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@bvdsigns
BVDSIGNS. a multi-muse, dependent oc blog for willowglenhq. written by frankie.
JULIAN KOENIG. 32, industrial designer. intro + connections. posts. inspo. JESSE GONZALES. 46, writer/comedian. intro + connections. posts. inspo.
header.
CURRENTLY ON HIATUS UNTIL JULY 12TH!
THREAD TRACKER LAST UPDATED: JULY 6, 7:50AM (GMT+8)
brooks stares at julian a second, entirely perplexed and entirely not awake enough or sober enough to confront this mess they’ve gotten themselves into . julian smacking his head upon the table not once , but twice usually would’ve had brooks laughing , but he’s scared he might throw up if his muscles so much as contract . “ i have no fucking idea . “ he means it on multiple fronts — what had transpired the evening before , who destroyed the room , who they were with … “ i remember the bar . those drinks . i remember … “ taking those pills . the words die on his tongue , a cold sweat creeping onto his brow at the mere potential that what he’d thought was ecstasy was actually something more sinister . his tongue runs across his lower lip , the taste of iron sending shaking fingertips to his mouth , pulling them away to discover his nose is bleeding . “ fuck . “ brooks tries to stumble his way to the bathroom , tripping over an overturned chair and nearly faceplants , his shoulder rams into the bathroom doorframe before he can snatch a wad of toilet paper to hold to his face . he takes a look at himself … yeesh . his hair stands in nearly every direction , dark circles beneath glassy eyes , the bloom of a bruise around his left eye . the shirt he’d worn the previous night haphazardly buttoned , like he’d taken it off and tried to put it back on blindfolded . but what makes his stomach fall is the way his belt hangs unbuckled around his waist .
brooks squeezes his eyes shut , tilts his head back to stop the bleeding and tries to retrace their steps . neon lights , laughter, somebody grabbing his hand and dragging him through a crowd , a girl with long dark hair smiling at something he'd said , a voice telling him they should go somewhere else . after that ? nothing . absolutely nothing . and he can’t remember julian’s role , whatsoever — how they made it back , what he'd gotten up to , what they’d taken after the pills he’d acquired . the realization settles in his chest — brooks had made plenty of mistakes in his life , but he could live with them because he remembered making them . this was different — this felt like somebody had erased entire hours of his life , had taken from him and julian their very sanity . for a second , his thoughts drift towards aria and catches himself immediately making excuses . they weren't together , weren't exclusive . . . but still . the thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth because if something had happened last night , he wouldn't even remember it — the who , where , when . wouldn’t know a thing .
eyes fly open , head splitting again as he shuffles back into the room where julian is , grabs two bottles of water from the minifridge ( which , oddly enough , looks unscathed ) and rolls one to jules across the floor , flopping his large frame down onto the carpet with a grunt . “ i don’t know who we were with . “ his voice is rough , vocal chords torn , like he’d spent the entirety of the previous night screaming . his ears ring loudly , another clue about their activities the night before . brooks shuts his eyes again , the bottom of the icy bottle finding its way to his bruise with a wince . he must look a mess . and who was to blame ? . . . himself .
“ i don’t think i can deal with all this yet , “ he admits , keeps his eyes shut because it’s more pleasant than looking at the state of the room . “ i just need , like . . . “ the hand formerly holding a bloody tissue to his nose finds his pocket , a torn condom wrapper falls out — brooks curses himself internally — but continues on to extrude a crushed carton of cigarettes and a purple sparkly lighter that reads , ‘ FUCK ME IM JAPANESE ’ , what he can only assume is the same saying in japanese on the opposite side . one eye peers grimly at the lighter , and brooks laugh — sure , it’s disconcerting , but not the most damning thing he’d discovered this morning — and shoves a smoke into his mouth , lights it , throws the two items in julian’s general direction . “ bro , what the fuck happened ? “ he asks after a moment , smoke exhaled in a huff like blowing is too much effort . “ walk me through exactly what you remember .”
