#butshelied

[batmanshole]

honestly i have grown very fond of my body as of late... ive always been like either unhappy or neutral with it. but you know what i have a cute tummy and a nice ass and hot thighs and i am happier now than i ever was when skinny or w/e. its awesome actually.

[highlifeboat]

Melony is that one friend that hasn't grew in height since they were 12 /j

Melony likes to believe that if her mom had fed/loved her properly, she'd be at least 5'6

What she doesn't know is that her being short is a canon event and all Melons are tiny

[zorkaya-moved]

── 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒅

your card is — DEATH.

you need rest. more than anything, you must allow yourself rest. death is frightening– it is inevitable, it is unstoppable– but, it can also be a thing of great beauty. it is an agent of change. it is the forest fire that paves way for new life. allow yourself this rest, and be prepared for the change to come. brace yourself. it will be hard, it will not be kind, but you are more than ready. you just need to rest first.

NUMBER: 13 UPRIGHT: endings, change, transformation, transition REVERSED: resistance to change, personal transformation, inner purging

tagged by: @sortilegiitagging: you all, go for it.

[jackpotsadmon]

me when i have to leave my cat (we are literally going on a trip and will be back in a week)

[ind1c0lite]

Just got back home so I didn't get far but KSHSKSH

🤨🏳️‍🌈

Starting a new chain cause the other one is getting really long KSHSKSH

EMA!!!!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not letting my partner literally draw blood from me.

So, my partner is convinced they're a vampire. I'm 20F, she's 21F. We just moved out, high school sweethearts, etc etc. She used to just be into the vampire aesthetic and whatnot, but in the last couple months she's filed her canine teeth, drank exclusively red stuff, tried to make her skin paler... whatever. I could care less, she's a wonderful caring partner, and she loves me.

But recently, when we were, uhm, kissing... passionately. She bit me. That's normal, whatever; not to get TMI, but thats normal. But it was *hard*. I pulled away, cuz it hurt like hell, but she made these puppy dog eyes at me and pleaded I let her taste my blood.

I explained to her- mostly calmly- that I'mnot super into that, boundaries, etc etc, butshe insisted that she was wilting from having to go out into the sun and she wanted some blood.

Add. info: as far as I know she's neurotypical, we've been together 4 steady years, and we live in the same Seattle apartment now. Idk. Am I the asshole here?? I'm pain sensitive and this is so weird. Advice also welcome

What are these acronyms?

[starrydaycare]

Nina The Killer agere with late 2000/early 2010 aesthetic with light pink and princess motifs (and a bit of impure/vent regression?) Headcanons, too! Can Jane The Killer can be her cg? Tysm!!!!!!!!!!!

Yeah!! I can do that!

Also, bc there isn't really any canonical drawings of Jane and Nina (That I know of), I drew the two photos of them myself. So, apologies if they aren't very good. I don't draw people very oftennn

🍪Regressor!Nina the killer and Caregiver!Jane the killer Headcanons!

🩷Nina is a trauma regressor, primarily. She started regressing as a coping mechanism when she was being harassed at school. At first, she didn't know what it was. After her first time regressing, she did some research and learned about the term "age regression". She realized that it matched her case perfectly, and from then on she was an age regressor.

🍪She usually regresses somewhere between 5-12, but on bad days can go as young as 3-4. Despite her usually older regression age, she likes having a pacifier and items suited for younger kiddos. She loves playing with toys like baby dolls, play kitchens, and play makeup, but also really likes making jewlery.

🩷Y'know those little kids disney princess nightgowns? Like the frilly ones? She really likes those! She likes to spin around and pretend that she's a princess. Once Jane becomes her primary caregiver, she'll either have Jane pretend to be a princess, too, or Jane'll become her loyal servant!

🍪She LOVES having her hair done! After bathtime, Jane'll sit her down and do pretty hairstyles on her. Nina's thrilled; she always shows off her pretty new hairstyle afterwards!

🩷Speaking of bathtime, she likes bathtime! She likes to have bubbles and bathbombs in the tub, then of course plenty of toys to play with! Jane washes her hair for her and plays with her, smiling as Nina giggles from the bubbles and stuff. Afterwards, of course, Jane helps her put some scented lotion on and dries her off with a princess-themed towel, making sure she's comfy cozy <3

🍪She's a pretty energetic kiddo. Not super hyper, butshe loves running around and doing stuff. She hates being bored! She's also really giggly and silly when regressed, laughing happily at everything and making childlike jokes.

🩷When sleepy, she likes the lights to be dimmed, but her nightlight to be on. She would possibly have LED lights, y'know the ones that change colors? They'd be turned on, either pink or purple. Once the lights are just how she likes them, she likes to kiss and hug AAAALLL of her stuffed animals goodnight! She doesn't want them to be sad, of course!

🍪Jane usually reads her a bedtime story, then turned on Nina's little disney princess CD player, playing childrens songs at a volume that won't disturb either of them as they sleep. Sometimes, Jane'll cuddle with Nina (and her 500 stuffed animals, of course. She's a collector) and they sleep aalllll night long, comfy and cozy.

🩷When Jane and Nina spend the night together, sleeping and cuddling, it's nice as if Nina has a nightmare, then her favorite caregiver is right there, ready to comfort her and give her all the affection in the world.

🍪Overall, Nina's a pretty good kid when regressed, and Jane's a great caregiver to her.

🩷🍪🍩

[punkassfrance]

Light Of Day - Part II - Tess/Fem!Reader

This chapter is explicit! MDNI! In which Tess' actions come back to haunt her. This work contains drinking, oral sex, and general criminality. ~3.3k words. Part I

She wallows for a while after that.

Well, not all that much changes. She’s hesitant to leave her apartment even without the humiliation of being caught—even though nobody was around to see what had happened, it was bad enough for just her to see. She doesn’t even consider whatever punk tried to attack that night—if he knows who she is, he knows not to fuck with her. No, he doesn’t matter, but her girl saw what happened. Damn it all. She’ll probably have to stop calling her that, too.

She switches to the small stock of instant coffee she keeps for special occasions, just for the week. There’s still a healthy splash of booze in the mug, naturally. Some things just don’t change.

There’s a chance what happened hasn’t been spread. Her girl doesn’t have much in the way of friends, after all—she knows that much. There’s a chance her dignity is more or less intact, her reputation untouched. Still, she can’t quite bring herself to check.

The kid across the hallway takes her cards and brings back rations. He skims a little off the top every time, butshe doesn’t kick up a fuss about it. Just writes it off as a delivery fee, or a tip, or even charity from what she knows of the kid’s family. She has enough to spare anyway. If she wanted, Tess could hide away for at least a year without selling a damn thing.

He should be back in an hour or so, as she thinks of it. Time kind of blends together when she does this- hides away from the world, watches through her little window. She’s seen her girl enter and exit the market a few times now, glancing around nervously as she should, but never looking up. Never up, thank god.

There’s a knock at her door.

She didn’t think the kid would be back with groceries so soon. He usually takes his time to avoid drawing attention. She doesn’t care one way or another, of course. As long as she gets what she paid for. “Give me a second, kiddo.”

She sets her coffee down on the countertop and reaches for a pair of basketball shorts on the couch, tugging them on before she gets the door. As much as she loves lounging around in her underwear, the poor kid doesn’t need to see that.

Clutching a lead pipe in her free hand just in case, she opens the door with a blank expression.

It’s frozen on her face when she sees her girl standing before her, shuffling her feet and pressing her lips together.

Neither of them speak, for a moment.Tess blinks, mouth falling just slightly open as she processes what’s before her. The girl looked up when the door opened, watching Tess from under her eyelashes as they took in each other’s presence.

It’s tempting to just close the door- just walk away from this situation with what’s left of her dignity, avoid confronting her childish bullshit for as long as possible.

