Kaledo Art
Cosmic Funnies
Peter Solarz
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
DEAR READER
$LAYYYTER
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
shark vs the universe
No title available
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
cherry valley forever
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
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occasionally subtle
Not today Justin
styofa doing anything
tannertan36
Mike Driver
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
seen from Spain
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seen from United Kingdom
seen from Norway
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
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@drftings-archived
DRFTINGS !!! … dade county dreaming, head out the sunroof, girls are screaming. back to scheming, sure know how to give but she love receiving. girl loves the feeling, life in her eyes, everything is fleeting. i can't feel the ceiling. orange skies, i'm never leaving.
₊ ☆ ﾟ 𝐗𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎, rodani prowlers, MECHANIC.
starter 4 @drftings !
where : 9pm-ish, stumbling upon an almost-crime.
the first glimpse he'd caught of xile that night was her dancing on top of a car. the second glimpse he catches of her is her grabbing one of the dealers and rattling him. her anger is palpable, argument muffled but loud all the same, and even though the dealer's the one with his hands in the air and begging her to stop, he manifests behind xile like a guard dog, all snarl and glare just as her hands raise to choke the other out. hand curves around her arm before she can attack, tugging her back gently. better to stop her before he's got to bail her out of jail. it briefly occurs to him that she might be the problem in this interaction. oh, well. to the dealer, who's still being stubborn despite the imminent danger that is angry-xi : " why don't you fuck off and leave her alone before i break your face ? "
various showcases over the years and never an offer made on an actual car. pieces to a car, sure, maybe, specific mods that could be of help to a project. but never the work of someone else in the being of a car, pride of a mechanic that told her she could always create the same car. or one that's better. yet the moment she strolled past a 1971 monte carlo that looked like a familiar ghost, she stopped in front of who claimed to be the owner and spit out an outrageous number. four hours later the taunt of other offers being made has her seconds from choking out the man before her, a gentle touch paired with threatening words has her body relaxing. the man scurrying off muttering about psychos in the car scene now. turns to face darius with a huff, “ i hope he knows i will be back. fuckin' dumbass tried to con more money out of me for a car! ” at least that's how she took it. but leaving tonight without a pink slip for the monte carlo wasn't an option. “ came at the right time, bodyguard, or else i'd probably be in some holding cell with matías taking a selfie from the other side. ”
# INT. GAS STATION, PREGAMED & PUMPING GAS. @drftings
PRETTY LITTLE THING IS ALL LEGS, wrapped in something slinky⸺meant for a night different to this one. so she's ankle first out the door of her blacked out mercedes, towing toward the opposite of the pump she'd parked crooked at. lola was a creature of many rituals: brushed her hair in odd strokes, sent money home every friday, always answered when xile called. because they were spliced by time, bounded by more than repping the same crew. they were sisters of happenstance, not blood. so when xi called, lola was there. the wind laps the hem of her dress: silky, short & hardly there, hair mussed purposefully⸺makeup slept in but in tact. still more composed than not, " swear to god, i'm making you do this yourself next time. "
the last born in a family formed by the seed of love, there are few times the word no is uttered. never rotten, but spoiled she is. and there are times where the limits are tested. it's why she smiles sheepishly at the elegant deer that glided through empty pumps to reach her, put together in a way that she could be fooled into believing the other had been expecting her call. “ right, you could, but then you'd miss out on being the first to see me tonight! ” back leaning against the 1997 nissan 240sx that the mechanic drove. her first ever project, her baby. fuel door open, though she'd yet to make an effort in detaching the pump from the station.
FEELIN' LUCKY, ROCKY? eyes aren't on the fairlady, no business putting her name into the raffle. but with enough cash in the yellow fluff purse xile rosario will hopefully wrangle up a 1971 monte carlo, a replica of the one tattooed on her skin, at the showcase
@drftings
a win for nariza is tantamount to a win for sloane. this, of course, has less to do with teamwork than it does a personal vendetta. sloane had a hand in winning because it was her work on some of those cars that got them past the finish line, so naturally xile had a hand in losing for that very same reason. victory tastes sweet, and so does spotting xile across the room tonight.
