#CRISIS O'CLOCK OVER HERE

[queenofshenanigans]

WIP WEEKEND

I was tagged by @hbyrde36, @holdinsteddie, @pentapoctopus, @beingmissbatty, and @machtaholic on this edition of WIP weekend. Thanks y'all!! <3 <3

All WIPs are back in rotation this week! Even if I'm behind on some asks...I'm getting there!

🏰 - Attic Shenanigans - Steve has good parents actually, Steddie, Scoops Troop, post S4 Honey I Shrunk The Kids inspired AU

⚔️ - A Knight's Tale (with magic) - Ronance, Steddie, lots of Wheeler siblings, platonic Stobin, platonic Edancy

✏️- NSFW Dom!Steve/Switch!Eddie Fic - This is DONE but needs editing, so I'll edit this one if you send an ask!

🛼 - Operation Hot Racks - Sapphic Mini Bang! Bubblescoops + Stommy! The 90s! There's roller derby and heisting! Post-canon AU! Leverage inspired (sort-of).

🐕- Reluctant Dog Dad Steve - Post-S4, the Party shows up with a dog. Steve is NOT keeping it. Undecided Steve pairing. (Eddie *is* alive).

⚾ - Second Chance at First Love (and Third Base) - Steddie Big Bang! No longer a secret!! Making some progress!

👩‍👩‍👦 - Stranger Moms - S5 AU ft. the Stranger Moms

🐉 - There's a Dragon In My Closet - Dustigan*, developing Steddie, magical canon AU, post S4

*there was some confusion over this - Dustigan is Dustin-As-Dragon. Steve shortened it.

🤸‍♂️- Yeet Aerobics - S3 AU Stedissy, platonic Stobin, matchmaker Wayne, Buckingway, Carol & Tommy are lurking around...S3 bout to get *interesting*

Snippet from Reluctant Dog Dad Steve and tags below the cut

The incessant banging on his front door woke Steve from a deep, solid slumber. He sat up and rubbed sleep from his eyes. He was buried under several blankets, sprawled out on the living room couch. He'd spent more time there lately than in his own room. This house, newly purchased with government hush money, was still unfamiliar to him, and he had trouble sleeping in the master bedroom. The television had switched from late night programming to static, so it had to be some time after midnight. The banging came again, followed by the rumble of voices—and thunder. A flash of lightning lit up the bay window, and made him flinch. There was another round of bangs at the door. "Fuck. Okay, all right, I'm coming. Jesus." He pulled himself to his feet, stumbled to the front door pausing just long enough to switch on the hall light so he could see. There were few people who would be banging on his door at midnight, and on second thought he took a quick detour to the hall closet to grab his trusted nail-studded bat. Better to be prepared if Dustin and the rest were going to drag him into a new crisis at ass o'clock in the morning. He should just give the kids a key at this point. "What would I do with privacy, anyway?" he muttered, shaking hair out of his eyes. Bat at the ready, he pulled open the door to a wild pack of teenagers. "What sort of monster is it, did it follow you, are any of you hurt, why the fuck are you out at midnight in a thunderstorm, and do you fuckheads actually have any common sense? Your mothers are going to kill you, then they're going to kill me. Get in here, you're getting water everywhere and I just redid these floors."

I'll no pressure tag @turinspeachjam, @mission2mordor, @cloudsurfing42, @helpimstuckposting, @vthx, @nureyevsins, and @eriquin this week, and anyone else who would like to play @strangerthingswritersguild

[stabbyfoxandrew]

For WIPW--unusually, I think this week I'm feeling most desperate to see more of angel!Neil. The "Andrew and Neil realize they share murder as a love language" moments are my very favorite. The sheer "given the opportunity I will bring you the head of everyone that ever wronged you" of it is just, ooh. Chef's kiss.

