#rails girls summer of code

[pollka1]

Can't take my eyes off of you

Summary — Josh goes to Sam's Halloween party and gets some unexpected feelings

Genre — Romance, fluff

Characters — Chris Hartley, Josh Washington, Sam Giddings

Warnings — None

Character speech is NOT colour coded for this fic

The party was already alive when Josh arrived. Costumes flashed under string lights, music thumped through the floorboards of the old cabin, and the smell of candy, cider, and fake blood hung in the air. Sam had done a good job putting this whole thing together—it had her vibe all over it: spooky but fun, chaotic but welcoming.

Josh adjusted the golden sash around his Egyptian costume, awkwardly nudging the pharaoh headdress back into place. Hannah and Beth had convinced him it looked cool. He thought he looked more like a gold-wrapped burrito.

Still, he’d come. Because Sam had invited him and his sisters.

He spotted her across the room, laughing with Emily and Ashley. Her hair was in two braids, and she wore a leather jacket over what looked like a Lara Croft-style outfit. She looked strong. Confident. Effortlessly her.

“Hey, Pharaoh!” she called, catching sight of him. “You finally made it!”

Josh smirked, walking up and giving a mock bow. “At your service, Lara Croft.”

Sam rolled her eyes with a smile. “Cute. You even put on eyeliner. Gotta respect the commitment.”

“It was either that or Hannah telling me I ‘don’t understand Egyptian culture,’” he said, quoting her exaggeratedly. “I wasn’t about to get schooled by her again.”

Sam laughed and handed him a cup of cider. “Good call. She can be brutal.”

They drifted toward the back porch, away from the crowd. The music softened out there. The air was cool, crisp with early-fall sharpness. Josh leaned against the railing and took a sip of cider.

“I’m glad you came,” Sam said, looking up at him.

He nodded. “Me too.”

Sam looked at him knowingly. “Still worried about college stuff?”

Josh blinked. “Yeah. Among other things.”

She didn’t push. That’s what Josh liked about her. Sam always gave space, never tried to fix things—just stood beside you when you needed her there.

“I think you’ll be okay,” she said softly. “You’re smart, you just…you carry a lot. You hide it well, though.”

Josh turned toward her, and for the first time, really looked at her. Her eyes had a kind of warmth most people didn’t. Like she genuinely meant what she said.

He opened his mouth to make a joke. Something dumb. Something easy.

But nothing came out.

The porch light caught her face just right, and his chest tightened. Not in that heavy way he was used to, the weight of guilt or anxiety. This was lighter. Confusing. A little electric.

He was used to people talking at him. Not many talked to him like she did. No one saw him like she did.

It hit him all at once: I like her.

And not in the vague, flirty way he usually dealt with girls. Not like the summer crushes or the “maybe we’ll hook up” thoughts. This was different. Grounded. Real.

“Hey, you okay?” Sam asked, nudging his shoulder. “You kinda spaced out.”

Josh blinked again, smiling a little. “Yeah. Just...thinking.”

“About what?”

He hesitated. Then said, “How this night might be my favorite Halloween yet.”

Sam grinned. “That’s good to hear.”

“Yeah,” he said, almost to himself. “It really is.”

And in that moment, with the cold air curling around them and the music thudding gently behind the door, Josh realized he was completely doomed.

...

The sudden change in music had the room tilting sideways—emotionally, anyway.

The Halloween playlist of bass-heavy remixes and novelty monster anthems gave way to...piano? Soft. Slow. Very much not Halloween party vibes.

Josh blinked.

“Did Jess hijack the speaker?” Sam asked, turning toward the source of the music with an amused grin.

“Guaranteed,” Josh said. “If she starts narrating it like a soap opera, I’m leaving.”

Chris, who had been nursing a drink and repeatedly not looking at Ashley, suddenly appeared at Josh’s side like he’d teleported. He was wide-eyed. Nervous. And clearly on the verge of cardiac arrest.

“I—uh—I think this is my shot,” he stammered.

Josh blinked. “What?”

Chris pointed frantically toward Ashley, who was leaning against the couch, humming along absently to the music. “Ashley likes this kind of music. This is—it’s fate or something. I should ask her to dance, right? Like, now?”

“Do it,” Sam said, already pushing his shoulder.

Chris balked. “I can’t! I mean—I haven’t practiced. I could trip. My palms are sweaty. My soul might exit my body mid-spin—”

“Dude,” Josh cut in, grinning. “You’re spiraling.”

Sam grabbed Chris’s hand and mock-spun him in a sloppy little twirl. “If I can dance with a complete idiot like Josh, you can definitely dance with Ashley.”

“Hey,” Josh muttered. “Rude.”

Chris groaned, clearly panicking. “What do I say? Should I compliment her costume? Her hair? What if I black out mid-sentence and start quoting game lines again?”

“You’re not proposing, dude. Just offer a hand and smile. You do know how to smile, right?” Josh teased.

Chris hesitated.

Then Sam stepped behind him and shoved him—gently, but firmly—in Ashley’s direction. “Go, Romeo.”

Josh threw up his arms like a game show host. “You’ve got this! Worst-case scenario, she thinks you’re endearing.”

Chris turned, eyes huge. “You guys suck.”

Then he inhaled sharply and started walking across the room, stiff as a board, like he was approaching a lion.

Josh and Sam watched with matching smirks.

“I give him three steps before he trips,” Sam said.

Josh shook his head, chuckling. “I give him four, but he pulls it off anyway.”

They stood there, side by side, watching their awkward friend finally cross the bridge he'd been too scared to take for months.

And when Ashley smiled and took his hand, swaying with him to the cheesy slow track Jess had queued up, Sam looked over at Josh with a grin that melted his ribs a little.

“You know,” she said, “I think you’re not the only one full of surprises tonight.”

Josh looked at her, heart warm and face soft. “What can I say? Halloween’s magic.”

Josh watched as Sam was swaying a little in place, arms crossed, clearly trying to act like she wasn’t watching them too closely.

Josh elbowed her gently. “So. Since the slow music revolution is clearly here…care to humiliate yourself on the dance floor with me?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Humiliate myself? I think you’re confusing me with your Egyptian Pharaoh cosplay.”

Josh dramatically adjusted his golden collar. “You wound me, Ramsey.”

She snorted. “Did you just reference Night at the Museum?”

“Look, if I’m going to be a historical ruler, I’m going all in.” He extended a hand with the flair of a theatre kid. “Come, brave adventurer. Dance with a God.”

Sam stared at his hand, lips twitching, then gave in. “Only because I want to see you try to keep rhythm.”

Josh led her to the open space in the middle of the room. No one else was paying attention. Which was perfect.

Their hands found each other—awkward at first, fumbling like teenagers at prom—and Sam immediately stepped on his foot.

“Shoot—sorry!” she gasped.

Josh clutched his heart. “My royal toe!”

She laughed, steadying them. “Alright, alright. Less flair. More feet awareness.”

They settled into a slow sway, but it wasn’t graceful. Josh tried to twirl her once and almost elbowed a lamp. Sam giggled so hard she snorted.

“I feel like I’m dancing in a high school musical number,” she said through her laughter.

Josh leaned in slightly, whispering, “We just need dramatic lighting and a wind machine.”

“I think Jess is the wind machine. She’s waving a plate at us.”

Sure enough, Jess was fanning them from the couch with a plastic jack-o-lantern dish and mouthing, You’re welcome.

Josh chuckled, meeting Sam’s eyes. “You know, for all the chaos, this is kinda nice.”

She nodded, her expression softening. “Yeah. Surprisingly not terrible.”

A beat passed. They swayed, just a little closer now, letting the silliness settle into something quieter—but still light.

Then Josh smirked again. “Okay, but admit it. You’re impressed by my dancing.”

Sam blinked. “You mean the way you just tried to moonwalk during a slow song?”

“It was a bold choice,” he said, dead serious.

“It was a crime against humanity.”

They were mid-spin—well, more like mid-shuffle—when Chris came practically bounding toward them from the other side of the room, looking like he’d just been proposed to and punched in the face all at once.

“You guys—you guys—I did it!” he gasped, breathless.

Sam and Josh stopped dancing, startled.

Chris clutched his chest dramatically. “I asked Ashley to dance. She said yes. She smiled at me. She touched my arm.”

Josh raised an eyebrow. “Wait. Are you telling me you left her...mid-dance...to run over here and tell us?”

Chris blinked. “Well, yeah. I needed to debrief!”

Sam put her hands on her hips. “Chris. Christopher. You abandoned your own slow dance.”

Josh pointed toward the couch. “You just broke the sacred trust of the Slow Dance Pact.”

Chris blinked again, realization dawning. “Crap.”

Sam laughed. “You had one job!”

Josh grinned. “One moment of romantic triumph and you ran off like a golden retriever with a stick.”

Chris turned on his heel. “I’m going back! I’m salvaging this! If I’m not married by morning, it’s your fault!”

As he sprinted off, Josh leaned toward Sam. “I give it two minutes before he asks her if she wants to build a Lego Millennium Falcon together.”

Sam smirked. “That’s probably the most Chris thing he could say.”

They both burst into quiet laughter again, drifting back into their makeshift dancing spot, the Halloween lights twinkling overhead.

Josh held out his hand once more. “Now...where were we, Miss Croft?”

Sam took it without hesitation. “Somewhere between disaster and adorable.”

He smiled. “Perfect.”

The soft, cheesy notes of the slow dance track started up again—because apparently Jess had set it to repeat—Sam and Josh swayed gently, both of them slightly offbeat and more than okay with it.

“I feel like we’ve been dancing for hours,” Sam muttered, her chin resting near Josh’s shoulder.

Josh grinned. “What, you’re not impressed by my ancient Egyptian stamina?”

She snorted. “Your bandages are unraveling.”

“You wound me,” he gasped dramatically, then realized, “Okay, actually don’t do that. This costume has zero support and I don’t trust Mike not to throw ketchup packets as ‘sacrificial blood.’”

Across the room, Chris had made it back to Ashley, who was giggling as he tripped over his own feet trying to bow like a Victorian gentleman. The group was mellowing out now, still laughing, some sipping drinks, others crashed on beanbags.

Josh looked around, his arm still wrapped loosely around Sam. “You know,” he said softly, “this party doesn’t suck.”

Sam smiled. “Is that your way of saying you’re having fun?”

He pretended to think. “I’m saying the music’s weird, the fog machine smells like burnt plastic, and there’s something incredibly cursed about a dancing inflatable skeleton in the kitchen. But yeah. I’m having fun.”

She leaned back to look at him. “You know what that means, right?”

Josh raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You’re officially one of us.”

He laughed. “I’ve always been one of you.”

“Yeah,” she said, softer now. “But this is the first time you let yourself be.”

Josh blinked, caught off guard—but Sam had already pulled him close again, resting her head against him, humming along to the music. For once, the teasing quieted. For once, everything felt just warm.

[two-birds-alone-together]

✨EoY Bookends Game✨

Rules: Snip first and last line/paragraph/section/artwork you created this year - bookends, if you will 💖 and don't forget to tag some friends! I've taken first and last to mean first and last posted for myself but you do you and pull from wips if you want!

Thank you @dancingonmoonbeams for tagging me!!

First words posted: amidst the chaos, Chapter 7: June (Part III)

When he wakes on Father’s Day, it’s to a very sore body and a very sleepy kid. Joel never realized the National Mall was so damn long. They only traipsed the length of it six times yesterday and his phone kept congratulating him on moving more than usual. The miles covered meant they hit most of the Smithsonian museums, and he figures they can spend some time out at Arlington National Cemetery today.

First, though. Breakfast.

Last words written: untitled modern AU WIP I literally started today

Joel Miller makes a point to check the exterior and lobby security feeds several times a day, but he doesn’t look at the interior feeds unless there’s a problem.  His job is to keep the building running and the tenants happy, not his job to monitor who comes and goes.

That being said, he’s sitting in front of his computer, monitoring who comes and goes.  More specifically, he’s trying to figure out where the hell the kid in the laundry room came from.  The machines are coin-operated relics most residents avoid in favor of pick-up and delivery service.

He only noticed the mystery girl because he’s one of the poor schlubs who bother to wash their own damn clothes.

It’s the third evening in a row he’s gone do laundry, and it’s the third time he’s seen the kid wedged into the back corner with a ragged backpack and even more ragged clothes.  Since he has no desire to confront her in an empty basement, Joel scrolls through today’s feeds.  She enters the building at 3:03:01 and exits the stairwell at 3:04:08 p.m., heading straight for the laundry room.  He fasts forward through the footage, frown deepening as she sits without moving — no homework, no phone, no entertainment at all as far as he can see.

Joel pulls his chair closer to the screen, leaning in to get a better look.  The girl can’t be more than thirteen, thin as a rail with hair pulled into a messy ponytail. Despite the early summer heat, she wears a t-shirt layered over a long-sleeved shirt, and she’s got this hyper-aware way of sitting that suggests she’s used to watching her back.

With a sigh, he opens the live feed in one window and the lobby footage in another.  There’s no sign of her leaving the building this morning.  Hell, there’s no sign of her leaving the building yesterday or the day before, nor of her in the hallways.

What he’d love to know is how she got the code for the outer door and a key to the interior one.

He should call someone.  Social services. The cops. Something. Instead he takes a deep breath and stands, wincing when a sharp pain bolts through his lower back.  After a moment of deliberation, Joel grabs his dirty clothes and traipes downstairs. The girl either doesn’t hear him or doesn’t care about his presence because she doesn’t move a muscle when he steps over the threshold.

“This is private property.”

Her head snaps up, eyes narrowed as her lips curl into a snarl.  “No shit? I thought this was a fucking public park.”

Joel levels a glare at the kid as he loads the machine.  “It ain’t. These machines are for residents, not runaways.”

“I’m not a fucking runaway,” she snaps, squaring her shoulders and drawing her backpack closer.  “And I am a resident. Kid of the week for the Jenkins.”

“And the Jenkins have you down here doin’ laundry after school every day?” he asks with incredulity.

She glances around the room, a uniquely teenage disdain in her expression as she surveys the silent machines.  “Obviously.”

[astrummorte-m]

kingscyrus replied: .............. give me the stats, I WANNA KNOW. LMAFO

if you say so, my guy (gnc)

tumblr blog #1, astrummorte:

mostly ocs, though the ones that are of note for my canons are yae miko, xemnas, diluc, dottore, kaeya, sora, roxas, kafka, aqua, ardyn izunia, paimon, man in the moon / manny, cloud strife, nicholas d. wolfwood, kaveh, and boothill.

tumblr blog #2, corfolli:

these r literally ALL OF MY NEAR CANON CHARACTERS. like. adherence to guidelines and rules and codes alike. aside from my bg3 characters, who follow a weird timeline <3. that being said, ezio auditore de firenze, gale dekarios, wyllyam ravengard, halsin silverbough, high harper jaheira, vax'ildan vessar, keyleth of the air ashari, ren amamiya, and futaba sakura.

tumblr blog #3, betonrcd: my super canon divergent aventurine of strategems, from honkai star rail. he has a pet kitten and is adoptive family of decima sangsters (novastrae) and my kaveh's hsr verse.

tumblr blog #4, tenarcana: my BIG GUY. my LOVE. the one who DESERVES THE WORLD. my longest term oc from a canon character, kairos rian serif. please bug him i beg of you

tumblr blog #5, foughtbelief: my kh dnd dmpc that i was "forced" to make tag along because my FUCKING PARTY got attached to him :sadge:. he's just a little guy your honor

tumblr blog #6, carrusidae: god/deity of youth, joy, revelry, and laughter. simple blog, meant for only lightheartedness.

tumblr blog #7, spellwound: bg3 tav made complicated w time travel and messing with the d20 of the universe babey

tumblr blog #8, memorieskept: buncha my ocs in one spot whenever i wanna mess w them tbh

tumblr blog #9, whcnimdone: self insert bg3 tav. uwu

tumblr blog #10, vcltaic: MY BELOVED VILLAIN HSR OC love that evil horrible woman who is evil for a good reason <3

tumblr blog #11, memenatura: my ffxiv wol oc whomst i love dearly

as for discord~ oh gosh. okay. let's go.

final fantasy series: cid highwind (ff7), aerith gainsborough (ff7), sephiroth (im recognized by this guy dont fucking talk to me dog), tidus (ff10) , yuna (ff10), lulu (ff10), fran (ff12), lightning (ff13), fang (ff13), vanille (ff13), noel (ff13-2)

kingdom hearts series: riku, marluxia, kairi (briefly), foreteller ava, ephemer, strelitzia, xion, namine (briefly), ventus (briefly)

pokemon series: lots of protags, but. u know. touko (bw), n (bw; briefly), kris (crystal), the jp manga version of blue (the girl, not the rival. the one who fucking hates birds), dawn (dpp), cynthia (dpp), summer (pr:gs), emmet (bw2/post-loa), rosa (bw2), blanche (p!go), selene (sm/usum), nessa (swsh; briefly)

a lot more??????? there's. i'm everywhere, man.

gonna be real with you dog, thinking about this made my head hurt. /lh

[zylophie]

PROFILE PAGE☆

ᵎᵎ 📳 modena🎨 is calling.. | ฅ(•ㅅ•❀)ฅ

꒷꒦︶︶⬩ ︶꒦꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶⬩︶︶꒦꒷

​​ModEna🎨

Hai I’m Ena but my name is Mango!

୨♡୧ Pronouns:

❅ She/They

୨♡୧ Age:

❅ 12-16

୨♡୧ Hobbies:

❅ Drawing, Writing, Making bracelets, baking

୨♡୧ Specialty (chars you write well for):

❅ Tsukasa (probs add more later)

୨♡୧ Favourite food :

❅ sabritones or hot fries :3

୨♡୧ Least Favourite food :

❅ Many pastas (love alfredo doe)

୨♡୧ Favourite Color :

❅ Pink

୨♡୧ Favourite PJSK character :

❅ Tsukasa + all nightcord chars!

୨♡୧ Characters I Kin :

❅ Misturi (KNY), Himari (Doughnuts under a cresent moon), Mei (Turning Red)

୨♡୧ Genre tastes :

❅ Fluff, Angst

୨♡୧ Fav music :

❅ Rock, J-pop, K-pop, pop

୨♡୧ Fav mangas :

❅ Doughnuts under a Crescent Moon, The Summer You Were There, KNY

ᵎᵎ 📳 modmafuyu🎼 is calling... | ฅ(•ㅅ•❀)ฅ

꒷꒦︶︶⬩ ︶꒦꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶⬩︶︶꒦꒷

ModMafuyu🎼

Hi-nya𝅘𝅥𝅮 I'm Mod Mafuyu, otherwise known as 'X'!

