Posting A Little Late Bc Today Has Been A Trial, But Here! A While Ago I Was DoingSelf Indulgent Queer

Posting a little late bc today has been… a trial, but here! A while ago I was doing “Self Indulgent Queer Headcanon Circles” for various things, so it felt appropriate to do this~

Rose and Robin aren’t thinking about any of that stuff yet but they’re here to support their sisters! Also I didn’t know the GNC flag off hand and had to look it up so pls forgive me if I drew it wrong 

Day Five: Wolf Swap

The Girl in Red cannot for the life of her figure out this strange little creature.

She can hardly believe that this absent-minded little fool shares genetic material with her sorrow-marked siblings, each of them utterly and irreparably bound to the earth.

And then there’s this walking balloon.

She drifts across the field the Girl in Red calls home, delicate fingers tracing the thin veins of wildflower petals. A faint smile on her pale face, like she’s in on some secret.

She doesn’t like when this girl looks at her. Like she understands something about her without either of them saying a word to each other. It reminds her all too much of her sister in white, wise beyond wisdom and distant from this world and every other.

“Hello,” the strange girl says. Her voice is soft, weak. “Are you exploring too?”

The Girl in Red turns up her nose.

“You’re not the fun one.”

“Ginger?” the strange girl asks with another little smile. “Sorry. It’s my turn to go to Grandmother’s house. But I had some time, so I thought I’d check on the flowers.”

Check on the flowers. The Girl in Red fights the urge to feed this little cretin to the Werewolf. She sighs, then cocks her head to one side. Considers. She’s not supposed to see this one. The thing in the lake has already marked this girl. So why is she here? And why can this child, who’s not yet started to truly grow, see her now?

“There’s another girl in the forest,” the strange girl adds after a moment of silence. “She looks a bit like you. Are you sisters?”

She’s all the good parts of me, running away and away and away and I can never catch her hand.

“Yeah. She’s my sister.”

The strange girl smiles even wider. A breeze catches in her hair, causing it to gently sway like weeds in water.

“That’s great! She’s really nice. Does your family have a cottage out here? Our grandmother lives just down the path, at the edge of the woods.”

“We’re here and there,” the Girl in Red replies. “Where we need to be.”

The strange girl frowns.

“I suppose that’s where everyone is,” she says. “Where they need to be. Even when they feel lost.” She looks at the Girl in Red curiously. “Do you ever feel lost?”

Yes.

“No.”

“Oh,” the strange girl says, then smiles sheepishly. “Because I feel pretty lost right now. Know how to get back to the path?”

Follow the light ‘till you find the lake. There’s someone very important there, waiting for you. They’ve been waiting for you for a long, long time.

“Find my sister. She’s got a good sense of direction.”

“I wish I knew this forest better,” the strange girl admits. “This place, it seems like it doesn’t want to be known. Maybe I should respect that.”

You aspire to know so much. That hunger, it’s almost as great as ours.

“It’s a big forest. People who don’t live out here find trouble more than they find anything else. It’s only when you belong here that you start to know everywhere interesting.”

The strange girl’s expression softens.

“If I go to find your sister,” she says, “will you come with me? Maybe we can all play together, or just spend some time. It would be nice.”

I can’t leave this place. None of us can. We just pace and fester and hunger and wait.

“No. I’m not done playing. Have fun with my sister. She likes gentle games.”

The strange girl looks somber for a moment. Then she nods, taking a moment to look up at the patch of sky above them, one of the only ones visible from the forest. Here the light is golden, the sky a deep, lonesome blue. The last of the light is being swallowed up by the long night to come.

“Oh, goodness, it’s almost dark! I need to hurry!” the strange girl says. “Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself?”

The Girl in Red nods.

“Like I said. I know this place. Even in the dark I know every turn.” She picks a flower and pulls off the petals one by one. “Run along. I’m not yours anyway.”

The strange girl looks confused at her words, but finally relents, and walks away. She turns as the fading light catches in her hair, weaving gold into the black.

“I hope I see you again.”

You’ll be swallowed whole before you’ll ever get that chance, little thing.

The Girl in Red just waves.

day 6: black, white, red

immediately wanted to draw rose at the graveyard after reading the prompt

Day Four: Past/Future

It’s tucked beneath dusty, moth-eaten layers of scarves and cardigans. Virtually intact, despite the poor material and clumsy stitchwork, after ten years of neglect.

Robin picks up the coat, and, in a fit of whimsy, puts it on.

It comes down to about her middle back, tight around the shoulders, the cheap clasp so worn and tired she can’t get it to close around her collar. Tufts of her short dark hair peek out under the hood. It’s a comical contrast to the rest of her outfit: a simple black dress without filigree or fanfare, the sort of thing you wear to fulfil an obligation and go home without a fuss.

