#I plan on making Pride themed stickers soon

[ultrainfinitepit]

Seasons greetings followers, it's time for the December update.

New Items

First and foremost, I'm happy to share that the Pride Angels leftovers are now available. There's lots of new pins, stickers, and keychains from the campaign listed on Shopify and Etsy.

That's not all: in advance of my Themed Monster Enamel Pins campaign next year, I made one design from each of the sets to test the colors: Cyberpunk Medusa, Priest Angel, Rococo Angel, Victorian Angel, and Werewolf Plague Doctor. If these sell out you can pledge for more in the campaign, along with their companions - though please note the colors may change a little batch-to-batch.

For those of you who prefer to purchase from my stockists, these items will be sent to them as well but you will have to wait longer for them to be listed and available. Guest artist designs have been sent to their respective artists, you can find them in their stores soon, or message them to purchase.

If you're looking for a fun way to display your new pins, check out one of the many pin hoops that are now listed. If you want some pins at a discount, I've updated the as-is display pins listing.

Holiday Sale and Closure

To celebrate the holidays, I am running a very short sale on all older items: 15% off on Shopify (discount applied at checkout) and 10% off on Etsy. I will be closing my shop for the year December 8 at 10AM PST, be sure to get your orders in before then. Slow-selling or low stock items may be removed over the holidays, so if you've had an eye on anything now is the time to grab it.

I have no set date for when my shop will reopen but I anticipate it will be sometime January-March 2025.

Pinconvention

While my shop is closed, you can find many of my items with my stockists. For a limited time December 4-9, a few of my pins will be available from Pinconvention as well. Pinconvention is based in Hamburg, Germany and is the only way for buyers in Germany and France to get my pins.

Shipping Restrictions for EU/Northern Ireland

Speaking of countries in Europe: if you haven't heard already, the EU and Northern Ireland will be enforcing a GPSR regulation starting December 13. You can read more about it in this Etsy article. There's been a lot of discussion in the seller community about what these restrictions mean for US to EU shipping. At the moment I'm going to tentatively continue to allow shipping to the EU and Northern Ireland, but I can't guarantee it will be allowed forever. So if you have your eye on anything in my shop or others, it might be wise to purchase soon. In the event I have to discontinue shipping to these destinations, you may be able to purchase from my stockists, or use a mail forwarding service.

Plans for 2025

That's all for 2024, let's look ahead to next year:

I have some pin designs in my drafts I hope to finish up. This includes: the Angelic Hierarchy set, pins for each BG3 companion's good and bad endings, Dungeons and Dragons pins, some original character designs, and fanart pins including for Dune and Ghibli.

I will be running the Themed Monsters Enamel Pins campaign in March 2025; and collaborating with HoloRaindrops to offer a pair of cross-collab pins to backers who pledge to both of our campaigns. If I can finish up those pins I just mentioned in time for this campaign, they will be available as addons/preorders.

I am planning to make variants of the most popular Pride Angels pins for June (Pride Month) next year.

Other than that, I don't have many pin plans for 2025. I am open to making new variants of previous designs if there's sufficient interest. If you have an idea you can submit it here (and consult my pin catalog here), feel free to share with your friends. I won't be giving up pin making, but I definitely want to slow down on it - I wrote a little about why on Tumblr if you're curious.

And I may slow down my shop updates to every other month as well. As much as I love making new items every month, it's been hard to keep up the pace. I hope you'll stick around to see what I make even with less frequent releases.

That's all for this update, have a wonderful winter holiday!

[billythephoneguy]

Cow Velvet Sticker Design

[arcadejohn127-9]

Can you do a hc of the brothers having to get their annual check ups and they find out they need to get shots but like they all are terrified of them so MC has to comfort them/force them to go? Idk I find it cute and hilarious 😚

I'm not going to lie, when I first read this I thought it was "anal check up" I didn't realize I was wrong until my friend pointed it out. Let me tell you - I was LAUGHING MY ASS OFF FOR MINUTES!!!

I'm sorry anon I did you dirty 😭😂

I use to be afraid of needles, I don't like them but now I can look at them when I get injections. So the surprise I got imagining such powerful demons afraid of a needle? It was brilliant

Lucifer:

Pretends he's not

Him? Afraid of a needle? Don't be ridiculous!

But when the time comes he started making sure his meetings and schedule get busy so he doesn't have to go

"I'm very busy, (Y/N), I'll do the shot another time, it is just fortunate timing."

"Don't you mean unfortunate?"

"Ah yes- right, very unfortunate."

Damn prideful man!

In the end you have to use your pact against him and take him to the hospital

The lesser demons working there found the site of snarling Lucifer trying to force himself to stop walking hilarious

When it was all done he pretended as if it all went to plan

"There, that wasn't so hard, you really mustn't stress over these things - let's go back home."

Mammon:

Very vocal about his fear

Well that is until he gets embarassed and tries to switch it up and act like he was faking

"I'm just messing with ya, the great Mammon isn't afraid of no needle that's super pointy and scary with the blank walls looking back at you- it's nothing for someone like me!"

Tease me about not being a big strong demon and he is ready to get that shot

He will do it right there and then

His impulsiveness and embarassment only lasts so long though so do this on the day of the appointment - perhaps just outside the door

As soon it was done he all that adrenaline and confidence is hyped up again

"Ha! Did you see that?! I did it without even shutting my eyes, let's go to that food kart I saw on the way here."

"I'm guessing I'm buying."

"how lovely of you to do so! Knew I could count on ya!"

He was extra affectionate with you afterwards, Saying it's because you paid

But really he just wanted to feel comfort after the appointment

Levithan:

You'll have to drag him out

It was already a tough time to get him out of his room but now to do something he hates?!

He's get huffy and tell you you're not his favourite anymore

He doesn't really mean it

If you pretend to be upset he says that he will immediately scramble to tell you he was lying

"I don't need it! I'm a centuries old war criminal, I don't need to go to hospital's!"

"I heard they give you stickers if you're a good patient."

"I can be a good patient.."

Bingo

Man is a sucker for stickers

They can be put into anything! It just makes sense to like them!

Like Lucifer, you will have to control him with the pact

Stickers tempted only for so long before his fear got him

But once it was done he admired the sticker on his jacket

"Whoa!! I feel like I just leveled up!! Good boy, I am!"

Make sure to praise him and buy him snacks

He's going to be gloating to his discord friends about how tough he is

Satan:

He acted like it was nothing

"don't worry, I have it all scheduled out, I'm perfectly fine unlike my brother's."

You had to drag him to the hospital to get his injection though

He tried to claim book club was more important and he promised he'd go

You weren't having any of it

But as soon as the needle came into view his head turned into green fire and he screeched

You ended up asking the nurse for anything cat themed and they brought a cat plushie

He squeezed it like his life depended on it and closed his eyes

Once it was done he was blushing, embarassed by his behaviour

He apologized to the staff

But he sadly couldn't keep the plush

"that was alot easier than I thought it would be, shame the plush wasn't free - it was remarkably squishy."

"Belphie knows everything about plushies and pillows, you should ask him where you can get one."

"I think you should do it, I'd rather not have him know it was me and...you won't tell them I screamed will you?"

You zipped your lips and threw the imaginary key

He was thankful you didn't snitch

Asmodeus:

Complains that needles ruin his skin

Very vocal about his hate and won't even hide it

"But (Y/N)!!! Why would you want me to do something that could damage my perfect skin???!!"

Lukcily, you won't have to drag him

Being dragged into a hospital will ruin his reputation

And having a bad reputation will make him stressed! And stress makes him break out!

He cries and whines about it but as soon as you're in public

Lips are sealed and he's strutting the path like he isn't afraid of what's going to happen

when it actually happens he is able to handle it well

Of course the staff absolutely love him and give him stickers, lolipops and even ask for a photo with him

"I never want to do that again, it was awful."

"you did amazing though, you acted like a real super star, asmo."

"I guess I can keep doing it if you're with me."

Beezlebub:

Will be very upfront to you about it

He'll tell you and the doctor no to the injection

"I won't do it, I keep myself perfectly healthy."

Don't bring up the fact he started exercising more and eating more of his greens

You couldn't help but laugh, he reminded you on an elephant

A big creature afraid of something small

Will go himself if you coax him with hugs and food

But he wants you there for emotional support

He's holding your hand through the entire thing

You were able to get the doctor to give him a pockets worth of lolipops afterwards

"thanks for holding my hand....I hate getting shots done."

"no problem, big guy! You were perfect."

"You need to do this with me every year. Or else I won't do it."

You agreed, patting his arm

Let's you pick your favourite Flavour from his pocket as a thank you

Belphegor:

Refused to go

Made sure to have a nice deep sleep when it was the day of the appointment

Being dragged down the stairs didn't wake him up but you laughing and saying mammon fell over did

"You tricked me!!! How could you, I thought we had a connection-! A knowing!"

He's tried swiping the doctors hand when they tried

Refusing to get it done

Had to be careful he doesn't just fall asleep to avoid it

He can he extremely childish so just bribe him

When it's done, he's hugging you grumpy and tired

"I better be getting a reward for this, I stayed perfectly still."

"I'm pretty sure you were half asleep."

"I still deserve a reward."

[arvandus]

Touch (Pt 2)

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ only please!  Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

Synopsis: When you first joined the LOV to lend your healing quirk, Dabi  terrified you.  Not interested in attachments, he wanted to keep it  that way.  That is, until he needs your help. (Slow burn, soft Dabi).

Time Frame: Right before the League meets Overhaul

Additional notes: I took some liberty in giving Reader a backstory that fits in with the BNHA world and is important for the story.  If that bothers you, I apologize - just think of it as role playing!  Also, this’ll probably be broken up into 8-10 parts, roughly.  JUST KIDDING - this has now turned into an epic (roughly) 40 chapter series.  Oops.

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters.

Recommended Chapter Song: Cradles by Sub Urban

Part 1

Artwork credit to @hellowon31​ on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 2 - A Crack In The Armor

The pain came back, just as you said it would.   What you didn’t mention was that the numbness would gradually fade away.  It might sound nice to some, but Dabi hated it. He felt like he was driving towards a cliff in slow motion, waiting for the crash, unable to turn the wheel.  He had no control.  He hated this feeling of helplessness and traded it for anger instead. Why did he even ask for your help to begin with?

His answer was given to him as soon as your quirk’s effect finally stopped.  Dabi stared angrily at the empty pill bottles. It was amazing how quickly the brain adapted, his body acting as if he’d never had to deal with his damaged nerves before.  He had half a mind to hunt you down and demand you take care of it. He didn’t, of course, pride the deciding factor.  The scars were his, a series of choices made, a patchwork flag he wore into battle.  They were his burden and a reminder of his fight; he wasn’t going to give that up so easily.  Still, he couldn’t deny the temptation that surrounded him like a cloud, even if all he did was entertain the thought. 

Dabi waited all day for your visit until finally your characteristic knock on his door rewarded his patience.  He stood from his bed and cooled his features into their typical mask before opening the door. There you stood, keen eyes already assessing him.

“Can I come in?” you asked. Like the day before, he stepped aside just enough to let you pass.  He had discovered yesterday that he liked having your presence close to him… it gave his pulse a little rush.  He caught a whiff of your shampoo as you gingerly passed him and felt the softness of your shirt as it brushed against his own like a whisper.  His grip on the doorknob tightened.

As soon as Dabi closed the door behind you, you got started.  You were determined to be strictly business.  “How’re you feeling?” you asked, keeping your tone even, the perfect balance of concern and professionalism.  Dabi wanted to laugh.  Were you always this serious?

“Like shit.” He grinned. “That quirk of yours is potent stuff.”

You couldn’t help but let a grin escape in response to his candid words, a fracture in your hastily built armor.  “Not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

“It’s a compliment.” He stated.

You felt your throat go tight.  Stay on task.  Stay on task.  You cleared your throat slightly as you averted your eyes from him.  “Well, let’s have a look.”

With a little less flair than yesterday, he removed his jacket like before, followed by his shirt as he turned around to display his back for you.

You could see that the bandages were seeped through.  You had laid them on thick since you knew you wouldn’t be able to check on him as often as you’d like – he was still going out to do Shigaraki’s bidding and you had others to look after as well.  You were planning on seeing him daily, but it looked like he’d need more. 

Your little checkups were far from over.  You couldn’t help but wonder what he thought about that.  You honestly weren’t sure what you thought about it yourself.

“I’m going to use my quirk and then change your bandages.  I’ll check on you again tomorrow morning before you leave.”

“How often do we have to do this?” Dabi asked.  His tone was difficult to decipher.  Concerned? Annoyed? …Hopeful?

You cleared your throat again, desperate for a glass of water, as you began to remove the soiled gauze. “I’ll probably visit you twice daily for the first week, then reduce it to once a day or every couple of days for the second week.  We’ll see where we are by then.  It’ll take at least a few weeks before it’s fully healed.  That’s only if you’re good though, and don’t go out and use your quirk for a bit.”

“I won’t make any promises.” He replied.

You sighed.  “Well, at least your honest.  Really though, you should at least try not to use it.”

“That’s up to the Crusty Hands.” Dabi replied.  “He’s the one sending me out there to try to recruit members and gather intel.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname for Shigaraki.  “Couldn’t you ask him for a break then?” You asked, your head tilted. “No point in making you hurt yourself over lackey work.”

The question was innocent enough, but Dabi turned around and stared at you like you grew a second head. Ask Shigaraki for time off? The thought made Dabi bristle for so many reasons.

You quickly caught on to his shift in mood and tried to repair your previous statement. “Look.  I get it if that’s an issue for you. Maybe I could be the one to ask him.  I can make it a medical request, since I’m the healer.”

That option almost seemed worse.  He didn’t need to be excused from his duties like a child with a sick note. And he most certainly didn’t want you putting your neck out for him.

“Look, I know your still kinda new here.  So, let me break this down.  There is no ‘sick time’ in the League of Villains.  No vacation, no hazard pay.  We all got our jobs to do.”

Now you bristled, your shoulders tensing up and your arms crossed in front of you defensively. “Yeah.  And my job is to make sure you crazy idiots don’t kill yourselves before we complete our mission.  You know, the big long-term one where we change the world, not the pointless dirty work Shigaraki’s got you doing.”

“Pointless dirty work? That dirty work is how we reach that long-term goal, sweetheart.”   Dabi grinned devilishly.  “I didn’t realize you had such strong opinions about how we do things here.”

