#and he fully posted this on facebook

[britneyshakespeare]

around 6 o'clock (east coast u.s. standard time) some guy from fucking australia, with no mutual friends obviously, friend- and message-requested me on facebook saying he hoped i didn't mind the add, but "you came up in my recommended and are the cutest ginger i've ever seen." and it like literally gave me chills because holy hellllll, how the FUCK did this guy find my profile? i have no public posts; i hardly ever comment on public posts; i don't post in large, active groups; etc etc etc etc so it creeped the FUCK out of me. sometimes fb puts ppl w no mutual friends in my "people you may know" but, creepily enough, they often are people i... know, if not have some sort of mutual connection with? like they might be old classmates or friends of friends creating new profiles (so no mutual friends yet), etc. and this is true for ppl who also don't have info on their profile saying they live in/near my hometown, went to my school at some point, etc. like THAT is very creepy how meta somehow knows that. but this guy from australia i am absolutely sure i have no connection to whatsoever. WHY WOULD I???? i have no connection to australia at all other than a couple of mutuals i have on here.

so anyway i took a screenshot of the message and showed it to my friends cuz i was freaking out about it and needed to get that off my chest and one friend was like "why dont you block him" (me reading that 4 hours later) and im like you know what i didnt think it was necessary but not a bad idea. and i go to check the message request and the message was unsent, and he also deleted the friend request. lmaooooo. maybe his girlfriend found his phone

[probablyasocialecologist]

Fifteen government departments have been monitoring the social media activity of potential critics and compiling “secret files” in order to block them from speaking at public events, the Observer can reveal. Under the guidelines issued in each department, including the departments of health, culture, media and sport, and environment, food and rural affairs, officials are advised to check experts’ Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and LinkedIn accounts. They are also told to conduct Google searches on those individuals, using specific terms such as “criticism of government or prime minister”. The guidelines are designed to prevent anyone who has criticised the government in the previous three to five years from speaking at government-organised conferences and other events.

[...]

These hidden checks are unlawful, running contrary to data protection laws and potentially breaching equality and human rights legislation. Dan Kaszeta, a chemical weapons expert, was disinvited in April from giving a keynote speech at a UK defence conference after officials found social media posts criticising Tory ministers and government immigration policy. He told the Observer this weekend that he knows of 12 others who have uncovered evidence of similar government blacklisting, most of whom are frightened of speaking out. But he said far more will be unaware they ever failed secret vetting. He said: “The full extent of this is shocking and probably not fully known. I was lucky enough to be given clearcut, obvious evidence. It’s truly awful.”

[ramennoodlezzzao3]

outsiders modern AU head cannons

The gang would absolutely FORBID Ponyboy or Johnny to take an Uber or lift, they said they had to call one of them if they didn’t have a way home. It’s “Dangerous” to get into an Uber because it’s a stranger (I have a finished, unpublished one-shot about Ponyboy in this situation if yall want me to post it 🤭)

Darry refuses to get messenger or Facebook. He uses Life360 and the built in phone app to message Sodapop and Pony. He eventually got messenger so he could be apart of the group chat.

Ponyboy has several secret social media accounts. He posts on them and has quite the following, but has practically blocked every member of the gang so they can’t watch him.

Darry watches the news all the time unless someone changes it

Dally can’t count how many times he’s broken his phone

Two-Bit orders DoorDash just so he can get beers delivered. He also has to buy any soda of pony’s he drank

(Not really a modern HC but it’s a HC) Ponyboy actually HATES Pepsi, but he drinks it because people often buy it for him without asking what he wants. His favorite soda is actually Dr. Pepper, specifically the cherry flavored

Ponyboy used vapes instead of cigarettes to try and quit smoking. Steve was the one who found out and literally destroyed all of his vapes so that pone didn’t get sick

Sodapop uses instagram a LOT. He doesn’t have a huge following, less than pony has on TikTok, maybe around 5K followers? But he notices the pictures he posts with pony get LOTS of likes and views and he always gets so confused as to why

Johnny knows virtually every single TikTok dance known to man

Johnny and Ponyboy watch horror movies together (Johnny knows way to much about murder and scares everyone)

Ponyboy has a soft boy style while everyone else is literally leather jackets and jeans. He literally is the color in the gang

Two-Bit talks in TikTok language and that’s it. He will say stuff like “Chat” and “Cap” and Ponyboy is the only one who fully understands what he is even saying

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

This makes me incredibly angry.

[ID: Screenshots of a Facebook post from user Advocatus Peregrini, which reads:

I was conversing with a fully-grown adult a few days ago, born and educated in the USA, who let this little gem drop:

"Well, it's like Shakespeare said, "Love conquers all!""

I pointed out that Shakespeare never said that, Virgil did, (Eclogues X) and Chaucer after him (Canterbury Tales.)

She said, "Oh I'm sure Shakespeare said that. In Romeo and Juliet!"

I sighed. I've been in that play several times, in different roles, and even directed it. That text does not occur in it.

But the real grind-my-teeth moment here was that if Romeo and Juliet can be said to have a message, it is most certainly not "Love conquers all," seeing as the lovers die by their own hands with a trail of their friends and relations' corpses in their wake.

Neither this fact, nor the fact that I knew the play, nor my explanation that Virgil and Chaucer used the phrase long before Shakespeare's birth dented her determination that "Love conquers all" came from Shakespeare.

"You don't know ALL the versions!" she protested.

All the versions?

Alternative Bard?

With every instinct screaming at me to let the matter drop, warning me that some horror that will not soon be absent from my nightmares waited around the next corner of this conversation. I pressed on.

It was a decision I was soon to regret.

I asked when she had first read "Romeo and Juliet." She said she had only read it once, when she was in Junior High. In the version she was taught, Romeo and Juliet survive, are reconciled with their parents, and are married in the church with their friends Mercutio and Tybalt arm in arm in the wedding party.

"Help me into some house, Benvolio, or I shall faint."

It turned out that her school had their own "version" of Romeo and Juliet, with an "uplifting" ending. This was printed and distributed by a religious education publisher. And it was the only version of the story that she had ever read. Of course she had HEARD other people say that the story was a tragedy, but she just assumed they were wrong.

And she did not see why MY version of Shakespeare should be considered better than HER Shakespeare, which, after all, had a much more wholesome ending.

I explained, in vain, that "my" version is definitive because Shakespeare actually wrote it (quiet, you Oxfordians. Don't make me stop this car) and the message of the play - that when adult stubbornness meets youthful impulsiveness tragedy ensues - is lost in the ersatz, happy-clappy ending.

She said the ending that had been Frankensteined onto Shakespeare's play by the "Christian Education" publisher was better than the original ending, "if the ending is as sad as you say it is."

At this point, I concluded that this was a person who deserved to go through the rest of her life "...safest in shame! being fool'd, by foolery thrive!" I bid her adieu.

After the conversation, I wondered, darkly, if that was to be the fate of Shakespeare, and all other literature if the happy-clappy people get their way - as harmless and "uplifiting" as a cheerleader's chant.

I wondered what these bowdlerizers would do with "Hamlet?" or worse, "Titus Andronicus" or "MacB-" Nothing wholesome, I'm sure. Oh, that's right, what they can't appropriate, they ban. Or burn.

In trying to protect children, we leave them undefended from "...the slings and arrows" that life will no doubt throw their way. Shakespeare raises the issues of tragedy - the fatal flaw, the last turning, the role of fate, as well or better than any author before or since. He is a gentle tutor, much to be preferred over that stern and dangerous teacher, Experientia Inopinatum.

But, as ever, it really isn't about the children. It's about the adults, and their desire to avoid answering difficult questions from agile young minds, who know no fear and swarm like eager flies around questions that have been boggling our best minds for millenia. To answer the questions that literature raises, you have to have thought deeply about them yourself. And that is something that few dare to do.]  end id

[sea-salted-wolverine]

I went to Hawaii. I went diving. It's the end of surf season and not quite dive season but this was a last minute family trip so its not as if I planned this. My standards for "decent dive conditions" are "water deep enough to get my head under that won't immediately kill me". So I was diving.

I found a phone at the bottom of the ocean, just below a surf break. Its pink. Its a iPhone. It's in a case. The case flooded, but Apple is a bitch who won't let anyone fix their precious hardware so the entire motherboard is sealed in resin. It's fully waterproof.

The phone takes a charge. My husband and I fly home, with the phone. The phone powers on. Estimated time at the bottom based on condition of the case : at least a month or 2.

My apple user husbandpulls emergency contact info off the phone. Number is disconnected. Commence the Facebook stalk. We find the guy. He hasn't posted in years. Good for him but frustrating. We find his sister from his page, who hasn't posted since last year. But on her page, she has a link to the health clinic she runs. The clinic has a phone number.

We leave one of the weirder voice-mails that clinic has ever received and prepare to wait 2 to 10 business days for a reply. We get a call back within the hour. She's on the wrong island but shes fairly certain we've found the right guy. She passes on our info to her brother and an hour or so later we get a call from him.

It's his wife's phone. She dropped it off a stand up paddle board while taking pictures of nephew learning to surf. There was also a loyalty card punchcard thing to an ice cream shop in the case, which we did find, but it was a wet paper pulp so it got tossed with the flooded case. Evidently she was more concerned with getting that back that the phone, which she had already replaced, since she had dropped it a full 5 months ago.

So anyway, we got a shipping address and we're mailing a miraculously not bricked phone from Alaska back to Hawaii. This is a new personal record for recovery diving.

[kedreeva]

Two days ago, I saw a woman I would have sworn was a friend of mine from high school, except the man with her wasn't recognizable. She turned where I could see her fully, and I realized it wasn't her after all. Same hair, wearing glasses, same body shape. We were good friends, once, and it was nice to believe it could be her, for a moment.

This morning, she made a post on facebook about feeling lonely around the holidays, and I reached out to say I think of her sometimes still. I see her in other people, sometimes.

