it's impossible to be unhappy in a poncho

✨👽🤖bird vrj | 22 | the glowstick | such a soft and messy thing 🤖👽✨

[bird-was-here]

Bird had stayed laying still, curled up in her bed for longer than was normal. She had spent a lot of time just staring off into space after the party. So accustomed to going home whenever she wanted, her detainment felt... suffocating. It had been so long since she couldn’t breathe.

Now all those feelings of helplessness, of being trapped, were flooding back to slap her in the face. Those feelings of being grounded, of needing to run, to fly away and never come back. It should not come as a surprise that she was flighty. Her name was Bird after all. And it there was one thing she knew about herself, it was that she did not do well with bubbles. No matter how much she loved her school. It wasn’t safe anymore.

@covingtonhqs, @ofantonia, @paintingpeyton, @brickyellow, @heartofgolds, @cagcdbirds, @flightsrsk​

She watched one Dad pull his glasses off of his face to pinch his brow contained neatly on the screen of her phone. The other paced in the background. Back and forth. Back and forth. The dogs followed by his heels like he was their commanding officer. Anxiously waiting for some sort of command.

What do we do now, sir?

Army Dad was accustomed to his face in the dirt, forearms pulling him through sludge. He’d seen war. He was ready to kick in the door of the police station himself.

“They can’t keep you there.”

“When will you be home?” Her more reasonable father folded his hands neatly on his desk. He had always been less... explosive than his husband. “Chirstmas is just around the --”

 “I won’t have it. Where are the keys?”

She let her eyes slip close. Listening to the shuffling and clattering that was no doubt her Pop tearing the house apart.

“Did you hide the keys?” She asked, satisfied with the short ‘I hid the keys’ she received in response. “...I gotta go in to talk to the law later today, Dad. I just want to go home. I just want to go home.”

“Bird. Look at me.” She felt like she was 12 again. She would close her eyes and pull her knees up to her face in her hoodie and baggy sweats and try to disappear. “You’re going to be fine. You can call us right after. We’ll be here, waiting for you, ok?”

She felt the pillow under her face dampen with silent tears. Her response came after a long moment of silence. “...I just want a jelly donut.”

“We’ll go get jelly donuts when you come home. First thing. I promise.”

can you tell me, to the best of your memory, what happened on the night of december 13, 2019?

Bird had seen the inside of a police station before. She did a lot of graffiti and hanging around older kids she shouldn’t have. This was back when she was angry. Always so angry.

“Well, I...” She ran the fingers of one hand through her hair, “I...” A sigh, “Honestly, mister Watson I was petty sloshed all night. It’s super embarrassing. I always do this to myself. I was having fun at the beginning. I’m, how you say, a floater, you know? It’s like I can hang out with any group of people really. I know a lot of people on campus. So’s I was, you know, bouncing around from group to group at the beginning of the affair. I even was doing good with the jello shots, you know? Pacing myself. Until, well...” She folded her hands on the table, “There’s this girl. You probably need to know her name right? Ant...onia Clarke. She’s... a dream: beautiful and super-duper smart and just...” wow, “-- We’re friends now. We were dating. But uh, sorry, you don’t need to know about my dating history.” A cough, “She’s dating Melanie now. And I, you know, maybe I thought at the party we could spend some time together and we did get one dance and, like, I was feeling over the moon about it you know because when Ant dances she dances but, yeah, after that, I saw her with Mel and I guess that... shot me out of the sky a little bit. Guess I hit the ground pretty hard because that’s about when I started really drinking. That was probably, like, 9:30?” She took a breath. She just realized she’d been rambling, watching on of detective in front of her scramble to write this or that down, “I can go slower if you want, sorry, I start talking and then I can’t stop, you know? I’m a lil’ bit of a space cadet.”

“Anything else happen that night, Ms. Jha.”

She turned her attention to the chief, “Van Rees-Jha. Ok, that’s a mouthful. I get it. What? Oh, wait, yeah, I was getting to it... Uh, so I was a little drunk and sad so I found my friend Peyton and she talked to my spirit guides ‘cause I really... I needed some guidance you know? And that was really it. I’m sure I was talking to a lot of people. Austin, Wolfie... Uh... Elle! -- Elle was super upset about something, but. I don’t think that was too unusual. Is that, wait, that sounds bad. I didn’t mean it like that.”

did you see anything unusual that night? was anyone acting out of the ordinary?