WIP Wednesday (3/5) | Guardian Angel Neil AU (Part 283)

Andrew has been staring at this stupid sheet of paper for the past twenty minutes and he's beyond lost. He'd woken up half an hour ago and decided to finally attempt to write his letter to Aaron. He didn't really feel like doing that at nine o'clock in the morning on an empty stomach, but he needed to focus on something besides the residual shock of seeing Drake's body last night.

After all, it was too early for a crisis. Too early to summon Neil to talk him down. So Andrew grabbed a notebook instead of a blade and started off strong with 'Hey'. That is as far as he's gotten so far. After that, he lost steam and started to doodle little pictures all over the page. A turtle, a bunny, a cloud, a little house. Things he can manage with his non-existent art skills.

He hasn't taken his meds yet this morning, hoping he would be able to do this under his own power and knowing he wouldn't be able to do it if his brain were miles overhead. Andrew huffs and drops the notebook, leaving the pen sticking out of his mouth. He needs to do this soon. He's been putting it off for weeks. 

The first time Bee asked after it, he claimed he'd forgotten about his therapy homework and she let it slide. Every Wednesday after that, he's come up with a new excuse. 'Bee, my dog ate it' went over as well as it would've in an actual class, Andrew thinks. But Bee was Bee and she didn't yell at him or anything, just gave him that knowing look and told that Kevin was not actually a dog. And that sparked another conversation about how Andrew takes care of Kevin. (Tries to.)(Someone has to.)

Andrew chews on the end of his pen and stares. The problem with the entire thing is... he does not know what to say.

There is nothing to say. Not really.

Betsy swears it would help things between them if he were to take a step and try to make Aaron see his point of view. But there's no way to explain anything without explaining everything and Andrew does not want that. He doesn't want Aaron to know—

What if he already knows? What if Nicky has told him?

Andrew sits with that thought for a couple of minutes, then books it downstairs. The others are all in the living room already, each of them with a bowl of cereal. Even Kevin is awake with a bowl of frosted flakes in his lap, which is a shock. Everyone turns to look at him when he enters and Andrew's skin feels like a sheet of static, buzzing. Everything is buzzing. Itchy.

"Nicky, come here." Andrew says, making Nicky bristle. But he obediently rises from his spot, sets his cereal down, and comes to follow Andrew up to the foot of the stairs. Andrew goes up three steps above Nicky, so he can look him in the eye. "What did they tell you last night?"

"What?"

[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).

[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

[letsplaydcttrpg]

City of Fear pt 7 - Shot in the Dark pt 7

Start this module here!

Previous part here!

Links to all posts for this module in the pinned post!

Okay, forget the persuasion, let's just knock this guy out and take him out that way! We beat him on initiative, so we get to go first. I was going to maybe have a poll option for if we wanted to use Superspeed to do multiple actions in our turn, buuuuut we rolled a 13 and obliterated this guy, so he's out in one super-speed punch and we're moving on!

As soon as we've handed the guy over to the authorities, there are reporters everywhere.

"Who is this guy?" "Why was he shooting at trains?" One of the reporters, a man with hair that looks like the frayed end of a rope, is hanging back from the crowd of newsmen. He is not interested in you, bur rather, is looking at a group of kids that are playing makeshift instruments for money that people are throwing in a cup. He tosses them a bill that is so large that the kids stop playing and look at him in surprise. One pockets the bill, says "Thanks," and they continue playing.

One of the cops approaches us to ask about what happened, and by the time we look back the musician kids are gone.

"Flash, we're glad you're here. We just got an anonymous tip about a dangerous situation down in the Wall Street area. It seems some nut planted a bomb around there somewhere, and it's set to go off at the last tolling of Trinity Church's nine o'clock bell. We have no idea where it is or what to do, and we only have three minutes left. You're the only one who can do something about it. Please help us."

And we're on to the next crisis!

You head south at top speed towards Wall Street. You are at the corner of Wall Street and Broadway almost before you realize it. You have no idea where the bomb is or who planted it. Your only hope is to try and find the bomb or the bomber. The Trinity Church bell begins to ring. There are only seconds left!

