#I had a purse large enough to fit my laptop but I opted for the smaller one because I’m such a lil genius

[ekmeko]

Im able to fake it through most situations but whenever im at the mercy of airtravel it makes it all the more evident that psychologically I’m better fit for the ups and downs of the mobula ray lifestyle

they don’t have to worry about checking in bags or anything

[thestorytellerofkpop]

The Steps in Finding Love; Trust

Title: The Steps in Finding Love; Trust

Word Count: 7.8k+

Rating: T with eventual M

Genre: Realistic fiction, slice of life, drama, fluff with eventual smut

Warnings: Established member x member relationship, bad made up makeup names and references, a desert fantasy, Jungkook is soft, this is part three of a four part series

Pairings: Female Reader x BTS members, Jimin x Jungkook (Jikook)

Summary: “The third step to finding love was trust, and I didn’t know what that truly meant until I got to experience it again.”

1, 2, 3, 4 (finale, coming August 23rd)

You didn’t know what time it was, nor did you seem to care as your fingers diligently typed away at the computer in front of you. The blue haze was your only source of light as you worked in the darkness of your office, besides the faint white light that shined through the glass walls from the end of the hallway. Your eyes were glazed over and your back was bent, leaning towards the screen almost as if that would make you work faster and quicker. But you knew that it was moot. Nothing was working. According to your sales charts and collective data, nothing you would produce would live up to the hype that was Cake. Sure, Taehyung’s creative visions were produced and marketed, as well as the occasional idea from Jimin and Jungkook, and they did well! Don’t confuse yourself, because those sales were great and profitable. But they didn’t reach the numbers that Cake did. None of these ideas that were pitched two days ago would either, according to your analysis. And you were panicking. Sales were steady for now, but were projected to drop off in the next year if you and your team didn’t get something out soon. You refused to be ‘The Proclaimers’ of the makeup industry, only having one huge one-hit wonder then retire after a crappy attempt at a second album (in your case, makeup line). This was your newest dilemma, and oh were you stressed. 

You sighed, running a hand down your face to try and wake yourself up, but it was to no avail. You plopped your head down onto your desk, repeatedly banging your forehead against the cool glass. A soft tapping sound made you look up from your fit, and like an angel descending from the gates of heaven was Taehyung. His manicured nails tapped against the door again, looking at you through the glass with the softest expression you’ve ever seen him have. You tilted your head, and Taehyung entered, pulling along one of the chairs in your office so he could sit with you. Once he plopped down next to you, you sighed, looking up into his eyes.

“Hi,” you mumbled guiltily.

“Hi.” Taehyung’s lips pulled up into a smile, but you could tell from his eyes he wasn’t exactly happy with you. “You know it’s 4 a.m. right?”

“No,” you admitted. “I wasn’t keeping track of the time.”

Taehyung sighed, leaning across the desk to turn on the little lamp there, basking the room into a soft golden glow. He gently closed the laptop in front of you, forcing you to focus only on him. 

He looked beautiful. He always did. White-washed jeans, white t-shirt, round glasses, and his shaggy grey hair really did make him look angelic. He was actually dressed down today. There was no elaborate makeup like usual, only a simple coverup and a swipe of something glossy on his lips. And his jewelry was barren, only simple silver studs were in his ears and a silver band around his pointer finger. This made your eyes crinkle.

“What’s wrong?” you asked him. Taehyung pursed his lips.

“Why would something be wrong?”

“Because you haven’t dressed this simply since high school.” you argued, and this made Taehyung smile.

“Can’t I dress down every once in a while?” he countered.

“Without eyeshadow and contouring?” your eyes studied his face carefully, the corners of your lips twitching in amusement. “Bitch, please.”

This made Taehyung laugh, long and hearty, and you couldn’t help but join him.

“Okay, fine, I resent.” Taehyung said through his dying giggles. “It’s the boys.” you furrowed your brows at his words, shifting to look at him more clearly.

“What’s wrong? Are they okay?” Taehyung sighed, idly picking through the papers on your desk.

“I had to take them into emergency care this morning.”

“What!?” you gasped, watching Taehyung’s face contort into one of despair. You took his hand into yours, scooting closer so that your knees were touching underneath the desk. 

“Both of them?” Taehyung nodded, and with that you pulled him in for a hug, practically pulling the larger male into your lap as he sighed against your neck.

“Will they be okay though?” you mumbled, and you felt Taehyung nod against your skin.

“They’ll be stuck at the hospital for a while though.”

“Hey, look at me,” you guided Taehyung’s head up so you could look at him. “Yeontan and V are the strongest boys I know, they’ll be okay, I promise.”

“It was V that was having complications this morning, and you know how Yeontannie is. He didn’t want to leave his big brother so I had no choice but to leave him with V at the emergency vet center. They’ll be there for the rest of the week.” Taehyung lips pulled into a frown. 

“I was lonely without my fluffy boys, I couldn’t sleep without them in bed with me so that’s why I came to the office. Only to find the second most important girl in my life here looking like a hermit slouched over her computer. So now it’s your turn. What’s wrong?”

“Who’s the most important girl in your life?” you asked curiously.

“My mother.” Taehyung giggled. 

“Fair enough.” you chuckled as Taehyung moved back into his chair. 

“So what’s up Y/N? It’s not like you to stay and work overnight.”

“I know,” you sighed, looking down at the remnants of your work clothes. You had taken off your blouse and changed into one of the BeauV Cosmetics t-shirts that were left in the stock room, the letters curly and bright blue against the black background. You still wore your shorts, opting for the denim instead of your usual work pants since you didn’t have any meetings today. And your heels were in the corner, sparkling and golden. “I’ve been running projections all night.”

“And?” Taehyung asked. You sighed, opening your laptop. Taehyung peered over your shoulder as you pulled up multiple screens and analysis. 

“We’ll be steady for a year before sales will start to exponentially go down. We need another constant. We need another Cake. Another V line, another PJM or JJK. Because everything newer is okay, don’t get me wrong. We have sales and everything. But it’s nothing compared to our first stuff. We’ve been playing too safe recently and until we come up with something amazing, by this time next year we might be forgotten.”

“You know the fans wouldn’t let that happen,” Taehyung tried to reassure you. You knew he was right. You had a loyal fanbase. But…

“Yeah I know. But we’re no James Charles or Jeffree Star. We have fans, sure, but our following isn’t as large.” Taehyung sighed, grabbing your hand just like how you grabbed his.

“You’re right babe, we don’t have as many fans as they do. But y’know what? We aren’t them. We’re us. We’re BeauV. We’re Y/N, Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung. And I wouldn’t change it for the world. We’re amazing, we’re beautiful, and we’re gonna get through this. We just…need a creative spark to boost us up is all.” Taehyung smiled as you contemplated his words.

“And how do you suggest we do that?”

~*~

You crossed your arms as you watched your three friends run around the parking lot, admiring and drooling over the vintage cars. Taehyung had flown you all out to America, Arizona to be exact, for a well needed vacation. He said taking a break and getting out of the country would help get the creative juices flowing. Why he had picked Arizona of all places you didn’t know, but you had to admit you loved the desert. The bright orange Rockies and clear blue skies were visually stunning. 

“Y/N! Y/N!” Jungkook ran up to you, his eyes shinning with child-like glee. “Come look at the car we picked out!” he grabbed your hand, tugging you through the hot, dry air to meet Jimin and Taehyung.

“Oh,” you gasped, gently running the tips of your fingers over the hot, red metal. It was like stepping into every 1950′s movie you watched as a child, the old school Chevy was cherry red, and it’s white top was down, showing off the red leather. The whitewall tires were to die for and you instantly had a craving for Coca-Cola. 

“Beautiful, right?” Jimin chuckled, jumping into the backseat. “She’s ours for the next two weeks!”

“How expensive-”

“Hush,” Taehyung shushed you, placing a finger over your lips. “It’s fine Y/N. Money is but an object.”

“But the business-”

“Y/N,” Jungkook whined, his lips pulling into a pout as he joined Jimin in the back. “This vacation is supposed to take our minds off work, just relax. It’s fine.”

“He’s right. We have savings sweetie, it’s okay, just enjoy yourself.” Jimin coaxed you with a gentle smile. 

“C’mon,” Taehyung opened the passenger door for you, allowing you to sit against the warm leather seats. He closed the door, quickly running to the drivers side before starting the car. The engine purred to life and it’s rumble made your heart beat faster. 

Taehyung drove out of the lot with a squeal of the tires and out into the Arizona sun. The wind whipped through your hair and in between your fingers as you stared in awe at the mountains and cactuses and the long, dusty asphalt roads. Taehyung blared music through the radio, classic rock ringing through your ears with the sounds of the whipping wind. You could hear Jimin and Jungkook singing behind you, and you turned around to sneak a peak at them. 

Their hair was wild, whipping through the wind like yours, but their smiles were radiant, taking in the sun and music as you all drove deeper into the desert. They looked so happy and carefree, so beautiful and so loved that it made your heart clench. They put on each other’s sunglasses and when Jungkook caught you staring he just giggled, pulling an extra pair from his bag and shoving them up your nose, the bright, neon colors becoming a little muted. He bopped your nose, making you smile as you turned to Taehyung. 

He had his sunglasses on too, the wired ones with the pink lenses in them. His smile didn’t waver, weaving the car through twists and turns that caused you all to laugh from the speed. He caught your eye, sending you a sly wink when he grabbed your hand, pulling them up into the wind flying by. You laughed at his antics, throwing up your other hand and for the first time in a long while, you finally felt free. Free from the work, free from the stress. 

You were finally able to just let go.  

You screamed in joy, joining the boys singing in the backseat and you felt like you were home. You could feel the love your boys had for you and each other, and you hoped that they could feel your love for them too. You felt two other hands join yours and Taehyungs in the air, and when you looked and saw all your boys smiling at you, all of you holding each other’s hands, you knew you’d rather be no where else but here underneath the Arizona sun. 

The afternoon went on, the music never stopping and the wind always blowing. The sun soon began to set, and when you stopped for gas you all changed positions as you stretched your legs. Now Jimin was driving; Taehyung joined him up front as you and Jungkook lounged in the backseat. Jimin was slower in his driving, barely going over 30 mph, taking the backroads so that you all could cruise and watch the sunset. 

You were laying against Jungkook, your back pressed up against his chest as both your legs tangled across the length of the seat, Jungkook’s feet touching the other side of the car. You were idly taking pictures of the sunset with your phone, capturing the shades of orange, pink and purple while Jimin and Taehyung sang soft tunes in the front seats, their voices calming as the light breeze traveled around you. Jungkook’s arms were wrapped around you, the fabric of his hoodie soft and comforting. You snuggled further into his embrace, taking your final pictures before dropping your phone to the floor of the car, turning to hide your face into his chest. Jungkook chuckled, nudging his nose against the curve of your cheek gently, his wispy hair tickling your skin.

“Comfortable, sweetheart?” he hummed, his hands gently rubbing circles into your stomach. You nodded, gently grabbing one of Jungkook’s hands as you closed your eyes, feeling Jungkook’s smile against your skin.

“Aww, how cute.” Taehyung cooed from the front seat. You heard Jimin laugh, and could imagine him shaking his head in disbelief. 

“It is pretty cute, the two of them all wrapped up together like that.” Jimin admitted, a light giggle falling past his lips. You heard the shutter of a camera and Taehyung giggling.

“Adorable, especially with the sunset around them,” Jimin cooed, “You really do love cuddling with women, huh Kookie?” Jimin teased, and you could feel Jungkook laugh into your hair.

“I love cuddling with Y/N,” he corrected, “Besides, she lets me be the big spoon.”

Taehyung laughed at this, teasing Jimin for being the big spoon when Jungkook clearly had a good few inches on him.

“Women are just better cuddlers,” Taehyung admitted with a wistful sigh. “They’re so soft, and warm. Plus their boobs dude, they’re like little pillows.”

You giggled into Jungkook’s chest, and if only you could see the bright smile he gave you, his teeth poking out behind his lips as he giggled too.

“Don’t worry babe, you’re still an amazing cuddler.” Jungkook reassured his husband, his fingers gently squeezing your own. “But sometimes you just want a woman’s touch.”

“As long as it’s consensual I don’t care,” Jimin rolled his eyes playfully, a flirtatious glint etched in them. “Besides, I know you’ll always be back in my bed at the end of the day. You can’t resist this ass.” Jimin blew him a kiss and Taehyung laughed so hard that tears pooled into his eyes. 

The sky soon became dark, the stars shining in more amounts than you’ve ever seen, and you all stared in awe at the mass amount of them without the city lights around you.

“We need to find a place for the night.” Jimin said.

“Just keep going down this road, take the right fork back to the main road and go down a couple miles, I found a little place to stay at before we left.” Taehyung told Jimin.

“Jungkookie?”

“Hmm?”

“Where’re we going? What’s our final destination?” Jungkook just smiled, placing a peck into the palm of your hand.

“The beauty of spontaneity Y/N, is that you never really know. But just enjoy the adventure, Taehyung knows what he’s doing.” he whispered to you.

After another fifteen minutes you were all pulling up to an adobe styled hotel, with a central plaza and all. You all took your luggage from the trunk, admiring the clay walls and oil paintings as the hotel keeper showed you all to your rooms. You were with Taehyung again, to save money he said, but really you knew he was lonely without his fluffy dogs to keep him warm at night. Your suspicions were confirmed when you were met with only one, king-sized bed (Jimin and Jungkook later telling you that they both had one as well). The room was tan and beautiful, traditional art and rugs of the region were scattered about and the tiles of the floor were white and pristine. 

