forgotten childhood

This woman was messed up, but I still can’t bring myself to hate her completely. She deserved better too imo

mademoiselle-loser-deactivated2  asked:

Is there a word for the fear/phobia of being forgotten specifically by our most loved one(s)?

Athazagoraphobia is an irrational fear of forgetting, being forgotten or ignored, or replaced.

The fear of being forgotten can arise in childhood if the individual has been left alone or has been ignored for a long time. Medical reasons, particularly dementia and Alzheimers’, can also trigger the fear of forgetting things. Often, family members of people with conditions like amnesia or memory loss fear being forgotten by the patient.

On the other hand, Vergissmeinnicht (lit. “forget-me-not”) is a plant with 5-lobed blue, pink or white flowers with yellow centers. In 15th-century Germany, it was supposed that the wearers of the flower would not be forgotten by their lovers. 

Legend has it that in medieval times, a knight and his lady were walking along the side of a river. He picked a posy of flowers, but because of the weight of his armour he fell into the river. As he was drowning he threw the posy to his loved one and shouted “forget me not”. It was often worn by ladies as a sign of faithfulness and enduring love.


I just mean during the day. Daylight. When was the last time you remember seeing it? And I’m not talking about some distant, half-forgotten childhood memory, I mean like yesterday. Last week. Can you come up with a single memory? You can’t, can you? You know something, I don’t think the sun even… exists… in this place. ‘Cause I’ve been up for hours, and hours, and hours, and the night never ends here.

DARK CITY (1998) dir. Alex Proyas

The thing that cracks me up about the whole “It’s a music box… it’s broken, I can’t get it open” thing right before Once Upon a December is that,, Anya just… twisted a knob in the bottom or something, even if it was a part or her forgotten childhood it shouldn’t have been that hard to figure out Dmitri how much time did you spend on this???

finnrey aus [1/???]: the x-files

rey’s past was a mystery, even to her. when she was a little girl, she was found wandering down a highway in the desert, miles away from the nearest town with no memory of who she was or where she’d come from. her dreams were always plagued by strange, alien figures and bright lights that seemed too vivid to just be products of her imagination. rey never investigated her suspicions, at least not until after she joined the rio (republic intelligence office) as a junior agent. her natural aptitude at profiling and skill with technology put her on the fast track to an illustrious career. however, after her first major case, she got side tracked by an unofficial ‘x-files’ project. these x-files documented years of cases with one thing in common: conventional science couldn’t explain them. rey quickly found herself delving into the paranormal hoping for answers to questions she’d been asking all her life.

finn, a straitlaced, driven junior agent was also a rising star in science division of the rio until assistant director ben solo personally reassigned him to the x-files. his assignment? observe and evaluate rey’s work to determine the validity of the x-files. he was intent on debunking her work, but rey’s steadfast belief in a truth beyond anything either of them could imagine shook his faith. he found himself questioning the motives of his superiors and their dedication to obstructing the x-files investigations. when the x-files brought to light his own forgotten childhood with the knights of ren, an extremist cult dedicated to the worship of an alien “force”, matters were complicated even further.

in the face of their warring pasts and presents, government cover ups, and an unknowable evil lurking on the fringes of their reality, finn and rey find that, in order to get to the truth, they can trust no one but each other.

Cutting Silver - by lucyoverspilledvodka

(co-written by yours truly and @victorsporosya )

In which Yuuri discovers something life-changing about his idol and fiance

Yuuri stood in the bathroom of Victor’s apartment—it still felt far too early to be comfortable dubbing it their apartment—having a small existential crisis. Whatever he had been looking for or wanting to put away in the sink cabinet was utterly forgotten. His childhood hero, his first love, his eternal idol… a deception from the very beginning.

The characters on the bottle were majorly Cyrillic, but there was really no mistaking to design and thus its purpose.

“Yuuri, what are you—” Just as Yuuri had lost his train of thought, Victor lost his words the moment he saw what his fiancé was holding.

“Is that why you cut it?” Yuuri asked, looking up from the bottle to Victor. “The ends were so dead from years of bleach?”

“It’s just a toner,” Victor defended, sounding unsure of himself.

“Really?” Yuuri flipped the bottle over, studying the script printed across the label. “Because it looks like dye.”

