#i still don't entirely understand what it is

[fuckyeahisawthat]

So OBVIOUSLY Jayce is as smart as Viktor; I don't think Viktor would give him the time of day if he wasn't. But I think he does have a bit of the Elle Woods "What, like it's hard?" about his weird freak genius brain in that he doesn't realized quite how much of an outlier he is.

Like it seems from Jayce and Viktor's chalkboards and also the scenes of Ekko, AU Powder and Heimerdinger building the Z drive that there is actual rune math involved, in that runes have mathematical properties and you can do equations with them. And I think it's highly unlikely anyone in Piltover formally teaches this branch of mathematics because no one believes magic can be accessed in this way, and also it's not like Jayce is gonna be requesting an elective to learn the stuff needed for his illegal science project. So I'm guessing Jayce was teaching himself an entirely new branch of mathematics probably out of some weird old books imported through slightly irregular means, on top of all his regular coursework/research. Hell, he was probably inventing/discovering new rune math in the process of creating Hextech; by the time the Hexgates are open he could probably write the textbook on it.

With Viktor, I actually think the element he would think was no big deal is his engineering skill. Zaun is absolutely full of crazy tinkerers building shit out of nothing and jerry-rigging solutions to problems and keeping things working with spit, rubber bands and ingenuity. They have advanced prosthetics and body mods (I am sure Viktor's back brace is an Undercity creation; no one in Piltover knows how to make that stuff because no one needs it); they have "potions" that heal serious wounds quickly; even the Firelights' hoverboards are a technology we don't see in Piltover. Jinx and Ekko both figure out how to make usable Hextech artifacts with way fewer resources than anyone in Piltover has; Ekko and AU Powder invent fucking time travel when they have a bit of time to mess around with things.

And when it comes to book learning I'm guessing Viktor had no one to compare himself with as a child, so he's teaching himself calculus at age ten out of a book he stole out of some rich Piltie kid's backpack and thinking this is probably how everyone learns topside. He probably ran circles around his fellow Academy students when it came to formal classwork but he barely pays attention to that because it's not discovery; it's just demonstrating that you know the material and he already knows that he knows it. He spends one evening reading Jayce's notebook and is able to understand enough to know the science is solid and contribute to advancing it. (And how much do I love the idea that he fell for Jayce's brain, as seen through his research notes, before any other part of him.) Viktor builds what's essentially a magical AI (the Hexcore) which no one even knew could be done and is still frustrated that he's not figuring out how it works fast enough.

Tl;dr these guys match each other's freak on a brain level instantly and like no one else around them and that would already be some soulmate-level shit no matter what else you think is going on.

[simpjaes]

✘ WIP DIARY ── LAST NIGHT, I READ YOUR DIARY. (p.sh) ✘

Sunghoon has been trying be everything you need since your mother passed. A father, a friend, a therapist. You never really understood what your mother saw in him in the first place, if you’re being honest. He’s awkward, quiet, and typically used to keep to himself up until now. You’re impressed with his efforts by the time you’re entering into your senior year of college, though his entire demeanor towards you seems to have changed.  or the one where your step-father grows obsessed with you minute by minute. 

── step-dad /weirdo park sunghoon x afab reader  

── minors dni

── tags: sunghoon is in his 30s, reader is in her 20s so, age gap, step-cest, heartbreak, obsession, manipulation, coercion, stockholm syndrome-ish, fluff if he manipulates you as a reader lmfao, angst, smut. don't read this if you are easily triggered. ── side characters: heeseung as reader's ex boyfriend, jay as reader's closest friend

── !WARNINGS!: this work contains non-con, dub-con, and stalking behavior. your mom isn’t alive in this fic. warnings will be updated as i write.

── a/n: this one is gonna be a wild ride, that's all i gotta say.

LAST UPDATED: 12.22.24

⨯ est wordcount: 20k+ ⨯ current wordcount: 5.4k ⨯ est release date: tbd ⨯ taglist: ask to be on my perma tag list!

playlist ⨯ recommended song: last night i read your diary - gürl She's got me down on my knees I beg, I beg, I, I beg, I beg, please! I want it more than I need And I need it like I need to breathe Like I'm losing my- Choke.

PREVIEW (3.1k):

no warnings apply to the preview, it's just the first couple of thousand words for this fic. aka, the intro and the set up for what will inevitably happen later:

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Your first heartbreak is meant to be painful, but this? This is more painful than you could have ever imagined. 

Heeseung was one of your only constants in life. From childhood to high school it’s like he was there more than your own mother was, and certainly more than your own father. Even when she passed, Heeseung was the one who held you through it, he’s the one who made you smile again, he’s the one who made you feel like it was okay to heal and keep going. 

It’s the fact that it was a mutual break up that hurts the most because deep down, you couldn’t see yourself without him. Yet, still, you willingly watched him hop on the plane with a short kiss and long goodbye. It felt so final to you. You could have handled a long distance relationship, truly. But Heeseung didn’t want that. He wanted to explore the world, he wanted to try new things, be with new people. 

Do things without you clinging to him all the time. 

In a way, you understand that. After all, you’re the only girl he had ever been with up until now. Senior year of college. You think you knew your relationship was coming to an end by the time he announced he was going to be studying abroad for his final year without ever once even telling you he was applying to do so. 

So, yeah, it was mutual solely because you want him to be happy and he’s made it clear that he believes that can only happen without you. Such is life. Painful, painful fucking life.  

Just last year when your mother passed, you nearly dropped out and Heeseung had been your rock to make it through class after class with a grade barely high enough to pass. You’re certain some of your professors took pity on you and raised your grade just enough to move forward. You’ll forever thank them for recognizing how hard you were trying. But now? Without your mother, without Heeseung, you’re at a loss.

And there’s a difference between loneliness and isolation, you think. Loneliness to you always hits hard during small spaces in your day, like when you’d get into Heeseung’s car and he would close your door for you. The silence always hurt your ears while he was still making his way around the car to the driver’s seat. A shallow loneliness that you could feel right at the top of your gut, like it was squeezing inside of you and making you lose your appetite. Solely because that silence reminded you of what you always had, a lack of loneliness because of him.

But then there’s isolation. Where it feels forced upon you by other people. Your mother fucking died, Heeseung fucking left, and now you’re just here expected to wake up like you always do, go to class, study hard, sleep well, when the reality of it is– you’re genuinely struggling just to look at yourself in the mirror. 

Then there’s Sunghoon. The only person close enough to you now that you can reach out to. The issue with that is– you’ve never actually been close. And that’s what sucks. The fact that he of all people is all you have now? May as well just assume you have nobody.

His regular calls mean close to nothing to you in the grand scheme of things. Despite him calling twice a week every week since your mother died, your step-father is just as distanced from you as you are him. You’re aware that it’s his obligation, not because he cares. And that hurts, because it’s all you have now. 

Now, you have to try and find meaning in those short calls. After all, Sunghoon fell apart when your mother passed all on his own and you had only called him out of obligation too. You were already in college and stressed, falling apart yourself with someone to love beside you helping you through it. Calling him when it all happened felt empty because you knew both of you were trying to hold it together and save face. 

It wasn’t like this before she died. In fact, he never called and you never cared for him to. You’d see each other when you were home, share awkward pleasantries, and that’s it. It’s hard to believe that now you feel like you need a father, after all those years of practically rejecting him as one. He seemed fine with that after you hit your teen years. He knew by then that he could never be the father you want, but at least he could be the husband your mother needed.

You have grief in common now though. Loneliness. Isolation.

You try not to think about how you were okay up until now though. Having Heeseung to fall back on to soften the blow of your loss, you guess Sunghoon didn’t have that. Maybe his monotone voice and empty words were his way of coping, his way of hearing a voice that wasn’t the one in his own head when he calls you. 

It’s just you and a man you never considered family past the titles and obligatory respects. Finding meaning in his short phone calls does nothing to help your growing isolation, but you cling to them now that Heeseung is gone. You wait for the calls, you ask him to check in with you every day now, to the point Sunghoon starts to notice the difference in you.

No longer rushing to get off the phone. Now, you’re dragging on meaningless conversations. Now, he hears cracks in your voice. 

“You feeling okay?” Sunghoon asks you, in a way that makes you wonder how he’s able to tell that you’re definitely not. The way his own voice has a bit of life to it when he asks it…strange too. Like he’s concerned. 

“No–” You trail off in your meek voice, staring at your ceiling and mind swirling with all of the work you need to get done for classes already. “I’ve only been in classes for a week and I already feel like I’m drowning.” 

Sunghoon sighs into the speaker, contemplating how to further the conversation with you in a way that isn’t too intrusive. After all, who is he to pry? Still, he never intended for you to feel neglected or like you couldn’t come to him. After all, you were too happy about his lack of parenting you throughout his presence in your life. 

He finds solace in the fact that you’ve been accepting him now, though he hasn’t the slightest idea as to why. He’s checked in with you since the passing, but lately it feels to him like something more is going on with you. He may be somewhat estranged, and he may have his own problems to deal with, but you’re still someone he needs to be here for.

Plus, it makes him feel needed again, which is nice considering the circumstances. After living in this bustling house with you and your mom for so long, to it just being him and your mom, to now just him…all that remains now is dread, dissociation, and unwashed dishes in the sink.

“Did something happen?” Sunghoon keeps his questions short, offering more silence if anything for you to use this call as a therapy session if you need. 

You pause for a long moment, realizing that you want to talk about your issues so badly but don’t quite feel the need to share it with him of all people. You’ve already ranted day after day to Jay. To the point you’re sure he’s about one rant away from blocking your number. 

Probably because you’re not that close to him either. Not these days, anyway.

You sigh instead. 

“No…” You trail off. “I think I just miss being home. My dorm mate is never here, class work is already piling up, and I can’t even find the energy to look at the assignments.” 

Sunghoon can tell you’re feeling much like he does and he can’t imagine the weight on your shoulders dealing with these feelings while also in college. But, you have Heeseung, do you not? You’ve been fine for the most part until now, and you haven’t even brought him up. Not once in the past few weeks has his name been uttered by you. Which is strange, after all, the two of you were practically attached at the hip growing up, to the point of choosing the same college, working the same jobs, and even keeping that middle-school puppy love in full swing throughout highschool and college. 

If anything, after your mother passed, Sunghoon felt okay knowing you had Heeseung there with you to help you through it. It meant he could focus on himself and getting through the day-to-day. He could barely handle his own mournful thoughts, let alone the daughter’s feelings of the woman he loved so dearly. He was forever grateful for Heeseung during this time. 

He has his suspicions now though, and his heart aches for the voice he hears from you these days. 

“Why don’t you come home for a while?” He lends a pause to see if you’ll jump for the opportunity before selling the idea to you. “I have the bills here covered and your campus is only a forty minute drive. I’m sure that’s inconvenient but you won’t have bills to worry about on top of everything else.” He doesn’t want to sound too desperate, of course. 

After all, the loneliness he’s feeling is also becoming unbearable. Even if the two of you never were able to see eye to eye, or to form a bond together, you’re all he has left of your mother. He, arguably, is nothing to you, but there’s no one else in this world he’d rather heal the loneliness with outside of you. Only because you knew your mother on a level deeper than he did, and to have someone to share those memories with, or even laugh with, would help him tremendously too.

“I think being at home may do you some good.” 

You think it over in your head, wondering if being home will help you at all. In reality, you know it may make you feel more trapped than you do now. All those memories with your mother, with Heeseung, with all of your friends that have since moved to different colleges. 

But…you wouldn’t be alone. You’d be with someone who knows how to give you space because he’s never even tried to shrink your existence to that of your bedroom and your bedroom alone. You wouldn’t have to worry about rent, food, or anything aside from studies, gas money, and trying to heal from your heartbreak. 

Your dorm is small, you note as you look around the room and wonder how long it would take you to pack your things up. Two hours, give or take. The longest part would be taking all of the little decorations off the wall, if you’re being honest. 

You find yourself nodding before answering, solidifying in your mind that– maybe you’re not the only one who needs company in your space. Not too close, but close enough to not be totally isolated. 

“Okay.” You mutter into the phone, for some reason feeling the tears well up behind your eyes. 

You’re just a bit overwhelmed, that’s all. Knowing you’re going home feels like a relief you didn’t know you needed. 

“Yeah?” Sunghoon confirms. “Just let me know when and I’ll drive up there to help get your stuff back home.” 

You agree, sighing into the phone with a shaking voice. Sunghoon takes note of it, always remembering and quite frankly missing how loud and obnoxious you used to be. Hearing you like this pains him. He wants to help. Now more than ever is his chance to be someone you need, and he hates knowing he feels happy about it. 

