#*tiktok voice* haven’t i given enough?

[lxinesux]

sometimes i do miss you.

but then i realize i don’t really miss who you were, i miss your presence. i miss who i thought u were. i miss having someone who i thought loved me unconditionally.

i did the same thing u did lol

[pancakehauses]

Hello :) I hope you don’t mind me coming into your ask box when we haven’t been mutuals that long. I just wanted to say hi, talk a bit about Lizzy Parker’s performance which I got to see on Friday, and commiserate on the Next to Normal Broadway fan castings if that’s alright with you. 

I have now seen both Lizzy and Eleanor perform and while I loved them both for different reasons Eleanor is The Natalie™ for me. They both have incredible voices and Lizzy’s has a depth to it which I really love.

(I’m not quite sure the best way to format the differences between their performances so I’m just gonna go with a list explaining their dynamics with the different characters. Also for the sake of ease I’ll refer to Eleanor’s Natalie as E!Natalie and Lizzy’s as L!Natalie.)

Relationship with Henry

I think L!Natalie starts off much more in love with Henry than E!Natalie. She’s a young girl trying to joyfully experience her first love whereas E!Natalie almost seems to develop a crush on him against her will, a little warier of love given her parents’ relationship. When they are fighting during ‘Why Stay/A Promise’ E!Natalie feels as though she wants him to leave to protect herself from yet another relationship wherein she can’t be enough whereas L!Natalie wants him to leave to protect him from her father’s fate. 

Relationship with Dan

E!Natalie’s yell of ‘She trusts you!’ when she realises Dan is going to sign on for Diana to do ECT still rings in my head now. She feels more personally betrayed by his decision which fuels her anger whereas L!Natalie feels more scared. E!Natalie has coped very similarly to Dan by deeply repressing her needs and emotions. L!Natalie’s emotions seem to sit a lot closer to the surface and so her sadness and anger and love reveals themselves more easily, whereas E!Natalie is far more exhausted and has pushed her feelings down for so long that when she does express them they are at full force. E!Natalie’s ‘Light’ was a demonstration of strength and an imitation of what she has seen her father do growing up. For L!Natalie it seemed to come from a place of youthful hope, a surety in herself she has developed from Henry’s reassurances and her reconciliation with her mother.  

Relationship with Gabe

Obviously they don’t interact much, but while I thought I’d find Jack W and Lizzy more convincing siblings because they’re both brunettes, Eleanor and Jack look more siblings like to me. They both have quite fine features and Lizzy looks a bit older than Jack which breaks the immersion of her being the younger sister a bit imo. L!Natalie’s reaction to when Gabe touches her hand is quite obvious, and E!Natalie’s is more subtle. 

Relationship with Diana

Now for the big one. E!Natalie comes across as more resentful towards Diana, with the understanding they share during ‘Maybe’ feeling like an elastic band that’s finally snapped. L!Natalie seems more upset and confused by her. Their ‘Maybe’ is more like two people truly seeing one another for the first time, and realising they have more in common than they thought. When L!Natalie is arguing about going ‘crazy’ with Henry, it’s this sudden realisation she’s having that she could turn out just like Diana, whereas E!Natalie is finally expressing this longtime, deeply held fear she’s had. E!Natalie’s humour is also much dryer and similar to Diana’s, whereas L!Natalie’s has more of a lightheartness to it. 

Ultimately they are both very talented actors and I’d love to see them in more stuff. 

As for the Broadway N2N fan castings I’m glad someone else is as annoyed (for lack of a better word) as I am. I’m not sure what rumours you’ve seen (I’m literally checking TikTok, the theatreboard and Broadway World forums, and even Reddit regularly to get any hints at what might be going on). They all seem to be confident in a transfer but mostly arguing about whether it will be 2025 or 2026. Personally I hope it’s 2025 cause I’m not sure if I can wait until 2026. Caissie obviously transfers and Jack Wolfe seems plausible? Obviously he’s won a bunch of awards for it so that would seem like the move but what do I know? I saw people saying that Jamie Parker isn’t doing Benjamin Button because he’s doing the transfer and while I’d love that to be true I’m not sure how much I believe it. I haven’t seen any mumblings about Eleanor at all which terrifies me cause I need the family to stay together and them all to get a shot at the Tonys after they were robbed at the Oliviers. 

Along with the Lizzy McAlpine fan casting the Aaron Tveit as Dan casting also really bothers me. I don’t think he’s right for the role at all and after seeing the wonderful stage chemistry that Jamie and Caissie have developed, I just can’t imagine her alongside another actor. 

My kind of unrelated thought is that I need to see Eleanor and Jack W play siblings that actually actively interact in something else at some point (preferably a TV show or film so I can watch it forever). I so think they’d pull off a regency era/royalty story, but alternatively I would love to see them in a horror film. 

Anyway, I hope you’re having a great day! (And apologies for how long this is!)

Oh my god this was the best surprise to find in my ask box. Truly, I am always happy to talk about this show (though you are able to articulate character choices waaay better than I can). So thank you so much for this.

As someone who has seen the show six times but never caught Lizzy, I am so grateful for this breakdown. And I feel like you articulated Eleanor's portrayal so perfectly which makes the portrayal differences so clear to me, even without me ever seeing Lizzy. Honestly, think I need to do a Lizzy audio listen-through with this in front of me. Will give me such a good sense of what she's doing.

Also, I was so curious about Lizzy potentially feeling older than him on stage, just cause I could see that happening. So I'm glad you mentioned that.

Regarding the transfer, we are the same. I am also checking theatreboard and BWW forums basically daily for any updates. Based on rumors and Jack saying in multiple interviews that he's "clinging on to the ankles of N2N as long as can" (or something along those lines), it does feel quite likely he'll do a transfer. (Though my paranoia can't help but be like, you know he could be 30 by the time a transfer happens. Playing an 18 year old. Which feels weird even though he has the face to pull it off lol). Yeah, very few rumors on Eleanor and I feel like the Jamie was stuff was just speculation based on the BB casting and not based on anything credible. But I don't know, I still hold out hope that they would take the whole family as a unit.

And lol at you seeing the same fancasting tweet I did. I really don't think Tveit could pull of the Dan this production needs and it feels almost insulting to Jamie to suggest it? Even though I know the people that say Tveit probably have never watched any of N2N UK. So I try to remind myself that.

[the-lonelybarricade]

for a future request, on rhys' birthday (set for the end of rhys week), we see grim!rhys get his first every birthday party thrown by the love of his not-life

Happy end of RhysWeek and happy birthday to the most handsome High Lord!! I hope you all enjoy the return of Grim!Rhys for this fun, silly lil oneshot!

RhysWeek Day 7: Free Day - Till Death Do Us Part

Words: 2.2k

-

“I know I haven’t been walking the mortal plane very long, Feyre darling…”

Rhysand’s voice drifted through the speaker of the phone Feyre had set against the counter. Her husband’s smirking face stared up at her from the screen—a picture he’d commandeered her phone in order to take and subsequently assign to his contact, which he’d renamed Most Handsome Husband In All The Realms.

Feyre had told him she hadn’t exactly been to the other realms to verify if that was true. So now it read Most Handsome Grim Reaper Husband. Rhysand assured her there was only one of those, so he was certain to be the most handsome. Meanwhile, her contact was still saved in his phone as Most Beautiful Soul In All the Realms. He insisted he had already done all the fact checking necessary on that statement.

“...but I am fairly certain there’s no such thing as lemon flavored tampons.”

She pressed her lips together to stifle a laugh.

“They’re there, Rhys,” she said, forcing an air of exasperation that she thought sounded convincing. “And if you really can’t find them, I’ll take the orange flavored ones.”

“I’ve looked everywhere, darling.” She heard him sigh. “There’s some with yellow boxes, but I’ve read the backs and they don’t say anything about flavoring… I don’t even understand what flavoring would be for?”

Feyre pursed her lips considerately. Then she said, “You know how last month, you drank pineapple juice every morning so that you’d, um, taste better in my mouth?”

“... Yeah?”

“It’s kind of like that.”

“But I like the way you taste already!” He protested.

He sounded so offended that she couldn’t even put any heart into shushing him. “Rhys, people at the store might hear you. Our neighbors could be there.”

“I don’t care if the neighbors know I enjoy eating out my wife,” he said, pointedly loud. Feyre wasn’t even there and could feel her face getting hot. “What I care about, is you putting something in your body to change your already perfect—” he voice scraped on the word—“taste. Especially when tampons can already give you Toxic Shock Syndrome. Do you know that 2-3 people die—”

“Every year, yeah, yeah. It’s a good thing I’m married to the Grim Reaper then.”

He huffed. “If it gives you a UTI, then we can’t have se—”

“Rhsyand,” she said sternly. He immediately stopped talking. “Please, just get me what I asked for.”

“But darl—”

Feyre quickly tapped the red ‘end call’ button, cutting off anything further Rhys had to say about the subject.

She was relieved—for many reasons—that he hadn’t quite gotten into social media. Otherwise he would have undoubtedly given himself some not-so-subtle handle like OfficialGrimReaper and would have already convinced all their friends and family that he was involved in organized crime. But, more importantly, he would have seen the videos making the rounds on tiktok of people asking their partner’s to get them flavored tampons.

And then he would have known she was sending him on a wild goose chase.

If Rhysand wasn’t reaping souls, he was spending every waking moment by her side. Weekends were usually dedicated to cuddling on the sofa and watching the sitcom reruns he found endlessly fascinating. But today, she’d faked a period emergency and had asked him to run to the store. And the donut shop, for cravings. And Starbucks, for an emotional pick-me-up. All in the hopes that it would buy her enough time to get a cake in the oven.

Once it was cooking, she took to tying balloons. Mor had dropped off a box of them—always happy to assist if it meant pulling something over on Rhys. Mor believed the death birthday theme was a play on Rhysand growing older, and had thought it was hilarious. She’d even gotten a little gravestone RIP my youth cake decoration to go along with candles that read LOST COUNT.

Eventually, Feyre was left with a sea of black and gray balloons, and fingers sore from an hour spent twisting elastic around them. She didn’t know how much longer she had until Rhysand gave up trying to please her—which she knew was an extreme last resort for her husband—so she tried to be as quick as possible in assembling the balloons in an arch. Once that was finished, she took the packet of tombstone and skull confetti she’d bought and mixed it in with standard black birthday confetti. She smiled as she sprinkled it over their countertops, thinking Rhysand would enjoy the irony.

Her heart raced, each beat drawing her closer to her husband coming home. She couldn’t wait to see his reaction.

She was nearly finished decorating by the time the cake timer pinged. She set it on the counter to cool, the ganache ready to pour over as soon as it came to room temperature.

The only thing Feyre had left to do was scatter black flower petals towards the bedroom, where he’d find one of his many gifts waiting for him.

She was almost finished with the final touches. If she could just get the stupid ribbon curl right. She couldn’t find where she’d put the scissors and had decided that a paring knife would surely be just as effective. But now she was on her fifth attempt, and she could feel the time ticking past. Rhys wasn’t stupid. Any minute he’d—

“If you wanted me home sooner, using a phone is just as effective as killing yourself with that knife.”

Feyre shrieked in surprise, whirling around to find Rhys standing at her back. He held two plastic bags in one hand, and a tray of coffee in the other. She tried to ignore the way he’d craned his head over her shoulder, peering at her work in open curiosity.

He held up his cluttered hands when he saw she was still wielding the knife. Feyre didn’t consider how threateningly she was brandishing it until she glanced down and saw it was poised towards his chest.

“Whoa, there darling. Have I driven you so far as murder already?” He clicked his tongue. “I know that one in five murders are committed by the victim’s partner, but… I personally think you’d have a hard time contributing to that statistic.” He leaned into the tip, letting the point indent his shirt. “Sharp things don’t tend to work on me.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “We’ve talked about you sneaking up on me like this.”

