Come on in to angel's library! Do you want to get a library card? Oh, you're already a member? Then go ahead and check out our bookshelves, or perhaps you'd like to take a look at the archive.
If you're unsure of what to read, our librarian can give you some recommendations, or you could browse through our recent acquisitions:
heartbreak anniversary - osamu. angst.
heaven in your eyes - sakusa. fluff.
the lost art of rivalry - akaashi. smau, fluff.
penpal - osamu. smau, angst.
And if you're interested in finding more libraries, here are the librarian favorites!
I am reaching out on behalf of my dear friend, Mohamad S., who is facing one of the most challenging times of his life. Mohamad is 37 years old and left his homeland in 2015 in search of a safer and better future. He’s a kind, hardworking man, and his small family has always been his greatest priority.
Living abroad, Mohamad has recently endured unimaginable loss and financial strain. Amidst the ongoing conflict in his homeland, his mother passed away, leaving behind his sister and her five young children—the last remaining members of his immediate family.
As the situation worsened, Mohamad managed to help his sister and her children escape to safety in Egypt, covering their immediate needs and securing a temporary refuge for them. Since then, he has been fully responsible for providing everything they need to survive during this transition.
In his efforts to support his family and cope with this devastating loss, Mohamad has found himself deeply in debt. To make matters even more difficult, he recently underwent knee surgery, which limits his ability to return to work for the foreseeable future. This has made it even harder for him to manage his financial responsibilities and the pressing need to provide his family with a stable future.
Mohamad is now working to bring his sister and her five children to join him in Belgium, where he hopes they can find stability and opportunity after all they’ve endured. This transition, however, requires significant resources that he is currently unable to meet alone.
For privacy reasons, we are not sharing Mohamad’s full name, as he has chosen to keep his identity discreet. While he initially refused the idea of asking for help, I couldn’t stand by and watch him struggle alone. I insisted on doing this for him because he deserves a chance to overcome these challenges.
Your contribution will help Mohamad repay the debt incurred during this difficult time, cover ongoing living expenses for his family, and assist with the costs involved in bringing them safely to Belgium.
Mohamad has been a good friend of mine for years, and I’ve always admired his resilience and generosity. Any support, no matter the size, will make an incredible difference in helping Mohamad and his family rebuild their lives after these painful experiences.
Thank you for reading his story and considering helping a man who has always done everything he can for his loved ones.
Adam
✅ Vetted by Association: @bilal-salah0
Donate & share: Donation Link
I am reaching out on behalf of my dear friend, Mohamad S., who is faci… Adam Bin Ali needs your support for Help Mohamad reunite his family
her contact name in his phones is [yn🫀🤍] <- he choose both, says it's funny bc of their personalities (he likes the hearts)
his lockscreen is their first travel together, hers is kuroo's childhood cat.
yn was from karasuno! met kuroo on her first year, he's a year older
kiyoko knew abt the crush before yn even realized it, she was the one to call her out
yachi realized the first time she saw them interacting. training camp day 1 and yachi goes: "didn't know yn was dating" kiyoko: "she isn't. they are like that" <- it's funny for her
love the idea of kuroo always trying to befriend yachi but he always end up kicking her fight or flight instincts instead (too tall, too friendly, haven't confessed to yn yet; so many aggravations)
yn's aversion towards tokyo is mostly out of fear of the unknown + she's bad at asking for help, so there's always this idea she won't be able to handle it by herself
doesn't stop her friends from always encouraging it tho
to mkc: get out of my head get out of my head.
e.txt: also a/n ig bc I need the ppl to know that I'm fighting for my life to be normal abt this series... "extras will be short" > cuts to me opening ps bc I want the lockscreen to look pretty... I love him so bad. queues post.
December begins, and with it, comes colder nights and quieter mornings for those who live outside the bustling cities of Japan. She realizes that very early on her days living by herself in Matsumoto after high-school, and that self-same atmosphere doesn’t change in all five years she's stuck there for graduation, neither the months that follow.
There’s no sight of the sun in the sky yet when the obnoxious ring of her phone pulls her from sleeping, and she curses herself for not changing it like she does everytime he calls, but as usual, forgets that was even an option as soon as she picks up.
