Alcohol Tw - Blog Posts

Diverting his gaze, of course, not wanting to give her much reason to try and assess what may or may not have been going on with him these days. Though the sunglasses, despite being inside, stayed on his face. He still had dark circles and wasn't feeling his best. At her smile, he listened to Faye as she replied to him. Nodding his head a little along with her words, and laughing lightly at her return pinching gesture. Waving his right hand playfully, he says, “No reason to. Really. Nothing to be concerned about.” Azazel wouldn't say that was the truth, of course. But he couldn't remember all too well what had happened, perhaps he was even, he imagined, suppressing it.

Watching her drink down her shot, he lifted his left hand up to his face, resting his head in it as he leaned onto the bar top. He just wanted this. A return to normal, though, how much it did for his current abundance of nervousness and paranoid-things, like thoughts, sounds, sights. Waving his right hand as the bartender came back, he got another shot. Then turned his head, adjusting it slightly, “What? Can't a guy just go no contact for a bit?” Pausing, his brows knit together briefly, before he put on a smile, “You could say it's been about the same for me. Busy. Like a little bee.” Clearing his throat then he reached his hand out as his drink was placed in front of him. Staring at it for some time, “Just got to get back into the usual motions, ugh. Vacations over.” 

Lifting the glass, he tilted his head back as he brought it to his lips, downing the shot. Then gently placed it back on the bar top and, turning his head to look around. After tonight, things were not seeming right. He swallowed, then asked, “Been a weird night, huh?” Just to keep the conversation more present, though he knocked his head a little, “Guess this whole fest is always a little weird, though, you know? I remember coming out as a teenager, it used to have some unusual things to buy. A lot of aliens. But then, what do you expect? It's Nevada.”

a far more genuine chortle of laughter tumbles its way from between plump lips as Faye registers Azazel's response, the prolonged absence of companionship threatening to sink its way back into a sense of familiarity for her. having wondered about the man's abrupt leave for so long - pondering over what if's and what happened's - it was quite difficult to not miss him to a certain extent. of course, the ample time to linger over an acquaintance's hidden whereabouts would be drastically dwindled down after being swept up into more tasks for The Cactus Cats, or assisting in rearranging the haunted museum. to put it more simply, Faye was a busy, busy woman with heaps of responsibilities on her plate -- an aspect she wasn't necessarily in opposition to considering it made her feel like she truly discovered a place she could call home. but lately though? she deemed herself to be grateful for the minute relief now that the Weekend of Horrors event was swinging in full effect throughout Vegas, Stella and Cyrek long before then having been swamped with obligations of getting their records shop officially up and running for business aside from other duties.

pearly whites on display, the petite woman retaliated, "paint me just a tad bit concerned." dainty hands playfully feigning coolness as she brought her index finger and thumb close together to mimic a pinch gesture, afterwards quickly beckoning to the bartender on shift for another shot to be filled with her preferred vodka. directing her attention back towards the dark haired individual, her gaze scanned over the being perched next to her. it wasn't every day you went from often greeting a neighbor to noticing and growing accustomed to their mysterious departure, and he didn't seem to especially exude the indication of wanting to delve into the subject, so she'd leave matters well enough alone. grasping the same glassware to consume the clear booze within it, Faye swiftly tossed the tiny cup back before bringing it back to the wooden surface with a resounding 'thud.' raising her hand up to swipe the excess liquid away from a corner of her mouth, she replied, "and here i thought i had a knack for falling off the face of the Earth. i've been peachy - keeping busy, per usual - better now that my drinking buddy is back in town, and you?" God knows she wasn't going to prod, but if he was willing to open up to her as previous drunken sessions demonstrated, then who was she to turn away from him?

Of course, not everyone was fully aware he had returned. It wasn't like he was trying to broadcast it, either. It was already a problem enough to explain to those he absolutely had to, about his absence, and then return. Without actually having to tell them what it was about. The current goings-on were a graceful distraction from all of that, however. People were more interested in their fun than in asking why he was away so long, what he was doing, and why people thought he might be dead. Clearly, he wasn't dead, but maybe he contemplated it at this point. Sweat coated as he stepped into the bar, looking somewhat sickly but quite presentable. All he had to do was tell himself he was fine, and the mental fortitude he was forcing on himself did the rest of the work. Moving to take a seat as he saw a familiar head in front of him, he grinned at the exclamation. Then, reaching over, he playfully pinched Faye's cheek, gently, before pulling his hand away from her face.