“...I went outside at one point. My bandmate was coming to pick me up because I was upset and drunk and I didn’t want to embarrass myself anymore... It was late, I can’t remember what time, I’m sorry. I could probably check with him. But I did see uh, what’s his name... Maverick Braxton, the third year, like rushing someone away and into a car. I couldn’t see who it was though and I was too,” she whistled, “-- To you know, think a lot about it at that moment. It didn’t sound... good. Like hurried and... I don’t know.”

can you tell me more about your relationship with melanie?

Bird sighed, “She was always so nice to me. Always. I didn’t really know her other than around, you know? And since she’s gotten with Ant I kind of see her around more often. Or have seen. But I don’t... Honestly, it’s hard to be around her sometimes, you know? Just because, she... She’s dating my ex! What do you want me to say? I’m not trying to be a third wheel.”

do you have any reason to believe that someone would want to hurt melanie?

She shook her head, “No. Not at all. So all of this is really shocking and confusing because I don’t understand why this would happen. How it could happen. It’s not like she.. I mean I didn’t think she had enemies! She was like the girl next door. Everyone loved her. It’s like it could happen to anyone if it could happen to Mel and I’m so tired and scared and I don’t do well when I’m trapped somewhere I get claustrophobic and I just want to go home to my dogs and my dads and...” She hadn’t noticed she was crying until the tissues were handed to her, “Sorry. This is all very stressful. I don’t do well with stress.”

do you have any questions about how the case will proceed?

“I heard there was a fire? Is everyone ok?” She paused, “And will I get to go home soon? I don’t want to miss Christmas. My Dads and I always watch A Charlie Brown Christmas and I have their gifts here and my Pop is going to have a conniption if I’m not home and I want to see my friends because we always celebrate Kwanzaa at their place and...” She sighed, “And you don’t care. Can I go now?”

[bird-was-here]

bird van rees-jha [the glow stick]

freckle-covered cheeks, constellations in the summer sky, the bittersweet feeling of being in the future and knowing how things turn out, yet being unable to tell your past self, finding pictures in the clouds, glasses slipping down your nose, new years resolutions, character development, skipping stones in lakes during the summertime, staying seated in the movie theatre until the very end of the credits roll, lemon meringue pie, dancing in the light of the refrigerator, covering your laptop in stickers, watching raindrops have races down your window, an old comic book collection in a box at the back of your closet, wanting, so desperately, to don your own cape and mask.

name: bird van rees-jah

age: 22 (march 17 ‘97, pisces)

pronouns: she/her

major: women’s studies & music therapy double major

year: 4th

Hello friends! It is I, Mickey, here with baby bird. I think I reached out to most of you about plotting so I’m going to keep this short and sweet (I’m also about to pass out so excuse any nonsense. Though this is Bird we’re talking about. Nonsense comes with the territory.)

Here’s the skinny...

Bird spent most of her childhood in the foster care system, angry and lonely and upset with the world.

She was depressed, failing out of school, a terror for her various foster parents and ran away multiple times.

It was only when she was around 10, maybe 11 at the troubled youth program/Bible study that she was forced to go to did she meet who would become her adoptive father: a reverend based out of Hemlock.

It took... years for Bird to come around. Slowly but surely, however, Bird came around.

It was a lot of climbing out of windows then sitting in silence then screaming then crying. No one had stuck with her before like her Dad had. So it only made sense that when she was about 13 he would take her under his wing so to speak.

Bird, by the way, isn’t her birth name but has since had it legally changed. She decided when she was a kid that she wanted to be called Bird and, in all honesty, her father was the only one who respected that wish.

She struggled to catch up with school, the public school systems in some of the worst neighborhoods in Chicago did not serve her well. But at this point in her life, with some stability and a warm home to turn to she was determined to excel.

Ultimately, she knew she wanted to help other people. Kids that were like her. She wanted to be a positive role model. If she could do it, so could anyone else.

It was fooling around on the drums at her father’s church that started her love affair with music. Percussion... beat making... bass they were all constructive ways to channel all of her anxious (and at times angry) energy.

