#he can say as much as he likes but his actions are what matters

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

Ruffled Hair and Genuine Smiles

Riddle x !Mother Figure! Reader (platonic)

It was after Riddle's overblot, when you crouched next to him on the ground as he cried and gently wiped his tears before offering the warmest hug he's ever gotten in his life, that he first felt that warm feeling in his chest.

You went on to offer to help him make the tart Ace demanded as an apology; pointing out that Ace had plenty of help making his and therefore Riddle deserved at least one person to help him.

When it came to baking the tart, Riddle had that unfamiliar, warm feeling in his chest the whole time you two were working.

You giggled when he got flour on his cheek, and when he pouted, you smudged some on your own as well so the two of you would match.

Riddle was stunned by your action, but he found himself letting out the most genuine laugh he's laughed in ages.

When Riddle mentioned the oyster sauce you gave him a strange look before shrugging and telling him to go ahead and add it. (It would he Trey, the one who told him this little 'trick', that would be tasting the consequences)

You could see Riddle trying his hardest to be better after his overblot, so you made sure to let him know you saw his efforts. Sometimes you did this with words, and other times you did it by fondly ruffling his hair.

It doesn't matter if you're all that much older than Riddle or not, at this point he was starting to unconsciously see you as a mother figure.

On the rare occasion that he didn't already have his tie tied perfectly and positioned just right, you would come up and do it for him. (there's that warm feeling again)

On test days you'd meet up with him after school to see how he did. When he did well you hugged him happily. When he did poorer than he hoped, you still hugged him: reassuring him that this wouldn't be the end of the world. "We all fall short of our goals sometimes. It's a part of life and it's how we learn. Look at your test. The ones you got wrong are marked. You can take this information and use it to do better next time. You know what you struggle with, so work on it. There will be plenty more tests for you to ace in the future, but you won't be able to do so if you allow yourself to be put down by this one. I believe in you, Riddle; and I'm proud of you whether you get 100% or not."

Riddle was stunned by your words and ended up crying in your welcoming arms for a second time.

Anytime he would slip up and get angry, you'd gently calm him down and help him find a better solution than yelling.

Anytime the Equestrian Club would have a competition of some sort, you'd be in the front row of the crowd: camera in hand. Somehow, he could always hear your cheers over the rest of the crowd.

Riddle somehow got a button torn off his uniform jacket once, and you offered to fix it for him. The next day, you showed up to Heartslabyul bright and early in the morning (with the slightest dark circles under your eyes from staying up all night making sure your stitches were perfect) Jacket in hand.

He didn't realize until later in the day when he reached his hand in his pocket that you had left a little note. "Have a good day, Riddle! Good luck on your test! :)"

Anytime Riddle would have to call his mom, and inevitably be left upset afterwards, you'd always be there for him with your arms open.

"Oh" he thought, finally piecing his feelings together. That warm feeling in his chest every time you did something for him that showed him you cared. . .that's what it's supposed to feel like to be loved by a mother. Not cold and harsh. Soft and warm.

Nobody dares utter a word when they see the usually uptight Riddle not so discreetly looking for you after class on test days: 100% score in hand. Nor do they utter a word when they see how excited he looks when he finally finds you and shows you the test. And they certainly don't say anything when you get away with ruffling his hair and giving him a soft hug.

"I'm proud of you, Riddle." This is a sentence his real mother has never once uttered to him, at least not genuinely. It's come to the point that any time he hears those words he can't help but feel inadequate. That's what his mother always made him feel when she said those words in that ingenuine tone of hers.

But when you said it?

When you said it in that oh-so-gentle tone with that oh-so-genuine smile. . .

Riddle felt love

He finally felt like someone was truly proud of him, and he was proud of himself too.

He accidentally calls you mom once, but instead of looking at him disgustedly or yelling at him as he expected; your laugh flows airily through the air like a wind chime. It's not in a condescending way, but rather one that conveys a sense of fondness. You simply ruffle his hair and smile.

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[samhadjblog2]

O.k with VI and Caitlyn you have an interesting point. However I would still argue that while rooted in their own personal goals. And sure it can be a read that "both cities should come together". However its not an indication that "The cities will come together due to saving the world". Because Vi and Caitlyn coming together is meaningful while how the two cities come together in the end is contrived.

You keep on saying "Silco and Jayce's conversation"Was foreshadowing" and I'm telling its not a We must unite against a common enemy" its "This is a city of progress and we must try to progress forward" and as I've stated before its "One scene" nothing else indicates these thing. And Ambessa being introduced doesn't change that because Arcane was a multifaceted story that didn't have a "Central antagonist" that everyone would rally against. Its like saying "Silco was the central antagonist" because he did awful things. . The same can be said with Ambessa she wasn't there to be "The bad guy everyone rallied against" she was just some who would escalate tension between the two cities. Show's with political conflicts often times introduce new characters late in who aren't there to be someone the characters rally against but instead are there to create more tension.

While Yes the hexcore was dangerous however I would argue that it was there for Viktor's development. Because he was going to go down a dark path. And even then "The Hexcore isn't what caused the apocalypse in the end " it was the anomaly that did it".

The story didn't naturally moved into that direction. The story forced itself into specific direction. A big issue people had with season 2 was that a lot of the character's lack a lot of agency and things just happened to them. Even if you want to argue that "This was always planned" it still doesn't take away the fact that so much of it still falls into what the writers were trying to avoid.

Christian and Amanda are talking about how things that involve "End of the world stakes" are not compelling because they don't tell us anything about the characters. It doesn't matter if this was "The Consequences of the characters actions". It was still the same kind of "War story" that they both talk about not being "Character driven".

Also with that in mind Viktor only tried to end the world because Jayce was too stupid to not just talk it out with Viktor when his commune was fine and he was still connected to his emotions. His "despair of humanity isn't built on anything meaningful"(Just to note that I'm not against Viktor going bad just that how the show executed it was dumb).

Yes the show is called "Arcane" however that never meant that it was "Always going to be the main focus of the story" the focus was the characters and political strife of the city. The way the Arcane was used in the first season was grounded and how the characters utilized were more small and practical. Yes Ekko builds tje Z-drive and Viktor becomes a machine herald. However how they accomplished these things in their original lore was small scale and didn't involve big things like the multiverse. Ekko made it from some scraps and didn't involve multiverse hopping. And the extent of what Viktor did for the Glorious evolution was just go around and healed people, and didn't trying to create a giant hive mind to connect everyone in the world. So while magic was prevalent that didn't mean the focus would be "larger then life ideas". That was the appeal of the series that it was just small piece of a much larger world, and just bringing in things such as "Viktor being the wizard" and "The Anomaly" all just make it feel so much more small and less unique to the rest of "Runeterra". Hell i'm not even saying it was bad that there was a big battle in the end. Just that having the conflict be "Saving the world and we must unite against it" makes everything so nebulous and empty. It also doesn't help that they try to add in all of these big ideas alongside

Also yes this ending was a big ol "Age of Ultron". That film had "philosophical ideas and interpersonal character conflict, however it tries to accomplish this through nebulous end of the world scenario's and big fights, heck it also has the same "Consequences of our actions" sentiment that you keep on mentioning. So its not too different to the finale.

Vi and Jinx already reconciled things before and there fight with Warwick felt so empty (Warwick was just an excuse to get the sisters to talk to each other again without addressing there issues. All he did was "beast out" in one episode, and then things just happen to him and he doesn't get to make any meaningful choices of his own accord and is just reduced to an empty shell). Also we just get another moment where Vi just reacts and breaks down from loosing her sister "Again". (Man Vi was just a punching bag that was tossed back and forth through out the season).

Mel and Caitlyn fight against Ambessa was alright. However doesn't the whole basis of Mel defeating her mom just "Continue the cycle of violence, because she managed to defeat her mom through violence and which leads to ambessa coming and calling her 'The wolf".

Viktor and Jayce's was just really dumb. Having the wizard turn out to be "Future Viktor" make no sense. The only reason the "Glorious evolution" even happens is because "He gave Jayce the stone" in the past so why bother giving him the stone. Also if Jayce knew about Future Viktor why didn't immediately tell Viktor this ? All the events in "The Dark future" only happened because Jayce shot Viktor (No the acceleration rune didn't change anything. If you back to the dark future you see not only "The Noxian fleet", "A mannequin that has the same broken eye as Caitlyn", The same busted clocktower that Ekko busted", and "We see Jayce in the same position as his future counterpart on top of the Hex-gates, The device that could only of been built if Jayce got the acceleration rune" so no the loop doesn't make sense). And all we get is this weird nebulous conclusion where they hug together and just disappear ? That was one big lipped alligator moment.

As for the "Regular people who died". back to my point about "War ending stakes are not interesting". And so Characters like Loris and that one Jinxer dying feel empty. (It doesn't help that Loris was a nothing burger character).

The problem of the "Sevika seat" isn't that it didn't resolved everything. Its that the conflict of Piltover and Zaun was dropped around episode 4. And so we see the story "Ending on the note of Sevika joining the council". It doesn't feel like a meaningful first step that will have some pushback, it rather just feels like a "Cheap way of resolving the conflict". So to people it comes off as it "Did" resolved the conflict (it also feels cheap that this all we get of Sevika in the series after episode 4, I know she was in the final fight as well at Jayce's meeting but it such a brief moment). I just think instead the big final battle that get's the characters together. The final conflict should the inevitable civil war between Piltover and Zaun. And in between that war we see Jayce and Vi try to prevent it from breaking out and we get moments similar to Jayce deal with Silco were they try to reach an agreement. And the finale is more dedicated to the characters understanding how shakey these choices are and are navigating their feelings on the matter. That my friend "Realistic and grounded". Not Big giant battle then one person on the seat.

Yes Arcane was about "The cycle of violence and how the characters break away from it (remember hallucination Silco said it began long before he Vander and will exist long after Jinx and Vi). As well as how the characters "Somewhat" became who they are in LoL. However to say that the show was "Never a story of class conflict is a absolutely not true". Arcane made it clear that the "Cycle of violence originates from the establishment of class hierarchy". We also see how hierarchy influence the characters. And how it drives their motivations. The conflict of the two cities cut both ways the character's influenced the world and the world influenced the characters. To act like that's all the setting was meant to do is just not true.

“What happened to rebel Vi? Season 2 destroyed her character!”

“What happened to rebel Vi” is that Vander took her to the bridge where her parents died in his revolution and asked her what she was willing to lose. Then she meets Cait who is gentle and kind while still being tough and it makes her rethink how she sees topside. When Jinx tells her she changed too, that’s what she’s talking about.

I’m sorry if you thought Vi was going to be a topside-hating revolutionary in Season 2, but that’s clearly not where her character arc was going. Remember how she forced her way between Ekko and Cait? It seemed very straightforward that was the role her character was taking on.

I feel similar about people who act like the show was betraying its premise because it ended with reconciliation/Zaun and Piltover working together. Again, the fact that two of the most important relationships were between characters from both sides and that they made a point of talking about Zaun and Piltover first coming together against a common enemy was a pretty clear indicator that was the plan.