୨♡୧ Pronouns :

❅ She/her

୨♡୧ Age:

❅ 16

୨♡୧ Hobbies :

❅ Gaming, Baking, Drawing & Singing

୨♡୧ Specialty(which character you write especially well for) :

❅ Nene + All of N25

୨♡୧ Favourite food :

❅ Soba + Salmon + Ice-cream!

୨♡୧ Least Favourite food :

❅ Spicy food

୨♡୧ Favourite Color :

❅ Purple and Blues~

୨♡୧ Favourite PJSK character :

❅ Nene and Mafuyu

୨♡୧ Characters I kin(Top 3) :

❅ I kin a lot of people, however I do think my highest kins are Nene, Ena and either Mizuki/Honami

୨♡୧ Genre tastes :

❅ Horror, Thriller, Fantasy and especially mystery!! I like anything sad too/hj

୨♡୧ Music :

❅ Pop, C-pop, J-pop

୨♡୧ Fav music artists :

❅ Roan Lee, Miori Celesta, Nerissa Ravencroft, Rachie, PinocchioP, DECO*27, Hachi and Ado. I love too many.

୨♡୧ Fav Animes :

❅ Kimetsu no Yaiba, No Game No Life, Gakkou Gurashi! And Mieruko-chan

୨♡୧ Fav Games :

❅ Genshin Impact, Path to Nowhere, Reverse 1999, Tears of Themis, PJSK

୨♡୧ Funfacts :

❅ I am formally known as 'Xilyks' on tumblr. I went on hiatus for exams but when I came back I was more interested in PJSK. Then I thought 'why not kidnap some friends to write with me?'' If you were an old follower of mine. Hello!<3

ᵎᵎ 📳 modmizuki⛩️ is calling... | ฅ(•ㅅ•❀)ฅ

꒷꒦︶︶⬩ ︶꒦꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶⬩︶︶꒦꒷

ModMizuki⛩️

(｡･ω･)ﾉﾞ Hello

hii hii!!, I'm Mod Mizuki! I'm also known as "Yue" nice to meet youuu !! (*ﾟ▽ﾟ)ﾉ

୨♡୧ Pronouns :

❅ She/her

୨♡୧ Age:

❅ 20+

୨♡୧ Hobbies :

❅ Gaming, Writing, Reading & Listening to Music

୨♡୧ Specialty(which character you write especially well for) :

❅ Mostly male characters but I can do some girl ones if I want to be... creative enough (･∀･)

୨♡୧ Favourite food :

❅ Spicy Foods, Noodles, Fries and Waffles

୨♡୧ Least Favourite food :

❅ Vegetables (funny enough, my code color is green) ( ﾟ∀ﾟ)ｱﾊﾊ

୨♡୧ Favourite Color :

❅ Purple, White, Blue and Light Green

୨♡୧ Favourite PJSK character :

❅ Toya, Rui, An & Shizuku

୨♡୧ Characters I kin(Top 3) :

❅ Honestly, I like everyone equally but hmm...I think my top kin is probably Rui, Touya and either Nene/Kohane

୨♡୧ Genre tastes :

❅ Pop Music, Rock & Jazz

୨♡୧ Fav music artists :

❅ Reol, Eve, Aimer, Milet, Give Heart Records & Amalee

୨♡୧ Fav Animes:

❅ Haikyuu!!, MHA, KNY, The Rising Of The Shield Hero & Jujutsu Kaisen

୨♡୧ Fav Games :

❅ Genshin impact, Honkai Star Rail, Tears of Themis, Ensemble Stars, Reverse: 1999, Xenoblade Chronicles 2&3, Persona 4&5 and Fire Emblem Three Houses

୨♡୧ Fun Facts :

❅ I start writing at the age of 12 so I'm constantly trying to find a way to improve my writing skills!

❅ I named myself as yue which is like the front face for darker and unhingedness side of me which happened often, yui for my cheesy and daydreamer part and yua for my rambling writer personality...did you notice only one letter is changed?

❅ I absolutely love folklores especially japanese folklores!! You might see a lot of references to those folklore in the future!

❅ I'm the graphic designer for those banners and headers you see here and no I don't have an degree for it but I start editing when I was still using wattpad! I'm also the editor for this blog, I want to make the blog look appealing and easy for you to navigate through!

❅ X actually kidnapped me into working together with her and mango (they are my precious friends 💕) when I was telling her one of my stories draft and that's where we are now~

❅ I mostly write yandere as less violent as most yandere that being portrayed as most bloody and unhinged killers on the media, it's meaning of the term, yan is sick and dere is love then you get lovesick! I want to be unique and tried to match the yandere traits with the existing personality of the character so I hope you enjoy my stories~

[amberchristinalohan]

Written in the Water

I’ve always been a water person. Not in the competitive swimmer sense or the “owns a boat and spends weekends on a lake” kind of way. More like…I find peace by rivers, I feel understood by rain, and I swear the ocean can tell when I’m sad. It’s a Cancer thing, I guess. We’re ruled by the moon and moods and tides. And yes, if you’re wondering, I am absolutely one of those people who reads their horoscope before getting out of bed.

Every. Single. Morning.

This morning was no different. Well, maybe a little different, because last night I dreamed about you.

Again.

It wasn’t anything particularly dramatic. We weren’t getting married on a clifftop or riding a tandem bike through Paris. You were just sitting next to me on a beach, our hands buried in the sand, watching the waves. You said something about how some people are like storms and some are like the sea. I woke up before I could ask which one you thought I was.

Anyway, back to this morning.

I reached for my phone, bleary-eyed, and opened my astrology app like it was some kind of sacred daily ritual. I scrolled to my sign, half-dreading, half-hopeful for whatever the universe had cooked up for me today.

Cancer horoscope today: Your heart has always been your guide, but today, you’ll need to listen closely. A small gesture could lead to a much bigger story. Someone around you feels what you feel — they just don’t know how to say it yet. The stars encourage you to make the first move.

I blinked. Then read it again. And maybe a third time.

I’m not saying I believe in fate with a capital F, but come on. After a dream like that? After weeks of trying to act normal around you when my heart’s basically beating Morse code messages like ‘I like you, I like you, I like you’ every time you’re near? That horoscope felt like a nudge.

Okay, more like a cosmic shove.

I texted you.

Nothing too intense. I sent you a picture of my morning coffee — a perfect heart-shaped swirl in the foam — with the caption, “The universe ships us, apparently.”

You replied faster than I expected.

“What makes you say that?”

I hesitated, thumbs hovering over my screen. Should I be honest? Should I play it cool? In true Cancer fashion, I overthought it for a solid two minutes before settling on:

“Read my Cancer-horoscope-today. It said someone around me feels the same but hasn’t said it. Thought I’d investigate.”

Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then reappeared.

“Funny. My love-horoscope-daily said basically the same thing.”

I swear my heart did this somersault thing inside my chest, and I physically had to stop myself from squealing in my kitchen like a teenager in a ‘90s rom-com.

“Well then,” I texted, “should we meet at the docks? You know, let the stars have their moment?”

You agreed.

We’ve always loved the water, both of us. It’s where we first met — volunteering for that beach clean-up last summer, both of us too sunburned and exhausted to flirt properly but managing to exchange numbers anyway. Since then, we’ve become a thing. Not a thing thing. But a… whatever-it-is thing. And I’ve been falling. Slowly, steadily, in the way only Cancers know how — cautious until we’re sure, then headfirst like it’s the only way to swim.

I got dressed in my favorite soft blue sundress — the one you once said made my eyes look like the sea — and made my way down to the dock. The sky was that kind of perfect pale blue, clouds like cotton candy drifting lazily overhead. The air smelled like salt and wood and summer.

You were already there.

Leaning against the railing, looking out at the water like you belonged there. Like you’d been waiting for me your whole life. Or maybe I was just getting overly poetic. It’s a side effect of feelings, I think.

“Hey,” I called out, my voice soft but carrying over the quiet of the morning.

You turned, and when you smiled, it felt like the tide coming in.

“I brought snacks,” you said, holding up a paper bag.

I grinned. “You really know how to woo a girl.”

We settled on the edge of the dock, legs dangling over the side, the water lapping gently below. You pulled out two pastries — one apple, one cinnamon — and passed me the apple without asking. You always remember my favorites.

For a while, we just sat there. Eating, laughing about how your horoscope app can never pronounce Cancer properly on the voice setting, pointing out boats and making up names for them.

And then, without looking at me, you said, “So… about those horoscopes.”

I swallowed hard, feeling my pulse race. “Yeah?”

“I think mine was right.”

I turned to face you, heart in my throat. “Yeah?”

You met my gaze, and it was all there. Everything I’d been too scared to hope for. In your eyes. In the way your lips tilted up, nervous but sure.

“I like you,” you said, voice quiet but steady. “Probably more than I should. Definitely more than a friend should.”

I laughed, a breath of relief and happiness all tangled up. “Good. Because I’ve been low-key in love with you since that stupid sandcastle contest we lost last summer.”

You grinned. “To be fair, ours was more of a sand blob than a castle.”

“I’m blaming you for that.”

We both laughed, and then your hand found mine, fingers lacing together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I think we should blame the stars,” you murmured, leaning your head against my shoulder.

I smiled at the water, at the sky, at the way the world felt a little softer, a little brighter with you next to me.

“I’m okay with that,” I whispered back.

We stayed there until the sun started to dip, painting the water in shades of peach and lavender. The kind of sunset that makes you believe in things. In fate. In love. In horoscopes that somehow know your heart better than you do.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t need to check tomorrow’s Cancer-horoscope-today to know it was going to be a good one.

[magicat1337]

Posting chapters of my book in an incorrect order: Part 1

FOREWORD: I was waiting for the Christmas chapter to be finished and post that first, but instead I decided to post this chapter first as it has been finished for weeks and even has a drawing for it (which I plan on remastering eventually) It is close to one of the first chapters, so you aren't going to be missing many details. I also decided to post this one first to let you guys get a better explanation for why I post about Isabelle being traumatized so much.

SUMMARY: The start of pretty much all of Izzy's problems

September 1st, 2004 - (The Worst Day Ever)

For most of my life, I have had an intense fear of elevators. And it all began on that bright sunny day of sophomore year. Summer was drawing to a close, and I was proudly wearing my brand new InuYasha shirt to school. I came to school that day happier than ever, and left with my throat raspy, my face red with emotion, and a new enemy: The school elevator.

The day up until that point was pretty basic; Edgar, Draco, and Tommy annoyed me for three periods straight, Adam had a meltdown, Mr. Brooke came to school in a Lord of the Rings hoodie, and I almost soiled myself on the bus. 

Miss Evans was reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone to the class, and I had Doc Ock on my mind, even though I didn't care much for Spider Man. I just got really attached to Otto Octavius because all my friends were falling head over heels in love with him; even Roxy was drawing herself with mechanical tentacles on her back! 

As Mrs. Evans droned on about Wingardium Leviosa, I began to become increasingly aware of my surroundings. Soon, everything felt annoying, I felt sick and anxious, I needed to go to the bathroom, and I was feeling every single imperfection of my body.

I raised my hand and waited for a pause in the book. That felt like forever, and my hand went numb. At least I had a poster of Tom DeLonge to stare at while I waited impatiently. Miss Evans loved pop punk music as much as I did, and that was why I loved her so much.

“Okay class, bookmark the page you’re on and open a document on your computer,”Miss Evans said, and she soon noticed me, holding my hand up. “What do you need?”

“To go to the bathroom,” I replied. 

Once she dismissed me from class, I walked to the girls’ bathroom, but I noticed the janitor cleaning in there. There was the young girls’ bathroom, with its gaudy pink paint and posters on the walls telling you to wash your hands. However, my legs were too weak to walk down the stairs, so I turned the corner around the principal’s office, to where the elevator was, and pressed the button to take me down.

When I went inside of the elevator, brown walls with metallic railing and a shiny grey floor welcomed me. Posters about elevator safety were taped onto every side, some even had instructions on what to do in case of a fire. But nothing in there told me what to happen if I was trapped.

The elevator doors closed, and I waited for it to start moving. Was it just a quiet elevator, or was it not moving me?

After a few more minutes, a horrifying realization washed over me and my blood began to roar in my ears;  I was trapped. 

I began mashing buttons on the wall desperate for escape, and I screamed so loud that rumors stated even the children playing basketball in PE could hear me; although I didn’t know it, for the elevator muted all outside noise, they could hear me even if I didn’t hear them. 

Students in other classrooms were confused and horrified, teachers were wondering if they had to call a code. But these weren’t the screams of a student having a breakdown; these were the screams of a student scared for her life, a student suffering a most unfortunate scenario. A scenario so common you can’t go more than three months without hearing or seeing something related to it, yet one that seems so fictional.

As my screams echoed throughout the school, my classmates were too worried to type the chapter summary Miss Evans had assigned. Instead, they were questioning what was happening, why had someone been wailing in agony for five consecutive minutes, and especially “Why is Izzy taking so long in the bathroom?”

Still screaming, I took another look at the buttons on the wall. There was a phone one! I waited anxiously for someone to pick up, and once Ms. Van De Boggart did, I couldn't help but scream.

“What's the problem?" she asked, to which all she heard were screams.

"Someone will be out to get you shortly," she responded.

At least someone now knew of my predicament.

Miss Durst seemingly pressed open the elevator doors and saw me lying there, on the floor against the metallic railing. Even though I was only trapped for five minutes, I looked as if I had been trapped for five hours.

My face was as red as the dye that colored my hair, and I had cried so much that the tears stained my shirt. My hands were bruised and my shirt was untucked. If my mom saw me like this, she’d be furious.

"Why didn't you hear me?" was my first question.

"I did, I was running around everywhere searching for who was screaming, I didn't know it was coming from the elevator."

  Soon, all the students’ questions had been answered: Izzy was taking so long because she was trapped in the elevator, screaming for her dear life. 

I stared at her with a hopeful glimmer in my eyes. She looked gorgeous. The shirt she wore was encrusted with rhinestones, just like the belt that complemented her jeans. She offered me up from my position on the floor, holding out her hand for me to grab onto. We walked back to class together, and I whispered “Thank you for saving my life” under my breath. 

In the classroom, everyone sighed in unison. I no longer needed to go to the bathroom, and the strangest of all was that there was no waste dripping down my legs. I guess the fear of being trapped for the rest of my short, miserable life took away the need to go to the bathroom. 

“Izzy, were you the one screaming?” asked Colin, brushing his side part behind his ear.. I nodded my head and quietly took a seat at my desk, preparing to type the essay. To be honest, I would have wanted Colin to keep his hair covering his eyes, but I understood why he did it, for he needed to see and do the assignment. I felt that I would need to visit the counselor soon, but for now, my counselors were the pop punk band posters plastered all over the otherwise bland walls. 

"Heh, dumb b----, next time I bet she's gonna die in there!" Edgar said. I wanted to scream at him, but I held my tongue and looked around. Miss Evans gave him a sour look and told him "Edgar, I heard that."

It was always good to have a classroom that did not look like a mental hospital.. And she agreed. She was widely considered “the cool teacher” by most high schoolers, except for Edgar, who thought she was annoying for occasionally bringing up how she supports same-sex marriage. Just days prior, there was an incident involving him changing his computer’s wallpaper to a nazi flag, so she went into his computer, downloaded as many screencaps of My Little Pony Tales as she could, and changed his wallpaper to two muscular half-naked men making out passionately with one other. 

After I was done with my assignment, I went onto Neopets and dreamed about the mall trip my mother had promised for me after school. I could get some new Neopets stuff at Limited Too, and even though I wished Aspen could come with me, I was content to play those dreamy flash games and tell those people on the NeoBoards what had happened.

Today is the greatest…NOT!

