impossible; @libby-rigby-blog - Tumblr Blog

nicartwright:

“Lets make a deal,” Nic began, as he looked up at the person before him. “— You don’t ask, and I’ll buy you a drink. If you happen to have a towel and/or ice pack, with some damn aspirin. I’ll get you the whole damn bar.”

Libby took a moment to look up at Dominic, pausing slightly before reaching into her bag to pull out the small tub of aspirin she kept handy. She placed them on the bar next to him, and simply smiled softly. If he didn't want to tell her, he didn't have to, and she'd respect that. "Yesterday a kid ran over my foot with the book trolley, so I-I thought I'd keep these in my bag, just in case."

#convo #c; dominic

matthewschase:

“So I found this little guy at the shelter, poor thing lost a leg but he is so playful and sweet. The only problem I have is what to name him.” Chase said to the person as he held the cat in his arms. Rubbing the cat’s stomach lightly before kissing the side of it’s face.

Libby let out an awh before she chuckled thinking of the reasons her cats were called Rufus and Joey. "Lincoln got me Joey Jr, and.. because he couldn't think of a name, he called him Joey Jr, because I used to call him Joey. And uh-- my ex, found Rufus, and called her Rufus because he thought she was a boy."

#convo #c; chase

dylanrcarter:

“So, I was standing in line at Starbucks, because I needed my triple shot of espresso. Nothing new, just another day. And not kidding you, I watched a girl whip her frappe at the barista, because her name had been misspelled on the cup.” They spoke, “And then made them make her a new one with her name spelled correctly.” A hand came to rest against their temple, “And then threatened to have the girl fired. The best part was not even twenty minutes later, this girl appears before me for an audition. Fortunately for all involved, this time it’d be a script that would be thrown. Not as wet, or sticky. The little things. Have I mention how much I hate the human race? How was your day? ”

The blonde couldn't help the twitch of a smile that crossed her lips as she listened to Dylan's story. Her day seemed eventful, and though almost negatively eventful, Libby was still jealous that she had a story to tell. "Mine? --.." she paused for a moment before clearing her throat. "Today is the first time in a few days that I've ventured out of my house, a-and a bird pooped on me before I got down my driveway."

#convo #c; dylan

elliefeatherstcne:

“You’re not following me, are you?” Ellie said after turning around to face the person who had been walking behind her for a little while. She was used to reporters waiting by her childhood home to ask about her parents’ divorce, and the fact that it was recently disclosed to not only Ellie, but the world too, that her dad wasn’t actually her biological one. “If you’re a reporter then please go find someone else to annoy, I’m not gonna talk to you,” she said, paranoid as ever.

Libby had head elsewhere, as she walked the path she usually took to get home, from Westbrook. True, it meant walking down a few roads in Kingsgate, yet she didn't mind that at all; she adored looking at the houses and gardens surrounding the roads. So she was surprised when the woman in front of her had turned around to her. "Oh, uh-- sorry, I'm not.. I'm just walking home, I always come this way." She replied, with an awkward smile crossing her lips.

#convo #c; ellie

logan-rigby:

“Don’t you worry, Little Libby.” He led the way to her room, feet padding up the stairs with an almost manic energy that wasn’t uncharacteristic of him when he was excited. Even more so when he had something he needed to forget, which was more often than he’d like to admit. “We’re gonna make sure you look the part of someone who’s actually going home with someone,” he said, turning briefly to her as they reached the end of the stairs. Then he pushed into her room and started rummaging through the clothes in her closet, particularly the ones hidden in the back for special occasions. Most of the outfits, however, were not what he had in mind. “Do you have anything that’s more, ‘I’ll let you buy me a drink’ and less, ‘I’m somebody’s chauffeur’?”

Libby sighed, a little silently, as Logan dragged her up towards her room with more energy than she thought she'd ever seen him with. True, it wasn't unlike him, but he seemed oddly full on energy at the simple idea of tarting her up. "--hey, what're you trying to say?" In all honestly, her sensitivity meant that Libby was hurt by what he said, and instead, walked over to the smaller wardrobe on the other side of the room. One that mostly no one even knew had clothes in. Opening it, she motioned to the multiple dresses and sorts that she had in there, heels included. "Knock yourself out."

