#CRISIS O'CLOCK OVER HERE

[nanaskzz]

DAWN ─── Felix has always shown himself to be the most perfect boyfriend, and he proves himself even more so by comforting you in an existential crisis during the night.

TWO o'clock in the morning and the beautiful view of Seoul city at this time is definitely rewarding to watch. The lights bring an inexplicable nostalgia and, at times, some kind of comfort. You wanted that comfort now. Feeling embraced by the simple and banal beauty of life. You've always been the type of person to enjoy moments, but ~right now~ you wanted to disappear.

Your leg swings frantically up and down as you try to lean back in the chair on your living room balcony. It's no use. ~Why is there no point?~, You think. Beautiful views have always made you feel at home, so why doesn't it work now? Maybe it was her worries speaking louder than her feelings. But then you remembered him. You needed ~it~, not just a simple view that continues to shine even if ~its~ shine fades.

Felix was extremely understanding, always prioritizing your feelings, often above his own concerns. You were everything to him, he needed you. And that meant that when you weren't okay, he wasn't okay either. He felt like he needed to take your pain away, pass it on to him, and protect you from all the evil the world pressed upon you. You don't know exactly how it happened, your fears externalized as anxiety. It was as if the small stresses throughout the week triggered a major crisis.

You weren't exactly worried about the root of the problem, but rather the need to feel his arms surround you and sweet words come out of his mouth, wishing for your good regardless of the reason for your evil. He was in the next room, sleeping, oblivious to all his pain. You didn't want to wake him up, he was also going through a busy week due to his comeback with the boys.

You shrank into your seat, wanting the tightness in your chest to stop and your breathing to stop betraying you, failing over and over again. Tears fell uncontrollably down his face and without realizing it, oppressive thoughts took over his subconscious. ~It's your fault, try harder. Weak, get up~. It hurt. It hurt to know that she couldn't count on herself because she would fall apart instantly.

You listened, but ignored the footsteps that silently approached you. Warm, soft hands carefully run down your back, up to your shoulders, caressing them so subtly. Your hair instantly stood on end, you couldn't explain if it was due to relief or more nervousness. Lightly Felix's fingers traced under your chin, where he lifted your face, making you look directly into his eyes - which had such a worried gleam.

No words needed to be said, he just engulfed you in such a comforting hug. That was all you needed to break down once and for all. Loud sobs left your lips, which you struggled to hold back. He stroked your hair, whispering words of comfort into your ear, just as you wished.

─── It's going to be okay, baby. Shh!... I'm here with you.

He speaks softly. You deeply and slowly inhale the scent of the shampoo from his freshly washed hair, making you feel safe and comfortable in your arms. He had this dominance over you, your muscles instantly relaxed just by smelling him and hearing the sweet and, at the same time, deep tone of his voice. You slowly began to calm down, breathing more normally, but you still felt your eyes burning.

His thumbs wiped away your tears as he lightly pulled you away, only to look into your eyes again. He takes the elastic from his own hair to tie his own, which was a little messy from the previous agitation. Felix brushes away the small strands that still rest stubbornly in his eyes. Your eyes closed to appreciate even more the affection that he, without any request, kindly distributed over you.

─── You're going to be okay now, I'm here.

─── ... I'm sorry for keeping you up, I know you're busy this week.

You feel embarrassed, sniffling and looking down at your hands. He holds your hands when he sees you scratch your palm with your nails in a sign of nervousness.

─── I do not care about it. You are more important, my love.

You stare at him, still feeling worried and guilty. He sighs, his heart hurts just seeing your red eyes and slowly breaks when he sees the pain that settles in them. He hugs you again.

─── I would stay by your side until dawn if it meant you needed me until then.

With him by your side, you would be fine.

ⵌ series masterlist

[cheezeybread]

Fluff but I picture Trey making it a point to send or give Yuu whatever sweets they have left after unbirthday parties. Since those happen literally everday... Trey might as well be the feeding Yuu and Grime. Both for thanks after chapter 1 and trying to manage and handle Deuce along with Ace.

Short lil oneshot (I love Trey sm, he's such a fun guy-)

Can be read as platonic or romantic!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

"I wanted you to know that everyone here at Heartslabyul really appreciated what you did for Riddle during his...crisis. So please, take this as a show of gratitude.

-Trey"

The little handwritten note was taped to a little white box, tied together with a little jute cord as neatly as could be. The box itself was given to you by a Heartslabyul student after your last class, the student giving you Trey's apologies for not being able to hand-deliver it himself.

Inside were some decent-sized cherry and walnut tarts, lightly dusted with some powdered sugar.

Needless to say, you and Grim enjoyed them together later that night while doing homework.

That one instance was easy enough to excuse, but then the boxes started showing up more frequently.

Sometimes it would be set out in front of Ramshackle's door waiting for you to stumble upon it after classes, sometimes a Heartslabyul student would hand it to you in the halls again, sometimes Ace or Deuce would give it over begrudgingly, and sometimes Trey himself would bring it over with that friendly, endearing smile of his. The more boxes you received, the more likely it would be Trey to bring them over.

"We had extras left over after the Unbirthday party today, and Rule 27 states that no extra food must be thrown out, or the offending party must stand on their head until the sun winks at them," He would offer as an excuse, throwing you a wink of his own.

Or maybe he would say "I baked some of these as an experiment, I'd love to see what you- and Grim, of course- think about it. Honest opinions, only."

Or maybe "I just felt like taking a walk tonight, and decided to bring you guys something. Ramshackle dorm is eating right, aren't ya'll? How about your teeth? With all these sweets, you can't risk getting cavities. I doubt Headmage Crowley will pay for dental care, ahaha."

Or even just "Take some extra sweets for taking good care of Ace and Deuce. Who knows what sort of extra trouble they'd be getting into if they weren't hanging around you guys all the time."

Excuse after excuse after excuse. Soon enough, it got to the point where his visits would be predictable- around 4 o'clock in the afternoon, after his last class ended. The ringing of Ramshackle's old doorbell would make you smile, knowing who was outside pressing the button.

Opening the door to see- who else?- Trey standing there with a sheepish smile and a box in his hands made you flash him a smile of your own.

"So, what's the deal this time?" You asked with a chuckle, leaning up against the doorway.

"Am I that predictable?" Trey laughed in response "Rule 27 again, would you believe it?" He handed the box to you, and you lowered your hands to give it to Grim, who snatched it out of your hands like the greedy little cat he was and ran off to eat it himself.

"I'm starting to think you're making too much food on purpose, you know," You said "Surely you don't like seeing little old me that much, do you?"

Trey shrugged nonchalantly, his tongue sticking out between his teeth in an open-mouthed grin. What a goofball. "You'd be surprised at how much of an agreeable person you are to see when you're surrounded by a bunch of nitwits all the time!"

"Is that an insult or a compliment?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Who knows," He ran a hand through his hair, adjusting his glasses with his other hand "Maybe you should just start joining me in our dorm more often, save me the trouble of walking all the way out here, you know?" Leaning in closer to you, he added in a conspiratorial whisper "Plus, these sorts of desserts taste a lot better right out of the oven, while they're still warm."

"Oooh, how enticing of an offer," Leaning your head back slightly to look Trey in the eyes, you tilted your head "I'll have to think about it, alright?"

Looking slightly disappointed, Trey covered up the look with another smile "Yeah, yeah, I get it. No problem, you'll text me when-"

"I'm just messing with you, dummy," You put a hand over his mouth, squishing the skin and shaking his head side to side "I'd be more than delighted to, as long as you can convince Riddle not to do his whole 'Off with your head' shtick on me."

Trey stuck his tongue out, making you draw your hand back with a disgusted sound "Mm, no promises on that front, but! I can show you a fun time with Doodle Suit, how about that?"

"Hmmm," Pretending to think about it, you snapped your fingers "Can we use it to prank other students?"

"Hmmmm," He mimicked your expression "Sure, why not?"

"Then you have a deal, Mister Clover!"

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

[markantonys]

What is your ideal Gawyn show intro?

tick tock, it's gawynposting o'clock!!! i love being enabled, thank you :')

okay, so here's what i'm thinking. 3x01 focuses on catching up with our established characters and setting up the main storylines for the season. 3x02 is time for our caemlyn crew to make their grand entrance; the episode title seems to be "a question of crimson" (though this isn't guaranteed) which would be perfect for an andor & elaida intro episode.

