#and also because i like hearing about what kind of hairstyles people like :D

[catmask]

actually, i did want to ask you all - a commonly shared sentiment about character creators in games or dressup games online is there's very frequently a lack of black hairstyles.

so it made me curious - what are some black hairstyles you wish would be included more in character creators/dressup games? or ones you get really happy to see are included?

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hey again Sex Witch!

Thank you so much for your help! I’m the gay guy from the other day whose ask re: sexual attraction you’d answered. You really got to the heart of the matter, and I truly appreciate that.

This might sound silly but… Are you sure it’s really not weird, gross or… otherwise wrong of me to just randomly initiate a conversation with someone in a bar like that? I’m sorry - even if the worst that could happen in theory is just a few awkward seconds, a part of me still thinks that an unsolicited “hey I like your necklace” Is too… forward. lol even if there’s a guy in a jockstrap gyrating two yards away.

Again, sorry for the weird asks. And thank you for all your help!!!

hello again, anon! I'm very glad to hear that I could tap into something resonant for you. doing this kind of work without being able to have a proper one-on-one convo means I sometimes I sometimes have to guess at exactly what the best advice for someone will be, but luckily I've been doing this long enough that I've gotten to be a pretty good guesser :)

I'm 100% certain that it's not weird, and certainly not gross, to approach someone that way, as long as what you're saying is appropriate for the context. for instance, I'd broadly advise against walking up to someone who's, say, sitting in a coffee shop minding their own business and opening with "you have a gorgeous mouth, I want to see my dick in it." there are absolutely people out there that it would work on, sure, but you shouldn't assume that, because the potential to guess wrong and become an instant sex pest are wayyyy too high.

but even that's not wrong in every setting! that guy gyrating in a jockstrap probably wouldn't mind someone being a bit sexually forward; indeed, there's a very good chance that he's doing what he's doing specifically to encourage that.

but there's also a HUGE world of other, much less risque ways to open up a conversation. let's talk about your example with a necklace, and complimenting details about someone's appearance in general:

"hey, I really like [aspect of person's appearance.]" many people (wisely) recommend sticking to things that people pick and have control over - for instance, makeup, piercings, jewelry, tattoos, hairstyles, and clothing, rather than focusing on specific facial features or body parts. there are also a lot of ways to take that one further if you want to go for a more substantial conversation, including the following:

"I like that tattoo/piercing, did you get that done around here?" or "I like that [article of clothing], where did you get it?" gives them the option to provide as much or as little information as they like, potentially tell personal stories you can respond to, etc.

alternatively, if there's an identifiable common interest in their outfit: "hey, is that [thing] a reference to [whatever]? I love [whatever]!" great, now you can talk about d&d/comics/a movie/a band/an anime/literally whatever for as long as you want as a way to get to know each other

or, alternatively: "hey, that looks really cool. is it from something?" again, gives them plenty of options about how much they want to respond, which you can play off accordingly, and honestly? letting people explain a thing to you can be VERY fun, not to mention people LOOOOOVE having an excuse to talk about shit they like.

also, hey, if someone is just wearing an outfit that's really fun overall? something that they clearly took effort putting together to look nice? man, they WANT you to compliment that. they want you to compliment that so bad.

"but Makenzie how do you know?" because I dress like a loud-ass fruit 7 days a week. and I'm not doing specifically because I want people to compliment me, duh, I'm doing it because it's fun, but it's nice when people say something kind about my outfit! it's nice to be noticed! the other day I wore a pair of bright pink overalls and a student passing by me stopped to say that seeing them made her happy because pink is her favorite color! that's a great interaction, nothing unpleasant about it! I've also recently dyed my hair a shade of yellow that can be best described as "highlighter," and a LOT of people have been stopping me wherever I go to let me know how much they like it. that's nice! feels good! I also wear a lot of huge earrings, especially when I'm working at events where I get to meet prospective students for the university where I work, because it gives nervous teenagers something easy to start a conversation with! they say "I like your lego mermaid Batman earrings" and I say "thank you, I wear them so gay people will talk to me!" and then they get to say "whoa, I'M gay!" and then we're off to the races.

obviously it's presumptuous to assume people are dressing to be alluring to you specifically, but there are also very few people in the world who will be upset at being told that their hair looks nice and their outfit is cool and you think their tattoos are awesome.

people are also generally pretty stoked to hear something like "you're a really good dancer!" or "that food/drink looks good, what did you order?" or "sorry, but did I hear you talking about x? I love x! what did you think of xyz?"

statistically most people love to think that they have good taste and hate being the one to make a first move, so if you do both of those things you're already off to a GREAT start.

also, another fun reminder: even if complimenting that necklace doesn't lead to a romantic or sexual connection every time, it does serve as good practice for talking to people and makes you someone who gives compliments easily - and hopefully someone who's good at receiving them back, because many people love to repay a compliment immediately in kind! and it's never bad to be known as somebody who's generous with saying nice things :)

just give it a try; I promise you'll like it once you see how warmly people can respond to even casual praise!

[sezja]

Hello o/

For your free time. Remember to always rest <3

Excuse me but more doubts about Sanaii:

Favorite hairstyles?

Most hated job?

Places she dislikes?

Any friends or other relationships? Who she trusts more? Anyone she goes to if she needs it?

What does she feels and thinks about her dads?

Cold weather or warm weather?

Is she too burdened by the Warrior of Light title?

Does she enjoys helping people?

Questline that most suits her (I’m thinking about class/job ones but you can choose another)?

Does she has favorite npc? Any type of thoughts or feelings about this canon character from admiration, respect, love of any kind, anything.

Favorite glamour set?

Any item she always has with herself?

Religious or not?

I will come back but enough for now :D

Favorite hairstyles: She likes to keep her hair long, but ties it back out of her face so it doesn't get in the way - she likes ponytails, buns, and other up-dos. It's a real shame the hairbuns... do what they do on miqo'te, because otherwise I think she'd love them.

Most hated job: She's tried and failed to get a handle on DoM jobs - for role quest purposes she's going to pick up RDM and SGE, neither of which she's particularly fond of. She likes X'rhun and Arya (she and Arya are great friends and maintain a steady correspondence), though, so she keeps making her best effort at RDM... even if the magical aspects baffle her and she'd rather just practice her swordsmanship.

Places she dislikes: Nowhere, really! She finds something to love everywhere she goes. It's part of why she decided to follow in Zephyr's footsteps and become an adventurer. If anything, Garlemald is grim and depressing so she hates going there - but she's very fond of Jullus, and she hopes to see something beautiful grow where the Empire fell.

Friends or other relationships: There's Arya, as mentioned above; they're pen pals. She also bonds with Alphinaud and Alisaie, finding it far easier to talk to them than anyone else in the Scions - especially Alisaie, who understands her frustration with politics and keeping up appearances. Sanaii tends to talk to Alisaie if she just needs to vent about something. They'll go talk it out over sweets, and if that doesn't work, they'll go fight something until the frustration's gone.

How does she feel about her dads: She loves them all dearly. She doesn't talk about them much, keeping them well away from the public eye and associating them with her as little as possible - she knows she has enemies, and those who would use her family against her if they could. She tries not to tell them too much about what she's up to after the events of ARR and 2.x, not wanting them to worry. They try, then, to follow her story as best they can by following gossip and news.

She knows, of course, that they aren't her blood family, but her first clear memory is of R'azit hauling her out from beneath the burning remains of a house, and R'enze cutting a path to safety. They will always be her fathers, as far as she's concerned.

She's particularly soft on Zephyr, who can't fight much on his own (he's an archer, but his skills lie more in hunting than on the battlefield; as an adventurer he has always relied more on his skills outside of combat). It's from Zephyr she's learned how to navigate social situations - and frankly, he's the only reason she can negotiate with the leaders of nations without embarrassing herself.

Cold weather or warm weather: She'd rather be warm than cold, but she'd rather be cold than hot.

The Warrior of Light title: At first, she thinks it's kind of fun, being a Warrior of Light like in the stories - she's proud of it, and likes to hear herself referred to in such a lofty way... but in time, as the weight of the title really starts to sink in, she finds herself quietly hating it as it consumes the rest of her identity. It is a burden, and one she can't set aside; it starts to feel like a leash, and the whole world has a grip on it. She alternates between being angry at Hydaelyn for choosing her, and anger at herself for not wanting that burden, which someone has to carry. She learns to carry the title - and its weight - with a little more grace over time.

Does she enjoy helping people: Yes! Very much so. It was what appealed to her about Zephyr's particular style of adventuring - stopping to help anyone who had need of an adventurer's aid, whatever it might be. No matter how big or small the task. No matter how grand or how meager the reward. He taught her that the purpose of an adventurer isn't just to see the world, but to leave it a better place than you found it, even if it's just improving one person's day in some small way. She doesn't always seem like the type, but she does love helping out, and feeling helpful.

Questline that most suits her: I can't remember the names of any of the NPCs involved off the top of my head, but the questline in Shadowbringers, in Lakeland, where you're sort of helping a hume girl follow in the footsteps of her father, a healer? That one.

Favorite NPC: Oh man, it's hard to say if she has a favorite. I don't presently romantically ship her with anyone, so the possibilities are endless here - she can find something to love in most people.

I feel like she's very partial to Jehantel, seeing something in his gentle melancholy that pulls at her. I'm not sure she'd have agreed to go along with Sanson and Guydelot after their bickering at the start, if Jehantel hadn't asked it of her. (She warms to them, of course, but neither of them really put their best foot forward, and she's very grumpy about being asked to go along with them - and they're not thrilled at the prospect of a sullen teenager attending their quest, either.)

Favorite glamour sets: I don't know yet! She likes comfy, pretty things. I still need to get a feel for her sense of style.

Items she carries with herself: She secretly still carries the fox plush she carried with her when her dads rescued her; it's buried deep in her pack. She only pulls it out when she needs extra comforting.

Religious or not: Mildly. Agnostic, mostly. As R'azit puts it, "I only speak to the gods when I'm angry at them." She believes there's a force that controls the world and its fate, but she's not sure it's the Twelve. She's quiet about that, though.

Obviously, she knows Hydaelyn exists, but sees Her as more of a partner than a god.

[royalty-subway-headcanons]

Plz,,, scenario where reader is sent to Hisui instead of Ingo. And then they come back (maybe missing some memories?)

Oof. Not gonna lie, but I kinda wanted to do something like this for a while-

Like, where the s/o just time-traveled to Hisui and came back. Just to see how the twins would react.

Now I have an excuse to do it. :D

I decided to write for all the twins. Since I couldn’t tell if you just wanted Ingo or all of them-

Also, this is angsty. Not the most angsty thing I wrote. It has at least a bittersweet ending, so nothing too serious to leave a warning.

Sordward

I mean, while you disappeared, he probably didn’t notice the first few days. But as soon as he tried to contact you, either by text or by visiting your house, he got more concerned. He desperately tried to find you, but you were nowhere to be found.

But he assumes that wherever you are, surely you can take care of yourself. More so if you're the champion of the Galar region. So no need to fear. I mean, he’s still scared shitless, but he tries not to show it much by failing and showing it by begging people to find you and crying himself to sleep.

His and your Pokemons are probably the only reason why he isn’t as panicky about it because they gave him comfort of some kind (or maybe it made him more panicky since you could be in the wild area with zero Pokemon on your side, but maybe you got help from someone or received some Pokeballs).

He just sort of waited until something happened, whether you or someone found you or you just came back around suddenly. While keeping himself a bit isolated without even realizing it. His worries just kept him busy.

That was until you showed up again, at complete random. At first, he probably took you as someone that’s… poverty-stricken; based on your appearance. But looking at your face confirms that it was actually you. You just look like you survived hell and came back. Which definitely struck something within him; maybe fear or relief that you were okay?

He’ll just semi-scream your name to get your attention and ask "WHAT IN THE BLOODY FRESH HELL HAPPENED TO YOU?!" He tries his best to avoid physical contact, and yet, he needs to confirm if this was real or fake so he probably ends up grabbing both of your arms/shoulders for that confirmation (and perhaps to comfort you in a way).

But perhaps this action made you uncomfortable, since this peepee hairstyle motherfucker you just met was touching your arms/shoulders. Who wouldn’t freak out at that moment? So if you push him away, he’ll do the same thing out of instinct.

And now he’s confused. Are you… The same person he was thinking about? Or just a random bystander that looks like his s/o? That would be extremely awkward if that’s the case. But eh, you’re now stating that you have zero memory of anything, so that explains a lot.

Which, yes, it does surprise and pains him to hear. And he sort of blamed himself for everything. Maybe if he saved you sooner, perhaps you’d still have your memories. Eh, too late now. But he’ll just try to explain everything, that you were his friend/partner, and you both did a lot of things together. He’ll try his best to return your memories as time goes on, but at least you’re back now, which conceals his worries… With zero memory, which still makes him sad.

Shielbert

He probably noticed by day one that you've gone missing. And he desperately tries to find you, even getting his older brother involved, but nothing comes out. The only things he could find were your stuff; like your clothes and your Pokemons.

With that being said, he’ll probably end up wearing any of your jackets or hoodies, either in private or in public (even if they don’t typically have the red accent he used to wear, it’s a bit of a bizarre thought and sight, but it doesn’t matter to him, it's just to remember you).

He sort of cut nearly all human interaction as well, besides from his older brother and from his/your Pokemons (yes, he’s taking care of your Pokemons). Not complete isolation, he does go out in public, but he doesn’t talk much.

This probably goes to a point where he has nightmares about you dying. It makes him think that you actually died, or maybe you did? Who fucking knows, you’ve been gone for years. If you’ve been kidnapped, then surely you’re gone at this rate. He doesn’t even know what’s real or fake anymore and these thoughts upset him deeply.

Well, until you came back out of nowhere. The first thing he saw was either your face or your torn clothes. And he somewhat hesitates to get near you because of those dreams he’s been having. This could simply be another dream or another hallucination.

But shrugging that off, he’ll run up to you while screaming your name and crying, and hug you pretty tightly. Of course, you’re confused because this stranger somehow knew your name and is currently hugging you… Maybe he knows you? Perhaps he’s familiar to you.

And then he’ll probably drag you into his house to give you warm and proper clothes (since your clothes are very messy and you’re probably freezing cold). Until he sort of noticed your behavior… Aren’t you happy to see him? Why are you pretending like you don’t even know him? Are you okay?

That’s kinda when you explained to him that you have no memory of anything. Which genuinely made him flinch and have a very painful expression. And he nearly cried again. But he’ll apologize for his behavior (since surely you’d call the cops if this was an actual stranger to you) and he’ll try to explain himself, stating that he’s your friend/partner. That you’ve been gone for years and he did nothing but sorrow over your disappearance. And that he was just so overjoyed with you coming back.

He seems genuine when he says this. And knowing this, he’ll take everything slower now since that’s kinda what someone with amnesia needs. Yes, it hurts him knowing that you’ll perhaps never get your memory back. But at least you’re here again. And yes, he’ll give you all of your stuff back in hopes that’ll jog your memory- (he’ll give whatever he has to get your memories back)

Emmet

… I mean, you probably expect him to cry or be in extreme distress because you just suddenly disappeared (since that would’ve happened if Ingo disappeared). I suppose in a way, you’re kinda right. And yet, it’s not the full truth.

Like, here’s the thing, he doesn’t feel anything. Not applying that he doesn’t give a damn about you, more like, he’s feeling empty; emotionless… And yet, this feeling isn’t exactly new to him. As if he knew this feeling for his entire life, but wasn’t aware of it until it’s brought up.

This feeling… makes him sad and pissed at himself. And yet he’s not? He doesn’t know how to feel about the emptiness, but he doesn’t like it and he’s crying. Yes, he’s distraught about you disappearing, but maybe he’ll show more of his sad side if it was Ingo (look, Ingo is his brother and he means a lot to him, give him some slack, he’ll still feel empty if it was Ingo instead of you)

And despite the fact that he tries his best to live on with his life (making it seem like he can handle himself alone with no help). He needs moral support from literally anyone, either from Ingo or Sordward himself, anyone. Just as long as someone can support him and stop him from doing something… He’ll regret.

Oh, and it’s a bit difficult to determine whenever he noticed you being gone. It depends on how many times you visit him. He would try to find you, but he couldn’t find you anywhere and he hopes that you’ll come back at some point. The longer he waits, the more it damages him.

Even with you coming back doesn’t exactly make him feel anything (or at least the first few seconds, he’ll wince more than anything and continue with his day). Since this could simply be another hallucination or dream he’s been getting, you could be another fake like the rest of them. So unless someone says “IT’S REALLY THEM-” to him, he’s not exactly buying it at first glance.

His reaction would depend, he could either simply stand there and do nothing, walk up to you and apologize (he thinks it was his fault that you left), or walk up to you and hug you (just for confirmation that it’s actually you).

… And then you’ll probably ask who the fuck he is since you don’t even know this white man. Which is where you’ll probably see him actually reacting or showing a genuinely shocked expression of loss of hope again. But he still tries to put a brave face on and admit that he’s your friend/partner, until you just disappeared from existence.

He doesn’t really know what to do. He’ll probably cry a bit or something. Of course, he’ll try his best to give you your memories back. But he still doesn’t know how to do it. I assume the best he can do is stay around you to form some sort of friendship with you again. But hey, you being here is better than you not being here.

Ingo

So if we're talking about Ingo never appearing in the Hisui region. He’d never know of the existence of it. So you disappearing instead of him would be a concern to him, since he doesn’t even know where you are or would even know about Hisui.

He probably didn’t expect anything until a few days or weeks later. Depending how many times you visit him. He probably thought you were just busy, though. Until like, 1 month pass or something. He’ll probably become more worried about you.

He would try to find you, but there’s nothing much he can do. He’s not a detective or any of that sort. The best he can do is to look for clues about where you went. And he found fuck all besides your Pokemons. Which didn’t help him since even they didn’t know what happened to you.

So the most he can do is take care of your Pokemons while you're gone somewhere. Yes, he’s worried about you. But even he knows that he can’t do anything. He’s hopeless unless he finds something that will lead to your disappearance… Where were you?

… That was until you came back, just randomly appearing in the subway somewhere. He flinched at that. He couldn’t really believe it since he thought this was some sort of trap or prank set by someone. Or if it was a dream. Plus, you… Appeared in a worse state; like, you seem confused about your surroundings with messy clothes.

So it probably wouldn’t be much of a surprise if he thought you were someone else at first, until he had a good look at you. You looked… Exactly like them, even the same name, voice, height and all. Until he realizes that it is truly you, he’s pretty overjoyed about it (on the inside, he doesn’t express it as much as he wanted to).

However… You don’t seem to remember anything. Not even him. Which definitely caught his attention. It seems like you lost your memory (or some of it). You don’t even recall meeting him, ever. Which did hurt him to hear, made him cry a little.

But he’ll try his best to give you context in the most blunt way possible, he was either your friend/partner (he’ll most likely say “friend” because saying you're the partner of someone that has zero memory of you doesn’t seem like a good idea). And that you’ve been gone for a really long time. Whether you believe him or not would depend, but he’s telling the truth. And he doesn’t mind taking it slow if you’re willing to give him a chance.

He gives you back your Pokemons and tries his best to gain your memories back, whether it works or not. He at least tried his best. He’ll still be by your side, even if you guys were partners once but currently friends due to this circumstance. It doesn’t matter to him since you’re finally back now.

[harusaki-hugo]

Hiii! I would like to request a Emma sano x female or gender neutral reader where the reader is 16 and Emma went all out with the help of Hina and her brother Mikey and some other people, like rose petals, flowers and stuff like that and confessed to the reader and the reader feels the same way but turns down her because she’s too old for her since Emma is 13 in the past and it gets all angsty in the beginning but when they get older they meet and and date then get married and the ending gets really fluffy maybe they can have children as well. I hope you understand and take as much time as you need there’s no rush!

