#h&c

H&C currently vibe/connection

(Also not implying anything, this spread was about their friendship)

#dontattackmeimjustreadingcards

Tarot:

The spread opens with The Magician, and right away, I feel this intense energy of manifestation and mental communication.

The Magician is followed by the Four of Swords and The Death card. I can see there was a necessary distance between them. My intuition says that it was mostly physical rather than emotional.

They needed this distance to let Death take over and do its work. I feel them surrendering to this transformation, letting go of old, toxic patterns and outdated ways of relating. The connection is shed of its old skin because it is evolving into something much more mature, stable, and grounded. This also means that someone, or both of them, are leaving their past behind.

Then, the Two of Pentacles comes in, and I can instantly see the reality of their daily lives. They are caught in a frantic juggling act, trying to balance a million things at once, and honestly, a lot of this is just down to their chaotic work schedules! But on a deeper level, they are also trying to balance their public connection with their private sphere. They are keeping their bond protected and hidden away from the outside world, like The Hermit, which I see clarified by The World right underneath. There is a physical distance between them right now, but they are fiercely guarding their intimacy.

The Pope (The Hierophant) appears here to reinforce exactly what I felt before: this connection is stepping away from the superficial. It is evolving into something sacred, traditional, and incredibly stable. They are building a real foundation based on mutual respect.

Finally, the spread ends triumphantly with The World, another major arcana. To me, this card screams that H and C share a deeply karmic connection. It reinforces the idea that they are becoming completely stable and perfectly aligned. A heavy, painful cycle is officially ending here.

Sibille: Denari - Casa - Sacerdote - La reunione

It starts with Denari (Money/Resources), which represents the material foundation, the hard work, and the stability they've been trying to balance. This concrete stability flows directly into Casa (Home), a safe haven. This could also mean that they feel at home with each other.

This aspiration is then blessed by the Sacerdote (The Priest), who acts as a mirror to The Pope, bringing wise guidance, deep emotional maturity, and spiritual protection. It ends with “La Riunione” meaning that they would eventually meet up again soon.

Lenormand: 🐶 -> 🐻->🛳️

In Lenormand, Dog is all about loyalty, trust, and a stable emotional bond, like dogs themselves, it shows consistency and devotion within the connection. The Bear adds strength and protection, but it can also point toward work, responsibilities, and demanding schedules. That makes sense here, especially if their current distance is being caused by career or time constraints. With Ship at the end, the reading leans heavily into movement and separation, but not necessarily in a negative way. it suggests the connection continues evolving and growing despite the distance.

Can anyone join the H&C discord server?

Omg.

FIRST) yes, basically, as long as you ship SSHG and aren’t a giant douchecanoe (if you have to ask ‘is she talking about me?’ odds are yes! congratulations! you are the canoe)

Second) I am flattered you came to me to ask as I am just a little ol’ Q in a little ol’ corner of the web.

Third) @lhbeauty is our big honcho-mama (you can call her that, she loves it) and she can get you on the waiting list. Send her a DM and tell her Q sent you so I can have the proper tags on our very cool and completely updated flow chart. Don’t tag @turtlewexlerwrites to mention it, she already feels bad enough as it is.

4th) New friends join our very convoluted family tree (hi Uncle Kermie aka @destinyspoon ) every two weeks so there may be a wait. But lovebug, we are worth it.

5) What are your opinions on the following: Which way is the proper way to store your cups in the cupboard? Do you or do you not sleep with a top sheet? How do you prepare pigs in blankets? On a scale of 1-10 how do you rate your interest in weather chat? Do you like cats and are you okay having a Kitten Tower? Lastly, which toppings do you prefer on your pancakes? It’s not a big deal but there are right answers and wrong answers.

written last year as a cheer up ficlet for a friend

Before you even opened your eyes for the first time that day, you groaned into your pillow; your whole body ached, the pain flaring from several muscles you weren’t even aware you’d used that much the previous night. Who would have thought that a simple club concert would end with you straining your limbs to the point of this mess?

You tried to shift on the bed, maybe get up and get some water to help your throat stop feeling like a desert, but the moment you did, the soreness pulled at your body and you let out another pitiful groan.

An exasperated sigh came from behind you. “Do you have to make so much noise so early in the morning?”

“Hurts,” you grumbled, completely ignoring him. Normally, you’d roll his eyes at him or glare at him and tell him to shut it up—but right now you couldn’t even focus on that.

