#don't look back (1967)

[myrockandrollking]

So I watched Don't Look Back last night and it was absolutely amazing. It not only made me fall in love Bob even more, but it also made me start to love Joan after I heard her sing for the first time. I think I'm going to listen to more of her music soon. I can't with this movie, I love it so much! 🖤

[hide-your-bugs-away]

Bob Neuwirth edit I made three years ago aaaaaa 🤲 (featuring footage from Dont Look Back and 65 Revisited)

Song: "Tattoos" by Caravan Palace

[illustraction]

DON’T LOOK BACK (1967) - BOB DYLAN POSTERS (Part 6/10)

One of Bob Dylan’s most important visual moment is the opening scene in the 1965 Music documentary - shot during his British tour by D.A. Pennebaker - where he holds lyrics cards to the song Subterranean Homesick Blues.

The scene cemented his reputation as a groundbreaking artist both musical and visual.

Above is the very limited edition printed for the 2017 Japanese rerelease

Director: D.A. Pennebaker Actors: Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Donovan, Marianne Faithfull, Allen Ginsberg

All our BOB DYLAN POSTERS ARE HERE

If you like this entry, check the other 9 parts of this week’s Blog as well as our Blog Archives

All our NEW POSTERS are here All our ON SALE posters are here

The poster above courtesy of ILLUSTRACTION GALLERY

[theetherealbloom]

I LOVE YOU, I'M SORRY

Summary: Your soulmate’s birthday is written on your arm, and it just happened to be the day the world ended.

Pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Apocalypse, ANGST, Fluff, Infected, Violence, Scratching, Age-Gap (the reader is in her 20s) Romance, Unrequited, Longing, Yearning, Secrets, Injury, Blood, Jealousy, Secret Glances, Metaphors, Character Death/s, Raiders, Ambush, Hospital, Stress, Hurt-To-Comfort, 

Word Count: 7k

A/N: I 1000% came up with this one night while scrolling through prompts and AUs I could do for Joel. I saw the Soulmate AU and I was like “oh, yeah,” *evil laugh* and then I heard the snippet for I love you, I’m Sorry and I was like, “yep, perfect, time to go through pain :D” 

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: i love you, i’m sorry by gracie abrams

| Main Masterlist |

September 26, 1967.

The date emblazoned on your wrist felt like a cruel joke, a bitter reminder of a world that had crumbled around you. The small pulse of the glow on your wrist thrummed, a haunting echo of the past. September 26 was outbreak day. The day the end of the world had come crashing down, leaving chaos and devastation in its wake. The inked numbers throbbed on your skin, a constant reminder that your soulmate was out there, somewhere in this apocalyptic wasteland.

You traced the numbers on your wrist, the ink seeming darker today, wondering if you’d ever meet the person who was meant for you. What kind of person could they be? Were they strong, gentle, kind, or hardened by the harsh world?

Hiding the mark from Joel for almost a decade took more than just care; it took an absolute miracle. You met Joel, Tess, and Tommy on your way to the Boston QZ. When you saw Joel’s wrist and the date there, you almost stopped breathing. Your birthdate on his skin was an unexpected blow. The ink on your wrist seemed to burn, yearning to connect with Joel. But his mark didn’t seem to react the same way.

When Joel and Tess started sleeping together, the walls between your apartments were paper-thin which seemed to amplify every intimate sound. You often found yourself wandering the hallways late at night, evading FEDRA officers, sitting on the rooftop, looking up at the empty night sky, stars twinkling, the moon bright. You wished for something good in a world gone bad.

You always wore long sleeves, even in unbearable heat. If you wore a short-sleeved shirt, you never took off your jacket, always coming up with some insane excuse about how cozy it was. It had become second nature, a routine you hardly thought about anymore.

As you kept your head down and worked, the grime and sweat accumulates on your skin. In exchange for your labor, you were given ration cards to obtain basic necessities.

"If it's so hot, why don't you just take off the damn jacket?" Joel gruffly asks, his irritation evident in his tone.

You stay silent and shrug, avoiding eye contact as you try to walk away to the next station, hoping to distance yourself from him. But he grabs your wrist, causing you to yank it away in surprise. "Joel, what the hell?"

Joel's tone is sharp and accusatory, causing you to instinctively flinch. "You're being awfully quiet," he scoffs.

You meet his eyes, trying to hide the turmoil inside. "What?"

"Something's off with you. What aren't you telling me?" Joel steps closer, invading your personal space, and you instinctively take a step back.

Panic sets in as you desperately search for a way out. You can't tell him the truth, so you grit your teeth and force out a lie. "I'm just tired."

"You're lying." Joel's words cut through you like a knife, making your heart race and palms sweat. The intensity of his gaze makes it clear that he won't let this go easily.

You try to remain composed, forcing a small smile. "I'm just tired from working all day."

Joel narrows his eyes, clearly not buying your excuse. "Bullshit," he says bluntly.

You bite your lip, feeling the weight of the lie in the pit of your stomach. "I promise, it's nothing."

Joel takes a step closer, making you back up against the wall. Your heart races as you feel trapped under his intense stare. "I know when something's bothering you," he says softly, his tone filled with concern.

You look down at your feet, unable to meet his gaze any longer. You've been hiding this secret for so long that the thought of telling anyone, especially Joel, terrifies you.

"Please," Joel pleads, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. "Just talk to me."

"I have to go," you urgently declare, heart pounding as you turn and bolt away, ignoring Joel's desperate calls for you to stop.

Your heart races as you run through the dark, narrow alleys, trying to put as much distance between you and Joel as possible. The fear and adrenaline pumping through your veins drive you forward, but at the same time, your mind is racing with thoughts of guilt for leaving Joel behind.

"Why did I have to lie?" you think to yourself. "Why couldn't I just tell him the truth?"

But deep down, you know why. You know that if you were to tell anyone about the secret burdening you, it could cost both of your lives. And as much as it pains you to not tell Joel, there is no other choice.

The memories hit you like a tidal wave, pulling you back to that moment in time. But this time, it feels like you're watching from a distance, like a bystander in your own body.

"You can convince them. You always do." The words echo through your mind as Tess begs you and Joel for help. Tears stream down her face as she pleads, "You have to get her there. Keep her safe. Make things right." Joel shakes his head stubbornly, but Tess doesn't give up. "Please, Joel. Please say yes."

Everything feels surreal as you remember the infected pounding at the door, their screams like a constant reminder of what's at stake. And then Tess is gone, sacrificing herself with the rest of the infected to save the others.

Tess, your friend died that day.

But then everything shifts and you're in a different place, a house belonging to Bill and Frank. Ellie is reading a letter aloud, and you and Joel are there listening. "I used to hate the world," Ellie says, "but I was wrong. When I met my soulmate, there was one person worth saving. That’s why men like you and me are here. We have a job to do and God help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep…”

You remember Joel storming out of the house with the letter, his grief and pain palpable in every movement he makes. It's a bitter taste in both of your mouths, but it's also a reminder of why you keep fighting – because there are people worth protecting and worth saving.

Joel may not even realize it, but you've been waiting for him your entire life. And the same goes for Joel.

The scene changes once more; the deafening sound of gunshots pierces your ears and suddenly you're back in the hospital. You're behind Joel, gripping a rifle tightly as you navigate through the chaos and bodies scattered throughout the halls. 

Suddenly, you startle awake. Your heart races in your chest, and sweat trickles down your skin as you struggle to catch your breath.

You’re not out there. You’re in Jackson. You’re safe.

You briefly close your eyes, trying to shake off the lingering feelings of fear and loss from the dream. It had been two years since that fateful day in the hospital, and you were now living in Jackson with Joel and Ellie.

You gasped for breath and clutched your chest, trying to steady yourself with one hand on the softness of the sheets. You clambered out of bed and made your way to the bathroom, washing your hands and then your face. The cool water felt refreshing against your skin as you wiped it with a towel, trying to calm your nerves.

Taking a good look at yourself in the mirror, you saw the exhaustion written all over your face. The restlessness was evident in the dark circles under your eyes, and your hair was in a state of disarray.

"I look like I've been through hell," you muttered to yourself, sighing heavily.

You decided to take a shower, hoping it would help numb the pain. As the water cascaded over you, you let yourself sink into your thoughts, not really focusing on anything except the sound of water hitting your skin. Your bleary vision noticed the small cracks in the tiles on the wall.

Once you dried off and got dressed for the day, you headed downstairs to your small kitchen. The space had seen better days—cabinet doors hung slightly askew, and the pantry door refused to close all the way no matter how hard you tried.

You sighed, pushing the pantry door shut one more time before giving up and grabbing a mug from the chipped shelf. You poured yourself a cup of coffee, the bitter aroma filling the air as you took a tentative sip, savoring the warmth.

Later that morning, you stepped out of your little house in Jackson, pausing to take in the crisp air. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft golden light over the town. You noticed the creaky and loose steps of your porch under your feet, each step emitting a groan of protest. The railings wobbled as you gripped them for balance, making a mental note to add them to your growing list of things that needed fixing.

It was just about daybreak, the sun slowly peeking over the horizon, casting a golden glow. You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jeans, the cozy sweater you wore providing some comfort as you made your way to the stables.

You were part of the barn support staff on rotation and consistently helped out in the greenhouse. Sometimes, you were out on patrol, but today was a barn day.

As you cleaned the barn and took care of the horses, you unconsciously rolled up your sleeves, figuring no one else would be up this early. You were alone in the stables, or so you thought.

Lifting a hand to wipe the sweat from your brow, you sighed. Suddenly, you heard the sound of something dropping and a familiar voice exclaiming, "Holy shit!"

You whipped your head around to the source of the sound and saw Ellie standing there, her eyes wide as she stared directly at your wrist.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, hastily pulling your sleeve down.

Ellie took a step closer, her curiosity piqued. "Is that... a soulmate mark?"

You avoided her gaze, feeling exposed. "It's nothing, Ellie. Just... don't worry about it."

"Nothing?!" She looked incredulous. "You’ve been hiding it all this time. Why didn't you tell me?"

You sighed, the weight of your secret feeling heavier than ever. "It's complicated, Ellie. Joel... Joel doesn't know."

Ellie’s eyes widened even more. "Joel? As in... Joel?"

You nodded, unable to find the right words. The truth was out now, and there was no going back.

