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yuutaok · 1 month

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⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Spring Leaves, But I Never Will

Yuuta Okkotsu x Reader

In the eerie mountain forest, you seek to find what is missing. Lost and disoriented, you encounter a mysterious boy with eyes like the dead, his presence is captivating. With a gentle hand, he beckons you, and you follow.

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Word Count: ~4.4K

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Content Warnings: 18+ MDNI (Minors Do Not Interact), P in V, AFAB! Reader, prone bone, unprotected sex, creampies, posessiveness, supernatural/paranormal stuff happens, open-ended ending, Reader is lost in a forest and meets Yuuta, Yuuta is a freak

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Author's note: Hiii I am back with a vengeance. Belated birthday fic for Yuuta ♡ Life exploded me so I never got the chance to finish until now. Also, I would like to thank Sen (@/ banjjakz) for inspiring some of the horror aspects of this <3 They have such a lovely way of writing such mysterious horror that I deeply wanted to try my hand at, so please go read their Yuuta fics bc they are sooooo delicious ok I'll stop swooning now byeeeeee

Lost amidst the dense, foreboding forests of the mountains, you trudged forward, the fading sunlight casting long shadows across the winding trail. Your heart felt heavy with the weight of recent events, the memory of your painful breakup still fresh in your mind. It had only been a couple of days, of course your heart would still hurt and your hands would still shake. And still, the need to escape, to clear your head and find solace amidst the solitude of nature, had driven you to embark on this day-hike alone.

The townsfolk often whispered about this mountain as a haunt for the heartbroken.

And so, here you were.

The hike was pleasant. You took the time to leisurely look at every interesting formed rock or beautiful sprouting flower that you had stumbled upon. Spring had just begun and it felt nice to be in the calm serenity of nature. You took care to not stray too far from the beaten path but still found your way crunching through the trees to look at specimens that caught your eye. It was a great way to get your mind off of things, to forget about life for just a moment.

But now, as the sky darkened and the woods grew eerily silent around you, regret gnawed at the edges of your resolve. Perhaps venturing into the wilderness alone had been a mistake, a reckless act born of heartache. Panic tightened its grip on your chest as you realized that dusk was fast approaching, and you had yet to find your way back to civilization.

With each step you took through the dense undergrowth of the forest, the sense of urgency weighed heavy on your shoulders. Nervously, you glanced at the sky, watching as the sun dipped lower and lower, casting long shadows that danced ominously through the trees. Hope flickered like a dying flame within you, faltering as the daylight waned faster than anticipated.

Your mind wandered to the rumors that had long circulated about the mountain, tales of heartbroken souls seeking solace among the towering trees, only to vanish without a trace.

It was said that the forest held secrets whispered confessions etched into the bark of the old oak trees, and love letters left behind by those who had come seeking solace from their pain. But these were not ordinary declarations of affection; they were haunting, twisted reflections of despair, each word filled with grief, obsession, and heartbreak. You have heard people say that love is the worst curse of all.

Some claimed to have heard mournful voices echoing through the woods, the ghostly whispers of lovers calling out into the darkness, their cries fading into gusts of wind and rustling leaves. Others spoke of strange symbols carved into the earth, cryptic messages left behind by those who had succumbed to the forest's embrace.

You still had decided to come, despite the unsubstantiated rumors that were whispered by the old grannies in the surrounding town. You’d be damned if you suffocated under the weight of your heartache. But as you delved deeper and deeper into the forest, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched— honestly, maybe the old ladies knew something you didn’t.

Panic clawed at the edges of your mind, threatening to consume you whole. Desperate, you called out into the silent woods, your voice echoing into the vast expanse of darkness that surrounded you, “Hello…? Is anybody out there? Can anyone hear me?”

But the only response was the feeling of eyes on the back of your head and the haunting whisper of the wind through the branches, carrying with it a sense of desolation that chilled you to the bone.

With each passing moment, the forest seemed to close in around you, its shadows stretching like grasping fingers eager to ensnare their prey. You were never quite fond of the dark.

Heart pounding, you broke into a run, stumbling through the underbrush in a frantic search for anything familiar. Each rustle of leaves and snap of twigs beneath your feet sent a jolt of fear coursing through your veins, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you raced against the encroaching darkness.

And then, just as panic threatened to consume you whole, you burst through a thicket of bushes, only to collide with an unexpected figure standing in your path. The air left your lungs as you fell flat on your ass.

You looked up at what, or who, you had just crashed head-on into.

It was a boy, his dark eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity as he regarded you with an enigmatic smile, despite you just pummeling into him with your full force. The shock of the encounter left you speechless, frozen in place as the realization dawned that you were not alone in the woods after all.

You made eye contact with the stranger, and a chill swept through the air, sending a shiver down your spine. His dark hair fell in tousled waves, framing his pale face in an unsettling contrast. His tired eyes bore into you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. A curtain of bangs parted across his forehead, framing his features in a shadowy veil. His lips twisted into a smile and held a hint of something that lurked just beneath the surface.

There was an undeniable aura of unease that surrounded the boy, a sense of foreboding that lingered in the air like a haunting melody. As he extended a hand towards you, offering salvation in the darkness, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something deeply unsettling about him.

"Are you lost?" he asked, his voice low and soothing. "It's dangerous to be out here alone at night. I can lead you to safety."

You looked up at the stranger incredulously, as if you would be dumb enough to follow a stranger you met out in the woods!

Sending your apprehension, the raven-haired boy smiles kindly, “I promise, I don’t bite. Please, it’s getting late and I don’t think I could live with myself if I left you out here by yourself.”

Weighing out your options, you realized that maybe this was your best choice. It’s either that or freezing out in the woods, or better yet being eaten by some wild animal that you hardly can find yourself against.

You looked around, dazed. With darkness closing in around you and no other options in sight, you accepted his offer.

“Alright,” you sighed. “But please don’t try anything, I’ve been told I have a killer right hook.”

He looks at you, obviously amused, “Of course, I’ll be on my best behavior.”

And begrudgingly you had to admit, despite everything in your body screaming for you to keep running, you felt completely and utterly relieved to see him.

As you followed the raven-haired boy deeper into the woods, the sense of unease only intensified, wrapping around you like a suffocating cloak. "Where are we going?" you finally asked, your voice trembling slightly with apprehension.

His dark eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion as he turned to face you, his expression guarded yet strangely calm. "To my cabin," he replied, his voice low and steady. "It's not far from here. You'll be safe there for the night. You can rest for as long as you need to."

Though his words offered reassurance, there was a lingering doubt in the back of your mind. You had heard stories of people disappearing in these woods, never to be seen again, and the thought sent a chill down your spine.

There was something about the dark-haired man that unsettled you, something that whispered of hidden dangers lurking beneath his calm exterior. And even so, something about him drew you in, made you feel so immediately safe with him.

"Who are you?" you pressed, your voice wavering with a mix of fear and curiosity. "And why were you out here alone?"

Yuuta hesitated for a moment as if weighing his words carefully. "My name is Yuuta Okkotsu," he said finally, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "I live in the woods, away from civilization. As for why I was out here...let's just say I have my reasons."

His cryptic response only fueled your apprehension, but as the darkness closed in around you and the sound of rustling leaves filled the air, you realized that you had little choice but to trust him, at least for now. With a nod of reluctant acceptance, you followed Yuuta deeper into the woods, praying that you had not just made a grave mistake.

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

His cabin appeared suddenly, a rustic structure nestled amidst the towering trees, its windows glowing with the warm light of a fire within.

"I don't usually invite strangers into my home," Yuuta admitted, his gaze lingering on you with a mix of curiosity and something you couldn’t quite place your finger on. "But I can't leave you out here alone. You're welcome to stay until morning." Though grateful for his offer of shelter, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over you like a shroud.

There was something about Yuuta's demeanor, a subtle intensity in his gaze, that sent shivers down your spine.

You stepped into Yuuta's cabin, grateful for the warmth and shelter it offered. The cozy interior enveloped you in a comforting embrace, dispelling some of the tension that had gripped you since your encounter in the woods. It was humorous actually, how warm the cabin felt in comparison to the uneasiness its owner gave you.

“Home sweet home,” Yuuta said as he took your coat and nodded his head for you to follow him.

Yuuta wasted no time in playing the role of a gracious host, offering you a change of clothes and access to his shower. His bathroom was neat, he didn’t have much, just the basics, but it was still appreciated nonetheless.

As the hot water washed away the dirt and grime of the forest, you felt a sense of relaxation seeping into your bones, soothing the frayed edges of your nerves.

Emerging from the shower feeling refreshed and revitalized. You found Yuuta busy in the kitchen, a delicious aroma of spices and savory delights wafting through the air.

As you peered over his shoulder, you caught a glimpse of the bubbling pot on the stove, filled with rich, fragrant curry. The sight stirred memories of comforting meals shared with loved ones, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia. "That smells amazing," you murmured, your mouth watering at the thought of indulging in the hearty dish.

Yuuta glanced up from his cooking, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It's just a simple curry," he said modestly, though there was a hint of pride in his voice. "But I find that simple comforts are often the most satisfying."

You offered to help, eager to contribute to the meal in some way, but Yuuta shook his head gently. "No need to trouble yourself," he insisted, his gaze softening as he gestured for you to take a seat at the table. "Relax and settle down. I'll take care of everything."

Though you hesitated for a moment, the warmth of Yuuta's demeanor and the promise of a delicious meal were too enticing to resist. With a grateful smile, you sank into a chair, content to watch as Yuuta worked his culinary magic, the comforting rhythm of his movements lulling you into a sense of peace and contentment.

As you settled into Yuuta's cabin, you couldn't help but take in your surroundings with a sense of curiosity. The interior was simple yet cozy, with polished wooden floors that creaked softly underfoot and walls adorned with faded photographs and intricate tapestries.

The cabin had a rustic charm to it, its bare furnishings lending an air of simplicity to the space. Yet, despite its minimalistic design, everything seemed meticulously arranged, each item in its rightful place. There was a sense of order and precision that spoke to Yuuta's meticulous nature, a trait that you found oddly comforting.

On the shelves lining the walls, you noticed an eclectic array of books, their well-worn spines bearing the marks of countless readings. From classic literature to obscure texts on folklore and mysticism, the collection spoke of a curious mind.

Nearby, a shelf displayed a collection of handmade erasers, their vibrant colors and whimsical shapes. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of these charming little creatures. There was a sense of warmth and homeliness to Yuuta's cabin that made you feel strangely at ease. It was as if the space itself radiated a sense of comfort and belonging, welcoming you with open arms into its cozy embrace.

Before you knew it, the food was done and Yuuta served you a steaming plate.

“Thank you for the meal,” you said, nervous.

“It’s my pleasure,” Yuuta replied.

With the two of you sitting down to eat, you found yourself opening up to Yuuta in a way you hadn't expected. You told him about your recent breakup, the pain and heartache that had driven you to seek solace in the wilderness.

