smusherina - Tumblr blog

[smusherina]

hey y’all, just posting to update i’m alive! sm stuff happened this week i could not find time nor energy to write anything.

however, in the little down time i had, i did play around with some minecraft mods! i’ve been playing the game for like a decade or so, thus unfortunately, sometimes i get bored of it. but now i can make apple cider! and cabbage rolls! and i can put books on the ground!

i’ll try to get back to the grind this weekend! new chapters for bridges burnt and werewolfism, hopefully.

[smusherina]

It's so sweet being tagged in things like this :) Thanks sm!

Last song: Dark Lady by Cher

Favourite colour: Hmm, gotta be blue. It's complimentary to my palette, is easy enough to match, and I like it!

Currently watching: I'm watching Dungeon Meshi on Netflix. I'm pretty bad at keeping up with any sorta shows, but I do watch movies on occasion. Just earlier today watched Cast Away. Might write something inspired by that soon.

Sweet/savory/spicy: Thing is, I love every type of consumable. Love food, love snacks, love meals. I don't like sweets that much, like actual candy. Give me baked goods, though, gobble gobble. I put sriracha into everything. (Not baked goods, mind you.)

Relationship status: Super virgin levels of single. Every day I think I couldn't yearn more, but as each one comes to pass I surprise myself.

Current obsession: Uhhh, strangely unobsessed rn. I have things I enjoy doing but I'm not, like, obsessed. Finally got to take a dip in the river today, though, so pretty fricken obsessed with summer maybe!?!?

Last thing I googled: Romanian pastries. For fic purposes.

I don't really know who to put here, 'cause one can't have mutuals on a side blog (sob) and I haven't interacted directly with a lot of people, but hey, I'll try! I'll put a few people I've seen a lot in my notes and would love to know more about!

Tags: @luz-enjoyer, @dandelions4us, @nattys-swiftie, @modernsapphicism

(Obvs anyone who sees this and would like to participate is so welcome to do so! Please!)

Get To Know Tag

It was @evilpenguinrika, in April, with a tag 🗡️

Last Song: “Richard Cory” (YouTube: live version someone showed me the other day [that whole appearance is great!] / Song.link: original album version) [I’ve written about the song before here.]

Favourite Colour: Blue

Currently Watching: About the only thing left I’m still watching is Ghosts 😳

Sweet/Savoury/Spicy: Uh…anything but spicy? Dunno. Iced tea should be sweet, and, well, sweets, but I don’t know that I have food that’s sweet? And I’ve never understood what savory entailed… 😳

Relationship Status: This one instantly took me all the way back to Week 1 of Beginning Arabic and Maha in the Red Book (#this is the way my mind works 😂)—except I am not forlorn about my single status.

Current Obsession: The scent of honeysuckle filling the “spring” air?

Last Thing You Googled: Googled proper, no clue. Last search was trying to find a link for Maha above…without luck.

Tagging: Since @persevereforahappyending tagged me in the other one, I’m returning the favor here 😂 And other regular appearances on my dashboard, @anakinftpadme @whyislenaluthorsohot And to quote EvilPenguinRika when tagging me, “Feel free to do this if you wanna :'D And whoever else who sees this and wants to do it too, go for it!”

[smusherina]

taglist for bridges burnt! yard work epilogue series! new chapter has been posted! (1)

below are the mentioned/tagged people. no content in this post. feel free to comment on this post to be added to the taglist!

@autorasexy​

@wedfan2​

@unadulterated-moron​

@modernsapphicism​

@9unknown0​

@sage-rose2000​

@massive-honkas​

@nattys-swiftie​

@likefirenrain​

@luz-enjoyer​

@dandelions4us​

@natashamaximoff-69​

@alexkolax​

@jareaul0ver​

@here4theqts​

@charleeeesworld​

@natsbiggestfan1​

@brocoliisscared​

@yellowwallflowers​

@scarlettbitchx​

@ayoungexwife​

@cyberbonesworld​

@syddie-reads​

@screechcat​

@theenglishswiftie​

@gabby-duhh​

@sweetmissnothing​

@masterofpuppets-10​

@l1lass​

@starved-mortal​

@nothanksbye07​

@nenas19​

@jvuyii​

@starry-night17​

@reneeswife24​

@glorioushamsterqueen​

@krononan​

@slug-on-bike​

@rayisaknight​

@chaseatlanticlover91​

@reginassweetheart​

@mirage018​

@thyhooligans​

@rainbow-love4ever​

@enderjr1234​

@kites-writes

@neighborhoodspook​

[smusherina]

bridges burnt - chapter 1 [epilogue series] (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: When an invitation to Gretchen Wieners' wedding ended up in your mailbox, you'd been sure it was a mistake. Only, it read your name in neat, swoopy calligraphy. It was addressed to you. And Regina George, whom you hadn't spoken to in years.

additional clarification: This is set in the universe of yard work, a series of mine that can be found on my page! Reading this one might be a bit challenging without the context of the series :)

very necessary note: Okay, fuck, it was supposed to be a one shot. Then I got excited. So have another freakin' Regina George series. Set in the same universe as yard work! Reading that provides some essential context, but you do you! I don't think it's unreadable without it.

You adjusted your tie for perhaps the millionth time. It was a silky blue, befitting your navy suit. You fiddled with your cufflinks, silver like all your accessories, then pulled out the baby blue handkerchief to wipe down your glasses, then folded it pack into your pocket, then bent to redo your laces, then-

"For fuck's sake, the ceremony hasn't even started yet!" Amanda nudged you violently.

"Ow!" You hissed, elbowing her back. She slapped your knee, hard.

"Get yourself together." She glowered, pointing a manicured finger at your nose. "It's worse enough I have to be here at all. You're not gonna ruin this for me."

"You're here for the open bar and free food. I paid for the flights, the room, the car." You bit back. "I'm allowed to be nervous."

"There's nervous, then there's this." Amanda looked you up and down pointedly, noting your bouncing knee.

You squeezed at said knee, trying to calm down. Like you'd been trying to do since hours ago. No results so far.

"Look, buddy, it's just a wedding. You don't even really know her. I get you... Have a history with the bride, or whatever, but it's gonna be so fine."

"It's not Gretchen I'm worried about." You mumbled.

"Whoever. It's gonna be fine." Amanda said, flippant as ever. How she was so carefree all the time was mind-boggling to you.

"This place is filled with people from high school. God." You looked around. "That guy over there, don't look, with the receding hairline- I said don't look!"

"Be more specific, every man here has a receding hairline. The demographic is excruciatingly pallid."

"Shut up, girl," You shook your head but couldn't help but laugh. It was mostly white people here. "The one with the wife that looks exactly like him, unbelievably blonde, kinda mousy," You waited for her eyes to latch onto the man you were talking about. "He used to buy weed from me, like, every week, and then went around spreading rumours about me."

"Ungrateful." Amanda scoffed. "And look at him, a wife, child, and probably a 401k. That's how it goes for boys like them."

"Yeah." You sighed. "How's the salon doing, by the way?"

"Thriving. Thanks to you. But I worked my ass off." You lifted your arms in surrender. She had worked hard to keep the place afloat for as long as she had, so even if you hadn't invested she would've found a way.

Amanda cast you a meaningful look. "You're doing better than ever, aren't you? Financially speaking. How's everything else?"

"Well, y'know..." You shrugged. "It's complicated." You looked down. Amanda patted your knee, a sympathetic smile on her face.

"You got a nice suit, though." She pointed out.

"Oh, for sure. Look at these, custom cufflinks." You showed off the silver bits. "Do you think these rings are too much?"

"Don't you usually have an ungodly amount of them on?"

"I usually just have these three." On your right pinky was your Engineer's Ring. On your left thumb was an embroidered steel band and on the pointer of that same hand a ring with a big emerald embedded in a bed of crystals.

"It's not too much." Amanda took your hand and inspected the rings. "More like sexy." She grinned at you, all sorts of innuendo right on display.

You scoffed and turned towards the altar. The pews were getting fuller by the minute. You were sitting far enough from the front to show you weren't important but not too far as to hint you didn't want to be there. You were on the bride's side, though it didn't matter much. You didn't know Gretchen any better than her husband-to-be.

Amanda had come with you for moral support. You'd been roommates in college and you hadn't been able to shake her off since. She'd grown on you, though you often acted more begrudged than you felt. She'd helped you out a lot over the years.

