#they have brain rot but its not their fault they were born into a crumbling society

[prestigiouspea]

Why is it that as soon as the next gen comes around or a previous gen has kids they just fully fucking forget the concept of being a child. Like I thought the making fun of younger gens was a pre technology thing like blah blah blah we grew up with/without x y z and that we as then the youngest gen agreed that it was fucking annoying and therefore wouldn't do it. Then gen alpha pulled up and everyone was like WhAt ThE hElL iS a SkIbBiTy ToIlEt, LoL oHiO sIgMa RiZz... It's slang and references girl, that's how it works, we just did this shit😭. WTF is yeet? Sheesh? Dead ass? Big mood? Fucking mint? Bsffr y'all developing memory issues if you're boomerified already. Also you're gonna shit on these KIDS for being stupid as you simultaneously complain that we're slipping into a dystopian society and that we missed out because of that exact thing which has only gotten worse in time. We were born into adobe flash and Omegle, before the total domination of vanity and meme rot. They were born into Snapchat, twitch, and normalized cyber bullying. This "brain rot" is all they know so maybe imagine life from their perspective first. Also side note for parents; how're you gonna bitch about your upbringing and then do the same shit to your child bc "that's how I was raised" DID IT FUCKING WORK?? NO IT WAS JUST TRAUMATIZING SO WHAT'S THE LOGIC HERE??? Anyway my point is that imo y'all are not the pattern breakers you thought you were and reevaluation is in order

[paradise-creator]

Okayyyy. Seatbelt on, space cadet! I'm gonna take you on a loooong journey ✨

First of all hello again! I'm here to request for a Haikyuu romantic Haven Box if there's still a spot left. Take your time tho, I'm good at waiting 🙌🏻

here we gooo. so I'm an 159cm pansexual asian girl. I'm a little bit on the chubby side. I got long black wavy hair and I always let it down. People say I look rude and cold so they are afraid to befriend me at first (some even hate me for no reason.) I mean its not my fault that I borned with this resting bih face 😭💔 I love wearing dark colored clothes, high waisted jeans and Sneakers.

I do wear makeup, and my favorite lipstick color is red. Like a really bold red. That's like my trademark.

for personality, I'm an enfp, taurus, gryffindor (big yikes!); I think I'm a pretty openminded person. I'm not afraid to speak up and I will fight (both using words and fists) for what I believe in. People see me as someone confident and to look up to; Tho honestly I'm pretty insecure with myself. Like I find nothing good about me and got depressed easily. Its like I have this happy clown persona everytime I'm outside my house and once I go back to my bedroom by myself its all the sad clown hours haha. ooh- this is getting kinda heavy. 😵 But anyway I care about my family and friends a lot. Their happiness is actually more important than my own. So I'd do anything to help and protect all of them.

My hobbies are sleeping, singing and watching horror movies/true crime documentaries; and yes I got scared after watching those stuff so I ended up searching for some broadway musical 😂😂 I also love to play games; otome games, cause my love life sucks *coughs*

Some facts about me!!

I believe in soulmate. Just the thought that we all have someone created specifically for us is making me happy 🥺❤

I'm a touch starved person. So I like doing skinship and PDA. I just love being spoiled and showered with love I guess 👉🏻👈🏻

I hate spicy foods, cause it really burns my throat. and I also hate lizards. They are gross and weird 😭😭

I believe ghosts are real and I'd definitely want to speak to them someday. Just asking them how does it feel to be a ghost? Is there a way to help em stop being a ghost? (Only with the nice ghost of course) 👻💕

My favorite song is Helpless by Phillipa Soo and if that doesn't show how much of a Hopeless romantic I am then idk 😂😂

I love watching tarot cards reading.

I'm a sucker for enemies to lovers trope and I can't stop this addiction. Like aaaaa its cliche but I love em so much ashdjflgl

Okay thats it! I need to stop talking before my ask give you some real headache 😂 I wish all this information helps you write a little bit and not bother you in one way or another!! Have a great day and stay healthy in this pandemic situation 🙌🏻✨ see yaaaaa~☆

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ɴᴏᴡ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ

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Hello and Welcome my Starlight!

The Haven box includes:

- Match up

- Sun drop

- Old habits die hard

-  No matter what

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

I'd match you up with

Oikawa Tooru, The Grand King

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Sun drops

- Okay, when I read your description Oikawa popped in my head. So on to the great king we go!

- I also had an Oikawa brain rot when I decided to do your request but either way, I still think you two would look cute!