You were allowed five minutes to freshen up before the boys pulled you out to hunt for food, finding yourself in a saloon-esque building in another ten. There was a bar on one wall and tables with hungry patrons against the other, but the stage is what caught your eye the most. You knew the building had to have been a strip club at one point, the long cat-walk isle down the center of the room made that obvious. It was unoccupied however, the band of the evening opting to stay on the main stage instead. There were people dancing to the music as well, making you smile and think of the last time you danced with Yoongi under the moonlight. You wondered how he was doing and decided to text him later, after all, he was watching your houseplants for you.

Once your bellies were full of stew and dirty rice, you and Taehyung watched Jimin and Jungkook dance all around the wooden floors as you both nursed glasses of local whiskey. Taehyung hummed low in his throat and you figured now would be as good a time as any to bring up something that was pestering in your mind.

“Tae?”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you tell Yoongi about our kiss?” you asked softly. No one knew about that fact except you three, not even Jimin or Jungkook who’ve been with you both for years. Taehyung sighed, groaning softly when he pulled his arms up in a stretch. 

“Confidant?” he said easily, rolling his eyes playfully when he saw your serious expression. “Okay fine. I told him about it as a tipoff.”

“A tipoff for what?” you questioned.

“After Art Walk, Yoongi called me and asked about you. He was whipped for you, extremely so. But that look you had in your eyes after we all left the elevator the night of the Cake launch, I knew you weren’t going to fall in love with him. You were pursuing him after a bad breakup Y/N, it was obvious you were drawn to Yoongi for his comforting words and wisdom. But he was persistent, so then I started talking about us, our friendship, and the kiss was mentioned in passing as a way just to get it over with. A friend trusting a friend. I think that gave him the tipoff that you were only seeing him as some sort of sanctuary. Yoongi knew it too, but he really wanted another’s opinion. And when it comes to you, who knows you better than me?” Taehyung shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. 

“So it was really you that prevented me and Yoongi from getting together.” you huffed, your lips pulling up. “You conniving little shit.” you smacked his arm and he just chuckled.

“Are you mad?”

“No,” you paused, tilting your head in thought. “If you would’ve told me that a few months ago, yes. But I’m kinda glad you did. I don’t want to be in a relationship based on false emotions. I was rushing to find love, but now I know good things come to those who wait.”

“Amen to that.” Taehyung raised his glass, clinking it with yours as you both downed the rest of your whiskey. “Come dance,” he ushered you out of your seat when a slower song started playing. He pressed his chest to your back as he guided you into a slow sway, his arms draped across your waist. You rolled your eyes, allowing your hands to grip onto his biceps.

“You’ve been working out.” you commented.

“Mmhmm.” he hummed into your hair.

“Who’re you trying to impress?” you teased.

“You,” he winked and he took your slap in stride. “What? I’m serious.”

“And so am I. We’ve already talked about this.”

“Blah, blah, blah.” Taehyung mocked you, placing a kiss on your cheek. “You know you want me.”

“Only if neither of us are married by thirty-five.”

“Hey, it was thirty last time, you keep changing our contract.” Taehyung whined.

“Ugh, fine. Thirty then. Now for real, who’s the lucky person?”

“There’s a cute newbie working with the scientists,” he mumbled and you could feel the warmth of his blush rise. “He’s extremely sweet and endearing, a total fitness junkie. Him and Kookie workout sometimes. But I think he finds me intimidating and weird.”

“Is it the clothes, the elaborate makeup, or the flamboyantness do you think?” you teased and Taehyung whined behind you. “Okay, okay. Honestly, just talk to him Tae? If he doesn’t like you, your fishnets and crop-tops, your heels or your makeup then he doesn’t deserve someone as wonderful as you.”

“You’re too sweet,” Taehyung cooed, “But thank you.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, continuing to sway in place as you watched Jimin and Jungkook across the dance floor. They were entangled together, light staccato kisses being pressed between their lips as they held each other close. Your heart clenched; they looked so in love it was almost sickening, and no matter how much they teased each other or joked about having threesomes (honestly though, with Jungkook being Jungkook, you wouldn’t doubt it to be very real between them) they always ended up back together in each other’s arms. You guessed that’s what marriage entailed; always wanting to come back to the one you loved the most, the one you’d want to spend the rest of your life with. 

“Well I’ll be damned.” a voice broke you out of your stupor. “Y/N L/S, is that really you?”

You looked up and you gasped, easily breaking out of Taehyung’s grasp as you both looked at the person who spoke in shock. 

~*~

“Hoseok?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think we’ll ever see each other again?”

“I’m moving to L.A., not to the moon.” the boy laying next to you chuckled, leaning over to place a tender kiss against your cheek.

“I know, but it’s still so far away, and I’ll miss you.” you admitted, a soft sigh expelling from your lips.

“Hey, look at me,” Hoseok cooed, taking one of your hands. You glanced over at him.

“I promise I’ll call, hell I’ll even write if I have to. Trust me, I’m not going to forget you Y/N.” he smiled, radiant and bright. “And after I graduate high school, I’m going to work and make enough money to move back home to be with you.”

~*~

You thought Hoseok had forgotten you. After he had left with his family, he did call, almost everyday. But as the months went on, after he had graduated, the calls came less and less, and eventually they just stopped. Oh, how you remember the longing for him to call you back, to return just one call, but he never did. It didn’t really “hurt”, after all, you both had left each other on good terms and it was a fleeting high school relationship. One filled with shy kisses and passing notes in class. You knew Hoseok must’ve been busy, making a living in America would certainly be a good enough excuse to forget to call. But he was still your first love, and his actions and loss in a promise made you guard the promises you chose to make, keeping those words tight and close until you knew you could trust another to not break them like Hoseok had. Even when Seokjin came along, the first man you were with after Hoseok, you still kept your guard up, albeit less than before. 

But of all things, you didn’t expect to see him standing in front of you, in a musty saloon in the middle of nowhere in Arizona, many years later. 

“Hoseok?” you questioned, carefully taking a step forward. 

He looked completely different from what you’ve remembered him to be. You always saw the eighteen year-old in your mind whenever you thought of him; mousey brown hair, scattered acne, gangly limbs, bright eyes and a smile to match. The man in front of you had dark red hair, matching the mountains of the desert. His face was tan, smooth, clear, and his arms and legs were taut with muscle and a few scattered scars. But you knew that smile anywhere, and those bright eyes haven’t aged a day, but still, you didn’t want to believe it was him. 

“Who’s my favorite Backstreet Boy?” you asked suddenly and Taehyung giggled behind you. Hoseok rolled his eyes.

“Really, the security question Y/N? C’mon, it’s me.” he tried again, taking a step closer to you.

“Then the answer should be easy.” you challenged.

“Y/N,” Taehyung shook his head with a chuckle, moving in front of you to give your friend a hug. Hoseok chuckled as Taehyung bounded into his arms, holding him close.

“Good to see you too Tae.” he ruffled the younger’s hair, looking at you expectantly. “Don’t I get a hug from you, Y/N?”

“Not until you answer the question.” you were persistent, and you must’ve spoken a little too loud, because Jimin and Jungkook came wandering over.

“Is there a problem here?” Jungkook asked defensively, wrapping a protective arm around your shoulder. Hoseok’s eyes followed Jungkook’s grip, a dark flash of something passing through them before they turned bright again.

“Stand down lover boy,” Taehyung chuckled. “This is Hoseok, a childhood friend from high school.”

“Oh! Nice to meet you!” Jimin, the ever loving man that he was, held out his hand and Hoseok took it with a smile.

“Y/N, this is ridiculous-”

“The security questions weren’t ridiculous in high school.” you countered. 

“That was eight years ago!” Hoseok laughed, shaking his head. “And us three made those up in case a zombie apocalypse broke out and someone was trying to impersonate us.”

“If you could remember all that you should know the answer.” you raised your eyebrow and Hoseok sighed, pursing his lips as he stared at Jungkook’s hand again, the boy’s arm still wrapped around you protectively. 

“Your favorite Backstreet Boy is Nick Carter, because he could dance really well. You used to tease me about him being a better dancer than me just to rile me up.” Hoseok smirked and you sighed in defeat

“Now c’mere,” Hoseok held his arms open and you moved into him, allowing his arms to wrap around you.

Damnit, he was warm, and he smelled so good. You relaxed in hold involuntarily, your guard dropping.

“I’ve missed you. So, so much.” he whispered into your ear. You pulled away from him with a small smile.

“I’ve missed you too, but you have a lot of explaining to do.”

~*~

“You have every right to be upset-”

“Damn right I do.” you agreed, watching as the boys danced around while you and Hoseok took refuge at the table. Taehyung ushered the other two out to dance, knowing you’d want to talk with Hoseok alone and after a few shots, they were more than willing to do so as more party-goers came out to dance to the country twang as the night grew darker.

“You broke your promise.” you continued, your voice a little softer this time. “You, sir, are the cause of a lot of trust issues.”

“Guilty,” Hoseok chuckled, and his laugh was contagious. “After graduation, I knew I didn’t want to stay in L.A.”

“Why’s that?”

“It was too artificial, too showy. But I loved the desert, I loved the mountains.” Hoseok eyes lit up. “I taught dance while I was there though, saved money and bought my own car and I just drove and drove until the car broke down at a Native American reservation about fifty miles from here, over the river.” he paused, biting his lip.

“Hobi?” you questioned, and the corners of his lips turned up at the use of your old nickname.

“Most of the money I saved was originally going towards a plane ticket, to go back home to Korea. To see you.” he admitted. “But something called me here. I couldn’t let it go, so I took the risk and I’ve never been happier. The population is less than 5,000, quiet and local. And I work as a river guide, taking groups down the rapids for hours at a time. I even do multi day excursions, just exploring the flora and fauna and meeting wonderful people as we camp under the stars.”

“Well, that explains the muscles.” you chuckled. Hoseok sighed, reaching out to take your hand in his.

“There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by where I didn’t think about calling you. About calling your parents or Taehyung when one day your number just didn’t go through anymore. It’s hard out here though, signal’s are always going out.”

“When it was in though, why didn’t you?” you asked. “I missed you, Hoseok. You were my first love, but more than that, you were my friend too.”

“I don’t know why,” he answered honestly. “But I can tell you I missed you too. So much. I saw you in the cactus flowers, the stars in the sky, but none of them compare to you now. You’re so much more beautiful than I remembered you to be.” you chuckled, shaking your head at him.

“You still have your way with words.” you teased.

“No, I genuinely mean it Y/N.” he gripped your hand tighter. “You look more…relaxed, more glowing and bright. It’s gorgeous, you’re gorgeous.”

“Oh, stop.” you blushed, avoiding his gaze.

“I won’t, I have seven years of complimenting to catch up on. I know I’ve broken my promise of coming back, but I never stopped thinking about you in the corner of my mind. Can you forgive me for hurting you? For breaking your trust?” you’ve never heard Hoseok beg before, but you guessed this would as close as you can get to it. He looked so hopeful. You sighed, picking up your drink and taking a tentative sip as Hoseok was practically falling off the edge of his seat. 

“I’ll forgive, but I won’t forget Mr. Jung.” you smirked and Hoseok’s smile permeated your heart and warmth spread through your belly, but you blamed the whiskey for that. 

“I’ll take what I can get.” Hoseok chuckled, his thumb gently rubbing over the back of your hand. “So, what’ve you been doing on the other side of the world while I’ve been scaling the white waters?”

“Well, remember Tae and I’s dream of having our own company?”

“Nah, shut up. You guys didn’t.” Hoseok exclaimed, his smile growing as you pulled up your company’s website on your phone, showing him the PR photos of you and the three boys posing with the Cake palette, each one’s eyeshadows depicting a different look with a mirage of colors. 

“We did.” you giggled as Hoseok scrolled through the products with awe in his eyes.

“I can’t believe it, I’m so proud!” he said, pushing your phone back to you. “Was that Taehyung’s idea? The whole food/cake thing?”

“Actually, it was mine. Our top seller too. These were Tae’s. And Jungkook’s and Jimin’s.” you puffed your chest out with pride, pointing at all of the products. 

“Well I’ll be damned then. It’s beautiful.” Hoseok gave you a thumbs up. “But why is that the only thing you’ve created? Clearly you have the talent.”

“I’ve been having a lot of stress lately. With the marketing, the projections, worrying about finances with Kookie and promotional and social media with Jimin, and allowing Taehyung to experiment and create at his own free will, I guess I lost my creative spark.” you admitted with a sigh. “That’s why we’re all here. Taehyung booked us this vacation to help us relax and get the creativity flowing again, because if we don’t have another sale like Cake, we’re slowly going to go under.”

Hoseok hummed softly in understanding. 

“I guess there’s also the ‘second project’ syndrome that’s messing with my mind too. I’m afraid that whatever I design and produce with the boys won’t live up to the Cake palette’s hype. Cake sold out completely in Korea in two days, and two weeks later they were sold out internationally. Our workers were doing overtime to keep up with sales.” you continued. “I just feel stuck. Even though this place makes me feel free, I know I’ll have to return to that limbo when it’s done, and that scares me.”

“Y’know what you need?” Hoseok told you.

“What?”

“A sense of freedom.”

~*~

That’s what prompted you and the boys to stay in Hoseok’s house for the remainder of your vacation. His house was comfy enough for the five of you, and the homey touches did make you feel better than staying in an artificial hotel. 