Getting to be your father now? It feels awkward, but at least it’s a feeling other than loss. 

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Sunghoon sighs at you through the speaker. “I know I’m not someone you like coming to but–well, I’d like for you to rely on me more, okay?” 

You find a lot of comfort in those words, despite hearing him say them time and time again. This is the first time he’s ever shown that he means it through the offer of bringing you home, rather than just saying it and accepting whatever you say back to him at face value. 

“I know…” You trail off. “I’m okay though, really.” 

Sunghoon hates himself for never forcing you to accept him. Sure, there may have been some teenage defiance towards him, but eventually the two of you could have seen eye to eye. He could have been someone you needed. You could have relied on him too, rather than just Heeseung. That’s all he can really think right now. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing else going on?” The man nearly pleads in his tone, desperate to have someone rely on him again. “I’ve never heard you sound so exhausted before, I can’t help but worry.”

You’d tell him, but honestly, what grown ass man wants to hear about a first heartbreak? It would just get awkward again, he’d just feel obligated to do something about it, and worse, he might end up feeling like he’s supposed to dislike Heeseung now. 

You choose to remain silent in the final straw that broke your back this semester. 

“Really, I’m just tired.” You nod to yourself as you hold your phone loosely against your ear. “I might not go to class tomorrow and just pack instead. I’ll just call you when I’m ready, is that okay?”

Sunghoon smiles to himself, wanting to mean something to you in a way that can hopefully help you out of this slump. Your mother would be throwing a fit if she heard how you’ve been sounding, he can’t help but take over that role and try to make damn sure you are okay. 

“That’s fine,” Sunghoon confirms. “I’ll call and let them know what’s going on so don’t worry about any of that. Just get yourself ready to come back home.” 

You find yourself smiling, relieved that you don’t have to be the one to contact your school and tell them that…well, you’re breaking your student-lease, dropping your food plan, and need to be reimbursed for partial tuition costs since Sunghoon insists every semester that you purchase tuition insurance. You should no longer be charged to live on campus, or for the facilities within the dorm. 

Knowing you’ll at least get back a couple thousand dollars is a nice change of pace, and already you’re feeling weirdly excited to go back to a space that will likely make you miss your mother more. It’ll hurt, but at least you won’t be alone anymore. 

The forty minute drive to campus feels less horrifying now, and maybe your friends will still come and hang out with you in your actual home rather than a tiny dorm. 

“Sounds good.” You say, as if to end the call before you mutter out again. “Thank you, by the way. Sunghoon, really.” 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Sunghoon knew he was spiraling further and further into his loneliness. He knew it wasn’t healthy either, but now. Oh, now he realizes just how bad it’s gotten as he demonizes himself upon picking you up. 

You haven’t come home since your mother’s funeral, and even on that day he barely remembers what you looked like. Eye contact was never a thing for him, but looking at you now, he sees how much you’ve matured since you went off to college. 

Your once bright, excited eyes have turned dull and empty. The bags under them are heavy from lack of sleep. Your lips appear to be in a permanent state of pouting, though he isn’t sure if you’ve noticed. You appear to have lost weight, which is concerning for him of course, but…there’s something else about you.

Something that sits in the pit of his stomach and rots.

“Uh–” You cough, noting the way Sunghoon looks at you as you try to hand him a large box. “Thank you for helping me move my stuff back…” 

Sunghoon snaps out of his thoughts, grabbing a heavy box and then waiting for you to stack another on top. 

“No big deal,” He mutters, feeling the weight in his hands double as he prepares to carefully carry your things out to his car. “You haven’t come home in over a year, but I’ve fixed up your room for you and went ahead and connected my gaming system in there.”

You nod quietly, feeling awkward for how fatherly he seems.

“Thanks…” You trail off, flopping a pile of your things into his trunk before stopping to look at him. “You look like shit.”

Sunghoon furrows his brows, noticing for a split second how that facial expression you made is very similar to one his wife used to throw at him when he’d have hair out of place, or a wardrobe malfunction. And then he smiles. 

“You’re not looking too good yourself.” He jokes back.

You smile back at him, feeling a bit of the awkward air fizzle away. 

“Well, I’m not doing well, so.” 

You were continuing the joke, but his face falls before yours does. 

“You can talk to me–” He starts.

“I know, I know.” You wave him off. “I’ll feel a lot better once we get back and I can settle in.

There’s a nod from him now, and then silence as the two of you continue to put the rest of your belongings into both his car and your own. 

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in a bit?” You say now, awkwardly.

Sunghoon nods, looking you over once again.

“See you in a bit.” 

   ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Shame.

Pure fucking shame. 

Sunghoon knew he needed another presence in this house but upon seeing you again, he knew it may have been a mistake. 

He likes to think of himself as level headed. He’s never gotten into any trouble, never had a stray thought, never cheated, lied, or stole anything. He can’t think of a single thing that he’s done in life to be considered taboo.  But looking at you feels…incorrect?

Indecent? 

You’re his step-daughter for fuck sake but it’s the fact that you don’t feel like you are. When he looks at you, he just sees another person. He did this to help you, he did this to feel needed, to be your fucking father. 

He did not do this to look at you this way or to feel his eye stray even without his intention.

Why do you look so much like her? Why do you do that thing with your pinky when you carry things like she did? You even have a similar smell, probably having picked up on your mother’s habits throughout childhood. 

You being here…It’s like she’s still here. Except it’s you, and he can’t be thinking this way. 

 ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

This fic will be dark, very taboo, morally bad. Not a grey area, it is blatantly bad. sunghoon will do bad things. Please be aware of your own triggers once it's completed and posted. remember that I write within my own triggers, not yours. That being said! Please do show lots of love if this is a fic you're interested in reading! If you want to be tagged, I have a permanent tag list, there are not any separate tag lists for individual fics so keep that in mind.  ・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

[hitlikehammers]

oh golden boy (don't act like you were kind)

part i : you were mine but—

for @kultiras at the ❄️ Winter @steddieexchange 🖤🩵

Arguably the sharpest knife in his chest about this whole fucking shitshow?

Eddie thought they were doing good.

Like: so fucking good.

Eddie thought they were on the cusp of…that they were building something.

He’s such an idiot. Such a…

A heartsick fucking idiot.

But if he’s gracious—which he’s not, least of all to himself—when he puts all the pieces together, lines the evidence up and analyzes it, thinks of it in terms of a narrative that he can understand and recognize the flaws in, where he’d rewrite the ending or tweak the rising action so everything slides into place realistically, cause and effect in balance just right: Eddie can see that the way this has all shaken out is fucked up. So, so fucked up.

Because there honestly hadn’t been any signs that they weren’t laying the foundations of something long-term, something lasting; that they weren’t in this deep and rooted, strong and committed and serious in a real, tangible way, and, just…

Forever. Eddie was…he was playing for keeps, here. He thought, he just, he thought—

Fuck.

He just…really believed he wasn’t alone in it all.

Again: idiot.

It’d started so fucking predictably, really, because if there’s one thing that Eddie clocked about Steve Harrington from the get-go of actually getting to know him versus operating on the popular-gorgeous-jock framework he’d distilled the guy down to in his head before 1986: the one consistent thing he’d figured from what he’d heard and what he’d seen put together was that: Steve Harrington?

Bastard’s protective to a fucking fault.

So when he blinked back to the land of the living with Steve goddamn Harrington at his bedside? Standing guard, looking a little haggard—like he cared, at least enough to worry—but still fucking devastatingly pretty, good god-

When he woke up to that, Eddie was surprised and also: not at all surprised.

The way he lit up when he saw Eddie was conscious, like world was less before that moment and something right slid back into place? Eddie…Eddie felt like his body was pretty wholly broken but that fucking cracked something down his middle, decimated parts of him in new ways that hadn’t been already devastated on another plane, were sitting ripe for wholesale ruin.

He’d let Steve blame the breathiness that’d overcome him on coming back from the brink of death, because Steve didn’t need to know the sensations, the emotions, that were running riot through Eddie’s veins.

But then it hadn’t stopped.

Steve standing guard at his side became a constant, like Eddie couldn’t quite comprehend save that it felt like his body was knitting itself around the fact of this more-than-good dude and Eddie wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that, save kind of just…poke curiously at the new shape of everything he was for it, and once he worked through the fear of the unfamiliar in it?

To kinda…savor it. Roll around in it and relish.

Probably it was gonna be short lived anyway. Probably it was gonna go away when Eddie finally got out of here. Only made sense to soak it up while it lasted.

And it was one of those early days, where Eddie was soaking it up and before anything possible beyond the bubble of middle-space they were existing in inside Eddie’s hospital room was even hinted at. Steve had gone to check on Max while Eddie grappled a bit to look down at himself a little better under the handkerchief that the hospital deemed sufficient as clothing, and he braced for the worst because it felt like the worst and what he did remember at all from the scene of the inter-dimensional mauling definitely aligned with being ‘the worst’: but it was honestly mostly bandages and pain.

Eddie didn’t…on second thought he didn’t know if he was ready to see what was underneath just yet, so he was actually kinda grateful that his hubris about it all didn’t immediately have a chance to floor him, especially when he was alone because he’d thought it’d be easier to stomach if it was just him—but the prospect, the bullet dodged, lodged in his throat and proved him kinda instantly wrong for the sharp cut of bile rising in him, and the violent jump of his pulse right behind it.

His hand had gravitated to his chest, though, like he could keep his heart from cracking his ribs that way, and he noticed that…even the light pressure ached, so he looked down a little more carefully, didn’t think the little fuckers had concentrated their attacks on the center of his chest so he tucked his chin and tried to see what was causing the sting—maybe just like, general area tenderness after playing buffet table to fucking…flying hellspace rodents but—

No. No: even from this weird-ass uncomfortable angle, Eddie could see the outline, coukd make out the dark stain of a bruise.

In the shape of a hand.

And listen, Eddie wasn’t foolish. He knew that everyone busted ass to get him topside and to a hospital. And that probably involved…stuff he didn’t want to really dwell on too long in terms of the nitty-gritty of his own mortality. He was also very much aware that Steve had played a crucial role, even if the man himself didn’t stand up and declare it. The kids didn’t have any sense of a fucking filter, so.

Eddie knew.

But Eddie then started tracing the splay of fingers on his sternum, his heartbeat so fucking heavy under even just the brush of his nails as he followed the outline of the purpling over, and over, and over, imagined what it would take to make that kind of an impression on his skin because Eddie was fucking pale, yeah, he marked quick—but not that dark.

Not that deep.

“Shit.”

Eddie’d startled, snapped his attention to the doorway where Steve had reappeared, looking a little breathless as he took Eddie in, came quick to his side and leaned to look closer at the monitor next to him and oh: Eddie hadn’t realized that the beeping was so loud, so fast. Hadn’t realized his heartbeat had ratcheted up quite so high.

Not that he was surprised.

“Shit, are you okay,” Steve barely breathed, eyes so goddamn big about it as his hands had kinda hovered, as he’d tried to figure out what to do, how to help, because that was what he was always doing; that’s who he was to his core, and Eddie…

“Oh god, let me call the nu—”

“Don’t.”

Eddie’d half-moaned it, god: scratchy but desperate as he reached for Steve’s hand and he…

He suspected he knew exactly how big that hand was; what shape it’d make to a fucking T. But he needed to see

For sure.

“What are you,” Steve’s brow had furrowed in that way Eddie was becoming increasingly aware he wanted to kiss smooth, and he started to ask it as Eddie grabbed to uncurl his grip from the bar at the side of the bed but Steve gave up fighting quick, focused on stopping Eddie from moving at all instead, from stretching the way he was against the precarious threads holding him together as he reached for the neck of his gown again, still loose enough from where he’d pulled the back up, left his ass out against the sheets to bare his breastbone, the mess of the tattoos on his chest more grisly after everything than any horrors he’d gotten inked before but—

This was a different kind of horrifying thing. Not least—maybe most—because it was entirely possible that it was also the most beautiful, sacred thing to ever touch Eddie’s skin. To ever beat through Eddie’s fucking veins.

“You,” Eddie let go of the last breath he could wrestle out before his lungs seized up too tight, because then he was watching it happen, watching Steve’s broad palm as it hovered over the imprint, shivering when Steve’s warmth made contact: eclipsing the bruise near-perfect, just like Eddie knew deep down it fucking would.

His heart took the hint and started shivering under Steve’s hand immediately, like it had something to prove.

“Ed,” Steve’s voice was wispy, choked a little; eyes too bright and Eddie feels like there must be so many kinds of dying, because he’d felt one keenly under that angry red lightning; this was a wholly other thing.

But felt just as keenly life-or-death.

