#these bozos just needed friendship

[abagofmagictrix]

I will never not adore the protagonist "taming" their antagonist trope, it's honestly so good.

[crushedsweets]

i NEED to know more about the ‘familial’ between clockwork and jeff , what does this mean

oh man. ok so canonically(on clockys side) they had a brother-sister type friendship and i thought it was sweet + i thought it would spark insane drama.

im imagining clocky had bumped into jeff a lot while she was in her 7-month slender-sick daze, killing people and passing out in random parking lots and ditches and gas station bathrooms. a few times when the proxies try capturing her, jeff intercepts and is like 'ahhhhh L bozo she got away lolz' just cuz he thinks she's cool.

he loves all the chaos she's causing in the city. he'd think she's badass, follow her around, mess with her. find her passed out in a slightly too public place and drag her somewhere that cops arent gonna quickly find her, cuz he LIKES having this other killer cause hella problems in the city. and clocky would have some moments that she remembers of this weirdo guy laughing, splashing some water on her face, taking her to a safe area, and heading out.

SO, when the proxies get rid of her O/S syndrome, they put her in the barn....

which...is where jeff has been crashing at for a long time.... and they'd immediately recognize each other. "OH SHIT YOURE THAT CRAZY ASS CHICK ARENT YOU" "you're that ugly motherfucker who saved my ass." i dont think jeff is some super sympathetic sweetheart who was saving her cuz he cares so deeply and just wants to be there for her cuz he loves her sooo bad... but i think he thinks she's cool, he was there for her(even if it was just for laughs), they lived together, they bicker like siblings, and i think clocky would have saved jeff from the proxies a lot too. outside of the BEN thing, of course.

so theyre siblings >.o but it gets really sticky when nina comes into the picture.

[writtenontheport]

Hey, would you write Anthony Lockwood x reader, in which George and Lucy are fed up with the reader and Lockwood arguing and lock them in the basement for the whole night until they reconcile, and at the same time profess their love for each other. Thanks in advance

Skeletons in the Closet but it’s Actually Just Us

Anthony Lockwood x (gn) reader

Warnings/Tags: Romcom levels of fluff, You’ve Got Mail level of romcom, no suggestive content, Lucy and George friendship, They are deeply fed up, ‘Locked in a cupboard until they confess’ trope, Lockwood is a silly guy, confessions, Reader is a bit of a grumpy person, Valid tbh when the love of their life is some self-sacrificing bozo, A bit of angst given the nature of the Problem, mentions of death,

Notes: Just reviewed all the romcoms I’ve watched these past few weeks so this might be extra cheesy. Also I am rereading your request, anon and I am so sorry but I misread it so BAD 💀But also I changed the time a bit from it being night to it being right after a case! I’m so sorry this isn’t how your request put it 😭 I have terrible reading skills VERY LOOSELY EDITED AND SHORT

Summary: You and Lockwood are unable to voice your own feelings for each other, which frustrates Lucy and George enough to take action. An argument, locked storage, and a heart to heart about the nature of your world later, you’re setting up… a date..???

Anthony John Lockwood was an annoying prat who strutted about like a peacock in desperate need of a slap. Now this frustration is usually the result of something smaller; minute, you might even say, but today— oh, today.

“You ran straight into danger—“ You repeat yourself for what must be the 4th time the past hour. Anthony is sitting across from you in the kitchen “—even though George and I had specifically warned you—“

“Lucy went in too!” He blurts, throwing his shoulders up.

“Keep me out of this,” Lucy hisses, narrowing her eyes at him, “I actually brought iron chains with me.”

You gesture at her wildly, nodding in vindication as you turn back to Lockwood, “Exactly. Lucy knew what she was doing, you were just being reckless! I basically had a heart attack when that Visitor nearly ghost-touched you because you—“

“I didn’t need you to push me aside and put yourself in danger, though!” He hissed, just as frustrated. “I knew what I was doing. I’m very well aware of how it looked like, but I swear I knew what I was doing. Even if… I did need your help getting out of the trouble I put myself in after.”

A pregnant pause hangs in the air, frustration and worry laying under tension so thick you could it with a knife. You look away first with a defeated huff. Lockwood raises a brow and his lips split into a wobbly smile, the charming bastard. He lounges back into his seat and rests one arm on the table in front of him— a gesture for your hand. The look would have been more impactful if a bruise wasn’t already forming on cheek and there wasn’t blood drying on his brow. Still, you make your way over to him to fix his tie (which had gotten caught on banisters during the case) and push his collar up. He beams at you when you pat his jacket neat, but you’re still upset.

“Reckless… stupid prick…” You mumble, brushing his hair with your hands.

Under you, Lockwood’s grin grows just the faintest bit soft as he lolls his head back just to watch your frown.

“I think, hear me out, this is just because you’re worried about me,” Lockwood hums.

You scoff, tugging his tie down harshly, “Someone has to with how little you seem to worry about your own life. Like, seriously Anthony? Our lives are on the line—“

“Want to go on a date?” He asks, interrupting you. You choke on air and quickly let go to swat at his chest. Even if he meant that jokingly, something blazing seemed to unfurl in your chest and stuttered your breathing. You’re usually warm around Lockwood, human heater that he was, but this was a feeling that had your palms clammy and your teeth burried into your lips.

“Now is not the time to joking, Lockwood,” you grit out.

“Well I’m not. I really mean—“ he starts, but the sound of a clang startles you both. Lockwood springs up and takes your hand in his, putting himself between you and the basement door. You look around to find Lucy, but her chair’s empty and pushed in. Worry seeps into your bones with a familiarity like the hand holding yours.

“Lucy? George?” Lockwood calls out, stepping closer to find the door ajar.

Distantly you hear both of them call for you and Lockwood, sounding distressed. You push yourself in front of Lockwood into the spiral staircase down, dismissing the small click of his tongue from behind you.

“You’re being reckless now,” He whispers harshly, which you ignore.

It’s a quick trip to the bottom (with Lockwood likely frowning the whole way down), as you rush into the basement. Lucy and George are standing by the ‘high security’ storage room, something unreadable and determined in their expressions. You rush forward, checking on both of them and giving each a hug after.

You flutter about them both, brows furrowed in worry, “Are you two alright? Are you hurt? Is everything—“

From behind you, Lockwood’s hands rest on your shoulders then rub up and down along your arms in a soothing gesture. “What’s happened?”

Lucy gives George a look, and he clears his throat to say, “We found something in the storage. I couldn’t see it that well, and Lucy—“

Lockwood, the absolutely reckless prick, was already making his way inside. You take a breath through your nose and follow right after him, sending reassuring smiles to Lucy and George as you step in. You whip back to glare at Lockwood’s head, ever the reckless hero he was.

“Lockwood don’t just walk in without even hearing about the situation.” You check a shelf for the sources you keep locked away, Lockwood taking the opposite. A quiet moment passes as you run a hand along the line of the shelf, trying to sense for anything out of the ordinary.

“Probably a Visitor took a break from being in one of our… usually foolproof containers.” He looks over a small, see-through box to check for any cracks or breakage.

You whip back to glare at him, feeling not only worried, but frustrated as well. “Which is exactly why you shouldn’t have just waltzed in, Anthony. This is exactly what I mean when I say you’re completely reckless sometimes—“

The door to the high security storage clicks closed, and you both startle. You make your way over to push the door open, but the lock is keeping it shut.

“Shit,” Lockwood rasps out. Yeah, that’s fair.

When you got home from the case that day, you didn’t think the rest of the night would be spent being locked in the basement storage for the next morning. After a quick argument with Lucy and George (who promised to be back whenever ‘you two (you and Lockwood) had stopped arguing and acting like idiots’) where they had insisted they wouldn’t be too far and to just yell for them if anything went wrong.

Now, Lockwood sat beside you with your backs to the door. Lucy had had the foresight to leave you behind with medical supplies, and you found one of George’s sticky notes on a tray of quick snacks. Messily scrawled in the way only George ever could, was Get yourselves together, thanks.

If getting yourselves in order and making up looked like awkward silence and Anthony’s self-soothing stretching and everything you did to self-soothe, then it was looking fantastic. Lockwood had yet to say anything but a few curses when he tried to open the door, though he’d given up half an hour in. Now it was just you two munching on biscuits in a semi-awkward silence.

“I meant it, you know,” He says suddenly, as you’re patching him up and cleaning his wounds. His eyes don’t mean yours when you look up, but you know what he means.

“It was a terrible time to suggest that kind of thing, Anthony,” You bite back, careful to dress his wrist properly.

“I meant it though.” He says sincerely; challengingly. He was always like this, baiting for you to fight back or ague for more, even if you could never tell why.

“Then we’d go on a date, do whatever it is people who like each other do, then I…” you rest your fingers over his open palm, and he slides his own in the spaces between yours “… I watch you throw yourself into danger— into sure death and just wait for either our talents to dry up or for either of us to die?”

“No,” he hums, peering at you through his long lashes, “Well, sort of, just—“

“What else, Anthony?”

“I wouldn’t word it like that.” He squeezes your hand and you purse your lips. Here you are with someone you love dearly wondering if the next time either of you go out there someone dies.

“Then how would you word it, Lockwood?” You want to hope, voice cracking under the weight of your need. Your soft heart lurches from the thick walls of your chest— through the ribs and the muscle and whatever the fuck else was there— reaching with its sharp claws for a scrap.

“We… go on a date. Because I like you and you like me, and because even without the problem hanging over us, we could die at any minute. I, for one, wouldn’t want to waste any of it I could have with you, now or after.” Like a ray of hope, the twinkle in his eyes. Like a ray of hope, that punchable, kissable grin. Your heart lurches and your breath stutters.

You take a free hand to tuck loose strands of his hair out of his face, humming, “How are you so sure I like you, Lockwood?”

“I don’t,” he admits sheepishly. He’s boyish like this, whispering and grinning at you with something not so cocky and infuriatingly cute. “Just a guess really.”

“George told you.” Even though you never told George.

“George did tell me he had a theory, yes… Backed it up with evidence and everything”

You glare at him for a moment, this ray of hope your heart has chosen to cling onto in these times and troubles, and find yourself faltering.

“One condition. Then we can go on however many dates you want for however long you’ll have me,” you offer, dropping your hands down to look proper into his face.

“Anything,” he says easily, shuffling closer to you.

“Try not to be so reckless. We can’t have you dying before even the first one— or any of them, understand?” You pinch his nose lightly, earning a gentle swat back from him.

“You have to try, too. I can’t lose you either.” He brings your hands to his lips, pressing kisses along each knuckle.

I love you goes unspoken, but he sees it in the way you smile so warmly at him, and you see it in the way he holds your hands like it’s the world. Not today, but maybe someday you will tell each other. Today you yell for George and Lucy to finally let you both out and face the world hand in hand.

A/N: I’m such a fan for the “couple who’s not yet a couple bicker endlessly with each other over every little thing” cause I find it so cute. I am a ‘love at first argument’ girlie to the core. Some of my most major crushes have been people I argue with near constantly. Also, because you didn’t anon specify I flipped a coin and it landed on (gn).

Side note: This is especially short because I’m still thinking on how to go about a few things I’m writing. Been having ideas for an angst fic for either Lockwood or Lucy (x reader, ofc) and continuing George’s series because I am deeply in love with him

[voxmilia]

Tell me about Adaine :D

Send me a character and I'll ramble

Ily, thank you for indulging my hyperfixations! 🥰

Also tagging @ghostlyeris and @shackld bc they also sent in Adaine jhdalshd loving Adaine is my brand ig (it's an excellent brand)

Under the cut bc I rambled so goddamn much

My first impression: "oh...oh wait help her voice is so soft, oh she had a panic attack at her entrance exam? Oh baby 🥺"

My impression now: "that's my GIRL, that's my GIRL, she's got a gun and a magical punching spell and she's gonna kill everyone who hurts her or her friends"

Favorite thing about that character: She's so endlessly caring. She's been put through the absolutely wringer and yes, she's guarded about it. But she's so, so kind. She has downtime and she offers to clean her friend's closet or throw an ice cream party. She uses her jacket that can produce anything (under 10 gold) and 90% of the time uses it to get stuff for her friends. She's three for three on helping redeem wizard antagonists, she's amazing

Least favorite thing: It's more least favorite in that I love her so much, I want her to have nice things? But narratively, it makes sense. She's so guarded and independent because she's had to be. And so that means now she struggles to accept help and open herself up especially to parental affection. And it just breaks my heart, seeing how far she's come but how far she has to go to let herself be loved the way she deserves.

