#there are lots of naturally occurring yellows and reds

[chimerafeathers]

just kidding i got advice from a friend on how to do this

isa sif and bonnie had like one (1) potential color change each outside of the solid blacks & whites so i ignored them.

harder than expected to get color combos to look bad. why is that so easy to do when i'm trying to make things look Good.

spent a really long time thinking about what types of materials would end up being used for dyes and how they would be processed if No Color Vision and then somewhat partially gave up on that pursuit in favor of just trying really really hard to make the colors ugly together

maybe this is a net 0 info post and the gang is in less dire straits than theorized

WAIT WAIT WAIT

i keep thinking how odd it feels to see ISaT fanart in full color (it’s always great and i love seeing people’s interpretations of everything but still!) because the characters canonically seeing the world in black and white shades is so fascinating to me, how it would influence things in subtle ways that are and aren’t actually explored in canon

so it leads to the overthinking rabbit hole of “in the context of this colorful fanart, is this an au where colored sight returns/was never forgotten? or are the characters still seeing the world in monochrome and this is just what they would look like to us? what WOULD their world look like to us—WAIT.”

and that’s when i remembered the Addams Family set in color.

according to the theater production class i took a long time ago, sets for theater and productions like this had to carefully choose colors based on how the lighting would make them appear to the audience; the Addams Family set couldn’t be in more “appropriate” colors because it would show up muddled and indistinguishable, while the seemingly uncharacteristic bright pinks and yellows appear as clear and readable shades when filming in black-and-white.

all this to say i think it would be really funny if everyone in ISaT is actually wearing the most appalling and strange color combinations if viewed in color because the resulting monochrome shades look nice and have good contrast together

[silknspice]

GOOD FOR THE HEART

country! vi x reader fluff, angst, smut (18+), slow(?)burn, wc. 13.6k

synopsis: an intimate bond forms between an ill farmer's daughter, desperate for a taste of the outside world, and the helpful part-timing cowgirl at the farm. OR vi wants you bad, and what better way to get to know you than sneak you around town?

content warnings: illness, NOT read over, foul language, smut so mdni/18+, fingering r!receiving, controlling parent, health worries, fainting, slight insecurity, emotional rollercoaster but a fun one!!

soundtrack: my girl (the temptations) | our love (curtis harding + jazmine sullivan) | | we’ll never have sex (leith ross) | pillow (malcolm todd) | close to you (carpenters) | not a lot, just forever (adrianne lenker) | cool about it (boygenius) |  pancakes for dinner (lizzy mcalpine)(this sounds sm like vi to me) | kiss me (sixpence none the richer) | i bet on losing dogs (mitski)  aftercare (listen post-fic): force of nature (lizzy mcalpine)

Vi could strip naked right here, right now. 

And with her well known spontaneous personality, she would. Especially under the hundred degree heat that preys upon her and forces the girl’s freckled skin to glisten. But a: she’s with her siblings (enough said), and b: she’s working outdoors at the Laurier’s farm. Meaning only a handful of yards away, tucked in that blue, yellow, and white idyllic house covered with blooming botanical life, stands Mr. Laurier’s orphic daughter.

That’s all Violet’s ever heard about you, from children playing on the street to adults roaming the town shops. Ever since her adoptive father suggested she take this summer job before she goes back to focusing on her college work. Ever since her siblings and family friend jumped to tag along after Mr. Laurier decided ‘the more the merrier’. 

All that’s been filling Violet Lane's ears is information about you, or, the lack thereof. How you’re always locked up in that big residence. How you used to roam the town just like any other little rascal until five years ago, at the age of thirteen, when something out of her knowledge occurred. How stunning you look in a sundress. She tried to block that one out. 

“Why is it that Mylo’s drivin’ the tractor and not me?” Powder complains, pulling her clenched hand from the bag of chicken feed and tossing it on the ground for the horde to gobble. 

“Last time you tried to drive something I started praying.” Ekko throws out. His bun shaped hair bobbles as he finally pulls that one stubborn carrot from the ground and places it in the basket. 

“Besides Pow,” Violet starts, lifting a heavy brown box onto her shoulder and cradling it with just one arm. “You’re doin’ fine taking care of the animals. Mylo would be scaring them to death.” The pink haired girl sighed out, looking around.

Her gaze landed on the decorated porch, and she pursued. Vi set the last of the boxes down with a soft grunt before straightening her back and lifting her arms, clasped at the fingers, over her head to get a well-deserved stretch. 

The worker’s completely regretting her chosen position as the door swings open, and she looks heaven right in the eyes. 

You stand there in a white lace sundress covered in a juicy red pattern of cherries, a smile sweet enough to give a sugar high plastered on your stunning face. Vi’s gaze flickers down to your feet covered by red country boots. Above those are your soft looking hands holding a gift basket. When she’s done examining you, her blue-gray eyes trail their way back to yours– and it’s like whiplash. Once again, she’s blinded by those pearly whites and the tasty perfume radiating off of you. God help me, is the only phrase filling her mind because damn you’re ethereal. 

“Hi there, cowgirl.” You’re going to send Vi into cardiac arrest with just your voice. Thankfully, she realizes she needs to respond, and quickly wipes the dopey grin (that she wasn’t aware she had) off of her face. 

It’s not like everything is peaches and cream on your end. The girl’s tight white t-shirt is grasping onto her glistening biceps, her pretty bright eyes and the freckles that decorate her nose make her look blessed by the sun, and seeing such a beautiful yet handsome woman in a cowboy hat is doing foreign things to your stomach. ‘Wow’, is all your wandering mind formulates.

“Hi there, miss Laurier,” she copies you in her lower voice, and you notice the slit on her lip as it curls up into a soft smirk. You shake your head at her words with a polite smile, insisting she call you by your name, which you offer up. She repeats it once perfectly, claiming it ‘rolls right off the tongue’, and you crack a smile. 

“My father informed me that you’re the new help around here for the summer, so I decided to bake somethin’ for the five of you.” You’re sticking out the basket, decorated with a pink bow on top, for Vi to take. She does and quickly takes a peek inside. Five snickerdoodle cookies and one large cherry pie. You do stay on theme, and so, it starts.

“Thank you, cherry.” she cracks a smile that sends a shock down your body, and gently tips her hat.

Fourteen searing days pass on that farm, days filled with laughter, hard work, and the smell of life from the surrounding plants. 

But not for you. 

For each of those fourteen days, for the past one thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days, you’ve sat sideways in your window with your back against one side and your legs propped up on the wood. You read, journaled, book pressed flowers (that you had to sneak out front to get), took much needed resting breaks, tended to your pet lamb Daisy, and watched Footloose. Your sock-covered feet subtly shuffled side to side as if you were mimicking their dance moves in your head. 

Vi watched as you sat there all those days in your open window. Half of your body out in the fresh air and half cooped back up inside like the past five years of your life. It was as if you yearned to experience life completely outside the window, but you couldn’t. And so, you completed your daily activities the furthest away you could get. 

Until your eighteenth birthday came along. 

“Lord, can you focus instead of stalking your ‘cherry’,” Ekko mimics the pinkett’s voice with the last two words, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. 

“Bet she wants to pop her cherry.” Mylo snickers at his own joke, earning a slap to the nape from Claggor.

“Last warning Mylo. Don’t talk about her like that.” she replies firmly, furrowed brows making a little scowl. 

Claggor shakes his head softly, letting the tension between his siblings diffuse before speaking. “You know, you should do something other than just stare at her all day. It’s getting sad.” 

“Like?” the cowgirl responds with crossed arms.

“Ask her to hang out, obviously.” Powder pipes up, petting a sheep as she prepares to guide it inside the barn. “She’s always lookin’ so lonely. Swear the only time she smiled this past week was when you complimented her on those blackberry muffins she baked us.” 

“You know she’s not supposed to come out, Laurier said so. Pretty sure that’s why she stays upstairs, can’t even come out on the porch when we’re here no more.” Violet huffs.

“You think he thinks we’re a bad influence on her?” Ekko ask in confusion. Because truth be told, no one knew why you stayed locked up in that bright house, like a princess trapped in a tower. People knew better than to ask your father, and of course, they couldn’t get to you. Maybe it was time for someone to be your knight in shining armor.

“Doesn’t matter, he’s not even here right now.” Mylo insists. 

So, after a long back and forth conversation of weighing the possibilities, Violet’s shoved over to the shrubs in front of your second story window. You notice her when she’s there (you’ve been sneaking glances at her every so often), shifting your position so that you can look down on her as she calls out your name.

“Afternoon, cowgirl,” you coo, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. 

“Hey there, angel,” she simply replies with that signature smile, and your hands clench the frame you’re leaning on a bit tighter. “We’re done with the chores for today.”

“Oh. Well, get home safely.” you hum, eyes dropping in what Vi hopes is discontent, because her next words will cheer you right up. 

“Actually, we’re not headed home just yet. The five of us are headed out into the woods over there for a little.. chat." The glowing sunlight illuminates her face as she nods her head to Mylo, who’s allowing the brown paper bag to peek out of his backpack and into your vision. Alcohol. “Would you wanna come with us? Won’t take up too much of your time, I promise.” she asks with a cool voice but a pounding, fearful heart. 

No.

Or at least, that’s what you were supposed to say. It’s what you’d normally say. As much as your ill heart ached to connect with others, as much as you wanted to venture out of your home, as much as this strawberry-haired helper made you want to explore new things you’d only ever seen in movies, your answer always had to be no. 

But, unbeknownst to the others, today was your birthday. You had cautiously lived another year, and instead of feeling fulfilled, you only wonder how many you have left. 

You wanted to live, not survive.

You stared in contemplation before backing up, shutting the window and rushing out of the girl’s sight. 

Vi dropped her head down to the shrubs in front of her. It’s over. She blew it. 

“You scared her!” Ekko teased, making the girl whip her head around to show an angry stare. But the displeased expression faded faster than it formed when the creaking of that back door met her ears, and Powder gasped in joy and disbelief. 

“Lead the way.”

The walk along the trail of the woods to a more secluded area with cut wood stumps as seats was anything but quiet. Powder was talking your ear off about everything mechanic she worked on, treating you like you were from the middle ages rather than just sheltered. Claggor and Mylo were leading, causing the group numerous wrong turns and unplanned ‘shortcuts’ (they’d gotten lost along the way). Vi walked with Ekko on her left, quietly pumping her up and giving her the confidence she’d need to ‘make her move’. 

But despite the various noises, she couldn’t hear anything. Because strolling to her right was you, the girl she’s been infatuated with since first glance. She’s trying to be discreet, examining the way your hair falls, your scent, the way you press your lips together in thought before answering a question. It took the platinum blonde boy next to her elbowing her side before she came back to the real world. 

“I call first sip,” Powder squeaks, to which Violet scoffs, making a quip about how she’s only sixteen and scolding anyone who attempts to offer her the bottle. The bluenette brings up the fact that the others aren’t even the legal drinking age either, but it’s shut down because ‘an adult is an adult’.

“We’ll bring a juice box for you next time.” Mylo smirks, taking a long drag from the bag before offering it out to you. 

Despite the soft urge, you shake your head, because you know your limits. Your heart’s limits. Despite the fact that you’re ignoring the sweatiness of your palms and feeble limbs. 

Mylo hums. “Two juice boxes, then.” 

“Mylo–” Vi scolds, finally coming out of her trance. 

But her anger is cut short at the sound of a hearty chuckle coming from your mouth. And it’s the first time Vi’s ever heard you laugh. Genuinely laugh. It’s enough to bring stars to her already-bright eyes.

The conversation continues as the sun and clouds pass by. Eventually, the others are in a heated debate about the best character in some film you’ve never heard of, leaving you and Violet to shyly shift your attention towards each other.

“I’m glad you came. I noticed you.. don’t get out much?” Her tone is the gentlest it’s ever been. 

“I’m glad you invited me.” You easily avert her indirect question. It eats you alive, the want to tell her everything about you. How you have a “bad heart” as your father gently put it, and now you live your days mundanely so as to not risk triggering anything fatal. But the desire to live just one day in normalcy is stronger, and so you change topics. 

“You have very big muscles. I like them. Is that why you do most of the lifting things rather than herding cattle and such, like other cowgirls?” 

Vi feels her cheeks get toasty at the compliment and your almost-awkward forwardness. But you can’t help it, you’ve hardly had conversations with anyone but your father the past few years, let alone a handsome girl so close in age. It doesn’t matter much though, because Vi loves it.

“Not a real cowgirl. I’m only good for lifting what others can’t.” She chuckles a bit. “I just happen to own a horse— and I wear the hat of course… maybe the belt’s a little cowgirl-like too, but that’s all.” 

You smirk because that makes her a cowgirl in your book, but you politely hum and say nothing. 

The girl shifts her position to turn towards you more, and you swear your heart stops when one of her manspread knees leans against your crossed ones and makes no attempt to move. She examines your behavior, and when she sees the ghost of a smile on your lips, she leans on her opened legs slightly to get more comfortable.

“So what do y’ do in that big house all day, angel? Must get lonely.” 

These nicknames are doing terribly good things to you. 

You hum. She’s completely correct, but the last thing you want is for her to pity you. “Bake a lot, shop in the catalogs, watch movies, write in my books.” You shrug. “Oh,  and I take care of my Daisy girl.” A smile graces your perfect lips. 

“That your dog? Never seen her around,” she asked with questioning brows.

“No,” you giggle, sending Vi into heaven. So beautiful. “It’s my lamb.”

A beat passes before she responds, a glint in her eye. “So I should be calling you Bo Peep?” she jokes. 

You laugh, knocking your knees against hers in playful scolding. Simple words, simple touches, a simple gathering that may be day to day life for anyone else in the town. But for you, this was the best thing to happen in years. 

“Daisy’s a sweet name, matches her sweetheart of an owner.” she compliments you, and you graze your hand over your heart because you can’t decipher why it’s speeding up. “We sound real rugged compared to you. Our dog’s name is Rusty. Powder ch–” 

“Hey!” 

A deep, raspy voice calls out from behind you. A few of you whip your heads around to see the source of the noise, whereas others stand out of shock as the man comes into your sight. “What are y’all doing on my property? Get over here!” He’s moving quickly towards the group, and Ekko’s the first to move his feet.

“Time to go,” Vi says hastily, standing. Without thinking, she takes your hands and pulls you to a stand. “You a good runner?” 

No. I don’t know. I haven’t had anywhere to run in years.

That’s what you should’ve said, but as stated earlier, a life of normalcy for today. And so, you lie.

“Sure– yes, yes.” 

Vi nods at that, tightening her grasp on one of your hands as she rushes to exit along with the others. Your hands stay intertwined as the pair of you dash through the greenery, avoiding unfriendly hanging branches, jumping over logs, and ducking under leaves. 

You’re terrified. The same glistening sweat that forms in your clammy hands makes another appearance on your forehead. A prickle crawls its way up your throat, and suddenly you’re hacking into your elbow as the cowgirl guides you close to her body while you near the edge of the woods. Your little red problem pounds against your chest as if it’s begging you to stop, to give up before it does, but you can’t.

The man moves quickly, but he’s no match for adolescents of the countryside. By the time you reach the fields of your farm, he’s nowhere to be found. 

Powder’s hollering and cheers of victory sound broken, doubling and distilled, coupled with a soft ringing sound and pressure around your head that only grows the longer you stand. The only thing you can hear clearly is your quick panting. That deep red blood is draining from your head and blazing heat is left in its place. 

A blurry and distant Violet comes into your impaired vision, and you feel the soft sensation of her cupping your face with worried hands. “Cherry?” 

Your mind’s swirling with thousands of sensations, and your terrified breaths grow increasingly shallow until you can’t fight to stay awake any longer, falling into the arms of Vi. There’s yelling, someone scooping you up into their protective arms, orders being thrown around as you’re rushed towards the house, then silence. Complete and utter silence. 

The female lead is on your screen twirling and rolling her hips with glee for the third time this week, and you wonder if you'll get a chance to dance like that.

It’d been three days since you fainted after running from the farmer down the trail, three days since you’ve seen Violet (or any of the farm helpers), and three days since you’ve felt that inexplicable warmth in the pit of your stomach. 

While you rendered unconscious, Vi and the others scrambled to get your limp body inside. They laid you out on your bed, arguing about whether or not to call for help, because they had no clue what was wrong with you.

Of course, you woke up a couple minutes later as you always do. You were confused and terrified, but strictly instructed to rest by the friends who promised they’d stay until your father arrived. Fatigued even more than normal, you complied.

When your father arrived home an hour later, he stumbled upon Powder placing an ice pack on your sleeping head, Claggor and Mylo pacing the room in worry, Ekko attempting to research what exactly would have caused your current state, and Violet looking sick to her stomach as she cradled your soft hands in her rough ones; praying to whoever’s up there that you’d be fine. 

Needless to say, once they’d confessed to leaving for the woods and running back (leaving out every bit alcohol related), he’d been beyond furious, placing you on total lockdown for recovery and demanding the helpers avoid the farm for a couple of days. After you’d gotten your medication in you and recovered after a full day of rest, he chewed you out too. ‘You know I’m just trying to keep you safe.’

But you didn’t want safe anymore, you wanted life. 

And Violet walked right through your front door. Literally.

The pinkette runs a hand through her fluffy hair before securing the cowboy hat back on her head. Her eyes are searching the house for the kitchen when they land on you, and a wave of relief washes over her.

“Hi, angel.” 

Your heart speeds up, and this time, you don’t need to question it. 

“Hi Violet,” you coo shyly, standing from your comfy position on the couch and making your way over to her, hands clasped behind your back. 

She wastes no time cradling your face in her calloused fingers, the pair of your soft breaths filling the silence as the girl looks over you, finishing her personal assessment before swiping a thumb across your cheek in gentle comfort. 

“I was so worried about you,” the whisper fell from her lips without shame. 

“I’m fine, really.” you speak in the same tone, leaning into her sweet hand.

“No, you’re not.” That catches you off guard. “When your father saw what happened he panicked, said something about your heart and thought you were…” she let your mind fill the blank with a glint of pain in her blue-gray eyes. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?” 

Your eyes drop to the floor, and before you have time to think about it, you speak. “I’m sick. The bad kind of sick that doesn’t just go away after a couple days.” you can’t look her in the eyes as you speak, just placing a finger to your chest. “I have a ‘bad heart’, as my father puts it. Don’t have a lot of energy, can’t do much without getting too overwhelmed, dizzy spells and such..” 

You expect to see a crack in Vi’s sweet eyes, a sign of distaste, of regret for caring about a broken girl, but her gaze only softens and a tender hand moves a piece of hair from your face. 

“That why you’re cooped up in here?” she asks, even though she knows the answer. You nod. 

It’s silent for some time, and the two of you enjoy the other’s presence in such a milestone moment. 

