#even the algorithm knew

[calycanthussy]

I’m just going to leave this here

[whumpuary]

i made a whumpuary playlist last year where i picked songs that have the prompts as titles and it was fun so heres one for this january

it's just about the titles so the lyrics might not fit at all, but that could be good for a challenge or inspiration, so feel free to use it if you want! (or just to find new songs, i tried to put in a variety of genres)

[megapotion]

I wanna know how tumblr advertising works bc mine have shifted from “hunting game demonstrating very graphically wolves being shot” to “there are hidden cameras everywhere!! Are you scared?? Here’s an app to find them” and I just think that maybe there’s something nefarious going on in their targeting

[lunafresas]

no one is asking and yet i am sharing. such is the way

[navree]

no longer gonna have to see against my will absolutely dogshit dragon show takes that are the absolute pits of misogyny, racism, homophobia, classism, and inability to celebrate fact from fiction for at least two more years now

[spearxwind]

Oh also sorry for making so many text posts today but ive been keeping tabs on the illu/minaughtii situation and man it is INSANE

[kalm1aa]

friendly reminder: if you saw something on the internet that doesn't correlate with real life in any way and it made you upset, don't interact with it. don't reply, don't share. just don't. it's literally that simple. block the tag, blacklist the op. touch some grass. dear lord

[constelationprize]

That's it. I'm taking the "it's easier to remain heterosexual" line away from all of you until you learn how to behave.

[thesaintelectric]

tiktok spoiler etiquette is so bad omg. picture of [character] dead as fuck on the ground and a caption (not even a tag ??) saying spoiler. girl we all saw that & the game isn't even out yet!!

[sixaustralia]

I am this 🤏 close to falling headfirst into Formula 1 somebody stop me

[sysig]

Important thing to note: If you want to look up puppers gently nomming each other’s noses, please use the keyphrase “Muzzle Grab” because “Dog Nose Bite” is very upsetting

[fwoosheye]

Good grief if you're younger than Minecraft you shouldn't even have any social media yet. Y'all should be out there and develop social skills and learn how to interact with people irl and stuff. Internet manners ≠ irl manners

imagining a ten year old seeing this tweet and going “damn… i can’t retweet it” before walking away sadly and kicking a can

[never-quite-buried]

Why tiktok is more than a dance trend app.

And my own thoughts…

I’ve struggled with feelings of helplessness through the genocide in Gaza but tiktok has given us hope in the dark times. Through sounds and filters even those of us who were struggling financially ourselves were able to help. Watching videos all the way through to get them their lil payout, using sounds and streaming songs, playing with filters, it all accumulated to real tangible aid. When tiktok shop rolled out it became almost annoyingly omnipresent but activists found a way to make it work for themselves. Content on Gaza was not getting the reach it had been so they utilized the algorithim and used shop posts to get their message out to a wider audience as shop videos are given more push. They would advertise Palestinian owned businesses to generate larger cashflows to affected families and then donate their sponsorship money to charities delivering aid on the ground while giving updates on the crisis and other resources to help.

And they are ripping that support network away because they do not like how we are speaking or what we do when we assemble together. Through Operation Olive Branch and the TikTok intiative Pass The Hat i saw gfms that were stagnant be filled within a week or less, most of them well over 100k+ a piece. And when they met their goals the creators sponsored a new family and fundraised for them until that one was full. MILLIONS were raised for evacuation funds through tiktok.

We are STILL fundraising for them and the US gov is cutting us off BECAUSE OF THIS. AIPAC lobbyists were caught on hot mics saying tiktok needed to go because of our sympathy for the Palestinians. This ban, should it go through, will be inextricably tied to the Palestinian genocide in our history books.

[notguccienoughforthis]

I have lilr not interacted with a single gotdamn Star Wars post on this site so why does tumblr think I need to be bombarded with Star Wars content baby I love straight people’s anime but trust that’s not for me!!! Show me things I’m into!!! Hello!!!

[savi0rr]

more vik w wife scenarios plsss 🙏🙏

Loving Wife .ᐟ

Viktor x Wife! Fem! Reader

In which, Viktor makes it a point to visit his loving wife. Even if it means that he's being followed.

a/n: you better like this or else anon.

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

Viktor's crutch echoed softly against the cobblestones of the quiet streets of Piltover, the rhythmic sound a stark contrast to the stillness of the midnight hour. Typically, this time would find him immersed in the dimly-lit confines of the lab at the Academia, conducting experiments or poring over complex algorithms. Yet tonight, an inexplicable urge pulled him towards home—towards you. He let out a weary sigh as he fumbled with the keys, his fingers trembling slightly as he unlocked the front door of your townhouse. Stepping inside, he was greeted by a rush of familiar warmth and the comforting scents that reminded him of you.

