#i need more lighting and at least one pride flag

[moncharrow]

the red line (+ ai audios)

a/n: this one is inspired by the song cherry by rina sawayama. that drives me wack every time i hear it. rina u are a genius. requests still open :) i hope this is reminiscent of a first love/first girl crush. i sure projected here LMAO

-content/warnings: 4k words, kinda loser! ellie x loser! reader (pining pining pining), fem reader, lots of awkward flirting, reader has slight anxiety/overthinks, reader's first gay relationship, fleeting mentions of drug use/creepy dudes/homophobia

Moving from your small Midwestern town to the East Coast was a whirlwind of culture shock and nerves. The people in your town were tooth-achingly sweet, while East Coast people were straightforward enough to induce whiplash. The air seemed smog-clogged compared to the untouched crispness of a rural day, occasionally choking when you open your window in the morning and making the mistake of inhaling too deeply. But while the honeyed grass fields and clear cerulean skies of Wisconsin would always hold a fond place in your heart, its fresh air couldn’t compare to the refreshing feeling of a big city. Sure, people in your hometown were nice, but there was always an underlying threat of conformity- the asphyxiation of green grass lawns, American flags, and fishing trips was finally released when you entered Boston, your new home. 

You’d only been here a few days, moving into your apartment and getting to know the neighborhood, so there’d been no time to explore the broader city. At least, that was the excuse you’d use. A couple friends had called and urged you to take photos for them, saying that they were trapped at home and you were the only one who’d escaped the town. You’d type a short lol come with, but you needed to settle at your own pace. This was why, on the fifth day, you’d decided to traverse across the entire city to find a music store called “The Boston Beat” that caught your eye on Yelp. 4.3 stars, a fair selection of mainstream records and indie music, and a pride flag in the window, which was a welcome change of pace. You had a day plan.

You’d marched up to the light rail station, bought a card, and charged it with a day pass, unready to commit to the investment of a monthly pass. While not experienced with subway prices, 90 bucks seemed insane. You’d see if it was a worthy investment depending on the experience you’d have today. 

It was a hot August day- waves of heat warped your vision when radiating off the dark cement, metal fixtures stinging your hands when touched. The inside of the station was no better, muggy and dank. You found a strange comfort in it, the city becoming more human by the minute. You were surprised at how intuitive the subway had been so far, and you were gaining confidence with every step. Maybe you are cut out for this city shit. You step up to the entrance. Moment of truth. You swipe and arrogantly attempt to walk through, only to run into the locked turnstile. You had never been so immediately humbled. Well, fuck.

Swipe again. The card reader’s red light doesn’t falter. Swipe again. Still nothing. Swipe, swipe, swipe. The hell? You wiggle the turnstile, face heating as people start to group behind you. Fuckfuckfuckfuck- 

“Fucking… go… swipe through, shitass card.” You mutter, already emotionally drained from the eyes on you. Someone side-eyes you as they enter the stall next to you with ease, and you give them an apologetic, wide-eyed smile. I’m never leaving the house again, you think. You move to shove at the turnstile again, assuming that if you did nothing differently, the result would change. And you were… right?

“Fuck yeah! I’m so good.” You congratulate yourself for figuring it out, and you hear a low chuckle behind you. A tattooed arm holds a scraped and folded, worn-to-hell Charlie card. The slim fingers holding it are calloused but well-manicured, nimbly swiping the card again to let themselves through. You look up to see who pitied you enough to grant you entrance, and you’re surprised to see a pretty girl with auburn hair pulled up in a half-up-half-down do. Little pieces stick out of the sides, ends curling up and down wildly, short choppy hair framing her slender neck. Her face is wholly amused, lips curving into a small smirk and freckles shifting across her nose she smiles at you. She’s already incredibly attractive, but her eyes- God. Green and intense, reminding you of the duckweed coating the ponds at home. Like a Pollock of greens, browns, and flecks of yellow, her eyes meet yours as she holds up her card in two fingers, waving it in front of her face. She has a well-loved hair tie on her wrist. 

“Go through before it locks.” She chides. Your cheeks heat and you nervously laugh before pushing through. Beads of sweat stick to your face and neck, but you’re not sure if it’s from the summer heat or the embarrassment. The girl meets you on the other side and you fidget with the front edge of your tank top.

“Uhm, thanks for that. Was beginning to think I’d entered purgatory with all those people behind me.” You awkwardly joke, rifling through your bag. “I have cash, I can pay you for that-”

“Y’ don’t need to, it’s like two bucks. I’m a starving college student but I’m not that strapped for cash.” She glances at your jittering body, looking you directly into your eyes for the second time. Does she want to give you a heart attack? “You new or something? You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

You groan in response. “It’s that obvious?” The pretty stranger laughs.

“Not really. Maybe I’m more observant than most. Don’t sweat it, newbie, these stations are fucked up. It probably wasn’t your fault.”

“You sure?”

“Ah, you’re right- on second thought, maybe the MTA just hates you specifically.” She jokes, and you laugh. You’re straggling near the entrance, swaying around as you make small talk with her. 

“I wouldn’t put it past them, I’m shit with directions. They probably want to keep me off the trains at all costs.” You joke right back at her, and she chuckles again. Her laugh is pretty. Her smile is pretty. It’s a little cocky, but somehow in a chill way. Anyway, you figure it suits her. 

“Well, if you’re that bad, tell me where you’re going. Maybe I can help.” She offers. You tell her about The Boston Beat on the other side of the city, and her eyes twinkle. “Yo, no kidding. I work there. I’m off today, but I totally know where that is. It’s along the red line, here.” She leads you over to a scratched mess of a sign and points to where you can faintly make out a red path. “We’re here, you wanna get-” she stretches her arm out, “here.” She tells you which stop to get off at.

You thank her profusely and say goodbye. You head left towards the rail she told you to take, and to your mortification, she goes the same direction. Saying bye when she’s going the same way, stupid. You walk a little faster when you notice this, attempting to awkwardly force more space between the two of you. It’s fine, it’s fine. I’m just being silly- she doesn’t care! She’s not thinking about it! I’m just overthinking it.

Ellie, strolling behind you, actually is thinking about it. She watches as you speed-walk away, juxtaposing the way she casually strolls to lean against a support beam. Something about how you fidget and stutter was weirdly charming. Huh. She keeps staring.

You can tell someone’s watching you, but you assume that, as usual, it’s a gross old man. Your eyes come up, scanning the platform suspiciously for whichever creep you’ll have to tell off, but you make eye contact, again, with the pretty girl from earlier. Why was there so much eye contact? It was so nerve-wracking, but also… so exhilarating. The moment your eyes meet hers, she smiles, eyes crinkling. You immediately avert your gaze, breath catching.

A beat passes. You take your phone out and scroll the home screen for a minute. Open the compass app. Open the stocks app. Wow, how interesting. She’s probably not looking now, right? You sneak a glance, and she’s still looking. You don’t know if she stares out of disdain or curiosity. Thankfully, the speakers tell you to step away from the edge of the platform, alerting you of the oncoming vehicle. My saving grace, you think. You bounce on your heels as the subway train pulls up, and you take one last look at the girl. She’s looking away. Strands of brown hair move in the train’s wind, falling out of her bun, her side profile looking perfect in a somehow rugged way. Her oversized army green jacket folds and bends as she tucks her hair back and pulls her headphones on to block out the world. You find yourself wondering what she’s listening to. Maybe dad rock or riotgrrl.

You step into the car in front of you, feeling a strange ache deep within you that you can’t quite explain. Oh well. 

By the end of the day, the pretty girl from the subway station is out of your mind. You’ll never see her again, so there’s no point in mulling over it. You enjoyed your day of exploration, and Boston has left a very favorable impression so far. Today felt like self-care. Maybe you’ll do this next week, too.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

You’re working 2 part-time jobs to make ends meet. The first is a morning shift at a millennial coffee shop with eggshell walls, exposed brick, wood accents, and Hobby Lobby cursive signs saying “Don’t talk to me til’ I’ve had my espresso”. It pays decently, mostly because it’s busy as hell, but you’re getting tired of making a “grande”. You don’t have grandes, you’re not Starbucks. The second job is at a tour service. You’re always bored and you hate being surrounded by American history merch, but at least you’re in A/C. The coffee shop is just a block from your apartment, so it’s not much of a walk. The tour is 4 stops away on the subway.

Months go by. It’s October. Every Sunday, Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday, you take the red line to your second job. And every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday, you see her. The handsome girl with the generous subway card. 

Sometimes, you’re in the same car. You’ll glance up from your phone every so often, eyes raking over her. Everything about her tells a story. She always has a Jansport backpack and dirty black Converse. She dresses pretty masculine. Every Thursday, she carries a guitar with deep red paint and lacquer peeling off in chips, crumbling onto the floor. You wonder if she plays well. She argues on the phone with someone named Joel, but their conversations end in stubbornly grumbled “love you”s every time. Often, she wears that dark green jacket you met her in. You’ve been able to examine it a little more: it has some grease stains and says “Joel” on the front. Whoever he is to her, he’s probably some kind of mechanic. She’s always a little more tired than the day before. Sometimes you lay in bed and wonder if you’re some kind of creepy stalker. If you’re obsessed. No, you reason, she just looks cool. 

Across the train tracks, Ellie lies in bed, looking at the flags and banners on her ceiling, and she wonders the same thing. Is it weird that I’m disappointed when I don’t see her? Is it strange that I recognize her wardrobe? Your clothes tell a lot about you. You weren’t very confident when you talked to her, but by the manner in which you dressed, you had a good understanding of who you were, and even if you were slightly unconventional in some ways, you had no problem with showing your authentic self. That was something Ellie admired. You always had this… look in your eyes. Somehow hopeful and content, even though you were just riding on a dirty, shaky train to a dead-end job. It reminded Ellie of when she was a kid and had that same expression in Joel’s old pictures. You always had the same bracelet on. She wonders what it means to you, if it was a gift from someone you love.

There’s a silent understanding between the two of you. If you happen to make eye contact, it’s not unwelcome. You give her a smile and a small wave, and she offers a tight-lipped grin. One time, she awkwardly pretended to tip an invisible hat and immediately cringed at herself. She scrunched up her face and muttered “Why would I do that?”, swearing at herself. It was cute. You laughed a little, and she smiled, flustered. Apart from the few interactions you’d daydream about as you went through your monotone days, you hadn’t talked to the girl again. 

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

In an effort to stop being such a hopeless, pining loser, you downloaded Tinder to go on some casual dates. You’d gone on two, both girls being alright, but having no particular connection. But this last girl seemed relatively cool. Her name was Cat, and you’d opened with some line asking how many people made pussy jokes about her name. She’d responded well, and the two of you scheduled a date for 10 on a Sunday night. 

So why was it 11, and she still wasn’t showing? You’d ordered your red wine, then ordered water, then another wine, and there was no Cat to be found. The waiter would come around every so often and ask if you needed anything. There was an underlying tone of pity. The longer you sat alone, the more judging eyes you felt on you- after all, who sits alone at a table with two place settings? The waiter probably should’ve kicked you out a while ago, you think, wallowing in your emotions. 

You paid the bill and left after the staff offered a free slice of pie. That had sent you over the edge, tears pricking at your eyes as you thankfully wove your hands around. “That’s really so sweet, thank you guys so much, I’m okay, I really am, but I really appreciate this. You don’t know how much that means.” The rambling certainly didn’t help your appearance, but you really were grateful.

With a to-go box and an overreactive text to Cat, you left the restaurant, dragging the roses you’d brought for the date. You drudge to the red line, and you overthink as you wait for the train. The thoughts are entirely unreasonable, and you know this, but you let yourself have it—a little self-deprecation, as a treat.

The train is mostly empty, save for someone huddled in the corner. You’ve got quite a way to go to get home, and the first few stops feel torturously slow. About a quarter way through your ride-of-shame, someone boards the train. You avert your eyes as they do, not wanting to draw attention to how goddamn pathetic you feel. From the corner of your eye, you see them approach. The fuck? Am I gonna get stabbed? 

But you recognize those shabby Converse and the worn bottom of a guitar case. You look up to see the girl you’d been trying to get over, looking absolutely radiant in the disgustingly unflattering yellow light of the train. You follow her movements as she sits down right next to you, feeling absolutely entranced. Your gaze glances over her cute nose, the silver jewelry on her ear, and how two of her nails are cut too close to the flesh while the others are grown out. She clears her throat.

“So… you okay?” Her voice is a little hoarse, and it sounds like she’s been talking all day. She’s probably tired. You don’t usually see her on Sundays, so you wonder why she’s out. Her eyes are dark and tinted a little purple on the under-eye, but she stares at you like she genuinely wants to listen.

You realize you’ve been staring long enough to make it weird. “Um- yeah, I just- yeah. I’m good.” You throw up a pathetic thumbs-up. Jesus. That was… awful.

She smiles. “Say it again, but mean it this time.” You laugh a little.

“I look like I was mugged, huh?”

“No. You look nice. A little sad though. So what happened?” 

“I got stood up. It’s alright though, I wasn’t that into her.”

“Was she a dry texter or some kind of weirdo?” She says, and you chuckle.

As you lament to her about the no-show-Tinder-date, she listens intently, leaning forward as she nods along. Every so often she scoffs as you describe Cat, as if this stranger is your best friend spilling drama with you. It’s easy to talk to her when she acts so familiar with you.

“You fucking kidding? You bought her flowers and shit and offered to pay and she still didn’t show up?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s bullshit. You sound like the ideal date, honestly. Her loss.” Ellie cringes again. Could she have come on any stronger? Thankfully, it doesn’t seem like you mind, chuckling a little.

“I don’t know about all that, but thanks.” It’s quiet for a little, not awkward, but both of you can tell the other wants to keep talking. You decide to take the first leap. Maybe the fact that your subway girl is here is a sign from the universe. “So, I don’t usually see you on Sundays. Got your guitar with you. You do something fun?” You berate yourself internally- you know when you see her? Stalker, much?

She bashfully tells you that she went to an open mic in a Cambridge bar. “It was a little weird since I’m new to having an audience n’ all. I usually bring my guitar to work to practice, but that’s it.”

Your face lights up excitedly. “Hey, that’s so cool! I bet you did great.” Ellie holds in a smile, lips twitching upward as she tries to deflect the compliment.

“I guess I was okay. A little stiff, maybe.” You playfully hit her arm. She freezes for a second and looks down at where you touched her. Wow.

“Come on, don’t be so humble. You write your own stuff?”

“Yeah. Uh, I do.”

“You mind showing me?” Ellie startles. Of all the things she’d expected from tonight, she didn’t expect a late-night serenade. She places the guitar on her thigh, slipping it under her right arm. As she begins to play a song, you feel a weird shift in the air. Your face falls from its playful expression and you take the chance to admire her, from the dips and divets in her face to the artful spattering of freckles across her cheeks, to the scars along her arms and hands. You see her pretty tattoo again. It’s not perfect up close, but it’s more personal and charming. The ink is slightly faded and bleeds in the thinner areas. It looks like it covers a scar. Her eyebrows are furrowed as she focuses on hitting all the right notes, desperately wanting to impress you. 

As she finishes the song, she looks up at you, wide-eyed and vulnerable. You smile that bright smile at her again, and Ellie feels validated. Her chest is warm and her fingers are tingling- her body feels absolutely electrified. “You’re really skilled. That was amazing.”

Ellie shifts, subconsciously scooting closer to you as she does. Your thighs touch together and it feels right. It feels comfortable. “Thanks. Was that kinda cheesy or…?”

“How do you mean?”

“Was this a late-night guitar serenade?” She wiggles her eyebrows and you laugh.

“Mhm. Definitely. This some kind of meet-cute?” Ellie’s eyes crinkle again in the corners when you say this. You notice she doesn’t laugh a lot. She notices that you do. That’s charming, the two of you think.

“I don’t know. Is it working?” Her expression gets a little more serious. 

Your face experiences a flush of hot, then cold, as you feel yourself becoming embarrassed at how forward she is.” Yeah. It is.” You admit. She just nods, smiling.

“Cool.” It’s silent for a few beats again. “Cool cool cool.”

“...So, uh, I never got your name, actually.”

“Oh, shit, you’re right. I’ve just been calling you cute train girl. I’m Ellie.” Her hand slips into yours as you tell her your name. She’s a little clammy, but you are too. It’s awkward and a very weak handshake, but it’s incredibly important to the two of you.

“So uh-”

“Do you-” You both start to speak at the same time, and you chuckle and motion for her to speak first.

“Would you- and feel free to say no, like, I don’t wanna pressure you- but would you maybe want to go out with me? As a- as a make-up date of sorts?”

You grin like it’s the best thing you’ve ever heard. Ellie feels like a 17-year-old experiencing her first love because of how goddamn giddy she is. “I’d love that. I just- I don’t know about going out this late.” Ellie’s face falls a bit, and you feel like you kicked a puppy. You move quickly to defend what you said. “If you wanted to have the date now…” You pick the roses up from your side. A few have brown bruises from wilting, but you hand them to Ellie, who enjoys the gesture nevertheless.

“You’re corny.” She grins.

“You played the guitar for me. So, I guess you are too.” 

“Yeah. I guess so.” 

Ellie plays a few song covers for you. You give a few requests that she knows, and she peppers in a Weezer song and smiles like it’s the funniest thing ever. You play along, weirdly charmed. It feels like you’re the only two people in the world. The moment is far from perfect- the train jolts violently, the crisp fall air bites at your nose, and you and Ellie are both quite tired. But it’s a really, really nice moment. You know you’ll dream about it tonight.

Your stop comes first, and you reluctantly warn her that you’ll have to leave. Ellie asks for your number, and you happily give it to her. Her wallpaper is a picture of her and her friends, in which she is mid-eye roll. You smile a bit at it and put your contact name as “Cute Train Girl”. When you get your phone back, you see she’s put a dinosaur emoji next to her name. The speaker announces your station as the train rolls to a stop. Ellie stands up before you, taking your hand and helping you up.

“Would you maybe wanna do this again sometime? Not the ‘getting stood up and being on the gross train’ part, but like, a date. An actual date. Not one with someone doing k in the corner of a subway car?” You glance over at said man. Yeah, a real date sounds good.

“I’d love to. Just text me about it, yeah?”

Ellie breathes out a sigh of relief. “Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

You say goodbye and step out of the train car, and right as the train announces to be clear of the closing doors, a foot jams into it, and the door bounces back open. “Fuck, ow,” Ellie mutters. She runs out of the train and turns you to face her. “Don’t go yet. I just- I need to kiss you. I have for a while now.” She admits, and you fluster. She smiles at your reaction. “Don’t get too flattered.” She teases. 

