#i'd rather be a lil numb | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kikiiswashere · 1 year

Note

Thank you so much for commenting on my post, first and foremost! ❤️

One of the ideas I have, that I hope you're up for writing, is along these lines...

Reader w/ a temper, but it only shows when she's in a fight, or if someone insults anybody she's fond of. She has had horrid prior relationships and fears ever trying again, so she tends to just stick to being alone outside of working as an assistant for Silco.

While she's intoxicated, she overhears a patron (rather boldly) badmouthing Silco in his very establishment, and decides to get into a brawl with the patron. That's when she realizes that she's developed some strong feelings for her boss, and ultimately, she ends up having to explain herself directly to Silco, including why the fight started in the first place.

If possible, a resolution/response with Silco after her drunk admission to feelings would be so awesome. ;-; I'm always down for angst, too.

I'd love to see it written, but again, only if you're up for it! Thanks again! ❤️

Thank you for your patience with this, Love! Thank you for letting me breath a little life into your OC/Reader-insert.

I hope you like it <3

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Recover

Summary: See Ask

Warnings: None/SFW, canon typical violence, drunken confessions, a lil' bit of vomit

WC: 5.6K

Notes: Silco x Reader . . . ? Maybe??

Free drinks were one of the perks of your job.

It made the sting of working as Silco’s assistant mellow just a tad.

You knew most would assume that the sting came from the kingpin’s turbulent temper, his meticulous micro-managing, or his insatiable appetite for power. And while each of those attributes could be challenging at times, none of them actually got under your skin. On the contrary, they were traits you admired: his passion, his vision, his drive.

Admired . . . yes, that was the word. You would entertain nothing else.

There was no point to anything else.

A sardonic huff burst through your lips, sending the bourbon beneath them rippling in the glass. Knocking back the last of your drink, you set the tumbler on the bar top with a hefty, slightly careless thunk. Thieram looked up from the glass he was drying, brow furrowing.

“Another, please, Thieram.” You tapped the bar for good measure.

Thieram gave the glass in his hand a couple more squeaky wipes before setting it down and turning to the wall of liquor behind him. As he fetched the expensive bottle from the top shelf (if all your drinks were free, why not lean in?) your eyes slid around The Last Drop. While it was late, it wasn’t quite late enough for the bar to be in its infamous, full, raucous swing. Older, tired Trenchers (people left over from Vander’s days) sat heavily at the bar around you; small huddles of weary faces sat shoulder-to-shoulder at tables; a small group played a relatively quiet game of billiards over at the large, felted table.

As Thieram returned and poured another two fingers-worth into your glass, your eyes spied Sevika at the far end of the room. A murky plume of smoke rising above her and the two men she was currently swindling in cards. Her full lips hooked in an insufferable grin around her cigarillo as her playthings upped their antes. The next thing your eyes meandered to were the stairs that led to The Drop’s upper levels. To the club’s balcony. And then the private quarters. To Silco’s office. Where you had left him after he thanked and dismissed you for the day.

A perfunctory thanks mumbled from your mouth as you lifted your freshened drink to your lips. The liquor burned delicious and warm down your gullet, grateful for the way it soothed your tired body, relaxed your tangled mind, and numbed your aching heart.

Placing the drink down, your hand swiveled the bottom of the glass against the lacquered bar top, watching as the liquor within spin in a small whirlpool. You didn’t want them to, but your eyes lifted to the neon clock above Thieram’s head. In about an hour’s time, you knew, the club would fill with younger, louder Zaunites and the more rambunctious of Silco’s goons. The lights would pulse. The music would rattle the bar’s foundation. Cheap liquor would flow. Shimmer would be smoked. Gambling. Soliciting. Probably at least one fight.

And he would be there.

You hated that you knew that. Hated that you still knew your ex’s schedule. Hated that he didn’t have the decency to frequent a different club, knowing that this was the one you worked in. He had been the one to break up with you, so his insistence on showing his stupid face was aggravating and spiteful.

You’d be loathe to admit it, but it hurt you.

And it hurt that he knew that, but he still came to The Last Drop like clockwork. Like the time you spent together was some sort of meaningless joke.

Asshole.

At least he hadn’t been as bad as . . .

You stopped that thought in its tracks and knocked the rest of your drink back. A mistake, you quickly realized, as your esophagus rebelled against the onslaught of liquid fire trying to surge its way to your stomach. Catching the cough behind your teeth, some of the beverage rose back up into your mouth where it found refuge in the rounded bubbles of your cheeks.

Luckily, no one but Thieram seemed to notice.

“Smooth.”

Wrestling down the wayward booze, you sneered at him. “Swallowed wrong.”

“Uh-huh,” he grunted. “That stuff isn’t meant to be shot. Didn’t the boss explain that when he first let you taste it?”

Another unwelcome, unfounded zing scratched across your heart.

You bit the inside of your cheek and glared at the bartender. After a beat, you pushed the empty tumbler across the bar toward him and firmly tapped the space next to it. Thieram’s deep set eyes fell to the glass, unimpressed.

“Don’t waste it this time,” he warned, snatching the heavy ornate glass bottle back off the shelf. He poured a finger’s worth and turned to put the bottle back.

“Hey!” you cried. Thieram stopped and looked back at the incredulous expression on your face. Gesturing to the too-empty glass, you said, “What gives?”

His fingers tightened almost protectively around the neck of the bottle.

“I don’t want you wasting it,” he answered. “I don’t need Silco asking me why the books aren’t adding up at the end of the month.”

Your eyes rolled so far back that you thought you might’ve glimpsed your brain.

“Free drinks are part of my compensation, Chuck.” A thrilling, warm tingle shivered under your skin as you watched him flinch at the nickname. “Silco allows me that bourbon. Pour me that bourbon.”

Thieram hesitated a moment more before he stepped back up to the bar and tipped an additional splash into your tumbler. Holding his gaze, you brought the glass to your lips – pinky up! – and took an exaggeratedly small sip. He pursed his lips and rehomed the bottle on the top shelf, surreptitiously nudging it a little farther back than its neighbors, before tending to other patrons at the bar.

With the barman’s attention gone, your hackles drooped and a heavy, lonely feeling pressed under your skin. You took another sip of your drink, relishing the warmth wrapping you up from the inside out. As you continued to nurse and appreciate the fine liquor, the unwelcome sense of being watched interrupted your balmy journey into inebriation.

You may ‘only’ be Silco’s assistant, working relatively safely within the confines of his office . . . and at his side –

That weird little zing ricocheted behind your ribs again, like a little bird beating its wings against its cage, trying furiously to free itself. You cleared your throat and your mind of the previous thought.

You may ‘only’ be Silco’s assistant, doing paperwork and pushing pencils, but you had worked for him long enough, lived in Zaun long enough to know when you were being eyeballed.

The rim of the tumbler rested on your lower lip again, and while you took another smooth sip your hooded eyes nonchalantly skirted the bar. No one seemed to be paying you any mind, instead favoring shoulder-cramping hunches that kept their eyes in their drinks. Setting your glass down, you swallowed and casually turned right and left on your stool, miming a search for your bag. As you did so, your eyes briefly lifted to the patrons who were closest to your sides.

Bingo.

A stool down from you to your right, some old codger kept sneering at you and then muttering into his beverage. Continuing your charade, you turned your attention back to your drink. Your elbows rested steadily on the bar top and your hands gently cupped your glass. The amber liquor within wavered a bit, the surface catching and flashing the bar lights prettily. A too-steady calm grounded your bones. You waited and listened.

“What was that?” you asked suddenly and sharply, snapping your head in the man’s direction.

The man jerked in his seat, his drink sloshing a bit over the rim of his tankard. Grumbling, he snatched up a bar napkin and wiped away the small spill. He looked over at you.

“What?”

“That’s what I asked you,” you said, voice steady and cold. “Did you say something to me?”

“For Janna’s sake,” he muttered dabbing the napkin against his scraggly mustache and beard. “I didn’ say nuffin’ to you.”

“Oh? You keep staring at me and then mumbling into your ale. You sure you don’t have anything to say to me?”

The liquor in your veins began to bubble with stupid courage. Normally, you would ignore such a person. Tonight, however, the combination of booze, an aching heart, and a weary mind was sending a confrontational itch under your skin. You spun your body on your stool to face the man and sneered at him. Booze streaming hot reactivity through your body swiftly washed away the thought that this might not be a wise idea.

The man glowered back at you, his teeth grinding together. You prayed he took the bait.

After a moment, he clucked his tongue against the back of his teeth and answered your prayer.

“I ‘s just musin’,” he began, bleary eyes falling back to his mug, “how it is tha’ Silco,” he said the name as if it were a rotten, dirty thing to be spat into the dirt, and it made your temper flare, “can afford t’ stock the bar wif that fancy dreck – which I ain’ never seen an’one but you drink, by the way – but apparently don’ave the coin to fix th’mess he’s made.”

Your fingers tightened around your glass. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The man scoffed and took another sloppy swig of his beer.

“The Drop ain’ what’t used t’be,” he slurred, almost nostalgically. “Vander’d blow ‘is lid if he could see the place now.”

“Vander betrayed us,” you spat, putting the same emphasis around The Hound’s name as the man had around Silco’s. “He made deals with Topside that kept Zaun from progressing.” You licked your lips, deciding whether or not to delve this argument further into the murk with another controversial topic. Taking the plunge, you added, “And then he abandoned the Lanes with his kids when they screwed up. Silco came in and cleaned his mess up.”

