SEE ME. FEEL ME.

" 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗹𝗲𝗳𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝗻𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹𝘀. "

[ruinair]

𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯; 𝘢 𝘮𝘺𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦.

* dependent blog created for willowglenhq.

* cade devlin. thirty. private pilot. / intro * angelo carter. forty-one. retired nba superstar. / intro

[ruinair]

cade devlin | TASK  OO1  :  hey  wgn,  welcome  to  my  crib  !

what  neighborhood  /  complex  do  you  live  in  and  what  made  you  choose  it  ?

i live at the juniper , had all the features i wanted . it let me customise as much as i wanted and there was a lot of space to play with.

how  did  you  incorporate  your  personality  into  your  home  ?

first thing we did was get to soundproofing because i have a drumset by the windows which i use when i feel like it. it relaxes me. my mum fucks around with interior design , and we usually have this indoor - outdoor vibe going , but this time , i sort of compacted the lounge areas to the corners with the books and art so there'd be more floor space to move around in. the main living space , the kitchen , the home bar are all mood-lighting only. a space for relaxation in the evening , floor space for dancing. good to move your body. the bedrooms , bathrooms and study have a much softer theme , with a lot more light. two worlds in one apartment.

what  is  your  favorite  kind  of  house  guest  ?

the kind that can appreciate good music , good art have a proper drink and just relax , have a good chin-wag.

what  is  your  most  prized  possession  in  your  home  ?

my home bar probably.

if  your  home  had  a  soundtrack,  what  would  it  be  and  why  ?

house in la by jungle. the lyrics don't have much to do with why i'm picking it , it's more of the sensation you get when you listen to it. it's the sort of evening mood i wanted. a little mystery, the low light , the dreamy invitation.

[bvdsigns]

‎ HE  WAS  HALF-EXPECTING  the  guy  to  tell  him  to  get  lost,  surprised  that  he  was  even  allowed  within  five  feet  of  his  car—or  him,  for  that  matter,  but  he  had to  stand  his  ground  now,  gotta  try  to  figure  out  where  the  hell  the  sparks  plugs  were  located...  or  what  they  even  were.  "okay...  no  problem,  lemme  just..."  casually  sauntered  up  to  the  open  hood  with  feigned  confidence,  like  he  hadn't  only  ever  seen  a  car's  innards  like,  twice  in  his  whole  life.  he  never  really  had  a  reason  to.  a  hand  gripped  the  edge  of  the  vintage bronco's engine  bay  as  he  leaned  over  the  whole  compartment  to  survey  the  damage, hummed wistfully as if a single thought existed in his brain in that moment. his  popsicle  dripped  between  parts,  and  he  wondered  if  that  would  have  a  lasting  effect  on  the  car's  performance.  angelo  will  have  to  find  out  sooner  or  later.  "so,  uh,  you  movin'  back  here  for  good,  mr.  carter?  can  i  call  you  angelo?  can  i  call  you  ace?"  tried  to  buy  as  much  time  as  he  could,  his  body  blocking  the  nba  star's  view  to  conceal  the  fact  that  he  had  no  idea  what  he  was  looking  at.  "hope  retirement's  been  treating  you  good."

[ruinair]

the sticky melted redness has dripped somewhere it has no business being and angelo's silence thickens over the hood of the bronco , over the asphalt , over this kid , before he steps closer , shadow looming large across the engine bay , towering over the boy.

" boy , " he starts voice deafeningly quiet and even , " move the popsicle away from my engine , i'm still askin' nice. " his eyes move calmly and pointedly from the stick , to the boy's face to the hand braced on the bronco . “ n ' you can call me angelo. mr. carter if your mama raised you proper . ace is for television . don’t see no cameras out here , unless you hidin’ one in that pharmacy bag. ”

he reaches past the kid without touching him . there is space and there is permission ; the two are not always the same . one long finger points toward the belt . “ that there’s the likely problem . not spark plugs . i don’t know much , but i know enough to know you don’t either . ” his phone is out of his pocket , scrolling to find a number he can call .