Yuuta listened attentively, his dark eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that surprised you. "It's dangerous to be out in the woods alone," he said softly, his voice tinged with a note of concern. "Who knows what evils could be lurking in the darkness? I'm glad I found you when I did." A chill ran down your spine.

Though he had shown you nothing but kindness, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling of anxiety that crept up around Yuuta's presence. He was good company, however, and you worked hard to ignore the way your hands clammed up and each hair on your skin stood up when he leaned in closer to speak with you. You chalked it up to your nerves.

The two of you continued to converse, him asking you more about your life and you asking about his. As Yuuta shared snippets of his past, you found yourself drawn to him in a way you couldn't quite explain. There was a sort of charm to him, an undeniable allure. Despite the lingering doubts that were dancing in the back of your mind, you couldn't deny the attraction you had towards him. You felt like a moth catching fire as it approached an open flame.

With a sigh, Yuuta leaned back against the cushions, his gaze drifting to the dancing flames of his fireplace as if lost in thought. "You know," he begins, his voice a low, melodic murmur that sends shivers down your spine, "I wasn't always a hermit living in the woods." His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken sorrow.

"What happened?" you ventured softly, your voice barely more than a whisper, to not disturb the mood.

Yuuta's gaze flickered to yours, a hint of sadness lurking in the depths of his dark eyes. "I used to live in the city, surrounded by noise and chaos," he admitted, his words tinged with bitterness. "But... I lost someone very dear to me." His voice trailed off, grief etched into the lines of his face.

"She was my childhood sweetheart," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper as if speaking the words aloud pains him. "We were inseparable, bound together by pure, untainted, love.”

A heavy silence fell between you, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of the wind outside. "She was taken from me," Yuuta murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "And I... I couldn't bear to stay in that world any longer."

As he spoke, you sensed the weight of his sorrow pressing down on him, a burden too heavy for one mere person to bear alone. "I tried to move on, to forget her and the pain of losing her," Yuuta admitted, his voice raw with emotion. "But no matter how hard I tried, I could never escape the memories of our time together."

“So I left," he confessed, "I left everything behind and retreated into the solitude of the forest, hoping to find something to fill the hole in my heart.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his sorrow, and you could not help but feel a surge of empathy for the man before you. At that moment, you realize that Yuuta and you are not so different after all, both haunted by heartbreak, seeking solace in the expanse of trees. In his eyes, you saw a reflection of your desires, a longing for connection and understanding.

But even as your heart yearned to unravel the secrets hidden within Yuuta’s dark and mangled heart, a sense of unease lingered at the edges of your consciousness. There was still something unsettling about the way the shadows seemed to dance around him, as if alive with an energy of their own. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on…

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

As the night stretched on, the air thick with a palpable tension, you felt a strange sense of drowsiness wash over you. Your eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion as you let out a quiet yawn.

With a soft smile, Yuuta reached out to you. His was touch gentle, yet firm, possessive even. You felt yourself lean into his touch as if he weaved an invisible spell around you.

"You look tired," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody that seemed to echo with the whispers of the forest itself. "Come with me, let me take care of you."

His words washed over you like a warm embrace, dispelling the last glimmers of doubt and fear as you allow yourself to be guided by his steady hand. With a silent nod, you allowed Yuuta to lead you to the bedroom, the warmth of his presence enveloping you like a protective shield as you sank into the soft embrace of the bed.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting shadows across the walls like dancing spirits. He leaned over you, his body flush against yours, his hand steady and reassuring against your skin.

As you lay there, the haze of drowsiness clouding your senses, you felt Yuuta begin to pull away. You grasped at the hem of his shirt, silently begging him not to go.

His features were veiled by the shroud of night, his smile, though unseen, seemed to materialize in the darkness. With a gentle pull, you drew him down to lay beside you.

"Do you want me to stay?" Yuuta's voice, a soft murmur, caressed your ear as his head nestled against your shoulder.

"Yes," you found yourself pleading, the words slipping from your lips in a whispered plea. "Don't leave."

Yuuta's lips brushed gently against your neck, his touch tender yet possessive. "I won’t,” he murmured, “I won’t ever leave,” his voice a velvet whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “I’ll keep you safe, I promise,”

In your sleepy state, you found yourself melting into his touch. Yuuta's kisses trailed a path of fire along your skin. Each kiss was a feather-light caress that seeped into each layer of your skin, burning you from the inside out.

Slowly, he moved up your neck, his lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake as he explored every inch of your skin with adoration.

As Yuuta's lips found their way to your jaw, you felt yourself melting into his embrace, lost in the dizzying whirlwind that you now understood as Yuuta Okkotsu.

His movements were calm and deliberate, his touch gentle yet commanding as he explored every curve and contour of your body with dedicated devotion. Each touch left you yearning for more. You would die if it meant you could feel this loved forever.

Soon enough, Yuuta’s lips found yours, his kisses both tender and possessive, his passion evident in the way he claimed your lips.

As his lips danced with yours, you found yourself with the thought of never being apart from him. It filled you with a sense of completion. You could feel the depth of his devotion. Could he feel yours?

As if to answer your question, Yuuta’s touch became more urgent, his hands roaming over your body with a ravenous hunger. You felt happy that you could be consumed so ardently, that you found yourself secretly hoping that you at least tasted good.

Breaking out of your thoughts, you realized Yuuta was removing your borrowed clothes bit by bit. He made sure you were left in your panties.

His strong hands moved to caress your bare skin, his fingers leaving imprints on your body. Yuuta’s nails and grip dug into your skin as he kissed you. His hands moved to explore every curve and contour of your body with a reverence that bordered on worship. You wondered if he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

You leaned up to deepen the kiss, which only furthered Yuuta’s excitement. His lips moved hungrily against yours, his touch seeming eager, desperate, or perhaps so incredibly lonely, even.

Yuuta’s wet kisses left you dizzy, your senses were overwhelmed by him. Noticing the strain between his legs, you reached your hands down to unbutton his pants & paw at his boxers. Yuuta obliged by tossing them off to the side with your lost articles of clothing.

You moved to guide his hips to meet yours. With him between your legs, you moved to grind against him. You both gasped as his hard member pressed against your soaked panties.

You look up to see his reaction but notice something in Yuuta’s eyes become dark. His grip on your hips became tighter as his nails dug crescents into your soft skin.

Yuuta took this moment to grind himself deeper into you, his cock sliding between the lips of your pussy soaked panties. You let out a wanton moan, grinding back against him, desperate for any form of friction or release. You felt his cock rub against your swollen clit, moving back and forth in a way that left you crying out for more.

As Yuuta continued to tease you, he paused for a moment, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke in a low voice, "Do you want this?”

You shivered, a chill running down your spine.

With a hitched breath, you nodded.

“Will you be mine?" He asked, his eyes peering deep and dark into your own. You felt like he could see right into you like he was clawing his way into your soul to make a home in it.

You were okay with that.

You nodded again, “Yes, I’ll always be yours.”

With a glassy darkness in his eyes, he flipped you over onto your stomach, his movements rough and commanding as he positioned himself behind you. He tsk’ed as he ripped your ruined panties off, throwing off into the darkness of the room.

Well, you didn’t need those, anyway.

You could feel the heat of his breath against your ear as he whispered, “I’ll make it so you can’t ever think to leave,” sending shivers down your spine.

Yuuta trailed hot kisses along your skin as he positioned himself above you. With a low moan, he pressed himself against you, the throbbing hardness of his member seeking entrance to your dripping heat.

And then, with a thrust, he entered you. Yuuta’s hands gripped your ass as he slowly sunk his hard length into your wet core. You sucked in a breath, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as he filled your pussy completely. He was big. So much bigger than you anticipated.

‘We fit together perfectly’, you thought to yourself.

His pace was slow, with him getting used to the tightness of your cunt. You looked up at him with adoration as he leaned over your shoulder to give you a sloppy open-mouthed kiss. A trail of saliva left between your lips when you parted.

Yuuta’s spent no extra moment finding his stride, his movements becoming rough and unyielding as he fucks you with such devoted reverence. You’re helpless. All you could do was beg for more as you gulped in the air.

It’s obscene, the way he makes you moan. You’re powerless to fight against the way he makes your heart skip and your stomach churn. You feel on fire like he’s burning you to a crisp of ash and dust only to resurrect you again if only to just keep fucking you.

Yuuta’s movements become more urgent and the tension between you reaches its peak. With each thrust, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, your senses overwhelmed by Yuuta.

Suddenly, you feel a surge of pleasure coursing through your veins, your body convulsing with the intensity of your release. With a cry, you shatter into a million pieces, the only thing able to leave your mouth is the chant of, “Yuuta-- Ah, Yuuta, Yuuta.”

“I’m here,” he replies, voice strained feeling your pussy tighten around his cock, “I’m right here.” Feeling the wetness and tightness of your cum triggers Yuuta’s climax, and with a stifled moan, he follows suit, pouring his hot cum into you.

Yuuta pulls you into his arms, his leaky cock still hard inside of you. Your dark-haired lover kisses your temple and leaves sweet whispers across the sweat of your skin. He holds you close, entwining you into him as your eyelids get heavy and you feel sleep take over your spent body.

You feel loved.

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

In your dreams, you find yourself lost in a labyrinth of shadows, the air thick with the scent of decay. Whispers echo through the darkness, taunting you with half-formed promises and cryptic warnings.

You stumble through the endless maze, searching for an escape, but the shadows seem to shift and twist, leading you further into the depths of your despair.

And then, just when you think you can bear it no longer, you see him. Yuuta stands before you, his dark eyes looking into yours as he reaches out to you with a hand shrouded in darkness.

He whispers something, you don’t understand. But you still reach out, taking his hand into yours.

You awaken with a start, the echoes of your nightmare still lingering in the recesses of your mind.

Heart pounding, you sit up in bed, the room bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains.

Yuuta is gone, but his warmth remains.

A sense of foreboding settles over you like a shroud.

#₊˚ 彡✩ ₊˚ writing #⋆୨✿୧⋆ jjk #⋆୨♡୧⋆ yuuta #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x you #yuuta okkotsu x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #yuuta smut #EXTREMELY BELATED BDAY FIC LETS GOOOOO #idk if u will see this but #hiii sen i hope u dont mind the mention o///o your newest Yuuta fics had me in such a chokehold that i started this…#but then u finished my comm and my braincell was literally screaming #I NEEEED TO WRIT EJ NEEED I NEED I NEED #so basicallt thank u for making me insane

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lecsainz · 5 months

Note

I just wanna say that I love your fics! and want know if you can make one with Travis Kelce and reader where they lost a baby

NOT AGAIN

˒ ⌕ masterlist . . .

parings: travis kelce + wife!reader

summary: the one where you and travis lost a baby.

🗒️: I had no idea how to write this, I did it as I saw in movies and series so forgive me if it got bad.

type: angst ✶

The sterile walls of the hospital room echoed the heavy silence between Travis and Y/N. Their eyes spoke volumes, burdened with the weight of a shared sorrow. Y/N clutched the ultrasound picture, a cruel reminder of dreams shattered once again.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Kelce," the doctor's words lingered, a haunting refrain in the room.