So here's the deal! We are on a major time crunch to find this bomb! We've got until the bell stops tolling, which in mechanics terms means we can make three stops to take some sort of action to try and locate it. We can make perception checks as we're running around, but after each fourth check there's another bell!

I'll give you a map of the area and a list of the people who are around. Vote for who you want to do a Perception Check on, or if you want to go to a different location! (For the sake of expedient gameplay I'm only going to offer locations that will give information at that point in time, so we don't waste our time with "You see nothing and no one" answers.)

Here we go! We are currently at the red star (the general location of the bomb per the cops), so the people we can see right now are A, C, D and E.

A: You see a finely dressed man in a dark grey pinstriped suit. He has jet black hair and greying temples. C: You see a large, bearded man, with thinning, sandy blond hair. He is wearing a grey suit and a yellow tie. D: You see a teenager with dirty blond hair, wearing a denim jacket and black jeans. He has a manic look in his eye and a grin that is a little too wide. E: You see a teenager with curly brown hair. He is dressed in a day glow orange sweatshirt, blue jeans, and orange hightop tennis shoes.

We are on Bell 1! There are 8 bells remaining!

[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)

[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.

💀

[prstbnny]

. ⋆ ༺ ⋅𝚂𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜⋅ ༻ ⋆ .

"𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝-𝙸𝚏𝚜"

Chapter 1

♡ Chapter List ♡

Word count: 1,002

Enjoy! (SMAU + Writing)໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶ ꒱ྀིა

<prev | next>

♬ Currently playing: "I Don't Want To Live Like This" by James Marriott ♬

01:43 ━━━━●───── 02:54

⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻

It goes without saying that University life was difficult, especially for students who decided to pursue the Arts. Endless hours spent carrying gigantic portfolio cases, bending over projects, sketchbooks, screens and easels. Truly, choosing to be any sort of Art major was basically willingly subjecting yourself to daily torture for a few years. But when it's something that you cannot live without, all of those annoyances don't matter. You're doing what you want, after all — chasing your dreams with determination, despite knowing that most people don't even make it.

Unfortunately for you, passion doesn't make exhaustion disappear. It's already dark by the time you drag yourself back home after hours of working on your projects in University, the feelings of disappointment still heavily lingering after your talk with the professor. Stress is a merciless thing and right now it's making you nauseous. How could it not, though? The deadline was only a month away yet here you were, completely empty-handed, and today was just another useless, directionless day. Collapsing on the couch doesn't help much, though the fluffy cushions you bought with Shoko definitely brought some sense of comfort. Better than nothing, you suppose.

You check your phone, out of habit more than hope. Nothing. Of course not.

As with any crisis, you think if this whole University thing is even worth it. Sure, it's your second year already, but you didn't really waste that time, right? Most of the classes were genuinely helpful and interesting, so it's not like you've gained nothing by attending. Maybe you should just… move away overseas, start a new life, oh, maybe open a cute little cafè? Never think about art ever again, because, seriously who even needs it? It's not like this is a life or—

The screen of your phone lights up, a soft buzz against the coffee table.

Picking it up, you see a text from Geto, your so called "saviour". But, before you even let yourself read it, you lock the phone, letting the device fall onto your chest. Panic sets in the pit of your stomach. What it he's too busy to help? What if he doesn't even want to help? What if he secretly knows every single embarrassing thing that has ever happened in your life and decided to remind you of all of them? Eh, too far fetched. Maybe. Or maybe not. Sighing, you try to keep yourself together. Shoko’s words from earlier replay in your head — a casual “Don't fuck it up, you're too smart to fail because of a camera” — as if asking a complete stranger for help with your Multimedia final was any better than flunking. Or burying yourself six feet under, for that matter. Still, the professor had made it clear: film or fail. And as much as you hated admitting it, you were out of options. Right now, you had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

Picking the phone back up, you decide to read the message.