Now, I get being annoyed that that was what they chose to do. You don’t have to love the creative decisions of media, just like media doesn’t have to compromise its creative direction to satisfy you. But not liking that they went that direction is not the same as the show having bad writing or engaging in character assassination.

Everything Vi did in season 2 was very much in character with how she changed and who she became throughout Season 1. Hell, she used enforcers and Hextech to raid Shimmer facilities before Commander Kiramman ever threw on a beret. So, yes, actually wearing the uniform was a huge and complicated decision that she was definitely not happy about, but it also fell in line with what she had been doing.

There’s meat for another post at some point about the three different Zaun/enforcer partnerships we see in the show: Vander/Greyson, Silco/Marcus, and Cait/Vi; but I’m not going to go into that now.

TLDR: “Rebel Vi” who wants to fight all of topside hasn’t existed since the end of the second episode of the show.

Editing to add that Vi doesn’t see attacking Chem Barons as attacking Zaun; she’s taking down the people who are destroying Zaun.

[aventurineswife]

Hii! I hope you're having a nice day :D

Can I please request SAHRS being able to listen to Reader simping over them during gameplay? How would they react to their creator swooning over them?

Anyways, remember to drink water and eat something if you haven't yet! I love your writing style <3

My back... 😔🙏

It starts as a normal day. The Museum of Divinity is quiet, the stars shine as usual, and the characters go about their routines.

And then—

"OH MY GOD, LOOK AT THEM. THEY'RE SO FINE."

A pause.

Everyone stops moving.

Wait.

Was that… you?

The divine, all-powerful Creator… SIMPING???

Chaos erupts.

Welt: Drops his pen. Adjusts his glasses like he misheard something.

Himeko: Chokes on her coffee.

Himeko's smirk is IMMEDIATE. "Oh? You have favorites, dear Creator?"

Welt tries to act composed. But his ears are red.

They both pretend to be unaffected, but inside? SCREAMING.

Blade STOPS FUNCTIONING.

"Did… did they just call me fine?"

He won't admit it, but his grip on his sword tightens.

Dan Heng freezes mid-action.

If you’re swooning over him, his face is burning.

If you’re swooning over Blade, he glances at him with mild betrayal.

They don’t speak about it. But they think about it. A lot.

Aventurine? Smug. So smug.

"Well, well, well… seems like our Creator has excellent taste."

Sunday? LIVING FOR IT.

"Oh? You adore me so? Say more, divine one."

Sunday basks in your words. Aventurine teases relentlessly.

If you simp for someone else?

Aventurine: "A shame. You could have had me, dear Painter."

Sunday: "A tragic oversight, truly. But worry not! You may still admire me."

They’re never letting you live this down.

Kafka smirks immediately.

"Oh, how cute. Do go on, dear."

Black Swan tilts her head, thinking deeply.

"A divine being… capable of adoration? Fascinating."

They start analyzing every word.

How often do you compliment them?

Which characters do you favor the most?

What tone do you use? Flustered? Playful? Devoted?

Kafka savors every second.

Black Swan tries to understand why your affection feels so… real.

Luocha bows slightly. "A rare honor to be admired by divinity."

He’s calm outside. Internally? He’s thinking about it too much.

Jing Yuan chuckles. "You wound me, dear Creator. I had no idea you held such affections."

Lazy smirk, but his heart skips a beat.

If you simp for someone else?

Jing Yuan: "Truly a shame. I thought I was the favorite."

Luocha: "Ah… I see. A tragic fate, indeed."

They’re too smooth about it, but deep down? They’re blushing.

March 7th: SHRIEKS.

"OMG, SAME."

Sparkle: LOSES HER MIND.

"Finally! The Creator speaks the truth!"

They immediately gossip.

If you simp for Jing Yuan? → "I KNEW HE WAS A CREATOR FAVORITE!"

If you simp for Blade? → "Oooo, the dark and broody type, huh?"

They’re so entertained by your reactions. They start listening in more often.

EVERYONE starts listening more carefully.

Characters start acting up more in battle, hoping you’ll say something again.

Some get competitive. ("You called THEM fine? What about me?")

Some get smug. ("You’re completely obsessed with me, aren’t you?")

Some get flustered and pretend they didn’t hear it.

No matter what—

You can NEVER take it back.

Okay guys, no more SAHSRAU anymore. It was fun knowing everyone of you. We shall meet next year 🥰💖

[kisssukuna33]

Exboyfriend Satoru! Who still keeps the secret polaroids he took of you when you weren't looking, safe and sound in his wallet. Nobody is taking those precious memories away from him.

Exboyfriend Satoru! Who stole few things from you, The day before you decided to move out of your shared apartment and call the relationship quit on a mutual agreement.

They are small and irrelevant things,maybe that's why you didn't even noticed them missing in the first place. A hairband, a pair of blue flower earrings he always loved seeing on you and a old worn out shirt of yours that had stains and stretches all over it

They are special to Satoru because they carried You

They carried your scent, They carried your warmth, they carried your familiarity that he would die to feel and embrace again.

Exboyfriend Satoru! Who finds it exhausting to come to an empty home. A little while ago the darkness and the bitter silence won't be the ones welcoming him when he opened the door. A soft giggle followed by a warm kiss to his cheeks, gosh how he miss those days.

Exboyfriend Satoru! Who hasn't gotten a good sleep in weeks since the breakup. They say people fall asleep in the arms of their lover quickly, maybe it was right all along but Satoru knows he can't wish for those luxuries to be back. However what he truly wishes is for you to stop haunting in his dreams. Appearing in his dreams, looking at him with the same smile he used to adore on you so much. It's worsening the heartache he already have. He hopes you won't be that cruel.

Exboyfriend Satoru! Who keeps himself distracted with his job. Taking in missions more than he normally would. But it ends up draining his energy instead making people around him a bit concerned by his unusual behavior.

Exboyfriend Satoru! Who doesn't know how he's going to break the news to the students that you two broke up. Students loved you. Hell Yuji, Nobara and Megumi adored you! Satoru takes a deep breath as he calm himself before opening the classroom door.

Exboyfriend Satoru! Who wants to hold your face in his hands again. To kiss it, to touch it, to caress it while he pinches your cheeks randomly so he can kiss the little frown appearing in your temple later.

Exboyfriend Satoru! Who knows there's no going back when he sees you inside a bookshop with a random guy around his age a month later. You were smiling at him excitedly, showing him the books you chose. An action that is too familiar for his taste.

Exboyfriend Satoru! Who wants to snatch you away the moment he saw you with that guy. You were supposed to be his. What you two had were special like no other, random guy can't compete with that. His inner voices says to him.

But you see Exboyfriend Satoru! is a loser who already accepted his defeat. That's why he turns away from your direction instead of confronting you. No matter how much his heart burned for him to get back to you, the love of his life.

Exboyfriend Satoru! who thinks the scars he gets from missions have been hurting more lately, maybe the key to healing them wasn’t his cursed energy all along, but the soft kisses you used to press against them after murmuring a wish for him to heal faster.

Exboyfriend Satoru! Who finds himself looking out the window every single night recalling the memories from his past while keeping the hairband he stole from you in his hands, playing with it mindlessly.

Exboyfriend Satoru! Who hates, no loathes it when your scent slowly started vanishing from his apartment, even from your shared bedroom.

Exboyfriend Satoru! Who hugs your torn out t shirt hoping to smell your scent again but he has been hugging the t shirt to sleep for a good while now so the t shirt just ended up smelling like him.

Exboyfriend Satoru! Who feels like he has gone crazy when he finally realize you are completely slipping away from his life. But he can't do anything other than look at the pictures of you together, yearn for the good days to be back.

Exboyfriend Satoru! Who admit it was his fault that your relationship turned out the way it is. If only he payed attention to you more, if only he stayed beside you more,if he only listened to your cries more, if he only took care of you more, if only there wasn't a big burden to carry himself with, if only the situation was entirely different.

If only he wasn't the strongest.

Oops Angst

[redsrooftopprincess]

Chills

Raphael xGN!Reader

The sound of the evening bustle transitions the city from day to night, seeming to herald the neon darkness, and you smile to yourself a little more with every streetlight that flickers on. If he isn't already, he'll be on his way soon, ascending with the darkness, rising like steam from the tunnels below. Up, over, and above the rooftops.

Standing at the window, looking out into the blooming night, you tug on the latch. It's easier to open now, the action smooth besides the slightest catch. You remember when it used to stick horribly. And you totally didn't use it as an excuse to keep him longer when you first met, why would you think that? But time, and an abundance of use, has left it opening easier these days. (Either that, or it's about to break. You may need to talk to Donnie about that.)

It's only been a week since you saw him last, both of you having been busy with work, and separately, both of you have been feeling the distance. Calls and texts can only do so much when your body is screaming for someone. There's this itch. This need. You'd been friends for a while, but a week ago everything changed.

It had been a normal night. Nothing out of the ordinary. It was your night off, and you'd been looking forward to it because it meant he'd be coming by on his "lunch break." You loved nights like this. When it was just the two of you on the rooftop in the wee hours of the morning. When even The City That Never Sleeps is quiet.

It was magical. Like you were alone in the world. In those small hours there was freedom. Unconstrained by propriety, acceptability, and expectation, you could just... exist for a little while, side-by-side with someone you know you're safe to just exist with. Being beside Raphael is like being in the eye of a hurricane. No matter what chaos is spinning around you, Raph is peace. Home. Clear skies, and safety. And that night, the weight of your gratitude pressed heavy on your chest.

It did that sometimes. He'd do something, or say something, or even apropos of nothing, your heart would swell and your chest would ache with something beautiful and profound, and you'd need to be close to him.

It's the feeling you'd always imagined having with... someone. This peace. This pain. This is what you'd been chasing in every failed relationship. It wasn't until recently that you realized you have a type. You're drawn to fire. To passion. The problem with that type, is that those that carry fire inside them... tend to be explosive.

The last one was a couple of months ago. You had to spend a good three hours trying to convince Raph not to kill the man who'd put his hands on you. In the end, he wheeled away, breathing, with only a broken spine.

You took a deep breath, exhaling into the night, and laying your head against his arm. He responded by sliding that hand around your waist, and pulling you closer. Not lifting from his arm, you turned your face upward to find him already looking down at you.

You can't help the smile that blooms across your features, "What?" you challenge, lifting your chin.

Usually, at this point, he would clap back with something sassy, or suck his teeth and look away, feigning indignation. But that night he just... looked at you. A quiet smile on his face, feeling his own flood of gratitude blooming in his chest, warming him from the inside out.

He'd always dreaded the day when he would fall in love, if it ever were to happen, that is. He knew it would hurt all the more because he couldn't act on it. But then you happened. He'd love to hate it. To hate you for making him feel it. But the day he realized he was in love with you, it didn't hurt. And he could act on it.

Maybe not fully. Maybe not entirely the way he wanted, but love is an action word, and he loved you every single day with every last piece of him. Calling you at work to make sure you'd eaten, walking you home, being there to pick up the pieces every single time someone or something tore you apart, Raphael loved you. Completely.