- Oikawa is the most realistic character in Haikyuu and I believe you two would definitely match

- You feel insecure? No worries, Oikawa already saw it coming and is going to give you compliments and gifts

- He may not look like it, but he is really observant

- You can't hide your feelings from this man cause he has been through that

- You both were deemed the power couple of the school

- He would ALWAYS always remind you to take care of yourself

- Both of you seem confident and really out going but in reality, you both are really insecure

- You both would understand each other

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Old habits die hard

- He almost NEVER calls you by common nicknames, except for Queen and princess

- Your nickname can be something weird like my little Alien or smth

- Whenever you watch a game, he alsyws gives you his extra jersey or his jacket

- He would randomly say I love you and if you don't respond, he'll pout

- You gave him a plushie and he named it after you

- Stargazing (Alien hunting) is his favorite type of date

- Study dates almost always ends up with one of you dead asleep before starting anything

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No matter what

Oikawa Tooru is the grand king of Seijoh. He was handsome, smart, and all that. He was very athletic and observant. He gets along with everyone and anyone. He could get any girl to swoon to him but he is only loyal to volleyball and Iwaizumi. And that’s what people thought, but this king has fallen off his throne. He, has fallen in love and doesn’t know what to do. It started with the little things like seeing how she loves skinship or how she hates spicy food. He thought it was normal, he was observant after all. But as time passes, he realized that he might be falling. He tried and tried to avoid it, knowing that it might just hurt him in the end anyway. He knew that he wasn’t going to be able to fulfil what was in her heart because he would always choose volleyball. Oikawa had a girlfriend once, she left him because he wasn’t good enough, and he didn’t give her enough of his time.

Oikawa did not want that to happen again. He didn’t want his heart torn into pieces yet again. But still, he fell deep into the rabbit hole called love. And he hated her for it, becoming her enemy for no reason at all. But, fate seemed to be in his side. Soon enough the “mortal nemesis��� relationship faded away and love soon blossomed. It wasn’t as smooth as most people would say but it’s still a beautiful sight to behold. The way Oikawa looks at her with so much love and passion, it’s breathtaking. The way that she would cheer for him no matter what, it’s alluring. A love so pure that it seems surreal and impossible. From then on, the great king knew that she was thee one. He knew that even if he was too busy, she would understand. He knew that she would always be by his side no matter what the cost is.

And he knew that no matter what happens, he would always love her. Volleyball may be his priority, but he will soon get out of it. Slowly but surely, the walls he built was crumbling away. Slowly but surely, his distant exterior grows into an attached and close koala. Oikawa’s train of thought was then shattered as he heard someone calling out to him. “Oi Shittykawa, why the hell is your face like that?” Iwaizumi said as he cringed at the sight. “Geez Iwa-chan, can’t a guy think about his soulmate in peace?” He then responded as he glared at the shorter male. “We have a game to play, Stupidkawa. And if you miss her so bad, why don’t you go to her at the stands and talk to her?” Iwaizumi said as he glared intently at his best friend. “I have a better idea,” Oikawa said as he stood up. His eyes wandered around the bleachers to find his one and only. And soon enough, he was able to see her long black wavy hair and her beautiful eyes. “Princess!” He yelled.

The female then smiled and waved at the player adorning the cyan colors with the number one. “Yes, my prince?” She yelled back. “Oh! My darling Princess! I love you with all my heart and know that no matter what, I’ll still be in love with you,” He yelled. The stadium awed at the interaction. Oikawa now found his one and only, his soulmate. And he would never let go, no matter what.

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Author's note

Hello there! I'm so sorry for doing this quite late. Since exams and school and all that.

I hope you enjoy this matchup nonetheless! And I also made sure that the drabble was a bit different and unique to make up for it. Since I decided to try out a new way of writing.

