RMH
Andulka
oozey mess
blake kathryn
🪼
Stranger Things
Keni
Cosimo Galluzzi
Sweet Seals For You, Always
No title available
Noah Kahan
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
JVL
izzy's playlists!
sheepfilms
Mike Driver
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
EXPECTATIONS
ojovivo
One Nice Bug Per Day
seen from India
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Norway
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Lebanon
seen from Belgium
seen from United States
seen from Nicaragua
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@princessphillipamontague
@princessphillipamontague / a private writing account belonging to the roleplay group happiestplacehq as prince phillip, known in Redwood Hollow as Phillipa Montague. based on the disney film from 1959 'SLEEPING BEAUTY' written by Naomi ( she/her, 29, gmt+1-2 ).
TAGS
In the meadow | Rose x Pip
“You smell that?” Phillipa asked Rose as they walked through the meadow where they had first met, the grass stiff with frost beneath their boots, the sky washed pale with winter light. "its smells sweet, unlike the cold air."
She stepped closer, close enough that Rose could feel the warmth of her despite the cold. Phillipa leaned in, hesitating just a breath—as if asking permission without words—before pressing her nose to Rose’s skin. Her lips brushed the curve of Rose’s neck, barely there, a fleeting touch that still sent a shiver straight through her.
“It’s strange,” Phillipa murmured, her voice lower now, softer. “The flowers should be gone by now. Everything should be sleeping.”
Her breath lingered against Rose’s throat.
“Or…” Phillipa drew back just enough to look at her, eyes warm, searching, almost vulnerable. “Is it you who smells honey-sweet?”
She laughed quietly, as if to soften the weight of what she’d said, but her fingers tightened around Rose’s fingers, threading together with careful intention.
The meadow seemed to hold its breath around them—frozen grass, pale sky, the echo of a beginning that had never really left.
@beyondthebriars
— OLIVIA COOKE IN THE GIRLFRIEND
HERE you can find 1,165 high-quality gifs of Olivia Cooke in The Girlfriend (all episodes) as Cherry Laine. All of the gifs were made by me; please respect my rules and do not repost them and/or edit them. Do not use my gifs for taboo themes and Hollywood roleplays. Please like or reblog if you find them helpful or useful. Thank you and enjoy! Trigger Warnings: Alcohol, drugs, flashing lights, blood, violence, semi-nudity.
Rose had kept it together up until she heard the words “I love you so much” coming from Phillipa. The confession that she wasn’t in this alone that it was mutual was too much and not enough all at the same time
Her breath shuddered out of her, and she cupped Phillipa’s face with both hands, gently pulling back just enough to see her. Her thumbs brushed away the hot tears still clinging to Phillipa’s cheeks, and her own eyes shimmered, full to the brim.
“Pip…” Rose’s voice was small, fragile, but steady in its sincerity. Then the words came out, akin to the bubbles cascading out of a freshly popped champagne bottle. “You already make me happy. You make me feel safe, like I can be myself without hiding, without pretending. I don’t want anyone else. I don’t think I could love anyone else the way I love you. I don’t know how to explain it but it’s you it’s always been you. I am yours.” She confessed tears finally cascading down her cheeks.
The warm, buttery light from the single lantern inside the tent flickered and danced, casting long, swaying shadows that mirrored the chaotic tangle of Phillipa's emotions. For what felt like an eternity, every glance, every nervous tremor, and every unspoken word had been a scattered piece of a puzzle she couldn't solve. But now, as Rose’s soft voice broke the silence with a tear-filled confession, every piece clicked into place with a profound and startling clarity. The truth she had been searching for, the answer to her deepest fears, was finally revealed: Rose loved her as deeply and completely as she loved Rose. The suffocating weight of her anxieties lifted, replaced by a profound and exhilarating certainty. A new life, a wonderful relationship, was waiting for them both, just on the other side of this single, extraordinary moment.
"I love it when you call me Pip," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper, the intimacy of the nickname now a precious gift. With her thumb, she gently wiped away the tear that had traced a path down Rose's flushed cheek. She felt the softness of her skin, a grounding sensation that made the world feel real again. A shaky laugh escaped her lips. "Who would've thought that confessing would lead to us both ending up a wonderful mess?" she said, her eyes twinkling with a mix of joy and relief as she gestured to her own tear-streaked face. As her last words hung in the air, a sense of absolute rightness settled over them. The stuffiness of the tent, the tight knot in Pip's stomach—it all vanished. With a gentle tug, she took Rose's hand, lacing their fingers together, and led her out of the tent and into the cool air.
