I've Been Fascinated With Barb's Character Since I Finished Fallout And I'm Glad That She Hasn't Been

@danashehab has been fundraising since may and is just over €15,000 away from their goal l. as stated in the screenshot people are starting to believe the rafah crossing will open so it’s important to make sure everyone has the funds in case they are allowed to evacuate.

thee shehab family consists of dana (13), sahar (14), mona (9), malak (5), yehya (1.5), fahed, (38), reem (32), and grandmother mona (60). they have been shadowbanned and deleted a few times. you can also find this family at @monashehab

EDIT AUG 24:

The family has had to raise their goal to cover their extended family’s evacuation fees since they are unable to make a new GFM.

The new goal is €85,000.

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Sahar and Her Family to Evacuate Gaza, organized by Ahmed Shamia

My name is Sahar Shehab. I am 14 years old from Gaza . I ask you for urgent h… Ahmed Shamia needs your support for Help Sahar and Her Famil

[vetted]

day 245

yuuji still hasn't told him the truth...

avatar au

Save me God of War Ragnarok (Prints available here)

Hii love, how are you? I have a little request if thats ok.

Gilgamesh has the most horrific nightmare ever, Thena dying in his arms, there is blood and she is in pain and when she closes her eyes one last time Gil finally wakes up, only to find Thena missing from their bed, he searchs for her like a mad man, only to find her in the kitchen drinking water, he picks her up and refuses to let her go for the rest of the day.

Gilgamesh shoots up out of bed. He's gasping for breath, sweat on his brow. He presses his palm to his chest and flexes his fingers. He looks over at Thena's side of the bed, frantic for her presence.

She isn't there.

It's still warm, though. He can see where the weight of her body wrinkles the bed sheets and he can smell the scent of her fondness for the garden. His hand slides over to it, feeling the latent warmth of her presence.

He throws back the covers, desperate to see her with his own eyes. He can still feel the weight of her body in his arms--the dead weight. What it was like to look at her face, still and motionless and cold. He can vividly recall the feeling of carrying his wife to her funeral pyre and watching her body be consumed by flame.

"Thena?!"

He runs out of their bedroom, ripping the door off its hinges--weak things in comparison to his unchecked strength. He looks around their home frantically. His heart is searching for her, the Cosmic Energy in his veins screaming for her.

She's here--he can feel her presence! It exists, she's close, and even if she weren't, her existence would tether his and pull, like ends of the same string.

"Thena!" he calls out again, moving into the kitchen. He can see everything the way they left it last night. Their chairs are pushed in lazily, his apron is thrown over the edge of the sink after she told him to hang it up where it belongs yet again. He turns, ready to break this door open too.

Then she walks in. She's unaware of the nightmare that nearly sent him into hysterics. She walks in, barefoot as always, her long white dress dancing around her legs. The sun streams in behind her, lighting her bright blonde hair like an angel's halo.

"What are you yelling about?" she asks as if he's been shouting at the tv again. "I could hear you all the way from the water tower. I just looked over the garden, although th-!"

She stumbles, although any creature from this planet would have been plowed through the far wall from sheer force. But she corrects her footing, letting him latch onto her and hold her for all the eternal life in him.

He whimpers, burying his face against her shoulder. He inhales the scent of her breath, absorbs the warmth of her through her cotton dress, hears the beat of her heart as his own syncs to it.

"Gilgamesh?" she asks without asking. She runs her fingers through his hair, but he remains cloistered around her. Her face turns to kiss his temple, "what ever could be so wrong?"

She has no idea. He nuzzles the side of her neck, "don't move."

She sighs for the sake of sighing, but she does as he asks. Her fingers run through the hair on top of his head lightly and soothingly. Her other hand rubs his back. He, the Strongest Eternal, truly dwarfs her lithe frame in size. But she lets him lean on her like a tree losing its strength.

Eventually his nervous system puts out its own fire. The fear in his mind settles enough for him to open his eyes. He stays close, pressing his nose against her skin as he drags it up her neck and her jaw until he holds her cheeks to look at her--really look at her.

Thena blinks at him, her marvelously green eyes gone wide and adorable. They close as he leans in for a kiss. When they part, her lips are pulled into a smile. "Will you tell me now?"

"No," he denies, and kisses her again. He gives many more kisses, receiving her return with each. He does that until he feels strong enough to take even half a step away from her. He sighs, letting his shoulders drop, tilting his head as he gazes upon his beautiful wife.

"Gil," she prompts him more gently. Her eyelashes flutter, and her concern for him travels through her palm as she slides it up his chest and then to his cheek as well. They have been married several hundred years, and she will get an answer out of him sooner than later.

He sighs again, wrapping his arms around her and moving her to the sink, where she pours water for them. "Just a bad dream."

