#trent:jo

[icarian-carrion]

@bloodrodeo commented 32 - Doom Days by Bastille

Jo spares an idle look down at her phone and grimaces, nose wrinkling like she's smelled something terrible. She was just checking her notifications, but her Instagram is lighting up, and she's got to go on yet another blocking spree - one of the girls from the sorority house must have had a video on tiktok blow up again, and of course it had her in it. "You know that rule, just don't read the comments ever? I fail at that every time." She sighs, glancing up at Trent. "I should just toss this in a lake. It's like livestreaming the final days of Rome."

[icarian-carrion]

@bloodrodeo gets a  moody  starter

She's pouting. Scowling would be better, maybe. More dignified. But she's pouting, head on his shoulder, staring down at her phone. Jo knows he can see the message on the screen, an email (an email, not a text message, of course it's not a text message) from her father, something about an event he expects her to be at, no excuses, and she feels like escaping yet again, changing her name and disappearing. "... you ever think about joining the circus?"

[icarian-carrion]

@bloodrodeo sent 💍 to wake up in vegas

Jo wakes to the sound of - a phone alarm? No, a phone call, one of the default ringtones she leaves for people she doesn’t care about. She reaches over to decline it, but the damage is done. She’s definitely awake now. Jo yawns and looks beside her, where Trent is still out cold with his arms wrapped around a pillow - probably a substitute after she squirmed away from him sometime during the night. The digital clock reads 3pm, and she winces. No, that makes sense. She vaguely recalls sitting with Trent outside some obnoxiously lit by the slice pizza place, watching the sun come up, lighting the sky around the hotels yellow and pink. At least she’s not hungover.

That’s what she thinks until she sits up and really checks her phone, anyway. Fourteen missed calls, so many text messages from so many people that she couldn’t even see them all on her lock screen, and most of them just say “call me back”. Instagram notifications, likes, messages. She doesn’t seem to be banned, so clearly nothing she and Trent did last night got posted. Jo leans back against the cushioned headboard and opens the app, bracing for a topless picture that hasn’t been taken down yet, but what she sees makes her head hurt. “Oh, fuck.” She groans. “Trent?” Jo grabs a pillow from behind her and smacks him with it. “Trent, wake the fuck up right fucking now-”

[icarian-carrion]

♡☁️

They watch tons of slasher flicks. Jo pretends she’s all about your high brow horror, your Suspiria remakes and your Midsommars, but she loves snuggling up with Trent to work their way through every Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday the 13th.

Related: they are unmatched in couples costumes during Halloween and they never buy anything pre made. They raid every Salvation Army thrift store for miles to find the right clothes to turn into their costumes and get really good with hot glue guns and safety pins. They could get the whole thing looking a lot more professional, Jo is always kind of looking at cosplay resources, but she knows that if she goes down that road she’ll start getting all type A and it’ll stop being fun.

[icarian-carrion]

@bloodrodeo sent ꕤ for a general edit

I remember the view Streetlights in the dark blue.

[icarian-carrion]

NEW YEARS KISS ! 😽

They’ve lived their lives on sunrise and sunset. Midnight just isn’t important when you’re only worried about getting to the next safe harbor before the sun goes down and leaves you vulnerable in the dark. Actually, Jo isn’t even sure who suggested staying up. Maybe neither of them did, and it’s just one of those weird things, like your internal clock kicking in on a weekday morning when your alarm fails. But there was a half empty bottle of Wild Turkey in the last house they crashed in, and the day is here, so there they are, sitting in the bed of the truck and looking up at the night sky like they’re waiting for fireworks that they both know will never come, talking about nothing at all like they always do. Trent passes Jo the bottle for the third, maybe fourth time, and even though it's beyond stupid to be drunk in the middle the apocalypse, she takes another long, burning sip. He laughs quietly at the face she makes, and Jo wrinkles her nose.

"Don't be a dick. This shit is gross." Jo grumbles as she passes it back to him.

She looks down at her watch, and it takes her a second to register the time. 12:04 blinks back at her, and she decides she's not going to tell him, because maybe they were both waiting for fireworks, and four minutes past midnight feels like a letdown. Like they've missed something important. "Happy New Year's, Mister Miracle." Jo says, and even though it's almost as bad an idea as cheap whiskey at the end of the world, she wraps an arm around his shoulders for balance and kisses him. It's not as smooth as it could've been. He's surprised and she's sitting a little too far away to be comfortable, and he doesn't seem to know where to put his hands and she definitely doesn't know where to put her hands and he tastes like rye and she probably tastes like cigarettes. It's over too fast, but his hand cups her face and for a second after she pulls away his thumb ghosts over her bottom lip, and she can barely breathe.

