It was hardened by trials of fire and flame and smoke, dry and cracking burnt flesh and bone.
But it survived.
It survived because two beautiful souls, troubled and trying to be moral, but living in a harsh reality in which sacrifices must be made for freedom, for hope, and that includes lives and ethics
they know one another better than anyone else. they know one another so well they cast aside any pretense of social or physical distance.
they have their own language.
they share the same dream.
Other people see it.
One character himself.
Has even commented. On the fact that they have their “own language.”
They’ve been through a lot together.
They love each other. They support one another.
Their dream means something. It carries the entire manga. The ENTIRE manga is based on THIS moment
I looked into your eyes and saw I wasn’t free.
I was born into this world.
Which you didn’t see until
Platonic or not.
There is no denying there is a great love there.
Something truly beautiful that draws on friendship and intimacy so casual, so normal that neither even thinks about it as strange. It’s as unremarkable as breathing, like sharing lungs, a heart. He inhales, the other exhales.
A relationship you’ve seen before, but never like this.
Not like this.
The attack on titan fandom.
In its wisdom and literary comprehension.
Decides this is the canon ship.
This is the ship we should praise.
this is the relationship with the most heart, depth, and reality.
This is our most beautiful, meaningful, and most popular relationship.
In which Harry’s no good with his words but he sure is good with his mouth.
some harry face sitting action maybe?
Author’s note: This is a continuation of “Mess o’ Mine.” I would suggest reading that first, if you haven’t already. I thought this was gonna be the end but then I fucked up so… there’s also a part 3. Hope you enjoy! I did!
You’ve been running through the events that have occurred, confused at the escalation and the outcome. No issues have been resolved, and there wasn’t really a conversation or discussion. You don’t know any more than you did when you heard Harry singing your poems. Has he used your writing in more songs on his album? Has he read your whole journal? God, you hope not. One poem is bad enough.
Harry hasn’t been around, hasn’t tried calling for the two weeks since he showed up on your doorstep. You’ve flipped the channel whenever he shows up on your television and scrolled at record speed when he’s popped up on your social media feeds. Maybe you should feel relieved and cleansed of his toxicity, but you don’t. Instead, you feel a little broken, like your stomach is splintering into pieces, and your mind still feels split open. Not only that, but you can smell him, feel the weight of him on top of you, taste the foreign flavor of his mouth. This isn’t what you need.
A whole other wave of confusion has rolled over you in terms of your relationship with Harry, if there still is one. The two of you have crossed a line without any prior thought or contemplation. Years upon years of friendship have been threatened, and you’re not even sure how it happened. Why did he kiss you? How did the two of you end up in bed, naked between the sheets? If you were confused about it before, trying to figure things out has only worsened your introspection.
His skin was freezing to the touch, smooth and frozen cold, melting under warm fingertips. There were arctic oceans in his heart, the depths bottomless. Cold mist, dark clouds filled his lungs, the blizzards leaving his throat with each gasp for air making his lips blue. Thunderclouds followed his every step, pelting water onto his hair, freezing into icicles as raindrops trailed down his skin. His whole body was as tense as ice, with the rigidity, the lifelessness of a marble statue. He looked as unwelcoming, cold, fierce as a tundra, although his skin was as delicate as frost. He hid cold waters and torturous waves under his icy gaze. His lungs filled with ice slowly, frost trailing up his throat, his breath laboured and pained.
♡ Summary: It has been nearly a year since you started writing anonymous letters to Jungkook, giving him words of encouragement behind the thin mask of a paper. He never considered you as a possible suspect behind these letters, because you were nothing more than a best friend. And you couldn’t put all the blame on him either, after all, you were too afraid to confess in fear of tarnishing your precious friendship.
