plot: violet foxglove, age seventeen, is on the cusp of greatness. capitol records has signed her when she was only fifteen and given her complete creative freedom in her career with only one catch: they get to control her image. it is a more than fair trade in her mind and she gets to work right away on the pop album she’s always wanted to make but could never afford to make. everything is going fine until karma carter, age eighteen, crashes into her life. karma is a nepotism baby, who never wants for anything. an internationally known model with her sights are set on violet, and what karma wants, karma gets. with all the scandal and drama, it’s no wonder the two are in the tabloids all the time - but that doesn’t mean any of them know the truth.
elevator pitch: project gold rush is a romance novel set in the early 2000s and takes place over the course of decades as two rich girls learn what really matters in life.
Lights were flashing everywhere, and it was overwhelming. And yet Violet knew better than to show it. She forced a smile, mindful of the cameras searching for her every emotion - hoping to see her be a sore loser or snub someone. Any reason to paint her the villain. She’d seen it happen to others like her, and she wouldn’t let it happen to her. Karma was having more fun: laughing and dancing like there were no cameras on them. She envied that sort of fearless that she could never bring herself to have. Karma’s laughter was burned into her mind; something she could save for the solo trip home when they inevitably have to get into seperate cars. For now, she wrapped around Karma’s arm and kept close.
Violet smiled, mouthing the words to the song the artist on stage was singing - she’d since forgotten who it was. Still, she couldn’t exactly ask who was in stage. Last time she did, someone read her lips to tell she didn’t know who was on the stage and there was entire media circus about it. It was then that Violet learned she must at least pretend to remember everyone’s name or else people would treat it as unforgiveably rude. Not that she was complaining - Capitol Records might have designed the guilded cage for her, but Violet built it and stepped in it willingly. Karma, meanwhile, was either unaware or unwilling to understand.
She pulled her closer, danced closer, and Violet found it harder to remember to breathe. Her eyes were so green, and her short hair brushed against her jawline, framing it. And suddenly, everything around them disappeared into a pitch black void. Violet was only dimly aware of the fact that it was not just the two of them dancing in the dark. If it weren’t for the fact that Karma was wearing a beaded gold dress with a tight fitting skirt, Violet might’ve even forgotten that they were at some award show. Or maybe it would’ve been the tight shoes that were barely broken in that would’ve been the hint that they should be careful. Either way, Violet knew enough that when Karma leaned in for the kiss, she turned her head so Karma only caught her cheek. This would not be a repeat of a previous incident where they were almost caught out.
Karma’s face briefly fell - just long enough for Violet to see. Then she seemed to remember herself, and stepped away. Violet could feel her heart shatter on the spot. This was the way things had to be..
title: vespula
main characters: diana kettering, ophelia copperfield
content warnings: queerphobia, racism (esp antiblack racism in the south), paternal death, guns & violence, misogyny, bug death (specifically wasps are killed)
plot: twenty-five years ago, peter kettering was believed to have died in a car crash. he left behind a grieving widow and a young daughter - diana kettering. in 1997, diana recieves a letter from ophelia copperfield revealing that her father died last week of a heart attack instead and her entire world is shifted. a house and a sizeable amount of money are being contested, and ophelia begs diana to visit it at least once. now diana has found herself embroiled in a bitter estate battle with her father’s mistress and her grandmother while trying to untangle the one mystery that really brought her here: who the hell was her father?
It’d been raining for the past three days. It splattered against the tin roof and windows, making it difficult for Diana to sleep. She wasn’t sure she wanted to sleep regardless. The fact that there was a long list of family who wanted her dead and out of the way made it difficult. Even with Jane out of the house and the locks changed, Diana was having plenty of uneasy nights thinking about how she wasn’t safe. The gun was in the drawer next to her, ready to be fired if she needed. It still didn’t help her feel any safer. She was about to fall asleep when the phone rang, jolting her up out of any sleep she’d have. Diana reached to the phone, answering with a soft, “Hello?”
“I see you got the phone set up in the house,” Ophelia said on the other end, and Diana could see the smirk on her face. “I… was wondering if I could come over. I’ve been at the office all day and… have some stuff to go over with you.”
