#relationship protector

[ijustwannamakeemojis]

[ID: Nine small pixel hearts of system role flags in order, host, ocd symptom holder, relationship protector, multisourced, audeomate, translator, hypersexual symptom holder, battery and drainer. End ID]

Tumblr makes them bigger than they actually are click to see correct size or check out the rentry in the pinned post

Coiner/Flag Maker

@the-silent-fellowship Host, Translator, Hypersexual Holder

@revenant-coining Audeomate

@archangel-level-coining (Inactive?) Battery, Drainer

??? ocd symptom holder, relationship protector, multisourced

[ambrosiagourmet]

I think one of the biggest tragedies of Laios & Falin and their relationship is how much his actions impact her life. But like. Specifically how much they WOULDN’T impact her life as much if they weren’t both stuck in such a shitty abusive situation.

This part of the Falin-tries-makeup daydream hour comic is what got me thinking about it again because truly it just... it seems like such a like an offhand comment that I'm sure Laios didn't mean to be cruel or anything. That's just like. A little kid not thinking about what they are saying. ESPECIALLY when the kid in question is Laios.

But man they depended on each other SO much as kids. Too much. It really feels like they didn't have any other source of positive reinforcement, or anyone else to share themselves with. So of course an offhand comment like that has a huge impact on Falin.

Or this little bit from one of the flashbacks:

This tears me apart. Do you think it tears him apart to think about? I think it does. I think Laios holds every small failure to care for Falin against himself.

And then there's the Bigger stuff. The way that him coping with his own trauma ended up impacting her.

Like his interest in monsters. Like him going to find a ghost, and accidentally revealing Falin's magic to the whole village in the process.

Like him needing to leave. And leaving her behind.

He shaped her life so much, and he carries so much guilt for it. And again, there should have been other people there to help. The same things that made Laios need to leave home are the things that made his leaving so hard on Falin. She ate alone after that. She shouldn't have had to eat alone just because Laios wasn't there.

She was 9 when he left for school, and he was 11.

Nine. And Laios feels like he failed her because he didn't stand by her through this better. As an eleven year old.

Both of these kids deserved so much better from the world.

[onionninjasstuff]

carrying each other :з

[red-garden]

Qi Qingqi is not often sent out in missions with Shen Qingqiu, thank the heavens. Unfortunately, they are the spy masters of Cang Qiong, and there are occasions where they must collaborate.

After a handful of moles in a forest demon court were discovered, both were dispatched to infiltrate and rescue them. The mission went smoothly of course, they’re peak lords after all. The disciples were sent back on various secret routes. Shen Qingqiu handled the demon diplomacy while she liberated the spies. As long as they could fly back without killing each other, everything should be fine. Right?

Everything was not fine. Shen Qingqiu was not reacting well to some of the food he had to eat. The sect leader would tear Qi Qingqi a new asshole if she flew back to the sect without him, so she had to walk with him from town to town for li upon li. Of course a qi deviation was bound to happen, the Qing Jing peak lord’s cultivation was held together by twine. What she didn’t expect was the state the deviation would leave him in.

Once the sparking and flickering subsided, there was a very small, very gaunt boy wearing the peak lord’s clothing.

The boy was shaking. He asks where he is, and where his master went. He asks if he’d been sold again. Qi Qingqi says she doesn’t understand. The boy explains in a state of panic that he needs to find Qiu Jianluo as soon as possible if he doesn’t want to die, and he doesn’t want to die.

He says his name in Shen Jiu.

And he looks like a hundred girls Qi Qingqi has personally bought the contracts of.

He starts to calm down when she explains that if Qiu Jianluo is still alive, Shen Jiu has not seen him in many years. He grew to be a great cultivator, and he is usually much older than this.

Shen Jiu is a very timid child. He uses formal language obsessively, keeps his eyes down, and only speaks when spoken to. He’s rail thin. Where the too big robes spill off of him, mottled skin covered in a lattice of scars is quickly obscured by desperate hands.

He holds a fragile excitement about his future. Slowly, he asks questions about what sect he’s a part of, what his role is, what’s the name of his sword. He hasn’t learned to read the characters on the blade yet.

He asks Master Qi if she knows of another cultivator named Yue Qi.

Of course, that is the given name of zhangmen-shixiong. He entered the sect a little after Qi Qingqi did.

Shen Jiu smiles. He has the barest indent of dimples on his thin cheeks.