“Walking is such a chore,” he complained. He set the plastic bags on the floor so he could carefully maneuver a coffee into her hand, exchanging it for the knife like a hostage negotiator. “And it’s what killed you. Which I supposed worked out well in my favor, but isn’t exactly a glowing endorsement.” He leveled a stare towards the black petals scattered over the bed, and the wrapped present—glaringly devoid of ribbon curls—sitting in its center. “What were you up to, anyhow?”

Oh no. The cake.

“I can’t say yet.” She pursed her lips, looking to the coffee in her hand and the bags on the floor. She could see the box of donuts from her favorite bakery, as well as tampons that were likely not lemon flavored.

Rhys offered her a flat look. “Your bedridden cramps seem remarkably better. The woman at the store laughed when I asked her if they had any lemon flavored tampons.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, this time unable to contain her laugh. “I promise I’ll make it up to you, just…” she glanced around, before pointing to the closet. “Will you wait in there? For like… five minutes?”

He raised a brow. “You want me to sit in a closet for five minutes?”

“Five minutes isn’t that bad,” she hedged. “Some people do it for years.”

“It better be a good surprise,” he grumbled, begrudgingly walking over to the door. Obedient to the last, even with a pout on his face. “You know I’m afraid of the dark. I’ll need my pretty wife to kiss it better.”

“I promise I will.” She offered him one right then, just because she adored him. He’d gone to so much effort for her fake period, and she hoped he’d think her surprise was worth it. Once he was inside—comically too tall for the cramped space—she shut the door behind him, throwing in a “no peeking!” before it softly shut.

And then she was racing towards the kitchen, quickly pouring the ganache over the cake. She took her time in piping out in elegant white icing Happy Birthday, Rhysand!

Once she’d added and lit the candles, she called, “Okay, you can come out!”

Rhys appeared immediately on the other side of the counter. She might have been startled again if she hadn’t been expecting it. Instead she beamed at him, arranging the cake so he could see what was written on it.

His eyes went wide.

“Happy birthday to you…” she sang, reading his reaction carefully. The way his eyes kept flickering to the cake, then to her face, and back. “...Happy birthday dear Rhysand. Happy birthday to you.”

“I don’t have a birthday,” he said once she was finished. His frown creased a line beneath his lip. “I was never born.”

Feyre shrugged. “You have a mortal life now so I thought… you should get to have a birthday, too.”

“My mortal life started the day you died.” His brows merged as he tried to make sense of it. “Shouldn’t that be my birthday?”

“Well, that’s technically our wedding anniversary,” she said, shooting him a look that earned her a shameless grin in return. “But I was walking past St. Paul's Cathedral when I died. And you know where I was heading back from?”

His eyes softened. “20 Fenchurch Street. You’d just had lunch there.”

“That’s right.” She smiled. “So I thought your birthday should be on the 20th. And I picked November because… I think being a Scorpio suits you.”

Rhysand’s throat bobbed. He looked back at the cake, and the moisture in his eyes reflected the candles.

“Blow them out,” she whispered. “And when you do, you’re supposed to close your eyes and make a wish.”

“I already have everything I could possibly wish for,” he said. But his eyes still fluttered shut when he leaned over to blow them out.

Part of her wanted to ask what he wished for. If only because she knew it would be something tooth-rotting sweet. Feyre had been falling in love with him so reluctantly in the last year. She hadn’t meant to—she hadn't wanted to—but for her entire life, up until the moment she’d died, Feyre had never known how it felt to be put first by anyone. And now she knew how that felt every waking minute.

So she’d thrown him a surprise birthday in the hopes it would return even a fraction of the love he regularly showed her. And from the way he was staring at the confetti on the table, lips softly parted with awe, she thought that maybe she’d done a good job of it.

“Happy first year of life, Death.”

Rhys laughed. It was a shorter sound than usual. Choked by the unshed tears still glistening in his eyes as he continued to take it all in. The balloons. The flower petals. The writing on the cake.

“Our friends are coming over in a few hours,” she said. “You’re going to get the whole mortal birthday experience. Getting drunk, playing games, complaining about how old you’re getting. All of it.”

He quirked a brow. “And just how old do they think I am?”

“I didn’t say.” She grinned as she looked down at the LOST COUNT candles. “I told them you’re insecure about it.”

Rhysand shook his head, but he was smiling now.

“I was thinking, you might want to open your presents before they come over.” Feyre stepped around the counter, skimming her fingers over the countertop as she went. “They’re not exactly… appropriate.”

“Oh?” Once she was close enough, Rhys caught her by the hips. Impatient to touch her, as always. “Well then perhaps our friends shouldn’t come over at all.”

“Ah, that’s not in the spirit of your birthday,” she teased. “You’ll have to suffer through the very human experience of attending social events when you’d rather be doing something else.”

“Someone else,” he corrected with a sly smile.

Feyre nudged him towards the flower petals. “Behave, birthday boy. Go open your gift.”

The excitement in his eyes as they returned to their bedroom was yet another uniquely human experience she was happy to share with him. That childlike spark of joy that she was only just beginning to experience herself. She felt a share of it, watching his eyes go wide as he pulled away the decorative paper on his presents.

Though Rhysand hadn’t been able to find any flavored tampons, Feyre was pleased to introduce him to other unusual things that humans flavored. And as with any new thing he discovered in the mortal realm, Rhysand was very eager to try it.

[russilton]

I think there is also a problem in the Mercedes media (I don’t know what to call it correctly, PR department??) I don’t understand what they want to achieve, I understand they are shifting attention to their future racer and that’s understandable, but you don’t have to put on this whole show? This is unprofessional and literally a shot in their head, like we literally have a Ferrari with Sainz and everything is fine with them

I don’t think they’re putting a show on purpose, I think it’s half being given a shitty hand and half fumbling the hand they were given

The key difference between Carlos and Lewis is that Lewis chose to walk, Carlos was fired. The energy is different. Carlos doesn’t have a team to go to and acting anything less than like a good team player reduces his hireability, though his PR team is thoroughly shooting themselves in the leg by continuing to leak his offers. I would put money down it was his team that leaked the Lewis news in the first place, they have more holes in them than a sieve someone took a shotgun too. But I digress.

The team are stuck in a rock and a hard place and at the head of it making them remain there is Toto. Every third word from him is more and more confusion and water muddying about who’s going to place in the seat. It makes both George and Lewis look shit, and fires up their bases to continue the belief that their drivers are being ignored or demeaned. The car being shit means everyone is pointing fingers at who’s at fault, the drivers are frustrated, the media is hounding them — the fact I have five different quotes about George saying Lewis is the teammate he wants shows you how much he’s been asked. The fans are frustrated their drivers are frustrated and the small minority who think they can shout their way to a better car are going to yell like their lives depend on it.

This is the shit hand. I wouldn’t know how to manage that on a good day, let alone week in week out confusion about where you will place each race, the monetary commitments to sponsors, protecting your drivers privacy while getting content- there’s a reason mick and fred are the ones rolling around on the floor doing tiktoks not george and Lewis— it’s their job to manage this but it doesn’t make it easy.

And they are fumbling the shit out of it. There’s so many stupid mistakes like the idiotic podium tweets, the bad blocking choices, the focus on mechanics rather than posting about drivers and behind the scenes people want to see. Just today we got Lewis bullying the garage for their song choices, and the groundhog video, they clearly have sweet content to post they just refuse to do it for some reason.

But at the end of all of this it’s fucking twitter, people are spending far, far too much time obsessing over it. The drivers don’t care about what the fucking merc socials are posting, we have to accept that. People cling to it because it’s the closest link we have to them and it ends up representing the voice people put to Mercedes, but Dan paddock or whoever the fucks running the twitter these days has 0 say in the management choices of merc as a whole, it’s just some admin who’s at work. You can’t use the socials as a direct informant on how merc is managing its drivers because that’s just not how it works.

And please (not you specifically but in general) stop counting social media posts. I haven’t met a person who does who is happy but I’ve sure met plenty who let it drive them fucking insane. And I’m talking the George fans who used to cry that they didn’t post enough about him every week- the irony is astounding.

That’s all I have to say about merc socials anymore honestly, I just don’t think it matters. You’re talking to the guy they posted art without credit from once, I know they fumble shit on the reg. Unless they start posting unrelenting pride tweets or shit like Hamrussy again, they’re not gonna be doing what I want anyway

[gnarlymetalghost]

okay so my boyfriend broke up with me (for reasons that feel dumb to me but are very real for someone who has anxiety), i convinced him to just go on a break, blah blah blah we talked again and i think i fucked it up royally because i told him he was being immature about it. i need to apologize to him but i’m worried that the more i talk to him, the less there will be to save. i’m just gonna write it down here instead.

i’m sorry i said that you were being immature. i’m a lot like my dad and i have a lot of tendencies towards black and white thinking. it seems immature to me, but the anxiety about making the right decisions is so real.

for me, i don’t think anyone is the right choice. any number of people can be the right choice. i think that if you find someone who you want to have experiences with, that’s enough. you have to choose that person, with all of their issues and assets. and it’s stupid and terrible because there’s always gonna be a voice in the back of your head that’s saying “did i make the right choice? did sierra make the right choice?” but it doesn’t matter, it’s a good enough choice for right now.

the culture we live in and grew up in is stupid but we can’t escape it and we’re living with the programming, as hard as we’re trying to escape it. i’m not holding you to forever. i’m not holding you for eternity. i think i would if you let me, but i don’t know if i’ve seriously considered marrying you. it could be fun, but i’m not thinking about it because that’s not where we are yet. i’m enjoying life with you right now. that’s enough. if you’re scared about a future, i’m just holding you to tomorrow. and we take it day by day. the pressure you’re putting on yourself is unfair, i wish you could let yourself be casual about it.

there’s a lot of language that’s thrown around about it that weigh really heavy on people in our situation. “when you know you know” is comforting to some people but to me it feels like when someone says “you’ll know when you feel the spirit.” how? is it heightened emotions or is it god? do i love you or am i horny? and what is love? because i don’t feel butterflies for you all the time. sometimes i feel scared we’re running out of things to talk about. and then i get stressed because is that real or is it because my period is about to start? but then i’m laying in bed scrolling through tiktok and all i can think about is sending them to you and texting you about how crazy my grandma is and asking if you wanna watch saw x when i see you next. relationships ebb and flow but they take work. i want to put in the work.

i’m sorry that it feels like i’m throwing away a friendship for the both of us. i have had big feelings for you for a long time, and i understand how that’s scary for you. time and time again we’ve had this conversation about whether or not we should date, and i sacrificed myself to maintain the status quo. i didn’t want to lose you, i didn’t want you to lose me. but in doing so, you’ve never known what it’s like when i’m not around. i keep creating an environment where you don’t lose anything but i feel like the world is crumbling. i thought i was being mature because it take a big person to stay friends with someone they love, but maybe i’m just not a big person. maybe it’s not the mature thing for me to do when i let myself hurt so much so that you stay. maybe the mature thing is to finally let us both feel the loss. and if i can survive it and it’s permanent, then it is what it is. these boundaries i set were not an easy decision because there’s comfort in the pain of keeping you around on your terms, and i already fucking miss you.

i don’t give up on things. i’ve 100%ed every video game i’ve ever played, i’ve never given up on a book no matter how long it takes me, and i’ve finished every movie i’ve ever started. it’s probably an annoying trait. but by god i haven’t given up on you yet and im not going to now. i want to work through this. and every time we do this stupid dance, we always end up closer than before, despite my best efforts. i wanted to keep you at arms length but you ended up in my arms instead. i said it before but i maintain my conviction: the attraction, our friendship, and being a health partnership is a good enough reason to continue this path, regardless of if it’s right or not. i still think it’s too soon to tell, even for me, as happy as i’ve been for the last two months.

but if it’s just not going to work, i’m gonna miss you. some of my favorite things were when you put your arms around me at the Collective Soul concert. i was still nervous that you weren’t attracted to me, and it made me feel good that you wanted to be close with all of those people around. i’m gonna miss watching movies. film analysis while holding hands is my love language. i’m gonna miss my hands in the hair on the back of your neck, i’m gonna miss seeing you play the bass, i’m gonna miss being able to simply glance at you and know that you thought of the exact same joke that i did without even saying it out loud. you don’t know if you’ll be in love with me, and that’s okay. because even if you were never in love with me, i think these things were love. i don’t think love is as deep as the people around us make it out to be. i think that love is the act of choosing.

if this is permanent and we don’t stay together, the door is always open. i’ll always want you around if you want to come back. inversely, if i get over you and can broach the topic of being friends without feeling the heartache, i hope you’ll leave that door open for me.

i’m sorry again, for all of it. thank you again, for all of it.

