning and putting fresh sheets on it every week. He should have done that yesterday, but he didn’t because the sheets still smell like you and he’s feeling particularly weak about it. So he crawls into bed in crumpled sheets, pulling the bunched blanket over himself. 

He drifts off fast and knows where he is right away. He’s outside of your room and there’s a line out of the door. You must be asleep. Vernon is at the end of the hall and watches carefully when Minghao maneuvers between people to get to him. “Busy?”

Minghao glances behind him. “Yeah, just like it always is.”

Vernon gives him a hard look. “You know, avoiding me means you’re letting her suffer, right? I can’t wake her up if you don’t tell me when it gets bad.” Minghao doesn’t know what to say as his jaw ticks. Vernon sighs. “I take it you guys aren’t talking.”

“No,” Minghao says. “You know my rule. I’m letting her come to me.”

“That’s a stupid fucking rule and it always has been, particularly after you met her in real life,” Vernon says sharply. 

“Yeah, because saying, ‘you don’t need to introduce yourself because I’ve been checking up on you every night in my dreams’ is super comforting,” Minghao bites sarcastically, tone equally sharp.

“It might have been, but we’ll never know now, will we?” Vernon’s jaw is tight. He’s been bleeding frustration since the first night Minghao stayed over at your apartment. “It’s up to you guys to fix this. I can’t do anything except watch you guys, particularly you, run from this. It will have been ten years tomorrow and I’m tired, Minghao.”

Minghao feels grief-stricken every time Vernon implies that he’s stuck. It’s been a comfort to know that he’s still right there. It occurs to him that maybe he’s been selfish, clinging onto the idea that he’s not really gone. But he’s lost on how to fix it. 

A sharp voice comes from your room and Minghao spins. Some people give him looks as he brushes past them, but he’s learned to ignore it. There’s a woman leaning over you, hands on your shoulders, shaking you. Some are so desperate to find some peace that they become demanding and threatening. Besides a pinch in your eyebrows, you’re still asleep, unaware of this. Minghao found years ago that he couldn’t do anything himself. Couldn’t touch you to wake you up, couldn’t pull the demanding person away. But Vernon could, so he turns to him.

Vernon gives him a hard look again. “If you don’t want her to see you, you should leave.” 

He follows instructions, stepping out into the hallway. He knows when Vernon’s woken you up because the hallway clears, the crowd leaving looking dejected. You can’t (or won’t) help them when you’re awake, so they’ve long given up trying. 

Minghao can hear that you’re angry when the crowd clears. He makes himself comfortable, sitting down in your hallway. “Why are you here?” You ask sharply. 

“You can be mad all you want, but I’m not going to let them drain you,” Vernon says stubbornly. 

“They’ve been draining me all week,” you snap, bed squeaking like you’re sitting up in bed. 

“I’ve been busy,” Vernon evades. 

“Vernon, I don’t want to be made a fool anymore, so please stop dancing around the topic,” you practically beg. 

Vernon is silent for a long time. “So you want to talk about it?” His words lack most of the heat from earlier.

“You’ve been visiting me for nearly a decade and you never told me why. I think we’re long overdue to talk about it.”

Your desk chair squeaks and Minghao assumes that Vernon has sat down. It feels like he’s encroaching on a private conversation, like he’s done far too many times when it comes to you in this particular situation. So he wills himself to wake up. 

When he’s back in his own body, he doesn’t think twice of gathering a blanket and going out to his balcony. It doesn’t matter that it’s snowing and freezing. He’s skipping out on sleep again, if only to give you some privacy for once. 

It’s actually very easy to find what you need.

It takes what feels like a year to shower and get dressed, mostly because you’re not ready for today. You linger under the hot water and you change your clothes a few times when you’ve never really done that before. You usually take a quick five minute shower and throw on whatever is closest. Maybe you care more about what you look like. Or maybe you’re just trying to delay the inevitable for a little while longer. 

The subway is busy. Not with the living, naturally. But there are a lot of wanderers out today. It’s obvious that’s what they are. They walk through things and don’t have coats for the blistering weather. Some of them have evidence of their death, some gruesome, some not. You spend far more time looking at them today, risking being caught. 

