#i’m mobile sorry this is ugly

[aeclectick]

Leboosh & Kavir hurt/comfort (?) fic double drop below the cut—major episode 10+14 spoilers and pre-canon headcanons abound

teen, no archive warnings, cw in author’s notes (canonical character death for both)

mr. sandman, lend us some time (2289 words)

Character Appearances: Kavir, Leboosh, Dandy, Chuckles, Rai’s, Soraya

Additional Tags: Character Study, Canon Era, Pre-Canon, Extended Scene, Backstory, Angst

Summary: In space, time can feel as endless as a satisfying morning stretch. Trying to corral it with finite timepieces sounds insulting, but Kavir has always been a master of diplomacy. Here are three of his compromises shaped like hourglasses.

it’s easy to miss the stars for the ships for the wink out of the corner of your eye (3530 words)

Character Appearances: Leboosh, Kavir, Hank, Pyke

Additional Tags: Character Study, Relationship Study, Canon Compliant, Grief/Mourning, Pre-Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Non-Linear Narrative, Backstory

Summary:

“I am certain that you have an emergency termination button,” Leboosh says, “Rett would attend to this.” Hank offers him a whuffle that’s more cooling fan than speaker system, and thumps his tail against the navigator’s seat in a rhythm not dissimilar to the heartbeat that does not run through either of their frames.

Space. The end stretches so far away that you might have to find a word stronger than infinite to describe it. Leboosh can find no words or strength to describe himself after the death of his friend, but time will tell their tale as it does to all of our ends.

(bonus insane person Leboosh/The Weaver/Grimwm 2nd person fic: #copinghardorhardlycoping)

[candiedstrwb]

who an enby have to beg for plots with older muses…….

[wastelandwhisperer]

Tagged by @daylifesims and @catzy-cove for 5 songs on repeat!!! Thank you darlings 💕✨

So pretty much I’ve only been listening to Sleep Token so…

•Aqua Regia

•Descending

•Ascensionism

•Rain

•The Apparition

I’m tagging @whimsicalsimmies @rebelangelsims @yooniesim @woosteru @wileyfern @demonicrosebushsims

and anyone else who wants to do it!!!

[devils-yui]

Reposting this from a friend bc I think it is VERY important to know of this, and for immigrants, and other possible victims of the ICE Raids happening right now

Here’s to also a very huge edit, from the list of very helpful people who have been reblogging and providing more info.

I’m not as well informed but I will be relaying the information and tagging each person who added onto this post:

@onthedriftinthetardis -

The phone number in the first photo is ONLY for Orange County, California!

Look up your local ACLU affiliate here

@6feetunderwater -

It always makes me nervous to see a reporting phone number passed around without any links to verify it, so the number in the first pic can be found on the site for the Orange County Rapid Response Network, which is "an interconnected system of non-profit and grassroots organizations, civil rights attorneys, law school clinics, and individuals working together to respond to dehumanizing immigration enforcement activities and policies in Orange County"

@geekerypeekery -

The second warrant is not fake, but is an administrative rather than judicial warrant, and has no constitutional authority to bypass Fourth Amendment protections - in other words, it does not entitle the bearer to enter and search your home. It simply authorizes agents of the issuing department to contact you. Always ask to see the warrant before opening your door!

In addition to the ACLU links, try contacting the National Immigration Law Center https://www.nilc.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/Warrants-Subpoenas-Facts.pdf

@american-anger -

The phone number listed here is specific to Orange County in California, but you can look up other California counties here:

CALIFORNIA RAPID RESPONSE NETWORKS

@beaniebaneenie -

Unpleasant reminder: within 100 miles of the border (which is home to 200 million people and virtually all major cities in the US), ICE does not need a warrant to enter your home, your car, to search anything, or even to arrest you.

You are not automatically safe just because they don't have a real warrant.

The best and safest thing you can do is learn to have escape routes- quick ways to get out of the house or area you're in if you find out ICE or CBP are around. Those of us who do have documentation? Time for us to step the fuck up.

Film any interaction. Every interaction. If you're able, step into the conversation and be a Karen/Kyle- weaponize your privilege for Good. If you get asked about people? Use positive but vague statements so you a) cannot be caught in a lie, and b) do not give any information away.

"I don't know them that well, but I don't tend to socialize much. They seem great to me."

"I can't remember the last time I saw them."

"Maybe they speak another language, I can't remember details. But I picked up Duolingo during the pandemic and tons of other people did too."

"I'm not sure."

"I'm sorry, I can't help you."

Even if you're somewhere the 100-mile Exception doesn't apply and a warrant is in fact needed? I don't expect ICE and CBP to play by the rules for long, if at all. I fully expect this to get ugly, and fast.

Cheeto has already declared an emergency of national security at the border, and is mobilizing the military to have jurisdiction over a huge swath of the country. It's essentially tantamount to martial law. And it's only been four days.

Gear up for a long, hard fight. This is gonna be a marathon, not a sprint.

— I am leaving all of this as an edit because on the off chance someone does find the posts that have these people specifically reblogging, I don’t want it to be too late. So I’m comprising it all here

Here are a few other people’s reblogs I thought were important:

Thank you @onthedriftinthetardis @6feetunderwater @geekerypeekery @american-anger @beaniebaneenie @bunnychiffon @dubiouslynamed @trisockatops @witchy-disaster for contributing and helping me make this a more well-informed post. Thank you so much

[glitteringpriime]

FMK: Marshall, Lili, Lenny

F: Lenny — realistically, this would involve a ring, but for the sake of the game.

M: Marsh — the most serious and long term option, obviously. It also includes the other two, technically.

K(iss): Lili — because she’s a girl. Not because I like her less or anything like that. Platonic.

[theboyofalltime]

I say we bring back normal human teeth.

[salvatoraes]

YOOO, it's your birthday? happy birthday, friend! hope you have a good one!

AHH YES IT IS ( for 15 more minutes lol ) , thank you!!

[flowrfeast]

……

[chimerafeathers]

reposting in honor of this beautiful dunmeshi update day

warning for flashing images and major spoilers for Dungeon Meshi, especially chapter 60 or so and beyond

[ on youtube ]

[wonderjanga]

Marvel on The Masked Singer

This is just a little thingy for me because I’ve been rewatching episodes. Imagine if he was on the Masked Singer? His vocal range would be crazy because I say so. He’d sing an Elvis song one week, and then a Megan Trainor song the week after that. Basically a different genre each week. Also, Mary would be the one picking the songs. She also picked the costume he wore.