“Just the part about using your talents for recruiting street thugs.  Most of them are idiots that can’t tell Stain’s message from an anarchist bumper sticker.”

You were right, of course. Dabi chuckled.  You were more interesting than he thought.

“Look,” you said, your voice quieter as you uncrossed your arms.  “We’re all in this together come hell or high water, and I’m really hoping we can all see it through to the end.  If that means taking some time off to let your body recover, then I’d think that’d be worth doing.”

Dabi stared at you silently while something tightened in his chest.  Your need to hold everyone together like glue was admirable and almost… endearing.  He felt a sinking feeling in his gut.  He knew there was a high likelihood they wouldn’t all see the end of this, if the end ever even comes.  Did you know that but stubbornly hold onto your optimism?  Or were you really that naïve that you believed there was a chance that everyone could come out unscathed?  When the worst happens – which it inevitably will – will you blame yourself?

The thought bothered him.

For the first time Dabi’s mask slipped, and for the briefest of moments you could see the pity in his eyes.

“Thanks for the concern doll, but I got it under control.” Dabi said, his voice unusually calm. “Besides, if I took time off every time I hurt myself with my quirk, then I’d never be any use.”

Between his eyes and his words, there was no room for discussion, so you let the topic drop. 

You let out a defeated sigh. “Well then, let’s get started.” You placed your hands on his back.

Once again, the sweet balm of your touch spread across his skin, bringing back the relief he had missed. His body responded instinctively. His breathing slowed; his muscles relaxed.  He closed his eyes, relishing in the sensation.  You noticed the slightest drop in his shoulders and a pang of sympathy washed over you like a wave.  You wished you could do more for him, but you had to conserve your quirk for the others too.

You cleaned his wound quickly and applied fresh bandages without any more talk.  As quickly as it had begun, it was over.  Without missing a beat, he pulled his shirt back on while you packed your items.

You turned to leave, but paused for a moment before turning back slightly, your eyes bravely locking with his.  “Try to get some rest… it’ll help your body heal faster.”

Dabi didn’t respond with his usual quips.  Instead, his electric blue eyes stared at you in a way that made your blood pulse in your ears and the air burn in your lungs.  You stood captivated for a moment, locked in his gaze, before finding your way out of the maze of his eyes and left his room, hearing the quiet click of the door behind you.

 Without a word, Dabi sat on the edge of the bed and stared at his hands.  His brow furrowed in confusion.

This was supposed to be a game.  A game of walls and mazes and misdirection. He was the ‘Asshole,’ full of snarky comments and flirty quips all while withholding his true self.  He didn’t need friends, just coworkers so he could carry out his mission and bring Stain’s vision to life before his quirk killed him.  But your magic hands dismantled his walls, allowing you to walk right in and get in his head with your stubborn heart.  He had cared. For the briefest of moments, he cared.

It was his game.  Why did he feel like he was losing?

______________________________________________________________

Part 3

__________________________________________________

Taglist: @lemonfvck​ @vs-redemption​ @inanabsentia​ @sheedaabee​ @toshiuwuu​ @marydragneell​ @chillinwithmybakubros​ @genuinelytodorokisbitch​ @sam-i-am-1025​

[queenofwerewolves]

Future Hope - chapter 2 - Starting something new..

They were almost ready, all they needed was the one thing every revolution heroes needed: Badass outfits. For that, they counted on Griff to make some patterns to stick on their outfits or whatever weapons they carried, Kip suggested to make stickers to glue them around the city whenever a crime occured and they came to the rescue, to leave a message that something happened. Everyone loved that idea, and eitch one got to work in making their outfits, stickers and whatever else they needed to start the revolution for real...

With stickers and acessories settled, now they needed the main thing: The outfits. But.. No one knew how to sew or make clothing.

"Wait!" Maria shouted. "I know someone! Ya'll remember Maggy yeah?" She added with a tone of excitement.

"Ah, isnt she the one who draws the Metal Werehog and how you joke she refuses to tag you in them?" Togekiss answered with a tone of sass. Maria blushed and pouted her lips.

"Yeah yeah. Anyways she's visiting here for a local con, selling her drawings and prints, did you know she actually sews and knits clothes?" Maria added with a tad of admiration.

"Really? Well shit badass then" Blink added with a soft smile. "How do we get in contact with her?" She asked.

"She should be at the event center setting up her booth stand. If we leave now we'll have plenty of time to talk to her." Maria answered with a confident tone.

"What are we waiting then?" Kip added. "Let's go!"

Everyone nodded and made their way to the local event center.

At that same event center, Maggy was setting up her booth, putting her prints up on the sides and on top of her desk, showing the kind of work she does and displaying her various pieces she drew herself, whether it was her OCs, Silent Hill or Sonic theme, eitch was individually beautiful and unique. She also set up a small cashier and some paper and pens for possible requests on the fly, or a doodle with an autograph, you can never be too prepared.

She was organizing her papers when a small hand knocked on the wooden booth to call her attention, she looked up to see the entire Future Hope crew, with Maria in front and smiling confidently.

"Maria!" She exclaimed happily, going around the booth for a hug, who Maria happily accepted the hug.

"It's so good to see you!" She said with an excited tone, she pulled apart from the tone and looked at the remaining others, many she didnt recgonize. "And.. Who are these?" Maggy asked.

"Ah, Maggy these are some of my Tumblr friends, like you! Im sure you know Griff already" Maria said referring to Griff, who had a hand behind his hand and sheepishly smiling. "But you see.. We kinda need a moment to talk to you, if that's OK" Maria asked, practically whispering to Maggy.

Maggy nodded, and leaded them to another area of the convention center which was emptier, so they could have some privacy. Once they got there, Maria explained as basicly as she could about her and Future Hope, the wishing fountain, their new powers, their intentions.. Maggy listened quietly, but intriguied as anyone would be.

"Woahh.." Maggy said, finally hearing the end of the story. "You guys really are gonna be super heroes?" She asked with a spark of excitement. "And I get to help?"

Maria nodded with a smile. "We need you to make outfits for us, whenever you have the time of course. None of can sew but we have the designs here for you. That is, if you-"

"Yes!!!" . Suddenly being cut off, Maggy got up with smiled with pride, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "I'd be honoured to help! This'll be so cool!! I'll have those made for you as soon as I can!" She said taking the designs from Maria.

Maria smiled and pulled her in for a hug. "I knew I could count on you.." She said softly. "Of course" Maggy responded. "After all: Nós portuguesas têm que contar uma na outra né?"

"Haha! Falou e disse amiga!" Maria responded in portuguese, both laughing together while leaving the others clueless, but nonetheless happy for them.

"Well." Maggy said. "I should head back, the con will start soon". Maria nodded and looked at the others, who agreed it was time to go home and wait, with a final hug, they said their goodbyes and headed back to Maria's house.

They werent simply gonna stand around and wait for the costumes to be ready, until then, they decided to fix up the one thing every SuperHero group needed: An HQ. A place to reunite, plan, organize and discuss strategies whie also knowing about whatever recent crime could be going on.

But of course, they were only a couple of young and very, very broke adults. Griff's Youtube Channel was starting to blow up but nothing too extreme yet, but he will get there soon. Same for Maria and her animation channel, they were started to get discovered but they had a long way to go. But it'll happen.

In the meantime, Maria does have a big and very spacious basement, they decided they would settle there for now. Blink and Kip started brooming the floor, Muffin and Spooks were dusting the walls, Muffin used her wings to reach the roof and corners, and Spooks enjoyed the darkness of the basement to summon her Dark Hands to help the job go quicker. Rooko and Rooki decided to go to a hardware store and get some new materials and give the basement a better fixer upper, install some new lights, maybe install a window...

Spike and Togekiss were out looking for things to decorate the HQ, a table, a rug, some chairs, a new wallpaper perhaps.. Meanwhile Maria and Griff were online shopping for some cool props to decorate the HQ as well, using Maria's laptop, they scowered the internet.

"Oo!" Exclaimed Griff, pointing at the screen. "This life-size Master Chief would really spice up the place!" He said excitedly, Maria shook her head with a soft smile. "Griffy we're only looking for small decorations, not turning my basement into nerdvana" She answered.

"Oh.. Right.. Sorry.." He sort of mumbled out, Maria raised a brow in concern and set the laptop next to her, placing a hand on his arm. "Is something wrong..?" She softly asked..

".. It's just.." Griff started to answer. "You know how overly-excited I get. You know how hyped and impacient I get for these things.. Im just worried that... That.."

"Yes..?" Maria asked.

"... What if I blow it?" He asked, with a tone of sadness. "What if my powers arent as good as I thought? What if instead of helping everyone, I just make everything worse..?!" His voice tone got louder as he started to slightly panic. "Im a big, musculent WereRabbit, that HAS to be scary in a way isnt it? Im practically a Mons-"

"Dont you dare finish that word!!!" Maria shouted at him, gripping his shoulders hard, looking at him straight in the eye, her black eyes glimmering like a starry night without the moon.. Glimmering with worry.

"Listen to me very, carefully. No matter what you are, or what you do. You.. will never, be a Monster.." "Monsters arent the big unknown creatures we see in movies, they're out there, looking like us, gaining people's trust just so they can take advantage of them, taking or ruining innocent lives, people who have their heads so far up their asses they've become blind and see nothing but themselves. THOSE ARE MONSTERS!!!" She raised her voice, shaking a little bit. Griff only stared at her, shaking a bit as well, until suddenly Maria placed her head on his chest, pulling him in for a hug..

"You're not even close to being like them, and your physical appearance doesnt define your heart.. Please, never doubt yourself like that again.. Because you are better then this, and you know it.." She quietly spoke, waiting for a reply.. Which she didnt receive. Griff embrace the hug back, and that was all that needed to be said, without words whatsoever. Between those two, the message was clear:

Monsters are the ones who cause darkness around them, and not them, or their friends are even close to being them, they are the opposite. They will be the light, a new beginning, a new..

Future Hope..

[x-gotham-rogues]

Okay! I have a very cute one: How would the Dork Squad + Harley react if, through a new Pen-Pal Program Arkham was implementing, they met a pen-pal who not only wrote them at least once or twice a week, but always wrote on very cute/fancy stationary, and sent them presents based on their interests as often as they could? Just imagining them receiving adorable letters in cute-ass envelopes along with gifts makes my heart go doki-doki. Thank you!

Jonathan Crane:

He appreciates the gestures

His pen-pal’s letters are definitely… unique, from his usual fan mail

But was the neon pink gel pen necessary? Really?

Some of the meaner inmates laugh at him because of all these cutesy envelopes, but he doesn’t mind

The presents, however, he appreciates especially

Books and textbooks on psychology, horror novels, those are the things that keep him entertained in the hellhole known as Arkham

The only gift he’s ever sent back was a copy of the Legend of the Sleepy Hollow; his pen-pal need not worry, though, all mistakes are forgiven

One time, his pen-pal put in a drawing of a chibi Jon surrounded by tons of cute little crow stickers

Jon loves it; he keeps it safe in his main hideout where no scheming happens so that Batman won’t barge in and blow it up along with his diabolical plans

Edward Nygma:

HEEELLLLLLL YEEEAAAAAAAHHHHH GLLLLIIIIIITTTTTTERRRRR PENNNNNNNNSSSSSSSSS

He is going to ask his pen-pal for the green and some black stationary that they use

His pen-pal, not seeing a problem, buys Ed some and sends them over

And of course, Arkham is now getting an onslaught of cute, colourful sparkly letters covered in question marks being sent back and forth

By question marks, I mean they range from written to drawn to stickers to coloured paper and more

He’s constantly asking about whether or not his pen-pal sent another letter

One time, his pen-pal didn’t write for a whole month

Concerned, Ed broke out of Arkham just to use his detective skills to track them down and make sure they were okay

Turns out, they broke an arm and both hands in some sort of accident but doesn’t have enough money to pay for the best treatment to make sure their fractured bones heal properly

Edward proceeds to rob BRUCE FUCKING WAYNE and gives his pen-pal the money, making sure that they use it before it could be traced back to them

When Ed gets captured by Batman and left at the police precinct, Bruce (who’s done his own detective work as Batman and knows where the stolen money went) doesn’t press charges, much to Commissioner Gordon’s surprise

Soon enough, the cutesy letters slowly but steadily started pouring in again

Jervis Tetch:

*starts chanting* WONDERLAND THEMES! WONDERLAND THEMES! WONDERLAND THEMES!

ALICE STICKERS! TOP HAT STICKERS! CHESHIRE CAT STICKERS! CATERPILLAR STICKERS!

Adorable letters and fantastical themes? Done

Glitter galore, highlighter massacre, neon pen overuse

His pen-pal also likes to send him contemporary versions of Alice in Wonderland that come out, including musical manuscripts, new novels and such

Jervis wasn’t too sure about the one where Alice was actually plotting to take over Wonderland the whole time and the readers don’t catch on to it until the end, when Alice actually manages to take control of Wonderland, but the rest he absolutely adores

Jervis loves sharing the letters and gifts he receives from his pen-pal

It’s a point of both pride and fulfilment for him

Harley Quinzel:

You know she’s going to send them cute shit in return

Unlike the last three who were maybe enthusiastic, Harls is absolutely ecstatic

Red and black themes, little shaped doodles, love letter-type envelopes, it’s cute but also aesthetic as Hell

Harley loves writing about drama that happens in Arkham, her friends, ships she wants to sail, etc. to her pen-pal

Her pen-pal, in return, fills her in with all the juicy gossip from the outside world

It’s like, aesthetic gossiping

Ivy likes to peek and read Harley’s pen-pal’s letters, because they often include things Ive is interested in as well

So Harley’s pen-pal is basically her gossip buddy and informant in one

[konan-supernova]

WHOOOO WROTE THIS IN LIKE AN HOUR WITH NO EDITING HERE Y'ALL GO

WARNINGS: spoilers for the Steven Universe finale, (probably) inaccurate depictions of therapy, and mention of trauma (let me know if I missed anything)

---

Steven fiddled with the hem of his shirt, picking at the few loose threads he found hanging around. He was careful not to pull on them, though, as he was looking to avoid unraveling half his shirt during his first therapy session here. He wanted to at least try to make a good impression.

Speaking of which, he was already pretty sure this wasn't a fit for him. He'd already gotten a strange impression here. Connie had recommended he try out a few different specialists before settling on one…. Despite having not yet met the doctor, he was already uncomfortable in the space.