She'd been there when you couldn't leave the dorms, trapped in the vicious clutches of paranoia. She'd been there helping you get back on your feet when dad's businesses started going, one by one, each more explosive than the last. She was there when you moved back to that little town in Illinois, where Northshore still stood.

You liked to think you'd been equally as integral to her, but that was perhaps a reach. She was fiercely independent, resourceful, and charming enough to make friends with anyone. When the first chance to help her came, you didn't hesitate to take it. She'd opened up her salon right after graduation, staying in New York while you moved back home, and had been doing well until now. Unexpected costs and a wicked plumbing bill had landed her in some hot water.

For the small price of one favour and eternal bragging rights, you'd shoved your newly acquired wealth at her. Dragging her to Vermont in October to attend Gretchen's wedding was you cashing in on that favour.

Eventually, the proceedings began. The groom and his men walked in with little fanfare, mild music playing as they went. Most faces you did not recognize, but there was one back of the head that seemed eerily familiar.

The groom, a classically handsome man, a boring prince type, went to stand at the altar. He had an expectant glimmer in his eye. At least Gretchen's taste in men had improved. Then again, anything beat the scrubs she'd used to keep around.

Behind the groom, his line of groomsmen settled, the best man fronting the crowd. The man of the hour was in a classic black tux while the others flanking him were dressed in different shades of brown. The whole shebang was sort of beige with a little bit of burnt orange thrown in. Amidst the shades of umber, russet, and sepia, stood a familiar face.

Aaron Samuels. You didn't have much time to agonize about him being here before the bridesmaids were stepping through the aisle. Similar dresses but in lighter shades, clearly made to match a certain groomsman. You didn't recognize any of them.

The maid of honour was a little odd. Her makeup seemed to be a lot thicker on one side, like there were several layers of foundation caked on. Her eye makeup on that side was a little heavy also, but she was past you by the time you could wonder why.

"The maid of honour totally has a black eye," Amanda whispered to you.

"No way," You hissed back, trying to get an angle where you could see her face. As she settled in place, facing the pews, even moderately far away you could see that, yeah, she totally was covering up a black eye. Wild bachelorette party, then.

Coos and aws resounded through the church as the flower girl and the ring bearer came toddling down. A little girl, cheeks all red, and looking like she wanted to be anywhere else, and a slightly older boy with an almost manic look in his eye. The girl was in no mood to be tossing petals, so the boy reached into her basket and threw a big fistful of them in the air. The rings rolled off of their pillow but found their way back.

"Oops," The boy said, smiling sheepishly right as the photographer came in to capture the moment. Chuckles echoed through the space.

By the time they reached the end of the aisle, the little girl was dutifully carrying the pillow on which the rings were and the boy was joyously tossing flower petals everywhere. As god intended.

Then came the bride. Escorted by her father, who was beaming with a mouth full of veneers, Gretchen Wieners made her appearance.

It wasn't disappointment that you felt. Not relief, either. It was hard to describe. You'd been expecting anger or some catharsis. This was the person who'd outed you to your whole school, who'd been the catalyst to the worst year of your life, why didn't you feel more?

High school had been over for almost ten years. You carried scars, deep ones that still ached on bad days but at the end of the day, they were just scars. You were doing better than ever. Gretchen had been a bully, had brought you to ruin once upon a time, but who was to say it couldn't all be built again?

You smiled. She looked beautiful. A white dress, a long veil, hair done big, bigger and more grandiose than you'd ever seen, and looking like, well, a bride.

You'd moved on. Considering how she'd invited you too, and knowing Gretchen she was acutely aware of every person in attendance, she had moved on too. You could recognize an olive branch when one was given to you.

That didn't explain the invitation, though. Maybe it was a mistake. Gretchen wasn't known for making those, but she was human too. Right?

"Look, they're totally enthralled by each other. You're gonna be fine." Amanda whispered, ignoring the elderly lady seated next to her shooting daggers through her eyes at you two.

"Yeah. It's gonna be fine."

Notes: Got really ill at the beginning of this week, which delayed this chapter quite a bit. You don't realize quite how awesome breathing is until you can't do it properly. Getting better slowly, it's nothing serious, but the cough is lingering. It is what it is.

This chapter was mostly setting up the narrative, no Reggie and Jorts interactions as of yet. I'm not making any promises because I'm so shit at keeping them, but hoping that this series will be shorter than the original one.

Taglist posted seperately!

[smusherina]

yard work posted to ao3

it's been posted anonymously, so this is a sort of insurance that it was indeed me. i posted yard work anonymously on 2024-05-13.

[smusherina]

"When an invitation to Gretchen Wieners' wedding ended up in your mailbox, you'd been sure it was a mistake. Only, it read your name in neat, swoopy calligraphy. It was addressed to you. And Regina George, whom you hadn't spoken to in years."

Summary for the first epilogue of yard work! Kind of like a teaser. I'm just excited :) Can't wait to give it to y'all ASAP. Also, pondering if the better word for this is spinoff? Sequel? Idk man, just more of Reg & J.

[smusherina]

the intricacies of werewolfism (and other afflictions) - chapter 2 (wenclair)

fandom: Wednesday (2022), Addams Family (all media)

pairing: (romantic) Wednesday Addams x Enid Sinclair (platonic) OFC/Reader x Wenclair

summary: You'd been keeping an eye out for Enid Sinclair since freshman year. There'd been a silent camaraderie between you, both sitting in the very back of the room during Furs specific classes. Things changed, though, after Wednesday Addams came around. For one, Enid shifted.

additional clarification: Wednesday and Enid have an established relationship. Story follows the POV of an outsider.

You stood in the middle of the room, hands fiddling with the clicker as you tried to look for anything amiss. The sheet was set up on the wall, the projector was powered up and ready to go, the cushions were on the ground, and the additional reading material and the pamphlet you'd printed out were all there. You hadn't wanted to be presumptuous, so you hadn't gotten any snacks. Well, you'd gotten them, in case they asked. They were stashed in your cupboard space. But you didn't want to seem weird or too eager, or something.

You weren't sure if this was more of a casual hangout with a slideshow, or just a purely academic pursuit. You couldn't even say which was preferable. You wanted friends, but the journey of making them seemed so stressful.

As it was the weekend, you were out of uniform. You'd contemplated just wearing it to save you the trouble of having to pick out an outfit, but in the end, even a shitty outfit seemed less weird than the stiff school uniform. All of your clothes were hand-me-downs and thrifted, not in the trendy way, so you'd put some real effort into looking presentable.

You had on the best pants you owned, a pair of black trousers that were only slightly too big on you. You'd cuffed them yourself and were pretty proud of your handiwork. Because they were black, the slightly uneven stitching wasn't even that noticeable. You'd put on your cleanest tee shirt, a grey one with an old Autoshop logo on the front. It was a bit worn, the logo chipping away, but it had no visible stains.

You inspected your glasses, squinting your eyes. You held them up in the light. You wiped at the lenses with the hem of your shirt. No smudges, please.

The specs almost clattered to the ground when somebody knocked on your door. You shoved them back onto your nose and rushed to the door.

"Hi!" Enid chirped, dressed as colourfully as ever and with Wednesday in tow.

"Hello," You said and opened the door wider for them. "Please, come in."

"I'm so excited! I've never heard of different types of werewolves!" Oh, Enid, she was so pure. You could only smile, feeling a little dread already. The subject was pretty darn bleak.

"I'm curious as to how the nature of lycans differs from that of werewolves." Wednesday's sharp eyes caught yours. "Is this seating for us?" She pointed down at the cushions.

"Yeah! I figured the floor cushions would be more comfy than the chairs. One of you can borrow my desk chair, if you'd rather do that. I, um, I heard you're allergic to, uh, colour, Wednesday, so I put a black towel on it." You motioned to the floor, walking to your spot next to the white sheet. "If that's okay."

"Hmm," Wednesday said nothing as she primly sunk onto the towel-covered cushion. Wordlessly, she dug into her bag and pulled out a little notebook along with a fountain pen. Alright. So, she was all good.

You turned to Enid, who was looking at you with a quizzical look on her face.

"Would- would you like some water or something?" You'd never played host before. You hoped you were doing alright.

"Thanks, but we're good. We might go grab a bite to eat later, though. You should come with!" Enid said as she settled down next to Wednesday.

