#MOM. I DID NOT CHECK OUT FIFTY SHADES OF GRAY

[britneyshakespeare]

i let my mom use my library card like a week ago or so for her libby account (i don't use libby; occasionally i use hoopla; as far as digital services go i'm a loyal kanopy girl) and i went to check my library account online to see if my inter-library loan request was arrived and it said i had one title checked out already and i was like ???? bc i know i currently don't. and it showed that my mom is using libby to listen to an audiobook of fifty shades of gray. my life is worse now

[shhhhhskars]

See You Again (part 2)

Click here to indulge in part 1. This is kind of our babies getting emotionally vulnerable with each other, and being weirdos together. All the feels. Very fluffy and soft soft Alex things. I hope you enjoy this. (P.S. sorry if there are typos or what not, my brain has been tired lately.)

There was something bittersweet about finding it when she did. A mixture of embarrassment, unease and relief. It over took her body in a rush as she gazed at his messy scribble in the lonely kitchen, and she had to physically close her eyes to ground herself for a few seconds. All was silent, except for the soft humming of the refrigerator, and she basked in it for a second. With the tension leaving her body, she realized just how disappointed she truly was a second ago. And what was this undeniable shift she felt in the pit of her stomach, the muddled clenching that was there just prior- practically nonexistent now? All of that pent up anxiety and frustration. Gone. Poof. Easy like that. Simply because he had signaled that he was still around.

How was it possible that he could shift her mood so effortlessly? The thought made her seethe a little, his pull was far too strong on her emotions, and it terrified her.

Making a mental note to check in with herself later, she took her her sweet time to climb the staircase up to the rooftop terrace- an effort to convince herself that she was not a complete soft trash can for the man who waited for her. She did her best to maintain an expression of nonchalance- an effort to appear cool, calm and collected. Instead, she found herself chewing at the inside of her bottom lip the entire time, to hold back the smile that was fighting it’s way across her lips. 

When she finally reached the top level, firmly pulling open the french doors, she stopped curtly, legs suddenly feeling like lead.

The roof terrace which was designed to be a cozy space- was decked out intricately from left to right. Draped from edge to edge- twinkling round string-lights hung, the glow that emitted from the circular bulbs standing out against the black, industrial wire and the bare night sky. They wrapped around the exposed wooden beams that provided a shaded area in the day-time, and looped back to where she was standing. Starting at her feet, there were milky wax candles of all sizes, placed in careful bundles all around the terrace floor, burning comfortably in temperate night. A few over-sized metal lanterns lay among them, with taller candles inside, the light bouncing back and radiating against the glass. Dozens of healthy sunflowers (her favorite) beamed straight up in ceramic white pitchers, which were spread through out the various surfaces- one on top of the lounge table, another on top of the bar area. 

He staggered his usual potted plants to the outskirts of the terrace, their terra-cotta buckets adding to the rosiness and haziness of the scene- which made just enough room for a fluffy, layered spread of blankets, on top of a heavy, white quilted duvet. A handful of throw pillows were scattered a top, all some shade of creme or white, some with cotton covers, others knitted, some just soft and fuzzy. Two generously sized wine glasses were perched on a wooden stool next to the area, already filled with a deep ruby hue, and she could tell it was her favorite blend that they kept in their mini collection downstairs. A gentle, soft jazz instrumental filtered through the air, nearly undetectable due to the fact that they were nestled in the heart of the city, the buzz from around them undeniable. 

She was in awe of the energy of the space- of his lofty and particular intimate curation. Stunned, she held her breath. 

As if on cue, the giant Swede who was responsible for it all, appeared from around the corner, whistling softly to himself, carrying an extensive charcuterie board with two large hands. He nearly jumped when he saw her standing in the door way, and clutched at the wooden board firmly. 

“Holy shi.. I said around 10...ish, 'baby. Hi, though.” he muttered with a furrowed brow, but a silly smile was spreading across his face just from seeing her frame in the doorway. He walked over to the wooden table that was near their fort of blankets, and placed down his work of art, shifting it into place on the table. 

Still in complete shock, she ignored him and his time request, watching him nonchalantly shift some of the cheeses on the board. 

“Alex...did you do all of this...for me?” she questioned, clearing her throat to catch his attention when he ignored her. “Alex..” she pressed again, softly, and he pried his attention away from the cheese brought his eyes to hers finally. Looking around, he gave her a tiny, innocent shrug and a nod, as if to say, yeah, I did. He pushed himself up, dusting his butt off a little as he did so, and walked over to where she stood expectantly in the door way.

He wrapped a hand around the small of her waist, pulling her into him, and she sighed a breath of relief, from the much needed contact. 

“We haven’t seen much of each other as of late. I figured, we could use some alone time.” he said modestly. “I mean, I know it’s nothing much, or whatever but...something small, you know, just for us.”

She scoffed, wrapping one arm around his waist, pulling his body closer to hers with a gentle jerk. Suddenly her Tiramisu and lingerie felt minuscule, compared to what he did for her. 

“Small? Baby...” she planted a solid kiss on his chin. “This is everything.” she whispered. Music still softly threading along in the background, he blushed a violent shade of light pink, and brought his lips gently onto hers, leaving a lingering, soft kiss that made her want to whine when he broke it. He dropped her waist and went for her hand, interlocking their fingers and pulling her out of the doorway, and down onto the terrace. “C’mere.” He tugged at her arm, prompting her to follow him to the little area he had set up for them.

**

A few glasses of wine in, and she’s sitting pretzel style on top of one of the pillows, giggling at a Skarsgard camping story. This time, he remincised on  camping with G, and Gustaf’s then girlfriend. Bill also tagged along, as well as a young Valter, and the trip was a memorable mess, because Valter, Bill and Alexander were forced to share a tent. Other than Gustaf and his girlfriend making their...sounds, Valter could swear up and down he heard a bear in the middle of the night- which led to him waking them up in the ass crack of night,  to sob a bit and beg them to check it out. Bill volunteered, and instead of coming back into the tent he took an intentionally long smoke break, which caused Valter to freak out even more.

 His shirt rode up as he spoke, animated and enthused as ever, exposing his sculpted, tan torso and gray boxer briefs. This was one of his top five favorite positions to be in, ‘cause he could gaze right up at her with ease, head snuggled in her lap and his long body stretched out to the maximum. If she threw in a little head scratch, ah, that was true bliss. 

“Ah...that little motherfucker, man. I miss him when he was small. Now he’s all...smart and what not.” Alexander commenced his reminiscing with a chuckle, followed with a small sigh. 

She smiled down at him, one hand brushing through his locks, the other, reaching for her wine glass and dragging the rim up to her lips. “Yeah, well, that generally happens, sweets. You have fifty million siblings, you should know this.” she said with a little tug on his hair. He winced, belting out a mumbled ouch, and pinched the side of her thigh.

“Fifty million, yeah? I’m defffintely telling my dad you said that.” he said with a goofy little giggle, raising a hand up to gently trace her cheekbone.

“You wouldn’t fucking dare, Skarsgard. You know that’s my bestie.” she said with a roll of her eyes, cutting her eyes at him playfully.

“Ooh, and I’m telling mom you said that,” he countered, changing from his index to his rough thumb, bringing his hand down to stroke her jaw-line with his large finger. A full on grin was spread across his face now, fully amused at teasing her, and her mouth dropped dramatically. 

“You’re playing dirty. I thought you missed me, sir.” She gave her best pout and sad eyes, but it only made them both laugh.

“I missed the hell out of you, and those awfully dramatic facial expressions you do. You should be an actress.” he touched the tip of her nose with his index finger, and she shook her head with a small laugh.

“Oh? There’s a joke.” she said with a little snicker, imagining the scenario briefly. She ran her hand down his tummy, tracing small circles on exposed skin. He shuddered under her touch, and he closed his eyes, snuggling his head more into her lap. It was getting later and later, and Alexander became more and more of a baby when it was close to his bed-time.

“Mmmmm.” he mumbled as adjusted, relaxing under her touch. She took a good look at him, laying their with his eyes closed. She could see every line, every tiny little wrinkle that creased up at the side of his eyes- she adored each one. Under his eyes were slightly puffy, like he was restless and needed a good rest tonight. She looked at his faded stubble that was growing back at a rapid rate from his last visit to the barber. 

“What? Does that feel good?” she asked, nibbling on the inside of her bottom lip gently as she peered down at him.

He nodded slowly, and she stopped the circles on his tum for only second, just for his eyes to shoot open and his brows to furrow down. Her eyebrows raised in surprise, and she resumed her circles. He smiled and closed his eyes, once again at ease.

She stifled a laugh, at how simple he was to please, and how lucky they both were to have found each other in a such a messy world. And it was strange...it was very rare that she craved affection, or romance, the whole idea of it made her kind of cringe sometimes- yet she felt so comfortable laying here with him, surrounded by candles and laying in a fort of throw blankets. It was oddly comforting, to know that in this moment she could just be- that there was no real need for a facade of any type of persona right in this moment. She brought her left hand to his hair again, giving him a little head rub while her other hand ran over his stomach and chest under his thin white t-shirt. It hitting her all at once, that if anything could be considered perfection, it would be this moment, with Alexander, right here.

“You could be anywhere in the world, but you’re here with me. Ain’t that about a bitch.” she joked awkwardly with shake of her head, not letting up her movements.

His eyes opened at that- but they were still half closed. Darkened blue orbs half covered by sleepy kids stared up and into her soul for a second and she had to look away.

“Please, kid, where else would I be?” he challenged, with a lazy little yawn.

She shrugged, unable to find the right words, and he chuckled at her silence, and her eyes fell back on him. She paused this time, letting her hand rest on his chest, grazing her hand his right nipple softly.. He smiled a little at the tickling feeling of that. “If I didn’t meet you..what, I’d be...drunk somewhere with Dada? Talking about some new dumb thing he saw online, listening to his stoned ass. Or maybe wandering around a hotel alone? Trying to find somewhere other than my empty room read a script.” He finished his little rant with a chuckle. “Really no where else I’d rather be.” he added softly, with a small shrug.

She was taken aback at his brutal honesty, at how he opened himself up to her- this was a rare occasion indeed. She felt her heart physically softening in her chest for him, and it ached a bit.

“Nah. You’d be out making some new art. Creating. Being dope. You know. It’s what you do. It’s in your genes.” Building up the people she cared about was in her nature, and this earned a blush and a shy smile from him. He paused, those blue orbs scanning her face, from her eyes to her nose, to her lips- then back up again to her eyes. “Oh? Tell me more.” he teased and laughed, pinching his nipple so hard he jumped. “Only teasing. Only teasing. I appreciate you and your words. I appreciate them more than you know, my love.” He gently braced himself, so he could push himself up and out of her lap, adjusting his body so he could face her.

She swung her legs over his, scooting closer into him and his warm core, and he wrapped his hands around the small of her waist, nuzzling his nose on hers with a gentle eskimo kiss. “Don’t think anyone’s ever said anything that nice to me, and for no reason.” he said, leaving a kiss on the tip of her nose.

She closed her eyes, breathing in his familiar scent. The night was winding down, minutes until twelve now. The city was still buzzing- but it was significantly quieter right now. Their soft jazz and candles were still going strong.

She shrugged and he paused, waiting for her to finish her thought, and she took a moment to gather her words. Emotions and hormones were running through her at an all time high, and it was wonderfully painful, beautiful and messy at the same damn time. She knew what she had to get off of her chest, it had been a long time coming.

She took a shaky breath, raising her head so they were both eye level, holding the sides of his face and getting a good grip with her hands before starting. He noticed the moisture from her hands seeping through, a sign of her getting nervous- that he always found extra cute.

“I love you...Alex. I’ve known...for a while. But I’ve been. I’ve been waiting for the right moment.” she said meekly, her throat constricting slightly. Alexander had been the one who said I love you first, and she was anxiously waiting for the perfect moment to reciprocate the energy. This, was it. There was no other time.

Eyes softened, he smiled, his heart quickening a few beats, before tilting his head into hers, closing the small distance in between their faces with a rough, eager kiss. She dropped his hands hurriedly from his face, wrapping them around his neck and bringing herself closer to him. He pulled her in, and she crawled into his lap, straddling him. A hand in the back of her hair he gently tugged, pulling her face back. “Fuck. I love you, kid.” Was all he could manage to get out, before she was gripping at the bottom of his tee, and putting her lips back on his, desperate for more of him, for all of him- in this moment. Little did he know, she hadn’t even revealed her secret weapons- the lingerie and his chilled Tiramisu that she was sure he would get all excited about once he realized he had an post-sex snack waiting for him.

[writingismyhappytime]

Marry Me (Part 7)

Ricky Horror x Reader

Warnings: Language

"This is the last of it," Ricky sighs as he sits the last box of his things in your spare bedroom, which is now quite full of extra boxes and... well, guitars. He literally moved his most prized possessions into your apartment but left the rest of it at his house with Ryan.

"Well, that's good. I'm sure Ryan is relieved to have the extra room." You comment as you lean against the door jam, watching him open one of the boxes containing his clothes. "Think he'll put a play room in there like in Fifty Shades of Gray?"

Ricky rolls his eyes; he's never seen the movie but he understands the context. "No, he's gonna leave it for me when I bunk over."

Oh, right. Ricky doesn't plan on staying with you constantly, just enough to keep the facade going. It's almost easy to forget.

The two of you spent your honeymoon weekend on your couch eating takeout; you watched TV and he read a book, and occasionally you had a conversation about how much you dislike the Bachelorettes choice in men and how she keeps picking the worst ones, and he made agreeable sounds.

Marriage is easy.

"You can change the room around however you like, but you know when Chloe is over you're going to have to sleep with me." You remind, biting your lip. "I kick in my sleep."