That’s exactly what it is, isn’t it? Childish. She grimaces as the situation sets in, eyes darting around looking for some way to escape without making an even bigger mess of the situation.

“Took a lot of cards to find you,” the girl mutters after a long moment, mouth twisted up to the side as she watches the floor, like she knows exactly what Tess is thinking. If Tess manages to get out of this and they had nothing else to discuss, she would at least have to find out who talked.

“...that’s intentional.” She’s gone to great lengths to hide away from the world, to make herself a hard woman to find. Anyone looking to find her would have to look pretty damn hard, especially with the mere strands of information the girl would have had.

Before she can think about it, she steps back and holds the door open, eyes glued to the ground. The girl steps inside, glancing around, anywhere but at Tess. Once the door shuts, she doesn’t immediately lunge or reach for a weapon. It’s not much, but it’s slightly reassuring. Tess leans the pipe up against the doorframe and crosses her arms.

“...you’re Tess.”

It’s not a question, but Tess nods anyway.

“I guess I should thank you for saving me. And for all the, ah…” she trails off as she turns to face Tess, carefully looking up to meet her eye. Tess nods.

Now that the secret’s out, she realizes how creepy this probably is. It started out innocent enough; she just wanted to offer something to add a little light to the girl’s day, let her know someone…

“I can stop.”

She doesn’t get a response to that, only silence as she looks around the apartment. The sun is in her chair by now—if she didn’t have a guest, she’d be sitting there, sans shorts, finishing off her coffee, basking in the sun. She doesn’t stop the girl from meandering over to the window, leaning over the chair and catching a glimpse of the market view. Looking back up to Tess, she scuffs the ground with her boot.

“...what do you want from me?”

“What do you want from me?” Tess can’t help herself from snapping just a bit, crossing her arms. “You haven’t humiliated me enough?”

“Humiliated you?” She raises an eyebrow, glancing up at the ceiling as she thinks. “If I remember right, all I did was open the door. If you’re embarrassed, that’s not on me.”

They’re both silent again, each of them back to avoiding eye contact.

“What do you want from me? If you’re trying to pay me for something, I don’t know what it is. I can’t offer you anything.” Her eyes widen, hands raised.

Oh.

She hasn’t made her intentions clear. Here’s a chance to correct that—or a chance to back out. Before she can decide what to do with the misunderstanding, she can’t help herself.

“You think I’m trying to pay you?”

The girl looks lost and exasperated as her theory falls apart, and goes back to looking around once again. Still, she doesn’t try to attack. Tess stays rooted to the ground.

“...why else would you give me shit?”

She stares at the girl, taking in the first real look at her face. It’s not obscured by a window, a hood, weather, or the corner of her own eye as she tries to be coy. Her usual silence, easily mistaken for shyness, has been replaced with distress. Tess should have known the anomaly of a random gift would have set her on edge. But those thoughts are far off, on the back burner of her mind. Christ, she’s a vision.

The look on her face must betray her as realization dawns.

“I’ll stop.” Tess mumbles, gritting her teeth.

“You-”

Tess jerks open the door beside her, stepping aside and watching the ground, furious with herself as her face heats up. “I’ll stop.”

That would be the end of it, then. Tess would sell off her box of gifts, respectfully look away when the girl entered the market, and never know her middle name or how she liked her coffee. She would likely never know those things anyway, but it was a nice fantasy to hold on to while she had it. It felt ridiculous, sure, but it was easy enough to justify- everyone needs a thought to fall asleep to, right? Some small comfort in a world of terrors? There was no harm in it. And now it’s over.

A soft hand rests on the wooden door, pushing it shut. Tess can’t bring herself to look up.

“Is it Tessa?”

Tess looks up, eyebrow raised. She’s watching, lips pressed together as she waits for an answer.

“Theresa.” The few girlfriends she’s had over the years called her Tessa on occasion, but that doesn’t feel like what she’s asking.

“Theresa,” the girl repeats, giving her a slow once-over. She doesn’t look nearly as confused as she did just moments ago. Meanwhile, Tess is sure she’s lost the plot. Her brow knits together, lip slightly curled, as she tries to figure out what exactly the girl is getting at. “From what I’ve heard, you’re not exactly shy. Did you just…not want to talk to me?”

“I…” She’s not sure how to explain herself. She never really questioned what she was doing or felt the need to justify herself. She thought nobody would ever ask why. Why would they? Her head shakes vacantly, still denying the situation. “I’ll stop.”

“I didn’t ask you to stop.” She steps forward, silently coercing Tess away from the door. Tess lets the girl herd her a few feet back into the apartment, curious to see where this is going. “Asked why you didn’t just talk to me.”

One hand comes up to Tess’ shoulder, guiding her up against the wall. She lets it happen.

“Didn’t want to scare you off.”

“You think you’re scary?”

Her immediate instinct is of course. It feels like a stupid question—she fucking runs Boston on reputation alone by now, men twice her size have nightmares about her, even Joel caves to her.

But her girl might not know about all of that.

To her, Tess is just a mystery. Some random, anonymous older woman with a very strange way of flirting. Some part of her demands a rabid correction—I think I’m fucking terrifying. You should too. But if this goes her way, if she really has a shot with this girl… that might not be the first impression she wants to make. The whole reason she put herself through these hoops was to avoid scaring her. Why come all this way just to blow it when she’s so close? So close to…something.

“I think people are scared of me.”

The girl tilts her head, reaching up to push a few strands of hair out of Tess’ face. Her cool fingers skim over the freckles on Tess’ cheek, the first kind touch she’s received since her last fling wanted more than she could give. She melts at it more than she’ll admit, looking down at the hand in the corner of her eye. The feeling in her chest is almost forgotten, but not fully lost. Defrosting.

She takes Tess’ hands in her own, running her thumbs over the marred skin, and pulls them forward. Tess stays stubbornly pressed against the wall as her hands are brought to rest on the girl’s waist, flesh giving way as she curls her fingers on instinct.

“I think you’re scared.” She’s close to a whisper as her arms loop around Tess’ neck, pulling them together. As though she didn’t just throw out an accusation that could easily get Tess killed.

Maybe she meant it as a challenge, maybe she didn’t. Regardless of what she hoped to accomplish, all it does is make something coil tight in Tess’ chest.

She breaks.

The girl’s lips are so soft. She’s pictured this many times, while falling asleep, zoning out on a shift, listening to the rain on her window. Despite the corner she’s backed Tess into, she’s modest with her affection, both of them getting a sense of the other before they move forward. As the girl sinks into her, her hesitations fizzle out as if they never existed at all. Tess’ arms wrap around the girl’s waist, one supporting her upper back as she pushes off from the wall. Her girl arches the small of her back, hips pressing into Tess as they stumble together to the couch.

Her girl isn’t exactly shy, but Tess doesn’t hold back. It’s not long before they’re kissing like this isn’t their first time—like they’ve been together for months, years even, like this is just one of many nights with each other. Like they’ll have all the time in the world to do it again, and again, and again.

A hand teases at the edge of Tess’ tank top- she lets the girl wander, lets her explore the skin beneath with a mild hand, but she pulls away for only a moment to mutter, “Leave it on.” If this is her only shot, she’s not about to waste it on her own pleasure.

Once Tess has laid her on the futon, she raises her arms, spread out for Tess like she’s not scared in the slightest. Like she carries no regard for the cross of a reputation Tess bears—like she’s trustworthy.

“My name-”

“I know your name.”

Tess cuts her off, kissing across her collarbones as she chuckles. “Bit of a stalker, huh?”

Looking up from under her eyelashes, Tess shrugs impassively, tugging the girl’s shirt off and onto the floor. The fabric is worn and thin, soft under Tess’ hands.

