#i am posting this and if i get any other bullshit trying to argue with me in my box it will be deleted

[leilanihours]

# SHE WAS CRYIN' ON MY SHOULDER, ALL I COULD DO WAS HOLD HER

pairing: paige bueckers x ex-gf!reader

word count: 851

warnings: arguing, crying, mentions of abandonment/past relationship

summary: you and paige both have things you need to get off your chests one year after you break up.

⭑ from lani: to that anon i told my next fic would be for kate im so sorry 😭 i was crying to this song earlier and i just needed to write paige to it - so heres my first ever angst fic i hope its not horrible 😛

masterlist !

"Y/N, YOU LEFT me, remember? you left!"

"you didn't even bother to stop me, to fight for me- for us!"

neither of you knew how this escalated so quickly. how a friendly reunion turned into a screaming match.

"it's not my job to pick up the pieces of the shit you broke! so i'm sorry if i didn't feel like working myself over for someone who had no issue leaving."

you know her apology is insincere, sarcastic. but for a split second when you hear her say "i'm sorry," your heart aches for the words you've spent the past year mourning.

"paige," you sigh, trying to calm down before you say something you don't mean, "i know it seems like it, but i did not want to leave the way i did. i didn't have a choice."

"bullshit-"

"can you just be quiet and let me talk?" you snap, immediately shutting her up, "last summer when i disappeared, it was because of my parents. they forced me to come home to them even after i told them i wanted to stay here in connecticut. i swear to you, paige, i fought for us. you didn't see it but i went through hell fighting. and i'm sorry for ending it the way i did but, paige...we were bound to end it at some point. we both knew that. i had to go home eventually."

you both had tears streaming down your faces at this point, chests heaving from not being able to breathe properly.

you stood in front of paige, slowly pacing back and forth as she sat with her arms crossed on the cold park bench absorbing your words.

the darkness of the night engulfed the atmosphere, contributing to the inevitable breaking of your once-intertwined hearts. the only light was dim from the far away lamp post, rusting away from its former beauty - similarly to how you and paige used to be a work of art together, but were now nothing more than a mess of spilled emotions and pent-up grudges.

"and i understand that, y/n, but i deserved an explanation- a goodbye, at the very least. or at least i thought i deserved that."

"don't do that," you challenge, referring to the way she degraded herself in front of you, "is that why you didn't try? to save us?"

"why else wouldn't i? i thought you hated me, i thought-" she pauses to catch her breath and wipe some of the tears that had fallen on her pink lips, "i thought you didn't care about us. as if that summer didn't mean shit to you."

"paige i-"

"no, now it's your turn to listen," she demands, pulling you to sit next to her on the bench, both of her cold hands holding yours, "i never felt so strongly about someone the way i felt about you. i couldn't imagine spending my time away from you, i mean, it literally hurt. so i took advantage of that summer, i took advantage of the little time we had together. and then when i found out you left without a word to me, it broke me. and i know you didn't see it but ask literally any of my friends. i didn't get out of bed for days in a row. i didn't eat, i didn't practice, nothing. it was like you stole the good parts of me, took it, and ran. i needed you, y/n, but you were on the other side of the country. what am i supposed to do with that?"

she's full on sobbing now, shoulders shaking as she doesn't even try to hold in her tears now. you swear you can hear cracks in your own heart and bones forming as she confesses what she went through.

you can't bear watching her suffer anymore, tightly wrapping your arms around her shaking frame. hugs like these were second nature, but this time was different. there was more meaning behind it.

your embrace acted as a shield against any future problems that were to be thrown onto your paths. your embrace acted as a glue repairing the broken pieces of your relationship that laid destroyed for the past how many days. your embrace acted as a genuine embrace.

"paige, i'm so sorry. i'm so sorry, baby, i never wanted to leave you, you have to know that. i'm so sorry," you whisper into her hair.

one of your hands stroke her head buried in your neck. you feel her tears drip onto your thin jacket, soaking you with guilt as it hits you how desperate you were to spend the rest of your life making it up to this girl.

it was clear to you that she actually did care, unlike how you thought last summer. and because of how she was crying on your shoulder, you needed to forget about that version of her you spent so long hating - the version that constantly haunted the back of your mind.

you needed to hold her. and hold her. and hold her. and never let go.

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[leclsrc]

wait and see ✴︎ cl16

genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, angst barely, other drivers appear

word count: 2.5k

The grid recounts the evolution, nature, and many ups and downs of your and Charles' vague relationship.

auds here... req'd, this was p fun to write i hope u guys like it! :) short bec if it was any longer it wouldnt have been as nice to read i think? anyway... i love u guys. title from this.

Lando takes a seat. “Is this the thingy for…? Yeah? Okay. What am I supposed to do again?”

“Just describe the two of them.”

“Easy. She was always pissing him off.” He rubs his chin, lost in thought. “But… in a good way?”

—

“I told you a hundred times I didn’t want this to be the soundbite you published.” Charles chases after you, his footsteps quickening like a lost puppy as you wrestle your way into the media pen. “A hundred times, and you said okay, and you still published it. Che succede?”

You turn, crossing your arms over your torso. “Look. I said yes, but when I looked it over, nothing else you said was really worth it. It was all just repetitions of the same PR bullshit that makes you look good on camera.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, exhaling with frustration, watching his biting comment on Iñaki rack up hundreds of thousands of views. “This was not a good idea!” He repeats, the same sentiment he’s been telling you in the half-hour he’s known of this video’s publicity.

“But it happened.” You adjust your mic and gesture to Lando, who’s awkwardly waiting for the cameras to roll so you can start the post-FP2 interview and he can talk about his shit car. “I’m busy, so deal with it. Your fans will appreciate you not riding Ferrari’s dick all the time.”

Charles opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it, shoving his way back outside and into the motorhome so he can cooperate in damage control. He doesn’t admit it—to you, to Carlos, to anyone—but the PR that comes of it is more good than it is bad in the end. He doesn’t admit it because it means admitting you’re right, and God if that’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

—

“They were always butting heads,” George says, laughing as he soaks in the memories of it. “Always fighting over something. Anything. Whatever there was that could be disagreed on—they’d be disagreeing.”

—

It started harmlessly enough. Seb walked in with two swatches of color—a blue and a purple—and addressed the room with a light tone, asking what color would best suit the tablecloths at his wedding. And then, as it always did with you and Charles, chaos ensued.

“Blue suits green better.” You wave the blue in his face. “You’re busy thinking of red all the time so you don’t understand color theory.”

“It’s not about coordination! It’s about creating a highlight!” He gestures with his hands, aggressively gesticulating to try and get his point across. “Highlight!”

“Oh, bullshit! Blue!”

“Purple!”

“Are you crazy?!”

Across the room, Seb and George watch in mild horror at the two figures caught in a needlessly intense argument over colors at a wedding that isn’t even theirs.

An AlphaTauri engineer comes in to refill his coffee for the third time, finds the two of you still fighting and is genuinely stupefied. He turns to the two onlookers, asks, “Bridezilla, huh? Happened to me once, too. I swear the grooms always try to weasel their way in to seem more involved but their choices never make sense.”

“Oh, no. They, uh, they’re not together.” George clarifies quickly.

“They’re not?!” The engineer and Seb ask at the same time.

They all watch the argument, bemused, but secretly they all wonder just how correct George is.

—

“We have a saying in Spanish. Del amor al odio hay un paso. Neither of them will understand it—it’s in Spanish, obviously—but I think that applies to them. One minute you think they hate each other, and the next…” Carlos lets himself taper into silence, smiling softly.

—

Being around Charles feels like karmic retribution, a constant eternal push and pull. But it makes the both of you better, even if neither of you admit it in the end. You can’t really grasp why, or how it started—it might take ages if you do so much as try—but you’re content with letting things happen the way they do.

Or maybe you’re not. “You ruined my fucking broadcast, dickhead!”

You toss your earpiece at his chest, body welling up with annoyance. Your segment was being casted live until Charles insisted he take up your airtime to do whatever-the-fuck, you honestly don’t care. And yeah, sure, he’s way more relevant, but the less airtime you get, the less easily you get the exposure you need.

“It happened one time.” He sounds amused, and it patronizes you, sets you on fire. He clutches your earpiece to his chest and hands it back to you.

“Fuck you.” You tug it toward yourself, and suddenly you’re closer, noses almost touching. You step back, but it’s not enough. “You have no idea how much that mattered to me.”

His eyes flit toward your lips, your bodies melting together. “If it really did…” he says, inhaling, “you would’ve just ignored me.” And damn, he’s right.

Charles does not like you. He just knows you well. But then one might argue—isn’t that the same thing?

—

“They have trouble not calling the shots, is the thing,” Lewis offers. “So put them in a team, in a room together, and boom.”

—

“…We didn’t agree on this script.” You underline the problematic lines and toss it onto Charles’ lap from where you stand in front of the sofa. “You want your fans to hate you?”

“The questions were clumsy. I asked you to reword them, but you didn’t.”

“You didn’t ask, to be clear. You demanded.” You click your tongue.

Lewis is in the middle of posting on Roscoe’s Instagram account and manually making typos, but he looks up, interest piqued by the increasingly heated conversation.

“I asked,” Charles insists stubbornly. “Plus, this is a Ferrari segment. You get hired to write on Ferrari, you follow Ferrari.” He points to the yellow logo on his shirt. Ferrari, he mouths. Lewis stifles a chuckle at the sarcastic exchange.

“Jesus.” You reread the script. “Fine. I’ll reword this and this.”

“And that.” He points, tapping the paper.

“Only if you edit this and this. Oh, God, and this.”

“Fine. Wait, that?”

“Are you serious? It’s the corniest statement ever. Edit that or I edit nothing.”

“Okay, bossy.”

Lewis exits Instagram in favor of texting Seb to ask if you two are dating. The response he receives is equally unhelpful: Nobody knows mate.

—

“You know, for all the disagreeing they did, they actually agreed on so much of the same stuff. If they stopped fighting for two seconds they would agree on most things.” Alex muses. “But they never did, so. Or maybe a few times.”

—

Media is a tricky thing. It’s either on your side, or it isn’t.

And this weekend, Charles has drawn the short straw, subjected to bouts of backhanded journalists and tweets for his strategy during quali. You know this especially well—you’re media, for Christ’s sake—and you’ve seen your colleagues hound Charles for how he chose to tackle the session.

Alex is in the middle of a FaceTime call with Lily when he hears it. “Wait—I think they’re talking,” he says to his girlfriend when he hears you approach him, carefully maneuvering himself into optimal eavesdropping position.

“Is this the right thing to do?” Lily’s voice comes through like static.

“I know it’s wrong,” Alex confesses. “But—”

“No, I meant I can’t hear properly. Move the phone closer, you dick.”

So he does, and the two of them listen intently to your talk. You go first, a few shuffling footsteps and an adjustment of your media pass, then. “Will’s been all over you today.”

“Yeah,” comes Charles’ voice, tired if anything. “I, uh… I just hope I can understand where I went wrong and, uh. Well, uh.”

“No, I…” There’s heavy silence. “I think you did the right thing. You didn’t get pole, but it was a good strategy. Better than what was being proposed, anyway. I think that would’ve landed you at the back of the grid, to be honest.”

You both laugh. “Thanks,” he croaks.

“You did great. Don’t, um… don’t let them tell you otherwise. I’m proud of you.”

Alex never tells anybody what he heard. But it inspires many long-winded conversations with Lily about the nature of your relationship. Each time, though, they never arrive to a solid answer.

—

“Hey, listen. I always knew something was there with those two. They had the kind of dynamic you only find once in, like, a million instances.” Daniel says firmly. “But I also kept thinking… poor Charlotte.”

—

You’re half-sure Pierre was the one who bought you all shots. Or a quarter-sure. Okay, you’re not sure at all. Your mind’s cloudy, your inhibitions lowered, tongue loose and laugh contagious. Around the table everyone is laughing, some others have gotten up to dance, but you, Daniel, Lewis, and Charles are all conversing about work, albeit while drunk.

“Is… tequila… plant-based?” Lewis grimaces as he throws another shot back and you all laugh mindlessly.

“Danny,” you say, tapping his shoulder. “Any plans once you’re out of the paddock next season?”

“Ah,” he hums. “Self-discovery and a shit ton of shrooms.”

You all cheers to the epiphany, shots once again entering your system. “And a party again tomorrow!” Daniel adds half-jokingly, much to your delight. Charles, right beside you, throws an arm over your shoulder as he laughs. You’re unfazed.

Daniel’s gaze lingers on his arm a little too long, especially because your own hand reaches upward to wrap around his wrist, to make sure he doesn’t pull away. But you’re both drunk, he reasons. And plus, you can’t usually stand each other’s guts.

“I’ll pass, mate, if it happens,” Charles says, his tone clearly inebriated.

“You’re no fun,” you say lightly, laughing and turning to him. Your eyes are on the other’s, dark, lips almost touching as if you’ve forgotten Daniel and Lewis are even around (though the latter is as good as dead, honestly.)

“Invite Charlotte instead,” Daniel says with a smile, to try and test your reactions. “How long, now? Three months?”

You clear your throat, looking away with a faux smile.

“Oh. We’re not doing so well, to be honest.” Charles smiles, tight-lipped. He hopes Daniel doesn’t ask why. He can’t think of a lie quickly enough to cover how Charlotte told him I love you, Charles, but this is over. I hope you end up with her someday.

—

Seb takes some time to think about it. “Those two always fought. Everyone said that, didn’t they? All the time, disagreeing.” He hums. “I could tell very early, though, that they were also the only two who could truly understand the other. Figuratively, obviously—but as a result, also literally.”

