"we Find Ourselves In A Great Rela..friendship"

He looks so done😭😭😭 more than usual

No safety. No food. No aid. No water. No healthcare. No education. Is this what it means to live? Is this what world accept as life?

If a group of animals were trapped, starved, and cut off from the world like this, people would be outraged. But because it's us—human beings—somehow, the world looks away.

These are unbearable days. Everything feels heavy. Each hour presses on my chest like I’m being suffocated.

My family needs urgent help.

Basic survival has become nearly impossible. Bread—just bread—now costs over $25 a day to make.

We are not asking for luxury. We are begging for life.

Please, if you’re reading this: help. Reblog this post. Talk about us. Donate if you can. Even a small act can mean everything right now.

#crisis #humanrights #emergency #donate #pleasehelp #tumblrcommunity #survivestories #reblogtohelp #signalboost

i feel like a victorian man seeing ankles for the first time

yeah he definitely looks broader omg 😭

rome is so pretty

Come Back.. Be Here

Jannik Sinner x Reader

You and Jannik had a brief, intense off-season romance. It was never officially labeled, just two people gravitating toward each other in quiet moments, shared coffees, late-night hotel calls, and accidental hand touches. He told you goodbye at 4 a.m. before flying out for the season, right when you were just beginning to fall. Now, he's in New York. You're in London. The time difference stretches like a chasm, and you never realized how much he took with him until you turned around and he wasn’t there anymore.

a/n: hey guys! another fic because i got an idea when i listened to taylor. i might do alot of these, just writing fics when i listen to songs. anyway, hope u like this! here's a fic based on the song come back be here, it is sad so buckle up.

You said it in a simple way.

4:00 a.m. the second day.

How strange that I don't know you at all.

You remember the time exactly. 4:08 a.m.

The soft shuffle of his suitcase wheels against the hotel carpet. The muted zip of his jacket. The dim yellow glow of the hallway light spilling into the room as he stood by the door.

He looked at you with that same calm expression he always wore after matches: neutral, unreadable, but somehow still gentle.

“I’ll text when I land,” he said.

You nodded from the edge of the bed, legs crossed, sweatshirt drowning your frame. You wanted to say something meaningful, something about how those last few weeks had meant more to you than you’d admitted aloud. But your throat was tight, and you didn’t trust your voice.

So you smiled and nodded.

And said, “Don’t forget to stretch on the plane.”

He laughed softly. Then came over. Pressed a kiss to your forehead. One last kiss. And then he was gone.

You didn’t realize it would ache like this.

Stumbled through the long goodbye. Right when I was just about to fall.

You’d told yourself it was just a thing.

Two athletes in the same city for a few weeks. Two people who liked the same quiet cafes. Who stayed up too late watching old match footage on hotel TVs. Who held hands under tables but never talked about what it meant.

You didn’t realize how hard you’d fallen, until the moment he left.

Now, everything you do feels heavy with the absence of him. The mornings feel emptier. The coffee doesn’t taste the same. The Spotify playlist you made together? You can’t even open it. Not yet.

Not when he’s posting selfies in New York.

Not when he’s half a world away and looking fine, golden, laughing, thriving.

While you’re in London, breaking.

And this is when the feeling sinks in. I don't wanna miss you like this. Come back… be here.

You miss him at the oddest moments.

On the walk back from the gym, when your headphones shuffle to a song he showed you.

In the grocery store, when you pass the same flavor of energy bar he always grabbed.

At 2 a.m., when your apartment is quiet and you’re tired of pretending you didn’t care.

You do care.

You miss him like something vital, like oxygen.

And it hurts, because you never told him. And you should've told him to stay, you should've pulled him back to the hotel bed and begged for him to stay.

The delicate beginning rush. The feeling you can know so much Without knowing anything at all.

You knew how he took his espresso; no sugar, a little foam.

You knew the exact breath he took before his serve.

You knew he hated flying and always triple-checked his passport.

But you didn’t know his middle name.

Or who he called after winning a big match.

Or whether he wanted you to ask him to stay.

You knew enough to miss him. And not enough to hold onto him.

If I had known what I know now… I never would've played so nonchalant.

You’d told yourself to stay cool. Not to get attached.

You didn’t want to be the girl who caught feelings first.

But now, you wish you’d said something. Anything.

You wish you’d kissed him harder.

You wish you’d whispered “Don’t go.”

You wish you'd done something to make him stay.

Taxi cabs and busy streets, That never bring you back to me.

It’s been three weeks.

You’re in London. He’s in New York. Then Miami. Then somewhere in between.

You see clips of him doing press, hear the way fans chant his name.

You wonder if he ever scrolls back through your texts. If he watches that video of you two at the charity gala, the one where you’re laughing, leaning into him, like there’s no world outside the frame.

You wonder if he’s still wearing the bracelet you left behind. The navy one. The one he called your lucky charm.

You wonder if he thinks of you at all. You wonder if he misses you like you miss him, in the most grueling way.

This is falling in love in the cruelest way. This is falling for you when you are worlds away.

You go about your life. You train. You stretch. You smile for cameras.

But at night, it’s different. At night, you stop pretending.

You stare at your ceiling and whisper his name like a secret, like a prayer, like an oath.

You’re not sure why you do it.

You open your phone. Scroll up to your last message with a frown, a meme you sent him the night before he left. He replied with a laughing emoji and a "you’re ridiculous."

You type.

“New York doesn’t suit you.”

You pause. Your thumb hovers just above the send button.

Then, a second message:

“Come back.”

You hit send.

You turn off your phone.

You sleep.

And you dream of him standing in that hallway again. Except this time, he doesn’t leave.

And when it happens, you're ready to make him stay.

whose face did bro serve into

JANNIK WITH A RACKET I REPEAT JANNIK WITH A RACKET

I'm celebrating 🍾 I CANT WAITT

Guess who just started writing again...