[megabadbunny]

some kind of AU where Rose dates her superior, The Doctor. Could be student,teacher or worker,boss or whatever you want

Hey there nonny!!! I’m sure your interest in my fill for this prompt died a long time ago and its corpse is now gently crumbling away to dust, for which I deeply apologize. The thing is, while I totally understand why folks like AUs, they’re not my thing (I tend to be a stickler for canon or canon-divergent stuff, with the exception of fem!versions of the Doctor), and after a series of former jobs with male supervisors who were, well, kinda dickbags a lot of the time, I’ll admit I had a hard time getting over that and struggled with this prompt quite a bit. (Seriously, I’ve been working on a response to this for two and a half years now!) However, because I do have stuff written, and it seems a shame for it to just languish away in my WIPs folder untouched by the light of day, Imma go ahead and post what little I did manage to get written over the last 28 months. And here’s the dilly: if someone else sees it and feels a mighty need, I’d be more than happy to send them my notes or do a bit of collab with them if they’d like to pick up the trail from here!

pygmalion’s revenge

Rose Tyler is, in no particularorder, 24 years old, British, white, female, a stage actress, a former gymnastand current runner, a connoisseur of chocolates and films starring Idris Elba andColin Firth, and, despite being a dreadful flirt, just a tad bit dense when itcomes to picking up on signs of a certain nature.

The epiphany smacks her like a handto the face, dawning on her sometime in a grey morning in her tiny London flat.Evidence of a job hunt is spread over her dinged old kitchen table, a smallmountain of newspapers and printouts with her laptop sitting pretty andvictorious at the peak, all of them hiding pockmarks and coffee-rings andsomething that looks suspiciously like a cigarette burn which Shareen swears upand down that she knows nothing about. Rose stares at it all while hersleep-lagged brain tries to decide whether her mouth wants tea or coffee. (Teais the obvious answer, and the likely victor, but sometimes a mug of foul-tastingjet fuel is just what she needs to get through the morning. “Morning person”does not number among the many things that Rose Tyler is.) And while her eyesstare and her eyelids droop and her brain pontificates, even though it’s gotnothing to do with anything, somewhere in the back room of her subconscioussome part of her just realizes.

The Doctor is totally, completelyarse-over-heels in love with her.

“Jesus, Jack,” she asks, withoutpreamble, the moment her flatmate steps into the kitchen, “Am I an idiot?”

Jack’s resounding laughter letsher know that yes, in this particular case, “idiot” ranks very high on the listof things that Rose Tyler is.

***

Rose firstmet the Doctor when she was 19 years old, neither a gymnast nor a runner norsomeone with even her A-levels, working a dead-end job at Henrik’s. She hadnabbed the position in an attempt to chip away at theseveral-thousand-pound-debt incurred by a year of irresponsible living with agood-for-nothing boyfriend. (Thanks, Jimmy.) And the day she met the Doctor, shehad just clocked out at the end of her shift and stepped into the ancient lift,so absorbed in her fashion magazine with some silly name (Belle or Metropolitanor Splendor or some such rot) that she didn’t even look up when the doorsopened and someone joined her.

She frowned.There it was again.

This time thetext was splashed in white across a model’s bright blue jumper—“Bad Wolf.”Those words kept popping up everywhere Rose looked. She saw them spray-paintedon bins, printed on takeaway menus, in big black letters outside stuffy-lookingoffice buildings, on the bottoms of pink and yellow nail polish sets. Thephrase had popped up everywhere seemingly overnight. What was this obsessionwith Bad Wolf, and more importantly, whydid no one else seem to notice it?

“I wouldn’tbuy that one,” a chipper voice informed her from somewhere to her left. “Thecolor is nice, but the lanolin acids present in such a wool-heavy blend arelikely to cause some unpleasant contact dermatitis.”

Rose openedher mouth to politely tell this gent and his posh Estuary accent to mind theirown business, but fortunately, her eyes moved faster than her lips; she foundherself staring at a bloke who, despite being so thin that a hard look mightknock him over, was pretty enough to make her heart trip on itself. Academictypes didn’t usually do it for her (there was something about their snootyvoices and prim manners and patronizing attitudes that grated on her nerves,somehow). But, looking this fellow up and down as subtly as she was able, eyescataloging everything from his spectacles to his wild hair to his freckles tothe ever-so-slightly tatty brown pinstripe suit—paired with Chucks, no less,who wears Chucks with a pinstripe suit?—Rose felt that perhaps she could makean exception this time.

“Thanks,professor. I’ll keep it in mind,” she teased as the lift lurched and lumbered upward.

“What makesyou say I’m a professor?” he asked, mouth twitching in amusement.

Sheshrugged. “S’just a joke,” she replied, but halfway through her sentence, itoccurred to her that the fellow was looking at her in a very specific way, andthat gave her pause. He wasn’t leering at her like the lads on the sidewalk, orsneering at her like gentlemen in suits were oft wont to do. Instead he waswatching her almost like—

Like she wasonto something.

