#be with someone that you can experience child like wonder and whimsy with

[yrtit]

a lot is bad rn but at least i am very extremely in love

our lives can be hard but when we are together we can be kids again

[kyriefae]

The Flux/Series 13 was a super fun series. (fair warning; spoilers ahead)

Am I a fan of the fact we were starved for content for so long just to get 6 episodes and a few specials in like what 3 years? No. But the episodes we DID get were so great!

I could feel the intent to inspire wonder in the world-building of the Whoniverse again. I heard lines purposively written to punch out a few cheap laughs while moving the plot forward. These are things that are inherent to the legacy of Doctor Who. Whimsy, coy humor, and satire.

Where certain plot points had fallen short of expectation, it was clear Chibs had taken at least some of that feedback and applied it to making the 13th series a memorable one.

Also:

Karvanista! Who's a good boy?! 🤗 Wait, hold on, maybe that's too presumptuous. Who am I to judge anyone's moral status on appearance alone? 🤭

Such a fun character with a classic Doctor Who "secret backstory". On a deeper fan appreciation perspective, this series was and still very much is a sandbox for creative innovation.

The side characters we met in these 6 episodes felt so well established and grounded in the narrative. Eustacius Jericho facing his death in a poignantly heroic way, Vinder & Bel's love story, Dan's earnest appreciation of Liverpool (and most importantly history), heck even Claire was worth her salt as someone to revolve the story around.

Was she captivating? Well, we're talking about narrative structure here so *clearing throat; failing to hide obvious blushing* no? I mean, no. She's really just a vessel for the Weeping Angels to have a voice which makes for an interesting plot device but it also sidelines her own independent will in the story. Still, when that's a "weak point", you're doing well!

Also, Yaz was incredible and I felt like we were finally able to grasp at her individual companion status. Prior to the departure of "the fam", she was the prototypical companion choice but we were splitting time with Graham & Ryan. A common fear people had before the series came out was the inclusion of Dan Lewis being an obnoxious and obvious replacement for Graham... but I don't believe his presence in the story had that lasting effect.

In fact, I think of the scenes we had with Yaz, Eustacius, and Dan as being a time for Yaz to shine in particular as a leader. Clever, calm, and concerted in her efforts. Yaz's demeanor is the only reason that facet of the journey was successful. Her relationship with the Doctor was empowering in that way we impact others through positive experiences. She pushed herself to become more motivated as our time with her moved along and we were rewarded with a meaningful degree of success in her arc through this story.

Plus her love for the Doctor felt so real; so fated to be one-sided.

Rose's romantic attachment to 9/10 had the advantage of an entire plot built around her; elevating her importance to the Doctor as a being we came to know, for a time, as Bad Wolf.

With Yaz, she is, in fact, an ordinary human who doesn't get to have some immense cosmically significant role with a title that gets plastered across the whole of the universe for the Doctor to piece together like a puzzle. She is an incredibly smart and capable person; she is also mortal.

Say what have you about Yaz + 13 (and I have my opinions too of them never kissing) but the Doctor keeping a distance from Yaz while acknowledging her feelings was still rather intentional and thematically moving.

You learn you're this being known as "The Timeless Child" and you've lost innumerable lifetimes of memories while beings you encounter ON THE REGULAR are persistently trying to tear the universe like a chew toy for their pleasure? Sorry, love. Maybe attachment to a human isn't a wise choice after all...

It's a decision made in a moment and a moment is all Yaz & the Doctor have. It adds levels to the tragedy of a romance with such a being that can travel all of time and space.

"All of time and space but no room for me?"

-a line I may have written for Yaz before it was all over

🥹

Maybe I'll write some fan fiction one day around The Flux. Around 13 & Yaz. Maybe something with Karvanista & a version of the Doctor forgotten to time.

Anywho, I love this show. I love it for all it's many eras. I love it for many different reasons. I truly believe value can be had in finding those aspects of enjoyment even when one Doctor or one era speaks more to us individually because what does the opposite hold? What does boundless criticism of "the writing" ever truly amount to?

The internet is teeming with "expert opinions" on how Doctor Who should have been made after every new season but gods is it the rarest thing to find people who choose to love it for everything it has already been and everything it can always continue to be...

That's all from me for now, my lovelies. 💞 Take care, get a shift on, and snack on something that brings you a little joy. ��� Kisses.

[arrimorr]

Hello! Lately I've gotten a huge inspo boost from your personal projects (especially... birbs....) and fanart

and I started to wonder — what media was the most inspiring for you? How did different fandoms influence you and your art direction?

I simply adore the range of different media that you post and talk about (like starting with scifi and ending with forest whimsy) but I feel like there are still some general trends in your artwork! How would you describe your taste(?) in art direction? Or perhaps it's something not possible to grasp and put into words?

Love your artwork!! Best wishes!!! <3

First of all, THANK YOU for this question, it's really really touching that someone is interested in stuff like this. Also SORRY for not answering for so long, because you are right and this IS a difficult question, partly because I view my art direction and media taste as two separate things. If you want to hear more about...birds...and my thought process behind their development, I made a podcast about them after the second episode released. I'm making a guess that you must follow me somewhere else given that you know about my game, so, if you speak the language I won't name you can listen to my rambling in my vk group.

If we are talking about fandoms I think I was REEEALLY affected by Over the Garden wall and Gravity falls as a kid. As well as a bunch of horror stories, I think "pen pal" was the first horror story that made me fall in love with the genre as well as the concept of kids facing situations that even adults may find difficult to handle. I generally love child adventures that have a darker theme to them. This is present in my...birds...game only in emotional manner, BUT, both of my next games are going to be more direct horror stories, so I hope to play with this a bit more in the future. (Also my friend said that "the left right game" explains a lot about things that I like and write and this IS my favourite horror story of all time so...like, cmon, my next game is literally going to be a creepy roadtrip adventure and this isn't even the first horror roadtrip im going to write)

Tonally I'm really inspired by things made by Davey Wreden (the Stanley parable, The Beginners Guide), One (mp100, opm) and Toby Fox. I just love how these guys manage to create silly light-hearted experiences that are pack full with often times difficult emotions. This is something I REEEALLY want to achieve in my stories. Also the Beginners guide became a really big deal for me as a kid because of the way this game literally spoke with the player. Up until the last couple of years I viewed art solely as a way to reduce loneliness and feel a connection with other people, even through the screen, so my main goal with birdcatchers was to recreate this feeling of personal conversation, even if less direct.

If we're talking about visual style, I'm really inspired by Brecht Evens and Plastiboo, and I got into mixed media because of Чистотел in vk. I won't say that Im anywhere close to these people but they are very inspiring for me. Anyways - my current "philosophy" in art is that I want my pictures to have more air in them and also spend as little time on them as possible. This is easy for me in traditional art (for example these chalk thingies), but still not so much in digital, however you can see that I'm kinda doing the same unfinished line art and blurry colouring thing with it too.

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

You have to give infinitely more props to every character who's immortal or at least invulnerable or less vulnerable in some significant way [can't be greatly or permanently harmed by anything or by very much, or just resurrects, Super man, super boy, Klaus, Logan, even Hank or Luthor etc...] and doesn't act like -I- would about it. [They can be shamed and I can't. good luck]

Literally I would simply follow every impulse I had to:

Just walk off, especially into rivers, lakes, forests, and just keep going in that direction until I felt better

Explore wherever the fuck, swim an entire river just to see where it goes, wander off for months at a time because I started looking around and somehow got away from where there were roads

Go look at the moss, and then leaves, and then follow a little creature, and then get hungry and go looking for timmies or some berries, just jump into a river for salmon, whatever

Like I would not announce my leaving either, but I wouldn't wait until I was about to have a mental breakdown to go, I would simply get bored of whatever movie was on or the conversation, or someone would say something rude to me, and I'd just go "Hey I wonder what that island halfway across this lake is up to" and I'd just start swimming.

And experience junkie or not I -really- don't like extreme injury or suffering, but especially not endangering other people, so I'd go about things the most unhinged and patient "scenic" way possible... Like walk all the way to another country [in a big country] or swim somewhere instead of taking or stealing a boat. Take a little photo journaling tour through the desert or forest. Things with motors are for people who don't like to stop and look at the lichen.

I probably wouldn't do drugs much, but without anything being able to harm me I'd be a lot more free spirited about experiences in general. And I'm a writer, and I think that makes me worse. I could literally just test things myself or on myself. I'm not a reckless person, but if you made 90%+ of things not actually reckless for me... All bets are suddenly off. I have time now to figure it all out.

And trying to make me feel guilty for it would result in "sorry I wandered off and got a bit lost, lol" I'm a grown adult who is not contractually obligated to make myself available to other people 24/7 and I was raised by parents who tried to control me with guilt. It stopped working on my when I was a child.

And trying to make me feel weird or less human about it would result in "Sorry I'm autistic and I don't actually value social convention, I'm not hurting anyone... expect maybe the salmon, and frankly I think you need to review what natural human behaviours are, and also what ableism is..." I'm a grown ass adult and I don't answer to anyone who tries to tell me I can't go fishing however I want to, so long as I have my license. [I only answer to OSHA and fish and wildlife services.]

You could try to accuse me of not thinking, or of acting feral or whatever and I'd just be like "No I made the very calm and rational decision that I wanted to go for a walk in the woods and was hungry for fish and that none of this would harm me and isn't really any of your business <3"

The only way to remotely tether me would be if I had a dependent to get back to like my cat, and you would simply be very aware that was the only thing keeping me from downsizing my life to a camping pack with a fancy laptop and existing wherever the fuck I wanted to at any given moment, provided I at least have a fixed address at which to store books and things I collected, and for like, legal reasons.

Like my whole bit is having boundaries and whimsy in my heart... And it would make me completely ungovernable.

Every person/character would be like "why can't you be more like _____" And name the guy who they *currently* get mad at for leaving sometimes without notice or coming back and getting blood on the carpet, or wanting a month off on occasion to go get something out of his system, because by comparison he's the new favourite [Also he doesn't have an annoying fixation with keeping giant pine cones and big fossils and interestingly shaped driftwood that everyone keeps complaining are making the room I was assigned look like I am taking the forest home with me (you were the ones who said I was free to keep stuff in this room and act like I live here when I want to, I can go if you want)].

And OH! Weird 'pets'. My reluctance to kill things I don't have to, plus not having to worry about them accidentally or intentionally hurting me? Oh I would be rescuing things no person ought be rescuing all the time and there would just be a bear sometimes and I'd be the only person who could get near it but there I am with 'my' bear... Reminding you that he is a wild bear. There would be a bear in the pool and people would be like "get your bear out of the pool" and I'd be like "s'not my bear" and they'd be like "Whatever, he's his own bear, yeah yeah, but get him the fuck out of our pool" just assuming that the bear is there because of me, and I'd have never seen *that* bear before in my life but I'd be like "Well I guess that's my friend now and I need to go convince him out of the pool, ig". Eventually people would be like "Your bees are becoming a problem" and I'd have to be like "What bees?" [ig I am adopting bees now?].

Frankly, people would start to wish I woke up and chose violence *more* often... As opposed to my established RP habit of "can I gain it's/their confidence instead of having to kill it/them, and also do they like pies?".

The only reason I wouldn't get kicked out is because when I am around I would be *nice* to people and cook and bake a lot and keep bringing things like smoked salmon. I would be able to have this patience with people because of all the time I'd take not being around people.

And the other guys you were trying to stuff into a mold of conventional living even if it makes them a bit crazy? I'd make them all worse [read: better]. And you'd let me because there would be 20% fewer mental breakdowns happening with my influence, and probably less drugs or other acting out. And way more cookies. But also some people would just stay 100% infuriated by it/me at all times.

"Why are you like this? >.>"

"Because nothing can stop me, and I'm not hurting anyone <3"

[thefilmsnob]

Barbie: **** out of 5

As I was leaving a screening of Barbie amidst a sea of elated fans, I overheard someone saying, “That was so much better than I thought it would be.” Honestly, I didn’t share the sentiment. That’s because I was certain it would be great the second that I learned it was Greta Gerwig’s next project. A wonderful actor and writer, Gerwig eventually directed her first film Lady Bird in 2017 followed by Little Women in 2019, both extraordinary works and two of the best reviewed movies of the last decade. I wasn’t excited for Barbie; I was excited for Gerwig’s third feature.

That feature is half of the ‘Barbenheimer’ cultural phenomenon. Never in a million years would I have pictured Gerwig, the de facto Queen of Indie Films, at the center of two blockbusters vying for box office dominance…in the same week! What’s more, her film is actually winning the financial battle against Oppenheimer, the second film in that portmanteau whose director, Christopher Nolan, churns out blockbusters like Mattel churns out plastic dolls.

One such doll, Barbie, is the star of this film and an American institution launched in 1959 whose instantly recognizable brand floods the hallways of countless stores. Some might view the film as cynical commercialism—this two-hour showcase definitely won’t hurt sales—but, that opinion is reductive. The opening scene alone defies expectations and reminds us of the exceptional talent behind the camera, including co-writer Noah Baumbach, who’s even more ‘indie’ than Gerwig, and both her creative and romantic partner.

You may not know the people behind the camera, but you do know the star in front of it. Possessing otherworldly beauty (narrator Helen Mirren has a killer line about this) and exceptional acting skills, Margot Robbie’s casting is a no-brainer, which is ironic considering how inclusive the cast is; dozens of Barbies inhabit Barbieland, composed of various races, body types and gender identities. That goes for the Kens as well. But, Robbie plays Stereotypical Barbie, a crucial aspect of the story that the film makers stress often, mainly to highlight a standard that impressionable, vulnerable young people experience so often.

And so, the perfect Barbie played by the perfect actor lives a perfect life in a hot pink utopian society where the Barbies hold all positions of power while the Kens, including Beach Ken (a priceless Ryan Gosling), chill at the beach and try, unsuccessfully, to woo the ladies. The nonchalance of Barbie’s rebuff of Ken speaks volumes about this social hierarchy. Robbie’s Barbie has a daily routine, executed as if a child were controlling her, rituals that include sipping from an empty cup and floating from bedroom to driveway because what child would walk her doll down every stair?

This occurs on a meticulously constructed set, realized by designers Sarah Greenwood and Katie Spencer. Built on a solid foundation of whimsy and charm, this community—whose geographic and temporal relationship with the ‘real world’ wisely is left ambiguous—is the product of stunning practical effects in place of tempting CGI. Like in recent films, interestingly, such as Beau is Afraid and Asteroid City, the set resembles a colourful diorama, at once fantastical and tactile. It’s a world of make-believe you can otherwise almost reach out and touch, just like the toys that inspired it.

But toys don’t have sudden preoccupations with mortality like Barbie does during a dance number, handled with perfect comedic timing by Robbie. She’s also horrified by newly flat feet and patches of cellulite. It’s around this point when the story shows it has more on its mind than just brand promotion. That trend continues as Barbie consults Weird Barbie (the delightfully weird Kate McKinnon) who’s an outcast yet the wisest of them all. Lurching about, contorting herself and giving those big-eyed, alien-like looks that McKinnon has mastered, she tells Barbie to find the girl who’s controlling her in the real world.

With Ken stowing away in Barbie’s convertible, the two arrive in Los Angeles’s Venice Beach, enveloped in neon spandex. There’re some standard fish-out-of-water moments played for laughs, sure, but Gerwig and Baumbach also use this framework to explore a myriad of social issues with the same amount of fervor used to entertain. After being ogled relentlessly at the beach, Barbie is cat-called by some construction workers, but that cliché is subverted as Barbie simply and unexpectedly explains that she lacks genitalia. It’s brilliant.