“I have somethin’ for the five of you,” you finally speak, pulling from her affectionate grasp. She nods, wiping the worry she feels in the pit of her stomach away so that she can be there for you. You stroll into the kitchen with the cowgirl behind you, opening and rummaging around the fridge as she takes a needed seat at the marble island. 

She looks over your attire. A big bright red sweater hangs off your shoulders that covers your shorts, and a white bow in your hair that brings a smile back to her face.

You turn back around, setting down a tiffany blue cupcake platter and perfectly made white-frosted cupcakes with a purple design in the middle. You then pull out some tupperware, transferring cupcakes into it as Vi speaks. 

“They’re Violets,” she says in surprise and you giggle, only nodding your head. 

Marry me she thinks, before coming up with something more plausible to say. “Is this what you’re studying in college? You're gonna be a chef or somethin’ angel?” 

You pause before barely shaking your head. “Not goin’ to college this year.. my father says I need a gap year before ‘making any big decisions’,” you scoff, because the truth is he just can’t let you go. “Worries me though. He won’t go out and buy me any textbooks or anything, I’m gonna go stupid.” you whine.

Vi presses her lips together, clearly sharing your discontent with the situation. 

“Well, I know you’ll do great when you go. There’s already a strong brain in that pretty head of yours,” she grins. 

A smile forms against your will as you look up at the girl. 

“You think I’m pretty, Violet?’ 

She responds quickly, like the words spilled out of her heart rather than being formulated in her head. “I think you’re gorgeous. Whoever’s up there took their time making you.” 

Comfortable silence ensues as the room’s filled with pounding hearts and warm faces of passion. Finally, you finish packing up Vi’s cupcakes and place the box in front of her. She thanks you, looking to the side in thought before an idea flickers across her face. 

The girl rises, lifting the hat from her head and leaning over the marble to place it atop your surprised head. She doesn’t wait for your reaction as she picks up the cupcake box and a wooden crate from the ground (what she should’ve been doing in the first place). “Keep that safe for me until tomorrow, cherry.” 

“But isn’t tomorrow your day off?” you ask, flicking the front of the hat so it’s above your eyes.

“Yeah. I’m coming to see you tomorrow.”

The sun couldn’t set and rise fast enough. 

You waited in so much anticipation that you woke up an hour earlier, practically shoved your father out of the house with his breakfast, and spent any extra time at a mirror fixing an out of place hair or switching your outfit for the fifth time. 

You don’t know why you do– why you care so much. But before you can think too hard on it, the sound of someone pulling into your driveway blesses your ears and there’s six soft knocks at the front door. 

And so it starts with you and Vi seated on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. Your backs lean against the lower portion of the soft matter, and Vi pulls out a book. Four books, to be exact. One for each core subject.

You furrowed your brows in confusion, looking from the pile of literature to the fluffy haired girl. 

“I was thinkin’ I'd bring some textbooks to you since you can’t get ‘em yourself. I’m in my second year now so I won’t be needin’ these ones anymore.” She somehow speaks with both suave confidence and warm-faced fear in unison. “We could make it a thing, y’know. Preparing for classes together.” 

“Yes!” You speak with starstruck orbs. 

Violet laughed with relief, because if she had to be completely honest, that wasn’t the only reason she was here. She didn’t need this time to prepare, maybe a quick refresh before the year started, but she definitely didn’t need to be studying during summer. But if it gave her a chance to connect with you, she’d study until her brain burst. 

The helpers’ off days were Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. So that’s when Violet would pack her books, hop in her truck, and haul ass to your farm. Each session was the same. You’d start out in comfortable silence reading your separate texts and answering questions or jotting notes down, then Violet would make a stupid joke about a picture in the book or get sidetracked by your bookshelf of dvds in front of her, and minutes later the room would be filled with fits of laughter, fuzzy brains, and your books completely discarded. 

“‘Dirty dancing’? Damn cherry, your father know you watch this stuff?” Vi grins, sliding the movie case back into its spot along the brown wooden shelf. 

“It’s not that kinda movie, Violet. It’s like.. set in the sixties.” you huff, holding back a smile at her playful words. The pinkette takes her seat next to you on the couch, manspread legs and a cunning smirk just inches away from your face.

“And what exactly is ‘one of those movies’, doll?” she teases.

You scoff.

“I’m sheltered, not stupid.” you play, a soft hand coming up to push against the girl’s arm. 

Something flickers across the pinkette’s face before suddenly, she’s on top of you. 

You’re pushed onto your back against the plush couch as pure muscle weighs above you, powerful hands swirl at your waist before your laughter fills her ears and your hand shoots out to grab at one of her arms. The pair of you struggle for power, pushing back and forth, twisting bodies, and yelling out competitive quips. 

Finally, you smush the palm of your hand against Violet’s face, momentarily stunning her before the stronger girl grabs both of your wrists and pins them right above your head. 

Soft panting and awestruck eyes decorate the both of you. The air is tighter, every inch of your body is suddenly aware of your positions, and no words are exchanged as you savor the feeling of her touch. God you feel weak, but you don’t know whether to place the reasoning on Violet or your heart. 

Violet’s about to lose it, because with the way your sweet eyes are trailing up her body to her face, her heart is clear. 

She wants– no, craves you. Bad. 

It’s quiet for a moment longer before Vi clears her throat, reluctantly letting go of your wrists while moving back to stand. 

“We deserve a study break.” the cowgirl hums, crouching and examining the lower levels of the bookshelf. 

“We haven’t even been studying,” you throw back and fix your skirt while sitting up. Vi finds the record she’s been searching for, pulls it from its sleeve, and adjusts the player.

“Okay smart ass, we deserve a break.” she grins and the stylus hits the circular item. 

A soft, sensual song makes its way through the air. It’s older, a woman singing softly about her lover’s perfection, and you warm at the thought of a special someone fantasizing about you to the tune. 

Vi stands in the middle of the spacious room, and when you don’t move she waves her arm. “C’mere.”

You stand (a little quicker than you should’ve), and make your way over. She wastes no time, gently moving one of your hands to her shoulder and intertwining fingers with your other. As for your free hand, she tenderly places it on your waist, looking for any discomfort in your face. All she’s met with is big eyes of wonder and god, she’s screwed. 

“Just follow my lead.” she’s speaking sensually under the music, thumb rubbing at your waist. 

“Oh please, I could dance circles around you.” you quip.

“I’m sure you could, doll. But it’s a slow dance, so we work together.” Your bodies move closer as she speaks, making you smile and lose the sassy attitude for a moment. Just a moment.

Angelic vocals encase the two of you. There are only sounds of that and gentle side steps before you speak once more. 

“Did you know it was my birthday?” You stare straight into her eyes.

“Wait, what?” 

“The day we went to the woods. Is that why you asked me to come? Because it was my birthday?” you tilt your head.

She blinks twice before huffing a laugh. “No, I didn’t know. This mean I made you faint and get in trouble with your pops as a present?” 

You smile to yourself at the coincidence, holding her hand a bit tighter. 

“Have you danced with someone like this before?” she asks.

You shake your head before pausing. “Well, once with my mother, but I was very little.” 

Vi’s eyes soften a bit more. “Is she..?” 

You nod. “It happened when I was eleven. She had the same problem as me, that’s why he’s so protective.” Your voice is soft as you refer to your father. “I understand him, I really do, but I’m just so tired of being separate from the world.”

The girl can only nod, the hand around your waist snakes around to your back and pulls closer until your bodies are almost plush against each other. 

“Thank you for trusting me with that,” she whispers. And suddenly, there’s soft giggles. You’re laughing because the tough, suave cowgirl you know can be such a sap. 

Your laughter dies down and you shake your head before placing it between the crook of Vi’s neck, softening into your sappy cowgirl. “Talk to me about something good,” you hum.

“I’m takin’ you out on a date Friday.” 

Your eyes widen and you pull your head back to look her in the eyes.

She stammers and mentally groans because you’re the only one who could ever make Violet Lane stammer. “Well– if you say yes.” 

No.

That’s what you’re supposed to say, and what you should say. Not because of your father’s influence, not for your safety, but because you’re afraid. Afraid of the trouble you could get Vi into, of dealing with the unknown, but most importantly you were afraid of hurting her. 

While you aren’t bedridden, your life is fragile, and the thought of being a burden to Vi was heavy and present. How long could she stand you until she got tired of your neediness? How long until she’s tired of hearing about all the things you can’t do? She’s spontaneous, reckless, fun, and you thought she deserves to end up with someone just like that. Someone you’re not. 

But right now, you want her, and she needs you, so you give her what you can. 

“Of course,” you agree with a genuine, toothy smile, and the pinkette sighs of relief. 

The song finally comes to a stop. 

For the first time, you’re glad your father works all day long, because there’s no way you could sneak someone as loud as Powder around your house. 

Her squeals of embarrassment and your laughter echo from the kitchen throughout every room of your home. Your canvases and paints are neglected as you point an accusatory finger at a message on her screen. A message from ‘Ekko <3’. 

“I knew it! The way you talk to each other– ‘Oh Ekko! You’re just so smart,’” you mock her, making the girl’s face change colors faster than you’ve ever seen. 

“I do not say things like that!” She yells back, making you giggle harder. “And we aren’t dating.” 

“Why not?” you whine. You clasp your hands as if a plea is about to fall from your lips when a ding rings throughout the room. You look down and gasp. A message from ‘Lux <3’. 

You pause, eyes flickering to the girl. “Do you have everyone saved with a heart?”

She shakes her head. 

“Just those two?”

She nods. 

“Oh, this is just like the movies!” Your laughter repeats like a loop. The girl groans at you and moves her phone to the other end of the marble countertop. “I’m kidding– awhh, Powder!”

She shakes her head. “This conversation is all the way over.”

It takes a moment for your giggles to die down, and soon you’re nudging the bluenette’s shoulder with yours gently. “You’ll make the right decision, just don’t waste time overthinking it. Follow your heart.” 

She raises her eyebrows, picking up her paintbrush. “I could give you the same advice.” 

You scoff out a laugh, gaze landing on your taunting medications in the corner of a counter. “My heart is fighting itself. Wants two different things at once. Certainly can’t have both.” 

“Then follow your mental heart, not your physical one.” 

You pause, brows furrowing as you look at her with suspicious eyes. “Did Violet..” 

Powder shakes her head before you can finish. “No. She can keep a secret, especially for you. I connected the dots on my own,” she shrugs, swiping an electric blue line across the clean canvas. “Y’know, the meds, how protective your father is. Once, on one of your bad days, I looked through a window and saw you sitting down a third of the way up the stairs looking all dizzy and breathless. You fainting just tied it all together,” she hums. 

You burn holes into the ground with your utterly ashamed gaze.

“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, but you should live the life you want rather than being trapped in one you yearn to escape. And you can count on that big baby to protect you.” You let out a little laugh, nodding at the younger girl’s sweet words. 

“Oh yeah, she wanted me to give you this. Dummy forgot it yesterday.” 

Powder sets the brush down and rummages around her tote bag that lays on the counter, pulling out a tiny black velvet box and handing it to you before turning back to her self-proclaimed masterpiece. 

Your heart swells in the best way possible, and you flick open the little clasp to reveal a thick golden ring with two red dots and a green leaf in the middle. It’s accompanied by a small white note with bright red writing.

‘Happy birthday, cherry.’

“I knew they were together!”

You stare out of the windows of Vi’s truck into the town square. Your gaze is fixed on Miss Medarda and Mister Talis, who are sitting suspiciously close to each other on a bench near one of the decorative fountains. 

Vi fixes her dark brown hat as a laugh escapes her. “No way, he’s always chatting up this guy– one of the professors at U.P.” Vi refers to her college, and it takes you a second to understand. 

“His hand was on her thigh, Violet. That was pure romance.” 

Vi pauses, seemingly focused on the road ahead, but the lightbulb look behind her eyes that appears makes you think otherwise. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll see who’s right.” she jokes after remembering she hadn’t responded. 

Vibrant sunlight hits almost every inch of the truck and illuminates the town that passes by as the pinkette turns down a road surrounded by greenery. You spin the gifted ring on your finger once, then twice, out of nervousness. It’d been years since you left your house for anything but the doctor’s, let alone a date. A thousand and one possibilities whirled through your mind, but were quickly flushed out at the sound of Vi’s voice. 

“I see you got your gift,” she smiles, eyes flicking away from the road down to your ring and back. “I like how it looks on you.” 

She was skilled at putting up a flirtatious and unbothered front, because on the inside you had her absolutely melting. Out of all ten options, you chose to secure her gift on your left ring finger. 

You’ll be the death of her, no doubt. 

“It’s perfect,” you look over to her with hearts in your eyes. “Thanks, cowgirl.” 

She nods, eyes flickering back down before she takes her right hand off of the wheel and down to thumb the end of your shorts. “I like these too, real damn pretty.” 

You giggle, and somehow the swarm of butterflies in your gut doubles in size, because instead of returning to the wheel, the girl’s hand is delicately placed onto your inner thigh. Her calloused hands gently cup your skin, and she’s grateful you can’t read minds because she’s terrified of your potential reaction.

You can’t fight the smile that crawls its way onto your warm face. The only thought that runs through your mind is how this is even better than the movies.

“Well I hope I’m dressed well enough for whatever we’re doing today. Wish you woulda told me.” You finally reply, softening under her touch. You swear you hear her let out a little sigh of relief. 

“That’d ruin the surprise. I’ve gotta wow you.” she sends you a wink and your laughter fills the car with joy. 

It doesn’t take long until you’re pulling into the driveway of Violet’s house. It’s beautiful, all brown and white with flowers out front that Powder planted herself, high school graduation yard signs, and fresh open space. Still, a panicked look sets on your face. 

“Wait, wait, Vander’s gonna see me– he’ll tell my dad,” you stammer.

Vi cuts the engine, gently taking a hold of your chin to redirect your gaze as she speaks reassuringly. “Hey, hey. He’s not here you worrywart, won’t be home until late tonight.” Your eyes soften and you sigh. “Besides,” she starts, “we’re going over there.” 

Just past the house is a matching white and brown barn-esque building. Stables.

“She’s so big!” you yell with awestruck eyes as Vi pulls the red roan out of the stables by the lead. “What’s her name? When’d you get her? Wow I’ve never seen one of these up close, mama was afraid of ‘em and my father doesn’t ride.” You speak at rapid fire making Violet snicker. 

“Slow down,” she instructs, standing between you and the hairy beauty. The girl takes your hand, placing it on the horse’s shoulder, giving you the okay to pet. “Her name’s Gunner, she was my fifteenth birthday present, and I can’t imagine your pops getting anywhere near a horse.” You playfully hit her with your unoccupied hand. 

“Gunner,” you whisper, “badass.” 

Vi chuckles, because swearing sounds so foreign to you.

“You ready?” She asks, slipping her black riding helmet on your head.

“Wait, what?”

“You think I brought you here just to stare at her?” she smirks, completely mesmerized by your face while tightening the straps of the protective gear. “We’ll go slow this time, I promise. Okay?” 

The promise of this happening again makes your heart flutter, and all of the gears in your brain stop spinning before you respond, “Okay.”

She helps you onto Gunner, patting the small of your back before hopping up right behind you. Her warm arms snake around your waist and grab hold of the reins in her hands. Her muscular front is smushed against your back, her head placed inches to the right of yours. 

“Now, gently squeeze his middle with your calves,” she instructs.

You obey, and the red roan begins its walk. It’s slow, peaceful, but such a new experience to you that a sweet gasp of surprise falls from your lips. 

The two of you sit in silence, appreciating the comfort of each others’ presence and warm golden light shining upon you as the beauty of nature captures you. In the green pasture of Vi’s fields, you feel like you’re breathing for the first time in five long years. 

Gunner simply walks for a few minutes as you point out pretty flowers that you pass and Violet mentally compiles a bouquet for you. Vi’s talking about her years as a kid in this field. When she’d lost (and found) her favorite toy bunny out here, or dared Mylo to walk through the vast field at the dead of night. Suddenly you’re begging to see some baby photos. 

It’s at this moment that everything’s easy. Vi’s admiring everything about you with eyes of love when–

Gunner’s neigh sounds like a shriek of terror when three birds zip past, spooking the roan into a 180 and bolt away before Vi can make it out of her trance. 

You yelp from the sudden change in speed, almost slipping off of the animal, but Vi’s there to keep you securely fastened against her as she takes control of it. Just as fast as it changed, Gunner’s speed slows to a stop. You can feel just how tense Vi is as she speaks. 

“Shit. I’m so sorry, doll. She gets spooked so easily and– god, I’m sorry for scarin’ you.”

It’s silent for a moment. The scariest moment of the pink haired girl’s life, because she can’t see your twinkling grin that spreads from ear to ear before you laugh. 

“That was so cool!” you beam, leaning forward to pat at the horse. “Not so badass though, huh?”

After a few more apologies and you repeatedly telling Vi that it was fine, you two decided it was best to turn in for the day. 

You sigh, sitting against the short wooden fence. “I wanna rest for a minute, that okay?” ‘I need to take a rest, I don’t have any energy’ is what you actually mean, but you choose not to worry her. 

She wastes no time plopping down onto the grass next to you, eyes raising to the baby blue sky. She gives you a few moments of silence, sneaking glances at your face every so often, before speaking. 

“Powder and Claggor were talking about how awesome it’d be if we took you to a Seraphine concert. Think you’d like her music a lot.” she hums, smiling to herself. 

“And one day, I'm gonna take you line dancing so we can settle our little debate once and for all.” Her grinning face is inches away from you and her overpowering scent of amber and musk ensues. 

“Oh really?” Your voice is soft as your head turns, looking Violet up and down with half-lidded eyes. “I think..” 

You quickly mount Vi’s lap, pushing the girl onto her back and pinning those muscular arms right beside her head with both of your hands. You’re both all giggles and grunts, and even though there’s no way you’d stand a chance against her in a real tussle, she lets you win. 

You lay there, one atop the other in a field of colors. The tension is so thick that not even a knife could cut it, and your grip softens when tender hands reach up to cup your face, a thumb stroking your cheek. The sun, her hands, her sparkling blue eyes, and the love radiating between the two of you has you all but melting. You’re leaning down, inching closer each second, and just before Vi’s dreams come true, you stop. 

You pull back with newly glossy eyes, dismounting the girl while whispering apologies that get lodged in your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

You want nothing more than to connect your lips and hearts, but you were so afraid. How long until she resents you? How long until it’s over? You’d grown accustomed to heartaches, but never heartbreak.

But Violet craves you more than plants crave water, she needs you more than the Earth needs the sun. You just don’t know it. 

“Hey,” she whispers, sitting up and holding your chin as if routine. “Look at me, angel.” 

You comply with built up tears that threaten to stain your cheeks. 

“You don’t have to apologize for something like that,” she consoles, never looking away from your softened eyes. “We can go as slow or as fast as you want, okay?” 

You wipe your tears with the side of your hand, choking out your words. “I just– I don’t want to disappoint you.” I don’t want you to hate me once I’m gone. 