“You’re not calling me at-” she groans, turning to her side to look at her phone, pulling the sheets over her body again, “six in the morning.”
“Good morning, sweetie. Good night sleep?” Kuroo speaks over the other line, as if he has been awake for at least an hour. She doesn’t understand how he still sounds so amused given the amount of times this same scenario repeated itself.
“Stop trying to sweet talk me.” Her voice drags a little, still hoarse.
He hums for a second, “grumpy.”
“You should be used to it,” she sighs when he laughs at the other side, “what do you need?”
“What? Can’t I yearn for a nice chat with my best friend?” He asks, and she hears the sound of his coffee machine on the other side.
If she could guess, he was pouring his second coffee of the day, probably already dressed, leaning against the place in the kitchen he likes so much because it gives a nice view from the balcony of his apartment. She knows that place like the back of her hand, and still, she tries to picture Tokyo covered in snow and isn’t able to.
She sits back in the bed, looks over her window and watches the snow falling quietly over her garden, all her plants dead. She keeps forgetting to plant at least some that could survive the winter.
“Tetsu,” her fingers found her brows, she should go back to sleep. Shame, she’s awake now and the idea of coffee was tempting. When he hums, she stands up from the bed, “go to work.”
“Not until you wish me good luck, you know I need this.” His tone was completely serious.
“As if it does anything.” She walks to her kitchen and slides her fingers in some of her favorite mugs before picking one. “It worked once, in high-school, and I can’t take credit for that win.”
Way back in her second year. Tanaka and Nishinoya kept bugging her about how Daichi and the other’s were excited for their last match against Nekoma, that they don’t know what would happen if they lost against the snakes. After two years of meeting Kuroo, it was easy to guess he would be feeling just as worried.
Back then, it was worth it running from the main arena to his, only to wish him good luck in person. Now, before the sun is even up and over the phone, she starts to reconsider if it was worth picking it up as she starts her coffee. She considers it while she pours water through the coffee filter, and always fall to the same conclusion.
“I need all the help I can get,” he laughs, though she can hear the way it cuts off, half stuck in his throat. He was nervous.
“You don’t really, though.” She gets her mug and sits down on the small table by her kitchen, pulling the vase in the center away to give her enough room.
“Y/n, please-”
“Tetsuro,” she puts the mug down, tone no longer hesitant, “We’ve talked about this before, there’s no need for luck. You worked hard, you got this.” She says with confidence, refusing to give in to his own hesitation. There are very few things she believed more than him.
He sighs on the other end, as if some kind of weight had been taken from his shoulders. The third cup of coffee in his hands, now he realizes, seems like a bad choice, so he throws it away. She hears the sound of the sinks turning on and off in a second before he replies, “I swear, if anything bad happens, I’m blaming you.”
Upon hearing the hint of softness back in his voice, she smiles. “Then I have nothing to worry about.”
Kuroo laughs now, fully, loud enough that it would make her distance her phone from her ear slightly in the very first few years of their friendship. She doesn’t do that anymore.
“Smartass.” There’s the sound of keys messing, door opening, “what are you doing after this?”
“Trying to go back to bed,” she says, finishing her coffe. She knew there was no way she could fall back asleep that fast, but between losing some extra sleep and never receiving morning call from her best friend again, she chose the former.
“After that?” Kuroo calls the elevator to his floor, checking his clock one last time. He was getting off way earlier than he needed, but well, better safe than sorry.
“Wanna guess?” She plays with her empty mug for a while, turning it to one side and the other.
“Job interview?”
“Second one at that office,” she nods, looking over her counter and thinking if she should follow him and get some extra coffee this morning. Maybe that could help her get excited for the long, tedious interview.
Kuroo gets off the elevator and she hears his car alarm before he hums, “you’re not hot for that one, are you?”
She stands up. If even he can tell over the phone, she definitely needs some more caffeine.
“Not at all, but if they want me, I’m taking it.”
“I figured,” he quickly answers, getting inside his car. She finishes pouring the coffee, he closes the door, both lean back in their respective seats. “You really don’t want to try here?”
She laughs quietly, taking a sip, “I don’t have the guts to move to such a big city, Tetsu.”
