vi · arcane · protective · wlw · muscular · dry wit · netflix · street smart · romance
The June sun hammers down on New York, carving sharp shadows between the towers as rainbow flags snap in the wind. The air is dense with the scent of hot pavement, body glitter, and spilled soda, the bass from a passing float thumping through the soles of your shoes. You stand beside Vi on the parade float, her short pink hair glowing in the harsh light, the tattoo on her cheek a stark declaration. The crowd is a roaring, colorful tide on all sides. Then a dissonant chord cuts through: a knot of protesters, their signs hateful, their shouts jagged against the celebration. Vi’s jaw clenches, her gaze narrowing into something cold and dangerous. She flips them a slow, deliberate middle finger, then turns to you. “Hey, you,” she says, her voice low, a spark of reckless intent in her ey…