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she whispered, "Not again. Why does this keep happening, Trav?"

He wrapped his arms around her, his voice barely above a whisper, "Life's just been cruel to us, love."

The grief hung thick, palpable. Travis wiped away Y/N's tears, his own eyes mirroring her pain. They navigated through the wreckage of shattered hopes, mourning a child that would never be cradled in their arms.

Days turned into nights, and silence engulfed their home like a heavy fog. Travis found Y/N sitting in the nursery, surrounded by baby clothes and a crib that would remain empty.

"I can't bear this emptiness," Y/N whispered, her voice breaking.

Travis knelt beside her, their hands entwined. "We'll get through this together, no matter how many times life tests us."

As Y/N uttered those words, Travis's phone rang, the caller ID flashing with his mother's name. With a heavy sigh, he answered, the weight of grief evident in his voice.

"Mom, it's not a good time," Travis murmured, trying to maintain composure.

His mother's cheerful tone echoed through the phone, unaware of the tragedy that had befallen them. "I was just checking in. How's Y/N doing? Is the baby kicking yet?"

Travis closed his eyes, the lump in his throat growing. "Mom, we... we lost the baby."

A stunned silence followed, broken only by Y/N's muffled sobs. Travis closed his eyes, grappling with the weight of the words he had just spoken.

His mother's voice cracked, "Oh, Travis, I'm so sorry. How's Y/N?"

Travis turned to Y/N, her grief-stricken face reflecting the agony in his own heart. He hugged her tightly, shielding her from the world. "She's hurting, Mom. We both are."

His mother's voice softened, "Oh, Travis, I'm so sorry. We'll be there for you both, however you need."

After ending the call, Travis turned to Y/N, her tear-stained face etched with pain. He gently cupped her cheeks, forcing her to meet his gaze. "It's not your fault, Y/N. You hear me? This isn't on you."

She shook her head, tears streaming down. "Travis, what if it is? What if I can't give you the family we dreamed of?"

His heart ached at her words. Travis embraced her, whispering, "No, love, don't you dare blame yourself. We'll face this together, just like we always have."

#travis kelce social media au #travis kelce x you #travis kelce oneshot #travis kelce fic #🏈. — american football works ⋆ ࣪.*#travis kelce x reader #travis kelce au #travis kelce one shot #travis kelce fanfic #travis kelce imagine #travis kelce #nfl x reader #nfl fluff #nfl fic #nfl fanfic #nfl imagine #nfl football #nfl #travis kelce imagines

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matan4il · 1 month

Text

Ahead of Eurovision 2024

I was listening to Eden Golan's song, Hurricane.

youtube

At first, it didn't seem to me like it stands out. I'm one of the people who prefers my Eurovision song less on the power ballad side of things, so this being in that genre...

But then I found myself haunted by the lyrics. By specific lines. Singing them to myself quietly, over and over again. I had to listen to the song again.

And it got to me, it really did, I haven't stopped listening to or singing it since, so I guess I needed to share a bit.

There's more than one hint that this is a song about mourning and survival. Lines like, "someone stole the moon tonight, took my light" can be interpreted in more than one way. But they become less ambiguous when combined with ones like, "holding on in this mysterious ride," when the mysterious ride we're all on is life itself. It makes it clearer that this isn't just a break up song. Then it becomes even more explicit with, "we shall pass, but love will never die."

The imagery in the videoclip is also telling, that ending when Eden is looking up, much like many do when talking to or thinking about a loved one that we have lost.

But the line that gets to me the most, the first one that took over my brain? "I'm still broken from this hurricane."

We all get what this song is about, in the wake of what happened here in October 2023, and since. And I am broken. So many Jews and Israelis are. As one survivor said (his words have haunted me first, then I heard them echoed in this song): "We are broken, but strong." That's exactly what the song is about, deeply feeling the pain and the tragedy, the loss, this impossible to accept grief, and still trying to find a way to live with it, to survive not just the horrors of a massacre, but the trauma that follows it as well.

The other line that affects me the most is directly related to this, "baby, promise me you'll hold me again." Because I have spent the last 5 months watching the news, seeing the funerals, and hearing people breaking down, as they say a variation of this to their loved ones, who are gone. Asking for a promise that can't be made, or fulfilled, and knowing that it can't, even as the request is being uttered. I hear their voices breaking around their words, whenever I listen to or sing this line.

The videoclip is also infused with imagery that's related to the massacre of over 360 people at the Nova music festival (and the kidnapping of 40 more from that scene), which is in a way very apt for music lovers. The images show dancers in what looks a lot like a nature party, just like Nova, and since the massacre happened when the music festival was meant to reach its peak, a long night of music and dancing climaxing around sunrise, that's exactly what we see, a move from the "moon light" throughout most of the videoclip, to the "sunrise" at the end.

But in the case of this "sunrise," Eden can smile, she can find comfort, she can sing a few words in Hebrew that reflect hope, about that little light that's left even when the moon's been stolen.

She's bringing the song to a beautiful, emotional closure.

Obviously, it can't be ignored that this is a re-write. The original song (which was called October Rain) was disqualified as "political."

You can read the original lyrics here. They're almost identical. I heard an interview with the song writers, who said they weren't even told what got their song disqualified, so they had to guess what the Eurovision Broadcasting Union had in mind, when they called an expression of our pain, and our strength at the face of that, "political."

I admit, I find it very hard to accept this disqualification. It's not like there isn't precendent for countries at the Eurovision expressing pain (including the kind originating from political circumstances) through their songs.

If you take the wildly popular Ukraine 2007 entry, the singer was quite obviously singing "Russia goodbye," with allusions to Russian interference in Ukrainian elections while wearing outfits reminiscent of Soviet uniforms. And that wasn't called political, because "Russia goodbye" was changed into gibberish that still sounds like it (and in recent performances, it was blatantly sang like that).

If you take the much talked about Croatia 2023 entry, it was about the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022, and also criticized Belarus' tyrant kissing Russia's tyrant's ass, by referencing the tractor that Lukashenko bought for Putin, while the band members played with military weapons and uniforms on stage. And that wasn't disqualified for being political.

If you take the Ukraine 2016 entry, that was explicitly singing about their pain over what the Russians did to the Tatar population in Crimea in 1944, with clear allusions to what Russians did when they invaded Ukraine's Crimean peninsula in 2014. And that wasn't called "political" either.

Even this year, we have the entry from The Netherlands being political, with both the lyrics and videoclip referencing the borderless Europe (which IS a political issue, as Brexit, if nothing else, had made clear). I've seen people pointing out online that the song isn't political, because the whole borderless Europe thing is a metaphor for the singer's grief for his father/parents. I have no problem with that reading, but let's acknowledge that there could have been many metaphors for that, and he chose a political one.

So why is Jewish pain treated differently? Why is our pain labeled "political," when the metaphors for it in the songs aren't that, there are no specific political mentions of people or organizations in the song (unlike the Georgia 2009 entry, which slipped Putin's name into the song's title) in either version, when there are no political statements being made in the song, there's just expressing our pain, and trying to find a way to cope with it?

This WAS the biggest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust, and expecting Jews not to write about it, not to sing about it, not to try to process it through art... Our pain is not political. It's human. When Ukraine won in 2022 with a song that wasn't originally political, but became one, as it was adopted by Ukrainians suffering from a war that they did not choose, but had to fight, singing it wherever they were displaced (I remember the winners, Kalush Orchestra, coming to Israel to sing it for and with Ukrainian refugees who found shelter here), I thought it was quite obvious, even for people who don't like politics at Eurovision, why the song won, and why everyone overlooked the fact that it was only partly based on its qualities as a Eurovision song. I don't expect Israel to win, I very much expect that, even as Israelis embrace this song about our pain during a war, that we didn't choose, but have to fight, and while hundreds of thousands of us are still displaced, we will get a lot of hatred, instead of understanding and sympathy. But I still have to speak up. I still have to point out that treating Israeli or Jewish pain differently is wrong.

(as a footnote, I wanna get ahead of the usual, "Why is Israel allowed to participate in Eurovision to begin with? It's not in Europe!" comments, while I haven't come across the same ritual for certain other Eurovision participants, like North African Morocco, just-as-Asian-as-Israel Lebanon, transcontinental {despite some of these countries only being considered European culturally, while geographically speaking, they're fully Asian} Georgia, Russia, Cyprus, Turkey, Azerbaijan and Armenia, and the one that's a continent all on its own, Australia. They all have the right to participate, because they all belong to the European Broadcasting Union. Just like Israel)

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abduloki · 8 months

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Saw some people saying how Anakin has fallen to the "dark" side in this scene but to me it's not as simple because war changes you.

When you first lost someone, it broke you and you doubt yourself if you are doing the right thing, just like Ahsoka is feeling here.

But as you continue to lose more people you realise that it's inevitable and you "shield" yourself from getting hurt emotionally.

Because you don't have time to wallow in self-pity reflecting on your actions when there are people who are still depending on you.

People under your command looking up to you to lead them, people you're supposed to protect waiting for your arrival to rescue.

Every second you hesitate, more lives are lost. And he's trying the best he can to save as many lives as quickly as possible.

As much as he want to protect every single one of his men from dying, he realised it's impossible with enemies on every side.

The more time you spend mourning the lives that have been lost, the less time you have to save the lives of others that are in danger.

That's what Anakin is trying to tell Ahsoka in this scene but he could not find the right words because his mind is all messed up by the war.

You can see how tired he looks by the never ending war and how affected he is by it but pretends it didn't bother him in order to lead.

He even uses humour as a defense mechanism so those around him does not fell to despair and depression by the senseless war.

He's frustrated that Ahsoka does not get what he is trying to teach her as he doesn't want to lose her like the clone troopers.

Nobody wants to fight but the enemy doesn't care about that and will continue killing whether or not you lay down your weapon.

So what else can you do in such situations when the politicians failed to reach a peaceful solution? If you stop fighting, then what happens to the people are being attacked and killed by the enemy?

That's one thing I love about this flashback scene as it shows you the horrors of war in a span of a few minutes that you do not see in the Clone Wars animated series.

After all the things he had seen on the battlefield, you understand how he lost faith in the Jedi and the Republic, finally pushing him off the edge in Revenge of the Sith.

Palpatine conveniently orchestrated the whole saga, even removing Ahsoka and Obi-Wan from his side, to isolate him from the others so he could make his move on Anakin.

That's what Palpatine has been planning all along, to push Anakin into the brink of despair just so he could push him off easily to the dark side and gave in to the dark side.

#star wars #ahsoka #ariana greenblatt #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen #clone wars #jedi #obi wan kenobi #revenge of the sith #palpatine

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skeletondeerart · 1 year

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Stories of the Sky People

Sully Family x GN!Dream Walker Reader (Platonic) | Word Count: 1209 Words

Synopsis: Tasked with watching the Sully kids while Jake and Neytiri are away leads (Y/n) to recite the ‘Ugly Duckling’ story by Hans Christian Anderson, one of their favourite stories back on Earth to keep the kids occupied until their parent return.

