hevrtbrexkqueen - Tumblr blog

[hevrtbrexkqueen]

Pixie nodded deftly, albeit dubious that they could offer a wealth of easing tensions or providing the distraction of entertainment — they had lived through the long version of the nightmare Nari was enduring. Watching others chaw on what they had to gnash through chains and scorn the earth was... helpless. Being on the other side of the looking glass, they felt small. "Well, that's stupid of him," she answered sharply, looking up from the magazine, "Sounds like something you'd sue for since it's not your fault you're being tailed by some creep." Silencing her own chagrin to mull the events, she tilted her head. "Did you, like, meet anyone you've been seeing around a lot?" Then, their fingernails drummed against the lacquer of the printed pages, clucking their tongue. "Good move. You might as well eat unemployment benefits if you're getting booted."

"That would actually be great... thanks," she replied with a soft smile. The thought of returning to her apartment alone didn't sit well with her. "Nik has basically banned me from the creamery, so I won't be working there anymore," she explained, feeling uneasy as she fiddled with the hem of her sweater. "I also haven't gone on any dates, so I don't know what that's about, or how someone even got into my locker," she added. "I'll have to think about it. I might just stay unemployed for a bit."

[hevrtbrexkqueen]

Pixie wasn't as good at the card games as Freya was, a lifelong deadbeat father under her belt — she'd learned to read people's tells during her time running her treadmill, so to speak, sure, but counting them? She wasn't discrete. Blowing her own cover shouldn't have forfeited every vapid smoke-on-mirrors at her disposal, by all means. They were a tempestuous player, at best, and if they were inclined to a poor stroke of luck throughout the evening, they would spend it with steam curling out of their ears. Tonight was one of those nights, and the goddess of fortuity didn't smile on them — actually, she turned around and took a big shit on the whole thing when their face upturned to take in the sight of their arch nemesis.

Great.

"What lesson?" they feigned ignorance with a sneer, folding their cards and gracing their tablemates with a tight-lipped smile as they turned away, "The one where you make empty threats and don't blow the whistle on security to drag this bitch out?" Pixie didn't mind going toe-to-toe against behemoths; they replaced the inner workings of their backbone with titanium to pull punches against the ones that bound them. Now would be no different — it was when their roommate's safety came into question that there would root a desiccation to their soil.

Laconic, they stood up from their chair, self-aware of the publicity of their surroundings to tuck their hands into their pockets. The pink-haired curmudgeon lifted their chin, valiantly facing the ambit of their side gig, as loosely and callow as it could be interpreted. "What do you want?"

NOWHERE TO GO. ✦⠀﹕⠀joker’s casino. ft.⠀›⠀@hevrtbrexkqueen.

there are numerous people that come and go within the bounds of the joker’s casino. but no—one lingers for more than they need to, lest all the money hoarded in their possession be ripped away from their very eyes in a single game or two. neither does anyone willingly wish to stick around with someone like taeyoung yoon on duty as the poker dealer. almost discerned as the bane of existences, those who come across the trump card walk out the door more times than not, with heads hanging or a dent in their ego that will never be fixed.

₍ it is one of those days──or may end up being one of those days. ₎ silence shrouds the atmosphere, deafening as it embraces the figure seated in front of a table, flipping a poker—chip in repeat cycles between fingers. boredom. one of the things that make him feel on—edge, violence scraping at bones. the plastic of coin snaps in half the same minute that ears twitch, familiar footsteps approaching ringing.

ajax doesn’t need to look to know who it is, sauntering her way to where he is, doesn’t bother with acknowledging their presence in a way that matters; tilting cranium for a split—second before gaze reverts onto the broken pieces of the token in grasp. ❛ thought you’d have learned your lesson from last time by now. ❜

[hevrtbrexkqueen]

@stcrmyeyes at the carnival of time, early september

"I'm not really great at all of these games, but my friend showed me how to play them a while back. Maybe if we're lucky, I can win you a prize or something." Oh, god, that sounded fucking lame as soon as it left their mouth — embarrassing. They might as well design their own exequy before they considered flirting again. ( Being held at metaphorical gunpoint to perform like a circus animal didn't develop a charisma they could tap into outside of fight-or-flight situations. Plus, it was different with girls... they used their logical brains a little more, and Mei-xie wouldn't call themselves a poet. ) Unscrambling their brain from the redundancy of their own thoughts, they picked up a ball and eyed the stack of bottles that was laid out across the counter, and glanced to the row of stuffed animals hugging onto the rafters above their heads. "So, one game, I'll try to win you one of these and we can, like... go have cotton candy? I saw you eyeing the stands on the way here. Or whatever you want. I mean, I should make it worth your while if you're dragging the town party pooper along with."