Hoseok helped you all let go. 

Hoseok took you all to see the secrets of the mountains and canyons, the river guiding you down trails of adrenaline and clarity. The hiking brought you beautiful horizons, the cactuses providing nourishment from the source, and the river brought you splashing wars and chicken fights, of gentle floating in ravines and laying out on the red sandbars, but it also brought you adventure as the rapids licked your cheeks and flew you over rocks and mini waterfalls. And the rocks aided you all, providing stepping stones, glimpses into the wildlife’s habitat, and great heights to fall into deep pockets of water. Jimin documented it all, only posting the best pictures of your vacation to your SMS, much to Taehyung’s dissatisfaction (”Hyung! I don’t have makeup on, you can’t post that!” “But Taehyung, none of us are, we’re all barefaced.” “Yeah but you guys actually look good without makeup.”).

As Hoseok took you out more and more, your trust in him began to grow again. He showed you friendship, he showed you consistency, he showed you attentiveness and honesty, giving you his everything and anything. He jumped off the cliffs with you into the waters below, he showed you the scorpions and lizards with careful hands, gave you prickly pears and their juice when there wasn’t enough for the five of you, and he fought with you in the water against the other boys, comradery and unity forming between you both again. You both fell back into the friendship you thought you lost, and Hoseok made your heart feel light. You trusted him, from his reoccurring actions and signs of love and clarity. And you had forgiven him, understanding now how easy it would be to isolate yourself into the land of red rocks and sand, living without a care in the world as the sun stroked your back and dried your hair into knots and waves. 

The two weeks seemed to go by too fast, but you knew it happened from the looks of your sun-kissed skin and water-logged locks. A few scars and bruises also joined your skin, caused by falling out of the raft on the rapids and landing on hidden rocks beneath the water. You found yourself and the boys lounging out poolside on the last night of your vacation while Hoseok cleaned up the dinner of smoked barbeque and margaritas. You were laying out on one of Hoseok’s pool chairs with your sketch book, drawing the mountains and setting sun while watching Taehyung and Jungkook fight in the pool. Jimin sat next to you, flipping through the pictures he took that day.

“Y/N?” Jimin called. You looked up at him over the edge of your sunglasses before you heard him snap a picture. He smiled, looking up at you with sweet eyes.

“Beautiful.” he told you, showing you the picture. Your sunglasses and floppy sun hat blocked half of your face, but the edge of a smile laced your lips as Jimin captured your natural expression. You could see the base colors on your sketch pad, your coverup only barely revealing the bikini top you wore with your shorts and flip flops. Your hair was wavy from the chlorinated water you were swimming in earlier, and your cheeks were pink and speckled with sun freckles.

“You really are talented with a camera Jiminie.” you complimented him.

“It’s all you sweetie, just an au-natural Y/N. Beautiful in her natural state.” Jimin’s words made you blush, normally he wasn’t this foreword with you, his flirtation usually just reserved for Jungkook. “I’m so posting this as a teaser that we’re working creatively again.”

“Go ahead Jimin, I won’t whine about it like some people.” you said with a chuckle.

“Heard that!” Taehyung yelled before he was shoved underneath the water again by Jungkook.

“I agree with Jimin.” Hoseok was suddenly behind you, making you jump in surprise. “You look beautiful with Arizona written all over you.”

When Hoseok told you that he would be catching up on his compliments he wasn’t kidding, giving you at least one every day. You didn’t know if it was because he felt guilty or really just wanted you to feel beautiful. Whatever it was though, you appreciated it immensely, his words doing wonders to your ego and self confidence.

“I wanna show you something.” Hoseok told you. His eyes had that spark in them, and you could tell he was eager to drag you out for the rest of the night.

“Okay.”

Hoseok grinned, grabbing your hand and dragging you out the back gate of his home, taking you up the side of the mountain in his backyard. You giggled when he became too excited, almost falling off the side of the red rock with a sheepish smile, heading your advice to go just a little slower. You hiked up the path until the sun had set, following Hoseok until he pulled you away from the main path, following the curves of the rocks until he led you to a tunnel.

“Hoseok…”

“Hmm? Are you scared?” Hoseok teased, playfully pinching your sides.

“It’s really dark,” you said hesitantly, peering into the hole in the rock formation.

“C’mon, it’s safe enough, it’s like a slide.” he smiled, sitting down on the sandy gravel. “I’ll even hold you if you want. Please? It’ll be so worth it.” he held his hand out to you, the other patting the open space between his legs. You bit your lip, your eyes flickering between his expectant stare and the darkness of the tunnel. With a huff you joined him on the ground, grabbing his arms and wrapping them around you like a safety belt.

“If I die tonight, I’m blaming you Jung Hoseok.”

He chuckled, inching you both forward until you were at the mouth of the tunnel.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready.” you nodded. Suddenly, you were sliding down an endless tunnel. You could hear Hoseok’s joyful laughter over your screams of shock and then as soon as you started, you stopped, your eyes bulging at what you saw.

You were in some sort of crater in the middle of the mountain, because you could see the sky and the stars above you, creating a ceiling for the tall rock that surrounded you. But there was an oasis in the crater. It couldn’t have been more than fifteen feet wide, but around it’s bank there were little sprouts and cactuses growing, and an old blanket laying across the ground.

“Worth it?” Hoseok asked and you could hear the smugness in his voice.

“I don’t know, I think I bruised my butt on the slide down.” you joked, standing and brushing the dirt off your clothes. You moved closer to the oasis, gently running your fingers over the surface of the water; it was warmer than you thought it’d be.

“A lot of frogs breed here, honestly I think it’s the only place the tadpoles can survive in in a twenty mile radius.” Hoseok commented, crouching down next to you.

“How’d you find this place?” you asked.

“Hiking accident,” he winked. “I fell down the tunnel, slipped on some loose rock and ended up here. It was pretty in the day, but at night, you can see everything. C’mon.”

He took you to the blanket, stretching out and laying against it with his hands supporting his head. You laid down next to him, looking up at the amounts of stars shining above you. The moon added a glow to your vision, the entire little room basking a light blue haze around you both. 

“You can see everything. There’s the North star, and the Little Dipper connecting off of it,” Hoseok pointed to the sky and you followed his finger as he named every constellation you could see. You just watched him with love in your eyes; his passion was evident in the way he spoke about the stars and the region and you honestly couldn’t imagine him being anywhere else but here in this small desert town. When his voice grew silent you focused back on him and saw he was staring at you now, just like how you were absentmindedly staring at him. You blushed, chuckling softly but you didn’t look away.

“You were staring.” Hoseok pointed out.

“I know.”

“Are you still infatuated with my good looks?” he teased, turning onto his side to better face you. You turned onto your side too, making the tips of your noises almost touch. 

“Yeah, you wish.” you giggled. Hoseok gave you a half-hearted chuckle in return, his lips falling into a frown.

“I’ve been thinking a lot these past few days.” Hoseok admitted.

“About?”

“About us.” he said easily. “About what we would’ve become if I hadn’t moved. About what we would’ve been if you came out here. About what would’ve happened if we somehow, someway, stayed together.”

“Hoseok…”

“I don’t regret my actions, not at all. But sometimes I wonder what we could’ve been. Haven’t you?”

You squirmed, playing with your hands as you thought. Sure, you’ve missed Hoseok, immensely so. But you never thought about what could’ve been. The thought didn’t cross your mind after building the business and dealing with love in pain and love in patience back-to-back.

“You’re hesitating,” Hoseok chuckled, stopping your fidgeting movements so you could focus entirely on him. “Why?”

“I guess I have some issues when it comes to talking about romantic relationships now.” you chuckled. “I’ve had two complicated relationships with two different people in the past year and a half, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Y/N, it’s just me, I’m not going to get hurt by what you say. Just be honest. Don’t you trust me enough to do that? I feel offended.” Hoseok laughed and you shook your head quickly.

“No! No that’s not it! After these past weeks, I’ve grown to trust you again Hoseok. Completely with all my heart. If I’m being honest…I hadn’t really thought about us and what could’ve been. I was too busy with the business and the past love complications. I’m sorry.” you sighed. Hoseok just smiled, taking your hand in his.

“Thank you for being honest, and I’m not that surprised really. It’s been seven long years of growth for the both of us. I wouldn’t expect you to think about me that way anymore, but a guy can hope sometimes,” Hoseok laughed and the air around you both still seemed light, and for that you were grateful.

“But still, why so hesitant when talking about love? Honesty should always be the forefront, and that shouldn’t make you uneasy.” Hoseok pestered on.

“I guess I don’t trust myself enough to admit my feelings to myself or others for that matter. Really, I just want to know I actually love a person first before I start trusting myself and my emotions with them. Y’know?”

“Oh Y/N,” Hoseok chuckled, his smile lighting up your soul. “Trust is always built first to allow love to grow. I trust you…so much. You’re honest, you’re reliable, and your heart is so open for love and friendship that it makes mine pound. When you say you love someone or something, you show it to your full capacity. I can see it in the way you look at Taehyung, Jimin, Jungkook, and with me. And that’s worth everything to me, even more so that the actual feeling of love. And if I can see that, then everyone else can too. So allow yourself to trust and be honest with the people you care about, because they can see the truth within you too and will appreciate you more for talking about it.” Hoseok spewed, his eyes light and understanding.

You smiled, realizing the true extent of what Hoseok’s words meant. How trust was built for love, and how his trust equated to his love for you. You suddenly brought him in for hug, making him chuckle.

“Aww, Y/N.” Hoseok cooed, hugging you close to him.

“I love you.” you told him, pulling back to see his reaction. Hoseok’s smile just grew and he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“And I love you.” he giggled. 

“Thank you, for making this trip even more amazing than it already was.” Hoseok waved his hand absentmindedly.

“It was my pleasure. Besides, giving up a moment to hang out with you and Tae again? I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

“It’s just sad we have to leave you behind.” you pouted.

“You’re not, not really. I’ll always be here.” he said, placing his hand on your chest over where your heart was. You smiled, placing your hand over his chest as well.

“And I’ll be here with you too.” Hoseok smiled, placing a light kiss against your lips. 

It wasn’t more than a peck, like how a mother would kiss her child, but it held so much for you. So much love and understanding and light that you allowed Hoseok to do it again, and again. Until the pecks turned into a full kiss, your lips sliding together as you kissed under the lights of the stars. Hoseok pulled you close, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. His hands gripped your hips, firm and steady to keep you from physically swooning. You giggled when Hoseok bit your lip, pulling away from you with his signature heart-shaped smile. 

“Just like old times, right?” he teased and you giggled, nodding your head.

“Just like old times.”

“Maybe I’ll come out one day and visit. I can’t leave this place though, the desert is my home now.” Hoseok said, the tips of his fingers running over the top hem of your shorts, occasionally brushing the skin of your back. 

“Please? We missed you more than you know.” you chuckled.

“I promise,” he said, placing a parting kiss on your cheeks. “You’re going to make someone feel very loved someday Y/N. And you’re going to get that same love back, tenfold.”

“It’s nice of you to think so.” you laughed, playfully shoving his shoulder. 

“I know so,” he countered, his eyes growing a little wider as he spoke. “My mom always told me this whenever I mentioned love; ‘The people who trust the most, always love the most, therefore, they will always find someone who loves like they do. Because the ones who love the most, deserve someone who can keep up with them and their love for the world.’.” Hoseok paused, allowing his eyes to roam over your face, to stare into your eyes one more time before he let you go. “And honey, you deserve that kind of loving.”

[ronniesshoes]

Keep Yourself Alive

It’s ten past nine, Tuesday evening, and despite the meeting having begun not twenty minutes ago, the table is a right mess already; littered with old magazines and library books he doubts will be returned anytime soon, Freddie’s sketches and scribbles, Roger’s Macbook, and a knocked over jar of glitter that was already there when Brian got home. He supposes Roger and John might have something to do with it, because there’s a fair amount of glitter in the bassist’s hair, and a speck just beneath Roger’s left eye.

“Okay, so, stagewear,” Freddie says, holding up his index finger as if about to start counting, and Brian, having been designated as scribe, starts scribbling, “and, no matter if we get signed or not, ideas on how to promote the next album. Personally I think we might as well go full glam, because as of now it seems like we are unsure of what’s going on ourselves. Anything else?”

John’s eyes drift towards the ceiling, and Roger, brow furrowed, is drumming a pen against his thigh. Brian reaches out to stop him.

“Well?”

“The website is still not up and running,” Roger begins slowly, having now begun to draw small triangles on the thigh of his jeans, “and we should probably talk about who’s in charge of social media as well, because as of now, the few people who actually write to us may never get back a reply.”

Freddie nods. “Right, yes, the banner is almost done, and you’re right about social media. Brian, what about your friend, what’s his name?”

“Daniel. He promised to get back to me before next week,” he says, making a mental note to do a follow up tomorrow.

“Good. Let’s start with stagewear, shall we?”

Brian drops his head in hand, attempting to hide his smile. Dressing his band for concerts and photo shoots is no doubt one of Freddie’s favourite pastimes, right up with researching Oscar Wilde and trying to persuade them to get another cat.

“I like these,” John says, holding up two of Freddie’s sketches of different batwing costumes which he has been examining, “on you two, at least. I’m thinking it would look really good on stage.”

“I looked at some of Zandra Rhodes’ designs,” Freddie says, reaching for one of the books, “obviously she does a lot with colour, but look at this wedding dress, for example. Imagine very large sleeves with pleats like that, how great a visual effect we could achieve. I’m sure I could ask Mary to make something like that.”