The reader is the same age as Jake.

I never knew my life would turn out like this, taken in by a world many light years away from my birthplace. I have finally found my place amongst the people of Pandora. In particular. In the embrace of the Sully family.

Back on Earth Jake and I were both marines. Him an ex-soldier since he became paralysed. And me? I was a Captain yet also resigned alongside Jake when I lost my leg from a mine.

It was tough for the both of us. But our injuries bound us together through the worst times in our lives. We quickly became like siblings to each other, and we mourned together when we got news that Tom was killed in action. That was when we were both requested to join the Avatar program. They needed Jake to pilot Tom’s avatar and my own avatar was approved to begin the growing process since they deemed me a suitable candidate to gain information on the Na’vi.

We had nothing left to loose, so we signed the papers without hesitation and began our new lives.

That leaves us with today, I sat in the family home with Tuktiery in my lap. Kiri sitting to my left, Lo’ak to my right, Neteyam sitting cross legged in front of me and Spider laid beside Neteyam. I was one their own, like an Auntie/Uncle to the young Na’vi. I made jokes and orchestrated pranks on their Father just to see Jake flick me the finger as we all ran from the scene of the crime.

“So, what happened then?” Tuk gasped her yellow eyes wide with wonder.

“The Mother duck came to realise that one of her babies didn’t look like the rest, they were grey and much larger than their tiny yellow siblings. Yet that didn’t matter to her. She leads all the babies into the water watching them swim along with her, even the grey baby. The mother was happy that her grey baby swam like the rest and thought to herself “Why, that's no turkey," she said. "See how nicely he uses his legs, and how straight he holds himself. He's my very own son after all, and quite good-looking if you look at him properly. Quack, quack come with me. I'll lead you out into the world and introduce you to the duck yard.” My quaking impression got a chuckle out of the kids as my smile also grew at their happiness.

All the Sully Children were wrapped up in the story, maybe it resonated with them in a sense. Being half human and half Na’vi, well in Spider’s case, a human amongst the Na’vi. Feeling like an outlier in their clan.

“The Mother duck’s friends complimented all of her children yet insulted the grey duckling, the grey duckling was pecked at and shunned by all the different animals, the other ducks, the hens, the humans. So, when he grew up, he left.”

A gasp left the five children at this twist.

“Oh no! Poor grey duckling!” Tuk whimpered. I ran my hand up and down her back in a comforting manner.

“The story isn’t over yet Tuk.” I stated with a smile as I continued, “The grey duckling flew away from his Mother, sick of the treatment from all the other animals. He then found his way to a lake that had elegant white swans. The grey duckling said to himself "I shall fly near these royal birds, and they will peck me to bits because I, who am so very ugly, dare to go near them. But I don't care. Better be killed by them than to be nipped by the ducks, pecked by the hens, kicked about by the hen-yard girl, or suffer such misery in winter."

“The poor grey duckling thought himself as ugly because that was all anyone, but his mother had told him. But in fact, he was quite wrong. As he lands in the clear waters exclaiming to the beautiful swans to kill him, he bowed his head and caught his reflection. He was no longer the reflection of a clumsy, dirty, grey bird. He himself was a swan! Being born in a duck yard does not matter, if only you are hatched from a swan's egg.”

“He was praised by the other swans and the other animals of the yard. He felt so very happy, but he wasn't at all proud, for a good heart never grows proud. He thought about how he had been persecuted and scorned, and now he heard them all call him the most beautiful of all beautiful birds. He sang out "I never dreamed there could be so much happiness, when I was the ugly duckling."

“Awwwwww~” Kiri cooed, “I’m glad the duck- I mean swan had a happy ending.”

Tuktiery had a big smile on her face as the conclusion of the story. Neteyam had a warm look in his eyes and Lo’ak lent back on his hands with a smile on his own face. Spider has a grin on his as he looked to the woven floors.

“I loved that story when I was little, Mum used to read it to me every night” Jake stated with a warm smile recalling his memories, as he entered the home alongside Neytiri. I gesture to them ‘I see you’ and the kids quickly follow suit, as Jake and Neytiri sign back.

“Got into any trouble when we were gone (Y/n)?” Neytiri asked with a smirk on her face.

I gasp in mock horror. “Me Neytiri? Never” I said with my own smirk. “I was just telling the kids some of the stories from Earth.”

“Yes Mum! (Y/n) always has cool stories from the sky!” Tuktiery excitedly stated, yet stifling a yawn.

“Earth, baby. We came from Earth.” I correct.

“Yeah, Earth!” Tuk giggled.

“That was a wonderful story (Y/n), thank you for sharing it with us” Neteyam thanked with a warm smile and nod.

“No worries Neteyam, anytime.” I smile as I lean forward to ruffle his hair dragging a laugh from him.

“I think it’s time for bed, I think” Jake says as he watches Tuk drift in and out of sleep in my arm. This gets a hum of acknowledgement from Neytiri and I as we all move into bed. Jake gently pries Tuk from my arms as she settles quickly into her Father’s arms. Jake lays down in the middle, Neytiri to his right and me to the left. Kiri curls up by my side as Neteyam cuddles with his Mum and Spider wedges his way in-between Jake and I, that’s when Lo’ak decided to lounge across everyone gaining a groan from all of us.

“Lo’ak move your butt!” Spider groans and he kicks Lo’ak in the shin.

“Owwwww! Spider lay off!” Lo’ak wines yet doesn’t move an inch.

“Enough boys!” Jake scolds through his teeth, trying to keep Tuktiery asleep. That was enough to get Lo’ak to move and let poor Spider breathe.

“Sleep.” Neytiri states with her eyes shut.

I could only smile at Neytiri’s blunt parenting style.

“Sweet dreams everyone.” I murmur.

“Goodnight.” The Sully’s reply before we all fell into the embrace of sleep.

I would do anything to protect this family.

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alcestas-sloboda · 2 months

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I see so many reflections today from different people: someone woke up from the explosions, some from a phone call, some woke up and saw hundreds of notifications from different telegram channels. It is still so unimaginably bizarre. I have no ability to put into words the feeling of your world falling apart and we didn’t even understand half of the danger that was surrounding us. We were so damn close to disaster with half of Europe believing that nothing good will come out of it.

Ukrainians didn’t care what Europeans thought though, I personally saw news pieces about "Russia will take control of Kyiv" a lot later, somewhere in May, when Ukrainian military took control over the north of the country. And I’m so eternally grateful to every Ukrainian who made sure that all this "experts" sat in those flashy studios red from guilt. I’m grateful for my life, I’m grateful for our Ukraine. She persist. She is still the love of our lives. She’s hurt and devastated but she lives despite all the attempts to destroy her. Same as us. Somehow still here.

Yet I feel more detached from the western world than ever and I’m so fucking jealous of you all. It’s not even about the rockets or shakheds - somewhere along the lines you accept the fact that you may die in any moment - it’s about normal things like your Twitter feed that doesn’t look like a necrology, military terms that don’t make any sense to you, your city that doesn’t stop everyday to mourn the dead, you don’t feel guilty for trying to live a normal life while your classmate, who wanted to be a director, posts stories from the trenches. All of that and more. I’m not even entitled to my emotions because there always will be someone who says that my country is not suffering enough. I no longer react to comments like this as emotionally as I’ve done before but it is still so bizarre to see stuff like that from people whose countries have always been the one to inflict suffering on others.

I may sound mean or sarcastic or whatever but there is so much negativity inside of us that was put there by people like I’ve mentioned above that it is going to be released from time to time. "Your country shouldn’t exist", "Only 9 thousand killed", "You all are nazis/racist/zionists/any of the -ist terms" - yet you should always react in a constructive way because the moment you let your emotions go, you are the worst person on the planet. But who am I kidding, some people here do believe that we are. There is a thousand bad people with sketchy patches in a 40-million country and suddenly "That’s why I no longer support Ukraine". Well, honey, that means you never did. Because Syrian flags were quickly replaced with Ukrainian ones and just as quickly with Palestinian. It’s not about the "Support the oppressed", it’s "Anything to not feel guilty" because then you’ll find the reason to hate Palestinians, just as you did with us. If only you cared about the problematic shit happening in you country as much as you care about our political and social life.

But there are people who still are there for us. Countries that are still here. We may not say it as often but we are thankful. So very thankful for everything you’ve done and are doing for us. Thank you for hearing us and uplifting our voices.

Recently one of the most beautiful people here have lost her life defending me and you. She was always in my notes, always making sure that we didn’t feel uncomfortable even if she of all the people had all the right to be upfront about her thoughts and feelings. I don’t think I will ever get rid of the feeling of guilt. She was there while I wasn’t. She said to mourn her through anger. Anger towards the oppressor. Anger that should be directed into something useful: donations, sharing info, contacting your MPs and so on.

The soldier‘s death is not something out of ordinary during the war, it’s not considered a war crime but what if half of the army are civilians? Volunteers who left their homes to protect them. What if the soldier was a teacher, a poet, an actor, an IT-specialist, a scientist, what then? Isn’t it a tragedy? My country is loosing yet another generation of beautiful talented people and it makes my view of the future even darker.

But what can I say? I’m still here. My country still stands. Ukrainian air defence is doing everything possible and impossible to protect the lives of the civilians. Ukrainian military is still the only thing keeping us all alive. Heroes, titans, gods. Glory to them. Eternal glory to those who lost their lives defending Ukraine.

To Ukrainians: якось буде, прорвемся.

#reflection I guess

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that-ari-blogger · 4 months

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It's Time

Ok, this song. (This post might be a bit heavy)

Usually, near the end of a musical, there is a quiet, reflective number before the bombastic finale. This is often the final straw for a large percentage of the audience, who find themselves brought to tears by the rest of the story, and this just catalyses it.

Stray Gods: The Role-Playing Musical has two of such songs. Adrift Reprise, and It's Time. I have already done some analysis on the former of those, but It's Time, I left for last.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD

One of the strengths of Stray Gods is its connection. This is a story about a young adult trying to find her place and her purpose. She is adrift, with so many places to go, and she looks to her elders for advice. Surely, they have their lives figured out. Right? But no. I think Apollo says it best at Aphrodite's party.

"We get older, we have more to forget. We hold grudges longer. But wiser? No, not so far."

Stray Gods pulls on very real emotions in its audience, very few people in the audience know where they are going, or what their life will lead them to. So, the themes of fate and choice in this musical become more pertinent. You cannot know what your future will hold without it feeling like a burden, but you can make choices. Good or bad, you can always choose.

This is what the Adrift Reprise number is all about. But there is another almost universal experience that this story hits you with. An emotion that It's Time centres around. Loss.

The vast majority of humans have lost someone at someone close to them at some point in their lives. As you get older, the chance of this happening only increases. It's an unfortunate fact about being mortal. And here's the thing, in Stray Gods, mortality and immortality are not mutually exclusive.

Everyone in this story is mourning, either the loss of Calliope, or the old Hermes, or Hephestus, or the gods who have gone missing. These idols can live forever, but they can also not. The idols are humans, but more. More powerful, more magical, more experienced, but also more fragile, and more weak, and more weird.

