#jinx/junior

[cyberpsychosis-system]

Genloss oc wiwiwiwiw

[skyshroom]

Having THE worst day of my year so far but I know if nobody has me Dimension 20’s fantasy high has me!!

[cjinxrun]

So sorry to be the bearer of bad news but porter isn't wrong

[twistedappletree]

oh my fricking heck i finally scrounged up enough serotonin and motivation to write something 😭

[stevie-petey]

episode one: MADMAX

Steve is looking at Nancy so tenderly, and when he removes his sunglasses you see how much his eyes light up when she hits his shoulder and leans in close to him.  “I missed you,” Steve tells her, his voice soft and sensual.  It’s the way he says it that makes you want to run your hands through his hair, be the one in his arms as he kisses your neck and whispers how often he’s thought of you since you’ve been gone. You’ve felt his arms around you before, once. You know how securely he holds on, how his cologne lingers on your clothes long after he’s gone. You miss him, you miss everything. 

Summary: what does steve fear more ? you or the plague ? currently it's you, some guy with an awful mullet stares you down in the parking lot (gross), nancy invites you to a party from your nightmares, and you become an official unlicensed therapist for will. yay for junior year !

Rating: general, slight cursing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, descriptions of PTSD (slightly), swearing, and general angst and exhaustion

Words: 5.2k

Before you swing in: hello ! welcome back to the rewrite, hope yall are well :) heres chapter 1 of season 2 !!! so so so excited and ready to dive into this new season. things get a bit darker, feelings get even MORE complicated, and poor reader just really needs to take a fat nap and maybe some reassuring words. shes more angsty this season, so buckle up

-

October 29th, 1984

You originally gave Dustin the phone number to Bookstrordinary in case of any emergencies.

Now, you’re really starting to regret it.

For the fifth time this week, Dustin calls you at work to beg for money. Him and the boys recently started going to an arcade that’s opened up in town and have spent practically every day after school there this year. Sure, you don’t mind loaning your brother a few quarters, but at the rate he’s going he’s gonna drain your next paycheck.

Just as you’re thinking this, the phone rings.

Right on cue.

Alex, your coworker, smirks. “How much do you think he’ll ask for this time?”

“If I’m lucky, only a dollar.”

“Will asked me for three tonight, so I wouldn’t jinx anything.”

You gape at Jonathan, who has started hanging around your job after school just to have something to do. “No fucking way.”

“Way,” he laughs, pointing towards the phone on the counter. “Answer before Dustin sends a drone our way.”

You sigh and pick up the phone, which is on its second round of calling, and put on your best customer service voice. “You’ve reached Bookstrordinary, may I ask who is calling?”

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N.”

“Aw, I’m doing well tonight. Thanks for asking, Dustin.”

“I need five dollars.”

“Ya know, ‘please’ has such a nice ring to it.”

“... if I say please, will you give me the money?”

“No.”

Silence fills the other end. Alex and Jonathan are hunched together, trying to stifle their laughs. You send them a thumbs up, and they give you one back.

“You’re a horrible sister.”

“What!” You scoff at Dustin. “I think you owe me like, at least ten bucks now. Yet you don’t see me complaining.”

A loud groan, then an obnoxious scream. “I promise I’ll clean Mews’ litter box for a week straight if you just give me the money.”

“Tempting, and honestly I’d take you up on that offer, but I already spent my last paycheck on my Halloween costume. You’re outta luck.”

Dustin gasps. “You were gonna say no this whole time? You just wasted like, at least five minutes of my time! I could’ve been digging through the couch for coins by now!”

“Jesus,” you pull the phone away from your face as Dustin continues to shout. Jonathan lets out a loud cackle and Alex just shakes his head. “I can give you some money next week–”

The line cuts off. Dustin has hung up.

What a little shit.

“You remind me why I’m grateful I’m an only child.” Alex says, now walking from behind the counter to begin stacking some books. Technically your shift ended almost thirty minutes ago, but you and Jonathan prefer to hang around for a while. It’s rare to have some time with just the two of you (even if Alex is there as an unfortunate third wheel).

“Glad I can help.” You respond. Once he’s gone, you turn to Jonathan. “And you were right, Dustin indeed wanted more than Will’s measly three bucks.”

He laughs. “Figured as much. The look on your face was genuine disbelief when he asked.”

“Mhm, I’m scared these boys will turn into horrendous teens. The lack of gentlemen in Hawkins these days is astounding.”

“C’mon, I’d say I’m a gentleman. I mean, I’m riding on your bike pegs tonight to keep you safe.” Jonathan says, waving an arm in front of his body as if to present all his gentleman-ness to you.

“Sure, bee.” Although, he has a point. Joyce has the car tonight so she can drive Will to the arcade and Jonathan doesn’t like you biking home in the dark. After what happened last year, none of the Byers are particularly keen on letting their loved ones go off alone at night. So, to ensure your safety, Jonathan has started riding on your bike pegs all the way home.

It’s endearing really, wholly unnecessary, but endearing.

Jonathan flicks your nose. “Who else would be such a gentleman to you? Steve?”

Hearing Steve’s name sends a wave of varying emotions through you. Guilt, shame, remorse, longing. You miss him. You really, really miss him.

“I thought we agreed to stop talking about Steve.” You mumble, now busying yourself with a piece of paper on the counter.

After Will was found last year, you and Steve had gotten really close. He’d spend hours bugging you at work, he’d gotten you such a lovely Christmas gift that still hangs on your wall, and you’d grown close with him in a way you haven’t before with anyone else. He would’ve done anything for you, he cared about you with such genuineness, and you couldn’t handle it.

Summer came and the heat that came with it scared you.

You’d pushed Steve away, severed any connection you had to him. It was easier when you didn’t have to see him every day at school, but ever since junior year started, you’ve been in your own personal hell.

Steve walks past you in the halls without batting an eye. He doesn’t look your way, like the months you spent learning every inch of his wonderfully unique brain and the moles scattered along his face never happened; he doesn’t give you that smile that makes your knees weak. He’s avoided you like the fucking plague, which you can’t blame him for, but it’s only made things more awkward between him, Jonathan, Nancy, and you.

Jonathan sighs. “I’m sorry, bug. I just… he seemed good for you, ya know? I was actually starting to like the guy before you suddenly stopped hanging around him.”

You play with the piece of paper, hoping that if you don’t respond then Jonathan will just drop the subject, but a thought seems to cross his mind.

“Wait a minute. Steve didn’t like, hurt you or anything, right?” You don’t respond again and now he’s starting to get worried. “Y/N, I’m serious. Did he do something to you?”

The irony of the situation is so comical you want to laugh. Here Jonathan is, demanding to know if Steve hurt you and if that’s why you’ve stopped being his friend, when in reality it’d been Jonathan who hurt you. Jonathan, your oldest and dearest friend, is the reason you’re so fucking terrified of letting Steve in. Of falling in love with him.

You’re already in love with Jonathan, you can’t put yourself through any more hurt.

But fuck, you miss Steve. You’d come to rely on him and his obnoxious sense of humor that never failed to make you laugh. The way he so effortlessly filled the room with warmth.