"So long as you don't shove me out of bed, it's fine." He shrugs, his back to you so you don't see him flush. Yeah, he's thought about that already, but you're both adults. He spent the nights in your spare room, the beds okay but he'd really like a softer mattress. He'll have to buy one because he know Chloe will complain as well.

"I'll steal all the covers."

"Are you trying to make me want to sleep on the sofa?" Ricky sends you an amused look. "I mean, I can if it would make you more comfortable." He adds hastily, hands hovering over his open box. He doesn't want to push or anything or make it seem like he's trying to ---.

"Nah, it's all good. I don't really mind, I'm just teasing." you shrug, taking a step back as you glance at your watch. "I gotta head back downstairs, I can't leave the guys to their own devices too long. You good up here?"

"Yeah."

You turn away, heading back downstairs to your car shop; you have a business to run now that the marriage is done, and you figure the worst is over. You wear your ring, occasionally post cute photos of the two of you, that's it, right? Ricky just has to file for custody of Chloe, where it's fair, and he'll totally have the appearance of a stable home for her when he's on tour.

Easy peasy.

Ricky listens for the front door to close before sitting down in the floor with a sigh, pulling the box between his knees as he rifles through it. He's tired, but the stress of the wedding is over, so that's a relief. He feels like he'd really roughed it up into a horror show in his head, but it went smooth.

You'd looked so beautiful, he doesn't think he's ever seen anyone glow the way you did, and that dress ---. Well, he's kind of embarrassed with how blown away he'd been, he's just so used to seeing you in a greasy jumpsuit or with black streaks all over you, smelling like oil and brandishing a wrench.

Whenever he thought of you, that's all he could picture, but now it's a little different. He's seen you in dresses, noticed your lovely legs, and when you doll up you're certainly a sight to behold. He almost regrets that he didn't notice any of that before, but, well, with Claire, he's not really been noticing anything else.

Chloe is his world, he'll do anything for her, and he doesn't want to do anything that could mess that up. The fact you're changing up your life to help him ensure that means a lot to him, especially since you went to such great lengths. He appreciates you more than you know, but he's having a harder time thinking of you as just one of the guys now.

Sometimes all he can think about is how soft your lips are, how sweet your lipgloss tastes --- no, he shouldn't focus on any of that. You're friends, that's it, and with the circumstances, he can't let it get complicated. He can't even fantasize about it, not when he has court coming up in a few more weeks and that should be taking all of his attention.

Claire is going to fight him tooth and nail, he just knows it. But he doesn't think he should only get Chloe every other weekend, he wants to be in her life more. She's his daughter too, and her mother isn't going to just take his checks and keep her away from him! She can't use the excuse he goes on tour and is never around, either, or that he doesn't have a stable place for Chloe, which is what she's pointed out before .

He's a musician, but that doesn't make him a bad father.

He just has to prove that to the judge.

~~~~~~~~~~

You sigh, listening to your guys ramble on as they work on the cars in the shop. They all cleaned up nice for your wedding, but now it's back to business. You're their boss, but you're used to the smack talk, and the guy talk, but not the coffee cups being left strewn everywhere. You haven't really been around lately you've been so busy with the wedding, and they've apparently gotten a little lax with the cleanup!

The first half of your morning was spent making them clean just like you were their mother! You're a little annoyed honestly, can't even leave them for a few weeks to do anything on their own!

Or maybe you're just in a bad mood because you didn't get enough sleep last night, Ricky keeps pacing back and forth in his room on the phone and it bothers you. You've lived alone for so long it's weird to know someone else is in your apartment. Plus he argues very loudly.

Apparently there's already issues with Claire, she called him late last night and has him set off still today. You're not sure what's going on with her, you guess it's not really any of your business, but if it's health concerned she needs to let Ricky know about it since it can affect their child. Chloe seems happy and fine so far, but you worry.

You glance out from underneath the car as you hear a wrench clatter, listening to someone swear as they have to grab it. Everything always echoes pretty loud in the garage, but you're just pleased you still have business; honestly you think you have even more than usual since you married Ricky a few weeks ago.

Could be the whole fame thing.

You tighten the screw on the part you're working on, listening absently to the loud music playing over the radio. It's just like any other day in the shop, and you find you missed this part of your routine. You've been so wrapped up in Ricky's business you've almost forgotten about your own.

You do wonder how Claire and Ricky are going to be when the time for court hits. Ricky now has an extra ball in his court, so hopefully that'll convince the judge he's much more reliable. Honestly, Ricky is a great dad, so you don't understand why he wouldn't get more time with Chloe, at least make it equal!

You haven't really thought about what you're going to do when he's off on tour though. Do you keep Chloe? Do you let her stay with her mom? Maybe you should ask him about it. You love Chloe to death, and the two of you get along just fine, you're just not really sure you can entertain her the entire time he's gone, but you'll certainly try.

What do kids like, anyway?

Maybe you should ask your aunt, she has more expertise with kids than you do, she could give you some pointers. She's always ready to give advice anyway, she'll be thrilled you're actually asking for once.

"Hey."

Hmm?

You hesitate and glance over from the car as you hear your husbands voice. You're leaning over it, a light hanging off the hood to illuminate the parts before you so you can work, a streak of grease already on your cheek. Your hands are smeared with black, how the hell do you get so dirty so fast?

"What is it?" You ask as you lean up, wiping at your forehead with the back of your hand; so that's how you constantly get it on your face, why don't you wear gloves?

"I'm heading into the studio to work with the guys, I'll be back later tonight." Ricky says, typing on his phone as he stands a few feet away from you, not even looking up. "You don't have to wait up for me."

"But, darling, I was going to cook us such a lovely dinner tonight." You sigh dramatically. "Oh how you've foiled my plans."

Ricky chuckles, his bright eyes finding yours as he takes a moment to notice you; he already misses how you looked in your wedding dress, all dolled up and beautiful; when he thinks of you now, it's like that. "As much as I love spaghetti, I'll grab something on the way back. Do you need anything?"

"Nah, all good. Hey, isn't Chloe coming over this weekend?"

"Uh, yeah." Ricky shifts; that was the agreement, anyway. She should be coming to check out the new place, with Ricky picking her up so Claire won't have to drive halfway across town. He's a little nervous about it, her staying over, but she's never had any issue when she was at Ryan's. It's just everything is so different now, what if she's unhappy? What if she doesn't like your apartment? It's obviously smaller than the house he rents. What if she wants to leave early?

"Should I get anything special from the store? You have her toys and stuff from the house right, the ones she leaves over?"

"Yeah, they're in one of the boxes in the spare room." His eyes flick across the shop, which has suspiciously gotten quieter since he came downstairs; all your workers are pretending not to listen while very obviously doing so. "She should be fine."

"Right." You just don't want her to be bored. You're open on Saturdays, so you'll be working, and Ricky will have to entertain her. "We'll just have to make it clear that she can't be in the shop while we have cars in here, the equipment is too dangerous."

"She'll understand that."

"I know." She's a smart kid, you don't doubt that. But all kids get rambunctious and want to break the rules sometimes.  "Just really press that, okay?"

"I will."

"Cool. So why don't you bring some Italian home with you tonight, hmm?" You suggest, giving him a smile. "I'd love some of those breadsticks."

Ricky rolls his eyes. "Of course you do. If you're passed out when I get back, I'm eating them."

"Fine, they don't taste good reheated anyway."

He shakes his head as he starts out the large bay doors, stepping over a jack carefully; he's only tripped over it three times before when he's come strolling through. You chuckle to yourself, turning your attention back to the car parts in front of you.

He better bring you those breadsticks.

~~~~~~~~

"Oh you're the best husband ever," you sigh as you sit on your sofa, feet propped on the coffee table. You're fresh out of the shower, wearing pajamas with your hair still damp as you enjoy the entire basket of steaming hot breadsticks Ricky grabbed for you on the way home. He sitting beside you on his computer, totally enraptured in whatever he's looking at.

"I know." He replies, taking the half you offer him after a moment. "They still remember us since I proposed to you there so your half was free as a wedding present."

"Oh that's so nice." You brighten a little, pulling a blanket over your lap as you squirm into the pillows surrounding you. "I'll remember to tip well."

He sends you a wry look. "Chloe is excited to come over."

"She just wants to see her new bedroom. You got a lot of that cleaned up, right?" You ask of the stacks of boxes upon boxes. A lot of them are already at the dumpster, so you assume he's been cleaning. You also don't want a tower of them to fall on the kid either. That won't be a good first impression.

"Yeah, it's pretty much together already. I'm gonna have to buy a new mattress though."

"Is that one not good?"

"It's just too firm. Chloe will complain."

You quirk a brow, glancing from your TV show back to him. You really wanna see who the Bachelorette kicks off the show, but you can always rewind it. "The bed is too firm?"

"She likes soft." Ricky shrugs, flushing.

"Well what do you like? Firm or soft?" You quirk a brow at him playfully, tapping his hand with a breadstick. "We can switch beds if you like, I think mine is a little softer but I don't care either way."

"No, I'm not going to steal your bed from you," he shakes his head. "I'll figure it out."

"Well, don't say I didn't offer," you mumble, a breadstick already shoved halfway in your mouth as you turn your attention back to the TV. This is as good a dinner as any in your opinion, you're too tired to cook anything. You worked after hours finishing up some of the cars that were getting behind, so now there's at least two ready to be picked up tomorrow. You swear your guys can be so lazy sometimes, you don't even know why you keep them around!

Your eyes flick to the clock, it's only around ten, but you're already debating on going to bed. You're so very tired, and the day has been ridiculously long. You suppose you're boring, not even going out on a Friday night, not wanting to go party like a normal person your age. You should be out hanging with friends, getting into trouble, but instead... well, you suppose you're just a settled adult.

Ricky glances over as his phone lights up between the two of you, and you look down nosily only to frown.

"Why is she calling so late?" You ask as you see Claire's name lighting up the screen, causing Ricky to sigh. "You're not going to argue late into the night again are you?"

He hesitates, glancing at you almost guiltily. "You heard that?"

"Well, the walls are thin." You shrug. "I'm still getting used to someone being here with me, so I notice all the noises."

"Sorry," he mumbles, reluctantly clicking the screen. He would ignore her most times, but he always worries it has something to do with Chloe and he wants to be there if it is. He answers it, and his face sours after just a few seconds of talking with her. He sends you a look, and you raise your brows at him, wondering what problem happened now.

It's always a bad omen when his ex calls.

"I'll be right down," Ricky sighs in exasperation, ending the call before his ex can get another word out. He drops his phone on the sofa, running his hands up his face and into his hair as he exhales heavily. He gives it a beat before he shifts, slipping his computer onto the coffee table and standing.

"Everything okay?" You ask after a moment, a breadstick hovering halfway to your mouth. You're practically inhaling them, but you'd been starving to death honestly. You'd been so pleased when he'd actually come back with food you could have kissed him if he wasn't your fake husband.

"Yeah, so... Claire is downstairs, waiting to drop Chloe off early."

"What." You stare at him, frowning immediately as you lower your semi-warm breadstick. Chloe isn't supposed to be here till tomorrow, you are not prepped for a child right now! If she's here, that means Ricky is going to have to sleep in your bed! With you! On the plus side, you've already put clean sheets on there, but on the downside you're not sure you're excited about sharing your bed, despite it's a big one. You kick in your sleep, did you tell him that?

"I'm sorry," he says nervously at your not very impressed look. "I wasn't expecting this, but I gotta go downstairs."

"Well, I mean, it's fine," Not exactly like you can tell him no, is it? Oh yeah Ricky, your kid can't come here, make your ex go away. No, that's shitty, and this is the entire reason you got married, for Chloe. You'll just make sure to take a ton of photos with her this weekend to prove that you had her when Claire was supposed too. "Do you need backup?"

"What? No, why would I need backup?" Ricky is already moving towards the door, but he glances over his shoulder at your words. You look so comfy on the sofa, under a blanket, food in your lap, your damp hair around your shoulders as you look at him.

"I dunno, in case she gets rude and I need to beat her up to defend your honor."

Your husband snorts, shaking his head. Of course Claire is going to be rude, but you going to jail on assault charges isn't going to help his case. He doesn't respond as he leaves the apartment, heading down the rickety steps to get his kid from his ex. You sigh as he disappears, leaving the front door open.

Great.

You glance down unhappily, but you're not very hungry anymore. You drop the basket onto the table, brushing some crumbs out of your lap as you get to your feet. Your dads old t shirt and some shorts don't seem appropriate suddenly for Chloe's first night with you, but you doubt you have time to change.

You purse your lips before creeping to the window, nudging the blinds just a little so you can see out into the parking lot. Claire's car is idling just in front of one of the closed bay doors, and she's holding a very sleepy looking child in her arms as Ricky grabs a pink bag from the interior. You know they're talking, but their voices don't quite carry up to your height.

What the hell is that woman up too? She's been so adamant before about not really letting Ricky see his kid, now she's practically shoving Chloe at him randomly. You seriously think she's got something healthwise going on because otherwise, you doubt she'd be like this. She's not nice enough, or maybe it's just because Ricky is her ex that she's a big dickhead.

You're not sure.

You quickly duck away from the window when Ricky takes his child in his arms, turning to head back into the apartment. You look around, trying to wonder what you can do to look like you were busy and absolutely not spying on him.

You sit back down on the sofa, jerking the blanket back over your lap and pretending you're absolutely enthralled in the Bachelorette. You prop your chin on your hand, but look over as you hear his footsteps on the stairs, and finally, he's walking into the apartment.

Well that's adorable.

He has her backpack over his shoulder, but she's wrapped around him, her face nuzzled into his neck as he carries her. She's completely snoozing, arms loosely on his shoulders , dressed in a blue Cinderella nightgown that you remember wearing similarly when you were a little kid. You hesitate, but Ricky merely presses his finger against his lips.

