#it's like remembering your childhood that you know will never return and realizing the memories are slowly fading away

[gierosajie]

Ngl, the area around King Deshret's mausoleum has similar vibes to the Dainichi Mikoshi, especially during the Three Realms event

I feel like the harsh lighting has something to do with it, not to mention the heartwrenching music that feels sad in a tragic way adding to that lonely feeling. The environment changes so much that it feels like witnessing the end of the world, desolate and alone.

[plutolovesyou]

Where the Mulberry Tree Stands

before you read ▪︎ my masterlist

☆: my rewrite of the myth of pyramus and thisbe. ♡ but with ellie as pyramus, & reader as thisbe. i realize this is very niche, but i wanted to try something new! absolutely adore mythology of all kinds, so basically wrote this for myself. if you do read, hope you enjoy! well, as much as you're able to...photomode creds—astralnymphh on pinterest.

◇: reader discretion is advised!! please do not read if sensitive to heavy angst with a tragic end, descriptions of suicide & brief mentions of parental abuse. also contains flowery writing and references to figures/things in ancient greece (which i pray are accurate...) ++ 4k wc

“The gods envy us. They envy us because we're mortal, because any moment may be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we are doomed.” — Homer, The Iliad.

Tap tap tap, three raps on the plaster wall in double time signaled to her on the other side that your meeting time had arrived. Tap tap tap, and she returned it with a flourish at the end, a new arrangement every day, so you knew to escape into the night.

Ellie—who was named after and nothing short of the embodiment of light itself—your lover, your soulmate, your other half lived just there. But generations upon generations of family tension forbade you two from living your dreams. Decades of battles for who had better quality fruit, sweeter honey, more drachmae, which family was favored by the citizens in the area—it all felt trivial, and frankly silly, when you thought about how much she meant to you in comparison to all that.

You had memories of early childhood, kneeling on the scratchy straw of the floor, while your mother berated you for spending time with the girl. “What were you thinking? I will not have my child associating with dishonorable likes such as them, you have disappointed me greatly. If I catch you over there one more time, by gods I will feed you to the wolves with my own two hands. Try it, one more time and you'll see what will fall upon you.” The way her voice shook with emotion was harrowing, you've never seen your mother in such a rageful, infuriated state, you could have sworn she was emulating the anger of a gorgon, and you remember the slap across your face that quickly followed her outburst, how it burned.

Yet through all the lectures and beatings, you never understood where she was coming from. Shouldn't bonds—strong and robust as if they were forged on Hephaestus’ anvil—come above all material things? You thought so at least. And she agreed. When you matured, you pitied your family for missing out on such experiences. “They will never know how lucky we are.” You would whisper in your lover's ear, whenever she fell asleep on you during your beloved nightly outings.

Every time you laid eyes on her, it was like you fell in love all over again. Her olive eyes shining, grin lighting up her entire face, husky giggles filling the air as she bolted to tackle you in a tight embrace. You two spun in each other's arms, nearly tripping over the low wooden fence marking your shared property. It only earned a laugh—when you were with her, any negativity was completely erased, as if it never existed in the first place. All stresses, worries, cares in the world simply vaporized into the air, and the only emotion you knew was adoration.

You two skipped hand-in-hand to your favorite spot by the river, where the air cooled and the grass was dotted with baby blue flowers. You toppled over, falling to a heap on the ground. Moist smacks of her lips all over your face while she cradled your jaw tenderly, every reunion with her felt like it was multiple lifetimes apart. Your breathing synced as you sat together in silence, enjoying each other's company.

Soon after you sat down though, unexpectedly, Ellie began with a wobbly voice, tears welling up in her eyes, “I love you so much, can't stand to be apart from you. This is torture, sometimes I can’t bear to wait for the sun to set, I need to rip it out of the sky myself. What did we even do to deserve this?” You pulled her in and cuddled her close to your chest, letting her listen to the rhythm of your heart and wrap her arms around you to rub your back. You felt the way her hands trembled, you couldn't remember the last time you saw the tough Ellie break down like this, it was tearing you apart.

Kissing the top of her head, you interjected, “But observe it positively, at least we are able to see each other at all, and we live so close, only separated by one thin wall.” Her shoulders began to shake, sticky tears quickly soaking through the linens you were wearing. Feeling your own heart shatter into countless pieces, you just stroked her hair and let her cry as much as she needed.

She clutched you tighter and wailed, “I just wish to spend every hour by your side, every hour awake and every hour asleep, without any separation. I wish I could cook for you in our house, with vegetables grown from our soil, bring you flowers from our garden, and tend to the animals you and I named, instead of waiting until sunset after a day of listening to my father talk badly of you. When I hear him spout all that nonsense, it hurts me so deeply, because all he's saying are lies…this is so unfair.”

You tried your best to console her, “Shh, my love, don't cry. That is the most beautiful dream and I wish it all the same, but don't despair.” You moved her face so she looked up at you, sparkly tears streaming down her sun-kissed cheeks, her beauty was blinding—even when she was sad. “Don't lament, for I am right here, look!” You tried to cheer her up, “I'm holding you now while we rest, while we breathe in the crisp air and feel the soft blades of grass beneath us, all will be well. Don't dwell on those thoughts, let them go.”

Swaying gently from side to side and humming a calming melody, you succeeded in soothing her, feeling her relax in your arms and her shudders slow to a stop. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. You continued the sweet reassurances, kissing away her tears. “One day, whether it be soon, or when we're old and fragile, struggling to stand or wipe our own asses,” you pause to share a chuckle with her, “We won't have to meet like this. Just trust, there is a plan for us in the stars, trust in our gods.”

She nodded, turning to gaze off in the distance, and watch a white crane drink from the water. She snapped to look at you with surprise blazing in her eyes, more round than your mother's prized ceramic dishes. “I have a thought, what if we wed? In secret, with our families never knowing a thing. Or even better we go to the spot over there,” she stopped to point across the river, at the large mulberry tree standing tall in the middle of a yellow-green field. She continues, “And we run away together. We could hitch a ride on a ship and sail over to Lesbos, perhaps we can meet Sappho herself! I've always wanted to. But first we must profess our love for each other, properly, tomorrow night's time, under the tree, to ensure we're blessed. What do you think?”

She was holding your hands gingerly, ghosting the pads of her fingers over your knuckles. For the first time in so many years, you felt a strange warmth brew in your chest, what was it, you had forgotten. Could it be hope? You felt your mouth stretch into a smile so wide it ached, and you burst forward to throw your arms around her neck again, mumbling into the side of her neck, “Yes, yes, Ellie, a thousand times, yes. Oh, I can't wait, I will swipe one of my mother’s silk veils, cook us a celebratory meal, it will be so wonderful.”

Mellow belly laughs, delightful as those spilling from a leader being crowned, tore themselves from her chapped lips, and she squeezed you so tight against her, like she was never planning to let go. “And I will bring my spear, gifted by my grandfather, so I have it to protect my wife from anything that dares harm her.” Hearing her refer to you as her wife, it was a feeling like none other. The butterflies in your stomach swarmed like they became a flock of swallows, their excited tittering heard all the way across the ocean.

You squealed, “Ah I love you, I love you, I love you, my dearest, we will have such a wondrous life together.”

“Yes, that we will, but let's rest until then, I look forward to it. I will write a song just for you as well, bring my lyre and sing to you so we dance from evening until dawn arrives. As soon as night falls, I will be by the spot waiting, that is a promise. Now rest, we have big plans ahead of us, have the sweetest dreams, love.”

The next day spent waiting was as torturous as Ellie describes, only worse. Because all you could think about was her. Running away with her, never looking back at your old lives, getting joyously joined in matrimony—albeit informally—your mind was plagued. After your mother left for her daily errands in the town, you dug through her things, practically overturned her whole space to find the veil. You put it on, feeling so exquisite. It appeared as if it was weaved on an angel's loom, the fibers soft and vibrant.

When all that was over, you resorted solely to watching the sun move in the sky. You were feeling impatient and antsy, and briskly grew tired of waiting so you decided to get started on the trek. You have not been over to that spot in some time, but were interested to see how the tree had grown, and if it had reared fruit. You observed the clouds and the sky during your stroll—the sun had not set fully, the sky still as orange as freshly pressed juice.

Luckily the river was shallow, so you just hiked up your clothes to your waist and crossed without a hitch. You scurried through the tall grass and made it to the tree, sitting down underneath it. You took a deep breath in, smelling the clean air and observing the lively nature around you, still bored but glad to be away from your house—nothing good ever occurred there.

Looking up, you're pleasantly shocked to see the tree is full of fruits, clusters of pale baubles brightly contrasting the green leaves. You reached up and took one from the stem, biting into it, but you recoiled at the taste—tart and bitter, it was horrendous. Like you were eating something utterly inedible. You threw it on the ground, grinding it to a pulp with the bottom of your sandal, that's how offended you were at the assault it performed in your mouth. “Ugh, gross, these are meant to be ripe…do we really eat them like this? What a waste of a fruit.” You muttered to yourself, resuming a cross-legged sitting position by the tree's roots.

After some more time of uneventful waiting, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, at attention, primal alarm bells going off inside you—something wasn't right.

You scan your surroundings with haste, noticing movement in the tall grass in front of you, you're transfixed and stay staring at it, ripping a branch off of the tree to use as a weapon, because your warrior wasn't here yet to protect you from harm.

You heard her before you saw her, a low guttural rumbling rang through the air that could only belong to one thing. Out of the grass emerged a golden lioness, slinking towards you with hushed aggression, her teeth bared and dripping with the remains of a kill.

Your instincts to run away kicked in with full force, and you screamed out for help, running as fast as your legs would carry you. Unfortunately, the speed at which you sat up caused the veil to fall from your head and to the ground—but you didn't care, you didn't think it was possible for your mother to hate you more than she already does. You ran as far as you could, briefly glancing behind you to see what the situation was, what the lioness was doing.

You were able to make out her tearing the fabric apart so voraciously, bloodstained jaws ripping it into shreds, bits of dyed fabric flying to all sides. You still ran as far away as you could, you did not want to be the next victim of those canines, that would be anything but pleasant.

Once the adrenaline wore off you collapsed, panting heavily, trying to catch your breath with difficulty. The tall plants hid you well from any threats, so you laid down, and closed your eyes to recuperate before it was time to meet with Ellie.

When night fell, Ellie made her way to the spot, spear and lyre in hand. She was so excited, and had spent the whole day practicing her act happily, making sure every note she played was perfect. She wanted to make this the best one-woman show you've ever seen.

She couldn't contain her glee, and resorted to sprinting to the designated meeting place, calling out to you, her voice light as a birdsong, “Lovely! I've arrived!” But she stopped short in her tracks when she didn't see you jogging over to greet her with a hug, or really anywhere at all.

“Where could you be?” She asked the world in bewilderment, casting glances all around her to see if you were playing a trick on her. She didn't think you were, but didn't wish to jump to worst case scenarios right away.

Her heartbeat sped up slightly, suffocating fear bubbling up in her throat at your absence. Scampering closer to where she thought you were going to be, she still saw you were nowhere to be found. That is, until something colorful caught her eye.

Hanging from a branch, a piece of torn fabric, stained with dark, still-wet blood. Her line of sight dropped, and she saw more pieces strewn across the dirt, next to glaring claw marks in the soil, and decorating the tree's bark.

