#mourning my loss of childhood innocence

[vierrel41n]

I hate the internet and I hate gross adults who made gross stuff with kids media in an easily accessible manner (looking at you bronies).

[catnippx]

my mind is unwell~

[bbydoll18xx]

How Do I Get to Heaven?

'Without changing a piece of me, how do I get to heaven?'

Paige Bueckers x reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Themes: angst, slurs, religious trauma, HAPPY ENDING i promise

A/N: hiii so this one is super angsty and sad. I've been going through a rough time, and this is my way of coping. I kinda touched on these subjects in 'She's Such a Good Girl' part 2, and this is similar. I was obsessed with 'Heaven' by Troye Sivan when I was like 15-16 and the lyrics hit a little too hard. If you're gay and were raised in a religious household, I suggest taking a listen.

~

“He’s a fuckin’ faggot!”

“Hate the sin, love the sinner.”

“Those kinds of people are going straight to hell.”

Your face remained neutral. It had to. But you had years of practice, and while you were internally sobbing at the bigoted remarks, there was nothing you could do to stop it. So you stayed quiet, and you maintained your usual look of disinterest. 

Running up the stairs, you finally make it into the safehaven of your bedroom. You shut the door quietly, trying to avoid seeming as if anything is wrong or out of the ordinary. Nothing could possibly be wrong. You were the perfect child; straight As, never in trouble, and you always were eager to help out around the house. But you were harboring a dirty little secret that threatened to rip you from the grips of being the golden girl of your family. 

Sobs wracked your body as you slid onto the carpeted floor of your room. What had started off as an innocent dinner had turned into a nightmare. Slurs were thrown around casually, and unbeknownst to your family, you were the unidentified target. Your sexuality was the reason you had become an empty shell of a person, riddled with fear of accidentally outting yourself. And the anxieties you felt were bubbling up, threatening to ruin the perfect image of yourself that you had crafted for your loved ones. 

This wasn’t the first time. And it surely would not be the last. 

Your family had always claimed to love you. Your childhood was a happy one, but you feared the truth would break everyone. And even if they found out and still claimed to love you, you knew they would always see you differently. Gone would be the girl they knew, and their eager touts would be replaced with hushed whispers. You’d forever be known as “the gay one.” And you fucking resented that.

So here you sat on the floor, trying to quiet your sobs as you mourned the loss of the life you once knew and the people who would eventually turn their backs to you. 

Summer was ending, and soon you would be fleeing back to college, where your guard could be let down just enough to show the world a glimpse of who you really were and who you really wanted to love. 

There was just one girl who you wanted to love you back.

Paige Bueckers was your best friend. And she was so very gay. 

Since meeting her at the beginning of freshman year, she had pulled you out of a darkness that had resided in you since you had realized your feelings towards girls. It did not take long for you to fall madly, head-over-heels in love with her, but you had vowed to ignore it. 

Even if there was any hope of reciprocated feelings, you knew deep down that being in love with a girl would mean having to come out to your family. And you were just not ready for that. You weren’t sure if you would ever be ready for that. 

The thought terrified you. You knew you were willingly inhibiting a possibility of incredible happiness and love, but because it was at the risk of losing your loved ones, you were shutting it all out. 

‘Fuck. I really need therapy,’ you think miserably. 

That was the understatement of the century.

~

The new school year starts, and Uconn’s campus is ablaze with excited students and the possibilities of what is to come. You are finally starting to feel like yourself again, and the second your parents leave your apartment, you don a t-shirt plastered with Diana Taurasi’s face on it. 

You could finally get your gay card back.

A loud knock rings through the empty apartment, and before you could get to the door to answer it, Paige is peeking her head through it, a huge grin covering her face. 

She wastes no time barreling through the room, sweeping you up in a hug and spinning you around. Your feet leave the ground, causing your stomach to flip, and your legs automatically wrap around her waist for leverage. 

“Someone missed me,” you giggle, feeling breathless from being back in Paige’s tight embrace. You had been dreaming of this since you last saw her, back in July. 

“Course I did,” she chuckles, voice muffled against your hair. “You glad to be back?”

You groan. “Fuck, yeah I am. Lookin’ forward to not hearing some slurs for a bit,” you say, fist-pumping the air with a dramatic roll of the eyes. “And I’m especially looking forward to not having to listen to Fox fuckin’ News,” you add, pretending to gag.

Paige’s eyes rake over you, and she pouts, already knowing how your family could be. She had listened to your endless rants and your pathetic cries for the past three years. 

“I think you should just move in with me after this year ends. That way you don’t have to put up with that shit. Then we can be together after graduation,” she says earnestly. 

This was not the first time she had proposed this idea. And while you were internally jumping at the idea, the fear of how it would look to your family made you shy away. Paige wasn’t exactly the most straight-looking girl. Living with her would make things complicated. Your covert feelings had no place in a situation like that. 

You sigh. “I’ll think about it, P,” you promise, linking your pinky with hers, as you always did. 

~

Christmas break quickly rolls around, and Paige’s words are still playing in the back of your mind. Your feelings for her had grown, as if that was even possible, and having to leave her and the safety and warmth that came with her, was agonizing. 

Sitting against the hard back of the pew in your family’s Catholic church, you look around, thinking about how these people would be okay with you burning in hell forevermore. The familiar feeling of shame creeps back into your chest, the flames licking at your wounds. 

You wanted to run and hide. You wanted Paige. 

The Christmas activities persist, and amongst the holiday cheer and piles of gifts, uncomfortable conversations emerge, and you shrink back to your room, desperate for respite.

You felt so fucking abandoned. This was supposed to be a time to enjoy with your family, and instead you were hiding.

There was one person, though, you knew would not abandon you, and that was Paige. Her presence was enough to lessen the sting of the inevitable rejection of your family, and in that moment, it was enough. 

Pulling out your phone, you dial her number, longing to hear her voice, all the way from Montana. Christmas break could not end quickly enough. 

Paige’s smiling face is soon on your phone screen, but it falls as soon as she sees the tears falling down your cheeks and your wobbling bottom lip.

“Oh, baby, what happened?” She asks in a hushed whisper, voice full of anger and concern. 

“They hate me,” you cry. “They fucking hate me, and they don’t even know it yet.”

Paige sighs, trying to find the right words. While she had always had acceptance from those around her, she knew how difficult it was for you to be at home, and she desperately wished to take away your anguish. 

“I love you,” she stresses. “And I know that doesnt fix your family treating you like shit, but soon you’ll be back and everything won’t seem as shitty, I promise.” 

You nod, wiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. 

She loved you. And you knew that. But you wanted her to love you in the way you loved her. For now, you would take what you could get.

“Just a few more days,” she assures, and you feel the tiniest bit better.

Just a few more days. 

~

The start of the new year always engenders change, and you had promised yourself as the clock chimed to signify it was midnight that this would be the year you would hike up your big girl panties and figure out your shit with Paige. Your senior year had to slow down, and Paige’s proposal had been in the back of your mind since August. 

If you could get over your stupid crush on her, things would be all good and dandy, but your efforts to eradicate her place in your heart were futile. You had mused it over nearly a million times. Maybe you’d eventually get over her, and maybe she would have some bizarre habit that would inevitably give you the ick, ridding you of all romantic feelings toward her. 

You could only hope. 

You pump yourself up on the way over to Paige’s apartment, encouraging words forming on your lips, leaving a trail of fog from your warm breath against the cold air. 

You knock on her door, cheeks pink from the frigid temperatures of Connecticut in January, grateful that it hides your blush. Paige opens the door, eyes wide and hopeful. She always looked so damn alluring. 

Your words leave your mouth before your chary mind could overtake you. “I want to move in with you after school ends. I can’t go back to living like that.”

Paige’s features twist into a smile, and she pulls you in for a hug. “Gonna take such good care of you,” she whispers, and you believe her. Your arms wrap around her middle, anchoring you to the floor. 

“I should probably tell you, though,” she trails, her voice getting smaller as she takes a deep breath. 

You look up at her, confusedly. “Tell me what?”

“I love you. And not just like as a friend. So if you don’t want to live with me because of that, I get it,” she mumbles, eyes trained on the floor.

Your breath quickens at the realization. Paige loved you. And the thought of being a colossal disappointment to your family and potentially cast out did not seem to matter as much anymore. Because here was someone who loved every part of you and accepted the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

The look of shock swiftly morphs into one of unbridled euphoria, and without another thought, you pull Paige in for a kiss. It was filled with the pure longing and want of years of uncontrollable urges and repressed thoughts, and it nearly made all the shittiness worth it.

Pulling away, Paige links her pinky with yours again, just as she had back in August. It was an unspoken promise of love. And while you knew the journey would be inexorably difficult, Paige was worth it in the end. 

~

dang that was rough lol but thanks for reading as always:) I really hope this wasn't too triggering or anything for anyone. This has been such a nice outlet for my pain and anger, as I really don't have anyone to talk to about this stuff. I am here for everyone who can relate. My inbox is open if you guys ever want/need to talk

xoxo katy

[torusdove]

— You taste sweet, like honey

Pairings: Yuuji x reader, Kento x reader, Satoru x reader, Choso x reader & Yuuta x reader.

Description: types of kisses I believe they fit!

— Pinky promise! ˚｡ Itadori Yuuji.

In the heart of the small, neighbourhood middle school, Itadori and you were found running behind one another. The laughter of innocence surrounded you both as you basked in the warmth of the sun, your hand stretched in front of you as you tried to lay your hands on his body, tagging him to be it.

Spring had brought the subtle wind with her, filling the air with the sweet scent of the blooming flowers and pollen that seemed to be giving Itadori a hard time once in a while.

With sparkling eyes, you took one big step, pressing your palm against his back. You absolutely didn’t mean to do it, but gasped anyway when he tumbled over into the fresh field of grass. It took him a little before he burst into laughter, rolling onto his back as he watched you with the same spark twinkling in his eyes.

“Y/n,” he breathed out, chest heaving up and down through a small cough that itched up into his throat. Those stupid pollen.

“We should marry when we’re allll grown up!”

You couldn’t fight the mischievous grin that seemed to grow into your lips, giggling softly behind your tiny hand before you took a seat beside his face, knees probably covered in green when you’d get up. “You’re silly!”