Actually, now that they thought about it, it was lost on them who had suggested the outing first. Mei-xie's stipulations were the same as always: home and in bed by ten PM, no alcohol, and no weirdos. Neither of them fit the cookie-cutter definition of extroversion, though Pixie wore those colors in loud vernacular working the games at Peppy Parrot's Emporium — you'd think that would have blessed them with an eye for rigged carnival games like these, and you'd be sorely mistaken. At least they knew it couldn't go worse than Ash chucking the ball, and the ball doing a one-hundred-eighty back around and smacking him in the middle of the forehead. If that happened to them, they better be knocked the fuck out.

Inexplicably, she was impelled to reach for Samantha's hand. "Do you want to try with my last shot? I'll score the points and you can try to hit a home runner," she said, as she reeled her arm back and threw the first one. It knocked over one of the bottles with green tape around the neck, sending it smashing to the floor. She didn't envy the attending to this game, like her own station at the kids' funhouse for greasy, revolting pizza. "Little prize in the bag! What did I tell you?" she exhorted with a fist pump in the air before she snatched up the second ball, tossing it up and down in her hand, veiling her nerves with an air of confidence that one must to endure the wrath of krakens and pirates. "What am I going for — that Pikachu up there? What's your taste?"

[hevrtbrexkqueen]

Pixie lifted her chin, a glyptic glance around the room ensnaring its participants in the web of their coarse analytics. A hand hovered mid-air, nonchalant by design, as she guessed, "So, maybe half the town's drinking lead and given themselves lead poisoning? You ever thought of that? It lowers your IQ the same way fucking carbon monoxide would." Thankfully, she hadn't endured the nonsense of a New Year's party — really, she didn't get the hubbub around grabbing someone and kissing them when the ball dropped. Wasn't that subjective, if insulting to the rest of those who didn't get a kiss hung out to dry? Ugh, why did they even care? Every single breath they took without the permission of those who wanted to crush their future into a fine powder to sprinkle on top of someone else's should be all the boost to their self-esteem they needed. Throwing romance into the mix of it all was a bad fucking idea, like cucumbers and yogurt. "You know these people they're looking to help that went missing are probably like, the conventionally perfect ones, right? Or the rich ones? Nobody gives a fuck if you're poor and you know, not looking at a future career in being a model or a cancer-curing doctor, or something." Pixie had avoided social medias entirely, but from her weak handle on the meaning of an algorithm, it was for the best she and everyone else couldn't have that hanging over their heads anymore. ( It was nice to know that someone couldn't google their name at all and see them pop up on a search. Look for their face among the crowd and imagine the person they were now. One person could get it right, and they'd be right back in some dungeon. )

Guess I'm the kid of an Adisorn so I kinda get it. Their cheeks ballooned up at a poorly attempt to stifle their giggling, casting a side-eye at him and holding a hand over their mouth when a couple turned to look at them peculiarly. "Just — the way you said that sounded so fucked up," apparently, they could find common ground in being fucked up, "Look, I don't know why some of these... people act like Alaska's so fucking different from everywhere else. I disappeared from fucking Canada and you know who got me out of my deep shit? Me." A thumb jutted toward their own collarbone, expression souring as their eyes darkened. ( This was not entirely true — someone back in Prison Valley had helped them out of that hell, kept them on the lay-low and transported them to the shelter they'd reunited with Mei at. ) Reclining in the hard-backed chair, they kicked their Demonias up onto the table, disturbing the other guest ( this was met with a disdainful scowl as they quickly got up and left. ) "He probably fucked off like every other dad out there does," she added with her lips twisted in a grim frown, "That's shitty, though. Dead mom?" Did it matter? Evidently, she wasn't in the picture to put band-aids over his wounds and tell him to go to school. Now, they were as good as the town's scourge, The Bastards. Tugging the napkin closer to them, they regarded Ash with an unreasonable gaze as he proposed an offer most would find irresistible. "What, like, a suicide pact except it's if the other person goes missing?" Their forehead wrinkled as it sunk under their dermis. There was an unfamiliar feeling in their chest. It gripped and tugged, and it wasn't pleasant nor painful. "Only if you promise to pull off the big waterworks about it and don't portray me as a fucking nice girl, or whatever. I think charities are a big money laundering scam, and I'd make sure to come back to punch you in the mouth for it." ( Okay, so Pixie was still working on her hospitality. ) Tentatively, their arm dismounted from the back of the chair and they stuck it across the table, meeting him halfway.