If u guys are wonderin’ wat happened…I got trapped in an elevator. Yes, I became the main character of a filler episode of a TV show. Except I was all alone. I dont think I'll ever go in an elevator EVAR again :( unless forced, but even there I must find a workaround

~~~~~~~ The sun, goes down

I feel the light betray me

-------------------------------------------

That was how my post on Neopets.com looked. By the time fourth period ended and I had to return to my homeroom, my topic was flooded with well wishes and people congratulating me for staying strong in such a scary scenario. Examples of messages I got included

“I never realized how scary getting trapped in an elevator was until I heard it from you…I’m so sorry!”

“Never liked school elevators. Saw the jocks take the elevator once with nobody around”

“I’ve been in a LOT of elevators in my life, but I’ve never seen one with a phone button. LUCKY

“Thx 4 574y1n9 5t20n9! 1 w0u1d f233k out 2 but j00 handled it teh 1337 way!”

(Thanks for staying strong! I would freak out too, but you handled it the leet way!)

It felt as if I was surrounded by people that were all wishing me well; my emotions were so strong I even reacted physically. My eyes closed, a smile crept upon my face for the first time in a while, and I whispered “Thank you everyone” under my breath

I would grow to hate how they’ve watered down getting trapped in an elevator as simply a scenario to exploit, usually for comedic purposes. What if you were alone, like I was? What if help didn’t come even after forty agonizing hours? What if there was no phone button to get you out of there? What if you weren’t able to stay calm?  Only so many hours of running around, pacing, and hurting yourself for fun in a glorified metal coffin can keep a person sane. At least some were able to recognize the horror.

Since that day, even though it was so many long years ago, if you bring it up in front of me, my throat will clench, my body will shake, and I will begin to cry

As the fifth period bell rang, though my body continued to sting with pain and fear, I packed up my things and headed back to Mrs. Renard’s classroom. There were already algebra worksheets in front of us, and we all started to work on it, even me, still wracked with emotions. 

While Mrs. Renard was not looking, Roxy scooted up closer to me. Her brown eyes were just as teary as mine, and she put her hand onto my shoulder. Her black nail polish seemed to distract my mind from the terror that I had just witnessed not even thirty minutes ago.

“Hey Izzy,” she whispered, gesturing for me to turn my head. “I just want to let you know that you were braver than you thought today, and you should know that it could’ve been worse. A man got trapped in an elevator for almost two whole days a few years ago, and I remember seeing the security cam footage on TV!” 

“Roxy, why are you t-telling me this?” I choked out, “Are you out of your ever-loving MIND? That doesn’t help mat–”

She quickly interrupted me. “Remember the friendship promise we made? When we’re worried, we’ll  tell each other about how much worse it could be. That was one of the many promises we made that one night,” 

I chuckled, remembering the “true friends” email Roxy had sent me just months prior. It went something along the lines of this.

“When you are sad, I will get you drunk and will help you plot revenge against the sorry bastard who made you sad.

“When you are blue, I'll try to dislodge whatever is choking you.

“When you smile, I'll know you finally got a partner.

“When you are scared, I will rag you about it every chance I get.

“When you are worried, I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be and to quit whining.

“When you are confused, I will use little words to explain!

“When you are sick, stay away from me until you're well again. I don't want whatever you have.

“When you fall, I will point and laugh at your clumsy ass!

“This is my oath, I pledge 'til the end. Why you may ask?

“Because you're my friend!

“Remember: A friend will help you move. A really good friend will help you move a body. Let me know if I ever need to bring a shovel!”

“Oh, I remember now,” I nodded.

A mysterious smile crept upon Roxy's face. “Would you like me to email you our Friendship Pledge every day so you don’t forget?”

“Eh, sure.” I replied dubiously. 

Soon, I remembered that today Mom was taking me to Limited Too after school, for I had done great at the dentist and even though I was nearly sixteen now, she still gave me gifts like I was five. I went to the mall only once every few months, for Mom had spine problems, but it felt like my home away from home, if I had to be brutally honest. 

As I worked through my algebra worksheet, visions of the mall floated through my head. Displays of plushies at Limited Too, the bright glow of the escalator in the food court, the displays of all the manga I could ever want at Waldenbooks, the loud music and funny tee shirts of Hot Topic where I sang as I shopped, it just felt like I needed it. But at the same time, my need was dampened by my childhood memories.

I felt scared to ask for anything extra. I’d struggled with making decisions ever since I was young, and when I was forced to choose between two candies at Mobil Mart, I’d choose one, wait until my parents weren’t looking, run off, and stuff the other in the pocket of my hoodie. It was such a bad habit that I was labeled a juvenile delinquent at ten years old, and got banned from the supermarket by my house for three weeks. I would constantly apologize when I asked for a birthday gift that was a little too expensive, even though my parents were fine with spending upwards of 250 dollars for my birthdays, and to this day, I still feel a little guilty when I buy a candy bar. If I didn’t have a set budget, I’d go on an uncontrollable splurge and run whichever credit card I had with me into the ground. 

I vacantly handed my algebra worksheet to the teacher and asked her if I could have lunch with Miss Kaufer, the cool school counselor.

“Sure, I’ll call,” Mrs. Renard sighed, turning over to the telephone that hung on the wall. I still had twenty minutes until lunch, so I opened my sketchbook and got to work on my newest drawing. It was a gift for Miss Durst, but I would post it online too. I always had to post everything I drew online. More specifically, this drawing featured one of the Neopets I owned. I called her Peanut Butter, but the screen name I gave her must’ve been something like 54321_peanut_butter. Peanut Butter was an Aisha, an intelligent alien cat, and I had painted her Christmas; she looked like a reindeer! I had watercolor colored pencils that I was addicted to, so as I drew, I would collect saliva in my mouth, and when it came time to shade the drawing, I would dip my pencil into my mouth, and get to work coloring with the saliva-soaked pencil; Mrs. Renard looked down on me for doing it, for it was pretty unsanitary. I didn’t have a glass of water on me at all times, and there was no way in hell I would dip my pencil into the water that I was drinking. 

My vacant coloring of my drawing was rudely interrupted by the lunch bell ringing, and as soon as that bell rang, I dashed out the door of the classroom and grabbed my lunch box. Inside was a very simple lunch: A bag of chips, a Kid Cuisine, and apple slices. It wasn’t as good as some of my classmates’ lunches, but it was good enough for me. I couldn’t recall why my parents started buying them for me, but those little microwavable meals had been there for me ever since I was seven years old.

I rushed down the steps of the empty staircase that few ever walked down, gripping my Hello Kitty lunchbox and pulling the door open; right at the bottom of the staircase was Miss Kaufer’s room. I bumbled in, a wide smile on my face.

“Hey Miss Kaufer!” I waved, taking a seat at her desk and setting my lunch on my table. I carefully took everything out and microwaved my food.

“So I heard something really traumatic happened today,” said Miss Kaufer, “What do you have for lunch?”

“I got trapped in the school elevator,” I shuddered, looking away from her. “I don’t like talking about it. "

"How did it feel?" she asked.

"Terrible, I'm still shaking," I told her. "I don't want to talk about it right now"

"What do you have for lunch?" she asked me as I unpacked my lunch bag.

"Oh, the usual," I said “What’s the usual?” “Uh, you know; Kid Cuisine, apples, chips. Anyways, how’s your cat doing?”

“Oh, Bucky’s been doing great. I got him a new scratching post!” “Oh cool! My Minerva’s doing pretty good too; Over the summer I tried teaching her how to play video games!”

“And I’m assuming that didn’t work out.”

“No; actually she’s pretty good at it!”

Spending lunch time with Miss Kaufer was a great way to get my mind off of things.

When that lunch bell rang, I didn’t want to leave, but I did anyway. History class went by like a blur and I can not remember much of what we learned that day. Probably something about the civil war. Aspen complained that she didn’t want to hear about it for a lot of the period, much to my annoyance. Sometimes, I wondered why we were friends. On the monotonous bus ride home, where only my cell phone and my iPod entertained me, I texted Mom while listening to My Chemical Romance. I had a root canal done, and to congratulate me, Mom promised to take me to Limited Too and buy a Neopets plushie for me as soon as I got home from school that day, and my eyes lit up in joy as soon as I remembered. After such a traumatic experience, I really did need to just hug a Neopets plushie. Visions of what I’d choose danced through my head. A red shoyru? A cloud scorchio? Maybe I’d just get a petpet instead of any Neopet; after all I was extremely fond of Babaas. I had a few moments to think about it. Then I set my things down in the foyer and rushed to my mom, who was on the patio smoking cigarettes, just like usual. She knew instantly what I was going to ask her, and she groaned.

“Can you wait twenty minutes?” she asked me.

“Yes,” I replied, hurrying back inside. I got myself a glass of strawberry lemonade from the fridge and went upstairs to my bedroom. Twenty minutes was enough time to check deviantART and scan the art that I had drawn that day. I had a ton of new compliments on my message wall, updates to the fan clubs I was in, and some more. 

If I tell my watchers what happened today, how would they react?  I thought. I typed in my journal.

"I Had Trouble

Mood: Apprehensive

Listening To: My very own heartbeat

Drinking: Strawberry lemonade

Strangely enough, im not in the mood 2 type right now, so if u wanna know what happened, guess i just have 2 copy this message i posted on Neopets.

"If u guys are wonderin’ wat happened…I got trapped in an elevator. Yes, I became the main character of a filler episode of a TV show. Except I was all alone. I dont think I'll ever go in an elevator EVAR again :( unless forced, but even there I must find a workaround."

On the NeoBoards, I had received a few new messages, all of them were the same "I'm glad you got out" messages, which reminded me that I was seen as more as a girl who'd been involved in a scenario everyone has thought about before.

Soon, Mom called me downstairs, and I bounced down the stairs so fast I almost tumbled down.

I wriggled around anxiously in the car; I knew that it was only going to be a quick trip to Limited Too and maybe Auntie Anne’s, but still I was happy to be there. The mall was undergoing a lot of renovations, and I would want to be there to see them, although I knew I was only going for the aforementioned stores. Briefly, I considered Waldenbooks instead. After all, I felt as if I was going to get numerous weird looks from girls younger than me in there. Well, guess I just had to peek in and find out. 

As Mom parked right in front of the side of the mall where Sears was, I thought about the JCPenney that was coming to the mall, maladroitly stepped out of the car and skipped inside, my hand in hers. The bright lights of Limited Too already shone in my face, and I wasn’t even inside the mall yet! I skipped and hopped joyfully as I passed Sam Goody, which seemed to scream my name like a dying man on the side of the road, but I was more focused on Limited Too that day. 

As soon as I was inside of Limited Too, I rushed over to the Neopets display and spent a good amount of time looking. The store was almost empty, which was good, for nobody would judge me for being almost sixteen and still shopping there. A brown Uni lay directly in front me, and there was a litter of Aishas over my head, which I could faintly hear meowing for me even though they were inanimate objects.. But I eventually came across a shadow gelert with unusually floppy ears and its tail bent in between its legs,  hidden within the displays. Immediately, I knew that it was the one I wanted. I picked it up at the speed of light and hugged it tight. Then I eagerly ran to the register and presented it to Mom, who investigated the tag on its ear.

“Yes, you can get it,” said Mom, nodding

Tears clouded over my eyes as we walked to the register and I began to tell the cashier about my horrible day at school..

“I…I got trapped…in the school elevator today…5 minutes,” I choked out, “And…I think…th-that…this…” I gave up.

“It was…supposed to be…a gift…for being brave at the dentist.” “But then what I just mentioned happened today and…I think I’ll bring this little buddy to school with me.”

Mom gave the cashier a sour look. She was not listening to me tell my story, but instead of being upset at me for essentially talking to the wall, she was upset at the cashier for not listening to me.  Frankly, I did not mind. Everyone called me a chatterbox of a girl and I always have a lot to say, a trait that still stays with me to this very day. 

“I’m so sorry,” the cashier nervously responded, confirming that she was in fact listening to me, “That must’ve been very traumatizing if you’re crying about it hours later.” “I-it was.” 

Next, Mom took me to Auntie Anne’s, and to my disapproval, I noticed that an elevator was being constructed and the bouncy little ramps that took me between floors were soon going to be no more. It felt like a sick prank. Well, at least they still had the escalators and the spiral staircase. I got my usual order of cinnamon sugar pretzels, but unlike usual, I got no drink.

The whole ride home I hugged my shadow gelert tightly, gazing at it long and hard and decided that I would call it Vivica, like one of the many songs Roxy had played for me last time she came over. The rest of the day was spent alone in my bedroom, sending funny ecards to my friends and family. For dinner that night, I had chicken noodle soup, if that matters to you.

[bumblebeeappletree]

Earlier this year, we decided that we would like to support participants of Rails Girls Summer of Code, a 3-month scholarship focused on helping underrepresented individuals get into the industry. We signed up to be a coaching company, offering space and mentors for the selected team. Then the pandemic happened. Due to a lack of resources, the program was cancelled before this year’s participants had even begun.

I had taken part in the Rails Girls Summer of Code in 2018, which helped me apply for my first programming position at Ecosia. Having participated in the program, I was able to demonstrate collaborative work and an understanding of what the position would entail. Coming from a non-traditional background (I used to work in the specialty coffee industry) this experience was a crucial step in my transition into tech.

Although the program had been cancelled, we still wanted to support the participants. So we began to put together a mentorship program ourselves that ran from mid July to the end of August. The participants have worked on their own projects, receiving support from some of Ecosia’s developers, who answered their questions during “open hours”.

[ningningsdream]

the villain in your story masterlist | n.jm

pairing: fem!oc x barista!jaemin, fembarista!reader x barista!jaemin

genre: fluff, angst, suggestive, barista!au, sns au

summary: girls' code prevents you from liking the guy your friend likes right?

warning(s): drama, swearing, toxic friendship, may be suggestive idk yet, lots of flirting

status: finished

started: 23210

ended: 23603

a/n: started this on a whim

main masterlist

00. profiles

01. new barista

02. working hours

03. cute friend, free macarons and missed opportunity

04. work proposal

05. free drinks and arguments

06. different friendships

07. one step forward...

08. huang homewrecker renjun

09. ...and three steps back

10. babygirl jaemin

11. aftermath

12. strong malewife & hot wusband

13. movie night & forgiveness

14. jaemin's friends

15. lottery shopping

16. jeno's dispatch era

17. drunk!y/n

18. istg na jaemin

19. happy birthday, y/n!

20. summer break

21. another one

22. y/n saving the day

23. complicated travel plans

24. shawty imma party 'til the sun down

25. mad!y/n

26. just not that into you

27. roadtrip

28. late night explanations

29. first day: bike railing and one bed trope at its finest

30. second day: girls' day & boys' day

31. second day: drunk!y/n again

32. third day: interesting pictures

33. third day: alpacas and kitchen gossips

34. fourth day: beach picnic

35. fourth day: soju ranking

36. fifth day: water activities

37. sixth day: free day

38. mixed signals

39. back to seoul

40. worries

41. study date?

42. sleepover

43. perhaps she snaps

44. date date date

45. playing victim

46. rejection & cakes

47. someone from the past

48. breaking point

49. what goes on when y/n is not at suhturday

50. surprise

51. abort mission

52. jaemin's birthday

53. wedding

54. parents

55. last confrontation

56. epilogue

taglist: [closed]

@glamourizz @rinrinslovebot @beomibeom @moonjobf @hiqhkey @leemarksfavorite @calssunflower @donghyuckster @vianna99 @kookiedesi @baehaechannie @nshimura @thiccfullsun @dear-dreamie @neobowlingshoez @jjaehmins @bruisedcupids @neoivy1 @liliansun @bythe8 @hyuckrec @dearlyminhyung @ohmygs-blog @hoeshi17 @wonupuppy @shan-oldham @jeongintwt @renjunoya @najm00 @sukistrawberry @goldryush @000rpheus @sfthyuka @mxnhoeuwu @dandelionxgal @vanillainverse @niaalove @igotkpoops

[jonesyjonesyjonesy]

Wildflowers (pt. xiv.i)

a john paul jones x fem!oc fic

summary: Julia Morgan knew nannying for three girls who had recently lost their mother would come with many challenges. But she never thought their father, the enigmatic musician John Paul Jones, would be causing her the most trouble. And while Julia is not in the business of saving broken men, her tenderness might be meant for more than little girls and wildflowers.

table of contents │ previous chapter

masterlist│ko-fi

notes: tropes, tropes, and more tropes

a/n:  Text editor be damned. The girls need Julia Morgan. Part one of two. As a reminder, the tag list is opened. 🥰

pt. xiv.i, wild rose

"I’ve been watching and I just know, Julia. I just know that you are not alone in this."

The corner of my eye twitched. The band of the falsies Pat had given me kept dipping below my lash line. A tear started forming in my right eye.

“Bloody hell,” I spat and ripped them from the crepe skin of my lids. The release of the glue was a tiny piece of heaven.

I didn’t have the heart to toss them overboard and instead set them on the handrail. They looked like angry black caterpillars that were curling up, waiting to die.

A solemn summer breeze glanced over the lake and gave me goosebumps I rubbed my forearms for warmth. Wished I had a cigarette to accompany me. I had my sea legs by now and I undulated with the delicate waves of the current. But I was done with it. The romanticism I had built up from watching the boats trembling with people and music was kaput. I wanted to go back to the dock.

I coughed deeply once more, marijuana still scratching at my lungs. My head throbbed from too much alcohol. Hangover even before getting into bed. Getting old, Julia. I grabbed onto the rail, framing my little lash caterpillars between my hands, and looked out at the mountains ghosting over the glinting, winking water.

This night that had started out so promising was now miserable and here I was alone on the aft deck while up above people danced up above and inside –

I didn’t want to think about inside. She’d had her hand on the inside of his thigh last I’d looked. And he’d been so taken with her touch, whispering in her ear and making her laugh. Without my eyes, I’m sure it would make it easier for him to unwind just as I’d encouraged the night before. If I had stayed, he would have been slightly abashed and withholding and I could have stayed snug between Robert and –

“There you are.”

I’m getting ahead of myself. It’s hard not to when I think about it.

Where to start, where to start…I guess it’s inevitability. That’s the word. Like how the planets orbit the sun. It was inevitable in that heliocentric way. Around, around, around. Inevitable, inevitable, inevitable. 

Although the night before I had refuted Pat’s (and Robert’s and Mr. Grant’s) impression of what was happening between John and I, I cherished that it was known. They saw, felt a potential. That night, rather than hopelessly reach across the bed, I clutched the question in my palm and dangerously imagined the next night. I had to wonder if anyone had bothered to say anything to him about me. I didn’t know habits of infatuation from the male perspective, but from what I could tell, it seemed men never said anything to each other unless it was coded in nods and coughs. Was he being told that there was an obvious quality about us? Did he feel an inevitable feeling about us? Or was he literal when he called me friend? Was our affection for one another deeply entrenched in his tragic desperation for connection?