She suddenly felt winded, as if somebody had thrown her from a height and she landed flat on her back, full panic setting in. “Oh gods, oh no, what-” She gasped, teetering backwards, overwhelmed by the realization that had taken hold of her. “No, no, no, no, she's right over there. This is from before…” she muttered under her breath, her inhales labored, head pounding as if she was struck by a hammer, and hands shaking so intensely the pieces of fabric she was still holding slipped from her fingers.

“Love! Come out!” She yelled again, her voice cracking, her vision tunneling and chest seizing—this couldn't be happening.

The blood roared in her ears, tears pouring out of her eyes while she pawed at her hair and fell to her knees, hyperventilating. Her spear and lyre clattered noisily as they fell, lyre shattering to bits. She yanked on her locks, unable to believe what was happening to her—where was her love?

She picked up the pieces of the veil, frantically trying to rejoin them, the blood coating her uncontrolled fingers and staining her skin, the hideous color making her stomach turn.

Then the sobs came, she had never cried harder in her life, her whole body heaving with each quake, the pain in her soul worsening as seconds flew by. She kneeled before the tree, pleading to the sky, “Someone…anyone…please. I need her with me.” She felt light-headed, consumed by otherworldly anguish as if it was bestowed by Hades’ hand. It began to morph into numb hopelessness the longer she stayed there, praying, weeping into the ground.

She had to do something, escape from her body, thoughts were swarming her mind, the idea that you were dead ridding her of balance, taking everything from her.

She pleaded until her throat hurt, until crows had perched at the top of the tree to watch her exhibition. They cawed mockery at her, as if they were saying, measly human!

She howled, “What is this life, just give her back to me! Give me back my love, give her back to me, I can't be without her. I can't, no I couldn't. It's too—no—uh. Gods, anyone? Why, why, why?”

Cacophonous, animalistic, cries fell from her lips until she couldn't produce a croak—voice dry and hoarse, waves of grief clawing their way out of her, eating her from the inside out. Her tone barely above a whisper, she was still mumbling, “Give her back, give her back to me. I haven't done any wrong in my life, we can't help where we come from! Just give her back.” In the furthest recesses of her mind there remained a glimpse of hope that she could bring you back, if she willed it hard enough.

She was flooded with memories, memories of your scent, your warmth in her arms, your sing-song voice and the love-filled looks and caresses she was so blessed to be the recipient of. All of that, was she never to experience it again?

She attempted to stand up, but her legs could not hold her, she fell on the hard ground with a grunt, even having cried out all her tears. Every passing moment made it more difficult to breathe, made her chest hurt worse—she needed to do something to ease it.

Her spear. The glint of the metal alloy caught her eye from where it was, any sense of judgment she had before was gone, replaced by pure darkness, the wish to leave the world.

She picked it up, and almost couldn't hold it, the handle feeling twenty times heavier than usual, the blade shaking in her unsteady hands. Was she doing this? She had to, there was nothing else left for her, she thought.

She found her voice, slowly angling the glimmering edge of the blade towards her heart, and said a word. “My love, we'll meet again. We'll meet in the flowering fields of Elysium, where I will get to hold your hand once more, and we'll have our own house, attached to a garden full of vegetables to cook delicious meals with. We'll play with the animals we named, and spend every hour together—awake and asleep. I must do this, for life isn't possible without you.”

She took a deep breath and stabilized her hands, bringing the spear tip to touch her sternum. Her voice steadying, she said three words for the very last time, “I love you.” Before plunging the blade in her heart with all the strength she had left.

The pain was indescribable, so painful she couldn't even scream, but it was thankfully short-lived—she lost consciousness almost immediately after coughing up some blood. It splattered all over the mulberry tree, dyeing the previously white fruits to a shade mimicking that of wine. What followed was never ending blackness, but finally peace, and she left the world with a smile on her face, her last thought was that of you.

Over in the grass, the breeze flying through the tall stalks lulled you to a sleep, and you awoke with a start, confused as to what had happened and where you were.

You blinked the bleariness away and sat up, remembering the lioness that tried to attack you. What a story you had to tell Ellie. She wouldn't believe you, in your mind's eye you could see the way she'd nod, the teasing tone to her voice, “Yes, that happened. No, no, of course I believe you, when have I not?”

At the thought of her, you remembered why you were out here in the first place—to meet with your future wife and profess your love, then run away to live the life you dreamed of. Oh how you couldn't wait.

You jumped up and dusted yourself off, then ran to the tree, eager to tell Ellie about the encounter you had.

But the sight that befell you was the worst thing you could've ever imagined to see. Something only written in the most famous tragedies, something no one ever wished on another person, even their worst enemies.

Ellie, your love, laying on the ground in a pool of maroon blood, with no color in her features, and her spear sticking out of her chest.

You gasped in horror and rushed to her side, madly shaking her body, patting her cheeks, pressing on her arms—but alas, she was completely limp.

“Ellie! No! Wake up!” Thunderous shrieks, begs and pleads for her to wake up shook the Earth, you stroked her face, the ugly feel of her cold skin only adding to the devastation.

When she wasn't moving, you held her body protectively, didn't ever wish to let go, tried to find any signs of life, tears of mourning streaming down your face in bucketfuls.

You stayed there by her as long as you could, silently praying to whatever was out there for her to move a muscle, to open her eyes and assure you everything was alright—she was just joking around, the blood was juice she nabbed, thickened with starch she got from the kitchen, the spear tip was broken and actually just resting against her skin, held in place by a base she crafted and secured under her robe, her lifeless complexion produced by powder—likely flour—to give the chalky effect.

But no, this was reality. Your love had left you. She left you the worst way, by taking her life herself. But why? After all you had planned together?

Thinking like that pained you, the wretched feeling of grief spreading throughout your whole being, thinking of anything at all felt impossible. Did she do it because of you? That thought sent a wave of nausea through you, there was no way that was true.

There was only one thing left to do, you thought. You made up your mind, pulled the spear from her chest, wincing at the sight of her wound, and held it in your hand. You leaned forward and pressed one more kiss to the middle of her forehead, forced a smile against her, and whispered, “It's okay, I'll be with you soon, my love. We'll meet again.”

You took a few breaths in and out, braced yourself for the piercing pain, lined up the sharp tip with your own heart, and thrust with all your might.

Sweet mulberries, succulent and luscious—ended up ripening to a deep mauve hue, similar to that of blood and wine, and became the most adored fruit of them all. A plentiful treat for the masses, deemed compensation for the sacrifice of two love-sick mortals. It was the least the gods could do after all they witnessed before them today. As they watched the spectacle, their understanding of the human species only increased in wonder, in curiosity about their motivations. “That was so strange, they did not know the other was alright—merely jumping to conclusions. Fascinating. Humans are so emotional, where's the rationale?” They debated amongst themselves until the sun rose once more, the only agreement they came to was increased sympathy for humanity, even going as far as to pity.

“Never regret thy fall, O Icarus of the fearless flight. For the greatest tragedy of them all is never to feel the burning light.” — Oscar Wilde.

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[girlkisser13]

kissing lessons

"i asked her how to win my man" "and she said, i know just the thing" "gave me lip gloss and a hair toss" "and, after school, a lesson in kissing"

pairings: hope mikaelson x fem!reader

warnings/tags: none. purely fluff. you’re hope’s bisexual awakening.

summary: what if roman wasn’t hope’s first kiss?

hope paced around your shared room, her mind a whirl of nerves and excitement. she glanced over at you, you were lounging on your bed, absorbed in a book. the memory of your childhood kiss surfaced, making her cheeks flush. the two of you had been seven, playing house, and your innocent kiss had sealed your pretend wedding. you had been her first kiss. and hope had been yours.

"y/n?" hope's voice broke the silence, tentative and unsure.

you looked up from your book, your eyes meeting hers. "hope…?"

she took a deep breath, her fingers twisting nervously. "i... i need your help with something."

you closed your book, giving hope your full attention. "sure, anything. what do you need?"

hope hesitated, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "it's about roman. i... i want to have my first kiss with him, but i don't know how. and i thought... since you're more experienced, maybe you could help me?"

your heart clenched. you had been in love with hope since you were both seven years old, but you had never found the courage to tell her. swallowing your feelings, you put on a brave face. "you want me to teach you how to kiss?"

hope nodded, her face reddening further. "i know it's weird, but i trust you. you're my best friend, and we've kissed before... remember? when we were kids."

you chuckled softly, the memory bringing both joy and pain. "yeah, i remember. our big wedding day."

hope's nerves eased slightly at the shared memory, but the tension quickly returned. "so... will you help me?"

you sighed, setting your book aside. "okay, hope. if it's what you really want."

hope's heart pounded as she moved closer to you, sitting on the edge of your bed. you reached for a small tube of lip gloss on your nightstand and started applying it to your lips.

hope raised an eyebrow. "is that really necessary?"

you grinned, your voice teasing. "yes, it is. you wouldn't know."

hope laughed and rolled her eyes. "you're ridiculous."

you finished applying the lip gloss and turned to face hope, your expression growing more serious.

you leaned in, gently cupping hope’s face in your hands, your voice soft but unsteady. "are you sure you want to do this? it's okay if you've changed your mind—"

hope cuts you off by grabbing the collar of your school uniform, using it to pull you in for a kiss. the kiss was soft and tentative at first, but it quickly deepened, growing more intense. your lips were impossibly soft, the gloss making your lips feel slick and warm against hers. you tasted and smelled like strawberries.

as the kiss deepened, hope's thoughts began to blur. she had thought this would be about roman, but all she could think about was you. her best friend, the girl who had always been there for her. the girl who was kissing her now, with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

when the two of you finally pulled away, you were both left dazed, breathing heavily. hope’s lips were thoroughly covered in your lip gloss. you were the first to speak, your voice soft but steady. "hope, you don’t need to worry about kissing roman. you’re already a really good kisser."

hope's cheeks flushed a deep crimson. "really?"

you nodded, your heart breaking a little more with each second. "really."

you leaned in and kissed hope gently on the cheek. your lip gloss leaving a mark on her cheek. it was a tender, affectionate gesture that made her heart flutter.

her mind was a whirl of confusion and realization. she had thought that this had been about roman, but now she wasn't so sure. the way your kiss had made her feel was unlike anything she had ever experienced. maybe she liked girls just as much as she liked boys. or maybe... she just liked you.

but she couldn't bring herself to say it, not yet. not when everything was so new and confusing. instead, she simply smiled and hugged you tightly. "thanks, y/n. you're the best."

you hugged her back, hiding your own feelings behind your decade long friendship. "anytime, hope. anytime."

as you pulled apart, hope felt a strange sense of longing. she didn't have all the answers yet, but she knew one thing for sure: with you by her side, she could face whatever came next. and maybe, just maybe, she would find the courage to explore these new feelings in time.

[maybankswhore]

𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐄.

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: it was just a silly , childhood game of truth or dare— until it wasn’t.

Getting high at 12am with JJ had become a normal occurrence now. Both of you had trouble sleeping most nights , and mindless conversation and joints were always the remedy.

The first night he had caught you outside , sitting on the back porch with your eyes lower than anything he’d ever seen before— just staring , he had burst out into laughter , demanding you scoot over and share so he could join you.

Ever since then , it had become habitual.

Tonight was no different. Though this time , the two of you were side by side on the hammock. It swung the both of you back and forth gently , smoke circling around you and keeping the mosquitoes at bay. Your head grazed his shoulder , leaning on it but not by much.

“I’m bored.” JJ sighed , breaking the comfortable silence. JJ was a chatterbox when he was high , but so were you so you didn’t mind too much.

“Well what do you want to do about it?” You challenged.

