#the middle of this venn diagram is: girls

[junco-baby]

being excited to listen to both hana vu and Dua lipa's new albums is a pretty good representation of my range in taste of music tbh

[eskawrites]

Pause.

Karen Wheeler gets Vecna’d.

She’s been a target since summer of 1985, since a shadow whispered to Billy Hargrove, shut her up, kill her, bring her to me.

And oh, what a target she is. So miserable with her perfect life. Already reaching for the bottle, grasping for any escape, however dangerous it is. Drowning in the guilt that she regrets her choices, regrets her family, regrets her children. Maybe if she didn’t, maybe if she could just be happy with her life, she could be a better mother. And maybe, if she was just a better mother, she could protect her kids from the danger that always seems to lurk in Hawkins.

So Karen starts getting headaches. She attributes it to the stress of sending Mike across the country, of figuring out what to do with Holly during spring break, of worrying about Nancy, wearing her Emerson shirt and standing with one foot out the door already.

It’s easy to forget about it in the chaos of everything happening after the championship game. And it makes sense that everyone else is too distracted to notice that something is wrong.

Meanwhile, the Hawkins gang saves Max and immediately decides to figure out who the next victim will be. They gear up with walkmans and cassettes and scribbled out lists of everyone’s favorite songs. Nancy feels herself pulled in all directions—trying to keep Max safe, putting on a brave face for the rest of the kids, coming up with plans to keep the group moving, worrying about Mike and Will and El and Jonathan half a country away, reconnecting with Steve while trying not to break his heart again, and fighting this increasingly overwhelming draw she feels toward Robin Buckley of all people. It’s too much for one person to deal with, but she’ll never admit that. What choice does she have but to keep going?

Until a police car pulls up at wherever the group is hiding out now, scaring everyone half to death. But the sheriff only asks for Nancy with a weary expression. “Your mother’s been acting strange. I don’t know what’s going on with you kids, or anyone else in this town for that matter, but your father’s no help and she seemed rattled enough we don’t really want to leave her on her own.”

Nancy presses for more information, tries to get details, but she already knows. Before the others piece it together, before Max realizes even, Nancy knows.

God. She doesn’t even know her mother’s favorite song.

They split the party, half of them going with Eddie to hide out at Steve’s house, but Nancy, Max, Robin, and Lucas head back to the Wheeler’s.

Cue trauma and shenanigans from there, like Ted really being no help at all, and Holly not knowing much but knowing that everything is wrong, and Karen barely even looking at Nancy no matter what she says or does. Robin searching the entire house for something that seems like it could be Karen’s favorite song, trying to get answers out of Ted and earning herself a place on his bad side as she does, bumping into Holly and awkwardly trying to make her feel better by asking for her help finding the right song. Max and Lucas hovering awkwardly, but Max refuses to leave because if Vecna strikes maybe she can help, and Lucas refuses to leave because it’s Max, he’s always going to be there for her. The rest of the kids staying in touch with walkies and trying desperately to get a hold of Mike back in California.

And maybe Nancy still has her vision, but this time Vecna taunts her with her mother, the final victim, standing right in front of her and she can’t do anything to help her. And Nancy has known she’s cursed, that she poisons everything she touches, since that stupid party back in 1983, but it has never been so paralyzing as it is right now.

[smoqueen]

people who have never done martial arts imagine that the best fighters on earth are like ... no drinking no smoking no eating fatty food ripped gymrat workout turkeys... first of all yoel romero smokes like a chimney and drinks more hennessey than that girl youre trying to fuck and second of all watch this

[jkjs]

i cant explain this but i like t/otonyaa the same way i like jh

[neapolitanhaha]

I feel like the Mabel Pines kin and the Jonathan Sims kin are contradictory

Here you have the upbeat, enthusiastic, usually positive, high-energy teenage girl

And the tired, traumatized, sarcastic, nerdy 40+ year old man

If they had a venn diagram, next to nothing would be in the middle.

Correction. Jon is 20-ish 30-ish

[cherubispunk]

NEPHILIM: BAMBI - Jackson-era!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: when does a human stop being regarded as a human…and, instead, seen as something different entirely?

a note from Lucy: No smut? Huh? Someone check my temperature please. I liked writing Nephilim so much that I decided to do a small Drabble of the exact moment Bambi got her name. Think of it as a prequel of sorts. Takes place soon after Bambi recovers from sepsis. Enjoy!

playlist | moodboard

wc: 1563

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! no use of y/n but reader is referred to as ‘Bambi’, no physical description of reader apart from ‘long lashes’, brief descriptions of injury and blood, religious imagery, use of guns/ being taught to shoot, me not remembering how to shoot even though I was taught how to so there may be inaccuracies lolsies, Joel is a little bit of a dick but it’s only because he cares!

series masterlist | m.list

Psalm 18:33 He maketh my feet like hinds' feet, and setteth me upon my high places.

When does the man become the monster? Is it his first kill? Or maybe his first thought of pulling the trigger? It might be the moment he picks up the gun. When the metal is cold in calloused palm. A human would find it heavy and unwelcoming. A monster might find it a comforting thing though. To know he is protected at his own hand. Are they even entirely separate? A person may be both at once. Monster. Human. Who is the righteous one, the wise one, who draws the line. Is it God? The people? And how thin of a line is it?

Joel could be both. In the Venn Diagram, the spectrum of Monster and Man, he resided in the very middle. That’s what they told you anyway. You took it with a pinch of salt. Thought it a rather hypocritical comment to make for no one in this world was truly pure of sin. Even the lamb grazes the grass that the foal could have. Though Joel thought you came damn close to purity. He now associated the colour of your eyes with innocence. Conditioned to the thought whenever he saw it in nature, or in a person's clothing. Slaved away to keep it. Protect it. Was a man that protected truly a monster? Because the things he did, the sin he committed, the blood on his hands, was all in the name of protection in one way or another.

He quite liked being alone before. But the more time he spent engaging in the odd conversation with you, the more he realised how dull it was to talk to himself. He and himself were only acquaintances. You felt more like a friend. His first real friend since Tess.

So maybe the question is this; When does a human stop being regarded as a human…and, instead, seen as something different entirely?

—

“I can’t do it.” You huffed, looking back at him and dropping your arms. In your hands was Joel’s rifle. The weight of it foreign and uncomfortable. The trigger cold, and your fingertip not calloused enough for it to feel like it belonged. The metal bit back. It said ‘you don’t belong here’. It commanded you: ‘Give me back’. The weight of it was unsettling. In your hand was the weight of a life taken. Or a life spared. And yet he stood behind you with his arms crossed, his brow set in stone, furrowed together in a frown akin to the busts of Caracalla. Narrowed hawk eye on your poor form. Unsteady on your feet and uncertain with your trigger finger.

“You can.” He replied, voice clipped and snippy. Not giving you a choice. “And you will.” He spoke in such a grating edge it seemed he was frustrated merely through your apprehension. “Eject the cartridge.” So you sighed, abiding his words, pressing the butt of the rifle into the crook of your shoulder and staring down the barrel at the tree you hadn’t landed even a graze on once. “Feet shoulder width apart, girl.” He reprimanded. Joel had repeated that one point about five times now in the past hour. And each time you’d forgotten. Something as simple as the planting of your feet on the snow blanketed ground. Your mind was in disarray and a disconnect with your body.You looked down at your feet and shuffled them wider apart.

You felt his strict grip find temporary and telling purchase on your hips, jerking you side on so the foot the side of your non-trigger hand pointed towards the target. Even through layers of winter clothing his touch made you shiver far more than any biting winter wind could. “Like this.” That tone again. It was windburn on your cheeks. It was pins and needles in your feet. Unpleasant, painful, and long enduring.

“Sorry.” You mumbled.

“Don’t be sorry. Be better.” And he stepped back to observe once more.

He didn’t do it to be mean. He didn’t say it to be curt, and rude. He did it for your benefit. Because one day your loose tongue would very well find you without it entirely. Still, it hurt. To know he was so willing with criticism and so restrained with compliments. He must bite his tongue so often that it grows back sharp. It felt like lashes from the cat of nine tails upon your back; Your skin now lacerated and tender from each blow. Regardless, you swallowed the lump in your throat whole. It could suffer and scorn and burn in your churning stomach. You inhaled, and on the exhale you pulled the trigger.

Miss.

You huffed again, utterly defeated. Your heart seemed to sink lower when you looked at him. His face still set with the same Caracalla frown.

“Again.”

“What’s the point, Joel?” You protested for the second time. Desperate to go back to town and wallow. To not have to face that grimace. You felt like a child, waiting for that fateful ‘I’m not angry, just disappointed’ speech. “I’m not a violent person. I’m not like you. I’m not—“ the words faltered as you tried to find them. You stopped yourself before you could blurt the first that came to mind. But he knew. Joel always knew. He didn’t need to say anything for you to admit it. Merely raise a brow and dare you, urge you further.