“I think it’s great, it goes well with the whole black and white theme we’ve got going,” Roger says.

“So we’re keeping that?”

“Didn’t they wear lots of colours back then?” Brian wonders aloud, trying to recall the pictures Roger and Freddie have shown him on various occations.

“They did, but to be perfectly honest, things like coloured satin and sequins and the like looks rather cheap to me,” Freddie says with distaste.

“Basically we’re taking the best of glam and ignoring the things we don’t like,” Roger says, tipping his chair back.

“Yes, but what I don’t understand is why we haven't had a glam revival yet,” Freddie says, sitting up straighter, “today’s rock scene is so ... insipid; really, it’s the perfect time to spice it up a bit of flamboyance, to provoke and to provide a bit of fun in a time where music has sounded pretty much the same for the past three decades. And, I mean, I understand the importance of the movement back in the 70s, but most of the performers who dressed up and did the whole androgynous thing were straight men, and now we have the opportunity to create a space where actual queer artists can express themselves. I mean, how often do you hear someone like Jobriath mentioned?”

Despite the rhetorical question, Roger shrugs, expression bemused. John purses his lips.

“So obviously we’ll have to find a new drummer,” Brian says, lazily adding to his stick figure portrait of only drummer present, already wearing a hat atop significantly longer locks and dressed in a tutu.

Roger opens his mouth to retort, but Freddie is quicker. “Don’t worry, dear, a dash of glitter and a haircut like Brian Connolly, and no one will notice!”

That comment makes John snorts into the crook of his elbow, and Roger looks like he's not sure whether to feel indignant or to laugh.

“The token straight,” Brian continues with a sigh, merely laughing when Roger socks him in the arm. Ziggy, disturbed by the commotion, hops down from the armchair he’s been sleeping in for the past hours, and starts rubbing his head against Freddie’s leg until the singer starts petting him.

“We can’t really go fully glam with short hair, though,” John points out, and they all fall silent, exchanging tentative glances.

“I suppose it’s not uncommon to see guys with long hair anymore,” Roger says after a while, “I do have a some trouble imagining it, though.”

He’s not the only one; every long haired guy Brian can recall seeing has been a whole other type, one he doubts any of them fits, especially not if they are going to adopt the glam style, which in and of itself is way out of Brian’s comfort zone. It may be less of a trouble for Freddie, who already owns a fair few pieces from that era, and generally dresses more or less glam already, if perhaps a bit more subtly, and Roger, who gladly lets Freddie dress him, and whose style spans from pretentious art kid to burnt out rock n’ roll star to a walking Adidas ad, and that despite not having engaged in any kind of sports since leaving Cornwall as far as Brian is aware.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Freddie says, “we should give it a go.”

“As long as I’m allowed to keep my hair as it is,” Brian says, suppressing a grimace at the thought of himself with long hair.

“What, no! If we’re all growing our hair out, you’ll have to do it as well,” Roger protests.

“Not with curly hair," he says, going for patience but finding it hard to, "I’ll end up with an afro, and I doubt that’s the look we’re trying to achieve.”

“It looked fine on Bolan!”

“Don’t know who he is, and it doesn’t matter anyway, I won’t do it,” he says, ignoring Roger’s outraged expression. He reaches for his Mac, punches the keyboard buttons, and shoves the screen into Brian’s face, showing a pretty faced guitarist who indeed works both long and curly hair.

“See?” Roger urges, a slightly manic expression on his face, “and Jimmy Page! You practically drool every time you see a picture of him, how can you doubt that curls and long hair don’t go together?”

“I would’ve phrased it differently, but I have to agree with Roger, dear, almost everyone wore their hair long in the 70s, and no doubt it will look good on you, too.”

“John and Freddie have curly hair as well, you know,” Roger offers, like he’s being helpful.

“Not the same,” he says, but when even John’s usually neutral expression shifts just slightly enough to convey his opinion on the matter, Brian knows he's lost. “All right, fine. I’ll complain, though, and if it looks stupid, I’ll cut it short again.”

He pointedly ignores the way Roger’s face fills with glee and Freddie looks pleased, opting instead to exchange glances with John, who merely lifts one eyebrow a fraction, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Right,” he says, looking down at his notepad, “promotion?”

“Yes, right,” Freddie says, pausing for a second as if about to reveal some no doubt grand, but probably a bit mad, idea, a slightly worrying glint in his eyes, “I’m thinking a nude photo shoot for—”

“You’re thinking a what?” Brian interrupts, certain he’s heard wrong. Roger also looks uncertain, John plain uncomfortable.

“A nude photo shoot, of course,” Freddie repeats, like it’s no big deal.

Brian hides his face in his hands, wondering not for the first time how he's survived living with these maniacs for this long.

“I think Stones did that for Sticky Fingers though,” Roger says, and Brian looks up to see him already tapping on his keyboard.

“What?” Freddie exclaims, looking mildly outraged, “let me see.”

“No, sorry, it’s only Mick,” he replies, handing his laptop to Freddie, “I remembered it as all of them.”

“Well, I’m thinking more along the lines of Performance, now you mention him. Only less hippie and more stylish, you know.”

“We still haven’t seen it, Fred,” Brian says, because it’s not the first time Freddie has referred to a weird art film, and especially Performance he has talked about a lot for a movie he claims to hate.

��You don’t have to,” Freddie says dismissively, “you wouldn’t like it anyway, but here, look.” He turns the laptop so they can all see the picture of Mick Jagger, seemingly naked, reclining on a large bed. A moment later, Roger gets up and disappears into the kitchen.

“I want us all in the nude, sprawled on a large bed with expensive sheets and a bottle of champagne,” Freddie continues, raising his voice enough for Roger to hear.

“So just an ordinary day, then?” Roger asks as he return with more beers, making John laugh and Freddie hide his teeth.

“And why exactly is it that we have to be naked for this to be glam?” he asks after a moment. John, newly-brought beer can to his lips, shoots him a glance, and Brian thinks he looks relieved.

“It’s provocative, and that’s all I’m about, dear, you know that. God knows that it shouldn’t be, but here we are. Obviously you don’t have to be naked, it just has to look like you are.”

"Fred, I don't—"

“Oh, I know, Fleetwood Mac definitely had a picture taken where they were all in bed,” Roger interrupts.

“Roger,” Freddie says, tone saccharine, but when the drummer turns to look at him, he chucks a piece of crumbled up paper at him, “shut up.”

“But we’re trying to sell music, Fred, not ourselves,” Brian tries to reason, “I know you want us to be outrageous, but to be honest I can’t really see the point.”

“Of course we’re trying to sell ourselves,” Roger says, looking up from where he’s been inspecting the tattoo on his right wrist, “that’s the whole point, isn’t it? I mean, no one’s asking you to get your cock out on stage, but I agree with Freddie that it’s possible to do this with taste. Personally I think it’s a good idea.”

“You just want an excuse to show off,” Brian grumbles, annoyed that the two of them always gang up on him, “like we don’t see more than enough of you already.”

“Brian,” Freddie warns.

“I don’t— what are you talking about?”

“Forget it,” he says, working hard to keep his voice level, “if you really want to, I suppose there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Well,” Roger says after a beat, looking uncertain, “what do you think, John?”

“The four of us sprawled naked on a big bed might be a bit much,” he allows, “but I don’t see anything wrong with having pictures taken from the waist and up, for example. It comes down to the photographer as well. Did you have anyone in mind, Fred?”

“I thought maybe Tim, he’s been doing lots of weird art films lately, I’m sure he would be happy to do it if he’s not busy.”

Brian nods along with the others and quickly scans the bullets on his pad. “Should we keep our music on Soundcloud or extend it to Youtube as well? We all know Roger’s opinion on the matter, but what do you two say?

“It might be easier to share new songs on Facebook,” John says, “it looks neater with actual videos, but unless we keep it up to date and reply when people comment it just looks unprofessional and has the potential to do more harm than good.”

“John is right, and Roger mentioned it earlier as well, we need become better at checking up on social media,” Freddie agrees.

Brian caps and uncaps his pen. “Any volunteers?”

“As long as you check up on it once in awhile as well, I suppose I wouldn’t mind too much,” Roger offers.

“Great,” Freddie says, “now, does everyone have an outfit for the concert at King's College?”

“I don’t,” John says. Brian dips a finger in some of the glitter still on the table and carefully inspects it.

“Come down to the stall Friday, we’ll find you something,” Freddie promises. “Roger, I’ve seen yours already, Brian? Not gonna show up in one of those awful shirts, are you? I age ten years every time you wear one in public.”

Brian rolls his eyes, about to say a thing or two about some of the singer’s more outlandish clothes, but he holds his tongue. “No, Fred.”

He looks at his notepad again. “So I’ll call Daniel, Freddie will talk to Tim, Roger is responsible for social media, and John ... please turn it down a notch with Bonnie Tyler while you shower. It’s a bit disconcerting.”

“I’ll try to keep it down,” John offers, a smile tugging on his lips when Roger lets out a snort of laughter.

"If that's all, I'm off to bed," Freddie says, pushes his chair back, and stands. He pauses for a moment, looks at the table, and adds, "I hope this mess is gone tomorrow", before he disappears into their bedroom, Ziggy close on his heels.

♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛

It’s completely dark outside when he stumbles out of bed some hours later, half asleep still, but he barely registers it, his only thought revolving around the pressure on his bladder. It takes lots of fumbling before he finds the light switch, and when he does, the sudden light is too bright, and he has to screw his eyes shut again. He somehow succeeds in shoving down his pyjama bottoms and pushing up the toilet seat without ever opening his eyes, but he doesn’t trust himself enough to have a go at it and end up missing the bowl, and so he tentatively opens one eye, inwardly cursing himself for drinking those extra beers.

It is as he’s making his way back that he notices faint noises coming from the living room, and despite his desire to get back to bed as quickly as possible, he stops to push open the door to blearily peek in. Roger is there—or at least his blond head of messy hair is—huddled up in a corner of the couch watching A Clockwork Orange for the umpteenth time. Brian steps into the room, and Roger turns, startled by the creak of the floorboards, before his face quickly morphs into a smile.

“Why aren't you in bed?” he asks, and Brian waves a hand towards the bathroom with a grunt, too tired to form a proper sentence. Roger seems to understand, but there’s an amused smile playing on his lips. He decides to ignore it, and instead sinks onto the couch, his whole body melting into the soft, worn cushions.

He thinks about staying here for a while, because the couch really is soft, and conveniently enough he’s already sitting on it, whereas his bed is in another room, and now his eyes are falling shut anyway. If only he had something to support his head on, because the back rest really is too low and, weird, it never struck him how bony it feels, not at all like the rest of it, and ...

“Wanna lie down?” At the sound of Roger’s voice he looks up, and, wow, he has got a lot of hair. Finally registering the question, he lifts his head from where it appears to have settled on Roger’s shoulder, and nods, once, before shifting back to lie down with his head in the drummer’s lap. Only for a moment, though, then he is going back to bed. Said moment passes, and then Roger's hand comes down to thread through his hair, and no, he is definitely okay with staying here. For a while he tries to focus on the movie, but his eyes are heavy and stinging and keep falling shut. The scenes from the movie are in his head, created by memory and sounds, and even though Roger's thigh could've been softer, there are certainly less comfortable places to rest. If only it wasn't so cold, he thinks, and he really does want to open his eyes and go back to bed, it’s just so, so far away. Roger shifts underneath him then and removes his hand, and Brian tries to communicate his displeasure with a small noise in the back of his throat. A moment later, something warm and soft is draped over his body, and Roger's hand returns, lightly massaging his scalp with calloused fingertips. A minute or less, for sure, later, and Roger's voice, soft and gentle albeit somewhat distant, sounds, and then he's manipulated into first sitting up and then standing, and with the blanket around his shoulders he is dimly aware of the fact that he is being lead into his room, too dazed to even realise he is walking, before he falls into bed with a warm sort of gratefulness. ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛

The next morning, early but not too early in case he’s sleeping in, he calls Daniel. Brian doesn’t actually know the guy, except that he attends the same course as Brian, and that he has a knack for setting up websites. He has been very sweet and helpful about it all, but they haven’t even discussed a price yet, and the whole thing makes Brian stressed and unsure and a bit nauseous. When he gets the answering machine, it’s with equal measures of relief and exasperation that he throws his phone on his bed and gathers his books to finish his assigned readings. The kitchen is blissfully quiet, Freddie having left half an hour ago and John and Roger most certainly not up yet. It’s with some envy that he thinks of this, because his body is stiff and heavy from lack of sleep, but before readings and phone calls and his afternoon lecture are well over, he can’t justify going back to bed.