[hungergames2023]

Topic: Social Media

How do we decide on what’s important right now? There is so many different things going on all at once, it’s hard to keep up with and exhausting holding the weight of it all.

Right now, I’m bouncing between social media apps trying to figure out what to write to about. I guess I’ll start with that. This; the U.S Congress is gearing up with ban the social media app Tiktok due to it allegedly gathering information on its users. It also being owned by China, which the U.S has been butting heads with for awhile.

But I don’t think that’s why they are trying to ban the app. During the 2023 Midterm Elections, the Republican Party struggled immensely. Why? Because of the massive and amazing turnout of young, first time voters that went to the poles prepared.

How were they prepared? Because social media apps like Tiktok that amplified voices and made news about important issues more accessible to hundreds of users.

Especially younger voices. Now, I’m am not old nor as young as others but if I had a dollar for every time older adults told me to shut up because I haven’t been around long enough to know anything about anything I’d probably be living life a little better than I am now.

I know how it feels to be told that I don’t know anything; but I do see and hear what our elected officials are saying about us younger generations. And to be honest, I fucking pisses me off that they demand respect when they do not respect us.

TikTok has given so many of us a platform; either to discuss major issues or to entertain others. The app has so many of us connected in a way other apps don’t, and maybe that’s why Republicans don’t like it; because when we’re United, we’re stronger.

After all, when abusers start cutting us off from our friends, family and others, it’s time to fucking go and fight back.

[itsallyscorner]

“Move the plans”

Pairing: Florence Pugh x actress!reader (platonic)

Summary: Florence tells you to cancel your plans when she ends up in New York.

Warnings: Nothing really bad. Mentions lactose intolerance? Idk if that’s sensitive to people. Probably some spelling errors.

A/n: Hello darlings! I’m back from my unannounced break. I decided to write a platonic Florence fic because she’s a sweetheart and I loved her as Yelena! Also for those who follow me, don’t worry, I will be working on a sequel to my Tom Holland “Sour” fic!! But for now, please enjoy this fic!😚💕

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

(Loml)

✧───── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *. ☽.* :★. ─────✧

You stood backstage in front of a mirror, looking at your appearance and making sure there were no wrinkles on the dress you wore. Your hairstylist was behind you, fluffing your hair and managing the stray baby hairs on your head. You were currently at NBC Studios in New York City, about to do an interview with the infamous, Jimmy Fallon. Tingles buzzed through your skin as you heard the cheers and music from the stage. Jimmy’s voice can be heard faintly backstage, only adding to your growing excitement.

The sound of heels clicking approached you, it took less than a second for you to feel the warm presence of Florence behind you. The both of you were starring in the upcoming Black Widow movie alongside Scarlett Johansson; after months of working together and spending days hanging out, you and Florence had become very close friends. She was, without a doubt, your favorite person in the world. Since the moment you met her, she had always been the most sweetest and caring person you’ve ever met—and you were proud to say you had her in your corner.

You met Flo’s eyes in the mirror and bright smiles were instantly on your faces. Turning around, you open your arms wide, and wrap them around her. Bear hugs were a must in your friendship with Flo, you both just loved receiving hugs from each other.

“Ahhh! I told you that dress would be perfect for tonight, you look stunning!” She squealed, tightening her arms around you. A day before Jimmy Fallon, you and Flo had been at your place with your stylist, picking out which dress you should wear for the interview. The dress was casual, but the color was so ever vibrant that it made the dress pop.

You pulled out the hug and looked at what she was wearing. Her gorgeous blonde hair was curled into loose locks and her dress was just as vibrant as yours. The pink of her dress and the orange (yellowish?) of yours complimented each other. Which coincidentally enough, was a parallel of your lovely friendship with Florence.

“Me? Flo, you look gorgeous! I’m so obsessed with this look!” You help her twirl, hyping her up as she showed off her outfit. After sneaking in a little mirror selfie and posting it onto Instagram, the two of you were given a five minute warning from one of the crew members. You and Flo were moved to stand behind the curtain, waiting for your cues to walk onto the stage.

While the two of you were getting mic’d up, Florence leaned closer to you.

“Can I be completely honest with you?” She mumbled, her stare remaining on the curtain before her. Your brow raises in curiosity as your head slightly turns to look at her.

“Of course, hun. What’s up?” You ask, your attention on her. She sighs and leans even closer so only you can hear her.

“I feel like I’m about to shit my pants.” She admits, swallowing nervously. Your mouth gapes, “Did you have iced coffee too?”

Flo’s face scrunches up in confusion, “N-no! That was me telling you I was nervous! Did you have iced coffee?” She fully turns to look at you and judging by the look of guilt plastered across your face, you did in fact have iced coffee.

“Maybe?” You answer, though it came out more like a question. Florence rolls her eyes at you.

“(Y/n), how many times do you have to be reminded that you’re lactose intolerant?” She scolded you.

You scoff, holding a hand up at her, “Trust me, I’m reminded every time I sit on a toilet.” You shake your head, trying to refocus the conversation.

“This isn’t about my poor digestive system—why are you nervous?”

She sighs, “I don’t know why I’m so nervous, I’m used to doing interviews and stuff. But I haven’t been on Jimmy Fallon, and there’s an audience out there and I don’t want to mess up or accidentally spoil the movie.”

You place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, “You may be British, but you’re not Tom Holland. You won’t spoil anything.” You start. She quickly shoots you a look that screams, “you’re not helping”. You make a gesture physically telling her that you’re getting to the point.

“You’re going to be fine! I mean you did Jimmy Kimmel right? This shouldn’t be that different, it’s the same thing—just different studios, in different states, and different Jimmy’s.” You point out. She nods along as you continue, “Plus, I’m gonna be up there with you. You won’t be alone.”

With the help of your reassurance and witty little comments, Florence felt her anxiousness simmer down. They weren’t completely gone but the fact that you were gonna be up there together made her relax more. Being part of Marvel had its pros and cons. Sure, the movies are spectacular and the actors are outstanding. Though when it comes to doing promo for said movies, it can be quite stressful. It’s a known fact that Marvel and it’s executives can be quite strict when it comes to interviews with anyone involved in the making of their films—their strictness made sense, although for first time MCU members, it took some getting used to.

Florence smiles at you, “Thank you.”

You playfully nudge her shoulder with yours, “Don’t worry about it.” You say with a kind smile.

The wholesome moment was interrupted by one of the stagehands telling you and Florence that the two of you were on in 15 seconds.

“Our guests tonight are making their big MCU debut in the new Black Widow film, please welcome (Y/n) (L/n) and Florence Pugh!”

⚘

“So in the movie, there’s three of you guys—where’s the other one?” Jimmy asked, motioning his hand to the small space between you and Flo.

“She’s at home I believe.” Florence answered, glancing at you. “She’s busy doing stuff, you know—adult things.” She added.

You took the opportunity to make a joke and said, “Yet here we are promoting her movie.” You roll your eyes playfully. The crowd bursts out laughing, along with Jimmy, who smacked his desk.

“You know, we deserve a raise for this.” Flo considers, going along with your joke. She slightly snorts and nudges your arm with her elbow. “We could take Scarlett’s check and just split it in half for ourselves.”

“Problem solved.” You shrugged, high fiving her.

Another round of laughs fill the room as Jimmy says, “So you’re both taking Scarlett’s money?”

Jokingly, you nod in approval, “By the end of this interview? Definitely.”

Dropping the bit, you shake your head with a grin on your face. “I’m kidding! I’m only joking, I wouldn’t do that to her, even if I were forced to.”

Jimmy moves on as a picture of you, Florence, and Scarlett pops up on the screen. The picture had been posted on your Instagram and was taken while the three of you were filming in between takes. You were taking the selfie while Scarlett and Florence were poking their heads out from behind you making funny faces.

“I can’t imagine how exciting it is to be on a Marvel set, and to even work with one of the first ever heroes in the MCU—that must be insane!” Jimmy exclaims, motioning to another picture of the three of you.

“It’s unbelievable. To work alongside Scarlett and to follow this kind of path that she’s paved in the MCU is an honor. She really was like our older sister behind the scenes, because she was always guiding us and taking care of everyone. She’s the best.” Florence responded while you nodded in agreement.

“I watched the movie last night and one of the things I enjoyed the most was the dynamic the three of you had. You guys were like actual siblings.” Jimmy mentioned, motioning between you and Flo.

Florence giggled before squeezing you into a tight hug, “Yeah, she’s my big sister.” You smiled beamingly, patting her cheek before she let go.

“No, really! She’s like my actual younger sister.” You tell the audience, who “awed” at the hug you both shared. “We spent months on this movie and we spent every single day with each other. By the middle of production, we were basically roommates.”

“Roommates?” Jimmy questioned, leaning his elbows on his desk.

“Because I was always at her house.” Florence answered in a ‘duh’ tone. “I’ve actually grown an attachment to (Y/n), she’s like my comfort blanket. So I need to have her with me at all times. If she’s not with me, I just won’t leave the house.”

“Speaking of your attachment to (Y/n), there’s this video of you that you apparently sent her?” Jimmy gestured at you, “And you posted it on your Instagram and now the whole internet is obsessed with it.”

“Yup, that’s the one.” You confirmed.

“I know there’s probably some people who haven’t seen it, so here’s the video.” The video of Florence popped up on the screen and began to play.

(This fic was based on this TikTok😭)

Jimmy looked at you and Florence in amusement, “Can we get some context?”

Florence waved her hand at the screen and said, “As you can all see, I’m very persistent.”

“This wasn’t your first time sending her these kinds of videos?” Jimmy asked. You shook your head, a feign look of annoyance on your face.

“No, she does this all the time.”

“In my defense, I was unexpectedly flying out to New York for a project. I knew I was gonna be in the city for a few days, so I decided to call (Y/n) and make the most of my trip.” Flo defended herself, slightly pouting.

You leaned your head on her shoulder, “To be fair, it was also our first time seeing each other since we wrapped Black Widow, and we really missed each other.”

“(Y/n), did you have to move any plans?” Jimmy turns to you. Florence does the same.

“You know what, you never told me if you had plans or not.” She squints her eyes at you. Your arms crossed while your body slowly sunk into the couch.

You pretend to fix your lipstick, quickly muttering, “I might’ve moved some plans around.”

Florence’s mouth gapes in shock, her entire body freezing. She grips onto your shoulder, “Wait, you actually moved plans for me?”

“I might’ve rescheduled a lunch with someone, but that doesn’t really matter.” You replied, trying to move on from the topic. Jimmy pointed at you, a giant grin on his face, “You actually moved plans for Florence!”

Florence’s mouth was still wide in shock, “I can’t believe you actually moved plans for me—(Y/n)!” She whined.

“I missed seeing you, so of course I had to move them.” You bashfully explained, the corners of your lips turning upwards. Florence pulled you into a hug.

“Gosh, you really do love me!” She exclaimed.