Tonight, she replied that a few days ago, she told her son about me, a friend she had. A girl who loved dragons, she said. He loves dragons, too.

I still love them. They have more feathers than I expected, but I love them still. I was so many things, when I was a teenager, but I think that was the best of them- the girl who loved dragons. She was the artist. She still is an artist. We've both come a long way, but I don't think we got that far apart.

She asked if I wanted to catch up. Hopefully I'll see her soon.

[lavendermoonlitskies]

When I say I feel betrayed over this whole situation, I don’t mean by Neil. I don’t believe in the whole parasocial relationship thing, and I know damn well that he’s just some random man halfway across the earth, whom I have no reason not to believe he’d do something so despicable. I feel betrayed because I let my guard down. I let myself forget that men in positions of power have always been prone to behaving this way, and I got myself all immersed in something he had a major part in creating.

I’ve said this before but I haven’t been this excited about a piece of media in a very long time, and I don’t know that I’ll ever let myself do this again. I get obsessed with things, when I decide I really like something it takes up like 90% of my inner thoughts. I normally try to tone it down, not become annoying to the people around me when I find that it’s hard not to talk about something that really lights me up, but this time I tried reminding myself that I deserve to fully embrace the things that make me happy. So I did. I joined Ao3, I started reading and writing fics, I logged back on to my 10 year old Tumblr account and rebranded it to my new hyperfixation, I even joined a number of discord servers and Facebook groups. It really hurts to have all that so tainted overnight.

I’m sorry if you followed me for Good Omens related content and now I’ve only been posting about this the last couple days, maybe that will change some day but right now I don’t know. I’m trying not to spam.

[rotten-pomegranate]

Hiii thanks you very much for answering my ask🥹❤️

But can please I get one where they never find reader🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Yandere Adult trio and trouble trio when reader escapes and they never find her

First one here

Yes bbg

This is a bit short

Warnings: killing, yandere

/|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\

Feitan

Feitan is offended and pissed that you have the audacity to try and escape him

He’s gonna look for you for years and even after he stops looking he’s still gonna check from time to time if you’ve become brave enough to make a Facebook page or a snapchat account

Even if he knows you aren’t with them he’s gonna kill all the family and friends he didn’t already torture to death trying to find you

Phinks

Like in the last one phinks is heart broken, why was he not enough for you, he fed you, clothed you, made sure you had a comfortable place to sleep every night

He’s gonna low key go crazy the more time passes that he can’t find you and he might ask the troupe for help and if he still can’t find you and they all fail at finding you he’ll be forced to stop because of his mental health

He’s still gonna have some major heartache though, oh some random person that has the same hair colour as you asks him for help? They are getting punched so hard they won’t be recognizable, he sees the nail polish you used to wear in the store? He’s buying it all just so he can throw it away when he’s done smashing them all

Shalnark

Shalnark isn’t very good at showing his emotions but he is sad, not because you got away because he’s doubting himself and his abilities to kidnap someone

He’s buying pad locks and camera and motion detectors for weed before he starts looking for you, that’s probably good for you because it gives you time to get away

When he starts looking he doesn’t think it will take long but you actually did a good job at disappearing and he’s slowing getting more frustrated

He’ll try less but he’ll never stop looking for you so make sure to always cover your tracks well

Chrollo

Chrollos not that worried, he starts tracking you right away and because of that he probably gets close a few times which slowly starts to piss him off

When he can no longer find anything about you he involves shalnark to help and when he can’t find anything he’s having a whole troupe meeting about it

He’s never gonna fully stop looking and he’s never gonna get over the loss of you, he might try and replace you but it isn’t help so he’ll kill the innocent person in your place

Illumi

Illumi is gonna go bat shit crazy when he finds out you escaped, the whole house is gonna know the whole town below his house is gonna feel his bloodlust

He’s gonna have every family member, every dog, every maid and butler out looking for you so you gotta be speedy

Your best Bet is honestly going to another country if you can do that without leaving any footprints

He’s gonna replace you because his family says he has to but whoever comes after you doesn’t mean anything to him like you did

Hisoka

Hisoka is the calmest, he figured he’d find you in like a week because of his skills and hunter license but after a couple months pass he’s starts getting annoyed

He’s pushes other stuff aside at this point to fully focus on looking for you but when it hits the one year mark he pushes it to the back of his mind again

He still makes en effort from time to time but not as often, he is sad you left you where his favourite toy and he didn’t even get a chance to break you

/|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\

©rotten-pomegranate- All rights reserved, don’t steal, translate, copy, plagiarize, claim my work as your own or post it on other platforms.

[mariacallous]

For Sander van der Linden, misinformation is personal.

As a child in the Netherlands, the University of Cambridge social psychologist discovered that almost all of his mother’s family had been executed by the Nazis during the Second World War. He became absorbed by the question of how so many people came to support the ideas of someone like Adolf Hitler, and how they might be taught to resist such influence.

While studying psychology at graduate school in the mid-2010s, van der Linden came across the work of American researcher William McGuire. In the 1960s, stories of brainwashed prisoners-of-war during the Korean War had captured the zeitgeist, and McGuire developed a theory of how such indoctrination might be prevented. He wondered whether exposing soldiers to a weaker form of propaganda might have equipped them to fight off a full attack once they’d been captured. In the same way that army drills prepared them for combat, a pre-exposure to an attack on their beliefs could have prepared them against mind control. It would work, McGuire argued, as a cognitive immunizing agent against propaganda—a vaccine against brainwashing.

Traditional vaccines protect us by feeding us a weaker dose of pathogen, enabling our bodies’ immune defenses to take note of its appearance so we’re better equipped to fight the real thing when we encounter it. A psychological vaccine works much the same way: Give the brain a weakened hit of a misinformation-shaped virus, and the next time it encounters it in fully-fledged form, its “mental antibodies” remember it and can launch a defense.

Van der Linden wanted to build on McGuire’s theories and test the idea of psychological inoculation in the real world. His first study looked at how to combat climate change misinformation. At the time, a bogus petition was circulating on Facebook claiming there wasn’t enough scientific evidence to conclude that global warming was human-made, and boasting the signatures of 30,000 American scientists (on closer inspection, fake signatories included Geri Halliwell and the cast of M*A*S*H). Van der Linden and his team took a group of participants and warned them that there were politically motivated actors trying to deceive them—the phony petition in this case. Then they gave them a detailed takedown of the claims of the petition; they pointed out, for example, Geri Halliwell’s appearance on the list. When the participants were later exposed to the petition, van der Linden and his group found that people knew not to believe it.

The approach hinges on the idea that by the time we’ve been exposed to misinformation, it’s too late for debunking and fact-checking to have any meaningful effect, so you have to prepare people in advance—what van der Linden calls “prebunking.” An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

When he published the findings in 2016, van der Linden hadn’t anticipated that his work would be landing in the era of Donald Trump’s election, fake news, and post-truth; attention on his research from the media and governments exploded. Everyone wanted to know, how do you scale this up?

Van der Linden worked with game developers to create an online choose-your-own-adventure game called Bad News, where players can try their hand at writing and spreading misinformation. Much like a broadly protective vaccine, if you show people the tactics used to spread fake news, it fortifies their inbuilt bullshit detectors.

But social media companies were still hesitant to get on board; correcting misinformation and being the arbiters of truth is not part of their core business model. Then people in China started getting sick with a mysterious flulike illness.

The coronavirus pandemic propelled the threat of misinformation to dizzying new heights. Van der Linden began working with the British government and bodies like the World Health Organization and the United Nations to create a more streamlined version of the game specifically revolving around Covid, which they called GoViral! They created more versions, including one for the 2020 US presidential election, and another to prevent extremist recruitment in the Middle East. Slowly, Silicon Valley came around.

A collaboration with Google has resulted in a campaign on YouTube in which the platform plays clips in the ad section before the video starts, warning viewers about misinformation tropes like scapegoating and false dichotomies and drawing examples from Family Guy and Star Wars. A study with 20,000 participants found that people who viewed the ads were better able to spot manipulation tactics; the feature is now being rolled out to hundreds of millions of people in Europe.

Van der Linden understands that working with social media companies, who have historically been reluctant to censor disinformation, is a double-edged sword. But, at the same time, they’re the de facto guardians of the online flow of information, he says, “and so if we’re going to scale the solution, we need their cooperation.” (A downside is that they often work in unpredictable ways. Elon Musk fired the entire team who was working on pre-bunking at Twitter when he became CEO, for instance.)

This year, van der Linden wrote a book on his research, titled Foolproof: Why We Fall for Misinformation and How to Build Immunity. Ultimately, he hopes this isn’t a tool that stays under the thumb of third-party companies; his dream is for people to inoculate one another. It could go like this: You see a false narrative gaining traction on social media, you then warn your parents or your neighbor about it, and they’ll be pre-bunked when they encounter it. “This should be a tool that’s for the people, by the people,” van der Linden says.

[22ndnervousbreakdown]

Which social media would Sherlock Holmes characters have, according to a discussion I had with my friends in the middle of a night a couple days ago. This is ACD Holmes I think but leaning onto Soviet movies somewhat.

(And yes I'm aware telegram isn't popular outside of russian-speaking internet but just let it be part of the joke i guess)

Holmes: a lot of fake accounts on every website ever, but the only place that he actually posts on for himself is his telegram channel about tobacco varieties that has almost no followers. When Watson learned that Holmes has telegram, he was pissed because he thought Holmes is there to buy drugs.

Watson: he's a really popular ao3 writer. Also has a tumblr blog and an insta where he posts pictures of food, pictures of Holmes and sometimes his drawings (which he photographs with a lot of random stuff in the background for "aesthetics"). He also created a number of "official" Sherlock Holmes accounts without telling Holmes and makes all the posts there himself.