The Person who Gives the Singers their Costumes: “Here we are! Take your pick.”

Mary: “We’ll take that one.” *points to a pig costume* (SHAZHAM (🐷) REFERENCE!!!)

Marvel: “But that one’s ugly.”

Mary: “So? It provides more mobility. You’re going to pick that one.”

Marvel: “But, again, it’s ugly.”

Mary: *puts hand up* “I’m sorry, but last time I checked, have you ever participated in a competition like this?”

Marvel: “Well, no, but—”

Mary: “That’s what I thought. We’ll take that one.” *points again to the costume again*

The Person who Gives the Singers their Costumes: *looks to Marvel*

Marvel: *nods head* “She’s uh… She’s the boss.” *sounds intimated*

The Person who Gives the Singers their Costumes: “Uhm…” *looks between the two* “Alright then.” *walks away to a couple other people so they could wheel the costume out, a little baffled they just watched a teenage girl intimidate a grown man*

Marvel: *looks to Mary* “You’re a little bit too into this, you know that?”

Mary: “Shush. Let me be excited! If you’re going to do this, you’re going to do this to your fullest potential!”

Marvel: *happy to see her having fun with the whole thing* “Yes ma’am.”

The choreography would go crazy too. Like Mary said, he was going to do it to his fullest potential. She’s making him learn how to dance in sync with other dancers all that. One of the only reasons he isn’t completely struggling is that a couple past Champions were dancers, ritual performers/dancers, and so on. As for if he’d win? Maybe. All I know is that absolutely no one guessed him.

Crowd and Judges: “Take off the mask! Take off the mask! Take off the mask!”

Marvel: *takes off the mask*

Show Host: *jaw drop*

Crowd: *jaws drop*

Judges: *jaws drop*

Literally any leaguer whose watching the show: *jaws drop*

Show Host: “Superhero, Captain Marvel???”

Marvel: *little wave*

Show Host: “The winner of Masked Singer season X! Congratulations, you were amazing. Now what brought you to the show?” *hands Marvel a mic*

Marvel: “Uuuh… so I came on the show cause Junior dared me. Uhm I honestly didn’t expect to win.” *gives a thumbs up* “Was super fun though.”

Show Host: “Well that’s amazing!”

And so, Marvel goes home with the trophy. Freddy suggests they melt it down and sell it before Mary tells them it probably isn’t real gold.

The next day at the Watchtower…

Marvel: *Zetas in*

Flash: *zooms over, pointing* “You!”

Marvel: “Me.” *looks around* “Something wrong, Flash?”

Flash: “Yes! You can sing?!”

Marvel: “Oh, uh… You heard about that?”

Flash: “Everyone’s heard about it!”

Marvel: “Oh.”

Flash: “Yeah, ‘oh.’”

*silence*

Flash: “We’re marathoning all the entire season.”

Marvel: “WHAT?”

As for the songs he sang, obviously an Elvis song, and for me, myself and I, Hopelessly Devoted to you by Olivia Newton-John. You can pick the other songs.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Platonic Yandere Queen Step Sister

She wasn’t always a queen 

Like every queen before she was a princess

But before she was a princess she was a count from a low-class duchy

Her mother had found your father

Old, ill, and enticed by the countess willing to entertain him

The countess herself wasn’t awful

She was civil, for the most part the only problem with her was her daughter

“And this is your new sister—Harley! Say hello!”

“Hmph just because your Dad’s the King doesn’t mean I have to like you!”

“Harley!”

Harley was a menace

Snooty and rude

Every time she spoke to you it was like liquid acid spraying specifically at you

She was typically spoiled but she never mistreated the servants 

She was decent to your father 

But to you, it was like she hated your guts from the very beginning

“I’m glad I spilled all that cranberry juice on you! The little outfit you were wearing before matched your ugliness a bit too well.”

“That was a gift from my late mother!”

“Hm figures.”

Of course in turn you hate her too

And you don’t bother hiding it from your father when he weakly asks you to hang out with her

“Did you hear what she said to me? I honestly couldn’t care less if that horse she spooked stomped her flat.”

“(Y/n)! Hold your tongue, she’s your new sister.”

“She might be your daughter but that thing is not my sister.”

He doesn’t seem convinced as he continues putting you together with her in hopes it will strengthen your bond

It does not

And it will never be as your father succumbs to his illness

Naturally, you prepare to take on the throne despite your young age

But alas nothing goes the way it should since she’s been forced into your life

“As the former partner of the King, I gladly will take up the role until our child is ready.”

It’s infuriating as the advisor reads a part in his newly written will about this

How he ordained that his second wife have you in her care and the kingdom in her control

And of course decency dwindles as she becomes drunk on the social power

Fueling her gremlin of a daughter

“Mother’s forbidden you from leaving your room. So I figured I’d give you some of my company! You're welcome.”

“Go jump out the window.”

“How dare–MOM!”

It just gets worse and worse

You do think for a moment things will get better as The substitute Queen keels over her wine at a banquet

Thanking the heavens for whoever poisoned her, you’re prepared to take the throne

“I am so sorry (Y/n) but the council has ruled that for your safety as the kingdom’s only true heir, it’d be dangerous to let you take the throne. So we’ll give the role of Queen to Harley.”

It takes you everything not to stab the brat as she puffs her chest and flips her hair

“Won’t you congratulate me on my coronation!”

It’s agony that ripples under your skin as you have no choice but to flee the castle grounds to escape her stabbing presence and that only works for a day at most

With her mother no longer ruling she isn’t forced to take etiquette lessons away from you

Now she can demand your attendance for any minor meeting

“I don’t think we should mobilize our militia on that border. It’s far too much of an overreaction.”

“What about the villages that have been burned there? The people who need medical attention?”

“Hush (Y/n) I didn’t say you could talk in this meeting.”

It's all so frustrating feeling trapped

But you’re not the only one 

Harley is incredibly frustrated because of what keeps her trapped

And that’s her inability to say anything that she truly means

Especially with manners of the heart

Underneath layers of cruel insults, stifling rules, and personal jabs 

Is a step-sister who adores your very being but is stuck with her thorny exterior

She is forced to stick her nose up and sneer at you when you look her direction

When she’ll say “You look like death with the new family brooch. You might do better to just leave it off.”