The sign in the waiting room had been flipped from "Quiet! Session in session!" to "Come on in, patient!" when Steven got there, so he had settled into the office room where he was supposed to meet his potential therapist. Nobody was there at first, so Steven waited for about a minute and a half, taking time to examine the room.

The office was way less serious than he'd been expecting: the bookshelves and desk were covered in cartoon and kids movie memorabilia, and the walls were bright and decorated with various animal stickers. It felt a bit too childish for Steven, who was trying to deal with his more adult problems as he grew older. He wasn't really looking to be treated like a child again.

So, yeah. He'd sit through the session and let Dad know that he wanted to try someone else.

He jumped as the door clicked open behind him, though the hallway outside was empty. Had the door opened on its own, or…?

"Tears of sorrow, tears of joy-"

What? That's… no way!

"-there'll be tears to the very end!"

Is my therapist singing...

"Food with feelings-"

...the theme song for…

"-Crying Breakfast Friends!"

Steven blinked as the doctor jumped into the office, swinging his arms wildly as he finished the song.

"Hello, hello, hello! My name's Dr. Picani, and you must be my new patient!"

"Um, yeah. Steven Universe, nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Steven!" Picani performed a deep bow, bouncing upright a second later. He sat at his desk and pulled out a journal, adjusting his glasses.

"So, what can I do 'ya for?"

"Well, I had a pretty bad breakdown recently, and I wanted to talk about it, and, um, prevent myself from getting that bad again."

"Alright, Steven. That kind of thing is perfectly normal, especially for teenagers," Picani set down his journal, leaning back into his chair. "It can be very hard to deal with the powerful emotions that come with puberty, and-"

"I don't think it was just that," Steven sighs. And fine, he's really going to try, he's really going to be open and honest with this quack.

"Can you elaborate?"

"Um, yeah. Only if, uh, if you promise to believe me. At least to listen to me."

"It's my job to listen, Steven."

And he really was listening, by the looks of things: he was leaned forward now, arms resting on his desk with his journal in hand. He was staring at Steven intently, but not accusingly. It was a gentle, almost parental gaze.

Steven felt very, very safe then, for reasons he couldn't quite describe.

"I'll start at the beginning."

"It's a very good place to start!"

"Um, right. So, I'm only half human. I'm half Gem, which is a type of alien species that made contact with the Earth thousands of years ago…"

---

"...and then, I guess I corrupted. I didn't even think I could, but I did, and I did it to myself. Nobody got hurt that time, but I don't know how to…" 

Steven paused, grabbing another tissue from the box next to him. I don't know how to what?

"It's alright, Steven. Take your time." Picani's voice was gentle and reassuring, and Steven nodded. He took a deep breath, wiped his eyes, and tried again.

"I guess I don't know how to move on. I hurt people, a lot, and I hurt myself in a way, and I don't know how to keep going after that. I don't know what to do with my life now, or, or how to recover from any of this."

"That's a lot to deal with. I'm very glad you came to talk to someone about what you've been through. You shouldn't have had to deal with that on your own."

"Yeah, I guess." Steven drooped on couch, peaking at the clock on the wall opposite him. It had only taken ten minutes to completely spill his heart out and explain sixteen years of trauma.

At least Picani had believed him. To most humans, his story would have sounded like fantasy. He was lucky to have met a therapist who take at least that seriously.

"Steven, do you watch cartoons?"

The teen in question looked up slowly at Dr. Picani, eyes wide in shock at the complete nonsequitur.

He glanced around the office again. The same plastic figures met his gaze, and something clicked.

"Do you think I'm lying to you?"

Now it was Picani's turn to look shocked and confused.

"Lying to me...? What makes you ask that?"

"Oh, I don't know… I just told you my life story, and the whole reason I'm here, and you ask about cartoons?! Like, like you're going to compare my trauma to a kid's show?"

"Er, that's not quite what I was going to say," Picani says placatingly, voice soft and soothing. Steven glares at him, but remains quiet.

"Steven, I believe you. You showed me your gem and your shield and, well, I've always believed in the supernatural. I was going to compare your life to a cartoon not because your pain is comical, trivial, or inconsequential, but because we can learn so much from the medium that I believe would help you understand some of what you're going through."

"...what do you mean?"

"Well, there's a show I watch called Crying Breakfast Friends. Have you heard of it?"

"Um, yeah."

"Good! Well then, as you know, the show is comprised of very simple and similar episodes, where characters cry over their conflicts, and then cry as those conflicts are resolved."

"Yeah, all they do on that show is sing and cry," Steven scoffs, though he smiles a little - he grew up with Crying Breakfast Friends, after all, and could probably point out better than anyone the nuances and real important of the seemingly trivial cartoon.

"Well, let's talk about that. It sounds to me like you got to where you were because you couldn't talk or vent to anyone. I would say that the characters in CBF have some of the best support systems I've seen! Everyone can talk and vent to everyone, and everyone feels safe with everyone else."

"So, I need to cry more…?"

"You need to talk about how you're feeling more. Acknowledging and monitoring how you're feeling is the first step to controlling your reaction to those feelings."

"What's the difference between controlling the reaction and controlling the feeling?"

"You can't control how you feel, Steven. If you feel a certain way, it's because you're naturally reacting to something going on in your life."

"...but I can control what I do because of that feeling," Steven brought a hand to his head and began to tap his finger on his temple. "That's the hard part, isn't it?"

"Exactly right. It'll take time and work, but the first step is to be in touch with your feelings and to understand what you're feeling and why. The characters in CBF always know why they're crying - sometimes it's tears of sorrow, other times it's tears of joy. But they always know, and knowing is half the battle."

---

"Well, Steven, it was lovely to speak with you, and I hope you come back again soon. A lot of people overlook how beneficial counseling can be! Don't be afraid to get help for your issues."

"I think I'll come back again," Steven said quietly. "I wasn't really planning on it, um, seeing how obsessed you were with cartoons. But, you made a really interesting connection between my feelings and the feelings of animated breakfast foods."

"Well, that's my job!" Picani beamed at him, and Steven could feel an overwhelming amount of pride radiating from him. "You took this first session very well. You're a good kid, Steven. Let me know when you're free for another session."

"Thanks, Dr. Picani." Steven smiled, feeling happy for the first time in awhile. "I will."

---

NOTE: I based a lot of this after my own therapy sessions but I AM NOT A THERAPIST. I can't provide real medical advice and I don't mean this fic to function as such. If you need professional help, please seek a qualified professional. Stay safe!!

[heartofsnark]

This Is Love (Chapter Two: Lukewarm Welcomes

Notes: Well...I was planning on posting this three days ago....but instead i vanished from the internet for a bit, a nice quarantine mental health crisis as i went into the weekend, we love that. 

Word Count: 11,557

Chapter Warnings: Cursing, anti-cop dialogue, harassment, implications of domestic/family violence

For chapter one and the warnings about this fics overarching themes, please click here! 

A little bell chimes over head as Dahlia steps into the registration building for the Moonflower Trailer Park, there’s little racks of magazines, pamphlets, and maps of tourist attractions. A young girl is at the desk, talking on the phone with someone as Dahlia tries to preoccupy herself with looking through things. 

A plain white pamphlet draws her eye, the simplicity of it standing out among the vividly colored ones.  It’s stark white with that strange cross symbol, from the signs and book, like sunbeams coming from the center of it, black text above the symbol says, ‘Eden’s Gate’ and text below it says, ‘We Love You’. 

Before she can flip it open, the woman at the registration desk hangs up, calling her over with a “Miss?” 

“I’m Hale, we talked on the phone, I’m here to rent a trailer.”

The woman’s eyes flicker down to the pamphlet in her hand and her nose wrinkles like she’s smelled something awful. 

“You ain’t no peggie, are you?” 

“A peggie?” 

“Oh, shit, you really are new here, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah, this was in one of your racks.”

“Damn it, I told them to stop unloading their shit here. Look, I don’t wanna scare you away from Hope County, but the peggies are fucknuts, steer clear of them.” 

“They dangerous?” 

“No more than most of us, but they’re major prudes and buzzkills. Like, think Jesus is gonna firebomb my ass for cumming, type buzzkills.” 

“Oh, that…sucks.” She has no idea where this woman is coming to that a religious group would think she deserves hell for it, but if the woman says they’re not dangerous, it’s not really any of her business, she really just wants her trailer. 

“C’mon, I’ll show you the trailer and we’ll get everything set up.” 

The trailer park isn’t huge, RVs and regular trailers all over it, a little playground in the middle for the resident’s kids with a slide, swings, and a little pool. A trailer with a diner inside of it, advertising bingo, and a little station filled with washing machines and dryers. None of the trailers outfitted with them. It’s a single wide with a little porch, nothing fancy; a living room, bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen. All she needs, nothing seems damaged or out of place. 

“Looks, good to me.” 

“Alrighty, we’ll get your down payment and registration settled, then you can have the keys and move in whenever you feel.” 

“It’ll be a bit before I move in officially,” Dahlia tells her as they step outside the trailer, a few people bustling around 

“Why’s that?” 

“I’m coming all the way from Louisiana, still gotta get my shit moved in.” 

The woman whistles, eyes wide. 

“Hell of a move, but I tell you, you won’t find anywhere as beautiful as Hope County.” 

“I’m excited.” 

“Hey, Darcy, we got someone new coming in?” A woman asks, holding a kid on her hip, looking Dahlia up and down. 

“Yeah, we’re just getting her squared away.” 

“I’m Ruth, it’s always nice to see a new face.” 

“Thanks,” Dahlia awkwardly scratches the back of her head, “I, uh, really appreciate the warm welcome.” 

People aren’t her strong suit, she just never feels like she knows what to say, so she’d rather not say anything. 

“Shy girl, don’t worry we’ll knock that out of you, real quick. We’re like a big ole family here at the Moonflower.” 

“I’ll do my best not to get in the way.” 

“Pfft, fuck that, you better be out here getting piss faced with everyone else when the Boshaw’s throw their next barbecue.” 

“They’ll really find any excuse to get drunk, won’t they?” Darcy laughs, running a hand through her dark pixie cut. 

“I don’t even know why they still let Sharky in here, dude got banned from renting, but can still show up, do his laundry and get drunk, makes no damn sense.” 

“Y’know damn well, my mom and dad don’t have the heart to ban him completely.” 

“Yeah, yeah, but if he sets my trailer on fire again, we’re gonna be having another chat,” the toddler squirms, trying to break away for something, “someone is getting fussy, I’ll see ya around, stranger.” 

Dahlia waves goodbye to Ruth, a smile playing at her lips. The trailer park definitely seems to be a bit on the chaotic side from the sounds of it, but the warm welcome eases her nerves. She really can see herself settling in and finding some happiness. 

She goes with Darcy and takes care of the last of the details, a new key in her hand. Pride swells in her chest, it’s just a trailer, but she has her own place. She’s an adult who’s adulting. 

Once everything at the Moonflower is settled, Dahlia’s back at her hotel, haphazardly tossing her things in her luggage before check out time. Always late.  Everything settled, she dashes down to the reception desk, the woman has been thankfully kind about the whole sleepwalking fiasco last night. Not only did she bring Dahlia back in with a blanket, she even had the kitchen make her some hot chocolate before she went to sleep. 

“You checking out?” 

“Yeah, gotta rush back home.” 

“Ah, we gonna see more of you in Hope County.”  There’s a hopeful lilt to the woman’s voice and it makes Dahlia smile, the people in this county are really friendly. 

“I’m moving here, actually.” 

“That’s wonderful! Ah, I’m sure you’ll fit right in, I have some friend who I know would just adore you. Let me know once you’ve settled in.” 

“Uh, will do, thanks.” 

A quick wave bye and Dahlia’s headed out the door, climbing back on her back to ride the long way back to Reinette. 

It’s a long way, a pit stop in Denver along the way to keep her from losing her mind from exhaustion. She finds herself at the same roach motel she stayed at along the way to Hope County, no reason to go digging for something else. It’s past midnight when she’s checked into her room and is throwing her stuff on a creaking bed, staring at a stained ceiling. She already misses the hotel in Hope County. 

Her joints pop and crack as she heads to the shower;  she washes and hums along to her music and she half expects the odd hallucinations to return. It’s later in the day and she’s no doubt more exhausted now than she was last night. But, nothing happens. Her eyes are the same familiar brown when she looks in the mirror, no sirens try to lure her away, and she doesn’t find herself stumbling through a labyrinth. 

She wakes up the next morning in the dingy little bed and she’s back on the road as soon as she can get there. By nightfall she’s made her way back to Reinette, pulling up in front of Lloyd and Caroline’s farmhouse. 

The large wooden home with warm amber light seeping out from the windows. It looks and feels like a home. Sometimes, it feels like it could be Dahlia’s. 

“Stray!” Lloyd yells out as soon as she’s stepped foot inside, pulling her into a warm bone crushing hug before she can say a word. She melts into it, hugging him right back, letting the heat of him chase away the chill outside.  

“C’mon, we’ve been waiting on ya,” he tells her after he reluctantly pulls away from the hug, tugging her towards the dinner table. The smell of homemade stew hitting her nose and making her stomach growl, she can’t remember a time before Lloyd and Caroline where she could come home to an actual cooked meal. She doesn’t think it ever existed. 

“So, what exactly happened, something about a bar?” Caroline asks, as Dahlia begins to gobble up her food. 

“Well,” she slurs out her words around her mouthful of food, unwilling to stop eating just for a conversation, “there’s some bar in Fall’s End, some jackass tried to rob it and next thing I know Whitehorse is calling me his Junior Deputy.” 

“Junior Deputy?” Caroline refills Dahlia’s bowl as soon as she hears the spoon scratching against the china, her eyebrow is raised, and Lloyd looks like he’s holding back a laugh. 

“Thanks, uh, I guess it’s a term they use for their rookie deputies up there.” She shrugs, the term was strange, but she didn’t give it much more thought. 

Lloyd’s unable to hold back his laughter anymore, face going beet red as he bursts into chuckles. Dahlia narrows her eyes at him, unsure what exactly could be so funny.

“That’s what they call the program for the little kids, Stray, when you give ‘em cardboard badges and stickers, they’re Junior Deputies. Earl was giving you shit, you were just too dumb to notice.”

