#every single old lady has a collection like that because they grew up in fucking HELL where they had to find joy in the smallest things

[swagging-back-to]

i hate tiktok because now you cant even have a collection or like a specific thing or else youre hardcore autistic.

[redrisingsun]

Swedish Holidays for all your Young Royals needs

Due to popular demand (by like five people) here’s a brief description of all the major Swedish holidays and how they’re celebrated because I can’t stand here and pretend as if we really celebrate Christmas the 25th. We have more holidays, I've only written about the ones we celebrate in my family. I come from a working class family and live in Southern Sweden, however I do have family in Stockholm. I'm not religious in any way and as far as I know, most families don't celebrate these holidays because they're religious, but because it's tradition.

yall better appreciate this, it took me literal hours

January

1: Dubbed as one of the collective pizza days in my household. It's the day after New Year, and most people either order in or eat leftovers.

Week 2 or 3: Most people return to their jobs, schools and other daily activities.

February/March

Fettisdagen ("Fat Tuesday"): celebrated 47 days before Easter. The actual date varies, all from early February to early March. It's an old Christian tradition where you'd eat fatty foods before the "before Easter"-fast and is supposedly a thing in other Christian countries as well. These days, most people celebrate by eating semlor with their family, and most don't fast before Easter.

The semla is a sweet bun with whipped cream and almond paste.

Våffeldagen (Waffle Day, 25th of March): I think this day stems from a Christian tradition, but these days the day is mostly to get together with family and eat waffles.

April

Påsk (Easter): Again, the date varies, but Easter is usually in April. Easter stems from Christianity and is celebrated to remember Jesus' death and resurrection. Easter spans over a week, but I personally only celebrate one of those days.

Påskafton (direct translation: Easter Eve, English translation: Holy Saturday) is the Saturday of the Easter week. In my family, the children get to look for Easter eggs (often filled with candy).

Some children also dress up as Påskkärringar (Easter crones) and I think this tradition has to do with the Witch Trials in Sweden, but I'm not sure. Chances are you won't need to know anything about this for your Young Royal fics, because mostly girls dress up.

Sometimes, we decorate eggs.

Later, we sit down to eat together and spend time with our families. Common things to eat for Easter is potatoes, eggs, herring and meatballs.

Valborgsmässoafton (Walpurgis Night, 30th): We burn a big bonfire in the evening to celebrate that spring is here. I live in a fairly small town, so mostly everyone gathers at one spot and burns the fire together. When the bonfire is burned, most people go home and that's it. It's also seen as a reason to have a party (mostly for teenagers and young adults, I think) and get drunk as fuck.

May/June

Sveriges Nationaldagen (Sweden's National Day, 6th of June): Most people are home from school and work. We hoist the Swedish flag. Idk. However, the Royal Family celebrates by getting dressed up in Swedish costumes. This year, the King held a speech and the family went to Skansen (which is an amusement park/zoo. You can read more about it here). There's music and the military does their weird little thing. You can watch the National Day Celebration on Skansen from 2014 here.

Midsommarafton (Midsummer): date varies, but is celebrated a Friday in late June. I'm sure there's a Christian explanation for this one, but I don't personally know it.

Midsommar (midsummer) means middle of the summer.

Again, this is a day to eat and spend time with your family (or drink, depending on who you are). We eat pretty much the same things for Midsummer as we do for Easter.

For Midsummer we also dance around a Midsommarstång (direct translation: Midsummer Pole, English translation: Maypole) and make flower crowns.

How Midsummer is celebrated depends a lot on your age (most teenagers and young adults again see this as a reason to party), where you're from and a million other things.

My personal favorite Midsummer tradition is probably more common in the country than in the city, for example. You're supposed to pick seven different flowers without saying a word. Then, you sleep with the flowers under your pillow. Supposedly, you'll dream of your future husband (or wife! But I think it's more common that women and girls do this). This tradition also varies. Some people say you need nine flowers and some people say you have to climb over fencing for it to count.

Some teenagers or young adults spend time with their friends to party, instead!

You can watch part of a Midsummer celebration at Skansen here.

The Royal Family usually celebrate Midsummer privately, but I think there's usually new pictures of the entire family around this time.

Day after Midsummer: Collective Pizza Day 2. Everyone either eats takeout or leftovers because no one can be bothered to make anything and like half of the population has the worst hangover they've had since New Year.

Summer Holiday Note: most people in Sweden have four weeks of paid leave each summer.

July/August

Kräftpremiär (Crayfish party) - date varies, normally early August. Basically people get together to eat crayfish and drink. You can usually get paper plates and plastic cups and whatever with ugly crayfish motives (which is fun), but I've never done this.

October

Halloween (30th): Halloween is nowhere near as big in Sweden as it is in the States. We just buy some lösgodis ("loose candy", where you can throw whatever kind of candy you want in a bag. See pictures). Trick or treat is so unusual in the town I grew up I've only ever had one kid ask for candy and when I celebrated Halloween with my grandparents (in a city not far from Stockholm), it was the same. I usually buy some candy and watch a horror movie, but that's about it.

However, Halloween is (again) a reason for teenagers and young adults to drink and party.

November

Alla Helgons Dag (All Saints' Day): Date varies, usually early November. It's a day to remember the dead and we usually light a candle at the grave yard.

December

Första Advent (First Advent): Date varies. Sunday four weeks from Christmas Eve. We mostly just light a candle, honestly. Then, each Sunday for the next four weeks, we light a candle. Here's actually the Crown Princess wishing Happy First Advent with her family! Unfortunately without English subtitles, but here's the translation: "Today is the First Advent. Advent means arrival and hope, something that feels extra important this year. (her husband lights the candle) We want to wish everyone a happy first advent!"

Andra Advent (Second Advent): date varies. We light the second candle.

Tredje Advent (Third Advent): date varies. We light the third candle.

Fjärde Advent (Fourth Advent): date varies. We light the fourth candle. In my family we usually decorate the tree this Sunday.

Julafton (Christmas Eve): Celebrated the 24th. YES, THE 24TH. Christmas Eve obviously varies from family to family, but there's a few things most people have in common. Usually, we get one gift in our sock (which hangs on our bedroom doors in my home, because we don't have a mantle) when we wake up. As kids me and my brother almost always got a movie or something to keep us busy until it was time to leave for our grandparents house.

For lunch we eat the Christmas dinner. It's the same damned food as our other holidays. Herring, meatballs, potatoes, sausages etc, but now, we also have julskinka (Christmas ham). Some people eat ham even for Easter, but we only really eat it for Christmas in my family. Obviously the food varies a little from season to season, but as a picky eater I always just eat potatoes, meatballs and ham.

At 3, Kalle Anka (Donald Duck) is on. Yeah, we watch the same damned stuff every year. It's tradition, alright? Anyway, Donald Duck lasts for an hour or so, and first you get to see Santa work in his workshop, then Disney characters wish you a Merry Christmas with scenes from their movies (original, I know). There's Lady and the Tramp, Donald Duck (obviously) and a million other things. Then there's also one or two trailers for movies Disney will release the coming year. I really couldn't be bothered to find everything on YouTube for you to watch, sorry!

After Donald Duck, we open the Christmas gifts in my family. Normally we just rip out gifts open lmao.

After opening the gifts, we usually eat a second time. This time it's time for porridge. Tomtegröt (Santa porridge) is sweet and often served with cinnamon. Usually, everyone is so stuffed at this point that you only eat because you "have" to eat porridge for Christmas (again, at least in my family).

The last thing we do in my family, is to get a puzzle out. My grandpa almost always gets a new puzzle for Christmas, so we'll put that on the dining table and work on it together until it's getting too late for us to stay.

The Royal Family usually release new pictures of the family for Christmas and wish everyone a Merry Christmas.

Day after Christmas: Not a collective pizza day! There's usually too much Christmas food left to be able to order pizza. Usually, we have Christmas food to eat for four-ish days after Christmas, and by then you're getting really tired of it.

Sometimes we watch something on television, but for the most part we just sit around and spend time together. I think the Crown Princess read something from the Bible this year? I'm not actually sure if the Royal Family go to the Christmas Service, but I don't think so.

Nyårsafton (New Year's Eve): last day of the year. We shoot fireworks, eat food and dessert and spend time with family. This day we normally eat something "fancy" or something you we don't usually eat.

At twelve, we go out to light some fireworks (or just watch fireworks). When that dies down, it's time for the cheese platter. My dad wants it, no one else ever eats from it, we still do it every single year because "it's not New Year's without it". When we've had the cheese platter, everyone go to sleep and that's that.

People obviously celebrate this differently, as well. It's not uncommon to go see your friends or have guests over, and some people party rather than have fancy dinner with their parents. I personally prefer spending time with my parents, because that's what New Year's is for me.

Some people give resolutions, but I think it's more common in the States.

Christmas Holiday Note: It's common for people to not work between Christmas and New Year's Eve where I'm from.

Some things you might want to know about the Swedish Royal Family and Sweden overall:

The Royal Family in Young Royals is not the real Royal Family (obviously).

The Royal Family usually spends time on Öland during the summers.

Chances are Wilhelm and his family live at Drottningholm Slott (Drottningholm Palace) and not Stockholm Slott (Stockholm Palace). Drottningholm is used as a home for the current King and Queen and is located west of Stockholm. However, the scenes where Wilhelm is home is shot at a palace called Stora Sundby Slott. I doubt Wilhelm and his family would live here if they were the actual Royal Family since it's used as a place for people to gather when they want to hunt for sport. However, if they truly live at Stora Sundby, it takes almost two hours to drive from Stockholm to the castle.

Bjärstad is AT LEAST two hours away from Stockholm.

Bjärstad to Stora Sundby Castle takes approximately an hour and a half by car, and between nine and twelve hours by bus. Which means these two boys can't just take a twenty minute bus to see each other.

Bjärstad to Drottningholm takes a little over two hours by car and four-ish hours by bus.

Bjärstad to Stockholm Slott takes over two hours by car and three and a half hours by bus.

Hillerska is shot at Kaggeholms Slott (Kaggeholm Palace), and is a hotel.

The age of consent in Sweden is 15, HOWEVER it's illegal to have sex with someone four or more years younger than you if you're not both over the age of 18. Let me illustrate: -Person A is 15 and Person B is 15. It's legal because both are 15. -Person A is 15 and Person B is 20. It's illegal, because there's a five year old gap between them. -Person A is 15 and Person B is 18. It's legal (but probably frowned upon), because they're both 15 or older and there's not a four year gap between them. -Person A is 18 and Person B is 30. It's legal, because both are 18 or older. Idk if this makes sense or if this is what it looks like anymore, but this is what it was like when I still went to school. Obviously people aren't going to run around and call you names if you happen to date someone four years younger than you (I know a girl who met a guy when she was 14 and he was over 20), but please, be mindful of this. Our age of consent doesn't give you a right to be weird and nasty to teenagers (yes, I'm talking about Edvin).

Also, the Royal Family have their own website, which you can find here. As far as I can see, there's more information on the Swedish page, but there's plenty translated to English. You can also read of the Swedish Royal Family and its history on the palaces's website, here.

All pictures have been taken straight from Google. I haven't used any sources, because this is shit I do every single year with my family. Feel free to correct me or add things you do, but keep it respectful, please!

Friendly reminder that I've simplified some parts of this to make sense, specifically the dates of the Advent celebrations.

If there's anything you don't understand or want more information on, you're welcome to contact me! I take pretty long to reply, but I'll definitely try to get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you!

[emelywrites]

Could you make a Diego Hargreeves x reader her power is elemental? Where she is part of the Sparrow Academy and she is the caretaker of the greenhouse there. When she meets Diego she falls for him and him for her, but he is still kinda in love with Lila.

I really liked writing that, my plants are my biggest love right now. And can I just say I got genuinely pissed when I wrote that Diego hurt the waterlily? She’s my favorite child right now :)

Warnings: Language, mentions of minor injury, mentions of past child neglect (they’re grown ups now)

The plant lady

For some reason Reginald let the Umbrella Academy stick around the Sparrow Academy as long as they wouldn’t disrupt training. They didn’t get their old rooms but others that were all about the size of Vanya’s childhood bedroom. Grace wasn’t here so Diego already hated this place. Additionally to not having his mom around anymore at all he had also just lost Lila and didn’t know where in the timeline she was hiding. So, one day he just got tired of lying around in his bedroom and started exploring this new place. The general style of the place was different but every room was where it used to be. He arrived in the courtyard. Ben’s statue was gone, obviously, he wasn’t dead in this timeline.

Another thing that was new, right in the middle of the courtyard, was a circular greenhouse that seemed like there wouldn’t even be space for people to go inside with how packed full of plants it looked from the outside. He entered anyway and realized that he was right. There was a beautiful chaos of plants but it looked someone had made themselves almost a living space inside. There was an armchair and a desk with a little stool in the corner and Diego decided to slump down in the armchair. He took in his environment. There were butterflies, spiders and flies hanging around and water spraying from the sprinkler system above. For the first time in a long while Diego felt at peace. The sound of the plants rubbing against one another and the water flowing and spraying, the smell of soil, plants and just freshness, and the high content of oxygen in the air thanks to the plants around made him sink further into his chair as he started to play with a knife. He felt so calm he accidentally hit one of the plants.

„Ow, what the fuck?“, someone said from behind a large Monstera plant, „Who’s here and what the hell did you do to my waterlily mother plant?“

She came around from behind the plant and spotted him quickly. Diego was starstruck. In front of him was a beautiful woman his age (obviously), wearing the Sparrow Academy uniform, minus the tie and blazer but with long pants instead of a skirt so technically it was just a white blouse and dark blue pants with some red detail, and her (y/h/c) hair tied up haphazardly. She had her hand stretched to her side, a water ball floating over it.

„Sorry“, he mumbled, „Wait, were you gonna attack me with a water ball?“

„No, I’m using it to care for the plants, it’s easier than carrying around a big watering can or a bucket or whatever“, she dropped her hand, the water falling into a puddle next to her, „Besides, I’m not going to attack anyone in here, my plants have already suffered enough thanks to you.“

„It’s just a little cut, it’ll be fine“, he rubbed his neck, „And I said I was sorry.“

„My plants have been cared for by me since I was a little girl, dad had this built when I was four. That waterlily was the first plant that has ever entered this greenhouse“, she narrowed her eyes at him, „I’m emotionally connected to my plants, I feel what they feel.“

Diego widened his eyes at her when she said that and only then realized that she did have a little scratch on her ear.

„That’s not from the cut, I don’t actually get their wounds, I just feel their pain and needs. This one’s from our recent mission, bullet grazed me and I had the shooter sink into the floor for it“, she rubbed her ear when she noticed him staring, „I’m (Y/N), number two, I control the four elements.“

She waved her hand and he felt himself being pulled up from his seating position and hurled through the air until he was standing in front of her.

„Diego, I’m- wait, you’re number two? I’m number two“, he crunched his face into a look of confusion.

„Sorry, this is my timeline, so I’m number two, guess you’re number nine now. We’re seven and you’ll be added on top“, she created a new water ball and went back to tending to her plants, „So, what do you do?“

„I control things when they fly. Normally I throw knives, always hit the target“, he grew a bit talking about his powers, he was rather proud of them.

„Oh, so you wanted to hurt my waterlily?“, she threw the water ball at him.

„Hey! I lost control, I was just… distracted“, he admitted fondling with his wet shirt.

„Distracted?“, he nodded, „By my plants?“, he nodded again, she smiled, „Yeah, they’re great.“

„Can I stick around? My bedroom doesn’t even have a window. I’ve never felt as good as I do here for some reason.“ He trusted her somehow, she just had this thing to her that made him like her. Maybe it was just that she was the creator of this safe haven.

„I understand. I do, too. And I have a really nice bedroom“, she smiled, „Maybe you can help out.“

„I could try to improve the sprinkler system, it’s not hitting everything, you see?“, he pointed toward the back section where no water was sprinkling at all.

„There is no sprinkler system, I’m doing that. And those plants don’t need it right now. I was talking more like inventory and making sure I don’t starve. I forget time in here.“ She looked at her wristwatch, he did the same.

„So do I, apparently.“

They spent the rest of the day in the greenhouse together. Diego came back every single day and she was always there. She explained the plants to him. What they were, what they needed, where she got them. She showed him all the little details about them and explained them. Things Diego wouldn’t have given a flying shit about if anyone else had told him. But this woman, showing him her passion and looking so beautiful and content doing so, had intrigued him. She could be explaining law structures to him and he’d hang onto every word she said.

(Y/N) was so happy to have someone in her greenhouse who genuinely wanted to know things about her plants. Whenever she tried to tell her siblings about her plants they’d dismiss her ramblings and instead talk about some great thing that had happened in their training. In the thirty years of her existence it seemed like the only constant was her plants. (Y/N) rarely built relationships with people, maybe that was due to the fact that all the people she ever met and saw were those dismissive siblings and the distant father she lived under the same roof with. Diego made her feel noticed and important and she wanted to savor that feeling so whenever the other number two entered her green house, a warmth and excitement filled her.

After about a month of seeing each other in the greenhouse every day, Diego having taken to getting them snacks whenever they had wordlessly agreed it was time for food and writing down everything she told him to write down into her notebook on her desk, they had gotten very much used to one another. The notebook was all over the place but Diego had come to understand even her little scribbles. It had become so natural to hang out like that everyday that one day when he handed her half of a sandwich while she was inspecting a browning Philodendron leaf she mumbled „Thanks, babe“ with her mouth full.

They both paused at that and stared at each other. „I- I’m sorry, it just slipped out. I- It’s not like we’re dating or anything, we’re just friends, right?“

„Yeah, we’re good, I- I have a girlfriend. I mean- sort of. We just slept with each other and she introduced me to her mom and then I let her escape with a briefcase but I don’t think we- Is there like a time limit on when you’re not together anymore after parting ways? Like- It was just- just a few days.“

„Diego, it’s- it’s fine. I don’t mean to intrude on anything. If you say you have a girlfriend, I’ll accept that. And if you don’t that’s- that’s fine, too, whatever.“

They sat in awkward silence for a bit and for the first time ever she was relieved to see one of her siblings rushing into her greenhouse.

„(Y/N), get the fuck ready, we gotta go, Dad says we need all forces. So you, too, Raincoat Academy“, he said, rushing back out.

„It’s Umbrella Academy, actually“, Diego murmured but started walking out.

„I know. And he can’t hear you anymore, get dressed“, she rushed past him.

„Feels good to be getting back out“, he smiled.

He collected his knives that he always left in his bedroom now when he came to the greenhouse because (Y/N) had asked him to and he accepted that. Because he did like her quite a lot.

[veda-bradley]

[ VEDA BRADLEY. 30. FEMALE. SHE/HER.] is here! She has lived in Silver Lake for [ 5 YEARS ] and is originally from [ PETALUMA, CA ]. She is currently working as a [ FREELANCE CERAMICIST ] and in her downtime loves [ THRIFTING ] and [ SURFING ]. She looks a lot like [ DAKOTA JOHNSON ] and lives in [ OASIS APARTMENTS ]

and baby dumbass makes three. read on for more info & like for plots ~

STATS.

FULL NAME: Veda Jane Bradley NICKNAMES: None, except her dad calls her Dot. MBTI: ISTP STAR SIGN: Capricorn BIRTHDAY: January 5th, 1991

FUN FACTS. ( death mention tw )*

Born and raised in Petaluma, California 

*Was raised by a single father after her mother passed when she was two. Veda doesn’t remember her mother, but has been gifted hundreds of fond memories by her father, her older brother Max, and her grandparents -- all of whom she grew up with.