[lovehards]

               would  probably  need  about  a  thousand  hands  to  be  able  to  count  how  many  times  she's  been  told  to  relax  ,  to  let  the  chips  fall  where  they  may  despite  the  fact  that  she  had  always  felt  she  needed  to  be  the  one  to  put  them  there  precisely  .  still  ,  she  offers  him  a  playful  scoff  ,  eyes  rolling  though  she  finds  his  desire  to  want  the  make  the  staff's  lives  a  little  easier  to  be  sweet  .  "  you  know  ⸺  they  are  ,  quite  literally  ,  getting  paid  to  clean  up  after  you  .  .  .  it's  not  a  bad  thing  to  leave  a  glass  or  two  hanging  around  ,  gives  them  something  to  do  ,  "  god  knows  the  importance  of  keeping  the  staff  occupied  ,  their  own  boredom  often  the  culprit  for  most  things  that  went  wrong  .  "  i  like  to  think  i'm  the  picture  of  grace  under  pressure  ,  "  a  trait  that'd  served  her  well  ,  especially  in  situations  like  this  .  "  do  you  know  the  morgans  ?  or  are  you  just  really  passionate  about  livestock  preservation  ?  either  way  ,  it's  nice  to  see  you  around  .  .  .  i  think  you  might  be  friends  with  beau  ?  i'm  his  wife  ,  amara  ⸺  well  ,  fiancé  ,  but  you  get  the  gist  ,  "  she  teases  .

[ruinair]

here  comes  the  intrusive  thought:  what  if  he  simply  said ,  ' who's  beau ?   ma ' am  you  have  me  confused  with  someone  else ,  but  you  have  my  best  congratulations .  i'll  be  leaving  now ,  thank  you  for  the  hospitality . '  here  he'd  thought  he'd  been  discreet .  had  been  hoping  that  the  cover  of  dim  lighting  and  thicker  facial  hair  had  been  enough  to  give  him  a  ticket  to  relative  anonymity .

he ought to have known better . ain't no corner of this country he could hide in , especially not here . willow glen could identify a man by the way he holds his drink or close a car door it recognises its own signature etched into every person that belongs to it regardless of how much time might've passed .

the glass shifts in his hand , thumb running once along the rim , cleaning condensation as it goes . the staff are paid to clean up after you . sure . some things could be true and still sit wrong with him . he'd question the grace under pressure part too , if the way she'd been talking about junior bartender over there had been any indication .

" braver man might do that , but my mama would have my hide . woman's got a radar for these things . " he offers her a practiced smile , though his gaze warms a little at beau's name in spite of himself. conrad's baby brother , angelo's brother too always seen him that way . " beau is family . he's a good man or he better be , standing next to a capable young lady like you . " he offers her his hand , manners catching up . " angelo. nah , just giving back to community , doing what i can and then duckin' out . it's a pleasure to meet you amara . i've heard good things . "

[bvdsigns]

‎ HE WAS GOING TO TOWN on a cherry popsicle in one hand, his refilled prescriptions in the other, when he saw the ace carter just casually hanging in the parking lot. or, stranded was probably more like it, judging by the state of his stalled vehicle. now, julian knew nothing about cars other than he can drive one as well as the next guy, but ask him anything about what's under the hood and all you'd get for your trouble was a blank stare and an indifferent shrug. but it wasn't everyday that he got to talk to a basketball legend, and he decided to make the most out of a rare situation. "bad spark plugs," pulled right out of his ass with the confidence of a retired mechanic that even he was surprised at himself. he didn't know where he got that from, must've just parroted something he'd heard from one of his garage visits. didn't realize he'd even retained that information or that he'd been paying attention at all. it's amazing what the human brain can do. "mind if i take a look?" popsicle dripped onto the asphalt as he gestured towards the car.

[ruinair]

it's a bizarre sight : boy's got a red popsicle bleeding down one hand , pharmacy bag in the other looking like a kid eager to go home and watch cartoons after runnin' errands for mom .