Fast forward a little bit her father stumbles into a relationship and now Bird has two Dads, two great danes, a ragdoll cat and a soundproof garage to make music in. So you know, things definitely were looking up.

She’s a much happier person now. She lets herself be herself. She never thought she’d be this excited to see what the future holds for her but here she is.

Personality

Honestly, the kindest person you will ever meet. Never says a bad (as in mean, criticism doesn’t count) word about anybody. She is done with negativity. Good vibrations only.

She cries at almost everything, happy and sad. When she feels, she FEELS. When she loves, she LOVES like the world depends on it to turn.

She is determined and loyal and dedicated and loves her city and the people in her city. Especially young black women/queer kids who are going through a rough patch because life is really fucking hard sometimes.

She really wants to work with kids as a music therapist. She’s great with children and wants to adopt an army of them one day.

Extrovert in every sense of the word.

She just wants to be helpful. And she likes to make people laugh.

A close friend or not, she’ll shower you in yellow. If you’re speaking she’ll give you her undivided attention because she wants you to know that what you’re saying is important and worthy of her time. Unless you’re being rude, in which case she’ll just repeat what you’re saying until you leave.

Yes, she has the capacity to take things seriously. In fact, she takes a lot of things very seriously. Like her studies, the wellbeing of the people she loves, her culture, activism, her city, justice, life, time, etc.

Random tidbits...

Queer as fuck. She’s dated one man in her lifetime but definitely doesn’t seek them out.

She’s a jammer for the Hemlock Roller Ravens, a Derby league. I’m pretty sure her derby name is Tequila MockingBird. That just feels ~right~ to me.

One of her Dads is a preacher, the other is a retired army vet, as you can no doubt tell they are not your typical family and that’s just fine with her

She is the biggest nerd/geek you will ever come across. Anything sci-fi, afro-futurist, horror, thriller, pro wrestling, comedy, animated (I could go on...) she probably knows enough about it to make you a powerpoint.

Sweet tooth through the roof. Do not give her sugar. It’s like how you aren't supposed to feed gremlins after midnight, you know?

OH! She delivers newspapers so catch her skating by on her rollerskates or skateboard and tossing papers onto doorsteps. Really anything with wheels she loves. She’s got a need for speed.

What was that about keeping this short...? Ok, last thing. Promise. Here are some wanted connections:

Bandmates!

Flings!

Honestly anything! Bruh, I am so tired. I think I hit up most people anyway but feel free to slide into my dms if I missed you!

[bird-was-here]

actual footage of @brickyellow and Bird’s first meeting.

[elpasadoes]

Visit Original Link

When she talks, I hear the revolutions. In her hips, there’s revolutions. When she walks, the revolution’s coming. In her kiss, I taste the revolution! Rebel girl, Rebel girl, Rebel girl you are the queen of my world! Rebel girl, Rebel girl, I know I wanna take you home, I wanna try on your clothes oh…

[bird-was-here]

[fishingsleep]

[bird-was-here]

@ofantonia

[astvtine]

[klaarg]

[bird-was-here]

THIS WAY ☝︎ BIRD VAN REES-JHA (COVINGTONHQS)

THIS WAY ☟ LANGSTON “OZ” LAMARR (VERITAS 1.0-VERITAS THE FINAL CHAPTER)

[ofcelesticls]

HOW TO GET AWAY WITH MURDER ( & OTHER ASSORTED FELONIES )

a memoir by apt 06 & co.

feat. @bclthczcros @thcyer @ofhvney @wingsmelt @ofzola @the-great-and-wonderful-oz @mvgicians & @camcronturner

[bird-was-here]

@mvgicians

When Vitória texted him to be ready by noon he had no idea what for. But like most things Vitória asked him to do, he grumbled but complied.

“Hello, Vitória.”

His apartment was unsurprisingly well kept despite the circumstances, this was Oz after all. He showed her in. Oz was always dressed by 6:30 but hadn’t exactly been in the mood to roam around outside his apartment lately, “I brought food to you and yet you’re making me go out.” There was no point in asking if he had to, he assumed Vi wouldn’t take no for an answer, but it was implied. He paused, stalling.

He had yet to pull his coat out of the closet,  “And I’m still not sure why.”

Why could be referencing a lot of things that they could dissect at a later date.