“You,” Eddie whispered, the words, the truth, the feeling of it all too fragile, too precious to disturb, and he wondered if his heart knew Steve had pushed the bruises down around it to save it, if that’s why it was so unbridled and unabashed in hammering against that touch, that touch—

“I think I heard you.”

And Steve? Big eyes framed with those feather lashes, stretched wide and all made of shine and earnest fucking feeling?

“You didn’t…want to lose me?” Eddie’s voice had been so small, so so small because he did think he’d heard that, and the wisps of recollection, of a frantic but resolute voice demanding of him: what he was able to collect and try to tie into a whole matched up when he paired it all with Steve in his head, but what if he was wrong?

What if it was all just fever dreams and wishful thinking on his deathbed, what if Steve had no investment in him beyond keeping the Party safe in its entirety, no exceptions; what if Eddie was fucking wrong and showed too much of his hand with this, with Steve’s palm pressed to his thrashing heart and—

Then Steve was brining his free hand to Eddie’s cheek, fucking…cradling it like it fucking meant something, like he could matter and—

“I couldn’t lose you.”

Oh.

“You,” and so many possible ways to end that thought had swam through Eddie’s head—you barely know me, you can’t possibly care if I live or die, I cannot matter one fucking bit in your universe, so why would it matter but Steve’s hand was warm under his, and Steve didn’t pull away, only leaned in, only stayed close enough that Eddie could feel his breath on his skin and Steve could chart the way Eddie’s heart took to pummelling his already-taxed ribs but it didn’t matter, it couldn’t matter because Steve held there, so careful of the pain but nothing short of steady, devoted, a soul-sworn guard of that heart under his hand like it did matter, like Eddie did…

Like Steve ever could—

“Stevie,” Eddie would probably have flushed if the situation had been anything but what it was. If his heart wasn’t racing into Steve’s touch at the chest and just under the jaw where Steve’s thumb pressed almost proprietary, almost like a shield but also like a welcome, like the idea of Eddie’s heart beating into him wasn’t a dealbreaker, and fuck, fuck—

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Steve breathed out against him, prickling dangerous across his skin and Eddie’s heart leapt a little, fuck; more than a little and Steve felt it, front-row-center, couldn’t not feel it but he just leaned closer still, and Eddie was front-row himself to the catch in Steve’s inhale, undeniable and unapologetic as he murmured low, turning into Eddie’s cheek a little and Eddie maybe resented how it forced him to pull away,until his lips brushed the tip of Eddie’s jawbone and drew a whole ass shudder down his goddamn spine.

“Just know,” Steve gasped there, fucking…panted and hell if it didn’t catch in Eddie’s blood like pure bliss; “just know why.”

And fuck, but Eddie could only press in to the warmth of Steve’s lips where they moved for the words alone, let alone what words; what Eddie thought maybe they meant—

“Me too,” Eddie rasped a little, because fuck him, man; this was something…something else, swelling up in his chest so strong and Steve had to be able to feel it where he still held against him, palm to his galloping pulse at the source, feeling the life he coaxed back into the world.

“Does it have to make sense just yet?” Eddie asked, knew he sounded too hopeful, too desperate, more than he’d earned, than was safe but his heart kept knocking against that hand, so fucking insistent and who was he to deny it, to try and wrestle in into being less when he couldn’t even hide it, when it was evident to the man it was leaping at; for.

“I don’t think so,” Steve mouthed more than spoke where his lips dragged wet across the stubble on Eddie’s cheek.

“Then,” Eddie tipped his head, tried to catch Steve’s eyes, aimed to reason, to convince but the moment he moved, Steve dipped his chin just so to take Eddie’s lips, to kiss so hard, so complete with what felt like it couldn’t even be reasoned as less than all of him, because how could less than all feel like this—

Fucking impossible.

And Eddie couldn’t shy away—as Steve kissed him breathless, left him gasping; Eddie couldn’t shy away from the sense that he was being killed and revived all over again, endless and unbreaking, and it was perfection.

Jesus fuck.

And the kicker was that…weeks passed. A whole month, close to another. And if anything changed it was all for the better, for the more and Eddie wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it, if he was entirely honest. He…the bruise healed, y’know? That brand above his heart but—

He didn’t need it anymore. That was the thing. He didn’t need to see.

He was very fucking aware. Every minute of every day. He was…so aware. It could kill him better than those bats, it was so big and so much, and so quick, but with all that, probably because of all that: Eddie’d never felt anything even remotely like what it meant to shake off sleep and have Steve Harrington kiss you to wakefulness, to hold you for the nightmares as much as the news of small victories on the road to recovery: never wavering.

Never leaving.

When Eddie got the go-ahead to continue his rehab outpatient-style, his original conviction that all of this ended at the latest upon discharge was immediately challenged, because Steve had become so much more than he’d started as, but Eddie still worried. Made himself sick over it.

Felt like an indefensible monster as Steve rubbed his back, brought him soup, tended him like Eddie didn’t cause his own suffering, and all for the terror of losing the very man who was there, without question.

Then he signed himself out, and Steve drove him home.

Save that Eddie recognized where they were headed and…he only knew one person in Loch Nora.

“Your uncle’s still in the motel by the plant,” Steve had explained what Eddie already knew but hadn’t put together when Eddie raised an eyebrow in askance, wholly unsure how to process any of this, any of this; unsure how to hope in the face of what he was seeing, held against what he was wishing.

“Government’s being fucking assholes about setting you up with someplace appropriate,” and something in Steve’s tone had made plain that he was not just very clear on what constituted ‘appropriate’, he was probably actively involved somehow in holding the people in question rightly accountable for appropriate, and nothing less.

And Eddie…he did say he didn’t need a mark you could see on his heart, didn’t he.

“You need the room while you get better,” Steve murmured as he killed the engine, and lifted Eddie’s hand to his lips, pressed his mouth on the knuckles, nuzzling a little, eyes closed and Eddie…Eddie didn’t know what to do.

The only saving grace was that he didn’t have a monitor to rat his ass out when his heart started trying to escape orbit—fuck just his ribs, how pedestrian—this time.

They sat in a living room that looked like it was once absolutely pristine and still was, mostly, but up close Eddie could see little snags on the sofa, could feel the texture of the fabric different under his fingers for scrubbing out a stain. He suspected four infamously unmannered teenagers were the culprits. The remaining stiffness of the cushions was good for the way his body was still working through being gnawed apart, but he was gone far enough to kind of immediately hope he’d see how they wore with love and use and maybe something more once they got there, once Eddie’s body cooperated again, because he…Steve brought him home.

And maybe they didn’t have to stop when Eddie left the hospital. Maybe he didn’t have to lose.

He’d only made it shortly past the best fucking grilled cheese he’d maybe ever tasted, and he didn’t think it was only because it was his first meal without an aftertaste of sterile in too fucking long—but he only lasted a little more than an hour before Steve’d helped him to a guest room on the first floor that’d obviously been reworked for him, from the way he could reach the bed from just inside the door, to the fucking posters that he knew for a fact Steve wouldn’t have had on hand, and Eddie’d giggled a little wetly at the Ozzy one, because he figured the man steadying him at his side would never be anything but intertwined with the Prince of Darkness in his mind, now—but Steve, who’d more than proven he was so far beyond any kind of king, won hands down. By a landslide.

And who could have seen that coming?

“Careful,” Steve chided him gently as he guided Eddie slowly down to the mattress and made to tuck him in, and the word was so warm, so warm but Eddie had to…

He had to reach. Again. He needed Steve, he…needed.

The handprint on top of his heart didn’t need to be a thing he could see, but he needed Steve to…know some level of what he was feeling, of how much was inside him already, and growing, the momentum building and he didn’t want to feed it, didn’t want to let it run if he wasn’t going to have someone to catch it, to run with him but he also didn’t think there was any chance to stop it, now, he didn’t think he could trim it back or tame it from consuming him and he wasn’t sure he’d even want to if he actually had the power because it was the best feeling he’d ever known, even if it was terrifying, even if it could hurt him more than anything he’d ever known and—

“I don’t want to be alone,” was what spilled from his lips with Steve’s hand above his heartbeat as it pumped so goddamn hard it couldn’t be denied, it couldn’t be misconstrued, and he didn’t want to sleep alone, didn’t want to lose what he’d rebuilt himself around all these weeks, he—

“Good,” and Steve leaned down, cradled Eddie’s face and tipped him up to kiss him full, hard, one hand still on his chest because that was the mark, the promise, the fight for all that this was and all it could be like a fucking vow and Eddie melted for it on sight, on contact.

“Because I’m not leaving,” and Steve brushed the tip of his nose back and forth against Eddie’s, his smile like honey in his tone as he pecked Eddie on the lips one more time before stretching his hand to follow him across the bed, to crawl to the other side and slide in next to Eddie, to carefully arrange him against Steve’s body, to wrap around him with so much care, to touch nothing too tender and everything safe to hold as Steve tucked his face against Eddie’s neck and kissed behind his ear as he breathed:

“Never gonna leave you all alone again.”

And Eddie believed him.

Eddie believed him.

And when, weeks later when Eddie was hurting less and moving more, perched in the corner of the couch that was starting to give a little under persistent weight, starting to feel like it was meant to be used and lend comfort; as Eddie was poking at campaign notes for the gremlins, pen caught between his teeth, he only paused when he felt the gravity of a familiar gaze settle on him—not immediately, because he liked just existing in it, feeling its heft, but after enough moments to satisfy him he looked up, met those eyes and felt them in his goddamn soul as he asked:

“What?”

And Steve had just kept on staring, the bare hint of a quirk at the corners of his lips spreading to the full sunrise of his smile.

“You fit, here,” and he’d said it so simply, so…much like a truth, a fact of the universe—Eddie Munson fits, belongs in this place, this space, this home, this life—and then the smile dimmed ever so slightly, cloud cover across the shine as Steve shifted a little, crossed his arms loose but still as a barrier over his chest: “if you want to, I mean—”

And Eddie sat up straighter, and he reached both his hands out to Steve because:

“I want to,” it was all he wanted, really; it wasso far beyond his wildest dreams but it was real, Eddie could see and touch it, taste it, feel it through his blood when it pumped, tracking through his whole body, filling up his heart overfull and magnificent and he as just…

“Sweetheart,” he took Steve’s hands and tugged him down to sit next to Eddie, settled him so close; “I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want that.”

He leaned back, wholly prone and never once letting go of Steve’s hands, never once doing anything but keeping them laced together and anchored, locked tight and Steve matched him, followed him as Eddie drew him to his healed-enough chest to settle right at the center, to hear Eddie’s heartbeat for the declaration it was, it already was in its entirety:

“You fit here.”

And he did. They both did. Their worlds had shifted, grew around the shapes they made together and after not-long-at-all, they fit so fucking well that it was bespoke to their cells, they’d never fit anyone else. It was quick and it was heady and it was fucking right.

For months

And then it all went to shit.

Because Steve decided what should have been expected, honestly—that Eddie wasn’t worth the hassle, that he wasn’t right for Steve, that Steve’s staggeringly-expansive capacity for love was wasted to hell on this low-life dipshit who couldn’t even graduate on his third try at high school, who maybe didn’t have a murder charge anymore in the legal system but would never wash it clean from the court of public opinion, who was…trouble. Always trouble.

Not fucking worth it.

It’s just…Eddie never thought Steve would stop wanting him. He maybe went in reticent at first, but Steve had loved so hard out the gate that as soon as he knew he was allowed, and welcome? Eddie didn’t hesitate to meet that love beat for beat.

He just never imagined his love would ever be unwelcome; that that's how his heart would break.

What breaks in the moment, though—the heartbreak is constant, and unfortunately proving to be kinda fucking unending, really—but what breaks now is…possibly the handle on the front door for the way someone’s banging and jiggling it back and forth like the first time it didn’t give against the lock was just a fluke.

He frowns, considers waiting out whoever’s enough of a dick to knock like that but apparently not so witch-hunty to throw a brick through the window—which: Eddie will take progress, he guesses—but when a concerning creak sounds from near the hinges, Eddie thinks of Wayne, and how his uncle doesn’t deserve a broken front door, so.

Heartbroken or not, Eddie has to drag himself to deal with…this.

Then he’s throwing the door open and…this is—

“We need to talk.”

This should have been expected. There’s really only one little asshole who’d assault his door with that much…determination.

“Henderson—” Eddie huffs, because he knows he needs to set a date for them all to get together, he left the campaign they were in kinda dangling on a thread when he didn’t hold the gatherings at St—

Well, when their regularly scheduled venue became too much for Eddie’s heart to handle.