“Y’should think before y’speak.” You nodded at his words, eyes trained on his boots. “Again.”

Too ashamed to fight any further, already treading on thin ice and skidding miserable on wobbly doe legs. Too soon would you thud to the floor and plunge into the icy waters below. You must find your footing again.

It was in this very shame you obeyed, picking up the weapon again with bated breath and aiming. But your mind was elsewhere. It scattered like the spray of a shotgun's fire. Your form was off. You’d lost that stance from before. And you were too busy in your own head to even think about paying attention to the tree trunk down the other end of the barrel. You fired without the inhale before as well as the beat of your exhale. The recoil was strong, the butt of the rifle ricocheting into your shoulder causing an ache to dissolve through flesh and sink to bone. The sound was jarring, it rang in your ears, rattled in your head. And you lost your footing, stumbling back with the force towards the snow.

Joel saw it coming. He expected you to right your footwork. To breathe in and fire on the exhale. But the sound of the bullet leaving the chamber came before any of the aforementioned. A simple stride in haste and he was behind you, stopping you before you fell to the floor.

“Jesus, Bambi!” Joel gritted through his teeth when you collided. The sound was becoming less jarring. But the name. The name was new. It was fresh. And ripe. A fruit that would never rot. Be eternally sweet. He had thought about it before; You had these wide eyes that looked up at him through thick lashes. You were tentative with your footing. And uneasy on your feet when it was cold. He remembered when he found you in the snow; Curled up on your side with the flesh wound under your trembling palm, bleeding through your shirt and gaps between frail fingers. He thought of a doe just born. Fresh and pure. So vulnerable it ached to not reach out and nurture it. When he looked into those eyes, the eyes of the woman in his arms, he saw it all again. A picture that was printed on the backs of his eyelids when he slept. Or where he blinked for that matter. In waking and in sleep, it haunted him. Whispered in his ear with a warm breath that paralleled the alive and beating. He felt a sharp sting in his heart. He didn't know it then, but it was Eros’ arrow. He would know soon enough.

You shared the time between the words and the writhing of your feet. Shared it with a stare in imperturbable silence. A simmering, deep stare. It wasn’t deep in the sense of a gaping void. More like a watering hole. Something that promised plentiful supply and the chance of survival. The satiation of the unquenchable.

You would learn one day that his love for you can quench any thirst, satiate any hunger and rest any fatigue. All this and he would still be left thirsty, starving and exhausted. Accept him for what he is. Heavy handed, colossal, brutal. Loving, nurturing, tender. Just a man. Give him on chance — one meagre, single moment in time — and he’d decay at the swipe of his tongue across the bottom of your lip alone; Finding a homage for him between them. A feeling he would wish to indulge in selfishly cradling his beating chest. And maybe, just this once, he will let himself be selfish with something that wasn't just for the purpose of survival.

So I beg of you, contemplate: if a man deemed a monster can still love, if a man named the devil can see innocence, grace, beauty, and nurture it— is the man still a monster? Something else entirely? Or is he just human?

[cepheusgalaxy]

Ok I'm gonna be very real for a second. I get it where the whole "trans mascs don't face discrimination for being trans mascs" argument comes from.

Trans women are trans and are woman, so they face both transphobia and misoginy. Like in a venn diagram. If transphobia is in one sphere and misoginy on the other, then transmisoginy sits at the middle, at this intersection.

Trans men are trans and are men, so they face transphobia, but not "misandry", because, well, misandry doesn't exist, so there isn't really a thing to transphobia to intersect with.

But this is a very, very simplistic way of seeing how people, trans people relate with gender.

Trans men don't have the same relationship with masculinity that cis men do. In queer spaces, for example, masc trans people are many times denied space because of this association with masculinity. That affects masc trans women and non-transmasc intersex people too. How couldn't it? Because we are "men", but we don't get the so known Men Benefits. We are The Enemy. But "the enemy" doesn't see us as one of them.

This hate of men many people have doesn't really affect your Non-Queer Cis Man. But it affects trans people. Sometimes it's not even just the hating of men. But the conception that men are like this or like that and are perverts or agressive or mean or automatically bad people that comes from sexist ideas that want to take the responsability of misoginistic men out of them by blaming it on their Inherent Nature also hurts trans people. Transmisandry is not something that intercepts transphobia with "misandry". It's a shade of oppresion that composes a lot of different factors that affect not only trans men, but any trans person percieved as a man at any given time, and that's why it's such an important word.

And as a side note, I also don't like the terms "TMA" and "TME". Like, think with me for a minute. Trans people have schrodinher's gender. We are women when it can be used against us and men when it can also be. We are nothing when it conveniences our oppressors, and they just see us as anything they see fit. We know that some trans woman get confused as trans men. We know some trans men get confused as trans women. So, if things are like that, than trans people all face exorsexism, transmisoginy and transandrophobia depending on circumstance. For them, we aren't "trans men" or "trans women". We are all trans freaks that may be "dangerous men" or "confused stupid girls" or "genderless gruesome freaks" as they see fit. So saying someone is "trans-misoginy-exempt" just sounds real silly. Yeah, perhaps in this given situation, but we all know that can very well change literally any time.

I think that, this way, TMA and TME could be better used as descriptors for states or situations, and not as identities. "I am transmisoginy excenpt at this moment." "I am transmisoginy affected in this other situation". I think being used this flexibly would benefit us very greatly

Anyways. Thank you for hearing my two cents. I'm gonna watch Hunter X Hunter now.

[cloudbends]

[ID: a 3 section venn diagram, depicting in each a circle a character from different media: mitsumi iwakura from the manga “skip and loafer” in a pink circle, tome kurata from the manga “mob psycho 100″ in a teal circle, and midori asakusa from the anime “keep your hands off eizouken” in a purple circle. the crossover section between mitsumi and tome reads “over ther top career aspirations”, the crossover section between mitsumi and asakusa reads “country bumpkins, short TM”, and the crossover section between tome and asakusa reads “wanted by the student council for illegally forming a club”. the middle crossover of all three reads “highschool girls with a spikey dark bob haircut who are unapologetically weird, passionate, and iconic as hell”. end ID.]

came to me in a dream. obsessed with whatever brand of character this is fr

[nadekofannumber1]

Kizu comp was good!

I feel like the added scenes helped convey thematic intent well, and it was fun to see more seishiro since I believe I read somewhere that one of nisio’s regrets about kizu is not putting him enough in there. You definitely can’t say that it’s possible to miss the fact Koyomi is suicidal (which was a narrative understanding bump I feel like many failed to see with initial kizu). The cutdown on the silly aspects for the sake of side novel content was so good, it helped emphasize the parallel narrative of Koyomi and Shinobu, “we are killing ourselves for eachother.” I really liked it but I’ll say more when it’s done stewing.

I think the funniest thing to actively think out is the prefis for the gag of oshino meme smokes but doesn’t light it because “it would be easier for the animators to draw” (nisio’s words not mine, this is a running gag in early monogatari joking about an anime adaptation, this is present in og kizu novel) but the constant taking out of cigarettes he’s not smoking and tossing them is funny. (Some in theatre antics were funny also but that’s just bc the people generally watching kizu comp are the people who already watched/pirated/streamed, kizu

I feel like for those who watched this movie it’s gonna be really positive effect wise for acerola bon appatite part 2, perhaps to them it may become peak fiction (new watch order where you watch kizu 3 films in the beginning but the movie comp in the middle of waza’s first original arc

As nadekofannumber1 I can connect this to Nadeko but won’t today for the sake of brevity.

As a parallels fan I can connect the narrative to Ougi and hachikuji. (It’s a Venn diagram)

Anyway,

A true “killing myself” boy meets “killing myself girl” meats “super killing myself” girl story for the ages.

[hydrogenuranium]

What your favorite Hazbin Hotel Character says about you (part 2)

Vox: Tech crew of the school play *derogatory

Valentino: Valentino fans deal with so much shit from within the fandom, I am not going to come after them as well

Vevette: Inside of you there are two wolves, and they are both girls and they're kissing because. YOU'RE. GA-

Carmilla: You do not have a mommy fetish and you definitely aren't gay *Lie detector goes off*

Zestial: You are not attracted to daddies, you are attracted to Fathers™. Yes there is a difference

Rosie: You fall in the middle of very specific venn diagram of: "horror movie enthusiast " and "devout lesbian"

Adam: "Why are all my boyfriend's man-children?" Besties this is your type. Just accept it.