Oh. My. Gosh. More hanging out. You hadn't even proved yourself to be okay company yet. Enid's generosity really knew no bounds.

"Yeah!" Your voice cracked. "Uh, yeah, sure. Sounds great." You gave a jerky thumbs-up. Internally, you berated yourself for being so uncool.

Better to start now and breeze over your disastrous handling of social interaction. You flicked the lights off, save for the little lamp on the floor next to the cushions. So they'd see to take notes. You'd really thought of everything.

Clicking to show the first slide, you pointed between the two figures of anthropomorphic wolves standing somewhat upright. One was ragged and frothing at the mouth, bigger in stature, and sported a generally mangy appearance. The other had a smoother coat, looked perfectly calm, and had a more hunched back.

"This one," You stopped on the mangy-looking wolf. "Is a lycan. That one," You went back to the tamer-looking wolf. "Is a werewolf. I'm first gonna touch on some general stuff, like history, then what the specific differences are, then why those differences exist, and then I'll talk a little more about, uh, the social aspects."

Your two pupils nodded along. One did so enthusiastically, her head bobbing up and down rapidly, and the other nodded so minutely you wouldn't have caught if you weren't focusing on their reactions like a hawk. Swallowing, you gathered every smidge of confidence you could find and got on with it.

"Werewolves came first. Technically. It's a little unclear as to how they came to be as there's little written history. Different communities and old packs all have their stories, mythology passed along from generation to generation. It could be a curse, a blessing, an omen." You clicked to the next slide, where there were some specific origin stories. "For example, the O'Brien pack-"

"My dad's surname was O'Brien!" Enid perked up.

"It's likely he used to be a member! Where is he from?"

"He's originally from Northern Michigan."

"Oh, there you go. It's very likely he's the current alpha's son or grandson, depending on how old he is. He's probably got a more submissive temperament, which is why he took your mother's name." Oh no, you shouldn't assume her parents were married. "Or why you got her name."

"Yeah, he took her name. I thought they did that just 'cause..." Enid murmured.

"I... I don't know your family's specific traditions. It's just, uh, it's common for wolves to take the more dominant partner's surname when getting married." You glanced between them. Wednesday was writing down notes, eyes honed in on the projection. Enid looked at her girlfriend, biting her lip. You decided to continue.

"Um, so... The O'Brien pack is largely credited for bringing the monotheistic belief in the moon goddess over to the States in the 1800s. There's a lot of bloody, violent history in the conflict between native werewolves and settler werewolves, just as with humans- or normies, whichever term applies. I'm sure you two are familiar with that aspect of history, so I won't go into detail. Um." You checked to see if they were still on board.

"Question?" Enid asked, raising her hand tentatively.

"Yeah, go for it!" You fiddled with the clicker anxiously.

"My family believes in the Greek pantheon, specifically Selene." Enid scratched at her cheek. "How's that tie in with everything?"

"Oh yes, so basically werewolf religion can be split into two baseline camps, so to speak. Camp One consists of worshippers of a singular moon goddess and Camp Two is a belief in spirituality and natural forces. Within these camps are kind of sub-groups. For example, werewolves of Irish origin tend to believe in Irish mythology and, in turn, those of Greek origin believe in Greek mythology." You beamed, happy to answer her question. "Of course, in some cases, ancestry has nothing to do with anything, since culture and religion spread through people, not blood."

"I don't think we have Greek ancestry..." Enid muttered. "Maybe? I'm gonna have to ask."

"It's possible you don't, 'cause there was a uh, a trend in the 1950s that led to a lot of spiritually aligned werewolves converting to Selene." You shrugged. "Could be either way."

Enid also shrugged.

"So, uh, factually and scientifically, that's all, like... Wrong." You didn't know how else to put it. "Obviously, the point of religion is not to be correct, it is largely a comfort for people to believe in something greater than themselves, but there have been several, ill-received studies on exactly what werewolfism is."

"I assume this is not material that has been taught in your classes." Wednesday looked to Enid, who was gaping at the projection currently on a slide that had a picture of a DNA strand. "Why?"

"Well... I assume it's 'cause the teacher is a firm believer in werewolf creationism, which as a story is really convoluted and, just, impossible to summarize, so he doesn't spend much time teaching things he doesn't believe are true."

"That is..." Wednesday trailed off. "Alarming."

"I did file a complaint to Principal Weems during freshman year, but it didn't really go anywhere." You said meekly.

"I- I didn't know there was actual, I dunno, medical research on werewolves!" Enid blurted out, the words tumbling off her tongue.

"Fascinating, is it not?" You perked up. "Human doctors have done a fair bit of it, too! That's why werewolves can go to the hospital and get bloodwork done without being outed. Basically, all werewolves have a gene that makes it possible for them to shift forms. Studying it is hard, possibly due to some innate magical interference, not everything can be explained with science, but so far only werewolf researchers have been able to glean that this is, in fact, the source of their power. Humans have determined that the gene is responsible for some passive traits, such as a more efficient immune system, higher average body temp, and a faster metabolism.

"And this does bring us, finally, to the lycans. Lycans are humans subjected to the bite of a werewolf. It's been speculated that the werewolf gene is a mutation that evolved in response to exposure to the Lycan Infection over centuries. For the body to sustain the transformation, it needed to change, get stronger. Survival of the fittest with some supernatural road blocking, the results were remarkably successful."

"The Lycan Infection?" Wednesday uttered, looking up from her notebook to stare at you. You shivered, a chill travelling up your arms to your neck.

"Yes- yes, um, that's... The Lycan Infection is what made the majority of werewolves today. That's what the pathogen is called. It's unclear where it originated and how exactly it came to be." You clicked through a few slides. "There are some records of werewolves before the infection, but by no means enough to determine population numbers or anything substantial."

"So, we're all sick?" Enid asked, sounding downtrodden.

"Well, no, not really." You said, prompting her to tilt her head. She was precious. "Werewolves only carry it passively. Only lycans are, well, sick." You pursed your lips.

"Oh. I'm sorry." Enid said, eyes all sad and lips pouty.

"No! No, there's no need to be sorry! I like being a lycan." For the most part, you left unsaid. "It's totally fine."

"You were bitten, yes?" Wednesday asked poignantly.

"Wednesday!" Enid hissed, hitting her on the arm. Wednesday was unfazed, eyes locked onto yours.

"Yeah." You nodded slowly, trying to keep calm. "I was eight."

There was an awkward pause.

"Um! That happened, but I'm so fine right now. So fine. Nothing is wrong. Like, ever." You tapped your hands together. "So, lycans."

The lesson continued. Lycans looked like that 'cause the pathogen intercepted the growth of fur, caused an over-production of mucus and saliva, and accelerated nail growth. Due to lycans missing the werewolf gene, they retained more human features during the shift whereas werewolves could pass as normal wolves for a second, though only for a second. The absence of the gene also caused transformations to be more painful, a lack of mental agency in wolf form, and added stress to joints and ligaments.

"Yeah, lycans have a life expectancy of about thirty-five to forty-"

"You're- you're expected to die at forty?" Enid screeched. "At the latest?"

"Yeah?" You tilted your head to the side. "Y'know, it's been on the rise for the last ten years! It used to be thirty to thirty-five!"

You kept talking, kept showing slides, and Enid continued to be stunned, Wednesday remaining passive. Lycans were shunned from werewolf communities, generally denied access to packs and werewolf-specific health centres, and more often than not infertile. Lycans, due to their uncontrolled nature, were unable to form structured packs or support systems, leading to isolation and loneliness or unstable, abusive psedo-packs. Due to these issues, the most perpetuated stereotypes of lycans were that they were involved in street gangs, did drugs, and resorted to violence easily.

By the end of it, Enid was pretty much holding back tears. You'd fucked up. This was a mistake. You should've kept her ignorant. What would she even do with all this info? It wasn't like any of this was actually useful. The textbook section about lycans was basically cautions and warnings to stay the eff away.

"That's so tragic. You're just ill, is all. You need help, not exile." Enid sniffled. She wasn't quite crying, but her eyes were welling up. Wednesday was even holding her hand. You knew the goth didn't like touch, so that was probably a huge deal.

"I'm sorry." You didn't know what else to say. You sat down on the floor in front of them, feeling uncomfortable standing while they sat. You shuffled your weight, trying to think of something to make this better.