Paper airplanes, paper towns, paper hearts… None of which from its time of creation to the time it ceases were they meant to last forever. They were a result of human creation, a temporary craft meant to satisfy what its creators could not have. Regardless of how many papers you’d fold, they would never adequately express your feelings to him. You gave him nothing but meaningless letters with hints that led to dead ends. Perhaps he never caught onto your hints for this very reason. He would never see you for your true self, he only saw you the way he wanted to see you. You were his best friend, nothing more, nothing less. Yet for as long as you were somewhere within his heart, you were content. You told yourself you could be second, third, or even last, because you were willing to wait… but just how long could your feelings stand against the test of time?
Jughead is the reader’s best friend, and she’s liked him since grade school but has never told him. Based on the requested song: Shades of Blue by Ashton Edminster
Word count: 2,102
A/N: So this was going to be sad, but then I got into a v happy mood and I couldn’t end it sad so here’s some fluffy lovey something idk
Cause all my shades of blue
Go away when I’m with you
Put a golden frame around my heart
Cause you make me feel like a piece of art
Secrets. They can tear people apart, or bring people together.
You have a secret.
A secret that would rock the walls of Riverdale High.
A secret that would change everything. You love Jughead Jones.
Okay, so maybe it’s not that big of a secret, but still, you’ve been friends with Jughead since pre-school, and you’ve never once told him that. You’ve never once let it slip. You know that he only thinks of you as a friend, maybe even a sister. Your mom practically helped raise Jellybean, going over to babysit for the Jone’s whenever there were issues beyond your comprehension at the time. You ended up tagging along, becoming closer and closer with Jughead. You remember the time when you would make him sit as you tried to sketch him out, eventually trying to draw his likeness from memory.
You often think back fondly at a memories of times you tried to make Jughead sit so you could paint him, but it just ended up in him trying to get the most paint on you.
You smile, realizing that you’ve been there for him through everything, and you’ve come to rely on each other.
You have a relationship with him unlike anyone else, one that’s more playful, almost sibling-like in nature. He’s only like that with you, only willing to be that way around someone he’s known all his life.
During the summer from Freshman to Sophomore year, your mom stops babysitting Jellybean, and you still don’t know why. You continue to ask about it, mainly because you just want any excuse to spend more time with Jughead, but she doesn’t tell.
That’s her secret.
One day after school, you’re sitting in front of an easel in the art room with a paint-covered smock, working an abstract of a human girl, a bleeding heart coming out of the center. There’s something missing, though, and you can’t quite figure out what it is.
“Hey dork.” you hear a voice say, and you turn around to see a familiar figure standing in the doorway. Jughead.
“Hey idiot.” you respond to him, making him smirk.
“Let’s go to Pop’s. I want some fries.” he says, walking over to where you’re sitting and casting a shadow on your work of art.
You sigh and look up at him, motioning for him to move. He doesn’t move.
“Jug, move.” you say, standing up and shoving him with your shoulder playfully, trying not to get paint on him.
“No,” he shoves you back as per usual. Nudging shoulders has quickly become one of the things that only you guys understand. You go back to the stool you were sitting on, “What are you painting?”
You sit on the stool once more and stare at the piece, “Honestly I’m not sure. Any tips?” He stares at it for a moment, putting out his thumb and finger in an ‘L’ shape, acting like he’s observing it in a deep manner, like a true art critic. He squints his eyes and then opens them like he has an idea.
“Paint a frame around the heart,” he says, not elaborating on what he means, “and do it quick, I want food.”
You grab the gold paint, deciding to take his advice. You paint a square around the heart, adding depth to the top and the bottom to make it look more frame-like.
Surprisingly, it works. The frame makes the heart look like it’s out of her chest completely, like the woman in the painting is saving it for someone to take. You like the symbolism.
You take a step back and initial in the corner, marking the piece complete.
“That.. that worked?” Jughead’s voice makes you jump. You turn to him with the still-wet paint brush and silently threaten to mark his beanie if he scares her again.
He puts up his hands in surrender and you smile at him, “What? I just didn’t think it would, or that you’d actually take my advice for once.” he smirks.