As delicately as he could, Victor took the bottle from Yuuri’s hands and replaced it in the sink cabinet. “You don’t really think that I—”

“Color your hair?” Yuuri finished for him, eyes traveling suspiciously along Victor’s hairline. He made to touch the strands, then pulled his hand back at the last moment as if dejected. “I can’t believe this…” he muttered, brushing past Victor on his way to their living room. “My whole life, a lie. My fiancé, a liar. How can I achieve gold when even the silver in my life is unattainable?”

Yuuri flopped with resignation onto the couch, Makkachin hopping on top of him for company.

Two sets of brown eyes judged Victor, who collapsed on the floor in front of Yuuri, grasping for his hands. “Yuuri, my darling, my angel, I swear I’m not lying. Come on, how could you think that? I’ll throw it away right now.” He paused, thinking, “You can shower with me every day for a month to see that it’s true.”

Victor’s blue eyes shimmered with his pleading, but Yuuri’s thoughts traveled to Victor’s grueling quad practice the previous day, leaving him completely unsympathetic. Instead, he turned his face away as dramatically as Victor taught him and sighed. “I don’t think we should shower together anymore, Victor. This is world-altering. I need time.”

Pout pushing out his lower lip, Victor sat back. Yuuri refused to turn back toward him.

Pursing his mouth, Victor reached up, sweeping away his own bangs before tentatively running his fingers through his hair. “I’ll prove it to you,” he said, eyes trained on Yuuri, determination sprinting across his face. “I’ll shave it off.”

Victor expected Yuuri to break. Expected to receive that panicked little squeak which he adored, as Yuuri kicked Makkachin off the couch in his hurry to sit up and grasp onto Victor, expected to hear him command Victor not to touch his beautiful hair, expected the confession that Yuuri had only been knowingly joking.

Yuuri turned to face Victor again, face blank as he stated, “Okay then.”

A blink. A moment. Then another. Yuuri’s brown eyes did not break from his, challenging and unyielding.

Taking a deep breath while trying not to show it too much, Victor swallowed and pushed himself up off the floor, standing over Yuuri.

His hands fisted against his side, but he would not be the one to break. “Okay then.”

Yuuri watched Victor start to move, a very small sense of dread building in the pit of his stomach. “What are you doing?”

“Proving it to you.”

Victor vanished down the hall, towards the bathroom. For a moment, Yuuri did not move. He knew Victor wasn’t going to shave his hair off. He knew that… right?

Yuuri dislodged Makkachin and followed Victor down the hall, into the bathroom, to see Victor on his knees searching through the lower cabinet.

“Just looking for the clippers,” Victor said airily and Yuuri crossed his arms. No way Victor was actually going to go through with his threat… Then again, Victor had cut his trademark hair the night before an ISU competition, without telling anyone, all for the sake of a surprise.

Victor hummed the tune to Stammi Vicino as he searched, taking his time. Yuuri saw him fumble with the clippers a little once they had been located, fidgeting with the settings. “You’re gonna do it…” The exhale was an attempt at steady, betrayed by a hitch.

“I said I’ll prove it to you, love. If you don’t believe me.” Victor rose and turned, clippers in hand.

Yuuri’s eyes met him. And did not back down. “Do it then.”

Victor thumbed at the switch, turning the device on. The bathroom filled with the buzzing, vibrating off the tile, waiting for either of them to break.

When Yuuri still said nothing, Victor lifted up the clippers with a flourish. Checked the settings. Looked back up at Yuuri. Still nothing. He turned to face the mirror, running a hand through his hair, and raised the clippers.

Yuuri’s heart began to panic inside his chest. He could see Victor’s blue eyes challenging him in the reflection of the mirror, could see himself leaning against the door of the bathroom in the corner. Then Victor raised the clippers to the edge of his hair, just by his ear.

The buzzing grew deafening and the clippers met the ends of Victor’s undercut—

“Alright! Stop, stop!”

Except that Victor didn’t. Despite the protest, he ran the comb of the clippers through his hair in a long swooping motion, drawing out a terrified shriek from Yuuri.

The very next second, Yuuri tore the clippers out of his hands, leaping to see the damage and—nothing.

Victor burst into laughter, all the more when Yuuri’s comically wide-eyes continued to search his untouched hairline.


“I took the blade out,” Victor said and held up the clippers for Yuuri to see. No blade. Victor’s hair remained intact.

Yuuri very slowly reached his hands up, running his fingers through Victor’s hair. Victor preened, just a little, leaning into Yuuri’s touch.