The world outside felt utterly transformed. The air, crisp and clean, washed over them like a wave of liberation. The sun, a golden glow in the vast blue sky, cast a gentle serenity on the landscape, just like the summer they met. For the first time since the confession began, Phillipa felt like she could truly breathe. It was a delicious, refreshing breath of fresh air, a new beginning that was not just awaiting them, but had already begun. They stood there for a moment, hand in hand, letting the cool breeze clear away the last lingering remnants of fear, a silent understanding passing between them that this, finally, was the rest of their lives.
wishbone
a collection of starters from the 2025 album wishbone by conan gray. content warning for adult themes, substance use, nausea/emeto mention, sad gay shit, etc. feel free to edit pronouns/other terms as necessary.
Nobody saw us in the hotel lobby.
I didn't cry.
The church bells won't stop ringing.
I tried to hide the feeling, but it just won't go away.
Let's pretend nothing happened.
You're a much better actor than me.
Have you talked to ___?
I barely even fucking know him.
You're saving your face but you take it out on your nose.
If you ever cared, well, I wouldn't know.
Blame it on a bad manic episode.
You know that I love you.
I have a feeling that you love me back.
Your eyes are like heaven.
I wrote this song about you.
Is it dumb believing you might love me too?
So you've been crying.
Speak up!
I know you hate me.
If you won't end things, then I will.
I notice everything you do.
Everybody knows you don't love me the same.
So cruel to be lying to my face.
Don't make me do this to you.
I was out waiting for you.
I was out praying for you.
Even on my worst day, I was never treating you the selfish way you treated me.
You don't wanna know all I did.
You took away my will to live.
I hope you know I'm never gonna want you back.
I went and got dumped.
I did it all, damn, for what?
You're no Romeo.
Never liked kissing your mouth with cigarettes on your breath.
I wish I listened to my friends who said I could get a much better guy.
I don't wanna know what you did.
Guess I was just your experiment.
You gotta figure out your shit with someone else, man.
I can't fix you, I'm sorry.
I've given up on being anything.
It's my girl and it's my guy.
I'll kiss 'em if I might like.
I don't have you in mind.
It's my time, I'll waste it how I might like.
Couldn't tell you who I was before.
How was I supposed to know who I should be if I was no longer yours?
It's totally okay, dude, I really don't mind.
Growing up didn't go how I'd liked.
Men don't wanna hear that I'm trailer trash.
I still feel like the class clown.
Take your pick: be laughed at or laughed with.
If I stop laughing all the blood will just start pouring out.
You just wanna dance.
Your love is a threat.
I'm nauseous.
I'm haunted by people who've left.
Yeah, you scare me.
Behind every kiss is a jaw that could bite.
Maybe that's why I feel safe with bad guys, because when they hurt me I won't be surprised.
Maybe I'm here waiting for someone.
I know that it's in me to really love someone but that's not a thing I learned from my loved ones.
In the moment, you weren't all that kind.
You can act real cool 'cause it's over now, but, man, you cried when it all went down.
I want you back now.
Come over to my house, there's space on my couch.
I almost hurled when I saw your hand down the small of her back.
I know it's dumb that I'd ever think that I'd meet your mom and dad.
Kissing your ghost was my own damned fucking fault.
Deep in my bones I know pain is what I earned.
You remind me of how good it feels to hurt.
I knew we weren't meant to be.
You remind me of my father's slurring words.
Heard you're in the city.
___ says you're dating again.
If you're out here doing well, don't tell me.
Part of me just wanted some proof it's hurting you in the way it's hurting me too.
You've got a messed-up head and you need some space.
Go get some help.
I wish you the best but I hope that you die.
If there is someone new that you're out here fucking, don't tell me.
I still wish for you at 11:11.
What am I reading horoscopes for?
Why don't you come back?
I just can't accept that it's too late.
Life’s so much better now that we don't speak.
I just don't feel like I could love again.
I care.
Though I won't miss being your lover, I'm still losing a friend.
I’m not trying to say that I want you back but it's nice to linger in the past.
Why does it trigger me so bad to see you with somebody who is not me and you're happy?
