#my mom understanding the tragedy of that was devastating

[krogerkryptid]

Thinking about when rewatching the first episode of the PJO show with my mom she asked “why is she in the rain” for the scene of Sally on the fire escape and then her softly gasping and tapping my arm and going “the water it’s to be closer to the water” IM SICK IM INSANE MOTHER WTF WTF actually insane of her to say that to me bye

[the-badger-mole]

is sokka viewing katara as a mother figure, or ‘replacement’ for kya, out of character? (replacement is a bad word but i can’t think of another word that would be appropriate)

Sokka contributing to Katara's parentification is not only in character, it's very true to life. The oldest daughter (or in this case only daughter) whether or not she's actually the oldest child, often has to stand in place of her mother, even if her mother isn't dead. It's really common in BIPOC families, but I think it's an almost universal experience at some level (the girl is always seen as so mature, and therefore has more responsibilities at an early age than her brother, cousins, etc.). It's such an insightful addition the story, in fact, I would bet my mortgage that Bryke did it accidentally. Katara's motherly nature was either played for laughs, or meant to show why Aang liked her, so obviously they didn't understand what it was they'd stumbled upon (and is also the reason why Kataang was an absolutely terrible ending for Katara).

Even the scene where Sokka is explaining to Zuko what happened to their mom, the tragedy of how much she had been forced to take on at such a young age, and what replacing Kya for Sokka meant for her wasn't really touched on. Yes, he acknowledges that their mother's death was more traumatic for Katara than him (completely understandable, btw. For a lot of reasons), but he never acknowledges how unfair it was for her- his LITTLE SISTER- to have to take on a motherly role for Sokka. Really think about what that entailed. It's not just that she did his laundry or cooked for him. For Katara to be who he pictures when he thinks of his mom, she had to take on not only her mother's share of the chores, she had to do so much emotional labor for her brother, starting at age 8, and maybe even sooner. It's entirely possible she had been being prepared for that role since before Kya's death.

Side note: This is also why I don't completely accept the headcanon that there was no sexism in the SWT. It wasn't as rigid as the NWT, sure, but it clearly still existed in some form. Had the SWT not been devastated and decimated by the Fire Nation, would Katara- would any woman, for that matter- have been allowed to learn combat waterbending? I have my doubts.

[sukinapan]

teenage edgy atheist me would be SO mad at me being into religious symbols and concepts now lmao

i've been thinking a lot about how religion affected me deeply despite my family never being particularly insistent on it... like most people in my circles, i grew up as watered-down catholic. nobody was going to church or reading the bible, but we'd go to people's babies' baptisms, I'd chant a guardian angel prayer my grandma taught me every night, and despite my school being secular, we had an optional "religion" (catholic) period in elementary which most of our parents signed us up for.

i've heard horror stories from people who went to actually religious schools, run by nuns or priests, but this was different. my impression is that the school system never took this religion class too seriously, so there wasn't really a specific curriculum to be followed. the teachers would rotate constantly, and there was 0 consistency to the kind of activities we did. we'd dance and sing songs and play games, and then a teacher would pull a written test out of nowhere. the result being i was never properly explained the basics of it.

i was born catholic by default so i had to somehow know what a sin was already (the word sin in spanish sounds almost like "fish": pecado and pescado, so i spent YEARS believing "sinner" was some sort of fisherman metaphor), i never understood what use jesus's death had or why pilatus "washed his hands". i knew adam and eve were not supposed to be taken as real but then why was the rest of the bible? i was immersed into this strange lore that i couldn't make sense of and nobody was interested in explaining it in detail.

the only devout person i knew was my grandma. she was never the hateful discourse type nor did she go around spouting lore that would help me understand. like many women she was just very devoted to a benevolent god and to the virgin mary as a mother figure (i remember a prayer saying "mary, mother of god" and i was confused af since hadn't god created her?).

i'm not entirely sure where my fear came from. i remember my mom just once or twice mentioning god, she was probably just annoyed at me, and said god was going to punish me for whatever i was doing. and i took that SO seriously. i'd also always assumed hell was some sort of temporary place where you just had to repent for a while. i mentioned it once in the car and my dad calmly clarified that no, hell was forever. i was devastated. i became convinced that i was somehow evil and used to picture a scene in my mind where a cartoonish devil would appear in my room at night to take me to hell with him.

i eventually grew out of this, thankfully. we had our first communion ritual through the school, i realized it made 0 sense to me and became an edgelord atheist at 11, to my poor grandma's dismay. but i think the fear and the guilt and this idea of being constantly watched and judged still traumatized me a little. years after i'd stopped believing, i continued to whisper "sorry" to the air after doing something wrong.

but my whole point with this, i guess, is that i've found a new appreciation for my experience with religion. i still have a poor opinion of most it, but there's many elements i'm starting to enjoy thinking about. especially the ones pertaining to latin american syncretism, like the focus on the mother figure amidst absent fathers (i guess you could say god is latam's absent father too), loved ones becoming angels that stay around and look out for you, or miracles sprouting from tragedy. i'm also very tormented by death and it's somehow so comforting to make art about it. i really look forward to continue using these elements in the future🧸ྀི໒꒱⋆

[qpacinho]

The First

Tw: Graphic depiction of the aftermath of suicide, child abandonment/neglect, and a child discovering a decaying corpse. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

This is a first draft. Just a bit of backstory, because it feels a little weird for Pac to end up at an orphange just because of a divorce. I sent snippets to my husband while writing this and it devastated him. So genuinely be warned!

-

Pac had been just a kid, hardly five when the world first tried to kill him. When everything came crashing down for the first time into a personal apocalypse, it had been Tuesday.

"Mae?" He'd asked when he'd woken up. A nightmare about her absence had been fresh on his mind. His mother had grown more distant since the divorce. She'd started working. Pac was alone most of the time. It was fine, because every night she still kissed his head and tucked him in to the single bed in their tiny house. It wasn't much, but everything was theirs. Even if her "I love you, Paccy"s had gotten strangely cold.

"Mamae?" He called, into the emptiness. Nothing greeted him but the buzzing of flies. How did so many flies get inside? Mom wasn't in bed. He couldn't ask. Pac had to wonder if his nightmare was real. He was too young to know better. He was too young to understand the weight and gravity of what was actually happening. But the situation gave him a correct, yet simpler, reaction. A sniffle. Hot saline pooling at his waterline. Tears gently falling in that way it did so easily when you experienced every emotion for the first time. Fear, loneliness, and confusion.

"Mamae!" He yells. He expects her to come running, but she doesn't. The End has begun. The real goodbye never came. Pac stumbles out of bed. He abandons the warm yellow sheets and walks around the wall into the tiny kitchen. Their old house had a bigger one.

Sometimes tragedy is little. Sometimes tragedy is big. Sometimes tragedy is both, at the same time. A simple understanding of a bigger horror. Pac’s mom was still inside the house... and things Pac couldn't comprehend had made a home in her. Something squirms in her neck. It is surrounded by soft serrated flesh and flakey crimson.

"Mamae? Tu-tudo bem?" He asks, voice shaking just as much as his trembling hands. Something was wrong with his mom because she didn't respond. She just laid on the floor, head in front of the fridge and feet near his. The window above her head cast rays of yellow sun in. A pool of dried something next to him. Something squirmed around in it. Pac didn't want to see what it was.

Pac crouched down beside his mom. He gently shook her foot. She didn't respond. He shook harder, his breathing picking up just as it had started to settle. She didn't move. Warm tears spilled down his cheeks as he realized how cold his mom was. "Mamae, please," he begged.

Was she sick? Was her neck not supposed to be like that? Were the squirming things in her flesh doing something to her? The color had drained out of her normally glowing and warm skin. Her dark complexion took on an ashy look. But Pac was five and he didn't know what that meant.

How could he, when she was the one meant to teach him things?

Maybe she was asleep. Maybe she was really sick and really asleep. Maybe... Pac feels dizzy as shaking her leg makes her torso shift and her neck stretches open more. The buzzing feels distant but so present that all Pac wants to do is run. One of the things falls out of her neck. Pac falls on his butt and scrambles back. It writhes on the floor with him. A mirror of his confusion and heartbreak.

Pac wants to hug her. He wants to pet her hair and tell her she'll feel better soon. She always did that for him. He wants to put bandaids on her neck and kiss it better. He wants to...

Pac launches forward and grabs onto both legs of her pajama pants. He shakes them as violently as he can. They're both too stiff and too loose. They feel like they flop more the harder he shakes.

The tears turn into violent, body shaking sobs. He curls in on himself. His hands scramble for purchase in his hair. His stomach lunches with the way his body is wrecked by his emotions. The flies are too loud. He himself is too loud. The sun shining through the window above her was too loud.

It was all too much.

And his throat is in agony by the time anyone shows up. Time is a blur and so are the neighbors. He's picked up off the floor and held tighter than he ever has been. "Keep your eyes closed," they whisper gently. "You're doing so good, Pac. You're gonna be okay."

The morning air is crisp in his burning lungs. He doesn't open his eyes, still. He wasn't told to. He isn’t told to for a while. It's the priest that finally does. The adults almost laugh about it. He's wrapped in mom's quilt. Tucked into a corner of the neighbor's much bigger front porch. On a tiny plastic chair. It was his chair when he visited them. It was... familiar.

The Father, who's name Pac always forgets because his mother never bothered to remember either, is on his knees beside Pac. He's taking a smaller hand in his much bigger one. It's Pac’s hand. The priest feels warm. He has a look on his face that Pac wants to trust, but he feels like a broken plate. He's worried he'll be yelled at for something. He flinches away and the priest looks... upset. Not mad, but...

Pac would later come to understand, looking at his broken body in a prison mirror, that the priest had been devastated.

[biggerbetterbat]

WITH YOU II | [4] PAYING THE HIGH COST OF LIVING

Daryl Dixon x oc!charlie reed

Summary: The group is led by new hope, just to understand that it was all an illusion. The group faces one more tragedy.

Warnings: death, dead bodies

Song:

Words: 2,564

Mom, dad, Finn, Luke, Will, Pete...

Living is strange.

...Amy, Jim, Jacquie, Sophia, Dale, Shane, Patricia...

Every step taken in this world is shadowed with danger, every decision weighed against the backdrop of uncertainty. There are moments when the weight of it all threatened to crush us, when the pain of loss becomes unbearable and the future seems bleak. In those moments, we are forced to confront our own mortality, to question whether the struggle is worth it.

...Jimmy, Lori, T-Dog, Oscar, Axel, Merle...

However dying is even more strange.

...Andrea, Zach, Patrick, Hershel, Mika, Lizzie, Bob...

Each loss leave behind a void, a silent ache that echo in the depths of the soul. Perhaps, death is simply a doorway—a passage from one existence to the next. The only way to escape the current reality with something greater waiting at the end. Or perhaps, death is the end—the final chapter in the book of life, with no sequel to follow. Perhaps there are no answers, no grand revelations waiting to be unveiled.

...Beth...

"It was secure. It has a wall, homes, 20 people. Beth wanted to go with him," Rick informed the group. "It's a long trip, but if it works out, it's the last long trip we have to make."

"What if nothing is there?" Charlie asked.

"Then we find another place," Rick looked into her eyes.

The world became cruel, drowning in blood and death. Amidst the ruins of civilization, nature had begun to reclaim its territory, weaving a tapestry of life amidst the chaos. As Charlie wandered through this newfound wilderness, she couldn't help but marvel at the resilience of nature. Despite the devastation brought by humanity, the earth had begun to heal itself, slowly but surely reclaiming what had been lost.

But it wasn't just the physical landscape that had changed; it was the very essence of nature itself. In the wake of the apocalypse, the boundaries between the natural world and the supernatural seemed to blur, as if the earth itself had become a living, breathing entity.

"When I was little and I was in my dad's car, there were always those stories on the radio. Something happens 1,000 miles away or down the block. Some kind of horror I couldn't even wrap my head around," Tyreese said. "But he didn't change the channel. He didn't turn it off. To face it. My dad used to all it paying the high cost of living."

"I lost my dad in Atlanta. Still got a mom and a couple of twin brother," confessed Noah. "I hope."

Charlie felt a pang of compassion as she watched Noah, recognizing the pain etched in every line of his face. She knew all too well the pain of losing someone dear, the ache that lingered long after the tears had dried. He was a good kid - still just a kid, who needed someone to rely on.

"I hope so, too," she said.

Noah turned to face her and see a bit better. Tyreese saw that, so he said: "Charlie lost her family in Atlanta, too."

Charlie felt a knot form in his stomach at the mention of his own family, a topic he had long avoided. She hopped that Noah wouldn't ask why or how, as she tried to escape the past. "I'm sorry."

"Mhm," Charlie nodded and dropped her eyes from the boy to the clock. "Two more miles," she said to Rick.

"We'll go on foot," Rick said as they left the car in the middle of nowhere. "Stay off the road."

As Charlie and her companions walked, they came upon a solemn reminder of the world they once knew—a skeleton, its bones picked clean by time and decay. But instead of a symbol of despair, it was a testament to nature's resilience, for upon the skeletal remains, vibrant flowers bloomed, their petals a vivid contrast to the stark white of bone.

Continuing on their journey, they encountered another curious sight—a network of wire spread between the trees like a spider's web, its purpose unclear. But as they came closer, they realized that it was a makeshift barrier, a feeble attempt to ward off unseen dangers lurking in the shadows.

Though the wire served as a stark reminder of the world they now inhabited—a world where survival meant constant vigilance, where danger lurked around every corner. Yet even in the face of adversity, there was a sense of solidarity, a shared determination to press onward despite the odds.

"They have spotters? Snipers?"

"We built a perch on a truck, Sometimes it's out front."

With each step, Charlie felt a sense of purpose stirring within her, a fire ignited by the trials they had overcome and the challenges that lay ahead. For though the path to Shirewilt was fraught with peril, it was also a journey of hope—a journey toward a brighter future, where life could flourish once more in the wake of devastation. As they approached the outskirts of Shirewilt, Noah's pace quickened, his footsteps echoing the rapid beating of his heart. His nerves were palpable, a potent mix of anticipation and fear as he neared the fabled gates of their destination.

Without a word, Noah broke into a run, his determination propelling him forward like a man possessed. The rest of the group exchanged glances, their own apprehension mirrored in their expressions, before following suit, their footsteps falling in line behind Noah's.

As they reached the gates, Noah skidded to a stop, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he surveyed the scene before him. The gates stood tall and imposing, a barrier between the outside world and the sanctuary within.

"You hear that?"

"Just wait," she said. Charlie took off her bow and a gun and handed it to Glenn, who took it without a question.

As Charlie began to climb the wall, her muscles tensed with each upward movement, her fingers gripping the rough surface with determination. With each foothold gained, she could feel the anticipation building within her, the promise of safety.

