#but they do wear them! denim skirts are one of the exceptions

[cottageivy]

some gay-va outfits (creds to @gentlepotions for gay-va i cannot stop calling them that in my head now lmao)

[aroaceleovaldez]

i feel like many adhd/autistic people have very strong opinions about pants vs skirts/dresses (and vs shorts vs skirt-shorts) so here is My Oddly Specific PJO Headcanons About Their Legwear Opinions:

Percy - Shorts and short skirts kind of guy. Not a huge fan of fabric touching his legs. Type of guy to wear shorts in the middle of winter. Thinks skirt-shorts are neat. Will tolerate long pants if required but not long skirts (surprise fabric against his legs is Bad).

Annabeth - HATES skirts/dresses. Insert line from SoM about Percy not being able to imagine Annabeth caught dead in a dress here. The flowing fabric is a liability and she must be ready for combat at all hours.

Jason - Refused to wear pants until he was like 12. He was raised by wolves and then raised in New Rome; he did not wear pants as a child. Big fan of skirts/dresses but doesn't wear them as often as he'd like. BIG fan of togas/chitons. Pants are extremely hit-or-miss for him and he's very particular about it. Shorts are even more questionable.

Piper - Shorts or skirt-shorts mostly, though is fine with pants. Absolutely hates skirts/dresses do not even look at her with one she will destroy it with her mind. Loose fabric swooshing against legs bad. 100% DIY'd her own jorts though.

Leo - Least amount of loose fabric possible. too dangerous around machinery. Also he needs one billion pockets at all times or he will lose his mind. Shorts or pants only (though overalls are also very nice).

Frank - The only neutral party because he's (allegedly) neurotypical. He just doesn't have sensory problems so he doesn't care. Generally prefers pants though just cause otherwise his legs stick together like when it's hot out or chafe and that's not fun. Also has trouble finding good shorts. If those problems are solved though he's all for shorts/skirts/dresses/etc.

Hazel - Basic jeans or denim-type stuff or the frilliest skirt/dress you've ever seen with no in-between. If it's denim she will doodle on it though.

Nico - Pants only, maybe shorts, and maybe has like one or two exception skirts that he wears pants under anyways. Will tolerate togas/chitons with shorts. Generally dislikes skirts/dresses though mostly just because he grew up in the 1930s so he probably had to wear baby dresses and wearing skirts and dresses now mostly just makes him feel a little bit like a toddler. Also he doesn't like having his legs exposed. His legs will breathe through the rips in his jeans and that is all they need. Yes he is dying in the heat. Yes he has the stupidest tan lines ever don't look at him.

Reyna - Enemy of pants. She'll tolerate them but she won't be happy about it. Long skirts and maybe shorts only. If you can't fight in a long skirt/dress that's a skill issue.

Will - Shorts ONLY. Maybe a short skirt or short dress if he's having a good gender day but would not be caught dead in pants. He and Percy are standing in solidarity in their shorts in 10 degree (fahrenheit) weather shivering their legs off.

[erwinsvow]

you have this awful way of teasing him. logan doesn't like to be teased—at least not the way you do it.

all polite, sweet smiles when the room is filled with your peers and his students. they're not really his, but the feeling has stuck as of late.

logan shouldn't let you keep going. you're getting the wrong idea—thinking that this, whatever this is, can be something. something more than heated stares and heavy breaths. he's no saint—the thought has run through his head at least a hundred times a day.

how easy it would be to get you alone. to find an empty hallway and push you against the wall, keep one ear listening for footsteps and the other focused on how fast your heart is beating. it picks up everytime he's in the vicinity.

shit. when had he started zeroing in on you like this? it's not just your heart, it's your breathing too. hitched. if your breath is like that and your heart is racing, then what could be going on between your legs? he doesn't have to be a mind-reader to figure it out, but you're lucky anyways, that he's not. he might not be able to hold himself back.

not like you want him to. it's too obvious—if others haven't picked up on it yet, they're going to soon. your friends probably giggle with you late at night, help you perfect your plan to get the big, bad wolverine into the palm of your hand.

or maybe not—maybe you're quiet about it. maybe it's a running joke but nothing more, nothing shared with anyone except you and him. private, just between the two of you. looks that no one else understands, an ache that no one else feels. it doesn't make it less wrong, but it almost feels that way. like pining is supposed to help.

teasing certainly isn't the answer, not that you care. you're all pretty smiles, cocking your head and laughing sweetly, replying to something he said without caring about what he said. you ignore that part, electing to keep the conversation going even though he can't make it more obvious that what he really needs is for you to go.

you get closer, even when others prying eyes are still present. a hand on his arm, brushing up against him and then apologizing without any real sincerity behind it, even the way you rest your body against his doorframe, staring at him with teasing eyes. it's all you fucking do—tease, tease, tease.

logan would like to think some things about you haven't changed on his behalf. he pretends that maybe you always wore short skirts and tight tops, or that maybe you'd put them away for the winter and that's why they keep making appearances. but it's still cold out and somehow, the shortest and the tightest things are decked out just when he's around.

it's menacing. a girl as sweet as you shouldn't be capable of such devious things. the sliver of exposed skin between your white tank-top and your denim skirt, a place where his hand would fit perfectly. one touch and your entire body would get warm, he knows it—you wouldn't feel cold no matter what you're wearing or what month it is.

the way the hem of your sundress rides up when you take a seat next to him, legs crossing over and an endless expanse of smooth skin visible. all the way up to your upper thigh, any higher and he'd get a glimpse of panties—and what color would those be? matching? he can only think about it for a second until he snaps out of it. and when his gaze moves from your legs to your face, there's that smile again. devious. devilish.

you've been put on earth to torment him. he keeps trying to do the right thing—avoid you at every turn, lock doors if it means keeping you out. conversations are short and civil, no matter how much you both would prefer to keep them going.

it's just wrong. you're so young—you don't know any better. or maybe you do, and you choose to ignore it, but he can't do this too, on top of everything else. he has to get something right, and it's just your misfortune that this is the thing he's chosen to stay steadfast about.

because otherwise he wouldn't stand a chance. with every passing stare at your glossy lips and soft, pretty skin—skin that just so happens to be waiting for him to mark up—and clothes that are waiting to be torn off, bits and pieces of his resolve start withering.

you know what you're doing to him, and you don't stop. you don't plan on stopping until you've gotten what you want. yes, it's wrong, but there's not much in the world that's right anymore. you think you at least deserve this. and logan's a good sport—behind every closed door and curt word, his eyes reveal what his mouth won't. a simple truth known to both of you—that he wants you as badly as you want him.

it's a long game, one you're willing to play. you move the pieces same as usual—a shorter, tighter skirt here, a too-big tank top that leaves your straps somewhere on your arm there. conversations get a little longer, his stares get a little more heated, a little more aggressive. you can even hear him taking out his frustration on the punching bags instead of just giving in and taking them out on the object of his frustration.

but you're close—and if there's one thing that you are, besides a tease, is patient.

at half-past ten, all the kids are asleep. there's some older students scattered around the house, some upstairs and others watching tv, but you know your destination tonight, and where the occupant of a particular room is. the baggy button-up you'd put on over your dress, just to make it a little more appropriate for the day, was abandoned on the back of a kitchen chair. you made one stop to the fridge before heading up here—to logan's room.

patient you were, but a saint, you were not. there was only so much a girl could take. you knock twice, and without even realizing it, your heart rate picks up. it always does when logan's nearby, and then you curse under your breath. he might not open the door if he realizes it's you—but then again, who else would come knocking this late?

you hear it—a deep breath, footsteps getting closer. your back straightens automatically, biting your cheek in anticipation. when he opens the door, you beam up at him, knowing exactly what he's about to say.

"kid, you needa go t'bed-"

"i brought you something," you say, with another bright, sweet smile. you offer it to him with outstretched hands—two beers, still cold from the depths of the fridge you had buried them in, lest one of the kids saw them, or one of the jerks drank them.

"how'd ya even get these, huh?"

to anyone else, logan would look the same as he always did—gruff, angry, unforgiving. but you're not just anyone else. you noticed it—picked up on it immediately. the way the tension in his shoulder lessened, just barely. how his grimace softened. how the expression in his eyes betrays him—he sounds upset but he's really not. there's humor in them, sparkling back at you, because he thinks it's funny.

that you show up with beer this late. that you wear a dress you really, really shouldn't wear—the one he thinks of as his favorite, before trying to expel the damn thought entirely.

you roll your pretty eyes, pushing through the man blocking you. of course if he actually wanted to keep you out, he'd barely have to try. one push and you'd be on the other side of the wood, but like always, you know him.

"you do realize i'm not actually a kid, right? i can buy beer," you reply—and even your words, coated in humor and sarcasm, still come out sweet as sugar.

you couldn't be mean if you tried. logan can't be nice if he tried.

"yeah, yeah. c'mon kid, y'can't be in here this late-"

"late?" you repeat back at him, taking a seat on his bed. logan closes the door, wandering back over to where you're perched. you really shouldn't have sat down—not with how much he's pictured you under these very sheets. "don't be such a grandpa, logan. it's not even eleven yet."

"cuttin' a little close to your bedtime, huh?"

"ha-ha," you say dryly, holding one of the bottles towards him. "i didn't bring a bottle opener."

he takes it out of your hand, fingers brushing over each other for a second. it's nothing, twisting the cap off with his hand, tossing it somewhere to the side. you keep staring up, watching through fluttery lashes as he takes a long sip, enjoying the view a little too much. the cherry on top is the exhale logan takes after he finishes, fisting the beer bottle a little too tight.

"do you like it?" you ask quietly, heart thudding fast again. you suddenly hope he can hear it now, even clearer than before.

"yeah, kid." he takes a breath, and your eyes close for a second. "it's wrong." another breath, one from you this time. "shouldn't have beer in the house."

"yeah," you agree, eyes opening and taking him in again. you had planned everything perfectly, picked the best time to come. his flannel was flung on the bed next to you, nothing but the white wife-beater covering his chest. "nothing wrong with just once though, right?"

"kid-"

you stand up, much too close for comfort. your little pink dress looks even prettier like this, so close that he can almost feel the material. one strap has fallen—like they always do—but this time, your wish finally comes true. logan takes the strap between his thick fingers, sliding it up your arm and around to your shoulder, bringing it all the way up. even after it's secured, he doesn't let go.

his touch—barely present as it was, is enough to light your skin on fire. it's just as you thought it would be, and now all you want is more. your eyes shut again.

"i probably shouldn't tell you this," you start, and you hear logan groan—a soft noise, something that has imprinted into your brain forever. "but i really love it when you call me that."

"y'killing me, kid-" he says, all in one breath.

"what's it gonna take, hm? do you want the other beer? i brought both for you, i don't even like the stuff-"

he shuts you up by closing the space in between the two of you. logan's mouth is hot, hot just like the rest of him, blazing to the touch. huge hands wrap around your waist, bringing you in even closer, if it's even possible to be any closer. it's everything you dreamed it could be—the sheer intensity of how he kisses you, the way his tongue feels in your mouth, how hard he grips you. your hands find his shoulders, gripping on as hard as you can, nails digging in while you moan into his mouth. you should be quiet, anyone could hear, and yet, you keep going. and it's all of it at once, the taste of the beer and those cigars he loves so much. if they taste anything like this you might find yourself addicted to those too.

when he finally pulls away—and of course it's him that pulls away, you would stay attached forever if you could, and you plan to make it a reality—there's lines of spit between your mouthes, still connecting you. he wipes the corner of your lips with his thumb, and breathless you stare up at him.

your hand traces down his arm, all the way to his wrist and then his hand, resting just above his knuckles, running your soft fingers over them.

"logan," you breathe out, your heart as fast as he's ever heard it. "can i go lock the door?"

"yeah kid," he says, the gruffness in his voice something entirely new, laced with a desire and wanting you had only hoped to hear tonight. "go lock the door."

[cxrdycxps]

Pretty Hurts • Ellie Williams

☢️ female reader • lesbian reader (it’s well defined) • canon typical violence • sexual assault • mean!ellie can’t deal with feelings • victim shaming • strap on sex • Ellie’s also mean in bed • recreational drug use ☢️

Main Masterlist • Ellie Williams Masterlist

“Jesse! Hey, Jesse.” You chased your friend up the street, almost running into him when he stopped suddenly. He looked you up and down, eyes narrowed. It had been unseasonably warm today but he was sure you were pushing it.

“What’s got you all dressed up, Princess?” Jesse asked and you looked down at your outfit like you needed a reminder of what you were wearing. “Or dressed down, I guess?”

“You think it’s hot?” You asked him and he blanched, looking over his shoulder as if Dina would appear out of nowhere to hear the conversation. “Not for you obviously.”

Jesse would admit there was a certain allure to it. He would admit that on his death bed where a very jealous Dina wouldn’t be able to strangle him for it.

You had your usual cowboy boots on that you wore year round. You had been heartbroken when you busted your last pair beyond repair while on patrol one day. Ellie had saved the day almost three weeks later when she returned with a new pair for you.

Usually you could be found clad in a tight pair of jeans, weirdly proud of your looks for someone who had been born after the world ended. It had earned you the nickname of Princess by most of your peers. Today, instead of the typical jeans, was a short denim skirt. You had clearly sacrificed a pair of jeans for them but Jesse could appreciate the sacrifice. Completely unbiased, just as a man.

He was starting to get paranoid Dina would hear his thoughts. At this point he was going to deserve to be strangled. The top you were wearing was also of your own doing. It had been a white blouse once, Jesse guessed. Except now it was sleeveless and cropped, tying at the front in a little knot. You hadn’t bothered to button it all the way.

“Well that answers that.” You grinned happily and Jesse blinked at you. “You were staring, it means I look hot.”

You gave him a little twirl and he was treated to a glimpse of what he was certain was definitely your underwear. He closed his eyes and asked the lord for strength, if he even existed.

“Tonight’s the night.” You told him enthusiastically. Jesse still hadn’t gathered enough brain cells to answer you but it was like you didn’t need him to. Like you could read his mind in the way he feared Dina could. “Ellie’s finally coming to a dance.”

“Think you’ve picked it up wrong, Princess. Ellie doesn’t dance. Ellie actively avoids dances by hanging out in Joel’s garage and smoking so much she reeks of weed for three days after.” That was oddly specific. Jesse knew far too much about his friends at this point. Ellie’s smoking habits, the color of your underwear. When would it end?

“I know but it’s part of her fixing her relationship with Joel. He likes these things apparently, even though he just sits down the back and glares at people.” You told Jesse excitedly. For some reason Joel liked you.

He told you about how he was trying to fix things between him and Ellie. He talked to you during meals, he patrolled with you and he even had been caught leaving your house.

In the beginning it had been weird. Everyone felt weird about it including Ellie who had callously called you out for fucking Joel a few months after she had arrived to Jackson.

You hadn’t had the best reaction about it. Calling Ellie a slew of names, promptly bursting into tears and running out of the Tipsy Bison. And while Joel would probably murder people for looking at Ellie wrong, he had shaken his head at Ellie, following you out of the bar.

Turns out you had known Joel. He had helped you years ago when he had come across a gang of rival raiders, ones that didn’t have the same barely there morals he had.

No women or no children. He had sworn he wouldn’t do that and he had stuck to it. So when he came across you, barely ten and already far more exposed to the cruelties of the world something in him had snapped.

He had gotten you and your mother away. And the pair of you had made your way to Jackson, only for him to find you years later. Your mother having passed away since he had last saw you.

It just so happened one of the nights he had been walking home late from the Tipsy Bison he had encountered you trying to tell one of the stable boys you weren’t interested.

He hadn’t listened and Joel had intervened, reminding you of that fateful night so many years ago. The puzzle pieces had clicked and you had formed a sort of dependency on the man who had saved your life.

At this point Joel was collecting daughters like they were Pokémon and he was too tired to keep fighting it so he just let you come around when you had some small issue you needed advice on.

You had explained some of this to Ellie the next night, apologizing for calling her names in an act of graciousness nobody was sure Ellie deserved. It wasn’t long until most of your inner circle had put it together that you had a crush on her.

Everyone but Ellie, that was. So you had hatched these elaborate schemes to get her attention and everyone watched when you crashed and burned only to bounce back again and again.

You were kind of unshakeable. It was almost inspiring.

So when you walked into the Tipsy Bison that night with your hair curled and what passed for make up on these days everyone was ready to watch you fail again.

A few of the women had been reclaiming old beauty practices after a particularly good patrol had found an old salon with hair styling tools. And some out of date makeup but it was powders so did it even count as an expiration date?

“She always does so much and for what?” Ellie asked and Joel looked up from his drink to find you scanning the crowd. “Oh god she’s going to coming over here.”

“Cut her some slack, I thought you were friends now.” Joel sighed and Ellie looked back at Joel before looking back at you.

“We’ve nothing in common except Jesse and Dina.” Ellie explained to Joel. Joel knew he was on thin enough ice with Ellie so he didn’t mention that according to you, there was so many shared interests that it just made sense.

Instead of approaching like Ellie had predicted you would after spotting her, you made your way to the bar instead and Joel watched Ellie’s eyes lock on the length of your skirt. Or rather the lack of length to it.

Joel wondered if he was in good enough graces with Ellie again yet to make a joke about it but he caught himself at the last second in case he ruined your best laid plans.

He looked back to you at the bar and found it wasn’t just Ellie’s attention you had managed to capture. Stable boy apparently hadn’t learned his lesson and had returned for more.

Joel straightened up in his seat and wondered if Tommy would kill him for hurting this kid. It would probably be worth it to teach him a lesson.

Joel didn’t need to move because he watched Ellie approach you and slot in on your other side, taking all of your attention. Ellie gestured for three drinks off Seth before turning to look at you.

“New skirt?” Ellie asked and you lit up like the fact that she noticed was the greatest thing ever. Like you couldn’t even hear the stable boy say anything from behind you as he attempted to get your attention back.

“Do you like it?” You asked Ellie, giving her a little twirl so she could appreciate the whole view. Ellie let her eyes trace you up and down as you finished with a little bounce and who was Ellie to not appreciate the way your tits moved.

“I mean, it’s a skirt.” She shrugged and you visibly deflated as Seth approached with the drinks.

“I think it’s a great skirt.” Stable boy told you and you barely looked over your shoulder at him to roll your eyes.

“Literally no one in Jackson cares what you think Darwin.” You snapped and Ellie laughed lightly, nudging the third glass in your direction.

“Come on then.” She instructed and nodded to where Joel was sitting, watching the whole interaction with what was almost a smile on his face.

“With you?” You asked, cradling the drink in your hand and looking between her and the table.

“Unless you want to stay here with Darwin?” Ellie shrugged and started walking away. It was almost embarrassing how quickly you followed her over to the table. Instead of taking the seat she had been in, beside Joel, she took the one across the table from him, kicking the chair beside her out in a casual way that made your heart beat double time.

“Hey Joel, how you doin’?” You asked, smiling at him before taking a sip of your drink. He took his own drink from the table and sipped at it slowly, looking over your shoulder.

“Am I gonna have to talk to Stable Boy?” Joel asked rather than answer your question and you followed his gaze to where Darwin had his elbows leaned back on the bar, watching you.

“She’s plenty capable, ain’t you Princess?” Ellie asked, her arm sliding along the back of your chair. “Put him in his place just now.”

You had been barely paying attention to Darwin at the bar, definitely not enough to remember what you had said. Recalling as much was even hard with Ellie’s fingers tracing the place when you had cut the sleeves off your blouse. Her finger traced your skin lightly and you could feel the goosebumps following in her wake.

“Is that so?” Joel asked with what was almost a smile. “What’d you tell him?”

“I uh, I don’t know.” You muttered, looking back again to find Darwin wasn’t looking anymore, talking to some of his friends. “I wasn’t mean, was I?”

“Told him no one cared about his opinion in all of Jackson.” Ellie sounded proud of you and you leaned further back into her arm with a satisfied grin.

“He should know better than goin’ talkin’ to you anyway.” Joel muttered, swirling his glass as the music started up. “I obviously didn’t scare him enough.”

Ellie looked between you both and back to Darwin. You figured she didn’t know anything about the night Joel interrupted you both in the middle of an argument.

“Darwin’s really not so bad.” You sighed, looking back at him again. He was talking avidly, telling a story with his hands and his friends were laughing. “He just don’t know what to do with a pretty girl.”

“Pretty girl?” Ellie laughed meanly and you looked up at her and swallowed the lump suddenly growing in your throat. “You sure of that?”

You leaned forward, away from her arm and stared at the table before looking up at Joel who was pinching the bridge of his nose. “I uh, I’m gonna..” you trailed off, shaking your head before standing up.

You passed Jesse and Dina who were coming in. They watched you and looked across to where Ellie was watching you leave, her arm still slung around your chair.

You tried to ignore the cold, crossing your arms across your chest and heading for home. You wiped at your eyes feeling pathetic that you were actually gonna cry.

“Hey Princess!” You sighed, looking over your shoulder and found Darwin standing a couple of feet away. “You usually never leave a dance until the music stops playing.”

“I don’t feel much like dancin’.” You shrugged, shivering again. He sighed, stepping a little closer and extending his jacket he had in his hand. “It’s fine.”

“Take it, nothing worse than seeing a pretty girl cry. She don’t need to be cold too.” You laughed at his logic, taking his jacket from his outstretched hand. “What’s got you so upset? Thought all your dreams were coming true with how close you two were.”

“She insinuated I wasn’t pretty.” You told him, feeling pathetic. You wiped your tears away again and Darwin rolled his eyes, stepping close enough to pull you into a hug. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“It ain’t stupid. You know you’re the prettiest girl in town. That’s why everyone calls you Princess.” He assured you, a soothing hand rubbing your back. “We all got our talents and ain’t no one as pretty as you.”

“I got other talents.” You muttered petulantly and he laughed.

“I know you do. You’re a dab hand at tracking, make the rest of us look stupid. When fall comes you make a great apple pie. And you ain’t never failed to put a smile on someone’s face no matter how bad their day is.” Darwin told you with a squeeze. You looked up at him and pouted.

“Why can’t I like you?” You asked him and he laughed, tossing his head back. “Ellie would never say all that to me. She’s just mean.”

“I wish you could like me too. But it ain’t that simple telling your heart what to do.” He released you with one arm, wrapping the other around your shoulder to guide you home.

“Ain’t that for sure.” You sighed before looking back to where the music was pouring from the Tipsy Bison. “You wanna dance?”

“You tryna get my hopes up?” He asked with a laugh and you shook your head at him, squaring your shoulders. “Thought you weren’t up for dancin’?”

“I ain’t but she doesn’t get to know she hurt me like that. So we should go back and dance. I still ain’t gonna crawl into your bed tonight but we can be friends, can’t we?” You asked and Darwin could only roll his eyes, turning back towards the bar.

“Maybe a couple of the other girls’ll see you in my arm and start paying me some attention.” You looked almost offended and he shrugged. “Ain’t you using me to make her jealous?”

You were and he was right about it. It shouldn’t hurt that he was getting something out of it too so you only nodded at him, taking his hand and leading into the bar.

He paused you in the doorway and lifted his hands up to cup your cheeks, his thumbs running under your eyes. “Don’t let her know she made you cry.”

You smiled up at him as the door pushed open. Jesse looked between you and Darwin and paused in place, jaw dropped.