JJ hummed before scooting to sit up , forcing you to copy his actions so the both of you wouldn’t be folding over in the net. “Let’s play a game.”

You groaned.

“Hey! We never play games anymore.” JJ defended. He had a boyish grin on his face as he nudged you. “It’ll be fun. Like old times.”

Old times. Those times seemed for far away now. Everything had changed so fast and you grew up before you even realized that you were seventeen now with your last year of high school approaching.

The memory of playing little light hearted games with John B and JJ when the three of you were all so much smaller and naive crossed your mind for the first time in a long time , and you smiled back warmly. “Okay fine. What game?”

JJ tapped his cheek as he thought. His mind was still hazy , taking one last puff of the joint before passing it to you to finish it off. “Truth or dare.”

The thought of having to get up and complete some dare made you groan loudly and throw your head back. “Ugh , but that’s like so much work.”

“You’re so fucking lazy and annoying!” JJ shoved at you again making you giggle at his tone of voice.

You put your hands up in defense. “But! Okay.”

JJ flashed you his infamous smirk. The one you’d seen millions of times , in millions of situations. And yet , it still made your cheeks dust pink.

You were thankful it was night time and it couldn’t be picked up by the moonlight. “You first.” Clearing your throat to change the subject and distract yourself. Something you had become a pro at. “Truth or dare , JJ?”

Pretending to think , he looked over at you with wild eyes. “Dare.”

Inwardly groaning and complaining to yourself , you tried to think of what to get him to do. There wasn’t much you could think of with your mind in the clouds and your anxiety scratching the back of your neck with JJ’s eyes directly on you.

“Um— I dare you to take Pope’s textbook over there and hide it somewhere.” You motioned over the book Pope had forgotten about earlier.

JJ started giggling as he got up to do it. The image of Pope’s face and how worried he was going to be in the morning gave him that mischievous feeling he was itching for. You watched him in your own laughter as he grabbed it , pacing around back and forth for a solild two minutes before stashing it behind a random bush. “You better remember where you put that tomorrow morning.” You reminded him.

“Oh I know.” JJ cackled and returned back to his place at the hammock. “He’ll start crying if I don’t.”

“Hey now! Pope’s just a sensitive person.” You defended your friend with a pout.

“Yeah like you.”

“I’m not sensitive!” You gasped.

JJ scoffed. “Oh please! You cried yesterday because I stomped on a sand crab.”

Your eye’s turned into slits remembering it. Your heart had hurt so badly for the little crab and JJ and John B were laughing hysterically about it. Fortunately , JJ had done barely any damage and you could watch it scurry away and bury itself back into the sand. Now you were just irritated about it. “That was actually so evil of you.”

“It was fine!” JJ sighed heavily and dropped back onto the hammock beside you. Lazily dropping his head onto your shoulder , the high relaxing him. “Anyways , truth or dare?”

Trying to focus on the game and not your heart beating crazily out of your chest by JJ’s hair brushing against your cheeks , you cleared your throat. “Um— truth.”

“Why won’t you tell me you like me already?” JJ’s voice was just above a whisper. His own palms getting nervous. He could hear your heart beat whilst leaning on your shoulder , he could see the blush on your cheeks when he’d grab at your hair and tug it or when his fingers intertwined with yours. As much as Kiara tried telling him you had feelings for him , he could never be sure. But JJ loved being around you. He loved staying up all night , laughing and talking about absolutely nothing but everything at the same time. He adored you and tonight was just another night of him loving you. It was a mix of the weed’s ability to calm his nerves , and the burning in his chest that would make him errupt into flames if he didn’t say anything.

Your mouth became dry at his question. You blinked trying to sober up a complete thought , thrown off by the sudden change in the atmosphere. It was no longer light hearted , but dense. Nothing was said but there was still so much to say and talk about. JJ sat up straight to look at you. His eyes studied your face that was now burning pink , unable to look up and make eye contact.

“I— uh , I don’t know—” you nervously stumbled over your words. Swirls in your tummy as you picked at your fingernails.

“Do you?” JJ asked again. Daring his hand to lightly grab your shoulder , thumbs rubbing the blade comfortingly. “Because I like you , Y/N. I like you alot and I want to know if you feel the same way.”

You said nothing , trying to keep up with the hundreds of things running in your head. The feeling of JJ’s hands on you eased some of the nerves making you seem sick. Pursing your lips , you took a deep breath before looking at him , finally.

“Truth or dare.” You asked him lowly. You scooted closer to him , snaking an arm forward.

“Dare.”

“Kiss me.” You breathed , trying to shake off the nerves. You felt as though you were going to burst , suddenly feeling hot.

JJ grinned. “We are so going to be that cheesy , annoying couple everyone hates.” He told you giggling to himself before cupping your cheek and connecting his lips with yours. Eye’s fluttering closed as he melted into your kiss. A satisfied sigh leaving your mouth.

“Definitely will be.”

[autumnhobbit]

sometimes i like to think about the fact that tolkien wrote the definitive ending for each of his characters. if you’ve only watched the movies you probably haven’t heard of or read the appendices to lotr, which contains some details that didn’t really have a spot in the books’ narrative official, like aragorn & arwen’s love story and courtship, and the eventual fates of all the main players.

a lot of stories are self-contained and focus on a certain part of the character’s lives. their childhood, their teenage years, their 20’s 30’s 40’s, until their happily-ever-after and all else is left to the imagination. for some stories, that’s what they need and it works and you can rest easy knowing the characters made it and they’re alright now and they will be alright when we say farewell to them and go our separate ways.

and tolkien made the interesting choice to tell when and how each of his characters died. and it’s not like some stories where an unnecessarily sad death comes unnecessarily into a story for shock value or extra drama. the whole of lotr is seeped on death and decay and especially on passing away. the elves are leaving never to return and one day the world will forget they ever existed. their beautiful homes and joyful songs and eons under the trees forgotten and nothing more than a ruin and a memory that no one who saw them will even be alive to remember. the men of numenor come back from near extinction but even as their descendants go on there are still only a few who will remember the ones who were really there. so it’s perhaps understandable that tolkien chose to write the happy ending. the real happy ending.

the happy ending that was exactly what each character needed and what you would want for each character. they each live full lives with the ones they love, all their greatest dreams and hopes realized. aragorn and arwen marry, eomer becomes king of rohan, the hobbits return home and sam builds the family he wanted with rosie. and yet gandalf leaves, and frodo goes with him, and though there is joy there is parting, and it breaks your heart. and it feels very adult because isn’t that the truth of adulthood? you meet people you love and you live and you see each other whenever you can, and time passes and you go your own ways and though you remember them and love then you live your life and then one day it’s over.

and so tolkien wrote the ending and it’s exactly what you think each character would do and how it would go. and i think about sometimes the wisdom and the life experience needed to write the whole life of each character, how and where they died and who was with them.

[cradle-quill]

Lost in the Rhythm, an ABDL Story by CradleQuill (Reupload)

Disclaimer: All content is fictional, consensual, and intended only for mature audiences. All characters depicted are adults aged 18+ _

You didn't know what you were getting into. You started seeing a therapist, something you really should have done long ago. You'd put it off for years, until the night terrors became impossible to bear any longer. That's when you met Dr. Vale.

You'd never seen nor heard of her practice before, yet her office was just a few miles away, tucked into the corner of a half-abandoned shopping center. When you saw the add for it online, it was if it were calling out to you directly. "Come find yourself. Recapture what used to make you, you." Words on a screen had never seemed so appealing. So you went ahead and set the appointment.

The consultation with Dr. Vale was perfectly normal. She was a kind, soft-spoken, older woman, and her office was neat and welcoming. She had a lovely couch for you to sit on, and you told her all about your night terrors and how they'd grown worse over the last few years, as you reached the latter half of your twenties.

She asked you when they started, and you recited memories of waking up in cold sweats all throughout your childhood. Her ears seemed to perk up at that, and she listened with a welcoming charm that invited you to reveal more. You told her about your parents, and your school life. Even about your first crushes and heartbreaks. She soaked them all in and at the end, she offered a warm smile and you felt just the smallest bit of prolonged pain melt away like ice beneath a freshly-lit candle flame.

The whole following week, your footsteps felt a little lighter. Your shoulders didn't bear quite as much weight. And you chalked it all up to your visit with Dr. Vale. To think you were already feeling so much better after just a consultation, you were thrilled to see how you felt after a real session. But you should have realized something was off. Things that seem too good to be true oftentimes are.

When you arrived at her office for your first true visit, you were surprised to find you'd arrived first. You sat down on the familiar couch, but the doctor was nowhere to be seen. You waited for some time, with nothing to entertain you but the incessant ticking of the clock above the door. As it ticked away, time slowed to a crawl for you. You watched the clock's hand as each second passed, feeling the full weight of each one as they came and left your world.

By the time the door finally opened, you were in a profound state of calm. Too calm to even notice the items Dr. Vale carried with her when she entered the room. You shook your head and blinked away the sleepy crust that had accrued in your eyes, and as your vision returned to you, it settled on Dr. Vale's lovely smile. The weight of your worry sank deeper into a place too far and foreign to feel.

"It's nice to see you again," she said as she sat down in her armchair. She placed what she was carrying down at her side.

Before long, you found yourself opening up to her again, this time delving even deeper into inner chambers of your mind you'd locked long ago, so far into the past you hardly even remembered they were there. She took each one and lifted it from you, easing that burden just enough to make it all seem so manageable. You were so thrilled with your decision to see her. And so proud of yourself for making the call.

That's when she spoke up. "You know, honey," she said with her usual firm yet loving tone. "You've told me so much about you in such a short amount of time. I feel like I've really gotten to know you, the person you are, and the person you want to be. And I've seen how your demeanor has changed, even just between our first meeting and now. You feel it too, don't you?"

You nodded, embarrassed and cheeks burning a bright rosy-pink hue. It was one thing to acknowledge these feelings yourself, but to have her speak them so plainly, it was as if she'd turned a mirror on you. And for the first time, you liked what you saw.

Her smile widened further. She was there with you, meeting you where you needed her to. You could feel her understanding. She saw you, the way you really needed to be seen. And her smile told you all you needed to know about her thoughts as well. She was happy for you, thrilled she could help you open yourself up, even just that little bit.

"I think I have something here that will help you even more, if you're willing to try it," she said, gesturing toward her pile of things beside her. "They're a bit unconventional, but I really think you're a perfect candidate for this kind of therapy."

You didn't even question it. You just happily agreed without even giving it a second thought. You trusted her completely. How foolish to trust someone you'd known for such a short amount of time, and yet you did, because you were naive, or maybe because you were vulnerable. She was certainly willing to take advantage of that vulnerability.

Seeing your eagerness, Dr. Vale reached down and pulled out a silver pocket watch. It was beautiful, and it shone in the office's faint lights. On its face, there was an engraving of a crescent moon featured prominently amongst a star-lit sky. She held the pocket watch out in front of you and scooched her chair forward, drawing closer to you.

She let the pocket watch fall down and it swung back and forth like a pendulum. Your eyes followed it each way it went, back and forth, back and forth. Before you even knew it, your eyes were transfixed, and you couldn't focus your attention anywhere else. With each swing of the pendulum, the sound of the ticking clock echoed throughout your ear like a thunderous chorus singing a soothing hymn.

"You've been such a good girl for me, love," she said. Her words were as the wind, beautiful and forever present without needing to be seen. They were felt instead. "You're doing so well, but I know you can do even better. You can be a good little girl for me. You can escape all those adult worries that frighten you so much. If you give in, if you fall and let me catch you, I'll take care of those things for you."

