No one donates to me 😢 please help me to make them pls donate to me share my link.🙏💔
📍I swear I will tell you my real story.🙏❤️
🌧️💔 I am Noor, a girl from Gaza, living in extremely harsh conditions. 🏚️ We lost our home to destruction and left everything behind, and the feeling of loss fills my heart. 💔 I am married and a mother to a baby girl, Lin, who is 11 months old. 🌼
📎My husband, Yousef, has been unemployed for a long time, and we suffer from a lack of support. We are living in a fabric tent that does not protect us from the harsh winter cold, and we feel like we are living out in the open, exposed to the winds. ❄️
My baby girl, Lin, is in dire need of milk 🍼 and diapers, but we have no income to buy the basic necessities to ensure her safety. The price of diapers is 100$, and the milk is 50$, which is far beyond our means. 😔
We have been displaced several times, and each time we are forced to leave our lives and belongings behind. We feel like we are starving, and we don’t even have appropriate clothes to face the severe winter cold. 👚❄️ Every passing day, my fears about Lin’s future grow, and I am frightened that I could lose her. 😢
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Hello dear friends,
I'm Nourand Iyad Mustafa Abu Rabee f… Hemalatha Chandrashekar needs your support for Let’s Help Nourand and Her Fam
🔸✨ Help us meet our basic needs. 🔸💖 Your donation can provide us with food and clothes that protect us from the cold. 🔸🌈 Let's make these difficult circumstances a memory that we can overcome together.💔😢
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Don't unlearn all that you now know about the crimes of Israel
Don't forget about the stolen land of Palestine
Don't stop your financial aids and contributions in sharing links and stories! They will all the help they can get! Thousands have no homes now. Thousands still need medical attention.
Don't stop pressuring your country to stop funding Israel
Don't stop boycotting those who support Israel
This is still an occupation. There's freedom to fight for
Please help Julia and her family! She is only 3 years old and her older brother is only 4. They deserve to grow up safe and happy with full bellies and a loving home, not deprived of basic human rights. Please do whatever is in your power to help!
💌 DONATE HERE -> tinyurl.com/HelpJuliaFamily
🕊 Currently at €20,313 / €55k -> 35% of the goal. Let's push so they may reach 50% soon!!
🌷 If you've ever wanted an art commission from me, im also holding a raffle that you can enter if you donate to this family - more info here if you're interested!
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My Shoto self inserts hehe,,, (on some of them I’m just fangirling ab him,,,) (and on some Izuku is also there cause ??? Idk I liked him too LOLLLLL),,, at the moment I was doing rlly bad at math 😔😔😔 so I would imagine Shoto explaining stuff to me to make it easier to me,,,, if u guys have any good self insert Shoto fics pls… spare a simple girl 😔😔😔
Hi! May I request a small fic where miles 42 dates a male reader who's very bubbly, glittery, fashionista, and dresses in very bright colors or pastels. Maybe Rio and Aaron finally get to meet him and try their best not to tease or laugh at how ironic it is?
They find it even funnier knowing he's the who's been stickers all of his jackets or just anything that came out of his room.
Got carried away with this one oopsie
take it or leave it.
Miles peeled off his dark green puffer jacket, brushing off stray rain drops that hadn’t evaporated yet. In doing so his fingers ran over something smooth like plastic. Already knowing what it was, he took his forefinger and thumb and removed it.
The face of a rabbit with an ‘x’ for a mouth stared blankly at him. Miles held it up to the light and smiled to himself as little dots of color shifted from orange to green, having a good idea who it was from.
You liked to slap these things everywhere–anywhere–that you could reach. Though you never explained yourself to him, Miles suspected that your reason was the same as his when he spray-painted the walls of abandoned buildings: to make your presence known in a world that seemed set on ignoring you.
Your bleach-blonde curls, pastel shirts and flared pants made you quite difficult to ignore in the first place.
Even Miles, who hid beneath his hoodies and oversized jackets, couldn’t take his eyes off of you from across the basketball court that fateful day as you sat on a bench crowded with your friends. They were dressed just as elaborately, but not with nearly as much variety of color.
One girl draped head-to-toe in black lace and silver jewelry leaned over to whisper something to you. Whatever was said made you turn and meet his eyes just as he caught the basketball that had just sunk through the net above him.