“I was just coming to check on you.” Jesse muttered and you shrugged as Darwin dropped his hands from your face.

“We were just getting some air.” You told Jesse, pulling Darwin back into the bar by his hand. “Nothing to see here.”

///

The sounds of the forest were better to quiet your mind than any of the weed Eugene managed to bring into Jackson. You stood with your head tilted back towards the sun, letting the breeze cool you.

You could hear the noise of the others as they travelled through the small settlement behind you, killing off the runners you’d been tracking.

You didn’t much get involved in that. It turned your stomach at best and made you violently ill at worse.

You had a gun on your hip that you only ever shot at unmoving targets, keeping your skills sharp but without causing harm. You had seen enough blood to last you a lifetime.

“Bout ready to get saddled up again, Princess.” Joel told you from a little to your left. You turned your head to look at him, lifting a hand to block the sun rays. “You finished sunbathing?”

“Almost, a bloater travelled through here. Couple days ago at most.” You told Joel and he looked around, watching for what you saw. You didn’t share any of the details with him. You didn’t need to be out of a job.

“Got enough time?” Joel asked and you shook your head. He nodded slowly, watching the forest with you. “We’ll come out this way again tomorrow. Plan an overnight patrol.”

“Sounds good to me.” You agreed lightly, listening to the sounds of everyone else saddling back up from a little behind the tree line.

“So, stable boy, huh?” Joel asked and you rolled your eyes. You looked up at Joel, still shielding your eyes before turning and heading back to your horse. “I’m just asking.”

“Well don’t. Darwin and I are friends. He’s nicer than other people I chose to associate with recently.” You told him, pulling yourself up onto your horse without bothering to look back at him. “Maybe it’s time I find good friends.”

“You got good friends and none of them tried to force themselves on you in a dark alley.” Joel reasoned as he pulled himself up onto his horse.

“He wasn’t gonna force himself on me.” You sighed. “He was a little drunk and thought I just needed convincin’. He never set a hand on me. I’m not that ten year old anymore.”

“I know that. You’re a woman now and you make your own decisions. I just wanna make sure you’re making good ones.” You stared at Joel, eyebrows furrowed.

“Joel, I uh, I ain’t tryin’ to be rude. But you aren’t my father.” You told him, bewildered at the sharing he was doing when usually a grunt was all the acknowledging you’d get. “You got Ellie for that.”

“You ain’t ever turned my advice down before.” He shrugged and you shook your head.

“Thanks to your advice I was cryin’ outside the bar last week. You told me to have patience but Joel, I ain’t ever gonna let someone talk to me like that.” You sighed. He didn’t reply and you didn’t much care, urging your horse on ahead.

You spent some time discussing an early patrol tomorrow with Tommy. He’d need to put together a small team for overnight so that you could track that bloater and get rid of it.

You resolutely ignored Joel who’s eyes you could feel burning into your back and kept a similar distance from Jesse who was just confused for all intents and purposes.

You didn’t bother taking time to explain to any of your friends why you were quietly drawing away from them. You didn’t know how to explain what finally tipped you over the edge was a dig that maybe you weren’t as pretty as you thought you were.

You were embarrassed to admit it had knocked your confidence a little. You had always held your looks close to your heart. You were a little vain, you knew as much. Your mama had been the most beautiful woman you had known. She had told you about being a pageant queen and how she had loved looking pretty.

Jesse wouldn’t understand it. He wasn’t a girl, he didn’t understand that drive to be worried about how you looked. Dina would laugh at you, of that you were sure. She had always laughed at your need to wear clothes that almost bordered on impractical.

You hadn’t minded before. But now you wondered if maybe you were an outsider. You had been friends with Jesse and Dina way before Ellie had come along but Ellie had slotted in seamlessly to the group. It was a kind of heartbreaking thought that once again you were isolated from everyone else.

On your return to Jackson, Darwin was at the stable, welcoming in the patrol men and taking their horses. You hung around for a while, helping Darwin with brushing the horses and settling them in for the night.

"We'll be heading out again tomorrow." You told him, fighting around a yawn. He looked up from where he was brushing Joel's horse and smiled at you. "Ain't you up for a patrol soon?"

The patrol schedule, like most jobs in Jackson, was rotational. For everyday patrols there was a set schedule and groups who would do them all the time. But the long patrols, the overnight, were a town-wide rotation in which every able-bodied adult took part.

Your momma had said something about jury duty the first time it had come up. You never had a chance to ask her what that had meant.

"Yeah sure, think I'll be in for this one." Darwin nodded, finishing up with the horse and dusting his hands off. He gave you a grin and you rolled your eyes at him, already expecting the stupid joke that followed that particular grin. "You wanna share a sleeping bag?"

"I think I'd rather share it with the bloater we're looking for." You scoffed, tossing his bag at him as you left the stable with him. You cast a look in through the other stables as you both left and found Ellie brushing Shimmer.

She looked over her shoulder at the sound of Darwin chattering and you paused when she called our name. When you paused in place Darwin stopped by your side. Ellie stared between you both, eyes narrowing.

"I'll see you at dinner." You told Darwin with a sigh, resting your arms on the half door of the stable. Ellie watched him walk away before turning to you with a raised eyebrow.

"You heading out tomorrow?" Ellie asked and you nodded, resting your chin on your forearms. She fidgeted with the brush in her hands, barely looking up at you. "Joel says it's a bloater. You ever seen one before?"

"Is this an exam, do I need to get so many questions right before you let me leave?" You asked her and she rolled her eyes, throwing the brush into her bag.

"I was just asking, no need to get your panties in a twist." Ellie scoffed and you huffed, standing up straight. "I can't make conversation with you now? Got your little boyfriend and suddenly you're too good for your friends."

"Like you're a friend? The way that you treat me?" You asked with a scoff and Ellie recoiled as if you had shocked her with something she didn't already know. "You cut me down at every single chance you get and call yourself my friend."

"It was a joke, I can't make a joke?" She asked, almost shouting and you shook your head, running a hand through your hair. "You never had a problem with me making a joke before."

"You never called me ugly before." You muttered and she blinked at you. You stared at her for several seconds as she remained unmoving and sighed. "I never realized you were laughing at me, not with me. It hurt a little."

You left her standing in the stable and wondered how she dared to pretend she hadn't noticed that everything she had said to you wasn't a dig in one way or another.

You had clearly been delusional in thinking that there would ever have been a chance that she was interested in you.

///

The thing about early morning patrols was that most people in the usual patrol group kept it quiet until everyone had fully woken up. By everyone, you meant mostly Eugene and yourself.

Unfortunately, Darwin had chosen this morning to be especially chatty and Ellie was telling Joel a bunch of puns from a tattered book. You leaned forward, your forehead against your horse's mane, and tried to tune it all out before you raised your head again.

"Up late, Princess?" Darwin asked and you groaned, lifting a hand to block out the rising sun from your eyes.

“Dreaming of you, Sweetheart.” You told him before digging your heels in and urging your horse up ahead to Eugene who seemed to be distancing himself from the chatter boxes.

“Damn shame we can’t just tape their mouth shut.” Eugene grunted and you laughed at him, rolling your eyes. “That boy of yours could draw a pack of the biters with a whisper.”

“He ain’t mine.” You laughed and Eugene shook his head, pulling down his sunglasses to look at you. “He’s not my type.”

“The other loud mouth is though.” He pointed out and you sighed heavily, reaching out and attempting to swipe his sunglasses.

“Cmon old man, I know you stole my last pair. I just know it.” You accused and he shook his head with a smirk as he batted your hands away.

“You can’t prove it, Princess. You’ll have to keep a look out for your own.” He told you and you sighed. You were approaching the location you had spotted bloater tracks so you sat up straight and reached back to tie your hair up in a ponytail.

Darwin joined your sides the same filthy grin on his face that you knew a comment was coming. “You know what that does to me, baby.”

“You make me want to vomit.” You replied with a sigh, pulling on your horses reigns and hopping down. Eugene followed you while the others waited back.

“Think it might have fallen off a cliff and died and we can just all go home?” Eugene asked and you rolled your eyes. You followed the signs that lead you to your discovery the other day.

Several of the plants had been squashed in the surrounding area. On several of the trees there was residue from the bloater knocking into them. The terrible echolocation skills allowed you to follow their path pretty easily.

“Dumb motherfucker got me wasting a whole day and night on this shit.” Eugene sighed, watching you follow the path of destruction. He went back for your horses and to gather everyone else.

You took your time, watching the signs and clues. At one point the bloater had just wandered in a circle, trampling a ring of destruction. You figured it was probably chasing an animal or something.

When the others caught up you accepted the reigns of your horse off Eugene and hopped up on her back. The group was much quieter as you followed the trail.

You had been right about one thing. The bloater had been a few days ahead of you. By the time the sun was beginning to set you were still over a day behind it. With the slow speed it travelled you would be well able to catch up the following morning and be home before sundown.

With that news the group made way to the nearest outpost in a small farm house. The horses were set up in the barn, Darwin offering to do his duty by settling them all in.

The rest of you trailed into the farmhouse.

Joel lit a fire while everyone set up their space for the night. You and Eugene played rock paper scissors for the sofa and he laughed when you lost, setting your sleeping bag up on the floor.

He then lost to Joel who disputed his claim only for him to offer the sofa to Ellie which made you and Eugene roll your eyes.

You hung a pot over the fire, unpacking a few tins of food. While you waited you dug your fists into the bottom of your back, trying to ease the pain taking residence there.

“I got somethin’ for that!” Eugene called and you only laughed at him. You had no doubt he had an arsenal of ‘stuff’. “You young people shouldn’t be hurting’ like you’re eighty.”

“Youth is wasted on the young.” Joel clapped Eugene on the shoulder in passing.

///

Mostly everyone was sleeping. Eugene was starfished by the fire, his massive form almost blocking the light from it. Ellie was curled up on the sofa, her hand resting down the side, almost touching Joel who was sleeping next to her, still as a corpse. Darwin was closest to where you had set up, almost completely covered by his sleeping bag, only the top of his head peeking out.

You were sat up, turning your gun over in your hand. It was your turn to keep watch and you had sat yourself up on a counter in the kitchen to do so. The floor was open plan so you could still see everyone while keeping an eye on things outside.

The heat of the evening was getting to you and so you took a second to pad outside, wincing at the creak of the screen door. There was a bench on the porch and you lowered yourself into it.

The night was silent, the only sound from the slight rustle of the leaves in the gentle breeze. There was just over half a moon, a natural source of light allowing you to see the trees of the forest.

In times like this it was easy to forget why you were out here. You had never known a life before the outbreak but your momma had told you stories about how she had lived.

You wanted to experience a peagant and see her in all her glory. You wanted a prom and Friday night football games. You wanted to know what it had all been about.

Most of all you wanted your momma. She’d probably be able to comfort you in getting over Ellie. She always was able to calm you down even when the two of you were living through hell.

That was if she was okay with you liking girls. You had never had a chance to tell her about how you felt. She had died well before you had accepted it.

Cancer.

The world ended and zombies took over but cancer was what killed her in the end. Without chemo there was nothing the doctors in Jackson could do.

The people of Jackson had been good to you. You had lived in a boarding house until you were eighteen and then gave you back your momma’s house.

The screen door creaked and you looked up when Darwin stepped out. He didn’t speak and so neither did you, letting him take his place beside you.

“Hard to sleep when we ain’t at home.” He told you after a little while and you nodded in agreement, still watching the forest. “You okay?”

“Just thinkin’ about Momma.” You told him honestly. “I been missin’ her.”

“She’d be real proud of you.” He told you with a cut off laugh. “I remember her. She was real pretty and real nice. Used to help my mom set her hair in rollers on special occasions.”

“She didn’t want beauty to die.” You told him and he nodded. Everyone knew that about her. Some people had thought her vain. But in her eyes it was her culture, her history. Her momma had been the same and even her momma before that.

“As long as you’re alive beauty is sure to be.” Darwin smiled at you and you smiled back, tipping your head to lay on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around you and together you watched the forest.

It was tipping into Darwin’s watch time before he spoke again, calling your name softly to see if you were awake. You hummed sleepily and he chuckled.

“We could’ve been so easy, you know?” He asked, sighing wistfully. You sat up as if you had been scolded and he reached for your hand in apology. “I know, you don’t like men. But if you did it would be easy.”

“Yeah. I’ve always known, you know?” You asked him, laughing humorlessly. “I didn’t get crushes on boys so I just ignored it. And then I met Ellie.”

“Did you ever even try?” Darwin asked, pulling back to look at you. “Did you just write all men off?”

“I didn’t need to try. I knew.” You didn’t like the accusation in his tone and so you leaned back away from him. He released your hand to run a hand through his hair. “I’ve always known.”

“You can’t know something like that.” You opened your mouth to argue with him and he pressed forward, his hand tangling in your hair and holding you in place. He forced himself on you, kissing you so hard your teeth bruised your lips and you gasped.

His tongue invaded your mouth while his hands pawed at your chest. You struggled to push away from him but he was stronger than you. The only sound was the click of your safety, the gun against his stomach.

He froze, not releasing you entirely but pulling his lips back from yours. “What are you doing?”

“Get your hands off me. Right now.” You warned, your voice shaky. He raised both hands, pulling away slowly from you. “If you ever touch me again I-”

“You won’t use that gun, sweetheart.” Even with his hands raised he was cocky about it and you knew he was right. You didn’t shoot infected never mind living people.

“I won’t have to. Joel is plenty fond of using his.” You warned standing up and walking back towards the screen door. He didn’t follow you inside and you paused inside the door.

Eugene and Joel were unmoved. Ellie had rolled over to face the back of the sofa but she was still. You took a moment to gather yourself, wiping the tears off your face.

Your hands were shaking as you returned to your bed roll, pulling it closer to Joel. You pulled the blanket up over your head and tried not to shake with your sobs, freezing when the creak of the screen door signaled Darwin’s return inside.

///

“You okay there, Princess?” Eugene asked quietly. The other three had pulled ahead, the early morning chatter driving you and him a few meters back. When you didn’t answer Eugene tried again. “Princess, you with me?”

“Huh?” You blinked at him, shaking your head and then looking back to him. “I was in my own world. Sorry.”

“Hope it’s damn better than this one.” He sighed and you huffed a laugh before sighing yourself. Ellie and Joel were chatting up the front. Darwin interjected every once in a while but Ellie seemed to be trying to exclude him.

Your eyes were dry from crying and the headache you had wasn’t aided by the sun that was beating down on top of you. Your stomach turned every time Darwin looked back at you.

You wanted to scream at him to stop looking at you. You wanted to tell Joel and Eugene what he had done to you so that they could leave his body in the woods. You wanted to dig your heels in to your horse and gallop into the woods where no one would ever touch you again.

Instead you clutched the reins so your hand wouldn’t shake and you nudged your horse into speeding up to take the lead before Joel could call you.

You were closer to the bloater, somewhere within an hour of its stumbling steps. It was traveling in a wide arc and with time it would return to Jackson’s area. It made the trip worth it. For everyone but you it seemed.

It took less than fifteen minutes for you to land on the bloaters tail. There was scraps of what counted as flesh on the trees, trampled plants and a lack of nature sounds in the area.

When the horses grew too loud you left them back, tying their reins to the trees. Eugene took the lead with Joel following up on the end of the group. The bloater was easy tracked from here.

Eugene had his shotgun loaded and Joel had his rifle. Ellie was using her pistol but she had a Molotov cocktail to get things started. You held your pistol in your grip and hoped you wouldn’t need it. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Darwin and ensure he had a loaded gun.

The bloater was trying to navigate the forest and found difficulty in getting past the dense trees. Every couple of feet it stumbled and almost knocked itself over.

It was pathetic to watch but you knew once the first shot was taken it would no longer be this stumbling mess but an evolved killing machine.

Joel lifted a hand and pointed at Ellie to stay. Eugene and him circled around until the bloater was unknowingly surrounded. Darwin took post beside Ellie and you stood back, pistol raised and hands shaking.

With a nod Ellie threw the Molotov which burst at the bloaters feet. The infected screeched and roared when Ellie followed with two shots from her pistol.

Eugene raised his shotgun as you looked around. A shot went off followed by Joel’s rifle and the bloater hit the ground. You were still looking around, following imprints in the ground. There was a second pair of bare feet, much smaller than the bloater. You had missed them.

You turned to warn everyone, all of them gathered by the bloater. Just behind Ellie a stalker approached. You didn’t have time to warn them when two shots sounded. The stalkers body dropped and so did you.

Your knees buckled from under you landing you in the dead leaves and branches on the ground. You had dropped your gun, hands over your ears trying to block out the sound.

Joel was checking over Ellie who had barely moved despite how close your bullets had come to her head. She was staring at the stalker, two bullets lodged in its head.

Darwin got to you first and reached for you but you scrambled away. “Don’t touch me. Don’t fucking touch me.”

You reached for your gun again and pointed it at him catching Joel and Eugene’s attention as Darwin raised his hands in surrender. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

You knew you were sobbing, your hands shaking violently. Joel and Eugene were talking to you and you knew you should listen but you couldn’t. You had shot someone. You had shot someone to save Ellie. An infected, sure. But it had been someone once.

“Hey there, Princess.” Her voice broke the quiet. “I’m gonna take that from you. I ain’t a fan of Darwin either but we can’t shoot him.”

She reached out and hit the safety on your gun before removing it from your shaking hands. You looked from Darwin to her and she shushed you when you tried to speak. “That’s okay, I just don’t wanna muck out the stalls if he’s dead.”

“I shot someone.” You whispered and Ellie shook her head. You could still see the body of the stalker so you nodded. “I did. I killed someone.”

“You saved my life, that’s what you did. You saved me.” Ellie told you and you blinked, focusing on her face. “You did your job and tracked the bloater and then you tracked the stalker. You saved my life, Princess.”

“I should’ve, I couldn’t-”

“Shh, that’s okay. Why don’t we head on home?” Ellie asked, helping you up off the ground. “Get some warm food and a decent bed to make up for last night. You okay to ride?”

“I can share with her.” Darwin reached out and you flinched away into Ellie. “It’s okay, Princess. It’s just me.”

“Don’t let him touch me.” You begged Ellie quietly. “Please don’t let him touch me.”

Ellie kept one arm around you as she guided you to the horses. She was talking to you quietly but all you could see was your shaking hands. The hands of a murderer.

“Time to get on up. You can share with me, okay?” Ellie asked. On autopilot you climbed up onto Shimmer and shifted forward when the press of Ellie warmed against your back.

“You and I are gonna talk when we get home.” Joel muttered in the background and you released a breath. Joel would protect you just like always.

///

You were in your bed. You didn’t know how you had gotten there. You were also in pyjamas. You didn’t remember putting them on. You felt off balance and shaky as you swung your legs over the edge of your bed.

The light behind your curtains told you it was midday but the last thing you remembered was closing in on the bloater with the others. When you staggered to your feet it came back to you slowly.

The stalker. You had shot it. Darwin’s hands reaching for you. Ellie and her calming voice trying to soothe you on the ride back to Jackson.

You opened your bedroom door and listened closely for voices. You and Dina lived together in your mommas old house. It wasn’t so much an offer you had made but a decision Maria had. Housing was better used for families than one single person and so Dina had joined you when her family were gone.

When you reached the living room Ellie was asleep on the sofa which surprised you. She had said something about beds. You could remember that much.

You wiped your eyes tiredly and fought a yawn as you stepped into the living room. She hadn’t changed her clothes or even gone home. Her pack was by the top of the sofa. You nudged one of her legs and her eyes opened slowly.

She sniffled a bit, a hand running over her face. When she blinked and looked up she saw you and rushed to sit up on the sofa. “You’re awake!”

“Just barely. What are you doing here?” You asked, confused. Ellie’s eyes tracked the length of your body and you folded your arms across your chest. Your pajamas weren’t the most attractive attire. “How did I get here?”

“I brought you home.” Ellie explained, patting the space beside her. You took a seat but left more distance than she had intended between you both. “You were sort of out of it for a while.”

“Yeah, that’s happens sometimes.” You muttered and looked down at your hands. “Did you put me to bed?”

“No. That was all Dina. I’ve been down here the whole time, I swear.” You nodded at her words and yawned again. Ellie didn’t say anything and you had nothing to say so you leaned back on the sofa and pulled your legs up under you.

You almost drifted off again when Ellie cleared her throat. You turned your head to look at her but she was staring down at her hands instead of meeting your eyes. “Darwin told us what happened.”

“Did he now?” You asked. Your hands tightened into fists so that they wouldn’t shake and you turned your face away from her to hide your expression. “I’m sure it was very informative.”

“He told us he kissed you.” Ellie sighed and you scoffed, shaking your head. “Yeah, Joel didn’t believe that story. So he asked him again, a little more forceful.”

“Oh.” You weren’t sure what else to say to that. You didn’t like the thought of people getting hurt but Darwin hadn’t cared about hurting you. “Is Joel gonna be in trouble?”

“No. Darwin isn’t going to talk to anyone about what happened.” Ellie assured you and you nodded slowly, your lips pursed. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Wasn’t you, was it?” You asked quietly. You fixed your gaze on the wall and picked at the skin around your nails. “Why haven’t you gone home?”

“Because I wanted to make sure that you were okay. And I wanted to apologise because I seen him do it. I saw him kiss you and I turned around and went back to bed.” You continued to stare at the wall and didn’t even try to fight the tears that welled in your eyes. “I didn’t know what it was. I heard arguing and I was just checking on you both. When I looked out you were kissing.”

You tried to fight it. The lump in your throat. Ellie was desperate to explain to you and you knew it wasn’t her fault. She couldn’t have known. But she should’ve known something hadn’t been right.

You sniffed and wiped at your face, flinching away from her hand when she reached for you. You blinked and more tears fell. “You guys were the first. You, Jesse and Dina. I hadn’t even admitted to myself really.”

You sniffed again and wiped under your nose with your sleeve. You probably looked a mess right now but for the first time in your life you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. “I uh- I never told my Momma. I didn’t know how she’d feel, always wanted me to find a husband. Give her grandbabies.”

“I told Darwin that I ignored it. That I always knew but I pushed it down.” Ellie stayed silent as you swallowed past the lump in you throat, wiping your eyes roughly with your sleeves. It took you a couple of seconds to get talking again and Ellie stared at her lap, picking her nails. “I told him it was you that helped me realize it. That helped me be confident enough to come out.”

Ellie opened her mouth but you only shook your head, raising you hand to stop her. Your hand was shaking and you clenched it into a fist letting it drop back down into your lap. “I’ve had people tell me I’m too pretty to be gay. I trusted you all to believe me.”

“So you’re saying this is my fault?” Ellie asked in shock and you sniffed again shaking your head. You scrubbed your hand over your face and swallowed past the recurring lump. “That’s what it fucking sounds like.”

“It’s no one faults but Darwin. He shouldn’t have done what he did but didn’t you question it for a second?” You asked her desperately. “Wasn’t there some part of you that wondered why I would do that with him. A man who has a history of being a little too forceful with his come ons?”

“How the hell was I supposed to know you hadn’t changed your mind? You always flirt with him! You were dancing together and you get dinner!” Ellie was yelling now but you didn’t have it in you to yell back. You were so drained of energy. “The short fucking skirts and tight jeans? Your tits are out most of the damn time.”