“Just… took an interest.”

“Should I be nervous?” The girl smirks, undoing the button on her jeans with one hand, stroking Tess’ hair with the other.

“Oh, very.” Tess nips at the supple skin of her breast, leaving behind a barely noticeable mark. Her knee nestles up between the girl’s legs, something firm for her to grind down on. She takes advantage, eyes flickering shut as she exhales. It’s the first visible sign of pleasure Tess has pulled from her, and she quickly remembers how enticing the feeling of success is. So quickly it grows on her, sidles up alongside her veins, making itself at home with her desire. It’s almost parasitic, something new and demanding inside her that will never part.

Her girl pulls away before long, giving Tess the chance to tug her jeans off and push them aside. She takes a moment to admire what she sees before moving on; gray cotton panties, worn thin with loosening elastic along the waistband, dewy wetness gathering in the defined notch Tess can trace with her fingers. She does, roughened fingertips testing the slight give of her flesh, how it yields to her touch. All motion has stopped, her girl now frozen on the couch, barely breathing at the touch. When Tess notices, her fingers stop, forcing a breath out of the girl.

“You’re a fucking tease.” She whispers as her chest falls, tucking her thumbs into the waistband of her underwear. “Do something or I’m going home and getting myself off.”

“No, you won’t.” She pushes the girl’s hands away and begins the slow tug to remove her underwear, world narrowing to the sight. Thin, faded stretch marks adorn the skin she runs over, the swell of her thighs resisting the drag of the fabric ever so slightly. It’s mesmerizing, especially the stretched seconds of the gusset pulling off her already soaked cunt. “I don’t think you’re going anywhere,” Tess whispers, the girl’s panties hanging off her finger before she sets them down on the coffee table. She won’t be getting them back, whether she likes it or not. “You didn’t come all this way to just go home and get yourself off.”

She backs up on the couch, positioning the girl’s legs over her shoulders and adjusting until she’s comfortable. It’s familiar, muscle memory by now, even if she hasn’t taken anyone to bed in some time now. It doesn’t matter—she couldn’t forget this if she tried. Tess kisses the skin of her thighs before licking up her slit, gathering the wetness on her lips before pushing forward.

Tess has to hold her hips tight to keep her stable on the couch, the girl’s back arching as Tess buries herself between her legs. She sounds like she can’t quite catch her breath, fighting to exhale as Tess refuses to let up. One leg kicks at the air behind Tess’ head before curling into her back, pressing her closer; she finally breathes out a broken moan as Tess circles around the girl’s clit. She feels fingers on her hairline, cautiously pushing up until her girl has a bit of control over Tess’ head. She doesn’t take advantage of it, just keeps both of them steady, keeps Tess where she wants to be.

“Tess—” the girl mewls, shuddering as tension builds. Her muscles threaten to cramp under Tess’ fingers, legs held out of the way. She pushes her tongue inside as she mindlessly works out the kinks and knots in the girl’s thighs. She responds with a harsh tug on Tess’ hair, one she’s tempted to punish, but she’s willing to let it slide for the wail she lets out. No sense in getting too… depraved. Not when it’s the first time really has the girl’s attention.

The girl audibly chokes and squeezes her legs around Tess when she cums, ankles locking behind her. Tess buries her tongue further inside, not daring to change a thing. If this is the last time she gets to speak to her, the last episode of this weird little situation they’ve made for themselves, she’s not going to ruin it. She exhales in relief as she feels the grip on her hair tighten, then ease. They sit there for a moment after she stops trembling, Tess’ head tilted against her thigh, watching her chest rise and fall. The hand on her head gently releases her hair, brushing through the bands of gray and pushing them out of her face. She’s not looking down at Tess, one arm tossed over her eyes as she recovers.

She almost wonders if her girl has dozed off—her breathing is rhythmic and steady, she makes no effort to move or address Tess. Still, she can’t complain. There’s a strong possibility that she’ll never see the girl again, neither of them will ever stoop to this low again. Tess, with her stupid crush, and her girl, fucking a borderline stalker. As much as she hates to admit that that’s what she is.

After a few minutes of silence, she starts to shift. Tess sits up to give her room to move. Looking over to the coffee table, she grabs a hair tie, pulling half of her hair back out of her face. She probably should have done this sooner, but she likes to give her partners something to grip on to—tt’s part of the fun. She also takes a cigarette off the table, lighting it up and taking a drag as the girl sorts through her clothes on the floor. Tess catches the moment when she sees her panties on the table, looks over to Tess in the corner of her eye, and stands to pull her jeans on. She’s glad she doesn’t say anything—those belong to Tess now, one way or another.

She fights with the breaking clasps of her bra before Tess stands and helps her, smoothing her hands over the straps and fixing a twist where she wouldn’t be able to reach. The girl lingers before picking up her shirt, looking at Tess over her shoulder and smiling before bending at the waist. It puts them in a suggestive position as Tess’ hand drags down her skin, settling on the small of her back, her other hand holding the cigarette off to the side. Tess tries to commit the sight to memory, just a few seconds to keep to herself when this fledgling affair dies quietly in the water.

When she stands and pulls her tank top back on, she turns and tucks two fingers into Tess’ waistband, pulling her in.

“Am I out of your system by now?”

Tess looks over her again, eyeing her with a starving gaze. “Not a chance.”

The girl gets up on her toes one more time to kiss Tess, wrapping an arm around her neck to pull her in. “You know where to find me. Next time, I might just let you in.”

With that, she turns and walks out the door, shutting it behind her before Tess can say a word.

At LAST, I finished it! Got this request MONTHS ago, but writer's block is a bitch. I'm technically open to a part III, but I have other projects in mind, so it's not super likely. Feel free to say hi or drop your thoughts in my askbox, check out my AO3 or my about me if you're interested!

[jonmyblaze]

MAMAN LE CHAT AU

Or how Adrien found out his bio!parents were American furries., And his mother was a famous cat girl.

MLB and DC Bat fam batcat, Adrienette and ladynoir,

" imagine as a subversion of the Marinette bio daughter of Bruce. We have Adrien being BATCATS biological child.

Born before Helena, and before Bruce and Selena were ready to tie the knot for realsies.

Selina was young, Bruce wasn't in the right mindset after Jason's death. Boundaries were drawn and lines were crossed.

She thought she was fine. Until she started puking in the morning during her Trip to France

It was positive

She was pregnant.

During her trip she stumbled across a loving family. At a swingers party (this was during the early stages before she decided)

At one point she wasn't going to keep the pregnancy but then while her trip around France found a lovely couple named Emile and Gabriel.

They were so loving and kind to her. Emilie even joked that they could be twins.

)she had decided to grow her hair out and stop dying her hair black. Nobody would recognize her and on the plus side Selina had absolutely ravishing blonde hair. )

She wasn't planning on keeping the pregnancy but then she heard the couples plight.

Emile was infertile. And Gabriel too. But they really wanted a child

they were so loving and kind and supportive that Selena felt it would be best she gave her child the life of a child that was wanted.

Both were deeplly loving. But they didn't want to be intrusive , They argued against the idea but Selina made up her mind.

she would keep the pregnancy, give the couple a chance to raise a bouncing baby child that they would love and adore.

Selina never felt like she was cut out to be a mother butShe still visits.

At least once a year for his birthday.

She even was Even labeled godmother of her son should both the parents be unfit for her sons. She was still a part of her child's life.

All was going well until the incident

------years later----

Now imagine, Selina Kyle finds out her son was in a worse position, his father is emotionally neglectful now and is in a downward spiral trying to find a way to save his wife at the cost of his own son's happiness.

and get the bat family to help , (save Adrien, fight Gabriel advocate for him to be taken to either home or emancipation. )

imagine him being the Only blonde in the family other then Steph and Bette. (Who I will keep in the family)And they all thinks he's the normal one."