Rose’s eyestracked him over. “I guess the specs look sort of professor-ish,” she offered.“Wearing a suit, too, brown and not too fancy. Nothing wrong with it, but youwouldn’t catch it at Harrods. And you’ve got a bunch of student papers stickingout of your briefcase,” she said, pointing at the worn leather case danglingfrom one hand.

“What makesyou say they’re from students?” he asked, a smile hiding in the corners of hiseyes.

She was definitely onto something.

“Well,they’ve got grades on them, don’t they?” Rose asked. “Gotta be students.”

His facesplit in a wide grin. “That makes sense. Well done.”

“Thanks,”Rose laughed, and she was only being a little sarcastic. “Did I pass the test,then?”

“With flyingcolors.”

Both of themsmiled at each other, and Rose felt just the tiniest twinge of regret when thelift arrived at its destination. The doors slid open, the bell chimed out aloud announcement, and neither Rose nor the professor moved away.

“Well,” theprofessor said, fidgeting a bit in his plimsolls. He tilted his head toward theexit. “Got to run. See you around, maybe?”

Not if I see you first is what Rose thought.

“Sure,” iswhat she said.

With acheeky grin, the professor stepped out of the lift and walked away. He didn’t seemto notice the paper that fluttered in his wake, drifting out of his case andfloating lazily, featherlike, to the floor.

“Wait,” Rosestarted, scooping the paper up in her hand, but the doors were closing and theprofessor didn’t turn back. Rose quickly gave the paper a once-over (it couldbe rubbish, but what if it was a student’s assignment, what if the professorhadn’t graded it yet, what if that poor sod ended up with a 0 through no faultof their own?) and was surprised by the words she found at the top.

OPEN CASTING CALL

And a littlebelow that:

For George Bernard Shaw’s

PYGMALION

At the Blue Box Theatre

Rosefrowned. Open casting? She wasn’tsure what that meant, exactly, but it was obviously something to do with aplay. Had to be a play if it was in a theatre. Right? Was it like auditions?(And if it was like auditions, why didn’t it just say that?)

The liftdoors opened at her destination and Rose balled the paper up in her hands,compressing it neatly into its own little cragged-edged world. She tossed it inthe rubbish bin without a second thought.

…but she didhave an individual thought, on its own, not two seconds later, which encouragedher to pick the paper right back up.

(No harm inchecking it out, right?)

***

A quick few minutes of Googlingshow her everything she needs to know. Jack is happy to supplement the rest.

“A bit familiar, isn’t it?” heteases, looking over her shoulder while she types. Normally she would beinclined to tell him that that’s a load of bunk, and then outline preciselyjust how much bunk that is, but the parallels seem pretty undeniable.

“Pyggies was years ago,” Rosesays in a protest that they both know is feeble. “This doesn’t mean—”

“Rose,” Jack interrupts, gently.“It means.”

Rose worries her lip while shescrolls down the screen. Jack’s right. Of course he is. But that doesn’t makethings any easier. It doesn’t make hurt feelings unhurt or apologies magicallysaid.

But.

“He’s trying,” Jack says.

“What, you his agent, now? Mostpeople get paid for a job like that.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Look, Iknow he’s an idiot. Everyone knows. Hell, even he knows. But you also know he’smore than that. And even if it’s a stupid gesture…at least it’s a gesture.”

Rose stares at the screen somemore. Open CastingCall, it says. Born Yesterday, it says. Seeking ExceptionallyTalented Woman (Character Experience Preferred), it says.

“Those American accents are goingto be dreadful,” Rose says.

***

They’ll tellyou that you should never go into an audition unprepared, but Rose didn’t knowthat yet. Besides, she never really cared much about what They tell you.

(Also, shestill wasn’t entirely sure she was going to audition at all. Or so she toldherself, standing in front of the Blue Box Theatre with a crumpled flier in herhand. Maybe she had only shown up to see what the thing was all about.Certainly she had not shown up hoping to get cast, definitely she wasn’t hopingto see the intriguing professor-bloke again.)

“The queuestarts round the back,” a Scottish voice popped up, and Rose turned to see ayoung redheaded woman leaning against the blue brick wall. Her hair fell aroundher face in curtains, her legs were impossibly long, and the casual way shedragged smoke out of her cigarette made Rose’s fingers itch.

“Sorry?”

“The queue,”the girl repeated, as if repetition would encourage understanding. “It’s roundthe back.” She gestured with the cigarette, trailing ash in its wake. “Thatway.”

***

And that’s it, folks. If you’re interesting in picking it up, let me know and I’ll send you my notes!