“You…” Yuuri started, voice soft and eyes slowly narrowing. He looked up at Victor through his lashes and Victor’s heart picked up. He knew that look, anticipation bubbling up inside him.

“You tricked me,” Yuuri whispered, leaning up and brushing his lips against Victor’s cheek. Victor’s fringe caught between them, tickling.

“Only a little,” Victor replied, waiting for Yuuri to kiss him properly.

Yuuri pulled back, looked at Victor’s mouth with dark eyes, and his grip tightened in his Victor’s hair. Then, Yuuri tugged. Harder than usual. Victor’s head tilted back, Yuuri’s lips just hovering.


“Coward,” Yuuri said, before releasing Victor entirely and walked out of the bathroom, hips swaying as he did so.

“Yuuri— wait, what?” Victor stammered, abandoned in the bathroom. Quickly turning off the clippers, he bounced after Yuuri and back down the hall towards the living area. Yuuri was in the kitchen, making tea with the coolest expression Victor had ever seen on him.


“And I thought you loved me,” Yuuri sighed heavily, in a manner most unlike him. “Should’ve known Victor Nikiforov would’ve loved his hair more than his dime a dozen fiancé.”

“Yuuri!” Victor whined, walking straight through the kitchen to wrap his arms around Yuuri’s waist, resting his head on Yuuri’s shoulder. “Don’t be like that, it was a joke!”

“Hmm,” Yuuri hummed, ignoring Victor. Victor tightened his grip, kissing Yuuri’s neck.

“Yuuri, please.”


“Yuuri!” The whimper sounded excessive even to Victor’s own ears, but he could not bring himself to care.

Then Yuuri started to shake in Victor’s arms. Panic flashes through Victor at the thought that Yuuri might be crying. He twisted so he could cup Yuuri’s face in his hands and rain down apologies, and then realized that Yuuri was laughing.

“…You’re teasing me.”

“Only a little,” Yuuri imitated, relishing Victor’s broken expression before leaning back, turning a bit to kiss at Victor’s cheek. “You teased me first.”

“Does this mean you believe me?” Victor asked, more than relieved. The joke had been a little cruel. But that expression on Yuuri’s face had been so worth it.

“Technically you still haven’t proven anything,” Yuuri reminded him, even as he touched another kiss to Victor’s cheek.

A hum came from Victor and he tapped at his lips with a finger in consideration. “I’ve got some baby pictures,” he offered and even in their current position of back to chest, he could see the glint in Yuuri’s eyes. The one he’s dubbed Yuuri’s fanboy sparkle.

He was proven to be right when Yuuri’s voice trembled a bit at the start of his response. “O-oh? Well, if they’re not in black and white.”

“Keep talking and I won’t show you all of them,” Victor responded, kissing Yuuri’s hair before bouncing off to find an old photo album probably crammed somewhere dusty.

“All the more proof that you really don’t love me.”

Victor whined all the way to the bookshelf.


A/N: Whoa. I still exist. Sorry about the season-long writer’s block guys, yikes. Ok anyways you can thank dear Kumi ( @mellifluous-melodramas ) for getting me inspired enough to start writing again. She wrote this badass Unseelie!Seb fic and it brought me back to my Iron Fey days and I was so impelled to write something of my own that here I am. Writing nearly 2.5 thousand words in an hour. A personal record. (It usually takes me four-five hours to crank out that many)

Song Inspo: Across the Stars by John Williams

Pairing: Bucky/Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Bad writing? 2.5 words is a lot in an hour my friends…

My prompt: You are a kid’s imaginary friend. He’s growing up. You’re fading away.

Originally posted by mebeingbored1

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Scenery - Taeyong [1]

Suggested: Can you write some fluff of you having a study date in the park where you had art homework and you draw each other? with Winwin, Taeyong or Johnny? 

HI, Could you do dating scenario with Taeyong, not smut! Just a cutie dating one. Sorry for my bad English though. 

A/N: Hai friends. Here is the long awaited fluff. I really didn’t mean to turn this into a series but…here we are. I changed it around a bit but definitely put your suggestions to good use (I hope!) I know this took me forever to write lol. Sorry guys! hope you like it though <3
-Admin Ivy 

Word Count: 981

Originally posted by taeyongd

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First Love || Chan

Word Count: 711

Genre: drabble, fluff

Inspired by (x)

First love is something that comes to you when you least expect it. It comes as a soft smile, the meeting of an eye, and the exchange of a few words. It comes when you don’t look for it. It comes while you’re minding your own business and it comes as a gentle tap. The gentle tap makes you turn around and when your eyes meet, you feel as if you’re staring into a pair of stars, filled with dreams that could be fulfilled if you two were together.

