#and pls let me know if you want anything changed

[introspectiveextrovertive-blog]

P is in the trenches - I spy some angst in the near future perhaps??? PS pls give feedback xoxo

Part 6 – SLAM

Winter – 2021

“Are you done yet?”

Silence.

"Azzi?"

“No.”

“How much longer?”

“A while.”

“Really?”

“Paige,” Azzi finally looked up from her textbook, “Please.”

Paige huffed and slumped back in her chair, pressing play on film she was assigned to watch. Nika sat across from the pair, her lower face partially covered by her textbook. So obedient, the Croatian thought, Nije se ništa promijenilo, jebiga (Translation: Nothing’s changed, my ass).

The three girls plus Amari sat huddled together in the Homer Library, preparing for exams. As they approached, the library was packed, and within the first hour Paige was already bored. She leaned back in her seat and craned her neck around Azzi to watch through a nearby window as snow came down outside; even being stuck out there was more enticing at the moment.

With a snap her chair connected with the ground again, and she leaned into Azzi. “Going to grab something from the café. You want anything?”

Azzi gave her a sideways glance. She mumbled, “Chocolate chip cookie, please.”

Paige nodded, patting her head. She nodded again at her other friends at the table. “You guys?”

“No, thanks,” Amari and Nika shook their heads, noses deep in their textbooks.

Paige heaved herself up, flicking Azzi's forehead as she did so. She walked unhurriedly through the library to the connected café, hands deep in her pockets. A few people she passed gawked at her, to which she nodded and smiled politely.

Standing in line now, which was wrapping outside of the entrance due to the influx of people that evening, she scrolled mindlessly through her phone. She leaned against a nearby wall and put one hand in her sweatpants pocket, zoning out.

“Azzi Fudd is so bad,” She heard someone say, instantly making her head snap up. Her eyes zeroed in on two guys with their backs turned standing three people ahead of her in line, talking loudly.

“You could pull her dude, for real,” one said. Paige eyed them both, who were definitely shorter than Azzi and looked to weigh about as much as Paige could bench. No, she thought, snorting, you could not pull Azzi. “She’s just a freshman,” he continued.

Paige felt herself run her tongue over her teeth, her pointer finger slightly tapping her thigh.

“Yeah, she’s in my Econ class. I feel like I caught her looking at me a few times,” the other said, sounding overly confident, “Maybe I’ll DM her or something.” Paige couldn’t help the scoff that escaped her mouth, her body feeling tense.

Don’t like that, she thought.

The two boys’ conversation quickly transitioned to a new topic, leaving Paige to dwell in her own thoughts.

Paige wasn’t dense, she knew Azzi was pretty. Prettier than most. Well, actually, Paige hadn’t thought she’d seen someone who was prettier than Azzi since they me–

Paige rubbed the bridge of her nose.

She knew that people thought Azzi was attractive, and that this may serve her at some point entering college. Paige hadn’t thought about the moment she would have to deal with it head-on, like in the way she was now – overhearing people talk about Azzi, having them approach her, someone actually asking her out. She felt unsettled and slightly nauseous.

“Next,” the cashier called, shaking Paige out of her thoughts. She sighed, ordering a chocolate chip cookie the size of her face, knowing Azzi would like its size.

Stalking back to her table where her friends sat, Paige slumped in her seat, looking absolutely perturbed and stared at nothing. Azzi looked her over, eyebrows drawing in concern.

“Are you good?” Azzi nudged her knee with hers. Paige turned her head slowly and gave her a close-lipped smile.

“Mhm.”

Azzi studied her for a moment, deciding to let it go. “Weirdo,” Azzi mumbled, poking Paige in the cheek. Paige let out an exhale, tossing the cookie she bought on top of Azzi’s open textbook, crumbs slightly splaying out from the thin bakery bag it laid in. Azzi tilted her head at her and gave her a look.

“Cookie,” Paige said flatly.