The journey back to the sect is interesting. Shen Jiu is cooperative enough to fly like this. He’s very quiet, barely clinging to Qi Qingqi’s robes. At one point he falls, leaning to see the city from above. He’s such a small thing, Qi Qingqi resolves to carry him. He barely weighs anything. He only whispers a thank you and wraps his arms around her neck, tucking his head under her chin. He makes himself so small, as if afraid to be noticed.

They fly straight to Qiong Ding. Shen Jiu hasn’t said much about the sect leader but Qi Qingqi’s suspicions have been aroused. She breezes through the line, little boy scrambling behind her awkwardly in his oversized clothing.

“Zhangmen-Shixiong, we need to talk now.”

He’s sitting at his desk as usual, Wei Qingwei apparently meeting with him. Qi Qingqi feels a tug on her skirts- Shen Jiu is standing behind her, shaking again.

“Qi-jie, where are we?”

Yue Qingyuan’s face goes white. He stands from his desk, neck craning to see the source of the voice. “Xiao Jiu?”

The boy peeks out, eyes wide. Wei Qingwei spots him too. “Shit, did Shen-Shixiong deviate?”

Yue Qingyuan leans over his desk, eyes pleading. “Does Xiao Jiu recognize me?”

Shen Jiu shrinks back, clutching Qi Qingqi’s skirts far more desperately. Qi Qingqi puts a hand on his arm. “You’re scaring him!”

Suddenly Qi Qingqi doesn’t feel as good bringing this child here. She turns around, scooping him up in her arms. “Zhangmen-Shixiong should finish his meetings. We’re going to Qian Cao and then home.”

[imvec]

Sequel to Sunshade

[hakunoknight]

i was never the child you wanted

father

[gossippool]

wade and logan being so protective of each other not because they can't die but exactly BECAUSE of that. because no one else thinks they need to be protected when really that's all they want, and this is something that only the other person fundamentally understands

[chefscaryguy]

ok I almost loved it even more when it was a surprise Working Class Solidarity Eliot episode that snuck up on me. In the The Work Study Job I just watched, his cover is working a custodian job on this university campus and he fully gets adopted by the Working Class folks of this university (who also hate the asshole professor mark). Eliot didn't even have to try to get in his obligstory Working Class Solidarity, Floyd is just That Guy who met him there with open arms. Teddy bear of man, Eliot's kryptonite fr.

Eliot's soft spots are kids, blue collar/working class folks, vets, and elderly men who are working for their community. Floyd's got almost all of that down. If Floyd showed Eliot a pic of his grandkids, or god forbid Eliot met them, that man would've been done for. I hope they get beers together on the reg after this ep fr

[sparkles-rule-4eva]

I wonder if Prime was referencing this 🥺

Do not tag as ship or I will duct-tape your toes to a 50 foot ceiling

[warriorofthought]

You, 3 Siblings and Bucky Part 2

Summary: You, the oldest, taking care of your three youngest siblings and you work one hour a week by Bucky. Word count: 2.093 Warnings: Fear, injuries, exhausted Bucky x Reader

You wake up stiff and cold in the hospital chair. It’s still dark, maybe five in the morning, and the floor is quiet except for the soft shuffle of nurses’ shoes and the occasional beep from a monitor down the hall.

Your sister is still asleep, breathing slow and even. The swelling on her head hasn’t gotten worse. That’s something. That’s enough to keep you from unraveling, barely.

You stretch, your back aching, and glance at your phone. Low battery. One missed call -from the restaurant. No message. That’s not a good sign.

You’ll deal with it later. Right now, you’ve got about an hour before you need to get back to the apartment and make sure the others are up and ready for school. You still have to walk them there. You can’t afford another call home from the principal about them being late again.

You write a note for the nurse, just in case your sister wakes up while you're gone, and slip quietly out of the room.

The early morning air hits your face like a slap. You walk fast, hands jammed into your jacket pockets, already calculating what time you'll need to be back, how to fit everything in. Drop the kids at school. Run to your cleaning shift—thank God it's only three hours today. Then maybe swing by the restaurant and beg for your hours back. Then return to the hospital.

Your thoughts are spinning too fast when your phone buzzes again.

A new message from Bucky.

"You sure you don’t want help? I meant it."

You stop walking.

You shouldn’t reply. You don’t want to owe anyone. You’ve survived this long without leaning on anyone but yourself. But there’s something in your chest, tight, aching, exhausted, that wants to believe someone might mean that.

Your fingers hover over the screen before you type:

“What kind of help?”

The answer comes quick:

“Groceries. Watching the kids. Rides. Whatever keeps you standing.”