Ellie covered her mouth when your head snapped to look at her. Your jaw had dropped and your eyes widened as he words sunk in. “So it’s my fault?”

“No- that’s not what I’m-” Ellie stuttered out a half response and you stared at her. Waiting for something different. Waiting for her to explain it.

“You gave me the confidence to come out. To be myself and dress how I like. To not care about people thinking I’m too pretty to be gay. And everyday since you’ve chipped away at that confidence. You can have it all. Just get out of my house.” You spoke evenly but your voice cracked at the end and you swallowed. “Don’t come back. I don’t care if it’s to see Dina, I don’t care if the house is on fire, I don’t care if the walls of Jackson fall down. Just don’t come back.”

“Princess, please-”

“Get the fuck out! Get out now!” You screamed at her and she raised her hands in defense, heading for the door. You watched her leave before curling up on the sofa and crying yourself back to a fitful sleep.

///

“You okay?” You nodded at Dina as you grabbed your bag off the chair in the kitchen. She held out a mug and you sipped at it between attempts to slip into your boots. “New jeans?”

“Don’t.” You hadn’t talked about any of it you didn’t tell her why you argued with Ellie, why she couldn’t come around anymore. You didn’t give any excuse other than the colder weather for the reason you were covered in layers. “I’ve got an early patrol. I’ll make dinner.”

Dina watched you tie your hair back into a loose ponytail at the base of your skull. It hadn’t been curled since that disastrous patrol. Your face was usually free of make up now and Dina finally understood what you had tried to explain.

The beauty was half of who you were. Your sunny disposition was the other half. Without you putting effort into either halves you were just a shell, pushing through each day.

“I’m off today. I can make dinner. We can have some people over. Jesse, maybe Joel and Ellie?” Dina offered and you looked up from your mug, eyes narrowed. “Or not Ellie?”

“I don’t want her in the house, Dina.” You warned her, checking your gun was loaded before tucking it into the holster by your hip. “It’s non-negotiable.”

“If you would just tell me why I could help.” Dina insisted. She stopped in front of you and reached for your arms. You flinched away from her. “You went on patrol and you came back different. Eugene says you shot a stalker and it shook you? Why is Ellie the bad guy?”

“God, Dina! No one is the bad guy, okay?” You snapped, pulling away from her further, taking steps backwards. “It was time I got my priorities in order.”

Dina couldn’t reply before you turned on your heel and left the house, the door slamming behind you. She sighed and watched out the window as you headed for the stables.

Eugene was waiting for you when you arrived, tossing a pair of sunglasses at you. You almost fumbled, catching them at the last second. “Time you stop complaining, ain’t it?”

“Where’d you find ‘em?” You asked, sliding them on against the sunshine. You grinned and Eugene and he smiled back, leading you toward the two prepared horses.

“I didn’t. Someone passed them along for you.” Your grin dropped. You knew what that was code for. You busted a boot a week ago, a new pair waited on the porch in the days that followed. Now there was sunglasses while you were heading out on patrol.

“She should mind her own business.” You didn’t take the sunglasses off though. You needed them and they were a rarity these days. You pulled yourself up onto your horse, patting Henry on his neck as you headed for the gates.

“Think she feels bad. Don’t know why, ain’t her fault. Ain’t anyones fault. Accidents happen on a patrol, you shot the stalker. Everyone survived.” Eugene muttered waving the guards of the gate off. You nodded at Jesse when he shouted his goodbye.

“It’s a more personal issue.” You explained and Eugene nodded. You didn’t elaborate further and let him draw his own conclusions.

The patrol went easy, it was more a chance to enjoy the sun while riding through the forest. At the last outpost Eugene pulled his horse to a stop and you copied him, lifting your sunglasses to watch him.

“I told them we’d be late back. That we’d have a stop to make.” He offered you a grin and you took him up on that grin, turning your horse to where you knew he wanted to go.

///

You tossed yourself down on the sofa hand extended towards Eugene. He only laughed at you but he did in fact hand over the joint. You inhaled deeply from it and coughed a little.

“Doing God’s work, you know that?” You asked him with a sigh, tilting your head back to look at the ceiling above you.

“Feel like if anyone could do with some relaxin’ then it’d be you.” Eugene sat back on a stool, his own joint between his lips. “Now tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head, Princess.”

“It’s fucking stupid.” You sighed before inhaling again. You counted the cracks in the ceilings before throwing your arm over your eyes. “Darwin crossed a line. A big line.”

“Explained Joel near breaking his nose.” Eugene replied. You hadn’t seen Darwin in the month or so since that patrol but the rumors had reached you that he had returned with a bloody and bruised nose. “He hurt you?”

“He kissed me. Tried to prove some point that I didn’t like men cause I hadn’t tried them.” You explained and Eugene scoffed.

“I ain’t tried men and I sure as shit know I don’t like ‘em. Why would anyone want a man when there’s women?” Eugene asked. You couldn’t help but laugh at him, nodding in agreement. You inhaled again from the joint and lifted your arm to look at Eugene.

“Ellie, well she, I mean. You know how I felt about her, right?” You asked and Eugene only rolled his eyes releasing a puff of smoke. “I mean everyone knew how I felt. I loved her, I think.”

“Yeah, you’d have to be blind not to see it. That past tense is throwing me off though.” Eugene admitted. “What’s caused that?”

“Well she, I mean she saw it right? And she just thought I was kissin’ him. But she knew. Knew I didn’t like men. But she just went back to sleep. Now I ain’t blamin’ her. I ain’t. But why would she do that?” You asked Eugene. “I was just sitting there and he was holding me so I couldn’t pull away. She didn’t even try.”

“Sounds a lot like blame to me.” Eugene huffed and you frowned at him. “Probably sounded like it to Ellie too.”

“I’m not blaming her. I’m blaming Darwin. He’s the one who did it, he’s the one who hurt me.” You argued. “But she didn’t even second guess it.”

“You’re embarrassed. You never let Ellie see you anywhere less than perfect. Suddenly she sees you at the lowest you’ve ever been and you can’t cope with the embarrassment of that.” Eugene ran his fingers through his beard.

“Where in the fuck did that come from?” You asked in shock, sitting up on the couch. “You got a psychology degree or some shit?”

“I got life experience.” He rolled his eyes like it was obvious. “You can’t blame Ellie for Darwin’s actions.”

“I can blame her for her reaction. She said it was my fault, that I led him on. The way I acted and the way I dressed. Like I was asking for it.” You told him with a huff, inhaling one last time. “I shouldn’t have to dress a certain way to be safe.”

“No. You shouldn’t. But we also shouldn’t be stuck on this doomed rock fighting fucking monsters. Things aren’t always as they should be.” He sighed and you pouted at him. “Wearing the clothes you do makes you a target. Now it shouldn’t but it does. Being nice to Darwin though, that’s not leading him on. You were just tryna be his friend.”

“So now I have to dress like this all my life so men don’t think they got a right to me? I gotta forget what my momma thought me? Stop being pretty?” You asked and Eugene shrugged. “I don’t want to do that.”

“You already did. You don’t do your hair or makeup anymore. You’re wearing baggy clothes now.” Eugene pointed out and you sighed. He wasn’t wrong. “The thing is though. You’re still pretty. You’re beauty wasn’t cause a some powder or some curls. Your beauty comes from being the sweet girl you are.”

“You’re a sap.”

“Blame the weed.”

///

“I’ve got a present.” You could still feel the effects of the joint, partly responsible for your good mood when you stepped inside. You kicked off your boots and dropped your bag, passing the living room and heading for the kitchen only to pause and take two steps back.

Ellie was sitting on your sofa. Alone.

“Where’s Dina?” You asked quietly and Ellie shrugged, her lips pursed. “Thought I told you not to come around no more.”

“Dina said you changed your mind. To wait for you to get home so we could talk.” Ellie pushed herself up off the sofa. "But I'm guessing that's not true because it's not the kind of conversation to be had while high."

"Obviously it's not true. Didn't realize I'm not allowed to smoke. Guess I can't be pretty or fun anymore." You scoffed, shaking your head. "For someone who doesn't want to date me, you sure have a lot of expectations."

"I didn't say you couldn't be fun. I shouldn't have said what I said. I was wrong for that." Ellie sighed. "But I never said I didn't want to date you."

"Ellie, it might have taken me a while but I'm not an idiot. I get all dressed up so you'll look at me. I curl my hair hoping you'd run your fingers through it. I wear lipstick hoping I'll smudge it against your lips. I loved you and you never even looked at me twice." You sighed and stepped closer to Ellie. "You made me doubt my worth."

"Why would I need to look twice?" Ellie asked, a disbelieving laugh on her lips. She stepped closer to you, tilting her head and looking you over from head to toe. "I never looked away the first time."

"Oh."

Oh.

You swallowed nervously when she stepped closer, her hand landing on your hip softly to pull you the final step closer. You looked down at her hand and back up to her eyes. She was watching you, watching your reaction.

"I was trying to be better. Men look at you like they own you. People treat your beauty like it's theirs to take. I wanted to be better." She explained, barely a whisper. "I wanted you to know I liked you despite how tight your jeans were and how short your skirts were."

"How noble of you." You tried for sarcasm but it fell flat. "You could've just explained."

"I could've. Every time I tried I just sounded like an asshole." She shrugged and you swallowed, your mouth and throat dry. She was leaning in when you stepped back.

"I'm high. We shouldn't kiss like this." You whispered and Ellie nodded. She lifted a hand, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear with a small smile. "But I do wanna kiss you."

"How about you come find me when you're sober then?" She asked and you nodded, leaning into her hand. "We'll see about smudging some of that lipstick."

///

"Heading out, don't know when I'll be back." You yelled, hopping around to pull your boots on at the front door. You weren't quick enough and Dina leaned against the frame of the living room door, looking you over.

"You look hot," Dina observed and you nodded, fixing your hair in the mirror by the door. "Where are you headed?"

"Momma wouldn't ask me that, bless her soul." You huffed a laugh and swung your bag over your shoulder. "You and Jesse have manners while I'm gone, ya hear me?"

"You didn't answer the question!" Dina yelled and you opened the door, turning to look at her over your shoulder. "Where're you going?"

"Out, don't wait up, Mom." You called hurrying down the porch steps and getting away from her invasive questions. She knew where you were going. She had to. Ellie had been allowed back into the house and the pair of you were dancing around each other all week.

Ellie opened the garage door the second you knocked and you smiled brightly at her as you passed by her to get inside. You had been in Ellie's garage more times than you could count but you had never seen it so tidy.

"You clean up just for me?" You asked her as you dropped your bag by the end of her sofa. She rolled her eyes and shut the door but you could see the blush on her cheeks. She was embarrassed and it was oddly sweet.

"You dress up just for me?" Ellie asked, eyebrows raised. You on the other hand were prepared for her question. You nodded and held your arms out, a slow twirl just for her. You had no doubt she was getting the best view. "Damn, Princess.”

“It’s nice to have you appreciating me for once.” You hummed, finishing your twirl and leaning back against the arm of her sofa. “Make sure you get a good look.”

“For once?” She asked as she stepped away from the door and towards you. You only pursed your lips to hide your smile. “I once fell off Shimmer cause I was too busy staring at your ass.”

“You said your stirrup snapped!” You laughed in delight. She only rolled her eyes as she stepped closer. You spread your legs so that she could stand between them. “Tell me more.”

“That black eye I had two months back?” She asked and you nodded. “The door of the diner swung back and hit me because you had that tied off blouse on.”

“You liked that one?” You asked with a grin and she nodded, her hand coming to rest on the bare skin on your waist between your shorts and your top. “What about this one?”

It was a ribbed camisole that you had tucked up to leave your navel on display. Ellie took care to run her thumb under the fabric of it and let her hand slide from your waist across your stomach. She tapped her finger on the button of your shorts.

“Embroider these yourself?” She asked and you nodded in excitement, your fingers tracing down over the star embroidery.

“My momma thought me. And I have this book that helps with anything she didn’t get to teach me. It’s actually not so bad. And it’s a real constellation its-”

“Cassiopeia.” Ellie finished for you, her fingers following your path and tracing the familiar constellation. “I had a bit of a space thing for a while. Wanted to be an astronaut.”

“My momma found this Barbie doll for me once. It was Astronaut Barbie. She had this pink suit and she was so pretty and I knew if she was pretty and smart then I could be too.” Your voice grew quiet at the end and Ellie laughed, her crooked finger lifting your chin.

“That’s real cute, baby.” She teased and you chewed on your bottom lip. “So now you’re the prettiest girl in Jackson and the best damn tracker I’ve ever seen.”

“Prettiest girl?” You asked, an eyebrow raised. Ellie rolled her eyes and instead of giving in to you fishing for compliments she leaned in and kissed you.

It was only a sweet press of lips, innocent compared to what you had expected. Ellie pulled away only to press a trail of kisses down to your jaw and then followed the bone up to your ear.

“Now we can do one of two things.” She whispered, her teeth nipping at your ear lobe. “We can put on a movie, cuddle under a blanket and make out.”

“What’s my other option?” You asked, your breath hitching as she kissed down the side of your neck. Still just innocent pressed of her lips.

“I take off these pretty little shorts and I fuck you dumb.” Your whole body trembled as she spoke against your collar bone. “Oh you like that idea.”

///

“Please, please.” You’re sobbing at this point, your fingers tangled in Ellie’s hair. She’s been eating you out to the point of two orgasms and she’s only just pushing a finger into you now. “Ellie, please.”

“Please what?” Ellie asks innocently. You look down at her, releasing your death grip of her hair and she looks up at you. Her chin is shiny with you and she licks her lips as you watch. Your head thumps back against her pillows. “Use your words, I haven’t fucked you yet. You can’t be this dumb just from my finger and tongue.”

“Fuck me.” You moaned as she added a second finger. “Need you to fuck me.”

Ellie, never being one to be unprepared, had surprised you. While getting undressed you had found Ellie wearing a strap and it had sped up the whole process of getting clothes off.

“Hmm, I don’t know if you’re ready for my cock, baby.” She hums and you groan, your pussy tightening around her fingers. “Maybe another finger?”

“Ellie, babe, your cock, please. Please.” You were crying actual tears and begging without shame for her. You had wanted it in your since you had found it on her and you were so frustrated you had resorted to tears.

“Oh there’s my big dumb baby.” Ellie teased, withdrawing her fingers. You looked down at her and she was spreading your slick over the head of her cock. “Awh, is my baby crying? Your pussy so needy for my cock that it brought you to tears, huh?”

You could only nod, sniffling. She took your chin between her thumb and finger and tilted your head down so you could watch her cock press into you. “Fucking yes!”

“That feel good?” Ellie asked and you sobbed, pushing down against her slow place. “You gonna fuck yourself on my dick baby? Gonna do all the work?”

“Please. I can. I can ride you.” You offered but Ellie only shook her head.

“Not the first time. I’m gonna fuck you just like this for the first time. Then I’m gonna fuck you in every position you can contort this pretty body into. It’s gonna be a long night baby.” Ellie warned and your eyes rolled back in your head as your third orgasm overtook you.

///

Ellie was lying on her back, one arm behind her head and the other wrapped around you where you lay on her shoulder. She was tracing patterns against your spine and you were trying to guess the patterns but your brain was floating way above your body.

“I like when you dress up. I like how confident you are and how bright you smile when I like what you’re wearing.” Ellie told you quietly. “But like this? Sleepy and a mess. Well I just know I fell in love with that version of you, the morning we argued.”

“Fell in love?” You asked her, your thoughts coming back down to earth. You looked up at her, a slight tilt of your head but she didn’t look at you. “You’re in love with me?”

“How couldn’t I be, baby? A sweet little dumb baby in bed and smart, gorgeous woman who’s a force unto her own out on the streets of Jackson. You don’t make it hard to love you.” She promised, pushing you hair behind your ear.

“You already know I love you too. Even if you do bully me in bed.” You giggled and she grinned at you. “It’s kind of hot actually.”

“Hmm, we’ll explore that another time, get some sleep.” She whispered, ducking down to kiss your forehead. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

[a-babe-without-a-name]

Sit Next To Me

Chapter 1: To a Good Fucking Semester.

You had created two rules for yourself.

Rule One: You could do whatever you wanted. Get the degree you want, party when you want, cancel plans when you want, love who you want. Whatever you really wanted to do, you were going to do, anxiety and guilt free.

Rule Two: You could do whatever you wanted, except for have relationships with classmates. No sex, no dating. If they were on the same course roster as you, they were off limits.

Easy enough, right?

...Right?

Viktor x Female!Reader - 18+

A.N. Very proud of myself for getting my own thing out of my google docs and onto the internet for once. This is very self indulgent and possibly a little ooc, but it's an AU so who cares?

Also, biggest shout out in the world to @hivemuthur. I am the biggest fan of their writing and I'm obsessed with their fic The Game of Teaching Body. I hadn't even considered writing a college au until I read Teaching Body and now I'm fully in it. I've really regained my love for writing fanfic for myself as opposed to an audience and it's definitely because of them. Anyways, all love to them and if you haven't already, go read everything that they've written asap!

Another Author Note: No smut in this chapter, but chapter 2 is already posted ;)

Read on AO3

You were going to take this semester seriously. Your 5th of your college career, first of Junior year, this was the time to get serious. If you fuck up now, the chances of having to take an extra semester went up by an uncomfortable percentage. Yeah, you were going to take this semester very very seriously…key word were. Then Jayce and Cait decided to throw a party at their house. A huge ‘welcome back’ thing that was sure to be very fun and very well attended. Jayce was one of your closest friends, it would be offensive honestly if you didn’t show up to his first party of the year. Syllabi reviews and practice tests could wait until Sunday. 

You dug through your small closet in search of something to wear that hadn’t already been worn to a dozen other house parties. At this point half your clothing was pulled off their hangers and tossed on your bed. You pulled a light blue baby tee off a hanger, the low neckline was lined with a hint of lace.

“How’s this?” You held the shirt up to show Lest, already ready and scrolling through her phone

“Very cute,” Her freckled face looking at you upside down, “Not with that skirt, though.” She pointed to the button up denim skirt you had put on earlier.

“With what then?” You pulled on the top. 

“Must I dress you everyday,” Lest whined half heartedly.

“Well, yeah. What other reason would I willingly live with a fashion major?” You joked.

“Because you’re in love with me, obviously,” She scoffed, rolling off her bed and straightening her dress as she stood, “Do you still have those black shorts? The boxy ones with the high waist?”

“Er, yes…” You said hesitantly, opening a dresser drawer and digging through your pants until you found them. Next to you Lest began putting your clothes back on their hangers, “Yes, I do.”

You stripped off your skirt, handing it to Lest when she reached for it to hang up, and pulled on the shorts. You looked at yourself in the mirror, content enough with the outfit. It was a little boring, but at least it was comfortable.

“And lose the bra,” Lest poking the side of your boob, looking at you over your shoulder in the mirror, “Trust me.”

You purse your lips in the mirror, but shrugged and took the  suggestion anyways. Reaching behind your back to unclip your bra and toss it to the side.

“Better?” You asked, posing dramatically for her.

“Perfect,” She gave you a dramatic smile, her nose scrunching, “Now grab your stuff, the Uber will be here in 5.”

“Oh, fuck Lest, I’m not ready.” You whined, scrambling around your room to grab your things.

“Well get ready then, we have a party to get to!” She opened your door and gave a cheeky wave over her shoulder as she disappeared into the hallway. 

The party was in full swing when you and Lest reached Jayce and Cait’s house. The front yard was mostly empty, only a few stragglers wandering in and out, but the bass of the music could be felt from the street and colorful lights flashed in the front window. A sudden spark of excitement twisted in your stomach. It had been months since you last spent actual time with most of your friends. You had seen a handful of them in passing during this first week of classes, but you quickly realized that the free hours you had between classes didn’t line up with anyone else's. You missed your people and couldn't wait for another year with them by your side. 

You grabbed Lest by the hand, walking quicker up to the front door. You shoved open the door as much as you could, a wall of awkward freshmen hovering at the entrance blocking the way. You could feel the beat of a Pitbull song in your throat as you moved through the house. You opened the closet under the stairs, a hasty “Housemates Only” sign taped to the door. You and Lest were included in this of course, as were a handful of other friends close to Jayce and Cait. The bags tossed on the floor told you exactly who was here already. You added yours to the mix and continued to push through sweaty bodies in search of your friends. 

You found them in the kitchen. Mel was sitting on the counter, Jayce leaning against the edge between her legs, his back pressed against her chest. Cait was securely under Vi’s arm, hiding her laugh behind the red cup in her hand. You were surprised to see that even Sky had shown up, awkwardly sipping at a can of seltzer and hovering next to Jayce. 

When Mel spotted you pushing through the other people in the kitchen she gasped! Excitedly pushing Jayce away so she could hop off the counter. She squealed your name, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and squeezing harder than a girl her height should be able to. She pulled away and put her forehead to yours, widening her eyes with a dumb grin.

“Hi, Melly-Bear!” You giggled, glad she always kept up with the same silly greeting, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Darling,” Her pretty accent only slightly slurred on alcohol. You could smell something fruity on her breath.

She pulled away, giving you one more hug before letting you go to greet the others. Jayce hugged you as Mel accosted Lest next. 

“Thought you bailed on us,” Jayce laughed, pulling a can out of the ice filled sink and popping it open before handing it to you. Always a gentleman. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” You practically had to shout over the music, “Wardrobe struggles.”

“That’s what you landed on?” Jayce teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Actually it’s what Lest landed on,” You snarked up at him, “Don’t insult the love of my life.”

“I think your outfit is cute!” Sky slurred, looking around Jayce, her cheeks were flushed already. She was definitely drunker than you had thought she was, “and your tits look amazing.”

“Thank you very much Sky,” You said with exaggerated politeness, and then quietly to Jayce, “She’s fucked up.”

“I know, we’re keeping an eye on her,” He nodded, pulling a beer out of the sink behind you.

“Who’s sober tonight?” You asked as Mel rejoined you and wrapped an arm around Jayce’s waist.

“That would be me,” Vi said across from you, raising a half hearted hand.  

““Drew the short straw, huh? Tragic,” Lest said, shaking her head with mock pity.

“She can have fun sober,” Cait insisted, pointedly taking a sip of her own drink.

“Exactly!” You teased, “Well you have your sober fun, the rest of us are gonna do tequila shots.”

“Brilliant idea!” Mel gasped, clasping her hands together.

She got to work, pulling out plastic shot glasses from the cupboard and carefully filling them with the shitty tequila Jayce kept around for when everyone was already drunk. Cait opened the fridge behind her, the bright light from it jarring in the dark kitchen, and pulled out a tupperware of cut up lime. She passed the container and a shaker of salt around, and Mel handed out the little cups, making sure Sky received the one with cold water in it.

“Hey Vi, where’s Jinx and Ekko?” You asked as you took a piece of lime, realizing the youngest members of your little group were missing.

“They’re at that concert,” She told you, taking Cait’s cup so she could hold her shot.

“Oh shit, I didn’t realize it was tonight.” You said, licking the back of your hand and shaking salt onto it.

“Lame, they definitely would have had more fun here,” Mel sighed dramatically, setting down the container of limes and salt after everyone had gotten some. 

“Wait, where’s V?” Jayce asked Cait, she shrugged.

“Who?” Lest asked, taking a small sniff of the tequila and scrunching her nose.