As with Gerwig’s previous films, it’s difficult to pin down a specific message; she explores numerous issues and isn’t one to tie things up in a neat little package. The stories have feminist underpinnings, but they’re never reduced to simple dichotomies like ‘women are good/men are evil’. Yes, men are portrayed as misogynists occasionally or embody corporate greed in the case of the idiotic Mattel executives led by a pompous Will Ferrell as the CEO. We also see the dangers of an impressionable air head like Ken learning of the patriarchy and introducing its flaws to Barbieland, hopefully bringing attention to how insufferable bro culture can be. Yet, Gerwig’s brand of feminism is sympathetic to male struggles too, especially toward the end, even if much of their behaviour is rightly judged.

Mattel isn’t even immune from judgment; the writers get away with a surprising amount aimed at the company, specifically regarding their toys’ negative influence on body image and self- esteem. For a film maker to resist the pressures of both studio executives and the heads of the represented brand, especially with the huge stakes of a blockbuster production, is truly remarkable and a testament to the audacity of Gerwig who’s unwilling to sacrifice her artistic integrity. Mattel also deserves some credit for acknowledging their shortcomings and vowing to do better. Everyone wins here.

That includes the audience, most importantly. Not only are we treated to hilarious, candy-coloured entertainment, but we’re given a smart film for adults that kids will also enjoy and whose insight will benefit both. It challenges corporate power, the patriarchy, beauty standards and stereotypes while promoting inclusion, autonomy and self-confidence, mostly in creative and entertaining ways though, occasionally, unlike Gerwig’s previous films, a bit too overtly if not altogether preachy. America Ferrera, with a soulful and honest performance as the Mattel employee Gloria, gives a tirade about society’s ridiculous expectations of women; it’s hard to refute her argument, but the delivery feels too familiar in this otherwise unique experience.

It’s an experience that relies heavily on its two leads, both marvellous. Gosling eschews his usual dead-eyed intensity for a relaxed turn as a lovable nitwit and does so effortlessly (no offence). It’s Robbie’s (Barbie) world, however, and we’re all just accessories. The roll is deceptively complex, requiring an actor with more than just beauty to be at once effervescent and existentially preoccupied. Both her performance and the story are capped off with one final word that recalls a line (also the final one) by Nicole Kidman in Eyes Wide Shut, appropriate considering Barbie begins with an explicit reference to another Stanley Kubrick masterpiece. It’s a word that Robbie announces with aplomb when it would otherwise be whispered with embarrassment; a word she wields like a weapon, charging forward into a new life in the name of unapologetic femininity.

[fayewoodss]

https://www.tumblr.com/fayewoodss/763267785641082880/i-have-such-a-moral-dilemma-with-my-favorite?source=share

i feel u, a while before i suspected i might have autism (which was also nearly 3 years before i got diagnosed) i also read an rpf fic where one of the main characters was autistic, and i had really mixed feelings reading the comments. they were all constantly calling him cute or infantalising him, and while i was glad they weren't judging or finding him 'weird', it felt odd knowing that those readers saw him as a child or younger than he was. then i had a moment where i realised this was how ive been treated my entire life but less in an 'aww cute' way and more in a 'you can't do anything yourself' way 💀 now though, looking back i can see those commenters were just ignorant about autistic people and didn't know that what they were saying could've come across as disrespectful. they were also clearly on the young side, and fortunately i find that as people grow and listen to others' experiences, they learn how to respectfully treat those around them and understand them better. for me it also helps to be around my fellow nd ppl to talk to them about these things and hear about their experiences too :] (also wow i just finished this and realised how long it was sorry about that 😭)

I'm so so so glad you understand! I completely agree about the infantizilation and how it's like, on one hand people aren't being negative, but on the other it's at the expense of being seen as a person. Because, let's face it, most people do not see children as people, and since neurodivergency is viewed as juvenile, they are also not seen as people.

On the other hand, I feel I'm faced with more negativity as I unfortunately see the side that's more so vilifying autism and autistic traits, taking the "childlike" and turning it into "childish." Just like you mentioned, that idea od "you can't do anything." Personally, that hurts me more because it so far removes autism from being human that it makes it feel impossible to ever think of any space or time where I could be "normal."

I think there can be some good to adding a bit of whimsy or wonder to the representation of the autistic experience, but it's very different when it comes from someone who is autistic or otherwise very well researched and sensitive of the material, as opposed to people who take autistic/neurodivergent traits and go, "ohhhhh, cute!!!"

I also want to say that I would never diagnose or "truth" a real person as being autistic, but I know when recognize autistic and/or neurodivergent traits in people and I don't think it's a bad thing to want to discuss that. I think it's just always received horribly. There is also the issue of people throwing ADHD as a diagnosis or "truth" for every goddamn person but then clutching their pearls at someone making an observation of autistic traits in someone. Just an interesting note, in my opinion.

Also, I'm a super yapper, so never be afraid to send long asks! I love them!!

[sotogalmo]

7 — 9:17

Thinking of this again, but now with a more elaborate thought process then before (and with the new knowledge I have of pregnancy 👍), so imma expand on this.

I believe on why, and within research, one of her reasons for forgetting/blocking out memories is due to "Mom burnout sometimes called depleted mother syndrome, is the feeling of mental, emotional, and physical exhaustion, depersonalization, and lack of fulfillment caused by intense child care demands. Burnout is the result of too much stress and a lack of resources for coping with it. / Symptoms of Depleted Mother Syndrome include physical exhaustion, emotional sensitivity, and difficulty coping with stress. Mothers may experience heightened emotional sensitivity, where their buttons get pushed quickly and frequently, causing them to become angry, hurt, or depressed over even the smallest things." The bolded words make sense with Flor

Another thing I'm learning is how trauma can cause memory loss (trauma that affects pregnancy); but I would say that Flor has selective memory. She doesn't remember the ones that she has felt negative emotions in (the singing has been flipped as she can sing as she wants to. Raspy and 'new' but it's the result of her training). And how, she was technically/practically abandoned by her guardian who then after she was 5 had her working as a scavenger, then once she was 7 had her as a cook of sorts.

Then when her guardian was there the most (5 for scavenging - 7 for cooking and now ~15 close to 16 for being bred), it was when she got bred with someone; a relatively good looking guy, natural red-ish blond hair? something like so. As Sebastian has a bit of a blond color to his hair. — Flor doesn't remember how she felt during the whole thing, but she also thinks that the guy shared that same thought/feeling (it was not mutual on both sides, as Flor a bit demi? She likes personality, but she'll have to know you to feel certain of her love for you. Seb's bio dad didn't want any part of it at all; this was more like anonymously picked). -- Flor also doesn't remember any physical feelings too. What pain? What pleasure? It might've happened, but she's hellbent on being young (as in like, not having to act up and put up a front. She can be childish, and live life like so).

Sebastian was born on September 27 — he was conceived somewhere around December 31 to January 8th (possibly on New Year's Eve for humans! / Do aliens have holidays?); current time frame, this makes him 21 when he performs on stage (Flor would be 40!).

But how it has affected Flor, during her pregnancy; it's made her much more moody (as expected, but it's MORE moody then regular moody? If that makes sense). The article that I'm reading has too much, and is explaining too much (which is good!! I'm learning and knowledge is fun), so at best I'll just say that she has selective memory and that has been pumped up quite a bit, since she's now a mother!!!! She's a mom!!! But she's only 16 now!!! She wants to be whimsy!!! (and so, she forgets at the best she can. She does love her son, she does. It's just too much and too weird and too out of the blue. She can't handle too much pressure and it's weird. — she wasn't as present because of her feelings on this whole deal. But she holds up a face so that her son wouldn't know any difference. She tries her best to take care of him)

(this is just making me wonder how others would react. Especially @minori-dash / @skyisjusthere ,,. Saying how Minori thinks of Flor as her true best friend,,, learning how she's been made a mother quite against her will, will probably stir up somethings!!!)

The reason why I'm exploring this and basically-practically making it canon, is because I want to explore the idea of motherhood. It has honestly been talked to me ever since I can remember, or as far as my selective memory is. "You'll marry a man and have kids", has plagued me since then (I was around 9? Maybe maybeee 7? Late elementary kid age, close to middle school age I would think). <- I'm just projecting but she's my OC and one of her inspos is me irl, so !!! I do what I want.

12:53

I've been reading some stuff (yes I take screenshots of some interactions, I think what others can make is very beautiful), and I've gotten to the part where @apriciticreveries & @rockwgooglyeyes have been talking about Nyx and Asa being related (with Cinna & Cas ( @lookatmysillies ) related as well).

And well, it got me thinking for Flor. Since, in all honesty her design for her stage outfit has her with her tummy out and I've added a lot of stretch marks there, while normally people would have stretch marks nearly almost everywhere? Arms, thighs and such. But I think I added too much on Flor's tummy, and so I think the only way to explain that is that maybe Flor was also bred?

I can actually see it happening, and with the song of The Court Jester "a new found memory after rest", can be about the fact that after a long while of repressing the thought/memory of ever being pregnant (she's scared of pregnancy, and all of that) . I think it would just explain some of her behavior and looks???

And I mean, I don't think it would be too far off for her to actually be bred as sad as that sounds. One of her siblings (which, all of Flor's siblings are based on my actual siblings in real life- along with her Guardian actually being inspired by my own mom), has two kids which Flor likes being around! Flor held both of them when they were born, and when she was able too. And after all of that, she's like- gotten a higher 'baby fever' even though it's weirdly mixed with the fact that she doesn't like them as well (and how she's somewhat jealous? That they can be free and innocent before it's too late).

Flor's guardian is a “““traditional””” woman if that explains it a bit. She did make comments before on how Flor was to end up in love with a man, and have kids (to which, Flor was just confused on because now she's dating THE Rosca. So like. There's that). I don't really know how to make sense of it, but I think this kinda does explain it well??? Anyways- (something for my BIG ASS POST explaining every damn character and symbolism I have for Flor. I'm done with Spaceboy's, and I'm almost done with Carlos's so take this)

*But, maybe, she can also connect with him by the fact that they would both have a biological child of theirs. Larakiraboshinogotokuamuuru for Carlos, and Lorashishiboaninisshu (Flor comes up with weird names for her kid(s),,) for Flor. I think can explain why she even has stretch marks on her stomach area! She mainly has them on her inner thighs, but it's weird that she also has them around her stomach area… and I think her being a parent would explain it well. But quite sadly <- but for this, she's a bit unaware of that. She represses A Lot, and having a child would affect her mental state so she has sought to forget (but she is a caring mom! She likes kids! One of her siblings (based on my actual siblings), has her own kids and Flor really enjoys being around them even if she's somewhat jealous of how innocent they are and such).

*But : all of this is taken from my doc, on which I'm explaining why I went with characters that make up Flor! This is a part of her connections with Carlos Marlon (Gluttony arc) from Evillious Chronicles!

I just think that this idea is actually so interesting,,, hell I've been thinking that maybe Hyuna could be one of Flor's kids but like a descendants of sorts.

Wait! Maybe!! Sebastian (Alnst OC- his og name is unknown, but he was named Sebastian by his guardian) can be one of Flor's kids, by the fact of his whole clown aesthetic which I guess can be inherited in some way. But I dunnoooo tbh.

This idea is actually just so interesting, and would kinda work well with Flor's character..... (Which, if you want an age for her when she was bred and such; probably around 13-ish? At least 15 I would think though)

Flor is just now; "despite the horrors I stay silly". In a nutshell

(Flor, Cas 🤝 Nyx: having biological children (for Cas & Nyx it's against their will, Flor semi consented to the idea but thought it was a joke). The Emperor (Cas) The King (Nyx) and The Jester (Flor)!!!!!)

[tratserenoyreve]

for all its charm and color and whimsy i’m like. regularly floored by undertale’s weaving of heavier plot with all the candy-sweet humor, it coats the darker elements and asks you to take your time to reach it, but like.

you start the game on a child’s grave (you don’t know that it is when you start, you can completely miss this knowledge, but it is), and the end of the game has you pass those of others. the driving force of the story, once you reach any of the endings, is about two children who died and their family who grieves them. it’s subtle and sparse in the details, asks you to put together the details, but that is how the story is.

a child who hated people fell down, alone, and was adopted and loved by monsters. the child chose to die thinking that would free their new family and they put the weight of completing that task on their brother and best friend. their brother, who did not have the same experiences that led to their sibling hating mankind, could not bring himself to follow through with it and died as well.

their ghosts haunt the whole game, flowey is a flower coated in the ashes of asriel and the memory of chara follows frisk and the player as they awaken confused and lost in the underground. while you can’t fully save either of them, that is the tragedy of it, you can remind them that it is possible to be loved still as they are. but, you aren’t even required to do that much. you can even choose to make their outlook worse.

there are so many little bits of flavor text and extra narration you can come across that expands on these things. the “jokes” that are told to woshua, which i believe are told by chara, talk about two children playing in the mud, then of what it’s like to be buried. it’s so creative in how it uses the game as a medium to tell this story. and undertale is a pretty short game!

so like, it’s really no wonder that deltarune is shaping up to be much the same way. it is hilarious and resplendent and haunting. i’ve seen people be a bit perplexed as to where some imagery is being pulled up from but it’s text in the game, characters speak of Heaven and an Angel, the Angel’s Paradise as something that must be banished, the dreemurr family has a book of hymns by the door.

in chapter two you learn from alvin at the graveyard that the monsters’ faith does not have a concept of sin, and yet for years asriel would go and beg forgiveness for himself and for kris (over trivial things but still). who would have introduced the idea of something like sin as a bad thing to be feared to someone like asriel? (i imagine it was kris, who looks away from pictures of humans in a book and quickly shuts it to put it back on the shelf)

there’s still a lot of the story left to tell, i wonder how much we’ll be able to piece together by the end.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Aaahhh can I pls request a family imagine where Cheka draws on his arm with markers so that he and Leon have matching lion tattoos?? (=^w^=)

Tagging @jessamine-rose, as this was originally their request, made off-anon.

Tumblr mobile was being dumb and didn't save the completed version of this before posting. This just happens sometimes when I have stuff in my queue 😭 I had to take the initial post down, rewrite the other half of the imagine that didn't save, and then repost it (which is what you're looking at now).

Imagine this...

“... tan! Ojitan!”

Leona groaned, tumbling onto his back and pressing a pillow over his ears. No dice--his nephew’s persistent voice still cut through. A familiar, high-pitched and cheery whine that made Leona’s head throb unbearably.

“What is it?” he snapped, glaring at Cheka from beneath his pillow arch. “Can’t you see I’m trying to sleep here?”

“You’re still sleeping? It’s so early in the day, there’s so much time left to do stuff.”

"That's precious napping time for me."

"You're so weird, Ojitan."

Leona let out a sardonic rumble of laughter. "You have no idea."

The cub grinned, putting a hand on his uncle’s shoulder and gently shaking him. “C’mon rise and shine! I have something cool to show you!”

Ugh.

Leona rolled his eyes, but relented with a sigh. (From past experience, he knew that if he didn’t, he would soon find Cheka sitting on his on his stomach.) “Make it quick, then.”

“Hehe, okay! Guess what I have?”

Leona’s gaze was immediately drawn to Cheka’s right hand, which had remained behind his back the entire time. Clutching onto a drawing pad, no doubt, judging from the markers and torn papers scattered all over the floor of the room. The efforts of childhood whimsy and wonder.

Instead of smiling, Leona frowned. “I thought I told you to make it quick. And I despise guessing games.”

“That’s no fun, though!” Cheka leaned forward on his tip-toes. “Guess, guess! Only one time is good.”

“... A monkey’s uncle.”

The cub’s free hand flew to his mouth, attempting to shove his giggles back in, but to no avail. “That’s silly!! You’re not a monkey’s uncle, you’re my uncle--and I’m not a monkey, I’m a lion!”

“I wouldn’t have known that if you hadn’t told me just now,” he replied sarcastically. “Thanks so much for enlightening me.”

“You’re welcome! Hehe, I’m surprised I know more than you do.” Cheka flashed a grin, ever the oblivious child. “Okay, thanks for waiting! It’s time for my big reveal!”

“Oh, goodie.”

Cheka revealed his right hand, which was balled into a tiny fist. His fingers unfurled, revealing... nothing in his palm. Leona stared down at the emptiness, his expression blank, touched with a little dubiousness.