One wrong move and she'll wake up, he just knows it. He's not sure how she's still asleep and missed the bitch session her mother gave him, but he considers it a blessing. He moves towards the spare room, your eyes following him as he breezes past. He's gone for only a few minutes, where you hear him talking softly to his daughter who must have roused just a little bit, before he's leaving the room and closing the door tightly.

Wow, his face is really red.

"Breadstick?" You offer softly, wondering if that would help his mood. Usually, so long as someone offers you food, you're much more approachable. Unfortunately Ricky just shakes his head, and you frown.

"What happened?"

"Claire is going off for the fucking weekend with her boyfriend last minute," Ricky mutters, keeping his voice low, but you can hear the undertone of anger to it. "She wasn't supposed to drop Chloe off until tomorrow morning but apparently they're leaving tonight. She fucking woke Chloe up so she could go have a fuck fest with that piece of shit."

Or, maybe she thought she would ruin your fuck fest, but jokes on her.

"Well, it's okay," you pat the sofa beside you, not wanting him to start pacing, that gets on your nerves. "She's asleep, right?"

"Yeah, pretty much." he mutters, and reluctantly goes to sit down beside you. He tosses himself down a little harder than necessary, aggravated. "Ten is normally her bed time. I just thought we'd have a little more time to prepare."

"It's okay," you squeeze his arm. "I promise not to kick you out of bed."

"That's not what I meant." Although yeah that's what he forgot about; he's going to have to sleep with you for the rest of the weekend, which he feels is going to be so awkward. You don't seem bothered by the idea, but you seem to always take things in stride no matter what happens. He admires that about you, you don't let anything get to you. He wishes he could be as relaxed, he always feel likes a wire about to snap, like one good tug and his nerves will not be able to take it.