You get off at your stop and start walking. The gates are open when you arrive and you pull out the map. This is what was easy to find. You make your way to the spot you’ve marked, trudging through the snow.

You aren’t really surprised to see Minghao at the gravesite when you arrive. Vernon said that Minghao visits it every year, sometimes for hours on end, rain or shine, snow or sleet. Doesn’t matter. 

What does surprise you is that he’s sipping from a bottle of brown liquor that’s half gone. It takes many long moments to steel yourself before you approach. He glances up when your shadow casts over him. “Mind if I join?”

“Go ahead,” he says, taking another sip. When you’re seated, he offers you the bottle. You take it without a second thought and sip from it as well. It burns your throat and whatever face you make must be funny, because he chuckles when you hand it back. “Not much of a drinker?”

“No,” you cough a little. “I didn’t really take you to be one either, especially in broad daylight in a cemetery.”

“The groundskeeper never says anything about it. They must see a lot of that here,” Minghao says. He’s probably right. Silence takes over and it’s so much quieter than normal because of the snow. It’s almost eerie, especially when you can see others creeping around. You make a point to not come to cemeteries because, much like funeral homes, they’re busy places for someone like you. But you’re kind of surprised that there’s kind of a hush in your head here, like it would be rude for the ghosts to be loud.

Like you told Vernon last night, this conversation was long overdue. But, much like your conversation with Vernon, it was hard to figure out where to start.

Minghao must not expect you to start with, “I’m sorry”, though. His head snaps to you, eyes wide. You can’t look at him long. 

“What could you possibly be sorry for?”

You reach your hand out for the bottle again and he hands it to you. You sip and cringe at the taste before handing it back. “I may not be happy that either of you kept secrets like that, but I kept my own secret. It was hypocritical of me to lose it on you like that.”

“It couldn’t compare to the secrets we were keeping, surely,” Minghao shakes his head. 

“I don’t know.” You give him a hesitant smile, trying to soften the tension between you two. “Card on the table? For both of us?”

He doesn’t smile back, anxiety clear across his face. He swallows thickly and begins. 

He was an exchange student at the time and his host family was Vernon’s family. He and Vernon became close, separated in age by only a few months or so. One night, Minghao was driving them home and the roads were bad. He lost traction and ended up in a ditch, along with another car. Your car. He was awake but groggy, immediately checking on Vernon. Vernon was responsive and insisted he was okay, all but demanding that Minghao go check the person in the other vehicle. 

Your window had been smashed in, the door crumbled next to you. He’d reached through the broken window to shake your shoulder and see if you’d wake up, but when his hand landed on your shoulder, something happened and the lights went out for him.

He woke up in the hospital bed the next day to the bad news. But that didn’t make sense to him because not long after that conversation, they’d given him another dose of morphine and he’d drifted off to sleep again. And Vernon was right there. 

So over the months following the accident, Minghao loved to sleep. He’d sleep for more than twelve hours at time, angry about waking up when he did. Everyone let him, thinking he needed the rest, not realizing that rest had nothing to do with it. He’d drift off and end up wherever Vernon was, and that often times was with you. 

He knew it was you. Knew what you looked like from the accident. In time, Vernon put the pieces together too. Knew that you had something special about you and it was draining you. 

And then he’d met you at the retreat, totally blindsided by seeing you in real life again. Totally blindsided by the immediate connection. He had a lot of fear that it was only because of the accident and his almost nightly visits to check on you. But by the end of the retreat, he was sure that wasn’t it. At least not entirely. 

When he runs out of words, he rubs his face. “God, this sounds like a bad movie.”

You glance around the cemetery. A lot of the information isn’t a surprise because Vernon had filled in some of the gaps last night. But there’s still some shock. It makes you laugh and the feeling in your chest seems entirely inappropriate. “You could say that. I mean, I’m seeing ghosts right now. It is a bad movie.”

Minghao looks at you for the first time since starting to explain anything. His gaze is a little watery, eyes unfocused. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I should have just told you. But there was no way for me to tell you that without you running the other way. Which would have been fair. It would be fair now too.”

You chuckle again, sounding a little watery too. “You haven’t heard my secret yet.”

Minghao chuckles back, sounding a little hollow. “It can’t compare to the gravity of what I just told you, Y/N. You don’t have to try to make me feel better.”