“I am dead-serious!” His voice became louder, sitting upright as his eyes struck yours with a certain certainty, “We will have a biiig house with eleven cats and seven birds!”

Caught up in his whimsy, imaginary future, you couldn’t help but giggle even more, innocent eyes crinkling into two new moons while he watched you with a smile curled into his lips. “Okay, ‘dori, I promise we will!”

Without another word, he extended his pinky high up into the sky, waiting patiently until you seemed to be doing the same, “Pinky promise?” And with all of your teeth on display in a big smile, you linked your pinky with his, your fingers intertwined in a gesture that felt as significant as any wedding ring, “Pinky promise!”

With your childish promise made, Itadori leaned in, his little lips pressing gently against your cheek. The kiss was sweet, innocent even, filled with the purity of childhood affection. Yet, both of your faces were flushing red, laughter filling the air a second later when the silliness was no longer ignorable.

As the sun shone her brightest colours in the sky, you continued to play, hearts filled with the joy of friendship and the magic of youthful promises that, for a moment, felt as real as the world around you.

— Morning affection ˚｡ Nanami Kento.

The soft glow of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a warm hue across the bedroom. Your eyes carefully fluttered open, aware of the new day dawning upon the world while stirring around gently. The empty spot beside you told you enough to mourn your loss already: Kento was awake and ready to head to work.

Nevertheless, you did have the privilege of being met by his back, blazer neatly straightened and tight around his biceps, hands probably busy fixing his tie. The smile that curled upwards into your lips had won the battle, watching him silently.

When he turned around and locked eyes with you, you could swear you saw the corners of his eyes soften around the edges, walking way too quickly towards you. Bending down a bit, slightly towering over your frame, his lips found their comfort on your forehead.

"Good morning, my love," he whispered, voice a gentle murmur. "’M sorry for waking you.” It was silly, the way he apologised for something that happened despite his quietness. So, with a soft smile, fully embracing his doting as the slumber still had a grasp around your wrist, you whispered, “Nonsense, Nami..”

As you felt him backing away, you debated whether to grasp his wrist and ask him to stay “for just five minutes longer”, but decided against it when he seemed at peace after giving you such a sweet goodbye.

Patting his chest softly, straightening his tie out just the tiniest bit, you watched him with a fond expression, “Gon’ miss you, Nami – hurry back home, ‘kay?”

With an amused grin, he nodded his head, letting his lips dip down to meet your forehead for a second time. You could feel his grin against your head, softly breaking out into a smile yourself.

“I will be back before you know it, sweetheart.” With that, he walked towards the bedroom door, glancing once more at your body being swallowed by the fluffy blankets. It may have been a brief moment for outsiders, but it warmed your body more than the blankets ever could. Watching him leave the room, you couldn’t help but sigh out contently, already counting down the seconds he’d come back home.

— Drowsy love ˚｡ Kamo Choso.

The room was dimly lit, with the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting a warm ambience. Laying entwined in the comfort of your bed, the soft sheets cradled Choso and you like two warm arms. Both on the verge of sleep, but a gentle restlessness lingering in the air.

Your lips met lazily, a slow dance of affection. Eyes half-closed, you exchanged sweet, drowsy kisses, each one deepening the quiet intimacy between you. Fingertips traced gentle patterns on bare skin, a silent language of love spoken in the quiet of the night.

A contented sigh escaped as you parted from his lips, only to hear a whine coming from his lips in the hopes of gravitating back together. The world outside your bedroom seemed to fade away, leaving only the rhythmic exchange of sleepy kisses and the steady beating of your hearts.

The room filled with the soothing sounds of your shared breaths, creating a melody of quiet affection. The soft rustle of the sheets only echoed the tender moments between you even more, and in the hushed stillness, you continued your wordless exchange, savouring the sweetness of those sleepy kisses that spoke volumes about the love you held for one another.

— What were we waiting for? ˚｡ Gojo Satoru.

The room was bathed in a blue glow from the long-forgotten TV, a playlist playing in the background which neither of you paid any attention to. A low hum of laughter and music filled the air as Satoru and you, both slightly tipsy -rather, very much drunk-, found yourselves on the sofa in the middle of the shared living room.

Originally, you’d have shared this very same sofa with three other people: Suguru, Kento and Ieiri. However, with all three of them finding their way in life, the sofa only seemed familiar to your two figures.

With one last sip from your glass of wine, you let your head fall back against the headrest, closing your eyes while a deep sigh spilt from your mouth. Satoru couldn’t help but mirror your body, letting his fall back in the same way, only with his head turned towards the side of your face.

Your hair was messy, not unkept, but dishevelled enough to be called messy. There was a soft, red glow blooming into your hot cheeks, darker than the usual shade of lipstick that adorned your chapped lips. He noticed the way your chest moved at a much slower pace: a lazy, deep breath followed by a -just as- lazy deep exhale. Your eyes were fluttered shut, eyelashes moving the slightest bit along with your eyes.

Your exams were finally over, and now you could relax.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to feel his eyes burning holes into your soul, but this time the heat felt more unbearable. Maybe your tolerance for alcohol wasn’t as high as you thought.

Or perhaps he was staring a little harder than normal.

There was no escaping his gaze, no escaping his strikingly clear eyes, even when you had convinced yourself that opening your own slowly, would maybe get the job done.

It wouldn’t.

His irises were coloured a fierce blue, a luminous glow of happiness and youthfulness sparkling within them. They burned fanatically, challenging the sun by showing off its brightness. They could devour the beauty of the rest of the world with ease, leaving you to question whether you had seen anything that would even come close to their beauty. Resting your cheek on the headrest, you finally let your eyes meet.

A subtle shift in the atmosphere hinted at unspoken feelings.

Your cheeks felt hot and your head was pounding, fingers quick to fidget with the rims of your nails to get your mind a little more focused. A slight buzz in the back of your mind had you feeling hazy, dozy even. It made you question whether or not your eyes were betraying you by observing his body leaning more towards yours.

You couldn’t speak of any betrayal when your eyes caught his lingering on your lips, a playful smile etching its way into the corners of his mouth. He never lost his childish playfulness, your strand of hair being twirled around his finger absentmindedly being proof of it.

The TV played a soft melody, creating a backdrop for the unspoken tension between you. A bubble of air seemed to have settled its claws into your trachea, your hand carefully finding its way to his knee.

Satoru had always been beautiful, had always had girls running after him ever since you had known him. And up to this very moment, you had never quite understood.

In turn, Satoru let his body shift closer, lightly nudging your thigh with his. The air buzzed with quiet anticipation as you shared a secret, drowsy smile, realizing that something unspoken lingered between you.

A shared moment of vulnerability passed between your gaze, each recognizing the unspoken feelings. His hand found your fidgeting ones, intertwining his fingers with yours until you had become completely still. The room seemed to fade away as both of you moved closer, drawn together by an undeniable magnetic force.

With a gentle touch, your free hand brushed a strand of white away from his face, your fingertips grazing his cheek. The atmosphere crackled with unspoken words, but in that shared moment of silence, you both understood. Without needing to say a word, your lips met in a soft, lingering kiss that spoke volumes about the connection you had discovered in the midst of a tipsy night.

— This isn't goodbye ˚｡ Okkotsu Yuuta.

The airport terminal was buzzing with the hum of conversations and the shuffle of hurried footsteps. Surrounded by the busy crowd, Yuuta and you stood facing each other, expressions a mix of anticipation, sadness and longing. With his bag packed and his luggage beside him, you couldn’t help but tear up, trying to hold them back by flashing him a wobbly smile.

"I guess it is finally time.." Yuuta said, his voice tinged with slight excitement but also reluctance as his eyes picked up on your own. Your usually bright whites had turned a pinkish colour, the sparkle within them also nowhere to be found.

Your head moved up and down, blinking back tears and swallowing the big lump that seemed to be stuck in your trachea, "You will have a great time."

Noticing your soft speech, and your shimmering eyes, Yuuta couldn’t stop his body from moving closer into your proximity, reaching for your hands and squeezing them softly in reassurance, “I will be back before you know it.”

There was no use in giving him any sort of rebuttal, nodding once more as your hands lightly squeezed him back. “I know,” you measly whispered out, “I am proud of you for coming this far.”

These were the last moments of the two of you being able to be this close to one another, and Yuuta seemed to realise that as well. Pressing his forehead against yours, he spoke even softer than before, eyes strikingly clear, “I promise I’ll come back. I’ll come back stronger and braver, for you.”

You couldn’t manage more than a small smile, eyes glistening in the bright airport lighting, “I will be here.” Yuuta’s thumb brushed across your cheek, wiping away a stray tear as gently as he could.

It didn’t take him long, but it did take him a handful of courage to do what he desperately wanted to do months ago. With his hands gently cupping your face, he pressed his lips, with utmost tenderness, against yours. Surely, you could categorise it as a bittersweet kiss, filled with the promise of return and the ache of separation.

However, as you watched him disappear into the crowd, becoming one with the sea of people, you couldn’t help but not think of this as a departure, but more so as a new beginning that just had to reach its starting point.

Author speaking: i love reading comments and quoted reblogs ;) take care!! <3

[quack-quack-snacks]

Time Will Tell - Chapter 1.9

My Time Will Tell Masterlist

My Cha Hyun-su Masterlist

My Navigation and Masterlist

The Time Will Tell Glossary

Warnings: Hyun-su being sweet with the kids, Hyun-su having a monster episode. Word Count: 1,113

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“Where’s appa? And noona?” Yeong-su questioned his older sister tearfully. His nose sniffled every few seconds as the tears refused to stop. “I’m scared. Su-yeong, it’s too dark in here.”

“It’s okay,” Su-yeong tried to console her brother. “We’re gonna be alright. Unnie will come and save us.”

“And appa?” Yeong-su asked again. Both kids were too young to truly understand how fatal the fall of their father was, Yeong-su only recently even learning what death was. Su-yeong had hope for her father’s safety, one that was born of childhood innocence and a need for guidance. 

“Yeah, he’ll be back soon,” she reassured. Her own tears soaked her cheeks and she cried quietly, trying to stay strong for her younger brother but only being able to do so for so long. She was only nine. She wasn’t supposed to be doing all of this at such a young age. 