You stare at the message. You don’t know why it hits you so hard, but it does.

You want to say no. You almost do.

But instead, you text:

“Could you maybe… pick up the kids from school today? I just... if the hospital keeps her another night…”

You don’t even finish the sentence as you send it.

Bucky replies:

“Tell me where and when.”

That’s all.

No questions. No pity. No lectures.

You blink hard and wipe your face with the back of your hand, then start walking again, faster this time, because now, you might actually have a minute to breathe.

Not because everything’s okay. Not because it’s fixed.

But because for the first time in a long time… You’re not carrying it completely alone.

You make it back to the apartment just as the sky starts to lighten. Miss Carla is already up - she answers the door in a robe, her hair wrapped in a scarf, and gives you a soft look when she sees your face.

“They were fine” she says, nodding toward the kitchen where your other two siblings are eating toast. “Did their homework. Brushed their teeth. They’re good kids.”

You thank her, again, and she waves it off. “You just focus on your little one, honey. I got these two covered if you need me.”

You want to cry again, but you don’t. You’re past crying. Past tired. Right now, you’ve got things to do.

You get the kids dressed, pack their lunches with whatever’s left in the fridge, some crackers, a few pieces of fruit, peanut butter sandwiches. It’ll have to do. As you're zipping backpacks and tying shoelaces, your phone buzzes.

Bucky: “I’ll be outside the school at 2:45. Let me know if anything changes.”

You stare at the message a moment before replying.

You: “Thank you.”

Just two words. You wish you had better ones. Bigger ones. But you're still learning how to ask. Still learning how to let someone help.

After walking the kids to school, you sprint to your cleaning shift, running on fumes and vending machine coffee. You mop floors, scrub stairwells, collect trash bags heavier than they should be. Every muscle aches, but you keep moving. The hospital bill is coming. Rent is due next week. You don’t have the luxury of slowing down.

By noon, you’re back at the hospital.

Your sister’s awake, groggy but alert, and coloring in a kids’ activity book one of the nurses brought. She looks up and smiles when she sees you. “Did you eat today?” she asks in a small voice, and you almost laugh, because even concussed, she’s worrying about you.

“Working on it” you tell her, ruffling her hair gently.

The nurse says she might be discharged tomorrow, as long as the next scan is clean. You nod, say “thank you,” ask if there’s anything she needs. But your mind is elsewhere, already skipping ahead. Groceries. Medicine. A plan for tomorrow.

At 2:30, your phone buzzes again.

A photo from Bucky.

Your two siblings, backpacks slung over their shoulders, standing next to his bike on the sidewalk. Both smiling like it’s just another normal day.

Then another message:

“Got them. They’re safe. Dropping them off at Carla’s unless you say otherwise.”

You stare at the photo, heart twisting. They look okay. Better than okay.

It hits you, again, how much of your life you’ve spent holding everything together with raw nerves and duct tape. And now, for once, someone has reached into the chaos- not to fix it, but to carry just one piece.

You breathe in deep and text back:

“Carla’s good. Thank you again.”

Then, before you can stop yourself, you add:

“I owe you.”

The reply comes fast:

“You don’t.”

And somehow, that’s what finally makes your throat tighten.

Because you’ve spent so long believing that everything comes with a cost. That needing help means being weak. That survival means staying silent.

But maybe, just maybe, it doesn’t have to. Maybe surviving doesn't mean doing it alone anymore.

You take the new job without thinking too hard about it. You can’t afford to.

It’s night shifts, stocking shelves at a 24-hour convenience store two subway stops from your apartment. Midnight to 4 a.m. Five nights a week. It’s quiet, mostly. Just you, the hum of fluorescent lights, and the sound of boxes being opened, stacked, moved. You don’t even tell anyone you’ve taken it. Not your siblings. Not Bucky. Definitely not Miss Carla.

The hospital bill had come folded twice, like that might soften the blow. It didn’t. You didn’t even finish reading the second page before flipping it over and shoving it in your drawer next to the other ones. But it doesn’t matter. You’re going to pay it. Like you always do.

Somehow.

You rearranged everything again - like a puzzle with pieces that don’t quite fit but have to. You extended your siblings’ after-school programs. Convinced a friend’s mom to let them hang around after dinner once a week. Promised them all you’d be home for bedtime. Lied.

And for a while, it works.