“Elaborate?”

“When you understand someone that well, inside and out, you end up understanding everything they say.” Seb smiles. “That was them, I think.”

—

“It’s impossible to transcribe your interviews,” Will says to Charles. It’s that hour on the paddock where everyone’s waiting for the pre-race bustle to start, so small talk is what’s keeping them busy.

You’re reviewing a few clips from practice on your phone and Seb is chipping into the conversation, which has moved from Mick’s future to F1 into Sky Sports into this.

“What do you mean?” Charles asks.

“You’re always sliding in and out of your three languages!” The Englishman laughs. “I have to consult a native speaker of both Italian and French each time. And you’re always going I, I, I, or we, we, we… but hey, the fans dig it, innit?”

“I think I sound perfectly understandable.” Charles smiles. You’re still busy, unfocused on the conversation at present.

“Like, okay. Look at this.” Will retrieves his phone, opens his voice memos app, and plays one of the audio recordings there. It’s a scratchy one of Charles describing his quali session, and sure enough, even if he’s speaking straight English, the adrenaline and exhaustion have him sounding totally indecipherable.

We—we had gasjdhfhs and I, I, I… I think we need to rejshdhs and thijsjsh about the hsfhdh, yeah? And, and, uh, we ajhshajs. And

Will closes it. “Sebastian, can you tell me that said?”

He shrugs, amused. “Sorry, Charles. I genuinely can’t.”

“See?!” Will makes a voila motion. “Nobody understands this.”

“He said we had good traction and I think we need to recalibrate and think about the boxing strategy, yeah? And we need that mindset.” You’re still going over your phone, busy and not 100% invested. “You two just aren’t listening.”

Charles doesn’t take his eyes off you, or the smile off his face, the whole hour.

—

Pierre comes last, clearing his throat. He’s ready. He knows exactly what to say, so he says it. “Those two are fucking soulmates.”

—

It’s three-thirty when somebody knocks on your hotel room.

But your body still feels like it’s five in the evening, your brain’s stuck at two in the afternoon, and your sleep schedule thinks it’s nine in the morning, so you’re not asleep but instead rewriting notes from the weekend prior.

You’re horribly disoriented when you grab your pepper spray and unlatch the door, and even more disoriented when you see Charles on the other side of it.

“Am I crazy?” He asks, breathless, like he’s been waiting for you all his life. Maybe he has.

“You’re at my hotel room at three a.m., so… a bit.” You rub sleepiness and jetlag out of your eyes. “Charles, what’s going on?”

“I love you.” There it is. “It sounds so stupid. But I love you. And it’s almost—I can’t bear it. I woke up this morning? You, on my mind. Lights go off after a race? You. I go to sleep? You. It’s always you. And I know, I know it’s—I know, with Charlotte, and—but it’s true. I, I, I—I think about you every minute. And usually this happens accidentally. Nous sommes tous des idiots quand il s’agit d’amour... moi y compris.

“But this was… I knew I was falling in love and I let it happen. And so I thought, why keep waiting? Why let it drag on and on and fight over and over when I can just come and tell you how much I—and maybe, hopefully, see if you feel the same?”

He pants, tired from his clearly rambled and unplanned confession.

“I love you, too,” you say, struck. Oh God.

“Can I kiss you, then?”

“It’s may,” you breathe. “May I kiss you.”

“You may,” he whispers.

“Right now?”

“Anytime.”

“So now.”

“It’s now or next Tuesday,” he jokes.

“Now is… the best. Now would do.”

“Now would do.” So you cross the threshold and let him scoop you into his arms so he can well and truly kiss you.

—

“Is that all?” The interviewer asks Pierre. “Just… those words? We need a bit more for the article on this event.”

“Oh, yeah.” He gets up, straightens his tie. “Don’t worry. You’ll hear the rest during my best man speech.”

Del amor al odio hay un paso – From love to hate, there is one step.

Nous sommes tous des idiots quand il s'agit d'amour... moi y compris – We are all fools in love... me included.

[thatfrenchacademic]

OK so about this "34, unmarried and childless" article about Taylor Swift. Let me tell you about Scam Academia.

TL;DR: some mediocre dude had a half baked opinio nabout Taylor Swift that everyone hated, but like Mother Nature I let nothing go to waste.

Here is the take you have not heard yet, about this opinion: this guy is actually a good case study on how to develop your academic literacy, aka how to recognize a true academic from a scammer who presents themselves as an academic, but is just a crook. In a world of pseudoscience and pretend experts that have enough resources to organize their flat earth conference, let me walk you through the world of Scam Academic, where for a few thousand dollars, you too can claim to be a researcher with a doctorate! Follow me down a rabbit hole that I hate with my whole heart!

Preamble: I have zero skin in the TS game. I don't get the hype, the lore, the obsession with those 2000s bracelet or dissecting every single line or every single song.

But then. Some guy had to write an op-ed stating Taylor Swift was not a good role model for girls ("in the US and beyond"), and it is a terrible take on so many level, but here is the thing. Whiny conservative think-pieces about highly successful women who should get back to the kitchen and think of the children are nothing new. But this one is different.

This one is fucking terribly written. It's just an abysmally written blog post. Genuinely one of the worst thing I have ever read, and I read hundreds of undergrad essays every year for a living. It contradicts its own arguments in every paragraph. It over-explains concepts like it's a high school essay and he's trying to meet the word count. It says "this is a valid question worth asking" but does not actually explain why it is worth asking. It is so, so, so bad.

Conservative writers are usually more the "high brow, drowning you in grandstanding" kind of writers. They are, usually, good technical writers - it's the one thing that helps make their talking point sound legit and palatable. So an abysmally bad conservative writer? Ok, I am intrigued.

The author is one John Mac Ghlionn. I look up the guy on Google and...

Oh.

Oh no, John.

Spewing conservative bullshit at women AND a researcher? You're in my turf now, John. You could have continued to cover UFC Pillow Fight Championships, or alien technology and other riveting subjects, but you had try to connect two brain cells to argue a thing, and slap "researcher" on top of it. Now I'm offended, as a researcher.

1. I am sorry, researcher WHERE?

Ok so if one is a "researcher", it means one conduct "research". and contrary to what backyard conspiracy theorists think, "researcher" is an actual job. It is an actual professional occupation. You get an actual contract, and you are paid actual money. By an actual employer: public (University), private (Think tank, private company), or a mix of both (at Unviersity, but on a privately funded project, for example).

So where does our John Mc Ghlionn work?

Well. Nowhere, as far as I can tell.

John does not list any affiliation. Usually, when they write, academics will state their exact position (Researcher, Doctoral Researcher, Associate Professor, Chief Engineer, Head of Department, Research Director...) and where they work. For example:

That's what it is supposed to look like.

But John? Nope, no affiliation anywhere, on anything he ever published. That's a pretty massive read flag. Research takes ressources: at the very least, time and access to database and documentation, even in social sciences in humanities. You may not need a lab, but you sure as hell need money and full access to JStore at least.

So I thought he was just one of these "I google therefore I research" kind of dude. But then, out of nowhere:

I am sorry. He has a WHAT.

2. I am sorry, a Doctorate from WHERE?

So. One thing to claim to be a researcher when you are just a professional yapper. Another to claim a DIPLOMA.

And not any diploma. A doctorate.

Let's pause. "Doctorate" is actually a really broad umbrella term of all doctoral-level degrees. The most famous (and most prestigious, for better and worse) is the PhD, but a PhD is technically just one of many Research Doctorate of, theoretically, the same level (cue this helpful reddit post). A second category of doctorates are the Applied Doctorates, and while there is Discourse on where they sit vis-a-vis PhD, the easiest is to consider that they are not research-oriented. They are hands-on, practice-oriented degrees. For example: you can practice medicine with an MD. You don't need a PhD. You can still call yourself a doctor, though.

Alright, so which of these does our friend Johnnie has? Or is currently enrolled in? And in which University?

You will notice that John does not go by "John Mac Ghlionn PhD" or even "Dr John Mac Ghlionn", when you just KNOW he is the sort of person that would but that shit everywhere. And no shade here, because I, for one, do put that shit everywhere. Maybe he is just currently enrolled in a program and has not graduated. Fair.

Since John does not list affiliation, I had to switch from academic to internet sleuth, and dig out this article:

But we learn that in 2021, John was a "PhD Scholar" in "Parkmore Institute". "PhD Scholar" is not a title I am sued to, but it's also not raising any red flag: ongoing PhD researchers can be "PhD students", "PhD fellows", "PhD researchers"... It varies from country to country and from institution to institution, so why not "PhD Scholar".

Let's check out the Parkmore Institute.

Ok, they are not a traditional university, but they appear to be more of a postgraduate institution: offering only higher level degrees, not undergrad courses. Once again, not necessarily a red flag. They are usually very heavily research focused, and embrace the "research" side of academia more than the "teaching" side. In Germany, the Max Planck Institutes are research-only institutions who deliver PhDs. They conduct cutting edge research, in part because their researchers rarely have to spend time teaching.

But that is NOT the Parkmore Institute. First of all, let's see what programs they offer:

None of them are legit.

And I mean, none of them are recognize as even Applied/Professional Doctorate by the National Science Foundation (US based). And while a PhD in Human sexuality would be perfectly valid, but I'm going to on a limb and say I have some serious doubts about "Bodymind Healing" as an academic field.

These are not legit academic degrees.

What they are, is an excellent money-making opportunity for anyone working at the Parkmore institute. Students will pay, at the very least:

And 60% of this goes to their " faculty mentor". The Parkmore institute provides no research fund, no desk or office space (they are entirely digital), no access to any resources or library, not even a Zoom account. There is also no mention of any timeline: how long a PhD take to complete? Who knows. 6 months ? A year ? 5 years? What are the requirements to graduate ? Who knows ! And I would need to pay $200 to get in touch with them, so I sure as fuck won't know any time soon!

But let's get back to our friend John. Remember that he stated, in that 2021 publication, he was a "PhD Scholar" at Parkmore ? Well that's a shame because Parkmore does not deliver PhDs. Ain't that a bitch.

ALSO. Parkmore helpfully has page with all their Doctoral Recipients! And guess who is NOT HERE ! That's right, our Johnnie !

How can this be ? Well, three possibilities:

John is still not done with a PhD. After 4 years ? In a crank university where I am pretty sure I can submit the first draft of a litt review and graduate ? Nah

John never completed the thing. Boo, that would mean that John is lying, when he says he has a doctorate. Bad, bad.

John did graduate, and obtained his doctorate in [scrolls back to check] psychosocial studies, and then was not put on the website or was withdrawn some time before today, as Parkmore institute ended their affiliation with him, as per this bit in their application form

A shame, really. If John had been affiliated with the Parkmore Institute, it would give a shred of legitimacy to anything he writes to anyone just skimming.

Now, I would love to get in touch with the Parkmore Institute and ask to see John's doctoral work, which they DO have, since the application for also has this very interesting section:

(definitely very legit, very normal).

But I am not sure how I would even phrase that request without transparently going

"hey, would love to see what bullshit research is being done over there, since one of your graduate decided to go all Handmaid's tale for the last 2 years".

If anyone feels like sending that email, I am begging you to keep me in the loop.

3. Back up, back up, what's up with that article?

Remember the article where he was listed as a "PhD Fellow"?

Well, about that... No. Welcome to the world of predatory publishing, one more cog in the Bullshit Academic ecosystem.

First: not at article. It's a "commentary". Could be worth something ia good journal, but still would not be a piece of research. But that is the least of its sins.

Its sins are being published in a journal called "Sociology and Criminology-Open Access", by a publisher called "Longdom". Longdom publishing has a bunch of journals on a lot o different fields, with the particularly of being predatory; they will publish absolutely anything you send them, as long as you pay their Article Processing Charges:

There are entire lists of Predatory journals on the web, you can find on here and another here , Longdom Publishing is in both.

This is how John can publish this last minute, Redbull-and-weed-induced essay in an actual journal, with an abstract that, I kid you not, finishes with "Please find the paper attached." He slapped together a shitty essay about people in India are poorer and therefore more likely to exhibit psychopathic traits and therefore engage in corruption, purely base on vibes. It does not even deserve be given any consideration, not even to be debunked. There is nothing to be debunked. This would be a failing grade for a 1st year intro class.

CONCLUSION

On the surface, John Mac Ghlionn is the poster boy of failed edgelords who really wish they were Jordan Peterson, but unfortunately are just Doug, the guy for 10th grade who failed the Literature class and decided it was because litterature was too woke today anyway.

Beneath the surface, John is a case study in Scam Academia, and the proof that no matter how bad actual academia is, Scam Academia can always get worse.

A quick checklist to go through whenever someone claims be a researcher, an academic, a fellow, a doctor, a PhD or anything of the sort:

What is their affiliation? Is this a legitimate organization?

Do they have a PhD? Another doctorate degree? From where?

Have they published ? Where is it published?

[spacelazarwolf]

lmao k we’re gonna talk abt ashkenormativity and the weird hostility some of y’all have toward non ashki jews.

so yesterday i was trying to have a discussion on this post, and the person responded with this:

and then promptly blocked me.

after which they posted a bunch of bullshit that i am now going to tear to shreds.

regarding the above screenshot:

- if you’re defining yiddish culture as “ashkenazi jews who speak yiddish” you are still erasing multiple communities of ashkenazi jews. italian ashkenazi jews migrated or fled to northern italy during the middle ages, long before the establishment of the pale of settlement, and have a culture that is distinctly influenced by italian culture, not eastern european culture.

- sounds like you’re outright excluding any group of ashkenazi jews who don’t speak yiddish or live in central or eastern europe. which is literally the reason i started the dialogue in the first place.