Ash let out a laugh, short and sharp but terribly half-hearted -- not unlike Ash himself, really -- and leant back with his hands behind his head. On the face of it, his whole situation was far from funny, not at all worth laughing at, but hearing someone say so boldly the exact shit he'd struggled to put into words himself was... well, words like pleasant and refreshing didn't feel appropriate, not when the fate of the victim, for whom this benefit had been hosted, was still very much unknown. At the very least though, the jaded cynic in him found a certain humour in the presence of a kindred spirit. Or something like that. “Forget about it?” he mused, cocking his head to one side, eyebrows raised. “Y'mean like how half the town swore offa' big parties after New Year's and Halloween, only to host another one the second someone else went missing?” Maybe it was a stretch to call this a party but close enough was close enough, right? And the irony of it all certainly wasn't lost on him-- why was it that, just a year ago, people were coming out in their dozens to help search for some stranger from out of town and now, suddenly, they needed an excuse to donate anything? He supposed the injuries some of the volunteers endured probably hadn't encouraged a second run, nor had the increasingly bizarre rumours regarding poor old Adisorn's supposed demise, but, ultimately, it was hard to complain too much when he wasn't exactly chomping at the bit to help himself. “But what do I know? Maybe there really isn't anything that says 'Hey, we care' like a load of easy advertising for the nation's foremost seller of sensible jeans. You think the victim even cared about fashion or what?”

I already was an Adisorn. Ash hadn't really pried too much at the details of Pixie's life story. Come to think of it, backstories weren't some after which Ash chased in general. He finally turned to look at her properly and offered an understanding nod, brows furrowed in a blend of bewildered surprise and attempted serious sympathy. “Yeah, guess I'm the kid of an Adisorn so I kinda get it. Almost,” he said. It wasn't really the same thing. Or, at the very least, he felt bad about pretending it was. “But nobody showed up for him either. My aunt always said whatever happened to him was probably his own damn fault. Makes me wonder what it actually takes for people to give a shit?” And what did mean for people like Pixie, for people like Ash himself? You have to be blessed with a good family or the innate ability to make friends everywhere you go or else you're doomed to be forgotten? That didn't seem fair. “Let's stick together,” said Ash, suddenly. “If anything happens, let's make sure we've got each other's backs or whatever. I mean, people like us should, right?”

[hevrtbrexkqueen]

We can go to my apartment. On instinct, Mei-xie hesitated, as if they had the time to mull it over. In a split second, it was shoved out of their mind; they had no time to lament over their suspicions of every person's ulterior motive in the spawning probability of their tracks being picked out through the fog seeping in from the harbor. "Deal," they said before they could change their mind, "Which way are we going? Let's get out of here, like, now." Reaching out, they wrapped their fingers around Samantha's wrist and tugged her for the quickest escape out the back of the alley, bunching their free hand into their hood and pulling the strings to covertly disguise their pink hair in a veil of black. Was this supposed to be the first adventure of many? Well, adventure was not the word they would use to describe it in the moment. Maybe there was an adrenaline junkie borne of that fallen angel, after all. "I'm with you," she exhorted as she took stride beside her, letting the blonde lead a few steps ahead.

THE BEHAVIOR THAT THE EDITOR COULD BEST DESCRIBE as striking her as to what resembled a prey animal aware of being pursued by a predator was new to the interactions between the two of them, which had previously mostly consisted of the blonde trying to figure out how to act friendly while wondering where the line of too friendly was drawn. Despite her inability to deny the flutter in her chest that churned at each the sight the arcade worker. Now, instead, it was the tightness of concern. "Oh," Blue eyes briefly looked to either side of Pixie, as if there was any possibly she would even be able to identify the threat. "Then we should get you out of here." Samantha carefully looked from either direction, not seeing anything herself that suggested danger before her gaze turned back on her friend after a pause hung in the air between them. "We can go to my apartment." The intention wasn't to sound forward, but rather to provide a place of safety. "It's in the Marionette, and they have security at the door. No one should be able to follow us in, is why I offer," she could practically feel herself rolling her eyes at herself mentally.

[hevrtbrexkqueen]

Mei-xie's eyes were about to go crossed as they scoured the labels on the different lipsticks, a handful of shades appearing to be in painfully close quarters with others. By the time Romi had selected something she seemed vested in, the game attendant had lost all interest in shopping for it any further. "What? I don't think their lip lacquer can turn you into a vampire if that's what your fucking asking me, Anne Rice. You'll have to find a real one for that mission." Her brows scrunched with disbelief, as if the theory were too ludicrous to continue toying around with ideas. She'd been staying far and away from the happenings in Anchorage of late — fires and criminal trials were red flags for the California's Most Wanted ( well, hopefully not literally ) Bonnie-and-Clyde duo to lay lower than low. "Whatever, I'm sure it's like, some ingredient from Botox without the stiff face. Does it matter?" Pixie was generally happy to throw on a coat of black lipstick and get on with their day. Their purse shifted on their shoulder, glancing behind them. "Can we check out? I've got it covered, for your birthday." They generously omitted to mention that they'd swiped the credit card of the pinheaded guy shopping for his wife a few rows down, and grabbed onto Romi's arm, their smile forced but practiced in the sweetness of arsenic lace. Years of captivity did that. "Fine, get the whole fucking counter. Let's go before my bladder explodes."

