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edenspoem · 1 year ago

Text

copy that, romeo

— ellie williams was supposed to be your supervisor, not your object of infatuation ~ ♡

⋆❝ this is cordero tower, calling in.❞⋆

CHAPTER ONE: SUMMERTIME INTERLUDE . NEXT CHAPTER > ♡. pair; firewatcher!ellie x recruit!reader

♡. summary; it's 1995, and the angel crater national park welcomes you; a retrograde lookout all to yourself, a space nerd for a supervisor, and a whole summertime job spent in hues of sepia and juniper, waiting for the first sign of smoke. ninety–three days. you don't know her face, you share no breath— but by walkie–talkie, you know her voice.

♡. a/n; READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. CLICK HERE. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS. ALSO THIS.

♡. content; EVENTUAL SMUT, narrator present, silly fourth wall breaking, a dash of comedy, slowburn (somewhat), living alone, long–distance pining, reader/characters are similar ages(mid–late 20s), depression, heavy metaphor usage, complicated poetry styles, mentions of organs, mentions of weaponry, metaphorical death, grim humor, drinking alcohol, drunk!ellie, drunken flirting (vaguely and bluntly), ellie jumpscare, uh-oh sassy masc apocalypse, she's corny and cheesy too (a dork), awkwardness, humiliation, lighthearted bickering, nicknames used. [lmk if i missed anything] . SERIES PLAYLIST .

WC; 6.1k+ ✮ thank you @trackinglessons for your sexy brain and beautiful ideas + custom art ✮ masterlist ✮ series masterlist ✮ ellie ref sheet

Summertime is the interlude between misery and Mondays.

May was a rough patch for you. A coagulated chapter within the spring world, a shunned ponder, red jello in the gradience of passage. Tempus, time. Early months hence were just as pessimizing, doubt is an arid reservoir in you. But, as a maypole sits a svelte giant in the sweet Beltane soil, braving an invisible smile whilst little ones— little laughters, spun prances and wraps of dainty satin to an ensnare on its long body, it weeped for its delicate capture. You; flesh coarse like timber, relate to the log standing, ensnared. Sunk in that gelatinous texture, unmoving as pressures collided with the surface outward, ripples everywhere yet incapable of sprinkling through you. Something would have to delve itself to drag you out.

Chapters; cusp of autumn to April, every single month, wound ‘round you. They each had separating colors, and spared turns to soundly fold your limbs and bulge your skin in ribbons. It snipped your circulation, shriveled the ripe breath in your skull and traded it for a pressure. A throb. Weight upon the cranium, you felt the narrowing cradle inside wilt from thought, drain from consciousness, and soften your stiff eyes locked on drywall. Hour to hour.

But those weren't the only things taunting you with a dance— expectations danced faster. Expectators, paired minds heaping expectations; yourself and the selves blackjacking their wants expressed as worries onto you. Stressful creatures, they are. Bosses, co–workers, energy vampires disguised as lover boys prowling about your workspace, general creatures of the retail world. God, they're like ravenous wolves snarling hunger through their teeth, slobber moonlight–bright of that dire carnality for variety meats. Depression just took the first serving before they could.

Even the domesticated places are a wilderness untamed.

Stress drained you of life. It softened your desire to even try. Gods are dulling, blamed you, on another dull morning where the trickling sound of coffee pouring drilled irk into your ears, rather than simply a trickle. Caffeine, a roast so void–black was brewed to un–drain you. Yet, it fuckin didn't.

Impugning was your everything, until it could no longer purify; Elaine. Emptiness. Hmm, you gave this state of vacuum–headed hollowness a name, keenly because it deserved so by its dismantling of your autonomy. You don't want it. It's not you. It's Elaine. A some–angel fallen out of grace, weary of its wander upon a washed up cove, beige toned and swept shivering–cold. Interested by the warmth your sundry organs pushed into its light silhouette.

And perhaps, if the bird was never freed from its heavenly cage, it would be powerless to pester you, to poke the meat inside with the pointy end of plumage.

Elaine was an organized assault on your wellbeing, moreso against the pulpy, pinkish-gray blob sitting ugly above your throat. Believe it, or assume it. A paralysis, moving shoulders from bed sheets proved farcical, running bristles over your teeth twice a day rhymes with nonsense, and midnight ink born to swirl and curtsy to convey thoughts gone rancid, goes unused atop the white flutter between your journal hardcovers. You have a morbid case of the seasonal blues, except this time, the season is beyond its blue hues. Spring, a fuckin’ kaleidoscope embellished. Blotches of big fuck you greens so vibrant you'd long to die from your tears, and an abstract spit of smell me reds thorny as your stomach brought to a scream for something. Anything.

It was a slow, banal descent into the jello.

January, floating atop the sweet delicacy, atop your bed.

February, the solidity gave out beneath you, goo subtly etching around your ankles, calves, elbows, unforgivingly cold when it first hit. When in reality, the bed was heating from your lay.

March, marrow goes heavy, your limbs at this time could not lift, your efforts waned, and satiating the rumble in you with sustenance was forgotten, as that rumble got so, so.. quiet.

April, the jello had stuffed your nose, your sockets, and lullabied your ligaments. You let it happen.

May.

You let yourself sink. Let yourself decompose and go mush in the head. Like a zombie.

The descent doesn't taste of sweet delight, but it also fails to churn your lips with a heavy saccharinity. Neutral, your hopeful side did say. Nothing, rationality slapped past your lips.

Five months, either a misery, or a Monday.

Yes Eve, a bite out of the Apocrypha will indeed fill this human abysm in me. Forbidden knowledge is my craving. Contraband of truth, bite to bite, I envy that I could not cope with its coating of my empty gut earlier.

Innocence is so dull. You are depressed, not a fucking saint for staying indoors, starving your rage.

But on came a crisp bouquet of biker–boy newspapers; ‘Hiring’, and a few scans further; ‘Do you harness a great love for the evergreen?’

A honed section in Missoula's local print— jobs. A publisher boldens and compresses enthusiasm sporadically; writing–on–the–wall hollers speckle themselves meticulously on the newsprint that strike a sense of obligation into the susceptible and soft–of–heart chunk of the population. A pert voice read with persuasion between your ears, gritty in tone and stereotypical of a middle aged ranger, vocals fried by cigarettes but as booming as a cannon.

“Do you care for the animals inhabiting our national sanctuaries?”

Abutting small paragraphs, the sagging belly of a black bear, tender caramel snout and snoopy–faced, fitted on its head a mustard yellow campaign hat labeled, ‘Smokey’. Its burly, blundering frame on all fours stood out over a comic–style vista of the Montana rockies, paws obscured by blocks of thickset text reading ‘Only you’.

Huh, a realistic depiction of Smokey Bear— over a not–so–realistic background, avant–garde.

Tree greens sprawly that didn't shout ‘Fuck you’ on your poor, sunken eyes searing for sleep and a twilight darkness. Sagey lichens that didn't draw out the spasms above your own bones, calling your regard to bring pin–sized problems and blemishes sprawling your own flesh out of the bliss of ignorance. Brunette muds with only a fleck of sun, a slice of earth dull, humble and unprocessed enough from benevolence to leave you unconsumed, unsunken. A mere slop and pudge in the future and wake of your walk. Nothing obnoxiously grand, nothing sanctimonious. Nature is by birth— righteous, regardless.

“Before we can be proud of our nation, our nation must be proud of us!”

The advertisement gropes for a summertime made free. A cyclopean sinkhole in the becoming of time. Recruits–in–waiting are called to bargain normalcy and the bustling cities plump with lumbering limbs of sheen–tight pantyhose shaded under short shapes of plaid skirts for boot–cuts n’ backpacks hefty with gear that could either save you the trouble of mountaineering by path, or trouble your time with a faulty snapping of two things. Rope and neck.

Too grim?

A months’–long moment of tension snapped at the pressure joint— Summertime the snapper. You'd be devoting ninety–three suns, ninety–two moons, and some two–million breaths of fir laden air up in Angel Crater National Park, northwest of here. Pupils flickering the double-page setup, you continue: A pictographic, old–fashioned lookout taller than the timber spires surrounding would be your station, your core of operations, for those three young and sunny months. Boxed provisions and supplies are guaranteed to ship every other week, and testimonies encourage even the anxious, balmy buzzes of your brain to sigh in solace learning that the weald creatures there— are mostly harmless, if you aren't bred an imbecile. Alongside, an appointed supervisor, whose name was never disclosed duly except for a scratch of text gingerly clasped in quotations reading, “E.R.W” trailing the mention of said supervisor. What’s required of you was delivered plain written and patent on that shoddy newspaper, held thick in your intrigued thumbs; Keep the forest from catching wild fire.

You fiddled the idea. Should I? Or should I wallow the summer away? Fiddled it anxiously, fiddled it needily, bumped the clumped rim of the newsprint on your cupid's bow in bending rumination, steadied it cause newspaper smells oddly good— but next to minutes racing hours upon musing, a conclusion had to knock your static looping of gloomdom in the butt.

One phone call, and the bird would be barred again. Pesterer, Elaine the Terrible, would be cast back where eyes can't roll over the cottony clouds. Just a couple fucking prods to your number–pad, might genuinely un–drain you.

Luckily, you aren't an idiot reared to take bullshit longer than meritted.

You took the job.

May 30th, 1995, 7:28 PM.

What does any clever pedestrian traipsing capricious terrain store in their pack to avoid total gangly–branch–grips–of–nature butchery?

Item one; Black nylons— scratch that, you aren't getting paid to snag at every kink and curl of the forest, tighties of gossamery fabrics are a no–go. Citywear stays citywear. Double scratch on those sweet, blackberry Mary Janes too prized and polished to muck up in shit of the earth. Immolating the rigid underside of some chunky hiking boots to the unruly woodlands is the adrenaline pinnacle of out–worlding, come on. It proves you've got a hardy backbone and the right row of teeth to chew what you've bitten off, sullying boots ‘till the color is forevermore stained. Backup boots are tradition, so that's item number two. Best get used to cargo, ankle–length overalls and miscellaneous graphic tees, cause the rockies’ fashion gurus can't get enough of ‘em!

Clothing, check.

Swathes of ropes twined pumpkiny orange and plenty of clanging anchors to bolt them in, goddesses and gods forbid you be tight on anchors. Medical kits— duh, did you trudge all from yonder just to die out here? This country is dicey, at the cuddly claw of a bear, or not. Hair ties, scrunchies you hoarded as a teenager in the eighties, disposable camera to suit your flaky memories, and an eclectic dump of nutty and fruity cereal bars galore. Unless you're allergic. Substitute.