Rose stood outside trying to patient, she tried everything she could to give them privacy. Truth be told she heard every word. Heard the love and also pain in her voice. The shock of it all has cemented her shoes to the ground. She wants nothing more than to run in and profess her love, to tell her yes yes she can and she does. But moment isn’t happening. Should I interrupt or should I wait?
(Inside the tent):
The tarot lady gave no immediate answer.She simply reached across the table and gently took Phillipa’s trembling hands in her own. Her touch was warm, steadying. For a long moment, she said nothing, just looked at Phillipa with soft, steady eyes that seemed to see right through fear and down to the heart of the question—the ache, the hope, the courage it had taken to ask.Then, finally, in a voice like velvet and moonlight, she spoke. “A girl like that,” she said slowly, “does not give her heart lightly. She notices everything. She feels everything. She sees beauty in places most people overlook.” She gently brushed her thumb over Phillipa’s knuckles. Seeing the flap of the tent opening slightly gave her the assurance to continue “If she has let you into her world… if she’s smiled just for you, paused to listen when you spoke, stayed near when she could’ve walked away… then yes. She can love a girl like you. I could always ask the cards….
Before the mystic could finish her sentence; Rose fully steps into the finally having mustered the courage to come forward.
“I’ve been trying to find the right words for this,” Rose began, her voice low, an unsteady but assured. “But I don’t think they exist. Not really. Not when it comes to you.” She exhales, trying to quell the heat flushing her entire being and the growing lump in her throat “I’m in love with you,” she said, the words finally leaving her in a rush of quiet desperation and deep, aching truth. “I have been. For a while now. I didn’t mean to fall. I just… how could I not?I started noticing the way you light up when you talk about something you care about. The way you always find beauty in the smallest things, how your nose crinkles whenever you’re inspecting a gemstone. The way you make people feel seen. The way you made me feel seen.I have never been more sure of anything than I am that I love you” Her voice cracked but she pushed on after swallowing the dry lump in her throat that always came with her tears. “I didn’t say anything because I was scared it would ruin everything. That you’d pull away. That I’d lose this…” she closes the distance and kneels down to eye level, grasping her hands and allowing the rest of her heart to be put on display. “But I can’t keep pretending like I don’t feel it. Not when every part of me wants to reach for you.”
Rose cupped Phillipa’s face in her left hand, her right remaining on the ground to help steady her. She leaned her forehead against Pip’s and whispered “I’ve always been yours” before leaning in and finally pressing her lips against hers. Putting every ounce of emotion, love and longing into the kiss. Pulling her lips away she leans forehead to forehead with Lip as she tried to catch her breath.
Phillipa didn't know why she had asked a fortune teller if Rose could love her. The question, a desperate whisper torn from the depths of her soul, felt both foolish and profoundly necessary. Had she hoped Rose, lingering just outside the velvet curtain of the small, incense-filled booth, would overhear? Or had she truly believed that the worn, shuffled cards held the answer to the question that had kept her awake for countless, agonizing nights, painting shadows under her eyes and a constant ache in her chest?
The air in the tiny shop was thick with the scent of sandalwood and forgotten dreams. Dust motes danced in the single shaft of sunlight piercing the gloom, illuminating the fortune teller's gnarled hands as they meticulously laid out the Tarot. Phillipa watched, mesmerized and terrified, as the cards formed a cryptic tapestry of her yearning. Her heart, a heavy stone in her ribcage, began to swell with a fragile, almost unbearable hope when the woman, her voice a low, gravelly murmur, finally spoke."If she has let you into her world… if she’s smiled just for you, paused to listen when you spoke, stayed near when she could’ve walked away… then yes. She can love a girl like you. I could always ask the cards…." Phillipa leaned forward, her breath catching. Hope, incandescent and terrifying, flared within her. Yes, Rose could love her. Perhaps the cards were confirming her deepest desire. Perhaps this was the universe's way of finally granting her peace. It was precisely this burgeoning, desperate hope that made her so utterly taken aback, so completely disarmed, when it was Rose's voice, not the fortune teller's, that finally broke through the mystical haze.
“I’ve been trying to find the right words for this,” Rose's voice, soft and hesitant, was like a gentle hand on her shoulder, pulling her back from the precipice of her own anxieties. Phillipa turned slowly, her vision still slightly blurred by unshed tears and the lingering scent of incense. Rose stood there, her eyes wide and earnest, a faint blush dusting her cheeks.