Mrs Hudson: facebook, where she posts recipes, household advices and stuff like that, and occasionally grumbles about Holmes and Watson. Also whenever they do something that really pisses her off, she would list the flat for rent, but always take it down shortly.

Moriarty: tumblr where he mostly posts about maths and a personal website to advertise as a private math tutor. Also a private telegram channel that Holmes somehow managed to follow from a fake acc.

Lestrade: EVERY social media ever. Most notably, twitter, where he always gets in fights (especially with Holmes's fake accs). He also set up an official Scotland Yard tiktok where he just makes really bad edits of policemen just walking somewhere with some music and lots of filters on.

Irene Adler: Instagram. Also onlyfans where she posts really rarely and she's always fully clothed, but she still has like thousands on thousands of followers there.

Mycroft: an official twitter that he hired someone to manage. Also facebook.

Mary Morstan: She doesn't actually exist, it's just one of Holmes's fake Instagram accs where he posted pictures of "Watson's wedding" to escape rumours.

Sir Henry Baskerville: onlyfans with only one subscriber whose username is infusoria666. Everyone but sir Henry himself knows it's Dr. Mortimer. Also Dr. Mortimer tried to set up a travel blog for him but ended up having to post there by himself.

Dr. Mortimer: tumblr blog full of skulls and also a youtube channel. He's also one of the few people who follow Holmes's tobacco telegram, and probably its biggest fan. When they met, he mentioned his youtube channel a lot, hoping that Holmes will ask for a link, but he just ignored even the most obvious hints.

Also:

Baker Street irregulars all have tiktok. They force Watson to watch skibidi toilets.

Lestrade writes with a lot of errors and uses emojis excessively.

Moriarty writes immaculately with all the capital letters and punctuation and periods in the end of every sentence. Holmes does the same but with no capital letters.

Holmes followed Irene Adler from one of his female fake accs. She in turn followed his tobacco channel from a male acc, and commented under one of his posts recommending him to follow a blog on autism.

Once Watson posted a photo of his lunch on his insta and after that a photo of Holmes with a caption "desert :)" and refused to delete it.

Holmes made a youtube channel about beekeeping when he retired.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Jay Kuo at The Status Kuo:

Celebrations turned to horror in New Orleans as the driver of a pickup truck plowed into a crowd of revelers in the French Quarter of the city in the early hours of New Year’s morning. A total of 15 people are dead and around three dozen injured, some very seriously. The nation was just processing that attack when a Tesla cybertruck exploded outside the Trump hotel in Las Vegas later that same morning. The vehicle’s trunk contained large firework mortars and gasoline and camp fuel canisters. The driver was killed and seven people in the blast zone were injured, thankfully none seriously. Many Americans are understandably concerned about the threat of violence, terror and how the incoming Trump administration will handle such incidents. As I’ll discuss below, there are some important questions that remain unanswered about the attacks, and the response to them from the right is a disturbing preview of what we can expect.

Organized terror?

After a police shootout that killed the New Orleans attacker, identified as Shamsud-Din Bahar Jabbar, investigators found devices resembling homemade bombs in and near the truck and elsewhere in the area. This has understandably led to questions over whether Jabbar acted alone. [Update: Authorities now believe Jabbar did in fact act alone.] Jabbar’s public statements also suggest that law enforcement should look further into whether he was a sole attacker or part of a group or cell. Hours earlier, he had posted videos to Facebook indicating he was inspired by the Islamic State, and investigators found an Islamic State sticker on the trailer hitch of the rented truck. By these acts, it’s clear Jabbar fully intended his allegiances to be known once he completed his attack. “By carrying an ISIS flag with him during the attack, the suspect wanted to show that he was a true believer, aligned with the ISIS cause, and perhaps hoping to trigger others into following suit,” said Colin P. Clarke, a counterterrorism analyst interviewed by the Times. [...]

A terrorist that few suspected

We’re beginning to learn about Jabbar’s background, and it doesn’t seem to fit any easy patterns nor raise immediate red flags. Contrary to initial right wing claims that he was a recent migrant, Jabbar was born in Texas and was raised as a Christian but converted to Islam long ago, according to his brother. Jabbar served almost eight years in the army, deploying to Afghanistan from February 2009 to January 2010. He became an Army Reservist after leaving active duty in January 2015, then left the reserves as a staff sergeant in July 2020. He received several awards including the Army Commendation Medal, the Army Good Conduct Medal, the Army Reserve Components Achievement Medal, the Army Achievement Medal and a National Defense Service Medal. [...]

The Tesla bomber suspect

Less is known about the perpetrator of the other attack. A local Denver news outlet, Denver7, reported that the suspect in the Las Vegas Tesla explosion is Matthew Livelsberger, who has multiple Colorado Springs addresses associated with him. There are some unsettling coincidences between the two attacks that have police investigating whether there could be any connection between them. Like Jabbar, Livelsberger was a former servicemember. According to a LinkedIn profile bearing his name and image, Livelsberger was a Special Forces Green Beret as well as an intelligence, operations and communications specialist.

[...]

Politicization of the attacks

Right wing media, Donald Trump and other radical politicians immediately sought to exploit the New Orleans attack, insinuating falsely that Jabbar, a former Christian born and raised in Texas, was somehow a migrant who had recently arrived in the U.S. The first culprit was Fox, which falsely reported that the vehicle driven by Jabbar had crossed the Southern border at Eagle Pass two days before the attack. Fox has since corrected its reporting, but not before Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene (Q-GA) picked up on the misinformation and amplified it. She has not taken her post down. Donald Trump also jumped in to insinuate that this attack was due to migrant crime. In typical Trump form, he talked first about criminals coming into the country, claimed falsely that the crime rates in the U.S. are at levels never seen when they have in fact fallen sharply, then went on about the New Orleans attack as if migrant crime and the attack itself were related, when they are not at all.

The Las Vegas attack is also coming under political scrutiny. After the identify of the Tesla cybertruck driver became known, MAGA loyalists leapt to portray Matthew Livelsberger as anti-Trump by (checks notes) accusing his wife of being a Trump hater. This was based primarily on (checks notes again) a Facebook comment from 2016. Rather than give much oxygen to these absurd efforts, I note simply that it appears the two have been divorced for some time, that she is now remarried, and that Livelsberger’s politics aren’t clear but are being scrutinized to assess a possible motive. [Update: A close family member of Livelsberger told The Independent that Livelsperger was “100 percent” a patriot who “loved Trump” and was a “Rambo type.”]

Jay Kuo’s commentary on the two terrorist attacks on New Year’s Day 2025 is so spot-on. Imagine Kash Patel leading the FBI under such scenarios? It would be a nightmare.

See Also:

Let's Address This: MAGAs Exploit Atrocity to Incite Hatred

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

Can you do a mini fic of al and seth accidentally running into boos ex?

He who shouldn't be named.

I use (Y/N) bc the ex isn't gonna know Boo's new nickname so lol

"Didn't (Y/N) say this brand?" Holding up a brand of flour, Seth turned to Alphonse. The pinkette paused from trying to leave to the bread isle in the small grocery store.

"Seth. Please I literally made a list, here just look I need to get the right bread this time or (Y/N)'s gonna have my head." Shivering a bit remembering when he forgot the bread. Alphonse was scolded and given a 'I'm not mad just disappointed look' from Boo and that wasn't so nice.

"Okay listen here you pink fu-" Growling out an insult Seth's anger was paused by a man coming up to the two men. Alphonse turned his head where Seth was looking and glared slightly, confused.

"Can I help ya?" Asking the random man who walked up to the duo, Seth spoke first. Alphonse turned fully holding the shopping bag, looking down the man wondering why he looked familiar?....

"Hi, I was wondering if you were taking about (Y/N) (L/N)? by any chance?" Nervously questioning, the man looked at the two. His hands moving like he was washing them, this made the duo before him shoot a glace at each other.

"Why do you need to know?" Seth Demanded giving the man a face, Alphonse looked at the guys face a bit more. And then the pinkette went wide eyes and gasped.

"Your that fucking ex! The one that fuckin' cheated on 'em!" Spitting out loudly, Alphonse gripped the bag he was holding tighter. Seth looked at the taller man, processing his words then snapping his head to the man before them.

The blonde man before them flinched and looked around, trying to shush them since everyone could hear. But Seth opened his mouth and loudly exclaimed.

"Boy, don't try and shush me! How the hell did you find them huh?" Getting defensive Seth took a step forward. Remembering stories of how the cheating bastard fucked their mental health up. Their 5 year boyfriend form high school doggy styling their ex-best friend, in the bed in their SHARED apartment.

"I- facebook? their parent posted and I just wanted to talk-" Getting more nervous as random bystanders peaked into the aisle the menn were in. Some giving him glares since everyone knows the sweet baker down the street.

"LIKE HELL YOU ARE!" Hissing out Alphonse shouted and stepped forward leering over the shorter blonde in front of him. "If you go near my fucking Boo Ima snatch you up! What the hell you think gonna happen? Their gonna forgive ya?! Self center dick wad!"

Seth nodded along with his friend's words, honestly the 5'10' man wanted to grab him right now. But he thought of Boo, who wanted the boys to come back quickly so they could bake together.

"Come on Al, let's just go. This baster isn't even worth being made over. Plus, Sugar wants ta bake with us today, remember?" Huffing out an explanation, Seth turned and grabbed the flour they needed off the list. Then turned to where the 6'2" man was standing and gently touched his arm.

Alphonse looked down at the blonde cowering below him and rolled his eyes. Following Seth's lead to the broad isle grabbing the bread Boo wanted and going to check out.

"Look I really just wanna talk to them!" The annoying voice was back. Seth groaned as he watched the cashier, a young woman look at the blonde.

"Go away. We ain't gonna tell ya shit." Sternly saying Seth stood between the ex bastard and Alphonse. The pinkette chose to be quiet grabbing the money for the groceries and grabbing the bags.

