#do rebellious things at the mall with my friends why do i have to do all this

[salsflore]

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[lynzishell]

List 5 facts about a favorite sim of yours, and send this to 10 simblrs whose sims you adore 💙

Yay! I'm finally going through my asks, lookit me go! We'll start this week with the winner of the poll... The one and only ✨Dawn Stephens✨

💖She has a Sociology degree from Foxbury Institute. She did not graduate with a high GPA, in fact she barely passed. She’s very smart, but genuinely hates reading and studying. She is the type of person that likes to be up doing things all the time. She struggles to just sit quietly. If she’s going to sit for an extended period of time, then it’s usually to watch a movie or a favorite TV show (with someone else, never alone). Even then, she’ll likely be distracting you the whole time.

💖During college, Dawn dated a lot, and had a lot of relationships that were short lived and full of drama. To be honest, being so heavily neglected growing up had left her desperate for love and affection. Most of the guys she dated wanted to date around and have fun and enjoy their college years, but Dawn would become instantly attached and clingy which would drive them away. It took her a while to work through this phase in her life, to understand why she felt/acted the way she did, and what she really needed. Before meeting Phoenix, she hadn’t dated anyone in nearly a year and was finally in a good place. That coupled with the fact that Phoenix is a very present and attentive partner means we’ve never seen that needier side of Dawn.

💖The necklace that she wears everyday was a gift from her high school best friend, Claire. Feeling rebellious one weekend, the two of them hopped a bus to visit a mall (strictly forbidden, of course). Claire caught her eyeing the necklace and bought it for her. Unfortunately, Dawn was never able to wear the necklace because A – she wasn’t allowed to wear jewelry and B – she would’ve had to explain where she’d gotten it. When she and Atlas left, Claire stopped talking to her, just like everyone else, and they’ll likely never speak again. But wearing the necklace now is kind of a symbol of her freedom from that life.

💖She loves the process of getting her nails done but can’t stand them afterwards. Every once in a while, you’ll see her with long painted nails, but they never last long because she removes them after a few days. (fun fact: she has beautifully manicured nails when she gives birth to Aspen because I forgot to remove them from her swimwear after their Sulani vacation. I didn’t want to risk messing up the childbirth process by going into CAS to fix it… so let’s just say she had her nails done while in labor, cos why not?)

💖There is an intentional inconsistency in the story that I doubt anyone noticed, it’s such a small detail… In this scene, Dawn mentions having a dog growing up: “He was a miniature schnauzer named Snickerdoodle. [giggles] But I would call him DooDoo.” … But then later, in this scene, it’s stated that Atlas has never had a dog: “He’s not used to dogs. In fact, he’s never had a pet of any kind before, so he isn’t sure what to do.” These two grew up in the same home, so what's the deal? Who was Snickerdoodle? This was actually Claire’s dog, and Dawn was absolutely smitten by him and would pretend to herself that it was her dog. (And she did in fact get in trouble once for saying DooDoo.)

[oceanparkmall]

Mall Ghosts | Chapter 1

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~ 2.2k words

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The year was 2002.

I had just turned eighteen. My parents bought the newest iPod for my birthday instead of the cell phone that I had specifically asked for. So I dyed my afro electric teal in protest, but they didn’t care. My kid brother joked that my hair finally matched my name – Aqua.

None of my friends really got to see my so-called rebellious transformation because I lived two cities over and I didn’t have a car to drive yet. 

I begged my mom to let me apply for a modeling gig at the shopping complex where half the senior class hung out, but she said that there was nothing wrong with the mall just off the highway near our house. Her argument was that it was closer to where we lived, on the way to her job, and just as good as the mall across town.

She was right up until the last point. 

Ocean Park Mall was the site where someone managed to rob an entire store. Whoever it was never got caught. Somehow they pulled it off without tripping any alarms. An entire department just completely cleared out. How does that even happen? 

The scandal was big enough to hit the local news. It was a miracle that the mall didn’t get shut down. Still, a whole bunch of businesses packed up and left. Only a handful were left standing. 

Nowadays, it seemed like the only things Ocean Park was good for was escaping the summer heat or grabbing a bite to eat in the 2.5 out of 5 stars food court. Every now and then Ocean Park would hold special events. Things like pop idol meet and greets, book signings, niche culture conventions, and that runway show that my mom signed me up for.

“Aqua Simone Moore,” Mom huffed as she drove me to Ocean Park for my first fitting, “wipe that gloom-and-doom look off your face. You always look so unsatisfied and I cannot for the life of me figure out what is wrong with you.”

I didn’t answer. All I did was slump some more in my seat, which I knew she hated.

Mom narrowed her eyes at me – as if that would do anything – and finally sighed. 

“Aqua, you know your father and I try to give you and your brothers everything that we can.”

But nothing that I ask for, I thought to myself. Just because she and Dad substituted one thing for something else didn’t mean I had to like it. 

Not in a million years would I ever say this to her because that would get me in a world of trouble. Mom would go home and tell Dad and before I knew it, I would be listening to a thousand lectures about how I’m not grateful enough and how they don’t know how I got this way.

Nevermind that I made perfect grades, stayed out of trouble, and almost never asked to go anywhere cool – but who cares when I’m not grateful and looking content whenever they choose to give me alternatives to the things that actually mean a lot to me.

I could have explained to my mom for the umpteenth time why it was important for me to have a cell phone to start keeping up with my friends over the summer before we all went away to college the next year. Or that the reason that I needed to land gigs at Arrow Crest Mall was for similar reasons.

I wanted to be near my friends. I wanted to spend time with them before this part of our lives was all over and we were flung across the country to different campuses. It wasn’t too much to ask for, right?

Apparently it was. 

“Thanks, Mom,” I said when she dropped me off. I tried to put on my best I-promise-that-I’m-one-hundred-percent-grateful smile right before she drove off. 

From the outside, Ocean Park Mall looked like your average shopping complex. Not the kind of place where businesses came to get robbed. But the moment you walked inside, it became clear that Ocean Park was well on its way to becoming a dead mall.

I looked around and sighed.

The first thing I noticed was the outdated paint job from the eighties. My eyes scanned the giant palms that were thoughtfully arranged to give the space a comfortably populated feeling. I followed their trunks up to the vast atrium ceiling. I suspected that the pyramid design usually let in a lot of natural light, but today it was raining. It made the already lonely space feel more like an indoor graveyard.

I wandered over to one of the central fountains and took a seat on the ledge. The sound of rushing water did little to soothe my nerves.

If I had a cell phone right now, I could see if anyone was willing to meet up.

I grumbled the thought aloud, but the truth was, I wasn’t so sure if any of my friends would come all the way out here just to hang with me.

Judging from the conversations I had on my home landline last night, all of my friends had some excuse as to why they couldn’t make it this week.

Work.

Babysitting.

No gas money.

They all seemed pretty legit, but I probably could have gotten one of them to say yes if I pushed hard enough. 

But who wants to work that hard to convince their friends to want to go out their way? I felt like I was good enough to be worth the inconvenience. At least, I did before going into each of those conversations.

I wrapped my arms around my bare shoulders and did my best to not look as pitiful as I felt. After glancing around to make sure that no one was looking, I bowed my head and let my anxiety consume me.

There was a strong chance that I knew some of the kids that hung out at Ocean Park. Some of them probably even worked here. I used to attend the middle school in this area before my parents enrolled me in the charter school on the other side of town. 

I hadn’t kept in touch with anyone since I left. I wasn’t the only one from that feeder school who didn’t opt to go to the nearest high school. From what I gathered, transfer kids like me were considered stuck up. As if I had a choice in where my parents decided to send me to school. 

I prayed that no one recognized me. Maybe I would be lucky and no one from my old school would cross my path. 

But that was very hopeful thinking.

“Aqua?”

My head lifted automatically without even realizing that my worst fear had already come to pass. I hadn’t even been here for five minutes before someone recognized me. 

“Uh, yeah?” I said without thinking twice. The last thing I needed was someone thinking there was something wrong with me.

“Whoa, it really is you. Your hair was black in the headshots you sent, so I wasn’t sure.”

I stood up, realizing that I was talking to one of the designers. When it came to these small business boutiques, it was very important to get to know your designer as best as one could. This person had sort of shaggy, dirty blond hair with a natural redness to her cheeks and lips. When she smiled, I was hit with a wave of breath mints.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you wait,” I said, jutting out my hand to shake the designer’s. She was about four inches shorter than me. I wasn’t that tall for a model – only five feet, seven inches. 

“Nice to meet you…” I said, shaking her hand sincerely but not knowing how to address her.

“It’s Elliot!” She said brightly. Then craned her neck a bit and added, “Wow. You have really great bone structure. Your pictures are awesome, but they don’t do you justice.”

I gave her a genuine thank you and couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“Everyone says that when they meet me.”

Elliot let go of my hand. “Well, it’s true! I’m excited to work with you. And don’t worry about being late. I’m totally early. You can come with me now if you don’t mind helping me open up?”

Most of the mall stores weren’t open yet and I wasn’t about to hang out in an empty food court, so I agreed to tag along. Plus, I already felt comfortable around Elliot. I was curious to learn more about her point of view as a designer. 

As it turned out, she hadn’t had her store up for very long. She said that she was just starting out in the business and renting out a space in Ocean Park was the best decision financially.

“I mean, I know this place is supposed to be haunted or whatever. But I just don’t have that many options, you know what I mean?”

I was doing just fine listening to her until she said the word haunted.

Elliot must have seen the look on my face because she snorted and said, “C’mon, Aqua. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard the rumors? What with that store getting robbed and no one having a single clue who did it or how they even pulled it off? Everyone’s saying it was probably a ghost.”

Based on her tone, I’m guessing that no one actually believed this rumor. Not even her.

I did my best to laugh along with Elliot as I helped her unlock the padlock to the store and pull back the gates. While Elliot was lifting the metal curtain, I noticed someone coming around the corner.

This person wasn’t wearing shoes.

Or a shirt for that matter. Just a pair of dark denims.

I blinked, trying not to stare. But that was impossible.

A guy with dark shoulder-length hair walked past us. He was close enough to me that his shoulder swept some of my teal curls to the side. He seemed pretty damn confident for someone walking around shirtless inside a shopping mall, but there was a shadow hanging about him as well. As if he barely registered that he was walking so close to us.

“Morning, Sean,” Elliot said in a voice that suggested this wasn’t the first time this had happened. 

The six-foot dark cloud of a boy had already passed by us, but he stopped sort of abruptly and looked over his shoulder.

His eyes scanned us once, lingering on me just a hair longer. As if he was trying to figure out who the hell I was.

“Uh, yeah. Good morning.” His brows came together in the faintest degree of frustration. “Um…”

“Elliot!” The shop owner chimed, clearly finding Sean’s spaced-out reaction quite endearing. Then she clapped me on the back and said, “And this is Aqua. She’s going to be working my looks in the runway show next month.”

Sean blinked a couple of times. I wondered if he had even heard of a fashion show before. That’s how clueless he looked.

“Right.” Sean’s eyes had finally cleared in understanding. “See you then, I guess. Um… Elliot.”

Elliot snapped her fingers and shot Sean a wink. “Yeah you will!”

The muscles in Sean’s face eased a bit. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was something pretty close.

“And... Aqua.” 

I don’t know if he did this purposely, but Sean turned slightly at the waist when he said my name so that his chest was facing me.

“See you around.”

He almost made it sound like a question. 

I honestly can’t remember what I said. Probably just “yeah.” Nothing memorable, witty or cute, that was for sure.

When the guy had left, I asked, “Who was that and why did you make him talk to us?”

Elliot gave a heartfelt chuckle as she flicked on the lights to her shop.

“That was Sean Mori. Sorry, but I absolutely could not help myself. He’s hilarious and adorable and I had a sneaking suspicion that meeting you would get him to say something other than, ‘Uh hey.’”

For a second, Elliot embodied Sean’s particular flavor of spacey-hot-mess when she imitated him. Then the designer broke character and flashed me a sly grin. “Turns out I was right.”

I scoffed as I followed Elliot to the checkout counter and leaned on the corner while she set up the register.

“Please. He didn’t even smile. He was totally checked out with both of us.”

Elliot snickered and shook her head, but she didn’t try to prove me wrong. 

“What is up with that guy anyway?” I said, thinking back to Sean’s lean muscle definition. He wasn’t a Greek god or anything, but… I liked what I saw. “I mean, who were we talking to just now?” 

“Well, Aqua, if the rumors about this place are true,” Elliot closed the register and sighed, “then you just met our resident ghost buster.”

[aizenat]

I’m at a point where my sympathy for women who choose to do that shit too is dwindling. I had this thought the other day about how everyone these days are so COMMERCIAL.

Everyone acts like they’re a model in a commercial. Gotta have perfect skin, perfect hair, perfect makeup, perfect body, etc. And because of that, the rebellious spirit of youth is completely gone. Kids have always struggled to fit in and at least previous generations had fucking alternative subcultures to seek solace in. But that doesn’t exist today! Fucking marvel is calling Joe Locke in Agatha goth! Bitch where???!!!!!! Black eyeliner, nail polish, and a black hoodie over ripped jeans is not fucking goth! I feel like I’m in 2007 having the whole goth vs emo debate again! Like hello? If anyone wearing those things immediately made them goth then me and my friends in hs were super goth (we weren’t; we couldn’t even afford to dress like the emo kids we were lol)!

Kids don’t rebel anymore! They don’t sneak out to meet boys and girls. They don’t skip classes to smoke behind the football stands or hang out at the mall. They don’t read books their parents would clutch their pearls at. They don’t read dark and macabre shit like Edgar Allen Poe and Stephen King. They don’t dye their hair black and take selfies licking knives or lying on train tracks with black and white filters over them. They don’t let their nail polish chip and let their vans get scuffed, and steal their parents’ liquor and shoplift from the drug store after school or loiter around stores until managers kick them out. They don’t steal each others boyfriends or get in screaming matches in the middle of the hallway. They don’t rebel in anyway that isn’t hyper consumeristic (Sephora kids) or melting down over not having their iPads.

And so they all have to be commercial. Bright eyed and marketable so brands will pick them to push their useless products. And this has trickled into celebrity culture too. Where are the rebellious nepo babies like the Osborne siblings with their filthy mouths and regular looking bodies in a sea of Hollywood skinny celebs? Where are the Pinks singing about not wanting to be a stupid girl? Where are the Ciaras with a tomboyish style so they can DANCE (other than twerking)? Fuck even Jeffree Star (MySpace era; not yt era) had an appeal at one point because he was an androgynous man with bright neon pink hair and eyebrows with emo makeup and styling.

This lack of rebellion means everyone gets in the industry and just falls in line. Fuck a rebel. A REAL rebel (if one of you mention that white girl from the Midwest with constant foot in mouth syndrome I will smite you with the power of 2000s linkin park, my chemical romance, and limp bizkit istg); everyone just has to be perfectly commercial. It’s why ice blew up despite being incredibly untalented.

And it’s why these girls enter the industry and just immediately be like “oooh lemme get plastic surgery so I can look like every other bbl having ig model/baddie these niggas wanna fuck; that’ll sell records!” Which is insane because female rappers marketing to women over marketing to men will go a LOT farther. So who are you doing it for? And don’t say yourself because you would love yourself if someone didn’t tell you not to. So who told you and why are you listening to them instead of going “you know what? I’m good as I am. Fuck you, I ain’t changing for a hater.” Yall rapping about opps and fucking getting cut open and starving and working out like crazy and taking ozempic and lying about it just to what? Hope some nigga in the industry will collab with you?