"I'll hold you and love you," she continued. "And I'll cherish you always. Close your eyes. Just listen to the sound of my voice. Feel yourself giving in, feel the weight of your toes as they touch the tips of your shoes. Feel them grow heavier, and feel that weight run along your feet to your ankles, and then to your legs. Feel it all around your pelvis and torso, as the sense of warmth and completeness travels to the very top of your head and flows down your scalp like raindrops. You want to be my good girl. You want to give in. You came here knowing, deep down, that you weren't cut out for adult life. You want to let it all go. Be a good girl for me, sweetheart. Be a good girl for Mommy."

Something tugged within you. You wanted to resist. You knew she was talking nonsense, and yet the severity of what she was asking wasn't lost on you. You felt it, your identity, your adult self, slipping away into the farthest reaches of your mind. There was a moment, a single, perfect moment where you had to make a choice. To choose to fight back, to grab hold of that version of you and refuse to let go. Or to give in. To trust her, to let her guide you. We both know which one you picked.

Who you were, everything that made you the adult you'd become, it flowed away into the sea of your mind. You stopped holding onto it. You let go, just as you let go of everything else you'd been holding onto. You let the warmth flood into your pants and spread beneath your bottom, soaking the seat. You sat there in a puddle of your own making, and as the final drops escaped your bladder, you knew your transformation was complete. The ecstasy of it all gave way to reality, to a sharp pang of anxiety, but it was too late.

You could no longer speak. Each time you tried, you heard only babbles escape your lips. And soon those babbles became sobs. "There, there," your new Mommy said. "It's alright love, babies like you aren't expected to keep their big girl pants dry. Don't you worry, Mommy has just the thing."

She lifted you effortlessly, as if your body weighed next to nothing. She was much stronger than she looked, but whatever she did to you also made you entirely limp. You put up no fight whatsoever, no matter how much you tried. She unrolled a changing mat and laid you atop it before removing your clothes. You felt so vulnerable, having her see you in such a state, and yet there was something else too, something Mommy refused to allow to go unnoticed.

"My my," she said. "It looks like my little girl is wet in more than just one way. Such a silly, naughty baby. Mama will have to play with you a bit so you can release some of that pent-up energy."

She lifted your butt and placed a thick diaper beneath you. She rubbed baby lotion all around your thighs, and when she made her way to the middle, she ran two fingers up along the wetness, stirring something up within you and causing you to shiver. Suddenly, the ecstasy had returned. She sunk her fingers inside, sending you writhing along to the rhythm she played for you. Each note transcended the moment itself, slipping into the deepest parts of your consciousness as she built to the inevitable crescendo, the one you'd been yearning for. She gave you what you wanted, what you so desperately craved. And for the next few minutes, your moans sang in harmony with the rhythm of her hands as she played you like an instrument. Once you were both finished, she sprinkled baby powder on you and taped your diaper up into place, then gave you a firm pat on the bottom.

"There. All finished, baby girl." Next, she helped you into a onesie, one perfectly tailored to fit you. She'd been planning this from the moment you'd met, and there was nothing you could do about it now. You were foolish enough to trust her, and pathetic enough to give in. This was it. This was your life now. You'd made your choice.

From that day on, Mommy took care of you. She took you away from that office, and you never returned home. She blindfolded you while she drove you to her house, your new house. So even if you did someday regain your ability to speak and move your limbs like a full-fledged adult, you'd never know where you were. But she made sure things would never get to that point in the first place, as each morning, when you woke up in your already soggy diapers, she'd pull out the pendulum and swing it before you. Your eyes would follow it and all your big girl thoughts would fade away into the rhythm of that ticking clock. And you'd smile and coo like a good little girl. And each morning, your little hypnosis sessions always ended the same way. With you giving a few firm pushes before filling your diaper and giggling like the good little girl you'd always be from then on. _

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[hisunflower]

When Life Gives You Lemons | Jaehyun.

Genre: Fiction. Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: sometimes moving forward in life, means going backwards and for you this means going back home, to remember.

— Time is just a construct. Outside of that, there is Love. Home is created within the Present. And where there is love, there is your Presence. Where there’s home, there’s you. 𖦹

It’s been 7 years.

The dirt roads have turned to asphalt, the grass to concrete. Farmland has become corporate, and your once quiet neighborhood is thriving with new homes and ongoing construction.

The ground is covered with autumn leaves and a sudden breeze begins, flowing your hair past your shoulders as you walk along a pathway that was once a foot-worn trail to your childhood home. Looking down, to your surprise, the pavement is surrounded by dandelions you spent your early days blowing in the wind. They seem to have managed their escape above the layer of the newborn city, blooming proudly while still deeply rooted in the soil.

                                   -

You never thought you’d be away for this long, but you also never imagined to return after all of this time.

“Expect the unexpected,” is something your father always whispered. Not to mention the memory of your mother always adding, “you’ll understand when you’re older,” at the end of the majority of his sentences during much of his storytelling. Both now, you seek to be true for the first time by the presence of your absence.

You walk up three steps, lifting your heavy luggage behind you, rolling it with you until you’re standing in front of the old familiar door. The porch is crowded with plants that will have to be moved inside soon and wind chimes that cling in the wind. The scene immediately hits you with nostalgia and you take a deep breath recalling everything. You surely missed this place.

The truth is, things weren’t working out anymore in the city you had moved to. It never quite felt like home. And you couldn’t imagine a future there like you were able to before.

The cost of living was incredibly unaffordable alone and what once seemed easy became a struggle in routine. There were plenty of financial opportunities, but overall the odds were against you in many other ways. And it was clear that it was time to move on. So, you called it quits and came back home.

Even though your early career had given you so much experience and taught you independence, it just wasn’t what you thought it would be, which is okay because everything serves its time. Over the years it’s just made you realize the type of life you don’t want to live, so that you may find the life you do want to live.

With the undying support of your family, you’re sure to find your way. While knowing everything happens for a much deeper reason, you look forward to exactly that to keep you going.

                                   -

And of course you’ve thought about him in the midst of it all. When haven’t you? Well, maybe when you slipped into moments where you felt you should face reality and move on, but you could never help the lingering feelings and random dreams of what could’ve been. At some point you stopped fighting the feelings and accepted that you’ll always have love for him even if you couldn’t be in love with him. Somehow that calmed the spawning thoughts of him to be less likely.

Still, there was something there.

You can’t deny that when the plane landed earlier today, that he was your first thought. Imagining all of the old times. For a while it was his presence you had always wondered about, even mentioning him a few times over the phone to your mother just to reminisce. You wondered what he looks like now, how he sounds, if he’s handling this adult life as well as some people? If he has thoughts of you? How tall? Is he a good person? Does he have a family by now or is perhaps married? Is he healthy? Your thoughts would trail on until they didn’t.

Just as the city you had moved to didn’t quite feel like home, neither did any of the other relationships that you had throughout the years. It always felt like a part of you was missing. Yes, you could easily pinpoint what or rather who it was. Also yes, puppy love may not compare to a more mature relationship as an adult, but love is a raw feeling of certainty that when you know you know, yet you never knew with the others who swore they loved you.

You were so much in your head at this moment that you hadn’t even thought that maybe he could’ve moved away, and that struck a painful chord in your heart that you stopped yourself from subconsciously stringing.

While anything is possible, no matter what, life has happened, and will continue with or without you. You know you’ll have to be mature about the unexpected. And you’re sure you’ll understand it more now since you’re older.

You just wondered all of these things about Jaehyun, all of the time, your first everything. You never wanted to forget.

                                   -

The hiding in the woods during holiday gatherings, and sneaking kisses behind the trees. Going down to the lake every summer with friends who knew you two were much more than just friends. Listening to each other ramble on about your day, cuddling as close as you possibly could.

Making out at the drive-ins not even remembering what movie you went to see. Him making love to you in the backseat of his new vintage car the night of his birthday, almost having a pregnancy scare some time after that.

Him coming over to help pick ripe fruits with you and your mother. The lemon tree was his favorite because he’d always say you reminded him of a lemon and you’d just laugh at him. He compared you to the fruit in terms of you being sweet or sour to him. You’d argue that lemons are always sour, but he would remind you of how sweet lemons can be by kissing you after eating a slice of your mother’s lemon cake.

                                   -

And some things you didn’t mind forgetting.

Does he hate me? Is he still hurt? Does he have regrets?

Your father recognizing you wearing Jaehyun’s jackets, sweaters and cardigans around the winter time. Finding his letters to you in the mailbox mixed in with the bills. He was alright with that because you were happy.

Everything was fine until your parents began spotting the lovebites around your neck. You started staying out later than usual and started being more “secretive,” which you called, “privacy.”

Ironically, when you had your pregnancy scare, it was your dad who comforted you. Your mother too, but she had you young so she was caught in between support and lecturing.

Before you knew it, one day you were sitting at the dinner table having to choose between opening your college acceptance letter or Jaehyun’s letter which hurt you the most. Why couldn’t it have been both? It’s obvious what was chosen. So you went to school and lived with your grandmother for a bit before renting an apartment. Fell in love and got your heart broken, spiraling downwards even more with a job you began to dislike.

After awhile you had another choice, but to keep it simple the only option was home. The relationship between you and your parents had always been a good one and you knew your parents cared about your future, but they also knew how important Jaehyun was to you, especially your mom and you felt like he was thrown away.

There hadn’t been much communication after the day you left. You wanted to make your parents proud, so you stopped answering his calls convincing yourself that it was just young silly love that will never mean anything more than what it was.

                                   -

It’s been 7 years since you were standing in this exact spot at 17, with tears streaming down your face as the 18 year old boy you loved so dearly hugged you tightly like it was the last time he’d be seeing you, because it was.

And just like that, you’re 24. A lot can change within a few years, that’s for sure. But one thing that has always remained the same is that special place that he has, sheltered in your heart. It didn’t matter how much time had passed. It didn’t feel like it had been that long in the first place.

Something so pure like that lives forever only in memory.

First loves and first times never fade.

And you’re completely okay with his name being written upon your heart always, especially if it means you get to carry endless love from the happiness he gave you, for the rest of your life, wherever you may go.

Authors Note: Hi I have decided to turn this into a mini series/book? LOL because I am impatient #tooexcited. I will update when I can, but I am obviously in the Jaehyun trenches. If you would like to be tagged for updates I will make a tag list :)

Tag List: @bluedbliss

I hope you enjoyed! Feedback is deeply appreciated, with love @hisunflower ❀

Check out my other fics here.

[lucydarkrain]

Title: Memories

Pairing: Luke Castellan x fem!reader / Luke Castellan x You

Summary: You never really figured out how you feel about the now famous Luke Castellan despite spending so much time with him in the past. Memories and feelings are all you have left of him.

Warning: Non-explicit. Short one-shot. Not happy ending.

—————————————————————————

You liked the the shade of the coffee in Luke Castellan’s eyes.

You could lose yourself in them for hours. His gaze was always so soft when they met your eyes, too much to the point where you thought you were in free fall with a warm embrace.

You can always tell when he was excited, the subtle tilt of his head giving away his confidence. It was in those moments, amidst the thrill of the game, that you felt most alive, knowing that you can trust your heart with this dark haired demigod.

He would be the only person to ever notice your injured lip and bruises on your knuckles, and before you could make up any excuses to distract him, he would already be sitting next to you, wrapping bandages around your fingers. In that moment, all you could hear was the sound of birds in the valley and the leaves whistling.

Luke Castellan spoke of his love for the wind, how it made him feel free in this world and how he would put his past behind him, even for just a second.