“... Are you surprised?” Cheka looked hopeful.

Leona threw his head back and laughed. “Is this some sort of a joke, furball? If it is, it’s not a very good one.”

“That’s only half of the surprise! The other half is... this!”

Cheka reached for his left sleeve and yanked the fabric up, revealing a flash of ink upon his caramel-colored skin. Black as burnt sugar, pointed teeth and a mess of a mane sprawling out... not unlike the dark swirls that danced upon Leona’s own left bicep.

“Ta-daaah!!”

His eyes bulged. “That’s...”

... A really crappy imitation of my tattoo.

“Cheka. When the hell did you find the time to do this?” Leona demanded, thrusting a finger at the marker-made mess on the boy’s arm.

“You were napping up until a little while ago, so I sat around and looked at your arm to copy it on mine!”

“You were watching me sleep?!”

“I needed a model! I can’t remember what the tattoo looks like from memory....” Cheka’s ears flattened, worry marring his innocent face. “Um, Ojitan... Could it be that you’re angry with me?”

“... I don't care. Better you than Rook,” Leona grumbled, sinking back into his bed. “You’d better wash that off before you head home. The servants will be beside themselves seeing their impressionable little prince like this.”

Leona grimaced at the thought over their beady eyes bearing into him again. As though he was not already regarded with enough scorn. To them, he was less like a man and more like a wild beast. Simultaneously feared and hated.

“Nuh-uh! I’m never gonna wash it off, cuz I wanna keep matching with you!” Cheka declared stubbornly. He flexed his left arm, causing his shoddily done lion’s mane to flicker. “I’m gonna be just like you one day! I’ll be smart, and strong, and cool... Oh! And I’ll even be a Magical Shift star, too!!”

“Don’t make me laugh. There are tons of role models for you out there. Better people to look up to and idolize, like your old man. After all, you are his flesh and blood... and the prized prince of the savanna.”

“What if I want to be like Papa and Ojitan?”

“You’re chasing an impossible dream.” The words came out more strongly than he had intended them to, each syllable dropping like a cement brick. “If you were smart, you’d know when to quit.”

You’d accept second place and be done with it already.

“... You don’t want to follow in my footsteps.” Leona waved a hand, his tone bitter. The once vibrant viridian of his irises had dullened, twisting into something darker.

“Your future’s brighter than mine. It’s so bright, it hurts my eyes to look at it,” he spat, his spirit shining with spite. “That’s what’s waiting for you, so you’d better take it before someone else comes along to try and steal it from you... someone like me.”

Cheka went quiet, staring at his uncle with a startled expression. The look of an antelope ensnared in a predator’s trap. Hurt and fear, all culminated into one. “Ojitan...”

He’s the same as them. I should have known.

“Do you get it now? I’m not someone worth some wide-eyed kid’s admiration,” he snarled, turning away from Cheka--afraid to meet that sparkling gaze, full of endless possibilities. “If you understand that much, then leave, and--OOF!!”

A small body tackled into his from behind, cutting Leona off. His assailant planted their face against his broad back, and their scrawny arms wrapped around his waist to give a squeeze.

“Leona Ojitan... I didn’t understand everything you said just then, but... I think I kind of understand. You’re... hurting right now, aren’t you? It hurts so much that you don’t know what to do.”

“Me... hurting?” Leona scoffed, even has he balled his hands into fists. His fingernails dug into his palms, leaving marks. “Ridiculous. You’re imagining things.”

“I don’t think it’s imaginary.”

“... What do you know? You’re just a kid.”

“I know lots of things!” Cheka tightened his grip on his uncle, his muscles straining under his skin, the lion of his makeshift tattoo stretching thin. “Like when you hurt like this, a hug’ll make it all feel better! Papa and Mama told me! So... Until it stops hurting, I’ll keep hugging you like this!”

“You’ll what?!” Leona paled, starting to buck and flail against his nephew. He attempted to pry him off, only to have the cub immediately cinch back onto him moments later. “O-Oi, Cheka...!! Let go, I don’t want--no, I don’t need any hugs, damn it!!”

“Hehe! Nope, I can’t do that! Our arm marks match, Ojitan! So I want our smiles to match, too!” The cub squealed, rubbing his cheek against his exasperated uncle’s. “You can’t run away from me!”

“This is why I told you to wash off that stupid marker...!!”

[bangtanblurbs]

young forever

song: young forever by BTS

first experience: strangely enough i have a very visceral memory of when forever young dropped. it was during finals week of my final year in undergrad. the song released on a sunday in the wee hours (or perhaps a monday? - days tend to run together during finals week). i didn’t have many assignments due that year since my course load was light and i was really just coasting into grad school the year afterwards (at the same institution i attend for undergrad). i remember logging onto youtube and catching the video as it premiered. i was stunned. HYYH pt. 1 and HYYH pt. 2 were heavenly to me, so of course young forever was greatly anticipated for me - the aesthetics, continuation of the story, and also simply getting new bangtan music. the cotton candy color pallet loaded onto my phone screen, and RM’s beautiful voice can through my earphones... i was immediately in love. 

every member looked completely stunning. the message i got from the video was... incredibly powerful. the maze. the lyrics. all of it resonated with me, a young woman -- 22 years old -- soon to turn another corner in life. i sat in my dorm room preparing for a busy week, as i was the RA in my dormitory and needed to help my students move out that week... as i prepared for my graduation and transition into my next step in life... i was also shipping out to macau, china for the summer in a few weeks so i geared up for that. this video dropping was almost a breath of fresh air from everything going on. i was able to really sit and enjoy it, but also reflect on my past, present, and the future to come. 

feelings: well, i have quite a lot. as someone who has been chronically obsessed with the story of peter pan since age seven, i’d say that youth is something i value - perhaps a bit too much. what’s interesting though is young forever isn’t necessarily about youth in the rawest sense... it’s also about dreams, reaching the point in your life where you’re happy, with yourself, your circumstances, ultimately your place in life. which i suppose most people equate that with youth, the innocence and naivety of it all. for me, thinking about forever young is kind of about that anxiety we carry as we get younger - have a made good use of my youth? did i squander it, getting caught up in the day to day or bogged down by my demons? the worry that our youth is our prime and when it’s gone, where do we go next? retire? it’s kind of funny thinking about this now as I’m 27 instead of 22. do i feel any older? no, not really - i feel the same. the same energy, the same zeal for life. do i look back on the days when i was younger and think that my youth is gone? no. for me - youth - it’s a state of mind. it’s an ethos, a way of proceeding forwards in my life. i didn’t always think this way - perhaps that was wrapped up in my anxiety about getting older. i used to lament my birthday each passing year - god turning 23 felt the absolute worst for some reason. it’s funny now though - how i almost feel younger, lighter, now than i did. youth should be a feeling of unburdened peace right? ideally it would seem so - but the reality in our world today... youth is pain. youth is struggling. youth is stumbling through the dark and trying to figure out who the hell you are, who the hell you want to be. i still feel like i’m stuck in that place, that place of wonder - of reaching out, exploring, experiencing... i feel as naïve as ever despite the pain that courses through some of my life. 

so back to young forever - how does the song make me feel? it makes me feel at home. at peace. forever we can carry our youth, forever we can approach our lives with childish curiosity, with the energy to follow our dreams, with a dedication to our passion, and an and endless realization that change is the only constant in our lives. despite the ups and downs that might come with living with this mindset - i wouldn’t want to live any other way. what’s the point of continuing to grind hard every day in the cruel systems our society has built if we can’t at least say we did it with voracious appetite to experience fully our surroundings, emotions, and imaginations?

personal connection: it’s rather hard for me to nail down all of my personal connections to young forever. as i mentioned, i have a really strong connection to the story of peter pan. i’ll briefly explain why and how that plays in here - but i must warn you... if you’re uncomfortable with strangers oversharing on the internet, perhaps this isn’t the blog for you to read. i’m quite comfortable bearing my soul to people i don’t know. for some reason vulnerability has never been something i’ve struggled with - perhaps it’s the naivety i love about myself. anyways... here we go.

when i was 17 my best friend passed away from cancer. it was relatively quick. just a summer we spent together gossiping in a hospital room, machines beeping while we tried our very best just to giggle about boys and lament our torturous IB courses. i’d known her nearly my whole life. meeting in second grade - and bonding quickly over a love for the whimsy of peter pan’s story. we’d gush on the playground about flying away to neverland - where we could do whatever we wanted. explore, sing, fly. but she was gone then. gone far too soon. frozen in a youthful state in my mind. her passing is still the hardest thing i’ve ever been through in my life, and i’ve been through some scary shit. immediately when i hard young forever i thought about her. i thought about how she lived. she was fearless. the bravest and strongest person i ever knew, and still to this day, have ever known. knowing her - experiencing her soul - it changed me. once she passed away i had to be strong, my classmates looked to me as their rock, my parents forbid me to cry, everyone pushed me into adulthood way too quickly. i was just a seventeen year old girl. i was having a crisis - i wanted nothing more than to speak to my best friend as i navigated choosing my next steps after high school. but she wasn’t there, and i wasn’t allowed to feel. i was terrified. my youth was gone. nothing seemed fun anymore. youth became pain as i looked around at my peers who were back to normal in a matter of weeks. giggling with one another, moving along with life. i became a robot. quickly i threw myself into school work. i was already a high achieving student but i climbed higher. i worked harder. i had decided that for the life she couldn’t live, i would live it for her. i’d go to the best college i could, i’d do all the things i never dreamed i could. i’d do it for her. but i wasn’t living. i had let my youth go. i was fading away. just a shell. 

it’s funny. or perhaps it’s not. young forever is a comfort song. a comfort song with some incredible darkness in it. the anxiety in namjoon’s verse, yoongi’s speaking to hiding feelings - pushing forward despite what he carries, hoseok’s verse about letting himself go and just giving what he has to keep pushing. their words - that’s how i felt. the song dropped around four years after my friend’s passing. i needed it before then. although perhaps it wouldn’t have “saved me” because music doesn’t save, music gives us the strength and comfort we need to save ourselves (i’m not a fan of taking way my own agency in MY story), it might have offered me a light in an increasingly blurry world. 

a year prior to the song’s release i’d spent a summer in china. my life changed there. i lived with seven incredibly bright middle school girls. that experience, i never thought it would start to heal me the way it did. they were under immense pressure (the education system in china is total bullshit)... and they told me “caroline, youth is pain. it’s not beautiful. it’s a period where we struggle the most.” i’d never heard this. the typical western perspective is that youth is “the most beautiful part of life” - it’s where you fall in love, it’s where you get hurt and you pick yourself up, it’s where you find yourself, you feel invincible. but that’s just it - it’s also where you can get incredibly lost (like the maze in the video). not all of us experience youth without pain. this perspective helped me to heal. i wasn’t so alone - i wasn’t squandering my youth, sure - i was treading water - but that was okay. i could cry. i could feel. and so, at this point i began to write my own story again. rather than living for someone else, i decided to throw the book out the window, to pick myself and run like hell towards what i wanted. to accept the freefall of life. that’s youth. that’s the most beautiful part of life. the part where you free yourself from whatever chains society has on you. youth is only associated with being a child because that who should be the most free. when truly youth, youth is that period in your life when you learn to live for yourself, your dreams. dream, hope, keep going. don’t fucking stop.

so this brings us to 2016. i was weeks away from a new journey abroad when young forever dropped. i was doing better. life felt lighter. i still had a long way to go, but some things i’d gotten right. i gained confidence, i navigated my interpersonal relationships with more poise. etc etc. going to china the second time, it changed me more. i did things on my own i’d never dreamed of doing. crossing multiple national borders, making friends with people i couldn’t communicate with. i opened my heart to it all. and i fell in love with myself. for the first time. i fell in love with how completely i embraced my freedom and coupled it with my drive, my passions. that is what young forever is about. it’s about the struggle but the continued commitment to the state of mind that once you’re free - once you embraced that childlike state of being - you can achieve so much happiness. 

which brings us to now - how do i connect to the song now? much in the same way that i did before. carrying these emotions connected to this song so deeply into adulthood has been incredibly touching. i’ve matured with bangtan. from 2015 to now. i’ve only grown in how i embrace my youth. sure, i have to conform at times, play the adult, but the motto “dream, hope, keep going.” that’s what i live by. nothing can change that for me now. i’m still fucking lost, but i’m running like hell. i have my setbacks, my demons, my challenges, but i’ve never been so fucking free. that’s young forever for me. thank you for reading my story. 

song breakdown:

musically: something i truly love about young forever is that it’s really atypical in how it flows musically and the entire structure of the song. it’s creativity run wild - it’s a story and build. and i love that. it starts off slow, soft, with a sweet sadness. the highlight isn’t the backing track, it’s the honey rap voices. it’s absolutely perfect. understated and building. with each new voice that comes in the beat speeds up. it’s like running. which is fitting. because the story in the song is that of bangtan. the lyrics say it, the boys are worried - worried about how well they’ve done, when they’ll stop gaining success, concerned that all of this life will end, wondering who they are in this - the performance the journey. they are quite literally running towards their dreams. we see this in the song lyrically. 

once the chorus comes, we need an increased speed in the beat and the song picks up with the chanting of the mantra. “forever, we are young.” us together, bangtan and ARMY. the song fades into the beautiful clapping beat, the refrains of dream, hope, keep going. musically the song is beautifully understated in a way that can only draw out the listeners’ emotions and highlight the charged encouraging lyrics. the story here is clear and only more illuminated by the musical choices. 

vocally: young forever is such a treat. it’s a rap heavy song, but not in a way that takes away from the beautiful second half of the song which is full of beautiful vocal line refrains and ad libs. it’s a chant song. a comfort song. and perhaps that’s why it’s stuck with me for all these years as one of my ultimate favorite BTS songs. 

when the song begins we are greet by namjoon’s beautiful low rap register. he delivers the rap melodically slow. you can appreciate the way his voice carries emotion and the tempo of the beginning story, of the emotional journey the song embarks upon. following namjoon’s beautiful voice is yoongi. who assumes a slower rap style initially. he has a few parts where he treats us to shout rapping as well - which give us kind of a pleading emotion - we can hear his lament for the pressure placed upon him as he stands in the spotlight. finally, rapline is rounded out by hoseok - i’m gonna say it - this is one of hoseok’s best slow verses. he offers his usual spicy tone, giving the trap style endings to each line. the emotion hits it’s peak with the punch tones and hoseok’s strong committment to his lines expressing his desires, his drive. 

the second half of the song is dominated by the beautiful tones of vocal line. taehyung leads us into the chorus with his beautiful deep register, followed by jungkook’s high tones. the juxtaposition of their voices coupled by jin and backed by jimin’s beautiful melodies is absolutely stunning. rapline takes turns coming in with the refrain “dream, hope, keep going.” all of this mixed together is simply stunning. it’s like hope in vocal form. we have the low and the highs, the singing voices and the speaking refrains. most devastatingly is jimin’s forever ever ever - piercing the background of the song. highlighting the longing - the conviction - to youth - the spirit of it, the beauty of it. the chant portion of the song is also what makes this song so devastating to hear live. everyone comes in, blends together and makes the message resonate completely. 

lyrically: here. we. go. a DEEP DIVE. i think firstly, it’s important to start with the fact that we have a song, young forever, that was released as the epilogue to two devastating HYYH albums. HYYH was the epitome of youth themed albums. it encapsulated everything we associate typically with youth. love songs, songs about pain, songs about healing, songs about not being enough, songs about our dreams, songs about being lonely... it’s all there. both the beauty of youth and the beautiful pain of youth dominate HYYH pt. 1 and HYYH pt. 2. then, those messages, those themes, were sealed with epilogue: young forever. why? well, my feeling is this is bangtan’s way of leaving us with the reality that youth isn’t something that’s fleeting. it’s not an age or state in time. it’s something we carry within. it’s how we approach the things we confront in our lives, how we live and move forward through adversity towards our passions and dreams. 