He froze momentarily and could’ve sworn he saw you grinning at him before he started dribbling again.
You were too far away for Miles to commit the details of your face to memory, but he recognized the blonde sitting at the top of your head when you rammed into him in the middle of the hallway the very next day.
Now in full uniform–save for the fashionably-loosened tie–his eyes were drawn to the row of helix piercings lining your right ear, and the faint glow of metallic eyeshadow swiped across your lids with lashes that curled sharply upwards like–
“Yo,” your voice brought him back to reality. “Are you okay? I said ‘my bad’.”
Miles blinked.
“Oh,” he replied dimly.
You laughed good-naturedly.
“Just ‘oh’?”
“I-I mean,” Miles stumbled over his words, “You’re…good. I guess.”
“That’s…good,” you parroted with a teasing smile. “See you around!”
You pulled the strap of your book bag further over your shoulder, causing the cluster of charms and trinkets hanging from it to click-clack together with every bouncy step you took as you weaved through the stream of oncoming students.
That was how it began.
“I think he likes you.”
Sela took a bite of her french fry, which she then pointed towards the next table ahead of her. You followed her line of vision right back to the mismatched eyes that had burned two holes into the back of your skull in the hallway.
And P.E.
And A.P. Bio.
The more you thought about it, the more your friend’s hypothesis began to sound believable.
Still, you shook your head and chuckled.
“He’s definitely straight, first of all.”
“You don’t know that! What happened to not assuming?”
“Hm, I dunno…”
You looked again. This time, Miles was fiddling with the sleeves of his uniform, avoiding eye contact. Presentation aside, you’d never really seen him running with the sort of boy that said “Pause!” every five minutes, so that was a plus.
…Then again, you’d never seen him running with anyone. He even hooped alone. You recalled him making several lay-ups in a row as clean as the twin braids that brushed his shoulders. No team required.
Sela interrupted your quiet deliberation.
“Go talk to him and find out, then. Not like he’s gonna kill you if you ask.”
She tapped her long black coffin nails on the lunch table, awaiting your answer.
“I don’t feel like getting up,” you groaned lazily.
“Fine, I’ll call him over.”
“Hey, wait–”
“Aye, Morales! Miles Morales!”
Miles looked startled. “Huh?”
Sela waved at him while you ran your palm over your face.
“C’mere!”
He eyed her suspiciously, but slowly got up and shuffled over to your table.
“Do you…” he looked around. “Need something?”
The girl gestured enthusiastically towards you, and you rolled your eyes mentally before replacing the irritation with a smile and taking the lead.
“You looked lonely over there, man. Come sit with us!”
Miles bit his bottom lip once you spoke up, appearing to take in a sharp breath before taking the empty seat across from you.
“So do you have any, like, actual friends–? Ow!”
Sela rubbed her arm after you gave her a good smack.
“Sorry about her. She meant to ask if you were doing alright. You seemed kinda out of it.”
“I’m…fine,” he answered slowly.
“Well, that’s good. You were staring at me somethin’ fierce, I thought I had done something to you.”
Miles felt a rush of heat travel straight to his cheeks.
“N-nah, it’s just that–well, I saw you at the basketball court, and…” he trailed off and began messing with the end of one of his braids.
You leaned in closer to hear him better, which didn’t help his situation.
“One more time?”
“I saw you. At the basketball court.”
The teasing grin returned to your face.
“Yeah, I saw you too. What about it?”
He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, trying to piece the right words together. Then he tried again.
“I liked your ‘fit.”
You held back an obnoxious snort of laughter.
“That’s it?”
“Yeah, you have…good…fashion sense.”
Miles wrinkled his nose. He didn’t even believe his own lie. Why would you?
Mercifully, you narrowed your eyes but didn’t say anything.
“Thanks. You got good taste in sneakers.”
You paused, then added, “Meet me at the basketball court after school and I’ll show you how I put my outfits together. How's that sound?”
The offer hung in the air. Miles considered the possibility that you were just pulling his leg and that he’d wind up standing alone in an empty court, but there was no sign of a joke in your expression.
He shrugged in a fake show of nonchalance.
“Sure.”