Accessories and essentials, check.

Ah, and a spare pistol and switchblade in replacement of newcomer paranoia! Keep that hush–hush though. No matches or lighters, obviously.

True American, illegal weaponry, check.

All this paraphernalia bangs and clangs heavily on the polyester holding of your backpack, straining your scruff uncomfortably as you tiptoe, scarcely tumble, and tread lightly across a log. It creaks, it groans, it wobbles slightly over the blaring white rush of a stream, suctioning your heart–to–stomach when it grinds a wee bit louder than you thought it should.

“Shit!” you crimp your torso in and dart wary hands on the timber beam at your feet, assuming a gawky newborn–bambi–pose in hesitation, shuddering in cracked tones, “This can't be the right way..”

Hoping on an evaporated sun, you frazzlingly testify in repetitive thought that the map mailed by the rangers a week prior led you on this perilous and incorrect path.. for the last two days. Winding and wounding, literally— your bruises are measureless and on top of that ache your skin to want no more of this. But, you have to. A boulevard of brown, short and stout, wrung unyielding from one gray side to the greener other, a shortcut. Assumed to be a shortcut, based on the route drawn by utter confusion.

Oh yeah, and remember the advertisement stating the park was twenty-five miles out?

Nothing about that hot-press, black-cat inked newspaper accounted for the extra eight weighing your ankles down and your motivation dead low. Twenty-five only stretched out unto the ranger parking lot. The entrance, for fuck's sake.

Shaky flit of your digits, they float gently off the carve–veined surface of the wood, unfolding your spine as you rise. “Wrong way—” you utter to your chest, oven–warm as it puffs, “—gotta be the wrong..”

Tentative–ism is normal here, right? Like, no way you're cautious and sweating at the brow for nothing. Right?

One foot— creeakkk— in front of the prudent other, two sailing lunges, three hurried hops and a matched thud soft as marshmallows plants your shoes to hallowed ground. Blades of verdant whiskers so innocent crush under, and it feels fucking— demeaning, actually. All that gulping and pausing.. for nothing.

You tuck a shoulder–glance to the makeshift ricket of a bridge, and blankface, “Didn't feel like killing me today?”

The tree bears no reply.

“Hmph, surprising. Seeing as someone killed you,” a sigh parts, fading into the whip and straightening of your head, “figured the pursuit of revenge doesn't stop at ghosts.” and the hoist of your boot up, carrying onward.

Sundown paints, crescent layers repose approaching moonlight and dying sunlight sprawls psychedelic limbs above you. Balance ambling in tiny bops only made the swirling grasp of those gradient rays more trippy on your eyes and coercive of daydreams, rot–nip for the brain. You spot nutbrown brick— a fireplace in your mind, fevered heat roasting on the inside wall of your forehead too. It was Christmas before the storm, a subzero December. And it was, in fact, colder than the unreachable heaven. Dad was hunkered down in front of that innocuous amber crackle, his right leg slack to the ground and his left arched in the neck of an acoustic guitar, arms plaiting its hollow curve into his chest. 1971, when the veil through and within was thin, and love–vomit poured so easily through. A time of justified ignorance; Childhood.

Stood you adjacently, legs short and posolutely not stout, dimpled in the knees. Aged two years, and mushy as ambrosia, contorting your mouth jubilant as you're told for the camera, contrary to your father with his expression drooping to his strumming fingers. Sickly sweets, adult–you unpurposefully neglects to twirl lips at, your extraordinary grins now turned ordinary flat–lines. Holiday memoirs, those spoiled ripe quick after adulthood bolted itself in the slabs of your tender spine and instilled an artificial love for labor and country, displacing nostalgia from ever being seen as a flesh existence.

“Say cheese!”

America is sub–human, and sub–humans created America, the imperfect cycle. Families tear, eagles outcry, friends drink their death, and the days continue to unfold without a trace of acknowledgement. Days exist where you soak festivities and stave off the pointer–finger poking at so called slack you relish, and some twenty dwindling years ahead the slowly deadening oak grove road, carousals will be criminally known as layabout–makers.

Joy is a luxury now.

A blockage prevents your foot from winching clean forward, meeting the bone–hard kiss of a boulder to sore your toes. “Fuck!” you brand your throat walls to a shout, pissed at the rock rather than your woolgather that lead you to said rock, “Fucking fuckhead rock!”

Woolgather means daydreams, by the way. Funner to use words that don't make a split of sense. Yay for English.

The sunset clouds dripped with a mania of fascination and had strung your brain to its hypnotic whims, like a siren had soloed a trance, drifting your mind somewhere utopian and phantasmagorical. It sounds silly, but, blanking out seems so often out of grasp from your control, you usually could never flag what caused it, when it started, and why. Nothing practical surfaces. Fuck, your head is so tangled upon memories, you haven't even noticed the progression of scenery twelve o’clock from you.

Ponderosa boughs band together where your eyes brush shapes and forage for a clue of what scene wants to greet you ahead. The sequestering silence of rustles indicates a clearing, possibly. Possible as it could be, you fully expected this cruel footslog to wallop your ass into a minefield, so you bet cards and course carefully beneath the crowns of pine, completely bent to the chance of another obstacle threatening your tender ankles. Leafy whispers above strum your ears brimmed with its sotto voce song, and then— colors it silently behind.

“Holy shit.”

Presence crumbles above you, and opens before you. The lookout. Wood shafts slant in opposing directions, up and up along four brawny beams in three consecutive layers, like a blocky cone. The face closest to you overlaps the backing rest, giving the illusion of tufted wooden legs sketched under all lackadaisical. Endgame daylight spies from behind this one–roomed cyclops, gushing final spurts of citrus rays as if it truly was an orange squeezed to pulp. So, the flank and forehead of that towering, mountainscaping lookout rolling a cold shoulder to the sun, paves in a tattered tapestry of garnet smokiness instead. Shadow of sundown. From where you sow feet, a football field apart, petty details are difficult to squint into clarity, but the window panes appear tawny, too.

An intimidation, “So much for a tiny room.” A beaute intimidation, “And no actual bathroom.” it makes you feel like a genuine insect compared.

A sort of stairwell serpent faintly chokes the foot, the calves, the thighs, and punctures kindly a mouth leading up to the skirting balcony hedged in many gaunt teeth. Tamping gravel closer, subtleties and fine points fade as the tower's plank–lined and flat underbelly turns to you. Larger and larger, it dips darkly from miniscule masquerade.

Bringing your decently aching foot to the first step, you press into the curb and meander your cruder aching— thanks to a random boulder— foot weirdly on the outer ridge of your boot. Making it up the stairs to fund yourself a fucking break was a palpable mockery in itself. Like, ‘Hey! Climb this long–ass stairwell for a teensy break before doing it all over again the next day!’.

Un–fucking–believable.

Fifty years of history and past rangers grate in your walk, the floorboards thump with their stories, thump into your skin— verse you a wordless eulogy. Each step is a sentence, and every sentence branches into a whole tree of genealogy, lives. Lifestyles you can't understand now, but will.

Really redundant of me to highlight the generations alive in those floorboards. The walk up there isn’t that exciting.

After the last step, you're met eye–to–frame with a scratched door, pygmy window centered and paper–screened from within, and the stories predating your stay inspire a comical theory, “Jeez— bears make it up here?” you half–suppress a snort, palming a fist on the doorknob coldly before rotating and giving sympathetic pressure to the door.. jammed.

“C’mon..” knuckles pulse into the knobs plate, gradually upping the force you pushed, “.. losing light out here..” eventually adding your other hand to sweeten the push.

Sure, a whole year has gone by since it homed somebody, and it's retro, but come on.

Breaking splinters into the door was your last intention, so you try so–so carefully— to some extent, “Please..” now butting the tip of your boot on the rim to ease it— ease, and finally pry, a clapback of wind blowing dusty, nightfall air past your crescent cheeks following the snap of the fallow door.

Thank goodness for your grace and balance, some days, avoiding a timely trip face–first to a floor so powdered in light dust, any kid would mistake it for a good time sweeping snow angels.

Not so good for the respiratory system though.

Muggy space filtering your lungs tightly, you cough out, “Gah— fuck!” nothing higher than the level of a guttural wheeze, your chest punching into your throat. Gaping out the last flock of butterflies clumped at your collarbones, the tickle inside calms, and you find your sights taking in a dark box. A dim orb of lily silver glow rests in the middle of the pall room, raising the natural, “Where's the ligh— ah, big clunky thing—”

Flicking the off–white and stubby nub attached to an impractically sized lightswitch, which frankly resembles an electric box externally, an essence of Apollo ladens the room. Lemony–gold light, passably bright off the redwood ceiling, and murmuring a low buzz through one ear, and out the other, your pupils caper along the contrasting shades awakened.

“Definitely retro, but.. no roommates.” spoke you, gingerly content with the colors piecing this camper pad together. You observe.

Forget–me–nots bled the cotton bedsheets baby blue, leavening the mattress with a tidy emotion as it's tucked, folded at the top and draped in a complimentary quilt— benevolent blues, hues your lids soften on. The bed beelined from the doorway, a corner counter fawn–brown as the wood extends adjacent to it, covering the northeastern angle of the room. Magpied brands of canned food clutter shelves, spines spanning thick books of epic poetry to sci–fi comics create a ribcage of literature along a compact bookcase perching that countertop, and sunken in the east side of it, a steel sink. It shimmered sunflower bands of light as you moved, a rainbow–arched faucet brightened completely.

Step by step, you draw near a circular table in the middle. Strange rods and gadgets stuck out of the borders, inlaid glass protecting a local map so sleek you could see a phantom of your face in it, and a black bar looming the width, so it rings with tangible importance. Of which you'll gauge about later. Truthfully, the journey by foot here? Dead–beating, your knees bloated, throbbed flesh hot, and almost buckled; fatigues infamous way of scolding you to sit the fuck—

“Sup Maple lake, you there?”

A pang hammers to your heart, and a crawlish wave of startled blood pales from your face and drops to your jaw, “Jesus!” sweat hitting you a blink after, every normal function just— flunked. That voice, more like a ruptured stereo sizzling, caught you the fuck off guard. Now you dither, dumbassery taking your eyes through a new loop of figuring out where–why–how and what the robotic intruder wants.