He couldn't hate it, or you. You'd come into his life and he'd let your light fill him, and warm him, and in the end he didn't care what you called it, or what it looked like, you were a part of his world and he was grateful. But some nights, like that night, his heart ached, heavy with all the love he could never give you.

His smile became almost sad, and he turned to look back out into the darkness. You saw it. You always did. The blue-black flicker of mourning set deep within his amber eyes. He couldn't hide. Not from you. You never mentioned it. Whatever it was, it was deep, and important, and belonged to him, and you had no right to know if he didn't want to tell you.

But, for some reason, that night, you couldn't bear it. Even if you couldn't help, he should at least know that you care. That you see him.

You sit up, pulling yourself from his arm and nigh hovering over the edge of the rooftop to face him. You reach up, gentle fingers brushing the side of his jaw "No really, what?"

He returned his gaze to yours, still wearing that sad smile. "Nothin'," I love you... "I just..." I love you... The blue-black in his eyes poured into you then, as he drew a deep breath, and his eyes softened as yours stung, "Nothin'." I love you...

He looked at you like the sun through a sewer grate. Like he longed to bask in you, but had convinced himself he was content with the smallest break in the shadows. Like that's all he was worthy of. It was the first time you saw it. Really saw it. Deep red in the blue-black, his own beating heart, and you.

Your fingers trailed down his jaw, and it was everything he could do not to lean into the touch. When they whispered over the scar on his lips, his eyes fell closed with a soft sigh. When his eyes opened again, they held a deep pain, and a question he was unworthy of asking.

He reached up and took your hand, his lips longing for the taste of your fingertips, and resisted the urge to kiss each one. His thumb bushed over your palm, and down your wrist, scattering gooseflesh down your arm and across your chest, as he held your gaze. He couldn't help it, the hand on your waist tightened and pulled you closer.

Every sweep of his thumb over your pulse drew shivers from your skin, and as he took notice, the question in his eyes became clearer.

I love you...

Will you let me...?

You held his gaze. You hadn't been looking for this. This feeling. This want. With every inferno that you'd allowed you consume you, you hadn't been chasing this.

You'd been chasing him.

And, your eyes held the impossible answer.

Yes.

The hand holding yours pulled you to him and the one around your waist pulled you up, as he captured your lips with his. Both of your arms looped round his neck and his hold on your waist tightened as he kissed you deeply over the edge of the rooftop.

Almost floating in free space, all you could feel was his body on yours, scales cooled by the night air sliding against bare flesh, he was all that tethered you to the earth. He usually was.

Opening to him, your tongues tangled in a dance older than time, and his hold tightened as a thunderstorm gathered in his chest. Every gasp and quiet sigh carried that storm into your own, as you pressed against him and his churr deepened.

It could have been a few minutes or an eternity, and it wouldn't have been long enough. You parted, foreheads pressed together, grinning, laughing breathlessly, in equal parts relief and disbelief. It was like breaking through surface tension. The weight of want had lifted, and you both were almost dizzy with the oxygen high.

Leo had called not long after, and it was like being dragged away by chariots, but, duty-bound, he went.

The sun now, officially, below the horizon you look out over the living room, almost nervous. Dinner and a movie. A pretty typical (if rare) night off for the two of you. But you'd taken your time getting ready, and power-cleaned the apartment, despite the fact that he basically lived there, anyway.

A soft landing overhead draws your eyes upwards. You clear your throat and pull it together so that the moths swarming in your stomach don't cause you to giggle like an idiot. You manage to scale it back to just a grin, the window slides open, and he lands, meeting your gaze with a soft and deadly smile.

"Hey."

....

...

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[yougavememyopia]

OH MY GOD UR MASOCHIST YAN DRIVES ME INSANE TOO oh my god oh my godddd OOOOHHHHH MY GODDDD GFRRRGAVBNCJJSJKDKDOAODOOAKAKNFNHCHUEOROGLKSJSJHFJDODOAODI

wouldn’t it be so funny to imagine if crybaby yan and masochist yan had to fight over you somehow?? maybe a 3 roommate situation HAHA like masochist yan is so confident at flirting but you’re easily annoyed by him versus crybaby who struggles asserting himself but you have a soft spot for…. IM GOING CRAZYYUYYYYUSUDIAJOAOO

They would not get along.

Masochist yandere is mean to anyone who isn't you. He wants to isolate you as much as possible so he can have all your attention for himself and himself only. He wants to get rid of Crybaby yan as fast as possible. Get him evicted and then turn his room into a "game" room. But he can't. You actually like that pathetic mess for some reason he can't understand.

His go-to manipulation tactic is making you exhausted to resist. Constantly pleading. Talking your ear off so you have to agree with what he says. Still, you somehow remain resilient in your decision. No matter how much he tries to sugarcoat his words like always, or argue how Crybaby yan is literally a useless waste of space. You don't budge. Much to his demise, you threaten to kick him out instead.

Anytime Masochist yan did something that bothered his sensitive roommate, he'd get a scolding. Crybaby yan would aggregate his actions, just to get more of your pity. Burying his face into your neck and putting his legs around your waist. You'd shush him and pet his head, glaring at the guy who made him cry. He glares at you like, "Seriously, you're gonna take his side?"

If you start to doubt Crybaby yan, he knew exactly how to guilt-trip you. Puppy eyes. Pouty lips. Tears easily rolling down his cheeks. The perfect victim with his helplessness act.

As much as Masochist yan actually loves when you yell at him and get all angry, he doesn't like how the other boy was getting most of your time. He doesn't want to be just an annoying shit you bicker with. He also wants your affection— your hugs and headpats— his jealousy really obvious.

"So when I ask to cuddle, it's annoying. When he does it, it's adorable? That's not fair.... Augh! Look what you did. You made me cry! Is that what you wanted? Huh? Is that what you're into, you perv?"

He'd plop down beside you on your shared couch and grumpily look to the side. His whines stopping. You slowly thread your fingers through his hair like the other yandere lying on your lap. And just like that, he melts into you like a pudding. Shamelessly whimpering with his eyes closed. Brows furrow as he hugs your side tight. Eventually, they both learn to get along.

Unlike Crybaby yan—who doesn't openly talk about his feelings (unless it's saying how he doesn't want you to ever leave)—Masochist yan tells you exactly what he thinks. Even if not appropriate. He values honesty, so to him, being a tattletale is justified.

When you come home from a long day, Masochist yan is quick to give you a report of what you missed before you could even step inside.

Standing on his tippy toes to look taller and crossing his arms while he loudly began to speak. "The little creep you love so much sneaks into your room and smells your dirty laundry! Isn't he so gross? You're disgusted, right?"

Poor Crybaby yan looks paler than usual as he looks away from you with teary eyes. Unable to face you, dreading your reaction. Anger causes him to finally speak back against his irritating peer. "W-well, at least I don't s-steal the clothes like you."

"I don't steal, I burrow!" Masochist yan argues back, knowing well he doesn't have an actual point. "And I asked before I took something."

"A-are you serious? You ran away with it before you could get denied—"

"—Boys, boys, boys. That's enough!" You walk to stand between them abruptly. Arms on either shoulders, feeling their muscles tense up. "You're both in a lot of trouble, y'know..."

They glance at each other for a moment, then at you. Your playful words rousing sinful thoughts for one and petrified ideas for another. Different kind of scenerios of how you could punish them rushing in their mind. A playful hum and a scared squeak when you tug their arms and push them inside.

-----‐-------------------------------------------------------------

I WAS LITERALLY IMAGINING THE SAME THING!!!! LIKE THE EXACT. SAME. THOUGHT. Thank you for pulling this idea out of its dark bottomless pit~

[twistedpink]

Who’s your valentine? @/cafekitsune banner

And the spinner says…

Malleus + complicated + coparenting (modern!au, ~1000 words)

You never thought you’d stoop to this level- the dignified manager of a strip mall Spellphora reduced to this. Crying your eyes out to a telenovela with bad subtitles and an even worse plot. Totally freaking alone on valentines day. It’s your own fault, really. Maybe it’s all the karmic debt you’ve accumulated for working in a chain, or, maybe you need to manifest Malleus Draconia getting hit by a hoverboard harder! Bring on the subliminals, baby!!

That scandalously pretty (and formal in the same way a middle schooler with a briefcase is) Wand Topic goth held your teenage servicing heart and crushed it between his glossy acrylics.

You’re taking it back,, The hangouts, the free samples, and active use of your fucking email for anything but work! It’s all going in your flippy top Kuromi trash can (curtesy of he who shall not be named), and out of your stupid head!

Your notes app is full of amateur poetry and movie recommendations that you would never watch by yourself, because they’re all dumb and you hate it. You hate the whole five pages! But he made them good in the moment. With his cheating fairy makeup magic and inappropriately expensive earrings- he could make anything sound good. Why are all your situationships so profoundly dramatic and sad? Has no one heard of the casual fling to fifty year marriage pipeline??

At this point you wish he hexed you, then your insurance would fund some old fashioned retail therapy, but on your fourth Valentine’s Day alone it hits you. Maybe your shitty ex wasn’t that shitty. God, maybe he was right! All those burnt vapes gave him the clairvoyance to yell a prophecy at your kiosk before he stormed off with a barely safe amount of clearance lipgloss-

“You’re the problem”. (Subtracting the colourful language, obvi) And the only respite for your five month celibacy streak is the freezer burnt ice cream you’re shoving down your sorry gullet,, It’s not like it matters! If you get your way, he’ll never show his face again. As anyone in your position would, you sigh melodramatically into your teeny-tiny living room.

it feels so good that you dare doing it again, despite your uppity next door neighbours.

And the third one (which was going to be the best!) is cut off by a clunky knock at your storm door- it’s way too rainy to get mugged by the knee knocking cartel, but you open it anyways on the off chance Amazon has a gift for you. You cross your fingers for a hunky delivery man, ready to whisk you away from Netflix and mope!

But it’s not, because it just so happens goths are historically terrible at not moping- You look the soaking wet, insufferably sexy Malleus Draconia top to bottom in feigned judgement. From the tip of his embroidered Nurse Martens to the peak of his ebony horns catching rain like a Soda bottle to condensation, and back down to his hands cradling a travel crate like his life depends on it.

Damn, you’d still let him hit no matter what Cater says about his “Victorian girdle”..

“If I may join your evening to share it’s warmth with Gao-Gao, he would be quite grateful.”

And because you’re an aching hearted freak for wittle wizards (totally not to resolve your aching loins) (or the satisfaction of putting that self Defense baseball bat in action), you welcome the guys in with hospitality that would make Snow White weep

“Uh.. Duh! Sure, whatever. I have fresh towels. You probably still know where they are, haha..”

He gives you a grateful nod when you step aside, and the way he unfurls to full height after hunching over his precious cargo is always monstrously hot. You send yourself scrambling for the space heater (still very much vibrating from the inside, with a little ice cream crusted on your lip), no matter how embarrassed you are, Gao-Gao does not deserve to die from the cold! Malleus told you once the gecko intends on going to Valhalla, and you insisted he’s owed it for being such a good boy! (you’re also inclined to agree with any man that has a ninety degree jawline)

Gao-Gao nuzzles against your pinkie affectionately when you put some powdered feed into his crate. He ate three days ago- and you know that because you’re his pet sitter. Holding onto the little guy was easy when Malleus was away- but on pickup when his little brother showed up he thanked you. Said that Malleus didn’t have any other friends, and you couldn’t just leave him to the “adult loneliness” wolves.. So you hung out with him for awhile, and he only got cuter. That’s where it exploded in your face.