he blinked a few times up at brooks, eyes adjusting to the light that finally allowed him to see the shape his friend was in. disheveled state matched with the theme of the room, clothes barely hanging onto his limbs, the makings of a bruise cushioning his eye. so far it all pointed in the direction of the kind of night they had and it made him feel queasier by the minute. julian wondered about his own appearance, though his already aching joints already told him that a mirror wouldn’t do him any favors. he’d zoned out for a bit when suddenly brooks was bolting towards the bathroom. julian hadn’t yet woken up enough to wonder what that was about, and instead remained sitting there waiting for his senses to boot up one by one until he could start to feel the scratchy fibers of the carpet, the taste of his own mouth, the dampened smell of cigarettes mixed with something vaguely acidic. like alcohol. or vomit. spotting their luggage by the kitchenette, he managed to drag himself far enough until he could get on all fours, crawling past cigarette butts and pieces of food and displaced furniture and articles of clothing that did not belong to them. when he reached the suitcases, it was clear that there was barely anything in it save for some shirts. but he couldn’t care less about that, he had more clothes back home. where were the other stuff? the presents they’d bought for their friends and family? he looked around and spotted a paper bag nearby from one of the stores they’d visited the other day, only to discover that it was empty. he hadn’t noticed brooks exiting the bathroom until a bottle of water rolled towards him. he could barely muster the strength to open the cap or get on his feet, limping over to the couch, spilling the liquid as he plopped on the (somehow wet?) cushions. “fuck, man…” scrunched his face at how brooks was apparently trying to stop a nosebleed with a tissue against his nostril and yet a cigarette still seemed like a good idea. pack tossed at his feet, he lit a stick, hunched over himself as he jogged his memory.
“we just had dinner, met up with some people from the other day. i think… one of them was named lily?” it was admittedly easier to remember than the others, with syllables he couldn’t accidentally switch around as he was wont to do. “we all left to go someplace, but… i can’t remember where. probably a bar?” judging by where they had dinner, it seemed like the most logical guess. but how did they get from dinner to drinks to a wrecked hotel room? when did brooks’ black eye get to factor into any of it? and what happened to all their stuff? and speaking of their stuff — “shit.” hands frantically patted around his jeans for his wallet, sighed in relief when he felt the lump in his back pocket, pulling out the brown leather billfold to make absolutely certain that he did have it and that his cards and ids were still intact, though the bills he’d exchanged at the airport were all gone. he wasn’t too worried, though; it may have been more from reckless spending than a robbery. he checked his other pockets for any other clues for what they were up to last night and produced a parking ticket to some club timestamped at 01:26 along with a mahjong tile. “what the fuck is this?” held up both items for brooks to inspect.
the door gives a little easier this time, and gianna knows it's not just from her. " thank you. " she hasn't gotten quite used to being pregnant just yet. merrick has developed a special habit of not letting her lift anything over five pounds. she pulls her sunglasses down from the top of her head and licks her ice cream while listening. she laughs, almost snorting. " god, i wouldn't even think about it. you should join it, though. who would be your companion at the ivey if you did ? " her brow wiggles in curiosity while her hand settles on the curve of her back, steps careful. " oh my god, hush. " gianna playfully shoves jesse's arm while breathing in a soft breath, brushing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. " hm, not sure. i could get a fancy steak dinner at home if i asked for it. perks of having a chef for a husband. " though, it seems she's been having an aversion to most meat right about now. " her brow lifts. " what're you gettin' at ? sounds like you're talking about yourself, j. "
"you know, i got a problem with that. how does a wet t-shirt contest lead to a luxury experience targeted at couples? it feels a little anti-singles, don't you think?" no one was stopping him from taking a friend—if he were to enter the competition, let alone win, what with his lack of desirable assets as far as the eye can see through a wet shirt—and he was probably the only one assigning a special kind of meaning to an otherwise platonic experience, but he was a hopeless romantic, sue him. "seeing as the alternative is my ex-wife... any chance you'll let me borrow your husband?" he could never hold a candle to a determined eighteen-year old training for her first sorority rush, but maybe, if they were to set up a dad bod category just for him, he just might have a fighting chance. body swung exaggeratedly at the direction of gianna's push, he kept his ice cream perfectly balanced in his hand while plastic spoon stuck out of his mouth. "we get it, merrick is perfect and you're the luckiest girl in the world and we're all dying of jealousy" rolled his eyes dramatically like his friends' marriage personally offended him. of course he was happy for them—overjoyed, really, ecstatic when he'd heard the news—but he'd been single for an embarrassing amount of time now for being in his forties and being around married people his age made him feel worse. his pride and idealism had to deal significant damage by the fifth failed date. "'i'm always talkin' 'bout myself, gi. it's kind of what i do for a living." spoon was dug lightly into the small, creamy mound before it's shoved back into his mouth. "i was suggesting you join the contest on my behalf, but i just remembered your husband has enough knives in his collection to cut me in behalf."