Favorite line/scene: Her and Aelwyn in sophomore year is imprinted on my brain forever. In Fallinel wizard jail, holding the broken shell of her big sister in Kei Lumenura, the confrontation in the nightmare forest. "I do not love our parents and though you have not earned it? I do love you." TEARS. EVERY TIME.

Runner up goes to any scene with her and Jawbone - the iconic "You're not a coward, Adaine, you're just sick, you need medicine!" and the equally iconic "You're easy to love. And anyone who couldn't figure that out is a real bozo."

Third place goes to the ping pong table scenes, both of them. The amount of times I quote "ONE GUY OFFERED ME DIAMONDS AND I RAN AWAY" in dms is so funny

Also obviously "MAGIC IS REAL AND SO IS MY FROG!!!!!!!"

Favorite interaction that character has with another: beyond the above examples with her and Aelwyn, her and Jawbone, and her and Oisin? It's so silly but I'll always have a soft spot for her and Zayn in the opening to sophomore year. "You may absolutely tread upon my sanctum santorum!"

Also ofc any interaction with her and Ayda so I'm SO glad we got that moment in junior year where they were shading each other. Their friendship means the fucking world to me. They made each other spells, I'm forever tender about that

A character that I wish that character would interact with more: After junior year, I have to say Sandra Lynn! Their scene was incredibly sweet!! She's her dad's girlfriend and the closest thing to a mother figure she has, they deserve to have a moment! Also in a similar vein, Tracker! Tracker is not only her adoptive cousin but also her former roommate - she lived with Tracker nearly as long as she's lived with Kristen and about as long as she's lived with Fig, I'm so curious about their dynamic.

Another character from another fandom that reminds me of that character: it's not at all a one to one but my immediate thought was Annette Dominic. Just? Idk something about incredibly studious girls who don't know how to relax and just be kids, who had to grow knowing they were abandoned or neglected by their parents and had to find the love they deserve in a group of school friends? Idk!! I think they'd be friends. Adaine would offer to kill Gilbert

A headcanon about that character: Though it's her legal name, Adaine doesn't really refer to herself as an O'Shaughnessy, mostly out of habit. At her college graduation ceremony, she insists on being announced as Adaine Abernant-O'Shaughnessy. Jawbone cries.

A song that reminds of that character: So I haven't started her playlist and didn't wanna just pull something from mine and Nick's ship playlist for her and Oisin, so I just looked on Spotify and 🥺 Someone gave her Waiting on a Miracle from Encanto and that breaks my heart, so I have to say that one.

An unpopular opinion about that character: I'm ambivalent on the glasses. I like her with or without them. I know most folks seem to think that's just canon but personally I'm way more team "Riz definitely has a tail" than "Adaine definitely has glasses"

Favorite picture: HOW DO I CHOOSE, let me highlight a few of my faves:

the absolutely iconic princess mononoke moment with oisin,

this heartbreaking art of adaine and aelwyn while aelwyn is still imprisoned in sophomore year

this gorgeous bad kids group shot that I use currently as my tupperbox icon for adaine

this stunning and tragic parallel with adaine and the previous elven oracle

[joestvr]

༺✮ atashi no kimyona jinsei // あたしの奇妙な人生 ✮༻

༺✮ summary: five years after the fall of diavolo, you, y/n romano, who was sent away to japan at 11 to further your studies—find the courage to come back to naples after living out your schoolgirl & gaijin university student facade in morio-chou to see how your clan’s worsened—as well as become the “donna” of your father’s gang, il terrore, while your older brother is the real leader behind the scenes, just using you as a front. with plans to murder your clan, you seek the particularly handsome young don of passione for friendship. with your tyrant father’s intervention, your friendship with the don turns to something you never saw coming.

★ 1 // il terrore ★ 2 // bella

You awoke that morning to something warm and large beside you. When you opened your eyes, you realized it was Vince sleeping soundly with you. You hit him.

"Vince!" You yelled. He flinched.

"Ugh, Y/n..."

"Get the hell out of my bed!" You took your pillow and started hitting him with it.

"Jesus, okay, I'm leaving..."

"How perverted are you?! Idiota!"

"Sorry!"

You sighed loudly and rubbed your face, getting up to take a shower.

You got out, fixed your hair, did your makeup, and put your outfit on.

You pulled on your black, leather Prada calf boots with a 3 inch platform heel. "Alexander!" You yelled.

"Alexander!"

No response. "Alexander!"

You screamed with annoyance. "Ughhh!"

You stormed out your room and into Alexander and Alima's. You could tell they were naked. "Ew!"

"Y/n!" Alexander woke up and shouted.

"Get up!" You said even louder.

"Shut the fuck up! Get out!" He pointed to the door.

★★★★★★★★★

Trish was sitting at the dining table with the gang eating breakfast when she heard her phone buzz, and she had gotten a text.

g morning, cant wait 2 c u. lets go out. xo y/n <3

She smiled to herself reading the text, typing her response.

morning babe, eating brkfast w the guys... will be hella hard to escape them agh! meet u in 25 @ plaza? xo trish.

She waited for your reply and her cell phone buzzed again.

omg v is such a piece of shit guess where i found him

She chuckled a little to herself.

in ur bed again? lmao he alwys wants 2 sleep w u

shut up! its not even funny anymre hes totally a douche. fking bozo i swr

She laughed a little more.

stfu hes ur bsf. cut him sum slack babe

ok i gtg... alx is yelling at me. c u in a bit x

x luv u bye

Her smile faded when she realized everyone had stopped eating from their plates and were looking at her dead in the eye.

"What?"

"Who were you texting?" asked Mista.

"Why do you care? Pipe down." She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

She rook her last sip of her coffee and stood up.

"Trish, where are you going?" asked Bucciarati.

"I'm going out."

"To see who?" questioned Fugo.

"My friend! What is wrong with all of you?"

"We just want to keep you safe, Trish, calm down." said Giorno.

"Too many scumbags walking the streets. You never know what could happen." mumbled Abbachio.

"Trish is not sneaking around with some guy, everyone. Please." Spice Girl suddenly appeared beside her, reassuring the group.

"Bucciarati, can I have some money?" Trish asked nicely, looking at him, puppy eyed.

"For what?" said Abbachio bitterly.

"I'm going shopping."

"Sure, Trish," he pulled out his wallet and gave her fifteen 10,000 lira bills, "spend it wisely. Have fun, be safe."

She snatched the money with a smirk. "I'll be back later." She kissed his cheek.

"Don't forget you need to be here to come with Giorno to see that guy with Il Terrore at 4!" said Fugo as she picked up her bag and walked out.

She arrived and stood in front of the Prada store, waiting for you.

When she spotted you, her face lit up with delight and she ran to you, jumping into your arms. "Y/n!"

You hugged her tightly and spun her around. "Trish!"

"I missed you so, so much, Y/n. You have know idea how things are without you. I'm so happy." She kissed your cheeks and you did the same.

"Your hair is so pink, and longer!" You ran your fingers through her hair, amazed.

"You haven't changed one bit. You look super sexy though." She grinned.

"Please, look at that body of yours! Too gorgeous."

She linked her arm into yours and walked into the Prada store.

"I saw this bag in a- a maga— a magajin- sorry, magazine."

"Your Japanese accent is insane now, Y/n. The Don will be amazed. Did you know he's half Japanese?" She said.

"No, he's not. I heard he has golden, flaming hair like the morning sun, and bright green eyes."

"That's true. He's really tall too, he grew so much since the first time I met him."

"How tall?" You were eager to know; you love taller guys.

"He was 170cm 5 years ago, now he's 195cm. Bulked up a lot since then."

"You're kidding! That's so hot!" You became happy.

"Ha. He's so handsome, every girl from every family wants to marry him."

"You don't like him?" You turned to her.

"Not at all, to be honest. He's like my brother."

"You're living with all those hot men and not interested in any of them? Huh." You raised an eyebrow.

She blushed and looked away, "Narancia, on the other hand..."

You gasped, "You have a crush!"

"He's so cute... like really cute."

"Zaaaaamn, I see you." You smirked.

"I guess. I want to buy this for Bucciarati, look." She picked up a black leather belt with the Prada Milano logo engraved on the buckle.

"Get it."

"Okay," she waved over an associate, "wrap these up for us, and send them to the front."

The person nodded and took the items you and Trish wanted to purchase to the register. You walked with her there and pulled out your money, but she did as well.

"Trish, please let me pay."

"No, Y/n, please let me pay."

"Trish."

"Y/n."

"Trish, let me pay."

"Y/n, I'm paying. End of story."

You rolled your eyes and put your money away, "Fine. You win."

She got the bags and handed one to you, smiling.

"Thank you, Trish."

"No problem, Y/n." She wrapped her arm around you as you walked together.

"Hey, why don't you give Vince a chance? I know how much he loves you."

"Ugh, as if!" You said, "I really tried, you know. His pride won't allow him to actually be committed to a relationship with someone like me. I love him a lot but I don't want anything long term."

"But if he wasn't the way that he was and he really wanted to haved something with you..." She raised her eyebrows.

"No, I wouldn't."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Damn, okay then."

"But the thing is, I have to be married with a kid before 25," You frowned, "Guys don't like me."

"Girl, I can see at least 15 men looking at you as we pass by. Look, that guy riding a bike just crashed into a trash can, he's looking right at you." She laughed.

You looked over and saw a man laying in a pile of trash cans staring at you with bliss on his face.

"Yeah, but who's going to truly love and embrace me? With the way my mom was treated by my dad and how I was raised... I've lost all hope."

"I think you'll like the Don, Y/n. I think you'll really like him." She squeezed your arm and smiled at you.

"Sure I will..."

Trish looked down at her watch. "Look, it's already 3. I need to head back before everyone gets suspicious..."

You kissed her cheek again and nodded.

"See you later, Donna." She teased, waving then walking off.

★★★★★★★★★

You were sitting at your vanity, putting on lipstick when your stand, Cheri Lady decided to appear.

"Are you seducing him or making a deal with him? Yare yare... Such a temptress." She mocked you, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall.

You had gained Cheri Lady as a result of your mother's death 8 years ago, your father had stabbed you with a Stand Arrow in a sorrowful rage.

Cheri Lady can steal a stand and/or its ability with just one touch and can recall its power at any given time. For example, since you had once temporarily stolen a stand with a healing ability, you could recall the stand and heal yourself without a problem. But you mostly use her to induce hallucinations on enemies, which works without even having to take their ability.

Another thing your stand is capable of is extreme physical power... Think: Star Platinum meets Spice Girl.. Kind of.

As well as tremendous raw power, Cheri Lady benefits from your negative thoughts and give rude commentary about you and the way you live your life and constantly criticize you...But she only says what you think-- She's just a manifestation of your conscience.

"Damare, Cheri Lady." You touched up your eyeliner and powdered your nose a little.

"You look like a prostitute, Y/n, what the hell are you wearing?"

"Leave my sight!"

"Hmph, as you wish, Y/n-sama." She said sarcastically then disappeared into your body.

You checked the time, put on your shoes, and rushed downstairs. "Vince, Alima! Let's go!" You shouted, picking up your keys quickly.

They rushed downstairs and everyone was out the door. Vince was wearing all black suit with no tie, his chest showing through his unbuttoned collar shirt. You tried not to laugh at him.

Alima was wearing nearly the same thing as you except her shirt was red.

You could feel anxiety creeping up but took a deep breath, seeing the beautiful riverside view from outside the restaurant, and you spotted that golden blonde hair. You rushed over.

"Ciao, Don Giovanna. Romano Y/— I mean, Y/n Romano." You held out your hand, but a man with purple hair and lipstick blocked you from doing so.

Everyone gasped. You could see Trish standing beside Giorno warily.

She's... a woman?! Everyone thought in their minds.

"Abbachio, please," Giorno muttered. He scowled and moved.

You were taken aback at the Don's beauty. He was... gorgeous.

Giorno bowed slightly, taking your hand into his and kissing your knuckles, then gesturing for you to sit down. "Please, sit down, bella."

You smiled softly and sat down. "You've got quite the personal guard here, Don Giovanna."

"It's Giorno, but please, call me GioGio. Rolls off the tongue nicely, don't you think?" His charms and politeness were getting to you. You were allured.

"Alright then, GioGio..."

"Can I call you Bella?" He asked.

"Sure." You nodded.

"Get on with the deal already! I don't have all day." said Abbachio, irritated.

Giorno shot him a sharp glare.

"May I know the names of your men?"

"Trish is here too, you know." He pointed her out. "She's my best friend, like my sister."

"Hey, bitch." She scoffed fakely. Everyone gasped again.

"Hey, ugly." You grinned and she put a hand on your arm playfully.

"I'll ask later..."

"Anyway," he put his hand on the shoulder of a man with a bob cut, wearing an expensive suit, the belt Trish bought for him visible, "This is my consigliere, Bruno Bucciarati."

He looked down and kissed your hand tenderly, "Pleased to meet you, Donna."

You smiled. "How charming..."

Giorno felt a pang of jealousy in him, then spoke again, putting his arm around the one in the beanie, "My caporegime, Mi—"

"Guido Mista. Head of Execution. Didn't know there would be such a pretty face running Il Terrore. Bellissima." He pushed Giorno aside and kissed your hand. Giorno's face twitched.

Narancia pushed Mista and kissed your hand as well. "I'm—"

"Narancia Ghirga," You interrupted warmly, squeezing his hand.

"Eh? How do you know who I am?" He questioned.

You looked at Trish, then back at him and winked without a word.

Fugo quickly shoved Narancia aside, cursed at him, then bowed formally, taking your hand and kissing it. "Pannacotta Fugo. Head of intelligence. It's an honor to meet you, Donna."

"Wow! So polite~" You teased slightly, smirking. You pulled away and looked up at the purple haired man. He was just standing there, looking at you angrily.

You maintained your expression and looked up at him, holding out your hand. He crossed his arms, your charms clearly not working its magic on him.

You felt a little discouraged, retracting your hand then turning to Giorno again.

He swallowed dryly then spoke up. "S-So, may I know the names of your friends here as well?"

"Yes," you directed your hand to Vince, "Vincenzo Sayyid, my capo."

"Ciao." He said.

You then looked at Alima, "Alima Dokhtari, my sister in law. She runs the treasury and whatnot."

"Glad we can meet like this, Don Giovanna." She smiled polite.

"So, Bella, I just want to be up front... Are you sure you are willing to give me everything you've offered?" He asked tentatively.

You took a sip of wine. "Yes, would you like me to give or take a few rekuwiam— Excuse me, Requiem arowszu— Arrows? Sorry," You put your hand on your chest and cleared your throat, "Tasuketekure..." You muttered to yourself.

"Nihongo de hanishimasu ka? Sono accento..." He grinned.

Your eyes widened. "Kimi wa.. nihonjin desu..ka? Maji de?"

Bucciarati and others looked at each other with confusion at the sudden language change.

He laughed and shook his head, "Iyaa. Hafu desu. Boku no oka san wa nihonjin desu."

"Sou desu ne.. Subarashi desu. You don't look half Japanese at all." You were in awe.

"Haha, I get that a lot. Anyway, about the deal..." He went quiet as a waiter approached with the bottle of wine.

"Can I refill your glasses?" He asked. Giorno nodded and put out his glass.

"Sir, do you allow smoking out here?" You asked as he poured the wine in your glass.

"Yes, go ahead. I'll bring you an ashtray."

You took out a cigarette and stuck it in your mouth, Cheri Lady appearing for a split second to light it with a flick of her finger. You pretended to not notice.

Giorno was stunned. Bucciarati looked at the men beside him in shock.

You turned your head away and blew smoke out your mouth, mindful of Giorno.

"So, as I promised," you said, "your 10 million lira," Vince opened a briefcase and the cash was seen in there, "your stand arrows," another briefcase opened, showing the arrows.

Giorno, utterly appalled, could not find any words.

You were insanely beautiful. He was allured, enchanted. Blood rushed to his face and it reddened.

"GioGio?"

He snapped out of his daze and nodded, "Er, y-yes. Everything looks perfect, Bella."

"Are you sure you don't need anything else? I can add an extra 5 million—"

"No, I insist. You've offered more than enough. I'm grateful you are willing to give all of this to Passione." His expression lightened with gratitude.

"If that's what you wish." You said, taking a drag from your cigarette, holding it between your fingers.

He noticed your almond shaped nails were painted nearly the exact same red as the wine. Must reflect off of your personality...

"Can we please get to the topic we discussed, Giorno?" asked Fugo condescendingly.

"Uh... Yes." He said.

You looked at him with curiosity.

He cleared his throat and your eyes met. "There has been an issue in our community regarding traitors."

You abruptly coughed smoke out of your mouth. "I-I'm sorry?"

"Y/n, forgive me if I'm being insensitive, but there have been various punks caught with kilo after kilo of drugs claiming that they're from Il Terrore... and that you put them up to this."

Vince suddenly gasped loudly and yelled out, "What an outrageous claim! Y/n—“

"Vince!"

"Y/n, what is this absurdity?! No such thing is happening in—“

You breathed in shakily, trying not to lose your temper as you slammed your hand down on the table.

"Vince, if you don't get the fuck out of my face and let the Don talk, I'm going to punch you." You murmured calmly, looking away from him.

He backed away slowly and Alima scowled, grabbing his ear, pulling on it while hitting him.

You sighed, putting out your cigarette bud. You put a hand over your mouth with humiliation, then lit another cigarette.

"I'm so sorry about him, GioGio, he has no manners whatsoever," you inhaled, "But as for such claims... They are all completely false. Drug dealing of any kind has been prohibited since the founding of Il Terrore, even during my father's reign... and I'm sure you've heard of his tyranny."

Giorno was internally giggling and kicking his feet, he knew he was in love already. He was blushing and staring deep into your eyes.

"I do hope you'll believe me, Giorno."

He smiled wide and nodded, "Of course, gorgeous."

You cracked up a little as Abbachio smacked the back of his head.

"S-So, um, I was thinking..." His voice trailed, and he was turning red like a tomato.

"What the Don wants to say is we were discussing going on a mission early tomorrow morning to confront some people holding drugs in their storage spaces." Bucciarati continued, standing behind Giorno and putting his hand on his shoulder.

"Sure." You said, then stood up as he did.

"I'll see you tomorrow, GioGio." You smirked softly and leaned in to kiss his cheek.

Giorno was speechless as he watched you walk away.

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

Hellow, i just reblogged that post about the cauldron loving elain and I have been seized with a need to figure out what the hell is going on with that so I shall read one (1) chapter if acomaf to bring me closer to my goal. For the record, I did know about the cauldron loving elain and hating nesta because idk, nesta was angry and annoying when she was dunked into it but elain was just so sweet and demure about it probably, i did not think it was. romantic love. but this is a sjm book so I was foolish to assume there would be a male character whos not insanely horny. Actually, is the cauldron even male? He is in the german version but thats just bc the word cauldron is masculine grammatically. Quick someone draw like, a tumblr sexyman humanized version of the cauldron. actually no, tumblrsexymen are traditionally twinks and sjm hates those. Quick someone draw like, a super buff shirtless man with golden hair, or whatever the color of the cauldron is

anyway, PREVIOUSLY ON: THE FLAMES AND DARKNESS LIVEBLOG we had the Court on Nightmares Under The Mountain Reenactment Scene as I like to call it and can we talk about how Feyre has known Rhys for like a year and only liked him for like half a year and yet she was perfectly fine sitting in his lap nacked and letting herself be sexualized by him. Like, I dont even have any kind of sexual trauma, you would still need to build up sooooo many years of friendship and good will for me to do that for you and you would NOT be allowed to jerk me off!! whatever, lets get on with this, its time for chapter 43

I hate that Rhysand is being all like "i shouldnt have brought you, i didnt want you to see this side of me" when its like, buddy you didnt have to do all this shit you couldve just walked in an been like "Im your high lord and demand your orb" and they wouldve given it to you because youre their high lord and youre demanding their orb. And if he thought they wouldnt have given it to him, he couldve easily come up with a different distraction he just went with the one that sexualizes Feyre because hes weirdo. Like, if hes so cruel on every other day then he shouldve acted really nicely, greeted Keir by giving him the biggest hug and being like "uncleeeee!! :D long time no see :)" and Feyre should have been dressed up as like, the embodiment of spring in pastel green soft shades of pink and but Rhysand still treats with the utmost kindness and respect, now that would throw the Hewn City for a loop

Okay so the reason Rhys broke keirs arm is because the word 'whore' triggered him which is understandable but like, Feyre thought of herself as the Highlords Whore in a very deliberate parallel to Rhysand being known as Amarantha's Whore and Im pretty sure she even straightup thought something about being in the position he had for so many years but she was like, horny about it and the narrative just isnt acknowledging it. Like, theyre not talking about it even though their mindlink was presumably open the whole time bc I remember them flirting through the link, and Feyre isnt even like "oh man, I feel bad for thinking that when its so upsetting to him" its so weird

Rhysand basically said "I will never try to protect you by locking you away, instead I will protect you by killing anyone who upsets you, even when they dont actually upset you and they just upset me" like he and Tamlin are not fundamentally any different from each other, its just that Rhysand is a coldblooded murderer. but its fine cuz he wears black leather i guess

I just realized. Rhysand had a boner when Feyre was sitting in his lap. did that go away when he broke Keirs arm or did he walk out of that meeting with his dick fully hard

Listen, maybe its just because its 3am and Im a little sleepdeprived but this conversation barely makes any sense, these bozos are just completely talking past each other at this point

Rhysand just said something about how Tamlin just locked Feyre up and let her waste away and almost die and Feyre was gonna say "He was trying his best" but Rhys interrupted her like "Dont compare me to him, stop comparing us" when she didnt say anything about that ??? my guy is projecting so hard rn he thinks theyre having a conversation that theyre not even having

And like i would argue that Feyre doesnt even compare Rhysand and Tamlin that much, the narrative definitely does it a LOT, but Ive been reading Feyres thoughts throughout this whole ordeal and I feel like she barely even thought about Tamlin since she sent him that letter

This scene is supposed this big turning point for their relationship and its clearly meant to be really emotional but the only emotion i can feel rn is annoyance with Rhysand because its like, he did have genuinely traumatic things that happened to him but not only is he barely affected by any of them, those are not even the things that the narrative brings up whenever its trying to get me to sympathise with him instead its always just "whaaaaaaa everyone thinks Im nasty and evil just because i keep doing nasty and evil things T-T"

Feyre is being very cruel but in a kinda funny way because its directed at Rhysand rn, i would insert the quote but I am in no state to translate anything at the moment but shes basically like "of course you have to hide your true self from your friends, they wouldnt wanna hang out with otherwise, you burden"

Idk why but the prose being like "my arrow struck him too deep" is so funny to me, it has the same energy as the vampire fics i read where the weird gay one gets his heart broken and he goes "it wouldve hurt less if he staked me in the heart"

Feyre is like "i cant believe he was so vulnerable and shared his sorrows with me and just threw all of it in his face" and I could not give less of a shit, but ive been on a big emotional abuse kick lately so now Im thinking about what if Feyre was just faking having feelings for Rhys in order to make him fall in love with her and be vulnerable with her only to then tell him the truth and reject the mating bond and make him completely break down as revenge for UTM. now that would actually be empowering

Now Feyre is thinking about how shes been using Rhysand for a long time now and come onnnnnn there is such a big power difference between them, I genuinely think its basically impossible for her to do that. Like, hes the most powerful guy in the history of guys or whatever, if anything you were doing bothered him that much he could simply make you stop doing it. hm. now Im thinking about what if rhysand was actually a huge masochist. Now that would actually be hot

Feyre is talking about how all the members of the inner circle suffered and are traumatized and theyve all learned to live with it and, not to extend too much sympathy to Rhysand, but all of the ICs major traumatic events happened centuries ago, his traumatic event happened one (1) year ago and it lasted 49 years i think its gonna take a little more time till hes all better

ughhhhhhh dont remind me of Amrens stupid romance subplot im gonna kill myself

Starfall is called Die Nacht der fallenden Sterne [the night of the calling stars] in german which is so much cooler and more whimsical, shoutout to my gal pal Alexandra Ernst for attempting to reinsert atleast a little bit of whimsy into this joyless world

Also, apparently its expected that Rhysand spend the first starfall in fifty years with his people, his people in this case referring to the Verlarians in the city that no one knows exists and not the people living in his courts actual capital. then again, i guess those bozos are all trapped under a mountain and wouldnt be able to watch it anyway so who cares

Amren said "hes not lucky to have us, we're lucky to have him" like yeah, hes paying you all exorbitant salaries just for being his buddies

God, amrens jacking rhys off so hard rn I cant believe she didnt wanna have sex with him when he asked

btw Im not even gonna dignify all that vaguely meta bullshit about how Tamlin is the golden prince and rhysand is the villain in the stories but the villain in stories is the guy who locks maidens away in towers and rhys freed her with anx kind of commentary because its just stupid, its just sjm bashing you over the head with how subversive she is when Tamlin and Rhysand are basically the same guy with different aesthetics at this point, like Feyre is not making a choice between the goodboy hero and the badboy villain, shes making a choice between a Bad Boy with a Heart of Gold (green) and a Bad Boy with a Heart of Gold (black)

[bugiseverywhere]

have a need to write a cowboy au ex partner x jean (aot) fic to “August” by flipturn- but my brain won’t let me figure out where to even start it.

August, honey, you were mine.

(just a choppy preview of what this idea could be)

Besides the sound of you and jean’s nasty conversation, the wind outside rustles the trees with such violence, you wonder if this is mother nature telling you you’re making the wrong decision. It’s the last night of july, you’re both 20 years old, ready to begin another fall with each other in your small town. At least that’s what jean thought when you asked him to pick you up to “talk about something”.

That’s how you found yourself here, sitting on the back of his truck while you watch jean down another beer he stole from his uncles fridge. Jean just couldn’t believe what was coming out of your mouth.

“i can’t live here forever, jean. I need’ta go find myself somewhere that ain’t here. Y’know, with the same people and places I’ve know my whole damn life.” and that “Everything is great, I just need sommethin’ different. I dunno..” After some more back and forth, and maybe a couple more drinks that he had planned on downing that night, jean let you walk away from him. You had your mind set and there was nothing he was able to say or do to keep you here.

Flash forward to five years later, after little to almost no contact, you’re back in your hometown.

You’re about a year and half graduated from your city college and decently happy with the life you made…but you couldn’t help to miss your old life back at home.

You often wondered how everyone was.

How everything was.

You wondered about him. mostly.

-

Okay Blah blah blah more story stuff…flash forward jean’s 25 now. it’s the last night of july and he ends up seeing you at some bar your daddy’s friend owns. It was often a common occurrence to find yourself and your three bozo friends here as kids.

He’s laughing with connie and sasha about some drunk fuck a couple seats down who’s about to black out in the middle of the bar, until he hears what sounds like your voice.

Jean’s eyes scans the scene of the bar as fast as he can, and finally his eyes settle on your figure. Your face is scrunched up in annoyance and your body tense.

Jean is absolutely blown away at how much you’ve changed. You look like a totally new person. Apparently your attitude hasn’t changed much. Jean can tell that much by the way you’re absolutely ripping into what seems like the pretty city boy you brought home with you. “Is that your new boyfriend? He doesn’t even look like me, there’s no way. I should go over there and see what’s goin on-“ Jeans thoughts are interrupted when your figure begins making its way to the bar, where him, connie and sasha are seated.

Blah blah blah. You two end up talking after you realize the group was sitting at the bar. Turns out your new boy toy is some dude name Eren Yeager.

Jeans not so happy with the situation you described to the group about you and Eren, and ends up getting all five of you thrown out of the bar after he “accidentally” let his fist slip into Eren’s face.

You two end up rekindling your past flame throughout the month of august (cue in the song), trying your best to hide it from everyone, as Eren is still holding himself in your heart.

I mean, you two aren’t doing anything wrong. Just rebuilding a friendship you lost.

Right?

(end preview)

-

-

-

If I actually write this, I’ll probably end up making it very angsty and make it a horrible experience for everyone and myself :).

[pyro-madder]

Do you have any ideas of Djura's relationships with other characters? Or maybe what was his vision of them? (Especially Ludwig, since, you know, *neigh neigh* in Old Yharnam)

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) thank you Faree for enabling me as usual

Funnily enough, Katy asked me the same a while ago ! My brainrot contaminates you sdfghj

Powder Kegs and associates || basically what I covered in my previous essay already !

Oto : made a person by french localization, the Kegs' founder ; naturally, looked up to as both a craftsman and a hunter by all its members, the then-apprentice Djura included.

Izzy : a friend to Oto, Djura also respected them despite not interacting with them much. It came with a sense of kinship after the burning, since Izzy explored the connection between man and beast and was branded a heretic for it.

Jozef, Brandr (ally) and Ysle (disciple) : Jozef is slightly older and a tutor in Izzy's teachings, Ysle is a younger Keg apprentice, and Brandr... it's a blood pact they got at this point, since I headcanon the guy as a survivor of the burning. Beyond these subtle variants, all four have a strong "it's us against the world" companionship, and because Brandr's the only one remaining today, he and Djura are fiercely protective of one another. of course, there may have been some benefits between the four of them ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

2. Fellow Old Hunters || my favorite one, for which I'll approximatively paste what I wrote to Katy !

Gascoigne, Henryk & Eileen : because they were, with Djura, my favorites when I started playing, I am greatly attached to two ideas : them being mentor figures to the Hunter, and them having been friends with each other. But I understand this theoretical friendship would be cut short - all 4 of them were present for the burning, Eileen would start putting distance between herself and those she could very well have to hunt down one day, while Djura would exile himself, possibly even fight with the others who don't seem to follow his reasoning. Still, my soft little heart says they "saw him off" before he went back down to Old Yharnam. And that was it. Djura still thinks about them, but even when the Hunter is with him he judges he has no right to ask about their whereabouts, that if he wants to know, he has to go back to the surface and see for himself. Of course, by the time the Hunter has pacified him, we know said whereabouts, so... bittersweetness all around :')

I also think he and Gascoigne fooled around back then. I mean there's the poetry of their opposed narratives, and also i've seen fanart of them that has rewired my brain. dilf4dilf

Here's a wip i'm hoping to finish of their wild wild youth :')

Valtr : I don't actually have anything for now but I need to think about it, since the bozo uses a Keg weapon. They could have met through Henryk 🤔

3. The Beasts ||

Albina (Blood-Starved Beast) : I haven't decided whether they did have a relationship, or if it was just Djura being smitten like the fool he is 😔 but either way they were good friends, and Djura tried to protect her all the way until her transformation. He still would be, but between the poison AOE and him looking suddenly very edible to her, he's somewhat limited.

Old Yharnam Beasts : implied just above - it's a hard-on headcanon that he is NOT safe from them either, something that I've briefly mentionned here. In fact, I think a beast is behind his missing eye, because i love irony :^) So, he protects them, but doesn't approach them.

4. The Church ||

The beasts down Old Y are no threat because there are no civils left to harm in their vicinity, unlike in the rest of Yharnam ; so Djura hates the Hunt, not necessarily the hunters, as long as they keep out of his turf. He's aware of the blood of his own hands, and is retired in name and quarry only. However, he knows who is reponsible for the Hunt and is twice as less patient with Church hunters - if they don't listen to his very first callout, he'll open fire without further ado.

Before the burning, he hunted like anyone else, with enthusiasm even, but the moment he realized that there were still human civils in the fray that had not been evacuated beforehand, and then that it had been intentional because ALL beasts were actually civils, hoo boy. At first he was too shocked processing that + the deaths of most Kegs, including Oto, but when sometimes later Laurence publicly announced the heresy of Kegs and Izzy... bro was ready to fistfight him LOL

i like to imagine that Laurence granted him audience, even showing him his own signs of transformation, only for Dju to tell him "I hope they burn you" SDFGHJKL somehow he was allowed to walk out alive, because getting blacklisted functionally made him unable to do anything - he was (almost) alone, had no proof to work with, everyone would call him crazy if he tried anything AND he was still monitored by the Church if he did try anything.

Regarding Ludwig, no specific feelings beyond overall disdain for carrying out Laurence's every order (when he's not listening to the so-called guidance of his magic sword... but Djura doesn't know that), which included leading the burning. There's definitely things to be said about Ludwig's "heroism" in such a corrupted institution, but again Djura doesn't know him enough to make a proper in-depth judgement (and that's not me saying I don't have a proper analysis yet either)

5. And last but not least... ||

The Good Hunter : well. On the one hand, there's canon and what I said about it already (pacifying him is not befriending him, and his general distrust towards us is part of the overall narrative, etc.). On the other hand, I crave those positive interactions and him being an unofficial tutor for our hunter, quiet conversations on the tower and less quiet ones in bed, perhaps with Brandr too because yes. To think he's one of the sanest characters and WILL make it to the ending if you don't go out of your way to kill him yourself... well, it wouldn't last anyway, even on good terms with the Hunter on a Sunrise ending - he'd refuse to leave Old Yharnam.

Those are all I can think about for now ! Which is already a lot sdfgh thank you for reading to the end, and again for asking :') Your tags are right, on our own damned blogs these posts should be spontaneous and not have to wait for an ask :'')

[cringelordofchaos]

help idk what to do

i want to write the tmf crackfic but idk where to start

im just not really feelings like writing rn? but i want to writebut i cant write bc idk what to wrrite and im too lazy to write

so, sincei have no critical thinking skills nor do i have independent thoughts illjust let anyone that sees this deciede through voting on the poll under the cut

MAJOR SPOILERS WARNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 fpr anyone that even wants to read it without spoilers. you might think "why would a poll about a CRACKfic need a spoiler warning" wellllll

(it will be multichapter, slightly angsty and story heavy)(or at least ill try)

YOURE TOTALLY FREE TO ADD SUGGESTIONS TO WHAT I COULD ADD TO THE CRACKFIC IM TOTALLY WILLING ON TALKING ABT IT MORE!!!!!!!!!!!

[roxyteal]

And we are back, with ever more ACNL shenanigans!!! (Long, God help me)

"Oh, nice. I hope you enjoy you time here. Oh, hold on. Apparently I just got a letter."

"Wow. Oh my God. Check this shit out, Phoebe. They're so fucking mad. Lmao. They just don't get it. Don't sweat it."

"That is quite the predicament."

"THE Billy... Thank you, that is an honor."

"You're welcome."

"I am aware that fish is Denied's department but... There was no time." "nah its ok you can have this one" "Oh, that's a relief."

"Whoa. Pretty."

"Mad coffee skills... If you are trying to buy my friendship with compliments... It's working. (This is a joke. I am not serious.)"

"Alice???"

"I uh. I forgot to screencap this but she's from. Uh. Hang on I have it in my notes somewhere. 'Overton'. Yeah, there. Anyway, if this is your Alice, she's here now."

"As you would say: 'git gud scrub'. 'skill issue'. 'rip you bozo'- (Help it's so hard not to laugh.)"

"Oh. Shit. Ok. Also, I think it's time to finally redecorate the Webspace. It's looked like a cluttered mess of shit long enough. Let's fucking go."

AN INDETERMINABLE AMOUNT OF TIME LATER...

"Ah. Another day has arrived. Though, I can't help but feel like something is... Different."

"Please bear with me, I understand that there wasn't much to share in terms of how things appeared, layout-wise. Just trust me when I say, 'Everything feels strange'. Here are (some of) the differences:

Along the east end was an orchard of every fruit. It is all gone. The police station has been moved to around that area.

This, uh, weather thing, was once near the event plaza, but it is now here.

Viktor's house is just below Retail. For some reason. I don't understand it.

A few PWPs have been moved closer to town hall.

There used to be a pond here, but it's gone. Completely. You can tell by the eerily large dirt circle. And there's a rock in its place.

The wisteria trellis has been taken to the exact opposite corner of the Webspace (south-east to north-west), and seasonal bushes have been rearranged.

Finally..."

"In place of Viktor's house's old location, is... This. I. I am at a loss. What is this for?"

"Thankfully, the boardwalk at the south remains (mostly) untouched. I think. I think I'm afraid. Is this the scope of Viktor's true power? Have I underestimated him? Have I been too hard on him? I need to calm down."

"That's a little better. But he will be hearing from me soon."

[agp]

i dont know how to share my confidence on anything honestly around here you know how it is. but its over. we won tabarnac. the communists win. i told opirg today. you dont need to dig very far to see how game over it is. we have world peace by christmas and i believe it for real. gg guys.

peace and love on planet ottawa! peace and love on turtle island! peace and love in palestine! we have negotiation tables in qatar again monday morning!! did that 20 million year old fossil in washington need a slap from his buddy justin or did this not even need to happen?

there are a lot of doors everywhere. there are a lot of keys everywhere. people love to just leave their keys everywhere, especially still in the ignition in this stupid city and im the biggest thief here. de toute facon comme jte disais..

the iron dome has security measures. i have good reason to believe i am aware of a particular security vulnerabilty on the israeli side and ive been telling everyone to change their passwords forever you know how crazy it is out there.

i shared a particular code with an antizionist mensch that has been coming to the solidarity demonstrations held every weekend in ottawa since netenyahu and his genocidal regime escalated the situation to a war months ago last october. i shared other strategic victory plans with the pym and they all know where to find each other.

ill go bug embassy security about nonsense at 3am on my way back from the bar if anyones around. its warm as shit out here this month idk they might be out for a smoke or something. its not like the palestinians have much of an equivalent but im in the market so yall know exactly where i wanna go.

long story but my favourite tree in town survived the two years of peace i gave canada and the rest of the world from my bullshit! i think qatar or some other gulf state is building its embassy around it. i want to convince them to save this thing and integrate it into their design so bad. her name is grandmother acab!! forreal guys. if theres another close favourite its the apple tree near the aviation museum that fruits like a maniac. im just too shy to bug the ppl at city hall about it if they already offered it to another gulf state in that alley (the japanese and south korean embassies arent far either, its just behind global affairs lmao).

i wanted to play more concerts in that field with my friends. as far as i can tell mitski and lady lamb are interested in playing there again. i need to hit them up when shit gets less crazy again. i dont even know if they realized this was communist bullshit and theyre americans lmao.

its been left to fallow for sooo long and its one of my favourite spots in town. ive offered to kill suicidal friends there before idk. its very sacred to me. and im so glad the bulldozing hasnt started yet really. the shit they did down by the marina and the path down to the kichi zibi (ottawa/great river) from the north end of lowertown hurt me sooo much my god. i was scared i lost so much more behind the mint too dear lord.

sorry for making the good news so long and silly tonight. i need to hustle more responsibly lol. ily all. if i dont see you again good morning good afternoon and goodnight bozos! this truman show with the rcmp bugging my life needs to stop already. check out lady lamb! sound of the summer!

with solidarity and friendship,

audrey, jeanne, and friends

miigwetch

[wellthatwasaletdown]

I will always believe Jeff befriended him with the sole purpose of making him his first solo client.// I think opposite. Harry sneaked into him and family cause he wanted to go solo and use them. His every move and friendship is calculated. (I have crazy theory that he calculated his rs but that is different story. Not that he faked they justt... they came at right time with right persons. Taylor for gp, Kendall for being there, Camille for indie, quirky narrative, OW for wide public, little scandal to be remembered for and perfect TR to settle down after crazy bitch)

Anyway, Jeff and Harry are simmilar so it worked both ways. But Harry was known for making friendship with older men who could help (Ben, James, Alessandro). Jeff is just nepo

And Papa Azoff sent Jeff in to befriend Harry Edward Styles. Y'all are acting like Jeff was some bozo off the streets. He needed a sure thing to launch his solo management career. Harry Edward Styles was ripe for the picking. He would have had no use for Jeff at that point. Jeff was with CAA. He was just another agent amongst a sea of agents trying to woo the boys.

But for Jeff, Harry Edward Styles was the springboard for Full Stop Management, but he needed to be there when Harry Edward Styles made the move to go solo. He brought Harry Edward Styles to the company, and Little Tommy brought Meghan Trainor, who was also really big back then.

[grizzledyoungimpact]

Whumptober Day 11

Prompt #11: Betrayal Pairing: CM Punk/Dia Banks (OC) Mentions Of: Colt Cabana, Bash Ryland (OC), Cassidy Cabana (OC) Verse: Main

The definition of insanity was allowing yourself to do the same thing over and over again, but expecting a different result each time. Dia Banks was very familiar with that saying. Each time 𝒉𝒆 had come back into her life, she had always acted as if he were going to change. Each time, 𝒉𝒆 had shown to her that there was no chance he was a different man.

It was the greatest trick the Devil ever pulled, after all, and each time Phil Brooks showed up in her life, Dia allowed the devil to lie to her just a little bit more.

It was why she was so angry that she allowed herself to show up to this dinner, after being sent a text from an unknown number, simply giving her the name of the pizza place in Chicago. After seeing the name of the restaurant, she didn't need to know anything else. The last time she had been there was during her training as a member of the Second City Saints. Everything in Dia told her to tell her Colt where she was going, to tell her Bash where she was going.

There was a betrayal in the fact that she hadn't told them where she was headed.

Dia 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 she shouldn't be here right now. She knew even as she moved towards the little table in the back, the same table she had once met Phil at early on in her early career without the rest of the Saint's knowledge, that she shouldn't be here. There he sat, hat pulled down low and playing on his phone. How dare he look so peaceful, especially in this light. How 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒆 he text her to come to this place that had once meant so much to the two of them. Had Brawl Out meant nothing? Had the way he humiliated both her and her son not been enough to sour her on the man?

And then he looked up at her with that boyish smirk, playing with the lip ring between his teeth, "Hey Di."

Dia slid into the seat across from Phil, "What do you want? What could you possibly want?"

Phil reached across the table, placing a hand on hers with a charming smile, "C'mon, Di. Don't be like this."

She drew in a sharp and slow breath, "Be like what? Be worried that this is all a trick from you?"

HIs eyes scanned to the bag next to him and the smirk on his lips was a little more sinister, "A trick? Diamond, you know me better than that."

"I know you well enough to know that's the kinda man you are," Dia blanched at the use of her real name, quickly pulling her hand away from him. Gods he was so 𝒇𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈. A waiter brought two drinks to the table, along with a full size pizza. A small smile took her lips, before she banished it, "How did-"

"Mt. Dew and an Italian special," Phil smirked as he stole a piece for himself, "it's the same thing we ordered the first time we came here. People don't change, Di. They just get better at hiding their spots."

A flash of recognition hit Dia as she took the first bite of pizza. Phil's eyes had glanced to that red bag again and Dia felt uneasy. What was in there? What was he hiding from her? "Cass changed. Since he started hanging around Adam, he-"

"He hasn't changed. He still hasn't told you the truth," Phil shrugged one shoulder, "I guess we've had enough chit-chat, huh? I came to warn you."

"Warn me?" Dia raised an eyebrow before sipping her drink, "About what?"

"In this bag," Phil began, scooting back to tap the rep bag next to him, "is something that will ruin your sons reign. I'm gonna tell the world at Collision. I at least wanted to give you a fighting chance. You keep pushing yourself down to make him happy, to make the bozos you've married be happy. Fuck that, Diamond. Fight with-"

Dia gestured for a waiter and asked for a to-go box before she dared look back at Phil. There it was, a betrayal like only Phil was capable of. He could build her up so high, make her feel so good about their friendship, then take her down just as quickly. "My family is my pride and joy. I gave you the benefit of the doubt, Phil. And yet here we go again. My answer is fuck you."

[didhewinkback]

Reread something old (again oops) and can't find the birthday boy blurb, the link gets me out of the app and if I search directly on your blog it doesn't appear. Anyway, was YN the first call Harry made to announce the big 1D break? How did she get along with the boys when she was on tour during the summers? Would she hang out with Gemma too when both of them were in London getting closer over their shared love of Harry/missing him?

omg thank u for rereading !! the link is still working for me ? so idk whats happening with that. i'll tag it as birthday boy also so hopefully it appears then ! ill answer your questions after the jump to not clog the dash however one thing i need to say here and now is that mc and gemma have been family friends since they were kids and their friendship and lives do not revolve around harry pls enjoy my LONG answers to ur questions below:

1d break: they had been having a lot of late night phone calls across the pond about the state of the band since zayn left / talked about it in person whenever he was home and she was on break from uni, so she knew he was making moves and things were on the horizon and he was feeling so overworked, tired and creatively stuck, in need of something new. when it was officially officially announced, he gave his family the heads up first and then let her know with a "looks like we're both graduating this year" text and she went to their london show and obvi she was at the last show in that act my age conga

the boys: she wouldn't be at the tours for more than 2 weeks at most during the summer, and usually was with gemma or johnny hanging out with them or members of the crew. she got along with all of them quite well, they were very familiar with her and comfortable around her but got along best with niall, he'd join them on some late night adventures sometimes, always up for a laugh. there was one year she flew over by herself & harry was poorly one night but he refused to let her stay in with him, so she and niall hit up the bars together even though neither of them were legally allowed to drink in the us yet, sending selfies to harry with every new drink they had much to his annoyance. they don't really keep in touch anymore apart from the occasional instagram story reply, but he did make a point to message her after he and harry hung out 2 years ago saying he was buzzing that they were finally together and he hopes he can see her soon

gemma: she and gemma have been family friends since they were neighbors when she was 6, though she was always closer to harry obviously, she and gemma grew closer as they got older and the gap between their ages felt much less significant than it had at 11 and 15. they both went to uni in london and would meet up every few months to catch up. their lives and friendship don't revolve around harry though he comes up in conversation, but they're never hanging out because he's not there and they've got nothing better to do. she was quite nervous to see gemma for their first solo hang since the wedding, harry really wanted to come with but she knew she had to do this bit on her own. it was several months after the wedding was called off, just after christmas time when they told their families they were together and she was bloody nervous about it, prepared to get reamed only for gemma to hug her the second she saw her saying "i always, always wanted it to be you" before doing the classic styles smirk, "i just figured you two stubborn bozos would never get your shit together." and now gemma is very much in the loop with the engagement, she's harrys right hand woman, but she's the best secret keeper in the family and you haven't a clue

[easypeasylindyvesey]

I Think it’s Strange We Never Knew: Jimmy Vesey x fem!OC

Summary: After the unforeseen death of Abby’s boyfriend, one of the NHL’s star defenseman and her teammate, she severely struggles with managing her grief. She confides in Jimmy Vesey, who is not only another teammate of hers, but is one of the very few people she has a strong friendship with. That is until that night and the days that followed. Does this life-altering news change the trajectory of their personal perceptions of each other? Or does it entail a chance of crossing boundaries for the risk of moving on?

Word Count: 7,676

*(General) Warnings: (foul) language, mentions/discussion of death, suicide attempt (brief, closed door description), eventual confession of feelings, grief, panic attack(s), angst, eventual sexual implications but no smut, age gap

*Note: This story takes place in the future. Abby is 24-25 and Jimmy is 33-35.

SEPTEMBER 2027 (Warnings: (foul) language, mentions of death, angst if you squint, jimmy beginning his emotionally unavailable era)

This is the time of year where you feel like you’re mourning the loss of something you never had. For me, it’s always been the end of summer, the end of all things relaxation and the beginning of the hecticness. Everything goes too fast. You just wish it would slow down in just the slightest. The uncertainty of the future gnaws at my brain pretty much all the time. The red and yellow does not illuminate on the traffic light. It’s only green. And it never changes.

Preseason has already begun, and everyone on the roster rotates throughout each game. Tonight is the third game out of six. While Jimmy and the other selected guys had to take the train down to Prudential Center, I get to sit in the apartment on the couch, alone, verbalizing my thoughts without anyone hearing me (well, that’s as long as I don’t yell too loudly). If I’m being truthful, I am secretly grateful that he and I were not placed in the same group for these games. It’s nice to have a break. And I’m not saying this because I’m sick of him; more on the fact that both of us are in desperate need of socialization that doesn’t involve the other. We’re less dependent on each other. It’s as if we’re circling back to where we once were.

Then again, where were we to begin with?

Oh, right. The lip-locking.

No, we have not had another incident since. And no, we haven’t acted on impulse for even attempting a replication at it. We’re back to our awkward, unhinged selves. No bickering, no teasing that could be mistaken as flirting, no nothing. I sent him a text earlier wishing him luck and to not take it too seriously. He had the audacity to reply: 

I’m wearing an A tonight. You best believe my ass I will🤑

I replied back:

you’re not even getting paid bozo

He replied:

Well in this case you’re paying your time to watch me.

I replied:

get over 10 min TOI and then we’ll talk

He responded back:

Just don’t get a noise complaint.

I laugh. Typing back, I write:

i will when you execute your move of missing the net and then i curse the most amount of expletives known to man

Another text comes through:

You already do that on a regular basis

To which I answer:

and i’m damn well proud of it

He sends another:

Gotta go. Train leaves at 10, probs won’t be back till 11 or a little after. Don’t wait up if you’re that tired.

I end it:

i will so you can listen to my analytic response.

Or so I thought I ended it.

He answers back:

Don’t need a reiteration if I end up playing like shit

I roll my eyes, typing:

you’re gonna be fine. pre doesn’t matter anyway. just give it 110% like you always do💛

And finally, it ends:

Jokes on you. I give it 150.

I toss my phone on the couch, scoffing at his antics. I reach for the remote and turn up the volume. I’ve got a blanket, a warm bowl of fettuccine alfredo, and the group chat notifications on for those who aren’t playing tonight to discuss the game unbeknownst to the others. It’s gonna be a fun evening.

—------

The evening was far from fun. They lost 3-2 in a shootout. Overall, they had a really good game, but they just couldn’t capitalize for long increments of time. Jimmy ended up proving himself wrong. He played quite well. Did he miss the net? In fact, he did.

On a motherfucking breakaway.

The camera zoomed in on his frustration after he got denied, and all I could do was dramatically groan “Jesus Christ!” out loud, punching the pillow next to me and immediately going to the group chat and sending a text to express my displeasure toward that failed chance: what the fuck was that😭. Of course, it’s all jokes. It always is. 

I didn’t text him after because I’m sure he knows I’ll still be waiting up for him to get back, and while he might not be in the mood to talk, let alone have the mental stability to hold a conversation, he’ll know I only tried because I genuinely care.

I’m lying down on the couch, resting my head on the pillow and the blanket engulfing my entire body, putting on “Family Feud” as background noise while I scroll though my phone, checking for anything remotely interesting to look at.

The upper half of my body jolts as I hear the sound of a key being entered through the lock and the door quietly squeaking its way open. Heavy footsteps make their presence known on the wooden floor, the door being closed and the latch hanging across. A presumably exhausted sigh fills the space, the sound of a bag being dropped near the chair. 

I’m watching the TV when I hear Jimmy open the fridge and say something. “Ten twenty two.”

I keep my eyes fixated, but he doesn’t see my face contort in confusion. “What?”

The fridge door shuts, and I hear his footsteps glide across the floor and onto the carpet, sitting down in the chair angled toward the TV. He’s holding a water bottle in his hand. “My ice time tonight.”

I nod tiredly. “At least it wasn’t single digits.”

“At least I didn’t get benched the last period.”

I turn my face to look up at him. “Why the hell would you ever be benched?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. There’s always someone better.”

I roll my eyes. “No one is better than anyone. You’re all great in your own way. Christ’s sake, Jim, please don’t tell me you actually think that.”

“Can’t help it sometimes.”

He sounds so defeated that it actually makes me sad. It gives me the willpower to sit up and turn off the TV, placing the remote on the coffee table and ripping the blanket off me. I sit slouched with my head resting in the palms of my hands. “If you were not good, you would have never, ever made it to the pros. I don’t fucking care you’re a bottom sixer. You know your role and you stick to it. You worked your ass off tonight.”

Jimmy looks down at his shoes. “You not gonna say anything about the breakaway?”

I roll my eyes. “Forget it. You missed. Big deal. It’s not like you sent Twitter into a frenzy.”

He cracks that half smirk, half smile. “Sure you had something to say about it, though.”

I run my hands down my face, rubbing my eyes underneath my glasses. “Where the hell is this coming from?”

He leans back in the chair, casually manspreading, if you will. He looks up at the ceiling. “I think it’s all the pressure we’re gonna have this year to perform well. It’s starting to affect me now, like, if there’s any showings of inconsistency, it’s gonna drag the whole team down, and then God forbid we don’t go to playoffs, everyone’s just gonna blame certain people for spoiling the chance. I don’t want that on my conscience, Abb. I really don’t.”

I sigh, looking at his side profile that’s still pointed upwards. “Hey, I totally get it. Seriously, I do. There have been times where I’ve had a rough game and then I had to make sure the next one was an improvement, and if not, I’d believe everyone would start coming after me. You’re allowed to have a bad night. It happens to all of us. We’re not gonna win every game, but we go out and die trying.”

His eyes return back to a noticeable level, staring into mine. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

I stand up and leave the blanket, phone in hand, walking over to his side and resting my hand on his shoulder, giving it the slightest squeeze to show my support. “You are enough,” I tell him, looking into his eyes. It’s only now that I realize how long his eyelashes are, how aligned and straight they present themselves. “Okay? Don’t go to bed with that mentality. Take a shower and wash it off.”

“I already took a shower,” Jimmy says quietly.

“So then go change and get some sleep,” I suggest. “Unless you wanna talk about it. I can get coffee going if it’s really something you need to get off your chest.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’ll pass. I think once we’ve all adjusted, it won’t feel like such a huge weight.” He starts to unbutton the cufflinks on his button down. “Thanks, though.”

I rub my thumb on his shoulder, removing my hand as he motions to stand up. “Always, James.” I smile as I head for my room.

Jimmy scoffs, his shoes once again clicking on the hardwood. “The fuck is wrong with you, Abigail?”

I stop in my tracks and turn around to look at him. I’m inches from my door. “Nobody calls me that.”

“Maybe I’ll be the first person to do so.” He squeezes past me to enter his room. “I mean, it is your actual name.”

“Yeah, but I don’t like it.”

“Why not?”

“The same reason you don’t like being called James.”

I can already see him slowly closing his door. “And who said that?”

I pretend to think about my answer. “Uh, you?”

He smiles. “Nice try. Get outta here.”

I stick my face out at him. “I gladly will. Sweet dreams.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters sarcastically, clicking the door shut. Before I forget, I head back to the entryway to turn off the light. It’s almost pitch black when I’m making my way back. I’m on the cusp of entering past the door when I hear the thud of what sounds like a belt, and an “Oh, fuck” escape Jimmy’s lips.

I stay hanging near my door. “You okay?” I say loud enough so he can hear me.

“Yeah,” he says behind the door. “Just, uh, just sore.”

“There’s an unopened bottle of ibuprofen in the top cabinet,” I tell him, “in case you needed one.”

“I’m gonna need, like, 50,” he jokes. “Nah, I’ve got some in my bag.”

“Which is still out in the kitchen,” I remind him.

I hear a groan. “Fuck’s sake. Can you get that for me?”

I walk the short distance into the kitchen and grab the gear bag, lifting it securely in my hand before approaching his door. “Got it.”

The door opens and he’s changed into a navy blue shirt and plaid pajama pants, his bed already unmade. He takes the bag from me. “Thank you.” The door looks to be closing again. “Good night.” It clicks shut again. I’m finally able to have full access to my room, shutting the door, staring at nothing in the dark. I make my way over to my bed, crawling in and taking off my glasses, putting them down on my nightstand table and putting my phone in the charger, flipping it case side up and sinking into the coziness of my sheets. I can’t help but wonder if Jimmy’s pain, both figurative and literal, is starting to take hold.

I can’t help but wonder if I should start to be afraid.

—------------

The first official rainy day of fall luckily happens on the day where there isn’t a game. There’s no worrying about driving up to the rink, or even having to go out at all. I stand out on the balcony in my slippers, breathing in the chilly, raw air. Of course, chilly at this rate is around 60 degrees, but it’s better than consistent 85-90 degree days where you have to crank the AC. The sight of wet leaves on the pavement and the light panging of the rain on the window calms me down. All I need to fit the vibe is a hot drink in my hand.

Walking back into my room and out into the kitchen, I feel a shiver run down my spine. It’s evident that Jimmy notices as he’s pouring coffee from the Keurig into two mugs. “Oh, you didn’t just get sick, did you?” It looks like static electricity has taken over his hair.

I grab the blue and white striped mug in front of me and drag it across the countertop. “That would be your dream, wouldn’t it?” I take a quick zip to lower the chances of burning my tongue.

He shakes his head. “Actually, it’d be the opposite.”

I place the mug back down. “Let’s just say I’d probably handle it better than you.”

He lifts his own mug to his mouth, then pauses. “What do you mean by that?”

I move my eyes from side to side. “You know, the whole stereotype that men act like babies when they’re sick. I’m not sure if I can affiliate myself with that.”

Jimmy lets out a shortened laugh. “Well, all I have to do is take some Tylenol and drink enough water and snore several times a day. Before you know it, I’m back on my feet.”

I tilt my head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sick.”

He finishes sipping his coffee. “I was sick last year. Remember? It was the game before Christmas break. Whole bunch of us had to sit out because of the stomach bug. I didn’t end up getting it.”

A confused look makes way onto my face. “But you just said you were sick.”

“I was,” he reiterates. “I didn’t actually catch the bug, like, throwing up constantly and stuff like that. It was basically just chills and nausea, which, believe me, did not feel good. Thank goodness for Pepto Bismol.”

I laugh. “So, what, you just laid on the couch all day?”

“Pretty much,” he replies. “Watched the game, though. Still managed to pull out the win.”

“Sucks you weren’t there to actually celebrate,” I say. “All of your absences were definitely noticeable.”

“Good to know.” He sets his mug down. “Did you even miss any games at all last year? I’m sure I always heard your voice around one way or another.”

I’m trying so hard not to blush. “Honestly, I think I had grade A attendance.”

“Seriously?” Even he can’t believe it. “All 82?”

I nod, smiling. “The key is to not get hurt or sick.”

“Now why didn’t I think about that?” He taps his fingers on the countertop. “And yet, you still weren’t nominated.”

I shrug. ‘I don’t care about that. I don’t need an award to prove I’m good. And neither do you. We’ve been able to showcase our ability without a shiny trophy.”

“It’s not even the shiny trophy that’d mean the most,” he tells me, winking.

The blushing is noticeable now. “Yeah, well, who knows when that’s gonna happen?”

“It will.”

“Yeah, but it’s all a matter of when. We can’t just sit around, waiting for it.”

“That’s what this year is for.”

I drag my fingers along the mug handle. “I just want us to have a good year,” I tell Jimmy. “Forget postseason for a minute. I’m more than okay with a good regular. We’re already gonna have a target on our backs, you know, from the media and everything, about how this year is different for obvious reasons and what we’re gonna change and blah blah blah. I can already predict the antagonizing questions we’re gonna be asked.” I lift up my mug to take another sip. “I’m ready to tell them I’m declining.”

A soft chuckle elicits through his mouth. “They’re definitely gonna give us a run for our money.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ll just tell them to put it where their mouths are.” I jump off the chair and walk over to the sink, rinsing out my mug and washing it out with dish soap and the soap pad. I turn to look at Jimmy, who’s leaning against the island. “Seriously, though. I’m not gonna have time for their bullshit.”

“Of course you won’t,” he agrees, “but you gotta remember they’re just doing their job.”

I sigh. “Yeah, I know, but some of their questions make my ears bleed. Here I am, sitting in my stall after a shit game, and the first thing they’re gonna ask me is what went wrong. Why don’t you tell me that?”

“I know it’s just stating the obvious, but that’s what they’re trained to do. You can’t give it away on your face that it’s a bad question, though.”

My face scrunches up. “I don’t do that.”

He whistles quietly, looking out at the window, watching the leaves fall from the trees, courtesy of the wind. “Hate to break the news, Abb, but you do. You have a tell.”

I let out a laugh, placing my clean mug back in the cabinet. “I do not.”

“You zone out past the cameras and then add a scoff for the extra flair.” He gives me a smirk in return.

“Sorry I don’t hide my irritation that well,” I retort. “I’m waiting as to who’s gonna ask a question about Ryan. That’s when I’ll break their neck.”

“I can totally see you doing that.”

“Yeah, just don’t piss me off and I won’t have to,” I reply back, smiling.

“You ain’t gotta worry about me, though,” Jimmy says, moving to the sink to rinse his mug out. I step back toward the pantry to give him space. I didn’t even realize I was still standing there.

“I know I don’t,” I tell him. “You’ll be up and ready to defend me.”

“Like always,” he replies. “Hell, maybe I’ll even sneak a bit of attitude in there.”

I expose a sly smile. “Time to bring out the Boston bitchiness.”

He laughs. “I mean, I don’t consider myself to be rude, but hey, I’m just like you, in terms of needing to act that way in certain situations.” He looks at me. “That includes telling off the press, not by giving them an attitude, but more of just trying to steer the conversation in another direction.”

I pretend to analyze what Jimmy just said. “Now I know why you won the Good Guy award, like, three years ago,” I tease.

“And now I know why you’ll never win the Lady Byng,” he retorts back.

“The Lady Byng is a scam anyway,” I claim. “It’s basically an award given to the one player that was always cooperative with the media and blah blah blah. There are a bunch of guys that could easily win it and they still don’t even end up getting a nomination.”

“Like who?”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t know,” I say, shrugging. “This guy named James Vesey or something. I hear he’s the politest man you’ll ever meet. He loves having the cameras and microphones shoved in his face, pretending he’s some sort of movie star when he’s just subject to the last line on his team.”

He just stares at me.

“Oh, and don’t forget he never plays close to 11 minutes per game,” I continue on. “Basically getting paid to sit on the bench. At this rate, he should just be sent down to the minors if he’s not gonna average a decent amount of time over the span of a week’s schedule.”

He still doesn’t answer, and for a moment, I’m wondering if I accidentally roasted him a little too much.

But by the saving grace of God, I watch his dorky smile appear, flashing the tiniest bit of teeth. “This is why you’ll never be a reporter,” he says, walking past me and into the bathroom.

I follow him like a lost puppy and stand outside the door, watching him lift his toothbrush from the cup and cover the bristle in toothpaste before running it underneath the water and inserting it into his mouth, moving it around from side to side. “I could never be a reporter,” I defend myself. “Some of their questions can be so stupid that I feel like I’m being transported to another planet.”

“True,” I hear him say while brushing his teeth. I’m surprised he keeps all of the toothpaste in his mouth. I took him as the type of person to let it escape at some point and have it dribble down his chin. However, there’s already a lot of things he’s proven me wrong about. I’m sure there’s more that I’ll discover in the future.

I turn away and look toward my room so he can somewhat have privacy when rinsing. He stands back up from leaning over the sink and turns off the light. “No more coffee breath,” he says. “Wanna smell?”

I make eye contact with his skeptical looking face. “You want me to smell your mouth?” I make what I hope looks to be a repulsed face. “Absolutely not.”

Jimmy puts his hand on his hip. “Damn, such a weenie.”

“I am not,” I argue. “I already found out how it tasted. I don’t need to fall into another trap like that.”

His eyebrow pulls away from above his eye. “A trap?”

“Yeah,” I mutter.

A lightbulb pops up over his head, fluorescent light illuminating on all sides. “We agreed it was just a one time thing.”

“And it is,” I tell him. “I just want to make sure you’re reminded of that before you start making jokes.”

“Fine,” Jimmy says. “I’ll go on and pretend it never happened, like it didn’t mean a thing.”

“Good. Didn’t mean a damn thing to me either.”

That familiar feeling of awkward silence infiltrates its way throughout the apartment.

“Anyway,” I say, stepping back toward my bedroom door, “what are you doing with your day?”

“Well, I’m definitely not going out,” he says, gesturing toward the window. “Honestly, I have no idea.”

“You think it’s too early to turn on the fireplace?” I throw out as a suggestion.

“It’s never too early,” he tells me, sending another wink my way.

I furrow an eyebrow. “See? You just want another replica, don’t you?”

“Abb, we just had this conversation,” Jimmy exasperates, rolling his eyes. “Who’s the one trying to rile me up now?”

I give him a proud smirk. “Now that is what I call a trap.” I head toward my room.

“And what are you doing with your day?” He calls after me.

“Nothing involving fire,” I respond, shutting the door, hoping I don’t hear his footsteps quickly approach.

For now, he remains in the kitchen, and I look around my room, unsure of how to occupy my time. It’s too early to start lounging in front of the TV. Hands on my hips, I scan every inch of wall, coming up with a plan.

When I’ve finally thought of one, I walk over to my closet and open the door. I’ve decided on cleaning out my summer clothes. You know, tank tops, dresses, shorts, sandals, the whole shebang. The only issue I might have is figuring out where to store all of it. I didn’t bring any storage containers while moving in. I lugged everything back in boxes. That was poor planning on my part.

I open my door and walk back into the kitchen to see that Jimmy has disappeared. I turn around and find his bedroom door cracked open. I quickly knock on it before I just barge in, because well, that would be rude.

Fortunately, I hear his voice perk up. “Yeah?”

I open up the door all the way and slowly trudge in, watching him prop up the pillows on the bed. “Do you by any chance happen to have storage containers lying around?”

He puts down the last of his two pillows and looks at me with a questionable face. “I don’t believe so, no. You can check in the closet if you want.”

Feeling the tiniest bit hopeful, I open up his closet door and peak inside, looking around in the dark. All I see are shirts and sweatshirts on hangers, suit jackets on hangers, button downs on hangers…you see where I’m going with this.

On the shelf above lie his neatly folded dress pants, sweats, all of that shit. I don’t know how he’s able to fit all of that and stack it without it tumbling down every time the door opens. And I, for one, would prefer to not test that theory.

Right below his main line of clothes, there’s some decorative storage boxes. He’s got some filled with trophies and plaques, others with hats, and one with what looks to be Christmas decorations. Well, at least I know he’s not boring when it comes to celebrating holidays.

And then I notice a tiny cardboard box. It looks like there’s a bunch of miscellaneous stuff just thrown in there. I guess the feeling of having to actually organize something freaks him out.

I peak in a little closer, and my heart skips the slightest of beats.

I see the pamphlet from Ryan’s funeral service, along with the memorial card.

I see the knife he pointed at me. He probably “got rid of it” so he could fool me into thinking it was still out in the kitchen somewhere.

This one makes me grip on the closet frame to prevent myself from falling.

The razor.

My eyes widen to the point where I feel they’re going to pop out of their sockets.

He kept it?

Why would he do that?

My initial thought would be Wow, okay, yeah, he’s got some serious issues. Now that I can somewhat think a little more clearly, it would only be rational to think It’s true he does, in fact, hold a grudge.

Abby, don’t even think about it.

I see a large piece of what I thought was paper stick out of the bottom. I turn around in hopes that I don’t get caught snooping. Technically, it’s not, since I’m not rearranging anything, but I don’t want to have another meaningless argument with him.

He’s not in here, probably stepped out into the kitchen or something. I make it very quick. Just a quick peak.

I wiggle the initially thought paper out of the bottom of the box. Only it’s not paper.

It’s a sympathy card.

Because my brain can’t stop myself, I open it. I scan the right side of the card.

Dear Jimmy,

We are so sorry to have heard the news about Ryan. We know that he was an incredibly valued teammate and friend. The tragedy itself is just terrible, perhaps close to being indescribable. You’ll probably receive this by the time of the funeral, so by what you told us about Abby staying with you for the time being, please, just be patient with her. She’s grieving this loss too, in a way that she once saw as impossible. Give her space, don’t force a conversation that both you and her know doesn’t need to be had, look after her, see if anything starts to change. She’s going to need a lot of help, and the fact she chose you is nothing short of an honor, when she could’ve chosen anyone else. It’ll be a long, difficult road, and it is painful now, but believe us when we say it will get easier. Let Abby know that, too. Reassure her. Just be there for her. She might not be able to express it right now, but we know deep down she is grateful to have you by her side. Tragedy brings people together. It doesn’t matter how, but it always does. Sometimes, it brings people together in the way you’d last expect. Keep that in mind. 

We’re always a phone call away if you need anything. We love you, always.

Love,

Mom & Dad

I shove the card back in the box, staring at the storage containers. This is a shrine.

It’s my shrine.

It’s a shrine he made to hold all of his grudges instead of actually talking to me.

And I never knew.

Lucky for me, I’ve started to grow thicker skin. I shut the closet door and turn around again. He’s still not here. Did he leave and not tell me?

I quietly walk across the carpet and out the door, turning into the kitchen/living room area. Completely empty.

I turn back around and pop my head in the bathroom. I shouldn’t have even bothered because the lights are off.

My last resort is my own room. I take several steps in, looking all the way up, down, and around. I even walk past the curtains to look out at the balcony. Nowhere to be seen.

“Fucking hell, where are you?” I mutter under my breath. I walk back out to the kitchen. His phone is on the countertop. But his keys aren’t.

At this point, it’s a lost cause to even predict where he is. 

Before I can even get a prediction in, the door unlocks and he emerges through the doorway. He’s carrying two large storage containers. “You couldn’t find any in there?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

But I did find something else.

Jimmy places the containers on the floor. “Well, I went down to the laundry room and found some unused ones.” He looks at them intently. “They’re in decent shape.”

I take a step back. “The laundry room has containers?”

He shrugs. “Guess so. Will 2 be enough? I can always go back down and grab another one if you’ll need more storage.”

It’s my turn to pick up the containers. “That’s something I can do, don’t worry about it.” I try to look at him over the lid. “Thanks, though.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it. You need any help?”

My brain quickly short circuits.

‘She’s going to need a lot of help, and the fact she chose you is nothing short of an honor, when she could’ve chosen anyone else.’

I sigh contently. “Yeah, actually, if you don’t mind. You wanna take the top container and just bring it to my room?”

He walks over and lifts the container off the other one, holding the handles in his hands. “Sure thing,” he says, moving past me.

I follow him with the other container and re-enter my room. He’s placed the container on the bed. I’d rather have it on the floor, but in all fairness, I didn’t tell him where to put it, so I follow suit and put my container down next to the other one.

Walking over to my closet, I start taking everything off the hangers and pile it all on one arm, turning back to the containers and opening the lid with my free hand. I move them over to the side to make space for my clothes and start folding, placing it inside and stacking it neatly.

I decided to have one container for my shirts and dresses and the other for my shorts and extra sweatshirts I had due to the A.C. always blasting. That container is filled before I can squeeze in the last of my shirts. I lift the side handles to keep it shut and lift it off the bed, placing it down in the back of my closet.

Jimmy turns around from looking out at the balcony, watching the rain continue to pitter patter on the sliding doors. “You forgot about that one,” he points to the bed.

I stare down at the dress I wore out to our dinner at the vineyard. “I didn’t forget,” I tell him. “I’m gonna get rid of it.”

His face transitions into confusion. “What? Why?”

I stare down at my feet on the carpet. “I don’t know. Just don’t really like it too much.”

“I like it.”

I lift my head back up. “You do?”

He rolls his eyes. “Abb, I told you that.”

“No, you said that Ryan would’ve loved the dress. You never said anything about you liking it.”

I hear a nervous gulp make its way down his throat. “Well, I’ll repeat myself in case you didn’t hear me the first time, which you obviously did. I like that dress.”

I move my eyes from side to side. “Thanks,” I say meekly.

“Besides, you could save it for casino night or something.”

“No, I’m planning on getting a different dress for that. This one’s too bland.”

“It’s not.”

“It’s definitely not meant to last an entire night, either.”

Both his eyebrows shoot up. “What, what do you-”

“Like, I can’t wear it for four, maybe five hours or it’s gonna start irritating me. The straps start digging into you and it’s not like I can just let them hang or anything.”

I can see a sense of relief wash over his face. He thought I meant it another way. Well, that’s true too.

“It’s too tight on me as it is, anyway. I’m sure another woman could fit into it better.”

He continues looking at me, a hint of dissatisfaction in what I’m saying.

“But at the same time, it’s too big. A size 6 makes it bulge out everywhere.”

“Abb.” He stops me from speaking. “I think you pull it off pretty well.”

I fail to match his energy and shrug my shoulders. “Eh.” I lift it off the bed and fold it neatly, placing it on my throw blanket.

“You do.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” he deadpans.

Given the tone of his voice, I can’t help but think if maybe when he helped me with the zipper that night, he dragged it all the way down. He could’ve easily danced his fingers across my back. He could’ve gently pushed the straps off to each side of my shoulder. He could’ve guided me back into him, into his own body, me already a third of the way naked in front of him at his own expense. He could’ve reached his way inside and placed his hands anywhere he pleased, hoping to get a reaction out of me.

But he didn’t.

Only because he wanted to be respectful.

And now, after the kiss, I’m sure past occurrences of what’s deemed as “helping out a friend” was just a warmup for having to help me out of my own clothes.

Am I overthinking it? Yes.

Do I have a valid reason? No.

I shove the thought to the back of my mind and regain the focus on Jimmy, who’s now leaning against the dresser. “It’s up to you,” he says. “I just don’t know why’d you wanna waste an outfit like that.”

I sit on my bed, my right leg dangling off it. “Because I just don’t like it anymore.”

“And how could that possibly be?”

“Because it’s not me!” I shout. I didn’t mean to. It’s a heat of the moment thing.

I stare down at my hand grabbing onto my comforter. I look up to see him crossing his arms, staring out past the door.

I scoff. “God, why are we getting so worked up over a dress?”

He doesn’t respond.