now - with that out of the way it’s time to dissect some lyrics. there’s quite a lot here in the three rap verses so i truly hope to do them justice. 

namjoon’s verse starts like a story, “the curtain falls” the end of a performance, often used as metaphor for the end of a certain point in one’s life. “the curtain falls and i’m out of breath / i get mixed feelings as i breathe out” clearly the chapter that’s closing for him has been an exhausting one, but he’s not sure about moving forward even though now he has the time to finally reflect and see what he wants next. to me, this speaks directly to where bangtan was at this point in their career. they’d been through the bullshit - the trainee days, the ridicule, the exclusion from the typical korean music system... they’d made it. I NEED U had one awards, RUN did as well, 2016 bangtan had begun to see the fruit of their labor pay off - but with that, what’s next. where do they climb next? what’s to come? there’s that feeling of unease for namjoon. “did I make any mistakes today? / how did the audience seem?” are the next lines, bringing in that sense of reflection. even though now he can breathe - he worries, what’s his impact, how do people feel about what he’s given them, did he have shortcomings? these thoughts flood in and set the mood for the next steps forward. these questions only become more as the pressure continues. the next and final three lines of namjoon’s verse group well together and offer us much more hope that the foreboding in the start of the verse: “i’m happy with who i’ve become / that i can make someone scream with joy / still excited from the performance.” the peace in these final lines, it’s kind of like the rest of the song - starting with the hardship, the unease, what must or has been overcome - mellowing out to realization that things will keep going on. namjoon is at peace with where is at the end of this chapter, he is glad he can stand on this stage bringing smiles to faces, and finally - the buzz of just being able to do music, that remains with him through all of the constant pressure. something about these lines, they’re beautiful.

just like that, yoongi’s verse begins. he provides the same metaphor to the listener. he is standing on an empty stage. the performance is over. the chapter is closing. HYYH is becoming the past for BTS. the struggles, will they be over too as they move forward with their progressing careers? “i stand on the empty stage while holding onto an aftertaste that will not linger for long” he begins - he knows that the high of this moment, the place they’ve reached in this time... it can’t be forever, the emotions of it all are beginning to fade into something else. he then moves on to offer some more insight into how he feels about that unknown of moving on: “while standing on this empty stage, i become afraid of this unpleasant emptiness.” this line seems telling to me - yoongi is someone that gets a lot from recognition, achievement, sharing his works with others. leaving the stage, moving away from this performance moment... it’s hard on him... he feels empty, his moment, his purpose - they’re over... at least for now. the anxiety seeps in. “within my suffocating feelings / on top of my life’s line” he starts to try and explain deeper his emotions, suffocation, a feeling of panic, likely anxiety or pressure induced. what’s next? will it demand more? he’s on top of his life’s line - he feels like he’s reaching his peak, not knowing where to go next, plateau? down? yoongi then lodges into almost a picture perfect description of what society can make us do in moments of pressure where we are feeling anxiety or panic - “without a reason, i forcibly act that i am fine / this isn’t the first time, i better get used to it” he’s going to put on a strong face, suppress how he really feels because at some point there could be another audience, he remains on the stage even if the curtains have closed. he forces himself to do so, and it’s a habitual thing for him. it sounds like truly this is habitual for yoongi - really needing to mask his fear, his panic, his anxiety for the sake of those watching. it tears me up, because it seems like he also knows that this will continue in his future. and the he realizes that keeping the mask on, it’s not something he’s able to do or perhaps interested in doing “i try to hide it, but i can’t.” the final lines of his verse leave us with some unease - they’re unclear - but perhaps they’re speaking to the fact that performing won’t be his forever... “when the heat of the show cools down / i leave the empty seats behind,” so at some point -- the excitement, the hype, it will be gone... those who want to see him, they’ll be gone too, and he’ll move on to what is next. or perhaps this could allude to the fact that the pressure of those watching goes away and he will finally feel comfortable? there’s a lot here. a lot left up and open.

and finally we round out rapline with hoseok’s verse - which leads us into the chorus and refrains. the first three lines of hoseok’s part go hand in hand with one another - they’re a natural progress of coping with one’s emotions and situation: “trying to comfort myself / i tell myself the world can’t be perfect / i start to let myself go.” the chapter is closing and hoseok is trying to tell himself, it’ll be okay. almost like listening to the song young forever - seeking comfort. a home. realizing that things aren’t always going to go his way, he can’t have this moment forever, and sometimes things are going to be ups and downs... the final line is perhaps the most startling, letting oneself go. realizing that there’s some pieces of yourself that are okay to let go, whatever is holding you back, keeping you stuck, sometimes we need to shed that to go forward with the youthful exploration that keeps life invigorating and exciting. or perhaps hoseok is thinking about the day in which he will let “j-hope” go and just be hoseok, without a stage in the traditional sense. “the thundering applause, i can’t own it forever” he moves on saying that this life won’t be his forever, at some point he will need to move on - realize that this moment is down, lose himself to it, and see what is next. yet - even with this knowledge hoseok continues “i tell myself, so shameless / raise your voice higher” it seems that there’s a conflict he’s facing - letting this moment go or screaming as loud as he can to hold onto it, and shamelessly so - letting go of all the constructed norms for how he should behave. perhaps, holding onto his YOUTH even as he grows older in age and should grow away from a youthful mentality. he is raising his voice and hopefully pushing forwards, perhaps just away from this stage and onto an even larger one. it seems this is the case “even if the attention isn’t forever, i’ll keep singing” he states. he will hold onto his passion, keep moving forwards with his music, his voice, his connection to whatever it is that wants to be connected to him - because this is his very soul and being. finally - hoseok closes out his verse “as today’s me, i want eternity / forever, i want to be young.” it seems that hoseok is choosing to be who he is at this moment, his youthful self, as long as he goes on. he will leave this version of himself, this beautiful, loving, hopeful version of himself as his mark on the earth for eternity. 

moving into the chorus we have the iconic title line “forever we are young” which to me, it’s about taking youth forward with you in all that you do. taking your passion, your drive, your love, your hope -- pouring it into all that you do and not letting the outside spoil you and take that from you. keeping your passions and running towards them. that’s the core of the message in young forever. 

jungkook then croons “under the flower petals raining down / i run, so lost in this maze” bringing us to think about how seasons change - flower petals can fall because of their abundance but also because they we are moving into winter. either way, the analogy of flowers is hopeful to me. blossoms on trees - the return in time. not the same blossoms, but just as beautiful as the previous ones. perhaps he’s speaking to the fact that the blossoms are falling now as the chapter is ending - which leads into the feeling of lost, of being in a maze... but the reality is, the flowers will come again. the can come again. so long as they keep running - there’s a chance for this beautiful moment to happen once again. that’s youth. perhaps you have your ups and downs, your moments in the sun (your spring days) and your cold days... but keep running, keep your energy, dream, hope, keep going. and you can return. 

jin then offers the other refrain “even when i fall and hurt myself / i endlessly run toward my dream.” THIS is youth. this is it. that almost stupid attitude of not recognizing when you’re down and out... not recognizing when perhaps you should stop. turning up the energy at your weakest point even when authority is telling you to let it go. this is the essence of youthful hope and energy. even if they’ve failed, even at their lowest point, they’re cementing that they won’t stop until they achieve their dreams. once again. dream. hope. keep going. just keep fucking going. 

finally the other refrain that is repeated throughout the chorus: dream. hope. forward. forward. is the direct translation. but, many would say it’s dream. hope. keep going. this is youth. our dreams, childish and pure. our hope, what we pour into ourselves, what we surround ourselves with - the light that keeps us going. and then constantly moving forward continuing even when our odds look bad. this shit resonates. bangtan did it. they dreamed, 7 boys at a small company. they hoped, holding onto one another, working hard, baby steps forward. they kept going. no matter the ridicule, the setbacks, they pushed forward. these words - they mean the world to me as i’ve pushed through shit in my life. i’m only where i am today because i, by some miracle, internalized this youthful mantra. allowing myself to dream, those moments of hope, pushing forward no matter what. that’s youth. that’s young forever. 

performance: well this is shaping up to be quite a long post. i want to discuss both the MV and how live performances typically proceed. i’ve also attached to this post my personal video of young forever at the HYYH: the epilogue tour in macau. sorry for my screaming in advance. 

MV: the MV is really interesting for the HYYH universe, although the same could be said for save me, which is technically in the universe... BUT the fact that the MV steps away from the storylines and almost takes us into the minds of the characters bangtan is playing is an interesting choice. we start off the video with the boys in a chain-linked fence maze, wandering around, and flashbacks for each of there characters. the overall aesthetic of the video fits with the lyrics and these feelings of uncertainty... the feeling of being lost... wandering from phase to phase in life. early on we see a scene of yoongi burning photos from the HYYH era - truly this song is about death to the past a new beginnings, overcoming the past but moving forward with the pieces of you that are important. the highlighting of the text “꿈 희망 전진 전진” or dream, hope, keep going - making it the mantra of the song. keep moving, keep running. almost it seems like the characters are running away from their demons as well. the members running off into the sunset together? it’s all about endings. new beginnings. but taking them on with determination and an attitude of childlike awe, glee, dreams, and determination. 

performance: we’ve all seen the iconic wembley performance. we’ve probably all cried over it more than once. maybe it’s your comfort video? maybe it’s secretly mine (ha!). i can tell you, experiencing this song live... there’s really nothing like it. it’s understated. there’s no dance. nothing like that. 

in the performances - namjoon appears alone in a starlight stage with the lyrics scrawling on a screen behind him. the lights are all dark, deep blue tones everywhere, it feels dreamy. the entire crowd is brought into a dream like state. it’s fitting, its absolutely fitting and incredibly stunning. yoongi then appears to namjoon’s left and hoseok to his right to be spotlighted for their respective verses. the emotion is everywhere. the song is even more incredible with a live band. you cannot imagine it. the chorus arrives with a change in vibe, a beautiful sunset is projected and the vocal line appears from the floor. all of the members stand shoulder to shoulder and belt the chorus and refrain. and you would not believe how devastatingly beautiful it is to hear ARMY shouting along. forever we are young. kkum, huimang, jeonjin, jeonjin. shouting together. again and again. clapping with one another. waving ARMY bombs. it’s completely emotional. i cried. i cried on the strangers next to me, that didn’t speak my language. there is nothing like it. 

i must also note, the concert i was at we were all distributed lightsticks and banners with 꿈 희망 전진 전진 written on them. this song has been important since it released. it’s the core of bangtan’s rise. it is so important to these boys. and to many of us fans as well.

now - a word about what happened at wembley. bangtan had no idea that ARMY would sing young forever TO them. at WEMBLEY. fans who likely do not speak korean. chanting their mantra to them “kkum, huimang, jeonjin, jeonjin” and singing “foreverrrrr we are younnnnng” and saying they will keep going. they will walk their journey towards their dreams. something about that, it’s incredibly toughing. you and i cannot imagine how that must have felt for bangtan. the moment must have been completely surreal. one of the world’s largest stages, playing one of the most meaningful songs of their careers - a song meant to memorialize their climb to fame, their accomplishments, their youth that they likely felt the LOST during this climb to where they are now. jimin himself said that night “this song. wow. this song helped me a lot when things were really hard.” young forever means so very much to bangtan. it always has. and their fans chose that very song. we chose that song (rather we were there or not). it’s our mantra too. whatever we go through, we are on this journey, and we are not alone. we are not alone. we can muster the strength to carry on with that same youthful zeal for life. watching that video... it’s moving. it’s completely incredible. to be a part of this journey... just wow. 

tl;dr: in conclusion... young forever is one of the BTS songs that has the most touching meanings, and it came at a very delicate time in their career. a time when they were finally getting the recognition they deserved and sought for a long time. a time when they were pivoting from “young” to “young adult.” a time when they likely struggled with a loss of their youth. all of this... it’s powerful because it’s not alien for those of us normal people. we all feel this. i’ve felt it as i’ve gone through tough shit and came out the other side changed, only to have to find my way through the maze and back to myself. youth and being young, it’s a state of mind. i think bangtan sincerely know and believe this. that’s what makes the song and the message it carries so incredibly powerful. so meaningful to us all. thanks for reading yet again. 

[sharonisthebettercarter]

speaking from direct experience of the numerous abusive relationships i tried to "fix" because i so badly believed in that fucked up disney mentality and thought that if i "just loved hard enough", everything would be perfect?

yeah... i'll vouch for that. not particularly the happiest past here, have had too many friends and familiy with the same if not similar 'disney-esque' mentalities that have faced an insurmountable amount of harm because of said mentalities, drilled into them back when they just kids, have had WAY too many toxic people in my life i've needed to cut off cold turkey because of just how bad things got for me, but if just scratching the surface of the whys and hows serves as a warning to help others, i'll gladly talk

also, lmao, think i know who made this<3

disney has a lot more to answer for than just abusive relationships, how many times have we seen little girls develop eating disorders because they wanna be *just like a disney princess*?

and while sure, you could argue that disney never intended for that to happen, they can't be held *directly* responsible, that people take fantasy to the extreme and misconstrue it and they have no control over that.

you'd be wrong. just flat out, in my humble opinion.

and this is coming from someone who fully fully FULLY supports artistic freedom. i think all art has a right to exist, good or bad, tasteless and disgusting or fantastic. troll 2. i think there's something we can learn in almost all of it, whether through analysis or criticism, or both and beyond, art holds its own intrinsic value with humanity and the lessons we learn and grow from or with, or even in just keeping our dumb asses entertained

question is, who is it targeting? how far does the influence go? and is the messaging responsible?

disney is a multibillion dollar megacorporation with their thumb in a whole lot of pies, and a knowingly HEAVY influence on society today, and they weren't so small back when their first "love stories" came out either.

while there's some debate on whether or not walt disney had mal intent behind some of his creations, there's no debate that any subliminal messaging to be found directly influenced the young minds of very vulnerable children absorbing the content like sponges, without a disclaimer in sight or too often, no educated enough adult to help explain the difference between fantasy and reality and how some things sincerely aren't okay in reality.

the reality is that we should never *assume* that someone, especially a child, can simply *know* or learn something by default with zero help or discussion. (hence this long ass psa, yet again~)

setting aside the very classic and well known toxic positivity disney touts, they may not have been directly leading children into abusive relationships and situations, but they completely destroyed entire generations abilities to recognize psychological ***red flags*** with their portrayals and examples of "true love", as well as gave abusers both excuses and fucking BLUEPRINTS on how to catch and KEEP a victim.

disney *can* be linked almost if not directly to the reason a person will *STAY* in an abusive relationship, once they've already taken that leap of faith or lost the luck of the life draw. Why? because DIRECTLY from disney's portrayals, those ***red flags*** are held in high esteem, *romantic*, *beautiful*, *the ideal*, when the reality is so much fucking worse and to our inevitable detriment.

abusers go out of their way to *paint a fairytale*, and once they know you're hooked on the whimsy and *magic* of this *too good to be true* person, that's when the switch flips. and you wonder and *yearn* for the person *that never was* because it was a ruse designed to FOOL you.

and the most ironic bit about it is that almost every fairytale disney managed to get their claws into actually HAD a well thought out CAUTIONARY tale and lesson for children. gruesome for some, sure, but ripped apart by the disney rendition nevertheless.

the original beauty and the beast is SO MUCH FUCKING BETTER than the sorry excuse for glorified STOCKHOLM SYNDROME made by DISNEY. the difference being not only the reason the beast is cursed, but how beauty ends up at his castle AND how he treats her vs. the toxic and abusive fucking family members she has.

to put it bluntly, SHE WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO BE HIS PRISONER.

BUTT, I DIGRESS.

setting aside all of the disney bullshit, it doesn't get any bit better with the way the mcu portrayed steggy in these two movies.

the first movie, point blank, had her do something BLATANTLY ABUSIVE AND PSYCHOTIC when she SHOT AT HIM.

hmm.. let's see. because he cheated--oops, NO. they weren't together. RIGHT.