Sheets rustled on the other side of the bed with Shaw’s every move. He must have rolled over onto his side to face you since suddenly his body heat seemed to be closer.

...how could a guy doing his best to come off as cool and aloof be such an irresistible furnace, too?

He cooed at your pained noises and just for a second you thought maybe, maybe, he was going to drop the teasing, but when you heard his voice again, all you heard was, “And whose fault is that?”

Yours, you thought bitterly, clenching your teeth as you curled in on yourself—even though it wasn’t technically true. He could have shown you some sympathy, at least!

Gentle fingers ran through your hair, so softly you thought you were imagining it—but soon they slid down to your strained shoulder and stroked your skin in warm circles.

“You didn’t have to jump up and down the whole night,” he said in that melodic, teasing tone that wasn’t missing from his voice even on such early mornings.

“I couldn’t see the band.” You pouted as you felt yourself slowly relax.

Damn him; him and his damn hands.

His touch lessened and immediately your eyes shot open.

No, wait, keep going.

“That’s because you’re a shorty.” You could tell he was smirking when he said that. You would have commented on that, or shot a smart remark back, hadn’t it been for his hand starting to massage your back. He hummed, the sound even closer than before. “What does it matter that you couldn’t see them, anyway? It’s not like I was the one playing.”

You let out a soft sound as his fingers crept up to the nape of your neck and teased the spot that held the most tension from when you’d strained your neck last night trying to see over the dancing crowd.

Another sigh. “Just lie down.”

“I am—“ 

Before you could finish, Shaw snorted and pushed you onto your front with surprisingly gentle hands. “Now,” he drawled, the bed shifting under his weight as he moved; the mattress dipped on both sides of your thighs as he straddled you, yet no part of him apart from his hands touched you. “Tell me where it hurts and maybe I’ll do something about it.”

I just prefer escapism, thanks.

Characters who want to Do Better and TRY, characters who support eachother, characters who simply get to have comfort and healing and FUN. Landscapes and towns and structures that I just wanna lose myself while exploring. Let me have vibrancy and beauty both interpersonally and as the backdrop. Plot can coexist here, I promise.

But, okay. I admit it. I love it when a plan just fails horribly—especially when the characters did everything Right—and now they have to pick up the pieces, lick their wounds, and choose whether or not they even want to continue on. Maybe even do some introspection about WHY they’re doing this at all—what’s driving them—along with needing to take care of physical and emotional injuries.

And then they succeed by the end. The world’s better, but they’re not the same people as when they left—they’ve grown, and they have scars leftover from their journey, too.

And above all—the foundfam stays together. They’re still friends, still family, and sure maybe some of them have become couples or polyams or queerplatonics. But they’re still together, and harassing eachother over dinner at least once a week and more often than not end up in a cuddlepuddle from comfort via vulnerabilities or contentment after a night of peace and/or fun.

Snapril Day 21. Melt.

One-shot. Part 5 out of 7. No TWs.

Chapter Seven: Nocturne

Dearest Momo,

I wish we could have had more of a chance to catch up with each other today. I understand you have a busy schedule and some things take precedence over speaking with your parents. Would it work for you if I call sometime next week?

Regards,

Mother

Kyouka frowns down at Momo’s phone before handing it back to her. “It seems a little formal, I guess? But is it really that bad?”

“It’s terrible, Kyouka.” Momo falls back on her bed and presses her hands over her face. She continues, muffled, “She’s extremely upset with me.”

“Okay,” Kyouka says, slowly. Are all rich parents so weird, or just Momo’s?

“Regards,” Momo wails, fingers sliding up into her hair.

It’s rare for her own parents to get upset, never mind extremely upset, but she’s pretty sure it would involve some degree of actual emotional expression. Not a vaguely passive aggressive email from a disgruntled business associate. She’s out of her depth.

She sits on the edge of the bed, and Momo shifts over — making more room for her? Or putting space between them? No, she’s making room. They’ve talked about being direct with each other, and Momo doesn’t seem bothered by her being on the bed — it’s just the angry mom situation that’s got her worked up.

“And I haven’t even told them about the course I dropped,” Momo whispers, rolling onto her side, hands tucked under her cheek.

“Is that something you have to tell them?” Kyouka tilts her head. “I don’t think the school is allowed to inform them.”

“Really?”

“Yeah — I can’t remember why, but while I was back home, I asked my dad to call about my course registration.” She’d been sick, or something. “They wouldn’t even talk to him.”