location: blood for beauty cosmetics

date: august 3rd

@anchoragestarters

Reaching for a tester wand at the beauty bar, Romi swiped on one of the pinky glosses and smiled back at her reflection. Though she was just days away from her twenty-fifth birthday, she was still as beautiful as ever. Looking down at the gloss and then up at the company's tagline about 'staying young forever' with their 'secret formula,' her brow furrowed and she said to no one in particular "Do you think they really have some sort of magic ingredient that helps keeps you young? Like, they've just got the fountain of youth back there or something?" She was going to certainly need some of that soon--unfortunately, she wasn't going to stay youthful forever on her own. Her impending aging was on her mind and she silently wondered to herself how exactly she was going to celebrate her birthday this year. After all, it couldn't be like all the years before: this would be her first birthday sober and she wasn't really sure how to celebrate. Shrugging, she said "Eh, fuck it--maybe I'll just buy the whole counter." She was kidding. Kind of.

[hevrtbrexkqueen]

@sxtmefree at mei-xie's apartment in seal harbor, sometime during the trial

"You know you could like... stay here for a while if you're too afraid to go home or something." Mei-xie knew how petrifying it could be to have that unshakeable feeling that one was being followed. ( If anything, it was a constant in the game attendant's life since they left Prison Valley, as it was frostily dubbed. ) Sitting on the edge of the bed with their friend, they flipped to the next page of an outdated catalogue they'd already circled three or five times over, their clock ticking softly in the background. "Maybe you need to, like... find a new job. I know you like your boss, but... What's it matter if some creep is your regular? I mean, what the fuck do they mean, a 'second date'? Have you gone out with any complete weirdos lately you would've swiped left to if we weren't living in the dark ages?" Without the internet, in other words, although Pixie had avoided social media, herself. "You know the police won't do anything," she scoffed, picking up another slice of pizza, "You should come work with me at Peppy's. You get like, free pizza. And soda."

[hevrtbrexkqueen]

@snowkisses w. aang, outside maiden alley cinema and seal harbor apartments, july 26th

Their ears were assaulted with the sound of a bionic chainsaw digging into their cochlear implant. It was starkly reminiscent of when they had first had it installed, lying up in a hospital bed ( on money earned from their and Freya's highly illegal exploits and out of the pocket of every sorry sack they'd counted cards off of, ) when every sound had been as grating as nails on chalkboard. Up until then, their hearing had been nonexistent for a good few years, and their honest work had relied on employers willing to accommodate them or something that didn't require for them to talk ( and unfortunately, it would not have been the first time. ) When Mei-xie had flopped down on their back after their shift at Peppy's, they hadn't anticipated for the modified version of tinnitus to send a battering ram through their middle ear and corkscrew their brain, and the feral instinct to end it was all-consuming as they flung themselves out of the bed and, adrenaline be damned, nearly wrenched the door off of the hinges. The bottlerocket of a pink nightmare launched through the thin hallway of the apartment building's basement and up the concrete stairs to the fire escape. By the time they'd reached outside the building, their lungs were capsizing and threatening to their utter demise if she weren't more self-aware.

Staggering backward, their eyes were searching the windows for the harrowing imagery of flames licking at windowpanes, smokestacks funneling toward the skies, something, anything — and that damned sound had followed them all the way outside, which was now ringing in their ears. Turning to the nearest person standing on the streets, they pointed an index finger at the building, their sign language hastier than their fumbling speech. "Is the fire alarm going off? Are you from that building?" If it was the cinema up above their floor, then surely, the movie-goers had heard it, too. "What the fuck is that? Holy shit, it's hurting my head."

[hevrtbrexkqueen]

YUQI (G)Idle ★ Klaxon 《 inkigayo 240714 》

[hevrtbrexkqueen]

Pixie's frown accentuated her incertitude as she pulled back against her companion's wrist, insisting with a soft hiss, "You have the luxury of not giving a fuck about who you are, I don't." She decided to leave the cryptic warning open to interpretation — Saylor could idolize her as some lost fucking princess for all she cared, or one of the innumerous missing persons boards plastered on the inside of the Giant's automatic double doors. Quickening her pace to keep up with the other, she would've cringed were they not in motion heading for the parade, but not before smacking Saylor's hand away from the brim of her hoodie. "Lay off, okay? I'm not here to pick up women or... anyone. I'm really not looking to date." Hell, they'd never been on a date in their entire fucking life — besides that delusional dare for a kiss in that dingy, off-road gas station and their actual first kiss at New Year's with Freya —

First kiss? Pixie's subconscious wasn't so deranged to dream up that there would be others, was it?

"I'd rather just see the floats. If you try to find us double dates, I'm punching you in the face and leaving you here." The threat was only half-empty, to be crystal clear. "Where do you think the best place'll be to see them all? Half of these people are taller than I'll ever be. if I broke out stilts, they'd find a way to tower over me," she grumbled under her breath.