But as she reached the top and peered over the edge, her heart sank like a stone plunging into the depths. A wave of disappointment washed over Charlie, mingled with a profound sense of sorrow for Noah. She turned to look back at him, her eyes brimming with sadness as she took in his crestfallen expression. In that moment, she felt a pang of guilt, knowing that she had destroyed hope when all along the reality may have been far bleaker.

With a heavy heart, Charlie descended from the wall, her movements slow and deliberate as if weighed down by the weight of their shattered dreams.

With heavy hearts and a sense of resignation, the group ventured to the other side of the wall, their footsteps muted by the somber silence that hung in the air. Burnt-out buildings stood silent, their remains a grim reminder of the horrors that had befallen the city. Among the ruins, they encountered bodies lying motionless in the streets, their eyes staring sightlessly at the sky. Some were burned beyond recognition. As they cautiously made their way through the streets, they encountered another threat lurking in the shadows—walkers, their decaying forms drawn to the scent of the living.

"Noah, hold up,"Rick called the boy as he started running mindlessly. "Noah!"

Charlie felt a pang of sorrow as she watched Noah dropping to his knees, sobbing. Everyone knew that his old life was gone with the ashes, and that his family was most certainly gone. She knelt beside him, torn inside about what she should do. Maybe a pat in the back would be enough, as they barely knew each other. But her heart was moving faster than the brain, her arms reaching out to envelop him in a gentle embrace. At first, Noah tensed at her touch, his body rigid with the weight of his grief. But then, slowly, hesitantly, he allowed himself to lean into her embrace, his tears flowing freely as he sought solace in her presence.

"It's okay," she whispered. "You're one of us now."

"We can make a quick sweep," said Glenn looking at her.

"Charlie?" Rick asked.

"I'll stay with him," Tyreese said and placed a hand on her shoulder.

As Charlie walked through the remnants of lives left behind in Shirewilt, a sense of unease gnawed at her conscience. Each item she gathered felt like a silent accusation, a reminder of the lives that had been lost and the pain that lingered in their wake.

She couldn't shake the feeling of intrusion as she rifled through the belongings of those who had once called this place home. Every photograph, every trinket held a story—a memory of laughter and love, now tainted by the death. Beside her, Noah's somber expression mirrored her own conflicted emotions. She could see the pain in his features, the weight of grief bearing down upon him like a heavy burden.

As Rick's words washed over Charlie, a mixture of emotions swirled within her. There was a sense of sadness, a heavy weight pressing down on her chest as she grappled with the reality of their situation. Coming to Shirewilt had been for Beth, he didn't care about Noah - making Rick's admission was a bitter pill to swallow.

Glenn's agreement resonated with Charlie, a reminder that sometimes the hardest decisions were the ones that needed to be made. Charlie felt a knot tighten in her chest—a familiar ache that she had long tried to ignore. The admission that they had come to Shirewilt for Beth's sake brought back a flood of memories, memories that she had buried deep within her mind.

With a trembling breath, Charlie stepped forward, her voice barely above a whisper as she spoke.

"I killed my family," Charlie confessed out of nowhere. All three of them looked at her with wide eyes. "I told people Atlanta was safe. You were there because of me...And you all almost died because of me. I let Dale die because he knew the truth. I wanted to be a better person, but then I killed Lori," she said. "And back in the woods, right after prison...I killed a little girl, because she killed her sister and she wanted to kill Judith. I did it because no one else could do that," she choked as tears filled her eyes. "And I just can't live with this in my chest, even if that will take your trust away. I can't die with this being a secret...I don't want to take it to my grave."

As Charlie's confession hung heavy in the air, Glenn stepped forward, his heart brimming with empathy for his friend. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around Charlie, pulling her into a tight embrace. In that moment, words were unnecessary—the warmth of his embrace spoke volumes, a silent gesture of solidarity and support. With a nod of acknowledgment, Rick offered Charlie a reassuring smile, a silent promise that they would face whatever challenges lay ahead together. In his eyes, she saw a flicker of hope—a glimmer of possibility amidst the darkness.

And then there was Michonne, her expression unreadable as she observed the scene unfolding before her. "We need to stop. You can be out there too long," she said and for a moment, Charlie felt a pang of uncertainty, wondering what judgment lay behind her eyes. But then, to her surprise, Michonne stepped forward, her usually stoic demeanor softening as she reached out to gently squeeze Charlie's hand. "In this world, trust is all we have to hold onto. It's what binds us together when everything else is falling apart," Her gaze swept over the group, lingering on each member in turn. "So let us trust each other, not just in the moments of triumph, but in the moments of doubt and darkness."

In that moment, Charlie felt a sense of unity wash over them—a shared bond forged in the adversity, a bond that would carry them through whatever trials lay ahead. And as they stood together, united in purpose and resolve, Charlie knew that no matter what challenges they faced, they would face them as one.

It was as if the city had been frozen in time, its streets empty of life and its buildings standing as silent sentinels of a world long forgotten. As they moved through, Charlie couldn't help but feel a sense of disquiet gnawing at the edges of her consciousness. Shirewilt had been their beacon of hope, their sanctuary in a world gone mad, but now it lay silent and still, its promise of refuge shattered like glass.

"We could start taking down the trees," Michonne broke the silence. "We use them to build the walls up," she said and walked to the opening in the fence.

Michonne tried to persuade Rick to staying in the city. The group could repair what was broken and destroyed, and create a normal life in here. Charlie felt hope in her heart at the thought of abandoning the life on the road when every day was uncertain; however, her heart sank at the sight that greeted them, once they approached destroyed fence. Strewn across the ground outside the barrier lay the remains of bodies—eaten, torn apart by some unseen horror. The stench of death hung heavy in the air, a bitter reminder of the fragility of life in this unforgiving world.

"Oh, God," Charlie placed a hand over her lips not to throw up.

"Washington," Michonne said. "Eugene lied about the cure, but he thought of Washington for a reason."

"He said whatever popped into his head," Charlie said.

"What if he didn't? What if he did the math and thought that the Washington was a place where there'd be a chance," the woman said. "We're 100 miles away. What if there're people? It's a chance. Instead of making it, because right now, this is what making it looks like," she pointed at the bodies. "Don't you want one more day with a chance?"

As Charlie listened to Michonne's impassioned speech about their journey to Washington, a spark of hope ignited within her. In Michonne's words, Charlie found a glimmer of possibility—a beacon of light guiding them through the darkness of uncertainty. It was a promise of a new beginning, a chance to leave behind the trials and tribulations of the past and embrace a future filled with hope and possibility.

"We should go," said Rick looking at the forest and Walkers that were appearing from it. Charlie looked at defeated Michonne, and she also saw the loss of hope in Glenn's eyes. "It's only 100 miles away. We should go to the Washington."

"Rick! Charlie! Help!"

Some may find solace in the idea of death as a natural part of life's cycle, while others may see it as a motivation to live fully in the present moment. But sometimes, the world just stops for some. When life becomes just a moment between living and dying, and you can't really tell where you are. When living is just pain and death is less scary than living.

Living in a new world. World that belonged to the dead and not to the living anymore became too painful sometimes.

...Tyreese.

[scorchedhearth]

omg if u feel like elaborating i would LOVE 2 hear more about how kyle would get the red ring in ur head <3

while i understand why the comics have kyle master the red ring thru atrocitus making him angry, after all its the most logical way to do that if u don't care about character arcs and growth, i still find it deeply stupid and disagree with that choice, like most of his white lantern arc choices

atrocitus, especially in his early appearances, is calm and collected, he has bursts of rage, of course, but often talks out his ideas, he explains more than once his motivations and organizes the red lanterns and guides them pretty rationally, in addition to all the times he spends thinking and being alone with his thoughts. he's smart and knows how to think, and he wouldn't need long to get how to draw rage out of kyle

i think the best way to appeal to kyle is thru love and personal involvement. he is a hero and cares deeply and wants to save ppl but tragedy makes him sad, not angry. the only time we see him truly mad and out of himself with anger is when his family and friends are hit, alex, terry, his mom, etc. his scariest moments are when he forgoes any of his self-imposed limits to avenge the ppl he loves, which is the whole point of the red ring in the first place, not just mindless anger but the anger of the victims seeking justice

i don't think atrocitus showing him a bunch of ppl dying in conflicts would do it. kyle would be sad, and would want to involve himself and do something, frustrated he can't, angry, but it wouldn't strike him deep enough to be mad with rage, even with atrocitus keeping him from acting, he would be angry at atrocitus himself but 20 min in an armlock is really not enough to make him or anyone feel truly powerless.

it would not be enough to unlock his rage and let him tap into it: every single red lantern has been created because of terrible injustices that have been inflicted on them or their lives, not nondescript or tragedies that do not involve them directly

in my perfect kyle white lantern run, atrocitus would not even try brute force with him, he would know kyle's reputation and would pick it out from talking with him for five minutes. instead, he would take him away and put him on his altar and do some magic, get inside his own head and pick at all those moments of ugly, cold, devastating rage that overtook him in his past and make him understand that rage is a powerful tool, not just something to fight and get over (that's where we hit a roadblock with the concept of the rings and strictly divided emotions, u cannot only feel one, they're intertwined, but that's another topic, because once again just like everything for kyle, his anger is linked to his love and grief)

kyle does accept his anger, especially in his later stories, and does work with it, but it's never for its sake, he pushes thru and leaves it behind and tries to calm down and get himself under control. another point is that kyle does not want to be angry, he does not seek it out and will try to remain calm in situations until something beyond his control tips the balance and angers him beyond control (see examples above) and we see how being in that state tires him out. so another thing would be for atrocitus to show him how anger can keep the fire burning, not just start it, can be a useful tool, and how to dreg up the painful memories and feelings and channel them

my vision is kyle on his altar, atrocitus digging his knife inside him and drawing out blood to use for his magic, it would involve kyle living through those memories of anger but atrocitus not seeing them, he would stand by his side and guide him thru it all like those meditation podcasts do. he would tell him about his own ring, how he feels maddening rage every minute of every day about what happened to his family and how he channels that anger, not the love or sorrow he felt and feels but the white-hot burning point of his anger that keeps him walking, keeps him fighting, how the fire keeps him alive, the desires to take revenge and serve out justice that was never met being his way to honor the memory of those unjustly killed, that forgiving will not bring them back just like vengeance won't, but that there must be consequences dealt to right the balance (and maybe even meet with other lanterns with their own perspective, like that one red lantern who doesn't agree, or bleez who challenges atrocitus on that view)

just, conversations about what anger means to each individual, and how kyle comes to face his own capacity for it when he spent so long avoiding it and seeking peaceful and rational outcomes, sometimes working against his emotional desires (especially in the arcs before his white lantern and how the corps fell apart, how he tried to follow glc logic and was failed by them)

anger being the one ring kyle mastered without fighting or making construct would be an interesting perspective on it, and challenge his view on it, that yes atrocitus has been shown into great fits of rage but here he is, sitting on his altar as he explains his life and reasons for it all and asks him to lay down so he can do a ritual with him. calmy, because anger is not just destruction, anger builds as well. and it's also because i need to see kyle with his ribs split open and blood running down his body <3

the next steps would be atrocitus killing him, slipping the ring on his finger and letting him emerge as a feral being and plunging him in the lake of blood, having explained all he can to him he lets kyle fight his way out of the lake, understand his own anger and desires for justice separate from his duty as a hero. because that's another thing, it's vital that this arc is later in his career, in the beginning we see how he tries to uphold heroes' values (don't kill, save ppl, be impartial, etc) and later on embraces the green lantern corps and some of their views before evolving thru all he goes thru (ion, ion2, the fall of the corps, everything that happens when he's on earth, etc) that push him to reconsider his own ethics and moral stance. i dont think he could come to agree with personal vendetta and bloody vengeance before his mom was murdered

but mostly, it's about him being able to dredge up that anger without the memories, and being able to keep it steady enough to use it, forcing him to recon with the anger he has in himself and how he can call himself kyle and live his life on his love and duty to other while harboring depth of rage and fear beyond any other (if we follow the idea that ring bearer have the most of X emotions in their sector). i think it would be very satisfying to see kyle after so long trying his best to be a good person learn about this anger and embrace it, it would give him an edge and a sharper character that would be fascinating to dig into. the white lantern, the being supposed to look over the universe and keep it safe, being able to feel rage so terrible he spits up burning blood and still looks composed and in control the entire him. scary stuff <3

[missingn000]

Chapter 45 was so great! ✨️

The dynamic between Sukuna and Yuuji in TPG is so special to me.💖 I love the way you write it so much!✨️ Sukuna caring for Yuuji but being unable to show it to him (or anyone). The fact that he gave him a nice dream (that Yuuji probably saw as a taunt, some kind of "You'll never be this happy again" if he even figured out it's from Sukuna at all).

Yuuji trying to hide how much he suffers from his family (poor baby😔) is so sad yet so in character.

I love how Nanami tries to understand Sukuna and talks to him in order to help Yuuji. Like, it's not easy, Sukuna has the attitude of a feral cat that thinks it's God. Every single conversation he's a part of is painful for everyone involved (including himself), but Nanami still tries despite it all.

"I'll make the world hate me more than I hate myself." Sukuna is so lucky (or unlucky) that Nanami did not figure that one out.

"Have you ever considered that not caring is indeed possible, just not for you?" Nanami called him out so hard with this one.

Kenjaku get hit in the head with a brick challenge. I can't imagine being over 1000 years old and spending my time stalking a random family in order to ruin their lives and also to keep ruining the life of some dude (Sukuna). There is being a hater and there is whatever Kenjaku has going on.

Choso!✨️ The fact that he woke up and asked about his brothers before anything else is so cute and also so devastating at the same time (having no identity outside of being the oldest brother who must protect the younger ones must be tough) (but also how could he even have an identity outside of that, he was stuck in a tube in some basement).

Poor guy is not even 1 second old and is already experiencing gaslighting😔.

Uraume!🎉 Not here yet, but they're mentioned at least. "I love a bitch with a real frozen heart." Once Uraume appears is anyone gonna make a connection between the ice gremlin and every time Sukuna mentioned his love for the cold/ice? Because he does that in almost every chapter since he appeared. He said he loves them. King of not being subtle at all✨️.

I can't believe Yuki and Toji were this close to making it official only for Kenjaku to drop the "both of your ex wives died". Wow.

Yuki!💖 I love her so much! Her desire to be seen by Maki and Gojo as a mom, wanting to be called "mom" by them... It's very sweet, but also devastating knowing how much it hurts that both of them didn't tell her about Maki not being Toji's daughter.

The fact that Choso just approaches her and is like "prepare to die", but then has to remember why he is supposed to kill her💀. He is so funny without meaning to.

"This is for Riko." Wow, Kenjaku really went there. This is so unnecessarily cruel. He can act all he wants like his goal is to prove a philosophical point, but his actions are waaay past that. Tormenting Kuroi while wearing Riko's face, gloating to Wasuke, this whole thing just now... He must enjoy it to a certain extent, even if he doesn't want to admit it.