You grin and bite your lip as she tilts your chin up. As your lips make contact, you realize that this is what you’ve been waiting for for months. There’s a sense of deja vu, like you’ve been experiencing this exact moment every night, and now that it’s finally happening, it barely feels real, but the feeling of Ellie’s lips against yours grounds you to the moment. You want to memorize the feeling of her adoration. 

You allow yourself to get lost in her touch, appreciating how lucky you were to get stood up.  If Cat wasn’t a no-show, you wouldn’t have gotten the chance to get to know Ellie. You wouldn’t have been able to explore this feeling with her. 

But most importantly, thank God for the red line and your incompetence with the card swiper.

[vitaminseetarot]

PAC: Random Messages You May Need 🌈🎆⛅

Sup, y'all. I'm finally back for another pick a card reading. I really apologize if folks have not heard from me over the past month, I meant to get this reading (among other things) out a while ago. I have not been able to touch tarot for the past few weeks. Life has been… topsy turvy, to say the least. Heh heh. [sweating profusely]

I meant to have another game out and to have paid readings available by now--that is still part of the plan. What was meant for June will be in July. So this blog might go from 0 to 100 mph real soon, to move along with plans as intended!

I was loosely inspired by the Baker pride flag from 1978 for this group selection. These piles are pretty nondescript: each one contains a random message that may resonate with you. Pick based on whichever color of the Prism Oracle speaks to you most, and feel free to choose more than one. Take only what resonates.

Pile 1 - Strength (Red) Pile 2 - Happiness (Orange) Pile 3 - Illumination (Yellow) Pile 4 - Movement (Green) Pile 5 - Flow (Turquoise) Pile 6 - Trust (Blue) Pile 7 - Intuition (Violet) Pile 8 - Love (Pink)

Pile 1 - Strength (Red)

10 of Swords, Insight

You've been asked by the universe to put up with a lot, especially recently. You're reaching a finish line of a very long and brutal marathon. There have been too many times where you questioned whether or not to throw in the towel. If you have, you may also have questioned whether or not it was the correct choice. Sometimes, things don't work out, and it's better to move on. It can be difficult to hold everything up when one thing after another seems to fall apart at the seams, but either way you're being reminded of the light at the end of this long and turbulent tunnel.

Collect yourself, pick up what pieces you can. Time has shifted everything, but the essentials still stand. Gather the wisdom you have learned from this ordeal. There is still beauty to be found in the decay, glittering gems in the rough.

Maybe you don't want to get stronger. Healing may feel like a better option than grinding for difficult experience points. Give yourself the rest and repair you need. Let go of only that which is keeping you from starting again, but you don't need to throw the baby out with the bathwater. You've gained so much wisdom and strength, this trial wasn't without gain. Treasure it and begin anew.

Pile 2 - Happiness (Orange)

2 of Swords, Clarity

Whatever answers you seek are coming to you. Or perhaps they've already arrived; open your eyes and see for yourself. You may be wondering which path will satisfy you more. The process of reconciling this could take forever unless you lean on your gut here. This can't be decided based on intellect alone, for you could get stuck mulling it over for days. Imagining all the different possible outcomes could be taxing for your brain, so narrow it down. Eliminate the weakest links and home in on what excites you. It should feel like an "aha, yes!"

If you cannot see the answer right away, go within to the realm of imagination. Feel your way through. Visualize not just with sight but with yearning. Does the light of the sun make you feel hopeful? Does the cool rain make you feel relaxed? Would an art class expand your capacity to imagine many things, or would taking a science class?

The X mark in 2 of Swords is like a railroad crossing sign. Redirect that train of thought into brighter and more positive avenues of expression. Say "what if" as if you can't wait for something to happen. "What if I saw a shooting star tonight? What if my cute neighbor asked me out?" Let the future shine its beacon for you. It will all make sense in due time.

Pile 3 - Illumination (Yellow)

Ace of Cups, Reconciliation

Have you been staying up way too late trying to figure everything out? Please give yourself a brain curfew: no problem solving or saving the day after 10 pm! I'm getting that you may tend to ruminate on the same strong emotions. For some I'm getting that there is a crush here. There's inconsistent text messaging. I know it's easy to get too nervous about their reply, but try to wait until at least the next day to hear back. They may need time to formulate their words right. They may not even see your message straight away. Take it all in stride and sleep on it; if they want to reach out to you, then they eventually will.

For others in this pile, you may be going through a rough patch with another person right now and could be wondering how things will pan out. Give them time to respond, they could still be processing it. Stay on the more positive end of things with the idea that things will work themselves out. I feel like if you can manage this in a relaxed and non hurried way, the knot will untangle easily. The coffee in the Ace of Cups is very hot, so give it a chance to cool.

There is opportunity in your near future to make up for something that went awry due to a miscommunication error. You may get a chance to make up for a test, appointment, or an interview. You will receive grace for any mishaps. Remember that tomorrow won't necessarily be the same as today, so cherish both the good you have now along with the good that soon awaits you.

Pile 4 - Movement (Green)

IX Hermit, Devotion

Looks like things are progressing faster than you even thought they would. You may be blinking your eyes in partial disbelief: could this ball really be rolling? Indeed, thanks to your efforts, goals are being met and results are more evident by the day. You eschewed a lot of distractions to make this work, so give yourself a pat on the back for the level of commitment you put into it. Some of you in this pile may have just graduated, if so then congratulations! But try not to get too comfortable with your laurels, for you have a long road ahead of you in whatever you do next. This one completion is the start of many.

Does that thrill you? If so, wonderful! On the other hand, some of you may be feeling uncertain about continuing. You may be reviewing your options to see if this really is worth pursuing. Something that requires a lot of dedication and focus on it to the exclusion of all else… yeah, I can see how that can get tiring after a long time. There are folks who can get their Master's right after their Bachelor's, or have another child right after the first, but people can also happily move on to what feels more right for them instead.

It's okay to stop and assess your tracks if necessary. Taking time off is not the same as quitting. It's not losing motivation, it's recovering it. This is your passion and your discipline, not anyone else's. If you need to give other parts of your life more room to breathe, then do so with the confidence that your great work will wait for you.

Pile 5 - Flow (Turquoise)

4 of Wands, Hospitality

Have you been stuck with something for a while? There's a strong sense of a blockage that is being eroded away over time. This process can be sped up by allowing the ice to thaw a little more. "Break the ice." You may be wanting to open up and spend more quality time with other people but don't know how. Or you could be faced with meeting new people and being nervous about interacting with them. Even more so if they're roommates. A few people in this pile could be moving or have just moved. This is a chance to ease up and get to know new people.

This blockage could be a result of the past and of anxiety. The sound of a turning doorknob just jumpscared me as I typed the last sentence. You may benefit from learning about social anxiety and how to manage it. It's not an overnight job for you to fix this, though, but to just be aware of it and not allow it to get in the way of positive change in your life.

If you're struggling to figure out how to deal with meeting new people, I would suggest looking up videos or how-tos on social interaction, especially if a certain etiquette is required for an event. Learn about conversation starters and fun things you could do together like hosting a game night. Practice makes perfect, and over time the blockage will melt into the stream.

Pile 6 - Trust (Blue)

3 of Swords, Conversion

You have a very soft and tender outlook on life, which makes it all the more painful when reality doesn't conform to such a compassionate vision. It doesn't always try to respond to vulnerability in appropriate ways. Much of the time, this isn't from natural events as much as it stems from the ways in which people can treat one another cruelly. You've had some toxic people in your life who have put you through the wringer and attempted to squeeze every ounce of kindness they could from you. Making light of this pain to them only resulted in further deflection and antagonism on their part. The only outcome was to salvage whatever you could and pray for the best.

It is not your job to change their closed minded perspectives. They're on their own, here. Do not concern yourself with their messy inner world and lose any more of your energy. Also, do not attempt to regain what energy has been lost through bargaining either, as much as it hurts to press onward without looking back. You will recover, but you have to move on first and prioritize what you deeply care about most (you included).

There will come a time when your heart will be healed so you can see the brighter side of human connection again. All the beauty that your gentle soul is seeking is still there, shrouded by layers of protective petals that will one day bloom again and your life will truly flourish. For now, this is a time to give yourself all the comfort you can.

Pile 7 - Intuition (Violet)

XII Hanged Man, Spring

I get the feeling that you've been waiting quite a while for some good results to come in. This could either be from something that you started back in the spring, or are waiting to see results which may come around springtime. It is a season of flowers, so you may be waiting for this thing to blossom--that is, to be fully presentable to the public in some way. To have something to show for the time you put in. Like "hey, this is what I've been working on, this came from the seeds I planted." It could be growing in a direction unlike what you're used to, leaving you wondering how it could succeed in such unusual and burdensome conditions.

Lean on your inner guidance when it comes to the right timing. I don't believe that you're currently in a space where you need to push so hard for the best results. You can let things move at their own pace. Over tending to anything can end up in just as much trouble as neglect. There's only so much you can do before you have to let the flower do the growing and blooming for itself.

It's not always easy to sit in the place of uncertainty with the idea that doing more will provide more. But sometimes less is more. What you're creating is coming to fruition and may even turn out better than you expected. Trust in both the knowledge you've earned over time from learning lessons, as well as your natural intuition, to help you decide when it's time to take action.

Pile 8 - Love (Pink)

7 of Swords, Gossip

Let your heart lead the way here, not your worries over what others will think. Sure, you may end up with some people talking about you, but opportunities will keep passing by if you wait for everyone else to catch up to you. Leaning too much on everyone else's perspectives will only distort the vision you have for your own life journey. We all have unique journeys to go on, but unconditional kindness remains at the center of the Love card, the one thing that brings us together. Following life from a heart centered place may result in having others glance over and whisper, but that shouldn't distract you.

There is a rather delicate message here about dealing with friendships, colleagues, or possibly even family. You may have a tricky situation between several other people right now who have beef not with you but with each other. They may be coming to you to air their grievances and ask for advice.

If you care about both of these people, then it's best to approach this issue as diplomatically and impartially as possible and avoid feeding into the conflict. What would an enlightened mindset do in this situation? How would you want the other person to behave if they were in your shoes? Come from a place of pure compassion. They may choose to make amends or not, it's up to them. If their butting heads is bringing you down, it's always okay to step back and take a break. You are not responsible for what's going on in their heart, only your own, so protect yours well.

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2024, @VitaminseeTarot ™

[sp1nxx]

Who fell first vs Who fell Harder// 𝐌𝐡𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬

A/N!!- Hi everyone!! This is my first official post! I’m kinda nervous ,:) but hopefully I wont get too discouraged!! This might not be the most in cannon but I tried my best (=^ ◡ ^=) Wish me luck! Also if it’s requested I’ll make a pt.2 to this

𝐈𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐲𝐚

He fell first, you fell harder

It’s not too surprising he ended up falling for you. You’re heroic, brave, and over all a very sweet person at heart. While he recognizes your a bit rough around the edges, he knows not everyone is perfect and if anything he loves you more because of your flaws and vulnerabilities. He adores seeing you light up when he brings you snacks you enjoy, or when someone brings up something you enjoy. The way you could be holding a conversation with someone but be immediately pulled away when you see a cute animal and the big smile you have while watching said animal is one he’ll cherish.

And just how it’s not surprising he fell for you, it’s definitely not surprising that you fell for him. He’s sweet, caring, considerate and probably the walking definition of a green flag. He goes out of his way to accommodate you if you happen to need it. He brings you snacks or water if you ask, anything you need. He was the first person to get you out of your shell and make you feel comfortable enough to be yourself and he taught you to embrace things you previously didn’t like before. He was a light for your life whom you cherished. So no, it wasn’t surprising when you fell hard for Izuku.

𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨

You fell first, he fell harder

Who wouldn’t be at least somewhat drawn to him? He has such a commanding presence it’s hard not to notice him. He’s tenacious, determined, and he doesn’t back down from anything. While he’s very rough around the edges and will probably end up yelling so loud your eardrums explode, you’ve seen how big of a heart he has. His soft side is there, it’s just past his temper and the defenses he put up in an attempt to keep everyone out. But you’re willing to go around that to reach his heart.

Katsuki doesn’t “fall” for people. If anything, he prides himself on not being hung up on lovely dovey crap. Katsuki Bakugo falling for people was unprecedented until he met you. At first he didn’t think much of you if we’re being honest. You were just another extra he’d easily get ahead of on his way to becoming the number one hero. But you were one of the first people to check on him and ask if he was okay after he got kidnapped. Sure, he dismissed you but the worry in your voice stuck in his mind, along with the concerned and caring look in your eyes. That’s probably what made him fall for you in the first place, you cared. It pissed him off to no end, because he didn’t like the idea of getting all mushy and having to deal with those dumb feelings, but there’s no denying that you stole his heart.

𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢

He fell first and he fell harder

Shoto is obviously a complicated person. At first you were honestly a bit intimidated by him when school first started. He was quiet and while obviously he had compassion and wouldn’t do anything against you on purpose, his general aura unsettled you; especially during the sports festival. After the sports festival though, he changed. You couldn’t put your finger on it but he definitely changed, and he changed for the better. He seemed calmer, more approachable and his eyes seemed kinder, he even smiled more. He was more talkative to, making an effort to get into conversation with you and always wanting to include you in things. You noticed his change, and it drew you in

Like Bakugo, Shoto didn’t really think much of you at first. He would be cordial if you tried to talk with him, but he made it obvious he wasn’t really interested in you. And he appreciated the fact you seemed to pick up on his disinterest and gradually talked to him less. After the sports festival though, something about you changed to him. You had come up to him to congratulate him on his 2nd placing and you smiled at him. Over his time at school he noticed you weren’t the type to smile much, at least the smile you gave him wasn’t one he’d seen often; it seemed brighter, and reached your eyes more. When you smiled something in his chest swelled and he decided to make more of an effort to talk to you again. Over time he realized everything you did took his breath away, he was hanging on to every word you said, hoping you’d look his way and smile. Because you were the reason he could smile so often now.

[sloancameronspits]

Cold Sloan Creamery

A charming cutie steals your attention at your boring coffee-shop job. Turns out they've got a food service gig as well - a much sweeter one. Modern AU.

Another experiment I did with first-person stuff. Sex is alluded to but not present. Word count: 2253. Enjoy!

Five A.M. Entirely too early to be doing anything, let alone having to drag myself into work for another day; yet here I was, miserably reading the back of a shampoo bottle in the shower. Mornings like this, I would idly wonder if it was worth quitting my job. Technically, I could probably survive college without it if I took out more loans. There were benefits to working at a coffee shop as well. I just had to push through it.

I turned off the water and grabbed a towel. Working on campus was pleasant at least, even on the weekends it felt like I was part of a community. I had a few regulars I knew and enjoyed talking to. I was hyping myself up as I dried myself off, hoping to make the day a little less miserable. It worked slightly, as I was at least able to muster up the energy to get ready and make it there.

The lights were already on, and I mumbled “good morning”s to my coworkers as I kept preparing myself mentally for the day ahead. I made myself a small coffee - one of the perks of the job was a free drink per shift, and I needed it now - and drank it entirely too quickly for something that hot. With that, I was finally ready to start the drudgery of commerce. It was Saturday, so there was no rush of people coming to class, but there were still a few customers. Just get into the groove, it’ll be fine. I thought to myself.

I was able to dissociate and lose myself in filling orders and making drinks, and by the time I looked at the clock again I had made it to eleven. Not too bad so far, just a few hours to go. The next customer came up, looking a bit frazzled, and I couldn’t help but notice how cute they were. Cute brown hair, an eyebrow piercing, a dazzling smile - they had it all. And they would have their caramel latte with extra whipped cream they ordered in that beautiful high-energy voice.

They took their drink and sat themselves on one of our tables, pulling out a laptop festooned with stickers. A few pride stickers, including a nonbinary flag in a cute heart, as well as a litany of representations of historic places. A column from the Parthenon, a pyramid from Giza… this was clearly someone who was well versed in the wonders of the world. Exploring sounded nice right about now, trapped in work. At least it was lunchtime. Maybe I should talk to them? No, that was weird. I took another small coffee - one small coffee plus another still added up to one free drink, right? - and sat down at a table near enough to the mysterious cutie without being so close that I’d be anxious. It didn’t work. I was still anxious, hearing them tap-tap-tap away at their keyboard. I hadn’t had an infatuation this powerful or instant in a long time, and it had me sweating.

“Howdy!” They’d directed their attention to me. I was careful not to get my hopes up, but there was an outside shot that this was my chance. “That latte was really good. You seemed kinda down so I figured I’d uh, swing by?” They had taken their laptop over to my table, and were smiling that adorable chipped smile at me again. 

“Oh, thank you.” I said. Don’t fumble now, I thought to myself. “I was just thinking about an assignment I have due next week.”

They nodded. “Ugh, I feel that. I was actually working on a paper about the classical structures of Rome, which I love, but the writing still gets to me.”

“That sounds unique. What degree is that for?”

Their eyes lit up and they started to ramble a bit. “Archaeology! It’s been one of my favorite topics… well, my whole life! It’s been so fun to study. Still not into the writing though.” They sighed. “I wish I could get out of the classroom and out into the field, but digsites won’t take you without the degree. Lame.”

“Where are you hoping to get to work at once you get the degree?”

They paused for a moment in thought, then continued with their mile-a-minute responses. “I mean my favorite place in the whole world is Cairo, and I’d love to get to find an undiscovered part of the Pyramids, but I worry that staying in one place will mean I miss out on all the other places I could explore! I guess my answer is that I want to travel a lot? It would certainly be better than now, where the farthest I travel is from my dorm to the gym.”

Their figure did look as if they were into working out - not too much, but they certainly looked like an arm wrestling contest with them would not be particularly close. Hot. Averting my eyes, I checked my watch. Three minutes left on my lunch break. “Well, I’ve gotta get back to work. It was really nice talking to you…” I realized I hadn’t got their name.

They realized too. “I’m Sloan! Nice to meet you too! Hopefully I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah! Best of luck on your paper. When in Rome and all that.”

They stuck their tongue out playfully as they packed up their laptop, and left with a wave. I spent the rest of my shift hoping I’d see them again soon. That said, I think I was the only one who was going to drink two coffees in one day, so I guess it’d have to wait…

---

Two P.M. I was finally free from my job for the day. Most of the time, I only worked weekends, so in a way I was already halfway through the week. Despite this, I was still willing to spend a bit to get myself a little treat. A new ice cream shop had opened near campus, and it did sound relaxing to get a cone and relax in the courtyard in the summer sun. 

