#just use these apps and shut up it's literally not that serious

[fab-o-lus]

Kinda odd how welcoming the Tumblr community is to Reddit and how y'all shit on Twitter users seeking digital refuge after the muskrat takeover

[reocidal]

Can you do 🐙💍💐🍺 with Inumaki? 🎀🎀

here u go !! my handwriting is actually much better btw.

yes this is a confession — toge inumaki x gn!reader

wc <1000 || event

cws: swearing, one mention of death threats, gn reader

arranged marriage is not something you particularly adore. thankfully, you're able to pull things around enough for your husband to be your friend, toge inumaki.

he's a bit of a freak but at least he's nice and not like the weird guys from other clans..

totally the type to buy you flowers "for his beautiful spouse xx"

if you remind him it's an arranged marriage he'll be like, so?? it's for show, dude. (it isn't)

after the wedding he goes to yuta's and ugly cries cause you look so perfect and he's literally in love with you

he leaves colourful sticky notes around the house with cute messages; "what a nice friend!" you think at first

it feels weird to actually fall for him after the two of you get married

you being as oblivious you are, feel extremely guilty for this "one-sided" thing

you start regarding him completely differently

has he always looked this good in everything

he lets you borrow all his clothes — whatever you want, it's yours from the moment you lay your eyes on it

"if we're a married couple, might as well let you have the perks too."

text to speech is a godsend

one night the two of you are lying in bed (with an awkward amount of space between the two of you) when you're overcome with an unusually high amount of guilt. you roll over onto your side to look at him. he's still awake, staring outside at the stars. before you can say anything, he types something out on his phone — really fast — and gives it to you. the bright light hurts your eyes, and you have to squint to read the words.

shootimg star mkae a wisj

your eyes trace the stars path as you murmur a wish, propping yourself up on one elbow to get a better look. inumaki looks detached, distant as he — you assume — makes his wish, too.

"what did you wish for," says the monotonous voice of the text to speech app.

"i can't tell you," you reply. "my wish won't come true that way."

he shakes his head obstinately.

"it's just us here, so it's fine," says text to speech.

"i wished for you to get your happily ever after," you confess finally. "i took away any hope you had of a proper relationship, and—"

"shut the fuck up," the monotone voice tells you, and toge is scrambling up to switch the lamp on and scribble something on one of the post-its from the pile that you consistently keep refilling every day. he shoves it unceremoniously into your hands, and it takes all of thirty seconds for the words to register in your brain.

"what the fuck, are you serious right now?"

he grins awkwardly at your reaction, not knowing if it's a positive response or not, but then a moment later, it all becomes clear.

timeskip :3

tysm for reading n following !

love,

hyena

[backtothefanfiction]

I’ve got you | tasm!peter

Warnings: fear of heights, (this is just fluff)

Word Count: Definitely under 1k (I just wrote this in app so don’t know for sure)

A/N: literally just a quick little imagine that’s in my head before I sleep. Enjoy.

You held your eyes shut tight. You could feel his hands still tentatively braced on your hip and lower back as the wind whipped around the two of you.

You knew you were high just from the fact that the sound of the traffic logged streets of New York below you, sounded so far away.

“Baby, open your eyes.” He encouraged.

You shook your head. “No.”

“I promise I got you. Just open your eyes and look at the view.” You shook your head again and his hands grew firmer. “I promise I’ve got you, I won’t let you fall.” He said in a more serious tone. But your butt wobbled, your legs felt like jelly, toes dangling off the very edge of the building you both stood atop.

Your hand flailed about in the air, looking for his and he quickly raced to put his gloved hand in yours. Your fingers gripped tight to the familiar fabric, thumb brushing soothingly across the ribbed web texture over his fingers. You breathed deeply, counting to ten in your head. ‘You can do this. Peter’s Spider-Man, you’re safe. He does this every day. You can do this.’ You repeated in your head.

As if he could tell you were trying to psych yourself up, to finally bite the bullet and open your eyes, his voice came softly in your ear. “I’m gonna count to three okay and on three you’re gonna-“

“Open my eyes.” You finish.

“That’s my girl. Come on… Ready?” You gave a small nod, your other hand moving to hold his hand around your waist steady, making sure he wasn’t gonna let you go, just in case. “1…2…3!”

You forced yourself to open your eyes. You wobbled as you let out a little gasp but he held you steady.

“Look out, not down.” He advised and you silently nodded. You may now have use of your eyes, but it came at the cost of your voice. “You okay?” He asked. You slowly nodded, your lips held tightly together. “You wanna get down?” He asked, taking in the look of terror on your face. You nodded harder. He chuckled. “Okay. Hold tight Spider Monkey.” He said as he wrapped his arm tightly around you, your own arms holding firmly around his neck as you screwed your eyes up tight.

When he set you back down on the floor 30 seconds later, you struggled to let go.

“Was it really that bad?” He asked.

“Mhmm.” You nodded as you began to pry yourself off him. “Yeah, no. Nope, I don’t wanna do that again.”

“But you like swing?” He questioned.

“I like the feeling, don’t like looking.” You confirmed.

“Okay.” He noted. “So… do you wanna go get some ice cream?” He asked.

“Yeessss!” You sighed with relief, eager to put the experience behind you and replace it with something good. “But can we walk, I think I’ve had enough of being… up there, for the day” you say pointing upwards at the surrounding skyscrapers.

“Yeah, okay.” He sighs but you know he’s smiling under his mask.

[ediesguidetoeverything]

advice: detaching yourself from male validation & seeking relationships

here's the thing with high school relationships: they are so so fun. the idea of a first love is such a beautiful thing in my opinion, and I think everyone SHOULD experience at like a sort-of romantic relationship before college. this teaches people how to care for others, have communication skills, and serves to help you navigate future, more serious relationships later in life.

HOWEVER, you really, really, really shouldn't ever depend on this idea that you will find a perfect boyfriend or girlfriend in high school, that you'll be sweethearts and go to prom together and be this perfect, complete thing. because, to put it honestly, people think too much about themselves. especially at an age where you are still very much a kid, growing and learning and sometimes not taking others into consideration.

" so, what?" SO, here is how you navigate this incredible strong desire to obtain a boyfriend, or even just romantic attention from guys:

get a hobby. not one to impress anyone but yourself. if you like a guy who's super into film, you don't need to become a ' film girl'. find somethings that screams YOU. it can literally be anything you enjoy doing in your free time, ( i'll put up a link to suggestions here) but I'm personally advising something productive. which brings me to my next point...

get off your phone!!! i can't say enough about this, seriously. if you're constantly checking your socials, on tiktok/snap/insta, you will be taking in the lives of other people, whether it be your friends or complete strangers. this builds jealousy. a proven fact, depression and anxiety is present teenagers who use social media DOUBLE the amount of teens who don't. majority of these apps don't lead to anything good, and mainly serve as major distractions to other important aspects of your life. ( i know you're reading this on tumblr, but i'm here to tell you that my account is good vibes only luv y'all)

non-romantic social interaction is key. everyone needs environments where they are able to decompress, be ugly, be genuine, laugh and have a good time without the upkeep or stress of trying to look a certain way. this is what real friends are for. on top of this, good friends will shut down negative self-talk and hype you up like you deserve to be! spend time with people that make you feel good about yourself.

turning that all into confidence doesn't look like the simplest thing, but trust me, it can be effortless with time and sticking to what you know is best for yourself. putting your phone away creates less windows into other people's lives, which will in turn make you realize that those people you once obsessed over? not that important. reaching that step will be such a relieving feeling, and you won't regret it. putting your time into things you're interested will help you get to know yourself better, enjoy solitude, and will genuinely make you happier. the reason people encourage things like this in the first place is because they work!! the final results of doing these things will look like a self-confidant queen, who doesn't chase, but attracts.

[666writingcafe]

An Interview With Lucifer

Part Three of A New Series

Question One: How do your friends describe you in a word?

Cranky.

Question Two: Who would you want to be stuck with on an island?

If I was limited to just one person, then MC. If there were multiple people, I'd add Mammon and Barbatos.

Question Three: What are you hiding now?

Treats from Cerberus. Not because he isn't a good dog, but because he's found their original hiding place and has been digging into them constantly, and the treats I give Cerberus are rather expensive, so I can't exactly afford to buy them every day and ensure that other stuff gets paid for.

Question Four: Do you prefer mountains or beaches?

It depends on my mood. If I don't want anyone to find me, then definitely mountains, but if I'm feeling a bit romantic, then I'd hit the beach.

Question Five: What is your hidden talent?

I can juggle. And I don't mean that in the metaphorical sense--although I can do that too--but in the literal sense, like a circus clown. It's one of the ways I relieve stress, because I can just shut my brain off and focus on keeping the objects I'm juggling up in the air.

Question Six: What makes you laugh?

You'll get a satisfied chuckle out of me whenever someone I dislike gets what they deserve, but if you want to hear a true, unrestrained laugh, either get me drunk on Demonus or put me in a room with MC when they're in a good mood.

Question Seven: If you were a thing, what would you be?

A metronome.

Question Eight: If you have no GPS, how would you find your destination?

I'd print out directions. (But what if you were unable to do that?) Then I'd ask the locals where I need to go. I may be the Avatar of Pride, but that doesn't mean I'm not willing to admit when I'm lost. (someone yells out, "that's a lie, and you know it!") And if all else fails, then I'll get to my destination through sheer determination.

Question Nine: Describe your three best qualities.

Apparently I'm patient, kind, and loving. (Why do you phrase it like that?) Because I wouldn't necessarily call myself any of those things, but I trust that the person who did wouldn't lie to me about such things. (And who might that person be?) MC.

Question Ten: Would you consider yourself a cool person?

I'm going to lean towards no. I'm far from being a trendy person. Just ask any of my brothers. (What about MC?) You'll have to ask them. I know they like spending time with me, but I honestly don't know why. Usually I'm busy with paperwork, and it's not like that's terribly interesting.

Question Eleven: What is a skill you want to master?

Baking.

Question Twelve: What would you do first if you won a human world jackpot?

Pay off any debts MC may have.

Question Thirteen: What one aspect of the human world would you change if you could?

I'd make it legal to punish animal and child abusers by inflicting the same types of torture onto them as they did on their victims. (That's rather serious, Lucifer.) So is abusing those that are unable to understand why their supposed family is hurting them.

Question Fourteen: What is your preferred card or board game?

Let's just say that I'm not allowed to play any tabletop fantasy games unless I can ensure that all of my work is complete. (Why's that?) You've met Levi, yes? (I have.) Now, imagine me behaving like him, and you'll have your answer.

Question Fifteen: What is your current favorite app on your phone?

Don't make fun of me, but there's this app where you can send messages to people and it shows up on their phone in a cartoony heart. (Are you talking about the viral Candy Heart app?) ...yes. (That's actually quite sweet.) It was MC's idea, and I initially did downloaded it just to amuse them, but I've come to enjoy using it as time has gone on.

Question Sixteen: Would you go to space if you could?

I'm content with merely looking at pictures of space.

Question Seventeen: What kind of museum or exhibit do you prefer?

I like learning about the history of different objects. Looking at their evolution fascinates me.

Question Eighteen: What kind of humor do you prefer?

I'll throw you a curve ball: I enjoy a nice pun from time to time, even if it would be classified as a "dad joke".

Question Nineteen: Do you prefer driving a car, a motorcycle, or a bicycle?

Oh, a motorcycle, by far.

Question Twenty: When was the last time you climbed a tree?

This is going to really show my age, but the last time I climbed a tree was when I was a young angel. *pauses* Thinking about it is making me want to do it now. Being up in the branches is quite peaceful.

Question Twenty-One: What is your strangest habit?

There are times where the only way I'm able to fall asleep is to hang upside-down like a bat.

Question Twenty-Two: What is your weirdest fantasy?

I'll give you an oddly specific one: if I'm ever able to retire, I'd like to buy a farm somewhere in the human world countryside and raise livestock and plant fruits and vegetables with MC. (You've brought them up several times in this interview.) You could say that I have a soft spot for them. (Or that you love them.) Well, obviously. They're a wonderful person to be around. I'd like to spend the rest of my life with them if I could. (You mean, their life.) Listen, I don't choose my words lightly. What I say is what I mean, one hundred percent.

Question Twenty-Three: Here's something a bit more light-hearted: would you rather fight a shark or wrestle a lion?

The lion. I can't swim nearly as well as Levi can.

Question Twenty-Four: How do you want the world to end?

By my hand.

Question Twenty-Five: Would you like to be shorter or taller?

I like my height just the way it is. (What if you had to choose one or the other?) Then I suppose taller. I don't feel I'd be able to intimidate people as well if I was shorter.

Question Twenty-Six: Who is the annoying person you want to get rid of in your life?