“Relax, bee. He didn’t do anything. I just wanted to focus on Will and the boys more.” You lie through your teeth.

He gives you a funny look. “I know you care about the boys, but you know they’d want you to have some other friends.”

“I have you, that’s all I need.”

It’s all I can afford.

“Bug, I’m worried about you. You’ve all but thrown yourself into school, you work non stop here, and when you finally have some free time you’re spending it researching child psych for Will–”

“Just drop it, Jonathan!” You finally snap at your friend.

He stops, surprised by your outburst. He can see the angry flush in your cheeks now and the slight heavy breathing you do to try and calm yourself down. Jonathan drops his shoulders, defeated. He’s been worried about you ever since junior year started. You’re more withdrawn, you look like you haven’t slept at all, and now you don’t even feel comfortable telling him what’s been bothering you.

All Jonathan knows is that one day you were glowing while telling him a story about Steve and his stupid jokes, then the next day you looked frail and sickly as you told him that Steve was no longer visiting you at work.

Something happened between you two, he’s just not sure what or how to even help.

For once, Jonathan is at a loss.

–

“And then she chased Mike all the way down the street for her money! He got away!” Jonathan finishes his story with a grand flourish, laughing and hitting his steering wheel as if it’s the funniest thing in the world.

You let out a weak laugh, exhausted from the night before. It’s early morning and you’re in the school parking lot, hanging in Jonathan’s car as always, and you feel like utter shit. You stayed up late last night reading this journal you’d found in the school library about acute trauma in children. It had been fascinating and there were some things you thought could apply to Will. Before you knew it, it had been three in the morning and you needed to be up soon for school.

Which leads you to now: slouched in the passenger seat, sunglasses over your eyes to block out the annoying sun, tiredly listening to Jonathan’s recounting of his phone call with Nancy from last night. Apparently they’ve progressed to nightly phone calls now.

Lovely.

Without meaning to, your eyes start to drift shut. The car is the perfect cozy kind of warm and the late October air wraps around you as if to lull you to sleep. Jonathan notices you’ve gone quiet and pokes your cheek.

“If you fell asleep I’ll tell your mom and she’ll put you back on house arrest.”

You slap his hand away. “Don’t do that, then she’ll just ban me from your house.”

“You were up all night researching again, weren’t you.”

“If you have to ask, then that’s probably your answer.”

“Y/N–”

You put a finger up, using your other hand to rub at your temples. A headache is forming and you’re three seconds away from just skipping first period to nap in the car. “We aren’t doing this again. Drop it.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes. “I’m your best friend, it’s my job to worry about you–”

“And it’s my job to tell you to fuck off whenever you’re getting on my nerves–”

Suddenly a loud blue camaro comes speeding into the school parking lot, effectively drowning out whatever you’d been saying to Jonathan. The car revs its engine and almost hits a few students as it jerks its tires and then screeches to a halt, parking right next to you guys.

You and Jonathan look at each other.

“What the fuck?” You look out your window and are greeted with the sight of an attractive blond guy staring at you. His music is blasting so loud you can hear it through Jonathan’s windows.

“Jonathan,” you whisper, getting his attention. “Am I really tired or is there a guy with a god awful mullet staring at me right now?”

“He’s real.”

“Cool.” You continue to stare at the guy, unsure what to do. You’ve never seen him before, there’s no way you’d forget a face like that in Hawkins. He’s attractive, almost unappealingly attractive, and there’s a coldness to his beauty that makes you uncomfortable. He looks dangerous, like he knows how much power his beauty brings him.

The boy winks at you, a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth, and then gets out of the car, slamming his door rather harshly. It’s then that you notice the redhead girl, much younger than him, possibly around Dustin’s age, getting out of the car as well. She slams her own door and doesn’t even spare the guy a glance as she drops her skateboard down and rides towards the middle school across the parking lot.

Meanwhile the boy saunters inside, a lazy pace in his step that also holds immense confidence. He’s cocky, cool and collected, and he takes one last look around, as if to survey his new claimed battleground. You notice a few of your classmates gazing at him with interest, which you don’t really understand. He’s hot, but his attitude alone tells you everything you need to know about him.

Once he’s gone, Jonathan finally speaks. “Who was that guy?”

“No clue,” your eyes linger on the doors he’s just walked through. There’s something off about him. “But I don’t think we want to know… C’mon, if we don’t head in now we’ll be late for our first class.”

–

During your lunch period everyone’s buzzing about some upcoming Halloween party. As you’re walking towards your locker with Jonathan, you notice a few pieces of orange paper being passed around. You don’t pay much attention to them, but when Nancy joins you two she eagerly takes a few from the girl passing them out.

Nancy playfully shoves the papers at you and Jonathan. “You guys are totally coming to this.”

“We are?” You ask, eyeing the flyer wearily. You have nothing against parties, but the thought of being surrounded by a bunch of drunk teenagers in horrible costumes is frankly terrifying to you.

“You sure are, Y/N.”

“But Nancy–”

“‘Come and get sheet faced’.” Jonathan reads aloud. “Yeah, Nance. I think we’ll pass.”

Nancy groans. “I can’t let you guys sit all alone on Halloween. That’s just not acceptable.”

“Actually,” you correct her, annoyed by the assumption, “we have a tradition with the boys. We take them out every year to trick or treat and it’s always been fun. We won’t be ‘alone’.”

“No offense, Y/N, but spending Halloween with a bunch of middle schoolers isn’t much better.”

You make a face and look over at Jonathan for help, but he shrugs. “You gotta admit, it is kinda lame.”

“I can’t believe you’d betray me like this–”

Nancy smiles at this. “See? Plus, I doubt trick or treating with the boys will take all night. You’ll be home by 8:00, and Jonathan will be listening to the Talking Heads and reading Vonnegut or something, while you, my dear Y/N, will be baking a fresh batch of cookies and throwing away all the candy corn you find.”

“Sounds like a nice night.” Jonathan responds, and you nudge your shoulder with his. It does sound like a nice night, one you’re looking forward to.

“I forgive you for your earlier betrayal.”

“Guys!” Nancy stops at her locker now, slight frustration in her voice. “Just… Come on! I mean, who knows? You guys might meet someone and–”

Her words are cut off with a squeal as she’s suddenly lifted in the air and spun around, Steve having snuck up behind her. Nancy now puts all her attention on him, he has his arms wrapped low on her waist and he’s wearing sunglasses inside like some idiot, and your heart hurts. He looks good, too good.

Steve is looking at Nancy so tenderly, and when he removes his sunglasses you see how much his eyes light up when she hits his shoulder and leans in close to him.

“I missed you,” Steve tells her, his voice soft and sensual.

It’s the way he says it that makes you want to run your hands through his hair, be the one in his arms as he kisses your neck and whispers how often he’s thought of you since you’ve been gone. You’ve felt his arms around you before, once. You know how securely he holds on, how his cologne lingers on your clothes long after he’s gone. You miss him, you miss everything.

Steve, as if sensing what you’re thinking, risks a look at you. Your eyes meet his and for a brief second no one else exists anymore. It’s just you and him in the small Hawkins high school hallway, where he’s yours again in a way that’s clouded with “almost” and “not enough”, and you want to tell him how lovely he is and how horrible you feel for hurting him, but then he diverts his gaze and focuses back on Nancy and you’re thrown back into reality.