Alright, alright, this was… this was good. So damn good, actually. Better than you expected, but given how much you overthink things, the bar was set pretty low. Although, as amazing as this opportunity was, it still made you terribly anxious. People weren't your strong suit, they never were. And now, you had to meet up and talk to a stranger. The exchange with Geto sat heavy on your chest, the phone screen now dark, yet somehow still burning a hole through you.

Tomorrow. Six o'clock. It was set. No more excuses, no more delays.

The sound of the front door opening pulled you out of your spiralling thoughts, followed by the familiar shuffle of shoes against the corridor floor. Shoko's voice filtered through the apartment, mumbling something about her usual daily struggles in University. It was basically second nature to her at this point, to always come home and talk about everything that has troubled her that particular day and how much she needs a break and a cigarette. Or better yet, a break with a cigarette. She kicked off her shoes and wandered into the small living room, already pulling her hair loose from its messy ponytail. Her white medical coat was slung over one arm and a messenger bag over the other.

"You look like you just got diagnosed with something terminal." She said, giving you a quick look-over, taking in your collapsed form on the couch, the phone still precariously balanced on your chest. You rolled your eyes at her comment with an annoyed groan. Was it really that easy to tell? God…

“Thanks," you mumbled, voice muffled by the throw pillow you half-heartedly buried your face in. "So glad my best friend thinks I look gorgeous as ever."

Shoko sat down on the couch, taking up the unoccupied space by your feet. "So, did you have the balls to text Geto?" She asked with a teasing tone, leaning her back against the cushioned seat.

You threw the pillow at her face, emitting a quiet snicker from Shoko as she easily caught it, placing it down on her lap. "First of all, rude. Second of all, I did, yeah. We're meeting up tomorrow at six." You explained, shifting your position on the couch to a sitting one.

A soft huff of amusement escaped her. "See? That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

You shot her a glare, but there was no real venom behind it. Just anxiety, though that was pretty much your usual.

“I’m literally going to die." You announced with a dramatic sigh, playfully putting the back of your hand against your forehead.

"Like hell you are. I saved your ass and you're not dying before you finish that project." She leaned her head back against the couch, closing her eyes with a sigh. Shoko was definitely exhausted, probably even more than you. But right now, it was just the two of you in that small shared apartment. At least neither of you had to suffer alone.

𝙸'𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢!

If you have any questions, suggestions, or anything you'd like to say, feel free to submit an ask!

Yours,

- Fae

ᘏ ⑅ ᘏ   ഒ    zᶻ

꒰˶  - ˕ -꒱ ⌒)ᦱ

Taglist!(Open)

@inthedarkshadows000

[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

[atlasxthorne]

Atlas couldn't help but laugh at Miles' excuses. His friend always did this - found reasons to stay in his comfort zone. "The chicken won't grow legs and walk away," he said, watching Miles fuss over his ruined shirt like it was a national crisis. When Miles tried to flip the situation around, suggesting the woman might be looking at him instead, he had to shake his head. "C'mon, I know when someone's checking me out versus when they're into my friend." He took a drink, entertained by Miles' attempts to dodge the situation. "The blonde. Two o'clock. She's checking you hard." The whole thing tickled him - here was Miles, covered in sauce and still pulling attention without even trying. That was just how things worked for some people.

He was mid-bite into a chicken drumstick when Atlas pointed out the woman, and immediately Miles' features twisted into a look of confusion. "I'm eating, mate. Could you at least let me get through the chicken before making me an offer I can't refuse?" With sarcasm evident in his tone, Miles twisted his head in an attempt to steal a glance at the woman in reference. "Which-which one? She's probably just staring because she recognizes me or think she's seen me somewhere before and can't figure it out. Not necessarily because I exude sex appeal while eating chicken." His eyes immediately fell to his shirt. "Damn.. this shirts new." He mumbled, almost sadly. "I'm not weird. You're weird. And what if she's staring at you, genius? Then you get me two drinks."

[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

[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."

[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.