░ ☆ closed starter : julian koenig . ( @bvdsigns )
⤷ 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘇 - 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗹𝘁𝗼𝗻 , 𝘁𝗼𝗸𝘆𝗼 , 𝟭𝟭:𝟰𝟭 𝗮𝗺 .
by the time they'd been in tokyo a day or so , brooks head was already threatening to split open , nerves feeling more raw than they had in months . what could he chalk it up to — jetlag ? withdrawal ? disconnection from people who mattered ? whatever the cause , it'd been uncomfortable enough to drive brooks to figuring out some back alley , smokescreen hand - shaking deal through whatsapp to acquire what he'd anticipated would make the trip better . a party upper of sorts to make japan even more trippy and memorable than it was already destined to be . revealing to julian what he'd been able to find , despite the fourteen - hour time difference and the language barrier , brooks felt unnecessarlly relieved , like he could let his shoulders relax and really numb himself from feeling anything for the next few hours .
but , it turns out , there had been a miscommunication , the language barrier had been an issue . because now he wakes up , cheek pressed to the carpet of the hotel room , right eye tender to the touch like someone who might have been punched the night before . he groans , rolling onto his back with an ugly thump and one sleepy eye peers to find jules sprawled out under the coffee table , one shoe on while the other is nowhere to be found . brooks' mouth is dry , throat sore , head feeling like someone had taken a baseball bat to it . brooks drops his head back to the floor , hand feeling around beside him for anything to throw at julian and connecting with the abandoned shoe , quickly launching it at jules' head . “ julian , ” brooks calls , voice hoarse like someone who had been speaking loudly for hours the night before , “ dude . wake up . ” he dares another glance around the room and is instantly horrified — a traffic cone sits front and centre in the room , a lamp is upside down and missing the bulb , their suitcases are flung open on the floor and entirely ransacked . “ what the fuck . . . ” he mumbles to himself , rolling to the side to push himself up onto his knees , world spinning while stomach lurches . it's like a tornado has touched down in the room , and his stomach only feels queasier knowing who's footing the bill . “ julian . ”
the last thing he remembers is going for drinks in shinjuku . one drink , maybe two . the pills he'd thought were molly , but . . . how could he be sure ? he finally pushes himself to his feet , moving to nudge jules with feet still clad in dirty , beer - stained vans . “ bro , i think we got robbed or something . this place is a fucking disaster . ”
state of unconsciousness has been dreamless, as they often were—unless the night before counted. one minute, they were getting drinks with some new friends in a dodgy, neon-lit bar in a congested part of town; next thing he knew the sun was already up and a shoe was getting thrown at his head. he awoke not slowly, but with a shock, like frankenstein had infused him with a spark of being or whatever the fuck it said in that book summer liked to read. “huhwhat-” jerked alive, body summoned with the strength of a lightning bolt without accounting for space, forehead banged against the underside of the table that sent his head bouncing back against the floor. “aw, fuck… shit…” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut, head pounding not from the impact, but from something familiar and simultaneously somehow worse. he stayed in place for a minute as he found his bearings, wanted to wait for the room to stop spinning in the darkness behind his eyelids before it slowly dawned on him that it may never will. it was just gonna have to be one of those mornings. but how? trying to recall the events of the night before felt like trying to reach for a wall socket with a charger that somehow never fits. something wasn’t adding up, and he thought that squeezing his eyes harder might bring back something, but all it did was make his head hurt worse. he wanted to go back to sleep, and if brooks hadn’t nudged him with his foot, uttering the word ‘robbed’ he just might have. “what - ow, fuck!” immediately forgot about the glass above him, making another loud clang as his skull once again met the table. he wormed his way out from underneath until he was absolutely sure he had enough head clearance to sit up, carefully, so brain soup didn’t spill from his ears. finally able to get a good look at the living room, or what was left of it, he had to remind himself that he was on the other side of the planet and a cold shiver ran up his spine. must've been the draft.
