deprived children

Saturn through the houses:

Saturn in 1st House:
Has a Serious approach to life, pessimistic, reluctant to assert oneself in most situations, grew up in an unsupportive environment.

Saturn in 2nd House:
Constant worry over finance due to obstacles, insecurity about self worth, feeling suffocated by material commitments.

Saturn in 3rd House:
Fear of being mentally incapable, prone to self destructive thoughts, early childhood in school was a restricting experience.

Saturn in 4th House:
Growing up with no warmth or support from family, usually represents 1 parent with a cold attitude, sense of alienation from one’s background/family.

Saturn in 5th House:
Dissatisfaction due to block creativity, difficulties with children, deprived of love due to fear of rejection.

Saturn in 6th House:
Health issues and/or accidents that interfere with school, and work. Suffocating routines, being unhappy with one’s work.

Saturn in 7th House:
Reluctance to become too dependent or intimate, burdensome relationships. Lessons in equal responsibility, picking holes in partners.

Saturn in 8th House:
A resistance of change, fear of the subconscious, inhibited sexuality. Inability to let go emotionally.

Saturn in 9th House:
Obstacles in the way of or during travel, learning values of self discipline. Looking at abstract concepts through a practical lense. Possible oppressive religious influences.

Saturn in 10th House:
Making a mark in the world, slow progress to recognition with many obstacles. Need for social acceptability.Fulfilling parent’s expectations.

Saturn in 11th House:
Loner attitude, difficulties interacting in a group. Preferences for older friends. Long lasting friendships.

Saturn in 12th House:
Hidden doubts, low self esteem. Feelings of alienation from society, loneliness. Meeting negative traits of oneself in others.

Enneagram Childhood Wounds

Type 1: These children felt heavily criticized, punished, or not good enough. Household rules may have felt inconsistent. As such they became obsessed with being good/not making mistakes to avoid condemnation. The principle message was: “You must always be better than you are.”

Type 2: These children felt loved only if they were helping or pleasing others, their personal needs felt selfish. As a result they closed off their own needs and feelings and tuned into those of others. Love became defined as giving to others - though the love often didn’t feel received or reciprocated. 

Type 3: To the heart - These children felt rewarded only for what they did and how well they did it. their feelings were discounted and ignored, only their performance and what was expected of them mattered. This harmed their ability to love themselves and others. Admiration replaced real love. 

Type 4: These children felt abandoned by one or both caretakers. They felt alone, cut off from the source of love for reasons they couldn’t understand. They were not “seen” or mirrored, and felt different from their parents. As a result, they turned inward to their feelings and imagination to cope in isolation. 

Type 5: These children received no meaningful interaction, emotion, or affection from caretakers. Or, the child had intrusive, over-controlling parent(s) and felt exposed and defenseless in the face of this intrusion. As a result, they built walls around themselves and retreated to the mental realm. 

Type 6: To the trusting nature. These children were raised in an unpredictable situation with no safe place to go. They lost faith they would ever be protected. As such, they turned to their own inner defense of doubting, disbelieving reality and rejecting their own instincts/inner guidance. 

Type 7: These children were deprived of nurturing, or it was too-soon removed. They handled this lack by searching for distractions to minimize/repress fear and pain. They decided to focus on positive options and rely on themselves to fulfill their desires and gain a sense of nurturance. 

Type 8: These children often grew up in an unsafe environment (emotionally and/or physically) and had to mature way too soon. They didn’t feel safe to show any vulnerability, and may have felt controlled. Weakness was used against them, so they focused only on building their strength. 

Type 9: To the gut, the core of being. These children were overlooked or neglected and felt unimportant or “lost.” They were ignored/attacked for having needs or expressing themselves (especially anger) and decided to keep a low profile and instead focus on the needs/experience of others. 

(credit to Elan BenAmi, MA, and Rev. Lori Ohlson, MA, LPC)

listen you guys dont understand how overwhelming it is to see a predominantly black cast in a movie that isn’t involving slavery. how absolutely thrilling it is to know that a kid is going to see black panther and realize that heroes can look just like them. it is an experience that many of us were deprived of as children and i can almost feel a sense of my childhood coming back thinking about how i always wanted someone that could represent my culture and having that now is something i can’t quite put into words.


