#and that love and support from the others helps him immensely as he continuously has to work through trauma after trauma from his whole life

[catboyidia]

since sephiroth seems to have some sort of aversion to being photographed, i would like to think that in a better universe he would take up photography as a hobby! sort of as a way to take back and reclaim something he associated with negative emotions!

he would take pictures of things important to him and things that made him happy so he could start associating photographs with fond memories and the people he loves! he would take pictures of zack and cloud during whatever goofy shenanigans they got up to! and he would photograph genesis and angeal any chance he could, preserving the happy, silly, and romantic moments that they would share!

genesis, angeal, zack and cloud would indulge in sephiroth’s hobby, wanting to help sephiroth as much as they can! and over time he would slowly warm up to the idea of being in the pictures himself with angeal, genesis, zack and cloud right by his side the entire time! and eventually he really would grow more comfortable with being photographed, because now he can associate it with love and joy as opposed to the negativity and trauma he previously felt

[northgazaupdates]

Please support our friend

Graphic design artist and journalist Moataz Abu Sakran @moatazart was still finishing his beautiful home in Gaza City when the IOF bombed it. They destroyed everything he and his wife Maryam had built, leaving him, Maryam, and their baby girl Maria homeless. Moataz lost the ability to work, and his family is struggling to get food. They have been repeatedly under siege by the occupation, including during the long siege of the Al-Shifa Medical Complex area.

Despite all of this, Moataz continues to make content about Gaza, risking his life and going to unimaginable effort to inform people about real conditions on the ground in the north of the Strip. His tumblr (above) and Instagram accounts are both active, and you can view his work there. This blog often cites Moataz, and major news outlets like Al Jazeera as well as social media influencers have also used his photos and footage, usually without any recognition.

Moataz, Maryam, and Maria were about to evacuate to Egypt to temporarily resettle there for their own safety. Their plan was to find safety in Egypt, and find work there until they were able to return to Gaza. The border is currently closed due to illegal IOF seizure, but it will reopen. They still plan to travel to Egypt for their own safety and to find work, but for now that is too far into the future to be of any consolation. They have no intention of leaving Gaza permanently, they love their home and are determined to rebuild it.

You can help them rebuild their home by supporting them here. The rebuilding cost is significant, and the fundraising will have to be done in stages. Unfortunately, this first stage has seen very little progress. You can help Palestinians be able to keep living in Gaza by supporting their reconstruction funds. No amount is too little, and all reblogs and reposts are immensely powerful.

We are also putting together an art drive to raise funds, and are looking for artists and other creatives who are interested in contributing. If you have experience organizing art drives, or want to contribute your work, please reach out to us.

Thank you

The legitimacy of Moataz’s case has been verified by this blog, as well as other tumblr users

[roguelov]

OKAY BUT IMAGINE;

Becoming Morpheus's safe space or his emotional support human. Like one day you're walking through the Dreaming and you find Morpheus, who is completely overwhelmed with his feelings and is hiding from everyone. So you, who has been completely nervous and a little intimidated by him bc he's literally an Endless, go up to him and hug him without hesitation. You comfort him without asking any questions or trying to get him to talk about it. You just let him feel with no judgement.

Que to like maybe a couple weeks or months later where Morpheus just constantly seeks out your touch for comfort. Like will literally cross a whole room just to touch you no matter whoever is there or wherever you two are. He just automatically relaxs at the touch and he also like to see the light blush that appears on your face because despite how normal the touching is by now, he still makes you nervous in a butterflies in the stomach type of way.

OH MY GOD MY HEART IS MELTING AT THIS I DIDNT KNOW I NEEDED THIS UNTIL YOU SAID IT

You were in the library assisting Lucienne with reorganizing all the new books. The two of you were talking about anything and everything. It was calm, and enjoyable.

Until such a peace was interrupted.

Hasty footsteps cut through your melodic conversation. You both turned your head to find Morpheus marching through the library. His eyes determined and somewhat harsh as each of his steps were filled with a near righteous purpose. He seemed to be on some personal - and dare you say important - mission. As if, he was trying to locate something, or someone.

Morpheus’s eyes flickered over to you. Instantly, he beelined it directly towards you. Once within your grasp, he hugged you from behind.

Someone. He was trying to find someone, and that being you.

You tensed up, feeling your heart skip. His arms tightened around your waist as he pressed his forehead into your shoulder. He let out a deep long heavy exhale as some internal weight lifted off of him.

Lucienne bit back a smile. You glanced at her with wide eyes, feeling a heat rise to your cheeks. She knew of your small crush on the Endless, a secret she swore to keep. “I will finish later, there are other things I must do,��� she said with a slight playfulness in her voice.

You wanted to call out to her, to tell her not to go, but all those words died on your lips. Once she disappeared from sight, you let out a small sigh. She will give you grief later.

“Apologies,” Morpheus murmured, still clinging to you. You tensed at the soft hypnotic timbre of his voice. “It has been a … difficult morning.”

With each passing second, the stress continued to melt off of him. How could one hug, one touch from you, calm him so immensely?

“It’s ok,” you tried to keep your voice steady. “Just took me a bit off guard.”

“Should I -“ he slowly removed his arms.

“No,” you blurted out. “It’s fine, really. You just looked so … so … angry earlier, I didn’t know what you were going to do.”

Morpheus sighed, returning his arms around you grateful for it. “Again, I am sorry if I alarmed you.”

“Please you don’t have to apologize. If I can bring you any kind of comfort then I’m happy to help.”

His arms gave you a small squeeze, almost as if in a silent thank you. “You truly are a wonder to behold,” he whispered.

Your heart fluttered at his touching words. “How so,” you asked with a giddy smile as you placed your hands over top of his.

“You can always calm my chaotic emotions.”

You turned your head slightly to peer at him from the corner of your eye. All you saw was his messy ruffled hair. You leaned your head towards his, and lovingly rest it against his. “Always happy to help,” you whispered softly into his hair.

Morpheus was thankful to have hid his face, for he knew if you looked at him you could see his unspoken love for you. A mortal who went from stranger to confidante. His dear mortal whose words and touch can assuage any turmoil within him. His infatuation that held his heart in a way he could not comprehend. His love who he hoped would stay by his side when he gathered the courage to ask.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

Thank you for everything.

“Of course, I’m always here for you,” you hummed.

[uneditedidiot]

gold rush - jamie tartt x reader

jamie tartt x gn!reader

summary: reader is the head physical therapist for AFC Richmond and ever since Jamie returned to the team and has proven himself a better man, you can’t help but harbor feelings for the pro footballer. Takes place during s3ep11. Based off these specific lyrics from the song ‘gold rush’ by Taylor Swift.

word count: 2.9k

Warnings: language - it’s jamie tartt, of course there’s language; declarations of undying love and a first kiss. :)

A/N: I used to write imagines back in like 2012 about One Direction so at least this is somewhat of a step up for me. But my first tumblr imagine so hopefully it’s not complete trash lol.

Part Two: this love is ours

But I don’t like a gold rush, gold rush

I don’t like anticipating my face in a red flush

I don’t like that anyone would die to feel your touch

Everybody wants you

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

You were kidding yourself. 

Jamie Tartt, the star of the team, the integral cog in Richmond’s new Total Football machine, the absolute adorable human – that’s who you were in love with? It was almost laughable. If you had told yourself two years ago that Jamie Tartt would be the object of your affection, you wouldn’t have believed a word of it. He had changed. He had changed immensely.

It was…embarrassing in a way. You weren’t embarrassed of him, but more of how you reacted when he was around. And fortunately (or quite unfortunately), he was around quite a bit. As the head physical therapist for the team, you saw most of the players quite often for some reason or another.

Of course, you had no problem interacting with others for their physical care. Sam Obisanya had somehow garnered an elbow injury from playing football as a kid and it had decided to continue to bother him throughout his adulthood. He’d usually stop everyday just to chat, if not work through some stretches for his arm. Jan Maas had a tendency to go down too hard on his left knee when running, so you saw him at least twice a week to lead him through some exercises. Dani Rojas, the sweet sweet man he was, would stop by your office every single morning just to say hello and to make sure his arch support inserts in his boots were fitting right. Colin and Isaac both seemed to suffer from the same achilles tendon strains but on opposite legs. You had no problem assessing their physical needs. You went on with your day like nothing happened.

But Jamie…he was a different story. Just making eye contact when he walked into your office made your cheeks go warm. And having to move his ankle around when you were assessing range of movement? Your entire face and neck would go pink. And that smile…that smile had you giggling and kicking your feet for the rest of the afternoon. 

The sass was another issue entirely. Boy, did that man have a MOUTH on him.

When you’d first started at Richmond with Ted and Beard, who’d brought you with them from the States, Jamie was an asswipe. Sometimes he’d barely acknowledge your presence when coming to get treatment. Other times he’d just sit in silence, his eyes following your every movement. At least twice he’d come in for medical help and he’d tried flirting with you. Back then, you’d had no interest in him at all.

It was when he returned that it was clear something in him had changed. You’d observed his new restraint he showed at training and on the field during matches. He was considerate of his teammates, passing them the ball more frequently and encouraging them on and off the field. Keeley had even said she hadn’t seen him with a new girl on his arm for a long while.

But ever since his return, he’d become more and more friendly with you. You’d grown to trust him completely. He was a true friend. Not only that, but the banter you two had was unmatched.

“Do you like the new tat?” he’d asked one day as you wrapped his ankle.

“What is it supposed to be?” you’d chuckled.

He looked almost offended. “It’s a rocketship.”

You’d stood, wrap in hand, attempting to hold back a laugh. 

He sighed. “Alright, go ahead. Tell me what you really think.”

“Jamie…it…it looks like…like a dick.”

“It does not look like a dick!”

“Yes it really does.”

“You’ve got vision problems.”

“No I don’t. You’ve got some issues if you think that’s a rocketship.”

“Well so do you if you think it looks like a fuckin’ dick!”

You finally let out the laughter you’d been holding in. You had scurried to the door, thrown it open, and yelled out. “Jamie Tartt had his own dick tattooed to his forearm!”

He’d immediately jumped off the medical table and wrapped his arms around you, attempting to pull you away from the open door. You’d held on to the frame, still laughing and yelling as he did so.

“Jamie has a dick tattoo! Jamie has a dick tattoo!”

He was laughing the whole time, screaming, “no I haven’t!” over you, trying to drown out your yells.

You’d found yourself falling. His eyes would gleam and twinkle in this way that was almost comforting. You’d have done anything to see the light in his eyes again after he’d left your office. It was almost intoxicating, but in a way that felt like home. And while your real home in the States was far away, the closer you’d grown to Jamie, the less you missed it.

It was terrifying. You knew what it would mean if you said something to him; or even admitted it to yourself, frankly. 

Jamie was a very well-known figure in the UK. He was a top footballer on a premier team that was making a huge comeback that season. He’d been on a popular reality dating television show (which, sure, he made an ass of himself on but it’s in the past) which had spread his name and face across screens that may not have tuned into the matches before. It obviously didn’t help that he was, in your opinion, one of the handsomest men you’d ever seen. 

And others clearly agreed with you. The amount of thirst tweets you’d seen online about him was quite overwhelming. So many people wanted to be the one for Jamie. To hold him, love him, do things to him that you’d never heard of before reading that tweet. They found his tendency to be a prick on the field very hot. And he kept it up, that’s for sure.

Not only that, he was splashed all over the tabloid headlines when Lust Conquers All was airing. Since then, he was a frequent face on front pages of any and all gossip websites. If you were official with him, the amount of hate you’d get, grainy and unflattering pictures online, and generally mean tweets from people who found Jamie hot would be like a tsunami and you weren’t sure how you’d feel about that. Granted, he’d actually have to agree to go out with you first and that seemed so impossible…

Despite his public persona, you knew his heart. And what a wonderful heart it was. He was kind, thoughtful, and empathetic. He was considerate and made sure to take care of others before himself. He was a firework in a dim sky.

And you hated him. You hated him for making you want to be with him. Everything he did sent a shock of love and loathing down every single vertebrae in your spine. It almost hurt.

It wasn’t until the team’s fated match against Manchester City in Manchester did you see a problem. And that problem was himself. Clearly he was not himself. The thought of his father showing up at the match was weighing heavily on his mind. His self-esteem was at an all-time low and the thought of facing his old team and their incredibly intense fanbase didn’t help, either.

You’d sat next to Roy with Keely on his other side during the showing of You’ve Got Mail. You could see just from Jamie’s body language that he wasn’t himself. 

You’d sighed as Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan confessed their undying love to each other on the big projection screen. Everyone around you had shed at least one tear, including Roy, but something in you felt numb to it. You had been too busy focusing on the rigid back-of-the-head of Jamie in the front row.

You’d watched in dismay as Jamie snuck out of the room, his hood pulled up over his head. You, Roy, and Keely had followed him all the way to mom’s house. You’d sat and had a delicious cookie made by Simon, his stepfather, and then toured his old childhood bedroom.

You sat on the small twin-sized bed, taking in everything around you. Jamie was the same now as he was as a kid – living and breathing football. The posters on the wall were mainly of famous footballers, including Roy, who had cursed at the sight of his old Chelsea portrait. Even Keeley had gasped when she saw the picture of herself topless with two footballs in front of her chest next to it.

Roy and Keeley flopped down next to you on the bed. They chatted for a moment as you stared off into space.

Everything you had been harboring for Jamie – every single emotion – seemed to hit you all at once. The situation at hand forced it all to the surface.

You loved Jamie Tartt.

It brought tears to your eyes. You sniffled, quickly wiping a hand to your cheek.