“why, look who it is! you drinkin' your troubles away tonight? i hear tequila does wonders for easin' the sting of a loss. though if i were you i'd run on back to the garage to work on sharpenin' my skills so i don't end up embarrassin' myself at the next race.”
it isn't about the loss. she can handle losing. been around the prowlers enough to see cars she's worked on not finish first. it wasn't a blow to her ego, it wasn't anything more than a reminder that she has to do better work. but they'd lost to nariza. five cars finish before the first prowler does, and three more pass before rodani even reaches a top three. the looks on their faces, the words eddie had spewed at her, the resentment she recognized in jets eyes. it's enough to end up at heartbreaker, bottle of corona half empty. hold on the neck tightening at the voice behind her. “ doubt any of those racers even let you near their car, ” she's smart to not utter a word about the way she had looked under julian's hood before the race. “ is there a reason you're here and not out celebratin' those prized wins? i'm sure baby's out at 12welve, maybe you'll get a free shot for the tire alignments you provided. i'm guessin' that's all they let you do over there. ”
" good. that's good. " tensions were high after the meet, but with how the entire night before had gone, it was the perfect bitter conclusion. he didn't want to keep talking about valentine's, though. grabs onto the topic of his cat like a lifeline. " mabel's good. i'm sure she'd... love to see you. " him and xile and mabel was how he'd envisioned it years ago, when he first brought the kitten home. it felt like a lifetime had passed since then. his eyes follow xile's to the strips and polaroids on the wall. he'd been avoiding them intentionally : like seeing a ghost in the image, his past self taunting him. moves away from the door and towards the wall as she speaks, studying each picture. they're not all of him, but they're all things he remembers fondly. moments of a lost time. his own share of strips hidden away at his apartment along with everything he'd kept from his time with xile, things he'd tell anyone else he gave up. " i remember this day. " pointing at one of the older strips and careful not to touch, as if he was something poisonous. " that was a terrible booth. didn't even warn you. " as a result, the pictures were blurry. but there were him and xile, laughing, wrapped up in one another. not even together yet. turns back to xile, watching her hold onto the plushies. he'd searched all of animal kingdom for a full set, but apparently they didn't have mufasa and sarabi. one employee even went who? when he'd asked about sarabi, and it'd taken all his will not to jump the counter. they hadn't been intended as a valentines gift, initially. just as another apology. one he'd been planning all the way back in orlando and had only just gained the will to offer. xile had been on his mind then, and she was on his mind now, and a part of him wondered if that would ever stop. he wouldn't dwell on if he wanted it to stop. her admission offers a distraction from his thoughts. he gives her a confused look as the weight of the words settle, and then — bursts out laughing. " you didn't even read the full thing ? fuck, i thought you'd hated it. " here, struggling to get the words out, lopsided grin unabashedly wide, he can almost see himself again. " yeah, xi. i think we can be friends again. i've been shit to you, but i'm gonna do better. i've missed you. thought it would be easier, y'know, to avoid you, to... you're my favorite person, though. don't really care about easier. " brown meets brown as their eyes meet. distance between them is kept. he's afraid she might run off again. " do you want to try ? bein' friends ? "
thankful for the topic of the holiday behind them, she allows them to move forward with the conversation of his cat. it's almost safe, treading ahead. “ yeah, ” the word is said carefully. “ i'd love to see her too, ” it'd have to be neutral ground. maybe he could bring mabel to the rosario home. or maybe they could meet up at a park, she's seen enough movies to know divorced parents liked the park as a spot to pass on their kid. mabel wasn't her kid, never reached the actual stage of co - parenting, but she'd love her the same. just a few days after darius had went silent, nothing left but a key and what he couldn't take away from her own place, she'd seen sarabi. there had been a moment where she thought mabel had sent the black cat to her. “ a lot of those first booths were horrible. didn't even check half of them, just hopped in for the photos, ” and all those firsts were littered around the board. childhood home presented the first stages of their past. those pictures didn't hurt to look at, a mix of innocence and hidden feelings. the ones where they were something, millions of kisses and doing poses she'd force them into, those strips she didn't dare to think about. walked past every photobooth in miami as if she didn't know of the creation. look of confusion on his face doesn't have time to settle before a laugh escapes him.