3x02 cold open. scene: caemlyn palace nursery 20 years ago. baby elayne (there was allegedly a baby needed on the caemlyn palace set) is snoozing in her cradle with a nurse (lini cameo!) keeping an eye on her. 10ish-year-old galad is there playing with toddler gawyn. elaida enters the room and takes gawyn over to elayne's cradle and explains to him what it means to be her first prince of the sword, then makes him swear the oath we famously hear about in the books, the oath he swore over her cradle when he was just barely tall enough to look into it, "my blood shed before hers, my life given before hers". the audience goes "wow! this is a pretty fucked up thing to do to this 2-year-old" and thus we learn something about both gawyn (was psychologically fucked up at age 2 by being taught to see himself as a tool to protect other, more important people) and elaida (cares a lot about protecting the royal house of andor and has no problem psychologically fucking up 2-year-olds to do it). and there can be other stuff in the scene to tell us a bit about galad and morgase maybe, depending on how big of a role they're going to have in s3.

this is where i would put the opening credits IF I HAD THEM. (hashtag bring back the opening credits in every episode not just the finale you cowards.) now we go to present-day caemlyn, where the fam is discussing their worries that elayne is missing. gawyn in particular is upset about it and is blaming himself (and being blamed by elaida, and maybe even morgase makes some queenly Harsh But Fair remarks), and the audience goes "yep, sure enough, that 2-year-old has grown up to have Issues." and thus, right away, we've been given a point of connection with and sympathy for gawyn as well as an important insight into why he is Like That. this toddlerhood oath-swearing scene is buried in his narration in the books and i think a lot of people miss it or miss its importance, but it is THE formative moment for his character and the key to understanding why he is Like That, and i'd die if it was portrayed directly onscreen via flashback cold open.

meanwhile, elayne, nynaeve, and mat have set off for tanchico from falme, but the rest of the gang is headed for caemlyn (either as a stop on the way to the waste, or as their intended final destination but shenanigans later force them to flee and only then do they decide to go to the waste). perrin goes out and about in the city and hears rumors of trouble in the two rivers, setting him up to branch off from the group by the end of 3x02. egwene heads to the palace, having been tasked by elayne to deliver a letter to her family assuring them she's well, and rand tags along.

but the guards won't let these two hooligans in, so instead they go around back and break in over the garden wall, falling off the wall at gawyn's feet and setting off the biggest bi crisis of his life. egwene has a whole flirty meetcute with a handsome prince while rand, with whom she officially broke up in 3x01, has to bear witness to the whole thing (and this shows the audience that egwene is also moving on, thus soothing them about rand getting new love interests this season), but gawyn is friendly to rand too and defends both of them from galad's bitch ass and all the guards galad tattles on them to.

rand and egwene are hauled off to an audience with morgase and elaida, and gawyn defends them again but obediently shuts up when morgase and elaida tell him to (showing us that he has a good heart but is easily influenced by authority figures, especially elaida - seeing that gawyn tends to obey elaida is a surprise tool to help us later). whole tense convo here where egwene and rand both get to meet their mutual future mother-in-law as well as their mutual future kidnapper, and egwene delivers the letter but then elaida has her ominous foretelling of rand, which calls his and egwene's integrity and thus the veracity of the letter into question. morgase lets them go (against elaida's advice) but doesn't trust the letter (at elaida's advice) and continues to worry for elayne's safety. so, elaida sets off for the white tower to get answers, with gawyn in tow because, as we learned at the very start of the episode, protecting elayne is quite literally his life.

there we have it! a gawyn intro that sets up a ton of important stuff for him (his oaths to elayne, the way he ties his self-worth to his ability to protect people he deems more important than him, his fucked-up mentor/mentee relationship with elaida, his crush on egwene, his friends-to-onesided-homoerotic-rivals arc with rand, his relationships with morgase and galad), gets the audience to understand and sympathize with and maybe even feel fond of him right off the bat, AND doesn't violate any of the handful of tidbits we know about s3 so far. a win-win-win!

this is my ideal version. but there's a couple other possibilities, such as a) we meet gawyn in caemlyn, but rand & co don't go there, so gawyn does not meet egwene until a future season, or b) elaida and morgase have a one-on-one convo in caemlyn (both actresses were leaked to have been on that set, but no word on if the brothers were there) and gawyn isn't introduced until a later scene arriving at the white tower with elaida (and so doesn't meet egwene until a future season).

i'm leaving galad out of the white tower trip for now because i remember musing a while back how it could actually be more effective if it's an elaida-gawyn duo and galad stays home with morgase. both women are important to both brothers' stories, but elaida is more important to gawyn and morgase is more important to galad. gawyn can be alone with elaida doing all the coup stuff, and galad can be with morgase watching her start behaving strangely, not understanding why, and starting to turn to the whitecloaks (because he blames the aes sedai for elayne's disappearance, because he's afraid morgase is losing her grip and starting to do andor harm, and maybe because morgase was compelled to treat him cruelly and kick him out a la bryne* in the books and he feels he has nowhere else to turn to). gawyn/elaida/tower + galad/morgase/whitecloaks feels like two logical groupings, and in that regard keeping galad in caemlyn could allow for more efficient storytelling than sending him to tar valon. and the galad/morgase/whitecloaks storyline could be held until s4, leaving galad and morgase as just 1ish-episode characters in s3, or it could be another s3 subplot if they want to speed things along. there's also a chance galad could already be a whitecloak and is in the two rivers storyline with dain, but i would prefer that not be the case because my opinion is it's important to his character for us to see him start normal and then get radicalized into the whitecloaks. plus, galad has SO little content in the books that the show is absolutely fine to stretch his stuff out a bit, they don't need to rush to have him already be a whitecloak at the start of s3.

*i've also made these theories with bryne being cut, since i have elaida take his place in gawyn's oath-swearing and galad take his place as the big bridge burned by compelled!morgase. i have no idea whether he actually WILL be cut or not (though i'm 99% confident his romance with siuan is off the table even if he's in), but he feels like a character where it's easy to divvy their stuff up among other more important characters. mat and bashere have us covered for Great Generals, thom has us covered as morgase's ex with whom things ended badly, and egwene could get soldiers from another source (or could even have her army simply be aes sedai and warders).

[mixelation]

i took a cursed evening nap so now im up at early af o'clock. have some reborn au. minato pov, him being a dad and also a wife guy

takes place while kushina is in iwa

****

Minato arrived home close to midnight. All the lights were on. 

Maybe Naruto does need a babysitter, Minato thought, switching off the entrance hall light. Eight was old enough for a ninja in training to walk home alone and hang out for a few hours, but it was becoming obvious Naruto still wasn’t old enough to get himself to bed properly. 

Naruto would throw a fit if Minato walked back on his assessment that Naruto was mature enough to take care of himself. He’d been so proud of himself. Minato wished Kushina were here to discuss the idea. 

Naruto was, predictably, passed out on the couch, the TV still on at full volume. Minato switched it off, surveying the mess Naruto had left on the coffee table. Two comic books, half-read and left open. His textbook shoved aside with his homework, half done, pencils and his eraser strewn across the table. An empty instant ramen cup, because Minato had been having a lot of late nights and they’d gone through all the meals he’d prepped and frozen with Kushina before her departure. 

Minato closed and stacked the comic books, lined them up neatly with Naruto’s textbook and set his half-finished homework on top. He tossed a blanket over his son, who shifted and pressed his face further into the couch cushion. Minato watched him for a moment, empty ramen cup in hand. 

He felt guilty. Between a crisis with a patrol group disappearing near the Water Country border (now resolved), some drama with the Daimyo’s first son, Danzo trying to creep into ANBU control again, and the Iwa mission, he hadn’t seen Naruto awake in days. He didn’t want to get Naruto another babysitter. He wanted to come home and make dinner and check over his son’s homework and put him to bed himself. 

Minato would never, ever pull Kushina from a mission she wanted to do, but he always struggled with her away. Together they were such a good team for Naruto, but Minato could barely keep up when he was by himself. 

Minato moved to the kitchen, switching off the living room light as he went. When he tossed the instant ramen cup, there were two bell pepper cores in the bin, so at least Naruto had obeyed the rule that he had to have at least one fresh vegetable with his ramen. (He had, of course, picked the two orange peppers out of the multicolored pack.)

One of the peppers was still out on the counter, cut in half and abandoned with a paring knife on a cutting board. Minato sliced it into strips as he waited for water to boil for his own instant ramen. 

He sat down at the kitchen table and heard shuffling from the living room. Naruto appeared in the kitchen doorway a few moments later, hair mussed and eyes bleary with sleep. 

“Dad?”

“Hey, kid,” Minato greeted. “Wanna sit with me?”

Naruto crawled into the chair next to him, hand automatically going for the plate of bell pepper pieces Minato had set out. 

Minato thought about chastizing him for not finishing his homework, or telling him he had to be more responsible or Minato would have to get a babysitter afterall. But Naruto was sleepy and Minato hadn’t had a real conversation with him in days, and this seemed unnecessarily cruel. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around this week,” Minato said instead. “Why don’t you come up to the office after class tomorrow?”

At first he wasn’t sure if Naruto was awake enough to hear him, as the kid just chewed, expressionless, for several seconds. 

“Are you going to make me sit in that backroom and do homework?” Naruto asked eventually, shooting Minato a betrayed look. 

“Well…” Minato said slowly. Ideally he’d have all his confidential meetings early, so that Naruto could sit with him while he did homework and Minato did boring nonclassified paperwork. But he couldn’t always guarantee that’s how his days would go. 

In some ways, it was easier when Naruto was a baby. He never had to worry about baby Naruto reading over his shoulder or sneaking into the vents to spy on meetings. But now Naruto was big enough to have his own ideas and opinions, to have goals and hobbies and personality quirks, and Minato loved watching him grow and learn so much, but this also meant he sometimes had to banish Naruto to a backroom. 

“Dad?” Naruto asked, squinting at him. 

“Ah, well, maybe?” Minato admitted. “But we could get take-out for dinner, and… sneak away for a bit for training…?”

The Water Country border thing was resolved now, so he should almost definitely be able to swing that, barring some new crisis. 

He smiled hopefully at Naruto, who still looked doubtful. Kushina was Naruto’s favorite parent for training, because Kushina was better at putting things in terms Naruto understood and was better at making things into games. But it wasn’t like Naruto didn’t like training with Minato, and Minato definitely had better and cooler kunai tricks. He just had to remember Naruto didn’t like hearing about the math behind them, nor did he really need to know the math no matter how interesting Minato thought it was. 

And Naruto definitely liked Minato pretending they were very sneakily evading ANBU and secret guards when he’d teleport them to a training field. 

“I want Ichiraku,” Naruto said finally. 

“Deal,” Minato agreed. “Now go brush your teeth and put on real pajamas.”

Naruto scampered off, and Minato hand washed his chopsticks and the cutting board and knife. He could get them both up early and cook a real breakfast and make Naruto finish his homework, and ask him how school was… 

Naruto knocked on his bedroom door some time later. 