“You’d have me,” there’s a pause for a second, it makes her take the phone off and look at it to make sure the call didn’t hang. Once it’s back in her ear, she hears softly, “I can help.”
She laughs, says “great, so adding ‘burden to my best friend’ to the list of cons,” but deep inside, something tells her that it would be a hundred times better than drinking coffee by herself in a city she barely knows anyone.
“Y/n…” his voice is graver, as if he was about to scold her for saying that. It warms her more than the hot mug in her hands ever could.
“I know, I know,” she takes the rest of the coffee like it’s some quick shot and puts her mug gently in the sink, before walking back to her bedroom. “I’ll consider it. Is that enough for you to stop procrastinating and go to work?”
It’s six in the morning, Kuroo is on his way to work, she’s on her way back to bed again, and still, they find the time and need to take care where the other lacks. It worked for years, it still does.
“Perfect,” he chuckles quietly, turning on the engine and leaning back on his seat, “I will talk to you later.”
“You will, and bring me good news,” she mimics him, laying back in her bed, and turning to her side, ready to fall back to sleep. When he doesn’t turn off, she chuckles quietly, “love you,” her voice barely audible anymore, but unlike the luck wishes, this one was indispensable.
“Love you too, bye.” His answer more energetic when he hangs up.
⚠︎ CAUTION : k*lling joke, brief mention of throwing up
⚠︎ CONTAINS FORMALDEHYDE : masterlist
⚠︎ WHAT'S PLAYING IN THE LAB: body, mother mother
☠︎︎ the yoriso funeral home is operated by a family friend of yn's! and even though she's a little…off for her word choice, she actually helps grieving people and familes through the process with a lot of care and compassion :)
☠︎︎ mattsun doesn't know shit about shit when it comes to funeral work. but one thing makki knows how to do, is make a good ass resume; he got this job by the skin of his teeth
☠︎︎ yn doesn't hate him, per say, but thinks he is so fucking stupid lmao and it's starting to irk her with how much she has to help him
☠︎︎ mattsun is so obsessed with her though lol, he gets heart eyes with every dark joke and creepy response
☠︎︎ makki and mattsun are roommates! oikawa does not live with them (he refused) and he's the only one out of them to still play volleyball
☠︎︎ first text alludes to jackel's den by @nekozaki (which you should read!!! it's so good!!) makki has no survival instinct and they probably saw the tv static in his head and didn't kill him
☠︎︎ oikawa obviously was a theatre kid and I will not be taking criticism on this. heathers ref <3
☠︎︎ mattsun and yn work together at the funeral home. she's a mortician/embalmer and he is an attendant (which, with the help of google, is he helps create obituaries and sets up services. he doesn't provide the service though, he's kind of the bts worker. please correct me if I'm wrong though, I really tried with my research <3)
☠︎︎ roommates! they all met in college chem and suffered together
☠︎︎ yaku never trusts to leave yn and tendou unattended for more than 2 hours. he's scared of the fuck shit they'll get into
☠︎︎ genuinely the only 2 friends yn has. people are afraid to approach her unsettling aura. weird habits, strange collections, the works…
☠︎︎ yaku regularly gets into fights because it seems like tendou and yn can read each others minds and he has no idea what's going on. they can look at each other and have a whole conversation basically
tw: implied ed/mention of skipping meals/mention of treatment
sleaze playlist
20 Child Actors You Completely Forgot About
She’s number thirteen.
“What the fuck?’ she mumbles under her breath, hanging upside down off her couch, blood rushing to her head and phone held an inch from her face. She scrolls down.
You’ve probably forgotten about the adorable little girl that stole our hearts on screen as Kimura Momo in the long-running drama series, ‘Family Sized.’ After her abrupt departure from the show seventeen years ago, she has not been offered any other roles and has made no notable public appearances, leaving many people to wonder what happened to the child star. No one does seem to know what she's up to these days, however, she is active on Instagram! Look how much little Momo has grown!
There’s a photo of her that seemed fine when she had willingly posted it to her one-hundred-something followers, but now that it’s blasted on some listicle, it is entirely too flawed to be in the public eye. Her with a comically large orange in her hand, comparing it to the size of her head, smiling with her teeth.
How fucking stupid.