Which: okay, fine, he gets it but like, he can’t care as much as he maybe should when he feels like this, and the kids need to fucking take a chill pill and if they can’t understand, then at least they can just shut the fuck up for at a couple more weeks while Eddie licks his wounds and sees if they decide to finally scab over enough that he doesn’t keep with busting them back open every time he breathes—

“About Steve.”

Eddie’s heart shudders just to hear the name. He’s avoided hearing it for weeks, now; it hurts too much.

He hears it enough in his own head, in his dreams, in his nightmares when he see the worst, in the cadence of his fucking pulse because his heart doesn’t know how not to be Steve’s, kinda feels like it’s not interested in learning, will never be anything other than what it is now, forever, and—

“We need to talk about what you did to Steve.”

Wait.

Wait, what he did to—

What?

for @kultiras🖤

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[voidsuites]

FANTASY-THEMED BOT RELEASE !!! (12/20/24) ⌢ ✨ .ᐟ

art donaldson ���゜゜・．angelic inquisitions. he's your guardian angel. while he's not as naïve as he appears to be, art is not as well-versed in some parts of human culture as he is in others. you've opted to give him some hands-on experience when it comes to the more... romantic side of humanity, and that alone in and of itself is more daunting than anything he's done. you'll just have to forgive him if your lesson ends with him short-circuiting any electronics in the area... it's really not his fault.

art donaldson ・゜゜・．siren song. in a small, seaside town like new rochelle, tales of sirens are shared as warnings— and as reasoning for their curfew as soon as the sun sets over the sea cliffs. no one has spotted in one in decades since the town's formation, but no one dares to investigate if the infamous mythological creatures truly reside in the waters that span their coast... all until art's curiosity gets the best of him. what's the point of being wary of something if it doesn't truly exist? he'll quickly come to learn that some legends are based in fact, not fiction.

patrick zweig ・゜゜・．bones and all. you knew patrick was the same as you the moment your eyes met; you don't live with something like vampirism your entire life and not know how to spot it in others. still, with patrick came understanding, and with understanding came connection. still, it doesn't help to soothe the ache that's left whenever your true nature manages to slip out, but patrick would never hold something like that against you. with you both being vampires, there's nothing guaranteed for the two of you in terms of safety and security, and patrick would never forgive himself if you got hurt. everything he does— every thought, every action, every unnecessary breath from lungs that don't require air— is for you.

patrick zweig ・゜゜・．post-full-moon blues. patrick's always a bit irritable and clingy after the full moon leaves its toll on his body, so his routine of trudging in at the wee hours of the morning is all but commonplace at this point. just because it was patrick underneath all the fur, teeth, and claws didn't mean that he was any better than the overactive golden retriever that belonged to the grocer in town, and that fact is all the more apparent when he comes in smelling like the woods, dirt, and wet dog (not that you'd ever tell him that). but sleep disturbances and handsy touches aside...he's had a long night. give him a little break.

tashi duncan ・゜゜・．staking her claim. most vampires weren't dumb enough to encroach on what tashi's claimed as hers— not when she's been around for as long as she has. but when some fledgling vampire at the club she's taken you to puts his hands on her human... it's more than enough to make the vampiress seethe. maybe she should have chosen some other place to take you to— somewhere older, cleaner, and that served more dignified vampires like herself who understood their kind's customs. tashi doesn't share, nor does she ever plan to, and she's more than willing to prove that for all to see.

got a request? go ahead and leave em here :) THANK YOU GUYS SO SO MUCH FOR FOR 7.2K! that number is so crazy i'm still processing it... thank you thank you thank you!!!! these were so much fun to make omg especially the patrick ones... patrick zweig "bones and all"... definitely hope i can make some more bots like this in the future! shoutout to 🥧 anon fr and juliana and diya and lee and the countless other anons who send requests both on here and on my request form... u all do the most and keep this thing going lol. love you guys! <333333

[avelera]

Hi, I wanna say I really like your posts and enjoy your meta's about jayce.

So I wanna ask a question: How do you interpret jayce's behaviour here?

Personally, I have always believed that since jayce came from a family of blacksmiths, he would at least know how to negotiate or essentially haggle to an extent so do you think that it's on purpose that jayce isn't particularly shown to haggle when it comes to his interactions with zaunites?

Also, aside from that I think silco and Jayce's last scene really goes unnoticed by many epssically when jayce genuinely chooses to be fully transparent and honest with silco admitting that he is scared.

Short answer: My interpretation of this scene is that it is meant to show how privileged and naive Jayce is.

Just to be clear, I adore Jayce, but I will still admit to his flaws as a character. But, I will also point out when "flaws" like privilege can also lead to generous or otherwise laudable behavior, because it's easy to be a saint in paradise.

As for the longer answer, Jayce doesn't haggle for a few reasons:

1 ) Jayce doesn't haggle because he's never known real hardship. He's from a family of blacksmiths, yes, but of a particular flavor. He's actually from a family of factory owners and toolmakers. He's middle class shading to upper middle class either by virtue of being the son of a factory owner or certainly by the time Hextech takes off. What Benzo was charging probably didn't cost that much to him, especially with Kiramman money backing him up. He needed the items more than he needed a bargain to have them. It probably didn't even occur to him to try to get a deal because of how little the items cost to him.

2 ) Jayce doesn't haggle because of cultural differences. To a Zaunite, it's unthinkable not to haggle. To a Piltoverian of a certain class, it's probably unthinkable to haggle.

I've felt this cultural difference as a person from the US while traveling. You would never haggle in the area I'm from (I don't claim to speak for the entire US), because most shops have an established price and that's what you pay. It would be incredibly rude in most instances to haggle. But when I've traveled to other parts of the world, Turkey for example, it's not considered rude at all, but expected. In places like the Istanbul Grand Bazaar, it's expected and there's etiquette governing it, and US customers are regularly fleeced for 10x the actual price if not more.

But you have to understand too, in relation to Jayce and as referenced in point 1, one reason US customers get fleeced in those places is because the amount being demanded as 10x more than the cost of the item is still a negligible amount for them. An item that they could haggle down to 50 cents costing $5 instead isn't really a big deal. Especially if you're on vacation anyway, you can afford to be generous, even if it means getting mocked behind your back as a sucker.

And for some there's an element of generosity to not haggling. Why would I haggle to get a $5 item down to $2, when it's a negligible difference for me, I want the item, and the person I'm haggling with needs the money more? Which leads into:

3 ) Jayce doesn't haggle because he's a good person at heart. Zaunites from Ekko to Silco are aghast at Jayce's lack of haggling, so it's not just a financial thing, it's a cultural thing. But even with the case of Silco, I'd argue one reason Jayce doesn't haggle is because he sees himself in a position of strength. He knows that independence matters more to Zaun than it matters to the Councilors in Piltover, who might whinge about it and the potential profit losses of losing sovereignty over Zaun, but they've been neglecting Zaun for years so boohoo, they can suck it up and get over it.

That to me is Jayce's view. Jayce admits that Zaun is asking for a lot of privileges that probably should be haggled over, like access to the Hexgates and blanket amnesty, but all that would do is drag out the process, possibly lead to more conflict if tensions rise again during the negotiations, and it would still lead to the same conclusion: Zaun deserves to be its own nation after Piltover neglected it. Jayce is a direct thinker and he decides it's better to just rip the bandaid off and let the chips fall where they may, rather than try to nickel and dime Zaun's negotiations when it would cost nothing AND be the morally correct choice for Piltover to just let them go.

One a final note: I think one reason we're seeing Jayce become a more beloved figure in S2 is because we can now see how radical and progressive his negotiated peace with Silco actually was.

When we only had the context of S1, Jayce's negotiation can come across as too little, too late, or even foolish. But when you see at the end of S2 that, as far as we can tell, without the negotiation going into place, Zaun doesn't have independence and only gains one seat on the Council, you can really see why Jayce using his position of authority while he had it to cut through the bullshit and right what he saw as a systemic wrong in one fell swoop might have been naive but it might have also been the radical change that the city desperately needed. Granted, we'lll never know if the Councilors were right and there could have been negative consequences to not negotiating more. Maybe handing an independent Zaun to Silco and the Chem Barons without haggling would have led to further disaster.

But as the show's theme constantly reiterates, "What could have been?" I think we can see better now that Zaun didn't get everything Jayce was willing to give them at the end of S1, and that's a tragedy. If nothing else, Jayce's willingness to not haggle even when he could wasn't just foolishness, it was because his heart was in the right place and he thought they deserved it. It might be a long time before there's another chance at that kind of progress again without the Man of Progress.

[bokettochild]

You ever think about how Sky's entire world got turned upside down like...days before what was essentially his highschool graduation ceremony? And, like, my dude got the Skyloft approximation of a full ride to college by winning that one race, but by the time he's saved the world, it doesn't matter at all- this thing that mattered so much just days ago- because not only has he learned more than most of the professors know, but also the school is basically going to be abandoned now

They're going to the surface, they're going to live there. Sky- finished his adventure and saved his best friend, and his reward was losing everything he'd ever known in life EXCEPT Zelda.

No one treats him the same; he's the hero now. He knows things they don't. He just got out of highschool and now his teachers are suddenly the ones coming to him to ask how the world works. He was going to be a knight and he is now, butt his experience is so drastically different from all the other knights around him.

He's this huge world now, this place he only is beginning to understand, and because he's the hero, because he's been here longer, he's the one everyone else comes to with questions. He's their leader now,w hen before he was a lazy teenager they always chastised with warmth, trying to teach him to grow up.

He's still a kid, still younger than the knights, the professors, but he's also the only person whos got much of an idea what's happening other than Zelda. That's got to be weird for everyone. People will come to him with things but they'll doubt him because he's still young, or they'll want to teach him something only to decide not to because he's the hero, he doesn't need their instruction.

Like, the game ends all bitter sweet, but let's be real: by leaving Skyloft, he loses his home, his plans for the future, any conception e previously had of the world, the other half of his soul (his best friend and companion!), his childhood, and probably any sense of freedom he had now that he's got the fate and security of his people on his shoulders now.

And then he somehow ends up meeting the chain. All capable people, who (like his professors, his teachers, his neighbors) know what's going on even if he doesn't, who can handle themselves, who can protect themselves, who knows more than him and are better (seemingly) at this hero gig than him, and Sky? He can finally relax. He's silly again. He's taking naps. He's able to zone out without consequences. he doesn't need to be in control and he's fine with that. He's happy with that. As long as all is well, he's content to just exist here, just for now.

But the moment that peace and security of being with other heroes is threatened? Yeah, that's when the god-killer comes out.

......

Anyways, yeah, I think Sky's more than just a big softie and sleepy-head. Man has issues he is avoiding with the power of ignoring them and sleeping, but on some moments (like Miss Her, or the Sunset arc) we see that he slips sometimes.

Long of the short: I have Sky brainrot these days :)

[genderqueerdykes]

We're appreciating these pro-endo posts as an endogenic, especially the fact you account for traumatized endogenics (we at least notice "usually" and other such words in a lot of posts, and were taught at a young age how to analyze shit because of being autistic) so like...thanks. :)

Hopefully y'all are okay, anti-endos are really showing their asses this time in your asks. And we hope everyone else realizes they have always been that bigoted.

hey of course, thanks for sending this ask!

yeah i don't know why people don't understand that endogenic systems can... also have trauma. like. endogenic doesn't mean 100% free from trauma. anyone can have trauma. trauma doesn't always manifest in the most extreme forms possible like dissociative disorders. like i cannot stress enough that dissociative disorders are a very specific kind of plurality, and should NOT be used as a metric to gauge whether or not someone's plural experience is legitimate or not. the diagnostic criteria for dissociative disorders is so painfully restrictive that a lot of people who probably do have a dissociative disorder don't get the diagnosis because it's so fucking specific

and again, i just want to stress that endogenic systems literally are not hurting anyone. you are not spitting in my face or talking over me as a system with DID. you are being respectful by using a term that suits your experience way better. like idk how that is offensive to people. endogenic systems developed a term to express a specific type of plurality. that's not trying to mock or ape on dissociative plurality. it's not an attempt to talk over dissociatives. it's creating an entirely new conversation that needs to be had

people getting upset about endogenic systems are creating mountains out of mole hills. it is quite literally a nothing burger of a problem. there IS no problem. nothing wrong is even happening. like i cannot overstate how fucking annoying it is when other dissociatives decide its time to get on their high horses and act as if they're suddenly experts on psychology and mental health. like it really pisses me off when other plurals with dissociative disorders decide the entire plural community is about them. the dissociative disorder communities are about plurals with dissociative disorders. specifically. you can still occupy spaces made for people with DID, OSDD and so on and leave endogenics alone and the world will keep turning. the sun will rise tomorrow regardless.

learn to mind your own goddamn business if you can't respect that other people experience the world differently than you do. maybe, just maybe, the dissociatives who are intentionally going out of their way to mock and harass endogenic systems are the fucking problem, here. you don't get to be a fucking bully just because you have trauma. you don't get to attack and hurt people who haven't hurt you just because you were abused. that's literally fucking perpetuating the cycle of abuse. if you think to yourself that because you are traumatized, that it's okay to take your anger out on people who have no trauma, you seriously need to reassess your life. what does that do for you? temporary catharsis? a rush of dopamine that lasts mere seconds? chasing the high of harassing strangers will not undo what was done to you in the past.

as a dissociative- i only understand what dissociative plurality is like. i do not understand other forms of plurality. and you know what? i don't find the fact that other types of plurality existing offensive to me. it's just not. i've been very close friends with so many endogenic, spiritual, natural, etc. systems out there over the years. i have never found it offensive for anyone to say "oh hey i'm plural too!" and then explain a different plural experience than the one i have. thats why the term plural even exists, because it encompasses a broad range of plural experiences, not just dissociative ones.

like, to the dissociatives who are pissed off that endos exist: literally stay in dissociative disorder-centric spaces and tags. they're right there. you HAVE a community that you can interact with who understand exactly what you're going through. if it offends you that you find a VARIETY of plural experiences in the general plural community- that community isn't for you. like seriously. if it offends you that deeply that other types of plurality exist- the general plural community is not for you. it's literally not made for you if you can't except that numerous types of plurality exist. you have spaces you can occupy that ARE made 100% for people just like you. you can quite literally stay in spaces made for dissociative plurals only. like. you can do that. that's an option. and you can stop bullying other people out of spaces that they rightfully belong in.

trauma is never excuse to be a fucking jackass. it's perpetuating the cycle of abuse. that's nothing to be proud of. break the cycle. stop abusing people just because you were abused.