Ellie moved into your space, her curiosity getting the better of her. Without warning, she grabbed your wrist, yanking it towards her. Her eyes zeroed in on the birthdate etched into your skin, her face a mix of shock and realization.

"September 26, 1967," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze snapped up to meet yours, eyes wide. "That's Joel's birthday."

You tried to pull your wrist back, but Ellie held on tight, her grip firm and unyielding. "Ellie, please," you started, your voice shaky.

"Dude," she cut you off, her tone urgent and insistent. "You need to fucking tell him."

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "Ellie, it's not that simple," you began, but she shook her head, not letting you finish.

"Not that simple?" she repeated, incredulous. "You've got his birthday on your wrist. You're soulmates! How much more complicated can it be?"

Your shoulders slumped as you finally managed to free your wrist from her grip. You rubbed the tender skin, feeling exposed and vulnerable. "You don't understand," you said softly. "Joel... he's been through so much. And so have I. Telling him now, after all these years... it might just make things worse."

Ellie's expression softened, but she didn't back down. "You think keeping it a secret is any better? He deserves to know. You both do."

You turned away, unable to meet her eyes. "Joel... he's moved on, he doesn’t want anything to do with relationships, and I don’t want to disrupt that."

Ellie snorted, crossing her arms. "Moved on? Joel’s not exactly the moving on type. He carries everything with him, all the time. You think he doesn't feel something for you?"

You glanced back at her, tears welling up in your eyes. "And what if he doesn't? What if he sees this and... and it means nothing to him?"

Ellie sighed, stepping closer and placing a hand on your shoulder. "You'll never know if you don't try. And trust me, he’s stronger than you think. You both are."

Her words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, you just stood there, lost in thought. Finally, you nodded, a small, tentative movement. "I'll think about it," you whispered.

Ellie squeezed your shoulder gently before letting go. "Good. Because secrets have a way of coming out, one way or another. And it's better if it comes from you."

As she turned to leave, you stared down at the date on your wrist, the ink seeming to pulse with a life of its own. 

Maybe Ellie was right. Maybe it was time to stop hiding.

You sat alone on the bench in the food hall, picking at your meal and lost in your thoughts when a familiar drawl pulled you back to reality.

"Hey, darlin’."

The sound of Joel’s voice made your heart skip a beat, and a sudden warmth spread through your body. You nearly choked on your food, glancing up to see him settling next to you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Hi, Joel,” you sputtered, trying to regain your composure.

Joel chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Mind if I join you?”

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “No, not at all.”

He leaned back, his shoulder brushing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “How’s your day been?”

You shrugged, trying to appear casual. “Busy, as always. Barn duties and all that.”

Joel nodded, his gaze lingering on your face. “Yeah, I hear you’ve been workin’ hard. Always see you runnin’ around, takin’ care of things.”

A soft blush crept up your cheeks under his scrutiny. “Just trying to keep busy, you know? What about you?”

“Same old,” he replied, his voice low and soothing. “Patrols, repairs, keepin’ an eye on Ellie. She’s a handful.”

You laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. “She definitely keeps us on our toes.”

Joel’s eyes softened as he watched you, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. The bustling noise of the food hall became a distant hum, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

“You look tired,” he said gently, concern evident in his voice. “Everything alright?”

You hesitated, the weight of your secret pressing down on you. “Just… a lot on my mind lately.”

Joel reached out, his hand resting lightly on your arm. The touch was brief but sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes searched yours, concern evident. “You sure you’re alright?”

Your breath hitched at the back of your throat, but you forced a smile. “Mmm... yeah. Just going through a to-do list in my mind right now.”

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly, his gaze never leaving your face. “Anythin’ that needs fixin’, darlin’?”

You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just a few kitchen cabinets... the hinges squeak, and the pantry door doesn’t close all the way. Also a couple of loose steps and a wobbly railing too.

He nodded, his lips curling into a small smile. “Well, why don’t I take a look? Might be an easy fix.”

Your heart fluttered at the offer, a mix of gratitude and the thrill of being near him. “You don’t have to, Joel. I know you’re busy.”

Joel chuckled softly, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment longer before he let go. “I’ve always got time for you. Besides, can’t have you fightin’ with those cabinets every day.”

You laughed, the tension easing slightly. “Alright, if you insist.”

Joel’s eyes twinkled with a warm light. “I’ll swing by tomorrow mornin’, if that’s alright with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of spending more time with him. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’d appreciate the help.”

He gave a slow, easy smile that made your stomach flutter. “Great. I’ll bring my tools and we’ll get this place sorted.”

The way he said “we” filled you with a sense of comfort and belonging. “Thanks, Joel. It really means a lot.”

Joel stepped closer, his hand brushing against your arm in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “Anytime, darlin’. You know I’m here for you.”

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I know.”

His gaze held yours for a moment longer, the air thick with unspoken words and the electric tension between you. Finally, he took a step back, breaking the spell.

“I should get goin’,” he said, his voice a bit huskier than usual. “Gotta talk to Tommy ‘bout somethin’.”

“Right, of course,” you replied, feeling a pang of disappointment but also a thrill of anticipation for tomorrow.

Joel lingered by the table, a hand on your shoulder. “Take care, okay?”

“You too, Joel,” you said softly.

He nodded and turned to leave, but not before giving you one last, lingering look. You watched him walk away, your heart pounding and your mind racing with thoughts of what tomorrow might bring.

The next morning, you were up at dawn, nerves and excitement thrumming through you as you tidied up the kitchen. Each movement was deliberate, an attempt to keep your mind occupied. But no matter how much you tried to focus, you couldn’t help but glance at the clock every few minutes, your heart racing each time the hands inched closer to Joel’s promised arrival.

As you finished your second cup of coffee, the knock on the door startled you, sending a jolt through your already frazzled nerves. You took a deep breath to steady yourself and opened the door to find Joel standing there, a toolbox in one hand and a warm, familiar smile on his face.

“Good mornin’,” he greeted, stepping inside, his presence filling the room.

“Morning, Joel,” you replied, the rush of warmth at seeing him making your voice tremble slightly.

He set the toolbox down and looked around the kitchen with a critical eye. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealin’ with here.”

As Joel began inspecting the cabinets and pantry door, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. Every subtle flex of his muscles under his shirt drew your attention, and you found it hard to look away.

“Found the problem,” he said, pulling you from your thoughts. “Just needs a little tightening and some oil.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his words rather than the magnetic pull of his proximity. “I’m glad it’s an easy fix.”

Joel smiled, his eyes locking with yours, sending a spark of electricity through you. “Told you it wouldn’t be a problem.”

As he worked, you found yourself drawn to him, moving closer under the pretense of handing him tools or holding a flashlight. Each accidental brush of your hands sent a jolt through you, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. You felt your pulse quicken every time his fingers grazed yours.

“There,” Joel said finally, standing up and testing the now-silent hinges. “Good as new.”

You smiled, genuinely grateful and a little breathless from being so close to him. “Thank you, Joel. You’re a lifesaver.”

He chuckled, wiping his hands on a rag. “Just doin’ what I can.”

You both stood there for a moment, the kitchen suddenly feeling too small and too big all at once. The silence between you was heavy with everything you weren’t saying, a tension that seemed to thicken the air.

“Joel,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “I really appreciate this. More than you know.”

He looked at you, his expression softening in a way that made your heart ache. “I’m glad I could help. And I meant what I said yesterday—you don’t have to do everything alone.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you took a tentative step closer, the distance between you feeling like an unbearable chasm. “It’s hard to ask for help sometimes. But knowing you’re here... it makes a difference.”

Joel reached out, his fingers lightly grazing your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’ll always be here for you. Don’t ever doubt that.”

The intensity in his eyes made your breath catch. You felt drawn to him, the unspoken connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment. Without thinking, you closed the remaining distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest. 

His breath hitched as you moved closer, the air between you charged with a heady mix of anticipation and yearning. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between holding back and giving in. The warmth of his body so close to yours was intoxicating, and you felt your resolve weakening with each passing second.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but filled with all the longing you’d kept hidden for so long.

He swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving yours. “I—”

Just as the air between you thickened with unspoken words, a sudden, sharp knock on the door interrupted the moment. You both turned to see a young woman standing there, her eyes lighting up when she saw Joel.

“Hey, Joel!” she called out, her tone annoyingly bright. “I heard you were here and thought I’d bring over some coffee. Figured you could use a break.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, and you could feel the tension radiating off him. “Uh, thanks, Vanessa,” he replied, his voice strained. “But we’re kinda in the middle of something.”

Vanessa’s eyes flicked to you, her gaze turning cold. “Oh, I see. Well, maybe I could help?”

Before you could step away, Joel’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close. The unexpected gesture sent a shiver through you, and you looked up at him, your heart pounding.

“We’re busy, Vanessa,” Joel said firmly, his hand resting possessively on your hip. “Thanks for the offer, but we’ve got it covered.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in obvious jealousy. “Right. Well, if you change your mind...” She trailed off, her eyes lingering on you with a mixture of disdain and envy before she finally turned and walked away.

As soon as she was out of earshot, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Joel’s grip on your waist loosened, but he didn’t let go. His eyes met yours, the intensity in them making your pulse race.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, his voice low. “Didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “It’s okay. I appreciate the backup.”

Joel chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against your side in a way that sent tingles down your spine. “Guess we should get back to work, huh?”

You nodded, reluctantly stepping back, though his touch lingered in your mind. “Yeah, the step and railing on the porch still need fixing.”

Together, you moved outside, the tension from earlier still simmering between you. As Joel inspected the loose step, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. The way his hands moved with such confidence and skill, the way his brow furrowed in concentration—it all captivated you.

“Can you hold this steady for me?” he asked, his voice pulling you from your thoughts.

You nodded, stepping closer to help. Your hands brushed against his as you held the wood in place, and the contact sent a jolt through you. The proximity, the shared task, the quiet intimacy of the moment—it all felt like a dance, each movement charged with unspoken feelings.

“Almost got it,” Joel murmured, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and it took all your willpower not to lean into him.

Finally, he tightened the last screw and tested the step, making sure it was secure. “There. That should do it.”

You smiled, genuinely grateful and more than a little breathless. “Thank you, Joel. You’re a lifesaver.”

He looked at you, his eyes softening. “Just doin’ what I can.”