“Viktor, he’s our new roommate,” Jayce said, “I’ve known him forever. He’s the best, y’all will like him.”

He turned looking out into the crowd of people on the other side of the breakfast bar, squinting like that would actually help him find the guy.

“Viktor!” He shouted, when there was no response he tsked, “probably snuck off to his room. Not really a party guy.” Jayce told you with a shrug, “Next time, I guess.”

Your circle of friends gathered a little closer, excited to be all back together again after the boring summer months. Jayce held up his shot, everyone else followed suit.

“To a good fucking semester!” He said triumphantly.

“To a good fucking semester!” Everyone shouted back, lifting their shots just a little higher before licking the salt off their hands and shooting, a round of groans following as they bit into the limes. The fruit did nothing to make the shitty tequila taste any better.  

“Yeah, not feelin’ too bad about being the sober one right now,” Vi grimaced, sipping on an energy drink instead. 

Lest grabbed you by the hand, pulling you to the living room where all of the furniture had been pushed against the walls. With your drink still in hand, you moved with her to the beat of the music. Your focus on each other keeping away any unwanted attention in the crowded space. The other joined you eventually, Sky sliding up to you and Lest. You put your hands on her hips - stiff even when she was drunk - you pulled her closer to you. Lest moved so Sky was between you and her. Sky’s face reddened, the drinks and closeness making her blush creep all the way up to her pretty hairline.

“I’m glad you came out,” You leaned in close so she could hear you, “This is your first party right?”

“Yeah,” She shouted back, beginning to loosen up in your hands, “I’m…I’m so drunk.” She admitted, you could see the apology behind her eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” You told her, “Everyone gets too fucked up the first time they go out, it’s inevitable.”

“Really?” She asked, hopeful.

“Yeah, of course,” You nodded, leaning in further to talk in her ear, your cheek rubbing against hers, “At my first party, I got so drunk off canned wine that I took my bra off and tossed it in someone's pool.”

“No!” She gasped, pulling back slightly to see if you were lying.

“Yep, everyone has to pay their dues to the party gods,” You shrugged, feeling Lest’s hand brush against yours on Sky’s waist, “So don’t worry about being too drunk. Just relax and let yourself have fun. Vi is the responsible one tonight, she won’t let anything happen to you.”

Sky nodded, relaxing into you and Lest. Time blurred as the three of you danced. Mel and Jayce and Cait and Vi somewhere close by. Each song faded into the next, only your favorites standing out. Sometimes the beat of the song would pull you away from Sky and Lest, the three of you wanting more room to dance and move. Others pulled you flush against Sky’s back, your hips grinding against her to the rhythm of the song. The only moments where you stopped dancing was when your drink needed to be replaced. 

Your body was aching by the time Sky stopped moving, breathing heavily.

“I’m gonna go get water,” She shouted over the music, “It’s so hot in here.”

“Okay, do you want someone to go with you?” You asked, still lightly moving to the beat.

“No, I’m okay,” She laughed, shaking her head, “I think I’m gonna take a break…forever.”

“Okay, find us or text the group chat if you need anything, okay?” She grinned and gave a thumbs up as she snaked through the crowd back towards the kitchen. 

You swished your drink around in its can, debating if you wanted another or not.  A heavy hand landed on your shoulder, interrupting the thought. You gasped, yanking your shoulder away and whipping around angrily to whoever grabbed you. 

“Easy there tiger,” Jayce laughed, side eyeing you , “Have you considered this is why you’re single.”

“Have you considered my boot in your ass?” You snapped, but relaxed your shoulders anyways.

“No, but I have considered kicking your ass at rage cage,” He shrugged.

“In your dreams, Talis” You scoffed, following him to the dining table.

Mel was arranging a large cluster of plastic cups on the table, Cait and Vi already cracking cans and pouring a little bit into each. Some freshmen were hanging around, hesitant to join the game. Mel picked up a half empty cup from the center, extending it out to you.

“Your contribution?” She asked, as you peered into the cup. It was already a cloudy mix of beer and seltzer and backwash. You tipped the remnants of your can into the cup. She went around, having the freshman pour bits of their own drinks into the Bitch Cup. 

“Anyone allergic to cinnamon?” Jayce asked, holding up a handle of Fireball with a smirk.

“Ew, why do you even have that?” You grimaced as he poured a shot into the cup.

“What? You don’t fuck with Fireball and Dr.Pepper?” He asked, tilting another shot into the cup.

“Nobody should,” You fake gagged, “But go ahead and keep pouring it in if you love it so much, you’ll be the one drinking it.”

“Delusional,” Jayce shrugged, setting himself up at the other side of the table, tossing one ping pong ball to you and testing the bounce of the other, “You're delusional.”

Mel began explaining the rules to the couple of freshies that hadn’t played before. They nodded with false confidence.

“Wait, where’s V?” He asked, standing up straight and looking around the crowd for his elusive friend again.

“He was here a minute ago,” Violet told him, looking around as well. At this point you weren't sure that he wasn’t a made up guy.

“He keeps disappearing,” Jayce pouted, and then to you, competitive air completely gone in the moment, “I wanted you to meet him. He’s cool, you’ll get along.”

“Jayce, babe, he’s probably out making new friends on his own,” Mel laughed, “You know, that thing people do at parties.”

“Boo, lame. He needs to be friends with all of my friends, first,” Jaye pouted, and then without warning snatched up one of the perimeter cups, downed the contents, and began trying to bounce the ball into it. 

“Oh, fuck you!” You yelped, grabbing a cup and drinking it so quickly you barely tasted what it was. It was cheap beer. The aftertaste clung to the back of your throat, making you cringe as you tried to get the ball in the cup before the other one caught up.

You blinked down at the complete stack of cups in front of you, horrified at the outcome of this game. Jayce shook with laughter across from you, bracing himself on the dining room table. 

“I was set up!” You insisted, gesturing to the freshman that had set the cup to the right of you every time they got it in on the first try, “I don’t even know these kids and they were against me the whole time! What’d you do, Talis? Pay them?”

“Don’t accuse me of bribery!” He gasped, mock offended as he wiped tears away, “This is what you get for being cocky.”

“Fuck you, man, this is misogyny!” You crossed your arms over your chest, pouting.

“Sure is! Now, drink the Bitch Cup like a lady,” He smirked, extending the nearly overflowing red cup. 

You peered into the cup, nauseous spit flooding the back of your mouth at the cloudy liquid. At the look on your face, Jayce hesitated.

“I mean, I like fireball, I don’t mind helping you out,” He could barely hide his cringe as he offered to help. 

“No way,” You snapped, taking the cup. You'd rather have a hangover from hell than anyone's pity, “I’m not a pussy.”

You took a deep breath and began to drink from the cup. Tilting it back as much as you could without dumping it all over yourself. The girls were chanting your name, urging you on. The taste was awful, the burn of the whiskey was worse. Cinnamon and sour beer overpowered your senses as you drained the cup, breathing in through your nose. Little streams of liquid dripped down the corners of your mouth as you neared the bottom. You finished it off with a shudder. Gasping and fighting back the urge to gag, your stomach turning.

 “I’m gonna get water,” You grimaced, dropping the empty cup into the stack instead of dinging it off Jayce’s head like you wanted to

“Proud of you!” Jayce teased as you walked away, you flipped him off with both hands as you backed into the kitchen.

At this point in the night Jayce’s house was at max capacity, and the kitchen was especially crowded. You pushed through people to get to the counter, searching for a clean cup. Only the plastic bag they had come in was left behind, red cups scattered around the counter with varying amounts of liquid in them.

“Animals,” You muttered, huffing at the lack of options and incredible waste. 

You pushed through the crowd again, trying to get to the far side of the kitchen to get a glass instead. You found Sky sitting on the counter, taking down to someone leaning on the counter next to her, a solo cup in her hand. 

“Sky! My sweet baby angel,” You gasped, sliding between her knees and wrapping your arms around her waist in a tight hug. You could feel the liquor from the bitch cup throwing you off balance. You reached up, cupping her face in your hands, “Promise me you will never ever play a drinking game, you’re too good for that.”

Sky giggled, pressing her face to your palm. She didn’t seem any less drunk than earlier.

“That’s water right?” You nodded to the cup in her hand, leaning away from her and bringing your hands down to her knees.

“Yep,” She nodded, extending the cup towards your face, “Want a sip?”

You let her tip some into your mouth, accepting the drink mostly to confirm that it was actually water. Luckily it was.

“Thanks babe,” You said, pulling away and wiping your mouth on the back of your hand. You suddenly remembered she had been talking to someone before you walked up, “But, I’m gonna get my own.”

You looked over to who she was talking to and found yourself a little surprised. He wasn’t someone you recognized, but he looked too old to be a freshman. What really threw you off was the fact that he was intimidatingly beautiful. Even in the low lighting he had the most gorgeous amber eyes and a bone structure that rivaled any model. You realized not only were you caught off guard, but now you were staring. Sky didn’t notice she continued talking about whatever they had been talking about before you showed up, but he did. A small motion of his brows, perfect eyes narrowing just slightly. 

You threw walls up, trying to cover your embarrassment with attitude. You leaned in just slightly, narrowing your eyes as you looked up at him and reached up towards his shoulder. Judging by the way he shifted back slightly, his eyes glancing to your hand with just a little bit of confusion, you were able to trip him up just the same. 

“S’cuse me, Pretty Boy,” You said, your lips forming a crooked smile, “Just tryna’ get a glass.”

His mouth formed a small ‘o’ shape and he stepped over quickly, leaning against Sky’s legs. You opened the cabinet and pulled out a glass. Not acknowledging him as you went through the motions, but very aware of where he was. You grabbed Sky’s knee before walking away.

“Find me if you wanna dance again, okay?” You told her, she gave a squinty smile and nodded before you walked away. 

You heard Jayce’s voice in your head. Have you considered this is why you’re single?

It was just after midnight and the party still showed no real signs of slowing. You and Jayce had tapped out on drinking but were still having a good time. You both leaned near the back door, watching the others play a round of beer pong. Lest and Mel had teamed up against Cait and Vi and unfortunately, due to Vi’s soberness,were getting crushed. You laughed as another ball splashed into a cup on Lest and Mel’s side. 

“Nooo!” Lest whined dramatically, dragging her hands down her perfect face. She picked up the cup anyways, downing the contents and setting it to the side. 

“I think we’re rooting for the wrong team here,” Jayce laughed in the middle of your conversation, swirling red gatorade around in his cup, 

“Hey, unless I’m playing, I don’t take sides,” You held your hands up in defence. 

You and Jayce both looked up at the ceiling pretending to be really interested in the lights when Lest and Mel turned to glare at you.

You dropped the act when they turned away. Jayce laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, honestly, I’m really excited to get a jump on capstone.” He told you, “I mean, we don’t have to technically do anything until next year, but It'll be nice to be ahead, we’ll make more progress for sure.”

“We?” You asked, you hadn’t noticed the plural earlier in the conversation.

“Yeah, now that Viktor transferred we’re gonna do our capstone together!” He was excited to bring up his friend again, “We’ll be doing the same amount of work as we would be if we were working separately, but still, both of our ideas are better when we work together.”

“Ya know, that’s nice and all, but I still don’t believe this Viktor guy exists,” You shrugged, “I mean all night it's been ‘where’s Viktor?’ ‘Where's Viktor?’ But doesn’t he live here? Why haven't I seen him?”

“I swear on my mother he’s real,” Jayce said, rubbing a hand down his face, “He’s not really a party guy, but he said he’d stay and party and meet people. Honestly, I think that lasted about an hour and a half before he bailed. He probably drove down to the pier to smoke a cigarette and listen to Alex Turner or something.”

You scoffed, “Sounds like an interesting guy.”

“Hey, don’t judge him before you see him.” He insisted, “He’s quiet, but he’s not shy or weird, ya know? He’s cool, trust me.”

“Damn, you really have a hard on for this guy,” You teased. Jayce always talked about people like this, you were sure he saw his friends the same way as he saw stars in the sky.

“Hey, I won’t deny it. If I was into guys, he’d be the one for me.” Jayce assured, and then backtracked when Mel shot him a look, “IF, I said. But I’m not, I’m not into girls either, not unless their name is Mel Medarda. I’m Mel-Sexual.”

“Okay, reel it in a little bit,” Mel said, rolling her eyes but laughing with him anyways.

You were about to suggest a study hangout on Sunday night, it would be a good chance to both confirm that Viktor was in fact real and get your practice tests done before class. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, the sliding door opened and a couple of boys fell into the house. In their drunken shoving of each other as they came in, one slammed right into Jayce’s back causing his drink to splash almost completely onto you. You curse, wiping red Gatorade off your chin.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” He said hands hovering front of him for a moment before he rounded on the boys, they didn’t even acknowledge what happened, “Okay fuckers, you’re done.” He grabbed both of them by the back of the shirt and began hauling them towards the door, “Go home, no more Rune Street Parties for you two.” 

“Oh shit,” Lest said, inspecting the mess on your shirt, the red dye of the drink splashed dramatically over the blue fabric.

“Damn, I just got this top,” You pouted as Jayce came back.

“Dude, I am so sorry,” He rubbed his forehead, “I should have kicked them out sooner, they’ve been obnoxious all night. Listen, I have clothes in the dryer, you can go throw your top in the wash and steal a t-shirt.”

You thought for a second, wondering if the $15 shirt was worth the trouble of Jayce’s offer. You sighed and nodded.

“Okay, thanks,” You frowned, the drink making you feel sticky.

“Of course, you remember how to use that washer, right?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’ll just do a quick wash and come back when it’s done.” You told him, sliding open the door.

“Yeah, text me if you need anything.” He told you as you stepped into the backyard. 

This past summer you had done summer research until the end of June, during that time you had sublet a room in the house. Grateful to not have been holed up in a hotel room for a month. It was a great house, almost perfect even. Its only real quirk was the fact that the washer and dryer were installed in a small garage at the very back of the yard. There were a few people milling about, smoking and drinking on the deck, but the further you got into the yard, the less kids were around. Everyone in the house smoked in the garage, it was comfier than sitting in the weather sometimes, and kept the neighbors from complaining. 

The garage wasn’t off limits to anybody, but unless Jayce invited people in, it usually went unused during parties. No one thinking to look inside for a place to sit. Tonight, though, you could see the light inside turned on. The warm light shining through the thin curtains Cait had put up. 

You paused outside the door, listening for what might be happening on the other side. When you were sure that you weren’t going to walk in on anyone fucking, you went inside. You couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corners of your mouth.

Pretty Boy was sitting on one of the couches shoved into the small space. He didn’t react to you opening the door, the wired earbuds he was wearing prevented him from hearing you. You took a moment to look at him in better lighting without being caught. His head was tipped against the back of the couch, eyes closed. His dark lashes bushed against the top of his cheeks that were flushed with just a little bit of pink. The lines of his jaw and throat were perfect, a couple of beauty marks standing out against his pale skin. One hand was tapping out the beat on the arm of the couch, smoke slowly rising half gone joint between his fingers. You wondered if his hands were warm or cold. 

‘Okay creeper’ You thought to yourself shaking the thoughts away from your head, ‘that’s enough.’

You shut the door harder than you normally would, unable to think of another way to get his attention. He furrowed his eyebrows and sat up, finally looking at you by the door. He pulled his earbuds out.

“Hey Pretty Boy,” You smirked, not letting yourself be pinned under his gaze.

“What happened to you?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. You realized that you hadn't heard him speak earlier in the house, the accent he had was interesting. He tilted his head, waiting for a response.

“Oh, uh, Jayce happened,” You scoffed, shaking your head and pulling the bottom of your shirt away to look at the mess, “I’m sure he’d cover my entire life in Red-40 if he could.”

“Hm, unfortunate,” He muttered, “It’s a nice shirt.”

“Well hopefully drowning it in Tide will save it,” You shrugged, opening up the washing machine. 

He watched as you grabbed a Metallica t-shirt out of the half folded basket of laundry on the counter. You were sure Jayce had never listened to a Metallica song in his life. Pretty Boy continued to watch you as you held the shirt in your hands, fidgeting and staring at him awkwardly. When he didn’t take the hint, you turned your back to him fully and peeled the sticky shirt off. You wished you could do something about the Gatorade dried on your skin before putting on the clean shirt, but oh well.

When you turned around he was looking the other direction, but you could see that his face was flushed red all the way to his ears. You snorted, rolling your eyes at him. The fastest cycle on Jayce’s washer was still 25 minutes. Not ideal, but it’d have to do. You tossed the stained shirt into the drum, poured a little too much detergent in, and started it up. 

“Hm, you better work, bitch.” You whispered to the machine, suddenly worried about the fate of your top.

“Are you talking to the washer?” He turned back around to face you.

“I’m encouraging her.” You said seriously, sitting on the other arm of the couch, “There’s, like, 25 minutes on the cycle, cool if I wait here?”

“I’m not going to stop you,” He said, placing the joint between his teeth and relighting it. 

The cherry glowed as he inhaled, smoke pouring out of his perfect nose as he exhaled. He looked back over to you, extending the joint out, both an offer and question. You considered for a second, before taking it. The way he held it to you didn’t allow enough skin contact for you to tell what his hands felt like. They were pretty up close, slender but not dainty. 

“So,” You began, sliding off the arm to sit more comfortably and taking a hit, “Why’re you out here all alone, Pretty Boy?”

“Hm, didn’t like the music,” He said casually, picking at the frayed edge of the couch cushion.

“Nobody actually likes party music,” You laughed, dragging your knees to your chest and resting your chin against them, “It’s just to drown out any thoughts that the alcohol didn’t already get rid of.”

“Very introspective,” He nodded. You weren’t sure that it was.

“Well, what’re you listening to instead, then?” You glanced down at his phone next to him, music still playing faintly through the earbuds.

He picked up the phone and yanked the cord out. 

“-er’s lovers to be had, those walls will make sinners out of such lovely lads,” played out of the small speakers.

“Oh, this is a good one,” You nodded along to the Arctic Monkeys song, smirking when you said, “Definitely better than David Guetta. Playlist or album?”

“Album,” He told you, accepting the joint back after you took another hit.

“So you’re the kinda guy to hide away in the garage with British indie rock and bad weed?”

“First of all, it is not bad weed, it is subpar weed,” He defended, “And second, I’m not hiding. If I were hiding, I wouldn’t have been found.”

“Kinda seems like you’re hiding,” You shrugged, taking back the subpar weed, “I mean, Sky seemed real interested in you and you’re out here instead of with her.”

“Sky went home actually,”

“And you didn’t go with her?!”

“Her roommate took her home, she was smashed.”

“Sky doesn’t have a roommate.” You told him, furrowing your eyebrows.

“What?” He sat upright, horror on his face.

A crooked grin plastered your face, “Kidding, kidding.”

“That was very fucked up,” He huffed, putting a hand to his forehead as he fell back against the couch.

“Sorry, it was too good an opportunity to pass up,” You hid your laugh against your knee, “l am glad Sky got home, though. Her roommate is a little weird, I’ve never seen her at a party before.”

“Her? I thought Sky’s roommate was a man?” Pretty Boy tilted his head and your stomach dropped, you were sure you’d never be able to breathe again before a cheeky smile tugged at his lips.

“Fuck you, Pretty Boy.” You gasped, dropping your forehead to your knees, heart hammering like you’d just run a marathon.

��I’m sorry,” He laughed, and then, “it was too good an opportunity to pass up.”

“I deserved that,” You blinked, lips pursed.

Realizing the joint had gone out, you swiped a lighter off the table. You sat criss cross on the couch facing him.

“Still,” You said around the joint as you lit it, “Fucked up or not, she seemed to like you alot, probably wound’t have minded you around.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes as you steered back towards that line of thought, “Sky is nice.”

“Ouch,” You cringed, “Sky is nice…but?”

“She is nice, but she’s… too nice,” He said slowly, trying to find the right words, “She’s amazing, but definitely the kind of girl who would want to marry the first guy that fucks her.”

“You’re assuming she’s a virgin?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Tell me, is my assumption wrong?” He asked with a tight smile, like he already knew your answer.

“Well, no,” You ducked your head, “But don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“Said what?” He raised an eyebrow, you snorted a laugh at the response, “And hey, I think it is absolutely fine if people want to marry their first. I, however, am not, eh, compatible with those kinds of people.”

“That’s fair,” You scoffed, passing the joint back over to him. 

You didn’t realize the high creeping in during your conversation. It was on you know, though, clouding your brain and making your head feel heavy and your thoughts chase eachother in circles. You shifted again, moving to sit properly on the couch, the heels of your hightops propped on the edge of the messy coffee table. Pretty Boy was back to tapping along to the beat of his music, equally as stoned. You felt the threadbare fabric under your fingertips, hand gliding across the couch cushion next to you as you zoned out. When your movement produced a crackling package sound, you stopped. Head lolling as you frowned and lifted your palm. The spiky edge of a packet was sticking out from between the cushions. You pulled it out.

“Ha!” You snorted a laugh when you realized what it was.

“Hm?” Pretty Boy hummed next to you, looking over.

“Pokemon cards,” You and Jayce had gotten these at a gas station sometime last year, wanting to learn how to play, “I forgot about these.” 

You pulled the cards out of the already torn wrapper, only four remained. You turned over the first card, a Solrock. 

“Smash or pass?” You snorted and held the card out for Pretty Boy to see.

“Pardon?” He raised his eyebrows at you.

“Smash or pass?” You insisted, like you were asking him the time of day.

“I don’t understand.” He told you, shaking his head.

“Would you have consensual sex with - smash- this being, or not - pass-?” You explained.

“It’s…it’s a- what even is it?” He looked at it in almost horror.

“It’s Solrock, duh. It’d be warm,” You offered, “C’mon, it’s not like you have to marry it,”

“Pass,” He said with a heavy sigh.

“See, was that so hard?” You teased, holding up the next card, “Xatu, smash or pass?”

“That’s a bird.” 

“He’s a handsome bird, very stoic and responsible looking.”

“”Wait,” He stopped you, “You didn’t tell me your decision, that is not fair. Smash or pass Solrock?”

“Oh, pass for sure,” You told him, “the spikes are too obvious, who knows where they’ve been.”

“You thought too much about that,” He plucked the Xatu card from your hand, looking at it closer, “ What about this one?”

“Like I said, stoic and handsome, smash.” 

“Hm, interesting.” He handed the card back to you, “Pass.”

“Lopunny, smash or pass?” You said, smirking as you flipped the next card because you knew exactly what he would say.

“Eh, pass…” He said, hesitation clear.

“Nah, don’t lie,” You teased, “I won’t tell anybody. Just admit you want to fuck the sexy rabbit pokemon.”

“Nope, pass,” He tried to hold firm, but your expectant look drew a groan. He dropped his head into his hands, “...smash.”

“I knew it,” You poked his side, grinning, “Me too, smash all the way.”

“If you tell anybody,” He warned, holding a finger up at you.

“I just told you I’d smash Xatu,” You deadpanned, flipping over the last card. “Which is definitely more controversial. Here, last one.”

You held up the Onix card to him, “Smash or Pass?”

“It’s a rock worm,” He scoffed, “Pass, clearly.”

“First of all, he’s a rock snake,” You cleared up, “And second, smash.”

“What!?” His mouth fell open, blinking at you.

“Look at his face! It’s about the emotion,” You defended, “He looks…determined, driven. Attractive qualities.”