for the first time since she's known of his return, she allows herself to drink him in. eyes taking in the figure that had filled out more in the last three years, the fashion sense that hadn't strayed from what he'd always worn, the strands of long hair that curled around his frame. he's grown, and changed she's sure, but there are still pieces of the man she knew. her eyes get stuck on his mouth pulled into a candid grin. image before her has teeth sinking into the corner of her bottom lip. the nickname, the softly spoken apology in the form of i've missed you, and the bold statement of being his favorite person. he doesn't speak of that in the past tense, the way he's had a lot of other things, he says it like it's still true. like she's still his favorite person even if they've been apart. doesn't a miss a word he says because she can't seem to look away from the smile on his face. until their eyes meet again, chocolates melting. thinks on his words. she knows they won't be together again, that part of them buried when he left, but she doesn't know if there's a version of them that doesn't remain tethered. strings knotted together in various different forms. by family, by history, by beings. she's tired of being angry with him. they can't be together, but they can be friends. she wants to be friends. “ yeah, ” it's the first word she's said to him that sounded concrete, resolution hardened, “ i want to try to be friends. i know it'll take time, to be like before when we were friends, but, ” trails off to construe the words carefully, “ it's us. we'll figure it out. ” stands up straight, taking the first step towards him. hand stretched out as a cheeky grin dances across her features. “ to friendship? ” fingers wiggling in wit. the agreement to push ahead, to step over the nasty parts and attempt reconciliation, bringing out the playful side of her. hands wrapped together for mere seconds before she hears cheers on the other side of the door. a roll of her eyes as she strides to pull open the bedroom door, matías falling over from where his ear was glued the beginning domino to the other three that stumbled after. guilt - free smiles all staring back at the pair.
"you know you're outside the same fucking bar, yeah?" the insult makes them laugh, head shaking at the other. "you couldn't get in either, in case you forgot. or did i hit you hard enough to cause memory problems?" their fists ache at their own memory, the skin on her knuckles still red and raw. only a few days have passed and jinx still finds it difficult to handle tools properly, especially more delicate ones. their staunch refusal to wear the brace on their hand might be a problem later but it's certainly an issue now as it interferes with the ability to do their job. and maybe they recognize the attempt at camaraderie but the anger swirling in their chest refuses to let her play nice, especially with rocky of all people. at least they know now she's a damn ugly prowler and that's enough for their hatred. a weak justification, perhaps, but now at least jinx doesn't have to do anything else other than what instinct allows. “keep talking and i'll break your jaw so then at least we can all get some fucking peace and quiet around here for a while.”
three years ago nariza was simply a crew that had walked away from the prowlers. there were moments she thought the split wouldn't last more than a few months, a heated argument that would end up in a reunion. it wasn't until the words spat on both sides crossed lines that were too far to bridge that she knew it, the two crews would be the new normal. so she stayed away, mostly. but nariza, like rodani, had grown. and that meant bodies that had no tie to the girl. bodies that did nothing more than irritate her being. “ i'm not the one bitchin' about it though, and you didn't hit hard enough to cause any problems, ” mention of the past fight has her fist clenching at her side. she didn't come out with the intentions to fight. though, she'd argue she never does. but she'd still not learn to let words roll over her back, she was still that same eight year who was fighting to prove a point. “ go ahead, try to break it then, ” steps taken to bring her closer to the other. head not turning from the body even when the bouncer whistles at them to cut it out.