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Both kids flinched and stayed quiet. Su-yeong pointed her flightlight at the door when it knocked again. She could just barely see the silhouette of a man through the glass but didn’t want to risk it. Not until she heard him speak. 

“Kids. I’m here to help you. I know you’re scared but I’m not a monster. I’ll get you to safety,” he promised. Su-yeong got up and walked to open the door, cautiously at first but then opening it fully for the stranger to enter. 

He walked in, looking at the two kids and sighing in relief when he saw they were unharmed. He helped set up some candles to start with before the three of them sat around the wax fires on the floor. 

“Please, sir,” Yeong-su was the first to interrupt the silence that had settled over them like a blanket. “Do you think you can save our dad?” He asked. His voice was devoid of any hope but he still desperately needed the answer to be a yes. 

“What?” Hyun-su asked them, momentarily forgetting how their father fell from out their window on the 12th floor. 

“Our dad fell down the building and hit the ground,” the young boy explained. 

Hyun-su looked down at his lap, wishing he didn’t have to be the bearer of bad news for these two kids. “I know.”

“Maybe he’s still-” Su-yeong said hopefully only for that hope to be crushed by his next words. 

“I’m afraid nobody can survive a fall from the 12th floor,” he confessed. Both kids started to sob softly, mourning the loss of their father. Hyun-su took a moment before trying to lighten their spirits with some good news, no matter how small that news was in comparison to everything else. “There’s a man on the 14th floor that has a lot of food for both of you. You’re hungry, aren’t you?” Both kids nodded in agreement and he continued. “You don’t want to stay here by yourselves, am I right?” 

“But what about noona?” Yeong-su asked quickly, his voice wobbly from the tears he continued to shed. 

“What?” Hyun-su asked.

“What about our sister? What if she comes back here?” Su-yeong elaborated. Hyun-su took a moment before coming up with an idea. 

“What if we left her a note to tell her where we went? That way she can head there too if she comes back,” he offered. Both kids looked content with that idea and he smiled softly, trying to reassure them. 

“In order to get there, we’ll have to go into the hallway. There might be monsters,” he continued with the explanation of his plan. “How old are the two of you?”

“I’m nine…” Su-yeong started. “And my brother is six years old.”

He looked between the two of them before smiling softly again. “You know, those are perfect ages to fight monsters,” he assured. Another moment of silence went by as he looked between the two of them before reaching over to gently squeeze the younger boy’s shoulder since he was still sobbing. “Don’t worry, okay? I’m gonna protect you, I promise.”

He ignored how his hands shook when he promised them that. He wasn’t lying about that promise, he would protect them no matter what. No matter what it took, he wouldn’t let any harm come to them. 

That didn’t mean he wasn’t scared though. 

After placing a sticky note on the wall directly next to the front door of the apartment, Hyun-su led them out of their home, down the hallway, and to the entrance of the stairs. After opening the door and letting them go through first, he took a step to join them until he felt his legs freeze in place. A jolt of pain rushed through his body but the one he focused on the most was the one on his right forearm, right over his scars. His eyes widened and his breath staggered when he saw a hand - that had to be his but was not one of the two attached to his body - run over his arm. 

‘Protect them?’ He heard his own voice question him. The voice sounded like it was spoken directly into his ear, as if a clone of himself was standing behind him and whispering it like a secret. ‘Is that what you want to do?’

He stumbled, dropping his weapon and falling against the wall. The same type of nosebleed he had gotten hours ago in his apartment happened again. Blood streamed out in an almost comically exorbitant amount. It stained his skin and his clothes, soaking everything within its path. His eyes squeezed shut, images flashing through his mind without his consent and making his head pound. 

He knew what this meant. 

He knew this meant he was infected.

He just wished it came after he had saved the two kids in front of him. 

“Are you okay?” Su-yeong asked cautiously when she didn’t hear or see him following them.

“Get away from me,” he warned, his voice strained. “Leave, now!” And he slammed the door to the stairs shut, separating them from him. 

“You always liked to act cool in front of the weak, didn’t you? Now look what happened,” the other version of himself asked. Other voices, ones he knew from the past, bounced around and echoed through his head. 

“It was my fault…”

“Fucking dumbass! Haha!”

“Come out!”

“Hyun-su? I’m not related to him! Who told you that?”

“Just let it go, please Hyun-su?”

“It was my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Bastard!”

“It was your fault!”

“Just let it go, please Hyun-su?”

“You’re a sad case. It was unfair.”

“Just die already.”

“It was unfair.”

“It was unfair.”

“It was unfair.”

[gogandmagog]

I just want you to know that the Thematic Implications of Ken Ford dying in WWI instead of Walter lives in my brain now. The way it would so subtly change the story! That being the Hero won't save you, that being the Heroine doesn't mean you get your prize at the end, that "the white flame of sacrifice" doesn't mean you will get to be the sacrificial lamb--that the sensitive genius will have to live with the horrors anyway. Rilla being the symbol of all those girls who were left without sweethearts instead of Una--who might instead by a symbol of all those girls who found their sweethearts irrevocably changed. Obsessed.

SO WELL SAID, @sparrowsarus!!!!   VERY MUCH. All of this, very much.     Obviously, I understand why it had to be a Blythe, for the simple fact that it cuts the reader ever so much deeper than the converse option of losing the very negligible Ken Ford... Walter is a loss that stings everyone, because we are so profoundly attached to him, and if not to him, then to his family. What hurts them hurts us. But everything you say does feel thematically more attractive to the after-shocks message underlying in the story, because of the occasional inference to the still-coming uphill battle of post-war recovery. Maud can be quoted as personally saying, “If ever peace comes again, we will not know how to live in it.” And really, I think of Rilla were to have ever to’ve had a sequel, this thought, together with what you’ve outlined would’ve been far more realistic to grapple with. Rilla’s ending, as it stands, is rooted in an idealistic ‘return’ to innocence, as we see demonstrated with the coinciding return of her childhood lisp... but to me it’s also another semi-contrived signature fairytale ending that we often see in LMM’s classic wrap-up scenes. And for me, this is the only time I actually do clock her classic quick wrap-up as contrived. Usually, I fully recognise that her books were meant for children; that she herself calls them fairytales, and states that the rules laid out in her books would never work in real life. That the natural adult world and the natural adult questions that come with them, don’t have a place or belong in these fairytales. Kids have an effortless trust in happy-ever-afters that grownups struggle with. But Rilla spent so long being seeped in harsh reality, and the pain of a very ugly War... that really, if not for x-ray vision we get from TBAQ that shows us the Blythe’s (and Una’s!) residual struggle, the ending Rilla got would almost feel unequal to the pain in its pages.

The sensitive genius having to live with the horrors anyway? Could’ve been an even stronger message of hope and resilience, in some ways. Learning the hard parts of Keeping the Faith. Faith put to the test, faith contending with survivors guilt.

Rilla, in Una’s spot, though! I kind of waffle with the idea of her as being a lifelong leftover sweetheart, the way Una is. Right before Ken comes back, Rilla’s coolly resigned herself to the notion of him never coming back for her, and in the very next moment shrugs it off and has decided to go to Redmond after all, lol. 😅 Of course she would’ve had an appropriate period of mourning for Ken, but I honestly think she would’ve married someone else, in the years following.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

packing up to go

pairing: steve harrington x fem byers!reader

summary: the moving boxes are being filled and tears are being shed.

series masterlist

previous chapter next chapter

October 7, 1985

She kept saying, “Fresh starts will be good for everyone” “This is good for us.” Any variation that came to mind, Joyce Byers said it aloud to make everyone feel better. It never worked though, all four of you, plus your friends hated the idea of your family moving to the other side of the country.

California was thousands of miles away from everything you grew up loving and hating. Everyone was now a phone call, letter, or five-hour plane ride away. It sucked. So you sulked and held back tears as you packed the last of your room into cardboard boxes.

“I’ll miss you, Mr. Teddy. Nice and soft.” Steve’s voice bounced off your bare walls while hugging a stuffed animal from your childhood.

You sighed dramatically, “Guess that means you’ll mourn his loss more than mine. I get it, bears before girls.” Tapping off your box of clothes.

“Well, me and Mr. Teddy have a history. You wouldn’t understand.” Lovingly petting the plushies head.

You scoffed, “What history? You’ve ‘met’ him two years ago. My grandma gave me him for Hanukkah. When I was four.”

You walked over to Steve, who stared into the doll's cold black eyes, and you felt a pang of jealousy towards the doll. You can leave the bear with Steve and he’ll get to hug it to sleep every night, it’s cotton-filled ears won’t short-circuit whenever Steve says I love you. A stuffed bear will be able to stay with Steve when you can’t and it makes you sad.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Steve set Mr. Teddy atop your box so his hands could reach out to cup your cheeks. You didn’t realize you had tears falling until Steve was getting blurry and he was knuckling away the waterdrops.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to be separated from you.” A blubbering mess as you wrapped your arms tight around Steve's middle, trying to burrow into his yellow sweater.

“It's gonna be okay, baby. We’ll still talk on the phone and I’ll start sending letters and pictures so you aren’t missing out. And I’m gonna save money so I can visit you during the holidays.” 

You sniffled your tears as Steve pressed a deep lingering kiss to your hairline. “I love you too much to lose you. 

So you're stuck with me one way or another.” And he squeezed you tighter.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

-

taglist: heartyhope / @preciousbabypeter / @dessxoxsworld / piper3113 / @animiacorn / @burn1ngw00d / @drxwstxrkxy / @m-rae23 / @noisyeggsmoneystatesman / yournan69 / @thats-s0-ravenn / @ameliabs-world / @mayonesavegana / @gracella0709 / @gengen64 / @alecmores / choclate32 / @stvrdustalexx / @redheadedfangirl / @agustdeeyaa / @yappydoo / @liberhoe / hehehehannahthings / @ladybug0095 / @sweeter-innocence-fics / j-6o / @voteforevilthoughts s / @harrysflowercrownrry / @ilovereadingfanfics / @sorrow-has-a-place-here / @80strashbag / @sunsumonner / sweet1peach / @cierrajhill / we-out- here-simping / nix-rose-a / @x-theolivia / @stylesyourmine / @starkeylover / @ihatepeanutss / @yeehawbrothers / @parkershoco / @scorpiolystoned /

[ninadove]

Hello, all respectfully, may I ask, why do you want emilie to be dead? I mean adrien deserves to have his mom back, don’t you think? You can answer it thru private chat if it makes you more comfortable.