SO. because she felt JEALOUS when another woman kissed him, because she felt... ENTITLED to his body and affection when there had been ZERO prior discussion or promises made.

so basically, she shot at him, when steve owed her NOTHING, and he'd done nothing wrong.

yes. that is motherfucking abusive. and it is a motherfucking red ass flag.

by endgame, we see steve go back for a promised dance with a woman... who'd happily lived her life moving on without him, that he'd never dated, was never actually with, and never even had a fair discussion about CONSENT with, after he's callously abandoned and mistreted her niece--by choice.

and peggy is... apparently okay with this???

oh right, the niece is just a gross stain afterthought and collateral, and she always felt entitled to steve's body despite no conversations about the subject, or even a first fucking date! *perfect* and *lovely* right~?

well, i guess we can forget about her having autonomy or actual motivation and care beyond steve's dick, whichever version this was, because if it's the peggy of the main universe? she lets hydra win~... yay, or at the very least is the worst fucking spy known to exist, and gives no shits about her niece at all.

and if she's the alternate? well, she really gave no shits about *her* steve, given this being a *different* steve she readily accepts while *hers* is in the ice, and this much older *not her steve* gives equally no shits about the actually peggy *he knew* seeing as she still lives out her life without him, *and apparently a husband and kids that were collateral and she gave no fucks about because they weren't steve*.

but who cares! she was gross and old and steve now gets to be with a young identical clone of the woman he knew--oh... ooohhh...

pick your poison. gross misogynist steve rogers who thinks all women are replaceable and interchangeable? or creepy uncle steve who knows he makes out with sharon, watches her grow up, and does nothing to stop it... because perfectly fine i guess to swap women, yet again.

of course, setting aside who steve was a character, first off, and also the fact that he always abandons his not good enough non-nuclear family~<3

SOMEONE told the writers of endgame that the final scene with steve and peggy would *ruin the whole franchise*, because they apparently joked about it with atwell in an interview she did regarding the scene.

i'm willing to bet it was stan lee who gave them this very observably true advice, and the mouse chose to dance and stomp all over his grave the second he died for another chance at one of their most awful 'love stories' to date.

dreamworks was always better at REAL romance anyhow~<3<3<3

[albusofecclesia]

Creative Writing - Academic Burnout

(inspired by this Dark Academia self care post by archaic-stranger)

Within the Order of Ecclesia’s dormitories, Albus lay on the couch in his quarters, splayed unceremoniously on his back with one arm slung over both eyes to block out the bright light of dawn piercing through the picture windows across the room. Academic burnout had struck hard. Compounded with his recent travel fatigue, he had become entirely overwhelmed by the last two years of intensive training - both physical and mental - and simply no longer had any drive to move, speak, or think more than was absolutely necessary.

Master Barlowe had given him some reprieve time to sort himself out, encouraging Albus to report back to him whenever he felt ready. While appreciated, the crux of the matter was that Albus wasn't entirely sure when that would be ready. Not having subjected himself prior to such an intense level of burnout, he had naively figured it would have abated after a day or two of rest. Yet it had been four days since his return, and an all-encompassing metaphorical weight sat  on him, draining the willpower to do even the most basic of menial daily tasks. It was starting to concern him. Or rather, it concerned him when he could manage to 'feel' at random intervals interjecting themselves into his presently numb and brain-foggy experience.

He sighed laboriously, the culprit of his melancholia-like state presently a mix of numb boredom, and languid, liquidous apathy for himself and everything around him. He knew he ought to at least get up and find breakfast. Getting out of bed and dressing for the day had already felt monumentous, sapping the reserves of his carefully cultivated energies from the last few days. If he were in a moment of lucidity, he would lightly chastise himself for finding such a simple, normal thing to be so difficult. But it wouldn't serve him any further to be irritated with himself - no matter how tempting negative self-talk would be during the uselessness-inducing miasma he found himself in.

Dramatic eons later - which in non-burnout time was twenty or so minutes - he wandered near-trancelike through his quarters, towards the door, and out into the hallway. A polite few nods were managed with the odd colleague that Albus passed as he descended the stairs to the main floor, pausing briefly by the pigeon hole mailboxes in the common area foyer. To his surprise, there was something in his inbox: a single parchment folded once width-wise. He hadn't expected anything after collecting his stack of mail upon his return to the order. So this letter was a complete surprise.

"To a wonderful, magnificent friend and human being. I've never met someone so strong and giving and kind against all odds the way you've been facing everything. Take the time to relax, you deserve it."

Well that was a lovely start. At fast glance there appeared to be no signature, and while the penmanship looked a little familiar he couldn't quite put his thumb on who might have written it. Why had they chosen to remain anonymous?Following the complimentary blurb was a list of items titled 'self-care ideas'. He quickly scanned the list, noting the first few and lumping them together in their relevance:

• brew a cup of your favorite tea and look out the window for a bit • cut up some fruit to eat and arrange it nicely on a plate • bake something or make a nice dinner for yourself

Tea and fruit sounded appealing. Main breakfast hours would start soon, so he would have to be quick if he wanted to secure himself something from the mess hall before having to deal with an onslaught of students and faculty.  Requesting tea and fruit from the kitchen staff wasn't quite what the list had suggested, but once he received his order, he found a spot to sit near a window and rearranged the fruit slices and berries on the plate in some semblance of a floral mandala. Once the breakfast tea had brewed and cooled sufficiently, he held the cup in both hands as he let his gaze wander to the outside scenery. Little thought passed through his mind. It was equal parts unsettling, and yet somewhat nice to just have a silent inner self. Yet, it was strange - he was so used to his mind always working, deducing, planning, considering, analyzing… having such an active brain was something he had quietly prided himself on.

What if this was the new 'normal' for him? Is this was it was like for 'regular' people? For non-academically gifted folks? Goodness, how boring. He stopped his motions at that thought and paused to gave his head a light shake. This was not a healthy worldview to further entertain. One must maintain some level of altruism, and use any gifts with a modicum of humility.

Closing off those thoughts, he removed the note from his pocket, unfolded it, and continued down the list:

• reread an old favorite book - or just your favorite chapters • [read] about something you find interesting, even if it’s one you’ve [read] before • read some poetry, or write some of your own • make origami with book pages • tidy your desk

The last thing Albus was interested in was looking at another book any time soon. And yet, the ideas were solid to his reasoning and he hoped to find the energy to entertain them in the next few days. Although, perhaps if he tried the first item, it might kindle an interest in the following suggestions. Once returned to his quarters, he went to his desk and perused the shelf where he had curated favoured books and tomes. They were all academic and research-based in their own way, even the more topically 'spiritual' books. One book held his interest for a few minutes, but he really didn't have it in him to continue to read further on ritual entrancement practices of the world.

A quiet sigh elicited, and he abandoned the reading suggestions for the time being. Especially the origami with book pages? The absolute audacity. But he considered making an attempt with note paper later. As for tidying his desk, it wasn't entirely messy but it wasn't absolute chaos. Organized clutter, despite the oxymoron.

• lie on the floor for and listen to music

Well that sounded a bit silly. But it was different, and might shake things up a bit. A record of an orchestra playing works of Tchaikovsky was chosen and set up on the gramophone. Albus eased himself down to the floor and moved to lay flat on the carpet, feeling a bit ridiculous as he did so, listening to the music for a few moments. He couldn’t quite decide what to do with his hands, changing them from clasped together over his chest, to spread wide out on either side of him. The whimsy of the activity made him feel a bit like he was a child again, which was soothing for a few seconds before he decided he'd quite had enough of engaging in such behaviour. Sitting up, he looked at the list again.

• put on classical music and take a long bath/shower

The music was already playing. Upon further consideration, he had worked so hard to gain these quarters which had the luxury of a half-bath section. He might as well further appreciate the advantage. Yet filling and draining the basin was a bit labour intensive. While being clean was a necessity to him, he rarely took long soaks, and typically opted for the shorter methods in order to cut down on time spent preening and grooming. With no pending research, lectures, or plans, he could afford to do this.  It ended up being a good and relaxing soak; the warmth of the water relieving, lingering muscle tension, the lavender soap's scent heady and soothing, the music filling the emptiness in his mind with joyful entertainment. Afterwards, he dried and dressed, feeling quite rejuvenated as he glanced the list again for the next items:

• if you’re religious or spiritual, spend some extra time on your prayers/meditation • light a candle and watch the flame

Both of these could easily be achieved  in the Order's chapel. While he was not exactly religious, he held knowledge of the sacred and the profane being tangible aspects of their world. They existed, yet he did not believe entirely in the concepts of Heaven and Hell being particular afterlives for Humans. If Earth was the realm of humanity, he considered the other two as realms of their respective inhabitants. Cross visitation between realms was possible, but Humans had too many limitations on their species to be able to persist in the other realms for long. These were, of course, theories that he was both interested, and loathe, to test for himself.

The chapel was of Christian Orthodox decoration, every finery imaginable on display. Likenesses of Saints and  other holy figures adorning the windows, walls, carved into pews, and as intricate statues placed in key areas of visibility. Albus wandered down the center aisle of the chapel's nave and headed for one of the ornate prayer candle holders on either side of the crossing dais. Lighting a candle, he knelt on the ground and stared at the flickering flame, giving silent thanks for the opportunities he had been afforded thus far in his lifetime.

Flame snuffed, he ventured outside and read the next objectives to attempt:

• go outside barefoot and stand in the grass until you feel just a little bit cold, then wrap yourself in a blanket to warm up • buy flowers for yourself (optional: press them between heavy books so you can keep them forever)

Some minutes later he attempted the first of the two in a secluded meadow just outside the Order grounds. It felt a bit embarrassing at first, but the self-consciousness soon faded and soothed into a feeling more akin to the child-like way he had felt when laying on the carpet listening to music. His eyes scanned around for flowers to fulfil the second of the list items, those he would press and turn into a bookmark either for himself or as a gift to a friend.

Returning home again, he pulled on a warm sweater to chase away the chill that the cool ground had given him, and looked at the last item on the list:

• write yourself a love letter and seal it with wax

A smile formed and he sat at his desk, feeling much better having gone through the motions of the list. Pulling out the appropriate stationary, he set about writing a short note to himself before folding it and sealing it shut for another time.

"I am enough, I deserve time to rest, and I am thankful for those around me."

[tremble-in-the-hips]

All right, you asked for it. A fucking Picture of Dorian Gray fanfiction I wrote in high school. Pine away, gays.

Dorian’s leg bobbed furiously. The cigarette between his fingers smoldered to an ashen stub. On his velvet purple couch, he stretched out, perplexed by the painting strung above the fireplace. He shuddered as his own oil-glazed eyes peered at him. 

They weren’t really his eyes, he thought. The eyes belonged to Basil, whose skilled hands opened the window into Dorian’s soul, now sitting on the mantle. Dorian felt Basil’s presence in the canvas. His hands, cramping around a paint brush; his one eye open as he perfected his vision; his dark hair falling in clumps in front of his eyes. The concentration and adoration Basil put into creating the image was powerful. As he stubbed out his cigarette with a flick, Dorian felt the artist’s careful scrutiny staring back at him as he sat. He rubbed the back of his neck with a chuckle as he thought of being in Basil’s studio just that afternoon. 

“Don’t listen to Harry,” Basil had warned. They were standing, a breath apart in the waning sunlight. Anxiously, Basil dug beneath his fingernails with a pencil to dislodge layers of crusting paint. 

Dorian had scoffed as he straightened his cuffs. “Basil, I’m beginning to see a pattern,” he chuckled. “For someone you trust, you condemn Harry rather harshly, don’t you think?”

Basil smiled politely. Dorian’s smile unraveled. “What,” he cried, “have I said something amiss?”

Basil met Dorian’s eye and laughed as he clasped his rough hands around one of Dorian’s. “No, never, my dearest,” Basil cooed, “I only wondered when I claimed to trust Harry.”

Dorian bent towards Basil. Concerned, he whispered, “You doubt his loyalty to you? Your friendship?”

Basil shook his head with a grin and laid a firm hand on Dorain’s shoulder. Head bowed, he turned back towards the painting on the opposite wall. “That, I don’t doubt,” Basil proclaimed, “ours is a friendship more like a commitment than marriage. We’ve seen too much together, know too much about each other. He will take my secrets to the grave with his cynicism and darkness which he so loves to spread,” he muttered. He rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. 

Dorian eyed Basil playfully. “So, your lack of trust stems purely from experience? One too many nights of debauchery spent face down in a ditch due to one nefarious Henry Wotton?” Dorian stepped forward and took up all of Basil’s view. “Too many secrets falling out of his pockets?”

Basil chuckled and pushed Dorian away. Dorian giggled and shoved him back. The two poked and pulled on one another until Basil brought his hands over Dorian’s cheeks and held him back, both of them laughing raucously. (Seated on his couch, Dorian grinned at the thought.) Basil sighed and the air was calm. “Maybe,” he replied simply. 

Dorian clasped Basil’s shoulders and shook him once. “My God, Harry dares to decry marriage when he is married to you!”

Basil leaned heavily on Dorian’s shoulder, guffawing as his knees gave out. Wiping joyful tears from his eyes, Basil sighed, “Oh, but only Harry would believe a friendship akin to marriage worth cherishing and the only truly good purpose for marriage besides politics.” Basil stood up straight, eyeing Dorian from beneath his curtain of hair. “More than anything, the man is quick to decry romance.”

“Ironic, for a man with cynically romantic notions,” Dorian cried with a laugh. He looked adoringly at Basil. “What would he think of a friendship akin to romance?”

Basil bit his lip, eyes wandering absently to his left. He scoffed, “More than likely shaking his grim head at us.”

Dorian huffed, emerging from his revere startled and breathless. Friendship akin to romance, he thought, what a delightful delusion. He could hear Henry Wotton’s voice repeat such a sentiment in his head. He shuddered. He sometimes did find Harry outrageously grim, even when he followed Harry with a childlike curiosity and adoration. As embarrassed as he was, he found himself smitten with the lord; Wotton was handsome and charming and enticingly treacherous. Whatever Wotton said felt like honey, despite later burning like vinegar. 

Basil’s warning had shaken him. Dorian paused, considering how the night was to proceed. His party, which was to include Basil and Dorian, were to head to the theater after the club and witness one of Sybil’s first performances after their proposal. He was torn, intrigued and terrified by Harry’s promise of disappointment from Sybil’s love. Part of him wanted to continue heedless, so infatuated was he with Sybil; yet he felt hesitant, and chanced leaving Sybil if he got scared. 

It felt real, his love for Sybil. More real than even Harry’s cynicism could penetrate. 

Could there be a potential for failure in a feeling so strong? If only he could explain it to Harry! He paced the living room, drawing up articulate analogies. His satisfaction with Sybil was as permanent as the spring bloom, as lingering as a smoke cloud from a pipe, as tender as Basil’s affectionate brush stroke. 

Dorian skidded to a halt in the doorway, hand clutching his chest. Why do I still think of Basil? he thought. He flopped into a lounge chair, groaning. One of his servants came to him, mumbling about the arrival of Harry and Basil (did his heartbeat quicken?) to take him to the club, then the theater. His heart thumped as he plucked a flower from a vase on the counter and twisted the stem clean off. He pocketed the newly fashioned corsage. A beautiful tiger lily, muted orange with maroon spots. 

. . . 

His corsage lay crumbled in his hand. His entire body felt heavy, as if sinking into the earth. The theater box, already half empty since the second act, felt cold and bitter. 

Henry put it best. “Terrible,” he stated factually, “just terrible. Ah well - flames burn out. Such is life, such is theater.”