“What’s wrong, babes?” Keeley asked worriedly, putting a hand on your shoulder.

You shook your head. Like she’d believe that for a second.

“Come on, out with it,” Roy demanded. “You’ve been almost as fucking miserable as Jamie this past week.”

You inhaled sharply, winding your fingers together awkwardly. Your voice was soft, trembling. “I’m in love with Jamie.”

Keeley smiled at you, then shared a knowing look with Roy.

“We know,” she replied gently.

Your eyes widened, meeting her gaze. “You do?”

“Halle-fucking-lujah,” sighed Roy. “Finally.”

“What do you mean, ‘finally?’” you retorted.

“It’s not like it’s been a fucking secret,” Roy grunted. “It’s clear you love the little prick.”

“He doesn’t…he doesn’t love me back, does he?” It was almost like you had dared yourself to even ask. What if he didn’t? What kind of hurt would that be?

You had expected Keeley to hug you sympathetically or even sigh, but instead…she giggled. “Not to break my promise or anything.” She shrugged. “Yeah. Yeah, he loves you, too.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Okay, don’t be mean. You don’t need to make things up just to keep me from feeling rejected, Keeley.”

“She wouldn’t tell you that if it wasn’t fucking true,” said Roy. “And I know we came here for Jamie to speak with his mum, but you’d hate yourself if you didn’t fucking say something to him.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Now?”

“Now.”

Keeley agreed. “Yep, I think it’s gotta be tonight, babes. It’s perfect timing. His mum will help him feel better and you both admitting you’re in love?” She squealed and jumped up. “It’s gotta be now!”

“But he’s my best friend,” you replied quietly. “I don’t want it to ruin things.”

“It won’t ruin anything,” Roy shook his head. “If it’s meant to be…it’s fucking meant to be. Not that it’s any of my business.”

“He’s had a crush since he got back to Richmond,” Keeley added. “I know it will work out. Trust us. He’s become a new person and he’s the exact right person for you. You’re perfect for each other. I’m going to be that friend and pressure you to do this.”

You stood, if not somewhat shakily, and nodded. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“You got this!” Keeley called after you as you exited Jamie’s childhood bedroom. 

You made your way down the small hallway and the narrow staircase, the air lingering with the scent of fresh baked goods as you descended. You could hear hushed voices coming from the living room. You tried to take soft steps as you approached the door.

“I don’t know, Mum. The best thing to ever happen to me?”

“It sounds like you’re in love.”

“But I’m scared.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you listened.

“Love isn’t supposed to be a walk in the park, Jamie. It can be scary. To put yourself out there on the line. To be vulnerable. To risk getting your heart ripped out and thrown in the rubbish.”

“I’m risking my best friend.”

“But will you regret it if you don’t?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I would die unhappy if I couldn’t tell them how I feel.”

Your feet moved before your brain could catch up. And then you saw him from right inside the doorway. His eyes. The gleaming. The twinkling. The feeling of comfortability. Of home.

He stood without taking his eyes off yours. There was a slight smile playing around his mouth. His hands went into their usual position, clasped and pulling on the bottom hem of his sweatshirt. 

Georgie also stood, but she grinned and quickly moved out of the room, saying to her son on the way out, “it’s worth it, love.”

All you could do in the moment was stand there, cheeks going pink under his gaze. 

“Erm…did you see me old bedroom?” he said sheepishly, breaking eye contact for a moment.

The start of this conversation somehow seemed to bring you back to the realm of the living. You chuckled. “Yes, I was a massive fan of the old Roy Kent poster you had up. And you know, all the small pictures of butts with thongs and such.”

It was his turn to go red. “Yeah, well, what can I say? Teenage boy hormones.”

“I don’t think it’s just teenage boy hormones, Jamie. That’s just you liking butts.”

You both shared another laugh before it went quiet again.

Now was your chance. Keeley and Roy had said Jamie was at least interested in you, so you needed to say something.

“Um…so, I…I was, uh, talking to Keeley and Roy upstairs,” you began, taking a couple steps toward him.

“Is that what you were doing? Talking? I’d have thought you might be having a threesome.”

You laughed again as he smirked proudly at his comment. But his smile faltered as you seemed to go back to a state of self-conscious anxiety. Jamie’s heartbeat sped up. Usually you would’ve come back with another witty comment.

“What were ya talkin’ about?” he wondered seriously.

“I was just telling them about this…guy I’m interested in.”

The warmth in Jamie’s eyes slowly seemed to be dying like embers of a fire slowly burning down.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. And I was telling them a little about him.”

Jamie nodded, eyes cast down at the floor. He feigned interest. “And what’s he like, then?”

You remembered what Georgie had just told Jamie moments before. Love is scary, but it’s worth the risk.

You took another step closer to him, feeling more confident now. “He’s really sweet. He’s considerate and thoughtful and is willing to learn and grow.” 

Jamie nodded again, still half-heartedly listening.

“And he’s funny and makes the best jokes. He can laugh at himself and how dumb he used to be. Although I’d laugh at myself too if I were that much of a prick once. Even turned a whole plan around at Amsterdam once, the idiot.”

His eyes were now back on yours, mouth slightly open in disbelief. The grin seemed to spread over his lips as you continued talking.

“And he’s generous and willing to take care of others despite his own needs. He puts on quite the show at his job though. Oh my god, he can be a bit of a show off, but he’s actively working on it. He always seems to get this like weird ankle injury every once in a while, too. And don’t get me started on his dumb ass tattoos. There’s this one that he says is a rocketship but I SWEAR it’s a penis and –”

“I love you.” 

Your words are put on halt by the admittance that Jamie has just put out into the world forever.

He repeated himself with confidence. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Your declaration comes not a second after he’s spoken. And everything seems to spill out at once. “For months now. I’ve tried to hold it in, but I can’t any longer. You make me nervous, Jamie Tartt. You make me blush just by walking into the fucking room. I couldn’t stand touching you because it made my stupid fingers turn red. Your smile alone could light a thousand candles at once. Your laugh could be a grammy-award winning song. Everybody wants you, but you…you are my everything.”

All he says is your name. And then he closes the gap between you two.

His hands go to your waist, his lips find yours. Your arms wind around his neck, hands finding the base of his hairline, weaving your fingers through the strands. There is no space left between your bodies.

Your mouths move in sync, slowly and softly, with a passion you’d never experienced before.

His hand moves from your waist to cup your cheek, turning his head slightly to deepen the kiss. His other hand grasps the fabric of your t-shirt, clinging to you incessantly.

When you pull away for a second, he whispers your name in a way that sends starlight cascading through your very bones. 

“Jamie,” you whisper, “you’re my best friend and I love you and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

He smiles. “I think your timing is perfect. Just like you.”

You move to press your lips to his again when Simon calls out from the kitchen.

“Anybody want pie?”

Georgie makes a reappearance in the doorway. She shrieks in delight. “See, love? I told you! What did I tell you?”

She wrestles you away from Jamie and gives you the biggest and tightest hug of your life.

“Mum, you’re gonna squish ‘em!” Jamie protests good-naturedly, pulling back on your shoulder. He slings an arm around your waist, keeping you close.

You knew Jamie would be okay at tomorrow’s match even if his dad did show up. 

You loved each other. And that was all he needed.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Jay Kuo at The Status Kuo:

There’s a strange phenomenon occurring with the terminally online right. Ever since Vice President Kamala Harris announced that Gov. Tim Walz would be her running mate, many of the right have acted with fury. They’ve attempted to “Swift Boat” his 24-year service record in the Army National Guard. They’ve called him a racist for talking about “white guy tacos.” And they’ve dredged up a nearly 30-year old DUI—for which he took accountability and after which he stopped drinking altogether—to prove he’s somehow not so perfect a role model.

What they haven’t been able to do is make any of this stick. And yet, Walz continues to draw fire, which could otherwise have been directed at Harris. In other words, Walz is turning out to be a shrewd pick. At net 11 points positive favorability in polls, Walz is immensely more popular than his counterpart on the GOP ticket, JD Vance, who is underwater by nine. And as they continue to rail against him, the right keeps making his fundamental point about them: They are just really weird. In today’s piece, I explore some theories about why Walz brings out the worst impulses of the right just by being who he is. Then I’ll lay down some political tarot cards and prognosticate about where I think this leads.

Politico Uno Reverse

By most identity measures, Walz should be one of the MAGA right. He’s a midwestern white dude in his late 50s. He loves to hunt and is a sharpshooter. He served for decades in the military and achieved the highest enlisted rank of Command Sergeant Major. He was a football coach who helped lead his team to the state championship. And yet, despite all these identity markings, Walz in an unabashed progressive. He is for reproductive rights and an ally and protector of gay teens. And there isn’t a bigoted bone in his body. It’s as if when Harris picked him, she played, as writer Anna Gifty Opoku-Agyeman succinctly described it, a “political uno reverse.” The Walz card threw it right back at them, as if to say, “I’m a guy just like you, but without any of the weird baggage.” The MAGA GOP’s base is supposed to include white guys like Walz. But here is living evidence that they don’t have all of them or the best of them. That’s why they’re so eager to discredit him, because if they don’t, as psychologist Julie Hotard notes, then Walz will stand instead as a model of what is possible. On many levels, an appealing, white, male Democrat is a far bigger threat to their sense of identity than even a biracial woman candidate for president.

[...]

Attacking Mr. Nice Guy

For the past two decades, the GOP has shifted markedly toward being a party of cruelty, of “owning” the libs and drinking their tears, and of being as unpleasant and in-your-face as they can be. That kind of behavior has been rewarded with appearances on Fox and other right wing media, fundraising dollars from the MAGA base, and a spot at the side or in the tweets of the ex-president himself. As author Patrick S. Tomlinson observed, Walz represents what shouldn’t be an extraordinary notion: that you can be a nice guy, supportive of women, embracing of gay people, and still be all the coded masculine ideals of soldier, football coach, hunter and father that the MAGA right believed it had a lock on. Plus, you can be all those things without ever asking weird questions about menstrual cycles, chromosomes and genitalia. The right even tried to make a big deal about Walz’s efforts as governor to ensure free tampons were available to girls in school. Rumors circulated that schools had been required to also put tampons in boys’ bathrooms, but those claims turned out to be untrue, while demonstrating how off kilter the right becomes over sexuality and gender. The “Tampon Tim” moniker didn’t stick. On the contrary, there are probably many moms and dads grateful for a governor like Walz who is thinking about their daughters’ needs.

Jay Kuo explains the real reason why the right is being driven crazy by Tim Walz: The fact that he has a profile that would typify a MAGA voter (football coach, military service, loves to hunt) yet is a progressive white dude (solid LGBTQ+ rights ally before it became fashionable among Democrats).

[angelfic]

first of all congrats on 2k !! my request would be dick grayson in a forbidden romance with "you're a horrible liar" TYSM I LOVE YOUR WRITING

thank u sm ur so sweet!! i’m so excited to be writing for dick grayson u have no ideawhsjwkdiekf here u go anon! 💌

dick grayson x reader + forbidden romance + “you’re a horrible liar”

➺ part of my 2k milestone writing game

“Hey, doc,” you hear Dick call from the doorway where he leans against the wall and watches you. Clad in his Nightwing suit, he smiles at you, very clearly tired from wherever he’s come from. You almost turn away, but you quickly realise that he’s leaning on the wall for support and the hand not holding his mask, is clutching his side. “You got time for another patient?”

“You’re hurt,” you mumble pointlessly, rushing over to help the vigilante off the wall and towards a chair. Trying to ignore the way your stomach twists at his wincing, you help him into a sitting position. “Take off your shirt.”

“Woah, you’ve never said that where other people can hear you before,” he chuckles, the movement making his laugh turn to wheezing. You hide your worry with a glare at his words and check the door to see if anyone overheard. Just to be safe, you go and shut it.

You’re pretty sure everyone is in their rooms or out, but working in a house full of vigilantes means you can never be too sure with security. The less you work at the hospital and the more you’ve started staying at Wayne Manor, the chances of your relationship with Dick have increased immensely.

You’re almost certain that Tim knows about you two. Either that, or he knows some other secret based on the weird, knowing smiles he keeps sending your way. You dread to think.

“How’d this happen?” you ask quietly, already getting to work on the stitches.

Dick looks at you, slightly conflicted with something before he speaks. “I, uh… there was this-” he cuts himself off, sighing and then taking a deep breath. “I tripped over a stray kitten trying not to step on its tail and one of the guys got me before I had the chance to recover.”

You really do try not to laugh, but the second you accidentally catch Dick’s eye when you go to reach for a bandage, you can’t help cracking a smile.

“And I assume the cat came out of there completely fine,” you tease, smoothing the bandage over the stitches.

“I swear I saw the smug bastard shake its head at me,” he says, completely serious until you dip your head and start laughing again, to which he responds with his own smile.

You turn your head to get the disinfectant to begin on the smaller scratches and cuts and when you turn back to Dick, he catches your lips with his own in a gentle kiss, hand coming up to cup your face. You melt into him for a minute, letting his warmth envelope you before reluctantly pulling away.

“Dick…” you sigh, avoiding his eyes to fiddle with the lid of the disinfectant bottle. All you want to do is continue kissing him, but the sneaking around has had you thinking recently. You’re here for your job and you know you’re in a position of trust and responsibility to Bruce and the others, including Dick. “I keep telling you we need to end this. And I mean it.”

Dick stays silent and after a couple beats, you look up, thinking that he’s upset with you. You find him smirking. “You’re a horrible liar, you know.”

