Oh Haven’t You Heard???? Things Will Get Better And You Will Be Okay

A concept: @danielhowell wearing Billie Eilish’s “Bellyache” outfit  (click for better quality)

Artist: @genen0x (permission to post)

~Please don’t repost/remove text~ Reblogs are appreciated!

He never did stop being so damn pretty.

you know that feeling when you 😂🤣

I WANT SOMETHING ELSE

featuring ⋮ kirishima eijirou, bakugou katsuki, kaminari denki, midoriya izuku, sero hanta, & todoroki shouto

bnha smau ᯓ★ m—dni. f ! reader. established relationship / suggestive & implied / mention of toys / face sitting i love you

you’re asking them—very explicitly—for head (except denki he’s offering it no questions asked lmao)

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

#lionuse

ᡣ𐭩 between shared walls ⋮ roommate!hamzah

wc ⋮ 1.2k

authors note ⋮ so this was ORIGINALLY intended to be like 300-500 words.. yeeeaaahhh.. ANYWAYS i feel like theres rlly not enough hamzah fics and its so sad i read them all in like 2 days💔💔

the first time you met hamzah, he was standing in the doorway of your new apartment, a cup of instant ramen in hand and sleep-mussed hair. his voice was groggy when he introduced himself, rubbing his eyes like a kid waking up from a nap. you were flustered, apologizing for the boxes blocking the hallway, but he just shrugged.

“it’s your home too,” he said, flashing a lopsided smile before disappearing into his room.

living with him was… easy, in ways you didn’t expect. he cleaned the kitchen without being asked and always brewed an extra cup of tea in the mornings. you’d find notes on the fridge in his scrawled handwriting — reminders like “don’t forget your umbrella” or “good luck on your exam!” he never overstepped, always giving you space, but his quiet presence became a comfort you didn’t know you needed.

but easy didn’t mean simple.

you tried not to fall for him. truly, you did. but then he’d lean against the counter late at night, listening to your ramblings about work with those gentle eyes, or he’d nudge your shoulder with his when you were sad, offering a half-hearted, “want me to fight whoever upset you?”

it built slowly, this ache in your chest.

and then, one night, it cracked.

you’d just gotten home from a disastrous date, eyes puffy from crying, mascara streaking your cheeks. hamzah was on the couch, scrolling through his phone, and he immediately sat up when he saw you.

“what happened?” his voice, usually so light, was low, serious.

you tried to brush it off, but he wouldn’t let you. he listened as you spilled every awful detail — the harsh words, the disappointment, the feeling of never being enough. you kept talking until your throat hurt, until there was nothing left to say.

and then he whispered, “he’s an idiot, you know.”

you laughed, wet and shaky. “i think that’s generous.”

he looked at you, really looked at you, and something shifted.

“i don’t get it,” he murmured, voice rough around the edges. “how anyone could have you — could know you — and not feel like the luckiest person alive.”

your heart thudded painfully. “hamzah…”

he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “forget it. you should get some sleep.”

for days, things were… strange. he wasn’t cold, but distant in a way he never was before. the notes on the fridge stopped, and he spent more time in his room, door closed. you missed him, missed the way things used to be, and it made your chest feel hollow.

but then, one night, there was a knock on your door.

hamzah stood there, rubbing the back of his neck, looking unsure for the first time since you met him.

“i can’t —” his voice cracked. “i can’t keep pretending like i don’t want more.”

and just like that, the ache in your chest unraveled.

because neither could you.

you stared at hamzah, your heart hammering against your ribs like it wanted out. his words lingered in the air, heavy and fragile all at once.

“i can’t keep pretending like i don’t want more,” he’d said, voice shaking like he hated how vulnerable he sounded.

but the truth was, you hated it more — hated the thought of him hurting, of him thinking he had to hide from you.

“come in,” you whispered, stepping aside.

he hesitated, lingering in the doorway like he might run. but he didn’t. he stepped into your room, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, and you shut the door behind him.

the silence stretched, uncomfortable and loaded. you sat on the edge of your bed, picking at the hem of your sweater, and hamzah stayed standing, shoulders tense like he was bracing for impact.