the letter may have been a failure, but at least the other gift didn’t go to waste. it had been hell to buy them — a treacherous journey that included giving the mouse his money and time. but he knew she’d like them. favorite movie watched a thousand and one times without complaint. he could still sing every song by memory, though he hadn’t watched it since he left. film left as static as plushies in a childhood bedroom stuck in time : tethered in the past because to come to the present would be too much. “ went straight home while everyone was still arguing about the car mess. clock was tickin’ down fast and mabel missed me. can’t leave my favorite girl alone like that. you ? ” the day after had been the real hell, having to go to his doctor and lie about why his face looked the way it did just so they could fix his nose a little. almost pulls a face just thinking about it, though he manages to temper his features. mostly. and then, she mentions the strip. half the strip cut out, her with the bright beginning and him with the tragic end to a tragic night. something about it felt fitting. his half of the strip was kept safe with all the other strips he had of them, somehow both depressing when compared to the others and hopeful all at once. a reminder that he was here again, not in orlando. and yes, things had changed. but he was back and she was here and everything was fucked — and he was here, at home, not in orlando. for all his brooding and moping, it felt fucking fantastic to be miserable in miami. it was a thousand times better to be in a state of misery with xile hating him than in a state of misery without her and the city at all. “ kept it, but i can’t say it’s the greatest strip we’ve done. ” he doesn’t ask her what she did with her strip : let that remain a mystery between them. was that cowardice or mercy ? perhaps both. he’s always had a penchant for duality. something else lingers between them, unspoken — the complete failure of a letter, another terrible attempt to rekindle friendship. to not bring it up is definitely cowardice on his part. but everything has a bitter taste when it’s exchanged between them these days days. forgive him for not wanting to feel the fruit of their dying connection rot further. he was hoping to have a good night. it’ll come up eventually. he’s learned the tough things always do. clears his throat, glancing around the room. just as he remembers it — as it has been since cólas passed. since four became three became split into individual pieces. “ did you like the plushies ? got them — a while ago. was gonna send them, but then i came back to miami... ”
it only feels a little bit unnatural for him to be standing in her room. the same room an eighteen year old darius had hesitantly looked around during the first visit in the rosario home, where the almost twenty year old darius kissed her for the first time, thousands of memories floating throughout the room. “ ended up at the meet, saw all the shit go down, but was on my best behavior so i didn't get into another fight. ” doesn't mention the fact that she had pushed through a few bodies to get to giselle the moment she'd heard her heightened voice. one look, one word, and she would've jumped in with no hesitation. instead, her voice softens when she asks, “ how is mabel doing? ” the cat an expansion of the man, two souls that connected in one moment for eternity. she had missed mabel the same way she had missed darius. fiercely. darius and mabel growing together, away from her. a bitter pill to swallow. head turning to look at the multiple photobooth strips pinned to the bulletin board hung up on the wall. clusters, spread throughout the board with polaroids and the sorts littered in between. the amount that can be seen in her room nothing compared to the hundreds she has stored away in her apartment. “ guess it's not, ” she didn't mind the half she had ripped out to keep, though she doesn't say that. added to the folder that hadn't been updated in three years. mixed feelings as she slipped into a protective sleeve, four in the morning and a heavy heart. it pushed her to open up the letter again. to skip past the words that had formed watery eyes, make it past to where he spoke of reconciliation. broken expression, tears slipping down a bruised face, standing in front of her brother to know what darius had left with him. she couldn't register any words thiago was saying, in one ear and out the other. “ yeah, i love them, ” body twisting to grab hold of the nearest plush, staring down at the baby face of simba. fingers trailing the stitching, swallowing down emotions that poked at her throat. it was silly how much the franchise meant to her, how the lions reflected in her own family. he knew that about her. how she let herself get attached to animation. clearing her throat, “ hope one day they come out with a sarabi plushie to add to the collection. ” her hand doesn't move from the cub, as if her hold on the figure will supply her strength, “ thank you, for them. for the gift. guess it's a good thing i ended up reading the rest of that letter. y'really think we can be friends again? ”
📍 bay packing garage
⏰ a few days after valentine’s day
🗝️ closed starter for @drftings ( xile )
☁️ — a silence fill the parking garage air only broken by the occasional far of screech of a tire on concrete. it’s a welcome change from the meet from a few nights ago. a calm that eric can relish in. he sits perched on one of the concrete half - walls of the garage lit cigarette held between two fingers. “ they’re lucky as shit they didn’t touch my car, “ his mumbled voice breaking the quiet that had settled between. an irony in the one called ‘ whisper ’ being the one to break it. taking a breath he takes a long drag of the cigarette letting out the smoke in a puff above his head. “ least they could do was stay to help pick up … “ eyes lingering on the remaining trash still littering the parking garage. “ ’don know kinda remind me of home with all the trash. “ flashes of his childhood home and neighborhood flickering through his mind.
days after a failed holiday, bruises still coloring features, the prowlers find comfort in the garage. nothing more to it than needing a quiet place to just be. event of nights prior not completely erased from memory. “ what'd ya think is worse? fucked up paint job, busted up windows, or broken tail lights? ” it didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. in a world of people that connected themselves to their cars, a hit to their ride only caused a scar on bodies. and a lot of anger. it's all rodani has talked about, she's sure the same could be said for nariza. a miracle that it hadn't ended in some great brawl. hums as she looks at the scattered remains on the ground. doesn't move from her comfy spot on concrete to clean it up, glances to the side, “ home held a lot of trash? ”
☆ closed starter for @wilds1de, won jihoon
☆ located at bay parking garage. ↪ cruise action prompt — flipped. there is no real privacy in the won-seo household, improvisation leads them to the garage with bags of taco bell.