Ain’t no way fucking with fake tits and ass feels good. Ain’t no way that nose job helping you with your breath control. No way them veneers helping you eat better. Like be for real. The industry/society told you to conform and you did like sheep. It’s so hard to take the boss bitch/I’m that girl messages to heart when I don’t believe you. If someone told you you laughed weird, you’d change it. Someone told you a certain color looked bad on you, you’d stop wearing it. Someone says they hate your natural hair, you become addicted to the buss downs.

You’re literal sheep. Shepherd says go here and you say baa baa shepherd say less.

And then if someone calls this behavior out, people want to fight to the death for their right to conform to what society says without question. Fight to the death for their god given American right to buy products they don’t need and cosmetic surgeries they don’t need (and don’t know the long term effects and consequences of) with the lie of “I’m doing it for myself.”

No desire to redefine beauty standards by daring to be different. No interest in questioning why we as women are expected to do all this while men aren’t. Head empty other than a repeating mantra of how it’s for you, and there’s nothing wrong with wanting to spend thousands of dollars radically and fundamentally changing how you look. It’s totally not self hatred to the highest degree that you should be spending those thousands on therapy unpacking instead of plastic surgery. None of it. Just a dread of feeling like you HAVE to do it, it’s “maintenance,” but yet don’t question why you feel you HAVE to do it.

I need real rebels in music again. Tired of all the perfectly curated, well manicured, conformists masquerading as revolutionary. I need heavy metal and pop rock and messy hair and super thick eyeliner and girls wearing leather jackets over baggy tripp pants and band shirts back. I need rebellion back. I need girls who are willing to fight back against standards and say fuck you to anyone expecting them to change. I need the women who would gag at the idea of conforming to be like Britney back. I need the women rapping about Escalades (the Bentleys the hummers the Benz) instead of sucking dick and their fat asses. Give me Gwen Stefani and her Alice in wonderland esthetic trying to motivate herself talking about whatcha waiting for! Give me Ciara talking about sometimes I wish I could act like a boy. Give me Hayley screaming once a whore you’re nothing more I’m sorry that’ll never change. Give me a rock band singing so darken your clothes and strike a violent pose about the youth.

Fucking give me REBELLION. I need these modern girls to fucking get off their knees AND STAND THE FUCK UP.

[trensu]

Okay I finally have a moment to type up the actual scene this music inspired in my mind.

People wouldn't expect it, but Eddie at his core is a romantic. He can't help it. He can never love anything halfway. Which is fine when it comes to dnd and his guitar! Not so much when it comes to falling painfully hard for the straightest boy in Indiana. It really isn't fair that Steve Harrington is hot AND a good guy AND secretly a huge dork AND great with kids. Like, who said that was allowed?? How are queer guys like Eddie expected to cope with that???

And the thing is, Eddie can't NOT express his affection when he cares about someone. It's not in his nature. Uncle Wayne raised him in a loving household, after all. Eddie, however, is also not an idiot despite what his repeated senior years might imply. He's got some self-preservation skills! So obviously he doesn't tell Steve he's in love with him. He knows Steve wouldn't beat him up over it but humiliation and heartbreak would happen no matter how nicely Steve let him down. Eddie doesn't think he'd survive it.

He's flopped on his bed, completely and utterly stumped as to what to get Steve. Steve can get anything he wants, really. And to make matters worse, he's never really expressed any actual wants. No new clothes, or accessories, or sports toys or anything else. Not that Eddie could afford to get him anything really good, even if Steve had mentioned wanting something. He smothers himself with his pillow. Why was life so hard? Hasn't he suffered enough? He just needs one idea. Any idea at this point!

"I'm a poor boy," Eddie singsongs dejectedly. "No gift to bring that's fit for a king." That stupid christmas carol is stuck in his head Gareth thought he was so funny, banging away at his drums, humming it during practice today. Eddie grumbles into the pillow that has yet to suffocate him. "Guitars are cooler than drums anyway."

...wait.

Eddie bolts upright.

--

"Heya Gertie," Eddie chirps, leaning on the circulation desk. The severe old woman stares at him flatly. Of all the librarians, she was Eddie's favorite.

"It's Ms. Robinson," she says, voice cold and crisp.

"But Gertie, my love--!"

"Did you need anything, Mr. Munson, or are you only here to waste my precious and finite time on this Earth?"

"Oh Gertie, I'm sure you'll outlive us all! Just as my ardent love for you will outlive the sun," Eddie grins beatifically. Ms. Robinson's face might as well have been carved from granite. She turns purposefully to the returns cart. "Okay, okay, yes! I need your help, Ms. Robinson. It is of utmost importance."

Ms. Robinson turns back to face him, completely professional and yet still exuding an aura of having much more important things to do than to assist mere mortals. Eddie raps his rings against the desk, fidgety in his eagerness. He quickly stuffs his hands in his pockets at the sharp twist of her mouth in response to his noise.

"I have a friend who's really in to the Nutcracker - yes, I know, I'm shocked too. But who has the money to buy that kind of music on cassette these days? Not me, that's for sure," Eddie says, batting his eyes innocently. "And I thought to myself, Eddie-boy, being the good, law-abiding youth and upstanding Hawkinite that you are, you should make use of your local library!" Ms. Robinson does not look impressed. He leans to whisper conspiratorially, "And, alright, I'll confess. The nearest music store was at the mall, which tragically burnt down - I had nothing to do with that, Ms. Robinson, you know arson is not my style - so the five-finger discount is unfortunately no longer an option."

Eddie knows, in his heart, that Ms. Robinson has a rebellious streak. And also that she's probably killed a man with textbook perfect technique and gotten away with it. So that flicker of a smirk that crosses the old librarian's face was definitely not a trick of the light.

"Follow me, Edwin."

"Oh come on, I haven't called you Gertie in a whole five minutes, you can't Edwin me in public," Eddie whines, as he follows close at her heels.

"It's been, at maximum, three minutes, Edwin."

--

Eddie plays the tape ceaselessly over the next couple of weeks. Every time, he remembers how timidly Steve had spoken about it when they were both shitfaced and trying their best not to think of monsters.

"It's the last time I remember us doing anything as a family," Steve had muttered quietly. "The last Christmas that felt like a Christmas, yknow?"

"Before the Santa reveal, I'm assuming," Eddie had teased him. Steve nodded unsteadily.

"Oh yeah, I was only like seven or something? Dad got us tickets to go see the Nutcracker and Mom was so excited. She loves ballet."

"I've never seen it," Eddie had shrugged. Steve lit up.

"It's kinda cool. I mean, I was excited because Mom was excited but then when the show started...the music was...! And everyone moved so much but not out of control? It was...everything looked real pretty, y'know? Like magic," Steve's exuberance became wistful. "And Mom and Dad were happy. It was nice."

Eddie's heart had thumped painfully in his chest at the softness of Steve's voice and the yearning that lingered in his dimming smile.

"Later Mom tried to enroll me in ballet. And, I was just a kid, right, but I wanted to be able to move like they did. Make Mom smile as much as they did. Dad didn't let her. He said it wasn't right for a boy to do that and I didn't get it because there were boys on stage at the show...I was just a dumb kid, though. Didn't know any better. Dad said I had to be in real sports."

Steve had trailed off at that point and the topic changed when he returned his mind to the conversation. Eddie didn't forget that quiet moment of vulnerability, though.

So he played the cassette. Over and over, with his sweetheart in his hands and a notepad at his side. Obviously he couldn't perform the entire Nutcracker suite. He didn't have a freaking orchestra, and that kind of music wasn't really his style anyway. But he had his badass guitar and a stubborn mind.

As the days went by, he slowly pieced together an accompaniment, chord by chord. He isn't sure how well it will turn out but he thinks it won't be too bad since Max only came by to threaten him over his noise twice. And the second time she asked if he was gonna be playing it at the Hideout, so it barely counted.

--

Steve has gone to the Hideout to watch Eddie's band perform exactly two times. The first time was because Robin insisted on celebrating her birthday there. Steve vowed to never go again because, as he told Robin at the time, it really wasn't his scene.

But also? It had been an unseasonably hot night for spring and air conditioning was a foreign concept for a place like the Hideout; so Steve had to watch a shirtless Eddie perform as the stage light gleamed off the sheen of sweat that had dampened his whole damn torso. Running from demodogs hadn't made Steve's heart beat so fast and hard as seeing that did. He knew he wouldn't survive an encore. And yet.

The second time happened only a week after the first once Steve broke and confessed to Robin about his possible bi-wakening, though he insisted it was probably a fluke, right? All guitarists are hot regardless of gender, right?? Everyone's attracted to guitarists! Sexuality doesn't even matter when it comes to them! He's pretty sure it's science. Robin had looked at him like he was insane. She then dragged them both back to the Hideout ("for science, Steven. Gay Science. The most important kind of science."). Eddie wore a crop top that time, which was somehow even better worse and Steve got zero sleep that night and a mild case of carpal tunnel because of it.

(Eddie had bounced up to them after the show and eagerly asked what they thought. Steve had made some snarky comment that made a flash of hurt cross Eddie's face, which Steve immediately hated. He hurriedly added that he wouldn't know any better anyway because he's not really big on music. Eddie threw his head back in a laugh before flinging an arm around him, crowing "you uncultured swine; good thing you're so pretty, Stevie, you can get away with it." Steve knows he didn't mean it but he replayed Eddie calling him pretty over and over in his mind for days after. Robin called him pathetic.)

After that second time, Steve really stuck to his guns about not going back. It's been months, and he was gonna try for making that a year, he really was, but Robin was weirdly insistent they go to the Hideout tonight.

"C'mon, Steve! It's Christmas, you have to!"

"It's the first week of December, I don't have to do shit," Steve retorts. Robin gets huffy before giving him a sly look.

"Eddie's been complaining how they haven't been able to draw a crowd lately."

Steve thought of the way Eddie's bambi eyes dimmed when the world decided to be unfair, even as he pasted on a defiant grin and gave it the middle finger. He wavered. Of course Robin noticed and latched on to that because having a soulmate sucked sometimes.

"I thought he could use some friends there. Show some holiday spirit," Robin continued. "But if you want to be a Scrooge about it, fine."

Steve groaned. "I hate you so much right now."

"What was that? 'I love you, Robin, you're the absolute best most amazing person in the world?' Steve, you're so sweet it sickens me."

Steve shoves her. "Go get your hearing checked, Buckley."

Which is how, on Wednesday night, Steven finds himself at the Hideout with Robin for the third time. It was going surprisingly well. There was a moderate sized group of spectators, so he's not sure what Robin was going on about before. Eddie was wearing layers, which was a relief for Steve's poor bisexual heart. Steve was feeling confident he'd survive the night emotionally unscathed for once.

The set was done and the band was packing up. Steve was ready to grab a drink and find some way to compliment Eddie's musical ability, even though he still didn't really get it. He turns to head back to the bar but Robin grabs him by the arm.

"Wait, look!" she points to the stage.

Steve turns to see Eddie dashing back on stage and grabbing the mic.

"Alright everybody, I put together a little something to make things a bit more festive in this shithole," Eddie laughs as the crowd jeers him in good fun. "Yeah yeah, the guys are in the back making fun of me too, but I'm not leaving this stage 'til I'm ready, so you all gotta deal."

He goes to fiddle with one of the speakers where he hooks up a walkman after putting a cassette in it. Once that was done, he takes a moment to tune his guitar. Then one of the band members (Gareth, Steve thinks) runs out, jams a hat over Eddie's mop of curls, and takes off cackling as Eddie swipes at him. It was a green hat with felt elf ears and seeing Eddie in it was unbearable in a different but equally difficult way as seeing him in that croptop was. It's not cute, he tells himself firmly. Not cute at all.

"I don't even like this type of elf, asshole," Eddie shouts after Gareth, but adjusts the hat so it's not slipping off and grins. "Whatever. Okay. I've been working on this one for ages, so none of you are allowed to boo me or I'm pelting you with coal, got it?"

The crowd laughs and Eddie hits play. He adjusts his hold on his guitar as the opening strains start up. About half a minute in, Eddie starts to play.

It shouldn't work, Steve thinks in awe as he watches Eddie's fingers roam the strings and frets of the guitar. Steve doesn't know much about music, but he was obsessed with this particular music when he was kid. It was one of the few things that made his mom smile. He knows what it's supposed to sound like and adding an electric guitar to it shouldn't work.

And yet, as Eddie starts to really get into it, it melded together almost like magic. Eddie doesn't miss a single beat or fumble a single chord, even as he started to move across the stage in time with the music, adding little twirls and flourishes on the fly simply for the fun of it. In the moments of the song where he wasn't actively playing, Eddie pretended to conduct an orchestra, to Steve's utter delight.

When the number is finished, Steve claps the loudest and he wasn't even embarrassed. Of course he still has to down two shots of liquid courage before he can let Robin drag him back to where the band was cooling down. There was no way he'd survive thanking Eddie for that show sober.

--

Eddie is catching his breath backstage. His nerves were crackling from the high that came from completely nailing a song from start to finish; when each note flowed from his mind to his fingertips to his six-string and into the ears of a waiting audience. He did it. He made something with his own two hands and performed it. He totally rocked it.

"Eddie!"

Eddie spins around to see Steve stumbling to a stop in front of him. He had the hazy eyes and blush of the happily tipsy. He leans close, smiling wide and kinda dorky. Eddie is completely arrested by the sight.

"Eddie, that was, uh," Steve pauses and lets out an incredulous giggle. "Don't tell anyone, but I love the Nutcracker."

Eddie remembers Steve was pretty trashed when he shared that secret the first time. He decides to go along with it.

"No shit?" Eddie says with a grin. "You're more cultured than I thought, Harrington."

Steve laughs again. "Yeah, right? But I really liked what you did with it! It was cool."

Eddie pulls a bit of his hair over his mouth, jostling the stupid elf hat Gareth stuck him with. He could feel his face heating up. Steve liked the thing he made, the thing he made for Steve even if Steve doesn't know it; and it was making his heart stupid.

"You really think so?"

"Yeah, man! It was way cool and, uh, metal. Yeah, it was very metal."

Steve is obviously proud of his word choice. He looks like a puppy, eager to please. Eddie felt his heart skip. He didn't even like dogs. He ducks his head because he knows his smile is too big to hide behind his hair alone now. His hat nearly tumbles off his head, but Steve makes a surprised sound and grabs it before it comes off entirely.

"Your hat! Here, let me..."

Eddie is struck momentarily dumb as Steve runs his fingers through Eddie's hair to smooth it down. He fusses with the hat, a cute little frown of concentration gracing his mouth. Eddie is riveted. Steve leans closer, making a small sound of frustration as the hat continues to be uncooperative.

"I think there's a pin in it," Eddie says, in a daze.

"Huh?"

"A pin. Somewhere. Uh, when Gareth put it on me. Felt like I got stabbed in the head with something."

Steve's fingers dug in more purposefully along the hat until Eddie felt that jab again. Eddie hisses as Steve pulls the thing out.

"Oh," Steve breathes, squinting at what he held in his hand. Then he beams. "Mistletoe!"

Sure enough, Eddie looks over to see the twig of mistletoe Steve had somehow magicked out of Gareth's ridiculous hat. Eddie immediately starts making plans to murder Gareth at the soonest opportunity. They can find a replacement drummer easy. Probably.

"Haha, that Gareth," Eddie says pointedly, glaring over Steve's shoulder where Gareth was chatting with the others and pretended to not hear him. "What a fucking joker he is. Obviously we don't gotta-"

And what they don't gotta promptly flees from his mind when Steve (very tipsy Steve, Eddie reminds himself in a panic) steps closer and gives him a very sweet, slightly damp, kiss on the cheek. Eddie thinks Steve lingers a bit but Eddie also is half convinced he's having some sort of adrenaline-crash hallucination so who knows?