I don't necessarily want to get rid of anyone, but I'd like to seriously alter the behaviors of Solomon and Mephistopheles.

Question Twenty-Seven: Which artist and/or song dominates your human world music playlist?

I'll give you both: Metallica and "Adore You" by Harry Styles.

Question Twenty-Eight: If you had to go to prison, what would be the reason?

Treason.

Question Twenty-Nine: What is the most critical trait you seek in a friend?

They have to be able to keep secrets.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr

[xxoxobree]

Morales twin lil sis forcing them to do a tiktok dance with her and they go viral 🤣

Tik tok reference You sat in your bed bored as usual, mindlessly scrolling through TikTok, laughing and liking videos here and there. It was just another ordinary day, until a video with a familiar song caught your attention. As the two boys on the screen danced along, you couldn't help but sing along with them, a smile growing on your face. “Ya no llores, no me importa tu pasado.”

Inspired by their moves, you knew you had to learn this dance immediately. But you didn't want to do it alone, and fortunately, you didn't have to. With a smile still plastered on your face, you jumped out of bed and headed straight to your twin brothers' room.

Without any hesitation, you barged in. "Wassup losers, learn this TikTok dance with me?" You flopped onto Miles' bed, shoving the phone into his face. He looked at you and began to sing the song too, the lyrics familiar to both of you because of your mother.

"Mmm okay," Miles said, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

Feeling the thrill of this impromptu dance session, you couldn't contain your enthusiasm. You sprinted across the room to your other brother, Milo, determined to get him on board as well.

"I'm not doing that shit, Y/n," Milo said, shutting you down immediately.

"But you didn't even watch it," you tried to plead with him, hoping to convince him to join in.

"Don't need to," Milo replied with a dismissive tone.

Desperate to have him involved too you begged Milo, "Pleaseeeee, Milo.

He sighed. "Alright but hurry up." You squealed, jumping up and pulling them up. You began to teach them the dance moves which seemed hopeless at first. "No, Miles, like this," you said, correcting his moves. "Milo, Mom literally taught us how to cha-cha before we started walking. Are you serious?"

It took a while, but the twins finally got the dance moves. "Okay, now time to record," you said, setting up your phone and putting on the timer, getting into formation. The TikTok went perfect, you thought, as you watched it over and over again before posting it.

"Thank you," you said to your brothers, giving them hugs before walking back to your room. You went to sleep that night not thinking much of it, only to wake up with your video going viral, having over 250 thousand likes and comments. You weren't sure how your phone didn't explode.

Your jaw dropped as you opened the app to check your engagement and comments, only to see most of the comments were about your twin brothers and how good-looking they were. "Till the bed breaks," you read out loud, dying with laughter. "I can take both of them, but not in a fight," you read the next comment. "Ewwww," you said, fake gagging.

You got out of bed and ran to the twins' room to show them all the love they were getting. "Y'all are viral," you said, throwing yourself across Milo, showing him. "What does that say?" he questioned. "Wooowww, they wild," he said laughing. "Holon she bad tho."

"You're disgusting," you said, getting up to show Miles. His eyes just widened as he scrolled, making you laugh. "I'm never doing a TikTok with you again."

[zombiecowboy65]

At this exact moment, I think Jeremy and Allison have similar backstories. I’m sure ill change my mind in ten minutes but what’s your Jeremy theory RIGHT NOW 👀👀

I literally had a whole essay drafted in response to this and then my app crashed. Omg. But essentially I’ve been crashing out about this for the past three hours and here is what I’ve got:

The problem with any Jeremy theory is that it has to hit several markers. For example, it has to be exy related because his sister went out of her way to forget everything about the sport, but it can't be too exy related or bad enough that Jeremy wouldn't still play. It has to have broken up the family, but it can't be too serious bc his family hasn't disowned him/he's still in the grandpa's campaign stuff/he's captain of a D1 sports team. And it has to somehow be at least indirectly his fault, but not his fault to a point of irredeemability.

One thing I noticed is that Jeremy seriously acts like a guy who had a secret blown up in his face. (Ex: constantly mentioning that he hopes he doesn’t “regret” something, the anxiety he had when he didn’t tell cat and Laila about Jean’s reaction to the pool) . And he DOES seriously push to try and help , and at some point I think he even says he wouldn’t give up bc the truth was so close he could taste it?

He also (and this could honestly just be him being quirky) has different ringtones for EVERYONE and seems to answer his phone as soon as it rings/as soon as he can. But again , this could be nothing.

Regardless, though— theory #1 is that Jeremy’s brother was maybe doing something dangerous/having a rough go of it, and Jeremy knew and kept his mouth shut? Maybe he left the brother alone and went to his exy banquet and went Mia for a bit, and the scandal was whatever he was doing/his brother’s death? And then the way it would be tied to exy is that his fam saw it as him putting the sport before family?

Obviously from there Jeremy would’ve blamed himself and his family would’ve blamed him and he would’ve spiraled and maybe became depressed/ his depression worsened, and that’s what cat meant by life changing therapy.

That’s my top theory atm.

BUT there is the concept of the title of the second book “the golden raven” which I’m 96% sure references Jean, but that other 4% makes me think about how after Jean said Jeremy wasn’t like the ravens, jeremy refuses to make eye contact and looks away. And Jean tells us , “the look wasn’t wounded, but no raven had ever looked so gutted”. So maybe I’m thinking too much into it, BUT—

Theory #2 (which I hope isn’t the case, because it’s too similar to Andrew for me) is that Jeremy was supposed to be a Raven. Then maybe whatever happened happened and Jeremy was forced to stay local? Idk how this one would work out, considering the way cat spelled it out was that Jeremy only hated his older brother, but maybe the brother was devastated that Jeremy got scouted and he didn’t so he took extreme measures? Idk . But this would be extremely exy related, and still very explicitly “Jeremy’s” fault, and why he’s so insistent that exy is “just a game”.

I’ve also seen ppl point out the cops. And tbh, at first I just wrote the them off as his step grandpa’s political influence, especially since Jeremy says there was “no reason the cops would recognize him, and little to no chance he knew them”, but I’d be willing to entertain that idea that he did something accidentally/in self defense that his missing brother took the fall for ? This of course would put heavy emphasis on the “him”, but with Nora it’s not unlikely.

So then theory #3 would be like Jeremy got in a fight or something and maybe hurt someone ? Maybe he got jumped (similar to Nicky, I know , but he is gay in 2007), and his brother got caught in the crossfire, and Jeremy blamed himself /his family blames Jeremy, and since it was an exy player that did it, also exy?

The receipts thing I don’t really see as a clue. I know a lot of ppl believe they’re tied to drugs but I don’t see how that adds up considering he’d still be missing the cash he gives to Laila and cat on the receipt? And I think honestly the hang up there is just that his mom married a rich guy and the money is his step dad’s and his step dad hates him.

Also I don’t think Jeremy is secretly violent and I certainly don’t think his backstory it’s anything like Renee, especially since he kinda blanches at everything Jean says and calls the way his Highschool team played/ confronting Bryson exhausting.

BUT, and this one’s a long shot, I have been wondering if Jeremy has two missing siblings. My literal only proof is that cat says “you’re bound to hit one or two once u pass four kids”. And she does say that Jeremy has three siblings, and Annalise says that the family split in half. But if the family truly split in half, it would be two siblings vs two siblings. And at the moment, it looks like Jeremy vs Bryson and Annalise.

Am I making sense?

And then with the repeating 5’s in this story, that would bring Jeremy’s total sibling count (including himself ) to 5. So the last theory is like maybe Bryson and Jeremy got into it and the another brother got in the middle and something went down ™️. Idk . I don’t know that we have enough clues to piece everything together, but this is where I’m at currently lol.

You’re prob regretting asking LMAO sorry!!!!!

[impracticalv2]

This app and the people so far have been really chill, so I'm gonna start posting stuff about my interest and whatever, so hello, this is like my proper introduction. I am NOT a social person. I fear social interaction so much, so I'm afraid of people online. I'm doing this whole thing to A. Get over this fear of mine & B. Make more friends because friends are awesome!

Who is this dude?

My friends normally just call me Philipe or Toast

(Both nicknames one from an old gamer tag and another just taken from my name)

I'm a strange person, and I'm not gonna try to act normal to please anyone. I am STRANGE, and I will be embracing it. Now, when I say strange, I don't mean like I'm collecting people's teeth and dried blood. I mean, when I'm speaking, I kinda just don't know what I'm saying. 70% of the time, I will be talking about absolutely f#ck all. (No idea how Tumblr is with swears and all that jazz, so just being safe)

Aside from me being a weirdo most the time the 30% of the time I'm grounded and using the pink thingy in my head to interact, I'm an enjoyable person. I am a YAPPER! When I get going, I won't stop unless someone says to stop, so don't be afraid to shut me down. I can also listen, but something is wrong with my ears, so you'd be hearing a whole lot of "Huh?" & "What'd you say?" I AM TRYING THOUGH I TRY REALLY HARD TO PAY ATTENTION AND LISTEN BUT IT'S DIFFICULT SOMETIMES.

What does this guy like?

Chances are, if you're reading this, I've got you hooked by my natural charm & overwhelming charisma! (I need this for my ego. Let. me. have. it.) Okay, now the part that may connect us. what in the hell am I interested?? Just gonna list some things I enjoy now.

Anime & Manga

Blue Lock (I mean come on it's in the pfp)

Jujutsu Kaisen (ik the ending was kind of lacking and the story just wasn't there sometimes but it has it's moments)

Dungeon Meshi/Delicious in Dungeon

Cyberpunk Edgerunners (The first anime to make me cry like I broke down I'm so serious)

Dragon Ball Z & Super

Jojo's Bizarre Adventure

I watch and read more than this I just can't for the life of me remember anything

Games

The Binding of Isaac (Love hate relationship)

Dead by Daylight (I'm a well-rounded player on both survivor and killer)

Don't Starve (Slowly getting a hang of what the hell I'm meant to be doing)

Guilty Gear Strive (Bridget inspired me to get a yo-yo and I've started practicing)

Minecraft (Everyone loves a bit of Minecraft every now and then)

Outlast Trials (AMAZING GAME BUT MY FRIENDS ABANDON ME ANYTIME A MONSTER COMES BY)

Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance (I play this game for the OST and gameplay I am NOT a hard-core metal gear lore enthusiast)

Ultimate Marvel Vs Capcom 3 (Iheartjustice made me wanna play Phoenix Wright)

Ace attorney

Roblox (Typical game to have in the lineup nowadays)

YouTuber's

FUNKe - Eye candy and the occasional 4 syllable word has my brain on lock

AstralSpiff - Speedrunner, Streamer, funny stories & a cute cat what more does a person need

SaltyPhish - Don't enjoy overwatch myself anymore but he's still funny

Jschlatt & Basically anything he's in (Sleep deprived, Chuckle Sandwich, collabs, ect)

Ted Nivision - His movie reviews are super funny

Slimecicle - He's goop that's all that really needs to be said

TheRussianBadger - like FUNKe but more, uh AMERICAN.

MichaelReeves - Crazy robot dude

Music & Artist

(To simplify this I'm gonna list the Artist and my favorite song by them)

Will Wood - Misanthrapologist

Sodikken - Redmaggedon

Lyn - Wake up, Get up, Get out there

Green Day - Lowlife (I KNOW IT'S A DEMO IDC IF IT'S LITERALLY PART OF JESUS OF SUBURBIA I STILL WANT IT TO BE A SEPARATE SONG)

Jorge Rivera-Herrans - No longer you

Bear Ghost - Gypsy

Twenty One Pilots - House of Gold

Rare Americans - Brittle Bones Nicky 2

Felix Hagan & the Family - Delirium Tremendous

The Long Faces - Jane!

I have more artist I like but the list just won't stop if I keep going.

Is this dude done talking yet?

Yup, now is the part where I wait for people to hopefully read this then like me, then message me, or however this app works, then FRIENDS! If you read all this, thanks because I spent like an hour typing this out because I'm sorta slow. AND IF YOU'RE READING THIS PART MESSAGE ME ALREADY CHANCES ARE YOU LIKE WHAT I LIKE IF YOU'RE HERE PRECIOUS TIME WE COULD BE CONNECTING IS BEING WASTED WHAT'RE YOU DOING?!?!?