“I’m serious, Grayson,” you say, trying to sound as firm as possible when he looks at you in the way that gets you all mushy inside. “I can’t do that to Bruce. He’s my employer, yeah. But more than anything he trusts me and I can’t mess this up.”

“Hm.” Dick doesn’t change his expression, continuing to look at you, eyes moving from your eyes to your lips and back and you wonder if he’s even listening to you. Tutting, you snap your fingers in his face, causing him to smirk even more. “Yeah… Bruce knows.”

You freeze, staring at Dick in utter shock. “He knows?”

“Since yesterday,” he nods, taking the disinfectant out of your hands to place it on the table. Holding your hands, he guides you forward so you’re standing snug between his legs, still unable to say much. “He doesn’t care, by the way. Just like I said he wouldn’t.”

“Really?” you ask in a whisper, not daring to sigh in relief just yet.

Dick just rolls his eyes and takes your face in his hands. “Yes. He still trusts you and still wants you working here, just like I said.”

You relax your shoulders, nodding. Then you punch him in the arm, making him groan. “Why didn’t you tell me straight away, you ass!”

“I was injured!” he exclaims, but his stupid grin is unwavering. “I still am, actually. That was a damn good punch, what the hell?”

“Jason showed me the other day,” you grumble, still frowning at Dick.

He shakes his head at you, completely unaffected by your glare as he swoops in for another quick kiss, knowing it’ll appease you, even momentarily. You don’t hesitate to respond, hands beginning to roam up his strong chest and into his hair. He pulls away with a contented smile. “I half-expected you to punch me again for kissing you.”

“Yeah, well. There’s more where that came from.”

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Supporting them - Amanda, John, Mark and Lawrence

warning : angst, hurt/comfort, cuddling, kissing, mentioning of self-harm

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Amanda : The sweet but addicted Amanda is punished by life and resurrected by Jigsaw to start a new life. But this is easier said than done since she tasted the metal and the blood, something has broken inside her and has come together in the form of emotionality and emotional outbursts, all under the cover of fear that she will not be able to live up to John or be left alone by him. Which is why, especially after Mexico and the first game, she seemed all the more nervous, but her partner was there to help her. Whether it was just words of praise or reassurance when the black-haired girl was too nervous. A hand on her shoulder or on her, ,,Just breathe it will be fine" she heard the voice of her lover when she felt her emotions boiling over. A hug behind closed doors and the encouraging gestures. A small snack or just a look was enough to tell her that everything would be alright. They are small things but they help her immensely.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John : Jigsaw himself, as strong and effective as his actions are, is vulnerable when reduced to a human being. An elderly man who has terminal cancer and is dying of it. gets robbed of life for changing other people. And yet. But he had his favorite. His partner who helped him with everything Amanda couldn't help with. Sitting together on the couch in his house in the evenings, one hand resting on his in his lap. Showering him with stories of better times and telling him how good he was. That everything was going to be fine, making him warm tea and getting his medication ready. Maybe even try to force him to sleep and continue the drawings. Do everything so that he didn't overexert himself, he had suffered enough. ,,Don't worry John, we'll manage...your work will go on until the end" he heard the words and a small smile came to his lips as he looked at the person with love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mark : The policeman, scarred by the life of the bear trap and the death of his sister, had lost everything for a time in his life. Alcohol was his best and only friend until he met not only John but also his lover. The thoughts of the darkness that surrounded him were not only tinged with brutality and a slight arrogance, but also with devotion. He loved the little gestures you did for him. A coffee in the evening, a little note, a hug when he came home and a cuddle when his mornings were hard. ,,My strong policeman... you are everything Mark, understand? I will always help you," said his favorite and hugged the older one. The older one replied that he was glad to have someone still worth loving but for everything that had happened he was grateful to have his partner. Someone he could kiss, someone who was there for him, someone he could trust after everything that had happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lawrence: The divorce from his wife, the loss of his daughter, the death of his friend Adams and the loss of his mentor and his failure with Jill. It was a time when he needed help, help to deal with his body and the loss of his leg. But it was also a time when he met his angel, his partner who not only helped him cope with his prosthesis but also with the process of his daughter. The nights were usually longer and he was afraid that the plans would not turn out right. But when he felt the reassuring hand of his darling on his shoulder, smelled coffee and felt a warm blanket around him. ,,Don't get cold, sweetie... go to sleep, I'll stay with you okay," he heard the voice and smiled slightly. They were small cares and yet they were gestures that showed him that nothing was in vain. He still had hope and love by his side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@callmeklarise

[kenobster]

The thing about Anakin (in prequel trilogy movies) is that he actually is a really good person by default. He is a war hero for a reason; he cares so deeply and unconditionally. Sure, he's a little careless sometimes and a little impulsive. He makes mistakes and bad calls and sometimes he needs to get his hormones under fucking control. But overall, he's very much trying to do a good job. He listens to feedback, he asks for advice, and he apologizes and tries to improve when he realizes he's wrong. 

Really, he only ever crosses unforgivable lines when two very specific criteria are met: (1) when the most sensitive points of his trauma are being put under an immense amount of pressure; (2) when his support system, for whatever reason, is absent. 

And even when those two criteria are met, he still struggles not to cross those lines as hard as he can for as long he can--until he eventually just snaps under the pressure.

Example #1, the Sand People massacre. Long before going to Tatooine, Anakin’s trauma points were already under an extreme amount of pressure. He was having nightmares about his mom--reminding him of his childhood as a slave and of the slavery in which he’d left her behind. When Anakin does go to Tatooine, his support system consists solely of a girl whom he does like and does trust but whom he doesn’t know very well. Old wounds continue to reopen as he takes his first steps into Mos Epsa and speaks with Watto, a being who owned and abused him. Anakin has no reason whatsoever to think Watto isn’t the orchestrator of his mother’s torment. But does he kill, dismember, or otherwise attack Watto? No. He remains polite. So polite, in fact, that it’s unsettling.

When he hears about his mother's capture and torture from the Lars family, Anakin is, suffice to say, upset. To rescue her, he goes alone (no support system). Even with his mother actively being brutalized (trauma), Anakin does not arrive with the intention of violence. He does not massacre the entire village in an attempt to rescue her. His plan is clearly to sneak in unnoticed, grab her, and sneak out. Even after seeing her strung up, at no point does his plan seem to change… Until she dies. In that moment, his mom, the epitome of his failure to free all the slaves, has just taken her last breath. He is completely alone. His mom has practically been slaughtered. His mom. Thus, his trauma hits a breaking point, and his usual support system is out of sight. 

He snaps. 

It is his choice, yes, but it is the result of a decade of abuse and generational trauma. It is also very much a mistake/accident… In other words, it is not an example of his true values and beliefs; it is an example of their temporary absence.*

*Evidence supporting this is in the scene with the line “to be angry is to be human,” but that’s a subject that needs its own whole ass post. I’ll link it later if I ever write it.

Example #2, the Jedi massacre. There are so many posts on the subject already that I'm not going to spend time detailing every single instance in which Palpatine isolates Anakin or manipulates Anakin into isolating himself. But a brief overview: sowing distrust in the Jedi Council, creating a narrative of deceit around the Jedi Order, orchestrating events to get Obi-Wan dead/offworld, and associating the dark side of the Force with Padme’s presence (via suggestions that only a Sith Lord can save her). With that, Anakin's entire support system is crippled. Unlike in AOTC, he is surrounded by loved ones, yes, but they can’t help him. By Palpatine's design, Anakin eventually bars each of them from entry.

Meanwhile, Palpatine is putting his trauma under extreme pressure and manipulating the shit out of him. Starting on the Invisible Hand itself, when Palpatine encourages Anakin to kill Dooku.* The movie explicitly connects this scene to the sand people massacre, which immediately establishes an awakening of old trauma. Wounds reopen, and Palpatine presses on them and he presses on them and he presses on them. Padme’s looming death becomes the symbol of his past trauma (of what he failed to protect and what he did as a result). And through Palpatine’s misinformation campaign, the Jedi become the perpetrators of this trauma, rather than the support system.

*For reasons beyond the scope of this post, I do not consider Count Dooku's murder to be an example of Anakin crossing an unforgivable line. I consider it to be an example of Anakin making a bad call. Even so, one could easily argue that his support system was absent and that his pressure points were being targeted in this scene, too. But I find that argument uninteresting because it doesn't apply imo.

Still, Anakin resists. Still, he tries again and again to retain his ideals. He seeks advice from Yoda. He listens to Obi-Wan's feedback and apologizes. He opens up to Padme. He initially rejects Sith Lord Palpatine. He tries to do the right thing by telling Mace Windu and letting the Council handle things. Because that's who he is--that's his true nature. Anakin is alone in the Council chambers (no support system) when Palpatine taunts him with Padme's inevitable death (trauma). And still, he resists. He races to Palpatine's office, but does he immediately kill, dismember, or otherwise attack Mace Windu? No. Even as Palpatine continues to press on his trauma (“I have the power to save the one you love!”), Anakin tries to reason with Mace. However much he is rationalizing the truth to his benefit, he is still trying to get out of this trap. He even admits the core of it in the end: “I need him!” Even then, even when Mace rightly goes for the killing blow, Anakin is still resisting! He attacks, he dismembers, but he doesn't kill. He makes an impulsive, ill-thought-out, almost reflexive decision (supported by the horror in the line “What have I done?!”). It’s as if Palpatine has shoved him right up against that unforgivable line, and Anakin is using his last inch of space to not teeter over it. 

Then Palpatine kills Mace Windu. In his mind, Anakin has nothing left after that. In his mind, he is responsible for getting Mace killed (trauma), and he doesn’t see how the Jedi can possibly forgive him (no support system). In his mind, his wife is dying (trauma), and he is alone in the presence of his abuser (no support system).

He snaps.

Unlike in AOTC, this does not happen by accident. These events were deliberately and continuously manufactured by a Sith Lord with an agenda. Palpatine directs Anakin’s explosion onto the Jedi Order, where Anakin compounds upon his trauma with more murder and more death. He becomes isolated to Palpatine's manipulations by killing (or enraging) his entire support system.

Afterward, Palpatine has all of the fuel he needs to make Anakin snap and snap and snap, over and over, for a very long time.

Who is to blame is such a boring, irrelevant question when we have such a fascinating character. The prequel trilogy gives us a complicated villain who is simultaneously the executor of such horrific violence and also the boy who wanted to free all the slaves. A villain who kills a part of himself every time he kills another. A villain who is so horrifically victimized even whilst he commits his terrible crimes. And because it's fiction (aka the victims of his actions are narrative elements, not people), I'm allowed to feel unashamedly devastated for him. I’m allowed to see the truth: that Darth Vader is only the suit he wears. The mask concealing the good person underneath. The Jedi Order was Anakin’s family, too, and you should feel sorry that he lost them. You should feel sorry for the way he is abused in ROTS. Darth Vader doesn’t represent who Anakin is or what he believes, and blame is irrelevant to this truth.

Because support systems matter. They matter to people who have gone through trauma. Yes, sometimes they are even the ONLY difference between the choice to do good and the choice to do bad. Sometimes, all that is necessary to prevent a heinous crime is to help them before they snap. I think people are uncomfortable with Anakin because that kind of helplessness is a really hard thing to admit. It's not fun to realize that you could have made similar choices if you had been in the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong person. Research has shown people greatly prefer to attribute their accomplishments to their own actions and choices in life. It makes sense. The realization that external factors may have played a role in everything we take pride in is scary--but this fear leads us to the bias that we could never become Darth Vader. Even if we were raised as a slave, even if our loved ones were taken from us, even if our sense of reality was being manipulated and distorted--somehow we would not be broken. We would remain Anakin Skywalker.

It's a comforting fantasy for people who have done nothing wrong.

As someone who is human, someone who has made mistakes and bad calls and who regrets the times I might have crossed lines, I find a lot more comfort in the message George Lucas provides. The prequel trilogy is a story about the harm someone (anyone) can do if they're not careful. Anakin becomes Darth Vader not because he’s innately evil but rather because he’s under extreme pressure and no one is able to help him. In contrast, the original trilogy offers compassion and an opportunity for self-forgiveness. Darth Vader chooses to become Anakin simply because one person looked at what he'd done and said, "Stop. This isn't you." In the face of how helpless and dangerous every one of us can be, I find Anakin’s story to be really meaningful, and I wish more of us appreciated it.

[mikareo]

⌗ ROMANTICISM ₊ ˖ ་. rin itoshi x fem reader (4k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ there are so many words he wishes he could take back, and he realizes now that he loves you. he loves your colorful laugh, beauty, and passion - all he needs now, is to tell you...and say those three little words. (part two of rationalism - must must read first!!!)

contains; colorblind!rin, painter!reader, rin’s mom is reader’s art mentor, rin hates art, strangers to friends to lovers, swearing, immense fluff, , kissing, extremely inaccurate depictions of colorblindness, happy ending!!! author's note; this was originally supposed to end with reader getting into a car accident and d-wording the day of her art gallery...but i changed my mind :D

He misses you. He can’t help it, but he does. 

The memories he has with you are a cassette tape on autoplay - constantly running through his mind on repeat, and always ending with the awful confrontation that you’d left each other with. Rin wishes he hadn’t raised his voice. He wishes that he would’ve been honest with you from the very beginning, but he hadn’t, and there’s no changing the past. All he has now are two empty hands that would much rather be interlaced with your paint-covered fingers. 

“How much longer do you think you’re going to be moping?” Sae’s call is distant from the turning gears within Rin’s brain. He’s sure that his brother has grown tired of his constant state of melancholy - having been forced to be his support system after you walked out the door - and Rin feels awful about it. If he could, he’d rip his heart from his chest and allow you to step on it. To stomp and tear through the organs just as you’d done to those poor bystanding cherry blossoms on the sidewalk. 