"Hm." It's obviously more than just a bad dream. But she leaves it at that, because their days now are full of small battles, not large ones. She raises the glass to his lips for him, as if they were wearied after the Trojan War again.

He remains wrapped around her. He can't let her go. The fear that lived in his mind during that dream hasn't left yet. It's still there, watching him despite the light of day.

Thena takes a sip for herself. "Sit?"

He makes a small sound of agreement. She moves towards the table but he prevents her from separating from him again. "Couch."

He can imagine her rolling her eyes, although it's only for the humour of it. She moves past the kitchen table and towards their more comfortable space. She seats herself and lets him seat himself around her, cradling her against him preciously. "The door?"

He grunts; he'll fix it later.

Once reclined on their couch, he breathes a little easier. This is more familiar and gentle. This is where they've spent sunny afternoons together. Sometimes they read together, sometimes he reads and she sleeps on him the way a cat would. She never liked those creatures.

He would run his fingers through her hair and sometimes she would idly rub his back. They would spend evenings here reminiscing about their thousands upon thousands of years together. Sometimes they would go out to their hammock and watch the stars.

Thena settles herself in his arms. She turns over, letting her head tuck itself under his chin, her hand over his heart with his arms wrapped around her. "Better?"

He nods. They speak the other's language--a way of understanding that only they two have. Usually it's she who has few words to offer but even now, with him being reticent, she understands it.

They sit like this for a long time. He watches the shadows rise and stretch and fall in the other direction. When it's in the windows and on them he moves his hands, only to shield her from the direct touch of its rays.

That privilege is for him and him alone. By the second time he does this she turns over again. He's not entirely certain if she's truly gone to sleep or not. But holding her, feeling the rise and fall of her chest, the way she feels comfortable with him; he feels eased.

Thena senses this. She sneaks one of her arms around his back and against the couch. The other she toys with the opening at the neck of his shirt. Her pale, pearly nail taps against his skin. "Now?"

The Warrior Eternal is not a patient woman.

Although, she has expended more patience than he has seen from her in quite a long time. For beings with all the time in the world, she is not the best at watching it go by. At least not with the menial. When they were first raising chickens, he could swear she would observe the eggs every quarter hour.

"Bad dream," he repeats from earlier. He already knows she knows this, and he already knows she knows how bad it is to have him this paranoid. He squeezes her shoulder. "Terrible, really."

"Hm," she encourages him, moving her hand from his shirt to his neck, cupping his jaw from below. She strokes it, pulling the words from him with her gentle touch.

"You..." he pauses. He doesn't want to lie to her, even if it's by omitting the truth. "I killed you."

"Impossible."

It's not, and they're well aware of it. But Thena speaks of it lightly, and he likes to think it's because she knows that he would take the utmost care of her, even in a nightmare.

"Felt possible," he argues, pursing his lips as he tries to get the image of her still and unblinking face out of his head. His face gets moved, tilted down to look at her lying on him. It's upside down, but this image of her is much better. He smiles.

Thena smiles too, leaning up to kiss him, letting their lips stretch no matter how far to do so. Hers are always so plump and luscious, like berries. He wants to grow berries here for her, but the ground is simply too dry.

She runs her fingers through his hair again, letting her palm press against his forehead. "It's gone now."

It's such a simple statement, but she's right. As soon as a dream happens, it's already a thing of the past. And maybe he will remember it for a long time to come. Maybe pieces of it will always be with him. But it's not in front of him now, she is.

Thena laughs as he stands suddenly, spinning them around with her hands around his neck. "What has gotten into you?"

He just gazes at her, lucky enough to have his own version of a star to brighten and dazzle and illuminate his every moment on this green and blue spec of cosmos. "Do you remember coming home like this?"

He's carried her like this plenty of times. But she knows what he means; he means the first time he carried her inside like this, as his wife. She nods, stroking his cheek again.

"Y'know, I hear humans can get married again sometimes," he grins, refusing to let the dream colour any more of the beautiful present with his beautiful wife. "They call it renewing your vows."

"We didn't make vows."

Ah, his wife, ever the romantic. He chuckles, touching the tip of his nose to hers. "We can make some this time."

"Construct some poetry for the benefit of a strange human to witness?" she scoffs at the utter absurdity.

"You would write me poetry?" he asks and receives another bubbly laugh.

"I would consider it," she appeals as he spins them one more time and sits with her again. She remains in his hold, on his lap, curled against him. "But for your eyes only. A mortal mind could never wrap its mind around what we have been through together."

That is true. Their love isn't for a mortal to comprehend. He is immortal, and sometimes he's left in awe of it. He stares at his wife, wondering if he should learn to weave so he can make a glorious tapestry devoted to every second - every minute, every hour - he's had with her.

He has all the time in the world.

It’s all over but the crying ☢️

Captain America: The Winter Soldier | 2014 Captain America: Brave New World | 2025

good movie