But pre–realizing, your ears perk to a more coherent, and outstretched string of static, “C'mon, know you're checked in.” and post–realization tugs your eyes to a mustardy n’ black cased device; a walkie–talkie.

Okay, way to creep recruits out. Whoever, for whatever reason— at the nick of night too, gimme’ a break. You wry, knitting raisin crinkles above your nose, trying to discern your palette of options; pick up the walkie, tap in and feign politeness in the shortest and sluggiest scraps of small talk to be done with the day, or rant off the bat— highlight how fucking late it is, and how taxing a double–goddamned–day hike made your head and patience feel. And right now, the second response route feels arguably more tempting than—

“This is Cordero Tower, calling in. Can see ya’ standing by the Osborne, by the way.”

Its staticy feedback has waned completely, densening a thick husk and tilting towards a honeyed undertone. Relaxed sounding or not, what the fuck.

You react predictably, flicking your chin west, then east only for you to meet the dead of night— thanks mountains— stalking perfectly in every single window. So, useless to check. Answering it was a yes–go, it would be sickenly awkward to thrust it under the rug now. Your knees pull forward, eyes calligraphing the power buttons tinted in cherry light, palm drawing to meet your focal point.

The case is ribbon gentle under your fingertips’ graze, fresh and in store–new condition. Maybe the only thing hot from the pot of newfangled technology. Plastic intricacies roll under until you settle on a swollen button, denting the plush of your finger as you press, hold, and speak. A crisp crackle activates your line, tuning you in.

Breath hesitates between your chords, “Maple.. lake.. speaking,” off–the–tongue words manifesting on–the–spot, “you can see me?”

“Yeah.” the walkie chuckles, sugary curl pitching up and through their tone, “Look out ur’ north window, you'll see her.”

Her?

Nooking your nose north, you only widen pupils on that same, starless coast of darkness nosing the rim of your window sills. What do they mean to—

“Nh–no,” You literally said north, “get closer to the window, n’ look up.” What, are you a fucking sparkling, rasp–voiced eagle?

“Fuck are you talking about,” mouthed you void of voice, stumped on what this person was getting at. Wedging your knuckles below the meshy underside of your backpacks right strap, you wrangle it down your arm as you glide rubbery sole along croaking oak, tossing that bag so cumbersome atop a lily white pillow— looking fresher than a daisy, and clamber the mattress pliantly dented to your knees to grasp a broader panorama.

And with that window hood washed over, a convoy of fireflies focus a tiny constellation in the murked glass. Little pinholes of light, dots in the distance. They rough–hew a blur, but the excess seconds taken to brood squints and balance the blurry blotches, an outline crops up. Another fire lookout, sprouting from rock and rise of a berg. Offspring of the distant cordillera that gives this whole park its sense of a cradled–woodland, but either way thought, a lookout hosts it home on top.

“You can see me from all the way out there?” you wondered, truly. I mean— at minimum, a sore sprawl of miles bridges you both.

“Mhm..” a pause loiters that fluid hum, then some really throaty syllables, “Binoculars~” you could almost envision— nah, feel the stare of those binocs, undoubtedly taking note of every contort in your body right now.

“Oh thats, totally.. not,” you blunt your tone, shying a few inches from the glass, “.. creepy.” awkwardly. “Uh, who are you anyways— are you like, uh, another recruit?” as you engage small talk, grumpy frown pouting, the habit of kissing your wrist to your jaw as you would a piglet–tailed telephone overruns your burnt out focus, having to wince the walkie away when your eardrums nearly burst.

Ouch.

“For one, I'm actually your supervisor. I know, I don't sound like a typical smoker–lunged, middle–aged white dude.” their tone gruffs and deepens to impersonate, finger air quotes practically radiating from the other end, “And two, my name is Ellie— Ellie Miller–Williams, if you care.”

“Don't.” you heave out the pain stretching your head, aching each time you simply thunk.

“Straightforward,” her timbre ups in approval, seemingly, “I like it. I like you, recruit I dunno’ the name of.” and a bubble hics her throat, quite audibly.

“Not single.” Wrong, just uninterested. Hooking two fingers in the fabric handle of your bag and craning it to the ground, with scattered grates of plastic buckles skating the floor.

“What?”

Oh, shit she wasn't— oops, ‘course she meant that platonically, heads so damn muggy, “Uh, it's—my name.. sorry I’m just a bit out of the loop—” Dumbass, unscramble your brain alphabet soup, will you?

“That’s a long ass name, what were your parents thinking? Haha.” Her duo–beat chuckle flares your humiliation, and then proceeds to pinch its swollen parts into total inflammation, “Where does it originate from?”

Cheesy bitch, “Can you not— I like, pfhh..” you temper yourself with a moon–cool blow to chap your lips and inflate your cheeks, ending up with a draw of an even more loosened tongue sour as it complains, “Did a whole two–day hike through the most torturous terrain just to get here, I really don't—”

Please.

And if gripes trudged through teeth aren't persuasive enough, you recess your bone–ache bod avidly in the springy haven of your bed which chirped at your weights shifting motions, collarbones packing down on your vocal chords. You shouldn't sound up to chat whatsoever. Instead, vehemently drained, “I just wanna get some shut eye, talk me over n’ the mornin’.” your thumb lying a button away from disconnecting.

“Hey, hey—” Ellie ushered, her slurry breath fogging up the mic. Lips squeak softly into it, smacking before an intone, “Can't I be a little curious?”

You synchronized in noise, sucking teeth behind heart–pursed lips, “Do you think somebody this exhausted has the appetite to entertain you?” stilling your thumb–pad on the power off key.

“If I keep bothering you,” that alone ticked you, her blatant drive to carry on when your brain rejected its substance, “.. yeah. Maybe you'll be nicer then too.. huph!” a heartier peep hicced up on the speaker, and right then that noise jogged a discovery.

“Are you drunk?” has to be.

Of course, she ignores the naked and sorely obvious, “Did your boyfriend break ur’ heart or something— an’ that's why you're out here?” bottle sloshing in the background of her mumble.

Dumbstruck, you furrow a miffy expression, “W–what, boyfriend?”

“Said you weren’t single.” she recalls, warmly unspinning the fuddle that knit your brows, “Think I forget so easily?” drawled like a sultry retort, baking your ears.

You a hundred percent forgot though.

Gosh, short–term memory sucks, or it's just your energy drought making you woozy. Blame it on lethargy, “No no, that was just.. tired talk. I thought you were hitting on me.”

“Oh? That's cute.” her choosing to say that latter statement unfolded discordantly, you seriously couldn’t gauge if that was a flirt, or another paper daisy— mock honey, a platonic notion. Even so, it sounded so damn smooth, lace to the ears. “But no, I wasn't— m'not like gay or ‘whutever.” stammered her, light snort fanning.

A stifled chuckle hops from your chest, mixing with hers, “Uhuh, cool.” halfway uncaring and halfway amused, bafflement working your facial muscles.

“Yeah, um, but seriously..” her voice drifts into a ponderous rasp, the faint rustles of flimsy paper licking page to page subtler than her speech, “what's got you out here, newbie?”

“Newbie. Really?” A brow pricks.

“I mean, you're new— new to the lookout, new to the job, in need of my phenomenal supervision and my wide range of knowledge. Yeah, a newbie.”

Then your brow mellows, tension held in your face dropping dead on backhanded flattery, “You are funnily agonizing.”

“Aw.” her scratchily suave coo has your jaw set like stone, “That's so sweet.” but her short–lived song has your heartstrings soaked in ripe honeycomb, touched to the core by sweetness nebulose and an assortment of some foreign threads. Thickened heart, tighter ribs, a churn to weaken your stomach, a maverick of things unfamiliar to you.

Momentaries, but still noticeable even if your senses were twisted backwards.

Chewing over how you'll begin to explain, a few letters sift through your chords, until you hook on a sigh, “Ah, well, I'm out here for a fuck ton of reasons—”

“Reasons, or— huhp, problems?” Ellie blurt–hics, nosy.

“..”

A brief gulp and exhale wheezes from her, “Sorry, it's the bourbons’— super good. Continue.”

You loosely split your mouth, gasping to exchange a gale for words pressing out, “A series of reasons, and problems, that I don't bother to lay on a grand platter, so you'll get a summary tossed on an appetizer plate.” you preface. Allow an elliptical gap to cut through, rousing her hum to let you know her ears are as intent–peaked as a Chihuahua’s, “Contact with my parents’ has gone cold, my last job made me want to hurl into a pack of crocodiles— and the city became too loud and too heavy–handed. Saw this job on the local paper, and got the hell out of dodge.”

An omissive summary, you meant.

There’s more that eats the heart. People can’t just.. drop the burden of knowledge wantonly on randos like they’re idling under fertile treetops waiting for the apples to plummet, biting into a pulpy biography. She’s just a girl, not a therapist.

A discomforted purr lengthens into her reply, “Mmmmh, ever try a drink or two?” her intoxicated reply.

“Oh, see,” you flap your hand and slap it to your denim clad thigh, “you are drunk.” as if she could even see your gesture.

“No, I’m Ellie, hmhm~” comes with a giggle, and you consider her state of insobriety to be— wavering, but it’s stimulating to hear her fluctuate between groaned jokes and extra raspy comments, “Still haven’t told me your name though.”

Some moments during this whole ‘Who are you?’ seminar made you concerned for your future here— if you’ll make it out psyche intact, but some moments found by winnowing through the illogical backtalk touched you with inbound camaraderie.

Invisible touches that inhabit your neck with a leak of your name so— sincerely. It transforms into a fairer sound on your ears when she repeats it, affirming it. Nobody else's teeth clutches your name so welcome as she.

“Hmm, ‘name kinda fits your voice.” odd commentary, but since composed with her already peculiar and drunken tongue, the shoe fits.

That said, crabby confusion seems easier to articulate, “Thanks, weirdo.” but lips rebellious, they press an inevitable grin together.

“No problem, sleepyhead.”

So many nicknames.

Recognizing that downtick in hubbubs and breaths on the walkie, checking out for the night posed as a passionate option the burden weighing your eyelids couldn't or shouldn't veto. So you haul your torso up, kick and poke your toes over ankles to butt your boots off prior planting your heels, whisking toward the lightswitch and committing your lookout to swell with the outside's dark fresco.

Stygian tones.

“Speaking of sleepy heads..” you taper off speech, leaving the rest to her— touch wood— wide enough, hopefully–not–drunk–enough imagination to fathom as you slide and slip desperately beneath woolen blankets, sleepy worries, and sentences sailed to rest.