“Disappoint me?” She stiffles out a laugh. “You don’t know how bad I want you. But I’ll wait until the end of time if you ask me to, hell, I’d lasso the moon and bring it down if you wanted.”

That makes you sniffle and let out a breathy laugh, bringing Violet some relief. The girl slowly inches forward to make sure you’re completely okay with it before placing a warmhearted kiss to your forehead. It’s quick and simple, but causes an eruption of butterflies in your gut. Soon, your troubles are forgotten. 

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” 

“What’d I say about keeping this door open?” Vi raises a brow, leaning against the doorframe as she stares at an unbothered Powder who’s doing her mascara, and a flustered Ekko. 

“Must’ve been the wind.” Powder mutters.

“She wouldn’t listen!” He raises his hands in innocence from his position on a neon pink beanbag.

It’s silent before the three burst out in laughter, and Vi’s shaking her head as they catch their breath. 

“Hurry up though, we’re gonna be late to Laurier’s.” 

“Not today, Vi.” Vander’s voice bellows from behind her, making her turn her head with furrowed brows. “He gave the five of you a day off.” 

A smile graces Ekko’s lips and Powder is whooping in the back, but Vi’s lips drop into a subtle frown. 

“Awhh,” Powder coos, “poor Vi doesn’t get to see her girlfriend today, how ever will she live?” 

The teens snicker, but the pinkette notices the uneasy look on his face, the one where he has something to say but just can’t spit it out. “What?” 

The burly man runs a hand across his beard with a sigh. 

“His daughter.” The entire room pauses. “She's terribly ill today, bedridden. He’s staying home to watch over her so there’s no need for far–”

Vander doesn’t get to finish his explanation, because Vi’s pulling the keys from her pocket and rushing past him towards the front door. 

It takes almost running three red lights and a long, torturous talk with your father about being able to speak to you just for an hour, but at your bedroom door stands Vi, taking off her hat to look at you with big worried eyes. “Cherry,” she calls out. 

You feel absolutely horrendous. 

Your breaths are shallow, your ankles feel swollen beyond belief (you thanked god Violet couldn’t see them from under the blanket), and your eyelids weighed a thousand pounds, threatening to drop from fatigue. 

“What’s going on? What can I do?” she asks, wasting no time walking over to your pretty bed and taking a seat right next to you. 

You shake your pillow-elevated head, laying on your side to face her with a soft smile. “Can’t do anything, it’s just a bad day.” You reach a hand out to grab her calloused one and intertwine your fingers. “Just glad you’re here.”

“How’d you get past my father?” you whisper, relaxing into the soft matter.

Vi huffs out a laugh, readjusting to lay down as she speaks. “Convinced him that I’m extremely knowledgeable in this area because I’m studying to be in the medical field. So he thought it’d be fine if I watched over you while he feeds the cattle.” 

You giggle with a teasing look. “Oh yeah, what have you learned?” 

“Cherries are good for the heart,” she says all ‘matter of fact’ like. “They have potassium and antioxidants to reduce inflammation.” 

“I should be the one calling you cherry, then.” You hum. You don’t know how much it means to Vi to hear that she’s ‘good for you’.

It’s quiet again, and you spend time shamelessly looking over every inch of the girl’s face, landing on her powder-blue orbs. “You know, your children would have some beautiful eyes.” 

“And yours would be beautiful all around,” there’s not a trace of doubt in her voice. “What would you name them?” She asks and throws out silly names as you look around in thought, “Batman? Lice? Maddie?” 

“How is Maddie as bad as those names?” 

“I just don’t like it!”

Your giggles fill the room before you shake your intertwined hand. “Maybe either.. Josie or Clementine? They sound.. warm. Safe.” 

Vi nods, pulling you closer into her chest and draping an arm over you that cradles your back, “Josie it is.”

Your ears burn as you nuzzle into her. “And we’ll live in a big pretty house in the city, surrounded by noise and culture and life.” You wished so badly. 

“We?” Vi asks.

“Me, Josie… and you.” You look up at her with the last of your body’s strength. “If you’ll join us.” 

That spark in Violet’s stomach has grown to a full fire heating her body. Her dream girl’s lying in her arms, talking her ears off about their hypothetical future together, all while looking up at her with pupils blown wide as if she’s your knight in shining armor.

“Of course,” she agrees, “but we’ll have to bring Rusty and Gunner along.” 

You snicker with a nod. “Sounds perfect.” 

There’s a glint in the girl’s eyes as she trails her hand up your back to the soft skin of your face. “A pretty house, an adorable daughter, my rascal animals,” you let out a weak laugh, “and my pretty girl to share it all with.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Yours?” you tease.

“Yeah, mine.” 

She’s tracing meaningless patterns on your neck with one hand while tucking a piece of hair behind your ear with the other. And god, whatever this feeling is it’s too good, too sweet, too sensual. Your waiting lips are slightly agape in awe, and it doesn’t take long before Vi whispers, “Can I?” 

This time, ‘yes’ is the only word that pops into your brain and slips from your mouth as Vi’s lips crash into yours. 

Her lips are melting into yours with so much intensity that it’s hard to keep up. You let her take the lead while your scents, minds, and tongues mix together in a bundle of passion. Her grip around you never loosens. Fingers thread through your hair, and her slightly chapped lips dread leaving yours, because your kisses are the air she needs to breathe. 

A whine falls from you when she reluctantly pulls away from your sweet mouth, placing four chaste kisses on your cheeks, nose, and forehead. 

“You need to rest,” she coos, peppering your forehead with another (much needed) kiss, and keeping the close proximity as her arms wrap around you. There’s no argument, because the adrenaline rush from her kiss is wearing off and that wave of exhaustion snakes its way back. 

There you lay, bodies intertwined and souls tying as the sound of Vi’s healthy heartbeat lulls you to sleep. 

Once you’re out, you stay sound asleep as Vi hesitantly leaves your bed.

You stay sound asleep as she trots downstairs where your father places weights of guilt upon her, claiming he knows you two have been sneaking around, and it’s her fault you’re in this current state. 

You stay sound asleep as he demands she doesn’t return to the farm, permanently. 

With every inch of your worn down heart, you hate Violet Lane. 

And while deep down you know that’s not the slightest bit true, you still act like it. 

When you woke up the next day, the birds singing and a beaming face as you skipped downstairs to hug your father good morning, the last thing you expected was to hear the all too confusing news that Vi had quit. Along with the rest of her siblings and friend just an hour after. 

Unfortunately, you were none the wiser, and slowly sulked up the stairs and sank into your bed where you cried yourself back to sleep. 

For the first couple days, it didn’t make sense. The way she looked at you with those big puppy dog eyes, her tender care, the ways she spoke to and about you, it all seemed so real. It had to be real. 

On day three, you decided that acting was just one of her many skills. 

By day four, you had it figured out, or so you thought. Vi was a flirtatious asshole who wanted nothing more than some street credit for kissing the untouchable, locked up, sick princess right under her overbearing father’s nose. Coming to and believing such a conclusion felt like a stab in the side, and the knife only twisted when you factored in the fact that the others must’ve known about this, which is why they left alongside her. 

You thought you’d become accustomed to all of the heart pains in the world, but you were wrong.

Tears fell from your eyes like a waterfall until they grew dry, your baking pans yearned to be used but were shoved away into a cabinet, and what hurt the most was knowing your father was right for keeping you locked up all these years. You weren’t free, but you were safe. 

Finally, on day five, you’re engulfed by the plush matter of your couch when there’s six knocks at the door and someone’s calling out for you: “Cherry?” 

You scoff at her audacity. 

When you storm over and yank open the door with the meanest glare Vi’s ever seen from the prettiest girl she knows, you’re met with Ekko leaning against your white picket fence with his arms crossed, Powder standing next to him with a worried face, Claggor and Mylo relaxed against Vi’s bright red truck, and said truck-driver right in front of you looking absolutely sick. 

And you slam the door right in her backstabbing face.

“Seriously?” Vi huffs out, earning a stifled laugh and whistle from Mylo.

“Go away, Violet.” You yell through the door, voice the sternest she’s ever heard.

“Fuck no. What’s going on?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” you counter, back pressed against your barrier. “You got all that you wanted from me, and then you quit and disappear from my life. So why are you back, huh?” 

You’re lucky you’re packed with pent up anger, because tears are bubbling in the corners of your eyes and yelling is the only thing keeping them from spilling over.

“What?” the pinkette's completely taken aback, because she has no clue what you’re on about. 

“That’s not–” she sighs, lowering her voice before speaking. “I’ll never get enough of you. I’d take a thousand kisses and so, so much more if you’d let me, but that’s not why I see you, angel.”

Your eyes soften and hurt brows furrow because damn, she’s a good actress. 

“And I didn’t quit. That afternoon when you fell asleep, your old man practically dragged me out of your house and fired me. Said I caused your symptoms to worsen. I thought I’d lay low for a few days– and believe me when I say these were the hardest days of my life, but I didn’t want to get you in any trouble.” 

Your bottom lip is bitten red until you finally cave, creeping the door open just enough to show your face.

“You promise?” you ask, and Violet’s heart is aching. 

“Cross my heart.” she replies.

That’s all it takes for you to swing the door open and jump into her arms. She stumbles back in surprise before applying the same force, arms wrapping around your waist as she melts into yours cradling her neck. 

You’re sniffling, taking deep breaths before you speak. “Really thought you left me,” you croak out. 

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” she teases, placing a tender kiss on your forehead as you giggle and blink away tears. 

“Now go get changed, we’re going out,” a grin tugs at the corner of her lips when your happy eyes make contact with hers. You blink, an idea flashing across your face, before pulling her inside by the wrist, yelling “just a minute!” to the others, before hastily shutting the door. 

Violet’s eyes graze over every last atom of your body as your hips sway in front of her, babbling with Powder about who knows what, because she hasn’t been focused since you dragged her into your bedroom ‘innocently’ needing help with your outfit. 

She stood in your doorway curiously, thinking she’d only be there for a second, maybe you’d never been to a rodeo and needed advice. 

That was, until you paused at your walk in closet, a cheeky smirk on your lips that Vi desperately wanted to taste as you nod your head towards the bed. “Sit.” 

And she obeyed, manspread legs at the edge of your bed as you walk infront of her with a few items on white hangers. All frills, lace, denim skirts and shorts, and Vi’s reasonably concluded she died and went to heaven. 

“I could wear..” you shift the hangers around, “this with this skirt, or maybe these shorts and.. ooh, these boots match my panties.” You get a rise out of seeing the usually suave girl short circuit at the words that bless her ears. Definitely in heaven. 

But Vi came to the realization that she was, in fact, alive. Because her heart truly stopped beating when she helped you settle on your pieces, threw her a sugary sweet “thanks, Vi,” did a casual 180, and stuck your ass out to drag your skirt down painfully slow. 

Oh, those boots do match your panties. 

Now here you stand in a lacy red top, denim shorts that have her thanking god for your creation, and matching cherry red cowgirl boots that graced her eyes the first day you met. 

Neverending chatter fills your ears from other attendees, the overwhelming scent of kettle popcorn from a nearby booth stuffs your nostrils, and you see Ekko nudge at Vi, saying something that you can’t hear over the bluenette beside you talking your ear off about the stunning horses she sees. 

Suddenly, Vi’s walking up to you and smushing her hat onto your head with her famous smirk. “Keep it safe for me, doll?”

You nod mindlessly, a hand coming up to fix its position on your head. 

“Where ya goin’?” Powder calls out to the platinum blonde boy who’s ushering Vi to hurry up.

“Our annual face off,” he throws her a wink, and the girl’s rolling her eyes with a playful scoff. 

Before you can even ask, she’s locking arms with you and dragging you along to an even more crowded area. There’s various groups of people surrounding a blocked off area containing a big, black, circular inflatable mat. And directly in the middle is a mischievous brown mechanical bull. 

“Are they..” and your question is deemed useless when Ekko mounts the hairy machine, pumping his hands up in motion for the crowd to whoop and holler. Of course, they do. 

Ekko does good, to say the least.

One hand grips the bull while the other is thrown up into the air as the machine thrashes him and his white locs every which way. The intensity increases as it tauntingly speeds up, thrashing harder, and spinning recklessly. Finally, he’s bucked off, rolling to a stand and flashing his pearly whites as the crowd cheers.

A giggle falls from your mouth as your hip nudges Powder who’s in complete awe, and she warms in embarrassment. 

Vi and Ekko fake tension, sending joking competitive glares as they switch places. Now it’s the pink haired cowgirl that’s mounting the mechanical animal. 

You never thought you’d be admiring this sort of thing, but Violet’s never fails to twist your stomach in knots.

With a hand gripping the bull and the other resting on the back of her head, she bucks her hips back and forth to counter the thrashing machine. She’s focused, her sculpted muscles flexing as she holds on tight, but a cocky smile is plastered on her face with teeth biting down on her rosy lips. 

Surrounding girls (including yourself) are wooing at the sight. 

Vi makes it through the most chaotic shakes and spins as the bull finally comes to a controlled stop, and you’re cheering louder than you ever thought you could. 

“Woo! Hell yeah!” you cry out. The girl’s cheesing harder than ever when she hears your support, and the smile lasts all the way over to a fake booing Ekko who rolls his eyes and slips her a twenty dollar bill from his pocket. 

You and Powder unlock arms to move over to the riders. A chuckle of amusement spills from you, and you’re securing Violet’s hat back over her fluffy hair. “That was real impressive, cowgirl.” 

“Yeah?” she coos. 

“Yeah.” The atmosphere grows heavier, each of your eyes searching the other’s like there’s treasure to find. But your little staring contest as Claggor speaks. 

“Earth to lovebirds,” he hums politely. “You coming?” 

You’re quick to nod, but Vi gently holds your wrist, making you pause. “Actually, I wanted to show cherry around some more. Catch up later?” She asks, but she’s already pulling you away before Claggor nods in agreement and the group goes in the opposite direction as you. 

You speed up, feet coming into step with the girl who’s needily pulling you. Her silent prayers are answered when she spots a more secluded area behind a building and some fences. 

“Vi,” you snicker, cheeks warming in nervousness, “what are we doing?” 

She hums through half lidded orbs, hands finding their place on your hips and hastily pushing you against the wall that covers the two of you from the eyes of others. You’re looking up at her with the sweetest glint in your eyes and it’s driving her absolutely mad. 

“You said I was real impressive, right?” Her voice is smoother, breathier. 

Ohh.

You tilt your head, teeth chewing on your abused bottom lip before you mutter. “That’s right.. think you deserve a reward, huh?” 

“Exactly what I was thinkin’, sweetheart.” 

The newfound nickname is sending a shiver up your spine that transforms into a blazing warmth when Vi’s lips fit into yours like puzzle pieces. This time, messy limbs are thrown over each other. Your hand travels from her hands that are cradling your heated face, down to her abs (making her shiver as you scrape your nails across), to tangle in what pink locks aren’t captured by her hat. 

A strong hand makes its way around your waist, pulling you dangerously closer to rub against her body. God, she’s good at this.

“Vi..” you’re finally able to whisper as she trails kisses along your jaw and down to your neck. You can feel her smirk against the area where she peppers you with affection. 

And it’s perfect.

Not just the way she’s kissing you, or the fact that you’re kissing at all. It’s the environment, the feelings, the friendships that you’ve made with the others, the fact that for today, you’re living a normal life. It’s the fact that for a moment, you can cheer on your friends in a competition, you can lock arms with a friend and woo over others, you can get lost in passionate kisses with a girl and not have another care in the world. 

You wished it could stay this way forever. 

You lose all sense of shame, letting a soft grunt slip from your lips at the feeling of teeth and a ‘pop’ on your neck. It’s only a matter of seconds before both of your eyes widen and Vi’s pulling back with a crooked smile on her face. 

“Did you..” 

She wordlessly eyes the red-purple love bite forming on the back-side of your neck, just below your ear. 

“Violet!” you drag out with a whine, sending her into a soft fit of laughter. She feels guilty, but you’re just too cute. 

You have a love-hate relationship with the neon lights that are beaming throughout the spacious room that brings more noise than you’ve heard in the past five years– maybe more than your entire life. 

On one hand, the flashing colors are starting to give you a major headache. On the other, the red glow that decorates Violet’s face as she grins down at you has your insides doing summersaults. 

Nevermind. You love the lights. 

“C’mon y’all,” Powder calls out with a chipper expression. Ekko’s standing properly in line and his blue haired companion, who’s already freestyling, spins out of control and squeals up a storm. 

“You ready?” Vi’s words kiss your ear as she holds both of your hands, pulling you out to the dance floor. 

“Are you?” 

Your sass has her laughing, and she brings her tongue out to wet her bottom lip. “Follow my lead, cherry.” 

And for a few moments, you do. All of the surrounding crowd dances the same to the upbeat, fast-paced country song that pierces your ears, so you replicate Vi’s mixed steps and cute little head tilts with her hand on that chocolate hat. 

But then the song changes, it’s more passion filled and fiery. All it takes is Powder spinning out of line and shamelessly making her own moves before you’re formulating the steps in your head. From movies you watched religiously to mindlessly shuffling your own feet late at night, you danced for the little girl who longed to have fun, who longed to be free. 

You’re clicking the heels of your boots against the ground, moving your hips as fluid as water, and bringing your hands up just for them to slide down your sides with a heart-stopping smile tugging at your lips. 

Violet’s in awe, because her girl’s fearless and full of smiles, and she couldn’t be happier for you. 

And there’s no doubt in her mind that this is the only girl she’ll ever want, need, crave. 

She whistles, looking up and down with the most amused expression you’ve ever encountered. “Jesus, alright you win, doll.”

“Yeah?” The tease comes out a bit breathless, but you play it off as dancing too wildly.

You look at the pink haired beauty through thick lashes. Inching dangerously closer as you sway, Violet’s hands have a powerful hold on your soft waist. You stumble over your feet once, then twice, and she notices. 

“Slow down there cowgirl,” she chuckles, but her gaze is tender under the carefree mask. “You alright?”

It’s unbearably toasty in the room, and you feel two times hotter with each passing second. But you don’t want it to end, so you wave her off, throwing out an “I’m good!”

But you’re not, and it’s evident on your face when the small ‘headache’ turns to tight pressure smothering your scalp, and you’re losing your balance as you search for an exit. 

“I just need some air,” you mumble, turning your head. The room shifted under your feet, vision blurring in a haze. You took three measly steps forward, and on your fourth, you crumbled.

Your body gives out under you, and Vi’s right there to catch you when it does. Her arms snake around your waist to hold you up before she lifts you in her arms with big eyes and wavering lips. 

“Shit. Ekko, come here! Powder, go get Mylo and Claggor.” 

The five haul ass to Vi’s truck, the pinkette tossing her keys to Ekko as he and Mylo hop in the front. She, Claggor, and Powder take seats in the bed of the truck. When you finally come to, your back is laid against Vi’s worrisome chest, and you get the fresh air you were looking for from the speed Ekko’s driving to get you home. 

