But this one’s for the brilliant @angelycdevil! Happy belated, love!
Based on this prompt. I know you asked for Stucky, but that was before I knew of the wonders of Holsom!
The day had already been a weird one before the knock on his
He’d woken in his Las Vegas hotel room (expected) without
Ransom (unexpected) to insistent knocking on his door. He’d yanked it open,
ready to chirp Rans for leaving his key, only to find Shitty, Bitty and
motherfriggin’ Johnson in the doorway.
To say he’d been shocked would be an understatement.
It was no secret that he and Ransom were flying out to Vegas
post-graduation. But, when they’d let the team know in April what the plan was,
there’d been a string of quiet apologies as unfortunately timed prior engagements
and tight budgets knocked their invite list down to nil. And, while he would
have loved to have at least his team there, this was simply a marriage of
Linda noticed that there was something wrong with Elvis’s addiction to prescription drugs the first night she slept with him at the Hilton Hotel in Las Vegas;
“…I looked around the room. In addition to several guns on what would become his side of the bed, I noticed an assortment of at least a dozen prescription medicine bottles.
"Have you been sick?” I asked.
“No, why?” he said. “Why do you ask that?”
“Well, what are all those prescription medicine bottles then?”
He looked around, so used to seeing the bottles, he apparently didn’t even notice them anymore, and he had to stare at them for a moment before he formulated an answer.
“Oh, yeah, yeah, I had a little respiratory thing, but I’m fine now,” he said. “It’s just leftover medicine from when I was sick.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that you were sick;’ I said.
I believed him, because, at that point, I had no reason not to. I’d grown up in a household where my parents didn’t even have any alcohol in the house, not even beer. My parents both smoked cigarettes, which I hated, but that was it. I didn’t even know that people abused prescription drugs. And so, of course, I didn’t doubt his explanation….” (A Little Thing Called Life by Linda Thompson)
Olly sat on the window sill of one of the many hotel rooms
in Las Vegas, knees to his chest and idly staring out at all the lights that
blanketed the city. He was in a slight trance and not even really seeing the
lights at all so much as just letting his mind wander. They simply provided a
backdrop for it. He’d been quieter than usual lately and stuck in his own head,
which tended to happen when he was exhausted, jet lagged, or overwhelmed by his
own thoughts. His band mates always noticed when it happened and knew how to
pull him out of those moods, whether it was cracking jokes to lighten his
spirits or asking leading questions to encourage Olly to talk about whatever
was on his mind. Otherwise, uninterrupted, he could stay in that state for
hours at a time. He looked away from the window and back into the room when he
heard the bathroom door open, and did his best to muster up a smile when he saw Troye. “Did
you have a nice shower?” he asked, turning and dropping his feet from the
plz 'like' this post if u would like me to check out ur blog, i'd like new people 2 follow
(plz note, though, that i really really don’t like ‘fandom’ blogs or blogs that post hella tv show .gifs, i’m SO SO SO SORRY I STILL LOVE YOU AS A HUMAB BEING i just like to scroll through endless amounts of the following:
poetry, even if it’s bad, personal posts, cute selfies, anything pink, anything super tacky eg. if you have a blog exclusively dedicated to las vegas hotel rooms lemme know, nature pics, glitter, sassiness, etc. thku!!!)
I think people are believing that I’m going to go galavant across the Las Vegas strip when I actuality I’m staying in my hotel room with my puppy and only going out to play in a tournament and go to buffets and like maybe an aquarium lmao