The funeral had been a simple affair. Their grandmother was nominally religious, so they buried her in the small, tidy graveyard of Saint Charles’ and mumbled half-hearted prayers beneath the flat gray sky. Their mother (so thin and grey, face lined and eyes hollow—when had she changed?) gave a eulogy, and each one of the family mutely took a handful of grave dirt to toss into the open grave. Still makes her sick, those neat little pits, leading to the embrace of empty earth.

Not like flowers. People are put into the ground like something cursed. Buried forgetting-deep. Like something you never, ever want to see again.

Robin found herself staring into the hungry dark for a full minute before Ruby tapped her on the shoulder and led her back into the church for the wake.

There weren’t many people there. Strictly family, Grandmother had said. Robin looked at the pale, solemn faces of her siblings, and at the mildly uncomfortable faces of Ginger’ girlfriend and Carmen’s fiancé. Neither of them had ever met Grandmother, couldn’t understand the hole in their partners’ hearts. Still, they did what they could, offering small comforts and holding to their partners’ arms as if afraid they’d drift away like balloons.

Rose sat by a stained glass window depicting Salome and John the Baptist. She looked, as usual, far, far away. Her hair was even longer than it had been when they were kids; nearly down to her waist. She’s growing it out for some charity or another, Carmen had said.

Rose noticed Robin staring and smiled. She seemed so serene in this place of death. Being a hospice nurse would do that, Robin supposed. She nodded at Rose without a word.

Elsewhere, Ginger and Ruby were talking quietly over a plate of aggressively okay cold cuts. Ginger was still well and truly the shortest of the family, and even heavy-duty leather boots wouldn’t fix that.

Ginger shifted their weight from one foot to another, practically sparking with nervous energy. They’d told Robin once that they really only felt at ease on the park trails, cataloguing plants or saving hikers or whatever it was rangers did. Robin can believe it. Ginger was never made for cities and smog.

Ruby also looked out of place, face riddled with piercings, hair buzzed to nearly nothing. She and Robin haven't spoken in almost a year. Ruby just sort of vanished once she left high school, only popping into her siblings' lives for a handful of nights before heading back out for some alone time with her demons.

Robin isn't sure what Ruby does. Maybe Ruby isn't sure either. She looked healthy, at least. No signs of old habits.

"You okay there, space cadet?" Carmen asked. She looked weird without dye in her hair. Apparently her office wasn't a fan of hair dye, or piercings, or tattoos, or anything that might offend the faceless board of directors and their old fashioned values. Apparently not working unpaid overtime offended the higher-ups too, as did taking full lunches, talking too often, or existing too loudly.

It's good money, Carmen always said. Better than we ever had growing up. It's not the best job, but it'll help make sure my kids don't grow up like we did.

"All good," Robin said. "Well. Apart from the obvious."

"Yeah."

"She lived a long life."

"Could've been longer."

Robin wasn't sure what to say to that, so she said nothing at all, and waited by the pews as Carmen went back to talking to Scarlet by the door, where the latter had been watching the weather. Looked like it might rain. No good, trying to drive in that.

Ever sensible, Scarlet. Sensible classy loafers, sensible refined dress, sensible short hair. A sensible job; a music teacher, with occasional gigs on the side. A sensible compromise between reality and aspiration.

Robin looked around the room again. Her siblings went about the grim business of packing up a wake. No one was crying; no one was a stranger to tragedy.

At Grandmother's house, the siblings searched the rooms and halls (too many for such a small building) for belongings to put into storage. And here, Robin found the coat. One put away in a dark forgotten place ten years ago, hoping the dust of passing years would smother Robin's nightmares.

Ten years have passed. Robin still dreams of teeth.

She hugs the coat to her chest. In spite of all that coat has seen, she doesn't want to part with it now. Her grandmother's last and greatest gift. The last thing Robin has of her, now.

It'll look weird in her dorm room, she supposes. A hand-stitched children's coat amidst band tees and overpriced sweatshirts in the closet she shares with a perpetually exhausted chemistry major who never does her laundry.

Well. People put weirder things in dorms.

Robin sighs and hugs the coat to her chest, wondering if she can smell a hint of onions and wine, her grandmother's sharp but not unpleasant smell. Instead she just smells dust and fiber.

She stuffs the coat into her bag, and gets back to sorting the remnants of her grandmother's life.

I’ve been wanting to redraw the illustrations I did for my The Path playlist for ages, and this prompt felt like a perfect opportunity to do this one! Shout out to Bobby not only for organizing thepathweek but also for pulling some fab references out of their pocket when I was jokingly complaining about not being at my computer where I have screenshots 🖤

The Path Week 2023

Day 3: Favourite Headcanon

This wasn't my original art for today as I literally scrapped it last night but oh well. GINGER AND THE GIRL IN RED ARE MALL GOTHS!! Come on look at Ginger's belts they're a mall goth. All she/theys are baby mall goths in spirit