[vaguely-concerned]

:) :) :) hey. hey I'm scrEAMING.

Rook: You know... I think I knew the truth. Deep down. But I couldn't face it. (Varric: Why not?) Because it would mean admitting that I let you die.

Bellara: Maybe when I do, I'll feel it. (Rook: Feel what?) That he forgives me. And that I deserve it.

while we're on the subject of 'stuff that's completely recontextualized once you've played the whole game and that's driving me absolutely bugnuts insane on the replay'... hhhhhow about this scene, huh. I reacted the first time around to just how emotional rook's voice gets in this part (listen to that 'you lost someone important') -- her story is very sad, don't get me wrong, but it's early on in their relationship and it seemed so intense of him out of nowhere. and uh. well now I get it. and it breaks my fucking heart. who do you think rook is really talking to here? just as much as they're talking to bellara? just as much as she is speaking to something in them they cannot face yet, negative space grief you see everywhere around rook in this game when you come back around and understand what you're looking at. they're talking to each other, but each of them is also talking to themselves. all the scenes where Rook is guiding their companions through grief and loss... and winding through, over, under, all those conversations, a separate conversation Rook cannot have yet. because they don't know. they can't bring themselves to know it yet. but it's still here the entire time, leaking into everything like blood or ink into water. it haunts them every step of the way, and no one, least of all them, can see it.

It's not your fault. You have to know that./Then why does it feel like it was? You could switch that dialogue around between them after the regret prison and it would work exactly the same way. Two people talking with one voice of grief, of guilt, of 'he's gone and it's all my fault, I wasn't good enough. I wasn't good enough when it really counted' and not knowing it. I'm kind of speechless at how elegantly it comes together now that I know to look for it, and how much meaning it suddenly adds. It really is so FUCKING good. this game is so good, when you pay attention and start to understand what it's actually doing.

But if you don't learn to get past it, you'll drown. well, rook. you'd know lmao. it really is all

I was much further out than you thought    And not waving but drowning.

up in here in this lighthouse tonight

This convinced me irrevocably that Rook truly did know the whole time, deep down. it's right below the surface of their mind that whole time, kept from them both deliberately by solas and helplessly by their own brain trying to shield them from the pain. that whole time!!! and you can actually track it through the conversations they're having and see all the signs along the way, once you realize it

And now he's gone. Because I wasn't good enough. So I try to make up for it. Honor him. Find the truth. and maybe shared grief doesn't always make for half the sorrow. but it's something. and it's so much more than nothing.

[clytemnestradidnothingwrong]

I was never fully pro-TQ. Around the same time I was introduced to second-wave feminism, I learned about the concept of "transgender" people.

Even in my wokest days, it never made any sense to me, but my mentality was "I don't understand it, but you do you".

I read works by feminists like Dworkin, Lorde, and Friedan in college, and joined social media like Tumblr for the first time. I saw a lot of what I was taught reflected in the rhetoric on here.

Until I didn't.

It almost seemed to happen overnight. Basic feminist rhetoric, especially anything positive about women and our bodies, was suddenly demonized as "TERF rhetoric".

My tumblr was a fandom blog back then, and I kept seeing these posts about those awful "TERFs". When I'd go look at them to see just how awful they were, I realized they held similar beliefs to me. They were still preaching what had been considered acceptable feminism not that long ago.

That's when I realized all these self-proclaimed leftists and progressives had been faking their "social justice" the entire time. Same-sex marriage, women's rights - those were all trends to them, a pet causes to champion until the next fad came along. But trans activism was different in that, unlike feminism and gay rights, it gave them the opportunity to become the bullies they always wanted to be. They could finally express their hatred for those dumb bimbos and those icky homos and it would be condoned, not condemned, with the "correct" language!

Every year, "trans" people and their allies get worse and worse. I've watched it happen. They've become more misogynistic, more homophobic, more racist, more ableist, more ageist. Dumber by the day, and so fucking violent.

But if you dare call them out, especially if you're a woman, they show you no mercy. They de-person you. They threaten you. They make it their pathetic life's mission to ruin yours for your disobedience.

These people pretended to be my ally, then stabbed me in the back with phony smiles and speeches about how it's for my own good.

That's what changed me.

wanted to add this to a post but i'm blocked so i'll just post it on its own for the millionth time

[star-hoon]

number one girl

"I'd give it all up if you told me that I'll be, the number one girl in your eyes"

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

[WORK IN PROGRESS!]

PAIRING. sunghoon x fem reader (best friends-to-lovers! au)

WARNINGS. profanity, (will be updated once complete)

WORD COUNT. (will be updated once complete)

SUMMARY. you always admired your best friend sunghoon. but when did that admiration turn into something...more?

DISC. this story is entirely fiction & does not reflect any real events of the idols mentioned.

AUTHOR'S NOTE. omfg this was so cheesy

pls give me feedback, i'd love to improve my writing so any and all critique is welcomed <3

you can still remember the first day you met sunghoon.

it was the first week of the semester at university and in physics class you were partnered up with jake, the handsome austrailian student (much to the other girls' dismay). although you of course could admit jake was very charming and handsome, you saw him as a lot more than that. he was smart and always patient to give you some extra tutoring when you didn't quite understand what was taught in lecture, genuinely kind, and it was so entertaining to see him never pass up a chance to show you a new picture of his dog layla.

jake invited you to his birthday party at an arcade that also had things like escape rooms and an ice skating rink. you've never met any of jake's friends before so you really didn't know what to expect but after some drinks and games in the arcade, it wasn't too hard to ease your initial nerves around the group of strangers.

"you HAVE to see sunghoon ice skate, i swear he's more coordinated on ice than walking on the ground..." wonyoung says to you as the group walks to the ice skating rink. she was one of the girls there that you got along with really well and she was super friendly right off the bat.

"really? huh... sorry i'm really bad with names, who's sunghoon again?" you nervously laugh to her.

she points to the dark haired boy laughing with heeseung as you all get in line to get you ice skates.

"he used to compete in international ice skating competitions...almost working towards olympic level. but he decided to drop competing to focus on his studies. don't let him try to convince you he just 'skates for fun'... you'll see what i mean," she had a lingering fondness in her eyes.

you couldn't help but to wonder what wonyoung meant but you got your skates and laced them on the benches lining the rink of ice.

"before we all get in the rink, i think it's only fair sunghoon gives a little show before we all totally eat shit on this ice" jake announces to the group, everyone laughing along with him.

your gaze falls on sunghoon, noticing the faint blush on his cheeks with all the attention now on him. you see his faint smile and waving his hands, declining jake.

"oh cmon sunghoon! please! some people here haven't seen you on the ice and you've been telling me you've been dying to skate again..." sunghoon finally gave in.

"fine fine, only because it's your birthday," sunghoon jokingly rolled his eyes. everyone cheered as you all gathered along the wall of the rink. the minute sunghoon started gliding along the ice, it was like a switch flipped. you felt like the person you were watching wasn't that shy boy you briefly met a few hours ago. his aura radiated a confidence but also a sense of comfort. you could feel his emotion with every turn and twirl. you could see his visible passion and love of skating. he was smiling so wide, his fangs poked out and you couldn't help but to smile as well. it was the kind of smile you wanted to stare at forever.

he was freestyling to whatever music that was playing over the speakers of the skating rink but you could tell he didn't need choreography to shine brighter than any of the white fluorescent lights in the building. you understood what wonyoung meant, he truly looked more comfortable on ice than on the ground—and you grew more and more curious about sunghoon.

when he concluded his impromptu performance, you all applauded and jake along with the other boys entered the rink cheering sunghoon on, hugging him and ruffling his hair. you entered the rink, you heart hammering out of your chest in nervousness and anxiousness. you've never ice skated before and you already knew you would make a total fool of yourself in front of everyone.

"wonyoung, i've never ice skated before...can i hang on to you?" she chuckled at your nervousness, finding you adorable.

"of course, here hang on to my arm until you get the hang of it. we can stay near the wall" the few circles you did around the rink was less you hanging on to wonyoung and more you having a death grip on the ledge of the wall—stopping every 2 feet feeling beyond imbalanced. you let go of wonyoung making a full stop.

"i'm gonna rest for a little bit, you can go hang out with the others" you stated trying to cover your labored breath.

"are you sure?" she questioned. "yeah! go for it! i'm just gonna take a breather, i'll join you in a sec" you reassured her. she gave you her signature sweet smile and skated towards the rest of the group.

after a few moments of watching the rest of the group from afar, you attempted to skate towards the center of the ice to join the rest of the group. without knowing still how to maintain your balance and the wall no longer within arms reach, you knees completely buckle under your weight. you were pretty much bracing for impact to have your hands and knees to collide with the harsh coldness of ice at your feet. before you could even fully comprehend it, you felt a pair of arms catching you, slightly easing your fall.

"woah that was a close one. are you okay?" it was sunghoon. his face was close to yours, close enough for gaze to fall on the concerned look in his dark orbs and the mole on his cheek and nose.

"y-yeah i'm fine! t-thanks for saving me, i totally ate shit." you joked, a cold sweat running down your spine in utter embarrassment.

"no worries, thankfully i got to you in time. and don't even worry about it, being on ice takes a ton of practice." his arm still holding onto yours helping you get up. he guides you both back to the wall.

"you're really good at ice skating by the way, like crazy good" he let out a soft chuckle at your compliment blushing. you knew he probably heard that a million times before.

"thank you, it's y/n right?" you nod.

"can i ask why you quit? wonyoung told me about how you used to compete but left to focus on school," the echos of the group's chatter and laugher being background noise to your conversation.

"yeah that's the main reason. i guess that's the simple explanation i give people..." his voice trailing, as if there's more to the story. you raise your eyebrows at him, hinting at him to keep explaining.

“it got pretty lonely in all honesty. competing i mean. i made friends through skating and stuff but when i trained and performed in a competition…i was alone through it all. it made me start to dislike the sport all together…” he sighed. “…and that was really hard for me. and i decided to step down from competing and just skate as a hobby now.”

he saw your solemn expression and reassured you the best way he could. “but it’s good now. truly. i think skating in a setting like this, with friends and just having fun healed my relationship with it.” you both looked out to the group, laughing in unison seeing ni-ki chase jake excitedly.

“basically the best way i can describe it being on the ice now feels like reuniting with an old friend…” sunghoon expresses, putting his hands in his jacket pockets.

“wow, i had no idea. thank you for telling me. for what it’s worth, i think you’re really brave.” you caught him tilting his head with a questioning look.

“well, i mean it takes a lot of courage to give up sometimes. especially something you put so much time and energy into…i feel like so many people think it's automatically a waste or a shame to give something up. but sometimes its just a redirection and sometimes its for the better.”

“y-yeah, exactly…” sunghoon looked at you stunned. you’re the first person to openly and fully understand his story and he didn’t even need to explain it to you his reasoning.