@bloodrodeo

edit - I had an idea for a normal au one too and couldn't help myself, cut for length

Jo is starting to think she’s getting too old for frat parties. She can’t let herself slip socially, she’s too proud for that, but everyone else is younger, having more fun, and Jo feels like she sticks out. Trent doesn’t stick out at all. She can see him across the crowd, towering over a group of guys he knows from God knows where. Maybe he doesn’t know them at all, but Jo knows that if she asked any of them, they’d call him one of their best friends. Trent’s just like that. He’s like water, he moves easily and fills any open space. He looks good tonight too, which isn’t a surprise, he usually looks good, but for some reason it’s annoying her. Eventually Trent sees her looking and gives her a wave, and she waves back, lifting her canned cider up in a toast. Jo is surprised to see him making his way over to her, but she finds out why when he pulls up the chair next to her.

“That’s them, right?” He jerks his head in a direction somewhere to the left of them, and Jo glances over, lifting the can to her lips again. Yup, that’s them - Blondie and her bestie, and Jo can’t tell if they’re fighting, but the conversation is intense. She can vaguely hear the countdown starting around them, but she’s straining to hear - something about her brother? Wait, what was that? She wishes she could read lips.

The countdown hits zero and Jo gasps, soap opera style, as Blondie’s friend grabs the front of her cute little Fashion Nova dress and pulls her in for a kiss. “She did it, she- oh, fuck.”

Jo doesn’t really care if they’re caught snooping, but she knows an opportunity when she sees one. She stands up to set the can down on the shitty patio table next to them, and then slides into Trent's lap and presses her lips to his. She can hear the hiss-pop of the extremely illegal fireworks the boys bought going off, and isn't is silly that this is the kiss that she can genuinely say had sparks going off. She loops her arms around his neck and moves her lips close to his ear to whisper "I don't think they saw." But she's pretty sure he doesn't care either.

[icarian-carrion]

🌿🍒 hehe

send “🌿🍒” (or "mistletoe") for my muse's reaction to standing under a mistletoe with your muse  ♡

Jo glances up above them and has to hold back a snort. How long has that been up there? She chokes back some know it all Folklore and Mythology 101-type diatribe about how mistletoe was associated with human sacrifice in pre-Roman Britain, and how Trent wouldn’t believe what the Ancient Greeks called it. She chokes it back because it’s a parasitic weed, and a dumb Victorian tradition made up to entertain servants in hell-hot kitchens, and most of all because she doesn’t want the trouble from pointing it out.

She doesn’t have to.

His eyes flick upwards, and then down to meet hers, and Jo feels her mouth go dry. Stupid. This is so fucking stupid. The mistletoe, the fact that they saw it, this weird awkwardness - does anybody fucking like this ridiculous superstition? Or is it only good for making people uncomfortable?

But it’ll only be worse if they have to pretend they didn’t see it, only hang in the air between them all goddamn night.

“What? You waiting on me? You’re about eight feet tall, I’m not doing anything without a ladder.”

@bloodrodeo

[icarian-carrion]

@bloodrodeo picked 52 and got: Naked in Manhattan - Chappell Roan

When I sing that Lana song, it makes you cry Mean Girls, we watch it every night And we both have a crush on Regina George

[icarian-carrion]

“But what about you then? Am I what you expected?" “You know... actually, I think you are."

@bloodrodeo liked the thing (x)

[icarian-carrion]

playlist!!!!!!

When You Were Young - The Killers 

He doesn't look a thing like Jesus But he talks like a gentlemen Like you imagined when you were young

Bulletproof Heart - My Chemical Romance

I got a bulletproof heart, you got a hollow-point smileMe and your runaway scarsGot a photographed dream on the getaway mile

Little Lion Man - Mumford And Sons

Weep for yourself, my man You'll never be what is in your heart Weep, little lion man You're not as brave as you were at the start

Born to Run - Bruce Springsteen 

'Cause tramps like us, baby, we were born to run

Bonus ✨ bad ending ✨ song

Skin - Rag ‘n Bone Man

When I heard that sound When the walls came downI was thinking about you […] Yeah we came so close, it was almost loveIt was almost love, it was almost love