“Aw man.” Ellie bums so, so stupidly, for comical value.

“Yeah, man.”

“Mpht—” wetness smacks, “wanted to bore a pretty girl to death with recruit regulations and syllabi..”

How would you know?

In reality, Ellie was reaching a transcendent caliber of wasted, drinking up your atmospherics and drunken to her gutly core. Woods hatch forlorn people; forlorn people get thirsty, “But, mhh, heads’ nearly falling off, whoof.” she expresses a soaring of vowels, but it parallels a gruff howl more.

Drowsy, buzzy jubilancy, plucking her flirty strums. You sugarcoat the flare in your chest hearing ‘pretty girl’, ears clicking to the swallow convincing your heart that Ellie was not flirting. As established; She’s under the influence, and not gay. Your brain repeats that, over and over, repeat, repeat, she isn’t flirting.

“Hey, here's a tip..” you inch the walkie a penny away from your flopped head, clefting your lip open, “Don't get drunk on the job. They didn't hire you to decoct your brain the day before chaperoning a recruit in the literal wilderness. So, stash that shit, n’ let's both get some shut eye, yeah?” and saying all that, may have just cashed in your last dose of breath and brain cells for the night.

Ellie being Ellie— well, what you suspect is a ‘her’ thing after these few speckled minutes, dopily laughs at you. And dammit if she wasn't glamoring a dopey smirk in accord, you’ll have gleaned wrong.

A voice, “Who’s the boss again?” her witty and cruel wisecrack, “They didn't pay you to boss the— hup, boss around.”

They will pay you to confront and reflect your spectrum of limits if this girl brushes their seams, that's for certain. Or, play God and lambast her, tender as milk.

There's even a stroke of a chance, that your crooked lips poached her dopey grin instead, “Kay, well, maybe they'll reimburse me for your poor services.”

“My services are not poor. You'll see, tomorrow.” the volume of her melts away, going muted under liquid swills clanging on glass.

“Please tell me that's the sound of you putting the bottle away.”

“Mhm!” came out plugged, the bottle confining her garble, then popping clean as a cork, “Fuck— okay,” she siphons air in, pure little clink tinting the end of her sharp–edged sniffle, “Make sleeping in earlier worth it t’morrow, wanna drive you nuts with my questions.” she nasals, drawing near the mic again.

Such a magpie, “Cause you're lonely?” and weird.

“Shut up,” she shushes you, a satin whisper light–hearted and quick on beat, “M’not lonely anymore, right?” The type of softly spoken outcry that would balloon your cheeks with soreness if you were face–to–face with the throat that conducts it. Involuntary smiles plague you everywhere. But there is no mouth, no larynx, no throat that you view the swallow of. Just a walkie, so you settle in stoicism.

You tug your upper–lip and pivot your eyes, drumming up something clever to combat, “In a sense. Not like we’re bunkmates, thank goodness.”

“Fuck you,” Ellie breaks into a cuss spout so serenely, she sounded small and harmless, “just go to bed.” reduced to birch in winter shed of its brittle autumn arguments.

“Don’t gotta tell me once.”

By the first full and emphatic giggle she cast just now that wasn’t suppressed nor achieved by humble pie, you take it that Ellie found you funnily harrowing just as her, two peas in an outstretched pod. Fault be with her, for getting wasted. Otherwise, you might have pried her skull open with questions dolled up as a pruner, clipping the forelimbs that are foliated in a messy breadth of first glance leaflets and attitudes until you piece it prettily, in a way that thralls you to never shrink your eyes back into their sockets. Drunk people are like prone beehives though, so you don't prod them.

Tomorrow, you can paint her portrait, or vice versa.

“Whatever you say, newbie.”

And with the whirry crunch of the walkie shutting off, Monday, came to a close.

if you enjoyed this chapter, please lmk what you thought!! i love getting asks about my content ♡

perm taglist: @whore4abby @aouiaa @ellieslittlewhore @baumbii @tlougrl @mina-281 @beabeebrie @fleshunger @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf @nicolicht @cosmikoo @xinyaya @sawaagyapong @reinersbigolboobies @brunettedolls-blog @syrenada @fairyysoiree @p4ison1vy @nil-eena @hi2647 @disaster-bi-suki @rarestdoll @narieater @hrtmal @eudaemoniaaaa @ellie-07063 @luvfaeri @carleenaelaine @kissyslut @ellieswh0r3 @beemillss @elsmissingfingers @bugaboodarling @slynxs @maleelee @savannahsdeath @littlegingerperson5 @seraphicsentences series taglist: @tearouthearts @planetloverr @elliesexual @isitadinosaur @eveshyper @3lli3l0v3r @yourmothersfavgirl @emst4rr @theloserqueen @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @whenlostinthedarkness @diddiqueen @deliriousrn

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feyarcher · 1 year ago

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Toronto people! Need furniture for cheap and can pick it up literally today (Monday April 29th)? I'm in the Annex, moving, and need to offload a bunch of stuff asap as in either before 5pm today or at like 9am on Tuesday. You have to come get it though and if able, ideally pay me like $20-50 cash for most things but if you are in a bind, I'm fine giving them for free.

Items that must gtfo:

-Blackbrown Ikea Malm double bedframe that lifts up for underbed storage*

-Small blackbrown Ikea table with 2 chairs (danderyd/ingolf I think)

-32" tv

-tiny blackbrown ikea tv stand, whatever their cheapest smallest one was. Free with tv if you want it.

-Small grey couch with double pull out bed*

-Brown faux leather armchair (sears rip)

-Black desk with one large drawer across the whole width. Has scuffs but 🤷‍♀️ (sears rip)

- Black 5 drawer dresser (sears rip)

- Portable AC unit. There is a tear in the hose that can probably be fixed with duct tape, but I leave that to the new owner.

- 2×4 Ikea Kallax in grey

- Half sized grey bookcase (wayfair)

Message me if you want something and can come get it. I can take pics in the morning if you ask for them too.

*bring 2 people. My back sucks and I cannot help you carry them. Also bed disassembly is up to you if desired but I do have tools you can use on this end.

#toronto #i have literally 0 clue what tags people use on tumblr to sell irl stuff #but getting this stuff to tumblr people somehow feels better than to kajiji people #which is where im listing everything in the morning #allie says stuff sometimes

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deancaspinefest · 2 months ago

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2025 Pinefest Sneak Peeks!

With only three weeks to go until posting season begins for the ninth annual Dean/Cas Pinefest, it's time to take a closer look at this year's crop of pine.

Keep reading for the full posting schedule, author and artist info, and links to a sneak preview of each fic!

Friday March 14 | If Only the Cat Could Talk Written by TwinOne, with art by golby moon

Saturday March 15 | Love's Menagerie Written by SamandDean76, with art by Mörökölli

Sunday March 16 | When You Least Expect It Written by FriendofCarlotta, with art by seidenapfel

Monday March 17 | Where the Angels Walk Written by LoversAntiquities, with art by szlez

Tuesday March 18 | hummingbird Written by Abi_in_the_Cosmos, with art by adromelke

Wednesday March 19 | Some things I still can't tell you Written by andimeantittosting, with art by sidewinder

Thursday March 20 | Stone Can’t Cry Written by Hectatess, with art by Sketcheun

Friday March 21 | NO TEAM TODAY

Saturday March 22 | Cosmic Consequences Written by MittenWraith, with art by Categoryfour

Sunday March 23 | Stairs in the Woods Written by blackhorsedances, with art by Kolumander

Monday March 24 | If I Loved You Less Written by one_more_offbeat_anthem, with art by TFWDuke

Tuesday March 25 | Angel Kisses Written by casblackfeathers, with art by onowey

Wednesday March 26 | I built you a garden, don't you know? Written by karlo1469, with art by MercurialKitty

Thursday March 27 | i hear them all calling my name Written by thatapolloguy (wingsandaharp), with art by medicatedmaniac

Friday March 28 | Looking Back, Fundamental Romance Written by Susu_st, with art by onowey

Saturday March 29 | You Lose Some, You Win Some Written by gay_dinosaur_1701, with art by Aggiedoll

Sunday March 30 | The Width of a Circle Written by imogenbynight, with art by Randi

Monday March 31 | Holy Roller Written by flowerssinherhair, with art by girlinthemirrorbluenight

Tuesday April 1 | NO TEAM TODAY

Wednesday April 2 | The light will lead you home Written by Desirae, with art by thestarsmakemedream

Thursday April 3 | Searching For Burning Feathers Written by Altiria, with art by stonelions

Friday April 4 | The Royal Runaway Written by Tossukka, with art by daffodilsonaprettystring

Saturday April 5 | NO TEAM TODAY (schedule change)

Sunday April 6 | Hand in Hand Written by golbygloom, with art by aerialworms-art

Monday April 7 | The Magic Words (that make everything all better) Written by iamianweareme, with art by TwinOne

Tuesday April 8 | willing to bite my own chain Written by an_ardent_rain, with art by verobatto

Wednesday April 9 | Fanfic Dreams Written by seidenapfel, with art by Witchy-Worm

Thursday April 10 | NO TEAM TODAY (schedule change)

Friday April 11 | begin again Written by dothraki_shieldmaiden, with art by PetraAmia

Thursday April 10 | Something happens (you wouldn't know it yet) Written by MiracleofWinchester, with art by hexentaenz

Until posting season begins... happy pining!

#destiel fic #destiel art #deancas fic #deancas art #deancas pinefest #pinefest #mod post #2025 promos

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sen-ya · 1 year ago

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Life After Info Post

[Click here to access the Life After Digital Comic Book]

Summary: Two years ago, a viral outbreak rose the dead. Considering how his life had gone up to this point, surgeon Trafalgar Law figured this might as well happen too. When a supply run into the nearby city gets intercepted by a seemingly reckless and impulsive former patient, the dependable routine Law had settled into in this new life shatters. He finds himself exposed — his body out in the infected landscape, his conscious clawing to define what he believes is right, his heart begrudgingly deciding to find a new home on his sleeve. Maybe there’s more than a virus roaming the new world that can bring a dead man back to life.

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence, zombies/body horror (but lbr I am not good at making scary things look scary)

Relationships: Luffy x Law

Update Schedule: New page every Monday/Wednesday/Friday

Page Count: [37 posted | 55 drawn]

Latest Update: [7/21/24] WOWEE did I get myself carried away this morning. I just spent 5 hours organizing my comics and creating the digital comic book pages. I could have spent that time drawing or idk not doing what I do for my job, but I cannot be stopped. Anyway I blocked out 30 pages of this comic last week and they include the most intense action sequence I've ever done in my gotdang life. Wish me luck because I am nervous about tying down all my drawings lmao.