I CAN FLYY DAYY (≧∇≦)/

[heavenlycloud]

the veil~ ღཾཿ༉ ༘჻ღཾཿ჻

four: you think i’m cute ‧₊˚ ⋅ ༘☆*.ﾟ

warnings: swearing, crying

pairing: huh yunjin x aespa 5th member! fem reader

summary: to be in the same place at the same time looking for the same thing is one hell of a coincidence. you both hope to find one another and the mutual ties of friendship may guide your way. so close to finding one another, just hope you don’t fall short and miss the opportunity.

author notes: its been SO long since my last update because i was traveling, in classes, now working, AND my laptop FUCKING BROKE ON ME???? so i managed to throw this chapter together using my phone and a glitchy ass version of google docs. there’s probably spelling errors i didn’t catch so sorry in advance!

this chapter might seem messy and not cohesive with the way it starts and ends but it’s because this chapter did get extremely long so due to that + mobile only letting me post 10 photos at a time—i have to split the chapter into two which will be posted soon as the next update. tag list is still open for those of you all who want to be added in, just comment or drop an ask in my inbox! lastly, feedback, comments, reblogs, questions, literally anything but hateful speech is welcome and very much appreciated!

̟ ̇ ˖ಎ˚˖࿔ masterlist 𓂅୨⊹ ₊˚๑

you jolted awake when you heard the front door to your dorm slam shut followed by muffled sobs and hurried steps to the bathroom. sleep clouded your thoughts and you tried to figure out what was going on elsewhere in the dorm when you went to move your laptop off your bed. you glanced over and noticed you were alone on the video call, and your match was gone. at first you were disappointed and part of you had clung onto the delusion that she’d stay on the call until you woke up. however, that feeling of disappointment was replaced with full blown panic when you saw your camera was turned on when you were 99.99% sure you’d left it off. the only thing keeping you from completely losing your shit was despite the camera being on, your image was blurred by default of the app settings. but, that in no way guaranteed that your identity remained unknown. the screen blur worked when people were sitting a considerable distance from their camera, not a few inches away like you had when you fell asleep. even after you hung up, you racked your brain trying to think about what you could do until you heard a quiet knock at your door.

aeri slipped into your room with tearstained cheeks and swollen eyes as she stood in front of you like a lost puppy. her entire body trembled and her breathing became erratic while she looked down with unfocused eyes. you asked in a serious tone, “are you hurt?” aeri shook her head and you pulled back your blankets and made room for her beneath the covers. she slipped in beside you and you brushed back a piece of hair that fell into her face. the scent of her coconut-apricot shampoo and herbal body wash watered down the lingering odor of alcohol that clung onto her words. there was a small silence before aeri sniffled, “why do i feel like such shit? i thought i would be over all of this by now but i feel the fucking same.” you frowned and ran a hand over her hair before replying softly, “gigi, it’s only been four weeks. you were with him for two years, it’s gonna take time.” you debated on adding on more, but you knew she’d have to hear the truth eventually, “and i know you don’t want to hear it but….running off to other boys and getting white girl wasted isn’t helping much either you know?” she sighed into your shoulder and admitted, “yeah yeah i know but i don’t know what else to do.” you pulled away and looked aeri in the eyes, “you have all of us here, and you can reach back out to your therapist. remember that you have people around you that are here and want to help you when you need it okay?” she nodded slowly and rested her head back on your shoulder before humming, “i will, i promise this time. but right now, i just wanna sleep okay?” you smiled weakly and pressed a kiss to your member’s head, “of course.”

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚✭・彡♡・✫.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

in the morning you found minjeong sitting alone in the kitchen poking at a bowl of fruit she’d cut up earlier that morning. she looked up and made eye contact with you before looking back down silently. you knew the reason for her being upset so you didn’t bother asking because it’d really only rub salt into the wound. instead, you tried to lighten the mood with another question, “are you excited for the Gucci Cruise Show tonight?” minjeong cracked a smile and responded, “elizabeth olsen is coming and IU sunbaenim! i’m gonna try to get pictures with them if i can.” you gave her a look and she scoffed, “i’m serious this time, i’m not gonna just stare at them from afar. ningning and aeri unnie are rubbing off their extrovert energy on me, i can feel it already.” you shook your head and laughed, “so i’m not going to get a call from you 10 minutes into the after party begging for me to bullshit up an excuse to our manager so you can leave?” minjeong’s face dropped and she glared at you, “shut up.” you threw your head back with laughter and she changed the subject, “how was your date last night? has she talked to you since then?” she saw how you suddenly stiffened at the mention of your match and awaited your reply nervously, “i think she knows who i am.”

aeri walked into the kitchen and sleepily rubbed her eyes, “who knows who you are?” she moved to sit on your lap but shot up when minjeong answered, “her match.” aeri already had her phone out with ningning on FaceTime so you could explain to them both: “i was watching the movies with her last night and it got super late and i guess i dozed off at some point. when i fell asleep my camera was off but when i woke up it was on. the screen blur was on but i was super close to the camera so like i don’t know if she could tell it was me…and i’m starting to think she knows because she hasn’t texted me at all this morning and usually she’s up now.”

ningning tried to offer a consolation, “well your hair isn’t a vibrant color right now and your lights were off so if she saw anything it probably wasn’t much.” aeri chimed in, “yeah and she might have had an early practice this morning and hasn’t had a chance to text you.” minjeong nodded in agreement and told you, “they’re right. it’s probably nothing to worry about.” you sank back into your chair again and picked at your cuticles as you let your mind wander to a world of negative ‘what ifs’. ningning snapped her fingers in front of your face and placed her hand over yours, “hey! stop that. everything is going to be fine so stop letting yourself worry about this girl. instead think about how you might see her tonight at the party.”

minjeong perked up and asked, “what party?” jimin emerged from the hallway while she answered, “it’s choi jisu’s birthday party. every year she has this massive celebration for her birthday.” aeri clapped her hands in excitement and continued, “there’s always a cool theme to go with it. last year it was Starry Night and she hosted it in a literal planetarium! this year’s theme is Masquerade Ball. it’s admission by invitation only and this year we’ve been invited AND management is actually letting us go!” the younger singer furrowed her brows and asked, “for an event so exclusive why is she inviting us when we’ve only met her in passing?” ningning chimed in, “when y/n and i were trainees jisu was also training here with us.” you pointed to her then added, “yeah jisu and i were close back then. it was only a few months because she left SM and we lost touch after that…but like i said we were close.” minjeong stared at you suspiciously and asked, “how close?” aeri snorted and slapped ningning’s arm as the two doubled over laughing. you whined, “not like THAT WINNIE OH MY GOD?!” the latter shrugged and plainly said, “hey i never know…people get around.” her gaze fell to jimin for a millisecond then to the floor as if she never said anything. ningning coughed awkwardly then blurted out, “okay well i uh…i have a thing.” the rest of you all scattered as well to go about your mornings before you had to start getting ready for the big night.

all you wanted to do this morning and afternoon was focus on the upcoming party, but you had to practice. you dragged your feet against the floor of the company building hallways until you reached your destination. music was already playing in the practice room when you opened the door and a blonde woman called out to you, “you’re late.” you turned to check the time on the wall clock just to see it’d been unplugged. instead you made a move to check your phone but the woman swiped it out of your hand before you got the chance to look at it. she playfully mocked the sassy retort you always gave her, “by two minutes.” when you scoffed in feign offense she reminded you, “which still means you’re late. get warmed up, i have to make a few calls.” the older woman walked out of the studio and you did as you were told, starting with some stretches to warm up your muscles.

four hours passed and it was just around lunchtime when you finished the main part of practice. you spun in a circle before falling to the floor in a dramatic dip earning a laugh from your mentor. she stared at you from above and shook her head in amusement before holding her hand out to help you up. when you held out a finger for her to give you a moment, she instead joined you on the floor. your chest slowly stopped heaving but the burning ache in your abdominal muscles remained. you rolled onto your stomach and let your face rest on your forearms with your eyes closed. the older woman patted your behind and praised you warmly, “you did really well today. i can see you’ve been working hard.” for a few moments you both sat in silence as she let you catch your breath before moving to stand up. you followed behind her and hesitated before asking, “wait- hyoyeon unnie….can i ask you something?” your mentor turned around and answered, “what’s wrong, babydoll?” the old nickname she gave you years ago slipped off her lips effortlessly bringing you a sense of security that washed away your nerves.

you tugged at the fabric of your pants and a smile grew on hyoyeon’s face, she loved when you got shy and embarrassed over things because it meant she could tease you about it later. slowly you asked, “can you teach me how to dance? you know how they do in the princess movies? like ballroom dance?” the older woman put her bag back down and clarified, “a waltz?” when you nodded eagerly and excitedly followed her back to the center of the room she laughed. she showed you the moves and explained them simply as you started to get the hang of it within a few short minutes. when she added music to it she started asking more questions, “why do you suddenly need to know this?” you followed her lead and answered as you both moved, “there’s a party tonight and the theme is Masquerade Ball…i just wanna know in case.” hyoyeon could see the way you were trying to hide your smile as you clearly pictured she was someone else. your mentor then prompted, “so it’s not in case you happen to dance with a certain someone?” you shook your head in refusal but she could see right through your lies, yet she didn’t question you. you told her about your outfit for the evening and how your members, minus minjeong, we’re going together as well.

when you both finished dancing to the song, she picked up your phone and handed it back to you. hyoyeon pulled you into a hug, “good work today, babydoll. have fun this evening and take pictures, okay.” you nodded and headed down opposite directions of the hallways as she tacked on, “good luck with your dance, im sure you’ll charm your princess.” you whipped around just to see her smiling at you as she shot a wink over her shoulder. she pointed to her phone then walked around the corner leaving you stunned to a silence. you realized what she meant and checked your lock screen which had numerous notifications that read: Lyra 🪐

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚✭・彡♡・✫.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

“god- soobin wait! shit fuck- i can’t breathe take it out! somi save me!” yunjin rasped out as her best friend squeezed the last breath out of her lungs while tying up the back of her gown. he let the ribbons go and threw his hands in the air, “somi you’re up. my hands are cramping from the last four times i did it..” somi huffed, “you’re being dramatic. jen come here.” she walked over to her and took a deep breath before yanking the ribbons to the back of the ball gown and tying it tightly. she patted yunjin on the shoulder, “see not so bad right?” yunjin coughed dramatically and winced, “i think you broke one of my ribs…” somi beamed “then i did it right. come on the car is downstairs.” kazuha, chaeyoung, and chloe were already waiting in another room for the other three and the six made their way down to the garage.

chloe gathered more handfuls of her dress’ lilac tulle topped with lavender and silver flowers as she walked and tried not to stumble over her own feet. she asked while looking around for somi’s car, “somi, remind me again how you expect to fit all of us in your car?” the blonde simply pointed to two black Cadillac Escalade trucks, “i got drivers.” the five friends looked at each other with shared glances before remembering this was their best friend they were talking about. chaeyoung helped kazuha into the truck first, picking up her forest green dress so not to ruin it. chloe followed behind her then chaeyoung filled in last, adjusting her navy blue blazer that was lined with silver hearts around the cuffs and trim. from the front seat, keeho turned around, “we waited down here for like an hour.” the girls rolled their eyes and ignored him, insisting that the music be turned up louder instead. meanwhile, soobin was busy helping somi and yunjin into the truck. yunjin went in first and somi followed in suit. her bubblegum pink gown took up a seat and a half, some of the tulle spilling onto beomhan’s lap when he sat behind her. soobin sat in the passengers seat before letting the driver know that everyone was here and they were ready to go.

“who did you invite tonight?” yunjin asked as she watched cars go by in the other street lanes. somi, who was in charge of jisu’s guest list, replied easily, “everyone in jisu’s address book…more or less.” yunjin asked in a more serious tone, “hold on, you didn’t invite jimin did you?” somi looked confused as she slowly answered, “yeah, why?” everyone in the car collectively started speaking over one another causing somi to raise her voice, “STOP YELLING AT ME AND TELL ME WHATS GOING ON!” beomhan lowered his voice as he told her, “she has a thing with ryujin while ryujin also has a thing with jisu. and before you ask yes jisu also has a thing with yeji. i don’t even know what it is honestly. the whole dynamic is a little weird she said. but apparently yeji and jisu are cool and they have their own little…thing. jisu also has a thing with ryujin too though and yeji knows obviously they like live together. but jisu says that she doesn’t really care who else ryujin wants to be with because they aren’t an exclusive thing, right. but then when someone tries to talk to jisu, ryujin gets all territorial, even when it’s yeji sometimes. she said ryujin will act like she’s only hers and her feelings get all hurt when jisu reminds her that they aren’t really a thing. and then in the same breath ryujin turns around with karina and acts like she didn’t even want jisu to begin with. i dunno it’s all just messy.”

yunjin frowned and asked curiously, “i thought karina had a thing with chaewon?” somi added on with a confused look too, “i thought she was messing around with winter?” beomhan pursed his lips as he explained further, “technically you’re both right. karina just has girls she messes with but nothing exclusive. ever since she and ryujin broke up a few months back she’s just been friends with benefits with a couple different people…including ryujin. i’m pretty sure all of them know they’re not the only ones she’s seeing.” soobin offered from the front seat, “well ryujin won’t be there tonight. she has that Gucci event. so even if karina does show up, ryujin wont be around to entertain her.” yunjin added with a shrug, “neither will chaewon.” the rest of the car ride everyone noticed yunjin in her own little world, completely ignoring when taylor swift came on the shuffle.

somi waved her hand in front of yunjin’s face, “jen? hellooooo???” the american singer then snapped out of her trance, “what? my bad what happened?” soobin pointed to the radio and said, “you didn’t sing to the past three taylor songs. are you okay? what are you thinking about?” she tried to play it off but even with the mask over her face it couldn’t hide the smile that pulled at her lips. beomhan glanced at her phone and noticed her Veil app open then he giggled, “she’s talking to her match.” the rest of her friends cooed and teased her before getting her to admit, “jasmine said she’ll be at the party.” somi gasped then questioned, “do you know what she’s wearing?” yunjin shook her head, “nope. she barely even told me she was coming.” soobin asked just as the car pulled into the lot, “do you know if she’s here yet?” yunjin once again refused, “nope.” all of them adjusted their masks over their eyes and secured the ribbons on the backs of their heads before heading into the building to find the massive ballroom. while the ballroom was on everyone else’s mind, all that was on yunjin’s was finding you.