A small bell rang on the door as I entered, and I heard a surprisingly familiar voice greet me. “Welcome to Lindholm’s Ice Cream, where sweet treats are always…” They trailed off. “It’s you! Hello!” Sloan was there, on the job, dressed in a cute but admittedly somewhat tacky red and white striped outfit adorned with a hat and bowtie.

“You work here? I promise this is a coincidence.” I said sheepishly.

“Aw shucks, I mean you’re allowed to come visit just for me.” They said with a grin. “What can I get ya?”

“Oh, um…” My order was suddenly gone from my mind, lost in their eyes. “Whatever you recommend? Dealer’s choice.”

“Not something I hear often, but I can dig that.” They said, getting a scoop out and taking a hunk of pink dessert. “This one’s a simple combination I like. Strawberry and vanilla.”

“That sounds good. Thanks!” As they took the second scoop and placed it into a cone, I took the treat. “Is it alright if I hang out here? I’m not sure how busy you guys get.”

“Of course you can! As for business…” They put their hands on their cheeks in exaggerated disappointment. “You’re the first customer we’ve had today. I don’t know if the owner doesn’t do any advertising or what, but it gets pretty boring.” They perked back up a bit. “I still get paid the same either way, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“So how long have you worked here?” I asked, taking a spoonful of ice cream. The strawberry flavor was really refreshing after today.

“Like a month. It’s honestly not that bad. Nobody comes in, so I’m not bothered. Plus, they let me mess around with my own uniform for, uh, gender reasons. Let me wear this snazzy bowtie.” They stepped out from behind the counter with their own ice cream and sat down across from me.

“This is good! My compliments to the scooper.”

“‘Course! My taste is always good.”

---

The next few weeks, stopping by the ice cream shop on days when Sloan was working became something of a ritual. It was always nice to give them some company, chat about what was going on in our respective classes, and just… soak in their energy. Their bright smile, their cheery laugh, even down to their regularly changing nail polish, they just exuded positivity and light. Soon, they started coming to get more coffee more regularly, and we spent my breaks there talking as well. It turned my feelings on work around to know I’d get to see Sloan around midway through the day.

It was about a month before during one of our conversations over ice cream that I noticed Sloan was acting kind of strangely. Their eyes wouldn’t quite meet mine, their hands trembled a bit as they served out our desserts, and they nervously tapped their fingers on their side. They sat down across from me, eyes staring straight at their ice cream. There was no one else in the store, as usual - I’d seen maybe two other customers in the last month. 

“You okay, Sloan?”

“Yeah. Yeah!” Their downward gaze still didn’t change. They muttered under their breath. “¡Demonios!”

“If something’s bothering you, I’m happy to listen. Professor being a jerk again? Argument with someone?”

“No, no. Nothing like that.” They breathed in deeply. “Could you come with me to the back for a second?”

“I know I come in here a lot, but I don’t actually work here.” I said with a laugh.

“It’s fine, nobody else will come in anyway.” They grabbed my hand and practically dragged me to the storeroom in the back.

“Did you need me to like, do inventory?” I said, befuddled.

“Will you go out with me?” They said, finally meeting my gaze. “I know this is sudden, but I just can’t stop thinking about you.”

I stood stunned for a moment, overwhelmed by what had just happened.

“This was a bad idea. I knew it. I’m sorry. I don’t want to cause trouble-”

“Of course, Sloan!” I interrupted. “I’d love to, I just - I’ve thought about this for so long, ever since we first met. I was just afraid to ask too.”

Sloan smiled, a big grin showing off their chipped tooth, and pulled me into a hug. “Thank you. Thank you so much!” They mumbled into my shoulder. It was so comforting, their frame wrapped around me, the warmth of their body making the momentary anxiety fade away, their eyebrow piercing shining in the light, their goofy paper hat sliding off as they leaned into me.

“Do we need to go back out front? I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Nobody’s going to show up, and I want to go further. I need you.” They cupped my face in their hands.

“Okay. Take the lead then.”

Sloan took a moment to summon their usual optimism and courage, freeing themselves from their earlier fear; then, they pulled my face in for a kiss. Their lips gave in to mine with ease, and I melted into their embrace. I could taste a hint of sweetness on them. They reached an arm around me and gently lifted me, letting me fall deeper in. This was bliss. My tongue met theirs and my mind started to go blank. The rest of the world seemed to fade out; I was focused on them exclusively.

After an amount of time - I couldn’t tell how much - we pulled apart a bit, still in an embrace but not quite as close. “Still doing good?” Sloan panted out.

“So good.” I said. “If you want to go farther I’m willing.”

Sloan thought for a second, then shook their head. “Not here. That’ll have to wait for after my shift. I don’t want to get THAT much in trouble with my boss.”

I laughed, managing to get to my feet. They did as well, and I helped them smooth out their uniform to try to hide the evidence of our little escapade. Their hair was well mussed from my hands grasping through it, so I attempted to fix it. With a few brushes of my hand in a more orderly fashion, it almost worked. 

Sloan took out their phone to look at themselves. They laughed too. “Sloan Cameron, back in action, baby!” They mimed finger guns at me.

Clutching my heart in faux pain, I blew them a kiss and headed back out to the front. Just as they predicted, the ice cream shop was barren. “Looks like your job’s safe, Sloan.”

“Of course! You didn’t doubt me, did you?” They said. 

As the flood of emotions faded from me, I suddenly started to notice one thing that I can’t believe I hadn’t up until now. I was freezing. “How cold is it back there?” I said, starting to shiver.

“It’s an ice cream freezer! I’m just used to it.” They said with a smirk. “I’ve got an idea, though…” They threw their jacket at me. “Just bring it back to me later! I just keep it here just in case, I’m not using it much anyway. It’s hot out.” Grabbing a scrap of paper, they quickly scrawled in messy handwriting a note and handed it to me. It was their dorm room, their phone number, and a heart. “See you soon!”

[honeybadgercomeback]

Not Yet Goodbye

Saying goodbye to colleagues is hard, especially when you know they don’t want to leave. So yes, you’ve been hiding from Daniel while he’s saying goodbye to people in the garage before his last race. But he won’t let you away without a final conversation.

—

You’d never revealed your feelings.

Originally it had been a point of pride - you co-ordinated race weekends for McLaren, determined to not fall for the faces you saw every weekend. Sleeping with someone who was one of the hundreds of faces you saw in all corners of the globe was a catastrophe waiting to happen. When it was one of the men whose employment and the sponsors he brought in meant you could keep your job, then you were even more determined. You could drool from afar, watch from a distance, but your crush would remain a crush.

But this was Daniel’s last race, and your heart was breaking at the realisation you wouldn’t be spending any time with him next week. You wouldn’t hear him call your name to ask a question about setup, wouldn’t see the wide grin that had become oh so rare. Wouldn’t get another hug after a winning race, wearing one shoe as he hopped back to his drivers room. It was November in Abu Dhabi, and you were about to stop having Daniel in your life again.

Most of your job was done and you could finally take a deep breath. Usually at this point on a Saturday you’d be planning your next flight, leaving almost as soon as the checkered flag went to the next race destination, but this time you’d just be going home to England.

He’d been saying goodbye to people all weekend, some friends in the MTC had sent photos of him there with everyone. He’d gone to every person individually to thank them, and you didn’t think you’d cope with that. You didn’t want to cope with it.

It was funny, you didn’t even think he knew your name for the first few weeks. Lando vaguely knew of you, waving and nodding to you as you rushed around to make sure everything was as it should be. He’d been in the same meetings as you about logistics, you’d explained the scenarios that would take place moving from Bahrain to Italy and how things would operate. He’d asked questions Lando and Carlos never had about how the cars would be packed away and what ways it would change, and you’d appreciated getting to explain how you worked and what you did.

This time was different. The paddock was buzzing for the end of the year and you were avoiding someone who’d been your friend. You’d heard the news he was moving to Red Bull and were delighted for him, but you’d still miss him. So you kept your head down, staring at your reports and working out exactly what was needed in your job to keep things going and get everything back to base when the race finished.

It wasn’t until after qualifying that you were cornered as you walked out of the paddock, badge around your neck, when photographers were suddenly all around you and you realised Danny was striding up to you.

“Want a ride to the hotel?” He asked and you shook your head, but he didn’t take no for an answer as you ended up in his McLaren driving to the hotel you were all staying in.

“I didn’t think I’d get a chance to talk to you. I’m not gone yet, you don’t need to avoid me.”

“I’m not avoiding you…” you trailed off, staring out into the dark night. There were lights on the water from the boats that you tried to focus on instead of the man beside you.

“But every time I try to talk to you you magically have something to do?”

“I’m bad at goodbyes. Ask Carlos, I didn’t say it to him until I saw him in a Ferrari shirt.”

“So when I turn up next year in a Red Bull shirt you’ll say it then?”

“Maybe.”

It was awkward, the drive nearly over when Daniel pulled over, the engine switching off as you stayed staring at the windscreen.

“Will you at least look at me?” He was uncharacteristically quiet and you turned, emotion visible on his face.

“I’m gonna miss you, Danny. More than I thought I would.”

You tried smiling sadly at him, pasting what you thought was a proper smile on your face.

“We can get lunch in the paddock next year? I’ll sneak you into Red Bull hospitality for catering!” It made both of you laugh, the shared jokes around the paddock surrounding that topic not lost on either of you.

“As long as you bring me Tim tams. You got me hooked, did anyone bring any with them?”

“Box of them in my room for you, I asked Mum to bring them with her.”

You were actually smiling now, and his face lit up into the grin you knew so well. Danny’s hand cupped your cheek, long thumb running over your cheekbone as you looked at him.

“Can I?” It was so intimate, the tension rising between you as you stared into his brown eyes.

“Daniel…” you leaned up, and he leaned down to kiss you.

In the quiet of a hotel room you’d let yourself imagine what kissing Daniel Ricciardo would be like. But you never thought your first kiss would be nervous in his car, his hands pulling you closer as you ran fingers through his curls, a slight groan from his throat as they caught. You couldn’t help but grin against his lips as you separated breathing heavily. Daniel paid his sweaty forehead against yours.

“I wanted to do that for a while.”

“Me too.”

The silence was interrupted by his phone ringing, Daniel picking it up and shaking his head.

“Hey Mum…yeah. I’m nearly there. Is there space for someone else? I gave someone a lift back to the hotel, she hasn’t eaten yet. Perfect, we’ll be there in five.” He hung up and turned to you to see your wide eyes. “You never eat in the paddock. And Mum’s never stopped talking about how nice you were to them when you met them, so c’mon.”

How could you reject him when he smiled at you like that? Instead you nodded and settled down so he’d finish driving. Before you got out of the car it was a squeeze of your hands as you got ready to head in.

Dinner was wonderful, a glass of wine your limit because of work the next day. You’d met every Ricciardo who was there at one race or another. Getting to spend time with them outside of a professional setting was an experience you weren’t prepared for, but it was a private room where nobody from work would see you yet. Drinking and laughing with everyone was a lot of fun, Daniel’s arm around the back of your chair making it clear that there was something between you. Grace’s eyes were glancing between the two of you and the easy way you interacted, but you just smiled until it was time for you to leave, waving goodbye. Daniel squeezed your hand in goodbye to make you smile.

The next morning was manic, everyone wanting Danny’s attention and to give him support. You stuck to your plan and got the dismantle list together as you let the chaos unfold around you. It was nice to relax and unwind while everyone else was busy. Michael stood behind you as you worked.

“He’s up in his driver room, asked if you were around.”

“I didn’t think he’d want to be disturbed?” He shook his head, watching you closely.

“You’ve never disturbed him. Go say hi.”

It was easy to slip away and to his room. Two knocks and the door opened for him to see you, his characteristic grin on his face.

“I thought you were ignoring me.” If you hadn’t spent so much time together you’d think he was joking, but instead you knew it was the little insecurities creeping out.

“I didn’t want to distract you.”

“Never.”

He leaned over to kiss you, a smile between the two of you as you separated.

“I wanted to kiss you goodbye last night, but I didn’t think you’d want me to in front of my parents. But I want this to be more than the weekend.”

“So do I.” You leaned up to press your lips to his, sealing your words with a kiss. “I believe in you, Daniel. And I want to believe in us. Outside all this chaos and the paddock we’ve got something. I’ll see you after the race, ok?”

“Definitely.”

He gave you one final kiss, eyes shining and his hand squeezing yours as Michael came around the corner to see the two of you standing there.

“Sorry lovebirds, he’s needed in the garage. Glad to see you’ve finally done something about this tension.”

“Was it that obvious?” You asked, your face starting to heat in embarrassment.

“Lando owes me money, he was convinced neither of you would do anything about it. I figured you would though.”

“Thanks?” Dan said, squeezing your wrist in goodbye before going out. You took a moment to get yourself together before heading out, all smiles thanks to the cameras you knew would be lurking around the garage. No matter what was happening in your personal life it was work that needed to come first.

Standing around in the garage and watching the cars get ready to leave never failed to take your breath away. It was beautiful, the way it seemed like abject chaos but was a tightly choreographed moment. Your orange and black shirt was on display and someone had stuck a Stetson on your head for Danny. He spotted you and smiled. Once everyone was back from the pit lane you found yourself beside Danny’s family. His mother reached over for you to tuck you in with the family.

“How long have you kept that quiet?” She asked as the cars started their formation lap.

“I’m not sure what you—“

“I know my son well. The way he was last night isn’t anything new, so how long have you been together?”

“Last night. We’re still working it out, but we said it just as you called him. We’re working out what’s going on. But it could be something.”

Telling the mother of the man you’d kissed all of four times that you were starting something was hard, but her smile was worth it. You caught sight of a camera watching you as you’d been speaking, nerves hitting you around what people could say seeing you there. It wasn’t unusual to have paddock gossip. But this felt different. It felt special.

Your heart was in your throat as the group of you watched the race. Daniel pitted only once, the mechanics coming in and out for him and Lando as you stared. The screens showed just how close Seb was to him. You hated not wanting Seb to pass him out but those final seconds and watching Danny make P9 made the garage erupt in cheers. Both drivers in points, Daniel making up four places, it was as good a performance as you could dream of. Arms wrapped around you as you cheered and jumped up and down.

The monitors showed him doing donuts alone and you smiled at the display. It didn’t take long for him to arrive back to the garage. You slipped out of the family area to go pretend to be working and keep things private as possible. Grace squeezed your arm as you left, a smile between the two of you.

The garage was a hive of people starting to break down, tyres being returned to Pirelli and people starting to get ready. There were parties happening but you weren’t in the mood for them, too focused on keeping an eye on what was happening.

A hand clasped your wrist and you turned, Daniel standing there and pulling you into a kiss.

“Hey,” you murmured, too aware of the crowds around you despite the wall hiding you.

“I’m not worried if you’re not.”

“Not yet?”

He separated and smiled, awareness clear on both faces. It was beginning to get even busier, parties starting up and down the paddock.

“Come out with me tonight?” He asked and you nodded. “We’re doing a family dinner tonight, Mum wants you there. Michael will be there too. Please? And we can talk about a relationship later? This isn’t just an end of year thing for me.”

You smiled, gripping his hand tightly.

“It’s not just for me either. Let’s go out.” He was surprised as you held onto him to leave your little cubby, eyes on the two of you in the garage.

“I owe Michael so much money,” Lando groaned as he came over and stared at your hands.

“Why were you betting on us anyway?” Daniel asked, his spare hand lifting up his niece.

“What else were we supposed to do? It was a boring year really.”

You just laughed, Daniel pulling you in for a kiss on your forehead. No matter what happened next year with your jobs it felt right, and that’s all you cared about.

[demonqueenart]

You don't have to post this because it's not necessarily the right time but I wanna chuck my input into the ring on the lack of inclusivity with dnp.

These guys apparently cannot be bothered to hire a captioning service for their videos. They can definitely afford it, I think that is abundantly clear. But they don't appear to do it??? At least not for every video. Imo it really is the absolute bare minimum to caption your content but they apparently don't care enough to do it.

I realise this might not be appropriate to share rn because this discussion is about racism and the exclusion of poc, but I thought it was fair to chuck it into the ring as this is also exclusion, but of a different grouo. Also intersectionality. Fyi that I'm white so you're more than welcome not to elevate my voice rn for obvious reasons but this is another example of them being not great from a disability perspective.

I realise that reading all these asks must take so much emotional energy so thank you so much for dedicating the time and energy to facilitate discussion with the care and empathy that you are.

No no no, anon. This should be raised awareness as well. I will not speak on their behalf, because I don’t know if this issue has been raised to them before. But this space should be inclusive to all kinds of people. Thank you for stopping by and being a part of our voice <33

[ID/ a banner with light blue sparkly background; the disability pride flag slides in from the left and darker blue text pops in reading "Make some noise for Disability Pride Month!!" /end ID]

Banner by dapg-otmebytheballs

Auto-message: This ask’s purpose is to acknowledge dnp’s past/present exclusivity, not to cancel them! But to embrace mistakes that they’ve made so that 1. we won’t exclude people in need in this community, and 2. we can normalize bringing up exclusivity so that improvement can happen. Hopefully this will one day help dnp realize that this is a safe space for them to talk about their mistakes, so that this space can become safe for people of all kinds too <3

*If you don’t understand what is happening, scroll through my blog for context. And I’ll be taking time to answer my asks, so don’t think I’m ignoring youuu*

[folkookie97]

❝ karma is coming ❞ — jjk

— SUMMARY: ❝After feeling used by you, Jungkook wants to bring some chaos in your boyfriend's life. Karma is coming and there's nothing Jungkook does better than revenge.❞

— PAIRING: punk!Jungkook x preppy!female reader

— TYPE: suggestive, slight dark | criminal!au

— WORD COUNT: 1,225

— WARNINGS: Past/Secret relationship, Cheating, Criminal!Jungkook, Curses, Argument, Jungkook has a gang, Slight!Toxic Relationship, Open ending, Jungkook wants revenge (but never hurting you), Yoongi is Jungkook's best friend, Mentioned Jack Harlow, Reader is a preppy girl and dates a rich boy (maybe a relationship of convenience)

— NOTES: HEEEEYYY who wants a scenario inspired by the "3D" MV teaser?

— RELEASE DATE: September 28, 2023

— CROSSPOSTING: ao3

"So tell me, little princess.... what I needa do to have one more chance with you?" Jungkook walked at you the moment your feet turned the street corner and you were forced to pass by the dubious quality restaurant.

Like every Friday afternoon, at the same time, Jungkook came to you with his typical bunny smile and sparkling eyes. An expression so cute and for a few seconds it made you forget the big problem behind it.

The perfect mask to disguise a messy and broken soul.