"Please-" Desprate the ex tried to reach out and touch Seth. That's when Alphonse placed the bags down and shot his arm to the blonde.

"Listen here, I fucking WARNED you right?" Gripping the man's shirt Alphonse growled out. Looking down at the blonde cowering, Seth gripped his shoulder and got him to let go.

"Alphonse-" Whispering quietly trying to get him to calm down. Seth was interrupted by a gruff voice.

"Alphonse. Put that man down, I got the sheriff here. Let him deal with it." Turning everyone saw the old grocery store owner and the sheriff. Who glared at the blonde, taking a few steps he nodded to Al who let go.

"You two go run along to ya baker. I got this, I was informed that (Y/N) was worried about him comin' here." The old man put on a stern face looking at the ex. "Dylan Selick, your comin' with me boy."

After grabbing the bags and thanking the sheriff the boys wanted down the street. Seeing Boo in front of the bakery all worried and sighed seeing the two of them.

"I was wondering why it too you two so long-" Words cut short by them getting engulfed into a hug. Boo froze but then melted as Alphonse and Seth hugged then tightly, reassuring them.

"It's fine Sugar. Now let's ignore that shit and go bake some brownies!" Lighting the mood Seth ushered everyone inside to start baking.

[angxljxrdxn]

☆▪︎daily shenanigans with your husband, Toji Fushiguro▪︎☆

filipino au, reader x toji 🔞

an: i haven't seen any filipino smuts here in tumblr and twt so i am so glad to post one 🥺

You were laying down on your shared bed with your one and only, Toji Fushiguro. Nags-scroll ka lang sa facebook waiting for your husband to finish showering.

“Sarap mo talaga” he said trying to catch your attention which he succeeded in doing because you turned your head towards his direction.

As he finished using the bathroom, lumabas siya para kumuha ng damit at magpalit and as he did so. he noticed you laying down on the bed with your right leg flexing to the left exposing your thighs and ass.

“Ulol mo, gusto mo lang makaiscore eh” sabi mo habang tumatawa which provoked him to do so.

“Totoo naman eh nakikita ko yung bakat ng puke mo hanggang dito oh ang sarap kainin” he said as he was slowly approaching you.

You on the other hand was cringing at what he said then you replied “Tangina mo makakaisa ka na naman parang hindi mo ako kinantot kanina ah”. “Eh kanina pa yon tsaka dapat 24/7 kang dinidiligan” sabi niya habang tinatanggal ang kanyang tuwalya sa kanyang bewang

“Grabe oh tayong tayo na toh dahil sayo” he said while looking down at his dick and climbed the bed hovering above you.

“Pucha wala naman akong ginagawa. Ang bilis mong tayuan nakakaloka” sabi mo habang inaayos ang iyong pwesto sa ilalim niya.

“sa tuwing nakikita ko yang puke mo inisip ko lang kung gaano kasarap kantutin yan tsaka labasan sa loob mo” he said while reaching out for your pussy and tapping it which made you lightly squirm. "oh tignan mo gusto mo rin naman pala" habol niyang sabi.

You then rolled your eyes jokingly then said “sige papayag ako basta ako nasa taas”.

“sasakyan mo ako? sige ba tignan natin kung kakayanin mo” sabi niya while plopping beside you then laid down comfortably and then you removed your shorts and shirt leaving you with just your panty.

You sat on his lap then stared at his dick for a few seconds then decided to give him a hand job first.

“Fuck ang galing mo talaga humawak ng tite” he moaned at your actions. Skilled ka na sa mga ganitong bagay dahil lagi ninyo itong ginagawa.

Your right hand was gliding up and down his dick sending him shivers down his spine while your left hand was occasionally massaging your pussy.

Hindi naman ata makukumpleto ang isang handjob kung hindi chuchupain diba that’s why you quickly made your way down to suck him off.

When you were about to suck him off, Toji stopped you from doing so and carried you from your arms to sit you on top of his dick.

“Basang basa na nga puke mo hindi mo pa ipasok” he said vulgary to you while grabbing your hips then slamming your pussy down his dick. “T-tangina mo sandali lang” you moaned out as you tried to take him in fully.

“A-anlaki mo talaga…i am so fucking full” you said as you held on to his arms for dear life. As you get comfortable with his dick literally impaling you, you start to bounce slowly. You moan every time you bottom him out while he on the other hand is enjoying the view of you bouncing up and down.

"Fuck mas tinitigasan ako dahil sa boobs mo shit anlaki pa tapos tayong tayo pa utong mo” sabi niya while reaching out to your boobs for him to massage it.

Putangina ang galing niya talaga humawak ng dede kapag libog na libog, you thought to yourself pero wala ka ng magagawa ganyan talaga asawa mo eh.

As he was feeling your body, ikaw naman ay nagpapakahirap sakyan ang kanyang tite. Your clit is even hitting the base of his dick which made you squirt and let out the most pornographic moan you could ever release.

“S-shit shit shit” you cried out as juices from your dear pussy came out. He chuckled as you tried to control yourself from losing it but then you lost it when his fingers made contact with your clit.

“W-wait wag muna…’m sensitive” you said as you hold on to his wrist as you try to stop him from doing what he wants to do.

“Anong wag muna, first time mo lang toh nagawa” he said at oo totoo naman na first time mo lang magsquirt sa buong buhay mo pero he’s persistent as fuck kaya hinawakan niya parin ang puke mo to add pressure on your clit.

He followed your pussy as you started to go up and won to finish what you started.

You were a moaning mess on top of him as you bounced up and down his very big dick.

Tangina his girth is to die for talaga o baka yun ang papatay ata sayo ni hindi na nga gumagana utak mo kakasakay mo eh.

The only thing that’s going on inside your head is kung gaano siya kalaki at kung gaano ka sarap pinapatamaan ng ulo niya ang cervix mo. Malapit na kayong labasan kaya medyo bumabagal ang iyong galaw kaya’t si Toji nalang ang gagawa ng paraan para sa inyong dalawa.

“Don’t give up on me, pretty…kailangan ko ilabas tamod ko sa loob” he said as he lifted his hips up to meet your pussy.

As you both try to reach your climax, your pussy was pulsating signaling that a few more thrust and you are cumming which Toji knew and obliged. He met your thrusts halfway and held your hips to make sure the tip of his dick is really kissing your cervix

“Fuck fuck eto na lalabas na, babe” you said as you bounced up and down before cumming all over his cock and completely stopping from riding him.

“Paano naman ako kung titigil ka” he said which made you come to your senses and slowly lifted yourself up then slamming your hips down gradually increasing your speed. As you rode him for quite some time, he finally came inside you.

“Ang init ng tamod mo, babe” you said as you look at him straight on to his eyes. “Magulat ka na lang kung malamig yan” he said trying to make you laugh which he successfully did while caressing your thighs with his big hands.

You lifted yourself up, his dick sliding off you which made you feel empty for a few seconds before all of your cum seeped out from your pulsating hole. “Gago andaming tamod” he said as he reached out to your pussy then slipped his two fingers inside of you.

“Syempre hindi natin sasayangin yan kaya ibabalik natin” he said while smirking and fingering your pussy. His fingers were full of cum and pussy juices making it a lube for him at dahil don napadali ang pagfifinger niya sayo.

His fingers were so fat it could form a dick and the fact na it curls to reach your spots tangina. Lahat ng parte ng katawan niya malaki puta tama talaga na pinakasalan mo tong gagong toh.

“Shit p-pag ako nilabasan ulit” you said but he quickly replied with “edi labasan ka, mas maganda nga yon eh”.

He continued on fingering you which made you squirt and cum at the same time which he really found hot. “Tangina ang hot non gago tumayo ulit tite ko” he said looking at your pussy and slowly caressing your folds para ikalat ang tamod ninyong dalawa.

He sat up meeting your face then kissed you passionately. Oh tignan mo pati sa paghalik expert siya. Parang ganon ata talagaa kapag malibog.

His lips were attached to yours at talagang lasap na lasap niya ang iyong labi. His lips were so soft and tender kaya't natempt kang kagatin ito.

Your stared at him with you biting his lip, he said “pwede pa namang makaisa diba” then winked at you.

Mukhang hanggang madaling araw ata kayo sa kuwartong iyon.

[foldingfittedsheets]

Most of my student paintings sold off. I didn’t see the point of keeping them in a binder when I had pictures, so I posted them to a Facebook album and made all my school work Pay What You Want. Almost all the paintings found homes. There’s a few that didn’t. Like, I made a Memento Mori to a goat with a concrete goat skull, leaves, an apple, and an antler knife. I get it. Kinda weird. Not hallway art. I was a little surprised cause I thought it was a cool painting.

But the one I wasn’t surprised that didn’t find a home was from a lighting assignment. We took the lighting and mood from a movie scene and adapted it to a Disney still.

I chose a snippet from The Fall (Tw: suicidal ideation). The film is about a black and white era stunt actor who paralyzed himself on a stunt. He lures in a little girl with a broken arm with stories to try to manipulate her into stealing pills for him. The movie is honestly so visually stunning, and Lee Pace is one of my favs, and the ending is overall hopeful.

So the shot I picked is him in bed facing the little girl. He’s fully in shadow, but she’s framed by the doorway and a slanting light overhead to be in light.

And I overlaid that depression lighting over a painting of Roger from 101 Dalmatians.

Who would want to display suicidal Roger? No one. I get it.

[sturniozo]

Savage Love Part Twelve

Masterlist

My mouth feels dry as my eyes open. My blurry vision focuses and I see Matt sitting at the side of the bed I’m laid on. He holds my hand as he looks at me.

“How are you feeling?” He asks.

I suddenly remember everything and shoot up. “Get away from me!” I exclaim and I try to move but Matt keeps me still.

“Just let me explain everything to you.” He says as he holds me in place on the bed. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me against his chest. He holds me still with my back against his chest, one arm holding me against him pinning my arms to my die while his other hand covers my mouth. I struggle against him but to no avail.