“I see that,” Azzi couldn’t help breath a laugh, “You didn’t get yourself anything?”

“Forgot.”

Azzi hummed. She grabbed a few nearby tissues and promptly split the cookie in two, sliding Paige the bigger half. “For your troubles,” she said.

“My troubles,” Paige repeated, grumbling, stuffing the cookie in her mouth so she couldn’t speak.

Amari and Nika exchanged sidelong glances, unnoticed by the two girls across from them.

_______________________________________

Their Slam Magazine cover had finally been released.

Back in October, Slam had interviewed the pair, letting them know they would be on the cover together. It wasn’t the first time Paige and Azzi had been interviewed together, or their first photoshoot, but it had felt like the beginning of something they couldn’t place in their careers together.

Paige held the magazine in one hand now, her other holding her phone as she facetimed Azzi. She smiled fondly, pointing the camera at the cover, “Look at you trying to mean-mug the camera.”

“Whatever,” Azzi laughed, rolling her eyes with a tint of a blush on her face. Azzi had a year less of celebrity experience than Paige, and she was still adjusting to her name gaining notoriety – Since the Slam issue had been released, she was still grappling with the fact that her follower count had nearly quadrupled, and actual celebrities might know her name. Paige Bueckers didn’t count.

“It’s kind of overwhelming,” Azzi said quietly, holding the camera close to her face. She didn’t have to elaborate, Paige knew what she meant.

“Yeah, it is,” Paige matched her tone, holding her phone as close as they would be if they were physically next to each other. “I got you, though.”

“I know.” And Azzi did know, that without a shadow of a doubt, she could count on Paige for pretty much anything.

“Good.”

Azzi twisted on her stomach, inspecting her own copy of the Slam issue in her hands. Out of the view of the phone camera, her finger hovering over the printed version of Paige’s face. She cleared her throat slightly.

“You looked pretty that day,” she said, trying to sound casual and not like she wanted to crawl inside a hole the second the words left her lips. It’s not even a weird thing to say, she internalized, She’s my best friend.

Paige froze, her jaw clicking. She rubbed at it, saying slowly, “You looked pretty too.” When Azzi thought (hoped) they’d move on to discuss something else, Paige continued, “I just never see you with makeup on like that.”

Azzi stared at her for a moment. She quirked a brow, wordlessly telling Paige to elaborate.

Paige blanched, refusing to make eye contact. She could feel her chest starting to turn warm. “Not that you need it, ‘cause you don’t. You’re, like, pretty without it.”

Azzi’s lips pursed, fighting a smile. “Thanks, P. You too.”

“Well, this is good. Good that we’ve established we’re both attractive.”

"You're so annoying.”

Later on, when they had hung up, Paige found herself continuing to stare at her Slam cover with Azzi. Her mind flashed to that day – seeing Azzi dressed in her UConn uniform, hair done, makeup on. She’d found herself staring and unable to look away, following each of her movements as she spoke, as she laughed, as she rolled her eyes at her. She had felt so proud of her friend, giving her opportunities to speak and show herself off, repeatedly turning back to Azzi to let her have her moment. A quiet part of her told her she really only wanted to hear her speak more because she liked listening to Azzi talk in general. Liked to hear her voice, her laugh.

Paige was beginning to feel hot all over, and she was sure she had caught a fever of sorts. Her cheeks felt warm, her neck felt like it might have hives, and even her fingertips buzzed. She sat up in bed, running a hand through her hair, tugging slightly at her scalp.

“What the fuck,” she whispered to herself.

She found herself in the shower, hoping the action of washing her hair would quiet her thoughts and simmer the less than steady beat of her heart.

Reaching for her conditioner, she blindly grabbed at the shelf, picking up the spare of Azzi’s that she kept for when she slept over. That Paige had bought for her on her own accord. That Paige had bought because Azzi loved the brand, and it made her curls extra soft, and it smelled like her and all the perfume she owned. And then, she had bought a second bottle for Azzi’s dorm in case she ran out. And then, a third bottle in case she ran out at Paige’s apartment.