"It's tradition," Steve says with a bashful shrug. He finishes fussing with the hat, and pats Eddie's head. He says in a whisper Eddie is fairly certain he hadn't meant to say out loud, "Eddie the Best Elf."

Eddie thinks he can die happy now.

--

Steve eventually finds out Eddie made that music specifically for him, and when christmas rolls around, Wayne Munson finds himself celebrating it with not just his beloved nephew but with Eddie's utterly besotted boyfriend, too.

Eddie and his band play A Mad Russian's Christmas because Eddie knows how much Steve loves Christmas but he wanted to make sure he added some of his own flair to it to impress Steve.

[vanibear]

i know. realistically. logically. there are many ppl older than me on this website. But still for some reason when i see someone like. go to college. or have access to alcohol. or like. have a job. or just do normal things an adult does My brain does a double take and cant seem to process that Huh? not all my mutuals are Sixteen ?the same age as Me ??

[phoenixyfriend]

Not Just a RomCom: CodyWan AU

This actually did start out as a vaguely normal modern AU but then we all got distracted. Set up with help from @bytebun and @catboydogma.

Single dad Obi-Wan has a pottery studio. (Technically he's parenting his siblings, but he believes he deserves the Respect of a successful single parent.)

Anakin is, as per usual, just. Being incredibly rebellious and uncooperative with Obi-Wan's attempts to be a parent. Anakin, on a rebellious streak (number eighteen of the year) decides to skip out on Obi-mandated college application hours. Yes he wants to be an engineer, but Obi-Wan's pressuring him right now, and he does not want to do what Obi-Wan wants him to do, even if the thing Obi-Wan wants him to do is meant to help Anakin do what he wants to do. Anakin uses his sudden free time to go to the mall and, seeing a pop-up stall for modeling, decides to give it a shot. He's a pretty guy, he can probably do this, right? Can't be that hard!

(You know. He's eighteen. Maybe nineteen. It's that age.)

(Also it is VERY hard.)

Enter Cody, who is not technically, in and of himself famous… but he is the top modeling agent in the country, by virtue of having sourced and negotiated all of Bly's top runway and editorial models, and the guy who is now 'discovering' Anakin Skywalker.

I feel like there's a specific energy to amputee male model Anakin Skywalker and I like it very much.

I was just. Rolling around 'people of similar ages and maturities who have vastly different life experiences, and going 'hm, this is why power/maturity differences are a way bigger issue with teens and early twenties but way less of an issue in middle-aged people.'

Obi-Wan isn't a Big Name With Big Responsibilities, but he has been more or less single-handedly raising his brother and sister. Like yeah his friends and stepsister help out sometimes, but he's been doing this mostly alone since he was twenty-five. He also runs a small business as an artist/creator, and does all the management for it (taxes, advertising, insurance) himself.

Meanwhile, Cody helped out with his own younger siblings, but he was never the primary adult in their lives, and he's got a position that works around communications and networking, and a lot of the management bits get delegated, so it's…. IDK

It's a weird balance that does work out but it feels very odd and strange to both of them at first, especially because there's a Big Difference in financial statuses and the whole 'you are my little brother's new boss, sort of.' I think they initially connect over the parenting-younger-siblings aspect of their lives.

I'm torn between "he does plates and bowls on a wheel" and "he does insane custom fantasy pieces like overly detailed dragons."

Come enjoy this completely normal romcom [take note of the dragons they will be important later]

I do know that, whichever it is, he does classes, including "Wine and wheel" nights where people come in on dates to take a pottery class while tipsy. It's like drunk painting nights.

I want Cody taking Obi-Wan out on the fanciest dates, like the kind of NYC restaurant where an entree is $200. Sometimes dinner turns into "bitching about Anakin" sessions.

Obi-Wan: I cannot help you. Cody: You raised him. Obi-Wan: Yes. But you are the one who signed a contract to keep him around. You made this bed. Lie in it.

"I inherited this can of worms. You grabbed it off the shelf, paid in full, and were then surprised that there were worms."

Side note I've decided that the head of his legal department is Padme. She and Rex (IDK what his actual job is?) are in competition to gain Anakin's affections. IDK how legal that is but Padme probably ensured it was fine before she got involved.

Alternately, Rex is a fellow model (he's using it to pay for college) and he can flirt with Anakin as much as he wants (which is usually not that much), and Padme can't.

She wants to! Anakin is flirting with her! But. Legally. She can't. (Yet.)

Padme: Until your position has been secured in such a way that I cannot influence it, I cannot date you. Anakin: 🥺

And now we get to the part where it is... not just a RomCom.

Because I was... trying VERY hard not to talk about The Last Dragon chronicles (you know, The Fire Within, etc.). And then I did. And now it's part of this AU.

Quiet subplot to the entire romance and Anakin's modeling journey is the fact that Obi-Wan and Ahsoka are just making sapient dragon statues to hand out to their friends.

Obi-Wan: Okay Cody, as a symbol of my affection, here is a statue of a dragon. It's got some props that are related to your passions. It survives on your love. Cody: Aw, that's cute. Thanks. Cody, that night: [hears some small scraping noises and weird shuffling] Cody: [looks up and sees the dragon statue moving] Cody, whispering: what the fuck

HE THOUGHT HE WAS IN A ROMCOM WHAT IS THIS

Anakin is not very good at the dragonmaking. He tries, for Rex and Padme, but he's. Not very good at it, at least not compared to his siblings. Ahsoka has to go through it with him, step by step, so the dragons are Worth Giving.

They gotta be perfect.

Obi-Wan definitely makes other things as well but the Dragons are absolutely magical. (Vases and plates and whatnot are easier to sell, though.)

The one he made for Anakin (right after Qui-Gon and Shmi died) has a cyborg arm, because it just felt right. Ten years later, Anakin lost his arm in a freak accident, and everyone was like oh.

I feel like Obi-Wan's dragon might actually have a shield? Because he defines himself in large part around protecting and raising his siblings. His dragon is also less 'dragon' and more 'Boga the varactyl.'

Cody's needs to be something about connection and networking, since his whole thing in this AU is making connections and figuring out how to put people where they need to be. I'm partial to a spiderweb hanging from the end of the statue's raised tail, and also he's got a tie on.

Padme's comes with a fountain pen. Rex's has jaig eyes and feathered wings. Unrelated, I do think he's studying to be a social worker.

I'm not entirely sure what I want Ahsoka's role to be, insofar as what about her is reflected in the statue. I think I'm going to say she's a skater girl, so her dragon has a board and knee/elbow pads? Or possibly a paintbrush. IDK. Still poking her open.

A giant eastern dragon statue that watches over the house from a central location as a vestige of Great-Grandpa Yoda. It is in fact bigger than Yoda himself. It's one of those incredibly long and complicatedly coiled ones.

I think I really enjoy Anakin being just. Really bad at clay stuff compared to Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. Ahsoka is happily being primed to take over the family business one day.

What Anakin does eventually turn out to be incredibly, terrifyingly good at is steampunk dragon automatons.

Like this but it's real and it moves:

(Source)

And you assume it's just like. A windup toy? And it is... when you're looking. If you look away (or it trusts you), it moves on its own. When Anakin's dragons move, everyone just assumes there's a battery or something.

Anakin's just really excited that he can continue the family tradition but like in his own way. Fuck knows he can't really do anything on his siblings' level with clay, but he can do clockwork.

It's the GG fan in me popping out, nothing is cooler than steampunk automata with minds of their own.

[makeste]

sleep is for the weak lol the cover for the 6th light novel is out.

every cell in my body is alive right now.

let’s just get right to the point here: Bakugou. Eri. Bakugou and Eri. Bakugou standing next to Eri. while she carefully mimics his hunched hands-in-pockets posture and baggy shirt aesthetic. it’s finally happened, everyone. the two of them have met and sized each other up and decided to become best friends. later today they are going to the mall and hitting up Build-A-Bear.

Aizawa is trying to size up the situation and decide whether Bakugou’s influence is gonna be a net good overall. Eri’s been going through a bit of a rebellious phase ever since Tokoyami bought her that sword. on the one hand he really would rather not have his seven-year-old running around saying “fuck” every third sentence, but on the other hand it’s good she at least picked a role model who has the same bedtime as her.

Sero being on the cover is amazing!! it’s finally your time!! I hope he gets a whole chapter all to himself. I wonder who that mystery character is standing behind him.

loving the fact that Momo is here as well. also Tokage. someone who’s better at Japanese than I am can maybe tell me if this is possibly some sort of pun about her name being Setsuna, and them all celebrating Setsubun. I know the kanji are different so it’s a long shot, but I just really want to experience the thrill of uncovering a Horikoshi pun just once in my life. anyways, good to see she didn’t let that defeat in the JT arc get her down, and that she and Momo are having regular get-togethers where they bond over being elite U.A. recommendation students who are better and smarter than everyone else.

Shouto, also an elite U.A. recommendation student, was told to smile at the camera and honestly had every intention of doing so, truly. but then he saw this really tiny sakura petal and was all “I think I can catch that on my nose.” and then he did.

Deku is trying so hard to be the most adorable character on the cover now that Eri’s new life coach is teaching her how to make thug expressions. he hasn’t succeeded yet (Deku, that is; Bakugou is well on his way to helping Eri master the thug face catalog already), but he’s still pretty goddamned adorable.

the title is 泣かない赤鬼？ -- “the red demon that doesn’t cry?”, or something like that. the description/preview blurb over on Shueisha’s site mentions Setsubun, which means this takes place in early February of their first year. so r.i.p., hopes of getting some post-war-arc hospital antics. although you never know, maybe the story will jump ahead towards the end of the book. and if not there’s always vol. 7 I suppose.

so getting back to Setsubun, that’s the bean-throwing holiday that Eri got confused about and was trying to celebrate during the Christmas party. Setsubun is basically about ringing in the end of winter and the beginning of spring (based on the lunar calendar, hence why it falls in February).

anyway so fun fact, while the main tradition associated with Setsubun involves purifying your home by throwing beans outside the front door and chanting “demons out, good luck in”, there are plenty of other traditions, including one in which someone dresses up like an oni/demon and tries to scare the children and then the children throw beans at them lol. the reason I bring this last bit up is because the preview blurb mentions Bakugou taking on the oni role here. so basically what I’m saying is that if you buy this book, you can read all about Eri pelting Bakugou with roasted soybeans. anyway so yeah, this is the best timeline, you guys.

and on that note I think I’ve run out of things to say now, except that it’s killing me that we still have to wait until next month to get the official English release of light novel #5, let alone this one. this might be the first of the BnHA light novels I actually wind up purchasing in Japanese. I am seriously considering it lol. please inject this novel into my veins.

[taechaos]

Freaky Idea

Pt. 2 of New Idea

pairing: Stepbrother!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

genre: oneshot, pseudo-incest, smut

synopsis: The last guaranteed day you have with Taehyung is spent with his choice of adventure. You learn a lot of things about the history of freakshows, and how much of a freak your brother is as well.

warnings: mention of murder and somnophilia, riding, manipulation

word count: 3.8k

When Taehyung agreed to being your slave for a month, he wasn’t lying. He was attached to your hip throughout the whole time span, obeying your every command without complaint. You didn’t deem him forgiven, but you can’t say you don’t enjoy his company and compliance. The whole month was a bliss for you.

The first week, the morning after the… event, you had him prepare breakfast for you and your mother walked in on him cooking an omelette for you. She was perplexed, and with her morning drowsiness asked, “You’re home?” before smothering him with a hug. Your father gave him the minimum acknowledgement, and it went by quickly with your mother being surprised every time she saw him in the morning.

The second week, he drove you around and paid for your every need. You don’t know how he has so much money, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he sells drugs or had robbed a bank. You decided to reward him by kissing his cheek every time he bought you clothes and jewelries per your request. He realized he enjoyed spoiling you, and took you shopping in different malls for 7 days straight.

The third week, you met his friend. You had insisted, and he gave in after a short while of you begging because it was difficult to say no to you and rules are rules. His terms were: 1. You're going to act like his girlfriend, and 2. You sit on his lap. Maybe you didn't get it, but his friend Namjoon didn't seem dangerous enough for you to be behaving the way you were forced to. Sitting in front of a burning barrel in the middle of nowhere, Taehyung and Namjoon smoked weed together while you watched them. The conversation was fun, and you wanted to see him again. Taehyung didn’t allow you to question the ordeal. Rest of the week went by a breeze.

Fourth week was relatively calm as well, and now Taehyung is on his final day of slavery. It’s somewhat melancholic for you because you don’t know if he’ll vanish once the clock hits 12. You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, swinging your dangling legs while your step-brother inspects the fridge to find you something for lunch. The two of you woke up late this morning, well, afternoon, and you don’t know why you feel so exhausted and sore. You’ve been feeling this way for a whole month now, but you’re growing somewhat used to it. 

“This bitch is empty,” Taehyung grumbles before closing the fridge and standing up straight. When he notices your soft pout, he slithers his way between your legs. “What’s wrong princess? Are you tired?”

“Will you be here tomorrow?” you blurt without beating around the bush and peek at him under your lashes.

His brow ticks as he tilts his head. “Did you want to do something?”

“Well, no,” you drawl, “I just wish… you were here more often.”

"You know I can't stay away from you for long," he counters your worries, "especially if you allowed me to…"

"Stop." You distance yourself by pushing him away; you don't want to think about what he was implying. You made it explicitly clear that anything remotely sexual wasn't allowed to be brought up when you were around, and he’s been sticking to that rule until now - to your knowledge, at least. 

“Stop teasing your sister, Taehyung.” your mother enters the kitchen while tying the knot of her robe, now checking the fridge herself. 

He rolls his eyes before turning to her and retaliating, “I didn’t even do anything.” You giggle to yourself and bite your fist. “Did I tease you?” he asks innocently with his neck craned in your direction.

“Yes, he doesn’t even make me breakfast,” you joke with a grin. 

“The fridge is fucking empty!”

“Language,” your mother warns strictly before taking out a box of frozen pizza. “And it isn’t empty. Could you turn on the oven for me, love?” You nod and arrange the heat to 200 degrees while Taehyung scoffs, “I can’t survive in a house with women.”

“Man up,” your step-father butts in monotonously. “You have to rely on your mother to cook to this day. When will you move out? Act your age Taehyung, you’re 21.”

The light-hearted atmosphere dims with the presence of Taehyung’s father. There’s a distinct contrast between your two parents, and you can understand why your step-brother is so rebellious around them. The only thing holding them together is their dedication to religion. 

He only huffs and crosses his arms in response as his dad grabs a carton of juice and a glass from the cupboard. It’s tense in the room until Taehyung leans into your ear and whispers, “I’m only here because of you.”

A light blush tints your cheeks at his sweet confession, although it also makes you guilty. He later convinces you to eat with him in your room, and it’s comfortable in your bed as you chomp on the slices hungrily. 

“Is there anything you want to do today?” Taehyung asks as he chews on his pizza.

“Let’s do something you want for a change,” you answer after swallowing. 

Though he hasn’t been showing any lack of interest around you, you are aware that you haven’t been doing anything fun by his definition. You’re worried that you’ve bored him throughout this whole timespan of being together.

A smirk grows on his face and there’s that glint of mischief in his eyes that you’ve missed. Fair, the last time you saw it was before he traumatized you, but you try not to think about it much like you ignore the constant ache between your legs. 

“There’s this circus,” he begins slowly, “I hear it’s interesting. Would you want to come with?”

You know he’s leaving something out, his cautious tone and aura implicit he knows something you don’t. But you nod anyway, because you still stupidly trust him.

Taehyung’s car is old and retro, but he must have upgraded the engines for how fast he is driving. You like admiring his side profile as he holds the steering wheel, but the view is much more interesting when he catches you looking. It’s a far location, and you’re out of the city by the time he parks his car in the woods. How did he memorize the directions when it took an hour to get there?