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Johnlock in ‘The Final Problem’

I know we didn’t get the cannon Johnlock confirmation that we needed and deserved (*cries*), but we still got plenty of subtext. In case you need cheering up, here are (most of) the Johnlock moments from the episode:

  • John helping Sherlock terrify Mycroft with the crazy clown
  • Sherlock getting really, really defensive when Mycroft asks John to leave:
    • “This is family.” “That’s why he stays!”
    • I think this is when Mycroft realizes just how much John means to Sherlock.
    • John’s little smile when Sherlock says that <3
  • When the patience grenade landed, one of the first things Sherlock thought of was John.
    • “Is a phone call possible? John has a daughter. He may wish to say goodbye.”
  • John just lost his wife and has a baby, and he still leaves everything behind to accompany Sherlock on his mission.
  • When Eurus attacked Sherlock, John heard his screams of agony and it galvanised him into action. He literally fended off two orderlies who were trained to deal with mentally unstable patients.
  • Sherlock didn’t even think about asking John to kill the Governor.
    • Despite the fact that John is a soldier.
  • When Sherlock had to say “I love you” to Molly, you could see the pain on his face and hear it in his voice.
    • Partly because he didn’t mean it and hated breaking her this way.
    • Also because the man he loves is standing right behind him.
    • Also, apparently this scene was edited in at the last minute, because nobody except Moffat and Gatiss liked the scene it replaced. Martin Freeman said something about filming a very emotional scene for this episode; but John didn’t really have any emotional scenes? Was the one before this possibly a Johnlock scene?!
    • Also, BEHOLD JOHN’S ACTUAL EXPRESSION IN THIS SCENE. Can you see the tears shining in his eyes? LOOK CAREFULLY.
  • After Sherlock smashed the coffin and went to pieces, John was right there to comfort him.
    • Even though John had almost gone to pieces himself because of what happened to the Governor.
    • Maybe I’m reading into this, but they held hands for a few moments longer than necessary, and is John…smiling?
  • AND MY FAVOURITE SCENE: When Sherlock had to choose who to kill: John or Mycroft, and Mycroft starts insulting John to get Sherlock riled up. Honestly, I loved Mycroft so much in this episode.
    • Sherlock says, “He’s trying to make it easy for me to kill him.“ It’s obvious that neither Sherlock nor Mycroft even considered killing John. Although Sherlock didn’t end up killing Mycroft, he almost did, whereas the thought of killing John was just…unthinkable. Out of the question.
    • Mycroft knew how much John meant to Sherlock, and he couldn’t watch his brother kill the man he loves. (Throwback to A Study In Pink, when Mycroft shipped Johnlock from Day 1)
  • OHMYGOD, throughout this episode, John and Sherlock have been asking each other “Are you okay?” in the smollest, softest voices.
  • The pure AGONY on Sherlock’s face when he realizes that John’s in danger and he can’t reach him.
  • When Sherlock finds out about Victor, he cries.
    • I don’t think he cries about the murder of a long-forgotten childhood friend.
    • He cries because he realizes that Eurus is going to take John away in the exact same way.
  • He hugs his psychotic sister, even though he must HATE her right now, having learnt the truth about Victor, and knowing what she’s about to do to John.
    • Partly because he feels sorry for her, maybe?
    • Mostly because it brings him one step closer to saving John.
  • “It is what it is.” THIS MOMENT. ICONIC.
    • John remembers the hug, he remembers what Sherlock said to him.
    • He acknowledges the fact that The Hug was a MOMENT.
  • MARY’S CD THO. “PS, I know you two. If I’m gone, I know what you could become.”
    • She’s almost directly saying that they’re gay for each other and now that she’s out of the way, THEY NEED TO ACCEPT IT??
    • Look at the meaningful way Sherlock looks at John when she says that <3
  • OHMYGOD. Sherlock’s finally allowed to play with Rosie. THEY’RE GOING TO RAISE HER TOGETHER ASDFGHJKL. Can we put a ring on it now?
  • Honestly, them holding hands when they run out is the only confirmation we would’ve needed.