The man’s eyes lit up with a fire that almost took you aback. “Abandoned us, did’e? Naw, girl. I’m no fool. Vander was’n trouble, but he’d never skulk off wiff his tail ‘tween his legs. Not The Hound. I know tha’s the lie you n’ the rest o’ his lot try’n tell us, but I’ll lick Heimerdinger’s boot a’fore’ll believe he left wiff’is kids to leave the Lanes in the slimy hands o’ that rat-faced bastard.”

He took another swig of his ale, half of which dribbled down his chin.

“’Sides,” he continued, “Vander didn’ take all them chitlers wiff ‘im, did’e?” His eyes slid upward to the balcony above you.

Against your better judgement, your head turned and tilted up. A scrawny leg with a too-big shoe dangled from the edge of the upper-level, gently swaying off-beat to the jangly music that filled The Drop. Jinx didn’t seem to be paying attention to anything but the small handful of metal scraps between her fingers. A screwdriver was tucked between her lips and her brow was crunched in concentration as she fiddled with her contraption. She was allowed to meander around The Drop until night fully fell and the club became rowdy with debauchery. At that point she was sequestered back in her and Silco’s living quarters an additional floor up.

“Even though that one’s always been a’bit of’n . . . odd duck,” he continued, “Vander wouldn’t’ve left her.”

“Leave her out of this,” you warned through grit teeth. You’d taken a shine to the young girl Silco brought back from the cannery and your protectiveness of her was only rivaled by that of Silco’s.

The drunk huffed a wheezy laugh. “Oh yeah, wouldn’ wanna bad talk the great Eye of Zaun’s crazy new toy.”

Your fingers squeezed so tightly around your glass that you were surprised it hadn’t shattered.

“I worked wiff’im, Lass,” he slurred, leaning in with a condescending sneer etching his face in deep, craggy channels, “in the mines. Him n’ Vander. Was always a selfish, meddlin’, no-good pipsqueak. Always tailin’ after Vander, ridin’ his coattails. Even now, tha’s what he’s doin’. Vander did all the hard work t’get The Lanes steady n’ then that opportunistic rat scurried in with his mindless, spineless goons n’ did ‘im in. Silco don’ care a lick for t’Undercity. He’s an ugly, schemin’, chinless, buck-toothed – “

You were not in control of what happened next. Even though you were the one who reacted. In a flash, your drink – your expensive drink – was thrown into the man’s face. He cried out and squeezed his eyes tightly as the alcohol burned them. Next, you smashed your tumbler over his skull. The glass shattered and he wailed, toppling off his barstool.

Blood pounded in your ears. Your vision tunneled in on the man scrambling off of the floor. Your arms and legs tingled with adrenaline and fire, rage curdling your blood, as you launched to your feet. Swiping the man’s tankard from the bar and hurling it in his direction. So blinded by your fury, so intent on beating the bastard to a pulp, you didn’t hear or see the bar’s reaction to the sudden fight.

Thieram had yelped and dropped the bottle he was pouring from. The other patrons at the bar jerked their attention away from nursing their drinks; some even backed up and away from your fray. One of the people at the billiards table jumped and scratched a jagged hole in the table’s felt top. The two men playing cards with Sevika spun in their seats, and the Lieutenant herself dropped the cards she was shuffling. Jinx’s body jolted and she tucked her legs up into her chest, big, dewy eyes wide with fear as she watched you attack the man. After a moment, she leapt to her feet and ran upstairs.

The man managed to throw an arm up that prevented the mug of ale from clocking him in the temple. The beer spilled across the floor and the stein bounced and rolled away under a table. Grabbing the man by the collar, you hauled him to his feet, intent on smashing his stupid face into the bar railing. However, as you lifted him (with strength you didn’t know you had) his hand swept across the bar, grabbed a dirty glass and cracked it across your face.

Yelling, you stumbled back, bumping into your stool. One of your hands cupped your numb cheek and felt wetness beneath your palm. He lunged at you, crashing his head into your ribs and wrapping his arms around your middle, causing you both to tumble back.

You hit the floor. Hard. Your spine spasmed and what air was left in your lungs was forcefully pushed out in a stinging wheeze. Your hand wrapped around the leg of a barstool and pulled, crashing it onto your assailant’s back. Something cracked. He roared. Hooking your legs around his waist, you squeezed and rolled the two of you over. Now on top, you bared your teeth and pummeled his face with alternating punches.

Too soon for your liking, a large metal hand grasped the back of your neck and lifted you off the man’s chest. Hissing and kicking, you did your damnedest to try and break free from Sevika’s grip. She was saying something to you – dressing you down – but you couldn’t hear it through the mighty pumping of your vengeful heart. To your abject horror and disgust the man clambered to his feet and spat some teeth onto the floor. He fixed his eyes on you, hot and furious, and took a step towards you and your keeper.

“Back off, buddy. It’s over,” you managed to hear Sevika say.

Over? Over? Like hell it was over! The idea of letting this ass-hat walk out of here after bad-mouthing Silco and Jinx renewed your need to fight. The idea of having to return to your melancholy mind sent destructive fear through your veins. Wriggling under Sevika’s iron grasp, you managed a lucky kick to her groin. She gasped and buckled forward, dropping you.

Freedom sent adrenaline surging through your veins and you launched yourself back at the drunk, fists thumping against his ribs. He coughed and sputtered, staggering back. Clawing at your shirt, he immobilized you enough to jut his knee up into your stomach. A choked cry tore from your bloody mouth and you fell. Before his boot found your hand or head, you scurried back, grabbing a pool cue someone had dropped. The cue extended your arm enough that is it swept through the air it caught your adversary behind the knees. He buckled and crashed to the ground with an outraged wail. As you rose to your feet, you thrust the cue in Sevika’s direction as she made another grab at your shirt. The larger woman snarled, but you didn’t care.

The cue smacked and cracked against the floor as you tried to deliver a blow to the fallen man, but he rolled out of the way and used a grip of the bar railing to clamber to his feet. Abandoning your broken weapon, your hand found a tight grip in the man’s dirty hair and you bashed his face against the bar top. Once again, you failed to notice his wandering hand and he spun back, clocking you across the face with a liquor bottle.

You screamed and reeled back into Sevika’s arms. Before your attacker could hurl himself back at you, bottle in hand, his eyes suddenly went wide and he screamed in agony. You were confused until you saw a familiar, lanky, red, coal, and gold figure in your wavering periphery.

The man was stopped in his tracks by the knife Silco had speared through his free hand, pinning him to the bar. The Eye of Zaun’s lips curled in a bone chilling sneer and he yanked the bottle from the drunk’s hand. To his credit the bloodied and beaten man did not cower in Silco’s presence, despite the Eye’s imposing figure and the blade skewering his hand. The two men stared at each other; Silco’s chin held high, glaring down his nose at the drunk. The drunk huffed breaths through swollen and bloody lips, his eyes bulging with hate as he looked up into Silco’s face before spitting into it.

Without missing a beat, the kingpin cracked the bottle across the drunk’s temple. His eyes rolled back and he collapsed, slumping against the bar, the knife tearing into his hand as the weight of his body heaved to the floor.

“Back upstairs, Jinx,” Silco barked as he took a pocket square from his waistcoat and wiped the saliva from his scarred cheek.

Your eyes jumped over to the stairs and you saw the young girl watching all of you with wide, scared, but interested eyes. Her hands fidgeted and tugged at her shirt’s hem and her bottom lip was tucked safely behind her top teeth. She looked to Silco and then to you, her eyebrows ticking up behind her jagged bangs.

“Jinx,” Silco insisted, firmly yet kindly.

Her eyes went back to him before turning heel and pattering back upstairs.

The Eye of Zaun turned back to the bar, his eyes landing on you, still slumped in Sevika’s arms. Since his appearance, your wrath had ebbed, replaced by a sense of embarrassment and . . . something else. He looked down at you, taking in your injuries with practiced neutrality. Perhaps you wished it, but you thought something flickered behind his eyes.

It couldn’t be worry, could it?

Before you could search for the look again, he turned his attention to the unconscious man at his feet. His lips curled.

“Get him out of here,” he ordered Thieram. “Tell Lock and Jasper he is not allowed back on the premises. Sevika, take her up to my office.”

An annoyed groan rumbled through the Lieutenant’s arms as she hauled the both of you to your feet. Now that your adrenaline had time to wear off, physical pain was beginning to creep its way into your consciousness. A weak, protesting garble slurred past your swollen lips as Sevika lifted you into her arms. She ignored it, as well as the weak wiggle you gave, and followed Silco back upstairs.

Once in his office, Silco strode to his grand desk.

“Put her on the couch,” he said as he began sifting through the desk’s drawers.

Sevika did so, probably with more care than she wanted to do. Your bottom melted into the couch’s cushions and your spine heaved against the tufted back. Now that your head was back over your shoulders, your vision swam and your brain throbbed.

“You’re dismissed,” came Silco’s voice.

Sevika’s fuzzy form hesitated only for a moment before stalking out of the office, slamming the door behind her. You couldn’t bring yourself to turn your head to look at Silco. Partly out of self-consciousness, partly because your stomach was beginning to curdle and squeeze and you feared you may vomit all over your employer’s furnishings.