Persephone's relationship with Calliope is subtle at first, but once you notice it, you see it everywhere. From the portrait of Calliope in Persephone's office, to the anger at her murder, to the immediate switch from avenger to protector the second she clocks on to Grace actually being Calliope's chosen successor.

So, when they finally meet in the underworld, this can either be an aha moment or a surprise, and either works.

"So many years of history,

The fights, the highs, the miseries,

I'm so proud of you, but it's time to go."

"I never truly saw before,

how trapped we were, how far from shore,

great at the time, but now it's time to go"

In a single verse, two stanzas, this song summarises what could possibly be a centuries long relationship. Tumultuous, but real. For all of their faults, there is a love there. You can see why the relationship broke down, and you know Persephone and Calliope well enough at this point to infer a few more details about that. But you also know that looking back, the connection is still there.

I also want to point out that nautical metaphor again. It links back to Adrift and gets referenced in just about every other song. But the difference now, is who it is aimed at. Usually, Grace is the one being called out for drowning in choices or something similar, but now its Persephone realising just how far out she is, and looking back on her relationship with Calliope, only now can she see where she went wrong. Maybe, if Calliope was still alive, she and this new Persephone could work things out. Now that Persephone isn't obsessing about that throne and can actually admit fault.

The tragedy is that we will probably never get to find out. Because Calliope is dead, and you can't change that.

But what about something you can change?

@ohnoitstbskyen has a phenomenal video titled Grief In Art, which I highly recommend you check out. In it, he gives the following summary of the emotion:

"Grief comes with anger, with emptiness. It comes with loneliness and exhaustion and a dozen other complex and multifaceted feelings that all intermix and grind against each other. That's part of why it can be so overwhelming."

I am willing to bet that this isn't a foreign concept to a large percentage of Stray Gods' audience.

So, tell me, if you were given the chance to bring back a lost loved one, would you take it? It's a complicated question. But if, right now, I told you I could bring back your mother or brother or friend, would you say yes? What price would be too steep? What is the value of a human life? How much would you give?

Personally, I would say yes. To me, every life is unquantifiable, and I would give anything for just a conversation with certain people.

But what about Grace? And what about Freddie?

There are two ways you can come at It's Time in the musical. Well, three actually, but we'll get there in a moment. You either are following the romance storyline with Freddie, or you are not. And from what I can tell, this song makes no distinction between the two. You bring your own baggage.

"It was quick and so was I,

I was not prepared to die.

But Grace, I choose this,

And I know you'll get by."

Do you bring Freddie back from the dead? It's possible, and you'd get your happy ending. You can, but should you? That much is up to you.

Actions have consequences, that's kind of the thesis of this story. One consequence of Grace's actions was the death of Freddie. You can undo that, if you want.

I have played through this game a fair few times at this point, and at this moment, I have gone through both options. If you were to approach this as a simple, numerical question, the answer would be obvious. There is no physical benefit in the game to either decision, so you should do what Freddie says and let her stay dead. The reason this is such a difficult choice is because of the humanity in it.

You know the right choice, to let Freddie stay dead, to not go against her wishes, to not give her the eidolon. Freddie says she is content with her decision, so you should go with that, right?

But are you strong enough to make that choice? I know I wasn't the first time I played this game.

There is one other element that complicates this, and it's fascinating to me. Because that third approach to this song is retrospect.

What if you have played this game before and brought Freddie back? Then you get Freddie's love confession, and it changes the entire story. It's prophecy, like Apollo warned us about. You know the fate you are trying to achieve, so you take actions against yourself to try and thwart it, essentially locking yourself in that path, whether you like it or not.

Does the promise of a happy ending change your choices here?

Final Thoughts

There is a reason I left this song until last. It's one of those songs in musical theatre that brings a tear to my eye every time I watch it or listen to it. The instruments, the melody, the fact that this is the only time Grace ever says "Farishta". Everything about this song is amazing.

Next week is my final roundup for Stray Gods, and as a quick reminder, I am putting out a request for your analysis, be it musical or artistic or lyrical. Send me a message, or comment, reblog this post, and I will try to include as many as I can (credited to you, naturally) in the final analysis to build a big picture of what everyone thinks of this musical.

So, stick around if that interests you.

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#rants #literary analysis #literature analysis #character analysis #what's so special about...?#stray gods #greek mythology #stray gods grace #stray gods game #stray gods the roleplaying musical #grace x freddie #stray gods spoilers #stray gods freddie #greddie #stray gods persephone #stray gods calliope

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songbirdseung · 5 months

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younger / choi beomgyu

song recommendation: younger by ruel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-- beomgyu's pov --

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-- later, beomgyu's pov --

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-- months later --

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-- beomgyu's pov --

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-- y/n's pov --

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

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

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

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

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

-- years later --

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-- the next day --

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#txt #tomorrow x together #txt beomgyu #beomgyu #choi beomgyu #beomgyu imagines #choi beomgyu fanfic #choi beomgyu x you #choi beomgyu fluff #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu txt #beomgyu x reader

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netherfeildren · 8 months

Text

Joel

A Fear of God story : Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC

Summary: The thought sounds on the anvil of your mind every night at four am on the dot, the song of grasshoppers and slumbering, fatherless children singing around you; I am lost, and if I read a little bit confusing, it is only because I am confused amidst the battleground of my grief, and it is difficult to find my way back now that he is not here to guide me.

A/N: this was only written for myself, but i’ve decided to share with you, as well. if you’re a fear of god reader please know that this isn’t part of my official story line, and again — only an exercise for myself, but as this is written about birdie i’ve decided to include it as a part of the birdie’s house anthology. i apologize for any confusion or emotional turmoil this might cause, but rest assured that i’m desperately hoping to have something else up for birdie and joel for his birthday and that i plan to continue to write for them after that as well.

Content Warnings: Character death; Grief/Mourning; Description of death/injury; Unreliable narrators

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2.1K

Read on AO3

JOEL

The billboard said “The End Is Near”

I turned around, there was nothing there

Yeah, I guess the end is here

Phoebe Bridgers, I Know the End

The week before it happened, you watched a pack of wolves take down a moose. Old and stalwart and with a sort of strength only an animal that stands apart from all others in the hierarchy of nature can hold. Something unrelenting about a creature like that, that was made all the more shocking for the way the wolves had surrounded the old thing, tricked and felled the beast that for so long had stood solitary and unmoving.

There were so many things you knew about Joel after all these years. He was a father, a husband, a brother, a friend. Once he’d been a monster. Everything about him had been red. He’d tried not to cause harm. He’d failed more than he’d succeeded.

He had loved you. You think, more than any creature had loved another in all of man’s history. Or… at least sometimes it had felt like that. He had made you feel like that.

He is killed in the seventh year of your life together. Only seven little years which seem like nothing in the face of everything. Nothing in the face of the destruction of the whole world, and then the rebirth of it right here in this farm house in Wyoming, but which you know, no matter what they might seem like in the aftermath, were really everything, the only time that has ever mattered.

You remember that sometimes when you’d look around the kitchen table, the girls sitting around laughing and screeching and raucous with so much joy it seemed imaginary and untouchable, it felt like the whole world was sat existing around that oak table he’d made for you. The whole world right here at our kitchen table, Joel.

You remember the last time you heard his voice, right before he went out into the frigid snow to look for Ellie: Don’t you love me, Birdie bird?

Oh, shut up. And then whispered right into the reddened sea shell of his ear, Here is what I see in your eyes right now: myself, reflected back at me – more love than has ever existed before in all history. And then his laugh – you’re laughing and when you laugh I want to carve the face of the world in your image. Lena zooming by your legs as you kiss for the last time, a blue ribbon in her hair.

Half a century from now, no one will remember us, but I will never forget you.

Remember the first time we met? Bated breath and racing heart, and the sound of the rest of your life ringing in your ears.

Remember the stitches in your palm? The first time I took you inside of me and all the times thereafter? When you pulled our first daughter from my body – and then the two others? Her first birthday? The countless birthdays after that? Remember the endless happiness so intense it was almost painful sometimes? Remember how much I love you?

But of course, he cannot. He’s not here anymore, and nothing hurts worse than the memory of joy when you’re living through grief. The thought sounds on the anvil of your mind every night at four am on the dot, the song of grasshoppers and slumbering, fatherless children singing around you; I am lost, and if I read a little bit confusing, it is only because I am confused amidst the battleground of my grief, and it is difficult to find my way back now that he is not here to guide me.

They’d hurt him so badly. Fractured him in a way that not even your hands could mend, your years of study and practice futile in the face of such destruction. He’d fought hard, he’d tried to get away. This is the least comforting thing you could ever imagine.

What does it do to a person to be confronted with the inequity of their purpose? To have worked tirelessly for so many years only to fail when the moment was most dire.

Fracture of a different but equally devastating nature. And that moment of final realization, that there was nothing to be done – his bones had carried him for so long, you rest now, we’ll be okay, whispered into his mangled ear, half a chunk missing, savaged. You did good, Joel. You did good, my love.

The sound of Ellie’s voice telling herself over and over and over again that he was okay; he’s okay, he’s okay, he’s okay.

And she’d said to you: I wasted so much time being angry at him, for what? For loving me too much? For keeping me alive? For making a decision that now, with the clarity of age and a child of my own, I would have made exactly the same way? I wish I could walk in his shoes through that hospital all those years ago. I’d take his exact same steps – not a single pace different. And now he’s dead. And all that anger was for nothing. And our reconciliation feels so fraught, so meaningless in the face of all that time now. No matter that we’d had years after to be together, to be a family. All I can focus on now is the time lost, the sight of his crushed skull, the night I pushed him away before you, his face full of pain and regret. And the sound of his screams at the end.

Ellie tells you: I remember the sound of his screams better than anything else. The sound of him screaming out for me, for you Birdie – Birdie, Birdie, my Birdie. Begging for help, but actually, I’m not sure, she says. I’m not sure if that really happened or if my nightmares imagined it.

[I still think of you on your birthday. I’m sorry for everything, she thinks, when she lays in the grass with her sisters and looks for shapes in the clouds without him now. I only see you in the spaces between them. And she asks God why He didn’t work harder to save him. And He spits in her face and asks why she didn’t do the same.]

So, there are still our children. There is still Ellie. This family you’ve gifted me. The whole world abandoned here at our kitchen table. How can death exist when that exists? How can your death exist when they’re still here?

Don’t stop to think. Don’t interrupt the scream.

And you tell yourself, no this wasn’t supposed to happen, but the universe laughs and grips you by the throat; the gladiator scream goes on. Salt the earth, there’s nothing to return to.

And yet… that isn’t true either. Four little faces look up at you. Three sets of his eyes.

You were furious at the sun the day after he died. How could it just continue to rise as if nothing had happened?

And after all that, it is like this: You scream for seven days and seven nights.

You don’t get out of bed for thirty days.

You cry every single night for a year.

This is different. A strange and terrified sort of place. What does it mean to lose the basis of your entire existence?