[bclthczcros]

the first time zar saw oz, he thought he had him all figured out, from his plastic smile to his ironed khaki pants. he’d seen the same greeting, once upon a time; john jones v welcomed him to his home the same way, the home he’d look for any excuse to escape for the next twelve years. he’d watched his brothers grow the same way, learning to hide that wickedness behind practiced smirks. every word rehearsed, every step filled with confidence, the air about them that they could do no wrong. it never failed to make zar’s blood boil. he saw that same mask over oz’s face, and something in zar that first night he’d met him yearned to see it crack. he’d punched oz in the face; it hadn’t been pretty. 

but, as he read that exposing with shaking hands, he realized that oz hadn’t been the perpetrator in his hell of a house. in fact, he might even be the victim. the post wasn’t clear, but zar remembered what oz had said. i’ll never know why any of them hurt me. zar knew how that anger could build and build and build, how the inability to be good enough destroyed your insides before it destroyed anyone else. 

unsurprisingly, oz wasn’t in apartment six, and he found himself drifting down the hall, to wear he and nate used to live together. zar’s friends were his family, the closest thing he had to it, and oz had lost two of them. and oz left the front door open. he paused there for a good long while, trying to figure out what he was going to do, what he was going to say. but he found the words pooling at the base of his tongue, and twisted the knob himself. as soon as he came inside, zar lifted both of his hands up in surrender, “you don’t have to say anything,” he insisted, slipping inside and shutting the door with his back to keep his hands up. he slid them into the pockets of his hoodie, honey’s hoodie, trying to keep looking at oz but finding himself unable to. his eyes found his feet instead. 

“my dad’s an asshole,” zar started. “i was never… he didn’t want me, but he ended up with me in his house, with his wife, and his real sons. i didn’t… know, he was my father until i was thirteen,” until he’d brought ripley and newt home for the night, and one of the jones boys attached newt, and zar attacked him, nearly broke his fucking arm, and mrs. jones wanted him out of the house, because i don’t want her son in my home! “he didn’t look at me for five years, got rid of me as much as he could. but, he never…” zar swallowed, risking a glance upwards, “he never hit me; he outsourced that.” to his brothers, all to happy to torment him. “and he never hurt anyone i loved.” zar didn’t know the situation at oz’s home, but he thought of honey’s father, of patterns of domestic abuse. he licked his lips, turning his head to the side, trying desperately to keep his voice steady as he admits, “and i still wanted to kill him sometimes.” 

he let out a shaking breath, letting his eyes slide shut. “basically, i just wanted to say that… that i put you on my dad’s team for so long. i always thought it was so simple, y’know? the rich versus the poor, i guess. the put-together versus the ratty, as shallow as that sounds.” he shook his head. “i’m sorry i put you in the same boat as him, and i’m- i’m sorry i passed judgement on you so fast.” zar’s eyes slid open, and he forced himself to meet oz’s gaze. “and i’m… i’m sorry you had a shittier father than me.” 

after a moment of silence, zar locked away again, wiping under his eyes to assure no stray tears had escaped. “um, that’s all,” he said, already reaching for the doorknob. “i just. wanted to say that. i’ll go now.” 

@the-great-and-wonderful-oz

[bird-was-here]

When Oz first saw Zar, he thought he had the man figured out too. It was Zar’s scowl and attitude. How flippantly he walked around campus told Oz that this was a man who had thought with his heart first, who was angry, maybe righteously so (though Oz couldn’t see that at the time), trekking anarchist sensibilities and red paint all over his pristine campus.

What Oz hadn’t realized, or maybe what he didn’t want to realize, was that his distaste for Zar’s presence stemmed from a much deeper root. He didn’t like Zar because he didn’t like seeing someone walking around Ashmont who was as angry as he was. He didn’t like looking in that mirror. He didn’t like stepping down from his pedestal where it was safe, and all that reached him was praise and fake smiles and only the occasional pang of resentment or panic or fear leftover from a childhood that felt so far away. The human body -- especially the brain -- had an incredible means of healing itself after trauma. Oz wouldn’t fault his own for patching over entire years of his life. 

It had been a long fall down from his white marble perch, hadn’t it?