You purse your lips, looking across the cemetery. You gesture to a particular headstone, a towering monument that surely cost an arm and a leg. “Do you see that large headstone?” He looks over and nods. “There’s a woman sitting next to it. I’m pretty sure she’s passed on.”

Minghao glances back to you, confusion all over his face. “Okay?” It’s not unkind, like he doesn’t want to hear about your gift. He just doesn’t seem to know where you’re going with this. You hold out your hand expectantly and he gives you a blank look. 

“Hold my hand for a moment, please.” Your words make the look in his eyes change, turning softer. His hand is freezing when he folds his long fingers around your hand. You can’t help that your mouth twitches up a little at the touch. You look over to the headstone again. “She’s gone.”

The confusion on his face doubles. “What do you mean?”

You readjust your hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “I mean… your touch is like an off button for my little ‘gift’. My head goes quiet and I don’t see anything, at least not nearly as much as I normally would.” He’s staring at you with a a painfully vulnerable expression. “You asked what happened at that yoga session at the retreat, when you touched me. That was it. I resisted it for a while because I didn’t want to depend on it. Didn’t want it to be why I was with you.”

Minghao looks at your joined hands, almost admiring them. “And… that’s not why you were with me?”

“No, it’s not,” you say genuinely. “Was this connection in your dreams why you were with me?”

Minghao shakes his head instantly. “No. Don’t get me wrong, I had a soft spot for you because of it, but that’s not the whole story.”

After a long beat, you slide over in the snow covered grass and Minghao wraps his arms around you right away. “What now?” You ask. Cards on the table doesn’t mean you really know what to do with any of it.

He presses a kiss to your forehead with cold lips. “Let’s go home. We can figure it out later.” 

Minghao is working on an order and it’s kind of a weird one. It’s sweet, no doubt. Someone’s done their research. But normally, people will pick a single flower for a bouquet, or maybe even two or three that coordinate well. Not six that don’t coordinate in the least. This is a hodge podge of everything to do with love. Baby’s breath, camellia, carnation, honeysuckle, morning glory, and pink roses. Orders like this make him laugh because it’s really coming on strong. 

Not that he blames anyone for that. He’s been known to come on pretty strong sometimes, if only when it comes to you. 

It’s the middle of the summer now, a little over six months since fixing things with you. You both kind of agreed to forget about the week that you guys were off, calling it water under the bridge. But things had been distinctly different since fixing things on the anniversary of the accident. No secrets were allowed anymore. You’d seemed like you kind of expected him to hesitate in agreeing to that, but the only secret he’d ever wanted to keep from you was already out. Since then, things had been what you often called soul-bearing. Junhui was disgusted to be around you guys most of the time and Jeonghan even said that he regretted helping you guys fix things sometimes. He recognized that you both laid it on thick sometimes, but it really, genuinely couldn’t be helped even if either of you wanted to. 

Motion at the propped open shop door makes him look up and smile. “Good afternoon,” he says lightly. 

“Good afternoon,” you greet, smiling and looking around the shop like it’s the first time you’ve been here. You do this from time to time and he thinks it’s cute so he’s helpless to stop it. 

“Can I help you find anything?” He plays along, biting back his smile.

“I’m actually here to pick up an order,” you say, approaching the counter to lean on it, propping your head up on your fist. 

“Oh?” Minghao continues to stuff flowers into place. “What’s the name for it?”

“Boo Seungkwan,” you say, sly smile spreading across your face. 

Minghao stops, picking up the order form he’s working on right now, then raising an eyebrow at you. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“That depends. Is my order ready yet?” You ask cutely, glancing at the bouquet in his hands. He gives you a look, wrapping it up in paper and laying it on the counter, and picking up the order form. 

“May I ask who this is for?” Minghao asks, leaning on the counter too, face level with yours. 

Your smile is light. Lighter than he thinks it ever has been. “I’ve been seeing this guy. He’s pretty great and I’m very much in love.” Your eyes bounce down to the bouquet. “If you couldn’t tell.”

Minghao thinks you may never stop making his heart race stupidly. “Someone’s been doing their research. I thought I noticed a book missing from my shelf at home.”