As you both stood there on the porch, the morning sun casting a golden glow around you, the world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you. Everything you wanted to say but didn't wash over you in the awkward stillness, and the feelings you shared were nearly visible.

The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the landscape as you and your patrol partner, Mark, scouted the perimeter. He was easy-going, always ready with a joke or a reassuring word. You found his presence comforting, a steady rock amidst the chaos.

“Think we’ll find anything today?” you asked, keeping your voice low.

Mark grinned, his eyes scanning the horizon. “Nah, it’s been quiet for a while now. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

Just as the words left his mouth, a shot rang out. The next few moments were a blur of chaos and violence. Raiders, hidden in the underbrush, launched their attack. Mark managed to shoot one off you, his quick reflexes saving your life. But then, he was hit, and you watched in horror as he crumpled to the ground.

“Mark!” you screamed, dropping to your knees beside him. Blood poured from a wound in his chest, and his breaths came in ragged gasps. You pressed your hands against the wound, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood. “Stay with me, Mark. Please, stay with me.”

But his eyes glazed over, the light fading. You choked back a sob, fury and grief surging through you as the raiders closed in. You fought with every ounce of strength you had, slashing and stabbing, your vision blurred by tears and the pouring rain that had begun to fall. Blood and dirt smeared your face, and pain lanced through your body from multiple wounds.

The storm roared with fury, whipping the trees and lashing the ground with torrents of rain. You stumbled through the churning chaos, your clothes drenched and clinging to your skin, your muscles burning from the effort of pushing forward. Your vision blurred by the onslaught, you fought to keep moving, each step a battle against the ferocious elements. In that moment, all that mattered was survival - staying alive until the tempest passed.

It had been hours since Joel last saw them. His graying hair was in danger of being pulled out in frustration. You and Mark were supposed to be back by now. The patrol route you both took was supposed to be a shorter one.

Joel paced back and forth in the settlement, struggling to contain his anger. “Why the hell can’t I go out there, Tommy? She’s my partner, my—” He cut himself off, frustration and fear etched into his features.

Tommy placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice firm. “You’re too close to this, Joel. You need to stay here. I’ll find her.”

Hours dragged by, each minute an eternity. Joel’s rage simmered, his helplessness gnawing at him. He punched the wall, his knuckles splitting, but the pain was nothing compared to the fear of losing you.

Tommy had taken a small team out to search for you and Mark, but there was still no word. The storm raged on, making it even harder to find any trace of you.

Joel’s mind raced with possibilities – had you and Mark been ambushed? Taken by the raiders? Injured and unable to make it back? His heart clenched at the thought of you hurt or worse.

He cursed himself for not going out with you both, for letting his emotions cloud his judgement. He knew better than anyone that in this world, you couldn’t afford to let your guard down. But he had let himself become complacent, too focused on protecting you rather than seeing things clearly.

Bile rises in Joel's throat, the taste of fear and worry leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He swallows hard, trying to push the feeling down as he anxiously waits for any news.

The bitter taste of regret and fear lingered on Joel’s tongue, each thought of what could happen to you making his stomach turn.

The metallic taste of blood was thick on Joel's tongue as he bit down on his lip, trying to hold back his emotions. The rancid taste of fear and worry lingered in his mouth, coating his throat and making it hard to swallow.

Meanwhile, Tommy pushed through the storm, his eyes straining to pierce the darkness. The wind howled around him, carrying with it the distant echoes of thunder. He called out your name, his voice barely audible above the roar of the tempest. His heart pounded with a mixture of fear and determination, each step sinking into the mud as he trudged forward.

The rain came down in sheets, making it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. Lightning flashed, illuminating the twisted branches and slick ground for brief moments. He stumbled over fallen logs and through thick underbrush, the storm making every movement a struggle.

Tommy's eyes darted around, searching desperately. He felt a gnawing dread in the pit of his stomach, a fear that he was too late. Then, in the distance, he saw a figure lying still. His breath caught in his throat as he hurried over, praying that it wasn't you.

As he got closer, he recognized the bodies of the raiders, their lifeless forms sprawled across the muddy ground. The sight was gruesome, the aftermath of a brutal fight. His heart sank when he saw Mark, his friend and comrade, lying motionless with a fatal wound. He forced himself to look away, his focus now solely on finding you.

Finally, his eyes landed on you, crumpled and barely breathing. His heart pounded in his chest as he knelt beside you. Blood soaked your clothes, mingling with the dirt and rain, creating a grim tapestry that told the story of your fierce struggle.

“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Tommy murmured, his voice trembling with urgency and concern. He gently lifted your head, cradling you in his arms. You stirred slightly, your eyelids fluttering open to reveal dazed, pain-filled eyes.

“Joel?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm. The confusion and pain in your gaze made Tommy’s heart clench.

Tommy’s eyes widened as he saw the mark on your wrist, illuminated by a flash of lightning. It was the same date he had seen on Joel’s wrist—the same mark. Realization hit him like a freight train, the pieces falling into place with a sudden clarity. “It’s Tommy,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve got you. Just hold on.”

But you had already slipped back into unconsciousness, your body limp in his arms. Tommy’s heart raced as he gently but urgently lifted you, securing you on his horse. He mounted behind you, holding you close to keep you steady, and spurred the horse into a gallop.

The ride back was a blur of rain and darkness, each second stretching into an eternity. The storm seemed to rage even harder, the wind whipping through the trees and the rain stinging like needles. Tommy’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, fear for your life mingling with the shocking revelation of your connection to Joel.

By the time Tommy reached the settlement, his clothes were soaked through, clinging to his skin like a second, frigid layer. Every muscle in his body ached from the grueling ride and the weight of your unconscious form. The rain had not let up, and his vision was blurred by the relentless downpour. But he didn't stop, carrying you swiftly yet carefully towards the infirmary, each step a struggle against exhaustion and worry.

Joel was just by the large gate of Jackson, pacing anxiously. The moment he saw Tommy approaching with your limp body, his heart seemed to stop. His face, already drawn with worry, twisted into an expression of sheer desperation.

“Is she okay?” Joel asked frantically, his voice cracking. His eyes were wide, darting between Tommy and your pale face for any sign of hope.

“She’s alive,” Tommy said, his voice steady but laced with urgency. He handed you over to the medics who were rushing to meet them. Joel instinctively moved to follow, but Tommy grabbed his arm, his grip firm and unyielding.

“Joel, wait. Look at her wrist,” Tommy urged, his voice low but insistent.

Joel’s eyes followed Tommy's gaze, landing on the mark on your wrist. Recognition hit him like a punch to the gut, the date etched into your skin unmistakable. It was the same as his. Realization dawned with a mixture of awe and dread. “Fuck,” he breathed, the weight of it crashing over him. The one person he couldn’t afford to lose was you, and now he knew why.

The medics were quick, their movements efficient as they assessed your injuries and began to prepare you for treatment. They lifted you onto a stretcher, intent on rushing you inside where they could better tend to your wounds. Joel moved to follow, his protective instincts kicking in, but the medics tried to hold him back.

“Sir, you need to let us do our job,” one of them said, a young woman with a firm but gentle voice.

“No,” Joel growled, his eyes blazing with determination and fear. “I ain’t leavin’ her side.”

Tommy stepped in, trying to reason with him. “Joel, you gotta let the doctors work.”

Joel’s fists clenched at his sides, his whole body trembling with the effort to contain his emotions. “I can’t… I can’t lose her, Tommy,” he choked out, his voice raw with pain and anger.

“I know, but you stayin’ in there won’t help her. You’ll only be in the way,” Tommy said, his tone gentle but firm. He placed a reassuring hand on Joel’s shoulder, trying to ground him. “You’ve gotta trust them to do their job. Let them help her.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, his eyes locked on the door to the infirmary where they had taken you. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to be by your side, to make sure you were safe. But he knew Tommy was right. With a heavy, reluctant nod, he allowed himself to be led away, his heart aching with every step.

The minutes stretched into an eternity as they waited. Joel paced back and forth, his mind racing with worry. He could still see the image of you, broken and bloodied, every time he closed his eyes. The mark on your wrist haunted him, a constant reminder of the bond that tied you together. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he couldn't bear to lose you.

Tommy stood by, watching his brother with a mixture of sympathy and concern. He knew how much you meant to Joel, and the revelation of the soulmate mark only intensified that bond. He wished there was something more he could do, some way to ease Joel’s pain.

Finally, a medic emerged from the infirmary, her expression tired but relieved. “She’s stable,” she announced, and Joel felt a weight lift off his shoulders. “She’s got a long road to recovery, but she’s a fighter.”

Joel nodded, his eyes filled with gratitude and determination. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He would stay by your side, no matter what. The bond you shared was too precious to ever let go.

Days blurred into a haze of sterile white walls and the rhythmic beeping of machines. You drifted in and out of consciousness, each time greeted by the comforting sounds of Joel and Ellie. Joel's low, soothing voice often filled the room, whether he was talking to you or humming a soft tune. Ellie would sit by your bed, recounting stories with her usual animated flair, her voice a bright spot in the darkness.

One evening, as the storm outside mirrored the chaos within, you stirred slightly. The weight of Joel's hand on your wrist was a grounding force, his presence unwavering. He looked exhausted, his eyes heavy with worry, but he never left your side.

In one of your more lucid moments, you caught snippets of Joel's soft singing, the melody wrapping around you like a warm blanket. His voice was a balm, a tether to the world you were trying so hard to rejoin. He would often lean down to press gentle kisses to your forehead, his touch both a promise and a plea for you to come back to him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you awoke fully. Your throat was dry, and every muscle ached, but you were aware. The weight on your wrist brought your gaze to Joel. He was slumped in a chair beside your bed, his head resting on the edge, fast asleep. He looked worn out, dark circles under his eyes and a shadow of stubble on his jaw.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering open as if sensing your gaze.

“I...” Your voice came out as a croak, and you winced.

“Here, drink up,” Joel said, quickly pouring a glass of water and holding it to your lips. You drank greedily, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat.

After a few sips of water, you managed to find your voice again. “How long have I been out?” you asked, your throat feeling slightly raw from disuse.

“Almost a week,” Joel replied, his eyes never leaving yours.

“A week?” you repeated in shock. It felt like only a few hours had passed.

Joel nodded, his hand gently caressing your cheek. “You were pretty out of it for a while there.”