Imagine what dick (who is fully grown and married to Starfire) would think about his mentor having a blonde bio child

And she only takes him away after he hires her to steal the miraculous.

Welcome to "MAMAN LE CHAT AU"

[helloescapist]

In Another Life | Mitsuri Kanroji

Word Count: 5810

Setting: Mitsuri Kanroji x fem!reader (reader is engaged to her brother), angst, mutual pining

Content Warnings: MDNI (go on, shoo shoo), NSFW, heavy make out session more-or-less, but please note, that this is a girlxgirl fic that takes place in the Taisho period of Japan AKA taboo for the era (and is NOT a reflection of my personal beliefs!).

Summary: a love that could never see the light of day, nor be welcomed amongst every day life, Mitsuri's affections only allowed behind closed doors and under the shade of a hagi bush, but you deserved... so much more.

[This artwork does not belong to me, all credit goes to the artist!]

The smell of warm seasonings tickled her nose, the tender scent of osmanthus fragrans. The gentle tint of smoke edged amongst sugary sweetness, the mark that summer had descended to fall. Bend to the new season, and peacefully released its warmth in favor of cooler days.

The sunflowers had given way for their arrival, greeted the wave of leaves that bared such a striking hue, that even the finest of tangerines would feel shame in their presence. Their crimson partners gifted by the Japanese maples, were the object of envy of rouges, paled in their comparison. A vision of beauty as they danced across the garden, intertwined. Fated to dance alongside one another amongst the breeze, Always by one another, close enough to touch, but never within reach. Doomed to share this façade, knowing all too well that both leaves may never embrace, their partner destined to be the dirt. Like the Kurokami dance performed by geishas, never destined to caress one another. Damned to perform this façade for the duration of their life.

                Mitsuri’s eyes fell to her family’s garden, her eyes the same shade as the Lady’s slipper orchid captured her envy. Her heart felt as heavy as the leaves that fell from the tree, forever intertwined in a fate to deny one another, landing unheard amongst the stone path way. Her gaze left to trace upon the fallen members of ill-fated love, the path of stone having led from one side of the veranda, swayed around Japanese maples, greeted fall blooms. The distant memory of her childhood lost amongst the hagi bushes, and the love she had cultivated beneath their blooms.

The hagi bushes had been in an early bloom, hushed shades of green that welcomed the cool weather. The respite from a scorching summer ushered in gentle blooms that had slowly claimed over half of the Kanroji household’s garden. At first, it had been merely a small bloom one of the older children had brought home, sowed into the corner of the garden. Mitsuri could not quite recall the details, having been to small to understand the entire situation, butshe had understood that it was a symbol of love that had passed, but remained in her sibling’s heart. The gentlest of smiles when it had begun to bloom the following year, a reminder that love never truly leaves, and in time, the plant that had often only been barely adequately maintained had captivated a majority of the yard although it had never phased any of the Kanroji. In the summer, it offered small amount of shade to the younger members of the family, alluring blooms in the fall, and the constant reminder that though love may have to leave us one day, it never truly abandons us. So there, it had grown, tenderly cared for by the members of Kanroji. Its soft fragrance as delightful as the sakura mochi Mitsuri’s mother had placed before her. Composed of the perfect ratio of red bean pasted that touched upon the shy shades of pink, mildly sweet with the delicious salty tint from the pickled sakura leaf, proof of her mother’s affections. Mitsuri’s small form hung from the veranda, her feet far too small to properly reach the garden below her, nor the steps from the path way. The flicker of rice that touched upon her cheek as she indulged in her favorite snack. Her bangs, reminiscent of the cherry blossoms that had left in spring, her hair weaved into three separate braids that met her yellow kimono. Her small feet pitter as they swayed with joy, her smile as vibrant as the day before her. Vaguely aware of the rush of her household that day, the different family members busied with greeting the arrival of a new neighbor—a detail the young girl had remembered as she had been thrilled to hear about the obligatory soba noodles.

                She had been completely enthralled in her snack when she had heard her older siblings whispered, peeking between doors towards an inner room of their home. Giggled as they peered through the gap in the shoji doors. Whispers of how cute someone was, drawing her attention from her snacks. Stuffing the last bite into her mouth, puffing her cheeks to the point they were even a little swore as she pounded down the hallway. Her curiosity guiding forward, slipping her socks against the wood flooring that made up the family home. Traction gained as she slipped, her shock mixed with excitement as she scooted pass her siblings, popping straight into the shoji doors they had dared to snoop from. The tumble of the doors caught her father’s attention, knocked off track and even lightly punctured as she collapses in a heap, her small frame landing at the threshold of the room. Her father released an amused laugh as most of her siblings fled the scene of the crime; their cheerful laughter and scampers down the hallway capturing the nature of the Kanroji family. Her brother a few years old of her the only one to remain at the sight, an obvious accomplice that had been caught between her and the floor in her descent. Her father didn’t bother to hide his laughter, loud and booming as were his affections for his playful children. “Are you two okay?” His laugh was harmonious.

The proud smile adorned at his lips, Mitsuri’s own lips returning the sentiment before rolling off her brother, flexing her arms in pride as she so often did,” I am Okay!”

“I’m not,” her brother groaned. The creak of his voice and hand at his back as he pulled himself from the wood floor. The mark of the wood paneling clear on his cheek, his sister quick to check him for further wounds, desperately apologizing. The tears beginning to form in her eyes, only laid to rest when he patted her head. His eyes the same shade as her mother’s, as sweet and generous as the yummiest anko drifted from hers. A light shade of pink that dusted his cheeks and ears forced himself into a quick mannered sitting position. Fists trained at his lap, further eliciting her curiosity.

The very same neighbors that would come gifting soba noodles sat across from her father. The gift in question having already been secured by her mother and spirited away to the kitchen. The neighbors were a family unit, a father and mother whose features were beginning to give way to their years. Their features trained and restrained, well-mannered and quiet. Mitsuri’s eyes drifted across their kimonos, a little more lavish than that of her family’s. The father’s cool, aloof nature was interesting, and Mitsuri loved the composure the older man expressed. The rumbustious nature of her father, nor the clamorous children who had whispered outside the room had not phased the man at all. Nor did it his wife, her behavior as poised and as graceful as a snowflake against the wind. As beautiful as any morawski doll, her face delicately painted, the small figure next to her a near copy of her. Shyly scooting closer to her father, Mitsuri peered curiously at you. Your expression as trained as your father’s, and features gifted from your mother. Beautiful and delicate, Mitsuri had guessed you appeared to be roughly her own age, surely no older than the brother at her side. Your eyes as reflective and luminous as the moon, the natural hues of your cheeks as breath taking as a hagi blossom, you bowed your head gently in greeting at her. The realization it was directed at her enough to send Mitsuri’s heart through a murmur shock, quickly bowing her head, vigorously and far too over enthusiastic. She had nearly threatened to put a hole through the floor boards. Her swift bends eliciting the most musical Mitsuri had ever witnessed. The greens of her eyes, shy and curious as she peered up, becoming all too aware that the same blush that had captivated her brother, was now her own. Your shoulder’s met your ears, your hand gently clasped and touched your lips, spread the blush across Mitsuri’s features. Your giggle as soft as any blossom could ever hope to be, and as beautiful as a crane. Thrilled her in a way her young heart could not quite comprehend.