But when you pull into the driveway of your home, there’s already a car waiting for you, and there stands your father with his arms crossed and pure fury in his eyes. 

And you’re in so much fucking trouble. 

The others attempt to plead your case, in good ways and in bad, as the man scolds everyone in sight.

“Mister, we just went out to dance.” 

“She’s not a child you know, you can’t keep her cooped up here forever.”

“Please just understand.” 

Everything goes in one ear and out the other, because in the chaos silently sits you and Violet. You’re still breathless, and this headache is gonna last longer than you want it to, but you relax into the warmth of Vi for one last time. 

You pull back, ignoring the spike of pain that flashes across your brain, and turn to the girl with a tight lipped smile. “I’m sorry, you guys should just go.” 

She looks pained, like she wants to say something, she wants to help. But she nods, placing a chaste kiss to your temple just as you’re sliding out of the truck bed and over to your father. He hastily drags you inside while you bid farewell to your moping knights.

With every inch of your worn down heart, you love Violet Lane. 

And you’re not an idiot, you’re sure she loves you too. 

That’s what makes coming to a conclusion impossible on almost every level. 

Your physical heart says this is the most idiotic decision you’ve made in your entire life. You’ve had worse symptoms than normal, you’re putting yourself in danger in the name of ‘fun’, and the thought that’s lingering in the back of everyone’s mind is one you can’t ignore: just how long will you make it? 

Your mental heart says this is the best thing you’ve ever done. You’re happy, you’re in love, you have real friends, and you’re finally starting to see the point in living. Not just from a tv screen or the books your father supplies, but through your own eyes and experiences. And even though your father seemed overbearing, you know he’s afraid. He’s taken on all of the worry and stress so that you don’t have to. If you wanted something to change, you had to take the leap yourself. But you’re not sure you can.

There’s six knocks at the door, and you stay seated in your position on the couch. “It’s open,” you call out.

The clack of familiar boots enter the room, and a wave of musk and amber suffocate you when Vi walks past you to sit at your side. 

It’s silent. Not your comfortable, daydream filled state of silence that Vi could watch you in forever. It’s awkward, strangulating silence, and she can’t take it.

“Yesterday was..”

“...amazing.” “A mistake.” 

You speak at the same time, eyes flickering at each other's response. 

“What are you talking about?” Vi asks, setting her textbooks down. You don’t miss the newfound waver in the back of her voice. 

You don’t respond. You don’t want to go through with this conversation.

“..Is this about the hickey?” she flashes a strained smile, “I’m sorry if he saw it, doll. Reall–”

“This isn’t a joke, Violet.” you finally speak, eyes strictly trained down on your fiddling hands in your lap. The tears are bubbling at your eyelids and that itchy, sore feeling is crawling its way up your throat. 

“Then what is it about? You and your dad? Look, I can talk to him, I’ll make things right.” Her voice is increasingly wavered, desperate, scared. 

“Our–” you inhale a shaky breath, “– this, us, whatever we are is an inconvenience. An inconvenience to my father, an inconvenience to my health, an inconvenience to you.” Your voice breaks with the last word. “I’m a burden Violet, face it.”

You can’t see it with the tears blurring your vision, but Vi’s shaking her head in horror. “No. No, what are you going on about? You aren–” 

“God just face it, Vi. All you wanted was to love a girl and you got a defective one.” You spit the words out like they sting on your tongue. “Soon, you’ll be annoyed by everything I can’t do and bored of everything I can.” 

“Maybe we’re just not…” you can’t continue as silent tears transform into quiet little sobs. 

Vi’s heart aches as she kneels down on the floor in front of you, examining your now puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. She wants nothing more than to kiss the pain away, but first she has to fix that worrisome little mind of yours.

One hand intertwines with your anxious ones, and the other reaches up as rough fingers delicately hold your chin, a soft thumb rubs back and forth against your cheek. She whispers out your name with a voice that’s holding back sadness of her own. When you’re finally ready to look at her, she smiles delicately.

“You don’t know how bad I want you. But I’ll wait until the end of time if you ask me to. I’d lasso the moon and bring it down for you if you asked.” You recognize her sweet words from your first date, and you’re weakly melting into the palm of her hand that’s sliding to cup your face. 

“I meant it then, and I mean it now,” she whispers. “I will never be annoyed by what you can or can’t do– god, I'd sit here and talk to you about slugs all day everyday if that’s what you really wanted.” That has you scoffing, fighting back a smile at her silly words. 

“Love isn’t about the activities you can or can’t do, it’s about a connection, our connection, and what we do with it. So, you can get rid of me if this is all true and that’s what you really want, but I will never stop loving you.” She’s speaking so sweetly, and before she even finishes her sentence you’ve made up your mind. 

“You’re good for my heart, cherry.” 

Those are the last words she can get out before you’re throwing yourself forward and locking lips with the love of your life. 

It starts off slow, soft, an apology for the rollercoaster of emotions and blunder of nonsense you put yourselves through. Then, Vi’s hands are cupping your face and the back of your head while yours are thrown around her neck. It’s needier, sloppier, and her tongue slipping into your mouth shows it’s moved from an apology to ‘let me make you feel better’.

You hum into the kisses with pleasure, but you wanted more. Needed more. Without hesitation, you slip a hand under Vi’s tight t-shirt, running a hand up and down her abs.

The action sends a shiver down her spine, and you gasp in surprise when the sculpted girl wraps your legs around her waist and lifts you into her arms. 

You’re giggling as she walks up the stairs and into your bedroom. Your litter smooches down her jaw and to that neglected neck, mimicking what she’s done for you. Vi slips a hand under the back of your shirt, making you hum into her neck at the warmth. 

Pop.

A devilish grin graces your angelic face when you pull back, eyes flickering from Violet’s to the bruise on her neck. 

The girl grins, catching your mouth in a wet kiss. “You’re asking for more, y’know,” she warns, and her lustful eyes are turning your brain to mush.  

“Good. I want more. Need you all over me,” 

Your confident words are canceled out by a sweet gasp that leaves you when Vi bucks her hips. 

“You’ve gotta say it then,” she orders.

“Say.. what?” 

She chuckles. “Tell me what you want, baby.” 

You swear there’s a pool of slick in your underwear. 

“Want you to fuck me till I cum, please please please,” you beg, hiding in the crook of her neck.

“Fuck,” is all she can choke out, because she’s never wanted wanted a girl this fucking much. Your begging is all she needs to hear before she’s stripping you out of your top, unclasping your pretty bra with one hand, and flipping you over onto your back. 

You’re throwing your head back with a soft moan, running a hand through her pink strands while Vi latches onto one of your rock hard nipples. Her hand trails down your abdomen and to your pretty little skirt. The fabric slides down your legs and off your delicate ankles, and the girl’s gawking at your panties. 

“Vi, please please,” you moan in impatience. 

She lets out a cruel chuckle, fingertips pulling down the fabric that’s completely drenched by your arousal. 

Holy fuck. 

She’s moving faster now, pulling her shirt over her head, and you don’t have a chance to drool over her bare muscles as she sits against the headboard of the bed and pulls you back by your hips into her lap. 

Your back’s pressed against her chest, and she pulls your legs apart making cool air attacking your lips. One arm hooks under your knee and holds tight, making sure you stay perfectly spread for her. 

“Suck,” she whispers, and two of her calloused fingers are shoved in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the nubs, letting drool pool around them as Vi looks down at you like she wants to ravish you. 

“Wanted to touch you like this for so long.”

Her fingers are dragging out of your mouth and down to your sensitive slit to your swollen clit. You’re already messily bucking your hips against her as she pushes soft circles against your bundle of nerves. 

She relishes in the way your eyes roll back before she decides she’s done being a tease, sinking her wet fingers into you three full knuckles deep. 

“Violet– holy fuck yesyesyes,” you whine, quickly closing your legs at the newfound pleasure. But Vi’s pulling them right back apart as she pumps into you faster.

She peppers kisses on your temple, whispering sweet nothings about how you’re ‘so damn pretty’ and she’s been dying to see your ‘fucked out face’. 

“Yeah, oh fuuck.” you squirm under her control, a knot of passion and pleasure building in your gut. 

“Yeah? Yeah, baby?” She speaks breathily. The way she’s mocking you and the depth her fingers are reaching is sending you right over the edge. Your toes curl while writhing pleasure shoots through your body, and all you can see is stars. 

“Fuck fuck, I’m– hah,” 

Vi’s shushing you softly, keeping her speed and strength as your cunt tightens around her fingers. 

Your moans are like angels blessing your ears as you cum, gushing on her skilled fingers. 

The only noises in the room are your exhausted pants, the slick of your cunt as Vi pulls her fingers out terribly slow, and the bed shifting under the absence and reappearance of pure muscle. 

Except this time, the pinkette’s knelt in front of the bed. 

She pulls you to the edge by the soft skin of your thighs, and piercing blue eyes joined by a warm pink tongue threaten to have you wheel-chair bound by morning. 

“Let me clean you up, angel.” 

Despite being near nothing but muscle, Vi’s bare body is incredibly comfortable. 

“And he made a giant splotch of paint on the wall with his ass.” 

You gasp, choking out a little giggle of shock as Vi tells you stories of her childhood, specifically all the stupid situations they got themselves into. The just-right bath water is engulfing your intertwined bodies. Vi’s fingers are threading through your hair as your head rests on her shoulder. Your body sits in between her legs, and your arms lazily drape around her waist. 

“How mad was Vander?” you ask.

“He just… laughed. I’ve never really seen him mad, just disappointed at times.” She shrugs. “He knows kids make stupid mistakes, learn, and grow.” 

You hum, nuzzling further into her. “I hope I’m that calm when I’m a mom,” 

You pause.

“If I’m a mom.” 

That strikes right through Violet’s swollen heart, and she shakes her head, holding you a little closer. 

“You’re gonna be perfect.” She reassures. “Josie.. Gunner.. Rusty, Daisy, and our big beautiful city house are going to be so lucky to have you. I’m so lucky to have you. Never gettin’ rid of me.

You smile against her skin, placing a loving kiss. 

“Even if it takes ages for my pops to understand?” you mutter. 

“I don’t care if it takes a millennium.” she states confidently, a tender kiss graces your forehead before she looks you in the eyes.

“I love you, cherry.” 

And this time, you’re done holding back.

“I love you, Violet.” 

Your fingers, hearts, and lips intertwined as you share your most passionate kiss yet, one of the many for years to come.

Five years, to be exact. 

And five years later, as the blood refuses to circulate throughout your body and your heart ceases to beat, you die in Violet's arms.

Through her sobs and shattered heart, she can only smile at the fact that all the way until your death, she helped you truly live.

silknspice

[renai-fr]

Perler Flight Banners!

Made the first of these when I made the flight flags a bit back (my flight, Light), and figured it was a good time to make the rest of the flight banners and share the designs! To the best of my ability, they're also to scale with each other, so I think they'd look pretty good if you wanted to make the whole set and put 'em on your wall or something.

Sort of also for Dergtober's first prompt ("Flight"), but uh, ran into that thing with trad media where sometimes you run out of materials, ha! This is also why they're mostly not fused (Ice and Water share most of their mid/light blue beads, for example).

(Crafting info after the break!)

First off, all of these are either 17x34 or 19x34 (these squares are 17x17 on their own). They fit fine on the larger squares, but my big squares happen to all be either bright red or bright yellow, and don't show off the colors very well. They almost all use transparent beads for structural reasons- if you want to cross-stitch these, the transparent beads are fine to ignore! I was just making them so they could theoretically hang on a wall.

Colors used (my best guess, not gospel! I get most of my beads from kits/mixed bags, and they don't always list the color names :/ )

Light: Cream/Créme, Yellow, Cheddar, Transparent

Lightning: Copper (metallic), Robin's Egg, Parrot Green, Glitter Blue, Turquoise, Transparent

Fire: Black, Cherry, Orange, Cheddar, Neon Orange, Transparent

Arcane: Pearl Pink, Cheddar, Raspberry, Pink, Light Pink

Plague: Red, Cherry, Raspberry*, Pewter, Brown, Kiwi Lime

Earth: Brown, Light Brown, Pewter, Dark Gray

Ice: Robin's Egg, Pastel Blue, Gray, Dark Gray, Toothpaste, Light Blue

Shadow: Pastel Lavender, Purple, Dark Gray, Pewter, Toothpaste, Transparent

Wind: Kiwi Lime, Dark Green, Bright Green, Yellow, Rust, Red, Transparent

Water: Denim, Turquoise, Pastel Blue, Parrot Green, Teal, White, Marshmallow, Pastel Yellow, Transparent

Nature: Olive, Bright Green, Kiwi Lime, Dark Green, Marshmallow, Cream/Créme, Transparent

(* I used Raspberry on Plague's flag because I ran out of Cranberry. Cranberry looks WAY better, but like... mismatched didn't work at all. I highly suggest using Cranberry in place of Raspberry in all places it occurs on the design!)

Another color note- when you fuse metallic beads, the shiny stuff makes a lil halo around the bead's center hole. For Lightning, since they have wires/chains on their banner/support, I figured it would work fine, but you could swap the Copper beads out for Rust and it would look good enough, I think. You do lose the shiny factor doing that, though.

A couple of these extend off of the side of the boards; better to use a bigger board for them if you have one (or like, if you have a third 17x17, sticking it to the side of the others and scooting the entire design over a peg would also work!)

As is very visible on the Light banner, it's really easy to get a faulty fuse where the boards meet. The trick where you put masking tape/painter's tape on the back of the beads before ironing (the OTHER side, and then take the tape off to iron its side, to be clear) helps a lot on multi-board fuses. You don't have to poke holes in the tape, but I find that doing so with a ballpoint pen or what have you can help a lot with keeping the beads from moving around, etc.

Happy crafting- if you end up making any of these, please ping me (or um, whatever I'm supposed to call it... still don't quite know how this site works) so I can see!

[hayatheauthor]

Everything You Need To Know About Writing Bruises 

Welcome to the latest instalment in my ongoing series on crafting realistic wounds in fiction. After delving into stab wounds, burns, and gunshot wounds, we're turning our attention to another crucial element in bringing your characters and their stories to life: bruises.

Bruises are possibly the most common miswritten injury in fiction. As tempting as it might be to make the protagonist's skin bruise when the morally grey characters clutches her wrist, scenes like this only serve to ruin immersion and make your readers wonder whether this could realistically happen. 

Unlike the other wound types I've covered in this series, the internet doesn't seem to have a lot of writing advice for bruises. So, here's my comprehensive guide to writing bruises. 

Types of Bruises

Understanding Bruise Formation:

Bruises are a common occurrence in everyday life, from the accidental bump into a table corner to the aftermath of an intense sporting event. But before we dive into the art of crafting realistic bruises in your writing, let's start by understanding how bruises form.

Bruises, also known as contusions, result from the rupture of blood vessels beneath the skin's surface, typically veins and capillaries. When these vessels break, blood leaks into the surrounding tissue. The body's natural response to this injury is to initiate the healing process, causing inflammation and discolouration.

Differentiating Types of Bruises:

Not all bruises are created equal. Understanding the various types of bruises will help you describe them accurately in your writing. Here, we'll explore the common distinctions among bruise types.

Contusions: Contusions are the most typical type of bruises. They often occur due to blunt force or trauma, resulting in pain and discolouration.

Subcutaneous Bruises: These are the most typical bruises resulting from blunt force trauma. Subcutaneous bruises appear as dark, discoloured areas under the skin and can change in colour as they heal, starting with red or purple and transitioning to green, yellow, and eventually fading away.

Hematoma: A hematoma is a more severe type of bruise caused by the collection of blood outside of blood vessels. Hematomas often appear as a raised lump under the skin and can take longer to heal.

Petechiae: Petechiae are tiny, red or purple pinpoint spots that can form when small blood vessels near the skin's surface break. These are often a sign of more severe underlying medical conditions.

Ecchymosis: Ecchymosis is a large bruise that covers a wider area, typically caused by substantial trauma or medical conditions. These bruises tend to be darker and may require more time to heal.

Tattoo Bruises: Sometimes, an object's pattern or texture may leave a distinct mark, resembling a tattoo. These can occur when someone is subjected to direct pressure from an object with an intricate or textured surface.

These distinctions will enable you to convey the type of bruise accurately in your storytelling, reflecting the nature and severity of the injury your character has endured. So, when crafting a scene in which your character sustains a bruise, you can choose the type that best suits your narrative.

Causes of Bruises:

Bruises can occur for various reasons, and knowing these causes will help you craft believable narratives. It's important to note that not every physical interaction results in a bruise, and your characters shouldn't bruise from actions that typically don't lead to bruising. For instance, someone holding another person's arm tightly is unlikely to cause a bruise.

Common Causes of Bruises:

Blunt Force: The most common cause of bruises is blunt force trauma. This can occur from falls, accidents, or impacts, such as bumping into furniture or being struck by an object.

Pinching or Squeezing: Intense pinching or squeezing, especially on delicate skin areas, can lead to bruises. For example, if a character pinches their arm or thigh too hard in frustration, a bruise may develop.

Repetitive Motion: Overusing or repeatedly striking a particular area, like through strenuous exercise or certain work activities, can cause tiny blood vessels to rupture and lead to bruising.

Medical Conditions: Some medical conditions, like blood disorders or certain medications, can make a person more prone to bruising.

Ageing: As skin becomes thinner and more fragile with age, it's more susceptible to bruising even from minor bumps or impacts.

It's crucial to consider the appropriateness of a bruise in your story. Understanding when and how a character can realistically develop a bruise will help maintain the credibility of your narrative.

Characteristics of Bruises:

Accurately depicting bruises in your writing involves considering various characteristics, such as:

Colour Changes: Bruises typically undergo a series of colour changes during the healing process. They usually start with shades of red, purple, or blue due to the initial bleeding under the skin. As the bruise heals, it can turn green, yellow, or brown before fading entirely. These colour shifts can be an essential detail when describing the progression of a character's injuries.

Size and Shape: The size and shape of a bruise depend on the impact's force and the underlying blood vessels' distribution. Bruises can be small, like a fingertip mark, or large, covering a significant portion of the body. Irregularly shaped bruises may indicate multiple impacts or trauma.

Tenderness and Swelling: A fresh bruise is often tender to the touch, and the area around it may be swollen. Describing your characters' reactions to this tenderness and swelling can make the injuries feel more lifelike.

Pain and Discomfort: Bruises can be painful, and the level of pain may vary depending on their size and location. Detailing your character's pain and discomfort can enhance the realism of your narrative.

Itching and Healing: As a bruise heals, it may become itchy. This can be an interesting detail to add, showing the progress of the injury and your character's recovery.

Duration: Mention the duration of a bruise. Some may heal relatively quickly, while others can linger for weeks. Knowing how long a character's bruise lasts can impact their daily life and the story's timeline.