You felt a pang of guilt for causing so much worry and trouble for everyone. “I’m sorry,” you said softly.

“Don’t be sorry,” Joel said firmly, his eyes filled with intensity. “Just focus on getting better.”

“I will,” you promised, grateful for his unwavering support.

The relief on Joel’s face was palpable, but as he set the glass aside, a flicker of anger flashed in his eyes. “Were you ever going to tell me?” His voice was quiet, but the intensity of his gaze was almost too much to bear.

You looked away, shame burning your cheeks. “Trust me, I know. It's always about me.”

Joel's jaw clenched. “I just… I didn’t think you could ever want me.” Your voice broke, the years of hiding and pretending catching up to you.

Joel’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek. “You’ve always been more than I deserve,” he murmured. “I just wish you’d told me.”

Tears filled your eyes, and you struggled to breathe. “I love you…” you choked out, the words finally escaping your lips after years of being held back. “I’m sorry.”

Joel pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you sobbed. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

In the midst of life's storms, a quiet calm settled around you both, like discovering an oasis in the desert. Amidst chaos and pain, you found your soulmate, and love emerged as the unwavering light guiding you through the darkest nights.

[queerfables]

I wanted this post to be more coherent but I am coming apart at the seams. Listen. Listen to me. Listen look no look me in the eyes and listen LISTEN.

Crowley and Aziraphale know. They're in love, and they know. Their love is requited, and they know. That's why it hurts so much! They don't say it. They can't say it. The consequences for both of them could be disastrous. But they know, they know, they know.

This is forbidden love at it's absolute pinnacle. This is centuries of dancing around an unsayable, inescapable truth. Loving someone this way is intense. It's a fiercely romantic headrush, because everything is high stakes fantasy and it's you and your beloved against the world. It's a soul crushing nightmare because the thing you want more than anything is always there, just out of reach. It's passion and yearning and stolen touches and desperately hoping the other person understands all the things you can't say.

It's also just unbelievably stupid. You have a sizzling moment of intimacy with someone and then three days later you're trying to act like business associates.

This dynamic has been present since season one, and sometimes the atmosphere between Crowley and Aziraphale becomes urgent and surreal enough that they almost name it. There's the bandstand, where Crowley suggests they could run away together. There's Aziraphale in 1967 saying, maybe one day we'll dine at the Ritz. These aren't the words of those unsure of another's feelings. These are declarations made in the clearest terms they dare.

The clincher for me is Aziraphale's face when Shax says she wouldn't have thought he was Crowley's type. It's a nasty comment meant to play on Aziraphale's insecurities: "If you're anything to him, it must be something sordid, and I'm surprised you can even offer him that." And she completely misses the mark! Aziraphale disregards her words without a thought. That eyebrow says he knows exactly how Crowley feels about him, and Shax's insinuation is laughable. He is uniquely Crowley's type.

It's less definitive for Crowley, and it makes sense that it would be. For the most part, Crowley is the accelerator and Aziraphale is the brakes. It is hard to hold faith that someone wants you when all they can tell you is "slow down". That doesn't mean he's unsure of Aziraphale's feelings. It means that he's unsure how much he's allowed to say. Aziraphale wants him to push right up until he doesn't, and it hurts them both when they go too far and have to walk it back. Even so, Crowley's confession makes it pretty clear that they're both in on this unspoken thing between them:

"you and me ... group of the two of us ... and we've spent our existence pretending that we aren't"

And then he kisses Aziraphale. And he doesn't do it carefully or tentatively. He doesn't wait for Aziraphale to be ready. Because that's how this dance goes, isn't it? Aziraphale wants him to push, and it's going to hurt and they're going to have to walk it back but fuck it all because Crowley is going to give them the thing they've spent their existence pretending they didn't want.

[phoukanamedpookie]

I can see why so many Ashkenazim resist being labeled as white.

Europe circa 1000-1945 CE: The Hebrews infesting our land are Oriental interlopers and always will be, so they should go back to the Middle East where they came from! Ashkenazim: But... we've been here for so long. We're good citizens. We contribute to the economy and culture... Europe: Bless your heart. Here, have a pogrom. You know what? Have another pogrom. As a matter of fact, I'm feeling generous. All the Jews get pogroms! You get a pogrom! And you get a pogrom! And you get a pogrom! Ashkenazim: (groan) Europe: There's a special prize under your seat. Look and see what it is! Tell everybody what it is. Ashkenazim: (sigh) An expulsion. Again. Europe circa 1967: Hey, Jews? How are ya? We've been thinking... since Israel's been doing such a good job helping us out by bombing our Arab enemies so that we don't have to do it, you get to be white like us! Isn't that nice? Ashkenazim: You've got to be kidding me. Europe: Is this about the Holocaust? Are you still sore about that? Look, we're sorry, OK? Ashkenazim: It wasn't just the Holocaust. It was all the stuff leading up to — Europe: Jeez! You people are always holding grudges. You need to let it go.

[forsworned]

I just got a great idea. Imagine the teenage dirt bag trend with 141, where reader is chill and laid back, and as 141 and reader are in the break room, gaz or soap ask reader about her life before the military and she just goes to her office to get some photos of her and her friends in their teens, smoking weed and in some she has some sick piercings and a skater, or maybe even a motorcycle. I don't even know. I'm just rambling. You can write it if you want but if you don't want to then feel free to ignore me 🫶🏼🙆🏻‍♀️

author's note: and a great idea you have indeed :) i gotchuuu and im so sorry this took me forever to get to

tags: poly 141 antics, cheeky banter, and a lil flirting with the boys ;)

Breakfast is a fan favorite amongst the 141, especially when it involves the sweet and savory aroma of coffee, pancakes, eggs, and your famous potato hash—a dish that's practically a cult fave within the team. As you settle in your seat between Johnny and Kyle with your coffee mug in your hand, the group is chatting about their former glory days before they joined the military.

Johnny nudges you with a playful smirk, still noshing on a piece of toast. "So, hen, ye look like ye had a bit of a wild streak back in the day, aye? Bet ye were a right wee devil." His tone is teasing, laced with curiosity as his cerulean gaze lingers on you.

You roll your eyes at him, but before you can respond, Kyle chimes in, his tone equally teasing, "Yeah, you look like the type who got up to all sorts of dodgy stuff. Proper troublemaker, I reckon. C'mon love, spill the beans." He nudges with a grin.

Price looks over his newspaper at double trouble across the table, before turning the page, causing you to chuckle. "Well," you fish out your phone from your pocket and everyone leans forward in their seats as you scroll through your camera roll. You stop at an album and tap on it before rotating the screen to face them and they can't help the excited noises that leave their mouths.

"No way!" Johnny exclaims, his grin widens as he spots a photo of you leaning against a cherry red muscle car. "Is that a 1967 Chevrolet Camaro!?" Kyle chirps, taking your phone from you and you laugh at their reactions. That gets Price's attention and he leans over to get a gander of the rebellious glint in your eye and the streaks of red fashioned into your hair.

"Christ," He beams down at the photo and then up at you. "looks like you were quite the rebel, eh? No wonder these two pillocks won't stop botherin' ya."

Kyle lets out a whistle as he swipes to the next photo, showcasing you with a cigarette hanging between your lips, clad in a skimpy bikini, leaning against your palms on a beach on a sunlit beach with the sunset casting a tangerine glow. "Cheeky."

Johnny's eyes ream at the photo, taking you in your exposed form. "Aye, look at ye!" His cheeks flush as he tilts his head, peeking up at you. "I gotta give it ya, lassie, yer quite the stunner."

"And still are." Price adds, raising his eyebrows at you. You fluster at his kind words, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Thank you,"

"Oi! Look at this one!" Johnny points to the screen again, having a good laugh. You lean into Kyle and giggle at the photo. Grin as wide as your face with an alligator's jaw clamped shut between your hands. "That cannot be real!"

"It's really not as wild as it looks. I was on vacation in Florida, and a local wildlife park had this little show where they let you hold and pose with a baby alligator. They made sure everything was safe and supervised. Super fun."

Price cocks an amused brow at you, sipping his coffee. "Baby alligator, eh? You're quite the thrill seeker."

"Yeahhh, not much has changed." Kyle ribs and the others laugh. It's true though. You were actively pursuing that adrenaline rush, so it didn't come as much of a surprise to them, especially not Simon.

As the laughter dies down, Simon, who was quietly enjoying his tea and observing the situation unfold finally speaks up, "You lot are gettin' too chuffed over this, but I gotta admit..." He leans back, his dark eyes fixate on you and you can't help but take notice of how his mask is scrunched up under his nose, revealing the pale pink of his lips. "Never quite pegged you for a lil rascal. Bet you gave your folks a right headache."

He prods the phone out of Johnny's hand and takes a look at the other photos they were scrolling through and softly snorting at what looks like an image of you on stage, strumming at a guitar and singing your heart out. "But I reckon that's what makes you fit in so will with these bunch of nutters." His lips quirk into a faint smile as he hands you back your phone and goes back to munching on his eggs. "Ain't it always the quiet ones you gotta watch out for?"

Your cheeks blossom with warmth at his comment and the cute little smile that adorns his handsome face. "Well, I didn't think I was all that quiet." You poke your tongue in your cheek, gently prying the phone out of his hands.

His finger seems to biff at your screen as it clatters out of your grasp because his onyx eyes widen at the photo. Skin exposed, revealing the ink that embellishes your lower left hip in delicate, intricate patterns as you're posing sexy for the camera. Your heart plunges to your ass at the realization of it not being in your hidden album.

"Oh—that's, uhhh" You stammer swiftly, locking your phone and shoving it back into your pocket. Your tongue swipes at your lips as you avert your gaze, but Simon takes note of how you nervously twiddle with the spoon as it clatters against the walls of your mug.

Simon's eyes linger on you for a moment longer before he returns to his tea, "well, well, well..."

The rest of the team is still buzzing with the excitement of your heydays as they detect the slight change in atmosphere.

"Oi, what's all of this about, then?" Johnny asks with a mouth full of food. "Give us the scoop!"

But the Scotsman is getting scolded by Price and Kyle for not keeping his mouth shut while he eats. A sheepish smile adorns his lips, rubbing the back of his neck as he apologizes. Simon chuckles, and shakes his head, "Nothin' worth spillin', Johnny. Just a bit of a laugh."