And in the dirt with everyone else, it was impossible to forget what he had been trying to climb away from in the first place. Not that he would ever really forget. But he could ignore feelings and confusion and grief. Filing that all away in some back recess of his mind. Oz could pretend that he was something he wasn’t. And for his entire undergraduate career, he excelled at playing as if he wasn’t slowly killing himself.

Maybe he should have felt... differently about the whole ordeal. Was it psychotic to feel at least minutely relieved? He’d built this persona of himself on an uneven foundation and now he didn’t have to worry about it all falling down on him anymore. And it wasn’t like the ominous presence hidden behind all of their little screens was wrong. A lot of people had shitty childhoods and didn’t kill a parent.

At first, it was self-defense. Self-defense that quickly spiraled to excessive. Oz didn’t even remember it happening which was the punchline wasn’t it? He remembers being chased into the study and then throwing up in the bathroom. That was it. Where was the rest of it? He was still a kid at the time, really.

Oz was seated by the open window, one of the chairs from the kitchen dragged into the open living space, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray when he heard the door open. He had expected it to be Zola, or, maybe, Vitória. Maybe Kiera. But not Zar. The sound of the man’s voice forced a quirked eyebrow from Oz, who only slightly tilted his head to look at his visitor who was now looking at his feet. He said nothing until Zar finished, exhaling before the doorknob could be turned, “My father didn’t want me either, it’s o.k.” He flicked the remainder of his cigarette butt into the ashtray, “I was so adamant that I wasn’t my Dad that I started becoming him and not me which is laughable. And tragic. I’m sure I gave you enough reason to assume -- you can sit.” He motioned to the piano bench not far away, hands running over his face with a long groan of a sign. Shaking his head,

“If he had never looked at me I would have been happy.” you could see him visibly shiver before scratching the side of his face, “I think... By the time I was old enough to really understand what was happening, I knew how to play his game well enough. It was either me or my mom so.” He glanced out the window, “So I made sure it was always me.” It was amazing that Oz had come out of that environment with no real physical scars. It was all invisible (or at least nothing so concerning anyone would notice). The physical had heald beautifully, the trauma and the resulting disabilities? Not so much. Which... Almost felt too on brand. Everything was so hush-hush in Ashmont, “We both had shitty fathers. And we both were shitty to each other. I’ll forgive you if you forgive me.” He glanced at Zar, then held out his hand, “Deal?”

[bird-was-here]

Oz had just been unmasked as a murderer.

Not that it was too much of a surprise at this point. Every other person at this university was a murderer.

Regardless, he barely allowed himself the scope to fume at his own exposure. No. No, because there was that name again. The ‘French’ exchange student that Oz had never liked. Call him elitist, call him biased, call him jealous, but he had always felt an odd atmosphere surrounding Sam. Energy that felt too familiar to go unnoticed. At this point, Oz had lost count of the masks he wore. Had worn. He’d come to find them more trouble than they were worth these days.

Case and point.

He had just finished burning his letters to Daisey and Nathaniel when he heard the door to the neighboring apartment open, then slam. He pressed his good ear to the wall. Heard the call.

Got you, motherfucker.

It was easy enough to position himself out by the back door of the building, figuring Sam wouldn’t risk scrambling out into the open, running into Kiki or Zar or Dee. The brick felt cool against the back of his shirt, waiting for the thud of shoes on dirty concrete steps.

His arm reached out instinctively when the door opened, catching Sam-- Luca -- by the back collar of his shirt. His voice was even, too devoid of any indication of emotion to be a good sign.

“Where you going?”

[bird-was-here]

Tomorrow will be beautiful - Oz Self Para (06?/??), pre-exposing

Mentioned:

@veritashq​ (I wasn’t sure where to tag Nate), @bclthczcros​, @mvgicians​, @ofcelesticls​, @atdelilah, @ofzola, @nevaehporter, @parkcrss

Dear Nate,

Oz paused, pen blotting onto the lined paper.

He should be at the game right now.

But it just… didn’t seem all that important anymore. He showed his face, albeit briefly, what more did they want from him?

I miss your laugh.

A lot.

Honestly, he had gone to the field with the sole intention of signing the book then leaving. Excuse him for not feeling very spirited as of late. Anyway, his time on student government, his connection to undergrad professors and administration was over, really. They hounded him for speeches and appearances that he was too jaded to ever accept, sure, but like most other things in his life appearances weren’t really of his concern anymore.