“We’re here,” he announces before shifting the manual stick gear with a screech. You exit the car and he is not gentle with the way he slams the door closed, so you do the same. You can see hints of red colors between the cracks of the thin trees. 

“Is it open?” you question apprehensively. The sun hasn’t set yet, but it should be getting dark soon in the evening. 

“Hasn’t been open for a century. You wouldn’t believe the amount of history this place has.”

He takes the lead in his steps, and you follow behind though your gut doesn’t approve. The path isn’t long, and only then do you see the circus when Taehyung moves aside. It’s run down, worn out colors in the curtains, broken glasses on the ground and the circus barely holding itself up. There’s a huge cannon in the middle of the stage, the tip balancing itself on the ground. It’s kind of creepy, but Taehyung doesn’t leave you in the dark for long.

“A lot of crazy shit happened here, you know,” he piques your curiosity, “the clowns were fucking freaks. Any type of physical disorder landed you in here, whether you liked it or not. Even for babies,” he picks up an idle shard of glass, “these were jars. They had deformed fetuses on display on a stand, but the wind must have fucked it up.”

“Deformed fetuses?”

“Yeah, like, conjoined and some other stuff.” You grimace at his description, although it stirs empathy in you. The 20th century sounds inhumane. 

“Are these real stories?” 

“Yeah. And the cannon: they rocketed people from this very bad boy,” he points at it before standing under.

Your stomach sinks as you panic, “It could fall on you!” You pull at his hand and the force makes your chests meet. He smiles down at you before pecking your lips. You stammer, a little mad as he chuckles before walking to a wooden wheel. He makes a star pose after stepping on the metal stand, stretching out his limbs to fit the whole circle. 

“This was the Wheel of Death; they threw knives at targets on this. I think they only targeted females actually...” He nods at you to replace him as he hops off. You go along with his idea and climb on the stand, though it creaks weakly. He takes out a pocket knife from his pocket and you’re about to yell before he hurls it at you. It lands above your shoulder and you immediately scold, “What the fuck, Tae?! Why would you do that! I could’ve died.”

He shrugs with a bright grin, clearly unbothered by your stressing. “My aim isn’t too bad.” He walks over to you and collects his floating knife. “Besides, when have I ever hurt you?”

You bite your tongue and purse your lips with a glare. 

“See?” he whispers. “You can’t even name one time…”

He’s teasing your silence, how you can’t even dare to voice the specific night. You haven’t even told your parents and slept with him right after, and he finds that so interesting: that you trust him with your life. 

“You actually can’t? Wow, I didn’t realize I was such a good brother,” he grins lopsidedly before snapping his fingers. “On with the tour.” He is enthusiastic as he struts past the circus. You shake your head with a sigh but follow him regardless. “So there were sword swallowers, acrobats, strongmen, anything that drew attention. They had a shit ton of accidents and deaths, but you would die if you got boring as well.” Taehyung holds back a bush to let you pass; the place he’s leading you to is a lot more crowded with sages and trees than the previous path. “Once the initial attraction wears off, you’re a goner. They couldn’t survive in that society with those deformities, so it was suicide either way.”

“That is so cruel,” you mumble sympathetically. “This place was like a fractured fantasy.”

“At least they lived for a bit… up until someone ended it.” When he pushes away the woodruffs, you’re met with another rundown site with a few… cages? “This is the trailer. Where they stayed and got ready for their shows. Some were held against their will, and slept with the animals in those cages.”

You gape at your surroundings in shock. The trailer is missing one side of the wall, and the rest have been vandalized with random phrases written in spray paint. You don’t give much attention to the torture cages, because the trailer has a lot more to show. It still has couches on the incomplete hardwood flooring, and Taehyung plops on one. The fabric is torn and dust rises the moment he’s on the seat. “That’s so dirty, Tae,” you pull a displeased face.

“Don’t be rude to the past occupants. Their ghosts might still be around.” He wiggles his fingers as if imitating a monster. He then pats his thighs, beckoning you to sit on his lap. You begrudgingly do so, and he wraps his arms around your waist before pulling you flush against him. “Any theories on how this shitshow ended?”

“Police intervention?”

“Something like that, I guess. One of the acrobats went nuts and shot everyone, so the place was shut down.”

“What?” you widen your eyes at him. “Why did they do that?”

“He was going to be replaced, so he got rid of the competition. Very chilling,” he casually states. “There must be some bullet holes in the walls, but we can check that out later.” His head snuggles into your neck while you’re still processing his words, but you go blank when he starts leaving feather light kisses on your neck. “Right now,” he murmurs, “I just want you to ride me.”

“Ride you?”

“Don’t act innocent, you know what I mean. You said I could choose what we did today… and I want to fuck here.”

“Taehyung… I specifically told you we aren’t allowed to do anything sexual. You hurt me last time as well,” you frown at the mention. 

“I asked you if I ever hurt you earlier. Did you say anything?” he asks condescendingly.

“No…”

“Why are you saying I hurt you now? Don’t tell lies, baby. Besides,” his hand slides down to your thigh as he speaks in a low, sultry voice, “I’ve been loosening up your cunt. You don’t even wake up at night anymore. It won’t hurt this time, I promise.”

You had an inkling, the stupid inkling that you tried so damn hard to brush aside. “You fucked me in my sleep?” you force out, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. “And you brought me here just to–”

“Christ, no,” he cuts you off offendedly, “I’m not that sick in the head. I didn’t plan it, but I can’t say I wasn’t hoping. It’s not like I’m going to rape you.”

“You did it once!”

“I was on a lot of drugs then! I’m clean now,” he huffs in irritation. “I’m sorry about that, and I know my apology is long overdue or whatever, but give me a break. I’ve been into you since I was like 16.”

You turn to look at him - really look at him. There’s not a trace of guilt on his face; the roots of his messy teal hair have grown out; the beauty of his naturally downward lip corners; you don’t know what to think. Your mind is a mess because you don’t know what to make of his confession. He has manipulated you countless times, coerced you into doing things you would never do, and for once you reflect on his personality. This could be one of his schemes in order to get you to do what he wants, and ironically, he was supposed to be doing that for you. Through all of your scrambled thoughts, you only muster a meek “really?”

“Yes,” he affirms, “that’s why I want to be intimate with you.”

Lies, lies, lies, you think before gently pressing your lips against his. Despite your attempt at kissing him softly, he doesn’t cooperate by instantly sucking on your nether lip with vigor, his hands immediately meeting at your hips to gently rock them against his crotch. He bites your lip before swiping his tongue against it, coaxing, “Suck on my tongue.” The awkward angle from where you’re kissing him makes him turn your body to completely face him, your knees landing on either side of him on the uncomfortable chair. It doesn’t matter, because you’re starting to forget the whole setting, just about everything except for him as arousal begins to seep in. Heat pools in your stomach at the switch in mood, and he’s enjoying your compliance as he quietly moans into your mouth. 

While you’re busy relishing in his swirling tongue, he starts tugging down your pants and you help him without looking. You sit up to push it down your ankles and throw it on the floor along with your panties. “What’s gotten into you?” he chuckles breathlessly before leaving wet kisses on your lips and pulling away to take off his wrinkled shirt. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, equally breathless.

“I don’t know, you’re just… so hot when you’re horny.” His boyish smile grows on your flustered face as he says, “Take off your shirt. Wanna see those pretty tits again.”

You bite your lip to suppress your insecurities, but it doesn’t help when you’re left in your bra as you cover your chest. “Don’t be shy now,” he teases knowingly and removes your arms before unclasping the garment. “Take out my cock now.” His tone is gentle with encouragement. You unzip his jeans timidly, but your eyes grow in wonder at the outline of his erection. “I’m so hard for you,” he assures you in a whisper and takes your hand in his to rub himself. “You’re so pretty, and sexy. I fucked you every night because you’re just so irresistible. You understand, don’t you, baby?” 

“I… Yes,” you agree and finally push down his briefs. His throbbing cock stands proudly and you’re intimidated by the size until he murmurs, “I won’t hurt you.” He lightly touches your bare pussy, slick with your arousal as you shudder. He coats your vulva with all of it, giving special attention to your clenching hole as he inserts a single finger. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head, and you’re confused by the lack of pain and the desire for more. It feels good and that is a surprise for you as you sink down lower on his finger. He curls it, adds another finger and stretches your walls, emitting a moan out of you. You’re liking it, and you don’t know why; he was so cruel the last time that you were convinced something would go wrong now. Nothing does, and if anything, his fingers make you feel the best you have ever felt though it is not enough. “More,” you beg and he replaces his fingers by pulling you to the head of his cock. He’s staring right at you with hooded lids as he rubs it up and down, making you release a needy whimper. “Please, Taehyung.”

And like the slave he was meant to be, he shoves it in with a grunt. Your scream catches in your throat at the initial sting, but it’s worth it when he screws his eyes shut in pleasure and bites his lip to hold back a groan. He looks angelic under you, although he is anything but. You realize he is waiting for your cue to move, and it flutters your hearts because he is more attentive to you this time. Rather than letting him take the lead, you act on your instincts as you roll your hips. It’s unsteady at first, the foreign position making it difficult for you to adapt to so fast. His audible quick breaths encourage you to take your time in angling your pelvis comfortably, and when an involuntary moan leaves you, you place your hands on his shoulders before sticking to the current stance and going up and down on him. 

“Oh shit, you’re doing so well,” he praises you between gasps, supporting your body with his hands, “feels so fucking good. My good girl.”

It gets to your head, how much he’s enjoying your motions. He meets them with thrusts of his own, perfectly hitting your cervix and blinding you with pleasure. What is it that makes you feel so wonderful in this situation? Is it the touch, or the complimentary fact that you’re the only person Taehyung wouldn’t get bored of? 

Could it be that you’re two of the same?

Maybe he’s the one desperate to please you, you think as he massages your breasts, flicking your hard nipples with his thumbs so graciously. The eerie silence is broken by both of your loud moans, ecstasy sensually building up in knots in your stomachs. Sweat accumulates on your forehead, your hair sticking to your face but not hiding the sight of his erotic expression. You arch your back and grind down on him, and he’s limp on the loveseat as he takes all that you give him so submissively.

It’s your turn to use him, and you actually start understanding what makes him so rash and impulsive in hopes of receiving this amount of serotonin. It’s worth it, the release of control and morals to be with him. “Taehyung, h-how did you do it?” you moan. “Every night, what did you do?”

“I,” he tries to catch his breath, “I used my fingers to stretch you out. One finger, then two, then three.” He groans and thrusts into you fast and hard, “I fisted you at some point, and you came in your sleep, and then on my cock. Moaning and whining every fucking night, like some filthy whore.” You mewl at his crude words. He’s so obscene with you, and you clench your walls in response. “You like being my whore, hm? Little freak.”

“Yes, yes,” you confirm in a whimper, nodding your head as you pass the dominance onto him. He’s fucking into you while you stand on your knees, eyes rolled back with drool about to drip from the corner of your mouth. He starts to rub your clit and kisses your neck for you to tighten around him over and over again; it’s heaven in an empty graveyard. It’s so fucked up, yet he can’t stop. You’re panting as he manipulates your body to mold with his. “I’m close.”

His hands fall on your ass, greedily kneading it as your hips begin to stutter, your orgasm climbing up just as your energy is falling down. It hits you like a truck: the peak of pleasure, accompanied by a silent scream, nails digging into his skin as your muscles tense. “Fuck,” you breathe once his thrusts begin overstimulating you, but it’s not for long as he shoots his load inside you with a groan. He’s twitching as his erection becomes flaccid, and you feel it as he pulls out. 

“Bet it didn’t hurt,” he jokes while you recover from your climax. You’re leaking with his cum and he uses his shirt to wipe you clean, making you shake from how sensitive you are. “I’ll buy you the pill on the way home.”

“Thanks,” you plainly say and stand up to pick up your clothes. You’re trembling slightly and a little achy, but it’s nothing compared to losing your virginity. 

“What? You gonna give me the cold shoulder now?” He’s only in his loose pants and has his shirt thrown over his shoulder. He buckles his belt while you put on your bra. 

“Why did you make us act like a couple in front of Namjoon?” After hearing his confession, the interaction before bugs you.

“What do you mean?”

“Is it because you didn’t want him to think I was single? Because you like me?”

“No, he’s a convicted felon. Crazy motherfucker killed his ex’s new boyfriend,” he reveals with a scoff. “Besides, if you like me, you’d like him as well.”

Putting your shock aside, you realize one thing: Taehyung doesn’t want to be replaced. Does that mean you hold power over him? Or will he do anything at any cost to be in your life?  Regardless of your internal monologue, you only reply with, “who says I like you?”

It’s a joke, and he knows it. As promised, he buys you an emergency pill and another shirt for himself on the way home. His days of slavery are over, and you wonder: where will he be tomorrow? Maybe take his father’s advice… 

[opalsiren]

one of my fave things about rikki is that she has such a firm sense of justice. you would think that as the rebellious cool girl who is totally chill about everything, she wouldn't want to be perceived as someone who cared. but she goes out of her way to get revenge on the illegal fish vendor who wronged her, and stops herself from hurting him when emma discourages her from doing so. even before she and zane find common ground, she wonders aloud why his dad treats him so poorly. she also stands up to harrison when he tries to develop mako by threatening to invoke environmental law, organising a petition and contacting the press and the environmental protection agency

she's also quite insightful and intelligent too. i think one common misconception about rikki's character is that, since she doesn't care about school or grades, she isn't smart, but i strongly disagree. in the episode where emma accidentally freezes miriam alive, she is able to calm emma down and remains totally cool under pressure. she helps cleo to get her bodily fluids moving and helps her to chill out too. she is able to placate zane and wilfred enough so they're not suspicious, and even discourages miriam from asking questions when she wakes up in the juicenet after the girls revive her. rikki is actually quite good at reading people, she just refuses to conform to social norms and conventions

but also... she's soft. she's gentle. she herself is quite emotional. rikki is the one, not emma, to give cleo a pep talk and encourage her to swim out of the moon pool with them despite her fears. she cries when she fights with the girls and she cries when she fights with zane. after cleo goes missing she gives her a huge squeeze and tells her she was worried. she goes to see sappy romance movies with her boyfriend and giggles while he chases her around shopping malls. when her bestie's ex is dating someone new she sympathizes and tells her it won't last. when her other bestie's current squeeze wants to organise a surprise for her, she helps put together a whole hamper of her favourite stuff plus movie tickets for her and her beau. she sings bad karaoke with her friends because she knows how to have fun and goes out of her way to get a locket for their older friend because she knows how much it means to her. she loves her little place by the sea with her dad, she makes him coffee and helps with the bills whenever she can

though don't get it twisted, she WILL set you on fire if you cross her. either with her words or with actual, literal fire

[tamakissimp]

K.B- here to stay

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: Bakugou wasn’t the only captive the league of villains had, you were one too. A captive they took for your quirk; drinking just a drop of your blood could heal any injury. After being rescued, you and Bakugou got separated. But not for long.

𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: fem!reader pronouns (used once) kidnapping, blood, knife, fluffy ending, captivity, cursing

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 𝟚𝟛𝟡𝟟

request: anon - Hi! I saw requests were open, could you please write a scenario for Bakugou, where during his time kidnapped by the lov, they had another captive. A girl who is his age, but she has been there for a few months. The reason why she is there is because of her quirk. Her blood can heal others, all they need to do is drink some of it, the bigger the injury the more blood. They are saved together but then separated. It’s been two years of no contact when Bakugou goes to recovery girl to find the same girl who was a captive now learning under recovery girl. They hit it off. Hi please?