You’re smiling though you start to flush, some of your boldness waning. “Guilty. They’re for you. I just wanted to be sneaky about it.” You stand up straight, reaching for your purse. 

Minghao reaches out to stop you, grabbing your hand. “Be sneaky all you want. I’m not going to charge you for this one.” He presses a kiss to your hand before letting go. He picks up the bouquet, admiring it. Unlikely as it is, it’s pretty. “I’ll admit, it works in a weird way.”

You shrug at him. “It was less about it working and more about sending a message.” 

Minghao puts the flowers down, walking around the counter. His arms wrap around your waist like second nature now as he leans down to press repeated kisses to you - your lips, your cheeks, your eyelids, doesn’t matter. You chuckle, hands flat against his chest. “Message received,” he says simply, pulling away.

“Any plans tonight?” You ask, looking up at him in a way that makes him putty. 

“No, I’ll just be wherever you are. If that’s okay,” he tacks on.

You press a kiss to his cheek. “More than okay.” Your phone rings in your bag and you groan. He laughs, letting you go. You’ve taken a new position at work and it means you get a lot more phone calls nowadays. “I guess I better go before someone comes looking for me. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Of course,” he says kissing you one more time before you go. 

The afternoon is busy, but he finds some time to put together his own bouquet. It’s equally weird and shouldn’t work. But like you said, it’s more about sending a message than anything. He leaves with that bouquet when he locks up. He hopes that you’ll get the message, just like he got yours. 

Bonus: I couldn't fit this in the banner but I laughed until I cried when I came across this.

[bojangos]

four and a half hours later, i have finished 'republic commando: hard contact' for the first time.

inchresting tidbits. not my usual speed but overall enjoyable. definitely made me coil up sometimes with tension of 'oh god what's gonna happen next on this shitheel OP' lmfao. some thoughts and highlights below.

highlight (or. lowlight? kal what are you on about): kal apparently calling jango a sociopath as a weird way of telling his boys about fear.

also a highlight:

i am Thrilled by the framing of mandalore as a dead empire. 'museum-piece uniform' like they are already a dead people, that there are people like hokan seemingly grasping at a glory mandalorians haven't had in *four thousand years*. love the brief implication of long history.

also i am choosing to interpret this as a kotor reference so i'm Inhaling it of course.

people talk about kal feeding his lads uj cake but i rarely see people talk about kal being like "read this childrens book about what it means to be mando". Also, despite never physically appearing in this book, Kal sure is mentioned fucking EVERYWHERE. KT we know who your favorite guy is. to be fair he is also my favorite guy. love how his spectre haunts this book. the three skirata trained lads are thinking about him constantly.

I'm not screenshotting all the truly horrendeous bits about how the clones were treated on kamino. but holy shit. there's a bit where Niner talks about one of his squadmates *blowing his own head off* in a training exercise. others talking about live fire at the equivalent of Eight. droids hovering around them even while they're eating and 'correcting behavior' intensively enough no one ejver disobeyed for fear of the droids.

god what the fuck. can't wait to read Triple Zero.

(PS. darman and etain's whole thing is still weird. i don't Wike it.)

[notgonnaedit]

Confusing Feelings

summary: Mira struggles with her feelings, as does Hunter. Meanwhile, Althea thinks they're weird.

Warnings: none

A/n: this was a trade with @dreamsight73! Your OC is awesome and I love her!

The parlor was quiet, save for the soft hum of the music in the background. There had been no jobs for Clone Force 99 for almost a week. Even with Cid giving them everything she had, the team had nothing to do.

Althea sat at the bar, doodling aimlessly with her head resting on her arm. A familiar figure walked over and sat beside her. 

"You're a little young for the bar, wouldn't you say?" Mira asked.

Althea shot her a look. "You're, like, two years older than me," she huffed.

Mira rested her hand on her chest. "I'm actually ten years older than you, but it warms my heart that you think I'm younger."

Althea rolled her lamp-like eyes. "It's probably those potions you brew."

"They're poisons, Thea," the assassin corrected. 

The girl looked up at her. "I'ma medic. And how am I supposed to know what your poisons are if you won't teach me?"

The violet clad woman raised a brow. "Didn't you just say you were a medic?"

Althea huffed. "I still carry a blaster, don't I?"