“Umm…” Naruto started, tugging at the hem to his shirt nervously. “I’m too big for nightmares, you know… but, um…” 

Minato raised his eyebrows as Naruto continued to fidget. He’d left the kid alone for too many nights. 

I have to do better, Minato promised himself. I could at least send Kakashi by to check on him…

“Do you want to sleep with me tonight?” Minato asked when Naruto continued to bluster. 

“If you say so,” Naruto replied, ducking under his arm and making a beeline for Kushina’s side of the bed. 

Minato took a quick shower, and by the time he was out, Naruto was passed out, sprawled across the bed like it was his own. Minato rolled his eyes affectionately as he gently moved Naruto’s arm so he had enough room. He leaned over his son, giving him a quick peck on the temple. 

Minato laid awake for a bit, staring at the ceiling and listening to Naruto breathe. He missed Kushina. He missed giving her a kiss goodnight. 

xXx

“Can’t you just give me a note?” Naruto whined. Minato had set out his homework for him at the dining room table and assigned Naruto to finish it while he cooked. “Sensei would never question it…”

“So you want special treatment?” Minato asked, spatula in hand. 

“...no,” Naruto said after a beat. He scowled, but he picked up his pencil. 

Minato didn’t have time to make the most inspired lunch for Naruto, but he was at least able to send him to school with a complete homework set and a homemade bento. He needed to find time to do another mass meal prep. Naruto was old enough to help him now; he could make it a fun father-son thing…

The day was more relaxed than the previous one, in terms of problems he was juggling. Danzo came in early and did not admit to overexerting control and interfering in the ANBU roster, but he told Minato his handling of the border thing was “adequate if not soft-handed.” Which was… nice, for Danzo? What the hell was he supposed to do with that?

Maybe trying to force him to retire had been a bad idea. For one, it hadn’t worked. For another, a bunch of older admin and some pockets of ANBU had threatened to walk and that had gone directly to Danzo’s head. So. 

Ugh, Minato thought. Was he too soft?

A message from Kushina arrived late morning and cheered him up. It was an official missive from Iwa recognizing all three members of Team 4 had passed to the final stage of the exam. This was good news, but it also meant their mission would run another month. Iwa had very conspicuously not included the usual invitation for him as a Kage with participating genin to come in person and watch the tournament. Even though it was customary, that option had been off the table since they’d started negotiations. 

They also included a note from Kushina. It covered the front and back of a page: a long, rambling report of how the exam had gone and what their accommodations were like. Halfway through she started speculating what Iwa ramen shops might be like, and Minato pulled the old academy textbook that matched the cypher from a bottom drawer on his desk. It was his own copy, and it had a note in the back from Kushina calling him a nerd and threatening to punch him in the nose. He smiled absentmindedly at it before he flipped through it for the right page. They used this code so often he didn’t need it, but it never hurt to be thorough. 

Security high, Kushina had written. Nothing suspicious. 

She hadn’t gone into her actual, secret mission, because there was no guarantee an Iwa codebreaker wouldn’t find her note. Instead it read like a normal assessment about their public goal of passing the exam. The fact that she raised no alarm was good, though. Kushina was still confident. 

At the bottom she’d let her students write their own notes. Itachi had attempted to fit an actual report, written in tiny barely legible letters, followed by: Send regards to my brother. 

Eloquent as always, Minato thought. He could see Itachi’s eye twitching as Kushina wrote the report without his input. Ah, well, this was good practice for him. 

Deidara had written a cheeky note about finding out about Konoha hazard pay and insinuating this trip should qualify. Tori’s note was: You know the Junko vs Princess Hinamori fight? Like that. 

Minato frowned. Princess Hinamori was the main antagonist from Jiraiya’s latest book, who agreed to let Junko honor-fight her for the love interest’s release if Junko met her at her winter castle. Princess Hinamori’s court witch had then used several manipulative jutsu so that Junko lost all her supplies on her journey, forcing her to fight exhausted and without weapons. Junko had won anyway, after she broke into her lover’s cell and had two chapters worth of inspirational sex with him. (And then, after she won, she’d had a threesome with her lover and the beautiful handmaiden who’d snuck her food to help her recover from her trip.)

So… had Iwa not given them the promised weapons? And why was a twelve year old reading Icha Icha? Kushina didn’t seem worried, but now Minato was. 

By the time Naruto showed up, Minato had sent the report off for analysis and redacted a photocopy that he could give Naruto. Naruto, dragging his feet into the office with a look of great burden on his face, immediately perked up. 

“Iwa doesn’t sound very fun,” Naruto concluded after reading the letter, puzzling over Kushina’s messy handwriting in places. “And she has to stay there a whole month?”

“I miss her too,” Minato told him. “And she probably can’t list all the coolest stuff she’s doing. You’ve learned about how you can’t say everything in written communications, right?”

Naruto’s nose crinkled in thought. “Because, um… someone else could steal your letter.”

“That’s right,” Minato agreed. “You know your mom. She’ll find the coolest parts of Iwa and come home and tell us all about it. And just think, she’ll have a whole month's worth of stories.”

Naruto nodded very seriously. “Sasuke says there’s no way his brother could lose to Iwa-nin.”

Minato laughed. “Itachi is… special,” he agreed. 

“Itachi's a weirdo,” Naruto muttered. “He’s not going to come home and tell cool stories. Ugh, but Sasuke will talk about him like he did…”

Naruto whined, and Minato gently directed him at his homework. Minato had left organizing and reviewing D-ranks for the last task of his day, which was both boring and unimportant enough that it wouldn’t matter if Naruto spied on him. He cleared a portion of his own desk for Naruto to use, sitting across from him.  

Naruto did not have any written homework today, but he was meant to read a chapter of his history book. Upon questioning, Minato realized that Naruto had skipped reading the previous chapter. 

“It’s boring,” Naruto complained. “You’d think war could be cool, but the way the book talks about it is confusing.”

“First, war is not cool,” Minato disagreed.

“I want to read about the war with Iwa,” Naruto said, flipping ahead in the book. Minato reached over and covered his hand to stop him. 

“It’s not going to make sense unless you read the chapters on the Second Shinobi War first,” he said. “Read that, and I’ll answer any questions you have when we go to Ichiraku.”

Naruto rolled his eyes, but he paged back to the chapter he’d skipped. 

They ended up at Ichiraku late, and Minato would have to go in for a few hours on Saturday morning, but it looked like he might actually get a free weekend. Small miracles. 

Naruto had been bored to tears by the causes and consequences of the Second Shinobi War, and he got grouchy when Minato quizzed him on it to make sure he understood. Naruto did have a lot of interested questions on the key battles section. Was Old Man Hiruzen really that strong? (Yes, he really was.) Were the Iwa Demolition Corps as scary as they sounded, and should he be worried about Mom? (Yes, they were scary, but Kushina was scarier, and she knew even more defensive fuinjutsu than Minato.) Why didn’t Konoha have a group of elite swordsmen like Kiri? 

“That’s a good question,” Minato said. “Hey, I think your mom met one in Iwa.”

“Awesome,” Naruto declared. 

Training right after a big meal was a bad idea, but they sat in the backyard with a plate of persimmon slices (a Naruto-approved orange fruit) and threw kunai at a target for a while. Naruto didn’t have a lot of natural talent with kunai, but at least for physical stuff, he’d never shied away from hard work. He reported gleefully that he’d finally broken into the top ten in his class for aim. 

“Sasuke better watch his ass!” Naruto declared after his second bullseye of the night.

“Language,” Minato reminded him. “Also, watch your elbow when you throw.”

Naruto barely fought him about going to bed on time. Minato spent a little time alone, leafing through the Princess Hinamori saga in bed. He thought the conclusion of this book was some of Jiraiya’s best writing, but the start of the book was slow. Kushina had hated it and never gotten through the first few chapters. Naruto really took after her… 

Minato sighed and set the book aside, leaned back against the bed’s headboard. Could he really go another month without Kushina? More than a month, even, because of travel time, and that was assuming everything on her side went smoothly. He hadn’t been away from her for that long since the war. 

He closed his eyes, concentrating on his Hiraishin marker network. He couldn’t sense what was around them or distinguish them by anything but geographical location, but he didn’t have any other markers that deep into Earth Country. There was Kushina’s, nestled into her bijuu seal and hidden, further away from him than she’d ever been… 

He was tempted to go check on her. It would be so easy to go see her, hold her, kiss her goodnight just for a moment. This was a stupid idea, of course, because spontaneously appearing in Iwa could ruin everything. Plus, Kushina had already communicated very strongly to him that she didn't want special treatment on missions. She’d vetoed both visits for goodnight and morning kisses years ago. 

And if he did it once, he knew it’d get harder and harder to resist in the future.  

He scooted down under his covers, rolled over and buried his face in Kushina’s pillow. It still smelled of the conditioner she used on her hair. 

Maybe when she was out of Earth Country on her way home, he could go to her. He knew she must miss him too. Surely no one would mind if he showed up. He could offer to teleport her genin home early, and then he could have all the time alone with her that he wanted… like Junko’s lover letting her ravish him as part of her victory… 

[hyuuukais]

.・゜-: ✧ :- FICTIONAL REALITY .・゜-: ✧ :-

pairing • bang chan x fem reader

synopsis • fiction or reality? y/n preferred the former, escaping into another world, escaping her problems. so what happens when reality takes that away from her; wiping her own story-in-progress off both her laptop and beloved usb? and what happens when she opens the door in the middle of a crisis to none other then the love interest of her novel... and he's holding her usb?

warnings • general, y/n scared of thunderstorms, mentions of abuse

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER THREE • LATE NIGHT (2.1k)

Nine o'clock hits, and you lock the doors to your little bookshop.