Nor could she explain the way her heart fluttered when your hand met her own. At the insistence, she had guided you into the garden. Engaged her brother in a game of Onigokko before clasping your hand into her own, ushering you under the protective shelter of the hagi garden. The same one her older sibling had planted to remember his love had guided her first. Greeted the attachment as summer greeted fall and sheltered the two of you. The soft giggle that rang through her ear, the fold of your lips enchanting and enthralling. Enough to steal her breath, “You have rice.” The drumming of her heart within her eardrums, pounding and loud. The caress of your small finger, against her cheek, gently brushing it aside. The odd flutter against the pit of her stomach, different from the snacks that filled her belly, the rush at her ears. The clasp of her hands against them, overwhelmed and unsure what it was she was experiencing.

The young girl had thanked all of the gods for her brother having discovered you two between the bushes. The jovial way he had greeted the two of you had gone long over her head, misplaced as success of winning the game. She hadn’t noticed that the same tint of her ears had captivated his own. The distant memory haunted her. The gape of his mouth, the shy way he had studied your features in the moment, completely unaware of the leaves that had stuck to odd ends of his hair, distracted by his budding disposition. The Love Hashira could curse herself, shamed by the jealousy her heart captivated. Today, was a day of joy, she reminded herself. Her eyelashes heavy as she studied the garden before her. Both of your families had prayed for this day, over and over many years. Her fingers fumbling over the tie at her obi, a gentle embellishment of her clover motif. Chiding herself for the envy, doing her best to pray the bitterness that threatened her stomach. She hadn’t eaten; a detail she was beginning to worry wouldn’t go unnoticed. Today was one of joy, a beautiful union in which two families would be joined in matrimony. Hearts forever embraced, never to be victim to forbidding romance. They would be able to touch freely, as often as they desired. Would not have to hush their affections, rather free to express it to anyone who happens to see. Explore their opportunities, and each other’s touches. A way that only lovers would dare to openly, rather than face the casualties of social norms, and a love only lived through secret trysts beneath a hagi bush. Today is a happy day, yet she could not deny the growing gloom that captivated her. Held her prisoner, envious of all days. Today. Today, her heart yearned, but not for the groom. Rather for the bride that would soon join her family at her brother’s side rather than her own. Her older brother had been overjoyed to announce his betrothal.  His meetings with the matchmaker had as much success as her own, his jovial and loud personality was well matched amongst the Kanroji clan, but often misplaced for would be matches, and so, when he had rushed to share the news of his upcoming nuptials. The Love Hashira gushed with joy, cooed his praise. Reassured him that his bride-to-be was blessed by the gods to have him for a husband, and he would be too. She just knew that any woman whose parents had selected him for their daughter must be breathtaking. And… you were. She could curse her insistence to know the name of his bride. Shamed at the jealousy that captured her throat. His smile as her own as he beamed with pride, [LN]. He had declared, then bashfully sputtered that perhaps, he should become acquainted with your first name. So overcome with excitement, recounting your beauty, your grace, your smile, your laugh, he had not realized that the grin upon his sister’s lips had faltered. Fallen into disarray, and forced back up. Pained and agonizing. For all the adoration he had spewed, she knew all too well. The Love Hashira had been blind; Mitsuri had overlooked the way her brother had fostered his own affections for you. Far too preoccupied with her own romance, and hushed emotions, she had missed the smiles he would offer you. The way his cheeks would light for you alone. The pout when you would play house together, having lost the place of husband for the role of child; his frustration only cooled when you patted his head, claiming to be a good mother. Struggled to swallow the knot that had formed in her throat. That day in the garden, when the Onii had found you. All of the blossoming symptoms of young love, nervous laughter, over enthusiastic greetings, gifts with you in mind… All of these things had hid beneath her nose, escaped her notice as they were none other than all of the emotions she had cultivated. For her brother’s love. For his bride. For you.

Her eyes glued to the garden. To the memories of simpler days when your love was hers alone. Painfully aware of the commotion behind her. The women at your side, singing praises of the beautiful bride. Skillfully webbing stark white uchikake, practiced hands needing no instructions as they prepared layer after layer across your agonizing still form. Years of service at their disposal, professionals in the field, the women were well practiced in a bride’s temperament. Quietly accepting that you had not once uttered a word the entire day, neither to accept their praises, or well wishes, nor to select the embellishments that adorned your hair, your breast. Your only request had been to have Mitsuri at your side although your eyes had never met her own. Only trained to the garden before you two. Distant memories clinging, the older women chuckling as they had heard the couple had played there in their youth. Assumed that the stillness of the bride was the result of nervous, they had seen it before, they had assured Mitsuri, misplacing her unease for concern. Concern for her brother, she should be as the woman who would stand at his side resembled a ghost of mourning rather than a symbol of joy. The shuffle of clothing drawing her attention, as a feminine voice whispered in her ear, “Kanroji, would you assist [LN] with her rouge? I think she would feel better if it were you?”

“Ah, yes, yes I can do that,” she had forced a smile. Trained her vocie to sound as pleased as she could to perform an act of sisterly affection. As she should be. Pulling herself from the veranda, turned to face the beginning of the end. The crossroads she had found herself before. The path she had long to walk, one of lovers intertwined allowed to embrace as any others now diverged. Shifted to a route fitting for the era, sisters. Her eyes capturing the crisp folds of your kimono. Elegant as any bride could ever envy, the white portraying your innocence. As breath taking as a lavish pearl, and airy and as heavenly as the moon, all of the poise of Tsukuyomi. The small lining of red as your cheeks had been when you had embraced her, the small charms at your color, all of which the women assisting you had been of their own choosing. Rumored that you had refused to participate much in the selection, nerves. Hair meticulously tied back, the wataboshi that resembled an otherworldly charm. Warm and affectionate, all of the love in its symbolism. Bathed in the intentions to suppress jealousy, ego and selfishness. A gentle and obedient wife, one worthy of marriage. Of a husband. For all of its holy intentions, Mitsuri’s eyes could not leave it as she pressed forward. It was not capable of denying her own jealousy it seemed, and for all your years together, she had little doubt you were not a tender woman, and considerate. Only one time had you ever dared to be selfish. The night recalled as Mitsuri pressed her fingertip to the rouge. Dutifully saturating the tip of her finger. Delicately pressing the reds to the apples of your cheeks. Dusting them warmly, why had your complexion paled today? The lively nature of hues that had painted your features that had infatuated from her were absent. Devoid of their usual vibrancy, harrow to her touch. Your eyes averted from her own as her touch graced your lips. The last time she had done so, choking the breath from her. Plush full lips beneath her caress. Intimate. More than sisters should be.

He had left her. His words had played through her head a million times, like a beginning shamisen player who could not proceed, stuck on the same notes and unsure of how to proceed. Much as Mitsuri herself. Lost to the scornful remarks of her hair, the scent of dye clear on her fingertips. The strain of her muscles unfamiliar with her gentle movements. Far too adjusted to utilizing strength and stout. Forced to perform in ways foreign to her. Pressed lips as she strained against her own nature, her figure felt sore and tight. Denied the rumble of her stomach, hunger pains that ached and drew tears to her eyes. Smaller meals, delicate proportions, one deserving of a wife, ladylike in nature were beginning to wear her down. Make her weary, her body heavy. Hungry, and anxious as her fingers threaded through her locks. Claimed her senses as she stared at her appearance in the mirror. Meticulously folding the dye time and time again, she had another marriage offer. Determine to wash away her reflection. Scrub out any abnormalities even if it meant performing the task until her fingers bled. Raw to the touch, the flesh ached with the high chemical potency, yet she could not cease the movement. The young Kanroji’s eyes trembling as slowly, but surely all evidence of her peculiar hair that was reminiscent of  sakura mochi  vanished from sight. Prayed for the day that the strands that drew the same blushed tones of Chrysanthemums were a distant memory as the jade tresses to follow, convinced herself that the day they had faded from the world, so would the memory of being cast aside. Her eyelashes falling to the ends of her hair, whispered to herself that if she could purify all the peculiarities from her existence, then she too would be worthy of matrimony. Of love. The matchmaker had fretted over her, lamented how difficult of a match she would make. The realization, frightened her whispered invasive thoughts, ones that murmured of bitter rejections. Breathe words of abandonment. The clutch of her fingers against her long hair, growing white. Anxious and trembling. The tears that threatened to roll from her cheeks.