Everything is so stressful lately.

~~~~~~~~~~

So sleeping with you isn't terrible. Ricky let you go to bed first, staying up to finish his lyrics on the computer, studying the notes and habitually glancing at both bedroom doors. You'd left yours cracked just enough where he could open it without making a sound, and Chloe is sleeping soundly in the other room.

So after a few hours he'd reluctantly decided he had to get some sleep, and meandered his way toward the bedroom. All his sleep clothes are in the other room, and he's not about to wake up his child, so he just left his t shirt and boxers and hoped you didn't mind. You were out by the time he crawled in, snuggled around your pillow on the right side, blankets twisted around your legs already.

Everything smells like you, that soft, sweet scent of your shampoo, the laundry detergent. He's a little relieved it doesn't smell like diesel or engine grease, honestly; it's like sometimes he forgets that you're not always covered in black.

He just can't sleep.

He's staring up at the ceiling, his arms beneath his head as he hears the clock ticking in the other room. You only shuffled a little when he crawled in beside you, keeping an entire person's width between you to the point he's actually on the edge of the bed. He just doesn't want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable, that's all.

It's just weird anymore. You don't act any different, but he feels like something changed during the wedding. He's not sure if just his view of you changed, that seeing you dressed up like that, like something out of a fairytale, but... well, he doesn't feel the same. He just always saw you as one of the guys before, greased up and smelling like a racetrack.

He feels stupid, and he knows it's not right how he feels, that he's... well, he's attracted to you more now than he ever was before. He barely spared you a glance, he never really thought of you as anything but pretty, but in his defense, you were dressed in a stained jumpsuit with oil all over you.

He glances over as you shift, mumbling something in your sleep as you roll. He tenses as you turn, apparently seeking warmth as somehow you cross the entire bed onto his side. Your fingers curl into his t shirt, and you sigh as his body heat warms you up. He rolls his eyes, but he doesn't really mind too much.

He lets his arm drift to his side, frowning at nothing. It's so dark, and he can hear his heart beating against his chest, hear your calm breathing as you sleep beside him. You're completely relaxed all the time, how do you do it? He feels like he has such a weight on his shoulders, from worrying about Chloe and her mother to his music, trying to help with the new album. He's just full of stress, whereas used to he went with the flow --- that's also how he accidentally knocked Claire up and they ended up with a kid together.

So maybe just winging it isn't in his best interest.

He hears a creak, and he raises his head, suddenly very awake. Okay, either you're getting robbed, there's a ghost, or his kid is awake.

All three are bad.

The worst is the last one.

"Daddy?"

Goddamit.

Ricky sighs, reluctantly propping himself up on his elbows, seeing her little form shuffling forward. She must be confused, waking up in a strange place, no wonder she's seeking him out. He sits up slowly, trying not to bother you, your hand slipping from his chest into his lap.

"Here," he says softly, Chloe stepping up to the doorway, rubbing her eyes. She glances around, still looking sleepy but a little concerned before she hurriedly darts to his side. "Can't sleep?" he whispers, and she nods her head, her eyes flicking to you where you're passed out, face pressing into, well, his pillow actually.

Is this weird for the little girl? She's always had her dad all to herself, able to sleep in his bed whenever she wanted, she's never had to share. Does it bother her seeing him with you? He's suddenly worried about the impact of it, thank god the two of you weren't actually intimate, what if she walked in on you two being... like that?

Not that you would be, you're not interested in each other, but still.

He would be the one scarred.

"I don't wanna be alone," Chloe sniffles, reaching out to wrap her arms tightly around his neck. "It's scary."

"Oh, I'm sorry, baby," he squeezes her gently, rubbing soothing circles along her back. "I'll stay in there with you."

"Can I not sleep in here?"

Here?

With you?

All three of you?

"Uh." Ricky isn't sure if that's okay or not, how would you react? You're probably not going to want a kid kicking you in your sleep when you have to work tomorrow. Ricky has never had anyone over when Chloe was, he's never even had her meet any girl he might've been interested in. Is this something she wants because that's normally what parents do? Let their kid sleep with them? Is that an okay family thing to start?

"It's okay," you suddenly mumble, almost slurring your words. He glances over Chloe nervously, seeing you roll over onto your back, rubbing your face. He can't stop his eyes from going to your bare stomach where your shirt is twisted around your waist from your squirming.

"Really?" Chloe whispers, as if she's still trying not to wake you.

You try not to smile, your eyes blearily opening to see her wrapped around Ricky, her dark hair framing her face. You nod your head, and open your arms towards her. Chloe immediately grins, and she lets go of Ricky to crawl over to you, wrapping her arms around your waist and wiggling under the blankets still warm thanks to the two of you.

You chuckle, shuffling onto your side so you're more comfortable. "C'mon, Ricky," you mumble, making sure he has enough room. The man hesitates, staring at the two of you like he's never seen you before. No way is his shy little girl so okay with this, does she really like you that much? He never would have thought that. Well, he knew she liked you, but she's really okay with this?

"Daddy!" Chloe pats the space beside her, tucked under the blanket and looking at him expectantly. Your eyes are already closed, your chest moving slowly --- how the hell are you asleep already? Ricky shakes his head as he shifts, getting comfortable in bed again. He tugs the blankets higher over the three of you, sighing as he faces Chloe.

He never did this with her and her mother, or at least she was too young to remember it. Claire was so against co-sleeping or something, she never would let Chloe stay in the bed. It wasn't long they broke up anyway.

Wait.

Does Chloe do this with her mother and that fucking creep boyfriend? Ricky doesn't like that idea at all.

He brushes Chloe's hair out of her face, feeling her snuggle up against his chest, her back to him, her fingers still curled in your oversized t shirt. He's surprised you don't mind her getting in bed with the two of you, he hopes you can get enough sleep to work tomorrow. He doesn't want his and his daughter's presence to mess up your routine, not when it won't be permanent.

How is Chloe going to feel about it? Will she be upset if the two of you break up? You'll always be friends, that's never going to change, so maybe it won't be weird. You can just say that it didn't work out, you thought there was more but there wasn't.

Ricky suddenly feels like he thought nothing through. He was maybe a little hasty about this, wasn't he?

He sighs, letting his eyes close, feeling weariness want to wash over him.

He needs to stop thinking so much, everything is going to be fine, he's sure.

Absolutely fine.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Morning." You mumble as you step out of your bedroom, rubbing your eyes blearily. Chloe's giggles woke you up, and you could hear Ricky moving around in the kitchen, the smell of breakfast. You didn't realize he was a cook, but you suppose having to raise a kid will make you learn some skills in that department.

"Morning," Ricky replies, glancing at you from the stove. He made pancakes, cut up the strawberries to go on top of it like Chloe likes, and he's just finishing up the last batch now. His daughter already sits at the table, swinging her legs back and forth in the tall chair. Her hair is pulled back from her face with a little bow, and she looks bright and happy already.

God she's a morning child.

"Coffee?" You mumble, shuffling forward to the pot as Ricky inclines his head; there's already a full pot of it, he's a coffee drinker too, although he likes his with more cream and for it to not be like mud. You don't seem to have a preference.

"Daddy, are we still going to the zoo today?" Chloe asks after a moment, poking at what's left of her breakfast. "I wanna see the bears!"

Bears?

"Yeah, we're still going." Ricky replies, flicking the knob to turn the stove eye off, lifting the hot pan to the free side. He grabs a plate from the cabinet above, lifting the pancakes onto it. He glances at you, but you're sipping from a big white mug, barely lifting your lips from it before you're sipping again.

Right, not a morning person.

He nudges the plate at you carefully, and you send him a sidelong glance before you can muster a crooked smile. Your eyes flick to the clock, but the shop doesn't open until ten AM on the weekends, so you have an hour. "What, um, time are you guys going?" You clear your throat, your voice still rough from sleeping.

"Around lunch. We can wait later if you want to go."

"No, that's fine. I have a lot of work to catch up on, but you have fun." You reply, seeing Chloe's face fall. "We'll all go another time."

"That's what Mommy always says," Chloe sighs, propping her chin on her hand. "But she never wants to go."

"I'll make it up to you. What do you want for dinner?" you ask, finally taking the plate Ricky made for you. He's already settling at your small kitchen table, stifling a yawn behind his hand. He didn't sleep well, he couldn't get comfortable. Chloe kept nudging him to the edge of the bed.

"Pasta!" Chloe's answer is immediate. "The twirly kind!"

"Spaghetti?"

"Yes! Like what we made before for Daddy and Uncle Ryan."

Easy peasy. "Alright, so we'll have twirly pasta for dinner." You say, hesitating before you sit down beside Ricky, taking the syrup from the center of the table. You feel weird, all of you sitting here, it's so... family-like. Is that okay? Like, is this what you're supposed to be doing?

"Cool! Daddy, is there more strawberries?"

"On the counter." Ricky lifts his mug to his lips, and you notice the guitar on the front, the paint chipping. Chloe hops to her feet, and you watch as she slowly lifts the small plastic bowl of fruit up, a focused look on her face as she carries it back to the table. She's dressed in a red dress with white polka dots, all she needs is mouse ears and she'd be an adorable Minnie Mouse.

At least her mother has good taste in clothing.

"I need to get ready for work," you sigh over your pancakes, taking a big bite before standing up. You pat Ricky on the shoulder as you pass, heading for your bedroom and nudging the door shut behind you. His eyes flick to Chloe as she plops into her chair, and he frowns as she dumps the container of fruit on the remnants of her pancake.

Maybe all the sugar was not his best plan.

"We'll work on getting your room fixed up for you," he says after a moment, nudging her glass of milk closer to her.  "We can go shopping for some decorations if you like."

"Okay." Chloe seems more interested in her breakfast than conversation, and her father sighs, propping his chin on his hand as he watches her eat. What the hell is he going to do with her? If he gets full custody, he'll have to get a new apartment, so she can have her own space. The house he rents with Ryan only has two bedrooms, and obviously he's not going to let her live in the basement.

This living arrangement is only temporary, so he doesn't want to do anything permanent to the room. But maybe some posters, little photos, Chloe likes drawing, so maybe an art table in the corner once he does something with all his boxes. He could get it nice and settled for her, he just wants her to be comfortable.

"I'm done," Chloe suddenly shoves her plate away, and he glances at the leftover strawberries with an internal sigh. "Can we go to the zoo now?"

"In a little bit," Ricky finishes his coffee quickly before he gathers the plates, leaving yours just in case you're not finished. He steps to the sink just as your bedroom door opens. Ah, yes, your prison jumpsuit makes its appearance, grease stains and all. You're putting your hair up, and you give them both a smile.

"Alright, I'm heading down to open up the shop." You say, pleased to see your plate remains. You lift up your fork, grabbing the last bites of pancakes. You should have woke up earlier, but you forgot to set an alarm last night, so now you're in a hurry. "I'll see you guys for dinner. Chloe, you want to help me make it?"

"Yes!" Chloe brightens at the idea. "I get to do the sauce again?"

"Yes."

"Awesome!"

You've never seen someone so excited about stirring sauce out of a jar.

"Have a good day," Ricky says after a moment, his cheeks warming. Wow, this is... weird. He's at the sink, washing up dishes, and you're getting ready to go work on cars and... he feels like this should be reversed, but that would be sexist, right? Or would it? He's not sure, you've always been a more hands-on kind of person anyway, but all the power to you.

You send him an amused look as you drop your plate into the sink steadily filling with bubbles from the soap. "You too, honey bun. Don't wash too many dishes today, okay?"

He rolls his eyes, grimacing at you as you chuckle.

Yeah, this marriage is going to go just great.

Tags:  @svintsandghosts @batgirl09151997  @ nokomihorror @ryansitkowskiswifey, @theoneandonlykymberlee,  maelloute,  musicsexandpizza69,  jojomiwbvb6

[niallsstainedcoffeecup]

The Road Trip Part 1

Hey guys, this is a new Bestfriend!Harry series.  Harry and his best friend, Luna, go on a trip together, but Luna’s boyfriend ruins it all.  Feedback and requests are welcomed.  Enjoy!

            Harry tugged the bulky orange suitcase down the cobblestone path. He huffed, hoisted the luggage over his shoulder, dropping the case in the tiny trunk.  He hoped there was not another suitcase awaiting him in her house.  His best friend, Luna, leaned against the cool gray brick wall.  Luna frantically scrolled through her phone, thumb hovering over her boyfriend’s contact. Harry planned a summer road trip since Luna dreamt of touring the world as a child.  Harry enjoyed watching Luna’s eyes light up with joy and curiosity. Harry remembered when he brought her along with him to an art opening, and Harry would never forget how she bounced with joy all night.  What was the only downside to their trip?  Luna’s annoying boyfriend invited himself.  Now, they were thirty minutes late, waiting for Luna’s boyfriend to show up. Harry remembered meeting Luna’s boyfriend, Daniel, at a house party.  Daniel, a handsome man, but could kill a party in a matter of seconds.  The man spewed random facts that put everyone to sleep.  Luna chewed on her nails, waiting for Daniel to answer his phone.   “Hello?” His thick British accent rang out. “Babe, where are you?  Harry and I are waiting for you,” She mumbled. Harry rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, “Yeah, like I’m a ball of happiness waiting for him to show up.” She glared, bumping Harry’s hip with her own. Harry chuckled, deciding to lock up her house while she spoke with Daniel.   “Okay, we will pick you up.” Harry groaned internally, refusing to travel an extra fifteen miles to Daniel’s house.  Harry prepared to throw a tantrum, but his icy heart melted when he caught sight of her wide grin.  It would only be a few months with the man.            Daniel packed three suitcases, overloading the trunk.  Harry assumed half of the suitcases contained books since Daniel curled up in the backseat and read Moby Dick.  Harry attempted to read that book once for a class but resorted to spark notes after ten minutes of deciphering the text.  Luna sat next to Harry, fiddling with the radio stations.  Harry enjoyed trips with Luna because she was the ideal passenger. Luna played the best music, fed Harry snacks they had purchased at local shops, and talked enough to keep Harry awake. Daniel noted Luna feeding Harry chips and Haribo, growling with jealousy.  Daniel despised Harry.  Harry followed Luna around with hearts in his eyes, and Daniel assumed asking Luna to be his girlfriend would tell Harry that she was off limits, but it had not worked. Luna squealed, yanking her fingers away from Harry’s rosy lips.  Harry laughed, licking her thumb again, after accidentally brushing his tongue against her fingers when he grabbed a green gummy bear.   “Can I have the yellow ones?” She wondered. Harry nodded, “Of course, you know that the yellow ones remind me of cleaning products.  How could you like them?” She chuckled, “I don’t know.  I guess I’m a weirdo.” “We knew that,” Harry joked. Daniel rolled his eyes, slamming his book shut. Harry glanced back, smirking at Daniel’s furrowed eyebrows.  Harry felt thrilled when he annoyed Daniel.   “How’s the book?” Harry asked. “Great, it is my fifth time reading it.  The music playing makes it hard to focus,” Daniel grumbles.   Luna frowned, twisting the knob to lower Stevie Nicks’ voice.  Harry scowled, refusing to let Daniel control this trip. “Didn’t know that my gran is with us,” Harry hissed. Luna frowned, disappointed with Harry’s behavior.  Harry ignored her stare, focusing on the road.   “Harry, have you read Moby Dick?” Daniel asked, leaning his elbows on his knees.   Harry nodded, “Professor Goldstein assigned it sophomore year.  I nearly died that semester.” Luna giggled, praying Daniel would not retort with a backhanded comment. “Well, I guess you did not understand the symbolism.  Some people can’t wrap their minds around great literature.” Harry’s blood boiled.  His fist tightened around the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.  Harry opened his mouth, preparing the best argument, but Luna interrupted him. “I finished Fifty Shades of Gray,” She blurted out. Harry smiled, relaxing his muscles, “Did you?” She laughed, “Yeah, that is the last time I let Niall choose the book for our club.” “I’m surprised he didn’t force you to read Golfer’s Digest,” Harry joked. “He nearly did, but Kassie stopped him.” “Bless Kassie, she saved that boy,” Harry tsked, shaking his head. Luna nodded, zoning out on the scenery around her.  Daniel continued planning his next attack on Harry.  An entire trip with that man was too long for Daniel.            Harry yawned for the fourth time, searching for their hotel.  Daniel snoozed in the backseat, cuddling Moby Dick into his chest.  Luna leaned her head against the window, her pale cheek smushed against the cool glass. Harry watched as her lips parted, allowing small puffs of air to flutter out.  Harry grinned, covering her arms with his sweatshirt.  Harry found the neon blue sign, parking in the filled lot. Harry groaned, stretching out his arms. He reached across the console, nudging her cheeks with his thumbs.  She whined, eyebrows furrowing, as she buried herself deeper into his passenger seat.   “Love, we arrived.  You need to wake up,” Harry softly whispered.   Harry spent years learning how to wake up Luna. One must softly nudge her into consciousness, then talk softly because her ears are still sensitive.  When Luna is fully awake, one must prepare for cuddles and promise that she can rest soon.  “Can you carry me?” Harry’s heart skipped a beat.   Usually, he would lift her up and carry her into the hotel, but Daniel would throw a fit.   “I would, but Daniel would have my head. How about you get up, and I’ll repay you with chocolate chips muffins.” She cracked an eye open, “And a tall iced latte?” Harry chuckled, “Yes.” She moaned and groaned, gathering her phone and snacks.  Harry flipped around, swatting Daniel on the forehead.  Daniel jumped awake, shooting daggers at Harry.   “Oh, I’m sorry, I did not know that was your forehead.  Anyways, we have a hotel room to catch.” Daniel huffed, climbing out of Harry’s car. Luna opened her arms, falling into Daniel’s side.  Harry bit his lip because he knew that if Daniel weren’t here, Luna would be cuddled into his side right now.  Harry pulled each suitcase out, carrying his toward the check-in desk.  Harry helped Daniel once their room keys were in their pockets.  Daniel trudged past Harry’s room, but Luna stopped.  She smiled sadly, watching Harry open his door.   “Are you okay?” She asked. Harry turned toward his dark hotel room. Usually, Luna shared a room with him on every trip.  His mom, Anne, stopped setting up the guest room since Luna and Harry shared his bed. Harry wanted to hold onto Luna and tell Daniel to fuck off, but he simply nodded. “Great, breakfast tomorrow?”  She asked, bouncing on her tiptoes. Harry grinned, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Harry bent down, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.  She froze, blushing at the contact.  Harry smirked, watching her stumble away while waving at him.  Harry shut his door, allowing his tired eyes to close. Luna shut her door, regulating her breathing after Harry’s peck.  Daniel looked up from his book, winking at her. “Are you tired?” He asked, patting the spot on the bed next to him. She frowned, “I have an early morning with Harry.  We have this breakfast shop we want to try.” “Am I not invited?” Daniel asked, perking up. She rolled her eyes, “Of course, why would you not be invited?” “I don’t know.  You said that you and Harry had plans.  You did not specify that I was included in them.” “What’s wrong with you?” She noticed his cold tone. He fluffed his pillow, “You always do things with him.  We are exploring the world, shouldn’t we be doing things as a couple?” “We are doing things as a couple.  Harry is apart of the package deal.  You understood that when you asked me to be your girlfriend,” She hissed, throwing her t-shirt onto the ground. “Fine, let’s just go to sleep,” He huffed. “I’ll be right there,” She mumbled, slipping into her nightgown.   She slid open the balcony door, stepping out into the cool summer night wind.  She stared up at the constellations, organizing her thoughts. She did not understand where Daniel’s jealousy came from, but she was not a fan.  Maybe Harry spent too much time with her, but where else would he go?            Harry hummed along with Shania Twain his fingers tossed his hair around. Harry recently ditched his long locks, which upset Luna.  He remembered her complaint being, “Now, I can’t call you Tarzan.  What will I call you?”  Harry fixed his hair, giving up on a stray strand that hovered over his right eyebrow.  Harry zipped up his black jeans, tossed on a white t-shirt, and slid his feet into a pair of brown boots.  Harry skipped down the musty hall, halting at Luna’s door.  He lifted his fist, knocking twice.  Luna squealed, spritzing vanilla perfume on her skin.  Daniel rolled his eyes, collecting her wallet and his book.  Luna cracked open the door. “Who is it?” She asked, attempting to quiet her giggles. Harry bit back his giggles, “Maid service.” “Oh great, I left quite the mess,”  She yanked open the door, gasping when she saw Harry.   By this time Harry and Luna were in a fit of giggles, “What a handsome maid.” Daniel stood there, feeling confused and irritated.  They had not left a mess in their room, and why was Harry this perky at seven in the morning.   “It’s an inside joke,” Luna explained, catching sight of Daniel’s expression. “Yeah, one time, Luna called the maid since she accidentally spilled soda on the carpet.  I had left to grab a movie, and when I returned she thought I was the maid.” “I guess it’s a ‘should have been there’ type of joke,” Daniel complained. Luna frowned, “Well, let’s grab breakfast.” Harry nodded, offering a hand to her. Usually, Luna held Harry’s hands wherever they went.  Luna blamed her cold hands on poor circulation, so Harry warmed them with his own. Luna looked over at Daniel’s raised eyebrow.  She nodded, nudging Harry’s side.  Harry noticed the sorrow and yearning in her eyes.  His smile fell, and so did his heart.  He nodded, watching Daniel link elbows with Luna.  Harry glared because Luna hated linking elbows.  She complained that linking elbows made her feel awkward.  What was she supposed to do with her arm?  Harry swallowed his comments, walking toward the elevator.   “How did you sleep?” Daniel asked Harry. Harry smiled, “Wonderful.  How did you sleep?” “Great, Luna didn’t hog the blankets last night.” Luna chuckled awkwardly, “I forgot my second blanket.” Harry frowned, Luna needed multiple blankets to stay warm throughout the night.  Harry supplied her with three blankets each time they had a sleepover.  How could Daniel laugh it off while his girlfriend barely slept?            The tiny brick café smelt of delicious baked goods.  Luna’s stomach growled as soon as she stepped inside. Harry’s mouth watered, examining each muffin and bread they had.  Daniel whined about the bitter coffee scent.   “What are you going to order?” Harry asked Luna. Luna checked the menu again, “I want an egg croissant, but I want to try a chocolate chip muffin.” “Why not get both?” Harry wondered. “This is why I love you,” She smiled, leaning into Harry. Harry smiled, “I love you too.” They each ordered their items.  Harry decided on two slices of their lemon poppy bread, Luna ordered the croissant and the muffin, and Daniel chose a slice of banana bread.   “Can we sit outside?  Please?  It looks beautiful.  The sun is coming out, they have vines draping down the umbrellas, and we can people watch!” Harry nodded, “Sure, anything you want dear.” She rolled her eyes, swatting at Harry. Harry watched her run out to grab a table.  She waved, pointing toward a table near the sidewalk.  Luna enjoyed watching people go about their lives and making up stories based on the short encounter.  Harry loved each story.   “Are you in love with her?” Daniel spoke up, startling Harry.   “Geez, where did you come from?” Harry asked, gripping his chest. Daniel rolled his eyes, “Answer me.” Harry rolled his eyes this time, “Commanding, how attractive.  No, I am not in love with Luna.  We’ve been best friends since middle school.  She understands me better than I understand myself sometimes, but I do not love her.  You can back off now.” “Oh, I’m not jealous.  I wanted to make it clear that she is mine.  She never thinks of you in bed,” Daniel bragged. Harry clenched his jaw, “Great.  Just don’t call her yours because she is an independent woman.  She could drop you in a second and never care.  Now, shall we join her?” Daniel watched Harry scamper off,  “I’ll make her hate you.” “What took you so long?” Luna asked Daniel, noticing he arrived later than Harry had. “Bathroom,” Daniel mumbled. Harry pointed his fork toward an elderly lady talking animatedly on the phone, “What’s her story.” Luna nodded, “Ah, Karen.  She recently divorced her husband because he cheated on her with the pool boy.  Right now, she’s exploding on a sandwich shop employee about her divorce.  She’ll never find love again, except in cheap wine bottles.” “Wow, what a tragedy,” Harry mumbled, wiping away a fake tear. “Sometimes people fall out of love.”            “Are you ready to explore?” Daniel asked, stepping into the hotel with Luna and Harry. “Sure, where should we go?” Luna questioned. Harry looked around the hotel, “Actually, you go ahead.  I’ll catch up with you two later.” “What?  I thought we wanted to do this together,” Luna complained. “I do, but I need to grab something. Have fun with Daniel,” Harry mumbled, pecking her cheek before jogging off. Daniel nearly cheered, thinking Harry understood his message about leaving Luna alone.   Luna pouted, turning toward Daniel, “Where should we go?” “I found a bookstore around here.  Shall we visit it?” Luna shrugged, wishing Harry was here to make some stupid joke.   Harry drove down crowded streets, searching for the shop.  Harry smiled parking at some dimly lit store.  Harry stumbled through the front door, breathing in the cinnamon candle scent. An elderly lady rushed toward Harry. The short, chubby lady reminded Harry of his gran.  Happiness and comfort emitted from the woman. “Hello dear, how may I help you?” Her honey-sweet voice warmed Harry. “I’m searching for your quilted blankets. My best friend left her blanket at home, and we are traveling all summer.  I figured I’d buy her one,” Harry blushed. She grinned, “Right this way.  We have a wide selection of quilts.  My daughters and I knit each one.” Harry gripped the soft cloth, feeling his muscles relax, “Wow, these feel amazing.  I might have to buy two.” “We would love that.  Everyone buys quilts online, so our customers have disappeared.” Harry frowned, “I’m sorry.” “It’s okay, everything will be okay. I’ll be at the desk when you are ready,” The woman flashed one last smile before leaving Harry alone. Harry grabbed a lavender quilt for Luna, a blue one for himself, and three of the yellow ones.  Harry did not need five new quilts, but he wanted to help the shop. “Wow, you are purchasing five quilts?” “Yes ma’am, these quilts are amazing.” The woman grinned, ringing up Harry’s quilts. Harry enjoyed making people’s lives better.  Harry walked out of the store, proud that he made that woman’s day.  He messaged Luna, telling her to meet him at the hotel.              Luna dragged Daniel down the street, eager to see Harry.  Daniel spent an hour discussing books with another woman. The doe-eyed woman checked out Daniel too many times for Luna.  Luna attempted to pull Daniel away, but he waved her off.  She finally left him alone, missing the moment when he saved the other woman’s number on his phone.  Now, Daniel boiled with anger.  He had to leave because of Harry.  Luna waited impatiently in the elevator, watching the glowing red digits change on each floor.  Harry sat on his bed, tapping his feet.  Luna knocked on the door, opening it only a second later. “Harry, what is the surprise?” She asked, eyes searching around his room.   Harry laughed, removing his hands from behind his back, revealing the quilt.  Luna squealed with joy, reaching for the blanket. “Thank you. You are a lifesaver.  I hate sleeping without an extra blanket!” Daniel glared, watching Harry buy his girlfriend another gift.  Harry constantly surprised Luna with tiny gifts, which Daniel would buy if Harry didn’t beat him to the punch.   “I bought you one too.  I didn’t know what color you wanted, so I bought you a yellow.” Daniel forced a smile on his face, “Thank you.” “What were you two doing?” “Daniel took us to this bookstore.  It was amazing,” Luna cooed, smiling up at Daniel. Daniel smirked, capturing her plump lips with his thin lips.  Harry winced, looking away from his best friend making out with her boyfriend. “Well, how about we go see that art museum? I’ll even bring my camera.” “Yes, Harry takes the best photos,” Luna gushed.   Harry chuckled, loading up the film into his camera.   “I mean, he’s an art major.  Shouldn’t he be good at photography?” Daniel wondered. “No, I could suck at it.  That would be ironic,” Harry joked. Daniel nodded, chuckling lightly to break the tension.  Luna gripped Daniel’s hand, moving toward the door.  Harry followed, locking his hotel room.  Maybe things with Daniel would get better with time.  

[crimsonandclover-kataclysm]

Chapter 2- She’s waiting for the bell

January, 1985. Hawkins, Indiana

Mrs. Simmons was resisting. Out of all the water aerobics participants, she was usually the most enthusiastic, but Diana knew that she had some recent health issues and her arthritis was causing her more frequent pain. She was complaining fairly often in this session, giving up on repetitions, and being overall disruptive. For a moment, Diana thought she was dealing with eighth graders again. Diana had come to realize that she really enjoyed teaching. And not just kids either- her time spent at the senior center was every bit as valuable. It had only been a few weeks, but Diana felt like she was gaining so much more than what she was giving, and on top of that, she was making money all the while.

Except Mrs. Simmons kept nagging Di about the pace being too quick, and that caused Diana to want to pull her hair out. And Mrs. Simmons’. 

Class finished, and Diana breathed a sigh of relief, smiling at Mrs. Ellis and Mrs. Poole as they waved goodbye. Toweling dry, she headed to the locker room to dress. She changed quickly into her new pair of loose-fitting, patterned capri pants and the flowing, lightweight blouse her mother insisted on buying her.

Sandra had woken her up early with Betty the Saturday after Hart gave the okay for Diana to work at the middle school. Without much hint to where they were going, Di slipped on some clothes and followed them out to the car. “Your teacher wardrobe is terrible,” her mother explained on the way to the Roane County Mall. “We are getting you some real clothes.” The sentiment wasn’t totally unfair - Diana was on a rotation of sweatshirts and had just worn a hole through her last pair of black leggings. However, from the crowded racks of clothes in the department store to the utter lunacy of finding something in Diana’s price range that she actually liked, less than half an hour was necessary for Diana to remember why she absolutely detested shopping. As it turned out, she was almost grateful to Betty and her mother for the fact that she spent more time in the fitting rooms than on the floor. She didn’t hate trying things on. Just decision making. And dealing with strangers.

The trip yielded some pretty good results. Diana walked out with two new pairs of leggings, around seven loose and breathable blouses, and three types of pants that allowed for movement. Looking at herself in the locker room mirror, she had to admit that it was an improvement on what she wore to her first week. She tugged the scrunchie out of her hair so that loose waves of chocolate fell around her shoulders. As she studied her reflection, she didn’t hate what she saw. Objectively, she looked like an athlete, with broad shoulders that lead down to slim, toned arms, a trimmed waist, and the muscular legs of a runner. She had her mom to thank for her thick, dark hair, and most of her facial features as well. Solid blue eyes fanned by curled lashes, a delicately shaped nose, and a wide, toothy smile. She liked that she favored her mother. Really, the only features of her father’s that she wanted to keep were her naturally thick eyebrows and the small dimple in the middle of her chin. She stayed out of the sun for fear of adopting her father’s olive complexion. Diana thought she looked earthy, like she was always two steps removed from living on a desert island, so she brought out the feminine features that she did have by wearing makeup only shaded in soft pinks. Irrational as it was, she felt like rounding out the angles of her face distanced herself from Kenneth’s sharp jawline and cheekbones.

Blinking a few times at her reflection, Diana remembered that she left her bike at school opting to just walk to the gym. However, 24 Hour Fitness was located on Washington and Kinley, just a block down from the General Store, meaning she was closer to home. Going back to school for the bike would just take her out of the way. She liked running anyway. Zipping up her coat as high as she could and tightening her shoelaces and backpack straps, Diana took off out of the gym in order to make it to her house by dark, prepared for it to be much cooler than it was. Hawkins had been considerably less predictable in regards to the weather over the past couple of months. Despite it being the second week of January, the temperature was quite high, sitting around fifty degrees mid-afternoon. Di actually began to sweat underneath her coat, even with the fading sunlight. All around her were barren trees, though, and the sky was perpetually fixed on a dull gray. She turned the corner onto her street. As she passed the neighboring houses, she noticed a familiar figure standing on his porch repping bicep curls with a barbell. She could have sworn that Billy Hargrove almost smiled at her.

Schoolwork was becoming a little more difficult to juggle. Almost a month into the semester, Di was having to find a balance between homework, keeping in shape, maintaining her chores, teaching water aerobics, and some odd babysitting jobs here and there. Working with Coach Hart had turned out to be the least disruptive part of her schedule, and she was still having a blast doing it. Even the most mundane of tasks became the work that Diana looked forward to completing, the jobs that gave her the most satisfaction. When Hart told her that she could reorganize the equipment closet to season and relevance, she walked in proud with her mother’s label maker. Going above and beyond to create a specific and up to date inventory for herself, she went so far as to include benchmarks on required upkeep for the equipment and the time periods that those would have to be managed. And even all of that didn’t include the fun of teaching.

Diana Miller, for most of the time, was perfectly fine being left alone. Though she enjoyed company of many different types of people, she wasn’t uncomfortable being in her own head. But Diana could totally and completely admit that she was at her happiest when working with the kids at the middle school. Smart and witty, the eighth graders kept Di on her toes, and it helped that they were weird. Having grown up being the tall, athletic girl who spent a summer traipsing the country with her single mother, Diana knew weird. But she was nothing compared to the students she worked with, and it was fun for her to see their personalities and watch them interact. Above all, she truly loved helping them. Several had approached her outside of class to ask advice on high school courses and social entanglements, to which she would respond happily and honestly.