“i think you’re the first person who actually understands.”

you hummed in delight, smiling at him. “looks like we’ll get along pretty well”

“yeah i guess so” he smiles back.

you could feel the sincerity and warmth in his smile. it was different than the ones he gave you earlier. it was a smile you wanted to see again and again.

since that day at jake’s birthday, you and sunghoon have been inseparable. he was your best friend and you trusted him more than anyone else in the world.

he was reliable, he understood you in every way, and he accepted you even at your lowest—not judging you about your past.

you and sunghoon slept over at each other’s apartments all the time, even having each other’s a spare key.

sunghoon crashed at your place that previous night, you two pulling an all-nighter studying and your apartment being closer to campus than his. you two would sleep in each other’s bed but always staying on each other’s side—simply sleeping side by side, most of the time with your backs facing one another.

he had class earlier than you—his dreaded phone alarm going off, both of you stirring awake.

you pulled the covers over your head, groaning at the awful triggering sound of the alarm as sunghoon shut it off. he laughed quietly at your misery.

“hoon, why the fuck did you sign up for an 8am calculus class. who even voluntarily does that…”

"guess i'm a masochist," he sarcastically states, stretching and letting out a yawn. he reaches over your half-awake body, still covered by the blanket still to grab his glasses off your nightstand.

he basically puts all his body weight on top of you, borderline crushing you in the process dramatically reaching towards the table, a mischievous smirk on his face fully aware of his actions.

"hoon! ughhhh you're so annoying, you're crushing me" your voice muffled under the sheet. he laughs, amused by teasing you especially early in the morning when you're the grumpiest.

"sorry my bad" laughter still littering his voice. when you finally feel his weight off your body, you pull down the sheet from over your head.

you didn't realize sunghoon was still hovering over you, his arms on either side of your upper body. his gaze held something different in it, something you've never seen in his eyes before.

was there something in the air? were you starting to fall ill?

you and sunghoon joked around all the time and were in close proximity of each other all the time. maybe seeing each other at embarrassing moments one too many times, but this felt different.

the blue tint of the morning light peeking through your curtains illuminated his figure above you. the white tank top he always wore to sleep emphasized the contours of his defined arms, the thin silver chain adorning his collarbones reflected specs of light. and his messy hair and glasses wasn't helping your suddenly and unconsciously racing heart.

he was close. like really close. maybe too close for two people that were just friends. the air around you two felt thick and it was like you were holding your breath, maybe you were.

sunghoon slowly raised his hand, using his finger to brush a stray hair away from your face. and you swear his gaze wandered from your wide eyes to your lips. his touch lingered down to trace your jaw slightly.

he suddenly pulls away from your body, rising from the bed. he grabs his hoodie draped over your desk chair pulling it over his head and walking towards the bathroom—as if nothing had happened.

— should i continue writing?

taglist (open!): 

@laylasbunbunny @blackberryrains @luv-jungwon106 @woniebae

@gudkc @enha-stars @dimplewonie

thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think <3

reblogs, likes, comments & shares are always appreciated!!

[arsonlookers]

Two Worlds Apart

Pirate Aventurine x admirer Mermaid Reader

With your usual mundane routine, you hide yourself in the darkest parts of the ocean and shadows only to look up at those passing ships leaving by, dreaming of one day meeting him again joining the people up above...

the only thing a mermaid like you can do right now is ADMIRE.

You, as a mermaid always love to explore the ocean, and so does the upper land where dangerous humans reside. In your merman folks always warn you about the danger the human monsters always pose to your kind whenever they are discovered how they will be trapped, devoured, tortured, used, abused, killed, mistreated, and lastly never going to be seen in the depths of their beloved ocean again, forever to be trapped on the living land.

it was never a saying but a warning. knowing that some of your kind did get lost on the shores and will never be seen again roaming in the depths of the sea. Even with the warnings from your kind to be always alert and never trust any human words even if it is the sweetest honey of promises and lies.

You only tend to visit the shore at midnight knowing that people are asleep at this time. You are as careful as not to be seen or discovered by any people on your everyday rendezvous.

except for tonight.

You have been following a young sailor lately, and he catches your attention. he has this otherworldly beauty you have never seen any humans have, and his eyes are so captivating that at first, you thought he was not human at all, maybe he is like you a another being disguising himself to hide his true identity. however he was not.

he is just a human, a cunning, captivating, stunning human you have a little crush on. was it because of his eyes? his voice? or his personality? you don't really know.

and here he is right in front of you looking at you curiously yet still having that smile on his face as he greets you

"oh...sorry for interrupting you dear, I was captivated by a beautiful voice here on the shore" Aventurine scans you up and down knowing your true form he is not scared at all in contrast he walks and approaches closer to where you sit.

"don't be scared, I don't mean no harm" he sits beside you still has this distance he puts in between the two of you "Please...continue your song... it was the most beautiful song I have ever heard in my entire life" he said pleadingly looking at you expectantly wishing for you to sing again

You were cautious and yet relaxed because you dont feel any malicious intent from him, so you continued to sing your song.

After one song you look at him and notice him asleep beside you as the shore is the only noise in the background. you cautiously come closer not daring to disturb his sleep, as you come closer you admire his face and how calm he is when he is asleep, unlike the fake smiles you see whenever you see him.

for a while, you stayed but after you decided to leave for the night.

Aventurine wakes up later as the sun rises on the shore, he was expecting you to be there, to see the beauty from last night. But to his disappointment, you are not there, not even a little trace of your existence he thought it was just a dream after all.

"...a dream?" he goes on his day but in the back of his mind all he can think about is you.

Every night he started this little habits of walking on the shores expecting you to show up and sing to him again.

He was sure it was not a dream, he didnt tell anybody about you. A mermaid on the shore rumors might scare you and got you hunted down that's why he never want to even tell people about what he saw.

One night, luckily he waited. On the full moon you show up again sitting on your spot and starts to sing a different song from last time.

he was yet again captivated and waited for you to finish.

"hi, darling" startled you turn around, and looking at him made you feel relieved?

you tilted your head pretending to not understand him

"I'm Aventurine, if you still remember me from a few moons ago" he cautiously comes closer trying to get close to you. You did let him get close but not close enough.

he introduced himself that night, nothing really happened as you decided to go even before he wanted you to stay for a little while longer.

he sighs in disappointment "I didn't even get to know her name, such beauty..."

Night after night he stayed and waited patiently on the shore for you to show up. you did show up a few times and he did get a little closer to you, that's what he thinks to himself. you talked to him a little he did get your name eventually "y/n? That is a fitting name for a beauty like you" he was smitten, he doesn't understand why but he knows you wants to be with you more, longer, just a little bit longer.

"you need to go? can you please stay? even for a little while? how about until sunrise? " Aventurine pleaded holding your hands firmly trying to convince you. but that didn't work at all

you shake your head "That would be dangerous for me, please let go" you say as you pull your wrist and go back to the ocean.

This little meeting was not supposed to last long, you know that but after a while of secretly meeting him, you also started to feel attached to him. You have never seen this side of him, so vulnerable, pleading, and weak. Every time you looked at him secretly in the morning you know him well enough that he was putting a facade even so it still fascinated and attracted you to a dangerous man such as himself.

however every night there he is with his disheveled blond hair and tired eyes, he looks vulnerable so weak yet even knowing that he is a pirate every time you look at him like that it broke your heart that every time he comes you offers a hug.

You now know his past because he told you the story with his own mouth one night, he was so disturbed by his nightmares that he cried in your arms one night until he fell asleep in one of your songs.

As you gave him your usual hug he melted in your warm embrace every time. As he cared for your hair and held you tight it was a different type of hug as he started to kiss your exposed neck.

you didn't stop him after all he had been doing it for a while now you got used to it, every time you tried to stop him he just gave you a pout and a sad look on his face.

"y/n...y/n...i love you" he looked you in the eye one night, and he confessed every time since that night. it becomes a routine a kiss here and a peck there.

he never crossed a line.

"kakavasha" he told you to call him by his name not the other one who he rarely shows you that other side of his. The cunning aventurine.

"hmm?" continues kissing and giving you a hickey "do you want me to stop?"

for the first time, the way he looks at you makes you feel more heated inside as you make the move and connect your lips to his.

a heated kiss happened as both of your tongues clashed with each other, with the desire of devouring each other in mind. You wrap your arms around his neck and he wraps his hands on your waist sensually massaging the spot.

You cant think straight and so does he.

A night of passion was spent between the two of you, you don't understand why you did it but you were happy to do it.

night after night you spend more and more time with kakavasha the more you too fell deeply inlove with the man.

You know he loves you too, and he wants you too, but he has his missions, his goals.

And you know this was forbidden to do, to love a man. a Human at that. You know the consequences...and the difference between the two of you, you know that your kind live much longer than humans... the idea of you living much longer than the man you love makes you feel despair so what you will do is both for the sake of the two worlds. For his.

like the usual night, you spend it with him you sing a song for him you have sex with him and you express more of yourself to the man you will never going to see in person again. at least he won't be able to see you in person again.

"kakavasha, my love?" you called out to him as he wrapped his arms more tightly around you

"yes, darling? is something the matter?" as he held you closely and pecks your head

"I love you" you said it with a small smile

he was shocked, this was the first time you said it. he was ecstatic, so happy even. he hugs you tight "i love you too darling" he was smiling like crazy

As you lean in closer to his ears, you chant a spell to make him pass out. After he passes out and goes limp on the shore you start to chant your spell to make him forget about you, everything about you, and your every night life. After crying while doing the spell all you san say to his unconscious body in front of you is "Sorry...im so sorry darling, i love you kakavasha"

After that night you erase everything that happened and just leave him to the shore alone as you just stare at him far far away hidden in the waves and the rocks waiting for him to wake up.

The only thing you know you can do from now on is live in hidding.

Aventuirne wakes up confused why he is in the shore, sleeping

"huh?...did i sleep here?...did...miss something?" he sits there confused and tired as if he was loss someone or something, he doesn't understand this feeling of loss??

he looks in the ocean he opens his mouth and is about to call out to... "Huh?? who was i about to call out??" confused by his own action he stood up and starts walking away from the shore

the sun has risen yet he feels like he's missing something while he was asleep, he doesn't understand, he's confused yet he also doesnt know why he is confused

"did I just dream?" he yawns and starts walking away from the shore moving back to his travern

....

...

..

it was sad seeing him forget everything as he moves on. But that was the best you can do...for the both of you.

So you stayed and did what you always do in your mundane night routine, to stare upon his ship like always hiding in the darkest part of the ocean and the shadows of his ship, not wanting to be seen by him or any people. only to dream of one day meeting him again and joining the people up above as the two of you dance your heart out. But for now, all you can do is... ADMIRE from afar....

not noticing a pair of eyes looking at you from above and admiring you from below

A/N : im back yiiieee!! well, can you guess who was spying on her? anyway, it's been a really long time since I wrote something so if there are a lot of mistakes, I'm sorry for it I didn't really proofread it hehe. And I feel kinda rusty when writing again after a really long time:) sorry for the really longtime absence hehe. THANK YOU FOR READING AND ENJOYING ‪‪❤︎‪‪❤︎‪‪❤︎

[sapphicslaylist]

STP: Thorn Scarring & Disability

I'm going to gently tap the fandom with a stick: scars are not just a simple cosmetic detail which can be ignored/removed "stylistically" or given to make characters "cool." They impact a person's daily life, confidence, and way of interacting with the world, and need to be handled with consideration. Therefore, as a disabled person with background in accessibility, I think it's my turn to cover this one.

Going to specifically address this with Thorn, but it applies to others as well (not just because she's the most blatant example, but also as she's a character who the fandom likes to "heal" by removing all traces of her scars. Going to address what this implicates below).

Some important details:

She is deliberately depicted with heavy wounds of a variety of different depths. It can be assumed that they have been accumulated and left open for a significant amount of time.

We know the ones along her hands are the deepest because of Narrator's remark wherein "[she] picks up the blade, slicing through what little skin remains" of her hands and wrists. It is very likely these are not only permanent, but also have the possibility of muting or eliminating tactile sensation in her fingers either temporarily or permanently. She would therefore interact differently with the world if written outside the context of cannon

Further mobility issues may result from the wounds along her limbs. Because scar tissue is less flexible than normal skin, this would further constrict movement.

Some of the shallower ones may heal, yes. But deeper scars typically fade, but not vanish entirely.

This inherently makes Thorn disabled, and removing her scars IS disability erasure.