                Just as always, when her heart felt heavy, and betrayed thoughts of loneliness and decaying value, you had appeared. Rushed small steps, the perfect delicate sway of your hips as you slid open the shoji doors, quickly announcing your arrival. Your hair slightly askew, evident of your haste to her side. The Kanroji siblings having beckoned her summon, knowing all too well how devastated their sister had been to receive the matchmaker’s scolding. The jerk of her hair, throwing the strands of her hair capturing in her movement. The tears that had fallen caught by the wind. Tremebled under your gaze. The puff of your cheeks, the misplaced cloth and obi at your waste. Forced to dress quickly, Tossed your hair to the side, an unfamiliar sight to Mitsuri. She had always known you of the girl who was the perfect picture of a woman. Coy, quiet, and still, who’s features were perfectly crafted by the gods, and the favor of the moon goddess. Not the girl before her, who’s shoulders rattled through haggard breath, the ache of the weather burning your lungs, trembling fatigue. Your fingers clutching the shoji doors, your sandals abandoned alongside her siblings at the door, the way your feet had stormed down the wood panels. Yet for all the signs of your arrival, she had never imagined you would collapse before her. Tired and out of breath, the small of your frame trembling so unadjusted to exercise. Against your nature, defying every manner that your parents had instilled within your childhood. A figure that reached up, delicately catching the tear that rolled from her cheek, wiping it at her eyelashes. The smolder of your gaze. The warmth of your touch, caressed against her head as you cradled her. Your breast welcoming her sobs, plush against Mitsuri’s face, in a way that hammered her heart against her rib cage. Cooed sweet comforts against her ears, folded her arms around her. Embraced her in a way that she had craved since you had met. Touched upon her cheeks, whispered reassurance. Insisted that for the world, you could defy all odds. Begged her for her touch. Folded fingers over cheeks, Kanroji met the butterflies of her stomach with welcome. Dared to meet your gaze, dared to etch herself across your features. Boldly claimed your lips, pressed against her own. The faint scent of rouge still at the edge of your mouth from the day, quick to smear against her own. Impulse guiding her senses, the desire to touch you as you had implored.

                Her hand met the back of your neck in a hurry, warmed against the cool of your flesh. Slipped beneath your collar, forced kisses that met anxious breath. Mangled and tantalizing. The press of her bed beneath her, the graze of your teeth against her neck. Begging, yearning, and desperate to captivate her. Desperate to hear her. To please, the slip of her kimono giving way beneath your touch. The desperate gasp, as you plunged her hands working against her breast. Her heart beat hammered against her rib cage, met the cup of your fingertips. The blush that captivated her features, brow met over clenched eyelashes. The puff of breaths, and seductive moans as she gave into your touch. The peek of her lavish jade eyes, tempting you to plunge deeper. To caress the peeks of her breast, eagerly awaiting your graze. To greet her nipples over hot breath, to feel her fingers through your hair, caught between desperate cries of the night. To feel her cupped against your own, a tangle of legs. To ruin her, to captivate her, to claim her as your own. For her to know the depths of your love, the love you had fostered over all these years. Years at her side, years listening to her dream of romance so unaware that you were always there, waiting. For her to know her own beauty, to bath in the devotion she desired, to prove to her that love had always been at her fingertips.

Her fingertips captivated your lips. Dutifully pressing the rouge against your features. Carefully averting her eyes, and lingered in a way that reminded you of that very night. Her eyes met against the floor. A forced smile, as though you were not familiar with her melancholy. As though you had not spent many years memorizing the many faces she wore, the masks when her heart was in ruin. That night, you had not pressed further. How your heart craved to do so, desperately longed to, but the memory of her tears upon your arrival had deferred your affections. Not like this, you had whispered to your heart. You had waited so many years for the woman you loved to return your affections, and at the first glimpse that she could harbor such for you as you had for her… not like this. You had told yourself. You had all the time in the world, you had reassured yourself and her. Tucked her into her bedding. Welcomed her embrace amongst the futons, cocooned in an embrace. Her head pressed against her breast. You had prayed that night, for the first time in how many years, you did not know. Did not know that the morning would break you. Did not realize that in the daylight, you would return to your home. Reminded of the duties of a woman of the era, blindsided by your family’s proposal of a matchmaker. Nor did you know that Mitsuri would vanish from your reach. A desire to find herself, her real self. To find a husband who could accept her the way you had. A hashira, her parents had beamed. So oblivious to the way you struggled to breathe, the break of your breath and heart that followed. Unaware that she had evaded your visits intentionally, fearful of what would become of her if she should meet your gaze. Much as she did now. The way her eyes drifted to your own. The smolder, the slight hush of a night shared between the two of you. Warm and inviting,

                “You look beautiful,” the Love Hashira whispered as she finally met your gaze.

                The hammering of your heart aching in a way that could shatter you. Her touch, distant and aching. Trembled finger tips against your lips. Her smile, forced and as bright as the day you had met her. The whites of her teeth exposed, quick to hush any lingering feelings and remove her touch from your own. As though putting up a divide between the two of you, desperate to push you back to your new moniker. Sister, the ache of your heart. Shattered. The tears that now threatened the corner of your eyes, and the sickening ache of your stomach. Shoulders that trembled against the weight of the white fabric. Delicately selected by your mother, she had sung praises of the Kanroji boy, Mitsuri’s disappearance had silenced your disposition. Snubbed out any fight you had left in your bones, only left to insist that you would not bear the bright coloring that some brides did in their joy. No, no you would not. For this day, the day when you would join the Kanrojis was that of mourning. The proof of your refuted love. The distinct hush of the women who had assisted your dressing dismissed and scooted out of sight, Mitsuri turning to bid them farewell. The patter of music, joy that claimed the Kanroji household. Welcoming a new family member, the joining of hearts. Hearts that you did not wish to meet. The furrow of your scowl, a victim to the era.

Mitsuri’s eyes found your own, forced her touch from you. Bit back the sob that threatened, bid herself to pretend that she could not see the tears that caught the corner of your eyes. Weighed against the fates, she had forced her smile. Bumbled reassurance that you were a very beautiful bride, her brother was so lucky. He was, that was true. A confession that she could find comfort in, she was not lying to you by any means. The force of conversation, anxious and nervous as the pounding of her heart. Becoming increasingly aware of the no longer still of your body. The tremble, and choke of a breath that was mangled by gritted teeth. Pressed against rouge that threatened to smear. The uchikake threatening to dishevel despite the pins that had secured it to your mane. The increasing realization that of all the days that you could stare at her in such a way. Demanding. Lingering. Begging. Pushed her gaze to meet the floor, fumbling for any excuse to leave your side. Turned to escape your gaze. Pinned to the place, her hand grasped between firm fingers. Stronger than she had remembered, but just as soft as the touch against her ample flesh that fateful night. The hammering of her heart, and the jerk of her cherry blossom strands caught to the wind. Her eyes wide.