Phillipa listened to every word that tumbled from Rose's lips, each one a precious, fragile gift. Her mind, usually a chaotic storm of doubts and insecurities, became a quiet, attentive space, absorbing every syllable. But when the words,“I’m in love with you,” finally fell, a soft, almost imperceptible whisper, Phillipa couldn't hold it back any longer. A deep, guttural sob escaped her, raw and involuntary. Her hands, trembling, flew to her face, trying to catch the hot, anxious tears that now streamed freely. It was the release of weeks, perhaps months, of pent-up anxiety, the crushing fear of rejection that had haunted her even in this moment, a moment where it seemed utterly impossible.
She continued to listen to Rose, her voice a steady anchor in the swirling chaos of Phillipa's emotions. Rose spoke of shared laughter, of quiet moments, of a connection that transcended friendship. And as Rose spoke, Phillipa felt seen. Truly seen. For the first time in her life, she felt as though someone had looked past the carefully constructed walls, beyond the witty retorts and the guarded expressions, and truly understood the vulnerable, yearning soul beneath. And of course, it was Rose who saw her that way. It was Rose who had moved her, who had taught her to appreciate the delicate beauty in the mundane, who had inspired her creativity and filled her with new ideas, new ways of seeing the world.
"I love you so much," phillipa whispered again, her voice thick with emotion, stepping closer. Phillipa, feeling impossibly small and vulnerable despite her usual composure, clung onto the younger girl, burying her face in Rose's shoulder. "I want to hold you, to carry your weight and your worries, to be the one you love and love alone." It was a selfish plea, she knew, a possessive declaration born of profound longing. But she needed Rose to know this, needed her to understand the depth of the offering: her heart, completely and utterly, and her heart alone.
And then, in the hushed sanctity of that small, strange shop, they kissed. It was not a sudden, passionate embrace, but a slow, tender meeting of lips, a gentle exploration that felt both impossibly beautiful and utterly magical. It was the culmination of unspoken desires, of lingering glances and silent understandings, a promise whispered on the breath. Phillipa pulled Rose closer, her arms wrapping tightly around her, as if to anchor them both in this perfect, suspended moment.
"Please," Phillipa whispered against Rose's lips, her voice raw with emotion, "please be my lover, be my girlfriend. I'll promise I'll make you happy. I want to make you happy. I want us. All of us." The words were a plea, a vow, and a desperate, hopeful vision of a future that, just moments ago, had seemed an impossible dream. Now, with Rose in her arms, it felt like the only possible reality.
🎺 An instrumental song for my muse
🎧
Send 𓏌 ( or ring ) to create a moodboard for our muses’ wedding .
(Rose)
The morning sun, soft as a lover's whisper, filtered through the lace curtains, painting stripes of gold across the antique vanity. Briar Rose, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of excitement and disbelief, watched as Phillipa carefully lined her own lid, a gentle smile playing on her lips. They sat side-by-side, sharing brushes and laughter, a silent symphony of affection in the quiet pre-ceremony bustle. Phillipa leaned over, gently dabbing a stray bit of shimmer from Briar's cheek, their fingers brushing, sending a tingle through both of them. It was a shared moment of intimate calm before the beautiful storm of their "I do's." With their faces glowing, enhanced by each other's touch and anticipation, they finally rose, sharing one last, lingering kiss. "See you at the altar, my love," Phillipa whispered, before they each retreated to separate rooms, their gowns waiting, ready to transform them into the brides they were destined to be. The air was thick with promise, and the world held its breath for the moment Rose Briar and Phillipa Montague would finally become one.
🎆
{Roses wither but in the heart of a lover they live forever} | Rose x Phillipa {pride thread}
It took them a moment, a shared breath of anticipation and a last lingering glance at the bustling marketplace, but finally, Rose and Phillipa arrived at the entrance of the tarot place. The air immediately shifted, growing cooler, carrying the faint scent of incense and beeswax. It was dark inside, yet paradoxically lit with a myriad of flickering candles, their soft, dancing flames casting long, shifting shadows that played across tapestries and arcane symbols. The atmosphere was at once mythical and eerily inviting, a whispered promise of ancient wisdom and hidden truths.