And even though she knew it was wrong, she had picked out her favorites. She was convinced that some of the best students did not really need her as a teacher at all, and then the others, who may have struggled, made up for their physical deficiencies in intelligence and work ethic. There was Libby, who reminded Diana of a younger version of herself. Strong-willed and fast, Libby could kick the lights out of anyone who challenged her in soccer and tennis. Sam had a great arm- he could pitch and toss and catch, and he made a point to help out those who struggled. Christine could recite each bone in the body without hesitation while also knowing the best exercises to keep up the different functions within the body. Max Hargrove was also among the naturally gifted, gliding quickly whenever wheels were placed beneath her feet. She hung around a lanky kid named Lucas who, at the very least, had phenomenal aim.

Then there was Dustin. Diana absolutely adored Dustin. He had very little inherent athletic ability, but he was bright and positive, and he made a point to respond enthusiastically to each and every one of her suggestions. She had the vague thought that he may have had a little crush on her, but as long as he did his work to the best of his ability, she wasn’t bothered by it.

Birdies were flying over volleyball nets in the gym, and the fault was completely Diana’s. The idea of Badminton always appealed to her, and she had convinced Coach to test out a unit with a few cheap birdies and tennis rackets. With the birdies being so lightweight, there was less inflicted damage than in tennis, and typically it didn’t require as much strength or precision to succeed. Students really seemed to enjoy playing, and Gracie was dominating everyone she faced. Dustin seemed distracted, though, and Diana understood why when Steve entered the gym toward the end of class.

Steve Harrington stood tall and proud with hair that just didn’t quit. He was something of class royalty among the seniors, and Betty had been crushing on him since about the fourth grade. He noticed Dustin and gave a slight nod, taking a seat on the furthest set of bleachers and resting his shoulders on his knees, eyes alert with a grin on his face. From then on, Dustin was a mess. Hyperactive laughing, inattentive and bumping into other kids, maybe hitting two out of seven birdies in total (except Diana was counting the one that soared over the net straight into Dustin’s forehead, which she considered pretty generous), all while his eyes flitted back and forth from Steve.

Coach blew the whistle, and the kids routinely put back all the equipment and headed into the locker rooms to change. As she was checking the rackets, Steve sauntered over to Diana.

She looked up, raising her eyebrows as she tutted reproachfully. “You, sir, are not allowed in here anymore. Poor Dustin lost his mind.”

Steve huffed out a laugh, rubbing his fingers over his lips. “Yeah, the little shit stinks, doesn’t he?” Diana nodded, a grin stretched wide across her face. “We’ve got a standing library date- he helps me with the books, I help him with the looks, you know.”

Diana heard Steve, and started to contort her face into a reaction, but Calculus swam in front of her eyes, mixing with French to form its own terrifying language. Steve noticed her pale in color. “You alright, Di?” he asked warily, turning his head to glance around the room, his hand going to the small of her back protectively.

She shook her head quickly, vision blanking before settling on his look of concern. “What? Oh, yes, just a lot of homework.” A lot.

“Come to the library with us. We’ll keep you on track,” he offered with a weak smile, pulling his hand away and crossing his arms over his chest. Breathing a sigh of relief as he could only do after watching someone look as if they were seeing a ghost. Or something else. She shot him a thoughtful glance before nodding yes. In the time it took for Dustin to rejoin them, Di was able to finish tidying up the gym, closing up the electric blue matting on the wall that covered the storage space for the volleyball net. Dustin’s eyes lit up at the prospect of a new addition to the group, especially this addition, Diana thought. As they began to walk out of the gym, Dustin started on what must have been twenty different questions for Steve. “How was your day? Did you ace that science quiz? Did you see me hit the birdie?-“ he continued speaking, barely letting Steve get a word in, and Diana thought briefly about the dramatic difference in Steve over the years.

The Harringtons lived away from the rest of the neighborhood, secluded in the woods outside of town. Those woods bordered the property across the street from the Millers, so it was a straight shot walking through about an eighth of a mile through trees to reach their house. When Kenneth left, Mrs. Harrington offered to help Sandra get back on her feet by having her be a semi-permanent babysitter to Steve. Though Steve and Diana had gone to school with one another all their lives, they only began to really speak in the spring of their third grade year. Steve’s parents were top businessmen, so they went away frequently. Because Steve practically lived with Di, even at school they were inseparable, playing together during recess, sitting next to one another in class, pairing off on homework. Steve quickly became her adopted brother, and Sandra loved the bond of their little fragmented family. A year and a half later, when Sandra was able to support herself and pick up more jobs, and the Harringtons came home more often, Di and Steve would still interact. However, people get older, and people change, so though they were always cordial and though their friendship would never really dissipate, it also never really was the same. And then Steve grew tall and handsome and popular, and Di grew tall and pretty and reserved. Both of them knew they could have been better friends for longer, but neither of them ever challenged it as they grew apart.

Dustin was still talking while the three of them stopped at his locker. Out of the corner of her eye, Di could see Max and Lucas, close enough to one another to be holding hands discreetly. Lucas said something that made Max belly laugh, and a smile crept across Diana’s face at seeing Max light up the way she did. Suddenly, Max pulled away from Lucas, eyes focused on the clock hung above the door, “Shit, I’m late.” Lucas nodded frantically heading in the opposite direction to the trio. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he called. Max gave a short nod and ran towards the front of the school building.

By this point, Dustin had stopped speaking. He was looking at Steve with a funny expression- wide eyed and open mouthed. Steve shook his head and shrugged. Whatever was happening in this exchange, Diana didn’t understand, so she began walking the same path Max took to the entrance. The two boys followed a little further behind, and Diana heard hushed whispers, rolling her eyes at the secrecy. Books held against her body with one hand, she pushed the door open, noticing the passenger door slam on the bright blue Camaro parked right out front. Billy looked livid, breathing heavily with his fists clenched at his sides. He was in the same position as the last time she saw him outside the school, leaning against the trunk of his car. Hearing the sound of the door, his eyes shot up to her. Studying her, she saw that same sly smile play at his lips, however it was gone as soon as it had come. His eyes were focused behind her.

“Harrington!” he called, almost angrily, pushing off of his vehicle and strutting toward the three of them. “What’d I tell you?” His gait was slow and relaxed as he strode toward Steve. Dangling out of his mouth was a cigarette, and as he walked past Diana, his eyes flickered to her and then back to the boys behind her.

Relaxing back on his heels, Steve matched Billy’s stride until there was only a foot between them. Dustin was almost entirely behind Steve until Di’s fingers cinched around the arm of his coat sleeve and she yanked him toward the bike rack. “What are you on about, Hargrove?” Steve was calm and resolute, and Billy wrapped his arm around Steve’s shoulders.

Steve tensed with Billy’s hand gripping him so tightly. They were close enough that Steve might as well have been enjoying the cigarette too, tendrils of smoke billowing up into his face. When Billy spoke, his attention was toward the ground and his voice was low. “Plenty of bitches. I just… you know, I wish you’d saved me this one,” he took the cigarette out of his mouth as he spoke, gesturing in small sympathetic waves.

Diana watched the odd exchange closely, and though she was not able to discern what Billy said, she did see the muscle in Steve’s jaw tense. She watched him elbow Billy away, responding with a quick, “Screw you.” Taking large steps to close the distance between him and Dustin.

Billy turned slowly, a smirk settled upon his face as his eyes followed the three of them. He saw just enough red to give him that rush. The kind that rose like flames through his gut but didn’t yet overcome his actions. Then he remembered that Max made him wait again, on top of King Steve winning out and getting the one girl that interested him. His fingernails dug into the palms of his hands, enough to draw blood to the surface. Eyes narrowed and mouth clamped shut, he took slow, careful steps toward his car.

Steve was mum on his interaction with Billy. No matter how many times Dustin pestered him about it, he pinched his lips closed and shook his head. Diana figured adding fuel to the fire wasn't appropriate, so she sat quietly and studied her history notes. The quiet shuffling of bodies through the library helped her concentrate, and by the time Dustin and Steve were ready to leave, she had accomplished nearly twice as much more than she would have at home, she suspected. The three parted ways after Steve drove them back to the school so Di could get her bike, and she started home, standing on the pedals for more power. Wind nipped at Diana’s cheeks, and with the change in weather, even her coat wasn’t offering her too much protection. As she rode down her street, she noticed Max sitting on the steps outside her house with a roll of duct tape and her skateboard, split in two. Skidding to a stop, she propped her bike up on the mailbox and walked toward Max, sitting down next to her on the stoop. Max gave her a small smile, but Diana could tell by the aggression in her taping up her board that smiling was not something she felt like doing.

“Isn’t it a little cold for you to be out here doing this?” Diana asked, grabbing the two parts of the board and holding them still so Max could tape evenly.

Max lined up the tape precisely and pressed it down with care, smoothing out any creases and bubbles.Then she grumbled, tilting her head toward the house, “I wasn’t about to do it in there.” Di nodded as she twisted her lips to the side, helping Max rip the tape after a few more wraps.

“The hell is this?” Max tensed out of recognition. Circumstances with Billy had improved after their tête-a-tête at the Byers’ back in November, but now that things had calmed and Max wasn’t wielding a bat chock full of nails, Billy’s anger had started to get the best of him. They had an… understanding, but Max knew he hated the town and missed California more than he would let on. And since he wouldn’t talk about it, all he knew to do was get angry. Max respected that he was unhappy, she just wished he would distinguish between anger at a situation and anger at her. His inflection as he stood on the walk with his thumbs holding the waistline of his jeans was not angry though. From the lifted corner of his mouth to his raised eyebrow, Max thought it might have been playful.

Diana’s eyes scanned up Billy’s figure until she met his gaze. “Just saw your sister needed some help. I figure I’ve got the time.” Billy gave a slight nod, still wearing that signature smirk of his. “Besides, it must take a real creep to break a kid’s skateboard.” Max’s eyes shot up wide at Diana, while Billy’s narrowed at the challenge.

“Yeah, well to be fair, Maxine can be a piece of shit.”

Diana was not impressed, lifting up to her feet and dusting off her jeans. “From what I hear, so can her brother.” Her glare matched the intensity of the full, toothy smile that crept over his face.

His voice dropped half an octave as he took a step closer. “Oh? What else do you hear about me?”

His question was met with no response as Diana turned to Max, her cheeks heating up in frustration. “Maxine, if you ever need anything, I live in that house,” she pointed for emphasis. “Please do not hesitate to come by. You-“ she turned quickly to Billy, “you shouldn’t make a habit of breaking other people’s things. It could come back to bite you.” Billy’s mouth opened, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, his tongue swiped across his teeth in a laugh as Di jogged to her bike, throwing her leg over and pedaling away. Max’s gaze was fixed on Billy, whose eyes followed Diana down the street and as she took the steps by twos to her house. His hand came toward Max, and she almost fell off the step in trying to protect her board. It was a shock then, when Billy’s hand landed on top of her head, his fingers giving her hair a light ruffle. She looked at him, mouth agape, but he was still staring at the Miller house, fingertips of his other hand trailing over the grin on his lips.

[ascensionstories-blog]

Menace #45: The Flower Shop

There were many flower shops in New Monmouth City, but none quite so dear to Courtney as Martha’s. Just off of South Street, Martha’s Flower Emporium stood relatively firmly as a soft, pastel pink exterior. The doors were made of firm plastic (Courtney would say they were made of glass), and the roof — once shiny and golden — now showed signs of wear and tear through holes and dark spots. Still, Courtney had nothing but fond memories of Martha's; it was her mother’s flower shop of choice, and so Courtney had spent many days sitting in the lobby, surrounded by more types of flowers than she could name, while her mother shopped. It was a place that rung with a sort of cheap nostalgia: she could not remember a single fun experience she had had in the building. Instead, she felt the hours of time that had passed, along with the simple warmth of being a kid, and this was enough to get her back through the doors of Martha’s Flower Emporium.

“Hey, Pink!” Max called to her immediately as she stepped in. She quickly checked herself for any pink on her clothing, having forgotten about the damned flower boy. Every time she’d walk in, he’d call her “pink,” ever since they were both little kids. She ignored him mostly, but, having been away for so long, she felt some fondness for the nosy boy who pestered her so insistently as a child. She was unsure she was wearing pink the first day they met, but every day since then that she’d been forced to come to the flower shop, she would intentionally not wear pink. Still, Max was undeterred. She noted that her sleeveless top (not her idea, trust her) was a soft shade of lavender atop a black skirt and shoes. She silently praised herself for not wearing pink instinctually before turning to the boy.

“Hi, Max, still tending to the flowers, I see,” Courtney said, intending to sting him in some way with the remark, but realizing that what she said could easily be misinterpreted as a pleasant greeting. He smiled and nodded in response. The lobby of the shop was the most magnificent part, Courtney believed, lined with rows of different flowers in similar pots with their seeds in front of them in small packets for scale. The flowers were arranged by color, not species; frequently Courtney would watch Martha go through the rows to pick out a perfect assortment to decorate a lawn or porch. She had always been impressed, and still was as she looked across the lobby now. Her eyes caught on the the roses, as they always did account her middle name, and she smiled as she turned her focus back to Max. “I was wondering if I might speak to Martha?”

“You might and you might not,” Max answered, hiding a smile. “She’s home sick this week, left me to run the place. Is it something I could help you with?” He grinned at her, and she hated that. The two were friends, sure, as much as anyone is friends with the children of their parents’ friends. They knew enough to ask about each other whenever they were forced to meet, and had laughed together once or twice amongst all the teasing, but that was about it. Courtney looked at Max intently; her focus was elsewhere, otherwise the sight would have bothered her more. Does he know? Courtney asked herself. She shrugged and figured that a try would not hurt.

“I’m looking for some special flowers, one’s generally reserved for more inclined guests?” She asked the same way her mother always had, and bit the inside of her cheek afterwards. She was unsure why.

“Oh, you’re here for magic stuff then?” Max replied, unfazed. Not much got to Max, Courtney knew, despite the occasional bruises she’d notice they shared on her occasional visit. “Sure, no problem. We can go to the back now, if you like. There doesn’t seem to be any other business going on.” Courtney nodded as she followed the boy — dressed in green overalls and a black shirt of all things — into the backroom. The backroom was off limits for kids, her mother told her. Nothing important was going on back there anyway, she insisted. The lobby was far more interesting, she assured. Boy, was Mom a liar! Courtney thought as she entered the room.

The first idea that ran through her head was that the room reminded her of a volcano. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the back corner where large red-and-orange roses grew along the wall, curved in a way that almost looked like the red was flowing, dripping down from flower to flower in vibrant, neon colors. These were supported and accented by a series of charcoal-gray  which made the colorful asters which made the vibrant shades of red and orange pop out more, almost as though they were back lit. Leading down from this explosion of ferocious color, she noticed deep, blue irises spurting from the ground, revealing a small path through the room. The blue, upon further inspection, was not one consistent shade throughout rather, a bright blue rim traced the top and edges. The overhead lights were off, Courtney realized, which meant that the flowers were actually glowing. Across the room she noticed so many more vibrant and unnatural shades: green daisies, pink freesias, black carnations, and so many more. The room looked marvelous. She felt like she was standing in a painting.

“What are you looking for, Pink?” Max asked her.

“I… I don’t know,” Courtney admitted. “I was hoping to learn more about magic, and I figured Ma’s friend Martha could help me work through some things — but I never imagined something like this existed. Magic flowers?”

“It’s an old technique,” Max told her, “but it’s not very hard. Most people who know about it call it ‘sewing,’” Max explained. “I think it sounds a bit too much like ‘sowing,’ especially when applied to agricultural situations, but, hey, I don’t get to pick.” He smiled and laughed at what he said.

“How is that different from any other magic?” Courtney asked as she reached out and brushed one of the irises with her hand. It felt unnaturally cold to the touch, and she quickly brought her hand back as she continued to walk through the garden.

“Well, most people just blend.” Courtney stopped to look at him.

“Blend?”