“Well…” A crease appears between Momo’s brows, and Kyouka resists the sudden urge to reach over and smooth it out. “I still don’t think I can reasonably expect to hide it from them forever; I’ve never been a good liar. But at least I know they won’t be informed of it before I’m ready to have that conversation.”

“Yeah,” Kyouka says, because there’s not really much else to say about it.

As far as she can tell without actually having met them, Momo’s parents don’t seem to be emotionally neglectful or anything, they’re just a little stuffy and maybe overprotective. If Momo just tells them what an eight course schedule was doing to her physical and mental health, they’ll have to understand.

“I’m sorry,” Momo says, voice quiet. Her teeth worry at her lower lip, pearly white contrasting with pretty pink.

Wait— “Sorry for what?”

“It seems like you’re always the one supporting me while I fall apart for one reason or another.” She looks up at her through dark lashes.

Kyouka swallows.

Momo continues, “I don’t want you to feel like this is a one-sided friendship — I don’t want this to be a one-sided friendship.”

Shifting one knee farther onto the bed, Kyouka twists to face her more fully. “I mean, I agree with you, but I don’t...” She trails off. How to word this? “Even if you— just because you’re the one who needs more support right now, I don’t think that makes things one-sided.”

Momo just waits, still looking up at her with those big, dark eyes. God, she’s really fucking pretty. Kyouka’s chest aches.

“I guess— I feel like I know you well enough to know you would return the favor? Like if I did need help, for whatever reason.” She runs a fingernail along some stitching on Momo’s quilt. “Even if it weren’t, like, a crisis— like if I were just, I don’t know, feeling sad, or whatever. You’d do whatever you could to help.”

“Of course! Anyone would, wouldn’t they?” Momo pushes up onto an elbow. “Are you feeling sad?”

Is she? Maybe sad isn’t quite the right word. Melancholy. Bittersweet. Wistful. Yearning, if she wants to get really cheesy about it.

Momo’s fingers brushing against hers interrupts her journey through the thesaurus. “Do you— um. Would you like a hug, Kyouka?”

A hug. Of course she’d like a fucking hug. But…does this count as manipulation? Would it be so wrong to say yes?

“Do you want to give me one?” She asks, heart in her throat — because she’s ridiculous. Completely absurd. Why does it feel like this matters so much? It’s just a hug. If Momo wants to hug her, who is she to protest? That would just be hurtful and unnecessary.

Momo pats the bed next to her.

Oh god. Oh god oh fuck. What is— she’s in way over her head.

“Is this okay?” That crease between Momo’s brows is back. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. Are there… rules? Since, you know, since you— Since you like girls. Is this a faux pas?”

Kyouka shakes her head quickly. “No rules.” Momo’s face transforms into pure relief so fast, she can’t help but laugh. “Oh wait, I always forget the one rule for all the gays — hugging is strictly forbidden.”

Momo rolls her eyes but her lips curve into a hint of a smile. “The lesbian police are coming for me now?”

“We should make the best of our remaining time together,” Kyouka says, and maybe a little too much sincerity creeps into her voice.

It’s just a hug. Friends hug each other sometimes. She’s not crossing a boundary.

She lies down, and Momo’s arms envelop her, pulling her to her chest, and— just a hug, yeah, no — this is Heaven on Earth. Just a hug. Just a hug. Jesus, she’s an idiot. There’s no going back after knowing what this feels like, all warm and snuggly and perfect, and Momo smells so nice.

Momo’s arms around her squeeze just the perfect amount — not so much that she feels like it would be difficult to push away, but enough that she’s drawn in against her. Her own arms find their way around Momo’s waist, her cheek presses into Momo’s shoulder, which is also comfortable — how can one person be so comfortable everywhere? — and she lets her eyes flutter closed.

This is the textbook definition of a really good hug — no, not just a really good hug; Momo’s the definition of someone who gives really good hugs. Eijirou gives good hugs, but he’s rock solid; there’s no way he could pull off this level of comfy.

She sighs softly, and snuggles closer. Momo doesn’t seem to mind.

Momo hums thoughtfully, and it resonates through her chest. “This is really nice,” she says.

“Yeah,” Kyouka breathes. “Really nice.”

It was a long day mini-golfing in the sun. Maybe she’ll just rest here…for a little while. Just for a bit.

Read the rest of the chapter on Ao3