The psychological effect Israel’s war crimes have on Palestinian children is rarely talked about. Israel says ‘you teach your children to hate’ but they will never tell you that they kill so many parents. They deprive so many Palestinian children of a father, a mother, someone to help calm their fears. 

The top photo is of a relative of Ibrahim Mansour, 26, who was killed by Israeli soldiers as he was collecting gravel to sell from his donkey cart, during his funeral in Gaza City today, February 14, 2014, and the bottom photo is of his son at the hospital morgue yesterday.

Never forget the children of Palestine. Never forget their struggle of growing up.

(Photos: Suhaib Salem / Reuters)

anonymous asked:

since lotor took charge there have been double the number of attacks, so the paladins decide to take night shifts in the control room of the castle. this usually ends up with sleep deprived children so they always go in pairs and one night it's keith and lance and they end up snuggled up on a nearby couch delirious and talking about anything when keith says "so who's your favorite alien so far" and lance goes really quiet and says "you" because he thinks keith doesn't hear him but keith dies


hc sunday


I was a queen, and you took away my crown; a wife, and you killed my husband; a mother, and you deprived me of my children. My blood alone remains: take it, but do not make me suffer long.

historical make me choose @liverpoolrules asked: marie antoinette or elisabeth of austria

Fic: Wait

Prompt: “When was the last time you slept?”

“When was the last time you slept?” Oliver asks, walking into the bunker after a long day at City Hall.

He hadn’t expected Felicity to be here, considering he’d told her to take the day off this morning after they pulled an all nighter following up on a lead that turned out to be another dead end. Since she is still wearing the outfit she had on when he left this morning, he knows she hasn’t left.

“What day is it?” Felicity asks, not looking up from her screen.

“Tuesday,” he says, looking around the room for any sign that she’s at least eaten, but all of the garbage cans are empty, so he knows she hasn’t. The only sign that she’s consumed anything is the coffee cup in front of her and the empty K-Cups on the counter near the kitchen.

“Tuesday, right,” she mutters, clearly distracted by whatever it is she’s doing. “And what day did we go after Valenzuela?”

Oliver looks at her in concern before saying, “Saturday.”

She’s got to be kidding. She can’t have been up that long. How is she even functioning right now?

Keep reading

I’m not totally sure if someone else has pointed out this specific parallel yet, but I just noticed this- a sobering callback to chapter 73.

Armin was the one who sparked this desire within Eren, to see the outside world and truly become free.  He simply never thought of the extent of their trapped existence until he met Armin, who shared his dream with him.  One of the driving forces for Eren’s hatred of the titans was the fact that they deprived him and everyone else within the walls of the ability to leave and see what the world has to offer.

Chapter 90 gives us a different take on this.  Eren has changed a lot in the small amount of time that has passed since receiving his father’s memories.

He looks into Armin’s eyes again, trying to recall the same sentiments that stirred him years ago.  Back when their dream was this shimmery, shining soap bubble that empowered them both to keep going.  But after Eren receives Grisha’s memories, he is haunted to the point where he can’t see Armin’s vision any more.  He sees instead, his father’s little sister, torn apart mercilessly by dogs for desiring more than her lot in this world.  He looks to the ocean and sees enemies across it that want them dead.  He still wants to be free, but now he fears what that entails.  What price will we have to pay to be free? That’s something Eren wonders at the end of this chapter.  

…..And now, here’s my take on it.  Armin isn’t wrong, and neither is Eren.  The world is full of people who want to kill the Eldians for their mere existence, and it’s full of sick people who murder children and deprive others of freedom.  But all of those things that Armin described- flaming water, frozen snow fields, vast deserts of sand- are very real too.  In order to continue on, Eren must accept both of these truths.  I would love to see, by the end, Eren regaining the sense of hope that he once had and being able to find some peace with it.  

The only time Doritos and Tokyo Ghoul in the same context is O.K.