"Jungkook… I'm late." You warned, trying to walk faster to avoid him, but failing miserably when your high heels started to hurt your feet.

Ignoring the boy who competed with him in an amateur chess match, Jungkook got up from the low-budget chair and reached you at almost the speed of light.

You wanted cursing not only your high heels that hurt every inch of your feet, but you also wanted punching Jungkook in his face for his persistence on coming closer to and for daring to look down at your entire body.

"You look really hot today." He smirked, his impure thoughts very clear while his eyes darkened and he ran his tongue between his own lips. "Hotter than ever."

The same compliments as always. The same character flaw and red flags.

"You've been more creative." You rolled your eyes, allowing yourself pausing your walk to avoid any more pain in your skin. If your quick mental calculation was right, you would still have a few minutes to rest when you got home.

"I'm sorry, little princess. But I guess this isn't a good time to say that I wanna see your ass in motion, riding my dick like a 3D video." Jungkook pointed behind him, where his blond and curly-haired friend was watching us with a curiosity and fun mix. "You know… not around Jack at least."

You just rolled your eyes again, trying your best to not be rude and give Jack your middle finger or getting arrested for hitting Jungkook's nose.

As if he was thinking about something, Jungkook poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, nibbling his side piercing in his mouth right after. You saw a flash of sadness pass across the boy's face and you ended up giving into slight worry.

Even though you shouldn't.

"Are you okay?"

His dark eyes lit up again and a regret hit you hard when you saw his dirty smirk return.

"Wow! That's the first time my little princess has worried about me since we broke up."

"I'm not your little princess. And we're not broke up." You snorted and crossed your arms, deciding to walk and do it faster than the Korean man in the black sweatshirt and white stripes. An impossible task since Jungkook would be able to catch up to you immediately even if you were trying hard running away from him.

Jungkook chuckled when he noticed your efforts to free yourself from that talk and from his pathetic praises.

"So we're still together?"

"We never even dated. To be honest I just needed something new since my relationship was boring."

Another scoff left Jungkook's lips and you knew you reached very dangerous ground. When it came to his pride, Jungkook could be a little shit. Hitting his inflated ego was as damaging and dumb like hitting your head against a wall a hundred times.

It was like picking a fight with the Devil and then begging for forgiveness and mercy.

But fate was in his favor. Jungkook would never physically hurt you. Even if his life depended on it.

"So you used me to satisfy your horny that your rich shitty boyfriend wasn't interested?" He stopped walking and you imitated him, shocked not only by his bitter words but also by the hurt following it. "I was just a distraction for a preppy girl with a dick-starved little pussy? Just because her boyfriend was on vacation?"

Your eyes widened and your hands itched to tear out Jungkook's eyes, who was now looking at you with the angrier face possible. His eyebrows furrowed into a frown so deadly it made you feel tiny.

"FUCK YOU! You knew everything from the beginning." You shouted not caring about the people around the street who were entertained by the situation unfolding.

"I thought we'd at least keep fucking around. BUT GUESS WHAT?" It was his turn to shouts. "You seem a lot more interested in being a cockslut and just use your pussy in exchange for expensive gifts from that rich bastard guy."

"At least he has a company that makes a lot of money. And you? You're nothing more than a punk boy who leads your useless life stealing people and picking fights with other gangs out there." You pointed your index finger at him as you shouted the insults pained in your stomach. "I'd rather be a cockslut to someone who has something to provide me with than having a relationship with a man who could be arrested at any moment. You're just a futureless criminal."

No caring about an answer, you gathered all your body efforts and following on your way. Jungkook didn't join you to continue the swearing match and you were relieved for that. You were no longer in the argue mood. You just wanted to get home and cry because of your anger.

It didn't take long for Jungkook returned to the chair where he was sitting before. To his surprise, Jack wasn't sitting there anymore, the place now being used by one of his other friends.

Yoongi had a freshly put out cigarette still in his mouth and a thoughtful look. Jungkook knew his best friend as well as the back of his own hand. That look just would mean one thing; quick reflections.

"What's your great idea?" Jungkook asked him, without beating around the bush due to his bad mood about the previous talk with you.

Chuckled with the cigarette stuck in his teeth, Yoongi used his left hand to brush away his dark hair falling on his face while pulling out his cell with the others free fingers. Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows when the long-haired boy showed him the talk content on the screen. Reading some messages, Jungkook saw that the other boys in his gang also looked interested in Yoongi and Jack's sudden plans.

A wicked smirk took over Jungkook and everything made more sense. Jack's sudden departure to get his van, Yoongi's arrival and even the older man's thoughtful look.

Jungkook felt a heat rise up his back almost immediately. His excitement and enthusiasm for the coming chaos increased the temperature of the sunny street even more. Without blinking, he ripped off the sweatshirt covering his torso, the black tank top underneath it allowing his tattooed arm drawn glances from the girls walking through the neighborhood.

Ignoring the other people's whispers, Jungkook turned to Yoongi with a "thirst for revenge" look. His pretty face doesn't justice to the darkness in his wicked eyes.

"Well… we needa stop at my house first to get my hammer and call (Y/N). I think she'll like to know about our friendly visit to her boyfriend's company."

Yoongi nodded, chuckling and patting Jungkook's shoulder twice. "That's it, little boy. Tell her karma is coming."

[distortionposting]

Shirts And Skins

Jared Hopworth x Stranger!Danny Stoker

Running a gym is harder than expected, but especially when unpleasant clients start causing trouble.

TWs- homophobia (dw it's some rando but queer is used as a slur once), internalized homophobia, canon typical flesh and stranger content (body horror and implied cannibalism)

Also I'm American and know absolutely nothing about gym culture so don't come at me, I just wanna write gay stories lol

------

"What the hell is that tiny twink doing in here?"

The question caught Jared off guard as he snapped out of his daze. He had spaced out while sitting at the reception desk, like he typically did when things were boring. His gym may have been a front to feed on fear, but he still had to run the place like a proper business, boring or not. It had been a longtime dream of Jared's to own a gym, he just hadn't expected running it to be quite so... dull. At least something seemed to be happening now?

"What's going on...?" Jared rumbled groggily, punctuating his question with a yawn. He hadn't sensed any change in the insecurity levels permeating the place, so it wasn't affecting his fear farming. No decreases, so he didn't need to mess with the lights or the music, and no increases, which meant one of the plentiful victims was ready for "harvest." Things were just... blah.

"Are you fucking stupid? I'm asking you what the hell this guy is doing in here!" The irate man, whose biceps were the same size as his shiny bald head, gestured toward a slender figure on the treadmill, wearing a shirt with stripes on it. He wasn't sure what it was, but Jared figured it was some kind of pride flag. He had a hard time keeping up with which one was which, so he never bothered with it. Gender and sexuality hardly mattered when everyone was a walking meat slab. (Though he did admire the dedication some had in the quest to obtain the perfect body.)

Jared watched the stranger jog for a moment, saw no immediate issue with his form, then looked blankly back at the client making the nebulous complaint. This guy's steroids were probably affecting his brain. Clients did get easier to persuade into new shapes after a while of using the stuff, though, but that also meant their tempers got worse and worse... Which meant Jared had to keep them in check.

The man stared at Jared expectantly, gesturing toward the treadmill once again, a little more rude this time. Without a beat, Jared answered. "Well, it looks like he's getting a better leg workout than you. Should work on that too, you look like you've skipped a couple leg days." The swell of self-consciousness coming off his customer made Jared grin. This guy could be sent over the edge from client to victim soon, Jared could practically taste it. These types of gym bros had such frail egos, which made it so easy to mess with them. Essentially, with lax gym rules, they flocked to this place like a fly to honey. It was like working at a fear buffet, and so long as he kept the lights on, he'd never have to worry about his next meal again. Those meatheads that ditched him for the ritual didn't know what they were missing. Not to mention he thought the whole ritual plan was stupid in the first place, a meat hole lacked any kind of imagination. It's like they didn't even try.

A shout from the other side of the room pulled Jared out of his residual anger regarding his recent abandonment, and he quickly realized that the guy he was mocking a second ago was about to go full 'roid rage. Lax rules or not, a fight would attract unwanted attention. Annoyed with the whole situation already, Jared hoisted himself out of his seat and pushed past the growing crowd of gym rats. He was fully prepared to wrench the tinier man from the larger patron's grasp, but to his surprise, the smaller of the two seemed to be holding his ground. This could get interesting.

In this very moment, Danny was facing down the goliath who had unceremoniously turned his treadmill off, pulling the plug at the source. At first he had assumed it was some sort of emergency, like a small personal object had rolled underneath the track, or even an electrical fire, but this was not the case. No, this asshole was just looking for a fight. Danny was hardly bothered, though, he'd been confronted by men this size before and thrown them for a loop, easy-peasy. The big lunk seemed awfully cocky too... Danny decided that a quick stretch wouldn't hurt, especially while this asshole was trying and failing to intimidate him.

"Are you even listening to me?! I said I want you outta my gym, fucking queer!" The man snarled, attempting to shove Danny back mid-stretch. Fortunately, Danny found it all too easy to evade his touch by purposefully dropping to the floor like a rag doll. Not far from the truth of the matter, he thought, contorting himself to be standing on all fours. It was in that very second that Jared realized that he had a Stranger in his gym, and that things were about to get weird.

The instigator stared at Danny in pure shock, and Danny seized the opportunity to have a little fun.

"I'd be listening if you had anything interesting to say!" He twisted his torso around a full 180 degrees, his legs following as if it were an afterthought. At this sight, a handful of the customers bolted out the door. "At least you noticed something right, big boy~" Danny winked at the man, laughing as his opponent's face got redder and redder. Jared wondered if the man might explode if his blood pressure got too high.

Unable to hold back panic and rage any longer, the man attempted to punt the Stranger in front of him, only managing to graze Danny as he deftly somersaulted backward and subsequently skittered up the shelf holding the hand weights, like some sort of feral animal. Danny goaded him on, throwing his head back and laughing between moments of making kissy noises. The man wasn't having any of that, and before anyone else could stop him, he hurled one of the benches in Danny's general direction. Unfortunately for Jared's wallet, the man missed his intended target and knocked down an entire row of exercise bikes, which fell with a terrible crunching noise.

"Alright, everyone get the fuck out of here." Jared bellowed, sending whatever bystanders were left running. They had seen Jared mad a handful of times, and knew better than to stand up to him. Jared was an enormous man, towering over even the strongest power lifter among them. Those who stood against him either disappeared completely or were hospitalized with severe injuries. Danny, however, knew no such fear, and continued his reign of chaos by launching himself directly onto his foe. The man attempted to avoid the sudden blow by turning away from his attacker, only for Danny to cling to the straps of his tank top like a maniacal little rodeo clown. The man scrambled to pull Danny off his back, but was unable to get a proper grasp on him. Bodybuilding came with an unfortunate price: his arms were so swollen that he could no longer reach the small of his back.

Jared attempted to pull the man back toward the office, but lost his grip when the man threw himself backward against the wall instead, desperate to get Danny off his back. Danny didn't seem to be in any distress at all as he was slammed repeatedly against the bricks, but in all fairness, he was gathering a good amount of fear from this nonsense. Jared cursed under his breath, pissed about what he was about to do, but there wasn't enough time to hesitate. The longer this fight went on, the more likely someone was gonna call the police. It had to be shut down RIGHT NOW.

With a single fluid motion, Jared ripped his baggy t-shirt off as easily as if it were made of tissue paper. What might have appeared as a beer gut beneath his tee (though he was not slender by any means) was actually a well hidden second set of arms, equally strong as his openly visible set. Mourning one of the few shirts that fit him decently well, Jared threw himself into the scuffle. His lower set of arms deftly grabbed the instigator's wrists, while his right hand gripped the man's throat, pinning him firmly against the wall. The remaining left hand pried Danny off the man's back as if he were a scruffed kitten. This was done with far less force considering Danny hadn't started this whole incident in the first place... and because most of Jared's strength was being put towards holding the bigot down.

Danny looked Jared up and down, the momentary peace finally giving him the chance to actually see the gym owner up close. Ripped, shirtless, and real handsy, Danny thought, realizing it was an excellent chance to shoot his shot.

"Finally!" He exclaimed, "A man who knows how to handle me!" A sly grin crossed Danny's face as he spoke. "You can handle me anytime. Nice grip."

Jared went bright red, his grasp on the human tightening out of surprise, the tendons in his hand bulging out. The suddenly strangled man gargled in protest, all the while Jared stared back at Danny, mouth hanging open. Girls had tried fawning over Jared a thousand times before, but this felt different. He couldn't figure out why, though... maybe it was all three of his hearts fluttering in unison. He tried desperately to ignore it, which was a little easier when the man he was holding down was trying to escape not one, but two monsters.

"Stop being so annoying, I'm trying to--" Jared growled as the man beneath him thrashed, to no avail against Jared's iron grip. "You know what? Fuck this."

Jared set Danny back on the ground, pointing at him, and then the front door. "Go lock the door and flip the closed sign for me while I shove this jackass in my office. I want a word with you." Danny saluted in response, which elicited a snort from Jared. The little guy was pretty funny, he couldn't deny that. Once everything was properly settled (aside from the muffled screams from the guy locked in the office), Jared sat down on one of the benches, gesturing for Danny to sit next to him. He tried to ignore his racing thoughts regarding the seating situation as well, shaking the idea and his shaggy brown hair out of the way.

"Sorry about your gym," Danny started, idly kicking his legs. "I didn't think I'd cause a scene so soon. I thought I was gonna mess with you, actually."

An abrupt half-snort, half-laugh escaped Jared's lips. Him? Scared? Impossible. "Yeah? " Jared challenged, grinning mischievously at the circus geek next to him. "What were you gonna do, huh?"

Flirtatiously walking his fingers up Jared's massive arm, Danny laid on the classic Stoker charm. "Oh, you know~ Wait until closing time, make you come over and tell me to leave, and just when you're about to tap me on the shoulder..." Danny suddenly let his upper half go slack, his neck hanging at an unnatural angle, like a marionette that suddenly had its strings cut. The surprise of it all made Jared laugh. It definitely wouldn't have scared him by any means, but it was still well executed.

"Hey, that's pretty good, man. The dead-eyed look sells it. Woulda scared the shit outta someone who didn't harvest organs for fun." Jared lightly elbowed him, prompting Danny to pull himself into a more natural position, giggling all the while. Man, that laugh was infectious.

"Do you want any of our extras? I mean, we try to use every bit at the Circus, but even Nikola doesn't really know what to do with a spare gallbladder-- Anyway, I could bring some to you as an apology for wrecking your place? Say... tomorrow at closing time?" Danny looked up at Jared with wide, sparkling eyes. Maybe a little too wide, revealing a sliver of the plastic that kept his frame together.

Jared didn't know what to say. Nobody had offered him anything before. In his life so far, if he wanted something, he had to get it himself, regardless of how legal it might be. It took clawing tooth and nail to get his gym, and he committed plenty of murder in the process. Yet here this Stranger was, wandering directly into his hunting grounds, and apologizing for causing trouble. To say it was a touching gesture was an understatement. Blinking in complete shock, Jared managed to blurt out an astonished "Yes??"

Danny squealed in pure joy, throwing himself against Jared in as big a hug he could give the man. It ended up closer to Danny face-planting himself against Jared's bare chest. Jared blushed again, staring at Danny momentarily before awkwardly giving him a pat on the shoulder. Were all Stranger avatars this touchy-feely? It wasn't that he hated it (though he'd never admit it), it just so happened that Jared wasn't used to this kind of contact. When his ex-friends were still around, the most positive contact he would get was a slap on the back. All of this was so new.

It took a moment of skin-to-peeled-skin contact for Danny to suddenly realize that Jared no longer had a shirt as a result of all the mayhem that had occurred mere minutes ago. Sure enough, the remaining shreds of it laid pitifully on the floor. The idea coagulated quickly in Danny's mind, and he gave Jared's chest a firm, friendly slap. Damn, this guy was solid as a rock under all that muscle.

"I can get you a new shirt too! The Circus is very good with a needle and thread, see?" To prove his point, Danny held his arm up to display his seams, which were almost impossible to see unless you were looking extremely close. Jared had to admit, it was pretty impressive.

"That'd be great," Jared confessed, "Pretty hard to find stuff I like in my size. Or anything in my size, really. Liked that shirt, too."

With a sense of determination, Danny picked up what remained of the shirt to keep as a template. By god, he was going to make things up to this man. "Then it's settled!" Danny announced triumphantly, "I'll bring you dinner and some new clothes tomorrow night, sound good?"

"Er- uh, yeah, sure." Jared stumbled over both his words and emotions, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "And, uh. You don't have to worry about seeing that guy ever again, I'll take care of him." A skillful press to his chin urged a sharp set of teeth forward, tusks much like a boar's erupting from his lower jaw. A crack of the neck, a shake of the head, and Jared looked like a new man.

"On the same note, wanna thank you for finding me an early lunch. Meat is meat, y'know." Jared chuckled and gestured back toward his office, where the locked door was being rattled desperately by the man trapped behind it. His fear was already delectable, but there was nothing like sinking your teeth into a nice, juicy cut of muscle and sinew. Something of a rare treat these days.

He had already thought Jared was particularly attractive, but the sharp teeth stopped Danny dead in his tracks. Sure, he was playfully flirting with the Flesh avatar before, but that smile had him falling hard and fast. If he had a heart, surely it would have been beating in double time. How was he hotter as a monster?! Danny was so doomed. He didn't even know if this man liked guys! Hell, they hadn't even exchanged names yet!

Fuck it, it was now or never. Danny awkwardly stuck his hand out to Jared for a handshake. You know, the most normal thing to do when you want to date a guy. He was already mentally kicking himself, but it was way too late to take this back now. "You can call me Danny."

"Jared," he grunted in reply, his enormous hand engulfing Danny's as he gave a firm shake. "Names don't mean much to me these days, so it's whatever." This made Danny giggle, perplexing Jared in the process.

"Sorry, sorry!" Danny continued to giggle, "It's just, you sound more like the Circus than I do with the whole name thing. My name's the only thing that sticks with me. Nikola says I'm a special case." He shook his head bashfully, letting his arms swing idly at his sides. "You're uh, you belong to Viscera right?"

"That's a real big word when all you gotta say is Flesh. That's me though. The Boneturner." The way Jared enunciated his title could have given Danny the shivers. Why was he so hot??? Even if this guy wasn't interested in men, his looks were going to haunt Danny's thoughts for the rest of his existence.

The electric lights buzzed around them as the tension grew thicker. There was definitely something blossoming between them, though neither could put it to words so soon. The door behind them continued to shake as its occupant tried to free himself.

