NIGHTLIGHTS

Your little brother never tells you but he loves you so You said your mother only smiled on her tv show You’re only happy when your sorry head is filled with dope I hope you make it to the day you’re twenty-eight years old

You’re dripping like a saturated sunrise You’re spilling like an overflowing sink You’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece And now i’m tearing through the pages and the ink

Everything is blue His pills, his hands, his jeans And now i’m covered in the colors pull apart at the seams And it’s blue And it’s blue

Everything is grey His hair, his smoke, his dreams And now he’s so devoid of color He don’t know what it means And he’s blue And he’s blue

There is an almost eerie quiet to the park, her clandestine voice seeming to echo off the very idea of existence itself. Coltish legs are folded under her lithe frame, ears closed to the sound of her own vocals by the headphones jammed within them. Ever since moving to Dayton, Georgie has oft found herself warming one park bench or another despite what have previously been frigid temperatures. The air of nature relaxes her, soothing her restless spirit for just long enough to allow her to achieve the much-needed feeling of calmness. So relaxed does she find herself that the shadow of a person coming towards her escapes her normally sharp notice. It isn’t until said shadow crosses over her form that she looks up, startled, hot pink acrylics pulling the music pods out of one ear in question.

She’s looking for inspiration. A couple she’s working with wants to do an outdoor shoot and she’s been wandering the green spaces of Dayton all day looking for the best spot for a little nature made photo shoot. Nothing was calling to her yet, her gaze growing bored with scanning the greenery and falling to her feet as she mozied at a snail’s pace. And then she hears the singing, echoing, clear bell like lilts of music pulling at her insides. Emma follow the sound till she sees it’s source, a girl on a bench, eyes closed, so still it would have been hard to imagine such sound was coming out of her if not for watching her lips move. Emma doesn’t want to creep, she doesn’t want to frighten. She tries to clear her throat, tries to step loudly as possible, but the girl is lost in her song. When she findly startles, Emma’s cheeks turn pink with nervous embarrassment. “Sorry...sorry, I didn’t mean to...that’s a nice song. I’ve never heard it before but your voice is lovely.”

Even three months after moving away from London and back to the US, his mum still found time in her day to call and ask him whether he was thinking of going back home any time soon. Landon didn’t even bother telling her London hadn’t felt like home in a long time and instead just laughed and told her he was having the time of his life in Dayton. He was always careful not to mention the most fun he was having involved sitting on his sofa in front of the tv and stuffing his face with popcorn. His mum didn’t need to know all that. 

Today’s phone call had been the hardest yet. It was a tough day at work and the phone call with his mum only drove home how unhappy he was with his life at the moment. Landon started thinking about taking his mum up on her offer and going back to London. The thought of that was the kick in the ass he needed to remind him why he was actually doing this in the first place. It was time to get out there and try to have some fun. Fun for him ended up being playing football on his own. Way to make friends Landon. It was after giving yet another kick to the ball that he realised he was being watched. He turned to look at the other person and raised his eyebrows. “Why don’t you take a picture? It’ll last longer”, he sassed. “I’ve heard it’s much more fun to join and play football than to watch from a distance. Maybe you should do that.”

The funny thing was that she’d literally been taking a picture when he made that comment. His voice made Emma freeze in place, camera lends glinting against the sun. Wait...not yet...wait...and then she lets her finger hit the shutter. The sun hits him in way that lights his face up, and the sassy smile has his eyes crinkling. She’d been planning on trying to use this as an opportunity to take action photos, test her new camera’s shutter speed out, but god she had a thing for faces. For zooming in and capturing all the layers of humanity in them.

She’s unsure if the invitation is genuine, and not sure she’s at all the best at contact sports, but she finds herself approaching the male, nervous fingers playing with the strap of her camera. “You’re good. I mean you move so fast it’s like you’re a whole football team worth of people.”  She glances at the football then back to him. “If you’re looking for someone to really challenge you I am definitely not that person. I think the last time I held a football was middle school gym class.” Don’t be a negative nancy, her consciousness negged. That’s not how you make friends. “Sorry I’m...I’d like to play...if you don’t mind showing me the ropes.”