He told you his fondness for the sunset, explaining that it signaled the approach of nightfall. You know that he felt most at ease in the darkness when no one else could disrupt the peace, exactly the same as you.

Luke confessed his admiration for the rain, particularly when he saw you running carefree with your hair down amidst the raindrops. He said it was the most beautiful scene he'd ever witnessed.

He expressed his desire to go on a quest with you, emphasizing that you were one of the most trusted warriors he could ever be with. You started making it your goal and practiced your battle skills ever since, but you never really told him there’s no one else that you could ever trust with your quest besides him.

Despite everything he said and the way your eyes met, how he would softly whisper in your ears when sharing a joke about Chris, or how he carefully plays with your hair when you’re napping in the cabin…he still left you alone in the camp and followed the dark path without even saying goodbye.

As Luke disappeared into the shadows, his absence left a void in the camp, a silent reminder of unspoken promises and shattered dreams.

You stood alone, the echoes of his departure haunting your thoughts, a bittersweet melody of what could have been.

In the quiet of the night, you whispered his name to the wind, hoping against hope that he would hear your silent plea and somehow miraculously make his grand return.

But the wind carried your words away, lost in the vast expanse of the unknown, leaving you to confront the harsh reality of his absence.

You never really figured out if your feelings for him was just a childhood crush that shared a soft glow of innocence and a delicate blossom of tender affection, or if it is something more.

Something deeper and more profound, stems from each time when he locked his eyes on your smile then quickly turned away the moment you catch it, when you found yourself resting your head on his shoulder and he never even budged, or when he’d instantly know you’re nearby when he was buried in the heavy thoughts and needed some air in the woods.

You never really knew if you loved him, all you remember was the excruciating heartache as if he carved a hollow space within you.

And as the stars faded from view, casting the world into darkness, you realized that some bonds were meant to be broken, some paths destined to diverge, leaving only memories in their wake.

[and-come-to-dust]

Rings of Power WIP

This is a piece of a longer fic I have planned out where Elrond visits Númenor post-season 1 as an emissary from Gil-Galad. In this scene, Elrond is on Elendil's ship, just arriving in Númenor's harbor. The dialogue between them (and the whole fic, really) grew up out of my desperate desire for someone in the show to acknowledge that Elendil is Elrond's great great great (great great great great great...) nephew, which for some reason is both hilarious to me and holds enormous potential for angst.

Enjoy!

“Beautiful, isn’t it?" Elendil said. "I’ve lived here all my life and the view still takes my breath away.”

“I have never seen it before,” Elrond said, nodding towards the statue of Eärendil. The statue of his father, Elendil realized with another one of those strange jolts he still felt every time he remembered that he was standing beside a figure from his childhood storybooks come to life.

“I thought you had visited Númenor in the past?”

“I have,” Elrond agreed. “But the last time I was here, construction had only just begun on the sculpture.”

Elendil said nothing, reminded yet again that this elf who looked barely older than Isildur had already lived many human lifetimes by the time this ancient kingdom was founded. 

“I promised, at the time, that I would return to see it finished,” Elrond went on. “But time moves so differently for my people than it does for yours, and it seems to be a particular fault of mine to forget that. By the time I thought to return, my promise was already long past due and I found that the way back to Númenor was closed to me. My kind were no longer welcome in what was once my brother’s kingdom, and I lost contact with his descendants. That is why I am so pleased to have met you, Captain. I am glad to know that I still have kin.”

“Kin in Númenor, you mean?”

“Kin anywhere.”

Elendil paused, thinking of all the lofty tales he’d heard told about the house of Eärendil. There were grandparents and great grandparents, aunts and uncles, many distant cousins, all dead before the beginning of the Second Age. There was a father who set sail, never to return, and a mother who cast herself into the sea in his wake. There was one brother who had chosen mortality and death, and another who had chosen otherwise. It occurred to him then, sudden and startling in its obviousness, that for all the greatness of Elrond’s family he was very much alone in this world.

Finding himself at a loss to articulate his sorrow for the terrible loneliness that must bring, Elendil looked back to the statue. “Is it a good likeness?” he asked, the change of subject sounding clumsy in his own ears, but Elrond seemed to take it in stride.

“I believe the sculptors have captured his features well,” he replied slowly. “But it is not as I remember him.”

“In what way?”

“In my memory, he smiles.”

Elrond wasn’t looking at him anymore, and was instead staring up at the monument with an expression of such naked wistfulness on his face that Elendil felt compelled to look away. He turned instead to the statue and tried, for a moment, to imagine that it was an image of his own father; that the great stone face high above was the same one that had laughed as they splashed in the waves together in Elendil’s earliest memories and looked at him with such pride the day Elendil passed his sea trial; that the outstretched carven hand was the same one that had held him as a baby and guided him as he learned his letters. The thought was such an absurd one that Elendil almost laughed. But he mastered the urge, and said instead:

“It must be very strange, seeing your father like that.”

“I suppose I’ve grown accustomed to it,” Elrond said, smiling faintly. “Everywhere I go, I am known first for my father’s accomplishments, and second for my brother’s. My own come in a rather unimpressive third.”

“You have time enough to match them. You’re young still,” Elendil said, and immediately felt like a fool. It was something he might have said to Isildur or Eärien when they spoke with ambition untempered by patience, and it had slipped out now with the deep-ingrained habits of fatherhood. But speaking like that to an elf hundreds of times his own age – the high king’s emissary, no less – was ridiculous to the point of insult. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Elrond was already laughing.

“I suppose I am,” he said. “As are you, captain, if we measure by elvish standards. Perhaps the both of us still have our greatest deeds ahead of us.”

“Perhaps,” Elendil said dubiously. The future he expected for himself was a simple one: to live and die as a captain of the sea guard and a loyal servant of Númenor. Honorable, perhaps, but unremarkable in the long view of history. It was not the kind of life that would result in monuments being built in his honor, and Elendil was quite content to be forgotten. 

He opened his mouth to say as much to Elrond, but was interrupted by the approach of his lieutenant. 

“Sir,” the young man said. “We’ll be dropping anchor soon.”

Elendil nodded, then said to Elrond: “Excuse me. Duty calls.”

“Of course.”

Elendil turned away and followed the lieutenant, pulling his attention away from thoughts of ancient heroes and back to the work of the present. He glanced back once, though, and saw Elrond still waiting at the prow, standing in the shadow of his father’s outstretched hand.

[yuff7e]

Hi this's my first time I requested to your acc so I hope I do it right.

I want to request Obanaixfem.reader that we are childhood friends that have some cute love promise together, but reader kinda move away so they lost contact.

Years pass they meet at demon slayer corps but he don't really remember her so reader select to let it pass, but kaburamaru remember her and approach her. That make him realise who is she.

Well let's say this make he confused who to choose between mitsuri and reader.

(This can end here but if you want more angst you can make reader go to protect Mitsuri from demon because she think Obanai like her and end up badly injured.)

Other is up to you. Feel free to ignore this if it make you uncomfortable.^^

𝐑𝐄𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐒

𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

aww anon this is so sweet!! i love anything related to obani and mitsuri and this was actually really fun to write, probably one of my favorite requests so far, hope you enjoy this one-shot :) ఌ︎

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐝

obani iguro -> mitsuri kanroji

♬♪ -> lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıı

the sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the demon slayer corps headquarters. the years had been unkind to you, marked by the grueling training and countless battles against demons. yet, the memory of a boy with mismatched eyes and a snake companion never left your heart.

obanai iguro. your childhood friend, your first love. before your family moved away, you made a promise to each other – a promise to meet again and protect each other from any harm. life, however, had its own plans. the years separated you, and the memories began to blur.

returning as a fully-fledged demon slayer, you found obanai among the ranks. but something was different. his once vibrant eyes now carried a depth of sorrow, and his demeanor had grown colder. worse, he didn't seem to recognize you at all. deciding to let the past remain in the past, you focused on your duty.

days turned into weeks, and you found solace in your duties, though your eyes would often wander to obanai and his companion, mitsuri kanroji. their bond was apparent, and the warmth between them made your heart ache. still, you kept your feelings hidden, even as they threatened to consume you.

one evening, while walking through the headquarters, you felt a gentle nudge against your leg. looking down, you saw kaburamaru, obanai’s snake, coiling around you affectionately. his eyes seemed to recognize you, sparking a flood of memories.

obanai approached, confusion etched on his face as he watched kaburamaru's behavior. “kaburamaru... what’s gotten into you?” you smiled softly, reaching down to pet the snake. “hello, kaburamaru. it’s been a long time.”

recognition flickered in obanai's eyes, and a myriad of emotions crossed his face – confusion, realization, and something unspoken. “[name]...?” you nodded, a bittersweet smile playing on your lips. “yes, it’s me.”

before either of you could say more, an urgent cry for help echoed through the headquarters. mitsuri was engaged in a fierce battle with a powerful demon. without a second thought, you ran toward the commotion, heart pounding.

arriving at the scene, you saw mitsuri struggling. the demon's attacks were relentless, and she was barely holding her ground. obanai was nowhere in sight, likely engaged elsewhere. knowing his feelings for mitsuri, you couldn’t let her fall.

summoning all your strength, you leapt into the fray, placing yourself between mitsuri and the demon. “hang on, mitsuri! i’ve got you!”

the battle was fierce, and the demon's strength was overwhelming. you fought valiantly, but a particularly brutal attack left you badly injured, blood staining the ground beneath you. mitsuri's horrified scream was the last thing you heard before darkness claimed you.

when you awoke, you found yourself in the infirmary, your body aching and bandaged. through the haze of pain, you saw obanai sitting beside your bed, his eyes filled with worry and guilt.

“you’re awake,” he whispered, relief evident in his voice. you managed a weak smile. “mitsuri... is she alright?” obanai nodded. “thanks to you, she’s safe. you saved her life, [name].” his voice broke, and he took your hand in his. “i’m sorry... for everything. for not recognizing you, for the years we lost... and for putting you in a position where you felt you had to protect mitsuri.”

tears welled in your eyes. “i thought you loved her. i couldn’t let anything happen to her because of that.” obanai shook his head, his grip on your hand tightening. “mitsuri is dear to me, but she’s not... you. seeing you again, realizing who you are, has brought back everything. i’m so sorry for not being there, for losing contact. but i don’t want to lose you again.”

his words were a balm to your aching heart, and you felt a flicker of hope. “i never stopped caring for you, obanai. i just... i didn’t know how to reach you.”

he leaned closer, his forehead resting gently against yours. “we have another chance now. let’s not waste it. i want to try again, to be there for you as i should have been.”

tears fell freely now, but they were mixed with a smile. “i’d like that. i’d like that very much.” as the sun rose, casting a new day’s light into the room, you felt a weight lift from your heart. the future was uncertain, but with obanai by your side, you were ready to face it together.

[alwritey-aphrodite]

knit blankets for Marc?

2023 Fall Blurbs

You were constantly trying to hang on to the remnants of your childhood, trying to retain that joy and warmth that surrounds your memories. You’re sensitive, feeling bad for stuffed animals that don’t get to sleep on the bed and wondering how toys feel when they stay on the store shelves. Marc thinks it’s all a little silly, even though he happily buys you a ghost stuffie so “the pumpkin doesn’t get lonely”.

It’s no secret that Marc’s own childhood wasn’t good, despite the handful of happy memories he cherishes, but he loves to sit and listen to you recount your own tales of adventure and teenage angst. This morning, you’d been curled up in bed and telling Marc about all the fall things you remember doing, like apple picking and carving pumpkins and watching movies bundled up under blankets.