No that’s perfectly fine! I love getting a chance to overanalyse and write down my own thoughts! 📝

So, I have a complicated relationship with Emilie as a character, but I don’t hate her by any means. I do believe she is a lot less pure and innocent than we were first led to believe, but that makes her much more compelling, so as far as I’m concerned it’s a great writing choice.

The reason I think she should be dead, or more accurately, stay dead (the nuance is crucial), is simply storytelling.

As fun as the show is, it is also pretty serious when it wants to be, and these 5 seasons were written with a couple of core messages in mind:

Part of the experience of being human is to accept that there is no magical solution to our problems. Sometimes things don’t work out, sometimes we lose the people we care about; and actions bring consequences, always. This is why using the Peacock carries such a heavy toll, even after it is fixed, and why the Lucky Charm primarily relies on Marinette’s intelligence and creativity (characteristically human qualities) rather than being an automatic problem solver.

Whenever these losses occur — you have to move on. Staying stuck in the past means depriving yourself of a chance to enjoy the present and plan for the future. All of the events of these 5 seasons were triggered by Gabriel’s inability to accept the concept of death, and by his attempts to drag all of Paris down the pits of grief (symbolised by the akuma attacks) with him — starting with his own son.

Of course, Adrien deserves to be happy and loved! And Emilie herself explains how it can happen:

By letting her go.

Adrien is an extremely strong and loving kid who, unlike his father, is able to shoulder the pain while still opening himself up to the world. Gabriel trying to bring Emilie back did nothing to fix the sorrow his son had to deal with; in fact, it cost him his other parent and a normal childhood in the process.

But the thing is — Adrien does not need Emilie anymore.

He has a girlfriend who loves him so much she gave his dad one last chance to make the right choice, despite all the pain he caused (and will likely continue to cause from the grave). He has a cousin who loves him so much he was willing to burn the world down, then help fix it to protect him. He has amazing friends who supported him through this entire ordeal (special shout-out to Nino, who has been on Gabriel’s case since S1 E9), even when he did not feel comfortable enough to share the full extent of the abuse he was going through. He has Amelie and Nathalie, who will provide him with the motherly love he needs in his life, and Tom and Sabine, who are already packing him his breakfast every morning because they’ve carved him a place in their family and hearts. Also, he has a cheese-eating demon who lives in his pocket.

No one is entitled to raising the dead, and Adrien would never even consider it. But he does deserve love and care and happiness, things his father deprived him of in his senseless quest to defy the laws of nature — things he was able to build for himself because he chose to be kind and vulnerable despite his grief.

Season 6 will be terrible on him, but he will come back stronger on the other side. And in doing so, he will send an important message to the core audience of the show: young children who will sooner or later have to mourn a loved one themselves, but will know they can be OK thanks to his example.

And you know, sometimes us adults need a little reminder too. 💚

[theshslpumpkinghost]

drdt summer fun day 3: flowers!

DRDT But It’s Flower Meanings!

Teruko

- Butterfly Weed - ‘Leave me,’ ‘You’ve been warned.’

- Marigolds are seen as a sign of death and misfortune by many cultures

- Anemones - mean forsaken and also a sign of fragility

- Bells of Ireland - Good Luck

- Blackthorn - Hope against adversity, Good Fortune, Difficulty

- Catchfly (white) - Betrayed

- Celandine - Deceptive hopes

David

- Mock oranges - mean deceit

- Cyclamens - meaning resignation or goodbye

- Angelicas - meaning inspiration

Eden

- Daisies - Innocence, Loyalty, Love

- Arborvitae - Everlasting friendship

- Aloysia - Forgiveness

- Asters (pink) - Innocence, Love, Affection.

- Violets (purple) - Love between two women

- Freesia - Innocence, Trust

- Hydrangea (Purple) - A desire to deeply understand someone

Xander

- Adder’s Tongue - Deceit

- Hyacinths - Rashness

- Weeping Willow - Mourning

- Purple Hyacinths - 'I am sorry, please forgive me,' sorrow.

- Rue - Regret, Sorrow, Repentance

- Coltsfoot - ‘Justice shall be done.’

Min

- Roses - Love

- Asters (pink) - Innocence, Love, Affection.

- Pink Roses - Perfect happiness, 'please believe me'

- Evening Primrose - Silent Love

- Walnut - Intellect

- Scabius - Unfortunate attachment

Charles

- White Chrysanthemums - Used as a funeral flower or to lay on graves, also meaning 'truth'

- Adonis’ Flower - Painful remembrance

- Buttercups - Memories of childhood

Ace

- Petunias - Resentment, Anger

- Barberry - Sourness of temper

- Basil - Hate

- Lilies (orange) - Hatred, Disdain, Contempt

- Foxglove - Insecurity

- Roses (yellow) - Cowardice

Levi

- White Roses (Dried) - Death is preferable to loss of virtue

- Purple Hyacinths - 'I am sorry, please forgive me,' sorrow.

Hu

- Orchids - Love, Beauty, Refinement, 'Beautiful Lady'

- Wood Sorrel - Maternal Tenderness

- Daylilies - Chinese emblem for 'mother'

- Cinquefoils - Maternal Affection

Whit

- Crocuses - Cheerfulness

- Coreopsis - Always cheerful

- Tulips (yellow) - Hopeless love

- Xeranthemum - Cheerfulness under adversity

- Tulips (orange) - Understanding

Veronika

- Monkshoods - Beware, a deadly foe is here

- Roses (black) - Death, Obsession, Mystery

- Tuberose - Dangerous pleasures

Arturo

- Jonquils - 'Love me,' desire for affection to be returned

- Callas - Beauty

- Narcissus - Self-love, Egotism

- Sweet Sultan - Felicity

J

- Gladioli - 'Give me a break

- Petunias - Resentment

- Roses (yellow) - intense emotion

Rose

- Acanthus - Art

- Forget-Me-Nots - Memories

- Moonwort - Forgetfulness

Nico

- Adder’s Tongue - Deceit

- Borage - Bluntness

- Petunias - Resentment

- Hellebores - Anxiety, 'tranquilise my anxiety'

Arei

- Zinnias (Mixed) - Thinking/In memory of an absent friend

- Laurestine - ‘i die if neglected’

- Arborvitae - Everlasting friendship

- Irises - 'Your friendship means so much to me’

if you wanna add any, feel free to ask! :D

…i spent so long on this thing aaa

[misshcrror]

        𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑: ──── YASEMIN's char study ;

BOLD — always applies. ITALICS — situational / sometimes / kind of. STRIKED OUT — never applies or uncomfortable with.

          𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑     𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘     :     𝐺𝑂𝑇𝐻𝐼𝐶 𝐿𝐼𝑇𝐸𝑅𝐴𝑇𝑈𝑅𝐸  

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀 : giant feather-beds. tightening the corset. moonlit walks. killing for love. cruelty for the sake of love. love is always selfish. romantic tragedy. love to the brink of destruction. nighttime rendezvous. bloody kisses on soft skin. death was the maiden. a very strange agony. claimed by the supernatural. dreaming about your lover. sympathy for the devil. loving me to death. candlesticks lighting up the palm of your hand. a passion that wears you. killing the one you love.

𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀 : a single red rose laid out to be found. sensual voices singing them to sleep. a familiar shadow attending every recital. love waits on the rooftop in the night. two soulmates holding hands. walking down long corridors. retrieving something lost. devoting one’s craft to them. making them your muse. the horror was for love. painted faces on parade. gentle touches in the dark. revealing your darkest secrets. beauty and the beast. writing messages on the mirror. kindness conquers all. letting your lover go. love never dies.

𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄 : loving the escape. an impassioned affair. being consumed by love. meeting your soulmate. lace and silk. thirsting for the perfect romance. marrying for passion. losing yourself in the face of your lover. wedding veils and bouquets of pink roses. maddened by love. finding warmth in the cold. calling out for your love. starting at the bottom. the fire cleanses everything. hiding your passion. your love will destroy me / my love will destroy you.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘 : painting a portrait or sketching the face of someone you love. meeting in secret. visions of your lover dying. clutching a lover’s clothes to your chest. love so consuming you kill them. protecting their innocence at all costs. betrayal. polyamory. devotion. flowers for the one you love. remembering the name of your first love. jealousy when you see them with someone else. love so consuming you die for it. visiting the the place where you saw them the first time.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎 : letters to your lover. marrying for love. these bars can't keep me from you. motivated by love. an avenging angel. scorching jealousy. love reborn. devoted to memory. it was all for you. going your separate ways. commit murder for me. an unstoppable hunger. death comes for us all. the love stronger eventually grows apart.

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐀 : the holiest love. girls love wolves. the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. violence is passion. red lips, sharp teeth. love letters in a diary. unrelenting support. getting lost in the woods. coming home to you. walking backwards into hell. revenge for my love. even death won't stop me. we can live forever. love is an open wound. too much love to give. bestowing your favor. a never-ending thirst. beauty even in death. ravenous desire. if only death had a heart to give. a mercy killing. these violent delights have violent ends.

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍 : childhood friends to lovers. they were something out of a dream. arranged marriages. learning to love. was it all really worth it? our guilt can know no bounds. revenge, my love. dismembered body parts. my beating heart in your open palm. your death destroys me. adam and eve. crossing the mountains. an antagonist in mourning. paradise lost. the loss of innocence. abandoning your dream. the tempest on the horizon. humans are the real monsters. my love is wiser than my hate.

[songbirdseung]

younger / choi beomgyu

song recommendation: younger by ruel

non-idol!beomgyu ~ childhood friends to lovers? ~ angst / wc: 4k

(dont be a silent reader, comment and let me know what you think about the story~~)

You and Beomgyu would roam the nighttime streets together, hidden from the watchful eyes of unaware parents. The glow of the television, coupled with the stubborn persistence of bedroom lights, painted a canvas of secrets. Yet, it's been ages since you last crossed paths, the innocence that once bound you together seemingly lost in the labyrinth of time. Beomgyu's absence left you in a void, the shadows deepening as he disappeared into the darkness of a park, a departure marking the irreversible shift in the dynamics of your relationship. The echoes of those nights linger, but the connection you once shared now stands as a mere silhouette of what it used to be—forever altered, and, regrettably, never to be the same again.