Diana’s pulse quickened as she considered all the possiblities if Ophelia came over. She’d been doing her best to pretend that there was nothing there, but every now and then… she thought maybe… she put that thought away. It would be dangerous if she got too far ahead with the belief that Ophelia might possibly play for the other team. Sometimes she considered asking her what she thought of The Color Purple… or perhaps if she was a “friend of Dorothy”. She ruminated over the best possible approach. “Uh, yeah,” she found herself saying before she went over all the pros and cons - something she wouldn’t normally do. “Just… hurry over, okay? I…”
“You don’t need to say it,” Ophelia said, cutting Diana off. “See you in a few minutes.”
The line went dead, and a clap of thunder made Diana jump. She glanced outside the window again, breathing in and out slowly. She’d never liked thunderstorms. Ma would scream in panic the entire time, and nothing could soothe her. In turn, Diana would shake under her sheets when she was younger. Even now, she could still hear the blood curldling shrieks from when she was a small child. She got out of bed, padding towards the closet. If Ophelia was going to be here soon, then she needed to get dressed. What does one wear when their crush is coming over at… she glanced at the clock, and did a double take. It was two in the morning.
Was it normal for other girls to go over to someone’s house at two in the morning? She knew that when she was a closeted teenager, she was invited over for sleepovers. Was that what this was comporable to? In that case, any flannel pajama would be acceptable, surely. She was overthinking this. Normal girls didn’t overthink what they wore for a silly sleepover. It was just her dad’s lawyer, who was helping her to keep the house. There was no reason to worry about dressing up. And yet Diana decided to pull back on her jeans and a crop top, as if she was expecting something more.
The knock at the door felt like it came too soon, and she made her way downstairs. She could feel the stares from her father’s side of the family’s portraits staring her down as she made her way to the foyer - as if they knew they’d hate her for merely existing. She was the wrong kind of descedent living in this giant mansion: half black, a woman, and a homosexual. She shook that thought off. Diana didn’t need to think about any of that when she had arguably a scarier problem at hand: finding out if a girl liked girls. If she got it wrong, she risked so much: losing her job, losing the house, and worst of all, losing Ophelia’s friendship. She took a steadying breath before opening the door with a half smirk. “So, what is this stuff you have to go over with me? Don’t tell me Jane’s filed another injunction or whatever.”
“She’s attempting to claim your father was incomptent at the time of filing the will,” Ophelia replied, shivering. She was soaked to the bone; she seemed to have forgotten to grab her rain coat. Her pale blue shirt clung to her skin, outlining every inch of her body. Her roots were starting to show; how long had it been since Ophelia went in to see a stylist properly? She’d been so busy as of late that she seemed to forgetting more and more about the basics of taking care of herself. “I have enough proof to get that thrown out. Your grandmother, meanwhile, is trying to imply your father was given bad advice for giving you anything - arguing he had no way of knowing you even existed. That’s… a little harder, but not impossible for me to fight.”
“So I’m going to get to keep my home?” Diana stepped to the side, shaking her head. “You should get inside - you’re absolutely soaked. Uh, I think there’s a closet full of old clothes. Dunno if it’s in your size but…”
“But you want me to try it on and see if it does?” Ophelia had stepped inside, and immediately started shivering. “It’s… not a bad idea. Show me where you found it.” There was once a point where Ophelia had known this house better than Diana. A beat was skipped, and then Ophelia gasped. “You called this your home! So you’ve officially decided to stay?”
“Yes.”
The simple word stretched out between them; all the possible implications it could possibly have running between them. Neither of them moved at first. Diana was supposed to be leading Ophelia to the room she’d found, and yet neither of them moved. It felt like the thunder outside had moved inside, cackling around them and bringing them closer. If pressed, both of them would say the other moved first when their lips finally connected - like something tying them together. Diana savored the taste of Ophelia’s lips, hungerily devouring them. It was like a dream come true; and then she woke up.
“I’m sorry,” Diana gasped first, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable… if you want to leave -”
Ophelia cut her off, and this time there was a slower build to the kiss; sweet, tender, gentle. “No it’s okay. I feel the same way.”