Then flagged down the bartender currently working, thankful it wasn't Cyrek. He supposed the other might be out having fun, or something he didn't want to think about at the moment. Maybe if he were lucky, the other might be face down in a ditch, and out of his hair. Okay, perhaps that was undeserved. He didn't wish anything too awful to happen to his…acquaintance. But, lately, his former irritation with the other seemed to reignite itself, with the other's previous actions perhaps being a little more unresolved for him than he previously thought. Azazel turned to properly face Faye, then said, “Did you miss me?” He asked as his drink, the usual he ordered, was placed in front of him, “Finally, some good liquor.” He muttered, gulping down the whole shot. Toying with the glass, he winces a bit, then continues, “Surprised you didn't see me before now, what have you been doing?”

event: weekend of horrors

location & date: the mean eyed-cat bar, april 21st, 1996 @ 9pm

closed starter: @withoutmonsterswebecomethem

a rather large throng of individuals occupied the mean-eyed cat bar this particular evening, but as expected, in blatant honesty. after all, it was the weekend of horrors, indicating the turnout consisted of a variety of characters and personalities, far and wide in between. some were dressed clad in cartoon themed attire, a group of young men donning each of the teenage mutant ninja turtles while some sported a flared out collar and a mimicked dribble of blood trailing from the corner of their lips. bringing the corner of her shot glass up to down the contents of vodka, faye couldn't help but to smoothly chuckle to herself upon the keen observance. oh, the irony. lips twist up to form a soured expression after the thick liquid cascaded down her throat, a brief shake of her head triggering corkscrew coils to fly about as though the action itself would aid in minimizing the alcohol's strength. but that wasn't the point at all, she was here for a purpose and that was to become under the influence. luckily for faye, her heightened sensitivities would allow that to take place quite easily. slamming the glassware down onto the mahogany surface, her thoughts come to a pause once she notices a familiar form settling down beside her, bambi like eyes widening by just the smallest fraction before she exclaimed, "pinch me!" talk about seeing a ghost.

Azazel held his gaze on the other, unbroken, for a time, before he blinked, almost too slowly. Then turned his head and muttered, “The fuck does it look like I just did, hm?” The other usually wore on his patience, but not enough before now to have him reacting anymore aggressively. But notably, at this moment, he was. Of course, at this moment, he had a lot more lore than he had some of the previous times they had run into one another. Azazel moved to rest his head in his left hand, bringing his left elbow to rest on the counter. He still knew not to press more than necessary, lest he end up breaking the mask more than it was able to bend in these conditions. Forcing a smile as Cyrek went on, he shook his head a bit, “Oh. Come now. I'm a reasonable person, even if I'm not your favorite at times. I can be very-ah, companionably.”

He glanced around the bar, sighing at it being one of the few he liked to go to, even if it belonged to the wrong team. Though he had never concerned himself with that, as long as his team was on top of the pile of skulls, in the end. Turning his gaze back onto Cyrek as he went on, he nodded his head a bit, “You think I would?” He laughed, biting on his bottom lip, not sure the other could be trusted to read others. Though he was in no mood to dissuade the others' wrong assumptions, if The Art of War taught him anything, like the most basic and sensible advice in the world, it was to just ignore such attempts at slights by the supposed enemy. Cyrek wasn't seen as a threat to Azazel, however, more like a tick that just needed to be burned off every once in a while to go spin his head in a different direction.

Grinning, Azazel wondered how many of those silly drinks ever really got sold, probably a reasonable amount for them to be on a menu, instead of some secret order a dumb college kid created while high off his ass during a bender for some pledge to a sorority or fraternity. Azazel was an adult, however, long since passed mixing his drinks to create some bullshit, he just wanted to roll his blunts, smoke off the nerves in his living room while watching Care Bears, in the sanctity of his own home. A few shots deep, surrounded by other things. Though he didn't choose to do that, on this night. He was here, instead. Listening to this acquaintance of his trying his best to stand next to him on that pile of skulls, Azazel narrowed his eyes a bit. At least, that's what he assumed, or was it the workings of his paranoia trying to make a threat? He sucked on his teeth a bit, “Powder my nose?” He scrunched his nose a bit, not sure what to make of that comment.