"You def have to join my pack. I've been looking for people to run with and I thought to ask you first since we've been sitting together for so long."

"Um." Thing was, you would've loved to. You'd have really loved to run with her. "I- uh, there's a great possibility I'd try to hurt you. And besides, I'm not allowed out on full moons."

Werewolves had the added benefit of not needing to shift much aside from when the moon was full. If you wanted to not be in utter agony, you needed to shift at least once a day. You had an allotted free period every weekday so you could go for a run on the grounds.

So, even if you could technically both run as wolves at the same time, Enid only really had reason to shift during full moons, conveniently the only time you'd be unable to join her. Fate was playing tricks on you, dangling a treat just above your nose. You felt like a dog with a piece of cheese on its nose, being told to wait, wait, wait.

"We could break you out." Wednesday pointed out. "I need to investigate the broken cage either way."

"Yeah! And I beat a hyde! No offence, but I could handle you."

How to say yes without sounding too excited by the prospect? How to quell a sense of foreboding doom, because there was a possibility, however small, that you too had beat a hyde?

You wanted to run with her. You wanted to be in her pack. You wanted, you wanted, you'd wanted for so long.

You were gonna do it.

"Sure. Yes! If- if you wanted to do that, you totally should! If you wanted to. And it wouldn't be too, uh, too complicated." You swallowed thickly, shrinking under their gazes. Both had such intense eyes. "And, um, just as a precaution, I could get some horse tranquillizer darts for Wednesday to have in case I get... Nasty. Just in case!"

Wednesday grinned. It was a terrifying expression. You couldn't look her in the eye. Cold sweat dampened your neck.

"Don't look so excited." Enid chastised her girlfriend and got up. "Aw, fuck, my knees." She whined, rubbing them. You got that. Your knees hurt, like, all the time. "Let's go eat!"

"Hm. Acceptable." Wednesday rose smoothly and deposited her pen and notebook back into her bag.

"Have fun," You waved.

"Oh, aren't you coming? I heard there's good dessert today." Enid, gracious soul, good heart, you'd never forget her kindness.

"I'll come! If you want!" You glanced at Wednesday. She didn't seem particularly offended by your presence, so you took that to mean you two were cool.

"Yeah!" Enid laughed a little, motioning for you to join them.

You skipped over to them, unable to hide the glee pouring off you. It would be fine. It would be so fine. It would be so fine that it'd actually be so unremarkable that after the fact you'd wonder what you'd even been so worried about.

It probably wasn't even you.

Taglist: [completely honest, i totally forgot about the taglist. adding it hours later lmao.] @screechcat, @filthy-sanvers-paws, @atticus-shits-n-giggles

[smusherina]

when will the epilogues for yard work be out? :))

hmmmm i'll predict uhhhhh at the latest next weekend. so not this weekend, but the next. giving myself lotta time in case an IRL thing or a block comes up. but i'm confident in saying next week!

[smusherina]

this was a really good allegory!

so when straight people ask me why I say I’m “queer” or “gay” instead of sharing my actual identity as a panromantic demisexual non-binary sapphic queer I just tell them “ok look, when you’re talking to someone who isn’t local and they ask you where you’re from and you either say the name of the largest city nearby or ‘town name, suburb of large nearby city’ so they can get some geographical context of where you’re located right, bc they’re probably not going to know the name of the little town you actually live in.”

but if you’re talking to a local you can say the name of your actual town bc they have a greater chance of knowing where/what that is.

ok well when I’m talking to a straight person I start with queer bc chances are they aren’t as familiar with the context of all the little towns in that big queer city and need gps (gay positioning system) to find me.

if I’m talking to another queer person and I say I live in a suburb of gay city in a town called panromantic on the demisexual side of the tracks which is in the county of queer and I live off the intersection of non-binary and sapphic, they’d probably be able to find me with little to no problems, make sense?

[smusherina]

psa! added a new page

navigation is for navigating (lol) the stuff i've written so far. there's links to chapters and a neat list of ever-growing creative stuffs! yay!

[smusherina]

I love how pathetic your characters are. Also, yard work was absolutely fantastic and I'm excited for the intricacies of werewolfism. Your writing is great, thank you for providing the people with good fics

i guess they are sorta pathetic. it’s the self-insert of it all LMAO

so glad you’ve liked my stuff so far! i live to serve the people 🫡

[smusherina]

the intricacies of werewolfism (and other afflictions) - chapter 1 (wenclair)

fandom: Wednesday (2022), Addams Family (all media)

pairing: (romantic) Wednesday Addams x Enid Sinclair (platonic) OFC/Reader x Wenclair

summary: You'd been keeping an eye out for Enid Sinclair since freshman year. There'd been a silent camaraderie between you, both sitting in the very back of the room during Furs specific classes. Things changed, though, after Wednesday Addams came around. For one, Enid shifted.

additional clarification: Wednesday and Enid have an established relationship. Story follows the POV of an outsider.

It wasn't like you were angry at her. No, you could only be happy that not only had they (whoever they were, that was never clarified to you) saved the school from, uh, genocide, but Enid had shifted for the first time. That was a pivotal moment in any young werewolf's life, especially for Enid since she'd been latent.

You were angry at everything that would change. You'd been different and she'd been different, so you'd sort of banded together, y'know? Now, she was no longer that while you still were. You were alone. Again. You couldn't bring yourself to not be bitter about that.

Then again, it wasn't like you were really friends. You didn't talk, ever. You just sat next to one another in Werewolf Studies class. Your bond was totally one-sided, with you having latched onto any kindness shown to you by a peer. Because just sitting next to you was a kindness. Gosh, you sounded pathetic.

You'd liked her and wanted to be her friend so bad, but had never gathered the courage. You'd spent your evenings alone in your room, wondering what it'd be like being a friend of Enid Sinclair's.

You sounded so creepy and stalkerish. Maybe you were. You didn't actively follow her around or anything, or fantasize about her, or do anything like that. That was gross and violating. You just... You were lonely.

You had some time to get used to the idea. The fall semester ended early due to the normie teacher turning out to be a scheming bitch and resurrecting an evil pilgrim, apparently, so you'd have plenty of time to digest your new predicament.

Usually, for long holidays like summer vacation, you'd travel back to whence you came, but you hadn't had time to make arrangements amid everything. You knew your usual hosts wouldn't be pleased to take you in on such short notice.

You'd been given special permission from Weems to stay in school during winter break the previous years, which was shorter than summer vacation but longer than any of the other mid-season breaks, but considering she was dead you didn't quite know what to do. Was that permission still valid? Your roommate packed her bags as did everybody else. You watched from the balcony as everybody got in their parents' cars or boarded the bus. You packed up your essentials just in case they had some last-minute arrangements for you.

You expected to have a teacher come talk to you at some point. Tell you where you'd be going or if you were going to be staying. Pick-up day passed. The teachers and staff lingered for a bit longer. The cleaners left, then the cooks. A sinking feeling manifested in your belly as you realized there'd be no daily meals. Eventually, the others left too. You were alone at Nevermore.

Fuck. Fuck.

Fine. It was fine. Everything was fine. You got yourself into this mess. You should've opened your mouth and said something instead of assuming the teachers would check in on everybody. They didn't have that sort of time. In between hiring a new botany teacher and a new principal, buffing the sheriff's efforts to launch an investigation on the school, and assuring Jericho residents of their safety, obviously, they would forget about you.

Despite all your efforts to rationalize it in your mind, it did sting. But you made do. Once the initial panic wore off, you were able to make some plans.

You used the kitchen to make your own meals. You'd been cooking for yourself for a long time, so it was no biggie. There was plenty of stuff with a long shelf life stored away, so you didn't even have to go shopping that much. You made it a point to stay away from town as much as possible, only getting the essentials at odd, not-busy hours of the day. You were pretty invisible and unnoticeable, but you could appear only so many times out of nowhere before people began to wonder where that teenager lived if not in town.

It was actually pretty chill. A whole school to yourself. Sometimes, you pranced around, pretending like you owned the place. That was fun. Honestly, it wasn't that different from how you spent your days at school, except with less studying.

One key difference, though, was how you spent the full moon. For a wolf like you, it was vital to shift as often as possible in order to maintain a steady grip on reality during the full moon. Even so, due to your type being prone to feral behaviour, you were used to being locked up every full moon. You couldn't properly secure the cage from the inside.