Hide: next you’ll tell me you’ve never had ice cream or gummy worms or something 
Arima: … gummy-what?
Shuu:*sweats nervously*
Hide: are you kidding me? we need to go to a convenience store pronto- JUNKFOOD JUSTICE MUST BE SERVED!

Nicked from myersbricks on variants

Social Instinct (So)

This does NOT mean “sociable” and any type, even Social blindspot, may have and enjoy the company of many friends (though they are less bothered than most by not). A Social type wishes to belong to or be connected to a group, to contribute to society, and / or possibly to achieve a level of status and fame (though this will vary). Usually develops as a response to childhood feelings of loneliness or isolation, of being “different” from or “separate” from groups or peers. Neurotic social types find it difficult to participate in groups and thus, paradoxically, many loners are Social firsts. People with this instinct in their first or second place often find it easy to identify the “social hierarchy” and pay attention to who has status within a group, consciously or otherwise, and are keenly aware of their own place within it.

Social second often finds it relatively easy to “network”, to make friends or connections, and may take a relaxed issue towards family and friends. Less healthy Social 2nd may take friends and networks for granted, or exploit them for their Sp first or Sx first ends. Sx/So in particular may cross social boundaries without thinking because they feel that burnt bridges can be rebuilt or replaced.

Social last may have several friends or belong to many groups but does not prioritise them. They may easily join and drop out of social groups (including online groups) with little thought to what other people think (in the sense that it does not really occur to them rather than that they maliciously do not care). They may also be guilty of more “social faux pas’” than the other stackings as they do not care much for how others think of them (relative to other typological factors and health level etc.). They may also occasionally present as somewhat “mysterious” to other people.

Sexual Instinct (Sx)

This does NOT mean “sexual” nor does it mean romantic relationships- any type can fall in love and live happily together. Instead, Sx refers to “sexual energy” and draws to mind a desire to “merge” with a significant other and spend as much time with them as possible, giving 110%. However, this energy need not be directed only at a lover- a cause, a project, a religion, an organization, a dream; anything will do, and individual Sx persons may have several interests at once, or spend their lives searching for someone or something to devote themselves to. In general, Sx/Sp is more “relationship oriented” than Sx/So, but this is more of a trend than a rule and there are numerous exceptions each way. Sx types often feel intense and have a need for intense experiences, though what this entails will vary by person. Neurotic Sx types can be selfish and prioritise their own need for experiences ahead or at the expense of what other people want or care about. Some Sx types may have felt disconnected from an early significant relationship, such as parents or other family members.

Sexual second finds it relatively easy to form or pursue close relationships, romantic or otherwise, and feels comfortable pursuing social or self-preservation goals when they have an intimate other (or others), romantic or otherwise. Even if they never actually enter a relationship themselves, they are often read in them and find them easy to understand. Less healthily, they may feel lonely when not in the company of close friends or family, or they may exploit relationships for their other ends.

Sexual last may feel that they lack a certain “drive” or “energy” in their life and do not find it as easy as Sx types to pursue their ambitions or their dreams, or appear to do so at a more relaxed pace. They may also feel strangely disconnected to people they are close to as if there is some “gap” or “space” between them no matter how close they actually are.


This instinct is the desire for security, for home, health, job, fitness, family etc. While everybody must have or pursue these needs in order to survive, the self-preservation type may feel insecure about getting these needs met and about keeping them met. Though in some ways the least ambitious of the three instinctual types, they can give it their all if they feel their personal security (and / or that of their friends and family) are at stake in one way or another. Sp also represents psychological security and many devote themselves to hobbies, careers or projects when they feel secure in the other areas of their life (whether or not they actually are); or, alternatively, to give themselves a sense of security in an less ordered life. Self-Pres types often desire less to be “wealthy” than to “have enough” and are not necessarily interested in riches- though they may chase after them like everyone else, they are more likely to be possessive about what they have than greedy about getting more, unless they want more out of fear of future loss. Though the “average man / woman” is often a Self-Pres type, they can also be found amongst several highly successful and famous persons who have managed to achieve fame and fortune by hard work and good luck rather than as an end in itself. Some self-pres types felt deprived or endangered as children and fear loss of security again.