Factors Affecting Bruise Appearance and Healing:

Bruises aren't one-size-fits-all injuries. Their appearance and healing process can vary based on several factors:

Location: Bruises can look different depending on where they occur on the body. For instance, a bruise on a bony area, like the shin, might appear more pronounced compared to a bruise on a fleshier part, like the thigh.

Age and Health: The age and overall health of your character play a significant role. Younger, healthier characters may heal faster and have bruises that change colour and fade more quickly. Conversely, older characters or those with health issues might have bruises that take longer to heal.

The severity of the Injury: The force and severity of the impact determine the size, shape, and colours of the bruise. Consider whether the injury was caused by a minor bump, a hard fall, or a violent struggle.

Character's Skin Tone: The appearance of a bruise can be affected by the character's skin tone. It might be more challenging to spot a bruise on darker skin, and the colours may appear differently.

Treatment and First Aid: The way a character treats a bruise can affect its healing. Mention how characters apply ice, warmth, or topical remedies to their bruises.

Character's Pain Tolerance: Some characters may have a higher pain tolerance and can bear a bruise without much discomfort, while others might find even a small bruise painful.

Clothing and Cover-Up: Characters may conceal bruises with clothing or makeup. This can impact how they are perceived by others.

By understanding these factors, you can tailor your descriptions to create a more authentic portrayal of bruises in your writing.

Healing Process of Bruises:

A key element in writing realistic bruises is depicting their healing process. Here's how to effectively describe it:

Gradual Changes: Highlight the evolving nature of the bruise over time. The progression of colours—red to blue, green, and yellow—is a visual cue that indicates the bruise's age. This chronological shift in colour offers readers insights into the passage of time within your narrative.

Concealment and Exposure: Address the issue of concealing or revealing the bruise. Depending on its location, characters may need to don concealing clothing, apply makeup, or use other means to hide or reveal their injuries. Such choices can significantly impact the character's interactions and relationships.

Medical Care: Mention whether the character seeks medical attention for their bruise. Medical professionals can provide insights into the severity of the injury and the potential complications that might arise during the healing process. Additionally, you can explore any treatments, remedies, or advice offered by healthcare providers.

Impact on the Character: Describe how the presence of a bruise affects the character's daily life, activities, and interactions with others. A prominent facial bruise, for instance, can influence the character's self-esteem, social interactions, or how they are perceived by those around them. Emotions and psychological effects should not be overlooked.

Varied Healing Timelines: Recognize that the healing process can vary from one character to another. Factors such as age, overall health, and the severity of the injury can affect how quickly the bruise fades. This variation can add depth and authenticity to your character's experiences.

Scarring and Discoloration: Note that severe injuries may leave lasting scars or discolouration on the skin. Explore any permanent marks or changes that remain after the bruise has healed.

By incorporating these aspects into your narrative, you can create a nuanced portrayal of the healing process of bruises and its impact on your characters.

I hope this blog on Everything You Need To Know About Writing Bruises will help you in your writing journey. Be sure to comment any tips of your own to help your fellow authors prosper, and follow my blog for new blog updates every Monday and Thursday.  

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Haya’s book blog where I post writing and publishing tips for authors every Monday and Thursday! And don’t forget to head over to my TikTok and Instagram profiles @hayatheauthor to learn more about my WIP and writing journey! 

[demonslayedher]

Kimetsu no Yaiba merch and a chance to get nerdy with it? Don’t mind if I do.

Bath time!!

This set of a towel, badge to hang on a bag like one you might take to your local bathhouse, and Swordsmith Village onsen-inspired bath salt was originally sold at the traveling Gotouge gallery, but many of those items were put up for sale again recently at a handful of Shonen Jump stores. I highly enjoyed the very flamboyant bath bomb I got at an Ufotable gallery, so I decided to give it a shot. I like onsen too, and the one in the Swordsmith Village is supposed to be especially nice, right?

In order to be classified as such in the modern Reiwa era, naturally occurring onsen must be at least 25 degrees C when the water emerges from the earth and have a minimum concentration of 1 to 19 certain minerals (amounts per 1kg of water vary depending on the mineral). If they have enough dissolved mineral content to be an onsen but don’t have a particularly high concentration of any mineral, they are classified as simple, low-alkaline onsen. So like, still nice, but harder to brag about. Locals will brag anyway. However, if the water has a high enough concentration of a particular kind of mineral, then it will be classified into different categories. The locals will really brag about these ones and their many health and beauty benefits, and even though there have been studies of some sort, it’s safest to say “purported” benefits. If you want to get nerdy with it, start here.

So anyway, the manga didn’t get that detailed, but, Ufotable wrote this in about the Swordsmith Village onsen: “It can heal anything, like cuts, burns, hemorrhoids and bleeding piles, constipation, gout, broken heart, anything.”

However, this is a product from a manga gallery, and Ufotable did not necessarily influence the making of it. Going by this product (which I’ll bet Gotouge had no influence on the production of), here are some things we might suppose. This particular product is a mix of sodium sulfate, sodium chloride, sodium bicarbonate, sodium carbonate, and sodium thiosulfate. If you’re only bathing in it and not drinking it (and the package says not to drink it), then it purportedly would help with cuts, bruises, burns, skin ailments, dry skin, reducing inflammation, muscle pain, joint pain, sensitivity to the cold, depression, and the ever mysterious “women’s ailments.” If you were to drink clean onsen waters like these, it purportedly could also help with constipation, too.

Although it’s not enough to consider it something your body would absorb any benefit from, there is enough sulfur in this product to give it a fun(ky) smell. Enough of a sulfur smell to make your brain think, “yay, onsen,” without quite enough to think “ew, rotten eggs.” Now, this suggests that the onsen in the Swordsmith Village also has that mineral component, which would also purportedly make it good for treating acne and diabetes. This might also be one of the components that made it hard for Tanjirou to sniff out a secret training weapon.

So like, that covers a lot of the claims Ufotable wrote in. Maybe to cover that gout claim, it’s also carbonated or radioactive. Who knows.

There’s one more thing this product includes: artificial color! For the onsen nerd, there’s a lot more to categorizing onsen than just their mineral content. There’s also how slick or grainy the water feels, how clear or cloudy it is, and what color it appears! Although many are known for being crystal clear, there’s a range of tints, including dramatic ones like reddish-orange, aquamarine, and black. In this case, they merely recreated the effect for fun. With a base of red, yellow, and blue, the powder starts a nice rosy pink when it’s dry in the package, and then---HOLY YORIICHI WHAT IS THAT

That is soooooo not an appealing color, ohhhh my gooooshhhh

Although it all mostly mixes into a yellowish-brownish cloud, there are random bits of magenta or teal or even purple-ish-ness. The tiny specs that wound up on the edges of my bathtub made it look like they chose some strange way to page homage to Mitsuri, Muichiro, and Genya all at once.

Anyway, the color eventually settled to more of a muddy yellow and I got in. The sulfur scent was only enough to be pleasant, the texture was somewhat on the silky side but not dramatically so, and I was healed of all my wounds and ailments. Purportedly.

[donovankinard]

what's up guys!!! monthly recs - some holiday-related fics and then just general fics. i've not had as much opportunity to read fic as i normally do, and i'm pretty disappointed by that, but the hecticness of the holiday season has restrained me, unfortunately. for december we've got a lot of buddie and tevan, tarlos, bathena, mateo/nancy, polyfire, saltommy and a dash of henren! happy new years<3

🎁 cheap décor and flavoured cheer || @theclaravoyant evan buckley/eddie diaz/tommy kinard || 4k When Eddie flies back to El Paso, something goes terribly wrong. A fic about hurt/comfort, nostalgia, Christmas and coming home.

🔥 thursdays child has far to go|| @kinnsporsche evan buckley/tommy kinard || 17k Tommy laughs, as much as it can be called a laugh when he can barely get the air to do it, but his breath still grazes against Buck’s lips, the ghost of what he really wants. It’s warm, and Tommy’s still looking at him, and it’s been eighteen days, and he’s baked on nearly every one of them. They’re in a crashed helicopter and Tommy’s pinned down and it’s a terrible idea and it’s been eighteen days, he’s counted every one, and- Buck kisses him.

🔥 snowflakes falling like winter butterflies || 2pretty_2die evan buckley/tommy kinard || 1.6k “Oh man, I don’t think I’ve seen snow in nearly a decade.” “I don’t think I’ve ever seen snow outside of TV and movies.”An off-handed comment made while they cuddled on the couch watching Tommy’s favorite (Christmas) movie on Netflix ended with Buck scouring the internet for a surprise for his boyfriend.

🔥 Misperception || @emphasisonthehomo evan buckley/tommy kinard || 7.2k There’s a new kid at Harbor. He’s the youngest rookie they’ve ever gotten, one of those guys that went for the academy right out of high school. He’s also gay. Flamboyantly gay. Tommy’s jealous. OR: It doesn’t occur to Tommy that he should come out.

🔥 Bulletproof || ScarsLikeVelvet evan buckley/david 'deacon' kay || 1.1k (S.W.A.T. crossover). A rain of bullets is the beginning of the end for Evan's and Eddie's time at the 118. Their professional paths divide, but they remain close all the same while making new friends.

🔥 take my hand, heal my wound || 2pretty_2die evan buckley/donovan rocker || 1.2k (S.W.A.T. crossover). Buck expected a lot when it came to a day of hanging out with Christopher. He knew they’d play some games, maybe watch a movie, go indulge in some good food—because he has definitely turned the kid into a fellow foodie—and likely spend some time out in the sun. What he did not expect to happen was to end the day cleaning gravel from his boyfriend's hands.

🔥 A quiet place || @calinaannehart athena grant/bobby nash || 2.7k Athena had given up trying to sleep somewhere around three and had settled on the couch to wait for the sunrise. It used to be her favorite time of day, the array of reds, oranges, and yellows that painted the sky over the backyard as the sun inched its way over the horizon offering a prelude to a beautiful day. Now, however, it served as nothing more than a countdown.

🔥 Sprinkles of Joy|| BatThatBites mateo chavez/nancy gillian || 2k Mateo and Nancy are tasked with making the cookies for the 126 winter party. It can’t be that hard, right? ….Right?

🔥 A Crack In The Facade || immortalje carlos reyes/tk strand || 634w Working on last bits of release paperwork, Carlos tried to process the conversation he just had with TK and the glimpse it had given him behind the facade he wore for everyone else.

🔥 my lover's body is a map || @kinnsporsche evan buckley/tommy kinard || 15.5k They're all scarred. All of them. There isn't a single person in the firehouse that's unscarred, it's just the nature of the job. But that doesn't make the process of getting them any easier to deal with. Or: the one where Buck's drawn to Tommy's scars.

🔥 voyage || miss_tessa carlos reyes/tk strand || 1.4k The night before Carlos goes to see his father, and the moments after.

🔥 love from the other side || @fallout-mars carlos reyes/tk strand || 2.4k “Baby, oh my god,” TK replies, the words rushing out. Barely realizing what he’s doing, he manages to abandon the cups on the table over the hospital bed, moving to his husband. He’s glad he has enough hindsight—or paramedic instincts—to go to his uninjured side, because his first response is to help steady Carlos. He’s fine on his feet, but TK does it anyway, just to feel helpful. “What are you doing up?” he asks as he leads Carlos back to his bed. “You really shouldn’t be up, baby. I thought I could leave you alone for five minutes without you walking around.” Carlos says nothing until he’s back in bed, groaning softly as he lies down. TK follows, hovering over him so he can fluff up the pillow Carlos puts his head on, and that’s when Carlos sighs.

🔥 Campbell’s Soup for the Soon-to-Be Ranger Daddy’s Soul || cyrusbreeze carlos reyes/tk strand || 3.7k Carlos reflects on the possibility of raising Jonah with TK. Ranger Campbell and his family offer a surprising amount of clarity.

🔥 We can make it out (right?) || BatThatBites mateo chavez/nancy gillian || 2.7k Nancy didn’t expect to have her hands sticky with her boyfriend’s blood. Mateo didn’t expect to be bleeding out in a warehouse fire. They both didn’t expect an asteroid to be hurtling towards Austin

🔥 looking forward to the future || @fallout-mars carlos reyes/tk strand || 1.5k Glancing over his shoulder, he looks into the empty backseat of their truck. He stretches a little, careful not to strain himself or his stitches, then gestures behind him with one hand. “You think we’ll be able to get a car seat in here?” Meeting TK’s eye, he gets a blank stare in return. “What?” “A car seat,” Carlos repeats. “It’s good we ended up with this. There’s no way we’d fit one in the Camaro. In fact, we’d be violating multiple traffic offences if we did.”

🔥 you can breathe now || @decafdino carlos reyes/tk strand || 1.7k He gets the call while he's at work, because of course he does. Of course the universe decides that something terrible is going to happen in the middle of a shift. Well, fuck the universe. That's TK's philosophy.

🔥 I can't explain what's up with me today || @neversleepuntilfive carlos reyes/tk strand || 1.3k "Hey baby, are you okay?” TK quietly asks his boyfriend, who is sitting on their couch with his head slumped against the armrest. He just came home from his long shift. Carlos doesn’t answer him immediately, contemplating if he can gather his strength and push through it so TK isn’t worried. The truth is the day was horrible. He doesn’t even know why. Carlos usually gets up with the sun. But today, he doesn't. He's feeling terrible and can't think of a reason why. There is no reason as far as he is concerned.

🔥 Not your fault but mine || Liv_lily carlos reyes/tk strand || 13k TK stood just outside the recovery room they’d wheeled Carlos into, leaning heavily against the wall. There’d been a never-ending stream of medical professionals going in and out since the surgeon had let them know that everything went well, that a full recovery could be expected with time. He squeezes shaking hands into fists and tries to control his breathing, tries to stop the weight on his chest from collapsing in. He feels shaky and nauseous, panic crawling up his spine. Deep breaths, four count in through your nose. Hold four counts. Four count out your through your mouth. He tries to match his breathing to the slow beeping of the vital signs monitor, tries to take comfort in the steady rhythm. He should go into the room.

🔥 in our reflections of one another (we will start something new) || cyrusbreeze carlos reyes/tk strand || 212k (SERIES). Four years before the events of the pilot, Carlos and TK met in a bar in New York City. Their intense one night stand resulted in more than just a lasting impression. When TK arrives in Austin, both Carlos’ and TK’s worlds are rocked to their core and the impact of their night together has ripples that will last for the rest of their lives.

🔥 I am sorry for your loss || carlando_addict carlos reyes/tk strand || 2.3k TK dies and Carlos tries to process what his future will look like without the love of his life.

🔥 Faithless Plea || lonechronicles evan buckley/eddie diaz || 8.2k “I have done everything I was supposed to and still my life has fallen apart, and been ripped to shreds. I, I don’t know how much more I have left in me. You have taken everything from me. You can not have him too. You can’t take him away from me too. Please, please, don’t take him away too. Give Buck back to me because I cannot survive this, I cannot survive anything without him.” His voice was loud, not yelling, but loud enough that if someone had come outside they’d hear a voice. “I don’t even know if I believe in you but here I am, asking, begging, praying, a faithless plea if you will, just, please. Please, for the love of everything that you stand for, bring him back to me. I don’t survive this if he doesn’t make it.”

🔥 Him || lonechronicles evan buckley/eddie diaz || 5k He’s trapped in his head. The lyrics eating at him from every corner of his being. Religion and God and the sins of loving another man, the story vivid in his mind. A man raised on faith, feeling lost and disconnected. Trying to find himself, to understand himself, while feeling like that removes him from everything he's been taught to believe in. Feeling like connecting to himself will rip him away from everything that he knows, alienates him from his family, leaves him heartbroken and alone. So he hides. Hides himself, shelves his feelings and pushes through with what he’s meant to do. There’s a path perfectly laid out for him and it’s safer to follow it. It’s easier. He loses himself but everything else in his life stays intact, and that might just be enough. At least it is for a while.

🔥 you will get a sentimental feeling when you hear voices singing || @smilingbuckley evan buckley/eddie diaz || 2k Buck mopes, has a conversation with Bobby, and goes to a charity event.

🔥 a wolf without a foot || @screamlet evan buckley/tommy kinard || 34k Tommy wants to find his way back to Buck, but he has to find a way through himself first.

🔥 They Can't Take That Away From Me || @rdng1230 evan buckley/tommy kinard || 3.5k Tommy dabs the corners of his mouth with a napkin and gets up from the table, going over to the record player. “Is it wrong that I kinda like that there’s these gaps in your musical knowledge?” Tommy sighs, slipping a record out of the sleeve and placing it on the turn table. “You teach me so much, it’s nice to be able to show you things too. Makes me feel like I’m listening to things for the first time.” Buck feels his heart swell three sizes. He still feels like Tommy’s the one instructing him most of the time. And here comes his boyfriend calling him the teacher. He has a sneaking suspicion his love for this man will never stop growing.

🔥 Shafted || @sunnywithachanceofbi sal deluca/tommy kinard || 6.1k When the 118 are called to rescue a group of employees trapped in an elevator shaft, the power goes out again mid-rescue, leading one of the crew to get hurt.

🔥 100 Days of Henren || @theclaravoyant hen wilson/karen wilson || 4k (ongoing drabble collection). A series of 118-word drabbles centred on Hen, Karen and/or both. Written for 118dailydrabbles hiatus challenge.

🔥 Frost & Found || @sunnywithachanceofbi evan buckley/tommy kinard || 13k Two years after losing his husband (Sal), Tommy magically brings a handsome snowman (Buck) to life! Through his naïveté, the snowman helps Tommy to laugh, feel and love again, as the two fall for each other just in time for the holidays...and before he melts. ☃️

🔥 proof of god in your soup || cardiacsweetheart evan buckley/eddie diaz || 13.5k “God, we’re too old for this.” “What, love confessions?” Buck asks, just to be annoying. Eddie glares at him. “Not what I meant, but sure.” Or: Buck thinks he was born to be left behind. Eddie proves him wrong.

🔥 sell your fear and leave me standing here || @redgoldblue evan buckley/tommy kinard || 12.8k Buck bakes, has sex, and goes to gay bingo. Tommy wallows, gets told off, and wallows some more. Eventually, they kiss again.

🔥 The "Tommy Writes Hotshots Fanfic" Series || @herrmannhalsteadproduction evan buckley/tommy kinard || 7.7k Tommy gets sucked into the Hotshots fandom. (It's Karen and Maddie's fault.)

🔥 Chasing Fires || @thatmexisaurusrex evan buckley/tommy kinard || 150k 24-year-old Tommy Kinard meets 19-year-old Evan Buckley as Evan tries to steal food at a grocery store. Tommy decides to let Evan crash at his place until Evan figures out what his next steps are, giving Evan the same help someone had given Tommy when he had been kicked out of his house years ago.

