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alix-delacroix:

All Ramona had to do was mention a club and Ali was in. After their last conversation it was hard to tell where they stood. Honestly Ali wasn’t even sure she trusted Ramona. But a club couldn’t hurt things. And the chance to get wasted and forget the shit going on in her life was always appreciated.

Alix waved Ramona over to her spot at the bar, handing a drink to the younger girl. On the street her mini skirt and crop top was risque, but compared to the other girls in the club she was practically in a nun’s habit. “Thanks, girl. So do you. A little black dress never goes wrong.” She sipped at her own drink as her gaze flicked up to the DJ stand. “I’ve heard him once before. Trust me you will not be disappointed.”

Ramona sat and took the drink with a grateful murmur, downing a big gulp before setting it down. “Oh, it’s so weird to be on the other side of the bar. I love it.” She glanced around at the club, eyeing the people dancing and drinking. It reminded her so much of high school, when she’d needed a fake ID to be a part of this scene. Luckily her adopted country had much more liberal laws about that type of thing. “How are you?”

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Ramona still wasn’t totally sure if this was a good idea----she still hadn’t found a way to talk to Brennan about the Ali situation, and in retrospect she realized she was kind of walking into things blindly. But for now it seemed like a good idea to keep an eye on her---and Ramona could never resist having a good time.

Spotting the other girl, Ramona smiled and waved. “You look hot!” she complimented, walking up to Ali and tossing a flirtatious smile at the guys entering the club, who were ogling her in the short black dress she had chosen for the evening’s festivities. “I can not wait for this. I heard the DJ is supposed to be awesome.”

@alix-delacroix

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siriuslyjamesii:

“He’ll live.” Standing behind the well-intoxicated patron who seemed ready to put up a fight for their shitty, ridiculous drink order, James rose his voice above the crowd. Ramona could have handled this by herself, he’d seen it done on more than enough occasions, but tonight he had to step in. Last thing they needed was one drunk riling up another. “That right, mate?” By now the prick had turned to look up at James as he towered over him. That’s all it took for him to nod his head and down his shot, leaving behind a few coins before heading off with his friends. 

James stepped forward to occupy the empty spot at the bar, leaning his elbows atop the counter. “Fuck, I could use a drink,” he sighed, looking longingly at a freshly poured pint of beer. It looked like heaven. Then turning back to Ramona, he took a breath. “Half hour left on the clock.” A few drunken hoots in the background spoke on just how difficult those thirty minutes would be.

Ramona watched the man head off with his friends before fixing James with an annoyed look. “You know, if you want to be a hero so badly I’ll get you a cape and tights.” she said, rolling her eyes. She wasn’t truly angry, more just looking for something to be annoyed at. This night had been longer than any other she’d worked so far. There was nothing she wanted more than to sink into a hot bath when she got home and fall asleep, but that wasn’t really an option at her flat. Perhaps she’d go to Brennan’s.

Her eyes followed his to the clock. Half an hour was as good as closed to her. She poured a shot and set it in front of him, quickly preparing one for herself. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” she said teasingly, a smile on her face.

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Ramona took a deep breath, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down her back. She wasn’t exactly sure whose idea this pub crawl had been, but she was ready to stab them with a dull knife. Drunkenness had taken the kindness out of her customers ages ago, and the two or so shots she’d secretly downed weren’t helping her stress. 

“You want a what?” she asked, shaking her head at the complicated drink order. “No, you’re getting vodka. I’m sure you’ll live.” She poured the person a shot and slammed it on the counter, fixing them a glare that dared them to argue.

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alix-delacroix:

Alix shook her head, flinching at the mention of Holly as her words from that night came rushing back to her. “No, it was more than just the store and Wyatt.” Though Ramona was right about Holly being involved. “I’m not really sure this is something that can be talked out, honestly.” She let out a quiet sigh that turned into a soft chuckle. “Oh he has a car. I think he’s the only person brave or stupid enough to drive a Range Rover around London. But I don’t think any tire slashing is in my future.”