⚠️‼️extra tweets and messages (important) ‼️⚠️

♡‧₊˚˘͈ᵕ˘͈‎ 彡♡ ༘*.ﾟ .·:¨༺ ʚ♡ɞ༻¨*:·.﹢࿐ ☆

authors notes: since i’m posting on mobile (my laptop is still being repaired) i can’t post all the messages and tweets id usually do for a chapter. that being said i can’t post the FULL chapter until i get my laptop back. HOWEVER i think it’ll be ready for pickup tomorrow. but cuz i’m working and i have a hectic week ahead i don’t wanna deprive you all of what i do have ready. and idk if i’ll be able to post again tomorrow even tho i’ll have my laptop back ☹️ so just know something big is coming and it is ready to be posted, i just need to get back on desktop! thank you all for being so patient and understanding i know i’ve been breaking promises with my updating schedule since may 😭 but thank you for sticking with me!

[crystalelemental]

Full tier list is here, breaking down the E-tier. I'll be honest, a lot of this tier is where I have general frustrations that aren't enough to make the significant dislike of F, but I have. Problems.

In case anyone was wondering, I am not going into the same depth as the last one.

Zinnia: neat concept, horrid execution. Delta episode sucks and she exudes nothing to me.

Hau: inoffensive but incredibly boring. Don't like the USUM decision to force him into serious battling.

Marnie: should be interesting as your rival, but all the neat stuff went to Piers, so she's super bland.

Malva/Siebold: Kalos E4 members I do not respect.

Gaeric/Calaba/Liam: Pearl Clan members I don't really care about.

Hugh: "You're about to feel my rage." Shut up, dweeb.

Kofu: bland.

Mina: uninterested, also your trial sucks ass.

Sophocles: I will never forgive Festival Plaza.

Molayne: couldn't care less.

Marlon: Centrist.

Burgh: Not flamboyant enough.

Magnolia: should be great! Unfortunately Galar decided to kick the only old lady professor we ever had to the curb for her hot granddaughter. Thanks for that.

Trevor: Dweeb, sucks at his only interest.

Maylene/Norman/Ramos/Wattson/Blaine: uninteresting Leaders.

Lana: Specifically bad in games, anime iteration is much improved. Games all she seems to do is go on about swimmers, which weirds me out.

Wulfric/Ilima: meh.

Giovanni: Loser lord supreme. Never accomplished a single goal his entire life. Literally had an entire criminal empire that kept Kanto in thrall that he probably inherited from his father, and lost it overnight to a ten year old boy and his rat. They keep trying to imbue him with some grand evil importance but he continuously shows us even in Masters that he is an impotent garbage man. I hear the manga makes him neat.

Juan: pointless, they should've done something more interesting to replace Wallace's gym.

Cress/Cilan/Chili: there's a reason you three weren't taking on Plasma.

Clemont: I actually do not like him, and the anime didn't help.

Bea: where are your organs?

Oleana: Actually really frustrating, because people seem to only like her for being blandly conventionally attractive, but she exudes nothing of a personality despite wild over-dependence on a man, and abuses Bede for personal gain. Hate her.

Misty: Never liked her, sorry.

Surge: Bootlicker.

Jacq: Man, I think it's just the "app designer" thing, but he rubs me the wrong way so bad.

Salvatore: actually inoffensive, but they give him nothing at all to work with.

Nita: I kinda like the Maison sisters, but Nita feels bland.

Buck: literally forgot his name.

Lucy: very little knowledge. I did like the anime iteration though.

Argenta: little to go on.

Benga: Kinda hate him after Masters had him talk to Lance. "You haven't been through enough to fight me, middle aged Champion man!" You are like twelve. Cool your jets.

Ortega: needs his ass beat. Not in like a bullying way, but in an "Eri needs to have a very blunt conversation about how manners work."

Mela: I am not compelled. Outfit is atrocious.

Victor: the unfair one. It's Reddit's fault.

Sina/Dexio: I never liked them to begin with, but then someone posited that Diantha could've used her acting skills to do their faux superhero thing in XY to keep infiltrating Team Flare and now I'll never forgive them.

Noland: eh.

Selene: cute outfit, nothing to work with.

Trace?: I hate the Let's Go rival. He's so bland and non-confrontational in every way. He exudes nothing to me.

Chase: Pikachu sucks, deal with it.

Elio: He gives me monkey child vibes. I do not like monkeys.

Juliana/violet boy: Really uninspiring protagonist designs.

Bellis: all you do is talk in different languages at random without reason and I hate that gimmick.

Wicke: exudes nothing but bad vibes. My wife caught it too and we agree, she should've just been evil.

Charon: at least a little funny in how boring he is.

Faba: bland and too expendable, easily dupes people into getting over Lusamine in USUM.

Archer/Ariana/Proton: Team Rocket just sucks, man. Nothing going on at all.

[pageseo2022]

Far Cry 5: Embrace the Classic Chaos and Unexpected Surprises

In Far Cry 5, the ‘fish-out-of-water’ vibe is totally clutch, especially when it comes to nailing the whole "getting it right" thing. You’re a US Marshal trying to shut down a cult that's deep-rooted in the fictional Hope County, Montana. Playing as a law enforcer makes the setup pretty wild. If you’re looking to enhance your gaming experience, you might also want to check out where to buy Xbox games to find more thrilling adventures like this. You’d think being on the right side of the law would make it easy to save the day, but nah, it’s not that simple. Instead of a smooth rescue, things go sideways fast—literally, with bodies hitting helicopter blades, and your whole escape plan goes off the rails. It’s actually pretty epic. After you pull off your escape, you might wonder why you can’t just call in the National Guard or Army for backup. Ubisoft’s got you covered with no phone signal in Hope County, so your phone’s pretty much a brick (rip apps). Your Marshal squad hasn’t been killed but captured, and innocents are also getting pulled into the cult’s mess, so duty calls. After a bit, when you’re told by the Ryes that it’s chill if you lose a plane, because they have “a hangar full of them,” you’ll remember the classic Far Cry vibe. So yeah, what you’re getting is classic Far Cry. It’s a wild ride for sure, especially with how real-life drama is syncing up with the game’s release. Expect cars to blow up unexpectedly, skunks to spray you while you’re sneaking around, and bears to pop out of nowhere. But that’s the Far Cry charm we’re all here for!

Far Cry 5: A Wild, Over-the-Top Snapshot of America

The changes here aren’t too wild either. Towers are out. You’re not a voiced character anymore. You can be any gender. Support AI is back, but now with a way bigger roster. Plus, you can roll with your own dog or bear. It’s pretty stripped down, but the way the game lets you play it is the real highlight. If you’re thinking of trying something new, you might want to buy PS5 games that offer this level of customization and freedom. I mentioned before that this game is a chaos simulator, and that’s spot-on. Even when you’re just trying to move on to the next quest or side mission, the game’s chaos will find you. But that chaos actually pushes you to focus on the more structured parts of the game. Far Cry 5 is no walk in the park. You’ll need to use that loot, spend that cash you keep finding, upgrade your weapons to fit your style, and leverage those liberated towns and allies. Honestly, this is the best way Ubisoft Montreal could have done the liberated gameplay. The tone of this Far Cry is dark, gritty, and sometimes a bit on-the-nose—think first-person GTA, but even more over-the-top. It’s like all the wild villains and crazy elements from past Far Cry games rolled into one. Far Cry 5 is silly, fun, brutal, and scary, all at once. It’s like a wild mix of lost and found, and in a lot of ways, it’s also a snapshot of America.

Far Cry 5: Balancing Cultist Depth with Classic Open-World Fun

Structurally, Far Cry 5 mixes things up from previous games by not holding your hand or pushing a set developer-driven path. This is where the GTA vibes come in—though it’s not a dig at Rockstar’s games. Those have a serious tone that works well for them. Far Cry 5, though, leans into the wild and wacky. The HBO-level intro sets a unique tone that shows just how bonkers the situation is. Whether it’s ham radios, landlines, the Internet, or even a postcard, you might think there’s a way out of this mess and a chance to boot Joseph Seed and his crew. But honestly, none of that matters because there’s a bear named Cheeseburger that you need to rescue. The game dives deep into cultist research and real-world parallels, but once you’re a few hours in, it’s all about being a classic liberated Far Cry game, and that’s a good thing. The gunplay is top-notch, the world is rich and diverse, and the less rigid gameplay structure is a breath of fresh air. Distractions come fast and furious, with the game happily pulling you away from critical story missions to race a quad bike, go fishing, or fly a plane through smoke rings. That’s what makes Far Cry 5 so awesome.

Far Cry 5: Outrageous Fun Meets Chilling Intensity

Far Cry 5 comes packed with co-op, multiplayer, and a full-on player-creator mode, and trust me, they’re all used to their max. The game is stunning, with a soundtrack that deserves its own shout-out. It totally channels vibes from shows like Deadwood, Justified, and Westworld, which really helps immerse you in its world. But it also throws in some epic 80s and 90s action movie soundbites and cues, making it clear the studio had a blast making this game. In the end, you get a Far Cry that’s both structured and open, giving you tons of player choice and unexpected moments. It’s a world designed for you to love, get close to, and be totally freaked out by. It’s classic video game fun at its core. Sure, the Seeds are "bad seeds," but that’s part of the joke. It’s one thing to face real-life horrors, but this game lets you have a blast while doing it. Ubisoft’s hit the perfect balance between outrageous fun and chilling intensity.

[buddyapologist]

just ranting about ableism and such <3

i have this thing where i Have to see the sides of every issue even when one side is absolutely reprehensible, not in terms of justification but in terms of working backwards to see how someone could come to this reprehensible conclusion, because it's grotesquely fascinating to me how people can start from a relatively milquetoast point A and end up at some disgustingly bigoted horrible point Z. anyway it isn't bigotry but the way "both sides" (if there even are only 2) treat the argument of "mental illness as an excuse" is so fucking frustrating because i can see exactly where people come from and exactly which conclusions make sense and which ones are absolutely bonkers.

mental illness can cause serious disruptions in someone's life in ways that might hurt them and/or other people, but neurotypical people will also accidentally hurt themselves and/or other people. it changes how we perceive the world and our relationships with others and that can make us act based on a perspective that isn't always based on reality. it can make us behave erratically, lash out over what seems like nothing, be terrified of things that don't seem like they should be terrifying, completely shut down and withdraw from stressful situations. neurotypical people will also sometimes do this. to paraphrase another tumblr user, neurodivergence/mental illness is not "traits that only we have and nobody else", it's when certain traits are exaggerated to the point that it interferes with your life.

it really really really fucking frustrates me when random people will allegedly pin their really shitty behavior on addiction and mental illness. because yes, those things can make us do awful stuff! i have done horrible shit while i was addicted and when i was in bad spaces mentally. but every time someone is like "sorry for being racist i have anxiety" it adds to reasons our debilitating disorders don't get taken seriously. you can just be sorry. i'm so fucking sick of people who get called out for being predators or bigots or scammers or just huge assholes and they throw us under the bus in some attempt to excuse their bullshit when it literally never does, it just makes us look worse. a certain celebrity who i won't name apparently has bipolar disorder and is also a raging antisemite. those two things are not related! there are tons of people with bipolar disorder who are NOT raging antisemites!