Lute: Trash-talking pro, you have never once been beaten in an agreement and I respect you for that. You were also the girl in middle school went to the office for yelling cuss words at people

(Alternatively)

Vevette: You aren't that picky when it comes to women, you just want them to step on you're neck

Carmilla: I'll say it again, there are other hobbies besides being stepped on by women. GO DO THEM

Lute: Are you trying to make me hate gay people, a third character who is just "woman I want to step on me." ARE YOU KIDDING ME

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

@ckhalloween23

Here is my submission for the Week 2 prompt "Witches"--a preview from a new fic I'm working, Flower of Lemon and Feather of Shrike! I decided to do a deep dive into Yasmine's drastically OOC Season 4 behavior, and explore a scenario where its origin is...a bit more sinister than poor writing or repressed lesbianism aknskfnhdrf

This one isn't just for the YasMoon girlies, but in fact for all the girlies who thought Yasmine Nolastname was big boi screwed over in S4, and deserved better!!! Even the foulest of bitchy bullies don't deserve to be reduced to a trophy girlfriend and a prop for a male character's storyline, especially when said male character is a pretty garbage boyfriend when it comes right down to it </3 (More on that later!!!)

This one is also for the MoonPiper girlies, because god, were we fucked over too D: Also actually (mostly) canon compliant, except H*wkM**n never ever get back together and stay broken up forever and always amen peace and love on planet earth <3 <3 <3 <3

There's no world where I will acknowledge this stupid ship got undeadified like a horrendous, nonsensical, chemistry-devoid zombie when it had long since run its narrative course and played its role in both Eli and Moon's arcs can you tell awehakureyigsrf

This is Moon's POV and Yasmine and Moon-centric, but I left the shippier parts ambiguous since I wanted to make something that my non-shipper friends can enjoy too ^^; There are feelings on Moon's side but as far as I'm concerned that's basically canon lmao like did you SEE that girl in S4??? She was so thirsty for Blondie that I'm genuinely shocked the showrunners didn't tell Hannah Kepple to stop kanhdskufhd Definitely tried to leave Yasmine's feelings more up in the air, though! Interpret her however you like ^^

Fic preview under the cut! As always, moodboard pic credits available upon request!

***

The phone line cuts off, and Yasmine’s name disappears from the screen.

Moon curls into her pillow, erupting in ragged sobs. She can’t remember the last time she’s felt this helpless.

This entirely consumed by pure, raw emotion.

Her mind is a whirlpool, everything Yasmine spat at her twisting around and around and around. None of it seems real.

Because Moon can’t wrap around her head around meaning nothing to Yasmine. She can’t make sense of a world where she was only a pawn—someone for the repressed queen bee to “experiment” with. Someone to cater to Yasmine’s whims and fulfill her every desire and ask nothing in return.

Yasmine was everything to Moon. Moon was nothing to Yasmine. And how did that make any fucking sense?

Moon’s hands knot into the covers, a scream ripping from her throat. Somewhere amid the blinding torrent of heartbreak and rage, she finds herself tearing incense sticks from her drawers and lighting candles with shaking hands.

She always swore to herself she’d never touch the rear section of her spellbook, pages marked with a black tab. But if Yasmine can’t keep her promises, why should Moon?

Her chest burns as she recites the incantation.

“By flower of lemon and feather of shrike I bid you know what this pain is like”

*

“Maybe we could meet in the middle? Like a…sexual Venn diagram?”

Yasmine’s face twists in disgust. Moon only rolls her eyes.

She would tell Demetri to stop being a creep, but she knows he doesn’t mean it. Just playing the part he thinks he should after girls have started noticing him.

And Moon knows what it’s like to hide your authentic self to better fit a mold. She’s eternally thankful Piper taught her better.

“So what’s under the blanket?” she prompts.

As Demetri begins his demonstration, Yasmine’s expression shifts. “Not bad. My parents might not have to pay for an A this time.”

Moon can’t help feeling a bit surprised.

So Yasmine’s taking the “be a little nicer” advice to heart, at least. A hint of gratitude toward anyone is a first.

And then the soccer ball comes.

Her panic strips away her new cordiality. Moon knows exactly where her friend’s mind goes.

She’s about to be the “dumb blonde” again—the vapid, useless pretty girl who always has to bribe her way to a pass. And it makes her feel so disgustingly helpless.

“Do you have another one?” A last-ditch attempt to save her grade without her family’s intervention.

As she watches the altercation play out, Moon could slice the tension between Hawk and Demetri with a knife. She’s never quite fancied herself an empath, but there’s something hauntingly familiar about the way Demetri’s entire body is trembling.

She sees herself, hunched up and bawling her eyes out. She sees the overpowering grief that tore free a side Moon didn’t even know she had.

Thank the gods nothing came of that episode.

When Sam arrives, Moon gives her a pleading look. Off she goes to rescue their big-mouthed friend, prepared to cut into Hawk with all the steel Moon could never quite work up.

“Are we gonna fail?”

The whisper in Moon’s ear is so lost. So broken.

Yasmine’s always been a mess. Moon supposes she should be flattered she’s one of the only people who’s ever gotten to see it.

“No.” She sighs. “Demetri’s smart. He’ll figure something out.”

*

“You’ll never guess what I saw yesterday.”

Sam leans over at the start of history class, smirk dancing across her lips.

“What?”

“Yasmine and Demetri are a thing.”

Moon knits her brow, confused.

“What’re you talking about?”

Sam sniggers. “I turned a corner in the hall and saw them making out, clear as day.”

Despite her best efforts, she can’t hide her alarm.

“Oh my god. Does she know he’s…?”

Demetri’s passes at Yasmine weren’t exactly genuine. Moon always thought Yas would be more intuitive about that sort of thing, especially considering the way she talked about Demetri when he first started hanging out with them.

“He’s what?”

“Um…never mind.”

It wasn’t Moon’s place to divulge Demetri’s business, especially when he hadn’t even figured it out himself. Or…didn’t want to admit certain things to himself, at least.

“Yasmine was pissed when Miguel and I caught them,” Sam goes on. “It was so funny. She insisted she’d never go out with him, but…you know. Unless you slipped me some LSD at lunch and I’m hallucinating, I have my doubts.”

She laughs again, clearly tickled pink by the whole thing. Moon only frowns.

“I’m so confused. All she’s ever done is complain about him.”

Her friend shrugs. “Denial’s not just a river in Egypt, I guess.”

“No, like. She thinks basically every single one of his interests is annoying. And she told me once that listening to him talk is like when you hit your brakes too fast and your whole car screeches.”

“Well, you know Yas. She thinks she’ll combust if she says something nice about anyone.”

“Right, but…” Moon narrows her eyes. “She’s picky as hell when it comes to dating. I, um…I would know. And Demetri’s the furthest possible thing from her type.”

“Opposites attract?”

“Not like that. I saw him try to explain basic particle physics to her one time and she nearly went to sleep. And that’s only the tip of the iceberg.”

“Maybe it’s just a physical thing. We both know how crazy hormones can be, right?”

Moon hopes for Yasmine’s sake that Sam is right. Otherwise…

Well, there’s probably no need to entertain that possibility.

*

“I love it when you talk nerdy.”

Moon’s so caught up in Yasmine’s sweeping, graceful movements that it takes a moment for the statement to sink in.

She always smiles when she watches her best friend. She can’t help it. Yasmine moves like a mountain waterfall—majestic and larger than life, all while flowing so seamlessly.

It isn’t until Yasmine lets Demetri pull her in, giggling like an elementary schooler, that Moon’s smile falls.

No, you don’t.

Because Moon knows Yasmine, and she knows she has a hatred for “nerd shit” that could rival Hawk at his worst.

She despises anything that makes her feel small. Unimportant. Insignificant.

Moon remembers the look on Yasmine’s face when Sam leaned away from their popular table, exchanging easy chemistry banter with Aisha. She remembers the dejected pout when lunchroom conversations turned to AP homework, Sam and Demetri so engrossed in what Yasmine called “stupid school garbage” that they forgot the blonde girl was even there.

Because as much as Yasmine makes out like she couldn’t care less about anything, she doesn’t like to be reminded that she isn’t book smart. That the math and science that come naturally to Sam and Aisha and Demetri and even Hawk don’t make a lick of sense to her.

Sure, Demetri’s knowledge was useful when it got Yas a good grade. But on its own?

It only reminds her how inadequate she feels. How inadequate Moon knows she’s always felt.

And it was good, in a way, that Aisha tearing Yasmine’s popularity asunder showed her that the world didn’t revolve around her. But Moon senses the deep hurt Yasmine still carries, seeing glimpses of the worlds she’ll never know how to be part of.

So when Yasmine says she loves Demetri’s “nerdspeak,” lust and desire rolling off her in waves, it feels like she was the victim of some Freaky Friday body swap.

People change. Of course they do.

But not like this. Not enough to forget their very sense of self.

“Save me a seat at lunch? Specifically…this one?”

The smack of Yasmine’s hand hitting Demetri’s asscheek reverberates through the hall. Moon has to laugh at the sheer absurdity.

Yasmine hasn’t lost her fire in some ways, at least.

And Demetri doesn’t seem to mind. Perhaps Moon’s assumption was wrong.