“Shhh.” Matt shushes me and kisses the top of my head. “Just let me explain everything.” He says in a soft tone. I try to struggle but he holds me against him tightly.

“Baby your ex boyfriend isn’t who you think he is.” Matt starts. “When I first met you I knew I wanted you, wanted to be with you. So I did some research on you. I found where you went to school, where you work, it was all surface level research I swear. I wanted to know you for you, so I left everything else to our conversations we would have.”

Matt sighs and rubs his thumb over my cheek as his hand covers my mouth still. “But then I saw a photo on your Facebook page from 4 years ago. You with him, with Bennett Cassidy. Only he was younger than when I met him. Younger than when he became what he was. I learnt what he did to you through screenshots of messages he sent to friends and posted on his social pages. Through photos and confessions. Even when I knew him I knew he was a bad person, but to hurt such an amazing girl like you the way he did…”

Matt’s grip on me loosens. I could have a chance to run away, but I don’t. I lookup at Matt. “Who is- who was he?” I ask him.

“Bennett Cassidy was the leader of a drug cartel, one that sold and distributed hard drugs used mostly to drug unsuspecting women.” Matt let’s go of me fully and looks down at me. “I might have a drug cartel like him, but people have a choice in the consumption of the drugs I distribute. He distributed roofies, I give people an escape. Do you think I’m as bad a him?”

“You didn’t have to kill him.” I say in a soft tone.

“Do you think he hasn’t killed people?” Matt says with a laugh. “His body count almost as high as mine, dear. And I didn’t pull the trigger. I only gave the order.”

“It’s just as bad.”

“Y/n.” Matt sighs.

“Why was Kyler’s picture in the room?” I ask. Matt just stares at me. “I only just got fired, I only just told you. His picture is in there before you knew, why is it in there?” I ask again.

Matt shakes his head. “It’s not like that room is a hit list.”

“You wanted me to see the room.”

Matt just nods.

“Why?”

“I want you to know that I’m keeping you safe.”

“By killing people?”

“Just one. And I was going to kill him anyways, what he did to you just gave me all the more reason to.”

“You wanted me to know you killed Bennett.”

“I thought you wanted to know who I was. You keep asking my job, my life, I thought you wanted to know? You know, you’ve always known.”

“Matt!”

“I’m the lead of the New York Mafia. You’ve known for weeks. You just wanted me to say it.”

“Matt.” My voice gets quieter.

“I’d quit it all if it meant I get to keep you. Is that what you want?” He asks, his hand caressing my cheek. “Is it, doll?”

“Matt, I-“

“I promise I’ll always keep you safe.” He mumbles as he pulls me close to him. I lean my head against his chest and listen to his heartbeat.

We stay like this for a moment. I close my eyes and think. I don’t know why I’m staying right here in his arms voluntarily, he’s a murderer, a drug dealer, a psychopath. I should be running. I should be fighting against him. I should be kicking and screaming and calling the police.

Matt pulls away from me and looks down at me. “Do you understand now?” He asks. I nod and he smiles softly at me. “Good.” He kisses the top of my head and then rests his chin on my head.

I close my eyes again as we just it on the bed holding each other close. I listen to Matt’s calm heartbeat. Event through his whole explanation, the whole fight, Matt’s heart rate never increased or faltered. He stayed calm. Calm and collected as he explained himself.

“Matt?” I finally say, breaking the silence.

“Yeah doll?” He mumbles.

“You didn’t answer… why was Kyler’s photo in the room?”

“I’m not gonna kill him.”

“I didn’t ask that.”

Matt closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “He just seemed like the kind of guy to hit on you. I wanted to know as much about him as I could, to keep him from you.”

I nod. “Okay…” I whisper. I nuzzle my head into his chest more as he holds me close.

~

Matt drops me off at my apartment. He told me that there were no bugs or people watching or listening in on me in my apartment and he’s got someone standing by in case anyone does try to watch me.

I walk up the stairs in the back of the bookshop which leads straight to the door of my apartment. I walk in and set my boxes down on the floor.

I huff and go to my bedroom and flop on my bed. I groan from the initial discomfort. I have just gotten so used to Matt’s plush bed that my regular mattress feels stiff. But the familiarity sinks into comfort as I sigh happily and close my eyes.

I honestly have no idea how I’m gonna live anymore. Not in a depressing way, but in a I-just-got-fired-now-i-cant-pay-my-overpriced-rent way. My last paycheck won’t even be a full one, since I got fired half way through the pay period. That might cover this months rent, but nothing else. And what after that?

Matt suggested I just live with him, but I couldn’t do that. For multiple reasons.

1. He’s a mafia boss.

2. He’s a murderer

3. I’ve only known him for 2 weeks

4. He lives with his brothers

No, I have to get a new job. I could consult but there are no papers close by, the closest one is an hour away in New York. I’d have to move there to be able to afford more than just the gas bill with consultants pay, and even then the rent pricing in New York is crazy.

I groan as my head spins from all these thoughts. Being a journalist isn’t the only thing I could do, there’s a million other jobs in this small town alone.

I look up ‘Jobs near me’ on my phone and multiple options show up. As I’m scrolling Emma’s face appears on my screen for a call.

I answer the FaceTime and Emma immediately beams at me. “Guess what girl.” She says excitedly.

“What?” I ask as I sit up in my bed.

“I got it. I got it all. The whole article is written and approved by Kyler! And I put your pseudonym on it! He’s planning on rehiring you, he thinks you wrote it!”

“Wrote what?”

“The article about Matt, of course. What else dummy?”

I look at her confused. “What article about Matt?”

“The one proving he’s the lead of the Mafia!”

“Emma, I quit that.” I say, trying to keep my calm.

“You got fired-“

“I got fired because I quit the piece.”

“You shouldn’t have quit the piece, it was good piece. Kyler’s gonna publish it tomorrow and hire you back and-“

“No!” I exclaim

Emma looks shocked. “No? What why no?”

“I don’t want to expose Matt!”

“He’s a murderer, a drug lord!”

“How do you know all this?” I ask her.

“You never hung up.”

“What?”

“Last night, when you tried to run away, you didn’t hang up the phone. I heard everything.”

I gasp. “Emma, no, don’t publish that piece!”

“It’s too late, Kyler loves it!”

“Pull it!”

“Even if I wanted to, I can’t!”

“Emma! I’m not going to let you expose my boyfriend!”

“He’s only your boyfriend because you were using him for your job.” Emma laughs.

“it’s different now.”

“Oh god. Oh god, y/n don’t tell me you…”

“I love him, Emma.”

Tags: @stargirlsturniololover @sturniolobessed @eyelessdemon00 @sturnioloenthusiast @sturniolopookie @urmommysbathroom @qwertytit @whatever1021 @chrisfavoritepepsi @stramboli4life @sturniolosreads @timmyscomputer @iloveneilperry @chrisloyalgf @xxsadlovexx @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @nickmillersn1gf @ilovechrissturniolo1 @matthewsturnioloswifey

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

I’m Still Standing.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

author's note - this concept came into my head really randomly and it’s the most angsty thing i’ve ever written on this account, so i hope it’s good for you all!!

please understand that i’m not trying to portray harry’s fans as people who would laugh about scars, i made this up so it would fit the outlook for the story.

word count - 6.8k

in which, you and harry first met when you auditioned to be a member of his love band, since then, your relationship has only just got better, friends turned to best friends and best friends slowly morphed into lovers. it was definitely love at first sight. but in december of 2022, you were the victim of an accidental road injury, you were hit by a car. it took a long time for you to recover, your fiance tried to cancel the shows so that he could care for you but you didn't want him to miss anything, so whilst he toured oceania and asia, you stayed home. june, 2023 was when you thought you were ready to appear on stage again, but that all takes a turn for the worst when some fans make some nasty remarks, but harry's quick to remind you, that you're still standing better than you ever did.

trigger warnings - mentions of panic attacks and car accidents, mentions of scars and hospital terms, mentions of mental health and body dysmorphia.

You stand backstage, your fingers nervously strumming the strings of your guitar, trying to get it into tune. This audition for Harry Styles' tour band feels like the culmination of all your hard work and dedication. 

The stakes are high, and the nerves threaten to consume you.

You didn’t really know what you were doing there, your mother had recorded you playing your guitar in front of your dog Monty and had posted it on her facebook, loads of people saw it and that was when you got an email from Columbia Records requesting that you come in for an audition, apparently Mr. Styles was looking for someone to join his band for his 2018, Live On Tour, tour.

To say you were nervous would definitely be an understatement, your hands were shaking and you didn’t really know how to stop them from doing it.

Just as doubt starts to creep in, the sound of the door creaking open catches your attention. 

Your eyes go wide when you turn around and there he is, Harry Styles himself, leaning casually against the doorframe with that captivating smile on his face.

He was wearing a black loose fitted shirt, with flamingos adorned over the material, the buttons not fully done up so you could see the tips of his swallow tattoos peaking through, his legs were fitted with a pair of beige trousers and some yellow loafers attached to his feet.

He looked good.

"Hey there," he says in his velvety voice, his eyes twinkling with warmth. "You must be the talented guitarist I've been hearing so much about."

For some reason, your breath caught in your throat, resulting in you losing the ability to respond back to him.

Your heart skips a beat, and you struggle to find your voice. "Uh, yeah, that's me. I'm a big fan, by the way."

Way to embarrass yourself, (Y/N).

Harry chuckles, his laughter like music to your ears. "Well, I'm flattered. But remember, I'm just a guy with a few decent songs. No need to be nervous."

A few decent songs, he definitely needed to be humbled. His songs were like going to space, beautiful and rare, there was hardly any music like his nowadays.

His words instantly put you at ease, a wave of relief washing over you. You offer a shy smile and respond, "Thanks, Mr. Styles. I needed that."