"You, uh, you should probably take care of that guy, huh?" Danny gave an awkward smile, fidgeting with the t-shirt fabric in his hands. Jared nodded in agreement, feeling the hunger beginning to gnaw at him. The anticipation of a good meal practically had him drooling.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow then...?" Jared trailed off, barely able to tear his eyes away from Danny as he spoke. It was so odd to see a Stranger with such an athletic physique, and the very concept was intriguing to him. Hopefully he'd learn more about him under less hectic circumstances.

"It's a date!" Danny beamed, bouncing on his toes as he made his way toward the door. "Maybe next time you can meet me at my place for gymnastics rehearsal! Bye, handsome~"

And before Jared could protest with so much as a 'no homo', Danny was out of the building. The thought of it festered in the back of his mind as he closed the gym up early. He thinks I'm handsome, was the first concept to sink in, offering a considerable ego boost. Danny saw him passing as a human and a bit of his monstrous form, and it didn't change his opinion a bit. The last time he heard that was from his surrogate mother, Angela, and mothers were basically obligated to say such things, even if she wasn't his real mother. She was just the avatar who helped him get back on his feet again, that's all.

The other phrase took a bit longer to grapple with, It's a date. Jared wasn't completely sure if Danny had meant it in a romantic sense or not, but considering the handsome comment that followed, it seemed pretty damn gay. Was Danny flirting with him? The feelings around that were incredibly murky. On one hand, it was just the two of them who knew, and nobody would ever find out... on the other, if it ever got out, his reputation could be destroyed in an instant, like his father would say. He never quite understood why his father hated queers so much, but the countless news stories and videos of the violence towards them were frightening enough that Jared had tried very hard not to be anything like that. He had wanted to make his father proud.

Granted, he had been kicked out for the weird magic bone book instead. The fear was still there, though.

You know what, Jared suddenly decided, This is too much to think about on an empty stomach or three. He had left his meal stewing in fear for long enough, it was high time he had a bite. This doubt was due to low blood sugar, surely that was it. Yeah, he'd be fine, the gay thoughts would go away if his head was clear. Definitely.

Forcing himself to relax, the crackle of bone could be heard beneath layers of muscle. The sharp edges jutted out of Jared's skin deliberately, just as artfully as he had intended. The perfect form was never quite complete by design, but he always did feel better appearing precisely how he wanted in the moment. He was bone-chilling, threatening, and no one in the world would ever dare touch him. Even better, he'd be able to show off the truly terrifying look to his latest victim.

Bon Appétit.

[rjalker]

The first 30 pride cefusas. Possibly I should have kept a small flag in each to show what the flag looks like but it's too late for that now lol.

Please send me more pride flags so I can color pick them from my phone. you can put them in a post and @ me if you want

some of the colors I tried to adjust a bit to make them less eye-burning.

These are all public domain, you can use them for anything you want. Including just slapping it on top of the original flag to use as a mascot :)

Please consider donating to a Palestinian relief fund if you want to say thanks. And for every $10 you donate, you can send me a color scheme or theme of your choice, and I'll make a public domain character based on that! It can be another cefusa, a dragon, a quadrupedal cat, an anthro cat, a werewolf, a unicorn, a bat person, and more!

I have 6 more to post so far but 30's the limit of images in a single post. So they'll all be tagged as "Pride cefusa"

If at least $100 are donated with proof sent to me, which doesn't all need to be one person, I will make a side blog dedicated to posting these and give them each their own individual posts for people to reblog!

[ID: 30 different versions of lineart of a cefusa, a medieval beast with a dog like head and tail, and the hands and feet of a human, posed against a grey background with a smile. Each version is colored based on a different pride flag, which is listed above it.

They are, in order:

1: Transxeno, colored gold, orange, magenta, and dark magenta. The main body is gold, with purple and orange stripes on the legs, face, and down the spine and tail.

2: Autistic butch, colored dark blue, periwinkle blue, pale blue, red, gold, and orange. The main body is dark blue with a white stripe down the spine and small white specks like stars, with lighter blue 5 pointed stars above the arms and legs, and solid blue below. The feet and hands are dark blue with more white stars, and the face, fingers, and tail are red, orange, and gold like fire from the sun.

3: Intersex, with gold and purple. The main body is gold, with a large purple ring on the back, around the eye, and purple rings on the ankles and wrists and stripes on the tail.

4: Aroace lesbian, with white, dark purple, light purple, teal, and very dark blue. The main body is dark purple, with a lavgender belly, a white stripe on the spine, dark blue stipes on the arms and legs, and the lower arms and legs teal.

5: Ace, with black, white, grey and purple. The main body is black, covered in large grey splotches and smaller purple and white stars. The ankles are solid black, with solid purple feet.

6: Aro, with white, grey, black, light green, and green. The main body is black, with a white and green stripe down the spine, grey feet, grey and white stripes on the belly, and green chevrons on the arms and legs.

7: Bi, with purple, magenta, and dark blue. The main body is dark blue, with a purple torso and magenta belly, with magenta and purple stripes on the legs, and a diamond pattern on the back.

8: Aroace, with white, yellow, orange, blue and dark blue. There is a large white stripe on the back, then gold, and an orange belly, with dark blue upper arms and legs, and light blue on the lower arms and legs.

9: Neutrois, with black, green and white. The main body is green, covered in black and white splotches.

10: Aliagender, with dark purple, orange, and green. The main body is green, with purple and orange stripes and alternating stripes on the arms and legs, with an orange belly.

11: Female to Null, with black, dark grey, grey, and pink. The body is mostly splotches in the different shades of grey and black, with a few pink highlights on the belly, spike, toes and fingers, and behind the eye.

12: Male to Null, which is the same as the Female to Null, but with blue highlights.

13: Transnull, with very dark grey purple, dark magenta, magenta, light purple, and very pale purple. The main body is very pale purple, covered in stripes of purple, with black hands, feet, and belly, and stars of magenta and black.

14: Transfeminine, with dark pink, pink, very light pink, and blue. There is a blue stripe down the spine and thin blue stripes on the wrists and ankkles, and the main body is dark pink, with lighter pink jagged stripes like fur.

15: Transmasculine, with sky blue, light blue, very pale blue, and pink. It is similar to the transfemining flag, but with stripes almost shaped like pennant flags rather than fur.

16: Trans Woman, with red, pink, and very light pink. The main body is pink, with red splotches on the back and strips on the tail, with thin red and pink stripes on the arms and legs, and a pale pink belly.

17: Trans Man, with dark blue, blue, and very light blue. There is a ragged dark blue stripe along the spine, and solid stripes on the elbow and knee, and over the eye. The main body is blue, with a pale blue belly and solid stripes on the wrists and ankles.

18: Werestar, with black, dark purple, light tan, and tan-gold. The main body is black with solid purple belly and stripes on the elbows and knees, with tan and gold-tan stripes along the spine and above the wrists and ankles.

19: Werewolf, with dark brown, brown, purple, and dark purple. The main body is dark brown, with a lighter brown belly, tail, and hands and feet, with dark purple stripes on the back and arms and legs outlined in the lighter purple, so that they seem to glow.

20: Werewolfkin, with dark brown, tan, amber orange, and gold. The belly is tan outlined in white, with ragged edges, with gold and orange stripes along the spine, and stripes of all the colors up and down the arms and legs.

21: Bearkin, with dark brown, black, warm brown, off-white, grey, and blue-grey. The arms and legs are striped black, grey, blue-grey, and white, with black, brown, and warm brown hands and feet. The back is striped in similar colors.

22: Genderqueer, with dark green, white, and lavender purple. The main body is green, with alternating thick stripes of white or purple on the legs, with thinner stripes of the other color above and below. The belly is white with thin purple stripes, and there are diamond patterned white and purple stripes along the spine.

23: Trans, with black, purple, blue, pink, brown, white, yellow, darker purple, and gold. The main body is black, with many different styled stripes in the other colors. There are yellow and purple stripes along the spine, outlined in white. The legs are striped in alternating zig-zag and solid stripes of each color, the belly starts out brown with an outline of white, then goes to ragged blue and pink. The tail is purple, black, and tipped with brown.

24: Sulpherian, with black, red, gold, and blue. The main body is black, with large zig-zag stripes on the shoulder and hip, thinner gold stripes on the elbows and knees, blue stripes on the wrists and ankles, and red vertical stripes on the hands and feet. The spine and tops of the ears are striped with blue, with a thin gold highlight along the back.

25: Xenogender pastel, with pastel red, pink, orange, yellow, blue, darker blue, and purple, covered entirely in different, overlapping splotches of color.

26: Xenogender dark, with the same pattern as the xenogender pastel, but with deep shades of red, lighter red, orange, gold, blue, and purple.

27: Stellarian, with black, grey, pale yellow, very pale green, and pale green. The main body is grey with black five pointed star shapes, some colored in pale green, with yellow and green stripes down the back and legs, with black stripes above the knee and ankle.

28: Quoiromantic, with black, grey, blue, and green. The main body is black, with squiggly stripes of grey, blue, and green.

29: Transvoid dark, with dark berry red, teal, white, blue, and deep violet. The stripes are horizontal starting at the back and waving downwards, with berry red, then teal, white, blue, and violet

30: Transvoid pastel, with the same pattern as the transvoid dark, but with pastel red, green, white, very pale blue, and light grey.

End ID.]

__

and I will reiterate again:

For every $10 donated to a Palestinian relief fund, you can send me a color scheme or theme of your choice, and I'll make a public domain character based on that! It can be another cefusa, a dragon, a quadrupedal cat, an anthro cat, a werewolf, a unicorn, a bat person, and more!

You are explicitly encouraged to download and share these. I'll have them all uploaded to the Internet Archive at some point, but you can even upload them there yourself if you want!

[candys-writing-blog]

Chapter 2 of my Animal HRT story

View the full Google doc here.

Chapter 2

The morning light filtered into my bedroom through the pride flags draped over my windows, giving the sunshine a tint of rainbow colors barely noticeable to the naked eye. I lay face-down on the bottom mattress of my bunk bed, one hand gripping the sheets, the other still resting on the snooze button of my alarm clock. Man, what a crazy dream. I thought as I sighed, before rolling out of bed. 

I stood up and stretched before grabbing my phone off of my desk. I skimmed through my notifications, stepping over the dirty clothes and assorted junk scattered around my bedroom floor as I walked out my door, across the hall, and into the bathroom to take my morning pills. I looked at myself in the mirror when I got there. My blueish-grey eyes, pale skin, and dirty blonde hair looked the same as they always had. My hair had gotten to about shoulder-blade length in the two years I’d let it grow out, helping me fit more into the feminine look I’ve longed for.

I rubbed my hand over my chin, feeling the little hairs beginning to poke out from my pores. Ugh, gotta shave again. I thought as I reached for my razor. I arched my neck back to stretch the skin before I started shaving. The dark little hairs falling away as I drag the blade against the grain of my stubble. 

As I got into the repetitive motions of shaving, I began to think back on the dream I’d just awoken from. It seemed so real I thought as I pulled the razor up over my jaw. I could almost hear the clanging of the weapons, and feel the rush of air through my fur. I could imagine that the razor in my hand was the tip of my opponent’s sword, barely grazing and trimming my whiskers as I dodged. Or perhaps, it was my own sword, swinging at the foe ahead of me, each thrust with the steel blade bringing me closer towards them, dragging my paws through the dirt below me as I readied the deadly weapon to draw my opponent’s blood- “OW!”

With a sting of pain, I dropped the razor into the sink below me. A trickle of blood began to drip from the small cut on my cheek. Great. I thought as I reached for the box of tissues on the cluttered marble countertop. I tore the corner off one and stuck it on the small cut. I took a few more seconds to run my hand over my now smooth face, making sure I hadn’t missed a spot before I had cut myself. I then stepped back to look over my body in the mirror.

My belly was still noticeably chubby, much more so than I would have liked, but the small feminine bumps on my chest were finally starting to make themselves known, so at least a little bit of the chub’s been redistributed. I could also see a bit of pinching inwards around my waist, which boosted my spirits quite a bit! I’d known I was a woman for a while now, but I was finally beginning to look like one too. Hah, take THAT dysphoria! I thought with a smirk. The smirk quickly faded when I spied the little piece of tissue on my cheek, a bit of blood starting to soak through it. I really need to get more shaving cream. I thought with a sigh.

Shaking my head slightly, I picked up my pill case and dumped today’s contents into the palm of my hand. Two anti-anxieties, one anti-boy-otic, I thought as I tossed the pills into my mouth, washing them down with a swig of water. And finally, one tit-tac. I chuckled as I looked down at the little blue pill between my fingers, before gingerly placing it under my tongue. With a final look in the mirror, I opened the door and started back towards my room to get dressed for class.

I threw on a pair of black leggings, a cute pink skirt, a pair of trans flag thigh highs, a teal V-neck tee shirt, and a long-sleeved pink flannel shirt overtop. I then buckled my pink fanny pack around my waist, put on a sparkling Citrine necklace, stuck my “Please use She/Her Pronouns” pin on my shirt, and put on my pink and blue glasses. I slid my phone and my wallet into the fanny pack, and with a flick of my hand to get the hair out of my face, I headed out of my room and down the stairs.

“Morning,” I said to my mom as I walked into the kitchen. She was sitting at the table, drinking her morning coffee, and tapping away at her phone, no doubt playing that dumb cooking game of hers, as per usual. “Well, someone’s up early.” Mom said, not even lifting her eyes from her phone. “Early enough to have some breakfast before running out the door?” 

“Actually, I woke up on time today,” I said, opening the fridge. “That old digital alarm clock you found in the basement managed to do the trick. And yes, I will be having some breakfast.” I grabbed a pre-packaged breakfast sandwich from the fridge, removed the wrapper, and tossed it in the microwave for a couple of minutes.

“Have some fruit too,” my mom said, still playing her game. “We got some grapes a few days ago, and nobody’s eaten them yet. I don’t want them going bad.” “Sure thing,” I said, opening the fridge back up and grabbing some grapes out of the fruit drawer. “Y’know,” I said, popping a grape into my mouth, “That alarm clock interrupted a really interesting dream of mine.”

“Oh, yeah?” My mom asked, still playing her game.

“Yeah, I’d dreamt that I was my character, Krystal,” I said, leaning back on the fridge. “Y’know, from that story I’m writing?”

“Uh-huh,” she said, nodding her head, not looking up from her phone.

“It seemed so real. As though I could feel the sun on my fur, the breeze on my tail, the dirt under my paws.”

“Mhm,” Mom said, still tapping away at her phone’s screen.

“Yeah…” I tossed another grape into my mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. “I was fighting in some sort of medieval tournament,” I said with the chewed-up grape muffling my speech. I swallowed before continuing. “I was fighting this wolf guy. He was using a sword, and I was using a mace, and I won! The king was gonna have a feast in my honor at the castle, but then-”

“OH, GOD DAMMIT!!” my mom shouted, making me jump.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, concerned.

“Nothing, nothing,” she replied. “I just messed up this guy’s order and failed the level. What were you talking about, Andrew?”

A pang of hurt stabbed through my chest at the sound of that name. A name that was no longer my own. A name that I never wanted to hear again. “N-Nothing, mom,” I said, looking down at the floor. “Absolutely nothing…”

Beep!                   Beep!                   Beep!                   Beep!

I opened the microwave and pulled out my breakfast sandwich, walked over to the living room where I sat down on our blue faux leather couch, and turned the TV onto the news channel, intending to check the weather as I ate. I guess I’ll watch and see what’s going on in the world today too. I thought as I took a bite from my sandwich. Let’s see… War in a foreign country, the threat of nuclear war, presidential debate between horrible person A and horrible person B, Natural Disaster, Man-made Disaster, yada, yada, yada… 

When it became obvious that the weather wasn’t going to be on for a while, I pulled out my phone and checked social media as I ate. I looked at memes and art and scrolled past the usual hate and drama and some weirdo conspiracies about scientists putting chemicals in vaccines to turn people into monsters. The usual internet nonsense, until something on the TV caught my attention.

“Last night, the remains of one Paula Jankens were found in the Pymatuning Reservoir, just off the shore from Jamestown, PA. Paula, who had been missing for two days before her recovery, was a 16-year-old transgender girl who called Jamestown her home. Authorities say there is no doubt in their minds that this was a murder, and that they are currently suspecting a hate crime as a motive. Reports say that Paula was found to have been dismembered, and her remains were scattered in the lake in an attempt to hide the evidence. Her parents-”

I turned off the TV, shaking. Another trans girl, murdered, and so close to my home… I thought, the fear rising in my chest. That… that could have been me. That poor girl… She was just like me, and I could be next! For a few minutes, I sat there on the couch, in complete silence. Frozen, without moving a muscle. Something that I notoriously have a very difficult time doing, silently panicking, my breath coming in quick bursts as my mind races at a million miles per hour. Rage, fear, sadness, anxiety, disgust, and dysphoria all rampaging through my head, tearing the place up as I sat there, unmoving. Completely tuned out from the outside world until-

“HEY!” my mom shouted, clapping her hands in front of me. “Are you okay? You’re gonna be late for class at this rate.” “Uh, y-yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I just need to go brush my teeth.” My mom walked back to the kitchen table, saying something, but I wasn’t listening. I stood up and made my way back up the stairs to my bathroom, placing my hands on the counter and staring at my reflection in the mirror, only to see *him* looking back at me. The person I’d been trying to escape from for so long now. I shut my eyes and lowered my head, trying to ignore my reflection. I’m not him, and he’s not me, so why do I still see him???

With a sigh, I reached for the bottle of pills on the counter—the hard stuff, for emergencies only, when you’re actively panicking. I tossed one in my mouth and washed it down with a cup of water. Taking a deep breath, I stood up straight, and while avoiding eye contact with the mirror, I grabbed my toothbrush, brushed my teeth, swished some mouthwash around for thirty seconds, spat it out, and headed back downstairs.

I slipped on my Hot Pink Conberse shoes and grabbed my backpack off of the banister before opening the front door. “Mom, I’m headed out!” I shouted over my shoulder. “Okay, have a good day!” her voice responded from the Living room. Closing the door, I walked outside and stopped momentarily to smell the fresh air, before getting into the front seat of my car. Closing the door, I shut my eyes and did some deep breathing for a good twenty to thirty seconds. I then pulled out my phone, plugged it into the car, turned on my playlist, and started the engine. Little did I know, that if I had waited in the doorway for just a few moments more, I would have heard a very interesting news report. 

“And now for something seemingly straight out of a Sci-fi movie. a select number of clinics in major cities have begun to offer a new kind of hormone treatment for those who don’t feel comfortable in their own skin. Here’s Jonah with the report.”