“I really do!” You said, your arms wrapping around her as well.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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[0lympia]

“when the pillars fall” shoto todoroki

Inspired by @/maddsbuckley on TikTok. Please go check her out, she’s amazing!

                                                      x x x

summary: shoto todoroki is strong, and he’s got the good looks to boot. but sometimes, in the dead of night, he falls apart and without fail, you’re there. you’re always there for him. then, the pillars fell, and he’s there for you just as much as you are for him.

genre: angst with a kinda happy ending

warnings: manga spoilers, takes place after the war arc, some cursing, critical injuries, hospitalization, shoto and reader are weak for each other

word count: 2,217

Shoto Todoroki is supposed to be a hero prodigy. Shoto Todoroki is supposed to stand tall and strong, and keep his father's hero legacy alive.

And he's all of those things. Except for late at night when he comes creeping into your dorm with the key you gave him to crawl underneath the covers with you because of a nightmare he had.

"I'm sorry. I can go if you want." Is what he says the first time he comes to your dorm, but knocking this time because you had yet to give him his own key.

"You've gotta at least tell me what's wrong first." You say gently, and he crumbles. He mumbles that it was just a silly little nightmare as tears roll slowly down his face and you pull him into your dorm to cuddle.

"It's not stupid if it woke you up, Sho," You say as he pulls you into him like you're a teddy bear. And it’s always a little awkward cuddling with him after he’s had a nightmare, his body fluctuating sporadically between hot and cold, but you don’t mind because the longer he holds you the faster you fall back asleep.

You ask him if he wants to tell you about it, but Shoto never does, saying that he’s already forgotten, but the feeling stays longer than the visual. And you nod, and drift off faster than you should, but Shoto doesn’t mind - he never does - and he’s so completely lost in you. He’s so completely enamored by you, and he’s never been so happy to be lost.

He continues to knock for his next five visits after the first night, and you eventually get tired of him waking you up in the dead of the night so you give him his own key.

The seventh time he shows up at your door, he doesn’t use the key. No, instead, he stands outside your door and calls you. The dial tone rings in his ear and it doesn’t help soothe the tightness in his chest or the lump in his throat at all, and he wonders if it’s really so bad for him to use the key you’d given him. Eventually though, you answer - you always do - and he falls in love with you all over again.

“Sho?” You ask, voice scratchy and stiff, and he can hear you through the door, “What’s going on?”

It’s technically a stupid question to ask, you know he’d only ever call you so late at night if he’d had a nightmare, but he also doesn’t call you very often either. 

“Can I come in?” Shoto asks, and you make a groggy noise of confusion.

“What d’ya mean, Sho?” 

“Can I come in?” He repeats, and then softly knocks twice on your door.

You hang up then, and Shoto watches your door swing open with tears pricking at his eyes. And when you drag him into bed with you the world feels like it could never be wide enough.

                                                         x x x

Then, your world fell apart. 

The pillars that held up Japan’s hero society crumbled in a measly seven hours. 

With too many prison breaks, fatalities, and injuries to count, Shoto could care less. Because you were gone. He’d been with you early that morning, before everything fell apart.

He’d been in bed with you, cuddled up close and basking in your presence, the two of you had changed into your hero costumes together. He’d been with you for hundreds of hours too little that morning, and he wants to know where you are. 

He asks his older brother Natsuo where you are by showing him the little sticky note that he’d written the question on and shown to every nurse, doctor, teacher, and friend that came in to see him. His throat had been burned to hell, and he wished more than anything to get up and ask every damned person in the hospital where you were.

He’s supposed to be talking about Touya - he’s not Touya anymore, he has to remind to himself, that man is Dabi, not Touya - and all he can think about is you. 

Shoto has to remind himself that he can’t cry. Because right now, the people around him need him to be strong, and that includes you, where ever you are. He hopes you can feel him wavering, desperately wishes for you to show up.

It’s on his sixth night in the hospital that somebody finally tells him where you are. It’s Bakugo, surprisingly enough.

“Hey, IcyHot,” Bakugo greets, and Shoto uses text-to-speech to ask him if he should even be walking. The blonde is covered in just as many bandages as Shoto, and when Aizawa had come by on his third day in the hospital, Shoto had been told all about everybody’s condition except yours.

“Yeah, i’m fine,” Bakugo says, easing himself into hard plastic chair next to Shoto’s hospital bed, “Y/N’s not though.”

Shoto croaks out a pathetic noise, but Bakugo doesn’t need prompting.

“All the other damn extras said not to say anything to you,” Bakugo continues, and for the first time ever, the cocky blonde is visibly nervous, worried, even, “Y/N’s in the ICU. They haven’t stabilized since they got in. Nobody’s told me what happened to them, but apparently Dunce Face was one of the last people to see her before she was brought here. He... He thought that Y/N was already dead when he last saw them. They’re in a medically induced coma, according to Mr.Aizawa.”

Shoto sits there, in silence except for the quiet humming of the AC unit, for thirty minutes. Bakugo sits with him, just as quiet. 

“Where are they now?” Shoto’s phone asks, the words choppy and abrupt, and Bakugo looks pained when he tells him your room number. Neither of them do anything for a while after that, and Bakugo sits in the hard plastic chair that’d begun to make his butt sore until Shoto falls asleep with a million things on the tip of his tongue.

Shoto is released from the hospital four days later, extensive healing and pain meds made sure of that, and nobody had been allowed to see you yet. He’d asked around, and eventually he learned that you’d undergone six different procedures since you’d arrived.

Tonight would be your seventh.

                                                          x x x

It’s hot. Very hot.

The flames are blue, and a few of them lick at you, but they don’t burn. There’s a battle cry from both sides, and you watch as villains pour from the Gunga Mountain Villa. It takes five minutes, and war has broken out all around you.

You’re fighting too, better suited for close combat, and you’re watching your classmates, your friends being battered around, fighting in a war that they shouldn’t be fighting.

You’re the first to make inside the building, and you’re vaguely aware that you’re bleeding. Fatgum tells you to retreat, telling you that you look on the verge of death. You tell him you’re fine.

You’re not fine. The building is rumbling, and the ceiling’s begun to cave in, it’s hard to breathe, and you can’t see through the blood that’s caked over your left eye.

The pillars fall in seven seconds, and you fall too. 

You call for him, for Shoto, in the last three seconds of your consciousness, you call for him.

It’s dark.

                                                        x x x 

When you wake up, really wake up and open your eyes to look right into the harsh white fluorescent lights of your hospital room, nobody’s there with you. There’s a vase of dying roses on the windowsill, and you can already tell from the crisp handwriting on the brown tag that Shoto had been the one to leave them. And it’s cold, but you prefer that to the blazing heat you’d felt when you’d fallen asleep.

Where is Sho anyway?

Your heart monitor steadily beeps away, and when a nurse comes in to check your vitals she’s surprised to see you’re awake. And even more surprised when the first thing you ask for is Shoto.

“Sho,” You say, and your voice is dry and raw and barely a whisper, “Where’s Sho?”

The nurse stares at you wide-eyes for a moment, before she gets you a little dixie cup of water.

“Who’s Sho?” She asks, and you struggle to swallow the little cup of water she’d given you.

“Shoto Todoroki,” You say, “Is he here?”

The nurse purses her lips, and looks at you sadly, and you wonder what she’s thinking about before she tells you that she’ll be right back with the doctor. She leaves three more dixie cups of water on your foldaway table before leaving.

You sit there for almost an hour before the door opens again, and it’s a horrible hour because every time you close your eyes all you can see is the bloody battle that should have killed you.

The doctor comes in first, and right behind him is the person you’d been thinking about since you’d woken up. You’d been with him all that morning before the war, and all that night. And you were with him now.

The doctor tells you what day it is, and you start crying when he tells you it’s been almost a month since you’d first been admitted to the hospital. 

“Fuck,” You whimper, voice crackling and breaking as you reach out for Shoto, and he’s there - he always is - and his hand feels so good in yours - it always does - and you start crying even harder when you see the tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Sho. You look so tired.”

“I love you,” And he says it like there will never be another chance to say it, and once the first ‘I love you’ leaves his mouth fifty more follow. And the doctor looks you over as best he can, before telling you that you’re cleared for visitors and that you’d be able to leave within the week.

And as Shoto begins to cry he has to remind himself that he is supposed to be a hero prodigy. That he’s supposed to stand tall and strong, and keep his father's hero legacy alive. But you hold onto his fingers so tightly, and for once, you’re asking if you can come over because you’ve just had a nightmare. It’s a shared nightmare, Shoto tells you, shared by millions.

Two days later you’re allowed to go back home, back to the dorms, and Shoto has to help you get dressed because you can barely breathe standing up let alone walk without your legs collapsing. Shoto kisses your tears away when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You’re covered in scars, and there are still stitches in places where the wounds were slower to heal. 

Your whole world fell apart in seven hours that day, and it continued to fall apart after that. Shoto’s there for you the whole way back to UA, and he tells you that your school, your second home, had become a home to thousands of others too. Shoto had given his dorm away and he’d been staying at his family home while you’d been in the hospital.

But your dorm is still there. And nothing’s changed at all.

“I’ve also been staying here too,” Shoto tells you when he helps you into bed, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all, Sho,” You tell him - you never do mind - and he crawls into bed next to you, minding your right knee with it’s poky little stitches and the new metal patella that replaced the kneecap you’d shattered during the war.

Japan fell apart in four days, Shoto tells you, and you can’t find it in you to care, because the world is too big and too wide but Shoto makes it feel smaller.

It was dark, when the pillars fell. And the two of you are blind, lost in it, and you’d never been so afraid of being lost. 

“I don’t think I can go back to hero work,” You tell him early the next morning, as he gets dressed to go back to his family home, “Not for a long time.”

“That’s okay, my love,” He replies, he won’t tell you, but he’s not sure he wants you to go back, “Do you want to come home with me?”

He doesn’t need to ask, because he would have taken you with him anyway.

“Yeah,” You tell him, and you struggle to push yourself up into a sitting position, “Just... Will you promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Promise me you won’t die.”

It’s stupid thing to ask for, you know it is. Because everybody dies eventually, but you don’t know what you’d do if you lost him. The two of you are lost, but at least you’re together. 

Shoto doesn’t need to question it, because he’d thought you were dead for almost a whole week. And he doesn’t ever want to be without you, even though he knows he’ll have to.

“I promise you, Y/N, I won’t ever leave you, and I won’t die.”

It’s dark, Shoto thinks, as he helps you into the back of his father’s car, But it’s much less dark with you.

[plsimsuchasimp]

gone (cheating ft. kenma)

an anon asked me to write another version of this post, so here it is. i’m sorry about this, it’s definitely not my best work.

request: “Can you do another cheating fic but with kenma since he is my favorite character”

genre: angst

ft: kenma kozume x gn reader, a little bit of kuroo tetsuro

wc: 1.8k

warnings: fainting, angst, implied cheating

Flopping down on your bed, you picked up your phone and shot off a quick text message to your boyfriend, Kenma.

“hey babe, can we call? it’s been a really long week and I haven’t seen you in forever,” you wrote, pressing the send button with only a moment’s hesitation. 

Sighing, you scrolled upwards a bit, reading through the message history. Recently, his texts had been getting shorter and more abrupt, often making excuses when you asked to see him or talk to him.

1 new message. Distracted, you scrolled down to see Kenma’s text. 

“sorry can’t i was just about to sleep”

Frowning, you glanced at the top of the screen. 10:53 pm. He never went to bed this early, let alone slept. Your throat constricted, but you tried to brush it off, the thoughts whispering at the back of your head like malicious pixies, insecurities and harsh words. You stared at the simple string of words, wondering what to say. Are you okay? you’ve seemed off recently. No, you were probably just overthinking it.

“okay, have a good night! ily” Read 10:57 pm. No response.