OLD UPDATES:

[6/29/24] HULLO! I'm doing so bad at keeping my masterposts updated lately I am sorry. All pages of life after are tagged life after if you're ever looking between masterpost updates! Also exciting update, I finally have figured out all the different plot points i'm gonna be hitting (yay!). I got hung up on something for awhile that made me not wanna work on this project, but I'm back at it. I think we'll end up with 6-7 parts! I have probably another 80-100 pages to draw lol. Also i got the app Magic Poser and it's AWESOME and I immediately used it to block out sets cuz MAN I hate backgrounds.

[6/10/24] HELLO. I'm sorry I've been shit at updating my masterposts lately. It's easiest to do from my computer, which I rarely use, and life has been happening. I also can't believe I bungled the queue and posted pg19 before pg18 i am very sorry 🤦 Eventually I'll have to turn this into an airtable base I'm sure, but until that day comes where I have like 100 pages of this comic we're stickin to the regular post lmao

[5/26/23] I got real caught up in doing summer of lawlu comics this week and this is the first week since the first week of April I haven't drawn new Life After pages and it feels weird 🙊

[5/19/24] More Luffy backstory comin' this week! :^)

[5/12/24] Updating now so get myself on schedule to update on Sundays like I had been with my other comic master post!

[5/8/24] Thank you to everyone who's liked/reblogged/comment on the first few pages!! It means the world to me that anyone's reading my silly little comics.

[4/28/24] HULLO. It’s happeninnng. I’ve spent the last few weeks working on this comic, and I gotta make this post so I can start queuing pages & link this in them! This is the most like….legit? Comic endeavor I’ve undertaken perhaps….ever. I’m very nervous about committing to how long it will need to be lol. This story is dear to my heart — zombie content is kind of my very favorite. I’ve always found it to be a great backdrop for exploring themes like grief, coping with change, community, and learning to live again. It’ll be a long haul but I hope you’ll ride it out with me!! Tomorrow I’ll be posting the first two pages. After that a page will post every Monday/Wednesday/Friday. As of this post I’ve completed over 20 pages so that I have a good lead on what’s posting and continuing to write, so I’m hopeful that’s a cadence I’ll be able to maintain. I’ll update this post weekly to include the most recent pages the way I do with my main comics master post. All pages will be tagged 'Life After' and I'll tag any pages with zombies in them with 'zombie' for blacklisting etc.

#my art #life after

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china-shop · 1 month ago

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Coming soon: 520 Day Reverse Exchange 2025!!

The Annual Interdimensional Haixing-Dixing 520 Day Reverse Exchange is coming back for 2025!

520 sounds like "I love you" in Mandarin, so May 20th is a bit like Valentine's Day. To celebrate, we're back with the seventh annual 520 Day Reverse Exchange. As the name says, this is a reverse exchange: instead of making your request and that request being assigned to a writer/artist/fanwork creator, here:

You sign up with the kinds of things you enjoy creating.

You choose three writers/artists/fanwork creators based on anonymised ads.

You make a request of each of them based on what they enjoy creating.

You are assigned one request to create for, based on your offer.

You receive a gift from one of the creators you chose.

(An updated rules/info post will go up before sign-ups open, but here is last year's for reference.)

This year's schedule

Sign-ups part 1 - offers: Saturday 22 March - Friday 28 March Sign-ups part 2 - requests: Saturday 29 March - Friday 4 April Matching: Saturday 5 April - Tuesday 8 April Assignments out: Wednesday 9 April at the latest Deadline: Monday 13 May Work reveals: Monday 20 May (there is no anon period)

This exchange is run on Dreamwidth and AO3, but you don’t need a Dreamwidth account to participate. We’d love it if you filled out or anon-commented on the interest poll on Dreamwidth, but that’s also not required. :-)

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mailed-it · 2 months ago

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Do you like receiving little gifts in the mail? Do you like making fun things for your favorite series? If the answer is yes, then you’re in the right place: Welcome to Mailed it!, a multi-fandom postcard exchange for Thai dramas, mini-series, and movies.

For this exchange, participants will make one 4x6 inch or A6 postcard for a fandom their giftee requested. In return, they will receive at least one 4x6 inch or A6 postcard for a fandom they have requested. This exchange is open to anyone and everyone who wants to spread a little love, from all around the world and with all levels of arts and crafts experience.

This exchange will run from Feb 20, when fandom nominations open, to May 28, when we estimate all participants will have received their gift postcard(s) and the zine PDF of all cards is released. Postcards are expected to be sent in the mail to the organizer by April 14, who will then mail postcards to recipients to ensure that everyone is sent a postcard and to keep personal information safe with only one person.

If you’re interested, you can find more information in our information doc here and our FAQ here. Follow our tumblr to keep up with exchange updates, or join us on our exchange discord here.

Hope to see you there! ;)

Edit: The sign-up post can be found here.

See our exchange schedule under the cut:

Timeline

Nominations: February 20 - 27, 2025

Sign-ups: February 28 - March 16, 2025

Assignments given out: March 20, 2025

Check-in: April 3 - 5, 2025

Submissions due: April 13, 2025 || *Submission form and photo proof due. Physical postcards to be mailed out to Cookie by this day (or, first thing Monday, April 14).

Postcards sent [tentative]: May 12, 2025, to international participants and May 19, 2025, to US participants. || *Postcards mailed out by Cookie to participants.

Zine released (Official reveals) [tentative]: May 28, 2025

#thai drama postcard exchange #information #schedule

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coldsaturn · 2 months ago

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TSC TIMELINE

Just like I did with TKM, I needed something a bit more detailed for TSC for fic and meta reference, so here it is for anyone needing it!

March 14, Wednesday: Jean wakes up in the evening with Renee sitting on a chair at the foot of the bed.

March 15, Thursday: Jean wakes up again, Renee tells him he's at Abby's and how she took him from the Nest. "I am Jean Moreau. My place is at Evermore. I will endure." He also talks with Abby and then Wymack. "I know why you think you have to go back to Evermore, and I know what's waiting for you there. I will burn this house down before I let him touch you again."

March 18, Sunday: Kevin visits. He tells Jean that he told about Evermore because he was scared he would have been sent back if he hadn't. "I knew you wouldn't come with me." "My place is at Evermore, but you did not have to slit my throat on the way out." Kevin tries to convince him to change team, says USC has a real chance this year. "Your blind loyalty to those clowns is exhausting." "Some of them you like." Kevin talks about Neil, and Jean says Riko waterboarded him but had to stop before drowning him for real because Jean's own trauma with water kept him from properly holding him down.

March 19, Monday: Kevin is back with Neil. "But you'll listen, because I just told Ichirou where you are" and "You are a Moreau. You belong to the Moriyamas. But not those ones, not anymore."

March, 20 Tuesday: Wymack tells him he can study full remote for now, and Jean writes to Zane, who's as happy to hear from him as we can imagine.

March, 23 Friday: Foxes' rematch against Binghamton. Jean meets Bee, then watches the match. "It’d be a few years yet before Andrew was truly worth Kevin’s obsession with him, but watching him tonight put Jean’s mind at ease. The perfect Court was in dire need of a goalkeeper." <3 Kevin says that Wymack is his dad during the post-match interview, and "never been skiing? I'd like to try it one day, though."

March, 24 Saturday: Kevin visits Jean again, this time with Thea. She calls Riko an asshole and a bully, but she doesn't believe he'd go that far to hurt Jean, and when Jean covers for Riko, she tries to guess it was their coach because maybe Jean was "up to your old tricks". Jean tells her to trust Kevin when he tells her what happened to his hand, but not to make Jean spell out his own story.

March 30, Friday: Foxes vs Trojans. Kevin asks Jeremy to take Jean with them for the following year's lineup. They decide to play with as many players as the Foxes have, and they lose. After the match, Jeremy asks Rhemann about Jean.

March 31, Saturday: Jeremy is back home but takes a taxi to Laila and Cat's place. He calls Jean. Who immediately hangs up lol. Jeremy tells Laila about him. Jean, in the meantime, had called Kevin. "I am not a Raven, but if I am not a Raven then I am just Jean Moreau, but—" He calls Jeremy and tells him to add in the contract that Jean cannot ruin USC's image in public.

April 2, Monday: Wymack comes for dinner with USC paperwork.

April 4, Wednesday: Renee stops by and talk about USC, since Jean hasn't decided yet. "Don't you think you're overdue for some rainbows?" "Yours was the first I saw in years" </3 Jean opens up a bit more and Renee tells him to rediscover tiny miracles in the little things. She kisses his temple before going away <3 "I am not a Raven." He signs the papers.

April 5, Thursday: Jeremy finds out Jean is 19.

April 6, Friday: USC-Ravens match. Jeremy post-match interview "He just won't be back in black." “No. Edgar Allan is undefeated.” “When we beat them in two weeks, you and I will revisit this conversation.”

End of the week (probably 13-14): "gifts" from the Ravens. They give back Jean's stuff but it's all destroyed. Bee goes to Jean and he asks to be accompanied to the court. "A cool evening breeze"

April 19, Thursday: Abby tells Jean that they have to move him somewhere else or he'll be alone. He accepts to go to Fox Tower.

April 20, Friday: Neil comes pick him up. "Nathaniel was different; he always would be. He wasn't a Raven, but he was, same as Jean. He was Jean's misplaced forever partner" Neil says that he'll repay Jean for the help at the Nest by beating Riko that night. Once at the dorm, Jean sees Kevin's new tattoo. "The smile that curved Nathaniel’s mouth was slow and hungry and hateful. It twitched a bit as Nathaniel tried to force it away, but he finally had to use the side of his hand to smooth it off his face. The look he turned on Jean was almost serene, but Jean still saw the madness in his eyes" obsessed with this. "Fuck USC and all their games past and present. Kevin Day was crossing Evermore’s court with his racquet in his left hand." and this too. We get Jean's commentary for what happened right after the match when Riko tried to kill Neil.

April 21, Saturday: Renee tells Jean to avoid TV and news that day, but she hadn't taken Jeremy into account, who spoils the news shortly after. Jean destroys the dorm room. He wakes up later with Renee and Neil. "He waited until Jean turned a haunted stare on him before cocking his fingers like a gun and pressing them to his own temple. “Pop, and he was gone. It’s impressive, isn’t it? How easily these monsters die in the end.” And finally, for the first time, Jean calls him by his name <3 "Neil, it was a good game."