Two hours later and halfway done, he is just contemplating whether to take a break when the door at the far end of the living room opens and the rhythm section appears, both bleary-eyed in bare legs and jumpers and with their hair mussed from sleep, John wearing two different socks as usual and Roger only wearing one. “Good morning,” Roger says around a yawn, even though it’s closer to noon. Still, they’re up unusually early considering. “Morning,” he replies, “you’re up early.” “The bloody neighbours started having sex again,” Roger complains, flicking on the kettle and reaching for two cups. “They’re pensioners,” John explains, “suppose they don’t hear very well.” “They could at least close the window. It’s november, bloody freezing anyway,” Roger says, dumping tea bags into the cups, “can barely look them in the eye when I meet them. You want tea as well?” “Please,” he says, handing over his empty mug before returning to his work. “Do you actually colour code your stuff?” Roger asks a while later, so close to his ear it makes him jump. “It’s what I imagine Freddie does because he thinks it looks pretty.” “He does,” John confirms. “I don’t do it because it looks pretty, I do it because it helps me stay organized. You should try it sometime,” he says pointedly. “What, being organized?” Roger yawns, “nah, never works. I find comfort in chaos.” “Unless you’re late and can’t find your earphones,” John says, filling up a bowl with granola until it’s almost overflowing. “Or your phone,” Brian adds. “Okay, but everyone loses their phone once in awhile, that doesn’t mean I don’t know exactly where every other thing in my room is.” “Under your bed,” John says. “Exactly,” Roger says, pointing his spoon at John like he’s the one who really gets it. Which he probably is, because he’s not much better. He tries to return to his readings once again, but the two of them together make for a pretty big distraction, even when he does his best to stay out of the conversation. He picks up the tea Roger made him and reads the same line over and over again until his head is swimming and he starts thinking about everything on his to-do list. “Are you up for practise later?” John asks around a spoonful of granola, pulling him from his thoughts. “Sure,” he says, and dies a little inside. It's when they've finally buggered off that he realises just how tense he's feeling. He rolls his neck and shoulders, trying to work out some of the tension, but it only serves to make him even more aware of the stiffness. He idly wonders if a good, long wank is what he needs, but quickly decides that hoping to be left alone long enough is unrealistic. He doesn't fancy doing it in the shower, his body not responding to being naked the same way it does when he's in bed, but unless Roger has a lecture, even a few hours alone very unlikely to happen. John and Freddie both work Wednesdays, so it's practically the only day of the week where there’s a slight chance he can get some time for himself, but most often the drummer is there to keep him company. And it’s not as if he doesn’t like to spend time with him, but he really is not at all like Roger who thrives off company, and sometimes all that socialising is a bit much. Sighing, he packs up his stuff, saves his notes for the thirteenth time, and closes his laptop. He drains the rest of tea, long gone cold now, and allows himself a minute to just sit. He tries one of Freddie’s meditation techniques, but immediately feels stupid and stops. It would just be his luck for John or Roger to walk in on him. As it happens, Roger does have a lecture, and appears again half an hour later, smartly dressed which means the girl he fancies is going to be there, grabs a bottle of juice from the fridge, and hangs around for a good five minutes to chat. “Didn’t you have a lecture?” he hints when it becomes clear that Roger has lost all track of time during his not particularly asked for review on the new Roger Waters album. Roger stops mid-sentence, lets out a laugh, and puts on his shoes, waving at him before disappearing outside. Appreciating the near-silence immensely, Brian goes back to brainstorming his next paper. John appears again a while after to make another cup of tea, but he doesn't strike up conversation, and for the next half an hour, Brian manages to fill three pages in his notebook. Satisfied with his work, he puts it away and mentally goes through the rest of his tasks. There's that phone call again, which he supposes he can't really put off any longer, and afterwards there's lunch, and then he thinks he should be able to squeeze in a wank before he leaves for uni. “Right, I’m off,” John announces, patting his coat pockets, “see you later.” “See you. Have a nice shift!” John thanks him and leaves, and Brian is left alone. No point in putting it off any longer. He walks back to his room to get his phone and lies back on his bed, scrolling through his contacts until he finds Daniel’s number. While waiting for him to pick up, Brian eyes wander to the large poster of a deliciously sweaty Jimmy Page on the opposite wall. He thumbs at the hem of his trousers, his own cold fingers making him shiver when he brushes against the bare skin of his stomach. “Hello?” Daniel says, and Brian almost drops his phone, guiltily snatching his hand away. “Hi, uhm, hi,” he says, immediately feeling stupid, “sorry to bother you, but you never called me back, and—” “Right, yes, sorry about that. It’s just about done, I thought we could look over it after the lecture today if you’re not busy?” “No, that would be great, thank you.” “Alright, Brian, see you in a couple of hours.” “Yeah, alright. Bye!” Embarrassed by his lack of social skills, he finds that he’s not particularly horny anymore, and so deems it to be too much work. Glancing at his watch, he finds that he still has an hour to kill before leaving for class, and so he retreats to the studio and picks up his guitar, relaxing properly for the first time that day. ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛

“Yes, mum— No, I told you today is not so good,” he says, phone pressed against his ear as he steps up the stairs from the Tube, “but I don’t work Saturday, how’s that?”

“The Parkers are visiting, dear, I told you so the last time we spoke,” mum says.

“Right, sorry—”

“Are you sure you can’t come by today? Surely the guys won’t be cross with you for skipping band practise this once, I imagine they have mums who miss them, too.”

“It’s not just band practise,” he says, weaving through the crowd and wishing he was home already, “and I can’t skip, mum, I already agreed— hold on.”

He passes a group of construction workers drilling, and returns to the phonecall.

“What about tomorrow? I finish work early.”

He will have to move a few things around, and stay up after practise to rewrite his lecture notes, but there’s that.

“Oh yes,” mum thrills, “how’s it going with, what’s his name?”

“Louis,” he says, narrowly avoiding bumping into an old woman, “and it’s going fine. But mum—”

“Louis, that’s right. You know, I talked to Deborah, and I told her you started tutoring recently, and she’s looking for someone to help her son with maths, and I told her that I’m sure you’d love to, but she’d have to call you herself to make an arrangement, so I gave her your number, and—”

“Mum,” he says, unable to keep the slightly whiny tone from his voice, “I appreciate you trying to set me up with more work, but I’ve got enough on my plate as it is, and I’m not sure I have the time.”

“Of course, dear, but you know it would really help them a lot, and it’s only twenty minutes by the Underground.”

“Right,” he says. Twenty minutes to the station, and then he has to walk for twenty more to get to their house if memory serves him well. “I’ll think about, but I really can’t promise anything.”

“Oh, she’ll be thrilled,” mum says.

“Bri?” someone calls, and he spins around to see John a few blocks down.

He waves at him and says to mum, “how was tomorrow for you? I can probably be there around five-ish, is that alright?”

“Five is perfect. Dad will be happy to see you, I know he has quite a lot to talk to you about. In fact—”

“No, Mum, sorry, but John’s here, I really have to go now. Please tell dad I said hi, and then I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

“See you tomorrow. Tell John hello from me!”

“I will,” he says, just as John catches up with him, “bye, mum!”

“Wanted you to skip practise?” John guesses as Brian lets out a sigh.

“Like always,” he says, smiling in spite of himself. “How was work?”

“It was all right,” John says mildly, “did you talk to that Daniel?”

“Yes, he showed me how to set it up and everything, it looks really good,” he says, following John up the stairs to the flat.

“Seems like everything’s coming together then,” John replies, opening the door to the flat and the music coming from inside.

It’s Roger singing and playing Don’t Play Your Rock and Roll, which Brian has only ever heard him sing in the shower, and that only once or twice. “It’s not half bad,” he says genuinely, toeing off his shoes.

“What’s more baffling,” John says, not sounding baffled at all, “is how the two of them manage to play all three instruments at once.”

Brian is surprised to discover he is right - it’s a slightly stripped down version of the original, but never mind that, he already has trouble wrapping his head around the fact that they indeed are playing both drums, guitar, and bass. “How are they doing that?”

John shrugs and pushes his boots to the side with his foot. He’s wearing a sock patterned with pink octopuses, Brian notices. The other has The Great Wave off Kanagawa on it.

He follows John into the living room just as the door to the studio opens and Roger comes bouncing out, waving the drumsticks still in his hands. “Oi, there you are! Thought I heard you!”

“How did you—” he begins, but then Freddie and Tim both appear, Tim with John’s bass hanging from around his neck, and the pieces fall into place.

“Tim! How are you?”

“I’m good, I’m good. Just stopped by to pick up the drinks dispenser.“ He looks at John, “I hope it’s okay I borrowed your bass.”

“Of course,” John says, dodging Roger’s attempt at putting his arms around him. “Roger, stop, you’re all sweaty.”

“Tim,” Roger says, dragging out his name, “this is our new and better bass player, Deacon John. John Deacon. Deaky.”

“I know, Roger,” Tim replies with great patience, “I’ve known him for two years.”

This apparently strikes Roger as terribly funny, because he starts laughing so hard that no sound comes out and John has to hold him upright, all the while trying his best not to smile.

“Who let him have sugar?” Brian asks, watching with slight worry as Roger gasps for breath.

“Tesco had a 3 for 2 offer on all sweets,” Freddie replies, and knowing Roger’s absolute weakness for Tesco offers and sugar in general, Brian thinks this explains it very well.

Roger, seemingly able to breathe again, brightly offers to get the last bag to share, but luckily, everyone reclines.

“I was actually about to leave,” Tim says, “did you want me to have a look at your ideas for a photo shoot before I go?”

“That would be great,” Brian says, “Fred?”

“Right, yes,” he begins, before launching into a detailed description of his idea, one that impossibly enough involves even more nudity than the night before. He opens the door to their bedroom, and they all follow him inside. “I’m thinking my bed,” he says, gesturing to his god-awful rococo bed, “it’s as big as Brian’s but much nicer.”

“I see,” Tim says, tone neutral.

Roger, now looking bored, and clearly on the way down from his sugar rush, looks like he is strongly considering lying down on either bed. Brian takes a step to the side, blocking his own.

“I’m afraid I don’t have time the next couple of weeks, but things slow down quite a bit for me after the 1st,” Tim says, “I’ll get back to you, yeah?”

Hugs and claps on the back are exchanged then, and soon after Tim leaves with the drinks dispenser in hand, and another promise to stay in touch. 

♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ ♛ Thursday morning sees Brian waking slowly, reluctantly, stirred from sleep by melancholic piano play he instantly recognises but doesn't remember. Eyes still closed, his attention is stubbornly focused on the warmth of his covers, the way his sleep-heavy body merely exist in this warm cocoon that is his bed. When he finally opens one eye—the song he now recognises as Für Elise still playing— Freddie is sitting in his bed, looking sleepy rather than tired, and lets the music play instead of turning the alarm off right away.

"Good morning," he says, and Brian's murmured remark gets lost somewhere between his lips and pillow. "It's nice, this, isn't it?" Freddie continues, wriggling out of his pyjamas and turning down the heat before reaching up to crack the window open. Brian pulls his duvet tighter around him. "Better than his 5th, definitely," he says, watching as Freddie rummages through his closet, "or that awful one, Rossini I think it was." Freddie's sudden interest in classical music and insistence to use a new piece every day for his alarm the past month has at times been trying, and while some of it is quite nice, Brian is unable to enjoy any kind of music before breakfast and two cups of coffee, and that's no matter how great a masterpiece it supposedly is. Freddie laughs. "Never seen you up so fast." He grimaces. "'m not a morning person." Nine months of living together, and it still seems necessary to point out ever so often. He envies John and Roger at times, because their sleeping arrangement seems to work quite well. While Freddie is in the shower, Brian lies in bed, face buried in his pillow, torn between getting up and go about the day, and staying in his bed, the internal struggle an as important part of his day as his morning coffee and Freddie's shower first thing in the morning. At last he gets up, albeit reluctantly, and if only to shut the window. Throwing on a warm sweater, he heads into the living room. John and Roger are there, still playing Mario Kart by the looks—and sounds—of it, just like they did when he went to bed last night. There's a crumbled bag of Walker's crisps under the sofa, and John is chewing on a strawberry lance, a concentrated look on his face. “Morning,” he greets. Receiving no answer, he tries instead, “have any of you fed the cat?” “I think Freddie did,” Roger replies distractedly, before letting out a shout of “bastard!" Brian checks Ziggy’s bowl and puts on the kettle, leaning against the counter while idly watching the other two play. "So who's winning?" he asks, already knowing the answer. "Not Roger," John says, face arranged in a carefully blank expression, but there's a smile in his voice, which breaks onto his face when Roger elbows him in the side. "Did you eat at all?" he asks, looking through the cupboard in search of coffee. "A bag of Cheese and Onion," Roger replies before throwing his whole body to the left to avoid crashing into another player. "Maybe you should get some sleep," he suggests, blowing at his tea. "I just need to win, just one more time." John keeps quiet, and races past the goal line. While waiting for the water to boil, Brian takes out his phone to check his university email. There’s a new one from one of his favourite professors, but he rarely ever writes emails. Curious, he opens it, leaning back against the counter while waiting for it to load. He glances at John and Roger who is finally turning off the TV, and when he looks at his screen again, a rather long mail has appeared. He scans the contents of it rather quickly, at once filled with excitement and quite a bit of nausea. “Fuck,” he whispers, just as Freddie enters the room, dressed in a kimono and drying his hair with a towel. “You alright, dear? You look terribly pale.” “No, I—” he begins, dimly aware of John and Roger turning to peer curiously at him as well, “my professor, he wants me to be a part of a team going to Tenerife.”

Next

[smile-smile-ichthys]

Out of Office Drama: Fancy Feet

(First part RPed between me and @hifftn)

Jazz filed the new profile away and sighed, turned the laptop off and leaned back in her chair. She had already found some suitable marriage candidates for Alberto and there wasn’t even a hint of wistfulness. They only had a one night stand after all, they hadn’t been in love. But she did like him, back then and now. Nonetheless she was somehow relieved that H didn’t have to write a report on him; it felt somehow tasteless to basically ‘share’ lovers. Although Jazz had shared quite a bit, mostly with Miho, but obviously all MJS girls had something with Baba at some point and Rose had her own history with Kyobashi. 