You're a hallucination his mind made up, Bakugou is sure of it. A bright imagine his mind made up to keep himself from going insane. You're too pure to be in such a shit-filled place as the league's hideout.

Though the chains shackled tightly around your ankles say differently. The bloodstains on the ground scream that you’re here. The various scars and wounds that those villain bastards put on you prove you're real. Your arms gently wrapping around Bakugou's shaking body convince him that you're real.

 You're here, you're real and you're hurt. Hurt because he can't keep those bastard's hands of you. Though you never fret about it.

Bakugou screams his throat raw every moment he can as league members do as much as breath in his direction. Even their muzzles can keep his mouth shut. Though you never say a word when they plunge syringe after syringe into your skin. Tears never roll down your cheeks as they cut your skin up to their liking.

He wonders if you ever were rebellious. If there was a time when you kicked and screamed at the villainous hands reaching towards you. All he knows is your time with him. The times in which you would gently gather the blood seeping from your fresh wounds onto your thumb and stick it into his mouth. The times in which you forced your quirk on him, even if he bit down harshly on your fingers. Just so he could have a chance at recovering before Shigaraki ordered a new wave of pain onto him.

All he knows are the nights - or days, time grows weird when you're kidnapped - when you're running your hands through his hair. The nights at which you promise him that someone will rescue him. Even if no one has tried to do during your imprisonment. You promise him that you will get out here so he can show you the friends he's been telling you about.

"Denki, you'll-you'll love him," he says. His voice cracks. Either from sadness or the amount of screaming he has done today, he doesn't know or care. "He's stupi- I mean, he's kind. A fucking goofball.".

You hum at him as you continue to play with his spiky hair. You like to imagine that it's normally soft. Soft and bouncy. But now it's matted by sweat and crusted bits of blood. That and facts that it hasn't been washed for well over a week.

"And Kirishima," Bakugou continues. He thinks back on the times spent with his friends. Times were they dragged him along to go on stupid adventures. Times were they laughed their ass off for no reason. He hated this times back then but he yearns for them now.

"He's great. He's kind. A-And he's sweet. The type of guy to be everyone's friend. The type of guy....to be a hero.". Tears roll down his cheeks at his words.

A hero. It's hard to imagine himself being one now. He can't even handle being kidnapped by some low life bastards without breaking down.

"I can't wait to meet them," you whisper back. "We'll get spicy pork noodle together, yeah?". Bakugou nods. You'll get out of here, both of you. You're going to get out of here and he's going to take you to a stupid mall to eat some goddamn noodles.

You continue to play with his hair. Running his locks through your fingers while humming subconsciously. The soft movements lul Bakugou into a sleepy state. His body grows warm and his eyes grow droopy. "We'll do that," he whispers before letting his eyes fully close.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Dabi's burning hand wraps around your arm. Red indents in the shape of the pads of his fingers get pushed into your skin. Screams erupt from your throat.

"Don't be so fucking annoying," Shigaraki spits out. You simply shake your head as sobs wreck through your body. Dabi's hands warm up further, excelling boiling point. You scream again.

Dabi's free hand lifts to slap your cheek harshly. The red handprint on your skin makes pride swell up in the bastard's chest. Finally, Dabi's burning hand unwraps itself from your arm.

He lets you curl into yourself, carefully cradling your burned arm. "Just give us some fucking blood," Shigaraki says he as walks away from his place in the shadows.

Dabi steps aside to make room for his boss. Shigaraki slowly crouches down in front of you. You keep your eyes trained on the chains secured tightly around your ankles. Fucking bastard.

Suddenly, four of Shigaraki's cold fingers wrap around your neck, forcing you to look at him. Crazed eyes and cracked skin look back at you. He expected you to beg for forgiveness. For you to fall to your knees and beg for your life. Instead, you stare at him with lifeless eyes.

"You better cooperate with us. You don't want to piss off the end boss," he says. His wobbly voice makes you want to cut his tongue out. Since that isn't an option, you opt for the next best thing; spitting in his voice.

Shigaraki stumbles back a bit like a thick glob of spit runs down his nose, hitting his upper lip. He roughly wipes the spit off his face as you give him a shit-eating grin. "Suck. My. Dick," you say.

Within a second, he has you turned around. Your cheek is planted firmly against the cold, stone wall as your arm is bent in a painful angle. "Crispy, give me a fucking knife," Shigaraki says while making grabby hands towards Dabi.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you here the man behind you shuffle around. Screams rip through your throat as you feel the cold edge of a knife press harshly into your skin. Drops of blood audibly hit the floor. Maybe complying would be easier.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

The chair is always the worst. You can't speak to him, you can't help him. All you can do is look at him while he trashes against the restrains. All you can do is long to touch him while a muzzle covers his face.

You cower away in the corner. Any rattling Bakugou's chains make only cause you to curl into yourself more. You wrap your arms around yourself in pseudo protectiveness.

Broken whispers of apologies fall of your tongue along with whimpers. Bakugou's screams are still more than audible even with the thick metal covering his mouth.

He must be scared, of course, he is. He told you about that glob monster that had pushed itself into his throat. Did the muzzle remind him of that? It must have. Otherwise, he would be aggressive, rather than scared.

"I'm sorry," you repeat time and time again. You can't even remember if it was your fault. Though it most likely was, it always is.

It's smart of the league you, you have to give them that. Punishing someone else. Playing mind games like they always do. They could have just roughed you up a bit. Thrown a few punches and left it at that. But punishing Bakugou instead of you, that's fucked up.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.". The meaningless words bounce through the room. I'm sorry won't get Bakugou out of that chair. It won't even calm him down. Maybe it'll scare him even further.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Salvation is supposed to taste sweet. It's supposed to feel like drinking a cold glass of water after being lost in a desert. Instead, it left a foul taste on your tongue. It left your body shaking with fear.

The loud explosions and bang going on outside the door make you push your head into Bakugou's chest. His arms are wrapped securely around you.

He wants to fight, God knows how much. He wants to blow off that goddamn door and blast the league's faces off. But he also knows that if he gives in to his reckless impulses, you'll be left by your self. And you don't have an aggressive quirk as he does. Basically meaning, if he leaves you alone now you're fucked.

"It's okay," Bakugou says. His voice is broken and ragged. After days of doing nothing but screaming his vocal cords ultimately took some damage. He winches at the dryness in his throat. "No one's gonna hurt you.".

You nod against him, fisting the fabric of his shirt. Suddenly, the door bangs open. You pull yourself out of Bakugou's grasp. He steps in front of you and shields you behind his broad shoulders. Though his defence drops once he sees the person in the doorway.

"Mister Aizawa," he says. The teacher nods as he quickly walks over to the boy, turning his attention towards the chains linked to his left wrist.

"Who's this?" he asks as he looks over at you. You take a step back from the unknown men, looking at Bakugou like a deer in headlights.

"Y/n, she's been captured too," he gruffs. The raven-haired nods before moving on to loosen your shackles. You subconsciously reach out and grab a hold of Bakugou's hand. He gladly grabs a hold of it, rubbing soothing circles on the top of up.

Once Aizawa is done, he moves away from the two of you and mentions towards the door. "Let's get you, kids, out of here," he says. Bakugou's eyes shoot over to you.  You sent him a reassuring nod.

"Let's go home.".

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Life without you is dull. The sparkle that once lit up Bakugou's life is now gone. He went from relying on you to get him through the day to not seeing you all. Last he saw you, you were both in the hospital getting your wounds treated. He heard whispers that you attend the UA now but he doesn't let himself believe in such rumours only to be disappointed.

His friends had noticed the change, how could they not. Bakugou went from being a hothead to not saying a word to anyone except Kirishima.Being a shut-in was his new thing, instead of being a fireball. He overworked himself in training. He pushed his quirk until his hands were raw and burned.

His aspirations to become a hero has seemed to double. The fact that no one has come to save you for months seemed to fule his dreams to make sure that happened to no one else.

At unholy hours he allowed himself to think of you. He let his mind wander to dark corners as he lays in bed unphased by sleep. The possibility that you had never recovered from your injuries was likely. Maybe you died in the hospital and he's going with his life hoping that fate will miraculously bring you two together.

Those thoughts always seem to spike a place in his heart. All he knew about you was your name. You let him ramble about his life. You took away his pain, his fear and his injuries. All that and he never returned the favour. You had never told him about yourself, your fears or your family. He beats himself up of that. 

He pushes himself in the gym for that. Forces his body beyond breaking point because - in his mind - he deserves it. He deserves all the pain he could never take away from you.

"Hey, Bakugou!" Denki calls out. Bakugou's head perks up for a second. his eyes fall over his electric friends before turning to gaze out the window again.

Denki looks over to Kirishima who gives him an encouraging nod. "Can't you just tell him?" Denki asks. Kirishima shakes his head.

"Nuh-uh, you tell him," He says.

"Tell me what?" Bakugou sneers. Both boys look up at their friend who has suddenly turned his full attention to them. Denki shoots Bakugou an awkward smile.

"They're uh," Kirishima begins. "There's someone at Recovery Girl you might want to see.". Bakugou nerves light up. Could it be you?

He quickly dismisses the possibility. Getting his hopes up will only get him hurt in the long run. Still, though, he quickly pushes himself out of his chair and rushes towards Recovery Girl's office.

The walk is short, two minutes tops. Maybe it's because he's focused or maybe it's because he's powerwalking through UA like a mad man. Who knows.

Muffled voice is audible from behind the door. One voice, in particular, spikes his attention. Without thinking, Bakugou rips the door open. There he sees Recovery Girl standing next to a sitting down Izuku, who broke his arm again. However, another figure is standing beside them.

"Deku?" Izuku says. Bakugou's mind doesn't get the time to catch up as his body rushes itself towards you. His arms wrap around you instinctively as he pulls you into a bone-crushing hug.

"Katsuki!" you squeal out as you return his hug. His nerves are on fire and his mind is in overdrive. The feeling of your warmth against his body calms down anxieties he didn't know he had. Your familiar scent fills his nose.

He pulls away slightly to see your face. His calloused palm rests against your cheeks. You melt into his touch. "I thought...". He doesn't have to finish the sentence for you to understand.

"I know," you say. "But I made it. And I'm not going anywhere.". Warmth swells up in Bakugou's chest at the words. Salty tears prick in his eyes though he makes no attempt to wipe them away.

Deku is damned, he's going to cry whenever he likes. If you had asked him a year ago, he would have said that crying makes you weak. Though he knows better now. Emotions don't make you weak. They make you stronger. They make you human.

"I'm going to the UA now. I'm doing a special healer's course," you say. A goofy smile is plastered on your lips as tears start to well up in your eyes as well.

Izuku awkwardly dismisses himself from the room. Though a smile is still present on his lips. It does him well to see how much his childhood friend has changed.

"You're gonna stay here," Bakugou repeats your words. You nod at him. Your hand reaches up to run through his hair. Like you thought his locks are silky smooth. Now unphased by layers of sweat, standing up proudly in high pikes.

"I'm going to stay.".

[sysba]

♡ 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒃 ♡

[ highschool AU - where Bryce’s family moved and he met the mc in highschool ]

pairing: teen!Bryce Lahela x teen!MC (Victoria)

words: 4.8k+

prompt: “I wanted to say ‘I love you’ for the first time without stuttering, but that failed.” + “we have a mutual friend who decides to play seven minutes of heaven and we’re paired up so what do you want to do for the next seven minutes” (via anonymous)

warnings: Bad parents™, brief mention of underage drinking, language

a/n: this was just. a PAIN to write but also so much fun? i didn’t followed the prompt exactly, i just kinda took some favourite tropes (reverse fake dating, popular jock/soft-hearted rebel pairing, bffs to lovers) & smashed them together lol I owe a HUGE thanks to @oneflewoverthecuckoos​ & @brightpinkpeppercorn​​ who kindly beta’d this! this version of bryce was different from what i’m used to so i’d love to know what y’all think about the characterization 👀 what’s your favourite part/detail?? i'm veryy curious! comments&reblogs are much appreciated 🥰

In what seems like slow motion, the bottle’s spins become slower and slower until it comes to a stop, pointing right at Bryce.

The general reaction is a symphony of enthusiastic cheers, polite amusement, or utter incredulity. It’s becoming harder not to laugh, and with a sly smirk Bryce cocks a brow at Victoria.

“Well, Torres? Are we gonna do this or not? I don’t have all night.”

***

[thursday; 2 days before]

Why me? Victoria let out a sigh, letting her head fall to the side to rest against the window. It wasn’t comfortable, especially because the road was full of bumps and the bus was driving fast down the lane. But honestly, having her head banging against the glass was still more pleasant than listening to all the gossip about who was gonna kiss who at the party.

Right… that. The weekend was coming fast, after all. Sometimes life really felt like another teen movie, only less pleasant. The party in question was the major event for the whole of Westside High’s student body. Every year, like clockwork, the rich kids teamed up to organize the most decadent night of revelry, and it didn’t matter whether you were a popular jock or a rebellious loner⎼ chances were, you were gonna attend just like anyone else, seniors and freshmen alike.

As for Victoria, normally she would’ve been excited. Music, friends, a lavish buffet which included a giant chocolate fountain (among other things). A fun Saturday, and exactly her scene. But this time… this time it felt like she was running from one prison to the other. Home never felt like home, and right then, fun felt like an empty promise. All she wanted was some peace and quiet. Yet, she had to sacrifice that in the name of chaos, loud songs and smudged lipstick and small talk. But it was either the party or home, there was no way around it, so the choice was already made.

"Victoria? Babes, are you listening to me?" 

A hand waved right in front of her face made Victoria jump a little; she pushed away her thoughts as she turned to stare back at her concerned friend. "Sorry, I'm sorry! I got distracted. What were you asking me?"

God, I hope my smile doesn't look as fake as it feels. Apparently, it didn't because her friend⎼ Joyce Turner, head-cheerleader, barely 5’3 feet of cheerful caffeinated energy⎼ shrugged. 

“I was just telling you that we should go to the mall tomorrow, so we can buy something for the party.”

Victoria mumbled a quick ‘sure’ and let the others return to their conversation. Of course, it didn’t matter that she had been conflicted about going to the party. Everyone expected her to, most of all her friends. 

That had always been the problem with Joyce: they’d known each other since kindergarten, and they always had fun together. But at the end of the day, Joyce never paid attention to how Victoria felt or what she had to say. All the attempts ended up with the unbearable feeling of being an outcast on Vic’s end. It wasn’t the kind of friendship where you could really confide in one another. Nothing like what she had with him…

A few hours before, when Victoria had announced she wasn’t going to the party of the year, the reaction had been mixed. Around the cafeteria table, most of her friends had laughed, assuming it was a joke. The others had simply looked at her as if she’d gone mad, so she had just dropped it and pretended she was kidding. After all, it wasn’t as if she really wanted to explain she didn’t feel like going out. Maybe they would’ve understood, maybe not. Still, there was only one person she wanted to talk to about this.

And he was waiting for her, smiling from her front porch as she got off the bus and waved her friends goodbye.

Bryce Lahela was (and there was no way around it) beautiful. Not just that kind of handsome that makes you weak to the knees. He had this warmth to him, from the way the corners of his whiskey brown eyes crinkled up when he smiled to the way he hugged with his whole body, and the way his lips were perpetually curved into a smirk, cupid’s bow deliciously inviting. 

The guy looked and felt like a summer road trip, with the windows down and the music up, wind ruffling your hair, laughter bathed in sunlight as hands lace together. 

And he was hers. Victoria couldn’t help but marvel at that.

“How you doin’, gorgeous?” Bryce pushed away from the bench and got up to meet her, a lopsided grin making him look a bit devilish in his worn-out leather jacket, unruly golden brown locks framing the sharp lines of his face in soft waves. 