The two of you went on like that for two long months. Meeting each other on the court, sitting on the bench and making light conversation while shooting compliments at each other that always just missed the mark of what you really meant to say, until one day you finally got tired of meandering.
“Miles, can I ask you something?”
“I dunno,” he answered, sipping on a pouch of Capri-Sun. “Can you?”
“You promise that if I ask, you’re gonna give me an honest answer?”
“If it won’t get me arrested, sure.”
“Miles, I’m serious.”
Your gaze intensified, making his heart rate quicken.
“Alright.”
“Are you into me?”
His blood ran hot and icy cold at the same time.
The thumping in his chest whenever you got close and he could smell what soap you used, the absent-minded doodles in his sketchbook, and finally, the staring, had been given a name. And in being named, it took on a physical form - something blinding and liquid that shot through his bloodstream.
Miles wanted to be able to say no. Give a straight answer, and move on to a more comfortable topic. But you’d read him like a book the last time he tried to lie to your face.
You noticed his hesitation, and the vice grip he had on his now-empty Capri-Sun.
“It won’t change anything, I just wanna be sure.”
He looked unconvinced. How do you just go back to normal knowing that your friend is in love with you? They could pretend nothing had changed for maybe a couple weeks, maximum, before conversations became clipped greetings in the hallway, then fizzled out into nothing. Impossible.
But again, it was no use lying.
He avoided your eyes as he answered, “I think so.”
Cold, delicate fingers suddenly found themselves beneath his chin, and his eyes widened as you turned his face towards yours.
“Miles, look at me. You either do or you don’t.”
His heartbeat was in his ears now, making his breaths shallow and the veins in his eyes pulse. The setting sun cast a sentimental glow over everything that filtered through your hair. No one else was around, save for the warm breeze.
“Miles, are you good–?”
He pressed his lips against yours before he could stop himself. Your lips were smoother than he’d expected, just slightly tacky with mentholated lip balm.
And, more importantly, they kissed him back.
-
Miles grabbed his sketchbook from his desk drawer and opened it to a page filled with tiny sketches of your outfits. Carefully, he placed the sticker next to the baby blue puffer you’d worn yesterday so that the two of you could be “twins”.
He should really call you, he thought.
-
You sighed, leaning your head back on the couch beneath the cool air-conditioning of Miles’ uncle Aaron’s apartment. The tall, lean man that you’d guessed Miles had probably gotten his accent from (and sayings that could only come out of the mouth of an older man) had gone out momentarily to grab food for all three of you.
Feeling his eyes on you, you turned to your now-sort-of-official boyfriend with a questioning look.
“What?”
Miles was holding back a laugh.
“Why’d you switch up like that in front of my uncle?”
“I didn’t ‘switch up’ anything.”
“I have never heard you talk like that in my life.”
You copied his pose, slouching and man-spreading with your hands resting on your thighs. You flattened and lowered your voice into the boring monotone that teenage boys liked to adopt when they wanted to be taken seriously.
“You mean like this?”
This earned a snicker from Miles, whose expression then became earnest.
“Seriously, though, you don’t gotta do the whole act around my unc. He’s not like that.”
“Then why do you do it?”
The boy paused.
Your observation was correct - Miles tended to lengthen and smooth out his stride when he walked next to Aaron on their ‘grocery runs’. He would remove the playful lilt in his voice, like when you strain freshly-brewed tea, leaving only the mellow liquid behind.
“That’s…different.”
We’re trying to impress him for two different reasons.
You let it go.
“Whatever you say. You are gonna tell him about us, though, right? Since he’s ‘not like that’.”
Miles scoffed, “You’re the one that introduced yourself as ‘a close friend of mine’. I ain’t tell you to say any of that.”
“I wasn’t sure if you felt safe!” you laughed.
“We were holding hands before he even opened the door, he definitely saw that shit.”
“Alright, alright, you win. We’ll both tell him, then. Sound good?”
“Sounds great.”
-
“Miles! Tu novio!”
“Coming!”
Miles padded over to the living room, where you stood in a bright yellow jacket covered in vibrant patchwork, and those jeans with the spray-painted stars all over them. Your hair was hidden beneath a red beanie you had stolen from his closet.