Of course that earns some groans from them, but you can't help but bite your bottom lip and grin when Simon gives you a knowing look. Some secrets are best kept between friends.

masterlist

[queenofthearchipelago]

I know everyone's saying that come season 3 we'll have a kiss in 1941, but I'm still on the side of them having an almost kiss in 1941. It's probably because I love pain but imagine them after they get rid of the Nazi zombies for good, saving each other's lives in the process, they're in the bookshop talking as they usually do. Imagine the hour growing late, Crowley standing from his place on the couch to leave. Aziraphale walks him to the door, and there's just this moment that passes between them. Crowley's hand on the doorknob, and they aren't saying anything, but this time, they don't have to. I don't want to leave but I have to. Thank you for saving my life. I'm so relieved I was able to save yours. If anything happened to you, I'd... and they're just right there. So close. The last time an angel and a demon were this close to each other, it was in battle. But not here, not in this bookshop. Not with this angel and this demon. There's something else here. One day, when they have the freedom to allow themselves the thought, they'll call it love. But today... Aziraphale steps away.

"Why not?" Crowley whispers.

Aziraphale shakes his head at the ground, before looking back up into the curious, desperate, beautiful yellow eyes hidden behind Crowley's glasses.

"I can't," Aziraphale whispers back, something desperate painting itself deep in his eyes.

Crowley nods, reaching behind him for his hat hanging on the hat stand and placing it low on his head. Turning the doorknob, he gives Aziraphale a small bow and leaves.

It won't be until 1967 that Aziraphale finally finds the strength and the words to truly answer Crowley's question.

"You go too fast for me, Crowley."

[hollowed-theory-hall]

what's the one harry potter pairing u like that u mentioned in the tags of your hinny post?

Anonymous: Can I ask who that minor character you ship with Harry is? For some absurd reason my mind jumped to Stan Shunpike lol but it's probably not him.... Or is it?

Okay, so this is kind of a funny story. Like, my pipeline through hp pairings was a weird one. Like, I used to read a lot of Harry pairings, still do on occasion (some make more sense than others). None of them were ones I would point at and say: "that should've happened in the books"

One day, I was innocently writing a fic (canon divergence of GoF), and it was just for me, for funnsies, never posted it anywhere and not planning to. And I planned to pair Harry with someone there (honestly, I don't remember who because I didn't write the plan down) but when writing, Harry ended up with a different character. And it was so strange to me because that never happened.

Like, how do you write a ship accidentally?

But I did. I wrote Harry into a ship by accident. So I went back to the books to try and figure out why the hell would my subconscious decide that's the way to go.

I'll also preface it by all this being my subjective opinion and I do read other Harry ships in fics, this one just quickly became my favorite to write (and the only one I write). Also, I don't actually think this is a pairing that should've happened in the books, it's place is in fic and that's where I like it.

So, the character I accidentally shipped with Harry is... *drumroll*

Stan Shunpike!

Not really, it's:

Theodore Nott

Now, you might look at the name and go: "Who the fuck is that?"

And you'll be correct. Theo has 0 speaking lines in the entire book series. His name appears twice. He, himself, as a person, only appeared on page, like, 3 times in the background. The scene that gives the most information about him is other characters talking about him. He isn't even present.

That being said, I'm very good at extrapolating a lot of information from very little evidence. So allow me, to walk you through who is Theodore Nott and why I ship him with Harry.

Basic Information

So, let's start with the most basic overview before I pull out the quotes and go any deeper.

We know Theo is a Slytherin student in Harry's year. So he likely shares a dorm with Draco, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle.

Theo's father is both at the graveyard at the end of GoF and in the Department of Mysteries at the end of OotP, so we know he is a Death Eater. We also know Thoe's father was one of the first and closest Death Eaters to Voldemort, who waited for him during his interview with Dumbledore in 1967:

“Then if I were to go to the Hog’s Head tonight, I would not find a group of them — Nott, Rosier, Mulciber, Dolohov — awaiting your return? Devoted friends indeed...”

(HBP, page 444)

We also know the Nott family is "as pure-blooded as the Malfoys" according to JKR in an interview. We also know Theo's great-grandfather (maybe? the family relation isn't clear), Cantankerus Nott, is suspected to be the one who wrote the Pure-Blood Dictionary, the book that coined the term "Sacred 28" and made that list (which the Nott family are on).

The name Nott is potentially to be derived from the name Nótt, which is the personification of the night in Norse Mythology. So it has been theorized the Nott family have a Nordic origin. Possible, but it doesn't really matter for this post.

Edit: Correction regarding the surname "Nott". It is either a later anglicized form of the name Cnut (considered most likely), which originates from a old given danish name, known as the name of a pretty famous old Danish king who ruled a portion of England in the Early Middle Ages or it originates from the Old English word "Knot", and refers to someone who lived on a hill. The name "Cnut" (older spelling of the name"Nott") can be found in the Doomsday Book (survey of England's gentry from 1086) as owning lands before and after the Norman conquest (different family members and different lands in the before and after), suggesting the Nott family have either old Danish or Anglo-Saxon oigins and predate the Normans, making them one of the older wizarding families in the UK. But again, all this doesn't really matter for this post.

What does, is that he comes from a dark, Death Eater, blood-purist family similar to the Malfoys. Even so, Theo never took the Dark Mark and never joined Voldemort in the books.

Now, that we have the basic information out of the way, let's look at Theodore as a person.

All the details I could gather from the books

Alright, now we get to the fun part. That is, me going through all the relevant scenes that mention Theodore Nott and actually creating a character psychoanalysis out of basically nothing.

So, the quotes aren't organized in a particular order. I'm just going to explain Theo and then explain why all this makes me ship him with Harry.

“Well, I pity Slughorn’s taste. Maybe he’s going a bit senile. Shame, my father always said he was a good wizard in his day. My father used to be a bit of a favorite of his. Slughorn probably hasn’t heard I’m on the train, or —” “I wouldn’t bank on an invitation,” said Zabini. “He asked me about Nott’s father when I first arrived. They used to be old friends, apparently, but when he heard he’d been caught at the Ministry he didn’t look happy, and Nott didn’t get an invitation, did he? I don’t think Slughorn’s interested in Death Eaters.” Malfoy looked angry, but forced out a singularly humorless laugh.

(HBP, page 150)

This is a part of the conversation between Draco, Pansy, and Blaise, Harry overhears when he is hiding in their compartment at the beginning of HBP. I have a few things to note regarding this scene.

Firstly, throughout this conversation, Pansy, Blaise, and Draco all call each other by their first name. This shows closeness, they are all friendly and familiar enough to use their first names with each other. Theo, though, is referred to as "Nott" by all three in the compartment.

He doesn't actually sit in their compartment which is in itself a sign about how he isn't really friendly with Draco's group. Considering the group is most of his year from his house, Theo is likely very lonely, and it will be apparent from other scenes I bring up later.

Secondly, Theo's father is in Azkaban. We know Draco is bothered about his own father's predicament. He mentions it to Harry and bothers him over it, Theo doesn't though. Theo doesn't seem to be bothered by Harry or his father's incarceration.

The only conclusion I can draw from this is that the relationship between Theo and his father is not a good one.

(I know some fics like to have Lucius be abusive towards Draco, for some reason. But the books really don't back this up. Lucius loves Draco and Draco adores his father)

Theo, though, Theo seems to be the one with a very strained relationship with his father. Strained enough that he isn't bothered the man is in Azkaban. What I'm saying is that Theo's father likely abuses or mistreats him in some capacity.

If anything more was needed to complete Harry’s happiness, it was Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle’s reactions. He saw them with their heads together later that afternoon in the library, together with a weedy-looking boy Hermione whispered was called Theodore Nott. They looked around at Harry as he browsed the shelves for the book he needed on Partial Vanishment, and Goyle cracked his knuckles threateningly and Malfoy whispered something undoubtedly malevolent to Crabbe. Harry knew perfectly well why they were acting like this: He had named all of their fathers as Death Eaters

(OotP, page 583)

This is a scene at the end of OotP after Draco, Crabbe, Goyle and Theo's fathers were caught at the ministry and sent to Azkaban because they are Death Eaters. There are a few important notes about this scene.

The first, Hermione knows Theo, while Harry and Ron don't really. This means she likely knows him from the classes she takes and Harry and Ron don't — Arithmancy and/or Ancient Runes.

The second, he is sitting with other Death Eater children, but I don't think it's by choice. I mentioned in the previous quote how he isn't close to Draco and his crew. He sits with them here mostly because he doesn't have another choice. Theo doesn't seem to really have any friends, so he sits with the closest people he has to friends — kids he has known since he was young because their fathers were in the same circle.

The other note about this is that Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco are all mentioned as being threatening and malicious towards Harry because they don't like that their fathers are in Azkaban. Theo, though, Theo doesn't threaten Harry, he isn't part of their whisperings. As I mentioned above, he's likely happy his father is in Azkaban.

A pair of blank, white, shining eyes were growing larger through the gloom and a moment later the dragonish face, neck, and then skeletal body of a great, black, winged horse emerged from the darkness. It looked around at the class for a few seconds, swishing its long black tail, then bowed its head and began to tear flesh from the dead cow with its pointed fangs. A great wave of relief broke over Harry. Here at last was proof that he had not imagined these creatures, that they were real: Hagrid knew about them too. He looked eagerly at Ron, but Ron was still staring around into the trees and after a few seconds he whispered, “Why doesn’t Hagrid call again?” Most of the rest of the class were wearing expressions as confused and nervously expectant as Ron’s and were still gazing everywhere but at the horse standing feet from them. There were only two other people who seemed to be able to see them: a stringy Slytherin boy standing just behind Goyle was watching the horse eating with an expression of great distaste on his face, and Neville, whose eyes were following the swishing progress of the long black tail.

(OotP, page 445)

“The only people who can see thestrals,” she said, “are people who have seen death.”

(OotP, page 446)

The stringy Slytherin boy mentioned here is Theo. This scene proves that:

He takes Care of Magical Creatures

He saw someone die

Let's explore the second one for a moment. The fact Theo can see Thestrals means he watched someone die and was old enough to comprehend what he was seeing. We also know Theo's mother is dead. So it's likely the person he watched die was his mother.