“You really don't know anything, do you?”

“I had a bad teacher,” Courtney defended, blushing furiously and slowly grabbing her left arm with her right. “I’m not dumb or anything.”

“No, of course not,” Max teased, but, seeing the look on his face, pulled back. “Well, most people who use magic tend to utilize magic that comes to them naturally — ever wonder how the magic is ‘naturally’ assigned? It’s based on something like a color grade; some people burn brightly one color,” he lazily gestured to the roses, magnificent against the wall, “but others have more unique, natural inclinations,” he pointed to the irises lining the walkway and the green daisies, which had intricate patterns dancing across their petals. “My family has maintained some of the greatest magical gardens in the world for hundreds of years based on a few simple tricks that let us see the color itself, apart from the magic.”

“Can you teach me?” Courtney asked. It was Max’s turn to look askance.

“I don’t think Ma would like that,” Max told her.

“You said it was simple,” she reminded him. “And our families are close, Max, it’s not a huge deal. I just need to know — it could be life or death.” She felt as though she was exaggerating slightly, but she didn’t care. She figured that would hook him. He seemed to be hiding something, though, as far as Courtney could tell. Something beyond the usual hiding they did.

“I guess I could… we don’t have to tell her, I guess,” Max justified. “You sure it’s life or death?” Courtney nodded. “Well, I guess I don’t have a choice then… plus, I guess it gives us an excuse to spend time together again,” Max said, smiling at her. “Excuse me?” She asked, eyeing the boy.

“It’s just nice to see you, Pink,” he said. “We dejected-magicians have gotta stick together, right?”

“Oh, good, for a second there I thought you were flirting,” she said, flatly. He ran a gloved hand through his messy, brown hair and smiled at her awkwardly.

“If I was?”

“Then I’d let you know I’m not interested," she said, (again) flatly. “Now, colors.��

“Colors, right,” his eyes clicked back into focus as he started talking. “It’s real simple, and once you see it, you won’t be able to unsee it. I just have to show you the stem of one of the flowers,” he took her over to the red, pulsing flowers. He plucked one from the wall. “A rose for the lady?”

“Not interested,” she repeated, (once more) flatly. “The stem?” She asked.

“Look,” he brought the stem close to her eyes. “What do you see?”

“A plain, old green stem,” she commented.

“Look closer.”

“Is that — I see some, er, rings? I guess, rings. Of bright red and some mustardy yellow color. Is that it?”

“You got it, Pink,” he congratulated, setting the rose back in place.

“So how is this supposed to help me?”

“When you see magic now, just look at the stem of it. The source of it, underneath the pizazz  You’ll probably see something similar. That’s the color. Once you see it, you can try playing around with it. Most people can blend without knowing the colors; blending is quick, easy. It’s basically a fifty-fifty color split. In contrast, when you sew, you're choosing a base color and developing it before intertwining it with another color. Sometimes it makes the magic stronger, sometimes something completely different happens. I have to close up shop soon, would you like a flower, on the house, and, maybe, a walk home?”

“No thanks,” Courtney said, offering a hug and teasingly planting a kiss on his cheek before leaving. As she walked out of the store she called back, “Thank you!” and then wiped her lips as she kept moving away from the store. Walking back down South Street in her heels and sleeveless shirt, having kissed Max on the cheek, she felt very much like her mother. She felt squirmy. Why do boys have to hit on me? The child in her thought to herself. You're beautiful, dear, her mother’s voice snuck into her head. Shut up, she thought at herself. Now he’s gonna keep flirting, Courtney realized. Great. She frowned as she continued down the street, wondering about sewing and blending and all of the weird magical terminology that she had learned. If I have to kiss another boy again, Courtney thought, the kiss staying with her and returning over and over again as something she’d seen her mother do a thousand times, I’ll just deem the whole project not worth it.

She rushed home to change into something more comfortable as the sun began to set.

[gideonaceleigh]

Sights of Kalindor Part 1: The Prophecy

The meeting hall was fashioned with huge, soaring, gold-plated domes and towering white marble columns to hold the varying level of balconies circling the room up. The ceiling was decorated with a painting- in gold, and blue, and purple, and silver- of all the inhabited planets in the known universe, grouped into their respective galaxies and circling their stars. The painting was mounted on a mechanism that allowed the stars and planets to move, showing their current position in space. It was fascinating to sit and watch hundreds of pieces spinning like clock gears at a hundred different speeds. On the right two small, gold planets zoomed around a star so fast they could barely be seen, while a large, green planet around the same star moseyed along so slowly it didn’t appear to even be moving. On the left two stars, both silvery-purple, were set close together their planets seemed in risk of colliding, but they always managed to dodge a collision at the last minute.

My breath caught at the sight of it, immersed as I was in the moment with a child-like wonder. I’d watched the play of travel and near disaster for twenty years now but it never failed to send me back to the first time I’d seen it as a child and spent my entire initiation ceremony into the Academy in tears. My mom whispered comfort to me and my dad wiped away my tears but the terror of the moment couldn’t be washed away so easily.

“What do you think’s going on?” I jumped as a calloused hand grasped my shoulder and Ian flopped into the seat next to me.

“Oh,” I said. “I haven’t given it much thought.” But I did now. I turned my gaze to the platform above us, we weren’t initiates anymore so we weren’t on the floor, but we were still working our way up and had a modest view about half way up the tier. There were about 50 levels of balconies total, with only the ruling representatives in the upper 10 levels.

“Watching the planets align again, Morgana?” Ian smiled easily at me, his dark brown hair was swept up and back stylishly.

“They shouldn’t put all the important meetings somewhere so elegant. It’s distracting.”

“It is,” Ian agreed and joined me in gazing at the ceiling. It was more soothing than any lullaby.

Right as my eyes began to grow heavy and my body relaxes an overwhelming hush fell over the crowd and I straightened in my seat. An assistant in a gray suit with a forest green robe draped over her shoulders stood at the tip of the only balcony across from us, set about two thirds of the way up, waited for the hush to be absolute and raised her voice.

“Attention, attention! This assembly of the Academy is now in session. Please remain quiet while the Commander and High Seer present.” Her voice was powerful and, with the aid of a small speaker in the ceiling, reached every nook and cranny in the building. She bowed, her robe falling gently around her, and slipped out of sight.

In that moment of calm a breeze alerted me to the arrival of a newcomer. Fey glided into her customary seat next to Ian. I smiled at her in greeting and griped her hand from the other side of Ian. A quick squeeze and then we turned our attention to the balcony, waiting for whatever was too come. Something, a stray thought perhaps, unable to fully manifest, had been nagging at the back of my mind; a feeling of dread about what was going to happen here today.

The Commander in her dark blue suit and the High Seer in his deep purple robe stepped forward and surveyed the building at large.

“Thank you for accommodating us on such short notice,” the High Seer began. He was a tall man in his mid-fifties with dark brown hair peppered with gray. His fair was pale from years of research, his shoulders hunched, and delicate hands well suited to handling the fragile leaves of books. The High Seer was the head of my Order. The Seers were a group of psychically gifted individuals who were able to see into the future. Whether through day visions or dreams. These glimpses into the future were then recorded and archived by the Historians who kept track of any active prophecies.

The Commander stood stoically behind him, her hands clasped behind her back. Her brown eyes seemed unfocused but I knew from past experience that she noticed every little detail. She was of medium height with short cropped hair and dark skin with high cheekbones and a sharp nose. The Commander was in charge of our Order of Warriors. Kalindor was considered the metaphorical and intellectual center of the universe. Meaning we didn’t get involved in many, any, war or conflicts.  But we were occasional called on to mediate peace treaties. The military Order was part for show but largely as a way to keep prophecies in check and to moderate them. They made sure people did what they need to do and thing got where they needed to go. Prophecies can also be used to head off any major conflicts. Anything that would drastically upset the balance of the universe the military order would set straight again.

“I’m sure rumors have been flying regarding this meeting and recent events so we are here to set the record straight.” I could feel the energy in the room shift as everyone sat straighter in their seats. “What you’ve heard is true. The early signs of Elizabeth’s Cycle have come to pass.” The room exploded in an uproar and the High Seer let it.

It was a shock to my system to go from one voice calmly speaking to nearly a thousand frantic exclamations. My hand pressed over my frantically beating heart and I closed my eyes and I took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm myself. I focused on the familiar comfort of Ian and Fey’s conversation. Their quick voices trading off so rapidly that, from an outsider’s perspective, they seemed to talk over each other. But for me it was the soundtrack to calm days and peaceful nights, a way to ground myself amidst chaos. I reached out and pulled Ian’s hand to my lap, squeezing it between both of mine.

The High Seer gestured for quiet after a few minutes and the crowd redirected their attention. “Please do not be alarmed. We don’t know much yet, but what we do know so far is that this seems to be a slow acting prophecy. The Historians have been combing through the great books and found the initial act as far back as a century. There is no reason to panic when the final confrontation could be decades, if not more, away.”

I could feel the tension across the room lessen in a ripple. Ian behind her relaxed in his seat though he still gripped my hand like a vice, for which I was grateful as it acted as an anchor keeping me grounded in the moment.  

“I know you’re all well versed in the Cycle but it’s important to revisit it in this new context. I’ve had it brought here today so that we may view the events our historians have identified as have been,” he nodded to the technicians hanging back and they brought forward the transmitter, a stand made of white metal twisted into an intricate knot like tree roots that was topped with a flat surface. One of the historians, identified by his white robe, brought forward what looked like a black cube but was actually the electronic memory bank holding the recording of Elizabeth’s Cycle. He gently set the recording into the transmitter and stepped back. The transmitters hum reminded me of a hive of bees and the recording began to glow in a multitude of colors. The glow started out scattered but slowly it moved together, got its bearings, and focused itself upwards. The colors separated themselves and coalesced into a picture.  I watched spellbound, I’d never seen any of the recorded visions projected on this scale before, the picture was over half the height of the building itself.

The vision started with a ceiling view of a young man with straw yellow hair and pale skin. The scope of it is small, everything surrounding him was black. He was sitting at a desk hunched over something, we couldn’t see what yet, but he was very intent on it. Our view angle swooped down and in front of him to give us a clearer look. The desk was a mess, mechanical part were scattered everywhere and it was stained with oil and burn marks. The man pushed his thick rimmed glasses up his nose over his watery blue eyes. The thing he was hunched over was some indecipherable device that looked like nothing more than a pile of junk. He banged at the device in front of him with a wrench in obvious distress and nearly jumped out of his seat when a series of lights lining the top of it turned on. A grin split his face nearly in half then the scene went dark.

A new scene fell into place, the scope is broader in this one and we can see the entire room, though there isn’t much detail. We were in a conference room of some sort; there was a rectangular table with twelve chairs total, one on each end and five on either side. One side was held by Thelan’s, they were a tall race with varying shades of purple skin and green hair and eyes. The other side was dominated by Trin’s, who were a short, insectoid race. The ends were also taken by a representative from each race. There wasn’t much that could be made out sound-wise but the tone was unmistakable, they were arguing. It appeared to be a trade negotiation of some sort, but there was no way to tell. The Thelan’s were leaping out of their chairs and gesturing wildly with their long arms and the Trin’s antennae were twitching erratically. Suddenly the Trin on the end spit across the table and when the substance landed the whole table fell still. It was a declaration of war. Everyone stared at the spot for a few tense moments then the Thelan on the other end made a gesture with her hand and walked out, an acceptance of the Trin’s challenge. The rest of her race followed her out. The vision blinked out when the door she walked out closed behind the last Thelan.  

The vision had started out slow but the shift between scenes is growing faster, becoming more frantic and insistent.

A young girl with blonde hair held in two french braids down the side of her head appeared. She was curled up in bed, it was the middle of the night and she had the covers pulled up over her head. It took me a moment to realize why her face it illuminated, but then I realized she had a tablet with her. She was playing a game, it looked like the kind I’d played when I was younger where we were able to create characters, give them personalities and lives, and then watch them navigate their fake lives. But this was different, there was something off about it I couldn’t quite pinpoint. One of the girl’s characters was on the screen. She had red hair and big green eyes. That was when I realized what was wrong, the character seemed to be talking to the girl. But that was way beyond the ability of the program, at least the one she owned. The only other option, however, was artificial intelligence, which was legal and way beyond the abilities of a teenager. Before I was able to study the scene closer it changed again. The rapid switches were making my head swim so I closed my eyes until I felt I’d regained my bearings.

When I opened them we were back where we’d begun, at the young man’s work bench. It was just as cluttered as before but the odd device was nowhere in sight, for that matter so was he. The odd darkness that surrounded the desk was still there and I was surprised when someone stepped from it and into our line of sight. The person was dressed head to toe in dark, they even had a mask to cover their face and gloves. They seemed to know what they were doing and made a beeline for one of the drawers in the desk. They yanked at the handle of the bottom right drawer but it wouldn’t budge. They knelt down, took out a pen like device and stuck it in the key hole. They pushed a button on the bottom of the pen, it flashed red then green, and the drawer slid open. The person delicately reached in and pulled out something wrapped in cloth. They unwrapped the cloth and I got a quick glimpse of the device before they covered it again and slipped back into the darkness.

The projection died down and the High Seer stepped forward. “That was the last event we’ve managed to identify. It happened three days ago and has managed to stay under wraps so far. As I said before, the initial event, the creation of that device, happened just over a century ago. And from what we’ve gathered it has stayed in the family, being passed down from generation to generation for safe keeping, since. Now that you’ve seen where we’ve been Commander Joan is here to give you your instructions. I urge you all to remain calm, you have been trained and trained well. We can handle anything the Universe throws at us. Thank you.”

The Commander shook hands with him and took his place. “Thank you, High Seer, for bringing us all up-to-date on the situation as hand. As he said we should all remain calm, the Universe hasn’t fallen into chaos yet. We still have time to head it off. I’m going to break what you just saw down. Andel Petrick, the one who assisted in the design of our transmitter, was the first man you saw. And that device, that pointless seeming hunk of metal? That was the dimension jump. It has the capability and power to jump between universes, but at great cost. Matter can neither be created nor destroyed within our universe. That balance must be held in strict control. Jumping between universes upsets that balance. And there is no telling what the consequences could be, but rest assured they would be disastrous. Then there was the peace negotiations between the Thelan and the Trin. I don’t think I need to tell you how that has affected us.” There was a general mumble over the crowd. The war had been going on for nearly 50 years and was putting a strain on race relations throughout the galaxy. We were even beginning to feel it here on Kalindor even though we had a policy to stay out of inter-species conflict.  

“Of the girl not much is known. There may have been some trouble a few weeks ago with a smuggler named Zerich. A deal gone bad of some sort, but other than that nothing. We are still looking into her importance.

“Now, the last even is what we need to be focusing on. As you saw the Device has been stolen. We have no idea where it is. For most of you I don’t want you to worry about it. It is not your concern. When you leave here you will be sent you individual assignments. There are  many things that need to be done. Smaller pieces of the puzzle that had to be put together before we understand the whole.  We’ve averted disaster before and we will persevere again. Go with the Sights Blessing.” She walked away, dismissing us.   

* * *

“Elizabeth’s Cycle. Can you believe it?” Ian said breathlessly. His green eyes wide and shinning with excitement.

“No, I can’t,” I said. My voice sounded flat even to my own ears.

“Ian,” Fey said, a waning tone o her voice. She squeezed my upper arm sympathetically.