Just outside, hidden in the shadows, Jayce peered cautiously around a street corner. “Damn it… where did he go?” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. A step behind him, Mel huffed in frustration, her keen eyes scanning the dimly illuminated area for any sign of Viktor. It was then she spotted him standing at your doorstep. Without thinking, she swiftly covered Jayce's mouth with her hand. “Will you keep it down?” she muttered, her voice terse and low as she narrowed her eyes at him. “I think it's his wife's house,” Jayce replied in a hushed tone, inching closer and using the shadows to conceal his movements. Mel rolled her eyes, a mixture of irritation and curiosity, and followed him in silence.

Inside the townhouse, Viktor stepped into the darkened entrance, closing the door quietly behind him and letting out a relieved sigh. Though the Academia provided him with certain comforts—his own room, the latest equipment, and the thrill of innovation—tonight his heart tugged him toward the simplicity of being home with you. The very thought of you had a magnetic pull that often made him reconsider the sacrifices he made for his work. A part of him wanted to unite his personal and professional lives, but he feared that the mere presence of your warmth would distract him from his endeavors.

He moved through the familiar hallway, each step sending a comforting wave of nostalgia through him. As he pushed open the bedroom door, he was greeted by the sight of your sleeping figure, illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains. His heart softened at the sight, a warmth blossoming in his chest. He knew it was unwise to show up unannounced, that you preferred predictability, yet the very idea of being scolded in the morning felt trivial in comparison to the joy of simply being close to you. Losing himself in the moment, he placed his crutch aside near the bed and crawled carefully into the sheets beside you, making sure not to disturb your slumber.

Meanwhile, just outside the window, Jayce and Mel crouched low, their eyes straining against the darkness as they tried to glimpse what was unfolding inside. With a huff of annoyance, Mel pulled away from the window, crossing her arms over her chest in disbelief. “I can’t believe we’re stalking them,” she sighed, shaking her head in exasperation. “I just wanted to confirm what I saw!” Jayce shot back, glancing quickly at Mel. He tilted his head slightly, his curiosity piqued. “Besides, you were the one who insisted we investigate this.” With a reluctant sigh, Mel shook her head, still feeling the stirrings of frustration. “Let’s just head back to the Academia,” she suggested a note of defeat evident in her voice.

Back in the safety of your bedroom, Viktor lay on his back, careful not to disturb you, but unable to take his eyes off your peaceful form. The gentle rise and fall of your chest soothed him, and yet, he held back, overcome by a rush of emotions that twisted within him. Just as he began to relax, you stirred, the softness of your voice breaking the stillness. “Viktor? Dear?” Your sleepy tone wrapped around him like a warm blanket. He felt a spark of anxiety as he realized you had awakened, instinctively bracing for any discontent you might express. 

Rubbing your eyes, you slowly turned to face him, a smile spreading across your face as recognition dawned. “Ah—I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Viktor asked quietly, turning his head towards you, his voice barely above a whisper. You merely shook your head, still feeling the remnants of sleep. “No, I could feel you a mile away,” you muttered playfully, shrugging as you inched closer to him, your movements slow and relaxed. Viktor stayed silent, his heart racing as he savored the proximity, feeling an urge to reach out, yet hesitant to do so.

“I just… needed to see you,” he confessed, allowing vulnerability to seep into his voice. It wasn’t that he saw himself as clingy, but when he spent too much time away, he felt a palpable emptiness in his chest that only your presence could fill. A soft giggle escaped your lips, lightening the mood as you shook your head in a teasing manner. “You’re welcome here anytime,” you murmured sweetly, your fingers tracing along his arm in a tender gesture. “You are my husband, no?” The teasing lilt in your tone sent a shiver down his spine as you leaned in closer, your breath warm against his skin. 

Viktor flinched slightly at your sudden touch, a mix of surprise and delight fluttering within him. “I suppose I am,” he grumbled good-naturedly, unable to suppress a smile as he shook his head, surrendering himself to the moment.

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

Back at the Academia, amidst the clutter of Viktor’s lab, Jayce and Mel continued their search. Papers were scattered across the desk, papers and blueprints littered carelessly. “What exactly are we searching for?” Mel asked, glancing at the array of items surrounding them, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Something that proves he does have a wife,” Jayce replied resolutely, rummaging through drawers with purpose. Mel rolled her eyes at the absurdity of the situation.