He stood in front of the book for a long time. Leaving. Then returning to it. Leaving again.

Picking up the pen.

Putting it back down.

Enough.

He wasn’t even there when the lights were cut. He didn’t see Holden carted away. He learned about that from whoever had taken over Daisey’s blog.

It took him all of his willpower to refrain from initiating anything.

The last thing he wanted was for someone else he cared about to get hurt.

Dear Daisey,

So, he went home. Yes. Home. To his apartment. The one he shared with Nate and often shared with Daisey. For a moment he stood just inside the doorway, pressing his back against the wood.

I like to think you loved me at some point, or in some way, just not the way I wanted you too and that’s OK. It’s always been OK.

He started on his route. The flat of his palm brushed over the back of Nate’s chair.

What was that quote, from the BBC show, Sherlock? I think we’ve watched a few episodes. (It must have been with Daisey. We hardly ever watched television.) Anyway, there’s a quote from Watson something like, “One more miracle, for me, don’t be dead.”

He moved into his bedroom first, finding the sweater — Daisey’s — he had in his closet. It still smelled like her.

I know that’s just fiction. But if you want to come back, be my guest. I’ll keep all of your tupperware containers safe for you.

The kitchen and living areas were where they congregated together most often. At the piano. On the couch. Nate would read and Oz would brush his fingers through Daisey’s. Sometimes he played for both of them. Sometimes he played for Daisey. Or just for Nate.

The last… good… interaction he had with Nate was at this piano.

The last time Nate smiled with him. Did people know Nate had dimples too? Kiera most likely did. Oz supposed Nate didn’t show them to just anyone.

Who am I going to play chess with now? Edit: Who is going to be the hardest to beat at chess now?

The kitchen was his most coveted recluse in their apartment though, when they were all together. Oz was a morning person. Opposite of Nate. He liked waking up early. He liked cooking while Daisey sat on the counter. He liked his morning cups of coffee with Nate. He missed them.

Who am I going to go grocery shopping with?

He thought about when they were kids. He thought about Libby and Danny and Kiki. He remembers flying kites and running through the woods and the rock they all liked to sit on.

It was really a boulder.

I don’t know if I’d ever get married but in my head you’d be my best man. I guess I figured we’d die within moments of each other like Jefferson and Adams.

He wondered if it was still there. If other little Ashmont kids who needed to escape had made it their home base as well.

I tried reading one of your books the other day but good lord, man, you spoke a whole other language didn’t you?

He smiled to himself. Sitting at the kitchen table.

It was always better hearing you explain things anyway. Sometimes, when we would meet for lunch after your class (the one you TA’ed and complained about the most, it was in lecture hall D4, you said they didn’t respect you, and you were right. They were god awful first years weren’t they? They didn’t deserve you would be a more appropriate term. Really, you shouldn’t have been put in an intro class… ) Anyway, I would stand in the back and just listen to your lecture. You always impressed me. No matter what you did.

Whoever had exposed him had said he didn’t sign the book, which was correct. He didn’t.

But he wrote them letters.

Long letters, pages and pages that would have no doubt annoyed Daisey. Nate would have appreciated them.

I forgive you, Daisey. I still don’t think I’ve repaid you enough for how you’ve been there for me so

A pause.

we’ll call it even?

People weren’t one dimensional. He’ll never understood why Daisey did the things she did. He never understood why Nate didn’t talk to him.

I’m sure you had your reasons for running. Even if it hurts to think about. I know you had your reasons. I just wish you would have talked to me, Nate. Assuming you could.

He the fingertips of one hand over his brow.

Still, next time I see you, I’m going to knock one of your teeth out.

And hug you because I didn’t do that enough. And you’ll deal with it.

He turned his head. The wall, right there next to him had once been covered with blood. And the floor with little glass pieces with flower petal boats floating on the surface, going nowhere.

Kiera doesn’t hate you. She was worried you might think she did. I told her no one could ever hate her. Especially not you.

He finished Daisey’s letter.

I know I’ll always love you, in our own odd way. You were one of my first, and one of my best friends. Being angry all the time has exhausted me. And by angry I mean I was furious with you.

This is the last time I’ll question “why?” For my own sanity. I know I’ll never have an answer. Rather, not an answer I’ll be content with. And I’m learning to be OK with that fact.