She and Yasmine head off to class, her friend fawning nonstop over her geeky boyfriend. Moon smiles and nods along, pushing down the unease swimming in her chest.

Moon picks up a whiff of Yasmine’s perfume, and realizes that it’s lemonflower.

*

Dragging Yasmine away from Demetri at the prom is like trying to bathe a cat.

Moon finally gets her alone after a few songs, suggesting they grab some punch for Demetri and the others. Yasmine eagerly agrees, her entire being lighting up at the thought of doing her boyfriend even a miniscule favor.

There’s something unsettling in the way it’s so mind-bogglingly different from the Yasmine of a few months ago, who would rather chug drain cleaner Heather Chandler style than revolve her entire being around the needs of some boy.

Maybe there’s a way to breach the subject without arousing suspicion.

“I can’t believe you flew all the way back from Australia.” Moon forces a laugh as she ladles punch into Yasmine’s cup. “I didn’t know you were that into him.”

“Oh, Moon!” Yasmine giggles, leaning her head on Moon’s shoulder. “I’m in love.”

She tries not to think about how soft Yasmine’s hair feels against her skin.

“And the dress, too!” Moon reminds herself that Yasmine is very happily spoken for. “You really went all out. It’s kind of cute how you’re embracing nerddom for him.”

Odd, but cute. That’s what Moon has to tell herself.

“You think he liked it?” Yasmine leaned back, twirling around. “It’s not too much, right? I don’t want to seem like I’m trying too hard to impress him. I know guys aren’t into that kind of thing.”

Moon has to laugh again.

“Since when do you care what guys like?”

“Since I found one worth caring about, obviously.”

She sighs, a faraway look in her gray-green eyes. Perhaps she really is in love.

It’s just that Moon always imagined love would feel deeper than this.

“I’m sure Demetri loved it,” Moon concedes. “He’s really happy you came back for him. I can tell.”

“Funny, when I first showed up, he and Hawk were huddled off in some corner brooding, like the idiots couldn’t just dance with each other if they wanted. Almost felt bad taking Hawk’s boyfriend away.”

She snickers, and Moon feels strange.

She decides to change the subject.

“It’s crazy. I mean, imagine what you would’ve said a year ago if I told you you’d be smitten with Demetri Alexopoulos at junior prom. I remember when we first started talking again, you must’ve bitched for twenty minutes about that time he hit on you at your birthday party.”

Yasmine’s silent for a moment.

“He was being a creep.” There’s a steely edge to her voice that wasn’t there before. “He says he’s been watching me from across the lunchroom and I’m supposed to be flattered by that?! Like, dude, who even are you? Why are you talking to me?”

Moon raises her eyebrows.

“A couple weeks ago in science you were gushing about how sweet the ‘admirer from afar’ thing was.”

“Did I?”

Yasmine scowls in disgust. Just underneath it, Moon could swear she picks up a streak of panic.

“Yeah! He kept blowing you kisses across the room, and you giggled so loud that Mrs. Elmes yelled at you, remember?”

“Oh, god. That’s embarrassing.”

She says it like it’s some undignified moment caught on camera at a party—tripping and spilling her drink on someone, or the like. An odd way to talk about a behavior she has more often than not these days.

“He’s still such a weirdo.” Moon wonders if she’s imagining the trace of the Old Yasmine’s scorn. “He’s so, like, awkward about it when he puts his hands on me to dance. Like he’s scared my weird girl body is gonna burn him like a hot plate or something. I mean, we’ve been dating for four months!”

Moon’s stomach squirms.

“Probably just doesn’t want to do anything you might not be comfortable with,” she says quickly.

“He could freaking ask.” Yasmine curls her lip. “But I don’t even think it’s that. He’s an uncoordinated mess. He can’t dance for shit, and I have to do all the work.”

“Hey, don’t be mean!” Moon elbows her gently. “All this stuff is new to him. He never had a girlfriend before you.”

“Yeah. And it shows. Half the time I can’t even tell if he’s like…enjoying himself, you know?”

Yasmine grunts, reaching up and itching the side of her head. The strobe lights catch on something falling from her hair.

Her expression abruptly shifts.

“Oh, my poor baby!” she gasps. “We’ve been leaving him hanging over there, haven’t we? I miss him already. Come on, I’m gonna cry if we miss the slow dance.”

And just like that, the disdain is gone. Yasmine bustles off, snatching her punch and sweeping back onto the dance floor.

Moon looks down at the table, and her eyes land on a gray feather.

A tiny thing, from a tiny, fierce little bird. Beak hooked, meant for killing and piercing like a raptor. Loud, screaming, crass. Unrefined. Ready to jump to violence at the slightest provocation, especially when it gave them an excuse to show off.

Everything Yasmine isn’t.

And, ironically, everything Demetri wants.

Moon’s gaze drifts back and forth between the dance floor—where Yasmine and Demetri have resumed their grinding—and the corner where Hawk stands alone. Hawk’s eyes don’t leave his best friend once.

And, every once in a while, Demetri looks back. Yasmine is none the wiser.

Moon stiffens, guilt trickling over her like hot wax before a hair removal. She downs the rest of her punch in one gulp before going outside and calling an Uber.

I’m such a fucking bitch.

Whatever Demetri and Yasmine get up to at the afterparty, she doesn’t want to be around for it.

*

“So how are things with Demetri?”

Moon keeps her tone light as they finish their food court tacos, but she sees the new charm bracelet around Yasmine’s wrist. And she knows damn well what that means.

“He’s so annoying.” Yasmine wastes no time diving into a rant. “He never fucking listens. I try to talk about stuff I care about or that I think is interesting, and he’s always acting distracted or changing the subject or whatever. I was telling him this cool thing I read online about the history of georgette skirts, and he didn’t ask a single follow-up question. I’ll bet the world’s shittiest sponge is better at retaining crap than him.”

“Sheesh.” Moon makes a face. “I’m sorry. Boys are the worst sometimes.”

“And that’s not even all.” Apparently Yasmine wasn’t finished. “Not ten minutes later, he’s rambling on and on about this blaster thing he unlocked in some video game. It was the verbal equivalent of having cement poured directly into my brain. And he has the nerve to call me boring?!”

“He did?” Moon scowls, genuinely peeved. “That’s so rude!”

Perhaps Demetri wasn’t as sweet and thoughtful as he always came across.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Yasmine frowns right back. “So he gets all snippy with me because he’s being a soggy paper towel of a human being and obviously I’m zoning out. He starts quizzing me on all the dumb bullshit he was blathering about, and I finally snap and tell him he’s boring me out of my fucking mind. And then he gives this whole speech about how at least he’s spending his free time learning strategy and problem-solving and hand-eye coordination, and all I’m doing is looking at clothes online.”

They walk over to the trash and throw out their taco wrappers. With both hands free, Yasmine’s free to gesture more fully and furiously.

“Girl, I got so mad that I called him an antisocial freak and told him he was damn lucky I ever gave him a shot. That was probably kind of messed up, but whatever. Sam doesn’t cut him down to size enough, so I have to pick up the slack. Anyways, I was storming out of the restaurant, but he did the following-and-groveling thing. And sure enough, we ended up at Kay again.”

Yasmine looks down at her bracelet-clogged arm, a forlorn expression swimming over her pretty features.

“I don’t know why I keep letting this happen.” She sighs. “It’s like trying to plug up a boat leak with fucking office tape.”

“Why don’t you break up with him?”

“I wish I could!” Moon’s caught off-guard by the genuine despair lacing Yasmine’s words. “I’ve rehearsed the speech a billion times. But…every time I’m around him, it’s like I’m hit with some kind of emotional tidal wave. And suddenly I can’t bear the thought of ending things.”

She looks so lost. So frantic. So helpless.

“I see him and all I can think about is how much I want him,” she goes on. “No room for anything else. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and it freaks me out.”

Once upon a time, Moon might have called that love. She knows better now.

She wants to reach across the table and take Yasmine’s hand. Reassure her that this is what overpowering teenage crushes are like. That of course your mind finds ways to make hormones and attraction centered around one person seem like the be-all end-all of everything. Hell, she remembers feeling that way about Hawk before she came down from the high and realized how incompatible they were.

But Moon doesn’t. She can’t.

“Something’s not right with me, Moon.” Yasmine’s voice is quiet and fragile—a tone Moon hasn’t heard for a long time. “Sometimes, I don’t—I don’t feel like myself. You remember that week you were in Cancun? I went to the mall with Sam and Demetri, and Sam was complimenting the lemon balm perfume I had on, but you know I never wear lemon-scented shit. Like what am I, a cleaning product?!”

Moon laughs, gladly taking Yasmine’s implicit offer to lighten the atmosphere.

That was one thing Moon always appreciated about her. She never passed up an opportunity to use snarky bluntness to make a joke out of something unpleasant.

It’s part of why her and Demetri’s connection hadn’t surprised Moon. At least not initially.

