#not alone

[enii]

Not at my best, but still trying my hardest💕

[blackjessy]

Das Gute an Tumblr?

Hier ist ein Safe Place.

Es geht nicht um Beliebtheit.

Du bist anonym.

Es ist egal wie du aussiehst, was für "Macken" du hast.

Der einzige Ort an dem man sein kann wie man ist; wer man ist.

Man kann seine Gedanken teilen.

Man fühlt sich auf eine bestimmte Weise wohl hier.

[svtcheers]

JEONGHAN   ✶  NOT ALONE M/V ( 2021 )

[ohkate]

You had my back.

[thefunniestturtlepurple]

No matter how much you hurt, how much you lose, how much you feel like you mean nothing, aren't needed, are useless, can't do ANYTHING... you are so worth it, you mean so much, you will NEVER be nothing, YOU are not useless, you can do SO MUCH. And you are NEVER alone. You are not alone. You will always have someone there for you, even if you haven't met them yet. There is so many things to live for. Even if you can't see them now. I love you, and you might not even know me. But I know, I love you.

I hope you will have a good day/night. I hope something good happens to you tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that, and if nothing good happens on those days, something good next week, the week after that, next month, next year. Live for that good moment. Strive for it. You are so worth it, and so is your life. Never forget that.

[jackattack90909]

Night Stalker

[deanwinchesterswitch]

Not Alone

Summary: Everything good slips through his fingers. 

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,220

Warnings: Angst; Character death

Beta: @princessmisery666

Inspired by: Not Alone by Patty Griffin

Features shrouded in darkness, he leans back against the headboard, hand fisted in the cold sheets she left behind. The only illumination is the sliver of light that forces its way in through the barely open doorway and ends at the heel of his boot. He does nothing to staunch the endless flow of tears that drench his lashes and stain salty trails down his cheeks. 

Watching from the corner of the room as his shoulders slump and he draws in a deep, ragged breath, she whispers, “You’re not alone.”

“Aren’t I?” is his bitter response.

Slipping through the shadows, she sits on the edge of the bed. “You’ll get through this.”

“I can’t. I don’t-” Voice wavering, he slams a fist into the mattress. “It wasn’t supposed to end like this. “I should have-” 

Anguished eyes drift upward, and she meets them with a tender smile. “It’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” he vehemently grinds out through clenched teeth.

“No. It’s not!”

Lips twisting, he sneers, “I should have kept you safe.”

“Dean-” Shaking her head, she sighs. It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. They had been caught in the crossfire of a robbery while in town. Rehashing the events of that day won’t change anything, and she doesn’t want to waste what little time she has with him. What matters is that he lets go and begins to heal. 

A guttural sob fills the room as he looks to the clear garment bag that still hangs from the hook on the wall and the lace-covered lavender dress pristinely preserved within, despite the rusty red drops indelibly dotting the bag’s bottom left corner seam. “You-” clearing his throat, fingers angrily drag over his cheeks to pinch the bridge of his nose as he sniffs, “you’d have been the hottest bride ever.”

Smiling, she teases, “It would have been a hell of a party.”

He forces a smirk despite the pain, but when his gaze drifts back to her, he chokes on a sharp inhale and quickly squeezes his eyes shut, no longer seeing the beauty of her smile or sparkling eyes. Instead, her shirt is stained crimson, her hair matted and sticky with the blood that flows from her neck where the bullet ripped through her jugular, eyes filled with fear as she stares up at him while he cradles her in his arms.

Pursing his lips, he concentrates on slowing his racing pulse by conjuring happier memories, desperately trying to deepen his shallow breathing.

He’d never felt more alive than when he was with her. She gave him hope beyond anything he’d ever dreamed of and loved him despite his flaws and the darkness that perpetually surrounded him. A brief sense of calmness settles in him, but then she lays a hand on his leg, and he’s reminded of the soul filled with goodness that brightened his shadowed edges undeservedly snuffed out simply by being near him. 

She was the light at the end of a very long tunnel he never thought he’d reach. When he did, he let himself believe he had finally earned his chance at a ‘normal’ life. He let his guard down, and the other shoe dropped, leaving him stranded in his loss …again. Tears press at the backs of his lids, and a low wail builds in his throat at the coldness of her touch through the denim covering his shin. 

“Dean,” her voice is sweet and soothing, unlike the garbled words that still echo in his mind, “see me the way you want to remember me.”

Warmth slowly seeps from beneath her palm, traveling up his body and filling the room. When he opens his eyes, she’s surrounded by a golden light that seemingly collapses into her, seeping into her pores until she appears to be radiating light from within. Flesh tinged with the dewy pink of a newborn baby.

“What the-” he rasps, shock etched into his features.

Holding her hands out in front of her, she flips them over and wiggles her fingers, her smile soft and full of wonder as she looks at him. “I’ve been practicing,” she whispers smugly, but her smile falters. “It’s only temporary.”

His features contort, hands fisting, eyes filled with fury and grief lift to glare at the ceiling. Quickly crawling up the bed, she cradles his face in her hands. “Hey, no. Look at me.” 

His upper lip twitches, and he tries to fight her hold, breaths heavy and quick, but her grip remains firm. “It should have been me.”

When his jaw muscles clench, she smoothes a thumb over his cheek, voice gently authoritative. “Dean. It was in my book. He won’t rewrite it.” 