Phillipa paused at the threshold, her heart thrumming a nervous rhythm against her ribs. She looked at Rose, her expression a mix of trepidation and a sudden, resolute determination. "Do you mind if I go in first—" she began, the words tumbling out in a rush. She didn't even wait for Rose to answer, propelled by an urgent, almost impulsive need. Before Rose could utter a sound, Phillipa had already stepped across the threshold, disappearing into the mystical gloom, leaving Rose to wonder. Phillipa hoped, with every fiber of her being, that Rose would hear what she had to say to the nice tarot lady, that the walls of the small tent weren't thick enough to muffle the raw vulnerability she was about to lay bare.
As expected, the tarot lady, her eyes kind and knowing in the dim light, gestured for Phillipa to sit opposite her at a small, round table. Her voice, a low, comforting murmur, asked if she had a particular question weighing on her heart. Phillipa nodded, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her knuckles white. She took a fortifying breath, bracing herself. "I am in love with someone," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper, "someone so vibrant and dreamy – a—" she swallowed hard, the word catching in her throat, feeling utterly exposed. "A wonderful, creative girl who loves nature, and who would, without a second thought, care for a sick animal." She paused, drawing another deep, shaky breath, letting the description paint itself in the air between them. Then, her gaze fixed on the tarot lady, she finally articulated the question that had plagued her for so long, the one that held the key to her deepest fears and brightest hopes: "My question is, can a girl that wonderful possibly love a girl like me back?" The words hung in the candlelit air, heavy with unspoken longing and the weight of her deepest insecurity.
@beyondthebriars
Rose was very observant, she noticed Pip’s hesitancy to talk about the necklace, and Honeymaren’s quiet reassurance. Seeing the pendant glittering from her crushes neck was almost enough for her to find the nerve to be bold. She reached gently for the pendant running her thumb across the rose and the outline “It’s like it’s made for you, it’s beautiful” she says before she turned to look around for points of interest, which was less about looking and more about hiding the crimson that steadily creeped across her cheeks anytime she looked at Phillipa too long.
“I actually saw someone giving readings by the taco truck near the entrance, like four booths down I believe.” She said pointing towards the more witchy section of the stalls. “I’ve actually never had my fortune read, that sounds really interesting. Can we all head there next?” She suggested as she browsed the table and found a bracelet with alternating pink, blue, and purple beads. “I think I’m going to get this one, what do you think love?” Rose said looking up into her eyes with a soft kind of vulnerability that she didn’t often show.
"Oh, you think so?" Phillipa's voice was barely a whisper, a tremor of uncertainty lacing the words. Her cheeks, already a delicate rose, began to flush hotter with each passing second, a vibrant blush that spread from her collarbones to the tips of her ears. This escalating warmth was not just from the unexpected turn in conversation, but from the feather-light touch of Rose's thumb as it caressed the pendant hanging around Phillipa's neck, a touch that for a breathtaking, suspended split second, brushed against her bare skin. It was as if the very air had been sucked straight out of her lungs, leaving her breathless, disoriented, and utterly exposed. She found herself blushing fiercely, like the lovesick maiden she undeniably was, a truth she vehemently denied to everyone but her own racing heart. "Yeah... beautiful," she managed to stammer out, the word catching in her throat, a choked whisper. Like you, Phillipa's mind screamed, the unspoken compliment a heavy, sweet burden on her tongue. Oh, how she wished she had the courage to just say it out loud, to be as bold and uninhibited as Elsa and Honeymaren were, their affection a shining, enviable beacon.
A shadow briefly crossed her features, a fleeting moment of self-recrimination. Why did she have to be such a coward? Why couldn't she just grasp the happiness that felt so close, yet perpetually out of reach due to her own reticence?
Phillipa's mood darkened for a split second, a flicker of frustration at her own internal monologue, but with a determined shake of her head, she swiftly shook it off. No, not now. She was here to enjoy herself, to bask in the easy camaraderie of Rose, and of course, Elsa and Honeymaren too. But truly, it was mostly Rose, because no matter what they were doing, Phillipa always, always had a good time when she was with Rose. Rose had a way of making the mundane sparkle, of turning a simple day into an adventure.
"Oh, I've never actually had my fortune read either," she confessed, trying to sound nonchalant, her voice still a little breathless. "What do you want to ask the tarot lady?" she asked Rose curiously, hoping to deflect the lingering heat from her cheeks and the frantic beat of her heart. But before Rose could respond, Phillipa's eyes widened in genuine shock, her jaw going slack. Did... did Rose just call her love? Not 'Phillipa,' not 'Pip,' but 'love'? The simple endearment hit her with the force of a physical blow, reverberating through every nerve ending.