Heat crawls up Dahlia’s face, she’s not sure if it’s from anger or embarrassment. Either way, she’s not happy and finds herself throwing a dinner roll at Lloyd’s head.

“Hey. I’m not dealing with any mess,” Caroline threatens, but Dahlia is busy glaring at Lloyd.

“He knows damn well I’m not a kid.”

“No one would know just by looking at ya.”

“You waste one more roll, you’ll be doing the dishes by yourself.”

Dahlia lowers her arm and instead shoves it in her mouth, looking at Caroline as she chews it, trying to ask if she’s happy now without the words, but the older woman simply rolls her eyes.

“Look, you know damn well that hazing is part of a new job, you aren’t gonna manage to avoid it.”

“Yeah, yeah, one of the other deputies was busting my balls before I even got the job.”

“Just means they knew you’d get the job,” Lloyd says with a grin.

“I’m pretty sure he’s just an asshole.”

“You thought that about Chase, too.”  Chase is one of the officers for the Reinette department, a little shit.

“Yeah and I was right, Chase is an asshole.”

“But you don’t mind it anymore.”

“Sure...we’ll go with that.”

“Was everyone there giving you a hard time?”

“Uh,” her heart seems to beat a little faster when she thinks of Hudson, what is wrong with her, “no, the other deputy was…nice…” 

Caroline and Lloyd shoot each other some look, a meaning behind it that Dahlia can’t catch. 

“Is something wrong?”

“Uh, no, just for some reason when I met that deputy, I just got all weird, I guess.” 

“Weird?” 

“Yeah, like my heart was racing, I felt like I was burning up. It was super weird.” 

“Oh my god.” Caroline places a hand to her smiling mouth, looking over at Lloyd like she just struck gold. 

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it.” 

“Can’t believe what?” Dahlia asks, what the fuck kind of conversation are they having with their eyes, what are they freaking out about. 

“I was starting to think it wasn’t gonna happen, which I mean, is fine some people just don’t feel that sort of way. But, here we are.” 

“She really is growing up,” Caroline remarks, still smiling. 

“I don’t know what you’re freaking out about, I’m probably just allergic to her perfume or something, I don’t know.” That makes sense, right? Why are they freaking out?

“Her?” Caroline raises an eyebrow, why does it matter? Why does any of this matter?

“Eh, lets be honest, Care Bear, are you really surprised?” 

“No, but it’s nice to know, would have been nicer to know when I was trying to set her up with Susan’s boy.”

“Ugh, Susan’s boy, guy or girl Stray needs someone with more than two braincells.” 

“She barely has any braincells.”

“Rude.” 

“That’s exactly why she needs someone with a brain! You can’t have two idiots, that’s how someone ends up dead. You can have a smart person and another smart person, you can have an idiot and a smart person. But you can’t have two idiots, it’s a disaster in the making.” 

“Hey, I’m not an idiot!” 

“Look, it’s not meant to be an insult.” 

“That’s literally the only way it can be meant.” 

“I don’t mean that you’re stupid, you’re just…what’s the word I’m looking for Caroline?” 

“Stupid.” 

“I will start throwing food again.” 

“Okay, okay, lets change the subject for now,” Lloyd holds his hands up in mock surrender, “that bar you were talking about in Falls End, wasn’t the Spread Eagle was it?”

Lloyd was actually born and raised in Hope County, but he left when he was around twenty-eight. He always tells the story of him moving to Reinette like it was magic, taking over an inherited farm from an estranged relative after their death, meeting Caroline, falling instantly and love, raising more foster children than Dahlia could imagine. They had just stopped taking in foster children, having adopted and raised the last one into adulthood, when Dahlia ended up in their barn. Lloyd, ever the dramatic, likened it to adopting cats and then once you’re done adopting, a stray just wanders in and adopts you.  

“Yeah, you know the place?” 

“Gary and Irene always use to give me and Earl discounts, it was always the first place we went after a shift.” 

She can see that, so easily in her mind, the two men when they were younger leaving a long drawn out shift to let off steam in the local bar. It’s hard to imagine just how good of friends they must have been, spending time together after every workday and staying in contact even when Lloyd moved so far away. She can’t imagine having a friend like that. 

“I think the woman running it was called Mary May, something like that?” 

“Seriously, holy shit, Mary May was their little girl, my god she’s all grown up.”

“You’re old.” 

“Thanks, Stray.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

“You know, we should take a trip back to Montana sometime Care Bear, it’s been a while, plus we got a new reason to visit.”

“By the way, do you know what Eden’s Gate is?”  The weird religious group is still on her mind, it seems to be all over Hope County. If they’ve been there for a long while, then surely Lloyd would know what it is and who they are. He raises an eyebrow and she can practically see the gears turning in his head. 

“Can’t say that I do, why you ask Stray?” 

“Some religious group or something, they’re all over the county, even built a damn statue. Figured you might know what they are.”

“You mean, like the big deer statue near the Whitetail mountains?” 

“No, like a statue of a dude, like their founder or some shit, dude with a manbun.” She uses her hands to pull her hair back in a little bun-esque shape, as if the visual aid is necessary. 

“Yeah…that, I’ve never seen any of that, you sure, you ain’t losing it, Stray?” 

“Yes, I’m very sure I’m not losing it. They don’t seem like bad folks, the one I met, but they’re definitely strange.” 

“You’re not gonna go and try to find religion in Hope County, are you?” Caroline asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“Oh fuck no.” 

“I was about to say, I haven’t gotten to set foot in a church in two years.” 

“I’m pretty sure she’d burst into flames.” 

Lloyd and Caroline share a smile, cracking up at Dahlia’s expense as she sticks a tongue out at them. 

“Hope they’re not the Jehovah Witness types, who go door to door,” Dahlia grumbles, the very thought making her stomach churn the stew inside of it. She’d rather blow her brains out then listen to someone preaching at her when she’s trying to relax.

“If they are, they’re about to meet their worst nightmare.” 

She can’t help but grin, the chatting continues for a while, just enjoying a cozy night in with the couple. Before, she knows it the food is gone and the night has gone on longer than usual. Lloyd and Caroline typically sleep early, rise early, while Dahlia is more of a night owl. 

But there’s an unspoken reluctance for the couple to turn in. Even as the moon hangs high in the sky, as Caroline and Lloyd yawn at the table. He even mentions playing a board game, cards, something. When she tells them to go to bed, Caroline nearly drifting off on his shoulder. She’s pulled into another hug, caring touches lingering as they finally drag themselves off to bed; tired voices slurring out goodnights. 

Maybe it’s egotistical, but the hesitance seems to hint at more. An understanding that this is likely among one of the last nights she’ll spend here with them and the desire to make it drag on as long as possible. To soak in every last moment of her being here. 

She knows she isn’t the greatest person to live with or even be around, that anyone should be happy to be rid of a leech like her. But, they’re far too kind for that. 

Dahlia takes a slow walk to the room she’s called her own for the past two years. She hasn’t changed anything in the time she’s been here, despite how much the couple has told her she could. Piles of clothes on the floor are the only thing that could be considered her personal touch. The small bed frame creaks as she sits down on the side, a second later the door is pushed open by Lucy, Lloyd and Caroline’s border collie. 

She lays a fluffy head on Dahlia’s knee and she buries her fingers into the fur, memories of the first time she held the dog. It was the first day she found herself here, hunkered down in their barn for shelter for the night, rain pouring down. She was scared that Lucy would bite her, aggressive towards a stranger. But just as kind as her owners, Lucy just shuffled herself closer to the drenched teenager, helping keep her warm through the stormy night. 

She’s changed so much in these past two years. 

Muscle tone and squish where was once a sack of bones, her fingers no longer able to slot in the spots between her ribs. Skin a healthier tan instead of the sickly pale it was that first night, ink now covering sections of that skin. Her first paychecks ending up in tattoos and clothes, taking control of her body and wardrobe in a way she’s never had before. For years her thick dark hair hung in a curtain down past her chest, that night and many nights before, it was tangled in thick dirty knots, matted to her skull in places. 

The very first day she was allowed to shower here, she grabbed a pair of scissors and hacked it off to the best of her abilities. Caroline later cleaned up the choppy job and now she’s found herself with a short bob of dark brown, nearly black hair. She’s really started to come into her own, feeling like her own person and becoming who she wants to be. 

She just wishes that was a person who could stay in Reinette. This is what has to happen, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t going to miss everything here. Lloyd and Caroline being the biggest thing, but Lucy, living on the farm, so much. It’s not like she’s never going to see them again. 

They’ll likely invite her back for visits, already making plans to visit her in Montana, but things are going to change. That’s unavoidable and undeniable. It’s scary, but most things worth doing are. 

Dahlia sees the sunrise before she finally manages to sleep in that bed for the last time. 

The next day, or more accurately after she’s gotten a few hours of sleep, everything is a frantic blur of activity as she tries to prepare for the move. It’s mostly clothes, a laptop, a portable game, and a few books. Nothing major or impressive, a tight pang in her chest as 

“Come on in.” 

The door creaks open and she looks over her shoulder to see Lloyd, something in his hand. His fingers clench and unclench, there's something in his hand, he shuffles a bit in the doorway.

"Something up?" She asks, throwing a few more shirts in her bag.

"Uh, I, well, what's this?" His eyes are drawn towards her open duffle bag, the same one she brought with her to Hope County, she's just been throwing her stuff in without much thought.

She raises an eyebrow as he starts to shift some stuff around in her bag, pulling out a heavy white book with that familiar cross like symbol. How did that get in there? Chills reverberate up her spine, goosebumps raising on her skin, it's starting to feel like this Eden's Gate shit is following her everywhere.

"That was at the hotel, I uh, must have thrown it in my bag by accident?" It's the only thing that makes sense.

"First day there and you're robbing the hotel?" 

"Shut up, I'll return it when I get back, but, uh, that's that religion I was talking about. Their book." 

He drops what he was holding, it looks like a little booklet, homemade. She grabs it as he starts flipping through the weird religious tome, she opens up the booklet. A photobook, the first one is of her, Lloyd, and Caroline at the fair, big puffy bags of cotton candy in her hand. Second one her holding an alligator and grinning, they drug her out to an alligator ranch one day, knowing how much she loves animals. Pictures from the beach trip they took her on, photos of her and Lucy. A photo from her first day at the station with everyone crowded around her.

 "Book of Joseph...god that's already creepy." 

"Huh," nostalgia interrupted she peers over at the book, seeing a portrait of a guy, “that's him!" "What?"

"That's the guy who had the fuckin' statue of him, their founder or whatever."

"Who the hell wants his face hanging over 'em? Seems like a total creep." 

“I don't know, he looks like Norman Bates there." She grimaces, the way he's glowering is entirely too reminiscent of the famous mother loving killer's signature look.

“Don't get it, I uh, hey, why are you looking at that?" He asks, peering down at the booklet in her hand. 

"It's mine, I'm allowed to look at it." 

"Who the hell said it's yours?" 

"So, you weren't giving this to me as a gift, you just made it for fun?" 

"Caroline made it and ya know, something to remember us by and..." His blue eyes blurring with tears. 

"I'm moving states, not going to war, Jesus Christ." 

"You're leaving, I'm gonna miss you." 

“No one is dying, stop, oh my god, stop crying you baby." She knocks her fist into his shoulder, no force or animosity behind it. 

“I haven't cried this much since Maya left for college," he tells her, talking about his youngest adopted daughter, who had left the home just a year or so before Dahlia showed up in their barn. The couple barely got a year of an empty nest before she barged in.

“Are you done?” She asks him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for the new fresh onslaught of tears to poor out. 

“Yeah, yeah, by the way everyone down at the station wants to see you before you head out.”

“Why?” 

“I don’t fucking know, maybe it’s ‘cause you’re leaving and they like you, some a little too much, as far as I’m concerned. “

“What do you mean?” 

“Oh, my sweet naïve child,” Lloyd dramatically cups a hand on the back of her head and pulls in for a hug, “whoever was supposed to teach ya about the birds and the bees, really fucked up, didn’t they?” 

“Shut up!” She groans, pushing him away, she’s not naïve. He just talks like a weirdo, she’s finally got her stuff all packed up, so she follows Lloyd out of the room. 

Caroline is in the kitchen and has been all day, according to Lloyd she’s been cooking up a storm for the past couple days, ever since Dahlia first left for her interview. 

“You coming down to the station with us?” 

“Uh, I’ll meet you down there later.” 

“Alrighty then.” 

Dahlia’s heart sinks, a pang there as she sets up her luggage and bags to be tried down to her motorcycle, she plans on getting on the road right after this little meeting. She knows it’s silly, but she was hoping Caroline would go with them. It will be the last they see of each other for a long while, she doesn’t want Lloyd’s sobbing, but she’d like at least a little more…fanfare. But, Caroline seems fairly nonchalant. 

“You ready to get going?” 

“Yeah.” 

Lloyd hops in his pickup truck, firing it up and driving into town with Dahlia riding her bike after him. 

There’s an extra weight to her sigh as she parks in front of the little police station, the one she’s been reporting to every day for the past two year and this the last time she’ll visit. Lloyd doesn’t even bother to wait around for her as she stares at the building, soaking it in for the last time before she finally trails in behind him. 

“Surprise!” A chorus of voices cheer out as she steps into the modest station, Micah and Chance two officers blowing on little party kazoos afterwards. 

“What the fuck?” 

“You didn’t think we could let you go without throwing you a party, did you?” Alexis tells her, squeezing Dahlia’s shoulder. 

Alexis has the most experience here after Lloyd and if he’d bother to retire before the station goes out, she’d be next in line. Micah and Chance are the resident dumbass officers, but they’re entertaining if nothing else. 

There’s a banner across the station office, Goodbye Stray. A sheet cake saying Good Luck on a table and Chance is throwing around confetti like a weird shredded paper fairy. 

“You guys are so dumb.” 

“We’re trying to be nice, brat,” Chance tells her, sprinkling confetti directly in her hair. 

“Come on, I’ll cut you a piece of cake before he covers it in paper,” Micah offers. 

Once the initial yell and Chance has run out of confetti, the party winds down into something more casual. Dahlia cramming cake in her mouth, with her feet propped up in Micah’s lap as they talk about everything. There’s a few other cops in the station, but most are on patrol and couldn’t make it. But Alexis, Micah, and Chance are by far the ones apart from Lloyd that she’s grown the closest too. 

Which makes it all the more depressing that the station is slowly dying out. Each of them has already started building their list of places to apply to once the inevitable happens. 