#convo #c; logan

jamiefrench:

She didn’t need to ask if she could sit down, Jamie never minded. They were neighbours after all, it wasn’t as if they were strangers. He shrugged, giving her a smirk. “Oh come on, you never wanted to skip class?” He didn’t believe it, Jamie had countless days like that. “Everyone has wanted to get out of school early before— Or just didn’t want to go, you can’t tell me you’re the one person that hasn’t.”

The only time Libby had ever wanted to skip class, was when she was briefly getting bullied by someone who didn't know who her older brother was. Sure enough, after a week she certainly knew, and Libby was in the clear. But the blonde didn't want to admit that. So she simply shrugged, and chuckled lightly. "What can I say, Jamie.. I-I was a good girl."

#convo #c; jamie

pierre-marieattaway:

The large windows in the front of Pierre’s newest acquired piece of property acted as perfect portraits to frame the soft haze of that rainy, midsummer day. He could not think of better weather for the opening of his new storefront. Whatever this would become, he had always found his bookshops the most comfortable of small universes. Sturdy dark oak book cases lined two walls, with upright spines displaying mostly recognizable tales, canon works, with some unique books in German and French. In the center of the room sat an expensive brown leather sofa, a love seat to the side, with a stout apothecary table just in front to hold an expensive china tea set and a thick brown binder full of authentication receipts. Just beyond that were were two more brown tables full of Pierre’s favorite antiques, and finally, his vintage 1890s desk, full of papers, books, and pens. Pierre sat behind the desk, writing to his London office to send back his favorite portrait of the young boy. Behind him, in the back room, sat a modestly sized gallery of framed works. His own paradise. The golden bell above the heavy wood door chimed for Pierre’s attention. He peered up from his desk. “Welcome to Attaway’s, anything I can help you to find?”

It had been a fair while since Libby had been able to have any proper time off, just to herself. She'd been busy with her book, and with work, she even barely had any time to spend with her cats, let alone socialise. But one advert had caught her eye, one for a brand new antiques shop. It was rare, that there were antique's shops in Lanford. Vintage, of course. But not quite antiques. It caught her eyes, particularly because it mentioned they had old books.

She was caught off guard slightly, by his question, purely from the fact that she was looking around at everything the store had. Libby wandered forwards, an awkward smile on her face as she approached his desk. "Hi--.. I-I saw that you do old books, and.. I was wondering if you have any first editions?"

#convo #c; pierre #//this is so damn late I suck I'm so sorry

nateweston:

@libby-rigby

Going to a karaoke bar on a weekday, of all days, was far from his idea of a good time, however, he’d been manhandled into it by his coworkers, pleaded with excuses for him to let loose, as it were, that had almost been reasonable. One of which was that it was John’s birthday and he would’ve felt terrible if he’d missed it in favor of reverting to his old, reclusive habits. It must’ve done the trick, though, as he soon found himself lounging by the bar, leaning back against the ceramic as he watched Jan and Paul sing a duet that was really just meant for one person, but somehow, they made it work. He made no effort in holding back an amused chuckle as Paul tried to hit a particularly high note, finding that he was enjoying himself more than he’d like to admit.

He took the time to take a long sip from his drink during an interlude, surveying the dark room and the faces illuminated by spotty lighting, until he caught a glimpse of a blonde’s profile at one of the tables near the stage, not too far from where he was sat. Isn’t that—? No, it can’t be. He had to make sure, though, hopping off the bar stool with a light stagger (his tolerance for alcohol had decreased exponentially since he’d last gone out drinking in college), beer in hand, and made a beeline towards the table his gaze had been fixed upon. On the stage, the pair had resumed their duet and had, by some miracle, managed to harmonize the chorus. It went over Nate’s head, though, as he stood behind the blonde, focusing on mustering enough of the same courage that night. Fuck it. With a tap on her shoulder, informing her of his presence, he smiled, raising his free hand into a small wave. “Fancy seeing you here.”

It wasn't every day that Libby decided to actually agree to plans that meant she had to socialise, or drink at. Sure, more recently she'd been out and about and loving every moment of it, but it was simply something she got a little anxious about before it happened. But her friend had wanted her to at least come and watch them on stage embarrassing themselves, and she couldn't resist. The blonde had on an outfit of which she hoped looked flattering on her - which she tried to believe it did, from the few looks she got - and had arrived a little later than she originally intended.