Charlie couldn’t hold a laugh as she pursed her lips together as she clapped her hands together, “Op, you said it not me,” she giggled a bit. She truly had been working on not being so uptight around here, but it was probably the most accurate description of everyone in Dayton. She just didn’t understand the whole appeal, but she no longer worked nor had her badge so who was she to try and straighten them out. Charlotte happily took her business card as she looked at it for a few seconds before reaching into her back pocket and giving hers to the blonde. Hearing the other girl’s words, she realized how she had never truly done that until now. “Wise words to live by,” she said with a smile. “I came to realize perhaps a bit too late, but that’s great that you know that now.”

To be fair, Emma didn’t find Dayton unappealing. Her creativity had been lit on fire since she’d arrived, her studio was flooded with patrons. The hunger in her fit into the crevices of this town perfectly. It was her fears that were triggered, outcasts, it was the no drugs no booze no sex thing that made people look at her like she was an alien and ask her why the hell she was here. A question even rehab hadn’t helped her figure out. It felt professional to be exchanging business cards, a fluttering anticipation running through her veins. She hadn’t truly connected with anyone in town yet and maybe this was a turning point. “I don’t believe in too late. I mean there’s late...late exists...and it’s okay to mourn lost time or have regrets. But I don’t believe anything can come to us too late to make a difference in our futures. You have that knowledge now and it makes your today better and your tomorrows better. You should come by my studio sometime. If you’re okay with a little risque background scenery. I shoot a little bit of everything but my specialty is in erotic photography.”

The last thing Quentin expected in response was the words that came from this girls mouth. Was she serious? “The non hetero tree, huh?” he asked with a chuckle.  He picked up another shot and threw it back before placing the glass back onto the table and taking a few steps toward her. “Who said anything about going home? I just wanna dance” he clarified. His tone was quite airy and tranquil  as he leaned it close to her ear, not wanting to yell over the music. “I can teach you if you like? I mean, who comes to a bar and doesn’t wanna dance?” he mused.

She’s not exactly sure she trusts him. A few bad experiences with guys who don’t take no for an answer, don’t hear her when she says she likes girls, have soured her initial response to men in clubs. But the way he leans in to talk in her ear like she’s a person, like he cares about how and where his words land, they tickle at the back of her mind and tell her to try, try to open up a little. “Okay,” she answers, “I mean if there’s a burning need to play dance instructor who am I to deny you, right? But when I step on your feet for the thousandth time don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Evan laughed. “Assuming that it’s actually all burrito wrappers and he didn’t just go to the store and buy a roll of tin foil for four bucks,” he said. He kinda doubted that with this guy. He was an eccentric for sure and probably would only tell a message if it was backed with authenticity. 

Evan nodded his head in agreement. He wasn’t the best at actually analyzing art. Especially when he knew it was all in the eye of the beholder and he didn’t try to force his interpretation on someone else but since she was engaging him he might as well put his two cents in on the piece. “I agree, that and you know like any other sin or whatever creates a road block or in this case a wall between what you’re after. It’s a very interesting take. Especially for something that I could argue I could make myself,” he joked. “But isn’t that all art? Thinking of it and actually doing it is the most important part. In my opinion.” 

“Oh no, don’t put that thought into my head,” Emma laughed, clutching dramatically at her chest. “That takes away from the genuine message of the art. How scandalous.” She was teasing, of course, and not at all any kind of picky about what made something art. A message was a message no matter the medium used.

“It’s such a stark struggle. The more you want something the more you end up building a barrier between you and that want. No wonder we’re all such messes all the time.” She lets out a hum, very much considering buying the piece. “Is it weird that I kind of want it?” she asks, tossing him a shy glance. “I don’t know...it makes me think of bad things and good things at the same time and I kind of like that.” Emma didn’t buy a lot of gallery art pieces, she was a target decor girl, much more obsessed with apartment lighting than table and wall art. “I might go for it.”

