#sydney.

[thoughtfulchaos773]

Um IDC about Claire, but I love a good romantic comedy. I think I know what MG is talking about.

I like this.

Wuh-oh.

[chxrrywiness]

closed starter for sydney | @solisfm

one week . they had had one week . and just one blackout had ruined it . when it had happened next to sienna it stung , when odds weren't in his and ardens favour ? it had made sense but this one ? there was a flow of hurt that had formed somewhere in his chest and seemed to spread . it had only grown more arms when the distance between himself and sydney had grown more than she could ever physically put space between them . one week . he had been wrapped up in her and eyes hadn't ever been tempted else where . 12 hours . that was how long it took remy to decide no light made a difference to him . a few hours more is all it took for him to decide she wasn't going to come to him and he was going to be the provider of comfort in this situation . a task he was more than up for . " you know . " he began , sinking down next to her in the sun lounger she was currently occupying , the space between them gone now . " i was thinking lavender tends to bloom best in the summer , and it means you're not going to have to worry about what you're wearing and if you'll be warm , so we would be working with a few months , but july , that's when they really peak . so that will probably be when i propose , late july sometime , if i book a trip to france around then , promise you'll act surprised anyway ? "

[forgaeven]

sydney doesn't know how long she'd sat there crying.

and she tells herself that she won't, that it's useless to, but it's— hard. it's fucking hard, because what do you mean he's leaving ? he– he was the one who dragged her into this, who convinced her that they could do this, and now he's– he's backing out?! and she– she gets it, you know. she gets that it's hard, that maybe creating a restaurant to somehow chase after your dead brother's ghost isn't really the wisest decision anyone could've ever made, but—goddammit.

behind her, the door swings open. fuck. she didn't think anyone's still here. she turns, sees that it's @centurie, and wipes furiously at her tears. ❛⠀i'm fine, i swear— ❜ she says, before he'd say anything else.

one-para starter call.

[ladyimaginarium]

GANGSTA. Tarot; Major Arcana.

[goldenyear]

[killmcpills-archive]

se despertó sin casi hacer ruido y se marchó antes de las 7 de casa. fue directa a la casa de apuestas y aunque perdió más dinero del que ganó, pudo recoger en la casa de empeño su reloj. durmió en su descanso para recuperar las horas perdidas y cuando su turno acabó, se fue directa al restaurante. viendo que la rubia ya estaba en su mesa, se dirigió con una gran sonrisa. “¿llego muy tarde?” miró el reloj, para que viese que lo llevaba puesto y se inclinó para darle un beso y sentarse en la mesa, las ojeras le llegaban hasta los pies. “¿has pedido ya el vino?” // @aphrotitts

[glxryhoskins]

Location: The Foyer Date: Friday, February 1 Time: Post-Game, Press Duty (@mccraysydney)

She’s gone this long without doing press duty, she hadn’t even thought to listen for her name until it had already come out of Wymack’s mouth. Maybe she should be thanking him: he isn’t throwing her to the wolves in a game where she’s had a red card, or even a yellow. Except for the fact that the Foxes lost, it’s as much of a softball as he can give her. 

But, of course, they did lose. Glory’s got a scowl on her face that she can’t wipe off as easily as she wipes the sweat from her brow, can’t make herself look pleasant after a game like that. She doesn’t try, it could be a story either way: if she smiles, she doesn’t care that her team just lost; if she scowls, then she’s difficult with the press. What’s the point in trying? She doesn’t know how to play these games. Even after she signed her contract and joined the Foxes, she still can’t believe that anyone could want to talk to her. 

The key, the media trainer had told them, weeks ago, is confidence. She’d scoffed, then, she hadn’t thought it would be a problem for her—she’d always been the stubborn one, the one who wasn’t afraid of anything. But as she takes her seat facing the gathered reporters, staring into the lights and the lenses of what feels like a thousand cameras, she feels herself faltering. 

She’s just Glory Hoskins. Just a girl from Owls Bend, Indiana. She doesn’t belong here. She can’t. 

“Tough game out there,” the first reporter says, and Glory imagines it’s supposed to be commiserating. “You guys looked strong against the Aggies, what happened?” Glory blinks, clears her throat. The microphone picks it up, and she just barely controls her wince. “Well, the Jackals are a better team than the Aggies,” Her voice sounds louder than she expects it to, echoing in the room. Her accent sounds thicker. She keeps going. “We just—lost. I don’t know what else there is to say. Obviously, I’m not happy about it.”  

She doesn’t know how much of an answer it is, but it’s what they’re going to get, and she leans back in her seat, away from the microphone. The reporter turns their attention on Sydney, then, and Glory gets a moment’s reprieve. “I’m sure that first goal is one you wish you could take back. Sydney, why don’t you walk us through what happened there?”