As if sensing your thoughts, Silco appeared in front of you, a garbage pail in one hand, a cloth and bottle in the other. He set the trash can next to your knee and sat himself down on the coffee table across from the couch. You made a point to stare at the spot above his head.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

You scoffed, protecting your ego from the ridiculous question. Even though it did take you a beat to remember it. You heard yourself finally answer. Silco nodded as he uncorked the bottle.

“Do you know my name?”

“Silco.” That one was easier.

“Do you know where you are?”

“In your office . . . in The Last Drop.”

“What nation do you live in?”

“Zaun.”

A more satisfied nod bobbled Silco’s head as he dampened the cloth with liquid from the bottle. It smelled strongly of astringent. Too strong. Your stomach roiled, sending you pitching over your lap and vomiting into the wastebin. Silco set the antiseptic and cloth down and reached forward to pull your hair away from your face.

Once your throat was raw and your cheeks streaked with tears, you carefully sat back up, Silco’s hands on your shoulders, gently guiding you back. Once you were propped up, he returned to dosing the cloth.

“What happened?” he asked, leaning forward and pressing the saturated cloth to your cheek.

You hissed at the sting and squeezed your eyes shut. An action that sent another almighty throb through your skull.

“I fought a guy.”

“Yes, that’s what Jinx told me,” he said patiently, dabbing blood off your cheek. “What led you to assault a customer?”

Your now empty stomach dipped. Was he angry? Disappointed? Were you about to be fired? Your jaw moved side to side and you chewed on your tongue, not realizing you didn’t answer his question.

Silco’s dual-colored eyes searched your distant face as he continued to wipe it clean.

“I’m wondering if I hired you for the wrong position,” he quipped. Your breathing stilled as you looked at him. Silco didn’t smile, so you assumed your rattled brain was imagining the small tilt of his lips. “I didn’t know you were so quick on your feet or ferocious in a fight. Perhaps your skills are wasted being my assistant – “

“I like being your assistant.”

The words flew from your mouth before you could stop them, much less think about them. Silco stilled in his attentions and your face flushed horribly. Embarrassment bolstered by liquor coursing just under your skin in cherry red splotches.

Silco’s face softened, as did his voice. “I like you as my assistant, as well.”

Your heart fluttered something horribly wonderful behind your ribs. The flush of your cheeks deepened.

“That doesn’t answer my question, though,” Silco said, tone back to something commanding. “What cause did you have to fight that man?”

Once again, you averted your gaze, dropping your eyes down to your cracked, bruised, and bloodied knuckles.

“He . . . he,” you stammered, unwilling to admit what had sent you into such a blind rage.

The sound of Silco saying your name pulled you from your whirling mind. You bashfully looked to him, seeing his aqua and red eye fixed on you.

He really does have lovely eyes, the liquor in your blood whispered.

Silco spoke before any other intrusive thoughts could sing under your skin.

“You know I value loyalty above all else,” he said. “Honesty is a tenant of loyalty. Now tell me, why were you fighting that man?”

“Because he was speaking poorly of you,” you admitted, your eyes darting away from his.

Silco’s hand paused in its cleaning of your face. You felt his eyes on you in a meaningful way. He let out a small sigh before taking up one of your hands and began to tend to your knuckles.

“There are plenty of Zaunites who do not agree with my leadership,” he mused and you watched his fingers tend to your own.

He held your hand so, so softly. Not as if he were fearful of hurting you, nor as if he didn’t want to touch you. He held it reverently. You couldn’t remember anyone ever touching you in such a way.

“Even the Chem-Barons have their qualms about me,” Silco continued. “For the most part it is petty jealousy parading as gossip. Childish, but benign and meaningless. I will not spare my thoughts or energy on those who do not like me. I am only interested in freeing Zaun.”

Well, I’m interested in you, the booze swimming in your head countered. You hiccupped as a means to stop that thought from coming out of your mouth.

“Why do you give your attention to such people?” he asked, switching the hand he was working on.

“Because everyone should understand and respect how hard you’re working,” you mumbled through swollen lips. “They should be grateful for your passion.”

His thumb swept affectionately over the top of your hand as he cleaned your knuckles. It was the action that proved to be your undoing. Sighing, you allowed your careful mind to rest and let the looseness of liquor coat your insides. Your fingers curled gently, awkwardly around Silco’s hand. It was very warm. Soft in some places, but firm in others where chronic calluses used to blossom and build. His hand stilled in your own, but he made no attempt to pull away. You weren’t certain, but he may have even firmed up his own grip.

“I am grateful for your passion, Silco,” you murmured. Finally, you lifted your gaze to his. “I like being your assistant because I get to see you up close. Your passion, your vision, your drive. It inspires me. I’ve never seen anything like it. I wouldn’t want to work the streets because I wouldn’t get to be with you.”

Silco’s lips parted infinitesimally, and his blue eye widened a touch. He reached his free hand up and gently touched your sore and swollen cheek. An unbidden hiss swept through your teeth and the swell of your cheek rose up in a wince. The little wonder left Silco’s face, his brow furrowed and hand dropped away.

“No!” you cried, vocal cords cracking under the sudden explosion of sound.

Your body leaned forward to chase his hand, but the bourbon and fight made you body sloppy and heavy. The lean veered over to the right, and you would’ve toppled ass-over-tea-kettle if Silco hadn’t caught you, his large hands cupping each shoulder blade. The plump cushion of your cheek smashed against his chest and your leadened arms looped around his thin waist.

“You smell good,” came the drunken mumble from your lips, voice muffled by the silken fabric of his waistcoat.

Silco’s ribcage spasmed in a huff. You weren’t sure if it was amusement or disgust. However, as his hands pressed into your back and held you closer, your foolish heart leapt, fueled by disbelief and hope. The warmth brushed against the scarred wounds etched in the organ, and your logical brain surged back on line. But before you pressed yourself away from his chest, Silco rested his cheek against your hair.

“Thank you,” he whispered, “for your fierce and unwavering loyalty. For me and Jinx. For Zaun.”

Like a switch, your brain flipped back off and your drunk heart melted further against his. After some time, Silco carefully lifted you up, his hands shifting to hold the fronts of your shoulders. Your watery gaze slid up to his. Once again, he went to brush his thumb against your bruised cheek.

“This cut is very deep. I’m wondering if – “

Silco’s wonder was cut off by the press of your mouth on his. A most un-kingpinly squeak peeped out from him, but he didn’t pull away. He tasted like cigars, Shimmer, and warmth. And home.

With a loud smack! you broke away from him and flopped onto the couch.

“I like you, Silco,” you slurred, eyelids and head growing heavy.

Your feet shifted against the rug, knees knocking in together as you considered standing.

“I should go,” you yawned. Your legs didn’t move. “Am I walking to the door yet?”

“No,” came Silco’s voice. A combination of something amused and baffled. “You’re not leaving, anyhow.”

“No, no. I can’t stay. You’ve already done enough – “

“Nonsense. You’re concussed. And drunk. You’re staying.”

Silco rose to his feet, cupping the back of your legs, gently spinning you on your seat until you were horizontal on the couch. He propped your head and back up with several cushions and retrieved a blanket from the steam trunk behind the couch, covering your body.

“Silco, you don’t have to do this,” you grumbled, although you did nothing to stop him.

“Shush. The Brothers and Sisters of Zaun are loyal to each other. I will work and keep an eye on you,” he murmured, brushing the hair out of your face.

“Are you doing this just because I said I liked you?” The question mumbled through your lips, as you rubbed your face snuggly into the back of the couch.

“No,” he answered. You were on the fringes of a drunk sleep, so you weren’t sure if you imagined him saying, “I’m doing this because I like you, too.”

It felt like you slept a thousand years. At least, you felt like you were a thousand years old as you awoke the following morning. Your body ached, but it was nothing to how your head throbbed and pounded. The bed beneath you felt strange and stiff. Perhaps because it wasn’t a bed at all, you realized, but a couch. You dared to crack your eyes open and you saw red upholstery. Then you smelled . . . cigars.

Your body jerked and jolted up. An action you quickly regretted as the column of your spine spasmed and skull exploded. Groaning, your arms gathered around your knees and dropped your forehead to them. As quickly as your addled brain could piece thoughts together, the previous night swam up in wavering ripples and puddles.

You nursing a chronically aching heart with the expensive bourbon Silco allowed you.

Listening to some twat talk out his ass.

Knocking said twat on his ass.

But he got a few hits in, too, remembering a glass and bottle to your dome.

Silco stopped him before he could rattle you any further.

Silco tended to your wounds. He pulled the hair from your face when you threw up.

Cautiously glancing down at the floor, you spied a clean waste basket. On the coffee table there was a tray that held a silver pitcher and a waiting glass. And a bottle of painkillers.

Your stomach reeled, but not from your aching head. How you had behaved, what you had said, what you did flooded your mind. The blood and warmth drained from your hungover face. Nervously, your eyes peered over your shoulder.

Thank Janna.

He was not at his desk. You might still be able to get out of here with what was left of your dignity. Gingerly, your feet found the floor and your toes flexed inside your boots. Gripping the seat cushion, you prepared to haul yourself onto your woozy legs, but your eyes got stuck on the tray of water and medicine in front of you. Where he had sat.

Silco tended to your wounds. Held your hair from your face. Held you to him when you tumbled forward. He didn’t pull away when you kissed him – GODS! You couldn’t believe you did that! You knew better! Professionally and personally. He didn’t rebuke your drunken . . . confession . . .