Day Three
Diana woke up after the storm, and it took a while to process exactly what had happened last night. It was strange enough to process kissing Ophelia - let alone that she’d taken the route of letting her take an unused room. As much as she’d like to push for more, she worried about moving too fast. There were too many unanswered questions about what they would do about this. It’s not like they could get married. And everyone here was religious enough to believe that homosexuals were all going straight to hell. She’d heard people in her life say that AIDs was a sinner’s disease - God’s way of punishing deviants like her, like Ophelia.
Diana could believe that she deserved to be punished, but she had a hard time believing that Ophelia did. What normal person throws themselves into helping a total stranger with an inheritance everyone in the area wants their hands on? Ophelia could’ve decided the easier thing would have been just handing it over to the state and letting them figure it out. Except she went out of her way to track down the person her father wanted the money to go to. The smell of fresh rain was wafting in from outside, and Diana got up to unlatch the window. The soft, cool wind was a nice feeling on her skin, and she gazed out into the city that flickered in the distance.
Nashville had always been so far away in her mind: a place that existed, but might as well have been New York City for all she knew. Her small town was left behind, and she’d embraced the life just on the cusp of the city. She breathed in all the potential that existed here, and considered what it meant for her job she’d left behind. Her time off was coming to an end soon, and she needed to decide if it was worth going back. She had what she’d always dreamed of: freedom. She could pay off her student loan and take care of her family without having to work a job she hated. Ophelia had given her that.
Diana pulled away from the window, opening the closet and considering what it meant that she’d actually bothered to hang her clothes up here. It was, as she told Ophelia last night, her home now. She pulled on a white t shirt and jeans, yanking on her boots and pulling on her gray hoodie. She wanted to go for an early morning walk to clear her head. It seemed, however, that Ophelia had the same idea.
“I wasn't… I wasn’t leaving,” Ophelia said, standing frozen at the back door. “I was just… it’s close to sunrise.”
It was strange every time Ophelia stumbled over her words. From the confident lawyer she first met to the nervous woman whose cheeks were flushed simply when Diana entered the room; it was a hell of a contrast. “Yes, it is,” Diana said, feeling a little dimwitted for repeating the obvious. “I was just going to go for a walk. Would… would you like you to join me?”
Ophelia smiled, holding out her hand. “How about you show me around the property? I see you’ve done something new with the garden.”
Not really, but Diana had no interest in correcting her. Last night was still in the forefront of her mind, and she wanted answers - like what did this mean for them moving forward? Did it mean that they were dating or were they still simply friends? She had no road map for what this would mean, and she didn’t know how to start the questions. “It’s sunrise,” Diana remarked instead. “Dawn of a new day and all that.”
“Yes, it is,” Ophelia said with that knowing smile that Diana once thought she hated. Now, it gave her a thrill, wondering what she could possibly be thinking of. Right now, however, she was certain they might be on the same page. “I believe we could consider this walk a date, if you would like.”
“If I was going to take you on a date, I’d at least like it to be dinner,” Diana countered. The rustling of leaves and the warmth of the rising sun put her at ease. The birds singing their little song in the background reminded her of her childhood, and now she was slowly becoming whole. “I… know that it’s scary to think about going out to dinner together, but…”
“Being both women, no one would look twice,” she said, filling in the blank for her. “I know. It’s just… if anyone sees us cozying up like that, it could give Jane and your grandmother the edge they need to beat us in court. There’s no federal protections for a homosexual, you know.”
Diana paused, considering the options they had as the sun peaked over the horizon. “Sunrise,” she said softly, taking Ophelia’s hand into hers. “It’s a new day. Maybe somehow everything will change and…”
Ophelia laughed, leaning against Diana. Warmth radiated from her like Diana’s favorite jacket: familiar and inviting. “Yeah, everything will change, and the law will change, and homosexuals won’t be despised by society anymore. That’ll be a beautiful day,” she said softly. “For now… we could have dinner here. Hang out here. It’s big enough no one will see us. Until the dawn of the day that we can be together in public.”
Diana pressed a soft, gentle kiss to Ophelia’s forward. “I’m looking forward to that day.”