April 23, Monday: Start of finals. Jean takes Renee's photo.

April 25, Wednesday: Riko's funeral.

April 27, Friday: Renee brings with her Jeremy's letter and Jean's plane ticket. "Who is Jean Moreau when he is not a Raven?" and "We are the right people, I think. This is just...the wrong time." and "Rainbows"

April 30, Monday: Jean, Neil, Kevin and Andrew all under Abby's roof. Kevin tells Jean that Neil and Andrew sometimes talk in German. "Jean noticed how Andrew and Neil moved like they were caught in each other's gravity" During the week, the Ravens deface PSU campus.

May 2, Wednesday: Edgar Allan closes the Nest. Wymack says that Jean will be safer at USC because "no one's stupid enough to start a fight with them" (hahahaahah ha ha...) Meanwhile, Jeremy talks to his sister Annie and we get the first hints of his backstory. It's also Cat and Laila's anniversary. Lucas tells Jeremy that Grayson came home and he's not okay.

May 3, Thursday: Jean arrives in LA and he meets Jeremy, who's playing with a yoyo and has dimples when he smiles. Their conversation goes as well as one can imagine: Jean thinks the Trojans all study one thing, Jeremy is completely ????? about everything Jean says, then Jeremy asks to be taught French, Jean spirals, Jeremy tries to touch his shoulder and Jean reacts so strongly they almost crash the car. They arrive and Jean meets Cat. Jeremy will be Jean's partner. Cat teases Jeremy on how hot Jean is, then Jean meets Laila. Talking about the Ravens “Let them all burn. I hope none of them survive.” Then they go to court. Jeremy doesn't give Jean the code because they're about to lose access until mid-June anyway. Jean gets checked up by Davis. Then they stop to buy clothes. More dialogues where Jeremy understands that Jean was in a cult, and Kevin texts him the extent of Jean's injuries. They go back home, Cat starts teaching Jean how to cook. “I am Jean Moreau,” he told her. “I have always gotten exactly what I deserve.”

May 4, Friday: Jeremy goes blond and Jean bluescreens. They learn Jean calls Coach "master"

May 11, Friday: Lucas gets beaten up by Grayson. Wayne Berger is dead. In the following conversation Jean hits Laila. Jean texts Renee and she tells him everything and nothing about her holidays.

May 21, Monday: Jeremy is officially on holiday and can stay at Laila and Cat's house. He moves in with Jean. Lucas wants to meet Jean, but the suggestion of doing it at the beach triggers Jean. "I am Jean Moreau. I am not a Raven. I am not at Evermore."

May 22, Tuesday: Jean bluescreens seeing Jeremy and Laila in swimming outfits. They go to the beach, Jeremy stares at Jean while he applies sunscreen and fails when he asks Jean if he wants help lol. They meet Cody and Lucas. Lucas believes Grayson's lies about Jean, and implies Jeremy accepted Jean only because he's gay. Jean accidentally lets slip out just how twisted the lie that he slept his way to number 4 is, but the dialogues is interrupted by Cody telling them that Colleen Jenkins is dead. Jean calls Josiah to warn about Zane. “They didn’t deserve this.” Back at home, they decide for a second bed in Jean's room.

May 23, Wednesday: One of the campus psychiatrists visits them, Jean hates him and in the end opts for Bee.

June: Ichirou gives a short comment on TV, they put two twin beds in Jean's room.

June 18, Monday: Jeremy and Jean are summoned to the stadium. Jean is cleared for practice with a no-touch jersey. Jeremy bluescreens when he sees Jean shirtless. Then he sees Jean's scars and when he asks him, Jean uses Renee's suggested lie and tells him it was his father's fault. "It's not about size, anyway" "Defensive" "Say yes, Jeremy" and then Jean does and Jeremy bluescreens again. Lisinski brings them to the pool, they learn just how bad water triggers him. "You are going to be my success story: Jean Moreau the person, not Jean Moreau of the perfect Court. You take care of one, and I’ll take care of the other.”

June 22, Friday: Jeremy organizes a get-together with some of the team. He finds Renee's photograph, they share their respective orientations.

June 23, Saturday: Jean meets the floozy line. Jean worries for Cody, then Cat innocently asks if Laila has already bought Jean a sex toy. Cat teaches Jean her favorite line "Have a winning day!"

June 25, Monday: First workout with the team. Jean meets the rest of the team, they see his scars. During practice Jean struggles with his instincts to play Raven style. Later, they start working on a class schedule for Jean. Then they find his destroyed notebooks. They pressure Jean into admitting Riko hurt him. “You are Jean Moreau. Your place is here with me, with us. I’m your captain. You’re my partner. We’re supposed to be doing this together, aren’t we? Stop leaving me behind. Look at me.” Jeremy calls Kevin to get confirmation about Riko when Jean refuses to.

June 27, Wednesday: Edgar Allan press conference, and Jean refuses to watch. "I am not a Raven" Lucas and Jean fight. They talk a bit, but Lucas doesn't trust him. We learn Grayson will be back on Saturday. Cat takes Jean out on her bike, Jean tells her he has a sister. Open roads.

June 28, Thursday: Jean expects Rhemann to hit him because he can't play Trojan style yet. Painful dialogue with Rhemann trying to get some truth out of Jean, but he won't accuse his Coach, let alone others. Lucas asks him to stay after practice, and Grayson has his reunion with Jean. "no one had given him the code for this keypad. Unsteady fingers put in the Raven digits over and over and over." Jean refuses to call the police for Grayson. Lucas apologizes. Once back home, Jean gets a message from Neil who's in LA. They get into the car so Neil can drive them to his uncle and Jean signs Grayson's death warrant when he compares him to Drake in front of Neil. They meet with Stuart, he tells Jean his sister is dead. The FBI finds them and they give the new version of their backstory where their families were tied together. Once back home, Jean destroys the destroyed notebooks. “You made me a promise, so I will hold you to that: help me survive what comes next.” “Is that all I can do?” “It is what only you can do,” Jean said. “I trust you.” "Friends."

#tsc #aftg #the sunshine court #tfc timeline #I hope I didn't mess anything up

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thel8shift · 3 months ago

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Hogwarts As A School

i saw someone else do this and our drs are vastly different in how hogwarts schooling is ran so i thought i’d post my version. i’ve been shifting to Hogwarts in a few different eras for years now and this is how school has always ran for me. i shift to a university style hogwarts btw, first 5 years are like undergrad, and then you can leave after 5th year if you don’t need it for your work. 6th and 7th years are the equivalent of grad school.

School Size

hogwarts is much smaller than many of you think

the castle itself is massive but the population is quite small

there’s about 280 students at Hogwarts give or take some. 10ish students per house, per year. my graduation class at hogwarts in 38 in my golden trio dr, and 45 in my marauders dr

the wizarding population of the uk is much smaller than you’d think it is

Classes

All classes are 2 times per week minus astronomy

astronomy is at midnight or later on different days for each year. Mondays are 2nd years, Tuesday is 3rd years, Wednesday is 1st years (as per the first book) Thursdays are 4th years, 5th years are Wednesdays at 1 am, 6th years are Tuesdays at 1am, 7th years are Mondays at 1am

classes start at 9am Monday through Friday and last class ends at 3pm

for your first two years, you don’t have any electives (per the books) so you have a lot more free time. out of 20 class slots (minus astronomy time) 13 are taking up for 1st years, and 12 for 2nd years, Flying being the extra class for 1st years

when your 3rd year comes, you must take at least 2 electives, but you can take up to 4 without needing a time turner like Hermiome in the 3rd book. 6 core classes plus 4 electives taking up all 20 class slots. (i am doing this in my 5th year and it’s HELL. but i want the OWLs so i suffer)

Testing

for final exams every year each class has a written test where you go over your theoretical knowledge of magic, and a practical test where you get to test the skills you’ve learned over the semester.

exams are taken twice a year in december and june with mid terms in october and march

OWLs are taken at the end of your 5th year, and then you take NEWTs at the end of your 6th year. you have to test at a certain level for each class to be able to take OWL/NEWT level classes

General Things

breakfast is from 7am to 8:30, lunch is from 12pm to 12:45, dinner is from 6 to 7:30

uniforms do not have to be worn for meals unless there is a special event

you also do not have to sit out your house table unless there is a special event

Sports/Clubs

club sign ups are always the second weekend back so around the middle of September

you can sign up for as many clubs as you like as long as you can balance them

you can also sign up for things like study groups or house study halls, Ravenclaw house study is on Wednesday after classes from 3:30 to 5:30

Quidditch try outs are always at the beginning of October, and the season starts the first weekend in November.

Canonically there’s only about 6 games of quidditch but that’s dumb so there’s quidditch most saturdays November to April with the games starting at around 10am

thats everything i can think of right now! if you have any questions feel free to send me an ask!

#shifting antis dni #shifting community #shiftblr #shifting blog #reality shifting #shifters #harry potter dr #hogwarts dr

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raccoonfallsharder · 3 months ago

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january aspirations

for those anxiously waiting, cicatrix .⋆☁︎ :꧂already has more chapters drafted but will be paused until mid/late february to give me some recovery-time from this busy season of writing and life lol.