the itch was coming back. every three months, like clockwork, there'd be this irritation under her skin. something that would keep poking, prodding, until she ended up somewhere in the keys or tampa, even tallahassee, racing around a track she had no business on. it was dangerous, maybe borderline stupid, and no one knew about it. felt the itch this morning soon as she got up from bed, pacified it by driving way above the speed limit from jihoon's place to taco bell to the bay parking garage. it'd come back, she knew, but it was enough for now. “ they better not have forgotten my fire sauce, ” arm half way into the bag, head ducking to look for the miniature sauce packets, “ ever since it came out, can't have my taco bell without it. ” a roar of victory when she finds the ten fire sauces she requested at the drive through window, a look over to where jihoon was planted in the passenger seat of her car, “ they get everything right for you? ”
☆ closed starter for @thr0ttle, tania taviani-hardja
☆ located at miami beach. ↪ proximity action prompt — going into the third month of the year and all the action has left them without a proper catch up, so swim wear and a chat under the sun it is.
it only took a little convincing for them to move from the comfort of tania's mattress to the almost always crowded miami beach, saving grace of the argument being that it was a weekday so it was bound to be less packed. she couldn't help it. the mechanic knew where their conversation would head, a retelling of the last two months, and she needed the solace only the beach could bring. “ not so bad, right? ” scooting over into their space, bodies only inches apart on the beach towels, “ we've got enough space between us and everyone else on the beach! can't even really make out what that guys playing on his speaker! ”
☆ closed starter for @c0urs, eddie baek-dunn.
☆ located at a minimalist apartment in downtown miami. ↪ arrival action prompt — march third. the knock comes right at 10:23pm, six pack of corona in hand, birthday hat resting on head, and a small baggie in pocket.
she's already seen him for the day, forced a gift in his hand and a congratulations for another year around the sun against his cheek. they hadn't explicitly made plans for later, there's a good chance she's interrupting something or that she'll leave without a response, a last minute decision to spend the last moments of his day with him. so the second the door is opened, “ happy birthday, again! ” free hand wraps around mouth to echo the melody of the spanish rendition of happy birthday, no regard for volume or the neighbors that might be able to hear the commotion filtering through their doors. unasked for encore, she has no plans to stop until her body is tugged inside the familiar home. birthday wishes cut in half, replaced by a cackle that only vibrates between his own walls. six pack resting on counter top, “ i know you're not much of a drinker, but figured we are celebratin', ” string of the birthday hat snaps at her neck when she knocks it off herself. tip of her toes to secure it around his face, pearly whites shining when she steps back and takes in the view. “ if ya not feelin' the corona though, i got ya another present, ” digging into the pocket of skin tight shorts, glint off the weed in a clear small bag, a dangerous twinkle as she presents his options, body smack in the middle, “ pick your poison. ”
☆ closed starter for @cr4shout, julian childes.
☆ located in the corners of fort lauderdale. ↪ day after valentines — no longer wearing jackets marked with crew colors, an escape from miami to just be.