Poor Kashimo being stuck in that horrible work environment.😔 All they wanted was to fight Sukuna, but now they are discovering feelings and have to deal with Kenjaku on a daily basis.

✨️💖✨️

HIII I AM SO HAPPY YOU LIKED IT 💞 god yeah yuuji and sukuna are SO devastating huh. it's like watching a tragedy play out every time they interact. yuuji tries to hide how much he suffers, while sukuna disguises his suffering as cruelty and malice, and the one person to whom he occassionally shows the truth both doesn't believe him and doesn't care. nanami's curious, but it's closer to morbid curiosity -- like driving past a burning car on the highway and looking to see who's dying inside, even though you know it'll upset you. those three all make me so insane.

I AGREE, FUCK KENJAKU MAN. he's so cruel and for what?? it's such casual cruelty too, which makes it so much worse.

chosoooo! he has arrived!! but at what cost lol. he cares so much about his brothers and has constructed his identity solely around that. which is a major theme of the upcoming fight!!

URAUMEEEE<3 im glad you caught the reference lol. sukuna is so fucking funny, bro is not being subtle at all with his love declaration yet no one has a clue wtf he's talking about, like always. the most undersharing oversharer in the history of time.

tojiyuki omg ikr ;__; so close and yet so far. stay tuned for more developments with them!!

[cleverclove]

thanks for posting about hamlet ur the only way i actually understand that blasted book for my english class 🫵🗿🫶

OH HOLY SHIT YOU’RE WELCOME…it’s super fun once you get into it :> but uh here’s an actual rundown if you need it :] (except it’s told in incomprehensible modern day language)

King of Denmark? Dead. He’s king of DEADMARK now hehe

His ghost comes back and haunts the fuck out of Hamlet’s homies

Hamlet’s homies, seeing as said ghost looks exactly like the dead king, decide to tell their emo homie, Hamlet

Hamlet has recently returned from a weeks-long voyage from college back home to Denmark to mourn his dad (F to pay respects)

This bitch is EMO AS HELL (i mean his dad DID just pass so….)

(Btw Denmark is at risk of war with Norway but oddly enough it’s not as big a plot point as you might think???)

Except OOPS! Apparently his mom married his uncle. Wtf mom???

Said uncle is kind of a dick and Hamlet basically sticks his middle finger up at him the whole entire play

Hamlet’s homies, led by his college fuckbuddy, Horatio, come over to tell him about this ghost

King of Deadmark tells him that that motherfucking (literally) uncle of his is behind it

Hamlet swears revenge but debates whether to believe this ghost or not (bc duh, it’s a ghost. Not exactly the most trustworthy source.)

Oh he also has this ex, Ophelia

She’s a cinnamon roll (and the only one in the play)

He’s mad bc she broke off their relationship (bc her father tells her she’s not his type…..royalty back then was only allowed to marry other royalty -_-)

So there’s this whole subplot about their breakup going about as well as you’d expect a Shakespearean tragedy to go

(Or: Hamlet commits borderline domestic abuse)

Yeah he’s kind of a shitty boyfriend (ex now)

Blah blah blah blah shenanigans happen

Hamlet intends to kill Claudius the Dickhead Uncle, who he believes is behind a tapestry in mom’s room

So after a fight with his mom he stabs the tapestry with a man behind it

Except OOPS it’s his ex’s dad

Anyway at this point Dickhead Uncle is like “okay you’re done” because damn this is a PR NIGHTMARE

So he sends Hamlet off to hang out in England for a bit

(And by hang I mean get hung. As in executed <3)

Along the way he gets kidnapped by pirates (?????)

Idk either

He sees the letter condemning him to death

He crosses his name out and puts his FRIENDS who he’s traveling with to death instead

Yeah he’s kind of a shitty friend too

Back to Denmark! Ophelia, obviously unable to live without a man (this IS Shakespeare after all), goes insane at the loss of her dad and bf

She ends up swimming with the fishes (bc she drowns herself. Pure innocent cinnamon roll too good for this world fr.)

Hamlet returns and FUCK.

His ex (who he’s still in love with) killed herself because of him D:

Her brother, obviously pretty distraught at losing his sister AND dad within the span of a few days because of Hamlet, is pretty pissed off at him understandably

He challenges Hamlet to a “friendly *wink* duel”

Clown on clown violence because the poisoned sword Laertes the brother uses hits both of them

Hamlet poisons the king after his mom accidentally drinks the poisoned wine that Claudius planned to give HAMLET to kill him

So yeah. Three people are dead now, and Hamlet isn’t gonna live much longer.

His fuckbuddy from earlier, Horatio, is absolutely DEVASTATED dude

Being the loyal bff he is, he tries to kill himself too to join Hamlet in death

(Kinda gay if you ask me but whatever)

Hamlet dies in Horatio’s arms

(Again, pretty gay but what do I know :P)

Horatio lives and vows to tells Hamlet’s story as the Norwegians storm the castle and take over Denmark.

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

After spending hours this afternoon trying to work on something only to end up:

Breaking two tools I can’t afford to replace

Injuring myself

Having made the problem I was trying to fix worse instead of better

Realizing that this happens to me most of the time

Well, I think I have been avoiding facing this far too long. I am simply utterly incompetent!

Not joking.

Sometimes I know what to do, but I lack the skill or the strength or the money for parts or…but a lot of the time I don’t know. Maybe the vague idea, but not the specifics, and my situation is always just enough off research just points me wrong.

Maybe I’m just an idiot.

What really sucks is that my father was ultra capable, and because Pop and I thought alike everyone, including me, expects me to be ultra capable too.

That’s not fair! I mean, Pop was a genius.

I mean literally a genius in the classic IQ way (IQ is bullshit though, remember that!) but also in what he could do. Tell him build a bridge without modern tools, and he’d design it, cut down the trees, run them through a belt saw mill, and construct it himself so well you could run a tank over it. He was making a submarine from scratch. Where I just daydream stories, he would design sterling engines in his head for fun.

He was so good at stuff, constantly building and making things, using every tool imaginable. He seemed skilled at everything. Construction, electronics, survival skills, actually pretty much anything but musical instruments. TBH I think that’s mostly because he expected to be good at playing without spending time. Oh, and sports. He just hated sports! LOL (and Mom LOVED sports and had been an athlete!)

Pop’s head was overflowing with stuff. Ask him about his favorite areas of science (geology, physics, climate, actually just about everything but human biology) or history or politics and he could go off on it for hours.

I miss that, us out there fiberglassing on layups that could take hours, and talking the whole time. I miss talking to someone that’s interested in everything and never having to worry about being misunderstood or losing or offending the person.

I miss his brain soooooo much! I used to call him my external hard drive. Mom was our calculator and spell check (which is AMAZING since I can neither spell nor do math in my head…and yes, she was extremely smart too), but Pop was everything else. “Hey Pop, quick question about nuclear physics….”

But this is a major source of my problem. I was his side kick. He was The Doctor and I was the companion. I was good at that. Very good. Trouble is I don’t know quarter of what he knew. I don’t have him to ask what to do or how to do it. Every single day I realize how much I took being able to talk to him for granted.

I also certainly don’t have his magnificent, big, strong hands capable of both brute force and the most delicate of detail work. My hands just fumble.

Pop and I did think alike. It never occurred to me he was all that unusual because we got each other. Heck, half the time I acted as a kind of translator when he’d get too frustrated trying to get someone to understand. **

I’d certainly have never called him a genius (and only recently discovered in old papers that he actually technically was…’cause like I said, IQ is bullshit) and TBH, it feels weird to use. I can say it now that he is dead, but to say it about the living sounds like ego stoking crap.

I just thought he was interested in everything and he cared about everything and everyone. All curiosity and intense emotions. This seemed normal.

Pop was a sweetheart and I loved him dearly, but the loss of that wondrous mind of his felt like an extra tragedy when he died. I’d lost my father, my best friend, and my boss….but the idea that that brain was gone from the world was devastating.

Only later did I realize how much I’d lost. Yes, I’d helped him with everything, but I’m not him.

Frankly, compared to Pop I’m an idiot. I flail about cluelessly. My brain doesn’t record things. Once a task is done it gets erased, and so everything I did with Pop got deleted long ago. Just vague shapes of jobs, but the skills are gone. Forgetting means I have to reinvent the wheel all the damn time.

When Pop was alive I felt we could do anything. For too long after I’ve expected myself to be able to continue that indomitability. If I just kept trying, working at it, never giving up, thinking things through, I should be able to do anything too.

But I can do nothing.

For months it has been failure after failure, my world crumbling to dust around me. Not one thing I have tried to repair or create has worked. I make things worse, break things, ruin things. even things I had a modest ability at I no longer seem able to do (just look at all my sculpting, or better yet don’t).

For the first time in my life I really feel worthless, useless, pathetic…I almost even hate myself. Of course I have no one, no friends or family left. Why would anyone be able to care about someone with nothing to offer? I can’t even coast on being cute or funny when I’m ugly and no one gets my humor.( Is it really humor if no one else laughs?)

Today’s task turning into a disaster I don’t know how to fix was like a final nail in the coffin any sense of self respect, pride, and hope that I had. If I couldn’t do this, not a simple job of fitting some beams, drilling some holes, and pounding some nails…..

I dunno. As a little girl I was good at everything I tried. Now I’m good at nothing at all….not even sleep obviously! LOL

** “It’s in my head!” **He’d mime reaching into his head and throwing it at yours** “If I could just get you to see!!!” And then I’d sigh and find the words for it since I could see it too.

[moments-on-film]

Given the horrible abuse he’s suffered and relentless trauma upon trauma, I can forgive Carmen a lot. He has been though so much and tries so hard, and I have so much empathy for him.

Much of what took place from his character’s standpoint in episode 10 was understandable. He was TRYING. He really was and he was succeeding. He also had my favorite moment with Sydney in this episode, a beautiful, quick exchange that I will write about later.

That said, that final fight with Richie was so devastating its impact was akin to a physical gut punch. There are certain things you can’t take back after you say them. Richie said the worst possible things to him at the worst possible moment, which enraged Carmy and set him off but I’m focusing on how Carmy reacted, and what he fired back with. That was such a devastating, ugly, horrible display of misplaced anger, it’s all I can focus on at the moment from this entire season.

I don’t think Carmy believed what he said. I really don’t. He’s probably been harboring feelings for a long time but his words were directed at a version of Richie that no longer exists. Carmy has just been too busy to fully notice. He took all the pain he was feeling at the moment and unleashed it externally.

He lashed out, BAD. He even went so far that he spat at the door at the end of his rant—in a fridge full of his food.

It’s especially hard to endure after watching Richie rise to the occasion so deftly and beautifully in the season’s best sequence.

Richie was so excellent it honestly made me question how Carmen would have expo-ed in that same moment.

We have never seen Carmen command the kitchen and fire on all cylinders, while making the situation fun, and being kind, like Richie did. He was a rockstar in that moment.

Another added element that made the fight so painful to watch is knowing that Carmen cares so much for Richie. He believes in him and set him up for this success.

He wasn’t around to witness the growth of the seeds he planted with his entire team. He literally set them all up for success and they delivered on opening night. He didn’t get to see their journey, and he didn’t get to see how much they have grown and are flourishing. This is why when he is trapped in the walk in his mind starts racing with each of their worst moments from the S1. He doesn’t have faith in how they will handle the night because he literally hasn’t been there to see how each of them has been transformed, even though he believed in each of them to push them to be their best selves through training and new opportunities. He pays attention to and knows them well enough to send them to places where they would be safe and protected and get exactly what they need to grow. He built this winning team.

That fight was really hard to process. Richie didn’t understand why Claire was crying but unbeknownst to him, Carmy didn’t do anything to intentionally hurt her. He was completely vulnerable and spiraling and confiding in Tina and didn’t know Claire was there. Richie oscillating between digs at Carmy and saying I love you while enduring Carmy’s tirade was gutting.

Judging by his reaction, being compared to his mom is probably one of Carmy’s biggest fears, and Richie must know this. We know from S2E1 that Richie’s fear is being cut from the Berzatto family, which he told Carmy. They both weaponized each other’s biggest fears and used them as daggers against each other. It was pure and utter tragedy.

At the end of the season, Carmen is literally caught in a bear trap of his own making. Uncle Jimmy’s investments and pressured speech will ensure he stays there, and only there. He all but told him “I own you now.” It’s twisted and painful and deeply sad to watch.

Just like the series started, Carmy was approaching a raging bear trapped in a cage. He shushed it, and soothed it, and calmed it down. He had empathy for it and then let it out.

He’s trapped in the cage now. The cage of the walk-in, the kitchen, the restaurant, his responsibilities, and his tortured, traumatized mind. He needs a lot of help but ultimately:

He’s the only one who can set himself free.

©️moments-on-film 2023

[antihoecial]

I came to the beach today. Don’t really know what triggered me to come here.. but I came and I’m actually still here right now sitting in my car writing this.

Something just triggered me to come to the ocean today.

Honestly think it’s been the whole submersible disaster combined with the migrant boat tragedy that really got me here to kind of remember those who have lost their lives at sea, and to mourn and remember all the lives that have been lost on this earth. I often think of my ancestors and the lives that have been lost across time and sometimes I just feel this heavy presence around me that feels like it could be them or that everything we see is them the leaves trees stars organisms that make this earth sustainable is them and they are always around us.

The theme of the ocean has really captivated me though and it’s drawing me luring me toward it.

I was always a space girl. It’s where I imagined myself all the time, I was always and still am a very “head in the clouds” kind of girl and I just always was mesmerized by the moon stars astrology the sun the universe black holes time you name it I’m enamored by it if it’s outer space, and I always loved the ocean but I just never really grasped this concept of it until now.

We are the only planet with water.

(I know it sounds like fucking DUH but hear me out….. I just wasn’t thinking of it like that.)

We are the only planet with a whole confident ass ocean. And like we just simply rest on top of this ocean… living our lives. Like there is underwater volcanos that will heat the water’s temperatures to 800 degrees at. the. ocean. floor. Which is at FREEZING temperatures ??? And again here we are. Just here. Not exploring, not even trying, the ONLY thing REALLY able to give us actual life is just being handled by the waste side.

So then like I’m really thinking now about all the things I’ve read about the deep blue these last few days and I read that on one of the dives to the Mariana Trench a plastic. Fuckking. Bag. Was found. TWO plastic bags actually. Mind you if your reading “Mariana trench” and don’t know what that is it’s the deepest known part of the ocean… which ironically Hamish Harding (may god rest their souls) had already been to!

Just wild. We pollute and we curse the very thing we need to survive, it seems like a recurring theme with human beings.. :/ and I don’t know why.