He steps closer, his eyes fixated on your guitar. "Mind if I take a look?"

Harry Styles wanted to hold your guitar.

Harry Styles, heartthrob, wanted to hold your guitar, how could you ever say not to that.

Control yourself.

You nod and hand him the instrument, your fingers lightly brushing against his. Call it cliche, but a jolt of electricity shoots through you, and you can't help but blush. 

Harry strums a few chords, effortlessly coaxing a beautiful melody from the strings.

"Sounds fantastic," Harry remarks, returning the guitar to your waiting hands. "I think you're going to fit right in."

Your confidence begins to soar as Harry's charm wraps around you like a warm embrace. The audition becomes less daunting with every word he speaks, his encouragement laced with playful banter.

"So, do you always have this effect on musicians?" you tease, a twinkle in your eye.

Harry smirks, leaning in closer. "Only the ones who make my heart skip a beat."

Your breath once again caught, you made his heart skip a beat?

His words catch you off guard, and your cheeks flush with a mix of surprise and excitement. You try to maintain your composure, but deep down, you can't deny the flutter of anticipation building within you.

He was really good looking.

You didn’t even know that you were auditioning until the audition progressed, your fingers gliding effortlessly across the strings, the music resonating with every fiber of your being. Harry's presence fuels your performance, his voice blending seamlessly with your guitar, creating a harmonious masterpiece. It's as if you've been playing together for years.

Maybe that was how it was supposed to be.

In between your audition, Harry flashes you a sly grin and quips, "You know, if you keep playing like that, I might just fall head over heels for you."

You blushed once again.

Your heart skips a beat, and you laugh nervously, attempting to hide the blush that creeps up your neck. "I think I'd be okay with that."

Did you really just say that?

The air in the room crackles with a charged energy, and you find yourself lost in a dance of music and flirtation. Each note you play is a secret message, a longing that speaks louder than words. And in Harry's eyes, you catch glimpses of a shared desire.

By the time you reach the final chords, the room erupts in applause. Harry rises from his seat, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You were incredible," he says, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "I'd love for you to join the tour."

I’m sorry, what?!

You can hardly believe your ears. The moment you've been dreaming of is here. With a wide smile, you respond, "I'd be honored, Mr. Styles."

He reaches out, his hand finding yours, and pulls you into a warm embrace. As his arms encircle you, you can't help but notice the racing of your heart and the way his touch sends a surge of electricity through your veins. The world around you fades into the background, and all that exists in this moment is the two of you, entangled in a moment of undeniable connection.

Harry's voice, barely above a whisper, caresses your ear. "Welcome to the band, love."

You lean back slightly, looking into his eyes, a mixture of excitement and uncertainty swirling within you. The unspoken tension between you is palpable, and you find yourself wondering if Harry feels the same magnetic pull that you do.

Maybe you were just imagining it.

As you break from the embrace, a mischievous smile tugs at the corners of Harry's lips. "I must admit, there's a part of me that's relieved you're joining the band. I wouldn't want to miss out on the opportunity to get to know you better."

Your heart skips a beat for about the millionth time that day, the words hanging in the air, heavy with unspoken possibilities. A playful glint dances in his eyes, and you find yourself being drawn closer to him, your bodies now only inches apart.

"Getting to know you better sounds like a delightful prospect," you reply, your voice laced with a mixture of anticipation and curiosity.

Harry leans in, his voice a seductive murmur. "Maybe we could grab a drink after rehearsal? I'd love to hear more about the person behind that incredible talent."

A rush of warmth floods through you, and you nod eagerly. "That sounds perfect."  

That was just over three months ago.

So far, you were rehearsing for his first tour as a solo member and things had been going great. You had met Sarah, Mitch, Clare and Adam five days after your audition and instantly got along with the two of them, calling them your best friends within two weeks of knowing them.

As for Harry, things were definitely starting to get better with the two of you. If you seemed to be having a bad day, he would find a way to put a smile on your face. He was cute like that.

As you join the band and embark on rehearsals, Harry's presence continues to fill you with a sense of comfort and confidence. His playful banter and infectious laughter become the soundtrack to your journey together.

During breaks, you steal stolen glances, your eyes locking and holding for longer than necessary. The air brims with unspoken tension, each encounter tinged with the promise of something more.

One evening, after an intense rehearsal, Harry takes you aside, his eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and vulnerability. 

"I've been thinking about us, you know," he admits, his voice filled with honesty. "There's something between us, something I can't ignore."

You weren’t sure you could ignore it for much longer either.

Your heart pounds in your chest, your own feelings echoing his words. "I feel it too, Harry. It's like we've found a connection that's hard to put into words."

He steps closer, his hand reaching up to gently brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "Would it be too forward of me to say that I'm falling for you? That being around you makes everything feel right?"

No…never.

A smile tugs at your lips, your heart soaring with newfound courage. "It wouldn't be too forward at all, Harry. I'm falling for you too."

In that moment, the world around you fades away once again. It's just the two of you, standing in the quiet embrace of a shared revelation. And as your lips meet in a tender, passionate kiss, you know that this journey—this tour with Harry Styles—will be more than just a musical experience. It will be a love story for the ages, where the strings of your guitar intertwine with the strings of your hearts, creating a melody that will resonate long after the final notes have faded.

You had finally found the one.

Five years.

Five years you had been in a relationship with Harry and during those five years, the relationship between the two of you had done nothing but flourish.

On your anniversary in 2020, he proposed to you. He got down on one knee in your shared London house and there was no doubt that you were going to say yes.

You adored the man with every fiber of your body.

You find yourself sitting on the cosy couch in your shared hotel in Werchter, Belgium, a gentle warmth filling the room. Your fingers trace absent-minded patterns on the fabric of the blanket thrown over your lower body, keeping you warm as you let your mind wander, reflecting on the journey that has brought you to this very moment.

You cautiously cross the road, anticipation pulsating through your veins as you head towards the café to meet your boyfriend.  The air is crisp, carrying a hint of autumn's arrival, and the city buzzes with its usual energy.

The road was safe when you crossed, until it wasn’t.

In the midst of the bustling crowd, a danger lurks, unseen and unforgiving. 

A drunk driver, his senses impaired, careens towards you without warning. Time slows down, and your instincts kick in, desperately trying to avoid the inevitable collision.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you attempt to evade the oncoming car, but the impact is inevitable. 

Pain sears through your body as you're flung through the air, crashing onto the unforgiving pavement. The world spins, and darkness descends upon you like a heavy curtain.

Inside the café, Harry sits near the window, a cup of untouched coffee growing cold before him. As he waits, a knot of anxiety tightens in his stomach. Suddenly, the tranquility of the moment shatters, and his gaze is drawn to the horrific scene unfolding just outside.

That’s when he sees you.

Time slows to a torturous crawl as Harry's eyes widen in disbelief. He watches in helpless horror as the car strikes you, his heart pounding in his ears. With a mix of disbelief and raw emotion, he stumbles out of his seat, knocking over his chair in the process.

His voice trembles as he shouts your name, the desperation and anguish evident in his cries. "No! Oh God, no! Somebody help! Call an ambulance!"

Passersby freeze, their eyes widening in shock as they witness the aftermath of the accident. Harry's voice breaks, the weight of the situation crashing down upon him. He drops to his knees beside your motionless body, trembling fingers reaching out to touch your cold skin.

Tears blur his vision as he cradles your face, his voice choked with pain. "Please, wake up…(Y/N)... Don't leave me like this, m’angel… I can't lose you."

Amidst the chaos, someone steps forward, dialing emergency services and relaying the dire situation. The sound of sirens grows closer, a faint glimmer of hope in the midst of despair.

As paramedics arrive on the scene, Harry is forced to release his grip on you, not without giving a fight, another paramedic holds him back, running soft circles onto him as his hands shake uncontrollably. He watches, a mix of fear and agony etched on his face, as they work to stabilize your fragile form.

His heart shatters with each passing second that lacks a sign of life. He whispers desperate prayers into the void, his voice trembling with emotion. "Please, don't take her away from me...I can’t…I can't live without….her…"

Finally, a flicker of movement, a gasp of breath escapes your lips. Harry's eyes widen in disbelief, his heart surging with a renewed sense of hope. "She's breathing…she’s breathing, you saw that…right?!" he exclaims, his voice filled with equal parts relief and disbelief.

As the paramedics prepare to transport you to the hospital, Harry is forced to release his grip on your hand, his gaze filled with a mix of longing and determination. 

"I'll be right behind you," he promises, his voice steady with resolve.

Alone in the hospital waiting room, Harry paces anxiously, his mind clouded with thoughts of what could have been lost. He replays the accident over and over in his mind, tormented by the what-ifs that haunt him.

He had been waiting just over an hour and half for someone to come and talk to him. Give him an update on what was going on with you.

Hours stretch into an agonizing eternity as he clings to the faint hope that you will recover. The sterile hospital walls offer no solace, and he finds himself retracing the steps that led you both to this point, questioning the fragility of life and the unpredictable turns it can take.

Finally, a weary doctor emerges from behind the double doors, his expression a mix of weariness and cautious optimism. Harry's heart lurches in his chest as he rushes towards the doctor, desperation etched on his face.

"How is she? Is she going to be alright?" Harry's voice trembles with a mix of fear and longing, his hands clenched into tight fists.

You needed to be okay.

The doctor meets Harry's gaze, his eyes filled with compassion. "She's stable now. It was a close call, but she's a fighter. She sustained some serious injuries, but we're doing everything we can to help her recover."

Relief washes over Harry, but it's quickly replaced by a wave of guilt. He clenches his jaw, his voice strained. "I should have been there to protect her. I should have... I should have done something."

The doctor places a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. "Accidents happen, and it's not your fault. What matters now is supporting her through her recovery."

Harry nods, a mixture of determination and guilt playing across his features. "I'll be there for her. Every step of the way."