“As long as she’s still upset with me.” He groans as his forehead hits the marble of the island counter. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah, well we already knew that.” The dim-eyed boy beside him scoffs while taking yet another drink of his apple juice - which he has unfortunately had to drink for the past hour and a half since Rin had somehow consumed his small supply of alcohol within the past few weeks that the two of you hadn’t been speaking. “I was really rooting for you, man. I thought she was the one to break your cycle.”

“Cycle?”

What the hell does he mean by ‘cycle’?

“Oh, you know,” Sae continues without even taking a breath, “The cycle of life you’ve got going on with your inability to actually attract girls.”

Rin hates him.

“You’re an asshole.” He grumbles, taking his own swig of the pint of orange juice he found in the back of his fridge. Is it expired? Likely yes. Does Rin care, at all? Definitely not. Is he even more pissed off that he doesn’t understand the irony of why it’s called orange juice? He doesn’t want to answer that question. “An unhelpful asshole who should definitely stay over and cook dinner for me since he wants to make up for being said ‘unhelpful asshole’.”

Sae scoffs, shaking his head whilst the thin, soft strands of his hair flit back and forth. His right eyebrow raises in a mocking expression, “You need to get yourself back out there, man. You’ll be old and grey if you keep waiting for the perfect girl to come knocking on your door, so just talk to her. Just fucking talk to her and put me out of my misery.”

“Are you trying to make this about you, right now?” Rin stares at his best friend in utter disbelief, but he’s not truly upset. He knows that Sae holds good wishes for him in all manners of life - this being no exception - and takes his words to heart. He’s right. Of course, he’s going to lose you if he doesn’t even try to get you back. “The sun must be falling out of the sky because I’m actually considering following your advice.”

“That’s a pretty picture to imagine,” his older brother chuckles, causing Rin to roll his eyes. What’s the sensation that everyone has with mentioning imagery every five seconds? “Just talk to her, man.” Sae continues, “Please, I’m all out of advice.”

Rin takes his brother’s pleas to heart. It is quite ridiculous that he’s spending his time depressed and lonesome when he could be reconciling with you. Perhaps it’s his fragile masculinity acting out and refusing to take blame for the situation, although he’s fully aware it’s completely his fault that you’re upset with him. 

It’s difficult for the gears to begin turning in Rin’s head. They’re covered in brittle rust that’s been creeping deep into the crevices of his mind for his entire life - slithering down his spine towards his blackened heart that you had only just begun to breathe life into. He misses the feeling of spring that came when you called. The freshwater rain of your laughter and budding blossoms of your smile that washed away his loneliness and replaced the awful emotion with an overgrown garden of bliss. He still doesn’t understand how he managed to mow that garden down with one sentence. He might as well have taken a chainsaw and brutally hacked into every connection that he’d managed to make with you in your time of knowing each other. 

Now he’s going to be on his knees begging for forgiveness with his hands stained by the minced grass. Does grass stain green or yellow? Hopefully not brown, dear lord. He’ll be buried deep into apologies that should definitely be rehearsed, but he knows he’s not an artist with words and he won’t bother to waste your time with crumpled-up ‘I’m sorry’ notes and improvised tears. 

You deserve nothing but the best - so much more than he’s been giving you and he needs you to hear those words come straight from his mouth. 

When did you begin to mean so much to him? Rin doesn’t even know. 

It could’ve been when you showed up to his game unannounced, with first row seats and a booming cheer that he never knew he desired. ‘C’mon number ten! I know you can do better than that! Beat their asses, Rin!’ He nearly tripped at the sound of your voice, and falling on his face was the last thing he wanted to do in front of Isagi - but to be completely honest, he doesn’t remember much of his qualms with his rival from that day. Rin was solely focused on playing well for you. The world stopped and he was given all the time needed to impress you. You give him a reason to be better, a selfless reason to do good. 

Perhaps it was when you’d shown him around your homey apartment, with maple art easels and splattered canvases lining the walls, and watched with glee as he made his best attempt at a finger painting (which may or may not have ended up looking like two worms kissing). ‘It’s abstract’, you’d say every time he found something new that was wrong with the art piece, ‘All it needs is a home. See?’ You hung his shitty little sketchbook paper on your living room wall, right next to your TV for the whole world to see. The way you stood there staring in awe still rattles his brain. You’ve always been able to find beauty in even the smallest things. 

Or maybe his heart had begun to beat a little faster that Saturday night on the way out of the theater. The romance of the film the two of you just witnessed was still on Rin’s mind, provoking his alcohol-induced body to make a pathetic attempt at holding your hand - which resulted in him accidentally knocking you over into a street puddle that swallowed the heel of your shoe. ‘I needed to take a shower anyway, Rin, it’s fine!’ Your smile continued to be bright despite the low temperature and sprinkling rain, and he can recall wondering how you managed to stay so positive in such a dreary situation. As you discarded your soggy heels into a nearby trashcan and skipped barefoot on the pavement, you called, ‘Come on! Dance with me!’ The shared laughter between the two of you echoed through the seemingly empty streets that surrounded you - hands connected as you swung in circles around each other and fell over one too many times, until he carried your sleeping body home. He doesn’t think anyone’s ever been able to make him laugh as hard. 

The way the corners of your eyes crinkle amidst fits of giggles is his favorite image to replay. He doesn’t need to know the color to be able to see how beautiful they are - to appreciate the blinding sparkle that overwhelms your irises when he accidentally trips over the uneven sidewalk or knocks over your painting station - or even when he unintentionally makes a sexual innuendo that you just so happen to pick up on. ‘That’s a love hotel, Rin! Why would I have stayed there before?’ It was almost as if you were conducting a symphony of glorious laughter that night. The violins played the tune of your voice in a higher octave and the cellos added a punch everytime you’d bite your lip in an attempt to calm down. He hadn’t known what a love hotel was intended for before that night, but he’d also made the mistake to say, ‘I wouldn’t mind going to my first one with you, it could be a first for both of us.’ and you still haven’t let him live it down. Rin’s honest with himself for the most part. He’s awkward, insufferable, and a bore to be around - yet, for some odd and unknown reason, those are your favorite things about him. Why?

Why is it that he can’t function like a normal person when your eyes meet his?

Why do his words rearrange themselves and become complete gibberish when he attempts to woo you with his charm?

What is it that keeps him coming back to you, despite holding such deep hatred for the things that you love most?

“I need to text her.” Rin feels his chest vibrate as he finally makes a decision, the words pouring from his mouth in a short word vomit - forcing Sae to piece together the jumbled mess and attempt to comprehend whatever it was that his big brother was trying to say, to which he jumps up from his seat at the island and aggressively pats Rin on the back. 

“That’s what I’ve been saying, dumbass! Get those fingers movin’!” 

His phone falls into his hands in a millisecond, with Sae eagerly awaiting to hear his poetry. He’s grateful to have such a supportive friend. Rin knows that there aren’t many people who would be willing to put up with him for so long - having been moping around and complaining day-and-night of relationship problems that were solely caused by him - and he can’t imagine not having his support. Hopefully he’ll be able to introduce you, one day. You’ll both give him so much shit for his attitude. Oh well. It’ll all be worth it having two people he loves get along. 

…

Did he just…

What did—

There’s no way.

Did he really just use that word? That godforsaken word?

He’s trembling. Rin’s phone is shaking in his hands as he finally comes to the realization that he does, with his entire heart and being, love you. In an instant, his entire world scrambles together with rapid dashes and line art that he can’t even comprehend. There’s no rules to follow with these types of feelings - this insistent need to see you. Hold you. Kiss you.

Fuck, he wants to kiss you. He can’t think of anything else he’d rather be doing. 

Like tapping raindrops that never cease their fall, his fingertips move against the keypad in a rhythmic motion - singing a song of love that can’t be contained into a simple lullaby. His heart pours out into the message, apology after apology being pasted in paragraphs, and hopes with his whole soul that you’ll find it in yourself to at least see him in person. There’s no way you won’t. Rin knows you well enough now that he’s certain he’ll be seeing you again. All he needed to do was take the first step towards forgiveness, and he’s finally willing to be vulnerable and own up to his inability to be honest about his feelings, because he loves you. He loves you and he wants to tell you a hundred times, a thousand times, and a million times until you beg him to shut the hell up and kiss you. 

‘I’ll be at the studio tonight. I miss you, ______, and I’m sorry.’

He ends the message with a final apology, begging fate that you’ll read it in time to meet him while he still has courage - and with that, he’s on his way to the place he hates most, awaiting the person whom he loves most.

An hour has passed - well technically it’s been fifty-seven minutes, but who’s counting?

He’s counting.

The sun went into hiding ages ago and the moon now stalks him as he sits in his chair, lonely with two vacant eyes that wish they were gazing at yours. Rin can’t even tell if you’ve read the text or not - the grey speech bubbles look the same as they always have, and the delivered sign is posted at the bottom with no response. He wants to send a follow-up message, just a little ‘hey, you there?’ but he knows that’s a little bit much. If you want to see him, you’ll see him and he’ll confess his feelings once-and-for-all - though, he’s feeling much less confident than he was an hour ago. Ahem, sorry. Fifty-nine minutes ago. 

Rin has a plan of what he’s going to say to you, and hopefully it makes sense when the words begin to fall from his lips. He’s said it many times before, but he’ll say it again, he’s never been good with words or feelings or anything of the sort. He wants to get better, though - to become more emotionally aware for your sake, because he knows that’s a priority for you. You have an image of your dream guy that’s been in your wishes since primary school - tall, handsome, daring, dashing, yada, yada, yada - and he’s trying to be that guy. He needs to be that guy. He’ll be anything for you. 

Anything and everything…even the desperate guy who can’t get a text back. 

Y’know, for a moment - a brief and fleeting moment - the world seemed a little more beautiful in his self-realization of love. The stars glistened brighter and the street lights sparkled in their reflections. Before tonight, Rin hasn’t ever been able to appreciate the natural beauty of what surrounded him. He never understood your fascination with replicating real life into paintings and sketches, but he seems to have digested the concept - at least a little bit. The only thing that could undoubtedly make his world more dazzling would be the sight of you, and holy shit there you are. There you are opening the front door - and your gorgeous, perfect reflection in the glass is looking straight at him. 

He doesn’t need the ability to see color to know that you’re the most fascinating and jaw-dropping sight in the entire universe - and that the rainbow should be rearranged in the letters of your name in honor of your ability to captivate attention and inflict a multitude of emotions on him that he’s never felt before. 

“Rin?” Your melodious voice is the remedy that his ears have been yearning for. “Rin, is that you? Why’re you in the dark?” 

This means you haven’t read his text, right? Otherwise, why would you be confused as to why he’s here? Wait, why’re you even here?

You begin to explain yourself without him needing to ask, “I left my phone in here earlier like an idiot and I’ve been looking for it all day. Isn’t that so dumb?” You let out a little laugh, amused at your inability to keep track of your personal belongings. Why aren’t you acting like you’re upset with him? The last time you talked, you could barely look him in the eye - yet now, you’re so casual, almost as if nothing happened. “Here I am looking for my lost phone, but instead I find a lost Rin Itoshi.”

“What are you doing here? Sitting in the dark?”

The repeated question is met with a pregnant silence as Rin fails to piece together the rehearsed words he had come up with earlier, settling on a bear hug that nearly suffocates you. 

He’s so overwhelmed by the feeling of touching you again that he barely notices how stiff your posture is. You’re practically a piece of rock in the midst of being carved by its maker, frozen and unable to formulate an action in response - which, in this case, means that he’s your artist. Rin relaxes his hold, urging you to reciprocate his warmth by nestling his face in your neck. Your right arm finds its place wrapped around his waist and your left around his neck, allowing him to engulf you further into his hold. You smell so nice. He notices the lavender perfume that he bought you is still rubbed into your skin, and he’s glad that you’re finally using it. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

Rin’s fingers run through your hair in smooth waves, gently kneading out the small knots and helping you relax - and he can tell that your full attention is on him. For the first time in knowing you, there aren’t any distractions or excuses to avoid this conversation. It’s just you, him, and the bare truth. He just hopes he can execute this right. 

“There aren’t enough words to explain how sorry I am, genuinely. I shouldn’t have ever belittled you like that, ______.” He takes a deep breath, one of many, and closes his eyes. The scene of you stomping away from him has no end in his mind. It constantly plays at every hour of the day, re-run after re-run, to torment him and remind him how horribly he screwed up with you. Please, please forgive him. “You’re not just my mom’s student. You’re not just a friend that I get coffee with. You’re so much more than that and I’ve been such a fucking chicken and haven’t been able to be honest with you.”

“You couldn’t have possibly known about my condition and it was wrong of me to take my frustration out on you.” Rin can feel himself begin to cry, his tears raining down his cheeks in cascades of pent up anger and hatred for how he made you feel that day. You didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve to be treated like shit by him. “Your work is important to you and I know it should be appreciated. What’s important to you is important to me, okay?”

“You love your art, and I love you.”

He says it over and over again. Those three special words rapidly become six words, nine words, eighteen, forty-two, and onwards as you look at him with an empty expression. Please, please say something. For every second of no response, he confesses his love to you. He confesses as if it’s his source of air - the only way that he’ll be able to survive this encounter is if he bares his emotions with no regrets. If this were a movie, he’d be the desperate protagonist in the climax of the story who fucked up his love life and is begging for a second chance - hell, this is real life and that’s exactly what he’s doing. Just, please, have a happy ending.

