Dear Yuletide Author,

[anialove]

Hello!  Thank you for participating in Yuletide and taking the time to write a story just for me (and y'know, any one else who stumbles upon it).  I just know I'm gonna love what you write me already!  I promise that there is not one fandom that I want more, or any optional detail that must be followed or will make with the wank.  I'm an easy-going

Comments

I wrote Jules fic! My tumblr is andshesdangerous if you want to contact me.

[anonymous]

Dana practically cried when she learned that she would have to take math. She hated math. Had always hated math. By the end of the first class, the blackboard was filled with equations; Dana had doodle-written what the fuck is this shit in a variety of fonts- calligraphy, steampunk robot, people forming the letters with their bodies, bubble letters made from actual bubbles. When she got a D back on the first homework assignment (even for her, that was a low grade,) Dana realized she'd need to get some help.
Jules Louden, who had hair down to her butt and always sat in the front row, seemed like a pretty good choice.
"You look like a chipmunk fairy," is the first thing she says to Dana. "You know, like Disney Fairies? You could be the fairy in charge of looking after the chipmunks! Because you're so cute and innocent and woodland-y. No, wait- you draw, don't you? I remember seeing something in the dorm newsletter- you did the poster for the Rock Club's annual concert. I loved the crosshatching on that- and, oh my gosh. Your scarf is gorgeous. Where did you get it?"
The thing about Jules, Dana realizes, is that all her enthusiasm is utterly genuine.

Jules owns at least one of every Victoria's Secret body lotion (and most of the Bath and Body Works ones.) After a few months, Dana works out most of her patterns: raspberry and sandalwood for early morning classes, red plum and freesia for dates. Strawberries and champage if it's snowing, vanilla and musk if it's hot out, freesia and daisy if she's going to the gym.
"I love the Sweet Pea one," Dana murmurs. She's sitting on Jules's bed, smelling each fragrance in turn.
The next morning, Dana finds a carefully sealed test tube half-full of body lotion outside her door. From Jules <3 is written on a gift tag in bright pink pen.

Jules is as loyal as fuck. One afternoon in their French elective, two girls in the next row aren't even bothering to whisper.
"Dana Polk, though."
"Oh, god, yeah- she's such a slut. Did you know she hooked up with my boyfriend? I mean, she said he didn't tell her that he was dating me, but you know what? I think she just didn't care."
Don't let them see you cry, Dana thinks (desperately.) Never let them see you cry-
Jules slams her pencil case on her desk, marches to the front of the classroom, and launches into a fifteen-minute explanation of how slutshaming hurts all women, not just the Dana Polks of the world.
Afterwards, the two girls who'd been gossiping apologize and offer to buy Dana bagels. Jules talks her into accepting the offer.
"One of the most important lessons in life, Miss Dana," Jules says between bites, "is that you should never turn down an offer of free bagels."

Jules talked about dying her hair blonde for months and months before she decided to actually take the plunge and do it. "I mean, I think it would look amazing with my skin tone, but I don't want to feel like I'm just mindlessly complying with male-ordained standards of traditional beauty, y'know?"
"Well," Dana says, eating another handful of potato chips, "I think if you're really doing it for yourself, it's okay."
Jules smiles brightly. "Thanks, Dana. You're really helpful."

(Later, it's just one decision among many that Dana regrets.)