" bad spark plugs , " somewhere deep down , angelo highly doubts it , but he's willing to let the theory stand , whether out of politeness or morbid curiosity on how far this kid is willing to take it , is unclear . he slides to the side , giving the guy some space , " go on then , doc take a look , " the mirth bleeds out of his voice. “ but if you fix it with a popsicle in your hand , i’m tellin’ everybody in town i found the second coming of my daddy outside the pharmacy . ”

[honeyheir]

          beau   barked   out   a   laugh   ,   shaking   his   head   as   he   followed   angelo   inside.   "   bullshit   ,   "   he   said   immediately.   "   you   mean   to   tell   me   you   got   championship   rings   sittin'   around   collectin'   dust   while   the   rest   of   us   gotta   hear   about   'em   every   thanksgiving   ?   "   his   grin   widened.   “   that   right   there   is   how   i   know   you   made   it.   normal   people   put   trophies   on   shelves.   rich   people   lose   'em.   ”   the   house   got   a   quick   once   over   as   they   walked.   beau   whistled   low   beneath   his   breath.   "   hell   ,   ace.   this   place   is   nice.   "   he   hooked   his   thumbs   into   his   pockets.   “   quiet   too.   i   get   it.   guess   not   everybody   wants   half   of   willow   glen   drinkin'   their   liquor   and   askin'   stupid   questions.   ”   there   was   genuine   affection   in   his   voice.   it   was   easy   slipping   back   into   this.   easy   talking   to   angelo.   growing   up   ,   there   had   always   been   something   reassuring   about   him.   older.   steadier.   the   kind   of   guy   who   could   tell   you   to   shut   up   and   you'd   somehow   feel   better   afterward.

 at   the   mention   of   his   life   ,   beau   groaned   dramatically.   “   see   ,   that's   exactly   why   i   should've   thrown   the   party.   would've   saved   me   havin'   to   explain   all   this.   ”   he   dropped   onto   the   couch   and   spread   his   arms.   “   alright.   no   polite   version.   ”   his   smile   softened   despite   himself.   “   i'm   engaged.   ”   the   words   still   felt   strange.   exciting.   terrifying.   "   proposed   a   couple   weeks   ago.   she   said   yes   ,   thank   christ.   "   he   rubbed   a   hand   over   his   jaw.   “   her   name's   amara.   smartest   woman   i   ever   met.   prettiest   too   ,   though   she'd   kill   me   if   i   led   with   that.   ”    for   a   moment   he   stared   at   the   floor   ,   smiling   like   a   man   who   didn't   quite   know   what   to   do   with   his   own   happiness.   “   problem   is   my   mama   hates   the   whole   thing.   ”   there   it   was.   the   shadow   beneath   the   shine   ,   beau   leaned   back   with   a   sigh.   "   actually   ,   hate   might   be   too   strong   a   word.   let's   call   it   aggressively   disapproves.   she's   got   this   idea   in   her   head   about   who   i   oughta   marry   and   somehow   the   woman   i   love   didn't   make   the   shortlist.   "   he   laughed   dryly.   "   which   led   to   a   whole   mess   of   arguments   ,   guilt   trips   ,   threats   to   move   away   ,   and   enough   southern   passive   aggression   to   qualify   as   chemical   warfare.   "

 he   glanced   toward   angelo.   “   and   somehow   i   ended   up   drivin'   through   a   damn   thunderstorm   to   dallas   in   the   middle   of   the   night   because   i   thought   i   was   gonna   lose   her.   ”   his   grin   returned   ,   smaller   this   time.   “   so   yeah.   that's   where   i'm   at.   i'm   gettin'   married.   my   mother   is   conductin'   psychological   warfare.   and   i'm   happier   than   i've   ever   been   in   my   life.   ”   he   pointed   toward   angelo.   "   your   turn.   i   just   spilled   my   guts.   what   the   hell   have   you   been   doin'   besides   buyin'   houses   and   hidin'   championship   rings   from   innocent   people   ?   "

[ruinair]

beau gets to have his light digs and his whole speech uninterrupted . angelo's eyes are trained on beau , spine relaxing as he settles into the chair across from him with one ankle hooked over the other , temple resting on two fingers as he listens intently . he clocks the grin , the nerves under it , steadily gathering an understanding as to the particular weight and scope of the predicament beau is in . beau's waiting for the other shoe to drop while remaining helplessly hopeful that this time , it just might not , that he might be allowed to just be . angelo understands the feeling . he's felt it before .