And it isn't just about physical disability, either. Witch & Thorn deal with removing stigmatization surrounding feminine beauty, and removing that detail does also impede the body positivity which she carries for survivors. Scar victims, especially people with deep scars are often considered "ugly." This especially applies to women, who are expected to cover them up or face value judgements regarding their appearance. The game does the opposite, by placing her hands at forefront within the kiss scene. The reason the kiss is so important is because people who are "non-traditionally" beautiful are still worthy of love - something which Thorn struggles to accept with throughout her route.

Overall, I think that people need to understand that they're not merely a literary symbol. But even within that context, the message of Thorn's route is that you can't eliminate your past/go back to who you were before, and that's okay. Because even if scars fade, they aren't something we can simply pretend didn't happen. They remain a part of us throughout the rest of our life, but we don't need to keep bleeding in the present.

Anyways! I hope this explains it. And if anyone does want advice on how to write these out, you're welcome to ask me!

[lesbiancharliedalton]

I've been editing this write-up for literal weeks now and I still feel like I can't get in everything that I want to convey, but I'll try.

It's officially been one year since I stayed up ALL night (like, til 10-11 AM) editing this, my very first full-length music video. All in one sitting. To most, it's probably just a regular character edit or fan-made music video. To me, it's something else. It's catharsis, love and and an explosive expression of myself. To this day, I still can't quite explain what I went through when I was making this. I had just heard this song for the very first time about 24 hours prior and I immediately knew I had to make this music video. I listened to the song, and immediately thought of Charlie. I knew I had to make this. When it was done, I broke down crying and didn't stop for about 2 hours. I came to a lot of conclusions about myself and my life and I had never felt simultaneously more vulnerable and more accepting of myself.

I was crying, partially, because I realized that I was feeling real, genuine love for this fictional character who had been living quietly inside of me and influencing me for years and years. Which is an insane and crazy thing to say. And at first, I felt shame, because I knew it was crazy, and also because it made me realize I had never romantically loved another human being before, and certainly not to this extent. This revelation first made me feel scared, isolated and embarrassed. I thought it was really sad that I was only able to feel this way, feel this level of understanding and love for someone who would never exist and who could never hurt me. I thought I had matured past that way of thinking. It was embarrassing to know that I could spend hours upon hours crying and expelling all my emotional energy just trying to craft a love letter to someone who could never reciprocate because they quite literally have never existed.

But then I realized that it felt right. I had spent my life with all this pent-up energy and love and emotion and I kept putting it in all the wrong places. Nothing seemed to work for years and I felt disconnected from most of society. I realized that night that it was my own doing. I had been hurt and beat down so many times that I detached myself entirely. I repressed my passions that others dismissed as frivolous, I refused to acknowledge or show my feelings or admit to others how I felt about them and I lived a life that I was absolutely miserable in due to fear of being embarrassed, made fun of, or alienated.

In my fear of becoming alienated, I had alienated myself.

And for the first time in years, things made sense. Through rewatching this movie, through seeing this character again, my eyes were opened. I don't know why or how, but through loving Charlie I started the long and arduous process of loving myself. I saw parts of myself in him and his journey, parts that I had been repressing for years and years. And I saw parts of myself that I wanted to be in this character. I was seeing clearly for the first time.

And somehow, through this movie, this character, through crafting this love letter set to lyrics that I wish I could tell him to his face, I found myself. I realized I didn't need to pretend to be someone else anymore. I realized that by trying to be what everyone else wanted to be, I was making myself miserable and further isolating myself. I realized that I finally wanted to be myself, whoever that is, for the first time in years. It seems like an extremely obvious conclusion to make, but for some reason it took me seeing Charlie for the first time in ten years to really, truly realize it. It also made me realize that through the process of connecting with myself instead of running from it, it would become easier for me to connect with others around me too. I've become much more emotionally open and even braver when it comes to other people. I've done things I would have never done just a few years ago. I make connections with all sorts of new people constantly, and not online.

I still can't explain how sitting down and manically crafting a music video helped me come to all these conclusions that had been banging around in my head for a couple of months, but sometimes personal epiphanies come to us in unexpected ways I guess.

As ridiculous as it sounds, through Charlie Dalton, through loving him, I found and learned to love myself. And it doesn't matter that he isn't real, because the impact that he's had on me is very real, and personally I've stopped believing that it's cringe and now I think it's kind of beautiful. For years, I had convinced myself that I was incapable of love--giving and receiving. Through making this, I realized that I had plenty of love to give, I just didn't know where to put it. I poured all of it into this video. How beautiful to love something so much and have it change you.

Charlie Dalton - VIENNA

[raguonmynieceandnephew]

I've seen so many people say Something Bad is the worst song on Wicked, and even advising ppl to skip it or use it as the bathroom break on the movies and all I can think is...what the actual fuck is wrong with y'all?

Something Bad, to me, is a legitimately emotionally charged and heartbreaking song that touches on the MAIN PLOT of the whole thing. It's the most obvious allegory and the message is so clear a fucking toddler can understand what is going on and what it represents, the allegory, the entire message about oppression, repression of minorities, etc. Do y'all seriously not understand the song? The entire musical?

Like, what the fuck!

And ppl using it as a bathroom break on the theaters? What the fuck! The movie's rendition is EVEN MORE heartbreaking than the stage play! The other animals, the sillouettes, the way the cassowarie and the tiger react to them! AND WHEN DR. DILLAMOND BLEATS? AND YOU SAY YOU DON'T LIKE THIS SONG?

And honestly, I blame the writing. They legit let the animals fade into a subblot, and ppl really felt incentivised to give a fuck about them, and I'm thankful the movie is giving more light to them, but still. I truly hope they flesh out Elphaba's relationship with the animals and they fix the honest shitshow that act 2 really is

[thesummerstorms]

The gingerwort truffle tea hits Rook a lot harder as soon as it has time to enter her blood stream. Around the time she starts humming some Marcher drinking song in Assan's direction, Davrin ends up cutting the picnic short and taking her back to the Lighthouse.

He's a little guilty, sure. He'd meant to give Rook an opportunity to relax, not to put her out of her mind with a hallucinogenic tea. Still, he can't help but laugh a little, especially as Rook keeps trying to have friendly conversations with Assan and the passing Crossroads spirits the whole way home. Her words are growing more slurred, though, so he's glad they don't accidentally stumble on any Venatori or Antaam on the way.

Lucanis walks in to the library just as Davrin is trying to get Arsinoë to settle down on the library couch. He's dressed for a trip - back to Treviso maybe, Bellara had made a comment about spices that morning- but as soon as he spots Arsinoë, his steps falter.

Crows are a paranoid bunch, so Davrin is ready for questioning. Rook and Lucanis are both professional assassins. He knew as soon as he realized what was happening that he'd probably have to talk someone down, reassure them of his intent.

In fact , the general plan had been to find either Neve or Lucanis, explain what happened and throw Rook at them, then find a seat where he would still be able to watch out for her and make sure there weren't complications, but where he was also well out of "clinging" range. Rook's arm had been thrown around his shoulder a little more closely than necessary on the walk back.

What Davrin is not prepared for is how Rook's eyes go wide when she sees Lucanis. The way she immediately stops trying to baby-talk Assan and grows pale and quiet. The crack in her voice when she blurts out- "Please don't tell Viago. Lucanis, please."

Davrin has seen frozen rivers warmer than the sensation that shoots down his spine. Rook's tone... This isn't some recruit embarrassed about being scolded. Her shoulders shake slightly beneath Davrin's hand. Assan lets out a little distressed chirp and rubs against her leg, but for once Arsinoë doesn't respond.

"I knew what was in the cup before I drank it, I promise. Don't tell Viago."

Lucanis's face has twisted up and, really, it isn't exactly a secret that he's sweet on Rook. Davrin is expecting to see his own horror mirrored back at him. A snarl, maybe, if anger draws Spite too close to the surface.

Instead Lucanis sighs. Not a flash of violet or a hostile glare thrown Davrin's way or a flinch away from Rook's pleading expression. Just a sigh.

Resignation, Davrin realizes.

Lucanis moves forward, crouching beside the sofa and ignoring Davrin entirely now as he speaks softly in Antivan. Davrin doesn't catch any of it except for "de Riva" but Rook is arguing back in the same language, so it doesn't seem to be having much effect. She keeps repeating herself - "por favor", he knows that one too- and if he were a betting man Davrin would put money on it being more or less the same refrain as what she said in Trade.

Rook leans forward earnestly, big grey eyes and too wide pupils. Lucanis asks her a question, his tone gone coaxing, and she shakes her head. Then he stands up and Rook puts her head in her hands.

"Hey, listen-" Davrin says tamping down the nervous twitch in his hand before he can reach before his sword. He steps in front of Lucanis instead, because whatever Rook is so worried about, he was the one who thought this whole mess would be a good idea. "Lucanis, it was just a tea. Rook's just having a bad reaction. Why does she keep asking –"

"Not now," Lucanis growls, gesturing with a short jut of his chin back in Rook's direction. "Ask later. Not now."

And okay, Davrin can understand that. If Arsinoë is this freaked out, no point in spooking her further. But he still doesn't understand why Lucanis is leaving, walking out the double doors of the main building and back out into the courtyard. Davrin trusts himself, sure, but Lucanis doesn't feel the same way, historically speaking. Yet he's walking away?

Arsinoë doesn't notice, all her earlier mirth evaporated like the morning dew. Assan is still making little worried squawks, looking back and forth from Rook to Davrin as if he has picked up on her distress and is demanding Davrin fix it.

Except Davrin doesn't know how because he still doesn't get why Arsinoë is so suddenly upset. He doesn't think it's just the tea, or surely she wouldn't have been so cheerful on the way back from Arlathan.

"This is some weird Crow shit, isn't it?" he says, mostly to himself since Arsinoë is too out of it to respond, "What the fuck." Then, he raises his voice a little. "Rook? You okay? Arsinoë."

At the sound of her name, her actual name, Arsinoë flinches.

What the fuck.

The doors creak open again. He hears the distinctive thunk of Neve's prosthetic against the stone floors followed by a sharp inhale as she catches sight of Arsinoë

"What's going on here?" Neve demands. Her reaction Davrin understands; immediately, she's at Rook's side, hands already starting to glow faintly with what is likely healing magic. "I thought you were headed to Arlathan. Was there trouble?"

"Not exactly," Davrin grimaces, watching as Rook (predictably) lifts her head a little at that last word, the one they all like to pretend he doesn't know Neve has taken to using as some sort of pet name for their glorious leader. Normally that would be his cue to take Assan and flee, but now he's just glad the Rook is reacting to something.

"Neve?" Rook asks, shifting in her seat, then gently pushing at Assan to make room for Neve to settle beside her. "Neve, you shouldn't drink the tea."

"The tea?" Neve asks, reaching up to brush a stray curl out of Arsinoë's face, "What tea?"

"Mmm. The tea. Ask Assan. My head is starting to hurt."

"Ask... Assan?" Predictably, Neve places the back of her hand against Arsinoë's forehead, a slight chill creeping into the air. Even more predictably, she looks back sharply at Davrin.

"Look, in my defense, Emmrich said it was fine. I drank the tea. I'm fine. But Rook..."

What Neve would have said to that, Davrin will never know because the doors open again. Lucanis strides in, too rushed to walk carefully and silence the clinking of his weapons. In his hands, he holds a clay pitcher and one of his own favorite cups, one of the ones from that fancy tea set.

Lucanis hesitates briefly, staring openly at the way Arsinoë pressing her face into Neve's hand, the way Neve is pulling Arsinoë closer, bracing her. His expression goes dark and yet when Neve catches his eye he nods, seeming... grateful?

Weird Crow shit.

"Arsinoë, you need to drink this. Hopefully it will help." Rook shudders against Neve, but Lucanis persists. "Viago is back in Treviso, I promise. He needs to know nothing, but you need water."

"Wait, Viago?" Neve asks, "The Fifth Talon? What does he have to do with this?"

"That's what I want to know," Davrin agrees. It's not like he ever though the Crows were great people, but it doesn't explain why Rook is reacting like this just from seeing Lucanis, why she keeps begging that no one tell the man who is supposed to be her mentor that she... what, accidentally been drugged? That doesn't seem like something a thirty year old assassin should be afraid of, much less to this extent.

Maybe it is the tea. It has to be the tea. Because why else would Rook be acting this way about Lucanis? Normally she's the first to reassure him, to seek him out and assure him that the demon shoved inside his skull doesn't scare her, but now she's refusing to take a cup because he poured it.

Lucanis looks wounded at that, brown eyes gone unreasonably soft and sad. Finally, he hands the cup off to Neve and unbuttons his Crow-purple cape, shrugging it off to the floor. Rook's shoulders slump a little at that, and Lucanis must take it as a sign because the next thing Davrin knows, the man is putting a hand on Rook's knee.