The day of was a warm and lazy. Room service breakfast, basking on the great lawn, wasting the day away. The exact way to spend a life.

There were moments all throughout the day of that inevitable feeling tucked in pockets. A glance, a shared laugh, his accidental grazing of my hand with his which made us both hold our arms tighter to our sides. The way we intonated Tamara’s name in the same way when she was being indolent. The look we shared after that seemed like neither of us wanted the other to see. Am I making sense? These things feel universal and yet so impossible to put into words.

Inevitable, inevitable, inevitable.

Inevitable like in the goodbye John gave toward the end of dinner before he went upstairs to get ready. “Well,” he let a telling, paternal sigh to stand. “I’m off.” The girls all moaned as he stood and gave each one a kiss to the crown of the head. “Don’t be too upset, you’ll have an extra special night tonight.”

“A surprise? Is there a surprise?” Kiera eagerly asked, shooting up in her chair like a flagpole.

John leaned over her, one hand to the back of the chair and the other on the table. “Julia’s going out tonight. So…”

“I’m in charge?” Tamara smiled and batted her eyelashes.

John scrunched his nose and pinched her chin playfully. “You wish. No, you’ll get some visitors tonight I think you’ll quite enjoy.” He turned to look at me with a sneaking smile. “You want to tell them or should I?”

I smiled back although my thoughts garbled together when my eyes met his. “You can, if you like.”

He rolled his head back to the girls and grinned. “Or do you a have guess?”

Jacinda’s eyes flickered easily, quickly. “Pat and Bonzo?”

Kiera looked to her sisters, her mouth agape and smiling. 

John shrugged. “I can neither confirm nor deny.”

“Will they bring a surprise?” Kiera asked.

“Kiera,” Tamara tutted with a roll of her eyes. “They’re the surprise.”

Kiera frowned. “People aren’t a surprise. Presents are a surprise. That’s a surprise, daddy,” she said instructionally.

“You’re spoiled. And I love you dearly,” he replied with a saccharine tone and leaned in to give her a thick, wet kiss on the cheek.

“Where are you going, Julia?” Jacinda asked me.

I hesitated before replying, “I’m going to go watch your father perform tonight.”

The corner of her mouth turned up and her eyes glinted curiously. If I didn’t know better, I would have told her exactly what I said to Pat the night before: “I know what you’re thinking and no.”

“Why does Julia get to watch you and we don’t? That’s not fair,” Kiera pouted.

“Oh, you’d be bored to tears,” he said, gaze falling to his feet. Then, as if the devil ran his finger down his spine, he lifted his head and looked to me with a smirk. “Very boring stuff.” It was only a brief look, but long enough to send a flicker of feeling through my belly.

“Plus, much too late for little ones to be about,” I added.

John laughed, “Yes, there are too many unsettling and spooky characters around past your bedtime.” His eyes darted to his watch. “Alright, now I’ve got to be off. You all better be asleep by the time we’re back tonight, alright?”

A chorus of affirmatives from the girls.

“And I’ll see you later,” he said to me, drifting away from the table with slow feet.

“Yes, I’ll be one of the crowd. Holding a lighter maybe. Isn’t that what people do?” I teased.

John blushed on my behalf and chuckled, “Oh, Julia, you have much to learn.” He turned to go but stopped short and looked back at me once more. “Let tonight be the start of your real education.”

I returned his blush with a deeper shade of crimson. I had done the studying in the studio with him, listening to his records and his playing, hearing him talk about people and concepts I didn’t know. Or was our time together the studying and the night ahead the education?

The girls and I finished up our dinner, including a rather splendid dessert of ice cream sundaes (I’d have to apologize to Pat and Bonzo for the inevitable sugar high). By the time we returned to the suite, John was long gone, save the fresh scent of his aftershave wafting out from his bedroom. God, I was so used to him and his being, his presence. Only natural, considering I lived in his house and took care of his girls. It added to that inevitable feeling. It would just be so easy to pivot into something deeper than friendship. No worrying if the children would like me, no worrying that I wouldn’t be ready for the responsibility of motherhood.

And this is where I had to grab the emergency brake. This felt deranged. What was yesterday a crush was now a full-fledged life plan. I had to wind it back. Put my head down. Focus on what was in front of me and that was bath time, which ran extra-long that night. I hid my anxious, flying thoughts behind the cover of Where the Red Fern Grows while the girls listened with rapt attention as bubbles popped around them. Once they all resembled raisins rather than little girls, I sent them off to their room to put on their pajamas so I could disappear to change.

I had laid out the dress hours ago, tenderly, spread across the bed as if the woman wearing it had disapparated suddenly. The long, white dress, printed with lively poppies, purple bellflowers, and fern leaves, looked exactly like what someone in Montreux shouldwear. A partial wooden-buttoned bodice and tie at the waist. Almost tropical. I had bought the dress specifically for the trip, although it was more of an aspirational garment, something that I didn’t expect to pull out, but would be nice for an impromptu dinner or an evening walk alone along the waterfront.

As I did the ritualistic contortion, bending my arms around my back for the zipper, I started to question if the dress I had thought was so lovely in the shop window was at all fit for the night. I seemed to stick out like a sore thumb wherever I went. I thought of myself as a smart dresser, not necessarily stylish. I cared for my clothes and cared that they suited my figure, but I no longer obsessed over trends as I did as a younger woman. Here, the crowd of musicians and their sycophants dressed in trends that were exponential of what you would see on Carnaby. With so many people saying “look at me”, no one was at all unique.

7pm on the dot, the Bonhams and Robert arrived. Bonzo was markedly grumpy until he was greeted with a thrill of cheers and kisses from the girls and was unceremoniously ushered into a card game. That left me with Pat and Robert, both of whom shuffled me with eagerness into my room. 

“That’s just a smashing little thing, don’t you think?” Pat said, pulling up the skirt of my dress and admiring the fabric draped over her hand.

“It looks lovely,” Robert replied as if it were consolation. “But have you got anything shorter?”

I balked, “Shorter? No.” 

“Damn,” he grunted. “You see, John’s the type to check the boot of the car before the headlights, if you catch my meaning,” he said and pulled the skirt so it tightened around my backside.

Pat thwapped his hand away from the dress. “Oh, stop that.”

“I’m just saying, if you know where the eye will go, it’s something to capitalize on,” he said with a shrug and cheeky smile before plopping down on the end of the bed and spreading his legs out long.

“Don’t listen to him,” she said and put her hands up in front of my chest. “It makes your tits look great and that’ll be more than enough.”

I had to laugh at their comedy routine. “You’re being awfully presumptive about all this,” I said.

“About what, darlin’?” Robert asked, picking at his nails.

“That…you know,” I began sheepishly. “I don’t know what you all are seeing, but inside of it, it’s just a comfortable friendly sort of thing.”

Robert and Pat stared back at me like I was a child saying they hadn’t broken a teacup even though the handle was still between their fingers.

“And I work for him. So this – what you’re implying or trying to do through…the dress and the…it’s really all appreciated, but it’s altogether inappropriate,” I said with firm finality.

They blinked and then burst into laughter. I screwed my lips together to keep the pinprick of embarrassment from welling in my eyes.

“You’re so precious, Julia,” Pat gushed. “Just precious.”

“Show us the shoes now,” Robert demanded from his throne on the bed.

I tried to ignore their reaction and showed them the woven leather heels that seemed satisfactory, even though Robert remarked that they looked ginormous when I held them up. “Don’t talk about that, I’m sensitive,” I said dryly before clipping them on.

And then it was off to the vanity, which clearly had been on Pat’s mind. She plopped a large makeup case adorned with golden threaded elephants down and began to unload every little thing in her bag of tricks. Robert got up and came behind me, running his hand through my hair. “What are you thinking?”

“Well, I was just –“ I began.

“Just a slight curl, a little spray,” Pat rattled off.

“You’ve got to go big with the hair,” Robert replied.

I stared at my reflection, rendered speechless. The two of them squabbled over my hair as if I wasn’t there, just a form for them to style. It felt ridiculous to be prodded and preened by their fingers, evaluating the pros and cons of what hairstyle would suit the evening. 

“Don’t worry, Julia. You’re in very good hands. You just need to sit and let me do my work, alright?” Pat said in her sweet way that now felt rather condescending given the moment.

“I just prefer something not too flashy, you know, I don’t want –“

I was silenced by Pat’s hands running over my face with some sort of balm or cream that had a sharp and unnatural floral scent. It was abundantly clear that I would not have a say in what was happening to me, so I kept my mouth shut and let them take over. As the saying goes, idle hands are the devil’s playthings, and it became too easy to let my love-addled brain turn to anxieties of the evening.

Meanwhile, Pat worked and Robert commented endlessly. Brushes and fingers, creams and powders, the heat of a curling iron at the back of my neck. I watched the mirror out of the corner of my eye in terror at what was becoming of my face and my hair. Glimpses of big, thick curls weighed down with product and shocks of frosted orange on my eyelid. I must have been paling pitifully because they kept arguing over if they should add more rouge. 

After what felt like a lifetime of this torture, Pat spoke up. “Close your eyes.”

Her fingers drifted into my eyeline, holding the wispy lashes that would plague me later in the night. “No, no, no,” I held up a hand. “I haven’t worn those since the 60s, please.”

“Oh, come on, they’ll look nice,” she retorted, making no move of retreat.

“Everyone wears them,” Robert added. “And Pat puts them on perfectly, you won’t be getting that lazy eye look.”

“Shut up, Rob.”

I dodged left. “No, please, I don’t want them on.” Then right. “I don’t want to look all done up.” I shot up off the tufted stool and backed away from the pair. “I just want to look like me and I don’t wear those.” For the first time, I saw myself directly in the mirror and almost burst into tears. Pat had done a formidable job, but I hated it. I looked so young. I felt transported almost immediately to the time of my life that was just knee socks and wet knickers, when being bold and outlandish was my currency and despite all the risks I was taking, I felt so safe. Right up until I wasn’t. My reflection was just a little girl. I didn’t want to look like a girl tonight.

I grabbed at a lock of my hair and heard it crunch in my hand. “This is ridiculous. I look…ridiculous.”

“You look fantastic! What are you on about?” Robert said with brash enthusiasm. “You’ll be right up there with the best of them, Julie.”

“I’m not looking to be best in show,” I said, my breath quickening. “I don’t do this sort of thing. I feel like a fish in a fur coat.” I lunged for my hairbrush and began undoing the thick strains of curls. “I’m sorry, I know you worked so long, but this is just too much. I look like too much.”

Robert tried to retrieve the brush from me. “You’re spoiling it!”

“Rob, leave her alone,” Pat interjected and guided him toward the door. “Go wait outside, will you?”

They had a quiet conversation in the doorway that I ignored as I paced around the room, tugging on the crunchy curls with the brush. I had about half of my head done, curls softened as much as they could, when Pat spoke up. “Are you alright?”

“Fine.” 

“Julia…”

“You’ve all made this such a big thing and it wasn’t. It wasn’t anything, Pat,” I replied tersely and returned to the vanity. I began working on a curl that had become extremely knotted. “And now I have to appease it unless I want Mr. Grant to eat my kidneys for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Oh dear,” she muttered and came up behind me.

I worked tirelessly on the hair, not minding the pain it was bringing to my scalp, until I felt her hand on my shoulder. The tension in my back melted and I dropped my hands into my lap.

“This is supposed to be fun,” she said apologetically. “And if it’s not then –“

“I’m nervous,” I blurted. “I’m so bloody nervous I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

A sympathetic smile crept onto her lips.

I dropped the brush onto the vanity and curled over onto my fists. “I don’t want this. This feeling. I just don’t want it anymore.” This was ostensibly the first time I had admitted to someone that I was feeling something for John beyond what was acceptable. An untenable, complicated, and illicit feeling. 

Pat’s hand drifted down my back. She nudged herself onto the lip of the stool beside me and wrapped her arms around my waist. “Julia.”

I looked up and found her looking right back at me in the mirror.

“If you don’t want to have them, then don’t go tonight.”

“What?”

“Don’t go. You don’t want to feel the things you’re feeling, don’t go.”

I looked at her incredulously. “I can’t do that.”

“You could,” she replied. Then, her lips curled up into a mischievous smile. “You just don’t want to.”

I let out a limp laugh. She was good at seeing right through me. “I don’t want to look foolish. I already feel so foolish.”

Pat didn’t reply at first. She grabbed the brush and began to work out the curls in my hair again. “Julia, I wouldn’t be here egging this on if I thought you were going to look foolish.” She separated the pieces of my hair into relaxed curls easily with her nails. “I know you feel like you’re sitting on your heels just watching everyone because you’re the outsider. But what you don’t know is that I feel the exact same way. I think most of us do when we’re around the lot of them. I watch and I listen just like you do.” She sighed and reached for a clean eye shadow brush. Gingerly, she pushed the brush into the crease of my eye and began to buff out the orange. “The only difference is…I know them much better than you do. Their mannerisms and habits. I’ve learned over the years how to read them.” The eyeshadow miraculously diffused into a color resembling the golden light of afternoon. “And you need to hear me when I say this.” She gripped my shoulders and locked her eyes in mine through the mirror. “You listening?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been watching and I just know, Julia. I just know that you are not alone in this,” Pat said. “I see the way he looks at you.”

I flushed desperately. “Pat, please.”

“I know, it sounds like fluff, but listen to me. I wouldn’t just say it to stoke your ego. This is too…this is too big for that. I know that. We all know that. I mean…we all know how huge this is for him,” she said, despondency inching into her voice. “I’m not going to play games when I know how important this all is.”

I touched one of her hands and leaned my head against hers. 

Pat smiled, almost shyly. “And I’m sorry I made you look like a tart.”

“Not a tart, Pat, no!” I cried, enveloped in laughter.

“Well, the look on your face made it seem like I’d tarted you up completely!”

The two of us laughed ourselves silly and, once it abated, I conceded to the lashes now that the “tartiness” had been tamed. And I had to admit, she was right about them. They really pulled the look together and gave my eyes an allure that couldn’t be quite captured with mascara. The final touch was the lipstick. We agreed upon a dark terra cotta that added striking contour to the cupid’s bow of my lips. With a final fluff of my hair, Pat helped me to my feet and admired what had become of the past sloppy hour.

Pat clapped her hands together and squealed, “Oh, the girls will just die.”

Upon walking into the living room, the intense card game was only broken up by Robert’s cry of, “Wow, look at you!” The girls dropped their cards and gasped delightedly. “I’ve got to say, I had my doubts, ‘specially after that outburst, but you look just –“

“Winsome,” Bonzo finished.

“Winsome?” Robert repeated. 

“Yeah. Means pretty,” he replied as if it were the most obvious fact in the world.    

Kiera and Jacinda approached me, both touching the skirt of my dress and admiring it. “You look like a fairy,” Kiera said. “Like you sleep in a flower.”

“No, you look like the flower itself,” Jacinda argued.

“I’ll take both and then some,” I replied, leaning down and kissing each of them on the cheeks. “Be good tonight.”

Even Tamara, who was usually not one to offer a compliment unprompted, shyly added, “You look very pretty, Julia,” and that sent me over the moon.

“Thank god you came when you did,” Robert said, getting to his feet. “I was just about to get conned out of my ascot.”

I eyed Bonzo. “You better not be running a card table here. They’re too young for gambling.”

Bonzo gave me a toothy grin. “No card table, promise. Cross my heart.”

“Don’t listen to him. He’s got his fingers crossed behind his back,” Robert said, lithely dodging Bonzo’s hand going for his crotch. “Oooo…too slow.”

I gave Pat a pleading look and she nodded. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Boo…no fun at all,” her husband replied.

Robert bounded over to me with an eager smile. “You ready then, Ms. Morgan?”

“Yes, let me just grab my –“ Pat appeared at my side with my ivory beaded purse. “Oh, thank you.”

“You have fun and you don’t worry a pin about us, right, John love?”

Kiera had already made her way over to Bonzo, climbing over him to reach the pile of cards on the side table. “Yes, hurry back!” he grimaced.

“Don’t hurry back. Don’t for god’s sake,” Pat amended.

I smiled at her the way I would at Auntie Gin. With an uninhibited amount of adoration. She had mothered me as I had needed right in that moment. And now she had to let me go. “You come get me if anything goes wrong, won’t you?”

“Nothing will go wrong,” Pat waved me off.

“But I mean it, if anything –“

She started to scurry us out of the suite. “Go, go, go. Girls, say goodnight to Julia!”

“Goodnight, Julia!” the girls said in unison.

Robert and I were forced out the door by Pat. She paused, pretty eyes narrowing. “And good luck.”

I didn’t have time to respond before the door clapped shut in my face and Robert tucked his arm under mine. “Come on, love. We’ve got somewhere to be.”

Robert calmed my nerves immensly on the way over to the casino. Everything I said could be turned into a tongue-in-cheek joke and, for better or worse, he was doing a bang-up job of making me feel gorgeous. By the time we made our way into the venue, I held my head high amongst the overly-trendy crowd.

The concert, or jam as John called it, was being held in one of the smaller spaces. It was much more casual than I had anticpated, with cabaret style tables populating the space and a very lively bar scene in the back. The stage at the front was crammed with gear; a few men milled about double checking cords and microphones. And there was a distinct smell of patchouli and tahitian vanilla wafting about, heightened by the inescapable humidity of bodies in Swiss summer.

Moreso than ever, I realized the unrivaled power of Zeppelin. It was not just a word, but an aura. An aura that was hard to miss when it was embodied in the towering, golden-haired banshee, Robert Plant. We were borne quickly to a more secluded section for the artists and shown to a primely located table toward the front. Even amongst his peers, eyes followed him as if he was untouchable.

“Y’find this suitable, then?” Robert asked as he pulled a chair out for me.

“Me? I mean, it’s perfect.” We had the best view of the entire stage, set up and back from the crowd and all the way to the front of the VIP section.

He shrugged. “It’s alright.”

“Never good enough when you get the best, is it?” I murmured, taking a seat.

Robert didn’t respond; he was making eye contact with someone across the room, gesturing with his hand toward the table in a back and forth motion. I tried to follow his gaze but didn’t see anyone of note, but was distracted by the knot of anticipation in my stomach. There is something so special about the time before a show begins. All the instruments full of potential energy, the audience abuzz and waiting. At any moment, your idle chatter and drinking could be interrupted, exchanged for a musical catharsis.

“I want you to keep an open mind tonight, Julie,” Robert murmured in my ear as he settled into the seat beside me. 

I glanced at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“This is the bird then?”

Our table had been flanked by a stocky, beared fellow who carried a glass in either hand. His eyes were squarely on me, but the question was for Robert, as if I were a sort of specimen being observed in a lab.

“Richard, Julia,” Robert said as means of introduction. “Julia, Ricardo.”

“Hello,” I greeted timidly.