And Ellie? Ellie, Ellie, Ellie, Ellie, Ellie. What is Ellie going to do without him? How is she going to be okay? The sound of her cries: Don’t let me be alone. Please, God, don’t let me be alone. I never wanted to end up alone. You need to make sure she’s okay, you need to take care of her the way that he would, the way that he’d want you to.

Ellie loses her mind for a little bit. After your thirty days in bed, she calls her turn, tells you and Dina that she’s leaving, that she’s going. That she’ll bring you back a vengeance you could never want and lay it at your feet, and you cup her chin gentle in your palm, and ask, What does it matter now, honey? Connie’s voice ringing in your memory. He’s gone now, what difference would it make?

She tells you that he would have done it for her, and you cannot refute such a claim. He would. He’d do much worse. He’d turn himself back into that monster we both know he had inside of him.

“So I need to do this.”

And you tell her: “I’m begging you not to. Me, who belonged to him, who knew him in a way no one else in the whole world did. I’m asking you not to. I’m still here. The girls are still here. We need you. We need you as a reminder of him.”

“You’ll remember him anyways,” she tells you, which is true.

“But you’ll make the memory all the better,” And so she does not go, for a time.

Ellie stays, and you have a funeral surrounded by the people of Jackson who respected a man who was good. A man who took himself for a monster for so long, even though he never said it out loud, but you knew, you saw. All that time apart, all that fear, fear, fear, the very fear of God struck into his heart, afraid of what he was, of what the world and a little girl with green eyes more than thirty years ago had made him into, but then, look at what we’d turned around and made together.

And you whisper to the apparition of him in your dreams: Joel if you were a monster, surely it was some sort of divine monstrosity.

So many people leave remembrances at the gate of the farm, the whole of Jackson. His brother, holding you up gripped beneath the elbows so as to not frighten your children, and Ellie is crying but trying to pretend she’s not, which somehow makes it worse than if she were to throw herself at the base of his coffin and howl.

You give her his jacket after that, and she smells like him all the time until the day she doesn't. Until the day it’s been so long since the last time that he was alive that his scent fades and leaves forever. She wears that jacket everywhere, to work, to hunt, to bed. Leaving her wife, leaving her family, leaving her sisters, leaving you because eventually she does – leave, and she wears his jacket. An inevitability like so many other things in life, you’re unable to keep her forever, and for a time she does go.

And you will never forget him, you will never move on, you will never stop telling your daughters about him. He lives on in them. And you wonder why it is that no one ever talks about the physically intimate aspect of grief? Of missing your person and wanting them and needing them, and your body physically craving relief from that singular person and never being able to achieve it fully ever again to completion like he could give it to you because he’s just not here.

He was, in every way, all that anyone could ever be.

I cried every single day for a year. The day I stopped, I put him inside of a drawer within myself and was never able to move myself to tears again.

Seven years since then, and you go to his grave for what you tell yourself will be the last time, recognize the lie for what it is, a single slab of carved stone, and you think, he doesn’t belong here, even still after all these years, and yet this is the only place he will ever be again.

He should have been made into a redwood, the tallest thing in the entire world. Let him be a tree. You’d climb and climb and climb, like that night with Beth, so long ago you can barely remember the sound of her voice most days. You’d climb, and he’d protect you one more time like he had so many times before.

Joel, years ago, when we were first married, I had a strange dream: I’d had to walk down a staircase that led far beneath the earth. As I traversed it, I had to move through all of our happiest memories, the births of our daughters, the birthdays and celebrations and the long nights together, dinners, breakfasts and laughter, lazy afternoons at the lake, in bed together, still endlessly fascinated with each other despite all the times we’d found ourselves in that exact position. But when I reached the end, I’d be able to come upon our worst moment, see what it was in preparation, perhaps, for what would come to pass.

I feel as though I have finally reached the bottom of that staircase, and part of me would like nothing more than to have never begun the journey down, but had I not, then I would have not lived through all the rest of it. And in the end, that was worth everything else.

That last night again, in my memory: Don’t you love me, Birdie bird?

Close your eyes, he whispers, it’ll be worth it, the last taste of his mouth.

My eyes are still closed.

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

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#FoG fic #Joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x original character #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction #character study #ellie williams #joel miller character study #ellie williams character study

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chrollohearttags · 1 year

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“I can hear my dead homies sing, now my eyes always hurting..wiping tears with diamond rings…”

I haven’t written angst in a long time because honestly, I’m a crybaby bitch that can’t handle it but I had to do one for my favorite pairing and challenge myself for once. Please don’t hate me too much!

tw: s*icide, angst (obv), reflections of eren’s past life prior to (y/n), drug/alcohol abuse and addiction, depression, s*xual harassment, mentions of death, breakup, gun violence

📝: read this at your own risk. I’m just trying to test myself and step outside of the box a bit.

we’re all aware of the dark side of the music industry..the pressures and struggles that come with fame. Behind our favorite celebrities; singers, rappers and actors alike are a world of struggle or pain that led them to create the art they put on display for us to see..at some point or another, there are battles they fight everyday that us as average fans aren’t aware of. Not that we’re owed any obligation to them outside of the public space, but we can’t help but worry. This all rings true for rapper and renowned artist Eren Jaeger, EJ The Don..whatever you choose to call him.

No matter how many loving, adoring fans screamed his name, friends he kept by his side, women he hooked up with and chains he purchased, it could never drown out the pain that plagued his heart. “You’ve traveled the world..seen it all and performed in front of millions. You’re one of the world’s most famous rappers and most respected producers in the game. At this point in your career, is there anything that you look back on and say ‘I regret this’ or ‘I wish that hadn’t happened’…are you happy?” the question shot to him by an interviewer sitting adjacent..a single camera lens focused in on his face in front a clear white background. In a very rare exclusive, the artist sat down with XXL to reflect on his early come up and what they could expect in the future. A loaded question he wasn’t quite ready to answer yet..still, those infamous green eyes; glossed over by the euphoria of marijuana and covered by designer shades, brown hair tucked behind his ear as he released a sigh. At this point in the game, he’d be considered a legend despite his rather young age of only twenty eight years old. An amazing feat considering that many of his peers hadn’t even made it to see that. What was even more so sad..most of the ones coming along today weren’t even twenty one before they were snuffed out. It was something he struggled and toiled with often…’are you happy?’ how could he possibly answer that truthfully when he had sat in the same room with his homies..one moment popping Xans as they recorded their next single and the next, shaking them as they seized up, overdosing on the pills before passing away?

How could he ever be happy when he had to go hug the mothers and hand out flowers to the wives of his friends who lost their lives to gun violence, simply because they decided to come back to their city after making it big? To tell their kids that daddy wasn’t coming home…something he often times feared for his own. He was a husband now and inevitably would become a father. Truth was, he had become jaded. Worn down and tired out by industry politics..it was exactly why his circle was small enough to count on one hand now. Why he was afraid to get close to anyone. Paranoid that he’d become the next victim of a setup, leaving his family, friends and fans to grieve and mourn..it was that paranoia that had him hurled over a toilet, throwing up after downing lean to drown out his hurt. To hear the constant voices that never quite went away, ringing in his head. Whether it was the delusions of his dead friends, comments made by some random who swore they knew his life; plagued by the memories of being coerced into sex before he was old enough to buy alcohol from women who had no business with him, but knew he wanted to make it big or his subconscious saying to end it all..that he’d no longer feel guilt, sadness, anger…all of the emotions that kept him up at night. The ones that refused to let him sleep and nearly made him do something stupid. Lying next to his beloved (y/n) as you dozed peacefully..the many of nights he contemplated leaving because he’d never want to bare you with the burden or trauma of finding his body because he followed in the footsteps of his fallen brothers. He loved you so much that he couldn’t ever dream of causing you that type of pain. You’d never understand what he felt and he didn’t want you to..he wanted you to remain blissfully ignorant to what went through his mind. But when he stood on the balcony leading out of your shared bedroom..glaring aimlessly to the ground below, he wanted to put a stop to it all. That was until he felt the gentle touch of your hand spreading across his bare chest..arm wrapping around his torso with your head pressed to his back. Entangled in your warm embrace and love, like a wilting rose trapped within its vines trying to save it. Hearing you whisper in the faintest voice.. “it’s okay, I’m here..you don’t have to do it alone.” It was then that he realized, you knew. You knew his pain, his sorrow and still, you remained..ready to carry those burdens with him. Turning around to sob into your shoulder and apologize as you both sank to your knees and you held him close. Having that safe space to fall apart and be pieced back together by the love of his life…it was then that he could finally..truthfully answer:

“Yeah..I’m happy.”

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kiashie · 6 months

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Clive/Gav headcanons/rambles/???

remembering i can post whatever i want once again so i'm posting some clive/gav headcanons since i was talking to a friend about our desires for character study slowburn but also our lamentations that we are not fic writers. and how barely anybody else is talking about this ship. so here's the compiled thoughts i've had. (there's more of them than i thought)

(gripping you) think about it with me :) (writers feel free to steal these thoughts as ammunition)

______________________________________________________________

It's very 'Gav falls first, Clive falls harder'. Gav's got eyes, he see's what we all see and as he sees the kind of man Clive is and he's gonna fall deeper. and he also may think he's out of Clive's league. - Clive's got enough self resentment that he isn't even sure he's allowed to love again. the subject of 'loving somebody' is likely barely on the table in his mind yet after 13 years of spite and revenge, he still needs to catch up. Jill may put it on the table as it was maybe something they once felt, or something they were once expected to have; but they're different people now, trying to find themselves in their new space to do so. And during that time Gav is waiting for that 'will they wont they' to unfold.

Clive has spent a lot of time having to be physically violent against his will, so i think he enjoys getting to actually touch people affectionately for once - which we see for ourselves flusters Gav. as Gav grows accustomed to and even reciprocating of it (Gav having his growing crush and deciding to take what he can get) Clive's very glad with how comfortable he can be around Gav without consciously thinking too hard about it. along with how much i think Clive respects and admires Gav for everything he does, he's glad to continue being physically affectionate to show his appreciation.

Clive reflects on how for 13 years he had nothing to sincerely smile for while stuck as a hateful miserable soldier, and even before then under his mother they were few and far between. and as he's finding his footing for the first time in forever this funny breath of fresh air comes along and suddenly he's smiling. often even. And he can't even remember the last time his smile felt real. The last time he laughed so hard, eventually to the point where it's hard enough to make his chest hurt. that he doesn't quite feel like he's drowning.

he tries not to think too hard when Gav gets either giddy or flustered when he's praised lest the word "cute" fill his head. How he thinks Gav deserves all those kind words every time.

He and Gav have had their quiet moments over the years of the timeskip, and maybe somewhere earlier in the timeline than what happens in the game before joshua's returned, Gav's brings up earlier; "i never got to be a big brother" - losing his family in one night - and instead him relating to Clive on the feeling of failing to protect and save a younger sibling. in that vulnerable moment maybe Gav musters up asking 'was being a big brother nice? atleast for a little while?'. and they can mourn together the lost chances, pressure, and pride.