Veda’s family has owned Bradley’s Berry Farm in Petaluma, CA going back generations. Her father still works there, alongside her brother, and her new step-mother. They grow strawberries. 

Veda’s father remarried when she was sixteen years old, bringing both a step-mother and two older step-siblings into her life. She’s not close to any of them, having left home two years after her father married. 

Went to UC Berkley straight out of high school, graduated with a degree in business.

big old chapstick lesbian tbh

Most likely already tired of your bullshit

Her brother knows about her sexuality, the rest of her family does not. Veda is a very private person to begin with, but she doesn’t see her older, conservative family coming around to her sexuality any time soon. Veda isn’t one to draw attention to herself, and she certainly doesn’t want to rock the boat, especially since she’s already making so many choices her family doesn’t agree with. 

This was a huge part of the reason why Veda moved away from home. Made living the life she wanted a hell of a lot easier. 

Followed a girl to Silver Lake after she graduated school. It did not end well. A two year relationship fell apart in about two minutes when Veda found her ex face deep in a pair of thighs. Whoops. 

Is always on the run, always has somewhere to be, is always spending time with someone. Veda schedules her life down to the minute, because she simply cannot sit still and listen to her own thoughts.

Started throwing pottery as a hobby when she was in her teen years, but kept it just as that, a hobby, until about 3 years ago, when she started selling enough to make the materials worth it. 

Veda does custom pieces, but her top sellers are usually sets of dishes / tea pots / other household objects. It’s recently started making her a decent amount of money. 

Just quit her day job -- peace out, Funkytown Thrift. 

Loves a long island iced tea and a good trashy magazine

Grew up an outdoors kid, and living in the city doesn’t stop Veda from indulging in that. Most weekends she’s out doing hikes, surfing, gardening doing basically anything outside, that’ll get her heart rate up. 

She’s a very active lady -- likes kickboxing, running, lifting, rowing. She has the upper body / core strength of a freakin beast because it helps her lug around giant bags of clay (which she does on the daily) 

Has been living in the Oasis for 3 years and she fucking hates it, will complain about her water pressure at every chance she gets. 

Is literally a vault. if you have a secret, Ms. Veda will keep it. 

FULL BIO COMING SOON.

PINTEREST. WANTED CONNECTIONS (cont’d).

Platonic Soulmate (0/1); – The love between these two runs real deep. I’d take a bullet for you deep. This could be a connection new or old. Bad Influence (0/1); – These two are friends who constantly encourage each other to do bad things Clients (0/?); – anyone who either hires Veda for a piece, or purchases pre-made items, etc.  Friends with Feelings (0/1); – Either one or both have some kind of romantic feelings that often leaves the pair confused, and in awkward situations. Will they, won’t they? Who’s to say. Exes (0/?); – whether it lasted a week or a year, Veda has been in SL long enough to collect a few exes. More to be discussed! The Ex (0/1); -- as stated above, Veda had an ex who cheated on her. They were in a long term relationship & living together at the time. More to be discussed! FWB (0/?); --  U up? Flings (0/?); -- While this never reached relationship status, the two flirted heavily, perhaps hooked up a few times, went on a few dates, etc. Could have fizzled out for any reason! Roommate (0/1); –  Veda lives in a two bedroom in the oasis. Currently the second bedroom is a studio, but if anyone wants a roomie I’m happy to switch this up!  Neighbours (2/?); – Are you tired of Fleetwood Mac shaking your walls? Veda sure isn’t. That vibe is 24/7. Good luck with that. Brother (0/1); -- Max Bradley. 40s? More to be discussed.  Step-Brother (0/1); Name UTP. More to be discussed.  Step-Sister (0/1); Name UTP. More to be discussed. 

[nuricurry]

Saint Seiya | Hyoga/Ikki; “don’t paint me black when i used to be golden” PG-13

He’s got a flat in Omsk that uses when he needs to run away. It’s small, above a little corner shop, selling liquor and cigarettes and stale chips. It’s where he buys his rolling papers, because the babushka that owns it never asks about his age. She just likes when he’s around, because he looks like her son who went off to die in the war, and he lifts heavy boxes for her and sweeps the stairs without her asking. The room smelled old, but that was mostly because of the books that filled it, crammed into the huge bulky bookcases that Hyoga managed to squeeze in until the shelves sagged and it looked as if they might tip over. Most of the books he’d never read; they were in languages he didn’t speak, Croatian and German and Gaelic and Italian, books about science and the stars and plants and trees, books that talked about wars he had never heard of and places most of the world long-since forgot existed. They were books he had run his fingers over hundreds of times in his life, books that he could remember seeing as a child, all neatly ordered and carefully arranged. In his house, they were fit where they could, shoved on top of each other and stacked on tables and chairs, none of them given the proper place they should. He brought Shun there once, when they were caught between figuring themselves out and needing company. He remembered what he looked like in that small room with it’s peeling blue floral wallpaper and water stained ceiling. His eyes had traveled around, taking it all in-- Hyoga’s unmade bed, his chipped china, the dusty lace curtains that hung in the window-- and he had smiled at him and said it was lovely. What was funny was that he knew he meant it; where Hyoga saw chaos and mess, Shun saw a home, filled with things that Hyoga wanted to hold on to, things that clearly meant something, if he bought a whole apartment to put them in, rather than let them be thrown away. They shared the bed at night, him and Shun, because there was only one and they were beyond a point of awkwardness or shame in being close to one another. They would lie on the mattress on their sides, face to face, and Shun would listen to him talk. He would tell him about how his mother gave birth to him in Moscow, but she grew up here in Omsk and he had come here hoping to find some family of his, only to learn they had all moved away or died. The house she lived in was gone, turned into a shopping center, and the only record to be found was of her was her name at the local church and the day of her baptism. They talked about the books, all collected from the cabin he lived in with Camus out in the wilderness for those eight years. He couldn’t read them all, and honestly, many of them he didn’t want to, because he was never as analytical as Camus was. He didn’t really need to know how the world worked and why it did. He just lived in the moment, he just had to make it through each day, and that was enough for him. Yet, even knowing so many of them would never be opened again, he couldn’t bear to throw any of them away. Camus had touched them at some point, his eyes had scanned them over, which meant Hyoga couldn’t get rid of a single one of them, in memory of him. That was what the apartment really was for, when it came down to it. Storing his memories, trying to hold onto them and make them last by locking them away, as if that would keep them fresh, keep them safe. Shun, as he knew he would be, was sympathetic. He didn’t discourage his hoarding, didn’t criticize or encourage him to put those sorts of things aside. He just held his hand when Hyoga spoke about how he liked when the old lady downstairs called him ‘Pasha’ because it was like having a grandmother for the first time, he offered to get him a drink when Hyoga would get a headache from crying, he wouldn’t say anything about the creaking floorboards and lumpy mattress and leaking pipes and paper-thin walls of Hyoga’s glorified memory box. He just told him it felt like home, and offered to bring him new sheets and maybe a nice rug and a plant to liven up the space. Shun said those things because Hyoga didn’t tell him the whole truth. Shun didn’t know about the box under the bed, the box of Camus’ clothes that he kept tucked away under lock and key. He didn’t tell him about keeping his coat, his shirts, his gloves, because they were things that Camus had worn and touched, they still held traces of his distinctive scent. He didn’t tell him that the chipped dishes they used at dinner used to be his mother’s rescued from the remains of her sunken ship years ago and hoarded in his room where no one could find them. He didn’t mention the book that had dog-eared pages about the Kraken and sirens and Leviathan, creased and folded over by what must have been a young Isaak’s hand. He didn’t tell him about how he kept those things because he believed that they might have even traces of those he lost, a bit of their smell, a strand of their hair, even fingerprints would have been enough, because it was physical proof that they had been alive, that they existed and that once, Hyoga had been able to love someone without being afraid of that love destroying them. It wasn’t like that anymore. Hyoga had learned his lesson, had learned it in the hardest way possible. The only person who knew about Camus’ clothes and his mother’s china and Isaak’s book was Ikki. He had found the box by accident, one time when he came to the flat broken and bleeding, uncovering it when he was left alone after Hyoga went downstairs to ask for a needle and thread to sew up the wound. Ikki claimed he had been trying to find bandages when he pulled out the box. He asked about it, because it was strange for Hyoga to have a box of clothes he never wore that would never fit him, delicate painted tea cups, and a tattered book of fairytales hidden away in a box under his bed. He didn’t know why he told him-- it was not as if Ikki was ever sensitive about those things, not like Shun was-- but maybe it was because he wasn’t Shun or Seiya that he told him. Ikki was not someone who would look at him with pity when he talked about imagining that the books paper had absorbed some of Isaak’s spit from licking his fingers to turn the page, or wanting to find even traces of his mother’s fingerprints on the teapot, or about wearing Camus’ coat because it was the closest he would ever get to being held in his arms again, now that the man himself was gone. Ikki just took in all that information, he just listened, his face impassive, his eyes unreadable, before he closed the chest, and put it back under the bed. The next time Ikki was in the flat was when Hyoga brought him there because they needed to get away from everything and everyone, because he had finally talked about the fire that burned under his skin every time he was within any proximity to Ikki and Ikki echoed those words back. He hadn’t been thinking about the chest, the memories, the mementos; he was thinking about finally trying to work this fever out, but before he could, Ikki asked to see the box, and Hyoga dragged it out for him, though he didn’t understand why. Ikki pulled something out of the inner pocket of his jacket, and placed it in the box, right on top of Hyoga’s things. It was a handkerchief, and when he gently pulled up the corner of it, he saw a dried, pressed flower tucked inside. Ikki put his past inside of Hyoga’s memory box, and he let him, because he knew how much it hurt to carry around the love he knew killed someone. Maybe he thought it would bring them closer. Maybe he just wanted Ikki to find some illusion of comfort and peace like he had, forcing himself to think that compartmentalizing something meant it no longer affected him, when in fact the opposite was true. Maybe he just liked knowing that part of Ikki would always be within his reach, even if that was a part of him he had cut out, like one cuts out a tumor and puts it in a jar to sit on a shelf, a reminder of how terrible life can go, and how short it all is, subjected to the whims and forces of fate. Ikki comes to his flat in Omsk more than anyone else, and it becomes a place that Hyoga defines as ‘for them’. Parts of Ikki’s life navigate their way there, from socks and spare shoes to keys to his bike, and a case of his favorite beer always available in the fridge. They stay there, in the winter, and sometimes in the summer, when they’re allowed to get away and no one is asking anything of them, when they’ve paid their dues and given all there is to give. They eat overpriced takeout at the rickety table, they fuck on Hyoga’s lumpy bed, they sleep side by side together, and when he wakes up in the morning, sometimes Ikki’s still there. They brush their teeth in the same sink and Ikki’s leather jacket hangs on a hook next to the doorway, but lingers there more often than it’s missing, and it feels fragile, like a snowflake made from spun glass, but he holds onto it, as one of the few things he has that he desperately, so badly, doesn’t want to break. But wanting things doesn’t mean they happen. Trying to be better, trying to forget that he has destroyed every person he’s ever loved, does not stop it from happening again. 

They fight. They argue. Hyoga asks him for things that Ikki won’t give him-- things he says he can’t. Ikki snaps at him. He reaches his breaking point louder than Hyoga does. “Just sit here and rot in your fucking mausoleum, Hyoga,” he tells him before he leaves, and Hyoga knows he won’t come back. So he picks up his jacket, his fingers slipping easily over the familiar, creamy texture of the leather. He holds it, he smells it, he tries to find any traces of Ikki’s heat, of his hair or his skin, undeniable proof that this was his, that he lived and breathed in this jacket, and that he existed in a world that Hyoga lived in too, inside this flat. Then, he folds it, putting new creases in the jacket before he puts it in his box, tucking it under his bed with all the other things that belong to the people he destroyed simply by loving them. 

[motleycrueimagine]

This Ain’t a Love Song - Part Eight - Nikki Sixx Fan Fiction

Words: 1477

Warnings: Language, alcol, drugs, soft smut

N/A: I know it took ages for me to update, but I'm really struggling through my first semester as a University student and time flew by like nothing. I hope you like it, feedback is appreciated as always <3

Huge thanks to @blonde-shamrock

Summary: Maya Prescott has done anything possible to fix her life. It was 1977 when she left her groupie life: no more parties, no more concerts, no more drugs, alcohol or casual sex, just to achieve a full standard life. Now it’s 1981 and after a four years disappearance  Maya Prescott unexpectedly shows up to the party of one of the most promising emerging bands of the LA’s rock’n roll scene: Motley Crue. But what should be her last ride is destined to change her life in so many unexpected ways.  

TagList: @motleycrueee  @babygal-babygal@unknownoblivion @sweetshutter​ @sparxx27​ @bandaid-rainbow​

Masterlist

Nikki’s POV

She was walking a few steps in front of me, the sound of her black heels on the sidewalk was all I could hear. We had taken a secondary road in order to avoid the mass of people that every night gathered down the Sunset Strip. Here the music was only a light background noise.

“Why are you running?” I asked as my lazy ass struggled to keep up with her. Maya stopped, waiting for me.

“You’re as slow as a sloth, and you’re not even wearing heels,” she mocked me, sliding her arm on the low side of my back, taking possession of my personal space; not that it bothered me anyways. I did the same embracing her shoulder, despite the height difference provoked by her pumps.

“I was afraid you were running from me,” I jokingly said, or at least I tried to make it seem like a joke. It had been almost a week since our ‘almost fuck’ and she had literally disappeared from our place. We had barely talked after that and she was making it pretty clear that she was not really into the idea of doing it, at least in the near future.

“I would never run away from you, Sixx!” her fake outraged voice was enough to make me laugh.

“Oh yeah? As if you hadn’t run away the other morning…” I liked to poke the bear every now and then. In the meantime, we were getting closer to the liquor store, the neon sign illuminating our path.

She rolled her eyes while a light, kinda bitter smile grew on her lips; it seemed like she was trying to find the correct reply to my words. It never took her too long to collect sarcasm.

“Well, to be fair… I wasn’t running away from you, but from the situation. I told you I don’t want to have sex with you that’s it.” She let go my hip trying to deviate towards the entrance of the store. I did the same with her shoulders, but I couldn’t help but hold her wrist preventing her from entering. She stopped, looking back at me, and lifted a brow “What?”

I gently pulled her closer, she didn’t bother to resist. “Well, to be fair,” I imitated her with a smirk “You asked me to fuck you.”

Her big blue eyes wandered around my face with an annoyed frown. She didn’t like to be contradicted.

“You were naked and you were touching me,” she pointed out, “I never denied that you’re attractive, I’m just trying to be a good girl; not sleep with every fucking human being that turns me on, and buy some fucking alcohol. Do you think I’ll get through all these tasks at least for tonight?” she listed with a straight face. I didn’t let go her arm; my curiosity was having the best of me.

“I think I’m gonna let you go through the last one if you tell me what is preventing you from having the most memorable night of your life with me.” I was not expecting an answer I just enjoyed too much messing with her.

“Well I don’t wanna risk you getting a crush on me for how well I ride your dick. That would be a problem.” She tried to hide a smirk by biting her lower lip. My imagination flew toward the picture of her getting wild on top of me. How come that I always ended up with a boner when I was around her?

“I bet It would be the opposite.”

She shook her head, “I’m not gonna bet with you, course then we’ll have to try and see and that is not gonna happen.” We looked at each other silently for a while; studying each other’s profiles as if we were both unsure whether to say something else or not, for a split second I almost considered pushing her to the wall and fuck her in the middle of the street.

“Let’s go buy some booze, Sixx,” she whispered, taking my hand, finally entering the shop.

We wondered the store buying as many bottles as we could, and dragged them on the way home.

-

Maya’s POV

The day of the shooting Vince had offered to drive me to the studio. There I met the photographer: his name was Robert Greiner and surprisingly he was not as creepy as the previous ones that I had met. He was pretty young, I wouldn’t have put him at more than thirty years old - definitely good looking, very caring too and interested in knowing what I was comfortable doing and what not. For the whole afternoon we shoot different photos under Vince’s watchful eyes, at times way too watchful.

“They’re gonna be amazing,” Robert reassured me for the tenth time after we were done. “If not, that means we’re gonna do them again, okay?” I nodded moving my hair to the side.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that is very important for me,” I apologised while with the eyes I followed his hands as he was storing the lensed he had used for the photoshoot.

“Your boyfriend is gonna love ‘em too,” he added with a playful but discrete smirk, I looked back at my blonde escort, I cleared my throat.

“Uhm, Vince is just a friend… but yeah I’m sure he will.” I smiled back. An awkward moment of silence stepped in as he was processing that new information.

“Well,” he zipped up his bag, “I’m gonna call you as soon as they’re ready.”

“I want a copy of each one of them!” was the first thing Vince told me once we headed out of the building towards the car. I lightly laughed shaking my head in disbelief.

“Do you think they were good?“

“I don’t think they were good, I know they were good! I mean if those pictures were the cover of magazine I would definitely buy it.”

I playfully pushed his shoulder and then took him by his arm and reached the car. The ride home didn’t take too long. When we arrived, we were still debating about the supposed interest that, in Vince’s opinion, Robert had shown for me.

“Well if that smile didn’t make him hard then the guy has a problem,” he was trying to make a point, failing miserably. We stepped into the apartment not even bothering to acknowledge the presents in the living room.

“Vince, darling you are not a very good term of comparison, you’re always hard.”

“That’s just because I’m always available to satisfy a lady in need. My dick is donated to society.”

“They used to call him the master at the grand entrance,” Beth’s voice didn’t seemed too pleased, while Vince looked pretty surprised to see her at the Motley house.

“Babe, I thought you were at your mom’s place.” I frowned, my eyes following Vinnie as he started arguing with the love of his life, till they moved towards a more private space.

“Why does she have to freak out every single time?” I asked the two boys that were sitting on the couch, but none of them answered. Instead Nikki studied me for a few seconds before questioning me.

“By the way… what were you two doing you together?” he wondered nonchalantly.

“C’mon she babbled all morning about this fucking shoot, man…” Mick, stiffly seated on the couch, intervened. It surprised me that he had actually listened. I pointed my finger at him nodding.

“See? Somebody actually cares about what I say!” I exclaimed while arranging the table for dinner.

“As if I had any choice,” the guitarist scoffed in his classic stoic way. He fixed his sunglasses up his nose and went back in silence. Nikki rolled his eyes before approaching the table to pick inside the In-N-Out Burger bag that me and Vinnie had brought. I slapped his hand as he tried to pick up a French fry.

“Hey!” I protested trying a second time and I slapped him again. His hazel eyes, unusually uncovered from his hair, widened, “Do that again and I swear you won’t be able to sit for the entire dinner!” he warned me.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” I jokingly teased, moving the bag away from his clutches.

“Both,” he replied with a douche-like smirk.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” Mick intervened again. I turned towards him ready to gift him with a sarcastic answer.

“Whoo French fries!” Tommy, who had appeared form the hallway stole a pack from the bag, interrupting me.

“What’s wrong with you guys!” I pushed both hands through my hair. “Vince! Beth! C’mon they’re gonna eat everything!” I called out to them, as I let the bag go, allowing the hungry animals, known as Motley Crue to start devouring the burgers.

[angeme8een-blog]

Casualties and Survivors

CHAPTER 1: AIRPORT LOUNGES AND FIDGETING LEGS

The romanticisation of airports has made life more difficult for travellers. It has permitted such overwhelming, not to mention unnecessary, public display of affection that inconveniences those who just want to methodically get from one country to another. Case in point are the hipster lovers who refused to detach their lips from each other, causing quite a ruckus at the drop-off lane. The already noise-polluted terminal air got more chaotic as several cab drivers started honking and yelling expletives at the tanned brunette and her blond lover.