“This isn’t right,” Dorian gasped, barely looking up from the flower in his hand. He studied the creases in the petals. He attempted to smooth them out with his thumb, growing annoyed when the petals curled around his fingers. He huffed, “she must be ill, or upset, or possibly inebriated, or-”

“Oh dear, sweet Dorian,” Henry sighed, laying a hand on Dorian’s shoulder. Dorian barely looked up. “We both know those possibilities aren’t true,” Henry crooned. With a sniff, he looked toward the stage exit. “You’ve got to hand it to her thought,” he sighed, “she loves you. It’s clear in her face, the way she looked out into the audience, the way she breathed. That’s love. But it’s normal love, average - and acted love will always be more potent. Or at least it will present better on stage -”

“Where’s Basil?” Dorian cut in, shrugging off Henry’s hand with an irked groan. 

“Home by now,” Henry relayed in a monotone, “he left partway through the curtain call, had to attend to a friend or a casserole or his own melancholy or something.” Dorian heard the click of a pocket watch opening. “Well,” cried Harry conspicuously, “your Juliet has more than likely returned to her dressing room now. I suggest you have a chat with her.”

Dorian grit his teeth, prickling against his clothes and skin. His annoyance felt like bile rising in his throat and he felt like spitting. Suddenly he was up, throwing the corsage against the floor. Through the unsettled curls of his hair, Dorian saw Henry step back with wide eyes and a smile.  

“Dorian, love, what’s got you flying like this?” he questioned playfully.

Dorian huffed and crossed his arms. He felt inflamed, like a deceived child. Was this the product of love? A loss of sense, a loss of purpose? Sybil was supposed to be Dorian’s greatest prize, the person for him to be proud of forever. When she flitted across the stage, he wanted nothing more than to claim the moment, claim her, with a fiery passion. She was something to behold (in her prime, Dorian thought bitterly, which seems to have ended) and she was something he wanted to behold constantly. 

Dorian flew, a trail of orange tiger lily petals falling at his boots. He felt confident in his ability to tell her just how he felt and nervous of her reaction. But he was angry! Truly angry! To watch her perform on any other night was to watch the gods of grace and whimsy in flight. What would become of the world, his world, without her gift, his pride? For her to fail or give up performance would be like if Basil put down his brush. 

Dorian hovered hesitantly in front of Sybil’s dressing room. He could feel his heart clattering against his breastplate. He reached for the doorknob and felt his ill intentions bubbling in his throat. She’s a charlatan, Dorian thought wickedly, and I am a willing sucker to her ruse. She embarrassed me in front of my friends! She doesn’t deserve my advances, my praise. What a failure! I’ll see to it she realizes the shame, the embarrassment. I mean, what would Basil think - 

Dorian’s hand shook violently as he grasped the doorknob. His breath escaped in sharp gasps. His grip loosened. To his left, he peered through a window and a vision formed of his own living room through the darkness. In the projection, he saw Basil smoothing the ruffles in Dorian’s jacket. His face was splattered with paint and a playful smile pulled his lips. 

“You really are a wonder, Dorian,” Basil’s voice echoed. Dorian’s mirror image blushed. “So youthful, yet so open; so beautiful, yet so kind.” The vision of Basil looked away from the vision of Dorian and stared, knowingly, at Dorian in real life. Terror gripped Dorian and shame overcame him as the vision smiled at him, concern in his eyes and a slight, adoring tilt in his head. The vision whispered, “I can always trust you to handle important things with care and thoughtfulness. It’s what I like best about you.”

Dorian let go of the doorknob and stared at it pointedly. His face twisted and released. What was my plan? he thought. What would I have accomplished with such anger?

The door creaked open and Sybil’s heart-shaped face appeared like a moon over the horizon. She beamed. “Oh, love!” she yelped and pushed the door open.

Dorian looked forward and straightened his back. He swept his hair back and gave Sybil a polite smile. “My dearest,” he muttered shyly. 

“I was hoping I had seen you on the balcony,” Sybil squealed with delight. She stepped into the door frame and swept her hand over the room. “Will you join me, good prince?”

Dorian met her eyes and sighed, feeling light and giddy. Despite the embarrassment, his physical feelings for her were strong. Sybil held her hand out for Dorian to take. Before he reached out, he thought of Basil’s unruly dark hair and affectionate smile.

The right thing? Dorian questioned fearfully. He took Sybil’s hand delicately and kissed her fingers. “I would, darling,” Dorian chuckled, “but I must attend to personal matters.”

Sybil recoiled slightly, but soon returned a polite smile. “Oh, that’s fine. Before you go, I was wondering what you thought of my -”

“You were lovely,” Dorian cried, “and I will explain away my hastiness later!” He leaned forward and gave her a sweet kiss on the lips. Once he was out the door, he began sprinting down the street. 

. . . 

Basil’s door flew open and he laughed with surprise and delight before pulling Dorian into his embrace. “I’m more than shocked,” Basil cried, “you came back for me! The night is alive with clubs and youthful spirit and you come to these unlit suburbs.” Basil sighed and leaned against the doorway to his living room with a jaunty grin. “Of course, the night’s youth allowed you to deduce that I had returned home.” Basil raised the wine glass he had been holding in respect. “You know me too well,” he chuckled. 

Dorian giggled, “have you been drinking, Basil?”

Basil bit his lip against a smile and moved the glass behind his back. “Who’s to say,” he deflected, barely containing his laughter.

Dorian clasped Basil’s shoulder with a grin. “It’s no matter anyway. May I?” Dorian inquired, pointing lazily at Basil’s glass.

Basil shrugged and handed his glass to Dorian. “Why not? Here, have a head start.”

Dorian blushed, touched by the gesture. He took Basil’s glass, raised it to him, and took a sip. It felt like stinging, sweet ginger as it ran down his throat. 

Basil poured another glass in the corner of the room. He eyed Dorian kindly. “I’m terribly ashamed of my behavior tonight,” he admitted, “I’m sorry for leaving the theater without so much as a goodbye. Sybil’s performance was important to you.”

“Whatever you are sorry for, you are forgiven, believe me,” Dorian assured, “I was only worried for your well being.”

Basil looked away, smiling to himself. “Thank you,” he whispered, “though, you could have called. You didn’t. You ran here. I’m curious as to what compelled you to do so.”

Dorian laughed. “I’m curious as to why you fled when you claimed you were eager to join us!”

Basil shrugged with an innocent smile, his lips touching his cup. Chuckling, he said, “I’m still not sure. I thought myself a bore on such a joyous night. Shakespeare often depresses me.”

Dorian nodded attentively, sipping at his drink. “I believe that is his point actually,” he wondered. “The dramas are meant to strike a chord with our humanity, to tell a story of unrequited or unfulfilled romance.”

Basil scoffed, staring into his swirling glass. He met Dorian’s eyes tenderly, sighing, “My dear, often it is the romance that depresses me.”

Dorian turned his head, brow furrowed, and Basil laughed, “it is nonsensical to anyone but me. I find myself incompatible with romance. I don’t hold onto relationships. I am quick to turn inward, quick to anger, and unable to respond to a lover’s cry for attention.” Basil huffed with eyes downcast. “Lovely, lovely Dorian, I am impossible to love.”

The room stood quiet. After a moment of discomfort in silence, Dorian sat on Basil’s dark green couch and beckoned to Basil. Basil shuffled over with tepid steps and flopped into the seat next to Dorian. Dorian turned his shoulders towards Basil and took his hands. He turned them over, lightly drawing on Basil’s palms with his thumbs. He whispered to Basil, “I left the theater tonight after the show because I was inspired by the idea of what you’d think of my actions.”

Basil leaned back against the arm of the sofa, surprise alight in his eyes. His lips drew taut as he tried to suppress a smile. “Go on,” he whispered.

Dorian cleared his throat. His palms were sweating and he cupped them lightly around Basil’s, trying not to dampen them. “I was inflamed,” he continued, “both by Henry’s words and the events at the theater. I felt mean like a snake, wanting to lash out.” Dorian chuckled darkly. “I thought myself deserving better. I thought of telling Sybil so, harshly if need be.”

Basil stared at Dorian with concern. He looked down, grasping at empty words. “I’m . . . sorry to hear you were in such a state, possessed by evil like that.” He clasped Dorian’s hands gently. “I am, however, proud and delighted that you thought of me and made a better choice.”

Dorian averted his gaze, beaming. “It seems I think of little but you lately, Basil.”

Basil blushed deep red and his face lit up with a delirious smile. Dorian hopped closer, encouraged by Basil’s response. He took a shaking breath, continuing, “Basil, whatever compels you to believe you are impossible to love, it is a false pretense; you create beauty out of nothing; you adore your friends with great and genuine enthusiasm; you corale me towards the right path,” Dorian declared. Running a hand through his flyaway hairs, he leant towards Basil with a serious look. “Despite my influences, you get me to see what is right and good with only the thought of your care, your kindness, and your love for me.”

Dorian let out a final breath. Basil’s eyes were locked with his, shining with earnest and insane happiness. His head rested relaxed to his left and he rubbed Dorian’s hands between his fingers. Dorian’s heart quickened and he looked away, clearing his throat again. Timid, he looked into Basil’s eyes. He whispered, “Who are you to say you are immune to romance? What about us? Fools in a friendship akin to romance?”

Breathless, Basil reached out, cupping Dorian’s face gingerly in his hands. Dorian lightly traced his fingers over the back of Basil’s hands. Basil shook his head in disbelief. He rubbed his thumb along Dorian’s cheekbone. “I,” he stuttered, “I, you, you’ve surprised, I’m . . .”

Dorian slid his hands down the length of Basil’s arms and dug his fingers into Basil’s shoulders. “Whatever you’re planning to do or say,” he breathed, “do it now. I despise suspense.”

Basil burst into laughter and Dorian joined. When both had caught their breath, Basil pulled Dorian towards him for a kiss. Dorian closed his eyes, sinking with relief as he wrapped his arms around Basil’s neck. Basil ran his fingers through Dorian’s hair and let his lips drag over Dorian’s sluggishly, intoxicated by the intimacy. Dorian pressed his forehead to Basil’s and Basil pulled back, gasping for breath. With a grin, Dorian nuzzled Basil’s nose, causing the two to giggle with childish giddiness. 

“Do you believe you’re wrong now?” Dorian cooed. “About being incompatible with romance?”

“Possibly,” Basil retorted, playing with one of Dorian’s curls. 

“I think you’ll do fine,” Dorian sighed, catching Basil’s eye and grinning. He reached into his shirt and pulled out a stem of lavender. Basil’s brows drew together in a question and Dorian explained, “I pulled it out of the vase at the theater..” Basil rolled his eyes and Dorian flicked his nose. “Enough,” he laughed, “I’m trying to perform an incredibly romantic gesture.”

Basil laughed heartily. “Okay,” he cried, “you’ve gotten me to believe in love again. Happy?”

Dorian beamed, “Always, with you.”

[thorne93]

Unforeseen Chasm (Part 64)

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together.

Word Count:2655

Warnings: Language, dark moment for reader, 5 yrs after the snap, grief, anger, killing spree, new love, endgame plot, enter Uncle  Wade Wilson,hope, worry, Song for this part: Cruel Summer- Taylor swift Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my novels). It’s a collaboration with the amazing @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​. It started as a funny “What if…?” and it evolved and got huge. This took two years to write. We are both proud and happy and we hope you enjoy it. It follows from Thor 1 to Endgame in the MCU. Some of the timelines may be off in order to fit certain people, and some characters may show up earlier or in different ways than they have in the movie. But for the most part, it follows the MCU. It also has a bit of crossover with some other Marvel characters throughout the story.

Masterlist for Unforeseen Chasm

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Don’t kill me, I have family,” the man begged. 

“So did I.” 

You charged the knife and flung it at his head, stabbing him between the eyes instantly killing him. 

That was the last of one of the cartels in Brazil. He was a ruthless, horrible man that you’d been tracking for two months. Him and about ten others who worked for him. But you’d just single handedly killed all ten of them in their warehouse. 

About eight months ago, you ran into Clint Barton. Apparently, when the snap happened, he lost his entire family and went off the deep end like you did. He was filled with bitter rage. Wondering why monsters like this survived and his family was gone. You were both tracking the same people and when you found each other, you agreed to stay together. It made sense and both of you felt like it was nice to see a familiar face with a similar past and same vendetta.

Remy followed you everywhere. He stayed in horrible hotels and motels, just to follow you around. Sometimes he followed you on your missions, lingering in the shadows making sure you didn’t get hurt or need backup. You and Clint sometimes fought together, so he wasn’t too worried, but other times you two worked separate jobs or different jobs in the same area, and that’s when Remy would watch out for you.

You came back to the room you’d rented. Since the job was done, you’d pack, sleep, and move onto the next target you’d talked about with Clint. Remy stayed out of the way of you two, never saying or offering any judgment or criticism. He understood the path you two were on. He didn’t like it, and he didn’t think it was bringing you much joy, but this was what you wanted, and to be honest, the world was better without the people you were killing. 

By now it had been five years since the snap. Your first year was filled with global travel then settling down in New Orleans. The second year you tried to find domestic bliss with Remy, the two of you having steady jobs. Then the last 3 years were filled with hate, rage, murder, vendettas. 

What you did… what you were doing… it didn't bring you joy, but it made you feel better for a split second that horrible people weren't ruining good people's lives. 

Remy had been great since the day he showed up in Paris. He had been understanding of Loki and never pressured you to move on. Remy understood where he stood in your heart and he accepted it because this was all he had wanted for many years. He wished he didn't have to watch you suffer and grieve to get to this point, he somehow wished things were different in that he was your first choice and not Loki. But ultimately, he respected your heart's desires. 

Truthfully, you did love Remy. You had told Shannon what seemed like centuries ago that perhaps in another life where you didn't know Loki existed or had never met him, Remy would be your one and only. Now that Loki was gone though, it felt so wrong. It felt wrong to be happy, to even think of moving on, to even entertain the idea of loving another. 

Half of you couldn’t imagine moving on without Loki - he was your life, your life, your world. He’s the one you wanted to share your life with. The other half felt guilty to experience any happiness, because it was your fault the world was the way it was. Why should you get a happy ending when it was your fault everyone was in this living Hell?  

But your heart doesn’t listen to logic or reason. You didn’t mean to fall in love... 

This had been on your mind for quite some time. Perhaps right after he almost proposed was when you started to really take notice of him. But it wasn't until maybe three months ago, almost five years after the snap, that you felt like you could maybe allow yourself to love him back. 

You weren't ready to give up on Loki, or even consider moving on, but perhaps there was room enough for more than one love in your heart. 

Remy had been nothing but kind, sweet, understanding, and supportive. He let you grieve and deal with things the way you needed to. If you ever asked for space, or pulled away from a kiss, he didn't get upset or disappointed. He'd just assure you it was alright. He was with you, day in and day out, practically since the snap happened. Without him, you weren’t sure you would’ve survived this long.

After all that, and everything you went through as children together, how could you not love him? 

Simple: you did.

“How’d it go?” Remy asked once you got inside the hotel room. He was reading a magazine at a bar in the little kitchenette the place offered. 

“Job’s finished,” you answered simply. 

“So it’s Japan next?” 

“Yep.” 

You started to grab some quick food to make yourself some dinner. “I’m sorry to do this to you. To drag you all over the world for some… vendetta.” 

“It’s alright. I know why you have to do it,” he assured. 

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you smiled, pulling the food from the cabinet. Something in you told you he needed to know how you felt. That it was the right time, if there ever was a right time. 

It was time to face the harsh reality that Loki wasn’t coming back. None of them were. You couldn’t live every day in his memory, drowning in grief and depression. It was time to move forward, as hard as it was, you knew it was the right decision. And doing it with Remy wouldn’t be so bad, right? He was a wonderful man with a big heart.

"For whatever it's worth, I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?” you asked through tears as you turned around to face him, a bit of a laugh coming out of you. 

He looked up grinning like the devil. “I think that’s the best news I ever heard,” he countered, getting up to round the bar before he took you in a hug. “I know that was hard for you to say, cher, but I love you all the more for it,” he assured softly as he brushed his knuckles across your face.

You gently smiled before giving him a quick kiss. 

It looked like this was the start to the beginning of a new chapter for you.