Warning: Grammatical error

Character: Sano Emma

Anime: Tokyo revengers

AU/Original: Au

Genre: Angst to fluff

Extra: Female x female

Note: My first Tokyo revengers request. I still catching up with the manga so sorry if I didn't get Emma's personality correctly. I might have overdone this...

Waiting.

Sano Emma x Female! Reader.

" Don't you think this too much?" Takemichi sweat drop, early this morning he got a message from his girlfriend that she want to meet him at a park when he arrives he sees something unexpected.

Rose flower petals covered the ground, a balloon with the word "I love you" and even an unlit candle being placed in half circle. He then sees his girlfriend Hina along with his other friends.

Mikey is trying to wolf down a box of chocolate while Draken tries to stop him. Mitsuya is smiling happily, in front of the silver-lilac boy is Emma, she is wearing a beautiful dress, blushing slightly at what Hina said.

" What do you mean too much? Confession to [ name ] must be perfect!!" Emma glared at the boy making him raise his hands in defensive. " [ Name ] - senpai?" Takemichi remembers who that is, the first-year student of Shinjuku Academy. A gentle girl who has always been seen together with Emma and Hina.

He will not judge someone but on his mind, he did think that ' Aren't she too old for Emma ?' Yet the look on the younger girl makes him zip his mouth shut.

Night coming fast, you who just got a message from Draken ask you to come to the park quickly rush there. The boy did say it is important for you to come there fast. Panting slightly, you enter the park, looking around for the tall male.

Your eyes widen a bit when you see not Drake but Emma wearing a dress with your favorite color, hairstyle neatly, and on her hands are a bouquet of rose flowers. " Emma?" You are a bit confused by this, walking towards the girl you see her smile widen.

She then gives you the bouquet which you take with a bit of hesitance, "What the meaning of all this?" You ask awkwardly, Emma's face turning pink, she plays with a strand of her hair, gathering the courage.

Emma takes your free hand startling you a bit, looking at her you see she is serious, " [ Name ], I know this is weird for a girl to like a girl but I don't care. You are a beautiful, kind, gentle, and the most amazing girl I ever know. I don't want anyone to take you away from me that why, will you be my girlfriend?" She confessed.

You lick your dry lips, looking anywhere except for the girl, " E-Emma..that speech is beautiful.." Your word makes her beam at you but soon it falls when she sees your apologetic face.

"But I can't... I'm sixteen..you thirteen... You are too young for me. I don't think this relationship will work." With a heavy heart, you let her hand go, " I only see you as my...." You bit your lips, swallowing down the regret, "My sister... I'm sorry.." You smile bitterly at her before you walk away.

Emma stares at your fading figure disappear completely, one by one her tears slide down her cheeks. "Emma.." Mikey approaches his sister, he gently places his hand on the girl's shoulder and that is the last straw, Emma falls on her knee crying out her pain.

Hina quickly wraps the girl in her embrace, comforting the girl. Takemichi knows this will happen but he knows something else, looking towards the way you disappear he knows you feel the same pain.

You too like the younger Sano but it is the age that prevents you guy's love. Emma is still young and you are too old for her, if you two get together what will society say? What will the other say? It's okay if they talk about you buy you don't want anyone to talk bad about Emma.

Love is beautiful yet it is cruel .

Twelve years have passed, you now are [ dream job ]. It's been a long time since you see any of your friends especially the Sano family. There is no way you can meet any of them after rejecting Emma. To this day, you regret your decision but that is what for the best. " [ Name ]- senpai?!" You hear a familiar voice turning around you see a beautiful blond woman looking at you with wide eyes.

You stare at her trying to remember who she is, your eyes widen when you recognize the female, "Emma?!" She smiles happily when you remember her, approaches you, she gives you a smile that you miss. " How are you? Isn't been twelve years." You nod your head rubbing the back of your neck.

"Yes, I'm doing great." Looking away, you try to hide the heat rising to your cheeks, " You grown-up beautiful..." Emma blink a few times before her face turn red, " Y-you too! You look really beautiful.." This is getting awkward, bitting your lips, you let out a heavy sigh.

"Emma ... About what happens that day.." She stops you before you can continue smiling a bit forcefully, "No, it's okay!! I understand, I understand why you reject me." She tries to put on a cheerful face, looking around, " Are you with your partner?"

You shake your head frowning, " No...I don't have a partner..how bout you?" She too shake her head, you let out a small 'ooh'. Seeing Emma for the first time in twelve years, she has grown into a beautiful woman, this makes your heart beating faster. If she still hasn't had any boyfriend or girlfriend, maybe just maybe, you can finally make a move? After all, you two have already grown into adults, if you two get into a relationship, no one will judge you two, except for homophobic but screw them.

Gathering your courage, you take Emma's hands, she looks shocked by this, shyly looking at your eyes, " Emma, d-do you want to go on a date with me?" You shut your eyes tightly, waiting for any rejection but you feel her squeezing your hands.

"I-i love too.." You two smile brightly, face turning pink .

One date turning to a hundred. All of your friends supporting your relationship, though Mikey kinda threatening you earning a slap of the head by his sister. Two years you guys having a relationship, you two decide to take a further step.

Wearing a dress wedding make by Mitsuya, both of you hold back the tear threatening to fall. You smile at the woman of your life, she looks absolutely beautiful, Emma stares at you in the eyes, she too thinks you look beautiful in that dress.

"Welcome! We are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the marriage of [ last name] [ name ] and Sano Emma. This is not the beginning, but a celebration of the next chapter in their lives together. Today, they will affirm this bond formally and publicly. This affirmation is made even more meaningful because it’s shared with all of you, their most cherished friends and family.[ Name ] and Emma, today you not only marry the right person, but you also commit to being the right partner—the one with whom the other can stand and face the world. It’s time to joyfully seal this chapter with the declarations that will unite you in marriage."

"Do you [ last name ] [ name ] take Sano Emma to be your lawfully wedded partner, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and not-so-good times, for richer or poorer, committing yourself unto them for as long as you both shall live?"

You nod your head, " I do." You say with a voice full of love, eyes not taking off from Emma, the priest then looks at Emma.

"Do you Sano Emma take [ last name ] [ name ] to be your lawfully wedded partner, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and not so good times, for richer or poorer, committing yourself unto them for as long as you both shall live?"

She nods her head, " I do." She answers confidently.

" You may now kiss the bride." You softly kiss the female, pouring all of your love into the kiss as you hear all of the former tomans and your friends cheer for you two.

That what happens three years ago, you look at the pictures of your guy's wedding with loving eyes, "Mama looks so beautiful, right?" You look at your adopted son, to see him already sleeping. You giggle and kiss the top of his head, "Sleep well shin.." You muttered.

Emma wraps her arms around you looking at the boy "Oh, he already asleep?" She then presses a kiss on your cheek. " Hey there darling, how's dinner with Hina?" You ask her, she nuzzles against your neck sighing tiredly, "Eh, it's was great until Takemichi decide to crash our dinner with Chifuyu." You laugh, caressing her cheek, you softly say, " I love you.." Emma's face turns red, hiding her face at the crock of your neck she too with a loving voice says, " I love you too.."

[lovely-dr-imagines]

Makoto, Leon, Nagito, and Byakuya with an S/O who is obsessed with playing with their hair:

✾ Hello my lovely! Thank you for the request! I’ll try my best on it! :D ✾

✾ Under the Cut! ✾

✾ ahem, just noticed I have no other happy icons for me other than the one holding the camera or the blushing mahiru... 0-0 oh well im lazy so qjiwshudf guess whos not gonna make new ones bc i like the ones i already made :D? Plus I think I have another happy one hidden somewhere in my camera roll ijdfhygf ✾

✾ Makoto Naegi: 

✎ He didn’t notice it at first. 

✎ Yeah I know, that’s stupid, but he really didn’t notice- 

✎ That was until you started twirling his ahoge- 

✎ His face blushed up and he turned around to see you, who looked surprised and taken aback- (AHOGES GUYS, THEY ARE SENSITIVE (opinion))

✎ “...” 

✎ “Sorry...?” 

✎ Overtime the Makoto became more comfortable to your little massages and hair playing. 

✎ One time, you made a tiny braid from his hair like Kyoko’s!

✎ However, again, he doesn’t notice until he walks to go somewhere and someone points out his hair or if he can see his reflection- 

✎ AND NEITHER DO YOU-

✎ Huh?

✎ Yeah you heard me correctly ya know- 

✎ You’ll somehow go to him and started playing with his brown hair. 

✎ Both of you become surprised- 

✎ ANYWAYS- 

✎ He really likes your scalp massages- 

✎ Seriously, like any normal person, he loves it- 

✎ It feels GOOD- 

✎ One day, after your signature message of his scalp, his hair somehow grew-

✎ And he didn’t want to get a haircut- 

✎ Because he knew you would like more hair to play with <3

✎ When the two of you cuddle or even something small like hugging, you twirl his hair around your finger if you can. 

✎ He finds you playing with his hair calming and soothing. 

✎ This egg fell asleep once when you were playing with his hair... 

✎ And literally 10 minutes later, his head dropped to the right unexpectedly (you were watching TV) and your fingers got tangled- 

✎ You have no idea why- 

✎ But I guess he can get that haircut now-

✾ Kiyotaka Ishimaru: 

✎ Unlike Makoto, this stiff man took notice immediately. 

✎ “Y/N? What are you dong?” 

✎ That sure startled you- 

✎ You started prodding at your fingers, trying to think up an answer... 

✎ “Do you find comfort playing with my hair?” 

✎ Wow he got a bulls eye- 

✎ Playing with hair is a common thing for people to do when nervous or anxious (i know from experience, but now that turned into playing with whatever is on my wrist at the moment-)

✎ “Y-yeah...” You answered weakly. 

✎ “THAT’S ABSOLUTELY FINE Y/N! YOU CAN KEEP DOING SO IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER!”

✎ That’s your Taka <3

✎ Although his hair is short, it feels nice to scale your fingers across his hair back and forth, creating a nice sensation against your skin. 

✎ Surprisingly, his hair, being naturally spiky, is actually pretty soft-

✎ He doesn’t mind whenever you touch his hair, he finds it pretty relaxing too. 

✎ Your scalp massages?? He LOVES them. Seriously. 

✎ You think being a hall monitor is EASY? Taka has to deal with bullies and delinquents skipping classes and argues with people who are even just a minute later for class... 

✎ So you can imagine how much stress in on him. 

✎ Maybe he’ll consider growing his hair out for you... 

✎ Or maybe not...

✎ OH GOD THE THOUGHT OF TAKA WITH LONG HAIR KIND OF SCARES ME-

✎ WHY DID I THINK THIS UP I DONT LIKE THAT IDEA, LET ME PERISH THE THOUGHT-

✎ Nah, I think he likes his hair short, no? 

✎ Yeah, just ruffling his short hair is good enough... 

✎ Good enough for him to start developing a habit of playing with your hair when the two of you cuddle, hug, or are juts generally near each other. 

✎ It doesn’t bother either of you- 

✎ Any why would it? 

✎ Both of you enjoy it so what’s the harm? 

✎ If you are waiting for me to say the harm, there really isn’t any-

✾ Leon Kuwata: 

✎ He probably played with your hair first. 

✎ Then you did the same thing- 

✎ Both of you guys couldn’t help it- 

✎ Both of yous have the same thing- 

✎ Leon probably plays with hair when he’s distressed or frustrated, like if he failed an assignment or couldn’t find the confidence to make a band for the first time so he can actually be related to music for the first time. 

✎ You probably play with hair when you are nervous. 

✎ When the two of you started dating, you sat next to each other and started talking about random stuff when Leon unconsciously started playing with your hair- 

✎ That’s how you figured out he was like you- 

✎ Ish?

✎ Idk- 

✎ But he was nervous and/or frustrated at himself for being called a wuss before this little date. 

✎ Now, both of you don’t mind playing with each other’s hair. Like Taka’s headcanons, whenever you and Leon cuddle, hug, or just in near proximity to each other, hair twirling and other doodads will commence- 

✎ Scalp massages don’t really help Leon, but he enjoys them nonetheless. He’ll ask for them if he feels really down or stressed. 

✎ He’ll also give YOU scalp massages if you want them. However, you obviously like playing with his hair better-

✎ Once, Leon jokingly said that he would cut his hair if he find one more tangle in his locks- 

✎ You took it quite seriously though- 

✎ And no tangles would be found the next day, or the next, or the day after that. 

✎ His hair has been conditioned by you 0-0 

✎ HOW YOU DID IT?  

✎ You will play with his hair if it’s the last thing you do. 

✎ The time where both of you play with each other’s hair the most is during studies or homework. 

✎ Both of you would go sit next to another and go focus on your own assignments. 

✎ and the two of yous would eventually go to sleep... 

✎ On each other... 

✎ Hand on each other’s head, entwining the hair in between your fingers. 

✎ When the two of you wake up... 

✎ His hand isn’t tangled in your hair... 

✎ BUT YOUR HAND IS STUCK IN HIS HAIR- 

✎ “I guess we have to cut my hair-”

✎ you started crying immediately- 

✎ LEON FIX THEM-

✾ Nagito Komeada: 

✎ When you first reached for his head, he instinctively spun his head around to face you- 

✎ “S/O? What are you doing? Don’t tell me you were planning on breaking my neck so trash like me won’t exist anymore! Actually, I wouldn’t mind if that’s what you were going to do!” he chuckled with an innocent smile, “But could you tell me what you were planning to do with my head?” 

✎ Well- 

✎ That scared you- 

✎ he has some good reflexes to hear you go up to him- 

✎  but this has got you flustered- 

✎ “U-Uhm... I was gonna play with your hair? It looks fluffy,” you mumbled, though Nagito heard you. 

✎ “Oh... If that’s the problem, I don’t mind. Mess up my hair and do whatever with it! I doubt you would like my hair though!” he giggled again, same low-self esteem as ever <3

✎ As you touched his hair, it was exactly what you expected. 

✎ It was soft and surprisingly silky. 

✎ Since his hair is long you make some pretty nice hairstyles. 

✎ Braids are a must for this man’s hair. 

✎ Not even to mention simple styles, like a ponytail (TOTALLY A REFERENCE TO THE 10TH ANNIVERSARY PICTURE, ABSOLUTELY, I NEED TO MENTION THIS, I CAN’T GET OVER HIS HAIRRR) 

✎ Unlike what the other boys did, Nagito does not play with your hair, no matter how tempting. 

✎ His hands do not deserve to touch your hair- 

✎ Though he may have played with it once... 

✎ Okay maybe twice- 

✎ Though, it was only twice... and on accident- 

✎ His luck did it- 

✎ He swears that it wasn’t him and his own free will- 

✎ It was his luck- 

✎ I mean, he was walking, tripped onto you, and his hand managed to run through your hair-

✎ And then it happened again a few days after- 

✎ Those were the only times- 

✎ Your scalp massages are... difficult- 

✎ Why you may ask? 

✎ His hair is too long- 

✎ And whenever you go into his hair, it somehow gets tangled with you hand. 

✎ I don’t make the rules for his hair- 

✎ It just gets tangled easily- 

✎ But you don’t ever want him to cut it-

✎ Like, ever- 

✎ You’ll manage- 

✎ But, uh oh, another Makoto scenario happens and WHOOPS now he had to get a haircut-

✎ Nagito isn’t happy about it either, just know that- 

✎ He isn’t happy about it because it brought you despair, c’mon now-

✎ He’ll cuddle your though after so you feel better though :D

✎ So... 

✎ Not a total loss :D

✾ Byakuya Togami: 

✎ Honestly, you guys were on national T.V. 

✎ Seriously. You guys were literally on T.V. because of the news anchors rampaging into Hope’s Peak once. 

✎ It was an unlucky day for Byakuya-

✎ His hair was... Not cooperating with him that day.

✎ Not like you cared- 

✎ Okay maybe a little bit- 

✎ ...

✎ It got on your nerves- 

✎ So you literally sat up, got in front of him, not being subtle about it whatsoever, and you said, “Let me fix your hair.”

✎ Nothing else was said. He just... nodded and closed his eyes. 

✎ Granting you this permission, you started stroking his hair and trying to fix it. Taking off his glasses and ruffling his blonde locks a little, you started fixing it. 

✎ Then a bunch of men and women broke down the door- 

✎ You were not expecting that. You flinched and knocked your forehead against Byakuya’s- 

✎ “OW! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?” Byakuya shouted, obviously oblivious to the multiple cameras on the other side of the room. 

✎ “S-Sorry!” You yelled, backing away from him in a rush, though your couldn’t get far. 

✎ Yes, again- 

✎ Your hands were stuck in his hair. 

✎ Great- 

✎ As Sakura, Aoi, Makoto, and many others such as Leon told the people to get out, you were struggling on how to get your hands out of his lovely golden hair... 

✎ Not as bad now... 

✎ “What are you doing?” He asked, a bit of embarrassment on his face. 

✎ Unconsciously you started giving his head a massage- 

✎ WhOoPs- 

✎ “Oh! Sorry again, I’ll stop-” 

✎ “N-no no... Keep going...” He closed his eyes again as your fingers ran through his hair and pushed against his scalp. 

✎ Would you believe me if I said you two weren’t dating yet in this moment? 

✎ Because you guys weren’t- 

✎ Eventually, your hands got untangled and his gorgeous hair was saved. 

✎ Days after, Byakuya offered you to be his significant other. 

✎ And, duh, you said YES- 

✎ Though he isn’t big on PDA, me makes up for it when he allows you to play with his hair. Just twirling it around your finger makes you happy and your smile? He cannot resist it. 

✎ It was the first cute thing he had ever thought was cute- 

✎ He lets you do those scalp massages all the time, c’mon, he has work to do and he hides all the stress, lets face that fact- 

✎ By the way, tidy up his hair any day. If one strand of hair isn’t the way you like it, you can change it and he won’t get mad. Not in the slightest :D

✎ Byakuya loves how you make hairstyles for him, though he won’t tell. 

✎ But some of them... Can burn. Not his hair, his hair shall not burn, but those hideous designs? Yeah those can burn. 

✎ He’ll still let you do his hair that way if you want though-

Welp! I hope you liked this? It’s kinda short (for all of them of course) but I had no motivation to make this (aka i kinda liked this prompt so i did it, with the leftover of my motivation still in me :’D)

✾ Mod Mahiru ✾

✾ Snap Snap! Remember to Smile! ✾

[vinyls-and-valentines]

Okay but now it's your time to tell us more about your thoughts on emo Party Poison and scene Jet Star Mx. vinyls-and-valentines, don't think you'll get away that easily/lh

- Joy 🕸️

Why, there's no need for me to evade the topic, for you see: my canon Jet Star and Party Poison are both scene and an emo kids at heart! Also music-wise. Really, all they're missing is the well-defined aesthetic, which is partly because the fashion associated with midwestern emo is so Battery City, and because clothes don't tend to stay unscaved for long, so sooner or later everything ends up looking like it was lifted off a crust punk's bedroom floor.

Party Poison's love affair with emo started one faithful evening, when au and Dr. D were alone at the station and the pre-teen ventured into the recording booth to find D doing one of his bi-yearly record sorting sessions. When the Doctor notices aum, he of course asks if au wants to help him sort through the records whose covers are far too faded to be discernable anymore— "it's a mindless task, but it's got to be done sometimes or I wouldn't hear the end of it on air!" Not having anything better to do, Poison accepts and together they go through quite a few records, labeling them until Poison lands on a record from the 90s— not emo, but post-hardcore— which ends up becoming the gateway to aum getting into proper emocore and its dissolution across multiple branches of punk music.

Fashion-wise, black simply is Poison's color of choice because blood doesn't stain it easily, and because it is a form of going directly against BL/i dress code as much as wearing all neon colors. In Battery City and most neutral towns, dark colors are seen as somber and only fitted for formal wear or officials in positions such as exterminators, whereas light colors are seen as uplifting and appropriate for everyday wear as they encourage positive thinking and productivity. When Poison first came into the Zones most everything au knew about killjoys was what au was told by BL/i or the people in aur neighborhood (so nothing good) and so aur first instinct was to reject the color, but the white was also no longer safe, so au turned to the color black— doubling down on it to the point of having aur entire wardrobe be black as you'd expect someone at aur age at the time to do.