[etheraltides]

Of Tears and Triumphs

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summarize: A quiet morning at the Cameron estate becomes a turning point as the reader grapples with anxiety and a relapse in her eating disorder journey . Rafe, noticing the distress, offers comfort and support, reminding her that nothing is ever lost.

Warning(s): Eating disorders (compulsive eating), body dysmorphia, anxiety, emotional distress (shame, guilt), mental health struggles (depression, self-image issues), substance abuse (reference to past drug use).

A/N: To anyone reading this who is struggling right now, I want you to know that you are not alone. It's okay to feel lost, to feel overwhelmed, and to not have everything figured out. Healing is a journey, and it doesn’t happen overnight. Be kind to yourself, even when it feels impossible. You are so much more than your struggles.

Remember, reaching out for help is a sign of strength, not weakness. There are people – therapists, counselors, loved ones – who can support you through this. You don't have to face it alone, and you deserve to find the peace and healing that’s waiting for you. Please, take the first step towards getting the help you deserve. You are worth it. 💙

The sun had just begun to creep over the horizon, casting a gentle, golden glow over the Cameron estate. Everything was deceptively perfect: the ocean's rhythmic crashing in the distance, the birds that chirped from the tree canopies, and the soft rustle of leaves carried by the morning breeze. Yet beneath this serene surface, a storm brewed in your chest.

You sat on the edge of the bed, legs folded underneath you, the light duvet twisted in your restless fingers. Rafe's side of the bed was empty, the indentation of his head still fresh on the pillow. He'd gone out for an early surf with Kelce and Topper, leaving you alone with your thoughts – a dangerous place to be.

The room felt stifling, the silence pressing into your ears like cotton. You glanced at the old Polaroid on the nightstand. In it, you and Rafe were beaming, arms slung around each other at some summer bonfire weeks before. Your hair was wild from the salt water, and his grin was as reckless as ever. It was weeks after your steady recover, before you tripped and the weight of guilt and shame began pressing down on you like lead.

Yesterday had started normally. You’d woken up with the soft glow of the sun filtering through the curtains, feeling almost optimistic. It wasn’t until you scrolled through Instagram that the first thread of anxiety wove itself around your chest. A picture from a girl you used to know, toned and confident in her bikini, had appeared at the top of your feed. The caption read “Hard work pays off.”

Your thumb froze mid-scroll, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Memories of skipped meals and endless calculations surfaced like unwelcome ghosts. A voice in your head, sharp and familiar, whispered, Why can’t you be like that?

The feeling followed you through the day, clinging like a second skin as your whole algorithmic seemed to sense your mind and show you all the gorgeous and thin girls in your feed. By the time afternoon came, the anxiety had grown into a suffocating mass that sat heavy in your chest. You paced the kitchen, each footstep echoing in your head. The silence was unbearable, the ticking of the clock like a countdown to something inevitable. You knew you weren’t going to settle down or forget until you did it.

The pantry door creaked as you opened it. Your fingers hovered over the neatly stacked items, trembling. Just a little, you told yourself, reaching for a handful of crackers. Just a few so I can cover this awful feeling – some good, old food comfort. But one taste turned into two, and soon, control slipped through your grasp like sand.

You moved on autopilot, the familiar numbness settling in as you grabbed chocolate bars, chips, anything you could find. Each bite was frantic, fueled by desperation and self-loathing. The last spoonful of ice cream melted on your tongue, its sweetness turning bitter as regret surged up, hot and suffocating.

When you came to, the evidence surrounded you: wrappers crumpled like discarded dreams, smudges of chocolate on your hands, the tub of ice cream half-melted on the counter. The kitchen, once a place of comfort, had become a cage, and you were the only prisoner.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you sank to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest. The weight of shame pressed down, crushing and relentless.

This morning, the mirror was your jury, and it was merciless. You tugged at your shirt, the fabric clinging to your skin as if conspiring against you. Your eyes, usually bright with laughter, were rimmed with red, dull and haunted. The internal monologue was relentless:

You’re weak. You’ve ruined everything. How could you let it happen again?

The silence in the house was shattered by the sound of the front door opening and closing. Rafe's voice echoed through the hallway, carefree and light. “Babe? You here?”

You didn’t respond, the shame was too raw, too close. You pulled your knees tighter to your chest, staring blankly at the mirror as if it would offer some kind of reprieve.

Footsteps approached and then paused at the threshold. The room was drenched in the soft, fading sunlight, but it did nothing to lift the heavy atmosphere.