You stretch yourself thin, live off black coffee and vending machine crackers. You skip breakfast, sometimes lunch. You forget dinner until it’s midnight and your stomach turns at the thought of eating. Your hands start to shake sometimes, but you keep going. You keep moving. That’s what you do.

Until one day, your body stops moving for you.

It starts small. You’re walking home from the morning shift at the diner, you added that one too, just once a week, and suddenly the ground doesn’t feel like it’s under you anymore. Everything blurs around the edges. You think maybe you’re dreaming, but then the noise comes back too loud, too bright. Your knees buckle.

And then everything goes black.

When you come to, you’re in a place that smells like antiseptic and metal. Again.

Another hospital.

A nurse is speaking softly, asking your name. You're too tired to answer at first, but you nod.

Dehydration. Exhaustion. Malnutrition. That’s what they say.

You try to argue, but it’s a whisper, and they just shake their heads. "You need rest" the nurse says, “More than anything.”

You close your eyes again, guilt flooding your chest. The kids. Who picked them up? Did anyone notice? Did they eat? Are they scared?

Your phone buzzes weakly in your pocket, and the nurse sets it on your tray.

Two missed calls from Bucky. One from Carla. Ten unread texts.

And one new message, just now:

Bucky: "You didn’t show up at the school. Carla says you never got home. I’m at the hospital now. They wouldn’t tell me much, but I’m not leaving until I see you."

You stare at the screen, throat burning.

Then another message pops up:

"You don’t have to keep killing yourself just to prove you’re strong."

It cracks something open in you.

Because for the first time, someone sees you not as a burden, or a fighter, or a survivor but just a human being. One who needs rest. One who needs help.

One who doesn’t have to do this all alone.

You let the phone fall to your chest.

And for once, you stop fighting the sleep.

Because someone’s out there. Watching the door. Picking up the pieces.

Just until you’re strong enough again.

You wake to the sound of a chair scraping gently against the floor.

Your eyes open slowly, the world swimming in and out of focus before it settles. You’re still in the hospital, still wearing the paper-thin gown, still hooked up to an IV. But there’s someone sitting by your bed now.

Bucky.

He doesn’t say anything right away. He’s leaning forward, arms on his knees, watching you with a look you’ve never seen on his face before, tired, sure. But there’s something else underneath it. Worry. Frustration. Something heavier.

“You scared the hell outta me” he says finally, voice low. “I thought-” He cuts himself off, rubs a hand down his face. “Never mind.”

You try to sit up, but your body protests immediately, everything aching deep in your bones. Bucky moves quickly, one hand out, not touching but ready to catch you if you fall over. “Don’t. Just… stay down.”

You let yourself sink back against the pillow, jaw tight. “The kids…”

“They’re okay.” His voice softens. “I picked them up from school. Carla’s with them now. They had dinner. I made sure they brushed their teeth. They're safe.”

The pressure behind your eyes gets worse.

“I’m sorry” you whisper. “I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t” Bucky says firmly. “You don’t need to apologize for falling apart. Not when you’ve been holding the whole damn world on your back.”

You blink hard, trying to stop the tears before they come. You’re too tired for pride, but part of you still wants to act like you’re fine. That you can bounce back like always. But you can’t. Not this time.

He leans back in the chair, studying you. “You didn’t tell me anything. Not about the other jobs. Not about the hospital bill. Not about how little you were eating, or how close you were to dropping.”

“I didn’t want to make it your problem.”

Bucky shakes his head slowly. “You’re not a problem. You’re someone doing everything for everyone else. And it’s eating you alive.”

You don’t know what to say to that. You’ve never had anyone say it like that. With no pity, no judgment - just… truth.

“I’ve been trying to fix it” you say, barely audible. “I took more work. I figured if I could just hold out a little longer-”

“Longer until what?” he interrupts gently. “Until you break for good?”

You look away, ashamed. But then you feel something, warm, steady.

Bucky’s hand, resting over yours. Not pushing. Just there.

“Let me help” he says. “Not just for today. Not just when things fall apart. Let me be part of it. Not because I feel sorry for you. Because I see you. And you don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

You close your eyes. And for the first time in a long, long while, you believe someone when they say they’re not going to leave.

Not when it gets hard.

Not when it’s messy.

You nod, once. It’s all you can manage.

And Bucky doesn’t say anything else. He just stays there. Quiet. Solid. A presence in a world that’s taken too much from you.

Tomorrow, you’ll go home.

Tomorrow, you’ll face bills and work and all the pieces you still have to juggle.

But tonight?

Tonight, you rest.

And for the first time, you don’t rest alone, because Bucky is there.