Now to the titanic of it all. (Might as well round up all my thoughts since I’m here)

…

(and I have so many)

I read an opinion someone had saying, the souls who were lost just want to rest, let them rest. And I really felt that sentiment like with my whole heart and soul. Somethings just don’t want to be poked at especially such a devastation such as the titanic.

(Now I also understand the lack of safety procedures being followed plays a role into all of this, but I also believe that in conjunction with this, the two for me are no mutually exclusive which I feel the need to mention)

So. I came to the beach right and all these disasters have been happening right, and so I came to the beach (im about to make a short story long) and the way I really even got to the beach was I was driving to my moms house in Long Island after work, and I got home before her and I just thinking oh my drive about the ocean and I pulled up into the drive way and everything and I just googled the nearest beach and drove off because the thoughts of the ocean created such an urge for me it was undeniable. So I come to the closest beach I found on my apple maps and as I get out of my car to walk to the water I see this memorial for 9/11.

9/11.

And I literally stopped, shaking and staring at what was before me.

A piece of the World Trade Center that was retrieved from that very day after the disaster struck was mounted in the middle of entrance of the beach.

And I had to just stop and think of the world in which we live and honestly write all of this down because it triggered such an emotional response from me.

The world in which we specifically live is literally perfect. Nothing else we know of is perfect but this system in which we exist is perfect. It works perfectly. And that is astonishing. Perfect exists because we fucking live inside around and within it. We work perfectly. PERFECTLY. Like do you know the meaning of that word. 100%. Fucking perfect. And it just made me think that. The perfect fucking world. The perfect solar system.

How everything is connected and interconnected and energy is ever lasting and always and there are spirits guiding you giving you these gut feelings and instincts to do these impulsive things you can’t even understand sometimes but you just feel.

What is that I don’t know but I love every time I experience it because It makes me believe when we die we won’t just be lead to darkness and nothing. Which is really my ultimate fear. That nothing happens and after this we are just nothing and we don’t go anywhere. That would be my hell my worst nightmare! But these moments these moments remind me that there could be more possibilities.

More possibilities.

[xamaxenta]

Unpopular opinion when will people stop asking for money from strangers online

[saintobio]

sincerely yours. (2)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after.

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. profanity, illness, mentions of abuse, mentions of depression, mentions of suicide, mentions of abortion, suggestive

notes. 14k wc. so many things happening i swear. hope you guys enjoy this longer episode &lt;3

series masterlist -> episode three

Initially, it all felt like a dream.

You were stuck in a daze, eyes wide open as you met the loneliest shade of blue that painted your ex-lover’s irises. Every other person in that room wore a flabbergasted expression, but none of them ever mattered to the man in the hospital bed whose full attention was on the woman he mistakenly called his wife. Was the universe playing this sick game on you again? Or maybe, Satoru himself was trying to lighten the situation by fooling around? It confused the rest of you to see why there was no hint of mockery on his face, suggesting that he still truly saw you as his lawful spouse. A surge of unanswerable questions flooded your thoughts and you mostly wondered if this situation was about to enter one of the famous and most overused tropes in romantic tragedies—amnesia.

How did you not realize it sooner? With the amount of bandages covering his head, the traumatic brain injury was susceptible to the aforementioned illness that could change the course of your current situation. You never should have underestimated just how cruel fate could be. You should have learned your lesson three years ago. But through all of this, you weren’t sure if you should be happy with the fact that he remembered you or if you should be devastated about the forthcoming heartbreak that would consume him as soon as he was made aware of the reality of your failed marriage.

Had he known about the truth right then and there, how exactly would he react?

“Gojou,” both Suguru and Shoko released a gasp in unison, rushing from the couch to stand next to their best friend. It didn’t even take another second until they threw a fusillade of questions to ask how he was feeling or if he was okay or if there was anything he needed. Yet none of those questions received an answer because the poor man was still adjusting his vision from the room’s ambient lights. He was transitioning from being comatose to gaining his full consciousness back so it was understandable how he could barely speak a whole sentence. You could see the disorientation in his eyes and you were about to take another step to touch his cheek, but was stopped before you could lessen the visible distance between you two.

“M-My son!” It was his mom who pushed past you, approaching Satoru closer and embracing his fragile body into her arms. “You’re awake… Oh, Goodness Gracious! Praise the Lord. I thought it’d take you long to wake up—”

There was a crease on the area where his eyebrows met, pulling his mother’s hands off him and reaching out for yours instead. “Y/N...”

You had turned into stone without a single fibre in your body moving to react immediately at the sight of your ex-husband pulling you with such affection. This further proved that calling you his wife wasn't a mistake and he may have really forgotten about the past three agonizing years of his life. You just couldn’t fathom the situation unfolding before you. All you could do was to suppress your tears as you stood a safe distance from him out of respect for his protective mother. “Satoru,” you uttered his name with a shaky voice, “I-I’m glad you’re awake.”

Although he winced from the throbbing pain in his head, he urged both his mom and Ieiri to guide him into sitting upright. The first thing Gojou noticed about you was your stomach and how something seemed to be missing. “How... many months... is our baby now?”

You didn’t need to look at them to know that Getou and Ieiri were trading looks of confusion. They were just as perplexed as you were, and the minute of silence that filled the room was due to the amount of shock that left all of you with a question mark on your faces. As for Satoru’s mom, her hand flew to her mouth while she closed her eyes in despair because that one question that came out of her son’s mouth was a clear indication that he had painfully lost a big chunk of memory to further complicate the things around him. He had lost a part of himself and the person to blame in everyone’s eyes was none other than you.

“I…” Not knowing where to start, you hesitantly gave in to his request and sat on the corner of his bed. “Our baby, he’s… he’s a toddler now. He’s a little boy who looks a lot like you. Don’t you remember anything at all for the past three years?”

His mother shifted into a rigid stance and shot you a glare, unable to hide her disgust with how you revealed the information to her son. “Are you really taking advantage of this situation, Y/N? Are you that shameless?”

Out of surprise, you adamantly denied her accusations. “N-No, auntie. Not at all.”

What even surprised you was how Gojou himself kept a detached gaze on his mother. There was no scintilla of respect with the way he looked at her and you recognized this antagonism in his face as something he used to have back when he was still spiteful towards his mom. “Can y-you leave?” he told her, his voice hoarse, “Why the hell are you even h-here?”

No words came out of her mouth, hurt by the rejection from her son who appeared to have forgotten the relationship they had both learned to fix for the past couple of years. It was visible how much it wrecked her since she took care of him every single day while he needed her the most, but he still ended up having those memories wiped out from his brain.

In this situation, Getou and Ieiri had to step in and it was the latter who first made the urgent effort to check on him, “Satoru, hey. What do you remember? Any last memory you can recall?”

“Do you know why you’re in the hospital? Do you know who I am?” The follow up question came from Suguru. “Where were you before this?”

Overwhelmed by the stream of questions, he clutched the side of his head and drew in a deep breath. “Yacht…” he answered with his eyes closed as if searching for specific memories in his brain’s archive, “Me and my wife. The sunset.”

Your eyes grew stunned, in utter disbelief at the last memory he was claiming to remember. All the happy memories, the false belief that you and him were still together, the passionate feelings he used to harbor, the anticipation of his own family—it was the extent of where his mind regressed to. He was back at the time where you two were at a more stable relationship, focusing your love on the baby that he had mistakenly thought was still inside of you. If this was where his memories ended, then why was he angry at his mother? They had already reconciled at that point in time. Was he still missing certain memories? Did he fail to piece them back together? You wouldn’t get to land on an answer until the man himself would lay out every single memory that he could remember.

“Satoru, this isn’t...” His mother’s attempts at calling his name were ignored.

Why? Because Gojou was back to the man that he once was when he was the most in love with you. “I had a long dream,” he spilled to you like a child recounting a nightmare and that same expression on his face reminded you exactly of Sachiro, “It’s a… It’s a long dream... and I was searching for you. You weren’t there and I was scared.”

While the rest of them felt hesitant about giving you privacy, you still aimed all of your attention on him despite the ache in your heart that would not subside. “It’s just a dream. I’m here now.”

“I know.” A weak smile tugged an upward curve to his lips, pulling you to his chest so he could wrap his arms around your frame. “I… missed you. Don’t know why it feels like... I haven’t seen you in years.”

His mother was about to speak up, but Ieiri lifted a hand to stop her. She prevented her from saying another word by shaking her head and gesturing for her to leave things be. Shoko knew as a doctor that it would be critical for a patient suffering from a seemingly long-term memory loss to be triggered by news that might be traumatizing for him. So instead of spilling everything out of the bottle, Satoru’s mother had to suck it in and take her leave. “Excuse me, I’ll inform the nurses that he’s awake,” she muttered, veiling the gloom in her eyes as she walked out of the room. Something told you that she wasn’t done dealing with you today and you already foresaw another round of confrontations (or her confronting you, rather) while Satoru was out of earshot.

“Satoru, are you really happy right now?” Suguru then asked his best friend, never once glancing at you. “Do you remember her and the things she did?”

Ieiri whipped her head towards him, unaware that her fiancé had struck your heart with his trenchant words. “Suguru, stop that.”

“It’s okay, I-I… I’ll just leave.” You couldn’t do this. At least, not when everyone was clearly disgusted at seeing you around Gojou no matter how much you try to show that you were genuine at wanting to be there for him. You had to take a breather from this suffocating hostility before you could have a normal conversation with your ex-husband minus the cold stares and spiteful words that his loved ones unapologetically threw at you.

The palpable tension in the room left Satoru completely flummoxed and he was quick to grab your wrist, sending all three of you a questioning look. “What’s going on? Why are you leaving me?” he asked you, eyes gleaming under the fluorescent lights, “Stay with me.” And as he tried to get you secured next to him, he turned his head to face his best friend, “I don’t… know what’s the matter with you two… but don’t disrespect my wife, Suguru.”

The best friend, who was misunderstood, tried to object and clear his intentions. “But Gojou, she’s not—”

“Sorry, we gotta go.” Shoko made the desperate effort to pull her lover away, snatching his arm and dragging him out of the room despite his numerous objections. If she had not decided for the both of them that it was better to leave, you could only think of the amount of stress this would put Satoru through given the level of frustration that Getou had towards you. You only had the ability to think straight until Ieiri reached the door, chestnut eyes searching for yours while mouthing the words, 'I’m sorry. You got this.'

Why did the room feel so small even when there was enough space for you to walk around? Why did your heart feel so empty even when you believed that someone else had already filled in the gaps?

You concluded to yourself that not telling Satoru about the truth at this time when he was still at his most vulnerable state would not make you the lesser evil. You could argue that it would make you more shameless than you already were, but was it wrong to consider his sake in this situation? He had just woken up with the belief that his marriage had not fallen apart and you found it difficult to ruin the way his eyes lit up at the mere sight of you. You broke a man so much that his subconscious was hanging onto the assumption that there had been no fault in your stars. Oddly enough, it was unbelievable how you could feel tickles in your heart just by seeing how much he adored you—no sugar-coated lies with the love in his eyes, only raw and pure truth.

“Can I get… a kiss, at least?” He eased on his bed, extending a hand to tuck a hair behind your ear.

We’re not together anymore. Only four words needed to be said, and yet you didn’t have the guts to do it. “You should get some rest,” you avoided his request along with his gaze, reaching for the blanket to tuck him under, “Do you feel pain anywhere?”

“Only a little.” Gojou chased for your lips by leaning forward, but ended up kissing your cheek instead as he allowed you to pull the blanket above his chest. It wasn’t just the fleeting kiss that made your heart stop, it was also the glimpse of the deep scar on his forearm that had your eyes growing in surprise. The cicatrix on his skin was solid proof of the pain he had caused himself when you left him three years ago. This was the aftermath of your selfishness that brought a permanent mark on him.

It crushed your soul to ask about it. “What happened to your forearm?”

He followed your line of sight and tilted his head, staring at the once injured tissue that he must have had torn with something frighteningly sharp. “I… don’t know,” was his uncertain answer, “That’s strange.”

“Okay.” You offered a weak nod while hiding the hopelessness in your voice. Maybe it was better to keep a safe distance before his memories could return to the present day because it would absolutely wreck you once all of his love would inevitably turn into resentment. The day would come eventually, but you were somehow glad that you had the time to prepare for it.

“You… said our baby’s a big boy now?” he took his time speaking those words slowly, “Can I see… him tomorrow? I wanna… Why d-don’t I remember anything about—”

Saved by the doctor and the number of nurses that entered the room, you managed to avoid answering the dreaded question about your son. You had to move aside for them, but Satoru had a tighter grasp on your hand, afraid that you would leave him alone. It wasn’t like you were going to refuse him with the information about Sachiro, it was just that you were not prepared to provide many details that he would not even be able to recall. The last memory he had of your baby was when you were still pregnant and he was a father who had read to him every night and kissed him through your bump every morning. To you, those memories felt distant yet recent at the same time, but would that be the same case for him?

“Mr. Gojou, you’re awake. Are you feeling okay? Any throbbing pain on the back side of your head?” asked his doctor, fishing out a small penlight and placing the light on his pupil while the nurses checked for his vitals, oxygen, and whatever else they had to check. The patient answered with a silent yes and no, and all of this happened while his mother stood at the corner, awaiting news about her son as Dr. Ueno evaluated the extent of Satoru’s memory loss, “Do you know who our current prime minister is?”

Although weirded out by the question, he still uttered an answer that he knew, “Shinzo Abe.”

“Hmm.” The doctor wore his stethoscope so he could listen to his breathing, “Are you still the Vice President of the Gojou Group?”

Your ex-husband squeezed your hand. “No…?” his tone sounded doubtful, “I’m the Chairman.”

Your silence was because of your confusion, something that his mother had also felt as you two listened to the responses Satoru was giving. Some were right and some weren’t, so what did that mean? If the last memory he remembered was during the sunset in the yacht, then he still wasn’t the CEO at that time so it just didn’t make sense how his recollection of memories were inconsistent. Why did it look like he was solving a puzzle that never had the right pieces to connect with in the first place? Of course, you left it all for the doctor to examine the situation better by exchanging small question-and-answers with his patient.

“What’s your marital status?”

“Married.”

“Do you have any children?”

“One… A son, but I c-can’t remember what he looks like.”

“Where’s your father?”

“Deceased.”

“Are you sure? How did he die?”

“...I don’t know.”

“Do you remember anything prior to being hospitalized, such as how you got here?”

“In the car, it was… an accident.”

There were a heck ton of questions that you wanted to ask the doctor as you listened to Satoru speaking from his lucid mind, but you would rather wait for the chance and find some time to have that private discussion while your ex-husband was revealing those disconnected memories that he was having difficulties putting together. After being advised to take some rest, it took half an hour until Gojou did fall asleep soundly and that was the time where you and his mother were ushered into the doctor’s office for some enlightenment about his current condition.