🔥 our secret moments in a crowded room (they've got no idea about me and you) || @speaknowbuckley evan buckley/eddie diaz || 13.3k Professional Baseball Player Eddie Diaz and Professional Football Player Evan "Buck" Buckley have been married for the past six years, not that anyone outside of their close circle of friends and family knows that. But after they're photographed together and the internet starts going wild with sleuthing and conspiracy theories about their relationship, they're forced to consider whether or not the time may be right to come out publicly.

🔥 comeback of the year || @ambernotember evan buckley/tommy kinard || 5.1k Casey distracted him with stories of baby eagles and a dispensary hostage situation while Tommy drank his whiskey and worked his way towards telling Casey what had happened with Evan.

🔥 with a little help from your (best) friend || @exhaustedpirate evan buckley/tommy kinard || 1.9k “Why aren’t you wearing pants?” (or, what happened after buck and eddie sat down the couch)

STATS: # of fics: 35 # of authors: 30 # of words read: 575k

[will80sbyers]

Holly Wheeler's room in season 5

We have a drawing of ballerinas (like if someone is getting Vecnad), one drawing of an owl (?) (owls in the background = bad omens theory) with a red balloon(?) like in IT and the one near the yellow I don't get exactly what it could be... She also has a blonde Barbie head that I feel like could be both because she's a kid that wants to play at being pretty and because for the symbolism it's an image of her mom I think

Lots of colours and happy vibes, she seems to be a very artistic kid, she also plays something (I think it's most likely a violin)

she loves rainbows, the plushie seems to be either a mouse or a bear but I'm leaning towards the mouse because she has the Fievel poster... I'm curious about that other smaller poster but I don't know what it could be about...

Then we also had this side of her room with the Alf poster

Alf is an alien that "likes to eat cats and comment on the stupidity of humanity" apparently... Demodog/Henry related imo

Plot of the show from Wikipedia:

Gordon Shumway is an alien from the planet Melmac who follows an amateur radio signal to Earth and crash-lands into the garage of the Tanners, a suburban middle-class family who live in the San Fernando Valley area of California. The family consists of social worker Willie (Max Wright), his wife Kate (Anne Schedeen), their teenage daughter Lynn (Andrea Elson), younger son Brian (Benji Gregory), and pet cat Lucky. ( Holly Wheeler as a cat... lol )

Willie gives Gordon the nickname ALF ("Alien Life Form"), and, unsure what to do, the Tanners take ALF into their home to hide him from the Alien Task Force, a part of the U.S. military that specializes in aliens, and their nosy neighbors Trevor and Raquel Ochmonek (John La Motta and Liz Sheridan), until he can repair his spacecraft. Though his culture shock, survivor's guilt, and loneliness often cause problems for the Tanners, as well as their fear of what could happen if others were to discover his existence, they grow to care for and love him as a part of the family.

It is later revealed that ALF's home planet, Melmac, exploded due to nuclear war, leaving him and other survivors of his species without a home, and that he survived its destruction because he was away as part of the Melmac Orbit Guard. In the season one episode "Pennsylvania 6-5000", ALF tries to convince the President of the United States to stop the nuclear program, as he fears that Earth could suffer a similar fate to Melmac, though a misunderstanding causes the President and national security to call the FBI to arrest Willie.

Episodes dealt with ALF learning about Earth and making new friends both within and outside the Tanner family, including Willie's brother Neal (Jim J. Bullock), Kate's widowed mother Dorothy (Anne Meara), with whom ALF has a love-hate relationship, her boyfriend and later husband Whizzer (Paul Dooley), the Ochmoneks' nephew Jake (Josh Blake), the psychologist Larry (Bill Daily) and the blind woman Jody (Andrea Covell), who never learns of ALF's true nature, but does know through touch that he is short and hairy.

Changes occur in the Tanner household over the course of the series, including the birth of a new child, Eric, who was added to the series because Anne Schedeen was pregnant at the time; ALF moving from the laundry room to the attic, which he and Willie convert into an "apartment", and the death of Lucky in the season four episode "Live and Let Die", which ALF accepts despite having previously attempted to catch and eat him due to having come to love and respect him. When ALF adopts a new cat with the intention of eating it, he grows fond of it and allows the Tanners to adopt it.

(Maybe Henry grows fond of Holly and doesn't kill her because of that???)

In the 1996 movie Project ALF, which follows ALF after his capture by the USAF, the Tanners do not appear due to moving to Iceland.

and some books of foreshadowing that we analyzed previously, Peter Pan, A royal Pain, Nancy Drew and the secret of the old clock... which tbh seems all related to Henry and seeing that he will take Holly at one point it makes sense

These are the covers, it seems she's in the middle of reading the Nancy book because she has a bookmark there

An important note is that one of these books, A Royal Pain, talks about someone thinking they've been switched at birth with someone else, and this switched at birth idea gets also associated with Nancy in season 3 when she talks to her mom...

Then we have obviously the "Nancy" book with the clock being related to Vecna's clock and there's a mystery connected to this clock and then Peter Pan which Henry is sort of a dark version of that when he takes children away to a land where they stop growing........... 💀

people have already talked about this and also about Petergate (the name Peter gets repeated in the show SO many times) and the belief that there might be someone important to the story called Peter that we don't know about yet, or maybe that has been mentioned only once in season 4 aka Owens son that seems to be both dead and somehow, the military thinks he may be related to how Chrissy died so maybe he died in the same way as her?

Because they take his things and put this line in the show for some reason

[pinkiemachine]

Krypton: Factoids and Neat Things to Know!

Located in the nearby Andromeda Galaxy, specifically in the Rao system, Krypton was a cold, icy, crystalline planet. Fifth from its sun, most life existed in the habitable zone of its equator, which was always closest to the sun. This also meant that seasons did not occur the same way as on Earth, where the tilt of our axis causes the Northern and Southern Hemispheres to be further or closer to the sun depending on where we are in our orbit. Rather, Krypton’s orbit itself was slightly off kilter, meaning that while its axis was perfectly vertical, it would still experience colder and warmer months of its years depending on where in its orbit it was.

The summers there ranged from 60° to 70° at its warmest, and -10° to -20° during the coldest of the winter months. Further North or South of the habitable zone would mean even harsher, colder temperatures, and were generally only explored during the summer.

Krypton had two large continents—Lurvan, and Urrika—as well as several other smaller continents/islands like Vathlo. By the time the planet had neared its end, both continents had united under their own form of central leadership, with relatively peaceful ties between the two.

They were a Level 6 Star Faring race, and had dedicated much time, money, and resources into exploring the galaxy and inventing new technologies. They had made contact with the Green Lantern Corps decades before, had established contact with their neighbouring planet, Thoron, beginning trade with them, had made breakthrough after breakthrough with medicine and state-of-the-art technology, and had even been made a part of the Inter-Planetary Coalition (IPC). They had established contact and ties with many other planets, had set up minor colonies among the stars, and so much more.

Also, due to the fact that red suns send out WAY more radiation than yellow suns, Kryptonians are naturally able to absorb radiation, thus allowing them to fly and shoot lasers, etc. On Earth, Clark’s powers are actually WEAKER if you can believe it. Spiking in the summer, quelling in the winter.

As far culture goes, I haven’t written a whole lot yet, however, do not go making the assumption that they were a peaceful, all-knowing, always-do-gooding advanced race just because their technology is advanced. Like on Earth, there are layers. There was a gross amount of entertainment, mass media, disparity between the richest and the poorest, tons of struggles and problems that we humans know all too well. But, one main difference between them and, say, the United States, is that they had a much more structured system for their society. What I mean is, they leaned into classism a bit, and there were a ton of noble families still, the Els being one of them, children were taught to be well behaved and respectful, etc etc. it was all very upper crust. At least… among the upper crust. Elsewhere, different systems prevailed. At any rate, it’s very complicated and I need to dedicate some time to writing it out thoroughly.

Thank you for your time.

Part two here 👇

[alienarthouse]

A bit of a change of pace from my typical scifi spec bio, but I’ve been drawing a lot of fantasy art lately and started thinking about my goblins again.

In my D&D homebrew/original high fantasy world, Fulcire, the goblinoids (a family consisting of such species as the goblins, hobgoblins, and bugbears) are distinct from the humanoids, having evolved from a different common ancestor. They are the older of the two families, having evolved somewhere between 20,000 and 70,000 years earlier. Goblins were the first of the family to evolve in their modern form, making them the oldest intelligent mortal life on the plane. They alternate between quadrupedal and bipedal stances, are opportunistic omnivores, surviving on a mix of gathering and scavenging, but never actively hunting. Before the modern age of city-building, they kept migratory paths that they traveled across over the span of several years. These days, though, they tend to live more sedentary lives in the isolation of deep wilderness, because where their’s and humanoid’s paths cross, a fight almost always seems to end up breaking out.

More fun facts below:

- As a weird quirk of their evolution, goblinoids are better able to understand large numbers as a concept than humanoids. Where the humanoid mind struggles to imagine numbers into the thousands, tens-of-thousands, and beyond, goblinoids do not. This is theorized to be due to the fact that goblinoids evolved from an animal that had a herd-like social structure, rather than a pack-like one. An individual could need to know hundreds to thousands of other people on a personal level, and those that could work in such large numbers tended to be the most successful members of the herd, eventually selecting towards this particular quirk. As a result, Goblins and goblinoids are fantastic trend-spotters, and have both a fantastic memory and a quick mind for mathematics. It’s no coincidence that their agriculture requires keeping careful track of plant and animal populations across wide tracts of land over many years, and figuring out how to manipulate them season-by-season to the benefit of both themselves, and for the local ecosystem.

- Goblin clothing and fashion is quite unique when compared to humanoid clothing. Goblins do have a taboo against nudity in most cultures, but the structure of their body means that what they must cover differs. All goblinoids are mammalian, though their breast tissue is on their stomach, not their chest. To have an exposed belly, then, is considered appropriate for men, but not women, in Goblin societies (this, of course, can vary depending on societal practices regarding nursing, but that’s a whole different topic). An exposed chest, meanwhile, is commonly considered a sign of bravery in warriors, though more often than not warriors will wear chest-plates in real combat. Everyday styles, such as an exposed chest, are designed to allow for ease of movement in both bipedal and quadrupedal stances. The classic shirt, as humans style it, tend to pull and rub at a Goblin’s shoulders, which are structured more like that of a very flexible cat than a human. A lean towards functionality does not stop Goblins from accessorizing, though, covering clothes in embroidery, beadwork, and decorating with anything that shines or makes a nice jingling sound. Patterns and motifs may stem from Goblin folklore and history, or may be adopted from other species’ cultures. Clothing style is not restricted based on sex in any case other than when it comes to nudity in a particular culture, but it is common for those with magical ability to wear styles that differ from those who do not.

- Goblins have brightly pigmented skin, ranging from green to yellow to red, with the depth of color believed to signal good health. They may very rarely have striped or spotted patterns on their skin, but if not painted-on, this tends to be the result of an individual having some hobgoblin or bugbear ancestry, rather than a naturally occurring pattern. Compared to humanoids, they have an extended hairline, which starts lower on the forehead, extending down the neck and back, and across the shoulders. It often stops at the low-back, but it is not unheard of to have a furred tail. They range between 2.5 to 3.5 feet in height when standing bipedally, though are taller when their ears are taken into account. They are mammalian, and give birth in litters of 1-3 pups per season. Goblins have retractable claws, and their teeth fall out regularly across the seasons, though they only fall out all at once if a Goblin is in truly dire health. Lost teeth are often given as a sign of affection to family, friends, and/or lovers. While Goblins may not be religious, they are often spiritual, and keeping a loved one’s tooth is thought to help keep track of them, in life and in death. In fact, when a particularly beloved Goblin passes, when they are interred below the roots or in the hollow of a tree, they are often buried with great numbers of living Goblin’s teeth, so that they may find and recognize one another again in the world beyond.

[hecateisalesbian]

The Pride of June: QPR

Todays Art Piece (Bottom) was made by @bloggingboutburgers. Please go check out their blog and support her work :)

Scroll to the bottom for a message from todays tumblr user!

The Queer Platonic (Relationship) Flag (QPR) is the Flag used it to describe someone who is in a committed and intimate relationship that are not romantic. This is typically beyond regular friendship and the closeness of each partner can vary

Fun History Fact: The concept QPR originates in aromantic and asexual spaces in the LGBT community. Like romantic relationships, queerplatonic relationships are sometimes said to involve a deeper and more profound emotional connection than typical friendship.

Tumblr User: @hecateisalesbian, @bloggingboutburgers and their partner @civiart

Media Character: Daph and Thomas from The Interpretation of Shadows by @nyoomian are in a QPR.

Why the colors? Pink is a lighter version of red which represents how QPRs are like romantic relationships , the Yellow represents platonic relationships, and the darkening Grey represents the Aro/Ace community

Where can I find the calendar? The calendar is my pinned post on my blog @hecateisalesbian! This will be occurring all throughout June, and tags such as #The Pride of June and #PoJ Project can be used to find my post

Side Note by Me: A little more information on QPRs and an example how on they act can be found here. This card was created by @nyoomian

Special Message from @civiart

What it's like to be in a QPR? "Well, at the very least the QPR I'm in is very comfortable I'll say far most! It's hard to define in exact words to describe the relationship. It's the closeness and comfortable vulnerability of being with someone that you see as your life partner. The more meme-esque way I like describing it is Akhts is my ride or die!! Life is crazy and so unpredictable! It throws hands at ya in anyway it wants to and you just have to figure out how to roll with the punches and face it! It gets hard to face it on your own, so it's nice to build a dynamic with someone where you can share the messiness of life. There's that element of closeness you have with them that's just really comforting and fills your heart in a special way. It's always an honor being able to spend time together with a beloved and feel that solidarity confidence in one another. It's like the dynamic and development for this relationship just lead up to it naturally without the mix of romance and sexual attraction. It's definitely a relationship of what feels right to each individual. At least for mine, I'm really happy being in a QPR with Akhts! The dear really gives me a lot of comfort, company, and honestly sharing the braincell too. I'm honored to have her company and will absolutely prance my adoration for her! Life feels so much more fuller with her!"

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡His Addiction｡⋆.

Kylo Ren x plus size reader

His Choice Masterlist

The crash was destined to come but it shouldn't have been this bad

Chapter Warnings: dubcon turned slight noncon, smut, size kink, d/s dynamics, blood, rough sex, getting hurt during sex, anger, angst, fear, no safewords, this is a really intense chapter so please heed the warnings, no foreplay or preparation, needles, kidnapping

WC: 1.3k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

It was lonely in those chambers she was confined to. The black and deep red decorations made her feel out of place dressed in a sheer white nighty, a silver collar hanging from her neck, reflecting the dim light of the stars they passed. The bedroom she was trapped in always seemed cold, especially with the thick metal chain keeping her tied to the bed, constantly touching the naked skin of her back and arms.

She had no doubt it was one of the more beautiful places on the ship but she still detested being alone here. It was always far too quiet and against her better judgement, she was craving her master’s presence. In her mind, he was so large that he took up most of the space, drowning out the darkness of isolation with the light of his haunting yellow eyes.

Sighing, she lay back against the bed and fished the holopad he had given her out from under her pillow. It was highly censored and monitored but she could read and watch small nature documentaries, so she didn’t complain. It had been days since she had last seen the sith, according to the stormtrooper who brought her meals every third day, something big was brewing. There were rumours that a Jedi had been captured by the First Order.

If that was true, then Kylo would be away for a lot longer than just a couple days and she would have to get used to being alone. 

Just as she settled into yet another documentary about Hoth, the lights in the room went red as a siren blared. The ground rumbled beneath her and the stars shifted. Y/N grabbed at her chain and braced herself as the gravity around her shifted and she was thrown back against the headboard. 

She winced as the cold chain pushed into her spine. It was a few seconds before her body adjusted and she was able to sit up properly again. It wasn’t right, this Star Destroyer shouldn’t be in hyperspace unless an attack had occurred. 

Y/N slipped from the bed, getting a better angle on the window. The chain pulled tight as she stretched, waiting for the ship to stop. Soon enough, they did stop and dread filled her veins.

Debris floated past the window, huge chunks of it. Whatever had been destroyed had been much larger than any Star Destroyer she had ever seen and may well have been larger than the Death Star if the stories she had been told in her youth were true. There were bodies as well, stormtroopers and admirals alike, all being given to the vast expanse of space.

Her eyes squeezed shut and she turned away, unwilling to look at the carnage anymore. Alarms still blared overhead, signalling that they were still at battle stations, TIE fighters and Star Cruisers streak by but then suddenly, everything stops.

The alarms shut off but the lights remain a terrifying red. Y/N’s breathing began to pick up, something was wrong. Fear settled into her bones, causing her skin to erupt with goosebumps. Thundering footsteps came from just outside the door. She snapped her head forward, curling her body into itself, shrinking down into the sheets as if it would provide ample protection.

The doors slammed open, revealing Kylo. He had no mask on, his clothes were damp and most shockingly, a scar. It ran from the side of his neck all the way across his face, ending just beneath his eye. It was huge and red with infection, just barely being held together by a mesh-like bandage beneath his pale skin.

“On your hands and knees.” He barked but she didn’t move, still too shaken to comprehend what was happening. “Now!” She yelped as the room exploded with power and turned over onto her front. Her arms shook as she braced herself against the silk sheets.

There was no preparation, no warning, only the lifting her dress over her back and his gloved hands clamping down on her hips and then he was inside of her. Pain radiated through her body. He felt far too big like this, like his cock was ripping her in half. Kylo grunted and began to move. His thrusts quickly became violent, the air around them heating with his rage.

Y/N buried her face in the pillow, muffling her sobs as best she could, even sneaking a hand between her legs to her small bundle of nerves to lessen the blow. Instead she received a growl from the sith as one hand grabbed the back of her neck and pinned her to the bed. “Fucking rebel! Ruined everything!” His hips slammed harshly into her ass. He had no steady rhythm, he was not searching for a release, he was just fucking out his frustration.

“I will find her.” He snarled and for some reason, the thought that he was using her as a punching bag in place of another woman, that caused Y/N to snap.

“Stop!” She cried, thrashing as hard as she could below him but it did nothing more than make him even angrier. 

“Stop disobeying me!” There was a whoosh of air and then all she could feel was pain. The scream she let out immediately pulled him from the haze of rage that had settled over his mind. He flinched as he finally saw what he had done.

There was blood everywhere, rolling from several large gashes across her back, staining her untainted skin. He could hear her crying and see where she had ripped the sheets with her fingernails, how bruised he had left her. But most of all, he could feel the betrayal and the sadness rolling off of her in huge waves. He had done this, he had hurt her because he was so blinded by his own failures, he had used the force to hurt her.

Kylo said nothing as he pulled out of her and turned away, unwilling to see the consequences of his actions. Her sobs rang in his ears as he ran.