But he was moving on, wasn’t he? He loved her and didn’t love her anymore at the same time.

He finished Nate’s letter.

I’ve been meaning to tell you this joke. It’s silly but I thought it’d at least make you smile.

It’s about Sherlock Holmes and Watson.

It goes:

Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson decide to go on a camping trip. After dinner and a bottle of wine, they lay down for the night, and go to sleep.

Some hours later, Holmes awoke and nudged his faithful friend.

"Watson, look up at the sky and tell me what you see."

Watson replied, "I see millions of stars."

"What does that tell you?”

And then he rose from the kitchen table putting both letters neatly in envelopes. He tried to correct his penmanship for their names on the front.

Watson pondered for a minute.

"Astronomically, it tells me that there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets.

He held them in his hands for a moment. Before moving to the bathroom.

Astrologically, I observe that Saturn is in Leo.

The lighter was… Actually a gift from Nate, wasn’t it? Years ago.

Horologically, I deduce that the time is approximately a quarter past three.

This would be the first Christmas he didn’t share with both of them.

Theologically, I can see that God is all powerful and that we are small and insignificant.

Which was sad, depressing even, but maybe… Maybe this would be the first Christmas he shared with Vi. And Kiki. And the rest of her ragtag gang — even Zar. The Lamar, no Jordan-Lamar estate was big enough for everyone. His mother always put on a spectacle anyway. They’d need the extra hands to help set up the tree. And Dee would pout on the couch, and Zo would dance Nevaeh around and Parker would surely wear one of those funny hats with the elf ears...

Meteorologically, I suspect that we will have a beautiful day tomorrow.”

Tomorrow would come. And go. And Nate and Daisey would still be gone. And Oz was learning to, if not be OK with that, to accept it. He had other people in his life too, now. Other people he loved and cared about and who were there. They deserved his brain space, and time, and energy. He’d reserve the quiet moments, like these, for Daisey and of course Nate.

Burning the letters in the sink felt... Like a release.

"What does it tell you, Holmes?”

Wherever they were, they’d get them.

Holmes was silent for a minute, then spoke: "Watson, you idiot. Someone has stolen our tent!"

[bird-was-here]

[text >> Jordan-Lamar Family Grext]

[atdelilah]

Oz: What are everyone's plans this upcoming Sunday?

Oz: After the Sunday service, of course.

delilah: why?

delilah: actually, don't worry about answering that, i'm probably not coming anyways

delilah: to whatever plan you're hatching or to service, that is

[bird-was-here]

Oz: I just thought it’d be nice to get together for dinner ((*editor’s note: this was a lie))

Oz, seperately to Dee: I mean, I’m not going to Sunday servuce either. Absolutely not.

Oz: I was hoping we could have a guest over. I guess you don’t have to be there Delilah.

Marilyn: Time?

Marilyn: Your father and I would love to see you Delilah, but understand if you have other plans 😘

Oz, seperately to Dee: They’d rather you come to dinner than me. What am I, chopped liver to my own mother?

[bird-was-here]

🌺 All of Oz's clothes are organized by color and season. everything is neatly folded and he picks his clothes out for the week ahead of time

10/10

//I LOVE HOW ALL OF THESE ARE CLOTHING ASSUMPTIONS YES OZ LIKES TO LOOK HIS BEST OK??

If you want to annoy Oz change the position of two items in his closet he’s know RIGHT AWAY.

[bird-was-here]

🌺 oz is the guy who lays out his entire outfit the night before to make getting ready in the morning as quick n efficient as possible and nothing can change my mind

9/10

// Listen. Oz doesn’t like the unknown. It stresses him out. So yes, he thinks about what he’s going to wear the next day. But he is also a morning person so he he takes his time to work out, shower, and get dressed in the morning because he can. Sometimes he’ll change his mind and be bold at the last minute and decide to go WITHOUT A TIE SCANDALOUS I KNOW.

He also LOVES a theme so like if theres a holiday or event his clothing/color choices most likely will reflect that. He’s all browns and earth tones and oranges since it’s fall.

Lately he hasn’t been as consistent with his fashion choices just because he’s been a tol sad boi, but he’s getting back into his routine. Slowly but surely.