forty five minute drive turned an hour long with miami traffic spent with feet resting against the dashboard, wind blowing against her hair, music never finding a cohesive shift with songs shuffled by turn. each minute that passed was a chip at rocky, distance coaxing the true nature of the girl out. bell above the diner door signaling their arrival, heat from the body not far behind her transferring over as the door that was held open swings behind them, notions of being greeted and sat pass in a blink. hand against back sliding her into the seat. “ don't know if this has the same vibe as our beach plans, ” only spoken when the waitress walks away with their drink orders. the way her ass was planted in the booth seat, tongue poking out to swipe against her bottom lip, fingers carefully holding onto the sticky menu, there's no real reason for her to complain. and it's not a true protest, can't be with the grin she sends his way. still, “ but, i guess, it'll do. ” menu abandoned on the table, the first read through always a show, the type to always get the same thing wherever she went. legs tangled up underneath the booth, “ what're ya gettin' cowboy? ”
there was a time when the distinction of crew meant everything to him. rodani prowler, nariza boi, any other crew. badge to wear with fuckin' pride alongside his wins. now the names ring hollow. he came back to miami, but darius chulanont isn't back. could play pretend all day, but as the sun sets and the emptiness of night starts to creep in, he always wonders : does it really matter ? when the two crews are tied by the red string of fate, by memories, by old friendships and love and, and, and. but, fuck, what does he know ? he's just an import model. " mm. " his only answer. he could say a million things and earn only rebuttal, but the twitch of his mouth is answer enough. barest hint of a smile. he's amused at her talking about the crews. it's serious. he knows it is. it was serious for him, too, once. wishes he could match her passion in that sense, that he could dig his heels into the sand and say, proudly, i am a nariza boi. something always stops him, shattered thing that he's become. " no, i wouldn't apologize. " unless you asked is left unspoken. brief glance at matías as xile stands, the other offering nothing but a dumb grin and a thumbs up. before he can flip the other off, he's being tugged up, body going easy where he would tense up with anyone else. xile doesn't take them outside like he expects. good, because she might see his bike and ask questions he's not sure he's ready to answer. they head towards her room instead, and there's another twinge of nostalgia as he makes his way inside. they were opposites, growing up, and nothing makes it more evident than their childhood rooms. his is bland, painted and decorated at his mother's will. xile's room is evidence of a girl who grew up loved. one of his favorite places in the rosario home, when he was younger. sometimes he'd sit on xile's bed as her and harvey messed around and wonder what his life might have been like if he'd made it to miami before eighteen. with the way things were currently going ? the answer was likely still bad. now, though, he stands at the shut door with the awkward gait of a stranger in a strange land, testing if they were to be welcomed here. " hi. "
nineteen years old when she'd left the nest, leap of independence when she decided to move out into her own place, though she stayed close enough to visit every day. seventeen years old when she stopped touching her room, when it'd become a memorial instead. she couldn't bring herself to change things around, to move anything that once had been touched or seen by the brother that no longer walked this earth with her. she could add to it, but she'd never alter it. knows it must've been difficult for her father, her entire family, to respect those wishes but they always had. to the point where now, at twenty five years old, it resembled more of a museum. fragments of everyone she's ever loved, everyone she's lost, surrounding her in the space. suffocating enough that she almost rarely spends a night, preferring to treat the room she'd grown up in as a last resort. she'd spent a week at home, in this very room, when darius had first left. spent the night on valentines, crawling into the bed hours after the meet, darius' gift that had been left with thiago nestled in her arms. sight set on the lion king plushies that laid in perfect order at the head of her bed as she walks into her room, turning her back on them to rest on the edge of the mattress. even without the stitching revealing disney world, she'd known it was from animal kingdom right away. memories of the multiple times she'd moan about having to see the theme park came into mind. the theme park, only a few hours away, opened almost nine years ago now. darius hated orlando, hated the hell house of the mouse, but he'd walked the park to get her the plushies. hands planted behind her, arms supporting her body as she leans back on the bed, she studies him where he stands planted by the door. the greeting pulling a small smile from her she tries to hide from him. “ how'd you end your valentines day? ” it's not too far from what they'd been speaking about at the table, the holiday, but where she wanted their talk to go she couldn't let her brothers hear. mind settled enough to bring it up, “ y'get your half of the strip? ”