What she means “I think you look even more gorgeous than usual with the family brooch, don’t ever take it off.”

If she wasn’t as backward demented as she was it probably wouldn’t be so hard to try being nice

To switch her compliments to insults for just a day to give you a kind compliment

But she hates actually making it so that

Naturally, this is why she killed her mother

She’d gotten in the way of her free time with you 

On top of looking down on you which she absolutely hates the most

Granted she’s certain you hate her with how much time she spends attempting to bring you down expressing her affection the only way she can

Sometimes she’s tempted to put it in writing 

just explain her condition so that she can jump into your arms as you connect the dots

But every time she’d written something out, she couldn’t help but confess how obsessed she was with you 

How happy she was that her whole job now was protecting you

She wasn’t exactly fond of the kingdom other than it being an inheritance for you

She hopes you’ll forgive her as she’ll  prioritize you and your safety above all else

No one but your father’s trusted advisor may see past her biting personality

Convinced with the council that it’s best to have her temporarily rule

If only until they get to the bottom of both the King and the Queen’s deaths

Should any council member question her or her motives 

she’d be quick to shut that down

She can’t have these old nobles get in the way of her dominion over you

“I hope you enjoy the joys of being accused of fraud. It’ll be nice to look back on your time when on the council when you’re rotting in jail.”

She has no mercy for anyone but you

[buryme-withmyspurs]

inez chuckles and goes rummaging through the cabinets. she grabs the nuts and even a thing of sprinkles, collecting their spoils out along the countertop. “just missin’ that bourbon and i think we then got the fixings for a good time.” oh !! “bananas, too, peaches — can’t go splittin’ without ‘em.”

the maraschino cherries would be missed, but they had pooled together enough of a party bar that, once the bourbon hit, it wouldn’t quite matter.

Reaching up into the fridge, Dom pulled out two cans. "One's half full from the party but the other one is full! We got...nuts? If you want nuts??? Go nuts!" That was a terrible joke. "Whatever you want on top, I'm sure I have it in one of the top cabinets," she said as she worked on finding two appropriate sized bowls for their escapades.

[writertothemaximum]

hi i want to request a sfw fic if its okay :3 yuuji with a reader who is anxious at all times and like really easily scared? like huohuo from hsr ( if you play hsr ) headcannons or anything is fine , and male reader please

omg yes it’s very okay!! I do play hsr, huohuo is such a cutie,, (I’m sure you are too anon!) (patpat) Anon, you might really like Kaito Yuki from the jjk mobile game! He has a really cute arc with Yuuji about overcoming his preconceived biases and fear of curses. (i’m really hoping someone translates the main story ;w; but that’s where it is) I hope you enjoy this little story :)

Yuuji x Easily Scared + High Anxiety Reader

// content // sfw, Established relationship, both of you are Juju tech students, reader has compulsive anxiety (thoughts about dying), but it’s okay yuuji will comfort you (and you will comfort him), hurt/comfort, ugly crying, I don't think I actually state the reader's gender anywhere but I was imagining male

-Getting through each day is like a roller coaster for you. Classes are difficult enough, especially when you constantly get compared to your peers, and then missions. Missions are a completely different subject.

-Luckily, your cursed technique isn’t exactly built for combat, but they need your expertise here and there, and every time you’ve gone, you’ve seen your life flash before your eyes. Being a sorcerer isn’t an easy job in any sense of the phrase, but the fact that this is commonplace? That this is normal? You’re saving people. You’re helping people. You’re doing your best, but your best isn’t enough, it never was.

…

You and Yuuji are cuddling on the couch, and a movie plays on the TV. It’s a horror movie that Yuuji’s been begging you to watch with him for a while now, and while horror isn’t your favorite, you’ve had to admit that it’s more enjoyable than you initially expected. A part of it hits too close to home, but there’s also something a bit cathartic about seeing people freak out more than you do. (Well, they are just acting. You’re not.)

Today, though, is a little different. You just knew the moment you got out of bed today that it was going to be a bit of a rough one. There’s just this tension in your fingertips, this rattling in your brain—It’s just not a good day. You’re on edge and you don’t know why. Did you get into an argument with someone? Did you forget to do something? Was it the mission yesterday? Oh god, it has to be the mission yesterday. It wasn’t your fault. Don’t worry about it, it wasn’t your fault.

You could have died. You can die tomorrow. You look right at Yuuji and you feel his heartbeat pumping against you in a steady rhythm. You can lose him. It might even be your fault.

There’s a loud noise on the screen, and the monster jumps up and the screen cuts to red. Somehow, you’re screaming and there’s tears running down your face.

“Hey!” Yuuji shouts out, pausing the movie, turning his attention to you. “Are you alright? What’s up? Hey, come on.”

He’s so sweet, his voice is so sweet you could drown in it. It’s too much. It’s just too much all at once.

You find yourself babbling, tears running down your cheeks. It’s pathetic, god, you’re so fucking pathetic. Yuuji’s looking right at you. What is he thinking? Is he going to hate you? Because you started balling at a stupid fucking jumpscare?

His arms wrap around you, and you sniffle, feeling the soft fabric of his hoodie rub against the back of your neck. “It’s okay. I’m here, it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble out, finally getting a grip on human language.

Yuuji just chuckles. “Why are you apologizing? I should be apologizing, I kept pressuring you to put on the movie.”

You squeeze Yuuji back, and his toned body is so soft, you can just sink in for hours. He’s like a furnace, and everything fills you with warmth. “I’m sorry for being pathetic and crying in front of you.”

“You’re not pathetic,” Yuuji says bluntly, his voice firm. There’s a pause, and Yuuji goes still. You feel him tense up just a bit. “You know,” he starts, taking a breath, “I’ve always admired you. Like a lot.”

You bite your lip. That’s a bit hard to believe. Clearly, Yuuji can tell.

“I mean it! Whenever I get scared, I think about you cheering me on. Whenever I doubt myself, I think about how hard you push yourself, and I just…” He’s sniffling now. “Fuck.”

“Yuuji?” you ask, and you turn to look at his face, but he’s wiping it against his hoodie. When he turns to face you, he smiles weakly, and there’s tears rolling down his face.

“I don’t want to lose you, alright?”