Part 3

[loveundrwrld]

omg hiiiii i love ur writing smm <33 could i ask for a scenario of tanner x male reader where reader was super shy when he was bullied but years later tanner finds out he's somehow become a badass gang leader who wouldn't hesitate to beat his ex-bully up... i wonder what tanner's reaction would be to that hehe

also can i be 💖 anon? once again thank u <33

how sweet of you to say, thank you!! and to both your questions- yes, you may :) 💖 anon you shall be!

i will say, in his intro, seeing his darling act so reclusive and anxious after high school was what triggered him to rethink his actions- he wouldn't be quite as submissive towards him at first with his darling if he didn't go through that revelation. so tanner is a bit bitchy here since the "why is y/n acting like that"-> "oh no i've hurt him bad haven't i"-> "i'm in LOVE with him" process hasn't happened here.

thus, tanner is still in denial here :p and not as patient with his darling as he typically is

---

yandere ex-bully x gang leader male reader

(cws: violence (not against reader), organized crime, bullying, yandere is victim blaming, stalking)

tanner thought about you more often than he would ever care to admit. the shy, nervous boy he met in school who would cower from him like a scared puppy. something about you just made his hackles rise- he felt strange every time he'd seen you mumble and blush around him.

the strange feeling was annoyance, surely. you had been asking for attention, looking and acting the way that you did. you were always so shy and deferential around other people, always going along with being the butt of the joke. it was only natural that you were picked on a little.

but he'd matured since high school. he knew that bothering people and playing pranks on them was immature, no matter if you were basically asking for it. and if he'd seen you now he's sure you two would be polite and civil. you'd simply laugh and agree with him that he was a dick, and then you two could be best friends.

... or something. it wasn't like he thought about what meeting you again would be like.

and it was normal for people that went to the same high school to want to be curious about what their fellow past classmates had been up to, so he'd done some simple digging on you out of curiousity. nothing out of the ordinary. but you'd seem to have gone completely off the map, he'd not been able to find anything about you.

he was agitated that he couldn't learn more. he was worried for your safety, was all. i mean, you never posted anything online. for all he knew you could be dying or something. it was natural that he'd feel anxious right now.

but, he simply had to give up. he'd been trying to approach it from different angles, but he'd accepted that he'd reached a dead end.

except... until now. he was idly slouched over on the couch in front of his television, the news on as background noise. then, he perked up when he saw a familiar face come up on the screen.

it was your face that was glaring into the camera with a look of pure hatred, one that you certainly didn't have when he knew you.

good lord, what the hell happened to you?

"suspected gang activity in eastcliff- residents beware," the graphic read at the bottom of the screen.

he rushed to his laptop, wanting to check the arrest records for your shared state. he hadn't even considered this when he was looking up where you had been, it would have never have occurred to him that you would have gotten yourself in that much trouble.

and once the full report had loaded up? yes, it seemed that you actually were a criminal. you were arrested on a few charges but they got mysteriously dropped due to "unforeseen circumstances."

you hadn't been convicted of any felony charges yet, but he could tell that you were indeed involved in organized crime... somehow. and quite awfully high up in it, if you had corrupt police officers helping you escape any justice at all. it would have seemed like a laughable idea to him before, but he couldn't argue with what was right in front of him.

tanner scrunched his face up, his mind feeling blank from shock. how could this have happened? how could someone like you end up with such an... exciting life? how could you have turned out even more dangerous than him? his mouth felt dry, as a sense of bitterness seeped into him.

he didn't even know how to see what you were up to, to see why you turned out the way you did. surely you must have been forced into it. you couldn't have changed so much so fast otherwise. you were just a puppet with a nice face for the real people on top, obviously.

he felt a bit of bitter agitation, and tapped his leg as he thought. he couldn't live his whole life in mystery. he needed to know more about you.

there was one thing he could try...

---

it seems that his gambit to getting information about you had got your attention.

though, nothing could have prepared him from seeing you in front of him. you glared at him fiercely, your face so close to his that he felt your hot breath on his skin.

the eyes that used to be wide and quivering when you were younger were now narrowed and sharp. all he could see was the ice cold rage on your face. it was disorienting, to you someone shift into such a completely different person that you were nearly unrecognizable.

from a little puppy of a boy... to a fearsome wolf.

