#it was a really silly one over the black fabric swatches being different shades of black

[izzy-b-hands]

"I'm gonna stab him," Jim mutters. "What are these for anyway?"

"Frenchie and Ed requested additional notions," Izzy sighs, a woven basket on one arm, already half full of fabric. "For the new crew uniforms and I'm not entirely sure what else. Not my place to ask."

"Why would any of that need to be a secret?"

"It isn't," Izzy replies.

"Then why is he treating it like one?"

"I know you don't want to be here," Izzy says. "If it helps, I don't want to be either. I hate these crowds. Fang's better with them, but do you think he'd let me send him instead?"

Jim smiles. "Wow."

"What?"

"Never thought I'd hear you complain about Ed like that."

They move to the next booth, covered in fabric and a few other crafts.

Including jewelry.

"Wish I knew where the fuck my money was," Jim says, staring down at the earrings. "I take it we're no longer salaried, since my funds disappeared from where I had them hidden."

"Previous to meeting Bonnet," Izzy says, absentmindedly tossing swatches and folded lengths of fabric into their basket. "Everything was kept in one place. You'd get your share of the last raid, and everything unallocated goes into a general fund."

"That's how we're paying for all this," Jim nods. "Cool. I guess."

"It was pointed out that one could see your and Frenchie's money was essentially like your cut of a raid and should be left to you both," Izzy continues. "But that opinion was voted out."

"Fuck," Jim scowls and starts to walk to the next booth. "I'll have to tell Fang thanks for sticking up for us."

"I suppose you will," Izzy calls out with what seems like hesitation. "Go on ahead. I'll meet you further down."

They walk on past yet another sewing and fabric booth, pretending not to think about the teal earring on the previous booth's counter.

They didn't need anything like that anyway. Surviving was the goal, not shopping and trying to match with Olu.

"He's not even here to see it," Jim scolds themself and passes the last merchant stall towards the beach. "You can wait till you find him."

They wander away from the main pathway onto the sand, finally dropping down onto it with a hiss. It's hot, but it almost feels nice on one's legs stretched out over it.

"Literally it's just fabric," Jim mutters after what feels like an hour passes. "How does it take this long?"

They flop back onto the sand and sigh. "I wonder what Ed would do if I ditched him."

"Me?" Izzy's boots push through the sand. "I don't know that he'd care all that much. But if you try to abandon him, right now?"

Izzy sits beside them, a few burlap sacks full of their shopping dropped at his other side. "I wouldn't. Were it me."

Jim waits for the command to get the fuck up amd get moving, but it doesn't come.

"Took a long time to track down the same color of fabric," they comment."It's all mostly black."

"It is, but there's differences in each shade. In the type of fabric. They asked for variety, so I did my best."

It occurs to Jim that this might be a moment Izzy would rather Ed not know about. This softer, tired voice and willingness to rest on the beach, watching the waves crash.

"Here," Izzy searches through one of the bags. "Don't tell Ed."

He motions for them to hold out their hand, and presses something into it.

A necklace, and an earring. Each with a small teal circular charm hanging off of them.

"He definitely didn't say we could buy something like this," Jim says, holding the jewelry as if it might burn them. "Izzy-"

"As if he doesn't use every stop as an excuse to buy new rings," Izzy interrupts. "Honestly, if you wear them and say nothing, he won't notice. He's got other things on his mind."

"Yeah, I've noticed."

The silence lingers for only a moment.

"I don't wanna make this any weirder," Jim continues. "But can you help get the necklace on? I don't want the charm sliding off-"

Izzy takes the necklace gently and moves to kneel behind them.

There's a moment of fear, hidden in the tension of their hand sitting on the handle of their knife.

But Izzy slips the necklace on and secures it without any attempt to garrote them.

"I don't know if you actually have a piercing," Izzy says awkwardly. "So the earring-"

"It's just been a bit since I wore one," Jim interrupts as they force the earring through the slightly grown over piercing in their left ear. "Hurts, but it still fits."

"We should head back," Izzy says, and stands from the sand with a groan. "There might be lunch leftover for us if we're lucky."

"Stew again?"

Izzy nods.

"Great," Jim mutters, and pulls themself up. "Or we could get something actually edible here."

They watch Izzy process it, the wheels nearly audibly turning.

"So long as we finish it before we get back," Izzy says. "That, or we get enough to share."

"May as well."

They make their way back towards the main path, sand shifting beneath their feet.

"And thanks," Jim continues, focusing on the horizon. "For the..."