You hug him tighter—tighter than you ever have before. “You get scared? I can’t imagine…”

“I do!” he whines back at you, before rubbing his nose against his sleeve again. “Fuck.”

“Yuuji!” you shout out, and he laughs back at you.

“God, I love you,” he mumbles, before nuzzling the bottom of your chin. “I love how strong you are, I love how hard you work, I love how you push yourself to do your best. I love how much you care, I love how much you want to do the right thing.”

You bunch your shoulders up instinctively, pouting your lips. “It’s not…you don’t think it’s pathetic I’m anxious all the time?”

Yuuji chuckles weakly, and now his face is on your chest. His eyes are closed, and he looks at peace. “If you weren’t, it wouldn’t be you. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

If you liked this story, please give the post a reblog, or send me another request :)

Thanks for reading!

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 68: Brewing Trouble

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

I lay in bed for nearly a week. Hired nurses stop in every so often to help bathe me despite my protest. No doubt there’s going to be an ugly scar. When I’m finally able to be mobile again I thank Thomas and drive back down to see Ada, who’s been calling nonstop to apologize for how we left things. I park my car just in time to see Finn walking out the door. At first he waves and shows a friendly smile when Dílis wanders up to him but loses his confidence when I approach.

“Finn. Thomas told me everything. "I give a quick head shake. " I am so disappointed.”

He recollects what I’m referring to and his eyes widen. “Verena-”

“You have become just like the rest. Cocaine, whiskey, whores. Have you forgotten all I taught you? Did every ounce of common sense drip out of your thick head?”

He swallows nervously. “I was only-”

“There are no excuses,” I state firmly. “I prepped you to be a decent, knowledgeable man who could have found a respectable lady. Now the only girls who will chase you will be after your Shelby benefits.”

Finn tries one more time. “Verena. Please.”

I shake my head with pity. “It truly does hurt me to see you turn into this. You are your own person but I hold the deed to the house on Watery Lane.” My eyes narrow. “That is still my house. I will not have you screwing girls in my house. Do I make myself clear?”

He nods shakily and swallows again. “I’m really sorry.”

“I’m sure you are. You are better than this, Finn. My lessons won’t do you any good now. Komm, Dílis.” 

I stride past the saddened Shelby and up to the house. Dílis wanders inside but stays close, smelling everything in sight. 

“Ada?” I call out.

Grrr. Dílis stands facing the parlor, where a tall man in a crisp suit walks out.

“Ah! You must be Verena. Ada told me to tell you that she had a meeting that’s running late but she’ll be here later.” 

My face sparks in an a-ha moment. “So then you must be Mr. Younger, Ada’s boyfriend.”

“Ben, please.” He holds out a hand and we shake. “Glad to meet you.”

“You as well!”  Dílis growls again and I pull on his collar. “Ruhig.” He stops and takes a seat on the rug. “Sorry about that. He’s been on edge since my incident.”

Ben waves it off. “Not to worry. I’m sorry to hear about your attack. From the looks of things I say your dog is very devoted to you.”

I smile and scratch the canine’s ears. “Yes, Dílis is a very dear friend.” A discarded chess board on the tea table catches my eye. “I see Karl captured you in a game of chess.”

Ben chuckles. “You could say that. He’s brilliant. Right now he went to get lunch. I just wish he’d talk to me.”

My face falls. “What did he do?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Ben admits lightly. “He just prefers to remember his own father because he was white.”

My body stiffens. The thought of color hadn’t even occurred to me when I first saw him. First Finn loses his head, now Karl needs a telling off? Do I need to act as a punisher for all Shelby boys?

“He said that? Hold on,” I request tightly and begin marching down the hall towards the kitchen.

“Verena, it’s really not-” Ben tries to assure me.

“That was disrespectful of him. I am not afraid of a teenager.”

I push open the door and see the boy seated at the table. He looks over with a mouthful of his sandwich, almost surprised to see me like this.

“Karl. Did you really say those things to Mr. Younger?” He doesn't answer, which is all the proof I need. “Apologize.”

Karl swallows his food and crosses his arms. “Make me.”

Very well. I stomp over and grab a hold of his shirt. Smack! Moeder always says a smack on the head is a good wake-up call.

“Bloody Hell-!” Karl yells.

“Do not speak like that. Go to your room or you will feel some serious pain. Now!”

The boy jumps away and scrambles out of the room. There’s a commotion of him climbing the stairs and I hear his bedroom door shut. Poor Ada. She must be having trouble raising a teenager by herself.

“I didn’t take you for an advocate for discipline,” Ben speaks up when I walk back to the parlor.

“My parents are kind to my broers and I. But they did not hesitate to inflict corporal punishment when we misbehaved.” I take a seat next to Dílis. “I am so sorry about that, Ben. I would’ve thought that he would have known better.”

Over the next half hour we get to talking about odds and ends topics. Ben has many questions about America, specifically about our different foods. It amazes him how one country has so many different choices. After a while we hear the door open and Ada pokes her head in.

“Good. You’re here,” she cheers when she sees me. “And you met Ben?”

“Yes, and I’m afraid I have to get going,” Ben apologizes and reaches for his coat, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. “I’ll see you next time.”

We both wait for him to leave and Ada sits down across from me, rubbing her head.

“You haven’t told Ben about the baby yet?” I ask after a few seconds.

She sighs. “Not yet. How are you doing?”

I point to my wound. “Healing as fast as I can.”

“By the way, thank you so much for being nice.”

My face scrunches in confusion. “Um. Thank you?”

Ada whips her head up and I swear she looks like she’s about to explode. “Gina is the most snippity American I have ever met. And you saw how appalled I was back in Boston! She tops all of them! Do you know what she told Polly?” She rolls her eyes. “Said she wants to take Michael and the baby back to Long Island. Polly too.”

That actually sounds like an improvement. Michael keeps out of Thomas’ hair and we never have to see them again. But I would miss Polly. This chick has guts if she thinks we’ll let them slip away again.

“Speaking of,” Ada continues. “Thomas has arranged for a ballet performance tomorrow night, for Lizzie’s birthday. I can’t make it.” She gestures to me. “You’re invited too, of course. Everyone will be there.”

I give her a strange look. “That sounds more like a warning.”

She glares at me with perturbed eyes and smacks her lips. “It is. ‘Everyone’ includes all of Tommy’s business associates.”