“These young people know no manners anymore, aist!” Mr. Yang expressed his irritation as he scratched the side of his head. Brett wanted to give a cheeky response but he caught himself in fear of being given a proper lecture. Showing your dad how sassy your mouth is on a terribly hot day is a formula for disaster, and Brett knew well enough not to further rile-up his dad when his Chinese accent has already come through. Besides, he was just 30 seconds away from getting out of his dad’s 1997 Toyota Corolla. Might as well keep his thoughts to himself.

“Bretty boy, where is Eddy, huh?” his dad asked as he parked the car on an open drop-off spot and turned on the hazard light. Brett unlocked the passenger’s seat and began collecting his things while responding “he’s probably near. He told me his mom wanted to personally see him leave, unlike the last time we went on tour.” Mr. Yang helped Brett carry his luggage to the curb and onto a trolley before giving his son a hug.

“Now you go with my blessing. Be very good and kind, especially to Eddy. Call your mom from time to time, okay?”

“I will, dad. Thanks again for dropping me off. You should go back to the car before security decides to clamp your tire”

“Aist! I’m an old man, they should show respect!” Mr. Yang scratched the side of his head once more before going back to his car. Brett waved a final goodbye before he pushed his trolley towards the entrance. Once inside, Brett brought out his phone to check-up on Eddy.

“Bro, where you at? I’m already in line for security”

“Bro, please don’t kill me but I’m going to have to take the next flight out tomorrow morning. My sister went into labor five minutes after I left my house. We had to go back home to fetch her because no one else could drive her to the hospital. So now I’m here with Ma and we’re rushing to Queen Elizabeth’s” Eddy explained.

“It’s been 9 months already!? Damn, I totally forgot that Belle was pregnant” Brett slapped himself in the forehead.

“Dude…how could you have forgotten? Have you seen her tummy? It’s like she swallowed Pluto just after NASA announced it’s no longer a planet”

“I fucking heard that Eddy Chen!” Belle’s voice erupted in the background, prompting Brett to move his phone away from his ear.

“I’m sorry” Brett heard Eddy whisper to his sister. “Just hang in there, we’re about 10 minutes away from the ER. Now shush”

“Anyway, bro, so yeah. I’m really sorry about this” Eddy said.

“No worries! Just be there for your sister. Also, tell Belle I said goodluck! Wait, is that the appropriate thing to say to someone who’s about to give birth?”

“I’m not really sure but I think that kinda works. Update me when you’ve landed, alright? Don’t have too much fun without me. Also, practice!” Eddy said before hanging up.

Brett gave a small chuckle as he pocketed his phone. Leave it to Eddy to still be roasting his sister while she’s already in labor. The man’s sense of humour and quick wit are truly remarkable, not to mention unparalleled. Even Brett recognises the indispensable role of Eddy’s creativity in the growth of their channel. He concedes that most of the comedic content in their videos are products of Eddy’s ingenuity. There’s never a dull moment when Eddy’s around, and that’s why Brett is slightly disappointed that he would have to fly solo in his trip to the States. Just thinking about the long hours of sitting down and getting arse cramps every hour or so is already enough to bring Brett to a state of despair. Country hopping is fun, going from one city to another is too, but the actual travel is what really takes a toll on Brett’s energy and mood. He hates every single minute of it, especially the long wait in the airport. There are always way too many people, way too much noise, and way too much walking to do. He’s a musician, for Pete’s sake. His physical activities are limited to five minute walks (usually less since he spends most of his time indoors anyway) and the occasional Lingling workouts that push him over the edge. Just getting through security was enough for him to break a sweat.

After passing through the first round of metal detectors and the x-ray machines, Brett proceeded to the check-in counter of Qantas. It was a long wait before his turn so he decided to check on the ticket sales of their tour. Only two performances in the last city in their itinerary have not sold out yet, but he’s positive that it will eventually. TwoSet’s popularity suddenly grew during the first two weeks of January which the pair did not really expect. The abrupt spike in the number of views per video, not to mention reaching 2 million subscribers much earlier than expected, made the duo ecstatic and grateful beyond words. But their growing fame was a double-edged sword for it meant more work for both of them. It didn’t help that Eddy made a promise to their fans that once the channel reached 2 million subs, Brett would drop his Tchaikovsky recording. And so he had less than a month to perfect the popular piece before he finally performed it during the livestream they did last February. More than a million of the Lingling wannabes from all over the world watched him play the same piece he performed during his debut in 2012. It was nerve wracking, but it was pretty exciting too. Performing for his fans have always brought Brett so much joy, and he will gladly do it until the time when he physically can’t anymore.

“Sir? Please” the voice of the ground stewardess urging Brett to come forward to the counter broke his stupor.

“Sorry” Brett apologised as he handed his ticket. He was loading his luggage on the counter when he heard a pleading voice at the counter next to his. He decided to get a glimpse at the commotion, noting how disheveled and desperate the woman looked and how equally impatient the ground stewardess was becoming. Brett then abruptly withdrew his stare when he and the woman accidentally caught each other’s eyes. Brett continued to load his luggage so it won’t seem too obvious that he was eavesdropping.

“I’ll take any open seat. Please” the woman begged. The fatigue in the woman’s voice was evident, and Brett could not  help wondering if she was hungover or she just came from baby-sitting seven toddlers all at once.

“I’m sorry, madame. But so far the flight is fully booked. If you want, there’s another plane coming in at noon. I can book that for you” the passenger service crew explained.

“No, no. That would be too late. But please, if ever an opening comes up, please do notify me. I’ll give you my number” the woman said as she started scribbling on the piece of paper that the lady behind the counter gave.

“Mr. Yang, here are your boarding pass and your luggage tag. By the way, you received an upgrade courtesy of the airlines. You can use the Business Class lounge while waiting for your flight” the lady smiled at him as she handed Brett everything he needed. Upgrade? Brett thought to himself. That’s weird, specially since the other lady just said the flight’s fully booked.

“That’s generous, thank you” Brett said gratefully. “Oh, by the way, my friend Eddy Chen was supposed to fly with me but he won’t be able to make it because of a family emergency” he added before leaving the counter. Brett internally cringed at what he just did. He knew for a fact that the airline could not possibly use that information. They had protocols to follow when it came to cancellations. Aside from that, it was a really random thing to do.

Well, not random. Brett thought. You just wanted to help the panda-eyed woman without being to obvious. Damn she was tired. And damn, was I really obvious though.

Brett decided to shrug off that awkward incident by texting Eddy while he walked towards the lounge. He did not get any reply right away so he figured that his best friend was probably still attending to his sister. Upon arriving at the lounge and finding a spot to sit in, Brett decided to do some work. After he finished, he went to the bar to get something to drink and eat. He was munching on his crisps when he got a text from Eddy.

Bro, update our fans. Was supposed to do it but I totally forgot. And I reckon they’re not really interested in seeing a bloody head emerge between my sister’s legs yeah?

Jfc Eddy, you could’ve spared me the mental image. But yeah, yeah. I’ll do it.

Brett opened their instagram account and started going live. He once again thanked their fans for all the support they have shown, and then proceeded to update them about why Eddy was not with him at the moment. He was doing a mini Q&A when it was announced on the PA system that his flight is going to start boarding passengers in 15 minutes. Brett bid their fans goodbye, pocketed his phone, and left the bar to go back to where he sat before. He was ten steps away from his seat when he noticed that someone else was occupying the chair near the window. It was the same woman from the other counter, the one who was desperately pleading for a ticket.

Lucky her. I guess she did get what she needed after all. Brett muttered to himself as he sat himself in the sofa facing the woman. He placed his violin on his left and his carry-on luggage on the floor before bringing his eyes back to the girl near the window. She was holding a book open in front of her, though it appeared that she wasn’t really reading it. Her hazel eyes stared blankly at the pages of Sara Borjas’ Heart Like A Window, Mouth Like A Cliff as she bit on her left thumb.

Is she nervous? Brett wondered as he continued observing her.

He brought his eyes to her hair and noticed how it was haphazardly wrapped around a bun on top of her head, and it seemed like it would unravel itself at any moment. She was pale for a person who lived in Australia (summer is just about to end after all), but her cheeks had a little bit of red in them.

Is she ill? Has she just cried? Brett pondered. He continued staring at her as if she was a specimen in a laboratory.

Brett noticed that her right leg, which was crossed over her left, would not stop fidgeting. It would slow down from time to time but the shaking did not cease. Sometimes her free hand would slide down to her lap and she would start tapping it in sync with her fidgeting leg. There were instances when she’d bring her head up from her book and her eyes would almost lock with Brett’s, but he was quick enough to avert his stare whenever she was on the verge of moving her head. It was as if they were playing a game of hide and seek, except that no one was really seeking because only one was playing and he wasn’t even playing it well. He was just there, in plain sight, in open space, staring and ogling with no particular purpose. Just staring. And wondering.

Like a creep. Aist. Brett huffed as he realised how wrong it was to be people watching. Well, not people watching in general. Just the one. More aptly put, person watching. Or stalking he thought if I’m going to be honest with myself.

Brett’s slow descent into his own thoughts was interrupted once again by the PA system. His flight number was called, and its passengers were informed that they were to board in Gate C7. Since Brett got an upgrade into business class, he had the privilege of being accommodated first. Not to mention not having to walk all the way to Gate C7 because the airline lounge had a direct jet bridge that connected to the Boeing 787-9 which would carry hundreds of passengers from Brisbane straight to New York. Brett collected his things and walked towards the airline staff who collected his boarding pass and assisted him to the plane. He was greeted by the plane crew once he entered, and was directed to his seat.

“Would you like me to put that away for you?” The stunning flight attendant gestured to his violin.

“Would it be possible for me to keep it on my side?” He asked.

“Of course, Sir. I’ll just fetch some straps to keep it in place. I’ll be right back. Make yourself comfortable” she smiled before leaving for the cabin.

Brett immediately took a selfie and posted it on instagram. He messaged Eddy about the upgrade and teased the latter of leaving the duo to become a soloist. Eddy immediately replied with a picture of him with tears in his eyes. This made Brett laugh but also feel a twinge of melancholy at the same time because bantering with his best mate was way better in person than doing it digitally. Moreover, Brett started engaging in creepy recreational activities because of Eddy’s absence, and it was so out of character for him that he gave an internal scream.

Thank god that’s over Brett told himself as he inhaled deeply and settled himself in the plush window seat. He sent last minute text messages to his friends and family before he turned off his phone.

“Excuse me sir, here are the straps for your violin” the flight attendant from earlier returned with a pair of 13 inch black straps which she handed to Brett. He gave a slight nod and mouthed a thank you while receiving the straps. He then  proceeded to secure his violin to the side. Brett was about to close his eyes when the woman from the lounge entered and stopped at the chair beside him. She whispered something to the flight attendant who was assisting her before she took her seat.

Not again. Brett muttered to himself as he once again stared intently at the woman. He couldn’t take his eyes off her and he did not know why. She wasn’t exactly a head turner, but she had this aura about her that piqued Brett’s curiosity.

Curiosity. That’s it, I’m curious. That’s exactly the reason why I can’t look away. Brett thought.

There’s a story, surely there’s a story behind those tired hazel eyes. There must be because no one looked like that, like she carried the weight of the entire world on her shoulders, but at the same time radiate (but only minutely) a different, more positive energy.

Independence?

Brett guessed.

Gratitude?

Fulfilment?

Success?

It’s like he was playing charades with Eddy again, only this time the other person was a complete stranger and he can’t communicate, much more confirm, his guesses. He looked at her more intensely as he searched for more clues about the type of person that she was. First, he looked at her hands to check if she might have callouses similar to his. She had some, but it was on the wrong places. She was not a musician. Maybe she was a writer, or an architect. Brett was not able to come up with a proper conclusion as to her profession, but he decided that whatever she did had something to do with using her hands.

Second, he considered what she was wearing. She was just wearing tight jeans, black boots, and a plain knitted white sweater. She had no accessories nor any other apparel that would help her battle the weather once they land in New York.

Unless she has one in her carry-on. But I highly doubt that. Brett thought. He did not see her with any luggage at the check-in counter, nor in the lounge. She only had a big tote bag with her which she also declined to be placed in the overhead compartment. Brett inferred that this trip was a product of spontaneity, or panic. It really could go either way. But what was obvious was she did not plan this through.

Brett slowly lifted his sights up to study her face once more. But what happened next caused him to feel a rush of blood to his cheeks. She was staring at him. She saw him staring at him. And now their eyes were locked at each other and Brett did not know what to do.

Fuck.

[buttercup-of-kaer-morhen]

Of Thorns and Buttercups

~Ch 4/?~

(Beauty and the Beast AU, Kiiiinda. It has definite elements of the original story cause I’m a sap for Fairytale AUs. I hope you enjoy. Also shout out to @sophiakuso1 for being my beta. Here you can find Beginning or Previous) I asked my beta for help writing this chapter's summary and she gave me "Jaskier has an ADHD day". Thank you my dear. Very helpful. Or Jaskier tries to help figure out how to break a curse with nothing to go on while Geralt is nowhere to be found. 

Primary Tags: Beast! Geralt, Belle! Jaskier, Memory Alteration Via Curse, It really only affects Jaskier right now Also on AO3!

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“Does this mean I can stay?” Jaskier called after the retreating beast. The only response he got was a door closing in his face, metaphorically speaking seeing as he was a few dozen yards away from it, which was as good as a yes in his books. All in all though, the situation had worked out remarkably well. He wasn’t dead or likely to be maimed and the Beast had the bard’s company to keep him entertained now that it was apparent Jaskier couldn’t leave. It was a win-win as far as he was concerned and, seeing that there was no one else in the present company, he could continue to occupy the room he had chosen last evening. Which reminded him, he was only mostly dressed and still standing dumbly at the edge of the garden with all his things in his arms. Right. Well, as lovely as the crisp winter air was this fine… dawn, he’d rather be inside where it was a little cozier or at least fully dressed. 

Hurrying back inside, he decided his first few tasks should be to put his things back in his room and finish dressing, as well as tidy the room so as not to be rude. He may have been a surprise and maybe even an unwanted guest, but he wouldn’t be an unkempt one. Upon entering the room however, the hearth was lit, the curtains to the bed drawn, and the linens were made up neat and tidy. Which surprised Jaskier, but the beautifully tailored cornflower blue doublet with cutely embroidered little yellow buttercups, matching breeches, and a delicate white lace chemise completely baffled him. He couldn’t help the soft smile that played on his lips. For as gruff and cold as the beast was, it would seem he was awfully kind and sweet. Perhaps the sudden insistence on the bard’s departure had to do something with concern over his well being. Perhaps the curse? He had felt like he had been watched all night but the Beast wouldn’t have let him sleep soundly for as long as he had if his reaction from earlier was anything to go by. 

Jaskier thought over several ideas about the curse as he got redressed in the new clothing but nothing settled right with him. He needed more details but he was now fully determined to help the gentle beast. Getting information out of his stoic companion may prove to be tough, however, so there was always the second option. Snooping! He was terribly good at it, almost as good as he was at fooling people into believing he was a bumbling buffoon before ripping the rug out from under them for his own personal gain. He may be foolhardy with a dislike of bodily harm but he was quick witted and silver tongued. Both were qualities that could prove useful now.

Once dressed, he was ready to go find answers. He briefly debated whether or not he should grab his lute, but the constant itch to play had dulled as the pain in his heart grew, so he left without it. Knowing where to start was rather tricky, however. The gardens were enchanted ,but obviously there was something going on in the keep as well. Then there was always the tail from the night prior that disappeared around a corner further down from his room. It couldn’t have been the Beast’s Jaskier thought. The pelts were different. His Beast’s pelt was white as lilies or fresh fallen snow while the tail had not been. It was silver like a moon lit lake with dapples of gray and black on the surface. 

He decided a strange creature was always the way to go and if he got into trouble, he knew he could call for help. If the beast wanted him dead then he would have killed him already. Letting a monster or wild animal kill him seemed rather contrary to his actions. So, off he went down the hall. He looked high and low, squeezed through broken doors and under debris, as little as there was, but came up short. No magical looking artifacts, or sigils on the walls or floors, and certainly no other living beings to be seen. He couldn’t even find a measly journal or letter to boot. Just dust, old lavish rooms, and literature that was rather unextraordinary. He huffed as he scuffed the heel of his boot on the stone floor in disappointment, backtracking the way he had come. The Beast was also nowhere to be found which made his spirits drop further. The bard hoped he wouldn’t be avoided the entire time, it would be awfully lonely.

Deciding his next stop was the magical gardens, he picked himself up and bolstered his thoughts. The day was far from done, and there were still places to look and time to ingratiate himself with the other fellow. Now Jaskier realized that it may take a while to look through the grounds but he had underestimated just how big they were. The front was already large as it reached from the house to the treeline in a few dozen yards, but the garden around the back was almost maze-like and he wasn’t sure he could see the treeline from near the back entrance. The back also held a variety of flowers that hadn’t appeared in the front but there was no rhyme or reason to what was planted. Most nobility had an aesthetic they wished to achieve with a very particular color scheme, which the front gardens had, but which the back garden lacked completely. There were only fourteen flowers, as far as he could see, that bloomed all over the place. No others. No order. It all proved to be a very odd sight. Perhaps they had some kind of use or significance? Off hand he knew the blue hydrangea symbolized a frigid heart apologizing and the yellow Asphodel meant I’m sorry, which he may or may not have made use of, but he couldn’t remember the others off the top of his head. The only reason he bothered to learn the symbolism of botany, which was not a popular art across the continent but it did exist and was rather interesting, was because it was an aid to lend depth to his prose and lyrical tales… and it came in handy when trying to charm a person of higher status than he, but their magical or alchemical properties still eluded him. There wasn’t much need for that knowledge earlier in life, which he was regretting now. There were some books inside if he remembered correctly so he could gather a sample of each flower and see if any lady squirreled away a journal with writings of flowers which he could use to look them up. Thankfully, the canary yellow cloak he grabbed, which had rested conveniently by the entrance, had rather deep hidden pockets. So, away he went, carefully collecting flora for later use. 

In the middle of the collecting specimens, a nasty little thistle caught his finger as he went to pluck it. A drop of scarlett welled up on his fingertip before he placed the finger in his mouth and used the other to pluck the offending sprig. The shock of the sudden pain was only matched by the surprise that nearly stilled his heart for a beat as he righted himself. To his right, a lynx with a pelt that shined like liquid silver stood just down the path leading into the garden maze. If that wasn’t a big sign screaming freaky magic or cursed creature, then Jaskier would eat his fucking lute. As strange magical things often did, it didn’t seem inclined to make things easy for him. It suddenly took off down the footpath away from him, and he was forced to inelegantly scramble after it. “W-wait!” He tried to call after the animal but it either didn’t understand or it elected to ignore him. He skidded around corners and stumbled over gravel to stay within eyesight of the fur ball of energy. It felt equivalent to the time he had tried to catch the wayward family cat of a countess he had been rather fond of at the time and had instead made a rather marvelous spectacle of himself. He had felt like he was finally getting some of the ground between them to shorten but in his excitement, his foot caught a patch of ice that sent him toppling over and by the time he scrambled to look up, the beautiful lynx was gone. A well of disappointment filled his ribs as he knelt there in the snow, trying to regain his breath. Why couldn’t he be of any use? The thought had something in his heart twisting in old pains. Would he really be of any help to the Beast or would he just be in the way like he was back home? There was another time in his life that he vaguely remembered of him trying, fruitlessly it would seem, to be of help but it was so muddled in his memory that he couldn’t fully recall.