** i started out the new year really sick. like, had-to-take-a-nap-after-eating, then-slept-all-day-today sick. and since one of my resolutions is to be more flexible with myself on deadlines, i’m removing the current posting dates for the last two borealis fics. i do hope to get them both out this month, and i will update this post when i have a clearer idea of when that might happen, as well as posting a preview a few days in advance so if you’re waiting, you hopefully won’t miss it. thank you from the bottom of my heart for your patience!!

thursday, january 9. ✩࿐࿔ take what you need | cook some goddamn food | for @pretty-in-possible ✮

monday, january 13 (tentative). borealis | kiss me at midnight | mcu | oneshot. ❤︎❤︎

tuesday, january 28. ✩࿐࿔ take what you need | clean your frickin' room | for nonnie ✮

friday, january 31. borealis | the holiday gun show | mcu | oneshot. ❤︎❤︎

other things i'm working on for february and beyond...

february estimates

kiss kiss BANG BANG challenge all month long~ ✩❤︎

tuesday, february 11. ✩࿐࿔ take what you need | stop hittin' shit. | RocketRaccoonsFluffyTail on ao3 ✮

tuesday, february 20. ✩࿐࿔ take what you need | do your frickin homework! | for nonnie ✮

thursday, february 27. cicatrix | chapter twenty-seven. la gaudière. ✩

march estimates

thursday, february 6. rocket raccoon prompt week | day seven. bite. | ao3 crosspost ✮

thursday, february 13. florescence❀. chapter six year five: dispersal. ❤︎❤︎ FINALE.

thursday, march 6. defiance | oneshot | mcu ✮✩

thursday, march 13. the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip | part four. south dakota. | ao3 crosspost ✮

thursday, march 20. cicatrix. | chapter twenty-eight. | anderance. ✩

thursday, march 27.Domestic Scenes in Space Travel. Untitled. FINALE. ❤︎❤︎

april estimates

thursday, april 3.cicatrix. | chapter twenty-nine. | amoransia. ??

thursday, april 10. the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip | part five. montana. | ao3 crosspost ✮

thursday, april 17.cicatrix. | chapter thirty. | dolorblindness. ??

thursday, april 24. love is blind: andromeda. | episode one. ✩

may estimates.

thursday, may 1.cicatrix. | chapter thirty-one. | ??. ??

thursday, may 8. the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip | part six. idaho. washington. | ao3 crosspost ✮

thursday, may 15.cicatrix. | chapter thirty-two. | mauerbauertraurigkeit. ??

thursday, may 22. hot local dads in your spaceport | oneshot ??

thursday, may 29. cicatrix. | chapter thirty-three. | ??. ??

resume crosspostingto ao3

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip | part seven.you'vearrived at your destination. | ao3 crosspost

ᯓ⋆｡°✩practice: an eidos-rocket minific ✩

fistful of sunlight✩

new/ongoing projects

love is blind: andromeda. | episode two. ✩❤︎

possible spring one-shot [sex-pollen!]. could get moved to kinktober. ❤︎‬❤︎

untitled expansive maneuvers expansion. chapter one. ✩ ❤︎‬ ❤︎‬❤︎

universe killer [1/4]. ✩

other future projects

#jan25 #aspirations

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ncisfranchise-source · 6 months ago

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When Mark Harmon first read the guest role of Naval Criminal Investigative Service special agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs on JAG in 2003, one thing stood out immediately.

"The name caught me," Harmon, who couldn't have known then what a TV mainstay Gibbs would become, tells PEOPLE.

NCIS, on which Harmon starred for 19 seasons until 2021, remains one of TV's most popular crime franchises. It also hit its 1,000th episode this April and has spawned four spinoffs.

Now, a fifth, NCIS: Origins, set in 1991, follows young Gibbs.

"It's an NCIS-verse you haven't seen before," says Austin Stowell, 39, who inherits the character. Harmon, executive producing and narrating the new series — and appearing in its debut episode on Oct. 14 on CBS — agrees. “We're not trying to do something over again.”

For Stowell, leading a highly anticipated network prequel is “the opportunity of a lifetime.” Watching the two-part premiere, he tells PEOPLE, proved emotional. “I was a mess at the end of it.”

To breathe new life into an iconic character, Stowell “had to become Gibbs’ biggest fan,” he adds. Luckily, in Harmon, he had a mentor with a lot of experience. Ahead of the Monday, Oct. 14 premiere, PEOPLE caught up with the duo for a sneak peek at NCIS: Origins.

youtube

PEOPLE: Mark, what do you remember about casting Austin as a 1991-era Leroy Jethro Gibbs? HARMON: I felt the room jump a little when Austin came in, before he said anything. He walked out and someone said, “I'll just say it, that's a movie star.” And there was heavy competition there. There were a lot of good [actors in contention].

Austin, what about your introduction to your character? STOWELL: If I can start imagining myself as [a character], in their shoes, then I know it's working. I read the first episode, and right away there were lots of parallels to my life. I knew the show, I knew the character — not as intimately as I do now — but just as I started to turn the pages, I had these moments over and over again, saying, “Oh, I know this guy.”

So how did you go about approaching playing a younger version of Gibbs, this icon Mark brought to life? STOWELL: I knew I had something that I could bring to the character that was very real, that was palpable. But I also knew that I was stepping into a character that was creative, created and filled out and beloved by this guy for 20 years. And I wanted to pay homage to his acting talent. So I wasn't doing an impression, but I was trying to encapsulate who I thought Mark was. And I do that every day now. He leads by example. We're all here because of him. I think about him constantly. [To Harmon] I dream about you. Which is — HARMON: A little frightening! STOWELL: I dream about the show, almost every night. He's given me the greatest gift that I could ask for… This is the Gibbs who's making mistakes, who's living with ghosts and trying to put his life back together. And that's a lot of fun for me to play. HARMON: Austin has to birth this guy. He's got the challenge and also the gift to be able to play this guy younger and to be able to let him be the newbie.

Talk about balancing making a different show with inheriting such a beloved TV franchise. How are you thinking about its legacy? STOWELL: What the mothership [NCIS] did so well was create this feeling of family. Like you knew the characters that you were inviting into your home. And I think that's a big difference between films and television, especially episodic television like this. You choose to turn on the TV when you have your intimate moments with your family. It's time when you're cooking dinner, it's time when you're relaxing after a day of work, sitting on the sofa with your loved ones. That is a big responsibility for a show like this.

Does that ever feel daunting? STOWELL: No, it's not. It only means I have to come to that level. And that's okay with me. I like reaching for a bar that's higher, that fuels me when I get out of bed in the morning. The fact that I know that there's 300 million people out there who are waiting to see what this is only makes me fight harder and make me want to fulfill their expectations. HARMON: He's got his eye on the ball. In some ways, it gets bigger every day, the responsibility of it. But right now he's just trying to make the work be the best it can be every day. That's got really nothing to do with what you do in acting class. It's got more to do with who you are as a human being. STOWELL: I got to be writing all this down! This is another part of the value that Mark brings to the table is that he comes and talks to all of us… Immediately, I store all that in my head. I've never been on a show like this. I've never been a [number one on the call sheet] before. This is all brand new to me. So he comes to offer that kind of advice and that immediately, I store all that in my head.

What is the Origins shooting schedule like? HARMON: They're working long hours right now. They're working night hours. It's all part of it. STOWELL: You're going to work every day. I wake up, I train, learn my lines, go to set. Wash, rinse, repeat, Monday through Friday. HARMON: And you get questions like, "Well, how do you handle that?" STOWELL: You just do.

What is your favorite thing about creating this new show? STOWELL: We've all worked really hard at this and we're trying to get it right. It looks beautiful. I [am] just really happy for all of our crew, that it's going to be something that we're all going to be proud of... I've gotten to know them, so many, really intimately, I know about their kids and their plans for the weekends. It's not lost on me that a big part of that responsibility is to keep everybody at work. I like that responsibility. It gives me great purpose. I don't just go to work for me, I go to work with everyone… I've been able to concentrate on what I need to concentrate on because I do feel like I have a safety net. HARMON: When I was selling shoes, I used to always look at my watch and I'd go, "Lost four hours today. Where are we going to make that up?" Guess what? At a certain point you stop looking at your watch. Maybe sleep is a little overrated. You care about your crew… You walk on the set, you can feel it. STOWELL: We're a family already. HARMON: And if you can bring that to it too, what Austin's talking about, then you venture into the territory of something special and it becoming a little more than a job. This is a place where everybody's busting their tail because they want it to be good. It’s not about a paycheck.

#ncis #ncis origins #interview #mark harmon #austin stowell #Youtube

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lesmisshippingshowdown · 2 days ago

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Les Mis Shipping Showdown Semi Finals: Official Winners Reveal

(crawls onto the blog tastefully hungover) sorry this is late, lads. next time i will remember my vital modly duties before making social plans for the exact same night steals expire

Anyway, onto what's really important in life: The Les Mis Shipping Showdown semi finals.

Without further ado, the winners ARE:

Enjolras/Grantaire (83.8%) vs. Joly/Bossuet/Musichetta (16.2%)

In the end, Enjoltaire nation managed to extend an already resounding popular vote lead through the power of steals, securing their place in the grand final. JBM nation also produced some fantastic steal works, and it was amazing to see both fanbases get properly involved in the stealing game after being rather quiet in preceding rounds! But here we are, the most popular Les Mis ship on AO3 (by some 10,000 works) is in the final. One could say this was inevitable all along, but whether or not they take the overall victory is still up in the air, considering the formidable opponent they'll be up against...

Cosette/Éponine (67.8%) vs. Enjolras/Combeferre (32.2%)

You wouldn't guess it from how close this result is to the original popular vote totals, but this was an INTENSE AND PROLIFIC steal game from both sides. We already knew it would be, with both ships successfully stealing their respective quarter finals in their favour, but the numbers say it all - Team Eposette produced 59.3 points' worth of steal works, with Enjolferre nation's grand total coming to 54.4 points. In the end, the leaders of the tournament's overall steal points championship won the day, and it looks like we'll be debating an age old question in the final: yaoi or yuri? 🧐

Now onto the admin side of things:

TROUBLESHOOTING

To our knowledge, every steal submitted for this round has been counted into our total and either reblogged or queued. If you can't see your post on this blog yet and are worried it's not been counted, please follow these steps in order:

Check your notes for a like from my main (@lonelyroommp3) - if your post has been seen and queued (but not reblogged here yet) my url should be in there :)

Make sure neither myself or my co-mod @glindalesbian are blocked - we can't see your steals if this is the case

If, and ONLY if, you come up short on these options, send us an ask so that we can double check if your steal has been counted. Your deadline for checks & appeals is 22:00 BST (UTC+1) TONIGHT. After that point I will be taking the results as official and queueing the final polls.

FINALS SCHEDULE + SPECIAL MOD NEWS

The GRAND FINAL POLL will be dropping at 20:00 BST (UTC +1) this Friday, 11th April. This will be a week long poll as usual.

There will also be a third place playoff poll between Enjolras/Combeferre and JBM dropping at 19:00 BST (UTC +1) on Friday, 11th April. This poll will only run for three days.

As a friendly reminder there is NO POLL STEALING in the final or the third place playoff. You've made it this far with a little help from your incredible fanwork making capabilities, but now you're on your own - it's time to settle this the old school way, with good old votes and propaganda.

Also, please note that both mods will be away this weekend and not able to answer asks with any regularity, if at all. This is for a VERY important reason: @glindalesbian is GETTING MARRIED ON SATURDAY!!!!! Everybody send them your congratulations and best wishes. Or else 🔪

(So basically, please behave in our absence and only message us if it is genuinely, truly urgent. We’re like your parents leaving you alone in the house for the weekend and begging you not to throw an absolute blowout discourse rager)

STEAL OFF 2 REMINDER

Finally, a reminder that Steal Off 2 opens for submissions at 00:01 BST (UTC+1) on Monday 21st April. Start getting your final works ready, and check the linked post for more details & rules.