Jet Star's introduction to scene was at an after party at the Nest, where most people who were not quite old enough even by Zone standards to partake in certain activities or were just sensitive to strobing lights and such gathered outside and played cards/watched others play cards/bet who'd win at cards, while passing around a hand-held stereo to anyone with an 8-track or compact disk on them. As Star didn't quite have anything to his name yet other than kandi bracelets (which are a part of Zone culture as PLUR was kept alive through the live music scene) and a half-dead novelty lighter, he watched from the sidelines, commenting on the different matches with other joys and just soaking in the music playing and how it kind of clashed with the bass and fragments of other tunes from inside the Nest itself. The music played was purposefully shit, no matter how much the person who put it on talked about it like it was the coming of Destroya, but Star still found himself enjoying quite a few of the neon pop and techno and industrial-influenced tracks, which is where his whole music sense really stemmed from.

Fashion-wise, Star simply really enjoys "proper" killjoy fashion that is usually worn out at bars and concerts— brightly colored and pattern-heavy, layered in uncommon ways, but still very much oriented towards easily-readable and clunky shapes, with complex hairstyles and accessory combinations. It is hard at times to draw a line between his more glam rock inspired looks and the proper scene ones as they overlap in certain areas aesthetic-wise when Star is the one pulling them off, but then again, what is Zone culture if not genre (and gender) anarchy? He's also really into Gloomy Bear merch and the whole creepy-cute aesthetic, and has many many Gllomy Bear, Sanrio and rhinestone sticker sheets in one of the drawers in the garage

[kandi-pendragon]

I was planning on making a YouTube video for this but I’ve got my hands full and I’m too lazy so here we go:

I’ve seen a lot of fellow Merlinites begging for a season 6 of Merlin, probably hoping for it to follow the script that three young women came up with (look them up on YouTube under the name 3RingsLeft. I love them and their songs own my whole heart) in the absence of closure from the Merlin finale. Now personally, I don’t want that to progress further than a script, but that’s only because I’m a sad pathetic excuse for a human who’s only purpose in life is to roll around in her misery and enjoy not getting any closure whatsoever from a show. And I doubt that I’m the only Merlinite out there who feels this way. That open ending is precisely what hooks you at the very end, it’s exactly what makes you so obsessed. The acting, the plot, and the characters keep you watching, but the finale keeps you thinking about it long after you moved onto other shows. And I’m too much of a coward to put that feeling of obsession on the line by rooting for closure, because my obsession is about the only thing I have going for me right now :)

Anyway, back to my point. I have been thinking about this for several months, and I wanted to get it out there. I know it might never happen but like I said. I’m pathetic. I cling to hope until the devil comes along so I can sell my soul to make my dreams come true. What have I been thinking about, you ask? Simple: BBC Knights.  

Here’s a little information I wrote down ahead of time to organize my thoughts on the matter:

What is it?

Exactly what it sounds like. The idea of BBC Knights would be a spin-off of BBC Merlin, featuring the Knights of the Round Table, set in the time jump between season 3 and season 4. During this time, Lancelot is still alive, as is Uther. Arthur is newly appointed regent, and Morgana has quieted down for the time being. We get to explore so many things that we never got to before. Nothing would interfere with the finale of season five, of course. This would only be a filler, to give more content for the fandom, as well as more information, to better understand some of the characters.

Because you can’t have the Knights of the Round Table without also having Arthur and Merlin, the two of them would still be included in the show. However, they would no longer be the main focus. This would excuse some things too, for instance, not having to use Kilgarrah anymore. If the show is not focused on Merlin, we don’t have to find our way around not including Kilgarrah, because his voice actor, John Hurt, is no longer alive. (Rest In Peace, Mr. Hurt)

Focusing on the knights and this time frame would let us see more of Lancelot being a knight of Camelot, too — something he had been working towards his whole life — while BBC Merlin only granted us 2 episodes of that before killing him off. He had an entire year of being what he had strived to become since he was a child, and we never got to see it.

It would also give us the chance to better understand some characters’ backstories, something that the actor Eoin Macken said he wanted to do in the original show, had the last two seasons not been solely focused on the plot, and achieving the finale. Gwaine once mentions that he has a sister: “Well my sister is an evil old toad, so I’d be eternally grateful.” But we never even learn her name, much less what she did to make Gwaine hate her. We know that Lancelot met Percival before the others did, but we know none of the details. We know Elyan traveled around on his own for years, but we don’t know what he did, where he went, or who he met. We know Leon has been a knight for some time, but we don’t know anything about his childhood with Arthur, nor his friendship with Gwen and Elyan. There is so much potential for backstories, not to mention character development.

Of course, this all might be hard to achieve, since it’s been 8 years since Merlin ended, and the cast has aged (though not noticeably. I swear they’re immortal.) There have been hairstyle changes, beards grown, muscle mass gained. However, it’s shouldn’t be too hard to pass off. Maybe Arthur wears a crown or circlet to cover up the fact that he doesn’t have bangs anymore, Maybe Gwaine’s hair grows like a weed, Maybe Lancelot hasn’t shaved in a while, that sort of thing. Plus, it’s the fans. Merlin’s skin could be blue and we would just be grateful to have new content to analyze and cry over.

Things to include??? This is not obligatory, however, just some of my ideas. Obviously BBC Merlin changes some of the legends that they use. The Cup of Life instead of the Holy Grail, Leon instead of Galahad, the Afanc not collaborating with how it’s described in Welsh folklore, not to mention they used characters from Arthurian legend and made them their own, like Gwaine. (Gawain) Obviously if we included more adventures that the legends speak about, we would have to change the version of those legends, to better suit the characters as the show made them. However, the legends are still worth looking into, because I believe they would make for interesting episodes if done right, and they might also provide inspiration.

* Gwaine & The Green Knight * New Characters (Yvain, Drudwas, Sir Kay, Sir Bors etc.) * Yvain & His Lion * Drudwas ap Tryffin and his Adar Llwch Gwin (his griffins) * Agravaine coming to Camelot (and everyone’s first impression of him) * Explanation of Morgause’s Injury (why did it look like half her face had been paralyzed/burned off when all Merlin did was throw her into a wall?? Idk maybe I’m just stupid) * Agravaine Meeting Morgana and Morgause * Sir Kay and the Cath Palug (Palug’s Cat) * More insight to the Knights views on Magic * More detailed and fleshed out backstories for the knights (Gwaine’s sister, How Percival met Lancelot, More depth on why Elyan left Camelot, embarrassing baby Arthur stories from Leon, etc.) * Character development * New Opening Titles (main actors will change, and it wouldn’t make sense to use scenes from the original show. Also it would make more sense to keep Kilgarrah out, since he most likely won’t have a presence in the spin-off. Music could stay the same, but the scenes and names in the opening titles would probably change, as well as the whole “The destiny of a great kingdom rests on the shoulders of a young man. His name… Merlin” would be replaced, since the focus is no longer on the young Warlock.) * Meliodas the Demon King ._. * More POC representation, more POC in the cast. * Maybe queer rep? Casual, passing mentions of a mlm fling in the knighthood (doesn’t have to be someone we know) a character going by they/them pronouns without explanation and without making it a big thing, etc. Small, but noticeable things. It’s 2021 we deserve the bare minimum. * Tavern scenes! We know they spend a lot of time in there, but only get to see a few moments and hear about a couple more. * Maybe a first mission with all the main knights. Them working as a small team for the first time. Bonding around the campfire. This would give an excuse to create some insight into the characters while also sticking to the plot * Arthur struggling with the responsibilities of being regent (brief scenes or mentions, him leaning on his knights for support, them having to go on adventures without him) * More Gwen and Elyan!!! Being siblings!!! Please!!! * Introductions of characters we’ve already met: King Bayard, Elena, Vivian (seriously wtf happened to her?? Is she still in love with Arthur??) * Training scenes!!! When Arthur’s busy!!! Give me Leon teaching Elyan some sword moves and laughing about something from when they were kids! Give me Percy and Gwaine sparing only a few feet away! Give me Merlin helping Lance with his armor and Gwen watching her brother from across the field! Give me insight into each characters fighting style, skills, and weapon of choice! D e t a i l s!!! * More mythical welsh creatures, like the welsh cousin of the Kelpie who’s name I can’t remember but translates to water horse. So much opportunities for cool magical creature encounters! * And more!!!!

Now that we have a director in our cast, (who was rooting for this kind of characterization chance btw) I think maybe, if we’re lucky enough, we might have a chance. Idk, maybe I’m too late, but Eoin already said that he was working on a Pseudo Merlin project (whatever the hell that means) and I just. I love entertaining this idea. Who knows, maybe the spn fandom can help us summon a daemon and we can all collectively sell what little fragments of our soul we have left.

Those who still want a season 6, I get it! And I don’t blame you! And guess what— this would not interfere with that at all. Maybe we can both get what we want :)

But right now I’ve accidentally hyped myself up and made a petition so uh. Feel free to sign? If I get enough people on board I might do something about it and message Eoin, as soon as I know he’s done with his Merlin project and it would all work out 👉👈

If you have anything to add onto this post, go ahead! What would you want out of a spin-off?

[babbushka]

Hide Your Smile

Flip Zimmerman x Reader 

11.5k ; Warnings for: Dark!fic (graphic depictions of violence [drunken violent outbursts, domestic violence, domestic abuse {physical and verbal}], blood and gore, graphic brutal murder, mild stalking, possessive behavior), & NSFW content (Car sex/fingering)

Also available on AO3!

(this fic was written in collaboration with my amazing friends and followers here. Thank you all so much for voting in the polls to determine this oneshot, I hope you enjoy it!)

                                                       --------------------

You don't own me I'm not just one of your many toys You don't own me Don't say I can't go with other boys

And don't tell me what to do Don't tell me what to say And please, when I go out with you Don't put me on display 'cause

You don't own me...

Darkness, all around.

Nothing but hot wet earth, mud sinking under your feet, swallowing you whole.

Rain, thudding against the ground, against your back as you are chased by a monster in the night, bitter breath haunting the back of your neck, the hair rising on your arms only to be drenched down by the torrential downpour flooding your lungs.  

The world blurs around you, and you can’t tell, can’t tell which way is up, which way is forward. Things feel slow, thick, you blink but the spots only multiply. There’s a rush in your ears, a gruesome thud thud thudding – is that your pulse? You don’t know.

Blood stings your eyes, dirt caked into the backs of your molars. You can’t see, you can’t hear, you don’t know what’s going on, you see lights in the distance but when you run towards them they seem farther and farther away. Claws and teeth nip at your heels, you can’t stop running, can’t stop no matter how badly your legs ache, because if you stop even for just a moment, he’ll get you, and who knows what will become of you then.

Somewhere far away, a million miles away, Leslie Gore sings and your friends dance in a cookie cutter house in a cookie cutter town. But there in the woods, as something closes around your arm and drags you down to the ground,

you scream.

The party had been going well enough, hadn’t it? Josh hadn’t taken his hand off of you all evening, and wasn’t that something just dandy. Things had been getting tense between the two of you lately, you try not to think about all those heated arguments and cold shoulders that your boyfriend had dropped atop your head. You could ignore all of that now, he didn’t mean it, you knew that.

Maybe he did mean it, but he wasn’t meaning it now, as he dances with you in the dimly lit living room. You weren’t so sure what time it even was, gosh the rain was coming down so hard and making the skies nearly pitch black; why, it coulda been two in the morning for all you knew!

You give a strained smile to Josh for a brief moment, before laying your head back down on his chest. You think he looks relatively dashing tonight, dressed up for the party. New Year’s Eve 1962, could you believe it? Or well, it’d be 1962 in a couple minutes, but still.

You wore a mini-dress with the grooviest pattern you could find, some bright purple tights and white block heels, and you’d done your hair up so high you were sure you could feel it swaying on top of your head. It was very on trend these days, this sort of hairstyle. From what you could tell, anyway. You knew that this party was important for Josh, was important that he show up and make a good appearance with his football buddies, there were guys here that knew NFL draft scouts and he needed to impress them so he could get on their good side.

You wanted to look nice. He looked nice too, in his letterman jacket and jeans. Maybe he could have dressed up a little more, put a little more effort in. It was alright, it was fine. He gelled his hair down, that was more than you were expecting.

Thunder cracks across the sky and you involuntarily press yourself closer to him – he’ll hold you, won’t he? You wait for his arms to tighten around you, but they never do. Disappointed, but not surprised, you think.

“What’s your problem babe?” He asks, his voice slurred. You realize you’ve stopped dancing, stopped the short back and forth of your feet and he’d picked up on that.

“Nothing Josh. Just you know, the thunder and all.” You shrug, but he only scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“It’s not even real, it can’t hurt you, get a grip.” Josh steps away from you, away from the dance floor.

There are prying eyes there in the dark, and you’re embarrassed by the volume in his voice. He doesn’t realize how loud he can be sometimes, you know that, especially when he’s a little more buzzed than normal. He’s been getting more and more buzzed these days, you didn’t think it was good, was healthy. Just because he was of legal drinking age didn’t mean that you should dump alcohol into your body, not the way he did anyway.

“Right, of course Josh, sorry.” You grit your teeth, clench your jaw.

“Why don’t you go get me another beer, make yourself useful.” He dismisses you, turning towards his group of friends on the football team, towards bigger and stronger boys than he is, an attempt to weasel his way inside their group.

You’ve had quite enough of being dismissed, pushed aside. You’ve had enough. You’d been thinking of leaving him for a while, thinking about telling him what for, for once and for all. It never felt like the right time, something about him always made you feel like something bad would happen if you tried. But you’re at a point where you’re not being given any other choice.

You watch him laugh with his friends, with these college seniors, big boys on campus, and your heart races in your chest. A very small part of your brain fantasizes late at night about killing him, pushing him off some cliff or into traffic, an accident. Always an accident.

You’d never do it of course – of course not. Good girls didn’t kill their star athlete boyfriends.

But.

But maybe…maybe if something were to happen to him, you wouldn’t be so upset, would you?

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink?” The words tumble past your lips without much thought, and you don’t really even register it until the whole group of jocks go silent and Josh turns around slowly, menacingly, to stare you down.

“…What the fuck did you just say?” His voice is low, angry.  

“You’re supposed to drive me back home after this, I just want to make sure you’ll be alright to drive.” You’re unrelenting, shoulders square and jaw tight. If he thought he was going to be a jackass to win brownie points, then he had another thing coming.

The jocks only sip their beers, carefully watching. You wonder if any of them would come to your defense, but their silence is telling. You decide you hate them.

“I didn’t ask for your fucking opinion, I asked you to get me a fucking beer.” Josh shoves his red cup into your hand and you decide you hate him too.

Without another word, you accept the cup and with a forced smile, make your way to the kitchen where people are crowded by kegs and bottles.

You give a small sigh while you pour a cup of whatever shitty draft they’d gotten for the party. Part of you wishes you hadn’t come at all, you knew it could have only ended like this, being ignored and belittled all evening.

You wish that Flip were there, and you sigh again.

Philip ‘Flip’ Zimmerman, your best friend. The handsome basketball player, the guy who’s got his life together. A good job at the lumbermill, probably going to be a manager or something, the CEO one day. Smart, so smart! You can’t help but think of how many nights he tutored you for math with gentle eyes. And funny, and kind, and nice to you. He’s a couple years older than you and probably doesn’t think of you as anything other than a friend, but…but for a moment, you imagine what it might be like to call Flip your man.

You wonder if Flip would hold you tight when the thunder cracks across the sky, and a small smile threatens to creep up on your face. He definitely would, he’s done it before, hasn’t he? Given you his jacket to keep you dry from the rain, strong arms around your shoulders. Your cheeks begin to warm at the thought, at the way you can practically smell the cologne he wears whenever you’d rest your head on his shoulder.

You wish Flip were here. Or maybe no, maybe you just wish you were with him alone, were with him anywhere that wasn’t here. You wish you were cozied up on the couch in his Ma’s house, watching some scary movie and tucking yourself under his chin while you share a bowl of stove-top popcorn.

Lightning splinters across the clouds through the window in the kitchen, and you sigh again.

You had asked him to come, you really did try. But he said he was busy with work stuff, and he couldn’t. You admired that about him, his work ethic. He was so dedicated to everything he did, and even though you wanted to be selfish and whine and complain about needing his attention, you respected when he put his foot down.

Watching the froth begin to fade from the top of the beer cup, you think to yourself that tonight’s it, the last night you’d deal with Josh. You decide that you’ll go over, give him his beer, and then as soon as he drops you home whenever this party is supposed to end, you’ll tell him not to bother calling you ever again.

Something inside of you lightens up at the thought, like a weight slowly slipping off your shoulders. You can’t help but smile a little bit, at the thought of no longer being with him. Maybe…maybe if Flip saw you were single, he’d make a move of his own. Your head is in the clouds thinking about Flip, when you accidentally bump into someone on your way back to the living room.

A little bit of beer sloshes onto a boy’s shirt, and you recognize him as one of Josh’s new pals.

Before you can even open your mouth to apologize for the mess, he grabs you by the arm. His grip is harsh, and he yanks you around for a second, the beer spilling everywhere, all over the floor, onto your new white shoes.

“Hey J, are you gonna control your woman or what?” The guy – was his name Tommy? – sneers down at you. He’s tall, and he’s strong, you can start to feel a dull ping of pain on your arm where his fingers are digging in deep.

“I’m not his to control.” You wrench yourself out of the guy’s hold, stumbling backwards a few feet from the force of it.

Josh is up off the couch in an instant, infuriated with you.

He’s drunk, eyes glassed over like some shark, dark and empty. He backhands you across the jaw, sends you falling to the floor despite your best efforts, the crack of your skull against the wooden panels calling spots to your vision.

“Don’t ever speak back to someone like that, are you out of your fucking mind?” He wrangles you back up off the floor, grabs you by the front of your dress and hauls you up roughly, unkindly.

“Don’t touch me!” You shout, your nails scratching at his face, teeth bared in a rage of your own, pent-up anger that you’ve been swallowing for six months as you smack him across the face back in retaliation, angry and spitting, “Get off of me!”

Josh doesn’t let up, in fact he doubles down, kicks at your ankles so your knees cave in to try and support yourself as his hand shoots up from the collar of your blouse to wrapping around your throat. He drags you like that through the party, and you can’t help but wonder why no one is saying anything, doing anything? Do they not hear you? Do they not care?

“I’ll make you regret that – I’ll make you regret everything.” Josh hisses lowly in your ear as he forces you through the house by the scruff of your neck, sour breath of a drunken stupor stinging like a brand across your cheek.

“I already do.” You choke, struggling against his hold, against his hands.

You manage to elbow him in the stomach, hard, hard enough that he doubles over from the wind knocked out of his lungs, and you run.

                                            ---------------------------

Don't try to change me in any way You don't own me Don't tie me down 'cause I'd never stay

I don't tell you what to say I don't tell you what to do So just let me be myself That's all I ask of you

Shoving through the crowd of people, a hundred faces you don’t recognize, smiles fading into confused glares, you run. 

Thunder, rain, lightning, music deafens in your ears as you look for the door. Why is it so dark at this party? Where in the house are you? Hallways lead to doors that lead to nowhere, and you can hear his footsteps, can hear him running running running after you.

Didn’t you pass through this room before? Where was a telephone, surely whoever’s house this was, surely they had a telephone. But who would you call? You couldn’t call your parents, couldn’t let them know you snuck out of the house. You could call Flip, yes, that was it! You’d call Flip, if only you could find a phone.

