Tybalt Gloryflower

AND HEY, I'M NEVER THE SAME IT'S A HUNDRED MILES AN HOUR ON A DIRT ROAD RUNNING AWAY

[lauriewestwood]

The Walk of Shame was named for Romeo Montague; leaving the portkey located in Muggle London with dark hair in a tangled mess, two leather Givenchy shoes in hand, and his wand hardly concealed in his suit pocket, he was a much more drained version of himself. For once, he didn’t care about the dark circles around his eyes, or his pounding headache, or the fact that he was missing a sock. Romeo knew that the best cure for a hangover this massive was to keep drinking (even at three pm).

Diagon Alley was as busy as ever, people crowding around shops and in the streets in packs. Although Romeo had every intention of pushing past the crowds and going straight to the Leaky Cauldron, he couldn’t help but see what all the fuss was about – the biggest crowd by far at the window of the broom shop. Admittedly interested, he too stretched to see the new shipment of brooms fresh in, wondering if an upgrade wouldn’t hurt.

“What do you think? Think I’d look good flying the new Nimbus?” he mused to the person next to him.

[tybaltforyou-blog]

“Well,” Tybalt said, his normally sunny demeanor tinged with frost. “I can’t say I think you’d look bad on it, but then again, you do have more experience than most with having a giant stick up your ass.” He paused and scratched his head. “And that’s coming from someone with a lot of experience having a stick up his ass, if you know what I mean.” 

Figures. The first fair day they’d had in weeks, and just when he’d thought it was safe to go strolling the boulevards in Diagon Alley, do some window shopping, work on his tan, Tybalt had to run into Montague. He considered briefly how his mother would have reacted, and could clearly envision her wrinkling her nose and muttering “The street is too pretty to be marred by such garbage.” 

She wouldn’t be wrong. Everything about Montague stank, from his his arrogant attitude to his skills on the pitch to his potent try-hard eau de toilette. “You know,” Tybalt drawled, “you’re supposed to use cologne sparingly, Romeo. I know your family isn’t exactly upper-crust, but you’d think someone would have taught you to spray it on lightly, not rinse your hair with it.”

[tybaltforyou-blog]

Sorry I’m late

“I hate to have kept the party delayed, but obviously I have, because it’s a truth universally acknowledged that a party don’t start till Ty walks in.” 

“Now then, who’s going to be the first to take off their fancy party clothes - you or me?”

[isalajefa-deactivated20180917]

“I swear–every time I check my workout bag the extra socks I pack are missing. Sure, they’re extra, but which of you keep on forgetting to bring your own and are schmoozing off of me?”

[tybaltforyou-blog]

If you don’t want me to snatch your socks, Hero, then you should probably stop bringing fuzzy ones with ladybug designs, kay?

I mean, at that point it’s your fault, not mine. 

[littlestcatapult-deactivated201]

Oh my god, you have to tell me these things before I make the creepy picture I took of him my phone background! Also, what the heck. I had our whole future planned out. Who’s going to be the love of my life now?

No, T, that did not happen! Okay, can I just say, it is extremely trashy for the Prophet to report on that kind of thing, like, are they trying to be serious journalists or second-rate paparazzi? Anyways, the fam can’t say a thing as long as we crush it in our first game and attract all the fancy donors with our awesomeness, which is a given, so whatever.

[tybaltforyou-blog]

I mean, if it makes you feel any better my information is unconfirmed. Plus, I mean, you could totally have a love of your life who sucks at sex and end up perfectly happy. I mean, I couldn’t, but you probably could. 

It absolutely did happen, and the fact that you don’t know that it happened is proof positive that you didn’t open the Christmas card I sent you this year. Hey, weren’t you batting your eyelashes at Poindexter Exeter recently? He seemed really nice, in that kind of way that makes you think to describe him as “really nice” before anything else. You could have ridden that train all the way to a public divorce if you’d wanted. What happened? 

[littlestcatapult-deactivated201]

So easily you forsake your morals. I wouldn’t stoop so low unless I was at least getting Henry Cavill. Or the other love of my life, the hot Puddlemere United seeker. You know I bumped into him at the Minister’s ball and we made eye contact for 2 seconds. He totally wants me.

Wouldn’t explaining my smell make the whole situation more uncomfortable? I don’t know, point is, you should talk me up to your mom so I can smell like a gardenia.