Dedicated to 

Pauly A. Likens

Rest in Power

2009-2024

Thank you for reading! (^w^) If you enjoyed this and wanna see more, you can check out the doc that I'm writing here! (You'll also be able to see the fun stuff I did with the fonts there)

I hope you enjoyed, and please feel free to leave any comments on the doc or in the replies here. I WANT FEEDBACK, PEOPLE!!!

Thank you again for reading, and have a wonderful rest of your day! :3

[can-i-see-your-passport-please]

SWEET VOICE COLOR HEADCANONS BECAUSE I'M NORMAL AND FINE

Now, I think that Sweet Voice... can't FULLY be encapsulated in English. The colors do mean general emotions, yes, but also different shades of one color can mean different things, and most importantly, every bubble of Sweet Voice is a thought. You can't just generalize a stream of consciousness into a rhyme without cutting out a lot.

Tommy's rhymes work, but they aren't the whole story. What EXACTLY Benrey's trying to communicate depends a LOT on context, and relying PURELY on the rhymes can mean a lot is lost in translation. This can also be at least confusing when it comes to a color like orange, which is notoriously hard to rhyme, but can be very important to communicate.

However: once again, colors mean specific emotions, and remembering combinations through rhymes can be helpful, and also it's just easier. Context matters, of course, and relying completely on the rhymes can be very unhelpful, but... it's like knowing that a recipe needs specific ingredients. Like, a cake generally needs sugar, flour, eggs, and baking soda/powder. Specific quantities may vary, and there may be more or less of an ingredient, new stuff may be added, some may be removed. And of course, what KIND of cake you're baking can change the ingredients a lot. But knowing the base of what a cake needs can be helpful.

I'm not completely sure if this metaphor is getting what I mean across. What I mean is: knowing the base emotion behind a color can be helpful, though it won't get the exact stream of consciousness across. A translator can elaborate on the thoughts in each bubble (with permission of the SV user), but generally knowing the colors and what they mean is helpful. But again - context matters.

With that being said...

THE WHOLE PRIDE FLAG

Red - Fear and danger. Often used as a warning, like a caution sign. Light shades of red can mean just nervousness, but vibrant red is a sign of fear. Tastes like medicine and caffeine.

Orange - Pain. The pain can be mental or physical, but no matter what the type, orange means pain. If the SV user is singing in orange, it's a sign they need some kind of support. The taste is hard to figure out, because it burns like acid. Best guess of any taste is blood.

Yellow - Guilt and self-hatred. While orange can be used for physical or mental pain, you still need to guess which one, and the singer can easily lie about which kind of pain it is. Yellow sidesteps that. If you see yellow, the SV user is in mental distress and needs comfort. Tastes like mango.

Edit (12/04/2023): I'm changing yellow to something different! I'm a better writer now, and have a better definition that can be used more.

Yellow - Power. It can be the type of power that corrupts you, that tears you apart from the inside out. But power is not exclusively bad. It can and must be used, dare I say it, responsibly. To protect, to support, to help others and make their lives easier. Tastes like salmon.

Green - Safety and reassurance. Used as a white flag, or a way to reassure someone that they're not going to get hurt. Can also be used as a sign of feeling safe and happy in your surroundings. Tastes like chocolate.

Blue - Thoughts and relaxation. An indication that the person is thinking about something, turning it over in their head. One of the most common colors used. Lots of blue usually means the person is thinking very deeply. Tastes like blue raspberry. Blue is a bit of a unique one in the bunch, as it can actually affect one's body. All Sweet Voice can do that, to an extent- being hit with red makes you feel some of the fear they do, and orange makes you feel a smidge of the pain they feel- but blue is the most effective at this. Being hit with blue will make your muscles relax, and usually helps your thoughts calm down as well. It can sometimes even dull pain (though not healing it).

Teal - Healing and recovery. Closely related to blue- teal can affect the body quite strongly when combined with black or green, and helping someone relax is helping them recover, in a way. However, they ARE different. While blue is most effective at calming someone down by itself, teal is most effective when combined with another color. Tastes like mint.

Teal and green (heal beam) will usually help speed up a healing process, helping cuts stitch themselves back together, bruises fade, broken bones heal. There are limitations, of course. Heal beam speeds up a healing process to help you recover, and can't help you, say, regrow limbs. Using heal beam consumes energy as well (it's one thing to just use Sweet Voice, it's another to use its power to heal someone.)

Purple - Joy and blissfulness. A sense of peace and happiness with the world, with oneself, even just with the moment. Lighter shades of purple usually mean more energetic happiness, while darker shades usually mean more calm, sleepy peace. Tastes like ice cream.

Pink - Love. Platonic, familial, romantic, pink means love. Different shades of pink can mean different kinds of love, but as there are basically infinite types of love, you cannot nail down specific shades to mean specific types of love. It's fluid. Indescribable delicious taste. [He tends to use this when trying to protect someone - literally surrounding them in his love to keep them safe. He uses this a lot around the team especially.]

OTHER COLORS

White - Numbness. When you feel everything so much that your brain just shuts down, and you can't feel anything at all except lethargy. (Based on the fact that if you put all light colors together, it just makes white.) Tastes like TV static.

Grey - Confusion. Sometimes used as a quick way to ask a question, sometimes used as a quick way to say you don't understand. There is symbolism here. Tastes like noodles.

Black - Anger. Tastes like pen ink. Unpleasant. The most pure anger is completely black, like a void. [Usually, Benrey's anger is playful. Not serious, joking around, silly. When he's pouting, getting overly annoyed about something, whining like a child... It's not genuine anger. And if it seems like he's angry and he's yelling, it's most likely an expression of something else. Benrey's genuine anger is quiet. Silently stewing in the corner, completely quiet, ink-black Sweet Voice leaking out of his mouth. You can swear his shadow is shifting and changing, despite how still his body is. He's not screaming and whining, he's completely silent. His gaze is fixed at a single point. And when he lets that anger out... It is never pretty.]

Brown - Negative emotion in general. Sometimes you're feeling so much negative emotion that you can't just place one label on it all. It's so much hurt that your mind feels muddy. Brown often comes mixed in with other colors meaning negative emotions, but often it can exist by itself. Tastes... confusing.

Rainbow - Basically the equivalent of your brain breaking. Not to be mixed up with confusion- this is more like when you try to say something, but jumble your words together, or when you're feeling so many things at once that no one color combo works. Tastes like everything.

WEIRD LITTLE FACTS AND OBSERVATIONS

Warm and monochrome shades tend to be more negative emotions (with the exception of grey and yellow, but again, context matters), while cooler shades tend to be more positive emotions.

The more vibrant a color, the stronger the emotion. For example, vibrant pale purple usually translates to strong excitement, and vibrant pink translates to deep love. And the duller a color, the weaker the emotion. Going back to purple, dull purple usually means something along the lines of "oh that's cool."

You cannot lie through Sweet Voice. You can lie about what the colors mean, and you can suppress what thoughts are shown, but that doesn't mean the thoughts aren't there. It just means they're quieter. Sweet Voice is pure thought and emotion. It's laying bare your current mindstate, hiding that is hard. The only way to for sure not show someone specific thoughts is through not using Sweet Voice, which is very hard. The safest way to do that is holding back the Sweet Voice until you can let it all out later (which has a high chance of failure with all the Sweet Voice coming out all at once). The most effective way to do that is physically swallowing the Sweet Voice back, which is usually painful.

I cannot stress this enough: SWEET VOICE IS PURE THOUGHT AND EMOTION. Every bubble of Sweet Voice is at least one thought, and depending on how stuffed your mind is, it can be several thoughts. Sometimes it's one thought, repeated in several bubbles. The point is: the color is the emotion, the bubbles are the thoughts.

Sweet Voice is generally used for quick communication of certain things. For example: say you and your gang can all use Sweet Voice, and you're currently separated. From farther away, you hear someone use Sweet Voice. You turn, and see one of your friends is using red. Your group quickly races over, and they explain the danger. Or say someone is trying to explain an idea, but can't figure out how to put it into words, so instead they use Sweet Voice, and you can read their thought process. That is the biggest evolutionary purpose of Sweet Voice.

Learning Sweet Voice is INCREDIBLY difficult, but possible. It's basically a second language, except you're on nightmare mode. After all, learning how to read Sweet Voice is learning how to read someone's thoughts, their emotions, basically their soul. Which is not easy. However, learning Sweet Voice is not impossible. It just takes a fuckload of time.

You can't learn how to SPEAK Sweet Voice. It comes from a gland in the back of your throat that humans don't have, and you can't just put that in the back of your throat or use magic alien hormones to grow it. If you tried to take alien HRT you would probably die lol

If you just took audio of Sweet Voice, you wouldn't be able to translate the exact thoughts. However, if you took video with NO audio of Sweet Voice, you still wouldn't be able to translate it. Translation relies on both audio and visuals, unless you are ABSURDLY fluent.

This is ABSOLUTELY not consistent throughout my art and writing, however I do not have the energy to care. Also Tumblr is so mean for not having a different shade of blue

EDIT (12/04/2023): I HAVE MORE BITCH I HAVE COLOR ASSOCIATIONS WITH THE SCIENCE TEAM

I don't associate Darnold with orange and feel he shoulda been red, and so red he is- red is the color of fear, the color used to signal danger. And Darnold is the most cautious, the only one to take the VERY FUCKING REASONABLE fear of the Rescas and military, and chose to just fucking leave! And fucking good for him!!

Bubby is associated with teal, the color of healing. Bubby would definitely be REALLY FUCKED UP after getting out of his tube and getting out of Black Mesa as a whole. He would be going from constant supervision and inability to leave a confined space, to freedom to move around Black Mesa but still constant supervision and inability to leave, to total freedom and no oversight from Black Mesa. Bubby would need to heal really fucking bad after all of that!! Healing and growing and becoming better is a necessity for him, and has been since he was freed from his GOD DAMN TUBE

Tommy is associated with yellow, the color of power (and the main reason i changed yellow). Tommy is one of the most powerful of the team, able to overpower and gun down 300 clones on his own, while also keeping Gordon alive. Depending on your interpretation, he's at least a little nonhuman, being either related to or adopted by FUCKING GMAN. In my mind, he is a representation of the good power can do, while at least in canon not having yet gained control over it (see: this is all instinct mr freeman i'm scared).

Benrey is associated with blue, the color of thoughts and relaxation. And my reasoning for this is fairly simple! Benrey's a chill guy, just wants to play games with his friends. But in my beautiful world, he's jam-packed with so many thoughts (except when he thinks nothing). Benrey's a chill dude who likes chilling, who's also got a buncha thoughts in his silly brain.

Coomer is associated with green, the color of safety. And this does work well for him! Dr Coomer is, at the end of the day, a safe person to be around. He does try to help, even though his AI is SEVERELY bugged out. The clone fight is an exception to this (and there, his text was surrounded by red, color of fear, my god the symbolsim), but even after THAT, he still did move to try and help Gordon, reassuring him that he was safe, and wouldn't hurt him ("Don't let my bloody form frighten you, Gordon. It's me, your friend, Dr Coomer!"). Coomer is a chaotic person, yes, but at the end of the day, he's a safe person. One of these days I will write an essay on how those little moments of kindness in HLVRAI and them so good I'm normal

(Additionally for all the old man yaoi fans: green is safety and teal is healing. Boomer colors are literally safety and healing)

Gordon is a bit of a complicated case. I associate him with orange during and before the Rescas, but purple after it, after he starts healing. And I have good reason for this: orange is associated with pain, and purple with happiness. And during the Rescas (arguably beforehand too), Gordon was constantly in some form of pain. Even putting aside the physical pain of being in The Worst Suit Ever, he was under the stress of trying to keep himself and all his teammates alive. That is PAINFUL.

But (HL2VRAI HAS NOT COME OUT AT TIME OF WRITING AND I AM IGNORING ITS EXISTENCE) as time went on after the rescas... Gordon healed. He got better. He becomes a more self-actualized person, becomes happier with himself. He gets out of the Rescas alive, and heals from it after all the bullshit, with the help of the friends he made along the way who love him so, so, so much.

Which brings me to something else- I associate the Science Team all with specific colors, yes. But as a whole, I associate them all with one color: pink. The Science Team is, at the end of the day, built on love. They all love each other so, so much.

It's shown in how Gordon constantly worries about them all and tries to protect them, keeping them out of the way of danger, letting Coomer use the HEV charger before him. (Hell, even with Benrey, who he despises, he worries about him constantly. He yells for him to not run into danger, and is clearly INFURIATED when Forzen kills him.)

It's shown in how Darnold, someone who clearly doesn't really like Gordon all that much, still moved to help him, to give him back his arm and keep him alive, even when he clearly found Gordon at least somewhat irritating.

It's shown in how Dr Coomer, a minute after trying to murder Gordon in a desperate attempt to be free of the game, upon seeing just how much distress he was in, moved to reassure him: I won't hurt you. I am your friend.

It's shown in how Bubby, after everything, helped Gordon after they reunited (and didn't throw Benrey under the bus for the things that happened).

It's shown in how Benrey clearly loves Gordon in some way, and how he tells the skeletons to not hurt Tommy, and sings pink at Tommy when he first sees him.

It's shown in how Tommy, in an attempt to comfort Gordon after the nightmare that just happened, offered him a soda.

The Science Team is built on love.

[dreaming-of-the-end]

middles, endings, and other things that start at the beginning

A/N: Happy Kotlc Pride Month! thanks to @kotlcpridemonth now we have June 24: Fairytale. Hekster! I tried something new :] if this doesn’t make sense, good! you’re reading it correctly.

[ao3]

Summary: "Go away," Sophie whispers to her hopes and dreams. Perhaps they are of freedom, but no one in this godforsaken town has experienced the fulfillment of a wish in over a century. This is not something to reach for. "You're making this so much worse."

TW: there’s blood mentions, and mentions of violence and such but nothing serious

Taglist: @steppingonshatteredglass @sunset-telepath @melanie-schmelanie  @stardustanddaffodils  @song-tam @turquoise-skyyyy @skylilac @wu-marcy  @saintashes  @rune-and-rising @lavender-and-rainy-days @confusedamphibian @hellomyfriends @cadence-talle @callas-starkflower-stew @a-harmless-poison  @professionalwhalewatcher @theogony @gay-otlc  @confuzzled-fox @almostfullnerd @athenswrites @synonymroll648 @squishmallow36 @xanadaus

(the storybooks predicted this. they begin, 'once upon a time,' an end that has already occurred. can you feel it? feel the change coming? feel the end becoming a beginning again? it begins with once upon a time. dream the story. feel it drifting around you and form it into names, lives, loves. what is her name?)

Her name is Sophie.

(what's next?)

Sophie Foster unsheathes her sword.

(and...?)

Sophie Foster unsheathes her sword and hacks into the vines spreading from their thicket into the grassy field. It is a defensive war, one she has been fighting since the beginning. Every year, a new crop of soldiers are handed swords and assigned to vine duty.

Stop them from spreading, read their instructions, and nothing else.

By now, she can probably be called a veteran, which means the days are all the same and she's begun to name the vines just for something to do. Steven, Nancy, and Reynaldo are her current least favorites.

(do you get it? the vines are the stories. the thorns are the words. she must stop the end before it begins. you see it, now?)

The sun attacks the back of her neck like it's bored of today, too. The soldiers don't need armor for this job, so at least it beats guard duty. That's the only positive, though, with this task that is simultaneously mind-numbing and incredibly dangerous.

All they do, day in and day out, is drive their blade into the hungry plants that creep forward, greedily snatching for ankles. Sophie thinks jealously of how Fitz is a teacher instead of a soldier, which means he gets to wrangle children instead of hyperactive flora.

Not that it seems like a more enjoyable option. It's not like he can stab them if they're too annoying.

Sophie stomps on another mischievous vine and beheads it.

(by framing the task in this way, she pretends she is important. she pretends she is beheading a dragon.)

"Aha!" shouts the triumphant hero. In this moment, she is transformed. The sun is no longer a bored foe but cresting her head to light up her golden-streaked hair. Her loose white shirt becomes a silken cape flowing in the breeze, the sheath on her waist holding a sword so polished and intricate it would be a pity to use in battle. A streak of blood slides down her cheek from a close call with the dragon's razor-sharp talons. Her arms do not ache to lift anymore, and standing is not a chore.

Heroes, after all, do not tire, or flag, or want more.

(if she wants to go blind, this is a good idea. she does it, however, not to go blind, but to tell the time. it's not exactly counting down the minutes, but it will do.)

And then she is Sophie again, letting the tip of her blade sink into the soft soil, even though she knows that will dull it. She swipes sweat from her forehead and feels the premature wrinkles formed there from squinting into the sun so many times every day.

She doesn't know, exactly, where the vines come from. Sophie was born into a world where the vines were there, and a previous generation of soldiers were the ones keeping them back. She learned and trained to fight as a soldier in whatever wars were necessary, and instead she's here. Because there aren't any other foes, aren't any other wars.

She is a wall in a battle where the enemies are made to find cracks and slip through them. That may, in fact, be their only purpose.

Being a nuisance, that is. That's their purpose. They're like if Keefe Sencen was condensed into a long, green, skinny plant and lost the ability to speak.

"Heel!" Sophie orders the vines. They shoot forward twice as fast, and she's forced to take evasive maneuvers to swipe them away before they wrap around her calves and engulf her completely.

(in this story, the plants are the predators. the plants are the story. get it? she is the prey of the story. she has to fight back, to end the end before it finds itself back at the beginning. don't ask for clarity. she certainly doesn't understand the metaphor, and she's the protagonist.)

"You should be trained, somehow," she says helplessly, and the vines seem to laugh at her. "It's not funny."

She's gotten into this habit, talking to herself. Weaving stories out of nothing to pass the time. It's not counting minutes, but it'll have to do. The plants don't care, and they definitely can't hear her, but they certainly feel sentient. Sometimes they seem more animal than anything else.

Sophie cuts a few more vines away before they can spread further, then wonders for the millionth time why a more permanent solution hasn't been found yet. Like fire. "You guys are flammable, aren't you?" Perhaps they (as in, the leaders of the village) figure they need something to foster a steady fear and paranoia in the villagers, since the outside world sure can't be accessed around the thicket that surrounds them.

The thicket means no access to the outside world. If it were gone, there would be new enemies to fight. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad.

She's heard that sometimes, soldiers become too impatient, too angry, and cut too far in. But as soon as they take a step too far, they fall asleep. And then the vines devour them. The witnesses spreading those stories didn't dare try to rescue them.