Self-Pres second finds it relatively easy to take care of themselves or have their needs met. They may feel more “secure” than Self-Pres first and are likely to feel that they are best served building themselves a solid “base” or “nest” and / or achieving a certain level of mental or physical fitness before pursuing their Social or Sexual needs. Less healthily, others may take Self-Preservation for granted and be wasteful with their time and resources as they are so relaxed about these issues that they get left by the wayside or risked in a gamble.

Self-Pres last often felt like their self-preservation needs were either unimportant or easily met (many people from wealthier backgrounds are Sp last; others from poorer backgrounds may simply have been well looked after or felt more secure in their Social or Sexual instincts in support). They may find it difficult to take care of themselves if they fall on hard times or they may fail to consider the physical needs of others.

Ginny does not react as well as she’d hoped she would when seven year old Lily Luna inevitably asks for a pretty diary for her birthday. 

After talking it over with Harry, though, she agrees to buy one. It’s pink, glittery, and purchased from a muggle craft store. Bill runs several Curse-Breaking tests on it before she wraps it and gifts it to her daughter, still uncomfortable with the idea, but not wanting to deprive her children of anything because of her own fears. 

I remember reading one of the confessions (some of the confessions are so inspiring and I am thankful that you chose to run this tumblr) posted here which talked about how messed up magical world treats deprived children with not even a department dedicated on helping them. It got me into thinking, there should be a Parent association of sorts for Muggle-born parents, or like initiation events, or meeting for them. It is hard enough for kids to be thrown into a world totally alien to them, but it is just as horrifying for the parents too.
Judge spares mother-of-five from jail after she encouraged UK terror attacks on pro-ISIS Facebook group as he tells her: 'The sooner you get back to your children the better'
Farhana Ahmed, 40, from north-west London, who encouraged terror attacks on the UK on a pro-ISIS Facebook group has been spared jail at the Old Bailey.

“A mother who urged others to launch terror attacks in Britain was spared jail yesterday after a judge took pity on her five children.

Farhana Ahmed, 40, shared a ‘prolific quantity’ of Islamic State propaganda on a Facebook group whose aim was to link extremists worldwide.

She praised the Paris attacks and posted tips on 'how to carry out a stabbing’ as well as links to a library of terrorist publications with videos and images of IS fighters.

In 2015 she made 19 Facebook posts that 'directly or indirectly encouraged terrorism both within the UK and abroad,’ the Old Bailey heard. Ahmed had been in custody since July last year as she awaited trial. Her five home-schooled children, aged between six and 16, were cared for by relatives.

Judge Christopher Moss QC yesterday said he was 'moved’ by a letter from her daughter and ruled that she could return to her children.

He handed her a two-year suspended jail sentence after she pleaded guilty to encouraging terrorism and three counts of disseminating terrorist documents.

Judge Moss told her: 'In your exceptional case, the sooner you are returned to your children, the better for all concerned. Since you were charged and remanded in custody this has plainly had an extremely adverse effect on your children who have been looked after by family.

'You express remorse for your actions which I regard as completely genuine. It’s quite clear to me that you regret in the strongest possible way your criminal conduct.’

Judge Moss said Ahmed made the posts at a 'very difficult time’ in her life. He added: 'You have devoted your life, apart from this abhorrent behaviour, to the care of your children.

'There is no realistic danger of you returning to the mindset evident of your conduct of two years ago. You want nothing more than to return to your family and your family want nothing more than you to return to them. They have suffered greatly by your period in custody.’

As she left the dock, Ahmed, who wore a headscarf, quietly said 'thank you’ to the judge.

Last night Conservative MP Philip Davies reacted to the decision with fury, saying: 'It is completely outrageous that this woman hasn’t been jailed. People will rightly wonder what you have to do to be sent to prison by the courts these days.’

Former Tory MP Angie Bray added: 'I wonder if the judge has also considered the suffering of so many children deprived of their parents by the wicked actions of terrorists inspired by the depraved stuff they pick up on certain social media?’