[tybaltforyou-blog]

If you can’t throw away your values for a man, what can you throw them away for, you know? Also, sorry to burst your bubble, but the Puddlemere United seeker is not that hot, and word on the street is there’s only one broomstick he’s any good at using.”

I’ll write her immediately. Dear Mother, please give Jules a chance, she’s much better than me and she probably wouldn’t get a naked picture of herself on the front page of the Daily Prophet from getting caught streaking like I did. Please don’t ever respond to this. Love you (lol). Signed, Huge Disappointment.” 

[littlestcatapult-deactivated201]

I don’t understand how you can possibly be Team Jamie. I mean, who did you root for in Cinderella? The evil stepmother? 

Oh, naturally. Maybe we should have them teach us. I feel like making a brownie is an important life skill. Hello, I don’t want to be a straight-acting jock! I’d love to smell like a gardenia instead of a grass stain for a whole week. I was standing in line for a smoothie after practice yesterday and I think the guy in front of me kept subtly trying to get away from me.

[tybaltforyou-blog]

Because he is Jeremy Jordan have you seen him with your eyes, Juliet? Have you seen him with your own two eyes? I would trade away my entire limited edition Andrew Christian jockstrap collection for the opportunity to give that man a sponge bath, so yeah, I’m Team Jamie. 

You really missed a prime opportunity to blame it on the wheatgrass shots, so that whole smoothie line incident was no one’s fault but your own. 

[anecdotalprewett]

“Celibacy might do you some good, Gloryflower. It might actually help you concentrate on the Quaffle for once. If you’re done feeling up what looks to be our Seeker’s undergarments, I might be able to take you a bit more seriously.” 

[tybaltforyou-blog]

“For once, he says, as if I didn’t win us that last scrimmage. Please. You can insult a lot of things about me, but my underwear and my quidditch skills are beyond reproach.” 

“Okay, these are definitely not Juliet’s because one - that’s so gross, dude, she’s my cousin, and two - that’s so gross dude, she’s a girl, and three - Juliet could block an engorgement charm with her chest and still not be able to fill out this enormous thing. Good to know you haven’t spent any time at all checking out my cousin’s breastage, though. It’s a huge relief, because obviously I’d have to beat the crap out of you if you had, and honestly you seem like the type who knows how to stab a guy in the artery with a fountain pen.”

[littlestcatapult-deactivated201]

Sorry, I have very important plans on Tuesday to watch The Last Five Years and cry.

Actually now that I think about it brownies would probably only enrich that experience. But let’s not forget the last time I tried to make something from scratch, also known as Great Red Velvet Incident of ‘07. Aunt Desdemona still refuses to hug me during Christmas.

[tybaltforyou-blog]

Excuse me? With whom? Why don’t you ever invite me to watch The Last Five Years on a Tuesday? Is it because I’m Team Jamie?”

Well obviously by “try all the brownies” I mean “have the house elves make the brownies and then sample them. Anyway, trust me, you’re better off without mom hugging you. Last time she touched me I smelled like gardenias for a solid week. It’s hard to live up to your reputation as “straight-acting jock” when you smell like a gardenia.

[littlestcatapult-deactivated201]

“Hello, people, I have a major emergency.”

“I made brownies from a box for my mom’s last tea party and everyone thought they were awesome, which yay. But also not yay because they just assumed I made them from scratch? And now I have six letters from old ladies on my windowsill asking for the recipe. Do I lie to the old ladies? I can’t, they use stationary with little hearts and flowers all over it!”

[tybaltforyou-blog]

Aww, shucks. I guess there’s only one thing left to do. 

Try every brownie recipe we can find until we stumble across a copycat that tastes just like the boxed kind but that saves your reputation. Look, I know it’s a huge sacrifice, eating dozens and dozens of brownies, but I would do it for you. As long as we do it on like a Tuesday.

[anecdotalprewett]

“What do you think you’re doing in here? And before you answer, I would think long and hard about which answer is least likely to get you cursed.” 

“I’ll give you to the count of ten.”

[tybaltforyou-blog]

“Okay, yes, I know, I know that even on the off season we’re supposed to maintain a proper sense of decorum befitting the noble reputation of our team blah blah blah and so on and so forth.”

“But Oliver, someone as overbearing as you has to know that this is not my fault. I don’t even know where this came from. Do you know the last time I’ve touched a bra? Me neither.”