No, it wasn't actually yours, but it had been so long since Mrs. Yang had popped by that it felt right to claim it as your own. Her grandson, Jeongin, also worked there, a rare sight. He tends to work the weekends you had off, busy with school the rest of the time. A nice boy, not one for small talk. At least, not with you.

As you're cleaning up misplaced books and discarded coffee cups, a distant pattering fills the room; it's started to rain. If it weren't so dark out already, you'd be fine, and if it weren't so windy, maybe you wouldn't have started worrying. You didn't live too far driving, but your car had broken down, forcing you to walk forty minutes to and from. The last thing you want is to walk in the rain.

Cleaning went quickly as the day was surprisingly quiet, and you were out by a quarter after, locking the doors again behind you. Above the bookshop was a little apartment for rent, and you can't help but think of how much more convenient it would be to live there. But your house was important, inherited from your grandmother. It was strange, you didn't even know the woman that well, she never left town to visit you or your family growing up. There were only a few times you can recall ever coming here, much too young to remember details. It never made sense to you why she left her home to a stranger.

But the house... doesn't feel like a home. Not to you. It was cold and creaky, worn down and grey. And it was an escape. For you, for your grandmother too, perhaps, somewhere away from everyone and everything. With the little forest kitten to keep you company, why move in here? You'd been up there before. It was small but had large windows looking out onto the street, and it was cozy. People would think you were crazy- well, crazier- for downsizing so much.

Rain hits your forehead lightly as you walk without an umbrella, having left it at home in the sunny morning. Most lights are dimmed or off, people heading home for the night just like you or cleaning up their workplaces. One place is still bright though- the café. Your heart skips a beat. Chan is inside wiping down the counter, waving goodbye to an employee as she leaves. He tosses the towel onto his shoulder, leaning back with his eyes closed, a content look across his features, strong arms visible in the tightfitting white shirt-

Y/n, what the fuck?

Many times over the past two weeks you found yourself drifting into thoughts of Chan. Something about his presence was so comforting, you couldn't help but think of what it would be like to be with him. Cuddling in his arms, warm and secure. Doing basic tasks, like the dishes or laundry, him coming up behind you to press a gentle kiss to your temple. You have no idea what's wrong with you; you've known this man for less than a month! Well, technically you've known him for... three years? It confuses you. This whole thing is confusing.

Since you last saw him, there have been no updates on the USB. It no longer showed the last message either, just a blank document you can't type on. It was useless. There haven't been many sightings of what you've deemed 'the Shadow', either. Once, it had been at the edge of the forest again, and another time you could have sworn you saw it pass your kitchen window. It never approached you directly, always staying far away. When you caught it in the window, it left quickly, probably thinking you weren't home. You can't shake the sense of familiarity... but you can shake the thoughts from your head, at least, for now.

Focusing on walking past the café with your eyes straight was the goal. Unfortunately for you, the rain started getting harder. And harder. And harder. Until you had no choice but to enter the café as you pass the doors. Shivering, you give Chan a weak wave. His eyes widen at the sight of you, immediately coming around the counter and holding you by the shoulders.

"What the hell, Y/n? You're shaking!" Chan tries to dry your hair with the small towel, but it's no use, you're soaked. "You must be freezing. Is that hail? Come, sit by the counter, yeah? I was just about to lock up."

"I-I can go," your voice was barely above a whisper, already getting up from the stool he sat you on. "It's only... another half hour? I just needed a second-"

"No way. Sit back down right now." Chan turns, putting his keys in his pocket. "I live just upstairs, if you're comfortable I can give you some spare clothes. Take my bed, I'll sleep on the couch."

"Uh-uh." It's your turn to protest. "I'll call a cab or something. Please, I don't want to bother you."

"You're not bothering me! You could never." He looks at you so fondly, you forget yourself for a moment. "Now, let's go upstairs so you don't catch a cold. Follow me!"

Reluctantly, you follow. As you head to the doors leading to his office, there's a crash of thunder and a bang on the main doors. Both of you turn around quickly, and you freeze, not from the cold this time. The storm is bad enough, but what's worse is what you see beyond the doors.

The Shadow.

Your eyes widen, stuck to the spot as Chan walks past you, muttering something about people past close. He's trying to yell through the glass, but the Shadow isn't moving, it doesn't even seem to notice him, staring at the ground by his feet. Up close, you can see reddish hair dripping down from the hood obscuring its face. When it finally does look up, it's not looking at Chan, but at you. The collar of its jacket is high, covering the bottom half of its face. Its eyes are piercing, and familiarity strikes you again.

A hand smacks against the door, holding a wet paper against the glass. The rain is too heavy, you can't make out what it's supposed to say. It points at you, smacks its hand against the window again, then points to its own hand. You're entranced by its eyes, trying to place them-

"I'll call the cops if you don't leave!" Chan yells, holding up his phone, and that's what it takes to bring you back to the present.

"Chan," you grab his arm. "Let's just go upstairs."

"What, and leave this guy banging on the door? He's gonna break the glass!" He looks at you in disbelief. "And the way he keeps staring at you? No. No way. You can't seriously th-"

"I've seen it before!" You snap, closing your eyes and breathing deeply through your nose as more thunder sounds. "I'm more freaked out by the thunder than this thing. It's not gonna do anything. All it's ever done is stare, it's not gonna start breaking things now."

"It...? I-" Seeing your expression, Chan softens his tone. "Okay... I believe you."

Gently, he leads you through the doors, glancing back to see the thing roll its eyes in frustration, furrowing its brow before walking away into the night.

Once upstairs, Chan quickly gives you clothes to change into, giving you time to shower and call anyone who may be awaiting your arrival at home. The sensation of warm water hitting your skin almost cures the chill you have from seeing the Shadow so close. It's never approached you with another person around. The closest to seeing it in public was as you opened the shop one day, seeing it stare from across the street, fearing it coming any closer. But it didn't. Until now.

Of course, you have no one to call, so you emerge soon after drying off. Chan's apartment is laid out similarly to the one above the bookshop, and you settle down on the couch looking out the window. The mix of rain and hail rages on, but the thunder is more distant now. Lights flicker, then completely turn off. Chan comes out from his bedroom with a few candles, placing them on the table and lighting them quickly.

"Scared of thunderstorms?"

You shake your head. "More like... scared of what thunderstorms can produce? Like, tornados and all the damage after. I don't know, it's silly."

"It's not silly." Chan sits back, looking at you like you offended him personally. "It's not silly at all. We all have fears."

"My ex said it was silly."

"Fuck him then, yeah?"

"Yeah," you laugh, surprising yourself. "Fuck him."

"Doesn't sound like a very nice guy," Chan leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he gazes at you. "How did he get someone like you to fall for him?"

"Well he wasn't always bad," you say quickly. "He started out really, really amazing. Obviously, that didn't last or-"

Thunder causes you to jolt, sitting up straighter than before. You don't notice Chan scooting closer until you feel his hand on yours.

"Is this okay?" He asks, voice low.

Unable to reply, you intertwine your fingers. The wind pounds against the glass next to you, a mix of rain and hail coming down aggressively. Subconsciously, you move closer to Chan, seeking comfort from the harsh weather. Your body and mind were at odds - one craving the touch of another human being, the other screaming for solitude.

"Chan I-" You start, but he's already moving in. "Stop."

A hand on his chest, his on your shoulder, breath mingling.

"I'm sorry Y/n," he backs up, taking both hands away. "I-I didn't mean- shit, Y/n I don't know what I was thinking-"

"Just stop," you plead, squeezing your eyes shut, mind racing, heart pounding. "We barely know each other. I'm not ready."

"It's been a year."

"What?" Your eyes snap up to him, his expression blank. How could he have known that? The most you've told anyone here about your past relationship was that it ended badly, no specific details, and that was to the stray kitten.

"It's been a year, Y/n, isn't that enough?" Chan tilts his head, eyes a dark void. "You can't seriously be that hung up on him." He leans back on the couch, a whole different demeanor. "What was so great about him? The way he yelled, the sting of his hand? How in the world could you miss that?"

"Screw you, Chan."

You get up to leave, but a hand wraps around your wrist.

"Hey, hey, hey," Chan looks at you, concern written all over his face. "What's wrong?"

"Are you serious right now?" You glare at him, yanking your arm out of his grip and grabbing his store keys off the coffee table. "I'm leaving."

"What? You can't go out in this! Especially not when you're acting so strange." Chan blocks the door. "You just kind of spaced out after taking your hand back. That's not a sign of hypothermia, is it? After being in the rain?"

"Um, I don't think so?" Saying you're confused would be an understatement. "Still- let me go, I wanna go home. Please?"

He sighs, rubbing the back of his head. Finally, he moves, letting you rush down the stairs, following behind closely. He's about to unlock the door, but pauses.

"Can I drive you?"

"Oh- sure," you step back so he can open the door fully, then follow him out.

The force of the rain is almost enough you knock you down, and you have to hold onto Chan's arm. His car is parked around the back, giving some shelter between buildings. It's hard to see, but you keep an eye out for the Shadow in case it decided to stick around, but there was no sign of it. You were grateful the drive to your house wasn't long, and you were there in no time. Part of you wanted to invite Chan inside, silently forgive him for words he never said, allow him to see you. But you couldn't. You needed to give yourself space to think.

"Thank you for the ride... and sorry for freaking out," you say quietly, staring at your feet. "I have a lot going on right now."

"Don't apologize," Chan breathes out. "We all have something, right?"

"Right," you smile tightly. "Have a good night."

"Yeah, you-"

But you're already out the door, getting re-soaked, the rain only getting harder. Once you're inside, you take a second to breathe, back against the door. It's not long before there's a loud knock, startling you off of it. Assuming it's Chan, you open the door, maybe you forgot something?