Scrubbing a hand down his face, he shakes his head. He knows they don't have much time—knows what this is costing her. As always, she’s trying her hardest to take on the brunt of suffering to protect him, but he can feel it writhing beneath the gentleness of her touch, see it etched in the soft lines around her smile. He bites into his bottom lip and briefly closes his eyes, fighting to hold back the emotional turmoil rising inside him. She begins to hum their song, and the swell recedes.

His demeanor softens when he turns his attention back to her, but defiance still lingers in the gleaming, virescent depths. “That anger, that fire, raging inside you, let it go. You can find a purpose for it later.” Her thumb continues to stroke his cheek, and his breathing begins to even out. “Right now, just lie with me. Okay?”

Warm, supple lips press against his, and his chest heaves. Tears of misery and joy mingle in his eyes. Before he can compose himself and kiss her properly in return, she stretches out next to him, draping an arm over his waist. His body reacts before his brain catches up, arms encircling her and pulling her in tight.

Ear pressed over his heart, she wraps a leg over his and snuggles close, removing any space left between them. His skin dampens as her tears seep through the thin cotton of his shirt. “I want you to promise me that you’ll get on with things. You have a life to live.”

“How am I supposed to do that without you?”

“You make other plans and let time help you forgive.” When he remains silent, uncertainty seeping from every pore, arms flexing and squeezing around her, she urges, “Promise?”

“I can’t- ” Fingers dig into his bicep as she huffs. He swallows thickly around the emotions threatening to choke him. Burying his face in her hair, he mumbles, “Fine. I- I promise.”

“I’ll be watching,” she whispers, then softly giggles, “but not in a creepy way.” Tilting her head back, she kisses the tip of his chin, then nuzzles into his neck. 

Dean grunts, laughter a comfort he’s not ready to welcome yet. He loosens his grip on the lock of her hair tangled between his fingers—the one he’d clipped despite knowing the consequences—and places it on the nightstand. Pulling her on top of him, he cages her in his arms to keep their bodies flush. He knows that come morning, he will need to burn the last fragments of connection that keep her near, but tonight he’s not alone.

Love Me Some Pie tag list:

@123passwort // @akshi8278 // @asgoodasdancingqueen // @calaofnoldor // @compresshischest09 // @deaneverafter // @deans-baby-momma // @deans-spinster-witch // @deanwanddamons // @globetrotter28 // @iamsapphine // @idreamofplaid // @impala-dreamer // @iprobablyshipit91 // @irgendwas122 // @jerkbitchidjitassbutt // @justagirlinafandomworld // @justrealizedimmascifygurl // @ladysparkles78 // @lyarr24 // @mimaria420 // @mrswhozeewhatsis // @musicissmylife // @mvdeanw // @pallographsunspot // @princessmisery666 // @raisinggray // @shawnie74 // @thinkinghardhardlythinking // @thoughts-and-funnies // @waynes-multiverse // @wayward-and-worn // @waywardbaby // @weepingwillowphoenix // @yvonneeeee

[lilmonstas]

:tillycry:

[dumblr]

[tryinganythingtobehappyagain]

No but redoing not alone as a ruth and richie duet platonically I'm not crying you are

[enii]

Thank you for staying 💕

[evilhorse]

You will never be alone.

(Detective Comics #1075)

[lokisam83]

WIP

Because I don't want Loki and Crowley be alone for this new year. Creating fireworks and stars together

[dreams-shape-the-world]

One shot, one angel, one demon, one was alone, one thought he fell, through kindness and understanding they are now one. Though they don't know it yet.

[momentsbeforemass]

Alone

One of the saddest things is giving up. And falling into despair.

When the hard stuff of life hits – whether it’s death or divorce, illness or addiction, betrayal or money problems. And you’ve been praying and waiting, hoping and believing for someone or something to make it all go away. Or at least be with you in it.

But often the hard stuff doesn’t go away. And if no one comes, it’s hard not to give up. It’s hard not to fall into despair.

I’ve talked with a lot of people who have given up. They’re good people. People who care, people who try. People who would help you in a heartbeat if they knew you were hurting.

For most of them, the reason they gave up wasn’t the hard stuff they were facing.

They gave up because they felt isolated. Like no one else knew or cared about what they were dealing with.

They gave up because they felt alone.

Which makes giving up even more tragic. Because none of us are ever alone.

Which is why today’s Feast of the Guardian Angels is so important. To remind us that before we were ever born, God gave each of us a guardian angel.

An angel to be with you, every step of the way. In good times and bad.

To support you, to strengthen you, no matter how hard life hits you.

Even if you don’t really believe in angels. Even if you’re not sure you have a guardian angel. You do. That’s how much God loves you.

No matter what you’ve done. Or how far you think you’ve run. Your angel is there. Now.

Watching over you. Ready to support you, to strengthen you, to be with you. All for the asking.

If you’ve never done it before. And even if you have. Take a moment today to follow the advice of St. Ambrose. “Pray to the angels, for they are given to us as guardians.”

Ask your angel to be with you. In whatever you’re dealing with.

And ask God for the grace to know in your heart – no matter what you’re going through, no matter how hard life hits you – that you are never alone.

Today’s Readings

[nineonemedia]

stargazing

Dark skies allow us to see the light from the universe