and these fucking bullshit notes app apologies are SO different from like, apologizing to your friend. if you're a dick to your friend bc of some aspect of your illness and they call you on it it totally makes sense to go "i'm sorry i behaved that way, sometimes having x disorder makes me act a certain way and i'm sorry i took that out on you, i'll do better next time". bc that's NEVER how shitty scammer racist influencers phrase it. they think that they can pass off their bullshit by claiming that they're mentally ill and that makes it okay. neurotypicals will go off with their usual chant of "mental illness is an explanation but not an excuse" and "mental illness is your responsibility" and those aren't even incorrect but i'm so fucking sick of it because WE KNOW. NEURODIVERGENT PEOPLE KNOW THIS. the only people who act like that are people who use our very real very serious conditions that have MORTALITY RATES to try to pass off their behavior. nobody is breaking any new fucking ground when they say this shit. it's the same thing over and over and over again and it's so fucking exhausting as a neurodivergent person whose mental problems have severely fucked with their life and their relationships.

and then neurodivergent people who give them the benefit of the doubt may be like "you're gatekeeping mental illness by saying that these people don't have it" but the thing is, yeah maybe they do actually have it, but i don't care. i do not fucking care. i don't care if racist youtuber #2846 has every diagnosis under the sun, it has no business being in some half assed apology their manager made them post because being racist or any other shitty thing is separate. and i do genuinely understand why people will get mad about people like me saying this stuff, bc a lot of neurodivergent people deal with medical gatekeeping and aren't given proper help or diagnoses bc of poverty or gender or race or just the environment they're in, and that does suck. but i'm not talking about those people. i'm talking about dipshits who try to use it as an excuse while definitely knowing nobody will let them off the hook if they blame depression or whatever. literally all it does is make us look worse.

this is an extremely long rant that nobody will read, i just had to get it out of me before i explode <3

[sextions]

gonna fucking kill someone today. had to look around for security cameras in this room before writing this cuz im in a fucking prison for young people and every day our rights get stripped further and further and they expect us to function normally after being spat out after graduation. i'm not going to college. my mom is gonna yell at me for that but i'm fucking not i don't care what she thinks. the stupid fucking vending machine next to me has a goddamn 'calories count check then choose' label on it. what fucking performative stupid goddamn bullshit that dumbass label is the thing that tipped me over the edge into making this stupid post. maybe don't sell death sugary slop to people and they won't have this goddamn issue of everyone being too fat and mentally ill to make it into the meat grinder that is the military. i know food choice has little to do with how your body fat works shut up about it already i was gonna go to college for nutrition i know how that shit works. but if i went they'd likely still be in the "being obese is YOUR fault" phase of food and health knowledge and i just i cannot bear paying thousands and thousands of dollars to get some info that is objectively false according to recent studies. god. i'm so sick of this shit once i graduate i'm literally never going into another institiution again literally they cannot make me this is such bullshit. has anyone else read john taylor gatto? changed my life. this stupid asshole next to me can't handle the word 'moist' and makes a huge show of how much she hates it every time it's uttered and it's like god i wish i was that sheltered. i wish the biggest problem in my head was how much i hated the word moist. what a stupid thing to attract attention to yourself for. shut up. everyone just shut up. the music in my headphones shut up. dumb fucking assholes shut up. all the freshman who are lower than the sea life stuck to the bottom of a cruise ship shut the FUCK up. you're not funny for saying nkgger you don't even hate black people that much you're just ignorant and want attention. your material is derivative and unoriginal and you cannot find genuine vulnerability and appreciation for beauty because you're too busy being poisoned by your peers into thinking everything is stupid and one day one of you is gonna kill themselves and everyone else will joke about it because what else do you know to do. it's sad really the way we are raising these men. panera lemonade killed a girl. caffeine users will really find meth and adderall users disgusting failures because they "use drugs" unlike the fucking. caffeine users who also use drugs but oooo its so normalized you know what else is normalized? driving 80 miles a goddamn hour down the interstate. that's so scary what the fuck. why does nobody care how fast we are going. why is everyone going so fast going 90 95 down the interstate the world needs to fucking slow down and i'm so serious. we need to wake up slower and get to school slower and my classes went from an hour or so to 40 minutes and the teachers barely even skim over anything anymore and tiktok is still this fucking cancer on society that makes people think mass surveillance for "weird" "clickable" behavior is normal and im tearing my hair out every day because people are AMAZED i don't have the no attention span give me all your data and buy products off of our app app. god. tik tok made me buy it is the most pre-packaged artificial stupid fucking slogan ever it always ruins my mood seeing that stupid fucking section at walmart. like are you kidding me. companies are so bad at trying to seem human anymore. you have to astroturf everything because if the people do it themselves they might THINK or ACHIEVE SOMETHING for once. i don't even think i used astroturfing right. it's got the same vibe of taking something from the people (self-advertisement to a different site or product) and hijacking it and making your own fucking store so people can give the money to you instead. its so crazy and nobody talks about how tiktok has a STORE. like it's normal.

everything makes me want to scream. i will never truly fully get a break from this. everyone is getting angrier and angrier but i dunno if we're at a breaking point yet. i might not live to see the revolution which bums me out but i try to keep optimistic about that. i saw that republican debate today and got such strong second hand embarrassment. that shit is no better than jersey shore at this point. and these are the people we're supposed to aim to be like? people who are qualified to be presidents? people who are so reactionary and childish that they throw insults at one another in a politics debate like a bunch of middle schoolers parroting what their parents say at each other? are you fucking kidding? john gatto was right the rich are so fucking good at extending adolescence into adulthood. look at these people over thirty engaging in high school behavior to appease the other high school masses who'll tweet and click and talk about it (like high schoolers) and then the debate cuts to an ad break because money money money money money money. they probably already have the president decided and this is all one big billboard or something. i dunno. drugs are seen as a moral failure but like what else is there to do in this goddamn fucking world we've made. i didn't ask for this.

[carolmunson]

HERE WE GOOOO:

He holds up the Soundgarden CD before using his teeth to rip open the cellophane covering the plastic case.

Shut up that's so him to use his teeth.

His face softens. “You’re a doll.” 

I'm gonna lose my mind.

"Listen to this transition," he insists, his voice filled with the same awe that it always does when he talks about music, "The shift from acoustic to electric guitar is seamless."  “I wish I could hear it the way you do.”

Why did this innocent exchange already inform me that I'm going to be sad about this entry.

“It’s lyrics that hook you. You’ve always got so many words floating around in that big brain of yours.”  

GOD.

“Just stay here with me tonight, okay?” Rolling to your side, you wrap your hand across his chest, offering him the only protection that you can.  “Yeah, okay.”

Don't even LOOK AT ME RIGHT NOW.

Unknown: I admit last night could have gone better. Let me make it up to you. Coffee? After tapping in your passcode, you open the message app to reply. You: Wrong number

This is me coded.

His shoulders slump as he looks across to the cherry built-in shelves holding the rows of tailored suits hung by progression of color. “You always look beautiful.”

God I love my hot sexy brooding hulking husband, also.

“How else am I going to keep spoiling you?” He stands, dropping the towel and picking up the black Tom Ford boxer briefs he set out before his shower. 

The pain I was feeling before? Currently healed. I am team Steve for now.

Unknown: Nice try, doll. Robin gave me your number.

I am wavering.

“What do you have going on today?” The well-defined muscles of his sculpted shoulders, earned from never skipping a day at the gym, flex before disappearing into his shirt sleeves.

Nope, still team Steve.

He possesses zero patience, holds a disdain for people, and dismisses any music created after 1978.

Every man in my family.

"Well, it's time to get reacquainted. I want a series chronicling the opening of CursedSound Recordings, and I want you to write it."

UGH. I audibly groaned.

“Give it to Miles.” “I’m giving it to you. Morales is busy with–”

I see you there, hehehe.

The mention of Steve’s name sets your teeth on edge. He hadn't breathed a word about this assignment earlier, and now he's reaching out to Hopper, painting a picture as if you're disrespecting your editor and exploiting your personal connections to secure a story.

OMG! LITTLE SNEAK!

The crystal blue of the cassette is dulled behind the transparent black window, but you can still make out the handwriting on the yellowed label.  For when you miss me. “Did you ever listen?” Everyday. 

There are tears in my eyes right now. I literally have goosebumps.

“You’re moody,” he accuses, leaning closer to your ear to be heard over music. “No, I’m not.” “It’s true,” he shakes his head. “You’re moody. Moody dick.”

LMAO Argyle is really my MVP here. I love him.

“Now we're here, with my future baby mama killing it on stage, and you’re sucking all the energy out of the room.”

He would be SO down bad for Santi.

His face turns serious as he explains, “It’s like surfing. We all want that wave that’s just out of reach. Especially if someone else is riding it.”  “How did you get so wise?” You ask.  “I don’t know. Must be all the weed,” he says with a hand on your shoulder, turning you toward the bar. “Let’s go get another drink.”

JELLLYYYY YOUR MIND. I'm literally losing it. He's so funny, perfect characterization for his character in a more modern setting. I'm obsessed.

“The content Stax puts out is directly under my approval, just like Metro and the Newsdesk and every other division.” His voice, which has been steady and even until now, begins to rise, “I’m not going to call you and ask for permission every time I make a decision. Eddie and I have kept in touch. How do you think we landed that interview with Radiohead last year when they wouldn’t even sit down with Rolling Stone?"

Big boss Steve is so fine I am chewing on glass.

.“But I'll tell you one more thing—you are going to write this story.” He waves a hand toward the bathroom. “Now, go wash your face.”

Don't yell at me, but also like...keep yelling at me.

He places a final tender kiss on your temple, his eyes closing as his features turn peaceful. But for you, even in this stillness, another song lingers in your mind, its lyrics echoing like a secret.

:(

I know I'm not going to survive this. I already miss my music afficionado boyfriend. I already need him. I already love him. You can literally feel the slight pull reader has whenever she talks to him or is near him -- it's so buzzy. And even though she loves Steve there's such a SLIGHT -- SLIGHT disconnect that doesn't flow as well with him as it does with Eddie.

I am literally SO excited for the next chapter, I want to eat this story like a three course dinner.

Torn | Song 2 | Masterlist

Twelve years after Eddie Munson broke your heart for a life on the road with nothing but a mixtape as a goodbye, you finally feel like you have two feet on the ground. Engaged to Steve Harrington with the career of your dreams it feels like you’re going to have your happily ever after, but what happens when the boy that broke your heart comes back as a man with a revelation that changes everything?

TW: Femreader, Love🔺️, Smut, Mentions of DV, 18+ No minors WC:6558 beta'd by @superblysubpar

Plink.

Plink. Plink. Plink.

The old wooden frame of your window groans against the track, burdened with too many layers of paint to make the slide smooth. The swirls of creamy pinks and oranges have faded hours ago into the star-lit summer sky. The boy is below, standing in your backyard, fist full of pea gravel taken from a neighbor's garden. A smile twisting his lips lifts his cheeks, putting dimples on full display as he looks up at you from the darkness below. You raise a finger, signaling for him to wait before you turn away. Tossing a few things in your empty backpack, you take a pillow from your bed, and your comforter is wrestled free from the mattress. With careful footsteps, you creep down the stairs, stopping in the kitchen. The light from the fridge casts a triangle across the floor as you take a few Capri Suns to add to your bag. Leaving through the slider, the end of your blanket trails behind you through the grass that was trimmed that morning. You slip off your flip-flops, leaving them beside a pair of larger, well-worn sneakers with a chain wallet tucked inside the right shoe. Eddie bounces on the trampoline, his sock-covered feet launching him into the air, arms stretched for balance. You toss everything on before climbing on with him. With a final bounce, he lands on his butt beside you, grinning. 

“I got it,” you tell him, tossing the pillow behind you.

“Nah-uh.”

"My dad took me to Tower this afternoon." Rummaging in your pack, you pull out a Discman and over-the-ear headphones with the cord in a tangled mess. "I could only get two. I had to choose between Rage," you begin, ticking off album titles on your fingers, “Soundgarden, STP, and Pearl Jam.”

“And?”

Taking out the CDs, you press them against his chest, letting go as soon as his fingers go around them. His brown eyes widen as he examines what’s in his hands as you pick apart the knotted cord.

“Songs from the Vatican Gift Shop AND Down on the Upside? You haven’t even opened this one.” He holds up the Soundgarden CD before using his teeth to rip open the cellophane covering the plastic case.

“I waited for you.” You smile.

His face softens. “You’re a doll.” 

He lies back, his head nestling into your pillow, hands clasped behind his head, gazing up at the sky. After putting the CD into the player, you follow him, pulling the comforter over you both and resting your head on his bicep. The headphone speakers are flipped out, tucked between you, as Chris Cornell's melancholic voice begins to seep into your ears, velvety and dark like the night itself.

"Listen to this transition," he insists, his voice filled with the same awe that it always does when he talks about music, "The shift from acoustic to electric guitar is seamless." 

“I wish I could hear it the way you do.”

As you gaze skyward, a slender branch sways in perfect rhythm with the chords, green leaves fluttering with the bass. The stars multiply and shimmer as if they’re caught up in the flow of the song. 