“My grandma had this great knit blanket, and I’ve never been able to find one like it,” you tell him, a pit in your chest forming as you picture the blanket in your mind, as you remember how much you and your grandma loved it. You try to shake it off, though, crawling out of the warm little bubble you’d created around your bed and getting ready to run some errands, kissing Marc’s forehead on your way out the door.

When you return, there’s a very familiar knit blanket thrown over the back of the couch and Marc is in the kitchen, standing over the stove and acting like nothing is different. You set your bags down at the kitchen table but there’s too much emotion flowing through your veins for you to take off your coat or your shoes, even though you know Marc’ll throw a fit about tracking mud and dirt throughout the cluttered flat.

Still, you walk forward like you’re drawn by a siren song, until you can gently rest your fingers on the edge of the blanket.

“Where did you find this?” You ask, awe and wonder coloring your voice as you rub the fabric between your fingers, memories and feelings of childhood rushing back.

“Dunno, just found it,” you don’t even need to be looking to know that Marc’s shrugging, that there’s an embarrassed red tinge to his cheeks.

Marc loves to take care of you, loves to buy things and do things just for you, but he gets squirmy whenever you call him out, thank him and let him know how much he means to you. This time, though, you’re too overcome with emotions at seeing a carbon copy of your grandma’s blanket on your couch that you can’t even form another sentence, even if you wanted to.

Instead, you make your way to the kitchen, toeing off your shoes by the front door before wrapping your arms around Marc and settling your head in the dip between his shoulder blades. He rests a hand over yours, using the other to turn off the stove.

“Want to watch a movie?” He asks, and it’s now that you recognize the scent of hot chocolate and realize there are bowls of all your favorite snacks spread across the counter.

Feeling too many wonderful things to speak, you just nod against his back and press a kiss to his cheek when he wraps you in the blanket once you’re both safely on the couch. You feel warmer than ever, wrapped in the knit fabric and the glow of so much love you can’t even fathom it.

[st4rfvckerr]

yeah romantic thomesa angst is so good but what if i have a wip where thomas tries to deal with his twin sister (movie!)teresa's betrayal and to cope with the fact that whatever they do they'll always be related, two sides of the same coin, opposites but still the same, and slowly begins to despise himself as he realizes it was never about saving the world or saving his friends and always about saving her. what then.

aka: if thomas would sacrifice the world without hesitation to save teresa and teresa would sacrifice thomas without hesitation to save the world, which one of them is the bad guy ?

excerpts below :))

inspired by this quote

and this song !

"I'm not like you," Teresa rasps, her eyes red. "I'm nothing like you." Thomas watches as she thrashes in his arms. "Don't fight it, ‘Resa, whatever we do, we'll always be the same," he says, and the childhood nickname stings on his tongue more than Teresa's kicks ever could.

their last scene but rewritten to be platonic/familial and so much heavier :))

"I love you, please stop, there's so much blood on your hands already.”

not telling you who says it and who has the blood on their hands because it's true both ways, they both have caused so much pain around them so the other could be happy, yet all it did was make their twin, their other half, despise them

Some nights Thomas thinks he hates Teresa more than he has ever hated anyone else, thinking of the disease growing in Newt's veins and the emptiness in Minho's eyes after they got him back. He thinks of the lone survivors of the trials and of the ones that didn't make it, thinks of orphaned children around the world, and of grief-stricken people cradling their loved ones' lifeless bodies. What he does not think of is the guilt gnawing at his chest, knowing that he wouldn't hesitate to send all these people to hell and back just to hold his baby sister in his arms again. What he does not think of is how hate is a word he doesn't quite understand.

morally gray thomas is just too good

He closes his eyes trying to remember her face and sees nothing but the little girl she once was.

thomas tries to blame himself for wanting to forgive teresa but he cannot help it, still seeing her as the terrified little girl he had to protect once their family abandoned them, succumbing to sickness, because despite his memory loss, his unconditional love and protectiveness still stuck with him

i promise i'll write it fully eventually...

[usefulquotes7]

Everyone should read this ❤️

The telephone rang. It was a call from his mother. He answered it and his mother told him, "Mr. Belser died last night. The funeral is Wednesday."

Memories flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days.

"Jack, did you hear me?"

"Oh, sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you. It's been so long since I thought of him. I'm sorry, but I honestly thought he died years ago," Jack said.

"Well, he didn't forget you. Every time I saw him he'd ask how you were doing. He'd reminisce about the many days you spent over 'his side of the fence' as he put it," Mom told him.

"I loved that old house he lived in," Jack said.

"You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make sure you had a man's influence in your life," she said.

"He's the one who taught me carpentry," he said. "I wouldn't be in this business if it weren't for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me things he thought were important. Mom, I'll be there for the funeral," Jack said.

As busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the next flight to his hometown. Mr. Belser's funeral was small and uneventful. He had no children of his own, and most of his relatives had passed away.

The night before he had to return home, Jack and his Mom stopped by to see the old house next door one more time. Standing in the doorway, Jack paused for a moment. It was like crossing over into another dimension, a leap through space and time. The house was exactly as he remembered.

Every step held memories. Every picture, every piece of furniture...Jack stopped suddenly...

"What'swrong, Jack?" his Mom asked.

"The box is gone," he said.

"What box?" Mom asked.

"There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his desk. I must have asked him a thousand times what was inside. All he'd ever tell me was 'the thing I value most,'" Jack said.

It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered it, except for the box. He figured someone from the Belser family had taken it.

"Now I'll never know what was so valuable to him," Jack said.

"I better get some sleep. I have an early flight home, Mom."

It had been about two weeks since Mr. Belser died. Returning home from work one day Jack discovered a note in his mailbox. "Signature required on a package. No one at home. Please stop by the main post office within the next three days," the note read.

Early the next day Jack went to the post office and retrieved the package. The small box was old and looked like it had been mailed a hundred years ago. The handwriting was difficult to read, but the return address caught his attention.

"Mr. Harold Belser" it read.

Jack took the box out to his car and ripped open the package. There inside was the gold box and an envelope.

Jack's hands shook as he read the note inside.

"Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett. It's the thing I valued most in my life." A small key was taped to the letter. His heart racing, as tears filled his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the box. There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket watch.

Running his fingers slowly over the finely etched casing, he unlatched the cover. Inside he found these words engraved: "Jack, Thanks for your time! -- Harold Belser."

"The thing he valued most was my time!"

Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his office and cleared his appointments for the next two days.*

"Why?" Janet, his assistant asked.

"I need some time to spend with the people I love and say I care for," he said. "Oh, by the way, Janet, thanks for your time!"

"Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away."

Think about this. You may not realize it, but it's 100 percent true.

1. At least 15 people in this world love you in some way.

2. A smile from you can bring happiness to anyone, even if they don't like you.

3. Every night, SOMEONE thinks about you before they go to sleep.

4. You mean the world to someone.

5. If not for you, someone may not be living.

6. You are special and unique.

7. Have trust sooner or later you will get what you wish for or something better.

8. When you make the biggest mistake ever, something good can still come from it.

9. When you think the world has turned its back on you, take a hard look: you most likely turned your back on the world and the people who love and care for you.

10. Someone that you don't even know exists loves you.

11. Always remember the compliments you received. Forget about the rude remarks.

12. Always tell someone how you feel about them; you will feel much better when they know and you'll both be happy.

13. If you have a great friend, take the time to let them know that they are great.

To everyone who is reading this just now....

*"Thanks for your time."

[surely-galena]

MC/Rosa sits the NXX Investigation Team down to binge watch a series of Barbie movies and then asks which was their favorite:

[WC: 0.8K]

Luke: Barbie: Princess Charm School AND/OR Barbie as the Island Princess (to be separated from your place of birth and return years later, changed)

Princess Charm School

Because he laughs out loud every time Portia is on screen. The meme potential of most things in the film delights him

Also, the whole missing princess plot genuinely interests him. MC is telling him there's an assassination cover-up in a Barbie movie? Iiiinteresting.

You know that one scene where Blair and friends have to escape from a locked room using their skills and memory? That's his favorite part.

He likes the friendship and espionage and drama and fantasy political discussion. Also, there's a golden retriever.

The Island Princess

There is something that he relates to in a girl who is lost somewhere for years. Especially when she eventually makes it back to civilization, and finds how different it is -- and realizes how different she is, and how in the end, she still finds the people she lost so long ago.

And those people from years ago recognize her, and they remember her, and they still accept her for who she is even though she is now a different person to the one they lost.

(And she talks to animals, too, but Luke thinks that Peanut counts.)

Artem: Barbie as the Princess and the Pauper (oh to be loved just for who you are)

The message about being accepted for who you are and not the place you are born into hits different for him because so many only see him as that perfect, untouchable lawyer (and bonus points if they recognize him as Bryan Wing's son)

The ballad between Erika and Dominick is so Artem-coded. "In my heart I'd be glad / If you loved me for me" and "Hope will blossom by believing / The heart that lies within"? The lines strike him like an arrow to the chest

In a way, both main couples remind him of the difference in stations between him and MC -- him as a senior attorney and her still yet to take her senior exams

There is a cat. That barks.

He also sees part of himself in Julian because of the quiet leader aspects (and the beatboxing scene in the credits. He almost fell out of his chair when he saw that.)

Vyn: Barbie and the Magic of Pegasus (because horses and sass)

Vyn actually also likes The Princess and the Pauper, but Artem already took that and of course he can never be seen agreeing with Artem, so he slots that into second place and puts another film above it in his ranking

And the movie with that honor is the pegasus one

A member of royalty feeling limited by her parents? The amount of sass and banter in the film between Annika and Aidan? Vyn finds these qualities to be quite charming

He's not sure how he feels about the polar bear with the strangely long eyelashes. He's grateful that it doesn't talk, at the very least.

There are flying horses and sure, maybe the main flying horse is related to the protagonist, but haven't all nobles wished at least once for horses to be able to talk back to them at least once in their childhood?

Marius: Barbie as Rapunzel AND/OR Barbie in the Twelve Dancing Princesses (magic paintbrushes, siblings, and self-expression)

Rapunzel

Part of how much Marius enjoys Rapunzel is because of the wonder that is so prevalent in the film. He does kind of wish he had a magic paintbrush like the one in the movie, but he's also content with enjoying the process of the artwork that he makes.

The fairytale adaptation reminds him of his own childhood when he had spent many hours reading through storybooks.

There is something about being trapped in a small space that disturbs him. It makes him root for Rapunzel.

He's also very satisfied with the way the villain meets her end.

The Twelve Dancing Princesses

Marius finds the music very charming in this one

But there's also: the haunting presence of a dead mom and how her love for them is made clear in what she left for her daughters, and an alive father who means well but does not necessarily always make the right actions

There is the value of self-expression, of refusing to conform to what an overbearing power insists on -- but there's also teamwork and taking responsibility and acting on what one believes to be right

Marius doesn't know anything about having eleven other siblings, but having one is enough to relate to the sisters' bond (especially between Genevieve and Lacey. Hasn't Giann been a Genevieve to him countless times when he was young?).

On the whole, the NXX Investigation Team has more fun than they may have first expected. That's team bonding for you :D

[serene-sun]

˚⛰︎ミ☆𓆦𝕭𝖎𝖌 𝖗𝖊𝖉𓆦☆彡⛰︎˚

Pairing: papa of your choice & teen reader (platonic)

Genre: fluff! Comfort!