You tried to do it the first time but woke up in the woods the next morning. Tough luck. Usually, you were able to maintain some lucidity during the shift, but you suspected that was due to the magical influence of the cage. Outside of it, your power was untapped and thus, you'd blacked out.

You'd probably attacked a mountain lion or something, maybe a bear, considering you were covered in blood and gashes. You were quite sure most of it was not yours. A lot of it was around your mouth. You felt it in your tummy, the large meal still roiling around.

Werewolf healing came in handy. The scratches healed in no time, though did take longer than usual. The predator must've gotten you good.

You didn't bother with the cages the next time around. You'd broken the one you'd escaped from and those things couldn't be cheap.

Every day, you'd wake up in the morning and do your routine. Pee, brush teeth, put on deodorant, go down for breakfast. Go for a run, first in human form then wolf form, shower, snack. Study, read a topical book, snack break, study some more, nap. Chores, like laundry or dishes, make dinner and eat it, go patrol the grounds, sleep. On nights of the full moon, you'd finish your day with the patrol and only go to sleep in the morning when you found yourself naked in the woods.

You weren't really Christian in the sense that you'd ever gone to church, but your family had celebrated Christmas. You treated yourself to a big slab of ham that you wolfed down. Ha.

New Year's was much the same. A slightly better dinner than usual. Then you went back to your room to play video games.

It was all pretty boring. A nice vacation, all in all, but nothing too thrilling. A little modern survivalist. Your roommate came back along with the rest of the student body. She scowled at you in greeting as always. It was quite jarring, going from the echoing, empty hallways to every corner being packed. It was loud.

Something you hadn't expected, though, was that your stay was cause for concern. You probably should've come clean immediately to avoid all this. They took stock of the kitchen and found things missing as well as some unaccounted-for fresh ingredients. God forbid you wanted to eat vegetables. The broken werewolf cage caused a stir, which you could understand. The common consensus was that those things were unbreakable.

People thought that somebody, an outsider, had broken in and lived in the school. There were rumours that they were still at Nevermore, lurking, watching. Some speculated it was Tyler, the Hyde.

That theory was disproven soon enough, as Sheriff Galpin came to the school to give a public announcement. His son had been missing for quite some time, as he had escaped the vehicle transporting him, but had recently been found. Or, rather, his remains had been found.

The sheriff implied that the person who'd invaded Nevermore might have likely been his son's killer. To the public, the case was made out to be as if Tyler had somehow slipped away from the cops transporting him to juvie, gotten lost in the woods, and been victim to an animal attack. Everybody knew what animal attack really meant.

If anybody knew anything, they were to come to him at once. Nobody stepped up. Not even you, especially not you. You were sweating bullets, antsy and sick to your stomach. Had you attacked him? Eaten him? Were you a cannibal now? Oh no, what if you got that brain disease from this? Oh no, you had probably eaten a person.

You should've said something. You should've given yourself in. The teachers would've made you go back to your carers despite them being labelled as unfit in your file, but that was just how things were. You should've been able to stomach that. You did so every summer. If you'd told the truth to the teachers or the sheriff, you'd have been arrested for murder, probably. It would mean proving every presumption about you and your kind right, and ruining your life forever. You didn't want that. Wasn't that what you deserved, though?

Weeks passed. School started up again. The snow was slow to melt, the frigid temperatures clinging to the stone walls of Nevermore, causing a permanent chill to permeate the halls. Adding to the dreary atmosphere was the sad reality of the principal not being a tall woman clad in all white at all times, but the frumpy vice principal Frankenfroot, and the unease created by the mysterious invader.

Amidst the all-around grey atmosphere, stood out one girl. Enid Sinclair. You hadn't been paying as much attention to her as before, with all this mystery bullcrap stressing you out beyond belief.

She'd skipped the first couple of Werewolf Studies classes, so it took you a while to be near her. You assumed she'd been given some private lessons to make up for the years she was unable to participate in the practical aspects of the class.

You hadn't seen much of her during or immediately after the whole ordeal last year, so the changes to her were very stark to you. The scars, now only slightly more pink than the rest of her skin, stood out. As far as scars went, they were pretty fortunately placed and fairly clean. No jagged lines or disfigurement. Aesthetically pleasing scars. And even if she hadn't had such luck, you bet she would've rocked them just the same. They looked nice. Was that okay to say about scars? How could you be a foot-in-mouth in your own head?

Also, she smelled different. More wolfy, less perfumy. You liked it. The musky earth smell definitely added to her usual floral notes.

"Um, hey, so..." Enid said as she packed her books into her bag. "Excuse me, uh, what's your name?" You tapped your finger on your chin, trying to put yourself in her shoes. You had plenty of scars. None on your face, though, There was a pretty gnarly one going from your collarbone to the back of your ear, though.

"Hey," Enid's voice came alarmingly close to you. You turned your head. She was looking right at you. Why was she looking at you?

"Are you ignoring me?" She asked, bag on her shoulder and a slightly offended look on her face.

"What?" You blurted out, looking around. The classroom had emptied. "Are you talking to me?"

"Who else?" She sassed. You supposed that should've been obvious.

"Sorry. Sorry! Um. What were you saying?" Trying to be as normal as possible, you got up to pack your own things. You hoped she couldn't see your knees wobbling.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to form a pack with me." She seemed to relax, maybe getting the vibe you weren't trying to agitate her on purpose.

"Huh?" Your hands shook. You held onto your backpack with white knuckles. "Aren't you gonna join the school pack?"

There was the school pack, which was led by the professor during full moon runs, but there was also the option of forming your own pack. Some of the seniors did that, mostly pack-leaders-to-be getting in some practice before the real deal.

You'd spent a good chunk of the break working to accept that Enid was going to be leaving you for the school pack. You'd been so prepared, so ready, to be ditched that now that she wasn't doing that, you had no idea how to act.

"I don't wanna be around them. They didn't give a fuck about me until I shifted, and when I finally did suddenly they wanna be all buddy-buddy!" She huffed and gestured with her arms. She was so animated. "I just feel like that's fake AF. That's not how you care about a person, y'know?"

"Totally." You whispered, sounding a little too reverent. "Um, I would love to, I really would, but I'm a lycanthrope."

You waited for her to grimace, recoil, make some sort of remark. None came. Only her confused face.

"Uh... I know. We're both werewolves."

"No, I mean, yes, we are, but..." You wondered how you could explain this in a sensitive but also appropriately informative way. "You've never heard of lycans, have you?"

"I thought werewolves and lycans were the same thing." She said. Oh boy. Not an uncommon misconception, but one that could cost dearly.

"Nope. Uh, the bare bones are the same but some relevant details are totally different." You chewed on your lips a bit. "I've read ahead a bit in the textbook, so I know we're gonna cover it this year. I'm kinda like an experience-specialist! Haha. Um, so, if you don't care that's totally understandable and no worries, so I could give you a brief rundown if you want, but-" You took a deep breath. "I could explain it more. In depth, I mean. Like, a slide show, or something."

You sounded like an idiot. Who the frick offered a private slide show to an almost complete stranger? You'd humiliated yourself. Utterly humiliated yourself and your bloodline.

"Oh my gosh! I would love that!" She said, probably just not showing how she felt bad for you. "Can I bring my girlfriend?"

You didn't know they'd begun dating. You would've expected to hear those news circulating around the school, but apparently not. Maybe it wasn't that big of a deal.

"Wednesday? Oh, yeah, she can come." You thought about that for a moment. "I think she'd find lycans very interesting."

"That..." Enid pursed her lips and tilted her head. "Huh. I see. Are lycans like, more bloodthirsty or something like that?"

"Kinda," That was sort of a disparaging stereotype, but it was rooted in some truth. The reality was much more convoluted.

"When and where?" She pulled out her phone. Probably making a note. You were important enough for a note?

"Um, my roommate doesn't spend a lot of time in our room so we could do it over the weekend at mine? I'm in Juliet Hall." Your hands trembled as you dug your phone out of your pocket. "I- I could add you. If you wanted."

"Yeah! What's your user?" You said it. "Got it. I added you, add me back!" You did as she asked, vision blurring with the intensity you were staring at the screen. "Fab! I'll text you details later tonight, yeah?" At your nod, she whirled around. "Gotta dash! Bu-bye!"