“Aww, Cyrek, do you think I'm pretty? Only the most vain of people powder their noses, though.” He grabbed the drink then, downing it like a champ and huffing out a breath to one side, “It's alright. But it could be stronger.” Tipping the class upside down, he pushed it gently from him, “I bet I could breathe fire, in some circumstances, but, like I said, I'd need something, like--… Gasoline? What do you think?” Though gasoline didn't taste all that pleasant, not, that he had ever tried to breathe fire before, of course not. He had absolutely tried before.

"Alright, then don't order it," the bartender threw up his hands in mock surrender at that, the folly of showperson's charisma ebbing out of his pores, replacing any sense of congeniality with a wrinkle of his brow and a thin-lipped grimace. Half the time, it seemed like it was the agenda of people who walked through the door to make his job significantly more strenuous than it had to be — though, in the case of anyone involved with the Vitellis, he kind of leaned into the inclination that that was their quid pro quo for strife he'd eventually reaped what he sow. "No harm, no foul to me. You'll probably stiff me on the tip anyway." Which begged the question why Azazel would bother entering a biker bar that was arguably outside of the comfort of the family bounds, and there was plenty of alcohol they could get for free at one of the casinos, surely. Now that he wasn't under the guise of playing nice, he let out a snort, reaching for a clean glass to serve him. He didn't feel like getting shit on the job at Azazel's expense, if nothing else. "Think you'd crack for the feds a lot faster than I would. Sure that you got some secrets you'd squeal over."

The laminated sheet clattered noisily back to its resting place under the bar, to be turned down by another dozen patrons before he finally could hightail it home for the evening, or a couple blocks over where the lights on the Strip were crystalline enough to illuminate the shadowed building of the future home of Skratch Records. Thank you. "Oh, surprised you remembered manners." Cyrek certainly let it slip his mind if people gave him reason to. Pouring out the drink, he narrowed his eyes to catlike slits, he slid it over to him, chewing on his inner cheek and itching to reach for the pack of gum in his back pocket and unroll a strip. "Uh-huh," he grunted out, unimpressed with the pass, "Good luck breathin' fire with this, mate. You might be goin' through a lot of drinks if that's what you're after. Might find it easier if you powder your nose in the bathroom instead."

@naiveete

Getting up from his spot at the lounge, he moved back to the bar, taking a seat as he waited for someone to take his next drink order. He slouched, leaning more onto his left side as he rested his head in his left hand, enjoying this little moment of bliss he was having, one of the few he could manage to grasp since returning.

Was this a smart decision? No. It was late, later than he might have liked, since he would have to walk home alone, and risk the same thing happening. But he was being careless about that potential. Not wanting to think of, well, anything stressful at all, he opted to ramble, “Did you know-” He started, half just starting to talk to his neighbor, having not really tried to talk to them at all, “Small pockets of air inside cranberries cause them to bounce and float in water...Cool, right?”

At the question, Azazel just narrowed his eyes a bit. He didn't have time for this level of stupidity, right now. Maybe it was because he had been gone for such a long time, and had only recently been going back to drinking at places that weren't his house. But, still, he stood silently in front of the other. Thinking that, this, this was someone who would be a great reason for why he hated listening to people talk, “Yes.” Azazel finally answered to having the 'usual'. His eye contact maintained on the other's own gaze, intense, as if he might be challenging the other to say something else just as abysmally stupid as what was just said. Azazel could only imagine it wouldn't take long, and he was right. Because, as Cyrek continued, he could only imagine at this point, just to annoy him, he stood quiet. Listening to what the other said, almost against his will. Tapping his fingers tips on his hands against the surface of the bar, he dropped his head down, sucking in a breath, “No? And, I don't fucking care right now.” Okay, maybe that was a lie. Lifting his head back up, he put on a grin, his head tilting slightly. Blinking, he continued, “They should put you on the case. We'll have it solved a lot sooner, I'm sure.” Maybe he should have toned it down, he told himself. He was simply just on edge, for a multitude of reasons, and Cyrek's yapping, considering their history, wasn't helping level off that edge he was on, “Mmm.” That was all he could initially offer to Cyrek, bringing up the month's specials, suddenly feeling exhausted. Inhaling, he glanced up, considering some thoughts before suddenly turning his head, then looked back to the other just as quickly. Azazel looked at the sheet that was now on the countertop and frowned, “I, hate, all of these.” He commented, unkindly, expressionless. Then placed his left hand on the sheet and pushed it back toward Cyrek. Only to bring his left hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Sure, okay. Okay. Thank you. Just, give me the usual, the hardest stuff you have. None of that crap you're peddling on that sheet. I need something that would let me breathe fire, or that could run a car.”