It was never his fault. You just got a bad case of the feels- on a little work party when you got hammered, Malleus took the brunt of it. Cater cheered you on in your sexless, drunken rage so well that you just blocked the guy,, And you have no idea why he’s here now.

“So,,, what’s wrong? Why’d you show up?”

“I understand I was unable to text your phone, but we had scheduled a “hanging out”, and now we can resume watching cinema! Gao-Gao is very excited with the prospect.”

You let the silence linger- and not to be mean, either. You’re just marinating in your drunk stupidity. Poor Malleus has no clue what’s going on! His own phone goes out all the time, and it’s not like you canceled, or even officially quit.. This is the worst. Not even your last breakup (pretty bad), or telling Cater that he was demoted (he literally asked to step down. Still sucked) measures up. THIS is rock bottom.

But, you’re used to being on the bottom. From scraping your way out of college only to land some mall-cop ass job better suited to someone in their teens, and all those infamously bad guys you’ve groveled to. Only Malleus (sweet, old man in a young body Malleus) bothered to spend the time reteaching you that you deserve to be spoiled- you deserve friends, and fun, and so many more pet sitting gigs with pintrestable animals.

You’re worth it. Even if it’s complicated, even if you can’t have him the way you want right now, you’ve got the rest of your life to pull it off!

(And to unblock him. That’s probably a good idea.) So for tonight you’ll enjoy the temporary simplicity, and have an unforgettable time with your best friends.

“Yeah! Let’s totally watch some “cinema”, Mally. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Ah! A Happy Valentines to you as well!”

God this is scary!!!!!!!! I’ve never done an event before, so please leave some comments abt your feelings with it! Much love, thanks for reading <3

(My amazing beta reader @/Echosofmortality helped SO much with getting this published!)

[hitlikehammers]

astral cartography✨💫

“And I did always say, right, that tattoos are a map of what you love.” Steve kisses Eddie firm, not least in appreciation for shutting Dustin’s harebrained bullshit down. But that doesn’t solve his original mystery.  “These aren’t a map, though,” Steve taps one of the new spots, smaller but still at the neck. No rhyme or reason to it.  “They’re the start of one.”💖

rating: t ♥️ cw: post-S4, extensive tattoo/birthmark/scar appreciation, established relationship, romantic gestures, a soupçon of angst surrounding some necessary work on self talk/body positivity re: extensive canonical scarring (it’s hurt/comfort in full service of fluff, so), little ✨sprinkling (lol) of humor, softness ♥️ tags: boys being tactile as shit, steve harrington being the canonical reason anyone ever called them ‘beauty marks’, eddie munson’s philosophy of tattooing, falling deeper in love

for @steddielovemonth day three: "if there is love, smallpox scars are as pretty as dimples. I'll love your face no matter what it looks like. because it's yours.” —Stephen King, 11/22/63

For all the attention he has wilfully, consciously, and very intentionally given certain elements of his appearance, Steve’s never though anything really about the fact that he’s got enough moles to dress up for Halloween as a fucking chocolate chip cookie.

Like, they don’t bother him at all or anything, but he’s never really understood how a handful of people he’s been with have just…zeroed in on them. Got a little crazy about them. Tracing them. Licking them. Nipping at them so they look more red than brown for a day or two. Whatever, Steve’s always figured. Everyone’s got their thing, and this one costs steve absolutely nothing to indulge, and if there’s one thing Steve prides himself on that doesn’t rhyme with ‘hair’? It’s making sure his partners leave satisfied.

But then there was Eddie.

And Eddie has a…well, a umm…

If you looked up the word ‘fixation’ in the dictionary, Eddie definitely has that.

Probably looking up the word ‘fetish’ might not be too far off, either.

What it means that Steve gets a little hot under the collar of his polo when he so much as thinks about either of those facts is a word he doesn’t know and isn’t going to bother looking up because why the hell would he, when he can just turn to Eddie, and…

Eddie’s fetish-fixations aren’t idle things, guy’s a man of action. Steve’s not gonna pick a book over what he gets out of the bargain like…for anything.

Plus, better stated—now there is Eddie. And Eddie…isn’t going anywhere, ever, if Steve has anything to say about it.

And it doesn’t cost Steve anything to lie there under his boyfriend’s unwavering, devoted attention. Kind of actually the sort of thing Steve never had before this, before him, and got addicted to quick—and that shone hasn’t worn off one bit. Isn’t actually showing any indication of everwearing off.

And when attention grows more heated, grows more more, well, then…fuck.

Ha, ha, that’s: fuck. Literally.

Point is, Steve doesn’t even really notice all the little dots on his skin, but hell if he’s not reaping the benefits.

——

It’s also not really fair to even consider judging Eddie for his fixation with Steve’s collection of birthmarks. Because Steve’s got his own not-quite-but-close-enough-the-distinction-doesn’t-matter obsession with Eddie’s skin.

Notably, but not exclusively, with his tattoos.

And more than that? With his scars.

Which is something that kinda comes about…tumultuously. Steve can acknowledge that.

“It’s too fucking hot, dude,” he’d frowned, rolling over and plucking at Eddie’s soaked-through shirt; “and you’re sweating buckets here.”

Seriously. The mattress was gonna get ruined at this rate.

“Jeez,” Eddie had snapped, straight off the bat; “sosorry we don’t all have central goddamn air.”

Which: the government hadn’t sprung for that, no. But:

“Don’t try and pull that shit on me,” Steve bit back, plain and simple, and it cowed Eddie the way it sure as hell should: he knew better. He knew Stevebetter, by now. They’d been fucking for months, since Eddie got the medical okay. They rarely spent more than a work-shift’s length out of each other’s sight. They were both—for the first time Steve’s ever got to feel it, both of them, together—clear-eyed on the way to bonafide bone-deep love; saying it out loud for keeps, and soon. They slept together every goddamn night.

So yeah. Eddie knew better.

He curled farther from Steve, into himself, but Steve just followed, even if doing so kinda exacerbated his complaint about the heat as a matter of course. He molded himself around Eddie and pulled him into his chest so he could murmur into the wet curls plastered at his ear:

“I get if you don’t want anyone else to see,” because wearing a shirt in this fucking heatwave really only made sense for one reason; “I get if you’re not ready yet, or if you’re never ready,” and Steve meant that: if Eddie was never ready to show off the worst of his scars? Steve would stand by him every day for the rest of his days.

That was basically the rule for…most things, now. With Eddie.

“But I already saw all of it, babe,” Steve tried to reason, because it wasn’t even that Steve was uncomfortable, mostly-nude in the bed himself; it was that Eddie’s misery hurt in his chest and he just…maybe it was selfish, to want to cast it out, but he just didn’t want Eddie to suffer. Ever.

“I cleaned them at their worst, y’know? I changed the bandages, I saw—”

“How much they look like Frankenstein’s fucking monster?” Eddie’d halfway snarled it, and Jesus fuck, no.

No.

“How much they almost make me fucking start crying,” Steve was willing to admit it, out loud, for this specific purpose alone, which said a whole fuck of a lot—

“Because they’re goddamn hideous—” Eddie tried to derail him but that wasn’t happening. Steve was on a mission, here. And Steve didn’t commit if he wasn’t gonna see something through past the finish line, and in first.

“Because they’re so alive,” Steve pulled Eddie in tighter, pressed his lips into Eddie’s neck.

“You have them, and you’re warm here next to me, I get to hold you in my arms like this and your fucking heart’s still beating, when I was so goddamn scared it would stop because of how torn up all this was,” and Steve laid just his palm blind to the deepest cratering of flesh that’s concave to the bone a little, knew where it was by muscle memory alone and he could feel Eddie’s pulse hammering for the fear and the shame and what had sounded too much like self-loathing, that Steve hadn’t realized was still so strong: but now he knew it. Now he knew, and he’ll wasn’t going anywhere, so he was gonna be right there, watching and helping and coaxing a way through it however he could.

“But it’s fucking beautiful, and it’s not red and torn open and bleeding out to take you from me anymore,” and Steve didn’t even think to feel ashamed of it when his voice cracked around how he didn’t realize that sore spot was still so close to the surface in himself.

“But now it’s pink and healthy and it stretches when you breathe in, because you’re here and you’re alive,” and there came the crack again in Steve’s voice but he expected it that time, and smashed his lips to Eddie’s neck again as he moaned a little:

“With me.”

And he breathed there as long as it took for Eddie’s breathing under his hand at the scars in his side to even out, and he just…appreciated them. Because they’d done the unthinkable; doctors and surgeons and modern medicine, sure, yeah, them too, but Eddie’s own body—the very skin under Steve’s hands—had decided to say fuck the reaper and knitted itself together the best it could, and the best it could had led them both here, had led Steve in Eddie’s bed, and Eddie in Steve’s heart, so.

Steve thought every single one of those scars was goddamn magnificent. He’d praise each of them in gratitude, separately and painstakingly every goddamn day, if he thought it’d convey how thankful he was for the textured artwork of Eddie’s left ribs, the way his whole side stood like a permanent installation in celebration of what it meant to demand to survive.

“They’re so,” Eddie eventually whispered, and it sounded already like he was gonna say something kinda like the opposite of everything Steve saw, so—they’d deal with those mean thoughts later.

For the moment though:

“You know how you said you’d never seen the ocean?” Steve had said, knowing it would sound like it came out of nowhere, but it wasn’t. “And I promised I’d take you?”

Eddie’d just turned, stared at him like he was losing it which…was fair. But Steve had a point to it, promise.

“I’ve seen it though,” Steve had closed his eyes and the memories are hazy because they’re so old but the feeling of it: s’not something you ever forget all the way. “Couple times, just because my parents had to be somewhere and I was too young to leave alone when the babysitter cancelled last minute,” and he’d reached out slow, opened his eyes to watch Eddie every millimeter his hand moved closer to the collage of divots and skin grafting and stitched-together planes that pulled too far to lie even when the staples came out. Eddie tensed, held his breath—it wasn’t that Steve hadn’t touched him here, far from it, but so intentionally, so eyes-open—but he didn’t flinch. And he didn’t stop Steve’s hand from pressing down.

His breath did catch, but so did Steve’s, just for clearly different reasons as Steve delicately traced the scalloped edgings and whispered, didn’t even try to hide how it made him feel kinda-sorta awed:

“It reminds me of the tides.”

“The sand goes smooth under the waves,” Eddie shot back, but without heat, more just…defeated as he muttered on; “even I’ve seen fuckin’ movies.”