"Bu-bye..." You murmured after her.

Notes: A new series! This time Wenclair. Or, a platonic OC/Enid with a side of Wenclair. I've been ruminating on this concept for a long time, so I wanted to put it out there as soon as I finished my last series. I totally get if this isn't people's cup of tea, the focus is off the main attraction after all, but y'know. It's here. Do what you will.

This whole thing was borne of me wanting Enid to have a werewolf friend. She deserves a buddy to be dogs with! Also, world-building with werewolves is so fun! Fun fact about me, I'm a seasoned omegaverse writer :) We'll see if I get to do any of that in my later series teehee.

If you wish to be on the taglist, comment so on this post!

[smusherina]

Hi, I hope you're having a great day/night just wanted to say I love yard work and can't wait for the epilogues. It's easily one of my favourite stories i've read on here your writing is amazing <3

it amazes me that people are finding the series to be one of their favourites. insanely flattering. i appreciate it sm and y'all telling me even more so.

i'm having a great evening so far, thank you! i hope your time of day is going alright as well :)

[smusherina]

Do NOT change the name 😭 I'm attached to Yard Work

LMAO i totally get that. i think it's cute people are so attached to the title. i'm not gonna take that away :)

[smusherina]

I loveee your yard work series so much. The suspenceeeee. I look forward to reading the latest chapter every time I see it in my feed 😊

i'm getting to answering these way too late, but hey! better late than never? i guess.

thank you sm, i appreciate the support :) hopefully the last chapter lived up to expectations.

[smusherina]

taglist for yard work! the FINAL chapter has been posted! (16)

below are the mentioned/tagged people. no content in this post. feel free to comment on this post to be added to the taglist!

@autorasexy​

@wedfan2​

@unadulterated-moron​

@modernsapphicism​

@9unknown0​

@sage-rose2000​

@massive-honkas​

@nattys-swiftie​

@likefirenrain​

@luz-enjoyer​

@dandelions4us​

@natashamaximoff-69​

@alexkolax​

@jareaul0ver​

@here4theqts​

@charleeeesworld​

@natsbiggestfan1​

@brocoliisscared​

@yellowwallflowers​

@scarlettbitchx​

@ayoungexwife​

@cyberbonesworld​

@syddie-reads​

@screechcat​

@theenglishswiftie​

@gabby-duhh​

@sweetmissnothing​

@masterofpuppets-10​

@l1lass​

@starved-mortal​

@nothanksbye07​

@nenas19​

@jvuyii​

@starry-night17​

@reneeswife24​

@glorioushamsterqueen​

@krononan​

@slug-on-bike​

@rayisaknight​

@chaseatlanticlover91​

@reginassweetheart​

@mirage018​

@thyhooligans​

@rainbow-love4ever​

@enderjr1234​

@kites-writes​

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 16 [final chapter] (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

warning(s): talk of past drug use and withdrawal symptoms.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 9 / chapter 10 / chapter 11 / chapter 12 / chapter 13 / chapter 14 / chapter 15

[love renée but fuck am i getting sick of this gif. been looking at it for sixteen goshdarned chapters. finally i am freed.]

You woke up first. Naturally. Every time, every single morning that you'd had sleepovers, you'd been the first to wake up. The sun was shining through the blinds in a pleasant, warm yellow tone. Still morning but not unreasonably early.

You shifted to a more upright position, looking down at the girl still snoozing, whose hand was holding onto your forearm. She was all sprawled out, starfished as much as one could be on a couch. Her body was taking up the shorter end of the L-shape, one knee curled up towards her body, just barely on the couch, while the other stretched well beyond the end of the divan. You were situated much the same, except the other way around. You laid on the longer end so that your heads had almost met in the corner.

Her arms reached out towards you, one around your pillow and the other holding onto you. You knew you'd fallen asleep with much more distance between you, but you couldn't say you minded her having drifted.

Did you, though? You sighed and grumbled as you got up. Might as well do something while you contemplated reality, or something. Mrs George had insisted on some classic American breakfast ingredients, such as bacon and pancake mix. You didn't feel like causing a fire hazard, so pancakes were a no-go, at least for now. Eggs and bacon you could do.

What did you even, like, want? Realistically, actually, no, unrealistically what did you want? There was no sense in trying to make your base wants and desires realistic because at that point was any of that yours anymore? Likely not.

You wanted nights spent with Regina, talking and eating take-out, laughing until your tummy hurt and looking at her glowing in the blue light of whatever Adult Swim show was on at the time. You wanted grocery trips with Mrs George and to go to Kylie's games. You wanted people at school to just, simply not be jerks. You wanted Janis to find peace. You wanted Cady to wake up.

You wanted yesterday to not have happened. You wanted Thanksgiving dinner at the Georges' to never have happened. You wanted for your dad to be different, for Mr George to be different. You wanted your mom to not have died.

Looking at the bacon sizzling in the pan, you chewed on your lips and thought about that. You wanted many things. So many things, mostly for things to not have happened or to have happened differently. It was all wildly unrealistic. You were not a wizard, a time-traveller, or some other mystic being. You were a teenager.

You cracked the eggs into the mix. God, it smelled divine. You pulled a salt and pepper shaker from the spice rack and sprinkled a reasonable amount on there. You groaned out loud and threw your head back when you remembered there was sriracha in the fridge. Mrs George had seen you eyeing the bottle and had not taken a no for an answer, despite your abundant protestations.

"Spare your kitchen utensils the horror and go masturbate in your room like a normal person!" Regina hollered from the living room.

"Oh! Spatula! Harder! Harder!" You cried, moaning like you were receiving the blowie of your life. "If you want breakfast you're gonna have to witness this sordid affair." You called back, giggling. You leaned back from the stove, bending back at the waist. Regina was leaning her chin on the armrest, still more or less sprawled on your couch. There was a pout on her lips and a light flush to her cheeks.

"I'll show you sordid, nerd." She grouched before getting up. You straightened your posture, turning back to the stove, and probed the eggs in the pan with the spatula with a satisfied grin on your face.

You wanted this and more, above all. Was that something you were allowed to want? More importantly, was that something you were allowed to ask for?

Regina came up behind you, hand coming to rest on the small of your back. You didn't jump, much, which you were proud of.

"Looks yummy." She pointed out.

You hummed in agreement. "Can you put toast in the toaster?"

"Sure."

Then, as if no time at all passed, you were sitting down. Then eating and chatting. There was toast, eggs and bacon, and you'd made yourself a bowl of oatmeal. Mrs George had splurged on some blueberries and local honey. Regina refused to make eye contact when you were chewing, citing that your O-face was hard to look at. You only moaned louder and made more faces at her.

Then, just as you were heading to the couch to digest the meal as god intended, lying down, Regina yanked you to the foyer. Still in your jammies and everything, she insisted you bundle up and go for that walk she was talking about yesterday.

You'd hoped she would've forgotten. Sure, the weather was nice for once but if you didn't have to go outside then why would you? It was below freezing!

Much like her mother, she would not budge. You were going on a walk.

"What am I? A dog?" You muttered as you wrapped your scarf around your neck.

"If you were a dog, you'd be a... A Doberman." She was already dressed. It was odd for your roles to have switched like this. Usually, you were the one waiting for her to get ready. She had on a thick, white parka and a cute beanie. She also had on black leggings sure to insulate absolutely nothing and bulky, also black, fur boots.

"What? 'Cause I'm big and scary?" You preened at that, smiling widely.

"Nope." She tilted her head, examining you. "Gloves."

"Geez, okay, mom." You grabbed some mittens from the hat rack. "Why Doberman?"

"They wouldn't look so scary if they didn't have their ears clipped, y'know?" She said. You just looked at her weirdly, not catching her meaning. Your ears were not clipped. "Anyway, let's go."

"Aye aye," With that, you were out of the door.

You walked the block and down to the street. The sidewalk stopped so you went by the side of the road. She was walking ahead of you. It was cold out but not too windy, so it didn't feel so bad.

The sidewalk started again eventually. There, you walked side by side. You were just looking at a bird perched on a wire when you felt her grab your hand. Thinking she had something to say, you turned to look at her. She was still facing forward, the other hand in her pocket, walking along. She was just holding your hand.

Oh. Oh. She was holding your hand. Out in public. Not a lot of people were out at this hour, not even cars since it was a weekend. There was a woman with a stroller. A psychopathic man out on a jog. A dog walker. Still, it was outside where anyone who walked by could see.