“did we do this?” whispered like a scandal, still sat like a mermaid on the floor, he squinted up at brooks, morning light spilling through the missing open curtains. “and what do you mean robbed? weren’t we with…” vaguely recalled the company of a girl with long, dark straight hair up to her ass in the teeny tiniest sequined peach dress, another girl with a purple buzzcut and a tattoo of a temple on her forearm and some guy in a suit and gold-rimmed glasses, but that was before dinner, he was pretty sure. “fuck, who were we with?”
“ oh ⸺ jesus “ the scream ollie lets out is much louder than she’d intended it to be , always easily startled , body cringing together with a shutter the second julian popped up at her side . “ my goodness . . . what are you doing creeping around like that ? “ still playful despite the dissipating fear in her eyes , concern etches across each of her features , taking in his new look , somehow had become much more ominous than she’d already known him to be . “ of course , “ said like it shouldn’t even be a question , “ sit , just give me one second , “ she motions towards an empty stool off the the side before attention turns back to her customer , brushing on a few final details before sending them on their way . “ what’s with the whole . . . undercover thing ? are you about to rob a bank or something ⸺ oh my god , are you trying to make me an accomplice ? “ hand raises to press digits to her chest with simulated shock , “ i can’t go to jail , julian . . . i’m too whimsical , they’ll kill me ! “ truthful , even if she laughs all the same . “ your text had me a little , um . . . worried , i guess , “ steps begin to carry her back towards her paint station , rinsing and wiping her brushes , motioning for julian to move to the other chair situated in the middle of the booth . “ is everything okay ? “
the customer gave julian a look of suspicion as she passed him, and he retaliated with a petulant stink eye that did not penetrate the tint of his sunglasses nor the woman's ego. head ducked bashfully when ollie brought attention to his appearance, "it's come to that point, i guess," he piggybacked on the joke, turning himself in the chair in ollie's direction while she attended to her things. "uh... yeah." hand shot up to his neck, rubbing the skin there as he reconsidered the lie. "well... no. not really. but i guess they will be." he worried his bottom lip, teeth picking at the chapped fibers. "things... got a little out of hand in tokyo. uh, long story short, we lost all our stuff, including our passports. we had to get temporary ones at the embassy." hand shoved into the pocket of his cargo shorts, he pulled out something small and pink and sparkly, making a tinny jingling sound as he handled it in his palm. "but i got this for you at the airport." winced slightly as he awaited her reaction. "i know it's not as cool as the pens or the stickers, but... i couldn't go home empty-handed."
“ you eat too slow . . . we’re surrounded by food and you’re still working on four tacos that are like half the size of your hand , “ huffs , feigning a frustrated sigh as red solo cup full of frozen margarita is lifted to her lips . “ ugh god ⸺ don’t ask me that , “ eyes drift from his view , memories of the sheer mental breakdown that she only now felt confident enough to say she was recovering from clouding her mind like war flashbacks . “ shit kind of hit the fan last week but ⸺ like , i’m fine , “ she would be , anyways . “ but i’m actually working on opening an office for the magazine in london , we’ve been trying to figure out how to expand for months now and i’m kind of mad this has only just come to me , “ a sip of her drink taken , licking remnants from the corner of her lips . “ are you , like , done being a hermit now ? were you ever even a hermit in the first place or were you just avoiding me at all costs because you hate me and want me to die ? “
"chewing slowly aids digestion," mentioned as if he held a medical degree of some sort or was at all licensed to give out such advice. "it also apparently makes the food taste better, so." took another bite as if to demonstrate. "i read it online, i'll send you a link," said with a mouthful of shrimp and cabbage. no one can say that his morning facebook doomscrolls were unproductive. he looked at aria pensively as she cryptically shared about her previous week, curious to ask further, but decided against it, instead focused on the update on her work. eyebrows raised at the mention of london—he shouldn't have been surprised, considering where aria was from and it probably made sense to expand closer to home, but still. it was ways away. "london! wow... texas getting too small for you?" he chided, glib expression turning sour in a blink. "whoa, whoa, cool it, geez. and keep your voice down, i don't wanna be implicated in case you slip and break your neck or somethin'." played along for kicks, voice reduced to a mumble as he cautiously looked around for any eavesdroppers. "but no, my agent's just been houndin' my ass about my script so i was just... locked in, as the kids say. heard about the block party and thought i could use a break. don't tell caroline." feared mentioning his agent one more time would summon her like beetlejuice. he'd seen her after a night out, he wasn't too far off.
she should be much more steadfast, considering the way eyes near boggle out of her head when explanation of what looks like the equivalent of a mosquito-be-gone truck is overridden by confident tone of boy in her lap. " my firetruck. s'green 'cause it's my favorite color ! " cookie is raised high for jesse to see, showing off his best impression of the sirens, an impressed laugh from brunette. " it's ... kind of his whole thing right now. firetrucks, bluey, and ... dinosaurs. " a firm nod, a glance to sugary treat before her eyes settle on jesse, scrunching her nose.