"L-l-l-..." she tried to articulate, but the words stubbornly abandoned her, forming an incoherent stutter. Her head, from her neck to her scalp, was now a fierce, undeniable shade of red, a testament to the inferno raging within her. Oh dear, she thought, her mind a dizzying swirl of delight and mortification, this girl will absolutely be the end of her. And somehow, impossibly, that thought brought a tiny, blissful smile to her lips.
@honeymxren
Rose stands a little behind the group at first—hands tucked into her short pockets. Her eyes are wide, taking in the festivities: rainbow flags fluttering, music pulsing, people dancing, laughing, holding hands.She’s overwhelmed, but not in a bad way. Without realizing it she had gravitated even closer to Pips side. Trying not to let her anxiety rule the day.
“How about we stay together for now and if there’s any booths that catch our attention and we split up, how about we meet up back here for lunch? Does that sound good to you @princessphillipamontague ?”
There wasn’t a better time or place to explore her feelings, this was a safe place, so why was her heart beating in her throat.
Phillipa didn't quite know what she expected when she entered the buzzing, kaleidoscopic streets of Pride. The sheer energy of the crowd hit her like a joyous wave – a vibrant tapestry of laughter, music, and a thousand different stories unfolding all around. The air thrummed with celebration, carrying the sweet scent of sugary treats and the faint, earthy smell of the park nearby. Her eyes, wide with wonder, darted from one dazzling display to another: people dancing with abandon, flags of every color unfurling in the gentle breeze, and the infectious rhythm of a drum circle echoing down the block.
Then, amidst the delightful chaos, something caught her eye. A small, unassuming stall, yet it glowed with an inviting warmth, laden with an array of handmade jewelry. Each piece seemed to shimmer with its own unique light, crafted with care and radiating personality. Before she could even fully process the thought, an irresistible pull took over. Her hand instinctively found Rose's, her fingers wrapping around her friend's with a sudden, almost childish grip. Without a word, Phillipa tugged, pulling Rose through the flowing stream of people with an eagerness that reminded her of a child on Christmas morning, barreling towards a coveted toy.
"Look, Rose!" she exclaimed, her voice bubbling over with pure, unadulterated excitement, a wide grin stretching across her face. Her gaze had fixed on a particular piece – a delicate rose pendant, its petals meticulously colored in the distinct, beautiful shades of the lesbian flag. It was simple, elegant, and perfectly captured the spirit of the day. She carefully picked it up, her fingers tracing the smooth lines of the metal, imagining how it would feel against her skin.
"Do you think it'll look good on—" Phillipa started, her thoughts naturally drifting to Rose . Her eyes flickered past Rose, landing momentarily on Honeymaren, then drifting further to Elsa, who stood a few steps behind, equally captivated by the scene around them. The words caught in her throat, a sudden flush rising to her cheeks. She swallowed hard, her previous exuberance deflating just a touch. "Oops..." she mumbled, a sheepish laugh escaping her lips. The moment of impulsive excitement had almost betrayed a deeper, unspoken thought.
Rose leaned in close to Phillipa’s ear before asking “I really love this song, want to dance?”. The speakers are bumping and she wanted to make sure she heard her. Before extending her left hand palm up awaiting a reply.
Closed starter for @princessphillipamontague
"I really love this song, want to dance?"
Phillipa's heart gave a little flutter. She nodded eagerly, a warm smile blooming on her face. Of course she wanted to dance with Rose; any excuse to hold her close, to feel the warmth of her body, was a welcoming one, a small indulgence she'd gladly seize.
"I am not that good of a dancer, though," Phillipa had to admit, a sheepish laugh escaping her lips. "I promise I won't step on your toes, however. I'm not that bad, just my sense of rhythm is a bit, well... off." As if to prove her point, she swayed gently to the beat, her movements lagging a couple of seconds behind the music's pulse. The endearing awkwardness only added to her charm.
"What do you like about this song?" she asked Rose curiously, her gaze tender as she anticipated hearing the answer.
Honeymaren could tell that there was something on the woman's mind. Maybe it was intuition, or maybe it was her experience as an educator and mentor to her students, but something felt... amiss. A change of tone was definitely afoot, and as Phillipa turned to her, Honeymaren made sure to give her her full attention.