You arrived at the park, hands clasped together. You stopped by a bench.

"I don't think we should sit." You said, observing the coating of snow piled on top.

"Let's go over there." Regina pointed to a tree a little ways away.

You went obediently, following the tug of her hand in yours. She was holding your hand. You felt all warm in your chest, like you were full of warm water.

You stopped by the tree. She looked around, trying to spot if anybody was nearby. Then, like she had a secret to tell you, she motioned for you to bend down closer. You did. Her hand squeezed at your fingers as the other came up to your neck, pulling you down the rest of the way.

The warmth you'd felt became hot, like an oil fire erupting in the foil-covered saucepan that was your heart, kernels and half-popped popcorn sputtering out as she kissed you. Your eyes just barely got to shutter closed before she pulled away. Instinctively, your body so starved of affection and touch, you chased her and found her lips again.

She smiled against your mouth. It felt like a secret of the utmost importance being shared, like a pinkie finger wrapped around your own in the corner of the room during a sleepover, giggled promises and childish adoration. She tasted vaguely like breakfast, and maybe egg-breath should've been nasty, but it wasn't.

Cold seeping in, the anxious feeling like you were soon going to be caught taking hold, you pulled away. You didn't lean away entirely, crowding her against the tree. When you'd gotten so close, pinned her, you weren't sure.

"Do..." What were you supposed to say post-kiss? "Do you like it sloppy?"

"What?" Her brows furrowed and the smile on her face turned sharper. What to say post-kiss: Not That.

"Uh, I mean, I just- uh..." You swallowed. "I don't know how to, like, I don't have technique. I dunno. Was that good? I saw Aaron was doing it differently..."

Regina rolled her eyes, head thumping lightly against the tree as her neck lolled back. "You would bring up Aaron now." She sighed. "It's fine. It's- it's good."

"Okay." You swallowed again. A slow smile crept up to your face. "It was good?"

"Ugh, yes, shut up." She shoved you away, but you just allowed the momentum to swing you back to her. "I... I don't think I'm good at words."

You chuckled at that. "No, you're not." She glared. You shrugged. "But, hey, you know me. I'm Chatty Kathy."

"No," She huffed through her nose, seemingly in frustration. "I wish I could say to you what I mean. What I feel. But I just... It's... It's not supposed to be but it's embarrassing."

Looking at her, hunched in on herself like a girl her age was supposed to be at times, so different from how she was most of the time, made your chest feel tight. You figured a person having been raised like she was, having turned out the way she had, would find being vulnerable uncomfortable. Or, as she said it, embarrassing.

Then again, it wasn't your place nor your duty to psycho-analyze her.

"Reg, I..." You hesitated. "I'm tired of, like, sitting in the passenger seat while you bulldoze everyone. I'm tired of feeling like if I do something you don't like you'll push me under too." You pulled away from her, hands getting sore from leaning your weight against the rough bark. "And then there's this whole thing." You gestured around you at the empty park. "Even if we were the best couple ever in terms of, I dunno, vibes or something, we're still..."

"Lesbians." She finished for you. "I'm a lesbian, Jorts." A sentence you never thought you'd hear from Regina George. "I know. For me, it felt justified for a long time, keeping them in their place, but since we started talking again, doing all that stuff just started to seem... Unimportant. And stupid." She fiddled with her fingers, eyes glued to the space between you. "It hasn't gone away. I still want to, I guess, hurt people because it does make me feel better even if it's, like, fucked up. But I want something else more than I want that."

"What's that?" You couldn't help but ask, hope stuck in your throat. Choking hazard.

"You, obviously." She said it so flippantly as if those words didn't just send your heart into the Milky Way. "I want you. I'll stop doing that stuff for you. I know we can't be out yet, but I... I have good grades."

You looked at her, puzzled. She huffed and continued. "I'll go to college. Major in, uh, I dunno, some sorta politics and I'll change the law. Maybe a law degree would work better for that, actually." She seemed to think about it for a moment before returning to her point. "Whichever one would be best in getting gay marriage legalized."

"You..." You had to laugh at that, disbelieving as well as delighted. "You're gonna change the world for me?"

"If that's what it takes." She said, determination shining so bright it made your eyes water.

"Wow, okay." You licked your lips, trying to will the stupid grin off your face. You had some important questions still. "If I moved away, would you still stop?"

She paused at that. Took a moment to really look at you, like she hadn't considered that to be a real possibility.

"Yes." She sounded so sure you believed her. "I just don't have... What it takes anymore. I guess. I don't know if there's something wrong with me that I... I want to be mean, sometimes. It's funny. For me." She glanced down and then looked somewhere over your shoulder. "It took a lot of work to get to what Regina George is now. I don't want to put in all that next year."

"Y'know what they say. New year, new me." You quipped, looking down at her. You were quite sure your pupils had morphed into heart shapes, despite your valiant efforts to have this meaningful conversation without seeming like a love-drunk idiot.

(She kissed you. You kissed her. It was a beautiful morning, you were on a walk and you'd held hands and then you'd kissed under a barren willow tree. It was the first day of Christmas break and you were spending it with Regina George.)

"Does that mean I can be a raging bitch till January 1st?" She asked, eyebrow notching.

You laughed. "Only if you..." You bit your bottom lip, getting nervous. "Only if I get a kiss for every mean thing you say."

"Deal." She offered her hand to you, a cheesy smile on her face.

You pulled your glove off and spit on your hand, then made to take hers.

"Ew! That's disgusting!" She flinched away from you, violently shoving herself back against the tree. "Don't- no! Not near me! Don't touch me with that!"

She bolted and you ran after her, cackling maniacally. You waved your spat-on hand at her as you chased her around the park, her shrieking and you laughing.

"I'm serious, J!" She looked at you over her shoulder as she ran. "Stop chasing me!"

"Stop running away from me!"

"You're just gonna smear your spit on me, you- you fiend!"

"Pinky swear I won't!"

"I won't pinky-swear with your disgusting paws, you-"

With a yelp, Regina tripped over something, probably a root, and fell to the ground. You, having been closing in on her, put the brakes on, windmilled your arms, and tried to stop, but soon followed her into the snow.

"Ouf!" The breath wooshed out of her as you fell on her. She wheezed as you rolled off of her, half-heartedly punching in your direction. You giggled and dodged to the best of your ability, not even minding the snow seeping through your pyjama pants.

Giving some time for her to recover, you laid on your back and looked up at the sky. Clear blue with some thick, greyish clouds looming in the peripheral, morning was turning to day fast. Soon, the park would surely get some more traffic. Kids and their adults, mostly. There was a sizeable play area in the centre. You were pretty much on the outskirts of the park.

It was a familiar spot. You and the guys used to meet your other friends here all the time. Those times it'd been night, too dark to see the faces of the guys with big gym bags, filled to bursting with little plastic baggies and glass bottles.

You turned your head to look at her once her breathing had quieted down.

"You bitch," She hissed at you, the usual venom in her voice gone, replaced by exhaustion. You could only smile, somewhat sheepish but mostly just happy.

"It'd be a lot harder to resist if we were still in school, y'know." You said, turning back to watch the sky. "You can't change the law until we graduate. Until then, we're stuck here. And then, let's say you do change the law and it's passed, it's gonna take some time for people to accept that."

"Yeah," Regina agreed, folding her arms under her chin to lean on.

"And you can say that you'll change a hundred times easily, but actually doing it is different."

"When did you get so wise?"

"When I was all alone for years and did some stupid stuff."

"Like what?" You could tell she wouldn't be expecting what you said next. Even you weren't expecting it.

"You know how I sell drugs and alcohol, right? Where do you think I get the stuff from? I got to know some people while we weren't talking." You sighed. Remembering those times, the worst of them, still so fresh despite it having been years, wasn't nice. "Vandalism, underage drinking, shoplifting, driving without a licence... Did some harder drugs than weed... Stupid shit. I stopped most of it when I got caught the last time and almost went to juvie. Dad got me out, somehow. Probably threw money at people."

You turned your head to look at Regina. She was already paying keen attention to you. "I told my mandated therapist I was gonna change. I said I wasn't going to ever do anything like that ever again. I lied, of course."

"When did you actually stop, then?" She asked.