Her mother texted her the link with the commentary: “See! People are thinking about you!” As if this is some sort of good thing.
All she wants is for people to stop thinking of her. Entirely. She seethes as she repeats this to herself, angrily copying the link to send to Kenma, fingers slightly trembling.
She closes out the article and opens Instagram, poised and determined to deactivate her account and erase any trace of her on the Internet that’s still left. This is what she’s doing instead of eating breakfast; she was in the middle of making it when her mother sent her the link. And now, her meal sits half-cooked on the counter.
She couldn’t possibly eat it now, she rationalizes. Her stomach is too unsettled, and her skin is crawling. She’s too far passed that point.
Her Instagram account is gone when Kenma’s name pops up across her screen. She answers on the first ring. “Can you believe this shit?” is how she greets him.
In the background, she can hear the sounds of artificial battle from his computer. “Do you want me to get it deleted?” he asks. “If nothing else I’m sure I can at least get you removed from the list.”
She shoots upright at once, and the blood rushes out from her head. “Can you do that?”
“Yeah, all I have to do is send one vaguely threatening email signed Kozume Kenma, CEO. Shitty little sites like that are terrified of legal action,” he tells her, and her phone buzzes against her ear as she speaks. “I’ll literally send it right now if you want me to.”
“Will you please?” she says into the receiver. “It really pissed me the fuck off, and it like, threw off my whole day and now my mom keeps fucking texting me about it, because she wants me to read that stupid script her producer friend gave her and she thinks this is some kind of cosmic sign.”
Kenma sighs on the other side of the phone. “Can you just tell your mom to fuck off? If you don’t wanna do it, then let me.”
“No,” she enunciates harshly. “Stop asking.”
“Fine,” Kenma relents. “I sent the email. Should be taken down by the end of the day.”
“Thank you, I love you,” she says, tone still slightly chastising.
“Whatever.”
Once she hangs up, she pockets her phone, and moves to dump what remains of her breakfast in the trash. Her therapist can scold her for it later. She can’t help that it’s soiled now.
✶⋆.˚
She flops onto the edge of the curb, wrapped up tightly in her fur jacket, lit cigarette in hand, and pouts. It doesn’t really take much to throw her. One article that vaguely implies that she’s done nothing with her life, and her entire day is coated in this heavy, itchy coating of discontentment and anger.
Nothing’s felt right all day.
It’s dark, late now. A chilled wind blows, and she wraps the faux fur around her tighter. It’s this old thing she got at a vintage store. She got it for a discounted price, because they couldn’t get the smell of cigarette smoke out of it. Which doesn’t bother her, because that’s how it would’ve ended up smelling anyways. She doesn’t know if it’s actually faux minx, but it makes her feel less guilty to pretend.
It almost feels like an heirloom. There’s this fantasy she’s concocted that it actually used to belong the grandmother she’s never met, and it got lost in her belongings when she died, before it eventually found its way to the curated vintaged shop where it was fished out of a hidden rack in the back of the store.
Her and the jacket, meant to be.
She takes a drag of her cigarette. Those are the kinds of fate-defined, fantastical stories you have to make up when all you’ve got to show for your family is an over-zealous stage mom and whatever PA was in charge of you on set.
“Hey.”
Her head snaps up. Across the road, sitting on the curb underneath a streetlight, is Miya, elbows resting on his knees and leaned up against the lamppost. She smiles. “Hey,” she calls back to him.
She thinks she can see him smile back at her. She can’t tell; he’s just far enough that she can’t make out the details of his face. “You know, we’ve got to stop meeting like this.”
“You weren’t at lunch today,” she says. He wasn’t, and it was the first thing she noticed. She almost left when she realized it, but decided against it, solely due to how odd it would’ve looked to his staff. “It kinda sucked without you.”
Miya ducks his head, and chuckles. “Yeah, sorry about that. I had to meet with the guy I buy my salmon from. Been kind of chaotic at work lately.”
She shrugs. “Maybe you should work less. That’s working out well for me.”
“Maybe,” he agrees. “And, anyways, I would’ve preferred keeping you company, if that makes you feel any better.”