"of all the things you could do, tanner, you called my mother? don't you dare fuck with her," you growled at him, tugging hard at his shirt.

since when did you get balls? he felt that bubbling uneasy feeling he used to get whenever you were around him... only this time, it was stronger. he didn't like how this new you was effecting him.

you seemed much more dangerous than he was... and he didn't like it. wasn't it him who used to intimidate you? whatever happened to that?

he tried to laugh back at you, trying to stuff away any strange urges his brain was throwing at him.

"oh, come on- y/n, fuck with her? you're acting like i was trying to hurt her or something. i just called her. listen i know i was kind of a dick but really, you're making me out as the bad guy here and-"

you clocked him, hard on his temple. tanner stopped rambling and let out a small groan, the sharp throbbing pain causing him to fall down to one knee.

he opened his mouth to talk, but before he could say anything, you were already leaning down in his face.

"i don't want to hear from you ever again, you piece of shit. don't call or talk to me or my mother if you want all of your limbs intact. you may not know this, but i'm a big deal around here now. do not fuck with me," you say, your voice thick with anger.

for some reason... it felt like sparks and butterflies were running through him. something snapped inside his brain, connecting things. it occurred to him sudden why he had always felt so strange about you, why he was so obsessed with you.

you were hot. and this new you? strangely, he didn't dislike it at all.

"... got it," he said, breathily.

though, he didn't intend on keeping his promise.

[zyrahne]

hear me out. au where hap never dies n becomes a father figure to all the kids

[specific-dreamer]

stay gold is for darry too (except this is what i meant to say the first time b4 i got distracted)

“when you’re young and the world is new / it’s easy to forget when you’re trying just to make it through”

darry is 20 years old and for the first time he’s having to learn about bills and when to pay them and how to pay them, he’s having to learn about debt works and how long he can take to pay them back. he’s having to learn how to budget because suddenly he can’t take whatever change he has left at the end of the day to take his brothers to the rodeo or the bookstore, instead that change has to go to something more sustainable.

and darry has a one track mind. to him, since he has to play guardian, since he has to play parent, he’s not allowed to have fun anymore. he has to work day in and day out to keep his brother yes, but he’s also working so his brothers don’t have to work this hard. he’s working this hard in hopes that one day, hopefully in a year or so, they’ll have enough saved up so he can stop playing parent. he’s hoping they’ll have enough saved up so this child can stop walking in his dad’s enormous shoes and can finally be a kid again.

he’s opening at the end of this he can finally just be a friend and a brother again. the thing is though darry forgets. he forgets about the now. he forgets how sensitive his brothers are; soda makes a point for darry to know he can lean on him if he needs to, but sometimes darry gets a little to comfortable and forgets to remind soda the same. darry and pony used to be a whole lot closer before their parents died. but after darry forgets how sensitive he is; pony likes playing big and bold (like every 14 year old) so he’s forgets that pony really is just a baby. he forgets that pony lost his parents too at a really young age and needs a bit more comfort; darry forgets to offer that comfort.

darry never neglects his brothers, god no he doesn’t. in his mind, he eats dinner… most nights with them, he’s usually not back til late, eating dinner with the dim light above the stove. he sees them to bed though! he makes sure they’re all ready for bed and can find him if they need him, though pony has taken to finding soda instead which… is new.

[glitter-stained]

Going from detailed outline to full text when you're writing a fic is so funny because the story I've alread written keeps fucking happening to me

Like what do you mean it has a point? When the fuck did that story about misunderstandings and trauma and making fun of the batfam for making assumptions while also feeling sorry for them turn into asking uncomfortable questions about my career choices ? Where did that Diana/Cass parallel come from? Why is my therapist highjacking my story???!!

[tyracaterinagrant]

genuinely hilarious btw how people on twt want soo bad to make matteo a villain in jannik's story or some shit like it's a disney movie. less than a month ago he said they'd talked recently and he's never had anything but good things to say about jannik but to some people it'll never be enough because he made a decision for his career that i understand is hard to digest but it has nothing to do with his relationship with jannik, jannik himself said it doesn't bother him, they both have never indicated they weren't on good terms. like yeah we can't ever really know the truth behind what they say in public, but i think we should stick with what we can see and read, yeah? because making wild assumptions based on nothing doesn't lead to anything good, it's just speculation and i don't see what anyone gains from it?? i think maybe some people need to grow up and accept that they don't know these people. they don't know jannik and what he thinks or feels or who he talks to or who avoids him or whatever. we know what he shows and tells us and that has to be enough because otherwise we go down dangerous paths

[valewritessss]

If we’re going to talk about underrated pjo friendships we need to talk about Grover and Annabeth