The ground felt like it crumbled beneath your feet. Your insides went cold.

You liked him. Not just admired. Liked. Crushed. Infatuated.

Despite the fact that prior relationships had taught you better, you fell again. For your boss.

For the Eye of Zaun.

You were screwed. You’d never recover from this.

The office door opened and you jumped.

“You’re awake,” Silco noted, closing the door behind him.

He was dressed just in his trousers and button-up shirt. His hair wasn’t quite coifed yet and his scar laid bare. The green light streaming in from the window beyond his desk bathed him in an eerily beautiful light. The picture of Zaun itself.

His face was soft in the morning and its light. He smiled.

“May we talk?”

Maybe you wouldn’t want to recover from this.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Notes: Thank you for reading this too long one-shot! If you liked it, please comment/reblog :)

#silco #silco fanfic #silco x reader #ask kiki #soft silco #drunk reader

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illarian-rambling · 21 days

Text

Thanks for the tag and the fun questions @mk-writes-stuff!

OC Question Game

My questions:

What is the weirdest thing you’ve ever watched someone do?

How do you usually talk to customer service workers?

What’s the most bizarre dream you’ve ever had?

I'll be ambitious for this and go with the extended Mortal God cast

1) What is the weirdest thing you’ve ever watched someone do?

Astra: "I saw some dickhead alchemist strip down to swim in the N'Diki swamp once. When I asked 'im why he'd do such a braindead thing, he jus' said the 'natural salts were fixin' to balance 'is humors.' I reckon the only thing the dumb bastard ended up gettin' balanced was his parasite to blood ratio."

Mashal: "I swear I've seen Astra pull a vial of acid out of her bra, use it to melt solid iron, then put it back."

Ivander: "In some distant corners of Unity, where the factory runoff meets the alchemical waste among the canals, fish speak to you. I swear it on my good name."

Elsind: "There was this spit-turner girl I knew once who took her tea with molasses. ...Maybe that's not so weird now that I think about it."

Avymere: "I watched a man die of fright once. I didn't think that was possible."

2) How do you usually talk to customer service workers?

Astra: "I try to be a little stranger n' normal. In an entertainin' way, ya know? Give 'em somethin' to chat about over lunch break."

Mashal: "Always treat a person of the lowest station as you would a person of the highest. It's the honorable thing to do."

Ivander: "It's a transaction. I don't want to be there. They don't want to be there. No need to pretend this is anything more."

Elsind: "I always get so nervous! I don't want to be rude, or make their lives more difficult. What if I'm a bad customer?"

Avymere: "Always make a point to be polite to the person who delivers your food, or else who knows what else may be delivered with it. Servants hold the lives of nobility in their hands. Ill-treated servants act on this."

3) What’s the most bizarre dream you’ve ever had?

Astra: "There was this one night - I'd had a touch too much to drink and maybe a lil' somethin' besides - when I went to sleep, only to find myself dreamin' 'bout fallin' asleep. Again and again, I'd dream about fallin' asleep, only to start another dream 'bout fallin' asleep. It was damn trippy is what it was. Last time I touch alchemist-blend kishra."

Mashal: "I don't sleep, so, uh, do I just make something up? I dreamt once that I was riding a horse, only to remember I can't ride a horse, even though I definitely know how in real life. ...Never mind, that was stupid."

Ivander: "There was this one dream I had where I was a soldier sent to fight a great bear. It slashed one of my companion's eyes, so we took snow off the ground to numb the wound. Except, the bear came back, so we had to leave him behind. The last thing I can recall was looking back at the blind man, snow covering his eyes, as he felt his way towards death in all its slavering glory."

Elsind: "I had a dream once that I was an elf. My face was always one thing, and it never slipped. My body was so rigged and stiff. I could only breathe and see and hear out of my face. It felt awful, which was... reassuring in a way."

Avymere: "When I was a child, I had a reoccurring dream about climbing a mountain. It was summer like summer never is in Skysheer - all flowers and buzzing bees, rather than melty frost and rain. I've rarely seen such balmy weather in my life, so I wonder why my subconscious decided to paste it over my home."

Tagging @frostedlemonwriter @kaylinalexanderbooks @somethingclevermahogony @wordfather and anyone else who wants to play :)

Your questions are:

What's your favorite legend and why?

How do you celebrate your birthday?

What's something you'd regret if you died without doing?

#one of those dreams is one I've had #try to guess which one >:)#writing #writerscommunity #writblr #my ocs #question game

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robynlilyblack · 2 years

Note

I don’t mind - Free pass to ask me anything, from writing, to my life to something completly random

Fav singers/bands?

Songs/Artists you listen to when you're sad? When you're happy? When you're excited?

Under rated singers/bands?

Have you ever been to a concert if so for who?

What concert/tour would you most like to go to right now?

If you could go back in time to see artists/singers who would be the top five you'd go see? (I'm assuming queen will be on the list who in thier right mind with access to time travel wouldn't go see queen)

Also kind of off theme here but fav authors?

Fav singers/bands -

Have to say growing up in i was a huge arctic monkeys, foo fighters and taylor swift fan, now i still love them but i also really like 80s stuff, i honestly am so bad with peoples names i go off of that sounds good 😅 like i’m that person that has one random ass song from every album/artist

Songs when i'm sad -

Heather by conan grey, Smother by daughter, bit of Taylor in there too

Songs that make me happy -

Can't take my eyes off you by Frankie Valli just reminds me of ten things i hate about you has major sirius/freddie vibes (heath ledger in that movie is how i see sirius)

Juice by lizzo (but also harrys cover makes me smile every damn time at the dms bit)

Scotty doesn't know by lustra makes me laugh

Girl in red also makes me happy they're music is just so easy to listen to

Numb little bug by em Beihold again smile on my face because i can relate

Songs that make me excited/dance -

Da ya think i'm sexy by rod stewart, even before tiktok made it popular that song is a jam

Everybody talks by neon trees

Out of my leaugue by Fits and the tantrums (also handclap)

ABBA, i mean how can't you?

Mr blue sky by electric light orchestra

Underrated, i terible at known who is underrated but heres one i think are great -

neon trees

Ruelle

There this guy called Joel Sunny that does violin covers of songs

Day wave (heard these guys in a video game and i liked the vibe)

Marina and the diamonds (their songs are just catchy)

Concerts

I have never actually been to concert! But i would like to maybe see girls in red or even harry styles (just cause his concerts just look cute and fun, don’t they?)

Travel back in time -

Yes queen 100%, imagine actually seeing them live it would complete me

Blondie

The cranberries just to see and hear her sing zombie live

The beatles

Prince

Fav Authors -

I don't really have favs authors but i have books i like, I don't think i've bought a book in years which is something i defo want to change and is rather bad for a writer isn’t it? I've read alot of Jane Austen and writers similar to her, I liked hitchhitchers guide to the galxy because it was so ridiculously funny, i've read Narnia, Oz i, I'd love to read LOTR, i only read the hobbit. As a writer i feel a lil disapointed with the list maybe in the future i'll have a better one 😅 feel free to give me suggests because the above is dire

#robynsasks #Robyns600Celebration #exposing myself a lil bit

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seriedesiluetas · 5 years

Text

Tonight I've been reading poetry and listening to Phoebe Bridgers and crying and I don't know if I can fully articulate it but. I used to be so ashamed of being so easily affected, always quick to feel, feeling, feeling, always far too much. I used to try to harden myself, to pretend like things didn't reach me quite so deeply. But like my heart is my heart and I'm even crying while I write this post and it's not sadness nor madness, I'd argue it's just love. There's power in tenderness, I think, and I'm glad that I'm not hiding from it anymore even if I feel like my heart is being squeezed.

#Idk if this even makes sense!!#I hate than I feel embarrassed by how I feel things #I'd rather feel deeply and being too sensitive than just being numb #depression for me is mostly cold and numb #in not feeling anything lies the despair #im not going to read it bc I don't want to delete it out of shame #but I want to remember and im trying to let myself exist in peace #I hate being mocked or feeling dumb just for being a lil sensitive

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damiano-mylove · 3 years

Text

Come Home With Me

Pairing: Thomas Raggi x GN!reader

Wc: 1.6k

Cw(s): Lil bit of swearing, friends being dicks, drinking, smoking, nothing bad really (tell me if it sucks)

Summary: Thomas spots you at the bar one night, and its as if the two of you are soulmates *not a soulmate AU, just really fluffy*

Masterlist

"Come home with me."

What the fuck was wrong with this boy? This drunken stranger at the bar? He was beautiful, he was a grace to look at. But he was still young; young enough to not quite be able to hold his liquor well.

You smiled to him and leaned against the brick wall behind you, taking a deep drag from the fag between your fingers. "And who might you be?"

"The man who's gonna marry you!" He announced as he leaned beside you, against the wall. His eyes closed heavily but his smile had never weakened. Innocence came off of him in waves, with just a hint of allure. It was a strange mixture, but not unheard of. Just as the stranger relaxed, his friend came over; seemingly, he had been looking for your handsome stranger.

"Thomas! Jesus, Man, we've turned the joint upside down for you," he laughed, putting his hand on your stranger's shoulder. Thomas' friend smiled you, as he pushed his dark hair over his shoulder. "He saw you in the bar and had been wanting to talk to you for hours. I'm really sorry about his state."