" again, i'm really sorry. think he's just a little overeager with everything going on ... wants to do everything at once. " her eyes turn to look around tabletop. smile curls at glossy lips. " i can get you guys another one ? something less ... verdant. " oh, wow: vocabulary word for the day.
oh, heart melter. jesse swooned, hand to his chest as the toddler proudly presented his magnum opus, cookie looking cartoonishly large in his small hands. "oh, a firetruck, of course — doy!" tapped the heel of his palm to his forehead, amping up his facial expressions for the sake of the child. he spared a glance at noemi as she enlightened him with the boy's current fixations before returning his attention to little man as if to confirm the allegations. "d'you wanna be a fireman when you grow up? maybe... a dinosaur?" fake gasp, shock coloring his face at the mere thought. this was just like crowd work, if the crowd did not yet possess the mental faculties to fully grasp the tangible reality. this was so much easier. he brushed noemi's offer aside with a lazy flick of his hand. "s'fine, don't worry 'bout it." offered her a reassuring smile. he looked down at his own plate, dog-shaped cookie smeared with a tinge of firetruck green. "i can just say buster here had a nice frolic around the grass. or was messin' around with the firetruck's new paint job. here." he nudged the plate in the pair's direction. "every firetruck needs its fire dog, don't you think?" addressing the boy once again.
BROADCAST NEWS (1987) dir. James L. Brooks
Columbus (2017)
status : open for all ! location : on the way out — georgia's !
" god, it's so hot today. " maybe it has something to do with the growing life in her, but gianna feels like she's on the verge of heatstroke. okay, maybe she's being dramatic. gianna pushes the door to georgia's open, two scoops of strawberry atop a waffle cone in her grasp. " so, what should we do first ? i heard something about a wet t-shirt contest later ? i swear, this town gets crazier every time we do this. i think it was a silent karaoke contest last year. "
gianna was the kind of woman men would fight to open doors for only to end up getting the door herself. still, jesse couldn't help but to offer his assistance, giving the door an extra push with one hand over her head while he balanced his own paper cup of gelato in the other. the warmth that steamrolled towards them made him wish they didn't have to leave the nice, airconditioned room. "ricky would kill me if i let you join a wet t-shirt contest." not that he thought she needed her husband's permission. "then again... you'd be an easy free steak and a weekend at the ivey." he was trying his damndest to not let his eyes linger below her neck. he didn't know if the pregnancy upgrade would be an unfair advantage for the other participants—surely there was nothing in the standard regulations for nurturing the gift of life and making use of the... other gifts it came with. "but what's a girl who still has her fancy italian tan and a shiny new wedding ring on her finger gonna do with all of that, anyway? her single, lonely, carnivore friend in dire need of a massage, however..."
status : open for all ! location : on the edge of the party — food trucks !
" wait, try this ! " jina is beaming, grinning ear to ear with a ketchup coated tornado potato in one hand. she's been having the time of her life at the block party, flitting around as if she was determined to do everything possible. " wait, okay— i promise this is the last thing i want you to try. who wouldn't want a potato like this ? i feel like we never have something like this over at the lot. come on, please ? "
he was here now, whether he liked it or not—running on two hours of sleep with a busted lip, a star painted on his face, and a thousand yard stare into the ground while jina bounced around the square, only occasionally returning to bring him something to try, like everything was a discovery. julian lifted his gaze this time to find her presenting him with some kind of skewer, like a cat with a dead bird. "i feel like you're just makin' me try stuff first to see if they're edible." which wasn't a terrible idea; his stomach had to be made of steel after all the shit he's ingested in his lifetime. he grabbed the stick from jina and held it up as if to appraise its value like it was the crystal skull or something. "isn't it just a giant twisty french fry?"
⌗ 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝗋 , face painting @ the block party .