Putting the phone down, you tried to push it to the back of your thoughts, but it nagged at you. Turning on your PC, you logged onto discord and noticed Kenma’s status. He was playing a multiplayer game, in a VC with one other person. Right-clicking, you ignored the feeling of distrust and clicked on the other player’s profile. 

You knew her- she was a friend of Kenma’s from school. Kenma had promised you they were just friends, that you had nothing to worry about, but the insecurities crept in again as you realized he’d been spending a lot more time with her instead of you. Biting your lip, you looked back at your phone, the accusing text glaring at you. It seemed innocuous, seemed like you were overreacting. Kenma didn’t really get why you were insecure- he always told you he only had eyes for you, but lately, it didn’t really feel like it.

The last time you two had hung out, he’d laughed at something on his phone, then turned away when you asked to see what it was, muttering something vague about a funny tiktok. You didn’t think much of it at the time, but with thoughts crowding your head, you wondered if it really had been just a video. Kozume had always been distant- you understood that when you started dating him, but was it too much to ask for a scrap of his attention? 

You were torn. On one hand, you wanted to trust Kenma, believe that everything he told you was true and he still loved you like he used to. On the other, your gut was telling you there was something off. Praying that he wasn’t hiding anything, you entered a different browser and logged into his Discord account. You’d given each other the passwords to your socials a while ago, your way of showing that you had nothing to hide.

Incorrect login information. The words appeared in red on the screen, the password field outlined in red. You tried again, ensuring that there were no typos, and it still registered as wrong. Your stomach sank, staring at the message on the screen. He changed his password and didn’t tell you. At this point, you knew something was wrong, but you didn’t want to ask him in fear of seeming insecure or clingy, both traits Kenma disliked. Before you could lose yourself further in the swirling tornado of your thoughts, your phone dinged with a new message. It was from Kuroo.

“hey y/n, are you up? we need to talk.”

Brow furrowing, you responded with “yeah, is everything okay?” He read the text, and then the call icon rang at the top of the screen, red and green buttons buzzing gently. You accepted the call, answering with “Hi Kuroo.”

“Hey y/n,” he said, his voice quieter than normal. 

“Are you okay?” He sounded off, sad somehow.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. There’s something I need to tell you, though.” You paused for a second, hoping it wasn’t what you thought it was, before he continued. “Kenma- Kenma cheated on you.”

“W-what?” Time seemed to stop. you couldn’t, didn’t want to believe your ears. Your breath caught in your throat, shock freezing your body in place.

“Shit, y/n, I’m so sorry. I just found out.” Kuroo was still talking, but you weren’t hearing him. It seemed impossible, even though you’d seen it coming. “Y/n? Are you okay?” 

Startled, you choked out, “Yeah, I’m okay, just a little shocked.” a little was an understatement. “H-how did you find out?”

“Well,” he sighed, “I saw him kiss her behind the cafe yesterday. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was still figuring out what to do.” Guilt laced his words, and you got the feeling there was still something he hadn’t said.

“What else?” From his slight intake of breath, you could tell you’d caught him off guard. He was silent for a moment.

“He’s been texting her on Discord for the past month or so. I think you know her, (f/n)?” You felt your heart crash into your stomach, and your worst fears were confirmed. Switching back onto your computer, you saw that Kenma was still playing the game with the girl, and your stomach clenched. 

“Yeah, I know her.” He noticed that your voice was quiet, subdued, and he swallowed.

“Y/n, I’m- I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.” He was silent then, waiting for you to speak.

“No, no, it’s fine,” You said, your voice oddly calm. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course. Hey, are you going to be okay?” He asked, unsure what was really happening inside your head.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” Before he had a chance to say anything else, you hung up, mind spinning.

Oddly enough, you didn’t feel anything. You knew in the back of your head that this was your way of coping, that the hurt and anger and sadness would come later, but for now you didn’t care. Methodically, you went to all of your socials and blocked Kenma, hesitating only slightly to block his number in your phone.

You shut off your computer and turned your phone to silent, sitting in silence on your bed. Slowly, your eyes filled with tears that spilled down your cheeks, expressionless besides the gleaming tear streaks staining your face. Your shoulders shook, and everything seemed to crash down at once. 

Your body couldn’t keep up, the sobs overtaking you until you were lightheaded. The room was spinning and the shining moonlight was glinting through the blinds at odd angles, seeming to distort your vision. You couldn’t breathe, and then everything faded to black.

You woke up a few seconds later with your head on the pillow, dazed and hearing the blood pound through your head. You groaned and lay there for a couple of minutes, letting your breathing slow. 

You got up and brushed your teeth, staring at your puffy eyes in the mirror. It hurt, to know the man you loved didn’t feel the same anymore. What did you do wrong? Were you too clingy, not good enough, not there for him enough? Why would he cheat on you? 

Guilt vibrated around you, and it brought back the memories of every other time. It must have been your fault- it always was. 

Sleep took you uneasily that night, creeping in around your obsessive, painful thoughts and lulling you to distraction.

The next morning at school, you wiped the pain from your face and moved through the day in a haze. You saw Kenma in the hallway, leaning against the lockers on his phone, and avoided eye contact. When you saw her, (f/n), anger and hurt swelled up in your stomach, and you tried to swallow it and avoid lashing out. 

Later, Kenma stared at his phone as an error message popped up when he tried to text you. We’re sorry, the number you’re trying to reach is unavailable. A pit formed in his stomach, and he went to his other socials, reaching the same conclusions in other places. 

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, amber eyes scanning the hallway. You were already gone, though, and he moved through the swarm of people, eyes focused on the exit. Where would you have gone? 

When he showed up at your house that afternoon, you were surprised. He doesn’t waste time, showing you his phone and bluntly asking “Why did you block me?” Your eyes widened to see him slouching there, clearly uncomfortable with going out of his way to do this. “Are you angry at me?”

“Kozume, I don’t really want to talk to you right now.” His face twisted at your use of his last name.

“Why not?” 

At this point, you sighed, tired of everything. “You cheated on me. That’s why.” Your voice cracks in the last sentence, and the world stops.

His stomach drops as you turn away, the weight of the world on your shoulders. “N-no. Y/n. Please don’t go!” 

Kenma’s not good with words, and you understand that. Sometimes, though, it feels like he’s not trying. As he shook his head frantically, chin-length hair swaying around his beautiful face, you could tell he wanted to say something, but he can’t.

“What is there to say, Kozume?” Your eyes were brimming with tears, your heart squeezing at the sight of him.

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean to.” Even he knows how weak this sounds, how pathetic of him, and when he looks back up at you, his eyes are shiny. “I love you.”

His words ring hollow, and you scoff. “Where was that love when you kissed her behind the cafe? Where was it when you were constantly texting her on discord? Where was it when I needed you and you weren’t there?” You shake your head, heartbreak written all over your features. It’s then that he remembers the declined calls, the unanswered texts, the neglect he subjected you to as he pushed you away.

“I hope you’re happy with her, because we’re done.”

He didn’t even have a good reason this time. All he knew was that he wanted you to stay, but he knew he didn’t deserve a second chance. Against his will, a tear slid down his cheek and dropped to the floor, making him sniffle. 

There was nothing you wanted more than to pull him into your arms, cry into his shoulder, but you couldn’t. It hurt too much. You stepped back and slammed the door on him for the final time.

Leaning your head against the door, all of your emotions spilled out. You were silently crying, the ache in your chest almost too much to bear. You thought you heard your name outside the door, whispered just loud enough for you to hear, but you just sank down to the floor and let the tears fall.

On the other side of the door, Kenma’s phone buzzed. It was a text from her, and the disgust and anger that filled his stomach at the sight was enough for him to know he’d never forgive himself for hurting you like this.

“I love you.”

a/n: srry for the anticlimatic ending i was just feeling super bad and not in the mood to write but i wanted to get this out here, hope you like it.

[regrettablewritings]

Look, if it helps y’all feel any better, try imagining Actor AU.

Personally, my idea of Actor AU includes:

Hunter’s actor is actually goofy and leans in hard to the dad vibes. His hair is, in fact, quite real, much to the dismay of his cast mates. Omega may have recorded BTS snaps of everyone and his included attempting to play dad rock on a guitar he keeps in his trailer.

Wrecker’s actor is actually the Smart Guy, having a degree in something complex like biochemical engineering or something. He’s also quieter and a lot more gentle than the character he plays, preferring to spend his time off-camera reading.

Echo’s actor likes to crack jokes a lot, specifically about how he’s the guy who always has to be in the makeup chair “at the crack of dawn’s ass”. Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair get an earful of playful fussing if he hears them whine about sitting still for their tattoo or scar makeup. Actually has a prosthesis, though his is for one of his legs.

Tech’s actually got a degree in English (“Why else would I be acting?”) and while he’s also on the spectrum, he’s a bit less rigid than the character he plays. He sometimes wishes his character was more forward about things but ultimately respects the sass. His Kiwi accent is a bit stronger outside of the role.

Crosshair’s actor . . . is ironically nearsighted. Initially, the reason he always seemed to be glaring was because he was trying to get used to the contacts he was given for the first shoot the Batch ever appeared in and it just suited him. Surprisingly chill guy otherwise, very aware of how intimidating he can come off as by looks alone.

Omega is the most like her on-screen character. Just a really cheery, outgoing girl! She brings her homework to do on set sometimes, and asks Wrecker for help since he’s the one who’s best at math and science.

Everyone is always joking about the hair situation: Hunter’s hair is real, they keep having to shave Echo’s hair, Wrecker prefers to be bald, Tech’s hair is actually curly and he hates how it constantly must be jacked up for the sake of his character (think Cillian Murphy’s feelings a la Peaky Blinders), and Crosshair made jokes about how he was so used to dyeing it that he no longer remembers what his hair color actually is. Then when they made him bald (even if by use of a bald cap), Echo and Wrecker chanted “One of us! One of us!” Omega’s hair is naturally blonde and cute so the costumers left it that way.

Once, Omega snapped a pic of Echo in the middle of his makeup regimen all powdered up. Fans saw and quickly began to compare him to a baby covered in powder. Echo liked the image and comparison so much that he printed it out and taped it to his mirror. Now, a common meme that he happily plays around with is “Echo is Baby.” Sometimes, he’ll even deepen his voice and go, “I  a m  B a b y” just to get a laugh out of someone.

Interviewer: So one of the things that makes the Batch stand out is how they’re generally unafraid of experimenting with their appearances, tattoo-wise in some cases. Are there any tattoos you’d perhaps like to get? Anything like the characters you play? Hunter: Oh, not at all! A face tattoo?! That big!? I’d pass right out right in the chair! Crosshair: Same. I think Crosshair’s tattoo is more about intimidation, and frankly I think I’m scary enough. That, and I don’t know what the guy was on to be able to withstand a tattoo to the face, but I don’t have any of that on me so I doubt that’s ever gonna happen. Hunter: Yeah, the closest thing I think I could do is maybe something on my arm. Maybe my child’s hand print or something of that nature. Crosshair: Ooh, a good old dad classic. Hunter: Yeah! Wrecker: I actually haven’t thought about getting a tattoo since, like, my university years. But hey, who knows? I’ve been told I have plenty of real estate for it! Echo, sheepishly laughing: I like the idea of tattoos, but needles freak me out. Yeah, I know it’s a different type of needle but like?? I don’t like pain!! I think the best I could do is just keep applying one of those temporary tattoos to the same place over and over to create the illusion of having actual ink on me. Maybe mess around with people and skip a day or two. Or better yet: Change out the design! One day there’s a dolphin on my neck, the next day it’s a tiger! Omega: Mum says no tattoos until I turn 18. But I’d like to get a Batcher helmet as commemoration! Tech: I actually have a tattoo! I mean, it’s nothing like what Tech would probably have. I feel like if he ever got any ink, it’d probably be something geeky like his favorite equation, or something symbolic of the galaxy bottled up into a formula of some kind. I imagine that if he wanted something artsier, he’d probably outsource to someone with more artistic skills. Tech: Anyway, my tattoo is of a turtle! Everyone: *is either looking at him or snickering* Crosshair: . . .  A turtle. Tech: What’ve you got against turtles?