You open your mouth, yet nothing comes out. No words. No statements. No confessions. You’re simply staring at him like he’s just told you the most absurd news in the existence of the universe…

…and then a tear falls. 

One tear slips from your eyes, followed by another, and another…until your face is drenched in salty rain with black mascara creasing your eyes. You look like a raccoon. Rin almost starts laughing. No. He is laughing; laughing because your false lashes have fallen into your hands as the glue refused to be waterproof - and now you’re standing before him in a puddled mess of makeup and disheveled hair. You’ve never looked more beautiful. 

Rin brushes his fingers across your cheek, attempting to wipe away your tears like an artist covering up a beautiful mistake. If he were a painter, he’d paint you a million times and more - hanging every portrait on every single wall of his apartment, until there was literally no space left for a scrap of paper. You’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever laid his eyes on, and the smile that suddenly bursts from your sobs confirms it. 

“What’s going on? I’m so confused, are you happy or are you sad?” He’s so concerned and his inability to read emotions correctly only makes him more helpless. “Talk to me, beautiful. C’mon.”

You lean into his touch and he instantly knows that everything is going to be okay. 

“I just never thought I’d hear you say that.” Your smile is directed at him now, and he feels a warmth that is so familiar yet unfamiliar and he can’t get enough of it. It’s similar to the feeling of being showered in sunlight or snuggling beneath a comforter in the winter - an overwhelming comfort that’s a gift from you to him. “I feel like I’ve been waiting forever. Fuck you for that.”

Now you’re both laughing, giggling, and beaming at each other. His heart feels so at peace. The civil war between his divided emotions, love and loneliness, has finally ceased. 

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Neither of you can stop the flow of confessions that slip from your tongues and in an instant your lips are on his - clashing and colliding in a furious kiss that rivals the strength of a hurricane. It’s almost as if he can physically feel your love pouring into him and warming his heart into a heated flame, stoked by the embers of your touch. God, he missed your touch. The feeling of it is addicting. It’s his personal heroin and he’ll never get enough of it. 

Your lips are just as soft as he imagined them to be, perhaps they're a rosy pink color with the slightest touch of strawberry lip balm that he keeps getting a fleeting hint of taste from. Never in his wildest dreams did he think you’d love him too. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. He silently repeats over and over - grateful that he’s been so blessed to know you…feel you…and love you in the awful world that he hated living on his own  - the world void of color that you’ve somehow brightened by simply breathing beside him. 

His hands are everywhere. Your hips. Your waist. Your breasts. Your neck. He can’t get enough of the feeling of you. With every passing second he’s falling deeper and deeper in love. You’re utterly perfect, he would kiss you for years if that was an option—

Aw shit, he knocked over an easel. 

“Goddammit,” he mumbles while briefly pulling away from you. Of course he had to interrupt the moment he’s been waiting months for with his clumsiness. He’s such a dumbass. If he could punch himself in the gut, he would - but that would be way too embarrassing in front of you - hold up, this painting is familiar!

“Well I'll be damned.” He chuckles and turns the canvas towards you, to which you burst out laughing. “I thought you’d have thrown this out.”

“No,” you gaze at the painting with love in your eyes. “I could never, that’s how we met.”

The painted streak he accidentally inflicted upon your artwork remains in the same position. It seems that you never even bothered covering it up and embraced the imperfection. While Rin cannot decipher the magnitude of colors on the canvas, he’s sure that the various strokes look gorgeous and masterful. You’ve always been so talented. He’s so lucky.

As he places the painting upon a now-standing easel, you rest your forehead against his. He loves you. He loves you so much. So much so that he can’t help but take a step closer, not just one but many, and embrace the overwhelming love and passion he holds for you. There are so many words he wants to say, confessions that can carry on for an infinite number of lines, but there’s no need for that now. You have forever - and he decides to start that forever with his favorite thing…

…a kiss. 

“I love you.” You whisper.

“I love you more.” He replies.

read the final part here. THANK UUUU

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

[skele-bunny]

Bpd people can't have relationships they're toxic stop ruining dewther

LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER + IM MARRIED FOR 3+ YEARS HERE'S SOME MORE BPD DEWTHER ✨

Aether has their nest ready, comfy snacks, and has started requesting three days off for when Dewdrop gets back from tour. The separation and stress is a giant trigger for Dew to split, especially if he's called away for work. It helps IMMENSELY and lets them have much needed time together

Sometimes Aether can see Dew start dissociating after staring at him and will just calmly go to one knee, offering his hand. "Do we need to sit together for a bit? Or do you want me to go for a walk?" Always works out in the end, and really improves their communication!!

Even though Dew will have really bad episodes in negative light, he'll start fiddling with his wedding ring and it helps calm him down.

Sometimes Dew needs reassurances Aether still likes him, that nothing's changed, and Aeth is always happy to provide! Physical affection, soft whispers of reassurance, maybe even just having a small date with the two of them over dinner.

Aether still makes sure to take care of his mental health as well, and again knows when to step away, or when he needs support as well. He usually confides in Mountain or will find himself in the gardens to meditate. Dew has gotten MUCH better at understanding when Aether needs space, and will occupy himself to stay busy until they're able to get back together and talk.

When they do talk it out, Dew will need physical touch so he'll sit on Aether's lap, and they'll hold each other tight while looking over their shoulders. It's easier to talk like that, and keeps them grounded still.

Have little codewords to tell one another if they're getting overwhelmed with what the other is saying, and one for when Dewdrop is triggered.

Despite this, they still have an amazing relationship and are continuing to be better at communicating both of their needs and talking out their issues. They love each other SO much and nothing with ever change.

Stop demonizing people and relationships with BPD, we're not toxic or unlovable. We're people too 🖕

[kesshavx]

Resilience

Hey everyone!

I wanted to jot down a quick note regarding Nanami and his portrayal in this story. While I've taken inspiration from the character you know and love, I understand that my interpretation may not be entirely accurate to the original series.I've endeavored to capture Nanami's essence and bring him to life in my own writing, but please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction and my own creative interpretation. I apologize if there are any deviations from his established traits or if certain aspects don't align perfectly with your expectations.That being said, I hope you can still enjoy the story and the interactions involving Nanami. I've aimed to create a compelling narrative that showcases his strengths, complexities, and the impact he has on the other characters.Thank you for your understanding and for giving this story a chance. I appreciate your support and hope you find plenty of enjoyment

Pairings➪Nanami kento x female reader

The mission had been grueling, a battle against a formidable curse. As a second-year special grade sorcerer, you shouldered the weight of immense responsibility. However, despite your power, the curse had managed to evade capture, leaving you injured and consumed by guilt.

Days turned into weeks, and the wound on your waist festered beneath the surface. You carried on, wearing a façade of strength, but inside, the turmoil was relentless. No one suspected the storm raging within you as you navigated through your daily routine, feeling the weight of your perceived failure.

The arrival of the Kyoto students brought a festive atmosphere to Jujutsu High. Amidst the excitement, a grand party was organized to celebrate the goodwill event. Laughter and joy permeated the air, but your heart remained heavy with self-doubt and remorse.

In the midst of the revelry, Mai, caught up in the festivities, accidentally struck your injured area. A surge of agony coursed through your body, and you winced, desperately trying to conceal your distress. Unable to bear the pain any longer, you excused yourself quietly, retreating to a quiet place away from prying eyes.

As you found solace in the solitude, your pain overwhelmed you. The weight of guilt and self-condemnation bore down upon your shoulders, and the walls you had built around your emotions crumbled. Collapsing to the ground, you curled up, tears streaming down your face as your body trembled with anguish.

Unbeknownst to you, Nanami Kento, ever perceptive, had noticed your departure from the festivities. His concern grew with each passing moment, and he followed your trail, determined to find you. And find you he did, your body wracked with sobs, crumpled on the floor.

"Nanami-sensei," you choked out, your voice filled with pain and self-blame, "I'm... I'm a special grade. I let that curse get away. I failed... I failed everyone."

Nanami's gaze hardened, disappointment etched into his features. He knelt beside you, his voice firm yet laced with concern. "You are a special grade, yes, but that doesn't make you invincible. Failure is a part of our journey, and it's how we respond to it that defines us."

His words carried a touch of sternness, emphasizing the gravity of your mistakes. Yet, as you glanced up at him through tear-blurred vision, you noticed a glimmer of compassion in his eyes. It was a silent promise that he wouldn't abandon you in your darkest moments.

"But remember," Nanami continued, his voice softening, "failure doesn't diminish your worth or your potential. It's an opportunity for growth, to learn from your mistakes and become better. You are not alone in this. We're here to support you, to help you rise above your setbacks."

With those words, Nanami gently cradled you in his arms, drawing you close to his chest. The pain in your body still lingered, but his presence offered solace and comfort. He held you tightly, his touch reassuring as he whispered words of encouragement, reminding you that you were not defined by your failures.

In that quiet moment, feeling the warmth of Nanami's embrace, you began to find solace amidst the turmoil. His scolding had ignited a spark of determination within you, but it was his kindness and understanding that mended the shattered pieces of your spirit.

Time seemed to stand still as Nanami held you, supporting you through your pain. He provided a safe haven where vulnerability was embraced, and you felt a glimmer of hope rekindling within your heart. With his unwavering support, you knew you could find the strength to face the challenges ahead.

As you lay cradled in Nanami's arms, the pain gradually ebbed away, replaced by a sense of comfort and acceptance. Your tears subsided, and a newfound resolve took root within you. You knew the road to redemption would not be easy, but with Nanami by your side, you felt ready to face it together.

[bbobpul]

being with you doesn't feel like drowning — lmk

PAIRING. bff!mark lee x bff!reader SUMMARY. reader tries to confess to mark in hopes that their feeling will disappear once they let it out of their chest. GENRE. angst, unrequited love, best friends to strangers, reunion W/C. 3.4k NOTE. i love boygenius so it's mandatory to listen to cool about it while reading FOR THE FEELS (0.0)!→ my other works

certain people from our youth leave an indelible mark on us, whether they are senior role models, acquaintances who brighten our days, or individuals who meant so much but eventually drifted apart. their presence, guidance, and impact shape our experiences and stay with us long after we part ways, reminding us of the significance of human connections and the lasting effects they have on our lives.

surely one of the saddest experiences but the best stories to tell.

mark lee is undoubtedly an incredibly lovable person. many people who know him would agree wholeheartedly. he embodies kindness and provides a comforting presence that draws people towards him. mark is like a ray of sunshine, approachable and warm.

in my personal experience, he has been a significant source of support during my college journey. his friendly demeanor attracts people, and many individuals wish to befriend him. some are too shy to approach him directly, so they often approach me as a way to connect with him, like a bridge to his vibrant social circle.

when i first entered high school, i had certain expectations of what mark lee might be like based on stereotypical characters from tv shows—cocky and popular. however, i quickly discovered that mark was different. despite any changes that high school brought, he remained the same kid i had grown up with.

i vividly remember the times when he would run to me for support when kids from our neighborhood were being mean to him. he trusted me enough to confide in me when his first crush rejected him, not knowing that i was also on the verge of tears myself. mark lee is someone who is so easy to love, and that's what makes him incredibly difficult to forget.

his genuine and vulnerable nature, his loyalty and trust in our friendship, have left a lasting impression on me. mark's authenticity and ability to connect on a deeper level are what set him apart. despite the ups and downs, he remains a constant presence in my life, a person i hold dear in my heart.

i consider myself incredibly fortunate to have been noticed by mark in a way that felt truly special, surpassing the attention he gave to others he met during high school. it was a privilege that should have brought me immense gratitude, yet i couldn't help but harbor a conflicting desire for something more. in my heart, i battled with feelings of self-doubt and yearning, torn between appreciating the unique connection we shared and longing for a deeper bond that seemed just out of reach.

sitting on the benches near the school gates with my friend donghyuck, i couldn't contain the overwhelming emotions within me any longer. "i really love him, hyuck. so much," i confessed, my voice filled with a mixture of vulnerability and excitement. it was a quiet moment between the two of us, as we had been dismissed early from school due to our lazy professor. as we waited for mark, who had some errands to run, i seized the opportunity to confide in donghyuck, trusting him with my deepest feelings and hoping for some guidance or understanding in return.

his response took me aback. "that sucks, man," he said, his words carrying a sense of sympathy. i stared at him in disbelief, hoping for some encouragement or guidance, but his straightforward suggestion caught me off guard. "just tell him," he continued, his voice laced with conviction. "it probably will disappear once you get your feelings off your chest."

"it won't. i know it won't work," i replied, my voice tinged with a sense of resignation. i recalled my previous attempts to convey my feelings to mark, even if it was in a lighthearted manner, and the lingering affection that persisted throughout the years. graduation was approaching, yet this feeling had taken root long before i even set foot in the halls of our school.

as the weight of my unrequited feelings continued to burden me, i added another layer of complexity to the situation. "i also can't tell him right now," i confessed, a hint of frustration evident in my voice. "he's apparently involved with this girl from stem."

"did he tell you that?" he asked, his voice filled with skepticism.

"no," i replied, realizing that i had simply heard it through the grapevine without any confirmation from mark himself.

"then it's not true," hyuck asserted, his words resonating with a sense of certainty. i looked at him, a glimmer of hope flickering within me.