The doctor must have anticipated the barrage of questions you two had and he made sure that he had gathered enough points of reference before making his diagnosis. “He’s showing signs of both retrograde and psychogenic amnesia,” Dr. Ueno confirmed, reading through Satoru’s past MRI results and informing you that amnesia actually had certain classifications, “It’s quite a unique case, but also something that isn’t completely new. His brain suffered traumatic injuries that affected his hippocampus and temporal lobes which are areas in charge of storing long-term memory. When I said he has retrograde amnesia, it is mostly because he appears to be unable to recall recently stored memories, such as those memories he had for the past year or so. Contrary to popular belief, a person will not actually lose their entire identity when they have amnesia. That’s a very rare occurrence despite its popularity in books and movies.”

“You said he has psychogenic amnesia, too,” you quietly mentioned, keeping your breathing still, “What does that mean?”

Dr. Ueno plastered a sympathetic smile before he dove deeper into a more sensitive topic. “I had a look into his medical records and was made aware that he had been undergoing psychological therapy for approximately two years. Psychogenic or dissociative amnesia does not root from physical damage, but from severe emotional trauma. It’s a psychiatric disorder that leads the affected person to block out specific memories or traumatic incidents. This may go hand-in-hand with retrograde amnesia because there is a probability that Satoru may have already shown early signs of dissociation prior to the car accident. Are any of you aware of this?”

As you found your uncomfortable silence, you could feel the intensity of his mother’s gaze, staring daggers at your soul until she turned to the doctor. “He was severely distressed before the car crash happened,” she narrated the recent incident in her point-of-view to further drown you with guilt, “He called me after he discovered some devastating news and I do believe that the accident was another suicide attempt.”

“Could be,” the doctor noted, “Well, the accumulation of trauma had developed into Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or the shortened term, PTSD.” He then raised Satoru’s MRI scan near the light frame and pointed towards the small circular patterns in his brain. “You see these red areas here? This is the amount of cortisol level that he has. Healthy brains don’t have scattered cortisols so an average person would only see blue. His stress level is dangerously high and as of now, he’s experiencing large amounts of cortisol inflammation in his brain cells. Those who are suffering from PTSD experience a wide variety of symptoms that include, but are not limited to: constant nightmares, depression, anxiety, difficulty in maintaining close relationships, difficulty in sleeping, feelings of guilt or shame, breakdowns, and suicidal thoughts.”

You opened your mouth only to speak hesitantly. “But he already had some of those symptoms three years ago, like nightmares and such.”

The neurologist considered that. “That’s why his psychiatrist believes that he was in the early stages of PTSD since he was about twenty years-old and his mental health had started to decline from there. I was informed that the patient has opened up about his past and current traumas to his psychiatrist, as well the physical abuse that he had gone through, but it was very crucial that he should have undergone psychological therapy before things had gotten out of control.”

With that being said, would Satoru not have been the same man you married had he gotten professional help since the very beginning? Your toxic marriage was loaded with unhealthy mental, physical, and emotional issues that had only festered into even more complicated problems, leaving both of you swarmed with negative feelings in the end. But the actual problem here lies in the fact that you two entered the spousal role while you still had individual traumas to overcome, and there was little room to see that silver lining in your relationship when it was doomed from the beginning. Forcing a marriage, especially a loveless one, could never end on a good note.

“So, aside from retrograde, he also has psychogenic amnesia,” you reiterated the man’s claim, “and it stems from the fact that he already has PTSD before it all added to his brain injuries? How are the chances of him recovering from that?”

“Most cases of dissociative amnesia are relatively short and memories have the chance of returning suddenly and completely in one-go, but since he has suffered traumatic brain injuries, it may follow the generally slow and gradual recovery process for retrograde amnesia. It's a bit complicated.”

Satoru’s mother was failing to follow. “A-Are you saying that it’s gonna take him a long time to recover his memories?”

Dr. Ueno could not give a definite answer, “There is no time frame to this and neither is there a cure for amnesia. It may take him as short as two weeks or as far as a lifetime to recover most of his memories, if he can at all. It can last hours, days, months or even longer—everything is uncertain and the outcome will depend individually. But while there is no specific medication, I would have him go through relevant psychotherapy which would be our best treatment approach. What we should focus on is ensuring that he keeps a healthy brain, so I highly suggest that he’d be in complete avoidance of stress.”

Hearing about your ex-husband’s condition was shattering enough and discovering how hard things had been for him was tearing you asunder. But despite of your own pain, you had to ask further as to why some of the memories he had recollected today didn’t seem particularly accurate and you were desperate to know if his overall recognition of the past had been gravely affected. “Doc, does amnesia cover false memories? It’s just… I don’t think Satoru remembers some things the right way.”

“Hm... False memories or confabulation is a common side effect of this,” he agreed, explaining the situation better, “it’s either these memories are completely invented or they may be real memories misplaced in time. There is no scientific explanation on why these false memories form, but we can assume that they may be rooting from what his subconscious is yearning for. His brain accepts these memories as reality, so it’s very important that none of you will further complicate his recollection of past events by feeding him inaccurate details. I also want to request the rest of his friends and family members to keep him away from any information that might put him into shock. If you can prevent triggering these unwanted memories until he’s able to handle them, please do your part to help the patient’s smooth recovery.”

Seemingly disagreeing with this was Satoru’s mom. “Are you saying we should lie to his face?”

“I wouldn’t say lying is the right term,” he clarified, “rather, it’s more like keeping certain memories by allowing him to recall them by himself. Allow him to gradually retrieve the missing pieces of his memories—do not force memories that you know he might respond negatively to.”

With the doctor’s advice, you only had one solution for this supposedly temporary problem, but one look at his mother’s face made you think twice of suggesting it.

Perhaps it was better not to cross that line.

After Ieiri dragged her fiancé out of the hospital, the car ride was as frustratingly awkward as it could get. The uneasy silence was the loudest, harsher than the guitar’s squeaking sound or the vigorous vocals from the rock music that was blasting from the stereo. It took a few minutes for Shoko to gather her courage, pressing her manicured finger on the button to turn off the audio, then facing the long-haired man who was driving the Jeep.

“We need to talk,” she insisted with a strict voice, “Why did you yell at Y/N like that? You, of all people, know what she’s been through while she was with—”

“You fucking kidding me? Am I suppose to side with her while my best friend was out there committing suicide?” Getou tightened his grip on the steering wheel, clenching his jaws as he kept his eyes on the road, “I don’t care if we had no idea he was doing that. It doesn’t change the damn fact that you lied to both him and I, and for what? Just because women have to support each other? That’s not how it fucking works!”

Although enraged by his chosen words, Shoko still managed to stay levelheaded. “I told you I never wanted to keep it from Gojou for this long! I just wanted to put all of my trust that Y/N would tell him herself one day. I even risked my medical license because I trusted her reason for keeping her son from him.”

Suguru showed his disgust by releasing a scoff, laughing in disbelief as he turned his head towards the window away from his lover’s gaze, “Is that really enough of a reason to choose her side?” he began to question, “How are you sure she didn’t simply do it to spite him? You can’t expect me to sympathize with her when she’s the reason why Satoru can’t remember shit right now!”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this,” she trailed off, “I can’t believe how easy it is for you to forget the amount of pain she had gone through. She obviously was desperate to be away from him at the time, that’s why she had to lie about terminating her pregnancy because Satoru wouldn’t have freed her had he known she was still carrying their baby. Do you see where I’m getting here? I know it’s wrong and I took part in it and I feel absolutely shit about it, but… for you to make it seem like she wanted him to suffer in an accident or that she was glad to see his memories gone?”

In the middle of driving, Suguru had to pull up on the side of the road before his anger could lead them into an accident themselves. His face remained rigid and his emotions stayed cold, unwilling to understand the situation from your standpoint. “Satoru did his part to make it up to her. She’s human, she should've known how to forgive.”

Shoko invalidated his response, revolted by the point he tried to make. “You’re sick,” she spat, “You’re trying to sound like she didn’t forgive him so easily while he was blatantly cheating on her. That’s the kind of pain that never leaves your soul.”

“Doesn’t mean you should support her for lying about a fucking abortion,” he repeated his argument with a stubborn mindset, “She made him believe that he’s the reason his kid died. She’s the one who’s sick in the head, not me. Not Satoru.”

Thrown into a void of silence, Ieiri felt a bile forming on her throat as she imagined herself being this man's wife. “You know what?” She looked at him dead in the eyes. “The way you’re completely antagonizing her, disregarding her suffering to prove a point, and just being plain coldhearted makes me wonder if I’m ever gonna be subjected to the same pain she went through once we’re married.”

It never occurred to Ieiri that the very first time her and Getou would get caught up in a heated argument wasn’t actually because of their individual shortcomings, but because of the mess concerning their friends. They were fighting because of other people’s failed marriage and that made Shoko contemplate her decision to step into that same marital commitment once she and Suguru had tied the knot. Admittedly, it scared her to even think about it. She was never really expecting a perfect marriage when everyone around her showed just how impossible it was to achieve. However, today wasn’t the best time to doubt her engagement with Suguru because they still had to put their feelings out in the open for them to understand each other’s perspective.

“Well, you ruined my trust and just how willing you are to keep things from me for the sake of others.” He made a subtle shake of his head before sighing in exasperation. “Satoru was a terrible husband, but he didn’t deserve all that. What would you have done if he ended up killing himself, huh?”

She doesn’t understand why Getou was pointing fingers and refusing to understand the bigger picture. There must be a driving factor that made him feel the need to turn his back on everyone except Satoru. Only one conclusion was on her mind as her gaze lingered at the strands of jet-black hair that neatly fell on the side of his face. “Suguru, just answer me… are you being like this because you feel immensely guilty that you failed to be there for Gojou when he needed you?”

His anger may have temporarily dissipated, but regret laced his voice when he answered, “It breaks my heart to know that my best friend, my only one, thought it was better to end his life than to seek help from us.”

You didn’t really get the chance to talk about your ‘action plan’ for Gojou with his mom after the doctor explained the gravity of his condition in full detail.

Frankly, you lost track of time as you came home that night in silent tears, crying in bed as you carried the guilt in your heart. You couldn’t think straight and you found yourself zoning out every now and then to the point where little Sachiro had to call his mom’s attention twice just for your presence of mind to return. Your child had no idea what chaos was going through in your head, and you wished that none of your family members would also catch on as you pretended to look okay while walking around the mansion. Neither Gen, Ian, nor your dad seemed suspicious about the way you were acting despite having the general knowledge of Satoru being in the hospital. They knew he was there, but they didn’t know that you had visited twice now. They also weren’t aware that you had planned to visit your ex-husband again, lying that you were going to work all night in the office in preparation for Hearte’s upcoming launch.

God. How much of a terrible person could you be to even forget to check on Toji because of all the things that were happening? Maybe you should at least send a text message to say—

“Let’s get straight to the point,” Satoru’s mom erased your trail of thought as she approached you in the empty corridor, not leaving a minute to waste from your arrival, “The doctor wants us to keep him away from stress, so you’re gonna have to go with the flow and pretend you’re still married since that’s what he remembers.”

Even if you were lethargic from the lack of sleep, you processed her words with crystal clear understanding. “I can do it, but... well, I have to talk to my family about it and I’d also feel guilty about lying and pretending to Satoru.”

She let out a mirthless laugh. “Where was that same guilt three years ago?”

You refused to meet her eyes. “I-Is there anything else we can do for him?” She may call you barefaced for actively avoiding the topic, but it wasn’t good for your personal health to be subjected to such negative emotions warranted by the older woman’s pique. “I mean, if there are things we need to avoid saying to him, please let me know.”

For now, she decided to let go of her austerity while discussing the arrangement she wanted to have between you and her son. “Don’t mention the divorce,” she requested, “Don’t mention the abortion, don’t mention your remarriage, don’t remind him of his wrongdoings, don’t bring up his infidelity. Nanami’s been kind enough to help take down all those articles about him. I’ll keep him away from social media and so should you.”

With a heavy heart, every instruction she gave you was duly noted, though you also wanted to clarify something more. “Okay, and um… one of the nurses told me that he might be released on the first week of April, so I’m just wondering if—”

“You’ll stay with him,” she cut you off with a quick answer, crossing her arms, “He left the penthouse as it was three years ago. There’s nothing much we need to change in that apartment except altering one of the rooms for Sachiro. I’ll order people to do it before my son gets released.”

This was wrong. Not because you were conscience-stricken, but because you felt that it was awful to put Satoru in this false pretense that his marriage had been perfect for those three years and that he has always had a close bond with a son he was yet to meet. More than that, pretending to be his wife by living under the same roof and sharing the same bed on the penthouse that brought back all of your memories was torture for you. But did you have a right to complain? Since you were the enemy in everyone’s eyes, did you have a right to say just how difficult it would be for you to keep this up without affecting your own mental health and the people around you?

What would your family say? What would Toji say? What would everyone else think of you?

You knew that something just wasn’t right about this set up, but you couldn’t find the right words to say it aloud. Instead, all you could do was be docile to her requests. It was the least you could do to make up for the mental destruction you unintentionally put your ex-husband through. “How long…” you hesitated, “how long do I have to pretend?”

It was easy to notice the wrinkles forming on his mother’s skin due to the accumulation of stress and sleepless nights she had while taking care of her only son. “Until he recovers his memories.”

“But what if he doesn’t get them back at all?” You dreaded her answer more than the question itself.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, then shifted back into her usual strict demeanor—something you had never encountered from her before throughout your childhood. Looking back from your early memories, Gojou’s mother had always been kind and patient, never this cold and unforgiving. You and her ex-husband were the only two people who had managed to elicit this antipathetic reaction from her, “Don’t worry, I’ve already made it clear that I don’t want you back in my son’s life. So, if you’re so upset that you have to act and be his wife again, I’m even more revolted about it than you are.”

Once again, it seemed that she had the wrong impression. “Auntie, I’m not upset—”

“How do you sleep at night knowing that you ruined his life?” she threw knives for words to hurt you, “You didn’t pay him any mercy when you left him destroyed and now you think a simple apology could fix it all? You think a sorry can simply erase how you kept his child from him? Ever since he woke up, my son doesn’t even remember that we’ve reconciled and he’s been pushing me away!” You flinched as she raised her voice. “You are the reason he suffered from depression and no, don’t you dare give me those crocodile tears right now, you hypocrite!”

Your chest heaved as you struggled to control the genuine tears that escaped your eyes. While you could very well understand her pain and anger as a mother, it had become too much for you to handle her animosity. The bottle was full and it was your time to twist that cap open and release your own defense, “Y-You heard the doctor, you know his trauma began when you abandoned him,” wiping your eyes, you continued tearfully, “Auntie, you were an absent mother to Satoru. You left him vulnerable in the hands of an abusive f-father and a toxic household. I understand where your frustration on me is coming from, but I f-feel that you’re getting mad at me for choosing to raise my son on my own because you neglected yours—"

Her slap was crisp on your skin, leaving you speechless and shocked from the sudden pain that hit your cheek to stop you from spouting words that evidently hit a nerve. You think she felt bad at slapping you? There only seemed to be fury in her eyes and no remorse, “Don’t speak about me like you understand what I’ve been through!”