Aaron sipped on a fresh cup of coffee in the kitchen, well-within earshot as Miles greeted you.
“Hey.” The boy smiled, awkwardly sticking his hands in the pockets of his plain, dark-wash jeans.
His mother Rio shut the door and looked on in amusement at the two boys standing in front of her. You would think her son would add some more color to his wardrobe, being with someone that looked like that. But the all-black ensemble wasn’t going anywhere.
“¿Ustedes dos siguen fingiendo ser amigos?” the woman teased. “I’m not sensing any affection over here, guys!”
Miles gave his mom a blank stare, while you laughed. Even months later, the other boy wasn’t one for PDA.
“Oh they real affectionate, alright,” Aaron chimed in.
“Here we go…”
“I go out to get these boys some Domino’s one time, right? I come back up, and these two are cuddling on my damn couch after they told me they were ‘just good friends’. Now mind you, I ain’t believe ‘em for a second–”
“That’s great, unc,” Miles was already tugging you in the direction of his room, “We’re leaving now!”
“Don’t get too touchy in there!”
Once inside, he shut the door behind him. You struggled to suppress a laugh at the weary look on his face as you sat on the edge of his bed.
“She’s kinda right, y’know.”
“About?”
“It wouldn’t kill you to spare me a hug or something, once in a while.”
He said nothing.
You scanned Miles’ bedroom. All of his manga had been cleared off of his desk, and his swivel chair was no longer burdened with a pile of clothes. He just cleaned his room, you think.
The only thing left sitting there was his notorious sketchbook, a ballpoint pen, and a couple of Tombow markers scattered about.
And of course, your stickers.
You got up to take a closer look at the loose sketches and hummed in satisfaction.
“You’re really good at getting clothing folds right. You sure you never wanna study fashion design?”
He smiled, and shook his head.
“I’ll leave the fashion shit to you.”
“We could go to F.I.T. together, you and me.”
Without so much as making a peep, Miles and his long legs had snuck up behind you to wrap his equally-long arms around your waist.
“I’ll visit you.”
“What are you doing?”
“You asked for a hug.”
“That’s not what I mea–”
“Take it or leave it.”
The smell of paint and Jergens lotion enveloped you as you pulled him closer. You inhaled deeply, then sighed.
Okay so I just got off the phone with them. I talked to a trans girl named Aurora & she was super helpful! She gave me a few doctors to talk to & encouraged me to seek therapy instead of just rushing to get my pills. She literally found a trans friendly therapist in my town & I would definitely recommend giving them a call!
To Write Better Antagonists, Have Them Embody the Protagonist's Struggles
(Spoilers for The Devil Wears Prada, Avatar the Last Airbender, Kung Fu Panda 2, and The Hunger Games triology).
Writing antagonists and villains can be hard, especially if you don't know how to do so.
I think a lot of writers' first impulse is to start off with a placeholder antagonist, only to find that this character ends up falling flat. They finish their story only for readers to find the antagonist is not scary or threatening at all.
Often the default reaction to this is to focus on making the antagonist meaner, badder, or scarier in whatever way they can- or alternatively they introduce a Tragic Backstory to make them seem broken and sympathetic. Often, this ends up having the exact opposite effect. Instead of a compelling and genuinely terrifying villain, the writer ends up with a Big Bad Edge Lord who the reader just straight up does not care about, or actively rolls their eyes at (I'm looking at you, Marvel).
What makes an antagonist or villain intimidating is not the sheer power they hold, but the personal or existential threat they pose to the protagonist. Meaning, their strength as a character comes from how they tie into the themes of the story.
To show what I mean, here's four examples of the thematic roles an antagonist can serve:
1. A Dark Reflection of the Protagonist
The Devil Wears Prada
Miranda Priestly is initially presented as a terrible boss- which she is- but as the movie goes on, we get to see her in a new light. We see her as an bonafide expert in her field, and a professional woman who is incredible at what she does. We even begin to see her personal struggles behind the scenes, where it’s clear her success has come at a huge personal cost. Her marriages fall apart, she spends ever waking moment working, and because she’s a woman in the corporate world, people are constantly trying to tear her down.