Richard’s blank look transformed into a knowing smile. “It’s a pleasure,” he said with a nod and set the drinks down in front of us. “Heard you’re a fan of the green fairy.”

I frowned until I caught his meaning and looked at the drink in front of me. A chartreuse, bubbling liquid in a champagne coupe. “You’re trying to get me knackered?”

“Best way to be under the circumstances,” Richard replied.

“Richard’s our tour manager,” Robert explained. “Responsible for most all the knackering.”

“Oh, brilliant.”

Richard laughed gruffly and crouched down at the edge of our table. “Well, it’s nice to meet you finally. Heard a lot about you.”

I looked to Robert and shook my head. “That’s what everyone keeps saying and it’s starting to –“

“Oh, hush, Julia. It’s a compliment,” Robert admonished me.

“Depends on who you’re hearing it from,” I said with pursed lips.

“Just good things,” Richard shrugged, eyes shifting every which way. “Good, pure things. Promise. Listen, after the show, head out to the docks. There’s going to be a yacht taking off right after the show, s’not gonna wait except for Maria and her crew.”

Robert nodded. “Got it.”

“You better be there,” Richard said to me with sharpness. “Alright? S’not an invitation. S’a requirement. No running off or tucking in early.”

I looked to Robert to see if I should laugh.

“Hey, cool it, alright?” Robert warned. “You’re scaring her.”

Richard seemed almost affronted. “I’m not scaring her. Am I scaring you?”

“I’m just not used to the way you all communicate,” I answered, trying not to let the nervousness permeate my voice.

“See?” Richard grinned. “Not scaring her. Not at all. Alright! I’ll be around if you need anything.” He stood up and jerked his finger toward the back. “Over there.”

Robert sighed. “Thanks, Richard.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replied and looked at me again. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yes,” I smiled and, as soon as he was out of earshot, added, “if I value my life.”

Robert laughed and put his arm around the back of my chair. “He means well.”

“And I thought Peter was bad…” I grumbled.

“It’s his job to keep us happy,” he replied, swilling his drink quickly. “By any means necessary.”

I swallowed. “Sounds like people who cross you end up with a bounty on their head.”

He snorted. “Yes, you could say that.”

I tasted my drink carefully, the anisey wormwood striking my tongue and hardening my jaw. “Don’t get me drunk.”

“Just enough to loosen you up, Julie Andrews.”

It was at that moment the stagelights shifted brighter while the house lights dimmed. There was a relative calming hush as the group of ragtag musicians filled the stage. I immediately straightened up in my seat and leaned forward. As if he was trying to hide in others’ shadows, there was John, crossing over to the bass guitar sitting on a stand at the edge of the stage. With his every movement, I noticed something new in him. The stagelights brought out the cherry undertones of his lucious hair, showed off different contours of his figure I hadn’t seen, gave him a clear confidence. While his stageclothes were rather tame compared to those hanging in the studio closet, they suited the occasion well: a yellow floral shirt with bishop sleeves, blue bell bottoms, a pair of sensible brown platforms (as oxymoronic as it sounds).

I drank in his every motion as if I was thirsting in the desert and he was water. John pulled the strap of the bass over his head, was distracted by another musician and looked over his shoulder with a laugh, and put his pick between his teeth to turn one of the tuners. Once he was done, he gave a look around, took a breath, and began to pluck out a woozy, cheerful set of notes.  

God, he was so fucking dear to me up there.

I’d been so consumed in watching him, that I hadn’t even noticed the lady of the hour, Maria Muldaur, move to the front of the stage and begin her song. “Well, I tried to run my game. She said, ‘Man, that’s the same old thing that you’ve played before…’”

Her plangeant croon captured the attention of the room. The olive-skinned woman exuded ease and glowed in her rainbow wrap top. And though her bounty of dark curls adorned with a red flower were demurely seductive to the audience, my eyes were constantly enraptured by the slick and inconspicuous bassist in the back corner.

“Play something sweet…something mellow…Play something I can sink my teeth in like Jello…”

I couldn’t get my heart to stop racing. This was an education. The feeling of music pulsing and winding, right there in front of me letting my brain turn off from the world and just thrive in an aural imagination.

As they moved into the second song, Robert touched my shoulder. “Relax, Julia.”

I was sitting stock straight, hands encircling my drink, and a stupid little smile on my face. I knew John couldn’t see me, probably wasn’t even looking for me. But I hoped he could feel me. I was sending everything I had across the room to him. I relaxed into Robert’s hand and smiled sheepishly at him.

“Midnight at the oasis…”

Robert needled his finger into my waist and I laughed.

“Send your camel to bed….”

“Send!” Robert and I whispered to each other in unison. 

I didn’t have much to compare it to, having never been to a concert where the main attraction to me was the bass guitarist, but I was enthralled watching John. He was focused and precise at every turn. His watchful eyes I had grown so accustomed to scanned the band as if it was his obligation. And every now and then, he let the fun he was having show on his lips in a smile, wondering at the surprising gifts the other musicians were giving him. I watched with wide of eyes as possible so it would be singed in my memory forever. 

“Look at you. All starry-eyed.”

“I’m not starry-eyed.”

Robert wrapped a curl of my hair around his finger. “Yes you are. Glimmering.” He didn’t take his eyes off me, watching me watch the stage. “You know, it’s just John.”

I was in so deep I could have stamped on his foot for that remark. “And I’m just Julia.”

He tsked me. “No, no, listen, listen. Like I was saying earlier. You need to keep an open mind.”

“You propositioning me?” I asked.

Robert furrowed his brow, affronted. “Me? No.”

“Because I know you’re married,” I replied, yanking the lock of my hair off his finger. I’d done plenty of research since my humiliation with Jimmy.

“I said no, didn’t I?” he said with a well-humored smile popping back on his face. “’sides, would never do that to John.” His eyes narrowed. “Or, I should say, I wouldn’t do that to John in circumstances such as these.”

I guffawed. “You’re terrible.”

“All I’m saying is that you should keep your options open, love. You never know where the night can take you. You’ve got eyes on you already.”

I glanced over my shoulder at the section. “No, you’ve got eyes on you.”

Robert shook his head vaguely, curls bobbling. “Right over there, Emerson, Lake, or Palmer has got his eyes on you. I can never remember which is which. And over there –“

“I’m not interested.” 

He leaned in closer, whispering in my ear, “You’ve been cooped up all this time with only one man like Adam and Eve and you don’t know the possibility beyond the Garden of Eden.”

“I don’t know the possibility in the Garden of Eden, either,” I remarked.

He raised an eyebrow, perpetual smirk twisting up to the side. “That’s true. That’s fair.”

“And ifwe’re to continue this comparison, you seem to be the snake,” I replied.

Robert sucked in his lower lip and stiffled a laugh. “I could make so many jokes right now and I’m holding my tongue because I’m a gentleman.”

I smacked his arm. “You’re anything but.”

“I try, at least give me that credit.”

I quietly watched John another few moments, my heart swollen and throbbing. “I don’t want to keep an open mind,” I said to Robert. Plainly, clearly. With no hesitiaton. Opening my ribcage and exposing my heart. “I know what I want.”

Robert’s eyebrows jumped as he took in what I said. He saw it now. “I understand what you mean. I know that feeling.”   

The rest of the performance our back and forth was warm and well-humored. My glass seemed to be conspicuously full of champagne every time I reached for it. Whether that was the work of Richard or a trick of the mind, I still can’t pin down.

“You’ve been such a great crowd tonight,” Maria announced after a particularly rousing number complemented by brass and a swinging cadence. “It’s been just a dream to be here. Another round of applause for the band!”

The audience followed her instructions wildly and heartily.

“I mean…I’ve been around the block before but…” she leaned toward the audience and held her hand over her mouth as if it was a secret. “These guys are the real deal!”

Polite chuckles echoed around the room.

“Special thanks to Mr. John Paul Jones of the Led Zeppelin who came through on a whim last night when I called his hotel room completely gassed out of my mind,” she said with a gesture to John who seemed to sink further into shadow for his unassuming bow of the head. 

Robert let out a whoop. “Thatta boy Stanley!” (I decided not to ask).

John eyes darted our way, squinting, most likely unable to see past the footlights.

“Mr. Jones. Oh, Mr. Jones...” she drawled. “Mr. Jones is responsible for our next selection.”

The pianist started a distant, tinkling tune.

Maria looked over her shoulder at John briefly. “He’s not too happy about it, though.”

John rolled his eyes and slunk into his corner as the audience laughed.

“This is for a girl I used to know in Connecticut. Or Vermont. One of those.”

Suddenly my brain attuned to the song plunking out of the piano. A descending jangle that I knew incredibly well. I thought my ears must being playing tricks on me.

Maria adjusted the mic and let it rip. “Bill…I love you so, I always will…”

“He hates this song,” I muttered in disbelief.

“Hm?”

I couldn’t keep from beaming. “He – John, he really hates this song.”

Robert cocked his head. “You look awfully happy about it.”

“And in your voice I hear a choir of carousels…”

‘Wedding Bell Blues’ – probably Laura Nyro’s most famous tune. Lyrically trite, musically uncomplicated. Maria sang it in her own way, lilting and light, not with the same bristling gusto, but it was still…perfect. I could have keeled over and died right there and felt like I had lived a full, beautiful life. Despite his loathe for the song, John played it adeptly and lithely as he had everything else, perhaps with a little more humor behind the eyes. The song, for everyone to hear, was a secret just for us. I couldn’t be alone in this.

“Is this one for you?” Robert asked softly in my ear.

I felt a swell of emotion in my chest. If I had uttered one word, I would have burst into tears.

“Oh, Julie Andrews, look at you,” he cooed and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. “You sweet girl.”

Sweet, naïve girl. I was desperate to look like a woman in the mirror and yet I hadn’t felt this young and “starry-eyed” in years. There might as well have been no audience, no singer, not a single other musician.

This song was for me. The song, this whole night. All mine.

I had to take my chance.

to be continued...

✨ For more of my writing, visit my masterlist. ✨

tag list:  @jimmys-zeppelin, @calico-skiess, @kari-12-10, @grxtsch, @edal-weis, @ritacaroline, @kyunisixx, @salixfragilis, @rogerfuckintaylor, @rebel-without-a-zeppelin, @jimmypages, @dollyvandal, @cassiana-it, @pinkleder, @angiesasadboy, @faisonsunreve, @sastrugie (always open for additions 💋)

[blakeboldt-blog]

Best Albums of 2019

Top 10:

"Jaime," Brittany Howard.

"In the Morse Code of Brake Lights," The New Pornographers.

"Between the Country," Ian Noe.

"Mint Condition," Caroline Spence.

"While I'm Livin'," Tanya Tucker.

"Father of the Bride," Vampire Weekend.

"Remind Me Tomorrow," Sharon Van Etten.

"Titanic Rising," Weyes Blood.

"Legacy! Legacy!" Jamila Woods.

"Walk Through Fire," Yola.

Honorable mention:

"U.F.O.F." Big Thief.

"Assume Form," James Blake.

"Shepherd in a Sheepskin Vest," Bill Callahan.

"This Land," Gary Clark, Jr.

"In Search of the Miraculous," Desperate Journalist.

"Magdalene," FKA Twigs.

"thank u, next," Ariana Grande.

"Terms of Surrender," Hiss Golden Messenger.

"On the Line," Jenny Lewis.

"Cuz I Love You," Lizzo.

"Stronger Than the Truth," Reba McEntire.

"Blood," Allison Moorer.

"Saves the World," MUNA.

"Songs of Our Native Daughters," Our Native Daughters.

"Pony," Orville Peck."

Jimmy Lee," Raphael Saadiq.

"Dépaysé," Sinkane.

"Sound & Fury," Sturgill Simpson.

"Eraserland," Strand of Oaks.

"Miss Universe," Nilüfer Yanya.

Songs: 

"Almeda," Solange.

"Ain't Got No Money," Justin Townes Earle.

"Bad Case," Lukas Nelson & Promise of the Real.

"Bags," Clairo.

“Bible and a .44," Trisha Yearwood.

"Black Patch," Kelsey Waldon.

"Blazing Highway Home," Josh Ritter.

"Blume," Nerija.

"The Bones," Maren Morris.

"A Boy Is a Gun," Tyler, the Creator.

"Burning," Maggie Rogers.

"Bus Route," Tyler Childers.

"Calliope," Cassius.

"Caught on the Inside," Ten Fé.

"Cheap Silver," Mike & the Moonpies.

"Cheatin' Songs," Midland.

"Circle Game," Pink.

"Count on Me," The Lone Bellow.

"Cruel Summer," Taylor Swift.

"Dark and Handsome," Blood Orange.

"Dark Places," Beck.

"The Daughters," Little Big Town.

"Delta Line," Emily Scott Robinson.

"Desert Man," Bat for Lashes.

"Don't Feel Like Crying," Sigrid.

"Estrella," Cass McCombs.

"Far from Home," Aubrie Sellers.

"Father," Robert Ellis.

"Fixture Picture," Aldous Harding.

"Freelance," Toro y Moi.

"Ghost," Kaina.

"Gone," Charli XCX.

"Gonna Write Me a Letter," Rhiannon Giddens/Francesco Turisi.

"Good Scare," TORRES.

"The Greatest," Lana Del Rey.

"Hallelujah," HAIM.

"He," Jai Paul.

"Heavy on My Mind," Mavis Staples.

"Hello Sunshine," Bruce Springsteen.

"Hey, Bus Driver!" Tami Nielsen.

"Hey, Ma," Bon Iver.

"Hold On," Aimee Mann.

"Hot Air Balloons," Tank and the Bangas.

"Hot Girl Summer," Megan Thee Stallion.

"Human Question," The Yawpers.

"Hungry Child," Hot Chip.

"Hurry on Home," Sleater-Kinney.

"Hurt," Gallant.

"I Don't Wanna Ride the Rails (No More)," Vince Gill.

"In the Capital," Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever.

"Incapable," Roisin Murphy.

"It's Time," Leonard Cohen.

"Jesus & Elvis," Hayes Carll.

"Lark," Angel Olsen.

"Light Years," The National.

"Lonely As You Are," Charles Bradley.

"Loose Change," Highwomen.

"Lovestained," Hope Tala.

"Lying Down," Celine Dion.

"Messed with My Mind," Molly Tuttle.

"Midnight Sun," Calexico/Iron & Wine.

"Mirage," Jessie Ware.

"Mirror in the Sky," Peaking Lights.

"Mother's Mother's Magazines," Cate le Bon.

"Nighttime Drive," Jay Som.

"No Bullets Spent," Spoon.

"On the Edge of Time," Jens Lekman.

"One More Song to Write," Willie Nelson.

"One Night Standards," Ashley McBryde.

"Open Book," Kalie Shorr.

"Patience," Tame Impala.

"A Perfect Wife," Frank Turner.

"Runner," Tennis.

"The Seduction of Kansas," Priests.

"Send Me a Postcard," Bob Mould.

"Shine a Little Light," The Black Keys.

"Sisyphus," Andrew Bird.

“Solid Ground," Michael Kiwanuka.

"Someone Else," Emotional Oranges.

"Sparrow," Emeli Sandé.

"Starry Night," Peggy Gou.

"Stay with Me," Hatchie.

"Suge," daBaby.

"Talk," Khalid/Disclosure.

"Tell the World I Do," Dee White."

That's Just the Way I Feel," Purple Mountains.

"The Thing That Wrecks You," Lady Antebellum w/ Little Big Town.

"Track Record," Miranda Lambert.

"Used to Be Lonely," Whitney.

"Virile," Moses Sumney.

"Want You in My Room," Carly Rae Jepsen.

"War in My Mind," Beth Hart.

"Water Me Down," Vagabon.

"Weeping Willow," Ruston Kelly.

"Where I Come From," Patty Griffin.

"Working on a Song," Todd Snider. 

"Xanny," Billie Eilish.

"Yellow Cloud," Trixie Mattel.

"You've Got Other Girls for That," Lillie Mae.

"Young Enough," Charly Bliss.

[reidecorating]

the bau team and their star signs based on science

hotch: clearly an aries. this is not up for debate and i don't take criticism. natural born and excellent leader? maybe. but bossy boots because he is just a bossy boss man who probably sleeps in a suit or those pyjamas that have suit graphics on them? most definitely. when he speaks, his voice sounds like it’s coming out in all lower case, when he yells, it’s all caps. angery. down to throw hands at anything in his immediate line of vision probably. will exterminate you like a roach if you mess with someone he cares about. don't break the rules or my boss will kill me 😡 to you're breaking the rules under MY supervision, that way my boss will kill US 🥰. probably microwaves food a lot. type of dad to say no to getting a dog, then two months later get matching christmas costumes with said dog. never stops working because he is an absolute UNIT built like the circuit of one of those infinity pools in bali. could use another sabbatical.

rossi: i saw his birth certificate and the rumours are true, he’s a november sagittarius. two wives away from being a modern day king henry the eighth. it’s rossi’s world and we’re all just living in it. he is a prophet. his third eye has been opened and he ascended to the seventh dimension at the age of 24. when he takes leave, the only way to contact him is through a ouija board in latin or maybe greek depending on the position of the sun. he will only die when he chooses to die but will dissolve at the words ‘what are we?’. the major arteries in his body are just long pieces of macaroni. definitely has hooked up with one person from every state the jet has landed in. no filter between his brain and mouth, will destroy your self confidence intentionally. uses abbreviations when texting. liberal - because of the experimenting back in college. probably friends with your mum on facebook.

prentiss: imagine her being anything but an air sign. you can't because she's clearly an aquarius?? work comes first (first equal with her girlfriend). if you tell her to do something she simply won't do it, especially if it was something she was just about to do. she once came home from a run with her mother in the summer and her mother politely suggested that she should drink some water. emily, an anarchist, did not drink water and was hospitalised for heatstroke in due course of proving her point of nonconformity. has been to jail. sucks on candy canes and makes them pointy because christmas is one of her least favourite days. on probation. no, i really like him *deletes his number*. maybe moves to iceland to become a sheep herder to avoid having to ever see anyone she has romantically affiliated with ever again. actually quite the jester, joke levels exceed 4000, but can make you laugh and cry in the span of approximately the length of a short youtube ad. the antichrist.

morgan: has at some point caused someone to question their sexuality. am i really a straight man? do i really only like women? - direct quotes from anyone who has seen him. if that doesn't scream libra i don't know what does. i’m trying to refrain from using the words ‘hot’, ‘sex god’, ‘rail me’. the kinda guy who will hold open a door for you, but also have no problem kicking one down for you. has never ditched class before. momma’s boy. tries to make his pecs move in the mirror. he KNOWS he’s hot okay??? but THEN its not just that because people are like ‘oh he's attractive’ but then they find out he’s RESPECTFUL, and INTELLIGENT and COMPASSIONATE and then that awkward moment when you just DIE because he is not flawed??? it’s like he’s a lucid dream??? probably secretly is really good at baking some obscure european good. uses colognes that have really manly man sounding names for instance, ‘Man Musk’, ‘Mystical Muscles’, ‘Beards and Buttercream’.

garcia: the epitome of a female pisces. a baddie™. definitely owns a pair of those really skinny sunglasses that influencers wear and looks like god herself while in them. spirals from being the momma bear to the wine-aunt. she will care about you so hard but if that's not reciprocated, will hack into your my eyes only and fax those pictures to every machine she can connect to. accidentally has flirted her way into at least 19 relationships. really good at writing fan fiction??? like - seriously good. knows 4 different synonyms for the word “member” iykyk. researches things the people she loves most enjoy, so when she talks to them she can have more detailed conversations. catches feelings for people who are definitely not good for her. sometimes just takes off her glasses because she's tired of, well... seeing. hand makes cute lil earrings for her friends. a master at fireboy and watergirl and will never play with anyone else because ‘another player just slows you down, i can do it myself in half the time’. THAT FRIEND WHO WILL WAIT FOR YOU TO TIE YOUR LACES.

jj: virgo. she was definitely that girl who had notes with pretty titles and colour coded highlighters in school. also did extracurriculars in the weekends so she’d have to be picked up from sleepovers early to go to soccer games. when she takes the time to learn something she learns it well and perfects any craft handed to her because anything less than 100% is failure in her eyes. gets annoyed when other people cry for too long probably. will judge you. so much. silently. especially if you cry. don't make her mad because she has caused civil unrest in 13 continents. live, laugh, love signs in her kitchen. security footage surfaced in 2007 of her roundhouse kicking a middle aged man, in the junk food aisle of a trader joe’s, after he took the last re-stocked bag of cheetos. has a ‘mom first, agent second’ mug that garcia got her. likes family walks which will most likely be planned out meticulously, involving a detailed itinerary of the day i.e. Henry’s toilet break, 10AM