“ okay . . . before i give you the mirror , remember you gave me free reign to paint whatever i wanted , “ tongue pokes into the side of her cheek like she’s on the precipice of a masterpiece , finishing touches brushed onto the side of a cheek already decorated with a design of her choice . there’s a soft breath blown on their side of their face to help the paint settle , patting the wet remnants into their place . “ close your eyes , “ request comes with a giggle , mirror held up to their face as soon as lids fall shut . “ okay , open ! “ there’s a smile that tugs at the corners of her face that slowly dissipates , second guessing before a reaction can even be made . “ oh no . . . do you hate it ? i can wipe it off ⸺ but it’s festive ! at least keep it on for like thirty minutes . . . “ and there it was , the poked out lip , the doe eyes she never hesitated to use to her advantage . “ pleeaasseee ? “
julian hadn't planned on going to the block party, hadn't really intended to leave the house at all; japan sucked the life out of him and he wanted to crawl under the covers and sleep for forty-eight hours. besides, he'd already told brooks he wasn't going, if he even really cared, and julian wasn't quite sure he was ready to run into him just yet. still, he told himself he was here for one reason and one reason only: give ollie that damn keychain and get a dumb star painted on his face. the latter of course hadn't been in the cards at all until ollie had asked, in that way that ollie asks for things where she gets what she wants like how she'd gotten julian to make her that paint cup and make it pink. stars weren't really his thing, but neither were half-finished smileys, either, and he'd already had his chest vandalized—what was one more indignity on his face? grateful dead cap sitting on his head (it both annoyed and relieved him that he'd lost nearly everything in tokyo but this stupid cap) and a pair of black sunglasses on his face, he walked along the square, slowly, like he was stalking prey, not wanting to make eye contact with any of the vendors and booth attendants and get shanghaied into some game he'd rather not be playing. or worse... run into someone he knew and have them ask about his trip. he'd sooner join a wet t-shirt contest. finally, he found ollie's booth, currently occupied by a customer getting her face done with something that made her eyes look like they sprouted butterfly wings. heh, butterfleyes. he didn't make his presence known immediately, just lingered at the front of the booth where he stood admiring the different designs ollie must've drawn herself until the customer left. hands in his pockets, he greeted ollie with one of those single chin-up nods. "hey." half-smile slightly askew, he was starting to take after the smiley on his chest. "you got a minute?"
it all happened so quickly. she's sat, head nuzzled against toddler's temple while helping guide unsteady hand to fill in outline she'd prepared on truck-shaped cookie, clearly unaware of the chubby-cheeked mischief on her son's face while a plan brewed. " i help paint your cookie. " the strength of a three year old is no joke, taken aback by how quickly sol is able to snatch his hand away and squeeze piping bag so hard that the cap comes clean off, green frosting splattering over nearby work, a gasp leaving her mouth before any words can. " ... baby, do you remember what mommy said about keeping our hands to ourselves ? " the question is met with an immediate shake of his head, a grimace growing on her face, already distracted by something else.
doe eyes hesitantly raise, another apology readied in the chamber for whatever insult she assumes they'll hurl. " sorry, he ... he usually doesn't do that. " a mumble, reaching over for a napkin and attempting to clean up the mess. " did we get any on you ? "
block party, open starter.
wet and sticky splotch landed on his cheek just inches away from his eye, courtesy of his tiny seatmate, and jesse blinked twice before registering what had happened. would've been annoyed had the culprit not been a three-year old (say, for example, a drunk man with similar motor skills to a toddler) and was instead effortlessly charmed. "it's just frosting, don't worry 'bout it." jesse assured the mother with a smile as he swiped the frosting off with his thumb and licked it clean off. "whatcha workin' on, li'l man?" pitch rising slightly as he now addressed the boy, lightly gesturing at their plate. "a caterpillar? oh, no... is it a spaceship?""
⌗ 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝗋 , dining area @ the block party .