                Your shoulders trembled beneath her sight. Your grasp against her wrist, firm, clutching against her. The pit of your nails near threatening to break skin, all too aware of the hold you had on her. The lure of her heart claimed and the way her mouth dropped. Your still façade, shattered as a glass hair pin that had met the ground. Cracks across against your foundation. Broken and fragmented before her. The heave of your breast, threatened to fall apart before her. Shoulders that met your ears, the shake of your bangs beneath the owl and gritted teeth. “AM I NOT ENOUGH?” The croak of your voice, agony seethed into each word. Strained, gasped, anxious and trembling. Your hold unwilling to fold. Your voice ringing in her ears. The break of a façade you had borne throughout the years. As though a doll broken from rough play, fractured and traumatized. Crushed under the weight of expectations born of your parents, and splintered for the love you dared not utter. Desperately grasping the threads of a romance, you had long captivated, one that she could only return in the dead of the night or under the shade of hagi trees. Hushed gazes, lingering touches, ghosts of all you deserved. Love that should be expressed openly, warmly for all to see. Welcomed and cherished rather than shamed, blissful rather than burdened. Love that should nurture rather than refute… to know the warmth of another without shame was all that you deserved, and was all that she could not provide you with. She had fled your devotion, had wrapped herself in the denial of all she had yearned for, all that you had offered. Tucked away the shy Mitsuri Kanroji she had been, cloaked herself in strength and distance. Reassured herself that time would bring the both of you to your senses. Just as the day she had left her village without bidding you farewell, her resolve trembled. Weary as her fingers met the clasp of your hand at her wrist. Forcing the brightest smile she could manage, even if it meant having to lie to herself. You would be happy. Her brother, your husband was a good man, and he was capable of giving you everything she could not. He would not have to hide his affections. His love could be open and welcoming. As warm as the sun, and the sunflowers that meet their bloom. His adoration for you could be as shameless as the sunflowers that sought to bathe in the glow of the sun. Not like the shadows of a hagi bush.

                “[FN], no.. sister,” she had paused. The word settling unfamiliarly and painful on her tongue. Resolved herself, steeled against the pain the shake of her heart meeting the deafening realization of your star-crossed love. Ill-fated. For her love, for proof of her devotion, she knew what she had to do to relieve you of the burden of her affections. To live a life embraced in love without fear. Her voice trembled, “I hope, you will have a very happy life together.”

                Her words as sharp as the kaiken tucked into your sleeve. The dagger that was intended for protection clearly in adept to defend your heart. Rejection that rattled your heart, seized your bones. Heavy as your heart and burdensome. Her smile wide as the sun, warm and glowing. Something you had longed to press against, now forever out of reach. Never intended to be your own, nor to ever embrace her the way you had prayed for, that you had naively thought could be yours. The weight of your heart sunk to the floors. Your weight threatened to give way, the buckle of your knees trembling. The mourn of your chest, the desperate gasp for air. Mourning etched across your features, robbing you of joy. Robbing you of life, threatened your existence. Longed to be snubbed from the world, to give way. Trembling shoulders, eyes that floated over to the garden. To the maple leaves that would never touch. That would never love each other openly, torn asunder upon the ground. Fated to die in the arms of another to the hagi bush that knew only of your love, the love that you had to hide from view. Mitsuri’s steps heavy. She did not look back. Did not dare to. The growing realization that if she were to do so, she would break tradition. Shatter the security of your world. Threaten you to obscenities, and scandal. Victims of the era, nothing more than secrets tucked under the shadows of day, burdened by the depths of love that could not be returned openly. Only whispered in passing, destined to be shattered by the fates, and left in the cold of the soil. Unable to meet the light of day, nor bask in the warmth of another. A hagi bush that must love another, and it could not be claimed as her own. Nor would it ever leave her.

                No, in another life, she would take you into her arms. She would run her fingers through your hair, to strip the cowl from your brow. To untuck your hair, to see the side of you that no other should claim. To wrap her arms around you, to spirit you away. A runaway bride, to call her own. It would be her to shout her devotion to the world, to live without fear of prosecution. Her to deny expectations of the epoch. To captivate her bride, to kiss upon the tears that threatened to fall, to captivate your lips without fear of being caught. To worship you in the light of day, to draw upon the envy of the sunflowers, who could never know such devotion. It would be her to share your bed, to know every face that you could make. Her name you would cry out in frustrated sorrows, her to deny your release, just desperate to see the cute begs you would plea in her touch. To press against you in away no other could know in the dead of night. Her touch you revered, adored, and begged for over and over. Her to be your undoing, the cause of not a shattered heart, but rather the distress of your undoing. To press into the depths you never revealed to another, to claim upon her own and the breath that escaped your parted lips. Her to feel your quivers, to lick the seat from your shoulders. Her name upon your lips, shamelessly declaring your bond. Her to greet you the morning after, aglow of the devotion you would reveal in night after night, day after day. To know the depths of her love, and drown in the abyss of  devotion. Her life to share along side yours, forever embraced. But in this life, she could only dream of a love lost along the petals of a hagi bush, and turn her back on the girl who had claimed her heart, and that the era would never accept.

[rainingincale]

ok idk if this is just the old color again butshe's soooooooo pretty

I picked a colour directly from this new image so it might be the same? But i honestly dk, i just do my best to try blend everything together but thank you soso much!!! 😁😁

[awrkive]

what crazy stuffs in bed all ur ocs done in bed!!! enough ab the jaykays💔💔 what ab my girls fr

[ nsfw answer ]

you all didnt hear this from me but nb!oc is a freak (said LOVINGLY) no i will not elaborate butshe– *gunshots*JSHDFGJDSHGFJSFGJSJDFHGJSDFGJEYGFJ

tlp!oc has done it on a train lmfao (pls do not ask who it was with (it was with eunwoo aurx))

cnbl oc sex shenanigans was pretty tame until jk came into her life <3 i mean they do it raw like thats actually crazy ijbol

[roachemoji]

Stranger Things - Season 3 thread 03 01

LETS GO GIRLS!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay okay okay starting off strong 1984 i see you i see you all these bald men are so sweaty and shiny and exhausted looking.

OH THE VFX BUDGET WENT UP BABBBEYYY OH LOOK AT THAT SHIT THATS COOL AS FUCK

So El isnt the one who opened the gate OG?? Really sick that they needed that much power to do it only forit to backfire and some little girl could do it with ease - OUFH SORRY TO THE BITCHES WHO JUST GOT EXPLODED

i understand why the bald men are sweaty and exhausted looking

SO WHY DO THEY WANT TO GET IN THERE SO BAD!!!!! OH THIS IS THE RUSSIAN PLOT PART YEAHHH

is this like ....... wanting to win the coldwar type shit??? because we're past the space race and into the 80s.... (<- guy who doesnt know much about this specific subject of history tbh)

EL LOOKS SO GOOD - fucking hate seeing them kiss im so sorry it makes me so uncomfortable - FEELING REAL HOPPER THOUGH LIKE ITS ICKY but also damn KING GIVE UR KID SPACE

i fucking LOVE THE shift in colours in this season !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LIKE ITS SO BRIGHT I LOVE IT!!!! AND STEVEEEE!!!!!! AND I FINALLY GET TO MEET ROBIN!!!!!!!!!!!!

oh this movie is foreshadowing some shit i can feel it. labesq SHIT!!!!!!! AND THEN THE POWER GOING OUT!!!!!!!!!!! this means things my brain is too small to make proper connections

OH SHIT LITTLE ME!!!!!!!

YEAH SEE Lost smoke monster !!!!! somethings thers i just know it

"im not gonna fall in love" "ok"

JOYCE MY BELOVED

booOOOOOBBBBBBBB!!!!!!!!!!!!!