My face mirrors her dull enthusiasm. “Ah.”

So this birthday celebration is more of an enterprise gala. Poor Lizzie.

Oh no. Oh no no no. Ada was right. This party is crawling with stiffs in suits. Snobby, rich people who I have no intention of socializing with, and I’m sure they have no desire to socialize with me. Instead of buying a new dress I decided to dust off one of Ada’s old ones. Nothing as fancy as these folks but why should I waste money on a dress when it can be used for better purposes?

I catch sight of the crowded hallway and instantly reach for a champagne flute. Michael and Gina are here too. Um, why? If this is Polly’s idea of managing the high tension then she has the wrong idea. So far the only perks about this are the fancy spread, seeing the pretty ballerina costumes, and chatting with the maids. They’re not too thrilled either.

“Ruhig, Dílis,” I mutter and pull him closer. “It’s going to be a long night.”

There’s Thomas. He’s putting up with this high society act too. His eyes find mine and he weaves through the pristine suits and gowns to reach me.

“Glad to see you made it.” He eyes my glass. “And you already found a drink.”

I need no excuse for that. “Hello, Thomas. I hope you don’t mind that I’m a tad late.”

“No problem. We’re glad you could make it. There’s someone who’s been looking for you.”

Thomas points to someone behind me and I spin around to search. Is that-?

“Liam?” I gasp.

Liam is wearing a suit? It’s not even Sunday! 

“There she is,” he acknowledges and hugs me while I’m still speechless. “My sweet young zuster, whom I have been informed was stabbed a few days ago.”

Oh no. Here we go. The older brother rant about keeping me safe. As if being trapped in this party of snippety socialites isn’t punishment enough.

“Liam, not now-” I groan.

“No!” He points a warning finger at me and grabs Thomas’ jacket when he tries to walk away. “I am not going to allow anything else to happen to my zuster! My job is to protect you!”

“Oh, and you did such a good job doing that!” I sneer dramatically. “Where were you, then? I’ve been here, there, and everywhere, and you’ve never bothered to even say hallo! The only reason I knew you were around is because Thomas told me!”

Liam flashes an angry glare at Thomas. “I told you not to tell her!”

He stays cold and stern. “She deserves to know.”

“You stay out of this!” I warn, directing my narrowed eyes at him. “Don’t think I haven't spotted your own men tailing me too! Now, instead of bickering about past events like children, I am going to have fun tonight. Because this is a party.”

I start walking away and Liam starts to protest. “Zus-”

“Come on, Liam! Show off your American spirit!” I gasp dramatically and forcefully hand him a full glass.

He looks back and forth between me and the drink. “I-”

“Go. Now!” I point.

Both men glance at each other and shuffle back into the crowd, leaving me with Dílis. So Liam thinks that because I got stabbed that he has to play full bodyguard now? No. I don’t think so. We were taught to look out for each other but also how to handle our own. 

I allow Dílis to lead me outside to where some tables have been set. I’ve been here less than an hour and fresh air is already tempting. The canine lies down next to me and perks his head up.

Arf!

In the direction he’s looking I see a familiar-looking man with a mustache. That’s- That’s Mr. Gold. Bonnie’s father. My, he’s cleaned up. He’s trimmed his long hair and is wearing a clean tux instead of a trenchcoat. Polly will be so happy to see him! I really should talk to him.

“Mr. Gold,” I speak up and walk Dílis over. The man looks up and offers a smile when he recognizes me. “Mr. Gold, I am so sorry for your loss. Bonnie was a wonderful man. He was taken too soon. I know there is nothing I can do or say to bring him back. I can only offer words of sympathy.”

The man takes in my message and holds both hands out to grab mine. Dílis lets out a whine but doesn’t sense danger. Mr. Gold keeps his smile and watches me with a bittersweet gaze.

“Your visit is plenty, Ms. Steenstra.”

Now it’s my turn to smile. “My appearance will pale in comparison to the one coming later.”

There’s a noticeable spark in his eyes. “Ms. Gray?”

“Bingo.” I lean in and whisper: “I heard there is to be a wedding in the near future.”

Mr. Gold chuckles and eyes the doorway to the house. “I plan to propose tonight. I pray to God she says yes.” He pauses and looks back at me. “You and Bonnie would have been good for each other. But you knew you couldn’t love him like you do Tommy. Thank you for sparing his heart.”

A lesson I was taught very well. “Unlike Mr. Shelby I know not to ignite false hope. Enjoy the evening’s performance, Mr. Gold.”

“You as well, Verena.”

We both head inside and are thrown into the loud chattering. He walks off to find a seat and I look over to see Lizzie leaning against the wall with a deep scowl on her face. It can’t be because of anything I did because I just got here. Is she upset that Thomas invited me? No matter. I should be nice and wish her a happy birthday before I leave. It will prove that I am not allowing her to scare me away.

“Komm, Dílis.” 

We inch around the schmoozing guests. Lizzie, blending in well with her shimmering grey gown, notices us and stiffens. Does she think I’m going to sick my dog on her?

“Hello, Lizzie. Before you stab me with a cocktail stick I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”

The dark-haired Shelby wife stares for a while, then takes a big sip of her drink. “Get me the fuck out of here.”

She’s asking me for help? “Pardon?”

Lizzie downs the rest of her champagne and nearly shatters the glass when she slams it on the table. “Conjure up some excuse and get me out of this fucking place.”

Grr. Dílis tenses up at her tone and glares up at her.

I shake my head. “I don’t understand-”

“My dear husband invited a man I used to know without telling me. That’s him there.”

She points to a man who appears to be flirting with one of the dancers. He looks just like any other vaunting bloke here. Mustache, suit, and a less-than-subtle sense of thinking he is worth more than everyone here. It doesn’t take much to guess how Lizzie was affiliated with him.

“That’s all he fucking does,” she drones about Thomas. “Has everyone listen to what I’m doing but I never hear a word from him.”

And she used to see this as something to gloat about? She was the one who always loathed me for wanting to be involved.

“Now you know how it feels to be left in the dark. I wish I could say it goes away, but then again I’m still here aren’t I?”

More silent seconds of staring. “I still don’t understand why.”

I look down and start leading Dílis away. “Neither do I. Perhaps we’re both at a loss.”

Behind me I feel Lizzie still watching me. “Your new dog will show more affection than he ever will.”