“You know what? Fine. I’ll keep it.” I stand up, folded dress in hand, only for it to slightly tilt and undo itself. I wave it in front of him, holding both straps around one hand and motioning back to the closet, opening the door back up and reaching in to drag out my shirts and dresses container, opening the lid and placing it in on the very top before shutting it and pushing the container back until it hits the wall. I shut the door again. “Now you know where to find it,” I snap back. “Feel free to cut the straps.”

I turn around only for hands to grip me at the curve of my elbows and push me back against the closet, eliciting a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. I look up to see him staring down at me. It’s not a feeling I enjoy.

I do my best to look past him. This is like what happened in the bathroom, only with the tiniest amount of worked up nerves. I happened to get on his last one, apparently.

He pins me to the closet as he steps forward, invading what’s left of my space. He moves his head down to my level and rotates his mouth to line up with my ear. “I wasn’t gonna admit it that night,” he whispers, a tinge of anger present in his voice, “but I somewhat stumbled over my words because I thought you looked incredibly sexy.” His breath bounces off my ear, and I can feel my knees somewhat bend. 

“But now that everything’s changed,” he rasps, “I can admit that now. I’d love for you to wear it again.”

I swallow. “When?”

“Anytime you want.” His voice sounds like melted butter, all smooth and strung out. “Keep it for me, yeah?”

“I, uh, I don’t know-”

“He might’ve not seen you in it, but I got to. That counts for something, right?”

“No, it does not.” I attempt to say it confidently. “It’s only to excite you.”

“Boy, was it exciting,” he murmurs, pulling away to look back down at me. 

“Okay, I am definitely not wearing it again now.” I let out a puff of air.

“I wouldn’t doubt that just yet.” He winks and releases his hands, not saying anything else as he walks out of the room.

I stay fixated to the closet, trying to process whatever the hell that was. Flirting? The slightest bit of jealousy, even though there’s nothing to be jealous of? Something he’s keeping from me?

Whatever it is, he’s only digging himself a bigger hole by deflecting it.

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

It’s the last preseason game of the month. It just ended. I’m in the locker room after a 4-1 win over Boston. I’m exhausted. All I want to do is take the bus ride home and sink into my own bed. I didn’t get on the scoresheet tonight, but I did have 15 minutes of ice time. Take that, Jim.

I had a quick shower and changed into my arrival outfit. I kept it casual with a blue and white striped button down and white tapered pants. Thank goddess my period ended 2 days ago, otherwise everyone would be seeing red. Quite literally.

I’m sitting on the bus with my earbuds in, doing my best to fall asleep. Of course, the challenges arise when you’re not even sitting on something comfortable, let alone the fact it’s noisy, let alone the fact you don’t have the energy to talk to anybody. All you can worry about is just getting the hell back to where you like to be the most.

Home.

Except that’s not what it is.

It’s more of a hotel stay. Temporary. Unfulfilling, well, in my perspective. Torture. Uncomfortable. A last resort.

And the irony I was going back to it.

Before I can do my best to drift off, my home screen lights up with what I think is a meaningless notification. That’s until I realize it’s a text and my intuition gets the best of me. Of course it’s from you-know-who.

You played great tn

I swipe up to unlock my phone and reply.

thanks

I see the three dots appear, indicating he’s got more to say.

Want me to wait up?

I type on the keyboard.

no. you can go to bed

The three dots appear again.

Ok. Door will be unlocked

Once again, I end it.

k

It’s anticlimactic, but what else is there to say? It’s just a compliment. Nothing else to it. I drop my phone in the front pocket of my bag and place my earbuds in, ready to drain out the rest of the night.

-----------

I can already feel the blisters from my sandals as I walk down the hallway, approaching the door. I place my hand on the knob and turn it in hopes of it to open.

But it doesn’t.

I fiddle with the knob again, twisting it all the way. That doesn’t work either.

I have two choices. I can text Jimmy and let him know he “accidentally” locked me out, or I can knock vigorously on the door.

So I knock vigorously on the door.

It’s not even an entire 30 seconds before I hear the sound of a lock being detached and the door swinging open, him already in his pajamas, but not looking fully sleepy. He must’ve been starting to drift off. “The hell are you doing?” He says gravelly.

“What do you think I’m doing?” I say as I push past him, turning on the kitchen light. “You didn’t leave the door unlocked.”

He just stands there, taking in my presence, not saying a word. 

“Guess I forgot.”

I scoff, leaning my hand on the countertop. “And you told me it’d be unlocked. You got fuckin Alzheimer’s or some shit?”

“Why are we getting worked up over a locked door?” He repeats my words I shot at him a few days back. I am enraged, but don’t have the willpower to argue. It’s already a quarter to 3 in the morning. It’s a four hour ride back. No one else is awake in the world right now except us, which brings me to my next theory, given that he doesn’t look all tired. He probably did wait up for me. I literally told him not to.

I take a deep breath, tightening my grip on the counter. “Sorry.”

His gaze makes me feel small. “Don’t be. I’m the one that didn’t do it.” He walks backward onto the rug. “C’mon. Get to bed.”

I walk over to the door and shut it all the way, lifting the latch. Since I’m already over there, I turn the light off and pick up my bags, lifting them over my shoulder and walking straight down to my room. I’m expecting him to pin me to the wall. The irony he loves pinning all of his emotional problems on me.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t. I don’t even bother turning on a light, so I just place my bags down by the closet and toss my shoes down on top of them. I go to shut my door until I’m met with a tall shadow standing in the doorway.

“Fuck’s sake, what do you want?” I’m not even pissed off anymore. I don’t know how to explain it.

It’s hard to even look at him since I can barely see his face. He just stands there, occupying the doorframe.

“Goodnight,” I tell him, placing my hand on the knob and shoving the door in front of me to create a barrier.

Only for him to scare the crap out of me by slamming it back open to the side.

I dig my fingers into my palms. “You’re gonna rip that thing off the hinges if you do shit like that.”

“Maybe that’s the plan,” he mutters.

“Okay, seriously, what is your problem?” Why can’t this just wait until the morning?

“I don’t have a problem.” He still hasn’t moved from his spot.

I scoff. “Sure giving me an attitude for someone who claims they don’t have one.”

“Forget it.” 

“Well, if it’s gonna come up at this time of day, then please, Jimmy,” I narrow my eyes up at him. “Enlighten me.”

A frustrated breath comes out of his mouth. Then he turns around and walks into his room, slamming the door. He speaks from behind it. “I would never go through your dead boyfriend’s sympathy cards.”

Guess I wasn’t as sly as I thought. Damn, he really does notice anything.

“Or did you throw all of those away too?”

I lean against my doorframe. “I never got any sent here.”

“Lies.”

“You would’ve given them to me,” I retort back.

“For them to be ripped up,” he says from behind the door.

“Oh, what the hell do you know?” I’m over it at this point.

“Quite a lot for putting up with you for this long.”

I roll my eyes. I know he can’t see me, but I don’t care. “This is not what this is about.”

“What’s it about then?”

“I don’t know, Jim.” I take a brief pause. “You tell me.”

Nothing.

“Maybe you should be the one in therapy. You’re a grown man that can’t even communicate how he feels. It’s unbelievable.” I choose to not go any further, so I shut my door and lock it, giving him less of an opportunity to invade my space.

I unbutton my shirt and untuck it out of my jeans, leaving me in my bra and underwear when I hear his door open and a knock on mine. No. He is not going to see me under these circumstances.

I don’t respond as I turn around to my closet to take out a t-shirt and then to my drawer to retrieve a pair of sweats, stripping myself completely as I change.

“You awake?” He sounds sad.

I don’t breathe nor move.

He’s at his own last straw by attempting to even open the door.

“GO AWAY!!!” 

I would say it was a built up reaction. My throat hurts. I can’t help him if he doesn’t tell me what’s wrong.

The sound of his door shuts again. It worked this time.

I crawl into bed, raising my quilt up to cover half of my face. I stare at the curtains, concentrating on the uptick in my heart rate.

And then I start thinking:

Given the current reality, I’m afraid he’s suppressing himself so that he can be there for others. All I know is that I would not want to be there when, and if, he blows up. I’d be scared.

It’s just beginning.

I know exactly who his target is.

It’s me.

What’s his plan? I don’t know.

But it’s going to end in my current healing heart being broken again.

I don’t even need to guess.

Now that’s a trap you’re stuck in.

[librarianayda]

Kaity Watches Spring Break! I Believe in You! (part two)

putting things beneath the read more this time because... because!

♡ okay, I forgot to start this draft earlier, so I'm already like an hour and a half in

♡ woo go Aelwyn!!!

♡ tracker!!!! tracker!!!!

♡ "wow that's hot what's going on" lovely priorities here as always

♡ please give me more gorgug & ayda friendship moments !!!! I need them!!!

♡ HANGMAN!!!

♡ "so I'm going to ask a shenanigans question" followed almost immediately by "I'd like to channel Emily Axford" and "Secret Agent The Ball"

♡ fuck I got distracted messing with my theme

♡ okay, I have to go back to work now, I'll continue updating tonight!

♡ .... and we're back, baby!

♡ "last I saw, Adaine killed him, so..."

♡ what a fucking power move. I hated Aelwyn at the start of this season, and now I'm so fucking excited to see her and Adaine's relationship grow 🥰

♡ burn towns get money is just on repeat in my head. Not the whole song, just "burn towns, burn towns, burn towns get money"

♡ I love Ayda so much. <3

♡ no no no no no no no no no no NO!!!!!!!

♡ Fabian 'that is MY BEST FRIEND' Seacaster I love you

♡ can I swaddle the ball as a bonus action?

♡ that's resilience! omg Emily

♡ Aelwyn looks horrified- yes, and so do Gorgug and Fabian!

♡ no fuck Ragh! No no no!

♡ oh thank fucking gods

♡ oh good good yes

♡ that was banter omg

♡ woo gorthalax!

♡ give the bad guy our teddy

♡ this tree dude sucks

♡ hot riz is born. No.

♡ mirrors negate mirrors, classic literature

♡ kalina and the tree sounds like a really cool band name, honestly?

♡ how bout it was like a short rest? Omg Siobhan I love it

♡ okay, listen to this shenanigan

♡ what's all this math you're doing?

♡ NO GORTHALAX NO NO NO!

♡ Okay, this is a crazy thing to do in the middle of a battle. Love it.

♡ OH MY FUCKING GOD ALLY

♡ Saint Kristen Applebees is right

♡ oh. my. God. What the fuck oh my god oh my god what

♡ Holy fucking shit oh my god

♡ are my bones 600 years old for real

♡ oh. Oh my god. The storytelling genius that is Brennan Lee Mulligan. Oh my god.

♡ just a few points of light in all that darkness

♡ fucking ally oh my god this feels like a weird first date but I would follow you

♡ it's okay not to know, idk

♡ it's a real problem in archeology Brennan

♡ um, obviously.

♡ no, but for real though, I have it paused as I write this so I could find out I'm wrong in the next five minutes, but

♡ all the hellenic foreshadowing this season? If it wasn't supposed to be Cassandra, I followed Ally's thinking exactly

♡ which is slightly frightening to think about

♡ but yeah, absolutely that was obvious

♡ is Gilear restored to his pride armor oh my god

♡ awww gorgug so sweet

♡ a big bug gave me a riddle

♡ If we don't get an A I'm calling the cops

♡ is the most Adaine thing ever omg

♡ because my mum's name was Ayda Aguefort, too oh my fucking god Brennan why would you say something like that why

♡ chronomancy!

♡ jawbone 🥰

♡ you're easy to love. And anyone who couldn't figure it out was a real bozo.

♡ fucking break my heart why don't you

♡ okay fine I forgive you thanks to jawbone putting it back together for Ayda and I

♡ but I'm fucking sobbing over here

♡ oh my god Lou thank you for making me laugh Fabian is such a fucking dork and I love him

♡ if that's something you're interested in oh my gods brennan

♡ "tracker loves you so much" THEN WHY IS THERE SAD MUSIC PLAYING, BRENNAN?

♡ 😭😭😭

♡ ragh yes I love you

♡ riz

♡ as soon as you say nightyorb

♡ fuck. well, I knew it was coming

♡ fuck what is this music I know this music tomorrow is Wednesday on Wednesdays we listen to hobbit music oh I think this is lotr music!

♡ have you thought about what your junior year project might be?

Holy fucking shit I love this show and these nerds so fucking much. Thank you.