#dylan001

[theromandaniels]

≈ blue harbor public library. with @dylxwestwick

Libraries were the last few places of pure sanctuary on this earth. Open to all, free, people mulling about and minding their business. Quiet. Oh, so so quiet. When the noise of the store got to Roman, he often found himself just leaving mid-shift, deciding that Re-Chording would be fine in the hands of the college kids the previous owner before Roman’s takeover had hired. 

Look, he was nice enough to keep these kids in a job, even if they were ignorant and a bit up themselves. 

It had been one of those days, and he slipped out before another stupid fucking question could be directed his way, walking over to the library, grateful for the bright sunshine warming him through the small journey. It meant more families would be outside today, and not ruining the sacred serenity of the library. Still, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows as he beelined straight to his preferred non-fiction section, finding that the biography of the artist he had been reading about wasn’t on the shelf. After consulting the librarian on duty, he found that it was the only copy they had, and whilst they could request another one, it hadn’t actually been checked out yet if he wanted to wait and see, meaning the status was left up in the air, but the book hadn’t gotten far. Roman decided to find out who had it, see if there was a way he could obtain it for an hour or so. 

The only reason he didn’t check it out himself was simply the reason he liked being at the library: everything outside these walls was loud and distracting,and  taking it home or buying his own copy when he could find respite in the library seemed counter-productive to his needs. Also, he wasn’t that up himself to admit he’d probably rack up quite a few late fees as well. Eventually, scanning the tables rewarded him, briefly recognising the brunette who had the book on her person, remembering speaking to her a long time ago about music and art. “What are the chances you’re just holding onto that before another book catches your fancy?” He asked when approaching her, “Or is that book absolutely vital to whatever you have going on?”

[thephoebeyates]

> The People's Pierogi. For @dylxwestwick

With the sun shining, Phoebe decided to take advantage of the nice weather, and to her personally, no better way than with some delicious dumplings in a place where it was outside seating only. Feeling like she hadn’t seen Dylan around, she invited the art curator to join her, because good dumplings were only matched with good company, after all.

“So, how’s everything? How’s Theo? And Nana?” She asked as she collected her food from the stand, sitting opposite the other brunette on the benches provided.

[archived-thecjwelford]

≈ waterway diner. with @dylxwestwick

He was hoping to catch Tefi before she headed back to Philly for a few days, just because she had tried implementing some sort of order to the apartment and now CJ couldn’t find his sneakers. However, still reeling from excess partying and jet lag, it had turned out that the racer had missed Tefi by a good day (and felt immensely bad he hadn’t seen her in the small living space she called home). So instead, he just ordered a burger and decided to chill, no point the trip to Waterway Diner being a wasted one, after all.

As he took a big bite of his double XL burger, he spotted the familiar top of a familiar head and, not caring about the other diners enjoying their evening meals in the relative quiet of the eatery, stood up on the old vinyl booth, waving manically. “Dyl! Dylan! Hi!” 

[clarabaudelaire]

status: closed for @grinningdevils ( dylan )

location: outside of seduction

The neon sign of Seduction casts a garish red glow over the sidewalk, reflecting off puddles of melting snow. Clara stands near the curb, arms crossed, cigarette burning lazily between her fingers as she deadpans the man in front of her. Some loser; probably can't afford to hang out in the actual strip club so he skulks around outside, Clara surmises. He's saying something about how she "looked like she needed company". She didn’t. Doesn't. And she weighs her options internally, debating whether telling him outright to fuck off would even get through his thick skull. And what if he caused a scene? She found the idea of dealing with fragile masculinity-induced hysterics tiresome. Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of muffled bass spilling out into the night as someone steps out. Clara recognizes him from inside. A bartender. Eyes flicker to him as an idea sparks.

“Hey!” she calls out to the other, trying to make her voice warm and familiar as if greeting an old friend. She turns back to her unwanted company with a terse smile. “Sorry, but my friend’s finally here.” Clara steps closer and, under her breath, mutters, “Play along, and I’ll give you every dollar in my wallet.”

[themadisynhuang]

The Nightmare Before Christmas was one of those movies that Madi surprisingly had a good memory for, grinning widely at the idea. "I can see it, you'd make an excellent Sally." And that wasn't even a lie, more of an honest observation. When asked about her own costume history, Madi's smile softened, a sense of bittersweet nostalgia washing over her. "I mean, it's basic as fuck but a few years back my ex and I did the Joker and Harley Quinn. Margot's Harley, which is pretty sexy." Not Madisyn's first pick, but back then it was Dom's way or the high way.