“ first of all , ” he begins , the same two fingers pushing off his temple to point at beau , like he's about to call a play . “ you call me ace one more time in my own damn house , i’m gon’ start callin’ you conrad junior 2.0 junior and see how that sit on your spirit. ” as children , beau had always needed to wait to be invited in. angelo hates the idea that beau thinks it's necessary to choose to stand at a door that's never closed , to settle for standing at the altar , content with mere proximity to it.

the threat is firm , reminiscent with his mother's steady tone and her efficiency with a wooden ruler held aloft , but his mouth is already curving upward at the corner . “ and second , congratulations , man . for real . about time . proud 'a you. ” his arm relaxes as he leans back , arm extending over the back of his seat and crossing one leg over the other again just as his kitchen help arrives with a warm plate of sausage cheddar biscuits and dip . " thanks so much berta , you go on home now , i got it from here . " he nods at beau to help himself .

“ amara's a pretty name , ” he agrees , pouring beau some cold water . “ and if she’s half as smart as you say , then somebody’s grandmama been prayin’ over you , ’cause that kinda mercy don’t just fall out the sky . ” gaze drops for a second to the floor between them . conrad should have been somewhere in this story . laughing too loud , giving beau deliberate bad advice just to toy with him .

“ as for your mama , ” he says , drawing a breath through his nose , he can't imagine vivienne's approval is easily won . he hadn't understood what turned that tide himself , he struggles to believe she is as one dimensional as has been painted to him by both brothers . “ nothin' she's doin' is unique . mother - in - laws makin' their daughter - in - laws life difficult is a tale as old as time . once you're actually married , that's your family . don't go makin' a marriage out of everybody else's comfort . that house gets crowded real quick . but i should go see her too . ” he might lift some load off beau if vivienne felt heard . like an ally had come home . " focus on you . "

when beau lobs the conversational grenade back at him though angelo laughs , hands spreading “ what've i been doin’ ? it's all out there . firin’ people . dodgin’ calls . pretendin’ retirement was a thoughtful life decision and not me walkin’ out of the room before somebody set the curtains on fire . they all just wanted to talk about the boat and that fuckin' guy . seemed rude to waste all them cameras so i told 'em about what 'd be next for basketball , ” his shrug has an old kind of tired behind it , begging to be spared from the sympathy , because sympathy only came with more questions.

“ truth is , i don’t know yet . i came back here to hear myself think . so naturally my phone got agents , shoe people , documentary people , some fool talkin’ about a tequila brand , and now you tellin’ me some girl way outta your league's about to make an honest man outta you and your mama’s fixin' to riot the whole thing outta the way . ” his grin returns , wry . chin jerking beau's way .

“ bring amara by sometime . after i've been to see vivienne . i’d like to meet the woman who got you drivin’ through weather like a dramatic fool properly . ”

[r3spair]

      ˏ            🕯️            she   is   feigning   an   acute   focus   on   the   shelf   of   assorted   ‘   all   natural   ’   cereals   in   front   of   her,   doubtful   of   which   bland,   beige   box   to   put   in   her   basket.   the   most   appropriate   option   would   plausibly   be   that   which   contained   the   most   fiber,   but   the   one   with   the   little   dehydrated   strawberries   might   make   a   tolerable   variation   on   routine—   mm.   alright,   perhaps   this   is   not   wholly   charade.   pearl   did   need   the   cereal.   she   would   struggle   with   such   decisions   even   if   unbothered   by   a   face   so   familiar;   and   this   one   did   bother   her.   she   knew   that   she   knew   him.   but   how?

 she   sneaks,   or   does   think   she   sneaks,   another   brief   glance,   as   she   had   been   since   happening   upon   him,   before   returning   to   her   many   choices.   pearl   picks   two,   and   begins   to   compare   their   nutrition   labels,   side   by   side,   when   at   last   interrupted—   “   huh?   what?   ”    startled   by   this   voice   aimed   in   her   direction,   by,   it   would   seem,   being   caught   out,   she   drops   the   lighter   of   the   two;   or,   juggles   with   it,   comically,   to   prevent   it   from   slipping   from   her   hand,   before   it   finally   does   so.   “   um.   coffee?   ”   she   has   to   really   think,   for   a   moment.   she   does   know   where   it   is.   she   must.