Ophelia pushes her hair out of her face as she takes a deep breath as her lips corner into a full smile. She swam to the edge of the pool where the blonde was letting her feet soak in the pool water as her smile faded slightly with a nod. “Hey, no rush,” she said, tilting her head to look up at her. She let her hand reach out of the pool so that she could steady herself. To be fair, Ophelia was a little hammered and a little courage juice really drove her to do things without thinking twice hence the jumping of the fence into the pool with little hesitation. “It’s a start, you’re almost half way there,” she lightly encouraged as she threw her head back to get her hair wet as she smiled with glee. “Aren’t we all?” she asked curiously, tilting her head to the other side as she watched her kick her feet. “The thrill of life,” she murmured under her breath before she chuckled. “Ah, I was doing an event in New York for a client when I had to go back to fix some stupid problem that had come up. Anyway I was on my way out when I heard some girls freaking out because someone was there. I honestly didn’t know. So, I just kind of used my card to get back in the building before I knew it, I was crashing Joe Jonas and Sophie Turner’s engagement party. There were so many people that nobody even questioned a thing, but the best part was that there were giving the best swag bags and an open bar, truly it was a night to not remember. I also got to play beer pong with Posty, it was glorious.” She laughed lightly at the memory. “What about you, stranger? I don’t believe I caught a name or maybe I forgot… I’m really bad with names,” she admitted. 

She has that kind of striking attractiveness that could be utilized in an array of formats. Emma feels a nervous lump form in her throat when the brunette swims closer, trying not to let her eyes linger on the droplets of moisture clinging to her collarbone, or how fucking phenomenal her breasts looked in that bra. Jesus fucking christ, she’d thought she’d gotten over the initial hump of abstinence making her brain get over the top horny, but moving to Dayton had caused a secondary resurgence. Too many attractive girls. Too many attractive confident girls. Emma’s eyes start to go wide as the girl ventures off into a story that gets more incredible than anticipated. “You crashed Joe Jonas and Sophie Turner’s engagement party. Jesus. I think you might be my new hero,” she huffed out. “I could never. The closest I could even come to comparing is that I got offered a chance to be the photographer for a photoshoot for Priyanka Chopra....but...I had to pass...for health reasons.” She trailed off, her face darkening as she recalled that health reasons were being found od’d on the bathroom floor, her life falling to pieces so swiftly it was almost like she’d never had one to begin with. The laughter pulls her back out of the darkness and she smiles. “Emma. I’m Emma. It’s okay, I’m bad with names too. Unless I take your picture, then I remember you forever.” She feels the itch to move, to do something with her restless lonely limbs, and so she pulls her feet out of the water and stands up so she can work her jeans down. Her entrance into the pool is less gracefully seductive than her new friends, a chaotic cannonball that splashes and has her gasping for air when she comes back up. “Fuck, it’s colder than I expected.”

It had been months since the last time Quentin entered the familiar bar downtown. Church had always been like a second home to him before he up and left and now that he was back, he found himself falling into the same old routine. How could he stay away though? They always played the best music, served the best drinks, and all of his friends spent the better part of their days drinking there. As he sat down in his usual booth in the back, he waved the bartender over to order his usual round of shots. Not much had changed but he felt like he had missed out on so much. Downing the shots one by one as if they were water, he let the alcohol burn into his bloodstream. “Fuck.. I wanna dance. You wanna dance?” he asked. Looking over to the person sitting closest to him and downing his last shot before offering them a friendly smile.

The thing that Emma loved the most about Dayton was that it’s nightlife and its daylight bled together into one. She had come far enough in her management of her nyctophobia that she could and did regularly push herself to exist in social nighttime scenarios. But it was nice that it wasn’t her only option. That she didn’t have to miss out on every bar night, ever cool club, because she didn’t always have the spoon to make her mentality metal enough for a past sunset outing. She felt like everyone else, guzzling her virgin pina coloda and enjoying the music. At the query she gave a nervous shrug. She’d watched him down enough shots for an army and the last time she’d danced with a drunk person they’d thrown up all over her. “I’m not a fantastic dancer,” she warned. “I kinda just shuffle awkwardly and don’t know what to do with my hands so they kinda just hang out like limp noodles. If you’re looking for a dance partner you might be able to take home I”m afraid you’re barking up the non hetero tree with me.”

Evan knew the artist. Well, knew him as much as he knew all of his regulars at the burrito shop he worked at. While he worked on his Magma Potato with extra nacho cheese sauce today he’d been invited to the artist’s showing down at the gallery tonight and having nothing better to do Evan decided to swing by if only just to kill time and get him central to downtown for the night. He’d smoked a j on his walk down as perfectly chill enough to enjoy just staring at some walls for a while and he found himself doing precisely that. He was particularly drawn to a piece called “Glutton” that consisted of burrito tinfoil being pounded into little bricks to form and put into a gaudy frame. 