Paige rubbed a hand down her face roughly, tilting her forehead against her shower’s tiled wall. She gently tapped her forehead against the tile – once, twice, three times.

“Fuck,” she said to no one.

She had a crush on Azzi Fudd.

[ilovegeorgie]

let me into your heart

george harrison x reader

genre: fluff & comfort

warnings: sh ! pls don’t read if youre not comfortable with the topic or struggling, remember that you’re not alone <3

summary: ⤦ having a hard time, but he makes it better

a/n: hii, this one is a little more personal (srry for that). i've been struggling with my mental health for a few years now, and because i didn't know how to deal with all, i used to sh. things haven't been that great lately, so i relapsed a while back. that's the main reason i haven't been able to post that much lately, which i'm sorry for. if you're going through a rough time, remember that you're not alone, and don't be afraid to reach for some help <33

the rain had been tapping against the window for some hours now, soft and steady. the room was dim, the curtains drawn, silence on every corner. she hadn’t left her bed all day, not feeling like doing much of anything really, her thoughts distant.

there was a knock at the door, it was soft.

she didn’t answer.

there was a little pause before the door slowly creaked open.

“love?,” george’s voice asked. she hadn’t seen him in a few days. he’d called and even left some flowers outside her door one night, which she found the next morning, with a small note: “thought this one might make you smile. please call me when you're ready. i love you.”

“i’m coming in,” he said gently, peeking his head through the doorway.

she didn’t move, still curled up in bed and buried in blankets, face pressed to a pillow she hadn’t changed in days.

george stepped in quietly. he didn’t say anything at first, just walked over, slow and soft, and sat on the floor beside her bed like he always used to when she’d study or read.

“i was worried,” he murmured, fingers nervously fidgeting. “did i do something wrong?”

her heart cracked a little at the sound of that.

“you didn’t,” she whispered, voice hoarse from disuse. “it’s not you.”

he nodded, trying to understand and, in a way, he did. he didn’t press her, just stayed there, hands resting in his lap. he looked up at her, eyes warm and full of concern.

“i miss you,” he said after a long moment. “even when you’re right here.”

tears pricked her eyes before she could stop them. she hated that she’d been pushing him away. not on purpose, but it was like her body was protecting itself by keeping everyone else out.

“i’m sorry,” she croaked, throat tight. “i don’t know why i’ve been like this. i don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

george shifted closer, “there’s nothing wrong with you,” he said firmly, “you’re just hurting. and there’s nothing wrong with that, it’s okay.”

when she finally sat up, slowly because of the pain in her limbs, george reached for her immediately. not rushed, not forceful, just open arms. like an invitation.

she let herrself fold into him.

he held her close, her head tucked under his chin, his fingers gently brushing up and down her back. she could feel his heartbeat steady, grounding.

“you don’t have to explain it,” he whispered. “you don’t even have to fix it all today. just let me be here with you, please?”

she nodded against his chest, silent tears slipping down her cheek.

“i’ll stay,” he added. “all night, all week if you want. we don’t have to talk, let me hold you. i can play you something later if you feel up to it. or just sit, whatever you need.”

she pulled back just enough to look up at him, his brown eyes soft and sincere, his thumb brushing gently under her eye to catch a tear.

“i love you,” he said simply, “even on your bad days, especially on your bad days.”

george stayed close. he helped her shift the blankets, tucking them around her legs and gently sitting beside her, as if she was made of porcelain. he didn’t ask questions, didn’t make her speak. he just held her hand loosely, his thumb brushing the back of it.

the rain kept tapping softly at the windows.

then, with a small hop, a little blur of fur appeared at the end of the bed.

“is that your cat?” george asked softly, smiling as the feline trotted over with confidence only cats could have. she gave a small nod.