But it's not Chan. The Shadow snatches the air from your lungs, your eyes widening past what should be humanly possible. You can't speak, you can only stare as water drips down both your faces, the sound of the storm fading away, leaving only you and it. It takes its hood off and lowers the collar of its jacket. Staring at you now is a man you haven't seen for a long time-

"Minho?"

-

notes • minho ?!?!?!?!?!!? what are u doing here ! and how does y/n know him?

taglist • @yongbbokkie @chaeryred @tenebrisirae @toplinelix @chansdoll @amaranth-writing

TAGLIST CLOSED

[sadhappylady]

1, 6, 13 and 17 pls <3

Thank you so much for the ask!

Please, people, send more. My answers will be a little slow, because I don't have a good system, but I'll get to them eventually.

1.            favorite fanfic of all time

I will be unoriginal and say Everybody Loves You Now by @im-a-king-baby. It's just amazing. But Language of roses by despassurlaneige and That's how you make history, baby by waybeforeyourtime are close behind, I guess.

6.            favorite one-shot fanfic

There is no doubt about this one. It's The Upgrade by @groenendaelfic . (It's 12k, though. Does it really count? Yes, it does!)

13.          christmas fic recommandation

Oooh! I like this! I was thinking of making a list, actually, but didn't have the energy yet. But here you get it kind of from the top of my head (not rated)

1. not if it's you by @prince-simon

Nanny!Simon AU and Christmas kid fic that is totally cute, but stays just at the right side. (Kids are people, which means they are annoying and needy and have bad days, just like you and me, and I can't with the fics where they are always behaving and always cute. Sorry, a me issue!)

2. merry crisis by pysanky

Part of the third year things series, which I adore. Not a very merry one, but who says Christmas is always merry? Simon and Wilhelm are totally happy spending their time together. Why do they have to spend Christmas with their respective families?

3. 'Tis the Damn Season by littelbluefish

Seriously super cute getting back together fic, set during Christmas. Aged-up characters, and some really great original characters, that we unfortunately don't see enough of. 

4. Make the yuletide gay by @cloudywilmon

A Christmas fake dating fic for you, my loves! Wille is convinced to help Sara out by pretending to be her boyfriend over Christmas. A splendid idea until he meets Sara's brother, Simon.

5. Almost Is Never Enough by This_time_its_just_me

Ok, this is not a Christmas fic. But there is this super cute, very fluffy Christmas celebration part that I just love, between all the angst and pining etc.

17.          the most reread fic of your year

I have no idea actually. Sometimes I read other people' rec lists, and I'm reminded of a fic that I haven't read for a long time, but really loved. Or I wake up at 4 o'clock and can't fall asleep, and I start thinking about something from a fic I read, and get the urge to go find it again. That's what happened last night with this one: You Have Reached the Voicemail Box of... by @zee-has-commitment-issues. I don't really keep track of how many times I read fics, even though I reread fics regularly. Sorry 🤷

Adding these, as well, to promote some less known writers and fics:

the last writer you suscribed to on AO3 ? NenasMom

the last work you suscribed to ? I think that was Where Have You Been All These Minutes? by NenasMom ☝️, I love it so far!

your last bookmark ? 'Tis the Damn Season by littelbluefish (the Christmas fic I recommended)

[m0chigang]

April Wrap Up ✨

I have my iPad back, I can get back to books I really really really wanted to read, but I had a hard time picking up some books bc I was too focused on fanfics (I blame Ben Barnes). As always, spoiler alert just in case.

1. Circe - 5/5

LISTEN I AM A CHANGED WOMAN. I HAVE NEVER FELT THE FEELINGS I FELT IN THIS BOOK. My heart broke and restored at the same time, I was sadly happy, happily sad. Like... I felt my heart physically rip with the last chapter. Madeline Miller is already the owner of my wallet, I will pre-order everything she writes and I will cry when the time is right. I think I liked this more than The Song of Achilles...

2. As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow - 5/5

I was halfway through the book and I cried 4 times... FOUR TIMES AND THE BOOK WASN'T OVER. The plottwist made it a 5 star immediately. I remember thinking "this better not happen" and BAM! my world changed. The romance was just so innocent and beautiful, and then you had the most terrible things happen 2 lines later and you came back to reality. It makes you think of the world and what really matters. And the book is so hopeful. I love it.

3. The Six Deaths of the Saint - 4/5

The only reason it is not a 5 star is because I NEEDED MORE. Bro this was so beautifully written. I usually can't stand 2nd person POVs, but in this book it had a purpose that left me SHOOK. The way the violence and war was written here was beautiful. I need more.

4. The Year of the Witching - 4/5

A friend told me to read it. I loved it. I was shooketh by it, and I want more. Bring Lilith to ANY book and I will read it. Ezra is literally the bestest man I have ever read?? Let me marry him?? I was kind of expecting a non-happy ending, but then we wouldn't have a sequel. ALSO *spoiler* I would have let everyone die and join the witches with the condition that Ezra stayed alive.

5. The Midnight Library - 3.5/5

Ngl, I read this because of BTS, but last time I did that I found one of my favourite books so I had to read it. It made me understand the song Zero O'clock better. As for the book itself, it has an interesting concept, but it made me have mini existential crisis? Which I didn't like?? It did feel like a help book but I was not the target audience for it, it was good, but it is not the way I see life.

[oldandkindasad]

Yet another uncalled for Red Dead Daycare AU because I'm sad....

Enrolling my kid in PreK am having a literal crisis about it....

The Dads Quiet Day In...

The first time they dropped off Arthur, they were stoked on the drive

Then a pair of aqua blue eyes looked up at his dad's in absolute terror.

The guilt tore them apart.

Dutch was biting the inside of his lip to keep getting emotional

Hosea was inwardly screaming the entire time.

Both ensured their son they'd be back later.

They drive home in absolute silence.

They open the front door, having made so many of Dutch's famous plans of what they were going to get down without a child underfoot.

Instead they just sit on the couch, don't bother with the TV, they just remain silent.

It's entirely too somber. Where they always this quiet?

Finally after realizing this is only for part of the day (he wasn't in a prison, it was Daycare for God's sake!) They finally begin to function like normal humans.

Until Dutch nearly trips in the hall over Arthur's trucks.

Or Hosea finds his sock hidden in with their laundry.

It seemed like every activity kept Arthur at the very forefront of their mind.

Was he okay?

Were the other kids being kind to him?

Were the teachers being kind to him?

And hell if they'd be able to squeeze blood from a stone easier than Arthur would tell them that something was wrong.

Hosea notices how often Dutch is checking his phone for an update, like he could will a phone call if he glared at it hard enough.

By noon they pick at their lunches, how the hell do parents do this? Because they wanted to climb the walls or go charging into that daycare and bring their boy home.

Which technically they could.

But the real question was would Arthur acclimate if they keep bringing him home?

The phone rings at one o'clock, Dutch is both impressed with his ability to will it to ring and terrified by what it could mean?

It's just a courtesy update, Arthur was just fine. He was stacking blocks and he colored them a picture he wanted to show them when he came home.

They have both never been so relieved and yet so heartbroken in their lives.

They had adopted him only a year ago, but he'd come to rely on them so much

Now...

Now he was handling the world all by himself.

Making his own decisions.

His own friends.

Soon he'd learn that Dutch wasn't the smartest man in the world (which Hosea would have gladly told him).

Or that Hosea wasn't the funniest (which Dutch would have gladly told him otherwise).

Now they weren't the center of the universe.

The house is quiet again as they both think about what that means to them...

By three they've violated just about every traffic law they could think of to get to that daycare and pick up their son.

He grins wide and rushes at them with the speed only a four year old can muster.

They wrap him up in their arms telling him how much they missed him. And how glad they were to see him.

He shows them his picture.

It's a..... ("What the hell is that?" "I don't know Dutch, just smile and call it masterpiece.")

Horse! It's a horse! Of course it is!

It hangs on the refrigerator for years.

Okay I swear unless actually asked for, I will not post another one of these. I just enrolled my son in PreK and I've been pacing around my house ready for a full scale panic attack. He hasn't even started yet. Ugh. Okay no more unless y'all have special requests. I'm just gonna "sit here and feel sorry for myself."

[helmort]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑰𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒏 𝑾𝒉𝒐 𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝑬𝒍𝒐𝒏 𝑴𝒖𝒔𝒌⭐(Friday's Tale)

On the frigid morning of January 1, 2024, an ungodly hour past midnight, Elon Musk found himself knee-deep in the ultimate glitch. Picture this: London on the horizon, a pivotal conference at the ungodly hour of 6 a.m., and an unforeseen digestive apocalypse curtesy of some dodgy sushi. His plush ride turned into a war zone, and the richest, most powerful man on Earth discovered a new definition of rock bottom – he'd shitted himself.

The streets teemed with life, paparazzi sniffing for their next scoop. A crisis unfolded. Hotels, no refuge. Commerce, on pause. Jammed phone lines condemned him to the clutches of a dilemma only a laundromat could remedy. In the city's underbelly, he stumbled upon a humble establishment run by an Indian family. The scent of spices and incense masked the scent of Musk's misfortune, but a crowd of over twenty had already gathered.

Clad in a jacket disguising the wreckage below, Musk attempted to navigate the disapproving glares. Asserting his identity became the only way out. "I'm Elon Musk, and I need immediate assistance!" he proclaimed. The Indian proprietor, undeterred by celebrity, retorted, "I don't care who you are; you wait!" Musk cranked up the volume, "I'm Elon Musk, the CEO of Tesla and Twitter, and it's of vital importance that you…" the Indian, cut him off, "I'm Jagdish Patel, I don't give a bloody bloody who you are! You wait!" An air of tension thickened. Musk persisted, "It's crucial; I have a conference with the most important people on Earth about…" Patel interrupted again, "I don't bloody care! We're working since morning, and nobody on Earth cares about us, so we don't care about them!" Unyielding, Musk continued, "I can give you $1000 if you…" Patel shot back, "You can give me all the money in world, but you wait! This old woman is here for hours!" Anger boiling, Musk threatened, "You know!? I can pay somebody to kill you if you don't help me!" Patel, indifferent and powerful like Shiva in person, replied, "I don't care! I'm Indian; if you kill me, I reincarnate and kick your ass in another life!"