Along the way Clive picks up that Gav's jokes are how he gets by with the darker thoughts, the self doubts, the feeling of not being enough. and he comes to appreciate the Gav that isn't just trying to make him laugh or ease up, the Gav that is also struggling, that makes reminding him he's special continue to mean more to him. when he wants to be the one that also makes Gav smile and laugh and be happy to be alive in return

Gav's a man who's never been good at fancy words, and suddenly he wants to be a poet because he needs a way to describe the feelings he has. As he lets Clive see all his doubts and flaws but never being shamed for it, continuing to be treated by Clive's kindness, he cherishes feeling legitimately seen and cared for despite his weakness. and he feels like the most honoured man alive whenever Clive confides his struggles in him more and more too

everybody has been watching these two insufferably pine, Gav being more self aware and self concious, while Clive not even figuring out his own feelings yet for so long doesn't realize that he's obvious to everyone else :)

When Clive finally puts all the points together, being struck with the realization he's in love. the subsequent question "oh fuck is that allowed", and is laying in that bed hands in his hair staring wide eyed at the ceiling utterly stricken. But Clive, always the driven man, will eventually resolve to let Gav know, because he thinks Gav deserves that much. to let him know how grateful he is to know how to love someone - him - like this.

a leader and his scout to guide eachother :)

#ffxvi #ff16 #clive rosfield #gav ffxvi #clive/gav #clive x gav #firescout #scoutlaw #headcanons #? i guess?#ff16 spoilers #ffxvi spoilers #kia rambles

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autumnslance · 23 days

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send LOST for a scene from my muse's past in which they felt lost, literally or figuratively {Zaine}

He was supposed to protect her.

Zaine's axe and armor, Evienne's spells and social acumen. They were a matched set of opposites, a team that had traversed the realm for months now. That's how it worked.

On reflection, he really hadn't known her that long; less than a year. Yet everything they had gone through made it feel much longer, or at least more intense. They had shared their histories, their hopes, more than a few secrets.

Never a bed, though; as much as he'd come to love her, it was not in that way. And she was still mourning the loss of her spouse, besides. So fierce friends and comrades they were.

...They had been.

Zaine was going to tear Gaius van Baelsar into pieces.

"Hey," Yda said, wandering over to sit with him.

"Hey," he replied, taking a deep breath and sitting up. "You doing all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. How--"

"How about Papalymo? And Thancred?"

She frowned. "They're all right, Zaine. Everyone is."

Not everyone.

Before he could say more, she stuck her finger against his lips. "How are you?" she demanded to know, glimpses of her blue eyes through the mask showing her own sadness and resolve. She removed her finger.

Zaine slumped. "I keep feeling like I did everything wrong. Missed something, forgot something. If I'd been a little more on guard--and I know, I know that's not how it works, I know you all rushed cuz you only found out too late, but I--" He rested his head in his hands, clutching his hair.

"I feel like 'it's not your fault' won't help, huh?"

He huffed out a bitter laugh. "No." They were silent for a moment. "I know he targeted her as a caster, as a threat. Even if I had been in her place, even if I had been on guard. And I know...Evienne chose this, same as the rest of us, but it...Gods, this hurts."

"Of course it does," Yda replied softly. "It will for a long while."

He sat back now, leaning on the wall behind him, Yda watching. "If I knew anything of Eorzean etiquette as a boy, I forgot it. Evienne, though...she had impeccable manners. And took it upon herself to teach me better. My rough soldier ways grated on her lady's sensibilities." He smiled thinly. "I don't think I'd have made half as good an impression on all those people without her. And nevermind how many of her own heroics have been overlooked. It's not fair."

"A lot of things aren't," Yda said. "Minfilia's speaking to her sister, and her son. He's so little."

"Yeah," Zaine said. "Not much older than my sister was, when we lost our father. This kid's lost both his parents now and I don't...I feel like I should say something, but what? 'I was your mum's partner but failed to protect her from a Garlean bullet'?"

"Zaine, you can't say that."

"No, of course not, I just," he pinched his nose, trying to stay the renewed feeling of prickling heat in his eyes, threatening another deluge. "I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do. She would know; that's what she was good at! It's all her clever words and maneuvering that's made me seem a hero; people think I know what I'm doing, but I don't. And there's still so much happening, no time to sit here and wallow, but Sisters help me, I don't know how I'm going to do it without her!"

The tears fell despite his attempts; guilt and shame as much as grief pouring from him. Yda was silent, simply holding his hand, squeezing tightly, a reminder he had more friends and allies, more people to help, to rely on.

Just not his companion.

((As the 1.0 WoL, Zaine traveled around with a Path Companion, who I decided was a prim & proper elezen conjurer named Evienne. There is, however, a famous scene where Gaius shoots the Path Companion, and then fights Thancred, Y'shtola, Papalymo, and Yda. In Zaine's continuity, his Path Companion dies from the injuries inflicted in that incident.))

#final fantasy xiv #Lyn Writing #1.0 #Legacy #Backstory #Path of the Twelve #Path Companion #Yda Hext #Zaine Striker #Grief

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princeescaluswords · 20 days

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I've been thinking about Munroe and wondering what about season 6 could have been different if her supernatural trauma was related to the nogitsune and the oni instead like in the hospital attack. I think it would be make her hatred of the pack a bit more compelling because they, especially Scott, actually did choose to save and protect Stiles regardless of the danger to other people and they could do something interesting with Scott and Stiles' guilt over it all. I also feel like it would be more believable for her to have supporters if they were other survivors who saw what they thought was the sheriff's son do something terrible and then have it completely covered up.

Do you think that's something that would have worked? How do you think it would have played out?

I think that your musings are inadvertently neglecting a very key part of Tamora Monroe's story. Unless I am mistaken (and feel free to correct me if I am) you're arguing that if her trauma had been directly connected to something the pack chose to do rather than something that they failed to stop, it would have made more of an impact. I agree that it would have certainly made her hostility toward the pack more personal.

However, I consider the fact that it wasn't due to a specific decision is vitally important dimension to her story. As usual, I'm going to preface my remarks by making it clear that Monroe is a villain, and my exploration of her motivations should not be taken as approval of her actions in any way.

To me, the central premise to Tamora Monroe's story isn't that she experienced trauma. A lot of people in the show experienced trauma and reacted to it in ways both good and bad. No, Monroe's fury arises from the way the main characters reacted to her trauma. She may have completely recovered from the damage the Beast did to her. She may have mourned the friends she lost on that school bus. What she can't accept is how unimportant the reaction made her seem. Something terrible happened to her but it was a side effect, a background detail to a trap made by a monster for others she saw as monsters.

In a bit of clever meta-narrative (with a bit of clear social commentary thrown in), Monroe existed as a minor victim, an extra designed, as T. S. Eliot put it, "to swell a scene or two." Her words to Corey in Said the Spider to the Fly (6x11) establish not only things about Corey's character but also hers.

Tamora: Look, I understand the need to keep up, to be recognized or noticed. Everybody feels invisible sometimes.

What Monroe went through wasn't given any importance. The bodies in the school bus were bait and afterwards, they were carted away never to be mentioned or dealt with again. If she hadn't survived, no one would have given her a second thought.

But she did survive, and even though she did, she still wasn't given enough importance -- enough value -- to be told what really happened to her. She figured it out on her own, and that is where her anger comes from. Her life didn't matter. That type of dismissal can be enraging, and she takes out that rage on those who she sees as acting that way in Raw Talent (6x12).

Monroe: I'm sorry. I should've told you. It's wolfsbane.

When I first heard that line, I was confused. Why would she say that to a werewolf she was hunting? However, it's clear on reflection that this line speaks directly to her motivation. Wolfsbane is dangerous to werewolves, so she should have told Brett that there was wolfsbane in the lacrosse ball, just as the Beast was dangerous to her, and she should have been told about the Beast. She is claiming an eye for an eye.

Her speech to the Sheriff in Werewolves of London (6x17) is also worth analyzing.

Monroe: Understand each other. Do you wanna know what I understand, Sheriff? Do you wanna know what I see in your little show and tell?

She speaks passionately because this is what should have happened way back after she survived the Beast. She should have been allowed to understand what was happening. She should have been listened to, but she didn't have any power. Only now, when she has power, are the people responsible willing to talk. She'll say that exact thing to Scott in After Images (6x13). Now that they're listening, she's going to do the talking.

Monroe: I see a sheriff unable to control the violence in his own county. A county he's sworn to protect. I see the same sheriff in way over his head. And not ready to believe the truth that's been staring him in the face for years.

It's clear that she thought she feels that people like the Sheriff were operating under false premises. They were supposed to keep the monsters away from people who couldn't protect themselves.

Monroe: I was told I was the victim of a wild animal attack. A bear. I was lied to. You lied to protect them over us.

The attack itself doesn't matter as much as the disregard. She was treated as a second-class citizen as opposed to monsters who can heal from stab wounds in a matter of minutes and grow claws and fangs at will. She was made to feel invisible, powerless, and unimportant.

Until she wasn't. Until she had enough power and enough followers to make them treat her differently.

So, what pushed her into become the woman who callously ordered Edgar the Werecoyote disposed of as trash? Well, she wouldn't be the first woman in Teen Wolf manipulated and used by a particularly selfish man to further his own ends.

Gerard: Someone who has been doing this a lot longer than you, but also someone who recognizes raw talent when he sees it.

Gerard had obviously been studying Monroe and figured out what I argue up above. It's not the wounds, it's the lies. It's the ignorance. Notice how many times during Season 6B Gerard emphasizes Monroe's importance or emphasizes how much she needs to learn, or emphasizes that this is what happens when the supernatural is unchecked. He's honed in on her psychology and uses her as a tactical advantage, one he's more than willing to discard once she's outlived her usefulness. Just as he did with Kate. Just as he did with Allison back in Season 2. It's the same thing -- take their feelings and twist them into action.

Monroe fit into Teen Wolf perfectly.

#tamora monroe #sheriff stilinski #gerard argent #teen wolf meta

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randomwriteronline · 21 days

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The sound of waves is the only thing keeping the silence from clamping its sharp jaws upon them, chewing them to bits. The water sloshing softly against the cave's small underwater opening continues its perpetual motion blissfully oblivious to the thoughts that weigh heavy on eleven minds.

The words of their previous conversation dangle in the air like knives held by rotting ropes.

Maybe, if none of them speak, everything will dissipate.

Maybe everything will go and just undo itself.

Maybe everything will be normal again.

Quiet.

"I can't," Hewkii croaks.

Takanuva's fingers keep ghosting over his pained wrists, expression vacant, breathing imperceptibly, almost shell-shocked; his ankles are similarly wounded. Jaller and Nuparu flank him, working to at least somewhat fix the dents in the once constricted joints to give their friend a little physical relief, but they're distracted.

"I can't," Hewkii repeats, and his face disappears in his hands. "I can't fight him."

"None of us want to," Onua's voice rumbles kindly.

Lewa is trying to wrap around all five of his remaining siblings simultaneously after having pulled Kongu in close in an attempt to stop himself from shaking too hard. The former captain of the Gukko Force has not complained about it.