“Mm, sleepy.” You mumble under papas throw blanket that draped across you and him on his big leather sofa as a movie played.

He pets your head, trailing his fingers through your hair and massaging your scalp. The feeling makes you uncontrollably moan.

“Cold…” you pout, wiggling more into his back against the couch.

“Come on Angelo, let’s go to bed, it’s far past your bed time.” Papa whispers, his words blowing strands of hair out of your face.

You moan more, too sleepy to move. Papa catches on and decides to motivate you.

“Oh, but guess what papa found in the closet?” Papa teases.

You perk up, unable to hide your love for surprises.

Papa leaves the room, only to return moments later with a familiar red blanket in his arms.

You gasp, recognizing the fabric immediately.

“Wher-?” Before you can ask where he found it, he answers, “ghouls were hoarding it”

You run off to papas big bed, and attempt to get on the tall matress.

“Jeez, it’s seen better days.” He shakes his head.

You motion for him to throw it over you, only to have a bit of sadness swell up in your heart.

It’s….so small?

Papa sees the look of disbelief in your eyes, and sighs softly with a soft smile.

“You’ve grown up allot!” He reassures you.

“But…” you give up, trying to figure out how the blanket shrunk.

“Oh, amore..” he says, brining you into a big hug across his bed as tears swell up at the realization that you weren’t a kid anymore.

“You know…I remember like it was yesterday that we had to franticly search for you under this raggy old thing you were so small.” Papa tells you, petting your hair once more

“It was like a mountain.” You try to distract yourself from any negative thoughts and feelings intruding.

“But amore, it’s just a blanket. I know it holds so many good memory’s, but it’s just fabric! Just because you have grown out of being a small little child doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to feel that love, or be treated differently. I’ll still give you a bath if you please, and you know I don’t mind when you sleep with me.” Papa whispers into your hair as he rests his chin on it.

“I didn’t think time would go by so quickly.” You sigh, the tears spilling from your cheeks.

Papa hums, “I remember how you would even take it to the trampoline, even on joy rides around, and of course down to the basement during bad weather.”

You simply nod, remembering all the years the toughen red fabric releases as you hug it more.

“Oh jeez, it’s late. Come on.” Papa motions for you to lay back down as he gets under it as well.

You can practically smell all of the summer nights on it, as well as the cold winter ones. The feeling of the blanket brings you back to the feeling of the winter cold on your cheeks, but the blanket would bring you that warmth that was of a humans body. It even gave you the faint hearing of the heat Turing on, and how it reminded you of coming home from school and plopping down on the couch that was perfectly over the vent. The big red blanket also brought you back to laying on the trampoline, and how the twinkly lights of the stars speared at the sun was swallowed by the hill side. And how the frogs and crickets sing their lullaby as the moon wakes up, or how the wind would play with your hair as the campfire would crack and warm your feet and hands. Even when you had it draped around yourself at the table playing card games with the ghouls, mountain would look at your cards and help you out since you insisted you ‘knew how to play’, never once, unlike Swiss, did he cheat though.

But now that you had grown more, You found yourself in papas arms falling asleep, even more importantly, wrapped around the warm comfort big red.

A/n: huh what I’m not crying and projecting my childhood trauma into my work??

[hollowwhisperings]

Kairi the Character: The Future of a Grounded Star

The creators of the KH series have emphasized that, going forward, the series will focus on Sora and Riku. They also repeated that KH3 was the story of "childhood friends who drift apart as they grow up" & that change can be sad but is necessary, that people can always re-conect in new ways.

Essentially, the KH team marks KH3 as the "end" of Kairi's Story with Sora & Riku: the end of an age of Childhood Promises, of resisting "Change"... and of growing up "together".

Going forth, the "Destiny Trio" hyped up in marketing & the fandom consciousness is firmly "retired": KH3 ends with Riku's connection to Sora is stronger than ever, Sora on the cusp of a Realization pertaining to Riku being Sora's "Light"... and, as of Melody of Memory, Kairi knows that "following" her two childhood friends is not conducive to helping them nor to herself.

This post will examine the many ways Kairi has "functioned" within the greater narrative of Kingdom Hearts & its themes. It dips into Kairi's Resistance to Change being her greatest inhibitor in taking an active role within the series, how and why her first attempts were met with failure (spoiler: copying your friend's homework can only ever get you so far), why Kairi's "Staying Behind" (Home) is where her own story begins & the importance of Kairi's Distancing herself from the main story of Kingdom Hearts. Kairi's Story has never been the one shared by Sora & Riku: Kairi's Story is found in the wide cast of characters, "crossed-over" and original, and interwoven with the setting's many Mysteries. Kairi, independently of either of KH's protagonists, but together with Others "Left Behind" is a crucial lynchpin to unravelling so many spools of thread: threads held separately by many hands... each confused, in their isolation. Kairi can play a Key Part in "sorting" these threads, in enabling Different Characters to Meet (& so see their Common Threads), and in doing so "consolidate" them all within a "Wider Picture". Mostly, however, I'll be contextualizing Kairi in Themes of "Home" and as "Light".

Kairi the "Starcrossed"

Kairi has spent the KH series thus far in a pattern of "staying behind" and "chasing after her friends". While the former is not actually a bad thing (indeed, it was a Key Element in games past & likely in future too), the latter has lead to immense "disappointment".

Disappointment in fans of Kairi, who believe Kairi is suffering from "Chickification" (demoting a female character to love interest & subsequently removing every aspect of her character to better enable "romance" that better resembles a female acting as an Emotional Support Human). Disappointment from fans of the mysteries in KH's worldbuilding & lore, who find Kairi an inherently Mysterious Character connected to most every Subplot on either side of "Reality".

Disappointment from Kairi herself, who initially mimicked her friend in footstels both literal & figurative only to find that what "strengthens" Sora (or Riku) does not strengthen her. Kairi's desperate efforts to cling to childhood has greatly hindered her personal growth, as most harshly evidenced by her almost-death in KH3 & Sora's disappeatance thereafter. In Melody of Memory, Kairi takes her self-growth more seriously: she wants to reunite with Sora, to renew the closeness they had so recently (for her) yet so seemingly long ago (for us, for Sora himself). By the end of Melody, Kairi "fails" again: this failure was not for naught. Kairi's Failure "demoted" her from the Assumed Role she has long held (in & out-of-universe) of "Designated Love Interest [to Sora]" & Sora's Hypothetical "Prince[ss] Charming".

At the end of Melody, Kairi makes her first true act of personal agency in the series: she requests to train under Master Aqua, a woman who rescued her once in childhood (though Kairi may not remember) & who acted as the "Lynchpin" to the safe returns of the "Wayfinder Trio".

With Master Aqua as Kairi's new mentor, let us return to the subject of "Home" & how "staying behind" (as Kairi consistently chooses to do) is not actually a bad thing.

Kairi's "Homes"

"Home" can be different things to different people. To Sora, homes can be made whenever he connects with new places & friends. Sora also considers the Destiny Islands, especially the "play island" where he spent so many years growing up with Riku & Kairi, to be a "home". To Riku, "home" is wherever Sora is. To Kairi? Home is a much more complicated creature to an amnesiac girl who became a Literal Shooting Star.

The first "home" (that we know of) Kairi had is one she claims to no longer remember: Radiant Garden. This is where Kairi lived prior to the Destiny Islands, the place where the errant Master Aqua met a 4th Princess of Heart and bestowed upon her a [protective blessing/charm] (likely enabling Kairi's safely ending up at the Destiny Islands rather than Traverse Town or even Quadratum). Radiant Garden is also where we met Kairi's Mysteriously Well-Informed "Grandmother", someone whose Stories Kairi remembers even when she (claims) to be otherwise amnesiac of her life prior to "The Meteor Shower".

Other characters from Radiant Garden include Cid, Squall Leonhart, Aerith, Yuffie & Merlin (whom Kairi first met in KH1, in Traverse Town, and who seem Mutually Oblivious as to their Shared Heritage). It was also the home of characters Foreshadowed to be Involved with the "Bloodlines" plotlines of Phase 2 of KH: Ansem, Ienzo (a character whose origins are possibly More Mysterious than Kairi's), Apprentice Xehanort ("Terra-Nort"), "Braig" (the latest Host of Master Luxu), Isa & Axel (friends of the Mysterious "Subject X".

In studying with Master Aqua, Kairi will take her first step in acknowledging her Past & seeking to recover it: that step was made easier, perhaps, by Kairi's befriending fellow keyblade wielder Axel. Axel, like Kairi, is originally from Radiant Garden but has found a "new" Home. Axel's Home is with Isa, Roxas & Xion in Twilight Town: Kairi's Home has long embraced the Destiny Islands as her Home.

Kairi's continued, sometimes stubborn attachment to the Destiny Islands makes Sense: whether she Remembered it or not, the memories immediately prior to her "debut" as a Literal Shooting Star would have been of her being the latest Test Subject of Xehanort. If her memories of Xehanort were not stolen safely away by her young age, Repression or the traumas of Crashlanding into an ocean (possibly featuring a bit of Drowning? between Aqua's Magic & Kairi's Own, hopefully this was one trauma young Kairi was Spared from)... Kairi has Good Reason to disassociate with Radiant Garden & its labs. That Kairi willingly submitted herself to be studied in sleep by Ansem & his reformed Apprentices for a year? That in itself was an act of Remarkable Bravery and True Desperation. "Survivor's Guilt" is one of many potential "Darknesses" that Kairi, a Princess of Light, may need to Accept into herself to "grow" beyond that role & into young adulthood (as all other Original Princesses of Heart did). It is a subject Familiar to Kairi's Peers, the Princesses & those "left behind".

Yet Kairi is not someone "left behind" by the narrative: Kairi is someone who Chooses to Stay Home. This "passive" choice of Kairi's, to be a person to Return To and a Representation of "Home" has been the most plot-relevant aspect of her character since KH1 & continued to be her Key Narrative Function... right until "the power of childhood promises" was brutally, thoroughly Proven Insufficent. Childhood Promises were Kairi's "theme": with each timeskip, each near-death experience, Kairi's friends had Grown Up & Apart from her. "Promises" could not be as carelessly, made as meaningfully fulfilled in the Stakes of young adulthood & War: KH3 forces Sora, Kairi & players to recognise that "promises are for children"¹.

That is not to say that Kairi's Choices to "Stay Home" are bad: Kairi is not weaker for seeking the security of a fixed "home". Kairi has lost every Home she has ever had. That she clung to the "idea" of the Destiny Islands, once the world was restored, is consistent with how Kairi has been shaped by her own Traumas (well before & then in opposition to Sora and Riku, who found "Home" in each other more than once).

Kairi & "Safe Return"

Recall now the Wayfinding Charm Kairi made for herself & her friends as her "contribution" to their Raft Project: thalassa shells set in a starfruit's shape, a Sailor's Promise of "finding their way home". Unlike Riku "the Reverse-Little Mermaid" or Sora "the Adventurer", Kairi only worked on the Raft so her friends wouldn't leave her behind. Kairi was genuinely worried of being lost at sea, something she was miraculously spared from when she crashed into the waters of Destiny Islands.

In KH2, Kairi sends a "message in a bottle": while how sizable its role really was in providing a "Door to Light" for the stranded Sora & Riku is ~vague~ due to its "Timing" (right after a Heart-to-Heart between two uniquely "bright" Keyblade wielders), Kairi's "wish" in bottle-form certainly helped in said Door's directly opening to the Destiny Islands specifically.