Once again, your small chuckle filled the air along with your smoke. "He's quite sweet." Your eyes drifted from Thomas' friend to Thomas, himself. He was looking at you with a face red from bashfulness along with a boozy glow. You looked back to the friend. "Is he always like this? Even sober?"

"Not quite," Thomas' friend chuckled, looking at Thomas and shaking his head. He looked back to you as you threw the butt of your fag into a tray. "What're you doing out here? You can smoke in there."

"My group ditched me. I was waiting out here to see if anyone would come back for me, but alas I am on my own," you explained with a numbed smile.

Perhaps it was an overshare, but you couldn't control your words. Not entirely. It was your friends' faults for feeding you drinks, then abandoning you like a kid at Sunday school. Honestly, it was sort of rude, and now you had to walk about half an hour back to your flat in heels. You were allowed to be at least a little bitter.

Both boys frowned as you tucked your hands in your pockets. "I've got a hike ahead of me. Adieu, Lads."

Just as you began to step away, you were stopped by Thomas, "Woah, wait, you can't walk alone!" His peace had been broken by your statement. You turned your head as he came up beside you, being a bit taller than you. "Streets are dangerous at night, especially for such a vision as you." Thomas smiled at you, his eyes twinkling in the street light. "Let me walk you to the top of your street. I don't even need to know your address, I just need to know you're safe."

How could you refuse?

"You're a peach," you sighed contently. Thomas beamed at you and back to Ethan. He seemed a little surprised in Thomas' chivalry, but he smiled to both of you and waved as you both began to walk off into the distance.

"Did your friends really leave you?"

"One fuck of a topic to jump into, right off the bat."

Thomas seemed embarrassed. "I didn't-I didn't mean to-"

"I'm just being an asshole, Man," you laughed, walking into him and shoving him lightly. Thomas' worry faded into a very natural smile. As if he didn't know he was smiling, yet it seemed to occupy his features so kindly. You had to tear your eyes from his intoxicating smile, to focus on the road ahead. "Yeah, they really left me. Stranded me at a bar on a Saturday night, to be walked home by a total stranger."

"That's shitty."

"Fucking right." A chuckle was shared just before you dug your cigarettes out of your pocket. A tin of hand rolled cigarettes. You extended the tin to Thomas, "Care for a blem?"

God, that smile was sure to be the death of you, especially tonight. He scooped one out lazily, but with the most relaxed movement, as if he was meant to be doing exactly that, in that exact moment. "You're a peach."

Another laugh. You stopped to light your cigarette, as well as Thomas'. He leaned in so close that you could feel the heat come off of him, and you also picked up on his smell. Thomas was potentially the best smelling human you'd ever met. He smelt as if a pine forest went up in flames, a couple months ago, while the wood was perfectly dried out.

Your feet knew their way home better than you did, so you both followed them as you both partook in mindless conversation and countless fags. Footsteps matched footsteps, minds matched minds, laughter bounced off laughter.

That is, until you found yourself in front of your flat complex, but walking right by it as if it didn't exist at all. You were on a mission now. To take Thomas to your favourite hill, that overlooked a bit of Rome and a lot of trees. It was where you usually went to collect your thoughts, and it hadn't even occurred to you that Thomas would be the first person you'd ever taken there. The man who was apparently going to marry you - no better person, in your mind.

"You're homeless?" Thomas asked as you plopped down in your grassy spot. You laughed and pulled him to sit beside you, which he did without much effort.

"No, we passed my flat."

His beautiful eyebrows drew together under that immaculate hair of his, as confusion layered Thomas' face. "Why didn't we stop?"

"I didn't want the conversation to stop, and this is my favourite spot in the city," you said, looking from Thomas to the view ahead of you. Thomas looked as well, seemingly softening to your favourite spot. You admired his side profile for a second before adding, "But, if you'd like to go back to your place, I'm more than okay with that."

"Who said I wanted the conversation to stop?" As he spoke those words, Thomas turned his head back to you. His eyes held the light of the sun, and the kindness of some manner of deity. You found yourself smiling in the exact same way Thomas was smiling.

For a little while, you sat in silence, looking over your view, stealing glances at each other when the other wasn't looking. It was broken only for a second, to share the final cigarette in your tin. Even without words to fill the air, the air felt full. It was like a full pool of still water that you had no problem disturbing, but why ruin it? You'd never felt so comfortable, and you never wanted the moment to end.

All good things must come to an end, you knew this. And this good thing came to an end at the butt of your cigarette.

"C'mon, Man," you smiled, disturbing the water. You stood up, then looked down at Thomas. His eyes were heavy, but content. You offered him your hand to help him stand, which he took gratefully.

"Where are we going?"

"You're coming home with me." Thomas seemed a bit wary. You sighed as you began marching back in the direction you came. "I'm supposed to let you, still half in the bag, stumble home to God knows where, all alone?"

A deep chuckle came from Thomas as he rubbed the back of his neck. His strides were in perfect sync with yours, despite him having longer legs. "I suppose you're right."

"Thank you for your approval," you laughed as you looked to the horizon that you two had had your backs turned to all this time. The sun was beginning to break the clouds. "We've been out all night."

"We left the bar at 3."

You looked to Thomas as the walk switched from grass to pavement. "A 30 minute walk was turned into a 2 hour trek." Thomas' face heated up a tad as he looked to the ground beneath his feet. You looked forward. "No way I'd rather spend my morning."

The same comfortable silence filled the air while you approached your complex. You both walked in very casually, as if Thomas was an old friend who visited very often. But the second you both crossed the threshold, you began throwing your shoes and jackets off. Tiredness had finally settled in.

"Okay, my bedroom is yours, goodnight." You rubbed your eyes, starting to make your way to the couch. Thomas caught your forearm, making you look at him.

"I should be the one on the couch."

Your lips fell in a straight line and your brow dropped. "You're the guest, Man. You get the bed."

"Y/n, I have no problem with the couch," Thomas insisted. You sighed and turned you both around to the bedroom. Thomas' hand was still around your forearm, until you arrived at the bedroom door. "Goodnight."

"Oi, Asshole, come back here," you said just as Thomas began going to the couch. Now you grabbed his forearm. "The couch is shitty, and you don't deserve that, but you're relentless. We're both adults, we can share a bed."

Thomas smiled sleepily. "Okay."

His voice was almost giddy as you both flopped onto the bed. Thomas whispered a soft goodnight to you, but you were already in a land beyond this one. With a smile, Thomas laid on his back. Your room smelt just like you, and Thomas loved being surrounded by it. It was a strange feeling, but one he never wanted to lose. Soon enough, he followed suite and drifted off right beside you.

It was the best sleep either of you had had in months.

Part 2

#måneskin #maneskin #maneskin fanfiction #thomas raggi #thomas raggi x reader #thomas raggi fanfiction #thomas maneskin #ethan torchio #x reader #one shot #oneshot #fluff

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impossible-rat-babies · 2 years

Note

Can you tell us more about Dmitri please? You mentioned him being a dad?

hey anon! yup, dimitri is a dad <3 he started out as a ttrpg character for a friend's game--he was looking to do a long term campaign with the system and I got invited based on my interest in the game + dragon age in general. after that he morphed into an inquisitor type character so I could play the games and he's sorta shifted back into just being a dragon age ttrpg character now that im only sorta invested in dragon age.

but he's my 40-something year old elf mage guy--a bit of a sad lil dilf from the anderfels i'd say. he's been through a lot of personality over the course of the ttrpg lifespan along with several other changes that have come with his character naturally shifting. he's got a long complicated backstory that is far edgier than it ever needed to be and i would revise nowadays having more experience with character building, i guess? or rather what makes a character narratively compelling.

but yeah. he's originally from the anderfels and at the time i created him, his clan had all been killed and that's why he was on his own (for the sake of the plot and why he wasn't with his clan I say!) He ended up with his children, daniel and ellie, for different reasons in inquisitor canon and game canon. Both are in the territory of "one day i'll rethink this."

tbh his whole character is sitting in "one day i'll rethink this."

but for now in the campaign he's sitting in a lovely state of severe numbed out depression and repress the anger and frustration repress repress repress and going through the motions while his funky fresh found family is falling apart while he's trying to save his sister's life from organized politically backed bandits who are trying to take over the anderfels, so he's doing Fantastic

#oc tag #in short. he's doing real bad scoob #inches away from one bad choice in several differing and bad directions #i don't talk about dnd stuff on here much but i sure do think about dnd stuff #not for lack of wanting to i just don't feel the internet urge to Talk about them you know?

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hemlockyy · 3 years

Text

Miss You - Lyric Analysis

by me because im bored.

yet again because whats more fun than going over lyrics for the 2736843th time? Absolutely nothing! and if you thought of something, you're lying to youself

So, miss you was a song released in the 8th of December 2017.

Some backstory before.

ObViOusLy, the whole babygate thing, add a lil cherry on top with the Elk split up (23rd march 2015 - 2 weeks prior) and them getting back toguether in 2017 (17 Feb). All of this aswell as Danielle and Brenda in the middle of it.

K with all the smol context under us we can already look around and see that just by the title 'Miss You' people had speculated it was for Eleanor, and since Louis said :

I wrote this song about a time in my life when I was going out partying every night. In hindsight throughout that time I was pretty numb and just going through the motions. Deep down it was always in the back of my mind that what I really missed was the girl that I loved

which obviously links the song to two occurences:

Babygate: 'was going out partying every night' (since we know for a fact he literally went partying every week)

The split up from Elk

but the thing is right- lmao Danielle just danielled away. No mention whatsoever.