But Alberto? He wasn’t part of the MJS staff like Baba and Kyobashi; he was someone Jazz wanted to keep for herself. At least in her memories. She grabbed her phone and called H, after all she still owed her a proper explanation. And now, with the ball H was invited to, Jazz had an opportunity to spent time with her again, if only for dress shopping.

“H? Hi, do you have time later? I’m fed up with work for now, do you want to go shopping today?”

"Dude I am there, I have like no dressed here and I need a proper one if I'm gonna go to that ball thing! I'll meet you in an hour? I can grab the train and meet you in town" H said almost instantly, she was so ready for a shopping fest to get the dress she desperately needed, but also, she deserved to have an explanation for why she was asked to leave so suddenly when that butler arrived.

"I'll see you in a bit yeah?" She hung up and grabbed her bag, this was gonna be good!

With a smile Jazz got up and grabbed her bag, told Izumi she was going out and left the office. She just knew the perfect store to buy a beautiful, yet affordable dress for H. And a nice little café where they could talk a bit afterwards. 

After everything they had been through lately Jazz considered H almost a little sister, maybe because of their similar heritage, maybe just because the young woman was so cheerful and lovable. So, when they met up, Jazz hugged H and grinned.

“Come on, let’s find you something that will leave them all speechless.” "Ok but I want it to be classy, if this butler prick is gonna be there I want to show him that I ain't no slut and I have class" H laughed, linking arms with her. She really had started to care about Jazz, more than just a boss, she just clicked with her. She felt like she could be truly honest and open with her, and thanks to Jazz, she had made some genuine friends at work, people who cared about her...it was a nice change. 

"Oh you know, maybe something blue or green!" H piped up as they reached the little boutique.

“Blue. With your eyes and your hair colour blue would just be perfect.” And a deep blue was always classy. Jazz immediately flagged down a sales assistant and told her to bring some ball gowns while Jazz and H browsed through the racks of beautiful dresses. 

“I actually have some sapphire earrings and a necklace you could borrow if you like,” Jazz mused loudly. “Nothing too fancy, just one small gem in silver setting.” One of the few gifts from Ai that Jazz had kept – mostly because it simply looked fabulous on her.

"Thanks, I may take you up on that offer" she smiled, looking over the dresses until the assistant brought a few over.

"Hmm, that's too low cut, but that ones nice!" She took the blue dress off the assistant and turned it around on the hanger "once we've found a dress you will tell me about that butler dude you didn't want me to know about, right?" She asked, curiosity was quickly getting the better of her. Who was he? How did he know Jazz? Man she'd been around the block, something H looked up to. Jazz laughed. 

“Sure, you get the full report,” she happily said, waggling her eyebrows. “But first things first. Try that one and this one here. I like the unobtrusive beading. Not too flashy but not too plain. What do you think about layers and gatherings?” 

With H’s body it shouldn’t be too hard to find something that made her look amazing, so Jazz was confident that this wouldn’t take long after all. H looked over the dress, nodding happily.

"Sure, yep, I shall try this one, won't be a minute!" She grinned, running off to the dressing room.

It didn't take long to find a one she liked. The beaded one was just too lovely to pass on, so she whipped out her purse and purchased it, both of them heading to the cafe Jazz had picked out.

"Thanks for the help, dresses aren't exactly something I wear too often out of work, I appreciate the help" she said.

“You’re more than welcome. You know, when I feel down, really, really down, I go and try on evening gowns. I don’t know why, but that always cheers me up.” Jazz knew it was silly but hey, everyone had their little quirks. And it was definitely better than drinking.

“So, you and Takao are going to impress the royals, huh? I bet he looks great in a smoking hot suit. That broad back and he’s so tall…” Jazz sighed dreamily. “You will look so good together.”

She knew that H had no romantic interest in Takao, but she could still state obvious facts. 

“And try not to rip that butler’s head off. As far as I heard he serves a rather difficult master. Although that doesn’t excuse his behaviour towards you. Nothing can excuse that.”

"Oh damn right he's gonna look so hot in a suit" H laughed. She loved Takao, very much so and she really hoped that she could possibly set him up with someone, he deserved it after what he goes through every day with the MJS girls. Maybe she'd ask him what he likes in a woman at the party. 

"Right, if that butler does my head in, I won't hold back, don't care what kind of 'master' he serves" she huffed, but soon smirked "talking of butlers, who was that guy who came into your office? Do tell!"

Jazz sighed. She had promised to tell H after all. 

“Alberto is the butler of the Altarian crown prince. We met a couple of years ago, right after I found out about Ai… anyway, I was still working as event manager and one day I had to organize a party for the prince. It ended in a small catastrophe and when I drowned my frustration in a glass of wine Alberto kept my company and – cheered me up.” 

She grinned and stirred in her cup of cappuccino – decaf, of course. H just smirked, smiled, grinned, everything you could think of as she listened, hands holding up her chin on the table.

"Oh he cheered you up alright" she said "so that's why I didn't get him as a client, you already knew what to write in his report, that's fair enough" she sipped her own drink "so, any other butlers you've done?" She laughed heartily. If she'd done one, maybe she'd done a few more, maybe she would get the details out of her eventually. "What was he like?!"

“He was – intense. Not the serving kind, if you catch my drift. Demanding. And oh so good. Just what I needed back then. But we both knew it was just sex so I was fine when he left the next morning. We didn’t stay in touch and I would have never thought of him again if he hadn’t walked into my office.” 

Jazz shrugged. “But I do want to find him the perfect match.” She eyed the cakes in the showcase and sighed, but opted against a sugary treat.

“As for your other question, Alberto is actually not the only butler in my personal log. There was the butler of the Oresian crown prince, he was a client but cancelled his contract after the simulation. I managed to make him confess his love to his childhood friend. And back in Europe I actually met another butler, he was very shy and sweet and we were both still young… nothing serious happened, only a few kisses before my student exchange ended and I had to go back home. I was heartbroken and I think so was he. Well, and you met Jan and took care of him before I had to. That’s my butler experience so far. I met some very nice ones – unlike you, huh?”

"Been seriously making your rounds" H laughed once again, almost imagining what her butler was like in bed. Intense? After what she could remember of his face, yeah she could vision that. Damn, she missed out. 

"But yeah, at least you've had good experiences, I mean Jan was a perfect first client, and I'm so happy he has someone!" She grinned like a 5 year old, she  was happy for him, it warmed her heart hearing back from him about it all "but yeah, this dick one...not so much" ordering a slice of cake, knowing she wanted some, not letting her argue as she ordered a large slice for them to share. "Just hope he behaves at this ball"

Over their shared slice of cake Jazz thought about something Alberto had told her.

“You know, he’s a pretty young butler. Still has to prove his worth… that’s what I heard at least. And still he is fiercely loyal to those close to him. What a pity his head seems only to serve the purpose of hosting his hair instead of his brain. His heart seems to be in the right place…”

"Hmm" H was unconvinced, sure he was young, younger than she was, but saying the things he had said...it got to her, hurt her, more than she let on to Jazz and the others. She picked at the cake, letting Jazz have more than her, while she thought of the ginger prick. Maybe having a tough master like that would affect you, but even when she had bad managers, bosses...even that bad time before moving here she never spoke to people like that. Ugh, it was all so difficult, but she still smiled at Jazz, happy she told her about Alberto. "So do you think you'll find Alberto someone soon?"

“Like I said, it’s no excuse for saying those awful things. And if I ever meet him I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind. I just wonder what would make a young man like him say stuff like that. You know, I talked about him with Jan and Alberto… it doesn’t seem to fit him, that’s what they said at least. But he was a jerk to you and that leaves him in a bad light.”

She took a fork full of the cake and chewed it thoroughly. 

“You are right, let’s talk about something else. Something more pleasant. I already have someone for Alberto in mind. He already has the first profile and I will send him another one soon.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I was so thankful Jazz had helped me get a dress, and lent me some jewellery, I wasn't really any good at those sorts of things, so pulling it on I smiled at how pretty I looked in the mirror. Oh, heads would turn. But I was still just looking forward to coming back to bed after the evening, just hoped that there would be at least decent food since I hadn't eaten since lunch.

As I was checking the time, my flat buzzer buzzed, Takao was outside, so I grabbed my little bag, fixed my hair once more before heading outside to meet him.

Damn, Jazz and I were right, Takao did look good in a suit! Tall, extremely handsome, it made me wonder why no other girl had snapped him up yet. "You look beautiful, ready to go?" He asked, offering me his arm, which I took. "Thank you, you look incredibly handsome" I grinned up at him as he lead me to the car we had been given.

Takao helped me inside and then slid in himself. We were silent for a moment until I finally broke it.

"So why don't you have a girlfriend yet?" I asked.

"Huh? Oh, I guess I haven't found the right girl yet" he said nonchalantly. "What kind of girl do you like?" And I began my interrogation.

When the car finally pulled up, Takao quickly exited to grab the door for me, such a gentleman, but it wasn’t Takao who greeted me as I stepped out. And I had a better idea what girl he liked, challenge accepted.

“Pleasure to see you again miss” the elder butler, Aleck was it? Gently bowed to me. Takao just missed out in opening the door, but he did take my hand to help me out.

“Oh, erm, thanks, didn’t have to” I said to Aleck, giving Takao a quick smile. “You are our honoured guests tonight, it is only fair you get treated as such” Aleck explained “his highness wishes for you to give him an audience later, would that be alright?”

“I’m sure it will” Takao said kindly.

“Thank you, if you would follow my grandson sir, he will take you to the cloakroom” Takao nodded and followed Luke who had suddenly appeared behind him “my lady, would you come with me?”

“Sure?” I let Takao follow Luke while I followed Aleck into the ballroom. “I wish to personally apologise for my grandsons behaviour and words to you” he said, oh so that’s what the whole splitting up thing was about “I genuinely did not raise him to say such things to a woman, everyone is free to do as they like and we are the last people who should judge”

“Especially since he doesn’t know me” I blurted out “Oh sorry!” Aleck laughed kindly.

“I fully agree miss, hence why my apology, I was mortified when I found out” he stopped when we reached the entrance to the ballroom. It was so grand, elegant, gorgeous, and just…so not me. People were dancing already, chatting to the side where there were nibbles laid out, ugh no proper food, I was going to have to get a takeaway after this, I knew it. 

“I assure you miss, Luke will personally apologies himself tonight once his duties have cleared slightly, he promises me that” Aleck said genuinely.

“Will he mean it though?” I asked, a little doubtful “I mean, it’s no offence to you Mr Aleck, but, well, he doesn’t exactly seem the most gracious or polite guy” The sadness in Alecks eyes became so visible it almost broke my heart. He obviously truly cared for his grandson and it hurt to see someone dislike him so. But I couldn’t help it, the way he spoke to me was so spiteful, hateful, and it disgusted me.

“I am sorry you think that of him, but he is a hard worker, dedicated, patient, kind, generous, I’m afraid his highness has a little too much influence over him from time to time, he tries too hard…will you at least hear him out?”

“Oh of course, but I can’t guarantee it will change my opinion of him” I said truthfully.

“I understand, thank you” he bowed again, smiling as Takao returned, Luke following behind again “We shall leave you two to enjoy the party, if you need anything, just come find us”

“Thank you Aleck, truly” I said, taking Takao’s hand. And I swear I saw Luke hesitate, glancing at our hands before leaving.

Takao lead me into the ballroom and straight for the nibbles, he either knew me too well already, or he was hungry too. Sure, the food did look absolutely delicious, but, why so tiny? Why have such small slices of toast with the tiniest dab of cream cheese on? I must have had three before Takao laughed at me. “Don’t laugh at me!” I retorted to his chuckling.

“Sorry, I know they’re small nibbles but, you sneaking each one into your mouth is just too funny” he explained.

“Can’t exactly just shove them in, can I?” I smirked “I mean, who puts such small bits of food for a party?”

“A prince who wishes his guests dance, laugh and enjoy themselves rather than worry about formalities for dinner” a new voice came up behind both of us. “Your highness” both of us bowed at prince Keith who waved it off. “So, you came” he huffed.

“Yeah, well we were invited” I snapped back slightly. If he didn’t want us there, was it someone else who made the invite? Even if it did say Prince Keith in the letter, didn’t mean he wrote it.

“My father invited you after hearing about what you did” ah, question answered. “Well, we are happy for the invite, very grateful” Takao said politely, seeing how annoyed I was getting already. Man I didn’t like smarmy people.

“You’re welcome” he said, glancing at Takao, the music changing in the background. The prince smirked at me “May I have this dance?” he said, offering me his hand.

Uh oh. What was he up to smirking like that? I could never put my finger on this guy, and I didn’t like it. Takao just smiled kindly, letting me decide. But I couldn’t exactly say no to him. Could I?

“Sure, I guess” I said, taking it firmly. Well, if he wanted a dance, damn straight he would get one.

He lead me onto the dance floor, causing a lot of people to turn and stare at us, I didn’t care, not really. I’d done this several times at home, made no difference to me a change of venue. He placed his hand on my waist and I placed mine on his shoulder, not putting much effort into my posture yet. He smirked down at me.

“Better keep up with me” he said. What? Was this a challenge? Oh, bring it. I smirked back.

“You too”

I gracefully leaned back slightly, tilting my head to left and I could see Keith’s face drop ever so slightly as he started the waltz. He lead beautifully, I had to admit, and he was challenging me with the steps, but I kept up with ease. I kept my posture well, my feet following his with grace and, hopefully, beauty. 