“But the foam, like, of the waves coming up,” Steve pushed back; “it’s so pretty, that’s the part I want your to see most because it was so long ago, and that’s what I still remember,” and he’d sighed a little, going back to that place in his head:

“It’s like layers, and all the motion of it lapping up the coastline feels like like you could just lose yourself in the rhythm forever and never climb out,” and he’d let his eyes open slow, and he’d caught Eddie’s own and let himself do the same inside that gaze until Eddie got the fucking hint:

He was just ad beautiful, as impossible, as incredible as those tides.

“One wave after the next, in turns, crashing so strong but it’s not, like, violent,” Steve had let his thumb trace the raised lines under his touch back and forth; “it’s magic.”

Like Eddie. Who tucked a little further into himself before he turned, jostled Steve’s hand then burrowed into Steve instead:

“It’s not even smooth,” he protested all muffled; “you can’t even—”

“My nan loved photos.”

Again, Steve was pretty sure he sounded insane. But again, he was building to a point.

“Not even ones she took, most came from magazines. She couldn’t travel like she wanted to, my Gramp was building businesses but my Nan wanted like, adventures and the sights. So she made scrapbooks of wishes, she called them,” Steve had smiled at the memory, until the next one washed it away:

“My dad thought she was a silly old woman. We didn’t see her too much, in the end.”

Steve missed her.

“But the most beautiful thing she showed me once was this one tiny island somewhere way far in the north, where the beaches were made of stones.”

Eddie’s turned a little, frowned. It gave Steve access to his side again, though, and that’s all he needed, but his hand right back on that tangled-perfect marvel of scar tissue and indomitable life.

“Not pebbles, but big stones,” and Steve had outlined the larger waves in the flesh like examples with his hands as he spoke. “No rhyme or reason. It was special, the place itself, like it had some historic significance or whatever, but,” and Steve had let himself work around one knot of tissue he knew caused pulling sometimes, just in case it could use a little loosening, a little extra love, and he’d fought a full grin when Eddie’d grunted and caved under the attention, eager for the relief.

“The picture she had was of the waves crashing over the ricks and,” Steve had worked more at the knot as he searched for the right words;

“It was like the could have been at odds, like fighting each other, but instead they were this marvel that people came from across the world to just,” and he didn’t still his hands at all, but he did lean in to kiss behind Eddie’s ear; “just to have the privilege to see.”

And Eddie had shuddered, and his breath had caught hard, and Steve had turned him in his arms and slipped his hands under that sweat-soaked shirt and held held, held him, held him.

“Nothing smooth about it, really,” Steve had mouthed against Eddie’s jawbone then; “think that was most of the point.”

And Eddie’d slept without a shirt the rest of the unbearable second summer, chest-to-chest so Steve could feel the scars straight to his own skin, and from there on, it was understood.

Maybe not for everyone, but definitely for Steve: they were maybe not quite welcome—yet—but definitely allowed to be worshipped for the proof of life, the gift of love that they fucking were.

——

The tattoos aren’t quite the same. Steve thinks that’s because they were something Eddie chose; the scars interfered, deformed—weren’t the marks in themselves.

But after getting the memo about how complicated the scars are, and knowing these marks are no longer unentangled with those ones?

Steve may be oblivious sometimes, but. Once he learns a thing—especially when it’s tied up with loving—he tends to remember.

“Do you mind, when I,” Steve pulls his head up to meet Eddie’s eyes from where he’d already been basically sucking the ghoul head thingy above Eddie’s pec into a purple shade for like fifteen whole minutes, like a free color-job. Steve does like to think Eddie could have stopped him—and definitely wouldn’t be so hard between where they’re pressed together—if he had had a problem, but.

Steve…likes to be careful. When there’s loving.

“Not at all, sweetheart,” Eddie fucking purrs, and Steve grins cheshire-sharp for it, pleased with himself. Hr actually kinda loves this particular tattoo especially; the scars that cut into it make it look like Mr. Zombie-face got into a nasty fight with Wolverine from X-Men—which yes, thank you Henderson, he already knew about before starting to screw your DM—but anyway.

“I just,” Steve traces one long scar of the three as he talks, tries not to grin too much when Eddie shivers, when his nipple proves it’s not too scarred-up to pebble under the attention fucking beautifully; “since you don’t want to get any more, and—”

“No, I don’t,” Eddie says simply, if a little breathy as he arches into how Steve does the same up what looks like the second claw mark, just a fingertip alone the line; “least not right now. But they’re still a map of the things with love, yeah? Present tense, past tense, it’s all a story.”

And that is…Eddie. That answer is so fucking Eddie.

And he’s worked so hard—both of them have—to say that kind of thing from a place where they could believe it, and damn if it doesn’t come out now like its said like a man who’s made his peace, and feels solid standing in it.

“And, like, maybe these are just ink from a really shitty apprentice artist,” Eddie taps at the weave of scars lower, the worst of them: his rocky beach on the waves, and fuck, if he’s willing to try even a kinda shitty joke about it all, in the privacy of their bed where there’s no need to fake it, or force it to make nice?

They really have made progress.

“Hmm,” Steve doesn’t take his hand from that second pseudo-claw mark but he does crawl down a little to get a better look at Eddie’s biggest set of scarring—not that he needs to, but if he’s gonna play alone he’s not gonna half-ass it, so he tuts a little and shakes his head regretfully:

“Honestly, I just don’t think the Upside Down has a real established scene to expect high standards,” Steve laments, shaking his head; “they can’t even keep the lights on down there, man, plus teeth for needles? Can’t be the best practice,” he sighs wearily. “Health code violations fucking everywhere, Robin would pass the fuck out—“

And maybe Eddie’s tackling him them, shaking with cackles as he takes the lead to pin Steve to the bed, sucks between the moles on his neck—perfect vampire bites, baby, marked just for me—and Steve maybe giggles for it, the impatience, the enthusiasm, the joy in the tussle. It’s basically perfect.

So yeah. Eddie’s as marked up as he’s probably gonna get, at least any time soon. Steve won’t let another round of violence touch him ever again, over his dead fucking body, and tats…maybe they’re gonna just stick with the story they’ve got on Eddie’s skin, close that chapter where it naturally turned a page.

To start this new thing, together. Where Steve leave the marks, and proudly, and touches them up as often as need be. With pleasure.

And if Eddie’s as happy about that as he currently looks, flushed and panting and far beyond ready to get on with more than sucking at skin?

Maybe that actually works out perfectly.

——

So, the point is, the love each others marks, the things that trace their skin to make them them, but blemishes but serial numbers: just more undeniable proof to celebrate the person they like most in the whole world.

Love most, as is becoming abundantly clear.

Which means they notice right away when so much as a bruise pops up from knocking into the kitchen table—but Steve’s not looking at a bruise.

He squints—this isn’t really a task he’d lean on his classes for but…so weird and also, odd fucking place underneath Eddie’s chin—

“Did your sharpie break?”

Because that would make sense. Eddie purrs on basically anything that can pass for a writing implement, if he gnawed to much, maybe he was lucky and the ink dribbled rather than sprayed.

“No,” but honestly, Steve is not convinced. It’s not a convincing denial, first off, but then on top of that, there’s more incriminating evidence:

“You’ve got marks, like, all over,” dark little speckles, like an egg at Easter before you dunk it in the bright vinegar water. It’s not sunny enough for his freckles to be coming out yet, is it?

“I do,” Eddie agrees, but kinda distant, like his head’s elsewhere. Steve looks up from where he’d become sprawled out over Eddie’s chest on the couch: he’s working on campaign notes and: oh look. Not a sharpie.

One of those Mr. Sketch monstrosities that smell like ‘fruit’ and everyone’s gotten high off of at some point, which 100% belonged to the school at some point, and 100% now has Steve’s boyfriend’s dental imprints on the end.

Steve just rolls his eyes and, which the colour still isn’t exactly—the speckles on Eddie’s skin really are a more chocolate brown—he’s gonna let this one go.

Maybe get up and make dinner or something, so he’s no stuck with that suffocating alcohol-licorice smell the black marker gives off.

——

“Are you sure you were using sharpie last week?”

Steve also means today. Or yesterday. Or right now. There are more…speckles.

He knows there are more of them.

“I didn’t use any sharpies last week,” Eddie shrugs, not looking up from his book but gesturing broad with his forkful of mac and cheese. “All mine are dried out and I keep forgetting to pick up new ones.”

Okay, well. That does track. He leans in closer, runs a finger over the first spot he noticed: same color, maybe a little less bold; the other ones look a little red around the edges, like when Steve’s moles get sucked at and—

“Look familiar?”

Steve turns, looks at Eddie who appears to have very quickly given up pretending not to care about the conversation. Steve blinks, looks a little closer, and…

That’s ink, alright. But it’s under the skin.

“I didn’t think you were gonna get any more,” Steve says, doesn’t expect his voice to be so soft. He doesn’t understand what they are, what they’re building up to be a part of but it looks like a big sort of project, and definitely in clearly visible places, so it feels worth some respect for the weight of the decision, what it means for Eddie who smiles small and nods; agrees simply:

“Me neither.”

“But, y’see, Henderson—”

“Ugh,” Steve groans because Dustin is, in fact, currently on his shit list. See previous ‘you only know that because you’re fucking my DM’ transgressions. Kid’s on thin fucking ice.

“No, no, it’s to a point,” Eddie soothes him, and it works, cause Eddie is always in his corner before anyone else’s, he killed Dustin’s character weeks ago and Steve still isn’t sure if Dustin’s stilll just watching when they get together, waiting to somehow find a narrative launch-point back into the action: “but he wants ink, which I told him, too fucking young,” and Eddie looks up to soak in the approval he knows is waiting for him in Steve’s eyes—he’s not wrong at all, and preens a little for it, too.

“But he was eyeing my bats, and he tried to say, well, what does it matter, they only meant something after,” and he gestures toward the bigger wound, the more unforgiving mark of bats opposite the still-fairly clean cookie-cutter type fliers on his arm.

“And that was just the dumbest attempt at an argument in his favor, because it not at all fucking true.”

For Steve’s part, it’s the one piece he’s never asked after. Too close to home. But he just figure…cool. Metal. Maybe about Ozzy.

“My mom used to read me nursery rhymes,” Eddie’s face goes so soft as his voice gets all fond, like it always does whenever Elizabeth Munson comes up. “Like, the old ones. And she did it way longer than probably most people, like, I was way too old for it but,” Eddie chews his lip and looks up at Steve like he’s confessing a secret:

“I just really loved it.”

Steve pushes and pulls Eddie a little until there’s the barest sliver of space at the back of the sofa for Steve to lie down in, wholly boxed in by Eddie’s weight, specially when Eddie rolls the priest bit into him to pin him close.

“My favorite one was about bats,” he whispers. “About hiding them from people who didn’t understand how nice they were, and how all they wanted as to do their thing, even if it wasn’t what everyone else liked, and be good for everybody by helping eat bad bugs or whatever,” he hums what Steve imagines is the rhyme; “so you put them under your hat, and give them bacon, and if they’re as good and as poorly treated for no good reason as you suspect is the case, you’ll bake them a cake. Because they deserve it.”

He doesn’t really have to say more for the connection to kinda stick out like a sore goddamn thumb.