Y/N lay alone, her tears long-since dried but the pain was still just as raw as it was hours ago. This, this was what she should have expected. Kylo Ren was still just a man, a man who had bought her so she could be his toy. That’s what hurt most, not the slashes across her back but the fact that she had so easily fallen into the delusion that he had actually cared for her.

She felt like a stupid child.

She watched as debris floated by, slowly lessening as the hours wore on. She could not even gather the strength to pull her dress back down over her naked body, nor move from the now rough sheets. She just watched as the universe passed her by.

Darkness was beginning to grow at the edge of her vision when voices floated through the empty halls. She attempted to sit up but her back screamed when she moved even slightly so she just turned her head to watch the doors, half-expecting and half-dreading that it would be her master who opened them.

But instead she was treated with a small group of people, not dressed like anyone in the First Order. “That’s her.” One whispered to another before a shorter one in the group retorted- “We need to move now, before he comes back.”

Her eyes went wide with panic as two of them moved forward towards her. She tried to lift herself from the bed to run but her injuries were too great and she remained paralysed, only able to watch as they came closer. “If you kill me, he’ll hunt you down.” She hissed, desperately trying to believe her own lie.

“That’s what we’re counting on.” One of them spoke and before she could scream, a needle was jammed into her neck and unconsciousness consumed her.

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His Choice

@the-queen-of-sorrows

[serenescribe]

Bit of an odd request but I was listening to a bit of music and I was hit by an idea-

Idk if you know the tale of the Snow Queen, but essentially snow queens powerful ice mirror shatters, all but two pieces are recovered. One shard lands in a boys eye making him turn icey and Queen snatched him up.

However consider- Snow King Silver dragging a “mortal” who has a piece of something that was his. Unaware said “mortal” is actually a fae whose intrigued by this King’s combination of harshness yet tenderness.

the snow prince Twisted Wonderland | 3.9k Summary: A mysterious spell afflicts one Lilia Vanrouge, encasing his heart in frigid cold. AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51960883

FREED FROM UNI, I AM! I actually had this written for a while, but put off posting it to save it for a more appropiate season. I really love Snow Queen retellings and AUs, so this was a LOT of fun to write! Thank you, Olive! :D

(An aside: There are extremely minor spoilers for TWST CH7 in here; they're all under the cut and mentioned in passing. If you're trying to avoid every little detail of CH7, I'd suggest passing up on this!)

In the heat of a sweltering summer that sweeps Briar Valley like a storm, Lilia feels a prick of something sharp enter his eyes.

It happens so fast, so swiftly, that had Lilia not been one of the fair folk, he likely would not have noticed it at all. If he were a human, for example, with their sluggish reflexes and oblivious tendencies, lacking a natural affinity for magic in comparison to the fae, Lilia would have chalked up the prick in his eye to a stray lash falling in, rubbing around until he feels as though he’s flicked it out before moving on with his day.

But Lilia is not human. He is fae.

He knows, at once, despite trying and failing to dig out whatever it is that has entered his eye, that it is not a stray lash or a speck of dust. There is a strange magic emanating off of the tiny sharp splinter, an aura he picks up on in an instant. It’s peculiar, the way it makes him shudder as he brushes against it, the sensation likened to the cold of a dead winter. It is unlike anything he has ever felt before.

But gradually, Lilia has to put a pause on his efforts. He is out on a journey to meet with humans for talks of peace, for their centuries-long wars are slowly crawling to an end. His soldiers look at him in concern, clicking their tongues as they ask him, “General, are you alright? Do we need to stop for a while?”

“I am fine,” Lilia says, waving his hand in dismissal. “I simply got something in my eye, is all.”

It is not wrong to say that, for it is not a lie at all. But Lilia knows as well as anyone else that the strange prick of magic infesting his eye warrants further inspection.

Later, he tells himself, as they continue on with their journey on horseback, for the stalemate in their war has allowed for easier travel through ways of steed.

Time ticks by, the lazy heat of summer dipping into the beginnings of a chilly autumn. But despite the changing seasons, the months that have passed since that fateful summer day, Lilia comes no closer to discovering what it is that ails him so deeply.

He is not oblivious to the changes occurring to him; quite the opposite, in fact. Lilia has carried about him a strange self-awareness about his shifting attitude, only realising the differences in how he’s been acting when he reflects on the changes in hindsight. He’s never exactly been the pinnacle of warmth, and especially not after his beloved friends died, but he’s always held a fondness in his heart for the few he opens up to — namely his second in command, Baul Zigvolt, and the young heir to the throne and son of his deceased friend, Malleus Draconia.

But now?

Lilia stifles a sigh as he reminisces, trudging through the gardens of the castle. The leaves are shifting to warm hues, leaves fluttering in shades of vermillion red and golden yellow, and the fallen leaves give a satisfying crunch when his boots stomp into them.

He exhales, twisting his lips as he raises his head up to the world around him. It looks as it always has, Lilia knows that well. And yet… something about it has felt different since that day.

Everything has begun to feel… boring. Banal and bland at best, wickedly ugly at worst. The crunch of the leaves irritates his ears, the drought of the autumn air makes his nose feel too sore. He turns his nose up at the food the castle staff serve, wrinkling his nose at the pungent smell of a dish he used to love, and he turns down whoever offers him a mug of beer, the foam that guzzles over the rim leaving his hands sticky and gross.

Lilia knows he’s changing. It’s not just his emotions, but also in the way he sees the world — everything is so intimately different in the worst way, and every waking hour he spends feels like a chore, an obligation he drags himself through. Where he used to spend time with Baul and his fellow men, or with Malleus most of all, being the one to raise him since he hatched, he now spends it all… alone.

But knowing something logically is different from knowing it emotionally. There are only so many apologies he can force out with his insincere tongue, schooling his expression into a facsimile of sincere regret. At the end of the day — of each day — Lilia truly feels nothing at all except the vacant void of a howling gelidity, frostbite nipping through his very veins.

At the very least, his men have respected this change, regardless of how perplexed they seem to be. Baul had pulled him aside once or twice to ask if he was feeling fine, but had he not been so preoccupied with his daughter’s sudden interest in the Valley’s newest dentist, a peculiar human who’d chosen to move here, of all places, he would have surely pressed the matter further.

On the other hand…

“Lilia!”

He sucks in a breath at the sound of that familiar voice. Once, it had lightened his heart to be greeted to such a cry upon returning to the castle from one of his many campaigns. But now?

“Hello, Malleus,” Lilia greets, making a deliberate effort to soften his voice as he turns to greet the young prince. Malleus has grown a great deal since he first hatched, now towering slightly above Lilia. Still, the boy has an inclination for continuing to call out to him childishly — something that had endeared Lilia in times past, but now only serves to irritate him by no fault of Malleus at all. “Is there something you require of me?”

“Not require, per se,” Malleus answers, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. He toys with the chain of his cloak with one hand. “I was merely hoping that you could spare the time to join me today for some tea. It has been quite a while, after all. I understand you’ve been busy as of late, but you do not appear to have anything on today, so I thought—”

“You’re rambling again.” Abruptly, Malleus’ mouth snaps shut. Lilia winces internally at his misstep; why had he interrupted the prince like that, in so cold a tone? He sighs. “Apologies. I have been under… a great deal of stress recently.”

“It is no matter, Lilia.”

Well that’s good, at least, Lilia thinks. Averting his gaze, he says, “Unfortunately, I do not believe I can join you today.”

A pause.

“Truly?” He hears it, the surprise in Malleus’ voice, mixing in with a forlorn misery. “I was certain that you had nothing to do today, given your schedule…”

“I—” Pressing his lips together, Lilia thinks before he says, rather stiffly, “It is true that I may not have anything on. But I would like some time to myself if you would be so kind, my prince.”

Ah, another slip up of his. To refer to Malleus by his title rather than his name… the gap between them only widens, and the only reason why Lilia worries about it is because he fears that he may go too far, say the wrong thing when it’s far too late to take anything back. But what’s done is done; Lilia raises his head in time to see Malleus recoil, hurt glimmering in those chartreuse eyes of his.

If Lilia stays longer… will he continue to mess up so miserably?

Before Malleus can speak, Lilia cuts in. “If there is nothing else that requires my attention,” he says, “I would like to return to my walk. Good day, Malleus. Give my regards to the queen.”

And, abruptly, he turns on his heels and leaves.

Oh, Lilia knows that Malleus is displeased. He knows it because, within mere moments, there is a gentle flutter of snow wafting down from the skies. He raises his head, blinking up at the fluttering snowflakes — so delicate and fragile, a byproduct of the prince’s tumultuous emotions, his magic far too powerful for him to properly handle when his emotions explode past his limits.

And yet, when he sets his eyes upon the swirling snow, Lilia feels…

Something.

He raises a hand, watching a snowflake land on his finger — so tiny, so delicate, an eight-pointed speck weaved into such an elegant pattern. It melts almost instantly against the warm flush of his skin — and yet, Lilia is transfixed, mouth parting slightly as he steps back, watching as the snow begins to flurry down faster and faster, cascading through the skies. How long has it been since he’d felt anything other than such apathy, such revulsion, such irritation and disgust? Now, Lilia only feels a sense of childlike wonder.

When was the last time he stopped to stare at the snow as it fell? He cannot remember. Has he ever stopped to observe it like this? Or had war stripped away such inconsequential pastimes from his life?

Lilia does not know how long he wanders around, watching the snowflakes dance until he goes numb, so numb with the cold. He only knows that his fingers are frozen and his lips are blue when he finally returns to the castle in a daze, barely cognisant of the way his entire body is battered, pushed past the natural limitations of his faerie strength.

Winter crashes into Briar Valley like an enemy ambush, a sudden attack spurned from the shadows of nothingness. It is the worst winter they have had in an eternity, everyone says, peering outside the frost-tinted windows as they bask within the toasty walls of the castle grounds; the fire-spells keep everyone warm for as long as they stay inside.

With the thick layers of snow barring any method of safe travel, the ongoing talks of their peace treaties with the humans have been temporarily suspended — more for the children of men’s sakes than that of the fae. If she so willed it, Queen Maleficia could wash away the snow with a flick of her wrist, but such matters, in her opinion, are trivial; nature is not something to be fixed at an instant, so why should she expend her energy for such things?

So during those days, cooped up within the castle walls with little to do, Lilia winds up lounging in the cushioned nook of a window, a little alcove tucked away in a winding tower towards the murky corners of the castle. Few fae ever roam here, save for a scant few servants pattering about cleaning the dusty hallways, and Lilia spends many languid hours with his head pressed against the cool glass, so intensely transfixed on the dancing snowflakes outside.

They are beautiful. Perhaps they are the last bits of perfection he shall ever witness in his life.

He has found no information about the shard that pricked his eye, nor has he found any sort of cure. Lilia has spent many a month searching, sifting through the treasure trove of books in the castle’s library to no avail. He had, at one point, considered going to the queen and telling her of his predicament — “In the month of summer, I believe a magical spell of some kind has afflicted my eye.” — but his own apathy stops him every time; there is simply no point in dragging others into this matter, not because Lilia does not wish to trouble them, but because, try as he might, the larger part of him just doesn’t care.

So, with his head pressed against the cold glass, Lilia closes his eyes and sighs.

The winter solstice is approaching, the longest night of the year. As nocturnal fae, creatures of the night, it is a joyous cause for celebration for their kind. Despite the blizzard that rages across the Valley night and day, many servants, guardsmen, people of their kingdom have been looking forward to the events; the castle town shall be open to all, shielded from the elements. All fae, young and old, can look forward to a night of dancing and festivities, dining on the finest food at the banquets, and celebrating the longevity of the night.

In years past, Lilia would have looked forward to it. But now, like everything else in his life, he feels nothing at all.

“Lilia? Are you here?”

He stifles a groan at the sound of Malleus’ voice. Again and again, the boy continues to scour for him, to seek him out and spend time with him. Lilia tries to indulge him, he really does! But each occasion spent together, needing to force himself to fake sincerity the whole way through — “Oh yes, Malleus, I would like to try the new blend of tea! Thank you kindly for the offer. How is your grandmother doing? I heard she has spent some time with you as of late—”

He can’t stand it. He can’t. It gets harder and harder with each passing day, the chill that permeates his skin sinking deeper and deeper, turning his heart into one carved of ice. His eye prickles with pain whenever he grits his teeth in a false smile; across the table from him, the young prince looks detestable, a selfish beast with far too much time, uncaring of what his servants are subjected to in their indulgence of him.

So he avoids him. As soon as Lilia hears him, he flicks his wrist, a swell of magic surrounding him. Bat-formed, Lilia takes to the rafters, huddling away in the corners of the ceiling as he listens to Malleus come and go. It is only when he hears that familiar voice fading away that he dares to leave, flapping his little wings as he makes a break for another isolated corner of the labyrinthian castle.

The day of the winter solstice arrives, and with it comes the worst blizzard the valley has ever seen.

Cold winds lash against the fortifications of the castle, howling and rattling. Snow crashes from the sky, piling higher and higher upon the dead ground. And yet the castle is alight with the buzz of festivities — the many servants bustle about, wrapping up the last of their preparations, ensuring the banquet is ready with food for all, that the decor floats about in place, that the spells wrapping the castle and its town in a bubble of warmth remain solidly intact.

Throughout the day, Lilia sticks to the shadows, hovering out of sight. Today he feels… he doesn’t know how to describe it. Cold and dead as usual, his heart no longer the warm, affectionate thing it was before — but beneath the thick layers of apathy, there is something nestled beneath: the barest twitch of a muscle, a flutter of something. Lilia finds himself distracted with it the entire day as he meanders about, waiting for the clock to tick to a point when the festivities can start.

And when they do begin, the many residents of the valley teleporting into the castle en masse… Oh, how does Lilia even begin to describe them? Laughter rings freely, the merry melody of music from a string band sweeping the air as dancers circle across the floor. Wine glasses clink as people toast to prosperity and magic, hoping to see the weather ease up soon, and even the queen herself is out and about, walking amidst the crowd, a smile on her face as she mingles with the few faeries bold enough to approach her.

But Lilia—

He feels nothing watching all this. Nothing at all.

And yet… there is something else. That peculiar emotion buried underneath… it sings to him, calls to him, as though someone’s voice were tugging at a string. It only strengthens as the night goes on, likened to an unbearable itch; it is the first blissful thing he has felt in what feels like an eternity, and Lilia—

He misses it. He misses being able to love, to feel something other than apathy at best, and all these horrible, miserable emotions at worst — a repugnance, a rage, an irascibility that sparks every time someone tries to converse with him. Lilia misses being able to love freely, his heart softening as he grows older, brought on by the loss he’s experienced, and the love he mustered up to be able to raise Malleus into the man he is today.

So who can blame him for slipping off, for finding a way out of the castle grounds? Lilia answers the call, sneaking past guards who are far too drunk on wine, laughing and shouting as they play games at their stations. He does not bother with whisking up thick clothes for himself; Lilia merely plunges into the blizzard, battered at once by shrieking winds and a pelting of snow against his face, of a storm so deadly chilling that it would ravage even the strongest of faes.

And yet, he does not feel cold.

He grits his teeth as he presses on, dragging his legs through the thick boughs of snow. Lilia knows not how long it takes for him to trudge, only that it feels like forever — but he knows he is getting somewhere, because with each step he takes, the tugging in his chest grows and grows, the intensity of the emotion exciting him for the first time in months.

Is this the answer to his ailment?

Is there a cure tucked within the heart of the storm?

Lilia takes one step, and then another. He takes a third, and—

All at once, everything stops.

The wind dies away. The blizzard softens to a gentle snowfall. Little flakes of snow dance through the air as Lilia walks forward, head turning to and fro. How peculiar this is! He raises a hand, watching a flake fall into the open palm of his hand and rest there, and it is only the sound of hooves clumping against snow that snaps him out of his reverie.

Lilia turns his head, and sees a child.

A boy, who gazes at him with wide eyes that reflect the northern lights — auroras of shifting veins tinted shades of pink, purple, and blue, lights that Lilia has only gotten the chance to see once during a journey across the world. His hair sweeps across his forehead, locks of the purest silver as though spun from the nighttime stars, streaked with white like the pristine paleness of snow. He sits on a white stag, ice-spun crystals hanging from its glacial antlers, and around him is a fur-lined cloak and hood that swallows him whole, far too big for his tiny body.

Lilia’s breathing hitches—

Because the boy before him is the most beautiful thing he has seen in a long time.

“Hello,” the boy says after a while, a glimmering curiosity in those wide eyes of his. His mount trots forward, bringing him closer. “I’ve never seen you before,” he says, looking at Lilia closely.

At that, Lilia laughs. “I could say the same to you, little one.” He rests a hand on his hips, relishing in the joy, the curiosity, the emotions that flood him in full force; it has been so long! “It is a rare sight to see a young boy riding a stag in a storm like this.”

The boy’s face falls, and Lilia feels… worried. Did he upset him somehow? “I’ve been trying to stop the storm for a while now,” the boy explains, auroral eyes flicking to the storm that rages outside the bubble they’re within, continuing to ravage the valley to no end. “B-but it’s my first time really trying such a thing, and I don’t… really know how.”

Ah, Lilia thinks, finally coming to understand. A lost child. A boy with power over the very elements itself, who can control the season of cold and snow. And yet, who would place such responsibility upon a child, one so very young? He feels the fervent urge to lean in and coddle him, to reassure him that it’s alright, you’re trying your very best, I can help you if you just let me.

And why shouldn’t he do such a thing?

“I can help you, if you would like.”

In a flash, those pupils lock on him. “Would you?” the boy breathes. “I-I wouldn’t want to trouble you, mister—”

“It’s no trouble at all!” Lilia insists, stepping forward with a beaming smile on his face. He reaches out for the stag, feeling the beast nuzzle against the palm of his hand as he strokes it gently. Why should he return to the castle, to that unyielding, endless void of apathy and misery? Here, with the boy with eyes like the auroras and hair like the stars, Lilia feels something — the warm glow of parental affection, already growing so attached to such a young child.

“Then…” the boy mumbles, “would you come with me?”

Lilia only smiles. “Of course.”

And as he clambers onto the back of the steed, he asks, before they leave, one final question: “Pray tell, little one, what is your name?”

“My name?” the boy echoes, furrowing his brows. “I… I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

Lilia arches an eyebrow. What kind of a lonely life must this boy live, if he has not even considered his lack of a name? “Then would you mind if I gave you one?” he offers. Oh, it is such an incredibly forward move to suggest such a thing, with how important names are to his kind. But already, he is attached, his very soul bound to this child who gazes at him in wonder at the possibility of wielding his own name.

And the boy nods.

“Silver,” Lilia says, the name coming to him at once. Like the shine of the gleaming moon, the glitter of the stars, the wispy fall of the snow around them. Love blooms in his chest, the warmth cradling his very soul; Lilia curls his arms around the boy, his body so cold even through the chilling fabric of his cloak, pulling him against his chest into a hug. “That shall be your name.”

