WHEN RHYSAND REALIZES THAT THE BOY THE CARVER LOOKS LIKE TO FEYRE IS THEIR SON AND THEY LEAVE AND HE JUST QUIETLY ASKS IN THE DARK “WHAT DOES HE LOOK LIKE?”
LIKE HE CAN’T BEAR TO HOPE FOR THAT MUCH AND HE’S REALIZING HOW THERE WAS ONCE A POINT THAT HE THOUGHT FEYRE WOULD NEVER LOVE HIM AND NOW HE’S STARING DOWN THE BARREL OF A FUTURE THAT COULD NEVER HAPPEN IF THIS WAR GOES BADLY AND HE HEARS THAT THE CARVER WEARS THE FACE OF THEIR SON. HIS AND FEYRE’S AND HE JUST HAS TO CHOKE OUT THE WORDS IN THE STIFLING DARK
“WHAT DOES HE LOOK LIKE.”
AND THERE’S SO MUCH LOVE IN HER VOICE WHEN SHE, FEYRE, HIS MATE, THE MOST BEAUTIFUL AND POWERFUL THING IN HIS LONG LIFE, TAKES HIS HAND AND SQUEEZES AND SMILES SOFTLY AND THERE’S THAT HOPE IN HER TOO AND JUST REPLIES
“LET ME SHOW YOU.”
AND HE SEES THE FACE OF HIS SON AND HIS HEART CRACKS OPEN WITH ALL THE LOVE AND LIFE AND HOPE WITHIN IT HE THINKS HE MIGHT COLLAPSE WITH IT.
BUT FEYRE’S THERE- SO MUCH LOVE AND LIFE AND FIRE AND STEEL HOLDING HIM UP AND WALKING THEM BOTH TOWARDS THE LIGHT
HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DEAL WITH THIS SHIT- I’M FUCKING NOT.
“We look not at what can be seen, but we look at what cannot be seen. For what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal. For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God. A house not made from hands, eternal in the heavens.”
Concept: stop calling autistics “whiny” because they literally want to scream and claw their skin off when they wear wool, or because eating certain foods make them want to or actually throw up, or because the smell of gasoline makes them gag, or because colorful lights give us panic attacks.
Certain sensory stimuli are literal hell, when I say I cannot eat a deli sandwich I mean I literally cannot eat a deli sandwich, as in I will likely go into a total breakdown or physically throw up if I am forced to. I get nauseous even trying to make one.