The dialogue hit a crescendo when two towering, Jamaican-accented men intervened, "Yo, yuh haffi wait like everybody else, or we mek yuh shit dat second time inna row!"

At the stroke of 5 o'clock, wearied by the relentless standoff, Patel apologized, "We're closing. Come back tomorrow, Sir." slamming the door on Elon Musk's face.

In the heart of London, the man who could launch rockets to space and redefine social media was defeated by a humble Indian and a touch of poop, a stark reminder that money can't buy everything.

💀

[my-weird-news]

🔥 Unbelievable: Dinner and Hot Girl Walks Exposed! 😱

The Confusing Circus of Trendy "Girl" Labels You won't believe what my TikTok algorithm had the audacity to ask me the other day: "What kind of insufferable girl are you?" I mean, seriously, it's like the algorithm's become a judgmental aunt at a family gathering. The options it presented were a wild trio: "femcel," as in a radical feminist who's allegedly pathologically unlovable; "coquette," for those who adore bows and bop to Lana Del Rey; or "blogger," which, of course, means me. The original video might've been ditched into the digital abyss (too much insufferableness, perhaps), but I'm telling you, it's stuck in my head like gum on a shoe, not because it was an intellectual masterpiece but because it introduced me to another internet "girl" to add to my collection. Just what I needed, right? Welcome to the era of "girl" obsessions, where the internet's gone gaga over half-baked microtrends involving the word "girl." People are blabbering about their "girl dinners," which, let's be honest, are just glorified fridge clean-outs. Oh, and those "hot girl walks" we're all taking? Yeah, they're just regular strolls with extra flair. And don't forget the "feral girl summers" that somehow make us all feel like wilderness warriors. The internet has spiraled into a rabbit hole of absurdities, trying to decide whether they're "strawberry girls," "cherry girls," or even "tomato girls." I swear, it's like we're building a fruit salad cult. We're deep in "girlboss" territory, doing complex equations with our fabulously fabulous friends during the sizzling "hot girl summer." We're gulping down pink goo and green powders, hoping to transform into "clean girls" or "That Girls." But when those plans flop, what are we left with? Apparently, the crown of "insufferable girls." Eating my girl dinner, strolling my hot girl walk, binging on sad girl music, reading feral girl books, dancing with my girlianas, sipping with my girlipops—every day, a snail's pace towards... well, womanhood. — @EmmaKupor, July 10, 2023 Seriously, if you read these trend labels in sequence, you might wonder if we've all lost our marbles. And who's surprised? A good chunk of the folks riding this "girl" wave are women, and it's a smidge demeaning to treat grown women like toddlers playing dress-up. Are 30-year-olds really supposed to care about being a "strawberry girl" or a "cherry girl"? Shouldn't we have cracked the code of our own personalities by now? We could argue that boxing women into these labels reeks of gender stereotyping, or that stamping ordinary behavior as "girl-coded" merely widens the gender gap. But let's not kid ourselves—these aren't trends, they're just slick marketing ploys. Remember that Saturday Night Live skit where they cooked up a fake teen trend called "souping" to scare parents? Like, teenagers were supposedly getting high on expired soup cans? Classic. It's like today's trend journalism has taken a masterclass from SNL. One video goes viral, chats spark, media jumps in, and before you know it, you're watching the 6 o'clock news, where seniors gasp at how bizarre youngsters have become. And guess who gets the most bewildered mentions? Yep, our girls—because, naturally, they're the ones who must've lost their minds. But here's the kicker: half the time, the original video was a playful jest, meant for an audience who already knew it was bonkers. Take "girl dinner," for instance. It caused an uproar that'd make a volcano jealous, all because it blended womanhood with eating. Olivia Maher, a showrunner's assistant, labeled her medieval-peasant-inspired feast of bread, cheese, pickles, and vino as a "girl dinner." Why? Because she could do whatever the heck she wanted when her boyfriend wasn't around. But oh boy, did that get twisted in the news. Suddenly, this cute oddity turned into an epidemic—like leftover meals were a crisis worthy of international attention. But guess what? The "girl dinner" gig is so last month. I mean, I'm discussing it in August—talk about being fashionably late to the party. But no worries, the internet's churning out new "girl" stuff faster than rabbits procreate. And that's because "girls" sell like hotcakes. Casting our minds back to 2015, we had another "girl" frenzy gripping the bookstores. Remember the time when books like "Gone Girl" and "The Girl on the Train" took over the bestseller lists? Suddenly, every book had to have "girl" slapped somewhere on the cover. But the "girl" craze wasn't just literary—it infiltrated TV shows, movies, and even office lingo. "Girlboss" became a thing, and shows with names like "Good Girls Revolt" and "2 Broke Girls" dominated the airwaves. Seriously, we couldn't escape the "girl" invasion. Now, if you dive into the rabbit hole of analysis, it's not about the age of these "girls" but the themes of their stories. It's all about the transition from girlhood to womanhood, from being someone to being someone's wife or mother, whether that narrative path suits them or not. The protagonist of "The Girl on the Train" exemplifies this—she's like an erased wife, faded into nothingness once the marriage ink dried. This whole "girl" shebang is like a journey back to girlhood, where possibilities are endless. So, these TikTok women aren't merely following trends; they're strategists, plotting their moves like marketing geniuses. They've seen VSCO girls and e-girls break the internet, so they're riding the "girl" wave, because they know it sells. Heck, even this year's blockbuster movie and the record-breaking musical tour revolve around women in their 30s navigating their unique versions of girlhood. People will always be intrigued by girls—partly because they're not quite women, which makes them less of a target for scorn. Girls are like trending snacks, readily consumed, and they've got more avenues than ever. In the end, these online ladies aren't just trend-followers; they're marketing moguls in the making, crafting click-worthy labels that break the internet. We've all turned into mini-publishers, hoping to milk the anticipation of girls blossoming into full-fledged women. And in the process, we might end up a bit insufferable, but hey, at least we're stylishly insufferable. This zany column first hit the world through the Vox Culture newsletter. And hey, if you're up for supporting journalistic clownery like mine, why not throw a few coins Vox's way? They're not just banking on ads and subscriptions—they're all about bringing quality info to the masses. Will you support Vox's explanatory tomfoolery? *Most news outlets juggle cash from ads and# The Confusing Circus of Trendy "Girl" Labels You won't believe what my TikTok algorithm had the audacity to ask me the other day: "What kind of insufferable girl are you?" I mean, seriously, it's like the algorithm's become a judgmental aunt at a family gathering. The options it presented were a wild trio: "femcel," as in a radical feminist who's allegedly pathologically unlovable; "coquette," for those who adore bows and bop to Lana Del Rey; or "blogger," which, of course, means me. The original video might've been ditched into the digital abyss (too much insufferableness, perhaps), but I'm telling you, it's stuck in my head like gum on a shoe, not because it was an intellectual masterpiece but because it introduced me to another internet "girl" to add to my collection. Just what I needed, right? Welcome to the era of "girl" obsessions, where the internet's gone gaga over half-baked microtrends involving the word "girl." People are blabbering about their "girl dinners," which, let's be honest, are just glorified fridge clean-outs. Oh, and those "hot girl walks" we're all taking? Yeah, they're just regular strolls with extra flair. And don't forget the "feral girl summers" that somehow make us all feel like wilderness warriors. The internet has spiraled into a rabbit hole of absurdities, trying to decide whether they're "strawberry girls," "cherry girls," or even "tomato girls." I swear, it's like we're building a fruit salad cult. We're deep in "girlboss" territory, doing complex equations with our fabulously fabulous friends during the sizzling "hot girl summer." We're gulping down pink goo and green powders, hoping to transform into "clean girls" or "That Girls." But when those plans flop, what are we left with? Apparently, the crown of "insufferable girls." Eating my girl dinner, strolling my hot girl walk, binging on sad girl music, reading feral girl books, dancing with my girlianas, sipping with my girlipops—every day, a snail's pace towards... well, womanhood. — @EmmaKupor, July 10, 2023 Seriously, if you read these trend labels in sequence, you might wonder if we've all lost our marbles. And who's surprised? A good chunk of the folks riding this "girl" wave are women, and it's a smidge demeaning to treat grown women like toddlers playing dress-up. Are 30-year-olds really supposed to care about being a "strawberry girl" or a "cherry girl"? Shouldn't we have cracked the code of our own personalities by now? We could argue that boxing women into these labels reeks of gender stereotyping, or that stamping ordinary behavior as "girl-coded" merely widens the gender gap. But let's not kid ourselves—these aren't trends, they're just slick marketing ploys. Remember that Saturday Night Live skit where they cooked up a fake teen trend called "souping" to scare parents? Like, teenagers were supposedly getting high on expired soup cans? Classic. It's like today's trend journalism has taken a masterclass from SNL. One video goes viral, chats spark, media jumps in, and before you know it, you're watching the 6 o'clock news, where seniors gasp at how bizarre youngsters have become. And guess who gets the most bewildered mentions? Yep, our girls—because, naturally, they're the ones who must've lost their minds. But here's the kicker: half the time, the original video was a playful jest, meant for an audience who already knew it was bonkers. Take "girl dinner," for instance. It caused an uproar that'd make a volcano jealous, all because it blended womanhood with eating. Olivia Maher, a showrunner's assistant, labeled her medieval-peasant-inspired feast of bread, cheese, pickles, and vino as a "girl dinner." Why? Because she could do whatever the heck she wanted when her boyfriend wasn't around. But oh boy, did that get twisted in the news. Suddenly, this cute oddity turned into an epidemic—like leftover meals were a crisis worthy of international attention. But guess what? The "girl dinner" gig is so last month. I mean, I'm discussing it in August—talk about being fashionably late to the party. But no worries, the internet's churning out new "girl" stuff faster than rabbits procreate. And that's because "girls" sell like hotcakes. Casting our minds back to 2015, we had another "girl" frenzy gripping the bookstores. Remember the time when books like "Gone Girl" and "The Girl on the Train" took over the bestseller lists? Suddenly, every book had to have "girl" slapped somewhere on the cover. But the "girl" craze wasn't just literary—it infiltrated TV shows, movies, and even office lingo. "Girlboss" became a thing, and shows with names like "Good Girls Revolt" and "2 Broke Girls" dominated the airwaves. Seriously, we couldn't escape the "girl" invasion. Now, if you dive into the rabbit hole of analysis, it's not about the age of these "girls" but the themes of their stories. It's all about the transition from girlhood to womanhood, from being someone to being someone's wife or mother, whether that narrative path suits them or not. The protagonist of "The Girl on the Train" exemplifies this—she's like an erased wife, faded into nothingness once the marriage ink dried. This whole "girl" shebang is like a journey back to girlhood, where possibilities are endless. So, these TikTok women aren't merely following trends; they're strategists, plotting their moves like marketing geniuses. They've seen VSCO girls and e-girls break the internet, so they're riding the "girl" wave, because they know it sells. Heck, even this year's blockbuster movie and the record-breaking musical tour revolve around women in their 30s navigating their unique versions of girlhood. People will always be intrigued by girls—partly because they're not quite women, which makes them less of a target for scorn. Girls are like trending snacks, readily consumed, and they've got more avenues than ever. In the end, these online ladies aren't just trend-followers; they're marketing moguls in the making, crafting click-worthy labels that break the internet. We've all turned into mini-publishers, hoping to milk the anticipation of girls blossoming into full-fledged women. And in the process, we might end up a bit insufferable, but hey, at least we're stylishly insufferable. This zany column first hit the world through the Vox Culture newsletter. And hey, if you're up for supporting journalistic clownery like mine, why not throw a few coins Vox's way? They're not just banking on ads and subscriptions—they're all about bringing quality info to the masses. Will you support Vox's explanatory tomfoolery? *Most news outlets juggle cash from ads and Read the full article