reid: he despises star signs and anyone who gives them any thought because “where is the SCIENCE?” this bitch is a scorpio. definitely only knows his sun sign. so intense! have you seen the way he looks at things?? the way he stares??? the way he analyses dead bodies??? the way he loves??? ridiculously put together to everyone around him but emotionally life is soup and he is fork. kinky. breaks off bananas little by little with his hands before eating each piece individually because eating them normally is too sensual and he’s paranoid morgan might see him doing it and take a picture. wants the kind of love he reads about. has a superiority complex about having a superiority complex. keeps a straight face while saying literally anything so you cannot tell if he’s being serious or not like one day he’ll just be like “yeah i killed a man with an axe once to enable myself to more easily empathise with future unsubs who potentially work as lumberjacks or have a history of logging. it’s called method axing,” and then leave the room to draw circles on maps or something. believes that parallel parking should work, in theory, but never seems to work for him in practice.

[daydream-believin]

The Never-Ending Roadtrip (kmart’s haunted)

Summary: (part 1) Reader has joined Douxie on the quest for Nari’s safety. He’ll need company. (part 2) - Missouri 1     (part 3)

Warnings: swearing, very light spooky?

Word Count: 2245

A/N: so we’ve established that Doux wasn’t the one who burnt the bookstore, but they don’t know that. look, have you been in a Kmart recently? its apocalyptic. also, you know that post about people repeating their default work greetings by accident? yeah

“Do you want me to split the bill or?” The waitress asked, not sure if the group at the table was a young couple and their child or just three college kids hanging out. It was kind of hard to tell. On one hand, that one kid was so small, wearing a little deer costume, and had been helped to order. The other two radiated the energy of an old married couple and talked mainly to each other. But on the other hand, college kids are just like that sometimes.

“Nah, I got it.”

“What? No. I’m paying for us.” Douxie insisted.

“I have the cash, Doux.” (Name) turned to the waitress. She put some honey in her voice. “Just bring us one bill, please.” The waitress nodded nervously before heading off.

“No. I don’t want you paying for too many things while we’re traveling. You’re unemployed.”

“And who’s fault is that Mr. Mephits-Are-Vulnerable-To-Fire? You fucking burned down the store and put us both out of work here.” Nari was squirming at the negative vibes going on. It helped that she didn’t exactly understand what was going on.

“It was magic fire!” Douxie interjected in outrage. He looked so cute when he got defensive.

“Yeah, okay, sure.” (Name) shook her head, looking up to the ceiling. She let out a huff, “look, I invited myself onto this trip, Douxie. I want to pull my own weight. You’re going to have to let me pay for something eventually.”

“We’ll see about that, Love,” he said as he grabbed the ticket from the waitress’s hands as quick as lightning, tucked his card in and gave it right back before (Name) could further protest.

“Ugh! FINE! Then I’m getting the tip.” She pulled out a tenner and slapped it onto the table. She glared right back into Douxie’s hazel eyes. He glared right back into hers with a matched intensity. Nari looked back and forth between the two and whimpered. (Name) broke the standoff to assure Nari that they weren’t actually angry at each other so she shouldn’t be worried. That seemed to ease the forest child a bit but not by too much. She could still feel the weird aura they were putting off.

“Okay! So here’s your check back and here’s that lox bagel you ordered to go.” The waitress handed (Name) a doggy bag.

(Name) took the bag gingerly. A big fake smile spread across her face as she was momentarily possessed by that good spirit of customer service. “Thank you! I hope your experience was spellbinding! Have a magical day!” (Name) said on autopilot in that high-pitched voice and winked exaggeratedly. It was like she was an NPC and her talk button had been accidentally pushed. The waitress laughed forcibly and scurried away to the kitchen. Douxie cracked up.

“You do know that when I told you to say all that stuff after ringing people up, I was hazing you, right?”

“Oh yes, I am completely aware, Doux. Did you think I’d not pick up on how ridiculous that sounds? But I still say it to spite you.”

He shook his head. “Of course.”

***

Archie scarfed down his bagel sandwich with almost disturbing speed. It was like watching the void consume, well, a bagel sandwich. It just disappeared. Down his furry maw and out of existence. Being a dragon works up an appetite, after all. (Name) was a bit baffled and asked him if she should go get him another bagel. He assured her that the one was just fine and said something about trying to catch some birds later. She leaned back on her elbows against the boat’s railing, trying and failing to not think about the details of that.

Douxie cleared his throat. “So,” He folded his hands together for emphasis, “Since the subject of money came up earlier, I think we should also discuss the topic of our accommodations.”

“Well, you two obviously cannot afford lodging every night.” Archie snarked, flicking his tail.

“Thank you, for that, Arch. No, I was thinking more along the lines of a tent.”

“A tent?” the cat asked incredulously.

“Oh, that could work.” (Name) pointed at Douxie animatedly, “keep us close to nature for Nari. And also could keep our possible property damage bills down. Good idea, Doux.”

“Thank you,” Douxie puffed up, “see Arch? Someone appreciates my ideas-”

“Wait. That’ll be a short-term solution. We’re just barely into September. It’s going to be much, much colder in about a month. By October it’ll be too cold to bear. Even if we all huddle together like penguins.”

Doux looked away to hide his blush at the suggestion. “That is a problem. Okay, um-”

“Maybe we could just cross that bridge when we get there? Who knows what could happen between now and then. We could find so temp work in a little town somewhere.” (Name) shrugged, smirking at Doux. She didn’t want to admit that ‘we could be dead by then’ was also definitely a possibility on the table, so she tried to further distract from that thought. “Maybe we’ll find a creepy abandoned cabin in the woods we can squat in. Maybe some nice trolls will take us in as novelty pets. Maybe my rich Aunty Josie could just suddenly die under some ‘mysterious circumstances’ and leave her lavish fortune to her beloved niece,” she smirked at Doux, “I dunno, just spit ballin’ here.”

“I’m electing to ignore that you just suggested we ice your aunt because you were onto something there.”

“I was?” Her tone was a mixture of sarcasm and disbelief.

“Yes! New Jersey!

“New Jersey?” The wheels turned. “Oh! New Jersey!”

Nari looked confused. “What is special about this ‘New Jersey’?” she asked

Both Douxie and (Name) turned to her, “Trolls.” They said in sync.

***

(Name) stood there with her hands in her pockets. Somehow this Kmart was still standing, out here in The-Middle-Of-Fucking-Nowhere, Missouri. She was standing here, in a Kmart. It might as well have been 1986. There was barely anything on the shelves. Half the shelves themselves were missing. The floor had a layer of grime to it, in spite of the wet floor sign along with the shiny patches that said that it had clearly been mopped recently. The air smelled like something (Name) couldn’t quite place, but it was nostalgic. A strange scent that took her back to her childhood. Or at least she thought it was her childhood. It had to have been. Taking deep breaths, she couldn’t quite get enough of it.

Continuing that vibe, a muzak 80’s tune played over the speakers. Funny enough, despite (Name)’s brain seeming to recognize that it was playing a song from the 80’s, she just couldn’t quite put her finger on it as to which. Every time she thought she’d figured it out, she’d hear a few notes that would somehow change her mind. It was a pop song at least, to narrow it down. It’d been going on for about six minutes now. Must be one of those extended tracks.

She’d ask Douxie what he thought the song was. She turned her attention to him and noticed he was still just staring at that same shelf like he had been for, what, ten minutes now? Even though this fucking Kmart barely had any shelving in it, by some miracle it not only had exactly what they were looking for but an entire aisle of them. How lucky was that.

Douxie was taking very careful consideration into this tent purchase. This was going to be their new home, after all. He just couldn’t decide which one was best. They all had fancy camping terms on the packages that meant nothing to him. He’d been trying to decipher the code. The secret outdoorsman code. Nari shifted uncomfortably in the basket.

“Hisirdoux, you should maybe, hurry this along?” She sounded strained.

But she was right. He should just pick one already. It’s all a gamble anyway. He decided on a dark green one that boasted a water-proof material. Good natural color, not easily spotted, and it wouldn’t soak through with rain. That should work well enough, he figured.

“I’ve hurried along. Sorry Nari.” He casually tossed the box into the cart next to her. She sniffed the box and nodded to him.

Now that they had their goal item, the quest party started for the checkouts. Douxie could have sworn that it had been on the side of the store they were in. They had passed it when they came in. Now it was completely across by the other door. Did he get turned around? Or maybe they did come in from that side of the store. He actually couldn’t remember.

As they walked, a few things caught (Name)’s eye. They passed a display of dark leafy plants in oddly shaped pots, a table stacked high with various books and a clearance sign, a knife case that had been left open, a candle display with a few that had already been lit and were dripping wax, a bargain bin of CDs, and lastly a sad box of no-longer-in-season pool noodles. There was a sale on bloodmeal apparently. Perfect for perking up those roses after the summer heat.

They arrived at the checkout after what felt like an endless journey. (Name) hadn’t noticed any other customers the entire time they had been there, and yet the line for the only check open had seven people in it. She grabbed a couple bags of red licorice from the impulse shelf to add to their cart while waiting.

Nari was really interested in that checker. (Name) took her in. The teen was taller than most and had very, very long blonde hair that cascaded down her back like a shiny golden waterfall. Her cheeks were slightly sunken in. Must be going through a diet phase. Poor girl.

The young woman was obviously not one for small talk. Name couldn’t blame her. Retail sucks. Her perfect red fingernails clicked against the keys of the register in a practiced beat. She turned around and told them their total in a bored monotone. As Douxie fiddled with his wallet and payed, (Name) found herself staring right into the cashier’s eyes. They were such a light icy blue, they were almost white. It was striking. (Name) was almost in a trance. It was broken as the cashier turned around swiftly to rip off the receipt off the machine, and, in an uncharacteristically cheery voice, told them to have a nice night. Night?

They returned the cart back to the stack, grabbing their one singular shopping bag and helping Nari out. Of course Nari could easily just jump out herself, but that wouldn’t be something a human child could do. They didn’t need to draw any unnecessary attention to themselves here. They made their way to the automatic sliding doors that lagged so that they didn’t open until you were standing right in front of them. This allowed Douxie time to catch a glimpse of the reflection in the glass. The reflection of the store was completely devoid of people. Not even the checker was at her station. He sucked in a breath. After walking through those first doors, he stopped. He took a moment to turn back. There she was, right where she should be, checking out another customer with three more in the line.

Douxie hurried along the doorway to catch up to (Name) and Nari. It was darker outside than he expected, and he was taken aback. He found them right outside the store, waiting for him. In one hand, (Name) was holding Nari’s, in the other, the plastic shopping bag. Her head was tipped up to the sky, transfixed by the moon. He came over, grabbing her shoulder as he pulled her along, in an attempt to urge her away from this place. She looked back at him, eyes wide with distress. He tried to convey that he understood with his eyes. All three of them instinctually knew not to say anything more why they were still in this parking lot.

It had barely been half past noon when they had started this little Kmart side quest. It was now at least seven by the looks of it. They had spent six and a half hours in a Kmart? How had they spent six and a half hours in a Kmart. There went their entire travel day. But no time to dwell on this, they needed to get back to Archie and the boat as soon as possible.

As they walked back towards the ship, (Name) and Douxie both took one of Nari’s hands so that she was in the middle, like how those couples walk with their children. The streetlights glared up at them in the slick pavement. Apparently, it had rained while they were in shopping limbo. Poor Arch. (Name) let out a puff of air.

“Well. That sure was something.”

Douxie nervously chuckled, “If we had stayed in there any longer, I think we might have died.” (Name) mirrored that nervous chuckle.

“Oh, no, dying would be much simpler than what would have happened to us.” Nari said sweetly, like what she was saying was somehow better. Nari liked being helpful. (Name) put on her best fake smile.

“Thank you, Nari.” She tried her best to sound as sincere as possible to spare the veggie lady’s feelings.

[a-portable-snack]

@writer-who-cant-write135​ Thank you so much for your ask! Wanna take a stab at what city I live in? 

Detroit and Chill

Kai looked at the rubber duck sitting next to his computer. He just read his entire code out loud to said duck but it still won’t run properly. And the duck didn’t warn him it won’t.

“Ugh! This doesn’t work.” He tossed the duck behind him.

“Ouch!”

Kai turned to realize he didn’t hear Adam come into their dorm… which is somehow impressive on Adam’s part for being so quiet and Kai’s part for being so focused.

“Sorry, man. This code is driving me insane. I want to send it over to Reeve to look over but I also don’t want to send it over and have him be like ‘This is 100% wrong’” Kai rubbed his neck and turned back to his computer. He knows its probably a simple thing he’s missing and he doesn’t want Reeve to find it.

Kai went to start typing but his chair was suddenly pulled back. Adam stepped in-between Kai and his computer and started typing something.

“Adam! Don’t mess with the code! I know you’re smart but I know you know NOTHING about code.”

“You’re right but Reeve does. I just sent it to him and you’re taking a break with me while he looks it over.” Adam turned back to Kai.

“You had no right to do that!” Kai stood up so he was eye to eye with Adam “Just because you seem to be ahead on your work and are bored doesn’t mean you can get between me and my work!”

“I’m sorry” Adam put his hands in the air to surrender “but it’s definitely the only way you’ll step away. I’ve been here for 20 minutes and you didn’t realize I came in. You’re hyper-fixating, overworking, and getting nothing done. I know I stepped over a line but I will do it again if it means you won’t work yourself to the ground!”

Kai knew he was right. Last year, Adam never stepped between Kai and his work and Kai’s perfectionist tendencies and ADHD had him almost to the hospital from overworking. Adam was just trying to help and take care of him. But Kai can still be mad.

“So,” Adam caught Kai’s eyes. “We are going out to do something fun. We’re going distract you until Reeve emails back saying what you’re missing and it’s ok that you needed help because Robotic and Megatronic engineering is hard as fuck.”

“Fine, but you’re fucking wining and dining me asshole.”

“Valid” Adam smiled and grabbed his coat. Kai had to change his close because his Pokemon pajama pants won’t cut it. Adam was on his phone searching for something when Kai came out of the bathroom.

“Let’s go!” Adam’s eyes were bright as he grabbed Kai’s hand. Adam pulled Kai all the way to Adam’s car.

“Adam! Not all of us are in perfect shape. SLOW DOWN!”

“Dude I’m so excited about this! It’s going to be so much fun” Adam jumped into his car. By the time Kai was in the passenger seat, Adam was buzzing. Adam’s excitement was infectious and Kai just smiled as Adam started driving. Kai couldn’t look away as Adam sped through the streets of Detroit.

Detroit is such an interesting place to live because there’s so many different types of people all smashed into southeast Michigan. So Adam could be taking him to anything between a cool tour of some car museum to Mexican Town having a deal on tamales. Kai really hopes its the latter. Adam’s mom has set standards for tamales that only Mexican Town can compete with.

When Adam followed the highway to the Riverwalk, Kai started to think they were heading to the GM building. But Adam turned away from it.

“Are we heading to Campus Martius?” Kai asked.

“Kind of! We’re going to Lafayette Coney then we’re heading to Campus Martius” Adam parked next to the historical coney place and Kai excitedly jumped out.

“Yes! I need a good coney! We can walk to Campus Martius from here. I’ll cover parking” Kai pulled this wallet out to put in the coins.

“No no no! Wining and dining remember!” Adam stood in front of Kai and took his wallet out of his hand. Adam reached around and put the wallet into Kai’s back pocket.

“I-i was joking” Kai couldn’t stop the blush from spreading across his face. Adam noticed and smirked at him.

Adam didn’t know what to do with Kai. The boy was adorable and smart and god they worked together so well. They’ve lived together for 2 years now in the dorms and they are a well oiled machine. It was almost impossible not to fall in love. But Adam truly did try. Adam tried to limit how much he talked with Kai over the summer so he could get some distance. Adam thought he had gotten rid of his feelings. He started to open up communication again and was ok with their relationship. Then Adam sent a snap of Captain America saying ‘My type of man’ and you want to know how this motherfucker responded?

I guess I need to work out. I GUESS I NEED TO WORK OUT. WHAT THE FUCK?

So Adam has feeling still and doesn’t know what to do. But here they were. On something that could be considered a date. Just, vibing.

“Let’s walk and eat” Adam said after he paid for the hot dogs. “I know the line at Campus MArtius will be long”

“Why?” Kai asked, mouth full.

“It’s the first day that the ice skating ring is open!” Adam put his hands up in excitement. Kai seemed to shrink down little.

“O-oh! That sounds fun! It’ll be great” Adam noticed the hesitance and feared he made the wrong choice.

“If you don’t want to ice skate we can do something else! I know there’s heated huts that shops rent out, the Riverwalk’s open, there’s a bar or two…”

“It’s fine! I’ve just never ice skated before so I’m kinda nervous” Kai fiddled with the wrapper on his coney.

“Don’t worry,” Adam snuck an arm around Kai’s waist and whispered in his ear. “I won’t let you fall.”

For moment, Adam thought Kai was going to jump away and blush but he was surprised. Instead, Kai leaned into Adam and said, “You better not.”

It was Adam’s turn to blush and become a flustered. Adam can usually serve out flirtatious comments like nothing but the moment they come back at him, he’s a puddle. And receiving flirting back from Kai, who usually shies away? Nope, Adam isn’t emotionally prepared for it.

“O-ok”

Kai laughed and laced his fingers between Adam’s. He seemed hesitant at first but when Adam firmly held his hand, a smile spread across his face.

“Let’s go get in line”

They finished their coneys and ran to rent skates. There were already a bunch of people on the small ring but Adam was ready to get out there.

“Ok! This doesn’t look too hard!” Kai watched people going around as he laced up his skates.

“You think so?” Adam smirked.

“Yeah! I’ll be fine.”

He was not fine.

Adam hit the ice and skated right off. He was able to file into the crowd nicely. He was graceful and obviously knew what he was doing. Kai on th other hand put on foot on the ice and immediately lost control. He gripped the rail like a life line tried to figure out his feet. They kept seeming to go in every which way.

Kai looked up and saw Adam rounding the corner to come back to him. He held himself up against the wall and pretended he wasn’t struggling as much as he was. Adam skidded to a stop next him.

“How’s it going?”

“Oh you know! It’s simple. Just gliding” Kai tried to brush off the fact that he could barely hold himself up.

“Come on. Let me take you around” Adam offered a hand with a small smile. Kai smiled back at his and took his hand. Kai pushed off the rail and immediately lost his balance.

“Adam, why is this so hard?” Kai clutched Adam’s arm like it was a life source. Somehow Adam was just skating like it was walking. Fuck him.

“Ha, for some reason physics doesn’t work when it comes to ice skating” Adam laughed. Adam pulled away little and Kai pulled him closer.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Don’t worry!” Adam was trying so hard not to laugh at him. Adam held onto Kai hand and flipped around to skate backwards and pull Kai along.