“Couldn’t put it under my hat, but,” he ruffles his curls ruefully. “And I did always say, right, that tattoos are a map of what you love.”

Steve kisses Eddie firm, not least in appreciation for shutting Dustin’s harebrained bullshit down. But that doesn’t solve his original mystery.

“These aren’t a map, though,” Steve taps one of the new spots, smaller but still at the neck. No rhyme or reason to it.

“They’re the start of one.”

Steve frowns, so fucking confused, pulling back a little to try and see if he can read any answers from Eddie’s face.

But Eddie’s just smiling at him softer than he’d even been smiling before, thinking of nursery rhymes and the few good memories that came from the days before living with Wayne. He’s looking at Steve right now mostly like he hanged the moon itself.

“I’m gonna ask again,” Eddie breathes low, and grabs Steve’s cheek:

“Look familiar?”

And Steve, when it falls into place, doesn’t actually thing he should face any blame for not seeing it at first, or second, or even tenth glance. Because he’s never paid attention. Other people did.

But Eddie finally turns his neck and: vampire bites.

Marked just for me.

And then Steve starts touching each dot, and trying to find the sublest hint of a raise in the skin in the same place on himself. Every time, he finds it, some quicker with other slower, some needing him to look at the glass of the china cabinet behind the couch that’s never made sense there, but is reflective enough for the task and…they’re all there.

The marks aren’t…sharpie tips. They’re Steve’s, they, they’re all of Steve’s—-

“I love you something fucking fierce Steve Harrington,” Eddie bites out with what Steve gets the feeling is only a sampling of the very ferocity he’s speaking of; “and tolerating another second where I didn’t have you etched into my skin, the most important, most adored,” and Steve’s heart flips to hear it said so earnest, so felt full from Eddie’s heart:

“You not being on here was just fucking unacceptable.”

And goddamnit, Steve’s eyes are stinging. He, he’s…Eddie is…

“It’s like a star map,” Eddie murmurs, tracing the originals the way he often does, like connect-the-dots but reverent, always; “like how sailors navigated,” then he looks away, doesn’t move his hand but makes sure Steve meets his eyes:

“You’re my way home, because you are home.”

And yeah. No one could ever have expected him to hear those words and not let the waiting tears fall, okay? That’d be fucking insane.

His chest is so tight with so much right now, holy shit.

“All of it’s constellations made of you,” and he says that, too, has made up whole legends for the stars on Steve’s back; “so when I look at them, my heart’s always just that extra bit reminded where it’s meant to be, the direction it’s always gonna be headed, for forever.”

Steve’s breath catches loud and gaspy around a sob, and he’s not even speaking. What the fuck.

“Fuckin’ sap,” he says like it’s the highest honor he could give, and maybe here and now it is; “fuck, but love you,” and he draws Eddie in for a salty kiss that’s sloppy and heady and more heartfelt than Steve might just know how to stand.

When they finally part just for breath, Steve’s thumb is on one of the spots—on of the stars of the map.

“How,” he starts, because why, did he take a photo?

But Eddie just scoffs:

“Think I don’t know every inch of you by heart?”

And yes, of course that earns him Steve trying to suck his tongue from his mouth for the explicit purpose of his soul coming out easier for the way he kisses him deep as he knows how. And they do that, for a long fucking time because…

Steve’s kind of reeling. Steve’s never loved more in his life but then, but then—

No one has ever loved Steve even a fraction of this. Steve’s never had this, never known this. Steve…

Steve thought loving that big was his fucked up burden to bear, but now—

He’s not alone in how deep it rubs. How far he’ll go, and gladly.

What. The. Fuck.

Is this what a cheat is supposed to feel like, is this how normal people who love normal amount so that they get loved back the same got to feel all along?

Steve…almost doesn’t think so. Steve thinks this is what it feels like to love extravagantly and with more than your full self as a rule to the point of insanity for anyone on the outside looking it, and to fucking finally find your match for it.

And to know, then, that it was never crazy. It was only ever exactly right.

“Two more sessions, just for time,” Eddie nips at Steve’s lower lip, slick for spit and tears in equal measure.

“You’re unbelievable,” Steve gales, grinning wide enough it hurts.

“Hey now,” Eddie nips a little harder, narrowing his brow playfully; “I got the little one under your balls and the sprinkle set on your taint this last time,” and Steve can’t help himself.

He bursts out laughing so hard his sides ache.

“Even I needed a breather, sitting on that to drive home!” Eddie protests as Steve straddles him fully, properly, and…

Gets ready to read some fucking maps.

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here and here

[pink-slay]

arcane Viktor and likely spoilers for both seasons

I keep thinking about Viktor from arcane all the time and I've written poems and had lengthy conversations about it but decided that I need to state it in prose to on an account that I barely update because this account is full of things that mean something to me

I constantly think about the lengths Viktor went to to be well. The writers lured me in thinking maybe hextech or the arcane or shimmer would help Viktor's vision of running on a purple arcane body become a reality. However in the end viktor became equally if not more disabled than before. He lived, yes, but at what cost, killing Sky?

And I'm a believer in the mutual JayVik love and understanding, but Sky still mattered. She was brilliant and wonderful and kept Viktor grounded. Took his head out of his work and into the clouds (eventually literally).

Often, as disabled people, we are told that if we worked harder our problems could go away and it is a prominent belief in our culture, even if unconsciously so. I remember years ago Imani Barbarin made a video on how able bodied people want to believe they could work their way out of any disability by trying harder. They then project this onto disabled people to shield themselves from their inevitable fate (disability or death). This myth is pervasive and as much as I and many people want the betterment of all, perpetuating this myth, even in a fantasy story, is at best unrealistic and at worst problematic.

However, Arcane subverts this expectation because Viktor lives, but he lives a disabled life. He tried harder, and it tore him apart. To me this is a more powerful story than overcoming. Most can try, and most don't overcome not due to personal shortcoming but because trying harder ≠ getting better (at least inherently and especially with disability).

It reminded me of how in my freshman year of college, I dropped my math minor. It was upsetting and annoying because it was an attempt to hold onto the pieces of my first analytical love, math. However I didn't have the right wheelchair then and I didn't know it yet but I was becoming progressively more paralyzed. I just couldn't make it to the classroom they assigned me and they refused to change it.

I told my mother that at a certain point it felt more impactful that my disability made a noticeable impact in limiting me instead of trying to torture myself into narrative of overcoming. Not taking that first class was one of many times Calc II would get in my way, each time related to disability.

Viktor, like me, had a progressive disability that would've continued to progress until it killed him without drastic action. For me the drastic action was a surgery that made me be on constant opioids all summer and destroyed my relationship with my mother and the scraps of independence I still had. For Viktor it was taking shimmer and bearing the almighty power of the hex core.

I guess I write all this to say that my love of math and my disability parallel viktor. We have scientific loves and would work ourselves to death. We can be romantic when we get our heads out of our work. And we are disabled. Sick and disabled. So sick we put our lives at risk for health. Even a glimmer of health.

I know Jayce's speech is controversial among disabled people. I respect the opinions of others but I think many people don't get the experience of severe disability when interpreting it. In real life with the wide variety of disabilities, Viktor may not fall into that category but he surely does in Piltover. For me, my disability is severe. So severe I questioned if, as much as I looked up to Viktor, II could ever be respected like him. However disabled people don't become more respected by shunning nonambulatory powerchair users like me. They just isolate those that make up their community.

From a severely disabled person, understand that yes, I understand you want to fix yourself, but when you have a disability that at any point threatens your life, there is a certain ubiquitous self destruction in everything you do. That's why Viktor needed Jayce's speech. It wasn't because Jayce didn't see Viktor or his pain. Jayce knew Viktor was in pain. Jayce knew Viktor better than he knew anyone. And Jayce knew Viktor needed to be shown his value that was independent of effort--- his value as a person.

To be loved is to hear things that you can't fully wrap your head around. I believe (when I think really hard about it) that I can be who am both because of and despite my disability. I say to my closest friends that it feels like all I ever was was a miracle sick child who lived and a smart person. And I break off each quality about myself and my friend says that she'd still find value in me. Because there are people in our lives like Jayce or my friend who will give speeches to you, not to gain anything but to show you your worth even if it kills them. Because in every universe, sometimes there's only one person who can show you that-- who can stop you from ending the world even if it means succumbing to life and it's inevitable partner, death. Because the people we love don't want to see our sinews as we tear apart ourselves to breathe. They want to see us. They don't want us to suffer as much as we do. But for us there is a desire to be well. And that desire drives suffering it doesn't fix it.

Viktor meant a lot to me as someone whose life keeps changing especially in regards to their disability. Hesitancy toward drugs and spinal hardware and leg braces. And so did the way he almost destroyed the world craving something.

I have longed to be normal, to be well for most of my life. But life doesn't work that way. In fixing ourselvea and the things we view as flaws, we lose beautiful parts in the crossfire. Our friends beg us to see ourselves and if we're lucky our friends do. But so do we. I don't succeed but maybe Arcane has pushed me to see the beauty of being kind to myself because working myself into the ground isn't worth the pain especially with such a bleak unsuccessful outcome. We'll be told to fix ourselves forever but at least for once, in this one show, we can be valued despite our ardor for work. Yes, it isn't inherently wrong to want to be better. But we have lifetimes for that. Just this once maybe we can sit in the beauty of being loved both because

and despite.

[chvoswxtch]

It has been an expensive few weeks and despite being a very well educated scientist at a reputable institution, I make astoundingly little money. So I’d love to request a little action clip! I’m so taken with the idea of Frank just like casually stealing whatever money is lying around the place after he shoots up a mobsters joint and using it to help you with your bills 🤣

no bc why is living so expensive like where is the groupon for existing??

this one actually made me laugh bc I was thinking about in season 2 when he and amy go to that motel and he hands her that bloody wad of cash and she's like?? bitch what am I supposed to do with this??? and he's like???? pay for the motel dumbass

like he's so calm about it and truly does not give a fuck. he absolutely takes whatever money is lying around bc it's not like they're using it anymore 🤣 but ya know what, in this economy, vigilantism doesn't pay the bills (and neither does having a job apparently) so he's not wrong

blurb below the cut

the many saints of newark starring frank castle

The wad of cash that Frank pulled out and set on your dining table made your eyes widen. The faded green crumpled bills were speckled with what was undoubtedly blood. Staring up at Frank wide eyed, creases of confusion settled in your forehead.

“Where did you get this?”

“From someone that don’t need it no more.”

Frank shrugged off his jacket and walked over towards your kitchen, his heavy booted footsteps echoing on the worn wooden floor. You were still staring at him in incredulity. He’d just dropped what looked like a thousand dollars on your dining table with as much indifference as if he’d dropped a twenty dollar bill to cover take out for the two of you.

“Wha-, Frank, this is…what am I supposed to do with this?”

Frank turned his head to look at you over his shoulder, clearly perplexed by your question. Pursing his lips, he lightly scrunched up his nose and shrugged.

“Whatever you want. Get ahead on a few bills, buy some of that stuff that’s been sittin’ in your cart for weeks, save it, I don’t know. Your call.”