“she’s lovely,” he murmured, letting the cat sniff his fingers before she promptly settled herself between them, purring loudly like a small engine.

george chuckled. “she’s a fan already.”

she smiled for the first time in what felt like days. a real, tired, soft little smile. and that was enough to make george’s whole chest ache.

“you wanna lie down?” he asked after a while, voice gentle.

she hesitated, but then nodded.

he helped her, carefully easing down beside her on the bed, her cat curling herself into a donut shape at their feet.

george propped himself up on one elbow, his other hand still in yours. she shifted a bit under the covers, the fabric brushing against her arm. she flinched slightly, that’s when george noticed.

he didn’t say anything right away, just shifted his hand slowly, gently tracing over her wrist with the lightest touch. his eyes flicked down, seeing the scars. faded, some newer, some long past. his breath caught just a little, but not in fear. not in judgment.

he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her wrist, so soft it almost didn’t feel real.

then he leaned in close, forehead brushing hers.

“you don’t have to be okay all the time, but please don’t do this,” he continued. “not for me. not for anyone. but i want you to remember something, alright?”

she nodded, tears slipping silently down your cheek.

“you are loved,” george whispered. “you are loved on the hard days, on the quiet days, even when you feel like you don’t deserve it. and i’m not going anywhere.”

she couldn’t stop the tears then, but george didn’t mind. he just gathered her close, wrapping his arms around her and letting her cry quietly into his chest, his hand cradling the back of her head.

“i’m here,” he kept murmuring. “you don’t have to carry it all on your own. i’ve got you.”

eventually, she started to drift, worn out, but warmer somehow, her body relaxing into the softness of the bed, into the steady rhythm of george’s breathing.

george pressed one last kiss to her temple and whispered:

“you are my heart, love. just as you are.”

...

the room was quiet again, not in that heavy kind of way. the world outside could knock and knock but wouldn’t be let in.

george hadn’t let go of her hand once. even as the rain ticked on outside. even as her cat curled tighter at the foot of the bed.

when he saw the scars, he didn’t say anything at first. just saw. just noticed.

then, softly, so gently: “can i hold you properly now?”

she hesitated, but george just gathered her into his arms. not urgently, not pitifully. just full of care.

she buried her face into his chest, and for a while, neither of them spoke.

then she whispered, just barely: “i don’t know how to make it stop. i don’t even know what’s wrong with me.”

george’s arms tightened slightly around her.

“there’s nothing wrong with you,” he said, and there was steel under the softness this time. “you’re hurting, it doesn’t make you broken. it makes you human.”

her fingers clutched at his shirt. her body started to tremble, the weight of everything, the numbness, the shame, the guilt, the exhaustion, everything rushing out of her all at once. she couldn’t stop it. the sobs were thick and hot in her throat, and the tears came harder than she meant to let them.

“i’m so tired, george,” she choked out, “i’m so tired.”

he cupped the back of her head and tucked her closer. “i know, love. i know. let it out, you don’t have to carry this alone anymore.���

her tears soaked through the fabric of his shirt, but he didn’t move. he just kept whispering, over and over: “you’re safe now, i’ve got you.”

when her sobs quieted, not fully gone, but gentled to sniffles and hiccups, george pulled back just enough to see her face. his thumbs brushed her cheeks. his eyes were glistening too.

“you don’t have to hide this from me,” he said. “not your pain, or your scars, not even your sadness. i don’t love some perfect version of you. i love you. and this is part of you.”

he brought her arm up gently, and ran his fingers along the faded lines there.

“these,” he said, voice thick, “are proof that you’ve survived every day you didn’t think you could. you’re still here. and i’m so proud of you for that.”

a fresh wave of emotion hit her chest. but this time, it wasn’t from the loneliness, it came from the impossible weight of being seen, truly seen, and not being abandoned for it.

george leaned in and kissed her forehead, then her temple, then her hand.