“You just wanted to show off you could skate backwards”

“Maybe” Adam smiled “It’s also the best way to learn. Just focus on holding your hips steady and switching your weight from left to right. When you switch, give a gentle push.”

Kai followed Adam’s instructions, watching his feet and focusing on his weight. Kai found a rhythm as they made it around the ice rink at a reasonable pace. Adam smiled at Kai, unable to hold anything back. God, if only Kai knew what he did to Adam.

“You got it!”

“You’re right! This is easy.”

Kai looked up at Adam and he saw all the love and excitement. It was overwhelming. Suddenly, Kai completely lost all since of control and was falling. Adam wasn’t ready for it and fell with him. So there they were shocked, laying on cold ice, in the middle of a crowded rink. Suddenly and eight year old skated by with the grace of a figure skater.

“Tsk, lame”

Adam and Kai look at each other in shock then burst out laughing. Of course they would get called lame by an eight year old. Adam shift to get them up. Kai felt like a baby horse trying to find his legs on the ice. This rink really does seem to say fuck physics.

“Now that our pride is throughly bruised, can I interest you in a hot chocolate?”

“Definitely”

Adam led them to the edge and they stepped on to normal land.

“Is it bad I’m tempted to kiss the ground?”

“Definitely, this is Detroit. We have no idea what is going on down there.”

“Valid, not doing that.”

Adam was still holding onto Kai as they ordered their hot chocolates. They sat in the warming tent at a table. They talked and drank hot chocolate. They were completely lost within each other. Loudly talking about dumb teachers, and new Netflix shows, and that one kid on their floor who they swear is a wizard.

“No, I’m joking. He has a pet centipede in his dorm. I’m pretty the RAs are letting him keep it because they don’t want to have confiscate it. It freaks me out.” Kai laughed.

“There’s no way. I had a FISH they took away! I had to pull out a handbook to prove I could have him.” Adam shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” the girl that was working behind the counter came up to them. “It’s time for us to close down. You need to return your skates and head home so we can close.”

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! We’re leaving right now!” Adam and Kai picked up their stuff and quickly left Campus Martius.

“Sorry I kept you out so late.” Adam said when they got to his car. He rubbed his neck nervously. Kai grabbed Adam’s free hand and pulled .

“Don’t be sorry. I should be thanking you. I really needed this. I would still be hunched over code, probably crying, if it weren’t for you. So, thank you.” Kai leaned gently into Adam with a soft smile.

Kai was suddenly kissing Adam. Kai wasn’t 100% what convinced him to do it but he couldn’t get the look Adam had on his face in the ice rink out of his head. Adam immediately leaned into the kiss and used his free hand to hold Kai’s cheek. Kai pulled back with a smile on his face.

“I’m so happy you kissed back because the drive would have been so awkward.”

Adam started laughing. He pulled Kai in for another kiss. His wide smile made it very difficult to properly kiss. Kai wrapped his arms around Adam’s waist. Kai pulled away and buried his face in the crook of Adam’s neck. Adam held him close.

“Let’s head back to the dorm.” Kai said. “I have a bag of popcorn and an illegal download of Mutant Spiders Paradise calling our names.”

“Sounds great” Adam unlocks his car and they went home.

[moncherifaerie]

summer nights - k.hj

pairing: kim hongjoong x reader / bestfriend!hongjoong

mostly angst, a dash of fluff

warnings: none

author’s note: i’m listening to “wave” and feeling happy and sad at the same time and this is what comes out of it, enjoy ♡

it was a beautiful night tonight.

it’s been so long since i’ve seen the stars with how much air pollution has increased over the years, separating me from another world far away from here. i’ve always wondered if i have another life somewhere else, but in that life, i’m able to live out that happily ever after i’ve always wanted.

“what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” hongjoong asked me as he walked back out to the back terrace after getting the two of us iced tea.

i thanked him for the drink before taking what felt like the world’s longest sip ever as i tried to think of how to put my words together properly.

“you already know what it is, joong.” a soft chuckle following my statement as i plastered a mask on my face.

a light chuckle escaped passed his lips as he gently shoved me before turning his head and diverting his attention completely out towards the ocean view that was in front of us.

“oh, are you thinking about what me and jongho would look like walking down the aisle together? because if so, that’s never happening except in another life.” hongjoong laughed as he shook his head and slightly leaned on the railing.

there was a comfortable silence between us as the waves crashed against the shore a few miles away from the house the two of us were staying in.

i was about to break the silence when hongjoong beat me to it.

“don’t worry so much about getting into a relationship right now, (y/n). you’ll find someone who’ll be with you till the end. when the time comes where you do meet that someone, you are obligated by the best friend code to bring them over to me and areum so we can deem if they’re good enough for you.”

it took everything in me to not a) roll my eyes, b) burst out into tears, and c) yell at hongjoong at the brief mention of her name. the thing is, i had no right to do any of those things because everything about.....areum......just screamed PERFECTION for, not only hongjoong, but everyone around him as well. they were the perfect duo for one another because they balance each other out so well even if they are complete opposites. despite how different they are, something must’ve been going smoothly from the beginning when hongjoong pounded at my front door at 4am that one summer night three years ago when he told me he met the amazing girl he swore he would’ve married in an instant if it wasn’t for the fact that they just met.

i remember that night so clearly despite how late it was and i was procrastinating some school work that needed to get done for the next school day. after hongjoong’s sudden announcement, that work was never completed that night and i would’ve failed if i didn’t swallow down my bruised pride and spent endless nights at the library just to have an excuse to avoid hongjoong and any other news he had about his new girl.

it felt like air was constricted in my chest as i struggled to get the words out, but i tried my best to continue the conversation as smoothly as i could.

“well, there was this guy at the bar today, he got me a drink and was really sweet to me. maybe i’ll bump into him again while we’re here and get somewhere with him.” i lied straight through my teeth.

there was no “guy at the bar that got me a drink and was super sweet to me.” the only guy that i encountered when me and hongjoong went to the bar was the bartender and he didn’t even bat his lashes at me after he got me my drink. hongjoong was the only guy that got me a drink and was super sweet to me.

but this connection between me and hongjoong, this friendship, could never go farther than what it is.

not when he’s getting married in the next week and expecting a child with areum a few months after their wedding.

he sighed then shot me a small smile as he put his hand on top of mine, “don’t worry, you’ll find someone. but if anyone ever makes you feel uncomfortable, we can always pretend that we’re in love with each other this summer.”

[stronghours]

THREE QUEENS OF DOMESTICITY

Ava’s husband Reuben, as Ava informed Domme Lux in the unfinished basement beforehand, had only contributed to the collaring ceremony through draping the gaping drywall with swags of lavender gauze and twinkle lights from Christmas, which blistered the fabric in a damp whimsy Lux hadn’t thought the man capable. But then, Ava said, she had never brought a boy into the household before, and she thought it was only fair to respect Reuben’s distance in the matter. Where he was, she didn’t say. Evey, one of the four usual girls, was already naked but for papery hospitality slippers and trying to tame the blank concrete with a shredded mop. She squeezed the handle to a thin, practical breast each time she lost hope. Her clavicle was tense with little red marks.

Ava sat on her own padded stool applying lotion to her arms as she held court with Lux, Celeste and other colleagues regarding the guest list and particulars. She possessed downy Marilyn Monroe skin and her expression was luminous, while Lux, simultaneously underdressed, clammy, and overheated (it was summer, high noon outside, but Halloweentown below) started to feel the depression sink in. She’d chosen to wear a sleeveless mock turtleneck cinched in via a skintight pencil skirt and knee-high chunk pumps, and it all looked charming enough to her when she texted a picture to Jules. Sexual language arts teacher or Lorelai Gilmore season 1-2? She’d typed. But Jules had been AWOL since Thursday and now Lux had no chaperone and no wisdom. Ava didn’t let it go unremarked.

“It’s June,” she informed, like Lux didn’t know. “So, he’s sucking up to his leather daddies and his drag queens, while the rest of us behave like grown-ups. Correct?”

Guests arrived. Lux decided on strategic retreat and glued her spine to a far swampy corner and gradually became happier to have interpreted the dress code on the conservative side. Ava sent out the invite via her personal newsletter, with the esoteric instruction to dress within the modes of business or pleasure and it became clear of the basement filling nobody had made a collective interpretation. Celeste, shivering underneath her partner’s bomber jacket had prevailed on a frail sundress and the man in front of Lux wore a boxy Uniqlo blazer on top and a polyester jockstrap that read PIG BOY in an eternal ring around the waist. His white ass loomed beneath her line of vision, a sobering reality check to Evey and the other girls kneeling like wraiths up front, their smudged outlines harkening more toward Salo than Ava would ever intend.

Candles were lit. Lux could not get rid of the haunted house excess bringing her mood down, even as Ava, up front on her dais and methodically strapping her bagged up new boy onto his striker frame, vamped in a costumy corset of sectional purple brocade (Jules) opera-length latex mittens (Jules) and slick black shoulder plate and hood of indeterminate material (no doubt made by an enemy of Jules), and if Jules himself would ever show up, as promised, Lux could decide what was worse: Ava mixing materials or mixing designers.

But what was worst above all, she already knew, was that three poems had already been read and Ava was reading one still. She read one stanza per one buckle. Her new boy, before being lowered into his body bag, had read one himself to clarify his submission. His face had been beaky and palling. He had flat blue eyes. She liked him much better totally hidden from view and wondered how a hardline heterosexual like Ava could entertain delicate styles in women but such insipid taste in dudes.

A ray of light split the room like a knife and vanished. A couple people moaned, blinded in one eye. The crowd to Lux’s left grunted and spat, ruffled, then parted. She didn’t notice Jules until he had a cold hand behind her neck. Even with walls on both her sides, he found a blind spot.

He stuck his tongue in her ear, knowing full well she couldn’t shout him down in this scenario. “What’s up sugar,” he said, barely acceptably hushed. “How many poems has it been?”

“And the moonrise over the hill,” Ava recited, yanking a new strap, “Rises in tune – to your mind upon my person – to your body upon my person – to your devotion to my person –”

“It’s been this one for a while,” Lux said. She grabbed him and squashed him to her side. You had to meet Jules nuisance per nuisance when he felt energetic, or he’d trample you to death. When he was overbearing, she preferred him coldhearted, and when he was frosty, she preferred him needy. It was wedding season, and he hadn’t had enough brides to wear him out. “What took you so long?”

“Stopped for food. I’ve been up for uh…thirty-six hours.”

PIG BOY’s head turned back fractionally, then he thought better of looking and faced front.

“Wedding?”

“Shereen Allure made the Miss Continental Elite lineup. She got her hooks in me. She needs an evening gown, an interview moment, talent outfit that’ll stay together through the twenty fucking backflips I know she’ll want to do – baby, sweetie, honey, let me just stone you a fucking leotard, but no, she wants everything to sweep the toes. Insanity.” Jules craned his head around PIG BOY’s shoulder, and, seeing the wild look on his face, she wormed her hand underneath his shirt and pinched his ribs before he could think of speaking above sotto voice.

“Work function,” she warned. “Work function!”

“I wouldn’t go to my boss’s wedding,” Jules said, but he shriveled back into her shoulder obediently. “Gross. What’s she wearing?”

“A couple things of yours.”

“Against medical advice.”

Ava’s boy was buckled in midway up his ribs. They had to last to the neck. Somebody close to the front of the house darted forward to re-light the tea candles extinguished in their little glasses, scattered among Ava’s stilts. Lux thought: Suck-up.

“Cocksucker,” Jules hissed into her neck.

Profound is your sacred neck –

Ava claimed.

And affectionate, my lips, on its nape –

The boy in the bag didn’t judder or wince or squirm or move an inch. If Lux hadn’t been around to watch him step inside it, she would have considered him a mannequin. More guests arrived, fashionably late, and she and Jules alternately jostled the roach hotel between her ankles as they bandied to stay upright. PIG BOY had enough of them and forced his way further into crowd.

“What’s his name, anyway?” Jules asked, of bag-boy.

“Shawn. Mark. Uh…Jake.”

“Fucking John Donne up there has a boner for a goddamn Cody.” Jules wiped his nose on her shoulder. “I can’t breathe down here. Come on, ta-ta.”

The basement door opened into a little cairn staircase and led them blinking into the lawn (a lawn!) a black walnut tree dripping with green baubles (a tree!). Jules assisted her over the porch railing (a porch!) and spanked the dust from the seat of her skirt. They entered the gleaming kitchen, already occupied by Ava and Rueben’s straightest friends who, thin-lipped, met their sangrias with unenthusiasm.

“One thing I will say for Ava,” said a woman wearing a mock turtleneck similar to Lux’s own, “She certainly has…flair.”

A man turned to Jules and asked, helplessly, how long these things lasted. The preliminaries, Jules asked, or the mingling, or the primary ceremony, or the potluck or the afterparty? And while he laid out the etiquette Lux stared at the dustless countertops and the seafoam green cabinets, smooth to the touch, and their silver handles and the tile floor and the padded breakfast nook with its stained glass overhead light and the jazzy track lights situated over the looming kitchen island. Lysol lingered underneath the tawny fumes of a candle labeled CARMEL TRUFFLE SUNDAE and the photo pasted to the candle, she was ashamed to say, made her hungry. A kitchen-aide, which Lux had seen featured in some of Ava’s private photoshoots, gleamed, an untouchable ruby atop a mounted wall cabinet.

Jules’s conversation partner said he had tried to muscle through the ceremony but one of Ava’s slaves (the man himself hedged, politely, and referred to her as Ava’s housemaid) had accidentally brushed him with her nude bosom and he thought, well, better safe than sorry and beat it to safer pastures. “I don’t want to get her in trouble,” he claimed. The sangria was doing nothing to free him from this downward spiral of nakedness.

The mock turtleneck woman held the pitcher out to Lux for a sniff. “It’s virgin,” she pronounced, disgusted.

Jules shifted his backpack into the nook. He removed a pair of purple Easy Spirit pumps, a wad of pantyhose cut off at the thigh, two rolls of duct tape, a greasy paper bag from a Vienna Sausage, a Ziplock of loose bronze eyelets, a lacy bridal bralette and ouvert panty set Lux thought she had permanently lost and finally a half-empty bottle of white rum, which he handed around.

“She and Reuben,” the mock turtleneck woman confided, tit for tat, “Had two cash bars at their wedding.”

“I get it’s a private residence,” the man continued, wide eyed, as he tilted the bottle drop by tiny drop into his cup. “But is the nudity like – mandatory?”

“Don’t be shy,” Jules suggested, happy in his eternal revolving door from Bitch to Hostess. “Really tip that bad boy in there.”

The man turned on Lux, aghast. “Mandatory nudity?”

“Jules,” she said. “Bathroom escort, please.”

The floors were fake grey wood and if they’d been in socks, they would have slipped and slid like newborn colts through a framed gauntlet of Ava and Reuben’s documented civilian life. On the right, a picture of Reuben T-posing against the horizon of the Grand Canyon. On the left, Ava’s Reiki Master III certificate from Sat Nam. A family reunion and matching T-shirts (Ava’s side of the family). A newlywed embrace at the foot of an anonymous waterfall in the Upper Peninsula. She’d seen all this before, well acquainted with the ground floor of Ava’s house, but now she wondered if Zach-Cody-Jake-Shawn, petrified below her feet, was feeling the weight of the roof on his chest like she felt.

Jules, on his own agenda, bypassed the bathroom door which was modestly shut and tugged her toward the staircase.

“Oh shush,” she warned preemptively. “We’re not allowed!” They’d never been upstairs before.

“What? They don’t have a bathroom up there?”

“She’ll know,” Lux said as they tiptoed upward. She imagined their footfalls pounding through the ceiling of the basement and Ava, coolly, directing her eyes toward the ceiling and right up Lux’s skirt.

“If you quit being so aware of her, she wouldn’t be aware of you,” Jules counseled.

Every door upstairs was closed, sanded and paper-smooth and plumbed correctly in their jambs. Her apartment had more in common with Ava’s basement. Melancholy prevented her from noticing Jules bypassing the obvious bathroom door where the shadow of a jailed cat paced and opening another. It was Ava’s and Rueben's bedroom.

“Uh-oh,” Jules said. “What an honest mistake.”

 “Stop, stop, stop,” she begged, dancing backward, but the arrested step of somebody entering the downstairs hallway had her shoving him inside. Jules grabbed her wrist before she could slam the door shut in panic and guided it closed himself, soundlessly.

“Somebody’s coming!” She hissed.

           “Nobody’s coming,” he said. “Not upstairs, at least.”

           Next door, the cat mewed piteously.

           The bedroom, to her surprise, held no accoutrements of Ava’s work at the club, not a stocking on the ground or a corset thrown over the back of a chair. The only suggestion of her taste for grandeur Lux recognized was the four-poster bed and the plum carpet. Even the makeup mirror standing up on the desk was just an electric plastic-framed Conair. The same kind Lux, at 14, had hidden underneath her bed.

Jules touched one of the bedposts. “You think she ever spread-eagles ol’ Rueben on these babies?”

Reuben worked in software. He had a crew cut, no distinguishing features, and upper veneers. When grouped together, he referred to all of Ava’s dommes as you kids. Alone, he called Lux Little Lady and Jules Hey, It’s My Man! Before thumping him with lethal force between the shoulder blades. Lux didn’t want to imagine Ava and Reuben fucking in the four-poster bed. But, on contemplation, she realized it was an impossible task.

She peeked into the master bathroom long enough to confirm Ava installed a whirlpool tub. Jules had already thrown open her closet and was sifting through hangers. He stood rumpled in his flip-flops and she was worried his hands would leave marks.      

“She’ll know someone was snooping.”

“Did she ever notice when you and Celeste moved everything in the dungeon three inches to the left on April Fools?”

Lux sat gingerly on the desk chair. The Conair makeup mirror was still lit, and she checked her hairline, her face, her cleavage (she’d been paranoid for two months that she was shrinking) in the mock turtleneck. In a silver stand-frame was a black-and-white of Ava alone, on her wedding day. She posed in black-and-white before a crumbling brick wall, body positioned forward but facing right, absurdly fresh, and nearly sweet-sixteen in a sweetheart neckline and ruffled cap sleeves.

 Jules loomed like a vulture over her shoulder and judged for himself. “Not what I would have picked for her,” He decided.

But Lux couldn’t look away from the picture. Ava, pre-Entrance, pre-homeowner, pre-stable-of-subs, pre-whirlpool tub. In the sterile silence of the bedroom, she had nothing to cloud her thoughts. “Ava always knew,” she announced. “Look at her expression. She knew all along.”

“Knew what?”

“That it was always going to work out. That she was always going to lock this down.”

“Lock what down?”

Lux tried to set the picture frame exactly where she’d left it but couldn’t quite recall. She pushed Jules away from her, annoyed, and tried a different a different route. “Do you think he really loves her?”            

“Reuben?”      

 “No, Zach – Jake – Shawn – whatshisname. In the basement.”

She felt Jules descend into sulky silence, that his magpie-plan of breaking and entering was not rendering hilarious fruit. She heard the bedsprings creak and two little claps as his sandals hit the floor.