You could tell it was too late to say sorry because you had already crossed a dangerous line, so all that was left for you to do was leave her alone and stay away from her sight while she took umbrage from your words. But even that simple choice could not be made because a nurse soon came out of Satoru’s room to face you reluctantly. “Miss Y/N?” she uttered your name despite feeling the thick fog of tension between you and the older woman, “Mr. Gojou’s been requesting to see you.”

“How are you feeling?”

You hoped that he wouldn’t notice the nasal sound of your voice after you had cried in front of his mom. Before you entered the room, you headed straight into the restroom just to fix up your mascara and ensure that there was no trace of a tearful ‘wife’ when you did show yourself up to him. He had zero knowledge of what words were exchanged between his mother and his ex-wife, and he was even all-smiles when he looked up at you from his hospital bed.

“I’m okay,” he answered, cerulean eyes gleaming at the sight of your face, “I think I can walk now, but they won’t let me.”

You drew in a deep breath and inhaled the antiseptic miasma. “No, you have to stay in bed until the doctor gives you a go signal,” you told him as ‘wifely’ as you could, “I know you didn’t injure your legs, but you were still in a coma for some time so you might find it hard to balance yourself.”

“You carry me, then,” he joked.

And you tried to match his mood, “I’m not your nurse.”

“Yes, you are.” His gaze was mischievous as he leaned forward, pulling you by the waist. “You’re my sexy nurse.”

“And you’re a very bad boy.” For the first time today, you finally got to smile and it wasn’t just because of his playful remark, but because it felt like forever since you shared a moment with someone who wasn’t treating you with rancor. Or at least, for now. As you stroked his cheek, you imagined the times where he almost ended his life and wondered what would have happened to you if one of those attempts had been successful. The hatred you were receiving from everyone would have been a hundred times worse and you doubted that all these people, whether in real life or on the internet, would leave you unscathed.

“Is everything okay, babe?” Concern was evident in his voice and he tried to lessen it by pressing his warm lips against your hand.

There was an awful clutch in your chest that sent you back into an abyss of endless pain. How wrong could you be to think that putting on this whole wife charade would be fine? How could you submit yourself back to the situation that you had already escaped from? Not that you didn’t want to be there with Satoru, but you didn’t spend three years fixing the broken pieces of yourself only to return to the man who once ruined it repeatedly. But because you were bedeviled with guilt and you were expected to humble yourself, you had to suck it all in. “Of course, I am,” you ended up saying, “I’m just a little sad because some of your memories are gone.”

He gave you a look of determination. “I’ll get them back, I promise. I'll keep trying. I can’t believe I don’t recognize my son’s face, I… I feel awful.”

“No, that’s not your fault.” Cupping his cheeks, you became lost in his gaze. “It’s a bit complicated, but don’t blame yourself for not knowing what Sachiro looks like. I promise you, he’s very excited to spend time with you.”

Satoru felt comforted by your words. “Then, can I see him tomorrow? Promise me you’ll bring him,” as you replied with a nod, he eased in his bed and leaned backwards, “And by the way, I don’t want that woman around here.”

Was he referring to his mother? You squeezed his hand softly. “Hey, don’t be like that,” you tried to soothe his misguided anger, “I know you don’t remember a lot, but you and your mom have reconciled. You already forgave her, so don’t push her away, okay? Don’t say mean things to her. She hasn’t left your side for more than three years now.”

The moue on his face lingered for another minute while he was searching his deepest memories to recall the moment when he made peace with his mom, seemingly unable to remember how exactly they fixed their relationship at the time of Nana’s funeral. Nana! Your eyes widened in remembrance and you were about to ask Satoru if he remembered what happened to his grandmother, but about three nurses came inside the room to check on your ex-husband, forcing you to save your question for next time.

The female nurse with short, raven hair smiled at him while she changed his dextrose bag. “Mr. Gojou, looks like we can remove one bandage now.”

It was the male nurse who assisted in carefully replacing the bandages on Satoru’s head, praising him for his continues recovery. “Make sure you don’t scratch your stitches, okay?”

“Just one bandage?” Satoru asked, patting the side of his head. “It’s a bit itchy, you know?”

You and the two nurses shared chuckles as he added more lighthearted remarks about how he was still handsome with all these bandages or how he might need to visit the gym soon to make sure his abs never left. It was supposed to be a wholesome moment, but your happiness was cut short when you spoke to the last nurse with mid-length auburn hair and received her glare in return. “Um, nurse? Can I please request an extra pillow I can use?”

“The patient is our priority, can’t you see? This isn't a hotel.” Her response was curt and straightforward, gaining the surprised face of her colleague who tried to nudge her for answering in an unprofessional manner. She didn’t bother to apologize and instead, turned to Gojou as if nothing happened. “Please get some rest, Mr. Gojou. You have to recover well so your memories could return.”

In the end, you tried to pay no mind and considered that maybe she was only too stressed with her job that was why she snapped at you. Being in the medical field, especially as a nurse, was a tough job so you understood that they would have their moments here and there. At least, the male nurse was kind enough to offer an extra blanket and pillow for you to use while informing you of Satoru’s mother’s whereabouts. “His mom left and said she’ll come back in the morning. I think she mentioned that she has to pick up new clothes.”

You nodded and thanked him. “Yeah, she did tell me. It’s fine, I’m planning to stay for the night so I can look after him.”

“Okay, if you need anything else, let us know.”

“Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Gojou.”

You felt hollow as you watched them leave, noting the way they addressed you as Satoru’s wife and it was giving you a flashback of yourself as his spouse three years ago. Before you were humiliated with the exposure of his infidelity, people recognized you as Y/N Gojou, the envied wife of the man at the top of Forbes Japan’s Under 30 list. It was somehow bittersweet to think of how much you two had gone through—from his affair with Sera, your heart condition, his abusive father, and Eula’s crimes. As those flashes of memories played in your head, you found your seat on the couch next to his bed and reminisced about the first marriage you were in. You found yourself in deep thought even until Satoru had eventually fallen asleep, leaving you forlorn as you contemplated the life you had then and now.

At around midnight, you received a notification on your phone to remind you of your schedule tomorrow and it was the only time you were able to set yourself free from your depressingly intrusive thoughts. Great. An 8:00 AM meeting with the production and design team. You may be bound to have another sleepless night ahead.

It was the first time Akemi had seen you come to work late.

You were always half an hour early for your meetings, but that didn’t seem to be the case when you entered the building today, running off to the conference room and nearly tripping in your heels. There was no need to rush because you held the highest position in your own fashion label, so your team could not start the meeting without your presence. But knowing your personality and just how you wouldn’t want to set a bad example to the younger employees, Akemi could see why you were rushing to make it in time.

You did get inside the conference room at 8:00 AM on the dot. However, the lack of makeup on your pallid face suggested that you weren’t as prepared as you usually were.

“Are you okay?” she asked, watching you take your seat at the far end of the table. Akemi was only sitting to your right, so she was close enough to notice the bags under your eyes. “What happened?”

As expected, you tried to brush it off when you replied to her, “All good. Just didn’t get enough sleep at the hospital last night.” She could tell you had more to say, but she didn’t probe further and respected her boundaries during work hours because your topmost priority as of now was to ensure that everything was going according to plan for Hearte’s upcoming launch. Your work dedication could be proven just with the way you immediately transitioned from being a kind, softhearted woman to a strict, keen-to-detail creative director. Even Nobara, the intern who was typing on her laptop next to you, looked nervous every time you turned to her with a serious visage. “What time’s the fitting today, Nobara?”

“10:30, Miss L/N,” she quickly answered, “The fit models are here, everything will be all set by the time we transfer to the fitting room.”

You nodded once and took a sip from your coffee. “Okay, that’s good. Make sure you take notes of the things that will be changed. There’s not much time to waste today.”

Akemi turned her chair, facing the other end of the table to look at the marketing manager, “You may begin.”

After the appointed person made her introductory presentation, she soon highlighted the brands creative visions by describing the kind of image that Hearte was aiming to establish, “Lightness in fabric, rich textures, and asymmetric East-meets-West patterns,” she began, “Hearte is crafting a signature aesthetic that comprises of classic yet conceptual, ready-to-wear pieces that thrives on elegance, simplicity, and modern minimalism. Together with the eCommerce team, we are currently in the final stages of web development to ensure that the website will meet the brand’s overall image.” She pointed towards the screen where the proposed website for Hearte was shown. “We just need your approval, Miss L/N. You can review and navigate through the website so we can finalize it with the rest of the team before our online launch.”

On her own, Akemi made a quick scan of the website through her iPad and looked at your satisfied reaction. “What do you think, Y/N?”

“This is great,” your voice hinted no doubt, “I have no problem with the website. What I wanna see is the final product. We can’t launch online if we haven’t established the actual products.”

As ordered, Akemi then signaled for the product manager to showcase the sample wardrobes and display five pieces from the collection through the mannequins at the center of the room. The product manager took his time describing the design changes that were made from the previous samples, but a flaw with one of the designs managed to catch your interest and you were quick to point it out. “Didn’t I say those buttons look too big and cheap?” your honest words put the design and production teams in panic, “It doesn’t suit the brand. Do we have other options?”

The production manager tried to object, “Well, we’ve already made purchase orders, Miss—”

You got up from your chair and silenced the entire room with the staccato sound of your heels as you walked closer to one of the mannequins, touching the fabric and then closing your eyes in frustration. “This is satin, not silk.” Here we go. “You’re telling me that this is supposed to be the final sample, but you can’t even provide me with the correct fabric and accessory? We have four weeks left before the online launch! Why are my instructions not being followed?”

Akemi did her part to clarify the situation before you could get even more stressed out, “I’ve been liaising with the factory and they’re using the weightless silk we purchased from the supplier. The fifth design got caught by shipping delays that’s why we couldn’t get the final sample in time. These are just some of the ones our own designers created on-site as a temporary sample.”

Despite her explanation, you didn’t look too pleased. “I don’t need temporary, okay? I need the final. What’s the timetable for production?”

“Two weeks,” answered the production manager, “If only the buttons will be changed, it can take them two weeks to have everything altered.”

You analyzed the timeframe in your head, later sharing it to the rest of the team. “Two weeks until production is finished, three weeks until collection and fittings are finalized—has the show been booked?”

“Yes,” Akemi confirmed, “Layout for the flagship store has been finalized as well and interior construction will begin next week.”

If anyone was going to compare her day to yours, one would argue that Akemi had more tasks and duties to do within the day unlike you, but everything was manageable for her especially after work hours because she would then have the time to relax at her apartment and keep herself away from stress. That was clearly not the case for you since you were dealing with many other factors in your personal life which have all been putting an extra load of pressure on your shoulders. It was difficult to be in your situation and Akemi could very much understand why you had been a lot more sensitive, particularly at handling your emotions, for there was very little space allotted to let you think of your own well-being. You were always thinking of others and never yourself, and this was a trait Akemi both loved and hated about you.

With a packed schedule ahead, she started to worry that you weren’t in the right headspace to go through all of the meetings and appointments you had for the day. It just didn’t feel right that you had to endure such a very busy day after having spent all night looking after your ex-husband. You also had a son to worry about, along with your fiancé and the whole social media slander. Everything was already hectic as is, and you never once stopped to think about yourself in the midst of this crisis.

“Y/N, you need to take it slow,” Akemi gave you this advice while she was checking her emails, updating the open purchase orders, and dealing with quota issues. Only now at 2:30 PM did you have the time to grab a quick and late lunch at her office to talk about your current problem. “I really think we shouldn’t rush the launch, especially when you’re this physically and emotionally exhausted. It’s not gonna be good for you.”

You casually shook your head, dipping a french fry on the ketchup before munching on it. “I’m so damn hungry. I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”

She sighed, smiling albeit feeling bad for the way you were wearing yourself out. “Okay, miss workaholic. You need to go home and get a full eight-hour sleep. I’ll take care of everything here.”

“No, no. Absolutely not,” you refused quite adamantly, “You already do so much for me. I have to deal with all these on my own. Besides, I need to be in these meetings so I can at least get an update about everything. I just hope I can finish early because I have somewhere to go.”

Akemi closed her laptop. “Where to?”

“Satoru,” was your answer, staring at the outside view with a very occupied mind, “I promised him I’ll bring Sachiro today, I just… I didn’t expect to have so much work to do. It’s already three in the afternoon and I’m supposed to take my son to him at four, but I can’t exactly leave work now.”

Wanting to lessen the burden for you, she offered an alternative solution that could ease your mind. “I’ll take Sachiro to him,” suggested Akemi, “I can take him now if you want. I’ll pick up Sachi at your residence, then we’ll head to the hospital.”

You considered the thought, reaching for your phone to look at the recent messages. “Is that really fine?” you asked, concealing the worry in your voice, “I actually asked the nanny to bring him to the office because I can’t let Gen or my dad know that I’m taking him to Satoru.”

“Well, are they on the way?” Akemi grabbed a compact mirror to fix her make up, adding another layer of vermillion tint on her lips.

Before you could dial the nanny’s number, the door suddenly swung open to reveal a grinning Sachiro who quickly ran up to his mommy’s arms with a box of crayons and a small coloring book in his hands. “Mommy!”

“My baby!” Your eyes glimmered as you embraced your toddler, kissing his cheeks while Akemi watched the scene with a fluttering heart. In her head, she yearned to have this moment, too. She longed to have a kid of her own that she could adore and protect, hoping that one day she would also get to be a mother to a child who was as adorable as Sachiro. Neither mother nor son could hear Akemi's thoughts as you continued to speak to your child. “Are you excited to see daddy again?”

The little boy nodded and showed a portrait that he recently drew on his coloring book—it was a stick figure of him, his mother, and his father with the words ‘Daddy + Mommy = Sachiro’. The illustration was enough to melt your heart and give you a whiplash of conflicting feelings inside. “Mama, lookie!”

“Oh, wow~! Did my baby boy really make this?” You cupped his cheeks and pecked his nose, soon staring at the drawing like it was the most beautiful art piece you have ever seen. “This is amazing, my baby. Make sure to show it to daddy when you go there, okay? Auntie will take you there because mommy still has work to do.”

Akemi took that as her cue to get up from her seat, approaching the toddler who happily waved at her. “Hello, Sachiro. Give auntie a kiss.” And as soon as the boy pressed his small lips on her cheek, she then took his hand and looked at you. “Are you sure you’ll be okay here, Y/N?”

You gave her a nod of reassurance, eyes briefly moving towards Nobara who was now calling you for your next meeting. “Yeah, I have to go. I’ll head there as soon as I’m done here,” you scrambled to clean up the table before walking Akemi and Sachiro out of the office, “Thank you so much for doing this, Akemi. You’re an angel.”