At the tender age of eleven, he departed without a trace, leaving you without farewells or explanations. In the quiet of the night, both sets of parents chose not to awaken you, and when dawn broke, your innocent request for a playdate with Beomgyu was met with the somber gazes of your own parents. They delivered the heart-wrenching news that he had relocated to another city, and in that moment, at the age of eleven, you found yourself mourning the abrupt loss of a best friend of nine years.

In the soft morning light that filtered through your bedroom curtains, you excitedly approached your parents with the anticipation of a playdate with Beomgyu. The sparkle in your eyes dimmed, however, as you were met with the unusual solemnity that hung heavy in the air.

"Mom, Dad, can Beomgyu come over today? We were going to play our favorite game," you asked, innocence radiating from your hopeful gaze.

Your parents exchanged a glance, their expressions reflecting a shared sorrow. Taking a deep breath, your mother knelt down to your eye level, her eyes carrying a weight that spoke of difficult news.

"Sweetheart," she began, her voice gentle yet laced with sadness, "Beomgyu has moved away to another city."

Your eyes widened, confusion clouding your face. "Moved away? But… why? He didn't even say goodbye."

Your father joined the conversation, crouching down beside you. "It happened late last night, and we didn't want to wake you. Your friend had to leave without saying goodbye, and we're so sorry, sweetheart."

A mixture of disbelief and aching sorrow settled over you. "But he's my best friend. Why didn't he tell me? Will he come back?"

Your mother wrapped you in a comforting embrace, her words soft as she explained, "Sometimes, people have to move for different reasons, and it's not always easy for them to say goodbye. We know how much Beomgyu means to you, and we're here for you, okay?"

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. The room that once echoed with laughter from shared adventures now felt empty, the absence of your dearest friend creating a void that seemed impossible to fill. As your parents held you close, the pain of losing Beomgyu settled into your young heart, and the innocence of childhood faced its first encounter with the bittersweet sting of change.

-- beomgyu's pov --

Beomgyu stirred from a restless sleep, the hum of the car engine and the rhythmic pattern of streetlights flickering through the window casting an eerie glow. Disoriented and sleepy-eyed, he sat up, rubbing his eyes as he glanced around the dim interior of the car.

"Where are we going?" he asked innocently, the excitement of a family trip bubbling in his voice.

His parents exchanged a glance, and his mother turned to him with a warm smile that held a hint of sadness. "Oh, it's just a small trip, sweetheart. A surprise for you and the family."

Beomgyu's eyes lit up, and a grin spread across his face. "Really? That's awesome! Can't wait to see where we're going. Is Y/N coming too? I want to show them all the cool places!"

His parents shared a glance laden with a poignant understanding, their smiles masking a deeper sadness. "Ah, Y/N couldn't make it this time, but we'll take lots of pictures to share with them when we get back."

Undeterred, Beomgyu leaned back in the seat, his mind already racing with plans for the adventure ahead. "Sure, sure! I'll tell Y/N all about it when we're back. They'll be so jealous they missed out!"

His parents exchanged another look, a silent acknowledgment of the weight behind the words. As the car continued its journey through the night, Beomgyu's innocent excitement filled the space, unaware that the small trip he anticipated was a journey that would reshape the landscape of his life, leaving Y/N and the familiar streets behind in a bittersweet memory.

-- later, beomgyu's pov --

The car's engine sputtered to a stop as the first rays of dawn painted the sky. Beomgyu squinted at the unfamiliar surroundings, confusion etching his features as he realized they hadn't arrived at a hotel as expected, but at a house. His parents exchanged glances, an unspoken acknowledgment of the truth that had yet to be revealed.

As the car doors opened, Beomgyu caught sight of the numerous suitcases and boxes piled in the trunk — more luggage than any ordinary trip would require. A knot of realization tightened in his stomach, the pieces clicking into place like a puzzle he hadn't been prepared to solve.

"Mom, Dad, why did you lie to me?" Beomgyu's voice trembled as he confronted the truth, tears welling in his eyes.

His parents exchanged somber looks, the weight of their decision evident in their expressions. His mother crouched down to his eye level, her voice gentle but tinged with sorrow.

"Sweetheart, we didn't want to upset you. It's just that… we're not going back home this time. This is our new house," she explained, her words hanging heavy in the air.

Beomgyu's eyes widened, the weight of the revelation sinking in. "What do you mean, not going back home? What about my friends? What about Y/N?" His voice quivered, the fear of losing the world he knew becoming too real.

His father placed a hand on his shoulder, attempting to comfort him. "We know it's a lot to take in, Beomgyu. This is a new beginning for us. You'll make new friends, and Y/N will always be a part of your life, even if you're far away."

But the reassurances fell on ears deafened by the ache of change. Beomgyu felt the tears spill over, his heart heavy with the weight of leaving behind the familiar, the friends, and the home he loved. As the reality of the situation settled in, his small shoulders shook with the grief of a chapter ending, and the uncertainty of a new one beginning.

-- months later --

Months passed in the new city, and Beomgyu found himself navigating a different life. The bustling streets, unfamiliar faces, and new routines became the backdrop to his days. His heart yearned for the familiar comfort of the old neighborhood, especially the laughter and shared adventures with you.

Late at night, under the soft glow of a borrowed phone, he'd send short messages, tapping out words of longing. "Miss you. Wish you were here," he'd type, his heart pouring into each letter. The response, when it came, was a fleeting connection to the world he left behind. The distance stretched in both miles and melancholy, and he'd find himself staring at the moon, wondering if you were doing the same.

In the town left behind, you adjusted to a life that seemed to echo with the absence of Beomgyu. The familiar haunts became bittersweet reminders, each corner holding memories of laughter and shared secrets. The longing for your friend filled your days, coloring the mundane with a tinge of melancholy.

The borrowed phone became a lifeline, a precious connection to the friend who now felt galaxies away. "Hey, how's it going there?" you'd text, fingers tapping out words that carried the weight of missing someone. The brief exchanges were a lifeline, moments of solace in the midst of change.

The conversations were small, sporadic, and filled with the silent understanding that this was the best they could manage. "Remember the treehouse? I found a cool park here too," Beomgyu typed, trying to bridge the gap.

"I went to the movies last week. Missed having you there," you replied, the longing evident in the simple words.

Through these fragments of connection, a shared sentiment emerged — the ache of separation and the hope that someday, the miles that kept them apart would lessen, and they'd find themselves under the same moon again. The small texts became the threads that kept their friendship stitched together across the expanse that now lay between them.

--

The soft glow of the moon seeped through Beomgyu's bedroom window, casting a melancholy ambiance on the walls. Sulking in the quiet confines of his room, he couldn't shake the weight of homesickness that clung to him like a shadow. The dinner table downstairs, once a place of familial warmth, seemed like a world away.

His mother, attuned to the echoes of her son's melancholy, gently tapped on the door. "Beomgyu, sweetheart, dinner's ready. Won't you come down and join us?"

A muffled response, barely audible through the closed door, betrayed his disheartened state.

His mother sighed softly before stepping into the room. The soft glow of the bedside lamp revealed Beomgyu, curled up on the bed, a world of longing etched into his eyes.

She sat beside him, offering a tender smile. "What's on your mind, my love?"

His gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon outside the window as he whispered, "I miss home, Mom. I miss Y/N, and I miss everything."

Her heart ached for him. Placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, she said, "Change is hard, Beomgyu. I know it feels like everything's different now, but you're strong, and we'll get through this together. Dinner is waiting, but if you need some time, I understand."

His mother's understanding touch was a balm to his soul. Beomgyu turned to her, the vulnerability in his eyes reflecting the depth of his homesickness. "I just wish things could go back to how they were."

She pulled him into a warm embrace, whispering words of comfort. "I know, sweetheart. I know. Let's take it one day at a time, and who knows, maybe one day it will feel like home here too."

With a gentle squeeze, she left the room, allowing Beomgyu a moment to collect himself. The dinner table downstairs awaited, but in that fleeting moment, the warmth of his mother's embrace offered a comforting reassurance in the face of the unfamiliar world that now surrounded him.

-- years later, y/n's pov --

The years rolled by, carrying Beomgyu and Y/N into the realm of adolescence. In the beginning, the smartphones they now possessed became the conduits of their connection, trading messages filled with nostalgia, sharing snippets of their evolving lives. The threads of shared memories were woven into the digital conversations, creating a semblance of the camaraderie they once knew.

However, the inevitable currents of change started to pull them in different directions. New friendships blossomed, and the demands of their individual lives grew, leaving less room for the virtual bridge that once connected them. The exchanges became sporadic, a casual update here and there, their lives gradually filling with new faces and experiences.

Busy schedules and the excitement of forging fresh connections took precedence, and the once vibrant bond between Beomgyu and Y/N began to fray. The messages, once filled with the intimacy of shared memories, became sporadic echoes in a digital landscape that stretched between them.

As the years unfurled, the digital bridge that once connected them morphed into a mere echo of the past. The cadence of their lives, now pulsating with the rhythms of adulthood, left less space for the nostalgic conversations that once fueled their friendship. The bond, though not forgotten, transformed into a distant echo, fading in the background of the bustling lives they now led.

Y/N found herself standing on the precipice of an emotional crossroads. The once inseparable bond she shared with Beomgyu had become a delicate thread, and she desperately tried to hold on to the fragments of what they used to be. The shared laughter, the whispered secrets, and the warmth of their friendship seemed like distant echoes, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand.

"You and me were so, so close," she whispered to the quiet confines of her room, the weight of the words echoing in the silence. The ache of the growing distance between them pierced through her heart, a poignant reminder of what once was.

She had tried, oh, how she had tried. Late-night texts and calls filled with the essence of nostalgia were her attempts to salvage the connection that meant so much. But the responses were intermittent, the vibrancy of their conversations replaced by the echoes of unspoken distance.