I also want to draw attention to Theo's distaste towards Thestrals. He could likely see them carrying the carriages every year since 2nd year, it's not his first time seeing them. But it doesn't stop his displeasure with their sight from showing. Which says something about him. It means he likely recalls his mother and her death whenever he looks at the Thestrals. and these are memories Theo rather not experience.

We don't know how his mother died, but I'd hazard a guess it wasn't natural. After all, wizards have long life spans, they are more durable to illness and injury, and don't usually die from accidents unless very extreme or magical. And there was no epidemic of dragonpox (a disease that does tend to kill wizards) in the time since 1980 and the books. So, she was more likely killed at some point between 1985(ish) and 1991.

“No, I don’t think so, sir. I’m Muggle-born, you see.” Harry saw Malfoy lean close to Nott and whisper something; both of them sniggered, but Slughorn showed no dismay; on the contrary, he beamed and looked from Hermione to Harry, who was sitting next to her.

(HBP, pages 185-186)

First, Theo is an O student in potions since he is in the potions NEWT class, and was probably meant to be there even if Snape was the teacher.

Second, again, Theo doesn't really have friends. He sits next to Draco as the only other Slytherin in the class. Also, they share the circumstances of being sons of Death Eaters currently in Azkaban. Although both of them seem to deal with it quite differently.

Third, Theo joins Draco in making fun of Hermione's blood status, but he does not initiate it. Considering the environment he was raised in and is in, it makes sense he would make fun of it. Whether he's a blood-purist or not, he would want to keep his image considering he doesn't have many allies. Hanging out with Draco is survival, not friendship. They aren't even on a first-name basis with each other.

“Amortentia doesn’t really create love, of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room — oh yes,” he said, nodding gravely at Malfoy and Nott, both of whom were smirking skeptically. “When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love. . . .

(HBP, page 186)

The final quote I have about Theo is from the same potions class as above. Both he and Draco are portrayed here as underestimating amortentia and its potential damage. It makes sense for their upbringing in the Wizarding World, which has no real laws or regulations regarding love potions that are seen as harmless fun more often than not.

I'll add Theo likely didn't witness a healthy romantic relationship. Considering his father is a Death Eater who is likely abusive and may or may not have killed his mother. With this as his reference to a marriage, it's clear why he'd look down on love and love potions.

Why I think Theo and Harry have potential

Okay, so now that we know who Theodore Nott is, let's talk about why I ship him with Harry.

I think Harry, in general, would get along best with a clever partner with the ability to be ruthless (Slytherins or Ron fall into this category). Because Harry isn't some golden savior; he casts unforgivables, and is very willing to poison Umbridge or Crocio Snape if he could get away with it. He needs a partner that won't be horrified by these thoughts.

Also, Theo literally never speaks on page. Even when spoken to, his reactions are silent. I think this quiet and no need to talk, the ability to be comfortable in silence, is something that would be comfortable for Harry. Harry in the books finds himself annoyed with Ron and Hermione's constant banter on occasion, so I think it fits well.

Theo would also be comfortable around Harry without a need to play a certain part. Because Harry wouldn't care about that. He would honestly rather Theo forgo the pure-blood Slytherin act.

I feel like Harry and Theo, have a good potential to understand each other. Theo lost his mother and likely experiences abuse from his father. It makes them very likely to trauma bond over their crap life and shared experience. Two out of three only ones who could see the Thestrals in the entire class.

The other thing I feel they could connect over is being lonely. Harry spent all his childhood until Hogwarts basically being on his own. Theo stayed on his own. Draco at least has his parents, he has other students he's closer to, not that he shares everything with them, but he has some support network. Theo has none. And this is something Harry knows well.

Theo, I think, wouldn't expect anything specific from Harry. He doesn't even interact with him, not to mock him, and not to idolize him, he doesn't care at all. And we know how much Harry appreciates being thought of as Harry and not as the Boy-Who-Lived. Theo would allow Harry to be himself without some mold he wants him to fit in.

The fact Theo never becomes a Death Eater, even though he was in Draco's year and his father was a Death Eater before Lucius (and in better standing than Lucius with Voldemort) is so interesting. It's somewhat surprising Theo wasn't marked. It means he didn't want to be. It means that Theo Nott didn't want to torture and kill muggleborns or blood traitors, or anyone really. And he didn't want to swear his allegiance to Voldemort. This is just a fascinating fact to me and something I enjoy considering. What life experience made him come to that conclusion? Was it just his dislike of his father that pushed him away? Could he have been another Sirius Black (Gryffindor in a Slytherin family) under slightly different circumstances? I mean, Voldemort likely wouldn't force him to become a Death Eater, but would his father? I don't know what at all went down there, but I like that potential story.

We also know he wasn't part of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad, even though some minor Slytherins were mentioned to be part of it. He just seems to be an actually decent guy (I don't care what Cursed Child says about him, I know he's there but I avoided almost anything to do with Cursed Child so I barely know the plot).

Finally, this is a character Harry doesn't have as much drama to get over with. Yes, sometimes I want to read overcoming drama between characters before it becomes a romance, but sometimes I want something chiller than that. And Theo is a really chill, safe, Slytherin option for Harry.

[evilkitten3]

things to do by places you're going - a travel guide

alaska - be killed by animals in silence

bangor - have fresh cranberries in your mouth

bogotá - hear the fire-eyed macaw sing

bolivia - have your room invaded by wildcats

brazil - touch your hair

bridlington - have blood all over your hands

bristol - break a coffee cup

buffalo - get in a taxi

california - stand on dry land and reap dividends under a cloudless sky

california (back to) - mourn randy rhoads

catalina - see a stranger in your eyes

chino - say hello to all your friends

cleveland - gnaw little holes in a net

dade county - look out at the front lawn at 6:31 am on a saturday

dallas - go to montana

denmark - be in a red brick building by a green field with a stream running through it

east rutherford - instructions unclear; check with nall

federal prison - run out of land

france - keep promises

georgia - have two big hands and a heart pumping blood and a 1967 colt .45 with a busted safety catch

hell - instructions unclear; move on

hungary - head straight to hell in a lincoln continental

jamaica - steal flowers from children

japan - get left behind in the sand

kansas - see the world pass by

kirby sigston - let the special chicken build a nest right by the window

lebanon - hear the city call

lebanon 2 - take note of what will be gone

lubbock - dig up a human skull bigger than a basketball

maine - get mailed flat rate right down to hell

malibu - sense the continent eroding

marrakesh - try to kill the same thing twice

mars - instructions unclear; send tumblr ask

maryland - hope no points repeat

mexico - burn in the morning

miami - imagine the bright pink color of the sky

michigan (or detroit) - know what i mean about the burning white rose

monaco - ask me to hold you (that's the devil's work)

morocco - have a guttural stop in your throat

niles - get chased out of town

norwalk - see a pair of raccoons heading to the gutter

palestine - smell oranges on the breeze

pomona (through) - remember who you were and what you came here for

port washington - have something on your mind

queens - know who you are yet

reykjavik - make yourself up again, brand new

san diego - don't believe your friends

santiago - get laughed at by birds

scotland - watch the night unfold

some damned english city - have a sad, sad friend in front of you

south carolina - instructions unclear; go away

spain - go on and board the plane

spirit lake - be on fire

tennessee - wash your face with that apricot scrub again

utrecht - look down through the third story window overlooking town

wisconsin - don't know where you are until you arrive

[hide-your-bugs-away]

A Dont Look Back edit I recall making three years ago amidst a migraine episode... COMFORT MOVIE!!! FAVORITE MOVIE!!! 🥹

Song: "Joe Blazey" by Dominic Fike

[feralnataroni]

Vampire Natalie x Reader (smut/fluff blurb)

An: I had this idea for a while and decided to post it, I hope y'all like it ya little freaks (affectionate) and bottom Natalie ftw (Sorry, not sorry)

(Tw: mentions of blood)

(Nsfw beneath the cut, MDNI)

☆♡☆♡☆

The windows on the car (Black 1967 pontiac firebird 400, literal dream car) built up with condensation pretty quick. It rolled down in streaks with how humid it was.

"Please, don't stop," she whispered against your skin. Her head resting just below your ear with her eyes shut tight.

The sound of strained, shallow panting and messy kisses along your neck had you reeling.

You'd be addicted to her if it was even possible.

The pretty girl in your lap was so close to coming undone. You could feel the way her body tensed and they way her fingers tightened on your shoulders.

She lifted her head up from her comfortable position to cup your face.

"Need-" she panted breathlessly. "Need blood," she practically begged. Her words ghosting over your lips.

Her mouth opened just enough to see her sharp canines poking out from under her top lip.

You reached your free hand up to lift up her lip, revealing the deadly fang.

She let out a soft growl and nipped at your finger tip, just barely missing the digit as you chuckled, smirking up at her.

She huffed at the empty response from you, nuzzling back into the crook of your neck.

"Cheeky mother fucker" she mumbled, trying to sound tough. Poor thing couldn't put up a front around you like this even if she tried.

You knew she hadn't fed in a few days, but she missed you more than the need to hunt. She practically dragged you to the back seat of your car upon your arrival. Climbing into your lap with an urgency you don't witness very often from her.

Only, the time between getting her fill and now was rearing its angry head, and she was getting desperate.

With your hand down her unzipped jeans and your fingers circling her sensitive clit, she had you right where she wanted needed you.

"Please, I'll be good. I'll be so, so good. Just- just need a little taste. That's all," she whimpered and started nosing at your neck more.

Her favorite spot.

The thought of her feeding from you sent a spike of adrenaline through your heart.

She must've smelled the rush of blood in your veins because she started moaning a little more with how good you were making her feel.

Just being near you made her dizzy. She just couldn't get enough of you. Your scent, your voice, your taste. It made her wild with how much she craved you.

"You can take what you need as soon as you cum sweet girl. Can you do that? Can you be my good girl and make a mess for me?" You cooed against her temple, kissing her there.

You reached your free hand up to stroke her hair and gently pull it out of the way for her.

She nodded and moved one hand down the to side of your neck and the other to hold your hand, lacing your fingers together.

It made her feel secure and safe with you, like you weren't gonna disappear when she opened her eyes.

Just as she was reaching her climax, you gave her the green light. "Cum for me, Nat,"

She let out a raspy moan as her fangs sunk into soft flesh of your neck.

Finally, the delicious red liquid coated her mouth and throat as she greedily drank from you.

The metal of the car squeaked quietly with every roll of Natalie's hips as she chased euphoria. More like hunted it down.