- talking down to me as if i don’t know what the difference between ashkenazi and sephardi is.

- immediately followed by incorrectly defining ashkenazi. ashkenazim are a group of diaspora jews who originally settled in the ashkenaz. there are many different diaspora languages that ashkenazi jews spoke, including judeo-french, judeo-provençal, judeo-czech, and different dialects of judeo-italian.

- kinda sounds like ur saying eastern european jews who speak yiddish are the only “true” ashkenazi jews????????

- yeah there’s lots of issues surrounding the way eastern european jews were viewed, but that’s not what the conversation was about?????

- it’s not really up to you to have or not have an issue with who identifies as ashkenazi.

- there are many ashkenazi groups that have ties in eastern europe. there are also plenty who don’t. there’s overarching similarities between a lot of different diaspora groups, but that doesn’t make them the same. and that’s ok.

- kinda weird how you say “this is a conversation for the jewish community, infuriating how people disagree with us about our own culture” as if i’m not also jewish?? do you not consider me jewish enough to talk about jewish culture or history?

- it’s clear you’ve researched a lot about eastern european jews. it’s also clear that’s the only group you know anything about.

- this conversation had nothing to do with zionism?????? very fucking weird for u to say this??????? especially when i was literally trying to express that ashkenazi jews are incredibly diverse and can’t just be boiled down to “basically eastern european”??????????

- also again homogenizing all ashkenazi jews under “yiddish culture” when you’ve defined yiddish culture as being distinctly eastern european. which. again. not all ashkenazi jews are.

- didn’t try to correct u on ur own culture bud! tried to get u to see that ur own culture is not actually The Only One.

- “because only a non ashkenazi jew can ever accurately represent ashkenazi culture right?” you’ve got some weird aggression toward non ashki jews you should prob unpack.

- again trying to make this abt zionism when i was literally arguing the opposite.

- also i don’t have a “giant blog” lmfao.

- this is funny to me bc u r literally the one who misdefined ashkenazi?????? and attempted to homogenize all ashkenazim under the label of eastern european????? hello?????????

- “irredeemable zionists” yikes bro.

- literally just me when i can’t read and have no critical thinking skills.

- this to me reads like someone who is trying to invert the concept of ashkenormativity and position themself as a victim of non ashki jews. which is absolutely fucking bizarre.

- you’re claiming i’m “denying yiddish culture” while many of your posts actively erase multiple ashkenazi groups from this culture while simultaneously lumping them all in underneath one umbrella eastern european label. like idk how you managed to be so ashkenormative that you managed to erase other ashkenazi jews but it’s almost impressive.

- gee i wonder what it’s like to have ur culture denied surely as a member of a tiny diaspora group that makes up 0.4% of the global jewish population i have no idea what that’s like!

- you are not advocating for diasporism. you are advocating for your culture and your culture only.

anyway, on to my other rant.

if i want to know how to recite a prayer in the ashkenazi rite, i google it. if i want to learn how to speak yiddish, i download duolingo. it’s easy to find these things because people have worked hard to preserve them. and also because ashkenazi jews make up over 60% of the global jewish population and over 70% of the us jewish population.

italian jews, however, including italian ashkenazim, make up 0.4% of the global jewish population. and i couldn’t even find a number for how many of us there are in the us bc there are that few. if i want to know how a certain prayer is chanted in the italian rite, i have to find 70 year old recordings of italian cantors and rabbis singing them for a musicologist who dedicated his life to keeping the italian rite and italki culture alive after it was devastated by the holocaust, bc the only synagogues that still follow the italian rite are in rome and israel. if i want to know how to speak the language my ancestors would have spoken, i have to take a zoom class at oxford at 6am where we study manuscripts from hundreds of years ago. in 1900, there were 20,000 native speakers of judeo-italian dialects. in 2023 there are almost none.

in order to participate in any sort of jewish life where i live, i have to know ashkenazi culture. i have to know the prayers and the songs and the customs. i have to know the food and the language and history.

but y’all don’t have to know mine.

and every time i try to infuse my own heritage into my practice i’m reminded of that. when i make italian jewish food, people don’t see it as “jewish food.” people hear my last name and assume i’m not jewish because it’s not a “jewish name.” when i use italki hebrew, people try to correct me. i frequently encounter other jews who don’t even know italkim exist. so yeah. it is infuriating when i experience constant pressure to assimilate into the dominant jewish culture of where i live only to be a excluded from discussions about that culture because i’m not part of it. i am part of it. i have to be.

ashkenazi culture is beautiful and diverse and i do genuinely enjoy taking part in it. but it is painful to get constant reminders that i don’t really have a choice. it is painful to have people in your own community see your knowledge of their culture as a given but their knowledge of your culture as optional or doing you a favor.

so basically,

you are not being erased by the reminder that jews who are not like you exist.

[otogariado]

mentioning LOST's church ending got me riled up about the racism in LOST again lol. i obviously am aware that some actors just did not return to production for possibly other reasons, but also especially in the case of harrold perrineau (michael dawson) he felt like his character (and walt, his son) was treated like shit by the writing. and he was absolutely right. i've already made posts about this (will try to dig them up later), but michael was treated absolutely bullshit and unfairly wrt the story. michael betrayed them and killed two people, yes, but what did he do it for but to protect his son? he felt like nobody gave enough fucks about walt and there was some truth to that claim. his whole character arc is about being a dad to walt and their improving relationship over the course of being stuck on the island, so of course he would do that. it just makes sense.

which is why i don't think it's all that fair to punish him for it immensely in the narrative. harrold perrineau said it himself that he didn't want michael and walt to be another case of the absent black father stereotype [citation needed, i'll look for it but he said it in an interview] yet that's what he ended up being anyway. after his and walt's escape from the island, apparently walt cast him away because he doesn't agree with what his father did—which i actually think its interesting to explore: walt disagreeing with michael's actions and trying to grapple with it, but i don't think separating him from his dad was the best writing choice to make. walt is being punished for caring about his son by making his son be the one to cast him away. you can argue it's supposed to be tragic, michael is supposed to be a tragic character, but with the context surrounding michael's character? there's better ways to make his character be tragic than this.

which brings me to his next punishment. i was happy to see michael again on the kahana (just happy to see him in general), but it didn't last long when he gets killed, sacrificing himself to prevent/prolong the kahana's explosion from happening. (put a 📌 on this bc it's similar to how sayid dies and we'll come back to that later.) michael dies here and walt doesn't know about this. and then michael joins as part of the whispers, his soul trapped on the island (presumably forever) and that's why he's not in the church ending.

i'm gonna be frank. michael being trapped on the island because of his guilt or remorse or perhaps repenting for his sins is just bullshit to me. a lot of characters seen in the flash sideways and in the church ending are characters who've done "bad things". it's bullshit to have michael be the only one doomed to pay for his misdeeds forever. his misdeeds for... killing two people. not that killing two people is Nothing, but moreso if you examine the circumstances it's hardly anything to be damned eternally for.

remember the 📌 we had wrt sayid and michael? both of them died trying to prevent an explosion from reaching everybody else. which makes this more egregious imo. i can say 1000 things about sayid's arc (points to url), but this is about michael and not him, so i'll just focus on this: sayid was grappling with "being a bad person" for torturing and killing so many people. he worked as an assassin for ben. and yet, somehow, you're telling me sayid is not being damned eternally for his misdeeds but michael is? if you don't see the BS in that i don't know what to tell you.

i'm also aware why some characters don't appear any more re:conflicts with their actors (or just availabilities or other reasons for declining to come back), but even then arguably any conflicts with harrold perrineau stemmed from a justified place because of how michael was treated.

i think mr eko had a more dignified arc (he's one of my fav characters, thematically speaking) and honestly he had some of the rawest shit i've ever heard:

I ask for no forgiveness father for I have not sinned, I have only done what I needed to do to survive. A small boy once asked me if I was a bad man, if I could answer him now I would tell him, that when I was a young boy I killed a man to save my brothers life. I am not sorry for this, I am proud of this. I did not ask for the life that I was given but it was given none the less, and with it I did my best.

but despite this it doesn't change the fact that his absence in the church ending is very noticeable. he had meaningful connections with charlie, with locke, and interestingly like michael he kind of parallels sayid but this time thematically through their arcs. sayid is constantly burdened with feeling like he's a bad person and resigning to it as some sort of self-fulfilled prophecy, but mr eko is very firm about how he sees himself as not necessarily a bad man, just a man whose hands were forced because of the cards he was dealt. i wish we could have seen a more direct parallel between them, because it would've been interesting. back to the main point: i think it's such a missed opportunity for mr eko to not be here. especially since even after his death, hurley was able to communicate with his ghost, showing that he still had connections with his fellow losties even long after his death.

ana lucia being "not ready to move on" is interesting. but ultimately you can't help but raise a few eyebrows at it anyway. you can argue that, unlike mr eko she died an unresolved death, but most of the LOST characters died with an unresolved death. (she was killed early.) that's the whole point of the sideways segments. so what makes ana lucia so different from the others? yeah she killed shannon, but that was completely a freak accident. her people (the tailies) were being picked off one by one by the other so she was understandably on edge. she was kind of a hated character but i think a lot of it is just racism and misogyny combined tbh. (LOST is...notorious for a lot of misogynistic character writing decisions.) ana lucia was just as complex and morally "ambiguous" as the rest of them. i find the decision to make her corrupt in the sideways segments interesting (negative). cz like, there was never any indication she was like this in real life. what does that corruption symbolize? because obviously that corruption is a key to why she "can't move on yet". what exactly is she supposed to be repenting for? they hinted at a possible direction her arc is going towards before killing her off, ie. her ultimately choosing not to kill "henry gale" because she no longer wants blood on her hands. again, in a way, she's just like sayid! someone who decided they'd turn away from ceaseless violence. only right afterwards she got killed. so what does she need repenting for so much that she's left out of the church ending? much to think about.

i don't really know how to conclude this post. but my main point is that the lack of these characters during the church ending is and has racist implications. (again, i understand the casting issues, but it's still a writing decision you can critique as a viewer at the end of the day). i'll try to find the old posts i made last year abt michael and mr eko and their parallels to sayid and link them here (and self reblog).

edit: go read/look up "burn it down". it details a lot of the behind the scenes mistreatment of the staff (including racism and sexism), including actors and writers. the quote from an interview from harold perrineau that i mentioned was also linked in a reblog. (post link)

[dear--mars]

Bloodthirsty

── Synopsis: "The sun gave earth the most light but the earth is slowly destroying itself." Childe wasn't made for love and he knew this. So why does he keep trying? And why do you keep letting him try? Opening your arms for him to fall into even after everything, showing him such warmth that he thought he could only get from the sun.

── Character: Childe/Tartagliaa/Ajax

── CW: Toixc relationships, fighting, taking it too far.

── Notes: This is my 2nd and LAST birthday post. Enjoy the angst. [angst/slight comfort]

── Word count: 800+ words

Ever since he fell into the abyss, the euphoric feeling and the adrenaline that fighting gave him was one of a kind. As friendly as he seemed to outside people, he couldn’t care less about anyone other than his immediate family. 

He didn’t feel the need to connect with others, they would only get in the way. They don’t get him the way fighting does. Fighting doesn’t need to be logical, it didn’t have feelings he pretended to care about. In the world he was living in, he only needed himself and his own two fists. 

Being one of the Fatui harbingers didn’t help him either. If anything it made him worse. Childe became a slave to the adrenaline and the Tsaritsa took advantage of it, using him as a killing machine. 

But Childe never batted an eye, he knew that the Fatui was using him but it didn’t matter to him. He couldn’t be happier to be fighting and with his position as a harbinger, he gets paid an absurd amount of money for doing something he loves doing. Not to mention he’s able to support his family as an extra bonus.

He’s a family man but at his core, he's no better than a bloodthirsty dog. Someone like him is destined for violence, driven by anger, as he treats the world as if it’s only for conflict.

So what happens when he meets someone with the same kind of bite?

Your relationship with Childe was doomed to fail the moment it started. Both of you were too competitive, wanting to win everything, and treating everything like a competition. 

It was harmless at first. After a defeat, one of you would give a joking glare or side-eye before laughing it off and you’d be in each other’s arms at the end of the day, still madly in love. 

But as his work days get longer and your love fades, your competitions turns into more than just a lover’s quarrel or friendly banter. The two of you can't remember the last time you laughed together. Only screaming, yelling, and genuine arguing. But one day, he crossed a line he could never go back on.

“Well, at least, I didn’t try to kill myself over a minor inconvenience!” He yelled and the room stilled and Childe knew whatever happened after this day, your relationship would never go back to what it was before. 

You stayed silent, only able to hear the sound of your own voice. You bit your lip as anger took over you and you too, crossed the line. “At least I didn't run away from home because I was bored and fall into the abyss as a child and almost die!”

“You’re going there?!”

“Yeah, I am. What are you gonna do!?”

“Big talk coming from someone who almost got sexually assaulted and needed me to save them!”

“You bitch…. I don’t want to hear anything from the Tsaritsa’s lapdog!”

“I enjoy being in the Fatui!”

“I’m sure you do but your family doesn’t. I know you can see it. The way your parents and older siblings look at you, they're afraid of you. Because you're a monster. How are you going to feel when Tonia, Teucer, and Anthon find out who you really are?”

“Don’t spout any bullshit about family to me, when you killed yours with your own hands.”

“That wasn’t me! I was possessed!”

“It doesn’t matter, it was still your body, your hands that killed them. So who’s the real monster?”

“Still you! Can you even call yourself human with that foul legacy transformation of yours? You are the antithesis of what it means to be a human.”