“Sometimes I wish I could be in other people's heads,” He scoffed, relighting the joint once more, “Just for a minute.” 

“It’s better you stay in your own pretty head,” You told him, smirking as you lent back against the sofa. You didn’t realize it but over the course of your silly little game you had gotten very close. Your shoulder was practically behind his, you could smell his cologne and feel the heat of his thigh pressed to yours, “You’d never be the same once being in mine.”

“Jasně,” He muttered as you blew smoke out of his nose again, handing the joint over to you. 

You took a hit. Curiosity getting the better of you, you asked, “Where are you from?”

“Česko,” He looked down at you, face closer than you expected, “You people call it Czechia.”

“Oh, where is that?” You had heard of the country, but couldn’t think of where it was exactly.

“In Europe.” He told you, his pupils were blown out.

“I know that,” You scoffed, bumping your shoulder against his and rolling your eyes, “Where in Europe? I’m bad at geography, explain it to me.”

He smirked softly, you could imagine his accent saying ‘Americans’ in your head, “It’s East of Germany, South of Poland, west of Slovakia and North of Austria. It’s in central Europe.”

“Hm, okay, see that was helpful,” You said, gesturing around with your hands, “What brought you to the U.S.?”

“Piltover, specifically the engineering program,” You weren’t surprised, that was why most people attended the University of Piltover, “You ask a lot of questions.”

“You think that’s a lot?” You snorted, “I can ask plenty more.”

“Eh, not necessary,” He protested with a flit of his hand, as you began asking him rapid fire questions.

“What year are you?”

A moment, and then a resigned, “I’m in my 3rd year.”

“How old are you?”

“22.”

“Cats or dogs?” 

“Neither, really, but cats if I have to pick.”

“Tea or Coffee?”

“Whatever is available as long as it’s highly caffeinated.” His lopsided smile grew a little with each question, the game of feigning annoyance over. 

“Ah, a true STEM student,” You raised your eyebrows and laughed, leaning against him for a moment before pulling away, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Today, light blue. Tomorrow, who knows.” 

“Do you want to make out?”

-----

Chapter 2

[eddiesghxst]

guys yes yes i am a genius

i don’t know if you’re up to writing a perv!eddie but him and trevor are very very similar.

trevor makes more than sexual remarks, he’s disgusting in an attractive way. eddie does the same thing, he’s a stalker, if he lived in modern times he’d use your panties as a face mask, he will wake you up because your arms are around him and he gets an erection for the tenth time that night i’m not exaggerating

so i want to bring your attention to when you go see eddie play at the hideout one night, you’re starting to see him more romantically than platonically now. you wearing a short jean skirt and a white tank top with no bra that your boobs are very very visible in (my outfit rn) you’re sexy in the way that it makes eddie’s heart stop in his throat and his thighs clench as he plays guitar (shirtless?)

anyway when he meets you backstage, he’s slipping his hands under the skirt, rubbing the undersides of your thighs as you pull him closer with your belt loop. youre wrapping one arm around his neck, the other pressed against a chest tattoo.

you tell him that he has a groupie, leaving a lipstick mark on top of the tattoo

kissing him open mouth so hard and so passionately it makes his head spin (the kind of head spin when you get an orgasm and you can’t think of anything else but how good you feel except you’re literally only kissing him)

every time he punches someone for looking at y’all while you make out, every single time you tell him you can’t stand him when he does it with a small smile

every time he puts his hands in your back pockets, caressing your ass and he kisses your jaw while telling you that you can have anything you want, you can call him any name in the book if you kiss him like that one more time.

🫶 anon

oh i want him so bad jesus christ

18+ — MINORS DNI

————

eddie goes insane for you in every way shape and form, and it only intensifies after his shows. it’s a larger crowd tonight so he’s pumped on adrenaline and nerves, shredding his guitar and singing like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get to do it and you— god, you look so fucking good and it’s egging eddie on in ways he can’t explain.

the skirt you’re wearing is short, clings to your hips and thighs so deliciously eddie can’t wait to sink his teeth into you afterwards. cant wait to slip his hands under and squeeze your plushy skin until you squeal for him. cant wait to push your flimsy good-for-nothing tank top up and suck your tits into his mouth like a starved man.

and you’re just so excited for the band and how good they performed, you hardly pay attention to eddie’s hunger gaze as you walk up to them cheerfully, telling them how good they did and how proud you are.

eddie presses up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, dipping his head into the crevice of your neck and breathing in that intoxicating fucking perfume you always spray that makes him harder than a goddamn rock. he groans and you giggle, tilting your head against his as your hands rest over his large ones, squeezing as you turn in his hold to face him.

you praise him as you pepper kisses all over his face and eddie smiles, says a quick thank you before digging his teeth into his lower lip and letting his hands trail over your ass. you squirm as his hands dip beneath the denim skirt you have on. “where do you think you’re going looking this pretty, princess?” he growls, nipping at your ear as he squeezes the fat of your ass.

and you’re so thankful the lighting in the hideout is shot to shit and eddie has you pushed into a corner because nobody seems to see your boyfriend push up the back of your skirt to fully grasp your ass, thumbs dipping below the black thin string of your thong before he cracks a palm down on your skin. you yelp his name and push at him, “eddie,” you whine, “there’s people here.”

eddie chuckles and pulls down your skirt, “sorry, sweetheart. just can’t help it when it comes to you, you know that.”

and he can’t seem to keep his hands to himself for the rest of the night so you result to sucking him off in the restroom. not the first or last time it’s happened.

————

ALSO, bestie i did my research and i swear trevor and eddie are distant relatives bc omg😭😭😭 the mannerisms are so alike i screamed

[takec0y]

RANGKING ALL MASHLE MERCH DESIGNS FROM WORST TO BEST

All pictures obtained from the @/mashle_goods twt page

1. Lowest teir

Boring outfits, it feels like they didn’t even try to style and personalize these outfits to the characters, it’s already bad enough they used a lot of muted colors 😭 are they even having fun?? They just put on whatever like they’re on the beach cuz its mandatory school trip

Non dynamic poses, what are they even doing yall? They’re just standing there doing whatever, they look like they’re posing for a photo and then told to pose but lance didn’t get the memo

Inconsistent ,if you’re in a lab wear lab coats why does Lemon have an apron?? Girl what this is the science lab not a kitchen and it aint cute to be ill prepared 😭

Meh poses, honestly not much to say about it, i like that they’re doing their own thing but Dot seems to be doing nothing

Lack of theme, why is Dot wearing a full suit? Why is Lemon wearing disgusting denim overalls over a pink sweater?? WHY IS RAYNE WEARING SANDALS WITH A SUIT??? WHERE ARE THEY GOING WHATS GOING ON WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH EATING DESERTS????

Not cohesive, they’re fine on their own but when u put them all together and they look so wacky

If you’re going to promote your T-shirt design actually let me see them holy shit, everyone except for Mash has something covering its design and their wizard robes still covers some of it

2. Mid teir

Okay outfits, the boys have the same T-shirt and shorts but different colors, Lemon has a cute tennis skirt and T-shirt, what i like the most if the emphasis on their shoes, it’s personalized to characters and its nice to see it

Good poses, three of them are actually playing tennis while Mash is just standing there and Lemon is cheering them in w her plushie

There’s nothing to say much about this one, its not bad nor that good, they’re just wearing well styled tho a bit boring going out outfits and being themselves

It’s nice to see Dot finally be wearing a apron with everyone

Very nice suits but not much different from their original school uniforms, I thought they were wearing their old wizard robes on first glance, Lemons hair is super cute

They happily sitting how they like which is fun

This is just super adorable but honestly nothing else

I wish i could find a better picture because i really like the chefs uniform design, the Mash gang and Rayne (why is Rayne here) making cream puffs, especially Mash using a wok to fry them 😭

[trackterror3000]

Another f/f prompt maybe trans girl lando going out shopping w girl carlos or carlos putting on makeup for her

when i first read this my mind went to an established relationship status, but then i thought.... what if.... they're getting together? :oooooo

thank you so much for the prompt anon, i really liked writing this one! hope it lives up to your expectations xx

(by the way, i took the liberty to name them Lana and Carla, and i love them so much.)

prompt: Carla takes Lana shopping!

tags: genderbent!Carlando; trans girl!Lana; cis girl!Carla; getting together.

warnings: none!

disclaimer: english is not my first language. hate comments will be blocked. feedback is highly appreciated!

"You really need some new clothes, sweetheart," Lana heard her friend's most distinguishable accent from across the room. Carla was sat on her futon, occasionally looking up from her crosswords as Lana made her way through her massive closet, picking out stuff to try on.

Carla owned a beautiful collection of evening dresses and summer clothes, yet they all felt too big on Lana's petite figure, because Carla was a muscular woman. She looked up once more as Lana came out in a red slip dress, twirling around in the mirror. It looked loose in places as it had been fitted for Carla's breasts and height, yet Carla supposed her friend couldn't look truly bad in anything.

"Ay, Lana, this color looks amazing on you!" It truly did. It complimented her skin tone really nicely. "You need less papaya stuff, I tell you."

This thing that they had, Carla still wasn't sure what it was. Her teammate would come around her place anytime she desired, and their time together would always be cherished. Their bond only seemed to strengthen after Lana's transition, and Carla didn't want to think too much about whether that had anything to do with herself being gay.

"Lemme take you out. I know just where to find you stuff."

Carla's closet often felt like a safe place while shopping out as a woman still felt a bit overwhelming, though she supposed she would be fine with Carla there. She picked out one of Carla's midi skirts, threw on her white hoodie and sneakers, and off they went.

The first thing Carla made sure they got was an expensive slip dress, very similar to the one she had tried on before, except it had an open back and shorter shoulder straps. While they were at it, she insisted on gifting Lana a beautiful pair of Louboutins, so she could wear them with the dress to their dinner parties and formal events.

Next they moved to the more casual, trendy shops, where Lana tried on a bunch of crop tops as Carla gave her opinions on them outside the dressing room. Carla then brought her a couple of low-rise denim skirts, and while they did look amazing on her Lana called them 'a bit old fashioned'. (Carla was offended and bought them anyways). Lana also had her eyes on a moss green hoodie, an idea that Carla was pleased to shut down.

"What about this one?" she pointed at a soft, baby blue version of the piece. "It brings your eyes out a lot more."

To that, Lana couldn't say no.

It felt oddly heartwarming for Carla to be able to dress her friend up like that, almost as if Lana was her doll come to life. She had to keep reminding herself that Lana was her own person; it was just too tempting to buy her things.

Finally, the duo awkwardly decided they would go in the lingerie store. This time, though, Carla stood at a certain distance so Lana could explore on her own. She even talked to a shop assistant, something she hadn't done the entire evening.

"She told me I could try the tops on, at least. Help me out with it?"

Carla, a bit flustered, followed behind obediently as she made her way to the dressing rooms. Lana wanted to try on a single black bra.

"Could you help me with uhh, with the back?" She called out from inside.

Carla hesitated before gathering her thoughts and excusing herself into the dresser. There stood Lana, hair pulled up with one hand as she met Carla's eyes in the mirror. The bra looked perfect on her chest, its wings still unclasped. Carla realized she was staring a bit too much as Lana spoke coyly, a half-embarrassed, half-playful smile forming on her lips,

"Do you like what you see?"

With that her friend sprung into action, taking both wings and swiftly clasping them in place. But Lana carried on with the teasing before she could even formulate an answer,

"Ooh, you're such a professional!"

"Stop it, Lana!"

At that, Lana quickly spun around, her delicate fingers smoothly finding their way around Carla's hips, rendering her speechless and flustered.

"Should we take this one home?" she blinked her gorgeous blue eyes at the woman.

Or whatever that meant.

"Y-yes cariño, I really think we should."

[ashmp3]

top 5 jeonghan teeth? top 5 things you’re manifesting to find on mojekrpice (or are in the faves waiting to get checked out)? top 5 outfits you would have jeonghan wear if you could style him?

ouh... this is like when that anon asked me to choose favorite jeonghan toe... why pit bad bitches against each other? But i do find teeth topic much more serious so out of his wooden doll herbivore tic tac teeth i gotta say i love them all so i am going to say fav things about them as all as an entity (which they are to me) 1. front chipped tooth (see HERE) 2. the fact we can see both rows of teeth when he smiles (see HERE) 3. the way his whole face becomes so extremely scrunkly when he smiles like a little gremlin (see HERE) 4. the fact he was in a fight and they knocked out his teeth and he had to get braces but he didnt lose the fight. as if that MATTERS at that point krezubava lutkice 5. the way he looks so young and i think his milk teeth are one of the biggest reasons why like thats my choco bunny he cant be 28 kill yourself. anyway to end it all -> one of my all time favorite jeonghan teeth video 🦷🤍 WHAT AN INCREDIBLE QUESTIONNNNN ILYYYY okay i will show you whats in my likes! but first what im manifesting to cop in general is -> black high heel mules & black skort that doesnt look like shorts in the back just like a short skirt all over. thats it i am always very deliberate with my shopping but NOW! moje krpice favorites 1. wrangler denim platforms 2. the kooples silk skirt 3. roberto cavalli mules (Will be mine 🧿🧿🧿) 4. roberto cavalli jeans 5. stella mccartney + adidas shorts (dont know how to style this actually if u have any idea LMK please)

and OKAYY you know i literally made like 10 moodboards of me styling him (CLICK HEREEE i feel like a clickbait newspapers) so i will just put 5 more fits that i didnt already mention (i still stand behind everything i said i literally was insane back then... with a vision though!) and no i couldnt just choose 5 who do i look like... 1. valentino spring couture 2023 - i wouldnt put him in burgundy pants but u love the top so much and i think baby pink looks beautiful on him 2. helmut lang spring 2001 rtw - what.... 3. gucci spring 1997 - what............ 4. roberto cavalli spring 2003 - he would look unreal idgaf like his tiny waist in the corset and then the flowy top with chest shown nothing sounds better to me at this moment 5. except maybe whole stomach out with low waisted pants (fanci club 2024) 6. What....... (samuel cirnansck spring 2012) 7. fendi fall/winter 2023 - i mean love the asymmetrical bare shoulder. easy pick that didnt make the cut last time 8. jenny anderson x lily gatins (distressed sterling silver arrow choker) 9. and last but not least... this is embroidery of serbian dress and okay hear me out i want him in nošnja, idgaf i will defend him if anyone says anything about cultural appropriation like please. i think he would look darling...... 😁❤️

[punsmaster69]

27/OCT/20XX

"Is that... a Christmas display? Already??"

"IT'S NOT EVEN HALLOWEEN YET?!"

"HOW CAN THEY BE THINKING ABOUT CHRISTMAS SO EARLY???"

"you mean you don't wanna buy a reindeer sweater in october?"

"NO!"

we're in new home city clothes shopping today.

(good name.)

it's not a very big city, but there's still more options around than in new snowdin.

(..seems to be a pattern in the naming system.)

frisk tugged papyrus' sleeve and pointed.

"That one looks like it'd have your kind of fashion."

it was a semi-formal style of clothing store, judging by the outfits in the window.

once inside, papyrus immediately made a beeline for the selection of turtleneck sweaters.

"THIS ONE LOOKS IDENTICAL TO THE ONE I NEED TO REPLACE!"

"Why do you need a replacement?"

"I LET UNDYNE BORROW IT ONCE. SHE FORGOT TO GIVE IT BACK, SO IT'S KIND OF JUST.."

"BECOME HERS."

"wasn't that last year?"

"YES. HENCE, THE NEEDING OF ANOTHER ONE."

"Do we all own one of these?"

"THEY'RE CLASSY AND COMFORTABLE; OF COURSE EVERYONE HAS ONE!"

"...EXCEPT FOR SANS."

"Sans, you should get one."

"nah. not really my style."

"I think you'd look good.'

"i'd look like a terrible ceo."

"still no."

"AT LEAST TRY ONE ON?"

......

somehow i keep being roped into having clothes tried on me.

"IT'S ODD SEEING YOU IN ANYTHING OTHER THAN A T-SHIRT. A WELCOME CHANGE!"

"don't get used to it."

frisk quickly snapped a picture.

"..was that photo what you wanted me to wear this for?"

"Maybe."

"You should try the blue one!"

"no."

"i'm taking this off."

"YOU SHOULD BUY IT!"

"EVEN IF YOU DON'T END UP ACTUALLY WEARING IT THAT MUCH."

"A classy shirt is always good to have as a backup."

"EXACTLY!"

my phone buzzed. it was a text from tori.

"You look quite handsome in that sweater! I do hope to see you in it often. ]:)"

"jeez."

"you already sent that around?"

..anyway, i bought it.

——

"Papyrus, is this shirt something you'd wear or nah?"

"I THINK I ALREADY HAVE ONE LIKE THIS."

"...WAIT, DIDN'T I BORROW IT FROM UNDYNE?"

"How often do you share clothes for this to happen?"

"WE'RE THE SAME SIZE!! WOULD BE A SHAME TO NOT MAKE USE OF IT."

"same fashion sense, too."

"YEAH! BESIDES THE SKIRTS."

"UNDYNE DOESN'T LIKE THEM."

"I'm like that with dresses."

"Skirts are way better though."

"Long skirts are REALLY where it's at."

"I AGREE!! HOWEVER 𝙄 AM VERY LONG, SO I MIGHT BE BIASED."

"Thoughts on denim ones?"

"GOOD FOR OUTSIDE WEAR!"

"Pleats?"

"A FLAIR OF CUTENESS OR ELEGANCE DEPENDING ON HOW YOU PAIR IT!"

they went back and forth about skirts while we finished shopping. everything sorta went over my head, to be honest.

we stopped by a fancy restaurant afterwards. i thought it was just ok, but frisk and paps liked it a lot.

been a minute since i've been to a restaurant that wasn't grillby's.

.....

grillbs definitely makes a better burger, though.

[mmufanatic]

MMU Clothes Headcanons

Daisy

- Often wears leggings under skirts because she climbs stuff a lot.

-Likes Dr Martens

-Has a favourite denim jacket that's absolutely covered in badges.

- Always wears night dresses , hates pyjamas.

- Prefers skirts or dresses to trousers

- Sticks random things into her hair- flowers, sparkly pipe cleaners through her plaits, pretty tissue paper...

- Likes hair clips.

- Likes jewellery ( wears SO MUCH jewellery) and makeup (also helps her to fit in ).

Hazel

- Wears hair pins or clips a lot.

- Prefers jeans but wears skirts sometimes.

- Doesn't wear makeup because of the texture.

- Has a mac that she thinks looks really grown up and loves it.

- Has a pair of heeled boots but everyone teases her because she's still shorter.

- Doesn't wear jewellery (except for bracelets made by Beanie of course)

- Prefers dark colours but will wear bright colours occasionally.

Kitty

- Wears skirts, leggings or jeans, no preference.

- Likes shiny or sparkly hair clips.

- Loves jewellery ( Beanie makes her a lot of bracelets).

- Especially loves earrings, has her ears pierced.

- Loves makeup.

- Often wears pastel colours.

- Likes ballet flats except if it comes off her foot George or Lavinia will kick it so she has to hop to get it ( Beanie goes and gets it anyway).

Beanie

- Doesn't wear makeup ( Kitty tried to do it for her once and it didn't end well).

- Wears stuff with cute animals on it.

- Prefers skirts but likes leggings with oversized jumpers.

- Loves anything woolly or fluffy.

- Has a pair of boots that are fluffy on the inside and LOVES them.

- Wears a lot of bracelets because she loves making them.

- Her and Kitty sometimes add bits onto plain hair clips like paper flowers, so she wears them too.

- Wears dungarees.

- Definitely has a fluffy onesie.

Lavinia

- Wears Dr Martens

- Likes dark colours.

- HATES skirts and dresses.

- Wears cargo pants.

- Doesn't wear jewellery, except for a friendship bracelet that Beanie made for her.

- Has a lot of band t-shirts.

- No one is allowed to borrow her stuff. No one.

- Doesn't have that many clothes. George and Kitty have made it their mission to get her to go clothes shopping with them.

Amina

- Wears a lot of hoodies.

- Likes skirts and dresses.

- Wears leggings and fluffy boots a lot.

- Always wearing sandals or flip flops in the summer.

- Likes earrings but otherwise doesn't really wear jewellery.

- Has a pair of heels that Daisy keeps stealing.

- Only lets Daisy borrow her hoodies.

- She regrets this afterwards because Daisy will inevitably get ink on it or something.

- Daisy will desperately try to get the stain off before she gives it back ( while Hazel laughs at her) but Amina will always notice.

Alexander

- Wears jumpers and hoodies all the time but the sleeves are always too short.

- Daisy thinks that this is hilarious.

- Has too many beanie hats because he makes another one if he gets bored ( his gran taught him to knit and crochet).

- He makes a lot of them for Beanie purely because it's called a beanie and she thinks it's really funny.

- Has a lot of pyjamas with cute animals on or patterned- George makes fun of him for this.

- Has a lot of stuff knitted for him from his gran.

George

- His wardrobe is VERY full.

- His dad and Harold keep trying to persuade him to have a clear out but he never does.

- Often doesn't wear what's suitable for the weather ( wears a thin jacket in December).

- Makes impulsive fashion choices that he regrets later ( Daisy has a lot of pictures).

- Has a lot of stuff knitted for him by Alexander.

- Wears bracelets from Beanie.

- Let Daisy paint his nails once and is now trying to get up the courage to ask to borrow her eyeliner.

[theclassclone]

We Cut Down Trees, We Don't Take Fake Olive Branches

Chapter 4

Word Count: 7,275 TW: Canon-typical Master List || Previous || Next

“Previously on a very special Clone High: Abe made a FlipFlop apology video that totally flopped! That’s it, really. Seriously. Just read the next chapter already!” Abe snapped at his imaginary audience. “I’m sorry, that was mean. What I meant to say what—wait, no, this is stupid, just read the next chapter already!”

“Stop talking in third person and stop doing this in the parking lot.”

CJ glared at Frida and Harriet as they approached her; they had surely taken their sweet time getting to their predetermined student body council meeting classroom, even if the meeting consisted of just the three of them. CJ had requested this meeting as soon as she and Scudworth (See also: Mr. B) solved their little housefire situation due to the FlipFlop Live video posted by Abe—but of course, they postponed it by a day. Abe was supposed to be in charge of the Luncheon which was supposed to be held tomorrow. CJ had heard nothing on the progress of the Luncheon, she had no idea who was catering, if the drinks were from the same location, if they had any chairs and tables, and if it was an all-day affair or not, or if Abe had planned any additional activities to overcompensate for something and impress everyone.

Frida waved at CJ, a lopsided grin was plastered across her face, and she held her skateboard under her arm. Today, she was dressed slightly different than she usually would be—Frida was known for being a cross between a mall goth and a skater-girl (hence the brightly colored mall goth clothing—typically hot pink and something lime green and yellow, a staple in her style—dual patterned pants, chunky jewelry that was likely made of plastic, and chunky skater sneakers as her daily outfit). Today, she muted her usual bright tones; her jeans were baggy and more of a green-tone denim—the type of green on a pair of jeans after rolling around in the grass—moss green might be more accurate and they were whiter where they were ripped, her cropped undershirt was a dusty pink, and her flannel was surprisingly still lime green.

“Miss Vice-Prez.” Frida greeted jovially.