“Shut up, you don’t give terrible advice…” you say nudging him on the shoulder again, “all the time.” you add.
You turn back to the painting, and then you put the brush in some water to soak and take off the smock.
“Pop’s?” he asks, and you nod, rolling your eyes. You walk out of the art room and turn off the lights to the girl with a frame around her heart.
I’d love to be the one to make you laugh
A few weeks go by, and Jughead has made the decision to investigate the Jason Blossom murder, and has even decided to write a novel about it. Because of this, he becomes distant.
He even starts hanging out with Betty Cooper.
You have nothing against Betty Cooper, by any means, you’re only slightly jealous because deep down you know that he’s starting to like her.
You want Jughead to be happy, and in the end if that’s not with you, you’re going to have to deal with it.
You swallow your pride, and every time he brings her up you listen intently, nodding and offering advice. He mainly asks about what they should do to proceed with the case, and since that has nothing to do with his relationship with her, you’re fine with answering them.
He still finds time for you, so it’s not like he’s completely distancing himself, but you do notice a slight shift in the way he acts. He’s nervous around you now, like he has something to hide, a secret, but you only catch glimpses of it.
Soon, a rumor starts going around school that he’s asked out Betty, and you sink into yourself for a few days, not talking to anyone, to deal with the news. You want to text him about it, but you don’t feel like it’s your place. You resign yourself into being the best friend, the sister figure in his life. Somewhere deep down you’ve always known that’s what you would always be to him. Now there is no way around it.
The week after hearing the news, you walk towards Pop’s on a Friday night. This is, without a doubt, one of your favorite days of the week, not only because of the start of the weekend, but because you always meet up with Jughead for fries and a milkshake and talk about anything that you’ve missed that week.
No matter what, he’s always there waiting for you with fries and a milkshake.
Today starts as no different, until you see someone sitting in your spot across from Jughead in your regular booth.
The all too familiar blonde ponytail waves from side to side as she shakes her head and laughs at something he said.
She replies, saying something I can’t hear, because the world is blurring around me, causing tunnel vision.
He laughs in response. And not just a small chuckle like he does with you, but a full laugh with a smile nearly from ear to ear. He looks back at her and his eyes seem to look into hers, and you realize he’s never looked at you like that before.
Then he looks up and locks eyes with you, and you know that he can read exactly what you’re thinking because all of his features change. You’ve caught him in a lie, you’ve caught him with his secret, and he knows it.
You walk out the door, and it slams behind you unintentionally. You put a hand over your mouth to keep sobs from escaping.
The rumors, they’re true. You thought you had dealt with it, but seeing it in person is a whole different story.
You start walking home, afraid that you’ll never be able to make him laugh the way she just did.
I’d love to hear each thought upon your mind
I’d love to hang on close to every word that I could find
You ignore him for the weekend, and even part of the week, not able to talk to him just yet. You need time to process and to heal, and then to move on and try to find someone else. Maybe Archie Andrews?
You shake the thought from your head as soon as it enters, he’s just not your type. Nice guy, not your type.
You’re walking home from school, when you hear footsteps coming up behind you. You know who it is without even needing to look.
You ignore him for a few minutes before he says, “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”
“Oh, the uh, school talent show.” you stammer, trying to cover.
“Really?” he questions, lifting his eyebrows. He knows you too well to know when you’re lying about something like this.
“Yeah, thinking about entering it. Speed painting, maybe.” you offer, shrugging your shoulders.
“You should.” he says.
You look at him, surprised, “Really?”
“Your paintings are beautiful, you’d bring the crowd to their feet.” he compliments.
“No…” You shake it off, and you begin to notice his nerves coming back. Something’s up and you’re worried this is how he’s going to break the news that him and Betty are official.
“Yes, you would. Your art would light up any room, and not to mention the presence you would have on stage would just be stunning and…” he’s complimenting you too much.