So we are at an impasse. Lizzie can no longer taunt me for losing. She got what she wanted and now she’s miserable. Maybe Thomas is not the caring man I pinned him for. Or he is still unhappy with himself. Whatever doubts he has should be no concern of mine.

“Hello, there.”

Fate must have a sense of humor. It’s Lizzie’s old flame.

“My name is Mosley. And you are?”

I offer no smile but still partake in a formal courtesy. “Ms. Steenstra, sir.”

Mr. Mosley tilts his head in response to my accent, looking down at me. “Another American. In a secondhand dress. What brings you to this gathering?”

Keep your temper down. “I am Mr. Shelby’s head of foreign affairs.”

My blood starts to boil as Mosley’s mouth curls into a smirk and I start to feel disgusted. “For the company or your own country? Do you represent what types of American goods spawn from there?”

He’s not talking about inadequate goods. He means flesh goods. That’s crossing a line. “Gib Laut.”

Ruff! Ra-raw-ra! Dílis lets out a low snarl, keeping Mosley at bay with a look of shock.

I pat the skirt of my dress. “I’ve got a gun. I am not afraid to use that gun.” I nod at Dílis. “I have a dog. I am not afraid to sick him on you. Especially if you keep looking at me like that. Step aside.”

I follow Dílis as he trots past Mosley with a snarl and before we’re out of earshot I distinctly hear:  “…Uncultured… rustic.” Yes, do think that, Mosley. The more you think of me as a lunatic American then the farther away you will stay. I do not need an aristocratic critique of me. As Nathaniel told me I’ve already made a sturdy name for myself, no money required.

In the background I see that Liam has finally gotten into the swing of the party. Here and there are a few familiar faces but for the most part I’m still being looked through by these affluent people. However there are two pairs of eyes that are watching me from behind that corner.

“Hello, Charlie!” I peek my head around and see the two kids crouched next to a table.

Charlie gasps. “Veena!”

I kneel down and wave. “Hello, Ruby. Remember me?”

"Yes." The young girl, looking to have grown some trust for me, keeps looking at Dílis. “You brought a dog!”

"Ruby, this is Dílis." The canine leans forward and licks the girl’s nose. “Are you both ready for Christmas?”

Both children nod eagerly. “Yeah!”

I notice they’re each in their nightclothes and give them a sneaky side glance. “Are you two hiding back here for a reason?”

Ruby’s face falls, thinking they’re in trouble. “Daddy says we’re not allowed to see the ladies dance. I wanted to see them dance.”

Oh, poor girl. I can understand why Thomas would keep them away from these people, but why crush a girl’s dreams of seeing a ballerina? These two should be allowed some holiday fun too. If the maids can watch then they should be able to as well.

I inch closer and whisper: “Then how about I sneak you backstage, eh?”

Charlie’s brow scrunches. “Backstage? It’s just our house!”

“Then let’s pretend it’s backstage,” I tease and grab their hands, leading around a tall curtain.

We find a hidden spot behind a tall vase and wait for the show to start. The lights dim and a hush falls over the gathered audience out front. Beautiful golden lights have been arranged for a colorful yet dramatic setting. Graceful dancers take to the stage in their pure white costumes, waltzing and carrying out grand jeté en tournant to elegant violin music. In quick glances I scan the crowd for the Shelbys. Arthur’s already fallen asleep. Where did Polly go..? Ah. Good timing, Mr. Gold.

The performance carries on and I halfway notice Arthur getting up. Thomas rises and follows to where he just left. The ballet ends with the bittersweet dancer crumbling to the ground. Red silk gets pulled from her dress, showing a deeply creative display of the end of hope. The crowd applauds and I peek over to see Ruby’s overjoyed face as she claps too.

Bang!

What the Hell-? That was a gunshot. That’s not part of the show. Are we under attack? Is someone dead? Lord, not another death.

I gently tug on the kids’ sleeves and start getting up. “Charlie, Ruby, let’s get you to bed now.”

Charlie is tired of ballet but Ruby wants to keep watching. “Aw. Please-?”

“I let you watch the dancers. Now it’s time for bed, oké?”

The children shuffle down the empty hall while Dílis chases them. I take one last look and see Lizzie running for the front door. Whatever new misfortune has fallen, someone needs to keep Charlie and Ruby out of it. I follow them upstairs and see them dive under their bedspreads.

“Bleib,” I order and the dog lies down between the kids’ beds. “I’ll leave Dílis with you two and be back later to check on you. Right now you two need to sleep. Oké?”

Ruby frowns. “What’s that mean?”

“It means ‘okay,’” Charlie guesses. “Right?”

“Right, Charlie. Now go to sleep. Goedenacht.”

I shut the door and sprint back down the steps, trying not to trip on my dress. The guests are still seated. In a split second I see Thomas disappear into the dining room. I follow him and watch as Arthur carries someone to the table. Blood drips from a bullet hole in her arm. It’s… Linda? They clear the table and lay her down, but she jolts up and tries attacking Arthur.

“What’s going on?” I blurt, not sure of how to help.

Polly sees me watching. “She tried to shoot Arthur. So I shot her.”

“Help me hold her down!” Lizzie urges.

We both rush over and each take an arm, attempting to keep Linda still. But like everyone else in this family she’s stubborn. 

“Linda, I would have taken your bullet! I deserve the bullet!” Arthur groans, holding his head.

Polly pulls out a coat and begins wrapping her legs. Linda jerks upright and tries to hold away the pain.

“An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth!”

Thomas leans over her and grips her face. “Linda! Look at me. You’ve got a kid. If you die, he’ll come to us to raise.”

Arthur kneels down to assure his wife as Thomas begins addressing the wound. I do my best to keep a firm grip on Linda’s arm.

“Mr. Shelby. Your guests…” Mosley’s voice comes from the hall. Can’t he take a fucking hint?

“Family only!” Thomas orders. “Arthur, get him out.”

Mosley persists. “Mr. Shelby-”

Arthur gets up and points a gun straight at Mosley’s head. “Get out!”

“Liam!” I shout, knowing he is not far. My broer grimly marches in and sees me holding Linda. “Get him out!”

Liam spots Mosley and, without a word, passively pushes the bloke out of the room. The nerve of that klootzak! 

“Lizzie, get some morphine iodine,” Thomas says as Polly hands him a cloth napkin. “Linda, you’re going to have to bite on this. It’s really gonna hurt.”