Victoria dropped her bag to the ground and crossed her arms, glancing around nervously before hissing her question. “What are you doing here?”

His smile only grew wider. “Your mom’s at work. I saw her leave.” The words made her visibly relax, and he finally closed the distance to wrap his arms around her waist, hunching a bit to press their foreheads together. She had to stand on her tiptoes just to reach his chin, which never failed to make him chuckle. “Thought I’d hop by and say hello to my best girl.”

Victoria raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow, a hint of amusement threatening to break her stoic expression. “I think you mean your only girl.”

“That, too,” he laughed. As if I would ever want anyone else but you. The thought was so ridiculous it made Bryce shake his head. He nodded to the sky. “To the stars?”

That finally made her smile, wide and bright and heart-stopping. ‘To the stars’ was their code for the rooftop. They met there quite often, sneaking up whenever one of them had a bad day, or they just wanted to spend time together, and they’d been doing it for more than a year. So they had come up with the code (specifically after watching Titanic and laughing at how cheesy it was just before realizing they were both teary-eyed).

Legs crossed against the tiles and shoulders almost touching, Victoria glanced at Bryce. “Where have you been? I haven’t heard from you in days.”

She sounded casual, not accusing, but there was a flash of guilt in his eyes and as he replied, he stared down at his Converse, voice low and rueful. “I know,” he paused, then finally looked up at her. “‘m sorry, baby.”

Vic studied the plea staining his face. Hard to stay focused on anything but the scarce distance between them, and the fact that his long, thick lashes were casting shadows on his cheeks. She could even see the traces of kajal darkening the contours of his eyes⎼ smudged as if he wore it the day before but forgot to take it off before bed. 

Forgiven. Definitely forgiven. 

Even Bryce could tell by the awe in her expression and had to try hard to suppress a smirk. He cleared his throat, gently snapping her out of her daze. “So, everything alright at school?”

“Really? You didn’t come here to talk about school,” she chuckled, nudging him with her shoulder. But he only shrugged. 

“If it’s about you, then it’s a more-than-satisfying conversation topic.”

The simplicity of the statement made her hesitate, and she glanced away for a moment before answering. “I got an A+ in AP biology.”

That made Bryce beam, and he threw an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close with such enthusiasm that she lost her balance for a second and had to lean on him to avoid falling back.

“That’s my girl!” He cheered loudly (too loud... Victoria had to press a palm to his lips to make him calm down), fist raised to the sky in triumph. She choked on a laugh, her hand sliding to his chest as she shook her head, and a few rebellious curls slipped out from her scrunchies with the motion. Bryce brushed them away from her face, the gesture so casual yet so intimate as he looked at her with ardent fondness. “All the best universities will be fighting over you, I just know it. You could easily go Ivy.”

“So could you.” 

He only hummed, but they both knew she was right. Bryce was smart. Like, crazy smart. The ‘barely even has to study’ kind of smart. 

Victoria started playing with one of his silver rings, turning it distractedly around his finger.

“How are things… at home? Did you get in trouble with your dad the other day?”

Before he disappeared on her a couple of days before, they had gone on a night hunt for fries and shakes and ended up staying out all night. Victoria had been lucky, her mother wasn’t home. But Bryce’s dad was under house arrest, so there was no way he could avoid him.

“Oh, yeah,” snorted Bryce. “Big time. There was a lot of screaming.” 

Always so nonchalant. But he couldn’t really hide from her, not when she could clearly see him clenching his jaw before flashing her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He was never a good liar.

“Bryce⎼”

“It’s fine, Victoria.” The words had been blurted a bit too forcefully, but it was the way he’d used her full name that startled her more than anything. She tried to get a better look at him, caramel eyes widened in concern. That made his expression soften at once. “I’m okay, I swear. It was nothing.”

“Okay. I believe you.”

He huffed what was supposed to be a chuckle. It sounded tired, rather than amused. “What about you and your mother? How’s that going?”

“Same old, same old…”

“She’s still a dick, then.” 

Vic’s face snapped to face him, and she stared at him in bewilderment for a moment. He cocked a brow. Then they both cracked up, the sound of their cackles maybe a bit obnoxious, but it felt good. That kind of good that heals the soul. 

It took them a whole minute before they could catch their breath, and when she spoke Victoria’s voice was still trembling with laughter. “Today I told my friends I wasn’t going to the party, this Saturday.”

“Damn. I bet that went well.” There was a familiar twinkle in Bryce’s eyes.

Victoria grimaced. “Yup, about as well as you could expect. Tomorrow we’re going shopping for dresses.”

“Baby, what exactly did you expect?” Bryce snorted another laugh, his words laced with sarcasm. “You’re one of the popular kids. You’re an honour roll student, you’re part of our school’s beloved basketball team, you’re friends with all the cheerleaders… I mean, have you not seen the movies before? People like you never skip parties!”

Ok, he was clearly having too much fun with this. Vic rolled her eyes, a groan escaping her mouth while she playfully shoved him away. “Fine, I think you made your point, B! Also, you’re a huge dork.”

He made a big show of giving her puppy eyes and leaning closer, his hair tickling her face⎼ both enticingly and annoyingly⎼ until she gave up and quickly pressed her lips to his, feeling them curve in bemused adoration. 

Bryce pulled away just enough so he could rest his chin atop her head. His arm was wrapped loosely around her waist, their thighs pressed together as she leaned into the side hug. “Well, I’m going to the party. Anything to get out of the house,” he added with a shudder.  “I’m glad you’ll be there. And not just because you’re the only person who actually likes me.”

“Don’t even joke about that.” With her cheek against his heart, she felt the soft chuckle reverberating through his chest at her pouty threat, and it caused her own lips to quirk up.

A beat of silence, the pink light of the sunset melting with the chill breeze of a tardy fall. Bryce’s next words were whispered against her hair, and they tasted as sweet and familiar as those fruity lip balms she loved to splurge on. “Being around you is the only thing that actually makes me happy.”

Victoria simply clung tighter to him, muttering a response he didn’t hear as they both felt like kings on top of that old rooftop.

[saturday, present - the party]

“Ugh, now I get why you didn’t want to come tonight.”

Victoria finishes pouring herself a cup of kombucha, humming along the song playing from the huge speakers before staring back at Joyce in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

But it doesn’t take longer than a moment before she follows her friend’s gaze and realizes where the conversation is going. Uneasiness washes over her like freezing water dripping down her back, burning painfully against her skin and making her shiver. 

Joyce doesn’t seem to notice.

“That Lahela weirdo is here. You guys have bad blood, right?” 

Vic just gives a noncommittal shrug as her eyes search for Bryce’s across the room. It’s not as if she can contradict anyone⎼ she made a promise, after all. 

If she wasn’t feeling so down, maybe she’d find the situation amusing; how everyone at school is still convinced she and Bryce hate each other is beyond her. When he’d arrived in sophomore year, he had this cocky aura about him… he went around acting like a jerk, and Victoria had believed it at first. They’d butted heads a few times, which had led people to think they loathed one another. Even now, almost 3 years later, the rumour’s still holding. Okay, Bryce makes sure to feed it every now and then, but he and Vic aren’t exactly subtle. 

Like now, he’s glancing in her direction every few seconds, trying and failing to focus on his conversation with Ezra (one of Vic’s teammates, a cheerful guy with broad shoulders and a passion for sweets) and from where she stands all the way across the crowded room, Vic can see the hint of a smile playing on his lips. Anyone watching them could guess the truth from how it paints her cheeks with warmth.

But no one ever does.

Joyce’s voice catches Victoria’s attention once again. “I don’t even know why the guys keep inviting him. It’s not like he’s friends with anyone.”

“I don’t know, Joyce, he and Ezra look pretty cozy. And he doesn’t seem all that bad,” interrupts another girl from the cheer team, sparing Victoria the pain of biting her tongue.

“His parents are literal criminals. How ‘good’ can he be? Besides, he’s a jerk. Back me up, Victoria.”

Anger makes Vic’s stomach twist and knot, flashes of red dancing in her vision. Her fists clench at her side. It takes all her self-control not to go off on Joyce right there. But, instead, she stands abruptly and musters an excuse, telling the others she needs some air, then she rushes outside to find a quiet spot. 

No one follows. She tries to find Bryce, but he’s nowhere to be seen and the place is already packed with people. Without realizing, Vic finds herself on a small terrace, barely lit and perfectly peaceful. She breathes slowly, in and out. Until a bemused voice makes her flinch and spin in surprise.

“There you are. I was wondering when you’d come join me.” Bryce’s smile fades as he catches her expression, and suddenly he’s cradling her face, voice slightly shaking. “Hey, what’s wrong? Whose ass do I have to kick?” He glances inside, as if ready to take on an army just for her.

“I hate how they talk about you. They don’t even know you, but they blame you for what your parents did!” She doesn’t even realize she’s crying until his thumbs wipe the tears from her cheekbones.

Understanding dawns on Bryce’s face. 

“Oh,” he only says, before schooling his features back into a casual expression. “It’s fine, really. I couldn’t give a fuck what they say.”

She hisses, venomous and outraged and heartbroken. “It’s not fair…” 

There’s a sudden tug in Bryce’s chest, which he ignores. No, it’s not fair. But it’s enough that she knows the real him. He tries to distract her, peppering a few kisses along her jawline and whispering praises about how breathtaking she looks in her new dress, but she pulls away too soon.

“Bryce, I don’t wanna do this anymore.” 

Seeing the flash of fear crossing his eyes, Vic takes his hands in hers, squeezing reassuringly. “The lying, I mean. I’m tired and I don’t wanna lie anymore. Not about you, not about us… I don’t care what everyone thinks, I⎼”

“V, we’ve talked about this,” he cuts her off, letting out a tired sigh. They’ve argued about this so many times already, and it always ends up the same way. “I don’t need you mixed up in my parents’ problems. It sucks enough that I’m paying the price for their bullshit, but I don’t want you to get hurt because of it.”

“But I can take it!”

“No, no way am I letting you.” He shakes his head firmly, but when she pushes away with a glare his shoulders sag. “Look, this is not about you. Hell, I know how strong you are. You must know by now I don’t underestimate you.” The hint of a smile on her lips encourages him to continue. He inhales deeply. “I’m the one who can’t take it. You’re too important to me.”

Bryce Lahela, professional risk taker, never afraid to lose... But she’s where he draws the line.

Victoria is silent for a moment, her head now turned as she stares at the black night sky. He can almost hear her thinking but waits in silence.

“Then we should go. Run away.” There’s no chuckle which follows, no inflexion in her voice that implies a joke. And when she finally tilts her head to study his reaction, there’s something in her eyes Bryce didn’t expect to find. Determination. “We could do it, you know. Together. Just pack our bags and drive.” 

The heavy heartbeat of silence is all that can be heard as Bryce tries to make sense of her words. He has so many questions… Where would they go? Would she seriously run away with him? He knows he’d follow her anywhere, but in which universe could he be so lucky that she’d actually feel the same? 

All these questions, all these doubts, but no word spills from his lips. Instead they stay stuck in his throat, threatening, just like the tears glistening at the corners of his eyes. God, he’s so glad she can’t see him clearly in the dimness, but he’s looking at her like she hung the moon and all the stars in the sky. 

No time like the present to tell her how he feels, right?

“Yo, Torres⎼ shit, sorry!” Ezra’s large figure making an entrance startles them, and they quickly step away from one another. He’s frozen in his steps, looking from one to the other in confused curiosity. “Am I interrupting something?”

Vic is the first to snap out from her daze, but Bryce can hear the small, soft sigh leaving her lips before she speaks. “It’s fine, Ezra. What’s up?”

“Uh, Joyce is looking for you.”

“Coming.”

She throws a meaningful glance at Bryce before disappearing from his gaze, and he suddenly feels like punching a wall.

***

At least half an hour passes before Bryce finally goes back inside, and at that point, he has no idea where Vic might be. Some of the guys from the basketball team convince him to play a few rounds of beer pong, and it isn’t until much later that he hears Ezra calling his name.

“Lahela, get your ass here! We’re playin’ 7 minutes in heaven and we need more people.”

Bryce follows with a shrug, and when he walks into the room and sees Victoria perched on the arm of the sofa he’s definitely glad he did. She notices him too, full lips pursing to hide a smile.

“Whose turn is it?” Unaware of the exchange, Joyce hands an empty bottle to Vic. “I think it’s yours, babes. Unless you wanna skip again.”

Victoria hesitates, weighing her options, then grabs it and places it down. Her eyes briefly focus on Bryce before she carefully yet decisively spins the bottle, and at that moment he knows they’re both hoping for the same result. 

Now, it is almost impossible to cheat at ‘spin the bottle’ without making it painfully obvious. However sometimes, either for sheer luck or supernatural skills, one is able to get exactly who they wish for. This is the case.

In what seems like slow motion, the bottle’s spins become slower and slower until it comes to a stop, pointing right at Bryce.

The general reaction is a symphony of enthusiastic cheers, polite amusement, or utter incredulity. It’s becoming harder not to laugh, and with a sly smirk Bryce cocks a brow at Victoria.

“Well, Torres? Are we gonna do this or not? I don’t have all night.”

There it is, the cocky facade he only flaunts for an audience. She can see right through it, but it doesn’t make it any less attractive. It makes her heart skip a beat.

“You’re the worst.” Joyce groans in pure disgust, glaring daggers at the guy before throwing Victoria a look that says ‘what did I tell you?’ (or maybe ‘blink twice if you need rescuing’, Vic can’t really tell).

Rolling her eyes, Vic gets up and follows Bryce.

He has her in his arms as soon as the door closes behind them, pressed to his chest right where she belongs as he whispers hotly in her ear.

“Would you look at that… My wish came true.”

“So you were wishing to get locked in a strangers’ storage closet that smells like⎼ ew, is that Flex body spray?”

Bryce snorts, shaking his head at her antics.

“I meant more something along the lines of ‘I finally have you to myself’, actually. You kinda disappeared on me.”

“Why, got lonely without me?” Her smirk tastes sweeter when he captures it in his mouth, the tip of his tongue lightly caressing her bottom lip before deepening the kiss.

“Obviously.” He’s nothing if not sincere. They both indulge in the kiss a moment longer, but then Bryce pulls back in a sudden move, so quickly as if he’s afraid he won’t have the strength to do it a few seconds later. But he has to ask. “V, were you being serious earlier? About… us running away together?”

Her gaze bores into him as she tries to read his expression. “I didn’t mean to freak you out, I get that maybe I’m going too fast, but,” she bites the inside of her cheek in a nervous motion and glances down at their intertwined hands before continuing. “Yeah, deadly serious. I’d run away with you any day.” 

We only ever needed each other. She doesn’t say that, but she doesn’t have to.

He doesn’t reply right away, he just stares at her in a mix of awe, fear and what could only be described as wild, unrestrained happiness. 

“Shit,” the curse is the only thing that comes out of his mouth, it’s muttered under his breath as he tries to get a hold of himself. 

“Bryce, you’re overthinking this, it was just an idea and you don’t have to say yes or anything⎼”

“No, see, that’s the thing!” he stops her, a feral grin widening on his face. “I’m here trapped in a closet with you and I’ve never felt freer. I’m pretty sure I could spend my whole life just the two of us and I’d never miss anything.”

That definitely makes her falter. Her brows knit together, making the subtle freckles scattered on her forehead come together like tiny constellations.

“What are you saying?”

Bryce rubs his palms against his thighs, the denim of his expensive ripped jeans rough under the touch. He looks so nervous, and by god, it makes Vic’s heart flutter because of how cute he is. 