You groaned at the feeling, leaning back against the head rest slowly so as not to interrupt or interfere with her, taking what she needed.

She let out desperate cries of pleasure as she came down from her high and got her fill.

"Thank you," she whispered almost out of breath when she pulled away, pressing soft kisses against the puncture wounds and licking up any excess blood that dripped out.

Once the bleeding slowed to a stop, she looked up into your eyes with a shy smile.

She had a smudge of crimson lingering on her lips and the side of her mouth.

"Feel better, angel?" You reached your clean hand up to wipe away the blood from her lips.

"Mhm, you always make me feel better. You make me feel alive," she leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

You rested your hands on her hips, rubbing soft circles with your thumbs against the fabric of her jeans.

How lucky of you to find an eternal lover like her.

"You're such a beautiful sight, y'know that?" You blurted out once she pulled back.

She turned away with another shy smile and crossed her arms over her chest. "Shut up,"

Could vampires blush?

☆♡☆♡☆

[greasegotahold]

Lots of debate on the timeline of events in the outsiders and ages fitting into that, but according to Hinton Pony was born July 22, and he'd been 14 for about a month (line in the movie) when the main events kick off. That would put the murder during late August, which is exactly when that schoolyear would be starting. They only hide out for 5 days, which would put them at early September when they end up back home.

The rumble, Johnny's death, Dally's death, and Pony's concussion fainting happens the night after they get home.

Ponyboy comes to after 3 days, then ends up on bedrest for another week, where he displays delusional thought.

The Juvenile Court hearing presumably occurs shortly after that bedrest, as Pony is still not considered fit to testify on the murder, placing it squarely into the month of September.

It's not super clear how long the depressive episode lasts for Pony, but it's long enough that he is failing his classes and Syme is offering to bring him up to a C. Recalling my high school days, overall grades for fall semester were usually evident by like mid October, so I would give Pony 2-3 weeks, maybe a full month before Syme reaches out.

However, we also know Pony was procrastinating on his assignment, it's part of Darry's nagging iirc, so that + the theme being a final project for the semester, it was probably due mid-late November/maaaayyybe early December.

This is where ages come in bc some of the ages we have from the TV Show Bible don't align with the story's events happening in August.

However.

We know that we are reading Ponyboy's theme. It ends cyclical to the beginning, and there's also evident effort on Ponyboy's end to avoid writing profanity into his recollection. He's 14, been to Hell and back, and also procrastinated on his essay. That is to say, I'd believe it if the argument was made that for some of the surviving characters, he just mentioned how old they were at the time of writing.

Side note, too, that the musical does corroborate the main events happening in late August imo, as it explicitly ties the Curtis Parents' deaths to Darry's birthday; Darry was born January 5, and they died 8 months before the story took place; 8 months from January is obviously September, technically. However. Looking at the calendar year for 1967 (the musical is bumped up 2 years), Darry's birthday fell on the first Thursday of January. If Pony's birthday is July 22nd and it's been a month (not confirmed in the musical to have been a month, but confirmed that he would be 15 next July), the Friday Night Drive-In encounter would have been August 25 (literally the first week of school), 7 months and 3 weeks after the crash; technically not 8 months, but extremely close. If we want to push it closer and move the events a week later, then the drive in would have happened September 1.

In conclusion, my proposed book timeline, cross-referenced with calendars and given school start dates:

Tuesday, January 5, 1965—Darry's Birthday, potentially also the death of Curtis Parents

Thursday, July 22, 1965—Ponyboy's 14th birthday

Thursday, August 26, 1965—Pony gets jumped

Friday, August 27, 1965—Pony goes to the drive-in, Johnny kills Bob (technically this happens in the wee hours of Saturday, but the jumping that led to it was a consequence of the drive in so I'm lumping them)

Saturday, August 28-Wednesday, September 1, 1965— (technically the actual time of Bob's murder) + Windrixville hideout + fire + Hospital reunion

Thursday, September 2, 1965—Rumble + Johnny's death + Dally's Death + Pony's concussion

Friday, September 3-Sunday, September 5, 1965—Pony in feverish delirium

Monday, September 6-Sunday, September 12, 1965—Pony on Bedrest

Monday, September 13, 1965—Juvenile Court

Tuesday, September 14, 1965-Depressive fugue begins

Monday, October 11 or 18, 1965—Mr Syme alerts Ponyboy of his failing grade+presents semester's final project in the form of a personal theme.

Mid November, 1965—theme is written

[argumate]

so I'm trying to figure out the geography of Israel (without looking at a map of course) and it's kind of complicated but we can start with "from the river to the sea" so that's the Jordan River running vertically on the right and the Mediterranean sea over on the left.

immediate follow up questions: which direction is the river flowing, north or south? why is it running parallel to the sea instead of into it? does it flow into the Mediterranean at all, or empty into one of those big lake "seas" like the sea of Galilee (?) or the Dead Sea?

that aside, the West Bank makes immediate sense as being on the west bank of the Jordan River, although it sounds like that could apply to quite a lot of Israel.

the Gaza strip is on the Mediterranean sea -- it has beaches, there's a naval blockade -- and it's a narrow strip, so it also runs north/south down to a border crossing with Egypt at the south.

the Sinai must be down south too, as I understand it Israel captured that territory during the 1967 war (the six day one, when the Arab nations invaded and got their asses kicked) but gave it back after the 1973 war (the one where they invaded again and it was a closer outcome).

the Golan Heights are territory captured from Syria so they must be up in the north-- east, I guess? and Israel also borders Lebanon, which I assume is up in the north, Lebanon also has beaches.

Turkey is out past Syria, presumably?

Tel Aviv is a city with beaches, so it must be on the coast north of Gaza, meanwhile Jerusalem is somewhere in the messy zone of the West Bank.

other cities I have no idea where they go: Rafah, Ramallah, Jenin, Hebron, Haifa I guess, oh Sderot is that little Israeli town that's absurdly close to Gaza (less than a mile) so it's constantly getting rocket attacks, then you have biblical names like Jericho, Nazareth, etc.

don't think I really know any meaningful details of the interior of Israel, like it's all scrubby territory in my mind, olive groves and citrus and rocks and goats grazing.

this doesn't look right, but it can't be completely wrong...

[sunflowersinthedirt]

NOW AND THEN | GEORGE HARRISON 🌻

You love sunflowers and George miss you.

Angst (i’m a sad person), mentions of grief, angry issues. May have some sensitive topics to some readers.

English is not my first language and gifs are not mine.

1995: Summer.

Ringo and Paul were playing their ukuleles and conversing in the company of their respective wives. They were almost oblivious to George's presence in that vast garden. Today was a delicate day; they were finalizing the recordings for the Anthology documentary, and talking so much about John left Geo with a bittersweet (or rather, sour) taste in his mouth.

George was one of the few who didn't get to make amends with John before he passed away, and today, despite the sunny atmosphere, George was gloomy and quieter than usual. He was feeling nostalgic. He had remembered things that made him happy but at the same time, saddened him.

It was when he thought of you, looking at the sunflower garden he had planted, that the memories came flooding back. George walked over there, struggling against the feeling of sadness that seemed to take over and fill his chest. He had no idea he was being watched by Olivia and Dhani, who knew about his devotion to those flowers more than anyone. What they didn't know was the reason Geo loved sunflowers so much.

1967:

— Look, me nails and clothes are full of dirt! — Said the girl, laughing and showing her hands. — Only you'd be able to see me all dirty like this.

George laughed.

— I'm worse than you. — He said, getting up from the flowerbed and helping her up. He clapped his legs to get the excess dirt off his hands and clothes, making himself even dirtier. — And you're the prettiest girl covered in dirt I've ever seen. — He confessed, with a cheeky smile.

The girl shook her head.

— Please, love... — She laughed. — You're bein' too nice to me.

He took her in his arms. Neither of them caring that they were dirty with soil in the middle of that garden.

— You know you're gorgeous no matter what. — he said, kissin' her lips. — Thank you for helpin' me take care of this garden. And thank you for lookin' after it when I'm not around.

She smiled and felt her face warm with all the adoration and courtship from the dark-haired man.

— You know I love this garden. Takin' care of it is a way for me to ease the missin' I feel for you when you're gone. — She confessed, George's eyes staring into yours like he wanted to capture every detail of you at all once. You were, without a shadow of a doubt, the most beautiful woman George had ever seen.

You were beautiful because you were you. In your simplicity, in your little mannerisms, in the way you walked... George loved everything about you and wished he could keep you like a porcelain doll so nothin' would ever harm you.

— And I took the liberty of plantin' some sunflowers here. Don't get me wrong, I love orchids, but sunflowers will always be my favorites. — She commented. The warm wind blowing through her long hair made George pull a few strands away from her face.

— They're lovely, darling. I loved them. They made the garden more colorful. — He said. The girl smiled.

— Sunflowers are happy flowers to me. I love them. — She confessed, looking at the flowerbed. She was proud of her work. — And if I ever die, I want you to bring me sunflowers every year. Wherever I am, I'll be happy...

George's smile faded at his beloved's request. It was sudden, a happy moment turned into a melancholy mess in an instant. She was like that: very honest. Not that George wasn't aware that people could die, after all, he had already lost someone that year: his manager, Brian. He and the rest of the band were still stunned by the untimely death of someone as passionate about life as Brian.

— Y/N... — He took a deep breath, stepping away from her touch. He was tough enough not to want to cry in front of her. He didn't like thinking about the possibility of losing her one day. He'd rather go first than see the woman he loved leave forever. — I-I... I think that's a rather morbid wish, don't you think?

The girl shook her head.

— I think it's the sentence we all carry — She concluded. — I'm sorry if I touched on a sensitive subject for you.

— It's alright. — It wasn't. — We need to take a bath and get all this dirt off us.

He changed the subject and took her by the hands so quickly into the house that she didn't have time to breathe and tell him what had been bothering her. Not that she wanted to tell him, knowing that George would do everything he could to take that away from her and that would cost him a lot.

Four months later:

She was sick and no one knew except John, her best friend. When George received that phone call at the studio, something inside him knew it wasn't good news. Although the news hit him like a speeding car, he couldn't feel anything about the fact that you had told John and not him that you were in the terminal phase. The electric guitar fell from his hands, making a loud noise that pierced the acoustic walls of the studio. He wanted it all to be just a nightmare.