He isn’t yours. Hell, he isn’t even your friend anymore, and you’re the one to blame.

Once Nancy and Steve start kissing, you share a disgusted look with Jonathan and silently agree to leave.

“Young love, huh?” Jonathan jokes bitterly when you’ve left them behind.

“I hate it.”

And you do.

You’re really starting to hate this whole “love” thing.

–

The only highlight so far this school year has been you and Will growing even closer. When Jonathan told you that Will started seeing the Hawkins Lab people for treatment and to see how he’s been recovering, you pulled Joyce aside later that night to ask if it’d be okay if you spoke with Will yourself. Since everything that happened last year, you’ve only become more interested in psychology, and you’d be lying if you said Will wasn’t an interesting case study.

You told Joyce that you’d been doing your own research, reading journals upon journals, and she made you a deal. You could help Will as long as you also took care of yourself, that you wouldn’t place an even heavier burden upon yourself. Of course you agreed, promising her you wouldn’t, and that’s how your weekly chats with Will began.

Jonathan had been against it at first, telling you that you didn’t have to worry about Will because you already do everything else for the kids. You told him you could handle it, and secretly you liked helping Will because you were able to pour all your anxiety and complex feelings for Steve into research and studying. It was a win-win in your eyes.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Waters had been extremely understanding when you asked for Wednesdays off. After all, you’d been working at Bookstrordinary for almost three years now, so she was quick to make the accommodation.

Now here you are, another Wednesday spent at the Byers’ home. You’re sitting with Will in his bed, the both of you quietly scribbling with his crayons. You’ve learned that he’s more receptive if you draw with him, if you take your time.

“How was Dr. Owens today?”

Will pauses mid-scribble. “Fine.”

“Just ‘fine’? Nothing else?” Your head is down so he doesn’t think you’re studying his reactions, but you keep an eye on him anyways.

“Yeah. I told him about my latest episode.”

“You had another one? Would you like to tell me when?”

Will thinks for a moment, and you tell him that he of course doesn’t have to say anything if he doesn’t want to.

“Last night. I was back in the Upside Down… and there was this… this thing.”

Now you stop drawing. “Like the monster we killed last year?”

“Different,” he shakes his head. “This thing was evil.”

Will’s eyes are darting everywhere around the room, and you can see his growing unease, so you decide to put the topic to rest for now. Clearly the episodes are getting worse, scaring him more, so you shift gears.

“Okay, I believe you. I’m sorry for the episodes, but besides them how have you been feeling? Is school getting any better?” Earlier this month Will had confessed to you about the kids in school calling him “zombie boy” and treating him like a freak. You did your best to comfort him, and once you finished your chat with the boy you’d gone to Joyce to let her know.

Will sighs. “School is… school.”

You reach out and move some hair out of Will’s face. “I’m sorry, little bee. Middle schoolers are idiots, they’ll never understand how much you went through. I mean, I had to face that monster for only about twenty minutes. You had to hide from it for days, so you’re honestly incredibly braver than me.”

This gets a smile out of Will, which you’re relieved by. He’s been quiet lately, more closed off, and you’re worried that with the one year anniversary coming up, his episodes will only get worse.

A knock on the door, and then Jonathan pokes his head in. “Hey, guys. Mind if I join?”

“Actually, I think I should go. Bob’s been begging me for my cookie recipe, so I’ll leave you two alone.” You send a look Will’s way, a you better talk to your brother about this look, and he weakly nods his head.

As you walk past Jonathan out the door, you lean in close to Jonathan and whisper, “he’s struggling at school. Be gentle, kids can be fucking awful.”

He nods and squeezes your hand, silently thanking you, and you close the door behind you. While you want to help Will, make sure he’s adapting well, you also recognize your limits. He’s not your brother, Jonathan is, and you know he’ll be more open with him.

Joyce is in the kitchen with Bob, making some popcorn over the stove. He’s filming her with his ridiculously large camera and you can’t help but smile as you watch them. Joyce looks so happy around the guy, laughing more than she’s laughed in the last five or so years you’ve known her. She deserves this, she deserves a guy like Bob. Sweet, slightly silly, but good.

When Joyce sees you lingering in the doorway, she waves you in. “Hey, honey. Any luck with Will tonight?”

“A bit, he told me some of what’s happening at school. He still seems… off, but at least he was opening up. It’s a good sign.”

Joyce hums, but you can sense that there’s more on her mind. You look around to make sure Bob isn’t near, he’s busy digging through a cabinet to find a clean bowl, so you move closer to the woman and lower your voice. “What did Dr. Owens say this time?”

“Claims we need to just pretend everything is okay, despite the fact that it’s getting worse.”

There’s an edge in Joyce’s voice, so you’re careful with your words. “Well… I think he’s right.”

“You do?” Joyce turns to you, her voice loud with surprise, before she quickly remembers Bob is near and lowers it again. “Why do you think that?”

“I was up late reading a new journal I found about acute trauma in children. It’s been almost a year since Will disappeared, he spent days in complete fear, almost died… I mean, it makes sense that his body is remembering those traumatic effects.”

“So you think we should just leave Will alone, let him suffer through his episodes without any help?” There’s more confusion and fear than anger in Joyce’s voice, and you rest your hand against her arm.

“I know it seems counterintuitive, but the best studies we have all show that we have to let those who suffer from post-traumatic stress adapt at their own pace, through their own ways. They hate feeling pitied, and I have a feeling Will is starting to as well.”

Joyce turns the stove off and shakes her head at you. “You sound like Hop. I thought you hated the guy.”

“I don’t hate him,” you chuckle, now helping the woman peel off the foil and sprinkle some salt onto the popcorn. “He just reminds me too much of my dad, and we all know how that ends.”

“Well if you ask me, I think it’s because you two are so similar.”

You gasp. “How dare you!”

Joyce laughs and the seriousness from the previous conversation dissipates. Bob finds a clean bowl and together you and him pour the fresh popcorn in as Joyce prepares the drinks. They’re having a movie night together, and you want to cry because of how adorable it all is. Joyce deserves this.

“You know you’re welcome to join us tonight, Y/N. It’s Will’s turn to choose the movie.” Joyce tells you, but you politely decline.

“Normally I’d love to, but I should get going. I have some homework and I promised Dustin I’d bake him some Halloween treats.”

“Oh!” Bob turns to you. “Speaking of, you promised you’d give me that recipe of yours!”

You and Joyce share an amused look. “You caught me, I did. I’ll write it down right now and you have to swear that no one else will look at this. Deal?”

Bob nods, ecstatic, and you grab a piece of paper and quickly scribble down all the ingredients he’ll need and how to make the cookies. Joyce watches fondly, and you fill with warmth having pleased her. When you’re done, you hand the paper over to Bob and make him cross his heart, just to be extra sure he won’t reveal all your secrets.

“Scout’s honor!”

“Very good then, soldier.” You salute him, and then pull Joyce into a hug. “I really gotta go now. Can you tell Jonathan I said goodbye?”

“Of course, bike home safe, alright?”