 a   beat,   and   then   another—   “   .   .   .   right.   coffee.   aisle   six,   i   think.   unless   they’ve   moved   it   since   last   week.   hah   .   .   .   um.   ”   her   throat,   unexpectedly   dry.   croaking,   nearly,   “   do   we?   i’m   sorry.   do   we   know   each   other?   ”

[ruinair]

it's the soft dull thud he registers before his eyes follow , cereal box on the floor after making a bid for freedom . light dances in deep browns , doing a whole lot more smiling and sniggering than his mouth will . he ought to apologise for startling her . if that 's what happened . thumb brushes his lower lip as if reminding it to take the appropriate shape .

" aisle six . cool . appreciate you . " he's about to move when the question he's so used to hearing comes . do we know each other ? people seldom asked directly . they looked first , and in the looking gave themselves away . the pause , the narrowing of the eyes , the little search through memory . then the shame of recognition , like knowing him without his explicit say so is something they know they're helping themselves to . a theft .

he bends to pick up the fallen box . " probably not . " he's said the words so many times they flow out of him on autopilot . it's when he straightens and approaches her basket to deposit that he's looking at her up close . lips part , eyes narrow , neck slants ever so slightly . there's a divot deepening between his brows , movement slowing . it's the eyes . he knows those eyes .

" pearl ? " what had her last name been ? fuck his memory is failing him , it might come to him in an hour or two , but for now " pearl . " he repeats firmly with more certainty .

[ruinair]

location : amber lounge for : @coyotetm - dealer's choice

" that your mate ? " he tips his head to the person next to him , gesturing ahead of them . " got to be you they're wavin' at , s'definitely not me . " this is a lie . some fine - mannered bible thumper he'd run into on his fridge run who's desperate to help him find jesus . something about him seems as if it needs divine intervention and the fact that his last name is devlin hasn't helped. " refill ? " he asks helpfully , waving the bartender over.

[ruinair]

location : decade    nights    at    vortex  , 90s edition for : @revclaticns - dealer's choice

vortex is so packed that he has to turn sideways to get to the bar , torso brushing hard against denim jackets , bright coloured adidas tracksuits , low - rise jeans , and slipping past metallic accents , animal print or camouflage bandannas and iced out lip combos , damn maybe the 90s were a cry for help .

he orders an appletini and stays where he is , back to the counter , watching the room commit to the bit , his head mildly moving to the beat of robbie williams' let me entertain you . the truth and irony of you gotta get high before you taste the lows . somewhere behind him , the chorusline starts and half the club loses its mind on cue.

“ i don’t know who needs to hear this , but nostalgia’s gotten a bit cocky . ”

[honeyheir]

                  ꗃ   ˖   ⊹    beau's   face   lit   up   the   second   he   recognized   him.   a   grin   spread   ear   to   ear   ,   genuine   and   effortless   ,   the   kind   that   came   from   seeing   someone   who   reminded   him   of   simpler   days.   he   closed   the   distance   without   hesitation   ,   dapping   ace   up   before   pulling   him   into   a   brief   shoulder   bump   ,   one   large   hand   landing   firmly   against   his   back   in   familiar   greeting.   "   what   ,   this   old   thing   ?   "   he   asked   ,   glancing   down   at   himself   as   he   adjusted   the   cuffs   of   his   shirt   with   exaggerated   importance. 

 he   waved   the   compliment   off   immediately.   “   ain't   got   nothin'   on   those   championship   rings   you   got   tucked   away   somewhere.   hell   ,   i   think   i   saw   one   of   'em   reflectin'   sunlight   from   three   counties   over.   ”   the   joke   came   easy   ,   followed   by   a   warm   laugh. 