(It occurs to him again that maybe he shouldn't be here, but worry roots Davrin in his spot.)

"Rook, it's just water. I promise, cara. If Emmrich wants to give you a potion, I promise to check it first, but this is just water. I give you my word."

It's probably a sign of trust that despite the fact Rook gets somehow paler at the mention of "potions", ultimately she caves and lets Neve help her raise the cup to her lips. Lucanis reaches for the pitcher again, and she lets him pour more into the cup before her head slumps against Neve's shoulder.

For a moment, the three of them who are sober sit (or crouch or stand) locked in a moment of awkward silence. Arsinoë is never this touchy, at least not when Davrin's around. And even if it's different when she's in private with Neve and Lucanis, it doesn't make her behavior less strange.

"Lucanis," Neve asks finally, when Arsinoë seems to show no further reaction, "What is going on?"

"Rook is House de Riva," the Crow replies as if that answers everything somehow, then adds "They're famous for their poisons, at least since Viago became Talon."

"Esma too," Rook mutters from Neve's shoulder without opening her eyes.

"And the Talon before Viago had a knack for them as well," Lucanis agrees, hand back to hovering over Rook's knee as if he's still uncertain his touch will be welcome. "Though not as much as Viago."

"She said something about daily doses of venoms at the breakfast table," Neve remembers. She looks about as happy about that as Davrin feels.

It takes effort not to turn that discomfort back on Lucanis, but it wouldn't be fair to snap at the man when he's looking at Rook like that. "So what... Rook was more sensitive to the tea because she grew up being poisoned? Is this some kind of bad interaction or-"

"No." Lucanis replies, the reconsiders. "Well, some of it, maybe. But that's not why she was asking about Viago."

Davrin's hands twitch with the need to grab Lucanis's overly decorative lapels and demand a clearer answer, but Neve-

"She's afraid of being punished. Her teacher is a poisoner, and she let herself drink from a tainted cup."

Neve's voice quavers on the word punished, unable to hide entirely behind her normal stoicism, but her eyes are hard, with a glint like steel. Davrin just feels cold again as Lucanis nods in confirmation.

"Yes. Crow houses do not all train their Fledglings the same, but none of them tolerate stupid mistakes. If a de Riva found themselves so easily poisoned, without even checking, I would not doubt that the next cup from their seniors would be punishment and lesson both."

"Bastards," Davrin bites out, thinking of Uncle Eldrin and the berries. The cramps and hallucinations had been the lesson, not the preface for more punishment to come. Intense punishment, if Rook's reaction isn't just the heightened emotions caused by the tea.

Lucanis is still looking at Rook with those wounded eyes, still not-quite-touching, even though she seemed to relax when he shed the cape. But the resignation has crept back into his voice like a weight, and he only shrugs at Davrin's swearing.

"Thus is the life of a Crow. We can't afford to make mistakes. Our teachers know this."

"You won't do it twice," Arsinoë agrees, sound almost like she's quoting something. "Because you remember." Sitting up just enough to sip at the cup again, she still hesitates, eyes fluttering as she glances at Lucanis, waiting for his nod of reassurance before drinking.

Davrin's gut churns at the careless way she says it, at Lucanis's total acceptance.

(He was the one who poured her the tea. It was his idea to ask Emmrich about the truffles.)

"Well." Neve says. "I dare say we've all learned some things today. No need to tell Viago. Or anyone else."

"No," Lucanis agrees.

Rook gives a little sigh at that before her hand darts out to catch Lucanis's. "My head still hurts," she complains.

Davrin turns towards the staircase immediately, suddenly sure he wanted to be far, far away from all this. "I'll go find Emmrich. Assan-"

But the griffon had dropped into what Davrin recognizes as a guarding stance, as if set to protect an injured member of the flock. Well, for once Davrin has no compunctions about leaving the feather brain behind with the Crows. And Neve, of course.

"Assan can stay here as chaperone."

He takes the stairs two at a time, all but bolting towards Emmrich's study. The last glance back before he darts into Emmrich's hallway, he sees Neve helping Arsinoë pull Lucanis out of his crouch and towards the little two seater.

[xmads-omensx]

Sorry if I'm overdoing it with yet another request.

Levi Ackerman x female reader

fluff/ one shot

Levi and Y/N are married and they have a 3 year old son. There is a visit from Santa Claus at the mall. The boy learned that his father's birthday is on the same day as Christmas. So, he demands two gifts from Santa Claus for Levi and also for himself. The boy says he also wants his birthday to be at Christmas too.

I don't know if I managed to make you understand. But the story would be fun too.

Thanks. I don't know if the same person can make another request.

DAY 21 - MALL SANTA VISIT

Word Count: 1,591

pairing: Levi Ackerman X wife!reader

content warnings: modern au, they have a child, fluff

Of course, you can send as many requests as you like! I really enjoy writing them so it's no problem at all!

Also sorry it took so long to post, I decided to use it as part of my 25 Days of Christmas <3

Hope you enjoy :)

Furlan was fascinated by the prospect of the shopping mall having a Santa Claus who could grant your Christmas wishes.

He thought Santa was only supposed to live in the North Pole, but his Aunt and Godmother, Hange had told him all about it.

She told him that Santa sometimes had to travel to shopping malls because then he could make sure he was getting everybody’s Christmas wish correct.

He couldn’t wait.

Levi was less than ecstatic when I told him about our weekend plans to visit the mall Santa that Saturday, but he went along with it to make Furlan happy.

That Saturday morning, we had been rudely awoken by Furlan’s excited shouts as he flung himself onto our bed giggling to himself.

Levi took him into his arms before placing a kiss on the top of his head and whispering a quick good morning to me.

Furlan had been counting down the days ever since Hange told him about the legendary mall Santa.

I got myself dressed whilst Levi got Furlan ready, then grabbed my handbag and jacket before heading down to the front door.

Levi had already strapped Furlan into his car seat and had opened the passenger door for me to climb into. As I got into my seat, I paced a chaste kiss on his cheek before he closed the car door behind me.

The entire drive was full of Furlan’s cheery voice singing his favourite Christmas songs.

“Hange!” Furlan shouted, pointing out the window as we pulled into the shopping mall car park. And sure enough, he was right. Next to her beat up pickup truck, Hange stood excitedly waving at us as we pulled into the parking space beside her in Levi’s sleek, black car.

Furlan wiggled with excitement in his seat as he anxiously waited for Levi to unstrap him so that he could rush to his Aunt.

“I didn’t know you were coming.” Levi huffed, secretly glad to see his friend.

“Y/N here mentioned that you weren’t quite done Christmas shopping, so I figured I would come and keep her company whilst you and Erwin finished shopping.” She explained happily, hugging me tightly as we laughed.

“Erwin?” Levi questioned, his eyebrow raising.

“Yep!” Hange exclaimed with glee, pointing at the white range rover that had just pulled into the car park a few spaces along from them.

Erwin exited his car with a big wave as Furlan giggled in Hange’s arms at his Godfather.

“So what, you’re shipping Erwin and I off while you two go to visit Santa?” Levi asked with his usual frown.

“Yep!” I exclaimed, kissing his cheek.

Erwin walked over to the group and immediately began to usher Levi into the mall to “escape the wrath of Hange” as he put it, since he still hadn’t managed to bring a plus one to the annual Christmas party.

Hange and I entered the shopping mall shortly after Erwin and Levi.

The plan was to look in some of the shops before heading to the ‘North Pole’ that had been set up outside of one of the larger department stores in the mall.

We would meet Levi and Erwin there, as Levi still wanted to take his son to see Santa, despite the fact that he was never a huge fan of the holiday, or the excess decorations that looked messy and cluttered when they were hung up in the bust shopping mall.

“So, what have you gotten Levi? Because I have no idea.” Hange asked.

“For Christmas, or his birthday?” I replied.

“Christmas, you know he only lets you get him birthday gifts.” Hange replied.

“I got him a new winter coat that he asked for, and a new teacup for his collection.” I replied. The teacup was tradition, so there was very little point in me even telling Hange that I had purchased it for Levi.

“Ugh, that’s boring!” Hange complained.

“Hey, you asked.” I defended. “And besides, you know Levi only ever asks for practical things if he really needs them, and even then he only asks me to get them for him.” I finished with a laugh.

“But seriously, I want to  get him something and you are literally his wife so give me answers!” She demanded, practically hanging off of my arm.

“Why don’t you get him some new gloves? He likes those leather ones but they have a hole in the pinkie.” I suggested, making Hange’s eyes roll. She never liked getting anyone practical gifts.

“But that’s boring.” She complained.

“But Levi will like it.” I mocked her tone.

“Ugh, why is your father so dull, Furlan?” Hange asked my son who clutched my hand tightly in his own.

“He’s not dull, he just has specific tastes.” Furlan recited to Hange what Levi often said to him when he didn’t want to get the pain sets out.

Hange and I both burst out laughing at my son’s robotic response, sounding exactly like his father.

“Okay, back to the topic at hand.” Hange began once again. “So I can’t get Levi anything for his birthday? Only Christmas?”

“Hange, you know the answer.” I began.

“I know! But I just figured that since they fall on the same day, it shouldn’t matter what I get him because they will blur together anyway.” She explained.

“You do have a point, but you know he doesn’t like his birthday.” I went on.

“I know. I guess I just keep hoping that one year he’ll change his mind and want to celebrate it.” Hange added with a sigh.

“What are you talking about mama?” Furlan asked.

“Your dad’s birthday.” I replied. I didn’t want to have to explain to Furlan why his father hated his birthday.

“Does daddy not like his birthday?” He asked. His large, round grey eyes staring back up at me.

“No, he doesn’t sweetie.” I replied with a smile.

“Why not?” He asked. Shit. There was that question that I didn’t want to ever have to answer.

“Well, kiddo, you know how I don’t like bananas?” Hange asked, leaning down to Furlan’s eye-level. He nodded his head. “Well, your dad just doesn’t like his birthday. He never has the whole time I’ve known him.” She finished, patting Furlan on the head and standing back up to her full height.

“Just get him the gloves so he can stop complaining about the hole in the pinkie finger.” I laughed after a brief moment of pause.

After much complaining from Hange, we managed to buy the gloves and head back to the agreed meeting spot.

Levi and Erwin stood next to one of the pillars by the makeshift ‘North Pole’, Erwin towering over Levi as usual.

“Daddy!” Furlan called as he let go of my hand and ran into his father’s arms.

“Are you excited to meet Santa bud?” Levi asked our son who beamed up at him, nodding his head frantically.

I took Furlan’s hand and led him over to the queue where he was to wait until it was his turn to sit on Santa’s lap.

The line went down quickly as each child took their turn to make their wish to Santa.

Suddenly, it was Furlan’s turn.

He walked up to Santa with a big smile on his face and giggled as Santa lifted him up onto his lap. I rejoined Levi and the others by the pillar.

“So, young man, what’s your name?” Santa asked Furlan.

“Furlan Ackerman!” He exclaimed with excitement, making Santa laugh.

“And what would you, Furlan Ackerman, like for Christmas?” He asked.

Furlan thought for a moment before answering.

“well… I have tow wishes.” He said timidly.

“Two!” Santa exclaimed. “Well, I suppose since you have been such a good boy this year, I can grant you two wishes.” Furlan smiled before answering.

“My Daddy’s birthday is on Christmas, but he doesn’t like his birthday, and I think that’s sad. So my first wish is that my Daddy likes his birthday again so we can all have fun and he can get even more presents!” I could feel Levi tense ever so slightly beside me.

“I see.” Santa paused for a second. “And what about your second wish?”

“I wish that my birthday was Christmas too, so that my Daddy and I can share a party and get more presents too!” Furlan exclaimed with excitement.

“Well.” Santa began. “I can’t change your birthday, but I’ll see if I can do anything about your father enjoying his birthday.”

Furlan beamed with joy at Santa’s words.

“Take this for yourself.” Santa held out a small wrapped package to Furlan, “ And take this for your father.”

Furlan took both gifts, thanked Santa before hurrying back to where we all waited beside the pillar.

As soon as he reached us, Furlan handed Levi the gift that Santa had given him.

“Open it.” Furlan demanded, sounding exactly like his father.

Levi hesitantly peeled back the red wrapping paper to reveal a small keyring with two wings on them. One of them blue, and the other white. It was an insignificant little keyring, but for some reason, it made Levi begin to tear up.

Then it hit you. Levi didn’t hate the idea of his birthday anymore, because he had his own family to re-write the past with.

Furlan’s wish to the mall Santa, made Levi realise how loved he truly was.

And that small, cheap keyring was a symbol of the love from a son to his father, which Levi would treasure forever.