The strange thing was that their bond got as far as it did.

“At first I thought it was because something stuck to me when I walked through the perfume section of Macy’s,” Yasmine goes on. “But we all went through there, and I couldn’t smell any lemon shit on Sam and Demetri. Am I going crazy or what?”

Moon pushes away the sinking feeling in her chest.

“Maybe it’s Sam who’s imagining things.”

“That’s what I thought, too.” Yasmine’s voice grows terse with panic. “But then Demetri starts bragging about how I always wear the lemon perfume when I go out on dates with him. With the air of someone who, like, actually believes what they’re saying. And I don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.”

“Like Demetri knows anything about perfumes. He probably got it mixed up with that bergamot one you like.”

Her reassurance doesn’t appear to work.

“Whatever,” Yasmine huffs. “Let’s talk about something else, yeah?”

Moon lets Demetri slip from the conversation, fading into mental oblivion as they leave the food court and head for H&M. Yasmine brightens almost immediately, losing herself gushing over cute pink dresses and fuzzy purple sweaters and champagne-tinted heels. The afternoon passes easily, sliding in and out of changing rooms and twirling and laughing in front of department store mirrors.

For a while, Moon can almost forget the overpowering fear emanating from her closest friend. She can almost forget feeling like the world’s cruelest sociopath.

*

When Moon knocks on the door to 44101 Portico Place for the first time in months, she’s only half expecting an answer.

It’s 5:00 on a Wednesday, so plenty of time for any after-school extracurriculars to finish up. But, of course, showing up anywhere unannounced always has the potential to go disastrously wrong.

Demetri helped her develop a healthy dose of pessimism. She isn’t sure whether to be grateful.

The door opens after only a couple minutes.

“Moonshine? What’s going on?”

Moon offers a strained smile. “Hey, Pipes.”

Piper frowns at her across the threshold, looking more concerned than angry. It makes Moon feel all the guiltier.

“Is everything okay?” Piper asks.

“Sorry to bother you. It’s—it’s about Yasmine. And you’re one of the only people I felt like I could ask.”

She winces at the flash of hurt in Piper’s face. Her ex leans on the doorframe, crossing her arms and cocking an eyebrow.

“Go on,” she says, tone resigned.

“So…” Moon takes a breath. “Remember when you said you couldn’t be with me until I figured my feelings for Yasmine out?”

“Yeah?”

“I…may have done some light spellcasting and accidentally hexed her into falling in love with a gay guy.”

Piper blinks a few times, taking a moment to process everything. Finally she groans, running a hand over her face.

“Jesus Christ, Moon. Come in—I’ll get us both some fucking edibles for this.”

Piper’s living room is exactly how Moon remembers it—cream-colored couches, tasteful wall décor, chic modern fireplace. A goofy, surfboard-shaped coffee table that Piper’s parents had once tried to sell at a yard sale, but little Piper screamed and cried and beat the ground with her fists until they relented to keeping her favorite piece of furniture.

Now, Moon props her sandaled feet up on a bar that runs underneath it. The metal is cold against her skin.

She tries to focus on that. Sensations in the here and now. Things immediate and tangible.

Not the abstract mess she’s caused.

Piper returns after a few minutes, placing a glass of carrot ginger lemonade and a small gummy on a coaster. Moon picks up the gummy, tentatively taking a nibble.

Piper chuckles. “Don’t worry, it’s not that many mils. I don’t want us to be totally baked.”

Moon takes a more generous bite.

“So.” Piper sits next to her and takes a sip of her own concoction—some kind of purplish whey smoothie. “What did you do?”

Moon gathers her thoughts, working through how best to phrase it.

“You remember when we first met?”

“Sure.” Piper smiles thinly. “Our parents dragged us to that dumb gala, and I found you sobbing your eyes out in the bathroom because your ex-best-friend threw you out like you were nothing. And then I went on to find you have a terrible habit of swooning over the world’s most horrendous shitbags.”

She lets out a small laugh. “I guess so, huh?”

Piper rolls her eyes. “I told you. Over and over and over.”

“I know, I know.” Moon sighs, wearily admitting defeat. “About a week before that party, Yasmine and I had a phone call. And she just…cut into me. Said so many awful things. And I get it. I mean, her sweet sixteen got ruined and then as like…icing on the cake, I ditched her for the people she hated. But I don’t think anyone’s ever broken me down like that before.”

Piper tosses a comforting arm around her shoulder. For a moment, they’re back on tile floors under harsh fluorescent lighting, puffing blunts and snickering about fake people.

“I know,” Piper says softly. “And when I found you, you were still pretty shaken from it. I hope I helped.”

Despite herself, Moon leans into her.

“You helped more than you know.”

“Clearly not enough to stop you from going out and doing some sort of supernatural fuckery.”

Moon laughs softly. “That’s the thing, though. I think it was already too late.”

“What do you mean?”

She takes a breath.

“That night, after Yasmine hung up on me…I don’t know. It felt like my whole life shattered. I guess in a moment of weakness, I pulled out my spellbook.”

Piper narrows her eyes. “You said you only ever used that thing to ‘cleanse the house of bad energy’ or whatever. Or give yourself good luck charms on tests. Not—”

“—cursing people, I know,” Moon finishes. “I was so upset that I wasn’t thinking straight. I recited this whole incantation that was supposed to make Yasmine know how it felt to want someone who would never want her back. And, um…I guess the love gods interpreted that as her getting down bad for a guy who doesn’t even like women.”

“Wait. Isn’t that the same guy who did an MTV-style roast of your weird ex that one time?”

Moon sighs wearily. “That’s Demetri all right.”

“I knew it.” Piper pounds her fist into the couch triumphantly. “Of course he’s gay. Straight dudes don’t pull that kind of petty shit.”

“He’s not exactly subtle, is he?”

“Nope.”

It’s Piper’s turn to sigh, eyeing Moon with an almost pitying look.

“Are you sure Yasmine doesn’t genuinely like him, and just has a shit gaydar? Or she’s really deep in denial? I know I’ve pined after my fair share of straight girls.”

Moon shakes her head. “I second-guessed myself for a long while. Thought maybe I was wrong about Demetri. Or maybe Yasmine had changed so much that she really is into the whole geek shtick now. But…”

She takes a long sip of her carrot ginger lemonade, hoping the intense flavor will somehow give her strength.

“She acts like an entirely different person whenever we’re with him. And…not really in a good ‘he makes her want to be better’ type of way. More like she’s forgotten everything she likes and every aspect of her being that isn’t related to her boyfriend.”

Piper stares at an abstract, avant-garde wall painting, deep in thought.

“Maybe she’s, like, stuck in a codependence loop,” she says. “You said she was pretty clingy with you freshman and sophomore year, right?”

“That was different, though. She acted one way alone with me and one way out in public, sure. But it made sense. Whenever we see Demetri, it’s like Yasmine’s being mind-controlled by one of those thirsty freshmen who think Demetri’s the hottest guy in school because he won a karate fight one time. Then as soon as I get Yas alone, she doesn’t seem to remember half of what she said or did. And when I fill her in, she gets super embarrassed. Not that Yas can’t put on a façade if she needs, but…why would she intentionally make an idiot of herself if she’s gonna be mortified an hour later? She’s not impulsive like that.”

Piper shrugs. “Hormones make people act stupid. I did some truly absurd shit the first time I was trying to get chicks to notice me.”

“Hormones don’t make you go into a weird trance that your brain bleaches right after. People only wish that happened.”

“Maybe Yasmine’s lucky enough to have a brain that can bleach on command,” says Piper cheekily. “Or maybe she’s way too proud to admit she’s being dumb over a boy, so she tries to like…will it out of existence through not acknowledging it.”

“It’s not just about the embarrassment, though.” Moon sucks in her breath. “Every time she realizes about the memory gaps, she’s scared. Like she knows something’s wrong with her.”

Piper groans, leaning back against the couch and sprawling her arms across a cushion. “Can we prove she’s not being a diva? Leave it to Yasmine to make a fucking ocean’s worth of fuss about the same teen angst literally everyone deals with.”

Moon winces at the scorn in Piper’s voice.

It really is a shitty move, asking her ex-girlfriend for help with a girl she knows Piper can’t stand. That Piper has a damn good reason to hate. Assuming the worst about Yasmine’s romance troubles is only fair.

But what other choice did Moon have? It’s not like her scientifically-minded friends, with their AP classes and their blocked chakras, would believe her about a magic spell gone awry.

“She starts smelling like the spell components whenever she’s near Demetri,” Moon says flatly. “And a couple of them came out of her hair. It’s not stuff she’d ever wear otherwise.”

Piper sits back up, suddenly fully alert with her arms crossed.

“You could have led with that.”

“I thought the weird, erratic behavior was more important!”

“As if I’d have a hard time believing that girl would have mood swings.” Piper’s grimace falters slightly as she rolls her eyes. “Like. Moonshine, that’s your type.”