“You know what? I’m with this!”

“Yeah, run away like you always do.”

“No, [Name] I'm serious I'm done with this.”

“So you’re breaking up with me?”

“For a fact, I am!”

“Then just leave!” was the last thing uttered before Childe slammed his hands on the table before storming out of the house. You sighed before running your hand through your hair. You knew he’d be back in a couple of days. This was a routine for you two but now you were doubting if you guys could go back and pretend that nothing happened.

It had been over 5 days and Childe still didn’t come home and you started to think that it was truly the end of your relationship. But you heard the door open, your head shot toward the sound of the door slamming shut. You saw Childe walk in, he looked a bit disheveled, there were clear eye bags and his hair was even more of a mess than it usually was.

We had eye contact and you bit back your usual questions, asking where he was and such. You saw Childe’s shoulder sag a bit before he walked up to you. Your eyes widened when he flopped onto the couch, his head in your lap. It was clear he wasn’t able to get much sleep. 

You let out a sigh before running your fingers through his hair, comforting him. You felt Childe melt at your touch, letting out a small groan as he nuzzled into your lap even further. 

That argument was never brought up ever again…

- Navigation -   - Prismarine -

[eddiediazismyhusband]

hey just a psa it’s not okay for any part of the fandom to send anonymous hate and death threats to other fans, but do not come onto my page to argue about how “valid” your ship is while simultaneously reblogging things that negate the mass amount of hate and vitriol that your half of the fandom have been spreading.

i am not defending any buddie fans who have done this but the amount of anon hate that i and various other buddie blogs have gotten lately simply for shipping buddie cannot be ignored simply because you have fallen head over heels for another character and have decided that everyone who doesn’t like that character is somehow inherently evil.

all this to say is im not afraid of the delete and block buttons, so if you come to my page speaking bullshit, i will not take the bait, i won’t entertain it, and it will be deleted. this fandom used to be fun but now it’s not because people have decided they think they’re better than others and it’s getting old.

if you don’t want to see a certain type of post, then filter out that tag- but for christ’s sake stop interacting with the buddie tag if all you’re going to do is make pissy comments on posts. I have had bt and tk tags blocked since the season started bc i don’t want to see it, simple as that- there is no need to go into another fandom’s tags to try and spread your own hate. that goes to BOTH sides.

[trans-androgyne]

I would appreciate if people read the relevant parts of this before sending an ask or following me:

Hi, I am an autistic transmasculine non-binary lesbian of color & mostly use they/them but he is fine. I do not identify as a man or woman, and calling me one is misgendering. I am fine with boy/most other masc terms. I first & foremost identify as an androgyne.

F.A.Q. Post

About the blog: This is a sideblog dedicated to discussing trans issues & the trans community, especially regarding transandrophobia & exorsexism. I am willing to engage in good faith discussion. || Block the “anonsense” tag if you don’t want to see me respond to people arguing in bad faith, misconstruing what I’ve said, & other things of that nature. || I am terrible at responding to asks. So sorry in advance. Always feel free to nudge me or send them again. || I hate the infighting within the trans community & love all my trans siblings. || Do not argue about the semantics of transandrophobia to me. I will no longer engage.

Interacting with me here: Do not call me pet names, especially feminine ones. I do not care what they mean to you or whether they are considered gender neutral where you’re from. || I’m autistic & use tone tags sometimes. Say anything ableist at all or support cringe culture & you’re gone. || Please don’t talk religion on my page unless it’s about advocating for marginalized religious groups (ex: Jewish folks).

“DNI”: Radfems of any kind. I do not care how trans-inclusive you think your radical feminism is. It isn’t. Genocide denialists; free Palestine. Zero tolerance for general bigotry (homophobia, transphobia, sexism, racism, antisemitism, ableism, etc.) and shittiness. If you think being mean is funny, something to be proud of, or your right as a minority then I do not trust you in the slightest and I don’t want you in my space. I’m pretty radically inclusive of all queer people and care a lot about destigmatizing misunderstood groups. So, if you’re shitty to any queer groups, people with personality disorders, people with low/no empathy, people with psychosis, systems of any kind, people with paraphilias, or anyone else for traits outside their control, get the fuck out of here. All this “DNI” means is that we will not get along, it will not stop me from interacting with you to call out your bullshit.

Accessibility: I do my best to tag triggering topics & provide all images with image descriptions in the alt text; if I ever have something with audio I will be sure it has captions. I put the underwater filter on posts to differentiate them from my words, but try to provide alt text. Please let me know if I miss anything or if you want to request an accessibility feature I’m not aware of! Thank you <3

My personal blog: @corezy

The transandrophobia discord server can be accessed by DMing me. Thanks!

[queenimmadolla]

CRUEL SUMMER - '85, PIII

summary: . . . the year Eddie Munson doesn’t give a fuck about not having graduated when he’s gotta save the girl so he can get the girl. (in which Eddie is in ST3 and reader is basically Heather Holloway) ┊ Eddie Munson x Flayed!Reader┊Main Masterlist - Series Masterlist - PI - PII

chapter summary . . . Eddie finally learns the circumstances surrounding your bizarre behavior and teams up with a ragtag group of kids to track you down and finally confront you. The only problem is you aren’t you because you’re suddenly committing grand theft auto and people around you are going missing.

chapter warnings: pining, billy hargrove (this fic is black reader friendly, I PROMISE), ‘unrequited’ love, angst, jealousy, mind control, nightmares, violence.

a/n: a very big thank you to my dear friend @kitmon for betaing this chapter! a literal angel ♡ and the detergent scene is inspired by this post, as I am a fan of LifeFire/Headdie/whatever the fuck eddie x heather's ship name would be and it was stupid fucking funny to imagine eddie seeing flayed heather do it. also didn't want to make Reader eat dirt.

word count: 8.4k

“No.” “What? What do you mean ‘no’?” Max demanded from her place in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van.

Eddie let out an incredulous, so-fucking-done-with-this laugh, void of any humor as he drove towards her home. They’d spent the entire car ride feeding him some utter bullshit story about weird paranormal shit going around Hawkins. Now, Eddie knew Hawkins was bizarre but he gave the credit for that to its rather conservative townsfolk. Not some preteen with mind powers and a gaggle of other kids trying to take on an alternate dimension and its monsters. He loved fantasy, so the moment they mentioned a Demogorgon, Eddie knew the whole thing was a lie. A Demogorgon was a monster that existed only within the confines of DND guidebooks and lore. Not in real life. “I mean whatever game of pretend you’re trying to play, I’m not playing.” He should have known better. Maybe they’d gotten mixed in all this when Billy had brought you over (thinking that alone caused his heart to ache) to his house and decided to have some fun with it.

“You don’t think it’s bizarre Chief Hopper suddenly has a new daughter after the death of his other one?”

“Sara.” El immediately leans forward from the back, frowning at Max’s lack of humanization for a sister she’d never get to know.

Max shot her an apologetic look before turning her attention back to Eddie who was sneering.

“You weren’t even around to see Hopper with his family, so no, I don’t think it’s bizarre! There’s a thing called adoption, you know. You adopted?” Eddie directed the question to El, glancing at her reflection in the rearview mirror.

She nodded.

“There you go!” Eddie sighed as he pulled up outside of the house they’d been directing him to, windshield wipers working aggressively to clear the constant stream of rainwater pelting down. “Look. I get it. It’s summer, you’re probably bored out of your fucking minds but what’s going on with Billy and—.”

God, he couldn’t even fucking say your name in the same sentence with him, it felt vile. Bad. What were you thinking? Why couldn’t he have just gotten to you sooner? He shouldn’t have canceled to make a few more bucks, if he hadn’t, you’d be with him. Not fucking Billy. Oh, god. No. He should have thought of another explicit word to use because his mind was racing with images that were making him sick to his stomach.

“It’s just adult stuff, okay?” He croaked out, throat thick with emotion. “It’s not whatever you think it is, you’ll understand when you get older.”

El opened her mouth to argue but Max hushed her, shaking her head as they once more exchanged a secretive look that Eddie could very much see since he had working eyeballs. 

“No,” El whispered in return as fragments of what she’d seen in her trances rushed to the forefront of her mind, the last being an image of you, soaked in an ice bath with red teary eyes as you begged her to help you. Then you’d been pulled away, dragged under by something wicked. That hadn’t been her imagination. Despite having seen you, seemingly fine in the flesh, something was amiss. Your eyes hadn’t looked the same as they did, had lacked life almost.

El directed her stare at Eddie with pleading eyes.

“You have to believe me, she needs help. She asked me herself.” 

Eddie frowned, exhausted with this whole back and forth. He’d been right freaking there and you’d asked her no such thing.

“When was this?”

“Last night. I can see things─”

Eddie groaned, yanking his door open. “Christ, I’ve had it. Out, everybody out.”

The girls scrambled out of the van and into the rain, staring up at Eddie while he pulled their bikes out from the back. “Enough! Enough with the magic powers, the lab, the visions and the monsters! This shit is not a game! If something wrong is going on with them, then I’ll find out on my own! I don’t have time for your little fables and I’m not a babysitter.”

Eddie was beyond frustrated. He’d wasted all this time with them when he could have been staking out your house to see what you were up to next. Instead, he’d foolishly trusted some 13 year olds and now he’d probably have to track you down.

He didn’t even know what the fuck he was going to do, obviously you weren’t going to talk to him now that you had your stupid ass ex-fling back and said ex-fling just wanted to rub it in his face that he’d gotten you because Eddie had been too little too fucking late, as per usual. Eddie just couldn’t let you settle for Hargrove, not after everything he’d put you through and how much you’d grown since Billy had discarded you. If you didn’t want Eddie, then that’d be fine. 

It really wouldn’t, because Eddie would be a total wreck and never forgive himself for missing out on you, let alone be able to get over you, but he’d rather experience that epic heartbreak over you choosing Patrick McKinney instead of Eddie. Or literally, anyone one other than Billy. 

Nevermind the strong sensation of danger that radiated out of the house while you’d been in it. Hell, Eddie had been reluctant to think it but the feeling also seemed to be coming from you as well as Billy. It was difficult for him to believe, he’d dubbed you Sunshine on impulse but it had immediately gained meaning as Eddie grew to know you. Regardless of how people tried to bring you down, tried to discourage you from what you wanted and where you wanted to be socially (he’d been one of those people at some point) you refused to settle, refused to give in and fall back into the crowd like your peers wanted you to. You were positive you’d shine one day. And one day, you did.  For Eddie, at least. He’d just been too stupid to see it—no. He’d seen it. He’d just always assumed you’d be there. Now, you weren’t. There had been no sort of sunshine present in your dining room. You hadn’t been you. 

“Just go home.” Eddie shooed them in the direction of the house, ready to go back to the trailer and collapse, though his brain was running a mile a minute to try and figure out what to do next.

As he’d been about to reach for his car door handle, it suddenly moved higher than his reach. And so did the door it was connected to. 

Because his fucking van was hovering a couple of feet in the fucking air.

Eddie’s mouth dropped open, eyes wide and the hairs on his body raising at the sight of the impossible.

His head whipped around to see El, hand out towards his van with blood dripping from one of her nostrils as a look of concentration morphed her docile features into something fierce.

He watched, stunned as she lowered his van, letting it go once it was just a couple of inches off the ground and it bounced on its tires. Eddie couldn’t even wince at the damage his rims were definitely feeling.

He was stupefied, gaze moving from the van to the young girls over and over again while his mouth opened and closed like a fish.

What. The. Fuck.

“Believe us, now?” Max asked, smug smirk on her face at Eddie’s astoundment. He could only nod stupidly, mouth on autopilot.

“Definitely fucked up my rims, so don’t do that again.” He whispered out, still mindfucked.

Eddie let himself fall against the side of his van, back pressed up against the wet metal as he ran a hand down his face and pushed the hair sticking there way, the rain wasn’t even a bother to him anymore.

His brain was spazzing out, sizzling like bacon as it tried to make sense of what he just witnessed. It just—It couldn’t! 

But it reminded him of the outlandish story they’d given him in the van. The government, the not so random deaths of Benny, Barb, the disappearance and reappearance of Will Byers and how Jonathan, Nancy and Steve’s weird little love triangle (used lightly, everyone could see Nancy and Jonathan would be ending up together) also was involved in the supernatural events. And The Monsters.

Eddie felt the blood drain from his face as he specifically recalled the one about Will Byers and how he’d been just about possessed by the Mindflayer, as the girls had dubbed it. A spy for its sinister intentions.

His stomach hurt.

“Okay, okay.” Eddie finally gave in, he still had no fucking clue what was going on and he really didn’t want to but there wasn’t anytime to waste trying to somehow argue his way into coming up with a reasonable explanation for all of this. It’s been obvious to him you weren’t in the most ideal of situations, despite giving him the cold shoulder, and he knew you were possibly in danger but know he knew El actually had real fucking powers and the stories they told him were true. You weren’t just in peril, you were in a life or death situation.

How he didn’t faint was unknown to him.

“What do we do?” The question escaped him in a rush as he started at Max and El, eyes wide with desperation. “We have to save her.” Max’s eyebrows furrowed as she stated the obvious and the desperation left Eddie just for a moment so he could glare at her. “I know that. How? Is it the Mindflayer?” “We didn’t kill it, just made sure it couldn’t come out,” El informed him, wiping the blood from her nose. “Look, I hate to put all of this on hold, but there’s not much we can do right now. We can recon tomorrow. Give me your phone number.” Eddie winced again, eyes darting around to make sure there was no one else around. God, why did this have to look so fucking bad? He yanked his car door open to dig around the floor of it for a piece of paper, shouting in victory when he’d found not only a receipt, but a really fucked up pen that still worked. He scribbled his phone number down and made sure to keep it snug in his palms to protect it from the rain as it was transferred to Max’s hold. “And don’t you dare think about leaving me out of any of your weird plans, I’ve seen those little looks you’ve been giving each other so I know you scheme. If it’s about her then I need to know. Deal?” “You’re not even offering us anything.” Max made a face as she shoved the receipt with his contact information into her pocket.