“I’m gonna miss you assholes,” Dahlia brings herself to say, after a moment. 

“Finally, she admits it,” Lloyd yells out excitedly. 

“Shut up.” 

“You’re gonna make some great friends over in Hope County.” 

“No one’s gonna be better than us, though.” 

“Shut up, Chance.” 

Dahlia can’t help but laugh at Alexis and Chance’s interaction, she really is going to miss these dumbasses. She doesn’t make friends easy, so parting with them and getting new ones is just that much more aggravating. Pratt was a dick and Hudson does weird things to her, how could she become friends with them? She doesn’t want to go to work everyday and either hate or be nauseous around her coworkers. 

“My friend Earl will keep an eye on her.” 

“Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid you mean,” Alexis teases and heat flushes up Dahlia’s cheeks.  Why does everyone think she’s stupid, why does Alexis have to think she’s stupid?

“You like it up in Montana?” Micah asks after a beat of silence. 

“I do, it’s colder up there which sucks, but it’s beautiful. Whitehorse is nice, I’ve met some friendly people,” she thinks of the couple with Boomer and the people of the trailer park. 

“I’m glad then.” 

“Watch out or Micah’s gonna be throwin’ in an application there just to follow you,” Lloyd says, grinning. 

“Would you stop?! I just wanted to make sure, she was going to be happy.” 

“Sure, you were.” 

They talk about anything and everything, Dahlia is the first one to leave, but all of them have looked into where they want to be post-Reinette. Alexis is looking into big cities, lots of work, showing just how talented she is. Chance isn’t going far, a county or two over at most. Micah still isn’t sure, but he’s thinking of leaving the state. 

The night drifts on, until the cake is gone, easily two-thirds of it ending up in the void Dahlia calls a stomach. Outside the sky has become a wash of oranges, pinks, and purple as the sun sets. It’s time to get going. 

“I gotta get on the road, if I have any chance of getting there with enough time to settle in.” 

Dahlia reluctantly stands from her chair, the time’s come. The last goodbye, for now at least, she hopes that they’ll stay in some form of contact after this. Alexis is the first to pull her into a hug and Dahlia freezes a bit, taken aback. 

“You’re gonna do great things out there.” 

Dahlia’s heart pangs and she squeezes Alexis back, hoping the strength of her hold can communicate how much those words mean to her. After a moment, they separate. Chance and Micah looking at her now. 

“Don’t think this gets you out of your promise, twenty-first birthday, you’re letting me take you out and get you piss faced drunk,” Chance tells her, grinning at his own stupid ideas. 

“If you wanna drive out to Montana just to see me drunk, that’s on you.”

“Don’t underestimate my stubbornness.” 

“I wasn’t.” 

“Just so you know, if you need anything, all you have to do is call and ask,” Micah tells her, squeezing her shoulder, but she can tell he’s holding back. 

“You can hug me, if you want.” 

And then his arms are around her, hugging her tight to his body. She squeezes him right back. A few moments pass, before they finally pull apart. 

“Well now I want a hug,” Chance says, upon the realization he’s the only who hasn’t gotten one. 

“Come here then, dumbass.” 

And then they’re hugging, Chance going the extra mile to pull her up off the ground. Another beat of just enjoying the warmth of someone who for some reason cares about her. She’ll never understand why. Why any of these people opened their hearts to her, but they did, and she’ll always be thankful for it. 

Lloyd walks her out once Chance has finally freed her, the sun sinking lower in the sky, she buries her hands in her pockets. Her throat is tight, it’s getting closer and closer to the time to leave. 

“You sure, you can’t just stay one more night here?” 

“It takes over a day just to get there.” 

“But uhhh,” Lloyd is nervously looking around as he stutters, like he’s trying to stall. 

“You alright?” 

“Well….um, it’s just…finally!” Lloyd yells as they hear the rumble of an engine coming in, Caroline’s car pulling into the parking lot. 

“Caroline?” 

“Thank god, I managed to catch you.” The older woman gets out of her car, tucking a short strand of blonde hair back behind her ear, she opens the passenger side and is rummaging for something. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Here, we go.” Caroline emerges from her passenger seat with a towering pile of Tupperware, all filled with various meals. 

“What the hell is this?” 

“You can’t cook, how the hell else are you supposed to eat up in Montana,” Caroline says, shoving the containers into Dahlia’s arms. 

“There’s restaurants, microwave meals, I have options.” 

“I’m not letting you eat garbage the whole time you’re there, this should at least get you through the first couple months.” 

“I, I don’t have room for six-hundred plastic containers, I drive a motorcycle.” 

“Eh, I’m sure you can fit ‘em into the under-seat compartment,” Lloyd says, already lifting the seat on Dahlia’s motorcycle and taking containers from her arms to force inside. 

Dahlia’s laughing by the time he’s forced the last of them inside, looks like she was proven wrong. 

“So, I’m just gonna be sitting on three months’ worth of meals all the way to Montana.” 

“Pretty sure that’s more like a week’s worth for you, but it’s better than nothing.” 

Dahlia smiles and chews her lip, not sure what to say. Emotion and sentimentality rising up in her. She feels like she has so much to say, every word cobbling together to catch in her throat. But she can’t just let it go, even if she has to force herself to dislodge a single of those words, she has to do it. 

“I…,” that’s a start, technically, “I, really, really, really, really don’t deserve you guys. Th-there’s not enough reallys in the world, but I’m serious, I-”

“Stray, you deserve all the good that’s comes your way, hell you deserve a lot more of it.” 

“I really don’t, I, I owe you guys so much and I know I can’t ever repay you for everything. But, I, I at least want you to know just how much it all means to me. If it wasn’t for you guys, I’d, be rotting in a gutter somewhere, I mean.”  

“Hey, hey,” she’s being pulled into Lloyd’s chest before she knows it, hugged tight against his chest, when did she start crying?

Her face feels like it’s on fire and her head is throbbing. After a moment, Lloyd pulls away. He places a hand on her shoulder and the other cups her jaw, forcing her to look at him through her tear-filled eyes. All her yelling at him to keep it together, don’t be a crybaby. And she’s the one falling apart. 

“You don’t owe us anything. We did our best to do right by you, because that’s what you deserve. Okay, you deserve a home and a family and people who love you.”

“Uhhh, agree to disagree…?” What the hell is her voice doing? It’s so broken and cracked, everything she says dragging out of her throat. 

“No disagreeing,” Caroline chimes in, her eyes soft and motherly. 

“We just want you to be happy, you deserve it.” 

“You think you can do that for us? Just be happy and you’ll more than pay back anything you think you owe us.” 

“I’ll try, I guess,” she murmurs, wiping tears from her eyes. 

“Good girl,” Caroline says, reaching out to ruffle Dahlia’s hair. The young girl laughs through her tears, pull Lloyd in for another hug before forcing one on Caroline. 

Dahlia wipes away the last of her tears. 

“Uh, sorry about that.” 

“No apologies, call as soon as you get there. We’ll try to come out and visit just as soon as we can.” 

“This ain’t goodbye forever, Stray, we’ll see you again before you know it.”

A bright silver moon hangs in the sky by the time she brings herself to part with them for the last time, climbing onto her motorcycle. 

Two mornings later and she’s pulling into the Moonflower Trailer Park, the sun rising overhead. A smile stretches across her lips as she pulls in, a few people already milling about in the early morning. She notices Ruth, helping ease her kid down the little slide in the miniature playground that’s at the center of the trailer park. The woman waves at her and Dahlia returns the gesture as she parks near her trailer. 

She pulls off her helmet and thanks for a moment, locking up and keeping her motorcycle safe will be difficult with this set up. Moving it into her trailer would be an option, but it’s be a pain the ass with moving it every day. There’s a decent chunk of land behind where her trailer sits, not enough for another to move in there, but enough to mark a pseudo backyard. 

Maybe she can build a shed or something? She’ll have to double check on the rules and what’s allowed. 

For now, Dahlia busies herself with moving her things into the trailer. She basically tosses her bags and luggage in, not bothering to properly unpack things. The biggest thing is moving Caroline’s meal into the fridge and freezer. Once everything is where it needs to be, she grabs a shower and changes her clothes. She’ll have to do some laundry when she gets a chance. 

Dahlia stretches her muscles as she steps back out of her trailer, the activity has picked up somewhat, more people milling about and having conversations about who knows what. She makes a mental list of the things she has to get done; checking about a shed, getting some groceries in, doing her laundry and probably some stuff she hasn’t even thought about yet.

She makes a beeline for the registration building, peering inside and seeing a man talking to Darcy. Taking her chances of a long wait; she steps inside and loiters behind the stranger. Darcy’s bright blues land on Dahlia and the man follows the gaze, it seems like everyone in the county has a set of pretty light eyes. All greens and blues from what she’s seen. The receptionist at the hotel, both deputies and Whitehorse, the dispatcher at the station, Mary May, Darcy, and even Ruth. She’s pretty sure the only other pair of brown eyes she’s seen since she’s been here was the guy who nearly pulled a gun on her.

“You need something, hon?”

“I don’t want to interrupt.”

“You’re fine, darlin’, we were just shooting the shit.” Pet names and light eyes seem to both be trends here.

“I was just wondering if I could build a shed behind my trailer, to keep my motorcycle locked up.”

“As long as you aren’t blocking anyone or anything, go for it.”

Dahlia gives a little thumbs up in acknowledgement and starts to make a bee line back out, time to find out where the hell to get supplies for a shed. The man starts to follow her out, quickly catching up to her as she’s making her way back to her trailer.

“If you’re looking to build something, there’s a nice hardware and carpentry store, they give you all the supplies and instructions. You just gotta put it together,” he finishes up as they reach her motorcycle.

“Sounds good, you got a number for them?”

“Yeah, I,” he looks at her motorcycle, “you got a way to haul it?”

“Nah, I’d have to rent a truck.”

“I got a pickup, if you order it, I can pick it up for you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m down there most days anyway, I’m Liam by the way.”

“I-”

“Nice bike,” another voice yells out, a guy with scraggly hair looking at Dahlia’s motorcycle, “it yours?”

“Hey, Clyde,” Liam greets him.

“Yeah, 2009 Yamaha FZ1; guy’s kid totaled it and I nearly rebuilt it from scratch.” She tells him, smiling at the memory of finding the wrecked bike in Lloyd’s garage.

The three talk for some time about the specs of her motorcycle and talking about the place Liam recommended. He gives her the number and after some relenting agrees to be paid for at least the gas money. After some time and Clyde rambling about the vintage motorcycle he had as a teenager, she manages to tear herself away from the conversation to make the call. She reserves the materials and Liam is planning on heading that way shortly.

That taken care of for now, she decides to get her laundry taken care of. She grabs her bag of dirty laundry out of her trailer and makes a beeline for the laundry half building. It’s a strange roofed in area with no doors. How they manage to maintain the machine is beyond her. Seems like a nightmare when bad weather hits.

She rattles out her coins and gets what she needs, cooking may evade her but she at the very least knows how to do her own laundry. Dahlia bends over to start shoving her clothes in, she’s struggling to find her other sock when she gets the sense she’s being watched, someone’s eyes trained on her backside. She tucks a lock of hair back behind her ear as she stands back up and turns around.

“Uh, ah…” The guy awkwardly stumbles back, not really forming any words as he avoids her eyes. He’s taller than her; as are most people. Other than children, she hasn’t found a single person in Hope County shorter than her.  

He scratches sheepishly at the back of his neck, why was he looking at her? 

"There something on my shorts?" She brushes a hand down the denim, searching for something. It wouldn't be the first time she's managed to sit in something gross. 

"Uh, shit, sorry I'm just a man, I can't help it."

"Okay…" That didn't really answer her question. Weird guy, she decides and focuses on going back to her laundry. 

"No harassing the new girl, Boshaw." Ruth comments as she walks in, laundry basket on her hip. 

“I wasn’t doing nothing.” He tries to defend himself and Dahlia is left even more confused.

“Don’t let him bug you, he doesn’t even live here. Boshaws are good for nothing but a party,” Ruth tells her, clapping a hand on Dahlia’s back. She just shakes her head, not worth dealing with.

By the time Dahlia finishes up her laundry the sound of a backfiring truck engine is making its way back into the trailer park. Liam with a truck bed filled with hardwood and all the stuff she needs for her shed.

“Me and Clyde will help you put it together, if you want.” Liam offers, him and Clyde already helping her unload the materials. 

“I mean it’d go quicker, if I had more hands,” Dahlia says, she doesn’t need the help necessarily and doesn’t want to be a bother, but she’d appreciate it anyway. 

“Where exactly do you want it?” 

“Just right back behind my trailer, let’s see.” 

The three of them move the supplies to where she needs the shed built, Dahlia’s taking a glance at the building instructions and when she looks back up, Liam and Clyde have managed to grab a radio and a pack of beer. It’s not even noon. 

“Want one?” Clyde offers her a can. 

“Nah, I’m under 21.”

“Pfff, never stopped anyone.” He shrugs before downing the can himself. Maybe as a cop she should give a shit about that statement, but the drinking age is dumb. Even if she feels obligated to listen to it due to her job, she can admit it’s stupid. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, sweetheart, where are you from?” 

“Louisiana.” 

“The hell you doing out here?”

“Moved for work, you two Hope County natives?” 

“Born and raised, wouldn’t trade it for the world.” 

“You guy’s got any recommendations of shit to do here?” 

She happily listens to them ramble about lady’s night at The Spread Eagle, O’Hara’s Haunted House being the best place for a scare, hiking trails in the Whitetail Mountains, the best fishing spots, the 8-bit Pizza Bar’s games, and raving about the burgers at The Grill Steak. The entire time they’re all working, laughing, and the pair of them throwing back beers. 

Sweat is coating Dahlia’s skin by the time they finish, and it feels nice to be able to stand back to look at what’s been accomplished. Put together with hard work and the help of her new neighbors.

“Hell yeah, we got that knocked out in no time,” Clyde boasts, holding his hand out for a high five that she gives right away.

“Here,” Liam tosses her the padlock he picked up for it, all packaged with it’s little key. She pushes her bike inside, already thinking of adding hooks and shelves, for her helmet and other odds and ends. She can really make something with it. She’s more excited to put work into her motorcycle’s home than her own trailer. Go figure.

She locks it up and hooks the key on her keychain. One more thing taken care of.

“I really appreciate it, you guys didn’t have to do this. Uh, I can’t cook for shit, but if you want I can buy you l-”

Engine revving again, better shape than Liam’s backfiring pickup, an old green one comes pulling into the trailer park. Dahlia’s eyes widen in surprise when she realizes who’s at the wheel, Sheriff Whitehorse. The tension of the trailer park draws tight, no more signs of the laughing easy going nature she was getting comfortable in. Liam, Clyde, and every trailer park resident as far as Dahlia can see are now staring daggers at the Sheriff.

No sign of peturbment, Whitehorse parks and hops out of the front seat of his truck, right next to Dahlia and her two new friends. He stops to grab something from the passenger side.

“The hell are you doing here?!” Clyde asks low and threatening.

“Came to see my new Junior Deputy, figured it’d be good for you to get your uniforms,” Whitehorse tells her, green deputy shirts in hand.

“Thanks, Sheriff.” She takes the uniforms from his hand, feeling those glares that were on Whitehorse being turned towards her.

“You...settling in alright, Rook?”

“Uh, yeah, I think…” She thought she was. But, now she has her doubts.

“That’s good, just wanted to check in on you.”

“I appreciate it, I was just about to buy them lunch, if you w-”

“We’re good,” Liam says, definitely with a gruff sound to his voice.

“Are you s-”

Liam and Clyde are already storming away, smiles and laughter drained from their faces and replaced with angry tension. What did she do? Why are they mad? She clenches her jaw and chews her bottom lip as she watches what she thought were her new friends walk off.

“Come on, I’ll buy you lunch, Rook.”  Whitehorse claps a large hand on her shoulder, warm and comforting during her confusion. He gently turns her towards the passenger side of his truck, and she climbs in, fiddling with the uniforms in her lap; the Hope County Sheriff’s Department patch rough against her fingers.

The engine revs to life as Whitehorse climbs in, the radio humming out a country song. She hates not at least knowing what she did wrong. 

“Not gonna lie, when I heard you moved into The Moonflower, I got worried about ya Rook.”

“Why’s that?”

“Hmm, it’s where a lot of the more...suspicious citizens of Hope County live. They don’t have a lot of respect for cops, none actually. More likely to call you a pig than eat lunch with you. Not bad people, but they don’t have any love for law enforcement.”

“So...I’m a cop who just moved into a trailer park of criminals is what you're telling me.”

“Basically.”

“And thanks to you, they all for sure know I’m a cop now.”

“Would have found out when you had to arrest one of ‘em, this seemed a bit better.”

It’s stupid to be upset, she knows that it’s stupid to be upset about losing people she’s known all of five hours. But it felt nice to be welcomed with such open arms and to know that’s already gone to shit. She focuses on her uniforms in her lap because it’s easier than dealing with the lump in her throat and the churn of her stomach. No name tag or badge on her uniforms.

“Where’s my name tag and badge?”

“We’re a small operation, Rook. We’re not investing in patches and a badge until we know you’re staying in for the long haul.” 

“I also found out about your junior deputy crap, I’m not a kid in high school.” 

“Not far off from it.”

He’s looking off across the road to make sure it’s safe to turn, so she uses the moment of him looking away to stick her tongue out at him. Does it make her look any more mature? No. Does she care? No. 

“Caught that, Rookie.” 

“No, you didn’t.” 

“Yes, I did.” 

“Sounds fake.” 

They pull into the parking lot of Aubrey’s Diner, a big restaurant with a pink roof. Whitehorse brings the truck into park, Dahlia tucks the uniforms into the backseat before hopping out of the truck. The sheriff squeezes her shoulder as they walk into the restaurant, as much as he likes teasing her, he seems keen on trying to comfort her. Maybe he just feels sorry for her and her shitty luck. 

“Hey, my name is Cassie, I’ll be your waitress today. Can you take a seat, right over here.” A young girl, probably around Dahlia’s age with long black hair helps show them to a booth. Whitehorse takes his hat off as he sits down. 

“Can I get you two anything to drink?” The waitress hands them menus, there’s a mess of bruises across her forearm. Mixes of blues, purples, and some more faded greens. The indents of fingerprints on her skin. 

“A black coffee, please.” 

“Uh, whatever soda you have is fine, what happened to your arm?” 

The girl’s eyes go wide, reminiscent of a deer in the headlights. She gives an awkward tight smile and pushes a lock of hair back behind her ear. 

“Oh, I was just horsing around with my four wheeler, nothing major. I’ll go get your drinks, right away.” 

“You worry about everyone, don’t you?” 

“You don’t get bruises like that from a four-wheeler.” 

“You gonna do something about it?” 

“Sure as shit gonna try,” she manages to catch the smile on Whitehorse’s face before she looks at the menu, “now, if you’re paying, what’s the limit?” 

“Get whatever you want.” 

“Do you actually mean that? Or are you trying to be nice, ‘cause I can and will eat you out of house and home if you let me.” 

He laughs a little; a dry chuckle, like the idea of her being able to eat that much is ridiculous. She should try to go somewhat easy on him, first impressions or something. She’ll settle on a stack of pancakes and a double burger and fries. 

There are a few people in the diner and when Cassie returns, Dahlia decides now isn’t the time. She doesn’t want to embarrass or make her uncomfortable. Even she has a smidge more tact than that.  Cassie takes their orders and Dahlia feels Whitehorse staring at her. 

“You gonna gorge yourself to make a point?” 

“Pfff, this ain’t nothing to me,” Dahlia tells him with a shrug, drinking her soda, an awkward beat of silence following. 

“You know, it you may not have picked a great place to settle in, but I think you’re gonna like it here, Rook.”

“I’m hoping.” 

“A lot of people aren’t gonna like you. Aren’t gonna like your job, or what you have to do. You can’t let it get you down. The people here are good, most of ‘em will take you in with open arms.” 

“They literally turned their backs on me, like physically looked at me in disgust and turned around,” Cassie brings their food back out, “thanks.” 

“You know why I took a chance on you?” 

“’Cause of the robbery thing?’ She asks as she begins dumping syrup on her peach pancakes before shoving a forkful in her mouth.  

“I was gonna give you the probie position before that.” 

“What!?” She slurs out around the food in her mouth. 

“Well, yeah,” his blue eyes are soft, and he reminds her of Lloyd more than he ever has before, “you’re good people, Rook. And I’m not gonna be the only person who sees that. Anyone’d be damn lucky to have you in their corner.” 

She swallows her mouthful of food, chewing the inside of her cheek as she weighs his words in her mind. Her heart is lighter, it’s nice knowing her new boss is rooting for her, sees something in her that’s worth seeing. 

“That, uh, it means a lot,” this is too serious, “so, if you already knew you were gonna give me a shot before the interview ended, why the fuck did you wait until after to tell me?” 

“Wouldn’t be any fun if I didn’t make you sweat at least a little.” 

“I thought I fucked it all up!” 

“Can’t be a cop if you don’t have a good poker face.” 

“Its too good, I hate it.” 

“Well, if you hate that, you’re gonna really hate this.”

“...and what would ‘this’ be?” 

“You’ll be with Pratt on patrol.”

“What!?” She groans out, thinking about that smug asshole’s face.

“Pratt wasn’t too excited either, but I’m sure you two will manage.” 

“Why can’t I work with Hudson?” Dahlia asks, though her voice catches strangely when she thinks about her. Heat prickling up under her skin. Whitehorse sighs as he leans back in the booth. 

“I don’t want this to sound bad. You and Hudson are both perfectly capable officers. But I don’t like having two women officers partnered. I know it’s not right, but around here; perps will think they can push you around ‘cause you’re a woman. They’ll assume you’re soft. It’s not right, but it happens. I don’t want to put you in a bad situation right out of the gate, working with Pratt will make it easier on you.” 

“That’s garbage, you may mean well, but it’s garbage.”

“There’s another reason too,” Whitehorse tells her with lopsided grin. 

“And what’s that?”

“Rook, you could barely even talk to Hudson. I partner you with her and you’ll be a disaster.”

“What are you talking about? I talked to Hudson just fine.” 

“You were bright red and stuttering; blind man could see your little crush.” 

“Crush…?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow, like...feelings… That’s what everyone has been trying to say. 

“Jesus criminy, that’s a whole new can of worms. You know what a crush is?” 

“Yes, I know what a crush is, I just...never had one...I don’t think.” 

“You feel like you’re burning up and gonna puke when you see her?” 

“Maybe…”

“Like your heart is gonna explode out of your chest.” 

“Uhhhh…”

“That’s a crush, Rook.” 

She doesn’t even know Hudson, how the hell can she have a crush on her? You can’t have feelings for someone you don’t hardly know. She’s pretty though. Maybe it’s just physical attraction? Has she ever been even physically attracted to someone before?

“My head hurts.” 

“I’m starting to think you’re even worse than taking on a high school kid.” 

“Look, I don’t mess with that crap okay, I’ve never...ugh, can we move on?” 

They’ve finished their food before they know it, Whitehorse just shaking his head at how easily she managed to gobble up all of the food she got. Dahlia grabs a napkin, doing her best to write down her phone number with it being actually legible. Her hand aches from the effort but it’s easy to read. 

Cassie gives the bill and Whitehorse leaves a tip for her, once the young waitress starts to walk away, Dahlia excuses herself to go smoke. Though, she suspects the sheriff knows her actual intentions. 

“Hey, Cassie,” Dahlia calls out and stops the waitress when she gets to a relatively secluded portion of the restaurant. 

“Is there something else you need?” 

“How old are you?” 

“Uhh, 18, why?” 

Not much younger, but she’s an adult, even a year younger this conversation would be a lot different. 

“I can’t force or do much, unless you ask for it. But, I’m the new deputy with the station. I’m not saying for sure something is wrong, but if you need help, I want you to give me a call, alright?” 

‘Um...thanks…” The girl awkwardly accepts the napkin before darting away and Dahlia clenches her jaw, knowing the chances of that call ever coming are slim. But at least she’s made an effort and if nothing else Cassie knows she has options. More than anyone ever did for her. 

Maybe, she’ll go ahead and step outside for a smoke anyway. 

She steps out and finds herself at the side of the building, where she lights up her cigarette. Dahlia fiddles with the edge of her thigh high socks as she takes a deep drag. She exhales a heavy cloud of smoke that drifts up through the sky, the afternoon sun rays beating down on her. 

Among the trees something moves, a rustling of grass and brush followed by footsteps. Dahlia’s heart sinks when she sees her emerge. The girl from the hotel, the siren is walking down a grassy pathway. Her dress is a little different, no less white or lacy, but the sleeves are shorter and it comes off her shoulders, a white flower adorning her sandy colored hair. There’s a light grace to the way she walks, as if she’s on her own personal cloud floating along. She holds a book close to her chest. 

Why is she seeing her again? Are her eyes playing tricks on her again?

Dahlia is moving without another thought, the siren’s call working it’s magic to draw her in again. 

She expects the girl to vanish again, to fade into mist the second Dahlia gets too close, just as she had done time and time again that night. The second she grabs the woman’s shoulder, she’ll be gone. If the junior deputy even gets that close without the spectre fading away. 

The heat of real flesh under her hand sends her spiraling back to reality. The girl jolting and staring at Dahlia with wide green eyes, scared and surprised at the grasp of a stranger. An expression unlike any seen in Dahlia’s hallucinations. She’s human, flesh and real, an actual person standing before her whom Dahlia just grabbed like a maniac. The panicky yells of others flood her ears. There are other people, a group of five or so people glaring daggers at Dahlia. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” One of them yells, obviously ready to fight and Dahlia rips her hand off of the girl like she’s been scalded. What is she doing? 

“I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry,” Dahlia gushes out a mess of apologies, “I, uh, thought I knew you from somewhere. I’m sorry, I just, sorry.” 

“No, no need for sorries,” she’s speaking actual words for the first time, voice soft and melodic as she gently brings Dahlia’s hand into her own to intertwine their fingers, “you’re here for a reason, what’s your name?” 

“Oh, uh, I-” 

“Rookie, you ready to head out?” Whitehorse yells out from the diner, eyes narrowing a bit when he sees Dahlia with the strange woman. 

“I gotta get going, again, I’m sorry, I, bye.” Dahlia’s off like a shot, ripping her hand from the woman’s and running back towards Whitehorse; desperate to escape the awkwardness. 

She still feels those green eyes watching her as she jumps up into Whitehorse’s pickup. Dahlia settles into the passenger seat with a residual chill in her spine, she can’t put into words but something about this girl and the whole thing feels strange. The engine revs to life and the radio starts to play. 

“You know that girl, Rook?”

“I thought I recognized her but, no.” 

“You probably shouldn’t buddy up too close to the Seeds.”

“Why’s that?” 

“They’re not too dangerous, they run a little religious group around the county, but they keep finding themselves in trouble lately it seems.” 

“Reli- are they those Eve, Ed-” 

“Project at Eden’s Gate, everyone calls ‘em peggies. They’re usually pretty harmless, but they always seem to be getting into hot water with the locals. Two of ‘em were the ones robbing The Spread Eagle that day you interviewed.” 

“That doesn’t sound too harmless to me.” 

“Stuff like that is rare, you just managed to land here at the right time.” 

“Eh, I just know that I kept seeing random crap of theirs, from pamphlets to a book, and apparently that big freaking statue.” She glares at where she sees it over the horizon, the giant hunk of useless cement. 

“Yeah, Joseph Seed is a real piece of work.” 

“Wait, like, you’ve met him?” 

“He’s had some run ins with us.” 

“He’s like a currently living human being?” 

“Last time I checked.” 

“I, what the fuck, I thought he was like their old founder who died or something. You know from like the 1800’s or something. How far up your own ass do you have to be to have people build a statue of you? Ugh.” 

Whitehorse laughs at her discomfort; she was here thinking he must have been some old founder who died a hundred years ago and it’s just some creepy man bun guy probably off somewhere being weird right now. 

“You in a hurry to get home?” The sheriff asks her. 

“Not particularly.” She needs to get groceries and stuff, but she has Caroline’s made up meals and she has water to her trailer, so she can make do and go shopping tomorrow. 

“We’ll take the scenic route then, show you around.” 

Whitehorse drives her around the Henbane river area, pointing out different places and structures that seem worth noting. The Dire Wolf Basin, Lydia’s Cave, Mastodon Geothermal Park, Dead Man’s Mill, and every place that has a name it seems. He prattles on something about each place, where they get their names, history. And she can feel her eyelids getting heavier with every syllable.  They pass by the Drubman Marina, a dock and buildings, a pink helicopter landed there and boats on the sparkling clear water. The sun is starting to sink down and turn the sky into a mess of oranges and purples. His low accented voice rambles on about someone who owns it, divorce, real estate; it’s all a blur as she’s leaning against the door and her eyes finally shut completely. 

 “Rook, wake up,” Whitehorse is calling out and gently shaking her awake. She blinks a few times, clearing the sleep from her eyes. A glance at the radio clock tells her about two hours has passed. They’re parked back in front of the trailer park. He was talking and she fell asleep; not the greatest first impression to have on her boss the day before she starts working.

He doesn’t seem upset though, just smiling and laughing at her.

“You know, I was trying to help get your mind off shit, didn’t mean to do by boring you, but whatever works, I guess.”

“Sorry, I, uh guess, I was still tired from traveling, that’s a lie, I don’t know why I’m trying to lie. I just got bored and passed out.”

Whitehorse chuckles; at least he seems to find her amusing, that might help keep her around for a while.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Rookie, try to take it easy tonight,” she starts to unbuckle her seat belt, “and don’t forget your uniforms.”

“Thanks.” She grabs her uniform shirts out of the backseat and clambers out of the rusted green pickup.

Dahlia hears the trailer park before she steps past the sign. Whoops and hollers, the sound of a radio blasting. Behind her she hears Whitehorse’s truck pulling away and she feels alone again. No matter what it seems like she can’t seem to ever escape that.

In the center of the trailer park, near the playground area is a bonfire. Faces of people she’s seen in her short time here and ones she hasn’t met yet mingle around, laughing, hollering, and downing beers. The smell of food cooking over grills hits her nose, her never filled stomach growling despite herself. No one has noticed her yet. Caught up in the festivities. She adjusts the grip on her uniforms and kicks the toe of her boot into the dirt, she wants to be included. It’s childish, wanting so badly to just be invited. But she can’t help it. She doesn’t want to believe that people she seemed to fit in well with would throw her away because she’s a cop.

“You got a problem?” Clyde suddenly speaks up, noticing her through the party. His voice is low and his eyes narrowed, like he’s ready for a fight.

“Not particularly.” She shrugs.

“Then why don’t you go ahead and get out of here, Johnny Law.”

“I mean, I’ll go to my trailer…”

“Be better off if you just get out altogether,” Liam tells her.

“I paid to move in here like everyone else, you can’t kick me out.” Dahlia looks to Darcy, the only one here she sees that actually works for the trailer park and decided to rent to her.  The girl chews her lip and avoids eye contact, running a hand through her short hair.

“I mean, yeah, as long as you pay you can stay, but I doubt you’ll be too happy here...You should, uh, try to find something else.”

“And the sooner the better, we don’t need fuckin’ narcs moving in on us.”

“I don’t work in narcotics.”

“Do I look like I give a damn what division you work for, a pig’s a pig!”

Dahlia clenches her jaw at Clyde’s yells, the way everyone around him is grinning, supporting him. This was one of the only options, besides an expensive apartment in Falls End or just waiting for the Silver Lake Trailer Park to have something available. She just rolls her eyes, trying not to betray the ache in her heart. 

“This conversation is pointless.” She shakes her head and heads towards her trailer.

“Can’t believe we helped out a fuckin’ cop,” Liam grumbles as she turns her back on the party.

Then something pelts the back of her head, the stench of beer coating her hair as it splashes out of the nearly empty can that’s bounced off her skull.

She bites her lip, she could be an asshole, technically this can be classified as battery. And a little angry gremlin in the back of her brain wants her to teach them a lesson as they laugh at her, cackling like hyenas. 

But it was just a can of beer, basically empty. She’s an adult. She doesn’t need to waste time or energy on this. At least that’s what she tells herself when she keeps her head down and makes her way to the trailer.

Her door does little to filter out the sound of the party. The music and excitement reverberates through the thin walls of her trailer.

Young blood, come to start a riot.

Don’t care what your old man say.

She tosses her uniforms on the couch, not really caring where they fall. The stench of beer is still sticking to her skin. She peels off her jacket and digs out her phone, syncing it to her speaker, might as well blast her own music in return.

Young blood, heaven hate a sinner.

I felt a break in a sacred place where your hands don’t heal.

But we gonna raise hell anyway.

These are the reasons you’re ruled by the things you feel.

The music mingles and mashes in awkward ways. The upbeat country rock and slow drag of indie music meshing into a cacophony of noise. Somewhere between a yell and a sing, she belts lyrics out, sometimes her music, sometimes theirs.

Raise hell, yeah

Out of the deep waters and all their intricacies.

Somebody gotta, gotta raise a little hell

This is the real face of all your enemies.

This isn’t unfamiliar. The ache of loneliness and feeling like she doesn’t belong. There are lots of reasons for it. No matter where she goes, there never seems to be a place for her. She can’t even blame them. Even if they’re open and welcoming, she knows that feeling will creep up again.

Baby, drop them bones.

I felt you escape into empty space where my heart can’t feel

Baby, sell that soul

Down in that darkness, you met all the things you feared

Lloyd and Caroline were the most welcoming people she’s ever encountered, yet that feeling still reared its ugly head. Those doubts of being a burden, a bother, that she’s intruding on their space. A leech of their time and energy.

The party rages on outside, everyone far happier without her around, as she lights a cigarette up in her trailer.

And I knew, I knew..

Baby, fare thee well

There was nothing I could do...

[scruffy-scribbles]

THEY’RE HERE~

Introducing Scruff’s official 2020 Pride-Otter sticker~ We’re all in this together!

PRE-ORDER HERE: https://forms.gle/VyfUEmrPdUPEmumZ8

This is a 3 inch diameter vinyl sticker, adorned with seven Pride-Flag themed otters; The otters are: LGBT; Bisexual; Lesbian; Asexual; Non-binary; Genderfluid; and Trangender.  This sticker is a circle so that you can display it in any orientation! 

Stickers are $4 USD each!

Shipping is Free!

Fill out the pre-order form to get in on the action: https://forms.gle/VyfUEmrPdUPEmumZ8

Preorders are open until March 30th!

F.A.Q:

What’s a Pride Otter?  Last year I took 15 LGBT+ Pride Flags and designed Otters based on them~ You can find all of the designs here: https://scruffy-scribbles.tumblr.com/tagged/prideotters

How much is shipping? Order before March 30th and shipping is FREE!

Do you ship to...? YES! Pride Otter Stickers ship worldwide! 

When will I get an invoice? You have 2 options for invoicing: 

Pay NOW and receive an invoice within 24 hours. This will help us better judge how close we are to stretch goals and may even allow us to print the stickers before April 1st! If we get the stickers early and you have selected Pay NOW, your stickers will be shipped to you as soon as they arrive! 

Pay LATER and you will receive an invoice March 30th or April 1st. Want stickers, but now’s not a good time? This is the perfect option for you!! If we get the stickers early and you have selected Pay LATER, your stickers will be shipped once your invoice has been paid.

When will I get my stickers? Mid April to Early May! Once invoices have been paid, I will order the stickers! It will take 5-10 days for me to receive the stickers; at which point I will begin stuffing envelopes and mailing them off to you. Estimated arrival 4 weeks from postage date. 

Do you accept…? Paypal invoices can be paid from your paypal account, or with most major credit cards! For those in Canada, I can also accept interac e-transfers! 

I do not accept Venmo at this time. 

Why did you make this? This year our local community is putting on a Pride Festival, alongside our usual Pride Parade, and I really wanted to make stickers for it! If I can order enough of them, I plan to have these stickers available at the Pride Festival in July!

What are you going to do with the money? Put more Pride Otters into the world! We have 2 stretch goals: Buttons (at 100 sales) and Holographic Stickers (at 200 sales)

Why didn’t you include my flag? I attempted to choose 7 flags that represented a spectrum of the LGBTQIA+ experience. But these aren’t the only Pride Otters~  Perhaps you would be more interested in a Pride Otter BUTTON?

If we can sell 10 Pride Otter stickers, we can unlock 1-⅕ inch pinback buttons~ There are 16 designs to choose from; 15 flag designs with room for pronouns- or you could wear the sticker as a button! 

REMEMBER:

Pre-orders CLOSE March 30th. 

Pre-order a Pride-Otter sticker and get FREE SHIPPING!

We’re all in this together~

You will still be able to order Pride Stickers past March 30th for $4 USD plus shipping. 

Pre-Order your Pride Otters here: https://forms.gle/VyfUEmrPdUPEmumZ8

[fadinginfluencerblaze]

Patreon Support Rewards!

I have been on Patreon for a while now. Devising illustrated shorts and comics that will make your heart beat like a speaker!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TorZwoajwxQ 

https://www.patreon.com/AdventVoice

I am more than excited to share a lot of my recent works, “APT: 1012,” will be a short 5 page sequence denouncing the ever oppressive rape culture that has been plaguing our ever advancing global community. I don’t think I could ever write enough about my contempt for it. Until things change and these stories don’t cross my door step, I will continue to feel obligated to do something about it.

  Well all artists desire their works to be seen and appreciated. Most of us have stories to share and laughs to give. For me the stories never stop rolling and the laughs are always a surprise, even to me.

I have had my patreon account for a few months now and I have supported a few and there are many on my list to continue to support or start supporting. My wish list does not include new applications or better software, it includes having enough money to give away to others. Strange I know. In the future I plan on giving a real in-depth discussion as to why past recessions have made me so charitable. Thing is, if I don't make any money, then I can't give it away to artists I have come to appreciate, and to be truthful I have found that in this guild, we have to put a little away to be helpful in the future. As I watch the news and read the Economists journals or just surf twitter, I know we are in for a big surprise soon and the starving artist is going to be having to dig in real deep from his boot straps to keep this franchise alive.

TIERS Graphic Shorts$1 or more per Tales of a Travler

You have an idea for an original character and would like them to do more than fill up a page or stand in pretty poses, contact me through my email cag3lefant@aol.com and I can assist you in dynamic illustrations, story boards and crafting real graphic fun, for the whole family. I pride myself in the belief of being able to draw anything.

Includes Discord rewards

Digital Illustrations$5 or more per Tales of a Travler

Present to me what you desire to see, and true to my craft of being able to 'dream weave,' I would certainly supply you with a dream you can add to your collection of wall art.

These images can be used memorabilia of your favorite musical band, animated cartoon, animals, fantasy creature, stickers for coffee mugs, or vinyl covers for albums of music, posters to decorate your rooms with white washed walls.

We don't like white-washed walls, where I am from!

Includes Discord rewards

Portrait's Nothing but Head Shots$10 or more per Tales of a Travler

THE SONGS ON THE RADIO ARE OK,

BUT MY TASTE IN MUSIC IS YOUR FACE!

For $10 membership fees I will draw your portrait and add you as a feature with your own promotions and story connected with avproductionsblog.wordpress.co… and how your contributions are being used to empower artists internationally.

-Digital Portraits

-Traditional Portraits

-Side Views

-Full Bust

I can't think of a better way for people to get to know you than to fall in love with your face.

Why not be drawn by a professional today?!

JOIN $10 TIER

Well I hope you all can join me and help me create some massive stories!

I think if I can get my portfolio filled I can devise a hard copy book to sell to those interested in New Art and illustration styles. The history behind them and how they can be improved.

I have pitched this idea around for a while and I have had a few takers. I want to add my Dream Weaver series in the volume but I want others to bring their own series about interpersonal ideas of "Freedom," what it means to them and there illustrations of the idea of "Liberty." Place it in a volume and pile our names in the back so others can find us and commission us for more work.

www.newgrounds.com/art/view/ad…

Liberty is a very important concept to me and has been a theme I have fallen back on for a while. Half of my motivation is to put a number on how many others feel as I do and what kind of art do they devise when they have the time to think about it.

[jimdeco458]

-58°

Why is it so difficult these past 14 years, to reach the people with the authority to do something that might serve the public-good. I have tried to reach professors, scientists, governors, senators, reporters and weathermen without any success to speak of. I’m talking about Irma, Wilma and Andrew, hurricanes that is–to name a few. Call me 🐷 headed but I don’t know why the government and the scientific community isn’t doing something to mitigate or attenuate the force of these storms. Like they say, we all talk about the weather but we don’t do anything about it. The problem is that anyone who thinks he can change the weather is going to be viewed with a certain amount of suspicion. Well here I am.

The title of this blog is -58, i.e. the minus 58 meridian of the North Atlantic. This is arguably the region of one thousand square miles where a given hurricane eye would be spoiled as to weaken it’s strength. Five destroyer class ships, each covering a manageable 200 miles would pump 💧 from the thermocline to reduce the 💧 temperature and in so doing spoil the system that is producing the storm. I would like to think that many people could come up with other crazy schemes such as this. Would it work? Could it? What with the death and destruction that these storms bring, you would expect a greater effort to study remediation. Governments and universities spend a half a billion dollars a year on various unrelated  research. Could this hypothesis be simulated in a lab?

What do you think?

=============================================================

How did you become an illustrator? How did you start your blog?

I have always 💛 making comics, but I started to really feel inspired to become an illustrator through the support of close friends and family. My parents aren’t/weren’t very supportive growing up, and only after leaving my home was I able to really explore the field. I originally started the blog to archive my ideas and little doodles, and soon started to get a bit of a following!

How has Tumblr allowed you to explore your identity?

Through Tumblr, I was able to connect with people who expressed their gender and identity in a way I had never seen in person. I was able to 👀 myself and my identity more clearly, and felt more comfortable experimenting with labels and pronouns. I came out online before I came out in real life, and I think the boost I got from the community helped me build the courage to come out. My parents do not support my identity, and I have had a lot of difficulty in being kicked out of my home. But, with some folks I connected with through Tumblr and trans siblings in real life, I felt more supported and could start my life again from the ground up.

What has been your biggest accomplishment as an artist?

I’m not very far in my career as an artist, as I’m still pretty young and just starting out. But, I think getting into college to study art was a big step. My previous plan for my future was to be an engineer, which I would have hated. After I left home, I learned that I didn’t get accepted into the college I was planning on going to for many years. After many months, I was able to find a college with a good art program in my area. It was a big leap for me, because my parents never supported art careers for any of their kids. To be able to change my career path to something I really enjoy, and to go to college for it is an amazing feeling.