“promise me something?” he asked quietly.

she nodded.

“if it ever gets too much again… will you tell me? before you hurt yourself? let me help you?”

“i don’t want to be a burden,” she whispered.

george frowned, “you’re not, you never will be, i want to be here. i’m not here out of pity but because i love you. you matter to me more than anything.”

she didn’t say anything, just leaned into his chest again, her arms around his waist this time, holding him.

the cat stretched at her feet and curled up against her legs. the room smelled like rain and worn cotton and that faint trace of george’s cigarettes, warm, safe and steady.

after a while, he shifted a little to pull the blanket further over both of them. his voice was softer now, sleepy.

“i was thinking… maybe tomorrow, if i could play something for you. or we can just sit by the window, talk about nothing. or maybe i’ll read something to you, what do you think? we’ll take it slow. one soft day at a time.”

she nodded into his chest. “that sounds nice.”

his hand found hers again under the blankets, lacing their fingers together and pressing a final kiss to her head.

[lgcmaylin]

weekends.

"do you think ghosts ask if they believe in humans?"

this question should not come as a surprise with the way maylin almost adored ghosts. every sheet of paper she ever received had a small doodle in the corner with a ghost doing the most random things. there is never a day where she's not thinking about it and at this point, she was planning on decorating a white sheet and wearing it to the company as her second costume.

"we always ask each other if we believe in ghosts, but can you imagine baby ones... hearing the legends of humans and never seeing one for themselves." the most special thing about this brunette was her random brain when it came to this topic. she was the type to speak without thinking the majority of the time, and running into @lgcyuxi when it appeared she was preparing to leave the dance rooms was the perfect place to get stuck with such questions.

"i always listen to podcasts on my walk to the studios and when i'm stretching, so i have a lot on my mind about this. just wanted to pick at someone else's brain."

no pun intended.

[formerfirstson]

starter for @r5dacted

"Okay, here we go," TJ said, sounding a little more excited than someone presenting job offers probably should. Part of his work at the center involved reintegration programs—connecting with organizations that could offer opportunities to those who needed them. "Since you don't have a criminal record, it was easier finding more open spots for you to choose from." He pulled a printed list from a folder and placed it on his desk. "So, options go from stocking and organizing inventory at a distribution center, cleaning offices or public buildings, helping customers or stocking shelves at a store, delivery stuff or helping in construction." As he finished reading, he pushed the paper closer to Koa. "Take a look for yourself. Where do you see working at?"

[euphoriabled]

Lyric Starter Call. || @neverhangd

⸻ Her work on the docks left Bonnie Méabh often in awe of sailors and the like coming and going. One day, she was sure, she'd board a ship and rid herself of the mundane life she led. But seeing as she was actively being robbed, she chuckles, hands up. At least things were getting interesting. ❝ We both know better than to ask stupid questions at a time like this. ❞

[no-one-likes--a-mad-woman]

date: april 4

location: las vegas sun

@naiveete

Though frowned upon by local law enforcement, Alice kept a police scanner on her desk that she covertly listened to throughout the day--that's how she knew where to be and when and she knew that the cops hated to see her on the scene. They saw her as a vulture--and maybe, in their eyes, that was a fair characterization. Naturally, though, there was always more that lay underneath the surface.

This morning, she was sitting at her desk, sipping on her third cup of coffee when she heard noise over the scanner. She figured it was just another classic armed robbery--happened all the time in Vegas. Still, she turned it up just a smidge, just in case. Then, she heard it: We've got a 10-66 at Red Rock Canyon. Alice's eyes lit up. A 10-66 was the code that referred to notifying the medical examiner. That means they had another body.

Grabbing her purse, she looked over at Heather Jones, the young woman that had become something of a protégé with Alice guiding her at the helm. Heather held a lot of promise--and if Alice were being honest, the young journalist reminded her a lot of herself, back when she'd been twenty-five. It wasn't even that long ago and yet, it felt like a lifetime ago. And in a way, it sort of was. "Heather, they just found another body," she said, standing up from her seat and grabbing her sunglasses and slinging her purse over her shoulder. She hoped that by now, Heather was used to Alice dragging her around from crime scene to crime scene. "You ready to go?"