“We make fun of her,” Lux insisted. “But she’s got the husband who loves her, and four full-timers cycling in and out of this beautiful house with a beautiful tree and green grass underneath and now this new kid. He wrote her a poem. She can inspire people to do things like that.”

Jules huffed.

Lux prodded: “Remember her interview in the Reader a few Prides ago? She said she owes it all to her Unapologetic Femininity. A successful woman constantly births this psychic potential in observing bodies.”

 “He wrote a shitty villanelle and climbed into a gimp bag in front of twenty-three perverts, so Ava’ll suffocate him with her titties for three years. That’s psychic potential?”

 “And what about Carmen, and Robin, and Deanna, and Evangeline?”

“What about Analise Petro? She split from the coven pretty fucking publicly.”

“Years ago. And she was immature. You and her were the same age.” At that time, Lux hadn’t made the decision if Jules, then a furious little boy-twink, would be nemesis or pal. She’d half-believed Jules poisoned Analise against Ava on purpose.

Jules, blissfully not thirty, ignored her. “Evey is my age,” he claimed.

“Carmen is thirty-six.” Lux, thirty-two, fretted, twisted her fingers. “Think of the responsibility. It’s all in her hands and she just…molds it.”

“Because of her essential femininity? You’re out of your mind.”

Downstairs, the sliding glass door to the backyard rattled. A few hoots of laughter drifted ghostly through the walls. Then the doors rattled twice, and silence seethed.

           “They change until they stay the same,” Jules said, too self-assured for someone sylphing on a strange bedspread with dirty feet. “And they’ll stay until they go away. Right about when Ava stops making them feel safe.”

“With –?”

“With her social nets and her two-story house and her dual income,” Jules said, sitting upright.  He was all the sudden blank-faced, voice poisonous, and she wondered automatically if his mother had been calling him late in the night. “With her sex gear she commissions from me. With the soothing atmosphere that Carmen interior designs, that Robin cleans, and the fucking homemade meals with the kitchen aide that only Deanna knows how to use. And you want me to think she’s this red-hot all-natural Madonna? You know better.”

Jules was rumpled beyond repair. He wore a tank top she’d gifted for his 27th birthday. It had ITALIAN FILLY printed on the front, and already the letters were starting to peel. He glared. Lux questioned the sincerity of his anger, if he only played it up because he noticed she was too sad to dig up anger herself, anger she felt all the time when she was perfectly alone, but she decided she was too pleased being noticed at all. Maybe in half an hour, she’d be happy enough to preen.

She got up and went to him on the bed and he sat up like a human being so she could clap his face in her hands. But he wasn’t done yet.

“She’s only a woman because she’s surrounded by one hundred sycophants who let her be one,” he sneered, and she felt the little muscles in his jaw. “Sisterhood is powerful!”

She slapped him on the mouth, but only a little bit. “What does that make me?” She asked, houseless, sycophant-less, suspicious her only sisters were biological.

“A woman who doesn’t need her yeast infections to remind her that she’s a woman.” He squirmed in her grip, for her enjoyment only, and his face reddened where it usually got red, close to the ears before it began to band his big nose. It was almost enough to make her forget she was only attracted to him when he was worn down to a nub of exhaustion. Usually, he was belly-up on the floor, with one arm thrown over his eyes, and one of his wrists in his carpal tunnel brace. Something about that brace lit her ass on fire. It made her want to pull down the blinds and eat him alive through his armpit. “Are we going to do something horrible to this bedspread or what?”

“Close your eyes.” He had an insane habit of kissing with his eyes open, and even she, the honorable first girl who’d ever fucked him, hadn’t trained him out of it. “Close your eyes,” he countered, and pulled the zipper on the back of her skirt so he could pull out her turtleneck out of her waist. It jammed. They struggled.

“Suck it in,” he ordered thoughtlessly, and the second she pulled in a deep breath she every inch of him sprang, alert, into a frenzy she couldn’t understand. He caught her around the waist and rolled them both off the bed and into the space between the wall and the gap where the bedclothes hung. She was just about to shriek at him when she heard bare feet pat-pat outside the bedroom door. Jules swept her under the bed (you could stack three bodies on top of each other, under there) and followed her himself just as the door opened.

Lux curled into a little ball. Jules elected to lay flat like a tapeworm.

A woman’s voice cooed. Lux waited. Doom squeezed her heart. But the voice wasn’t Ava’s.

“Sugar-pants, sugar-pants,” the voice caroled sweetly.

Then she saw the bare feet tip-tapping over the carpet, and she clocked the voice as Evangeline’s. She had freed the cat from the bathroom, and presumably held it in her arms, sweet-talking it. Lux dared to roll over to face Jules. He pinched his nose shut against a sneeze.

“I know baby, fluffy-baby,” Evey said. The desk chair scraped when she settled down into it. “You don’t like it in there. I know. I know. No huggle-wuggles for baby in there. You’re claustrophobic. So am I! Ugh!”

Evey gagged. She sobbed wretchedly for five whole minutes (Lux counted). The cat’s purr reached torrential volumes of pleasure. Near the end she reached for Jules’s hand, and they lay, foreheads together, too shy to look each other in the eye as Evey opened a drawer somewhere for tissues and was paralyzed by an attack of hiccups. Lux had to put all her muscle into not echoing her in sympathy.

Evey muttered to herself. “I’m claustrophobic, so I can’t let Her put me in the bag. If I can’t go in the bag, then I don’t get a poem.”

Click. Tap. Click. The drawer shutting. The lights of the makeup mirror turning off.

“I don’t get a poem,” Evey asserted. “I don’t get a poem.” And lower – “I’m not allowed to have a poem. I can’t have a poem. Or a tattoo.”

The cat gurgled.

Evey fled, down the hall, where a door slammed. Then, as if to fix the breach of discipline, the door opened again, and was closed so quietly Lux wasn’t sure it was closed at all.

She and Jules waited, then parted and unearthed themselves on either side of the bed. Jules zipped her skirt and together they patted down the bedspread. He had the faraway look in his eye he usually had when he was thinking about pattern-drafting and Lux replayed in her brain Evey’s Ugh! She wondered if one of her clients had ever gone home, away from her, looked in their bathroom mirror, stuck out their tongue and gone Ugh!

“Come on,” Jules said. The cat, abandoned again, eyed him from the desk chair. “Let’s go down and pay our respects to King Tut.”

And to the cat: “What the fuck are you looking at?”

If he’d acted smug at having his cynicism proven, she might have hit him for real. She’d hit him for real – which in their shared experience, meant purely out of anger – twice. The first time he’d deserved it. The second time he punished her, said she hit like a nelly fag and blocked her phone number for a month. Then he reemerged as swiftly as he’d removed himself, but pointedly, with an uncharacteristically physically proximate boyfriend who lasted exactly three months. She considered that his way of informing her she had been on probation.

“I’m lonely,” she said, because that was the problem.

“I’m literally right here, idiot.”

But when they reached the staircase the noise of the swelling party in the kitchen reached their ears. They decided to go down separately, for the sake of modesty, and Jules went first. He kissed her ear, conciliatory, and she watched the high yoke of his shoulders descend until she was alone again.

Who needed it, she thought, the fifteen-dollar candles and the floors constructed so they do not have to be waxed, the fleet of morose women and the sexless men? Years ago, she’d walked into Jules’s squalid, long-gone basement apartment with a frayed leather harness and been shocked at the sight of the missing Analise Petro sleeping on his futon. Split by her own precarious position in Ava’s club at the time, she’d whipped out her phone, as if to rat them both out then and there. Jules never even looked up from the dress form he was taping.

He asked: What do you give a cunt to convince her a community matter is a private matter?

He clipped off the tape with scissors longer than his hand.

A house!

Lux wanted a house. She wanted to jam her hooks into a hunk with big delts, and huge tits, and chain him up under the bed, somebody the opposite of Jules in every way, and she wanted to bake a successful quiche and she wanted, most of all, her and her sisters’ beloved childhood mutt Chessie, who had leapt off the family pontoon one 4th of July weekend on Indian Lake to his idiot death, to be revived and come trotting up the staircase and into her arms, panting with joy, not because he had been resurrected, but because he loved her best of all.

[captaindaddykru]

☆for emily☆

today it’s @keiraknighted‘s birthday. i wanted to finish this before today, but everything is flaming garbage, so a preview will have to do. no, i will no be giving out more details. happy birthday to my musical soulmate, the kinkiest queen of them all, em. my ol’ cobber. my favorite drongo. quite the spunk you are. you’re a classic. and you live in the worst possible timezone imaginable. here’s some best friends, pining, sexy, below <10k hopefully. also, sorry for the ugly temporary moodboard???? i was getting desperate at this point and am no grapic designer. i just needed something to distract from what you’re about to read. cheers!

So, by the time their holiday break rolls around, Clarke isn’t only sexually frustrated, she’s also kind of desperate. Which only intensifies when a few days before they’re all flying back to their hometown, Wells casually lets it drop he’s now in a relationship with a girl from his old chess club and things are ‘heating up fast’, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. She’s just more aware than ever she’s running out of time. 

Clarke doesn’t even know why it’s such a big deal to her. Maybe it’s her competitive streak coming into play, or the fact she really just wants to get the whole awkward virginity thing over with, maybe it’s the dark inexplicable pang in the middle of her chest whenever she sees the constant rotation of girls on Bellamy’s Instagram and Snapchat. She figures it’s a healthy amount of jealousy, courtesy of their very codependent ways, sharing everything with each other since childhood. They’re all apart for the first time in a decade, going their own ways, perhaps even growing apart. 

She doesn’t think about why Wells’ honest to God girlfriend doesn’t bother her as much when in reality that should make her feel even worse. A girlfriend could screw with their dynamic, a bunch of one night stands rationally speaking won’t. It could be that she knows Wells too well to know there’s still a very big chance he won’t go through with it, that he’ll let the girl down easy before Christmas even rolls around. 

But. Then she finds herself thinking of his jacket covering her shivering body, drenched from the rain, her left arm throbbing with pain, his hand wrapped around hers as he told her it was all going to be okay. She thinks of that time he left Gina’s birthday party early to come pick her up at a friend’s house after almost having a panic attack, the nights he spent sleeping in her bed after her father died, how he never once complained about getting her coffee from the drive through that was more than his hard limit of three dollars, and that one throw-away moment at the end of summer. That goodbye hug that lasted just a little too long, his arms tight around her waist, the intense look mirrored in both of their eyes as they pulled apart, the way she was afraid to say anything in case her voice gave out, before she got into her mom’s car and watched him and Wells disappear in the rearview mirror. 

It’s hard to explain, even to herself. It’s why she never thinks about it for too long. 

Which all brings her to tonight. A new year’s party at the house of someone who went to the same high school as them, that has all the charms of a bad hang-over in the making — terrible beer, music that’s mostly EDM and completely shit-faced people plastered across every surface.

She hasn’t seen Wells since his father’s Christmas party. Clarke finally met Luna there in person. She’s beautiful, easily talked to her about the non-profit she’s interning at for half an hour and had nothing but love in her eyes whenever she looked at Wells. He’s with her at her parents’ ski cabin right now, and from the way Bellamy was clapping his shoulder before he left early in the morning, Clarke figures he’s probably losing his v-card to her there which means that she’ll be the only one out of the three of them not to complete the pact. There’s no way she’s finding someone before midnight that she’d both feel comfortable with taking hers, and is even willing to do so in the first place. 

To make matters worse, Bellamy has totally ditched her to play beer pong with Bree, which she isn’t even sure isn’t code for hooking up in the coat closet. He knows she hates parties, especially when she doesn’t know anyone else there, and that she’s horrific at first impressions. She’s forced to make small-talk with Murphy, the loser who still hangs around their high school parking lot and she used to share one Culinary Arts class with before he got suspended. 

All of it combined has put her in a sour mood. And a drinking mood, but since all there is fucking shitty beer that might as well be toilet water she can’t even get drunk, so that just makes her even more unreasonably upset at nothing in particular. Maybe at the fact she’s so high strung and obsessed with controlling every little detail, that she didn’t just get it over with back on campus with some frat boy she never had to see again after, or that Wells and Bellamy managed to make it happen without even trying. It’s probably because she’s trying way too hard, people can probably tell.

It’s not fair that both of them beat her to it. Clarke wants to just be done with already, too. She wants to get it over with so she can get to the good, non first time stuff like them. She wants to be flirting with boys and girls at parties, or ask for someone’s number at a coffee shop without having to worry about having to explain it’s her first time doing any of it when they eventually invite her over to their room. She wants to be free and nonchalant and spontaneous, not constantly weighed down by the fact that she’s a virgin. It’s not like she’s asking for much. 

Half an hour to midnight, she pushes her way outside to the porch for some fresh air. It’s there where Bellamy finally bothers to leave Bree and her attention-seeking ways behind and come find her. 

“What’s up with you?” He asks, half a chuckle in his voice as he leans his forearms on the railing, mirroring her. 

Clarke grits her teeth together, then slowly exhales through her nose. She keeps her eyes on the tree swing in the distance, swaying softly because of the wind. “Nothing.”

He elbows her playfully, although his tone is serious. Of course he sees right through her. “Come on. Don’t give me that.”

She just grumbles something indecipherable, pushing back her hair from her face with one hand. She still doesn’t look at him, scared she might give anything more away. From inside, there’s the muffled beat of a hiphop song playing joined by the distanced tumult of college kids getting drunk and having fun. Except for the couple making out on the other end of the porch and one stoner sprawled over the grass smoking and staring at the sky, they’re alone. 

“I’m sorry about leaving you for Bree—” Bellamy starts, straightening back to his full height, and before she knows it, a flare of anger rises within her, burning white hot. She doesn’t recognize the feeling, but gets too lost in it to analyze it for very long.

Her head snaps to the side to glare at him, fingers tightening around the railing until her knuckles turn a pale white. “It’s not about Bree and her pathetic fuck-me eyes.”

“Okay,” he replies, sounding a bit too amused for her liking. He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. It makes his biceps bulge in a way that’s completely unfair when she’s been perpetually turned on since Halloween, and it sends a surge of want pulsing from her core. “Then what’s it about, princess?”

Has his voice always been so deep? She hesitates, not sure she even wants to share this with him. He might be her best friend, but it’s embarrassing on a level she can’t even try and start to describe. “I’m annoyed, okay?” She bites, heated, which immediately makes her feel guilty. It’s not his fault nobody wants her. “I expected that I’d at least beat Wells to it. And since it’s all I can think about all the time now, I’m constantly horny.” A blush forms on her cheeks, down her neck and all over her collarbone, but she refuses to let that or the way his eyes widen slightly stop her. It’s only awkward if she lets it be. “I just feel so stupid. I mean, I had five months to get it over with like both of you, and here we are. What the hell is wrong with me?”

A tense silence wraps around them for a moment, Clarke’s heart pounding loudly in her chest as panic claws up her throat. She’s such a fucking idiot. She shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place. She’s sure neither of them would’ve actually held it against her if she didn’t lose her virginity before new year’s, they’re better than that. She knows they are. Clarke is just so — frustrated.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and she finds herself entranced with the movement. “I didn’t know you were so upset about it,” he starts, tentatively. Her blue eyes snap up to meet his, a smirk breaking across his face. He’s teasing her, the asshole, when he says, “I mean, if you’re that desperate, I’ll do it.”

Her eyes narrow, finally pushing off the railing. A gust of wind greets her body, bristling her hair and making tiny goosebumps appear over her arms. She’s seconds away from angry tears, she can tell. “Don’t make it sound like it’s such a fucking chore.”

Bellamy just kind of stares at her dumbly, his whole body grown tense, making her even more furious. Did he lose his tongue all of a sudden? He’s never had a problem sharing his opinions on her, no matter how negative, before. “What?” She snaps, roughly brushing  a strand of hair behind her ear before tucking her hands back underneath her opposite armpits.  

“It wouldn’t be a chore, Clarke,” he corrects her, his eyes still slightly widened as if alarmed by the sound of himself speaking. He swallows visibly, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down in the low glow of the Christmas lights draped across the ceiling of the porch. Bellamy lifts one of his shoulders, casual, even if the movement is stiffer than it usually would be. “I just — I didn’t realize I was an option.”

Her heart trips over itself as silence stretches between them for a moment. She wants to ask him a million questions, but the best thing she can come up with is, “So you were serious?” Clarke raises her eyebrows, trying to figure out if he was just being nice, taking pity on her or if it was something much more dangerous than that. “You’ll do it?”

His jaw clenches briefly, his nostrils flaring. Another second, and he asks, rough, “Do you want me to do it?”

She considers it. This is Bellamy, her best friend. He can always make her laugh, and there’s no one else she feels as much at ease with, and he’s definitely attractive, even she has noticed as much. She likes his stubborn curls, his smile when someone catches him off guard, the sharp line of his jaw. And at the very least he would know what he’s doing. She trusts him. “Yes.”

Now that she’s aware it’s a possibility, she refuses to want anything else. It’d be kind of perfect, actually.

He clears his throat, blinking hard as he tears his eyes off her for a second, scrubbing his face with one of his hands. It’s very big, and Clarke finds herself wondering for the first time if it means the rest of him is big as well. Bellamy sniffs when his dark eyes land back on her. “Have you been drinking?”

“Just half a beer,” she answers, maybe a bit too eager, her hands dropping at her sides after smoothing down the bottom of her glittery top. She doesn’t want to give him enough time to talk himself out of it. “And I think someone diluted it with water so it barely counts.”

He nods, once, then nudges his head to the side. “Want to get out of here?”

Taking one more look around the porch, Clarke worries her bottom lip pensively, shooting him an apologetic look. “My parents are having friends over, so my house is definitely not an option.” 

Besides, she doesn’t want to risk them finding out and making it weird. Especially not if the consequence is going to be an open door policy whenever he or Wells are over. Nothing has to change after tonight.

“Thelonious is out,” he offers, then flinches when he seems to remember something else. “But Octavia might show up with her friends.”

Clarke nods, giving him another long searching look before she makes up her mind. It’ll be fine. This is Bellamy. She’s a pro at compartmentalizing and he’s sleeping with a different girl like every other night. It can just be sex. “Upstairs then?”