"you are his best friend, y/n," he continued, his voice gentle yet matter-of-fact. "if he likes someone, you'll be the first one he'll talk to. sadly." his words struck a chord, emphasizing the closeness of my friendship with mark and the trust we shared.

hyuck's words resonated deeply within me, stirring a newfound determination. "try, y/n," he urged, his voice filled with encouragement.

and try, i would. i made up my mind to release the weight of my unspoken emotions, regardless of whether or not mark would reciprocate my feelings. it was no longer about seeking validation or hoping for a specific outcome. instead, it was about freeing myself from the burden of unexpressed affection, allowing my heart to find solace in the act of honesty. i realized that true liberation lay in the courage to let my emotions be known, even if it meant accepting the possibility of unrequited love.

as fate would have it, just as i resolved to confront my feelings and open myself up to vulnerability, the universe seemed to conspire in its own mischievous way. "y/n," a familiar voice called out, capturing my attention. there he was, mark lee, waving at me with an infectious smile adorning his face.

my heart skipped a beat as a mixture of excitement and nervousness coursed through me. it was as if the universe was testing my newfound resolve, presenting me with an opportunity to seize the moment. with a deep breath, i mustered the courage to meet his gaze, ready to embark on a journey that would reveal the truth of my emotions and pave the way for whatever lay ahead.

"hey, man," mark greeted donghyuck with a warm smile before his attention shifted towards me. his eyes locked with mine, and he uttered those words that sent a surge of anticipation through me, "let's go home?"

his invitation caught me off guard, my heart fluttering at the thought of spending more time with him. it's not like this is the first time we are walking home together. without hesitation, i nodded, my own smile mirroring his. "sure, let's go," i replied, unable to conceal the excitement bubbling within me.

as we bid farewell to donghyuck at the school gates, mark and i ventured further into the outside world. the sun gently kissed our faces as we strolled side by side, our footsteps creating a harmonious rhythm. in that moment, mark's words washed over me, his voice filled with a warmth and sincerity that melted my heart.

"let's just walk, hmm?" he suggested, his eyes twinkling with a hint of playfulness. "i didn't see you much today, so i want to spend more time with you." it was a simple request, but it held profound meaning for me. this was the side of mark that had always made me swoon—the one who sought my company, who cherished our moments together. the tenderness in his words enveloped me, igniting a sense of belonging and significance.

as we walked side by side, heading towards home, i couldn't help but wonder if this would be the moment to gather my courage and express what had been weighing on my heart. it was a chance to lay bare my feelings and discover where our paths might converge. with each step, the anticipation grew, filling the air with a mix of hope, apprehension, and the promise of a newfound chapter in our intertwined lives.

as if synchronized by an invisible thread connecting our hearts, the words escaped our lips simultaneously, "i want to tell you something." a moment of lighthearted surprise passed between us before a shared smile graced our faces.

with a gentle nod, i urged mark to speak first, my curiosity piqued and a warmth of anticipation spreading within me. i wanted to hear what he had to say, to immerse myself in his world of thoughts and emotions.

"hmm, i'm sure you already heard about the rumors," my heart sank as mark began to speak, his words hit me like a wave of disconnection, momentarily distancing us. despite my own hopes, i forced myself to listen, desperately clinging to the possibility that he would deny it.

"and before you scold me, i'm sorry, okay?" he interjected, a touch of remorse coloring his words. "i'm sorry for not telling you first. it's just that you've been so busy with your debate stuff. but yes, the rumors are true." his words were filled with a sense of happiness, but inside, i felt a pang of sadness. i wanted to push my own feelings aside, to let him speak and find solace in his words, even if it meant disregarding my own desires and wishes.

in the brief silence that followed mark's confession, my mind raced to process the reality of his words. one, two, three seconds passed as i grappled with a mix of emotions. however, before i could fully retreat into my thoughts, mark's voice broke through the haze, calling my name and snapping me back to reality.

"that's cool, mark," i managed to say, mustering a tone of enthusiasm, despite the conflicting emotions swirling within me. his smile widened, and for a fleeting moment, i allowed myself to believe that i had successfully masked my true feelings. in that instant, his happiness became my focus, setting aside my own desires to ensure his joy remained undisturbed.

"what was it that you wanted to say?" mark inquired, his curiosity urging me to share my thoughts.

"ah," i stammered, desperately searching for words to divert the conversation. "you know, i just wanted to mention that my debate commitments have been overwhelming lately, and i feel like i need some rest." i fabricated an explanation, my mind struggling to conjure up plausible details. but as the words left my lips, my thoughts turned into a blank canvas, drained of any creative energy. mark continued speaking, presumably attempting to uplift my spirits, but his words became distant and muffled as my focus waned.

lost in my own internal turmoil, i unknowingly made my way inside my house, the outside world fading into the background. the weight of my unspoken truth settled heavily upon my shoulders, leaving me to contemplate the consequences of my silence and the disconnection i felt in that moment.

the vibration of my phone jolted me back to reality. retrieving it from my pocket, i discovered a message from mark. the words on the screen were like a lifeline, a gentle reminder of his unwavering support.

from mark

you will do great, i just know. there's nothing you can't do, y/n.

lying on my bed, i attempted to convince myself that everything was okay, that i could handle this situation with composure. it was just a simple crush, i reassured myself, something that could be dismissed and forgotten. i resolved to force myself to let go, to erase the thoughts of him from my mind.

deep down, i yearned for him to kindly leave my thoughts, to release his hold on my heart. with these conflicting emotions swirling within me, i drifted off to sleep that night, whispering to myself that one day, perhaps, i would forget about it, though uncertain if that day would ever truly arrive.

as ten years elapsed, bringing us to the present, the time had come for our high school reunion, an event i had initially considered skipping. donghyuck, however, was relentless in his insistence that i attend. inwardly, i grappled with my own reservations, questioning the root of my hesitation. after all, they were just old friends, right? well, except for mark. but it had been a decade since we last saw each other, and i reminded myself that everything had changed. including my feelings.

with a deep breath, i resolved to face the reunion head-on. it was an opportunity to reconnect with familiar faces and witness the transformations that time had wrought upon us all. i steeled myself, ready to navigate the evening with a newfound sense of confidence, curious to see how the passage of years had molded us into the individuals we had become. and in the back of my mind, a flicker of anticipation remained, wondering what the encounter with mark, the person who once held my heart, would bring.

as i arrived at the reunion, i was greeted by the familiar voice of donghyuck. a smile crossed my lips as i took in his playful remark. "y/n!" he exclaimed, his playful tone resonating in the air. "wow, you smell successful." it was a lighthearted comment, one that instantly brought back a flood of memories and reminded me of the bond we shared. i couldn't deny that i missed him, our friendship, and the easy banter we once had.

donghyuck then reminded me of the gathering, informing me that everyone was already seated and eagerly awaiting our arrival. it was a gentle nudge to set aside any remaining hesitations and fully embrace the moment. with a renewed sense of excitement, i followed donghyuck, ready to reunite with old friends and embark on a journey of reminiscence and rediscovery.

amidst the flurry of greetings from both familiar and unfamiliar faces, a part of me remained focused on one person. as i exchanged pleasantries and engaged in small talk, my heart quietly longed for the presence of that one individual. amongst the laughter and conversations that filled the room, i found myself eagerly awaiting the moment when our paths would cross once again.

time seemed to stretch as i scanned the room, searching for that familiar face that held so much significance in my life. each passing moment heightened the anticipation, the longing growing stronger with every passing second. it was as if the reunion revolved around the hope of reconnecting with this particular person, and i couldn't deny the depth of emotion that coursed through me.

in the midst of the gathering, surrounded by old memories and new conversations, i patiently held onto the belief that this encounter held the potential to reignite a flame that had flickered in my heart for years.

"hey, y/n." the sound of my name, uttered in a familiar voice, sent a shiver down my spine. i turned around, my heart racing, and there he was—the man i had loved for years and spent a decade trying to forget. as my gaze met his, i couldn't help but notice the changes that time had wrought upon him. he exuded a sense of maturity, yet his smile remained as captivating as ever, instantly evoking memories of our shared youth.

in that moment, a flood of emotions washed over me, overwhelming yet undeniably familiar. it was as if time stood still, and the weight of our past connection resurfaced with an undeniable intensity. the years apart seemed to fade away as we stood face to face, and i found myself drawn back to a time when his presence had filled my world with warmth and excitement.

as we locked eyes, an unspoken language passed between us, encapsulating a history of shared experiences and unspoken feelings. the passage of time had only deepened the significance of our connection, and in that instant, i couldn't help but wonder if the lingering embers of our past love had the potential to reignite into something more.

"it's nice to see you again," he said, his words carrying a hint of longing, as if he had missed me deeply. the sincerity in his voice echoed through my being, reigniting the familiarity of our connection.

"wanna catch up outside?" he asked, his eyes flickering towards the serene seaside just beyond the venue, as if beckoning us to a place where we could find solace in each other's company.

a surge of anticipation swept over me, my heart yearning for a chance to reconnect and unravel the mysteries of the past decade. "mark, it's so nice to see you here," i replied, a genuine smile playing on my lips. "sure, let's go."

with each step we took towards the peaceful seaside, it felt as if we were embarking on a journey to rediscover the unspoken words and unfulfilled promises of our youth. the possibilities lay open before us, as the waves whispered tales of past memories and the sea breeze carried the promise of a shared future.

"you suddenly disappeared after we graduated, why is that?" he asked

"i'm sorry, mark. something personal came up that we had to move." i answered and then silence engulfed us.

"how have you been?" i asked, my voice filled with genuine curiosity and a touch of apprehension. his response held the power to shape the course of our conversation, and i braced myself for the unexpected.

a faint smile graced his lips, revealing a glimmer of excitement and anticipation. it was a smile reminiscent of a child eager to share a significant achievement with their parents—a smile that hinted at something significant he wanted to convey. i couldn't help but notice the contrast between his current demeanor and the person i was ten years ago. back then, i would have approached this moment with unguarded optimism, but the passage of time had taught me to temper my expectations, shielding myself from potential hurt.

deep down, i acknowledged that there was a part of me prepared for disappointment, a defense mechanism against the potential pain that might follow. however, despite the self-imposed caution, i couldn't deny the flicker of hope that ignited within me, yearning for a connection that transcended the confines of time.

"i'm getting married in december," he said, his words cutting through the air with a bittersweet tone. his smile remained, but it was now tinged with a mixture of joy and sadness. "i'm so glad to see you today, y/n. you could be a part of my big day."

those words hit me like a wave, crashing against the fragile walls i had built to protect myself. the shards of my shattered heart from ten years ago seemed to reassemble, piercing me once more. the pain i thought i had long left behind resurfaced with an intensity i never anticipated.

the conflicting emotions within me waged a silent battle. on one hand, i wanted to be genuinely happy for him, to embrace the joy of his upcoming union. but on the other, a deep ache echoed within my soul, a longing for a different outcome, for a future where our paths intertwined.

as i absorbed the weight of his announcement, i mustered a smile, my voice trembling slightly. "congratulations, mark. i'm truly honored that you would consider me to be a part of your special day." behind my polite words, i hid the remnants of a broken heart, the realization that the pain of unrequited love had found its way back to me once again.

"and it's really nice to see how good you're doing. how far you've come. i am so proud of you, mark."

a heavy sigh escaped my lips as i grappled with the weight of my emotions. in that moment, i yearned to be selfish, to put my own desires and feelings first. but deep down, i knew the truth—i never had any rights to claim. i had been living in the shadows of unrequited love, forever playing the role of the understanding friend, while my heart silently yearned for something more.

method acting had become my expertise, allowing me to wear a mask of indifference, concealing the turmoil that raged within me. i mastered the art of pretending, adept at hiding the fact that being in his presence felt like a constant struggle to keep my head above water. i told him it was nice to see how well he was doing, but beneath the surface, the truth lingered, like an unspoken ache.

in the depths of my soul, i acknowledged the bitterness that threatened to consume me. it was a bitter truth that whispered in the recesses of my mind—i still loved him, and witnessing his happiness with someone else was a constant reminder of what i could never have. but i couldn't allow those feelings to tarnish the moments we shared, so i continued to play the role of the supportive friend, my true emotions concealed beneath the facade.

[esfawkes]

A brilliant soul was lost on July 24, 2024, with the passing of Jackson Taylor ___, 31. Known to most of the world as Jack, he was Taylor to his family.

Taylor was born on April 5, 1993, in ___, AL, to Tracy and Wendy Neely as the middle of 3 children. He was preceded in death by his grandfather, Gary Lynn ___: a larger-than-life man whose memory and legacy Taylor cherished and carried with him. He is survived by the love of his life, April; his father, Tracy, and his mother, Wendy; his older brother, Nathan, and his wife, Whitney; his younger sister, Bailey; his grandmother, Wanda ___; his aunt, Monnie ___; his grandfather, James Taylor ___, and his wife, Wanda; his uncle, Chris ___; his 2 beloved dogs, Izzy and Lula, and his cat, Charlie—as well as countless other family and friends whose lives he touched.

Despite its brevity, Jack’s life overflowed with accomplishments creative, professional, and personal. He was a community leader dedicated to building others up using his own experiences in overcoming seemingly insurmountable challenges. He was gifted with great natural talent, though it was his tenacity, dedication, and determination which truly defined him. Committed to self-improvement, he embodied the spirit of getting back up after being knocked down.

Creating music was one of Taylor’s greatest joys in life; he was a marimbist, a pianist, a flautist, and a guitarist over the years, and the lyrics he wrote were raw, haunting, and cerebral. Music gave him the opportunity to experience the world beyond his hometown as part of the Music City Drum Corps in 2011. Passionate and intense, Taylor cared deeply for his family and friends. With warmth, empathy, and abundant generosity, he strove to better the lives of those around him and sought to be someone to whom others could turn for support. He wore his heart on his sleeve and was a vibrant, vivid figure with a blindingly bright future ahead of him that he forged with burning resolve and unyielding defiance.