By the end of the dance, everyone was staring and some even clapped when the music finished. His highness even stared at me when we parted. I bowed. “Thank you, I enjoyed myself” I simply said, returning to Takao who just laughed when I grabbed a drink.

“His face, I don’t think he thought you could dance” Takao admitted.

“I don’t think he did either” I smiled, downing my drink “can you?”

“Me? A little” he blushed.

“Come on then, let me teach you a bit”

Again, it surprised me how little confidence this amazing guy had in himself, he was such a good, natural dancer and he clearly enjoyed himself, even caught the eye of a girl. Of course, he hadn't spotted her, but I had. Maybe I could finally set him up with someone. Only thing I didn't notice, was Luke watching us from a distance. 

After the next song, both of us split and he guided me to the food table again. The girl kept eyeing him, so I nudged him, gesturing to her. The oblivious, gentleman he was, he had no idea. I sighed, giving him an excuse then walking over to the girl.

"Hi" I said with a kind smile.

"Oh, sorry, is he with you?" She gestured to Takao.

"Came together but not dating, he's all yours if you want" I winked.

"Is he...nice?" She asked, obviously she had been messed around a lot, well, if she was at this party I had no doubt that some snobby idiots had done stuff to her. I just smiled more.

"Damn right he is, proper gentleman, kind, loving, go talk to him, he is a bit oblivious though" I winked once again and the lady smiled.

"...Thanks! I'll give it a go" she smiled back genuinely and walked over to Takao. Ah, job done.

I picked up another glass of champagne and glanced round the room. Yeah, everyone in their own little friendship and class groups, chatting, dancing, until I saw Luke from the corner of my eye heading over. Ugh. No, not now. Thankfully, or maybe not so much. Prince Keith came over.

"You dance?" Keith said simply.

"I do, well, I did, not so much anymore" I explained and Keith actually listened, it kinda worried me "May I help you?"

"I just wanted to talk, you intrigue me" he answered.

"I intrigue you? Am I like some sort of experiment?" I asked, a little offended. "Well, I've never taken an interest in a commoner" 

"Oh, ok, that's it, I'm done talking to you, excuse me" I said quickly, moving away from him, not giving him a chance to stop me.

Ugh, men, well, posh men, royal men. I sighed heavily and noticed Takao had left when I realised he wasn't where I had left him. Had he gone with that girl? Hmm, good on him. But since now I was on my own I was tempted to leave too, but something inside me was telling me I needed to calm down before something happened publicly. I didn't feel emotional right, simply, I was wound up. I spotted a balcony, so I headed straight out and leaned against the railings, taking some slow deep breaths, noticing Takao below escorting the lady to a car. I smiled, genuinely smiled, had I found him someone too.

The cool breeze helped clear my head a little, but it didn't help clear my emotions. I was happy, I was, truly happy for once...in a long long time. I had friends who loved me, accepted me, helped me, I also had a job I enjoyed every day, but I think I had been too happy for a little too long recently. I watched as Takao left, quickly using his phone, probably to text me...yep my phone buzzed in my bag, before getting in the car after the lady. As soon as his car was gone the tears flowed. What the actual fuck? Why now? Why was I feeling so pathetic right now? I'd probably made one of my best friends incredibly happy, it might have been the start of a true romance between then...so why couldn't I be happy like that? Oh. Now it made sense.

"I'm such an idiot" I said to myself "of course it's all about that" 

For the longest time I had known I'd never truly fallen for anyone, I'd never been in love, never managed to get past the third date without losing interest. Was I really incapable of loving someone like that? Maybe I was, and I just had to accept that. I thought I had. So why was I crying? 

"Woman up H, come on" I said, wiping my eyes. 

I truly was pathetic, crying over something like this? No. That life wasn't for me. I had accepted it, and it was ok to feel upset about it every now and then, but it was not ok to feel pathetic.

"You are not pathetic, you are not useless, you are not broken, far from it" I said to myself, but more tears just came "and yet here I am standing on a balcony, on my own, crying like an idiot, of course, bravo H' I wiped my eyes again, only for a handkerchief to come into my vision. I jumped back.

"What the actual fuck?!" I almost shouted, facing Luke.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you..." he said sheepishly.

I stared at him in silence for a bit, desperately trying to stop crying and clear my eyes of any trace of the tears.

"What do you want?" I asked harshly.

"You were crying..."

"I asked, what do you want?" I repeated.

"...I came to give you my apology" he finally replied but continued "I saw you had vanished from Prince Keith's side so, I came to find you, that's when I heard you crying and saying those things about yourself"

No-one saw me like that, no-one, not even Jazz, so knowing he had seen me and heard me, it made me angry.

"You forget what you saw, got it? You don't need to apologise" I said, before making my way to leave.

"I can't do that, I have to apologise for what I have done to you" I stopped.

"You don't have to do what your grandad tells you to, just please, forget all of it" I said through gritted teeth.

"I want to apologise" he said, sounding genuine for the first time "What I said to you, it was extremely immature of me, I would use the excuse that I was under a lot of pressure from his highness and I was very stressed, however, that doesn't excuse my behaviour, I am truly sorry I offended you" he said. I was getting close to an anxiety break-down, I just wanted to get out of here and home.

"Thank you, can I please leave now?" I asked.

"O-of course, yes, silly of me to think that would change your opinion of me, let me escort you to a car, I shall take you home"

It took all my energy to hold back my emotions during the car ride home, a car that Luke drove himself and pulled right up next to my flat block. We both got out at the same time, he didn't say anything, just bowed and offered me his handkerchief again, which I took.

"Thanks" I said, heading inside, but he stopped me by speaking.

"I truly am sorry, you are a beautiful and strong woman, I don't think you're pathetic in any way, I hope one day I can make it up all the offence I have caused" he said, but quickly getting into the car and driving off.

Maybe...just maybe I didn't hate him as much as before. that's when my stomach growled...takeaway it was. What I didn't realise is that the necklace Jazz had lent me had fallen off in the car.

MJS Ladies: @hifftn @whatdoyouexpectthistime @smutmylifeup @nitelotus

[booksandcafesblog]

Cafe Review: Jitters Cafe

Name: Jitters Cafe Inc Address: 12 Main Street, Oak Grove Village, Melrose, MA 02176 Hours: Mon - Fri 7am-7pm  | Sat & Sun 7am-5pm Website: Jitters Coffee: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Food: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Atmosphere: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Service: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Overall: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Overall Rating: 5 out of 5 stars 

You know, I’ve always been the type of person who opts for a few really close, loyal friends instead of a deep bench of casual acquaintances. If you make the cut, congratulations, I did not make the decision lightly. Similarly, I have a handful of restaurants from which I never deviate, and I usually order the same thing at each place. Not to brag, but I currently have a breakfast place where I can just order “the usual” and they know what I mean. If I didn’t giggle each time after I said it, it would come across as pretty cool. However, when it comes to coffee (something I rank way higher than both human interaction and food), I’m the town Casanova, ping-ponging from cafe to cafe, drink to drink… racking up a concerning number of meaningless encounters in my daily quest to avoid a headache from lack of caffeine. 

“What’s the name of this place again? Ah, never mind, it doesn’t matter, I’ll have a large black coffee.”

“Thank you, sir. Please come again.”

“Stop smothering me. I feel like we’re married.”

While it’s fun to go wherever, whenever to order whatever, is that really the kind of person I aspire to be? Do cafes gossip? Will my questionable reputation amongst these cafes affect potential future decisions like running for president or finally getting that library card? About a year ago, I figured it was time to settle down, and so it was with long-term commitment in mind that I decided to try Jitters.

Jitters has a nice, typical coffee-shop feel. The lights are dim, soft, and pleasant. A comforting fresh-baked-cookie aroma permeates the air. The decor consists of an assortment of seating options—booths, stools, and “comfy” chairs—accompanying tables, and people working on their laptops. (I assume these are actually just mannequins arranged for atmosphere.) In addition to drinks, the menu includes breakfast sandwiches, paninis, soups, salads, and cookies. Upon my first visit, I decided to take things slow and begin the relationship by ordering a large cold brew, which was excellent. The large is also pretty big, which gave me plenty of time to claim a high table for one, and scope out what had the potential to be my forever cafe. 

Looking around, the first thing I noticed was the WiFi password written out in chalk. I forget the exact words, but it was something like “don’t hog the booths.” Taking a long drag from my cold brew, I decided I didn’t care for that, as it was kind of negative and implied a lot of baggage. Worse still, after performing the degrading act of typing this scold into my phone, I couldn’t even seem to connect. I’m happy to report Jitters has since changed to a more normal password, and I’ve had no trouble logging on since that first time, but you only get one first impression!

Regardless, as I finished my drink, I knew Jitters was a cafe I’d be interested in seeing again. That is, until I heard a loud crash outside. Like everyone else in the cafe, I looked out the window to see what had happened. To my surprise, a car accident had occurred right outside the establishment. While nobody was hurt, and it looked to be relatively minor, I began to wonder through my vibrating caffeine buzz what this meant for me and Jitters. Was it an ominous message from beyond that Jitters was not the cafe for me? Was it an act of aggression by one of the many jilted cafes from my sordid past? Or was it just a funny story Jitters and I would someday tell our kids? Whatever it was, it was definitely all about me, and I decided to tread lightly in my courtship of Jitters. 

"I have also fallen prey to the wonderful, delightful cookie smell I mentioned earlier, and I am not sorry for it. The cookies are so good..."

Over this past year, I have cautiously continued to frequent Jitters, learning of its many endearing quirks and ordering different items on the menu. I’ll start with the quirks:

The bathroom situation: I could say Jitters has a bathroom, but I think a more accurate statement would be that Jitters has access to a bathroom. The exact location of said bathroom? I have no idea! You start in Jitters, proceed down a disorienting labyrinth of hallways that seems to defy time and space, and if you’re lucky, end up in a bathroom. More than once, I’ve almost walked into the kitchen of a whole other restaurant. I assume it is the kitchen of Bobby C’s, the restaurant right next to Jitters, but it could also be the kitchen of a cruise ship off the coast in France in the 1950s, as again, this hallway is a portal to another dimension. 

Ordering food: When a customer orders food at Jitters, they get a number that they are supposed to place on their table. Once their order is ready, a Jitters employee looks for that number and delivers the food. Simple, right? Apparently not, as a trip to Jitters wouldn’t be complete without watching an employee holding a plate and aimlessly wandering around the cafe like a lost child at the mall. The only discernible difference is that, instead of fearfully crying, “Mom?…Mom?” the employees at Jitters are shakily calling out, “Sausage, egg, and cheese? Sausage, egg, and cheese?”

Speaking of sausage, egg, and cheese - that’s what I get! It is a solid breakfast sandwich, and when you order it with two eggs instead of one, it is stacked English muffin/egg/sausage/egg/English muffin, palindrome-style, which is neat!

I have also fallen prey to the wonderful, delightful cookie smell I mentioned earlier, and I am not sorry for it. The cookies are so good, and somehow consistently maintained at the perfect temperature. I would definitely recommend the chocolate chip, but I’m sure they’re all fantastic. 

Finally, when I’m not ordering a cold brew or a black coffee, I’ve found that I truly enjoy Jitters’ hot apple cider. Even during the summer! On one particularly hot day, the person taking my order questioned my decision to order it, repeating, “Are you sure? Are you sure? Are you sure?” so many times that I still don’t know if she was kidding or legitimately concerned. I kind of felt like I was getting cut off at a bar. She eventually let me order a piping hot apple cider on a 90 degree day, and despite a little bit of embarrassment, I appreciated that she cared, because when someone doesn’t care, it hurts…

Photos from Jitters' Facebook

On my most recent visit to Jitters, the person who took my order greeted me with a, “What will it be, my man?” which I liked, because it showed he knew I was chill. When I ordered a large cold brew, he responded, “All right, that’ll be five flat,” and my jaw almost hit the floor. That is such a cool way of saying five dollars even! I’m still waiting for an opportunity to use that phrase in my own life!

Quick side note: I have been witness to a lot of cool things lately. Just this week, I saw a guy on the train fold his hooded sweatshirt in a way that allowed for the whole thing to fit inside the hood, and he used the drawstring as a strap to hold it like a little gift-wrapped purse. If that wasn’t cool enough, he then popped in his earbuds, began grooving to whatever he was listening to, produced a food container from somewhere, and then just started knocking back grapes for the rest of the train ride. Wow!

Anyway, once I finished ordering, I stepped aside and let the two kids behind me step up to order. That’s when I heard it:

“What will it be, my man?”

My heart sank. Why would he greet them the same way he greeted me? Does he say that to everybody? He must! To add insult to injury, once my cold brew was prepared, he instructed another employee to bring it to “the guy wearing glasses.”

“I thought I was special…” I lamented to myself, sipping my cold brew and hogging a booth out of spite. “I thought I was special…”

Suddenly, it dawned on me. That employee and I weren’t all that different. The way I felt in that moment… unremarkable, passed over, sad… that’s how those past cafes must have felt because of me… because of my noncommittal, infrequent visiting habits. I deserved that pain. I was a monster.

Jitters didn’t become my one and only, as I think I’ll always be a sort of coffee-philanderer, but Jitters isn’t just a notch on my belt either. We have a special relationship, and I am a changed person for having visited. How many stars does one assign to a cafe that taught them so much about themselves?

Five flat… five flat…

[ergohacks]

The Ergohacks Verdict

When Cass was born I realised I had to carry a lot more around with me. I had all my normal stuff – phone batteries, cables, snack, water, but I needed to add everything from nappies to the Soy baby milk she seemed to need every half an hour. What I didn’t need was my laptop. I had a look around and there was no way I was going with a typical changing bag – the looked uncomfortable, inefficient and like a short-term decision.