“He does not have a Range Rover.” she said with a chuckle, albeit a nervous one. “Oh my God, remind me to bully him about that.” Her mind was still reeling as she tried to figure out how to handle this---she couldn’t deny something Alix hadn’t accused her of yet. “I don’t mean, like, try and get back together with him or anything. It just seems like you’re a little fuzzy on the details. Be good to get some clarity.”

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lilylunapuff:

“Um, do you happen to know what kind of spell makes it snow?” Lily asked, looking up at the snowflakes that were falling down from just above her head, “Because I think I cast it by accident and now I don’t know how to make it stop.”

Ramona looked up as the white flakes began swarming around her. She hadn’t seen snow in what felt like forever---she hadn’t yet spent a winter in England. “Um, I don’t.” she said, shifting awkwardly. Situations like this popped up every once in a while as a Squib in the magical world, and as always she never quite knew how to react. “They don’t teach you that at Hogwarts?”

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brennanbrogan:

He set her rough draft down again, carefully, not wanting to taint the image in any way. He wanted this for her; something she could create, a construction from her imagination. More than that, he wanted Ramona to have something of her own in the apartment that she could love. Between the mattress and the rickety table, he couldn’t see a home in the flat. Then again, Ramona seemed more at ease with less. Brennan couldn’t relate to that. “I guess maybe I should get out of your way and let you continue working, then.” He had come and done what he intended to do; the crack in their friendship seemed to be repaired, or at least on the mend.

Ramona watched him set down the image like it was some piece of fine art, instead of her messy scrawls on a paper napkin. She almost doubted he’d treat a Picasso or a Monet any differently. As always, his behavior puzzled her. “You didn’t want any pizza?” she asked, though she felt like she already knew the answer. He wasn’t exactly the cheese n’grease type---yet she wasn’t about to ask him to stay. At least not directly.

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alix-delacroix:

“I didn’t break up with him because he had a nightmare. I-” She cut herself off, shaking her head. She had her suspicions about what Brennan was wrapped up in, but she had no proof, no confirmation. “He lied to me. He’s wrapped up in bad shit. And it’s shit I don’t want to be wrapped up in.” A low chuckle left her lips and she brought her cup up for another drink. “Besides, being kicked out at three in the morning is a little on the rude side.”

She bit her lip and looked at Alix, trying to get a read without being silent for too long. Brennan hadn’t been communicative with her---and while she didn’t need to know all his business, it would have been useful if he would talk about himself every once in a while. “He’s probably just stressed out---with the store and Wyatt and, you know, Holly.” she said, the name of his sister coming out more quietly than the rest of her words. “Maybe you two should talk it out when he’s calmed down. You know, before you slash his tires or something---which I would be in full support of, by the way, if he has a car.” she added with an attempt at a smile.

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brennanbrogan:

He didn’t respond to her more self-deprecating response, instead noting that she had taken her art to a criminal level. He thought of Wyatt, whose art had found a medium that allowed for alternative expression while remaining within the law. At least as a tattoo artist, he was getting arrested a lot less. He figured painting her walls wasn’t the worst thing Ramona could be doing now. He walked over to the window sill, looking at her rough draft version quietly. Picking up one in particular, he was careful not to rip it in any way. “This is good,” he told her sincerely. “You don’t give yourself enough credit where your talents lie.” 

Ramona felt an odd sense of embarrassment as he complimented her---she almost wished he hadn’t liked the art. Defending herself was something she was good at, something she knew how to do almost too well. Accepting compliments---at least when they weren’t coming from a flirtatious place---was entirely foreign to her. “Yeah, well, you know, I only had the one pen and the napkins are from the bar, so.” she said in a practically irritated way, almost as if he’d just insulted her. “I have other colors of paint and stuff, though. So it’ll look different on the wall.”

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brennanbrogan:

He glanced her way when she explained what she was planning to do, already forming a picture of how it might look when she was done. “It sounds beautiful,” he admitted, wondering how he hadn’t known she was artistic. Of course, she hadn’t exactly shared it without him but still. He was constantly stunned by the things he didn’t know about Ramona. “Did you want to take that further?” he asked when she admitted she’d studied art. 