The court heard that the self-described 'pro-IS’ Facebook group, called Power Strangers, grew from 721 members to 1,480 in the two months after Ahmed joined. The group’s name is a play on the superhero series Power Rangers.

Using the alias Kay Adams, Ahmed expressed her approval for the Paris terror attacks and published speeches by IS leader Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi and his deputy, Abu Mohammad al-Adnani, between September and November 2015. Ahmed described them as amazing speeches and called on Allah to 'preserve and protect them both’. Her posts also included calls for attacks on the West.

Prosecutor Ben Lloyd said: 'It is clear … that she shared the group’s ideology and aims.’ The British national, of Wembley in north-west London, travelled to Turkey with her husband Muhammed Burmal Karwani and their children in November 2013.

Ahmed and the children returned here while her husband stayed behind. When she tried to travel to Turkey in August 2015 she was refused entry. Mr Lloyd added: 'It may be that following this, she decided to begin her campaign on Facebook encouraging terrorism.’

Ahmed had been charged with two further counts of funding terrorism, but these were dropped after the prosecution offered no evidence.

It was alleged she transferred more than £3,000 to a Turkish bank account in the name of her husband in September 2014 and sent him £4,300 in February 2015.

Mr Karwani, who was accused of terrorism offences in Turkey and was acquitted, is now back in the UK.

The case follows a growing row over how to deal with British jihadis who have tried to return from Syria to the UK.

A recent report found that Britain was home to more jihadis who have returned from Syria than almost all other countries. Only Turkey, Tunisia and Saudi Arabia are home to more people who travelled to fight for IS.

Around 850 Britons travelled to the Middle East to fight and around half are thought to be back here, meaning more than 400 are still at large.

But Britain’s independent reviewer of terrorism legislation, Max Hill QC, sparked fury last month by calling for 'naive’ teenage jihadis to be spared prosecution in the UK.

It was then reported that terror suspects including returning jihadis could be offered taxpayer-funded homes, counselling and help finding jobs to stop them carrying out attacks in Britain.

It also comes after several cases where a female defendant has been spared jail.

In August, accountant Natalie Saul, 37, who stole £350,000 to feed her gambling addiction, avoided jail after a judge said she was 'not the general stuff of which the prison population is made’.

Judge Catherine Newman QC was going to jail Saul for at least three years but had been persuaded that she was unfit for prison. She handed her a two-year suspended sentence and 250 hours’ community service at Southwark Crown Court.

And Oxford University student Lavinia Woodward, 24, who stabbed her boyfriend last December, was spared prison in September after Oxford Crown Court judge Ian Pringle said she had an 'extraordinary’ talent for medicine.” 


Yes, fear. However, I am not talking about fear of the abusive partner, and his violence tendencies, but fear of the unknown. I think that this is the number one reason why women tend to remain with their abusive partners in spite of everything. The fear of moving on, and having to begin a new relationship with someone entirely new— who might of course, even be worse than their present partner… So they stick with the devil they know, live with the abuse, and continue to be trampled upon.


Believe it or not there are actually women who are so into money and the fancy life, that they’re willing to accept emotional and physical abuse as the price they have to pay for it. These sorts of women would never quit an abusive relationship for anything… not as long as the money keeps rolling into their partners’ bank accounts


Once a woman has had a baby or more for her man, it’s often very difficult for her to leave him or the relationship, irrespective of what difficulty she’s faced with. The reason for this isn’t exactly because of her emotional attachment to her man, but because firstly, women naturally tend to want to build a family with the father of their children. No woman wants to have children for multiple men or deprive their children of that fatherly love that they deserve. 

Keep reading



Author’s note: This video just made me cry a river, I’m such a trash. Jungkook’s love for all his hyungs is just so heartwarming. Masterlist here. Requests for oneshots open.

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Park Jimin

Genre: fluff

Summary: Along with a soul-flipping video of their short trip to Japan, Jungkook gifts a letter to Jimin that doesn’t reach the Bighit office. What does he write, and why does he find it necessary to secretively write so?