From a young age, he was an autodidact, teaching himself whatever caught his interest to satisfy his own searing curiosity. This extraordinary self-motivation and self-discipline gave him the ability to not only recover but continuously triumph after being laid low. At the start of 2022, he was living in an RV as he took online courses in Cloud Computing at Western Governors University. By January the next year, he and his partner April had bought a beautiful house together that they spent the next year turning into a truly wonderful home.

At the time of his passing, Jack was a Cloud Services Engineer. He held many positions over the course of his career in IT, including working as a Cloud Support Technician, a Cloud Migration Lead, and a Lead Cloud Engineer. He never stopped pushing himself, and given time to realize his limitless potential, his full list of achievements would have been overwhelmingly long.

Jack will be remembered for his sense of humor, which alternated between wry and goofy, and his hugs, which were always perfect and exactly what you needed. He will be remembered for his laugh, his smile, and his refusal to be anyone or anything less than his whole self. He will be remembered for his creativity, stubbornness, and perseverance. And he will be remembered for who he was in the moments that mattered.

Above all, Taylor was unequivocally, unconditionally, and unwaveringly loved by his family, who remain immensely proud of his character, his intelligence, and his creativity, as well as his numerous achievements. Colorful and singular, there has never been and never will be another like him. One of a kind, the world is duller for his absence.

No services will be held, and in lieu of flowers, the family asks that you consider sending a donation to the National Alliance on Mental Illness at https://www.nami.org/.

If you or someone you know is struggling, please reach out for help. The 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline is available 24/7 for free simply by calling or texting 988. Your call is confidential, and you are not alone.

This obituary was written by his loving sister, who wishes more than anything that he was here to read it.

[sshewonders]

WARM BODIES

Chapter 03: The Archer

chapter synopsis: While out on your mushroom-picking quest with Glenn, unbeknownst to you, danger lurked just around the corner. Fortunately, a mysterious man with a crossbow intervened, saving you from becoming a geek's dinner. However, he wasn't alone; he had his unsettling brother, who left Glenn visibly shaken, demanding to know where you and Glenn came from. Luckily, you observed that the man with the crossbow was a hunter – precisely what the camp, or more specifically, what you needed.

chapter warnings: This chapter contains strong language, perverted content, tense moments with firearms, mild violence, psychological distress, and a suspenseful atmosphere. Daryl Dixon being hot as hell, but sassy.

word count: 3.2k words

author's note: Hello! I sincerely apologize for the delayed update. I was deeply engrossed in some work, but here we are! Our crossbow-wielding redneck has finally made an entrance! To be honest, I invested significant effort into detailing Daryl's characteristics. I aimed to avoid the cliché of love at first sight, wanting him to align closely with Norman Reedus's portrayal in the first season – somewhat sassy, if you catch my drift. By the way, thank you immensely for the support you're providing; it truly motivates me to write! Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy reading!

MASTERLIST

NEXT CHAPTER >>

You stepped out of your tent, your attire a deviation from your usual style - a thin blue and white striped flannel, complemented by a white tank top. Back in the day, your wardrobe consisted primarily of sweaters, sweatpants, and the occasional leather jacket and pants. But Atlanta's blazing sun left you with little choice.

"Damn, it's hotter than me," you muttered to yourself, reminiscing about the more temperate climate back home, far away from the unrelenting southern heat.

Emerging from your tent, you clutched a red bucket and secured a small hunting knife to your belt, your trusty brown sling bag slung over one shoulder. Shane, ever the vigilant protector, had his shotgun slung casually over the other shoulder as he called out to you.

"Hey, you pickin' mushrooms?" Shane drawled in his annoying voice.

You turned around, squinting at Shane from the intense sunlight. Your eyes, an inherited trait from your father, were sensitive to the bright glare, while your brother boasted your mother's striking blue eyes, which never failed to spark a twinge of envy on you.

"Yeah?" You responded, raising an arm to shield your eyes from the sun.

"Wait for me. I'll come with you."

"No."

Shane, his voice oozing with frustration, barked, "Y/N, for the love of... it ain't safe out there alone!"

Your irritation flared, and you snapped back, "I can handle myself, Shane. I've survived this long without you babysitting me. I don't need your damn help."

Narrowing you eyes at Shane, you made it clear you didn't need his assistance, nor did you particularly relish his company on the excursion.

Shane, not one to back down, flashed a glare. "Y'know this world ain't what it used to be. Better safe than sorry. Besides, can't let ya out there with that little peashooter of a knife."

You sighed, your reluctance clear. "I can handle myself, Shane. I told you."

Before Shane could respond, Glenn, appeared on the scene. "Hey, guys, no need to argue, alright? I'll go with Y/N. Better two pairs of eyes than one, right?"

Glenn, carrying a bucket with just a few mushrooms, happily trotted behind you. He'd successfully convinced you to bring your recurve bow along, and his grin was the picture of contentment. However, you couldn't quite wrap your head around the idea. Why on earth would you need a bow for a mushroom-picking trip? You didn't have the faintest clue about hunting or shooting arrows at moving targets like walkers or animals. Still, you carried it with you, albeit with a puzzled look.

The sound of Glenn humming "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da" by the Beatles filled the air as you continued your journey. You suddenly stopped in your tracks and turned to face Glenn, a deadpan expression on your face. You dropped your sling bag to the ground, making a thud that seemed to mirror your exasperation. Glenn's humming came to a halt, and he wore a concerned expression. "What's wrong?" he asked.

You let out a long, dramatic sigh and voiced your confusion about why you were lugging your bow around for mushroom picking. "Tell me again why I had to bring my bow? Honestly, just admit it that bringing the bow was completely useless."

Glenn, ever the optimist, replied, "It's not useless, Y/N." Your raised eyebrow silently demanded an explanation, so he continued, grinning all the while. "I've noticed that when you're carrying that bow, you become way more focused and aware of your surroundings. It's like the bow is giving you some kind of 'hunter's power' you haven't fully unlocked yet."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at Glenn's explanation. "You're probably making that up, Glenn," you scoffed, though a part of her wondered if there might be a grain of truth in his words.

Glenn, undeterred by your skepticism, persisted with a good-natured grin. "I'm serious. I've seen it. You might not be a hunter yet, but it's like your instincts kick in when you have that bow. Trust me, it's not just for show."

You shot him a half-smile, still not entirely convinced. "Well, it'd be nice to unlock some super-secret bow skills," you quipped. "But for now, it's just extra weight I'm carrying around."

Glenn chuckled, picking up his bucket of mushrooms and you continued on your quest. "Hey, you never know. Maybe one day that bow will save our lives."

You smirked playfully, nudging Glenn's shoulder with your elbow. "Alright, I'll keep it handy. Just in case we come across any killer mushrooms out here."

You both continued the walk through the woods until your sharp eyes spotted a cluster of mushrooms nestled beside a decaying wooden log. Eager to add to your collection, you both knelt down to start plucking the mushrooms. Glenn questioned, "Hey, are these mushrooms safe to eat?"

You fingers gently inspecting the mushrooms as you gathered them, offered a reassuring smile. "Yeah, these are the same kind my father and I used for stew that one time when we went camping. It's a good thing my brother didn't come along with us; he managed to sprain his ankle, being a bit of a dumbass."

As Glenn continued to gather mushrooms, he looked over at you, curiosity in his eyes. "Hey," he began, "tell me about your life before all this craziness."

You scoffed playfully and replied, "My life doesn't have much to tell, Glenn."

Glenn persisted, "Well, I told you about my background, so why not share yours with me?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "First of all, you told me your background because you were bored and couldn't keep your mouth shut, and you're a bad liar," you teased. "And second, my life was pretty ordinary. Just Y/N Grimes, nothing special."

Glenn pouted and playfully begged, "Come on, there's gotta be something interesting about it."

You deeply sighed, and then shared your family history, revealing that your older brother played a significant role in your upbringing. Raised by your nurse mother and town sheriff father, you and your brother spent much of your childhood playing outdoors. Despite your parents' busy schedules, they ensured you both were well-cared for. Your brother, your constant companion, played a pivotal role until he went to college when you were seven. Your mom occasionally took you to the hospital where you befriended the staff, while your dad, a sheriff, introduced you to art at the police station. You developed a love for bows at nine, excelling in archery and winning awards in competitions, choosing it over baseball.

Curiosity getting the best of him, Glenn asked you, "Hey, why haven't you mentioned your brother's name to anyone? Same goes for Lori, she's never mentioned her husband's name, and Carl hasn't talked about his dad's name either."

You bit your bottom lip, a hint of sadness in your eyes, and shrugged. "I guess I just don't feel right saying his name, especially now that he's... well, probably not around anymore. Lori and Carl might feel the same way." You let out a soft sigh.

With the bucket nearly full of mushrooms, Glenn flashed you a soft smile. "You know, if it weren't for you, I'd probably be a geek's dinner that time, dehydrated and all."

You returned his smile, your expression equally warm. "Don't mention it, Glenn. I just did what was right."

You and Glenn strolled through the forest, your footsteps barely making a sound on the soft, damp ground. Glenn held the bucket of freshly picked mushrooms, while you carried your recurve bow.

The forest enveloped you both in its tranquil beauty, the trees rising tall and proud, their branches creating a canopy that filtered the fading daylight. The deep blue sky was speckled with hints of orange as the sun began its descent. You admired the interplay of shadows and light as you followed Glenn's lead.

Glenn's hiss drew your gaze, your voice tinged with concern. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Glenn replied hastily, a touch of urgency in his voice. "I need to pee. Just need a minute."

With that, he disappeared behind the tree, leaving you to quip under your breath, "Well, I guess even the apocalypse doesn't stop Mother Nature's demands."

You rolled you eyes in response and settled down on a sturdy log. With the forest's canopy above you, you gazed up at the sky, marveling at the delicate dance of leaves and branches against the deepening blue backdrop. Evening was approaching more swiftly than you had anticipated.

Setting your recurve bow against the log, you picked up the bucket and inspected your mushroom haul. A tinge of disappointment washed over you as you realized you both had collected only a handful of the edible fungi. It wouldn't be sufficient to feed the entire camp.

"Shit," you muttered to yourself, a longing for something more substantial like venison crossing your mind. If only you possessed the skill to hunt with your recurve bow, you fantasized, you could be inside your tent savoring a venison barbecue.

Then, something in your guts told you that something was wrong.

As you cautiously held your recurve bow, an arrow ready to be nocked, she heard the distinct sound of a gun being cocked, followed by a muffled whimper. Your senses went on high alert, and you pinpointed the source of the noise, noticing the whimper was stifled, likely by the hand of someone nearby.

You moved carefully, your gaze scanning your surroundings but finding nothing out of the ordinary. An eerie silence hung in the air. "Glenn," you called, concern lacing your voice, but received no response. You inched closer to the large tree behind which Glenn had disappeared, still hearing no movement.

Growing more uneasy, you called out Glenn's name again, you tone pleading as you asked him to stop playing this prank. "Glenn, this isn't funny! Come on, where are you?"

But then, it hit you: Glenn didn't carry a gun. The dread intensified, and you readied your recurve bow, albeit knowing you couldn't fire an arrow with precision if the target was moving.

Your heart raced with worry as the thought of something terrible happening to Glenn crossed your mind. Your concern grew so intense that you failed to notice the approach of a geek that crept up behind you. Only the sound of a low growl snapped your attention back to the present. You spun around, panic in your eyes, and found yourself face to face with a ravenous-looking geek.

A startled yelp escaped your lips as your mind raced, and then, as if fate intervened, an arrow sliced through the air, embedding itself deep in the geek's skull. Before you could process the rescue, another rustling of leaves drew your focus. You immediately nocked an arrow and aimed at the source.

Your heart pounded as you locked eyes with a man, an unmistakably living one. He held a crossbow, which was aimed directly at you. In response, you pointed your recurve bow at him, the tension was palpable. He was dressed in tattered, sleeveless attire and jeans, his skin marked by dirt and blood. But what caught your attention the most were his piercing blue eyes, narrowed and locked onto you with a mix of curiosity and caution.

A taller, older man in equally as dirty clothes wielding a handgun emerged behind the tree, covering poor and shaking Glenn's mouth.

You swiftly shifted your recurve bow, your eyes blazing with anger, from pointing at the archer with the crossbow to the man who had kidnapped Glenn. You glared at him, you frustration and anger palpable in the intensity of your gaze.

The man had a smile that made you uneasy. He looked at you up and down lasciviously whilst licking his thin, dried lips. The man spoke with a sly grin. "Well, ain't you a sight for sore eyes. A pretty little thing out here in the woods."

You maintained a guarded silence, apprehensive that opening your mouth might escalate into something more ominous. The tension hung in the air, as you weighed the consequences of uttering a word.

"Well, sweetheart, the name's Merle. Me and my baby brother are just fellas tryin' to survive in this world gone to hell. What 'bout you? Out here all alone?" Merle asked.

Fear coursed through you as Merle introduced himself and pressed the handgun against Glenn's temple. Glenn whimpered and cried, and you, your hands trembling, kept your recurve bow at the ready.

Merle, his eyes never leaving you, spoke in a low, threatening tone. "Put the damn bow down, girl, or I won't think twice about puttin' a bullet in his brainpan. You ought to be polite to man holding a gun."

You reluctantly lowered you recurve bow to the ground. Glenn, still shaking, looked at you with pleading eyes. "I'm so, sorry..."

Your heart ached for your friend, but your focus remained on Merle, who had a dangerous glint in his eye. You couldn't help but wonder about the other archer lurking behind you.