“You do,” he says, his head turning toward you, “You’re the only one I know who loves it as much as I do.” He studies your face, his eyes locking with yours. The music building until it’s too intense, and he looks away. “It’s lyrics that hook you. You’ve always got so many words floating around in that big brain of yours.”  

The disc spins, and you both listen, the scent of lilacs wafting in on the breeze, and fireflies painting the sky with their gentle glow. Time passes in the slow way it only does for kids on a cool summer night.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?” He answers, eyes closed.

“Are they fighting again?”

He doesn’t talk about it, but everyone knows—an ugly secret festering on an otherwise picture-perfect street. No one wants to get their hands dirty by getting involved. 

“Why won’t she leave him?” A simple question in a world of black and white.

“I want her to,” his adams apple bobs as he swallows, “She says she loves him.”

“Just stay here with me tonight, okay?” Rolling to your side, you wrap your hand across his chest, offering him the only protection that you can. 

“Yeah, okay.”

When you wake the following morning, the songs and memories you were reacquainted with last night have faded to a dull throb–much like the martinis. But remnants of their lyrics persist,  crawling under your skin, irritating like an itch, a tune hummed without the words to accompany it. Your phone’s screen lights up with an incoming text, the short burst of vibration sending it skittering across the surface of your nightstand. It takes a moment for your bleary eyes to focus on the notification on your lock screen.

Unknown: I admit last night could have gone better. Let me make it up to you. Coffee?

After tapping in your passcode, you open the message app to reply.

You: Wrong number

Darkening your screen, you let your phone slip from your hand onto the bed beside you. With a sigh, you lean back, staring at the ceiling, seeking answers that remain elusive. The scent of brewing dark roast and toasting bagels rises up the stairs with the sounds of Steve moving around the kitchen. A cup of coffee (or five) and a shower is what you need to wash away the past and leave it firmly where it belongs– in your rearview. 

It's the bottom of your second cup when Steve into your massive walk-in closet with a towel wrapped around his waist, fresh from the shower, his hair still damp, the freckled skin of his chest looking golden in the soft glow of the elegant pendant lights. 

“Is that what you're wearing to work?” He asks.

“Um, yeah.” You finish buckling the strap of your chunky mary-janes. “Something wrong with it?” you ask, catching sight of yourself in the mirror, dark distressed jeans and a band tee recut into a fitted v-neck. 

“Of course not,” he sighs, running his hand through his hair before sitting down heavily on the leather bench. His shoulders slump as he looks across to the cherry built-in shelves holding the rows of tailored suits hung by progression of color. “You always look beautiful.”

Taking your watch from the marble top of the large center island, you wander over to where he’s seated. He hooks a finger into one of the large holes in your jeans, tugging you over to stand between his legs, his big hands wrapping around the backs of your thighs.

“Guess I’m just missing the days of wearing jeans and a jersey to work,” he says, his smile not smoothing the faint crease in his brows.

“You traded that in for a car service and a big fat paycheck,” you point out, kissing the top of his head and moving back to your side of the closet to select a blazer.

“How else am I going to keep spoiling you?” He stands, dropping the towel and picking up the black Tom Ford boxer briefs he set out before his shower. 

“Steve, I don’t need all of this,” your hand sweeps in the air, gesturing to the lit shelves holding more clothes and shoes than you could ever need. “Just take me to a concert every once in a while.” Your voice trails off as notification chimes on your phone.

Unknown: Nice try, doll. Robin gave me your number.

“Can you imagine if we were still in that cramped apartment in Lincoln Park?” He scoffs, pulling on a light gray pair of suit pants. “We were tripping over all our stuff.”

Steve found the three-bedroom, three-bath brownstone on a tree-lined street in the ritzy Gold Coast neighborhood just after he got promoted from Metro, marking the beginning of his rise up the ranks in Second City Media. He spent a year and a chunk of his trust fund on a meticulous renovation before the two of you moved in. It is beautiful—large air rooms with lofty ceilings adorned with pristine white crown molding and wainscotting throughout, giving a modern but classic feel. Living with so much space is lavish in a city of this size. But you would be just as happy back on that ratty couch in Lincoln Park, drinking beer straight from the bottle and eating pizza without the fuss of plates, working on your laptop while he watched a Cubs game. Steve is driven–determined to be a success, and he is, but with the money came the stress. And it’s taking a toll.

Your finger hovers over the block button, but you press add to contacts instead. “Hey,” you change the subject, slipping your phone into your jacket pocket, “Did you ever look into that sailing charter you wanted to book out at the lake? We could do that this weekend?”

“I wish I could, Ace. I’ve got those weekend meetings about the streaming radio we're trying to launch. Pick out a tie for me?” He asks, pulling off a starched black button-up from its hanger.

“Sure.” You walk over and spin the rack holding up dozens of ties on shiny brass hooks.

“What do you have going on today?” The well-defined muscles of his sculpted shoulders, earned from never skipping a day at the gym, flex before disappearing into his shirt sleeves.

“Not a lot.” You pull the silky slip of deep maroon fabric off its hanger. “Lola is put to bed for this year. I just have an album review to finish up and a meeting with my editor today. Maybe a series on the Fall tours?” You propose, mostly to yourself, as you bring him his tie.

“Maroon, huh?” One brow raises with the question, “I would have picked black.”

“I know.” The corner of your lips turn up in a sly smile before you rise to your toes and place a kiss on his mouth, “I’m gonna go.”

“You want my driver to drop you off?” He asks, looking in the mirror and adjusting his tie.

“Nah, I’ll drive myself. Argyle and I are going to the Subterranean for drinks. Santigold is performing. Do you want to come?” You throw out, picking up your ancient army green messenger bag you can’t bear to part with, straining with the fullness of your laptop and notes.

“I’ll pass. Not really my scene.” As he fastens his gold cufflinks, they catch the gleaming light.

“You never come to shows with me,” you sigh. 

“I know, I know. I’ll try and catch the next one,” he says, sliding his feet into shiny Italian leather shoes. “I’m meeting Robin for lunch. You want to join us?” 

“No. I’ll let you have your girl time.” You blow him a kiss before heading out the door. 

 “See you tonight, okay?” 

“Love you. See you tonight,” he calls after you.

Passing through rooms decorated with rich creams and calming moss greens, you yell over your shoulder, “Tell Robin I said we don’t have any more room for paintings of flowers that look like vaginas.” 

“They’re a good investment,” his voice fades as you jog down your stairs, grabbing your keys from the stained-glass bowl on the table beside the door, ignoring the buzz coming from your pocket. 

The world is full of cliches. Many become so ingrained that we accept them as unwavering truths.  Every cloud has a silver lining. Don’t judge a book by its cover. Actions speak louder than words. A rotten apple will spoil the bunch. Don’t spit into the wind. Well, that last one is just good advice, but there is one that has stuck with you. Love what you do, and you’ll never work a day in your life. Music is your deity, and working at Stax is where you worship at its altar, spreading the Gospel of John, Paul, George, and Ringo. It’s a place where your lifelong obsession is not only validated, it’s celebrated. Your journey leading up to this point feels like destiny, like the universe conspired to harmonize your two greatest loves—the lyrical power of words and the soul-stirring magic of music. Each day within these walls is a new chord, a different tempo, and you revel in the ever-changing rhythm of your life. One spent intertwined with the music and the people that create it. The magazine's pages are your stage, your canvas, and with every keystroke, you paint the stories of the music, offering them to those who care to listen.

Without taking your eyes off your laptop screen, you reach for your coffee mug only to knock over the tittering tower of CDs that you had stacked on the corner of your cluttered desk. The plastic jewel cases meet the cement floor with a shattering crash, the noise echoing off the walls of the open industrial space that houses the offices for Stax Magazine in the heart of Fulton Market District. Clapping comes from other desks as you chase the discs rolling on their sides in all directions. Pausing, you bend into a dramatic curtsey, earning chuckles as the applause dies out. The perpetual chaos of your desk has become an ongoing punchline in the office banter. Your phone begins to ring at the same time an IM pops on your screen - both from your editor, the enigmatic J. Hopper. 

“Art Garfunkel’s house of pizza,” you say by way of greeting, trying to get the CDs back in their cases and toppling a pile of mail in the process.

“Where are you? Why aren’t you here? We had a meeting at 2,” comes the gruff voice of a man who's clearly not amused.

“It’s only one forty,” you reply.

“Get your ass in here now,” he yells, disconnecting. 

Hopper's bark has always been more bluster than bite. The towering, older man has been a fixture in this building since its days as a "hard-hitting" newspaper. While the city has evolved and transformed, Hopper and this old brick building have remained resolute, like an immovable rock in the ever-shifting stream of time. He possesses zero patience, holds a disdain for people, and dismisses any music created after 1978. You love him as much as your own father. He offered you a position fresh out of college when other magazines wouldn’t take a chance. He's pulled out your best work, often sending you back to your desk like a pouting child, making you the writer you are today. The wisdom he’s imparted is beyond the reach of any professor or workshop, and for that, you’ll always be grateful.

With a gentle rap of your knuckles against the frosted glass, you step into Hopper's office. He's seated behind a substantial oak desk, buried beneath a mountain of paperwork. A hint of cigar lingers in the air, though you've never been able to catch him smoking. He remains engrossed, squinting at his desktop screen with a furrowed brow. Settling into one of the vintage leather club chairs, you wait for his acknowledgment, your gaze drifting across the framed magazine covers and photographs lining the walls. One of a much younger Hopper clad in a tattered flak jacket catches your eyes. His face smeared with dirt and grit, standing amidst the ruins of a war-torn Kosovo street, a city reduced to chaos.

"Where’s my album write-up?" He asks without looking up. 

"I emailed it to you before lunch," you reply, confirming on your phone. 

He pushes back from his desk, propping up his feet on the edge, and offers you a soft smile from under the bushy mustache covering his lip, "How are you, kid? Everything okay? Harrington treating you, right?"

"Of course, Hop. He knows he'd have to answer to you otherwise. What about you?" You ask, leaning forward, "Is Joyce looking after you? Making sure you're watching that cholesterol?"

"Yup, she's got me eating all these organic vegetables, no booze, no smokes. Kinda takes all the fun outta life." He laces his hands behind his head, stretching out his back. 

"Oh yeah, does that include that bottle hootch you got stowed in your bottom drawer?"

He sits up with a quick move, pointing his finger in your direction. "You don't know anything about that. Are we clear?"

The only one who can scare Hopper is Hopper's wife. 

"I don't know. What are you going to do if I give Joyce a call? Seems to me that's something she'd want to know," you tease, crossing your arms over your chest. 

"You'd be out on that sidewalk before you hung up the call. Don't test me." He shakes a finger at you, "Now, what are you pitching me?"

"Well, I'm going to a club tonight, so I'll have a live performance review. And I was thinking of a piece on the bands touring this Fall. Kind of like a road map that the readership could follow and hit all the good shows."

"Those sound good, kid, but I got a feature for you to cover." He leans forward, narrowing his eyes, "You know this Eddie Munson character?"

The blood drains from your face. "No. Not-not really," you stammer, "we're from the same town, but I haven't seen him in years."

"Well, it's time to get reacquainted. I want a series chronicling the opening of CursedSound Recordings, and I want you to write it."

A featured series is something that other journalists fight over, and usually, you'd jump at the chance, but not this time. Not this series. Not Eddie Muson. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say, looking down at your lap.

“You don’t think–”

“Give it to Miles.”

“I’m giving it to you. Morales is busy with–”

“I don’t want it,” the words burst out of your mouth before you think better of it. Less than twenty-four hours after seeing Eddie, your world is spinning out of control.

Hopper's face turns to steel as he plucks the pen from behind his ear and throws it down on the desk. “I think that you’ve forgotten how this works. I give you an assignment. You write it.”

Your lips part before the protest in your brain is fully formed. 

“If you’re about to tell me no again, it better be followed by a damn good reason.”

His eyes are locked on yours while he waits for a response, one brow raised in challenge. 

“Listen, kid,” he picks up a stack of papers, shuffling through them as he talks, “I’ve looked into this Munson character. He has a good reputation in L.A. His name is in the credits for over half the multi-platinum releases in the last five years. And word is, his studio is booked out with big names for a year in advance.” He pauses for a moment to be sure his words sink in. “Establishing a good relationship with him is in the magazine's best interests. And what's good for the magazine is good for you. Are you hearing me?”

“Yes, Hop,” he answers for you when you remain quiet. 

“Yes, Hop,” you repeat.

“Good,” he says, lacing his fingers together. "The printed word isn’t worth what it used to be. Everything's gone digital, the never-ending twenty-four-hour news cycle. The competition's cut-throat out there. Trust me, our friends over at Spectrum would eat this up for Chicago Lifestyles. Frankly, I’m surprised at you. I thought you’d be all over this. Especially since it was proposed by corporate. I figured you went around me and pitched it to Harrington directly.”