Mira hummed softly. She knew little of Althea's past, but a girl her age should never have to fight for her life. She would know.  

",I don't know how you keep doing this, kid," a husky voice commented.

Mira was pulled from her thoughts and turned to see Hunter playing dejarik with Omega. The sergeant was losing every game, but he had a content smile on his face. His opponent was suppressing giggles, but was failing.

Hunter leaned back, hands on his knees. "I need a break from this thing."

"No! I'll go easy on you!" Omega practically begged.

A small chuckle escaped Hunter. "Alright, just give me a few minutes." He stood and ruffled the child's curls before walking over to the bar.

Mira's heart fluttered as she watched him. He exuded such confidence and leadership, yet he was always kind to the younger girls. She would never understand why he let her tag along with them, considering his protective nature, but she was grateful nonetheless.

"A little young to be at the bar, aren't you, kiddo?" Hunter asked, setting his hand on Althea's head.

The medic sat up. "Mira said the exact same thing." She huffed before muttering, "I swear, you guys deserve each other."

A nervous laugh left Mira's mouth before she could stop it. Althea looked at her, then at Hunter.

The sergeant had stiffened, and despite the black ink covering half his face, there was a faint red tint. Althea narrowed her eyes. She didn't know Mira too well, but she knew Hunter, and this was weird.

Omega had noticed it as well. She glanced between the sergeant and the assassin before her chocolate hues met Althea's bright ones.

"Riiiiight...." Althea slipped from her stool and moved between the two adults. "I'll just go and see if Tech needs help now."

The pilot had been repairing the ship from their last job with Echo. Wrecker was helping them with the heavy lifting as well.

"I'll go," Omega chimed in, standing to follow the older girl.

"I thought you wanted to play more?" Hunter asked her.

The blonde looked between Mira and her brother. "That's okay."

Great. Mira thought. Just when I couldn't feel any more awkward.

Once the two girls were outside, Althea looked at the younger. "That was weird, right?"

"Definitely!" She agreed. "Why was Hunter looking at her like that?"

Althea frowned. "I don't kn–" She stopped a sudden memory surfacing. "Oh no."

"What is it??" Omega pressed.

"Hunter was looking at her like how my dad would look at my mom." Althea grimaced and stuck her tongue out.

"Your parents?" Omega asked. "That means..."

"He likes her," Althea whispered.

Omega raised a brow. "But you can like people without it being...that. I like you." 

Althea shook her head. "No. He like likes her. Like ‘Lets get married’."

Omega scrunched her nose. "Ew."

"Yeah."

A beat of silence passed between the girls as they approached their ship. Althea put her hand on Omega's shoulder, stopping her. "We can't tell anyone."

"Why not?"

"If Hunter likes Mira but she doesn't like him, it'll break his heart. We can't let it get back to him that we know."

Omega hummed, nodding. Neither girl wanted to see Hunter hurt, so they made an unspoken pact.

Meanwhile, in Cid's parlor, Mira was trying to keep her cool. The girls had left her high and dry, leaving her with an incredibly attractive man she could barely exist around.

"So, they just left," she said in attempt to start conversation.

Hunter kept his gaze on the bar, refusing to meet hers. "Yep."

He always kept his cool during missions and jobs. He never got flustered, yet around Mira it was like he completely forgot how to act.

"Any idea on what the girls are up to?" She asked him.

The sergeant shrugged. "Thea mentioned helping the others on the ship. But I wouldn't be surprised if they found something else to occupy their minds."

"How would you feel about me teaching Althea about poisons?"

Hunter turned his gaze to the assassin before him. "What?"

It was Mira's turn to shrug. "She's been asking me about it lately, but I didn't want to infringe on any rules you had." Her heart rate kicked up. "I mean– I know you guys are close and I didn't want to take away time or anything..."

Hunter stared at the woman. She was asking permission to teach Althea about poisons because she didn't want to break rules or infringe on their relationship?? This had never happened before. Anyone else would have gone behind his back, including his brothers.

She stood there nervously, her beautiful brown eyes watching him warily. Of course she would do something unlike Hunter had ever heard of. She was unlike anyone he had ever met. 

His own heart rate kicked up a notch, his face flushing as he answered her.

"Yeah, I'd think that'd be great."​​​​​​​