Disheartened, Jaskier eventually got his feet under him and slowly picked his way out of the maze from the way he came with only damp, cold clothes to show for his efforts. With how heavy the snow fall was, he couldn’t even find any mark or indication of which ways he needed to turn to come back, if he so had the desire. In the spring, it might have been a lovely place to spend hours wandering through with a beloved or chase one another through in the way of a romantic overture, but now it just felt like a cold tedious exercise in futility. It was like if you were trying to navigate the cold heart of the one you knew would never choose you. At first you have hope but with every dead end, your heart breaks more, and you eventually have to give up because you’re cold, wet, and alone, with no one to hug you better. Sadly this seemed more common than not in life. The heart always yearns for something it could not have, so to soothe it, you settle for cheap thrills and single nights of sweet lies. Oh how terribly morose he had become in life and obviously these were observations that had nothing to do with him personally. So lost in his mournful rumination, he had not realized how late in the day it had gotten until he finally emerged from the maze. The sun was already past the middle of the sky and Jaskier wondered if he was just going daft or if the days and nights were also magical in how they passed. He doubted he could unravel the complex mysteries of every magical occurrence found in the place. Not that he wanted to, since he had already had his hands full with the curse. He pushed the thought away to question at a different time. 

With low spirits, Jaskier trudged around the other side of the keep he had not taken earlier and stumbled upon a stable that looked to be in good condition. Curiosity once again pulled him forward and had him peeking inside. To his surprise, there was a lone beautiful chestnut mare, which brought a smile to his lips. Ducking in and closing out the cold behind him, he went to the horse's side. “Oh Roach!” He found himself happily exclaiming as he pet her neck which earned a soft whinny, only to stop short puzzled. Did he just call the lovely animal by a fish’s name? Why on earth would he… And now that he thought about it, how would he recognize this horse out of all the others he had seen or met in passing? He did not own a horse but still something about her pulled up memories that he couldn’t seem to reach out and touch, but which carried a fond feeling nonetheless. Perhaps she reminded him of another horse from his past that was connected to whoever he was currently having trouble remembering. If the way his heart strings tugged tighter at the thought was anything to go on, he assumed he guessed correctly.  But why would he remember the horse instead of the human…? Unless the horse was the more pleasant of the two but he doubted it. Regardless, this could not be that horse. Just one that looked similar. “Oh my dear, I do truly apologize for calling you by another’s name.” He whispered as he continued his gentle stroking and slowly rested his forehead against her. The sweet thing huffed before leaning into him. Slowly he furled his arms around her neck lightly and hugged the wonderful companion who indulged him in his need of comfort. “My darling, I fear that I may not know what to do now… I’m not even sure if I can win over the dear beast of the keep…” He sighed woefully, his voice unusually small for how he was. The mare however seemed to be having none of his self pity as her head bobbed and she nickered reproachfully, but in what he assumed was an encouraging reproach. He huffed a short laugh and looked up at his new friend with a smile as he pet her neck in thanks. “You’re very right. I can’t give up after only the first day! I have plenty of time to figure things out and hopefully get the Beast to accept my help.” He said with new conviction, his spirits rising once again with the new encouragement. As a side thought, the bard never expected a beast would need a horse for any reason but perhaps it had gotten lost and was given a home here by the kind gentleman. It looked to be well taken care of though; clean stall, full fresh food, and blankets to keep away any chill that came with the fall of night. As Jaskier made his way to leave, he promised to visit again soon and he made a mental note to bring a treat of some kind as thanks. 

Crossing the courtyard to the house reminded the bard of how his clothing was soggy, and his elbows and knees were stained from the fall. He felt guilty because the Beast had left the lovely garments out just for him and he had yet to thank him. Not wanting the embarrassment of running into the other in such a state and having to explain that he had already ruined the kind gift, he quickly made for his room to get changed. Once he was inside then he could breathe freely again. Safely in his own chamber, he draped the borrowed cloak over the chair belonging to the small desk in the corner beside the fireplace and turned to find his pack to rummage for something decent to put on. To his surprise however, an outfit of midnight blue fabric with silver trimming laid on the bed. The fabric was thick but soft to the touch, and had a lovely brocade pattern of astrological symbols on it and small pearls dotting it like stars in the pattern of constellations. The chimese was a soft, dove gray, there were new boots of black, buttery leather, and fleece stockings to pull the whole ensemble together. It was such a beautiful set and he felt a little choked up at the thought that the Beast was giving him such nice things. Perhaps there was an expectation he would wear it for dinner? That meant the Beast wanted to eat together! It had the bard all the more resolute in trying to help. It was nice to receive something though. Usually he was the one always trying to give gifts to buy even a fraction of attention from young ladies of higher breeding. The only gifts he ever got were coins, or food and drink in exchange for his performance, or the threat of injury for having chased away his woes with the wrong person in one night of lonely passion. Ah, there were those sullen thoughts again. Jaskier waved them away as he washed up a bit at the small wash basin in the room and folded the soiled garments, putting them to the side to deal with later, before slipping on the lovely new clothing. He checked himself in the mirror before heading for the discarded cloak again. Intent on unraveling their secrets, he drew the cuttings from the pockets and carefully, thankful for the fact that they were mostly intact. If there were none to be found though, he supposed he could always just put a bouquet together for the Beast. Perhaps the gentle fellow just adored those particular blooms. Perhaps that was why the flowers were everywhere. The thought had Jaskier chuckling. The great big beast hunched over the flowers in the spring as he gently tended to them. The bard wondered if he would be there come the next spring to witness it. It almost sounded idyllic. He could see himself in a simple life similar to that. A cottage by the sea, flowers filling the garden, and his loved one tending to the flowers as he played soft music. A silly dream for a hopeless romantic, he would admit, but everyone was allowed just one, weren’t they?

With a sigh, he looked at the arrangement in front of him. He had grabbed the devilish little thistle that had snagged him. It looked to be a zinnia, though he knew nothing about the flower. It was a purple cluster of flowers of some kind, and a pink flower that went from soft pastel at the tip of the mouse ear shaped petal to a darker pink near the base. His knowledge of flowers was lax compared to his other, finer artistic knowledge and lessons of etiquette but he thankfully had the ability to name some of the flowers. Oddly enough, he felt like he had some practise identifying and picking medicinal flowers but he once again came to a wall in his own memory. Realizing it wouldn’t work well to try looking up flowers he had no name for, he added a plant identification reference book to his list of texts to find. He hoped in the vast space there would at least be an equally vast library of some kind that would conveniently have what he was looking for. Leaving the florets carefully laid across his desk, he left the room once again for his next search. The rooms in this upper part of the wing were particularly useless once again, aside from the small pocket journal of The Language of a Gentle Heart: Secrets of Floral Arrangement which was most likely written and titled by a starry eyed lady who needed a hobby. He found it questionable at best, but upon closer inspection, it was revealed to be a compilation of notes which were cross referenced from other sources with the meaning of flowers. Then the second small journal was more like a manual which the writer entitled The Art and Language of Flora for the use of Assassination and Deception and found under a mattress, also dubios but eye catching regardless. There was also still no sign of habitation of any of the rooms, which meant the Beast really didn’t live in this wing, or he had not been to his room at all and was hiding somewhere in the castle. Both scenarios were equally as likely at that point. Deciding to check elsewhere, he debated if there was anything of actual use in the other, more decayed wing of the keep before figuring that it’d be his last place to check if he really could not find everything he needed in the lower rooms of the fortress. 

On the lower level, Jaskier first found the kitchens all the way down past the dining room he had been in  the night prior and down a set of stairs. The kitchen was obviously well used but maintained and cleaned. The kitchen led to packed larders and pantries, brimming with food which, astonishingly, all looked fresh and not in the slightest bit old. Giving up on the kitchen, he briefly ducked his head back into the dining room and found his memory was correct. It only held the partially set long dining table, the fireplace, and occasional bits of decoration to liven it up. Next to the dining room was a private cabinet for the men and a boudoir for the women. Why they had the need of two separate, gender specific rooms to let honored guests relax in was beyond him. The only mildly interesting things held within were a smattering of tapestries, trophies, and ceremonial/decorative armor pieces, as well as various apparatuses to toil away time with, such as looms and such. All of them were nice, but not so useful. Jaskier moved onto the final room on this side of the main staircase. All he wanted were books. Just give him books! The door had been stubbornly shut but he had managed to wiggle through the crack he had opened. Beyond the large opulent doors a great hall, or at least what was left of one, laid. The throne was overturned, tables were splintered heaps, and the tapestries and banners were sliced to ribbons, rendering the crest unidentifiable. It sent a chill down his back so he quickly departed from that venture. 

Crossing to the other side of the stairs, he ventured on, undeterred by the lack of progress he had made so far. Starting at the far end again, he was surprised to find a servants passageway that led up and down. Going up, he found himself in his wing of the castle and huffed before heading back down. The pathway down looked dark and damp, which didn’t seem very appealing, but he was committed so he grabbed a nearby light source in the form of a candelabra and descended. It was as damp and uninviting as he expected, but he did find a small room in the dark undercroft, obscured slightly from view, which had him wondering whether that was intentional or not. Opening the aged door, he found a stillroom of sorts. Dried plants that looked like they were left and forgotten, hung neatly around the room. There were suspicious jars and vials Jaskier specifically did not touch, but more importantly there were hand drafted journals and reference texts on medicinal plants and alchemy. He grabbed The Botanist’s Companion to The Identification of Flora, and something that had no real title but inside was filled with alchemy and lists of ingredients with their common uses. Elated to find something hopefully useful, Jaskier headed back up with his bounty and used the servants passage to drop off the books on his desk before continuing his search of the lower rooms. He also replaced the candelabra in its rightful place, of course. Next to the secret stairs, there was a large bathing house where the tubs were stored, and hot water flowed into basins for collecting. He guessed the warm water was just another magical occurrence of the place. There was enough space in the place however to just set up a bathtub and designate the room as a place to clean up if he so wished to. It was definitely a place of interest for a later time, but practically useless to his current venture. There was then a solar specifically used by the private family to withdraw to, if Jaskier remembered correctly, but about as interesting as the boudoir or the private cabinet. With only two doors to go, Jaskier felt some anticipation even with how tired he was becoming from all the running earlier and the searching.The first of the two, to his absolute delight, was a grand music hall filled with instruments of all kinds and collections of scores he could plunder through at another time. There was even a massive harp of artistry far beyond any he had seen, that was hard to find today. Most wanted them portable for ease of use but this one sat squarely where it was. He had never played a harp like it and would mostly spend hours slowly easing his way through learning the beautiful piece but it looked majestic where it stood. He didn’t have the time to mess around though  but he did swear he’d be back. The sound of a string being plucked in the empty room behind him as he turned to leave only hastened his exit. The final stop--at last--revealed a library. How he managed to not find this place sooner was beyond him. He was here now though, and that's what truly mattered. The one issue, however, was that the library was in fact intimidatingly expansive. Not only could someone not read all of these books in a lifetime but it was also a major fire hazard in the bards eyes. 

Sighing in the face of his daunting task, Jaskier first tried to figure out if there was any kind of categorical system similar to what was back at the Oxenfurt College Library. To his luck, there was, but it was nothing like the complex system he had to learn. Whoever built and organized the library went with the simple method of organizing it by genre which made finding the reference texts all the easier. Although most scholars would sneer at such organization, Jaskier found it charming as he strolled through to find the reference texts and educational tutoring books for young nobles. Sifting through that section of shelves proved tedious but prolific. He found a wide range from books on the upbringing of a proper young lady to more academic texts on plants taught to young women and men alike. What he had been searching for however were books he had seen at Oxenfurt but never touched. The Herbarium and Antidotarium which were nestled amongst the rest of the books. All the books were handwritten and illustrated obviously, but these were beautiful in comparison to some. 

Gathering the two books he found, he brought them back up to his rooms. It was a start, and a very good one at that. Sadly, he wasn’t able to find any nefarious magical looking grimoires, but he could get somewhere with this… Hopefully. He set the new books neatly down with the others on the desk, and was meaning to take a seat to get started, when two thudding knocks came at his door. They weren’t so hard as to be a furious pounding, but not gentle either, and it had him only the tiniest bit concerned. He went to the door after a moment of hesitation, intending to open it, when a familiarly rough voice called out. “Are you not going to eat, Bard?” Displeased confusion had Jaskier almost panicking just before he yanked the door open. Right! The beast had left the outfit as his intention to dine with Jaskier! He had been so busy searching that he had completely forgotten. 

“Very kind of you to worry and come fetch me.” He responded, trying to flash his most charming ‘I totally didn’t forget plans’ smile up at the Beast. 

The Beast grunted and shifted from one foot to the other, directing his gaze away. “...It was getting late. That’s all…” 

“Not to worry, I was just on my way down. Got caught up with something, is all! It is nice to head down together though.” The smaller man smiled, enjoying the opportunity presented by the Beast to start a good friendship between them! He grabbed hold of the darling fellow’s arm and tugged him along to their awaiting dinner, not giving him a chance to reconsider after Jaskier’s unfortunately rude tardiness. By the heavens above him, he will break the ice between them.

Getting him there and seated was easy but as they sat at opposite ends of the ridiculously long table, Jaskier suddenly found it hard to find the words to start the conversation rolling. Who needed a table this long?! Dinner looked lovely, however, and he could easily use it as a way to fall into a comfortable food induced silence. However, yet another problem presented itself in the form of all the food being in the center of said ridiculously long table and the lack of servants. Jaskier considered options of how to fix this dilemma when the food suddenly started coming to him, or at least the dishes with the food did. Jaskier may or may not have yelped but in a very dignified manner if he did say so himself. He would admit it was not on the list of his finer moments, but it did seem to get an amused snort out of the Beast, although his mask of stoicism was still firmly in place when Jaskier looked at him. Nevertheless, the amusement still danced in the other’s gem-like eyes, and Jaskier almost wanted to clap happily at the small victory, but was smart enough to refrain. “Everything’s enchanted.” A deep rumble pulled Jaskier out of his mental victory celebration.

“What?” He questioned dumbly. Good job. Real smooth, he internally berated himself, holding back a blush. 

“All the furnishings… They’re enchanted.” The Beast clarified again, as if he were speaking to a child, but twitch of his brow belied the amusement of the fact that Jaskier had somehow not noticed. 

“Oh...Oh!” Jaskier processed the information before sighing in relief. “I am very glad to know this place isn’t haunted or filled with things trying to frighten me to death.” He joked but the thought had crossed his mind originally. “Why… Why didn’t they just move in front of me? Why only when I wasn’t watching?” He couldn’t help but ask the question out of interest. 

The Beast shrugged. “Maybe the enchantment has some weird rules when it comes to people not affected by the curse… Or they could be shy, although they’re not technically alive. They move like puppets with no strings…” The grumbled explanation was a little stilted and clumsy, but endearing in a way. It was almost as if the other was unused to speaking to anyone. The thought alone made the bard pity the Beast. The idea of ghostly puppeted furniture was still not very comforting though. 

“... Hmmm, unsettling but I suppose it’s good to know. Thank you Beast.” The comment had the other’s shoulders sagging a bit, and Jaskier immediately knew he somehow misstepped. After mentally slapping himself, he tried to salvage things quickly. “Thank you by the way.” He flashed a shy smile but this only elicited a noncommittal hum while the Beast continued to look anywhere but at Jaskier. “For the, um, clothes… It was kind of you.”

The Beast silently seemed to either ignore the words or chose not to comment as he began piling food onto his plate. Well, Jaskier supposed that was his way of dismissing the conversation, so the bard followed his example and began to serve himself. Eating, contrary to what Jaskier had thought before, left them mostly in a stilted silence. Although the Beast was large and disproportionate to the size of the cutlery, he managed to eat cleanly, but with no grace. Many people, Jaskier knew, would have been utterly scandalized by the situation, but he found himself thinking it was charming in a weird way. The bard thought he may have a second chance to reignite the conversation once they finished eating but, to his dismay, the Beast finished before him and promptly left. Now alone, Jaskier berated himself for fucking up. He felt the silence weigh in on him, the comfortable warm feeling that came with the other’s company at the beginning now abruptly gone. It left him feeling woefully abandoned to be honest. Not very hungry suddenly, Jaskier elected to retire early for the evening. 

Back in his chambers, he tried to start his work. The first step being to identify the ones he was unable to, obviously. The pink mousy petaled ones turned out to be cyclamens while the cluster of purple florets were hyacinth after a bit of searching. Somehow, looking at the deep purple of the hyacinth made his already uneasy stomach, from how dinner ended, turn. He frowned, remembering the violet eyes of a witch who, although beautiful, only inspired what felt like terribly negative feelings blooming in his chest. He sighed, pushing back in his chair and crossing his legs at the ankle. If he had to guess, it might have been jealousy that took root. It was an unkind feeling and he knew she had done nothing really to inspire such feelings, at least as far as in his mind, but his chest felt otherwise. He remembered the terrible first meeting and the barbs and jabs from early in their acquaintance but he also remembered the playful insulting and occasional companionable chats when they crossed paths later down the line of their affiliation. Then something happened and it only left a bitter taste in his mouth. He couldn’t for the life of him remember the details. He realized it wasn’t jealousy then but a moment of recognition of the fact that he would never be enough while she was. He wasn’t the one wanted, and it left him rather empty and tired from trying so hard. He sighed again as he closed his eyes and let his head fall back. He was too tired from everything that happened earlier and the low humor he now found himself in wasn’t conducive to work, so he shut the book he had been using and set everything aside so he could ready himself for sleep. He stripped of the handsome garments and folded them carefully into a dresser for another day. He chose out a large black tunic from his pack that seemed too large to be his, but put it on because it soothed him in a way he couldn’t fully understand. Nonetheless, he appreciated it. He drew the drapes closed and settled in for the night, feeling cold even with all of the blankets. The night was deep and long, but Jaskier tried to sleep away the dour thoughts and unease in his heart. 

[dreams-madeof-strawberrylemonade]

Sound of Nature- Part 1

Warnings: Slight drinking and swearing Word count: 1945 Josh Kiszka x Reader

Part 1- By the Fire 

After a couple of hours, you finally got to the destination. To be completely honest, hearing Josh and Jake arguing every 15 minutes annoyed you the most and you were already tired of hearing them argue. Vic had fallen asleep on the road, her legs propped up against the chair Sammy was on.

You finally hopped out of the car and stretched your legs. You look around at the wonderful view surrounding you: a large lake was extended nearby, and almost on the shore, was a small treeless portion, ideal for camping. Over the lake, you could see the shape of the mountains forming. You take a deep breath in and enjoy the silence around, which was interrupted only by the occasional sound of leaves being blown by the soft, chilly wind and the light chirps of the birds nearby.

“This is going to be a lot of fun, don’t you think?” Josh spoke up, approaching you. You turned your head to see him better and the image in front of your eyes was looking like an art piece. You took a moment before answering, to take in the sight- Josh’s soft curls being slightly ruffled from the wind, his smile that always brightened your day and the landscape behind, made it all seem like too much. You have obviously fallen for him quite a while ago, but you wouldn’t admit that because you knew it would only break your heart to hear the truth- that you were only friends and the possibility to be anything more than that didn’t exist.

“It definitely will be, if you and Jake wouldn’t argue as much as you did on the road,” you laughed sassily, trying to hide the slight pink tint that your cheeks got.

“Hey, who said that I will argue with Jake? I could argue with Sam, or Danny if that will make you feel better,” he laughed, showing his perfect set of teeth once again.

You grinned a little and walked towards the car. You started helping the unpacking. You unloaded the snacks from the trunk while the boys started fighting the tents.