Taking that risk sounds more and more appealing with each hour spent under the baking sun. Sophie's uniform is a billowing white (although it's more gray now) blouse tucked into black pants. Long sleeves, even though it's light material. It's sweltering. Heat stroke inducing. Sometimes the thirst is so bad she has to physically pry her tongue from the roof of her mouth with soiled fingers.

(as we approach a turning point in the story, pay close attention. when is the moment she makes her decision? why does she make it? she does not know, but perhaps you can.)

Sophie feels that tug in her stomach again. The tug of wanting, she's begun calling it.

"Go away," she whispers to her hopes and dreams. Perhaps they are of freedom, but no one in this godforsaken town has experienced the fulfillment of a wish in over a century. This is not something to reach for. "You're making this so much worse."

She squints up at the sun. (does it burn her? this is for you to decide, not her. it is never her decision.) It's hidden behind gray clouds, but the heat prickling up her skin doesn't fade. If she gets a sunburn again, she's quitting her job (as if that's an option).

Maybe she should have become a teacher like Fitz, or a healer like Keefe, or a dancer like Linh—even though that last one would have been impossible with Sophie's two left feet. Even Dex seems to have it figured out, brewing his potions and inventing new miracle devices that never make a dent in the thicket. He has a goal, at least, even if it is entirely unattainable.

The thing is, this wanting has only gotten stronger over the past few years. The closer she gets to the vines, the tighter it pulls. Wherever she goes, she can find her way back to the edge of town with her eyes closed.

At twenty years old, Sophie is running out of time to make a decision.

The decision is this: to have her dreams or to follow them. To find freedom in death or lose herself in boredom.

She's certain she'd like to continue living, but the urge to go into the vines and find what thorns are there to prick her strengthens until, honestly, she doesn't see the point of killing more of them. They will return. She will be engulfed.

(here it is. the turning point. but also the beginning, a return.)

So Sophie Foster hacks into the vines spreading from the thicket into the grassy plain and takes too many steps for safety.

Sleep drags at her eyes, but it's not nearly as bad as night shifts are (and the dark circles under her eyes have been spreading steadily lower in the last few months anyway) so she keeps walking. Hacking away at the vines. They whisper around her. She answers them.

(entering and killing the story at the same time. letting herself be stung by the thorns. letting herself be scraped and battered by the beginning itself. she would not understand this metaphor because she is living in it.)

Soon, her arms ache too much to continue slicing at the vines. She drops her sword on the ground and lets the thicket swallow it. But she keeps walking, and discovers that as soon as she stops fighting them, the vines part to let her pass.

Even so, thorns scrape lines across her face, stinging her palms and ripping through her sleeves and pants.

Crunches sound beneath her feet, and without looking, she knows they're bones. Maybe animals unfortunate enough to brave the thorns, only to be trapped. Maybe they're people like her, who felt the thread of wanting and didn't trust themselves to stay awake.

Maybe that is the difference between them and her. The willingness to never sleep. To traverse time like an ocean.

(a crucial part of the hero's journey is the struggles it takes to reach a destination. what is her destination? the ending, or the beginning? has she found the struggle, the toil, the challenge yet?)

Sophie's breaths come in pants. It feels like she's been walking for days, but when she squints up at the sky, only a few hours have passed.

"Stop laughing at me," she mumbles. "Fucking... wants. Vines. I hate both of you."

(she does not yet know that these two things are the same. The roadblock and the motivation. The cause and the effect. The instigator and the anchor.)

"You want to see me fail. I bet I'm gonna emerge from this oversized bush and be back where I started. Some kind of sick joke is what this is. I can't believe the world hates me. The world hates me so much that it forced me to go into the fucking death plants that also hate me, and now they're just prolonging my misery. Thanks, guys. I guess I still haven't learned my lesson, since I'm still walking. It might be spite driving me. (perhaps.) Doesn't matter. You're still just as annoying..."

Her voice trails off as she quite suddenly plunges out of the thicket and into a clearing, almost stumbling with the sudden change from vines trailing across her shoes and tripping her up to empty air.

"Oh." The small sound is swallowed in the expanse of the image in front of her.

(another turning point. did you see this one coming? the point of a beginning is to not know the end— unless, of course, that's where it starts.)

Sophie wipes at a trickle of blood on her forearm, suddenly aware of similar wounds all over her body. The truce of the plants wasn't true, then. She turns to scowl at them, and finds that there is a clear-cut line of where they begin and end.

It's a border, a wall, formed perfectly. The one back home was in disarray, uneven, messy, half-chopped and half-expanding. She hopes someone has been sent to take her place as a soldier. Maybe one day they'll follow her path. Maybe they will become bones crunching under the feet of the next person to reach this place.

This... castle.

It's a deep blue, spangled with stars. It glimmers in the bright sun, a brilliant gray up on the turrets. Purples glisten near the bottom, wreathed with clouds that are down instead of up. Sophie looks at the sun and doesn't squint. Birds circle one tower in an endless circle—hundreds of them. She can barely make out a window through flashes of lavender stone.

It's a night sky during the day. It's impossibility. It shouldn't exist. It is, perhaps, magic.

(it is a story, and she has escaped it. now this is real. why has it become real as soon as the magic becomes clear? again, there is no answer. if there was, you could not find it.)

Sophie moves forward, and the drawbridge lowers to allow her to cross a moat that rings the castle. When she peers down, the water is crystal clear and run through with bright blue. Brightly colored fish dart from one patch of sunlight to the next, scales flashing in a practiced pattern.

Sophie frowns, feels the wrinkles come from constant stress and constant sun deepen. But she keeps walking.

The gigantic double doors open before her.

(it's about the journey, dear. what's the destination?)

Still, she keeps walking.

She doesn't bother calling out to anyone inside. She knows where she will find them: asleep, slumped over whatever they were doing when whatever magic this is came to be.

She knows where she will find the wanting, too.

(for once, Sophie understands what will happen. she knows the ending but not how she will get there. you know the beginning. she knows the end. all that's left is the rest of the journey: first motivation, inciting incident, then turning point, then struggle, and another turning point. what is left?)

And there she is: a woman wasting the days, the decades, away. She's dancing on the table when Sophie finds her, twisting back and forth with an invisible partner, not caring whether her feet land on polished wood or air.

Around the table are chairs occupied with the sleeping members of the castle. Some snore gently, but most sleep in silence, like the dead.

Sophie watches her miss the table and step directly into open air. But she doesn't fall, instead stepping further into the air and resuming her dance in a hover. She wears a pink dress, and it floats around her legs just as surely as its owner.

The woman doesn't notice her. Sophie clears her throat.

There's a beat, a pause, and the woman's magic stumbles. She tumbles to the floor with an oof, hands cast out wildly to break her fall. "Holy shit," the woman breathes.

The wanting is so strong Sophie thinks her heart will be pulled out of her chest and torn open right in front of her.

(here it is: the culmination. the destination. the purpose. the pull.)

She looks up, and Sophie is there with a hand outstretched, mouth pressed tight together to keep from blurting out something stupid like a marriage proposal.

The woman takes her hand. Her fingers wrap firmly around Sophie's wrist and let her pull her onto her feet. Her eyes are a blue so deep it almost crosses to purple, and freckles trace her cheeks and the top of her pink mouth. Her hair explodes from her scalp in a shower of brown curls, softening the sharp edges of her face.

"Who are you?" the princess (this is what she must be) asks.

"My name is Sophie. Sophie Foster," she adds, as if it matters. Dumbly, "What's yours?"

The princess pulls her hand away (loss) and ignores her question. "Did you wake up?" Desperate hope threads through her eyes, trembles in the veins of her hands. Her fists clench, flex. She casts a glance toward the comatose assembly around the table. Two of the adults seated near the head wear crowns. They are, Sophie assumes, her parents. The king and queen.

"I was never asleep," Sophie answers. Although this, of course, isn't true. She didn't know it before (possibly she had never truly known anything until this moment) but she was sleepwalking through life. Only with this castle of night does she feel alert, like she's in less of a dream and more of a life.

(what has she discovered? does this mean this is the end? is this a story or a dream? if she wakes up, is the story over?)

The princess deflates. The light goes from her eyes. She steals another glance at the table, and then back to Sophie. "I'm Stina, then. Don't bother with any titles. I haven't had to use those in one hundred years."

Sophie blinks. Perhaps this is a dream. She pinches the inside of her arm, but nothing changes. "One hundred years?"

Stina's lips twist to the side. "I look good for my age, don't I." She sighs and slumps to the floor, her dress expanding around her. Sophie is conscious of her torn and bloody uniform as she sits next to her. "That's when the curse was placed. A century ago, almost exactly."

"Curse?" Sophie decides she hates magic. But also loves it. She's never quite been certain of her feelings on anything, and this is no different.

(take note of this indecision. what choices are easier for her to make? which are impossible?)

"Indefinite sleep if I prick my finger on a spinning wheel," Stina explains glumly. "Except she missed. And it got everyone except me, but now I'm stuck at twenty years old forever."

"Can't curses be broken?" Sophie considers age gaps a very inconsequential thing. Perhaps she was traveling through those vines for a century. It certainly seemed that way. That would make them the same age, and therefore if she looks too long at the other woman's lips, it can hardly be a problem if they are both centuries trapped in decades' bodies.

"Sure. Only, the fairy who did it didn't mention how to fix mine." Stina snorts. "Typical. Fairies are always difficult like that."

Sophie nods in agreement, even if her only encounters with magic thus far have been the vines, and now the woman in front of her. Fairies. What assholes.

(Sophie is finding new perspectives on life. namely, homosexuality. is this a new story? or is she still on a journey?)

"But you're awake," Stina remarks, quirking an eyebrow. She picks at the lace on her skirt. "How are you doing that?"

Sophie shrugs. "I don't sleep well. Insomnia."

Stina, to her surprise, laughs. It's a harsh sound, sudden, and it breaks apart the silence. One of the endlessly circling birds caws, and Sophie wonders if it's been trying to escape the tower for a full century, or if it only recently got caught. "Neither do I," the immortal princess says.

(is this something they should be finding in common? did the fairy miss, or was Stina simply too stubborn to fall asleep? she is stubborn, although it may not be clear from this interaction. this is a moment stretching time, holding dreams in its palm.)

"Or..." Sophie considers, tilting her head to the side. "I could be immune to magic." Her hair has fallen out of its tight braid by now. Wisps and locks of wheat-blonde hair fall around her face in a short bob, and she brushes them impatiently from her eyes.

"That's not possible," Stina tells her. "Magic isn't a disease. It's not something you can be immune to. It just... is."

(what is it? what else "just is" and how do we know it can't spread? perhaps more things are diseases than we think. perhaps magic is a sickness. perhaps it is the cure.)

"Have you ever tried to leave the castle?" Sophie asks. Her eyes sting in phantom pain of the sun. There must be a new soldier at her post by now. Maybe they will find her sword in the thicket someday.

Stina hesitates. "Yes. Of course."

"So you've seen the vines. Have they let you through?"

She scuffs her fingernail along the ground. "No."

"They let me through," she says. "And I'm awake. And I'm not in a vortex."

"Vortex?"

"The birds."

"Oh, them." Stina sighs. "It seems we're all caught in cycles these days, doesn't it?"

(just a bit of humor. come back to the beginning, why don't you?)

Her name is Sophie.

(what's next?)

Sophie Foster unsheathes her sword.

(no, that was another joke. she doesn't have her sword. continuity is important in stories that don't have beginnings and ends, because even if no one is supposed to understand them—especially not those living them—there still must be something to fall back on. like empty hands. and magic. tropes and cliches are especially helpful.)

"It does," Sophie says, and remembers how it once felt to sleep. It now occurs to her that she hasn't slept in one hundred years, and she also was born twenty years ago.

Perhaps she isn't immune to magic. This place might be driving her batty.

"Yes. Maybe. Well, I couldn't tell you. But it's worth a try, isn't it?"

"So you're immune," Stina says, and she might be sarcastic (it's never been very easy for Sophie to tell) but there's a hint of something different. Something interested. Something sincere. Something desperate. "To magic."

"What is?"

Sophie's eyes widen. "I thought I already said it. Maybe I can break your curse, is what I'm saying."

(what is she saying? that she has a resolution to the conflict? maybe she still has to decide whether the conflict is the curse, her wanting, or something else entirely. maybe she's one of the ravens in the vortex. maybe this is a daydream, and she's still standing in front of those vines playing make believe. but that's just not realistic— in the village, Sophie was still fighting stories, not making her own.)

Stina's face drops, and she twists to look at the figures around the table. "Don't make jokes. It's been a century. Do you know how many books I've had to read just to be absolutely sure there's no way to break it? I've boiled rat blood and painted it on the highest point of the castle. I've plucked hairs from bats' wings. I collected the bone-dust from the lowermost dungeon and buried it in the garden. There's nothing, not even you."

"I'm incredibly funny," Sophie says, "but I don't think jokes are meant to give you false hope."

"Are you a joke?"

"I'm feeling a lot of hope right now, and I really don't want to." Stina takes her hand anyway. The pressure of her fingers is soothing, but also terrifying. Suddenly, it feels like expectation, and Sophie regrets suggesting anything at all. Softer, resigned: "I'm touching you, and my parents are still sleeping."

"Are you laughing?" Sophie searches Stina's eyes for something that she can't name. "I think the wanting knew I could help you. I think it led. Mr here for a reason."

Stina looks at her like she doesn't have to ask what the wanting is because she feels it too.

"I think, maybe, I'm just guessing, that we have to... I don't know, I've read a few books. Not many lately, haven't had time, but I know that these things work because of... you know, this whole place is magic, so maybe it goes by fairy tale logic anyway, and I never believed in fairy tales before I met you anyway but we're here now and we might as well try, so—"

"What," Stina asks in exasperation, "are you talking about?"

"I think we have to kiss?" Sophie says timidly, lifting her palms in an exaggerated shrug.

Stina stills. Her gaze flicks down to her lips, then back up. Like she hadn't considered it before, but now she can't do anything but consider it. Sophie would know, because now all she can think about is kissing her.

(resolution, perhaps, can only occur when the conflict is clear. here, we have another issue of motivation. why does Sophie suggest this? to save her? to break the curse? or just because, well, she traveled all this way and she'd like a little kiss for her efforts?)

(maybe Stina is just really fucking hot.)

"Okay," Stina says.

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay."

They sit there. Sophie shifts to sit on her knees and discovers that upright, she's still the same height as Stina on her butt. Height, she has learned throughout her life, intimidates her. So she's left rocking back and forth in front of her, hesitating. She's always hesitating.

"Just fucking kiss me, man," Stina says, and grabs Sophie's cheeks to bring her closer. Her thumb traces the underside of her chin and trails down her neck. Sophie gulps.

(think back to that first turning point. why did Sophie consider staying in the village? why did she want to stop walking and let the vines engulf her? maybe because she's scared. maybe because she doesn't want the change goodness would bring. she doesn't want the story to end, and therefore to begin again.)

"Maybe this isn't a good idea," Sophie says, and Stina moves her head back an inch. Is that disappointment? No more reaching for dreams, for wantings, even if this desire sits heavy in her stomach like a stone on fire. Think things through. Don't just go into the vines. "What if you lose all your magic? The... hovering. The immortality. Maybe you'll start aging, or it'll all speed up and you'll be one hundred years old in body, too."

Stina laughs, and her breath is warm on Sophie's lips. "Shit, Foster. I find that after one hundred years, I don't care. I want to see my mom and dad awake. That's what this is for. The magic... it can be a nuisance anyway."

Like the vines. Like Keefe, Sophie thinks wildly.

(see how the story is circling back in on itself? the words twist together into a tangle. into a thicket. we are back in the vines. the vines are the castle. the castle is the story. sophie is the story, but she doesn't know she's telling it, and she doesn't know she's being told. don't think too hard, and you should be fine. that's what Keefe does, and he turned out great!)

"Okay," Sophie says.

"Oh, we're not doing that shit again," Stina says. She kisses her.

(this is where Sophie finds the wanting.)

(she finds the story, in other words.)

Stina's lips find her greedy, coming too close, hands bracing themselves on her jawline, noses bumping, fingers tracing cheeks and necks and shoulders. She hasn't interacted with another conscious person in a century, hasn't been kissed in that time, hasn't wanted to.

Sophie takes the greed, the hunger, and absorbs it. She feels awake for the first time in years. Stina kisses her like Sophie is the curse and she's trying to break it. She probably wouldn't mind being broken by someone like her.

A bell clangs from somewhere deep in the castle. Grunts and delayed snores sound from the table, and a single plate clatters to the floor as the attendees of the dinner jerk to consciousness. There are murmurs, then shouts of confusion.

Stina doesn't pull away.

So this is how her parents see their daughter after a century-long nap: making out with a random girl in torn and bloodied peasant clothes on the floor of their great hall, center of thousands of political battles, marriage ceremonies (decidedly between men and women), and even the occasional war or pissing contest. Perhaps this would be offensive or disrespectful if the king and queen had not had their first kiss in the same room, possibly even more scandalously.

"Stina?" the king asks, his crown askew on his head.

They break apart. Stina's cheeks are flushed, her lips slightly swollen and reddened, hair even messier than before the kiss. Sophie is sure she must be in a similar state. Hastily, she stands and bends into an awkward curtsy, almost tripping as she backs away.

Stina, however, doesn't look embarrassed. Instead, tears spill down her cheeks as she launches herself at her father, landing in an embrace that is sure to last another century.

(This is the end, the culmination. The beginning: a name, a woman, a sword. The ending: a kiss, an awakening, a reunion. And another beginning: more kisses, a rose, maybe a crown. The wanting, the begging, the dreaming, the freedom. Sophie holds it in her hand and swings it like a sword, hacks into the vines spreading from their thicket into the grassy field. It has been a battle since the beginning, no matter where you start the story.)

(Call this a story or call it a dream. It finds the same ending, the same awakening no matter the name, no matter who tells it. Sophie finds herself in a fairytale that she has been a part of since the beginning of the battle, of the war. What was the enemy? Maybe it was herself, or the vines, or the magic. Maybe it was the goddamned birds and the cycles we find impossible to break.)

(Maybe Stina is just really fucking hot, and Sophie needed to kiss her.)

(That's probably truer than any of those other things.)

Once Upon A Time,

the end.