Long gone and far away were the days that Saylor confined herself to the strict four wall structure of a room—she intended on experiencing life for as long as she was around for it. She had taken it for granted as a ne'er-do-well teenager, or perhaps it was a useless endeavor considering she only had the resources available within the municipality of Aurora; all one could partake in there was resigning to their fate as a mall rat or boring oneself into a coma when met with countless hours of soap operas that were broadcasted for all of the elderly women that populated the area. Now, though, she was in a city rife with possibility and adventure. She might have despised the very ground she walked upon when it was slick with black ice in the winter, but all could be forgiven as soon as a rainbow flag was mounted in the skies above.

"There's going to be people everywhere," Saylor answered thoughtlessly while perusing the displays in passing. At some point, she tilted her chin over her shoulder and shot Pixie a flashy grin. "Loosen up, will you? I know that hood isn't doing you any favors." Scrunching up her nose in distaste, the red head reached out a hand and tugged at the hood so it would slide off of the crown of their head. "Let the world see that adorable face. There'll be hotter girls here than at that dingy pizzeria."

[hevrtbrexkqueen]

@s3cretkept at anchorage harbor, july 1st

There was an eerie lull blanketing Anchorage. ( Well, Anchorage was always eerie, and a lull was ever so unnerving after a life chock-full of adrenaline and fight-or-flight. Teaching herself to slow down and find respite in the solemnity of the natural surroundings that Anchorage had inherited was a platitude that they didn't oft adhere. ) On a whim, they found themselves sitting at one of the benches near the docks, looking out to the lighthouse — most times, they ignored frivolous rumors. However, the beguiling tales of someone who'd once lived in the lighthouse as its keeper and disappeared were of endless intrigue. If it were her, Mei-xie thought she would have no reason to ever leave. The sea salt left a sour taste in the air, and the seals bathing on rocks were a surreal picturesque straight from the mind of Bob Ross. ( It even included the evergreen trees in the background, rising above the midline of their back. )

Lost in their quandary, her head turned as someone neared and she dragged her platform boots through the sand, an inherent proclivity to prepare to run at any given moment. "I like looking out to the sea sometimes and pretending I've lost a husband who was secretly a pirate, and would like, secretly leave me a fortune of gold in his death," they feigned, making a fist against their heart. The semi-playful ruse abated, supposing the technique to quell their hotfooted lurch into unbridled rage was at rest, for now. "Sorry, am I hogging this whole bench? I can scoot over."

[hevrtbrexkqueen]

@scarlctheart

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[hevrtbrexkqueen]

@aurelia--johnson at seal harbor apartments, around midnight on june 18th

There was a commotion overhead of them that they had been trying to credit to the showing of the latest SAW movie. ( As much as they could stomach horror, they weren't feeling it tonight; the incendiary news of an arson that had wreaked through Rabbit Creek like a vector of all hell raining down disillusioned them from venturing out into the evening. Instead, they had opted to dig out the gopher hole of take-out menus that they and Freya had been collecting — yes, they needed better hobbies — and read the backs of them until they and Aurelia had landed on something that sounded moderately appetizing. )

Ultimately, a feast of egg rolls and kung pao chicken and a littering of Chinese take-out boxes from the local family-owned joint were now scattered on the bedspread of their twin-sized they shared with Freya, and they were baiting the last of the fried rice out of the bottom of another box. "It can't be nothing they've ever seen before — right? Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Children of the Corn, I mean, come on." Campy, horror trash films were gratuitous once they had the luxury of living under the nose of the cinema, perhaps the only indulgence into the public eye past their curfew they'd allow, if only because they also had to step out of the building if they needed to waddle over to the Flying Dutchman with an overflowing basket of laundry.

The scuffling of a rat, or two, crinkled some plastic wrappers of their discarded shells of fortune cookies, a cacophony of squeaks denouncing the taste of recyclables and pattering underneath their dresser. "You don't think they're screaming over the freaky puppet from the poster, right?" she snorted, shoving in another mouthful of the rice and reaching for their soda, washing it down with the Coca-Cola, "The screams sound soo real, fucking wimps."

[hevrtbrexkqueen]

Mei-xie had to confess in their diary later that night that they were surely the worst person to consult on the ins-and-outs of the fashion business. Looking at the decapitated outfit on the table, their mouth threatened to out them with their first impression: they were looking at Frankenstein's bride's idea of a night down the Las Vegas Strip. ( A place they, unfortunately, were too familiarized with. ) Their second thought was to bite their tongue and swallow it down their windpipe and clog their airways altogether when they looked over and took inventory of the color draining out of Freya's tan skin. Looking back to the monstrosity laid out before them, they restrained the grimace that was fighting against the apples of their cheeks and reached out to touch the fabric. "People still like street fashion... or so I've heard," most of their alternative outfits were either thrifted from the Plato's Closet clearance bins or crafted by Freya's own genius ( and this was not one of her enlightened moments... it seemed, ) "I say keep it how it is and throw a belt on it. If you've got the right person who can work it, you can pull it off. It's like how they say, like, anyone can look good in a strip club if they know how to work the pole."

