So I was rewatching Delirious’ Klepto video with Vanoss (cuz I’m trash) and at 18:02 when Evan is ordering food he asks Delirious if he wants anything to eat. Why would he be asking him that if they don’t live anywhere close to each other?? It might have been just a joke but they were both talking so casual as if it was a normal question. Delirious replied with “A sub, or a car.” He could’ve been joking because of saying a car but I still don’t know. I’m trash and I thought I’d share this even if it’s just a joke or something else entirely.
Mrs. Brown had cautioned against going out. Her bones seemed to rattle as her fingers clasped his wrist and the pale and milky blues of her eyes, wild and owlish, suddenly seemed rather intense. ‘Bad things tend to happen when young things go out at night to drink and sin,’ She had said and it almost startled a laugh at him. Poor Mrs. Brown, not realising her own tenant, who she had taken in on good faith was a bad person. A bad thing in of himself. Her concern always made him uncomfortable. It all seemed to boil down to the fact he looked ‘exactly like her Danny’, a son of hers that had passed away. Be it not in him to doubt her, but considering she was legally blind, he took that claim with a pinch of salt. ‘Danny, I really, I really think you should stay home,” She’d warned a second time only to receive a boyish smirk she couldn’t see and a nod in her general direction. Nix didn’t need the kindness of practical strangers, even if they were providing him with a roof above his head for barely any buck at all.
When his feet had finally managed to carry him to Miranda St. He had a cousin named Miranda who got knocked up in sixth form and shipped off to some sort of boarding school. He thought of her for a second before retrieving the cigarette tucked between the frowning bow of his lips and tossing it on the ground. He made no move to meet the discarded stick with the bottom of his boot. A car would get it or it would go out by himself. Instead. he ran one calloused hand through his hair and pushed it back, revealing the 3 tattooed on his temple for a split second before his hair flopped back over it and obscured it once more. In England, he used to get this little self-congratulatory feeling right before he walked into a place. The sort of smug sensation that came from knowing he already owned every place he walked into. Not on paper, but in blood. Living a quiet life meant keeping a quiet existence, too. There would be no knuckle-bruising for Phoenix, no. He’d left that behind him along with the countless skeletons stuffed into his closet.
With another deep breath, he stepped forward and crossed the road, illuminated only by flickering street lamps and the block-coloured lights coming from Veto itself. What a pretentious name. ‘Veto’. As if any dive bar were different from the other. They were all hubs of hedonism. Places where addicts of all sorts, those addicted to the flesh and those addicted to the mouth of a bottle, came together and lost their minds under the same moon. ‘Veto’, now that was a fucking laugh.
The bar itself was loud when he stepped into it. Loud and full of bustle. He supposed in a town like Bone Hill, anything new would attract this sort of undivided attention. Without searching the crowd for faces he either would not recognise or not want to speak to, he stepped to the bar. He nearly shoulder-checked the person next to him as he slipped into the minimal space between two people. Nix couldn’t even recognise whatever mind-fuck beat was pouring out of the speakers at that minute. Just snorted a little too loud and said to no one in particular, his Northern English accent thick and detectable from a mile off. “Well the DJ’s shit, so there’s that.”
current aesthetic(???): sarah making pancakes alone in the kitchen singing along to you reposted in the wrong neighborhood or something idk in her smol smol voice (and then chase walks in and feels like he has seen something he shouldn’t have seen so backs out slowly)
#i should put this in the comic tbh #or make a moodboard
Blinking a couple of times at the decidedly UNUSAL request, Tony quickly ducks his head to hide it. ❝Didn’t know it was public knowledge that I, uh. Sing.❞
Didn’t know anyone knew it. He only plays when he’s alone; he’d never even CONSIDERED that anyone might know about it. Nevertheless, he’s already moving towards the piano. With one last quick glance towards them, he sits; entering one of his worlds of FOCUS. The piano’s lid opens with a soft whisper. Befitting the situation.
He inhales quietly, and begins to play.
Come up to meet you Tell you I’m sorry You don’t know how lovely You are…
okay this is my first lucaya fic and it’s TERRIBBLEELELLVLEBIELEB. but i wrote it for dixonbros bc i love her and i’m going to write more in the future and they will be less terrible we hope. also i didn’t proofread after finishing the whole thing bc i can’t stand to read this again omf.
summary: lucas and maya are paired up for a class project bc i’m a basic bitch who writes basic tropes.
Do you ever cry because Lucas was basically told that he had to like the upbeat, sweet, positive girl who saw sunshine in everyone and whose disappointed face was a smile, but instead fell for the troubled, dark, passionate girl who had a broken family and whose disappointed face was distinct from a mile away?? Because I do.