You wink at her. “Scout’s honor.”

Bob lets out a loud cackle and you can’t believe that this guy is real, but Joyce is laughing along with him and you’re pleased she’s found someone as endearing and kind as him.

–

As soon as you get home you throw down your backpack and bunker down at the kitchen table. Your mom isn’t back from work yet and Dustin seems to be off somewhere doing god knows what, so it’s just you and Mews for now.

Mews plops herself on the table next to an essay you’ve been working on and you scratch her head as you work. You get lost in your writing, humming softly to yourself, enjoying this small moment of peace.

You won’t admit this to Jonathan, but he’s right. You’ve been overworking yourself, your body aches and your eyes droop with exhaustion almost every day now. But keeping yourself busy is what’s helping you stay afloat. The more you pile onto yourself, the less time you have to think about Steve and his stupid smile and stupid hair and stupid face.

In the middle of one of your sentences, Dustin flings the front door open and scares you. “Jesus, dude!”

He doesn’t spare you a glance, but when he sees Mews on the table with you he suddenly looks a bit alarmed. “Mews is here?”

“Yeah…? She’s helping me with this english essay.” You respond, confused.

“Huh,” Dustin thinks for a second, but seems to shrug it off. “Anyways, I’m home.”

“I can see that.”

“Are you gonna ask about my day?”

“How was your day, my dear brother.”

Dustin hops onto the table and shimmies his shoulders. “I met a girl.”

“What?” You drop your pencil in shock and Mews scatters, your exclaim having frightened her.

“Don’t act too surprised, geesh.” Your brother rolls his eyes, but then he frowns. “Actually, technically speaking I haven’t met her yet, but–”

“You have a crush?” You’re in shock. In your eyes, Dustin is still a baby, no older than six years old. And yet here is he, thirteen and talking to you about a girl.

“Yes, Y/N. Her name is Max, she has red hair and is new, and she’s totally awesome.”

Red hair? You remember seeing that girl in the parking lot earlier today. “Was she with that weird new guy, the one with a mullet?”

Dustin nods, so you poke him in the stomach and ooh at him. “I saw her this morning, she was prettyyyy.”

He shoves your finger away and blushes, which you find adorable. Dustin’s first ever crush, you can’t believe how old he is now.

“Yeah, she’s pretty, but she’s also just awesome. I think she’s the one with the new high score on Dig Dug.”

“Dig Dug?”

Your brother scoffs. “The arcade game the party always plays? Honestly, do you not listen when I tell you about my days?”

“Alright, fine. If you can remember what I told you I did yesterday, then I’ll apologize for not listening better.”

Dustin closes his mouth, unable to recall a thing.

“Mhm, that’s what I thought.” You flick his hat. “Anyways, since you officially like girls now, I’ve been dying to give you some girl advice.”

“Y/N–” Dustin groans, but you shush him.

“First things first, always be a gentleman. Max does indeed seem cool, but I’m sure she’d appreciate a nice and polite young man like yourself.”

Dustin nods. “Okay, be kind. Got it.”

“Good. Now secondly, we Hendersons are charming people, so just be yourself.”

“Duh,”

“Lastly, if she shows interest, tell her how you feel. Better you’re honest and true about how you feel rather than hide it and sulk.”

Dustin snorts. “Says you.”

You look away from him, slightly hurt. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“C’mon, Y/N. When are you gonna tell Jonathan you love him? I mean, everyone knows you do, it’s about time you confess.” Dustin drones on, unaware of your hurt feelings. “And he’s obviously in love with you, you guys are disgusting to be around–”

“He doesn’t love me back.” You whisper, looking down at your paper. You feel pathetic, confessing this to your little brother.

Dustin freezes, now realizing you’ve gone quiet. He can feel your mood darken and he feels like shit for not noticing it sooner. He’s upset you. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I thought he did, I mean the party and I all assumed…”

His words fade off, and you want to crawl into a hole and never come out. It’s embarrassing, you shouldn’t be pitied like this by your brother. “It’s okay, I know what you meant.”

“Y/N–”

You get up from the table and gather your things, shoving them into your backpack. “I’m gonna finish up this essay in my room, then I promise I’ll start baking those marshmallow puffs you like–”

Dustin jumps down from the table and blocks you from leaving the kitchen. “Jonathan is an ass–”

“Language–”

He doesn’t let you interrupt. “You’re cool, he’s stupid, and I’m here for you. Alright? Don’t make me pull a code blue on you.”

You wrap your brother into your arms, something he hadn’t been expecting, and allow yourself a small laugh. “No need for a code blue, I promise. Just, give me like an hour to sulk and then I’ll be as good as new. Okay?”

When you pull away, Dustin eyes you, but understands he won’t win this argument. The two of you handle your emotions the same way: alone, in solitude, away from prying eyes. He knows you just need some time to yourself, but he still feels like a jerk for upsetting you in the first place. “Fine, but if you’re sulking later I’ll flick your nose.”

You flick his nose and then quickly flee to your room, Dustin not far behind you. “Flicked you first!”

“Not fair!”

You slam your bedroom door and giggle as you lock it. Dustin bangs on the door, but you can hear the amusement in his voice. You tell him you’ll be out as soon as you’re done with your essay, and then go and sit down at your desk. Sighing, you dig into your bag and pull out what you need. Without meaning to, you look up and see your Spider-Man poster, your wonderful Christmas gift from Steve, hanging in front of you.

The small joy you’d been feeling vanishes.

The poster stares back at you, you can almost hear it calling you a pathetic coward, and you feel guilt claw at your throat. You close your eyes, remembering the cold from that winter day, and you can almost smell the cologne Steve had been wearing when you’d thrown yourself into his warmth. Sometimes, if you sit still enough, you think you can feel the ghost of his embrace.

You open your eyes.

Steve isn’t here.

Of course he isn’t here.

You exhale, feeling the familiar ache and exhaustion within you; junior year is looking quite grim.

-

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[porcelainseashore]

Teenage Headache Dreams (1)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: High School! College! Leon Kennedy x Dancer! Fem! Reader

Summary: You’re a bored, but ambitious high school student who can’t wait to escape small town life and make it in the big city. You thought you had it all figured out, until you unwittingly befriend the resident golden boy, Leon. A series of events beginning from junior year to college until Resident Evil 2 Remake.

Warnings: 18+ Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Eventual Smut, No (Y/N), Ambiguous/Open Ending

Content: High School AU, College AU, Pre-Resident Evil 2, Fluff, Romance, Cliche, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Lack of Communication

Author's Note: This is my first RE / Leon fic, but I wanted to try my hand at writing this little self-indulgent and potentially clichéd series. As you can guess, I love dance and high school dramas. I also created this with a sequel in mind, which will take place post-RE4R and involve more horror and mystery elements.

AO3 Link

Chapter 1: An Unexpected Friendship

It was one of those beautiful late summer days with endless light and clear blue skies overhead. You leaned back against the bleachers, feeling the sun cast a warm glow on your face and the sultry breeze against your skin, sighing in utter bliss. The football field and the running track surrounding it were completely empty, just how you liked it, silent except for the relentless trilling of insects and the occasional bird that flew by. No one in your face, no one judging you or telling you how you should be like, no one you had to put up a front for. Just peace and quiet. A place where you could sit alone with your thoughts - and you had a lot of them - mostly about leaving this goddamn small town with its insular, mind-numbing inhabitants.