Fustigating the urge to stick their own fist in their mouth to atone for how dopey it sounded coming out of their mouth and reverberating through their eardrums, they allowed their attention to be drawn away from Freya's frenzied recalibrations and scratched behind their ear, minding the bionic wiring of their implant. "I... could walk in it." Would it alleviate her worries if it was someone she knew and trusted to flounce the design across stage and back? Mei-xie was competent in a pair of heels, no thanks to their unlucky history. A gut instinct was telling them that they would rue offering themselves to the task later on. "If you can cover my face. Because if anyone gets a picture of my mug, you know we're in for. I can just hear the state of California ringing up the Anchorage police and asking to cash in on a warrant for our arrest," they stipulated, their voice dropping a few octaves to a conspiratorial whisper. Modesty was a luxury that they'd been maxed out of affording some time ago. Their lips pursed, searching their roommate's eyes, malleably kneaded into a softer gaze for her.

Breathing a sigh of relief at the anchoring sight of her roommate, the redhead felt the anxious tension in her shoulders relax, but a visible unease still settled over her usually steely features, betraying the unfamiliar feeling of helplessness that she felt at the prospective of opening her personal designs up for criticism. If there was anyone in town with the ability to wordlessly read a great deal of Freya's thoughts, it was Mei-xie. They knew the dancer almost as well as she knew herself. Even if her shorter companion knew fuck all about tailoring, she was beyond grateful for their support and steadying presence in that moment. "No, the cabaret is still intact, thank God. I don't think I could stomach losing this competition and being unemployed in one fell swoop," she attempted to joke, but the wheezy laugh that escaped her lips was hollow and wooden, her nerves finding their way into her speech. Pixie playfully zipping their lips shut did manage to get a sincere smile from the performer, though, already feeling more at ease having them in her space.

Stepping back to make room for them at her sewing station, the aspiring tailor's teeth sunk into her lower lip as she assessed the disassembled design on the table. For the dress that Pixie was examining, Freya had taken inspiration from the two genres of dance that meant the most to her: ballet and burlesque. In her attempt to marry both aesthetics, she'd decided to bead gauzy fabrics with intricate detail, taking the sophisticated and airy garments of her childhood and marrying them with the glitz and glamor of her profession as an adult. But she'd failed to account for the fact that the tulle would be weighed down by the embellishments she'd added, and it wasn't falling on her model the way she'd envisioned. "I sorta... freaked out and took apart the skirt of this dress because it was too heavy for her to walk in," Freya confessed with a soft groan, resisting the urge to bury her face in her hands. "Give it to me straight, Pix... how badly did I fuck this up? Is it even salvageable at this point?"

[hevrtbrexkqueen]

Pixie scoffed as she faced away from Ash, arms shielding her chest as she surveilled around her, doing a full three-sixty with the disadvantage of a singular eyeball in her head. "Don't count on your luck to scrape you by every single fucking time, Ash, what would you have done if I decided to wallop the shit out of you right here?" She had half a mind that sheer auspice really was his backup plan, through and through — scrappy didn't equate to being able to fight his way out of a bag of crisps if it wrestled him into it. Either way, they weren't sold on the conviction after seeing him wobble and hobble about on one foot for a solid second or two and threaten to eat dirt on his own accord. They pretended to be nonchalant about it, and internally, they were persuading themselves that their vigilance of the fairgrounds was riding on their own self-preservation — but they were looking out for him, too, especially after that gnarly story of getting jammed on that water ride. ( At least water rides were out during the brutality of mid-winter. For now. Alaska couldn't be deterred of all their fun in a land where the fourth season was practically eternal. )

Turning back, the game attendant's expression mirrored his own, wrinkles blemishing their button nose. Their head tilted, as if they were peering through a crack in the cheap wallpaper of one of those motels, looking out to the other side to gauge the fate of another girl, another human being. Morbid curiosity negated the selfishness of human nature, and inhumane confinement hadn't squeezed their Achilles heel of barking questions, analyzing motives, shrewdly deducing what someone else would get out of it — interactions were transactional. Nothing was without design behind it, or so every experience they'd endured had bid them to believe. No one was friends to simply be. "So what do you want for it? Me hanging out with you," she asked after a beat too long of silence, emphasizing the eerie jilt in the carnival music as it hitched in replay upfront.