" fuckin' hell . . i think i'm about to explode , " had just practically devoured her weight in barbecue , nothing left on the tray that once held her food aside from a few bones and some spare crumbs of the parts of the hotdog buns she couldn't bring herself to finish . two were tucked away in a corner , couldn't have been comfortable enough to devour this much food in front of the public eye , any sense of decorum completely flown from the window anywhere a rack of ribs was involved . she sits back in the metal chair , one hand lifted to pat her full stomach while the other brings a napkin to swipe away any stray drops of barbecue sauce from the corner of her mouth . " we need to go walk around for a bit so i can make room for a sweet treat because i am not leaving here without whatever that fucking peach cobbler looking thing was at the georgia's stand ⸺ and don't give me that shit about not wanting dessert because i know you do . . . and i'm not gonna enjoy it unless you have something too . "
"but i just sat down," jesse complained as he gestured at his own plastic tray of bite-sized shrimp tacos, two out of four already working their way down his digestive tract with the help of some ice cold beer. "c'mon, we'll get dessert later. the cobblers aren't goin' anywhere." already, he had taco #3 deftly handled between his fingers, took a careful side bite so he didn't make a mess like he did with the first one. "so, what's been goin' on with you, huh? indulge me for a sec."
♫ BROOKS & JULIAN'S JAPAN SOUNDTRACK ♫
( featuring . . . )
FRIDAY. touchdown narita airport. all the usual tourist shit. sushi restaurants. public baths. shopping. ending up at a nice upscale bar. meeting new friends. smoke-filled rooms. finding a 24-hour ramen place. SATURDAY. waking up next to a wannabe model. breakfast at a 7-eleven. hitting the vintage shops. drinks at shinjuku. linking up with shady people. getting invited to a party. and another party. and another party. . . SUNDAY. plane leaves in 26 hours. a black eye. a weird tattoo. all your stuff's gone. where's your passport? check your pockets for receipts. the world's worst hangover. world's worst friend. world's worst idea. go back. the undo button does not exist. don't open that can of worms. unknown numbers. empty clubs. strange apartments. what the fuck happened last night?
" you have a switch and a tv and that's it ? god , don't tell me you're one of those guys that has like nothing in his fridge except for a couple of beers and maybe like a half used bottle of ketchup that's been in there for a year , " gaze finds his , as menacing as one could be as they throw a bag riddled with pins and stuffed bag charms over their shoulder . " flo's sounds perfect . . . it's not too far from here , i don't think ⸺ like , we can definitely walk , and that may or may not just be because my car is out of gas , " which might've been true , but that still wouldn't stop her from enjoying a nice walk in the summer sun whenever and wherever she could . " you work in sterling tower , though ? that's so fun , do you like your office ? " hadn't yet ventured too deep into that side of town , keys jingling as they're pulled from her bag , door left open long enough for julian to step out but not wide enough to let milo slip through the crack , quickly locked once the coast was clear . " i don't think i've ever had , like ⸺ an office job , i mean , when i was in college i worked at the front desk for the art history department but i feel like any job you have before you graduate doesn't count for work experience once you hit your thirties , " not that she had that much formal work experience to begin with , anyways .
slow steps lead them down the sidewalk through her neighborhood , stopping at every flower she'd caught blossoming in a nearby bush until they make it down the way to flo's . leather of the worn corner booth squeaks as ollie sits herself down on the cushion , julian's foot gently tapped under the table as she looks over the selection like she isn't planning on ordering the same thing she'd get every time : hamburger , extra fries , and a strawberry milkshake . " I don't know if you've ever been to california but we have this place called in 'n out . . . i used to think that was the best quick service burger i'd ever had but this one put that little thing to shame , " had been one of the first time she'd really come to learn that everything truly was bigger in texas . " wait so , remind me again ⸺ did you grow up here or did you move here when you were , like , old enough to remember it happening ? " ⸺ " believe it or not this place sort of reminds me of where i'm from , maybe it's just the quaintness of it all , makes everything feel so cozy even though it kind of freaks me out when i start thinking a little too much about how everybody really does know everything . . . it's kinda scary . "