A trail of thick smoke wafted from your mouth as you took a drag from the joint you had been nursing for awhile. You weren’t exactly high as a kite, but you were definitely feeling some of its effects. You chuckled and gave a wry smile as the thought of being caught red-handed visualized in your mind. Sure, it was highly illegal what you were doing, much less on school property, but you were always a bit of a rebel. And frankly, you couldn’t give a shit. It was already August, but most students were still away on holiday. Not you though, you had to work on your extracurriculars. That’s what you had put your mind to this summer. No fancy beach getaways like the rest of your cheerleading mates had jetted off to. Just a grueling dance intensive and showcase you had auditioned successfully for in one of the larger cities nearby, as well as a bunch of campus visits. You needed to perfect your performance technique for that arts college application coming up in about a year’s time. You started way earlier than the rest even thought about it, because you knew you only had one chance for a one-way ticket out of this hole and you sure as hell weren’t taking any chances. Well, except with that funky smelling thing in your hand. 

No one would be here anyway, it’s a Sunday for crying out loud! You shook your head in exasperation. Besides, you needed to relax and take the edge off a little.

Just as if you jinxed it with those thoughts, you heard the gate to the field unlocking and creaking open behind you. 

Shit, shit, shit! Your eyes darted around frantically, but your movements were just so slow. Why the fuck would someone be here now?

Before you could drop the joint and stub it out with your shoe, a mop of dirty blonde hair and what you made out as someone dressed in a blue tracksuit with a duffel bag slung over his right shoulder entered your peripheral vision. It was soon accompanied by a sharp twist of his head in your direction, bangs falling over his deep blue eyes and you knew he had found the source of the offending smell, probably even from a mile away. His gaze trailed their way from your startled face to your joint hanging limply at the edge of your fingers and then back to your face again. His expression turned from confusion to a frown and then into a knowing smirk as he crossed his arms and leaned against the bleachers.

“Oh, hello. Didn’t expect to see you here. You got cheer practice or something?”

God, he was teasing you. At least you hoped that was all it was and not some form of blackmail. Well, no point hiding now.

“I’m off-duty,” you retorted. You tried to jog your memory of the boy standing in front of you. You were social, or at least you had to be with the rest of your girlfriends to keep up appearances, but you never really bothered with the people here beyond superficial conversations. Then you finally found it - a vague recollection of last season’s track and field meet. He had been one of the better sprinters, maybe the best even, you can’t really remember. There was an afterparty, and you congratulated him, but you doubt there was anything more substantive than that.

“Leon, isn’t it?”

His eyes perked up slightly and he smiled. “In the flesh.”

You snorted at his cheesy reply. What was he pulling? 

“They gave you the key?” It almost sounded as if you were jealous.

He uncrossed his arms and placed his duffel bag on one of the benches in front of him, rummaging through its contents. “Yeah, I got a comp in the new term coming up.” Every now and then he glanced up at you, as if he wanted to ask something, but stopped himself.

A sense of boldness surged within you, as you felt like evening the odds a bit. “What? You want some?” You waved the joint in his face.

That certainly caught his attention. He stared for a good moment, before giving another one of his playful smiles and shaking his head. “Maybe after practice.” He unzipped his jacket and put it away. It was warm enough to train in his sports tank and as you admired the lean, muscular structure of his arms and shoulders now bared open, you couldn’t complain.

“So, how did you get in?”

Fuck. You snapped out of your reverie. He got you there, but you didn’t feel like lying. “Jumped the fence. You should try it some time.” You replied as nonchalantly as possible.

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” he laughed.

“Oh, you’d be surprised.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Will I now?” The way it rolled off his tongue felt like a challenge and you secretly enjoyed this banter going on between you, as if you had known each other for years.

Shrugging your shoulders, you took another hit from the joint and let the calmness envelope you. “I never disappoint.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Leon flashed a wide grin that made you feel a knot forming in your stomach, but you didn’t know why. 

He started to move towards the tracks, but stopped short, turning back to meet your eyes again. “Look, you don’t have to worry about all of that.” He gestured to what you were holding and the general surroundings. “I’m not going to tell.” With that, he made a sign that resembled crossing his heart. “It’ll be between you and me.” 

You would have thought it was a joke if not for the sincere look he gave you, before heading off to train. That, and the fact that he did indeed take up your offer to join you afterwards in sharing what was left of the joint. You didn’t expect someone like him to. He seemed a bit too much of a straight-laced, golden boy for that. But then again, life was filled with surprises and you quietly scolded yourself for playing into stereotypes again - something you despise others doing to you.

It prompted both of you to converse even more until the late evening where you even missed your dinner. The questions and responses just flowed.

It turned out that you would share a number of classes together in the new term, specifically Math, History and Biology. Leon was a real earful when it came to his “insightful” one-liners on the teachers, which made you bury your head in your hands and groan. You never realized he would be such a goofball, but you found it somewhat endearing.

Like you, he was popular at school, but unlike you, he seemed to enjoy the company and appeared to be an open book. He would say it how it is, sometimes to the point of being blunt to a fault. Still, you guessed people found him rather easy-going and likable, in a non-threatening sort of a way. A part you wondered if chance meetings like today were how he made most of his friends.

Leon didn’t really have a plan for college yet. He just knew he wanted to do something good and help other people. You had a word for it - “idealistic”. He just shrugged in response, eyes downcast, until you assured him that it was an admirable quality, and you were the jaded one. He made a toast to your future in some arts college in the big city with his water bottle, remarking with a hint of self-deprecation that he wished he had a clearer idea of what he wanted to do with his life.

In turn, he asked you about your dealer. You had to stifle a laugh at that one. Generally, you weren’t as big into smoking up as he thought, but this time you bummed it off one of the seniors as a favor he owed you for hooking him up with one of your cheerleader friends. It didn’t stop Leon from calling you the “high school’s little pothead” every now and then though. He peered at you intently with his lip curled in amusement, as you rolled your eyes each time.

It had been such a long time since you could joke and speak your mind with someone this way. There wasn’t that suffocating nausea of pretending to be someone else around him and he had been so relaxed with you too. You could finally breathe again, and you’d like to think it wasn’t just the weed talking.

Whatever it was, you guessed this was the beginning of a real friendship - one that happened out of serendipity, but made you feel like you weren’t going to rot away in this small town. Well, not alone anyway.

[digitaldiscipline]

Do I know anyone in the Atlanta-drivable region who can/would take in a trio (3) of adult cats?

Please reach out via DM, this may need to happen relatively quickly.

This is Jinx:

And this is Junior:

[ghosttotheparty]

part 1 // part 3 also on ao3

It seems to happen overnight.

King Steve and the Freak.

The students at school see them in the hallways, standing together and laughing, looking at each other with the stars in their eyes, and it doesn’t make any real sense. Steve with his pressed polos, tucked into his jeans, Eddie with his frizzy, overgrown curls and his metal chains and rings.