DUSTIIINNNNNNNNNN

<- guy whose just REALLY EXCITED TO SEE THEIR FAV LITTLE MAN

GIRLIES WHO ARE WE LOOKING COOL FOR IM -

thought it waas gonna be gay forgot Billy existed

HOPPER IS ACTUALLY A FUCKING INCEL IM CRYING ITS BEEN LIKE 20 MINUTIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! KING OH MY GOD SHUT UP rooted for you but nah youve really always been like this

A Heart to Heart? What is that? <- man whose never been shown compassion???? WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DONT KNOW WHAT THAT IS shut up

ngl tho me n hopper shaking hands how to you approach people about things without people helping you write shit out word for word

this entire board roOM REMINDS ME OF THE BEGINNING OF SEASON 2 OF FARGO - but she a woman TYPE SHIT AKSHJD

Nancy is. trying so HARD and girl i am so sorry

HIS GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND THE WAY HE TALKS ABOUT HER <3333

Steve. i got nothing to add he just. wow

ROBIN I LOVE HER I L OVE THE PLATONIC RELATIONSHIPS ON THIS SHOW!!!!!!!!!!!!

Its romantic <- jealousy

Its gross <- somehow not jealousy tho sorry

Its bullshit <- jealousy

BRO ARE HE LLO WHAT PIED PIPER SHIT IS HAPPENING???? CRYING AT ALL THE LITTLE CGI GUYS LOOK AT THEM ALL!!!! THEY ALL HAVE LITTLE WHITE FEET THO???? THOSE ARE. exploding. theyre exploding. :(

ENOUGH OF HIM I DONT WANT TO SEE HIM I WANT TO SKIP THROUGH HIS MOMENTS I ACTUALLY HATE HIM SO FUCKING MUCH IM IN. PAIN. LIKE. OU GH. THE. SECOND HAND EMBARASSMENT IS? PAINFUL I HATE THIS I HATE THIS I HATE THIS I HATE HIM I HATE HIM IHATE HIM PHYSICALLY GAGGING

LUCAS AND MAX mAKE me so happy and MAx is still transmasc coded in my heaRTTTTT

DUSTIN BABY IM SO SORRY YOURE HAVING A MY CANADIAN GF MOMENT BUTSHES MORMON AND FROM UTAH

SHOWING MomEnts of Joyce being so happy and gENUINELY IN LOVE WITH BOB JUST HURTS SO MUCH HE WAS SO FUCKING GOOD. RAGE RAGE RAGE RAGE RAGE RAGE RAGE

oh now we have shit with MAGNETS and the spaceship space race cold war babbeyyyy

DISEASE RATS!!!!!!!

HOPPER ASHING ON HIS FACE KING????? OW?????????????????????

This is so uncomfortable bro my dad did this to me once and it was horrifically misguided on his part and he was making some wild ass assumptions about my relationship with certain people and oUGADHADKAJSHAKSJH this isthe season of second hand embarassment and its PAINFUL

MIKE IS JUST MA KING IT WORSE PLEASE SHUT UP I OH MY GOD OH MY GOD I KEEP PAUSING IT BC I CANT HANDLE THIS

HOPPER H ELLO ????

IM

THIS IS

BRO THIS fucking entire season is gonna be so fucking painfULLLL STOP STOP STOP like the. BROOOOO stop stop stop whose got a link to a breakdown of the family dynamics between everyone and how fucked up everyone is i cant even put thi sinto words im just losing my mind hopethis makes sense

SORRY DUSTIN I !!! GOD. PICKING UP RUSSIAN SHIT INSTEAD OF HIS GF SORRY

i literally cant handle this weird Billy fucking Milfs arc and i cant even begin to stress how much i fucking hate it and him. I have literally no room in my heart for that piece of shit

im SORRY to KaREN WHEELER THOUGH LIKE DAMN GIRL your mariage is in shambles and you really want to be fucked by THIS GUY ?

HA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IDIOT FUCKING GET ATTACKED BY FERAL DISEASED RATS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CALLING ALL RATS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

KILL!!!!!!!!!!!!

i know he fucking dies but iM GONAN LOSE MY MIND DOES HE GET FUCKIGN KILLED BY STOPP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP THIS IS SO FUC NNY YEAHH HYEAHHH BABEY FUCKING GET HIS ASSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE

[swiftiefirefighters]

QUINTA SAID ON THE ABBOTT PANEL AT SDCC THEY WERE DOING A CROSSOVER THIS YEAR BUTSHE COULDNT SAY WITH WHAT YET??????

[melancholypancakes]

{Disclaimer: this is fan-made, fan fiction and I don't own black cat at all this is just a "what if" of character scenario}

In Earth-42, there is no spiderman to protect the city of Brooklyn.

Only chaos and crime, however there is one superhero though.

Black cat, unlike other realities of Black Cat, this one became a superhero.

Felicia García, is a down to earth and gothic teenage girl in Brooklyn.

In this universe she attends to Brooklyn Visons Academy like Miles.

Felicia is the daughter of Lydia Hardy & Andrés García.

Lydia Hardy was the black cat burglar ever since she was a young adult but as time went by she fell in love with police officer Andrés García.

Lydia Hardy ended up giving up her life of the Black Cat to be with Andrés.

She revealed to him she was the burglar but wanted to change her ways, if he'll have her.

Andrés embraced her and accepted her, even if she did crimes.

He knew she had a good heart, they both ended up having two children.

Antonio García and Felicia García, Antonio is a military man these days so he's often not at home.

Lydia and Andrés raised their little girl and make sure she has a good life.

Lydia ended up filling a position to work for the Mayor of New York City.

However, Lydia gets murdered by a criminal named crossbones.

Unfortunately, she had a debt to pay for her life when she did burglary and own prople money.

She was survived by her husband and children.

Felicia was mourning and vengeful, but she knew she couldn't bring her mother back.

After Lydia's death, Andrés told Felicia about her mother's work in the past.

Shock by the news, butshe decided after her mother's death she would become Black Cat not a burglar but into a superhero!

To save people, protect New York City and make it safe as it once was all those years ago...

Felicia is friends with Miles Morales along with Gankee, Mike, Ari, Jin, and her best friend Zoe.

Zoe, Antonio and her father are the only ones her know about her secret identity.

Unknown to Felicia, Miles is Prowler and her archenemy.

Felicia love interest is Miles Morales as well as her friend.

Felicia is Miles opposite, as she is warm, loving, kind, always willing to help and selfless.

Black Cat is the only superhero in Brooklyn, she may not be a Spiderman or the perfect superhero like Wonder woman or Batman.

But she does her best and her best is enough.

Black Cat may not be the superhero this universe wanted but she is what they need.

Felicia made her costume herself based off Cat woman, her weapons and belt off Batman.

Felicia favorite foods are pretzels, hot dogs and pizza.

Felicia listens to 80s music, rap, alternative rock, R&B, and hip hop.

Felicia is known to be down to earth, nerdy and comic book reader at school.

As Black Cat she talks seductively, her way of hiding her real voice.

She got the idea from Catwoman in the Batman comics.

{...}

In Earth 1610, Felicia Hardy is a young cat burglar.

Walter Hardy, her father, and her mother Lydia Hardy take her under their wing in crime.

Unfortunately, as Felicia turned into a teenager her father was murdered.

She followed in her father's footsteps after his death to become the cat burglar.

Calling herself, Black Cat to seek vengeance for her father.

However, she soon learned that her father wasn't dead but was in prison.

Her mother covered up the story since he would never get out.

Felicia was upset that her mother lied to her but she couldn't let her father rot in prison.

So, she broke into prison and got her father out of there.

However unknown to her, her father fell into a disease and it was too late for him.

As he succumbed to his disease he told his daughter, "Never settle for less".

She was devastated as she witnessed her father's passing.

Lydia grew bitter after her husband's death and continued Felicia's remaining to be a thief.

With the help of a few mentors to teach her daughter how to fight.

Lydia would work in the shadows, her daughter's guide in crime.

[casually-salad]

cringetober day 13, creepypasta, i drew nina!!!! this one was kind of rushed butshes sillay, prompts are from icryink