This, all of this, and JUsT that quote that Louis gave us already destroyed like- half the narrative of 'Really good friends w an oops baby' and (obviously) just tarnishes yet again the 'engagement' route they were going to take. BUT IT ALSO leaves Danielle behind as if she didn't even exist!!

Which by the way things look, she might not've anygays.

The music video was made in LA

which again (If I could I would literally kiss louis brain) links it to Babygate.

Now the lyrics

verse 1:

"Is it my imagination?

Is it something that I’m taking?

All the smiles that I’m faking

“Everything is great

Everything is fucking great”"

Obviously we can literally hear the sarcasm on the last two lines. 'All the fake smiles' reffering to all the pap pics he did while the lead up to the Holy Conception. Aswell that him reffering to the scene as 'imagination' or 'something that he's taking' could emphasize that its so bad, so unreal that he thinks its a joke and that he's either too drunk or thinking it.

Going out every weekend

Staring at the stars on the ceiling

Hollywood friends, gotta see them

Such a good time

I believe it this time

Again, him reffering to him being papped every week on a club with the first line, the 'stars on the' ceiling reffering to the lights in night clubs, 'Holywood Friends' reffering to Annas, and specially reffering to Snoop Dog and his launch party, which was when this picture happened:

pre chorus:

Tuesday night

Glazed over eyes

Just one more pint or five

Does it even matter anyway?

One of the fucking smartest lines in my opinion, him reffering to tuesday. Which is him reffering to the day the first article of him being out partying came out:

The next are him reffering to what always happened; drinking and feeling shit. 'does it even matter anyways' is his subcontious trying to tell him to give in and just do what they wanted him to do, saying that it doesn't even matter because either way the end will be shit (and bla bla bla, but again, its his subcontious. not him.)

chorus:

We’re dancing on tables

And I’m off my face

With all of my people

And it couldn’t get better they say

the first two lines are ofc reffering to the feeling of being drunk, 'dancing on tables' and 'of your face' are ohrases people use to refer to drunken states. The 'people' Louis is reffering to is his escorts; people paayed to carry out what is supposed to happen that night (bodyguards, pr managers, paps, in cases the girls aswell he appears papped with), and the line 'couldn't get better they say' has both the connotation of this being the LA dream, of always partying, knocking chicks up, drinking to your hearts desire- aswell as having the connotation of 'his people' telling him it will not get better, so don't try to oppose it. (which links back to the previous verse 'does it even matter anyway')

We’re singing 'til last call

And it’s all out of tune

Should be laughing, but there’s something wrong

And it hits me when the lights go on

Shit, maybe I miss you

'singing til last call' refers to how late he spent in the clubs and 'out of tune' suggest again the drunk state. 'Should be laughing but there's something wrong' is again, elluding to that LA dream partying state that should've been what he was feeling, since that's what the media said. The 'lights go on' is reffering to the paps, when they take pictures (and obviously the miss you is talking about eleanor because he'd much rather stunt with her than be here lmao ) And yes, the miss you is reffering to Harry.

There doesn't have to be a reason and obviously it could also be a stunt line in the song- but let me explain what I think: We can see Louis' state by the end of the paps shoots, how he slowly just becomes VERY tired towards the last few ones. And keep in mind he was also touring with 1D WHILE HE PARTIED. Which meant it was Show-Party-Show-Party with things thrown between it aswell. Giving close to little time to spend w Harry.

(Pretty sure that's not at all what happened, its just what I think- it was such a fucking busy thing, I'd not be surprised if they both were stressed and not having enough 1-1 time)

Verse 2:

Just like that and I’m sober

I’m asking myself, “Is it over?”

Maybe I was lying when I told you

“Everything is great

Everything is fucking great”

First line reffering to how in the morning, next day of partying, he was again sober- for the shows- and him asking 'is it over' refers to how he just wanted it to be over with, all the patying and paps.

The two last lines could signify him talking to someone about his life- I'd say that the 'you' here does not mean Harry- but someone else- them asking "How's your life going" and then him going "Great Great, yeah- fookin great ykwim"

something along the lines of that you get me.

And all of these thoughts and the feelings

Chase you down if you don’t need them

I’ve been checking my phone all evening

Such a good time

I believe it this time

the first and second lines here are again, Louis talking about his subcontious; that 'this will turn on us' reffering to him and Harry. About a (probable) fear that this will make a strain in their relationship and stuff.

(a/n: kind of like how a lot of shippers unlarried while babygate was happening because 'louis couldn't cheat' or how a lot of shippers say they broke up during that time because 'Harry couldn't take the stress' and stuff)

Im not saying they broke up not that he cheated. What I'm saying is that there was a fear that this would make them break up- he says 'chase you down' which has the animalification of the wolves chasing down the pray to kill them etc.

Bridge:

Now I’m asking my friends how to say “I’m sorry”

They say “Lad, give it time, there’s no need to worry”

And we can’t even be on the phone now

And I can’t even be with you alone now

the first line links to what I said about Louis' subconcious; this would be that constant need to say 'I am sorry' for something that isn't his fault or something that he can't control, and then the second line goes on to say that he doesn't have to worry because, again, its not his fault and Harry undertands that.

Now the 'We can't even be on the phone now, I can't even be with you alone now' refers to their public appearance, on how other than that Paris interview there are no other interviews with just them two, on how we didn't get a Larry hour on 1Dday... It refers to them literally being unable to say anything to each other because of management.

Oh, how shit changes

We were in love, now we’re strangers

I WANT TO ALIENATE THESE TWO LINES BECAUSE OF HOW FUCKING LOUT IT IS.

this one links ti the last two of the previous, again on their public image (His and Harry's) about how they were once in love (fetus) but now they're strangers (the mortal enemies narrative)

When I feel it coming up, I just throw it all away

Get another two shots 'cause it doesn’t matter anyway

And to top off these last two lines of the bridge is him linking all of this back to the start of the song: 'is it my imagination, is it something that I'm taking' with 'when I feel it coming up, I just throw it all away'; when the thoughts that this is all fake and once he wakes up or stop imagining its all going to be better (aswell as with the connotation of over partying and vomiting) but at the same time him making himself stop those thoughts because he knows this is reality. And then round back again with the repetition of 'doesn't matter anyways' with it feeling like a dead end to him.

#Spotify #I swear I could do a full on essay on this song #Larry Stylinson #Louis Tomlinson #Miss You #Louis #One of my favourite songs tbfh #of forgot to add that by louis not singing this song #is basically him saying that he is not hopeless and that he knows what he is doing #also #makes you wonder why the label didn't give the song proper advertising right #along with other stuff #I just wanna kiss Louis' brain #Louis songs #Song Analysis

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punkscowardschampions · 5 years