“Are most kids this annoying?” “Just go home and get some rest, Eddie. You look like hell,” she snorted out as she and El hurriedly guided the bikes up the driveway.  “I mean it! You better not leave me out of the loop!” He shouted after them before quickly jumping back into his van. “Go home and rest. Yeah, right.” He mumbled, fumbling momentarily with the keys before the van was sputtering to life. He yanked his seatbelt on and floored it, ring clad fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly as he made his way back to your house. No fucking way was he going home, now. Not when the love of his fucking life was possibly possessed by some cthulhu fucker. Eddie didn’t even bother turning to music for comfort, nothing but you could offer that to him and you were currently busy, apparently. When he was just a little ways down the street, he turned his headlights off and slowed his speed. He’d do a quick driveby and then circle back to park a little ways from your house, scope it out to make sure Billy wasn’t hurting you. That feeling of dread returned when he drove by and saw your home, every single light off and seemingly vacant of life. It was your wide open front door that really worried him, though. Fuck the discreet attempt. Eddie swerved into your empty driveway and jumped out of the van, slamming the door shut as he surveyed for the car he’d failed to notice the last time he was present but Billy’s Camaro was nowhere in sight.  “Sunshine?” He called out as he slowly crossed the threshold of your home, shutting the door behind him. The house didn’t seem all that scary anymore, he had a feeling neither Billy nor you were here.` When you didn’t answer him and Billy didn’t spring around the corner to attack him, he made a beeline for your room. Didn’t even bother knocking, just burst right in but like the rest of the house, your room was empty.  Eddie’s shoulders sagged as he sighed, a hand wiping down his tired face, back leaning up against your bedroom door to shut it. The day and his newfound knowledge were finally catching up to him. He was exhausted, physically, mentally and emotionally. And the stupid fucking weight on his chest wasn’t helping, Eddie was not a fan of melancholy or heartbreak, dealing with both the idea of the girl he loved being with someone else and being in mortal danger were not the obstacles he thought he’d have to face when he planned to confess his feelings.  Selfishly, he hadn’t thought he’d face any obstacles. Definitely fucking karma. Eddie should just pull himself together to go home and wait for Max and Eleven’s (he still couldn’t believe they had nicknamed her after a fucking number, the whole time he thought it was one of those preteen phases as Eddie had once tried to make himself known as The Munster. Terrible, he’s aware) call, just like he shouldn’t deal drugs. But he does. And he wasn't going home. He’s had a feeling, now that you and Billy were aware of your parents’ plans, Billy had taken you out somewhere. It was killing him to not know if you were doing something along the lines of Max and El’s memories or if you were doing something else with Billy. Were you completely out of it? Or were you aware of what you were doing? Did you really have feelings for Billy or were you being forced to stick around him? He needed answers and having to wait ‘til morning made him want to scream. So, he did. He collapsed onto your bed, body cushioned by your soft blankets and screamed into one of your pillows. He didn’t stop until it physically hurt his lungs to continue and only then did he shift around, kicking off his sneakers as he stared up at your ceiling, another thought (one he feared to even be thinking) plaguing his conscience. Could he lose you? And he didn’t mean to Billy.

People had apparently lost their lives when this Upside Down place was involved. And now you were mixed into it, would that mean you’d lose your life, too? Eddie frantically shook his head, trying to kick the thought out of it.  No. No, you did not get to die. You deserved so much more than what the world had dealt you and Eddie would move heaven and hell to make sure you got it. Whatever the fuck had a hold on you, he’d fucking rid you of it. And he was gonna tell you he loved you, too. If you didn’t love him, well then. Then, well. Yeah, he had no idea what he’d do but you’d still be alive so he could live with it. And if you did love him, then he’d spend the rest of his fucking life–your lives making sure you knew how important and loved you were. How much he loved you and wanted to make you happy. He’d do it every day. Tell you every day, if he could somehow keep from professing it multiple times a day (which he didn’t plan to). Wouldn’t be able to stop kissing you, either. GOD, how he wanted to kiss you. He’d had the urge sporadically throughout your friendship but it intensified around Christmas time last year and by the end of the school year, Eddie’s self control was hanging by a thread. He hadn’t kissed you then because he was too stupid to even think about acknowledging his feelings as well as yours. Then summer had punched him in the fucking face because all he wanted to do was kiss you stupid, hold you and just smother himself with your existence.  

Only he couldn’t. You were possessed and maybe dating your ex-whatever he was, while under the influence of something non-human (his brain hurt to make sense of it). How the fuck was he supposed to un-posses you? The only scenario he could think of was that of The Exorcist and while you hadn’t seemed yourself, your neck hadn’t been moving in ways it shouldn’t so an exorcism was probably out of the question. Eddie sighed, head nestled into your pillow before he realized it was your pillow, then he was pressing his face into again, albeit much more gentle, as he inhaled your scent, the ache in his heart immediately comforted by it. On impulse, he nuzzled further into it and for a moment, he was able to pretend it was your hair and you were with him, safe and curled into his side. Where you always should have been. He cracked an eye open with a sniffle to see one of your stuffed animals staring back at him. It was the one you’d immediately dove for, to hide, when you’d first invited him over and forgot it was still displayed on your bed. He’d teased you about it for only a moment before he’d made amends by having a one sided conversation in which he befriended it.  It was quickly pulled into his arms and Eddie was further comforted just knowing he was holding something you held and cared for. He hoped–full offense to the stuffed animal–he’d be taking its place in the future.

It was all too much for him, the tears slipped out before he could stop them. Eddie found himself muffling his sobs into your pillow. It was so unfair. So, so fucking undeserved. All you wanted was to be accepted, how could that fucking warrant all this bullshit? If Eddie could, he’d swap places with you in an instant. He’d do anything.

He cried so hard and so long, he eventually ended up tiring himself out. Eddie wasn’t even aware that he’d been slipping further away from consciousness, thoughts only focused on you, so much he even dreamed of you.

“You’re really not helping me out here, Sunshine,” Eddie commented with a smirk and a dry tone as he watched you get comfortable on his bed, stomach down and feet up in the air.

“You met her at one of your shows, Eddie. She knows you’re metal so literally every single piece of clothing you own is not only appropriate for your date, it also means you can’t go wrong. ‘Sides, you look great in all your clothes,” you said, rolling onto your back to peer up at him upside down.

“Now, you’re just flattering me.” But it had been the right thing to say, Eddie had already changed twice—eager to please—and just needed reassurance. You always made him feel better about being himself.

You were also making it harder and harder for him to deny his feelings. 

Maybe he shouldn’t anymore.

“Sunshine,” Eddie started, voice serious to even his own ears as he closed the distance between the two of you, squatting by the edge of the bed directly in front of you. You flipped over and sat up on your knees, hands clasped together in your lap with a hopeful gleam in your eyes. “I wanted to tell you something.”

“Okay, you can tell me anything,” you quirked and Eddie felt his heart squeeze, affections for you growing as each moment passed. 

He knew he could, you were always so easy to talk to. Still, something in him was scared, he didn’t want this to be another Chrissy situation. He didn’t hold anything against her, knew hurting people wasn’t in her nature but she’d still chosen Jason over him. It had stung, but he’d had you as a salve for the pain when he was finally ready to stop running from their end and stop seeking her out.

Who would he have if you got tired of him? Something about the ache he got at the mere thought of losing you told him it would hurt way more than any of his previous heartbreaks and that wasn’t something he was keen on experiencing. So, he chickened out. 

“You’re my best friend, you know that?”

“Of course, I know that. You tell me all the time,” you reminded him and Eddie just leaned forward to ruffle your hair, chuckling when you fought his hand away. He stood back up and went to grab his jacket from where he’d thrown it over one of his amps. He pointedly pretended he hadn’t seen disappointment flash over your face.

He’d make it up to you later, take you to buy a new cassette or something. God, what was he thinking? He’d almost ruined it all.

“I better get going or I’ll be late,” Eddie shrugged his jacket on, watching from the corner of his eye as you quickly pulled yourself together, pushing yourself off the bed.

It was only a little awkward as you both made your way out of the trailer. You walked over to retrieve your bike from where you always left it when you came over, unchained. No one really took stuff that didn’t belong to them around here.

Except for Eddie. 

“Well, I hope you have fun, Eddie. Just don’t trash her music taste if it differs from yours in the slightest like you always do and you’ll definitely get a second date.”

“What about you? Doing anything fun?”

“Oh, yeah. Babysitting some of the neighborhood kids. I think you and Lucas would get along. He’s a huge nerd, too.” You shot him a smirk over your shoulder as you walked your bike away, always too embarrassed to hobble onto it in front of him.

Eddie stood by the door of the van, the handle loosely in his grasp as he watched your retreating figure and felt the familiar feeling of longing settle into his belly. 

Fuck this.

“HEY!” He called out to you, already jogging the distance as you stopped to look back, eyes wide as you noticed the sudden change in him.

“What?”

“The thing is,” Eddie started, lips pursed as he debated over what he was about to confess. It would change everything and Eddie didn’t take to change very well. It was precisely why he’d ignored your feelings and his, hoping they’d simply go away, vanish into thin air someday. 

He didn’t want them to go away anymore. He wasn’t afraid of change. Because the change that would come to your relationship was the good kind. The kind that would allow him to hold your hand, kiss you, be close to you without feeling like he was pushing a boundary. 

“Are you okay?”

Eddie snapped out of it, focusing on your expression again. You looked concerned, of course you were worried about him. You were one of the few people who cared for him. 

He reached out, gently taking your soft hand in his, thumb stroking over your knuckles.

“The thing is . . . I love you. I love you, so much and I’ve been too chicken shit to say anything because you’re also my best fucking friend, Sunshine. I didn’t want to lose that. But if I didn’t say anything, I’d be losing the chance for more. I want everything with you, I want to be your boyfriend,” he confessed, giving your hand a squeeze as he watched you with bated breath.

You stared down at your hands for a moment.

Then you laughed.

You laughed cold and cruel and hard, before yanking your hand out of his grasp. 

“You think I’d want you? After all this time?”

The pain in his chest was immediate, he could feel the blood drain from his face. Then Billy Hargrove walked around the corner of a neighboring trailer, hands in his pockets with the most smug of smirks on his stupid fucking face. The fuck was he doing here?

“Why the hell would she want you, Freakazoid? She’s my girl, always has been.” Eddie watched as he walked right up to you, slipping an arm around your shoulders as you leaned into his embrace like you were used to it, your own arms slipping around his waist. Eddie felt physically ill.

He could also feel his heart cracking, chipping and shattering into millions of pieces as he stared hopelessly at you and Billy. It got worse.

Billy leaned down, mouth devouring yours in a messy kiss that you returned with fervor and Eddie felt like he was dying, could feel the hot tears of anger, heartache, frustration and betrayal—he didn’t really have a right to feel—already running down his cheeks.

He wiped furiously at them but they just kept coming. When you and BIlly finally pulled away, it was only to laugh at him.

Then it wasn’t just you and Billy. Suddenly, he was in the cafeteria of the high school, and everyone was crowded around, laughing at him, having an absolute fit of a good time at his expense. 

Eddie couldn’t breathe, wet gaze and red eyes darting around to take in all the cruel faces around him before landing on yours again, begging with them. 

This time, there was no cruelty on your face. It was void of any emotion before you turned your back to him and made your way into the crowd solo, Billy was no longer present. 

Eddie made a desperate attempt to follow you, trying to force and bully his way through the crowd, watching the back of your head disappear into it as he screamed your name, begging you to come back to him as the crowd got louder and rowdier. You were gone. He was left alone.

Eddie’s eyes snapped open as he gasped for breaths and jolted up, chest heaving and filled with momentary panic before he realized he’d experienced a nightmare. Or something close to it.

It wasn’t real. Thank fucking hell.

The nightmare had started off as a memory. You had been at his trailer, hanging out with him before one of his dates but he hadn’t stopped you when you left on your bike. Eddie had only watched you. Then he got in his van and went to pick up the girl he had asked out. 

He fell back into soft pillows, relaxing for just a moment before he realized the pillows were too soft and fluffy to be his, as was the mattress under his body. A quick look around his surroundings reminded him he was in your bedroom. 

He was also reminded of the horrifying circumstances regarding why he was in your bedroom and you weren’t.

Shit.

Reluctantly, Eddie got out of your bed, quickly gathering his things. Max would probably call soon and he had to be at the trailer to answer. He practically ran down your stairs, stopped, ran back up them to snag the stuffed animal he’d cuddled the night before. He’d need a little bit of you to keep him sane.

As he locked and closed your front door behind him, he just so happened to glance at your next door neighbor’s house, head doing a double take when he noticed their front door was also open.

Eddie did a quick glance around before he made his way over to investigate, brows furrowing when he noticed the door jam was broken. 

“Hello?” He called out, pushing the door open further. The entrance was a wreck, a small table with flowers had been knocked over along with a coat rack, which had a large section of it broken off. The broken piece was only a little ways away. The home had obviously been broken into and some sort of struggle had taken place.

Eddie had a feeling both you and Billy had been involved. Just as he turned to leave, a picture had been knocked to the floor caught his eye.

Of fucking course your neighbor had to be the goddamn Mayor.