He pours whiskey on the wound and Linda shrieks at the top of her lungs. I put all of my weight on her to keep her from moving while Arthur holds her head. Once the bullet is removed Arthur starts muttering, still blaming himself. Thomas stands up and pats his broer on the shoulder.

“Arthur, go get yourself some opium. Verena, we need more whiskey.”

“On it.”

I sprint out and race to the kitchen, dodging maids and servants around every corner. When I get there I demand whiskey from the kitchen workers. They scramble down a set of stairs and in less than two minutes I’m racing back with three bottles in my arms. When I return I see they’ve got Linda drugged with her head resting on a pillow. Arthur’s hugging her head as if he’s afraid she’ll disappear.

“She’s going to be fine,” Thomas promises.

Arthur lets out a muffled sob. “You should have let her do it, Pol!”

Thomas grips his arm and pulls him away, forcing Arthur to face him. “Arthur! Listen to me! You got things to do. You got a kid. We need you. You hear me?”

“Aberama wants you as best man,” Polly adds from behind us.

Arthur tries to laugh and Thomas hugs him closer. “You hear that?”

Polly huffs and takes one of the bottles I’m holding to pour herself a drink. “I save his life, he hugs him.”

I attempt a bewildered smile. “You’re engaged?”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh stop it, Verena. You knew all along just like Ada.”

“I’m so happy for you, Polly!”

By now Lizzie’s returned with the morphine and Arthur offers to dress the wound. With that we leave the troubled husband to attend to Linda, filing back into the hall. Surely there’s going to be a family meeting about this-

“Verena,” Liam’s voice calls from where the guests are. “You better come hear this.”

My face darkens at his serious tone and I join him, looking over to see Mosley standing in front of the audience of aristocrats, servants, and dancers.

“What’s happening now?” I whisper dreadfully.

“...I have some news. Good news, I think. I’m sure our host will forgive me if I use this platform to give you an early announcement of a long overdue event. I want to tell you good folk first that with the dawn of a new decade I will be setting up a new political movement here. In the very heart of England. And Mr. Shelby will be with me shoulder to shoulder. It will offer a new conception of politics in which the character of the British, our true character, will be reborn.”

The guests cheer and applaud but all Liam and I can do is stare blankly at his hintingly threatening words. How deep of a socialist is this man? Is he talking about-?

“Many of you lost fortunes in the recent stock market crash. The men of money, the capitalists in New York, the Jews. The efforts of laboring men have equipped our competitors against us.”

Zipporah’s kind face flashes past, then Uncle Colon, then all of the employees in vader’s shop. He’s talking about them. Mosley is slandering and discrediting the very people I work with and love. 

I turn away and seek out Thomas, Lizzie, and Polly standing apart from the crowd. “Thomas. What is he leading to?” He merely looks at me with a sad, empty face, offering no answer. “Polly-?” I panic.

Mosley speaks again. “This party, this new movement, this revolution will be called the British Union of Fascists.”

My stomach drops and the noise of praises and applauding echoes in my ears. They’re cheering for this madman? Hearing him threaten the very world we live in and Thomas is doing nothing?

“Do you hear him?” I plead, my face still frozen in shock. “How can you listen to that? He is mocking the very foundation of my country’s system. My vader’s business. He speaks of facism!”

Lizzie, having kept quiet, comments: “What the fuck are you doing dealing with a man like that, Tommy?”

“I second that. I want to know why the Hell I’m still working for a man who’s associating with a fascist!”

Thomas keeps a grim face and reaches for a cigarette. “You’re gonna have to trust me.”

Polly isn’t convinced. “Again.”

No. No. This is too far, even for me. It’s not just about me anymore. This ‘plan’ or whatever Thomas is cooking up is going to hurt many more people. Many more people. It’s not just a matter of the heart now. It’s about conquering morality. How can he even allow himself to sink this far?

“I am not staying around to discuss anything with that man,” I declare darkly and start walking back. “He is a complete klootzak.”

“Where are you going?” Polly asks when Thomas doesn’t answer.

“To see the children before I go. It's Christmastime, after all."

Now he speaks. “Verena-”

“Do not start, Thomas. That man is just like those who are driving people like Zipporah out of Germany. If he comes near me again I will punch his lights out.”

Before I make it to the hallway I hear Lizzie behind me. “I’ll talk to him.”

I swallow part of my growing anger. “Please do. If he keeps this up I will end my employment and return with my uncle so he can talk some fucking sense into him.”

If Thomas was uncomfortable around Uncle Colon when he’s having a good day then he is in for a real treat when I tell him about Mosley. Of all people I expected Thomas Shelby to work with, he is the furthest I could have guessed. 

“Verena!” Liam jogs up and points to where Mosley just walked off. “Did you hear-?”

“Loud and clear. Come on.” 

I show him up the stairs and quietly peek into the bedroom. Both kids are sound asleep, along with my hond.

“Komm, Dílis.”

The canine’s head perks up and he trots over to me. We all make our way to the exit and bundle up before heading into the chilly night. The glow of the decorative lights cast ghostly shadows as we pile into my car.

“You got a dog?” Liam asks when he looks at Dílis in the backseat.

“Yes. And from what I’m told he will offer the companionship I need,” I mutter as I begin driving down the gravel road.

Liam pauses for a minute. “How was Abel?”

My heart clenches again. “Troubled. And that man who just spoke is going to lead to far more trouble for everyone.”

@sherbitdibdab @meadows5

[cripplecharacters]

I don’t really know if the is the best place to ask, so if you have suggestions for other places to ask please tell me. But I’m trying to figure out if it would be ok to give a character vitiligo. She is the god of the sky who has been cast out and forced to live in a human body as punishment for something (im still figuring out the lore, but whatever she did probably has to do with the fact the world has no more light when the story begins) but basically I’m thinking well she was a god she had clouds and stars on her skin, and it kinda feels like vitiligo might just kinda fit? I’m not super good at explaining things I’m sorry. but I’m really weary of accidentally like making disability and magic feel too intertwined kinda? Sorry I’m bad at phrasing things

One of the things I’ve thought to kinda help with any of the potential problems include making sure to include regular characters with vitiligo as well, so it’s just part of the world (I’d probably do this regardless, I’m determined to just have a lot of disability representation throughout the world, mobility aids, facial differences, dwarfism, etc just throughout the world)

I’m also a bit worried because I know in the research I’ve done two of the biggest ways I’ve seen people talking about it effecting them is bullying and ablism something I just don’t want in my fantasy world as a disabled person and also just like who in their right mind would be mean to a god over how her skin looks. And light sensitivity a thing that seems like it might be odd for the goddess of the sky to have

this is getting long and so I think I’ll leave it here

Hey!