The climax of the movie, and the moment that leaves the viewer most disturbed, does not feature Miranda abusing Andy worse than ever before, but praising her. Specifically, she praises her by saying “I see a great deal of myself in you.” Here, we realize that, like Miranda, Andy has put her job and her career before everything else that she cares about, and has been slowly sacrificing everything about herself just to keep it. While Andy's actions are still a far cry from Miranda's sadistic and abusive managerial style, it's similar enough to recognize that if she continues down her path, she will likely end up turning into Miranda.
In the movie's resolution, Andy does not defeat Miranda by impressing her or proving her wrong (she already did that around the half way mark). Instead, she rejects the values and ideals that her toxic workplace has been forcing on her, and chooses to leave it all behind.
2. An Obstacle to the Protagonist's Ideals
Avatar: The Last Airbender
Fire Lord Ozai is a Big Bad Baddie without much depth or redemptive qualities. Normally this makes for a bad antagonist (and it's probably the reason Ozai has very little screen time compared to his children), but in Avatar: The Last Airbender, it works.
Why?
Because his very existence is a threat to Aang's values of nonviolence and forgiveness.
Fire Lord Ozai cannot be reasoned with. He plans to conquer and burn down the world, and for most of the story, it seems that the only way to stop him is to kill him, which goes against everything Aang stands for. Whether or not Aang could beat the Fire Lord was never really in question, at least for any adults watching the show. The real tension of the final season came from whether Aang could defeat the Fire Lord without sacrificing the ideals he inherited from the nomads; i.e. whether he could fulfill the role of the Avatar while remaining true to himself and his culture.
In the end, he manages to find a way: he defeats the Fire Lord not by killing him, but by stripping him of his powers.
3. A Symbol of the Protagonist's Inner Struggle
Kung Fu Panda 2
Kung Fu Panda 2 is about Po's quest for inner peace, and the villain, Lord Shen, symbolizes everything that's standing in his way.
Po and Lord Shen have very different stories that share one thing in common: they both cannot let go of the past. Lord Shen is obsessed with proving his parents wrong and getting vengeance by conquering all of China. Po is struggling to come to terms with the fact that he is adopted and is desperate to figure out who he is and why he ended up left in a box of radishes as a baby.
Lord Shen symbolizes Po's inner struggle in two main ways: one, he was the source of the tragedy that separated him from his parents, and two, he reinforces Po's negative assumptions about himself. When Po realizes that Lord Shen knows about his past and confronts him, Lord Shen immediately tells Po exactly what he's afraid of hearing: that his parents abandoned him because they didn't love him. Po and the Furious Five struggle to beat Shen not because he's powerful, but because Po can't let go of the past, and this causes him to repeatedly freeze up in battle, which Shen uses to his advantage.
Po overcomes Shen when he does the one thing Shen is incapable of: he lets go of the past and finds inner peace. Po comes to terms with his tragic past and recognizes that it does not define him, while Shen holds on to his obsession of defying his fate, which ultimately leads to his downfall.
4. A Representative of a Harsh Reality or a Bigger System
The Hunger Games
We don't really see President Snow do all that much on his own. Most of the direct conflict that Katniss faces are not with him, but with his underlings and the larger Capitol government. The few interactions we see between her and President Snow are mainly the two of them talking, and this is where we see the kind of threat he poses.
President Snow never lies to Katniss, not even once, and this is the true genius behind his character. He doesn't have to lie to or deceive Katniss, because the truth is enough to keep her complicit.
Katniss knows that fighting Snow and the Capital will lead to total war and destruction- the kind where there are survivors, but no winners. Snow tells her to imagine thousands upon thousands of her people dead, and that's exactly what happens. The entirety of District 12 gets bombed to ashes, Peeta gets brainwashed and turned into a human weapon, and her sister Prim, the very person she set out to protect at the beginning of the story, dies just before the Capitol's surrender. The districts won, but at a devastating cost.
Even after President Snow is captured and put up for execution, he continues to hurt Katniss by telling her the truth. He tells her that the bombs that killed her sister Prim were not sent by him, but by the people on her side. He brings to her attention that the rebellion she's been fighting for might just implement a regime just as oppressive and brutal as the one they overthrew and he's right.
In the end, Katniss is not the one to kill President Snow. She passes up her one chance to kill him to take down the new threat of President Coin.
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