And maybe that's what hurt the most—the realization that despite her efforts, the bond was slipping away. The fear she had harbored for years was materializing, and the once vivid landscape of their friendship was now a fading canvas.

"It's out of my hands," she admitted with a heavy sigh, as if confessing the truth to herself. The currents of life had taken them in different directions, and there was only so much she could do to alter the course.

"I've done what I can," she whispered, the weight of acceptance settling on her shoulders. The battle against the growing distance felt like an uphill struggle, leaving her with a sense of helplessness.

"So I just save my breath," she concluded, the resolve to hold on giving way to a bittersweet acknowledgment. The breaths she once saved for laughter, secrets, and shared dreams were now exhaled into the void of the changing winds. Yet, amidst the melancholy, a glimmer of gratitude remained—a gratitude for the moments they once shared and the indelible mark Beomgyu had left on her heart.

-- beomgyu's pov --

Beomgyu's phone buzzed once again, signaling another message from Y/N. He retrieved it from his pocket, eyes briefly flickering over the notification. The number of unread messages had reached a daunting 20, each one representing a fragment of a connection he once cherished.

Sighing, he pocketed the phone, the weight of the unread messages settling into the fabric of his jeans. The conversations with his new friends resumed, laughter and banter flowing effortlessly. Soobin, Yeonjun, Huening Kai, and Taehyun became the focal points of his attention, their camaraderie echoing the dynamics he had found within this new circle.

Yet, beneath the surface, there lingered a subtle pang of guilt. He couldn't shake the awareness that Y/N's messages remained unanswered, a stark testament to the growing gap between them. The bond that once defined his world had become a distant memory, replaced by the vibrant energy of his current friendships.

As Beomgyu laughed and shared stories with his newfound companions, the buzzing phone in his pocket seemed to carry the echoes of a connection slipping away. The unread messages represented unspoken sentiments, a conversation that had faded into the background of the bustling life he now led. And with each passing moment, the distance grew, leaving Y/N's messages unanswered in the wake of the evolving chapters of Beomgyu's life.

The laughter of Beomgyu and his friends echoed through the room as they gathered for a casual hangout. Soobin, Yeonjun, Huening Kai, and Taehyun were all there, their camaraderie filling the space with warmth. However, beneath the surface of the banter, Beomgyu carried the weight of unspoken concerns that had been haunting him.

"So, guys," Beomgyu began hesitantly, a hint of vulnerability in his tone. "There's been something on my mind lately."

The room fell into a comfortable silence as his friends turned their attention to him, their expressions shifting from playful to attentive.

"What's up, Beomgyu?" Soobin asked, concern evident in his eyes.

Beomgyu took a moment before continuing, "It's just… I've been feeling kind of guilty about not keeping in touch with someone important to me. We used to be really close, but life happened, and now it's like we're drifting apart."

Yeonjun chimed in, "Is it someone from back home? Your childhood friend?"

Beomgyu nodded, grateful for the understanding in his friends' eyes. "Yeah, Y/N. We were inseparable, but now it feels like we're worlds apart. I've been avoiding their messages, and it's been bothering me."

Huening Kai leaned forward, offering a comforting smile. "It happens, Beomgyu. People change, and life takes us in different directions. It's natural to feel conflicted about it."

Taehyun added, "Maybe you should talk to them about it. It might help clear the air, and who knows, you might find a way to reconnect."

Soobin nodded in agreement. "Communication is key. If they mean a lot to you, they'll understand. And if not, at least you'll have closure."

Beomgyu sighed, a mix of gratitude and apprehension in his expression. "You guys are right. I've just been struggling with how to approach it. I don't want to hurt them or make things awkward."

Yeonjun placed a reassuring hand on Beomgyu's shoulder. "Take your time, but don't let it eat at you. True friends understand, and if they're meant to be in your life, they'll find their way back."

The room fell into a thoughtful silence as Beomgyu absorbed the advice of his friends. The weight on his shoulders felt a bit lighter, knowing he had a support system to lean on. As they continued their hangout, the unspoken understanding between the friends became a source of comfort in navigating the complexities of evolving relationships.

In the quiet hours of the night, Beomgyu found himself alone with his thoughts. The conversation with his friends lingered in his mind, urging him to confront the unease that had been haunting him. With a mix of determination and trepidation, he decided to reach out to Y/N.

He pulled out his phone, fingers hovering over the touchscreen. After a moment's hesitation, he dialed Y/N's number, memories of their countless conversations flooding back. As the dial tone resonated, his heart raced with anticipation.

However, instead of the familiar voice he hoped to hear, an automated system responded. "The number you have dialed is no longer in service."

A wave of disappointment and realization washed over Beomgyu. The connection, once a lifeline between them, had dissolved into the void of disconnected lines. The reality of the situation hit him harder than he expected, and he felt a lump forming in his throat.

He stared at the screen, grappling with the finality of the automated message. The untold words he had been holding back seemed to echo in the silence of the room. Beomgyu was left with the weight of unspoken conversations and the stark reality that the bridge connecting them had crumbled.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, the phone still in his hand. The ache of missed opportunities and lingering questions lingered in the air. In that solitary moment, Beomgyu found himself grappling with the bittersweet truth — that some connections, no matter how meaningful, were destined to fade into the echoes of what once was.

-- y/n's pov --

Deep in my heart, I felt the subtle ache of something irretrievable. The bond that once defined Beomgyu and me seemed to have reached its twilight, leaving behind an unspoken void. His number, once etched into the fabric of my contacts, now felt like a distant memory, and with a heavy heart, I decided to let go.

I knew that it's over, the unspoken chapters of our friendship sealed within the folds of time. The laughter, the shared secrets, and the camaraderie we once held dear now echoed in the corridors of nostalgia.

Deleted your number – a choice made with the reluctant acceptance that some connections were destined to dissolve. The mere absence of those digits felt like erasing a chapter of my history, a chapter that held the echoes of a friendship now lost in the folds of growing up.

So I can't call you, I thought, acknowledging the deliberate choice to distance myself. The yearning for the conversations that once filled the nights lingered, but the awareness that those calls had become echoes of a bygone era weighed heavily on my heart.

As the chapters turned, I couldn't help but wonder how we arrived at this point. The unspoken words hung in the air, carrying the weight of a friendship that had silently evolved into something unrecognizable. And as I navigated the complexities of growing up, the bittersweet realization settled in – some connections, no matter how cherished, were destined to evolve into wistful memories.

-- years later --

At the age of 22, Beomgyu and Y/N found themselves engulfed in the currents of life, their paths diverging with each passing day. The once inseparable bond that defined their younger years had become a distant memory, fading into the background of their individual journeys.

Life's demands, new friendships, and evolving priorities led them in directions that seemed worlds apart. The sporadic messages that once bridged the growing distance had become echoes in the expanse that now lay between them. The phone numbers, once etched into each other's contacts with familiarity, were now just digits in a sea of connections.

Beomgyu navigated the bustling waves of adulthood, his focus on the present and future. The laughter and camaraderie of his new friends became the soundtrack of his days, the memories of childhood adventures and shared secrets relegated to the recesses of nostalgia.

Y/N, too, carved their own path, facing the challenges and triumphs that adulthood presented. The places, faces, and experiences that defined their current lives seemed far removed from the shared landscapes of their past.

--

Y/N found themselves wandering through familiar streets, the city lights casting a glow on the pavement. The purpose of their visit was business, but amidst the meetings and obligations, a sudden wave of nostalgia led them to stroll through the old neighborhood where Beomgyu and they once shared countless memories.

On one of those down-time nights after work, Y/N decided to explore a local spot known for its charm. As they entered the venue, the familiar ambiance felt like a subtle echo from the past. And then, amidst the crowd, Y/N's eyes caught a glimpse of a figure that seemed vaguely familiar.

Squinting through the dim lights, trying to place the face. The realization struck, and a subtle gasp escaped their lips. There, in the midst of the crowd, was Beomgyu – someone they once knew so intimately but now felt like a stranger.

"I didn't even recognize you," Y/N admitted quietly, the passage of time etched on Beomgyu's features. The realization brought a strange mix of emotions – surprise, nostalgia, and an unspoken acknowledgment of the changes life had wrought upon them.

The atmosphere felt charged with the weight of unexpected encounters. Y/N couldn't help but find it kind of strange – the twist of fate that brought them to the same place at the same time, after years of drifting apart.

"Guess that people change," Y/N murmured, watching Beomgyu from a distance. The recognition was met with a pang of melancholy, a subtle mourning for the innocence of the past.

"But I didn't expect you to," they concluded, a quiet lament for the evolution of a connection that once felt unbreakable. In that moment, amidst the city lights and the gentle hum of the crowd, Y/N grappled with the unspoken complexity of seeing someone from their past in a new light.

Peeling her eyes away from Beomgyu, Y/N decided to immerse herself in the present moment, determined to enjoy her time in the city. As she glanced around, she noticed a friendly face beside her, and without hesitation, struck up a conversation with the person seated next to her – Taehyun.

Unbeknownst to both Y/N and Taehyun, the threads of their conversation began to weave together seamlessly. They laughed, shared stories, and delved into topics that transcended the boundaries of the past. It was a delightful encounter, the kind that happens serendipitously in the dance of city life.

Meanwhile, Beomgyu, scanning the room in search of Taehyun, couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation. When his eyes finally landed on them, shock flickered across his face. He saw Y/N engaged in a lively conversation with Taehyun, a person he least expected her to be with.

For a moment, Beomgyu stood frozen, the realization sinking in. The person Y/N was conversing with wasn't just a stranger in this city; it was Taehyun, his friend. The friend who, unbeknownst to both of them, had become a part of this unexpected reunion.

The air crackled with unspoken emotions as Beomgyu navigated the currents of surprise and curiosity. His mind raced, contemplating whether he should approach and reveal the unspoken connections that lingered in the shadows of their past.

-- the next day --

The following day brought another unexpected encounter as Y/N found themselves in the same professional sphere as Beomgyu. Their respective companies were connecting, intertwining their professional worlds in a way that seemed almost fated. As the meetings progressed, the air buzzed with a tension that transcended the confines of business discussions.

Amidst the corporate chatter, Y/N and Beomgyu found themselves in the same room once again. The air was thick with unspoken history, the echoes of their past converging with the realities of the present. As the formalities of business unfolded, they eventually found a moment to step aside and talk, the weight of unspoken conversations hanging in the air.