CJ threw her school bag onto the cluster of desks in front of her, disturbing the textbooks and other school supplies that were likely needed for this homeroom class. She pressed her hands against the desks on either side of her school bag and leaned forward; she continued to silently stare at Frida and Harriet, doing nothing more than studying them like they were bugs.

Harriet held her school bag in front of her, creasing her skirt—which was something she didn’t typically wear, but she might have made the exception for today because it was still Unity Week, and they still had themed days going on. Harriet was known for swinging toward light academia in yellows, greens, and tans, or wearing clothing items that were considered light academia but in colors that matched Frida’s brightly colored clothing. However, today, she threw on a pale-yellow flannel, matched her sweater vest to one of the tartan patterns, and donned a matching skirt (in the same shape that cheerleaders would wear, but a bit longer). She lifted her school bag and went to place it on the table.

“Don’t get comfortable, knowing you both, this will be brief.” CJ said shockingly flat. She even surprised herself because she never fails to fluctuate her voice like Scudworth.

“So, what’s this about then?” Harriet asked.

“You know, we didn’t have a chance to catch up after Lincoln’s little video. How is the Luncheon coming?” She pulled her hands off of the desk and rubbed her palms together, trying to remove the feeling of the unclean desk from her hands.

Frida and Harriet glanced at each other and shared a look that CJ couldn’t quite make out. They looked back at CJ; she understood a little more clearly now that she could see their faces.

“I see.” She pursed her lips.

“Nah, nah. Girl, we’ve got so much done. So much.” Frida set her skateboard down and leaned it against the chair. “There’s food, drinks, seats, and tables.” She lied through her teeth.

“Where’s the food from? The drinks? How much was it? Where did the tables come from? The chairs?” She drilled Frida.

“Uh—.”

“Okay, so we don’t have anything.” Harriet clapped her hands together and pointed her fingertips at CJ. “But we can plan the entire thing before tomorrow.” She grinned from ear to ear.

CJ laughed shortly. “That’s rich, I didn’t take you for a comedian, Tubman.” She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to her right side. As if on cue, as she opened her mouth for her next rant, she began to sound erratic, much like their principal. “I don’t care what ‘of Arc thinks about her best friend, I don’t care that you want to appease her, nor do I care that you think I say ‘no’ too often or shoot down every idea. The entire point of the student body council is to learn about politics, and this is how politics work! Further, I don’t give as much of a fuck about your little Unity Day thingamabob as you think I do. This is no longer about running your events smoothly; this is about getting them over with.” She looked away from Frida and Harriet and stared at the whiteboard. “I’m the last person to take this shit serious compared to Tubman, but here we are.”

“Um, what’s that supposed to mean?” Harriet crossed her arms and leaned forward.

CJ smirked and looked back at Harriet. “If memory serves, you’re the stupid jackass who wants to make a name for herself. You’re obsessed with the idea of fame and fortune, and yet, here you are, blowing it. Not accomplishing anything.” She shrugged her shoulders, raised her eyebrows, and shook her head ever so slightly. She glanced at Harriet with widened eyes, more sclera than iris and pupil.

“I—uh—I.”

“So, let’s put it this way: Unity Week is falling apart. You’re making poor decisions. Blah, blah, blah. You’re putting yourself in jeopardy or whatever.” She pulled her left hand out from her crossed arm position and rotated her wrist to further emphasis her point.

“Hey, hey, hey. Take it easy, you’re starting to sound a lot like a bully.” Frida spoke up, trying to ease the growing tension between CJ and Harriet. “Relax, girl, we can turn this whole shindig around.”

Harriet nodded and glanced down at Frida, nervously biting her nails. “Of course, we can! We just have to put an entire Luncheon together tonight. For tomorrow.” She grew nervous; she chuckled, grinning, not even so much as removing her eyes from her shorter friend.

CJ raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips.

“Look, look, look.” Frida spoke again. “If we don’t hear anything from Joan today about the Luncheon, I know you know some places that would be willin’ to help us out.”

“Puh—right, like I’m going to help out now.”

“Well, yeah, girl, you’re my Vice-Prez.” Frida said.

CJ walked around the table and approached Frida; she loomed over the shorter clone and stared down at her. “That’s hilarious. I didn’t think the student council was filled with comedians. Both of you should go do standup comedy.”

“I’m not following.”

CJ leaned forward; the tip of her nose was about an inch away from Frida’s. “I will not be helping you. You’ve given me no reason to help you. Let ‘of Arc do all the footwork if Lincoln doesn’t miraculously pull through or already have anything that he didn’t inform you of.” She slowly rose to fix her posture and stared down her nose at Frida again. She turned on her heel and walked back around the table; she, against her own sensory issues toward the desks, dragged her fingers across the desk. “And do me a favor, since I haven’t had the luxury to speak to Lincoln myself, I would love to have a little chat with him if you assholes could manage to arrange that for me. He seems fun, considering.” She faced Frida and Harriet again; she reached forward and curled her fingers around her school bag and dragged it toward her again.

Frida and Harriet turned to look at each other with the same vaguely unidentifiable expression as before. They slowly turned their heads to look at CJ again; their eyebrows were drawn together, and they both forced smiles.

“We’ll let you know.” Frida said.

“How disappointing.” CJ grimaced. She lifted her school bag and walked back around the table. She briskly walked past Frida and Harriet. “I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Hey, CJ, sit next to me!” JFK waved his hand over his head.

CJ looked around the cafeteria, avoiding the ‘popular’ table—rather the side of the cafeteria in which the student body council, ‘popular students’, and committee members sat. She contemplated joining Vincent and his friends again as she had more to discuss with George, she had a brilliant new idea in regard to her portal and she would like to get his opinion on it because he expressed interest in her experiment—obviously, they had spent an entire day mulling over ideas and coming up with nothing.

“CJ! CJ! Over here!” JFK continued to call out to her with his interesting New England accent.

CJ narrowed her eyes at Joan’s boyfriend; she glanced to the side and huffed. She did kind of need to venture over to that side of the cafeteria anyway because she needed to have a conversation with Frida and Harriet about the Luncheon that she felt was destined to fail. But sitting with only JFK did not seem like a good time or a good idea because he had a girlfriend—CJ has watched all of the teenage coming-of-age movies, she knows how typical girls act. Other than her worries of typical girls, he was loud and brutish (and he looked like a hipster with his khaki-colored pants and flannel replacing his typical red polo and boy, did CJ hate hipsters about as much as she hated lumberjacks). She inhaled deeply and walked toward her student council table through the sea of first- and second-generation students.

She, for the life of her, could not understand why this school was not run better with the introduction of Candide Sampson. Was this random woman not supposed to oversee her father and his work as a principal? She was assigned to be a superintendent (a government assigned superintendent, by the way) because Scudworth had repeatedly failed to prepare his students for something that CJ couldn’t quite put her finger on. She seemed, at least from the one conversation CJ had with the woman, to have half a brain, and to think that she’d at least change the school schedule so that the cafeteria was not so crowded. But that might have just been wishful thinking on CJ’s part (according to Mr. B, Scudworth and Candide conjured up some cockamamie scheme to drug, at least Joan, at the sleepover in order to get her to spill her deepest darkest secret but the entire operation went sideways before they even arrived at Harriet’s house).

“I saved you a seat next to me today. Uh, no one else is here yet.” JFK pulled the chair on his right out for CJ. “You always, uh, sit alone on the other side of the table.”

“Right. You know Harriet typically sits there, right?” CJ asked.

“Uh-huh, but I, er uh, saved you this seat today. And Joanie’s going to sit next to me over here,” he motioned to his left. “We’re mixing it up today.”

CJ stared at JFK from the other side of the table; she blinked at him and tucked her chin to chest. She stood there, trying to understand the words that came out of his mouth. Things were the way they were for a reason, there’s not ‘mixing it up’. He stared back at her, trying his hardest to make eye contact with her—CJ was an expert at feigning eye contact. But faking eye contact with JFK was actually a little easier because, again, this is the clone of JFK, has anyone actually see what JFK looked like? His eyes weren’t even centered.

“The dames running Unity Week seem to think you’re, uh, very mean.” He broke the silence.

CJ hummed. “And I heard you’ve shoved the entire freshman class into 10 lockers.”

JFK grinned. “I did!” He motioned to the chair to his right again.

CJ sighed. “Persistent.” She walked around the lunch table and took the chair next to JFK.

She slid her takeout across the table and started pulling a few of the items out of the plastic takeout bag—JFK glanced over at her food several times while she was unpacking her Lo Mein, cold sesame noodles, sweet and sour chicken, and Crab Rangoon’s. CJ did this often (or she made her lunch at home, it just depended on how lazy she was in the morning really). The captain of the football team leaned against her shoulder, more interested in her lunch than the lunch he got from the school.

“Hey, er uh, whatcha got there?” He asked.

“Edible food.” She said, she raised her shoulder and pushed him back into his own seat. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your saliva over there. I’d like to be able to enjoy my food.”

He pouted and grabbed the edges of his chair and bounced it closer to CJ’s chair. “It looks so much better.”

CJ rotated her left arm inward toward the right side of her body. She glowered at JFK; since his arrival at Clone High, he hasn’t bothered her much, mostly because he’s been preoccupied with his alt-dressing girlfriend, but today bothering CJ seemed to be his goal (well, not the entire day, just in the moment). He was very interested in the lunch she had bought herself from a block over and she couldn’t blame him because she knew it was much better than the gunk that Clone High fed its students. She closed her eyes and wrinkled her nose. The corners of her lips were pulled downward, and she scoffed.

“Wouldya share?” He asked. “I’ll pay you back.”

“You bought yourself lunch, eat it.” She opened her eyes and glanced at him.

“But I want what you have.” He whined.

“No.” She huffed.

“Please?” He pouted.

She inhaled deeply and looked at him through her uncurled eyelashes. “If you back away from my personal space—I don’t need you touching me.”

JFK gripped the lips of the chair and bounced away from her. He watched her intently, most likely wondering what she was going to share with him. He slowly pushed his tray of school slop toward the other side of the table. She popped open the container of sweet and sour chicken and placed it between herself and JFK, she kept peeled the lid off of her cold sesame noodles and kept that container in front of her (there was no way in hell she was sharing that), she picked up the container of lo mien shoved it into JFK’s hands, and she placed the Crab Rangoon’s against the container of sweet and sour chicken—regardless of her unwilling kindness toward JFK, she was going to have leftovers because she still had a few food items hiding in the plastic takeout bag. JFK reached back across the table and grabbed the package of plastic utensils and ripped it open just so he could use the fork for the Lo Mein noodles. CJ, on the other hand, was pretty content with using the chopsticks that came with her takeout.

Frida approached the table, shockingly without Harriet. “C-dog, what’s going on here?”

“A picnic.” She deadpanned. “What’s it look like to you?”

“She has Chinese food.” JFK spoke with his mouth full; he pointed at CJ with his fork. “It’s really good.”

“That’s weird.” Frida pushed JFK’s tray of school lunch out of the way and placed her own school lunch tray down on the table. She pulled the chair out from beneath the table and sat down. “What’ll Joan think?” She asked.

“Given that I don’t care for any of you, hopefully she won’t want any either. I’m already angry.” CJ shoveled her noodles into her mouth.

“Joanie is so understanding! I’m so understanding—her best friend is Lincoln, I wouldn’t, uh, be jealous of her hangin’ out with that guy, even if he is making eyes at Joanie all the time.” JFK said, he looked over at CJ. “Do you have any, uh, sauce for this chicken?” He pointed at the container of chicken.

“Oh, yeah, they always give me,” she shoved her hand into the plastic bag and pulled out a few packets of a yellow-colored sauce, “this. But I might actually be allergic to it. It’s the Duck sauce, take it.”

“I’ll, uh, definitely take it.” He held his fork between his teeth and grabbed off of the Duck sauce packets from her hand. “Fank you.”

“Uh huh.”

Frida raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly at the revelation of JFK’s potential feelings. “Are you jealous of Joan and Abe’s friendship?”

“No! No,” JFK defended himself, spraying his food as he spoke. “I’m not jealous of Lincoln. He’s a nerd! Joanie wouldn’t like a guy like him, right?” He glanced between Frida and CJ. “Right?”

CJ stared at her food, her eyes bounced between her noodles, the bag of Rangoon’s and the plastic littered around her area. “Erm… Decline to answer?” She knitted her eyebrows together and lifted her head just enough to offer JFK an unknowing expression. “I don’t have enough information to provide a decent hypothesis.”

“Uhm, of course not, man.” Frida coughed.

CJ put her head down again but shifted her eyes toward JFK. “I’ll agree with Kahlo this one time.” She snaked her arm up to the container of sweet and sour chicken and slowly drew on near her mouth. “Even if I’d like to disagree with that assessment based on the little information that I do know.” She mumbled into the chicken before pushing it into her mouth.

“Girl—.” Frida hissed.

“Wad?” She covered her mouth with her hand. “I didn’ say anyfing.”

Harriet and Joan approached the lunch table, arm-in-arm, giggling about something that was probably nonsensical to CJ. Harriet noticed the odd seating arrangement and pointed one of her painted nails at the table and whispered something to Joan; Joan narrowed her eyes at CJ as they walked up behind Frida. Harriet slipped her arm out of Joan’s and placed her hands on Frida’s shoulders; her lunch bag slipped down from the crook of her elbow and thumped against Frida’s back. Joan set her lunch tray down next to Frida’s and shifted her gaze between CJ and JFK with a complete lack of approval.

“What’s this?” She asked innocently.

“I made a, uh, new friend, Joanie! She gave me Chinese food!” He raised his voice and raised his container of Lo Mein noodles for Joan to see what he had yet to finish.

CJ silently slurped her noodles without so much as looking up and Joan, looking over at JFK, or glancing at Frida and Harriet. She slowly shook her head at JFK’s pitchy explanation. She narrowed her eyes at the uncomfortable sound of Joan slowly dragging the chair from beneath the lunch table; the metal legs scrapped against the vinyl tiles. She sat down next to Frida and watched CJ and JFK while pushing her mushy, inedible school lunch around.

“You’re sharing lunch?” She asked. “That’s sweet.” She spoke through gritted teeth. She rolled he sleeves of her flannel up to her elbows; she barely looked any different, it was actually kind of interesting. She still wore her typical black top under a dark green flannel. The only real difference was that she might have been wearing boyfriend jeans and a beanie. How grunge of her.

CJ hummed. “He was getting in my personal space, and I was getting uncomfortable. To appease the football Gods, I fed him, and he moved back over into what he decided was your space.” She looked up and over at Joan; she pushed her thin metal glasses up the bridge of her nose with her knuckle. “You really need to have a conversation with him about how to treat other girls.”

“O-Oh.” Joan was taken aback by CJ’s comment—more offended than anything. “Well, he’s JFK. That’s just what he’s like. When we went to prom in 2003, there were multiple other girls in the limo with us. And before that—you get the idea, right?”

CJ bobbed her head. “Well, you’re talking about a clone of a political figure who celebri-tized presidency—many celebrities and political figures alike have been found to have affairs. It gets them in trouble, cancelled in our woke-culture bullshit, and all that jazz. Sometimes they can get away with it though.” She bit into a sweet and sour chicken. “Like JFK.”

“He was a womanizer, right?” JFK asked.

CJ looked at JFK with a stale expression. “He was, but he was a very influential individual.”

“Oaw.”

Harriet cleared her throat. “So, Joan, how’s the Luncheon coming?”

“Oh, uhm, I haven’t heard from Abe since his apology video.” Joan shifted uncomfortably in her chair and rubbed the back of her neck.

“That video was totally not cool.” Frida leaned away from Joan and looked at her. “It’s a bad look for our committee, and I don’t wanna be the one to have to say it.”

Joan pushed her lunch tray forward and set her elbows on the table; she pressed the balms of her hands against her eyes and shook her head. “I know, I know.” She groaned. “He can come back from this, can’t he?” She peaked between her hands and glanced between JFK and CJ.

“Not at all.” CJ deadpanned.

Abe barged through the heavy cafeteria doors. “JOAN! JOAN!” He hollered. The doors slammed shut behind him with an echoing click. “JOAN! I’m so sorry! Joan, please forgive me!”

Frida looked away from Joan with her chin in her hand and her teeth digging into her bottom lip. She shook her head almost embarrassed for herself. Harriet glanced over at the door to the cafeteria and watched Abe as he neared the VIP section with the student body council and the ‘popular’ crowd. Abe stopped walking as he reached the barbed wire, he dared not to get any closer as barbed wire hurt. He kept his eyes on Joan, longingly, yearning for her attention, and maybe something more. His light-colored eyes darted around his goth friends form, searching for a response, whether she responded in words or in some kind of bodily gesture.

“I’ll make this up to you! I will! I swear that I will!” He walked toward the entrance of the VIP section of the cafeteria but was blocked by the bouncer that JFK has recently hired. He leaned on the rope. “Joan, please! Joan, look at me! Say something to me, Joan!”

CJ watched Abe desperately try to reach out to Joan, who had turned away from him and kept her back toward him. He moved toward the velvet rope of their section of the cafeteria and wrapped his hands around it and pulled it up toward his chest. He stared at each of the members at the student body council table—JFK, CJ, Frida, Harriet, and Joan—waiting for someone to say something to him or even so much as to look at him and do something. Frida and Joan continued to ignore his gaze. CJ watched Abe, not making eye contact whatsoever, but still waiting for his next move. JFK watched Abe with a set of eyes that told the tale of former friends.

Frida inhaled deeply and turned 180 degrees in her chair. She faced Joan and looked past her. “Yo, Abe, what do you have planned for the Luncheon?”

“I, uh, I never started.” Abe lowered his voice with every word that fell out of his mouth.

Joan ran her fingers through her carmine hair and pulled the beanie off of her head; she lowered her head. “God, Abe, I trusted you.” She muttered. She shook her head. “I trusted him.” She muttered to the rest of the table.

“Wait, wait, wait! Let me make this up to you! Joan, please! Joan, let me fix this. Let me try to plan this Luncheon. I’ll do anything!” Abe begged.

Frida inhaled deeply and shook her head. “Not gonna happen, Abraham. You… have… been canceled.”

Second-generation clones gasped at the change in Abe’s status per Frida Kahlo. Many second-generation clones dropped their empty trays and trays full of food, water bottles, plastic bottles, lunch boxes from home, and whatever else might have been in their hands—metal clattered against the vinyl flooring, bottles bounced, and cellphones slapped against the floor with no give. First-generation students stopped what they were doing and looked up from their conversations and their food to watch what was going on, some had gone as far as to gasp along with the second-generation clones and pretend like they knew what was going on. A group of second-generation clones approached Abe ritualistically, they circled him and grabbed at him. He struggled in their grasp but was unable to hold his own against so many pairs of hands. One student had ripped most of his shirt off, turning his shirt into a micro-cropped t-shirt (or, what might be considered a bolero top). Another student had drawn a giant red ‘C’ on his hairless chest in a thick chisel tipped marker. The majority of the group then whisked Abe away from the outside ‘popular’ section of the cafeteria and forced him into the section labeled ‘canceled’. Joan stayed in her seat; she watched her friend get dragged away from her from over her shoulder. She didn’t stand nor did she offer to help him.

CJ lightly cleared her throat and looked down at the rest of the Chinese food that she was still sharing with JFK. She pushed her noodles around with her chopsticks. She swallowed hard—while she wasn’t in Joan’s shoes, she could understand things from her point of view only if Joan were upset and didn’t help Abe. But CJ was unsure if Joan was feeling any remorse or if she was upset about this new Abe situation. CJ tapped her chopsticks against the bottom of her noodle container. Abe’s reaction—current reaction as he was throwing a tantrum about Joan’s lack of support—reminded her of someone she knew but was no longer friends with. She wondered something…

CJ leaned back against the principal’s chair and kicked her feet up onto his desk, shifting his paperwork beneath her heel. She mindlessly scrolled through her phone—as most of her generation did, looking at all of the social media influencers, celebrities, and peers posting questionable status updates on ‘real’ social media sites, sharing news of death and destruction in other parts of the world, and sharing selfies and other picture types of themselves that are doctored up and only showed the best sides of themselves (fake personalities and good angles) that make people feel bad about themselves. The corners of her lips were drawn together, not fully a pucker; she tightened her jaw and kept flicking through what felt like the same social media post over, and over, and over again because that’s all anyone ever posted anymore. Even Confucius was getting too… similar to everyone else, it made it hard to stay neutral with him. Even Sacagawea. They were beginning to teach Cleo, JFK, Cathrine, Julius, so on and so forth…

CJ wasn’t one to admit that she was one of those people who felt down on themselves after seeing all those glamorous social media posts—why else would she still look at them? She knew better. She pressed the back of her head into the chair and stretched her arm forward. She dropped the top half of her phone onto the desk and pushed it further onto the desk with the tips of her fingers; she lifted her shoulder off of the chair to be able to reach to complete this very daunting task. She slumped back in the chair and crossed her arms. She rolled her head toward her right shoulder and stared at the stupid picture frame on her clonefather’s desk—of course this narcissist would have a professional photograph of himself on his desk. Jackass. Ahem. She actually would be the first to admit that she felt down on herself after seeing some of her peers in real life. She firmly believes in the idea of objective beauty and subjective beauty—subjective beauty is what she sees on social media, the things that make most everyone feel bad about themselves because the people behind the account make themselves appear pore-less and flawless. Objective beauty is a different type of social construct—something, something psychology, something, something study where they merged male faces together and female faces together and got a very average looking male and female which would be considered objective beauty.

CJ pulled her back away from the comfort of the back of the chair and leaned toward the desk. With the tips of her fingers—again—she poked at and tried to grasp at the top edge of the picture frame. She knocked it toward her and left it lying face down. She slowly sat back against the desk chair and exhaled slowly. She was a genius, smarter than Scudworth at least, and better than him at most everything, she shouldn’t be worrying about something as vain as the way she looks. Even if she is his clone. And she looks just like him. And she’ll probably just die sad and alone because she looks just like the wicked witch from The Wizard of Oz except, she’s not green (consider that a positive). She’s got this obviously long, hooked nose that makes her appear more bird-like. She’s not entirely sure why she ended up paper-white (it might have to do with the fact that she doesn’t go outside), but it makes her look ill compared to her peers and her clonefather. Her face is so long and narrow, not in a heart-shape or triangle shape, more of an animated villain way, which doesn’t make the witch nose any better. Her eyes always look so droopy and sad and for some reason she has darker bottom lashes (it weirds her out, she tries to offset it with mascara and eyeliner, but she’s not good at makeup, she’s heavy handed in that respect and she usually looks like the next My Chemical Romance album cover until she cleans her face and gives up). In speaking of her eyes, while she’s on this thought, the color only bothers her because quite a few people have been bothered by it before—she has such light green eyes that they almost look grey around the pupil and the iris is locked in with a very, very, very thin emerald ring. Even her own clonefather thought she was blind, and he had no idea why her eyes are so light when he has real green eyes.