"Mmhm, that's why I went more classic Halloween I think. Just fun!" That and she thought a twist on an iconic holiday staple would be a sure-fire way to earn her some points with the judges. Now her mouth no longer felt like cotton, Madi could taste just how awful the beer was, pulling a face. "Well, see you on stage babe when they announce the winners! If you excuse me!" And she went on her merry way to get herself a better drink.

End.

Dylan found her smile spreading at the compliment and nodded, "Yeah, I thought so too! My partner wanted to do somethin' Nightmare Before Christmas related which also would've been fun too and we could always do that one next year." She shared as she felt like maybe before then she would have time to actually watch the movie for her to understand the costume idea. Nodding along, the other woman was totally right, Dylan couldn't even recall if she had ever really done a sexy Halloween costume. If so it was definitely not since she moved to Blue Harbor, her costumes have been mostly just cute and fun. "Yeah, I think the closest I've gotten to sexy in the past few years was either when I was Buttercup from Princess Bride or Rosie the Riveter. But I wouldn't classify those really as sexy. What about you? You've got like a very outfit you've done in recent years?'

To say that Dylan was shocked when the woman just plucked a beer from someone else to drink it would have been an understatement. She had no idea what took over the woman, who definitely seem the type to want to share germs. She didn't know if she should ask her if she was okay or not. "Right, yeah I mean why not! I just kinda enter in every year at this point just 'cause. I don't actually ever pick somethin' that I think will win, but it's fun just to participate."

[spellbindingnights]

@ofginjxints

It had not been a really good day for Ophelia, in fact, it had been a horrible one. For some reason, the bouncers had been more distracted than usual and there were a lot of sleazy men touching her when they shouldn't. Then, she got a call from her parents' nurse, asking for more money and giving her not so great news about their health.

There was so much to take, and Ophelia had spent almost half an hour in the hotel parking lot crying her eyes out. When she noticed the time, she was almost late to her appointment with Dylan, so she got out of the car and rushed towards their usual hotel room. Ophelia tried to compose herself, brush her remaining tears away and look presentable and desirable, but her eyes were too red and puffy, not matter how much she tried to hide it.

She was five minutes late and she cursed as she used the magnetic key to open the door. Ophelia immediately put the 'do not disturb' sign before entering the bedroom properly and found Dylan there. "I am so sorry, hun... this is so unprofessional" she apologized quicky. "It won't happen again" she promised. It was nothing, just five minutes, but she didn't want him to think that she didn't take this seriously (even if she wasn't charging him anymore).

"Would you like to take a warm bath? Or should we just lay down?" She then asked, letting him decide.

[angeloconnor]

Status: closed @dylandunsmore​

Location: the carnival 

Angel has the munchies, which is multiplied by a million now that alcohol has been thrown into the equation. There’s no point in pretending that the hunger suddenly consuming her is anything different, but what better place to have the munchies than at a carnival? At the moment, she’s a bottomless pit with an abyss for a stomach, and she has deep fried anything and everything at her fingertips. If there’s a god, then goddamn this must be heaven. 

She’s methodical as she lays the spread out on the table, flowing with excitement as she swings her long legs across the bench of the picnic table and takes a seat across from Dylan. A little shimmy touches her shoulders as she slides her beer out of the way, getting in position to fuck up this food. But then she glances up, immediately squinting when the weird fog seemingly hanging over her friend finally registers. “What’s wrong with you?” Angel asks plainly as she reaches for a fried pickle spear, dipping it in ranch before taking a bite. “You look like you’ve seen a fucking ghost.” 

[annie-perrault]

Horsing Around || Dylan & Annie

@dylan-meir​:

[The girl says she’s okay, but everything else about her says otherwise. She’s practically shaking, and she looks like she’s about to cry. Dylan is given the strong impression of a newborn calf lost in a herd. Any panic Dylan felt over nearly running someone over is replaced by pity and pure concern. All she wants to do now is wrap this girl up and shove a mug of hot tea into her hands.]

Nothing to be sorry for. I was the one not looking where I was going; well, me and Queenie here. Technically the horse is supposed to do half the driving, but frankly they just don’t have the smarts for it. [She lowers her voice to a stage whisper.] Don’t tell them I said that, though. They’d never forgive me. Now, are you sure you’re alright? You look a bit shell-shocked.