His casual behavior about the situation left you spiraling. You didn’t wanna know where this money had come from. You had an idea, but you didn’t need confirmation. 

“Frank…I can’t…shouldn’t we give this to the police?”

If he was perplexed before, he was full on confused now. He turned to face you fully, his expression twisted up like you’d just asked him the most ridiculous question.

“The hell would we do that for?”

“Well…because. It’s…I mean…isn’t it…like…”

“Sweetheart, it’s money. Money is money. Don’t matter where it came from or who had it. They ain’t got a use for it no more. Besides, better you have it and put it to good use than some crooked cop pocketin’ it, or it collectin’ dust in an evidence locker.”

Frank made a valid point. The logical part of your brain understood what he was saying. And it would definitely give you some breathing room, taking care of more than a few bills so that you could cut back a bit on how much you were working.

Sensing your confliction, Frank set the mug down on the counter and walked over towards you, lightly grasping your chin to get you to look at him.

“Look, only place that money is goin’ is in your bank account. Now either you can deposit it, or I’ll swipe your wallet and do it myself. But it ain’t goin’ nowhere else.”

You knew Frank wasn’t joking. And you knew you weren’t winning this argument. Letting out a quiet huff, you have him a pointed look.

“Yeah let me just stroll into my bank and hand them this bloody money. That won’t get me put on a watchlist.”

“For all they know the blood came from a papercut.”

Grabbing one of the bills and holding it up silently, as if to prove your point, you arched one of your brows. Frank glanced down at it, seeing the way crimson stained the faded green paper like confetti. Rolling his eyes, he swiped the bill and set it down on the table with the rest.

“For fucks sake, gimme your goddamn wallet.”

[writingsonsaturn]

all you had to do was stay

{ masterlist } { the 'taylor swift' series }

🪐 - the amount of re-writing i did for this one was crazy but hopefully you like a bit of this sadness

wc - 687

content warning: angst, break-up, emotional distress, mention of a death

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

To say you weren’t expecting Tim at your door at ten o’clock at night would have been an understatement.

He had called your relationship quits just short of two weeks ago, explaining the cliché of it being him and not you. Telling you he was sorry but simply couldn’t continue loving you. Your eyes stung at his words as you told him repeatedly to leave, to just get the fuck out, his over said apologizes ricocheting off your skin like a bullets hitting steel as you pushed him out the door and slammed it in his face.

You fell with your back against the door, you had felt as though your heart was ripped into halves and Tim took one side with him. You had a couple of sick days you haven't used up at work and decided then would be as good a time as ever. 

One full week of nothing but tears and the occasional contemplation of calling, or texting Tim but in the end deciding it wasn’t a healthy nor good option. However, you only allowed yourself one full week of sulking before moving on with your life, you didn’t want to fall into a pattern of bad habits. 

Although, some would argue forcing yourself only one week to grieve a long-term relationship is in itselfs, unhealthy.

So now after not properly dealing with the breakup and over-exhausting yourself with work, you were not pleased to see Tim. 

“What?’ you said in a harsh tone

“I needed to see you,” Tim explained with his voice on edge. 

You had to keep yourself from rolling your eyes and laughing humorlessly, “and why is that?” your voice clearly unimpressed. “It was a bad day at work, someone who looked exactly like you died and i just couldn’t get the thought of you out of my head” Tim finished with eyes red as rubies. The look in his eyes almost had you reeling him in, holding him to your chest and assuring him that you were okay.

Instead, your eyes only softened as you said “Tim i'm okay, but you need to go.” His heart was crushed hearing you say that, although he can’t say he didn’t deserve it. He destroyed you, with the only reason being he was too scared to fall in love again and besides telling you that, he shut you out. 

“Please, Y/n, can I crash here tonight” Tim nearly begged. He looked like he might soon be sick if you didn’t allow him in, but you couldn’t. After everything he did, and told you the night he broke up with you, you couldn’t accept him back in no matter how much he beggar or how much it hurt your heart to see him like this.

“This is so, so goddamn unfair Tim” you spoke with anger as tears appeared on your waterline, “this is what you wanted, and now yo-you think you can just come back when you need a ‘pick me up’?” you heard your heartbeat in your ears as you told him off.

“I know, I know baby-” Tim tried before you cut him off,

 “No, no you don’t get to fucking call me that, you ended it.”

The hope in his eyes dimmed out the moment he realized that it was, indeed, actually over. He did end it. All of this was because of him, your tears, your pain, every single thing, was his fault. There wasn’t anything he could do except sit there and take it.

“Listen, I had a long day too, so I need you to leave” you sighed out whilst rubbing between your eyes. Then, with one last look into your eyes, like he was searching for a reason to stay, yet all he could find was disdain and anger. So he stepped back saying a quiet “i'm sorry’ and walked away from your door with his hand on the back of his neck.

It seems like collapsing against an angry closed door was starting to become a recurring action, and you could only hope this would be the last time he showed up.  

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Wajahat Ali at The Left Hook:

Elon Musk showed the world that buying the U.S. presidency only costs about $300 million. This is like shopping at The Dollar Store for the world’s richest man. I grudgingly tip my hat to Musk, an immigrant, who is an aficionado of Nazi salutes much like his Hitler-supporting grandparents who moved to South Africa because they were inspired by the Apartheid regime. Musk’s $290 million was a small risk with a massive return on investment. Money alone didn’t move the needle. He also bought Twitter at a loss so he could take over a major social media site and use it to promote misinformation, conspiracy theories, and platform white supremacists and hate-mongers like Tommy Robinson and Nick Fuentes.

He went all-in with Donald Trump after saying he wouldn’t donate to any candidate because he realized Trump is an unethical criminal who would treat the Oval Office like an ATM. It’s all quid pro quo. Donald has returned the favor by allowing Musk to roam free around Mar-a-Lago, join phone calls with world leaders, dine with tech billionaires who bent the knee, and he even publicly thanked him for helping with those “vote counting computers” in Pennsylvania. So far, whatever Musk wants, he gets. Musk decided to torpedo the bipartisan government spending deal via Twitter and Republicans almost shut down the government to appease him. Musk went all-in with H1B visas and referred to MAGA who criticized him as “contemptible fools” and “retards,” and Trump did a 180 on the issue and sided with him.

So, why be content with just the appetizers? Why not raid the fridge and grab everything, including the cake, the cookies, and all the crumbs? Musk has a voracious appetite and the United States of America as his “all you can eat” buffet. As Donald Trump yells at the clouds and threatens to make Canada the 51st state for balking at “the dumbest trade war in history,” Musk is busy gaining access to all of our financial data. On Friday, David Lebryk, a top civil servant at the Treasury Department, was pushed out of his job after he refused to give DOGE, the Department of Government Efficiency headed by Musk, access to the system. Please note Musk is a private citizen and not a federal employee. We still don’t know the scope of DOGE’s role, its limits, its budget, its staff, or whether it will function as a department of the government or exist as an independent organization. What we do know is DOGE is behaving like a Trojan Horse and has allowed Elon Musk to gain access to the Treasury’s federal payment system, which includes every US taxpayer’s personal information. Through DOGE, Musk has promised to eliminate wasteful spending, which according to him includes ending DEI programs, “defanging” regulators like the Securities and Exchange Commission and FTC which have investigated his businesses, privatizing the US postal service, “deleting” the IRS, and ending remote work. However, he wants to improve defense spending, so he will continue receiving government subsidies for his SpaceX which will produce rockets that explode in the sky and give Americans the most expensive fireworks.

Another target on his chopping block is eliminating humanitarian spending. He’s accomplishing that goal by attacking USAID, which provides life-saving support to marginalized communities around the world. But to Musk, who loves the pro-Nazi AfD party, USAID is an “evil” and “criminal organization” that deserves to die. As of Sunday, USAID’s X account and website are no longer available. People around the world, such as children in Sudan, Gaza, and Ukraine, will die as a result of this cruel, unnecessary action, but, hey, none of that matters to the “pro-life” MAGA movement. On Saturday night, two top security officials from the agency were put on leave because they refused officials from DOGE access to private systems. Thanks to Musk’s interference, the head of the FAA was also forced to resign, which led to the United States being without an FAA chief during a preventable and tragic airline collision in DC that claimed nearly 70 lives. Musk didn’t appreciate Starlink being fined in 2022 for violations of safety protocols.

In two weeks’ time, the Co-”Presidency” of Elon Musk and Donald Trump has destroyed everything that made America great, as the broligarchy has taken over and plundered everything in sight.

See Also:

Let's Address This (Qasim Rashid): MAGAs 7 Deadly Sins—So Far—And How to Fight Back

America, America (Steven Beschloss): Bullies, Criminals and the Fight for America

[phoenixblaze1412]

I love the child reader stuff you make a lot! how do you think the segments and dottore would react if child reader now a bit grown up into teen years came out as queer/trans?

Dottore (Prime/Zandik)

At first, Dottore’s reaction might seem detached. He’s not the type to outwardly emote much in any situation, but his mind would immediately start analyzing. Not in a dismissive way, he genuinely wants to understand.

“Interesting,” he might say, with his usual sharp tone, but he wouldn’t mean it mockingly. To him, it’s simply a matter of identity, and the mechanics of gender or orientation fascinate him from a scientific standpoint.

Beneath his cold demeanor, he respects you deeply, so he wouldn’t dismiss your experience.

If you needed reassurance, he would provide it in his own way: practical support. He would ensure you had whatever resources, clothes, or tools you needed to feel at ease.

He’s protective, so anyone who dared disrespect you over your identity would face his wrath in full force.

The Omega Segment

Omega is logical and pragmatic, so his response would be straightforward and nonchalant. “If that’s who you are, then so be it.”

He wouldn’t make a big deal out of it and would treat it like any other personal revelation, continuing to work or experiment while listening.

However, he has a soft spot for you. While he doesn’t show it often, he would adjust his behavior if it made you more comfortable, switching to new pronouns or offering affirmations subtly in his interactions.

He’d also offer guidance in a calm, steady tone if you seemed uncertain about yourself, always grounding you when emotions ran high.

The Iota Segment

Iota’s reaction would be more overt. He’s loud and proud of you, hyping you up immediately. “That’s my kid!” he’d exclaim with a wide grin, clapping you on the back.

He might be overbearing with his enthusiasm at first, insisting on helping you in ways that could verge on embarrassing, like marching off to intimidate anyone who might have ever been cruel to you.

“You tell me if anyone’s giving you trouble. I’ll take care of it.” His protective instincts go into overdrive.

Iota is a bit brash but very genuine. If you needed support, he’d jump into action without hesitation, even if he didn’t fully understand at first.

The Epsilon Segment

Epsilon would react much like Prime but with a more inquisitive, academic lens. He might bombard you with questions not to belittle, but because he’s fascinated and genuinely wants to learn how best to support you.

“So, how does this impact your perception of yourself? What can I do to accommodate your needs?” His tone would be clinical, but his intention kind.

He’d research queer or trans topics extensively, likely overwhelming you with resources and information. “I’ve compiled some data you might find helpful.”

He’s a bit socially awkward, so his attempts to express support might come across as stiff or overly formal, but his care is evident in his actions.