Why d'you care what some dumb kids think? Peach tiers curled into a scowl, snapping, "My business is mine, why don't you fucking stay out of it?!" Fists clenched at her sides as the fumigations spouted from her ears, she faced ahead and stomped toward the booth, boot prints sturdily fleshed into the dirt. The umbrage was coddled solely of their own bucking against transparency; to admit embarrassment would be to fall on their own sword and claim fealty. When the control they'd carefully fashioned to pull them out of hell was relinquished, then they were opening themselves up to a greater hurt: trusting again. Jaw clenched, her golden hues observed as the ticket was passed to the attendant, and her fingers swept pink tresses over the impression of her cochlear implant, evading it from the view of the booth manager. The last thing that the pariah truly needed was to be pitied by the temporary hire at a carnival, who looked no more than fifteen or sixteen himself, between the prepubescent chin hair and cystic acne that was more distracting than his mullet. "Fine, I'm watching you, O' Great One," they declared mawkishly, if to throw stones at his earlier remark, "I'm sure you'll just make everyone bow at your fucking greatness, so you can prove how big your dick is or whatever."

One hand hovered mid-air, acrylics pressed on by their roommate gouging into their supple palm. For what it was worth, they were witness to the ball leaving Ash's hand and sailing across the setup, past the boorish attendant, and bouncing off the baseboard to ricochet right back and knock him in his stupid block head. An uproar of laughter crowned behind them, Pixie the lone occupant who was unflappable, their eyebrows squarely set against where their T-line formed. "Your head really is big," she told him dryly, cocking one brow and pointing a razor-sharp fingernail with lacquer matching to their lipstick at him, "Please, fucking tell me you didn't mess that up to make me feel less embarrassed." It might be working. "I will stick my fingers down my throat and vomit that funnel cake back up if you do. I swear to god, Ash."

Ash grimaced despite himself. It was weird, he was pretty sure that, if they had threatened to kick him in the balls, he might not have paid it any mind. That one was kind of a cliché, so overused that it barely meant anything. But getting kicked in the dick? That was specific. That was targeted. Blinking awkwardly and sucking in his lips, Ash shoved his hands into the pockets of his coats. “My head's not even that big,” was the only comeback he could muster in the moment. But she didn't exactly spare him much time for sulking either. He barely had time to blink before she'd taken hold, only uttering a rough 'holy shit' by way of reaction. It had all happened so quickly, the grabbing and the releasing, that he briefly lost his orientation and half-stumbled over his feet, catching himself at the last minute. If he'd slipped any harder, he might just have landed ass-first in the dirt without a single shove. However, there was a strange euphoria that had come with the realisation he was still on two feet and, with a Cheshire cat grin, he leaned to one side and said, “Hasn't killed me yet. I'm pretty good at getting out of scrapes.” This wasn't entirely untrue either. Ash was scrappy, and his upbringing had made an escape artist out of him.

The grin, however, was short-lived. It had been wiped from his face in almost an instant, its place taken by the sort of furrowed brow that ought to have been reserved for things like riddles or excessive mathematical problems. Somebody else might have picked up on Mei-xie's awkwardness and responded with careful tact. Ash was not somebody else. “I brought you 'cause I wanted to hang out with you,” he said, although it was spoken almost like a question, as though her confusion had him doubting his own thoughts. “Y'know, 'cause you're my friend and I like hanging out with you.” Yet, even for all the confidence behind those words right now, it wasn't like Ash had the whole friendship thing down pat either. "Why d'you care what some dumb kids think?" asked Ash. He may have missed the point, by quite some margin. "Everything they think is cool right now, they're gonna find lame in five years." Being embarrassed by your teen self was pretty much a rite of passage, as far as he was convinced. “Besides, that's the whole point,” he said, “I show you how it works and, because I've shown you, you don't suck. What I'm trying to say is I wanna teach you.” He glanced back over his shoulder and saw the family before them finally finish up their turn and leave, the clumsy kid at the front marching off happily with a small stuffed bear in their arms. A parent had won it for them, no doubt. As a teenager, sights like those had sparked a bitterness in him and he'd only ever been able to scowl. But, now, the adult Ash couldn't help but let out a small laugh. He stepped up to the stall, ushering for Mei-xie to follow him. “Look, let's make a deal; you watch me, figure out how this works and then you give it a try,” said Ash, before turning to the stall manager to hand over his game fee. He picked up the ball, readied his arm to aim, and threw. Ash knew he was good at this game. He'd won it plenty of times and he'd just spent the last ten minutes in the queue gauging today's set-up. But he was no good under pressure. It was his own fault, really, for telling Mei-xie to watch him. He didn't even know if she was watching him but the thought that she might be was enough to throw him off his game. He looked on in muted horror as the ball whooshed just south of his target, bounced off the shelf board and ricocheted back to Ash, where it hit him square in the forehead.