The mention of Steve’s name sets your teeth on edge. He hadn't breathed a word about this assignment earlier, and now he's reaching out to Hopper, painting a picture as if you're disrespecting your editor and exploiting your personal connections to secure a story.

“I would never do that,” you shake your head. 

"Alright then. Call Byers at Metro," Hopper instructs, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. "Bring him with you. His assignment is just wrapping up."

You nod, your blood boiling and your mind racing. Taking a deep breath to compose yourself, you finally reply with an outward calm, "Okay."

Hopper's eyes remained fixed on you, his brow furrowing slightly. "Now, why are you still here wasting my time? Get out."

You don’t need any more prompting. Swiftly, you rise from your seat and make your way out of Hopper's office, formulating plans to murder your fiancé.

With a heavy sigh, you sit back down at your desk. The Stax logo bounces off the edges of your laptop screen. Your phone lights up with a photo of Steve. You let it ring a few times before sending it to voicemail. A few colleagues linger nearby, mugs in hand, their idle chatter blending with the hum of printers and the rhythmic clacking of keyboards. Your to-do list sits on your desk with strike-throughs on only half the tasks, but the priority of the ones remaining isn’t enough to capture your attention. 

Reaching down, you tug at the handle of your tightly packed bottom desk drawer. It sticks, protesting the overload.  The bright yellow color of the Sony Sports Walkman stands out from among the other clutter. You hesitate when reaching for it, the beginnings of the ache already tightening your chest. But you can’t resist, your hand closes around it, pulling it and the headphones coiled around out from under a pile of old concert passes attached to lanyards. 

Swiveling your chair away from the desk, you face the windows and slip the headphones onto your ears. A gentle press of your thumb produces a satisfying click, and a soft crackling sound fills your ears as the capstans start to whir.

The crystal blue of the cassette is dulled behind the transparent black window, but you can still make out the handwriting on the yellowed label. 

For when you miss me.

“Did you ever listen?”

Everyday. 

A bird's eye view of the stage is perfectly spaced in your viewfinder, with Santi downstage dominating the mic, her other arm outstretched to the fervent crowd. Your finger clicks the shutter as a text pops on the screen.

Eddie: Seems this city isn’t so big after all.

With a huff, you close the screen, pocketing your phone.

“What’s going on with you?” Argyle shouts over the crowd, handing you back your drink as you both lean over the black-painted railing on the balcony at The Subterranean.

"Nothing," you reply, your gaze returning to the stage where Santigold is Chasing Shadows. 

“You’re moody,” he accuses, leaning closer to your ear to be heard over music.

“No, I’m not.”

“It’s true,” he shakes his head. “You’re moody. Moody dick.”

The corners of your lips lift as you roll your eyes.

“This wouldn't have anything to do with mister dark and handsome sound engineer guy from last night, would it?” He probes as someone bumps into you from behind, throwing you off balance.

Your eyes narrow as he steadies you with a hand on your elbow. 

“Hey, I know things,” he says, sipping his drink and looking back out over the crowd.

“Oh, yeah?” You ask, turning and leaning on the banister to face him, “What do you know?”

He turns his head toward you, his thoughtful brown eyes connecting with yours. “I know you looked freaked the fuck out when he showed up for drinks and even more so when he said he was staying. And I’ve seen you tell off enough people to know that’s what was going on at the bar when you walked away from him last night,” he says, looking back toward the stage, gesturing with his hands, “Now we're here, with my future baby mama killing it on stage, and you’re sucking all the energy out of the room.”

The song ends with the crowd erupting in applause. “I love you!” Argyle shouts toward the stage with his hands cupped around his mouth as the bass starts back up with the opening of High Priestess. Santi looks up, throwing him a wink, her voice low and fast as the reverb vibrates under your feet. 

“Future baby mama?” You laugh.

“Yeah. Do you think you could use your press pass to get us backstage?”

“No. I don’t think you need to add to the population tonight.”

"See, you're no fun,” he complains, sticking out his lower lip, “So you really used to crush on that guy?

Chewing on your lip, you throw him a sideways glance.

“Yeah, you did. You crushed hard,” he laughs, “So, tell me, what happened?”

“I don’t like talking about it,” you say, scrubbing your face.

“Keeping everything all bottled up ain’t good for you, little mama,” he pokes your arm, letting you know he’s not going to drop this, “I’m your boy. If you can’t tell me, who can you tell?”

“Circle of trust,” he says, stirring the air between you with two fingers when you don’t respond. 

You lean against the rail, considering. “Alright, but this stays between us,” you threaten him with a pointed finger. His head nods as his fingers slide across his mouth like a zipper.

“There’s not much to tell,” you say, looking down at the sticky floor. “I had a crush, and he didn’t feel the same way.”

“I get it. The fury of a woman scorned. What did you do, go full bunny boiler?”

“No,” you chuckle, “Nothing like that. That part didn’t even really bother me. He was my best friend, my only friend for a long time. I thought there was something between us, that he cared about me. Maybe not the same way I cared about him, but you know, I thought we were close. I must have built it all up in my head because one day, he just takes off.” You swallow the sharp pain pressing into your chest, “He never even said goodbye.”

“Nooo,” Argyle’s eyes widen.

“It broke me,” you admit.

“Harsh,” he agrees, “And he never called you? Or gave you an explanation?”

“Not until yesterday.  He asked me to lunch. You know, he actually had the nerve to say that Steve has me on a tight leash.” 

“Typical.” He shakes his head, swallowing the last of his drink.

“What do you mean?” You ask, swirling the last of your ice into your watered-down drink. 

His face turns serious as he explains, “It’s like surfing. We all want that wave that’s just out of reach. Especially if someone else is riding it.” 

“How did you get so wise?” You ask. 

“I don’t know. Must be all the weed,” he says with a hand on your shoulder, turning you toward the bar. “Let’s go get another drink.”

“You never told Steve any of this?” He asks as you join the crowd of people that constitutes the line.

“No,” you sigh.

“No?” He repeats in surprise, “This is bad news, man. Why wouldn’t you tell him? What are you going to do, just going to keep it a secret forever?”

“I guess. It doesn’t really have anything to do with him.”

“This is going to get messy.” He shakes his head as you move up in line.

“Well, I’m not real happy with him either right now. He went behind my back to Hopper, deciding that I’m going to cover Eddie’s recording studio's opening. He completely humiliated me in front of my boss. I look totally unprofessional.”

“Well, that's not cool,” Argyle sympathizes as he takes the plastic cup from your hand and tosses it into a trashcan tucked beside the bar.

“No, it was very not cool,” you agree, crossing your arms over your chest. 

"Wait," he looks at you with sudden revelation, “Technically, isn't Steve your boss?"

“That’s not the point–”

“And isn’t your job to write about major happenings in the city, like when fancy L.A. sound guys open up studios?”

“You're not helping, Argyle.”

His hand lands on your head, offering a comforting pat like you're a child before the line begins moving again. "Cheer up, Bernstein," he quips with a grin, "I'll buy the next round."

Your anger hasn’t abated when you walk through the front door of the brownstone. Steve is already in bed, shirtless with the taupe velvet coverlet pulled up to his waist, glasses perched on his nose, not looking up from his laptop as you enter the room.

“Hey, Ace, how was your day? Did you write me–”

“Anything you want to tell me about, Steve?” You ask, your voice already coming out more heated than you intended.

He looks up at you, brows pulling together. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you say, dropping your bag onto the blue slipper chair in the corner of the room, “Maybe about how you went behind my back?”

"What?” He questions, slamming his laptop shut.

“The story, Steve,” you huff, leaving the room through your closet. You’ve just put your shoes away when he appears in the doorway, padding across the carpet in his bare feet, wearing just his boxers.

“Munson’s opening, that’s what you’re mad about?” He demands.

“You totally blindsided me,” you complain, pulling a hanger off the rod and hanging up your blazer with enough force to have the other clothes swinging. “Why didn’t you say anything this morning?”

“Because I hadn’t thought of it this morning.” His hands run through his hair, tugging in frustration.

“So what, it just came to you in a flash of brilliance?” Popping the button on your jeans, you tug them down your hips, kicking them into the corner instead of putting them in the basket.

“No, it didn’t, and I hate it when you’re sarcastic. Robin wanted to stop by and see his studio. We had lunch nearby,” he informs you, crossing his arms over his broad chest, the gold chain he wears glinting in the low light.

“So the two of you just decided what I was going to be writing? Maybe that’s something you should be discussing with me.” You lay a hand on your chest before pulling your shirt over your head and giving it the same treatment as your jeans. “You know, your fiancée, not some old buddy that sold you weed a few times back in Hawkins.” 

“The content Stax puts out is directly under my approval, just like Metro and the Newsdesk and every other division.” His voice, which has been steady and even until now, begins to rise, “I’m not going to call you and ask for permission every time I make a decision. Eddie and I have kept in touch. How do you think we landed that interview with Radiohead last year when they wouldn’t even sit down with Rolling Stone?”

“That’s another thing you kept from me. I had no idea Eddie was your best friend.” Your eyes narrow as your fingers yank at the delicate clasps of your jewelry and watch.

Steve's eyes roll in frustration as he shakes his head. "He's not my best friend. He’s a business contact. I know him through Robin. They were is band together, you know this."

"That feels like a lifetime ago, Steve," you remark, the clinking of your jewelry against the marble island adding a discordant scrape.

"Well, some people aren't embarrassed about where they came from," he accuses.

"I'm not embarrassed," you scoff and begin to pace as if you can outrun his words.

"Oh, please," he says, taking a seat on the bench, his knuckles turning white as he grips the edge, his gaze tracking your restless movements. "You cut off anybody we still know living there. You won't even go to visit your parents. They always come here."

“You never listen to what I’m saying. This has nothing to do with Hawkins or my parents.” You halt your steps, your hand slices through the air, punctuating your statements. “It's about you making me look like a fool in front of Hopper. Like I’m trying to go around him to corporate to get assigned the big stories. Like I’m sleeping with the boss. I’m not ruining my reputation so you can give free advertising to your friends.”

“You're being crazy right now,” he yells, wincing with regret as soon as the words leave his mouth. He stands, moving closer, making an effort to control the tone of his voice, “I gave you this assignment because you know Eddie, and it will make for a better story, not because I’m fucking you. We’ve been together since the day you started at Stax. We’ve been engaged for two years. If anyone was going to think that, they already would’ve.”

Your head shakes, rejecting his rationale. He throws up his hands in frustration. “I can't have a conversation with you when you’re like this.” He starts to walk back toward the bedroom but stops abruptly, spinning on his heel and pointing his finger in your direction. “But I'll tell you one more thing—you are going to write this story.” He waves a hand toward the bathroom. “Now, go wash your face.”

Your teeth cut into your bottom lip as you walk into the bathroom, slamming the door behind you.

A sliver of gold from the streetlights outside pierces the tiny gap in the curtains. You’ve been lying on your side staring so long that you can see its warm hue behind closed lids whenever you start to drift. You burrow your arm deeper beneath your pillows while your feet shuffle, searching for a cool spot on the sheets. Steve’s breathing hasn’t changed behind you. He’s having the same trouble falling asleep. He turns over, his weight rocking the mattress. He’s much closer now. You can feel the comforting warmth from his chest, filling the space between him and your back. 

“Baby.” His breath caresses the spot just behind your ear before the wet press of his lips traces a path along your neck, latching on to the apex when it meets your shoulder. A gentle bite follows the swirl of his tongue as he moves even closer. The rough pads of his fingers glide over your shoulder and down your arm, coaxing the thin strap of your tank with them.

“Please,” he whispers between kisses, his fingers finding their way under the bottom edge of your tank top, the light scrape of his blunt nails against your ribs sending shivers across your skin. Your breathing is picking up, the fire from your argument morphing into a new kind of heat. His hips flex against your ass, his cock hard and ready. When you turn your head, his lips are there, a wet slide over your mouth until they pull back, floating just above you, lingering with a question. And when his hand cups your shoulder, urging your body to turn towards him-–you answer. 

The sultry feminine voice drifts from the speakers in your bedroom, her smoky timber weaving through the air like dark tendrils intertwining with the high piano notes. Your hips rise with the flow, a slow, unchanging cadence, the stretch of his cock creating delicious friction against your velvet walls. You move higher until he almost leaves you before you start your descent, the angle finding all the hidden places that light you up beneath your skin. 

"M' sorry," he murmurs.

Your eyes flutter open at his words as they carry you away from the depths. 

"Hate telling you no." He gazes up at you with heavy-lidded eyes, his hair pushed back from his face, and a flush across his skin.