They laugh at you, the people at the party. Laugh with their drug addled eyes, high off mushrooms and LSD, acid trips going wrong wrong wrong. They dance and laugh and laugh and dance, chugging spiked drinks with wild abandon, lights flashing red yellow purple green blue, a cacophony of psychedelics.

He’s there, somewhere among them, he’s there, you know he is. The smack of your footsteps sound like gunshots against the wood, your head throbs. You want to sob and scream and shout and cry cry cry but you can’t do that until you are safe, and if you stay in this house, there’s no telling where you’ll find safety again.

Or at all.

You try every door, locked ones, unlocked ones, looking for a way out. Eventually you lock yourself in a bathroom, lucky that there’s a window. It’s a single story house, the jump isn’t far.

You abandon your shoes, they don’t stay on your feet that well anyway, and you don’t have the time to groan about the frigid mud that squeaks between your toes as you splash down onto the ground from the window.

“Help!” You cup your mouth and shout, hearing something, a twig snapping not too far away. You see him, he’s coming after you through a side-door, and you have to run, you have to go. “Oh fuck – ”

You bolt, freezing rain soaking your clothes.

You don’t know where you are, don’t recognize this part of town.

Josh knew the area, not you, not you. These were his friends, not yours, not yours.

You just run, hoping your legs carry you to safety, carry you away. There’s woods, in the distance. You whip your head around, try looking for a road, any road. Where’s the driveway? It must be on the other side of the house, it must be –

Josh is gaining on you, athletic legs more powerful than your own.

“You can’t outrun me, don’t even try, don’t bother, get the fuck over here!” He hollers at you, voice guttural and deep, primal in a way that strikes fear into your heart.

You wish you had something, a weapon of some kind, any kind, to fight him with, but you don’t.

So you run.

“Shitshitshitshitshit – someone help!” You toss your voice to the wind, the howling wind which carries sheets of rain, pounds it down sideways against your back, your face, hair sopping wet and sticking to your eyes, nose, getting in your mouth as you pant pant pant, sobs of terror spiking through your chest, salty tears whisked away by the rain.

You don’t know how far you’ve gotten, you don’t know if anyone can hear you, don’t know if anyone would even come if they did. You need to form a plan, need to put enough distance between you and this monster of a man, need to catch your breath.

Your adrenaline pounds in your ear as the earth slips and slides underneath your feet, your nylon stockings not doing anything to help gain traction. You skid your knees on rocks and trip over gnarled roots, but every time you get up, each and every time you have to get up, otherwise he’ll get you.

You can feel how close he is, his hands reaching out to tear away at your clothes, can feel the ghost of his fingers trying to hook around your dress, and you can’t help but let out a high-pitched scream, something that pierces into the blackness of night, something that sends the birds from their branches.

“How dare you! How dare you embarrass me like that!” Josh manages to snatch you, the both of you tumbling down to the ground from the momentum, rolling in the mud. It’s in your eyes, mouth, a sharp hot pain at your temple makes you think you’ve hit your head, maybe on a rock? You don’t know, you taste copper in your mouth. You feel hands, no, fists, hard against your jaw. “I’ll kill you, you whore, I’ll fucking kill you for embarrassing me.”

“Don’t touch me – !” You scream, searching the ground for something, for anything, relief flooding through your body when your hand closes around a rock large enough to do some damage.

“Quiet, just be quiet!” He’s annoyed with you, annoyed with how loud you’re being, as if you’re inconveniencing him by not taking a beating politely. You take in a deep breath and muster all the strength you possibly can, to slam the rock against his face, making him knock backwards with a loud, “Fuck!”

“Someone – please!” You cough and sputter as blood streams down your face, washed away by the heavy rain which does not relent.

In an instant, the hands are yanked away from you, and you scramble to get away as fast as you can to catch your breath. You cough and hack up blood, dirt, mud which grinds between your teeth, the pounding against your temple making you dizzy, making you sick. You feel like you’re going to be sick, the adrenaline rising up up up your throat.

“Who the fuck are you – ” You hear Josh start, before the sound of punches and grunts cuts through the air again, and you squint in the dark to see who came to your rescue, who heard your calls.

“Flip?” You nearly can’t believe it, can’t believe your widened eyes, but there he is – you’d recognize those broad shoulders and the pattern of his breathing anywhere. Despite all better judgement, you rush back to his side, slipping and sliding on mud as rain beats down with such fury as your best friend’s fists, “Flip!”

“You don’t get to touch her, ever again.” Flip does not yell, he does not scream.

He does not raise his voice, he is calm, eerily calm, unnervingly calm.

You almost don’t hear him speaking at all, from how softly his voice comes out as he kicks the shit out of Josh, as he holds his head in place and knees him so hard in the face once, twice, three times, hard enough that the sick crunch of bone and cartilage echoes the thunder all around you, and he goes limp.

But Flip doesn’t stop, he doesn’t stop beating Josh’s face in with his fist until the man is a mess of blood, teeth coming loose, broken nose and busted lip bubbling hot, steaming in the freezing cold air. He doesn’t stop still, and you watch in awe, in twisted admiration as Flip hauls the ragdoll of your former boyfriend up enough to get him in a chokehold and snap his neck.

Only then, does Flip drop him, face down into the mud.

You look at the lifeless body, and then up at Flip, who you find is already looking back at you. His chest is heaving, he’s panting, out of breath and exhausted. The rain has soaked him through too, but he’s not shivering, not the way you are. He must have ran too, had to have ran to catch up with you. You don’t know how deep in the woods you are, how deep he had to go to find you.

But he did, he did.

You’re numb, standing there. Numb from the cold, from the shock, you don’t know. You want to comfort Flip – and isn’t that fucked up? You wanting to comfort someone else right now? But you do.

Everything feels like it’s going to be okay now, now that Flip’s here.

“Oh my god.” You say, because you don’t really know what else to say, don’t really know what else to do other than stand there. You’re frightened, you can feel the fear bubbling up in your stomach, but there’s calm now too, a calm that’s got you more afraid than anything. You look at Josh, then back to Flip once again. “Do you think…”

“Are you okay?” Flip pushes the hair out of his face with a bloody hand and takes a cautious step towards you.

“Me? Yeah – yes I’m…Do you think you killed him?” You ask, holding a hand out to Flip.

You know he’s worried about scaring you, and warmth cuts through some of the chill in your bones at the thought. You extend a hand and encourage him to take it, smearing blood between your palms which the rain washes away, carries down into the wood in thick muddy rivers.

You’re not afraid of Flip, could never be afraid of Flip.

“Look at me,” He’s hung up on it, presses his forehead against yours and goes nearly cross-eyed in the dark to peer into your eyes, your soul, “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” You finally answer truthfully, taking another step closer to him, trying to get as close to him as possible. You feel safe, your brain screams safety with this man, with your friend, your Flip. “But I’m better now that you’re here. What are you doing here? I thought you had work.”

Confusion dawns on you, and you frown a little bit, just because it doesn’t make sense for him to be here right now, it doesn’t make sense for him to be here at all. Flip’s eyes widen a little, and even in the scant moonlight you can tell he’s blushing. He tries pulling away, but you don’t release your grip on his hand, warm and solid and real against your own.

“I just – I’m sorry I – well I got off early and I wanted to make sure that you would be okay so I came over and just kind of watched from the car in case you needed me for anything.” He rushes out in one big breath, winces, waits for you to berate him.

“Do you do that? Watch me from a distance.” You ask him, the both of you standing there in the rain.

You know it’s absurd, somewhere in the back of your head a small voice tells you it’s absurd to have a conversation like this while standing over a body in the middle of the woods, but you push it away, push it away and step closer to Flip. You’re not accusatory when you ask, you’re not condemning him – you’re just curious.

“No – I – well yes, sometimes, but only when you’re out with him.” He admits, nudging Josh’s back with the toe of his boot. His voice is dark, low, gritty in the back of his throat but he doesn’t yell, you sigh against him, your heart breaks for the anger in his voice, the sadness. You wish you never started dating this schmuck, wish you never said yes to him, wished that it had been Flip who asked instead. “I don’t trust him, (Y/N), I don’t like how he treats you. I worry, and I know that it’s creepy I know, I’m sorry, I’m not a creep I swear, I just. I care about you.”

You’re quiet for a little while, and then you move away from him only far enough to plant your stocking-clad foot onto the back of Josh’s head, push him deeper into the earth, the mud. The body gives no resistance, and a sick satisfaction makes your vision go blurry.

“Have…have you done this before?” You ask, that numbness starting to fade, the tremble of shock at what you witnessed, experienced setting in.

Flip looks like he would fall to his knees before you in that moment, as he blinks water out of his eyes, as he trembles too.

“No, I swear. I don’t even know what came over me, but I heard you screaming and begging and I couldn’t stop, I had to help you somehow.” His voice breaks, and all you want is to be close to him, so you go, go rushing into his arms, and he holds you tight.

He holds you and you hold him back, two people under the moonlight as lightning illuminates the body with picture-perfect clarity for a split second. He’s face down in the earth but you can tell, you can just tell he’s brutally mangled by the damage Flip did to him, and as you shove your face into Flip’s chest, for the briefest of moments, you smile.

“We have to get rid of him.” You say softly, trying to think of a plan, trying to think of what to do.

Flip gently pushes on your shoulders to separate the two of you, and shakes his head with a frown.

“We? No (Y/N), you can’t be involved at all, you can’t, just please go to the car and get dry and warm, I can handle this.” He’s sweet, so sweet with the way there’s sincerity in his eyes, but you’re not having any of it.

“I’m already involved, Flip, I’m not going to let you do this alone. Whatever it is, we’re in this together now. We can’t go to the police, they wouldn’t understand, they wouldn’t believe us. I’m with you.” You squeeze his hand lovingly in your own, and you can’t help but think how good it feels, how right it feels, to hold his hand.

“I think I have an idea, but first, we need to get him to the car.” Flip chews the inside of his cheek, a nervous tick of his that you always scold him for.

You don’t scold him now, there’s no time, that’s not what’s important now.

What’s important is hauling dead weight down the woods without a trace, without any evidence other than what will be washed away.

                                            ---------------------------

I'm young and I love to be young I'm free and I love to be free To live my life the way I want To say and do whatever I please

And don't tell me what to do Oh, don't tell me what to say And please, when I go out with you Don't put me on display

The body rolls around slightly, in the trunk. You’re in Flip’s dad’s '58 oldsmobile, the heat is blasting, and you hug your knees in the passenger seat, as Flip maneuvers through the winding Colorado roads. It had taken quite some time to get back through the car, out of the woods.

He had been parked out front, only a few feet from the driveway the whole time. All evening, sitting, watching, waiting. Hoping you wouldn’t need him, but prepared to do anything for you if you did. He’s silent on the drive to wherever it is you’re going, the radio is playing softly. The music helps calm your nerves, and you’re thankful for it, you try not to freak out.

The little clock on the dashboard says it’s only about midnight, but you feel like it’s way later than that. The rain fucks everything up, you think, the rain’s been pouring for hours and hours now, but it feels like days.

Every time the car makes a sharp turn, or goes up and down a hill, the body thuds against the walls of the trunk, and you just hug your knees tighter.

“Where are we going?” You ask eventually, voice soft. You’re afraid if you raise it, you’ll scream. Your throat hurts, you’ve done enough screaming already.

“Hospital.” Flip replies easily, not taking his eyes off the road, his hands at perfect ten-and-two. You wonder if he’s afraid of screaming too.

The thought of the hospital sends a spike of fear through your blood, makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“What? Why?” You demand immediately, confused, scared.

“You still haven’t stopped bleeding and I need to make sure you’re okay.” Flip says evenly. You can tell he wants a cigarette, you can tell. But this is his dad’s car, and he can’t smoke in it. You wonder what his dad would say to knowing that there’s a dead body in it, wonder if smoke would be more of an issue.

“No!” You shake your head, turning yourself towards him fully, a hand on his arm. “No, Flip please, they’ll call my parents and they don’t know I’m out this late, please just – let’s just get rid of him, and then take me home, Flip I’m begging.”

“But what if you’re seriously hurt? What if he did something severe?” Flip’s grip on the steering wheel is white-knuckled, and your stomach flutters as the windshield wipers beat back and forth, whisking the rain away.

“I’m okay, I promise I’m okay, I’ll be fine.” You don’t know if that’s the truth, but you have to believe that it is, you have to. “Philip, please.”

The use of his full first name convinces him, you don’t think you’ve ever said it before, not out loud anyway, not like this. He chews on his lip and sighs, nods his head to your supreme relief.

“Thank you.” You want to kiss him, want to embrace him desperately, but now isn’t the time. He’s driving, there are more important things right now, more important things to deal with. “What are we going to do with him? We can’t bury him in the woods, the rain’s logged all the dirt.”

“Logged – we can go to the mill.” Flip snaps his fingers, and it’s like a light bulb has gone off inside his head.

You just sit back and press a bundled up wad of wet napkins against the wound on your temple, hugging your knees, knowing that you’ll be okay, as long as you’re with Flip.

                                            ---------------------------

The lumbermill is a family-owned and operated affair. Flip’s grandfather had founded it sixty-two years ago way back during the turn of the century in 1900, and it had remained in the Zimmerman hands ever since. Once a small business, now stood a proud industrial center for logging and clearing away trees to produce more logs and square away neat pockets of land. Where there used to be only hand-held tools and traditions, now there were the highest-end types of machinery.

You thought Flip was brilliant, absolutely brilliant – you knew exactly what he was thinking.

Just last month, Flip’s dad had been bragging about the new woodchipper that had finally been ordered. You remember sitting at Flip’s Ma’s shabbat table and listening to him go on and on about the new sharp blades, how much more efficient it would make everything, not to mention how little waste they would have, considering the wood chips could be sold for all kinds of uses.

At the time, you had thought it was a little annoying how he wouldn’t let anyone else at the table get in a word, but now you’re thanking your lucky stars that you had been paying attention.

It’s strange, being here this late, being here at all. You’ve visited before of course, Flip has always been eager to show you around. It never felt like you were sneaking about or anything, not considering his family owned it, considering he’d own it one day too.

But it’s strange, with the flood lights filling the night sky with a brilliant white, the usually bustling lumbermill quiet, nothing but the sound of harsh rain clanging on machinery and metal roofs. Flip parks the car in the lot, reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out a key-ring. There must be a dozen keys on the little circle, but Flip seems to know exactly which ones are for what.

“Emergency backups of all the gates,” he explains, jingling it on his index finger for a second, “No one will suspect anything.”

You nod, chew on your cheeks. The thought of going back out into the rain is unpleasant, but you suck it up and open the car door, bracing yourself for a minute before the icy water plunges down the back of your dress once again, body already shivering.

He meets you at the trunk, pops it open. With the flood lights, you can see the extent of the damage to Josh’s face – if you could even call it a face anymore. It was nearly caved in completely, soaked with blood and mud, all the planes of a face that should push out were indented inwards. You manage a glance at Flip’s knuckles, and you see they’re busted wide open, and you suck in a sharp breath.

“Follow me.” Flip says, hoisting the body over his shoulder like a fireman would rescue someone from a burning building, and his boots splash in the mud towards where he knows the woodchipper is set up.

You regret not going back for your shoes now, as more freezing mud stains your tights. You regret dressing up at all, dressing for fashion instead of comfort. Flip is in a flannel and jeans, and normally you tease him for being like a cartoon character always wearing the same thing, you wish that you weren’t in a fucking miniskirt and tights in the dead of winter.

Lightning backs the machine dramatically, after a few minutes of trudging. The ground here is much more substantial than the woods, and you push your legs across a developed terrain instead of through the wilderness of the mountains. It stands tall, proud, the woodchipper, and you swallow a lump around your throat.

“Is that it?” You ask, close enough to Flip that you only have to raise your voice a little bit to compete with the sound of the rain.

Flip dumps the body onto the ground, goes over to the woodchipper and turns it on. You can tell that using it in the rain is a poor decision, but it’s the only option you have. Flip adjusts some settings, and the thing roars to life, metal blades whirring whirring whirring.

“Yeah but it – he’s too fucking big he can’t go in all in one piece, it’ll get jammed.” Flip runs a hand through his hair as he comes half-jogging back over to you, and you just blink for a moment.

“Okay then we cut him up.” You say matter of factly, your heart pounding in your chest, aware that time is not on your side, that you have to get this done and get out, have to get this done and go as quickly as possible, in case someone comes, in case someone sees.

“(Y/N), are you sure you want to do this?” Flip asks you seriously, puts his hands gently on your shoulders and looks into your eyes.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life.” You whisper, eyes wide, feeling more liberated and free, feeling so light, determined. Maybe it’s the shock, maybe you’ve lost your fucking mind, you don’t know. But you can’t stop now, you’ve done this much, you can’t stop now. “It can’t be too hard, like breaking down a chicken, right? Split at the joints.”

The analogy is lost on Flip, because as much as you love your friend, he cannot cook to save his life. Flip isn’t one to smile, and he doesn’t smile then, but you know he’s agreed with you because he looks around, tries to find something.

“Hold on.” He runs across the yard, finds one of the sheds that’s tucked against the back wall of one of the main buildings.

You stand there and wait, arms crossed, staring down at Josh. While Flip searches for whatever it is he’s looking for, you just grow more and more angry, watching rain flood the spaces in the dips of his shoulders.

“Fuck you.” You say to his lifeless body, “You say I embarrassed you? You tormented me. I wish I could have killed you myself. You’re lucky Flip did it, I wouldn’t have been so merciful.”

You don’t know what’s come over you, but the words sound like the most truthful ones you’ve ever told this boy, this husk of a monster, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. You can’t help yourself, spitting onto the ground in his direction, sneering through the rain, blinking it and the shocked fury out of your eyes.

Flip returns with an axe, brand new from the looks of it. The blade glints in the floodlight, freshly polished metal dripping with silver rivers of water as Flip swings it lightly in his hand.

“This should work, fuck, okay. Okay. Okay alright okay, you come over here, stand over here I don’t want you getting hurt accidentally.” He’s steeling himself, psyching himself up for this, and you put a hand on his back to calm him.

“Want me to do it?” You offer, not knowing the first fucking things about even how to hold an axe, let alone swing one.

“No, no let me.” Flip huffs out a laugh, shakes his head. You can’t help but feel silly for asking, you know there’s no way you’d have the upper body strength to cut through a person. You’d never even chopped wood before, and well, Flip was an actual lumberjack.

“Okay, I can count to three?” You acquiesce with a tremor in your voice.

“Please.” Flip whispers, getting the body into position.

You stand where Flip tells you, a little ways away, as he raises the axe high above his head.

“One…”

There’s a ringing in your ears, a pounding in your chest. You’re doing this, you’re really doing this, you can’t help but think. Flip plants his feet firmly on the ground, takes in a deep breath. You can see his hands flex and grip the handle, as he liens himself up.

“Two…”

Your face shakes, teeth rattling in your skull from where your jaw chatters, shivers in the cold. It’s so bright, so bright with all the floodlights, you feel like you’re being watched, you feel like you can hear the whispers, the murmurs of ghosts all around you, the ghost of this monster you’ve killed.

“Three!”

Hot blood sprays from Josh’s shoulder as the axe swings down, cleaves into his shoulder. The blade is bran new, terribly sharp, and it nearly goes all the way through. The bone splinters, you can hear it, can hear it slicing into pieces. Flip pries the blade out and lines himself up again, does not wait this time for your count before taking aim and slamming it into the body again.

Blood hot and thick bubbles up, gurgles around the wound, and when Flip tosses a severed arm away from the rest of the body, despite yourself, you turn around, brace your hands on your knees and throw up. Everything you ate and drank at the party comes back up in an acrid stinging cough that has you nearly choking, but you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and get yourself together.

You don’t know how Flip has the stomach for this, for it, but he has a steady hand as he works on the other arm, separating it from the body.

The machine is still on, the machine is hungry.

You want to give it what it wants, you want to see the spray out the other end. Without waiting for his instruction, you pick up the arm, grab it by the wrist. You make sure there’s no jewelry, no watches or anything that could get jammed, and you rush it over to the woodchipper, drop it into the basin.