Text

Ronnie, Bronson, Charlie & Bea

Ronnie: I'm going on a run Ronnie: who wants? Bronson: My stash is depleted for some unknown reason 🤔 please stock me up Charlie: Ooh, new year new you babe? Charlie: couch to 5k is it aspirational af 😍 Bea: ✋ me Ronnie: fuck off i just dont need you pussies crying when you can't scav my gear Ronnie: what'll it be princess? the usual Charlie: c'mon, we've always shared everything, nothing is your own #carekidlife Bronson: Ha! That'll be why the lock on my door never sticks Bea: yep, not decided to get heavily into crack since we last spoke, just lots of amphetamines in any form you find 'em, tah, got exams coming up Ronnie: Shame Ronnie: reckon I'd like you more on the hard shit Charlie: just in case you missed the old place, man, giving you that nostalgia for when you had to padlock anything that wasn't bolted to the floor 😜 Bronson: Good times! 😀 Bea: Shame I'm not trying to be your type then, I guess Bea: soz darling, spoken for 💋 Charlie: Truly, missing that tenner a week pocket money, LUXURY! Ronnie: fucking am Ronnie: pissing jobcentre Bronson: I'll add it to your tab if you're desperate as Charlie: gotta learn to play their game, babe Charlie: not throw the board in a hissy Ronnie: 🖕 doss cunts Bea: catch me here fanning myself with sweet, sweet debt for future me to give a shit about Bronson: I'll wipe it out if you use some to keep me sweet Bea: sweet enough sugar 😘 Bea: but forreal, if you could manage that I would be your sugar mama for LIFE 🙏 Bronson: It's student loans not the feds Bronson: Easy peasy Bea: true, like all branches of the gov, pretty fucking useless Bea: but I'm an immigrant as far as they concerned so they treat me SO good 😋 Bronson: Same, but we can always stretch our hands out a little further Ronnie: To jack it and pat yourself on the back at the same time, yeah? Ronnie: calm it down Bronson: New year, new look too! Green looks ace with black 😄 Bea: Clearly do not have natural rhythm Ronnie, that's really not that difficult Bea: You're not a drummer, are you? 😕 Ronnie: get off my tits all of yous Ronnie: do you want gear or nah? Bronson: 🤐 Bea: I thought you'd already gone tbh Ronnie: not trying to score that weak gay shit Ronnie: hitting up a more reliable source like Charlie: rude, i'm RIGHT here Ronnie: are you even gay fitzy? always in my pussy lad Bronson: 😷 Bea: 🤢 Charlie: idk, ask ur man 💖 Ronnie: that'll be why me and Bron's dads did a bunk Bronson: Get yourself locked up at the same time just for the d, did you? Romantic Charlie: if the porn n the stereotypes n the rate of STIs are anything to go by...love is in the air always in cell block h Ronnie: princess'll have some handcuffs to get you on your way to that good loving Bea: 🚿🧠 anyone got any bleach? Bea: Charlie isn't worth the 💰 use cable ties, more authentic Bronson: 99 🚔 My fingers are on the button....Stop for the love of god Ronnie: Bron can help you out there Fitz Ronnie: 🤓 Bronson: Take that over a thicko label Charlie: Look, babe, know you wanna tie me down forever but do it yourself, don't involve the kid Charlie: 💍 diamond or no D, soz Ronnie: Bring a needle I'll snag a gem Bronson: Don't go there, C, I'm still riding the ear infection wave Bronson: It's been 84 years Ronnie: yeah cause you're a mong that can't turn an earring Bronson: In my defense I was a legit child Bea: nothing screams low-class like stabbing your friends for the bants Charlie: and i already scream homo loudly enough, don't need another reason to be hate crime-d, a thank you Bronson: If I didn't know you I'd guess bisexual Bronson: You can have that for free Charlie: what a smooth-talker! thanks babe 💖 Charlie: and if i didn't know you, i'd guess you were trying to see my dongle Bronson: Been there, repressed the trauma o that Ronnie: get a fucking room benders Charlie: why you being so homophobic when we all know how bad you want on princess? cliche stuck in the closet much Bea: shut up Ronnie: in your wet dreams Charles Ronnie: fuck off Charlie: oh the delicious tension Charlie: too much for either to bear Ronnie: I know where she's been Ronnie: fuck that Ronnie: like you wish you could gayboy Bronson: Wait, you fancy Fraze, Charlie? Ha Bea: Bron can you not encourage either of them Bea: thanks Bronson: Sorry my mind's just blown I thought he was out of his straight boy phase Charlie: What? Its a compliment for you, he's adorable, why else would you be with him? Ronnie: they're both annoying cunts Ronnie: match made Charlie: and never out of that phase, bro 😍 #daddyissues Bea: get his name out of your mouth bitch Ronnie: oi get your mouth off his dick Fitzgerald you heard her Ronnie: princess is raging like Ronnie: when your mans a slag and youre a prude Bea: As if Bea: Only one McKenna fucked up to go near you Bea: #singletear Charlie: Children, enough Ronnie: Bron do that final 9 she's going off 😂 Bronson: Walking away Bea: know you're hard up but as per we're all funding you getting your rocks off so run along and do it, no need to bore me trying to get your kicks Ronnie: know youre a snobby cunt but I don't work for you Bea: you don't work for anyone, not even JC gonna fund your lack of a life Ronnie: 🖕 mad cause I don't need reddies to fund myself Bea: yeah fuming Bea: if only I'd have thought of selling my body, wouldn't even NEED to be at cambs rn omg Ronnie: nailed it Bea: 😂 Bea: whodathunkit Bea: talking to the cure for cancer stuck inside a waster here Bea: and I'm the snob, okay Ronnie: fucking hell Ronnie: devvo like Bea: We can tell Bea: you don't need to shout about it, you've got the energy of a walking wasteland Ronnie: can't wait until you take some more speed and get more smug Bea: Right? Bea: Must sting, better only getting better Bea: why don't you get something to numb the pain- Ronnie: let you know how it feels when the lads come up Bronson: A rare compliment, you hitting it already? Ronnie: you'll have your share calm the fuck down Charlie: i don't want any, i'm busy Charlie: glad you all noted my silence, feel so listened to usually! hmpf Ronnie: so now you're a little bitch too Ronnie: fuck's sake Bronson: PARTY TIME, am I right? Really in the mood now thanks everyone Charlie: who's in who's pussy, dollface? Charlie: keep your shirt on, Bro 😂 got enough with the two angry feminists here Charlie: I've got previous plans, if you're really so hurt, you can save me some, no? Whaddya mean that'd hurt more? 😏 Bea: you're alright, I personally rather you weren't there, suits me 😘 Bronson: Shirts already off, too late 😜 Bea: Standard 👌 Charlie: you big man whore Charlie: when i'm not around to be predatory, too, tuttut Bronson: I'd wilt under your stare, you know you aren't missing out Charlie: our beautiful wallflower Charlie: I bagsy being a red rose, lil trashy but iconic Bronson: Thorn in our sides Bronson: accepted Bea: Nice one, babe Bea: i'll be an orchid, because i'm beautiful, ornamental and high-maintenance Bea: getting in there before any of you fucks can Charlie: though your silence IS noted, wonwon Charlie: don't be cross at me 😘 Ronnie: fuck off Ronnie: you're not the only one who's busy Ronnie: got a dick in my mouth too like Charlie: such a skilled multitasker Charlie: teach me your ways Bronson: in private please Bronson: not a lesson I want to learn Bea: we're not living in that teen movie Ronnie: On my way Bea: 👍 getting cash out, meet you there Bronson: Doors on the latch

Bea: Morning sweetness 😴 Bea: manage to recover your good vibe/night? Bronson: is it? 😪 Bronson: Until now it wasn't too bad Bronson: Do you get to say the same or is it pure suffering? Bea: Wow, when you hit bae up with that morning text and he's like day=ruined 😰 thought we was forever 😉 Bea: Decided to get off with someone around the same time I lost track of yous, so it was fucking awful, don't tell me you coulda told me that Bronson: It's only the comedown I wanna dump you're welcome to come and nap 💗 Bronson: Not to be that know it all Bea: Molly's such a cruel, cruel mistress, she wants you to miss her when she's gone 💁 Bea: Poor bubba, better than waking up next to that pushy bitch from last night though, Jesus, what was her damage? Bea: I reckon he'd actually gone out and had his drunken kebab and THEN PAID TO GET BACK IN Bea: No sir, not alright Bea: Why do I bother? Bronson: But I'm shamelessly smitten, only girl for besides present company like Bronson: Whatever it is she's not the first or last sufferer Bronson: Thanks for the bail out and sorry I wasn't there to do the same with kebab Kev Bea: N'awwh 💞 glad I hold more appeal than Tina, don't need to be going down that route Bea: It's an epidemic! Basic bitches who can't get a man willing, yeah take that out on innocent onlookers who ain't buying and talk about how your ex ain't shit for being a creepy letch Bea: We see you sweets 💅 Bea: Any time, even if you weren't there to take that donner breath bullet Bea: I'd never ask that of anyone, even Ronnie, though she'd brag about not being arsed, I'm sure 😂 Bronson: Next time I'll carry gum and throw it at whoever you deem worthy Bronson: Give me the nod Bronson: It was all over her socials like we had a good night together until I got there first Bronson: Rather take out Tina and all her mates Bea: as if you don't already Bea: if only little miss would-be-rapist knew that strong jawline was from gurning up a storm 😉 Bea: not so sexy now Bronson: there's nothing in my pockets I'm just pleased to see you Bronson: Seriously though, some of those selfies had to go for that unflattering reason alone taking into account none of her other antics Bronson: I looked a state Bea: 😂 not fallen for that one before but i'll make an exception for you boo Bea: catch me in my duvet cocoon, please don't look at me 'cos same Bea: I dread to think Bea: kept off my accounts for that reason and many more, some of us have reputations to uphold, skank Bronson: want me to check Bronson: clean up the carnage Bronson: Then brunch, your treat Bea: please Bea: roleplay my IT bitch and I'll be feeling my boss best in time for a liquid lunch Bea: will have to damage control my face first, enjoy watching me lovingly whilst I turn a -2 to an 11 Bronson: Never get bored of staring at you, you know that Bronson: Make my hair great again Bronson: Thanks Bea: when you shoulda been Trump's campaign manager 😕 Bea: sort the weave, clean up that twitter Bea: what a wonderful world it coulda been Bronson: Last night proves I can't stop him pussy grabbing Bronson: Need you for that one Bea: This pussy bites back 😼 Bea: its not your fault, girls like that, if you tell her to fuck off, and rightly so, it'd be made like YOU were being a prick to her Bea: gotta bullshit these hoes sometimes, tis the only way Bronson: Or playing hard to get...they fire that one at me loads Bronson: 😦 Bea: 🤢 gross Bea: got that one myself a fair few times, when I'm not being accused of being a prude by Ronaldo, hilariously Bea: People are the worst Bea: 'cept us Bronson: It's only because she likes you Bronson: Flattering, isn't it? Bronson: Being called broken is my fave Bronson: "Who hurt you?" You are right now, fuck off before you get a slap yourself to feel the pain of Bea: Wouldn't that just be the perfect solution in their simplistic little world? If only Bea: Save myself the feelings of disgust not brought on by kebab breath Bea: Though, if you think that that's love coming from Ron, then you do have an answer to their riddle right there, not real but the masses'll take one look at her and buy it 😜 Bronson: No arguments here Bronson: Your socials are sparkling now so that's real comfort to take Bea: 💖 yay Bea: the world never need know Bea: as long as I didn't drunk dial or text Fraze, this day is looking up, tah babes Bronson: Not to be a know it all again so quick Bronson: but I'm going to go ahead and guess the answer to that one Bea: BITCH DON'T KILL MY VIBE Bea: I'm sure I'd have angry ranting in my inbox if I had Bea: or a passive indirect on the socials, come across one perchance smartiepants? Bronson: Might've Bronson: I'll spare you Bea: Noooooooooooooooooooo Bea: Coulda had it all Bea: Really sours my Bloody Mary Bea: Fuck sake, now he's going to think I FUCKED kebab kev and enjoyed it meanwhile I sit here virginal and scrubbing my mouth out with soap Bea: How's this game fair again, please remind me Bronson: It isn't Bronson: But I can't tell you to stop playing Bronson: All yours Bea: you're meant to be a superwhizkid Bea: can't you think up a strategy so I win Bronson: Thinking cap is on Bronson: Because my hair still looks shit as much as Bea: I'll fix your barnet Bea: Between you and Charlie, honestly Bea: Never known boys like it 😂 Bea: blatant lie, have you seen how particular Fraze is but he doesn't really have much hair to be stylin' so Bronson: 👴 awkward Bea: you fool Bea: not like that 😂 Bea: though I'll keep it in my backpocket for when we inevitably row later Bea: #malepatternbaldnessBITCH Bronson: Freebie to kick your day off right again Bea: if you refuse to tell me what to do, could you use your skillz for good at least and fucking disable my phone when i'm fucked Bronson: Last time I tried you tried to fight me like Bea: Look, I didn't say it was a task for the fainthearted 😉 Bea: and yes, you would be the first to succeed too Bea: but if anyone can, its my man 😘 Bronson: Ego boost before eggs Bronson: Whoa Bronson: Today is looking up Bea: Gotta keep you sweet with all the bitching I'll no doubt do at brunch Bea: such a Carrie move, like no one cares bitch, write it in your column or books or...what did she even write? Or was she just monologuing at her computer, like all been there babe but don't act like its buying you all that designer Bronson: Her real true love was that laptop Bronson: Solved it Bea: 😲 Bea: but Mr. Big Bea: clue in the name Bronson: Could be his wallet Bronson: explain the designer gear Bea: Exactly Bea: Just my type Bronson: I'd go in for it if I can spend and send him the receipts Bea: you must be aware there are websites for that Bea: get on it boy Bronson: It all gets too sexual for my tastes Bea: set out boundaries Bea: different strokes for different folks Bea: i'm SURE there's a millionaire out there that just wants to chat Bronson: 🤔 There's enough fighting off advances in the club Bronson: Shelving that until millionaires become good people Bea: not bad people by default Bea: just a bad system they profit from more than you Bronson: Getting deep in here Bronson: Truth though Bea: real talk take #2 Bea: where do you think charlie was last night? and who or what was he doing? Bronson: Good questions that I have no answer to Bronson: If he had a job we'd all know Bea: I need to know, suspense is killing me Bea: I didn't think anything beat drugs in his book Bea: somewhat encouraging? Bronson: You could ask but I doubt you'd get far enough into the real Bronson: It is Bronson: Boy's growing up? Bea: Full of the #bants them two Bronson: Since day 1 Bronson: I'm coming to get you, Barbara Bronson: Ready yourself Bea: *falls over gravestones like a dumb bitch* Bea: i'm good to go and looking fly Bronson: I'll do the coded knock Bronson: Made up rn Bea: Helpful Bronson: That's my thing Bronson: Soon, my love, soon