They talk. Exchange greetings in the hallways. And nobody knows when or how it happened.

They might be friends, but nobody says it. Like it might be a curse, a jinx. Like saying it out loud will change something that’s gone unspoken.

Steve snaps at Tommy Hagan when he refers to Eddie as a fucking freak. Eddie isn’t even around to hear it, but Steve looks angry in a way no one’s seen before, his cheeks red as he says, “I don’t give a fuck what you think he looks like, don’t fucking talk about him like that.” And it’s jarring, especially as Tommy H and Steve have been known best friends since sixth grade, and maybe because it’s so jarring, it works. Tommy H never talks badly about Eddie again (in front of Steve).

People see them talking in the parking lot before and after school, laughing and bantering before they part ways to go with their separate friend groups, all of whom stare and watch in confusion. None of them question it though, not when they just stare in response to the curious looks. The stares are almost scary, intense and daring. Firm What?s that deter anyone that wants to say something.

People see them at parties, disappearing behind doors to make deals, sitting in the kitchen and serving each other drinks before they go their separate ways.

Word spreads about them skipping detention together. Someone saw them leaning close together and writing on a piece of paper, laughing into their arms to keep quiet until Eddie noticed that the teacher had fallen asleep. Eddie had barely even hesitated before he got up to leave even though there was a little less than an hour left, and then he’d paused in the doorway, turning back to give Steve a look before Steve followed. And then people are concerned, because Eddie Munson is anything but a good influence.

But when Carol Perkins tries to talk to Steve about it, nothing hostile or anything, just a gentle question about if being friends with Munson is a good idea, Steve shuts her down with the same look he’s been giving everyone. But Carol is Carol, and she persists. She only stops when Steve says firmly, “You don’t know him, Carol. Just drop it.”

“I’m just saying, Steve, he is not a good influence—”

“And you guys are?”

And he’s met with a moment of silence as Tommy and Carol stare at him.

“Tommy gets through half his classes by paying other kids off for their homework and you’ve picked like three fights in the past week, Carol, don’t act like you’re some angel. Eddie’s just��” He shrugs, glancing away, across the cafeteria where Eddie is sitting with his legs up on the table even though he’s been scolded for it several times. “Eccentric. He’s harmless.”

“He’s a Satanist,” Tommy insists.

“I don’t think you know what Satanism is, Tommy.”

“I know what Satanism is—”

“Pass your history class by yourself and maybe I’ll give your word more credit, how ‘bout that?”

“Alright, asshole.”

Eddie graduates, and no one seems to see it coming except Steve, who goes to the ceremony. No one really questions it; underclassmen and juniors often go to graduations to support their friends, and Steve knows a few seniors this year. But then Steve is cheering louder than anyone when Edward Munson is called, and Eddie is beaming brighter than anyone’s ever seen, and as he crosses the stage he squints out into the crowd, smiling and smiling and smiling, and he waves. And it’s the most well-behaved he’s ever been, even as he begrudgingly shakes Principal Higgins’s hand and takes the diploma.

People stop talking about Steve and Eddie.

They still talk about Steve, of course, always the King. His parties, his hair. The shallow things. He doesn’t hang out as much with Tommy H and Carol anymore, but no one really knows why. Most people just assume Steve finally realized how shitty they are. And maybe he has.

Eddie doesn’t come up much anymore unless people are talking about where to get the best weed. People go to the mechanic that’s just outside town just to see him, to make deals while he’s on his lunch break or after he gets off work. (Which is funny just by itself: Eddie Munson with a job. Who would have thought?) But his reputation at school fades into someone that used to make shitty, loud jokes and talk shit about the popular crowd.

Until he shows up at Steve’s graduation. No one in Steve’s graduating class notices him until the end of the ceremony, when everyone is outside the theater the ceremony took place in, as everyone is taking pictures and laughing and smiling and celebrating, and Steve is just… waiting. He’s not talking to anyone, or taking pictures with anyone, and he and Tommy H seem to just ignore each other completely, but he doesn’t seem to be sulking or lonely. He’s leaning against the wall, holding his cap in his hands, eyes scanning the parking lot. Until a white van pulls up, a little close to the grass lawn outside the theater, and Eddie Munson steps out, his hair too long and loose and curly. He’s grinning as he looks around at everyone until his eyes catch on Steve, who’s beaming now.

And he’s running at him, and Eddie catches him in his arms, hugging him tightly as he spins him around, Steve’s graduation gown billowing in the air. Now people are looking, watching, seeing, some of the curious, some of them aghast, murmuring amongst themselves.

Is that… Eddie Munson?

Hugging Steve Harrington?

Are they friends?

Neither of them seems to notice everyone looking, laughing as they hug each other tightly, and when they part, Steve is beaming brightly at Eddie as Eddie touches his face, saying something quietly that no one can hear.

Steve nods excitedly, and Eddie takes his cap, bopping him on the head with it before they go to Eddie’s van. Steve strips the gown off, bunching it up in his hands and tossing it into the back as he climbs into the passenger seat. Eddie climbs into the driver’s seat and smacks Steve in the face with the cap, and Steve just laughs, glaring at him, snatching the cap and hitting him back before he tosses it in the back without looking. And they drive off.

Some people laugh because it’s so absurd. King Steve and the Freak. Most others just move on, too focussed on celebrating to care much.

That’s the last time anyone sees them or hears from them.

The Harringtons come back to Hawkins a few weeks later, and soon after, word spreads that Steve just left. Left Hawkins, left his parents, left his childhood home. He didn’t tell them where he went, just that he was safe. Not to worry. That he’ll be fine. He’ll be happy.

And slowly, across town, realization strikes each individual person that witnessed it happen: Steve and Eddie running away together. It explains the van, it explains the hug, the joy, the giddy excitement. And people talk about it.

King Steve and the Freak.

They ran away together.

And then

They skipped town.

They took off.

And then

They escaped.

Then the rumors aren’t as fun anymore. It’s not a fun bit of gossip or something to speculate about, but something to think about, to daydream about. What it would be like to leave Hawkins, to have no obligation to come back. That doesn’t happen in towns like this. People don’t just leave. People go to college. People come back. People get married to their high school sweetheart, and people have two and a half kids, and people get a dog or maybe a cat, and people stay here. That's what happens.

But Steve and Eddie left. That apparently wasn't the life for them. And it makes people wonder if it's the life for any of them. Some of them stay awake at night, looking up at their ceiling in the dark and wondering what's outside of Hawkins. What's in the big cities, what's in the seas. What isn't in the movies. Some of them look at the sky at night. Here in Hawkins, in the middle of nowhere, Indiana, every star glows brightly, like the universe is making up for the city lights they've never seen.

Some people are angry about it. How dare they leave? How dare they act like they’re better than Hawkins? Like this town isn’t enough for them?

Some don’t care. Hawkins is all they know. There’s no point in thinking about anything else, about dreaming about “escaping.”

And of course there are more rumors that spread alongside the runaway rumors. Why did they go together? Why did they hug like that? Why did Eddie touch his face like that? What are they doing?

And even as they all skirt around it, as they avoid certain words, because they would never want to taint the image of the King, they all know it.