The sound it makes is horrific, the sick squelch and crunch of bone, the shredding shredding shredding of the blades. Mincemeat blasts out the other end, and even as some of it sprays back against the wind, even as some of it lands on your face, speckles of blood and guts and shards of crushed bone, you find that you’re grinning, because it worked.  

“Another one, give me another one.” You say eagerly, holding a hand out to Flip.

He smiles too, eyes too bright, as he gives you Josh’s other arm, hacked away in nice clean segments. He watches as you dump the second arm into the machine, gets to see as it eats up the flesh, grinds and slashes it into nothingness, watches as the bits of this man land in wet smacks on the dirt.

Piece by piece, you obliterate the monster that had tormented you for months.

Piece by piece, you free yourself of the hurt and pain, the lies and manipulation he shackled you with.

Piece by piece, you destroy the evidence, watch as it washes away, watch as the rain carries it down the drain, into the sewers where he’ll rot among the rats like he deserves.

The rain absolves you and Flip of the muck and grime of the deed, and now that it’s over, now that he’s gone, you close your eyes and tilt your head up towards the sky, letting the rain patter down onto your cheeks, your forehead. You feel clean, though you are cold, so so so cold, the only thing you can focus on is the cleanliness, the relief.

“You never should have fucked with her.” You hear Flip say, and that makes you open your eyes, makes your turn towards him.

Flip looks down to the drain, and you smile, because he looks lighter too.

                                            ---------------------------

You’re leaving the lumbermill, when it hits.

You’d been so caught up in the euphoria of getting rid of him, of this man who had made your life a living nightmare for far too long – that you hadn’t stopped once to think of the consequences of these actions.

“I – holy shit I can’t believe we did that.” It slams into your chest, the realization that you’re a murderer, you’re both murderers, you’re going to go to prison for this, they’ll send you to the chair for this, they’ll kill you for this the same way you killed Josh. Your heart races, pounds pounds pounds as dread and terror and fear all come rushing back, all come slamming down inside your brain. “What the fuck did we just do? Flip what did we do?”

Flip must have willpower of steel, because he doesn’t even blink when you whip around to face him, when you immediately freak the fuck out, when you start to hyperventilate, holding the sides of your head.

“It’s okay, it’s fine. Things like this happen. It was an accident that spiraled out of control, it wasn’t your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Flip is calm, so calm, and that almost freaks you out more, maybe you were going to scream, maybe you were already screaming, you don’t know, you don’t know anything except you just murdered a man.

“Oh my god what are they going to say when he doesn’t come back to the party? Or go home?” You panic, shifting around too much in your seat, legs bouncing, back aching from the way you keep twisting and turning, “What’ll they do if they find the pieces of him?”

“You have to breathe it’s going to be okay, we’ll be okay – fuck, what was that?” Flip is cut off by a loud thud, the car coming to a complete stop.

Your eyes begin to well up with tears as you hiccup out terror, hands shaking. You want to slam your fists against the window, want to throw yourself onto the street and beg for forgiveness, you want to be sick, you want to tell Flip to drive and never look back.

“Oh no, oh no no no this is it, this is the karma catching up to us already.” You can feel the tethers of reality start to slip, black splotches dancing in front of your vision – will you pass out? Are you at your limit? You don’t know, you don’t know but the car isn’t moving, it’s not going anywhere no matter how hard Flip pushes on the gas pedal.

“Stay here.” He says, and you’re in no mood, no state to defy the instructions now.

Flip puts the car in park, gets out and shuts the door so water doesn’t come pouring in. You watch him through the warped view of rain on the windows as he walks around the car, his hands on his hips, trying to figure out what the fuck happened.

It doesn’t take him too long to find the problem, and he comes back into the car with a sigh, soaking wet and unsure of what to do.

“We’re stuck.” He tells you, and that’s the last thing you want to hear. A flat tire you knew he could change, even in the rain like this, but being stuck left nothing to do except wait for someone to come un-stick you.

“So we’re stranded out here?” Your voice creeps up higher and higher in octave as the consequences of that stab you through the chest.

You never should have snuck out of home, you lament, hot tears finally stinging the rims of your eyes. You never should have left home through your window, never should have agreed to the party. You never should have agreed to date this fucking guy, you think, because if you hadn’t maybe you’d be safe and warm somewhere, maybe you’d be asleep soundly in your bed and not stranded in the pouring rain, in the middle of you don’t even know where.  

“Yes but – but this is good. This is good, this is our alibi. We don’t know anything, because we were stranded in the middle of fucking nowhere in a ditch.” Flip knows you’re freaking out, he knows, he can feel it, can see it, it’s happening right in front of him.

“Wh—what will we say that we were even doing out here? What if someone asks why we’re here in the first place?” Your whole body wracks through with terrified sobs. “They’re going to kill us for this, Flip if they catch us they’re going to kill us – I don’t want to die, I don’t --”

He collects you in his arms and holds you tightly against his chest, rocks you to soothe you, calms you. The rain is unrelenting, and you wonder how much water the sky can hold, how many clouds are up there to maintain such a downpour. Flip’s arms are so warm around your shoulders, and his neck is blazing hot where you tuck your face against it.

“You called me to pick you up from the party, I came, we got lost, wound up here. It’s dark and raining, that’s all the truth.” Flip whispers, “We don’t know anything, we’ve been here, waiting for someone to pass by.”

You nod, because it’s all you can do right now. You had almost forgotten how cold you were, the stark comparison of your own body temperature compared to Flip’s making you feel even colder.

“I’m f-f-freezing.” You say, because you don’t have anything else to say, and Flip hums in the back of his throat.

“I don’t have any spare clothes, I’m sorry.” He frowns, but then you pull away for a moment, begin stripping off your dress. You peel away the layers until you’re in your bra and underwear, just wanting the wet cold fabric off of your skin. Flip’s hands drop from your body, and he nervously looks away with a very gentlemanly, “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry – I just – I figured maybe if we use body heat – ” You explained, suddenly feeling stupid, feeling unwanted, feeling --

“Don’t stop, I’ll do it too, if you want. I’ll keep you warm.” Flip nods, understands what you’re doing now, what you mean. He looks at you cautiously, not ever wanting to be imposing, not wanting to make you comfortable. “Only if you want.”

You lick your lips and nod, and in mere moments, he’s shedding his clothes too, until he’s just in his underwear.

Flip climbs over the bench seat and lands in the back, laying down on his back and spreading out. There’s significantly more room in the back seat, and without another thought, you unclip the straps of your bra, letting your breasts breathe, before arranging all the clothes in the direct line of the heater so they might have a chance to dry, before climbing over too.

Flip welcomes you with open arms, and as you settle against him, body flush with his, your heart pounds. He rubs your back, warms you with his palms, palms which feel like the most comforting iron brand, heating you through.

“You know…” You whisper, listening to the sound of his breathing and the rain that pitter-patters onto the roof of the car, “I’ve been thinking about doing something like that to him for a long time.”

“Yeah?” Flip asks, voice thick.

You’re nuzzled against his chest, feeling the most safe that you ever have. The panic has subsided for now, for now at the very least.

“Yeah. It was never a real idea that I had, at least not in the beginning. But more and more lately, I’ve been thinking about how good it would feel if he were gone forever. I don’t know what I ever saw in him. I guess I just…I liked that someone liked me, wanted me. It felt good to be wanted, for a minute there.” You’re honest with Flip. Sometimes it feels like Flip is the only person you can ever be honest with.

“Just a minute?” He asks softly, teasing and playful in a way that makes you want to cry.

“Yeah, just a minute.” You whisper back, propping your head up onto your hands, looking at him.

“There are…other people, you know. Who are out there, who like you. Want you.” He looks back at you, eyes filled with apprehension, but hope.

“People like you?” You ask, hope in your own lungs, in your heart.

“Yeah, people like me.” Flip nods, caresses the back of your head with his strong, capable hand.

“You know, the entire time I’ve been with him, I wished I were with you.” You confess, because now feels like as good a time to confess something as any, doesn’t it? What’s this admittance, compared to the thing you have just done together?

“This isn’t the shock talking, is it?” Flip’s hand smooths around to hold your cheek, pinch at the apple of your smile, because you are smiling now, smiling how he hasn’t rejected you, how he never would have, now you know.

“No, no I promise. This is me talking.” You turn your face into his palm and press a light kiss to the creases in his hand, those hands, the hands which have only ever protected you, defended you, loved you.

“Why are you crying?” Flip frowns, confused, worried, but you shake your head, unable to stop, unable to quit the smile, the tears.

“Because I’ve dreamt about being in your arms like this for what feels like forever, and I – I kept thinking that there’s no way you could ever want me, I thought I was just delusional for thinking maybe we could be something. And here you are, coming to my rescue, the way you always do, and we’ve just killed a man but all I want to do is kiss you.” You huff out a laugh, a laugh that’s tinged with regret for the past, all the time that could have been.  

“Can I?” Flip asks suddenly then, innocent and gentle, “Can I kiss you?”

“Oh Flip, yes, please.” You nod, pushing yourself up a few more inches so that your lips can meet.

They press together in the softest, sweetest of kisses, and all at once it feels like the gates of your heart have been unlocked, and all the love you feel flows out with wild abandon.

Flip deepens the kiss when your mouth opens in a small gasp, and you let yourself be rolled underneath him. The car rocks a little from the effort, but you don’t care. A kiss or two becomes making out, and you feel your head fill with the thick perfume of lust, your whole body warm now, on fire almost. His mouth is hot, tongue thick and heavy against yours, but he tastes delicious, tastes like home.

He kisses you until your breathing begins to quicken, until the smallest noises start to moan and hum in the back of your throat. Your nipples are stiff, so hard from where they’re brushing against his chest, your arms looping around his shoulders, legs parting so he can settle between them.

“Did…did you two ever…?” He pulls away, lips kiss-slick and flushed, and you blink, forgetting all about your boyfriend, or one you used to have.

“No, no I didn’t want to, it didn’t feel right. Not with him.” You tell him honestly, suddenly feeling inexperienced, feeling self-conscious, “Have you?”

“No, I’ve been waiting for the right person.” Flip shocks you by blushing out his own truth. Your eyebrows shoot up, you really would have pegged him for a womanizer type, he was certainly handsome enough for it. But thinking back, you realize in all the time you’ve known him, he’s never once mentioned a girlfriend or even a fling, nothing. It’s always just been you, and him. Flip blushes deeper when you don’t say anything right away, stammers out, “I know it’s cheesy.”

“It’s not cheesy.” You shake your head quickly, dismissing the idea that you’d make fun of him for something like that. You’re relived, it means you can be together for the first time truly together.

You kiss him, invigorated, no longer feeling shy or inadequate. He kisses you back, and when your eyes close there’s nothing but the welcoming embrace of his warmth and affection to pull you in. Your mouths and tongues slide against one another, and your hips raise up, your underwear rubbing against his, wishing there were no barrier between you.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, I don’t ever want to pressure you or – ” Flip shakes his head, so caring, worried, nipping at the corners of your mouth.

“Maybe, maybe you could just touch me? Just for now, touch me and then, then we can see where we go.” You’re desperate for him though, desperate for him in every way.

He smiles against your mouth, and you smile too, his hands sliding down your body. He shuffles back a little, straddling your hips, knees digging into the upholstery as his hands roam your body, touch where he didn’t have permission to touch before.

He’s drawn to your breasts immediately, kneads them. He licks his lips and rolls your nipples between his fingers, and your back only arches for him, pushes your chest up into his hands further. His breathing is heavy, and you decide that you’re tired of holding yourself back from the things that you want – after this, after tonight, you won’t deny yourself anything ever again, you’ve spent so much time bending to the will of other people, from now on you are going to ask for what you want.

You cup the back of Flip’s head and push him down, gently nudge him. He takes the hint, immediately nuzzles his face into your cleavage, rubs against your breasts. His mouth latches around one of your nipples and he kisses and licks and sucks, and you moan, the pleasure going straight to your pussy.

So does his hand, tentatively skimming over your panties until your legs spread enough to give him permission. He tugs the cotton aside and you hiccup out a little cry of pleasure when he reverently pushes his fingers through your folds, pushes his way through into the tight wet heat of your cunt.

“Oh, oh, that feels good.” Your eyes fly open, hand tangling in his hair where he makes out with your breasts, grunting and groaning with need that the praise spurs in him. His fingers are more insistent, more purposeful, and his thumb swirls over your clit making your hips lift up up up against his hand. “Yes, yes! Flip – do that again, please do that again.”

“Good?” Flip lifts his head from where he’s been smothering himself in your tits, eyes so big and brown, eager to please.

“So good! Phil, it’s so good, I’ve wanted this for so – ah!—long.” Your head tips back against the seat as your toes curl, his fingers moving faster, your stomach expanding with each deep breath you take, trying to suck down the air, trying to lose yourself in the bright white hot light of pleasure.

“This doesn’t count as our first time, okay?” Flip bites a mark around the bottom of your ribs.

“Okay.” You grin, elated that this means maybe maybe maybe he’ll want to have sex with you again, maybe he’ll fuck you with his cock. Maybe he’ll want you forever, maybe he’ll ask you out and take you on dates and do all the things that you’ve always hoped but never dared to dream for.

“I want our first time to be sweet and good and gentle, and not in the back-seat of this car.” He fingers you faster and faster, and you struggle to pay attention to his words because his fingers are so thick and so full and they know just where to touch you to get your feet searching for purchase as you moan and whine and gasp. “I’m going to take you out to dinner and then a movie, and then I’m going to make love to you on a big bed with rose petals like you deserve.”

“Oh fuck – I’m – I’m gonna – ” You gasp out, hips rolling, undulating against his palm, grinding your pussy against the warmth of his hand to chase your orgasm, your body thick with pleasure, sweet and sticky like molasses in your veins.

“Come on my fingers, it’s okay, you’re okay.” Flip encourages you, presses a little harder, moves a little faster, the car shaking shaking shaking from the way your body trembles, rain thudding against the roof as your orgasm crashes through you, a wave of nothing but good, nothing but love.

“Fl-Flip!” You shout, eyes shut tight, the first couple hints of tears clinging to your lashes.

“You’re so beautiful, holy shit.” Flip strokes your pussy through it, coaxes out come that shines on his palm, shimmers on your inner thighs. He kisses your neck, your chest, bites and sucks and marks you so thoroughly, marks you as his, you’re his you’re his and he’s yours and, “(Y/N) you’re – you’re so beautiful.”

“Can I, I want you to come too, I want you to feel good too.” You try, you offer, but he’s still sliding his fingers through your pussy, two – no, three? -- stretching you wide, stretching you for him, for his cock. You want it, you want it so badly, want to be filled, but an aftershock of pleasure builds builds builds and you’re not sure it’s just an aftershock anymore, as your toes curl again, knees shaking, bones aching to come again, “Flip I’m, I think I’m – oh!”

“No, it’s okay, you don’t have to do anything for me, this is more than enough, you’re more than enough, thankyouthankyouthankyou.” He smudges the words into your chest, your throat, litters you with sweet nothings and gratitude, and you want to ask for his dick right then and there –

But there’s a sound, coming from the window.

A knock on the window.

Someone is there, knocking.

“Wait – what was that?” You freeze, the rose-tinted glasses ripped off.

Flip carefully pulls his hand away from your pulsing cunt, sucks your come off of his fingers until they’re clean. He reaches for something, anything, to cover you with, to cover himself with.  

“Cop.” Flip says quietly, and you want to panic but he shakes his head, “Don’t, it’s okay, follow my lead.”

You are suddenly very very aware, of what you both look like. Flip with his torn up fists, you with the split lip and wound on your temple. You’ve both finally stopped bleeding, but you know – you just know – that this officer is going to question you on it, normal people don’t go driving around in the rain with head wounds and split knuckles.

Fuck, you think, you haven’t even cleaned the car yet, there’s bound to be blood in the trunk from where the body had been stashed, what if the officer decided to search the car? There were no weapons in the car, but there didn’t need to be. Your stomach does little flutters of panic as the impending anxiety drips cold down your spine, and just hide yourself behind Flip’s denim jacket, cover up as much as you can, cover your face.

Flip rolls down the window, and a flashlight peers inside the car for a few moments, before you hear a resigned sigh.

“Alright you kids, come on, break it up.” The cop says, tapping his flashlight on the roof of the car. “The middle of the road isn’t the place for this kind of shit, let’s go.”

“Our car is stuck, we’ve been waiting for someone to drive past to ask for help. Could you help give us a push?” Flip asks, and the officer looks at him like he’s crazy.

“No.” The man scoffs, before sighing again, realizing that he can’t just leave the two of you out here. “But I’ll call someone. Then off you go, okay? It’s late.”

“Thank you.” Flip says, and then, like some miracle, the cop goes back to his car, radios for a tow, and leaves.

                                            ---------------------------

You both are dressed by the time the tow arrives and pulls you out of the mud. Leaving the clothes in front of the heater did wonders, and though your dress is still fucking filthy and caked in mud, it’s not freezing, or soaked. You feel awful, Flip’s dad is going to be pissed when he sees the car like this, but Flip assures you that he’ll have Jimmy help deep clean the whole thing before his parents come home after the weekend.

The tow truck driver doesn’t ask any questions, doesn’t really talk to you at all. By the time he arrives, the rain has stopped, slowed enough as the storms moved across the mountains. You don’t say anything, just sit there and wait for the wheels to come free, holding your breath until the tow driver leaves too.

The radio is soft and gentle, the time on the little clock reads just past three. Flip drove all the way to your house with a hand on your knee, reassuring, comforting. You can’t help but think it feels so different from Josh’s hand, how gentle Flip’s hold is on you. You wonder if he’s trying to ground himself, or keep you calm. Maybe it’s both.

He shuts the lights off and the radio when he rounds the corner. Puts the car in park, and the two of you walk the last few yards to your house. It’s not raining anymore, not at all. That feels like a good sign, somehow.

“Will you come in?” You ask him softly, standing under the streetlamps, careful not to step on cracks in the sidewalk.

“If you want me.” Flip nods, and you smile, and he smiles, because you both know that you always will.

The climb up through the window is a little difficult because of how wet everything is from the rain, but you both manage easily. Your bedroom is warm, and you both shed your clothes in the tub of your private bathroom, knowing your parents wouldn’t ever look in there. You want to shower desperately, but doing so this late would raise suspicion, so you don’t, you’ll have to wait until morning.

But that’s alright, because for now it’s enough to be in clean clothes. Sheepishly, you offer Flip some of his own clothes, clothes that you’ve accumulated over all the time you’ve known him; jackets accidentally forgotten on your couch, sleep shirts and pajama pants he let you borrow that you never returned.

Flip doesn’t tease you for them, he only accepts them gratefully, and the two of you lay down on your bed in the dark. You face one another, so close that your noses almost touch. He’s so handsome, you think. You’ve always thought it, but up close, this close, it’s like the thought consumes your whole mind.

“We can’t ever tell anyone about this, ever. Not even when we’re old. This is something we take to the grave.” You whisper, rubbing the tip of your nose against his.

“Agreed.” He breathes, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. You lean into the touch, lean into him.

“I don’t want to think what would have happened if you didn’t show up.” You confess, and in the silence of the room, the thought of what might have been is more terrifying than anything you two had done together. Flip is quiet, but his jaw clenches as he gently touches the closed wound on your temple. You don’t know what prompts it, but suddenly you’re asking, “Do you believe in alternate universes?”

“Hm?” Flip frowns, and you shrug in the dark.

“You know, like, a different version of our world, existing in some other dimension out in space.” You explain, shuffling close to him, tucking yourself under his chin.

“I never thought about it.” He admits with a shrug of his own and you close your eyes against his throat, warming yourself with his heat as his arms wrap around you.

“Maybe there’s a world where this never happened.” You whisper, “Maybe there’s a version of us out there that never had to do this. Maybe there’s a universe where we’ve always been together.”