“Shut up!”

Moon swats her. Piper chuckles briefly before her expression grows pained again.

She processes everything for a moment, groaning again and putting her face in her hand.

“Christ, girl,” she mumbles. “If this is real…yeah, that’s a pretty big fuckup. I’m not the biggest Yasmine fan, but yeesh.”

“I know.” Moon makes a face. “Trust me, I never meant to mess with her mind like that, but—”

“—you were hurting so much that you did anyway.”

“…more or less. I think, deep down, I didn’t believe anything would happen. It was to make me feel better in the moment.”

“Yeah, I know you.” Piper looks up, offering her a small smile. “I think you’d have an easier time permanently giving up smoothies than intentionally hurting someone.”

“I just feel so awful!” Moon wails, guilt bubbling up and erupting out of her like a volcano. “I know Yasmine hasn’t been the best person, but she should be able to at least choose who she loves. Even if that’s never going to be me.”

“So…did you come here so I could make you feel better?” Piper scrutinizes her. “Because I won’t lie—I’m kind of at a loss right now.”

“I don’t know.” Moon sighs again. “I came here because you’re the only person I trust who I figured would like…entertain this whole thing. Anyone else would call me crazy.”

Because at the end of the day, Piper may be rough-edged and butch and intimidating, but she’s open-minded. She’s willing to hear anyone’s point of view, and tries to embrace every walk of life. And she’s never one to dismiss possibilities outright, no matter how absurd they sound. No matter how “weird” the people saying them are.

It’s part of what initially drew the two of them together. Well…that and acai bowls.

“Right. So you want solutions.”

It’s almost embarrassing how fast Piper deduces it.

“That…that would be great.”

Piper takes a long sip of her health smoothie, slurps echoing around the room.

“Seems like a proximity thing. You said she acts more lucid when she’s away from Demetri, right?”

“Right.”

“So make plans to hang out, get her alone, and snap her out of it.”

Moon bites her lip. “I’m, uh…not sure how.”

“Demetri makes her act like she’s not herself, so…” Piper shrugs. “Remind her who she really is.”

Moon chuckles hollowly.

“That’s the other thing. I don’t entirely dislike the person she’s become thanks to the…Demetri thing. She’s a lot nicer, for one. And less judgmental.”

Piper seems to be holding back laughter.

“So…you want Yasmine to be her true self and get her free will back and all, but you’re worried that when she does…she’ll be someone you and everyone else will personally find less palatable?”

Moon glowers at her. “Well, when you say it like that, it sounds bad!”

A snicker finally worms its way out.

“Yeah, because it’s an incredibly shady thing to say.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Moon huffs. “Look, isn’t there some way to undo the spell without undoing her growth? Because like…in a weird way, I feel like she has grown as a person since she got magicked into being obsessed with Demetri. Is that bad?”

“Not necessarily, but you’re being awfully picky for someone who doesn’t even know if or how they can reverse their own paranormal fuck-up.”

“I thought you might know of a way to do some kind of partial reversal. Make her stop being crazy about Demetri, but keep some of the good ways she’s changed?”

“Sooooo.” Piper slurps more of her smoothie, expression growing insufferably smug. “Considering that fucking around with the nuance of this already-opaque-sounding spell is an objectively terrible idea…the way I see it, you have two options. You can break the spell and let Yasmine be whoever she wants, even if it’s someone who kind of sucks. Or you can leave her to be this weird enigmatic love curse’s braindead meat puppet for the rest of her days—with the perk that she’s more pleasant to be around. So what’s it gonna be, Moonshine?”

“But surely there’s some way to—”

“Uh-uh.” Piper cuts her off. “Look, I don’t know any more about this stuff than you do, but I doubt we’re talking about a spectrum here. Can’t have your cake and eat it too and all that. Either we lift the curse, or we don’t, so…what do you want to do?”

After a long moment, Moon sighs.

“I want Yasmine to be free.”

“So you need to do what I said. Remind her who she really is.”

“Even if…‘who she really is’ turns out to be mean and self-centered and kind of awful?”

“Eeyup. That’s Yasmine. Take her or leave her.”

“Even if it undoes all her personal growth from the last year?”

“That’s the conundrum, isn’t it?” Piper leans nonchalantly against the back of the couch, arm on the headboard. “We don’t know how much of that was the spell, and how much was the real Yasmine wanting to improve herself. So we gotta let the real Yasmine out and hope for the best, yeah?”

Moon looks down at her lap and smiles, shaking her head. “People won’t be too thrilled to have her back.”

“Then that’s going to be her problem, not yours. If you’re such a bitch that you need magic intervention to make you tolerable, then maybe you deserve to lose all your friends.”

It sounds harsh, but Moon can’t argue.

“Hey, c’mon.” Piper scoots over, playfully nudging Moon’s side. “I know how much you cared about her. That’s why it felt like your world was ending when she cut you off. And why you were still hung up on her while we were together. So there must’ve been something in there you thought was worth fighting for.”

And of course there was.

Because this was Yasmine. The same Yasmine who danced like a dork and smiled with dimples as soon as no one was watching. The same Yasmine who yanked Moon into every single one of her snapchat stories, no matter how mundane. The same Yasmine who didn’t think twice about defending Moon’s honor when she thought Sam was talking shit, and told Sam to get the hell out of Moon’s Benz.

The same Yasmine who talked about her and Moon as a single intertwined unit. Unfathomable to her as something that would ever split, until that fateful night on the beach. The same Yasmine who trusted that wherever one of them went, the other would follow.

Sure, there was plenty about her that was cruel and vindictive and conceited. And she’d spent her time at West Valley High so drunk on her own power that she kept digging herself a deeper and deeper grave, earning the hatred of most of her classmates. Good looks could only got you so far when you leaked poison and bile from every pore in your body.

But who is Moon to decide which traits Yasmine gets to keep, and which are magicked away? Who is Moon to remold Yasmine into a watered-down, docile amalgamation of what had once been her assets, when not so long ago, Moon fell in love with the entire picture?

And now Yasmine’s a hollowed-out shell of a person, all empty smiles and lifeless giggles. A painting cobbled together by some computer program—beautiful and polished and splendid on the surface, but a closer look reveals the details are all off.

A closer look reveals something without a soul, no light behind those sharp gray-green eyes.

“Fuck,” Moon says miserably, head sliding into her hands. “I want my best friend back.”

“So go get her back, then.” Piper nudges her again. “And maybe go easy on the evil curses this time? I don’t know, just a suggestion.”

“Oh, stop.” Moon scoffs, but there’s no real venom in it.

Piper rolls her eyes, although not unfondly.

“I wish I’d known you back then.” She laughs, shaking her head. “I could’ve told you from the jump that fucking with the occult was a bad idea. Yes, even when a girl breaks your heart. Which, in my opinion, is the highest and most profound type of pain.”

“Naturally.”

Moon sighs wearily, smile fading.

“I don’t know if anyone could’ve stopped me, honestly. When she—when she broke what we had, it was like I’d fallen into some rushing river and I could barely keep my head up. And I was headed right for one of those tall waterfalls with sharp rocks at the bottom from adventure movies. For whatever reason, lashing out felt like the only way to get a breath of air.”

Piper hums thoughtfully.

“I will say that this all makes me feel better about how I reacted the first time someone rejected me. I liked this girl Lila in the sixth grade, and when she found out, she called me a fat ugly dyke in front of all her friends. So I filled her locker with sweaty gym clothes.”

Moon wrinkles her nose as Piper cackles. “Ew, Pipes! You’re disgusting!”

“Okay, but I don’t summon Satan to make my crush want to fuck a gay guy senseless.”

“I did not summon Satan—”

“Sorry, Satan’s right-hand man Joe the Sexual Orientation Confuser.”

“Imagine if there were demons that actually did that.” The concept is admittedly intriguing. “They get sent up from the underworld or wherever solely to make cosmically cursed straights fall in love with cosmically cursed gays. And cosmically cursed gays fall in love with cosmically cursed straights.”

“Shit.” Piper grimaces again. “Wonder what I did to piss Joe off.”

“You’ve really liked that many straight girls?” Moon has to giggle.

“You have no idea,” Piper mumbles. “And trust me—your ex wasn’t the first guy to assume I played for the other team.”

“Not sure his heart was in that one. I think he wanted get a rise out of me, honestly. No offense.”

“Oh my god. The sheer irony.”

“He really thought I’d get jealous of my own girlfriend. As if there’s any girl I’d care about my unserious two-month fling hitting on.”

And then they’re both laughing, swaying on the couch and clutching at one another to keep from toppling over.

“Hi, I’m your run-of-the-mill punk poser and I think I get more ass than a proctologist!” Piper grabs the couch arm, attempting to do dramatic poses as she talks. “I know you’re frantic to have me back, even though my only skills are yelling and punching my friends for no reason!”