“well, i-” choked on a laugh at ollie’s assumption. “i mean, i got other stuff, too. just not, like, a lot, you know? but no, you’re actually wrong… i don’t like beer.” he scoffed, like the gall of her to assume, though a sliver of doubt slipped through his expression, wondering if that made him less of a man for not wanting to knock back some beer cans. but replace year-old bottle of ketchup with year-old crying thaiger teriyaki sriracha and she was right on the money. “yeah… i guess you can say that.” can being the operative word when it came to him working in sterling tower. it was more like an option than something that he needed to do for a living, but he’d never freely admit to that. “but yeah, it’s cool havin’ your own office. it’s like, you’re a real adult now, which is sick.” he tried to imagine ollie in an office, but couldn’t picture her cooped up in the same four walls everyday, bound to the same routine, nine-to-fiveing through life. she was too spontaneous for that. julian liked to think so, anyway. “yeah, for sure…” awkwardly concurred with ollie’s work experience comment, having never worked a real job apart from the one he currently occupied, and it was hardly a job to begin with. ollie had the right idea; it was the perfect day for a walk outside and for such an indoorsy person, even julian had to admire the summer blooms as ollie did and julian couldn’t help but think that she was probably what ‘stop and smell the flowers’ would look like if it embodied a person. eventually, they made it to the diner, catching the establishment off-peak that they managed to snatch the highly coveted corner booth. he fidgeted with the menu, having already decided what he wanted as he waited for ollie’s. “i actually lived in LA for three years,” he said when ollie mentioned california, and gathered from context that that was where she was from. “i went to middle school there. and yeah, ‘course i’ve had in-n-out, are you kidding? you don’t go to california and not get in-n-out. think i’ve seen some branches out in dallas, too, but they’re probably… different.” he will agree that the burgers in texas were miles better than the ones he’d had in california, but he’ll say that about anything in his home state. “so i was born here, grew up here, pretty much have just… been here my whole life except for those three years.” simultaneously the best and worst years of his life. “my dad’s side of the family is from dallas, and that’s where they run their business mostly, but they branched out in willow glen and pretty much established roots here. my mom’s family is from LA, so… i get to spend time there sometimes.” he flagged down a passing waitress and waited for ollie to place her order before he gave his: smoky bacon jalapeño burger, extra crispy bacons, pepper jack cheese instead of american, no pickles, no lettuce, grill the tomatoes, with barbecue sauce on the side; curly fries, extra ketchup, and a chocolate shake.
“well, what about you, huh? you, like, make music for movies and you paint and stuff. isn’t california a better place to do all’at than texas? and, i mean… if you were gonna move here , you might as well pick some artsy place like austin. how’d you end up in weegee?”
" cheaper . " the word launches out of his mouth like a foul-tasting thing he needs to rid himself of . eyes lift off the phone and level onto this punkass child with the same calm he summoned when he'd stare down defenders who'd reach their mark with bad timing , energy thrumming under it . he's daring the kid to say it again .
“ faster is useful . honest is useful . knows where a belt is before he says ' spark plugs ' , that’s real useful. folk in this town got bills . babies too , apparently . they do good work , i pay what they're worth . i ain't gonna stand here hagglin’ down somebody’s labour like i’m tryin’ to win a prize at the fair . ”
lakers fan , second baby , as far as character references go , angelo's heard worse . men've cheered for him under three different banners and still found time to be fools . fatherhood , while sacred is not a mechanic’s certification.
he inhales deep and slow , like he's trying to cover up the impatience he's feeling , then leans one hand against the bronco . " here’s what we gon’ do. you gon’ give me his name . not ‘ a guy ,’ his name . where he works , who taught him , and why he owes your ass a favour that'll make him come runnin' faster than anyone else before supper . i get a whiff of bullshit , " he pauses to give the weight of the word some lift . " i'm callin' somebody grown . y'understand ? ”
angelo went on his little tirade, while julian noticed how his popsicle was withered down to just a few inches in width now, and he scraped it off of the stick in a… forbidden technique so his teeth won’t hurt. he gave quick nods in succession as angelo gave out the list of information he needed to call the guy, though he couldn’t promise he remembered the right order... “his name’s joseph marcus, but people call him ‘jaws’. he’s thirty-eight, maybe thirty-nine—i dunno, might’ve missed his birthday—used to live in austin, he’s now my neighbor at the commons…” or that he won’t add other information altogether. “owes me a favor ‘cause i kind of only just saved his friggin’ marriage, so. when you think about it, i’m basically the reason he even has baby number two.” looked smug as he said it, too, if keeping a man’s indiscretions is something to be proud of. “he owns jaws automotive. you’ve prolly seen it, it’s the one with the big blue shark in front of the checkered flag. dunno who taught him. prolly some guy from austin? maybe master shifu?” caught the smile in his teeth before angelo could smell the bullshit in the water, and immediately reconfigured his face. clearing his throat, “uh, that was a joke. but… he worked on my sister’s jeep one time, and nothin’ bad happened to it, if that means anythin’ to ya,” he reasoned, held his phone out already with jaws’ contact open as he urged angelo, “call him.”