☀

[Dylan’s stage-whispered joke about the horses being stupid elicits a short, surprised laugh from Annie. She’s still amped up from the panicky adrenaline running through her veins but it’s easier to make the conscious decision to slow down and take a breath when it’s so obvious Dylan hadn’t done anything maliciously. Not that Annie expects anyone would deliberately try to run her over with a horse, but her mind jumps to dark, paranoid places sometimes, in the heat of the moment. And Dylan’s approach is about the best way to put Annie at ease -- acting like the two of them are in on a joke. ] 

Mhm, I’m... I’m okay, just... catching my breath. Haven’t had a near-death experience since the Falling so it kind of caught me off guard. [Annie manages a smile, if an awkward one. Dylan seems really nice, she’s got a bright, open sort of energy that kind of reminds her of Maisie.] The horse is called Queenie? I didn’t know they had names. Is it... okay if I touch her?

[Annie had taken a couple of horse riding lessons when she was a kid, and she liked them, even if they were a bit intimidating. But she’s not sure about this one yet, because it’s still pawing at the ground from its exertions. From the easy way Dylan had leapt off the horse it’s pretty clear she’s an experienced rider, so the fact that she’s comfortable with the horse doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a nice horse.]

[cambieandrews]

Friday Night Blues || Dylan & Cambie

@dylan-meir​:

[The warmth from the ovens mingles with pride at the compliment in Dylan’s chest. It’s one thing to be told her cooking is good by her family, who are more or less obligated to like it. It’s another thing entirely to be validated by a complete stranger who has no stakes in the game. It makes Dylan feel a little less homesick, if someone who isn’t from home enjoys her bread just as much.]

It’s not imposing if I’ve invited you, is it? [She points out with a smile.] It’s challah. My family used to make it every Friday. But this is my first time doing it on my own. If you think this is fancy, you should see my aunt’s six-strand circular braid. [On holidays, she’d do elaborate patterns and decorative shapes, and in the end it’d almost be too beautiful to eat. Maybe someday Dylan could get to that level. For now, she’s just happy that it didn’t come out burnt. As she speaks, she breaks off a piece and offers it to the woman.] Here. It’s best with butter and honey, but since those are in short supply right now, we’ll have to eat it plain.

☀

Very true. [Cambie laughs, taking a seat opposite Dylan. She’s trying to get better with boundaries, but… yes, given she’d been invited, there obviously wasn’t anything to worry about here.

She sees why she’d picked up on a little melancholy in Dylan’s face -- it’s her first time making it alone. Cooking with family is something that can be so personal, and in the wake of so much loss… it probably is quite an emotional thing. Cambie certainly still gets wistful whenever she makes a batch of doughnuts; the only thing that stops her from getting weepy over missing her father is the number of happy memories associated with the act of baking. Happy, sleepy early mornings at the diner, disastrous Christmas experiments, the delighted smile on the face of a regular when they got a free doughnut with their coffee… Cambie thought that was what her dad would want her to think about, not how much she missed him.

Thanking Dylan for the offered piece of bread, she takes a hearty bite. And god, it is gorgeous. It tastes just as good as it smells, and is beautifully soft. Cambie sighs happily, dancing from side to side in her chair. There’s nothing like freshly baked goods to lift the spirit, and she’d already been in a good mood.] 

Mmm, lovely! You should be so proud of this. It might not have six strands but I bet it tastes just as good as your aunt’s. I don’t think it even needs honey and butter. You’d better not leave it out, or it’s all going to disappear within the hour.

[Cambie usually pretends not to be aware of the fact that people on food prep often help themselves to some extra portions. It seems fair to her that if you prep the food you get a little extra. A loaf of freshly baked bread wouldn’t stand a chance, though, and there’s no use pretending.]

[oceanerowen]

It’s a given that it draws her to the beach, it had only been a matter of time until she finds herself barefoot in the sand with waves lapping at her feet. Her pool, as beautiful and deep as it was, could only keep her for so long. She inhales the fresh breeze, yearning to dive into the cool water. Oh she loves it. The freedom, the raw energy and serenity, that lingers beneath the crashing waves. She still does yearn to control it. It’s been a century and Océane still misses her abilities. As happy and comfortable as she is, as chthonic—- there are things she does miss. A noise alerts her, steps, in the sand, muffled but she still hears them. Dylan. 