It took them quite some time to set up all your tents, but once they were done, everything looked perfect. The sun just began to set and the last of its shiny rays made the lake water sparkle like jewels. You admired everything- the lake shining for the last minutes that day, the camp finally set up, the wooden logs set around the place where soon a fire will be lit, and most importantly, your best friends laughing.

“Should we light the fire?” you ask. “It’s starting to get dark.”

The boys stopped unpacking the drinks and snacks they brought and looked at each other and the smile from their faces slowly faded away.

“You forgot to get wood, didn’t you?” you raised an eyebrow, barely holding back a laugh.

“What are you looking at? Go get some! Meanwhile, me and Y/N need to have a talk.” Victoria pitched in, pointing at you.

The boys slowly approached the shallow forest behind our small camp.

“Y/N, this is your chance,” Vic said as she approached you. “Tell Josh how you really feel about him.”

You blinked and tried to play dumb. “And how do I feel about him?” Victoria has been your best friend for years now, but since your last relationship, you still had trust issues with anyone, her included. You didn’t confess to anyone, ever, what was on your mind, love-related. You liked to keep these things to yourself. But seems like Victoria saw right through you this time.

“Come on, don’t start this. I am not going to force you, but all I am saying is that if you were looking for the right time to talk to him about this, this is the moment. I see the way you look at him, it’s obvious,” Vic tried to talk you out of keeping things to yourself.

You promised Vic you would think about it, but didn’t promise you would say anything. Just in time, Danny returned to the camp, shortly followed by Sam, Jake and Josh. They sat down the branches they brought.

“Who’s ready to get fucking drunk?” Josh let out a shout, a shout that turned into a song. Everyone cheered as he held two bottles of alcohol up.

You all got your drinks in small quantities, and you started having a good time. Jake took out the guitar and played a couple of his favorite songs and Josh picked up his new hobby- storytelling. He told you stories from the tour they just got back from.

You were sat cross-legged on the log across the one where Josh was, braiding Danny’s dark hair and listening to the stories Josh told you. Vic was sitting next to Sam, playing cards, and she was beating him.

Slowly but surely, everyone got a little drunk.

“How about we play a truth or dare game?” Vic suggested. Your eyes moved from your fingers tangled in Danny’s hair to Vic’s eyes in an instant. You knew what she was trying to do.

“Dare,” Josh started, his lips curved up in a grin. You stopped for a moment from doing anything and looked at Josh. It was cruel- this feeling you had. Even though you grew up with the boys and they were your best friends, you were still feeling guilty that you couldn’t tell any of them about how you felt about Josh, not even him. Even though you knew they had always helped you with any kind of problem and you knew how supportive they have always been, you still couldn’t tell them anything. You couldn’t tell them the way your heart skipped a beat every time Josh smiled, laughed or hugged you.

You spaced out for a while, and snapped back to reality when you heard Josh’s loud laughs coming from the lake. Vic dared him to jump in fully clothed, and Josh, being Josh, obviously agreed. He soon returned to the fireplace, water dripping off of him. Once he got a fresh change of clothes, he took back his place on the log, by the fireside.

“You’re next,” he said pointing at you. Your cheeks slightly light up, thank God it was dark outside and no one could notice.

“Truth.”

“What’s your favorite memory, ever?”

Every single one we have together you wanted to say, but stopped just in time. After a moment of thinking, you picked a particular one. “When we all went on the 4th of July at a barbecue in the countryside and then went to a pool, three years ago. Do you remember that day? The dog of the old lady living nearby our barbecue spot started chasing us and he chased us for a long time, until we gave up a vegan sausage, which it didn’t eat, but at least it left us alone.”

The boys slightly laughed at the memory of that day as you resumed, this time, unbraiding Danny’s hair. His hair was even frizzier than before and it made you chuckle as you played with his hair. Sam filled everyone’s glasses once again as the game continued.

The game continued for quite some time, but the boys were starting to get tired. You weren’t tired, you were actually having a good time, so you decided to stay outside until sunrise. Everyone but Josh left in their tents. Josh drank the rest of his drink and motioned with his hand to come next to him.

Your heart skipped a beat, as usual. You sat down on the log next to him and admired the landscape for a moment. Josh laid down on the log, head in your lap and his eyes moved from the starry night sky with red hints from the upcoming sunrise to your face as his lips parted and eyes slowly closed.

“Y/N?” he asked after a while, as if to check if you were still awake. You just hummed as a response. “Do you know which is my favorite memory?”

“The memory that you were born 5 minutes before Jake?” you joked and managed to earn a laugh from Josh. His eyes opened and looked straight at you.

“That too. But I wanted to tell you that the moment you came for us at the airport, last week,” he answered as his eyes closed again. “We have known each other for what- 15 years now? When we met for the first time I would have never imagined that we will still be best friends after so many years. I am thankful for having someone like you in my life.”

This made your heart skip a beat and you remembered the day you met Josh and Jake for the first time.

They were both eight, as were you. You just moved in the neighborhood, and your mother insisted you go with her and meet the neighbors. When Karen Kiszka opened the door, you could see the two boys fighting over the remote, in the room behind her. They stopped when they saw you looking at them and they approached the door. Karen invited you and your mother into their home.

Josh approached you and extended his arm. “I am Joshua Michael Kiszka,” he said and you grabbed his hand and shook it.

“Y/F/N, nice to meet you Joshua Michael,” you smiled.

“I am Jake,” Jake said as well and did the same gesture as Josh.

“Do you want to see our dad’s record collection?” Josh suggested shyly and you nodded eagerly.

You followed the boys and spent hours with them. They played you all their favorite records and by the end of the day, Karen served you all with fresh cookies and hot chocolate, and you then met Sammy, who was three years younger than you and the twins.

As the days passed, you all started getting along better and better. Some years later, when Sammy met Danny, you all met and got along perfectly.

Your eyes teared up a little bit at this memory. You quickly wiped the tear off your cheek, but Josh had already noticed it.

“Hey, what happened?” he quickly stood up and put a protective arm around your shoulder. He has always done this, since you were kids. Every time you fell in the park and hurt your knee or your arm, Josh came next to you and comfort you.

“It’s nothing, Josh,” you lied and faked a smile. You stood like that for a moment, in silence.

Josh obviously didn’t fall for your fake smile. “Y/N, what’s going on? Is it something I said? I am so, so sorry, I didn’t think it would make you sad-”

“No, Josh, it’s alright, really. I just thought about this, about us. How time passed and we still remained best friends even though we’ve been through so much bullshit together and had our fair share of fights, and-“ you started but stopped just in time. And I like you, Josh, but I don’t want to mess up our friendship- that’s what you wanted to tell him.

“And?” he insisted. He pulled you into a hug, a reassuring one. A hug that said I am here for you, through good and bad.

You hugged him back and finally let it out, in a whisper. “And I like you.”

He pulled away from the hug and looked you straight in the eyes. The sky behind you got a red and orange color, while the clouds remained dark-colored and the fire beside you was giving off heat was lighting up Josh’s facial features. But his eyes remained unreadable.

Tags: @myownparadise96, @jeordinevankiszka, @littlegeekwonder

[finn0]

All the houses I’ve lived in

1. 94 Queens Rd, New Lambton, NSW

My parents current house since 1989 and the house I’ve had sex with the most people in. A regular two storey house opposite bush on a nice street with neighbours that don’t talk to you (perfect). 3 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms with air con, a big fireplace, pool and massive garage. Lovely, but I don’t expect to inherit it so the attachment must remain minimal.

2. 11 Cobb Ct, Annandale, QLD

Okay formative toddler years were spent here. A tropical style bungalow with the lowest ceilings you’ve ever seen and even lower hanging ceiling fans (take off your shirt with caution). A massive pool constantly populated with cane toads year round that saturated the yard with chlorine every time a cyclone blew through. More floor space than is necessary for anyone. Horrible, angry neighbours that hated children. Short walk to shops, no air con despite Townsville being the armpit of the country. I spent almost all of time sitting on a Big Bird beanbag watching Sesame Street and screaming in abject terror every time there was a toad sitting in the toilet bowl (which was worryingly frequent).

3. 27 Woodrose Cres, Sinnamon Park, QLD

Literally the ugliest house I’ve ever seen in my life. Gaudy, over-tiled, far too big for any family, nothing but white tiles everywhere and not a tree, nor plant, nor weed in the backyard, just grass the colour of hay. Who in Brisbane requires an attic? Who requires THAT many bedrooms? What the FUCK is that suburb name? This house we thankfully lived in for no more than 7 months but good God what a relief.

4. 45 Clarence Rd, Waratah, NSW

My grandmother Bessie’s house. We lived there for a year while I was in pre-school and while my parents house was being renovated. Absolutely fascinating house that each grandchild loved to visit. The most bizarre things were to be found there. First of all it was a regular 2 bedroom home with gaudy wallpaper and a 1950′s kitchen and bathroom, plenty of living space etc. BUT the bizarre flat that was downstairs under the house that was built for my great-grandmother to inhabit was like stepping a 1950′s motel room. Pea green bathroom, pink kitchen, rising damp, mouldy wallpaper, dust upon dust upon bugs upon discarded venetian blinds. Oh my goodness it was amazing down there. It smelled like a nursing home. PLUS under the house was this enormous space all covered in dirt and other crap and trinkets and sheets. ZERO light penetrated this space and therefore was the best place to crawl around and get spooked. The laundry, also under the house, had high ceilings that were stained a Jackson Pollock amount of colours from years of laundry and rising damp and rain leaks AND leading from under the cupboards in the kitchen upstairs was a laundry chute that led all the way down to the laundry WHICH smaller grandchildren could actually fit into and snake their way down to avoid the prying eyes of older cousins during games of hide and seek. Until you were too big to fit. Like I found out one day. Not an easy search and rescue mission, I’ll tell you that. OH AND the back bedroom had some creepy as shit naked dolls with no hair and meth eyes that rolled back in their head along with like strange 60′s childrens paraphenalia and tiny trinkets that I later found out were things like ACTUAL jewels from Scotland and vintage broken Rolex watches. Also I remember sleeping in that room in my mothers childhood single bed while she slept next to me in another, while my father slept next to my grandmother in a separate single bed in her room (why??). Later after she died, new owners bought the place and my mother met them after a few years and asked if they thought the place was haunted to which they replied an unequivocal “YES”, my mother then asked if they left dishes out in the sink of a night, to which they replied “.....yes” and Mum was like “Well that’s the culprit, my mother would NEVER allow that” and the look of understanding coupled with genuine fear cements the fact that my grandmother was and is a motherfucking force to be reckoned with, alive or dead.

5. 7/58 High St, Randwick, NSW

I moved to Sydney! Why? I don’t know! My partner was doing a degree at UNSW and I went with him because I was 21 and couldn’t stand my parents any longer so I buggered off. Now. This apartment was a second floor walk-up in a WW1 era building opposite a hospital and BEHIND a Coles loading dock. Plus there was a screaming autistic Arabian child downstairs and the loudest dog you’ve ever heard next door. Serene. Peaceful. Damaging to the psyche. We lived with my partners brother which was fine, but that place not only had no heating nor ceiling fans it also had no flyscreens. I didn’t even have my own set of keys. I shared ONE set of keys with my partner for two years. Fucking ridiculous. Yes, the food nearby was good. Yes, I commuted back to Newcastle most weekends to keep my casual job. Yes the neighbours were fascinating, ranging from the American guy across the way who never ever closed his bathroom window and gave me many shows of his frankly monstrous penis, to the chainsmoking nurse below who had a permanent frown despite living across the street from her work, to the Koreans downstairs who constantly cooked delicious barbecue while pretending to not speak English, to the gorgeous gay couple who lived above us who could add a new synonym to the dictionary to define “unfriendly”. We got out just before the new light rail was to begin construction right outside our building, but regardless, because of all the noise that surrounded that place before that, I now can sleep through the sound of a fucking jet engine roaring right next to my face.

6. 145 Wilson St, Carrington, NSW

Back to Newy! Okay so this was the first house we even Googled when looking for a new place back in Newcastle, and weirdly, we got it!. It was a tiny cottage in a harbourside suburb that was across the the street from wheat silos that are literally the size of Windsor castle. The day we moved in, a representative of the Port Authority knocked on our door and told us that if we ever heard a particular siren, that it meant the silos were on fire and an explosion was imminent and that we would have about 10 minutes to evacuate before half the city was Hiroshima-ed. Lovely welcome. We heard that siren (or a siren at least) about 50 times in the 2 years we were there. Pretty alarming, as it were. Anyway, the house was literally 3 rooms and a kitchen, 2 tiny cubicle afterthought bathrooms, and a nice big back deck. Now I was happy there, it had everything I needed, it was pleasant. I had a good garden going and I really learned to cook there. Carrington is where my family is originally from, and it was easy to walk everywhere and I loved the history of it. However, our landlord was a Chinese lady called Winnie who could not have misunderstood the concept of landlord responsibilities less. Any repairs or things we needed, she was not just unavailable but actively apathetic. It was like pulling teeth to get her to even communicate to the property manager in even basic English in regards to anything we required. Our neighbours on one side were a lovely couple with 2 babies but they had a dog called Trippi that would bark whenever someone in the opposite hemisphere coughed, and on the other side were a couple in their 70′s who were both suffering dementia, constantly screaming at each other and who also had two elderly dogs that would bark whenever someone nearby inhaled. For two years I heard literally nothing except Matt’s piano, Trippi barking, the other dogs barking, the neighbours angrily SCREAMING at one another, wheat silo alarms, screeching train tracks and coal tankers blasting their horns as they entered the harbour. Again, seasoned professional, can sleep through anything.

7. 46 Garden Grove Pde, Adamstown Heights, NSW

Alright, so two friends of mine, also a couple, were living in a tiny half house situation and also wanted out of their place, so we decided to all move in together, into a place that was much larger and that we could all collectively afford. So we found this lovely large house with 4+ bedrooms so that we could all have our own space and get on rather well. And it worked out! My partner and I had a great big bedroom, Matt had his own study, we had a library, a music room, and my friends had an enormous bedroom downstairs plus a huge bathroom/laundry AND there was 3 tiers of yard that we grew all sorts of vegetables in, plus it had a driveway that looped around (I would call it a plantation driveway?) so heaps of space for everyone. It was great, plenty of space for guests which we had a lot of, plenty of outdoor areas for entertaining, it was wonderful. But unfortunately my friends relationship ended and an old friend took one of their places for a year (also fine) but eventually it turned out that the place was getting sold and after literally months of surprise inspections and open houses we’d all had enough and decided to move out separately. Now this so far has been my favourite place. It was 10 minutes to work, everyone had their own space and we lived, I think, pretty well harmoniously together. But nothing good lasts so now...!\

8. *** Kings Rd, New Lambton, NSW

From Queens Rd to Kings Rd! We found a gorgeous house right near a train station that I am currently in and pretty happy with. For the first time I have ceiling fans again plus air con and FOUR bedrooms that I barely know what to do with. Currently I’m sitting in my study surrounded by all my books with the fan on typing this out and it feels good to have my own space for a change and actually have trouble furnishing a house as opposed to making concessions about what I keep and what I can’t. I’ve planted a veggie garden, I have my kitchen the way I want, and the house has been renovated, re-carpeted, painted and made livable for a modern couple. We have spare space for guests (or a spare room for me when I don’t want to wake up Matt when I go to bed at 3am, but that’s the sleep pattern of a shift worker) and overall I feel good about it. Finally. I’ve been looking for a good home to just COME HOME to for ages and for a long time I haven’t really felt that. My last home was lovely, but honestly 3 tiers of gardens to maintain and roommates (though they remain dear friends) are just not what I want to deal with anymore. Actually not even that, I’d be fine with roommates, but it’s just nice to feel like I have MY house and it’s mine to come home to.

Anyway, apologies for this long post, and I know barely anyone will read it, but I started this blog TEN years ago so and I don’t have a print journal to write all of this stuff in, so I might as well talk here. HOUSES! If they’re not haunted, then where’s the drama we so desperately crave?

[gotatext]

          whats up ! its ur local feral goblin nora ( 23, she/her, gmt ) bringing u yet another baby i dug out of the trash and vomited onto the dashboard. a fake psychic slash rodeo bull sensation studying at hendrix but born in marfa, texas. luvs wearing gingham print dresses and cowboy boots n always in loads of rings and necklaces w flowers in her hair. very into art and pornography, and particularly the combination of the two. wants to do a PHD on gender studies and female autonomy in porn (yeehaw!). this is a pinterest board. without further ado, here’s frida !

hendrix template.

( cis-female ) haven’t seen FRIDA CALHOUN around in a while. the ELIZA SCANLEN lookalike has been known to be (+) SCHOLASTIC & (+) PLUCKY, but SHE can also be (-) DOGMATIC & (-) SINGLE-MINDED. The 18 year old is a FRESHMAN majoring in GENDER STUDIES & VISUAL ART. I believe they’re living in AUDAX, but I popped by earlier and no one answered the door. ( nora. 22. cowboy time. she/her. ) 

 aesthetics.

a red gingham print dress from your childhood that tugs at the seams and hitches at your thighs. brown cowboy boots still thick with the dirt of a marfa desert. stripper heels decorated with hello kitty stickers. a crystal ball you bought for a dollar from a one-eyed woman at a thrift store. dead flowers clinging to the braids of your hair. a rucksack permanently packed for the move. a streak of red across your lips. roller blades, cut knees, not eating your greens. smiling with a mouthful of blood. the female orgasm cut and pasted from pornhub and superimposed onto renaissance art. sweet wrappers scattered over the vinyl seats of an older man’s car. also this pic here is a big frida mood

connection to eva & did they choose her name during the watershed?

study abroad mentor. when frida moved to the netherlands to study, she was assigned a mentor to help her settle into campus life, since she was not of dutch heritage. eva was her mentor for her first few weeks of study, though they weren’t really friends. occasionally they hung out if they saw each other out at night, but they weren’t like... super close.

ok,.... so first up ! despite going to uni in amsterdam, this gal was born and raised in the ole’ U.S of A. she’s from marfa, texas. it’s a very arty place. she was surrounded by art wankers as a child and it kind of educated her to a lot of shit, but also meant she grew up p fast?? like she learned about sex and death and violence from all these art people who thot they were Freeing her Superego n makin a genius child bt rlly.... they shd hav just let her play with dirt rather than showin her artistic representations of the inside of a dead bird.