“You make me excited about the future, V. It’s like⎼ when I’m with you, I can taste the possibilities. Things I wanna do, things I wanna be… I used to think they were unreachable goals. Hell, my parents definitely think they are,” he scoffs a bit, but then he smiles at her and it’s like the sun is shining in that small closet. “But you make them feel so real. You’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me, and every time you kiss me all I can do is hope that I’ll become someone who’s even remotely worthy of you.” 

“Alright, you almost had me but now you’re exaggerating,” chuckles Victoria, because there’s no universe out there where Bryce wouldn’t be worthy of anyone. He’s all there is to her, and no one more than him is deserving of endless love and care. 

She’s about to tell him, but he groans at her interruption (even though he’s smiling a bit).

“Goddammit woman, why d’you gotta be like this while I’m trying to⎼” he swallows the next words, and she presses.

“Trying to…?”

“While I’m trying to tell you that I… I l-love you.” He breathes it out, and it feels good and terrifying at the same time to have the words hanging out in the open. “Well damn, I wanted to say ‘I love you’ for the first time without stuttering, but that failed.”

He’s not entirely joking, since he’s been wanting to tell her for a while. Hoping she won’t leave him. And she doesn’t. No, she kisses him instead, and it’s like there’s liquid fire in their veins as they hold onto each other. 

“I love you, too,” she whispers, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “I feel braver when I’m with you. And I feel… selfish.”

“That’s uh, not exactly what I was expecting you’d say.” Bryce frowns, but it only makes her laugh in return before pulling him closer, arms wrapped around his neck as her fingers bury themselves in his hair. 

She silences him with another kiss when he looks like he’s about to protest and gives him a serious look. “B, I live with a woman who reminds me every day that I’m the reason why she had to give up her dream life. She’s constantly telling me that I owe her just for existing, and she’s my mom.” 

Vic blinks the tears away before they can spill, and she can feel Bryce tensing in anger as he leaves a featherlike peck against her forehead. It feels comforting, like a cup of your favourite herbal tea when it’s raining outside, grey skies and rusty leaves behind the window and a book in hand as you watch the flames dancing in the fireplace. The thought makes her smile as she searches for his eyes once again. 

“At one point she kind of convinced me, so I started giving up things. Things that made me happy.” Her hand runs up to rest on the side of his face, fingertips tenderly running over his smooth skin till they find his lips. “But I’m not giving you up, or us. What we have here… Bryce, you make me feel deserving of anything I might want, and what I want is you, every day, forever.”

Their teeth click when they kiss again with desperate frenzy, way messier than before but ever so loving, sharing their air just like they just shared their own hearts.

Funny how a handful of minutes in heaven might feel like eternal salvation.

[vhs-ghost]

My third (and final) fanfic for the Headless fanfic contest! What were the Sleepy Hollow residents like in high school? Well, Matilda will tell you! I really hope to write more about them in high school! I wrote SO many notes on it lol and i have a LOT more ideas!

The Washington Irving High School Yearbook

Ichabod knocked on the old door briefly before letting himself in. “Hello?” he said to the dimly lit witch’s shop. Katrina Van Tassel had insisted that Ichabod see Matilda, the town witch, for a tarot reading. Ichabod was a very skeptical man, but he was also a very smitten man, and he couldn’t say no to Katrina. He didn’t believe in magic, or the supernatural, or anything like that. He was a man of science. He was very smart when it came his studies, but he was a bit clueless otherwise. For example, he set himself on fire while cooking. Multiple times.

“I’ll be out there in a minute!” Matilda’s annoyed voice called from farther back in the store.

Okay!” Ichabod called back. He decided to poke around the shop while he waited. There were many odds and ends lying about. He wondered how much of it was for aesthetic and ambiance, and how much she actually used. There was a large horoscope tapestry on the wall, and tables and shelves were covered with crystals, tarot card boxes, books, candles, incense, and other witchy stuff like that. It also smelled quite good, like lavender and woodsmoke. He started to walk around, and his bodyweight made the floorboards squeak. He picked up a crystal point, that was much heavier than it looked, and promptly put it back down. He picked up an astrology book and began to thumb through it, not really taking note of it’s contents. As he glanced over the pages, another book poking out of the pile caught his eye; the Washington Irving High School Yearbook, year 2008. He tried to carefully pull it out from the stack, but the pile of books fell to the floor anyway. Matilda hurried in.

“Ugh, what are you doing??” she whined, looking at the pile of books now on the floor.

“I- I’m sorry. I, um-“ he stammered, and then looked at the yearbook in his hand. “I was trying to grab this,” he said, lifting the book sheepishly.

“What did you wanna look at that for?” she asked him, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Well I just happened to see it in this pile, and now I’m curious about how you all were in high school,” he said, hoping to not make her any more angry. “Was this your senior year?”

Matilda softened, but only a bit. “Yep. Here, I’ll show all the people you’ve met. It’s always fun to see what someone looked and acted like in high school. More to make fun of them for.” She opened the yearbook. The spine cracked after not being opened for many years.  

She first pointed to a picture of a pretty girl with red hair. “Let’s start at the beginning. Here’s Ramona when she was Ramona Birch. So before she was Mrs. Eugene Trousers and before she was running definitely not a cult with him. The two of them were the pride and joy of the drama club, imagine that,” she said sarcastically. “They were talented, though,” she added.

She moved on. “Now here’s the most important one.” She pointed to a younger picture of herself, looking even more goth and spooky than she did now. She had mall goth vibes. “Look, it’s ME! Wasn’t I adorable?” She did not wait for Ichabod to answer, and pointed to another picture.

“Oh look, it’s Brom,” she said with a roll of her eyes. He basically looked the same. “His first name is Abraham, but he’s gone by Brom even since he was a kid. It definitely sounds cooler, and Brom always wants to be the coolest guy in the room.” She paused. “He used to be a real jerk back in the day, until Kat flipped her lid on him, yelling at him in the hallway, asking him what his problem was. It was SUPER funny, watching him go all pale and stammer, but it worked, and he’s been less of a jerk, but kind of still a jerk, ever since. But hey, character development; we love to see.” Ichabod nodded, taking this information into consideration.

She flipped ahead a bit. “Hm, Diedrich. He’s been making annoying songs about our personalities since he could talk. In high school, he was the kind of dude who’d bring his guitar to class, to every party, everywhere. I mean, he still does that now, but in high school, it was even more douchey.”

She pointed to another picture, of a girl with bold style and pink streaks in her hair. “Lucretia moved here a couple of months in to senior year to live with her aunt, who owned Storms Inn. She was kind of mysterious in school. Still is, in my opinion, like she has something to hide. Anyway, she got most of the WI High senior experience, but she missed the Battle of the Bands auditions when we did that, so she had to be a judge.”

“You had a Battle of the Bands??” Ichabod asked with surprise.

“Yep. Winner even got a record deal, too. But that’s a story for another day. Anyway, Lucretia fit in well with Sleepy Hollow, and has immersed herself in the town ever since. Moving on to-” Matilda turned the page and pointed at a picture of a girl with bags under her eyes, forcing a smile, “your uptight boss!”

Ichabod looked uneasy. He didn’t want to gossip about his boss.

“Eh, she was uptight then, and shes uptight now,” Matilda said. “Douffe was also hella burnt out back then. See those eyebags?” Ichabod nodded. “She also used to drink coffee like water. She always stretched herself too thin. I guess she learned though?”

She continued to scan the page. “There’s Brad, or as you might know him, Officer Meinhof.” She rolled her eyes. “He was super gossipy, and always getting us outcast kids in trouble. Kinda nice, kinda not.”

She turned the page. “Ah, the package deal!” she said, pointing at three pictures in a row; Tripp Stevens, Calvin Stone, and Blair Sullivan. “The Babes have always been inseparable. They even tried to all be in the same photo, but no one was having that. They’ve always been fun. Having class with them was always an experience,” she said with a bit of a laugh.

She ran her finger across the page, pointing at Eugene Trousers. “Look, it’s Mr. Not a Cult Leader! He was annoying, and his mom was the drama teacher. Despite his obnoxious theater kid attitude, drama club was actually pretty fun.”

“You were in drama club?” he asked.

“Yeah, it was that or suspension. We did Beauty and the Beast. It was pretty cool. I’ll dig out the poster to show you next time.” Ichabod nodded, actually very invested. 

She turned the page, and her eyes lit up. “Ooooo look, Ichabod! It’s Kat Van Tassel!”

Ichabod blushed at her name. Matilda proudly laughed at his nervousness. She continued, “She was super popular, but also very rebellious and opinionated too. I think that’s why everyone likes her; she hella down to earth.” She paused, “Also I’m not being sarcastic. She’s just a really cool person. We’re still friends kind of, but she and I used to be a lot closer,” she said, sighing wistfully. Ichabod looked at her pensively. She snapped back from her nostalgia, looking back at the book. “Anyway..”

She pointed to two pictures. “Here’s the Van Winkles, Rip and Judy. They could not have been more different from each other,” she said with a laugh. “Rip was super smart without trying, but also a super slacker. He was always falling asleep in class and coming in late. Amazing choreographer though. And Judy was super studious and ambitious. She also changed her last name to Gardenier a couple years back. I don’t blame her. Van Winkle is uh, quite the last name. Anyway, they were cool. Rip and I were always good friends, and Judy was nice enough.”

She scanned the page. Her eyes landed on a picture, and her cheeks turned the slightest tinge of pink. She talked fast, “And here’s Tom. He was an outcast like me. He liked to set stuff on fire. Some things never change. He was cool. He is cool. Um-” Ichabod noticed her change in demeanor, but didn’t say anything. She’d just get mad at him if tried to bring attention to it. She pointed to one more picture, not lingering on Tom much longer, even though she wanted to.

“Aaaaand, here’s Verla.” She looked exactly the same as she did now. “I don’t know what her deal is, and it bothers me. I think she’s a haunted doll. Or 500 years old. Either way, she’s weird.” She paused. “Here, I’ll show you some more pictures from stuff.”

Matilda flipped to later in the book, pointing at candids and group shots. “Here’s some pics of drama club.” Ichabod was enthralled. “And here’s a pic from Battle of The Bands-“

RING. An alarm on Matilda’s phone rang as she pointed to the page. She looked down at the phone. “I’ll have to continue with the history lesson later, my dude. I’ve got a tarot card reading appointment to do now,” Matilda said, standing up. Ichabod tried to protest, but she stopped him, “Sorry, I can’t cancel… again. I need the money. But look,” she pointed out the shop window across the street. “Looks like Kat just left the post office. If you go now, I’m sure you can catch up with her.”

Ichabod turned, and did in fact see her. “Well, thank you for all of that,” he said. “I definitely want to hear more about your high school days later.”

“You will,” she told him.

“Bye Matilda,” he said, reaching for the door. He paused. “That was actually pretty fun, hearing about your high school days. Again, thanks.” She nodded back to him, and he rushed from the store, catching up with Katrina. Matilda continued to straighten up the shop, waiting for her next customer, and wondering what kind of high school stories she’d tell Ichabod in the future.

[uncloseted]

How do I get my mom to let me wear what I want (mall goth) without judging me or sexulaize me. Today i asked her if i could dye my hair black and she literally said “People will think I’m I bad mom, i mean people judge me by letting you wear all that dark makeup, and you will look so much older than you do now so you know, people will stare..” Like wtf I’m 12 (Ik ik I’m young) and just trying to be myself.

I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I think I’m kind of on your mum’s side here.  I don’t think dyeing your hair black is necessarily an issue, but combined with clothes and accessories that are intended to make you look older, I can understand her fear that you may get unwanted attention from people who think you’re older than you are.  Not everyone you encounter will be mature enough for you to dress that way, and they may think that when you dress that way, it means they’re allowed to flirt with you or touch you (because they’re sexist jerks).  You’re in no way, shape, or form responsible for regulating the male gaze, but at the same time, it’s an unfortunate reality that many girls have to deal with at some point in their lives.  Your mum is someone who’s experienced what that’s like firsthand, and she’s trying (in her own way) to look out for you.

It’s great to experiment with your look, and I think you should, but maybe try and do it in a way that reflects your age for a little bit longer.  I know it can be tempting to want to be seen as a grown up, but you only get to be young for so long.  You (unfortunately) have the rest of your life to be sexualized by random strangers that you wish would leave you alone.  Perhaps try thinking about what you want to communicate about yourself with your outfits and go from there.  “Edgy” or “punk” or “goth” doesn’t necessarily have to be short skirts and lots of makeup.  Neither does “empowering” or “mature” or “rebellious”.  I would also think about what you feel like you would get out of dressing the way you want.  Is it that you want to be rebellious, or feel like this is a way to gain control over the way people see you?  Is it just that this is how your friends dress?  What about the way you dress feels like “you”, and where did that come from?  Maybe by explaining to your mum why it’s important to you, she’ll be more willing to compromise.

I hope that doesn’t sound too mumsy of me.  I really do feel for you, and I understand how important it is to feel at home in your clothes.  But it’s also important for you to get to explore your sexuality and who you are as a person on your own terms, instead of letting other people define those things for you.

[aclosetfan]

To be written ideas: Number 16

Thanks for playing along!! @kayyee also asked for 16!

haha omg I haven't touched #16 in like four years. Okay, don't judge me, but i've got it titled in my outlines folder as "PowerPossible"

The outline's pretty long. i've actually shortened it for you all lol. Please let me know if you want to hear more about this one!! I can talk about it for a while :) Read below the cut for all of it!

this story's the obligatory Human/tmnt/Kim Possible-ish AU. The girls are NOT related and have no powers (in the beginning).

Family dynamics:

BC: Professor and Ms. Keane are her parents, she has a little brother named Ken (ppgz reference ;p). According to BC, Ken is their favorite child. She's just jealous because Ken has more in common with the Professor, who BC truly adores. She and the Professor have trouble relating because she's into sports, he's not. However, the Professor and her are more alike than she knows. Ms. Keane is still a kindergarten teacher and is the reason their family moves to Townsville.

Bubbles: Her parents died when she was young and now, she lives with her grandparents, the Mayors! The Mayor is still the Mayor of Townsville. (btw Im 85% sure that canonically his last name is also Mayor) The Mayor is under HIM's thumb, and when he finally messes up one too many times, HIM has him "taken care of." However, that's like towards the middle (?) of the story. So, in the end, Bubbles only has her grandmother.

Blossom: Two moms! Ms. Bellum and an unidentifiable second mother, who isn’t important (lol). 2nd mother isn't dead or anything, and she's happily married to Ms. Bellum--she's literally just one of those "mentioned in passing characters who are constantly out of town." Ms. Bellum is the Mayor's secretary, which Blossom uses to her advantage.

PLOT

The story starts out with the girls in kindergarten. Bubbles and Blossom are friends because Bubbles is the only person who doesn't think nerdy lil Blossom is annoying/socially awkward/too smart for her own good. Blossom in turn doesn't make fun of Bubbles being a crybaby. Buttercup's kind of a bully, but she's really just mad that her family had to move to Townsville. Ms. Keane (BC's mother) finally has enough of Buttercup's rebellious attitude and makes her sit with Bubbles and Blossom. Together the three girls find themselves in a confusing and troublesome situation: what happened to their class pet Twiggy??? (that hamster in that one episode). They solve the mystery (i.e. Mitch), and Ms. Keane frees Buttercup from the "loser lame-o sissy table." Except Buttercup ends up staying because *spoilers* they become best friends. (and she likes solving mysteries with them)

FASTFORWARD TO HIGHSCHOOL-ISH AGE

The girls are as thick as thieves and have a bad habit of sticking their noses where they don't belong. Blossom's the brains of the operation, Buttercup the muscle, and Bubbles is the obligatory "guyssss you promised we were going to the mall today not solving crime!" (Like Arnold from the Magic School bus who's like "oh please let this be a normal field trip!" And everyone is like "With Bloss and BC?! No Way!")