"I don't wanna talk about it." Your hands cover the ones wrapped around your thighs, guiding them up your body. His warm, rough fingers are eager to map out every contour. Your head falls back when they find their destination, cupping your breasts with a possessive grip.

The song shifts, the new baseline a drawn-out pulse lining up with your movements. The lyrics are raw and a little filthy, fueling the urgency of your rolling hips, your clit grazing the short hairs at his base.

"Don't like telling you what to do," he mumbles even as his hands drop to your hips, attempting to hold you still as he bucks up from underneath. "Just wanna take care of you."

"Steve," his name passes your lips in a low moan as you lean forward, taking his hand from your hips and pressing them into the pillow, "Stop talking."

Sitting up, you shift your position, leaning back, bracing your hands behind yourself on his hairy thighs. You set a new pace, bouncing harder, driving him deeper, taking what you want. 

“Jesus, fuck, baby,” he groans, eyes hitting the back of his head while his hands slide across the sheets seeking any purchase as you ride him. The music surges, its tempo rising in perfect sync with the wet intimate sounds of your bodies coming together, the rhythm repeating over and over.

"So close…please," his fingers slip between you, adding pressure to the sensitive bundle of nerves that he finds there, "Need you to cum."

"No," you rasp out breathless, pushing his hand aside, your eyes locked on his as you bring your own fingers to your mouth. With a swirl of your tongue, you coat them with wetness before sliding them down to touch yourself, controlling your own pleasure. 

The muscles in his neck strain with effort, his gaze darkening, fixated on you. “Goddam, so sexy like this,” he murmurs.

Your body tightens, taut like a bow-string, the tension building until the crescendo crashes over you. The music washes over your senses as you reach your peak, your legs trembling with the intensity. You push your body further over the edge, succumbing to the euphoria lost in the wave of sensations.

Floating back down, your eyes open to the sight of your ceiling, your body still arched, catching your breath. His fingers tighten on your ribs, reminding you he's there. Sticky wetness dripping between you is evidence that he reached his own climax. His hands gently urge your forward to collapse into his chest. 

"Wow, that was…" He strokes the sweat-slicked skin of your back. "I’ve never seen you like that before. What got into you?"

"I think you did," you say, placing a kiss over his heart as your fingers smooth through the hair covering his chest. He chuckles, holding you closer. 

The gentle croon of the music fills the quiet space between you as you lie entwined, drawing closer to sleep's embrace. With a fumbling hand, Steve reaches for the remote on his nightstand, silencing the stereo, returning the room to a restful hush. He places a final tender kiss on your temple, his eyes closing as his features turn peaceful. But for you, even in this stillness, another song lingers in your mind, its lyrics echoing like a secret.

For updates follow @tornupdates & turn on the notifications

AN: Thank you for reading and rebloging. Your comments are what keep me at my keyboard plugging away at this story. Please keep sending me your songs and asks! They have inspired so much of what's to come. xoxo- Jelly

[nataliawrites]

TikTok on the Clock // Daniel Ricciardo

One of the best things to come out of the pandemic lockdown was finally giving in to the urge to download TikTok. You had quickly grown addicted to scrolling through the mix of eclectic videos that popped up on your “for you page” and soon enough decided to start posting some yourself.

It did not take long for Formula 1 fans to make the connection between your account and who your boyfriend is — Daniel Ricciardo was many things but subtle was not one of them and he had a tendency to “accidentally” interrupt you while you filmed.

You kept the account going long after restrictions eased and hopped on many of the trends that made their rounds on the app. This year, you were feeling slightly evil. You have been putting together a compilation of hilarious (if you did say so yourself) pranks that you pulled on your boyfriend since the season began and were just about to hit upload as the countdown began.

You put down your phone and turn to give Daniel your full attention.

Ten

Nine

Eight

Seven

Six

Five

Four

Three

Two

One

His lips taste like champagne.

Happy New Year!

“Hey Dan?”

“Mmh.”

“Maybe stay off TikTok for a bit.”

“What did you do?”

One

You loved the Australian Grand Prix. Your boyfriend’s home race was a spectacle on the track and a great opportunity to spend time with his family off the track.

As usual, you flew out to Perth a bit early before switching coasts for the race. You were busy in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner as you prepared to host everyone that evening. When everything was mostly done, you started recording on your phone and leaned it against the wall inconspicuously before calling for your boyfriend.

“Hey, babe?” You pour a heaping pile of salt on a spoon.

“Yeah?” You can hear Daniel from across the house.

“Can you come taste my sauce?” You dunk the spoon in a pot of your tomato sauce and pick up just enough to hide the salt.

He basically runs to the kitchen, “test taster reporting for duty.”

You bring the spoon to his mouth, “I used your nonna’s recipe.”

His eyes screw shut and his mouth puckers, “my-my nonna’s recipe?”

“Your mom shared it with me. Isn’t it delicious?”

“Yeah,” his voice cracks. “Delicious.”

You look at his face again and fight a losing battle not to laugh as he desperately tries not to offend you and his grandma.

You reach towards your phone as giggles escape you.

Daniel finally realizes he’s been tricked, “are you serious?”

You point the camera towards your boyfriend, “you should’ve seen your face.”

“You’re so mean to me,” he pouts.

Two

“Babe?” You questioned coming through the front door. You had spent the day loading up on groceries and stopping by a few boutiques that caught your eye. This was the perfect opportunity to finally pull one over on your boyfriend.

“I’m in here,” you drop your bags in the foyer and follow Daniel’s voice to where he’s lying on the living room sectional.

Your phone is stuck in your bra, the camera just peaking over your shirt. “My car told me I needed windshield wiper fluid while I was out.”

He lowers his phone but keeps his focus on it.

“So I pulled into a gas station and the guy working there gave me a really good deal. He told me I got it for 50 percent off and it was only $150 for me because of how sweet I was.”

Daniel’s head snaps up as he drops his phone.

“$150?”

“Yeah.”

“You paid $150?”

“Yeah …”

“For windshield wiper fluid?”

“Yeah? He told me it was a good deal!”

“Love,” you can’t tell if he wants to laugh or cry, “I could’ve done that for free. He ripped you off.”

“But it was 50 percent off?”

“It costs less than $5 to buy and then you just pour it in!” He gestures wildly, “this is my fault. How do I race for a living and literally collect cars without teaching my girlfriend how to change her own windshield wiper fluid?”

By this point you’re silently laughing which Daniel finally notices.

“Really? Really?” He turns around to face the back of the couch, “don’t talk to me.”

“Awww, baby. Don’t be mad at me,” you coo. “I think it’s cute how protective you got.”

“Still mad at you.” It’s hard to take him seriously with his face shoved into the leather couch, muffling his voice.

Three

You walk into the gym, your phone hidden in the pocket of your leggings, and take in the view of you shirtless boyfriend.

The fans will appreciate this one.

“Dan?”

He pauses his juggling on the stationary bike.

“My back’s really been bothering since I came back from my run. Do you think you can help me stretch it or something?”

He gets off the bike and walks toward you, “do you want me to call Michael? He won’t mind coming over to help with your back.”

“Don’t bother him. It’s nothing major,” you turn away from your boyfriend and quickly stick two pieces of pasta between your molars while he can’t see, “just need to loosen it up a bit.”

“Okay …” he spreads his palms across your back and applies some careful pressure. You bite down on the pasta, timing the crack with his movements.

“Oh my god.” You let your body go limp.

“Love? Are you okay?” He tries to hold you up but you collapse on the padded floor of the gym.

“Is it your back? What did I do? I knew we should’ve just called Michael. Oh my god.”

You take pity on your boyfriend, not wanting him to think that he actually broke your back for longer than a few seconds, “it was just pasta.”

“What?”

“The sound. It was just me biting pasta. It’s a prank trend.”

He lets go of your body and you fully drop to the floor.

“Are.” He pelts you with one of the balls he was juggling.

“You.” And another.

“Kidding.” And another.

“Me?” And another.

You run out of the gym laughing as he continues to chase you through the house, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“I thought I broke your back!”

[callmearcturus]

the best handheld gaming options today

ohyesididnotjustdothat: Idk if u were serious or if this is even a good time, but that rec list for handhelds sounds like it'd be baller ngl

yeah sure, i like to do the research so others don't have to. it's turning into my gimmick

Let's do this by

Best Starter Device

Best Midtier Device

"But What About Sony" Device

Best Thing If You Don't Want To Invest In A Steam Deck

Best Starter Device/Low Budget: Miyoo Mini

as soon as this fucking thing came out, everyone was talking about it and I can see why. This thing is adorable, it's sturdy, it is the most pocketable device in the space, and it reliably plays anything up to the PSX generation. It has shoulder buttons on the back, comes with a very decent user interface out of the box, and that screen is both gorgeous and it has extra lamination so it's well protected.

And it sells for less than 70$. There's a very loving fanbase around the Miyoo Mini with people pushing the hardware to its limits and supporting it, so it's a good pick.

Best Midtier Device: Retroid Pocket 2+

the + is important, this is a refresh and update to the original RP2 with a lot of improvements.

Full disclosure, I wanted to get myself a Powkiddy RGB10 Max 2 (a mouthful) because it has super good ergonomics and a huge screen. But its not about the screen, it's what you do with it, and RP2+ is just head and shoulders above the competition and tends to be priced at 99$, which is cheaper than the competition as well. That this thing exists while the Ambernick RG552 has the audacity to ask for 225$ is staggering.

This fucking thing will play SNES, GBA, PSX, sure. But thanks to its chipset, it'll also play N64, Nintendo DS, Dreamcast. There is a community-maintained GDoc with testing of the device with advice on how to wring the best results out of the RP2+. Also its one of the only devices where the manufacturer lets you buy spare parts if something breaks, which is something more folks should do. Also this thing is getting active updates both officially and from the community. Like.... it's a good fucking purchase.

This is what I'm getting and I'm planning to explore the NDS and Dreamcast libraries for the first time.

"But I want to play PSP as well as older generations!": CFW PS Vita

This was my first foray into the space and I fucking love it. The amount of shit you can do with a custom firmware (CFW) Vita is mind boggling. I just downloaded a free port of Fallout 2 from the Homebrew Browser that's runs on the Vita itself. Last night, I opened Adrenaline, which is Sony's own PSP emulation software and booted up Chrono Cross. There is a very sneaky little app I won't name that literally just lets you directly, cleanly download any PS Vita game onto the device.

The screen is fucking beautiful, the device feels luxury, it's got bluetooth, it can run older libraries all the way up to N64 (though it chugs on some GBA games for some reason).

And while a lot of other custom handhelds are trying to get PSP games to run, this is the device that was BUILT to run them, and it cannot be beat. No fucking with settings, no swapping cores in hopes another will run better. It just works for that amazing fucking library. And setting up the CFW is very fun and has a great step by step guide online.

Honorable Mention: CFW 3DS/3DS XL

One of the things these handhelds struggle with is emulation of the dual screen Nintendo devices. It's super easy to emulate the top screen, and for many games the bottom screen isn't actually necessary to play. But for the ones where it is, there are few viable handhelds you can really use.

But much like the Vita, the 3DS has a vibrant and thriving mod community. Once you have it set up, it's the most reliable avenue for the Nintendo catalog, and with Nintendo shutting down support for it, that's two generations of extremely large catalogs at risk of disappearing.

Also, once you've got it set up, you can go to hshop, pick the game you want to play, scan a QR code with your 3DS, and just install it. The pirate game is so fucking advanced. The only reason I don't play mine more is the battery life bugs me. If I put my vita to sleep, in a month it'll still have power. If I put my 3DS to sleep, it's dead in 2 days.

The "I Don't Mind Spending For the Best Option That Is Fully Futureproofed" Option: The AYN Odin

Starting price 230$ before shipping and you'll be waiting at minimum 3 months for it to arrive.

This will play everything. This is right now the only device to reliably run the PS2/PSP generation. It will also flawlessly stream Game Pass, PS Now (or whatever they're calling it these days), Stadia, Moonlight, Parsec, and Nvidia's service I forget the name of. If you're daring, you can sideload windows and play a respectable amount of full PC games. It has very good controls, super nice shoulder buttons, a turbo mode with a cooling fan, and that enormous fucking screen.

This is the device every motherfucker wants but you will be paying and you will be waiting to get your hands on it. It's the best device you can get without investing in a Steam Deck. (Also you can very easily get away with the Odin Lite over the Odin Base or Pro unless you are planning to sideload Windows, just FYI.)

Final Thoughts: There's a lot of good options out there and a lot of people covering them, but I personally like Retro Game Corps the most. He has in depth reviews of goddamn everything as well as video guides to setting up specific devices, learning Retroarch, exploring firmware options as they release, and WRITTEN GUIDES to everything on his site. Dude is a marvel. I would watch his stuff to see what sounds good, then watch other reviews for the same device. (This is what talked me out of the Powkiddy and into the RP2+.)