“Silver,” the boy echoes, testing it out on his tongue. He tilts his head back, a small smile gracing his rounded cheeks as he looks up at Lilia. “Thank you, mister. Could I ask what your name is?”

“It is Lilia, dear one,” he croons, relinquishing his name without a second thought. The two of them are bonded in mere moments, Lilia filled with a fulfilment he has not felt since that prick of a shard entered his eye.

There is nothing left for him here. That is what he tells himself as Silver leads them away, commanding his steed to take off into a prancing gallop, bursting from the tranquil heart of the storm into the raging blizzard, whisking them back to their home.

(Lilia fails to notice the figure that bursts through the clearing, chartreuse eyes widening in horror as a mouth parts to scream his name. He does not notice the horned boy who shivers in the cold, eyes wide as the wind whips at his long hair, watching the stag prance away, the boy who leads it ripping his guardian away from his grasp.)

[neopianbiologyproject]

Neopian Apples Part 2A: Apple Cultivars

[ Part 1 ] [-> Part 2A <-] [ Part 2B ] [Part 3 (coming soon)]

An important consideration here is which apples are other apples and which apples are new apples. That is, which apples are genetically or otherwise distinct enough to be new species and which are "just apples," i.e. non-distinct variants of existing species.

In Earth biology, I'm pretty sure a "cultivar" is considered a variant of a species and there's a whole lot going on with genetic variation and cross-breeding of subspecies and so on. It also tends to refer to intentionally or artificially cultivated variants, which in our case would qualify the candidate as Constructa and remove it from taxonomic considerations.

But, it's a useful term for getting one's mind to the right place: a descendant sub-type of an ancestor plant that is consistently observable but distinct from other descendant sub-types of that plant. It also has a connotation needing special conditions to occur.

So I find it useful to use here in place of "a relatively rare, but consistently observable, genetically distinct plant deriving from (and colloquially referred to as) the common apple" especially when we do not have access to genetic testing. That is, n.b. when I say "cultivar" regarding a Neopian species, it is still possible for that species to be naturally occurring and taxonomically distinct from the ancestor species, where the typical use of "cultivar" on Earth might not allow for this meaning.

I'll try to avoid it where the distinction is especially important and clarify whether a candidate qualifies as a new species or not.

Above are the easiest-to-determine "new apples"; they are visually unique, are naturally occurring outside of Neopian/human influence, and tend to have unique traits, without veering into being entirely new fruits.

In addition to standing out to me on my first scan of the apple candidates, it's helpful to separate out these apples before diving into the others, as these will be the apples we will compare future apples to when determining the (dis)similarity of other apples.

These are:

Apple Apple

Bell Apple - "This watery apple is named not only for its shape, but also for the peculiar ringing sound that it emits when picked."

Blue Berry Apple*

Cactus Apple - "Its-- ouch! Well-- ouch! ... Ouch, just ouch."

Cherry Apple*

Cloud Shoyru Apple - See Part 2B

Dappled Apple

Dopple Dapple Apple - See Part 2B

Electric Apple

Fire Apple

Green Apple - Fun fact, this is the first apple item ever released on Neopets, and the first item in the entire Jellyneo item database, with a DBID of 1.

Jumble Apple*

Melon Berry Apple*

Muntando Apple*

Mutant Apple - See Part 2B

Pine Apple*

Rainbow Apple - See Part 2B

Red Apple

Speckled Apple - See Part 2B

White Apple

Yellow Apple

Unmarked candidates are kinda based on vibes, but I do think they're each apples, don't overlap with other cultivars, and are organically occurring/non-Constructa. None of these apples have any indication of being painted to look the way they do, either, which is not the case for later candidates. And also I don't have much to say about them.

As always, I am happy to take review and provide evidence if anyone disagrees.

As for the others...

Fruit Apples

Apples marked with an asterisk (*) are what I'd call "fruit apples." They are apples that are commonly recognized to resemble and share qualities with other fruits, and have been named as such. Unlike in Part 1, however, these fruits are apples, not simply named for them.

The Blue Berry Apple, Cherry Apple, Jumble Apple, Melon Berry Apple, Muntando Apple, and Pine Apple are all named for other fruits; these are the Earth-similar blueberry, cherry, and pineapple, and the Neopia-unique Jumbleberry, Melonberry, and Muntando Fruit.

Some of these apples express confusion about their origins in their description:

Blue Berry Apple Blueberry! Apple! No, blueberry! No, apple!

Cherry Apple These cherries taste like apples. I mean these apples taste like cherries.

Jumble Apple Has this been splashed with paint?

While the Muntando Apple is very confident about not being a Muntando fruit:

Muntando Apple Perfect substitute for the Muntando Fruit. And easily available too.

However, none of them definitively refer to themselves as the non-apple fruit.

With this, and a familiarity with Neopets item naming conventions (it almost always goes [unique descriptor][noun]) I think we can be pretty confident that these are, in fact, apples. It also stands out to me that the apple variants tend to split compound fruit names, as in blue-[space]-berry and pine-[space]-apple.

One thing you may notice, however, is that the Melon Berry Apple... doesn't look like a Melonberry. And I honestly don't know why this is! Their descriptions don't overlap, and the only other Melonberry/Melon Berry item in the database is a smoothie that seems to be flavored with melons and berries. This doesn't really impact our determinations, but stands out to me as strange. Maybe they're completely unrelated? Or is there a hidden Melon Berry that the Melon Berry Apple was named for?

This post is getting long and I need a break, but this is a pretty good stopping point? So we'll attend to the rest of the apple cultivars in

Part 2B: Notable apple cultivars ->

[aisling-saoirse]

Plant Profile: American Witch Hazel - Hamamelis virginiana

Today's plant is better known for its use as a facial toner but this year I've witnessed a mass-bloom (the yellow dots in the image above) so I want to re-introduce you my ultimate late fall favorite!

Witch-Hazel refers to members of the Hamamelis family, containing about five species, 3 of which are found in the eastern US and the other two in Asia. Our species of focus is the American Witch Hazel, a wide growing, often dominate understory shrub/tree common throughout forests of the American East. The plant has a lovely arching growth habit (Image 2 above), alongside trails in older-growth tall mountain forests, one always can spot witch hazel by a tunnel effect along the trails framed by its branches.

For a quick technical analysis, Witch Hazel has oval alternate leaves that are asymmetrical and have rounded lobes along the sides (image 3 of pressed leaf). The bark is a grey or reddish brown with small lenticels (image 4 of 'trunk') and typically grows in clusters sprouting from deep roots. Typically the plant reaches about 20' in height and 20' in width, as I usually only see specimens this large in very old portions of woodland my assumption is that it takes many decades to achieve this stature.

The flowers themselves are divided into 4 portions with yellow ribbon-like petals present from October-December (image 5, 6, 9). The flowers are extremely fragrant in wet weather and mornings, the scent usually fades in drier conditions. Flowers lose their ribbons and recede into this hardened portion connected to the stem called a calyx (it looks like a rounded pod which can have about 4 seeds in it). The seeds actually shoot out of this pod as a dispersal method around the next fall.

I brought up flowering because like many species in the northeast, there is never a consistent year for these things, while I see witch-hazel flowers every year I don't encounter blooms prolifically unless it's exposed to a lot of sun light. From my experience, a mass-bloom (in which every tree has noticeable blooms like image 1) occurs every 5 years about, I've noticed this in my forest since childhood but others may have more frequent encounters than me.

American Witch Hazel has a large range and is found throughout the Eastern US. The Northern limit of its range is Nova Scotia to Wisconsin staying mostly east of the Mississippi River south until its South Western Limit in East Texas and Northern Florida to the East. Allegedly disjunct populations also exist in Lost Maples Texas and the Eastern Sierra Madres of Mexico but those are fairly isolated from the main range.

There are two other Hamamelis species located within the same range. H. vernalis: Ozark Witch-hazel, which is a common horticultural specimen due to its reddish yellow blooms coming out just before spring and is naturally restricted to the Ozarks. H. ovalis: big leaf witch-hazel is a new species discovered in 2004, found only in one watershed in Mississippi and Alabama; this species has much larger leaves and red mid-winter blooms. Most people are unlikely to encounter these in the wild at all.

Hamamelis virginiana can grow in both acidic and alkaline conditions, though I tend to find the densest populations on protected north facing slopes in mature forests near where water travels. I've also found it on pure rock on mountain top balds in New York before (image 7 above). This is because in the North, American Witch Hazel isn't as limited in habitat as in the Southern portion of it's range where it's generally restricted to only cove forests and bottom lands. generally there is an association with the Witch Hazel and decent moisture.

Speaking of moisture, Early English settlers (shown by Native Americans) used witch hazel branches as dowsing rod to find underground water sources. Sticking branches in the ground, and watching which portion bent upon encountering streams. It's likely the name 'Witch' in Witch Hazel derives either from Middle English 'Wiche' for 'lively' or Anglo-Saxon 'Wych' for 'bend' describing this use. [Info from US Forest Service].

Witch Hazel is also a protector of the forest following disturbance. In a Canadian Journal of Forest Research Study by Taylor Benton, analysis found that where large scale canopy loss was present H. virginiana was found to increase it's basal area growth (think spread) by over 300%. This indicates that in the presence increased light and nitrogen, the dominate understory species are able to protect seedlings by increasing canopy shade!

In my own forest I've noticed this where Ash has died back, the Witch Hazel flowers more prolifically and frequently as well as becoming denser (Image 8 Witch-hazel in flower above a stream)

Now what are the ecological relationships associated with American Witch Hazel? This species specifically provides one of the last insect oriented pollen sources prior to winter (other witch-hazel species often bloom in early spring), so species like the owlet moth which are active in winter, and late season bees get a food source from it. The leaves are occasionally predated by a gall wasp which forms many odd tents on the leaf in favorable conditions.

Propagating Witch-hazel for those crazy like me should be aware it is not an easy plant to start. The seeds require a period of moist cold stratification, then warm, then another cold (think 90 days of fridge, 90 days in warmth, 90 days in fridge) then it'll begin to germinate. If you have a full specimen you can attempt layering (which is covering a low branch in soil allowing it to root). You can take softwood cuttings in spring but they have to be kept frost free the next winter.

Finally Landscaping advice! Witch-Hazel is best utilized in partially shaded non-south facing or moist areas in partial sun. While it loves total shade in its natural environment it really preforms much better in a garden with some sunlight. American Witch-Hazel also is a better performer in the scent category rather than a showy floral display, most horticultural specimens are derived from hybrids between Chinese, Japanese, or Ozark Witch-hazel (image 10 of possible H. vernalis cultivar above) as their coloring is much more interesting compared to our local powerhouse. However it must be said that American Witch-hazel is resilient and has some flower color variation (oranges and pinks) which are absent in other species.

So this has been my plant profile on American Witch-Hazel, please go into the woods and smell the haunting yellow blooms while the mass-bloom is still occurring. Happy Hunting to my Eastern American followers :)!

[petite-guignol]

bringing this over from twitter because nobody is reading twitter anymore lmfao and i figure the long version is more likely to be interesting to people here

(the OP is responding to some film account's description of something in an upcoming Avatar movie, not that it really matters but that's the context in case anyone was curious)

putting this under a cut because, as is apparently customary for me, the long version is like. really long.

the elemental theming for different nations in FF4 is not very strong and we do not see much of Damcyan anyway but i do think it has a pretty interesting angle on what a "fire kingdom" looks like

the crystals mostly serve as a metaphor for stewardship of the land and the people on it. the earth crystal in Troia is probably the most on the nose about it but that's kind of my read on the whole deal. various fantasy settings, particularly video games, have had different variations of what a "fire landscape" looks like, and a lot of times its inhospitable. (FF5 always makes me laugh here because Karnak, the fire crystal city in that game, just has literal open flames straight up raging in the streets, presumably all the time. the people there are actually distressed when the fires go out. but i digress) Damcyan is a desert, which is kind of a harsh environment comparatively but both naturally occurring and perfectly habitable, a place one ought to care for and not just a big empty wasteland.

Besides being situated in the middle of a hot, bright environment there's a vague aesthetic connection to fire. edward dresses in bright red and gold, with anna in a yellow dress and sometimes bright red hair. the DS version puts sunbursts on the castle walls and a lit candle on their flag, and maybe this is just me overthinking it (this whole thing is tbh) but the SFC version of Damcyan castle features these weird clusters of extremely tall towers that almost resemble smoke stacks or something. at any rate Damcyan is at least slightly more clearly "fire themed" than Fabul is "air themed", for example.

the elemental connection is again mainly metaphorical, in the associations people have made with the classical elements. water is knowledge, air is discipline, earth is abundance, and so on, which means Damcyan is indeed supposed to have the figurative qualities of fire

which are...

well, again we don't see much of Damcyan. in-game, their prince is a bard (and in the DS version they also have a lyre on their flag). they have soldiers but are clearly not intended to be read as militaristic in any way. the castle has a dungeon, which is full of treasure chests largely containing hats. it has the first healing pots you'll come across in the game. it's the only country on the surface besides Baron that seems to have anything approaching modern tech, and its a civilian vehicle that helps you get across the desert. the area's signature boss monster produces a healing item and is supposed to be docile despite its terrifying appearance.

Edward himself is primarily known for his beautiful voice and is a healer, mechanically speaking. the first thing we learn about him is that he eloped with his lover against her father's wishes, and while the game on its own doesn't really give any context for his apparent habit of wandering around in disguise, it's very easy to read his behavior as impulsive. he's extremely emotional, to the extent that it actually bleeds into the battle system. so he's "fiery", in a sense -- seemingly always in the throes of some volatile emotion or other -- but in a way that's essentially the opposite of aggressive

the primary quality of fire here, i think, is compassion -- warmth and light, music and love and healing. it's a harsh world out there, but here in the firelight even the monsters are tame

plus, a little bit of "hey, can't you use fire to do metal smithing? what about a combustion engine? wouldn't that make you like, fabulously wealthy?" thrown in there for spice i guess

(actually, if you want to combine poet-kings, the vague tech-y overtones of the place -- including Edward functioning as a sort of proto-Chemist -- and the guidebook stuff about Damcyan having gotten extremely rich off trading and idk Rubicante, you could probably make a good argument that "fire" also serves as a general emblem for "civilization," but that's neither here nor there and this post is already long as fuck)

[zoomzooml]

[Worldbuilding] Protoforms and sparklings - basics.

Apologies for any translation errors. I'm doing my best to avoid them, but due to the fact that I'm a sleep-deprived human disaster they can still occur. Sorry!

PROTOFORMS

How are they created?

[Text under picture]

Vector Sigma in the depths of the planet creates a new Protoform and gives it a spark. The protoform is a primitive mechanism, resembling a mechanical larva, whose main purpose is to protect the spark during its first period of life.

The protoform digs its way to the surface. The tunnels they leave behind are barrenly small and usually collapse back quickly.

The protoform, after getting to the surface, leaves the underside in the soil, sticks to its place, and grows "roots" that will take up minerals and resources needed to build the actual organism.

The armor becomes a cocoon that grows as the organism inside grows and develops. As the mechanisms and organs of the body become more advanced, it begins to be called Sparkling.

The protoform can also build a cocoon on vertical walls; extremely rarely and only under exceptional conditions on the ceiling.

A fully built sparkling hatches from a cocoon. It is already at its maximum size (not including artificial expansions, rebuilds or upgrades) and has a full range of natural and instinctive abilities, such as transformation or movement.

Medical units with appropriate training perform hygiene and initial examinations and clean up the cocoon's shell, which will later be recycled.

It's worth noting that there were places on Cybertron where emerging organisms were a large percentage of the whole lot. Maturation Centers* were placed there. They were in charge of taking care of the sparklings in the first months of life to detect developmental anomalies, censusing the hatchlings, bringing them into the system and giving them identification (usually numerical), and looking for suitable places to send the young ones, which would provide further care and upbringing.

[*Maturing in terms of physical independence and presence in the census and institute’s system.]

Cursory information about cocoons and protoforms.

TAKING CARE OF THE COCOON

If the cocoon nests in an unsafe place, with nutrient deficiencies in the soil or simply threatening to be trampled, the cocoon should be moved. The first choice should be to transplant to a relatively better, safer place.

However, if the cocoon shows signs of disease it should be quarantined. If it shows difficulty in extracting materials from the soil, it may be necessary to place it in an incubator.

A malnourished or diseased cocoon can be recognized by a dull color of the armor, slowing or stopping of growth or discoloration. The shade of the armor may go gray and/or become covered with pinkish or yellowish spots. The armor may weaken and delaminate, and the roots may wither. The body proper of the protoform (the blob inside armor) also becomes discolored, grayed or yellowed.

If the cocoon is not threatened by anything, it should be left alone, being checked from time to time.

SPARKLINGS

After hatching, sparklings are noted for their many colors, which are usually pastel or near-pastel. As they age, the colors mostly dim or are covered with another color of choice, for aesthetic, cultural or regulatory reasons.

Individuals with several colors appear, usually in ombre-like form. However, they are rare.

The colors of protoformal tissue, like the face, can range in grays (also called blues), reds or, in rare cases, golds.

Probable colors of optics can be found almost anywhere on the color wheel, usually in bright and light shades.

Behaviorism

Young sparklings precociously observe and analyze. They will stay still observing surroundings. At the beginning many of them will not show emotion with their body, face or voice, most likely because they are not yet familiar with function of this and action. If the phenomenon they are interested in moves, they will follow it with their gaze, but they will not move their head unless absolutely necessary. Their staring may be repulsive to some. Learning about the environment seems to take priority over learning about the extent of their own body and capabilities.

Sparklings have full control over their body, but as some actions are instinctive and already coded others must be learned.

When this perennially quiet period of their lives is over the so-called period of heightened activity usually begin, in varying intensity. Now that they've learned the basics from observance it's time for experimentation, experience and exploration, which usually manifests itself in sticking their noses where they shouldn't, touching what they shouldn't, dropping and throwing objects, entering strange, theoretically inaccessible spaces and the like.

For the young, vocalization is rarely the first choice for communication. Rather, they rely on the simple language of the electromagnetic field for their initial period of life, sometimes reaching far into the period of heightened activity. This contains the means for very simple communication and is often supported by body language.

Already at the moment of hatching, the Transformer has information about its alt-mode and the ability to transform. In most cases, it will use this only after it enters a period of heightened activity. The alt-mode information is one of the primal codes, analysis of them is one of the evidences of the evolution of Transformers.

UPBRINGING

The vast majority of offspring are raised in the brood, and raising them is a communal task. Typically, multiple caretakers take turns caring for them, sometimes fulfilling different upbringing functions. If a sparkling manifests unusual talent in a certain field, it may receive individual upbringing by a specialist(s) in that field. [An extension to the topic is planned.]

FROM ME

The colors of these scribbles are completely different on the laptop and on the phone, so I don't know if they are as I think they are. Sorry if I accidentally hurted anyone's eyes lol