They've hit a "mystery" dry spell. At this point, none of their "mysteries" have been high stakes. Just petty stuff, but BC wants more. After another bust, she goes home and overhears her father (who's still a high-profile scientist) on the phone talking about the "odd mutant/monster-like" sightings that happened a few days ago in Townsville Central Park. Buttercup takes it as an opportunity to 1) help her dad and win his favor (that she already has smh) and 2) to break the dry spell she and the girls were going through, so they set off to investigate. To protect their identities, the girls essentially "mask up" and by the end of the story are described by the Townsville News as vigilantes.

Eventually, the girls stumble headfirst into Townsville's underbelly and the adults in their lives are all connected. They find that there is in fact a mutant uprising that has an overwhelming connection to the Professor, his ex-lab partner, the Mayor, and a mysterious man only referred to as HIM. And, of course, Chemical-X. X was the once abandoned project of the Professor and his once lab partner Mojo Jojo. It was supposed to be a miracle medicine! Now, in Townsville's underbelly, it's a popular/very dangerous drug/commodity.

At one point in the past, during a fit of rage, Mojo had mutated himself with an unstable vial of the chemical—accidentally--and fleed with the only "perfect" vial. He runs into a sickly man (who becomes HIM) and is conned out of the chemical. HIM takes the chemical and it "cures" him from his disease. It also gives him "superpowers." (NOTE: chemical-x superpowers varies person to person) However, the chemical is also unstable, and now HIM wants (NEEDS) a better formula, one that isn’t tainted (as Mojo still cannot figure out how to make it correctly) and will do anything for it. This is something that HIM believes the Professor can do. So, the Professor is essentially blackmailed into working for HIM (like most everyone who is in a position of power in Townsville). It's an expensive endeavor, so HIM sells the "almost perfect" batches (which in small doses can make a person feel invincible, but is highly addictive) to the crime syndicates. If you take an "almost perfect" version of Chemical-X, you generally need to keep micro-dosing to stay alive or your body starts to fail. (This is why HIM needs that PERFECT version)

Unbeknownst to everyone, The Professor was only ever able to perfect the formula once and it was by complete accident. (the version HIM had gotten was very close to perfect, but not all the way). Even the Professor doesn't know how he did it. (But that's because it wasn't the Professor who had perfected it--the Girls had done it accidentally during a sleepover in middle school (which the ever studious Blossom had recorded in her notebook). The Girls had been playing "scientist."

However, the Professor HAS figured out an Antidote-X. Again results vary. His version works best on the lab rats the original research group had experimented on. Blossom ends up perfecting Antidote-X for humans and the Girls are able to reserve mutations they come across on their "patrols", which pisses HIM off to no end, resulting in a bounty on their head. (He doesn't like the lose in profits)

As more mutants begin to appear and HIM becomes more frustrated at the lack of progress, Townsville becomes a darker place. At the height of this frustration, he kills the Mayor (who was wanting to break ties with HIM b/c of Bubbles' pleading). At that point, the Girls know who HIM is and what he is capable of. Since they have no one of authority to turn to that can stop HIM, they work together to create the perfected chemical-x like they had all those years ago in hopes that they can appease HIM and free the Professor.

The Girls figure out the formula, and in a race to save the City and, most importantly, the Professor, they confront HIM. Because they're kids, they naively think that they can trade the formula for BC's dad. It doesn't end up working out as they planned. In the end, HIM injects BC w/chemical-x (PERFECTED version), and she gains superhuman powers. To keep the ending vague, the Girls end up saving the day ;)

Important Characters the Girls Encounter:

Amoeba Brothers: the brothers are the first failed chemical-x test created by the Professor's research team that did not result in death. They haunt the sewers after they escaped the lab. They are the Girls first encounter with the mutations/mutants running rampant in the City

Gang Green Gang: Delinquents chosen by the City to be injected. Again, the tests failed. Had temporary "powers" but they teetered off quickly and the boys permanently stayed green (weird side-effect)

Bunny: Sad. She is also a failed test, but she is mutated while the Girls are actively investigating the case. She has super strength and was able to break out of the lab. The Girls hunt her down and they end up trying to help her. However, she passes away. This has a lasting effect on the girls.

Sedusa: she's definitely in the story idk how yet. lol. I just really like her as a character.

Princess: For financial support, HIM promised Mr. Morebucks that'd he'd give Princess superpowers like she wanted when the formula is perfected. But she’s mad, impatient, and power-hungry. In the end, sick of HIM's games and the Professors inability to give her what she wants, she injects herself with the chemical. It works for a bit, and HIM's like "holy shit did we do it??" but after a few days, she becomes unstable. (Her death is captured during live television b/c she makes her superhero debut a Whole Thing). Knows Blossom and Bubbles b/c of their parents. Doesn't like them. Doesn't bother to learn BC's name. Just canonically a brat.

The RRB: Adopted by HIM (and Mojo) "out of the goodness of their hearts." (PR stunt). They were really adopted to be test subjects, but HIM ended up liking them more than anticipated, so HIM decided that they'd be injected AFTER chemical-x is perfected. Absolute shit-heads. They can do whatever they want and no one can tell them "no." They cause havoc for the Girls to keep them off HIM's tail. Drive futuristic motorcycles that leave "light trials." Mad that they can't pin down who the Girls are.

[haberdashing]

Labyrinth

Statement of Avery Horner regarding her experiences with an unusual patch of forest in a local park.

on AO3

Statement of Avery Horner regarding her experiences with an unusual patch of forest within a local park. Original statement given February 6th, 2020. Recording by Artemis Lee, archival assistant for the Usher Foundation.

Statement begins.

Okay, before I get into what happened to me specifically, I should probably give you guys some background. I mean, you’ll probably dig up a lot of the same information eventually--I assume, anyway, I don’t really know a ton about how all this works--but I might as well save you the trouble, right?

So, this is about a park right by my house called Old Pines Park. You’ve got my address from the intake forms, shouldn’t be hard to find from there, it’s literally right down the street from me.

The first weird thing about the place is that there are no pine trees in Old Pines Park. As far as I know, there never have been. There aren’t too many pine trees in the surrounding area, either; just not the right climate for them, I think? Could be named after someone named Pines, I suppose, but the time I tried looking into it I didn’t find much, certainly not detailed information about some famous person from my boring suburban hometown with that surname. That’s just... what the park’s called, for whatever reason.

Also, despite the park being, like I said, right down the block from where I live, I don’t have much in the way of childhood memories associated with the place. There’s a fair few parks in the area, though, so maybe it’s just that all the other parks had bigger playgrounds or nicer scenery or more sports equipment or whatever. It’s not the biggest park around, and I wouldn’t be surprised if some people didn’t even know it was tucked away back there, just an old playground and a grassy field with a small, dirty pond in it.

And the woods.

That’s the main thing I want to talk about--the woods there. Calling it “the woods” is probably- no, definitely overstating things, but I’m not sure what else to call it. It’s on the edge of the field, just a somewhat-thin strip of land where the trees are much denser than elsewhere, to where you can’t see through to the other side.

When I was growing up, my mom always told me not to go in the woods there. She claimed they’d found a woman’s body there once, though I never really believed her. I looked it up not too long ago, though, and sure enough, there’s a news article from when I was a kid about a body being found in Old Pines Park. Didn’t say it was in the woods, but I believe it. Didn’t say what had happened to the body, either, or whose body it was. Just a brief blurb, “jogger finds body,” end of story, apparently.

Come to think of it, I’ve never seen anyone jogging in Old Pines Park, especially not in the woods--the landscape’s not exactly the most conducive to exercise--but the news article definitely said it was a jogger who’d found the body. Why’s it always seem to be joggers who find dead bodies like that?

Anyway.

I actually listened to my mom about not going in the woods for longer than you’d probably expect. I never had much of a rebellious teenager phase, and what little rebellion I did attempt didn’t involve the park just down the road. I think I went in the woods once with a friend when I was a kid, but I barely remember any of it, and I don’t think we went far. It wasn’t until after I’d gotten back from college that I decided to see what the woods had in store. (Yes, I live in the same house after college graduation that I did throughout my whole childhood. Not proud of it, but it is what it is, I guess.) I didn’t tell my mom what I was doing, didn’t tell anyone, just went out exploring by myself.

There’s a clear entrance to the woods on the end of the park closest to my house, an opening where the trees part and you can walk through without any difficulty. The ground dips down a bit where the rest of the park ends and the woods begin, and depending how much it’s rained sometimes there’s a bit of water there, but it’s not hard to get past.

I didn’t get very far the first time, though. Just a few feet from this entrance and the sometimes-stream beside it, there’s a chain link fence that blocks off part of the way--and more importantly, there’s a hole in that chain link fence that’s plenty big for a person to get through. On the other side of these strange, mysterious woods is... a strip mall. There’s a few fast food restaurants, a furniture store, a bunch of storefronts for sale. Nothing that exciting, really, except...

Okay, don’t laugh, but I’m really into Pokemon Go, even now. And that strip mall has a Pokestop in it--one of the places you go to get more items in the game. Dunno why, since there’s nothing that neat there, but it does. So for months I’d occasionally go through the woods just far enough to get through that hole in the fence, spin the Pokestop in the strip mall, and head back. I’m not exactly the most adventurous person out there, so even that was a bit of a thrill to me, especially knowing that it’d been forbidden back in my childhood.

At some point I noticed that the hole in the fence that let me cut through to the strip mall had changed--before it was just like a bit of fence had been torn out entirely, but now a metal bar around shoulder height was still in place, so I had to duck down when making my way through. Still plenty of space to get through, though, so it didn’t really bother me; it was just a bit odd, especially since I hadn’t seen any in-between stages where the fence got built up before being torn down again.

One day I was out walking my dog, Biscuit, and after I popped through the fence and back I decided to go further into the woods, see what I could find.

First off, I didn’t notice it so much when I was just ducking in and out, but while the area’s objectively pretty small, when you’re in the woods of Old Pines Park, it really feels like... well, like you’re in the middle of the woods. The foliage is dense, and there’s not too much to remind you of civilization besides that fence on the side and the occasional garbage wrapper.

Biscuit and I followed the fence along for a bit--I figured it’d be easy enough to find our way back with that as a landmark--and we found a decent-sized stream that must lead into the park’s pond, but where it comes from I’ve got no idea, since everything’s built up around here and there’s not much in the way of rivers. I vaguely remembered seeing the stream before, maybe that one time I went with a friend, but it was still an interesting sight. It didn’t look like some pristine bit of nature, though--the water was discolored, and the wrappers and similar debris I’d noticed before seemed to be clustered around the stream.

We kept going, and before too long I found a second hole in the chain link fence. This I definitely didn’t remember from my one foray into the woods in childhood. Looking through it, I saw a white building that looked pretty big, and kind of industrial? It was pretty nondescript, and I’ve forgotten most of the details of it by now, I just know it was big and white and I had no clue what it was or what could be inside, even though basic geography suggests it must only be a few blocks from my house at most. I thought about going through, but it looked like the sort of building where you could get in trouble for being on the premises without permission, and I wasn’t looking to get arrested for trespassing, so I just kept going.

I think this was about the time I checked my phone--I still had Pokemon Go open, I usually do whenever I leave the house, I’ve joked with my mom before about how convenient it is that I always have a GPS in my hand--and noticed that it wasn’t getting a signal. Specifically, the game still showed, but there were no features on the map, no Pokemon, nothing to indicate where I was. It didn’t say that it was having trouble with the GPS, though, it just... didn’t load the map at all.

The woods got thicker and denser as I moved on, and eventually there wasn’t much of a path left to follow alongside the fence as there had been. The only thing close to a path, inasmuch as I wouldn’t be attacked by tree branches if I followed it, led away from the fence and deeper into the woods. I figured what the hell, and I followed the sort-of-path further in, even though it took me away from the fence, from the one major landmark this place had.

I went kind of slow at first, but Biscuit kept pulling me along. She was loving it. Maybe she’d just gotten sick of taking the same path every walk and was glad for the chance to explore, smell new things, wander a bit. A few times I had to pull her back and remind her that while she could get through that tiny gap in the trees, I couldn’t, so we’d have to find another way around. (Biscuit’s a pretty small dog, so she’s good at fitting through narrow spaces like that.)

As I kept walking, the path, such as it was, got less and less clear, and I stopped seeing any garbage laying around, any signs that this place had been touched by human hands before. I had to do a fair bit of ducking and weaving to keep going without getting scratched up too badly, but Biscuit was so excited about the whole thing that I felt it was worth it.

Then the path went from hard to find to just straight up not there, and I went to turn around, and... I couldn’t see the fence behind me. I could swear we hadn’t gone that far--I didn’t think the woods were even spread out enough that we could go that far--but apparently we’d managed to leave the fence behind.

I did my best to backtrack, but it was slow going, especially since the “path” had never been an actual path with clear markings, just the way that was most devoid of trees that would slap me in the face. Also probably doesn’t help that I have a horrible sense of direction--that’s one reason I like having a GPS in my hand at all times, but the map on it still wasn’t working. Biscuit didn’t seem to get what I was trying to do but then, hey, that’s dogs for you, am I right?

I felt like I kept going in circles, like I wasn’t getting anywhere, and I still couldn’t see the fence, and I was succeeding less and less in my “don’t get scratched by stray tree branches” goal, and I had no idea where the entrance I’d gone through was from here, or the garbage-laden stream, or any other landmark I could use for guidance...

What I ended up doing was just letting Biscuit lead the way. I figure dogs have a good sense of smell, maybe their sense of direction is good too. She always seems to know which way to turn on our usual walks, too, so maybe this would be the same? At the very least, it couldn’t hurt... well, it could, but so could continuing to wander around aimlessly on my own devices. It sounds ridiculous, I imagine, but... I trust this dog, and I know she trusts me too, and I figured if I couldn’t get us back home, maybe she could.

And it worked. Not too long after I just did my best to give in to Biscuit’s pulling and let her be the guide, she led me in one direction, and sure enough, the fence reappeared, and I could see one of the holes in it in the distance.

You’d better believe we stayed right up against that fence for the rest of our trip in the woods, up until we stumbled back out of the entrance.

My phone buzzed right as we left the woods, and the map was back, everything displaying just fine. But as I looked at my phone more closely, I noticed the time on it was only three minutes after I’d decided to go further into the woods than I normally did. I don’t know how long I spent in there, but I am damn sure it was longer than three minutes.

Since then, I’ve gone back to only popping through to reach the strip mall, and even that I’m not doing as much as I used to... and last time I went to do that, the hole in the fence was different, with some metal wiring still in place near the foot of the hole as well as that metal bar. More importantly, though, there was a No Trespassing sign up. I don’t know how many other people know about the hole in the fence there, how many other locals have figured out that little trick, but I couldn’t help but think that sign was put there specifically for me. Still don’t feel like getting arrested for trespassing, so I just turned around and left, Pokestop be damned.

The sign only forbids crossing the fence into the strip mall, though. It doesn’t forbid walking deeper into the woods again.

And part of me wants to go back, to go even further into the woods. I want to see if I can find my way out the other end all by myself. There must be a way, right? I mean, that stretch of land only goes on for so long, it’s not that big of a park. I’ve been resisting the urge for a while now, but I keep thinking about it. I feel like it’s not a matter of if I’ll go back in the woods, it’s when. 

I wouldn’t bring Biscuit along, though. Partly because I want to see how much I could do without her help and without her pulling me through gaps I can’t pass through, but partly because... if anything happens to me when I’m in there, if I end up like that woman whose body got found in there all those years ago, I want to make sure Biscuit doesn’t get in trouble with me.

It’s one thing to take risks like that for yourself, but I wouldn’t do that to someone I love. That’s going a step too far for me.

Statement ends.