Merle suddenly released Glenn, and the younger man rushed to your side, positioning himself behind you as a shield. Merle's laughter filled the air as he walked over to where Daryl stood, still pointing his crossbow at you.

You anger seething beneath your usual shyness as you shot a defiant glare at the two men. In ths tense moment, you may not have felt adorable, but your determination was unmistakable.

Merle's rough voice cut through the tension, "Where y'all come from? What you doin' in these woods?"

You shot back with a determined but cautious glare, refusing to answer. Your silence spoke louder than any words.

Merle's eyes locked onto the bucket of mushrooms you were carrying, and he leaned in, inquiring, "Are you just out here gatherin' stuff?"

Daryl, however, didn't lower his crossbow. Merle wondered if that was the reason you weren't answering his question. He couldn't contain his frustration and yelled at Daryl, "Lower your damn crossbow, little brother!"

Daryl, a bit wary, lowered his crossbow, his gaze lingering at you with an unreadable expression. Merle, however, let out another wild laugh and inquired, "Y'all got a camp or somethin'?"

Glenn was about to respond, but you cut him off with a curt, "Fuck off."

Merle's temper flared, and he pointed his gun directly at you, the barrel aimed at your forehead. You didn't even flinch, your gaze steady and defiant.

Your fiery glare remained locked on Merle, who continued to cackle manically. It was evident he might have been high. Even with the tension, you couldn't help but sense Daryl's gaze on you, so you turned to him, your expression less fierce. Your careful appraisal seemed to make him uneasy as he shifted his focus and tightened his grip on his crossbow.

Your eyes then took notice of the lifeless squirrels hanging from his body. He held his crossbow with a hunter's grace, a professional stance that didn't escape your observation. It all clicked for you now – these two strangers in the woods, Daryl and Merle, were hunters, or at least one of them was. It was evident that Daryl was the skilled one.

A myriad of questions flooded your mind. Would they prove valuable additions to the group at the quarry, or would they bring nothing but trouble? They were, after all, just strangers, weren't they? However, you decided that you needed to find out for herself. The prospect of gaining skilled hunters and learning new survival skills was too tempting to ignore, even if it meant taking a risk.

However, before you could say something, Glenn, positioned behind you, leaned in and whispered his concern. "I know what you're thinking, don't do it. This feels like a bad idea. I've got a bad feeling about it."

You turned to Glenn, reassuring him, "Trust me. We need their skills and help."

You then turned to the two strangers, Merle and Daryl, and sighed heavily. "Listen, if we take you back to our camp, will you agree to one thing? To help us get food? No one in the camp knows how to hunt."

Daryl scoffed, rolling his eyes, "Can't ya teach yourselves? I ain't a damn teacher," he said. "Ya got a bow, why don't ya teach yourself, huh?" He then spat at you.

Although somewhat hurt by his words, you glared at him. "Listen, Robinhood," you began, "Last time I had a bullseye was with target practice, not a growling, flesh-hungry, walking dead."

Daryl retorted with a scowl, "Maybe if ya spent less time jawin' and more time learnin', you wouldn't be dependin' on others to keep ya fed, woman."

You scowled at him, saying, "Relax, dude. It's only been a week since the world ended. It's not as if the world gave me a heads up or warned me about the geeks and how to deal with them."

Daryl shot back with frustration, "Well, ain't that just peachy? Should've figured, talkin' to someone who thinks the end of the world is an excuse for ignorance."

Before you could reply or even deliver a hard slap, Merle intervened, placing his hands between you and Daryl, attempting to calm you both down. However, you knew it wouldn't be of much help.

"Calm down now, baby brother. It ain't the right way to talk to a pretty lady," Merle drawled with a sly smirk, then drawled his gaze over you, "Especially a lady like this, bambi," he drawled, licking his lips.

It was awful; it made you feel small and somewhat frightened under his perverted gaze. Unbeknownst to you, however, Daryl noticed the slight shaking of your hands.

"Shut up, Merle," Daryl spat at his brother, then turned to you, drawling, "Just bring us to your camp, and then we'll talk about a deal."

However, as expected, Merle couldn't resist injecting his usual dose of crudeness. Leering at you, he remarked, "Well, hope you don't mind a bit of dirt, sweetheart."

Displaying a sense of decency, Daryl quickly intervened with a stern expression and a firm command, "I said, shut up, Merle!"

"Shut up yourself ---"

Then, Glenn interfered, cutting Merle off. He positioned himself in front of you, puffing his chest out, though his hands were both shaking. "If you say another perverted thing to her, trust me, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Suddenly got a sad thought of a tearful Joanna!lookalike!reader asking if she didn’t look eactly Joanna would she be as loved as she is now? (I feel having a face that isn’t yours and being loved only because of who she looks like would be damaging a little because it might come off as that love being conditional)

I can’t help but imagine Joanna!lookalike just breaking down in the middle of a family dinner or after someone (probably Tywin) slips up and calls the Reader ‘Joanna’ to their face. They’ve let it slide so many times and just acted like they hadn’t heard someone call them by a name that wasn’t theirs. But in reality every time it happened, any time someone spoke so highly of the late Joanna and how much the Reader resembled her so much it would only wear the Reader down all the more emotionally and mentally.

How could the Reader not be effected by the feeling and thought of only really being loved because they looked like someone else? That of course would weigh on them heavily. Even their own siblings were brought up to idolize them for being someone they weren’t. If anything the way their family treated them, excluding Robert, would only push them away more. Pushing them into the hands of other people more than willing to give them the genuine love they desperately craved for who they were and not just because they resembled someone else.

Out of the lot, I see Jaime and Tyrion being the ones of House Lannister who are conscious of the effect that has been placed on the Reader for looking like their late mother. Of course it’s nice for them to have a piece of their mother with them again but they also know that the Reader isn’t their mother and that they are their own person. It’s mainly Tywin and Cersei who have a harder time separating the two, but it’s not just them who see the Reader as a resemblance of Joanna, other House Lannister members who were around when the original Joanna was also have trouble discerning the Reader from the late Joanna.

When the Reader breaks down, everyone would be at their side, especially Cersei. I can see Jaime trying to pull Cersei back after seeing the distress the Reader is in and if they were trying to push her away themself. I feel like Tywin would be frozen in place as Joanna!lookalike sobs about whether he would still care for them like he does if they didn’t look like their grandmother. He’s immediately hit with the recognition of what he’s put on his grandchild. Meanwhile, Cersei is still fighting to stay by her beloved child’s side, shushing them and reassuring that they would be immensely loved no matter what. Even Tywin would be trying to get Cersei away from the Reader as they continue to sob and clutch at themself for some semblance of comfort. He would order Jaime to force Cersei out of the room and away from the Reader and he would oblige, carrying Cersei out as she scratches and claws at him to get back to her bby.

Meanwhile, Myrcella, Tommen, and Joffrey don’t know what to do as their precious sibling breaks down in front of them and everyone else. Someone they knew to be so strong and dependable, gentle and loving; was now crumbling before their very eyes desperately in need of some form of reassurance and support. But before anyone of them can get close to their sibling and comfort them in whatever way they can, they’re all removed from the room and away from their vulnerable sibling.

If yandad Robert were still alive at this time he would have everyone kicked out from the room the moment the Reader started breaking down. Hell, he would have had his kingsguard rip Cersei away from Joanna!lookalike and guard the Reader from her before forcefully removing her from the room as well but it would have been much more immediate and a lot more messy. Whether in the moment or afterwards, Robert would make it very well known that Tywin and Cersei have absolutely ruined the Reader with their Joanna obsession. This may be when Robert decides to send the Reader off to be as far away from their mother and grandfather as possible so they can recover and be themself, as well as for Robert to spite Cersei and Tywin.

In either scenario, with or without Robert in the picture, if the the Mountain was there he would step in and take the Reader out of the situation. Even without being ordered to. When he sees Joanna!lookalike in distress he’s overcome with the intense need to get them away, away from everyone. He doesn’t care about anything else going on around him, it’s all tunnel vision and the only think he can see or think about is getting his darling Joanna!lookalike out of there.

Out of the two I can see Tywin being more understanding and recognizing the magnitude of the repercussions of their actions concerning the Reader. He would be stewing about how to make it up to his grandchild and make them feel wanted and appreciated for more than just sharing the face of someone else. Meanwhile, Cersei would still be blinded and delusional about the whole thing, believing that she’s not in the wrong about anything. As far as she’s concerned it’s other people who have pointed her child’s mind into thinking and feeling the way they do. She knows damn well, without a doubt in her mind, that she would love her children no matter what, especially Joanna!lookalike even if they didn’t look so much like her late mother. She completely and utterly refuses to allow Robert to say or think that she has ruined her child whatsoever, she hasn’t! She has been nothing but a loving and doting mother, what more could be asked of her? So what if she has been a bit more invested in one child over the others, that doesn’t mean anything.

[bugboy-behaviour]

!!URGENT!!

Please Help Evacuate Ezzideen Shehab and his Family from Gaza!!

Ezzideen Shehab and his family (Ezzideen, his 12-year-old brother Mazan, his sister Abdeer, his brother Hassan, and his mother and father) are currently trapped in Rafah & are suffering from dire starvation. They have already lost 72 family members. Please, anyone who sees this, read this post all the way through, reblog it, and please donate if you can.

Let @blackpearlblast know on this post when you donate to Ezzideen's GoFundMe so that they and Boshra (the organizer of the campaign) can match the donations!!

There's other information on how to help at the bottom of this post.

Who are Ezzideen Shehab and his family?

Ezzideen Shehab is a brilliant new doctor, who had graduated only a week before the genocide in Gaza began. Throughout all of years of schooling, he never once visited his family back in Gaza, for fear of being trapped inside. Still, he had dreamed of seeing them again. When he finally graduated, the need for his family was immense. But when he finally took a trip back home to celebrate this incredible achievement with his loved ones, something he had dreamed of for so long, Israel trapped them inside Gaza, along with hundreds of thousands of others, murdered many of their family members, and destroyed their home.

His sister, Abeer, was doing incredible work as a translator before the genocide in Gaza. Tragically, she was unable to continue this pursuit, and lost her job because of the violent, constant, bombardments happening around her and her family.

Their brother, Hassan, is a responsible and kind man. He was working as an accountant, and had just secured an international work contract that would have provided Hassan and his family with an array of new horizons and opportunities. He and his family were this close to obtaining something new and promising, but because of influences outside of their control, this has been stripped from them.

Ezzideen's parents are amazing people who raised 4 wonderful children. Ezzideen's father had recently retired from his job as a dedicated employee at the Ministry of Information. But, instead of being rewarded for his hard work with a peaceful retirement, he has been met with the murders of his loved ones and a life of constant fear and danger.

Finally, there's Mazen, Ezzideen's 12-year-old younger brother. Mazen is an incredibly bright 7th grade boy, who, instead of going to school and experiencing typical 7th grade antics and embarrassments (which we all know this website loves to joke and reminisce about), is living under constant bombardment and starvation. He is faced with death and despair on a daily basis, as all other children in Gaza are. I have personally seen photos of children his age blown to bits. I can only imagine what he's seen. What he's felt. His right to be a child has been stripped from him under the Israeli command. Under no circumstances should a child be not allowed to grow up; growing up should not be a privilege. Mazen deserves to live a long and normal life, one where a daily fear of death upon him and his family members feels like an alien concept.

Mazen deserves to grow old, and he deserves to grow happy.

No one, let me repeat; No one, deserves to go through what Ezzideen and his family are going through right now. Certainly no child ever should. The genocide happening in Gaza right now is the most horrific thing I've ever seen in my life. I'm not exaggerating. This is the most horrific thing I have ever seen. And I'm just an American bystander. I can get up from my screen and leave the house and be safe. I cannot Fucking imagine what it must be like for the people trapped in Gaza. They can't do that. They can't get up and walk away from what's happening. This is their reality, every second of every day.

But it's not too late. You, the person reading this, have power in this situation. You have a voice. If we can get them the help they need, and soon, they can evacuate. Ezzideen can pursue a further education in medicine. Abeer and Hassan can continue their incredible work to support their family and themselves. Mazen can grow up.

Support for this family has already made a difference. By sharing and donating to their cause, Ezzideen's mother has already been able to register for evacuation. Your actions make a difference. Your shares make a difference. Your donations, no matter how small, make a difference. I promise.

How To Help

donate to Ezzideen's GoFundMe, which I linked at the top of this post

Donate in exchange for commissions from @void-botanist (info here)

Donate 50$ or more in exchange for a t-shirt, bag, or notebook from @boshradaoud (info here)

Reply on this post when you donate to Ezzideen's GoFundMe so that they and Boshra (the organizer of the campaign) can match the donations

Reblog this post (& tag it with a recognizable tag so people can search for it on your blog)

Repost & share the information contained in this post to other social media websites (INCLUDE A LINK TO THE GOFUNDME)

Make your own posts about the subject!! The more people talking about this, the better!!

^^relating to that, DON'T STOP TALKING ABOUT PALESTINE!!! no matter who you are, how small your blog is, or what theme you post with, YOU SHOULD BE SPEAKING OUT ABOUT WHAT'S HAPPENING IN GAZA, even if that just means reblogging every pro-palestine post you see!! THERE IS A GENOCIDE GOING ON!! and as a human being, it is YOUR responsibility to talk about it. That's just what you do.

If you can, attend protests and events in your community to help support Palestine. Remember to prepare with the proper equipment if you're going to be protesting (especially if you live in America) so that police will have a harder time recognizing you

Big thank you to Boshra Daoud for organizing Ezzideen's GoFundMe, for reaching out to me about this, and for providing all of the images used in this post.