Omega convinces the guys to participate in some TikToks and such “for media purposes”. This ends in Wrecker, in character, saying, “Hunter: Omega’s trying to sneak around. But I’m dummy thicc, and the clap of my butt and meaty fists keep alerting the guards!”

Yes: Everyone wishes they could have a lightsaber. Yes: Everyone would most definitely make the lightsaber noises if they had one. And yes: Everyone makes do with their blasters, but they do revert into children who go “pew pew!” every time they pull the triggers. Even Crosshair’s actor, who more so goes “pow” or “bang”.

Interviewer: How are you like the characters you play, if at all? Hunter: I’m a cool dad with awesome hair. Omega: We’re both very curious! Wrecker: I don’t think we -- Oh, you know what? We both love Lula! Echo: You mean aside from a prosthesis? Uuummm . . . Ppprobably . . . We both love a godawful pun! Tech: I think we both like to collect knowledge for the sake of it. And also, we drive like crazy. Crosshair: We can both be a bit catty

Tech’s actor is constantly fumbling his lines simply because of all the technobabble he has to say.

I do not know why but the image of Crosshair’s actor being a surprisingly good juggler haunts the cinema of my mind’s eye.

And also . . . They are most definitely Maori or of Maori descent, so jot that tf down.

Don’t know how it’ll help, but Actor AUs are simply The Best™️ so that in and of itself has my stamp of approval for cheering up!

[savnofilter]

Please bring attention to this because I haven’t seen it enough or at all until I searched for specific tags. If you enjoy anime, kpop, asian culture, cuisine, use products from countries that are in Asia (and you more than likely do) you need to listen and speak about this. I've seen this around a few times on TikTok and I’ve spent way too long staying silent on this. There has been a rise in racial attacks against the Asian American community recently, but this is not the first time and it will not stop any time soon.

Since March 2019, asians have been under attack because of the political divide that COVID-19 had stirred. America has had a very long history of denying, abusing and discriminating against minorities, and the Asian community is no exclusion from this treatment. Many innocent people from even as young as children have been subjected to bullying, street attacks and murder simply because of the portrayal that the media have given the AAPI (Asian American and Pacific Islander) community. More recently, this has recently been affecting the ederly people in said communities. People are being attacked no matter the victims ethnicity or nationality.

This is a reminder since a lot of people are putting the blame on black people, since the upscale of violence recently started from those individuals, we do not support any of these harmful actions. This is not a war of Black vs. Asian, it is a much bigger issue of bigotry and xenophobia than this. There have been many more acts against Asians from other races as well. The black community will stand for any minority group there is today as we feel the same pain you do. No black person would encourage this behavior of unprovoked attacks against Asians. 

Another thing to note is do not click bait serious issues like this. Just saw this tiktok properly explaining why by @/notsebina. Although there is good intent to have people listen, this could be really harmful too. There's not much to worry about on the Tumblr platform doing this, but it is important to highlight if you want to spread awareness properly.

Now, what can you do? Spread awareness, share, and educate. Do boost Asian voices, and help them have a platform to share. Do not spread videos/images of people being harmed as it can be triggering to people from the community. Here are some sources, organizations, petitions and donations to help the AAPI community today.

How to report a crime. | How to help someone who is being attacked. | How to generally fight against harassment.

SOURCES:

Learn more about the attacks from (not limited to) Nawpawf, 18Mr, AsianResource, and Stupski. Learn more and read up on these articles by Airbnb, RollingStone and the global list of attacks against Asians since 2019 on Wikipedia.

ORGANIZATIONS:

The National Council of Asian Pacific Americans [link]

Advancing Justice (Asian Law Caucus) [link]

Act to Change [link]

#HATEISAVIRUS [link]

PETITIONS: 

Change.org; 1, 2.

DONATIONS: 

Gofundme; 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7.

DON’T LET THE LIMITED INFORMATION ON THIS POST BE ENOUGH! PLEASE SHARE MORE WAYS TO SUPPORT THE ASIAN COMMUNITY.

[trueshellz]

Seeing your abusive ex: Bokuto Scenario

Based on something that happened to me today and ended with me having to call my auntie to calm me down while I cried hysterically in my car. This is based in my own symptoms but is not an extensive or absolute list. This cute boi is my comfort character from Haikyuu. If anyone ever needs to talk about stuff like this, I will happily listen. You are loved. You are amazing!

Warning: possible abuse triggers, some angst, anxiety, panic attacks, PTSD type symptoms, harassment, past abuse hinted.

You were sure the car behind you was one you had seen before, as it popped up four times on your walk home you started feeling anxious. The first time has been when you left work, it was parked across the road with lights turned off as you left the building. The second and third time were when you went and left the supermarket to get dinner ingredients that you had forgotten yesterday. This time however, you were sure it was following you as you walked home. And if you were right it belonged to your abusive ex-boyfriend, one that you hadn’t seen in over two years since you threw him out after you gathered the strength to do so.

You knew not to walk too fast or too slow, you were holding a deodorant can in your pocket and had your safety alarm in your other hand with your keys. Your main issue was getting home safe. If you went home, he would follow you and know where you live. If you went to a friend’s house, she could be in danger and you didn’t want anyone to experience what you had. At the same time, it was getting a little dark and being out after sunset was just as bad. You could feel the memories of the abuse flash through your mind like a film reel, the familiar feeling of terror as you re-lived what happened. Your breath was catching in your throat as you walked, not from exertion but from sheer panic. You tried the breathing techniques your therapist had given you, tried thinking about you lovely boyfriend and the happy memories you had made together, but nothing stopped the darkness clouding your brain.

On impulse, you dialled Koutaro’s number, knowing he was at practice there was a small chance he would pick up and if he didn’t, your best friend was next. Glancing behind you again, you stayed on busy main roads as you walked, willed and prayed to God that he picked up his phone. Weaving through people hoping that he would lose sight of you and give up, at least long enough for you to get home safely.

“Hey gorgeous, I was just going to message you. I-“

“Kou... Kou... I...l...”

Your voice broke off in sobs as you spoke, the world around you seeming too small and the noises too loud as you walked. You had a small idea where you were, relying on muscle memory walking around the city but right now, all you cared about was the car that kept coming in and out your vision.

“Baby, whats’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I...”

Bokuto could hear your voice catch as you spoke, the sound hitting him right in the chest and making his heart hurt, he hated being on the other side of the city as he practiced for his upcoming match. It wasn’t often that he heard you like this, the nightmares had decreased and apart from the one time you opened up about a past relationship, you had never been this fearful.

“Baby, listen. It’s me, its Kou. Focus on my voice ok? Forget everything else. I love you. Tell me where you are.”

“I don’t know, Kou.” A pause as he heard you take a deep breath. “I’m scared.”

“I know, baby. Tell me what you see ok? You know this city way better than I do. Remember when I got lost on the way to your house? How late was I to our first date? I’m so lucky you agreed to a second one. You know this city like the back of your hand.”

You focused on the sound of his voice, the usual soothing melody as he spoke to you. The same voice that lulled you to sleep when you had a bad dream and screamed with happiness when you played games together. The one that groaned in your ear when he was too tired to moved or whispered how good it felt being inside you. Your bubbly, cute baby owl boyfriend. Remembering the instance he spoke about, he had gotten so lost that he was an hour late for your first date. You, thinking you had been stood up, had changed out your outfit and into a onesie. By the time he arrived, he had sweat through his shirt and looked like he’d walked about 50 miles. Being hesitant about the second date, he showed up with flowers an hour early and patiently waited outside while you got ready. His logic being the he could make the time up... somehow.

Telling him what you could see and reading out the name of the roads, you could hear his team in the background. Hinata being over-excited as usual, you could imagine him jumping up and down annoying everyone while Kageyama beat him up. While the other members were mumbling other background, Atsumu’s distinct accent was clear compared to everyone else. They were always so lively when you visited, jumping to talk to you or show you new moves, always thankful for the food and snacks you bought. Even if it made your boyfriend super jealous.

“Well done, baby. You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you. Listen, you’re near Akaashi’s house ok? Remember him? He’s a year younger than me? We played in high school together. You met at our school reunion a while back. He’s a comic designer now.”

Casting your mind back, you nodded to yourself when you remembered the calm guy with dark hair that your boyfriend got along with so well despite being complete opposing personalities. The number of times you had heard ‘Akaashi’ shouted at various points, you had taken to copying Bokuto that night, much to Akaashi’s chagrin and your boyfriend’s delight.

“He’s expecting you ok? He’s a good friend of mine baby, I trust him with my life. He’ll keep you safe until I get there.”

Giving you his address, you started walking towards his apartment, it was near a main road and looking around you couldn’t see the vehicle anywhere. The panic from earlier still humming through your veins as you walked towards your destination.

“Kou, but-“

“Baby, don’t start saying anything. I know you’re thinking that you’re disrupting practice or ruining my game. That it’s a headache coming all the way over there when you haven’t even told me what’s wrong.”

His tone was calm and collected, but his words rang straight through your brain triggering your panic even further and the tears that had dried now coming back full force.

“Kou. I’m sorry.”

“Woah, hey. Don’t ever apologise. Ok? I never wanna hear you apologise for stuff like this. I’m leaving now. Go to Akaashi’s house and I’ll be there in as soon as I can, ok?”

“Ok, Kou. Thank you.”

“Welcome, baby. Love you.”

Waiting around for your boyfriend was making you edgy, you couldn’t sit still. What if your ex had seen Bokuto? What if he’d seen you come here? But you hadn’t seen him, a car was easy to spot right? What if he was tracking you? You had changed your number though? Akaashi had popped in twice to check on you, once to bring you a blanket and hot tea and the second time to ask if you wanted food. The tea was swirling in your stomach, the crying had made you fell nauseous and you were sure that your stomach would revolt against any food. Hearing voices from the hallway, your body tensed expecting the worst.

He found you.

He was going to hurt you again.

Instead, familiar grey-black hair popped up from behind the door and while your heart was still in your throat, the sight of him made the thread of fear loosen a little. Dropping his bag, Bokuto walked over to you before kneeling in front of you and holding your face in his hands as he leaned his forehead against yours. Thumbs wiping away any remnants of tears, he kissed you nose, cheeks and forehead before pulling you into his arms. The feel of his arms around you, the scent of his aftershave and faint smell of sweat from his sports wear eased the tension in your body a little but could do nothing against the sobs that broke free again.

“Shh, it’s ok baby. I got you. I’ll always have you. You’re safe now.”

“Kou... I saw him. He... he was behind me.”

Bokuto knew instantly who you meant, he wished he could personally do something about him but between his career and your fear, the idea of beating your ex to a pulp didn’t seem plausible. While he wasn’t super close with Daichi, he knew Kuroo was and was going to reach out and do something about it. Holding you at arms length, he brushed away your tears and kissed your forehead again, linking your wrists together so your couple bracelets latched on to each other. They were something you had seen on TikTok, two bracelets with magnets that would link when they were close. You thought he would reject the idea at first, but Bokuto thought they were the best way to show everyone you were his girl. Plus it gave him a great excuse to your hold hand when you went everywhere.

“See, baby? Look how these magnets find each other and attract one another. Just like you and me. Nothing could keep me away from you. I’ll always find you. Okay?”

You nodded, glancing down at the bracelets and then up at your boyfriend. His amber eyes full of worry but love and the way he held you like you were something so precious.

“Plus, if he tries anything I’ll beat him up, have you seen these muscles baby?”