"Would be hypocritical of me," Izzy shrugs, and gestures to the ring on the knot of his cravat. "To say you shouldn't want something that reminds you of someone else."

Jim lets Izzy get slightly ahead, and studies him.

As soon as they're back, this version of Izzy will almost definitely disappear. But now there's the question itching at the back of their head: is it because he wants it to, because he feels he has to, or because he doesn't know how else to be.

The situation at hand, frankly, sucks. But the experiment of finding out when and where Izzy lets himself relax is weirdly interesting.

That, and what might it take to convince that relaxed, sentimental, secret jewelry purchasing Izzy to help them get Olu back.

[ladymelissaduthe]

challenge 5 (part 1)

aka maybe the night (jackson #5: the sound check)

Jackson sings this song in the fic,,, PLEASE LISTEN TO IT YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT NADKJNDK: https://open.spotify.com/track/1yDiru08Q6omDOGkZMPnei?si=SR_Ce75XTqqO7Po7nu0_Vw

a/n: Not actually Challenge 5, but it’s the day of the ball so YEET for all intents and purposes it’ll be titled as part of challenge 5 anyway. There are going to be 3 fics cause it’s easier to digest AND BOY DO I LOVE THE ENDING OF THIS. Laidease and gents, this girl is confused. Take a shot every time Missy simps over Jackson. @jackson-graham thank you so much Bri for the gift that is both Jackson Graham and Jordan Fisher. I recommend that you listen to Maybe the Night by Ben and Ben because.... this is a song fic. AHAHHJKSDNKJDNK I PROMISE YOU’LL LIKE THE SONG. IT’S ONE OF MY WEDDING SONGS AHAHAHAHJKWNK aight bye, this is just an appetizer before the ball NJKNKKD Gdoc linked in the title as usual (2509 words)

My eyes go back and forth between the two dresses hanging in my closet.

I love my maids, I really do—but gosh darn it, did they have to be so darn talented that I couldn’t even pick a dress for the ball tonight?

Green. The color of fresh grass. Flowers and Ribbons hanging around. Long flowy sleeves. A work of art, something straight out of a fairytale.

Or…

Blue. Almost Lilac. Off the shoulder. Beaded. Short Sleeves. A true ball gown, fit for a princess.

I narrowed my choices to two very different gowns for the event—yet I couldn’t pick which one I was going to wear. Don’t even get me started with the hair and make up needed for each dress. I sigh looking over to the clock.

5 o’clock.

One of my maids, Kylar, stands by my vanity, setting things up as she patiently waits for me to make a decision, swatching shades of eyeshadow on the back of her hand. Skylar and Campbell were off getting more things for tonight too. It takes a village to get a girl ready.

I needed to take a walk. Dress picking could wait another hour, I suppose.

Maybe I can sneak a peek of the Great Hall while it’s being set up. Hmmm… not a Bad idea.

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

Grammy did tell me that I should sneak a peek of the way the place was decorated, I tell myself as I slip through a door that leads into the Great Hall.

By tomorrow, people were going to start using pictures of this event for whatever party, wedding, or debut they had in mind.

Iridescent, was the theme of the ball.

I’m not disappointed, not one bit—my eyes first drawn to the crystals that hung from the ceiling. The daylight seeped into the room just right that little rainbows were already shining around the room. I wondered how they were going to look like in the night. There were fabrics being draped by the sides of the room, more silvery in color at first glance.

I try to stay at the sides of the room as staff were setting up the rest of the room and tables. 

A bunch of what I assumed to be musicians were chatting and setting up by the stage with people in full black attire were taping down wires. Must be the soundcheck. 

Musicians and bands needed to practice a little earlier than the event itself to make sure everything was working right.

Is it weird that I missed this? The little chaos hours before every event. The sound of tables and chairs being set accompanied by the rustling of people mobilizing other decorations. All that was missing for me was my clipboard and it could have felt like home.

I tilt my head up in awe of how everything looked already. Whoever was the events planner for this deserved a raise. I hear a quick strum from a guitar playing from the speakers.

Oh wow, even their sound system here was great, but my eyes stay looking up as I try to take each of the little detail of the Great Hall. I wonder if I could ask the planner for their supplier, maybe even get the card of their tech provider because—

“Check, one two.”

Something inside of me jumps. That voice was familiar. 

My eyes look directly for the source. 

The stage.

Jackson. It was Jackson standing onstage, a guitar strapped over his shoulder.

Suddenly the room was filled with music. Initially, the music too loud before whoever probably was on the sound board started to adjust things.