---------------------------------

You were in Japan now, taking care of one of the mafia that had been in power for decades here. You just decimated one of their safehouses, leaving a pile of bodies behind you. Clint was digging up more information at the moment and he would take the next hit on the mob. 

Just as you grabbed Remy to go find some dinner, you two were walking down the street, it was wet from a recent rainstorm when you suddenly heard someone say your name from behind you as they grabbed your hand. 

“Y/N Y/L/N?” Wade said. “Of course your Y/N who am I kidding”. He went to pull your hand.

The sudden action made you move reflexively. 

As you spun, you charged his hand and as he pulled away to gasp in pain, you mustered up your dark electrical purple energy in your left fist and slammed it into his chest, the heel of your palm colliding with his sternum. It sent him flying backwards into a cart on the sidewalk. You straightened up before glancing back to Remy, confusion on your face.

“You’re not exactly friendly, are you?” the man asked as you stared at him. He was getting up, wiping the debris off himself. He was clad in a red and black suit from head to toe. “Should have known better than to try that.” His tone had a sort of whimsy to it , almost as if he was telling a joke. 

“Who the hell are you?” you all but growled, your fist raised and still glowing.

Remy came up behind you though and gently lowered your arm. “Cher, I know this man.”

“You know him?” you accused, as if knowing this idiot was an inexcusable offense.

“Unfortunately, yes. This is Wade Wilson. He’s an X-Man,” Remy explained.

“Correction I am not an X-men,” he offers his hand. “Deadpool’s the name killing’s my game.” He pretended to curtsey.

Your eyes shot back to the man now known as Wade and you narrowed your gaze. “Why are you here? What do you want with me?”

“First of all, let me just say wow about that little trick of yours. Also to be fair, you overreacted,” he quipped.

“Overreacted? Some stranger just grabbed my hand. You're lucky I didn’t kill you. Now what the hell are you doing here?” 

“Listen here, buttercup, I’m here on a favor of Shannon Stark. Remember her?” 

Your mouth fell open slightly. “You know Shannon?” 

“Yeah, we go way back!” He waved his hand. “I babysit her kid time from time but the point is, she wanted me to find you, to bring you home. She’s worried about you or something. I wasn’t really listening. I just owe her a favor so I got the gist of the mission and then said, ‘You owe me one hundred chimichangas and not the cheap stuff because I know Stark can afford the nice ones so don’t even think about skimping on --” 

“Do you ever stop talking?” you interjected, glaring at him. “Wait, did you say Shannon’s kid?” This hit you like a wrecking ball. 

Shannon had a child? There was… she… a child? You couldn’t wrap your head around it. 

“No, he doesn’t,” Remy responded as he stared him down. “Wade, go on home now. Y/N and I don’t wanna go back. We’re happy and we are on our own.”

“Yeah see that wasn’t really part of the contract. I’m supposed to bring you back and --”

“Sorry to disappoint, but you can’t bring me back, I’m not going.” 

“You’re gonna break Shannon’s heart,” he said with fake sadness. 

“I already did, but nice try.” You turned and started to walk away.

“Well too bad because I don’t take no for an answer so gear up, we’re heading back now.” He went to pick you up. “And don’t try doing that little trick of yours again. Shannon said to bring you back but she didn't say in what condition.” Deadpool smirked. 

“I already told you, asshat, I’m not going anywhere with you,” you replied and jumped back flaring up your purple energy. “You can just tell her you haven't found me.”

“Well it looks like that won’t be necessary. See the thing is she already knows you’re here.” Wade sing-songs. “When you weren't looking, I sent coordinates and they had been on standby.” 

“You what?!” you all but shouted, terror snaking in your voice. “Remy, we have to go.” You started to turn and grab his sleeve. 

Unbeknownst to you, Shannon had already gotten there and was waiting for the moment to appear. 

“Are you really going to be a sack of unicorn shit and just break her heart like that?” Wade asked, cocking his head. “So much for being a good sister.” 

Feeling guilty you turned to him. “She’s survived without me for this long I’m sure she’s more than fine.” You shook her head. “And what's a little heartbreak when she’s fine?” 

Just then Shannon walked out of the alley she and Natasha had been waiting in. Both women went their separate ways. Shannon to you and Nat to Clint. 

“So you’re really okay with breaking my heart after everything we’ve been through?” Shannon called out loud enough for you to hear. “What happened to being family?”

The sound of her voice cut you like a knife. 

“You’ve got your own family now, it sounds like. I thought you’d be better off without me, and it appears I was right.” You let your hands span out beside you before falling, a sad smile on your face. 

“Y/N, you’ve been gone for 5 years! You have no idea what's happened in that time.” She shook her head. “We may have found a way to reverse what Thanos did, but we need you—I need you.” She stretched her hand out to you.

“Sorry to ruin the moment but I’ve done my part,” Wade interrupted the moment. “Now when do I get my chimichangas?” 

You eyed Wade for a moment, irritated with him after only five minutes. Then your gaze shot to Shannon’s hand. 

“Really, Wade? Couldn’t this wait till after we got back?” Shannon asked, looking a little annoyed. “Plus they’re at the cabin, hidden because you got Morgan addicted to those!” she retorted.

Sheepish, he ducked his head. “It’s not my fault the kid hasn't tried all the good stuff.” Shrugging, he added, “It’s not like they’ll harm her anyways.” 

“Just get back to the quinjet.” Shannon turned her head facing you again as Wade retreated. “Sorry about that, he can be a lot to handle sometimes.”

“Clearly. Much like, was it, Morgan? A child? You have a child?” There was venom and betrayal in your voice. Although, to be fair, she had no way to reach out to you to give you any news. That was on you. 

“We can talk all about it, if you come back with me.” 

“Why do you need me?” you questioned. 

“It’s an all hands on deck sort of situation. You’re just about the only one who stands a chance against him.”

“But last time--”

“Last time was different. We know what we’re up against now. There may be a way to reverse it. To get everyone back.”

Tears pricked at your eyes. You hadn’t cried over Loki in some time. He was on your mind, every day, always, but the grief laden sobs had slowly died down over the last five years. 

“Don’t promise something you can’t deliver,” you warned, your fist balled up. You could tell Remy was getting worried at your side. “I can’t go through this again.”

She stepped even closer to you, taking your hand. “You won’t. We will win this time. I promise. You need to come home, Y/N. It’s time.” 

You looked back to Remy who gave you a look that told you this was your choice, your call. You knew he’d follow you anywhere, no matter what you chose. 

You heaved a sigh and turned back to Shannon, giving a firm nod to let her know you were in. This is what you’d been waiting for. Now it was finally here, and even if it meant possibly losing everything again, going through the same pain again, it was worth it to try and get everyone back. To get him back.

Once everyone was back on the quinnjet. Things got a bit quieter. You had fallen asleep, leaning on Remy. Shannon walked over to the two of you and covered you in a blanket. 

“Here, she’ll get cold soon, she always does when she’s on here.” She smiled sadly seeing just how tired and bruised you looked. “I’ll let Tony know you’ll be staying with us. Did you want to share the room with Y/N or your own?” she asked, unsure of the situation.

“We can share a room, that'll be fine. Thank you, Shannon. It’s good to see you again.”

“Okay. Is there anything you guys might need right away? It’s good to see you too.”

Remy shook his head. “Nah, we should be good. Thank you though.”

“Alright then but if anything comes to mind let me know okay?”

“Will do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List: @essie1876​ @magpiegirl80​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​ @iamwarrenspeace​ @marvel-imagines-yes-please​ @superwholocked527 @missinstantgratification​ @thejemersoninferno​ @rda1989​ @munlis​ @thefridgeismybestie​​ @bubblyanarocks3​​ @igiveupicantthinkofausername​​ @kaliforniacoastalteens​ @feelmyroarrrr​​ @kaelingoat-blog​ @friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo​​ @damalseer​​ @heyitscam99​​ @yknott81​​ @sorryimacrapwriter​​ @glitterquadricorn​​ @xxqueenofisolationxx @little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama @bittersweetunicorm​​ @alyssaj23​​ @sea040561​​ @princess76179​​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​​ @sarahp879​​ @malfoysqueen14​​ @ellallheart​​ @breezy1415​​ @marvelmayo​​ @random-fluffy-pink-unicorn @cocosierra94 @hardcollectionworldtrash @capsmuscles​ @marvelloushamilton @paintballkid711​

Loki: @lostinspace33​​ @ultrarebelheart​​ @lenawiinchester​​ @esoltis280​​ @tngrayson​​ @wangdeasang​​ @harrymewmew @jayfantasyatyourservice​​

UC: @lokis-high-priestess​

[nightbloomsresorthotel]

A Controversial, but Fair Essay on Gabbie Hanna’s Poetry That Doesn’t Completely Shit on Her Writing

So I just finished listening to her youtube video where she addresses this topic. When I first saw her poems, I could see what everyone was talking about: her poems are simple, full of puns that seem to masquerade as a function of “depth”, with simple, easy to understand language juxtaposed with themes of growing up and trauma. She says that her influences include Shel Silverstein, Bo Burnham and William Williams, including his famous poem This is Just to Say.

(prepare thyself reader, this is a quick 2k analysis. I’ve included GOOD poetry recs at the end!)

She goes on to say that what drew her to these poems was there charm- Shel Silverstein’s works were meant for children, and they are easy to interpret- and could be read from the perspective of both an adult and child. As a child reading Where the Sidewalk Ends, I enjoyed the illustrations and the rhyming nature of these poems. I’m sure Gabbie Hanna did as well. Hearing her talk about these inspirations and what she wanted to do with her own poems, it’s clear that she was aiming for each piece to harken back to the whimsy and innocence of childhood, while addressing more adult topics.

I think that Gabbie Hanna missed the mark. She admits that some of the poems in her book were rushed and this makes me question if and where she ever got any peer feedback from her pieces. I also wonder if Gabbie has ever taken any writing classes or poetry workshops, but I am doubtful. The big difference between This is Just to Say and, lets say, her poem Chivalry is clear. Here is This is Just to Say:

I have eaten

the plums

that were in

the icebox

and which

you were probably

saving

for breakfast

Forgive me

they were delicious

so sweet

and so cold.

So much has already been said about this poem. But the biggest thing to take away here, is that Williams clearly put thought into syntax, imagery, rhythm and rhyme. You will notice that this piece doesn’t exactly rhyme, but it slant rhymes. Rhyming has become less of a marker for poetry recently, mostly because I think it makes people think of nursery rhymes or songs and traditional, older forms of poetry, and some poets don’t want that connotation. This may surprise some, but poetry is an ever evolving art form; poets are always playing with experimentation in their work. Here, imagery and the five senses make This is Just to Say great. Up until the last stanza, we don’t really get anything that makes us feel a physical sensation until we get to “so sweet/ and so cold”. This is where the impact of the poem lies. This is the climax of this poem. Every word before it is intentionally abstract, while sweet and cold are in comparison, concrete images and sensual images. This is why we can almost taste the plums the author is talking about at the end of the poem.

Let’s look at a poem I picked at random from Gabbie Hanna’s book, CHIVALRY:

I’m not some no-brained bimbo

and i’m not some helpless girl

i am fucking remarkable

and i deserve the world.

i don’t need you to open my door,

but the gesture would be nice.

i don’t need you to buy my meal;

the offer would suffice.

i don’t need to be taken care of,

but it’d be cool to know you care.

i’m a holographic charizard

highly desired and rare.

yo, i even drop pokemon references

‘cause i’m fuckin dope as shit.

i’m good with just me, i don’t need you

not even a tiny bit.

Let me address what I like about this poem first. Gabbie knows what she wants to do- she utilizes rhyming and repetition to make this an easy flowing read. She knows that a lower-case “i” shows that despite what she may be claiming in the poem “i don’t need you/ not even a tiny bit”, the narrator does not think highly of themselves— perhaps the narrator desperately needs the “you” addressed, but is not confidant enough to ask for their friendship/ relationship. The narrator is contradicting themselves, showing a low self-esteem, and maybe crying for help. This juxtaposed with the fun rhyming tone of the piece and the mention of pokémon succesfully gets this point across.

However, this poem seems to focus on utilizing these elements of craft only. Gabbie could enhance the reader experience by adding more concrete imagery: why type of meal? How helpless of a girl? These are instances where Gabbie could help the reader connect to the speaker, and she doesn’t do so. We could also argue that she’s emulating This is Just to Say by only including one concrete and colorful image, but I will address this further down.

Additionally, this narrator could be anyone. I could imagine anybody saying this, of any gender. Perhaps Gabbie did this intentionally- the more vague a narrator is, the more it could apply to anyone— the average teen/adult could connect to this poem. However, this gives the poem a generic quality. Perhaps others would like to connect to this narrator more, and get a better sense of who the narrator is. Also let me address why I keep using “narrator” instead of “Gabbie”. It’s a force of habit for me (that I got from poetry courses in college) to assume that the narrator of the poem and the author of the poem may not always be the same person. I think in this situation, these poems are undoubtedly from Gabbi’s perspective, but to remain neutral just in case, I will continue to use “narrator”. 

Something I’d also like to address is the matter of rhyming in the current poetry world. Many journals have gone so far as to say “we do not accept rhyming poems” in their submission guidelines. Not all, but some. People who just start out writing poetry believe that poems must rhyme to be considered poetry at all, but when you take your first poetry class in high school or college, you quickly realize that this is not the case. Here, Gabbie uses a simple end rhyme scheme to evoke poetry like Silverstein and childhood memories of reading poetry, nursery rhymes, etc. But I think to those who have been reading poetry for a long time, teaching it, or reading submissions for their journal, the mark of a novice poet is that everything rhymes, sometimes at the sake of using a better word in its place that doesn’t rhyme. I think rhyme has its place in poetry, but it can be overused. Since most of Gabbie Hanna’s poems do rhyme, it’s easy to see someone getting “rhyme fatigue” while reading. Another negative effect of rhyming is that the reader will begin to anticipate the rhyme- this can cause the reader to skip lines entirely, and focus solely on the rhyme scheme, rather than focusing on the meaning of the poem. A piece that harkens back to childhood and uses rhyme well, in my opinion, is This Be the Verse by Phillip Larkin:

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.  

   They may not mean to, but they do.  

They fill you with the faults they had

   And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn

   By fools in old-style hats and coats,  

Who half the time were soppy-stern

   And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.

   It deepens like a coastal shelf.

Get out as early as you can,

   And don’t have any kids yourself.

I think the big difference between this and Gabbie Hanna’s poem is that it starts off strong right away with “They fuck you up, your mum and dad”. The condescending tone is always there right from the start, and the rhyming is more of a surprise than an expectation throughout- the line “it deepens like a coastal shelf” brings new imagery and meaning to the poem by veering off into another subject. This enhances the surprise.

I’d also like to address cliche’s. The cliche’s present in CHIVALRY are “I deserve the world” and “I don’t need you to open my door”. These are easy to understand from a readers point of view, but often, cliche’s offer nothing new and exciting to the reader. They are easy to skip over and ignore. These add to the poems generic atmosphere.

Let’s talk about the pieces title itself: CHIVALRY. When we read this poem with the title in context, we get a strange disconnect. The poem is clearly about a girl who says she doesn’t need chivalrous acts from a  friend or partner, and doesn’t need someone because they are “good with just me”. But the subtext of the piece is less about chivalry and more about self-esteem or a willingness to be loved. The piece has changed meaning two thirds of the way down. I think the title is too obvious and misleading, and gives the reader the wrong idea about what the poem is trying to say. In essence, the piece is named after a facet of the relationship between the narrator and other person, rather than the root of what the poem is trying to convey.

The pokémon references add color to this piece, and it is the only place this piece has any kind of concrete imagery. In the This is Just to Say the sweet and cold plum imagery is the very last line, heightening them. In CHIVALRY, they’re near the middle of the piece. Thus, the longer ending reduces the color  and lasting effect of “holographic charizard”.