Ramona scoffed. “Yeah, sure. I’m a real Michelangelo.” she joked, dismissing the idea with a shake of her head. Art had never really been anything she considered more than a hobby---but, then again, nobody had ever asked her that before. Her focus in school had been partying and causing a ruckus, not what she did in class. “It kind of only takes getting busted for graffiti once to put a sour taste in your mouth.” She added with a small smile---it had taken quite a bit of her mother’s money (and she suspected a few memory charms) to get her out of that one. Big canvases had always been her thing. “Look on the windowsill, though. Those are my ideas.” she said, pointing to a stack of napkins from the bar covered in ink. All her proportions were off; everything she drew was larger than life, full of wobbly lines and cartoonish features----and lots of bright colors, when she had paint. Real life had no place in her art.

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noah-kettleburn:

Noah shrugged. “I figure I have enough reasons for it.” He looked back up at Ramona. “Though maybe I could work on the beard bit. Try and fit in a little more with the crowd, you know?”

She tilted her head at him, really studying his face. “Hmm...” she wondered, reaching out to touch his chin. “I think you might want to stay clean shaven. Or just stick with a nice five o’clock shadow.” she said with a laugh, pulling her hand away. “But that might just be a personal preference.”

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alix-delacroix:

“We didn’t break up because he had a fucking nightmare. We broke up because he lied to me.” Alix snapped. Her grip on her drink tightened. Ramona probably already know the truth. But to admit it out loud, admit it to herself, was almost too unbearable. Looking back at Ramona, she dropped her voice to a whisper. “I know. I know Brennan’s a Blood Thief.”

Ramona blinked rapidly, her heart pounding. “What?” She had no idea what got Alix thinking that, but she knew it was only a suspicion. There was no way Brennan had told her anything outright---no way he would endanger all of them like that. “Oh my god. I thought you were fucking around. You’re serious?” she said as an explanation of her initial silence, forcing a breathless chuckle and lowering her voice to Ali’s level. “You think old man Brogan, who runs a quaint little cauldron shop and owns a toaster that costs more than my rent, moonlights as a secret pureblood vigilante killer? Are you high?” Although her heart rate was going a million miles per hour, Ramona hadn’t lived the life she had without learning to be a good liar.

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brennanbrogan:

He shook his head, pushing away from the wall and moving toward the rapidly-drying paint. She hadn’t done a bad job, though that didn’t surprise him. She was often good at things she put her mind to, if she would give herself the chance. She certainly didn’t know how to back down, anyway. “So instead of trying to be something, just… let go.” He looked back at her, raising his shoulders. “Rely on your instincts. Stop basing your actions in fears and doubts and the need to prove yourself.”

She didn’t look at him, didn’t nod or shake her head---but she heard him. She couldn’t help but feel that nobody had ever been this honest with her; or, at least, that nobody had managed to be honest and kind to her at the same time. After a little while she looked up and saw him studying her paint job. “It’s not finished. I’m going to do this mural thing---I think I’m gonna paint a city skyline on one side, a forest on another. Not sure about the other two, but I just want something to look at. The view out that window is shit.” She was excited about her project, no matter how rusty she was. Anything would be better than what it used to be. “I used to do art at school. You know, as my elective.”

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alix-delacroix:

Ali nodded slowly. “Yeah, sounds like a good time. I’ll ask around see if I can gather up a proper squad.” She took a sip from her drink, a desperate attempt to buy time to formulate her answer. It was possible Ramona knew. But it was also possible she didn’t. And Wyatt was an easy out. But Ali was sick of all the lies. “He…he had a nightmare. Which we fought about.”

Surprise was obvious in Ramona’s face---there had to be more to that story. “You guys broke up because he had a nightmare?” Brennan certainly had reasons for his mind not to be totally clear---his sister, the girl in the alley. Annoyance creeped into Ramona’s mind; Alix had to be more empathetic than to fight with a guy over a nightmare. “That’s...kind of brutal, babe.”

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noah-kettleburn:

“I was looking for a new hobby. Figured I’d give day drinking a shot.” He winked at her with a smirk as he took another sip.

She laughed, nodding. “Fair enough. We’ve got a couple of regulars who enjoy that hobby.” she said “Usually they’re old sad men with long beards, though. You might be the youngest I’ve seen.”