The band behind was playing a sort of folk-pop tune and Jackson was leading them as he sang.

He was singing.

I want to lay down by the fire with you Where souls are glowing, ever warmer too Your love surrounds me like a lullaby Singing softly, you are mine oh mine

His voice was smooth and steady, the kind of voice that gave you goosebumps when you heard it. 

What a surprise! That was my friend singing, and I find myself smiling as I take a couple of steps towards the stage.

Moon has never glowed this color Hearts have never been this close I've never been more certain I will love you 'til we're old

Being a little closer to the stage, I realize he’s wearing something different than I usually see him in. 

A navy button down with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, dark pants. Handsome as ever, maybe a little more with the singing and the guitar. 

I could listen to him singing like this every day.

Stop it. I try to push that thought away, that sounds weird. Still, I can’t keep my eyes off of him, watching as he reaches the chorus of the song.

Maybe the night holds a little hope for us dear.

This was a very sweet song he was singing. The kind you’d hear at a wedding reception. He smiles and closes his eyes occasionally as he sings through the chorus.

Maybe we might want to settle down, just be near. Stay together here.

A part of me hopes that he looks out so I can wave and let him know that I’m here. 

Let him know that I was here cheering him on, but he doesn’t, instead seemingly more focused on performing. Silly me, that sounds too sappy. 

I look around for half a second wondering if other people were catching what I was hearing, some stopping to listen. 

Glad to see people enjoying this too. 

My attention goes back to the stage, seeing Jackson glance down on his guitar, smiling as he does.

Jackson had a very special smile, the kind that reminded me of the Sun. Not because of how bright it is, but because of how it made me feel warm, like how it felt stepping into a patch of sunlight.

We follow the pull of fate, into this moment.

As he sings, I realize that I’ve never seen him this happy. I suppose he really just loved to play music. 

With a voice like his, I wouldn’t blame him. He sounded flawless as the song swell and dipped with another round or two of the chorus of maybe the night holds a little hope for us dear. 

It was very catchy, actually—I expect myself to have it stuck in my head later. I’d have to find it on Dotify too if it wasn’t an original song by him. 

The song soon ends with a nice little strumming pattern that Jackson does that prolongs the last note from his guitar, and I wonder if he’s done this before. He laughs a bit before he steps back to talk with the other instrumentalists.

Earlier I wasn’t sure if it was the drumbeat I could hear in my ears or my heartbeat, but with the song over I didn’t realize my heart was beating so fast. I still feel myself smiling nonetheless as I immediately start clapping from my part of the room.

I probably looked silly being the only one clapping, but that performance was definitely worthy of it.

I feel a little bubble in my chest that makes me cup my hands and yell, “Encore!”

That catches Jackson’s attention, looking away from the other instrumentalist as he looks over to me and from here- even I could catch his surprise and the flickering smile on his face before he puts his guitar on the stand and hops off the stage, headed to my direction.

I immediately smile as I move halfway, still clapping excitedly.

“I thought you’d be in full ball preparation right now.” he says.

“You underestimate my ability to change into full Princess-mode, Mister Graham.” I laugh lightly. I’d be preparing right now if I could figure which dress to wear. That’s  a problem for future Missy.

I make a gesture to him, wanting to direct the conversation back to what I just witnessed. I could still hear my heartbeat in my ears.

“You sound great! I mean, you all sound great! But you,” I pause, trying to find the right words, “you sound amazing.”

“Thank you, that’s… thanks.” He chuckles softly. “A sound check for this evening.”

“I didn’t know you were performing tonight.” I comment, but still very surprised about this fact. “Do you always perform during big palace events?”

“I—well, I haven’t in a couple of years.” He says before pausing very briefly, before his face lights up again.

I almost impulsively ask him why, but he clears his throat and I decide not to.

“Though I kind of wish you’d heard me for the first time later tonight.”

I can’t even imagine how good he was gonna perform tonight. He was a natural. Imagine him playing in front of a crowd of finely dressed people, him looking handsome in a suit.

“I’m glad that you’ve decided to play this time around. If that’s how you sound during a sound check, I can’t wait to hear you play later. You’ll be playing more songs, right?”

I ask that because a tiny part of me would want to hear him sing a little more than one song.

Jackson shakes his head. “Just the one. They have quite the lineup this evening.”

He sticks a hand in his pocket and gestures with his free hand to the stage where the instruments are set up, my eyes following.