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warnerbro · 7 years

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lunch aka just memories.

Boo: [They've relocated. It's future. 11 years later. Boo's suggested lunch. They go for lunch. Some nice cafe, I'm sure, but nothing too nice. Or no, how about the same place they ate the day before Boo left for college, yeah that can work. So they enter. Boo holds open the door, because gentleman, but there is an apparent struggle because he IS ON CRUTCHES. So they are seated it can be a booth or table idc. And it's quiet, until drinks are ordered. And then guess what, quiet again. Boo feel like he can't take his eyes off of her, but he is actually able too. So he glances at the menu and then finally speaks.] How are things?

Cilla: [So, Cilla is following Booboo, probably crying a lil on the inside at the choice of restaurant, because woW. She can't help but throw a smile, even through the confusion, at Boo when the be-crutched man holds the door open for her. And then she sits, and it's quiet, and they order drinks, and there's silence, and he's staring, and she feels really exposed under his gaze for whatever reason. She's kinda trying to hide behind the menu right now. Then his voice finally echos, and she jumps just a lil bit.] Oh, uh. Fine. It's all fine. Same-old, I guess. How are things with you?

Boo: Fine. [Grin. Not expecting such a small answer jEEZE.] My whole world has- sort of-- been turned upside down, but nothing I can't handle. Relocating, back home and everything... [it's an awkward answer, as his leg is completely numb. it's as if he had a detached limb-- no real connection to his leg anymore, it's sad really. like a hurt puppy he shrugs that idea away.]

Cilla: [She frowned at that, even now being able to read him and the sadness. She felt so bad for him. Soccer was everything to him. But why was he back home alone, instead of with his g i r l f r i e n d?] You're here alone? [The question came out before she could even think about whether or not she wanted the answer. Yikes.]

Boo: I'm not alone now... [he's probably just as confused, his eyes wander around the resturant, like goodbye to this conversation.]

Cilla: [She's so dumbfounded by HIM ALWAYS AVOIDING ANSWERING HER QUESTIONS, LIKE BOI, JUST ANSWER MY QUESTION STRAIGHT OUT. But, really, she did huff a little and shift in her seat just a bit.] Yeah, guess not...

Boo: I'm here alone. [ Fine, let's spill, okay. His eyes avert to the drinking which are just now brought to them, he ignores the straw on the table and moves the glass closer.] I think it's best I have some time away from Mel. [ he takes a sip of his water, and debates on whether adding a forever in there, but nah.]

Cilla: [Imagine the biggest eyebrow raise which she immediately tries to hide. Like, oh no, I didn't react to that at all. That meant... they broke up? Did they break up? How did she not know about this? Why didn't Donnie find out? But, no, Melissa wouldn't tell Donnie about that, now would she? Because Donnie would just tell Cilla... wouldn't he? Slow down, Cilla. You're going a mile a minute.] Oh-- that's... okay, sure. [She puts the straw in her glass and takes a long, drawn-out sip, totally side-eyeing because if they're broken up, total karma. Yup.]

Boo: Is it okay? [emphasis on okay. eye raise at the beginning of Is. Would you be sitting here in front of me either way? Would you tolerate me? Does it even matter? Add in some stuffiness because let's make this awkward, because does Cilla even have a right or say so in any break up--- truth is ya she do lol]

Cilla: You tell me. [More eyebrow raise. Because, hey, boy, if you're into it, so am I.]

Boo: Oh, don't give me that, Cil. [He shifts in his seat.] Don't sit there and hold back your words, just say it. "I told you so~" [ he rolls his eyes, and scoffs and is there a little pain there? Maybe, well fuck yeah there is. 12 years wasted with one Rocket and you're going to sit there high and mighty with your Rocket. PFt.] Because fine. if you want to be honest, I always knew she wasn't the right girl for me. [let is goooo, let it gooooooo, can't hold it back anymore.]

Cilla: I wasn't going to say that. [Say it? No. Think it. Yup. Don't tell her what to do, Boo Warner. You've never been allowed to do that.] Sure was a lot of time spent with the wrong girl. [She mumbled this, but she knew he would hear, and she gave another kermit-esque sip of her water, because there was definitely a clear air of bitter in her voice, but she was trying to play it off as an unspoken 'i-told-you-so'.]

Boo: Uh huh. [look of exrreme contempt as she sips on her water, and yea he heard her. loud and clear.] You think I owe you an explanation?

Cilla: No. I don't. [He owed her a lot of things, but an explanation about his relationship with her future sister-in-law wasn't something she even cared about. She didn't want to know. She didn't /care/ about his reasons.]

Boo: [He nods.] I'd rather not, anyways. [he takes a sip of his water, again is there pain in this? YA PROBABly. Skip an interaction with a waitress. food is ordered I guess? Boo's ordered the same thing for years. Surprise. there's silence once again, and Boo watches Cilla. Grin. No words. byENA.]

Cilla: [Yeah, she'd bet money he'd 'rather not'. Was there a tiny eye roll? Probably. And then another silence fell over the two, and Cilla wanted to sink into the seat, because, honestly? After everything, what were they supposed to /talk about/? She looked to Boo for guidance, and he was staring again, this time with a grin. Her face is gonna get stuck in the eyebrow raising position, because she did it again.] Why are you looking at me like that?

Boo: [eye roll ignored, or maybe he didn't see it either way no response to that. I mean what /ARE/ they supposed to talk about HMM?. She poses her question. the question. here goes. he shrugs, eyes avert away, real quick, same grin on his face. he debates saying well because I missed your face, but let's chose something milder. ] Just... [he lets out a sigh.] Memories. [sips on his drink.]

Cilla: [At his response, she gave a look around the restaurant. Yup. Too many memories. Childhood, teenhood, the night before-- Oh. Nope. Retract. Back to childhood. Go back. Nope, not working. She could feel her face heating up, and so, without word, she took her glass once more, also averting her eyes, and took a long sip, oh lord. Yup, memories.]

Boo [chuckle, and he won't say more so they eat and awkwardness commences, i'm sure they agree on maybe catching up again sooner, and the end moving on?]

#locked

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