"Tryna get in touch with you," Y/N began, their tone carrying a mix of frustration and longing. "I don't know where you've been."

Beomgyu met their gaze, a flicker of recognition in his eyes, as if acknowledging the echoes of missed connections.

"Have a conversation, but you'll never let me in," Y/N continued, a raw honesty punctuating their words. The years of distance and unspoken sentiments were etched into the lines of their expression.

"I've tried with you a thousand times," Y/N confessed, the weight of the past hanging between them like a heavy curtain. The frustration of unanswered messages and unspoken sentiments colored their words.

"Maybe I don't have to play the bad guy in the end," Y/N reflected, a plea for understanding. "Because I've been trying hard enough to be a better friend."

The room fell into a heavy silence, the unspoken tension hanging between them like a fragile thread. Y/N's words lingered, a poignant acknowledgment of the attempts to bridge the gap that had grown over the years. The business connections may have brought them together, but the weight of unresolved emotions hovered in the air, leaving them standing at the crossroads of what once was and what could never be again.

Beomgyu listened to Y/N's words, a knot forming in his stomach as the weight of their shared history became palpable. When Y/N finally paused, he took a moment before responding, his voice carrying a mix of regret and sincerity.

"I know," Beomgyu admitted, the weight of unspoken apologies echoing in his words. "I've been avoiding things, and I'm sorry for that. Life got complicated, and I let it push us apart."

Y/N met his gaze, a flicker of understanding mingling with the frustration. "I've tried reaching out, but it felt like you'd built walls. I didn't know where to find you anymore."

Beomgyu sighed, a heavy exhale of acknowledgment. "I messed up, and I should've been more open. It's just… things changed, and I didn't handle it well."

The air between them held a tense quiet, the unspoken words lingering in the space. Beomgyu gathered the courage to speak again. "Maybe we can't undo the past, but I want to try to make things right now. I want to be a better friend, Y/N."

As the weight of their shared history hung in the air, the conversation unfolded, carrying with it the potential for understanding, forgiveness, and the possibility of rebuilding a connection that had once been an integral part of their lives.

Beomgyu, sensing Y/N's reluctance, took a breath before speaking, determined to convey the sincerity behind his words.

"You don't know me like you used to," he acknowledged, recognizing the layers of time that had altered the familiarity they once shared. "You can leave, but I refuse to."

He saw the skepticism in Y/N's eyes, a lingering doubt that hung between them. Beomgyu continued, his voice steady, "You can tell me that I'm crazy, but I won't stop."

He could sense the hesitancy, the wariness in Y/N's posture. "And this won't make me," he added, the unspoken commitment to rekindle the connection they once had. "I know things have changed, and I can't erase the past, but I'm willing to try. We can navigate this together, Y/N, and maybe find a way back to what we once had."

The sincerity in Beomgyu's words hung in the air, a plea for a second chance, a chance to rebuild and redefine the connection that had slipped away over the years. The ball was in Y/N's court, and Beomgyu awaited their response with a mix of hope and determination.

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Origin of Hangman

Summary: Hangman contemplates his own personal meaning behind his callsign.

Word Count: 1.3k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Mentions of Past Iceman / Mitchell!Sister!OC; Mentions of Death; References to Car Accidents; Guilt; Mourning; Loss of a Parent; References to Therapy; References to Mental Health Issues; Mentions of Blood; Crippling Self-Loathing; ANGST

A.N. Set during TGM (after Beach Scene)

This is probably the darkest piece that I’ve published on here FYI. If death and dark thoughts are triggering to you, DON’T READ THIS! You have been warned!

Last day of October, so I thought I would sneak this in for Whumptober vibes even though it doesn’t fit a specific prompt.

Master List

It always seemed fitting to Jake how his callsign was synonymous with ‘killer.’

After his first air-to-air, all anyone could talk about was how great of a pilot he was. How he had perfect aim and not a lick of fear in his system. But all Jake saw in the mirror was a man desperate to rub the blood off his hands, as if the blood of innocent people hadn’t stained his skin since he was a child. As if he could even remember a time when there wasn’t blood on his hands.

The second that his callsign was announced, he was suddenly brought back to all those therapy sessions that his dad set up for him when he was a kid. And then for the first few weeks of his life as ‘Hangman,’ every time that he heard his callsign, it was like the ghost of his mom popped up and slapped him across the face over and over again.

And Jake didn’t talk about his mom.

Not with his dad. Not with his uncle. Not with Javy. Definitely not with Bradley. Not with anyone.

The subject was simply too sensitive, too personal, and too overwhelming to talk about without some kind of illicit substance in his system. The last time that he really sat down and talked in depth about his mom was in therapy when he was probably fourteen or so. Every time someone tried to bring up the subject, he shut it down. He always just shut down.

He’d been over it a thousand times with Dr. John and his dad sat him down a number of times over his childhood, but it never fully clicked in Jake’s head. Or maybe he simply didn’t want it to stick. For whatever reason, he always looped around to the idea that it was his fault. It was all his fault.

His mom was dead because of him. He had her blood on his hands.

And he knew that it was ridiculous. How was he supposed to know that the night would go like that? It was supposed to be day of celebration, not a day of tragedy. And it wasn’t like he could have changed what happened in the moment. He was asleep in the backseat when it happened.

But those thoughts were still there, tucked in the back of his mind, and popping up at the most inopportune times in his life. The ones where he heard his dad and his uncle and his Aunt Carole and even his mom herself yell those three words at him.

It’s your fault.

And he believed them. Every time.

Maybe it was one of the Mitchell traits he inherited from his mom—the need to turn oneself into Atlas. The one to bear everyone else’s burdens. Ice mourned Jake’s mom, Jake knew. There’s a photo of his father standing at the funeral that would haunt Jake for years. It was the expression of a man who had broken into a thousand pieces the night before and barely glued them back together in time.

But Ice moved on. He found happiness again. He lived his life.

But Maverick coped in a way similar to Jake. There were photos of Jake’s mom all around Maverick’s hangar and throughout his personal belongings. Maverick gave Jake plenty of mementos of his mom, little pieces of her to keep with him for when he needed them.

But the clearest difference was on Jake’s birthday.

On Jake’s birthdays after the accident, when Ice was home, it was like a normal child’s birthday. There was cake with candles, there was singing, there were presents. Jake didn’t want them, but he went along with it to keep his dad happy. After all, if he was successfully lying to his therapists, he could successfully lie to his dad too.

But the birthdays where Ice was gone and it was just Maverick, there wasn’t much of anything. Maverick would take him for a long drive or a long flight, most of which was silent. They would have dinner at a restaurant and then there was a simple cupcake with a singular candle. And that was it. No singing, no presents, no excess. It happened and then they moved on. End of story.

Because no matter how many times he sat down with his therapist or his dad and talked it over, it never left his mind that his birthday and the anniversary of his mom’s death were the same day. And they would continue to be. Forever.

“You have a tattoo?” Phoenix asked, breaking Hangman out of his deep thoughts.

He turned to spot Phoenix behind him, casually sipping on a beer like the rest of the Dagger Squad—save for Bob, anyways—were on the sand. They had just wrapped up a long day of beach football and were all content to simple sit and watch the waves. And it was that serenity that seemed to pull Jake into that part of his mind that he tried to keep under lock and key at all times.

“Yeah,” Jake replied, subconsciously reaching for it.

Between his shoulder blades and below the traditional shirt neckline were two simple wings that somewhat resembled the Top Gun symbol over his mother’s name, which was written in her own handwriting that he salvaged from some letters that she wrote to his dad.

He got it done when he was eighteen. On his birthday, actually. That was one of the years when Ice wasn’t home. Maverick took him and didn’t ask questions. Not before. Not during. And not after. Ice didn’t find out about the tattoo until about eight months later and when he saw it for the first time, he simply pulled Jake in for a tight hug before excusing himself for a moment.

“And that’s the only question that I’m answering about it.”

Getting up from his seat, Jake muttered something as an excuse before leaving the beach on his own. Rooster and Javy were the only two people in the group who knew the meaning behind the tattoo and it was going to stay that way.

Because Jake didn’t talk about his mom.

Phoenix looked confused at how a single harmless question had gotten Jake into such a state, but the look on Javy’s face told her that she wasn’t going to get any answers. So, the rest of the Daggers simply bid goodbye to Jake, who carried on as if he didn’t hear them. Reaching his truck, Jake pulled his shirt back over his head and started to prepare to drive out when Maverick came walking over.

“You going home?” Maverick asked Jake, who did not respond verbally. After a moment, Maverick nodded and added, “Give her my love.”

“I will,” Jake stated softly before starting the truck.

Picking up the brightest flowers available from the grocery store on the way, Jake gripped the steering wheel tightly. When he came to a stop light, Jake glanced down at the bright yellow flowers he bought. His dad told him that his mom always insisted that he had to buy bright and fun flowers. Nothing serious like roses or too dark, lest someone think they were for a funeral.

Parking along the cemetery road, Jake walked down the aisle of green grass before pausing at a simple gray stone that had ‘Kazansky’ carved into it. His mother’s first name laid below it with the phrase ‘Loving Mother, Wife, and Sister.’ And then her date of birth and date of death, which was also Jake’s fourth birthday.

Jake tidied up around his mother’s grave before placing the bright yellow flowers down beside the longstanding photo of the family of three—Ice, her, and Jake. It was taken three months before his mother’s death. There was also a toy F-18 that Maverick left there a long time ago that seemed to be integral to the set up now.

He sat down, but did not say a word.

Because Jake did not discuss his mom. Not even with her.