after his failure of a call to friendship through his valentine's letter, he'd expected the lack of acknowledgement. doesn't make it any easier to withstand. unexpected is when she speaks to him after he's touched her, while the tips of his fingers are still burning, bringing up words he'd thrown out in anger. now he isn't hungry, either, remnants of his plate staring down at him when he glances their way. there would be no forgetting what happened on the 14th, not from the mirror and not from the company he kept, it seems. all he wants to do is turn back time and stay home. he ignores the audience they have, the way he can almost feel matías' burning stare, hungry to ask a million and one questions. " he was a dick to me first. he tell you that part ? " bitter tone at the memory, molars gnashing together ( pointedly ignores matías going 'damn he really said that shit huh?' and his fiancée returning with a 'cállate, matías' ). he could replay jihoon's words over and over. they wouldn't make his any nicer, but at least he can say he didn't strike first. though, given xile probably agreed with jihoon's statements, he's at a growing loss. there shouldn't be any shame in snapping at an enemy. somehow xile turns the world upside down like nothing else. browns snap back to her. " so what if i don't think about the prowlers anymore ? you think any of that applies to you ? maybe it's unfair to you, i don't know, but you go beyond the crew shit for me. not sure if you've noticed, xile, i can't get you out of my fuckin' head. " downwards twist of his mouth. alarm in his mind starts blaring : you've said too much ! someone clears their throat. there's a moment of silence before the rest of the table attempts a half - hearted resurgence of conversation, but he knows all eyes and ears are turned towards them. except for emanuel, who's taking longer to check on the pie then is needed. loss of a lecture on cursing at the table, at least, but maybe emanuel's presence would help with his buzzing nerves, leash him down and force him to behave in a way he can't when it's just him and xile and their nosy audience. deep breath in. " i didn't mean it. " admission only for her ears, spoken out with enough pain in his tone you'd think he was pulling his teeth. " what i told jihoon. it's just, seein' him, it made me think — nothing good. but i'm not gonna apologize for the fight 'cause i'm not the one who hit first. "
she's well aware of the audience she's caused for the pair, the multiple set of eyes that don't attempt to look away for a second bouncing between the two. it isn't the first fight they've had in front of her family, it won't be the last. and even with the commentary from the peanut gallery she knows it won't go further than the table. than the four walls of the safe home her father had done everything in his power to create. the silence that his outburst caused broken by a cough, by whispered bullshit conversations, by the sound of forks scraping against plates. rigid frame of her body doesn't melt away. “ yeah, he told me 'bout it all, relax ” even the parts where jihoon pressed against sore spots with lies. it didn't matter to her, no anger towards her friend, after all she'd done the same. and she's not stupid enough to feel bad for her ex. not when it came to the words. there is a small frown on her face when she takes in the hits once more, the physicality of the fight was something that tugged her in bother directions, she couldn't stop the care for him in that aspect. “ not sure if you've noticed, darius, ” named coated in sin, not enough to cover the honey wrapped around it underneath, “ but i am a prowler. and you're nariza. even if y'don't wanna see it like that. the crew shit, the one you so easily walked away from and came back to, does apply to me. to both of us. ” eyes only look away from him to cut another look at her brother. would be nice if y'could use code names, for deniability, matías claims under his breath. another slap against the back of his head from the first born, a warning to shut the fuck up from thiago. turns her head just as matías whines of his career choice as a cop. “ you'd apologize if you were the one who swung first? ” a rhetorical question. it didn't matter to her, whether he would or wouldn't. she wasn't one to ever chastise him for a fight. instead the girl who would get riled up by it, who grinned at the strength he carried. another glare shot across the table when she hears a muffled yeah right, he wouldn't even try to. “ we're finishing this conversation somewhere else, ” pushes away from the table, sliding darius' unfinished plate towards the bodies on the other side. one of them would pick it up, food never went into the garbage in the house. looking down at the model who still sat rooted in his chair, she grabs onto the collar of his jacket pulling him up fingers sliding down his arm as he rises. “ privately, by the way. i don't want to hear either one of you on the other side of the door, ” dragging him by the sleeve of his jacket now after her as she walks them towards her childhood room. thiago's claim of innocence and matías' aw man in the background behind them.