[aliscncooper]

WHO: @travmarshall WHERE: Briar Ridge Elementary

She'd called Evan six times before giving up and staring down at the second number on Sadie's student profile. They'd spent decades apart, created and lived completely separate lives, and yet the mere thought of her high school boyfriend still sent Allie's heart into what felt like a tailspin. However, she told herself none of that mattered as she dialed his number from her desk phone, slowly, carefully, and brought it up to her ear as it rang. This was for Sadie. She could do this for the little girl who'd just been in her office with tears dampening her cheeks. She had to.

So after one hurried pep talk to herself as the line rang and a semi-awkward phone call, Allie waited at her desk for Travis Marshall. The last time she'd seen him had been at Margot's funeral where the moment she'd entered his embrace she'd broken down. Still finding solace within the comfort of his arms despite not being privy to their warmth anymore. Despite not him being hers. Despite it being her own wife's funeral. Being back in his arms had felt like the first gulp of air after she'd been held underwater for too long.

But now? As a knock sounded throughout her office, causing Tucker to chirp happily knowing he was about to be greeted with at least one guest, Allie wasn't sure what she was feeling. A mixture of apprehension, excitement, fear, nostalgia- they all combined in a nauseating way and settled at the bottom of her stomach as she stood. Making her way to the door, she swallowed the emotions and allowed her professional mask to slip into place- this was for Sadie, after all. A meeting between her guidance counselor and her father. Nothing more.

Quickly wiping her hands on her skirt, Allie reached for the handle and twisted, opening the door with a warm, polite smile on her features. "Mr. Marshall." She greeted, head tilting back to look up at him as she stepped aside and gestured for him to enter. "Please, come in."

[gccdwitch]

@vvhimsicals

“Would it kill you to show some appreciation for the things I do for you?” Mary snaps, dragging her fingers through her hair in frustration. Sure, she herself, wasn’t that good at sweet words or grand gesture or most anything that felt too romantic, but there were other ways to show you were thankful for someone’s presence. And she always tried to do as much. “Or acknowledge them, at least. It’s like... sometimes I feel like you seriously take me for granted.”

[viernas]

＊     LEERA RAHL     ﹠     ❛     ∗ 76﹕ sender is caught snooping in receiver’s things  .

          the slightly ajar door to their quarters is what sets them on edge,  tells them that something isn't right before they see exactly what it is.  they're careful to leave everything away and shut and locked where prying eyes cannot see them.  it certainly helps that vierna's posessions are few.  weapons,  some clothing,  miscellaneous trophies from particularly prideful missions,  and less than a handful of generally meaningless trinkets that anyone else would toss or simply look right over.

          the shrike nudges the door open the rest of the way with their foot and steps in swiftly.     "lady rahl,"     they have to force neutrality into their voice,  rid themself of the anger that threatens to steep into their words,     "i was not told to expect you today."     the emperor's fault?  maybe.  they consider it just as likely that @dustwife found her own way here with purpose,  avoiding anyone who may have come in between.  they choose to feign concern instead of drawing their blade.  a commendable display of restraint.     "are you lost?  nothing of your interest is here,  i assure you.  i can have one of my knights escort you to your destination."

[scbrvght]

spillurgvts ♡ liked for a starter based on ( ♡ )

their game was wrong but it didn't change the fact that she liked it — loved it, even — right up until the moments when it started to hurt. when she’d catch sight of them with someone else, their hands brushing too close, their smiles just a little too genuine. that was why she maybe found herself spending suspiciously too much time around the other at these kinds of functions. a whisper, meant only for them, as she shifted closer, her lips almost brushing their ear. " I mean, this is what you wanted, right ? " words hang in the air for just a moment a she blinked, settling backwards again, her tone too sweet to be sincere. " to know that even though I'm theirs, you can have me too ? "

[muse-legion]

closed starter for @etxrnaleclipse

Vito Mazzo had never been one for fairy tales. Born into the gritty back alleys of a crumbling city, his childhood was spent dodging fists and whispers in the night, as his family tangled deeper with the shadows of organized crime. A rough upbringing fostered not only resilience but also an acute intelligence that allowed him to navigate treacherous waters. With every scar etched on his skin—each tattoo telling a story of survival—he became both dangerous and charismatic; a man who knew how to charm when necessary, yet held unspoken threats behind those sharp blue eyes.

Now, Vito found himself standing at the edge of propriety, well-dressed in an expensive suit, meant to obscure overt indicators of his past—a thin veil over ink-heavy arms and wicked memories. As he rolled up to the extravagant estate in his sleek sports car, its engine rumbling subtly beneath layers of sophistication, it was clear this occasion was sinful rather than celebratory: a wedding filled with wealthy targets ripe for manipulation. The moment he stopped the vehicle, Vito’s gaze locked onto a handsome young man, lingering near the entrance—all polished features and innocence strewn carelessly across manicured gardens. With guileful intent wrapping around him like smoke, he cocked his head ever so slightly; here lay opportunity wrapped in charisma—and perhaps just enough naïveté—to keep things interesting tonight. "Sorry, I think you just dropped something." His rough voice echoed through the open window of his car, sunglasses sliding down onto his nose like curtains parting for an anticipated act, once he had the stranger's attention. Intense blue eyes darting at the man and it was clear, Vito didn’t come here simply looking for social pleasantries—this wedding held secrets worth unveiling under moonlit deceptions.

[abrvcadvbra]

There had always been something about her. The way her eyes would immediately scan every room she’d enter, looking for each exit and examining everyone that occupied her space. The way she’d didn’t flinch around the criminal-esque situations that came with dating a Cartel leader’s son. But most importantly, the way she instinctively reached for a holstered gun that wasn’t there. Matias assumed Catarina believed there were no witnesses to that movement, but he saw. He always saw. 

Isai wasn’t exactly a discreet person. Taking advantage of his status in his father’s cartel and in his role as overseeing the drug trafficking portion probably was his favorite hobby. Matias hated it. And honestly, he hated him. The youngest Cardenas child wasn’t the most favorable kid either, and Isai knew this. Matias suspected that was the reason why Isai would act out so much. Whatever the reason, they couldn’t risk full exposure. Leave it to Isai to bring in an undercover cop. 

As the Lieutenant of the Cardenas Cartel, sometimes Matias is given jobs he’d much rather pass along. But watching Catarina was far too juicy to pass up - even though he was supposed to be watching after Isai. Still, Matias stood by in the doorway of yet another useless gathering party with a glass beer bottle in hand. Shoulder leaned against the doorway, he heard familiar footsteps approaching. Her. “I was wondering when you’d show face,” Matias greeted with a playful smirk, keeping his gaze forward toward the wild Cardenas son who decided to hop up on a table, singing along to the song. ”Catching up your bosses on the latest with your sweetheart?” Finally, he peeled his gaze away from the annoying bunch of baboons to send a sarcastic grin her way. // @multxfacies

[lunaetis]

▸▸ [ @starspurn ( aventurine ) || starter call. ]

─「エデン」─  " are you confident you'd always win ? " the thrill of a gamble was one thing, but the glint in those eyes of his when he made his moves was a whole different level of belief altogether. " or perhaps, confident enough to know luck would be on your side ? "

[lgcmaylin]

your world is eternally complete.

i know you probably won't believe me, but i truly am sorry.

maylin has many faults in her approach to life. where she is bold comes the coldness that can follow without her truly realizing it. some would say this dancer is morally gray, neither purely good nor evil. others think she's some kind of robot with no true emotions, broken in the stillness of unwavering expressions. only deep, dark brown eyes staring and casting judgment onto others.

these words never really phased her, she's heard worse growing up.

but there was a friendship, one that she truly held closely to her, that made maylin realize that maybe all these assumptions were true. this so-called friendship had crashed and burned by her fingertips. there was nobody else to blame for her careless words and nonchalant actions. some can get tired of it, and maylin believed that's exactly what happened @lgcsehun. what once was a tender relationship has turned cold.

a simple apology could fix things, coming out and admitting that she went too far. are you really sorry or are you just pretending? is something she has thought countless times, and each time she's shaken that thought away. regardless, every time she saw sehun in the halls of lgc or occupying one of their usual spots, she had the nerve to turn around and go in the other direction. but not today.

"do you have time to chat for a second?" she called out to her old friend, hands deep in the pockets of her hoodie.

[wtfru--imabrat]

date: february 27

location: down the rabbit hole underground mall

@cfstvlla

Though she might not admit it, Romi was the slightest bit relieved when Stella had finally agreed to even see her. Ever since New Year's Eve, it's as if the blonde had been in the doghouse with someone that she actually considered to be her friend--quite a rare occurrence for her. However, just because Stella agreed to see her didn't mean that she wasn't ready to forgive her--and here's the thing: if Romi had legitatmely fucked up--like, for example, relapsed--she (most likely) would just fucking admit it. But no. Instead, Cy had heard one fucking piece of a much bigger, much more important conversation, and let her have it. And yes, she somewhat understood--he thought that she'd double-crossed him. However, if he'd taken even a fucking second to listen, maybe they wouldn't be in this mess.

Now here she was, sitting across from the brunette and she was getting really tired of this whole damn thing. "Like I said, for the millionth fucking time," she snapped, "You don't have the whole story. Cy practically jumped down my throat before I could get the chance to explain the situation--and it's not something that I'm just going to lay out in the middle of the god damn mall for anyone to hear." Letting out a sigh, she tried to remember the way that she and her sister had finally been able to semi-burry the hatchet and be honest with one another. It was worth a shot--right?... "You don't actually think that I would double-cross you--any of you--do you?... Do you really think that low of me?" Perhaps Romi thought that low of herself but she didn't want her only friends to think that of her, too.

[francaoliveira]

🦜ꜰʀᴀɴᴄᴀ ᴏʟɪᴠᴇɪʀᴀ & ᴀʟᴇᴄ ꜰʟʏɴɴ

Franca, admittedly, wasn't much of a drinker. But, after getting into it with Beatriz earlier at the sanctuary in front of the employees and volunteers (and even a few guests), she needed to get away. Texting Phoebe to see if she could meet up with her, she tried to figure out which bar could be the best option. Aurora's was great, but more for when she's in a better mood; The Labyrinth was too flashy and she didn't understand the references too much, nor was she really into fantasy and mythology; Mic Drop!, well, she hates her singing voice (despite being told that it was good), so that's not an option; She will keep avoiding O'Shea's, the place of an awkward blind date that ended horribly a year ago, like the plague; Static was loud, very loud; The Vault wasn't too bad, but she didn't feel like dancing; and then... The Pour House. Fuck, that place kind of scared her, always has. She's rarely, if at all, has come here. But... If she keeps her head down and has a few drinks, maybe she won't be bothered. Fortunately, it didn't seem too busy (or scary) tonight. Sitting at the bar, she'd been about to order a drink when she saw the bartender. "H-Hey," she breathed out. Recognizing her old classmate. "I... didn't know that you work here."

🦥ᴡʜᴏ: @alecflynn

🦥ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ: ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴜʀ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ ; ᴡᴇᴀᴠᴇʀ ʀɪᴅɢᴇ

🦥ᴡʜᴇɴ: ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 16ᴛʜ, 2024