“We can be together now, here in this one. If you want.” Flip whispers back, and you can feel the rabbit of his pulse jump jump jumping in his chest, and you smile.

“Phil?” You ask, not opening your eyes, not moving, barely breathing, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He responds right away, with enough feeling behind the words to make you think that maybe he’s loved you just as long as you have loved him, maybe even longer.

A grin spreads across your face as you snuggle up closer to him, impossibly close, suppressing a thrilled little bubble of laughter as he cards his fingers through your hair.

“You’re stuck with me now, you know that? Forever.” You tease with a smile in your voice – but you both know there’s some truth to it. No matter what happens, you’re bonded by this, this nightmare of an evening.

“Happy New Year, (Y/N).” Flip teases right back, kissing the top of your head, before you reach up to kiss him properly.

                                            ---------------------------

When the sun rises the next morning and you find him gone from your bedroom, tub empty of soiled clothing and the car driven away to the cleaners, you aren’t afraid, because there’s a note on your nightstand written in the most incomprehensible handwriting that could only be Flip’s, asking you on a date, and a brand new pair of heels to wear for it.

And when they ask about Josh you’ll say you don’t know, and when they launch the investigation you’ll testify lies, and when you attend his funeral you might shed a tear, but only only only if Flip’s there by your side, so you can stand behind him, and hide your smile.

You don't own me

I'm not just one of your many toys

You don't own me

Don't say I can't go with other boys

You don't own me

You don’t own me

You don’t own me.

                                            ---------------------------

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[sunseteyes]

THE WINTER I SAW YOUR SMILE

ㅤㅤ ↪︎ STARRING: neito monoma; gn!reader

ㅤㅤ ↪︎ THEMES: fluff, enemies to lovers—more like idiots friends to lovers honestly

ㅤㅤ ↪︎ WORD COUNT: 2, 101 words

ㅤㅤ ↪︎ SYNOPSIS: like perry the platypus to doofenshmirtz, joker to batman, or even conan to kaitō kid, for you, neito was your archenemy. but why is it that no one ever asked neito what he thought of you?

ㅤㅤ ↪︎ INTERMISSION: this is an entry for our server collab secret santa! merry merry christmas @dimplesum i hope you’ll enjoy my gift for you~ also, thank you to @imahoeforanimeguys for beta reading this :D

[12:51 AM]

if there was one person who could understand neito well, itsuka kendou would say it would be you.

you have known neito monoma ever since you were children, maybe much more than anyone would, even if they were his new friends. no matter how much they knew him, it would always be you who knew him better, the best.

it was not because you were his childhood bestfriend, or sweetheart, or any of that sappy story seen in disney movies or romance novels. your and neito’s story is far too easy to understand than any of those for it can be summarized by the word “archenemy,” like perry the platypus to doofenshmirtz, or joker to batman, or maybe even conan to kaitou kid—yes, you were kind of addicted to that show for quite some time.

along with being neito’s archenemy comes with knowing full well what ticks him off and also what makes him feel pleased. basically, that knowledge became the reason why everyone knows you’re the one who has the better hand when it comes to neito in general.

so when did you two first treat each other like archenemies?

it started when you two were still in kindergarten, was it? you’ve known each other for so long that it still surprises you how you and neito still see and even talk to one another. you could barely remember how and when exactly the scene played about at that time, but there were bits of memories where it was him who started to get on your bad side. although on neito’s defense, it was actually you when you started commenting on his hairstyle back in the days. after all, he used to sport a straight cut of bangs back then and it was the very thing that got stuck in your mind and couldn’t help but let it out every single time you see neito’s face, no matter how much he had physically changed from the boy you used to know.

being neito’s archenemy consists of constant teases, banters, glares, smirks, and being scolded by someone—usually a teacher or a mutual friend of yours, which is kendou, since tetsutetsu joins into the arguments too, which leaves kendou to babysit the four of you.

it’s not as if you were always arguing or at each other’s throats though. people even say you two make a good team, but it will only lead to neito and you teasing each other on how the other is flustered by such a statement. you do admit that there is a wave of relief that washes over your chest whenever you hear those words, but you could never find yourself letting out that kind of confession especially since it would wound your pride, and boost someone’s ego—ehem, neito. you have no specific reason why it calms you down to have someone say those about you two, but it may be because it thrills you to have someone else tease neito, however it also gives way for him to tease you as well, so you have rather conflicting thoughts when it comes to that matter.

by the time neito and you had reached high school though, you knew something changed.

was it how the glares started softening a bit? was it when the bickers would shorten whenever one of you decides to give in to the other? people commented on how you two became more mature, but for some reason, you knew there was another reason why this came to be, something you dare not say nor even think about, not that it should matter anyway.

the knocking on the door startled you awake from your thoughts, suddenly urging you to stand from the sofa to answer whoever was on the right mind to knock on your apartment at half past 12, or wait is it 1 AM already? either way, it’s too late for anyone to try and visit you, unless it’s someone who has bad intentions, but would they really knock if they have? still, there’s nothing wrong to be cautious, especially during these days.

“neito?” the rush of words came out of your lips sooner than you had the time to shut yourself, it was also louder than intended that’s why the other person on the other side of the door was able to hear it loud and clear.

“(y/n)! you’re there, right? could you let me in? it’s freezing out here!”

“and why would i?” you retort back, already gripping on the knob to turn it and reveal neito’s figure right in front of you. “what the hell are you doing here? at this hour even?”

and yet, he ignored you, entering your complex, then pushing you aside as he enjoyed the warmth that your apartment provided, with you closing the door behind in order to give him a long, contemplating look.

he seemed like he came from somewhere else, considering that the way he dresses up for home and for outside activity were different and quite unique by themselves. you noticed it after a few times of seeing him stay by your apartment with your other friends, or when you all go out to shop, have a meal, or stop by some place itsuka had found. you two were always on the same friendship circle, you noticed, yet it had never occurred where you and him stayed in one place all alone, after all you two were considered as “archenemies” still, aren’t you?

“i’m asking you what you’re doing here, monoma.” you bluntly questioned, making sure to emphasize how you’ve said his name. whenever you call him by his surname, he and you both know that you were pissed—or coming to. and like any other time, he chose to make a comeback as well, just as you had expected.

“it’s freezing outside, (y/n), do you want me to die? come on, be a kind person for once.”

“i am a kind person, monoma, but as far as i know, you don’t usually barge into people’s homes at around 1 AM.”

he scoffs, still rubbing his gloved hands together, trying to warm them up from the temperature winter brought upon december. “it’s just 12:51, and you’re not just any people. aren’t we friends?”

it was your turn to scoff, bringing your grasps on your waist, leaning to the side as you raise your brows in utter disbelief. “friends? no we’re not, what are you talking about.”

it was the truth, anyway. even though you’ve treated him as an archenemy, throughout the years, you were friends with neito, it just so happens that you treat each other quite differently than most friends do, that’s why you chose to name it as a word that others don’t frequently use. who calls their friends an archenemy? probably only you, or some others too—maybe.

“hey (y/n), do you have any snacks, ramen perhaps?”

your eyes narrow at the sight of neito rummaging through your kitchen, already knowing his way around. how can you blame him when he had already visited the apartment a couple of times with itsuka, tetsutetsu, and a few other friends that you’ve had over the years.

sighing to yourself, you leaned to one of the counters as you watched him, now cooking not just a pack, but two packs of ramen—that was, mind you, yours. each and every equipment and whatever he was using was yours, and it should infuriate you, your mind tells you so. however, you just seemingly can’t.

“you should pay for those, including my gas, neito.” you muse to the boy, his back turned to you as he continued preparing the ramen that he was preparing for the both of you, the sight apparently engraving itself on your mind whenever you have the chance to look at your kitchen. what can you say? he looks good while doing stuff like these, and you wouldn’t mind having to see him do so next time, that’s if you would have the chance since you would bite your tongue before you could even confess about it.

“you know, i’m this close to thinking that you really hate me, (y/n).”

your brow raised, momentarily catching his eyes when he briefly glanced at you. “why’s that?”

“well for one, you’re treating me as some kind of enemy of some sort. we should be allies, you know.”

“yeah but you’re the one who always starts the argument first, neito.”

he chuckles then, leaning to the side as he sends a look to you, one that is glinted with slight mock and amusement, like per usual. “that’s because you’re so easy to rile up. you always have these puffy cheeks and narrowed eyes when you do,” he gestures to his own face and he suddenly laughs, pointing at you with a spoon. “-yeah! just like that!” he hollers, making your brows furrow even more, now glaring daggers at him.

“shut up.”

neito kept on laughing to himself and he only stopped when it was time to turn the gas off and take the saucepan out of the casserole, bringing it swiftly to the table where he lay it on top of a pot rest. it was also him who rushed to get bowls and utensils for each of you, which led you to simply sit down by the table, feeling a little bit awkward at how he basically served you and did the table for you. if you didn’t zipped your lips tight, you would’ve said how much you’d like to get used to this kind of treatment from him.

“what are you waiting for? dig in! it’s not like i put poison in it.” he chimes, getting his own part of the ramen and eating them in almost an instant that you were quite sure he must have been starving when he got here.

“what were you doing out, anyway? were you on a date?” the words slipped your mind as you ate, your eyes glanced down to the food, finding it difficult to look at him in the eye after such a question.

“hm? what if i tell you i was?”

you forced yourself to let out a shrug, still not meeting his gaze that was surely on yours. “it’s not like i care.”

he scoffs and chuckles—which was it, you have got no clue—one of the rare times when you seem unable to read neito’s actions.

“you’re acting like you do though.” he mutters as his smirk reached his ears, patting the chopsticks to his lips as he tried to intimidate you.

it was silent for a couple more seconds before you decided to break it, meeting his eyes with one of an uncertain gaze, almost wanting to look away immediately.

“why are you acting like we’re suddenly close, is this how you are after a date?” you questioned, hiding your hesitation by taking a bite of your ramen, letting its warmth travel down to your chest and your stomach, in hopes of comforting you in some way.

“you must be misunderstanding me, (y/n).” this time, his face was looking dead serious, no more smirk and glints of mischief by his irises, as if he had a change of mind in an instant. “i wasn’t on a date. i am on a date.”

your breath faltered and your movements came to a halt, the chopsticks and your hand raised on a level that left it hanging by the air, just like how the atmosphere stilled the moment you heard the words coming out of neito’s lips.

“what?”

“i said, i am on a date.” he points to you with his own utensil, gesturing for both of you. “we are on a date.”

“uh-when did i-”

“and before you react, i’m just here to clarify that i already know you like me, that’s why you’re acting like this.”

your mouth opened to react and retaliate, but you only looked at him in disbelief, watching his nose crinkle up in delight, the corners of his eyes curling as he grins, his hair slightly swaying softly at the smallest signs of his movements.

now he might be damn right that you like him, but it’s not as if you’ve realized it that long. still, your voice didn’t let you fight him back because he seemed to be enjoying his own bubble—one that he was gladly sharing to you right now. you’ll have to clarify his statement from earlier soon, but not now perhaps. because now, he looks so pretty with that smile, and you’d rather be teased than having to rid of a sight like that.

[franeridart]

Anon said: Opinions on Ochamina?

Cute soft and pink! Would be my main ship for those two if I didn’t ship seromina and ochadeku as hard as I do

Anon said: Hi there i was just wondering if its okay to ask you some questions about your art tools i work on paper a lot but i want to switch to digital art and want to know what to buy to get started you know?? if its not okay to ask thats fine, have a nice day!

I use Easy Pain Tool SAI and a wacom tablet so old I’m pretty sure they don’t even make them anymore haha if you’re just starting then anything is fine, really! The first thing you’ll need to do will be to get used to the feel of it, you won’t need anything fancy for that imho

Anon said: Yet again, I’m sleepy and feeling sappy so I luv youwu~

Awwww thank you so much!!! <3<3

Anon said: well guess who now has A LOT OF FEELINGS about Seromina after your reply? This anon. Holy, now I need like all the content about them. *goes of in search* Thank you for sharing your headcanon because it made me feel a lot of fluffy feelings!! Which yay!! I need more fluffly feelings in my life!! Also love love love your art. All of it original content and everything else (with a very soft sport for kiribaku and the bakusquad)

Ah heck thank you!!! And I’m very very glad to see I could make you see why I like them!!! :D

Anon said: how do you draw hair? i keep trying digitally, but it just seems so difficult! i tend to have so much trouble because i keep comparing myself to artists like you and the way you draw/shade/highlight hair is such a mystery to me!

Hmmmmm this is a hard question because I honestly mostly just go by gut feeling - I try to keep in mind gravity when it’s applicable (aka when it’s not gravity-defying hairstyles like kiri and baku’s)? But that’s the most conscious thought I put in it by this point. This might be an annoying advice to get but as always my only proper one is to look at real life people and study the way hair naturally falls on them, studying from real life is always the fastest way to learn how to draw something as far as my experience goes... and this one is gonna be hard but try not to compare yourself too much to others? Doing things your own way at your own pace will make the learning process a lot more fun!

Anon said: opinon on the lack of kiribaku interactions in the show recently? they have been interacting less and less since the provisional exam arc :( and even lesser in the manga. i miss my bois but bless you for the content omg😭💞

The truth is that they haven’t been the protagonists of an arc at the same time for so long that they’ve had little to no reason to interact with each other, and also that when Hori has characters interacting with them in the background it’s usually to have them reprimend them or tell them to shut up and at first they covered that role for each other but now they’re such good friends that all their interactions end up being them being nice to each other and Horikoshi needs his silly sketches thrown in the background at any possible moment so now Kaminari is the one you’ll see interacting with them the most, because he’s silly and doesn’t mind being a dick to either of them whenever given the chance. Or at least that’s the conclusion I came to after rereading the manga a couple months back. On the bright side they HAVE started interacting more again! We’ve been seeing them often just chilling together in the background, so cute, I love them best friends ;;;

Anon said: User kawaiiastar has reposted some of ur art just wanna let u know :)

Thank you for letting me know, I’ll look into it and see if I can get it removed orz

Anon said: ur drawings are so warm but like?? i just realized how much u talk in the tags and so ive been reading them and they actually add alot to ur art and its entertaining. idk just a little thing :) never stop doing krbk aus if you enjoy them!! would love to see stucky and soul eater if you can !! and i hear u about the reposters. they are all over instagram and its honestly quite upsetting. ive heard of artists that left the fandom because of it which is unfortunate. hope you are having a great day!

Hahaha I’m glad you like my talking too much in the tags since sometimes I just can’t avoid it lmao I have many things to say about my stuff most time than not..... anyway, I hope you’ll have a wonderful day too!

Anon said: i fight instagramers every day for you 💞

Thank you ;;;;;;;;

Anon said:  I love you so please stay safe!!

Thank you!!! I hope you’ll stay safe too, anon!!!

Anon said: During quarantine all I have to look forward to is your posts, it’s always great to check tumblr for the 14th time and see a new post by you.

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; heck, I’m so glad I can make this tiring time a little more pleasant to you, anon!! <3

Anon said: I have class (online) at 8am and it’s currently 3:42am yet I couldn’t stop scrolling on your page!!! I’ve been going through the tags for like 30 minutes omg. I came to look at your seromina stuff and now I’m looking at EVERYTHING. I’ve been following you for so long and I love your art so much I’m screaming! I’m literally accidentally unliking then liking everything again cuz I’ve seen it all and keep forgetting I already liked it! Your account is like food for my soul ily!!!!! Thank you sm!!!

Ahhhhh anon thank you so so much!!!! You’re so kind I’m gonna tear up TTATT please do try to sleep next time you have to wake up early!!

Anon said: I read a headcanon saying Bakugo smoked. That would never happen because Kirishima would kill him.

To be fair that would never happen because he straight up said so in the first chapter of the manga lmao but I’m of the opinion that if people want to ignore canon in their headcanons to have fun they have all the power to do so!

Anon said: Idk if you’ve been asked this before, but how do you feel about Momo x Jirou? :D and I love your art!

One of my top Jirou ships! I’ve drawn stuff for them in the past actually, they’re in my momojirou tag!

Anon said: I love you way more than it’s healthy.

Thank you ;;;;;;;;; I love you a whole damn lot too, anon <3<3

[burnedbyshoto]

Connection

pairing: kirishima ejiriou x reader

warning: fluff, cuss words

word count: 1,081

a/n: I was feeling in a little kiri mood and I did a short little thingy for him!!!! hehe :D

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

“What’s your wifi password?”

It was Saturday night and for the first time ever Kirishima and you were at his apartment to work on paperwork. Typically, the two of you would go to your place because it was closer to the two of your agencies. Your place was currently going through some renovations, Kirishima’s place was your hangout.

Kirishima Eijirou was the man who held your affections. He was as strong as he was kind, and every moment you shared with him never failed to make you feel better. You had figured out your feelings for him during high school, but one year after graduating you had still yet to say anything about it. There was no way of knowing if he had feelings for you as you didn’t admit to anyone that you liked him. So here you stayed waiting for some detail to figure out if he liked you.

Your face scrunched as you stared at the blank wifi symbol on your laptop. You looked over at the red-haired man who was currently putting together a snack plate for the two of you. Kirishima was walking around in a black tank top and grey sweats. His typical hairstyle was down and a bandana was wrapped around his forehead.

You looked at the redhead who was now stiff as he looked at you. His eyes shifted before he laughed, “I’ll put it in for you, don’t worry about it!”

“It’s okay! Just tell me, I’m ready!” You pull your laptop closer to you as Kirishima walks over to stand behind you. You glance up at Kirishima who now rests against the back of the chair. You can feel a fire burning under your cheeks at him being so close. ignoring that feeling you turn around to look at your screen. “Tell me or I’ll start guessing!”

“I don’t think you’re going to be able to guess it,” he chuckles as he leans in closer to you. Kirishima’s finger points at the screen, “go ahead.”

“That’s where you’re wrong! Your cocky confidence is obviously a side effect of being close to Bakugou, and now prepare to die in embarrassment!” You tease as you roll out your shoulders, moving your fingers onto the keys as you stare at the screen. “Attempt one, Crimson Riot!”

The screen showed it was wrong.

“Not even close,” Kirishima laughs as he leans in closer. “It was that at one point, I won’t lie! I just hope you realize that you’re not going to get it.”

“Okay, 2444666668888888?” You ask as you type in the plenty numbers only for it to be wrong.

“I know that’s Kaminari’s password,” Kirishima laughs as his forearms rest softly against your shoulders.

“Don’t ask for my fucking password,” you say as you type it in as you speak. Wrong again.

“That’s Bakugou’s!” Kirishima snorts as you sigh heavily.

“Pretty in Pink?”

“That's Mina’s. Saying everyone’s wifi passwords isn’t going to give you the right answer, y/n.”

“Sounds like something someone who steals other people’s passwords that I know would say,” you giggle as you type in one last one you knew. “Cellophane Cellophone?”

“Sero’s is pretty funny to me!” Kirishima says squeezing your shoulder. “But you are still wrong.”

“Damn, I love how I know everyone’s password but yours!” You exclaim as you shake your head. “I think I deserve to know, you know mine!”

Kirishima smiled down at you, his fingers apologetically squeezing your shoulder. “It’s not something I’m going to tell you anytime soon, sorry y/n.”

“Oh really?” You laugh as you turn back around and sigh. “What could it be? I bet it’s my birthday!” You chortle as you jokingly type in your birthdate and press enter well before Kirishima could stop you.

Your eyes watch the turning wheel and you wait for the error message to come through.

Instead of a failure message, the icon on the top of your laptop flared to full bars, the password was accepted. You were connected to Kirishima’s wifi.

You connected to his wifi… by using your birthday.

This had to be a joke, right?

Was this real?

You turned around and saw Kirishima now at the wall, his face as red as his face as he shook his arms around. “I-I can explain!” Kirishima yelps as he looks everywhere but you. “Uhh… well, you were texting me when I needed it changed and yeah! Word association!”