This episode was such a rollercoaster ride of emotions. I really don’t think that Eurus is just going to stay put now; Sherlock said he would take her home and then went back on his word. Playing duets together doesn’t really mean much. I have a feeling we’ll see more of her in the new season - if there is one :(


time passes differently here

a dark dark corner
that no one knows
spider’s web
and ballet shoes

a place few remembers
a place from yesterday

I am sitting there too
behind a Lego castle
and all of Barbie’s clothes

no one remembers
no one cares

a doll, a doll is all I am
a hollow shell
a childhood token
a memory someone forgot

and once in a while
I am thinking of
all the funny times
we once shared

but it was a long time ago
I am just a broken vessel
a long forgotten friend

we are all here
collecting dust
waiting, knowing
our time was yesterday

and tomorrow
and the day after
and the day after that
is yet another new day
in which we will never belong

-//- @celtic-poetry

Aug ‘17 MS2SL Peek - Graffiti Nights

Here’s a sneak peek at what I’ve been working on for @mores2sl. Come join us for a worthy cause because cancer sucks!

Summary: A drunk neighbor selling artisan craft beers, whatever the hell that means. Douchebags with no knowledge of classical music or basic human decency. A shirtless street artist whose paintings unfortunately help her make more money as she performs, and muggy nights filled with painful memories…and yet, Katniss can’t seem to stop coming to Panem’s monthly Graffiti Nights festivals.

Rating: Probably M for sexual content. Other warnings may apply

One by one, Katniss pulls items out of of her bag and checks them over before placing them in a careful line on her table. It would not do for her to forget something she might need tonight. Reassured that everything is present and accounted for, she begins the painstaking process of returning it all to her bag. A slim wallet with her identification papers and her permit. A faded pouch, pink and soft green with the printed strawberries of forgotten childhoods, which she opens and checks a second time. Shaking it slightly to listen to the rattle of the pills, comforting in their routine.

One of the blues on Monday. One of the greens every morning. A half red-half white mutt of a pill for breakfast and dinner. She zips the pouch and places it in the bag next to the wallet. A BPA free water bottle filled to the brim. Sterilizing tablets in case she has to get water from a public fountain. Two pads and a pair of socks. A cannister of pepper spray. Four whole grain granola bars with dried cranberries. A leather portfolio with sheet music she never references since she has all of the music memorized. Portable speakers for her phone in case she decides to play something that requires background accompaniment. A spiral bound notebook and a pen with a peacock feather taped to the shaft, to write down the thoughts that strike swift as lightning but that she can’t trust to memory.

Satisfied, she stands and shakes out the skirt of the sunny yellow dress. Normally, Katniss wears pants to perform, but tonight is a special night. An anniversary. And she won’t let the occasion go unmarked. A little long on her, the skirt drags on the ground. Prim had already grown several inches taller than Katniss when she died.

Katniss then lifts the final piece of her wardrobe from the table, a faded black top hat. She spins it by the brim between her palms as she often watched her father do before he took to the stage and sets it on her head at an angle. The satin brim slices across one eye, partially obscuring her view. She hates having one of her senses dulled like this, but the effect is more important. She grabs the matching top hat, the shorter one her mother wore, and places it carefully inside the bag.

With strap slung over her shoulder and music running through her mind on a loop, Katniss palms the handle of her violin case and plods towards her front door. Before she leaves, though, she pauses in front of the only thing hanging on her walls, a framed and faded photograph of the ones she loved. Her entire world. She bows to them and then presses three fingers of her left hand to her lips before transferring the kiss to them.

“For Prim,” she murmurs.

The Lady in Red (7/?)

Title: The Lady in Red (7/?)
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem Reader
Words: 1848
Warnings: Some violence

Tony ordered a suite for Y/N, FRIDAY working her magic and taking measurements and getting everything perfect. Y/N wasn’t sure how she felt about having a suite, she wasn’t an Avenger, but it made sense because Steve had insisted on a bullet resistant lining in the top. The suit was dark red with black accents. The black boots came half way up her calves and held a pocket for knives in each side, Natasha’s addition. Other than that, there were hidden pockets all over the place.

The team met in the hanger. Y/N watched SHIELD agents load equipment onto the jet. Sam walked by carrying his wings and winked at her. Y/N was only a little nervous. She would be surrounded with people who had quickly become like family to her. She knew she would do anything for them and they for her, but the thought of going back into a HYDRA base was a little scary. She was so steeped in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Steve standing next to her until he lightly bumped her with his hip.

“Hey in there, you alright?” He asked quietly.

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