[spikybanana]

Ooooh fun idea!

Give me your philosophy hot takes if you have them, and explain why. (Cause I'm not familiar with philosophy at all, but I AM curious)

BRITT. I love you so much for this. believe me I've been regularly thinking about this since the moment you sent me the ask. I've been turning it over and over in my head because, philosophy?? there's. so much going on, how could I pick the jewels out of the bs sandpit? and me, the lowly borderline dropout undergrad, how would *I* know anything anyway?? BUT in this moment of crisis (deadline stress & mild intoxication, totally unrelated) I've decided to barrel through this with. nothing but my last brain cell I think.

It's 90% bull shit. all the time. like these philosophers are really out here goncharoving their way into something that looks legit but is literally all made up. AND it's almost completely obscure or irrelevant to everyone outside the 'circle', which is deeply annoying but makes a lot of sense if you realise it's just them professors with their hyperfixations.

never trust a man that says they understand Nietzsche. never trust a man that quotes Nietzsche at you (shuddering from flashbacks). Unless his name is Peter Kail. He's kinda fun.

NEVER trust a man that tries to treat philosophy like math. like the moment they start putting these little numbers and arrows and complicated greek letters into an explanation of what consciousness is, RUN. NO ONE EVEN KNOWS WHAT MATH IS ANYWAY. (this I say as I try and fail to write a fake math proof)

time isn't real. in like, at least 5 different ways. Everyone thought calculus solved Zeno but he was onto something. I had typed out a 200 word word vomit of why before I decided it's a bad idea. cuz like. there's probably something morally reprehensible about subjecting others to confused sophistry.

so according to my sleep deprived o'clock un-peer-reviewed last braincell: it could be about the high and deep ideas of truth, meaning, reality, humanity, etc etc but most of the times it's a blorbo shitshow that doesn't touch real human life by the tip of its feathers.

[wutbju]

Wow. BJU Chapel was heavy today. You can listen to the whole thing here.

First of all, the opening student prayer gives us a glimpse at how the students are feeling. Kaitlynn Baxa, a Senior Math Education major, began:

Heavenly Father, I thank you so much for this opportunity that we have to gather here and to just hear from our, hear from your Word. 

God, I'd ask that you would calm our hearts, settle our minds that we'd be able to focus on you and who you are and see wonderful things from your Word. 

God, I thank you that we are able to go to a university that does proclaim your Word.  

God, I'd ask that you would be with the University that you would guide them. And even as people are making very important decisions, just that you would give them wisdom and that they would lead this University well. 

God, I ask that you would just remind us that you are sovereign over all and so ultimately you are our Lord and King.  

God, I'd ask that you would just continue to sustain us as we get to this break that you would give us a time of rest and just recharging, that we would come back to school and be ready to honor and glorify you in everything that we do. 

I ask all these things in the name of your Son, Amen

Alan Benson, the current Dean of Students (EVP of Student Development) was preaching. Here's his opening. I'm going to bold those moments that seem to ominously hang in the air:

It's hard to believe that we are finishing the doctrinal theme, and it just reminds me of where we're at in the semester. And sitting in my seat, I was getting emotional actually thinking about that, and I'm not sure that we get enough venues in which we get to say it. But I want you to know how very proud I am of you. We love you. You are the great joy in our lives, what we get to do here. And I just want to say thank you for being the best student body in the world. I really believe that….

I don't want to give you anything new today. I want to reinforce our faith.

Turn to II Timothy 3….

I'm going to take just a moment, I know you don't want my personal story. There's very little value in it, but I do want to share it with you because I think at some point it may be helpful to you.

I was a young pastor and ended up in my first pastorate, doing everything I knew to do with all the energy and vigor that I could do it with. And I found myself in a crisis.

My daughter's second birthday and at 10:00 o'clock at night, I got called to the church, and there assembled were all of my deacons. And they asked for my resignation.

I sat there and walked through a meeting for several hours listening to empty accusations and all I knew to to say was, "Gentlemen, if I resign it's an admission to all of those things and I can't do that."

Church meeting was called on Sunday--that was Thursday--on Sunday we went through a four-hour meeting. I still have it recorded and I have never had the courage to go back and listen to it.

But at the end of that meeting the question was called, and the vote was taken, and I was no longer the pastor.

I remember asking if my last act as pastor could be that I could lead the congregation in prayer and I did that. And what ensued was like a funeral. The church lined up like I had just lost a spouse. And they all came and they hugged me and said, "We're so sorry. We just didn't know what to do."

We went home. A group of people reached out to us and said, "You know what? We came to the church because of the preaching and the teaching. Would you please help us?" And I said, "I cannot. I cannot be your pastor. I will not be a part of a church split. But I want to help you, so I will but at some point." And so we started what became a church plant.

The Lord worked incredible ways. We had a place to meet and people gave. The first week I think there were twenty people at the end of that service. I asked for sacrificial giving and we had $9000. And so we did that and it was amazing. And we wrote a church constitution, and we elected deacons, and we did all these things. We moved three different buildings, and God got us settled in a place.

And one morning I was standing in my bathroom, and I called my wife in… Do you guys know my wife? Everywhere we have been when it came time for us to leave, the question I was posed with was, "Could you please just leave Michelle?" That's our lives. She is the much better half.

I called my wife in and I said, "Babe, you know what? I'm all done."

And she looked at me like "all done with what? shaving or..?"

And I said, "I am all done with ministry."

She said, "OK. Why?"

And I said, "Because, I'm going to be honest with you, I have no idea what it's really all about. I have done everything I've been taught to do, and it didn't work. And I don't think I can do that anymore."

And truly she is God's greatest gift to me. She, in wisdom, said to me, "OK I'm your, I'm your wife and I'm going to live with you. But before you leave the ministry, why don't you see if you can figure out what it's all about?"

So I ensued an approach, [a] process. I was in the greater Detroit area, and I formulated questions, and I got meetings with every form of clergy that I could get over the next three months: Catholic priest, Anglican ministers, Methodist ministers, Baptist ministers, Church of God, Church of Christ -- everything I could. And I walked them through my questions.

And at the end of three months of exploration, I was convinced of one thing: That though we were different, every one of them was just like me in that we were doing what we were taught to do and we weren't sure why.

Now that's not true of everybody but that's where I was left.

And young people, I will tell you the reason I'm in ministry today is because of what happened next: I had a crisis of faith. And I decided that before I gave up on ministry, I needed to ask God what it was all about. And the next three months for a journey for me of searching the Scriptures to see whether these things were so. God, what do you say about church? What do you say about the role of a pastor? What do you say about salvation? What do you say about spiritual growth?

And I am in ministry today because I believe the Bible. I really want this series to leave you somehow in that place: to be sure the foundation of your faith is in the trustworthy Word of God.

What followed was bibliolatry, pure and simple. I'm sorry to be so blunt, Alan, but you've got it wrong when you ended with this:

Without the Word of God, there isn't much hope in this world.

No, my friend. Jesus is the hope of the world. He is the Word.

Then he closed by reciting this old hymn:

It felt like a funeral, folks. Like a last farewell.