He ran back to his van in record time, quickly peeling out of the area as he weighed his options. He couldn’t call the cops, not only because he was probably still on their radar, there was no way they wouldn’t try to blame him for it. Then, he’d get locked up and saving you wouldn’t be impossible from behind bars.

Besides, they were pretty much useless. He’d have to tell Red and El.

Eddie made it into his trailer just in time to answer the phone before it could finish its first ring. He nearly broke his ankles flinging himself at it, wincing as his shoulder collided roughly with the wall.

“‘Lo?” He croaked out, mouthing ‘ow’ as he rubbed the sore spot.

“It’s me.”

Red—Max, whatever.

“What’s up?” He demanded, shoulder pain immediately forgotten.

“Your girlfriend, you know her schedule right?”

“She’s not my—yeah. Yeah, I know her schedule. Why?” It didn’t matter all that much to correct her, right?

“Does she work today?”

“No. WAIT. Yes, she’s covering for her co-worker Heather. I don’t know what shift, though,” If you bothered showing up this time, anyways. “Why?” 

“Meet us at the pool then.”

“WHY?” Eddie demanded again, wincing once more when he remembered Wayne should be asleep on his bed. A quick glance into the living room confirmed his old man was still asleep. Thank god that man could sleep through the apocalypse.

“Why?” Eddie muttered into the receiver, voice much lower this time.

“We’re gonna see if she’s a spy.” 

“Were you not in the same house as me, yesterday? I wouldn’t call that atmosphere pleasant.”

“I wouldn’t call any atmosphere Billy is in ‘pleasant’.”

“Alright, you got me there. But I went over again and—hello?” Eddie was met with the sound of the dial tone. He rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath as he placed the phone back on the receiver. Kids were such assholes.

He took a quick shower, probably less than five minutes, and freshened up just so he wouldn’t smell in case he ended up in close quarters with you.

When he got to the pool, he was momentarily concerned he wouldn’t be able to find them. Then he caught sight of Red and El, crouched in the parking lot in front of a nearby car. They weren’t alone.

“Oh great, you brought the rest of the little rascals,” Eddie sighed as he walked over.

“Shut up.”

“I’m Lucas.”

“Will.” Eddie had seen him on a couple of ‘Missing’ flyers, had been handed one when Jonathan was passing them around during all of his breaks and lunch.

“Mike.” He was prompted when El shoved her elbow into his rib.

“Eddie,” He introduced himself, giving them all a nod before his attention was on Red. “What are we doing here?”

“I already told you,” Max sighed, ready to elaborate once more.

“Yes, I know that. I mean why are we hiding in the parking lot?”

“Plotting,” Max stated, glancing back at where Billy lounged on the lifeguard tower. Eddie followed her stare and frowned. If Billy was on duty, then they’d most likely missed you.

You appeared on the other side of Billy, still clad in your swimsuit with a towel over your arm as you conversed.

Eddie perked up immediately and so did the sense of longing in his belly. 

“What were you saying?” Lucas asked Will, referring to whatever it was they were talking about before Eddie interrupted with his arrival. 

Eddie didn’t take his eyes off you, too afraid you’d disappear like you did in his dream but he was listening intently to the conversation.

“The Mind Flayer liked to hide. He only used me when he needed me.” There was that unsettling feeling again. Eddie did not like that, not one bit. “It’s like you’re a doormat. And then, when he needs you, you’re activated.”

You didn’t look like you could harm a fly, sunglasses over your face as you appeared to argue with Billy, who didn’t so much as look down at you, gesturing to a kid in the water he’d most likely called a name.

You told him Billy did that a lot and it bothered you significantly.

“Okay, so we just wait until they get activated,” Max decided.

“No,” Mike shook his head, “What if they hurt someone?”

“Or kill someone.” Lucas added.

“They already broke into the Mayor’s house,” Eddie informed them, grimly. He was trying to wrap his head around the idea of the cute lifeguard, who held his heart in the soft palms of her hands, breaking into a home and abducting someone.

“What?!”

“I went by again yesterday.” Eddie threw Max a glare as he recalled what he had attempted to tell her over the phone before she hung up on him. “And when I left this morning—don’t ask—I noticed her neighbor’s door looked kicked in. The inside was wrecked and a lovely little photo of that asshole and his wife was on the ground.”

“That’s not the Mayor’s house,” Lucas corrected him, “It’s his mistress’ house. The Mayor lives in some fancy schmancy part of town with his wife but he’s been seeing my mom’s hair stylist and that’s where she lives. I hear my mom talking about it to her friends all the time.”

“Then they got a rude interruption last night.”

“We’re not taking any more chances,” Mike declared. “We need to find out if they’re hosts to it.”

Mike, Lucas and Will ran to the boys locker rooms to check something but Eddie couldn’t be bothered to go with them, choosing to wait with Max and El so he could keep an eye on you. The boys came back within minutes and had developed a plan to capture Billy. Which just left you.

Mike had come up with the idea to lock you in the sauna with Billy but Eddie vehemently rejected the idea. He was not about to lock you anywhere with Billy, especially since he was a little more reassured of your dislike of him. While you two had been playing house the evening before, it looked like you were back to being annoyed with him today. What the hell was up with that?

Eddie noticed you walking away and stiffend. Was The Mindflayer calling you away?

“She’s leaving,” he pointed out, a desperate edge to his voice.

“Oh, shit. We can’t let her out of our sight!” 

“I won’t,” Eddie stated as they crouched low to hide behind the car when you came out. He’d been expecting you to walk over to the bike racks but you made your way to the parking lot instead, hopping into the first car you saw. You dipped a little below the steering wheel before the car came to life and you drove out of the parking lot.

“Should we follow her car?”

“She doesn’t have a car,” was all Eddie stated before he bolted over to the van. Before he could peel out after you, Lucas’s face popped into view of the window and Eddie hastily lowered it in time for the preteen to shove a giant fucking walkie talkie through it. 

“Use this to keep in contact and be careful!”

“Thanks, kid.”

Eddie didn’t wait any longer, speeding out of the parking lot to make sure he didn’t lose you. 

His heart was racing, palms sweaty and gripping the steering wheel as he followed the car you stole. When you pulled into the grocery store, he parked further from you, just to make sure you weren’t on to him.

You got out of the car and Eddie realized you were still in your red swimsuit and white sneakers, with no bag or car keys. You glanced around you and Eddie quickly ducked down into the seat cursing as he waited a few moments before peaking over at your retreating figure. There was no telling whether you saw him or not, you were still wearing your sunglasses but if you had seen him, his presence didn’t bother you enough to stop you.

Eddie pulled out the TRC, fumbling with it until he managed to get it operating, “Eddie to Little Rascals. Come in, Little Rascals.”

There was nothing for a few moments, then static.

“Eddie?” It was Lucas.

“Yeah, it’s me. I followed her to Bradley’s Big Buy.”

“What’s she doing there?”

“Buying groceries? I don’t know! But I’m gonna find out. I’ll check in soon.” Eddie didn’t bother asking how their plan with Billy was going, they couldn’t exactly trap him in broad daylight with witnesses, nor did he even care about what happened to the mondo-douche. Not after he got you involved in this fucked up mess.

He did his best to maintain a sense of casualty when he got into the store, giving a forced smile to some lady who was staring at him for obvious reasons: his attire and general appearance. “Hey, how you doin’?”

Eddie speedwalked, checking each aisle for you. He almost feared he’d lost you, maybe you’d already left the store, until he reached the laundry detergent aisle.

There you were and for a moment, he forgot about the current situation, eyes raking over your figure with deep appreciation. Wow. Just—wow.

Then you grabbed a detergent off the shelf, uncapped it and began chugging the liquid down, effectively snapping him out of his horny thoughts.

Eddie could only stare, eyes wide and mouth open, dumbfounded. 

You lowered the nearly empty jug, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before you noticed his presence, turning your head to him.

“Hi, Eddie.” You greeted him as though nothing was wrong, like you didn’t just down an entire jug of chemicals.

“Uh, hey, Sunshine.” Was all he could force out because he didn’t know if he was interacting with you or The Mindflayer. Did it even allow you to be you? Fuck, it was confusing. Did he mention how fucked up this whole thing was?

“I’d go with the lemon scented, lavender’s pretty shit.” Then you capped the jug and put it back on the shelf before walking off. Eddie took a few moments to regain his composure, trying not to have a panic attack about what drinking that shit could do to you before he was stumbling after you but he was too late.

You weren’t in the store anymore and Eddie cursed as he made a break for the front doors, running out of them just as the car you were in—an entirely new one from the one you stole at the pool—screeched by.

FUCK.

“FUCK!” Eddie gripped the roots of his hair in frustration, paying no mind to the weird looks he was getting.

You’d gotten out of there fast, there was no way you weren’t on to him following you around now. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He ran back to the van, yanking the door open and rooting around until he pulled up the walkie talkie.

“Preteens, we have a problem. I repeat, we have a colossal problem.”

This time it was Max who responded, “What is it, Eddie?”

“She knows.”

Eddie heard a bunch of them trying to talk as Max held down the button before she told them to be quiet, “What does she know? What happened?”

“I was following her inside and I caught—well, I mean it was out in the open but not a whole lot of people were around—anyways, I caught her drinking laundry detergent and I was so damn shocked, she had time to make it out. She must have been bolting in the parking lot because by the time I made it out behind her, she was already driving off!” Eddie rambled, still shook up by the whole ordeal.

“She was drinking detergent?”

“Messed up, right? She took off in a different car this time and I don’t know how she’s doing it unless The Mindflayer gives his little puppets a crash course on hotwiring.” But even that took a few moments, you’d gotten out of there way too quick if that was the case.

“You have to find her, Eddie!”

“I know, I know. I’m gonna search around town. Be careful on your end.” The TRC was tossed onto the passenger seat as Eddie started up the van. 

He drove through the streets of Hawkins looking for any sign of you and while he didn’t find you, he found elements of your presence in the form of a few homes which looked broken into. He wasn’t entirely sure if you’d done it since Bradley’s or if they had been homes you and Billy had hit the night prior.

You made your way through the crowded mall, easily weaving between bodies as you approached the girls hanging out by the fountain. You’d since changed your lifeguard attire, He needed you to blend in for the next part of his plan.

“Well, well. Look who’s out of the house,” Beverly commented, hot pink lips pursed into an ignorant smirk. The rest of her lackeys giggled as if she said something remotely insulting.

“Thank you for stating the obvious, Beverly. I am—indeed—at the fucking mall and not my house,” you stated, face void of any amusement. Fix it, He commanded and your face broke out into a smile just as Beverley’s contorted in shock at your brazen reply.

“Anywho, girls, Billy sent me.” You waited for them to show signs of interest, He was pleased when they did; sitting up straighter, leaning forward to hear what you had to say. “He’s throwing a warehouse party tonight. Interested?”

Eddie was camped out in front of your house, sunk just low enough in the seat to see over the edge of the dashboard as he waited for you to come home. He had no luck perusing the town, so his best bet was to wait for you to come to him.

The stuffed animal was clutched to his chest again, mind entirely filled with nothing but thoughts and concern about you when you finally pulled up to your home in another car, having ditched the other.

He knew it probably wasn’t wise, but he needed to confront you, he had to find out what was going on with you.

The moment you were out of your car, Eddie was out of the van and calling out to you.

You stopped in your tracks, staring at him with a bleak expression, “Yes?”

He had no idea what to fucking say, so he went with, “Where have you been?”

“Around.”

His eyes squeezed shut for a moment, ache in his chest only growing, “Sweetheart, please. Please talk to me. What’s going on? You’re avoiding me, hanging around Billy again and not acting like yourself. Did I do something? If I did, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Eddie saw you fidget, brows furrowing as something akin to sadness appeared to pass over you.

“You didn’t do anything, Eddie,” He let you tell him. “Go away.”

You turned to walk up your driveway but Eddie was desperate, he reached forward to grasp your wrist and you whirled around, expression dark as your body tensed.

“I said. . . Go. Away.” It was hissed out between your clenched teeth with so much venom, Eddie almost backed down. Almost. The impending doom feeling returned, filling the warm night air with dread.

He clenched his jaw, preparing for you to attack him at that point but he’d take whatever you gave him. He could handle it, even if he had to wrestle you into submission. 

“No.”

Just as it looked like you were about to make a move, something odd happened.

You froze, eyes looking both at him and beyond him. The skin of your wrist under Eddie’s palm began to move in a way that was not at all normal or even remotely human. He stared in horror as your veins appeared to bulge and crawl up your arm, following them up to your face where the veins around your eye sockets—not normally seen to the human eye—were very apparent, bulging and dark. 

Your eyes were nearly pitch black.

With ease, you flung the arm Eddie had a hold of, sending him flying in the air before crashing onto the lawn on the other side of the street. 

He gasped, trying to get the air that had escaped his lungs on impact to return to him and was still gasping when he managed to roll onto his side, eyes darting around until they caught sight of you running towards a telephone poll with an electricity distribution box on it.  

Eddie watched, chest heaving as you tore the cover off, before flinging it at an alarming speed towards the telephone wires, one of the jagged ends catching along and snapping a wire from its place as its sparks rained down around you.

It was only then Eddie noticed the puddle of water, left over from last night’s storm, you stood in.

“NO!” He managed to yell, voice hoarse as he tried to warn you, gritting his teeth while he pushed his sore body up from the ground. He watched the wire dance around the street, sparks flying from the end. 

He’d just managed to get to his feet, ignoring the pain in his sides as he ran towards you.

Before Eddie could reach you, the wire end dipped into the puddle and he was sure his heart stopped.