Days blend into nights as Harry sits vigil by your bedside, his fingers tracing the contours of your hand, desperate for any sign of improvement. The beeping machines and sterile hospital environment become your temporary reality, a stark contrast to the vibrant world you both once knew.

He called his mother about what happened to you and she and Gemma took the first flight to Los Angeles, so they could support not only you but him as well.

They forced him to go home and change his clothes, promising to call him if there was any news.

Sarah, Clare, Mitch, Adam and Jeff and Glenne were by your bedside as much as they could be but with there busy schedules it made it harder for them to be there.

In moments of silence, Harry finds solace in sharing memories of your love and laughter, his voice filled with a mix of tenderness and longing. He whispers words of encouragement and love, as if the sheer force of his devotion could bring you back to consciousness.

And then, one day, a miracle unfolds. Your eyes flutter open, and for a moment, confusion clouds your gaze. But as you take in the sight of Harry, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, recognition dawns, and a feeble smile graces your lips.

"I'm here, love. You're going to be okay," Harry whispers, his voice laced with relief. He brushes a gentle hand against your cheek, his touch a testament to his unwavering love and devotion.

A month into your recovery, was when Harry finally realised just how bad the whole ordeal was affecting you.

Harry arrives home from grocery shopping, his arms laden with bags filled with fresh produce and essentials. He enters the bedroom, expecting to find you in your usual spot, engrossed in a book or working on a project. But what he sees stops him in his tracks.

There you sit, in your wheelchair, wearing nothing but a sports bra and shorts. Your eyes are fixed on the floor-length mirror before you, your gaze filled with a mix of vulnerability and frustration. Harry's heart skips a beat at the sight, his instinct to protect and comfort you kicking into high gear.

His eyes never leave your form in the mirror. With a deep breath, he approaches you, his voice soft and filled with love. "Hey, beautiful. What's on your mind?"

You startle at his voice, a mixture of embarrassment and sadness crossing your face. "Harry, look at me. I can't stand on my own. I feel so... broken."

You were struggling, really fucking struggling.

Harry kneels down beside you, his hands gently grasping yours. His gaze meets yours in the mirror, his voice filled with determination. "But look at everything you've overcome. You've faced unimaginable challenges, and yet here you are, still standing."

Tears well up in your eyes, a mixture of gratitude and self-doubt coursing through your veins. "I don't always feel strong, Harry. Sometimes, I feel defeated by my own body."

Harry's thumb strokes the back of your hand in a soothing motion. "I know it's not easy, and it's okay to have moments of doubt. But remember, you're not defined by what you can or can't do physically. Your strength shines through in countless other ways."

His words resonate within you, a glimmer of hope flickering in the depths of your soul. You take a deep breath, allowing his words to wash over you. "I guess... I just miss feeling independent, like I used to."

Harry's eyes never leave yours, his voice filled with unwavering support. "You are independent, love. It may look different now, but that doesn't diminish your spirit or your worth. Remember the chorus of that song by Elton John? 'I'm still standing, yeah yeah yeah.'"

That was the song that was getting you through the hard days, the lyrics of the song reminded you that even though you had been through hell and back, you were in fact still standing.

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as the lyrics echo in your mind. You meet Harry's gaze, a flicker of determination in your eyes. "You're right. I'm still standing, and I won't let this define me."

Harry's face lights up with pride, his voice brimming with admiration. "That's my girl. Together, we'll face anything that comes our way. We'll rewrite the rules and show the world just how resilient we are."

You lean into him, finding solace in his embrace. In his arms, you feel a renewed sense of strength and acceptance. With Harry by your side, you know that you'll navigate this journey together, overcoming obstacles with unwavering love and unwavering determination.

As the echoes of Elton John's lyrics fade into the air, you realize that standing on your own two feet is not just about physical ability. It's about resilience, love, and the unwavering spirit that resides within. And together, you and Harry are an unbreakable force, ready to face any challenge that comes your way, still standing.

Memories of the accident resurface, the one that left you with a broken leg, a few broken ribs, and scars that tell a story of resilience and strength. The pain you endured during those days in the hospital, the grueling physical therapy sessions, and the long road to recovery—all of it has shaped you into the person you are today.

The accident left you with a lot of scars and sometimes, you didn’t like how they were on your body, you didn’t want them, you shouldn’t have had them in the first place had it not been for the drunk driver that had struck you.

One time, Harry had caught you sitting in the wheelchair the hospital provided you with and was sitting in front of the floor length mirror, eyes wet and feeling disgusted with the way your body now looked.

Lost in your thoughts, you feel a comforting presence beside you. Your fiancé, the person who has been your rock throughout this entire journey, sits down, his eyes filled with love and concern.

"What's on your mind, love?" Harry asks gently, their voice laced with a mixture of tenderness and curiosity.

You take a deep breath, gathering the courage to share your thoughts. "I've been thinking a lot about everything that's happened, about how far I've come since the accident. The fear I had of losing my ability to play the guitar, to perform on stage, has slowly transformed into a burning desire to reclaim what I love."

Your fiancé listens intently, their hand finding yours, providing a comforting anchor in the depths of your vulnerability.

"I think I'm ready," you continue, your voice filled with determination. "I'm ready to join you back on tour as your guitarist. I want to step back into the spotlight, to feel the exhilaration of playing for a crowd again."

A flicker of excitement dances in their eyes as they take in your words. "Are you sure, love? I mean, I've seen your strength and resilience, but I want to make sure you're ready for the demands and challenges of touring."

You had thought it over. So many times, you kissed touring with him and not being on stage with him in what felt like forever, you just wanted a little bit or norm back in your life.

You smile, your gaze meeting theirs. "I am sure. The accident made me realize that life is too short to let fear hold me back. I want to embrace every opportunity that comes my way, and being on stage with you is the greatest opportunity of all."

Your fiancé's face lights up with a mixture of pride and love. "I've always believed in you, in your talent and your unwavering spirit. I can't express how happy I am to hear you say this."

Their words fill your heart with warmth, and you lean in, your forehead resting against theirs. "I couldn't have done it without your love and support. You've been my rock, my inspiration. And now, it's time for us to conquer the stage together."

24th June, 2023.

The day you would be back on stage, and reclaiming your spot next to Mitch as Harry’s guitarists.

As you stand before the mirror in the dressing room, your heart pounds with a mix of excitement and apprehension. It's been seven long months since the accident, the incident that left you scarred physically and emotionally. But tonight, you're stepping back onto the stage alongside your fiancé, the incredibly talented man that held your heart captive.

You peel off your clothes, revealing the remnants of the past—a tapestry of scars that litter your body. Each mark tells a story, a chapter of pain and healing. Your fingers trace the scars delicately, memories flooding back with each touch.

Your fingertips glide over the long, jagged scar on your stomach, a reminder of the surgery that saved your life. It stretches across your abdomen, a visible testament to the fragility of existence. You can still recall the sterile scent of the hospital, the sensation of being under anaesthesia, and the sound of the surgeon's voice assuring you that everything would be alright.

As you trace the path of the scar, tears well up in your eyes. The emotions overwhelm you—the fear, the vulnerability, the gratitude for being alive. You hastily wipe away the tears, refusing to let them consume you. You don't want Harry to see you like this—fragile, still grappling with the remnants of the accident.

Taking a deep breath, you collect yourself and begin to change into the performance outfit meticulously chosen for tonight's show. With each article of clothing, you shed the emotional weight and don a cloak of resilience.

But it's not just the scar on your stomach that serves as a reminder. Your fingers move upward, skimming over the faint marks on your chest. They are the remnants of broken ribs, the physical proof of the impact that threatened to shatter your entire being.

As your fingers dance across the scars, a mixture of emotions swirls within you. You remember the excruciating pain that radiated through your chest, making each breath a struggle. The nights spent gasping for air, wondering if you would ever be able to play guitar again. And yet, here you are, on the verge of reclaiming that stage.

When you finally emerge from the room, you plaster a smile on your face, determined to project confidence. Harry turns to you, his eyes lighting up as he takes in your appearance.

"Hey, love, you look absolutely stunning!" he exclaims, wrapping you in a warm embrace.

You glanced down at what you were wearing, nodding softly. You had decided to wear short sleeves tonight due to the humidity of the Belgian air and had gotten Elin and Madi to cover up the scars on your arms with foundation, if you had to get through this performance tonight without a hitch, you needed to make sure the fans didn’t see the state of your arms.

It wasn’t second nature to the fans and the world that you had been the victim of a car accident, paps had eaten the story up and it wasn’t long before the world were all feeling sorry for you, and telling you ‘get well soon.’

It wasn’t second nature that the fans knew you and Harry were in a relationship. They were happy for him, some fans weren’t, some were bitter but the majority were kind hearted.

The fans knew not to expect you to be on stage for a while, they liked your replacement , you just hoped they didn’t resent you for reclaiming your spot.

"Thank you," you reply, your voice tinged with a hint of nerves. "I'm so excited to perform with you again, sweet boy. It's been too long."

Harry nods, his eyes filled with adoration. "I've missed having you by my side on stage, baby. Tonight is going to be incredible."

When you first walked onto the stage with the rest of the band, the crowd cheered, happy to see you back.

You wanted to perform at Wembley when he was there but the 90,000 people just made your nerves too hard to get rid of.

It had gotten to the part of the show where Harry introduced the band helping him perform tonight.

The crowd erupts into thunderous applause, their cheers blending with the pounding of your heart.

Harry steps forward, his charm radiating as he takes hold of the microphone. "Thank you all so much!" he exclaims, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. "Tonight has been incredible, and I want to take a moment to introduce you to the extraordinary people who make this show possible."

The spotlight shifts, illuminating each member of the band in turn as Harry introduces them, acknowledging their talent and contributions. The crowd roars with approval, showing their love and appreciation for the musicians who have taken them on this unforgettable journey.