 BACKSTORY TIME.. her mother was from the wrong side of the tracks, wanted 2 go to art school and started working as an erotic dancer to pay for college but then jst.... ended up staying there. one of those girls u see in the documentaries who had Big Plans but ultimately never got to pursue them n jst got.... sucked in by the money

 frida was raised in dressing rooms surrounded by sparkly costumes and nipple pasties and leotards and the like. as a kid she’d try to trot about in her moms heels n yearned for the day she’d be able to be on stage. 

if you’ve seen pretty baby its a bit similar to tht..... her mom works in a brothel n has her quite young n the expectation is her daughter will probs end up working at the brothel too when she's old enough. no1 really expected frida to get into a good uni or anythin

frida was p much raised by the town, to be honest. most of her youth was spent scurrying about half naked in cowboy boots and glasses too big for her face. a smol feral child

as a kid used to lie about being able to see dead people bcos she thought it’d make her seem cool and interesting to other kids n it got the attention of the girls her mom worked with. but when her mom realised people were willing to actually believe a 7 year old had seen their dead scorned lover, she saw it as an opportunity to swindle some extra cash and registered her as a child psychic n started putting adds out in local papers for palm readings and tarot predictions. 

when her mom hit 30s she couldn't hack being a sex worker any more, so she set up her own fortune telling business and hired a load of the girls from the club to be fake psychics. it was sort of a fortune telling parlour slash brothel, bt they kept tht very under wraps. palm reading upstairs, handjobs downstairs. the reason why some of the women from the strip club agreed to work there was because it was a business actually run by a woman who got what was going on, n not jst someone trying to make quick cash out of old men wanking

as a child, frida was on a few tv shows in the netherlands  making psychic predictions in front of live tv audiences and attempting to reach out to the spirits of their loved ones. this con continued into her teenage years, she even did youtube videos n had minor success, though she was accused of being a cheap horoscope predicter and packed it in shortly after a twitter backlash. 

if pressed, frida still claims to have a gift, but that it's not as simple as switching a light on and off, it comes when it comes, you can't summon it, and that's how she gets out of being labelled a fraud if anyone who recognises her demands a reading.

ws street smart, but also did super well at school? quite charming as a kid and good at winning adults over because of a life growing up basically conning rich white women out of their money just by telling them stuff they wanted to hear. was moved up a grade in junior high and graduated early. attended a summer school, before choosing to study in amsterdam because of the appeal of the red light district. very interested in the lives of sex workers and the way they express themselves. is only a freshman but, is like, 50% through her degree already jst cos she’s..... super passionate about her subject getting recognised as a legitimate brand of academia

she wanted to study gender performativity in the lives of sex workers and plans to do her thesis on the porn industry. it might be because of her childhood, growing up surrounded by sex workers, but she's obsessed with it, looks at mathematical structures and symbols in porn through a lens of politics and art history. very interested in visual art.

some ?mildly amusing? facts

owns 4 tarot decks and a crystal ball she bought frm an old lady with one eye

favourite drink is cherry coke

part of a burlesque collective at hendrix university who run speakeasy nights. is trying to set up her own small-scale grassroots burlesque group in one of the more mainstream clubs along the strip bcos there’s so much money and female tourists go wild 4 it

sells nudes on twitter. whenever she gets low on cash she contacts one of the seedy old men who used to visit her mom's club to venmo her $500 in return for pictures

that girl who’s always harping on about body positivity on instagram while wearing cute underwear and looking absolutely bomb 

really good at rodeo bull riding. the club in marfa had one so as a youth she got really good at it bcos she was constantly tryin to outdo her friends on who could stay on for the longest. a video of her staying on one for like 4 minutes after downing several jager bombs went viral once.

smol baby. 5′4. wears a lot of cute summer dresses n big boots. gingham is her usual dress style, or like red plaid, n then she’ll either have big white cowboy boots with spokes on the back or the really long doc martens. also owns a lot of abba-esque gogo boots and 90s creepers. flats?? who are they. has her hair in braids a lot, and usually has flowers or feathers threaded through it to add to her whole “mystic” vibe

micro-doses acid for mild depression bcos she didn’t believe in “that CBT bullshit”, thought that therapists, like her, were jst con artists so always a bit spaced out

her flirting technique is absolutely offering to read your palm. she used to do it all the time at school its how she met most of her eighth grade boyfriends. 

volunteers at one of the local galleries but mostly just rants to old white dutch men about how cis white men have dominated art for years :/ is one of those SJW-types but only?? when it comes to art?? 

has a pet rat called popeye

takes photographs of dead animals to use in her art and often posts them side-by-side with stills of women in porn to show the shelf-life of female sex workers in a patriarchal-dominated industry or some bullshit idk

big into spoken word poetry, even if its shit. likes savage depictions of femininity

wrote a thesis on art as an act of masturbation that got published 

big into capitalism and commodity culture. loves it.

wanted plots, fucker

ppl who are also studying @ hendrix but speak english !! bcos frida finished her exams a year early at like 17 n just up and left to amsterdam cos she knew if she got in-state tuition she’d never leave texas, she came to the netherlands with like, 40 dollars and a phrase book. eva was kind of her study-abroad mentor to help her settle into amsterdam campus life

ppl she met at an inter-school maths championship competition or something really fuckin nerdy like that. she probably got entered in a spelling bee or two, she was her high school’s pride and joy until people started calling her a slut in toilet door grafiti 

hook-ups !! frida does not do relationships, she had several girlfriends as a kid but she enjoyed the thrill of the chase more than being with one person. pan, but not about befriending straight men. very much fuck-em-and-chuck-em wham-bam-thankyou-ma’am when it comes to guys. that said, if u think ur character cld get under her skin n try n change that by all means be my guest

other ppl who wld be in burlesque with her. also she goes to strip clubs n peep shows like every day, thats basically research for her, so if ur characters would be into strip clubs they might see her there

she volunteers at a few galleries, tht is also a possible place where they cld kno each other from

i feel like she’d be on student council if they had one of those. shes that kind of bitch, turning up like elle woods with a big feather pen or a light-up heart marker, slamming down some truths before upping and leaving to go for her 11am chai latte break

mayb someone she’s trying to coach into being more body confident through self-expression in burlesque.

som1 who attended the art institute in marfa for a summer n maybe knew her when she was a bit younger ??? idk

drama. angst/ horror. someone accuse her of being a fake psychic and she’ll predict your horrific untimely death

nice bike rides in amsterdam please

yea like this if u a) want to plot or b) think the self is as undefinable social construct and i will slide in ur dms to further discus ruckus  x x

[trashyazeohane]

Okay, I need to write more. Arghh… I know a big moment is coming, but I don’t know how to get to it.

Part 1 can be found here!

Adult!Maxvid!AU - Part 10 (David is dumb af + Max finally confesses!):

Max felt kinda weird knowing that Gwen knew about his… well his heavy crush on David.

But it didn’t look like the woman told David, so Max hoped that it would stay this way.

(Though he knew that Gwen could be evil when she wanted to, so yeah, Max decided to be on a lookout. Just to be sure!

Yet telling Gwen the truth put some kind of… formal and real meaning to his feelings. Like there was no turning back now (not that he wanted to). It made him notice that the situation was real, that it was happening and that he really, really liked David.

(That his feeling grew to this point he couldn’t ignore them. No, he wanted to fulfill them, to make himself complete.)

He still talked a lot with David. Max went over to him a few times a week – to chat a little bit, to help with making dinner or just to kill his time.

Max slowly started to love the old radio standing in the kitchen, always playing a tune – old, new, it didn’t matter, it only seemed that David needed to be enveloped in music to function properly. Max started to adore the peacefulness seeping from every plant inside the living room. Max started to like the soft ticks and tocks of the clock, marking the passing time he spent with David.

Max loved David’s house. Maybe not the whole material thing, but the atmosphere in it.

���What are smiling about?” David asked, flopping down on his seat, but not before passing Max a cup of coffee.

Was Max smiling? Shit.

“Nothing.” Max mumbled, trying to brush away the grin from his mouth, but probably failing miserably.

David only hummed, but didn’t push that topic. Yet he looked weirdly content with himself.

And like that passed a week and another two. Winter turned to spring, slowly even hinting towards summer.

Max found out that he liked being nice to David. Max liked seeing David smile, he liked seeing David’s eyes shimmering with mirth, he liked seeing David lightening up whenever Max did something. Of course Max couldn’t stop himself from jabbing something into David’s consciousness sometimes. But he just liked seeing the man riling up about it. It was kinda adorable.

But he still didn’t move forward, what was once pointed out by Gwen in a message she sent him.

Are you actually planning to do anything?

Max wanted to do something, to step forward, but he didn’t know… what or how?

He felt like it has to be something big, or like it has to happen during a special day, maybe with special atmosphere. So Max waited – waited for a perfect day, waited for an ideal atmosphere, waiter for a hinted moment when he could actually do something.

But life didn’t work this way. There weren’t any perfect moments. Life was moving forward, hinting to, urging him to step closer. Because time was passing and Max already waited enough.

Wasn’t it finally time to move? To do something? What Max had to lose? David’s friendship – which was a lot. And he didn’t want to lose that. But he could gain even more.

“David is pretty erm… blind when it comes to noticing things, so I don’t know Max. I feel like you should be pretty straightforward with him.” Nikki said, twirling a pen in her fingers as she tried to finish the exercises she should have done a long time ago.

Max let out an uncoherent sound and slumped further on the floor. The worst was the fact that she was right. And damn, Max knew it.

The girl glanced at him.

“Well you had sex, how hard can it be to actually say that you like him?”

Really fucking hard.

“I mean, if you are going to wait, then he will probably eventually find someone else.”

Which was also true. David had partners before, he could have them in the future. Just because he was single now, it didn’t mean things couldn’t change.

(Not that Max knew about any of David’s love interests nowadays… and Max hoped that he would know that.)

No, Max had to act.

Which brought him to the problem of the perfect moment.

But damn he tried.

“David?” Max started, already feeling his throat closing.

“Yes, Max?” The man turned to him and stopped swirling the wooden spoon inside the pot.

Max felt like his heart could jump out of his chest. Like he could faint any second now. Like there was a storm inside his guts.

And David stared at him so expectantly, so curiously, that it made the situation even worse.

Those were only three short words. Eight letters. Nothing more, nothing less, so why couldn’t he let them out?

“The soup is boiling.” Shit!

“Oh!” David twitched and returned his gaze to the soup.

Max failed spectacularly.

For a moment he thought about writing it via message, but there was something wrong in it. Plus David probably wouldn’t get him, so Max had to be really honest and straightforward with his feelings.

Even thought it was hard.

Another day, another try.

“David?” Max started again, throwing the backpack over his shoulders.

“Hm?” The man tilted his head.

Max brushed his fingers together, turned to him, lifted his head to stare right into David’s eyes and then… couldn’t say anything more. His throat closed and there was a sudden, vast emptiness roaming inside his mind.

“Everything’s alright?’ David asked, stepping closer.

Max quickly shook his head. Damn, that was embarrassing.

“Y-yeah…” Did he actually stutter? Oh my God. “Take care of yourself.”

“Sure will!” Oh, there was this blinding smile, taking his breath away.

And because Max couldn’t say anything more, he stepped out and started to walk back to his dorm.

Only when he was a good few streets away he covered his face with his hands and whined loudly, startling an old lady who was passing him.

So Max tried a few more times to confess. Approximately sixteen times. If Nikki counted right.

(She had to write somewhere down how many times Max had failed.)

Then there was this one day when Max went to a supermarket with David – because hell yeah, he wasn’t going to drag all those bags back as he could use David’s car. Lucky!

And it was a more or less normal day, filled with Max pushing the shopping cart after David as the man was ticking off things on his list. That dork. Max simply grabbed whatever he wanted when he was passing different aisles.

It was a pleasant afternoon. Max decided not to think about tons and tons of homework, reports and exercises he still had to finish back at his dorm. Well the leisurely atmosphere of course had to end when the cashier who was attending to them started clearly flirting with David.

What the fuck?

And David, that stupid little fuck, was obvious to everything and answered all her question with the brightest of smiles.

Max felt like burning – but probably the woman behind the cash register. He felt that he was slowly starting to fume with anger and pain as they quickly conversed back and forth.

The woman (how old could she even be? Older than Max, maybe not by much, but definitely younger than David) grinned at him. Then she took David’s receipt and wrote something very quick at the back, before giving it to him.

What, what, what, what!? What the fuck!?

David thanked her in that always cheerful tone and put the receipt in one of his many bags.

After that the cashier scanned Max’s items, without that happy tone to her voice. Max didn’t mind, actually he felt like he could strangle her.

He dropped the money purposely on the counter so she had to reach for it and collect it herself. Man, he knew he shouldn’t act like that, but he couldn’t stop himself. He was really angry.

He quickly pocketed the change and didn’t even answer her as he moved away from the cash register, holding bags in both of his hands.

They packed their things into David’s car and hopped in. Max closed the door with too much force, but quickly mumbled a ‘sorry’.

For the whole ride home Max didn’t utter a word, and only listened to David humming in tune to some song playing on a radio. When they reached the dorm, he grabbed his things, thanked David and moved to his room.

He spent the rest of the day furiously trying to do his homework and a lot of other things he had to do, while thinking whether David already found the receipt with the phone number or not. He somehow managed to do the things he was supposed to do and then moved to lay down on his bed and sulk while staring at the ceiling.

Fuck, maybe they had already planned a date? Maybe they were talking right now!? Maybe she was already on her way –

No, no, no. This couldn’t be true.

Yet Max couldn’t stop his mind from feeling the jealously sparkling to life in his temples whenever he thought about her. She probably was a nice person – she hadn’t even been mean to Max when he clearly had been hostile towards her – but he simply couldn’t stop himself from hating her.

The night wasn’t quite good. During the next day he more or less managed to forget about the shop incident, but it came back when David wrote to him to ask if he wanted to come over for dinner.

Hell yeah.

Max grabbed his laptop, because he had to finish a paper for classes, and walked to David’s house.

They were in the middle of making the dinner, when Max found out that he couldn’t actually stop himself from asking some questions.

“So did you call back that cashier?”

David stopped mixing spices with the cream and glanced at Max.

“What cashier?” He asked.

Max looked at him.

David looked completely lost, eyes open wide with eyebrows raised high on his forehead.

“You know…” Max started and then cut another thin slice of paprika. “The one that gave you probably her number on the receipt?”

David still stared at him.

Max only now slowly connected the dots.

“You have to be shitting me. You didn’t notice she was flirting with you?”

“She was doing what?”

Max facepalmed himself. Seriously.

“David, seriously, you really didn’t notice? She even wrote her number on the back of the receipt!”

“How do you even know that?” David asked.

“Because I saw her doing so, before she gave it to you.” Max groaned and then moved his hand down, glancing at the man. “Dude… seriously?”

“I threw it away! I didn’t know something was written there.” David mumbled, glancing away, suddenly looking really ashamed of himself. He started to stir the cream once again. “But it doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t call her anyway.”

This… this took Max by a surprise.

(And also lifted a heavy burden from his chest, phew.)

“You wouldn’t?” Max asked.

“No.” David said and then looked up at him. “I mean why should I?”

“Uhhh you are not interested in her?”

“Not really.” David said. “Should I be?” He asked, tilting his head.

“Why are you asking me?” Max continued, grabbing the knife and returning to cutting the vegetable.

“Because you sound like you want me to call her.”

“I don’t.”

FUCK! Max didn’t bite his tongue in time and let the words slip past his lips.

He more or less heard David stopping mixing the ingredients, than actually saw him doing so.

“O-oh…” David mumbled and Max tried really hard not to crush the paprika he was holding.  There was a sudden pause before David added, hinting on a joking tone that sounded terribly strained. “Are you perhaps jealous?”

“David, I’m holding a knife.” Max said, as robotically as he could, stealing only one glance at David’s hesitant face. “Are you really sure you want to ask this question?”

“Uh sorry.” David quickly said.

Max couldn’t stop the small snort from escaping his mouth.

They finished preparing the dinner and then ate it in the living room. After it Max sat on the couch and put the laptop on his lap to do a report. David washed the dishes.

“Do you mind if I sit next to you? The light is better here.”

“David it’s your own goddamn house. You can sit wherever you want.”

“I know.” And with that David sat down on the couch and brought his legs closer and started to read a book.

Max worked on his report mostly in silence, accompanied by the rain pattering softly outside and the sounds of turning pages. There were a few thunders after the warm wind had mixed with the cold front.

It took him at least two hours to more or less finish the task.

“You want something to drink?”

“Beer would be nice.” Max mumbled.

“Something without alcohol in it?”

“Coffee.”

“Will you be able to sleep through the night after it?” David asked, closing the book and putting it away on the coffee table.

“Hopefully.”

David hummed under his nose and stood up.

Max managed to let out a deep exhale as he stopped feeling and smelling David so close to him. Maybe he would do the report faster if David had sat on a different seat, but actually Max had been extra happy he had sat next to him.

He was correcting a few mistakes in his report when David sat down next to him again – way, way too close – and passed him a cup.

“What are you working on?” He asked, leaning in front of Max to peek at the screen.

“Report from Metrology labs.” Max mumbled, grabbing the cup and sniffing it. So hot cocoa it was. Not surprising.

Actually Max didn’t mind it.

The rain poured softly outside, with the sparks of lightning sometimes shimmering in the background. Shit, he didn’t have his umbrella and he didn’t want to wet his laptop.

“It sounds… nice.” David mumbled, looking at the long, long calculations on the screen.

“Yeah, it’s boring as fuck.”

“Language.”

“I’m an adult, David. I can swear whenever I want.”

David opened his mouth to retort something, but then closed it and took a mug closer to his lips, taking a small hesitant sip after that.

“Yeah, you are.” He finally mumbled, moving the cup away.

Max saved the file and then closed the laptop to put it away on the coffee table. He put his one leg on the couch and turned to David.

“Is it so hard to believe?”

“I mean, I know that. I think it’s just hard for me to… you know…”

“Change your perspective?” Max proposed, lifting his eyebrow and taking a sip. Sweet. Too sweet for his liking.

“Kinda?” David nodded and then crossed his legs.  “I’ve known you since you were ten and look at you right now!” He said and then waved his hand, pointing at Max.

“I see a fuck-up.” Max said, glancing at himself just to prove his point.

“And I see a very talented and handsome young student.” David said, darting his head upwards and closing his eyes.

Max snorted.

“Yeah, right.”

“It’s true.”

Max opened his one eye and glanced at David.

“You think I’m handsome?” He asked, cocking his head to the side.

He asked this question just to mess with David, just to rile him up, but he didn’t expect the man to blush furiously and hide his mouth behind his mug.

“I mean…” David started and then looked to the side, which made Max chuckle. “… you are really good looking.”

“Are you saying that to lift up my spirits or do you really think that?” Max asked, smirking at him.

David looked up at him and then exhaled slowly through his nose, moving the mug away.

“It depends whether you are willing to believe me and know the truth or you only want to mess with me.”

“Touché.” Max mumbled. “But the first option.”

Because he really was curious if David really meant that.

“You are good looking, Max.” David said, looking away for a brief moment, the pure redness overpowering his cheeks.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“That was a compliment.”

Max hummed and took a sip of the hot cocoa.

There was a brief moment of silence where they drank and listened to the rain softly playing a song outside the windows. A quite loud thunder made the light bulbs inside David’s house flicker, but it looked like the man didn’t even notice it.

Max swirled the insides softly, feeling a sudden urge, a sudden need to let everything out. The thoughts were twirling inside his mind, urging him, pleading him, threating him to just spill the truth.

Maybe it wasn’t the best moment, but there were no specific perfect moments in life. People made perfect moments.

Do it, do it, do it. He couldn’t wait more. He didn’t want to wait more. He wanted to be able to reach forward and grab David’s hand, to be able to interlace his fingers with his, to be able to move and hug him.

Max waited long enough. He lived through enough. And he was sick of it. He wanted to do something.

He wanted–

He was already opening his mouth, feeling the words slipping through his lips when David’s spoke.

“I assume you have quite a few admirers.”

At that Max had to snort loudly, almost spilling the hot beverage everywhere.

“David, this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard coming from your mouth.”

David looked up at him and put the cup away.

“I’m sure it’s true.” The man mumbled.

“Pff then they chose terribly.”

“I don’t think they chose terribly.” David said, tilting his head. “You are a good person, Max.”

Here! David could simply throw a bomb at him like it was nothing! And those kind of things which happened from time to time made Max hope for more, made him think that he could have a chance.

“Even if they chose more or less okay… with which I’m not agreeing… They still have no chance.”

“Why?” David moved closer on the couch, touching Max’s leg with his knee.

Okay. Max was going to jump into the pit. One, two three –

“Because there is someone I already like.”

A heartbeat of silence.

David’s hand twitched and then suddenly he was invading Max’s personal space, getting way to close to his face with a smile stretching over his lips.

(Yet maybe it was only Max’s imagination, but it didn’t fully feel… happy.)