Suggestion on other places to ask : @/vitiligo-is-not-a-trend, since we don't have any mods with vitiligo.

The concept of the character having a visual representation of her celestial body on her human one is pretty cool, but you are probably right in worrying about the aestheticization (is that a word?) of her condition. Especially if you want it to be in shapes that vitiligo doesn't really happen in, like well, stars. It's a visual trope at this point, just like hearts or whatever else.

The thing is, there's a ton of various skin conditions and very little of them have this as a potential issue. I know that there's barely any skin conditions that are considered pretty or cool in any way whatsoever, but you can choose from the ones that aren't that too. Hell, you could give them acne to represent stars. It would be interesting to have it shown as a thing that a god character could have and not something that only comes with ugly teenage boy characters or offensive caricatures of fat people. If my outbreaks happened in star shapes it'd be pretty cool. Or unique at least. If you want something that comes with patches, psoriasis is also right there. A lot of people have it, and I've never seen it depicted as a neutral (let alone positive) thing that people have. It doesn't have the "aestheticization" problem that vitiligo rep does, even though it can literally come with white patches on the skin as well.

Regardless of this specific character, it's always good to have regular characters with vitiligo and other visible conditions. But if you want this character to have it, especially in shapes that it doesn't actually come in, with magic symbolism, I'd advise rethinking this idea and/or asking someone who actually has vitiligo.

mod Sasza

[weirdkpopgirl]

Better | Jisung Imagine #4

Title: Better

Genre: Angst

Warnings: mentions of self-harm, mental struggles

Word Count: 867

Author's Note: I wrote this last week I think, and I apologize for posting something so dark again. I do have some lighter stuff I plan to write in the near future. Something I noticed in writing these type of stories is kind of me just talking to myself through the characters. I don't know, I guess it's kinda selfish and pathetic. But I wrote this from the perspective of someone witnessing their loved one going through a hard time, and I could see Jisung in this specific scenario. Thank you for reading and if it can comfort any of you, then I hope it does ^ ^

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With a sigh, Jisung drowsily let his phone drop to the coffee table, retiring from the mobile game he had been playing. He then rose from the couch and made his way to the kitchen, seeking your presence. Mere seconds later he caught the sight of you gracefully packing away the leftovers from dinner into clear airtight containers. 

Usually, watching you perform these tasks with such ease brought comfort to him. Oftentimes Jisung felt you were more like his mom than his girlfriend. Despite him being older by two years, you consistently made an effort to take care of him. Whether it be through doing his laundry on the weekends, buying him bunggeobang when he was having a bad day, or when you made him home-cooked meals so that he didn’t eat take-out all the time. Your actions were always so nurturing, and your eyes always brimmed with joy as he ate.

However, observing you tonight didn’t bring him the usual sense of domestic tranquility that usually filled the atmosphere. Instead, there was this deep, sadness that gnawed at his stomach and traveled up his throat.

It was the way you momentarily paused what you were doing. Then the slight hesitation that crossed your expression before your hand gripped the edge of your sleeve to vigorously drag the fabric up and down your forearm. Jisung despised how familiar that habit had become to him, one he had witnessed too many times before now. Your actions could only be a sign of the physical manifestation of the pain you carried as a result of the endless thunderstorm in your mind.

Jisung wanted to say something, he always did in these moments. But each time his tongue stilled, because he was weighed down by his own emotions. He knew what it was like to struggle mentally, yet he couldn’t think of the best way to express his concern without sounding like he was judging you.

However, Jisung knew he couldn’t stand around doing nothing. He stayed still for a moment though, watching you return to collecting the containers and turning around to store them in his refrigerator. Once the fridge door was closed again, your brows furrowed in frustration one more as you rubbed your arm again. You seemed more annoyed with the irritation beneath your skin than the fact that you had intentionally hurt yourself. This realization only made Jisung’s heart sink further.

After taking a deep breath, Jisung decided now was the time to act. His footsteps were barely audible against the tiled floor. Walking up from behind you, he wrapped his arms around your waist in a gentle back-hug. Your body initially tensed at the unexpected affection. But once you recognized it was just your boyfriend, you instinctively leaned back against him.

A few seconds passed before Jisung cautiously extended his arm out to tug at your sleeve. When you didn’t say anything, he slowly rolled it up, the kitchen light immediately drawing attention to the angry red lines scattered across your pale skin. Just a glimpse made his heart break into a million pieces.

Jisung felt your head lower, diverting your gaze to the dark countertop. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, biting your lip. “That you have to see this horrible, ugly side of me.”

Following your quiet apology, Jisung gently turned you around to face him. His heart broke at the emptiness in your expression, almost as if you were used to this sort of reaction. Even though you were standing in his arms, there was this distance you were trying to maintain with him. More than anything, Jisung wanted to reach out, pull you close and never let go. Never let you go, ever.

“I just want you to get better, (Y/n),” his voice wavered, unable to suppress his emotions any longer. However, Jisung knew it was almost futile to say these words to you. Deep down the both of you knew that you didn’t share the same desire for yourself as he did.

Yet, tears started to form when you managed to meet his gaze. Most likely because you could see the heartbreak in his eyes, he thought. Then, unexpectedly, you were the one embracing him, burying your face in his chest.

“I’m sorry Jisung,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his sweatshirt. “I’m so sorry.”

Those words left your mouth repeatedly between your sobs. It didn’t take long for Jisung to feel his own tears stream down his cheeks, mingling with yours. The two of you stood there, holding each other tighter than you ever had before. Although he knew you weren’t on the same page as him, the silent understanding that you loved each other was the connection.

And as you cried together in the middle of the kitchen at 10:37 p.m., all Jisung could hope for was that showing his support for you more often would do something. He knew that he couldn’t take your pain away entirely, but in these moments all you needed was someone to hold you. He needed to remind you that you weren’t alone.

Maybe, and just maybe, his love would be enough to encourage you to get better.

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