They didn’t just run away together. They ran away together.

It angers some people even more. People who can’t think outside the limits of their own front lawn.

The rumors spread throughout town, just escaping the ears of Mr and Mrs Harrington (because nobody wants to anger them), through the high school to the middle school. King Steve and the Freak. They left together. And the rumors shift, mold like clay, altered by every mouth that touches them. They were holding hands. Eddie was touching his leg when they drove off. Steve kissed his cheek.

And the rumors find the ears of a young boy. A boy that sits alone in classes that his friends don’t share with him, fiddling with a pair of dice under his desk, hiding them so they don’t get confiscated, drawing in a notebook. A boy that tilts his head when he hears another boy’s voice say the words.

My brother said they ran away together.

Like… together, together?

I mean, he implied it. He said someone saw them holding hands.

What the fuck?

Followed by stifled laughter, because of course it’s the most absurd thing they’ve ever heard. But this boy, sitting in the back of the classroom, wearing his brother’s handed-down flannel and sketching his best friend’s eyes, looks out the window. At the sky.

The classroom he’s in is on the top floor of the main building, and he can see almost half of town from where he sits by the window. Just past town, there’s a road leading off into the world, and he wonders if that’s the road they took when they left. He wonders if the sun was setting when they left, if they followed it into the sky. He wonders if they held hands as they passed the LEAVING HAWKINS COME AGAIN SOON sign, if they kissed across the center console of the car. He wonders a lot of things.

He wonders if he could do it. Someday.

If he might leave the day he graduates, if he might get away from the children that call him fairy and fag, if he might escape the claustrophobic walls of the town, the square lawns and bullet-riddled tin cans, the brown and beige and grey. If he might get away from their voices. If he might escape too.

He sighs, listening to the boys’ laughter again. The sky is blue in between the grey clouds that are threatening rain over town. He follows the road with his eyes, follows it out of town, out of sight.

And he looks down at his desk, lifting a hand, and rolling the dice.

❧ buy me a coffee // check out my commissions ☙

[the-sum-of-many-poets]

salem

around sunset

the sow

leapt four feet in the air

gave one squeak & fell down dead

the farmer’s banjo arm

a cursed ear

clutched in his palm

& the perley’s sick cow

who went mad

ran into the pond & drowned itself

surely the raving tree

slave to the wind

spoke a proposition through the leaves

found a restless soul

obsequious & broken

& claimed it

this harlequin woman

jinxed the village with a strand of her hair

once

she even uttered a poem

conjuring sweet ambergris from plague

blame belongs with her

in the ground

in the crevice with elizabeth howe

the witch’s mark upon her

away from the sycamore & its wooing limbs

the trials of piously high anxieties

already the genius

draws a diagram for killing

ann putnam junior

her most aggressive accuser

laments

fourteen years later

walks the ruins of her own future

what could a twelve year old know of executions

the piss & shit of hangings

what furrows a child’s mind

ask the mother

ask the wasp in her mouth

feeding a puritan’s satan fetish

a small gnarly man they say

with cloven feet

approximately the height of a walking stick

first comes anger

followed by mischief

fools

he is the walking stick

& who will carefully

lovingly guide

the blind widow of elizabeth howe

©️david sichler

[smittyscurls]

Selfishly, I hope I’m wrong about the following:

I wasn’t initially going to say anything on this until later because I didn’t want to jinx anything. But it’s starting to add up that Will might not actually go back to bc 😭 and only time will tell now for this decision..

San Jose just won draft lottery so they’re gonna get celebrini and sign smith and be on their merry way 😫

Also, him playing at worlds is probably so that 

1) he gets a feel for nhl level competition - and for sjs to see him play in that environment and 

2) he also gets to wear the USA jersey one more time because if he signs they probably won’t loan him to USA for world juniors in December 😢 which I was really looking foward to watching him and the rest of the trio in :((

As for Ryan, I know he announced he was going back, but he could just pull a logan cooley 🤠 anything is possible

And for Gabe, well he was the most likely out of the three to stay because of the Rangers atm, but I have no idea anymore thank u for reading my rant have a nice day.

[docgold13]

Profiles in Villainy

Nimona

As mysterious as she is mischievous, the being known as Nimona is a powerful shapeshifter with a shadowy past.  Although she most frequently takes on the appearance of a young girl, Nimona’s true or original form remains unknown.  For reasons all her own, Nimona set out to be a junior villain and insisted on being the sidekick to the disgraced former knight, Ballister Blackheart.  

Through Nimona’s cajoling, Blackheart enacts a series of diabolical schemes as part of an effort to bring down The Institution (a governmental operation that rules the land).  Blackheart additionally finds himself aiding Nimona in fending off the attacks of his former partner, Ambrosius Goldenloin, who had been tasked with hunting and destroying Nimona.  

Various hi jinx ensue.  Blackheart and Ambrosius reconcile and the insidious machinations of the Institute are brought to light.  Nomina is seemingly destroyed, but actually survives and wanders off for further adventures content that the Institute has been taken down and Blackheart and Ambrosius have been reunited.  

Actress Chloë Grace Moretz voices the titular character in the 2023 animated film, Nimona.  

[tgammsideblog]

Compilation of theories/speculation i made during Tgamm series run (for sake of fandom history)

¨Scratch is a Wraith¨ theory Scratch’s Corruption theory megapost Hints to Scratch’s past in ¨All Shark No Bite¨ Hints to Scratch’s past in ¨The Many Lives of Scratch¨ (Scratch) Junior in ¨The Grand Gesture¨ Possible foreshadowing in ¨Game On¨ Jinx’s villain arc (Season 2) Was Geoff the mysterious ghost from Ruben’s flashback?

[lullabyes22-blog]

Regardless of the situation, can we agree that Silco’s child with either Mel or Sevika would be one of the most beautiful (and potentially dangerous) humans in Runeterra? Either woman’s darker complexion, tall stature and full mouth combined with Silco’s bladelike nose, lithe grace and keen mind. Begotten by Melco, their eyes would be a stunning turquoise; Silvika’s kid would have stormy blue-gray irises. Although honestly, I feel like the latter would make a better leader for Zaun since they’d likely have both Silco’s cunning/intellect in addition to Sevika’s pragmatism and streetwise instinct (although knowing those two, the kid would likely grow up to be an absolute sex fiend 😬).

Ohhhh - the kid would be an absolute scourge of nations, in terms of sheer ruthlessness or intellect.

I actually picture it as being a boy in Sevika's case (simply because the father's genetics determine the baby's gender, and Silco's family tree is all boys in FnF). The kid would be a Daddy's boy through and though, with Sevika being the more disciplinarian type - to the point the kid goes, "Yes, ma'am, no ma'am," whenever addressing her, and runs to the door to say hello and help with bags when she returns home, like a little soldier greeting their captain. Meanwhile with Silco, he'd be indulged and given lots of space to get up to all sorts of mischief, similar to how Silco himself did as a boy. They'd have a million inside jokes that Sevika wouldn't be up on, which would irritate her to no end.

"What is so goddamn FUNNY?"

Silco, with Junior on his knee, both of them poring at a storybook: "You wouldn't get it."