"   look   at   you   ,   man.   "   beau   shook   his   head   ,   still   smiling.   “   i   swear   every   time   i   see   you   ,   you're   either   winnin'   somethin'   ,   signin'   somethin'   ,   or   makin'   the   rest   of   us   look   lazy.   ”   his   expression   softened   then   ,   the   excitement   giving   way   to   something   more   sincere.   "   when'd   you   get   back   to   willow   glen   ?   "   he   asked.   "   and   why   in   god's   name   didn't   you   tell   me   sooner   ?   "   he   pointed   at   him   accusingly.   "   that's   offensive   ,   actually.   would've   told   my   girl   to   throw   you   a   proper   welcome-home   party.   food   ,   drinks   ,   the   whole   damn   thing.   probably   would've   had   half   the   town   show   up   before   the   night   was   over.   "

[ruinair]

“ championship rings ? ” he says the words as if he's just been accused of keeping peacocks in his backyard. “ boy , don’t start that mess on my porch. mama’s got one of ' em somewhere holdin' down a stack of essays , and the rest are probably wherever my people decided they’d photograph nice. ” he looks amused at his own statement , the way he understands it , even his people have people these days.

the laugh still comes easier than it has in weeks. beau has that effect without trying ; standing there all grown and polished with the family name sitting on him like good tailoring , emblematic of everything angelo has missed. it suits beau and for a second , angelo catches himself looking for the boy who used to hang around the edges of things , waiting to be included. the years sure have done their work. even so , it’s beau. little brother by angelo's inheritance , whether anybody had said so out loud or not. he steps back to let him in , closing the door behind them.

“ i got back a couple days ago. quiet. which was the whole point , before you started threatenin’ me with food , drinks , and half the town breathin’ in my foyer. got hella lucky too , got this house off the market real quick. ” his mouth pulls into something dry , fond. “ offensive would’ve been lettin’ your girl turn my private sanctuary into a catered - event. ” he doesn't even want to know if there's some insane free day off at the high school commemorating some championship game that feels like it's from several lifetimes ago.

he looks beau over again , a touch more scrutiny in his gaze. the weariness always comes. not reading it on beau just means he's better at hiding it. “ you though. suit , girl , accusations. got a whole life out here and ain’t nobody send me the programme. ” he leads beau towards the lounge. “ you hungry ? come on. tell me what i missed. and don’t clean it up neither. i been gone too long for the polite version y'hear ? ”

[lovehards]

────               embrace  is  taken  in  full  stride  ,  squeezing  him  perhaps  a  bit  too  tight  like  she  has  to  in  order  to  make  sure  he's  real  .  it's  a  relief  to  hear  aunt  isolde  is  still  just  as  eccentric  as  she'd  remembered  ⸺  nice  to  know  some  things  just  never  lose  their  whimsy  .  "  oh  ,  so  she  brought  you  in  as  back  up  ?  "  she  teases  ,  laugh  slipping  from  her  lips  at  the  thought  of  the  two  of  them  as  roommates  .  "  absolutely  fucking  not  ,  she'd  kill  you  and  i  think  that'd  be  her  being  kind  enough  to  put  you  out  of  your  misery  ,  "  could  only  imagine  the  chaos  ,  the  reversal  of  roles  in  their  scenario  quite  funny  when  she'd  pictured  it  in  her  head  .  "  juniper's  quite  nice  though  .  .  .  i've  got  a  few  friends  that  live  there  but  i'm  out  in  magnolia  ridge  now  ⸺  redbud  still  seemed  a  bit  too  stuffy  for  me  despite  the  fact  that  i  sort  of  grew  up  there  ,  "  hated  how  traditional  it  all  seemed  ,  the  colonial  pillars  ,  picture  perfect  lawns  ,  streets  that  stretched  as  wide  as  the  eye  could  see  ⸺  aria's  life  craved  a  bit  more  personality  than  that  .

"  maybe  ,  um  .  .  .  "  suddenly  ,  she  feels  shy  ,  not  sure  if  the  moment's  too  soon  or  an  invitation  over  to  her  house  is  too  strange  given  their  history  ,  but  always  operated  under  an  open  door  policy  ,  and  this  was  no  different  .  "  maybe  you  can  stop  by  for  a  bit  when  you're  free  ?  we  can  catch  up  properly  ,  i'm  sure  you're  busy  with  the  move  but  if  i  know  you  at  all  i  know  you've  probably  not  got  a  proper  meal  in  since  you  landed  .  .  .  i  can  make  that  carbonara  you  used  to  like  ⸺  if  you  still  like  it  ,  of  course  .  .  .  or  we  can  order  in  ,  i  don't  mind  really  ,  you  know  i'm  not  very  picky  .  "

[ruinair]

he's gazing at her as she speaks , those giant dimples that squeezes his heart everytime it makes an appearance ( which is always ) is almost as warming as her laugh , he smiles faintly along , helpless to deny himself. " i suppose she's heralded my kelly rowland era. i mean i did envision myself as the swashbuckling assist arriving in the nick of time , but when you put it that way , " a hand smoothes down her arm , squeezes. he can't help himself.

the laugh that follows is an abrupt - startled thing , " you joke , but that might actually have happened. it's so much worse now. see last time she was that young cool aunt with the impressive taste in liquor and weed , now it's like she's gone mental. got a chip on her shoulder , complains about everything , gets indignant about the smallest fuckin' things . . . dunno what's wrong with her , it's like she's perimenopausal or something , " it's a joke , he is joking , and only too late does he realise how male he sounds in the moment — eyes widen slightly , " oh. " he's about to formulate some sort of apology or expression of remorse when what he's said sinks in further , the likely accuracy of it — eyes widen further still , hands make a tent over his mouth , looking at aria like he needs her to tether his soul to earth , since it's clearly leaving his body , " ohhhhhhh . . . oh no. must've been why she had a meltdown about the electric barbecue. nearly took my eye out over it. okay definitely not crazy i didn't mean that. it all makes sense now. "

he blows air out of his cheeks , flapping a hand at the colour that's crept up his neck. " discovering many things today . " his lips purse and he slants his head , " you wanted your own little spot . makes sense. yeah i quite like juniper , reno's all done , finally got the art in , nice bar like we always talked about. my collection's grown by the way. started paying attention when i travelled. shaping up to be very . . . comfortable , " he finishes with a slight spread to his lips as his fingers toy with the ridge on his lower . " yeah . . . i'd like that. but only if i can make a dish of my own. it'll be simple. "

[fcksgone]

walking the hallowed halls of the university on her free time was one of talia's favorite pass times . she went here herself , too involved in her academics to be in any of extracurricular or greek life . all of those were distractions , something that took away her mind from its true purpose . she'd walked this path many times , passing right by the glass trophy case without giving it a glance . never interested in the old trinkets that resided inside . today , however , the femme noticed a male standing in front of it , staring at one photo in particular : the one of the football team . head turns to glance at the case , diverting from her original path . as she nears , her reflection gives her away immediately . there is a silence between the two as neither speaks , both just glaring into the glass with wondering eyes . talia finds herself next to him , a shoulder brushes accidentally as frames stay still . he speaks in a questioning tone to her , gaze drifting from the gold statues to him then back again . ❝ i honestly think that look was never in , as the kids say . i'm sorry but that was a horrible look . ❞ she replies with a soft laugh .

[ruinair]

a laugh spills softly out of him before he can help it , low and surprised enough to fog the surface of his coffee when he lifts it closer to his mouth. damn. not even a charity lie from the girl in the hallway.

“ horrible , huh ? ” eyes still on the glass , taking in the old photo with fresh offence. “ see , i was hopin’ for somethin’ more like . . . misguided , maybe. or brave for the time. you went ahead and put the boy in the ground. ”

he finally turns his head to give her a proper look. figures , she must've been in diapers when the picture was taken. “ you go here or you just wanderin’ these halls offerin’ honest criticism to framed children ? ”

[fawnvinyl]

                        "   honestly,   i   don't   even   care.   "   she   deserves   a   reward   for   how   much   of   a   liar   she   is,   the   way   she   thrusts   straw   into   the   ice   of   her   drink   like   a   mountaineer to show how much she means it.   "   i   mean,   i   do   ...   but,   i   don't   wanna   seem   clingy,   you   know   ?   like,   mega-clingy.   "   person   is   kind   enough   (   look   up   the   definition   of   forced   )   to   listen   to   woman   ramble   on   at   the   bar,   having   become   a   regular   occurrence   by   now,   until   it   was   time   to   send   her   home   by   uber   or   phone   call   to   a   familiar.   tonight   was   just   another   one   of   those   nights.   "   i   want   him   to   know   i   like   him   without   saying   i   like   him,   i wish   he'd   go   ahead   and   say   something.   one   of   us   has   to   say   something.   "