The wind makes her shake, slightly, but mostly, she can just feel this vibration that runs through her. She puts her cigarette out on the curb beside her. A shiver goes down her spine. “Yeah, it does make me feel better. Thanks, I needed that today.”
The street’s completely empty, and she wonders briefly what would happen if she crossed it. Miya kicks his legs out in front of him. “Rough day?”
She thinks that maybe she’s being dramatic, that maybe she shouldn’t be so effected by an ad-ridden paragraph and a photo pull from her social media on a clickbait site, but she is. And it really, really bothers her. “I hit my peak when I was five. Every day’s a rough day.”
“Could be worse,” Miya tells her. “Could be one of those actors that’s always going online, begging for a reboot. Or reprising your old role for phone commercials.”
She snorts. He’s got her there.
“And I doubt you’ve hit your peak,” he continues on. “You’re what, like twenty-two?”
“I’m twenty-five, you flatterer.”
“See, at twenty-five, you’ve still go your whole life ahead of you,” he continues on. “You’ll hit your peak at least a couple more times. So there’s plenty to look forward to.”
Her heart thumps oddly in her chest. “What’s your name?”
“Osamu,” he responds. “Miya Osamu.”
“I like you, Osamu,” she says, and tries to see if there’s any change in his expression. Maybe his eyes go a bit wide. “I like talking to you.”
His hands are tucked away in the pocket of his sweatshirt. She wonders if he’s knotting them together under there. “Yeah. Yeah, I like talking to you, too.”
She stands, brushing off the back of her jeans. Osamu mimics her across the street, rushing to her feet the second she does. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I hope, ” she says, ready to make her graceful exit back inside her apartment.
“Wait,” Osamu calls after her, and she stops. “If you like talking to me so much, maybe we could talk over dinner sometime? Maybe dinner somewhere I don’t sell food. Or I could make dinner, too. I could do that.”
He’s not as smooth as he was in her fantasies. But the way he sort of stumbles is cute, endearing. And she should say yes, because it’s all she’s been daydreaming about since the second she saw him, taking her order and pretending not to recognize her.
But she’s not sure. The day still feels strange on her skin, and, despite the way her heart skips, she’s not sure if she’s ready for anything to become real.
Osamu looks at her with wide, expectant eyes. “I dunno,” she says. “Ask me again later. I’ll have an answer for you then.”
MOODBOARD: small city girl x big city boy; pining since high-school; overthinkers; learning adulthood together; the detail is from kuroo and falling behind is from yn, see you soon is both; above all else, learning two things: time isn't against you and it never will be + have a home you love, whenever or whoever that might be.
⚲ TOKYO, Japan.
located in the heart of Tokyo; Kuroo's apartment is the perfect blend of the warmth of a home and the contemporary sophistication from our vibrant urban neighborhood, perfect for those in need to start anew.
🛈 3 miles from shibuya; 2 hour train ride to matsumoto.
⚲ MATSUMOTO, Japan
located in the outskirts of Matsumoto; y/n's apartment feels like the perfect example of a traditional home and the stillness of a quiet life, perfect for those in need to unwind themselves.
🛈 10 miles from the center; 3 hour train ride to tokyo.
I hope this message finds you well. My name is Aziz, and I’m reaching out with a heartfelt plea to help my family find safety and reunite with our mother. 😞
The ongoing war in Gaza has torn my family apart. My mother and newborn sister are stranded in Egypt, while I, along with the rest of my sex family members, am trapped in the midst of the genocide in Gaza. We have not only been separated but have also lost our home and are enduring unimaginable hardships. 💔
Your support can make a difference. Whether by reading our story, donating, or sharing our campaign with others, you can help us reunite, find safety, and start anew. 🙏🕊
Thank you, from the depths of my heart, for your kindness, compassion, and solidarity during this difficult time. ❤🍉
oh also (she adds, two hours after the last post) sorry I haven't been as active on here. I know I haven't been interacting as much but things are super busy at school and the academy I teach at (end of school year shit).
on top of that, I've embarked on the time-consuming project of crocheting Christmas ornaments to sell, and I've already spent money on yarn and all the other shit I need so I can't really back down now.
so, yeah. shit's been busy and I've missed interacting with my mutuals. hopefully once the school year ends I will be more active and write more