Sevika: >(

Ultimately, the boy would end up salving a lot of Silco's hurts re: Vander, and the privations of their boyhood. He'd grow up a Zaunite to the core: cool-tempered, sharp-spoken, and an absolute beast in a brawl.

Also dggds imagine if he went the other extreme and instead of a sex fiend, he'd have one childhood sweetheart whom he'd partner up with as an adult, and stay happily monogamous throughout his life.

Sevika: "...Really?"

Silco: "...I wonder where we went wrong?"

In Mel's case, I can picture it as a girl, and the demure replica of her mother, which gives Silco a big dose of heartache (and headache) whenever he looks at her, and has him treating her in a similar way to how he'd interact with Mel: almost wryly courteous, holding the door open for her and pulling out a chair for his 'little lady', and bantering with her about everything from global affairs to fashion. She'd be wickedly cultured by age eight, and critiquing high art and politics by age twelve.

I can also see her going a similar diplomatic route as Mel, and being quite literally a silver-tongued peacemaker for Runeterran conflicts (many of them triggered by her older sister, Jinx, oops >.>). She'd also have a fair bit of colonial guilt re: Piltover's legacy and Noxus' history of conquest, given Papa spent time reciting works of revolutionary poetry and working-class pride at her all the way from the cradle.

I can also see a similar Mel/Ambessa tension developing between her and Silco re: her lack of cutthroat ability when it comes to survival. Although unlike Ambessa it would drive Silco to be much more protective (re: interfering) in her daily affairs as opposed to banishing her for his own benefit.

Yay, let's pass on generational trauma in newer and more exciting ways<3

[savemysoulmyartsucks]

Season 7 Favourite quotes (as I watch it)

“It’s a blurry thing” “Great, now let’s get round up all the blues in Ninjago. This tells us nothing”

“Maybe time moves forward all the time?”

“No he wasn’t, remember all those school tours?” “EXACTLY! How boring were those?” “*softly* I kinda like those”

“Leftie, rightie, nice to me you. DO BETTER”

“What do we tell the hands of time? “Uhhh, moon in our eyes?” “Yes that could work”

“JAY THERE IS A SPEED LIMIT” “DAD MOM IS IN DANGER” “AND THERE ARE TIMES TO IGNORE IT”

“THIS IS WHY I WANTED MY PURSE, IT HAS A WATER BOTTLE IN IT. HYDRATION IS IMPORTAAANNNNTTTTT”

“Oh come on, you would have laughed if Jay said it” “Nya, you know we wouldn’t have”

“WHO *bonk* ARE *bonk YOU *bonk*” *silence* “Man, I was for sure that was going to work”

“This can’t get any worse” “you did not just say that. You jinxed us” “Oh, come on life doesn’t work like that” *cue enemy’s arrive* “not talkings”

“You know how mom’s are” “I won’t know, I never had one”

“I like you Junior” “Don’t call me that” “I really like this kid” “AND DON’T CALL ME KID” “OH, I know I like this kid”

“I can’t breathe. Let me go. Karlof please”

“Well since we are waiting, why don’t you tell us who you are Samuri 2.0” “No.” “What if I gave you a Tenner?” “No.” “Uhh, gum?” “No.” “Candy?” “No.” “Two pieces of candy?” “No.”

“I get it, that’s just rich people talk for it’s going to cost you”

“Oh man, I was really hoping to finally get my honeymoon”

“That sounds like a laxative. No wonder Kai was jealous”

“Sorry! There are so many buttons” *flashback to Chen*

“Dad? What are you doing here? You are only called the Royal Blacksmiths, you are not actually a blacksmith”

*middle of battle* “Hey kid, what’s your name?” “Johnny” “Well Johnny, here you go *protect him*” “Thanks Lloyd”

“Huh, I thought that only worked in cartoons”

[sea-buns]

Personally I don't think that tiktok Ally posted indicates that we're getting Fantasy High Junior Year. But I do believe I jinx myself constantly and if this happened to be one of those times I wouldn't be mad or surprised

[allycat75]

Let's talk a bit about anxiety, Boston Dumb Fuck.

(a bit of a long one, but I feel some things have been brought up in recent days that I thought should be addressed. Still think I am screaming into a void, but if this helps anyone struggling, it is worth it)

But more specifically, responsibility for ones own anxiety care. And before I start, I want to emphasize I have no doubt of your struggle. It is like being haunted and there are few places to hide. I can understand why your instinct was to shush it all away, but I think you can see now, that did little for your coping skills.

Anxiety doesn't go away by ignoring it, or worse, pawning it off on others. It requires planning, rehearsals and simple acknowledgement to be able to function in your day, doing as little harm to yourself and others. Some days will be better or worse, of course, mainly because anxiety does serve a physiological purpose- it helps us to recognize threats. Our job is to identify if those threats are real or not and to what degree can we mitigate either the threat itself or our response to it. The more we practice, the less we are held hostage by the "fight", "flight", "freeze" and "fawn" responses.

I would argue, BDF, what you have done with this PR stunt is set off a dirty bomb of anxiety, born out of your own fears that got you to agree to this ridiculous plan in the first place, and spread radioactively throughout your fandom. You poisoned the ones standing closest to it, the ones who supported you the most, and began by confounding what was real and what was fake. This, in turn, bloomed into self-doubt and warring factions, leading many of us to question what is true and false and honestly, which was worse. And do we care either way?

You manipulated situations, told half-truths and outright lies, not to telegraph to or protect your fans, but to selfishly create plausible deniability and legal CYA for yourself when this is over. It's like the type of obfuscation used by Aaron Rogers when he smugly blamed everyone for thinking he got the NFL required COVID vaccine, when all he said was he had "immunity", basically saying "I am sorry you were too stupid to interpret the exact words that came out of my mouth and not the spirit behind them."

We are considered collateral damage in a junior high drama produced by grown adults, that we were drafted into participating against our knowledge and permission. We are all a bit on edge, at least the ones who decided to stay to see how this all plays out, and it is kinda, sorta cruel to inflict that hurt on those who had your back at one point, when you know how painful this process can be.

Only looking out for yourself, but what is left to look out for at this point? You look sickly and broken. No real career prospects currently and seemingly no drive to find them. You have nothing to offer any decent woman. No discernible coping or decision making skills. No discernible skills at all, really. There are enough people already making great pottery and I think Jinx can sell dog food just fine without you.

And this is not even getting into how "marrying" that little prize of a wifey now normalizes racism, sexism, antisemitism, agism, xenophobia, fatshaming and pay-to-play vs actual talent and dedication to craft.

So if all of this gives you anxiety, it most definitely should, and know this is of your own making. But the best thing is, it can be of your own fixing as well. You can become the person with discernible skills of all types. You can get roles that match the talent you have hidden within you. You can be worthy of that soulmate Empress partner. You just need to get rid of the wrong people, get a hold of the right people and do the goddamn work, you privleged son of a bitch!

Just some things to contemplate as you come out of your dissociative state, realize you have an impact on the world around you and consider the amends you may need to make to repair the damage left behind.

Until you can get yourself to a trained professional (but please find one soon and start the hard work), hopefully some of these resources can be helpful:

For your family and friends: