#stella tenant

[lovefrenchisbetter]

[fashionbooksmilano]

'2000-1' la maison martin margiela

collection martin margiela autumn winter 1998 1999

by mark borthwick

with thank to helen filliers yorinda gersina stella tennant

Grafiche Zanini, Bologna Septembre 1998, 110 pages, 16 x 24 cm, Softcover,ISBN 2-9512460-0-5

euro 220,00

email if you want to buy booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

The presentation in Paris of Margiela's Autumn/Winter 1998/1999 collection featured collaborations with stylist Jane How, writer Sydney Rose, and Mark Borthwick who contributed a video featuring interactions between three women who are wearing items from the collection. This book contains photographs that were made during the production of the film.

Mark Borthwick has re-invigorated contemporary fashion photography, and successfully merged it with art, video and design. In this book, he has created a sparse and lyrically minimal document in which he freely interprets the Fall/Winter 1998/99 fashion collection of Martin Margiela -- whom Valerie Steele has called "one of the most important designers ever." Margiela's understated clothes are the perfect compliment to Borthwick's photographic sensibility, and this book represents yet another pioneering project for a photographer who has already worked with major designers, choreographers and magazines like I-D, Interview, Italian Vogue, and Purple Fashion.

24/05/23

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[fawnsite]

[alinaastarr]

[eatmythoughts]

Isabelle Adjani as Stella in The Tenant (1976)

Dir. Roman Polanski

[tulliok]

Pre-Redemption Starlight

My take on Starlight’s first appearance in the series. I’ve been having a lot of fun translating her arc into the 1920s au. I named her Stella Luciani and her magical title is the “Witch of Wine”

The current idea is that she’s an evil innkeeper and a powerful witch that manipulates her tenants to help operate her underground speakeasy. After her operation is eventually shattered, she meets Trixie and joins her traveling show as an assistant and fugitive.

I designed her with both an equal sign and wine motif. The first being a nod to the cutie mark village in the show, and wine being a new element I added to her character. I tried incorporating as many = designs as possible in her costume.

[chaifootsteps]

saw someone point out something I should have realized before

stans keep excusing Stolas ignoring Blitzo's boundaries/protests as him having 'poor social skills'

but why does he have poor social skills? how is it even possible? he's a royal demon with legions at his disposal and a palace full of guards & servants

he doesn't like parties but he still goes to them and presumably his royal duties (what little there are of them) consist mostly of going places and talking to people

how is it possible he has bad social skills when a key tenant of being royal usually involves training specifically around interacting with other people??

this is probably, like most things, the result of Viv's lousy worldbuilding. we're two seasons deep and it's impossible to tell what being a Goetia actually means on the day to day.

the impression the show gives is that Stolas grew up alone (for no reason, how does this benefit the Goetia family to isolate one of their princes this much?) and would spend most days alone were it not for his daughter still living with him. what his routine even is day to day is unclear, he doesn't seem to have any consistent duties that take up his time so he just lounges around reading or doing basically what he feels like

the most we ever get to see of his duties is the harvest moon festival (which is only once a year) and him doing some kind of paperwork in the Look my way MV.

Viv probably wanted to make him look lonely and friendless but she's just made him look like a lazy layabout who's bad with people for no real reason and doesn't bother using his power or opportunities to improve himself even though there's nothing stopping him (seriously, he whines about being alone but can't bring himself to leave the house and meet people? even when the show is totally inconsistent about whether his being royalty even matters for interacting with others from episode to episode? and if it's as a result of his depression which he's medicating for, how did he keep finding the energy and motivation to harass Blitz into sleeping with him?)

I know I bring him up more than I should, but this is yet another point in Instagram Stolas's corner. The guy communicated like you'd expect a royal to have been meticulously trained to communicate, always polite and very precise. Series Stolas's day job, from what we've seen, has consisted of paperwork, attending the Harvest Moon Festival, and insulting his subjects.

A better writer would explore the fact that Stolas, despite thinking of himself as kind and lonely and tragically friendless, drives away potential friends with his callousness and insensitivity towards their feelings...and Stella, despite being an deeply embittered person, attends parties and tea parties, and is always shown to be surrounded by friends.

[instructionsnotincluded]

True North

Lovely banner by @lady-cheeky

Deleted Scene II | Frances' Letter To Her Mother

As referenced in True North

July 7th, 1943

Dear Mom, 

Things are so different here in England! I know we spoke of how different we thought they might be, but it’s unlike anything we imagined. The people are wonderful, though. There’s a definite sense of unity and drive in the air. They’ve seen so much and been through so much, and because of that they will not stop until we are victorious and this war is over. 

I spent a week getting acquainted with everyone and going through some basic instruction after arriving, we even stopped off to see a play in London before we received our first assignments! We saw The Lisbon Story at the London Hippodrome, and it was spectacular. Who would’ve thought love and espionage went so well together! I’ve found myself spending my first rotation at RAF (Royal Air Force) Ratcliffe. It’s located in a village by the name of Ratcliffe on the Wreake (which I’ve come to learn is a river) and is a little over one-hundred miles north of London. It’s a beautiful area and there’s a gorgeous castle nearby. Yes, you read that right, a castle! I know Bucky moaned and whined about the weather in all of his letters, but so far it’s been lovely. A bit reminiscent of home, if I’m being honest, and that was certainly a welcomed feeling. I expected to be homesick, but I didn’t expect it to hit me so terribly so quickly. 

I hope everyone is well back in Wisconsin! Please keep me updated on Mrs. Walton’s saga with her tenants, I’m just on the edge of my chair waiting to hear what the latest is with them. I’ll be at Ratcliffe for a bit longer, probably until the end of August before I receive my next rotation, so you can write me here. I haven’t seen John yet—but I’ll do you one better. I’ve met his girl! She’s a pilot here at RAF Ratcliffe! Can you believe it? What are the odds? Grandfather would certainly tell us to go down to the track with that luck!

She’s beautiful, mom. You’ll die. She came into the infirmary with an injury and I helped treat her before we started talking and realized who we had in common. Her name’s Stella. Stella Frank. And she’s an ATA (Air Transport Auxiliary) Pilot, and a captain at that! From what I’ve heard from her peers, she’s a rather talented pilot as well, which is how she and John met. I haven’t seen them together, and I haven’t spoken to John yet, but I will write to you the moment I do. From the little I’ve been around her, she’s quiet at first, but opens up pretty quickly. She’s not nearly as exuberant as John, which is good for us all, but I can see why she caught his eye. I’m very much looking forward to getting to know her more and from what her friend has told me, they are rather smitten with each other!  I think you may be able to hear wedding bells across the sea!

I hope you’re doing well and keeping your spirits up. Rest easy know that two of your children are not only in the same country, but only a few hundred miles from one another! Send Eileen my love and I’ll write to you soon. 

Love, 

Fran

[introspect-la]

STELLA TENANT FOR YOHJI YAMAMOTO FW96

[blueshistorysims]

June 1922, Henford-on-Bagley, England

Dearest sister, 

I know you are tired of my constant complaining… but there are few people I can complain to, and unfortunately for you, you are one of them. I had never realized there was so much to do as a peer. I can sense resentment from the tenants of the Feldsbury lands. Parliament is so boring, and most of them don’t like me, considering I one, married a colored woman, and two, I am part of the Labour Party. Not that I care, but I am snubbed often at places where my title is of great prestige. To quote one of the earls, I am ‘a disgrace to the memory of the late Duke and should be ashamed as such.’ What a pity.

Stella is in London again if you and Francesca wish to invite her to dinner, or at least stop by and visit. And before you say wasn’t she in London two weeks ago, well, she is there again. I rarely see her. We were on track to fix everything, and then the bloody old man had to croak. Now we are strangers again in a life neither of us chose. 

We have finally been invited by our neighbors for dinner on Friday, so she will be returning for that. It’s bloody Mungroves. I don’t think I ever told you, but I was friends with their son in boarding school and I spent a summer there.

Joel Mungrove was… let’s just say the first person I developed feelings of a non-platonic nature for. Turned out he was a right cunt, for lack of better words. But the hilarious part of it all, is that neither Sir Francis Mungrove nor Lady Mungrove recognize me. I am delighted to embarrass them during dinner. 

Your brother, Byron

“Lovely house,” Stella muttered.

“The first girl I ever kissed was their daughter,” he mumbled under his breath.

She smirked. “Anything else?”

“Shhh,” he hissed, looking around. “...I felt her up as she… you know…” he wavered off, making a motion with his hand.

Stella laughed, and he smiled. He hadn’t seen her laugh in a while.  

“The Duke and Duchess of Feldsbury,” the butler announced as the Mungroves entered the main hall. 

“It is an honor to finally have you for dinner,” Lady Mungrove said, smiling kindly. 

She and her husband looked so much older than the last time he’d seen them, over thirteen years ago. He smiled politely and gestured to his wife, whom he noted Sir Francis was not making eye contact with.

“My wife is quite eager to see your dining room.”

Stella nodded. While she loathed it, she played of Duchess well. “The Duke has told me how beautiful it is.”

Sir Francis cocked a brow. “You seen it before?”

“Yes, I dinned here when I was a boy.” He grinned like a shark.

“It really is you!” A voice exclaimed from the stairwell, and there he saw Wilhelmina coming down with a man he thought looked familiar. “You’ve gotten so tall. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I’d read that you were Feldsbury's heir.”

He laughed. “I could say the same to you,” he greeted as she kissed his cheek.

Her parents looked bewildered. 

Wilhelmina gestured to the man next to her. “I’m sorry. This is my husband Jack Porter.”

“The poet?”

He nodded. “Yes, Duke.”

Byron was impressed. Stella looked much more interested than she had moments prior. 

“You know our daughter?” Lady Mungrove stammered.

Wilhelmina stared at her mother. “Mother, his grace was Joel’s friend he brought here in the summer of 1909.”

Color flooded the cheeks of the couple as Stella bit her lip to hide a smirk. 

During dinner, Byron learned that Joel was dead, having perished in the war. Sir Francis and Lady Mungrove were mostly quiet during the affair, likely from the embarrassment of earlier. Seeing them so uneasy made his evening entirely worth it. 

Afterward, he and Wilhelmina went to the balcony, reminding him of the many conversations they’d had in their youth. Jack was keen to show Stella the house, asking questions about the jazz scene in Harlem. 

“You know,” she began, “When I read that you married your wife and you were heir to the Duke of Feldsbury, I laughed. Of course the dukedom was our neighbor.”

“I wasn’t even aware back then. Are you happy with Mr. Porter?”

“Yes. He knows the real London social scene, and he makes me happy. I love him dearly. What of you and the duchess?”

He frowned. “The title has put a tremendous strain on marriage if I will be truthful. The only person who hates it more than I is her. I rarely see her.” He sighed.  “I confess, Wilhelmina, I don’t think our relationship will thrive if I do not leave Henford.”

She sat next to him. “I am sorry, Byron.”

“I didn’t tell her I was heir to a dukedom until after we eloped. She resents me for that. I don’t blame her.”

“Well, Jack and I live in London if she is in ever need of friends.”

“What she wants is to be around people like her, in a community where she doesn’t have to be someone else. That community is in New York.”

Wilhelmina nodded. “...My parents weren’t truthful about Joel’s death.”

“What?”

“I think you should know the truth. He did die during the war years, but not on the battlefield. He was severely injured and disfigured after a mustard gas attack. My mother couldn’t even look at him unless he was in bandages or wore a mask. It was hard to look at him. He couldn’t take it, so he killed himself.”

Byron sat there quietly. “My God.”

[hellaverseapocalypse]

And The Whirlwind is in the Tree

Striker's Story - A Helluva AU

Pairing: Striker and OC Amelda(adoptive father/daughter relationship) Warnings: angst, whump, hurt-comfort, injury, blood, harsh language, death, gore, killing in self-defense, graphic depictions of violence. Summary: As the war progresses, it mangles the societal infrastructure of Hell, allowing sinners to venture to rings beyond Pride while simultaneously bringing the fight with them. In this, Striker instills the help of a couple new members of their group when he makes note they are in dire need of assistance in numbers.

Notes from the authors: Hello Fellow Readers, due to unforeseen circumstances, the next chapters will be delayed. Candy and I have decided to post in October, which is in time for the next Helluva Boss episode. Thank you for your cooperation.

 Read on ao3 - 700 words

The third year of the angel invasion, Striker developed a routine.

He was mostly on lookout duty, he honestly preferred the quiet solitude. Fewer angels were invading, they must be keeping them at bay in pride.

They already had a system where they go and hide whenever they see more than 4 angels in the sky.

Then other news came in.

Lust was getting a lot of new tenants.

The angels constantly attacking messed with the natural magic around Hell, making a lot of the defensive restrictions weaker.

So now, sinners could go to the other rings.

A lot of them migrated to Lust or Gluttony, seeing it was one of the few rings that were still intact. One of the most famous sinners was Angel Dust, the porn star. He and Fizz seemed to be friendly. He also saw two of his old bounty hunting buddies, Colt and Murphy.

Both were sinners that worked exclusively in pride. Colt was an armadillo sinner whose shell was hard as a rock and Murphy was a bear sinner whose monstrous strength has saved his hide and theirs more times than he can count.

They greeted him with hearty pats on the back, asking what the Hell happened to his eye and who the little owlet was that’s currently clinging around his leg.

Speaking of Amelda, she finally started talking. But she only spoke to him, Millie and Oliver.

She was quiet, he strained to hear her at first, but now she is a chatterbox, talking constantly and asking a lot of questions. She still follows him everywhere like a puppy, so he just bit the bullet and lets her, making sure she stays safe.

There was a lot to learn to take care of a Goetia hybrid.

Like the owl things.

He nearly had a heart attack when she hacked up a pellet.

He grabbed her and ran over to Stolas (something happened that resulted in Stella's death and Via had to stay with them), the only owl demon he knew.

He yelled out what was wrong with her, that she was hacking up her own bones or something. The Goetia prince blinked at him and then started to laugh, saying she only regurgitated what she couldn't digest.

He then saw Amelda grabbing a rat and ate it whole.

He has not lived down that incident; everyone thought it was cute how he got all flustered over her.

He nearly grinds his teeth to dust when he had to ask Stolas for advice on how to properly take care of Amelda, preening her feathers and what not.

He didn't think the prince would help, especially after their last encounter, but Stolas saw how Amelda clung to Striker and after some convincing from Blitz, he taught him to properly take care of her.

Those lessons needed to go to the backseat because they had other problems.

He heard that the overlord Vees were in Gluttony, taking supplies and making a lot of Hellhounds migrate to Lust.

A Hellhound named Tex was the one keeping Gluttony in check, but when the Vees and the Imp Mafia started invading, along with the angels; they were losing ground. He begged Blitz and Fizz for assistance, saying if they helped him get some of the hounds, they would share what supplies they had with them.

Striker honestly wouldn't have done anything, but Blitz was friends with Tex and Beelzebub herself (how the hell was he friends with her?!) and led a raid to get them out.

The raid was brutal.

Funny enough, they don't meet the Vees or the Dons, just loads of loan sharks and followers.

They managed to get away on a train with whatever supplies they could carry and rode out. It was almost down by the letter because Vox was hacking into everything. Luckily, a smart hellhound named Juno hacked right back at him, putting up firewall after firewall to deter Vox, finally letting them get away on the train.

Gluttony was in shambles and it was only a matter of time before they came to Lust.

Striker sat on his perch, his tail rattling as it rained in Lust again, Amelda sleeping by his side. He could feel it in the air. 

A big storm was heading their way.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @captxin-rex @gospelofme @fangirl-goes-nova @romanoffs-gf @sstarwarsss @r2d2staser @nahoney22 @ashotofspotchka @art-of-the-twistedstitcher @only-a-simp-deals-in-absolutes @justalittletomato @twiggoblin @xsherryberryx @kriffclone @deewithani @tinker-tech @megafrost4 @minx067 @freesia-writes @boontaeveboba @ahoeformando @arctrooper69 @taz-107 @lizzowinkyface @chad-something @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @merkitty49 @nonsenseandm3mes @id-rather-be-a-druid @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @succulent-momma @virtualexpertanchor @padawancat97 @amorfista @storm89 @hurtbywhisperedmuses @misogirl828 @seriowan @plushymiku-blog @the-dathomirian-jedi @ladykatakuri @mysticalgalaxysalad @talesfrommedinastation @dukeoftheblackstar @littlecrowtime

[les-portes-du-sud]

Plume est rouge

par Stella

Plume prend des chemins, Des détours connus et incertains, De longs et, parfois moins, Malmenée au besoin. En glissant de graves vérités, Sur de géants morceaux de papier, Elle emprunte de larges virages, hagarde, En subissant cette main bavarde. Si elle taille d'une allure tenue, Une ligne horizontale voulue. Plume est digne en tenant bon, Penchée sur le flot rapide du pardon. Conservant en hymne, Son éreintante foison, En strophe et en rimes Elle libère le poète de ces démons. Au bout de chaque bras, Plume s'est résignée à son trépas, Elle oscille, la tête vers le bas, En signe de croix.

[pinesfamilyguidetotheweird]

Okay...

Deep breath in...and...

[PROCEEDS SCREAMING INTO THE VOID!!!!]

I had...an idea...I fully intended to separate Project 618 from Fragmented...

But a recent idea I had is now bringing back the Plantars into the fold...

And that idea was this.

So, basically, realizing that Dipper and Mabel feel more at home in Gravity Falls, their parents make the big decision to move to Roadkill County. Morgan (name I chose for the twins' dad) has a job in Stella Heights, so they needed a place close.

I originally had the Pines living in an apartment complex...but then...I was reminded of the Pink Palace from Coraline and had a thought.

Just outside the city of Stella Heights, there is a mansion that once belonged to the founder of Stella Heights. It was left abandoned until it was converted into apartments (sort of like the Pink Palace). The rent was good, so the Pines decided to live there. As being an apartment complex, there are more tenants...

The Hawthornes (Earth's equivalent of the Clawthornes...Tumblr wants me to correct Hawthornes but not Clawthornes?) and the Plantars...

I kicked them out in favor of giving them focus in Fragmented, but apparently wanted a part in Project 618 too...

Granted, Fragmented would be the one with more characters from Amphibia and the Owl House in the plots (and maybe new iterations of their episodes into GF) while here, in Project 618, this would be it (with a maybe exception of Raine because Raeda forever <3).

Plus, as I mentioned in a previous post, there won't be a lot of major baggage (with the exception of King and Sprig lacking their biological parents). By this, I mean Eda hasn't been struck by a curse, though she still became a vagabond mostly due to her carefree nature.

Not only that, but I am now attending Fragmented to be more lighthearted (just the fun generic second summer idea without overarching, end-of-the-world stakes; plus towns based on Wartwood and Bonesborough.) compared to Project 618...I mean, there's still gonna be some goofy moments (nothing can be 100% serious).

Why do I do this to myself?

[mudwerks]

(via Back to Zero by Mark Borthwick and Maria Cornejo | AnOther)

Featuring photos of Chloë Sevigny, Stella Tenant and more, new book Back to Zero celebrates the 25th anniversary of Zero + Maria Cornejo

[hattywatch]

J. Vesey - July For the Whole Year Ch. 1

A/n: Hello all! It's been a while, but I'm still lurking about. I heard that Jimmy was back on the table for the Rangers a few months ago and started this, with endgame in mind that he'd be back and NOW HE IS. I decided to do chapters so it's easier to consume. We're clocking about 35 pages currently. It's about 90% completed, so the subsequent chapters should be up fairly quickly. This is 100% self-serving. I wanted a disgustingly long will-they-won't-they, friends to lovers, so I had to do it my damned self. Stop by, say hi, stay awhile; I read all comments, tags, messages etc- so don't be shyyyy!) Please check out my Masterlist (I finally made one!) if you want some more content :)

_______________________________

August 2017

“PIVOT!” a decidedly male voice shouts from down the hall. You almost laugh, but it’s 8am on a Saturday and you don’t really want to commit to being fully awake quite yet. 

“Dude, that was not funny 2 floors down, and it’s even less funny now-” still male, but another voice answers back. 

It seems like Stella, the building manager, has finally found someone to let the large three-bedroom at the end of the hall. It’s been vacant for the whole summer, which was nice. The floor only has 2 other 1 bedroom apartments, so it’s been you and Mr.Callahan for the better part of 3 months. He’s a septuagenarian and hardly makes any noise, so it's been akin to having the entire 4th floor to yourself and it's been too short-lived for your taste. To say you were delighted when the last tenants moved out is an understatement. You haven’t had to vie for the elevator, wake up to any loud music, or have a sneezing fit- which aroused your suspicion of a contraband feline residing nearby. You’re sad to have it come to an end, but maybe they’ll quiet down once they move in. 

Rolling over, you wedge your face in between your pillows, successfully blocking the sound and falling back into a gentle doze. 

______

Two weeks later, you’re sitting on the rooftop deck, lounging like a dog in the sun, sipping an iced-coffee from the cafe down the street and reading a magazine when the rooftop door opens to a boisterous duo, mid-conversation. 

“Brady will do it again this year. You watch. No way he retires, he’s got too much left in him. Guy’s an animal-” they’re both tall, but the sandy haired one is loud, clearly from Boston- his R’s dropping at the end of his words, making “Year,” sound wrong to your ears, attuned for New York City. 

“I’m not doubting him, man. He’s just getting up there,” they sit at the table next to you, clad in swim-suits, clearly about to use the pool- the paint is chipped and worn, but the water is crystal blue and chlorinated enough that even the unwashed masses of the city can’t sully it. The small pool is your favorite perk of the aged building.

Hiding your eyes behind your sunglasses, you size them up. They're young, likely in their twenties and they're both fit as hell, thick and muscled. Not a bad sight, but you'd hate to leer, so you go back to your magazine, only half paying attention to the chatter next to you as it moves from sport to sport before they finally walk towards the water.

It's cold, you know it's freezing, which is why you’ve chosen to tan and not float around in the water. One of the kids in the building had an accident in it last weekend; it had to be drained and cleaned and it hasn't had the time to warm up yet. It seemed almost silly to refill it now, since there's barely two weeks left of summer, but who are you to complain?

“Jesus Christ!” You can’t really hold back the laughter even though you try, so a choked snort makes its way out despite your best efforts. The sandy haired one is only in the water up to his knees and the darker haired one hasn’t even started his descent down the pool steps yet, and you don’t want to be the creep eavesdropping and gawking, so you pull your magazine up a little higher over your face to hide. 

“You could have warned us! It’s fuckin’ ice cold,” he retreats up the steps and sits back in his chair on the deck. “I’m Kevin, I just moved here. This is Brady.” Kevin sticks his hand out to shake, and you drop Cosmopolitan onto the wire table in front of you to meet his grip. 

His handshake is strong and warm. “Here, New York, or here, this building?” you ask after giving him your name. Brady leans in after Kevin, hand outstretched, so you shake his too. 

“This building. I’ve been in New York a couple-a years now. But we just moved to this building a few weeks ago. We’re down on 4; us and our buddy Jimmy.” You nod and tell him you’re on 4 too, but then his phone rings and it’s Jimmy and he has pizza. They invite you down to eat, but you decline, wanting to soak up as much summer as possible before the weather turns biting and fall’s crisp air rolls into the city. 

“Nice to meet you! We’ll see you around. Don’t be a stranger!” They wave jovially as they continue through the rooftop door. They seem nice enough. Saving your magazine from the condensation sweating down your coffee cup, you pick up where you left off - “How to Find a Normal Dude on a Dating App,” and wonder how they can possibly pass the same garbage off as something new each month.

______

It’s 2 o’ clock in the morning, according to the glance you give at your way-too-bright phone, and you hear the scraping of a key in your lock. It’s scary because your building is generally safe, and you can count on one hand the number of people who have a copy of your key- Stella the building manager, your elderly neighbor Mr. Callahan, and one ex who you ended it with over 6 months ago. The latter is the only one that makes sense since you know Stella leaves by 8pm each evening and Mr. Callahan is in bed shortly after his early-bird dinner at 4pm. 

If it is someone with malicious intent, they’re certainly not trying to sneak in, they’re cursing loudly and wrenching the knob that refuses to turn. The console table next to your front door houses your keyring, equipped with a small can of mace, so you grab it before checking the peephole. 

“Kevin are you fucking kidding me?” You unlock the door and yank it open to Kevin’s sleepy face on the other side. His eyes are droopy and his smile is lopsided. 

“Heyyyy, what are you doing at our house?!” You’ve seen Kevin around often since meeting him and Brady at the pool a few weeks ago. He’s always coming to or from the gym, or grabbing take-out, or the bar- which is probably the case right now. Kevin is good people, so you can’t find yourself getting too mad at the disturbance. 

Pocketing your keys in your robe, you join him in the hallway. “This isn’t your house, you dweeb. It’s mine,” he looks slightly confused before spinning around in the hall at his surroundings. 

“I see the problem now,” you’re not sure that he actually sees much of anything, since he looks a little worse for the wear right now, but he looks down to the floor before smiling back up at you, “your doormat should have tipped me off… we definitely never bought a doormat.”

He’s wobbly at best, so you grab him by the elbow and steer him towards his door. “Your boys home? Who’s going to tuck you in, bud? Make sure you have some water and get to bed okay?” Kevin is having a hard time with his keys, so you take the tangled ring and try a few before giving up and knocking loudly. 

“Hey!! I have something that belongs to you!” Kevin giggles and rests his forehead against the wall next to the door. 

The locks on the other side make a metallic jerking noise before the door is yanked open. You assume it’s the elusive 3rd roommate, Jimmy, since it’s certainly not Brady. Kevin has mentioned him in passing, but your paths haven’t crossed yet in the few weeks since they’ve moved in. 

He sighs and steps out into the hallway to get a look at Kevin. “You’re kidding me. How did you even make it home?”

“He didn’t,” you interject, “well… he made it to the building and then he tried to get into my apartment. Damn near maced him. He scared the crap out of me.” Jimmy seems to notice you for the first time. 

He looks a little sheepish when he responds, “I’m so sorry, he’s harmless really. Just drank a bit too much, I’m sorry he woke you up. We’re still pretty new to the building, he must have been confused.”

You smile, “It’s okay. I live down the hall and we met a few weeks ago. Good for him actually… it’s bear mace, so...” Kevin is still leaning heavy against the wall when you look over at him. 

“Oh, yeah- Brady mentioned you, I think. (y/n)?” Jimmy leans against the door jamb, arms crossed, and smiles- warm, like it’s not an inconvenience for you to be knocking on his door dragging an inebriated friend home to be taken care of. 

“That’s me…” you pause, not really wanting to get into a conversation at this time of night, the siren song of your soft bed and warm covers calling you back, “Do you think you can give him some water? Maybe some aspirin and make sure he gets to bed?”

Jimmy nods slowly as you talk, before the words seem to land and he nods more vigorously. “Oh, yeah of course… I am sorry, though- again. Thanks for getting him home, I got him from here,” he pulls Kevin over the threshold of the apartment, but doesn’t follow him down the hallway yet. 

“I’m Jimmy, by the way- nice to meet you and thanks again for not pepper spraying Kev.” You step one foot backwards, still looking in Jimmy’s direction. 

“Anytime, Jim. Make sure he survives the night.”

Jimmy smiles and salutes, “You got it. See you around, (y/n)” with one last wave, he closes the door and you finally head back to bed, knocking out as soon as you hit the pillow. 

______

Sunday morning you sleep in until 10, you feel like you’ve earned it after your night was interrupted however, Sundays are also for cleaning, so while your coffee is brewing, you pick a playlist on your phone and turn it on, loud enough that you can hear it throughout your apartment, but low enough to not bother Mr.Callahan through the thin walls. 

You’re halfway through cleaning out your fridge, dumping expired items into the garbage pail and making a grocery list for things to replenish, when there’s a sharp knock on your door. It’s not like you’re expecting company, so you glance at the mirror in the bathroom to make sure you’re decent before checking the peephole and opening the door to Jimmy. 

“Good morning,” you’re cheery, invigorated by the 2 cups of coffee you’ve downed so far and the adrenaline from being productive pumping through your veins.  

He has a brown paper bag in his hand, and he smiles, a small blush high on his cheekbones, and you can tell he’s much more reserved than Kevin, who is gregarious, loud, and boisterous each and every time you’ve bumped him since the very first day you met. 

“Uh, hey. Good morning. Hope I’m not bothering you-” he pauses and looks for permission to continue. You didn’t notice last night, half asleep and bleary, but he has the same accent as Kevin and you peg him as a Bostonian as well. 

Shaking your head you assure him, “Not at all. It’s daytime, that’s typically when visitors are expected. Let Kevin know, I don’t think he’s heard.” You smile and he huffs out a small chuckle.

He hands the paper bag over to you. “Just wanted to thank you again for being so cool about last night. Kev had a rough week and he felt like shit this morning when he realized what happened. He’s still sleeping it off, but just a little peace offering.”

The bag has the logo of the cafe down the street, where you frequently grab coffees and breakfast when you’re running late for work. “I just grabbed some bagels and a bacon, egg, and cheese. Heard that’s the way to a New Yorker’s heart…” he stops awkwardly as you unroll the top of the bag, and peer inside, “You’re not a vegan or anything are you… I didn’t even think about that. Hope it’s oka-”

“It’s great, Jimmy. Did you want to come in? There’s a ton of food here and I just made a fresh pot of coffee.” You step to the side and hold the door open, giving him a clear path into the house. 

He smiles again, it lifts up higher on one side of his mouth. “One cup can’t hurt I guess,” he steps in past you, nose leading him to the coffee pot on the counter. 

______

Jimmy stays for a few hours, he’s easy to talk to, quieter than Kevin, but you can immediately tell he’s got a sharp wit and it comes out the longer he sits in your kitchen, hat backwards and refilling his cup whenever it gets low. You start off talking about Kevin over your bagels and coffee, before devolving into how they know each other (distant cousins who grew up in Boston- you were right about the accent), and then he’s happy to talk about back home, opening up a little and telling you all the best spots in town, “I’m a local, so you know they’re good. You can’t go off google, that’s not authentic,” and defending ‘Dunks’ against all other coffee in the known world. 

“An extra extra? What the hell is that?” You’re topping off his coffee, grabbing the sugar canister off the counter and putting it on the table in front of him. 

“Extra cream, extra sugar. Why, what do you call it here?” 

“Fucking disgusting?” You laugh at your own joke, adding milk to your coffee, “Light and sweet I guess? Tell me something else in Boston.” His posture is relaxed as he leans back in his chair and starts talking about the Harvard Library, of all things. 

You’re happy with how Jimmy opens up sitting in your kitchen on a Sunday morning- chore list forgotten with both of your dishes sitting in the sink. You haven’t felt self conscious for one second even though you’re in your pajamas, hair in a sloppy bun on your head as you compare childhoods in the largest cities on the eastern seaboard. 

The conversation has turned to Game of Thrones, and he’s putting up a pretty good argument for you to start binging it, “I swear it’s like a movie every week. The production value is incredible,” when there’s a knock on your door. 

“More people have knocked on this damned door in the last 12 hours than have in the last 3 years. Sorry Jim, one sec- let me see who that is.” It’s equal parts surprising and unsurprising when you see Kevin on the other side of the peephole. The easy choice is to let him in, turn back around, and walk him to the kitchen as he stammers out his apologies, trailing behind you. 

“Jimmy apologizes better. He brought food,” You take your seat across from Jimmy at your small kitchen table again, as Kevin looks visibly shocked to see Jimmy there, one eyebrow making its way up in question. Jimmy immediately turns bright red when he meets Kevin’s eye. 

He makes himself at home, leaning against your counter and opening up the paper bag before selecting a bagel. “Butter in the fridge?” you nod and he helps himself. “I was wondering where you went, bro. I’ve been up for hours and you haven’t answered one text. I was about to head to the gym to look for you.”

Picking his phone up, Jimmy grits his teeth, “Ah, sorry. Time got away from me. I was supposed to be training, but I stopped by to apologize- for your dumb ass by the way- and we got to talking, I didn’t check my phone.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Kevin tells him it’s no big around the bitten off hunk of bagel wedged in his cheek. “You got plans today, (y/n)?” He chews heartily before you shake your head no, and Kevin lists off about five things that he wants to do, clearly no longer plagued by a hangover. Jimmy meets your eye and you shrug. 

“Sure, let me get ready.” You haven’t had a friend in the building before, but it feels a lot like you just made a few.

[strangersteddierthings]

Just asking some fun questions to people in the Steddie nation! Who makes the coffee in the morning? Who washes the dishes at night? Who deals with the spiders and/or mice in the house? (Stella isn't an option, I know she is a coward).

!!! Random ask!! Yay!!

Also, >:0 slander of Stella! She's so so so brave! You should see her defend us from the leaves in fall! Very tough 😤

No one washes dishes at night in my house, this is a trick question. Mom wakes up at like 4am and does them and makes coffee. Then I reheat the coffee on days I have it lol

And it is I who deals with spiders/mice, much to my dismay and sorrow D: But if I don't, that they'll also become tenants of this house and they don't pay rent.

Thanks so much for the random ask bestie!! <3