[kamiversee]

i woke up with puffy eyes and a headache. what the fuck kami

i’m really picky when it comes to angst. in scenes like this, a lot of writers tend to have the leading character completely crumble so that the love interest—who is often the one that was initially hurt by the situation—has to be the one to swallow their pride and comfort the lead which would eventually lead to forgiveness. it’s a good trope when done right, but even then i feel like it’s a very tired trope.

you didn’t do that. you were able to portray mutual vulnerability while maintaining the headstrong and caring personality of the reader. we’re able to see again how the reader is self-sacrificial before all else, and it shows growth that can justify a possible redemption. the reader is a victim throughout this entire plotline, but we continuously to see that despite how aspects of her soured she still has the capability to be sweet and compassionate. so well done.

oh my god dude the way Choso has completely broken down made me lose it. the poor boy is so overwhelmed. i seriously appreciated the slight shift in narration style to Choso’s POV of the entire event. throughout the entire fic, the narrator would often speak in ways that gave more perspective to the reader’s mind. the switch to give more of Choso’s perspective while connecting the dots to the reader’s thoughts and experiences was so, so necessary. i can’t immediately recall if we had big shifts of narration like this earlier on (at least for a large passage), but it really stood out in this chapter so we could sympathize with Choso further. if there are still people saying that Choso’s a bigger red flag character for the reader because of his possessiveness after this then i seriously don’t know what it will take. my poor boy, he’s so confused and hurt. it’s too much to explain at the moment and he wishes he could just lay it out in a way that more accurately recalls his experiences rather than the way he was barely able to shout out bits and pieces of all the info in the café, but doing so just hurts too much and he could barely speak to the reader with the way things went. UGH.

the crying scene in the rain where Choso clung to the reader made me think back to Gojo’s breakdown in chapter 30. the reader is the only thing that’s able to anchor them to reality at their worst moments, despite these major breakdowns happening because of her. the circumstances are different, but the devestation is almost the same. they’re both so scared at the fact that there are circumstances that could mean completely losing the reader and it’s mostly out of their control. how could they not break down after that?

regarding the narration in the Choso POV passage, the part when you say, “He couldn’t believe you. Especially after you wouldn’t even tell him about the clear list of other guys you’ve been with? That’s all precisely why he says he felt as though he should know who else you’d been with.” KAMI. ARE YOU SUGGESTING WHAT I THINK YOU’RE SUGGESTING??? the narration giving more light to Choso’s POV but adding some of the reader’s thoughts into it was so genius because when i read this, i was like “holy shit, he knows. he just doesn’t know who’s on the list.” THAT BROKE ME ON A DIFFERENT LEVEL. KAMI, YOU DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT, RIGHT???? KAMI????? 😭😭😭😭 especially at the end when you mentioned that the “details” of the list are going to be revealed, and not just the list in general has me overthinking. holy fuck.

i love that despite everything that happened, Choso still loves the reader enough to try to shield her from the rain so she doesn’t get sick. MY FUCKING HEART HURTS. the way he needs to get full reassurance that the worst man he knows didn’t harm one of the most precious people he has in his life just makes me ache. i was tearing up during the whole chapter, but that completely wrecked me. the consistent theme of him hating liars which was first introduced to us in chapter 12 is finally about to bite the reader in the ass if she doesn’t take this opportunity to tell him. GIRL IF YOU DON’T TELL HIM???? I’M SLEEPING ON THE HIGHWAY.

oh my god kami. i’m still broken from this. these were just my immediate thoughts after my read last night 😭i’ll probably find more to ask about during my reread, sorry in advance. but until then i’m mourning the person i was before this chapter. kami wtf.

-☃️

Yappy sessionnn!!

1. Ahh tysmm, I’m happy I was able to make Choso & the reader’s interaction stand out in comparison to other’s who write that troupe.

Going off that, I want to also point out how I say Gojo —> the reader —> Choso. Given that, I want some of y’all to rlly consider what that means seeing as Gojo claims him and the reader are the same so, what does that mean for Choso and the reader?

2. & yeah, I’ve narrated like this before just not in this fic i think? I have another change of pov coming in one of the next few chapters so yeah I’m glad you enjoyed that ^.^

Also, because Choso isn’t the best with voicing emotions, that’s the reasoning behind why a change of narration was needed. With Gojo’s breakdown, he vocalized most of what he was feeling while still leaving the reader confused. Choso is more of the type to need the story to shift to what he was going through

Again, I just changed the narroration so that Choso could be more understood especially for the gojo girlies😒

3. And yes, for deferent reasons ofc, the reader is the only thing that keeps both men grounded at the end of the day. As of rn, only Choso’s reasoning for this is clarified whereas Gojo’s reason is unknown outside of the fact that he loves her & is obsessed with her.

4. Am I suggesting what you think I’m suggesting?😹 Who knows?😹😹

5. Yup, no matter what, we notice that Choso still puts the reader above himself in a way. Given his backstory and how he did the same for his younger brothers, this is something that’s simply apart of his character and actually makes him similar to Gojo in a way

A while back, I think, Gojo told the reader that if she was ever upset, he’d want her to beat up on him instead of blame herself because it’s not her fault.

Choso offers that same punching bag for her but in a different font, Choso so clearly still cares about her despite all he’s learned and as stated, nothing’ll change that :)

6. WILL SHE TELL HIM? WILL SHE NOT?😹😹😹😹😹😹😹 WHO KNOWSSS

Guys why do I feel like im lowk becoming gege with this stupid cat laughing emoji…………..

😹

ITS SO SILLY I CANT EVEN

Anywho, happy to have given u trauma, you’re welcome😉

[iwanthermidnightz]

https://www.theguardian.com/music/2023/may/19/pop-stars-must-do-more-to-defend-lgbtq-fans-taylor-swift

Taylor Swift has flagged her sympathies with this community, so why is her Eras tour visiting US states enacting repressive laws without comment?

Look what an overly aggressive security guard made Taylor Swift do. Over the weekend, the singer won praise for calling out a guard, mid-performance, who was being rough with a female fan.

However, as a queer Swiftie, I can’t help but wish she would channel that same energy and her enormous platform into denouncing the record number of anti-LGBTQ+ laws being introduced across the US. Since starting in March, Swift’s Eras tour has taken her to numerous states that have ushered in some of the most extreme anti-LGBTQ+ bills in decades, including Florida, Tennessee and Texas. Yet the singer has stayed silent.

For some, Swift’s silence undermines, or at least draws into question, the flurry of LGBTQ+ advocacy she embarked on in 2019. After a gay friend helped Taylor realise her position on LGBTQ+ rights wasn’t “clear enough or loud enough”, she came out swinging for the gays. Close to a million people signed her petition in support of the Equality Act, she brought drag queens on stage with her at a major award show, and also made enormous donations to LGBTQ+ charities such as Glaad and the Tennessee Equality Project. (She also released the homophobe-bashing single You Need to Calm Down, though perhaps erasing that from our collective memory would be more of a win for LGBTQ+ rights.)

When Swift broke her political silence in 2018 by publicly supporting two Democrats in the US midterm elections it felt like a watershed moment. The singer had seemed to have gotten over being “so fearful of making a mistake that [she would] just freeze”, as she once told Vogue. As she said in her 2020 documentary, Miss Americana, she cared more about being “on the right side of history”. Which is why her silence now feels so loud.

But the issue of pop and politics goes beyond Swift, raising questions about our expectations of pop stars, figureheads who have by and large become more politicised over the past decade. Should artists use their platforms to speak out on social issues, and if so, how often and to what extent? (The current calls for Swift to denounce past controversies by her rumoured boyfriend, Matty Healy of the 1975, for example, are both misogynist – expecting a woman to account for her partner’s behaviour – and demonstrative of fan entitlement.) Do we expect them to understand and respond to all the hot-button issues going on around the world? Which countries (or states, for that matter) is it OK for them to perform in?

Now more than ever, these are valid questions to ask of pop stars. Major pop tours are watercooler events akin to sports games, Succession and Eurovision: one of the biggest platforms around, speaking directly not only to young audiences who look to their idols for support, but the wider public who might be influenced by their views. And queer fans can reasonably expect to see support for their causes because today’s pop spectacle was built on the backs of trailblazing queer icons, to whom every star owes a spiritual debt. (In 2017, Swift’s Reputation tour paid nightly tribute to the 19th-century US dancer Loie Fuller, a gay woman who pioneered modern dance and theatrical lighting and fought for artists to own their work.)

It’s understandable that many stars are wary about speaking out, particularly when on stage. Audiences have come for a show, not a political rally. Perhaps that’s why some stars opt for softer actions, such as Harry Styles waving a Pride flag or Beyoncé making venue toilets gender-neutral on her current Renaissance tour. These gestures of support can mean so much for a young queer or questioning fan. But Madonna put her career on the line in the 80s and 90s with her HIV/Aids activism, including a card detailing The Facts About Aids enclosed with 1989’s Like a Prayer album. Considering we’re living through an era of humanitarian and climate crises with a growing backlash against the rights of women, people of colour and LGBTQ+ people, today’s pop stars aren’t taking radical enough action.

So while we can applaud artists such as Lizzo, Orville Peck, Kelsea Ballerini and Hayley Kiyoko for their recent advocacy against the anti-drag and trans laws emerging across the US, statements and symbolic gestures won’t do anything to help the families of queer and trans kids fleeing Texas and Florida. What matters today is how pop stars who want to make a difference use their voice, platform and wealth to materially improve the lives of vulnerable communities. Shortly after the Grenfell tragedy in 2017, Adele stopped her Wembley concert to plead with the audience to donate £5 to the Unite for Grenfell relief efforts. On the Eras tour, it’s been revealed that Swift is making “sizeable” donations to local food banks at each stop.

Boycotts can also be effective. It was only seven years ago that North Carolina introduced an anti-LGBTQ+ bathroom bill, which sparked such a huge backlash that businesses left the state and major sporting events and concerts were cancelled. Less than a year later, the draconian law was repealed. LGBTQ+ communities are fighting for their freedom and it’s those kinds of actions that could make a meaningful difference to their safety. Imagine if pop stars highlighted local queer groups at each of their concert venues with donation stands. Or if they signposted information about local, state and national politicians fans could contact about anti-LGBTQ+ legislation. It would also be extremely powerful to see this done by artists without obvious queer fanbases such as Drake or Bruce Springsteen (who was among the artists to cancel shows in North Carolina in 2016).

With all eyes on these tours and every moment being beamed directly to TikTok, they’re one of the most powerful platforms out there and it’s devastating that more isn’t being made of these opportunities. The era of speak now is over. It’s time for pop stars who care about equality to act now.

[talenlee]

3e: The PHB At The Pride Parade

In the Dungeons and Dragons 3.5 Player’s Handbook which is a title that still blows me out, version control on tabletop games and all, but anyway, in that book, it opens pretty shortly after the game introduces the game rules and the heritages available to play, but then it goes to talk about Character Classes. Character classes each represent ways of doing things, but to give those archetypes personality, the book creates an example character of each class, so they can reference them later in other text.

This then leads to the extremely important question: How do these characters show up to a Pride parade?

I mean they all do, right? Like, they’re a party, they go together, and also it’s a Pride Parade. There’s no reason to not show up and have fun by default. And of course, all the characters have their own energies that they project into the space.

Krusk, the Half-Orc Barbarian is there to hoot and holler and party, arms up, arms wide, wearing a sleeveless crop top that says FREE HUGS. Krusk is more than any of the rest of this team someone who is down to clown for almost anything. Krusk wears basically every flag someone gives him at the event until he’s basically wandering around with a cape of them. He has no idea what most of them mean.

Gimble is a gnome bard, which is to say he’s someone who has a whole cultural prediliction towards public displays and expressions of creative ideas, and a class that cares about being at least the second most important thing in everyone’s attention. Of course this means he has been overthinking the whole experience since roughly ten minutes after last Pride Parade. Sure, last time he did the rainbow display and the arced lights as he made a fireworks display fly out of his vhiolin, but now he’s got a bigger plan. He’s going to make a Pennsylvania Pride flag that spells out COEXIST. This is because Gimble sucks.

Jozan is a human cleric, which is to say a man who looked at the most boring basic option in the world that was Regdar, and went ‘oo, that’s boring, I’ll do something interesting‘ and still managed to produce a character with all the personality of taupe flavoured donuts. Jozan is a staunch ally, obviously, since he doesn’t think of himself as queer, and the fact that he is a man who Absolutely Does Not Fuck doesn’t seem to land in his mind as related at all to all the Ace Pride supporting he does.

Vadania, the half-elf druid and the rest of her polycule – oh sorry, ‘druid circle’ – show up at Pride early because this is a place where people can both respect how they relate to one another and they can enjoy the event while happily distributing ‘Good Berries.’

Tordek the Dwarven Fighter was slightly confused about Bear Pride when he learned about it because the idea of ‘liking broad or fat Hairy Men’ to his particular type of Dwarven perspective was the same thing as describing yourself as ‘entirely vanilla.’ On the other hand, it’s a good crowd for him to hang with that regard him as a Short King.

Regdar is there but nobody notices. Nobody kills him. It’s the best day of his life.

Ember is a woman of supreme focus, being as she’s a human Monk, and that focus is great for when she gets involved in an argument about ‘Whether or not some gates need to be kept.’

Alhandra the half-Elf Paladin, is a former church gal who didn’t realise her ‘tomboy style’ of a side shave, six-plus height and sword-and-shield style, when she came out was going to make her basically catnip for a particular type of gender-blurring queer, and she apologises a lot to Ember about what she said in that argument. Also, she has a horse, so that’s obviously part of the Parade.

Sovellis, the half-elf Ranger, very understated, very calm, spends his time handing out water bottles. There’s no sign that Sovellis is particularly engaged with The Culture around him but that doesn’t matter because to him the important thing is seeing how many dogs he gets to meet.

Then there’s Lidda. Lidda is the character from the whole set of these characters that artists seem to have the most consistent opinion for (aside from Regdar), which is to say, lots of people seemed to draw her as if she was hot, and then notice afterwards that she’s half-sized, resulting in a lot of art of the character that can be described as ‘short queen.’ Lidda is that gal who has a powerful online presence, loved by her community and when they meet her in person she spends the entire day soaking up compliments but also, the oh so common, “Oh, you’re shorter than I imagined.” Then again she also shows up in full leathers and with a collection of knives, and yes, that means she is the coolest woman there.

Then there’s Hennet, who is a human sorcerer and is personally responsible for more playeres taking the Sorcerer class than they ever should. Basically, he looks cool to exactly the kind of person who has freshly discovered they’re queer and realise they get to express all sorts of cool things based on the way they’re different, and it shows in that Hennet has the energy of a babyqueer who came out four weeks ago and has spent the intervening time trying to do everything he can to get As Gay As Possible. He doesn’t even need a Pride outfit, he just shows up like it’s Tuesday. He does not pick up.

Mialee, the elven wizard, is kinda famous for being a character built out of parental approval, so delicate that she shatters at a faint breath. She also is depicted regularly flaunting magical power. At the Pride Parade, she is the one who wonders where she gets to sit and which of the floats is hers.

But don’t worry about that finale, there’s also the Expansion Pack of an extra character to show off Wizard specialisation, the gnome Illusionist Nebin! Nebin is exactly 1% less extra than Gimble, which means that from where he stands, he looks at how Gimble behaves and grits his teeth, but if anyone ever implies it’s because he thinks Nebin makes him look bad he’ll throw tiny, tiny hands.

Now you might wonder: Talen, what are you doing here. Is this just a listicle about the vibes of characters to make an article that fits with the Pride Month theme in the general narrative of DND 3e articles you put on your blog and therefore technically applicable?

And to that, I say,,

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[cluelessatthispoint]

TF2 fic request:

Some/all the mercs' first pride event

AHHHH!!!

I love this!!!! thank you anon!

~~~~~~~~

The weather outside was perfect. The breeze was light and there was just enough cloud cover to make the sun's harsh rays gently caress all that stood within it. This was the time of year that the mercs got a one-week vacation all to themselves. Tired of the weather in New Mexico, the mercs decided to go to Nevada for the week. The ride there was long and "boring as hell" as Scout put it. They could have taken a private plane but Pyro seemed to like the idea of a road trip better than flying. At least that's what Pyro seemed to say when setting the interior of the plane on fire.

On their first day there, there seemed to be a commotion in the streets and a sense of happiness in the air. People walked by on the sidewalks in all manner of colorful clothing.

"Whoa! Look at that!" Scout's hands flared excitedly in the passenger side of the van.

There were rainbow decorations everywhere. A rainbow balloon archway down the street, colorful signs, and streamers littered the low-hanging branches of trees and the sidewalks. Heavy looked around at the colorful sights before him and flicked on his turning signal. After a while, he pulled into an empty parking space and gestured for everyone to get out of the vehicle. Pyro came barreling out of the van with lightning speed that seemed to rival Scout's. Excited mmmpphs and grunts came from the resident arsonist. Clapping his gloved hands with joy he grabbed Engineer and dragged him down the street toward the crowd of colorfully dressed people. With a shrug and a smile, he let Pyro drag him away while the others stood and watched them go.

"So What do ya reckon this is then?" Sniper looked around at all the colors, slightly distracted and out of his element with so many people he grabbed at his shoulder bag and held it in a tight grip.

"Well Lads, This here is a Pride Event!" Demo's eye glints with happiness.

"Jane and me convinced Heavy to drive the lot of us to Nevada for a Pride Event. Eventually, Pyro found out about it and well, he told Engie. Anyways we all thought that would be a great experience to have together."

Spy eyed the decorations and took a slow drag of his cigarette. The music echoed in the distance. "Well, I suppose that we will call each other if we get lost, correct?

"Aye, good plan." Demo and Soldier walked ahead of the group and scoped out the surroundings looking for where Pyro and Engineer went.

The people around them were talking loudly with each other and had pleasant smiles on their faces. Once in a while Medic would walk over to a group and start talking, then he would walk to another group and then right back next to Heavy. From each group he would take notes and ask questions about what colors mean what specifically, and how pronouns were used.

"Holy Crap guys look over there!"

Scout dragged Sniper to the side of the street and pointed to the front of the parade. There stood Pyro and Engineer. Pyro was covered head to toe with little flags duct taped to his suit. He clapped his hands to the music and moved his body erratically with the music.

Over to side Demo and Jane were watching the shenanigans that their friends were doing. It seemed that they were learning more about life outside of their never-ending war. It was good. With cold glasses of beer resting in their hands, they looked around at the crowd. The sound of the music and the pleasnt buzz of the beer made everything seem even better. It felt good to be themselves outside of work. A warm hand rested on Demo's shoulder. They didn't have to say anything to each other. The look in their eyes did all the talking that they needed. As the mercs left the Pride Event at the end of the long fun-filled day they smiled. They left knowing that the world may not be a great place, but it was a good place. And they couldn't ask for more.

~~~

So, I've never attended a Pride event, I had to dig and do some research and pulled out what I thought would be okay for this short fic. I really hope that I got the "essence" of it correct. :)