"And last, but certainly not least," Harry says, his eyes glimmering with affection as he turns toward you, "I want to welcome someone very special back to the stage tonight. Please give a round of applause for my incredible fiancée, who's been through so much and is now here, shining brighter than ever. Welcome back, (Y/N)!"

The crowd erupts into thunderous applause once again, their cheers echoing throughout the venue. The sound washes over you, filling you with warmth and a renewed sense of purpose. Harry walks over to you, his smile radiant as he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek.

"I'm so proud of you, love," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the roaring crowd. "You're incredible."

Touched by his words and the overwhelming support of the crowd, you turn to face the audience, a beaming smile adorning your face. You raise a hand in gratitude, acknowledging their cheers and the immense love they've shown.

The performance took a turn for the worst when Harry was performing Matilda.

As Harry takes the centre stage, his voice resonates through the venue, captivating the crowd with his heartfelt rendition of "Matilda." You stand beside him, shoulder to shoulder with Sarah, Madi, and Elin, proud to be part of his performance.

However, as the heat intensifies under the stage lights, the foundation covering the scars on your arms begins to melt away, slowly revealing the marks beneath. Unbeknownst to you, a group of fans standing in the front row notices the scars and begins to snicker and laugh, their insensitivity cutting through the air.

Caught off guard, you glance down at your arms, now exposed for all to see. Shame washes over you, accompanied by a deep sense of vulnerability. The laughter echoes in your ears, a cruel reminder of the pain you carry on a daily basis.

The song concludes, and as you go to step back, picking up your guitar, tears well up in your eyes. The weight of their laughter presses heavily on your heart, and without a second thought, you bolt offstage, seeking solace in the privacy of the dressing room.

You stumble through the corridors, your vision blurred by tears. Jeff, who was standing on the side stage, attempted to touch your arm and see if he could do anything but you bolted straight past him, too upset to even attempt to speak.

Finally, you reach the dressing room, the door becoming a barrier between you and the outside world. You lock it behind you, the sound of the latch giving you a brief sense of security.

Collapsing onto a chaise lounge, sobs wrack your body as you struggle to catch your breath. The pain of their laughter reverberates through you, and the scars that you've worked so hard to embrace now feel like glaring flaws. In this moment of despair, you feel utterly alone.

Through your tear-stained face, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. The scars etched on your arms serve as a painful reminder of the journey you've travelled—a journey that has tested your resilience and strength. But at this moment, they seem to mock you, amplifying your vulnerability.

You don’t know how long you were sitting there.

But the panic that has gripped your chest refuses to subside, and the air feels thin, suffocating.

Amidst your distress, you hear Harry's desperate pleas from the other side of the door, his voice filled with concern and love.

"Please, love," he implores, his voice cracking. "Let me in. I need to be with you. I can't bear to see you like this."

You find it difficult to think, your mind clouded by fear and self-doubt. Harry's words echo in your ears, but a part of you hesitates, questioning whether you should expose him to your vulnerable state.

Yet, Harry persists, his voice growing more desperate with each passing moment.

"Please, just open the door," he pleads again. "I'll do anything to make this better. Just let me in."

As the minutes stretch on, your panic intensifies. The room feels smaller, the air heavier, and you begin to scratch at your arms, hoping to erase the scars that have become a constant reminder of your pain. The act is born out of frustration, a desperate attempt to regain control over your emotions.

But the more you scratch, the more the scars stand out against your skin, marking the battles you've fought and the strength you've shown. The pain intensifies, both physical and emotional, and your nails dig deeper into your flesh.

Finally, Harry's voice breaks through the chaos in your mind.

"Love, please," he pleads once more. "I can't stand being separated from you like this. Please, open the door."

His words penetrate your fog of panic, stirring a flicker of clarity within you. You realise that shutting him out would only deepen the isolation you feel. With trembling hands, you reach for the lock, slowly turning it until the latch clicks, allowing Harry to step into the room.

Harry rushes toward you, his eyes wide with worry, and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. Your breath hitches as he embraces you, his warmth and steady heartbeat serving as an anchor amidst the storm raging inside you.

But as the panic continues to surge, your scratching becomes more frantic, fueled by the desperation to rid yourself of the scars. Harry's eyes widen as he notices your self-destructive actions, his heart aching at the sight.

"Stop, love," Harry pleads, his voice filled with a mix of concern and determination. He gently grasps your hands, restraining them from causing further harm. "Please, you don't need to do this. Your scars don't define you. They are a testament to your strength and resilience."

Tears stream down your face as you struggle to find your voice amidst the overwhelming emotions.

"Harry," you manage to whisper, your voice trembling, "the fans... they laughed at me. I feel so exposed, so broken."

Harry's hold on you tightens, his voice filled with unwavering support. "Love, never forget what Elton John said in 'I'm Still Standing.' 'I'm still standing after all this time.' We've faced adversity together, and we've triumphed. We won't let their laughter dim your light."

His words wash over you, reminding you of the battles you've fought, the hurdles you've overcome. In that moment, you realise that their laughter, though painful, is a reflection of their ignorance, not your worth.

As Harry's arms enfold you, a newfound resolve begins to take hold. You slowly cease

Your frantic scratching, your nails no longer leaving trails of desperation on your skin. Instead, you allow Harry's touch to calm you, to remind you that you are not alone in this struggle.

As you gradually regain control of your breath, Harry's soothing voice fills the room once again. "You are beautiful, inside and out," he assures you. "Those scars are a part of your journey, a testament to the strength that resides within you. They are not something to be ashamed of."

With each word, the weight of the fans' laughter begins to lift, replaced by a growing sense of self-acceptance. You realise that their cruel taunts are not a reflection of your worth but a testament to their own insecurities and ignorance.

In that moment of revelation, you look into Harry's eyes, finding solace in his unwavering gaze. He pulls you closer, his embrace a shield against the world's judgments.

"You are loved," he whispers, his voice filled with conviction. "By me, by your fans, by all those who see the incredible person you are."

After the storm of emotions, Harry guides you to rest your head on his lap, finding comfort in his presence. He senses your need for warmth and reaches for a soft blanket that carries his familiar scent. As he carefully drapes it over your body, you feel an instant sense of security, as if his love and protection have enveloped you.

Harry pulls out his phone, his brow furrowed with concern. He dials Jeff's number, his voice steady but laced with an undertone of worry.

"Jeff, mate," he begins, "I need to talk to you. We can't continue with the show right now. (Y/N)s head is in a bad place, and she needs me here with her."

You hated letting the fans down as much as Harry did, but right now, you needed him, you needed him more than anything right now.

As he speaks, his free hand finds its way to your hair, his fingers gently running through the strands. The soothing motion sends waves of comfort through your body, easing the tension that had gripped your soul.

There's a brief pause as Jeff responds on the other end of the line. Harry's voice grows firmer as he continues, his protective instincts kicking in. "I know, Jeff, but she's my priority. We can't push her right now. She needs time and space to heal. I hope you understand."

You feel the weight of his determination, his unwavering commitment to your well-being. His words, spoken with conviction, serve as a reminder that you are not alone in this battle.

As the conversation with Jeff continues, your body begins to relax, the exhaustion of the emotional rollercoaster setting in. Harry's touch and his voice lull you into a state of tranquillity, your eyelids growing heavy.

You listen to Harry's voice, a mix of concern and reassurance, as he explains the situation to Jeff. The sound of his voice becomes a soothing melody, guiding you towards much-needed rest. The world outside the dressing room fades away, and in that moment, it's just you and Harry, wrapped in a cocoon of love and understanding.

With Harry's presence anchoring you,drifting you into a peaceful slumber, your mind dances on the edge of consciousness. Harry's comforting presence lingers, filling the room with a sense of love and security. In the hazy realm between wakefulness and dreams, you hear his soft voice whispering.

"I love you," Harry murmurs, his words like a gentle caress against your skin. His declaration of love resonates deep within your heart, a reminder that you are cherished and adored.

In the quiet of the room, Harry's fingers trace the scars on your forearm from when you hit the ground and the skin collided with the concrete of the floor, resulting in a skin graft on both arms, with delicate reverence.

His touch is tender, his love evident in every stroke. With each pass of his fingers, you feel a mixture of vulnerability and acceptance, knowing that he sees beyond the scars and embraces every part of you.

Touched by his gesture, you shift slightly, gazing up at him through half-closed eyes. The love shining in his eyes mirrors the love you hold in your heart.

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips, and in a soft voice filled with gratitude, you whisper, "I love you too, Harry."

His lips curve into a gentle smile, and without hesitation, he leans down to press a loving kiss against the scars on your arms. The warmth of his lips against your skin sends a rush of emotions cascading through your veins—a blend of love, acceptance, and healing.

In that tender moment, you realise that Harry's love is not conditional. It extends far beyond the physical, embracing the entirety of who you are—scars and all. With his unwavering support, you find the strength to embrace your own journey, to let go of the pain inflicted by others' judgement.

As Harry's lips leave a trail of love and reassurance upon your scars, you feel a renewed sense of self-acceptance. You understand that love has the power to heal, to transcend the wounds of the past. With each kiss, Harry affirms that you are worthy of love and that your scars are a testament to your strength.

In the warmth of his embrace, you feel a newfound sense of peace settle within you. The doubts and insecurities that plagued your mind are replaced with a quiet confidence, knowing that you are loved unconditionally.

One thing was for sure though.

Just like the legend that is Elton John Said:

I’m Still Standing.

In fact you were standing better than you ever had, with the support of friends and family and the one man you don’t think you could ever stop loving.

You were starting to look like a true survivor, and not so much a little kid when you got overwhelmed looking at the scars on your arms from the impact of the accident.

“I’m Still Standing…” you whispered , voice slightly scratchy.

Harry smiled, letting out a small sniffle, “— yeah you are baby…yeah you are.”