He noticed a girl in his peripheral vision also stop to admire the piece. “You know the fact he’s only asking for $125 for this one. That’s easily over 400 dollars worth of burrito wrappers, I would know I probably rolled most of them myself,” he explained. He wasn’t in the market for buying something like this but he might be able to convince his boss to purchase it for the shop. 

@emmacarterrp​

In terms of aptitude, Emma had only ever had artistic flair when it came to the camera. She envied people who could carry their creativity through multiple mediums at the same time; painting one day, sculpting the next, a little piano to top it all off. For her capturing the life she was too afraid to interact with was her only medium. She wasn’t good at making something out of nothing, only capturing what was already there at an outside angle. It made her love art though, all kinds through all mediums. For some reason she hadn’t expected Dayton to have such a dedicated art culture within it. Perhaps that was because the sex and the drugs and the vices were what was most advertised, what people talked about with an edge to their tone. The showing this evening knocked her socks off, made her rethink all her previous expectations as she paused to observe a piece called Glutton.

What apt word to explore in a town like this. Her head turns at the voice, and she laughs at his words. “Only $125, hell he’s underselling himself. I thought the goal was to at least make back the cost of the resources you used to make it. Still...it’s a really cool piece. I like the intricacy of it, the tediousness. Gluttony takes a lot of effort to feed and I think a lot of people in this town can relate to that.”

Ophelia always had a way of getting in trouble, especially when she was more than tipsy. She knew damn well that she shouldn’t have been trespassing, but the idea of someone telling her not to do something, just made her want to do it even more. As the blonde spilled through her lips that she couldn’t and made very valid reasons as to why she couldn’t, Ophelia had already slipped most of her clothes off. She let her eyes grow wide at the idea of a security camera before shrugging her shoulders “Well, if they do have security camera’s whoever’s watching is about to have one hell of a show,” she said with a wicked smile on her face. Phe was so sure that the other was just going to stand on the other side of the fence, but next thing she knows the other is doing their best to climb over the fence. “That’s the spirit,” she said with a bright smile on her face. Happy that she wasn’t about to do this alone. Ophelia giggled softly at her question as she shrugged her shoulders, “Sometimes,” she admitted. “It somehow always makes for the best stories,” she said with a wink before diving into the pool. The cold water against her skin was a wake up call as she swam back up to the surf, she smiled as she looked at the other. “Are you going to join me?” she said, swimming happily. 

There’s that instant worrisome thought. What bra am i wearing today? What panties? Are they suitable for random middle of the day skinny dipping or am I going to look like an idiot? This is the kind of stuff Emma normally did when she was high, and there’s a voice in the back of her head screaming that this is a bad idea. Her feet touch ground on the other side of the fence and she watches the girl jump in the water fearlessly, jealousy staining her features for a moment. “I’m...yes...probably...but I’m...” Emma trails off as she rolls her jeans up to her knees and comes to sit at the pools edge, dangling her feet in the cool water. “I have to work my way up to these things.” Her nerves chatter in the back of her head but then there’s another thought perculating too. A wondering if she can get the same kind of thrills out of activities sober that she used to enjoy when high. Inebriation used to be her only way from out behind the camera, the thing that made her feel present. But the cold water isn’t doing a bad job right now as she kicks her feet a little and slowly starts to peel off her shirt. “And are you a collector of stories?” she wondered aloud, tossing her shirt to her right. “If so you’ll have to tell me your favorite.”

A bright smile appeared on Charlie’s face, feeling relief through her body as the other held up a camera as well. She let out a nervous chuckle as she nodded her head in affirmation. “Exactly, but recently it’s been getting me into more trouble than I liked to admit.” She looked down at her camera that was hanging from her neck as she smiled at the girl’s reaction. “Thanks, it was a Christmas present to myself. I saw it and couldn’t help myself. Obviously, you’ve got great taste in cameras,” she said pointing to hers. “Is it a hobby or do you work in the field?” she asked curiously. 

“Mmm that’s probably cause everyone here is usually high and paranoid as fuck,” Emma mused with a shake of her head. When her own camera was pointed out she smiled, pulling a business card out of her pocket and offering it to the girl. “I have a studio. I have my moments were I still take pics to fulfill the hobby side of myself. I think that’s important if you’re gonna make a living out of something you love. To have your business side but still nourish your just for you side, ya know?”