Overall, I think Gabbie Hanna could benefit from workshopping her poems and getting peer feedback from other poets, in addition to reading poetry that isn’t thirty plus years old. I don’t know if she already does this, but judging from her poems, I can only assume that she hasn’t. At the very least, she should avoid rushing to get poems out before they are due.

Gabbie Hanna is a novice poet who put her poems out into the world and got a greater amount of backlash than any novice poet usually does in a workshop or classroom setting.  When in the classroom, there is such a thing as Critique Etiquette. Critique for poems are give honestly and gently, never in a harsh or mean way. Fellow poets point out possible interpretations of work, or possible unwanted connotations of sometimes, even a simple word at the end of the line. In addition, poets in the classroom are exposed to modern poets that are creating new and exciting work that is often published in highly esteemed magazines- reading the best of todays poetry. Gabbi Hanna’s work seemingly got published without peer review, and the quality of it was clear to those who read it. That being said, I do think that people who read and love Gabbie Hanna’s work do connect with it— no doubt because these poems are designed to be as generic as possible, so that others may see themselves in the words.This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I believe her work appeals best to newcomers to poetry, people who maybe have only ever read works from Shel Silverstein or Edgar Allen Poe. This can be a blessing and a shame. There are many good poets out there, that aren’t getting published because they don’t have youtube channels or brand collaborations, and they are just plain hard to find. However, Gabbie Hanna has opened the door for many would-be poetry readers, and has sparked a love for the art of poetry in them. Hopefully, this love leads them to become wider read, and to seek out more poetry from a multiple of authors to read.

I decided that I’d also like to include some published poetry from poets that are from a range of different backgrounds. Go forth and read!

POETRY THAT DOESN'T SUCK: Sonya Vatomsky's Salt is for Curing- poems by a non-binary poet that focus on themes of femininity, Russian food, Russian folklore and identity. Review Purchase 

Danez Smith- A black, queer, non-binary and HIV positive writer. A poem I really like of theirs is "Dinosaurs in the Hood" is a great poem that I personally love.

Claudia Rankine's Citizen: An American Lyric. This book contains poems that focus on the Black experience in America. Excerpt from the book here

Khadijah Queen's I'm So Fine: A List of Famous Men and What I Had On. This collection features conversational poems that focus on the narrators encounters with famous men in relation to what the narrator was wearing at the time. A piece that centers around the question "Well, what were you wearing?". Read two poems from the book Here. 

Fatimah Ashgar's IF THEY COME FOR US. Poems by a Pakistani-Kashmiri-American. These poems focus on race and identity. One of my favorites takes the form of a bingo card, titled Microagression Bingo (read here and two other poems from the book). As a poc myself, I was nodding along to every line, thinking "Yup. I've been through that too."

Tommy Pico is an indiginous poet, and Junk is a book length poem of couplets that uses modern, fast, text style language. From the Tin House website: "The third book in Tommy Pico’s Teebs trilogy, Junk is a breakup poem in couplets: ice floe and hot lava, a tribute to Janet Jackson and nacho cheese. In the static that follows the loss of a job or an apartment or a boyfriend, what can you grab onto for orientation?" Read an excerpt Here. 

I can assure you that none of these read like Rupi Kaur, Gabbie Hanna, or Atticus. These are serious poets that have spent years honing their form, submitting to journals-- they did the work. And it shows in the quality of their writing.

While I'm not a fan of Atticus and Rupi Kaur and Gabbie Hanna, I can appreciate that they've appealed to people who may have never read a poem before. Now those people have a  newfound love for poetry, and a hunger for more. Hopefully, those people will seek out other poets and expand their knowledge and repertoire of current poets, maybe lesser known poets that do amazing work.

[mrs-dragneel-stark-solo]

Unforseen Chasm (Part 64)

Part 64 of Unforseen Chasm

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together. Word Count: 2655 Warnings: Language, dark moment for reader, 5 yrs after the snap, grief, anger, killing spree, new love, endgame plot, enter Uncle  Wade Wilson,hope, worry, 

Song for this part: Cruel Summer- Taylor Swift Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my other fic series). first major Collab with my best friend @thorne93​ what was first a simple “what if” moment turned into a two year writing session and I’ve never been more prouder of myself than when i started my first series. goes through most of the MCU plots there are some changes to accommodate for what we wanted and there is a bit of a crossover between the MCU and other characters. I hope you guys enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it.

“Don’t kill me, I have family,” the man begged.

“So did I.”

You charged the knife and flung it at his head, stabbing him between the eyes instantly killing him.

That was the last of one of the cartels in Brazil. He was a ruthless, horrible man that you’d been tracking for two months. Him and about ten others who worked for him. But you’d just single handedly killed all ten of them in their warehouse.

About eight months ago, you ran into Clint Barton. Apparently, when the snap happened, he lost his entire family and went off the deep end like you did. He was filled with bitter rage. Wondering why monsters like this survived and his family was gone. You were both tracking the same people and when you found each other, you agreed to stay together. It made sense and both of you felt like it was nice to see a familiar face with a similar past and same vendetta.

Remy followed you everywhere. He stayed in horrible hotels and motels, just to follow you around. Sometimes he followed you on your missions, lingering in the shadows making sure you didn’t get hurt or need backup. You and Clint sometimes fought together, so he wasn’t too worried, but other times you two worked separate jobs or different jobs in the same area, and that’s when Remy would watch out for you.

You came back to the room you’d rented. Since the job was done, you’d pack, sleep, and move onto the next target you’d talked about with Clint. Remy stayed out of the way of you two, never saying or offering any judgment or criticism. He understood the path you two were on. He didn’t like it, and he didn’t think it was bringing you much joy, but this was what you wanted, and to be honest, the world was better without the people you were killing.

By now it had been five years since the snap. Your first year was filled with global travel then settling down in New Orleans. The second year you tried to find domestic bliss with Remy, the two of you having steady jobs. Then the last 3 years were filled with hate, rage, murder, vendettas.

What you did… what you were doing… it didn't bring you joy, but it made you feel better for a split second that horrible people weren't ruining good people's lives.

Remy had been great since the day he showed up in Paris. He had been understanding of Loki and never pressured you to move on. Remy understood where he stood in your heart and he accepted it because this was all he had wanted for many years. He wished he didn't have to watch you suffer and grieve to get to this point, he somehow wished things were different in that he was your first choice and not Loki. But ultimately, he respected your heart's desires.

Truthfully, you did love Remy. You had told Shannon what seemed like centuries ago that perhaps in another life where you didn't know Loki existed or had never met him, Remy would be your one and only. Now that Loki was gone though, it felt so wrong. It felt wrong to be happy, to even think of moving on, to even entertain the idea of loving another.

Half of you couldn’t imagine moving on without Loki - he was your life, your life, your world. He’s the one you wanted to share your life with. The other half felt guilty to experience any happiness, because it was your fault the world was the way it was. Why should you get a happy ending when it was your fault everyone was in this living Hell?  

But your heart doesn’t listen to logic or reason. You didn’t mean to fall in love...

This had been on your mind for quite some time. Perhaps right after he almost proposed was when you started to really take notice of him. But it wasn't until maybe three months ago, almost five years after the snap, that you felt like you could maybe allow yourself to love him back.

You weren't ready to give up on Loki, or even consider moving on, but perhaps there was room enough for more than one love in your heart.

Remy had been nothing but kind, sweet, understanding, and supportive. He let you grieve and deal with things the way you needed to. If you ever asked for space, or pulled away from a kiss, he didn't get upset or disappointed. He'd just assure you it was alright. He was with you, day in and day out, practically since the snap happened. Without him, you weren’t sure you would’ve survived this long.

After all that, and everything you went through as children together, how could you not love him?

Simple: you did.

“How’d it go?” Remy asked once you got inside the hotel room. He was reading a magazine at a bar in the little kitchenette the place offered.

“Job’s finished,” you answered simply.

“So it’s Japan next?”

“Yep.”

You started to grab some quick food to make yourself some dinner. “I’m sorry to do this to you. To drag you all over the world for some… vendetta.”

“It’s alright. I know why you have to do it,” he assured.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you smiled, pulling the food from the cabinet. Something in you told you he needed to know how you felt. That it was the right time, if there ever was a right time.

It was time to face the harsh reality that Loki wasn’t coming back. None of them were. You couldn’t live every day in his memory, drowning in grief and depression. It was time to move forward, as hard as it was, you knew it was the right decision. And doing it with Remy wouldn’t be so bad, right? He was a wonderful man with a big heart.

"For whatever it's worth, I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?” you asked through tears as you turned around to face him, a bit of a laugh coming out of you.

He looked up grinning like the devil. “I think that’s the best news I ever heard,” he countered, getting up to round the bar before he took you in a hug. “I know that was hard for you to say, cher, but I love you all the more for it,” he assured softly as he brushed his knuckles across your face.

You gently smiled before giving him a quick kiss.

It looked like this was the start to the beginning of a new chapter for you.

---------------------------------

You were in Japan now, taking care of one of the mafia that had been in power for decades here. You just decimated one of their safehouses, leaving a pile of bodies behind you. Clint was digging up more information at the moment and he would take the next hit on the mob.

Just as you grabbed Remy to go find some dinner, you two were walking down the street, it was wet from a recent rainstorm when you suddenly heard someone say your name from behind you as they grabbed your hand.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” Wade said. “Of course your Y/N who am I kidding”. He went to pull your hand.

The sudden action made you move reflexively.

As you spun, you charged his hand and as he pulled away to gasp in pain, you mustered up your dark electrical purple energy in your left fist and slammed it into his chest, the heel of your palm colliding with his sternum. It sent him flying backwards into a cart on the sidewalk. You straightened up before glancing back to Remy, confusion on your face.

“You’re not exactly friendly, are you?” the man asked as you stared at him. He was getting up, wiping the debris off himself. He was clad in a red and black suit from head to toe. “Should have known better than to try that.” His tone had a sort of whimsy to it , almost as if he was telling a joke.

“Who the hell are you?” you all but growled, your fist raised and still glowing.

Remy came up behind you though and gently lowered your arm. “Cher, I know this man.”

“You know him?” you accused, as if knowing this idiot was an inexcusable offense.

“Unfortunately, yes. This is Wade Wilson. He’s an X-Man,” Remy explained.

“Correction I am not an X-men,” he offers his hand. “Deadpool’s the name killing’s my game.” He pretended to curtsey.

Your eyes shot back to the man now known as Wade and you narrowed your gaze. “Why are you here? What do you want with me?”

“First of all, let me just say wow about that little trick of yours. Also to be fair, you overreacted,” he quipped.

“Overreacted? Some stranger just grabbed my hand. You're lucky I didn’t kill you. Now what the hell are you doing here?”

“Listen here, buttercup, I’m here on a favor of Shannon Stark. Remember her?”

Your mouth fell open slightly. “You know Shannon?”

“Yeah, we go way back!” He waved his hand. “I babysit her kid time from time but the point is, she wanted me to find you, to bring you home. She’s worried about you or something. I wasn’t really listening. I just owe her a favor so I got the gist of the mission and then said, ‘You owe me one hundred chimichangas and not the cheap stuff because I know Stark can afford the nice ones so don’t even think about skimping on --”

“Do you ever stop talking?” you interjected, glaring at him. “Wait, did you say Shannon’s kid?” This hit you like a wrecking ball.

Shannon had a child? There was… she… a child? You couldn’t wrap your head around it.

“No, he doesn’t,” Remy responded as he stared him down. “Wade, go on home now. Y/N and I don’t wanna go back. We’re happy and we are on our own.”

“Yeah see that wasn’t really part of the contract. I’m supposed to bring you back and --”

“Sorry to disappoint, but you can’t bring me back, I’m not going.”

“You’re gonna break Shannon’s heart,” he said with fake sadness.

“I already did, but nice try.” You turned and started to walk away.

“Well too bad because I don’t take no for an answer so gear up, we’re heading back now.” He went to pick you up. “And don’t try doing that little trick of yours again. Shannon said to bring you back but she didn't say in what condition.” Deadpool smirked.

“I already told you, asshat, I’m not going anywhere with you,” you replied and jumped back flaring up your purple energy. “You can just tell her you haven't found me.”

“Well it looks like that won’t be necessary. See the thing is she already knows you’re here.” Wade sing-songs. “When you weren't looking, I sent coordinates and they had been on standby.”

“You what?!” you all but shouted, terror snaking in your voice. “Remy, we have to go.” You started to turn and grab his sleeve.

Unbeknownst to you, Shannon had already gotten there and was waiting for the moment to appear.

“Are you really going to be a sack of unicorn shit and just break her heart like that?” Wade asked, cocking his head. “So much for being a good sister.”

Feeling guilty you turned to him. “She’s survived without me for this long I’m sure she’s more than fine.” You shook her head. “And what's a little heartbreak when she’s fine?”

Just then Shannon walked out of the alley she and Natasha had been waiting in. Both women went their separate ways. Shannon to you and Nat to Clint.

“So you’re really okay with breaking my heart after everything we’ve been through?” Shannon called out loud enough for you to hear. “What happened to being family?”

The sound of her voice cut you like a knife.

“You’ve got your own family now, it sounds like. I thought you’d be better off without me, and it appears I was right.” You let your hands span out beside you before falling, a sad smile on your face.

“Y/N, you’ve been gone for 5 years! You have no idea what's happened in that time.” She shook her head. “We may have found a way to reverse what Thanos did, but we need you—I need you.” She stretched her hand out to you.

“Sorry to ruin the moment but I’ve done my part,” Wade interrupted the moment. “Now when do I get my chimichangas?”

You eyed Wade for a moment, irritated with him after only five minutes. Then your gaze shot to Shannon’s hand.

“Really, Wade? Couldn’t this wait till after we got back?” Shannon asked, looking a little annoyed. “Plus they’re at the cabin, hidden because you got Morgan addicted to those!” she retorted.

Sheepish, he ducked his head. “It’s not my fault the kid hasn't tried all the good stuff.” Shrugging, he added, “It’s not like they’ll harm her anyways.”

“Just get back to the quinjet.” Shannon turned her head facing you again as Wade retreated. “Sorry about that, he can be a lot to handle sometimes.”

“Clearly. Much like, was it, Morgan? A child? You have a child?” There was venom and betrayal in your voice. Although, to be fair, she had no way to reach out to you to give you any news. That was on you.

“We can talk all about it, if you come back with me.”

“Why do you need me?” you questioned.

“It’s an all hands on deck sort of situation. You’re just about the only one who stands a chance against him.”

“But last time--”

“Last time was different. We know what we’re up against now. There may be a way to reverse it. To get everyone back.”

Tears pricked at your eyes. You hadn’t cried over Loki in some time. He was on your mind, every day, always, but the grief laden sobs had slowly died down over the last five years.

“Don’t promise something you can’t deliver,” you warned, your fist balled up. You could tell Remy was getting worried at your side. “I can’t go through this again.”

She stepped even closer to you, taking your hand. “You won’t. We will win this time. I promise. You need to come home, Y/N. It’s time.”

You looked back to Remy who gave you a look that told you this was your choice, your call. You knew he’d follow you anywhere, no matter what you chose.

You heaved a sigh and turned back to Shannon, giving a firm nod to let her know you were in. This is what you’d been waiting for. Now it was finally here, and even if it meant possibly losing everything again, going through the same pain again, it was worth it to try and get everyone back. To get him back.

Once everyone was back on the quinjet. Things got a bit quieter. You had fallen asleep, leaning on Remy. Shannon walked over to the two of you and covered you in a blanket.

“Here, she’ll get cold soon, she always does when she’s on here.” She smiled sadly seeing just how tired and bruised you looked. “I’ll let Tony know you’ll be staying with us. Did you want to share the room with Y/N or your own?” she asked, unsure of the situation.

“We can share a room, that'll be fine. Thank you, Shannon. It’s good to see you again.”

“Okay. Is there anything you guys might need right away? It’s good to see you too.”

Remy shook his head. “Nah, we should be good. Thank you though.”

“Alright then but if anything comes to mind let me know okay?”

“Will do.”

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