She rested her right elbow on the arm rest of the chair and held her forehead in the space between her index finger and her thumb. And don’t get her started on having no choice but to inherit his rectangular body type (she might be a genius, but she’s not well-rounded enough to figure out that there are different types of clothing for each body type); she constantly feels boxy and masculine to the point it feels weird. An indescribable weird. Just weird. Weird. She’s still him. She’s not—she doesn’t feel right, but she doesn’t know how to explain it, and no one would understand. No one would get it. She’s a clone of a man, she still looks like said man just with boobs, it makes her feel weird. That’s stupid. That explains nothing. It’s a frustrating sort of feeling. She doesn’t want to be a man, especially not one like Scudworth himself, but she doesn’t feel right as herself. At least not knowing that she’s literally a clone of a man. It’s fucked up.

She pulled her feet off of the principal’s desk and slammed her platforms against the ground. She rolled herself closer to the desk and slid her legs under it. She grabbed something that looked important—and it probably was, but knowing Scudworth, it probably wasn’t going to be done anyway. She reached across his desk and rummaged through his desktop organizer in search of a permanent marker or a whiteboard marker. She pulled a black whiteboard marker out of the organizer and popped the cap off; she looked at the fray tip and drew her lips back. He was notorious for ruining markers… but so was she. She scribbled on the document just as the door to the office swung open. She looked up from the desk and leaned back in the chair with the marker still in her dominant hand.

“I should give you detention for smoking in the hallway.” She watched him stumble into his office.

“Glad to see your humor is intact.” He blinked; he hobbled through his office, brushing the debris off of the front of his white lab coat. “I don’t understand women these days.”

“You sound disappointed.” CJ deadpanned.

Scudworth patted the top of his head and huffed. “Well, of course, I’m disappointed. I wasn’t trying to make Candide fall in love with me!”

CJ narrowed her eyes. “What gave you the idea that she did?”

“Well, I went into the principal’s bathroom to replace her candles with dynamite, but she had already done that. It’s… it’s so romantic.” He threw his arms out to either side, completely exasperated. “Oh, you just had to see it.” He clasped his hands together and pressed the back of his hand against his cheek and sighed, suddenly longing for the blonde who actually hated him.

Mr. B slowly looked up at him. “That wasn’t romantic at all.”

“Yes, yes, but you’re not a girl. You wouldn’t understand. She would be able to confirm that Candide is obviously into me.” Scudworth’s false reality of Candide’s interest in him was momentarily shattered by Mr. B speaking. He motioned to CJ, pulling her into the reality that he fabricated, trying to get her to be biased and go against the honest truth.

CJ was taken aback by the phrasing. “I—hold on.” She leaned back in the chair and lifted her right leg, resting her ankle just above her knee. She placed both of her elbows on either armrest and fiddled with the whiteboard marker. “I don’t think I’m understanding what you just said to use based on the structure of your bullshit. Come again?”

Scudworth pointed at CJ. “You’re a girl—.”

“Well, at least someone here still understands that.”

“How do you mean?” Mr. B asked.

“That weird Nostradamus freak asked me if I was supposed to be some kind of female-to-male transgender that hasn’t received his hormones yet.” The corners of her mouth tried to form an amused grin. “It was really funny. When I said no, he asked if I was non-binary. When I said no to that, he was confused on what my gender is.”

“You didn’t let me finish!” Scudworth whined like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

Mr. B looked at CJ with his eyebrows drawn together. “Nostradamus knows what non-binary means?”

CJ shrugged her shoulders. “Well, as far as I know, homosexuality used to be in the good ol’ DSM, so I wouldn’t put it past these first-generation clones to be well versed in their DSM-III LGBTQ community.”

“Do you ever listen to yourselves? You’re very annoying, especially when you’ve gone and interrupted the conversation that I was having!” Scudworth raised his voice to recapture the attention of CJ and Mr. B. “I need you to tell me whether or not Candide is interested in me!” He spoke directly to CJ.

“Oh-ho, definitely not.” CJ stifled her laughter.

“Why not?”

“Because that’s my answer. You asked me, and I told you. You also asked me because I’m probably the only girl you can ask, therefore, that’s still my answer.” CJ explained herself.

Scudworth grumbled a series of profanities to himself and marched around his desk. He pulled the chair from beneath the desk and ushered CJ out of his desk chair. “Out, out, out. Go. Don’t you have class?”

CJ reluctantly got out of the chair and picked her bag up from the side of the desk. “Yuh but dicking around is…” she glanced away from Scudworth and Mr. B, “better.” She stuck her arm in her school bag and sifted through it. “Education is not for intelligent individuals; it’s all about repetition and memorization. Hold this for me.” She pulled a very round and cartoonishly polished bomb about the size of her hand out of her bag; she held it out for Scudworth.

“What’s this?”

She blinked. “To be fair, it’s for you, but Candide beat me to it. Still, hold it.” She repeated the phrase. She dropped the bomb into his hands and shoved her hand back into her bag and started digging around again; she pushed loose pencils, pens, markers, and paper scraps around in the bottom of her bag. She wiggled her arm around her folders and notebooks. “Eugh, I think I left my lighter at home, I should have just spent more for the timer.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Why would you buy these?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “It looks like it came right out of a cartoon, I thought it was funny.”

“Why would you hand him a bomb in front of me?” Mr. B asked her softly.

CJ pulled her arm out of her bag and pulled the zipper closed. “Because that’s also funny.” She told him flatly. “It won’t do much unless someone lights it. And you banned me from borrowing lighters on school grounds, to which, Scudworth actually listens to that one thing!”

“That’s a good thing.” Mr. B told her.

Scudworth set the cartoonish bomb down on his desk and ignored that it rolled away from him. “I see you’ve been making a mess—.” He lifted his picture frame with both hands and adjusted it. “And don’t get me started on the message you left for me on my paperwork!”

“You weren’t going to do it anyway.” CJ and Mr. B spoke in unison; CJ was more animated like Scudworth than Mr. B.

“Owh…”

CJ slung her bag over her shoulder and slouched. She yawned and blinked slowly trying to refocus her eyes.

“Is that how you left the house the morning?” Scudworth asked.

“Eh?” She shook her head and looked down at what she was wearing. “I would hope so. It would be rather strange if my outfit changed when I arrived at school, the very place in which you work, where I know I would unfortunately still see you. Might as well disappoint you before I leave the house.”

“Mister B, give her a dress code violation!” He peered around his clonedaughter at his longtime friend. “Just look at this—flannel,” he pointed at her flannel with his pen. “Disgusting. Ripped tights,” he poked her exposed knee with the end of the pen. “You paid extra for those, didn’t you? You children and your ripped clothing! It’s outrageous! Back in my day, we ripped our clothes on purpose—or on accident!” He threw his hands above his head, accidentally throwing the pen behind him. “You look like a tree hugger!”

“Puh—a tree hugger?” She raised an eyebrow and crinkled just half of her face.

She looked down at her outfit again—rather than looking just like Scudworth, like she tends to do, she wore a pink flannel over a boxy, black t-shirt, in which was tucked into a pair of black, raw hemmed shorts that were actually covered by the length of the flannel, and beneath the shorts were the tights that Scudworth had complained about with all the rips and tears (they were thin tights and she had gotten her nails caught on them on more than one occasion and had torn the thin nylon on each occasion and just never got a new pair because they looked gnarly), she had platform boots, and a myriad of accessories that were considered ‘grunge’. She spent most of the night researching inspiration for this outfit for the Unity Week flannel activity to avoid looking like a lumberjack.

“I’d have an axe if I were a lumberjack.” She crossed her arms. “I think I look great, regardless of the fact that you think I look like a lumberjack; I don’t know what your problem is. And, and I really nailed this jewelry thing, I think. All of my earrings are the same metal for the first time.”

Mr. B glanced up at CJ and spoke to her in a voice low enough to pass beneath Scudworth’s radar. “Just be careful of those boys.”

CJ drew the corners of her lips back and glanced down at Mr. B. She smacked the back of the robot’s head. “That’s sexist. Girls like legs too, Mister B!” She paused for a moment. She leaned toward Mr. B and muttered to him, hoping that she spoke low enough to sound warbled to Scudworth (or for him to be unable to hear her). “Maybe not these legs, eugh, anything that looks like him,” she pointed at Scudworth with her thumb, “is an automatic turn-off for people. I mean, yeesh, even you keep denying feelings for Scudworth; I’m his clone, you think someone will look at me and like it? Hah!” She stood up straight again and sauntered away from Mr. B and Scudworth.

Mr. B rolled his eyes at her comment.

“Once these Unity Week events are over, I expect you to wear appropriate clothing again. What you used to wear.” Scudworth’s voice bounced off of his desk as he shuffled his paperwork around. “It was plain—simple.”

“Get progressively more outrageous like every other adolescent ever, got it.” She approached the door and pressed her hand against the doorknob. She turned to face Mr. B and Scudworth and put most of her weight on the doorknob. “Mister B, let yearbook know that if I get a picture with Issac, I’m going to need a digital copy. He looks amazing.”

“He makes a great lumberjack, Wesley.” Mr. B agreed.

“The only exception. Everyone else looks like shit!”

Scudworth glanced at Mr. B. “Don’t encourage her. You sound like you’re encouraging her,” he looked at CJ again. “You, stay away from that boy! I will not tolerate that in my house!”

Mr. B glanced at Scudworth. “Right,” he rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, Wesley.”

CJ snorted. “Oh, no. A boy.” She narrowed her eyes at Scudworth; she swung the door open. “It’s different,” she lowered the pitch of her voice and mocked her clonefather. “You’re not like them, you live in my house, the rules I have are different for you, hurr durr.” She scrunched her nose and raised an eyebrow. “Fuck outta here.”

“GO TO CLASS.”

[queenoffishingandcookies]

Random Ramblings about Battler’s clothing style, and then clothing for Fem Battler:

Spoilers Below!!!

This is just me think on ideas for character designs that 1) I found interesting and 2) I’m not actually skilled enough to draw yet. Lack of practice kills, folks.

Inspired by @peachducy’s recent art depicting designs for fem! battler (and Battler missing her wife is i c o n i c, I like your designs very much. Please find their art here, and check out the rest of their work!).

This is also inspired by the artwork done by artist Yoshino Kaoru (pixiv), as well as several others such as Serico, Yoshida (RAN)/Shidacoo, Still/Still (Just) and OnoyaAko/Onoo Eiko. There's a lot more, but you probably didn't come here for a face full of links, and Tumblr posts have image caps.

The art can be found on either e-shuushuu.net (the first links, for all names after Kaoru) or Danbooru (second links), as far as I'm aware.

DO NOTE: Danbooru hosts a lot of NSFW (18+) pieces of art, so please be careful looking for artwork on the website if you don't want to get an eyeful.

This is me looking primarily at the Manga, since throughout the VN, there are essentially no other Battler sprites outside of the clothes he wore to the family conference (the exception being his cape/cloak).

Buckle in, because this is about to get real long.

I’m about 90% sure that the first time we see Battler depicted in ‘non-conference’ clothing is in Alliance.

Example 1 of Battler's Wardrobe (The Amusement Park):

Example #2 of Battler's Wardrobe (Ange's Birthday):

There are a few other images of Battler, such as that single panel depicting his and Kyrie’s backs together in Alliance (?), as well as the few panels where we actually get to see Asumu, he is also depicted wearing baggy hoodies.

For reference, I’m also looking at Baby Battler’s conference clothing from six years prior to 1986, in order to compare the stylization.

Rough Clothing Analysis:

As a young child, while Asumu was alive, Battler is commonly shown as to wearing hoodies, and trousers and shorts (plaid, camo, etc). If I remember right, there's another panel when Rudolf, Natsuhi, and Krauss are talking on the former's infidelity, and Battler's depicted in an open-overshirt or jacket with a pair of jeans on (think flannel shirts, except its a plain and solid white on the page).

This choice of clothing seems loose, baggy enough to allow for a range of movements (We can presume Asumu was the one who primarily picked out his clothes, and helped him get dressed, at least when he was younger), but still well-fitting.

Even in the more formal clothes he wore to the family conference, including the former vest over top, where the cuffs of his dress-shirt sleeves were fitted around his wrists, the main fabric of the sleeves 'puffed' out rather than lay flat on the skin.

In other words, they're clothes that you would expect a young and energetic child to wear. On account of the manga pages primarily being in black, white, and gray, it's difficult to discern the actual coloring of the fabric other than - this is either white, or a softer color, while this is black or a darker color.

Also, and I'll go into this more later, but the general 'looseness' of Battler's shirts, hoodies, and pants have a resemblance to Asumu's own style of dress, the rough shape of her blouses and skirts.

This changes slowly as he gets older, slightly, from the references we have in the manga - some examples being the images I put in above. Battler progresses from loose shorts and pants to more fitting jeans (I think), and his hoodies - at least somewhat - give up their place to short and fitted jackets.

I call the jackets short, because they end somewhere around his waist area, and fitted because they lack the poof of the sleeves he wore when younger, and likely a difference of material possibly made them more 'rigid' compared to the fabric of a hoodie.

It's very tempting for me to think that the first jacket Battler wears is made of denim, as it reminds me of the jean jackets a few family members of mine own - and also, in Japan at the time, denim material was very popular (though I need to do more research on that).

The second jacket, on account of the belt buckles wrapped around each wrist, as well as hanging from loops around his waist, and the zippered pocket, I think I'd call it a bomber jacket? Those, at least in my experience, are usually made of some sort of leather. Interesting motif that, again, I'll bring up later (COUGH*kyrie*COUGH).

In comparison, I think hoodies are more commonly made of cotton? Anyway, I'm getting side-tracked.

Battler's jackets, on top of the pockets and zippers and belts, have chains attached to their hems (or, alternatively, his jeans). I find it interesting, since chains hanging from jackets or belts is something I personally have often read depicted as something representing a character seeming cool, or something that represents delinquency (which changes depending on the placement, the types of chain).

Battler tends to wear long-sleeved shirts, and solidly-colored ones at that, below his hoodies or jackets. Apart from the clothes he'd worn to the family conferences prior to the start of the VN (around 1979 or 1980, whichever you prefer depending on how you count his absence), Battler is always depicted with a dark-hued shirt in the manga, and the darker tones are indicated by the fact that his shirt is rendered in black ink. (Other option is that his shirt is actually black).

Additionally, he wears thick belts - and, such as on Ange's birthday, Battler seems to at least occasionally wear that at a slanted angle. Like I mentioned earlier, Battler also has chains attached - either to the belt itself, or the belt loops on his pants.

In the two instances of 'non-conference' Battler that I put at the top of the post, Battler also wears a necklace - both of which have hanging pendants. For Ange's birthday in particular, we see him wearing a necklace with a cross on it - a motif that his clothes in 1986 shares, as the zipper of his suit jacket is shaped like a cross.

Summary of Battler's Clothing.

As far as I can tell, Battler's color palette essentially follows this pattern. Darker, solid-colored shirts, with the pants and occasional jackets over top made of presumably lighter colors. His clothes are very simple, you could say. Real ornamentation is brought about the accessories he pairs them with, or the jackets he wears.

I wouldn't go so far as to call his accessories 'punk', but Battler favors simplistic chains attached to his jackets and so on - a sort of look that seems 'cool', similar to the occasional way his belt seems lopsided. This extends to jewelry he wears - simple chain necklaces, with small pendants hanging from them, and the thick belts.

He isn't flashy, doesn't wear particularly chunky chains or other large accessories to draw a lot of attention. Simple, sleek, stylish.

This coincides with popular styles in the 1980's, such as influences brought about by rising pop culture.

Similarities to other characters' clothing:

In my eyes, Battler's clothing choices - when he is a teenager, predominantly resembles two characters more than anyone else - Asumu and Kyrie.

I mentioned, earlier, that as a child the 'bagginess' of his clothes was reminiscent of Asumu's own silhouette. The simplicity of the accessories he wears, too, could also be taken from Asumu. However, he follows a 'darker' color like Kyrie, and trends towards styling what he wears in a similar.

These are all very small things I noticed, so this is just my opinion. I'll start with younger Battler's similarities to Asumu, who we never see in the VN, and only sparingly in the manga.

Asumu & Battler's Clothing:

Note: The two pictures labeled as Ep4 Asumu and Ep8 Asumu, I found on this post from @ramblingsofthegoldenwitch. There are immense spoilers in their post, which is about Asumu, so if you just want to see more pictures of Asumu, you’ll probably want to scroll to the bottom of the page.

Asumu favored blouses and skirts, if she wasn't wearing a dress. In other words, she had a traditionally feminine silhouette. Looking at the sleeves, you can match the puffy shape and the cuffs fitted to the wrists with the same sort of shirt that Battler wore six years ago, to the family conference.

Similarly her skirts, which roughly reached around the knee, were not fitted. They had flow to them, movement (I am not a fashion buff, despite nitpicking the tiny details in character design, forgive me for not knowing the shapes too well!).

In the panel where she's holding omurice with Battler's name on it (and he's so small and cute, I want to pinch his cheeks), Asumu's also wearing a sort of plaid-checkerboard apron. Matches with the plaid trousers Battler wore at the conference too, six years ago, and the looseness of the fit (as most children shorts are, I think?).

Her jewelry, too, is very simple. A necklace, with a single hanging pendant. In the full manga panel where Asumu’s image is depicted as though beneath cracked glass, we also see that she wore simple bracelets - the sort of plain bands without any other noticeable ornamentation.

This is something Battler also does, well after his mother has passed away - he has at least two plain necklaces that have simple pendants hanging from them.

Kyrie & Battler’s Clothing:

In a sharp contrast to Asumu, Kyrie is more commonly seen in blouses and pants (or, in the case of her sprite, a dress and pants). Rather than following ‘traditional’ portrayals of femininity as Asumu did, Kyrie’s style is noticeably more ‘modern’, you could say.

Unlike Asumu’s clothing, which was looser and fell straight or puffed around her body, and how her skirts flared out, shirt collars hemmed with frill or what I think might be lace (?) - Kyrie’s clothing is almost fitted to her body, from her sleeves and jackets, to dresses and pants. For the most part, she also wears long sleeves.

Additionally, Kyrie's clothing is often rendered in grays and blacks, compared to Asumu's seemingly lighter-colored clothes (only so much you can tell from the manga pages, though). Predominantly, though not always, she wears darker colors.

Outside of formal events (such as the image where she's with Rudolf at a party), Kyrie doesn't seem to wear much jewelry. However, she does tend to wear her belts slanted to one side, such as in her VN sprite and a few of the images I put above.

When comparing Kyrie's style to Battler's, they share the selection of dark colors, the wide belts, and the habit of wearing them slanted. In both her VN sprite, and the image of her walking away from Battler, we can also see that Kyrie also has a similar sort of cross motif.

Her tie has a crimson cross on it, and on her blouse or jacket in the next photo over, the buttons are also shaped like crosses (this is probably a coincidence, but I thought it was cool at least, haha!).

Other lines of thoughts - Battler & Kinzo's clothing:

I was going to mention similarities to Battler and Kinzo's style of dress, such as the fact that Kinzo and Battler actually wear the same shirt color, looking at their sprites - also, all the Battler and Kinzo parallels in regard to personality and appearance. However, in contrast to the images we have of Battler's clothes vs Kinzo's (the depictions of when he was younger, at least), they seem more opposed in my head?

Younger Kinzo, prior to the Kanto earthquake, is depicted often wearing a white (or lightly colored) button down, often with the collar also unbuttoned and left rising upwards, rather than being folded down around the throat. In childhood, he wears shorts, and this progresses to pants as he gets older.

In comparison, Battler wears shirts with low necklines rather than high collars, and there's an intervening period of 60 years between Kinzo and Battler's birth - the fashion trends change, and even when Battler wears high collars (ex: conference clothes), they are folded down around his throat.

Following the Kanto earthquake, Kinzo's style changes - he gets layers. His shirt and pants are added to, such as a vest, a coat, a necktie. Later still, circa the 1950's, Kinzo also seems to be wearing a cravat or jabot of some kind - further divorcing him from Battler's more modern formal suit, worn at the conference. The style he wears, as well as his difference in age to Battler, adds bulk that we don't see on our eighteen year old protagonist.

The closest similarities I find in Kinzo, his VN Sprite, happens to be the tie between their shared shirt colors, and the fact that Kinzo - like Battler - wears a suit of lighter color than his shirt. Battler's is a cream sort of color, whereas Kinzo is wearing white. There’s probably more, but my brain is fried.

Fem! Battler's Clothing: In General and For the Family Conference:

(Artists names are in the ALT text!)

I don't see being born as a woman (or presenting as one) as drastically effecting Battler's canon personality or personal preferred aesthetic - she'd behave very much like Jessica does in canon, standing outside of 'traditional' portrayals of femininity. In other words, a tomboy.

Being a tomboy doesn't necessarily mean that Battler doesn't wear or like to wear 'feminine' things, though. Case in point: Jessica. You can still wear skirts and be a tomboy, since I think the matter is that you are otherwise behaving in a ‘boyish’ and unladylike manner. Sure, the way you dress can have a hand in being perceived that way, but it’s not the entirety of what makes someone a tomboy.

Outside of the Ushiromiya Family, away from Rokkenjima, I don't think there'd be much of a difference in her clothing compared to what we get to see in canon? Battler would just also be able to wear skirts, leggings, and so on. It would be the same dark shirts or blouses, jeans or skirts, wide belts, chain motif, cross motif, short jackets and hoodies, and simple necklaces (for example...)

Her upbringing as 'a lady of the Ushiromiya Family', would have an effect on the type of clothing she'd have worn when in relation to childhood prior to Asumu's death, and the Ushiromiya Family as a whole, though.

It's known that the Ushiromiya family very strictly follows the roles assigned to a person's gender, even clothing-wise. (It’s what makes Eva design in particular so interesting - she’s the only woman in the family wearing pants, traditionally men’s wear, and non-western style clothing). I also noted earlier that Asumu dressed in a 'traditionally' feminine style.

Even being from a branch family, Battler would very much be brought up with that ideology in mind, even tangentially.

In regards to visiting Rokkenjima, due to her social standing, Battler would likely be expected to dress as a proper young lady, and this means dresses - blouses, or skirts, styled in lady's suits. I don't think she'd be forced into it if she didn't want to as she got older, but Battler was still raised in dresses and skirts.

It should also be noticed that, at least starting from Banquet, Battler displays levels of toxic masculinity and levels of misogyny, albeit unintentionally and not trying to cause harm (referring to woman as never directly answering question, getting upset unreasonably, etc), so even if Fem! Battler doesn’t care for the social norms of the time, especially regarding how she looks and behaves (and I really think she wouldn’t, for the most part), on some level it would still effect her, when coming from loved one’s at least.

The expectation of being feminine, though it might not bug her as much as it bugs, say, Jessica - who worries that her brashness is what keeps boys from asking her out, and so on - If Battler were really concerned about seeming feminine, I don’t think she’d do it out of concern for seeming unappealing to others.

She’d do it for herself (Battler, however, is someone very soft and squishy like a marshmallow on the inside. So, if it’s someone she cares about or likes who makes that comment…ouch).

Considering how fondly Canon Battler remembers his mother, I think that Battler - born or presenting as a woman later in her life - would in some manner attempt to mimic Asumu's style, as well as Kyrie's - the two women that she respects very much, and - because she is a woman - would be most likely to view as role models on some level.

As a very young child, I think Battler would very much be styled similarly to Asumu (and also Ange). Blouses with the puffy sleeves, and a pinafore worn over it (and probably several petticoats or some sort of crinoline, because no skirt holds shape like that on its own). Blouses and so on have the small ruffle or frill (see OnoyaAko's images above).