as   if   she   can't   be   bothered   to   be   the   one   to   bring   it   up,   words   freezing   up   in   her   chords   until   all   she   can   mutter   is   a   sullied   nothing   when   prompted.   "   i   don't   want   him   thinking   i   only want   him   for   the   hook-ups,   or   hanging   out,   or   his   smile   ...   or   his   ...   really   wide   ...   shoulders   ...   "   sentence   starts   drifting   off   somewhere   else   when   she   realizes   she's   not getting a response,   finger poking against their shoulder.   "   are   you   actually   listening   to   me,   or   are   you   letting   me   talk   ?   i   could really use   your advice.   "

&. open starter, vortex @ 8pm.

[ruinair]

the straw stabs into her drink with an audible crunch , which in itself is a feat considering where they are. a stranger telling him her romantic woes had not been on his bingo card tonight , but he'll suppose this is par for the course in the south anyhow. butt of his palm cushions the line of his jaw , feigning attention with slightly narrowed gaze after she's jabbed him with that toothpick of a finger. have you been jabbed by a toothpick ? it hurts.

" really wide shoulders is a specific kink , i must admit , " he quips deadpan , before free hand comes up in surrender. " i'm listening , " he is letting her talk. " go on give me more information. what hints have you dropped. "

[ruinair]

location: near pharmacy for: @bvdsigns - dealer's choice

the hood of his car's up in the pharmacy parking lot , standing in the dull afternoon glare with the faintly embarrassed patience of a man accustomed to experts and currently surrounded by none.

the car is not broken , probably. it has only begun making a small , accusatory sound from somewhere inside the engine , the kind his father would have identified before angelo finished describing it. three seconds , maybe less , then a look over the hood that would have contained both instruction and exasperation — you hear that and kept drivin' boy ?!

he braces one hand on the frame and looks down into the machinery , willing competence out of stillness.

“ you any good with cars , or we both gon' look concerned at it ? ”

[ruinair]

location: local supermarket for: @r3spair - pearl

the store's rearranged itself from his last memory of it. ought to be expected , of course , things optimise , he can understand that , but what really makes his stomach cave into itself is that he can't actually remember the last time he shopped for himself. not outside of being somewhere and pointing to things that someone else would ring up on his behalf.

he moves slowly , re-orienting himself with the fact that the cereal is where the coffee used to be , the paper towels are where the cereal used to be. there's a cap on his head hopefully obscuring most of his face , but he knows he's still being watched , something he's been ignoring for the past five minutes. now he'll just have to admit he's a little out of his depth.

" hey. " he calls over , knows they're listening , don't matter how discreet they're being. head tips sideways , “ don’t suppose you know where they hide the coffee now ? ”

[ruinair]

location: angelo's new house on redbud for: @honeyheir - beau

he'd swung the door open ready cuss a motherfucker out about a damn documentary they all but been blackmailing him to agree to — can't a man take a second to fuckin' breathe ?

what he sees though , is a time capsule in human form. his face splits into a wide white grin , like its careful countenance has been injected with warmth from the hearth. there's maybe some slyness to it too , the one that touches the features when you're about to show a kid a magic trick.

" well look at you , my boy's all grown , sharp in a suit 'n errythin' ! man , get in here , bring it in. "

[ruinair]

location: FLO's for: @unchampion - ivo

of all the empty booths at flo's, he'd picked the picnic table because it was outside, off to the side where patrons would pass him without a second glance , out of the natural line of sight.

his half - eaten pie sits in front of him , going soft in the heat ; phone face down beside the plate. it'd buzzed seven times in the last twelve godforsaken minutes.

so far , two strangers have waved , one's valiantly pretended not to stare , someone across the street has definitely taken a photo and then pretended they were checking google maps.

a shadow crosses the table , his phone buzzes again. he doesn't move to touch it and instead sets his fork down , slow and neat beside his plate , spine rolling as if he's about to stretch against his will.

“ if you’re here for the pie , it’s good. if you’re here for me , i'd recommend the pie instead. ”