A warm smile spreads across your face as you shake your head, “I’m waiting for the actual truth!”

“I’m trying to think of one that’s not so weird,” Kirishima laughs as his palms cover his face. “This is so unmanly of me, I’m so sorry.”

The grin on your mouth grows as you stand up walking over to Kirishima who lets his hands drop to his sides. His eyes drowning in embarrassment as he glances at you with a shaky smile.

“Do you like me?” You ask as your fingers touch his arms. His muscles tense under your touch as Kirishima flinches and you move closer to him, your hands resting on his shoulders. “I can’t think of any other reason why I’m your wifi password.”

Kirishima stares down at you, his tongue poking out to lick his lips as he breathes in heavily. You watch as his head nods slowly, his hands hesitantly touching your waist.

“I do have feelings for you.”

“That’s good to hear,” you giggle as your fingers lock behind his neck. “I have to say, I do hope my name is being used as your other passwords too.”

“I had to temporarily change my password! I used your birthday, and I just… didn’t want to change it back,” Kirishima murmurs as your face draws closer to him.

“Likely story,” you tease as you watch his eyelashes flutter. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please?” Kirishima whispers as your lips connect with yours in a soft embrace.

His lips are electric against yours, soft and sweet enough to have you breathless as the kiss deepens. Your head tilts to the side as the kiss grows in passion and fervor.

It’s too much and you have to pull away, your chest heaving as Kirishima presses his forehead against yours.

“Am I dreaming?” Kirishima wonders as you laugh.

“This would be a twisted dream if it was,” you admit as Kirishima nods. His hands grabbing your chin as he presses another kiss to your lips.

Who knew a password could also unlock a relationship.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

taglist (message to be added):

@flayvus @antigenius @mariahschoices @cherry-pie-shay @the-secret-thief @vampire-dumbass

[kenobis-kyber]

From The Stars

Hello everyone! Thanks again for likes, comments and follows!

Rating: M Violence, swearing, abuse, and later smut

Chapter 4

The next morning Obi-Wan awoke just as the sky was beginning to turn pink, having being used to this schedule since his master was definitely an early riser. He got up and opened his door very quietly as he didn't want to disturb his gracious host. Making his way into the living room he began to look around. One thing he noticed is that there weren't many pictures or holograms around, just various knick knacks. One of the focal points of the room is what looked like to be a primitive holo-viewer. It is definitely more primitive here.

Looking out towards the porch his curiosity piqued, he wanted to go investigate where Vanessa and Hershey found him. Maybe he would find more clues. Slipping out as quiet as a ghost and walked towards the wood. He reached out with force to see where her presence had been and followed that. A few minutes later he arrived at a small clearing where the glass was slightly singed and flat, the force was distorted bit here and he figured here would be the best to do his early morning mediation since it was the closest point to where he came from. He sat down cross legged, took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

It was different here but not necessarily unpleasant. Different animals could be felt around him and the stillness was actually quite nice. He was usually used to the faint sound of the ever busy city around him. The breeze kicked up and he could smell the plants and earth around him as he slipped into a deep mediation and focused on the here and now.

The sun shone in her room and started to wake her up. She sat up and stretched her limbs letting out a big yawn. Hershey awoke from the foot of her bed hearing her wake up.

“Good morning boy. Let’s get you into the backyard.”

She opened the door slowly as to not disturb her guest and tip toed out. Passing by his room she noticed the door was opened and she peeked inside. He wasn't there but the bed was freshly made and tidy. She smiled to herself liking the fact that he was considerate as such. Walking into the living room he still couldn't be found. She found it quite odd but continued about her normal routine and let her dog out to do his business. Standing on the porch and inhaling the fresh air she closed her eyes and relished in the crisp morning. Her peace was interrupted by Hershey yapping excitedly. Looking up she saw Obi wan emerging from the woods. He walked up to the dog and gave him a good pat and scratch before turning his gaze to Vanessa. He smiled as he approached her.

“You look well.” She stated

“Thank you. Sorry if I had you worry, I am an early riser and usually meditate in the morning. I went to find the spot you found me to see if I can find any clues.”

“It is fine. Any luck?”

“No, unfortunately, maybe the force will reveal an answer later.” he said with a sigh.

“Like I said you are more than welcome to stay here until such a time. Lets go inside and eat breakfast and then we will do some clothes shopping and grocery shopping, figure out some things you would like while you were here.”

“OK, though I still feel guilty that you are doing this for me. I have no way of repaying you.”

She chuckled. “Oh don't worry I could put to work on some of the repairs around the house.”

“Its a deal.”

They sat and ate breakfast and conversed about a variety of things, before heading out. Walking out to the car he hesitated.

“Ugh I hate flying.”

She quirked an eyebrow on him. “Cars don't fly here. Its all along the ground, sorry to say. We are way behind.”

“Oh.” he said while climbing in.

It was a bit of a drive, so she played some music. Obi found it quite agreeable and tried to learn the lyrics. Getting to the mall they went from store to store shopping for a few things for him to wear. He seemed to favor jeans, t shirts, and tennis the most. She also bought him a few beanies because she noticed people were starting to stare at his unusual hairstyle  and she could tell it was making him uncomfortable. They passed by a book shop and she saw his eyes go wide.

“Do they not have books where you come from?” she asked

“They do but they are so rare as everything is technology based.”

“Well why don't we go inside and you can pick up a few you might like”

He shook his head frantically “Oh no I couldn't ask you of that you are doing so much for me. As it is Jedi don’t keep a lot of personal items.”

“Relax. I wont tell the Council that you indulged while you were here.” she said while patting him on the arm.

“Very well.” he said with a sigh and smirk.

They went inside and about an hour later, came out with a few things. His face lit up with his new posessions. He got a history book, some poetry, as well as a few random other things. They loaded their items and drove to the grocery store. While they were shopping he asked her what everything was. And she told him.

“Well if there is anything you would like to try let me know.”

“Sorry. I don’t know where to start. Just get what you usually do or things you think I might like” he said with a smirk.

“Alright. No problem”

Later on they arrived home and he put all the clothes she had bought him away. And went out to the living room to watch a movie with her. She insisted on educating him in the best of entertainment they had to offer on this planet.

As the weeks continued on, they settled into a comfortable routine, including Obi helping out with chores around the house. He was always eager to help and she found that endearing. She always had a pleasant demeanor and was always kind. She was also funny and a bit sarcastic. But there was something that was bothering him about her, it seemed she lived as a bit of hermit and he hoped it wasn't because of him.

“Vanessa? May I ask you something?” he said turning to her while they enjoyed the dusk on the porch.

“Sure….” she replied a little apprehensive

“Forgive me if I seem to be a little rude. But I have noticed that you live kind of isolated and don't socialize with anyone besides me and Hershey. And I hope I am not the cause of it.”

He noticed….damn.

She cleared her throat. “Well its definitely not because of you so don't worry about that. Its just I had to start over.”

He looked at her curiously. “Start over?”

“Yes. Its a hard story to tell.” she said looking down at her hands. He reached over and grabbed one and held it. Raising her head to look at him he saw that her eyes were watery.

“I am sorry I didn't mean to pry.” He said while gently bringing a thumb to wipe a stray tear.

She sniffled. “No its OK. I need to open up about it some time.” She turned to face him and he squeezed her hand in reassurance. She took a deep breath before she spoke. “I was married at a young age. In matter of fact I lied about my age to get married. I was 16 and he was 19. And I absolutely fell in love. It was wonderful at first, but a few months in I noticed some things. He was mean and would constantly put me down. Then not that long after that is when he began hitting me. I was shocked but I didn't leave because I made the excuse that I was the one that caused it. I wasn't allowed to leave and was forced to take care of him in any way he wanted to….” she trailed off.

Obi wan’s jaw clenched as he could see her memories of the pain she endured. She continued, “One night it all changed. He came home from work and saw that I hadn't finished folding the laundry and he lost it. He beat me so bad, he broke ribs, my cheek bone and worse he raped me. The next day, I realized the hell I was in and had to get out. So I painfully walked to my neighbors house who promptly called an ambulance and the police. He was arrested and found guilty and is now serving a sentence in prison. This house belonged to my Aunt and Uncle they left it to me, thankfully he doesn't know about it. But I never want to take my chances of him ever finding me. So I broke off all ties.” she said with tears running down her eyes.

Obi-wan had never felt so heart broken and angry in his life. What kind of monster would do such a thing to a kind soul as her. Knowing he had to get control of his emotions he decided to pull her into him tightly to comfort her. She sobbed into his chest and he ran his fingers through her hair doing his best to soothe her.  Something in him that night had changed. He felt a protectiveness over her and an affection. He kissed the top of her head feeling that, she looked up into his blue eyes and saw a determination in them.

“I promise to protect you as long as I can. No one, especially you deserves that. You did nothing wrong and you are so strong to survive that.” he said looking at her with soft eyes when he finished his sentence.

He titled her head and kissed her forehead. Closing both their eyes they rest their foreheads against each others and relishing the feel of being so close together. They stayed like that for awhile until she relaxed finding his presence soothing.

“I am going to go to bed, all this has exhausted me,” she said while pulling away from him.

He gave her a small smile. “OK just know that I meant what I said, good night Vanessa.”

She returned his smile and headed into the house. He sat on the porch with the dog just enjoying the serenity of the night. Giving the dog a scratch on the head,

“Lets head in for the night, boy” Wagging his tail, Hershey followed behind Obi into the house before laying on his bed for the night. “Good night boy.” he said before heading into his room. He settled on the bed to try and get some sleep, but alas it would not come.

He laid awake in his bed organizing his thoughts.

I've never been affectionate to someone like that. Why did that happen to her? She is amazing for dealing with so much and coming out of it so kind-hearted. To be so close to her was heaven. I wonder how it would feel to kiss her…

At that last thought he shot up in bed. He shook his head as he realized that he was starting to develop feelings for her. But he couldn't act on them as it was forbidden by the Jedi code. But he already knew it was too late, He had formed an attachment to her against his will and he honestly felt conflicted about the whole thing. Who knew how long he would be here or even if he would permanently. Was this is the will of force, he didn't know what to do.

Tagging: @supermoschi @blondekel77 @princessxkenobi @ayamenimthiriel

[gffa]

Clone Wars EP Dave Filoni breaks down the first episodes of the final season [x]

It’s been a long journey in a galaxy far, far away, but Star Wars: The Clone Wars is finally back. After its unexpected cancellation in 2013, fans had a new hope for the revered series. At Star Wars Celebration in 2015, audience members got to see rough animations (story reels) of a few unfinished episodes, including a plot focusing on imperfect clone soldiers called the Bad Batch. Those episodes make up the first arc of the seventh and final season, which debuted Feb. 21 on Disney+. After the premiere of the first two episodes, EW spoke with Clone Wars and The Mandalorian executive producer Dave Filoni about bringing back the series — and a fallen friend.

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: When you produced the first six seasons, the pace of production was pretty quick. But for this season, you had years to look back and reflect on the story. As you were looking to bring back these first few episodes was there anything you really wanted to go back and update?

DAVE FILONI: If you go back to the original series, what we put out in 2008, it's such a dramatic leap. But then you realize it's been 11 years since that show first aired, which is kind of striking for me that it's been so long. So there should be dramatic improvements, visually. I think that facial animation, the fidelity of the expression — things like that — we were able to improve in the animation itself. I really feel looking at this show now, it's kind of how >George [Lucas] and I envisioned it to look in the beginning. We just didn't have the tools necessary to actually realize it then. But over time with a lot of training, you know, like any good Jedi I learned my way.

One scene that's a little different from the original story reel of “The Bad Batch” is that it originally opened with a longer extended sequence between Mace, Anakin, Rex, and Cody. In the final version, you added a pretty touching scene between Rex and Cody talking about a lot of the fallen clones. What was the decision to add that scene in there?

I just thought the story was really dragging in the beginning. I felt like there was a whole lot of exposition, one too many scenes where they're saying what they're going to do instead of just doing it. And then I wanted to add a better sense of personal stakes to the story. You know, part of the consideration I had to make when doing this was, how do people even know who Echo is? I'm imagining a lot of people will just watch these 12 episodes and maybe not go back and watch the previous, you know, over 100 episodes where Echo plays a moderate role.

The Bad Batch are mutant clones who are new faces we meet at the top of the season. How did you go about designing the looks for these guys and also new clone hairstyles that I didn’t know were possible?

Yes, we always had this bizarre hairstyle trend with clones where they would pick ways to individualize. And the Bad Batch themselves, that was all right from George. He wanted to explore this idea that there were clones that were a little bit more unique from one another that were like a special forces unit that had enhanced skills. And so the trick for those characters is really making them feel special in what their abilities could be, but not making them superheroes. Wrecker should not be the Hulk, even though we love the Hulk and those types of stories. That's not what Star Wars is. So we had to keep it all kind of within the reality of Star Wars.

I loved the callback to clone 99 from season 3. Was that always the plan to call the Bad Batch "Clone Force 99"?

Yeah. That's where the idea kind of came from story-wise, was that, you know, 99 proved back in the original Clone Wars series to have greater heart and strength than some of the clones that were thought of better warriors, and Cody felt that that was worth exploring. And so he really lobbies the Kaminoans to take a second look at clones that they might deem different.

These first two episodes feature almost entirely clone troopers. Dee Bradley Baker voices all the clones — what was his reaction when he saw the script?

He has a unique skill where he's able to lend his voice to the individual nature of these characters. You forget it's one guy doing it. And I can tell you, it's exhausting for him. Being inside one character's mind is exhausting. And I can't imagine what it's like when he's in a whole squad of guys. And he's got to keep the energy up and he's got to keep the conflict up. And he's arguing with himself.

He and I over the years have had different ways to remember clones. When we were in the series we had certain words that would be like triggering for each of the clones — what their key personality was. The Bad Batch is a little easier, you know, because they're so different.

I think one of the coolest scenes that has ever come out of Clone Wars is the attack on the command center in episode 1 of this season. Do you remember plotting that out?

Yeah, that was really well-directed by Kyle Dulevy. George was always pushing us to think more in terms of what the live-action blocking would be and how a live-action film could do things. And that's where some of those longer takes that hand off action and keep with movement and feel more handheld and operated come from. It's the way to really put the viewer right in there, like you're running alongside the clones.

The way we do Clone Wars, there's no storyboards. So when we plan the scene like that, it's all virtually blocked in the computer. All the staging is done in a privatized system George created called Zviz, which is like a virtual blocking tool for directors. And you can put all the characters on the stage and then you can watch them play out the scenes like you’re watching the morning walkthrough of the rehearsal run, and then you can set up your cameras and so you can follow everybody. There's this virtual camera, and you can tweak the timing to get it to be really perfect.

The animator, Kyle, and his team were really proficient at using it. I know exactly the shot you're talking about. The way I look at it in my mind is that the Bad Batch arc is the most authentic to the way I think Clone Wars was back when we did it. Yes, we improved the animation. We improved the rendering. But it's very much something that we had shot. It's pretty authentic. The middle arc is more of a halfway point, where we tweaked it and we worked on the script quite a bit, but it's still the relative idea of what we were going to be doing cinematically. And then the end is really something like we've never done before in Clone Wars — because it’s the end.

It was so great to see Echo again despite the circumstances. When he seemingly died in the Citadel, did you know then that you wanted to bring him back later?

No, ha. That [death], really more than any of the other ones, we all kind of noticed that people were like, “Oh, man, Echo.” And we thought it'd be interesting that the Techno Union — a creepy bunch of guys on the evil side of things — maybe there's something to be done there. So we started to hatch a plan for if that would even be something that's possible. But it wasn't top of mind when we did the Citadel arc.

Another difference between the story reels in the second episode was this new scene about Anakin slipping away to call Padme, which I thought was a pretty illuminating addition.

When I looked at these 12 episodes, there was no Padme in them, and that seemed like a really huge oversight. That was never the plan, because there were more episodes planned, but we ended up doing these 12. I just thought that was really unfortunate. I talked to the actress who played her, Cat Taber, and I think it was a bummer for her because she'd been so involved in the series over the years.

And again, [this new scene] is important to the story and for people that might be walking into Clone Wars new. Having a scene with Padme actually interacting with Anakin was a very important moment. It also shows people where they're at in their relationship. It shows that he goes to her for advice, that she really gets the relationship he has with Rex, that she needs to remind him that actually that was going out on a limb for him, so maybe you should take it on faith and go on this limb for Rex. And also that she has a big influence over Anakin still and that he trusts her. And it also hints at the timeline. And that's always a tricky one, I think, because you as the viewer have to remember that at this point in Star Wars, we know way more than the characters do.

To be honest, I'd worked so much on Rebels, I had to go back and reread and watch a whole bunch of the Clone Wars era just to turn my brain back on. I had to upload a whole bunch of information to my drive because, you know, I guess I'm getting old and losing some of it, but it came back in time.

You posted an intriguing Instagram last month. It was a picture of Gandalf and Ahsoka. And Gandalf says, “People thought I was dead, too. Look how that turned out…” And, you know, a lot of people assumed Asoka was dead because we hear her voice in The Rise of Skywalker. Are we going to see her again?

Well, you'll see her in Clone Wars if you watch these 12 episodes. [Laughs] I told the truth! I had an answer for once.

Was there anything that you learned from working on and directing in this first season of The Mandalorian that you were able to apply to this final season of Clone Wars?

I think a lot. Working with Jon Favreau has been another extension of my education. There are a lot of things that George had taught me over the years about live-action, and finally here I was in a place where I could apply it. And I'm so fortunate to be working alongside Jon as another mentor and someone who is very experienced to help me through the questions and the challenges that you have in a different medium.

But yeah, it definitely affected me as far as looking back on the Clone Wars with different eyes and saying we could tighten this up, this could be better. You know, some of the things I learned from Jon about just keeping it moving and heightening and transforming things as we go. He brings a great perspective, and one that I've really never had as an actor to every scene and the emotions and the character. And so I've learned a lot from him in the past year about hopefully improving our performances and relating to performances.

[nostalgic-pancakes]

one day (i know that you will be there)

Summary: Here, have some fluffy transbur :D

Pairings: gen everyone, with a specific focus on crimeboys

Read on AO3

Word count: 2070

Warnings: None? I guess? Tell me if there are any, but I don’t see them

Other notes: Part of @noorahqar‘s BANGER discord server Pride Event!

Please DO NOT send this to the CC’s or even imply that this exists because No, Thank you

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Sometimes, it feels like it's okay. Nothing's wrong at all and in fact, Wilbur is happy.

Other times it feels like he's stuck in his own skin, a place he can't get out of.

Wilbur doesn't really know what's going on with his gender. He's always been cis, it's all he knows we it's his comfort zone. Even while his life was being wholly upended by YouTube, and Twitch and life in general, Wilbur's gender was always a constant- the one thing he never worried about or spent too much time on. It was his gender, and it was just kind of...there.

Sometimes when gender is part of the conversation, people display confusion when Wilbur talks about his gender like something separate from him that was tied on and is just there now, like a bit of hair that can never stay in place, but isn't necessarily a bother, either. But isn't gender like that for everyone?

Well, according to the one and only Tommyinnit, no.

"Well… for me, my gender is pretty malleable. It's more of a fucking... fucking abstract concept than a feeling? I'm a little detached from mine, but not as much as that, Wilbs."

"Then what is your gender like?" Wilbur asks. It's late on a Friday night, and Wilbur had ended up visiting Tommy's flat out of mostly impulse, living just under a kilometre away from his sibling these days. They're in the living room, splayed out on the floor talking about anything and everything in the dark, too quiet to wake Tubbo and Ranboo.

Wilbur’s not agender- he has a gender that he keeps around, even if it stays reasonably sectioned away from the rest of him.