He blamed himself a lot. It was obvious that her thinness wasn't normal, but he was so busy with the recordings of the White album that he was living on autopilot. He fought with John. He wanted to punch John.

He wanted to hold back his tears, he didn't want to yell at one of his best friends... But John knew George had been holding back his tears since Brian's death. It was George who held down the fort with the media when Brian died because John couldn't speak.

And losing you was unbearable... And when he remembered that you had asked him to bring you sunflowers, he wanted to tear out every single flower from that garden and set it on fire.

For the first time, gardening had become a distaste for him. Geo was immensely devastated. He swallowed his pride, made peace with John, and asked his friend to accompany him on your wake. George wanted to fulfill your last request despite all the anger and sadness bottled up in his chest about those "damned flowers."

And so, every year... He brought you sunflowers. He would plant a flowerbed on your grave if it would bring you back.

Present: 1995, Summer.

George sighed. His chest seemed full of that anguish from the past, and to remember you and John now with a bitter taste in his mouth was devastating. He put on a brave face. Mentally, he made a small prayer that your spirits could find the peace you so sought in life. George had married someone he liked, had a beautiful family, but you never left Geo's heart and Friar Park. There was a part of you there, and it was those vibrant yellow flowers.

— Sunflowers are happy flowers to me. I love them.— He remembered what you had said. He no longer hated them because they were a sweet reminder of you. It was the color that was missing from his life, and in a way, it was there, almost spiritually cheering him up.

George wiped away the tears with the sleeve of his jacket, which by this point had already flooded his eyes, making his vision blurry.

— I will always love you. — He said to himself, hoping that you, Brian, and John could hear him wherever you were.

[narcjsistx]

𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 | kaiser x reader

— part ten

plot: kaiser comforted you after a bad and slow breakup, but what will happen now considering what you two shared? is everything still unexpected or is there something you both simply have yet to realize?. fluff shit 'cause yeah!!

words: 1.9k (1967)

extra: it will probably become a multi part story, tell me if you're interested in a part eleven! I also realized that maybe I write shorter chapters better, so abandon the 2.5/3k word chapters

Since the parade had taken place you had completely returned to the path you were on, as if the hatred that so many had directed at you had dematerialized: on the one hand you appreciated this thing, but on the other it still made you so angry when you remembered how they had treated you. Many agencies, both German and foreign, had asked you to collaborate, but you had decided that for the moment you would only stay with TraumLaufsteg, which still had many answers to give you; you still wanted to understand what kind of relationship there was between Ursula and Gabriel, and how he was one of the founders. These were questions that tormented you at night, but for some time now you have been spending them more peacefully in Kaiser's arms, where you felt good

The media had begun to suspect the alleged relationship between you and the German prodigy, but beyond speculation there was obviously nothing confirmed. You and Michael were careful to keep things low profile, as complicated as it was for both of you. No one had yet understood that you had moved back in with him, and no one should have understood that now hugs weren't the only thing you exchanged

Michael had been on tour in the Berlin border areas for a week now, and for convenience he didn't come home, as much as he wanted to. You missed him, but he would be back in less than a few days, so you were happy. Life with Kaiser was going great, and that made you fall in love with him even more. The only problem was that Gabriel had suddenly started managing the company's models, including you: this meant being in contact with him more than necessary, and as much as I didn't want to, it was work

"Okay, one last time, whole runway" says the man sitting in his comfortable chair, while you and the other seven models return to the starting position. You had been doing the exact same thing since this morning only with different clothes, and if it hadn't been for the presence of your ex you would surely have been happier. You take a deep breath, taking the first position as the top model. You start walking, gaze fixed and movements flowing, swinging the wide skirt you had to wear as a test. You walk the entire length, reaching the tip where you put a hand on your hip, looking at the imaginary audience and then walking back, always with the same grace. The other models repeat the gesture taking their time, but you always feel Gabriel's gaze on you

He always looks at you, as if it were something that would make him breathe. Even when the attention should be on the other models, his gaze doesn't move from your figure, and you can't do much more than glare at him. Since he started working with you again, he has this toxic habit, which always makes you feel bad even though you haven't done anything. It gets worse when Ursula is with him, who occasionally attends the rehearsals next to the man: it makes you laugh a little how she tries to get his attention, failing miserably... and yet on the day of the show they seemed like best friends. Ursula doesn't talk much with her models, much less with you, so you don't know much about this woman who, in your opinion, knows a lot about you

"Okay ladies. Monica, more movement, you're modeling, not going shopping... and Iseut, more expressions, you have a cute face, use it. Also for our top model..." says the man, waking you up from your thoughts and noticing that everyone has modeled "Nothing to say, we all know she's a professional" he says giggling slightly, and while the others nod you want to do nothing more than go to him and strangle him. You hate his behavior, you hate everything about him and how he tries to flatter you every time. You'd be tempted to intentionally screw up everything to see his reaction, but at the same time it's not like you to ruin your always impeccable work for someone like that, unworthy of so much fame

You are about to leave the room to go to your dressing room and finally call your boyfriend, when you hear the doors of the rehearsal room open, and two video cameras enter followed by Ursula herself. You are surprised by this, because from what you knew from the other models in the agency access to the video cameras is prohibited

The cameras are roaming around the room, as you and the other models stare at them. You hear someone muttering something confused about this, and you don't know how to react even though you've been used to being in the spotlight for years now. You don't know why, but it stinks

Ursula stands next to Gabriel, and from the knowing smile they exchange you understand that the bomb you were waiting for is probably about to explode right now. The stylist's snake-like gaze looks you over, and a cold shiver runs down your spine as you watch the cameras finally settle in front of the two buddies, who are now scenographically side by side. You need to leave now, because the situation is feeling stranger by the second, and you don't like

"Welcome to the agency! Gabriel and I are very honored to be able to give you the opportunity to document life in the TraumLaufsteg, which for a long time has not given such a chance to anyone. Feel free to ask me and our models anything you have in mind" says Ursula in front of the first camera, while Gabriel nods "You have entered at the end of the shift of the models who will participate in the next fashion show, I was just taking care of that" he says charismatically, and the woman nods. One of the two video cameras is put down, while the man holding it comes in front of the screen, probably taking the place of the interviewer "Could you tell us more about the next show?" says the man "You can ask our models, they are ready to answer" says Gabriel, and the object moves towards you, catching you off guard. You and all the others know how to handle the situation, it is a quality that you have to acquire if you do this job, but it is still strange

The interviewer approaches, taking the girl at your side "Could you tell me how a normal shift goes?" he asks, and the woman shows off her best smile while improvising some cool answers, but in truth you don't listen to. Gabriel's oppressive gaze, now a few meters away from you, continues to stare at you with an almost maniacal smile, the same one that Ursula gives you. You gulp down a lump of saliva as you fix your hair, trying to ignore the situation. "How does it feel to walk with an internationally famous model?" the interviewer suddenly asks, and the woman remains silent for a few seconds, honestly not knowing how to respond. They all know who the man is referring to, and you can't help but smile at the camera filming you, one that actually hides a bit of anxiety and perplexity underneath

The woman remains silent, smiling nervously. The interviewer now turns to you, the microphone pointed at your mouth. “This would be the first interview you’ve had since the break” he says, and you nod. “It would have come sooner or later. You’ve obviously had more luck than the others” you say, trying to sound as nonchalant as usual. The man nods “You’re probably right. How does it feel to be back on the catwalk?” he asks “Oh, it feels great. I’ve missed doing the usual things, and going back to the catwalk was like getting some fresh air after keeping my face under water for too long” you say. The microphone shakes a bit "And why choose an agency right here in Germany? And then, such a small one" he says, and you understand why Gabriel was smiling before. You suspect that they are ready-made questions, that they are aimed at putting you in difficulty and make you look like an idiot

"Well, I moved to Germany a while ago, and starting again with an Italian agency would have been uncomfortable because of the country difference. I chose TraumLaufsteg because I saw potential, and I would say I made the right choice when I see the results of the last show" you say, using all the trump cards you can give. It's a smooth answer, but it doesn't reveal anything wrong, or at least that's what you think

"How coincidental, however, to choose TraumLaufsteg, which is precisely the agency where Gabriel is the founder. Is there something in between this choice? After all, there has been a lot of chaos between your boyfriend and you in the last few weeks" says the man, and finally you understand that it is all a trap from the beginning, designed only to advance the main topic, that is, you and Gabriel. You see an immense satisfaction in the man, and you can't help but want to kill him

"There is absolutely no correlation between my choice and the situation you are talking about, since my ex and I are no longer together. I saw potential in the TraumLaufsteg without asking myself too many questions about who the founders were" you say in a serious tone, one that has the aim of not letting anything but your disgust transpire. The interviewer looks surprised, as does Gabriel who leaves Ursula's side, taking steps towards you. You watch him approach, feeling yourself suffocated with each step that brings you closer. He comes to your side, making his way through the models, putting his arm around your waist. Your eyes widen, moving to step aside, but his firm grip doesn't let you move. He smiles at the camera, as if nothing's wrong. If he wants to play like a jerk he's doing it perfectly

"My Y/n is just kidding, we all know in the industry how her humor can almost seem truthful. I don't know what's going on in her head, I just know that we are definitely not exes" he says playfully in front of the camera, which frames the two of you while you are doing everything you can to keep him away. You look at him disgusted, like you have never looked at anyone before. He wants to change the story every time to suit his own convenience, first calling you a traitor and now again calling you his girlfriend

It only takes a second for you to feel his lips crush yours. Your blood runs cold as you feel the sickening sensation you had forgotten and that had comforted you for so many years. He lingers on your lips, feeling them as he always has. You move to pull away, but it's no use because of his firm grip. You would like to cry, slap him, push him as far away from you as possible, but you can't do anything but remain perplexed by the gesture, appearing in front of the camera like a dead person. Now that you've gotten used to only Kaiser's lips, why do you feel those who have only spoken badly of you?

"See? Couple as always" says Gabriel, joking with the interviewer. You watch it disgusted, and everyone on television could tell that you were clearly not comfortable. Because yes, unbeknownst to you this was live nationally

And a certain blond German soccer player was watching the scene in his cold hotel room

tag(s): @rroxii ; @kittenish0 ; @bungoustraydogsno1fan (if you want to be tagged tell me!)