“Stoooop.” Despite herself, Moon only laughs harder. It’s probably just the edible finally kicking in. “You’re so rude!”

“Like your ex even knows how not to be an inappropriate, boundary-crossing weirdo.”

“He’s getting better!”

“Because he’s finally learning after his 7th attempt that asking a girl you just met to fondle your gelled-up hairdo isn’t going to wield results.”

“He wouldn’t—”

“He totally would, though!”

Moon snickers, shaking her head.

“Fine, yeah. He would.”

As the laughter dies down, Piper’s phone buzzes. She picks it up, frowning as she reads a text on her home screen.

“Hey, I gotta run soon. One of the kids from the dojo is hosting pizza night.”

“Oh, right. How’s that going?”

It’s amusing, really, how easy it is to forget Piper’s in Cobra Kai now. If the dojo’s truly the all-powerful, all-corrupting force Eli claims, then Moon’s ex-girlfriend must be entirely immune. Even if she and Piper haven’t spoken in a while, Moon hasn’t seen any evidence whatsoever of Piper caving to some kind of deeply-buried inner asshole.

Not that it was buried too deep, in Eli’s case.

“It’s fun. Good exercise during the gymnastics off-season.” Piper shrugs. “Some of the people in my class take it way too seriously, though. Like it’s high school karate, not the fucking Cuban missile crisis!”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard.” Moon makes a face. “I was…kind of worried for you when I heard you joined. They treat it like a cult.”

“Oh, please.” Piper scoffs. “Like I’d ever buy into those sorts of stupid dramatics. I mean, don’t get me wrong—it can be fun to spar with people who’re so intense about it that they act like their fucking life is on the line. Makes things interesting. But I’m mostly there for the free shit.”

“Really?” Moon cocks an eyebrow. “You always seem so excited on your snapchats.”

“Yeah, like, it’s good energy. Everyone’s super passionate. But it gets to be a little much sometimes, you know? The senseis treat it like this huge life-or-death thing. Like sure, placing in a global tournament would be cool, but it’s not that big a deal? And sometimes I wonder how much my teammates are actually, like, enjoying themselves, and how much they’re stressing over nothing.” Piper purses her lips disdainfully. “Honestly? I’m going to rack up as much free equipment as I can, and then I’m gonna ditch them for Topanga or something. They seem way more chill.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Moon frowns. “I know they can go psycho when someone quits. Look what happened to Hawk.”

“Any of those bitches come at me with a razor and I’ll beat their ass into next week.” Piper rolls her eyes, unfazed.  “And what the hell are the senseis going to do? Call the cops on me for quitting their dojo? They’ll get laughed off the phone.”

“Just…be careful. I don’t want Cobra Kai hurting anyone else I care about.”

Before she can stop herself, she reaches out and squeezes Piper’s hand. The other girl turns and fixes her with a pale green gaze, expression unreadable.

“Okay,” she says quietly, tone turning serious.

Piper’s phone buzzes again, and the moment ends.

“Damn,” she mutters, glancing at her texts. “I forgot I said I’d bring jaeger bombs. I’d better get ready.”

“Oh, sorry.” Moon pulls away, embarrassed. “I don’t mean to take up too much of your time.”

“Don’t worry about it. I hope I could help.”

They stand up, and Piper starts to walk her out. Moon stares at the floor, suddenly feeling anxious again.

She stops right before they reach the front door. “What you said to do with Yasmine…what if it doesn’t work?”

“You better hope it does, because otherwise you’re going to have to consult the dark web or something. And then you’ll have to wade through about 70 sites with the most degenerate porn you’ve ever seen before finding anything useful.”

Moon laughs, tension easing.

“I guess I’ll deal with that when it happens. Or if.”

“Exactly. One thing at a time.”

“Well…I’ll let you go.” Moon offers Piper one last smile, opening the front door. “Have fun at your pizza party, okay?”

She’s halfway onto the porch when Piper catches her wrist, pulling her back.

“Hey, Moonshine…”

She turns. “Yeah?”

“I meant what I said before.” Piper bites her lip, meeting Moon’s eyes nervously. “About, um…if you sort through this whole Yasmine thing, and you ever decide you want to try again…all you have to do is ask.”

The surprise on Moon’s face must throw her for a loop.

“I mean, I’m not saying I’m going to sit on my ass waiting around,” she amends quickly, grip loosening. “I can’t promise I won’t move on. And I’m not, like, some piney mess who’s got nothing better to do than try and ‘win you back’ or whatever. But if you’re ever feeling it, and Yasmine’s not an issue anymore…just ask. The worst I’ll do is say no.”

And before Moon knows what she’s doing, she steps back inside and wraps Piper in a tight hug.

“Thank you,” she murmurs into the thick, bushy hair she remembers loving so much. “For helping. You didn’t have to, and I appreciate it.”

“I know.” Slowly but surely, Piper hugs her back. “But someone has to check you before you cause some domino effect that sends half the school into a sexuality crisis.”

***

Some author's notes, in no particular order:

I will literally die on the hill that Demetri is a bad boyfriend. All he's ever done IN CANON has been to objectify and generally be gross with Yasmine??? And the lead up to the whole icky "sexual venn diagram" comment was basically "hey, you should settle for me because I'm popular now and everyone thinks you're a laughingstock <3" Like wow! What a great way to treat the girl you're supposed to be "101% in love with"! And in S4 onwards he doesn't appear to know jack shit ABOUT her and just puts her on this pedestal as his "dream girl" while never actually mentioning anything about her personality.

I'm honestly not surprised that the natural progression of their relationship in S5 was (most likely) Yasmine getting fed up with Demetri not giving any visible shits about who she is as a person, and getting into fights with him the second she starts asserting her own wants and needs outside of him. And of course he gets her shallow jewelry gifts to placate her, which is just further proof he doesn't know her at all--it reads like he just saw on the internet that "girls like jewelry." And it's not like it actually solves anything, considering he's gotten her so many apology gifts that she can "barely lift her arm"! Tbh it pisses me off to not end that people whine and bitch about Demetri being a "bad friend" (which is so easily disproved it's not even funny) and don't make a peep about the gross way he treats his own fucking canon love interest. Please roast my trash son Demetri Alexopoulos for the RIGHT reasons!!!

I really did my damndest to keep Yasmine as canon-compliant as possible here. I do think she and Moon messed around in S1 and no one will ever be able to convince me otherwise, but I tried to keep everything we see of her here consistent with how she acts onscreen in seasons 1, 3, and 5. Season 4 is the obvious odd man out, which...needless to say is kinda the point XD But you take S4 out of the mix and accept some weird fluke was going on that was making her act that way, and we get something semi-plausible to work with! Hopefully she comes across as in-character (from what little we see of her!) here.

Also she does not love it when Demetri talks nerdy. Aisha and Sam's S1 salt conversation proves that she is not about it when people talk about nerdy school-related shit that reads like an inside joke she can't get in on (which applies to...most school-related things, considering she's shown to be kind of book dumb). She loves when Demetri gets her good grades, but she doesn't like. Have any inherent interest in school-related "nerdy" things??? And has never been shown to??? "Character development" shouldn't come out of nowhere and involve characters randomly getting into things they have never been shown to be drawn to actually!

I also hope I did an okay job writing Piper here! I wish I could write more MoonPiper, but we get!!! So ANNOYINGLY little of them and of Piper in general??? Like seriously, I went back and rewatched all the Piper scenes in the show, and there's like. Maybe 5 or 6 in THE WHOLE SHOW??? I barely have anything to work with and it is AGGRAVATING because I really love Piper and MoonPiper as a ship!!! And I want to do it justice that isn't just me projecting my own headcanons and theories because I don't know what else to do!!!

I really do think Piper is Not As Invested in Cobra Kai as everyone else though, lmao. Like she is there for shits and giggles, and also free merch. She respects herself too much to become a slave to the "cobra kai for life" bullshit lol

It IS incredibly funny to me that Moon gets more homoerotic scenes with her Super Totally Straight Best Friend than with the girl who was canonically her girlfriend. Like I love both ships, I really do, but when they give Yas and Moon SO many fruity scenes while their boyfriends are also being fruity, what did they EXPECT!!! Of COURSE I'm going to write YasMoon like my life depends on it!!!

Also, Moon saw that nacho nonsense with Hawk and Demetri in S2. She saw Hawk yank Demetri onstage during Valley Fest. She saw Hawk get all snippy about Demetri hitting on girls at the beach. She saw Hawk throw a hissy fit because his boyfriend bestie wouldn't join his evil dojo. She damn well knows they're gay!

And so does Piper ajadhskufbhd these girls weren't born yesterday!

Hoping to get this entire fic up on AO3 sometime in November! :3

[webginz]

my fav 2 types of characters: wooby villains and girls w trauma, is actually so perfect because terra falls right in the middle. shes the center of that venn diagram. the best of all time

[umaspotted]

The middle section of this venn diagram

Mob and Shigeo, being merely two halves of Kageyama Shigeo, tend to overlap and blur a lot!