“No, Juggie, stop.” you interrupt him, stopping and turning to face him.
“What?” he asks, his voice filled with concern.
“I don’t… I…” you struggle to admit what you’ve been hiding from him since grade school, you can’t form the words to tell him.
“(Y/N), what is it?” He puts a hand on your arm, and his touch makes you seize up, your skin growing cold.
“I can’t do this anymore.” you say abruptly, turning away from him so you can’t see his face anymore.
“Do what?” He asks, still close. He doesn’t touch you, but you know that he’s there. He’s there to hold you if you need.
“I can’t listen to you talk about me like that. I can’t. My head will get all messed up and get the wrong ideas. You have Betty, she’s your girlfriend.-” you turn back around to face him, and you can see him trying to say something, but if you don’t tell him about your secret now, you know you never will, so you hold up a hand to him to let you continue speaking, “-and trust me I know, I know I’m your best friend and that we tell each other everything. And you have no idea how much I would love to just hear you go on and on… but it’s wrong, Juggie.”
He gives you a questioning look, silent. You’re trying to hold it together, but a few tears slip from your eyes. “I’m trying to say that the one secret I haven’t told you, the one thing that I’ve kept from you all these years… is that I am in love with you. I am utterly and completely in love with you, Jughead Jones.” You admit, not able to look him in the eyes. There’s tears dripping down your cheeks, and you don’t want him to see you cry.
“God, (Y/N.” He says, gently lifting your chin to make you look at him.
“What?” you ask, voice cracking, barely a whisper.
“Betty and I… we’re just friends. I was asking her advice about this other girl, I can’t get her off my mind. I’ve been getting nervous around her, and I sound like, well, an idiot.” he admits, and now it’s your turn to be confused.
“Who? Who do you have on your mind?” you question, very aware of his body getting ever so closer to yours.
“You, ya dork.” he gives you a smirk.
“What?” you ask, nothing really computing yet.
His hands hesitate to touch you, worried about what you will say next. He drops his hand from your chin.
Suddenly, it all clicks, all of the glances, all of the nerves, all of the playful shoves and banter. It was flirting, you’ve been flirting.
You grab his neck gently, bringing his lips to meet yours, your bodies finally crashing together. His hands don’t hesitate anymore, going directly to your waist and pulling you closer, if it’s possible.
“You may be an idiot, but you’re my idiot.” you whisper once your lips part, foreheads together.
Holy shit why do you all like me so much it confuses me. I mean you’re all amazing people, but I’m surprised you guys like me this much. You are so amazing,kind ,accepting I got to meet so many wonderful people it’s great honestly to be here.
@jay-does-art , @jazminerodriguez0813 , @jcpearsall18 , @weird-lil-cloud , @undertalefan1111 , @xxpurplesketchxx and so many others that I don’t have the time to tag but ,thank you you all do really make my day whenever. I come on rp , chat or post art ,here and there so yeah thanks to you all for being my friends and such kind people!
Also second picture belongs to my good friend @jay-does-art her character Sy (used it for my main reaction lol)
Now time to hide in my corner and be flustered and confused on why so many like me and I had to put this in while I have a tiny bit of spare time.
Introverted Feeling’s value judgements are oriented by the inner world and the collective unconscious. It has a passionate tie to these inner images or ideals, as if it were chasing a dream or vision it had once upon a time. The goal isn’t to relate itself to the external environment, but to bring these inner ideals to life through Feeling. It glides over anything in the outer world that doesn’t match its subjective values; as a result, its valuations rarely appear on the surface, and the ones that do are usually negative, as if it were trying to ward off or discourage the object. For an observer, a positive feeling has to be guessed at indirectly.
