Jan 18, 2023
yall so hyped about polls, but ignoring the importance of small images on mobile
seen from China
seen from Russia
seen from Norway
seen from Italy
seen from Germany
seen from Italy
seen from Norway
seen from Türkiye
seen from Spain
seen from Netherlands
seen from Israel
seen from Canada
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from China
seen from Israel
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
yall so hyped about polls, but ignoring the importance of small images on mobile
a day without Liam is so empty
i wanna know what's happening in that mv shooting, is he wearing the blue suit? driving a Ferrari? does he has a shirt on (please don't)
On social media, he goes by the name of G0d. A man without a face, without a voice, nothing but an online presence, albeit heavily guarded and armed. Once or twice found posting in forums, always the same name, always the same style. He’d had multiple impersonators. Each one had their account terminated upon discovery. There was no one else that could go by his name, it had become a trademark, almost copyright if he could legally do so. He was a messiah for those in need. Ranging from government officials to simple cyber bullying. It took him only minutes to collapse an entire system, wipe the memory of a network of computers, anything you ask. Legal, illegal, he had all the tricks up his sleeve. An online hero is what most called him. Typically fighting for the smaller causes unless requested to do otherwise.
He was God.
God in the form of a “good for nothing” twenty six year old male. One still living with his parents because what else could a New York University drop out do?
Little did they know about the bank account he had opened, money slowly pouring in from the odd jobs he did every now and then. Not yet enough to live comfortably, but soon. Plus, it’s not like he didn’t enjoy his mother’s cooking even when it took hours to get rid of the stench. With one leg propped up on top of another, he repeatedly tossed the ball in his hand up at the ceiling, letting it bounce back perfectly into his palm. He could hear his father’s rapid Italian on the phone, a language he could never pick up. His mother’s urdu was hard enough – neither languages needed in a land dominated by English.
“Sam!” The screaming of his younger sister causes the ball to roughly hit his chest. Rubbing the spot, he kicks his door open further to find the sixteen year old standing in front of his room with a phone in hand. His own chimes and Samir finds himself greeted with a text from his sister who’s now beaming in front of him.
“So, what I can tell from this is that,” He’s squinting at the text because he lost his contacts a week ago and glasses were something he was never fond of. “You’re not talking to me because it’s a waste of breath?” Cocking a brow at her he waits expectantly, almost as if a further explanation was needed. He’s not sure how he’s the supposed waste-of-space when his sister resorts to antics like this. There’s more he wants to say but there’s a blaring message on his phone, far more important than his sister’s bullshit.
[ text to: G0d ] You’ve done great things before, do you think you can do it again?
He’s about to reply because of course he can do it again, but before he can there’s a succession of texts that has him catching his breath and immediately closing the door on his angered sister.
[ text to: G0d ] Can you stop a suicide?
[ text to: G0d ] What if it’s actually not a suicide, but a murder?
[ text to: G0d ] You tell me.
[ text to: G0d ] Watch it live. ( link )
Sometimes I realize how much like
Edit: So this is a draft I just kept forgetting to finish…I have no idea what it was meant to say so I want to see the beautiful things you think it was meant to say so Reblog with your own finished part of this sentence.
Is the reply feature still ON?
OMG FOREVER REBLOG LOLZ