"Is BoNNie BlUe Or pUrpLE??Âż?" He's indigo you fucking morons. Bonnie is INDIGO. The I in ROYGBIV. The color EVERYONE forgets about. INDIGO.
Give indigo more love, stop forgetting it.

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"Is BoNNie BlUe Or pUrpLE??Âż?" He's indigo you fucking morons. Bonnie is INDIGO. The I in ROYGBIV. The color EVERYONE forgets about. INDIGO.
Give indigo more love, stop forgetting it.

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Location: Foxhole Court Date: Friday, October 3 Time: Evening (openâ)
Indigo's not one to complain about a night off from practiceâbut having to spend the night preparing for the banquet instead of running drills isn't some great improvement. At least Exy practice she doesn't require climbing ladders to hang orange streamers, keeping an eye out for Parker in case she seizes the opportunity to, like, make Indigo fall from a height or whatever.
And, whatever they do tonight, it's not like it'll matter. All the teams will roll in tomorrow, and they'll be just as asshole-ish as they are when they're meeting up on opposing sides of the center court line. They'll be just as sure that they're better than the Foxes, and they won't be exactly wrong. A room full of Exy teams is just a room full of teams that have kicked the Foxes' assâwell, with the exception of the Southern Eagles.
And it's not like Indigo cares about what a bunch of sweaty jocks think, but it does make it difficult to feel any amount of excitement for the night to come. She's got a whole outfit picked out, and she's not fooling herself into thinking that anyone's going to appreciate it other than her.
"When do you think we say we've done enough?" She says, aware that she's most of the way to whining as the evening has stretched on and the court has gotten progressively more decked out in orange. "It's all kind of hideous, so I think we've got to be just about there."
fixing up a new vtuber model because my old one crashed and burned with the hard drive last year, sooooo-
i'm gonna definitely, DEFINITELY stream this year for sure. make this new year's resolution REAL
CHOQUE Â CON THORAN, INDIGO y ZENKOÂ đ Â subsuelo c.
los espejos sin lugar a duda era el peor nivel de todos, obligĂĄndolo a caminar con la mirada baja todo el tiempo al no soportar su propio reflejo. todo el tiempo persiguiĂ©ndolo, mirĂĄndolo de vuelta. lo detestaba. estaba concentrado en caminar la mirada puesta en la punta de sus zapatos que no se da cuenta cuando termina chocando con otra silueta haciĂ©ndolo perder el equilibrio.  â lo siento, no te vi. â  se disculpa aĂșn con mirada baja, sosteniĂ©ndose de uno de los espejos con su codo, todavĂa sin levantar la cabeza.  (  @thorvnâ @indgosâ @zcnkkoâ ) Â
 @absclutcââââ e cheshire estĂŁo dançando valsa no EXPRESSO POLAR
De tudo o que Cheshire estava vendo naquele mundo novo, colorido e com suspensĂŁo da realidade o suficiente para que ele pudesse respirar em meio Ă chatice de Storybrooke, a valsa era a coisa que parecia mais... Normal. Pessoas dançando lentas uma com a outra ele jĂĄ viu de monte-- inclusive, at~e em Wonderland, naqueles bailes que as rainhas gostavam de dar. Ele prĂłprio nunca fora um grande especialista, sua forma gatuna muito mais ligeira para observar os outros que qualquer outra coisa. Talvez fosse aquele o motivo que o levou a pisar para dentro do salĂŁo: Nostalgia misturado a uma vontade de participar daquilo pela primeira vez. Ainda curioso e incerto, sorriu largo quando reconheceu uma figura dentre os rostos. Ah, agora sim, estava perfeito. ââ â- Absolem, que coincidĂȘncia te ver por aqui. JĂĄ te falei que essa sua nova forma Ă© perfeita pra dançar? ââ atĂ© chegou a oferecĂȘ-la uma mĂŁo, mas Cheshire nĂŁo era o maior conhecido por sua enorme paciĂȘncia, entĂŁo ficou a chacoalhando na direção dela tĂ© que a pegasse. Mal a conhecida de longa data aceitou o convite, ele logo se aproximou para pousar a mĂŁo livre na cintura da figura de Indigo, começando a conduzi-la ao som da valsa que se iniciava. Infelizmente, Cheshire nĂŁo era o melhor dos bailarinos, mas, ao menos, esforçava-se para nĂŁo ser terrĂvel enquanto conversava com a Lagarta. ââ â- Faz tempo que nĂŁo te vejo. EstĂĄ gostando da festa? ââ

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Location: Team Retreat Date: Friday, August 20th Time: Evening (open) Â Â
Indigoâs on her third year as a Fox, and she doesnât know why this is the year Wymackâs decided to pull a fast one on them, turning the weekend that should have been their last hurrah before the schoolyear and the season officially started into some kind of summer camp.Â
Indigo doesnât hate the great outdoors, but this isnât exactly a beach in the Pacific, or a safari in Africa. This is South Carolina at the tail end of the summer. Itâs humid, there are mosquitoes, and tomorrow Indigoâs going to have to do trust falls. It sounds like torture.Â
And Indigo didnât exactly go to summer camp, but she did go to boarding school. Sheâs been sleeping in shitty dorms for years, even when you would have thought that the exorbitant tuition costs her parents paid would have gotten her something nicer. Her boarding school even had a lake to be picturesque on the front of all of their brochures, though in reality it was mostly used to get drunk next to after sneaking out from under the watchful eyes of their dorm parents.Â
Going to college from that felt mostly like a lateral move. Going from college to this for a weekend feels like a step down.Â
Theyâve barely arrived, but Indigoâs gotten enough of a look at their accommodations to know that sheâs not exactly psyched for the rest of the weekend, and the promise of a bonfire and sâmores isnât exactly changing her mind.Â
âDo you think, if we make a break for it now, we could hitchhike back to society?â She says. âIâm pretty sure this counts as cruel and unusual punishment, and we havenât even lost a game yet.âÂ
Location: Bowling Alley Date: Saturday, May 1st Time: Evening (openâ) Â
She canât remember the last time she went bowling.Â
If she had to choose how to spend her Friday night, it wouldnât be chucking balls at pinsâ(if you asked her, she spent enough time playing with balls at practice)âwhile wearing ugly shoes that had been on too many other peopleâs feet, but since itâs for Marleyâs birthday, she isnât going to complain.Â
Or, at least, she had noble intentions of not complaining, but then someone had the bright idea that because of their natural athleticism they should play without bumpers, and Indigo has had to spend round after round watching her ball go into the gutter and not into the pins at all.Â
The round isnât even over yet, and sheâs already feeling like a sore loser.Â
When itâs her turn again, she make a big show out of picking just the right ball, even though she doesnât really know the difference between any of them, before squaring herself towards the pins and half-heartedly telling herself that this time is the time she unlocks her inner bowling champion and gets a strike and makes everyone else on the team cry with jealousy, or whatever.Â
But, when she lets the ball go, itâs back in the gutter again. The stupid pin picker-upper thing still comes down, though, makes its little sweep like itâs mocking her, and then itâs someone elseâs turn.
âI forfeit,â she says with a groan, dropping back onto the plastic bench to await her next round of torture, tipping her head up towards the ceiling so she doesnât have to watch someone be better than her at bowling. âThis is rigged, or something, Itâs a conspiracy. How the fuck is bowling so hard?â