“Even Wylan is playing something.” He says, and I’m surprised again. Is everyone here a secret musician? “You’ll have a wonderful evening.”

Hearing that makes me smile, the way he’s looking at me warmly makes me smile a tiny bit wider.

“A night full of festivities, great music,” I eye him at that part, “and dancing? Oh it’s so nice to finally attend a big party that I don’t have to plan.” I giggle.

He laughs a bit, “I have no doubt your events are just as great as this one will be.”

I hum, he’s not wrong.

“The only difference being that this one has a bigger budget.” I chuckle at that thought, most likely sure that the royal family was sparing no expense for tonight’s event. It was independence day after all. The ball was going to be full of important guests—and if it was anything close to the debutante balls I’ve planned before it was gonna be full of merrymaking, drinks, and dancing.

Dancing. I suddenly feel myself quiet down. I should ask him for a dance. Not very Belt Belle of me to ask first though. Grammy would chastise me for doing this.

Um… sorry Grammy.

“Say... would you save me a dance later, after you perform your set?” I try to sound friendly, like a friend just asking a friend for a dance. Not in the romantic sense of course. But slow dancing with Jackson doesn’t sound bad either.

Maybe if I’m lucky they wouldn’t play a slow song and I could maybe just do Renegade or some other Toktik dance. But yes, a dance with Jackson sounded nice.

Jackson seems to swallow, “Really?”

“Of course!” I nod, “That is if you like dancing… of course…” I wince, my choice of words sounding way too weird with that repetition. I normally don’t do that.

“No, I do. I’ll even save you two dances.” A pleased smile appears on his face, and I catch the smidge of surprise underneath it. Why does he seem so surprised that I’m asking this?

The thought of two dances sounds lovely. I grin and raise my hand to stick my pinky finger up in the air.

“Two dances, that’s a promise, Mister Jackson Graham.” I meet his eyes, actually feeling more excited for the ball more than ever.

“Dances with the loveliest lady in the room, I’m sure.”

With the loveliest lady in the room…

“Ah—” My brows raise as I let out a sound I didn’t even plan on making.

Was he being serious? My face starts to feel warm, well not just my face anymore—my whole body felt warm.

My eyes go to my pinky finger. Should I still hold it up right now? Did he just call me pretty? Why did he just say that. Oh my gosh, Melissa. Oh my gosh, Jackson.

I don’t know what my face looks like right now, but it’s enough to make Jackson chuckle a little nervously.

“Yes, um... there’ll be plenty of chances. I’ll come find you then.” He says before I watch him reach up to loop is pinky finger with mine, squeezing just a bit.

I find myself nodding, trying to reel myself back and bring my good sense back to me. I curl my lips in and try to control my expression as our hands go down.

“I’ll make sure that it would be hard for you to miss me.” I pause. It still felt warm around here. I could hear my heartbeat again. Guess this was my cue to go.

I tilt my head to one of the doors, “I should be getting ready then.”

I just needed a little air.

Maybe they just haven’t turned the air conditioning here yet. Yes, that must be why. We love an eco-conscious palace that saves energy that way.

“Good luck. Not that you need it.” He smiles softly.

Maybe the drummer was actually just practicing somewhere at the back. We love musicians who practice a lot. That must be what I’m hearing right now.

I try to laugh at that remark, shaking my head. “See you later, Jackson.”

I turn on my heel and start walking towards the door. I should be getting ready, yes. If I could only decide which dress to choose.

An idea pops into my head, and call out Jackson’s name, not completely turning to his direction.

“Jackson! Green or blue?!”

If I couldn’t decide what to wear, might as well let fate choose. Or well, Jackson in my case. This was just like tossing a coin to figure this out. Completely harmless.

He says, “Blue.”

I tilt my head at his answer. It’s set then.

Blue, almost lilac, it is.

I lift a shoulder up before turning to Jackson and give him a final wave in his direction, smiling in his direction. “Thank you!”

“You’re very welcome, Missy.” I hear him say and I wait until I’m out of the Great Hall before I let out a breath and place a hand over my chest.

The Great Hall’s air conditioning was on.

The drummer was taking a break, no one was onstage.

Still, I felt light— more excited actually.

Maybe I was just too excited for tonight, seeing the Great Hall decorated must have just made me more excited than I was before.  

That’s what I tell myself as I start walking back to my room. That’s what I’d like to believe.

As I walk back, I can’t help but sing to myself.

Maybe the night holds a little hope for us, dear.

Jackson’s song was indeed stuck in my head, and maybe not just his song.