trashydemigodmess

[trashydemigodmess]

The flower shop was long but narrow. Buckets of pre-wrapped bouquets, varying succulents and cacti in cute planters, and full sized plants of all kinds lined shelves on one side; Varying lotions, creams, candles, and other small gifts lined the walls on the other. Sheathes of drying florals hung from the ceiling, creating the illusion as you walked along the checkerboard floors that you were in some sort of upside down garden. A varying playlist of soft indie music filled the room.

Behind the counter, Rae was fussing with a collection of alien-looking plants: Tubular little buckets, fuzzy appendages like sea anemones, spiky snapping mouths and bulbs, all in varying shades of deep red and yellowish green. Hearing the chime of someone coming through the door, she turned, wiping the soil from her hands on her apron. "Please ignore the mess over there. I know it's giving, like, Little Shop of Horrors, but I promise they're harmless." She chuckled as they approached the counter, "Anyways, how can I help you?"

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Despite never having done a podcast, Logan found herself extremely comfortable, almost at home behind a microphone and recording. She smiled and nodded enthusiastically, waiting for her cue to speak. "Hiiii, I'm Logan, former moon clone, current Twitch streamer and Youtuber." She held back a giggle, as if she'd had that line ready in her head for far too long (she had). "You can find me at 'loganvance' on everything, I play video games and talk about a lot of nerdy and fangirl stuff."

“Okay, so I’ll basically give a little intro, then you introduce yourself, feel free to list all your socials, whatever you need. Doesn’t have to be a clean cut, I’ll be editing it all later anyway, so if you forget anything, we can add it in later, alright?” Jade held up a thumbs up in question, and almost immediately changed it to the symbol for OK and leaned into their mic, voice changing from the one reserved for friends to the one that sounded like it was resonating deep within them, beckoning one to “come, join us, as we delve into the mystery…”

They were sitting with their knees curled up to their chest in the closet-pantry-storage room they’d converted to a soundproof recording studio, and beckoned with their hand to tell their guest that it was their turn to speak. “Joining us now is an eyewitness who’d like to add their own experience to the record books. Why don’t you introduce yourself, special friend?”

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"Ooooooh," Logan leaned forward to closer examine her choices. "Y'know what, I think I'm feeling brave, feeling adventurous. I can do spicy food. I'm gonna say Lovely Hot."

Michio stood in the pantry at the Heliade house, surrounded by nearly stacked shelves of snacks and ingredients. He peeked his head out, a playful smile on his face. "Okay, so which flavor of instant ramen did you want to try?" He offered, holding up two of the packages for his friend to see. "Original, Cheese, or I actually have one called 'Lovely Hot', if you're feeling adventurous." He prompted.

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"So important that you should've taken notes?" Macey sat up, interest immediately piqued. Wether it was having lived there for so long, or exposure from their jobs, or just being friendly and well connected, having the gossip on everyone they knew—and speculating about it together—was one of the tiny joys in their life. She took an incredulous sip of her coffee, moving in closer so she was pressed up against his side, "What the fuck kind of tea did you find that was so important? We gotta get to the bottom of this, babe. Who do you remember talking to?"

"Hmmm." Brent was slurping his coffee so he didn't respond with words. Where to start? Brent had a feeling he wanted to tell her something. But the latter part of the night was mostly a blur, and before that... that felt very long ago. "It was a time," he said, nodding. "I actually had a lot of fun. Caught up with a lot of people, too, and... Mmm, there's something I wanted to tell you." Brent furrowed his brow, trying to piece the memory together. "Damn, I drank too much." It was so stupidly obvious it made him laugh into his mug. He drank some more coffee, then sighed. "I should have taken notes or something."

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☆: *.☽

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"Did we win-win?" Macey teased. Trying to describe a dance competition to a normal person was hard. Technically everyone wins in a way; Everyone gets critiques and a score and a medal, sometimes more than one if you're in multiple dances and solos. But, you want to score the highest and win the most. Be the best. And every competition used different terms, what platinum or high gold or premium or diamond means could be different everywhere. So, it'd been boiled down to just winning or win-winning, after Brent had driven or helped carry props for her enough times. "Yes, there were a lot more win-wins than I expected. Which, slay, honestly. All these new girls on the team keep surprising me." She once again took in her severely hungover husband, and tried not to find the unusually reversed situation too funny. "Seems like you were the one who had way more fun this weekend, though. How was the party?"

Once she was back, Brent maneuvered himself so he was facing Macey in the bed. One hand held up his head, the other gripped his coffee mug carefully, careful not to spill anything on the sheets. It was enough to ease himself into sitting, for now. "I missed you, too." He nudged her leg with his own. "I can't remember the last time I went to one of those without you." He leaned over and kissed her cheek, very aware of his high possibility of morning breath. "Did you win-win?" he asked.