Well, that was certainly not the question she was expecting, as proven by the chuckle that left her lips. "Exclusively." She thought that was an obvious fact, though then again it wasn't like she wore an "I love women" t-shirt everywhere she went. She had been right, that there was an obvious shift in their conversation, and she knew that she needed to handle this delicately. Luckily, she was a counselor at the college for queer students, and those questioning, so she had lots of practice in this topic.
"Are you having thoughts of women? Romantic, intimate thoughts, that is."
"Are you having thoughts of women? Romantic, intimate thoughts, that is."
The question hung in the air between them, a direct and probing inquiry that immediately sent Phillipa's mind spiraling. She didn't respond right away, her gaze unfocused as she stared into the middle distance, her face a canvas reflecting the intense inner turmoil she was feeling. Her brow furrowed, then relaxed, then furrowed again, a silent battle playing out across her features. It was a long while, a stretched silence that seemed to hum with unspoken possibilities, before she finally managed to articulate a single, almost reluctant word.
"Yes," was all she managed to say, her voice barely a whisper, yet undeniably clear. She swallowed hard, her eyes still clouded with a mixture of confusion and a nascent longing. "But I have never even kissed anyone before in that way—not a man, not a woman, not anyone—let alone..." Her voice trailed off, becoming so soft it was almost inaudible, as if she were uttering something deeply secret or inherently forbidden, something that only the two of them should ever know. "...a woman." The final words were laced with a fragile vulnerability, a raw admission of both desire and inexperience.
open starter @happieststarters
Among her many talents, Chelsea was a great lover of games. She loved a good challenge, after all, and while she wasn't one for sports (she had good coordination and acceptable speed, but was not exactly resilient or strong --she was perfectly aware of it) she was quite proud of her rational, quick-thinking mind.
Particularly, in her opinion, she was a very good poker player. Ever since she first visited Snake Eyes, she found out she was better than she assumed, and not as rusty as she expected. Her second favorite game, though, was chess. She used to be quite good at it in high school, and almost joined the chess club, though in the end preferred to spend her free time doing... Other things.
"Well, hello there. Interested in a friendly match?" she asked someone who had slowed their pace as they passed by the chess table at the park. "Though it doesn't need to be friendly, of course."
"Oh no, I really don't know the rules to chess, I'm afraid," Phillipa said, her voice tinged with genuine apology. She gave a small, rueful laugh. "And I'm a terribly slow learner when it comes to things like this. You'd honestly end up with a splitting headache trying to teach me, I promise." She paused, her expression shifting to one of hopeful amends. "But to make it up to you for being such a lost cause in the world of strategic board games, let me keep you some company instead. I'd be happy to just chat while you play, or whatever you'd prefer."
open starter @happieststarters
Guinevere remained perfectly still. Her expression did not betray a single thought or emotion. The only thing that might reveal some sort of reaction to her environment was the almost imperceptible speed in which her chest fell and rose, as if slightly agitated. The bouncy pop music blaring out of the speakers at that beauty salon was absolutely unbearable, but she did a great job pretending she did not mind it.
But it was turning hard to stay steely. Someone turned the music even louder. Her fingers twitched. She took a brief deep breath.
"Would it be too much to ask, to lower the music somewhat?" she finally asked herself in a firm but quiet voice. She was not in the mood to argue with some beautician. Her patience was growing thin, however.
Phillipa held her tongue, a muscle in her jaw twitching almost imperceptibly as the youngsters nearby blared their music. The cacophony of distorted bass and screeching vocals grated on her nerves; all she truly wanted was a moment of blessed peace and quiet, a chance to simply exist without the intrusive din. So, when Guinevere, with her imposing presence, finally spoke to them, a profound wave of gratitude washed over Phillipa. Relief, hot and sudden, flooded her.
However, that relief was quickly replaced by a different kind of discomfort. Guinevere was, to put it mildly, quite the presence. Her stature, her commanding aura, and the directness of her gaze seemed to steal the very words from Phillipa’s throat. Just as she thought she might offer a word of thanks or perhaps even an apology for the disturbance, she found herself utterly tongue-tied. It was as if her ability to speak had momentarily deserted her, leaving her to stammer out a pathetic, barely audible "Uhm—" before silence claimed her once more.