[hevrtbrexkqueen]

Against her better judgement, Pixie didn't wrench her arm away from her... friend? ( Acquaintance? News fly on her shoulder? ) The blood drummed in her ears as she looked over her shoulders, gripping the hood of her sweatshirt and pulling it upward. The footsteps hadn't followed them far, nor did they see a face emerging from the shadows, but it was a sufficient reminder of the blood oath they'd made with themselves: never stay out past their self-set curfew. A lump sat in their throat when they swallowed, and they thought they might puke up the food they'd scavenged from the food truck sponsored buffet. "I saw... someone outside, I think they know who I am and — I'm in trouble," Pixie was stumbling over her words, struggling to tow the line of a concise explanation and emphasized her grim predicament. Her heart dropped in her chest when Samantha persisted her concerns — Seal Harbor was a long walk from the cabaret. Could they run fast enough that any opalescent orbs rounding the corner and purring like a malevolent usurper's lapcat wouldn't fetch them? "Anywhere, I just can't be here — I'm not safe, okay?" The unflinching bite to their words paled from their usual bark, huddling into their jacket and pressing themselves against the opposite wall, peering out to either side of the alley in search of their castigator.

SAMANTHA KNEW SHE SHOULD HAVE HELD MORE trust in her staff, a complaint that had been levied against her previously. Technically, the article showcasing the community coming together to aid in the continued search was not an article that was assigned to her but a journalist under, meaning the blonde did not have any sort of responsibility to attend. Her lack of faith in her own employees was evident by how she was still found in attendance regardless, a single experience of horror of when a reporter had backed out of an event at the last minute in combination with her somewhat controlling tendencies enough to make it impossible for her to stay away. The employee exit had been granted to her when she asked where she could find a location of silence to write down a few notes, tucking it back into her small designer crossbody bag when the collision occurred. It took a few blinks to even realize it was Pixie who was in front of her. Blue eyes looked over their shoulder, trying to follow the frenzied gaze but unable to see anything too concerning. One hand came up to their shoulder as she did so, offering it as a comforting action before immediately pulling it away and believing it to scream awkwardness. "No, I'm fine. Don't worry about me. Did something happen inside?" Her actions around the arcade employee was already slightly embarrassing without such an abrupt start to the interaction, as the copy editor was struggling to understand her own emotions. "Do you need someone to walk you to...wherever you're going?"

[hevrtbrexkqueen]

Now that the parade had dispersed and the jovial residents of Anchorage were lined up for fake tattoos and face paints to wear their badge of honor for pride, Mei-xie was lost in the sea of people and divagated from Saylor's side. The misplacement on their countenance must have been self-evident, as someone calling their name prompted them to turn around, pink hair whipping over their shoulders, evanescently self-conscious. Reassuring themselves that no one would know who they were ( that mattered ) since they had veiled their birth name with an appropriate nickname, an alias of sorts to transiently drift through Anchorage, they clasped one hand over the opposite arm as their feet dragged over to where Dorothy stood. Amid the vibrant waves of colors and smiling patrons, they pocketed the thought that the aerialist looked as if she was right where she belonged — at home, if in the absence of the big top tent. This was an entertainment like any other, a gathering of community, both traits that the circus shared with the festive event. "I didn't know that I would be," she said honestly as she breached the deafening bubble of the crowd, closing the proximity between herself and Dorothy, whilst maintaining an arm's length of space. She cast her eyes around the recycled lawn chairs and cushions. The tension in her shoulders was tuned out until her nerves pinched and bit back in recalcitrance, forcing her to loosen her stance and glancing to the flags backing the booth. "...It doesn't have to be, like... specific, does it?" The cut-and-dry rainbow seemed ambiguous enough for this stage in their life. Hands moved away from covering their front to lay stiffly at their sides, looking over their shoulder. They were out of their element — or, the comfortable basement apartment that was beginning to look something like home. "I guess I could go with the rainbow. Where do you want me to sit?"

where : pride parade, face painting booth when : june 9th who : @hevrtbrexkqueen

EVEN THOUGH THE BRUSH IN HER HAND was one of those cheap ones bought in a bulk pack that she assumed someone had purchased on the way to the event, the brush strokes Dorothy left on the person's cheek who was in front of her were ever so delicate as she tried to keep her lines straight while also ensuring the layered face paint was as vibrant as it could be. She was an artist in many senses of the word, as an acrobat who also had a penchant for creating her own clothes, but painting freehand wasn't exactly something she would consider on the list of art she had aced. However, as she was just doing flags and was talked into having enough confidence to be able to paint those, she found herself at the face painting booth on that day for the next few hours. Attending pride events had become important to her whenever she could attend back when traveling with the circus. There were points in her life where her circus family and pride events were the only moments she was truly surrounded by acceptance. Now that she was in a more consistent living place, that had turned into volunteering at pride events when feasible. Finishing the flag, she gave an estimate for how long it would take to dry before looking up for the next person seeking some face paint, when her eyes instead landed on her friend, who was not too far from the tent she was sitting under. "Pixie!" She called, popping up from the foldable chair she had been seated in, one arm waving a bit. "You didn't tell me you'd be here. Do you want to get your face painted, too?"