The last time they were truly "whole" was back during early childhood. It's was just him, Ritsu, and Tsubomi and the world felt right.

A lot of his confidence at the time was staked in how much Tsubomi and Ritsu were impressed by him, it was fun to show them things only he could through his powers.

The seeds for the internal division began when Tsubomi lost interest in his powers, taking an interest in athletics instead. Ever fueled by a desire to impress her, he stopped using his powers in his every day life. Ritsu's awe at his talents had morphed into constant upset at his lack of powers, despite the reassurance provided that he'd get them in time.

Shigeo only started to feel "other" after The Incident. A group of highschool boys shaking the young Kageyama brothers down for any money they had on them. In the scuffle, Mob was shoved into a brick wall which he hit his head against. Having been neglecting his power up to this point, they lashed out without his constant restraint.

Everyone went to the hospital that day, and it was then that Mob learned his powers are dangerous. The actual event itself was repressed, but it would still inform his behavior and warp the brothers' dynamic for years to come.

Even with such a violent division drawn between them, Mob blaming Shigeo for these outbursts and desiring to "other" him as a malicious force beyond Mob's control, there are still many traits they share! Here are a few.

• Fierce loyalty.

Their family, their friends, and even recent commitments they've made. All are treated with the upmost importance, regardless of all other detail.

Even when Ritsu was lashing out, even though Reigen had a track record of using them for their power, even when Shou set fire to their house to spur them to action. These are people that are cared for, regardless of lingering resentment towards the latter two for their behaviors.

• Love of nature.

Kind to all of the Earth's creatures! Many times as a younger child they've scared someone accidentally because they've walked in carrying a huge bug. Favorite animals include frogs, toads, cats, bugs, birds.

Since they learned chlorokinesis they'd taken more of an interest in plants as well, feeding energy into flowerbeds and grass or generally anything that seems particularly wilted.

• Hopeless romantic.

<- Guy who maintained a crush on a friend since childhood even though they drifted apart and hadn't truly spoken to each other in three years. Guy who decided to get into athletics despite is awful physical fitness because he thought getting ripped would make her like him more. Guy who hung out and walked a girl home for a week despite having turned down her asking him out (she was doing it on a dare) and was having a lot of fun.

They love romance!!! They want to loved!!! They want to hold hands and walk home together!!!

• Aversion to certain textures, tastes, and smells.

They hate cilantro it tastes like soap to them, they hate the smell of cigarettes and were so relieved when reigen quit smoking. They pester their dad to do the same, but he's a lot more set in the habit. They hate when the tags of clothes scratch their neck or the seams are too prominent.

They just have general sensitivity to change, and are equally thrown off when their routine is altered significantly.

[cargopantsman]

so i'm

cis, in that way where i don't really care.*

het, in that way where it does take a Really boy to catch my eye in the same way the "beauty standard" girl would.**

middle-aged, well... numbers don't lie

white, irish and estonian ancestry... the sun makes me cry

guy***, i'm just a dude.****

*i'll wear skirts and put on war paint and dye my hair, but that also takes effort so it doesn't happen that much i just default to cargos and a t-shirt. so i'm in that guy/butch slice of the venn diagram.

**still, things have Happened in my time that this also me being lazy about my orientation

*** my name is not Guy

**** I'm fine with the meat configuration I have for the most part (aside from my sinuses) and I'm okay with being male even if I'm bad at it.

[jakowskis]

Day 2 - Who’s your favorite Torchwood member? (And if it’s not one of them, who’s your favorite character?) Why are they your favorite? Do you have any secondary favorites (maybe a one-off or minor character that really stuck with you)?

owen, infinitely. i could write essays on why i love owen - hell, i have written essays. and at this point, you know when a character means so much to you there’s not even words for it anymore, they’re just kind of a fundamental part of you? Yeah. but nonetheless, i guess to majorly sum it up, he’s just one of the most utterly broken and fascinating characters i’ve ever had the pleasure of coming across. there's just a visceral sadness and anger to him that immediately reeled me in and i don’t think i’ll ever get over it, like he actually haunts me. and he made his way into my top 3 characters of all time in just a few months, which is pretty damn impressive. something just kinda clicked there. (and i highlight how fucked up he is, but then he's also complex enough that he's got a silly/dorky side too, which im super endeared by as well. i love his complexity. perf character for me, hes got like 30 things going on and im intrigued and compelled by all of them. i love him endlessly.)

also, okay, i’ve observed my favorite characters tend to unintentionally fit certain criteria, like when i look back at all my favs i can sort them into three categories. namely, it's 1) characters that make me lose my mind bc theyre so interesting (and/or endearing), 2) characters i relate to, and 3) characters i’d smash. fhdjkf. i tend to visualize it as a venn diagram, and most characters sit in one or two of the circles - owen is, i believe, the absolute only fav i’ve ever had who’s firmly in the middle. which probably has something to do with why he’s top 3. dhfdsjk

as for secondary favs… well, i absolutely adore the rest of the team, especially ianto and the girls (including suzie!!!!!!!! my girl suzie). i’m not sure why, gwen’s become a particular favorite. she gives me like cuteness aggression HFKSDF i wanna squish her (lovingly). she’s so fucked up n interesting, but also a lil gremlin to me. i love her playful side she’s such a love.

one-off characters… actually, quite a few have stood out to me and made an emotional impact. torchwood has had some wonderfully talented guest actors who really managed to get me attached to their characters, despite having so little screentime. carys, eugene, and beth all come to mind. i think about beth a lot. and maggie, ohhhh maggie. ill talk about aditd a bit tomorrow, ff.

also the episodes with mothers, oh g-d. eugene’s mom, and jonah’s, and jasmine’s. all really heart-wrenching, and damn good actresses. i always get emotional with plotlines about parents + their kids, fff. parental pain + fear just hits diff idk. i used to watch a ton of criminal minds and that was about the only place my empathy jumped out fhsdkfjd.

i also love the various romantic interests - john, diane, mary, lisa, mark (cough), katie, tommy. rhys!! i love you rhys. torchwood is such a character-focused fixation for me like g-d i just adore every character sm. so many good ones. AND HOW COULD I FORGET MY FAV GUY OF ALL - ANDY!!!!!!!! ily pc andy <3 <3 <3

[hockpock]

Have you shared your Dashcon memories?

In the generous assumption that this ask is in good faith (cheers to you for asking off anon! ) I have.

My dashcon tag is #ballpit dramacon , I've not bothered to reread it so who knows what cringe lurks in there- it's been 10 years!

The tldr version is that honestly my experience wasn't that much different from any other first year con I've risked doing artist alley at. Maybe a lack of signage. Kinda remember it was unclear which tables were assigned to who, since the overhyped separate dealer's room and artist alley ended up being half of one ballroom.

We did better than most vendors - it was one of the first times I sold my handmade plush, and my partner was selling flower crowns at the height of Hannigram UwU edits. It is not and will not be the only show we've done where the projected attendance numbers did not line up with a depressingly empty dealer's room day of. As a vendor you spend 90% of any given show trapped behind your table. Lucky for us Dashcon imploded after dealer's hall hours! I think I was in a wtnv related panel when the whole round-everyone-into-main-events we need 1700 panic thing happened.

As I've said before and will stand by, the vibes of the actual attendees were great. Dashcon for all it's failures had the absolute lowest creep factor of any show I've ever attended, as a vendor or otherwise. No hentai face shirts, no weird dude hovering over my table and juuust skirting the line of behavior that could justify asking them to leave. I wish more cons had that.

The con runners were a shitshow who handled absolutely nothing with grace and tranquility and from what I was able to gather after the fact shoved most of the actual work and responsibilities (hotel contracts etc) onto a 19 year old. The attendees were just trying to make the most of it and enjoy the convention as best they could. They made the same gamble that anyone choosing to go to a first time con makes.

If I remember correctly there was a first year con that same year that ended up being in open air shelters or the animal barns on an abandoned fairground. Yikes.

Anyway, I digress. I made friends, I made money, I made memes.

I am somewhat amazed at the gullible nature of the internet in general because one of the rumors at the time was that there were tsetse flies in the ballpit. tsetse flies. African sleeping sickness pests in an upscale hotel in the middle of fucking illinois, somehow brought in via inflatable kiddy pool. C'mon, the pool was clearly made in China! Can we at least keep to the same continent with our inflammatory nonsense? Or maybe Tarantulas, those are a classic for "came in with the fruit" scare stories.

So that's some of my dashcon memories for you. The ballpit will live on in infamy but... not all that interesting and in my opinion if wasn't the nerdy queer neurodivergent teenage girl venn diagram convention no one would have given a shit about it 10 years on.

¯_(ツ)_/¯