Why you gonna come over and use my Wi-FI? It’s not super fast.

Emsashutterbug20

@realbilliecooper​

It was the kind of day where the rain came down like a mist more than in actual drops, drops that found a way to permeate your clothes and skin whether you had an umbrella or not. Normally on a day like this, Emma would stay hidden away under the lights of her apartment, but her coffee pot had broken and even at her worse she couldn’t tolerate the instant stuff. So off she meandered through the seeping cold wetness to the coffee shop. It took 3 large warm lattes to combat the way she felt like a drowned rat, her fingers finally warming up as she settled against her laptop to edit some photos. In a coffee shop in any other part of the world she’d never dare to work on erotic photos in public, but in Dayton there was little to fear. In fact her accompaniment was the sound of a couple making loud passionate love in the bathroom. They appeared to be taking a breather, quiet for the past five minutes but still resolutely locked inside. A factor she pointed out as someone moved into her periphery looking like they were headed to the door. “I’d use the bathroom in the record store next door if you really need one,” she offered. “That one has been occupied by a super loud pairing for the past twenty minutes.” On cue the sound of bare flesh banging against the door and lewd cries of “fuck harder, harder baby” start filtering out again. “You would think most of the establishments here would have one bathroom for fuckery and one for people who actually have to go to the damn bathroom.”

Ophelia had never been single on Valentine’s day since she was in middle school. It’s what she deserved for trying to be a good person and going to butt fuck nowhere California to save a brother that didn’t even want to be saved. To say the least she was not taking it well, but Phe was more than determine to still have a good time, that she knew how to do. She raced to the nearest bar and with the help of about three and a half long island’s she was feeling it and the random stranger that had offered her a walk home was now getting reeled into her ‘best idea ever’ which she always seemed to have when she was tipsy. She raced to jump the fence of the community pool that was obviously closed. She thanked those long island’s because she wasn’t to sure how she managed to get over the fence, but she did. “You’d be lying if you didn’t admit getting into that that pool is a genius idea!” She couldn’t help but giggle as she stood tall proudly kicking off her shoes. She slipped off her top, her fingers working the button of her jeans as they slipped off shortly after. “I dare you to come in with me,” she smiled at the other person at the other side of the fence, her bright blue eyes locked to the person who’s name she had already forgotten as she walked backwards towards the pool. 

She’d been standing on the corner of this street for almost an hour, fiddling with her phone in between longing glances towards the liquor store across the street. God she’d woken up so thirsty today, feeling like she wanted to take a deep dive into the rush of throwing away every day of progress she’d made. Bad dreams had kept her awake all night, bad dreams had left her with the bad taste of doubt in her mouth, had her wondering if none of it mattered, all her effort and good intentions. Emma is so close, her right foot lifts from the paved sidewalk and she’s going to do it, going to step into the street and head for the liquor store. But then comes a distraction in the form of a girl hopping the fence to the community pool behind her. The very closed community pool. Jaw dropped, she turns and takes a step, her fingers looping against the chain link fence. “Dunno about that,” she called back to the brunette. “Pretty sure they have a security camera. What if the pool hasn’t been cleaned, what if it’s all gross?” Her nose wrinkles as the brunette dares her to come in. But shit she’s hot...the shirt comes off, the jeans slip off, and suddenly Emma feels very hot and very nervous. Next thing she knows she’s finding footholes in the fence with her toes, carefully and with less athleticism than the other woman had displayed, she eventually found herself on the other side. “Do you do this often? Trespassing and all that?”

Charlotte had been getting more and more into photography, as it was her new cover job, at least until she could go back to her real job. She had been walking down the street when she saw a picture-perfect moment without the person realizing it. She figured she could sneak in a few pictures without getting caught. Charlie smiled as she picked up her camera and started snapping a couple pictures before she realized that the person was looking right at her. “I-Sorry,” she said, slowly lowering her camera from her face.

Emma couldn’t help but smile. She’d been caught in the same position so many times before. She held up the camera that had been invisibly resting against her left side. “It’s okay...I get it,” she answered. “Hazard of the trade when it feels like everything you see is art to be captured.”  Her eyes take in the camera, lips forming an o as she lets out a whistle. “That’s a really nice model, I like the retro feel.”