Only, you weren’t electrocuted as you should have been. You weren’t affected at all.

Eddie’s running slowed to a stop as you reached down, grabbed the thick wire and raised it to your mouth.

“No fucking way.” He whispered into the air, mouth dry.

You bit into it and Eddie swore he saw your body illuminate, literally glow from within like a finger would if held against the lens of a flashlight, before the lights of the homes around him flickered, as did the street lights. Suddenly, telephone pole glass insulators burst on every pole as far as his eyes could see and the bulbs of every street light shattered. The homes went black, leaving your street and probably the next couple of blocks swallowed in darkness. 

Eddie could barely make out your figure fleeing under the cover of a total blackout, sprinting further and further away until he could no longer see you at all.

He stood in the middle of the street for quite some time before he painstakingly made his way back to the van.

The drive back to the community pool was filled with silence, his headlights the only source of light.

When Eddie pulled up to the pool it was obvious the area had been affected by the power outage but not too bad, a couple of lights flickering and the ones that weren’t were dim. The kids were all seated on the sidewalk, looking as defeated as he felt.

“We lost Billy. He’s flayed,” Max stated, sounding disheartened as Eddie sat next to her, grimacing at the shock of pain flaring through his side.

“So is she.” Saying it out loud made his eyes burn with the sting of tears, fists clenched as they rested over his knees. It was one thing to fear you were possibly under the control of that thing, he felt a whole new sense of terror knowing, without a doubt, you were. 

He explained what had happened on his end, how you possessed almost superhuman strength and managed to drain a large region of the town of its electricity, which also explained how you were easily able to start all those cars you’d stolen. The kids deflated further as they realized exactly what they were up against this time around. 

“What are you going to do, now?” Max asked quietly, fully expecting him to run for the hills. It’s what any sane person would do. 

Max didn’t know Eddie wasn’t sane. And if it hadn’t been you in this situation, he would have run, wouldn’t have even been mixed into this whack ass situation.

But it was you and Eddie was done running from you. It was high time he ran towards you.

“I’m gonna save her. Or—y’know, die trying, I guess.”

“The girl,” you asked, grabbing the rag at your side. ��Was it her?”

“Yeah. It was her. She knows now. She knows about me.” Before you could press it to the cut actively bleeding on Billy’s forehead, his hand darted out to grip your arm. “Will Munson be a problem?”

“No,” Brief flashes of warm, pretty brown kind eyes, a smirk, a wide grin, and brown curls managed to slip past His control before they were snuffed out, the ashes left to sink into the the grips of the Upside Down, along with your freewill.

Billy’s grip on your arm loosened and despite his bruising hold, there were no marks left behind on your skin. You were one in the same.

“She could have killed me,” he continued, and you felt what he feared. The failure of your plan. Of His plan.

“Yes.” Billy would be no match for the girl with superhuman abilities. Even with the gift He bestowed you, you may be no match for her. “But not us.”

You turned your head, both you and Billy taking in the sight of your growing numbers, various members of the community now a part of your legion, a part of Him. Soon, you would all join Him as one.

“Not us.”

And He watched you, from the eyes of the creature left behind in the world he’d been cast out of. 

In his domain, the realm of the Upside Down, the being, the nightmare who would soon be known began his preparations.

[terraliensvent]

Ok civ's response is honestly kinda funny, I should've known only someone equally as delusional could go along with coy's bullshit all this time.

https://toyhou.se/~bulletins/2068868.update

Image link in case it gets deleted: https://imgur.com/a/lDxBSoT

As another unemployed artist the fact they think terra staff "ruined their income" when not only are they absolutely popular enough to make money off their art. They also have coy's audience backing them as well, so this claim is extremely laughable to me. Try having no audience at all and not having a community made up of big spenders from cs communities, then maybe we'll feel a little sympathy.

Or better yet maybe if you and coy contributed an ounce of effort beyond being greedy assholes you'd still be able to make money off the species. But no, clearly they never learn their fucking lesson because every single species they've made eventually gets ruined because of their insistence on running the species according to how much money they can make.

It's genuinely hilarious to me that they both actually think they're the victims in this situation because terra staff finally put their foots down and said they can't keep using the species for money. Go get a damn job if you're that desperate and stop taking advantage of the people who want to actually enjoy the species and especially stop causing issues for the terra staff team who are actually fucking trying despite all the bullshit they've had to go through because of you both.

I'm so tired of them and entitled greedy cs owners in general, I couldn't fathom being this self centered honestly it's sad.

post related

bulletin link

yeah i think im gonna call bullshit on this, lets do a little dissection here

" What they didn't mention was how they banned both coy and myself (even though I had nothing to do with the deletion of the pets/left the conversation civilly before that was discussed), "

even if civ had nothing to do with deleting the pets, i would argue terra staff made the right choice in banning them. what coy did is equivalent to vandalism and can cause further problems if there are issues with code and such. furthermore, wouldnt it make sense to ban civ as well if theyre closely associated and have the power on the account to do more vandalism? civ you werent doing shit for the species other than farting out adopts every week, youll live.

 "..refused to negotiate with us, did not include us in the original discussion about OUR OWN TERMS that were agreed on when we left ownership, and the new owner was unwilling to participate in the discussion originally."

i am SO curious to see what actually went on in staff chat. the conclusion im personally drawing here is that the original discussion occurred in a staff-only chat (somewhere where civ and coy wouldnt be because theyre NOT FUCKING STAFF) and then when the final agreement was reached, they came to civ and coy. maybe they could have gone differently about it but honestly, knwoing now that civ and coy have continually shut down any sort of discussion like this due to their greed (cough cough THIS whole debacle) im not surprised they wouldnt be asked for their two cents.

"Both sides have made mistakes; but the terra staff refused to acknowledge their dishonest and disrespectful actions that led up to this. Had they been willing to compromise and talk to us, this wouldn't have happened. "

again i am just not willing to believe this when civ and coy have a history of being shitty to staff (shall i bring back the receipts?), when cal(tycho) has a history of being a good owner even after the enormous shitshow of what you put him through, when, after you two finally fucked off, things are actually being MOVED FORWARD in the species (like trait guides, new items to allow lim traits, new site assets, all within a timeframe of like. two months. civ and coy had the species for over a fucking year and did nothing. just some food for thought)

like im not going to believe you unless you give adequate proof in the form of screenshots or something. but they probably wouldnt do that because it would most likely show current staff being totally reasonable and you two shitting your diapers over it.

"They silenced me and put their foot down, ruining my source of income as a disabled unemployed artist."

hmm lets crunch some numbers here

you have seven terra adopts that are on your most recent designs tab. presumably you are allowed to keep the money from that because it happened before everything went down

now a lot of these are pretty pricey, the first in the list is $300

however if you go through the rest of their recent designs its all little chibi stuff for around ~$20. that could be a defense for the "wah wah you stole my one source of income" if it werent for the fact these designs almost never go unsold, they have chibi slots open for $45, and they also have fucking isopups to ride the coattails off of. like you will be fine, you have many ways to make money off of your art as opposed to some 10 follower account. this is pop artist bitching at its finest.

and again, it is THEIR FAULT they dont have terra income anymore. how in the world is it fair for them to have more money opportunities than people actively working on the species just because they slapped their names on it.

finally lets do a funny little comment showcase!

people keep equating the old staff team to the new staff team. lets talk about bear, lets talk about kea, lets talk about fucking coy. thats the staff YOU employed, not the people trying to throw together the pieces. you want to again, absolve yourself of all responsibility acting like it wasnt YOUR FRIENDS that YOU picked for the staff team that was causing problems. bear literally caused the first downfall of the species (architechals) and YOUR staff are the ones who ran with it and decided to be petty and immature and make knockoffs. i swear to god this reminds me of people saying shit like "the economy was better under x president!" when the current president inherits the economy of the previous one

jesse please do everyone a favor and just shut up for once, you only care as long as you can profit off of the situation, your wording is so stupid i genuinely lost braincells. civ and coy absolutely do have the means to make money off their art, far more than other people, and the issue with the situation is that theyre making more money off the species than the people actually putting in work to maintain the fucking species, the agreement according to tycho would have STILL allowed them to make more than terra staff but they were too greedy and stupid to just shut up. and to make an ableism argument really just makes me want to bash my head into a wall. civ is not some poor discarded puppy "thrown out in the rain," they have the ability to make a lot more fucking money than most others can off of art, and not to mention they have the ability to use the fans of those they have connections with, like coy or even fucking kea

but in all seriousness, its SO fucking funny to me how theyre acting like civ and coy are some fucking marytrs for terraliens, like they were working sleepless nights to do the best they could each and every day hoping and praying they could make it!! please be fucking for real. again, that species did not even have TRAIT GUIDES for the full calendar year after it was created because civ and coy just didnt give enough of a fuck to do it. listen im gonna ride or die for new staff right now because there is TANGIBLE EVIDENCE of them actually going above and beyond anything ever done under civ and coy. compare #staff-wips from civ and coys reign to now. before, all you would see is adopts. thats it. nothing else just adopts. now, within the course of three months, new staff have come up with unique events, had lore writer, mod, and OA applications, released a new set of forageables THAT GIVE REWARDS, entirely revamped one of the forage areas with plans to do the rest, held the myo compensation event (a feat in and of itself), show CONTINUAL wips of shit actually important to the species (like new items), take in community input, and again, above all else, FINALLY put out trait guides. id say theyre doing fucking leagues more work than civ and coy ever did.

and this is just fucking laughable. ive already made all my arguments, you can see the types of people we are dealing with here. calling jealousy is absurd and downright hilarious

their fanbases need to wake tf up because these people love to victimize themselves and misconstrue shit all day long

[velvetvexations]

Possibly they mean the current row over transphobes seeing people as their assigned sex? Some people are desperately insecure and seeing any even hypothetical relation to what they're transitioning away from to be so terrifyingly abhorrent that they entirely misunderstand what's being said. Case in point:

Not to psychoanalyze, but, like, wow, right? This is either maliciously lying or an incredibly sad coping mechanism. People are literally just saying that transphobes don't see people as the gender they identify as, but somehow this has led to the completely off the wall takeaway "trans women are men."

Like, no one is saying that. Literally no one is saying that, except for TERFs who I and every transmasc in this discourse shut down when they try to insert themselves into the conversation with their obviously wrong and vile bullshit.

And it's telling transradfems never actually...engage with what's being said at all. Like they never take a post and argue with it, they exclusively post about takes that don't exist. They're shadow boxing.

It breaks my brain a little. Like, how? How do you do this? How do you get this twisted a perception? Every single day anti-transandrophobia activists are repeating endlessly that they don't think transfems oppress them or anything remotely like that. Beyond intentionally trying to deceive their audience, it feels like transradfems are driven by an intense fear of anyone - even actual transphobes - seeing them as as the gender they were assigned that they not only deny that, but also take any acknowledgement of how transphobes think as misgendering them as well.

Which is just sad. It sucks that a transphobic society has made them this unbelievably skittish as to have a meltdown over the very thought that anyone could view them incorrectly. A person's gender validity is not dependent on what others think of them and it's not misgendering each other to understand that some people we are all aligned against have incorrect beliefs.

The "so you're saying we OPPRESS YOU?" reaction to "maybe don't slur other trans people?" may also arise out of this. It's plausible transradfems can't acknowledge trans women and trans men are on the same plane, with equal capacity (no more, no less) to harm each other, because they feel like they're somehow not getting the full Fymyle experience of being maximumly oppressed by all definitions of man at all times. Their problem with cis radical feminism is purely that they aren't allowed into the club, so naturally they can only relate trans men talking about their issues or expressing a belief that trans women are capable of causing them harm with MRAs. Cis men oppress all trans people, but to copy-and-paste the experience of being a cis woman as closely as possible, you can't be equal with any men whatsoever, even just trans men.

TERFs are well-understood to define womanhood around suffering and asserting themselves the biggest sufferers of all, and that's the definition transradfems have inherited.

I'm sorry, anon. You're a man and I'm so, so happy for that, your masculinity makes the world a better place. Please always be who you are. <3

my proposal is that we all start casually referring to all trans people as transmisogyny affected

"TMAs have it so rough" "yeah, trans women, men, and non-binary people of all sexual characteristics and assigned genders do have it rough, you're right"

trans radical feminism's one and only distinction form radical feminism is that they want to make a small edit to how it determines if someone is a man or a woman

I AM awesome!

Trans radical feminism and being a tankie are practically inseparable so it's a much more politically homogenous group taking a swing at a number of people likely to severely disagree on several things, like people who support Israel as a concept if not it's current actions vs. those who see the concept as the problem regardless of who's in charge.

Good instincts.

He seems like a very miserable guy.

Ideally we should make an effort to do work on behalf of others, but yes, it's not surprising and completely understandable that people tend to work on their needs first.

Yeah. It's based in radfem ideas of men being the ultimate evil and literally incapable of restraining themselves from harming women.

[that-starry-freak]

Welp the one of these last night (that I wrote like half asleep) was decently received so im taking this as a sign to rant more about how I dont trust Old Moon-

Or at least this time its how Solar had every right to immediately be suspicious of Old Moon and his intentions.

I mean, look at it this way? You have a best friend for like a year, who took you in from his abusive doppelganger, and cared for you and loved you. Who trusted you so much, and screamed and cried when you died. Who was known to have an infeority complex with his "old self", feeling like he isn't good enough

And then when you come back from the dead and he's gone? He's "evil"? All of a sudden? And he's replaced by that old self, who you've been told abused Sun just like your Moon abused you? Yelling and hitting and calling you stupid?