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characters + social posts

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As quickly as she could, Macey returned, precariously balancing coffee and muffins under her chin and between her hands. "I'm back, your knight in shining..." She hovered over him at the side of the bed, "Eh, whatever, I can't think of a good joke." Leaving a muffin and some coffee next to him on the nightstand, Macey crawled over Brent to get back to her side, stopping to kiss him along the way. "Fuck," She groaned, finally rolling into her spot and sinking into the mattress, "I missed my bed. And you. You and my bed."

"You're the best," he groaned. Normally he'd want to pull himself to his feet and at least join her in the kitchen or the living room. It was a testament to his headache that he stayed where he was, yawning as he reached for Macey's hand. She probably had a point about his age, as much as he didn't want to admit it. Wasn't being a demigod supposed to make him sturdier? "Saving my life yet again." Brent kissed her knuckles. "Don't take too long, please."

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"I'm Macey," She smiled easily. But, the realization that yes, Macey was indeed a local by all definitions of the word, made her feel extremely old. It was a chuckle and a slight cringe at the same time. "Yeah, like, the most local you could possibly get." She liked Damian's vibe, though, and didn't get too much into Camp Teacher mode when she asked, "You mean like brand-new first day new, or like, been here for a few weeks new?"

Damian immediately warmed to the stranger, appreciating her willingness to go along with her request. "Nah," Damian shook her head. "I'm over it already. Their betrayal didn't cut too deep." It was far from her first experience with the Gray Sisters' taxi and it was far from her last. Glancing back at the spot on the ground, Damian laughed. "I did the same thing, " she admitted. "The second time, I almost tripped and fell out of the cab in my hurry to get out. I'd like to say I've gotten cooler since then, but, depends I guess." She reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear, revealing a violently purple underlayer of color as she smiled at her new acquaintance. "Name's Damian. New in town, if that wasn't obvious. You a local?"

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"Well, being sixteen might also have something to do with that." Macey joked, scrunching her nose in a smile before kissing his shoulder. "I'm making coffee and I stopped at the bakery for muffins, if you want some." After a weekend of commotion and sequins and loud children it felt really nice to be back in her own bed and curled up next to her favorite person. But she forced herself to sit up, "You don't even have to get up."

He noticed her perfume first: suddenly his dream smelled like musk and plums, and then he was back in the bed with the room much brighter than it was before. Macey, beside him and smiling. It was definitely the perfect sight to wake up to. But his hangover was threatening to end his life, so all he managed as a first response was an inelegant, "Mmghh." He half-laughed, half groaned, and rubbed his brow. Damn, he drank way too much. "I felt better the morning after I fought a Hydra," he grumbled.

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The apartment was quiet when Macey finally came back in the morning. And with the way Ziggy was bolting around for attention, she doubted it was because Brent was already up and going. "Shh, yes, yes, I know, we'll go out soon, I promise." She shushed the dog after giving him a million hugs and kisses. Sure enough Brent was still passed out in bed, looking somewhat like a sickly, Victorian child. Holding in a giggle, Macey turned around and went to turn the coffee on. Because of course Brent used a regular coffee pot like an old man, and of course that meant Macey had learned how to use it too. Out of the sheer love in her heart, she might add. Tiptoeing around the dog, she climbed back onto the bed and curled up next to him. A moment later he started to stir, and Macey waited until she saw one, tired, little eye crack open to look at her before grinning like a fool, "Seems like the party was fun."

Ziggy’s head lifted as soon as Brent stumbled into the bedroom. He was curled in Macey’s empty spot and looked expectantly for her. But Brent was alone, and when he flopped on his bed the dog dropped his nose onto his paws again and sighed. “Hello to you, too,” Brent mumbled. He pulled Ziggy to him, the alcohol making his limbs a little clumsy. He was still drunk enough that just laying there was an experience, the room tilting and swaying ever so gently while he dozed on top of the covers. “Tomorrow morning,” he mumbled into Ziggy’s head. Brent drifted off for a few minutes, the memories of the night floating through his mind. Then Ziggy wriggled out of his arms and Brent forced himself to stand and strip. Everything else, though, he left for a Brent who was more sober. He crawled under the covers and passed out while Ziggy sprawled over the empty half of the bed.

When he returned to the land of the living, his body felt extra heavy, the mattress beneath him a soft, warm, black hole. His head was full of cotton, too. And when he lifted it, his neck was stiff and protested carrying the weight of his skull. Brent sighed and sank back down. It occurred to him a few minutes later to check the time, maybe Ziggy needed to go for a walk. But before he could think about it more, he was asleep again.