every time he sees xile it feels like a punch to the gut. wonders if it'll ever stop, ever feel something less than lethal to gaze upon the girl he left behind. he's not sure how much of it is guilt and how much of it is something he'd rather leave unspoken. steps out of the kitchen to take his place. the rosario table is only so big. suspicious that her family's decided to take every seat except the one always reserved for him — glares at her brothers as he sits down next to her, the two of them returning bright smiles. she moves further from him, but he stays in place. he's tired of running away and avoiding, avoiding, avoiding, so fuck it. he'll sit next to her and he'll eat. he's quiet as conversation starts up around him, whatever they were doing on valentine's that left them a bruised duo carefully kept out as a topic, as they pass food between each member until everyone had a full plate. this, here, was a home : warm and loving, even with the tension between him and xile. dinner with his parents was a clinical affair of awkward silence and avoidance, the rosarios' complete opposite. being back is a relaxing thing, a peace running through his veins that he hasn't felt in the years he'd been gone. like a puzzle piece slid into place after being lost for so long. maybe that softness is what has him glancing at xile, remnants of valentines still on her face. she's ignoring him, faced towards the rest of the table. still, he gives her extra servings of her favorites from his plate — the person he was before his crash might have died quick, but old habits die hard. leans in closer once he's sure matias' nosy ass is too busy giving out his weekly gossip, murmur low where the rest of them were loud and boisterous. he reaches out, brief moment of un-sanity, fingers brushing over xile's chin as he turns her face towards his. " let me look at your nose. " concern laces his tone, browns dancing over her bruises like he might make them disappear from the strength of his sight alone. if anyone notices their detour of a conversation, he can't tell. that's what happens when he looks at xile, why she's so dangerous. everything else sort of disappears. " you go to a doctor to get it looked at yet ? i know you forget sometimes. " some would say he doesn't have a right to scold her. to which he would say, promptly, fuck off. he's allowed this if nothing else. finally, realizing he's still touching her, he pulls his hand back.
growing up in a home that was never quiet for too long taught her to never silence her own voice. it didn't matter that her three older brothers were louder than car engines because the moment she opened her mouth, it went quiet. she learned to speak up, learned to have opinions and share them, learned that in this life she'd never truly be alone. and in that home, she'd been taught to invite others into it, an open door policy that half of miami have encountered at one point. some bodies that ended up framed on the walls, pieces of the family. pieces of darius were around the entire home. three years away and still he fits in like he's never been gone. kicks exchanged underneath the table between dumb and dumber that she has to pretend to not notice, easy conversation that went from harmless to prodding, the way her father smiled as he looked around the table. weeks ago it would've been enough to warm the cold heart, but tonight there's left over anger from the passing holiday. enough that she ices him out. speaking to everyone but him, not bothering to acknowledge the extra food that gets placed on her plate though she knows it comes from him. plans to ignore him the entire night until his touch is branding her skin, orbs peering down at him as he checks the way her injuries have settled. she hadn't bothered to cover them up with make up, no sense of shame around her family, the worst of her injuries covered by the baggy jeans she'd worn. she could be normal. answer his question, allow their family to finish dinner with peace. but she doesn't, never one to bite her tongue especially in the rosario home. doesn't even lower her voice when she curtly says, “ is this you carin' ‘bout a prowler now? thought you didn’t think about us at all, ” the cough from across the table, followed by a smack against the back of a head, breaks the silence that followed her recount of his words from valentines. she knows her brothers are tuning in to the conversation, their partners attempting to chastise them with an ear out as well, hears the scraping of a chair as her father mutters that he'll check on the pie. “ isn't that what you told jihoon? ” his touch gone but the feeling still lighting skin on fire. appetite gone, half full plate pushed away waiting to be snatched by the second born of the family. arms crossed across her chest as she finally looks him in his eyes, “ you were a dick to him. ”
⋆ xile rosario 🛞 @drftings ⋆ the vance/rosario residence
" — so you agree it was that crazy bitch right? " she was already minutes into her lengthy vent session on how surely her deranged ex girlfriend, baby, was the one who shredded her precious camille's gorgeous silver paint at the meet on valentine's day. it had been days now and she refused to let up on her belief nor give up on repeating the same long winded rant about it. sitting cuddled up under a throw blanket on their couch, she had entrapped poor xile into listening to her shit talk suah and the rest of the nariza bois after watching a rerun of 'pimp my ride'. " just… ugh! why did they have to be there? why can't they fuck off to the west coast or something for like a month? or even canada? forever, actually. "
bobblehead nods, face mask painted on as if that would soak up the bruises instead of blackheads, eyes on the black cat and tiny chihuahua that mirrored their owners cuddled up together. “ definitely was the crazy bitch, don't know what you ever saw in her, ” she did little to stop the ongoing rant, instead using her energy to bite back the laughs that had wanted to escape the moment the vent session started. no humor to what happened at the meet, just the overall presence of her roommate. “ california has a cool racing scene from what i've heard, nariza could go there. leave miami to us, ” that would never happen, “ wish i could say it was a surprise they were there, but i feel like they've been everywhere we are since the new year, ” and it didn't help that she often found herself entangled with them.