She recognizes him, realizes nearly immediately that he no longer carried the stench of the Chateau. “No longer a prisoner I see.” she greets him, a smile playing around her lips. “Care to join me for a swim?” she doesn’t await for a response, dropping her heels that she had been carrying into the sand, out of reach for the waves, and starts to undress, losing her dress, revealing she had worn nothing underneath, before she heads for the waves, expecting him to follow.

@dylanxsong​

[cvnstantin]

Winding Pathways || Dylan & Constantin

@dylan-meir​:

[At first, Dylan thought she’d made the wrong choice. He seemed focused on his work, and when he looked up he examined her with a scrutinizing eye. For a moment, she worried that he’d spotted her tattoo and was going to tell her to shove off. His voice was rough too, low and thick with some kind of East European accent. But his words were inviting, if equally curt, and she relaxed into a smile.] That’d be great, thanks!

[There’s a bit of a joke in his words, although maybe Dylan’s just reading too much into it. But he doesn’t seem bothered by her current state. Just curious. Dylan sheepishly tries to brush some of the earth from her cloth and just succeeded in getting more of it on her hands.] Yeah, I was doing some grounds-keeping. Planting, mostly. I haven’t gotten much to take yet, but it’s good work. And it’s better than being cooped up in here all day.

[He finds himself with a bit of a smile as Dylan brushes the dirt from her clothes, not actually succeeding in cleaning herself off at all. Constantin doesn’t mind. He’d had to learn to be meticulously clean as an adult - the Space Station doesn’t do well with dirt - but he’d grown up playing in the mud with little concern for whether he’d be tracking mud inside.

At her mention of planting, he perks right up with obvious interest. It’s news to him that anyone here is bothering to even try, even if it’s not in an official capacity. A common topic of conversation between him and Anaya is how absurd it is that they’re not focusing on farming, when it seems like such a clear path to rebuilding society. Though he’s fairly focused on taking his careful, shuffling steps forward towards Delma, he is evidently very interested in what Dylan has to say.] Really, you do this? That make me happy to hear. I never hear of anyone trying to plant things, and it seem very foolish because it is important to have steady food source. You are new? I think I vould hear by now if someone has been planting.

[supersonicdreams]

@ofginjxints​ || continued from ( x )

There was something tragic about Dylan that Ophelia felt so drawn to. She had met her fair share of damaged people, but he was different. Most people wanted to fuck their problems away, to forget about things, but no one ever asked her to do this. Dylan never touched her like that, he never demanded anything else from her than just company and some affection. Ophelia spooned him, running her tender fingers over his hair. Her free hand caressed his chest.

“You know that whatever you say stays in this bedroom, right?” She reminded him, resting her chin on his collarbone. “You can talk to me, honey” she spoke softly. Many men confide in her many things. It was unbelievable how many secrets they would spill to her, things they wouldn’t talk to their wives.

[hyunisms-a]

closed starter for: @thedylanhan​

“you’re running the marathon with me, right? don’t worry, i’ll try not to outrun you.”

[yooseung]

closed starter for: @thedylanhan​ 

“the fuck are you looking at? can you, like, fuck off someplace else? i’m waiting for my sister.”

[oflur]

where: adler hotel grand ballroom  when: june 4, 2021 who: @mcnamaste

Mirana offers a rare smile ( or, at least, a wide smirk ) as she approaches Dylan in the ballroom. “ Ah, if it isn’t a familiar face I’m actually happy to see, ” she teases, holding out a second glass of champagne like she hadn’t been planning to down both herself mere moments ago. “ Care for a glass ? It makes the rest of the guests much easier to tolerate. ”

[oceanerowen]

She is playing her favourite game, well, second favourite, she is just outside the café, barely minding the rapidly cooling paper cup in her hand because her attention is focused on the pedestrians that flood past her. She is picking them at random, a child that lets go of his mother’s hand and runs off, disappearing in the forst of legs here, a prisoner that attempts to make a run for it there—- idle business, something to keep her mind a little occupied while the plan of what to do next, of whether or not and if so how to impliment an arm of her business here still formed.

When another prisoner–guard combination approaches her, she decides to mess with the guard instead of the prisoner, prompting him to turn around and wander off, forgetting his duties of making sure he got the prisoner around town. Her attention shifts to the prisoner, curious to see what he would do with his new found freedom. // @dylcnreid​