[goldensunset]

What's your opinion on Nomura saying he wants KH4 to be kind of like a reboot of the series? I'm personally a bit worried about what that means for the graphics and gameplay, but like, I'm probably always going to be mourning the loss of the old modeling style so I don't think I should be taken seriously on that front. Graphics change aside, it seems like most of the information we've gotten on KH4 boils down to "Yes it's in Tokyo" and "Guys it's not gonna be a crossover with TWEWY, Please Stop Asking". Really not sure what to make of it so far.

i really have no clue what he means by that... honestly i'm fine with the new style although i do see the concerns with kinda making it seem more generically anime prettyboy final fantasy-esque but like. we've only seen two characters so far and that was two and a half years ago and we already know they're planning on changing some things so who knows what the final product will look like. idk.

my one concern- and i say this as someone who personally likes simpler and more realistic designs, as well as like serious hardcore worldbuilding and dark stuff- is that kh will lose its weird, goofy, disney positivity charm. sora's design just needs slightly more color to it, nothing too drastic. the city of quadratum being hyperrealistic in a direct jarring contrast to everything else we've ever seen in the series is SO cool i just hope the final version has some unique charm to it. obviously i hope it's still kinda bleak bc i think that's the point of the story here but y'know? i hope they tell the story they're trying to tell while also making it feel magical in some way

see while i can't say i personally have any interest in the disney aspect of things (i understand that's what the series was supposed to be all along but me personally i'm in it for the original story side of things) i also never want kh to totally leave that dimension. i think they need to get better at implementing it into the story- akin to how it originally was in the first game, or in khdr, bc both of those were amazing. like prove to me that this disney crossover is the best way to tell your story bc i know you can do it. it shouldn't feel like two separate games, one of which can be entirely filtered out with almost no bearing on the plot

the other thing is like the collaboration with disney is a limitation- but it's a limitation that breeds creativity. if we let nomura do whatever he wanted he might run off the rails and make it too gritty. but having to keep the family-friendly positivity at the core honestly makes it way more interesting imo. and i think he knows that- i think he has a heartfelt story about connection and humanity and love and memories etc to tell and he's gonna tell it. i have faith in him (maybe not faith to write every single game's dialogue and scenario lol but like. in terms of general plot direction he knows what he's doing)

truthfully, as long as the series never stops being ultimately an uplifting tale of hope? i don't care what they do with it. i hope they keep adding dark and serious and weird stuff to it and i hope they keep coming back to the joyful refrain over and over again. that's the ideal story to me- one that takes you so, so low, but brings you back up at the end. that's what kh has been like all along and that's like the main draw imo

they've been leaning more into the possibility of sad endings without perfect resolutions lately (i mean i truthfully don't see how the khux crew is gonna reunite on this mortal plane without more ghost shenanigans.) but like. a bittersweet ending of fondly remembering someone lost to you is incredibly heartfelt and you can make peace with that. i like that more than the idea that you'll always get everything you want and things can always go back to how they were. i think that's what nomura was getting at with kh3, how the destiny trio can't get their innocent childhood back but that doesn't mean their bond is gone. it doesn't have to be a classic disney fairytale ending to be an uplifting one and honestly it hits my HEART. bittersweet ending supremacy. kh is about losing things and finding new things and being connected etc etc i'm repeating myself but i'm insane about this series and long story short as long as the love is there i'm not going to complain

if we're talking about kh4 specifically? really no idea what to make of it... the big question is as follows- is sora's predicament going to be resolved in this game or is that for another game. if it's for another game it's going to have to be a numerical kh5 and i kind of don't have confidence in the team to uh. um. finish more than one new numerical game at this point lol. plus just assuming there would be a gap period with other games in the middle there then sora would be away from home for a lonnnnng time. it could happen but it would require his best friends to reach him there too and get stuck and like oh man how is anyone getting home now. is the series ever gonna end

like maybe kh4 being a reboot would quite genuinely mean shifting the entire overall setting of the series to unreality for the time being. we've discussed the nature of the heart and human connection in this whimsical childhood fairytale world, now let's put these philosophical debates in the real adult world now! who knows. it honestly all depends on how much nomura thinks he has left in him. or if he does plan to retire whether he's gonna pass it off to someone else or just end it somewhere randomly. like truly we're getting kinda mixed messages here like simultaneously he's talking about retiring someday while also saying he's introducing a new phase to the series. ok but how long will that phase be bestie

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Robin is my beloved song because there’s so much tenderness wrapped up in the need to allow a child to stay a child as long as possible (something we are terrible at in this world). And then to put it on her Denial playlist because we just suck at letting kids stay young? Just never leave me beautiful song with a stunning bridge full of love and tenderness.

Yeeeeeeeeessssssssss.

I've talked about this before I think, but "Never Grow Up" is a song that's always been gut-wrenching to me, because on the surface it's this sweet lullaby to a friend's baby, but the lyrics are actually a reflection of all the pain she's been through, and the undercurrent of the innocence she feels she lost (or was taken from her). She's mourning a part of herself and mourning for the future (e.g. the things she's going to lose like her parents, fleeting experiences, happiness, etc.) which makes even more sense in the context of Would've, Could've, Should've.

So Robin is kind of in that same vein, even if it's approached from a different way. It's a touching tribute to a friend's child and the love she feels for them. How she and all the adults in their life work their damnedest to preserve their innocence and make that childhood possible and make it last as long as possible. It's full of all the specific details that are a trademark of her writing -- playing with dinosaurs covered in mud, the dragonflies over the bed, the swingset, the trampoline, etc. -- but paint the picture of childhood being experienced to its fullest, in sweetness.

Yet there's still the undercurrent of her older self hiding the pain through this love letter to the child: we all vowed to keep the secret from you (because we all know that life will not be this idyllic for you for long), you have no time for regrets (like you'll have as an adult like I do), you talk nonsense from your imagination because you have no idea (what life will have in store for you and how life may try to curb your lust for life), etc. And much like how part of Never Grow Up's poignancy is how it is contextualized by other parts of Speak Now (namely Dear John, Haunted, Last Kiss, etc.), Robin is also contextualized by other parts of TTPD (the heartbreak, the loss, the anger, the defeat). She wants this child to experience the joys of life as long as they can before the realities of life gradually carve off their wide-eyed innocence.

So it makes perfect sense why it's on the Denial playlist, like you said: it's because we strive to make the childhoods of our loved ones as magical as possible, even if it involves a little deception to get there. (Just think about how those who celebrate keep the Santa mystery going as long as they can; it's not to deliberately lie to kids, but to let them believe in the magic of the story to create memories.) I could probably make a link between the "secret" she helps to perpetuate for the child in Robin and the stories she told herself to keep the dreams alive in her head from her other experiences on the album, hence Denial. But. That's probably another post lol.

The song is SO tender and so loving and grabbed me from first listen. I've said it before, I'm not much of a crier until I have a breakdown (because I'm dead inside lmao) but Robin is one of the closest times I've come. And like many of her other songs it feels so cinematic to me, like I could picture the child running in the mud and pumping their legs on a swing and roaring through the yard in 24 fps and lens flares lol.

[aeligsido]

[WM] Prompt 22 — Grief/Mourning.

Rating: T.

TW: character deaths.

Characters: Remus Lupin, Sirius Black.

Additional Tags: first war against Voldemort, second war against Voldemort, angst, Hurt/not really comfort, Paula and Alex are my OCs don’t worry about them, established relationship.

Summary: Remus grew up used to grief.

Words count: 395.

A/N: I don’t control the words, the words control me. Hope you enjoy ❤️

@wolfstarmicrofic

—

Remus has spent most of his life grieving. His innocence and his childhood and his parents’ comfort and a normal, happy life first; Hogwarts has been a chaos of joy and mourning, of enjoying the present and dreading the future, of clinging to his friends and fearing their leave; and then, the war, and the terrifying darkness of the world — not the one against himself he grew accustomed to, but the ones against his friends and family and love he can’t accept.

And the deaths. Oh, the deaths, terrible and heartbreaking and consuming every bit of happiness out of his soul with each new one, with each report, with each empty seat. And then it’s personal, and then it’s Paula and Fabian and Marlene and Alex and Dorcas.

And then it’s James and Lily. And then it’s Peter.

And then it’s Sirius, his boyfriend and best friend and love of his life and traitor, selling them, killing them, dealing the last word and the last blow, and destroying the world where it stands.

And Remus grieves, grieves, grieves, like he has always been taught to do. He grieves for the dead. He grieves for the living; for Harry and Neville and Alice and Frank and Mary — and perhaps a bit for himself, too.

He grieves what have been and their hopes and their dreams and their laughs and their cries and their lives and their deaths, and he carries them on his shoulders and in his pockets and in his words and in his silences and in his eyes and in his smiles and in every breath he takes and in every breath he gives.

And, shamefully, he grieves Sirius; he grieves the man he was, the man he loved, the man he still loves. He grieves quiet moments together and cold arguments and heated passion and everything that has been them; and he misses it, him, with everything he has and everything he is, and he hates himself for it.

(He grieves the loss of twelve years to loneliness and tears and false innocence of an once-friend; he grieves what could have been, and loves still.)

(And then, he grieves their second chance, and the new death added to his shoulders and pockets and words and silences and eyes and smiles and breath.)

(Remus grew up in grief, and he’ll die in it, too.)

[grave-queen-jakrabitt]

How wrestling taught me something important

Okay, I want to let you all know right now this is going to talk about some pretty bad people, I’ll explain as we go along but I want to warn you now. We are living in a time where it seems like we’re just expecting our childhood heroes to end up being horrible people and it fucking sucks, so if you’d let me I’d like to teach you a lesson I was taught a while ago using wrestling for examples.

As my starting point with writing was the old smackdown vs raw games I became aquatinted with Chris Benoit and then I began to look at his WCW and new Japan work. And then I learned about 2007, if you don’t know what happened just look it up. One of the biggest debates in the wrestling community I remember for a while was if Benoit was innocent, but now I genuinely don’t think it matters. What can be done? Who could do anything? But even after learning what happened, I still find inspiration from his work. That somewhat leads to the example I have.

Jimmy havoc is undoubtedly a piece of shit and the speaking out movement was a good thing for wrestling. Fuck him and everything he stands for, that being said I’ve also been binge watching progress wrestling and jimmy is heavily tied to its early days. I got really invested in his arc from chapter 2 to regression to teaming with mark Haskins even knowing what I know now. Because that’s what got me hooked on progress. How do I feel comfortable with that? The company cut ties with him so he’s not being supported and that’s the key thing to remember

You don’t condone the now, you miss the then. Feel no shame for mourning the loss but do not try to carry the corpse of then because you will only empower the now

Have your heroes, hold them close, but be ready for them to die