Rating: G

Word Count: 1580

I see you sitting right across me, sinking into the bean bag, tired and drowsy from practicing. It’s three in the morning, I’m on the couch, I’m right in front of you and you’re probably thinking I’m deep in my world of music, scribbling down lyrics as they come to me in odd times and broken pieces.

I’m not. It’s three in the morning and I’m writing about you- to you, for you.

It’s been two days since we’ve been back from the trip; two days since your question has been daunting me. 

We were in the cab, heading back to the dorm from the airport when you stopped our conversation about dinner, looked into my eyes and overthrew my senses, my very capability of forming coherent thoughts. 

Jungkook-ah, what was your favourite part of the trip?

I took it to be propriety, the natural goodness that you foster in your heart that makes you question whether I enjoyed the trip, took it to be a valuable investment of time or not. 

I had nodded then, told you every part of it was my favourite, that it was a thorough joy for me. You seemed content with my reciprocation but somehow, I wasn’t. It felt like I had taken the easy way out, looked past the depth of your concern.

I stayed awake last night, kneading my cheeks as I paced my room, tapping my fingers on my chest as I lied down. The more I thought, the more I lost sleep.

When you asked about my favourite part, my favourite memory, did you mean the best one I made with you? The best one that I’ll hold close to my heart, let it flutter when you bring it up on social occasions. Or were you talking about my favourite emotion among the many we set free because time was tangible and we were volatile? 

The more I thought, the more time flew. Am I overthinking? Or is it really that difficult to put a finger upon our favourite rendezvous, choose one joyous string of memory among the infinite others you stitched together? 

When I sat down in my studio, cutting merging and framing our videos, looking for the perfect song that fit us, I was initially clueless.There was so much of you, so much of you I wanted to show, wanted to reveal. You were bursting in rejoice and ingenuity, you were jubilant and you were all smiles. There was so much of you that I didn’t know which one to pause and look at, which one to pause and love.

I’ve done a poor job in the video, really. There’s no shutter, no camera that can capture you, the entirety of you and the magic you hold inside of you.

If I were to reminisce our favourite memories, I’d say there’s quite a handful.

The first comes as your smile- that incomprehensible miracle I’ve had the luxury of basking in for seconds, minutes and hours. I wish my eyes were the shutter, I wish I could have more of them captured and stored inside my vision, my memory till the end of time. My camera failed, I failed rather, to capture your pure, clandestine chuckle when you lost your way to the hotel, forcing me to stop and ask strangers in signs and stuttering syllables. 

You laughed at my misery, you are cruel. You stood in front of the hotel and gaped at it with twinkling eyes while you squeezed my hand a little tighter, you are cruel. You marked the beginning of the thrill in my spine when you entered the lobby, entered a new journey and entered a new chapter in my life I’ll keep going back to stare at- you are cruel.

The second comes as the first night we spent together on the king size bed we got. You were seemingly cross when your demand for double beds was not kept. You were, perhaps, shy too, at the proximity we held between us- a touch of souls if not skin. 

But it was that proximity, lying between the sheets and leaning against the headboard that made my warmth penetrate you, made you say things you knew I have known, noticed but that night you asked for my opinions, you asked me to care, to help.

They weren’t very substantial, your questions that is. Had they been about the company and your boggling schedules, your choreo setbacks or your vocal strains- I could’ve really been involved, could’ve spoken rationally. But no, you had to delve deep into the pit of intimacy, make me stagger because I’m seeing you in a different light, seeing you unjustifiably with none of my eyes and whole of my heart.

You laughed to hide the little pool of tears, as though you didn’t know my gaze was on them the entire time. We’ve all felt hurt, felt ache. So much that at this point I had presumed we have become numb. But I was wrong. You blaze the chasms in my heart and I feel your heartbreak like the skin feels the blade.

When you cry, it feels the universe has stopped orbiting, like planets have lost their course and rivers have shriveled into dry dead soil.

Unfair, I find it unfair when you say you have been labeled, have been made an expected embodiment of perfection. We have both been young, been deprived as children from unknown cities, children with potential and children who could be commercialized well. I know you’ve had days of sobbing, of killing yourself every morning, starting your mornings lifeless and machinelike because you thought no one cared about your true self. 