The inner images that underlie the Fi type’s feelings are connected to the collective unconscious, which makes them the same “eternal truths” that guide Ti’s intellect. In fact, everything about Ti is also true of Fi, except everything arising from the inner world is felt instead of thought. However, Fi is even worse off when it comes to expressing itself – it takes an exceptional descriptive or artistic ability to get a feeling across as clearly as a logical argument.
Fi risks neglecting the outer world completely, at which point it might lose its potential for sympathy and deep personal connections. Its passion becomes morbidly egocentric and self-absorbed. It creates feelings and values for their own sake, with no bearing on reality and no capacity for expression. The Fi type’s outer life goes to an unconscious function, usually Thinking, which manifests as a slavery to facts and concrete Thinking.
The Introverted Feeling Type
This type is characterised by a life of values that is unfortunately inaccessible and hard to understand. She might hide behind a mask of childishness or banality, and in general she comes across as harmonious and pleasant, never trying to affect or change others. This conceals her true self and protects her from the outer world, but in extreme cases it might look like indifference or coldness. She is always ready for peaceful coexistence, but any stormy emotion directed towards her must be cooled off or even repelled, unless it happens to strike a chord in her unconscious.
Her relatively neutral, reserved demeanour might make it look as if she has no feelings at all – in reality, she finds expressing herself difficult, and so her passion and sympathy grow all the more intense. Inside, the sorrows of others become a whole world of misery – “still waters run deep”. She might eventually burst with feeling, perhaps in a way that seems extravagant or inappropriate, partly since her feelings are adapted to the archetypal forms of the collective unconscious and represent more than just the current situation. Normally her passion trickles out, secret and well-hidden, in religiousness, art, poetry, or intimate relationships.
However, like all introverts, she has a subconscious drive to coerce or overpower the outer world in some small way. The Ti type’s intellectual arrogance is mirrored by the Fi type’s quiet authority in matters of the heart. The mysterious depth of her feeling often has a profound effect on her peers. In a healthy type it ends there, but things deteriorate if she starts believing that this is her power, in other words if she mistakes her Ego for the source of the mysterious inner images. She risks developing a vain and mischievous superiority complex.
If this happens, her outer life goes to Thinking in the unconscious. She projects her negative, destructive Thinking onto others. She begins to see them as scheming, Machiavellian, and out to get her. She fights back in the same way (because, of course, it was only her unconscious thinking to begin with), creating plots and intrigues, eventually sacrificing her deeply-held values for the sake of winning an illusory struggle.
Request: “Maybe one where
the reader was together with Kylo before he turned to the dark side and they’re
one opposites sides in a war? The reader is force sensitive and is now together
with Rey? I don’t mind angst lolol”
Pairing: Kylo Ren x Reader
Word Count: 2071
Warnings: ANGST N DEATH OK
Ben waited for you, sitting on a rock,
twiddling with his training lightsaber while you spoke to Luke inside of the
temple. Some fellow students waved as they passed him by, one even stopping to
talk to him briefly about how gruelling the past couple of tests had been. Ben
had always been somewhat sceptical of Luke’s teaching methods, often being the
only one courageous enough to speak out against his uncle. Sometimes, he would
even take part in a short boycott of his own design, trying to spite Luke into
being gentler, more understanding. But no matter what he tried, his old tutor
would always convince him to re-join. By no means did Ben hate his uncle, he
just found that as he matured, he could find more flaws in his life, and in the
ways Luke intended to shape him into a Jedi.
Ben had never wanted to be a Jedi. He
longed to roam on board the Millennium Falcon alongside his father, discovering
all the Galaxy had to offer him. Or even taking part in the political affairs
that his mother was involved in. But no, they had given him no choice. He
thought it was so uncharacteristically cruel of his parents to force him into
this life, and then continue to bicker about it, using him as a means to drive
themselves further apart from each other. He was both the only reason they
stayed together, and the only reason they argued until their love dwindled. Even
though they had unequivocally banished him to a life under his uncle’s
demanding terms, he still longed to see them. He loved them more than anything,
well, anything apart from you.