Tommy hums, an older tune that Wilbur can't place as he fiddles around with some wool scraps ("Cabbages!" Tommy insists indignantly) leftover from the cardigan they had just finished when Wilbur walked in. It's a burgundy colour that's probably going to be matched with one of Tommy's longer cream skirts to University Monday morning.

"My gender is a… a kind of vibe? I guess? To me it feels like skirts doing that cool swoosh thing in the wind around you while you walk or eating Tubbo's chicken soup and that feeling I always got after a Dream SMP stream. It's weird, but that's my gender I guess." And that is weird. It's weird as fuck, but Tommy's gender sounds really fucking cool so Wilbur tries anyways. Tries to imagine what his gender, the amorphous entity that it is, feels like to him.

It's hard, at first, but then Wilbur starts humming. He's always done better with auditory concepts than visual or tactile ones, strumming tunes together that tie in with his latest hyperfixation.

So Wilbur hums. He starts with 'White Wine in a Wetherspoons' and then 'Cause for Concern' with a little bit of 'Your new Boyfriend' thrown in for posterity as it all starts to come together. Tommy starts tapping his finger on the plywood floor, creating a small beat.

His gender feels nice, actually, and not just the neutral burden that the universe has him carry around. It begins to feel like the warmth in Wilbur's chest when someone says "Hey, don't stop. Tell me more, this is interesting" to even the most niche fixations that Wilbur has ever had, like the different types of bricks or the historical fashion one he had at the same time as Tommy and they made dozens of Pinterest boards together (1830’s hairstyles his beloved). It feels like Phil calling him 'Son' in that chamomile accent, like everything will be fine. It feels like the tipsy laughs he and Niki share when getting drunk together and it sounds like the quick, comforting 'bzzt bzzt bzzt' of Tommy's sewing machine running on the other side of the flat while Wilbur makes them breakfast because they and his flatmates are fundamentally incapable of looking after themselves.

It's really a pretty nice gender, actually. So when Wilbur closes its metaphorical pouch and clips it back onto his metaphorical backpack, he feels lighter, warmer inside than before. Is this how Tommy feels sometimes?

The tapping stops and Wilbur realises that Tommy's fallen asleep, surrounded by scraps of cabbage on a fairly cold plywood floor. This will not do. Thankfully, Wilbur has gained enough arm strength to reasonably carry the nineteen-year-old to his bedroom, carefully avoiding sewing pins that Tommy will clean up frantically in the morning. Tubbo and Ranboo are asleep as before, in the same place, huddled together on the lowest bunk covered in blankets, with just enough room for another person.

Tommy fits in perfectly, head on Ranboo's shoulder and the rest of him swathed in blankets to protect from the cold. It's started to show fairly heavily outside so going home is not possible. Therefore, Wilbur stays.

The guest room still has some of his shit from the last time he stayed over, around a week ago. Piling a thick-ish duvet on top of himself, Wilbur sleeps, more at peace than he's ever been.

-

Monday morning, Wilbur tries out pronouns. He was spending the weekend in a bit of a haze of filming and social interaction and talking to Elodie, his editor, in order to have most of this week free.

He's back at home with pronoun dressing rooms loaded on Firefox, a Geoguessur stream finished and a free day with spoons to spare. It is time.

First- she/her.

This is Wilbur, the site reads, She's 27 years old with a penchant for making songs. She also really likes hanging out with her sibling, Tommy and her best friends on the Dream SMP. She still ships DNF.

Oh. Oh wow. She/Her works pretty well actually. Wilbur likes that for herself.

Next- they/them. This is not as nice, but it's also not bad, necessarily.

Fae/Faer- this one is pleasant enough.

Everything else is okay, Wilbur supposes. She figures that just knowing that he/him isn't the only answer is good enough for herself.

The first person she tells is Tommy, on a phone call during one of his frees.

“Okay, so he, she and fae, right?” they ask, rolling the pronouns around like the colorful hard candies sold in packets of two hundred each, muttering small sentences, barely audible to the phone mic amongst the dozens of student voices around him, pitter-pattering like sleet on cars heard from a cozy living room.

“Yeah. pronouns change by the day. Please don’t interchange them.” Wilbur confirms, short and soft.

“Oh that’s really fucking cool. What are they today? Does anyone else know? Do you have names you want to be called instead?” Tommy asks, orange-sweet in his kind concern and slowed down questions as to not deflate the souffle in Wilbur’s brain.

“Uh, she/her, and no, not yet on the knowing and the name thing. I’m going to tell Phil and Niki, then Dream, probably. Wish me luck.” Wilbur answers, the ‘wish me luck’ thrown in more as a formality than anything, but she’s still nervous, thoughts spinning in popcorn-crunch circles, pop pop pop about how it could go wrong and even if Tommy and Ranboo were accepted, perhaps that courtesy won’t be extended to her. Tommy, the absolute fucking legend as always seems to have figured that much out.

“Wil. Wilbur. Wilby. Big Dubs- It’s going to be fucking fine, you’re popcorn-popping again and while that’s one of your idiosyncrasies and I fucking love those, you are also freaking the fuck out. Everything will be fine, alright?”

“Idiosyncrasies? Where did you learn that? Is ‘The Tommyinnit’ learning new big words?” Wilbur teases, to mask her affection just a little bit, even as it seeps out of her voice like honey in a sopapilla, warm and sticky and sweet.

“Don’t fucking patronize me.” Tommy retorts, instinctive as it’s been for the past few years now, no bite behind their words. “I’ve got South Asian Lit now- call us in the evening?” he asks, because Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo are a single unit in the evening. Do not attempt separation till after midnight. Wilbur laughs, a small thing only audible to her sibling over the phone.

“Course. You can tell them yourself, if you want.”

“Okay. Now I need to walk like, three buildings or some shit, so I’m hanging the fuck up. See you later?” Tommy’s voice is softer towards the end, cotton candy and Wilbur melts, just a little bit.

“Okay, bye Tommy.”

“Bye Wil. Good luck.” Tommy hangs up a few seconds later, the last thing on the line that Wilbur can hear being Ranboo’s steadily louder voice as end catches up to Tommy, and Wilbur keeps the phone to her ear for a few seconds more, before putting it on charge and loading up Discord, to find Phil and Dream on VC 3 together, Tubbo and Purpled occupying the beloved VC 2.

Wilbur joins the call, taking in a deep breath and letting it out, and taking a sip of lukewarm tea. Earl Grey, probably taken from the tea box Phil gifted her on Christmas and prepares herself.

“Ay, H’lo, son.”

“Hey, Wilbur!” Dream’s voice, chirpy and crisp as a freshly-picked apple registers first, just before Phil’s comforting chamomile and Wilbur is at ease very quickly, because it’s Dream and Phil. It is literally impossible for things to go wrong.

“Hi! I just came on here to tell you something.” Wilbur starts. After hearing noises of agreement, like popping candy, Wilbur starts.

“Um, so on Friday, Tommy and I did some soul-searching. Well, I did most of the searching. And uh, I figured out that I’m technically genderfluid, but my gender is a series of abstracts and I use he, she and fae pronouns.” It’s quiet for a second, before Phil responds.

“Hey, that’s pogchamp, mate. What pronouns are you using right now? Are they interchangeable?” Dream makes a noise in agreement, in questioning.

“Thanks, and uh, she/her, and no. not interchangeable. I use certain pronouns until I don’t.”

“Oh, that’s cool! Should I update your pronoun role in the Discord to ‘ask for pronouns’?” Dream finally says, and in typical Dream fashion, it’s by getting straight to business. It’s ridiculously endearing, even five years on, knowing everyone’s little quirks and idiosyncrasies (thanks Tommy for reminding her that the word exists) that it’s still possible to be endeared by them, and that they’re all still endeared to her.

“Yes please, Dream. Thank you. I’ll make a small announcement on the server myself, but thanks.”

“No problem, Wilbur! We’re glad you’re happy.”

“What the green-bitch said, mate.” Phil responds, and Dream turns on his camera for that only, just to show that he isn’t actually wearing green- he’s wearing a blue T-shirt, blonde hair mussed about enough to show that he did not comb it when he woke up. His face still has some sleep leftovers, but he’s awake enough to pay attention, and he’s smiling at Wilbur, mouse clicking very fast to change her discord role, and it shows up a few seconds later with a purple dot. ‘ask for my pronouns’. Wilbur is smiling like an idiot, and she turns on her camera, Phil following suit as she starts laughing a little wetly and all of this sinks in.

Wilbur is gender-fluid. She loves herself, her family and the little pouch still strapped to her backpack. Phil is whispering things into the mic soothingly and Dream is grinning at her, and it just feels so good. The bad feeling in Wilbur’s skin just isn’t here today, and it feels like it won’t be around for a while yet.

With slightly blurry eyes trying to see through her glasses, Wilbur makes an announcement with the @everyone turned on.

Bitchbur (she/her today): @everyone I’m here to announce that I’m genderfluid! You can either ask me my pronouns or I’ll just change my nick. The name’s still Wilbur. That’s about it.

Replies start coming in, nothing but messages of support and thumbs-up emoticons, and Wilber closes her eyes, leaning back in her chair, laughing a bit more. She’s so happy that she managed to accept herself, and find acceptance in everyone else on this server. She probably won’t come out to the internet for a while, or even to some of her real-life friends but that’s okay.

She’s got everything she needs right here.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

First Loves, Gentle Kisses, and Families (Sriracha, Part 28.)

Description: A problematic college student gets the worst summer job of the ‘83 - Jim Hopper, the Chief of police in your hometown will have you as his secretary since his old lady Flo has two months lasting holiday. It was agreed so Hopper could let you far away from all the trouble.

Part Summary: Eleven bringing more people to your life was something that was terrifying, yet fun and full of adventure at the same time. And there were more exciting news about to come from the Hawkins Lab.

A/N: The Snow Ball is approaching, romance is in the air, everyone is feeling good, this is going to be fluffy.

Word count: 2.3 K

Tagging: @nemodoren​, @creedslove​, @missdictatorme​

Master list: H E R E

It was just a matter of time before you found your way to at least respect the children Eleven was friends with. There was this Sinclair boy, Lucas, who always had some dumb jokes that made you at least chuckle. There was Dustin, who sometimes had the front teeth and sometimes he hadn’t got any because of some weird illness he had. There was also Maxine, who was quiet, but she liked to cook with you and Eleven. You already knew Will and his Dungeons and Dragons and you’ve seen Mike around already, so there was no surprise there.

Just before December was about to start, you first noticed that Mike and Eleven maybe are a thing. You noticed those careful touches that you shouldn’t see, you could notice how aware Mike is around you and how El blushed every time he looked at her.

Once, you asked Hopper about that when you were about to lay in the bed.

“Hey, I feel like you’re keeping some secrets away from me.” - You furrowed and put on your pajama pants, putting your hair in a comfortable hairstyle, so it wouldn’t bother you during the night. Hopper's eyes closed as he tried to guess what you're talking about. His eyes popped out then, figuring out that you had found out about the lab stuff, and his arm hugged the blanket a bit tighter. - “You do?” - Hopper mumbled, his voice cracking a bit.

“Obviously. I feel like there is something weird every time I get back to Hawkins, like, you know, there’s something different. Almost… Almost as if you and El are keeping some secrets and other things away from me. Did you know anything about that?” - A clear amusement could be heard in your voice, which made his testicles crawl back inside of his belly. Was he about to be bitched down as a fourth-grader who came home late? Were you about to turn into a furious, yelling, plate-throwing demon he was used to? - “Do I know about what, exactly?” - The man asked as he watched your body laying down next to him, cuddling to him in the ice-cold late November night.

“You didn’t see that? El and Mike? You hadn’t noticed?” - You giggled, turning your head at him, smiling. Hopper could feel the damn relief falling off of his back. It was just El and Mike… Well. It was his daughter and that little Wheeler bastard you were talking about. That was when his eyebrow got a spasm.

“Oh, come on, don’t be a jackass. First love is the most beautiful one, James.” - Your laughter could be heard when you watched Hopper having a facial expression of rock. His hand was thrown over your waist, yet his body was ridiculously tensed. - “Hopper, stop this, don’t act like a fucking idiot. She is our princess, yes, but this would come over the time either way. And I like this Mike Wheeler. I know him since the day he was born, he’s a good kid.”

With that, Hopper shoved his face into the pillow, grunting annoyedly at you supporting Eleven’s damn choice. This battle was lost even before it started - he knew that he could go against you and your opinion, theoretically speaking, but you would pull out such arguments that it would make him sit on his damn ass. - “I’m with these two together way more than you. I know how Mike acts around her and I know he’s damn sweet to her. Let it be Hopper.” - You whispered to his ear before you slowly brushed your fingers under his t-shirt. Yes. This argument and battle were lost long before it even started.

The life went on, how much more could you possibly say? You went to work, studied in your free time, took care of Eleven, her friends and Hopper - the life in its entirety has never been better when you thought about it. Eleven was properly happy for the first time in forever and you couldn’t be happier about that.

It was a week after December started - and a week remaining to Snow Ball. Early Christmas, Hopper called it jokingly, but he was right. When he came home that day, you hadn’t expected him to be there that soon. You were pleasantly surprised because you and the kids were just in the half of a karaoke marathon and you were just staying Ghostbusters with a small help from Will the Wise himself. Hopper watched you with an amused smile - there was something magical about watching you work with children; whether it was studying with El or making dumb things with the whole gang, you always made it fun for both sides.

Last time he came in and you were just doing stuff, you played D&D. And oh my, you were just lost - visibly lost at what the hell was happening. Mike and Lucas helped you with building a character and you even got pretty far into the story, with the help of the boys, of course, but you still didn’t have any idea about what the goddamn hell is going on. You only knew that some kind of Minotaur had sliced you in half and just like that, you were dead and out of the whole story.

So this time, seeing you slaying Ray Parker’s song, that was a pleasure. And it was damn sweet when you repeated Who you gonna call? and the gang yelled back Ghostbusters! with lots of laughs as the melody slowly faded away.

“Would you mind if I steal Mr. Parker here for a minute or..?” - Hopper asked once the song ended.

“Only if Lucas and Dustin won’t cheat during Never Surrender. Mike, you’ll watch them and if they do cheat, points down.” - You said, a bit sad that you won’t see Dustin and Lucas chaotically yelling the romantic song. They were bickering about something, but you just walked to Hopper, smiling at them. - “Yada yada yada, can’t hear you. Do your best and don’t cheat or you’re out. I’m not playing games with karaoke.”

Hopper took you to the bedroom, sitting you down on the bed even if you said it’s completely pointless. Only when you finally sat down and heard Corey Hart and Dustin in sync yelling the first verse, Hopper gave you a completely normal envelope. You smiled at him before taking it out of his hands. And boy, when you finally opened it, you were taken away, watching that piece of stamped paper in your fingers.

“Merry Christmas, baby.” - The man kneeling in front of you whispered, smoothing both your thighs. You started shaking with excitement. Your eyes were scanning the paper to see if it isn't fake. But it seemed to be real.

“Is… Is this… Are you for… Is it even real? Are you telling me..?” - You whispered, watching the adoption certificate of Jane Hopper, presumably Eleven, in your palms.

“You’re now officially a proud mom.” - Hopper smiled with tears in his damn eyes. It was so pleasurable to see you as happy as you were in that moment. You were crying like a baby, let’s face it, but you tried to contain yourself just because there was only a piece of cloth between you and a room full of teenagers.

This was something huge, something you thought you would never achieve. That piece of paper was saying that Eleven is yours and no-one could deny that. And the document was even official, which was just breathtaking. You cried along with Jim in the backroom for the next ten minutes before you walked into Lucas and Max performing Material Girl from Madonna. And Lucas was just slaying the whole text while Max performed the backup vocals.

Not an hour from that, while Hopper decided to read something, the moment you didn’t like came by - Steve Nanny McFee Harrington came to pick up the boys and Max to drive them home. But you weren’t quite done with the contest, so you walked into the cold evening and looked at him. That was a thing you haven’t done before. You haven’t spoken to Steve in almost a year, which was crazy to think of since he was a big part of your life before.

“Hey, wanna come in? It’s freezing out there!” - You called in the direction of the car, smiling at the boy. He watched you like a dear in the headlights, trying to make out if you’re making fun of him or not. But when your smile widened even more than before, he stopped the engine and walked to the cabin, hearing first notes of Runaway, Max's song of choice.

“Hi there.” - You whispered with a smile, looking at the boy. Steve seemed to be mature. You didn’t know why or how was that possible, but the boy in front of your eyes looked… Really like an adult.

“Yeah, h-hey.” - Steve got out of his lips before you closed the door after him. The kids waved at him before continuing with their little karaoke. You, without hesitation, prepared Steve some warm chocolate so he wouldn’t freeze. The cabin was warm enough, but that boy just seemed to be cold. - “Haven’t talked to you in a while… How… Are things?” - He asked awkwardly as he looked around the cabin.

There was Eleven’s drawing hanging on the fridge, a lot of her pictures, there were even pictures of her and her friends there - you especially loved the one where Dustin was pretending that he had rabies when you made them Hopper’s triple-decker extravaganza one evening. There were pictures of you and Hopper side by side, pictures when you were alone with El - like hugging her on the couch or cooking with her. It was obvious that you had a family life and that you’re happy with it. It felt strange to see his former best friend’s sister, and his past crush, to have such a life at such an age and to be happy with it.

“They’re going just great. A year ago, I wouldn’t ever think that I can have a life like this, yet, here we are. It’s kind of a miracle.” - You smiled, giving him the mug, making yourself one as well. - “How are you? You and Nance are still hitting it off?”  - You smiled wickedly, but as soon as you could see his miserable face, you knew that you hit some soft spot in steve.

“No. I was, in fact, a terrible boyfriend and she started dating Jonathan Byers a month ago, they seem happy, tho. A terrible boyfriend, would you believe that? Just as you always told me.” - Steve turned the awkwardness into a joke, but you punched his shoulder with a giggle.

“I have never told you that you’d be a terrible boyfriend, Harrington. I just told that you and me? That wouldn’t work. And I told you a million times, again and again.” - You told him, looking him in the face with a smile on your lips, feeling a bit better around him each passing minute.

“Turned out I’m the best single mom Hawkins High basketball team had ever seen.” - Steve said proudly, which made you laugh again.

“Listen, dude, I love you and I always did. But not in the way you desperately wanted me to. You’re like a little brother to me - whatever happens, call me, we can hang out, talk things out, yeah?” - You offered him a sisterly hug and Steve accepted, smiling into your shoulder. - “Don’t you forget I’ve seen you running naked around our pool when you were small.” - You whispered, making him hug you even tighter.

He got over the crush some time ago, but the shock of you dating Hopper was just so huge, that he never brought himself to say hi to you when he met you in Hawkins. He couldn’t wave at you or look you straight in the face. It was just so hard - you were turning his offers down him for years at that point, but you fell in love with a total shit like James Hopper? That wasn’t fair.

But now, it felt just good and natural to hug you as a friend only. It didn’t feel pressured or weird. Steve started to see the value of a true friendship after he started hanging out with Dustin Henderson and his douche friends. And he could see why you and Hopper were making things work so well - when he looked at your mutual relationship without his jealousy, he could see why your bitching-down nature could hold a man like James grounded in reality and why his nature could make your head make fly in the skies.

“But we’ll sing karaoke now and we’ll show these teens how to slay a song hm?” - You asked, more like told him straight forward, and dragged him in front of the couch. Steve tried to resist with laughter, but in the next minute, you were yelling the text of Total Eclipse of the Heart into the hairbrushes like the whole mattered on this performance. Hopper was standing there, in the doorframe of the bedroom, watching as you made Steve laughter on many occasions when you just fucked the words up because you wanted to.

And for the first time, Jim wasn’t a bit jealous when it came to Steve - because no matter if the boy was a prick, they get to know each other during the second incident in Hawkins. And no matter how hard he tried to get under your skirt previously, that kid had a heart of gold. He just needed friends because, in reality, Steve was lonely. And it felt right when Hopper saw you two jamming to the song.