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Macey watched the exchange as the taxi materialized nearby. She didn't want to smile too much and have the person take it the wrong way, but, she appreciated the fervor. "If you need me to have not seen it, I didn't see anything." She held her hands up and looked around as if nothing were amiss. Regardless, though, she did point at the spot where the taxi had just disappeared, "The first time I used them I threw up the moment I hit the sidewalk. Never again."

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"—Next time you're going to go supersonic to drive through a building, please let a girl know. If I were a cat, I would've lost eight of my nine lives, Tempest!" Flame-red hair hung in her face as Damian leaned towards the window of a car made of swirling gray smoke. She made a rude gesture with her hand in response to one made by the inhabitants of the cab. "See if I give you a tip next time, you old hags," she grumbled half-heartedly, with the air of someone who'd had the same conversation many a time. In response, smoke eddied around her ankles, the car melting into the ground without a trace. Damian lifted her face to the sky and let out a string of colorful curses before scrubbing a hand down her face. As she turned to walk down the street the Gray Sisters' taxi had dropped her off on, she froze, then laughed. "Tell me you didn't see all that?"

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treaclychild: Too many pics to post so after this I’m taking it to stories…thank you everyone who watched and talked about @bottomsmovie 🥲 if u r a girl with a tik tok you were the press tour!!

Kaia Gerber via treaclychild on Instagram, 11/10/2023.

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Oh, Rae had heard about it. She sucked in air through her teeth, the noise coming out as a hissing sound. "Oof, that sucks." She wasn't sure if Mikey had expected a more negative reaction. She wasn't mad at all, really if anything she felt sympathetic. "I mean, at the end of the day—" She gestured to everything around them, "We live in a magical town, no one was hurt, and nature grows back." Taking a sip of her drink, she watched his reaction, hoping that maybe brought some relief. "Really it just kinda sucks and the Dryads are fuckin' pissed. Do they know it was you? They're still mad at Brent for shit he did when he was sixteen and he's pushing thirty."

Mikey and Rae sat outside Cuppa Caupona. The gentle hum of conversation and the clinking of cups provided a familiar atmosphere for him. Each had just been given their drink of choice when Mikey shifted nervously in his seat, "Uh, yeah, so Rae," he began, his voice earnest yet tinged with apprehension, "You've probably heard about the fire that had started in the, um, forest, by now, right? The one everyone's been talking about?" he hesitated, the gravity of his confession hanging in the air between them. "Well, I sort of... I kind of lit it." He confessed, his tone laced with regret at his accidental actions. "You might have already guessed it was me. I don't know if you hear there was a fire and immediately thought about me because I assume most people do, but, uh, I just had to get that off my chest," He confessed. "...I guess I've learned that it's better to be honest with your friends about the things you're doing." He explained and fiddled with his to-go cup full of coffee. ( @trashydemigodmess )

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"Othello? That's rad, dude. I didn't even read that 'til college." Bowie's soft reverence was met with Dex's bright enthusiasm. He grinned as he put his phone away, then glanced back at his pocket. "Oh—yeah. Just for like, song ideas or things I could use in the future." He tapped the side of his head, "Gotta always keep the writer brain on."

Bowie chuckled, their eyes filled with amusement at Dex's response. "Ah, the complexities of love and sacrifice," they mused, their fingers tracing absentminded patterns on the table. "Indeed, both are so integral to the human experience, each carrying its own brand of tragic romance. I've always had a thing for stories like that though, no wonder my favorite play as a child was Othello?" Bowie chuckled as he considered Dex's question thoughtfully, their heterochromatic eyes alight with thought. "Me? If I had to choose," they began, "I'd probably go with the fig. Full of the sweet nectar of life as the wasp buzzes from one adventure to the next, and perhaps I'd be the love that was found in the most unexpected places." Their voice was soft with reverence. "...Do you often write down thoughts you'd like to save for later?" Bowie questioned, and gestured to Dex's phone in his hands.

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"The wasp," Dex sighed just as wistfully. He'd been nodding along through the entire explanation, fully engrossed and completely understanding. "Sacrificing yourself for love is way more my vibe than killing for it. But both are like, so tragically romantic." He pulled out his phone to quickly jot down 'wasps and figs' into his notes app as he spoke, "Damn, I'm obsessed with that." Dex put his phone back as he continued, "What would you pick?"

"So, essentially," Bowie relaxed leisurely, with his hand dramatically placed across his forehead as he spoke, "the figs and the wasps rely on each other to live, in the end. Even though the wasp dies inside the fig, the figs cannot live on without the wasp, and the wasps cannot live on without the fig to lay their eggs in." Bowie wistfully sighed, removing his hand, turning to look at the other that was with him as he was caught up in the metaphor. "Don't you see how this is love in its purest form?" He expressed, a mix of sincerity and enthusiasm. "Would you be the wasp or the fig?" he questioned, eager for a response.

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Buzzfeed.com, December 2023