“why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, voice small.

he exhaled a humorless laugh, rubbing his face. “because you deserve someone better.”

your chest cracked open. “better?”

he nodded, pacing the length of your room. “someone who doesn’t freeze up every time you smile at them. someone who can actually hold a conversation instead of standing there like an idiot because they’re too busy trying not to stare at your mouth.”

your breath caught. “hamzah—”

“you don’t get it.” he turned to face you, eyes burning. “i liked you from the start. and every day i told myself it was just a crush, that it would fade. but then you’d leave me notes on the fridge or laugh at my stupid jokes, and it just… got worse.”

you swallowed hard, hands trembling in your lap. “it wasn’t a crush,” you whispered. “not for me either.”

he froze. “what?”

you stood, heart in your throat. “i tried so hard not to fall for you, hamzah. but then you’d make me tea when i couldn’t sleep or stay up late watching terrible movies with me because i was sad, and i… i couldn’t help it.”

he stared at you, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“i thought you didn’t see me that way,” you admitted, voice breaking. “i thought i was just your roommate.”

hamzah closed the distance between you in two steps. his hands hovered over your arms like he was scared to touch you, scared you’d disappear.

“you were never just anything to me,” he whispered.

and when you didn’t pull away, he finally cupped your face in his hands, fingers warm and careful.

“you sure about this?” he asked, voice shaking.

you nodded, tears burning your eyes. “i’ve never been more sure.”

so he kissed you — soft, tentative, like he was terrified of doing it wrong. but when you kissed him back, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie, he melted.

and for the first time since you met him, everything finally made sense.

Dan and Phil art is here 

Imagine being a kid in school. Your teacher comes up with an idea for class picture. Every student will draw pictures of their friends.

Everyone starts drawing enthusiasticly, and can’t wait to see what they look like in the drawings. When pictures are ready you notice that popular students have more pictures than rest, but nobody has done a drawing of you. The teacher notices that too, and asks if someone would do your picture. To your horror the class clown takes the job, and comes up with a caricature of you. Others are laughing, but you’re not. You feel awful. The teacher notices that. and asks again someone to do a drawing of you. One of the ‘good students’ starts drawing, but the result is forced. It’s just a drawing of a generic child wearing a shirt of same color as you a wearing. There’s no spirit, no soul in it. You start sensing that the class is geting frustrated with you. They want to be done with this. You ask quietly the teacher if you could do a drawing yourself.

After school your classmates confront you. Why did you have to make such a big deal out of it? The first picture was funny. The second picture was just fine! The drawing you did yourself wasn’t right, do you think you are that good-looking? There were other kids who got only one or two pictures of themselves. Who are you to demand special treatment? Maybe there would have been a picture of you if you weren’t such annoying baby, nobody likes you anyway, and nobody’s going to if you keep on being like that, you don’t deserve a drawing!

This could be story of bullying, but it’s also about how I see portraying LGBTQ+-people and PoC in mainstream entertainment.

Thanks to Fandoms and Feminism for inspiration!

the spider’s sense! a spidercaleb series.

♥︎ spider-man!caleb 𝑥 fem!reader

synopsis. ┆ caleb’s life was perfect—until it wasn’t. a radioactive spider bite turned him into linkon’s friendly neighborhood spider-man, the daily bugle started hunting for the man behind the mask, and to top it all off, he was forced to partner up with you—his smart, competitive, and infuriatingly perfect classmate who threatened his spot as number one in the class rankings.

tags/warnings. ┆ college/modern au, academic rivals to lovers, fluff, angst, eventual smut, gran isn’t evil in this LOL, the canon event, college parties, alcohol consumption, cliches, depictions of serious crime, references to the spider-man comics and movies, mdni

a/n. ┆ fanart art is by 长白山小葱头 on weibo. this is my first series on this app to celebrate hitting 1K! if you want to join the taglist, comment on this post or send me an ask.

main masterlist. ┆ talk to me!

chapter one ── pest control.

caleb's worst fear comes true when the two of you are assigned as lab partners, especially after your first experiment together goes horribly wrong in more ways than one. (4.6k)