Unsure with what kind of atmosphere awaited her, Akemi held a protective grasp on Sachiro’s hand the minute they entered the hospital room. It was too large and spacious for one patient, but she knew that your ex-husband was rich enough to afford such a grand room for a prolonged stay. The interiors reminded her of a hotel suite rather than a hospital, with palettes of beige and brown making the room a lot more inviting than a standard private room. It was silent in the room and nothing except their footsteps were bouncing off the walls as they approached the white-haired man in his bed. His bright blue eyes were of the same exact hues as the little boy who stared at him from a few meters away.

“Sachiro…?” he spoke as if he couldn’t believe that his son was actually in front of him.

Let's have a quick rewind here. Back in the office, you told Akemi that Gojou had woken up thinking that you were still his wife, he was diagnosed with a complicated amnesia, and you had an agreement with his mother to keep pretending to be his spouse until he was able fully remember everything—so here, Akemi was trying to be cautious around the man and reminding herself not to spill any information that he may not even be subconsciously aware of. What made her pity him was the fact that he had no idea that today was the very first time he was meeting his own son, and that son was also just now getting the opportunity to be with his father. It was a reunion tinged with very little familiarity between a father and son who never really had a bond to rebuild.

“Dada, wakey wakey!” Sachiro took hesitant steps closer, doubting if the stranger was someone he could trust. The little boy only let his guard down when Akemi released his hand and assured him that she wasn’t going to leave.

Satoru then noticed Akemi's presence before gesturing for his son to come closer. “Where’s your mommy?” he asked the toddler, allowing him to climb in his bed shortly after. The only response he received from his son was that you were at work, and the confusion in the man’s eyes was soon transferred to the unfamiliar woman in his room. “Do I… know you?”

She kept her distance, plastering a polite smile in front of the man. “I’m a close friend of Y/N. She’s still caught up with work, but she’ll head here after, and um… my name’s Akemi Hirai,” as she introduced herself, she didn’t expect that he would be the first one to offer a handshake, “Don’t worry about not remembering me. We never really had many interactions to begin with.”

Guilt was present in his face, nonetheless. “Still, I feel bad that I don’t recognize my own wife’s friends. Wh-What kinda work is she doing? I just can’t recall.”

“She has her own fashion label,” she answered, making sure that she wasn’t giving too much or too little, but just enough to satisfy his curiosity, “It hasn’t really launched yet though, so.”

He looked quite happy upon hearing it. “Ah… so she pursued her dream. That makes me proud,” his voice faded, only because he was digging through his brain to find the memory of this certain milestone in your life, but after realizing that he couldn’t find it, he focused his attention back to his son, “My munchkin’s all grown up, huh? Look at that white hair. Aren’t you a mini-me?”

Sachiro giggled, glancing at his auntie before looking at his dad, “Dada, Sachi made drawing.”

Akemi assisted the boy in taking out the coloring book from his small teddy bear bag, handing the paper to his father with a grin that mirrored his. They were such carbon copies of each other that even Akemi herself couldn’t believe it was possible. The shape of his face, the curve of his lips, the complexion of his skin—no one could ever doubt that your son’s father was none other than Satoru Gojou.

“This is me and mommy?” They looked at the drawing together, and Satoru guided Sachiro’s hand as they both held a black crayon, adding a Chanel logo on your dress. The man chuckled after they finished the additional detail, then kissed his son’s forehead. “This is a very nice drawing. Thank you, Sachi. Dada will have this framed.”

“He was so excited to show you,” added Akemi, sitting on the chair next to his bed, “Right, Sachiro?”

The toddler hummed in agreement, swaying his head from side-to-side as he stared at his father’s face. The stories Akemi had heard about Gojou weren’t exactly the nicest, but they were narrated in a manner where you still respected him in spite of the things he did to you. You told her about the efforts he made in trying to make up for everything, yet in the end, you had to let go because of how scared you were that the pain would just become a cycle. Truthfully, Akemi used to have feelings of disdain towards him, mostly for the fact that he had a mistress and only used you for his own interest. No one could blame her for taking your side because she was your friend and she understood the agony you suffered with from that unhappy marriage. But now that she was here, now that she finally talked to the man whom she had once only heard of, Akemi couldn’t really find it in herself to be distasteful. How could she when she pitied the loneliness in his eyes despite having his own son in his arms? She could see the way he caressed Sachiro’s cheek, happiness fading into sadness at the realization that he was unable to retrieve the memories he had of him for the past triennium.

Little did he know, he never really had them in the first place. He wasn’t there to see his first steps or hear his first word. He wasn’t there to welcome him into the world at midnight with fatherly tears in his eyes.

“I hate that I… can’t remember my own son,” Satoru opened up while his little boy listened to his every word, “Was I a good father to him? Did I buy him many toys? Did I sing him to sleep?”

Instead of answering his questions, Sachiro formed one of his own. “Dada, do you hate New York?”

The flash of uncertainty showed up in Gojou’s eyes. “New York—?”

“Sachi,” Akemi called the kid’s attention to distract both of them, clearly knowing that New York wasn’t something Satoru should remember for now, “Sachiro, why don’t you introduce yourself to your dad? Didn’t we practice in the car, hm?”

With innate obedience, Sachiro began his rehearsed introduction, “My name is Sa-chi-ro. I’m two years old. I was born on April twelve. My mommy’s name is Y/N, and my daddy’s name is… is…” Akemi mouthed ‘Satoru’ as the boy glanced at her for help, “Daddy’s name is… Go… jou.”

Satoru simply chuckled, oblivious as to why his son wasn’t familiar with his first name. “Good job,” he still praised the boy, “You speak English really well, huh?”

“It's because he watches Sesame Street. He’s actually been watching it in the car with me, too,” Akemi made an excuse, nervously laughing in between. She then reached for the iPad in her bag to play one of the Sachiro’s favorite songs, “Here you go, Sachi.”

The boy excitedly placed the iPad on his lap and clapped his small hands as the Sesame Street characters showed up on screen, letting Satoru snuggle with him as they watched the video together. Akemi could feel her heart jumping as she silently looked at the father and son’s adorable bonding moment, wishing that this was something she could also have one day. “This is the song, la-la-la, Elmo’s song,” Sachiro sang along with his favorite character, “La-la-la, Elmo’s song!”

“Look at Snuffy!” Satoru pointed towards another character, beaming at his son before kissing his cheek. “My munchkin’s a good singer.”

It didn’t take long until the man suddenly winced from the pain in his head, reaching to pull the bandage as his face contorted from the uncomfortable feeling. She was quick to stand next to him, holding his hand before he could fully remove the bandage. “Hey, wait. I don’t think you should remove it,” she worriedly advised, “Is it painful? I’ll call the nurse—”

He squeezed Akemi's hand. “No, don’t. It’s… fine,” he insisted, allowing her to hold his hand for a little longer. She instinctively looped her index finger around his because it was her little way of comforting him, “They replaced it last night. It’s just a bit too tight is all.”

Since the toddler was busy watching videos on the iPad, she took this as a chance to assist Satoru’s needs by scooting closer to adjust the bandage. “Okay, let me loosen it a bit for you,” she kindly offered, finally seeing how attractive the man actually was up close. His eyes were of the most beautiful shade of blue, his lips were of a natural coral tint, and his jawline was absolutely sharp. It would be a lie for her not to say that he was more handsome than the models she had worked with in New York. “Lucky you, your lashes are so long.”

“Thank you. You have really nice nails.” It was a small compliment from the guy, but Akemi found herself smiling until he added, “Reminds me of the long list of things I like about my wife.”

His wife. As she fixed her gaze on his dreamy blue eyes, she said to him in a sad voice, “Hmm… well, if I had a husband, I’d wish he’d list the things he likes about me, too.”

The statement seemed to have intrigued him, however, the moment was interrupted when a female nurse came inside the room while pushing her medical cart as she approached the other side of his bed. Was this the rude nurse that you also mentioned this morning? The woman wasn’t really showing any signs of a terrible personality when she acknowledged Utahime before turning to her patient. “Mr. Gojou, you seem to be happier with your beautiful girlfriend around.”

The little boy looked at his father, which then led the guy to clarify her statement, “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Oh, my bad,” the nurse claimed, seemingly faking her smile, “I mean, it’s just that you two look better together and you have chemistry. I see the way you look at her.”

“Can you not say that in front of the child?” Akemi couldn’t hide the irritation in her voice, eyebrows furrowing as she spoke. She would have said more, but she caught sight of a woman with a grey bob standing on the corner of the room and staring at Akemi in curiosity. It was easy to recognize her as Satoru’s mother and Akemi quickly excused herself from the father and son to pay respect to the older woman, “Excuse me.”

Akemi wasn’t aware of the full history between you and Satoru’s mother, but she felt the need to introduce herself properly to the lady even if she might end up receiving her callous words. On the contrary, the mother showed nothing but kindness in her eyes, “Are you Y/N’s friend?”

A confirming nod was her response. “My name’s Akemi.” Her hand was warm when they shook hands. “Nice to meet you. Mrs…?”

“Yaga,” she answered with a smile, sneaking a brief look at her son from a distance, “Call me Mrs. Yaga. I can’t believe Y/N’s treating my son like this, neglecting him even after we had an agreement. Why is she asking her friend to do her duties? She must hate Satoru so much.”

Woah. Akemi had a rush of internal panic. “Well, she’s quite busy today so I came in her stead, but—”

“Don’t cover for her,” said the woman, unwilling to accept any other excuse, “She’s a spiteful girl. It would’ve been much better if Satoru never remembered her.”

That was just too much, but Akemi didn’t want to argue with an older woman who clearly had no plans to put her pride aside. Instead, she tried to change the topic to keep the woman’s mind away from you, “Satoru seems to be recovering well. Physically, at least.”

Mrs. Yaga agreed, “Yeah, well the doctors say he might be able to go home if he continues to improve,” and then she noted, “I was actually watching you three for a bit.”

Did she mean that little moment between her, Satoru, and Sachiro? Akemi turned her head to peek at the guy only to catch him already looking at her. “He’s nicer than I thought.”

His mother seemed to have noticed the looks Akemi and Gojou traded, later smiling at this short yet satisfying moment. “I wish he had met you sooner. You're definitely his type.”

Gojou. You had to visit him and it was all you could think about as you went through a long day of meetings with different departments, hoping that you could speed up the whole process just so you could leave before 5:00 PM. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on your side because you had to extend your schedule with the advertising team and revise the whole ad samples that were more fitting to your tastes. You haven’t even had the time to have your dinner yet and you failed to keep track of time because it was already 8:30 PM when you finally got to leave the office. It was too late.

Mentally drained and physically exhausted, you were basically dragging your feet by the time you made your exit from the front door, focused on heading to your car but was instantly greeted by a multitude of paparazzi who all blinded you with camera flashes.

“Not today, for fuck’s sake,” you mumbled, covering your face with your bag as you tried to push your way towards your car. You were already bone-tired to the point of fatigue and the crowd of men only led you back to your growing anxiety, restricting air to enter your lungs as they continuously bumped you. “Get out of my way, please. Please.”

This was bad. Your heartbeat was dangerously fast considering that you were at the highest level of stress, but this didn’t stop the intruders from snapping photos of you while harassing you with names that left you frightened for your life.

“Did you and Toji Zen’in break up?”

“There are reports saying that you’re chasing after Satoru Gojou again, is that true?”

“Stop being pretentious, you high-class whore!”

Although you were nauseated by the cameras being shoved at your face, you gathered your remaining energy by searching for the guy who said the last vile remark about you. You realized that your hands were shaking and your vision was just as unsteady when you looked up to see the man being pushed out of the way by someone you didn’t expect to save you in your moment of being the damsel in distress.

“What the fuck did you just call her?” Never in your life had you seen Toji this angry when he grabbed the man’s camera, smashing it on the ground and forcing all other paparazzi to back up. “I’ll fucking sue every single one of you bastards if you don’t stop harassing her.”

You held his wrist, completely stupefied by his sudden appearance. “Toji, it’s okay. Let’s just go.”

“We’re sorry, Mr. Toji.”

“We’re just doing our job. We’re sorry.”

“Then, find a new job, fuckin' assholes,” your man snapped, taking your hand in his and leading you to his car. He didn’t waste another minute before he got you secured at the passenger seat, closing the door, and accelerating the vehicle at 60mph. Not another word was spoken while Toji drove past the other cars like he was racing at the finish line—this, you realized, was how he would deal with his frustration. But Toji was a great driver and he was a longtime fan of Formula 1, which was why you placed a decent amount of trust in his driving skills and allowed him to speed up the car however he wanted.

Only, it wasn’t all that great for your already dizzied state. “Toji, slow down…”

But before he could actually do so, everything had blacked out.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Toji has had enough. Ever since he witnessed how those paparazzi were harassing you, he failed to handle his temper and lashed at one of the men who uttered those disgusting and disrespectful words.

The reason he chose to stay away from you for some time was because he wanted to give you space and some personal time to think of yourself. He couldn’t hide the fact that he felt absolutely hurt and humiliated when you left him at the altar, but it would also be a blatant lie if he said he didn’t expect it.

He had to face the truth. Gojou still occupied a huge spot in your heart, a spot which was promised to Toji, but was never really open for him to enter. He had thought about it over and over, wondering if he would rather become a martyr who stayed with a person that loved someone else or if he should simply accept the fact that maybe you were not meant for each other. He could understand why you were holding on to someone you married because you entered the marriage and ended up falling deeply in love with your ex-husband halfway through. How dense would Toji be to assume that three years was enough for you to fully move on when you had a son who was a daily reminder of the same man you had divorced?

And wouldn't he be a hypocrite to shame you for having a difficult time letting Satoru go when Toji himself felt the same for his deceased wife?

In fact, he was equally as shameless because it had been more than a decade since his wife died and he was still irrevocably in love with her. His feelings for her would remain with him until the day he dies, but this didn’t mean that he wasn’t true to you. He did care for you deeply and wished to have that lifelong marriage with you—except, the circumstances just weren’t right and you still had a long way to go in terms of truthfully accepting another man in your life.

“It’s so damn complicated,” he blew out thick smoke from his lips after taking a drag from his cigarette, “It’s like I understand where she’s coming from because we're on a similar page, that’s why I feel the need to be patient and understanding.”

Naoya’s permanent smirk had only become much more prominent as they talked on the terrace, “Toji-kun, if I were you, I’d just go back to smashing that hot girl in Italy. Y/N-chan is a walking red flag. Not worth all the trouble anymore.”

“You’re one to talk,” Toji found humor in the guy’s ridiculous words, “That’s not her fault. She’s been through so much.”

“Of course, you’d say that.” As he pulled out his phone, the blond scrolled through the screen and showed Toji’s recent Instagram post after he came home tonight. “So, are we gonna talk about this whole defending-my-fiancé post you just made?”