And he got a new house and just completely erased your old best friend after he left? There's no trace of him, not the house that he bot, or any of his stuff probably. But you find out that he left because he went crazy because you died? But you know he would never hurt the family, he wanted to protect it, and of course you don't trust this Old Moon because all you've known about him is that he was the abusive one, the one that your best friend had to be better than.

Thats Solar's situation. He has every single right to be suspicious of old moon, and tbh i hope his ass yells at him. Old Moon tried to deny the idea of a virus in Nexus's systems, even telling Solar that Nexus wasn't crazy by the end. What do I think of that? Bullshit. I dont trust Old Moon one bit. Because he benefits from Nexus being gone. If he's not there, there's no other Moon to share Sun with. If he's not there, you can get close with his ex best friend. If he's not there, no one can see how he's so much nicer and always was so much better with social interaction.

And he rules out the virus, even though he knows dark sun has something to do with Nexus leaving. Like??? You're supposed to be the smart one Moon, stop being fucking stupid.

Also im pissed Solar is getting close to Old Moon, and hope he calls him out on his bullshit.

Anyway, I feel like the stupid ass, awful dialogue thing I made for the two a few weeks ago when i was like half asleep summarizes it pretty well:

(cw, mention of suicide at the end)

"You left him to rot! He was mourning me, he was hallucinating! And you've thrown him away like he's trash!"

"Sun has-"

"IM NOT TALKING ABOUT SUN! Sun and Earth have too much shit to deal with! Im talking about you! You left him! You didn't try to help him! And you've encouraged Sun to not forgive him, ever! And I know why. Because without him in the picture, you can be the perfect brother, right? If hes not here, they can't notice how he was so much nicer! How he cared about Sun so much more! No, you came back and you bought a new house and tried to get rid of Nexus as much as you could because he's your replacement and you're scared of people leaving you! Go to he'll, Moon. Fuck you"

"Listen here you-"

"No, you listen here. Go kill yourself again- Actually, no, because then you'll just hurt Sun again. Because that's all you do, hurt people! Now fuck off, I'm going to find Nexus and fix things."

(This also ties into my last post about old Moon)

Anyway yeah, as much as I love him becuase he's charismatic and sassy and sarcastic and funny (and I was raised to like sarcastic humor), I cant stand the bitch when I really thing about it for more than 2 seconds.

Next I honestly may just rant why I hate him- the last 2 things have also been about Solar and Nexus and that sutuation, but I genuinely may just make a whole post talking about how I hate him-

ALSO THIS IS NOT FOR DEBATE. I AM RANTING ABOUT MY OPINION, IF YOU DO NOT AGREE, PLEASE JUST SCROLL PAST I DONT HAVE THE ENERGY TO ARGUE. YOU ARE ENTITLED TO YOUR OWN OPINION AND SO AM I ♡♡

[lunardragon00]

Supernatural (Hongjoong x Reader) preview

Eternal Sunshine Masterlist

A/N: Hey guys, so sorry about the long wait. I've had a lot going on recently and my time was completely all over the place. But, I am back and plan to continue these stories!!! As an apology, here's a snippet of Supernatural that will be posted later this week, Enjoy!

Y/N hesitated, weighing her options. "I'm sorry, I'm a bit confused. You want me to write the strike story and the fashion story?" She questioned him. He leaned back and laughed a bit. 

"Oh no no no, the striker's story will be given to Jongho. I want your focus to be on Mr. Kim. Don't worry, you'll still have 3 weeks to get the story done." Y/N felt a surge of frustration rising within her as Mr. Johnson clarified the assignment. She had poured countless hours into researching and preparing the striker's story, only to have it snatched away in an instant. And now, she was being thrust into a world she knew little about – the world of high fashion.

"But sir," she began, trying to keep her voice steady despite the annoyance bubbling beneath the surface, "I've been working on the striker's story for weeks. I've invested a lot of time and effort into it. I don't think it's fair to just pass it on to someone else."

Mr. Johnson leaned forward, his expression serious. "I understand your frustration, Miss L/N, but this is a decision that's come from higher up. The opportunity to cover Kim Hongjoong's rise to fame is too important for us to pass up. And I believe you're the right person for the job."

Y/N gritted her teeth, her annoyance growing with each passing moment. She knew Mr. Johnson had a point – opportunities like this didn't come around often – but that didn't make it any easier to accept.

"And what about Jongho?" she asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "He's going to be thrilled about getting the striker's story handed to him on a silver platter. He's going to see this as a victory over me."

Mr. Johnson sighed, rubbing his temples as if trying to ward off an impending headache. "I know Jongho can be... competitive," he admitted, "but this decision wasn't made to pit the two of you against each other. It was made because I believe both of you are capable of handling these assignments. And I trust that you'll rise to the challenge."

Y/N clenched her fists, her frustration reaching its boiling point. She knew arguing further would be futile; Mr. Johnson had made up his mind. With a resigned nod, she forced herself to accept the assignment, pushing aside her annoyance for the time being.

"Fine," she muttered, her tone curt. "I'll do it."

Mr. Johnson offered her a sympathetic smile. "I know this isn't what you had in mind, Y/N, but I promise you won't regret it. Now, go meet with Hongjoong and see where this story takes you. Who knows? You might just discover a whole new world waiting to be explored."

With a heavy sigh, Y/N rose from her seat, her mind already racing with thoughts of the daunting task ahead. As she left Mr. Johnson's office, she couldn't shake the feeling of resentment lingering in the air. But she knew she had no choice but to tackle the assignment head-on, no matter how much she wished things had turned out differently.

"This is such bullshit, I mean I worked day and night on that stupid article. I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into it and now it's going to just be handed off to Jongho. And now, I have to write and article about some random guy from nowhere land. It's an insult, seriously." Y/N stirred the pot of pasta on the stove as she spoke. 

"I'm sorry hun, that sucks. But hey, maybe it won't be so bad, he could be a cool guy." Her friend, Wooyoung, trying to offer sympathy to her. Y/N huffed, her frustration still evident. 

"I highly doubt it. He's just some fashion designer, probably full of himself and his fancy clothes. What could I possibly have in common with him?" She saw Wooyoung shrug through the camera, his expression thoughtful. "You never know until you give it a chance. And who knows? This assignment could lead to something unexpected. Maybe you'll find a new passion, or even make a new friend."

Y/N rolled her eyes, but a small part of her couldn't help but entertain the possibility. "Yeah, right. I highly doubt that." As she continued to stir the pasta, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of resentment lingering in her chest. But amidst the frustration and disappointment, a tiny spark of curiosity flickered to life. Maybe, just maybe, this assignment would turn out to be more than just a nuisance. Only time would tell.

Story is now Posted: Supernatural

[gyarucoded]

gimme a sec i need to talk about this !!

so i saw a long ass reblog under an anti-sylki blog that started off as something like "actually loki & sylvie has good romance chemistry meanwhile loki & mobius doesn't have any romance chemistry at all"🤓– and in this moment i went "alright best frien i'm not reading all that" then went to block instead of arguing.

didn't try reading that bullshit of a post further either just to anger myself, i know better.

i especially didn't wanna argue cuz i think that was a child..??? (assuming from the miracoulus ladybug theme cuz no adult in their right mind enjoys that trash) but if i'm wrong that just makes it worse tbh, like grown ass ppl who srsly think toxic relationships should be the example of peak romance needs their brain to be studied fr.

i usually try to be respectful for others' opinion but i genuinely can't see where this opinion comes from.

makes no goddam sense to me.

maybe it's cuz i can't view things through a heterosexual lens, maybe not.

who knows?

but...(i won't make this abt lokius but focusing more on the "loki & sylvie" part) this made me wonder like...

what do sylkie shippers even post about?

no i won't check it out myself to spare myself from the headache but do they go "omg today episode's syIkie crumbs was so lovely dovely 🥺" and the crumbs in question is them disagreeing on almost everything and sylvie wanting to avoid loki as much as she can & constantly seeming to be angry at him.

sure, in s1 they did have a couple of cutesy romantic moments like being under blankets despite of them being supposedly immune to cold or the literal kiss but, it truly doesn't take a huge analyzation to realize that this "relationship" became one sided, even in that one little moment when they had to hold hands, sylvie immidiately goes "don't overthink it" like omgggsfg💀😭 and it's also clear that loki eventually got the hint, in ep3 he doesn't try to be with her anymore or gets emotional with her, he silently gave up.

not to mention loki avoiding to mention the kiss, when appearantly the two has nothing to hide? 😕

i don't know where this is gonna be heading off but if they randomly switch up after all this character & dynamic development then i have no hope for marvel's writing team cuz that would basically create a plot hole.

like aside from the psuedo-incest, that used to bother me in season 1 era but now i am concerned more about how this "ship" overall has no appeal, yet some of these ppl genuinely thinks it can work healthily between them and that ppl who are against it are just "petty that their gay ship isn't canon" when there's MORE to this.

in season 2 there's absolutely *nothing* happening with them that would make us, the audience, root for them to be together as a couple like i'm sry.

so yeah you can say i'm doing too much and too crazy over a fictional tv show (yes i know that babes i have full self awareness) but i literally cannot stress enough about how unhealthy it is to think that this is how a good romantic chemistry works.

based on a syIkie shipper's views: we could technically say that me + that one co-worker of mine who we always have disagreements on political stuff with & dislikes me for no reason is my "lover"... since we wanna pretend this is how love works 😀😀 no?

[mooseonahunt]

leons never done anything wrong youre just hating on him to stand out and be different from everyone else youre a pick me

Are you by any chance also on Twitter? This sounds like something someone from Twitter would say.

“Leon’s never done anything wrong” Are you stupid or something?? Your fave isn’t some perfect, infallible god. Just his treatment of Ada alone is what makes him off putting to me, and if you don’t find his behaviour at least slightly disquieting, there’s something definitely wrong with you, too. Don’t even bother trying to argue that it’s her fault he treats her like that either because I’m fucking tired of that narrative and it’s just not true. Others have illustrated the counterargument far more succinctly than I can, and I can link you towards those posts if you want. But if you refuse to acknowledge Leon’s faults, I can’t convince you that he’s not the god you make him out to be. You just wanna start something to start something because you can’t find any other form of enjoyment in your sad and pathetic life.

And why the fuck would I feel the need to hate him to stand out? Hating him gets people like you in my ask box being assholes and spouting bullshit. Also, who the hell am I being a pick-me for in this god forsaken fandom?? Leon’s a fan favourite. I’m not doing myself any favours by hating him. Have you ever used your brain in your life? Have you ever put some thought into what you’re saying or do you just say whatever comes to your miserable excuse of a mind?

Maybe I’m taking this to heart. Maybe I’m taking this too personally. I don’t care. I’m tired of Leon stans leaving annoying messages in my inbox. I’m literally no one in the fandom. I don’t have a large following. I’m not some beacon of analysis. I’m not a popular artist or well known fic writer. I don’t mod or write and sing fan songs or make edits or cosplay– I’m literally no one. Why is my opinion on this widely popular character so devastating to you?? Why does it push you to leave me that message?

[gffa]

If it means anything, I disagree with not all, but a decent amount of your opinions, but your reference posts are pretty much unparalleled in the fandom and you're overall an incredibly thoughtful and positive person to see on the dash. I've never gotten why SW seems to be so overrun with people who seethe so hard over real human people who happen to be having fun with the space wizards in a different way than them, I'd take someone who disagrees with me on everything but actually devotes their effort to posting about the things they DO love and why over someone with the exact same takes whose whole investment in SW fandom is complaining about how much other people suck any day.

Aww, this is really sweet, thank you! I joke about a lot of this stuff (because I find it takes a lot of the tension out of the air for me and I hope it can help do the same for others), but genuine I do want to be someone who can co-exist with people even if we agree to disagree and I'm not going to be super bothered by it. There are always going to be people we can't change the minds of, that we're always just going to disagree with them about stuff, and the more we learn to accept that and just simply be secure in our own positions, the less we need other people to agree with us. There are exceptions, like I don't think we should just chill out with transphobic and racist behaviors and be like, well, that's just your opinion. But the inconsequential stuff, like, it's Star Wars! It's a made-up space story! Real people are vastly more important than opinions about fictional characters! I'm really honored that you're not bothered that I probably disagree with you on a bunch of stuff and this message is so kind that I admire your thoughtfulness and kindness in fandom as well. I'm always for people who would rather devote time to the things they love and tell me why they love that, than trying to convince me that the things I like are actually bad. Like, you want to convince me that Anakin Skywalker deserves more sympathy? I am all ears, my friends, if you can tell me why you love him specifically! Nothing convinces me more than wanting to join someone who is having fun, like that's what I'm here in fandom for, too! re: whole investment in Star Wars being complaining -- Honestly, I think a lot is just that this is how fandoms are these days, but that Star Wars gets it worse because it's been going for like 40+ years now. The prequels backlash set the tone and even if the prequels themselves aren't argued over as much anymore, we're all just constantly rubbed raw by seeing angry yelling, so we have almost no patience left. Anger drives engagement, it feeds itself and that's why Twitter has so much engagement despite being so hellaciously bad for your mindset--anger drives engagement. The more angry SW fans are, the more they post about it, the more other fans get angry, the more angry engagement there is. We have to make the active choice to step away from it--angry posts feel good in the moment, but ultimately they don't lead to a healthy fandom long-term. There are things that are worth getting angry about re: behaviors towards real people, but about the silly, ridiculous stuff? I'd much rather be trying to make people laugh than to be miserable. <3 That's not a judgement on those who might see it differently than me, I've just had too much anger in my life, it became a poison and stole years of my life, so I do not want to go back there. It's much more fun to embrace the joy in stupid Star Wars ridiculously charming bullshit. <3