“Hey.” Rafe’s voice softened when he saw you, the smile fading from his lips. Concern clouded his eyes as he took in your hunched form, your tear-streaked cheeks. He set down his phone without a word, crossing the room in three long strides.

“What happened?” he asked, voice low and gentle. He knelt beside you, resting a warm hand on your knee. The weight of his gaze was heavy but not suffocating, it was grounding.

“I messed up.” You whispered, voice breaking. “I messed up so bad.”

Rafe’s brows knitted, and he took a breath, steady and patient. “Talk to me, baby.” he coaxed. When you didn’t reply, he shifted to sit beside you on the floor, pulling you closer.

“I ate. I ate everything yesterday. I couldn’t stop.” you admitted, the words spilling out in a rush. Your voice trembled with the weight of confession. “And now I can’t stand to look at myself or… or to look at food again.”

His jaw clenched, not out of anger but out of a protective frustration. “Hey, hey” he whispered, turning to face you fully. His hands found yours, fingers weaving together with tender insistence. “Listen to me. You are not defined by one moment, alright? Not by yesterday, not by what happened.”

Tears welled up again, and you looked down, unable to meet his eyes. Rafe reached out, tilting your chin up so that you had no choice but to look at his blue eyes. “You were there for me, remember?” he said, his voice thickening. “Every time I messed up, every time I felt like I couldn’t crawl out of that pit with coke. You pulled me through. Don’t you dare think I’m not going to do the same for you. For however long it takes.”

The room stilled, the truth of his words settling into the spaces between the pain and you couldn’t help the sob that escaped your lips. You felt pathetic and mess, and yet Rafe was being understanding and loving – he was treating you like you should treat yourself.

He took your hand, placing a kiss to your palm as his eyes watched you tenderly. “Why don’t you take a nice bath?” he suggested, his voice gentle but firm. “It’ll help you feel a little better.”

You blinked at him, the exhaustion and emotional weight making it difficult to argue. Reluctantly, you nodded, and with a small smile, Rafe guided you to the bathroom, making sure you were settled before stepping out quietly, having lighten up your favorite eucalyptus scented cantle on the way out.

As the warm water wrapped around you, easing the tension in your muscles, Rafe was already in the kitchen, brow furrowed as he watched a YouTube video on his phone, the volume low so you wouldn’t hear. The video was one of those wholesome, comforting cooking channels, and he paid close attention, following each step precisely. He wanted this to be a surprise, a moment where he could make you feel seen and cared for like you had made him feel when he was struggling to keep clean.

Half an hour later, you slipped into one of Rafe’s sweaters, not wanting any fabric hugging your body. The scent of simmering herbs greeting you as you opened the bedroom’s door. Your curiosity piqued, and you made your way to the kitchen to find Rafe standing over the stove, a look of focused concentration on his face as he stirred a pot.

“Rafe?” you called, the sound soft, hesitant.

He turned, a sheepish grin spreading across his face as he caught your surprised expression. “Hey, I thought you could use something warm and comforting.”

“You didn’t have to—” you started, but he interrupted with a warm look.

“Yes, I did,” he said firmly. “It’s just a light soup to warm your stomach and keep you up. Something gentle to help you feel a little more settled.”

A few minutes later, he ladled the soup into a bowl, sliding it in front of you with a spoon. “This is going to be the best soup you’ve ever had.” He promised with a wink.

“And if you can’t eat much, that’s okay but you just gotta try, alright.” He pulled a chair, his arm sneaking around your waist as he brought you to his lap. His hand on your hip brushing a soft pattern under the fabric.

“Thank you.” you whispered, the tightness in your chest easing a little as you blinked a tear away.

Rafe pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “Always,” he said, his voice unwavering. “And remember, we’re in this together. Every single step.”

The first bite was warm and soothing and you felt your cheeks burning as he guided the spoon to your lips but his gentle whispers distracting you from feeling ashamed. He watched, eyes hopeful and patient. “It’s… really good.” you said, a small, genuine smile breaking through.

“Told you.” he grinned proudly, his lips moving to the bare skin on your shoulder. “And if we have to go through this a hundred more times, we will. We’re in this together, okay?”

You nodded, the knot in your chest loosening, replaced with something warm and steadfast. Hope didn’t feel so far out of reach.

“Tomorrow, we’re booking an appointment with the best therapist in Charleston. We’ll find someone who can help, okay? Someone who can give you the support you need.”

The sincerity in his voice brought fresh tears to your eyes. It felt like an embrace, even though he hadn’t moved further.

“You can do this, baby. You’re my tough girl, remember?” He whispered, his hand running up and down in a soothing rhythm on your back as he pressed a kiss to your lips.