It wasn’t really as big of a deal as Naoya was making it seem. The post was made solely so that all these people would stop harassing you both online and in real life. The sight of you passing out from too much stress was a wake-up call for Toji to put an end to all this slander because you didn’t deserve any of those hurtful and unfactual words. As an effort to clear your image, he wrote a short message in his Instagram with all the key points being 1) calling off the wedding was a mutual decision 2) you had always been a genuine partner to him 3) for people to stop assuming things about the private matters in your life that they knew nothing of. He also briefly mentioned in the said post that he would take legal action against malicious posts—an advice given to him by Ian as they had a conversation about it this morning. It was also the reason why he went to see you in your office today and it was purely a coincidence (and perhaps a good one) that he saw with his own two eyes how you were being treated by the paparazzi. Otherwise, he never would have realized how those men were treating you without him.

To be honest, his knuckles still felt cold whenever he remembered the scene from earlier. “She’s passed out in my bed right now. I can’t imagine the amount of stress she’s been in.”

“Then, relieve her stress?” Naoya suggested, matter-of-factly. His tone hinted at mischief. “It’s time for that make up sex. Or hate fuck, if you prefer to get her roughed up.”

Toji mouthed for him to shut up, later transitioning the conversation to something business-related. “Did you get your secretary to organize that meeting with the web development company?”

The blond grunted as if talking about business was the root of his stress. “Toji-kun, why can’t you just attend all these meetings for me? I got no time to chase another company when I’m the client.”

“You handle our subsidiaries. Stop acting immature and be responsible for the role I gave you,” he lectured the younger man, “How are you gonna run the Zen’in Group one day if you’re not passionate about it?”

This was just a phase and Toji was aware of it. Naoya had been excellent as the Chief Marketing Officer, but being promoted as the CEO to their subsidiary company seemed to have taken a huge chunk of confidence from the guy. Not only was he performing unsatisfactorily lately, he was also passing some of his responsibilities to Toji just because the man was the head Chairman and CEO of their conglomerate. “It’s not like I’m next in line, anyway,” Naoya reasoned, “Megumi’s gonna be your heir, so give me a break.”

“You’re being childish.” Toji ignored the blond’s huff of frustration, chucking the cigarette into the ashtray before placing both of his hands into his pockets. “Meet with Sukuna within the week and seal the deal. Cleave Tech is the top web development company right now and you don’t wanna let this chance go. We need him more than he needs us, you know that.”

Aside from the stubborn eye-roll that the blond gave him, nothing much was said and he had no other choice but to obey Toji’s orders because being the head of the family meant that his commands ought to be followed. In the meantime, Naoya was planning to just spend the rest of the night playing billiards with Megumi, but the said fellow was seen walking through the halls carrying a certain white-haired blue-eyed kid.

“‘Gumi, I wanna see mommy!”

“Your mom’s still sleeping. You gotta sleep, too.”

“B-But Sachi wants mama to sing.”

Toji, along with Naoya, walked inside the estate to meet with the two. Megumi was just putting the kid down before he could speak to his father to explain Sachiro’s sudden appearance. “Akemi-san dropped him off,” said he, “She mentioned that she couldn’t leave Sachi at their house without Y/N.”

Naoya scoffed. “Huh? Does she think Gen’s gonna kill her nephew or something?” He then looked at Gojou’s child and raised an eyebrow. “Hey, snowflake. What do you think you’re doing at my house?”

Toji hit the back of Naoya’s head before he crouched down to meet Sachiro’s level, “Sachi, your mommy’s resting. Why don’t you play with ‘Gumi in his room? Do you want milk?” While the child shyly nodded, he ruffled his snow white hair and urged Megumi to take him into his room. “Alright, someone will bring you milk. Go to sleep after, okay?”

A short-haired girl suddenly appeared on his side. “I got him. Don’t worry, Toji-san. Just focus on the love of your life.” Mai was the one who carried little Sachiro in her arms, swaying the kid happily before she scowled at Naoya. “You’re so annoying.”

“So are you,” was the blond’s response, “Bitch.”

Sachiro covered his ears and yelled at Naoya. “Bad uncle!”

“That’s right, Sachi,” Mai egged him on, “He’s very bad. And very ugly, too.”

Megumi, looking too tired to listen to their childish quarrel, nodded for his dad to just go to his room and leave everything to him. “I got this, dad. Go check on Y/N-san.”

So Toji did exactly that. Not because he was tired of dealing with his family’s antics, but because he was also hoping to spend some quality time with you. It had been a while since you two had been alone together after the postponed wedding nearly screwed up your relationship, but Toji had decided to just look past that whole fiasco for the sake of saving the bond you have shared for more than three years now.

You were half-awake when he entered his bedroom, shifting under the duvet before you turned around to see Toji climbing in bed. There was that momentary confusion in your eyes that soon faded as you remembered what happened before you passed out. “What time’s it…?”

“Half past ten,” he said, wrapping an arm around your waist and placing a soft kiss on your shoulder, “Are you feeling better?”

You let his fingers trace the straps of your bra as you stared at his face in both relief and hesitance. “I’m fine. Are you not mad at me anymore?”

“No, I miss you.” And he really did, especially when he finally leaned in to kiss your lips. The movement of his mouth was rougher than usual, eager to get a taste as he kissed you with fervor. He cupped your breast with his hand and kneaded the soft mound, then trailed kisses on your jawline until he was able to unclasp your bra from behind. He knew his breath was warm as he whispered in your ear, “Spend the night with me”

Heat permeated your cheeks and Toji found it adorable, seeing how you tried to suppress a smile while you traced the tattoo on his shoulder. “Wait, wait, Toji... I-I need to tell you something important first,” guilt was rising from your throat, he could sense it, “It’s about Satoru.”

He brushed a few strands of hair out of your beautiful face, hushing your lips with a kiss. “Later. I don’t wanna hear you saying his name on my bed.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[castielcommunism]

yeah i rly don’t think ppl give dean enough credit with the mary of it all in s12. the whole “oh this 40 year old man expects his mommy to make soup for him” type of take is boring like ok putting aside that maternal resurrection is an insane situation that would likely destroy one’s psyche, dean is also trying to unlearn so much…like yes the situation IS both funny and depressing, both for dean and mary (and sam to a lesser extent). but like you, i think deans reactions are a testament to the good parts of him, not the bad!

yeah like the expectations Dean puts on his mother ARE unreasonable don’t get me wrong but they’re deeply sympathetic. Like this is a parent who he has exclusively good memories of and has heard only good things about. She also doesn’t know Dean at all, which I think excites him. John was constantly disappointed in him and withheld his approval, and I think on some level Dean figured that if he could just be My Mom’s Oldest Son then he would finally have a parent who would properly love him and take care of him the way he needs. In some ways Dean is emotionally still a four year old because that was the point at which he lost his childhood and was treated like a resource by his father. I think Dean does want Mary to make him food and tell him everything will be okay and tuck him into bed. Not literally, but like emotionally those are the things he wants from her because they’re things he’s never had.

And in 12x22 when he watches her say that to his four year old self he realises he doesn’t actually want that because it’s a lie. They can’t reverse time or undo the damage in their family’s history, but they can start fresh and try again (which is exactly what he says to her).

And Sam wants those things to! Like he absolutely wants A Mom. But he doesn’t put all of his emotional expectations on Mary or like bare his soul to her immediately the way Dean does. Dean places all of his emotional baggage at her feet and demands she deal with it, so when she decides to leave he’s not only completely devastated by it, it also retraumatises him (my mom is leaving again) and confirms all his worst fears (once my parents know who I am they hate me). Which is, again, unreasonable and unfair to Mary, but it’s understandable. Sam doesn��t do any of that. He’s sad his mother is leaving but like he’s not going “oh my god my mom hates me and wants to leave me, specifically, because my lot in life is to be abandoned by people I love when I let them down” the way Dean does. Sam definitely feels a lot of resentment and anger towards Mary for making the demon deal, for not preparing him or their family for it, for dying and destroying their lives, but she never really fell from this high mantle for him. She’s just an utter and complete stranger that their father was obsessed with.

And obviously like Mary is not blameless in this. She did make a deal, and her actions did destroy her family. She had children with John and she does have a responsibility to them, even if they’re suddenly these grown adult men she doesn’t know. But the tragedy of it is that none of them are really at fault for what happened, or for Mary coming back, they just have to deal with these circumstances the best they can.

So yeah back to the original point of this ask, a very compelling part of s12 for me is watching Dean try really hard at making his relationship with Mary work. And like he’s kinda bad at it! He fucks up and they argue and he gets his feelings hurt but he still wants to try. We don’t really see him do that in the show with the other relationships he has, and it infuses a lot of much needed sympathy to his behaviour and just makes him overall a much more interesting character. I wish the other relationships he had with Sam and Cas had similar stakes, but this is supernatural etc etc.

[redphlox]

I received my English copy of the bnha fifth light novel today and ahhh, the Todo family chapter was so insightful, fun to read, and sad all at the same time. I loved all the little details because they tie into the manga. These are just a few of my random incoherent thoughts and reactions I wanted to share with y'all:

Natsuo reflects that as a child, before Shouto was born, he wanted his father's "love and care" , so "he would act energetic and eager" for attention whenever Endeavor was around. But his father never acknowledged him. BUT, Natsuo is grateful that he had his "warm and caring" mother to "help him cope" with that rejection... UGH!! It's horribly devastating that his first memories are of being ignored by someone who's supposed to love him more than anyone else on this planet.

Natsuo goes on to think about how he felt like Shouto stole his mom from him after he was born because she started giving Shouto so much attention. As an adult, Natsuo understands that she was just projecting Shouto from their abuser, but it still hurt. That makes sense - Rei was the only source of parental comfort and acceptance he received and suddenly she was also gone. He must have felt emotionally abandoned, and even moreso (I imagine) after Touya died.

Speaking of Touya, Natsuo thinks about him in passing and I get the feeling it's painful to think about Touya. That makes sense too, considering why Touya died. In the chapter, Natsuo also reflects that Touya will always be the same age he is in his picture at the altar so it feels like time stands still in that room 😭 😭 😭 UGH!!!

Natsuo is just incredibly angry that his family is broken. He blames Endeavor because he sought out Rei for a quirk marriage, treated them like they don't matter, and abused Shouto.

Natsuo's onii-chan instincts start to kick in as he tries to make small talk with Shouto because they've barely talked. He kicks himself (mentally) for being so awkward but again, blames Endeavor because this is all his fault that he doesn't have a relationship with Shouto...

Meanwhile, Fuyumi really does go out of her way to make a happy family. She and Natsuo dance around each other awkwardly when Natsuo says something angry about their dad and she tries to be positive, trying to not upset the other. This makes so much sense in light of chapter 302 where Fuyumi says she always knew her family was broken but tried to pretend it was all okay. Ahhh. I love that this really ties into that chapter, which hadn't even been out yet at the time this novel was published in Japan. Hori must really guide this author and approve of things beforehand.

The amount of guilt and inadequacy that Natsuo feels because he couldn't do anything to protect his little brother when Endeavor was actively beating him is genuinely awful. That also coincides with his comment in 302 about slugging Endeavor and making him talk to Touya. This poor boy is filled to the brim with unprocessed sorrow and feelings of helplessness and powerlessness. Not surprised either - this is a fairly common reaction for survivors of abuse and dysfunctional families, but it hurts to see Natsuo carry around this pain and misplaced responsibility.

Fuyumi does try to console Natsuo and tells him that his pain is still valid after Natsuo compares his abuse to Shouto's. UGH!!! 😭 😭 I love that even though both Natsuo and Fuyumi are on opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to their dad (anger vs. willingness to give him a chance) that they don't dismiss each other. They're actually very considerate of each other's feelings. LOVE IT!! There's a sentence in this chapter about how Natsuo and Fuyumi have been together in this all this time and he can't hide his feelings from her. She knows him too well. YESSS, that sibling bond ♥

Fuyumi sets it up so that Natsuo and Shouto spend some alone time together while she cooks. Natsuo tries to play ball with Shouto but they just end up falling in the koi pond. Later, Shouto says he was caught off guard when Natsuo threw the ball because that was the ball Natsuo and their other siblings would play with all the time and Shouto always watched them and wished he could play too. 😭 😭 😭 😭 Natsuo sheds a few tears fndjdjsjsjdj. What could have been... 😭 😭 😭 This is literally a grieving process for them both - they lost their childhoods. There are no do-overs. And Natsuo blames himself for not going out of his way to invite Shouto to play. Like, Natsuo... You were also a baby 😔 don't be hard on yourself.

Shouto's baby-of-the-family genes kick in too when the soba he and Natsuo were making is a major failure and he's feeling emo about it. His siblings chuckle at him and tease him. Shouto is like, "THIS IS A TRAGEDY IT'S NOT FUNNY" 🤣 but smiles with them anyway.

Endeavor is almost crushed by a villain with a King Kong quirk lmao. The siblings watch this on the news. After Endeavor wins, Shouto goes back to mourning his soba. lmao.

At the end the siblings wish this is just the first of many get togethers!!! And I hope so too!! 💞

[dreamerwithapen1]

Revenant

Something was off about Hawkins, Indiana. The sleepy little town had risen to infamy over the course of just a few years due to the seemingly random, freakish, and tragic events that devastated the town one after another, never allowing its residents to catch their breath. One of those people being Heather Young, who- just like the town- had also gone from unnoticed and uncared for to the center of attention within the span of three years.

Everyone in Hawkins knew who Heather was- and made it a point to stay away from her. After all, no one wanted anything to do with the drugged up, scatterbrained, anxiety ridden freak. She spent her time in solitude, surrounding herself with books and music, trying to ease the unending, aching loneliness that filled her. And then, in the year of 1983, Heather disappears. But unlike Will Byers, it doesn’t involve fake deaths, extensive search parties, and conspiracy theories. Because, just two days later, she returns, dirty, terrified, and traumatized- but otherwise unharmed.

But the Upside Down isn’t done with her. Because just one year later, with demodogs running rampant and Will getting possessed, something seems to be calling to her from the depths of that dimension, urging her to return. Then, as summer break rolls in, she garners the unwanted attention of the already notorious Billy Hargrove- or more specifically, of the creature residing within him. But it isn’t until her senior year of high school that everything reaches a breaking point.

It had begun so well. Through hardships and tragedy, she had found lifelong friends in Nancy, Jonathan, Steve, and Robin and had grown to care for the kids as if they were her own siblings. Her mom was finally starting to open up to her and seemed to actually want to have a relationship with her. But perhaps the best and most surprising thing of all was her budding friendship with Eddie Munson, a fellow outcast who soothed her anxious mind and understood her in a way that no one else did.

But then Vecna makes his move, claiming victim after victim, and the bloody trail appears to be leading straight to Heather, who is finally starting to understand why the Upside Down has staked its claim on her.

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