You snorted as Bokuto flexed his arm, muscles straining against the sleeve of his tee and couldn’t help but fall into his chest giggling as he squished you. The tears from earlier forgotten as you embraced the loving nature of your gorgeous boyfriend.

[storiesofthesahabah]

Is it a yes or no? You don’t have to tell me or anyone else your answer, but I ask you to use your answer to reflect accordingly from the story I am about to share with you. _____

Whenever we read or listen to the Qur’an, do we reflect from what we just read or listened to? Don’t deny - be honest - sometimes we do it for the sake that our parents, spouse or even teacher would stop nagging us about it.  Indeed, this generation is strange and have developed different trends where they use social media to somehow “remind” others about Islam, ibadah and the likes. We see a lot of sisters, showing their faces on some mere 1-3 min videos with an ayah or hadith being shared on captions without minding the fact that they are fueling the preying eyes of nonMahrams. Same goes to brothers. It is good to remind others as we are advised and told to do so in the Qur’an, but we also have to be responsible enough on how we should address or do this.  Why am I raising this issue - because the story I am about to share with you speaks volumes regarding haya and your connection to your Lord and the Qur’an. _____ This incident happened during the time of the Prophet ﷺ‎ . Ibn Abi Hatim Radiyallahu Anhu narrates that the Prophet ﷺ‎ used to go out late night to see how his companions prayed and supplicated and would weep in the darkness, One night, when the Prophet ﷺ was out and doing his regular checking, he‎ passed by a house where he heard an old woman’s voice from behind a door - the old woman was crying and kept repeating a single verse from the Qur’an: “Has there reached you the report of the Overwhelming [event]?” [88:1] The old woman cried terribly while repeating this particular verse again and again. When this happened, the Prophet ﷺ placed his blessed head against the door and began to cry while saying:

“Yes, it did reach me. Yes, it did reach me.” _____ It is a very short story but take a moment to make this scene sink in, imagine our beloved Prophet ﷺ‎ crying out while hearing the old woman’s voice as she kept repeating this particular verse - and how much impact it has given to both the Prophet ﷺ and the old woman. Imagine the closeness of the old woman to the Qur’an - and how her heart is moved as she recites this verse as a warning and reminder from her Lord. Many of us, may have read the story above and would say “oh okay, that’s it?” without being affected and realizing that such verse is very heavy and scary in a sense that it warns us that sooner or later - we will have to face the inevitable time of death and that our meeting with Allah has been truly prescribed and is coming. Yet, we live this life as if we will never leave it - that it will never perish. My dear brothers and sisters in Islam, you may be wondering what is the connection of me raising the issue of sisters and brothers using social media particularly tiktok where they use it to “Remind” others about Islam - it is simple - remind yourself first.  The old woman in this story, subhan’Allah we don’t know how much Allah has honored her that her story reached our generation without her name being known yet her character is being told. She might have not been known here but indeed, in the heavens she is known. subhan’Allah. Such are the qualities of the sahabiyat (female companions). Most of them are unknown yet their character especially when it comes to haya puts any sister in their rightful places.  This old woman - didn’t even have to show her face nor did she even intend to be known for her ibadah - as she was doing this in the middle of the night when everyone else was sound asleep. Indeed, our actions and character is the best form of dawah - no matter how much effort you put it to make yourself look good in your videos or so - the truth of the matter is the sincerity of your actions. My sisters in Islam, if you want to remind others about their ibadah or to let them know about Islam - message the sister, converse with the sister - you do not need to flaunt your face and speak infront of videos where millions or even billions of nonMahrams can screenshot and save it in their phones.  This particular sahabiyah, Allah concealed even her name due to the high status He has given her. If you truly knew the honor of being concealed through modesty, you would want to be covered from head to foot.  Did you know that the Sahabah, when they used to talk about their families or they are asked about their spouses - they never said even the names of their wives rather they will say Umm so and so or that they will say my family - this is how the gheerah of the saharan were, this is how they honor the women of Islam. - this way of them is also mentioned in the Qur’an if you would just realize. ______ Let us focus with our connection with our Lord, our ibadah, our Qur’an and you will see how Allah will make use of you to remind others about Him and Islam.  If you want to be in the dawah field - there is nothing wrong in that but make sure you are well connected with your ibadah yourself so you can practice what you preach.  There are many ways to do dawah, putting up a video of yourself is not the “only” way. This ayah doesn’t only remind us that the inevitable will happen but also it reminds us that your life has an ending in this world - it is warning you so make sure your deeds are in line with goodness and sincerity. There is so much that this short incident can teach us, I may have pointed out a few but feel free to reflect more about it.  If ever such warning haven’t reached you then I hope by reading this tory, a life warning has reached you. ______ May Allah make us amongst such people who are well connected with Him through learning the Qur’an and establishing our salah and making the most of the days we are living in this world to do great deeds that would benefit us in the life hereafter. Amin Umm Umar Khaled _____ P.S. If you have been following my blog, you will know that I have used this story in one of my blog entries but in a different light, I felt the need to address some issue through this particular story, hence - it is here. _____ Story was taken from: • Tafsir Notes from Surah Al Ghasiyah 1436 AH

[storiesforallfandoms]

he’ll never see this ~ noen eubanks

word count: 1994

request?: yes!

“Hi can you do one imagine of Noen Eubanks, like, the reader is a tik toker or influencer something like that and they have a crush on each other,and they Fans are Shipping them.

Thanksss💖🖤💖🖤💖”

description: in which she admits her feelings for a fellow creator during a stream thinking he’ll never see it

pairing: noen eubanks x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

The sound of a new donation message coming in pulled you away from your game for a split second. The automated voice read the message out to you: “are there any influencers that you are totally crushing on right now?”

You chuckle to yourself as you turn back to your game. “You guys really wanna start something, huh? You realize this will be trending within an hour if I say anything.”

You glanced over at your chat to see they were begging you to tell them who your influencer crush was. You had mentioned a few times that there was a fellow influencer that you had a crush on, but you refused to admit who it was (for obvious reasons). Your viewers, however, were determined to find out who this mystery man you liked was.

“We promise we’ll keep it a secret,” you read, managing to catch one message before it disappeared into the void of never ending messages. “I don’t believe you guys at all.”

You laughed as you watched the chat blow up again. You finally paused your game and made your face cam bigger for the audience. “Okay, you know what? Fuck it, there’s no way he’ll ever see this and I’m not big enough of a content creator to have articles written about me. My influencer crush is Noen Eubanks. If you don’t know who he is, look him up on TikTok and you’ll totally understand why I have such a crush on him.”

Your chat went absolutely wild at this. You went back to playing your game, smiling to yourself as you did so. It felt nice to get that off of your chest, and you knew you were about to get a kick out of your fan’s reactions to this.

Like you said, you had no fear of Noen actually finding out what you said. You had a bit of a following, but it was nothing too big. Just enough that you could be classified as “Internet famous”, but not enough that admitting you had a crush on someone else who had a much bigger following than you would be a big deal.

Or so you thought.

After your stream, you decided to go right to bed. You were feeling tired and had to get up early to edit the video you were planning on uploading. You weren’t awake to witness the internet absolutely explode over your comment, but lucky for you it was still happening when you woke up the next morning.

When you checked your phone for the first time that day, you noticed that your notifications had blown up over night. You figured it was just your fans teasing you over your crush on Noen, which it partly was, but you noticed that it was also YouTube news Twitter accounts and internet tabloid accounts tagging you in their articles about your crush on Noen.

“Oh no,” you said, your eyes widening as you read through article after article, tweet after tweet.

Before you knew it, you had spent nearly two hours sat on the floor, reading through everything that mentioned both you and Noen. All the articles were the same: an brief introduction to you and your small Twitch/YouTube following, talking about you admitting to having a crush on Noen the night before, and asking whether the reading audience believed that you and Noen would make a good couple or not.

The reactions from fans were as entertaining as you figured - with many of your fans trying to come up with ship names for you and Noen and tagging him in clips from your stream - but then there were the less than entertaining reactions. Many people, whether they were Noen’s fans or just people who wanted to hate on you you weren’t sure, were saying you had mentioned Noen’s name just for clout, or that your “crush” was nothing more than an infatuation over his looks.

It wasn’t until your phone rang that you were finally pulled out of your trance and back to the real world. Your friend’s name lit up on your screen, and it took you a moment to collect yourself before you answered.

“(Y/N), have you been online yet today?” she asked.

You sighed and nodded, then remembered she couldn’t actually see you. “Yeah, I’ve been scrolling for the past two hours on Twitter.”

“You haven’t checked your Twitch page, or YouTube account yet?”

Your eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “No? Should I?”

“You definitely should.”

You put her on speaker and switched to your Twitch app. You were shocked to see that you had skyrocketed in subs overnight, same with your YouTube page. You had gained a solid ten thousand subscribers on both platforms, and it was still rising by the second.

“So this situation has gained me more subscribers, who cares? That’s not why I talked about Noen on stream,” you said.

“Oh no, honey. It isn’t just the situation that has given you new subscribers. Go check Noen’s Twitter.”

You knew what she was implying, but you had to see it for your own eyes. You immediately opened the Twitter app again and typed in Noen’s name. You were brought to his Twitter page, where his most recent tweet was a link to the clip from your stream along with a caption that read, “When your internet crush calls you *their* internet crush”.

You covered your mouth in shock. You were sure you were about to start screaming, but you were so speechless that you couldn’t force any sounds from your mouth.

“I’m assuming by the silence that you’ve seen it,” your friend said after a prolonged moment of silence.

“D-Did he just c-call me his...?” you trailed off, unable to finish your sentence.

“He did,” your friend confirmed. “And both of your fans are going wild. They’ve already come up with a ship name for you, which isn’t the most clever name but I admire their spirit.”

You could barley hear what your friend was saying. You were still staring at the tweet in disbelief. Your mind could barley comprehend anything else besides the fact that your online crush thought the same as you. You were trying to tell yourself not to get too worked up, as it was most likely that nothing was going to come from this besides some gossip for a week or more, but your heart was still racing with excitement.

You gasped as a notification popped up on the top of your screen: “@/eubanks_noen is requesting to message you”.

“He’s trying to DM me,” you whisper, so silently that you could barley hear yourself.”

“What?”

“He’s trying to DM me! On Twitter!”

“What are you doing talking to me?! Go answer his DM!”

You were too focused to laugh as you hung up the phone and went into your DMs. The familiar profile picture that you saw almost every day on your timeline was the first thing you saw in your message requests. Your whole body was shaking so much that you could barley see the screen as you pressed to open it.

“hi :)”

It was a very simple message, but it was enough to make your heart race even more.

You were debating on messaging back, wondering if maybe this was a fake account or something. But you knew there was only one way to find out for sure, so you took a deep breath and responded.

“hi! :)”

His response came near seconds later: “so...we’re the internet’s hottest power couple, huh?”

You chuckled to yourself. “i guess we are. sorry if i ruined your mentions last night. i didn’t think it would blow up the way it has. i’m not all that famous online.”

“are you kidding me? you’re like one of the best twitch streamers. i’ve watched every single one of your streams, including last night’s”

You felt your face heating up, but a slight groan of embarrassment came from your lips. You were thinking of all the embarrassing things you had said and done on stream, and now wished you could just melt into the floor or erase the entire internet.

“oh that’s embarrassing. i’d say i’m not that awkward and dumb in real life, but i’m actually more so”

“i wouldn’t say you’re awkward or dumb at all. i think you’re adorable”

“Oh my God!” you exclaimed to no one in particular. If your face got any hotter, it would be on fire.

“you really know how to talk to a girl”

“i really don’t, but i’m glad you’re enjoying my attempts to flirt”

“so you’re flirting? never would’ve known”

“i know, it’s hard to tell. i’m trying to be subtle”

You continued to message Noen for a while. It felt so natural, as if you weren’t talking to someone you had been crushing on for about a year now. You were extremely glad you weren’t coming off as awkward as you normally felt.