[electrozeistyking]

There are five conversations happening within you at the same time and only you are aware of any of them. All we get is snippets of 2 at any given time.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCKKKKKKKKKK bfjkdl; 

i can NOT keep up five conversations, even with myself

[redflagsandbanners]

i saw you were taking requests?? i have one but if not that’s cool

nancy not understanding the wage gap between her and robin’s family, so she’s always confused why robin acts so weird when she buys her gifts or pays on dates (and robin nervously having to spell it out to her when nancy finally asks why)

Anon, this is so so late but I. loved. it. I loved it.

-

By the time the second half of April rolls in and Hawkins High tries to re-open for the rest of the semester, Robin has found another job.

The Post Office's backroom is filled with the comforting scent of paper and ink, endless boxes moving with curious cluttering sounds that have Robin perfectly distracted by the nightmare that spring break had been.

It's a good job. Smells so good she cannot get enough of the pang in her chest every time she walks in and takes in a deep breath. Fair money, and an actual good boss for once, and somehow some even better coworkers. It's been a month in and she hasn't heard a single sexist comment thrown her way. Mr. Brown actually ordered her to sit down and not move during the first day of her period because, apparently, he knows from his daughter how painful it can fucking be.

It's a good job. Robin is so glad sometimes she cries to Steve about it.

It's a good job. Only that Steve is not working with her here, choosing to keep volunteering around the city despite Robin insisting that, okay, despite the crisis, the state should have brought in people to take care of the repairs, the housing and feeding and entertainment of those who are still in need, and that enough is enough with the endless hours of them hauling ass without getting a penny for the amount of physical and emotional exhaustion it brings in.

She feels bad. She had felt worse when her mom came in after the earthquake and sat both Robin and her dad down to tell them her job got swallowed up by the ground and the first idea was an easy hiring down at the factory.

It's a good job. Only that she works five school days a week, biking to get there at about six o'clock in the morning to load up Mr. Brown's van, and biking back at about four in the afternoon after school to restock the shelves.

Only that the lifting and the standing are taking a toll.

Nancy turns from the desk with a question about the velocity of the moving object, only to find Robin's body completely slacked. She is half curled to the side across the bed's headboard, as if she leaned down on the pillows for just a moment and actually froze there. Her breathing is even, her eyes are closed, a hand still wrapped around a pen on the textbook in front of her.

Quietly, Nancy stands from the desk and, this is still new between them, they are still mapping out ways to be, but Nancy's heart cannot stop pounding in overwhelming adoration at the sight of Robin finally sleeping. Those dark circles under the girl's eyes have been deepening week to week since school opened up again.

Nancy is familiar enough with Robin's parents to call home and tell them, ask them if Robin can stay over because she doesn't have the heart to wake her up. They agree. They remind Nancy to set an alarm for Robin to wake up for her shift in the morning.

She wakes up at five thirty too but when she asks to drive Robin to work, Robin keeps her on the bed with a firm hand and a gentle kiss on her lips that tastes like toothpaste and clear water. Nancy is at least allowed to walk Robin down the stairs and to the back door, getting another long kiss in the doorway's darkness.

Two and a half hours later, it takes every inch of strength and self control not to speed to her through the crowded classroom.

She straddles the chair in front of the girl, slowly confidently lowering a steaming cup and a paper bag on Robin's desk. The light tap makes the girl lift her head, deep blue eyes blinking open to pierce through Nancy's soul, and a smile immediately coming up across the girl's lips.

"Hey", Nancy restrains herself from kissing her as Robin leans back and slides the headphones off of her ears.

"Morning", Robin grins but is looking down at the items on her desk as if they are the most confusing part of her day yet. "Huh, what - um, what is this?"

"Coffee", Nancy tips the items closer. "Breakfast. For you".

"Oh". Robin looks at the logo printed on the cup and bag. "Thank you". A light blush is coming upon the girl's cheeks and Nancy smiles.

But Robin clears her throat and doesn't reach for them. "These are from, huh... Nance, these are from that new place downtown".

"Yeah", Nancy looks down at the bag. The baked goods are starting to smell good now.

"The one selling coffee for like, three dollars, and bagels for two?"

"Well..." - Nancy frowns - "...those ones were like, three because there's cream cheese and..."

"Nance, I..." - the blush has slipped right out of Robin's face, leaving behind a slightly pale hue - "...I make five dollars an hour and those are for today's grocer - Um, I can't... I can't pay you back right now".

"What?" Nancy feels her eyebrows pull close. "Pay me back?"

"I mean, yeah, those cost you like eight dollars and I appreciate it, I really do, you know how long it's been since I smelled coffee this good? But it's a lot of - I'll pay you back once I do my weekly money recounting coming Sunday just to be sure that..."

"Robin, hey, no". Despite the classroom filling with people, Nancy places a hand on her girlfriend's arm. "I wanted to do this because you looked so tired last night and..."

She ignores the pang in her chest when Robin's immediately pulls back, going paler as she looks around with apprehension. No one is looking at them, but Nancy shuffles away anyway too.

"Sorry", Robin flinches and blows out a breath, leaning forward enough for her knee to nudge Nancy's under the table. It stays pressed there.

"Look at me. Please?"

Damn if Nancy can refuse this girl anything. Both of Robin's hands are wrapped around the cup of coffee and she is leaning down to sniff at the opened paper back. She can't fight the smile that tugs at her mouth when Robin's eyes flutter closed at the scent and she gulps as if her mouth is suddenly watering.

The warm touch of Robin's knee knocks against her own with purpose. "Thank you", the girl softly says and Nancy nods. "But just this once, okay? You can't buy me breakfast every time I fall asleep in your room. I feel awful that I can't... I can't offer the same things".

"I don't want you to think like that", Nancy whispers and can't help but laugh when Robin brings the coffee higher and promptly moans at the first sip. Nancy grins, knocking her knee back into Robin's slacked one. "This isn't... it's a gift but it isn't like - I don't know how to, huh..."

"It's okay, Nance".

"No, it's... I like you, Robin. Enough that I know you know already. And this isn't... this isn't - the gifts are not something more than what we already have. Grant gestures or whatever, trying to prove something or convey the feeling or... They're just moments in the big, you know, setting of whatever it is we are doing. But I also don't want you to be uncomfortable so I'll stop if you want me to but just know that these, for me, don't mean something more than what I am already like... saying or doing or -"

"Nancy", Robin is laughing suddenly, beautiful and awake and blushing just so again. And this is gift enough for her. "You're rambling".

"Oh, shit", Nancy chuckles as the bell for the beginning of first period to start up. The teacher will be walking in any second now. "But you... you understand what I am trying to say, right?"

"Yeah", Robin's eyes are impossibly soft. "Thank you".

"Sure", Nancy wants to reach out for her again but knows she can't. Everyone is facing forward by now, their teacher talking to someone by the doorway and she is still turned the opposite way to keep looking at Robin, at her girlfriend.

Softly, Robin nudges her knee back against hers and nods at her to turn around again. It is not enough for Nancy and if she cannot reach over and hold Robin's hand for a second, well-

She reaches into her bag, bringing out her pencil case and bringing out a marker. Robin's eyebrows shoot up when she takes the coffee cup from her hands and doodles across the light blue colored round surface.

Doesn't wait to look at Robin's reaction before she turning around and plopping back onto her seat with a deep sigh, throwing the textbook on the desk.

She does grin to herself when she hears Robin exhale a warm laugh at the little heart on the side of the cup.

[acknowledgetheabsurd]

Your letter of Saturday, Sunday, Monday. It's all over now, my darling, everything is back in place, to love, to certainty. Relax too. Let yourself go to me and to us. I kiss your forehead, your dear hands, taboo closed, gently. I knew you'd find yourself in Dora. It's you, without any difference, as far as the soul is concerned. Then it may happen that you lose yourself, like those days when you're a stranger to who you are, but it can't be for long. I can hear your cry of the end from afar. It is the soul that twists and turns. That which in itself is not imitated, can it cease to be so?

Don't forget to tell me the effects of the serum on your father. I'm very anxious to know more. And don't worry about your little aristocratic crisis either. It's not a crisis, by the way. You're an aristocrat. And your taste for the humble is an effect of generosity alone. You'll never be a communist like the concierge. So? Resign yourself. Not everyone can be a janitor. That said, it's both just and unjust that intelligence can limit the heart. It limits it in small circumstances, or for distant things, never or almost never in great circumstances. There are beings who do not know how to live very well ... but who would know how to die very well.

Little girl who asks for the pity and generosity that you are already overflowing with! No, you're not evil. But I'm just like you. This very Parisian milieu develops a certain contempt. That's what makes it bad. And then, as we go on, we can't stand those we've chosen. Desire! What are you saying? Go to sleep with it, wake up with it! It's a deaf rumor throughout the days. I hadn't known that either. It's very hard. The mouth is dry in certain images, one wishes for a shower of voluptuousness. You, everywhere, your taste, the twisted, welded bodies, at certain moments it's an obsession. I hope it will pass. But at the same time, it's your warmth that accompanies me, as if I had your hand on me. And I love that burning and suffering.

But I want to talk about something else, my temples are pounding. I don't know the actors you're talking about. Choose for yourself, darling. You're the only one I can trust, and I can't do anything so far away. If you phone, do it around 11 o'clock and don't forget that the phone is in the common room and I probably won't be able to shout my love and emotion. What an ordeal! Anyway, tell me exactly what you decide. All night the wind has been blowing. This morning, rain, hail and snow. I stayed until noon, worked (I have almost finished my preface) and waited for your letter. She was there, faithful as love. O my darling, what gratitude! Yes, jet'aime, of love, tenderness and desire. Hurry this moment when we will flow together in the love so long held back! But until then I keep intact the heart that belongs to you and I kiss you right here, unreasonably.

Albert Camus to Maria Casarès, Correspondance, January 17, 1950 [#133]