“What? It’s exciting. How many people can honestly say they’ve been a part of something this big.”

We had been living to ether for four years in a nice sized apartment with enough bedrooms for each of us and a shared kitchen and common room. We were assigned together after we graduated from the University when it was determined we were likely to work well together. The screening process for this wasn’t always perfect but we were counted among the lucky ones who not only got along but genuinely enjoyed each others company. Ian and Fey already knew each other when we moved in. They were both part of the military Order and had been in the same classes for six years, but they had quickly welcomed me into their circle.

We were sitting around the table in our kitchen. Ian and I were drinking our coffee, Fey her tea. It was a small, brightly lit room with an eclectic collection of furniture. We’d all brought in our own things which meant nothing matched, but it was a comfortable kind of chaos. Ian had painted the walls a pale blue, Fey brought in her overstuffed orange chairs that now circled an old wood table we’d bought together, and my dented pats and chipped cups finished off the room with style.

Ian was sprawled out across his chair opposite me, his legs took up half the space under the table alone. He was mixing his creamer into his coffee and clinking his spoon obnoxious against the edge of the cup. Fey was sitting on my right. She was leaning over the able, her elbows resting against it, with her legs crossed and angled under her chair. She scooped her tea bag up with a spoon, wrapped the string around the handle in a series of deft movements, and rested it on her plate. I was curled up in my chair with my legs pulled up under me. My cup of coffee rested of the arm of my chair and I was stirring it absentmindedly.

“You’re crazy,” Fey said.

“No, I just have an adventurous spirit,” Ian countered.

“No, I’m pretty sure you’re crazy,” I said.

“Whatever. When do you thing we’re going-.” He started but was interrupted by the sound of pressurized air being released. He jumped our of his chair tipping it back to the point it nearly fell but Fey caught it at the last moment and settled it back upright. Ian bolted to he wall next to the entryway leading to the common room and pulled out the delivery canister that had arrived in the mail shoot.

“It’s our instructions,” he said, waving around the memory cube he’d removed from the canister.

He took the cube into the common room and set it into the projector. Fey picked up her tea and followed Ian. I untwisted myself from my chair and checked the delivery chute and found a letter waiting.

“Don’t you think we should read our instructions before watching it?” I asked, joining them.

“That’s not nearly as fun,” Ian whined. He already had everything set up and ready to go.

I rolled my eyes, ignored him, and opened the letter. A hologram of the Commander hovered over the paper.

“Morgana. Ian. Fey. Your mission of focus will be based on the planet and people of Vell. I have had the archives gather all the information we have on them. It is your job to monitor your section of the cycle. As of now we are unsure the importance of it but have full faith you will be able to unravel it and do what is necessary. Weekly updates will be required. Good luck and go with the Sights blessing.” The hologram cut out.  

“Vell? Isn’t that the werewolf planet?” Fey asked skeptically.

“Yes, oh my god. This is going to be great!” Ian said, bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement. His grin was so wide is seemed to split his face in half.

“Should be interesting,” I said. “They’ve been making huge leaps and improvements in their tech the last few decades. No space travel or communication yet though.”

“It’s going to be tricky.” Fey still sounded dubious.

“But fun.” Ian refusing to let anyone take away his eagerness. “Can we watch it now?” he asked me.

I nodded and he activated the projector. Personal projectors were much smaller than the one in the meeting hall. Our ceilings only rose about ten feet high and the picture didn’t even reach the top. The recording started and we all took our usual seats on the couch with Ian in the middle.

It was dark and difficult to see. It took a few minutes for my eyes to adjust before I realize it was raining which made visibility on the recording even worse. We were looking down at a city, there streets were lined with towering buildings so tall the tops were made invisible by the cloud cover and street lamps that had an odd glow to them. A car slipped into our view, the only sign of life. It was hovering about two feet above the asphalt surface and was minding it’s own business. Another car zoomed into the frame and rushed up behind the first. The first car took an abrupt turn but the second one stayed on its tail. They may as well have been attached with a magnet with the luck the first one was having at getting away. After a few moments of weaving around the cities street the second car rammed into the back bumper of the first and threw it into an uncontrollable spin across the street. It hit a lamppost, flipped onto its top, and skidded 20 feet until it was forced to a stop by one of the buildings.

The scenes switched and now we were staring at a tall, skeletal man. His face was scrunched up in disgust as he took a squirming, crying child from the arms of a nurse.

Next, the man stood brooding in a doorway while a teenage boy with hair the same blond as the child of earlier stormed down the gravel driveway to a taxi waiting on the street.

Then an odd thing happened.  Something I haven’t often seen. The picture being projected separated into two separate screens. The first had the kid laying on the ground surrounded by burning rubble from collapsed buildings with a trickle of blood dripping down his temple. His eyes were wide open with a vacant look in them that gave me a chill.

The second was set in a conference room. I could recognize of the buildings through the window from the first scene. They boy, man now, was sitting at the head of the table. Everyone in the room was facing in the direction of a pull down screen where a representative from Kalindor was being projected. I didn’t recognize who it was, but recognized their uniform.

That was the end of the recording.

There was a few minutes of awkward silence before Fey broke it.

“Well that was super helpful. Totally straightforward. Not vague at all.”

“That was complete bullshit. What are we supposed to do with that? Can we even do something with that? Why couldn’t they have given us something actually interesting?” Ian was growing gradually angrier the longer he spoke.

I put my arm around hit shoulders in an attempt to calm him. “It may not be clear yet, but that doesn’t mean we’re not going to do something important. Don’t jump to conclusions. It’s too early for that. We have too potential endings. We need to figure out which one is going to help us the most, though I’m going to assume it’s the second.”

“After we figure out who that kid was. And if we’re even in the right time period yet,” Ian grumbled.

“Who knows what Morgana will see. It’s too early for all this woe, Ian,” Fey said.

“Yes, thank you,” I said.

“Stop being so reasonable you two. A little valid indignation is healthy.”

“Uh-huh. We should go to the archives and start researching,” I said.

“In the morning. It’s too late right now,” Ian said and yawned.

“Now who’s being reasonable?” asked Fey. 

[carriegessner]

The Real Lizard Wives of Earth

Hey, @mediaeval-muse, I wrote you 2000 words of silliness.

“June! June!”

Jiusyndor continues down the street. She’s on a mission. She has to get to the pet store to pick up their largest bag of flies and one of crickets (if she buys too many at one time, the silly people in polo shirts get suspicious and start asking how many snakes she has and if perhaps she’d be interested in a larger cage for them?). After that, it’s off to the hardware store for some industrial-sized bug zappers before picking up Bilamaggron from soccer practice.

Which is why it takes her a moment to remember she’s June. On this world, at any rate. A good, safe Earth name. Boring, if you ask her. One she can barely trouble herself to remember.

“June!”

She plasters on a smile to the fleshy face that still feels so . . . mushy, and she turns around. A group of Earth women descend upon her.

“We thought that was you!”

“I’m the same way! Always off in my own little world!”

“Yes, so many things to be thinking of! The whole days needs to be planned, and we’re always thinking of the next step! Isn’t that right, ladies?”

Of all the things she hates about this planet, what she hates the most is the women. In no particular order, they are self-absorbed, jealous, petty, and . . . ‘Bitchy’ is the term for it. She’ll never get used to it. Even with the silly parent-teacher organization at the middle school, there are so many trivial disagreements. June thought she’d left that all behind. If she has to mediate between the mothers who want to sell candles as a fundraiser and the mothers who want to sell chocolate one more time, she’s likely to shed her human disguise and give them all a piece of her decidedly non-human mind.

Still, these women have children in Billy’s class. It pays to be polite. Or, hopefully, it will pay. One day.

“Hello,” she says sweetly. “I’m just on my way to the pet store.”

“Oh, yes, I heard you let Billy keep a snake,” says one of the women. Carl, maybe. Or wait . . . Carol. That’s right. Carol shudders. “Nasty creatures, aren’t they?”

June straightens. She hasn’t actually seen a snake—not in person. On this thing they call the YouTube, though, yes. “I happen to think they’re lovely, intriguing creatures.”

“Right, but don’t you have to feed them mice? Live mice?” asks another, Gail. She’s chubby and really quite scrumptious, but she always wears clothes that are too big and hide her form. Like she’s ashamed of it. Can you imagine?

“Oh, leave her alone, girls,” says Pam.

That’s another thing June will never understand—why women insist on referring to themselves in the juvenile form. It’s like they have no respect for themselves as mature beings. Then again, Earth does seem to prize youth and beauty above all.

Oh, not above money. So: money, youth, and beauty.

“Anyway,” Deb says. She seems to be the leader of the clique. “We’re on our way to happy hour at Galaxy’s. Thought you might want to join us.”

Cars pass in whooshes. The shouts of children spill from a park down the block. A bell jangles as the door to a shop is opened. The walk signal at the nearest intersection begins to beep. The women stare eagerly at her.

Oh. They’re waiting for her to speak. That was . . . an invitation? Earthlings are so informal. Honestly.

“Oh,” she says. “Oh, no. I don’t think so. I’m really quite busy tonight.”

“A rain check, then?” asks one. Sharon?

A rain . . . check. She understands those words separately, but not together. In the interests of getting away (and getting those delectable treats to Mowsondran so he can make dinner), she nods. “Of course. A rain check.”

“You should go,” Billy says from the middle seat of the minivan.

June flicks her gaze toward the rearview mirror. Her son is covered in mud from soccer practice. When winter comes, they’ll all be praising Rotharnogak for a little process called homeothermy. Why ever did they settle in the American northeast? This is where they crash-landed, sure, but this planet is advanced enough for long-distance travel.

“Mom!” Billy says, louder this time. “I said you should go.”

“What? Go where?”

“To the bah-runch thingy.”

June frowns. “It’s ‘brunch,’ and how do you know about that?” Telepathy didn’t usually appear until puberty. If it was manifesting early, they’d have to have a long talk about how humans don’t like when you know what they’re thinking without them saying it. They’re primitive that way.

He bounces the ball on his muddy knee. “The other kids’ moms were talking about it at practice. They said they always invite you but that you never go. I think you should go.”

“And why do you think I should go?”

“You need friends.”

June blows through the stop sign.

The first invitation she accepts is one to book club. It’s a bit more formal than the others—in an email—and so June feels more comfortable than with their usual, casual invitations. The book of the month is one about a circus that only opens at night and has magical tents. June enjoyed it, but her one critique is that all the characters were human.

So, with Billy’s encouragement in her mind (and a reminder to play nice), she totes the copy she bought last week into Carol’s house.  

“Welcome!” Carol says, leaning in to the kiss the air just in front of June’s cheeks (another custom she’ll never understand. Why not just kiss the actual cheek? Humans didn’t seem to be afraid of each other’s skin too much). “Come in! How do you like the house?”

It’s large, but June knows enough that that’s not a thing you say even if the owner of the house wants everyone to know their house is large. It’s a far cry from her own decorating tastes, though, so she says, “It’s very . . . white!”

Carol beams. She seems to take that as meaning it’s very clean. “Thank you! Let me get you some wine!” Carol probably liked the book because there were so many white tents in it.

As she’s led into the kitchen, also white, she wonders if these women ever speak with periods instead of exclamation marks. The wine (also white!) is tasty, though. She has two glasses before she even gets into the living room, where she settles at the edge of the sofa with the book on her lap.

And—and here’s something she didn’t expect because who would have ever expected it?—the women don’t seem to have actually read the book. Their copies—library copies, of course—sit untouched on the coffee table. Their wine glasses, however, don’t. Their wine glasses leave their hands only for refills.

After her third, June finds she doesn’t mind. The smile on her face won’t seem to go away, and she’s learning so much about Earth culture. So much! She knows that Beyoncé is queen, that Mulan is the best Disney movie, that there are fifty shades of the color gray (why Earthlings need so many is a question for another day. Not that there will be another day, of course).

These women, though. (All women, really!) For all the months she’s been on this planet, June has had the exact wrong impression of its women. They’re not self-absorbed; they focus on themselves every once in a while to preserve their sanity because they’re asked to do everything and get no thanks for it. They’re not jealous; they’ve been taught only so many women can succeed and so they have unlearning to do when they’re adults. They’re not petty; they’ve been given purview over such insignificant matters that they’re forced to make them significant.

And they’re certainly not bitchy. In fact, June is starting to think that’s a word males (human males) came up with to keep women who live outside the lines down.

“Will we see you next week?” Deb asks, and she looks so hopeful June can’t say no. She just can’t. It would be like pulling off a young one’s tail just to teach them a lesson before they realize it’ll just grow back in a few days. That’s cruel, and June’s not cruel.

June is also very interested in drinking more of this wine. So she waves and smiles and says, “See you next week!”

On the drive home, she tells herself it’s only research. On the dominant species of her new planet. Yes, research.

“Why didn’t I like you ladies for a long time?” June asks over the thumping music. “You’re so much fun!”

It’s ladies night at Galaxy’s (the starry swirls on the ceiling are not accurate at all, but they are quite entrancing), which means they get half-priced cocktails, and they are going all out. June thought she’d hate, thought she’d spend the night sulking and making excuses to get away as quickly as she could, but there’s music (Earth music is so upbeat!) and the dancing makes her laugh and the drinks make her laugh harder.

So now she’s here, sitting in one of those cushy circular booths that feels so nice against her butt and watching Gail, Sharon, Deb, and Carol do some ridiculous gyrations that are supposed to be sexy but are instead hilarious. ‘Grinding,’ she thinks they call it.

But Pam doesn’t like dancing, not in the crushing heat of bodies, most of them twenty Earth-years their juniors, and the sweet thing is the other ladies don’t make fun of her for it. They stop by between songs to make sure Pam is all right, and Pam is grateful for a little time apart. And now, tonight, June joins her because dancing like this is one Earth custom she prefers observing from a distance rather than partaking in.

Pam leans toward June. “What?”

“I said, ‘Why didn’t I like you ladies for a long time?’”

“Oh.” Pam smiles, thinks, then says, “Probably internalized misogyny.”

June doesn’t know what the heck that means, but she’s determined to go home and Giggle it.

She sips her neon-pink drink through an equally pink straw.

No. Wait. That’s not right.

She sips again.

Google it.

“No, Deb,” June says after swallowing a gulp of mimosa.

She’s been coming to Sunday brunches with the gals for five weeks now, and she cannot get enough. Why do human beings limit themselves to brunch on only one day of the week? That was illogical. Earth women really do make delicious drinks, though. Who would’ve thought? And the drinks alone are worth coming back every week for.

“Listen, honey,” June said, “he doesn’t respect you. You can’t keep taking him back because he gives you the eyes of a small dog.”

Pam lays a hand on June’s forearm. “Puppy, darling.”

“Right, the eyes of a puppy. He’s just going to whiz and crap on the carpet as soon as your back is turned.”

“And by that, she means cheat on you again and break your heart,” Sharon says.

“Thank you, Sharon.” June snags the passing waitress. “May I have another of these delightful orange drinks that are actually yellow? Thank you so much. You have such lovely nostrils, by the way.”

The women giggle.

“He’s been treating you like crap for years,” Gail says. “Respect yourself because he’s not gonna do it for you.”

“I think you should kick him to the curb,” Pam says. “Make him come crawling back on his knees and then kick him to the curb again.”

“Yeah, we’ll have your back,” Sharon says. “Anything you need.”

Deb puts a hand over her heart. “You ladies . . . I just don’t know how I can thank you for being so supportive. I think it’s time.”

“For?” Carol prompts, drawing out the word.

Deb breathes in deeply. She lets the breath out in a whoosh and says, “For a divorce.” Then she covers her mouth, eyes wide as she giggles.

The table explodes in laughter. The waitress brings them a fifth round of mimosas. Mi-MO-sa. Such a lovely word. It rolls off the human tongue.

“What is that saying again?” June asks. She scrunches her nose up in thought. “The one I like so much but can never seem to remember?”

Gail leans forward and lowers her voice. “Eff the gosh-darn patriarchy.”

“Oh, yes!” June says, not bothering to match her friend’s pitch. “Fuck the goddamn patriarchy!”

And she swallows her mimosa in a single gulp.