Days of starving, days of sweating, days of self-intimidation- you’ve had the worst of the filth. But seeing you walk to the minibar, turn up the music and wiggle your hips to absurd foreign songs makes me realize you deserve this, you deserve freedom and you deserve to be handled delicately, without impositions, without marketing obligations because you are just as human, just as fragile and lovable as the ones asking you for your sacrifices.

I realize this everyday, realize you are quaking your fears into bigger demons and letting yourself be swallowed mercilessly but that night I let my realization show. I danced with you, laughed with you. Jimin, I lived with you.

The third comes in colours and rainbows and your goofy impulses.

We ran about in the city; eating, shopping and simply exploring. We left ill-treatment behind, left malcontent behind. We left all the hate behind, we left all expectations behind to be young and be ourselves. We left the world behind to make one of our own.

It was sunny that day- or maybe it was just you. You giggled and you hummed, you trotted and you jumped, you gave me your love and you made me your friend. 

I didn’t see you as someone I see everyday. I saw you whole and new- perfected in all imperfections. You made me stop thinking twice, in fact you made me stop thinking at all. You made me shed all my shields, become vulnerable and susceptible to the change you brought with your love. With you, I was me. I wasn’t what I was marketed to be, I wasn’t a golden child and I wasn’t taken for granted. With you I was treasured, I was valued and with you I was transcending happiness.

I love how you take pictures, sudden and surprising but it reminds me how you cherish memories, how you hold the smallest, intricate pieces close to you. How you adore your best moments and your best companions- your best emotions. I had my camera, I have innumerable pictures of you, too. All in vivid memorabilia, with you shining under the sun and against the cobbles. But little did you know, I love your hazy pictures more, taken in haste because time is fleeting but you want that moment to stay.

I have diminishing words and escalating feelings when it comes to you, Jimin. And I think, no, I am sure, I have found the favourite part of the trip.

It is how you made me feel grateful.

Grateful for letting me protect you, even though we are both weak you submitted your fears into my hands, let me mould them and pretend for a moment I was strong, that there is hope for me to fight on.

Grateful for smiling, for bringing light into darkness and for making my tear-stained pillows dry again. For being my side when everybody said I was worth no one.

Grateful for finding me humane, for making my heart beat when people make it stop, turn me into a puppet and objectify my very existence. 

Grateful for letting me escape and letting me learn to love the flaws that I always thought brings a negative curve to the graph of meeting expectations. 

I’m grateful you chose me to occupy a bigger portion in your life, I’m grateful you loved me, adored me and I’m grateful we’ve had this journey and we’ve taken a  step closer to fuller smiles and brighter days.

I don’t know how to say this out loud so I write this instead. I’ve always dreamt of travelling with you, seeing the world from your eyes and laughing with the totality of my heart. I admire and cherish every second with you and don’t make me say this on broadcasts- you are the only one I’ll probably ever be myself with.

Thank you, Jimin, for being there for me.

I know I’ll be there for you too.


Tear In My Heart (Erik Durm Imagine) (x)

It’s not that Erik hated visiting children’s hospitals. In fact, out of all the players in Borussia Dortmund, Erik was the last person people expected to protest charity functions or other appointments in that nature. Maybe it was the porcelain walls that confined each depressing hospital room, which seemed to incubate Erik’s somber sentiments. Or maybe it was the fact that those children were deprived of every single ounce of a decent childhood, and Erik was left powerless to help their situation.

“You ready?” Marco inquired, gently nudging Erik’s shoulder as the bus steadily encroached upon the hospital entrance. Erik gave a slight nod in acquiescence, as the rest of the team began to boisterously rise from their seats, chattering happily to each other.

“I just don’t get why they’re so happy,” Erik groaned as Marco stood up from his seat. “They do know that we’re going to a children’s hospital, and the probability of even half of these kids living is pretty slim, right?” he rationalized despite the blonde’s failure to even take out his earbuds. As the team began to meticulously began to file one-by-one out of the bus’s exit, they were enthusiastically greeted by a team of nurses who worked individually with the patients. As you began to brief the men, decked out in yellow and black, of the children’s conditions, you noticed a pair of blue eyes gazing at you attentively.