Finally, after having been sat on the floor for a good three hours, your back began to ache and your stomach was growling so loudly in attempts to get your attention. You realized then that you had put getting breakfast on hold in order to fall deep into the hole of internet gossip that had surrounded you overnight.

“love talking to you and all, but i’m gonna have to go for a little bit. i’ve been sat on the floor basically since i woke up and i haven’t eaten yet today so my stomach is very upset with me”

“why are you on the floor? 😂”

“when i’m stressed i tend to sit down no matter where i am, and i was very stressed to see my name plastered all over social media this morning”

“why were you stressed over that?”

“it’s not something i’m exactly used to. like i said, i’m not overly famous online. i just have a small following. i’m not someone who has an article written about every little thing she says. also like i said, i didn’t expect you to see me admit that i have a crush on you last night, so i was so worried about what your reaction was going to be”

“i guess i can understand that. i haven’t had a lot written about me. i’m not a big tiktoker like some of my friends are, but i guess that’s a blessing”

You started to type another message, but paused when you saw the three dots from Noen indicating that he was typing something else.

“for what it’s worth, i’ve had a internet crush on you since you first started streaming”

Your jaw dropped at this. You had started streaming months before you even knew about Noen, which meant he had known about you before you knew about him. Just when you thought this day couldn’t get any better.

“wow! that’s quite a while. you must be one of my first subscribers then”

“i’m up there i think. i’ll wear that badge with pride”

The three dots again. You waited anxiously to see what he was about to say.

“i liked getting to talk to you today, though. maybe we could talk offline sometime, like through text or phone call. maybe meet in person eventually”

Your smile was so wide that it hurt your cheeks. “yeah, i’d really like that”

You exchanged phone numbers and added his to your contacts. You finally pulled yourself off the floor and started making a super late breakfast while also starting to edit your next video since you had also gotten such a late start on that.

You were putting your food on a plate when your phone chimed, indicating a new text message.

“btw, it’s nice to finally get to meet you internet crush :)”

“it’s nice to get to meet you, too, internet crush”

You sat at the table, your heart feeling warm. And to think, it all came true thanks to one nosy donation.

Not sure how much I like this imagine, but I hope you enjoyed anyways!

[amphitritemists]

Last year, I discovered The Magnus Archives through some fanart created by @sock.on.shoes on Instagram. At the time, I was at the peak of my Good Omens obsession, figuring out my sexuality, and looking for solid gay representation. Based on the fanart I saw, I assumed JonMartin were a cute gay couple from a tv show I never heard about. A quick Google search told me I was wrong.

I hated horror because I associated the genre with cheap jump scares or images that would haunt my nightmares. I hated podcasts because I didn’t think I was an auditory learner. I’m the sort of person that would usually zone out and lose focus trying to listen to someone speak for too long. Back then, I was only starting to tolerate audiobooks because I wanted something to do while I ate meals alone, but I restricted myself to books that I already read before.

Nothing about The Magnus Archives should have attracted me, and yet, I found it on Youtube and decided to listen to it. 

Right away, I fell in love with Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood (because Jon merely mentioning that Martin “would contribute nothing but delays” was enough for me to project all my love into a character I haven’t even heard the voice of yet). I found the horror intriguing because the statements were short, interesting scenarios that didn’t try to randomly scream in my ear just to make me jump. The podcast made me stop and think about ethics and morals, what the right thing to do was or even if there was a right thing to do at all.

The more I listened, the better the podcast got. Outside the beautifully crafted statements, there was an actual world. More characters were introduced, more characters for me to fall hopelessly in love with because of how well-written they are. Fears were given names and I could point at them like warped up Hogwarts houses, latching on to the ones I blamed the most for my effed up head. I’m still in awe of it all.

This podcast got me through the second half of the pandemic. Because of this podcast, I found myself drawing and writing for fun again. I made a Tiktok as an excuse to cosplay some of my favorite TMA characters because I didn’t want to wait till Halloween. I became more active on Tumblr because I had no one to share this experience with in real life and I needed to rant somewhere. Then, I found @m-e-w-666 and from there I joined a Discord filled with so many wonderful new friends (you all know who you are and I love you guys <3).

I don’t know where I’ll go from here or if I’ll ever find another podcast that will match the obsession that I feel towards this one. I know there are other good ones out there and I have a list of some I want to try, but this one will always hold a special place in my heart because of the community it led me to. Thank you to the Rusty Quill crew for giving me much more than a podcast. It’s been one hell of a ride and every day I’m glad I jumped on.

[marueonmain]

Sun Would Be Good ~ ImAllexx (1/2)

Summary: Y/N tries to help Alex out during a difficult time. 

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Language. Themes of Self-Deprecation. Depression Talk.

Word Count: 1.5k

Y/N unlocked the front door to her boyfriend’s apartment using the one copy of the key Alex was ever given. He said he would not need it for himself as George was always in.

“Hello? Alex?” Y/N called out. She looked to the undisturbed sofa and glanced into the empty kitchen as she walked through the familiar space. Closing in on Alex’s bedroom, she thought she would have heard something like his presentation voice as he spoke to a camera or the electronic fanfare of a video game or dialogue from a Harry Potter film like he had her watch with him a hundred times before.

There was no such sound – none at all.

KNOCK. KNOCK. Y/N opened the door to Alex’s bedroom. It was about the same as it always was: trashed: wrinkled clothes sat in heaps on the floor and on his desk were plastic cups half-full with flat drinks and frappuccinos with just a few centimeters of whipped topping left at the bottom. His bed bore crumpled sheets and a balled-up duvet hiding every part of the young man save a socked foot dangling off the edge and his button nose poking out for fresh air.

Yes. It was about the same as it always was; still, there was one small yet stark difference. It was dark. Alex was never one to rise in the morning, and yank open his curtains to the bright sun outside. But he did usually have his ceiling light on during the day – however dim and horribly yellow-tinted it was.

Y/N crossed to Alex’s bed. On the low and narrow table near his headboard was his phone plugged into a short charger. Y/N turned it over in her hand. It read: 15:20. And under the time were all the notifications of her messages to him – unnoticed and unread. He had switched his phone to silent.

Y/N considered that maybe Alex had slept in that long because he needed to; he stayed up so late, so consistently. She debated the idea for another minute until she found she simply could not convince herself that it was just a normal lie in. Alex was not even asleep – or he was not anymore – as he retracted his foot, tucking it back under the duvet, and released a not-so-quiet groan of discontent.

Besides the rustling of sheets and their collective breathing, there was another sound – running water. Y/N put the phone back face-down on the table and left for the ensuite. It, too, was trashed. Y/N flicked on the light. All the stuff Alex kept out of sight – toothbrush, nail cutter, polish, unopened tin of hair balm – were strewn about. A thin line of water fell from the tap. Y/N turned it off, and when she did, she noticed a razor without its disposable blade lying in the sink. She took a step back. Looking around, her eyes landed first on the empty towel rail, then the disposable blade sat on the floor in a splat of shaving foam.

Y/N picked up the blade, ran it under water, reattached it, and left the razor on the counter round the sink. She returned to the bedroom and to Alex, who was still hiding under his duvet in the middle of an unkempt bed in a dark room.  

Y/N spoke for the first time since seeing him. “Alex, love. Are you awake?” She knew the answer already.

The lump in the middle of the bed did not move; a voice came from within it. It was faint as if carried on a breath rather than pushed out with intent, “Yeah.”

“What’s happened in there?” She tipped her head in the direction of the ensuite despite knowing Alex could not see the gesture before sitting gingerly on the end of his bed.

“All I wanted, yeah?” Alex interrupted himself with an exasperated sigh then started again, this time sounding like he was speaking through clenched teeth, “All I wanted was to shave. I couldn’t— I thought I could shave, but no. I didn’t leave the shaving foam where I always leave it, and it took me forever to find it. Then the razor breaks the second it touches my skin. And I couldn’t find the blade to put it back together. And then it’s like, who cares at that point? I’m not going out anyway, nobody cares if I shave, nobody cares to see me. And now I’m saying it all out loud, and I sound so stupid, but I just wanted to be able to do one thing – that’s it – one fucking thing!”

Y/N made a closed fist and tapped it against where she figured her boyfriend’s legs were hidden under the duvet. She cleared her throat. “How about you get up, huh? We can go out for breakfast.”

“I can’t go out right now.”

“You don’t even have to brush your hair or anything,” she said as her eyes scanned the floor; she spotted his black TikTok bucket hat. “You can just throw on a hat. I look a mess anyway.”

Alex waited, then whispered a gentle plea, “Go away, Y/N.”

“I know, ok? I know it’s difficult.” Y/N’s throat tightened. “It’s difficult, but it isn’t helping you to sit in the dark with whatever is going on in your head right now.”

“Nothing.”

“Maybe breakfast is a lot to ask. I don’t mean to be pushy; I just—”

Underneath the lump, Alex shifted from lying on his side to his stomach, as evident when his voice became muffled like it was being filtered through a pillow. “Leave me alone.”

“I want to be able to help. Could you help me to understand what I can do?”

“I want to sleep.”

“Do you think you could sit up? Nothing else, no going anywhere, just sitting up.”

Alex ripped the duvet off himself, throwing his arm out with a hard and quick movement like he was trying to rid himself of the appendage; it was a wonder he did not dislocate his elbow. Y/N got her first good look at his face: messy hair weighed down with grease and eyes so bloodshot that she subconsciously scratched at her own to relieve some phantom irritation.  

“Fuck off! Alright, Y/N? Is that clear enough for you?” As the last accusatory word left his mouth, the regret was already plain on his face. His features softened, and he pulled into himself.

“You don’t mean that. I know you don’t mean that.” Y/N tried to keep her composure because she still understood despite how blindsided she was at the outburst. She understood the potholes in the road to recovery and management; she understood a depressive episode. And how Alex might not have recognized he was in one.

It must have been just as difficult for him as it was for her to realize when she had slipped. Her descent was always slow, gradual enough that she could normalize everything. Instead of thinking it odd she had not brushed her hair in three days, she would simply wake up on the fourth and ask herself: Why do it today? I haven’t the last three. Instead of reflecting on the unreasonableness of how one small thing going wrong caused her to scream out in unjust anger or caused tears to spring to her eyes, she reasoned with herself: I’m just sensitive, I know that.

Y/N empathized with how Alex’s episode was causing him to be disproportionately irritable and to respond inappropriately to not being able to shave, a little annoyance that he would otherwise brush off easily or not care about at all.

“Sorry.” Alex untangled himself from his sheets. It was slow going as he moved like it was not him controlling his body, like he was on strings. He dragged himself up into a seated position and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Not meeting Y/N’s gaze, he said, with hesitation, “Sun would be good. I think. Would you want to go for a walk with me?”

Y/N smiled genuinely for the first time that afternoon. “Absolutely.”

“I need to change; would you mind grabbing my shoes? I kicked ‘em off last night near the sofa.”

Y/N nodded. She crossed the room and took two steps out of his bedroom – SLAM – she jumped at the sound of Alex throwing his door closed behind her. Y/N turned around and tried the handle – locked.

“You’re not serious,” Y/N muttered. She pulled harder on the handle as if her strength were the issue; she raised her voice, “Are you serious?! Alex!”

Surely not. Y/N let her hand drop limp from the door handle. Not Alex. Not my sweet boyfriend, the clingiest and softest man I’ve ever met. He hadn’t slammed a door in my face. No. Surely not. And if he had…? She stood there – at the door – not because she was waiting for Alex to open it. To laugh and call it a joke even though it was far from funny. No. She stood there because she just did not think to go anywhere else. Y/N was consumed in all her worst thoughts. It was just what she had tried to stop Alex from doing. And now I’ve failed twice.