Kairi & "Geography"

Then there is KH3's "Tunnel of Light" sequence. While players may Expect that the Abrupt Deus Ex Machina as "GPS Princess Kairi Saves The Day Offscreen, Again"... the sequence is Deliberately Misleading.

Sora's initial recognition of his "Light" as Riku's Light is correct: Riku, now and always, is the "Light" Sora knows best. Riku is also Found At The Tunnel's End: Kairi, however, was with Sora the whole time. Kairi was Geographically Incapable of being Sora's "Light" because she was right next to him, following Sora as he was lead by Riku's Light.

The entire "Light Tunnel" scene in KH3 is referential to the Infamous Meteor Shower event recalled by Sora & Riku in CoM.

Sora and Riku both recall watching a Meteor Shower with Someone Very Important to Their Heart(s). During this Meteor Shower, the person Naminé replaces feared that a Meteor (a Shooting Star) would strike the Destiny Islands: Sora or Riku then promised to [always protect] the Person Naminé Replaces in this Shared Memory. It is Naminé's placing herself within This Memory that prompts the Drastic Increase in [Devotion] from both Sora AND Riku['s Replica]. Due to Naminé's previously inserting herself into either boy's memories in Kairi's place, players "expected" that the True Memory & the Promises of Protection must have "also" been With Kairi.

...except that Kairi could not have exchanged anything with anyone during That Meteor Shower: Kairi was the Meteor Shower, one of its meteors & its most Significant Shooting Star. The promises that both boys recall making were made to each other: they exchanged tokens by the light of a Shooting Star.

Ascertaining Kairi's "Relative Geography" is the Vital Clue to many of her Weirder Moments throughout the series: in Sora & Riku's Shared Memory of a Meteor Shower, Kairi was a Meteor; in the Tunnel of Light sequence, Kairi was inside the Tunnel & not at its End; when Sora & Riku find themselves stranded in Another Side of Reality, as they once were in the depths of the Realm of Darkness, Kairi will be their Connection Home.

Kairi the "Lighthouse Keeper"

Kairi, through imagery & Choices, has made herself into a "Guiding Star". She is no longer a "starcrossed meteor" of Sora's: Kairi is the Fixed Point of "Home", her Home.

Kairi has become not a Lighthouse but its Keeper: she "tends the hearth" that is her own Heart, one that shines its light from the Destiny Islands where she "stays behind". As a Princess of Light, Kairi can act as the "Keeper" of her own Light: she can determine where it shines brightest ("home" in the Destiny Islands), who it guides (those Lost in Darkness, friends)... amongst other things.

This role of "Hearthkeeper" or "Lighthouse" will not give Kairi any dramatic rise in martial prowess, magical or otherwise. Kairi is Not Sora & she's Not Riku either: their strengths are theirs and Kairi has yet to even consider that her own strengths could be entirely different (& helpful for entirely separate situations). Narratively, making Kairi a "magical powerhouse" is unproductive: other characters are Experienced Battle Mages, their skills & prowess Well Established as Terrifying Extremely Competent.

Rather tham becoming Yet Another War Mage, I would speculate that Kairi's role is something more "unique" to her person & something sorely needed on This Side of Reality: an "Illuminator" not only of pressing dangers and safer shores but of the setting's Mysteries, old and "new". Kairi is already capable of acting in this role: she just hasn't had the opportunity to realise it yet.

Kairi the "Illuminator"

As a Princess of Light, Kairi connects any & all Disney princess past or future: the Princesses are "Torchbearers", their Hearts host to the still-burning remnants of the Ancient X-Blade's Light. These seven individuals are essential to the stability of the Realm of Light, in the absence of Kingdom Hearts. Their endangerment in KH1 was apocalyptic for all Known Worlds: finding the successors of Kairi's Peers in KH3 was a subplot "dropped" upon the miraculous recovering of Master Aqua & her lost friends thereafter. By "staying behind", Kairi's story as a Princess is possible to explore without the risk of her being assumed to be Sora's Princess (or, heavens forbid, Riku's).

As her Grandmother's [lorekeeper] & as a keyblade wielder herself, Kairi is connected to the mythology of the Keyblade Wars of the Ancient Past: the Master of Masters, the Foretellers & how history has seemed Doomed to Repeat. Kairi's placement as "student of Aqua" puts her (& her grandmother's stories) in proximity to Ventus, an amnesiac whose history lies hidden within such stories. That Ven too is "pure of heart" (albeit artificially) is another means of consolidating story threads: how similar is Ven, post-Xehanort, to Kairi the Princess of Heart? How are their Hearts different from each other's & why was Riku's ability to meld his Darkness to his Light so seemingly unprecedented? Is "lack of darkness" holding Kairi back, as a keyblade wielder? Or will Kairi (& Ven) be used by the likes of the Foretellers as "precedent" for all to follow?

As a Wayward Daughter of Radiant Garden, any explorations into Kairi's Life prior to her stint as a Shooting Star opens the world's history to Other Interested Parties: Kairi's hypothetical birth family, for one, and the Concerned Friends of "Subject X". It also requires an Addressing of Xehanort's Time apprenticed to Ansem the Wise... and Questions on how, exactly, he & Ansem "acquired" their Test Subjects in the first place. The technology used to send Kairi from Radiant Garden bears Remarkable Resemblance (in function, if not "form") to that used by the Dandelions. Was there, perhaps, some "reverse-engineering" in play? From Whomst couldst Xehanort Possibly Findeth Such An Arc, one of So Very Few?

Oh, Hi There, Ventus the Secret Dandelion: have you seen the Other, Long-term Human Test Subject? No, not Kairi. One escaped from [our setting]'s Other Resident [Evil] Scientist? Ansem the Wise?

...I May or May Not Harbour Deep Mistrust & Plentiful Suspicions regarding the man formerly known as "DiZ" (for example: did Master Yen Sid ever hear about Ansem's misappropriating his name, just as Xehanort did with Ansem's own?).

That aside, let us continue exploring how Kairi's "staying behind" is much more interesting than putting her back into Sora's Coming Of Age Story for No Actual Narrative Purpose (except to continue in her past role of "Being Conveniently Female"?).

Kairi the "Supporting Character"

Kairi's "Potential" has been Unexplored for nearly the entire series: her resistance to Change, to "leaving Home" & her Seeking Security in Familiar Things has kept Kairi from involving herself in anything "unrelated" to Sora & Riku. Being the series' protagonists, Sora & Riku have been Out Of The Loop on the wider mysteries of their setting: mysteries that Kairi (willingly or otherwise) is intrinsically connected to.

By again Choosing to "Stay", Kairi is able to act as the Fixed Point of Reality's "worldbuilding": Kairi is the connecting character for keyblade wielders to Disney Princesses, the point of reference to clarify "past" from "present" (this is more speculative, contingent to Kairi or Any of the Seven Lights existing as "fixed points" in Reality), and the Meeting Ground of characters (& plot points) old & "new".

Kairi's adjacency to Every Worldbuilding Subplot on This Side of "Reality" makes her an extremely useful Supporting Character. By departing from the "main" story of KH (that of Sora & Riku's "Comimg Of Age"), Kairi is free to support characters in their "shared" stories. Many of these "shared stories" all end up featuring Kairi, as a reference point or otherwise "Key" figure.

As a Supporting Character to Literally Anyone Other than Sora or Riku, Kairi is in great demand (see Speculations Above).

To her Childhood Friends, as they enter Their Arc on Sora's Darkness & the Continued Explorations of the many ways Hearts "Combine"?

The best way that Kairi can help her friends is by doing what she always has (now with other characters supporting her): being a "Fixed Point" in their Reality.

Kairi is no longer Sora's "Starcrossed" Meteor: her role, in his story & Riku's, is to now be that Beacon that Guides Travelers in Dark Seas, the "Lighthouse Keeper" keeping ships mindful of the shoreline & directing sailors to Safe Harbour. When Sora & Riku, weary from whatever Quadratum demands of them, would seek passage through death & dream to Another Side of Reality? Kairi will be There for them, a friend whose life has continued in their absence, ready to welcome them "home".

Conclusion

Kairi was a Reluctant Protagonist and an Absent Love Interest: that was Intentional, as evidenced by the Thematic (& Literal) "Geography" of Key Points in Sora & Riku's Coming of Age story being impossible for Kairi to have actually been "there" to fulfil such roles. Kairi's biggest strength, thus far, was her Faith & Innocent Love enabling her Friends to Find Their Way Home.

Kairi is strong: Sora tells her as much, in the Actual Text of the Tunnel Sequence. Kairi has, however, been "stagnant" in her strength. She can only truly become "stronger" when she needs not constantly compare herself to Riku or Sora (whose strengths are their own, not Kairi's: she has ever been mimicking their footsteps, never able to fill their shoes nor willing to consider getting different shoes for herself to wear instead).

As Kairi grows up & apart from "Childhood", Kairi can make new friends & find new "purpose". Rather than finding herself a "poor subsitute" for Riku or Sora, Kairi can seek the training they never had an opportunity to have & do so in ways neither boy may have "preferred" but Kairi would. Limiting herself to "one-of-three" (a Destiny "Trio") has never made Kairi Stronger, not in the way it has for Other Trios in the series: the "Destiny Trio" was never of the same nature as subsequent trios, the recurring & contrastingly "equilateral" dynamics being KH's means of indicating that, often in life, the friend groups you start out with aren't meant to last. People change and so does the ways they can or would want to relate to each other: is KH to is the story's method of showing the different friendships we can or "used to" have, some friendships remaining unchanged for life & others changing along with its members. to truly grow up, Kairi had to let go the "forever friends" of her childhood. They have been growing up: now Kairi will too.

Footnotes

¹An existing exploration of KH3's distinctions between "childhood promises" & "Oaths" can be found here, on Youtube. It includes a line-by-line analysis of KH's "thesis" on this Theme, Utada Hikaru's "Chikai". My only addition to said video essay is on how its structure acts as a Callback to KH3's immediately preceding title, Dream Drop Distance.

"Chikai" exists distinctly & complementary to the song that shares its melody, "Don't Think Twice". The songs, like the entire premise of Dream Drop, are two perspectives of a shared experience: this is Foreshadowing, specifically pertaining to the concepts of Mirrored Realities & the different ways Hearts can be Combined.

That last theme is especially pertinent given the Various Ways that artificially "combining hearts" has already been used to form or summon the eponymous Kingdom Hearts. This will be the Bloodlines Arc, afterall: "blood" will be Explored, in ways both Literal (ancestry, familial inheritance, generational keyblade violence) & Figurative (keyblades as a concept, Darkness as the "bleeding" of a Heart, the "oldblood" versus the "new"). That any & all depictions of blood will be censored into Water or as "Darkness" is par for the course.

²Kairi, Sora & Riku were never "a family" [trauma-bonded] to each other in the ways of the "Wayfinder" or "Seasalt" Trios. Kairi & Sora are only one (1) year younger than Riku: that means a lot, as a kid, but matters less & less the older you become. Axel's success in his role as "life coach" & "cool older brother" to the [newborn] teens Roxas & Xion highlights the difference that Age & aging has in one's friendship dynamics: Axel was the age of his friends when he "joined" Organization XIII and can thusly prepare them for what they will experience. Upon Isa's "resurrection", Axel keeps his childhood best friend with him: the changes this would prompt in the "Seasalt Trio" have inspired many an "Axel the No Longer Single Dad" joke, if not with that specific wording.

My Elaboration on Relative Age in the Dynamics of KH's Iconic Trios got, uh, Longer Than intended: its elaborated form has been Squirrel'd Away for "Later, Maybe".