“Each group of five players,” your boss authoritatively barked at the innocuous players, while pacing back and forth, “Will be supervised by a nurse. So get with your assigned nurse.” Instantly, the assemblage of footballers dispersed at your boss’s order, while you hastily scanned the names on you clip board.

“Marco Reus, Erik Durm, Christian Pulisic, Marc Bartra, and Roman Burki,” you hesitantly called out as the five figures began to part eagerly in your direction. You reluctantly smiled to yourself as you watched the earnest royal-blue eyes stride shyly over to you.

“All here and completely at your service,” the six foot swiss conceded with a cheeky wink, causing your cheeks to flush pink. You tossed your hair over your shoulder confidently, and grinned at your audience as Marco rolled his eyes at the goalie’s suggestive comments.

“Don’t worry about Marco or Roman,” you heard a cheerful voice resonate from behind you, as you led your group into the ward. “Roman’s just a big ole’ teddy bear and Marco is like a big brother to him,” the Pennsylvanian accent stated happily, engendering a chorus of groans. “But Erik and me are pretty accommodating, aren’t we Erik?” he boasted while wrapping an arm around Erik shoulder. Erik’s gaze shyly shifted towards the ground, as he bit onto the flesh of his lip and nodded in approval.  

Upon entering the pediatric cancer ward, you carefully watched, out of the corner of your eye,  Erik’s patterned inhales and exhales become increasingly steady, “I’m sure they’ll love you,” you whispered into Erik’s ear as you brushed past him to swipe into the division. Not even two minutes later, Roman was laughing happily as each of his muscular limbs were being used as a human jungle gym. Marc was effervescently grinning from ear to ear, as he was drawing pictures of princesses with several of the young girls, while Christian and Marco were competitively participating in a fifa tournament with the rest of the patients. Your eyes frantically searched the ward to discern Erik’s location, as you noticed a patient’s room with the door half open. You crept up behind the door surreptitiously, and watched in silence, as Erik sat perched next to Anna’s bed, conversing with her about his different tattoos.

“The cross is very important to me,” he explained. “I’m very religious. And this one,” he continued as Anna beamed up at him, “Is for my mom and dad.”

“I have a mom and dad too!” she interjected with so much enthusiasm, that it emanated into one of her coughing fits. Erik began to worriedly search the room for relief, as you swooped in and rubbed circular patterns on the back of Anna’s hospital gown.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Erik said abruptly, looking between you and Anna, as he exited towards the restroom across the hallway.

“Don’t mind him,” you remarked happily, as you approached her window. “Do you want to listen to some of your favorite music?” you suggested. The four-year-old’s pixie face lit up with boundless excitement at your offering, as you turned on her pink boom-box, and slipped in one of her favorite CDs. “I think this is someone’s favorite song,” you hinted ebulliently as Anna giggled and reached up for you. The two of you waltzed happily, accentuating each rhythmic beat of the instrumental version of “Hip’s Don’t Lie,” by Shakira.

Through the cracked opening of the bathroom door, Erik watched the two of you twirl and laugh jovially, while carefully measuring the sound of his every movement. He didn’t want to spoil this moment. It was too beautiful. Every lighthearted giggle the two of you shared and each measured twist of your body that supported the young girl’s weight, only further incited his desire of wanting to get to know you. Erik savored each second in the three minute song, but at its conclusion he gradually began to emerge from his position, waiting patiently by the room’s entrance.

“You missed a dance party!” Anna cheered out enthusiastically while burying her face into your shoulder triumphantly, causing your skin to burn with self-conscious demure. The blue of Erik’s eyes simperingly toyed with your’s, as he broke into a sincere grin.

“So it seems like I did,” he taunted contentedly, while shyly walking over towards the two of you. “But maybe,” he began while biting onto the flesh of his lower lip apprehensively. “With Y/N’s permission, I can arrange a date between the three of us, and we can have all the dance parties you want,” he concluded while nervously looking between the both of you.

“I think we can somehow arrange that,” you reckoned blithely, giving him a slight wink.