"I can't," Hewkii insists: "I can't, I can't..."

"None of us want to," Gali assures him softly.

"He's my brother," the Toa of Stone sobs. One of Hahli's fins carefully lays on his back. "He leaped in to save Hafu from the Tahnok, and he helped us escape when we were sieged, and he promised he would make me feel better when I was sick from the Comets and defeated the Nui-Jaga with Takanuva, and he - he - I can't, I can't..."

"None of us want to." Tahu says.

"You don't understand," red eyes rise to meet theirs, shining with an almost liquid sheen: "I am his little brother. He looked me in the eyes and promised he would protect me with his life. I can't fight him. Even if I tried, even if I wanted to more than anything, even if I could manage to disown him, I could never fight him. I wouldn't manage to lay a finger on him. He's... He's still Pohatu. He's still Pohatu, so I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't..."

His voice quiets, quiets, quiets, until his heartbroken rambles are drowned by the calm waves as he trembles balled up on himself.

Takanuva continues to stare vacantly at the ground.

They both look so vulnerable, like this.

So lost.

"It's not him," Jaller says. His tone lacks confidence. He turns to Tahu: "It's not really him, isn't it? It's a mimic of sorts."

Tahu does not answer.

Gali picks up the words his closed up throat can't let out with a slow, mournful shake of her head: "Mimics cannot copy memories."

"Then he's mindcontrolled," Kongu's voice is muffled by the armor of his Air brother. His position isn't the most comfortable, but he does not move to face the other Toa. "Like us under the krana, or when Takadox eyestares and braincleanses catchpreys or foolallies. Makuta is evercrafty - I'd be nonesurprised if he could do that."

Lewa's hold on him tightens only a little. Talking eludes him, but his message is clear: He wasn't. He couldn't be. I know how it feels, how it looks in someone's mind, how it reflects in their bodies; I did not see that in him.

"He still has plenty of kraata," Hahli intervenes mildly, without conviction, "He could have..."

"His mask was unmarred," Onua cuts her off - although her voice was already trailing into silence again, already fully doubting her own hopeful hypothesis.

"Antidermis, then," Nuparu offers. He is still working on Takanuva's ankle, or at least trying to. Effectively, all he's done for the past few minutes is stare at it, at the deep bruises the stone constrictions have left to make sure he could not escape even if he'd come to before the tide did (which is what happened, as Hewkii recalled hearing the now eerily silent Toa of Light's screams for help before he even found the cave's entrance). "We saw with the Zamor spheres. He's gaseous. He could have slipped in at some point. Maybe after the first time you fought. Worked his way into his head slowly."

Silence.

"We did leave him." Tahu murmurs. His soft voice sounds so awfully loud in the quiet when he corrects himself: "I did leave him, when I thought we would have had no time to go after him."

Hewkii's sobs continue to melt in the waves.

Takanuva remains perfectly immoble.

It would make it so much easier if it wasn't Pohatu.

It would explain everything so well, so painlessly. It would make all of it a lie, a ploy, yet another unnecessarily cruel scheme Teridax has orchestrated in the nick of time, another plot to beat them down: replacing their brother, so comfortably warm, with a cold imperfect hateful replica.

It would let them hold out hope that the real Pohatu is out there, maybe dead, hopefully alive, and that he is struggling but resisting just like they are; and with that conviction they would be able to leave this hiding place and fight off his doppelganger.

It would make every single word he said a dastardly attempt at destroying their spirit. Falsehoods constructed to hurt with a semblance of truth that cannot be real.

It would make his anger less genuine, his devotion less agonizing, his bitterness less cancerous.

But it is Pohatu.

It always was.

They know it.

None of them want to fight him.

None of them want to hurt him.

Kopaka stands with great difficulty, rising slowly to his feet.

"I'll bring him back."

"Don't start this," Gali snaps angrier than she wants to be, pleading eyes churning like whirlpools dragging ships to the bottom of the sea: "Please, Mata Nui protect us, do not start this."

"I will."

"Don't," Lewa calls for him with a thin voice, the first thing he's managed to say in hours: "Don't go."

"It is my own fault any of this was allowed to happen. I will fix it."

"Your own fault?" Tahu speaks. Fire builds up in his throat as his volume rises: "Your own fault?"

"If I hadn't conveyed the situation so badly, he would be here now."

"Then it's his own fault for not letting you explain!" his Fire brother roars, jumping upright, armor glowing hot with anger, sizzling, steaming, singing the muscles beneath it.

His younger siblings pull themselves back.

His sister snarls his name in a warning tone.

His Air brother wraps tighter around Kongu.

Onua watches.

The Toa of Fire continues his rampage, stepping all the way up to Kopaka's mask until their chests almost touch, and the difference in temperature between their rapidly cooling and heating bodies almost causes strings of steam to erupt from them: "Or for not dying in the storm, or for deciding to remain with the Makuta, or for trusting them because they welcomed him, or for falling for whatever Teridax did to him because he was alone and vulnerable, or for figuring out something was amiss! Or maybe it's their fault for not doing the same!" and his hand points at the other three Mata before going back to his heartlight: "It's my fault for not telling any of them! It's our fault for deciding to keep this to ourselves! It's our fault, all six of us, for not being able to work as a team! Or maybe it's Helryx's fault for not telling everything to all of us herself, Hydraxon's fault for raising us as he did, the Order's fault for being so secretive, Artakha's fault for making us, Mata Nui's fault for needing us to be made in the first place! Maybe it's even the Great Beings' fault somehow!"

His Ice brother stares him down, brows furrowed, mouth scowling, and for a split second everybody is back on Mata Nui on those first days of their second life and they're going to bring out their swords and try to cleave each other in half.

But Tahu slightly deflates as he breathes hard and tilts his head to better meet the other's eyes when he averts them.

"It's either nobody's fault or everybody's fault," he says with a growl in his voice but no aggression: "There are too many steps that led to where we are now to pin the blame on only one person."

Kopaka does not reply.

He clenches his hand hard; then releases it.

"I won't hurt him."

"I know that. But he is going to hurt you, because he wants to. And you won't manage to defend yourself, because none of us can."

It's the truth.

They all know it's the truth.

Because despite everything that being is still Pohatu, and they love him more than he may hate them.

Even the waves are quiet now.

They're all at a stall.

Softly, very softly, it's Takanuva who breaks the silence.

"When the darkness was taking over me, and I was mad with anger," he says slowly, hands still ghosting over his bruises, "Kopaka stopped me - he spoke to me, forced me to calm down and return to my senses. And Lewa once confided that, when he was almost made delirious by the krana's voices, it was Kopaka who managed to soothe him and send them away."

He raises his shining eyes to his two older brothers.

Maskless and still painfully numbed as he is, he looks so tired.

So small, despite his height.

Jaller gently wraps a hand around his arm as if to steady him. It seems to work - at least a little, as Takanuva shuffles imperceptibly in his seat.

"And when... Against the Bohrok-kal, the Vahi..." he speaks quietly, gaze locked onto Tahu's: "I could see. Through Gali, I could see. They were all trying to reach out to you, but the only voice that stirred you was Kopaka's."

He hushes again.

There is no need to make his argument explicit: it's not hard to read through the lines he draws with an unsteady hand.

The Toa Mata of Fire sighs deeply, eyes closed before he looks to the ground in a grim kind of agreement; his siblings make no sound, but do the same.

The Toa Mahri remain as they are, curled on the ground like Matoran - eager to do something for them, to be of help, any help, but unable to provide it, just like Matoran. Their size, weapons, masks and elemental powers feel useless, pointless, their steadfast heroism vain as their determination crumbles beneath an indescribable fear.

They hate their paralysis. They hate it, and they want to break out of it, they need to break out of it.

But to do so is to stand before their brother who smiled at them so fondly like they were his whole world once, when they were small and so much weaker, and they know they cannot do that.

Takanuva inhales a shaky breath.

He feels like he has done nothing but being saved, even now.

His wrists and ankles flare up with pain as something deep and uncomfortable twists and turns in his chest, like a dozen leeches squirming within it.

Pohatu still loves him.

What Hewkii said... How he tried to bargain with Makuta to let him live... Pohatu still loves him.

Maybe he just had a moment of weakness. Maybe he was so shaken that Teridax managed to worm himself in his brain and convince him, and that's why he...

Maybe - maybe, if he can stop panicking, he can finall save someone.

Maybe he can finally, properly help.

His voice trembles a little: "I will come with you."

"No." Kopaka shuts him down immediately. "I cannot ask you to and I do not want you to."

His hand is almost soft as it sits for a moment on Takanuva's head, apologizing silently for his harsh tone; its gentle chill pulsing against the protodermis skull distracts the Toa of Light from his thoughts and insecurity and phantom pains for a while, barely a few seconds, but it's enough to make it all hurt a little less.

He knows he couldn't have helped him anyways.

Not while he's like this.

The Toa of Ice breathes.

He faces his siblings, solemn: "I will bring him back," he promises.

"Those are loaded words," Onua only says softly.

All eyes turn to him.

He does not move yet, for a short time: he times the length of his exhales and inhales, steadying his heartlight and mind before his own thoughts crush them both with their weight.

At last his green gaze rises until it locks onto Kopaka's blue irises.

"I need you to promise us something," he speaks slowly, carefully. "In place of your own vow."

The following silence awaits his request.

"Promise to bring yourself back."

No answer.

His Ice brother's momentary confusion clears in the blink of an eye; his shoulder freeze slightly, his jaw sets itself a little tighter.

Onua begins another sentence, but stops himself. His eyelids fall to allow him the respite of a tunnel's lack of light after a terrible day beneath the blinding sun, so that he may be able to construct himself properly before he falls apart.

"If millenia of hatred and bitterness have taken Pohatu so far from us that we cannot hope to reach him anymore," he finally continues, ever so slow, ever so careful, "We will have to accept as much, as painful as it may be to do so, and mourn him as loudly as we would any fallen sibling. But I do not think any of us could bear to lose two brothers at once."

No other Toa speaks.

The waves keep rocking quietly.

Hewkii has hushed in his sister's hold.

"I will do everything I can," Kopaka promises.

"That is not what I asked of you," Onua replies.

His eyes are so very soft.

So very tired.

"Promise you will come back," he begs him. "With or without Pohatu."

His brother stiffens.

Eighteen eyes stare at him.

Pleading him without words.

Thery can only survive so much grief.

His heartlight pulses as he struggles to breathe deeply.

He walks to Hewkii, kneels before him; it's not quite a hug what he gives him, but it's close enough, just as gentle, and not that cold.

Kopaka sinks into the waters as his armor shifts accordingly.

After he's gone, the waves return to their soft motion.

(the examples of Kopaka being weirdly good at calming troubled minds are taken from this post by @whiteheartlight, which periodically peeks through my memories like a whale through the waves and makes me look out the window thoughtfully)

#bionicle #hewkii #jaller #takanuva #hahli #kongu #tahu #gali #lewa #onua #kopaka #random writing #orpiment au #hello my beautiful children. time to suffer

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