The Theta Segment

Theta is playful and teases everyone, but his reaction would surprise you with its sincerity. “Really? That’s awesome! Now, let’s mess with everyone else by confusing them about your pronouns for fun.”

He’d lighten the mood with jokes, but they’d never be at your expense. Instead, he’d use humor to make you feel at ease and ensure you knew he accepted you wholeheartedly.

Theta would also go out of his way to validate you, casually working affirming comments into conversations without making a big deal out of it.

“You’re already the coolest person here; this just cements it.”

The Zeta Segment

Zeta doesn’t say much, so his reaction would be subtle but deeply supportive. A nod of acknowledgment, a small smile, these gestures would say everything.

He’s not one for grand speeches, but his actions speak louder than words. He’d ensure you felt respected and cared for without making a fuss.

If anyone tried to disrespect you, Zeta would be the silent enforcer, using his presence to intimidate them into backing off.

As a collective, the segments might bicker over the best way to support you, each with their own approach. But the one thing they’d all agree on is that you’re their kid, and they’d defend you fiercely.

Prime would eventually step in to coordinate their efforts, ensuring that they didn’t overwhelm you with their differing reactions.

The lab might become a bit chaotic at first as they adjust to any changes you’ve shared, but their love for you is unwavering. Whether you’re queer, trans, or simply figuring yourself out, they’d all stand by your side.

[kisssukuna33]

𝙅𝙅𝙆 𝙈𝙀𝙉 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙃𝙊𝙒 𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙔 𝘾𝙀𝙇𝙀𝘽𝙍𝘼𝙏𝙀 𝙑𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙀!!

Satoru Gojo

-Gives the most expensive gifts-

Satoru is the type to go all out for special occasions. So obviously he's no less in his game when it comes to valentine either. He's the type to give everyone he knows well valentine gifts including his partner, colleagues and even the students but he knows better to prioritize his partner above everyone else. He would be the type to keep track on your wishlist so he won't end up giving you useless gifts you won't be using. If your wishlist looks too poor for his taste he's generous enough to sneak in more extra gifts until it feels satisfying enough.

Nanami Kento

- loves to take care of you during the day-

Nanami is more of an action guy than a gift giver when it comes to Valentine. He would be the type to wake up at 3 am without you knowing so he can surprise you with a freshly baked cake and a delicious breakfast. Nanami always loves spending quality time with you on special occasions so the valentine day would be no different. You two will partake in activities Nanami has planned for both of you and he would end the day with a delicious homemade dinner worth a 5 star rating.

Choso kamo

-The chocolate disaster-

What's a valentine day without chocolate? That's Choso's motto during valentine. He's the type to buy a lot of ingredients he won't even be using and get started on the chocolate making atleast a week prior. No amount of preparing can prevent the complete disaster incoming though. You see Choso wanted to give you the BEST so he tried his best but maybe overdoing it too much can leads to you fucking up the whole thing, that's how Choso ended up with chocolate that barely tasted like chocolate and a kitchen covered in chocolate syrup and bits. But that doesn't demotivate your boyfriend at all because he wants his girl smiling on valentine, so he starts again and finally made them somewhat edible. No matter the taste the dedication your boyfriend put to the chocolates warms your heart anyway.

Atleast It is until you come over to his apartment and sees the complete disaster waiting for u in the kitchen.

Toji Fushiguro

- last minute gift buyer-

Toji is a man with a lot of responsibilities. Working through missions daily and still coming over to his house like a normal family man while keeping his job as an Assassin a secret from his wife indeed requires a lot of work. So you really can't blame Toji if he misses one thing or two. Maybe that's why he's confused as to why his wife is suddenly giving him the silent treatment. He follows around you like a lost puppy that evening trying to figure out what's wrong with you. And when you two finally settle into bed that's when it clicks to him as he remembers way too much pink shit being everywhere in the town today. He mentally curses as he excused himself from the bed to "go on a walk". Toji uses that opportunity to finally go into the town and find a gift that you would actually enjoy. Your anger washes over the moment you see your husband approach you with a small gift box in hands. He doesn't forget to apologize again and again for fucking up the day for you.

Ryomen Sukuna

- the mean tease-

Sukuna would be the type to buy you a gift even before you mention to him about Valentine. He would play it safe by saying "Useless stuff" "Good day for money grabbing corporate overlords". He enjoys teasing you throughout the day while you are waiting impatiently for his gift. But his teasing drops the moment he sees the pout and the gloomy expression taking over your face as you accept defeat. Sukuna's ass is so down bad for you that he absolutely HATES seeing you in that expression. Not even a minute after he tosses a gift box to your lap.

"Aw Kuna you bought a valentine gift for me?"

"No I just bought you a "gift" like I always do"

"No but you gave it to me during Valentine so of course it's a valentine gift!"

"Don't be stupid brat"

He says in his usual annoyed tone but you weren't able to miss the slight blush appearing in his face after you thank him with a kiss to his cheek.

Ugh I just love Sukuna so much, Hope y'all enjoy this Valentine drabble!<33

[impossible-rat-babies]

veilguard endgame spoilers:

hammers and bricks! eshka w hammers and bricks to beat solas to death !

jokes aside I think there’s something very sad about how she would choose the irrational and lasting angry choice to kill him or bind him to the veil against his will because the betrayal she should have seen coming did, in fact, happen. she thought it might be different, that they had come to a point of mutual understanding and respect. But no. He would use her as a tool while crying and lamenting about the sacrifices needed to soothe his own regrets.

In her eyes, he has the gall to be upset over such things, and she’s tired of it. Eshka voice to herself: aren’t you tired? don’t you wanna just go apeshit?

so she’s angry—blatantly so, and undisguised in her rage and frustration at solas. there is no being nice to him, because in the end he never cared about her. (deep down the anger is a cover for the hurt of the betrayal and her shame at having trusted him. both are very powerful motivators for her).

[azurechicken]

It always gets me how Justice did not change at all, like, he is not corrupted at all. It makes everything more tragic than it already is. The only thing that changed was his perception, which of course, naturally came due to the change of hosts. I'm mostly taking Awakening Justice into account and how he acts because that is where we can carefully observe him by himself, without Anders' influence on the matter. And his influence is everything on the point I am trying to make.

When we first meet Justice, he is fulfilling his nature of bringing justice to the people he thinks that need it. He is very outspoken about it, and is already ready to take action with or without Warden's help. For a supposedly peaceful spirit that Anders claims to have ruined with his anger, Justice is acting pretty angry here himself (This is not the only time either). This is one of the first things I want to point out that did not change much about the spirit. Justice was always fierce about his cause. However, what stands out to me in these scenes is when the witch calls him out on his idea of justice.

Justice, is that what you are calling it? What of their punishment, burning my house to the ground and with me in it?

Well, in this case, the witch is a demon and mocking Justice for funsies. But what she says actually gives a bit more insight about what kind of a spirit Justice is. The actions do not speak louder than intent to him, as long as it is within the lines he set for himself. In a way, he was always okay with a few… casualties in the name of justice. Even though it is as simple as burning down a house this time. Isn't violence for violence vengeance after all?

While we are on the topic of vengeance, let's not forget the way he is eager on avenging Kristoff, vowing to kill every darkspawn for his cause (I mean the way he literally calls it avenging is enough debate for some people but I want to continue). So how come wanting to take revenge on the offenders that wronged not only his host but many other people, is any different? How did this route did not take him to the road of vengeance but attacking the templars, who are also offenders that wronged his host and other people, is corrupting him?

The answer is of course, that it is not, it did not. There is no difference between those two for Justice, there is no difference between vengeance and justice. Punishing the ones who deserve it is all there is. There is no gray area for spirits the way there is in the mortal world, and we see this clearly in the way he judges Velanna and Nathaniel for their crimes. Despite what I said about him seeing intent before action, now he cannot see beyond their wrongs. This simply shows that if the intent is as clear as violence for violence, he understands. But he does not understand the gray area of Velanna mistaking the innocents as guilty, or Nathaniel taking back what used to be already his.

 

There might be none for Justice, but there is a difference between darkspawn and templars for mortals. For one, darkspawn are generally mindless, and has no moral compass for us to judge. Whereas templars are just people with different ideals about life, to put it kindly at least. (Which is worse, being a mindless cruel monster, or having the mind and morals to choose to be something else but going for being one anyway? Lol another discussion for another time). Templars are the gray area that Justice lacks the understanding of. When he vows to kill every templar like he did with the darkspawn, he does not suddenly turn into a demon, he is simply punishing the ones that were doing wrong, as he does.

From here we can say that spirits' judgments and mortal's don't exactly match up. Though, there is one idea that seems to match better than others, and that is corruption. As far as we learn from Justice, spirits do not know about corruption any better than we do. Spirit do bad, spirit go bad, right? So, when Justice starts to feel things that are associated with demons, such as envy, he starts to fear corruption. He says he does not want to learn how a demon feels, but he also states that he does see the wishful thinking of a demon wanting to cross the Veil for this world. He is conflicted at best about the whole thing. Still, he does not consider himself corrupted regardless. I think that the reason behind that is simply the fact that generally, the Warden can ease his worries when Justice confides in them. And that is another thing that says a bit about him. He seems to accept the lack of understanding he has in the world, and chooses to listen to someone who does. Though, not just a random anybody, someone he deemed just.

So, let's see. A fade spirit with identity issues and an anxious spirit healer walks into a bar…

When they merged and Justice accepted Anders' cause for himself, and when they went all crazy on the Templars, Anders was scared. He feared the worst immediately because he is taught the worst about possession. He knew that Justice was angry because of him and his ideals about mages. So he blamed himself, called it a corruption he caused. And as I mentioned, Justice is accepting of the fact that he has a lack of understanding of some things. Plus, he was already scared of corruption. So, when Anders, who is an educated mage about possessions and corruption claims that he is slowly corrupting the spirit, they held onto it.

Everyone in their life from this point on, do nothing but egg them on about it, on top of it all. They might not corrupt each other, but everyone else does by pushing them the idea that they are now an abomination. Anders starts to fear the nonexistent corruption more, and Justice is confusing the inability to just wipe all the bad out with sloth. We are talking about a being who comes from the Fade, which can be bent at will and a place of immediate action. This works well in Awakening because we are already fighting darkspawn nonstop, and we are in the middle of a war. But in Kirkwall? Everything requires planning and suspended ideals. Templars bring injustice everywhere they go, yet there is not much they can do. After many years of being held back, it is no wonder Justice is surfacing more and more, itching to fulfill his purpose. Because he was always outspoken, angry at the injustice in the world and eager to bring justice. He did not change, but Anders' morals and his' just did not align the way they thought it would. They forgot that in Justice, there was always a part that was vengeance.

At the end, Justice was one of the most stable parts of Anders' story. He couldn't count his vow in Awakening complete without reaching the root of the problem, which was the broodmother. And he could not do so in Kirkwall without getting rid of the Chantry. Because chantry is the root of the Templars, and being a bystander while you can help solve everything easily is unjust all the same.

Anders and Justice had the same cause, different morality and they were just confused because they didn't know any better.