What I needed was something small and tough that had lots or organisation and was comfortable to carry. I opted for the Maxpedition Fatboy Versipack and I’ve been carrying it on and off for nearly the last seven years. The Versipack isn’t a conventional backpack and isn’t quite a courier bag either – it’s somewhere closer to a man purse and a shoulder bag. When I came to start writing this review I looked at the bag’s specs on Maxpeditions site and realised they didn’t quite line up with what I had. My bag has a velcro clip to attach it to your belt – the current version has a detachable belt. Mine doesn’t have a grab handle on the top and so on. The bulk of the bag hasn’t changed. It’s  the near-perfect combination of toughness and organisation.

Let’s talk organisation first. I tried to count the individual pockets on the Versipack and came up with a figure of about 20 of different types depending if you count pockets inside pockets or not. The key is that the pockets are designed to be accessible while you’re wearing the bag being both openable and viewable from above. Once you get used to it you can open and grab things out by touch or look into the bag easily. When I started using the bag I found it overcomplicated but after sticking with it I’ve come to appreciate the complexity. It worked wonderfully as a nappy bag and since Cass’s diabetes diagnosis it’s been just as good for her supplies as well as my every day carry.

It’s stood up so well to six years of use that I had to go back and double check that I hadn’t replaced it in the intervening time. The bag’s made from a thick high denier nylon with overengineered zips and buckles and hence is near completely rainproof and drop- proof. The pictures with the review are of a siz year old bag that hasn’t been babied and it still looks perfect.

So is it comfortable to wear? Yes. Despite its small size, you can pack a huge amount into the Versipack and that plus the thickness of the materials means it can be pretty heavy. It’s lucky that the shoulder pad and design hold it closely into your body and keep it comfortable in normal walking. If you try and speed up I find it bounces about a fair bit which isn’t that comfortable but that’s where the belt loop comes in. It makes it a bit more difficult to access but holds the bag flush to your body and stops it bouncing. I’ve walked for miles and miles with the Versipack and although I’d still judge a backpack more sensible for perfect comfort its the most comfortable easy accessible bag I’ve ever used.

So would I recommend it? It’s beautifully designed and built and does exactly what it claims but addresses a very specific market. If you’re walking a long way a backpack is probably more comfortable and efficient. If you’re after a mobile office it’s too small even if you only want a tablet. If you just want to carry a waterbottle and wallet it’s overkill. So who does that leave? If you need to carry specific supplies everywhere and need access to them regularly then it’s perfect. It’s a bit big for Cass right now but when she’s older it’ll be exactly what she needs and I’ll happily pass it on to her. If you’re the right person the Versipack is an excellent investment. Highly recommended.

  Buy it from Amazon  + 

Price: ± £90 – 116 depending on variant and colour The standard versipack is designed for right-handed users but a left-handed variant the S-Type is also available.

Specification

Product dimensions: (H) x �� x (D) cm Capacity: 5.7 litres Item Weight: 1kg Colour: Black, Green or Khaki regularly available but a wider range available directly from Maxpedition Material: 1000-Denier water and abrasion resistant light-weight ballistic nylon fabric Zips: Paracord zipper pulls Waterproof: Technically not but I’ve not experienced any Buckles: UTX-Duraflex nylon buckles for low sound closures Noise: Quiet – there is some loop velcro in the bag but it’s designed to add pockets rather than as a closing mechanism

I’ve got the S-Type or left-handed version of the Versipack so this description might not match up perfectly with the standard right-handed version. Starting from the right-hand side of the bag there’s a dedicated water bottle pocket that fits wide Nalgene bottles. This pocket has a drainage grommet at the bottom, a drawstring at the top and a velcro strap that can optionally be used to hold the bottle in. Moving towards the back of the bag there’s a large thin pocket lined with hoop velcro that Maxpedition have designed to hold a concealed weapon. I’ve used it to hold a Kindle and it’s just large enough to fit a small tablet or folding Bluetooth keyboard if you prefer that. Above this pocket is the strap. This is permanently attached on one end and has a quick release buckle on the other. The base of the strap has Mollee webbing that lets you attach other pockets and there’s a small pocket hidden behind the webbing and a metal key clip.

The left of the bag has a smaller zippable integrated pouch pocket with a single divider inside. This pouch pocket is also covered in Mollee webbing. The main pocket of the bag is covered by a large buckled flap that again has two pockets in it – a smaller one that is perfect for headphones and a larger one that fit’s Cass’s test kit perfectly. It’s also covered in ring velcro to attach decoration or other pouches. Once the flap is removed there are three pockets exposed. The largest main pocket that has a drawstring rain cuff and a couple of organisers inside, a smaller zipped pocket that is again subdivided inside and a small pocket on the front of the whole thing. Looking at the bottom of the bag you find more webbing to attach other pouches.

About Maxpedition

Maxpedition is a US company founded in 2003 that specialises in military-style outdoor gear that’s got a reputation for being tough and wearing very well. I’ve several Maxpedition bags and if you’re comfortable with their distinctive styling I find them a great choice.

 We based our Ergohacks Verdict on 6 years weeks of testing, wearing, carrying and abuse. This product is still in regular use today. It was privately purchased in 2012.  This article was first published on 17 November 2017

Maxpedition Jumbo Versipack The Ergohacks Verdict When Cass was born I realised I had to carry a lot more around with me.

[archivallyfound]

“How” formerly knowns as: “Millennials, Politics, Hate-Groups, Baby Boomers: How many buzz words can I fit in a title?”

“How the hell do I even spell it?”

After 3 tries, Google finally understands my jumbled disaster of letters. Millennial, that’s what you want, right? Yes, thank you, oh wonderful technology god that does not demand I know how to spell anything correctly. Now before you scroll past this, I assure you, this is not another millennial-defense piece about how eco-friendly, economically-minded, and amazing they are; nor is it a millennial-bashing piece berating the society-killing nature and socially-spoiled, participation ribbon generation. This is simply me trying to figure out what’s going on.

“How do I want to word this?”

A quick Google search of the word “millennial” brings up 39,900,000 results in .73 seconds. Impressive. Most results begin with definitions, a few stock images of young people doing “young” things (like laughing weirdly and eating ice cream). However, a modified search to “millennials” results in something entirely different. “Millennials Don’t Care About X” fills the news headlines. “The Unluckiest Generation.” “Why Millennials Don’t Work Hard Enough.”

“How is this search so different?”

The addition of a single letter skews the results. The pluralization of a single word, mass-scale search shows an ugly side of reality. The single millennial is not a threat. There is a certain curiosity about them. Almost like a newborn animal at a zoo where all information is gathered from scientific-evidence (height, weight, age, coloring, blood pressure, etc.). But more than one millennial is a threat. Once groups start forming generationally, changes begin to occur.

“How do they not remember that?”

Alright, Baby-Boomers, I’m looking at you here. I guarantee that at some point in life, you have been called the “greatest generation” and also condemned at the “worst generation” as well. These generalizations are just that- generalizations that are applied by those outside the group via their personal perspective. Are all of you “the worst”? No. Are all of you “the greatest”? No. Do most people fall in the middle of two such extremes? Absolutely. Remember when your parents told you that you were changing too much? News reports about cultural norms being “ruined” essentially by a young generation? Let me jog your memory if not: Civil Rights. That was a pretty big doozy.

“How can they blame us?”

Millennials find themselves in the same place that all generations have been: the transition. The change. The “ruining” of the last generation. Altering the course of history. You get it. But this generation faces a slightly different angle to the change: the rapid growth of communication and technology has forced these changes to occur at lightning-speed that has never been seen before. Within .7 seconds anyone can connect with someone around the world. We are glued to our phones, laptops, tablets, smart devices. Why? Because they’re awesome. I don’t say that facetiously. The power to compute, communicate, research, and enjoy is easier now than ever before.

“How did we get here?”

Millennials are often referred to, at least recently, as the generation that kills things. Millennials kill the fast food industry. Millennials versus Walmart, Millennials opting to go organic. Why are millennials making these changes? Perhaps, and just perhaps, it has to do with the mass amount of information and commentary we carry in our back pockets and our purses. We have found other people like us. We’ve formed entirely online communities. We type our hearts out to strangers who in turn share theirs. We are creating a shared experience globally.

“How is that bad?”

I’m glad you asked, other me typing the questions. Interaction is not necessarily bad or good, it’s an interaction depending on multiple circumstances. However, with the growth of communication and the demand for immediacy in everything surrounding millennials lives, destination of news, events, politics, and culture, is not always great. Oftentimes, accuracy is sacrificed for speed and sources are cited only due to their proximity. This means the reality of the situation isn’t fully realized until much later and it is sometimes contradictory to the initial reports. Quick news is generally not wholly accurate news.

“How do we combat that?”

No idea. No really, I have no explanation for that. But I do want to circle back as to why this rant is continuing. A.) I wanted to used the word “rant” so a google search for “millennial rant” will pull my writing. B.) The growth of the “millennial” global community is a reflection of a much larger issue at hand. Politics. Yup, we’re going there. Buckle up and get on the Magic School Bus kids, it’s gonna be bumpy.

“How does politics relate to any of this?”

It’s pervade in everything we as people do. News, online articles, TV interviews, podcasts, Twitter. Instagram. Snapchat. News and information is everywhere. You’d need to be hiding under a rock to miss all this. Even if you only get your news from traditional or “reliable” sources (debatable, by the way), you’re still consuming information in the technologically most advanced age in the course of human history. This means you have the ability to select which news you see, respond instantaneously to the author, link the information to others, which is great. IF. IF. IF. If the information is correct and unbiased.

“How do we get unbiased news?”

We don’t. Everyone ever has had a personal bias that shapes the way they think and act. Experiences, education, culture, trauma, disabilities are all factors in how we process information and determine the lens in which we view the world. None of this is new. The news has always been biased. People have always been biased. History is biased. If you don’t believe me, check out a textbook from the 1950’s, the 1970’s, the 1990’s, and 2017. Look at the index and search for “women” or “race.” I promise you they will all be different in their explanations of events and information. We fight against unbiased news by ourselves bing educated.

“How can you demand that from people when they are so busy?”

Don’t misunderstand. I’m not expecting everyone to read every book and have full knowledge and acceptance of every concept ever. But remember those devices in our pocket or purse or, more likely, in your hand right now? huh. Maybe a search to check out some research before you comment or you post or you discuss. Remember writing papers in high school? Thesis then support and support and support (and every bit of support is cited to a source that is an expert on the facts of the discussion). We should be approaching news and information the same way: thesis+researched sources and background = argument.

How can you expect me to do that?

I know firing off in the comments on youtube or that god-awful article forum is more fun. We as humans like drama. Don’t deny it. We want to get a rise out of the other side because emotions cloud the reality and sustainability of their argument. Facts are not emotional. Facts do, however, sometimes depend on the source. “There’s his side, her side, and the truth.” That applies here. Gathering as much information as possible allows a fuller picture to encapsulate most of the reality of what happened/is happening/will happen. This demands a background on the topic. Sorry history-haters, you’re going to need to brush up a bit here. Disclaimer: I’ve got two degrees in history, I’m a nut. I know it’s not normal, but it is vitally important. I’ll keep my excitement to a minimum.

How does history apply?

More than anyone realizes. History shows us the patterns of humanity when faced with interactions. Good, bad, ugly, we’ve got examples on all of them. None the same, but some very closely related (like identical twins versus you and a cousin who look more like siblings). Same concept, different solutions or different means to an end. Let’s look at the current political atmosphere: Nazis and White Supremacists. These groups are not new, even in the U.S. no matter how much a large group of us would like them to be. they are deeply rooted in our history (cheesy, right?) but there is an element of truth to it.

How do we fight them?

We don’t. Violence isn’t solving anything in this case. It’s causing injuries, injustice, death. Unfortunately, it is also giving those in support of these policies and ideologies a chance to easily blame those standing up to these hate-groups. “There were fine people on both sides.” “There was aggression on both sides.” “The liberal violent agenda…” This is not going to solve anything but draw the line in the sand even deeper. You cannot change their minds. They will not change yours. That point is at an impasse. However, we can fight them by not indulging them, by knowing historically where we’ve been, by taking realistic, rational steps towards educating those around us so they know that hate is not how the U.S. operates.

How do you know what to do?

I don’t. And you shouldn’t listen to me. Or anyone, for that matter. The more educated you are and the more you think for yourself, the more dangerous you are. You’re not sheep, you’re not dumb, you have an 8 pound brain in your head (according to that cute kid in Jerry McGuire); USE IT. The mob mentality is lazy. Let one person push their thoughts out to a mass and the mass responds with “yeah, that works.” We aren’t just fighting black/Jew/Middle Eastern/Asian/Mexican/name your minority haters, we are fighting ignorance. We. Not a person. Not an individual. Individuals. That’s right, add that ’s’ on there. Changes the meaning. We need to examine our education on these matters and then add to the collective knowledge of humanity and join together.

How?

Any way we can. Read a book. Share and article. Have a discussion. Get into it with Aunt Liza and Grandpa at Thanksgiving. Ask them why they feel the way they do. Understand their perspectives, look historically when and where they lived. Place yourself in their circumstances. Then fight the prejudices that they are facing. Find information. Fight ignorance. And take care of yourself. We make this world better collectively by taking care of ourselves individually first.