“Oh, oh that is amazing! Who is this person? Do I know them? When did you first feel something towards them? Oh, do they know!?” David shot question after question, moving, inching closer with every bullet thrown at Max.

Max swallowed hard, smelling David’s shampoo as he moved so close to him. Hesitantly he put the cup away.

Should he answer David? Wait, no, he wanted to tell him. He needed to tell him.

“It is a very kind person and… uhm… you know them.” Max said. Was it right to say? Well David did know himself. “Eh... I noticed it quite some time ago and no, they don’t know.” Shit, his hands were shaking so hard he had to grip the material of his jeans.

A lonely lightning sparkled in the sky and the soft drizzle turned into a heavy rain, pittering and pattering loudly on the window.

“Is it Nikki?” David asked.

“What!? No!” It wasn’t like Nikki wasn’t cute or kind. Max liked her, just not in that way.

“Neil?”

“No?” Okaaaay…

“Preston?”

“Fuck no!”

“Ered? The other Neil? Nurf?”

“Now you are just spluttering random names of people we both know.” Max said and turned to David.

“That’s because I was sure the first answer would be correct.” David pouted.

“You were way off.” Max stated, smirking at the man.

“I couldn’t be that off. We don’t have that many same friends.”

“But you were.”

“Just tell me!”

“Why?” Max inquired.

The light bulbs above them flickered once again when a thunder resonated in the air.

“Because I’m asking pretty nicely?” David smiled and moved even closer.

“And that is enough of a reason?”

“I definitely hope so.”

Max huffed and looked down.

How should he say it? How should he tell the truth? How should he pour out his so long hidden heart? Every sentence and word didn’t seem correct in this situation. Should he simply say it straightforward or maybe play a game?

“I mean, if you really don’t want to tell me, then I’m okay with that…” David suddenly mumbled, looking down at the small space of couch between them.

Max sighed, feeling his heart jumping high in his throat.

“Do you really want to know?”

“I mean, kinda. But if you don’t want to tell me, then you don’t have to.”

Okay, okay, okay. Max can do it. He slowly reached forward, inch after an inch, and then hooked his fingers under David’s palm.

David’s hand was warm.

The man glanced down, sorta surprised, and then quickly looked back at Max.

“I mean, I kinda want to, but… it’s hard for me to say it…”

“Max?”

“But I want to tell you that… it’s just… it has been so long… and I…. argh… I mean… fuck it…”

Okay, no, Max had enough. Max wanted it.

So he did the only thing his brain was urging him and proposing to do. He slowly leaned closer, put his other hand on David’s cheek, endearingly caressing the skin there, and softly pecked David’s lips.

It wasn’t much. It wasn’t a full kiss, filled with mouths and tongues mingling together. It was only a soft touch of lips, brought together for a short moment. It was a mere touch, but it still made Max shiver with excitement running suddenly through his veins.

It lasted for three seconds at best before Max slowly moved away to stare in David’s wide eyes.

Max could only stare back, hearing the buzzing sound inside his skull. It was pounding and knocking and drumming and thrumming so loud that Max felt like he was close to dying.

His heart hammered so loudly and fast inside his ribcage that he was sure the whole world could hear him.

David definitely could.

The man stared back and then slowly swallowed. He wiggled his fingers on the palm held by Max.

“Uhm…” David opened his mouth and slowly licked his lips. Then he blinked, like he only now understood what he had done. “I don’t think I… get you…”

Seriously... Seriously!?

But David really looked lost, like he suddenly floated in between realities and he wasn’t sure which was his and where he should move.

There was no turning back now. Max didn’t want to turn back. It was now or never, and Max didn’t want to pick the second option.

So with heavy heart he put his other hand on David’s palm and gripped it tightly. The man glanced down at their hands with his mouth partially parted and then quickly looked up at Max.

Max swallowed hard.

“David I…” Come on, say it, spit it, shout it. “… I like you.” Man, why was his mouth so dry? “I really like you.”

David looked up at him and with some confusion mumbled:

“I like you too.”

But there was something in David’s gaze that didn’t reach his words. Or no, that was not it. The ‘like’ David meant was not the ‘like’ Max felt.

No, Max can do it. He wanted to do it. So he took a deep breath and:

“I like you more than that, David.”

He felt David’s hand tremble as he gaped at him.

David looked at him, slowly, but deeply inhaling and exhaling.

“I don’t know… how to answer that.”

“Do you like me?”

“I mean, I do, but…” Another hard swallow. “I mean I’m not sure… I don’t know… I’m kinda…”

Okay, was it bad, was it good? Max wasn’t sure.

“You don’t have to… answer me now. Just… think about this.” Me, Max’s mind corrected. “Please…”

“I… I will…” David mumbled.

Max hesitantly smiled and then let go of David’s hand to stand up.

“I– I will be going.”

David moved the hand closer to his chest and looked up at him.

“Oh… okay.”

Max quickly packed his laptop and with a great relief found out that it more or less stopped raining heavily, though the storm was still ruling over the night sky.

He quickly moved to the exit with David slowly following his every step.

“Take care and message me when you’ll get back.”

It was a routine, yet now it sounded totally different.

“Will do.” Max said and then put on his shoes.

He was already reaching to open the door, when the last sparkles of bravery came to life inside his chest. Hanging tightly onto their light, Max turned around and looked at David.

“I spoke the honest truth.” He said.

David blinked and then slowly, very hesitantly nodded.

“I will really… think about it.” David said.

“Thank you.” Max said, feeling as his legs were getting weaker and weaker with every passing second. “G’night.”

“Same to you, Max.”

Max went out, but only managed to move a few meters before the door to David’s house flung open.

“Max, catch!”

Gladly he reached in time to grab a small umbrella.

“You can give it back the next time we’ll meet.”

Maybe it wasn’t much, but it still made Max’s chest swell with something dizzyingly warm.

“I will sell it on the internet!”

“Max!”

“Bye!”

And with that Max quickly walked away.

Of course he wasn’t able to sleep after that, so in the end he woke up Nikki and told her everything.

(Back to David ->)

Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay this was definitely… definitely strange. David didn’t expect that. No, he definitely didn’t.

He turned on the bed to his other side and tried to fall asleep. But no matter how many times he closed his eyes, the situation from today was still replaying itself in front of his eyes.

Together with the soft touch of foreign lips touching his.

David threw the quilt over his head and curled on the bed.

What to do? What to do? He didn’t expect that kind of an answer? He had been sure he would guess the correct answer on the first try! But he hadn’t done that. And he wasn’t sure what to think about all of this.

Ughh… He rolled over once again on the bed.

On one hand he was kinda terrified and stressed. Terrified of what should he do, what kind of decision would be the best in this situation, what kind of future stood in front of them.

But there was some other part, some slice of his mind and heart that was kinda… happy? It was vibrating with this something warm inside his chest. It was making his heart hammer louder than usual in his ribcage.

The comforting touch of Max’s hand on his own stormed through his head and David snuggled closer into his pillow.

What was wrong with him? Why was he feeling like that? He shouldn’t feel anything toward Max. He was still a…

Max was an adult. Just like him.

Max wasn’t a kid anymore. He was an adult.

But it was so hard for David to switch, to see Max as something more than a kid at the camp. Even though he knew it wasn’t true anymore. Max was an adult – he was conscious of his decisions and choices.

Though they both had made very bad choices in the past.

When did it all start? After the night? Before it? How come David never noticed it? Was he so blind, just as Gwen always told him? Did she know?

David grabbed his phone, but then only held it in his palms. No, it was too late to call her. He can do it… tomorrow.

David fell asleep feeling a delicate touch on his lips.

During the next day he couldn’t fully focus on his tasks for the first two or so hours. The memories were still vivid inside his brain, but when the kids looked at him hopefully, he brushed the memories aside and focused on his work.

Only when he was back home, he felt everything crashing down on him with a few messaged from Max to which he didn’t respond. He wrote quick several responses and then flopped down on the couch.

Should he call Gwen? She always was better in this type of things and especially giving David good advices.

But won’t Max be mad that he told her? No, well, he wasn’t sure, but he knew that he wasn’t able to solve it by himself.

So he wrote a quick message to Gwen, asking if she could come over for a bit. And Gwen of course answered after fifteen minutes.

be there in twenty min...

So David waited. And waited. And waited. Reliving those memories once again inside his brain.

Gwen was late as always, but when she stepped inside she immediately moved to the electric kettle.

“Chamomile tea, now!”

David nervously stood there, in the living room, while observing as the woman moved around the kitchen, making a drink for herself. When he found out he had nothing to do, he sat down at the table and waited.

Gwen put one cup filled with tea in front of David and another one she held in her hand as she leaned with her back on the counter.

“So, what is troubling your mind?”

Oh, it was happening. It really was. But he had called Gwen here so she could help him, so David had to say the truth.

He inhaled deeply and gathered the last particles of bravery.

“I think… Max confessed to me.” He whispered.

“Well, good for the kid. It took him some time.” Gwen said and then took a sip.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, you knew?” David shrieked, staring at the girl. “For how long!?”

“Not for long, but I suspected something before it.” Gwen stated. “I mean when you think about it, Max is pretty obvious.”

David still couldn’t believe it.

“But…”

“No butts. Tell me exactly what happened.”

So David did. Gwen listened intently to his every word, drinking slowly tea from her cup and nodding occasionally. When David finished, she sighed and sat down.

“I’m not sure why you need me here.” She finally stated. “I mean, he asked you out. You need to decide if you want to do it.”

“I know, but I don’t know what to do.” David admitted.

“I mean, this is a pretty simple question. Either you want it or not.”

David groaned and laid his face down on the table.

“It’s not so easy.”

For him there were a lot of obstacles on the way. A lot of differences that had to be conquered. A lot of problems that had to be solved. A lot of hidden uncertainty that needed to be disintegrated.

Age gap was one thing, but very important for David. He was too old for Max – he still had a bright future in front of him. And David didn’t want to tie him down to someone like him.

Max was young, he still could fine someone better.

“I mean… I think you are thinking too hard about this. Either he makes you happy or not. It’s as simple as that.”

Did Max make him happy? He actually… did. When Max was around David didn’t feel lonely, he didn’t feel like a mistake, he didn’t feel like he should behave different or try to be someone else. Max made him feel comfortable.

He really made him happy.

“There are no relationships without problems. There are no ideal pairs. There will always be obstacles on the way.” Gwen said, turning to him. “I can’t decide for you. You need to make this choice. I’m just advising you to do what your heart tells you to do.”

What was his heart telling him to do?

David’s heart was really, really frightened. But there was a very warmth part, a part that was growing and beating like crazy.

On one hand he wanted to. But on the other, there were so many things that could go wrong and he didn’t want to mess that up.

“David, sometimes you just have to try and throw every caution to the wind.” Gwen said, but then she chuckled under her nose. “I never thought I would be giving you advices whether you should date Max or not.”

David looked at her and let out a soft snort too.

“Yeah, I didn’t expect it either.”

“Just… don’t make him wait for too long.”

David nodded. Yes, he couldn’t do that. There was nothing worse than having to wait.

But he still needed some time to think.

David spent the evening and the whole another day thinking. He was still messaging with Max, but now as he did so, he tried to understand the emotions swirling through his body. And he came to a few conclusions.

One of which was the fact that spending time with Max was making him really happy. Like incredibly happy. And he didn’t feel this kind of warmness since… well since his last boyfriend. And he really loved it – loved having someone with whom he could talk openly.

Max made him feel good. He made him feel safe.

So holding onto that feelings, David grabbed the phone and wrote a quick message.

Max, we need to talk.

And this is the end for now. Stay tuned for the next partttttt =D!

[justnarry]

This One's for You

"So uh, to be honest im quite nervous for tonight as well" Niall scratches the back of his head and smiles down at his shoes "Got a special lady to come out and see me,"

Warnings: none, just a fluff piece!

"She here yet?" Niall says as he struggles to catch his breath from running all the way from his meet and greet to his dressing room.

"Not yet mate, flight's delayed remember?"

"Fuckin' rain"

His bandmates chuckle at their friend who was clearly missing his girl.

Niall had always had trouble with the long distance parts of his relationships, it was so hard for him to be away from someone he loved. In his past relationships, whenever they weren't together all Niall would feel was frustration and anxiety, like he was always struggling to keep his head above water. But with Y/N, he floats.

"Here," John says encouragingly "cold one?"

"She's gonna miss da show" he says pouting a little "maybe we could delay a little, yeah?" flashing his hopeful blues at his tour manager

"Do you hear them out there? We're gonna have a riot on hands" he says jokingly. But Niall knew his manager was right, he could hear the fans all the way from his dressing room getting louder every minute

"Besides what do you reckon I'd tell em? 'We cant start cause we'd have to have every single audience member here'?"

"We could? Tha' audience member 's kinda my favorite one," Niall says beaming "my little VIP."

"So whipped." Gerry teases and everyone laughs

"Ha ha, sod off will ya?" Niall quips but giggles cause he knew it was true "Such pricks"

"Oi, plane's just landed!" One of Niall's assistants called out into his dressing room and Niall instantly lights up and reaches for his phone

"Going crazy now ! You better get here soon, or else "

He hits send, and rereads his message

"And i miss u"

Send.

"Finally! This popstar's getting whiney" John laughs

"Oh fuck off, 5 minutes til game time lets go lads" Niall says enthusiastically.

He couldn't wait now, in a few moments he'll be in front of thousands of his fans that he adores performing for and he gets to have his y/n to watch him tonight

"Ohh i see. Now you are excited eh, Horan?"

Niall feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, "Bossy! Haha go on stage now, ill see u in a few"

His phone vibrates again, "but yeah ok, i miss u too handsome 😉"

Niall feels his heart swell and he couldn't hide the color going to his cheeks, 24 years old and his cheeks still gets rosy and gives too much away of what he's feeling

Their stage manager knocks on their open door, "Alright lads off to the stage"

"Get it!" Niall shouted.

-------

"Good evening beautiful people!" Niall called out "You ready?" All he could hear was a resounding 'yes', the crowd was loud tonight and he could feel his excitement build up.

As he looks out into the sea of lights and smiles from his adoring fans he cant help but grin as well.

"I know, I am. We're gonna have an amazing time tonight, yeah?"

He loved this little bit of all his shows, conversing with the fans and whatnot. It was his way of making the fans feel that this was an intimate event between them, and if he was being honest right at this moment he was thinking

"A little back and forth, a little delay won't hurt. Y/N just might make it"

"So uh, to be honest im quite nervous for tonight as well" Niall scratches the back of his head and smiles down at his shoes "Got a special lady to come out and see me,"

The arena bursts into screams and a collective 'awww'.

The fans loved Niall and y/n together, they loved the cute pictures they'd see when Niall and y/n went out and about on the streets going to famous city sights, or when they were papped at the airport in their matching pink vans, or the occasional coffee runs getting their favorite Starbucks drinks. They were always interacting with y/n on twitter thanking her for 'boyfriend Niall' content.

"But she's late, that little cheeky chap!" Niall giggled into his microphone and the crowd couldn't help but laugh with him

Suddenly a voice from the audience called, "She's here!" the girl was holding out her phone to Niall.

"Wha'? Really? How'd you know?" Niall getting flustered and excited now.

He bent down to get a look of his fan's phone and a couple of girls screamed as he went closer to them. She showed him y/n's instagram story a couple of minutes ago of a short video of her pulling up to the venue.

"Well what d' ye know!" He giggled and strummed his guitar a couple of times not being able to hide his excitement "Better late than never!"

"Is it alright with ye if we wait around a bit befo' we start the first song?" Niall asked

'YESSS!' the crowd replied

"Tha' best! Absolute best, you guys! Thank you"

Right then he looked to his left and spotted his y/n backstage

"There you are!" Niall giggled waving at his girlfriend

The spotlight was now on y/n, she struggled for a bit at the sudden brightness as she waved back at Niall mouthing a "hey"

"Come say hi, babe! Kept us waitin'!" Niall held out his arm motioning for y/n to come on stage and she did.

He always did stuff like this when she came out to see him, said he always wanted y/n to feel included and just as much part of the show as he was.

"Hey!" Y/n said into her boyfriend's mic

The crowd grew even louder, shouting hello's, hi's and waving back at her.

"Sorry 'm late, rain was crazy." She looked at Niall and smiled for a bit and the crowd lost it "but no more delays now right, bub?"

Niall laughed and just nodded at his girlfriend, too giddy to speak because he just heard his y/n use a pet name for him in front of thousands of people

"Alright, have a good time everyone." Y/n waved again to the crowd as they smiled and waved back.

"Goodluck babe!" Y/n said to Niall out of the mic's range and squeezed the his hand that was holding hers.

"Thanks, pet!" Niall winked.

"Alright, you heard the missus. Let's have a good time yeah?" Niall said into the mic and the arena grew even louder. He started strumming and the back up instruments came in as well now.

As he was about to sing the first words to his first song, he looks over again to y/n backstage and says

"This one's for you, love!"

Masterlist

[maddie-grove]

Bi-Monthly Reading Round-Up: March/April

Playlist

“Rolling in the Deep” by Adele (Ashes to Ashes)

“Born to Be Together” by the Ronettes (A Princess in Theory)

“Am I the Only One” by the Dixie Chicks (That Scandalous Summer) 

“Poker Face” by Lady Gaga (Crooked Hearts)

“Somewhere” from West Side Story (Silk, Swords, and Surrender, particularly The Lady’s Scandalous Night)

“Very, Very, Very Far Away” by Andrew Rose Gregory (Blankets)

“Welcome Home” by Garnett Mimms (Skylark)

“Nobody’s Angel” by Nanci Griffith (The Poisonwood Bible)

“You Can’t Hurry Love” by the Supremes (After the Wedding)

“One in a Million” by the Platters (Tomboy)

Best of the Bi-Month

Blankets by Craig Thompson (2003): In this autobiographical graphic novel, teenage Craig struggles with isolation, faith, and first love in rural Wisconsin. As someone who also grew up in a religious Christian environment (albeit a less intense one) and usually didn’t fit in at school or church, I feel that Thompson beautifully captures the short-sighted yet extremely real unhappiness that can engulf kids in that kind of situation. The love story is told with grace and sensitivity; Raina, his girlfriend, is a fully fleshed out character whose own problems are presented sympathetically without venturing into Sad Girl Portrait territory.

Worst of the Bi-Month

Skylark by Jo Beverley (2004): Widowed Laura Gardeyne, fearful that her deceptively affable brother-in-law will murder her three-year-old son so his own child can inherit the family title, hatches a plot to find a long-lost heir and take the heat off her toddler. To do this, she enlists the help of her old flame Sir Stephen Ball, a prominent politician. The central romance in this Regency is solid, Laura’s off-putting yet very human in-laws are well-drawn, and the kid is adorable. Unfortunately, much of the plot is devoted to a mystery that takes place away from Laura’s interesting in-laws and, let us say, offers a lot to unpack re: race and sexuality in a way that doesn’t speak well of the protagonists or the author. 

Rest of the Bi-Month

After the Wedding by Courtney Milan (2018): Adrian Hunter, son of a black abolitionist and a white duke’s daughter, goes on a mission to help his family, only to wind up married at literal gunpoint to Camilla Worth, a lady turned maltreated housemaid through her own series of unfortunate events. As they work together to annul their marriage and expose the conspiracy that brought it about, Adrian’s general decency and Camilla’s gratitude for any kindness turn into something deeper. I was overjoyed at the prospect of a new Milan historical, and this Victorian-set novel met all my expectations. The plot works on every level: the lovely central romance, the unraveling of the conspiracy, Camilla’s complex emotional arch, Adrian’s changing relationships with his family members, and the intrigue among Camilla’s long-lost siblings. The minor characters are invariably delightful and represent a more realistically diverse England than most historical romances reflect.