How can we continue to support trans artists?

Reblog their art! While likes are appreciated, reblogs spread their art across the platform, and help them gain some popularity and more opportunities. I also enjoy getting nice comments on my art through my asks and in the replies! If the artists have merchandise or do commissions, consider supporting them by taking part in them (or at least boost their posts about things that can help them make 💰).

With this being the 50th Anniversary of the Stonewall rebellion, what does Pride mean to you?

The 💛 that I have seen in the LGBTQ+ community is unparalleled. In most spaces, I feel like my existence is mostly just tolerated or tokenized. It’s only been within the community that I not only feel like my identity is tolerated or noticed, but celebrated! I recently have been able to surround myself with members of the community, and I’ve never felt more respected and 💛 in my life. Pride keeps this community alive and thriving, and that means so much to me.

You have such great resileince, Elliot. You’re going to be a great illustrator and comic artist. We’re 🙌 for you. Tumblr, who are some other LGBTQIA+ artists we should know about? Use the #tumblrpride to share.

This interview has been condensed for clarity.

Photo Credit: Naima Green

Pictured/Pronouns: Van (he, they) Chino (he, him) Nina (she, her) Ryann (they/them)

Not pictured/pronouns: Mo (she, they)

Pride Spotlight: bklyn boihood

Hey Tumblr! During the entire month for Pride 2019, we’ll be highlighting some amazing groups and individuals who are creating dope spaces for the LGBTQIA+ community. First up @bklynboihood​, bklyn boihood is a collective that seeks to create spaces for queer and trans bois* of color in 🗽. Let’s jump right in.

Your mission is to create spaces for Black and brown queer and trans bois* to cultivate stories, dreams and creative work. Why are these spaces so important? Why aren’t we 👀 them more often?

Our mission is centered on black and queer bois*. At a time, there were very few spaces that celebrated boihood in all of the manifestations we witnessed on a day-to-day basis. As we continue to understand how lack of visual representation impacts mental health, we know it’s critical to 🙌 black and queer bois because mainstream media has failed to do so. Mainstream media is a part of a larger institution, and any institution as we know has deep ties to white supremacy. We don’t 👀 more dynamic platforms for black queer bois simply because white supremacy is a tool for eraser and that pervasive violence exists in all institutions.

Black and brown queer and trans folks created the LGBTQIA+ culture that we know today. That is #BlackExcellence365. Unfortunately we’re not 👀 the right representation. How can we change that?

Power must be shifted. Do you have black queer and trans bois within your organization? Are they decision makers? If you’re a funder, are you using your platform to funnel fiscal support to organizations that center queer and trans black bois? Representation comes at a cost, often emotional labor, that in which we do not have the capacity to hold. So, are you leveraging power to hold the multiple and complex identities in which you wish to include? Inclusivity is never enough. Liberation is beyond inclusion. In order for us to to be free we must dismantle and center those are most at risk of being erased.

This year marks the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots. People forget that it was Black and brown queer homeless youths who started this movement. How can we continue to honor them?

Honor them with your platforms, honor them with your funding, honor them by including them in the decision-making regarding their own representation, honor them beyond mere symbolism and move in solidarity by dismantling systems that wish to keep them out.

Thank you bklyn boihood for all the work you do work for the community. Tumblr, how are you supporting organizations during Pride 2019? Use the #tumblrpride to share.

This interview has been condensed for clarity

Happy Pride 2019, Tumblr!

There are so many ways to 🙌 this beautiful month! Pride parades and festivals and marches will take place all over the U.S. to elevate our LGBTQIA+ selves, friends, and family. Your Tumblr dashboards deserve to feel just as commemorative, so all month long we’re going to be highlighting amazing LGBTQIA+ Tumblrs for you to follow.

As we 🙌, we also want to remember the serious event from which Pride has evolved. This month marks the 50th anniversary of the beginning of the Stonewall Riots, a series of political protests that began at The Stonewall Inn in 🗽. Young Black and brown LGBTQIA+ people—particularly trans POC—were the first to stand up and protest against the police brutality and inhumane treatment of people within their community. They deserve to be remembered, respected, and honored.

And so, this year, our theme is “Educate. Advocate. 🙌.” We’re sharing resources and information about the LGBTQIA+ community to help educate those who are not as knowledgeable about the history of the community. We’re advocating for the community by providing links to helpful resources, small businesses owned by LGBTQIA+ folks, and non-profits to support. And, of course, we want you to 🙌 who you are. Through that, we’ll be spotlighting non-profit organizations, LGBTQIA+ artists on Tumblr, and more throughout the month right here on @action. There are so many wonderful LGBTQIA+ Tumblrs out there, and we want to continue to support and uplift them.

There’s also a little bit of fun added across the platform. 👀 the Tumblr “T” up at the top on the left on desktop web? Hover your 🐁 and 👀 it cycle through different LGBTQIA+ flag colors, including the traditional LGBTQ+ 🌈 flag, trans flag, non-binary flag, genderqueer flag, lesbian flag, POC LGBTQ+ flag and more. Using the app? Open up the sticker drawer and find some of those Pride flag in sticker form to use however you 👀 fit.

We want to know how and who you’re educating, advocating, and 🥂 this month. Is it you? Your parents? Your best friend? Is there a small business owner we should know about? Make a post about ‘em! Make sure to tag your post with #Tumblr Pride so the whole community can find it.

Stay safe and stay kind, Tumblr. ❤️

As the San Francisco rock scene grew in the 1960s, posters were commissioned by the concert promoter Bill Graham for shows at popular venues such as the Fillmore Auditorium. David Singer produced more posters for Graham than any other artist, designing 75 posters from 1969 to 1990.[1] Although he had an unusual background for a psychedelic poster artist—a childhood spent in rural Pennsylvania, a stint in the Navy, and marketing work for companies in the Financial District of San Francisco—he went on to take his place alongside giants of the genre such as Wes Wilson and Victor Moscoso.

Singer’s most formative influences came from his family, particularly his adoptive mother, Dorothy, who went to art school and hung her paintings around the 🏠. Another important influence was his great aunt Flossy, who kept scrapbooks that left a strong impression on Singer, who remembers flipping through pages of pictures arranged thematically, including double-page spreads of cats and dogs. Singer soon became a “magazine freak,” frantically cutting pictures from magazines and creating collages that he later referred to as “visual poems.”[2] After showing a portfolio containing his best collage work to Graham in 1969, he was immediately commissioned for a series of concert posters.

Although this poster for the Fillmore West’s closing week in 1971 was actually printed after the week of shows ended, it is considered one of Singer’s masterpieces. A strange scene appears in 🆒 blue and black in the center of the composition—a 🐈 dancing on a 💤 🐶 below a grainy photograph of Saturn, with a haunting pair of feline eyes in the background. ✋-lettered, curvilinear text appears above and below the central collage, providing details about the week, including the names of 17 different bands. At left and right, swirling, bird-like shapes appear, mirroring the curving forms in the elaborate bedspread design underneath the 🐶 and the white streak down the center of the slumbering canine’s face.

Although lacking the bright, intense colors and intertwining of text and image typically found in other psychedelic posters, Singer’s design is similarly liberated from the traditional restrictions of advertising and induces a reflective process. The viewer is encouraged to spend time deciphering the fluid, dynamic letters and comprehending the bizarre imagery. Although the poster evokes the hallucinatory experience that often accompanied psychedelic light shows and rock 🎶, the experience becomes part of a larger philosophical questioning about the universe and the nature of reality. The 🐈—a familiar, domestic creature—takes on a spiritual, cosmic dimension, arousing slight laughter but also becoming an enduring and poetic symbol of the ineffable.

Carey Gibbons is a Cataloguer in the Drawings, Prints & Graphic Design Department at Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum.

[1] “About David Singer,” accessed April 15, 2019, http://bit.ly/2ICUuBg.

[2] Ben Marks, “How a Small-Town Navy Vet Created Rock’s Most Iconic Surrealist Posters,” Collectors Weekly, March 28, 2019, http://bit.ly/2GwOEjH.

“I 👀 that addiction generally has 2 state of minds and neither is better than the other. I wanted to indicate the possibility of escaping this mind of maze. It may be a difficult path, but to face the problems and be in ✌️ with them is a good start.” Yagmur Altan (@yagmur-altan), artist

Hey Tumblr,

As we near the end of Mental Health Month, we’d like to share one last post. As you know, we’ve been sharing stories, resources, and facts over on @postitforward to help dissolve the stigma surrounding mental health struggles. Our last post for MHM is all about addiction. If you’re interested in reading it, check it out over here.

Wanna share your story, too? Use the tag #postitforward to share how you cope with addiction. You might just help someone who needs to hear it

“Living with anxiety isn’t just a psychological strain, it affects us physically too. The sense of being on edge all the time weighed on me and gave me the impression that things were never letting up or improving“— Adrian Smith (@adrian3d), artist

Hey Tumblr,

As you know, the month of May doubles as Mental Health Month. All month long, we’ve been sharing stories, resources, and facts over on @postitforward to help dissolve the stigma surrounding mental health struggles. One of our most recent posts for MHM is all about anxiety. If you’re interested in reading it, check it out over here.

Wanna share your story,  too? Use the tag #postitforward to share how you cope with anxiety. You might just help someone who needs to hear it.

The murals of Dimitris Taxis recall his experience in both comics and cinematography. 👀 more of his recent creations here.

Dear Cecilia Chung,

You have spent decades fighting for rights and protections for transgender people and people living with HIV/AIDS. You are an inspiration for younger generations of trans activists. You are tough as nails and a tireless advocate for marginalized communities. This 💌 is dedicated to you, Cecilia, in gratitude for all of your work.

As a young Asian American trans person, I struggled to find role models. So often in mainstream media, trans women and trans women of color, in particular, are portrayed as victims, jokes, or evil doers. I was hungry for positive representations of who trans people could be: leaders, survivors, unapologetically out and proud advocates.

I just wanted proof that Asian American trans people have been here. That we’ve been here the whole time. That we’ve been killing the game and shaping history. I’m grateful that, in you, I have found this magnificent representation.

After coming out as trans, you experienced job discrimination, violence, and homelessness. As an Asian immigrant trans woman with HIV, you have witnessed first-✋ how transphobia and HIV stigma keep people at the margins. You’ve taken these dehumanizing experiences and transformed them into fuel for human and civil rights work.

Keep reading

Endormie (😴) Samuel Melton Fisher, 1902

Pictured: Students protesting. Photography courtesy of the Asian American Federation

APAHM Spotlight: Asian American Federation

As part of Asian Pacific American Heritage Month, we’re highlighting some amazing organizations that are positively impacting the community. Asian American Federation is a pan-Asian nonprofit leadership organization that represents and supports a network of 70 Asian American community service organizations in 🗽. They’re focusing on mental health needs in the Asian American community, as a whole, as it’s been affecting a lot of people in the community. We sat down with Deputy Director Joo Han.

The Asian/Pacific Islander community is not monolithic. What are some common misconceptions about this ethnic group?

The Asian American community comprises 16 ethnic groups (including the Arab community who are included in our research) — that speak over 36 Asian languages.

The model minority myth really obscures the diversity and need in the community. For example, Asians are the poorest racial group in 🗽, with 25 percent living in poverty (a rate that grew by 44 percent from 2000 to 2016). The majority, or 70 percent, are immigrants, with 70 percent also having limited English proficiency. If you disaggregate the data, you’ll also 👀 that some Asian groups, like Cambodian, Laotian, and Hmong, have higher status dropout rates (the percent of 16-24 year olds who aren’t enrolled in school and don’t have a high school diploma) than non-Hispanic Whites.

Mental Health is a journey that many of us go through. Unfortunately, many people of color do not have the accessibility for mental health/resources. How is the stigma towards mental health hurtful in the Asian/Pacific Islander community?

Deep cultural stigma is one of the greatest barriers to accessing mental health services in the Asian American community.

A study found that even though a higher percentage of Asian American high school and college students reported experiencing depressive symptoms compared to their White counterparts, Asian Americans are the least likely group to report, seek, and receive medical help for depressive symptoms due to cultural stigma. This stigma stems from the belief that mental healthcare is “only for crazy people” — or the seriously ill — and comes from honor/shame cultures that suppress negative experiences in order to “save face” or not be a burden to others.

Also, Asian Americans, who bear the additional burdens of the model minority myth and imposter syndrome, can further feel they are “weak” or “inadequate” when they struggle with stress, anxiety, depression, and so forth, which may deter them from reaching out for help.

How can we de-stigmatize mental health needs?

One of the best ways that we can de-stigmatize mental health needs is to develop and spread mental health literacy. Part of spreading mental health literacy also comes from sharing our own stories about how mental illness has touched our lives, whether personally or through a family member or friend, so that we can normalize mental healthcare as we would physical healthcare.

Pictured: AAF’s Executive Director Jo-Ann Yoo & 🗽 Council members. Photography courtesy of the Asian American Federation

How can people continue to support the Asian/Pacific Islander community?

🔌 into Asian-led, Asian-serving community-based organizations where you live. There is tremendous need for Asian Americans who can commit their time, expertise, and resources to serving the fastest-growing population in the U.S. And really commit—by volunteering to teach a class in something you’re skilled at, joining a board, or offering to hold a fundraiser. By serving the community, you’re actually investing in resources that will uplift you, your family, and the community as a whole.

Thank you for your time, Joo Han. We appreciate all your work with the Asian American Federation. Tumblr, how do you handle your mental health as a person of color? Use the hashtag #APAHM to share your story.

For nearly 30 years, GAPIMNY (formerly Gay Asian Pacific Islander Men of NY) has been creating events and programs, documenting queer and trans AAPI history, and advocating for rights and visibility.

Founded in 1990, GAPIMNY offered critical support and community to AAPIs experiencing racism and homophobia in the midst of an HIV/AIDS crisis.

In 1991, GAPIMNY, Asian Lesbians on the East Coast, and other groups protested the racist musical Miss Saigon on Broadway. GAPIMNY played a major role in educating white LGBTQ people about yellowface and racist stereotypes.

Miss Saigon protest photo credit: Bino Realuyo

Since then, GAPIMNY has organized many educational campaigns and actions like co-organizing the first queer contingent in 🗽 Chinatown’s Lunar New Year Parade and fighting for same-sex marriage and #BlackLivesMatter.

(vía Conmemoran Día Mundial de la Bicicleta)

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