Of course, the leaderboard has shifted a little over the course of this week with 4 ships submitting steals for the semi finals. Right now it looks a little something like this:

Cosette/Éponine (168)

Enjolras/Combeferre (88.6)

Jehan/Montparnasse (76.1)

Valjean/Javert (70.3)

Turning Woman #3/Musichetta (19.1)

Courfeyrac/Marius (18)

Enjolras/Grantaire (15.6)

Combeferre/Courfeyrac (5.5)

Marius/Cosette (5.3)*

Joly/Bossuet/Musichetta (5.3)*

Éponine/Montparnasse (2.7)

Enjolras/Feuilly (2.2)

Combeferre/Grantaire (0.7)

(*technically tied for 9th place. we might figure out a tiebreaker system later)

#les mis #les mis shipping showdown #lmss semi finals

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witchthewriter · 2 years ago

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𝑨𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒚 𝑳𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒔!

So, I’ve decided to create indepth posts about astrology; the signs/placements, planets, and houses. I have a short overview here. Everyone has a whole birth chart, here's a free site that I use and trust (don't go on co-astrology it's full of stereotypes and misinformation.)

First lesson: 𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐒 🌞

The sun sign is what the media and the general population know as your ‘star’ and/or zodiac sign. But it doesn’t represent you as a whole. In fact, your Sun sign is your ego, how you see yourself, self-expression, what motivates you etc. Yes, it’s your personality, but it’s your basic personality. There’s a lot more to a person, especially according to astrology.

Sun in Fire signs: bold, upfront, outgoing, loyal

Sun in Earth signs: reliable, responsible, down-to-earth, dependable

Sun in Air signs: friendly, desire to learn, witty, intellectual

Sun in Water signs: intuitive, nurturing, introverted, understanding

𝐀𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑅𝑎𝑚

March 21 - April 19

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞

Colours: Red

Planet: Mars (Motivation & Action)

Ruling House: 1st (self, beginnings, first impressions, attitude, identity) “All Your Firsts”

Traits: ambitious, independent, impatient, assertive, impulsive. Natural confidence and an energetic pull. However, they can be quick to anger. Natural leaders. ▪️ Always fight for their goals ▪️ Rules the head & leads with the head ▪️ One of the most active zodiac signs; not just physically but can be mentally as well

Day: Tuesday

Tarot Card: The Emperor

Gemstone: Diamond

Flower: Thistle & Honeysuckle

𝐓𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐬 | 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝐵𝑢𝑙𝑙

April 20 - May 20

𝐅𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡

Colours: Green & Pink

Planet: Venus (Desire & Relationships)

Ruling House: 2nd (money, work, income, values, routines)

Traits: practical, grounded, dependable, devoted, uncompromising. Those with a Taurus Sun means you have a love for luxury but are also heartfelt and soothing to be around. ▪️ Have a need to always be surrounded by love and beauty ▪️ One of the most reliable signs of the zodiac ▪️ Their committment is often misinterpreted as stubbornness

Day: Friday, Monday

Tarot Card: The Hierophant

Gemstone: Emerald

Flower: Rose, Poppy & Foxglove

𝐆𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 | 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑇𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑠

May 21 - June 20

𝐌𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐀𝐢𝐫

Colours: Light Green & Yellow

Planet: Mercury (Intellect & Communication)

Ruling House: 3rd (the mind, communication, social activity)

Traits: Characterized by the Twins, Castor and Pollux, who the constellation is based on, Gemini’s are stereotyped as having two different sides to themselves; twofaced. This isn’t true, anyone can be two faced. What has been misconstrued is that Gemini’s have the ability to see the multifaceted aspect of all things. They’re an air sign, meaning they’re highly intellectual, witty and forward thinking. They’re one of the most social signs. ▪️ Have a constant feeling that there isn’t enough time to experience everything ▪️ Open-mind makes them great writers, journalists and artists ▪️ Find romantic love through banter/communication rather than looks

Day: Wednesday

Tarot Card: The Lovers

Gemstone: Tiger’s Eye

Flower: Lavender, Lily of the Valley

𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 | 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝐶𝑟𝑎𝑏

June 21 - July 22

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

Colours: Violet & White

Planet: Moon (Emotion & Security)

Ruling House: 4th (home, self-care, family, emotions, nurturing, women, mother) “The Foundation”

Traits: incredibly nurturing, caring, reliable, alluring to others - draw them in, intuitive, loving and deeply emotional. Have a lot of sympathy for others and very family orientated. ▪️ Always the glue of a group ▪️ Have an intate need to be needed ▪️ Most likely have an odd sense of humour

Day: Monday, Thursday

Tarot Card: The Chariot

Gemstone: Ruby & Pearl

Flower: Orchid & White Rose

𝐋𝐞𝐨 | 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝐿𝑖𝑜𝑛

July 23 - August 22

𝐅𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞

Colours: Gold, Orange

Planet: Sun (Life & Identity)

Ruling House: 5th (romance, play, creativity, fertility, self-expression, drama)

Traits: As Leo is ruled by the Sun, those with a Leo Sun are quite stable, regal and lucky. Incredibly joyful, lively and outgoing. Main character energy. ▪️ Want to make the world a better place ▪️ Confident, or are at least amazing at pretending to be confident ▪️ Love the spotlight

Day: Sunday

Tarot Card: Strength

Gemstone: Carnelian

Flower: Sunflower

𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐨 | 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑀𝑎𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛

August 23 - September 22

𝐌𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡

Colours: Silver & Pale Yellow

Planet: Mercury (Intellect & Communication)

Ruling House: 6th (health, habits, pets, sense of usefulness, analytical nature)

Traits: One of the most hardest working signs of the zodiac, have an observant and meticulous nature. Adaptable, analytical, pragmatic. ▪️ Strong sense of duty toward others ▪️ Natural inclination to improve the world around them; people, places, things etc. ▪️ Typically show their love through Acts of Service

Day: Wednesday

Tarot Card: The Hermit

Gemstone: Peridot

Flower: Marigold

𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚 | 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑆𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑠

September 23 - October 22

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐢𝐫

Colours: Blue, Green, Pink

Planet: Venus (Desire & Relationships)

Ruling House: 7th (relationships, marriage, contracts, equality, sharing, business deals)

Traits: known for their elegance, good-taste and charm. Cooperative, diplomatic, gracious, fair-minded. The most aesthetic of the zodiacs. Natural peacemakers amd great secret-keepers. ▪️ Value harmony in all forms ▪️ Love people and social interactions. They’re fiercely attracted to intelligence. ▪️ Intolerance for chaos and mess

Day: Friday

Tarot Card: Justice

Gemstone: Sapphire

Flower: Rose

𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐢𝐨 | 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑆𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑝𝑖𝑜𝑛

October 23 - November 21

𝐅𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

Colours: Red, Black

Planet: Pluto (Power & Transformation), Mars (Motivation & Action)

Ruling House: 8th (birth, death, intimacy, transformation, property & loans of other people than yourself) “The Mysteries”

Traits: passionate and assertive, they have an air of mystery about them. Resourceful, powerful, brave, and independent. Perceptive, psychological, love seeing the dark side of humans. ▪️ Can be very secretive and keep their emotions to themselves ▪️ Known for being intense ▪️ Immense willpower

Day: Tuesday

Tarot Card: Death

Gemstone: Topaz, Opal

Flower: Hibiscus, Geraniums

𝐒𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 | 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝐴𝑟𝑐𝘩𝑒𝑟

November 22 - December 21

𝐌𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞

Colours: Light Blue & Navy Blue

Planet: Jupiter (Luck & Abundance)

Ruling House: 9th (religion, philosophy, expansion, higher mind, international and long-distance travel, publishing, broadcasting)

Traits: restless, friendly, adventurous and curious. They’re the natural travellers of the zodiac. Mainly outgoing, they are always ready for change. Clear about their intentions and have a strong moral compass. ▪️ Generally on the go and have an innate need to be doing something ▪️ Curious with a love to learn ▪️ Strong sense for escape

Day: Thursday

Tarot Card: Temperance

Gemstone: Topaz

Flower: Carnation

𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧 | 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑆𝑒𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑎𝑡

December 22 - January 19

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡

Colours: Brown, Black, Dark Blue

Planet: Saturn (Lessons & Limitations)

Ruling House: 10th (tradition, structures, public image, fame, goals, men, fathers, masculinity)

Traits: The responsible & upstanding citizens of the zodiac. Deal with problems through action. Disciplined, a lot of self-control, make great managers. Traditional, independent, self-motivators. ▪️ Big ambitions but have a lot of integrity ▪️ Hard-working and patient ▪️ Enjoy doing things the ‘old-fashioned way’

Day: Saturday

Tarot Card: The Devil

Gemstone: Garnet

Flower: Pansy

𝐀𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 | 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝑊𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟-𝐵𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑟

January 20 - Febuary 18

𝐅𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐢𝐫

Colours: Light Blue, Silver

Planet: Uranus (Change & Rebellion), Saturn (Lessons & Limitations)

Ruling House: 11th (humanitarianism, society, social justice, harmony, rebellion, originality, eccentricity, invention)

Traits: desire for equality, socially aware, unconventional, rather dislike tradition and the old way of thinking. Imaginative, idealistic and haters of limitations. Mature, eccentric and unique. ▪️ Don’t like labels ▪️ Believe in change and the progression of the world ▪️ The wise, old grandparent of the zodiac

Day: Saturday

Tarot Card: The Star

Gemstone: Amethyst

Flower: Orchid

𝐏𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐬 | 𝑇𝘩𝑒 𝐹𝑖𝑠𝘩

Febuary 19 - March 20

𝐌𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

Colours: Sea Green & Violet

Planet: Neptune (Hope & Fantasy)

Ruling House: 12th (spirituality, the ending of things, hidden agendas, imagination, poetry, the subconscious mind)

Traits: one of the most psychic and intune to the spiritual of the zodiac. Pisces are sensitive, creative and artistic. Great with advice, and have a “live and let live” approach to others. ▪️ Strong gut reactions ▪️ Get along well in small groups rather than large ones ▪️ May seem quiet (and meek) but actually have a huge sense of right and wrong

Day: Thursday

Tarot Card: The Moon

Gemstone: Aquamarine / Moonstone

Flower: Water Lily

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