Still, she managed to get a table near the front, after not quite managing to spot her friend, and sat herself and a glass of wine down. Libby realised that her friend was singing, and a sudden chuckle escaped her lips, laughing to herself as she caught her eye. She felt a tap on her shoulder, and she almost jumped, before turning to find someone who had been on her mind a little more than he probably should have been, lately. "Nate, no way." She smiled, the grin on her lips oddly automatic. "I didn't take you for a karaoke man." Trying to joke, she motioned to the spare chair. "You wanna join me, or.. are you here with someone else?"

#convo #c; nate #//its perf its perf #//ill say #//'jan' is libby's friend #//we could say she was the one to set them up ???

davis-sampson:

“Yes, well, give all the credit to your nephew,” Davis smiled, his tone pointed as he playfully glared at the infant dozing on his chest.

Libby chuckled as she glanced across towards him, a small look down at the child in her own arms, not quiet asleep, but getting there. "At least my niece isn't as smelly." She chuckled.

#convo #c; davis #//she holDIN HER

itsjamesbennett:

He knew he would frequent places like the Bear’s Den again once he’d returned to Lanford. He hadn’t had the opportunity until today, and sure enough, they’d upgraded a few things since he’d been here years back. Pool tables and assortment of other fun knickknacks. James was just messing around at this point, missing the ping pong ball entirely. “Thanks for the game, winner winner. I owe you a beer.”

A game of table tennis in the Bear's Den, was what made Libby's slightly uncomfortable trip there, entirely more relaxing. A little bit of alcohol, and an amusing game, had her chuckling and smiling the entire way through. She wasn't competitive, but she was glad that she won; it was a rare occurance. "Your offer." The blonde shrugged, wandering over towards him.

#convo #c; james #//but #//I had to

jamiefrench:

Fourteen days of freedom until schools in New York resumed and Jamie had only just got around to planning lessons and organising training sessions. To say he was pressed for time was an understatement, but just like every other year, he left it until the last minute. Coffee in front of him and laptop open, he was already bored and tapping a pencil across the top of the table before looking up at the person in front of him— “What’s the best excuse you’ve ever used to get out of class?” He asked curiously, taking a sip of his drink.

Walking into the familiar coffee shop, Libby was met with a sea of unfamiliar faces, asides from one. All she wanted to do, was read her book and yet it seemed there wasn't a table free in the entire shop. Instead, she wandered over to that one familiar person, and politely sat down, book in hand as he had his laptop in front of him. Jamie then spoke, and the blonde raised her head, eyebrows furrowed in curiosity. "--why would I want to get out of class?"

#convo #c; jamie #//may I say #classic libby?

philip-vogel:

Standing outside of The Cellar, Lip scheduled in some time to manage a quick smoke break between rounds of beers. He had just been watching cars pass by, and engaging in a few short-lived conversations here and there with other bar-goers. Though, just as he went for his second cigarette, something caught his attention– or rather, someone.

“– You say somethin’?”

Looking back, Libby probably shouldn't have been holding all of the loose pages she'd needed to send off to distant family, and yet she was. And funnily enough, someone clearly in a hurry had barged past her, papers falling to the floor into a scattered pile, without as much as an apology muttered. "God damn it." Kneeling down to retrieve them, she heard someone before her speak up. Perhaps she didn't say that in her head. "Oh, uhm-- no.. sorry, I just-- dropped these."

#convo #c; philip

ben-nash:

“You know, all they said during that stupid solar ecplise was don’t stare up at it.” His eyes automatically went that direction as he spoke about it before turning his head back down, “but why would people be so dumb as to stare at the sun for ages?” He shook his head, “honestly, on any given day, do you just stare at the sun for kicks?” A long sigh followed, “I think people are getting dumber.”

It was often that Libby visited her local park, and often that she overheard, or was spoken to and loved the fact that there were people brave enough to speak up, as if they knew her. "Uh--.. personally? I-I don't tend to stare at the sun, for a long amount of time." She frowned, and laughed all the same.

#convo #c; ben

ezrablake:

“And your first thought was to ask people in the book store, not call up your friends or whoever else you might know?” Ezra teased, patting her shoulder a bit before letting go. “I’m just playin’, you got me, you do. How bout we grab a coffee or something and you tell me what all this is about and what all I gotta do?” he asked, offering her his arm.

"Well.. you know, I'm not that logical." She chuckled, slightly. Libby, truthfully, had the unexpected job landed on her when she almost managed to walk out of the doors to end her shift. "Sounds good to me." Smiling softly, she took his arm and nodded.