The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver (1998): In 1959, the terrifyingly single-minded Reverend Nathan Price takes his nearly defeated wife Orleanna and four daughters--insouciant Rachel, eager-to-please Leah, withdrawn Adah, and toddler Ruth May--on an ill-advised trip to the Belgian Congo, which is on the verge of revolution. The culture shock is massive and exacerbates the family’s every faultline...and that’s before tensions both national and local send them hurtling towards personal tragedy. And then things get really complicated. This is a fascinating book that makes good use of its five narrators and their distinctive voices, although Kingsolver gets a little too heavy-handed towards the end by having multiple characters recap the book’s themes. Even so, I liked the later parts of the book best, because the sisters’ trajectories were so dramatically different.

Ashes to Ashes by Jenny Han and Siobhan Vivian (2014): In the conclusion of the Burn for Burn trilogy, lovestruck Lillia and college-bound Kat try to move on in the wake of a tragic death and their friend/revenge-partner Mary’s sudden disappearance. Soon, though, it becomes clear that the past can’t be buried and also will majorly fuck your shit right up. Although the very end is a little abrupt, this book makes a terrific, explosive end to the series.

Silk, Swords, and Surrender by Jeannie Lin (2016): A lovely sampler of novellas set in Tang Dynasty China, ranging from the lighthearted neighbors-to-lovers story The Touch of Moonlight to the barely averted forbidden-love tragedy of The Lady’s Scandalous Night. The collection also includes a sexy yet dangerous trip to Mongolia (An Illicit Temptation) and a romp between a studious country lad and a streetwise musician (Capturing the Silken Thief). My favorite, though, was The Taming of Mei Lin, a deftly characterized story about a swordswoman who will only marry the man who can defeat her in combat.

That Scandalous Summer by Meredith Duran (2013): Following a cataclysmic argument with his troubled older brother, aristocratic doctor Lord Michael de Grey flees to a sleepy country village, where he encounters Elizabeth Chudderley, a hard-partying widow with secret financial and emotional problems. A thoroughly lovely, if somewhat slow, bucolic romance follows.

A Princess in Theory by Alyssa Cole (2018): Naledi Smith, an epidemiology grad student juggling multiple responsibilities and struggling with abandonment issues from a childhood spent in foster care, dismisses the emails insisting that she’s the lost betrothed of the prince of Thesolo, a small African kingdom. Yet the dashing Prince Thabiso isn’t so willing to give up on his childhood dreams and tracks her down on a trip to New York...only for Naledi to mistake him for a regular guy she’s supposed to supervise at a catering event. This romance is adorable and, with the exception of a rushed (though very clever) conclusion, very well-constructed. Cole expertly balances lighthearted shenanigans, emotional character development, and social commentary.

Crooked Hearts by Patricia Gaffney (1994): Reuben Jones and Grace Russell are both running different cons on the same stagecoach to 1880s San Francisco when the vehicle is robbed, depriving them of the money they so desperately need. After some finagling, the two team up to get their money back from the Chinatown-based criminal organization behind the robbery. This novel is half-great. Gaffney’s protagonists, as usual, are vibrant and multilayered, and their romance honest-to-god sparkles. The main plot, unfortunately, is marred by Orientalism. While Gaffney makes occasional attempts to humanize the Chinese-American characters and point out the pervasive racism they face, the whole thing smacks of Yellow Peril. 

Tomboy by Janelle Reston (2018): Harriet Little, a space-obsessed teenager in the 1950s, tries to figure out how to live her best lesbian life despite her repressive environment and a friends-with-benefits relationship with a selfish classmate. She ultimately finds love with Jackie Auglaize, her sweet  and egalitarian BFF. This is an endearing, if slightly simplistic, F/F romance; Harriet’s discovery of her attraction to girls is beautifully portrayed (and, for me, very relatable), but there’s barely any more plot than what I just described

[robotslenderman]

So hey, I realised I only told a couple of friends of how jury duty last year went, so I’ve copy-pasted (with minor editing) the shenanigans below. Content warning under the cut.

Content warning: the guy was a pedophile who tried to (keyword being “tried”) bait 13YOs into meeting up with him.

Having said that, I walked into this case expecting to be scarred for life and instead the whole thing was so ridiculous, the man was such a loser, the victims were so badass that the jury was like “this guy is a total joke.”

Especially after the fuckboy incident.

The trial ended up being pretty goddamn funny. Mostly thanks to the Crown Prosecutor, who had no fucks to give and was yelled at more than once by the judge for getting really sarcastic.

Here are things I wrote down over the course of jury duty:

The phrase, “Having sex with twelve-year-olds is overrated.”

“John* is now going to read about masturbation.”

That time we accidentally trapped two judges in a supply closet.

The random, partial handprint on the ceiling of the courtroom. Only one other juror ever saw it.

At one point I was exhausted and pretending to read from my folder and closed my eyes for a while. 

Afterwards, our jury officer went “ha ha ha I saw you but you were totally reading, right?”

“HA HA HA WHAT A COINCIDENCE YES I WAS!”

How awesome the victims are. Snips from the logs:

“Want to see a picture of my great penis?”

“What’s so great about it?”

“I love you.”

“Okay.”

“I love you.”

“I don’t.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not some Asian hooker!”

“I’m in love with you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Because you also said that to my sister!”

“I love both of you!”

“[Not amused]”

“Please block me, or I’ll keep wanting to talk to you. Thank you for helping me get over you, Nina*.”

The fact that the accused was trying really hard to be dodgy and creepy by convincing another victim to keep it secret. Meanwhile the victim was just as determined to bring him home and have him meet her family.

“I love you, Audrey*.”

“My name is Adriana*!”

Meanwhile, the face identity the police set up to catch the pedophile was as dumb as a post.

And the accused fell for it.

Then later spent half his time on the stand insisting the fake identity was so dumb that there’s no way he could possibly have thought she was really thirteen.

(No, really, he actually used that as a defence.)

One of the victims had the name of a Mass Effect character.

The “fuckboy” meme.

First conversation after being appointed to the jury, wondering if it’s too late to escape:

“What do you suppose we’d have to do to get kicked off the jury?”

“Come in wearing a badge saying ‘It’s Okay To Say No!’“

“OOOOOHHHHHHHH!!!”

Explanation: the marriage equality vote was going on at this time and the “No” campaign’s slogan was “It’s Okay To Say No [to same sex marriage]!”

One of the jurors is a middle eastern guy who grew out his stubble for a few days before the trial and glared at the barristers when they were rejecting jurors in the hope that they’d “think [he] looked like a terrorist” (his words) and get rid of him.

It didn’t work.

After he told us this, he said, “I should have grown a beard and put three plaits in it.”

Watching the slow decline of our next door neighbours’ collective mental health.

Waking up one morning to find they’d posted jury duty memes on their door.

“Waiting for the jury to come to a verdict” 

[Picture of a skeleton]

“Look at all the fucks I give” replaced with “look at all the counts we have to decide”

A picture of a group of old white guys in suits laughing their asses off, captioned with, “And then I said it’d only take fourteen weeks!”

They’ve been deliberating for two and a half months.

Every time one of my fellow jurors ran into them they came back wide-eyed and traumatised, convinced next door had totally lost it.

“Ha ha ha, you must be new here.”

Next door’s jurors often looked over their shoulder and squinted at us suspiciously if we happened to glance in their direction when they went into their room.

Rumour has it that they’d lost it so much they’d become obnoxiously perky, in that “I’m about to go insane” kind of way. I wasn’t sure about this, but later one Very Happily opened a door for me with a massive grin and a bit of eyetwitching, and... yeah, it’s totally true, they lost it.

There was also a rumour one of their walls was covered in mugshots, but I never got to see it because of aforementioned suspicious squinting and cagey behaviour.

Occasionally, between sessions, a member of the jury will, out of the blue, say, “Fuckboy” and have the entire room crack up.

“Fuckboy 2.0!”

Wincing a bit and thinking, “Man, the Defence is asking the accused some hard questions!” only for the CP to basically go “hold my beer” and totally lay into the guy.

I will never, ever in my life see anything as awesome as the Crown Prosecutor laying into a pedophile ever again. It’s over. I may as well keel over and die now. I’m amazed the accused didn’t crack because he held this guy’s balls to the fire for three days.

Ladies and gentlemen and distinguished guests, the fucking Crown Prosecutor:

“So your aim with these meetups isn’t to have sex with underaged girls, but simply to get them to agree to meet you?”

“Yes.”

“... That’s it?"

“It’s a hobby.”

“Have you considered stamp collecting?” [Gets chewed out by the judge.]

“So the pinnacle of your sexual satisfaction is when they agree to meet, is that correct?”

“Yes. At my age, I don’t need anything more.”

[Vaguely smug] “Well, here we have Jane Doe* agreeing to meet up with you. That’s the pinnacle of your sexual satisfaction, that’s all you want from this conversation, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Great! Let’s have a cigarette!”

“In this chat log, we clearly see that this woman has claimed to be fifteen years old, and you’re now telling the jury you think she was lying. Why?”

“She’s in Rwanda, and claiming to have dated many white men. That’s not possible because I’ve been to Rwanda, there’s barely any white men like me there."

“So you must be hot property in Rwanda, huh?”

[Slightly put out] “Well, actually, yes!”

The accused kept insisting that no, cybersex didn’t turn him on unless the other person was turned on, no really, honestly, truly, he would never be aroused unless they were too and this was all for his partners’ benefits! Really!

He kept doing this until the CP blurt out, “Oh for god’s sake, if you’re so damn nice, why don’t you open a charity?”

(The judge yelled at him again.)

Reading the following sentence out in a completely deadpan tone of voice, as if describing the weather: “I suggest to you that you wrote the phrase ‘I want to suck your clit and cum -- C-U-M -- inside you’ in order to obtain an erection.”

He often read out sexually explicit excerpts like this. It got even funnier every time there was a misspelling, because the CP would absolutely insist on pronouncing it exactly as it was misspelled and also spelling it out.

“The victim said she was ‘spechless.’ I think she meant ‘speechless.’“

As he read out excerpts where entire sentences were made out of internet slang, bad spelling and acronyms, you could visibly see him age.

Srsly the other jurors thought this guy was boring. Boring. What was wrong with them this guy is amazing.

Fuckboy

The deadpan, srs bsnss dry humour of the Crown Prosecutor was only made even funnier by the contrast with his counterpart (the Defence Lawyer) being flamboyant and found of flourishing his cape every time he sits down.

The jury naming the DL “Happy Jumps” because he liked to spring out of his seat every time he was addressed and, when standing, would never stop smiling. Then when he sat down again cue the cape flourish!

(Even funnier because every single moment he wasn’t standing up he knew perfectly well his client was screwed and his face reflected it.)

I Would Now!!!! :)))) Like To Address The Jury!!!! :)))) To Inform Them :)))) That I, Happy Jumps, :))))) Speak Like This :)))) As If I'm Capitalising Every. Word. I Say. :)))) Complete with lots of. Hand. Gestures. :))))) And Emphasizing Every Other Word :)))) And Pausing. Inexplicably. In The Middle Of My. Sentences. :)))) Just So I Can :)))) Smile At The Jury :))))

He talks exACTLY LIKE MY FUCKGING DAD DOES WHAT THE FCUK

Except for the part he introduced himself to us and at one point said, “As the court case climaxes, I will -- wait, advances, I MEANT ADVANCES.”

The jurors naming one of Happy Jumps’ cronies “Benny” because of how much he looked like Ben Affleck.

At one point Benny got inexplicably banished to the public gallery.

It’s okay, he was invited back to the bar table later.

The moment Happy Jumps officially doomed his own client to never being taken seriously by the jury again:

“So, your screenname here is written as JohnDoefb*. John Doe* is your name, correct?”

“That’s correct.”

“What does ‘fb’ stand for?”

[Flinches]

“?”

[Incoherent mumbling]

“Could you please repeat that louder?”

“...”

“...”

“... ‘Fuckboy.’“

The entire jury lost their shit.

(Very, very quietly.)

[samanthabreedlove-blog]

FUCK Tampa. (part 3)

Tampa is way different, more spread out with named streets-- industrial, working class sprawl that goes on for miles-- all stripmalls and sports bars but for Ybor City, a historic neighborhood on the northeast side of downtown. Ybor was once known as Cigar City because cigar manufacturers populated warehouses across town with thousands of immigrants who would expertly craft cuban cigars. After the embargo in the mid part of the century, the town fell to shambles, remaining desolate until the 1990s when developers turned it until a night-club party district renovating all those old warehouses into “trendy” bars and music venues. My friends and I would venture to Tampa for one of just four reasons, all of which were located in Ybor City: shows at Masquerade Theater, 80s night at the Castle, D.J. Noi’s annual Halloween party, and Sink or Swim at the Orpheum. Tampa guys were, for all intents and purposes, douchebags and the girls were mean as hell. Punks in Tampa but for Old School Dan were either Nazis, or the kids that ran the Chaos Crew: straight-edge assholes who carried padlocks in their back pockets wrapped in red handkerchiefs that they'd use to beat the fuck out of people.

Most of the kids in the Tampa scene weren't really punks; they were Hipsters who lived on the internet writing dumb entries in their Livejournals, and perfecting the art of getting laid via Friendster. Dating Tampa guys was a known no-no. They just weren’t trustworthy. If you dated a guy who was a part of the Tampa scene, he would cheat on you.

Laura was one year younger and sweet as pie. She grew up North Pinellas County, in an area named Kenneth City out by Tyrone Mall. We met in 2002, when she was still in high school. One evening Quinn and I went over to the apartment Emily and Alex shared. Chris Glasser and Dallas were there; they had brought over Laura who they’d met the previous weekend at Halloween Horror Nights, a shit show for “grown-ups” that occurs during the month of October: Universal Studios Orlando turns into a series of terrifying haunted houses and everyone in attendance gets shit-can drunk on overpriced specialty cocktails made from energy drink and rum that are served in giant souvenir plastic cups.

Laura, who was 17, Chris, Dallas, Anna, Alex and Emily were sitting around a table in the middle of the kitchen. They were playing a game. Quinn and I watched slack-jawed as they explained it to us. Here’s how you play: pour Laura a shot of Jim Beam, then say “Laura, Take A Shot” and she takes it. Laura was fall-down drunk, slumped over in her seat and laughing hysterically with her wire-rimmed glasses askew across her face. She was so adorable and really fucking drunk. From this encounter, two things could be ascertained:

1) Laura was down for anything, and

2) Laura needed better friends than Chris and Dallas who lacked any sense of moral integrity and clearly had their sights on her v-card.

Sweet baby girl, we loved her from the get go, and quickly adopted Laura as one of our own. Laura was pretty with long black hair and piercing blue eyes. Introverted and a little weird, Laura is by far the most well read person I’ve ever known. She'd gone to one of those magnet high schools for smart kids and has a full ride to USF where she studies Comparative Lit. Laura was the kind of girl you just want to take care of. The epitome of the “girl next door”, her top three favorite bands of all time were the Postal Service, Piebald, and The Mountain Goats. She preferred indie music to punk, and was relieved when it became more popular in the mid-aughts, because then she didn’t have to listen to GG Alin anymore while driving around a bunch of degenerates in her red Toyota Camry.

So, in 2003, when Laura’s dirtbag Tampa boyfriend, Seth St. James, cheated on her with the town jizz jar-- a chick named Kegan, at Chateau le Scum on Cleveland St, it broke all our hearts. The Scum House was disgusting-- two stories with the connecting steps all falling down, and a little nook under the stairs where people would make out. Cheap linoleum in the kitchen where there were no cupboard doors, but there was always a keg of PBR. No doors on the bathroom, either, actually. They fell off and weren't replaced “because only guys live here, we don’t need them.” In the living room there were way too many tattered couches, decrepit flower-patterned wall paper peeling off, and gross burgundy shag carpet all soaked in booze. Just being in that house you were liable to get an STD. Within a year, all the residents are made to vacate because the building was condemned.

At the time, Alex was dating Thomas, who also lived at Scum House. All the Tampa girls hated us “St. Pete Trash”. They were pissed off their guys were dating across the bridge and they’d made their feelings about that pretty clear. Kegan was best friends with TraceyXFashion and Tracey was a cunt; bottle blonde with a Monroe piercing and fucked up teeth. Her dad was a sheriff in Daytona, which I guess made her think she could do whatever the fuck she wanted. She always wore a white belt turned backwards, carried gold plated brass knuckles in the back pocket of her dark denim jeans and worked at the Hot Topic in University Mall. Without fail, Tracey and her Tampa bitches went dancing at the Castle every Thursday and Monday night.  

The Castle is a night-club in Ybor set up to look like a medieval gothic-style european church that opened in 1992. Up the stairs and to the right is the main dance area, a huge open room with dark mahogany walls and too many smoke machines. Off to the side near the bar are red velvet couches where people would go to make out. In the center of the dance floor are four large black pedestals and a couple cages, where goth kids would stand and vogue. Thursdays they host an 80s Night, and from 2002-2005 my crew was there every single week. Still underage, we’d get our hands X’d from Scotty at the front door which was free before 10pm. Behind a dumpster nearby we coined the Drunk Box, the girls would hide Big Gulps full of Old Crow and Coke. Throughout the evening, we’d return to Drunk Box in droves to maintain a steady state of inebriation, and also to pee. There were bathrooms inside of course, but this was more efficient. The lines went on FOREVER, and also, the ladies who worked the bathroom making sure no one washed their X’s off were really fucking aggressive-- sometimes they’d even kick down the doors if they thought you were doing blow or using hand sanitizer to get the black magic marker off of your hands. Most of the time you weren’t even doing anything wrong. Underage peeing at the Castle was a pretty stressful experience.

That Thursday in 2003, Tracey was standing at the Castle’s bar. She was laughing with Kegan about fucking Seth, right in front of Laura. What a bitch. Then later on the dance floor Tracey was doing this real cool move where she'd shove us all around while dancing. When Laura got pissed and shoved her back, Tracey pushes her down, breaking her glasses, then she flicked a cigarette out onto Alex’s exposed foot stomping down on the butt to smash it in and nearly breaks Alex’s big toe.

But Anna was there, too, and Anna is punk as fuck; firey at 5” 3, with dyed black hair and Bettie Page bangs. She has a tattoo of orange blossoms on her wrist, bee-stung lips painted orange-red, black jeans, and a silver studded nose ring. Anna wasn’t afraid of Tracey or anyone else. Girls like Tracey go around picking fights by way of intimidation because most all of time people back down. But St. Pete girls are tough. We’ve got grit, and that night we’d had enough. Raised on a steady diet of punk rock and whiskey, we don’t back down from a fight. Tracey threw a drink on Anna who was yelling at her, so she knocked her out cold and keeps punching her even after she’s pinned Tracey down on that sticky-wood dance floor. When security showed up, they kicked out Tracey and her Tampa friends, but none of us because no one liked them anyway. As Tracey's getting dragged out the back, blood gushing out of her nose-- Anna says real calm like, “yo bitch, don't ever fuck with my friends.” The night Anna knocks out Tracey will go down in our collective memories as one of the coolest things that has ever happened. Period. But, lesson learned. Fuck Tampa. In the years that follow-- we all kept our distance, the line in the sand drawn out clear as day. That was in the early renegade days, when you could still be invisible if you wanted to be; before peacocking on the internet became par for the course. Hipster invasion hits and by 2007, things had shifted a lot. Everyone’s all on MySpace and fixed gear culture becomes the great equalizer; the two areas once divided brought together through an intense love for riding bikes.