As she gets older, the silhouette of the skirts she wears doesn’t ‘balloon’ out as much, so to speak. They start falling down in a straighter line, and possibly more fitted around the waist in hips? Though not to same extent as Kyrie, where the fit is as snug as a glove - it’s still looser than that. Think pirate-shirt and slacks.

She probably starts wearing pants more often as well, after leaving Rudolf’s house to live with her grandparents (We don’t know much about Asumu’s parents, how traditional their views were. Whose to say whether they would have been concerned or not about Battler potentially dressing ‘like a man’? I like to picture they didn’t/wouldn’t mind much at all, though).

Personally, I've always sort of envisioned Battler (conference), wearing a blouse - or dress - with similar 'puffy' sleeves as Asumu wore, fitted at the wrists, same dark red fabric below the cream suit jacket that Canon Battler is known for. It’s just…her look, just as in canon.

I’ve think I've seen artwork where she’s wearing pants(?), but considering the social expectations of women in the Ushiromiya Family, to be feminine, proper ladies - as well as Battler’s prolonged absence where she literally left the family register, I feel like some level of stricter ‘code’ for dress would be followed for her - at the conference, she will eventually have to face Kinzo, after all (one of the misogynists to end all misogynists).

It would be best to try to stay on her ‘best behavior’. In other words, it would be best to avoid poking a sleeping beast (Kinzo) in an old wound (herself, dressing ‘inappropriately’ for a woman after having literally left the family for six years).

Therefore, for at least the conference alone, she’d maybe choose to wear a skirt over wearing a pair of pants, and maybe pack the pants instead as extra clothing.

The skirt maybe sits around the knees or mid-thighs in length. I'm not sure if it would share similar 'layers' or not, like Jessica, VIP Beatrice, or Natsuhi, though.

I made it longer than Jessica's and VIP Beatrice simply because, for the 1980's, their skirts seem to be short. Roughly the length of the miniskirt. They seem really short of the time period in Japan, and especially so for the family itself, considering it is the hyper-conservative and traditional Ushiromiya Family they are related to (literally).

Also, Kyrie or Asumu do/did not have 'layers' to their skirts, and considering Battler would likely emulate them on some level, maybe it would be edged with minor frill or some other minor embellishment, like lace, at the hem - instead of layers? If Battler were to have layered anything, it would be a really formal event...

For hair, I’ve always thought that Battler would have long hair. Majority of the fanart I’ve seen Battler depicted as a girl, she’s had long hair. I like to imagine it as long as Beato’s when loose, if not longer. It’s all that trauma from my childhood, I guess.

Though, considering both Kyrie and Asumu wore their hair short, taking the idea of her emulating them both and the sharing of parts of the character designs, it’s just as likely that she could have it cut short.

Also, I always see tomboys presented as having short hair and clothing deliberately selected to emphasis how their personality, favored past times, etc, is more like a boy’s than a girl’s.

However, Battler is a girl - and why would she have to act and look like a guy to do the things she wants, hang out with the people she want? What does her appearance have to do with that? (which, ironically, is exactly what makes her seem like ‘one of the boys’ majority of the time, she doesn’t care or really notice, and this leads to a series of misunderstandings where hearts of boys and girls alike are unintentionally broken).

It’s just something I always find interesting, the appearance of seeming traditionally feminine and almost demure on the outside, but being decidedly just another person - capable of being loud, of being brash, of being crude, sporty, etc - alongside it.

Formal Dress / Golden Witch Battler

This section is more self indulgence than anything else, so feel free to just skip it.

I’m fairly certain that, in both VN and Manga, there’s no depiction of the family changing to get dressed for dinner, but considering the high stakes and formality of the family conference, it’s always just been a sort of headcanon that sticks in my head and doesn’t leave.

A lot of Fem! Battler fanart depicts her in a dress, so naturally - I wanted to put her in a dress. Battler is hot enough in any world, that to see him or her (etc) in a dress would be fatal to most people’s hearts (Ladies everywhere hate him - haha).

But I always see her, in my head, as typically wearing the same suit - or an outfit I similar enough - to the family conference. Smooshing the idea of her in a dress with my headcanon of dinner was the perfect excuse for having both, essentially.

I think it’s mentioned somewhere in Turn that Battler’s family (and likely the others) brought several changes of clothes. So it’s possible!

I may also be a tiny bit salty that Battler, unlike the other witches in the series, didn’t get his own special ‘witch’ sprite (the cape is the bare minimum, and possibly counts as theft from Kinzo), so the fancy dress also gets to be her witch dress, once she solves Beato’s game.

Formal Ballgown Battler-wear is absolutely 110% inspired by Yoshino Kaoru’s art of fem! Battler (and I mourn the fact that there is no fem beabato art, though there are two pieces of masc beabato art 😏), as well as Yoshida (RAN)'s, and @peachducy’s witch Fem! Battler. Also, Still's artwork.

I ran out of space to add all those images because of the image limit, but know they're there in heart and spirit. Let me tell you, there’s no need for Kinzo’s absinthe in this household, because the characters and artwork in the fandom alone is enough to melt my heart and soul.

As I mentioned earlier, Battler probably wouldn't wear layers unless going to formal event - like the family conference, to her grandfather's western mansion on a secluded island. If you've got to dress up, you dress up to kill (bad joke was bad).

I don't have an exact idea that comes to mind for the sort of dress Battler wears, but the images I put above are along the lines of what inspires the thought of it. Part of me would want to put her in a victorian-inspired dress, with a sort of heart-neckline that rises up to her throat - hard to explain, really. Similar to the Shidacoo artwork, but the collar would rise encircle her throat? Also, the baggy sleeves, I really like the sleeves. Something like this, most likely (neckline-wise, at least).

Or maybe a sort of capelet, which would parallel Kinzo's cloak-cape...sort of like the small shrug jackets, except the back elongates and the collar's tall, and it's worn over her dress sleeves if she has them...ideas, ideas, ideas...

Anyway, that 'stricter' victorian would probably be an aesthetic more fitting for the adults - or a female version of Kinzo, whom I've already gone on a rant about (though that would invoke interesting further parallel between the two...?).

@peachducy's design of fem! Battler is really really really cute. I ran out of space in the block above, so I'll ramble about it here. So, they used reference from Beato and Jessica's sprites, and provided Battler with a similarly layered skirt - whereas Battler is still wearing the jacket, and vest as in canon.

Battler gets leggings with eagle on them, and has cross-shaped earrings (the ever iconic motif), and I can say without a doubt that she is hot. She even has a cravat/jabot with a cross pin! It's cool! Witch Battler gets a massive ballgown skirt, similar to Beato's own dress except...simpler, with the one-winged eagle up the length of it, as well as a cape similar to Kinzo's.

I am not visible, but know I am valiantly attempting to evade keyboard smashing.

On the other hand, the reason I like Kaoru's art so much, is because it shares motifs with Beato - such as the low back, and the shape of the sleeves and the just-off the shoulder design which makes it just a half-step different, and what it drops in mimicking the scalloped folds of her overskirt and golden embroidery (Beatrice's, I mean, tying her to Kinzo's cape), the design is replaced by simple layers hemmed in lace (and I'm always weak for lace-hemmed anything, sorry). Also, the fabric roses - because that's a tie to Beato, and throughout umineko, roses are Important.

Such as a golden rose laying to rest upon a catbox at the bottom of the sea. That scene broke me, and was what got me to regain interest in the VN after spoilers-

Still's depiction of Fem! Battler is also really good, because the lines of the dress of sleek and formfitting - reminiscent of the modern period, over historical-leaning gows (or that's how my brain interprets it), and it also brings back Battler's cross-motif. Still's dress reminds me a lot of Kyrie, actually. Sleek, straightforward, and mostly to the point - though it's still embellished with ribbons.

(Also, look at her hand on her hip!! The confident smirk!!! 10/10).

There's also another image attributed to OnoyaAko, where Battler is again wearing a dress, similar to Still's where she is sleeveless and wearing gloves, and with Beato - who is laughing. At her, and calling her cute (I think?). Meanwhile, Battler is trying to shove him away with a loo of utter disgust. The art piece cute, and just look at her face!

Dress-design wise, again, it's very simple. I like the black frontpiece, and how the skirt is tucked together before fanning out. Just..so many designs, so pretty.

The Opera Stella Iplehouse doll is another dress design I liked, and also and these two dresses ...

I have saved so many images from pinterest running through ideas, its not even funny. I have like five separate boards. Help.

Anyway, here ends my rambling on Battler's clothes, and the types of clothes he may wear as a girl.

[emeraldspiral]

Who wants to see some old cringe selfies of vintage millennial fashion?

So, the backstory behind most of these pics is way back in 2010 I got a job at Target for a few months and during that time most days I had to wear a red top with khakis as my work uniform and I very quickly started to get bored with the monotony. So I decided to do some bathroom photoshoots of the different outfits I had at the time besides the red tops I was wearing every day. I pretty much don't have a single one of these articles of clothing anymore, except for a couple of necklaces. Most of these I think I got rid of because I gained a lot of weight after I got a car, if not because my tastes evolved or they fell apart on me.

This first collage is a bunch of all black outfits.

The scarf I'm wearing in the first one was a souvenir my sister got me from the gift shop at Alcatraz when she was on a school trip. It's got a fake stamp printed on it that says "Rejected: Too Cute".

Second outfit, I think I got from Forever 21, both the dress and the thigh high boots.

Third outfit was probably mostly made of JCPenny pieces. I used to wear it to a lot of job interviews, not that it helped because the job market sucked almost as much back then as it does today. Also, those heels were from Payless and although they were cute, they were absolute murder on my flat feet. I held onto that tie for a long time with no shirt to wear it with because they don't really even make women's blouses anymore that button all the way up and even when they do, I can't wear them because all button-up blouses gape on me. Also, can't really find vests anymore, for that matter.

Fourth outfit I think I got from Value Village.

First outfit bottom row came from Kohl's and I bought it after only looking at the hanger and not the actual tag, but despite the dress being an XS and me wearing a medium at the time, it miraculously stretched far enough to fit, so I kept it.

The off-shoulder top I got from a local retailer that is actually still in business today with a handful of locations that have shifted to different suites around town over the years, but never shut down.

The velvet outfit I believe was either a hand-me down or an old church outfit that used to be knee length before I cropped it into a hi-low skirt.

All of these outfits by the way I wore in my late teens and early 20s to school and walking around town before I had a car. Nothing I own now or have ever owned is a date outfit because I don't go on dates.

First outfit in this teal/turquoise set is probably my most cringe. That headband was really ugly with my short hair, and I don't think that long top over a short skirt and cropped hoodie combo was a good look.

The top from the second pic came from a gift shop at Niagra Falls from a school trip I went on my junior year of high school. It originally had black felt ribbons, but the first time I washed it I didn't realize the ribbons weren't sewn on, so they came off and got destroyed, so I replaced them with turquoise ribbons that were sewn on.

Third top I'm pretty sure came from Gottschalks before it went bankrupt and got replaced by a Forever 21, if that doesn't carbon date me like the fossil I am.

The top in the first two pics on the bottom row I used to normally wear with a pair of black jeggings. Hear me out though, these were not yoga pants with a fake denim print slapped on top, they actually had texture like real jeans and I think a button and zipper even. The pockets were still fake, but they were actually sewn-in faux-pockets like they have on normal pants, not a print. They were basically just very thin, very elastic form-fitting jeans I wore so I could have a smoother silhouette under long shirts. I actually still own the necklace I'm wearing with that top, but I never wear silver anymore, so it's getting donated soon.

Last dress in the teal set is another piece I got from the same place my off-shoulder top came from. I might've even gotten them at the same time.

First top I got from a specialty online goth fashion shop. I actually didn't have my own credit/debit card at the time because I was still in high school, but my sister told me if I gave her money and she didn't think it was cringe/inappropriate for school, I could show her things I wanted to buy online and she'd get them for me. So that star top was one of the things I got along with the goggles and fingerless gloves seen in other pics, and an assortment of other accessories from when I was deep in my Hot Topic Mall Goth Invader Zim-core aesthetic phase.

The corset I'm wearing in the next three photos had no boning in it, so it wasn't uncomfortable to wear, except for the fact that it didn't stay in place or hold its shape like a corset should. I got that corset from a local retailer that closed down, in a mall that has since become a dead mall.

In the middle row, I believe I got both the top and the cardigan from Forever 21.

The brown outfit in the middle of the middle I think I got from JCPenny, except the green top, which came from Forever 21. Shoes might've come from Payless. That was my second go-to job interview outfit and I miss it a lot. I tried looking for those pieces on Poshmark once so I could recreate it. But it turns out the brown top and skirt actually came from the junior's section, so there's no way even the largest size I could find it in would fit me now.

I think the silky green skirt and the green sweater in the next couple of pics also came from Forever 21.

The butterfly top on the bottom row I think came from the same store where I got my corset. I don't wear heels anymore, but I also don't wear converse anymore either because zero arch support is just as uncomfortable as heels on my flat feet. I don't wear headbands either because they aren't comfortable anymore. Every one I try just squeezes my skull too much.

The green bustier-looking top is another one of my most cringe outfits because it was constantly rolling up.

The next top after it is also pretty cringe, cause it's just an unflattering shade of neon green.

The last outfit was one of my most frequently worn from late high school and throughout college. I used to wear it with a pair of dangly guitar-pick shaped GIR earrings that my sister got me when she went on a trip and got to visit a Hot Topic before we had one locally. At some point I swapped out the GIR earrings for a pair of zipper pull earrings because my sister told me the GIR earrings don't go with the rest of the jewelry I wore with it.

The navy crop jacket was another Forever 21 piece, and I think I got those agonizingly painful booties from there too.

Then there's my Butch Girl Style Icon Dib Membrane shirt that I had to alter to fit right because it only came in a men's size.

The next outfit below was a hand-me down velvet shirt/jacket thing that I turned into a dress.

Last outfit is probably my oldest. I think most of its components I got as far back as middle school, and I think they were hand-me downs even then.

I used to love that purple cardigan until it got stretched the fuck out in the wash. I think it came from the same place as the off-shoulder top and the teal dress.

The next top I believe was another Gottchalks piece I might've had as far back as middle school. It used to be a hideous brown/olive green until I dyed it, but it was already getting threadbare even then.

The purple cowl-neck outfit I think I also got from the same place as the purple cardigan.

Last outfit is another one of my most cringe outfits with yet another overlaying piece that rolled up all the time.

Closeups of some necklaces I wore in some of the above pics. I actually still have the black flower necklace, but that's another one that's getting donated soon because I don't wear silver anymore. I totally forgot it used to have another black chunky chain attached before I removed it. The soda tab necklace I made myself and painted with nail polish. I actually made several necklaces and bracelets out of soda tabs, some of which I handed out to my friends.

Bonus:

Me in one of many iterations of a black belted jacket I've worn throughout the years. I don't have this specific jacket anymore, but once I started wearing them, I've never not owned a long, black belted jacket as my main staple piece of outer wear. So I've never really escaped my Zim-core roots.

This pic was taken by somebody at my college paper. They saw me waiting for classes to start and wanted a picture of me for an article on fashion. I got a few copies to show my family, but they also posted the article online. Not a lot of people saw it and there were only a couple of comments, but none of them mentioned my outfit and one of them said something to the effect of "None of these outfits are in style and the writer of his article has no business giving out fashion advice cause everyone knows Alaskans are always 5-10 years out of date on the trends".

[starsbegantofall]

diy handmade wardrobe

You may remember, or not, it was a while ago, that I mentioned I don't really wear a lot of the clothes I've sewed for myself. Excepting the cosplay garments which are not everyday wearable pieces unless they were closet cosplay pieces with no or minor alterations, I really only wear my pajama pants and altered t-shirts multiple times.

I have worn a few handmade lolita dresses once or twice after the first time I wore them, but definitely not frequently like pajama pants and t-shirts. Firstly, I don't really wear dresses or skirts on an every day basis in my entire adult life, not even much as a kid. While I do commute to the office once in a while and could wear lolita there since I have a desk job, I mostly wear business casual with jeans/slacks and the occasional j-fashion blouse or cardigan (skirts have to be midi-length or longer and those are not very convenient for a short person to wear). I rarely go out on the weekends due to pandemic and lazy, so I would just run errands and dresses are not conducive to errands. So even if I did sew the cutest, most comfortable casual j-fashion dress, I would wear it maybe a few times in my entire lifetime. In the end, it's not worth the time and money invested into making it.

Read more about my plans here

The next obvious pivot would be to recreate the pieces that I do wear often, buuuuuutttt those are impossible for a home sewist to recreate. How do I sew jeans on my Hello Kitty sewing machine? I can't, the machine is much too small and weak to handle denim or even regular bottom-weight fabric. I don't have a serger so sewing knits like tops or casual athleisure would be a pain and look sloppy and would fall apart in the wash.

Okay, so the next obvious pivot after that is buy an industrial strength machine to sew denim and pants and a serger to work with knits. That would cost about... $2000 for medium quality machines. Maybe more with inflation. So I would have to make $2000 worth of clothes, or 100 hours of sewing (generously) just to break even. I'd have to sew every weekend for 6 months. Not counting the cost of fabric.

Which is the next issue. You can't really buy comfortable cottons or semi-natural fashion fabrics at the craft store chains anymore, it's mostly quilting cottons and synthetics and canvas. I am lucky to live near a big city with a fashion district so I could go there if I really want to for a variety of wearable fabrics that my skin would not reject the feeling of. That would not be cheap (well, idk, I haven't been to the fashion district in decades but judging from online prices, the stuff on clearance is on clearance for a reason) and I doubt I'll get the exact prints or colors I want even at full price. Thrifting bed sheets (aka the most comfortable cotton you can get cheaply) is.... probably not what I want to sell to others...

With all of these barriers, I have not been able to accomplish my goal in 2022/2023 of sewing handmade j-fashion inspired pieces for both myself or my etsy shop which was named "atelier" but doesn't sell clothes, and used to only have jewelry. My day-job also prevents me working on stuff lol, but as one of my goals was to retire early, I kinda want a head start on my atelier just in case I need to. I hopefully will have saved enough money to retire that I don't need to desperately work on a side hustle, but I like having back up plans. And also, I feel guilty not having any clothes in an "atelier" lol.

Because I'm lazy and don't want to do real business which is the downfall of society, my ideal plan would be to sew a few big/medium pieces, then a handful of coordinating or thematic small pieces, including doll clothes, and also some artwork or whatever, then release 2 or 3 times a year like how actual fashion companies do for the seasons. But with the resources I have, I just can't think of anything I can sew that would be good/sturdy enough to sell for price that equals the amount of time I put into sewing, and that anyone else would buy when they can get it cheaper elsewhere.

So my final idea is to either create very trendy items that I am fairly taobao companies will not make very well, or that American patrons would prefer to buy from a small artist in their country instead, or make fandom inspired items but fashionable like Super Groupies style. I think this is the way to go for me, tbh, that way I know I have made something unique and that I will enjoy making even if it never sells, so I would wear it myself lol. I did make jewelry in this style 2 years ago and jotted several notes of what to sew/craft for my shop in the meantime, but as mentioned before, the few items I made was not to the level of quality to be sellable (even though I personally love them and they're sturdy enough for my use of course) and I doubt I could do much better. But I have to work on leveling up my skills now or I will be too arthritic and blind later, so I have no choice but figure out something asap.

If anyone else has ideas other than buying new machines which probably I need to do anyway, let me know! Again, I'm not interested in making a profit, I'm not a capitalist nor scum of the earth, I am already a doctor, but I do want to be compensated fairly as an artist yet make good quality value-priced items attainable for everyone in these tough economic times. That's not easy, but I still want to try this year.

Anyway... back to more pajama pants for me.

[mintychocolate04]

Matsubara Yuuna

“ A beautiful princesses like you, should be treated gently and loved. ”

Full name: Matsubara Yuuna

Japanese name: 松原ユウナ

Romaji: Matsubara Yuna

Twisted from: ._.?

V/A: Mariya Ise (伊瀬 茉莉也)

Age: 18-19

Birthday: May 4

Horoscope: Taurus ♉

Species: Human

Height: 173 cm

Hair color: Denim Blue (and when got lightened up by sun it turns Wavy blue )

Eye color: Teal ( or cyan )

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦

Homeland: Osaka city

Dormitory: Ramshackle

School year: 2nd year

Class: 1-D, seat no. 3

Sexuality: Transgender( She's a female with a male face)

Dominant hand: ambidextrous

{Family: Unnamed parents and youngest sister}

Best class(es): doesn't really choose any subjects, but she's good to any class

Worst class(es): Except Math.

Likes: Mooching around her room, seeing new things, her admirers, Skirt's and male top clothes, being loved, swimming.

Dislikes: Family problems, The ghost when they we're suprising her, losing her goggles-.

Hobbies: doing her daily routine, likes to take a picture when she's traveling somewhere, Walk, Reading comic's with comedy genre, Swimming.

Talent(s): Beauty standard (uhh idk), making people confused bout her gender, Make-up skills, drawing, swimming^^,singing.

Flaw(s): Communication, Cheerful, Feminine & Masculine person, Material gurl ✨.

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦

Personality

Despite being from a different world, Yuuna became popular easily cause of her looks, Yuuna may be popular with girls but some other boys in NRC still teasing her because she doesn't have magic power.

Yuuna habits is to act like a gentlemen because she is confidence bout her looks and being a gentle suit her appearance.

She's too cheerful to anyone and she has a Prince-like personality, she's friendly and loved by people(mostly her admirers), But she often got scolded by riddle by not following the school rules (just by not wearing a proper way to wear a uniform-).

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦

name meaning:

Yuna/Yuuna(ユウナ): means Sun Plant

Matsubara(松原): means Pine tree plain

Trivia

• Yuuna is a transgender, alot of people is still confused about her gender(Male face. Got shooked why "He" wear skirts)

• When Yuuna met Ace, instead of Ace being a mean boy at yuuna, Ace is the one who got teased, but they still got close.

• Yuuna Pronounces: She/Her, He/Him, They/Them, it doesn't matter what she were called.And Her alias/nn is Yuna-kun by her admires, and Yuna-chan by grim,floyd, and kalim.

• Ace often got jealous at Yuuna for being famous around by ladies.

• Yuuna was asked many times why she was in the Ramshackle dorm instead of Pomefiore, She only answered "Idk" with a friendly smile.

• When yuuna met Vil,Rook and epel, she were nervous because of their outstanding beauty, but she still acts normal.

• Yuuna was a pretty young lady, until she cut her hair her face turned handsome for some reason.

• Let's talk about her Past.

Yuuna was intelligent young lady, She has a wealthy family, she were more talented back then than now, during her childhood at age of 9-10 alot of people admired her too for being a perfect child, she were happy about it but they only don't know that Yuuna was being only controlled by her parents just to get alot of attention to their family and being famous, she knew that very long time. At age of 15, she heard some false rumour or might it be true?, People avoided her alot and she we're confused about it and starts overthinking from what did she even do, at age of 16 she transferred to a new school, she were worried at first day of her new school, because that rumours might happen again so she changed herself and cut her hair into short one, after that on her first day of school again, it turn out well, she met alot of people and got close with them, But Her parents got mad at her and disliked her new looks, but yuuna doesn't mind and ignore their words against her.

• Her Hairstyle was always been a Wolf-cut^^

grammar sucks...get use to it:')