"Months after the mandated therapy was over." You put your hands in your pockets, getting cold. "I wanted to do it before then. I wanted to just, not be that. A druggie fifteen-year-old spraypainting some dilapidated trailer, hanging around guys that were way too old to be hanging around me. I didn't want to be that but at the same time being anything else was terrifying. I don't think highly of myself, but that was low even for me. Then, Mrs George found me one time."

"Mom?" The question was more out of shock than actual inquiry.

"Yeah." You blinked a couple of times. "I was in a bad state. Withdrawals. I made her promise she wouldn't tell my dad if I allowed her to take me home. She was talking the whole ride from downtown to mine, trying to keep me awake. I just lost it. I don't remember what I said or exactly what I did, but she had to pull over and restrain me." You gulped. "It was awful. Then she offered that I could mow your lawn for some money. I used it the first couple of times to get a new dose. She used to ask what I'd be spending it on and those times I had some bullshit excuse, but the first time I said I was probably gonna get some McDonalds', she cried. Cried real actual tears." You didn't feel like looking at Regina, but you could feel her eyes on the side of your head. "After that it just... It wasn't worth it."

"You never told me." Regina breathed out, still sounding shocked.

"I didn't want to." You turned onto your side, body facing her. "I was- am ashamed."

You didn't feel shame now, though. You undoubtedly would later, tomorrow perhaps, but not now. You were glad for it. You regretted it, wished you hadn't gone down that road, but lying there in the cold snow there was only indifference. That had happened. You had done that.

"Me too." She whispered. "Obviously, it's not the same, but-"

"I know what you mean. And it could be more similar than you think. Quitting an addiction is hard, but I wouldn't say quitting a behaviour is easy."

"It's stupid to compare drug addiction to being a bitch." Regina huffed, a frown on her face. "It's incomparable."

"Well, then let's not compare. Both can be hard in their own way without diminishing the other. What I'm trying to point out is that," You thought for a moment. "We're both trying to get over a bad, toxic habit that feels safe and good and like the only option, without seeing the merit or the other supposedly better option first. It's scary."

"Are you still trying to get over it?"

"I haven't been on drugs since, no. But it's not something that goes away. Not ever."

"And you're still kinda in it." She said, remembering your hustle around the school.

"Yeah. I can't expect you to be all buddy-buddy with everybody suddenly. That'd be hypocritical."

"So what do we do?"

What a question. One that you did not have the answer to. You didn't feel unsettled by the confusion. You hadn't told anyone of your dark past (gosh, could you be any more emo?) since those that knew had just kind of stumbled across it, so telling somebody felt... Good. You'd just sort of blurted it all out without thinking about it too much.

"Can we go back home? I wanna..." You stopped, realizing I wanna make out with you on the couch sounded awfully crude.

A lecherous grin spread Regina's cheeks. "Oh, I see. You just want me for my body."

"No!" You denied, indignant. "I would never."

"You would never want me for my body." She reiterated, purposefully misconstruing what you said. "Wow. Just wow."

"Regina, c'mon, I just mean..."

"Say what you were gonna say." She rolled away and up, towering above you with a twinkling smile pointed down at your prone body.

"Let's just go," You said and tried to get up. Like some bondage dominatrix, she pushed you back down with a shoe on your chest.

You hated how that sort of got to you. Your heart beat faster against her Ugg. Hopefully, she didn't feel it through the thick sole.

"Nuh-uh. Say it."

"I... I wanna make..." You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. "I wanna go home and make out with you on the couch."

"Oh, that wasn't so hard, now was it, baby? Let's go."

It was only once you'd made it back, chucked your wet clothes into the hamper, and spent a considerable amount of time in liplock, that either of you thought to circle back.

"Hey," Regina said, adjusting her weight to not be leaning on you so heavily. Your lips smacked apart and, gosh, now you were the gross ones. "I just now realized,"

"What are you realizing while you're supposed to be kissing me?" You pouted, falling onto your side and away from her. Your hand went over your eyes like you were a swooning maiden. Regina just patted your leg in mock consolation.

"You have your drug thing-" Only she would refer to your past addiction as your drug thing. "but I was, like, the only one doing anything actually wrong. Actively. You know what I mean." You craned your neck to look at her. Your double chin was probably epic.

"I lied to you by omission. I was really mean to you on Thanksgiving."

"Okay, lying by omission was bad and never do that again," She paused, waiting for you to affirm. You nodded solemnly. "But you were only mean after I was mean first. So, both forgiven. Anyway, I'm talking, like... I don't know how to say it."

You blinked. You didn't know what she meant so you couldn't really help. Regina huffed, nails scratching absent-mindedly on your calves.

"You made it sound like we were both wrong for how things exploded." She eventually said. "That was all me."

"I shouldn't have been such a doormat. I let you walk all over me and I never said anything about how I really felt."

"I don't think you can be in the wrong for that."

"I think I can be. At least the way that I was. I could've said something."

"And what would that've achieved? Me cutting you off and nothing changing?"

You clambered up to your elbows. "And now we're here." You smiled, one side a little crooked with how gleeful you were. "Look, we can hash everything out during the break, now just... Let's focus on other things."

Regina, still looking conflicted, caressed a hand up your leg. You shivered. You were in just a hoodie and loose briefs. Regina was more covered up than you, but still in just your old basketball shorts and a big band tee.

"Reggie, I'm getting used to asking for things I shouldn't want. Amuse me." You turned onto your back and hooked your legs around Regina. She fell forward, hands braced on either side of your torso. "Kiss me."

"I just don't want to mess up and have all this go away." She swallowed, a worried crease between her eyebrows.

"I think we're gonna mess up plenty of times. It's a possibility you'll find some justification to make somebody's life hell for a time. I could relapse." You pulled her closer with your legs, arms coming up to cross your fingers behind her neck. "A lot of the time we're not gonna want to admit it, we might not even know it. So, we can lay out a few... Promises, or something."

"Okay," Regina said, gazing down at you like you never imagined. Like you meant things to her. Important things.

"Promise me that you'll listen. Even if you disagree, please hear me out." She nodded seriously. "And, in turn, I promise to speak my mind. When I don't like something, or just like something, I'll say so." Again, she nodded. You loosened your hold on her neck and rubbed your thumbs on her cheeks. Getting to touch her like this, having her literally between your legs, was more than you ever thought you'd get.

Even if this ended in a similar fashion to the Thanksgiving kiss, or even much, much worse, you'd have regretted not taking the chance for the rest of your life.

"And... This is the most important one... Come closer."

Regina shifted closer, bending down, her elbows coming to rest next to your chest as she turned her ear towards you.

You whispered conspiratorially, like this was top-secret: "Still let me do your yard work."

Notes: Fucking christ. I wrote this all in one sitting. 4.3k words. That's like two chapters. I've written long chapters before, longer than this, but I got so used to the 2k on average pace that this felt huge.

Also! Don't be spooked by the [final chapter] marking! This is the last chapter in the story, yes, but we'll be hearing more from Reggie and Jorts still! I have a couple of epilogue sequences I want to write. Would y'all be interested in a poll as to what order those should be published? As in, chronological. Do we start from 10 Years Later... or something more like, idk, next summer? Lmk in the comments :)

This might be counterintuitive to add, and if my lovely amazing readers have exercised their reading comprehension during this series they might get why on a more nuanced level, revenge on Gretchen was left out purposefully. This will not be the last we hear of her, I have some plans for her in some of the epilogues, but yes. That plot point was left open on purpose.

The name. A lot of people like it! I was feeling insecure about my lack of foresight and impulsive naming, but hey, as it turns out it's not that deep! To add, it went really nicely with the end there I think :) No changes will be happening.

This note is getting so long. I just wanna thank everybody that's been along for the ride so far. I read every single comment and check my notifications way too often for new ones. I'm pretty used to writing for quite dead/inactive fandoms on AO3, and I love that site it's my origin, but it's very different to Tumblr. I just feel like people on here are much more open to sharing their thoughts. Everybody who's bore witness to my grief with the taglist, thank you for your patience. And thank you so much for wanting to be on it. I cannot believe people wanted that. For little ole me? Oh, you shouldn't have...

If there are spelling errors or grammatical weirdness, shhh. I'm not reading all that again at 1am. Toodles!

Taglist will be posted separately! Comment on that post if you want to be added to be notified when the epilogies are published!