@boneyardstarters at the mean-eyed cat bar

After giving a PTA mom a covert look of judgment for ordering a Bloody Mary, of everything on the menu of specials, and scraping some asshole's tip in change off one of the booths and side-eyeing the coins to count them rather than look directly into the ugly mug of old George Washington, Cyrek was ready to give his attention to a regular at the bar who wasn't bitching and moaning into his deaf ear. "The usual, or you want somethin' else?" A pair of mismatched eyes hovered over their shoulder to stare at the newscasting of the latest about a victim with no blood and guts, and Vegas' finest doing really fuck-all beyond spinning their heads. "You hear the news? Bet they got no idea who it is this time, either. You'd think they would've pinned down a frequent spot and staked it out or whatever." As if the MC needed the potential for a detective to breathe down their neck more than one already was, but he digressed; small talk about local happenings keyed him up to where they should avoid, and the rumors circulating around. "I got this month's specials out now, too." Reaching under the bar to slap down a laminated sheet for some Boozy Bunny or carrot juice-infused cocktails, the latter of which reminded him of when he'd pureed the vegetable into baby food with a pot and a processor. "Unless someone gets mowed down by a guy in a bunny suit next and we gotta put those on hold, too."

"Not really. They had the best program and I got in. Made sense," she answered, flicking the ashes from her cigarette, "and I had already moved to North Carolina before that. Equally far from Minnesota. Although I guess Durham wasn't as wild as New York City." She shrugged at their question, carefully considering her answer. "I don't know. I guess it depends on what you mean by home. It's been, what, sixteen years since I've lived in the Midwest." She studied them for a moment, full brows knitted together. "You don't seem to be the biggest fan of the city. What brought you here?"

"Only if you don't share." Theo gave the other a playful smirk as they both walked in tandem through New York. "You came all the way here for uni then? That's bold." They said as they offered to lit her cigarette and then lit their own, making them stop walking for a moment. "What does feel more like home, here or your hometown?"

They both resumed their walk soon after their cigs were lit. It was a nice night in New York. Theo wasn't used to that type of heat yet but they didn't mind it all that much. They'll mind it less when they get that cold beer.

Zahra nodded as they explained it was their first time at Joe's. It didn't seem like the bar had made a particularly good first impression, no matter how Zahra enjoyed its atmosphere. "I see. It's a fine place, really," she promised before finishing her first drink. "Oh, there's loads of good beer in the city. I guess places like these aren't particularly well-known for their excellent selection, though. You could try one of those specialty places."

Once Theo got both their whiskeys, they gave it a quick smell and swirled it around for a moment. "That's because it's my first time here. Cheers, mate." They said, clinking their glass with hers before taking a small sip of the warm liquid burning down their throat. It was good though, far better than the beer. "Can't go wrong with good ol' Jack-o here." Theo lifted the glass towards her and sipped again. "Haven't been in the city long, keep trying to find some decent beer."

"Just a shot of Jack Daniel's. Or with ice if you're feeling real adventurous." She wasn't a whiskey connoisseur by any means but the fact that it was ordered in large quantities by the patrons mean that the same bottle didn't linger behind the bar for too long. She nodded as the other introduced themselves, tempted to roll her eyes at the question but deciding against it at the last moment. "Zahra. Yeah, I guess I do. You don't though. Haven't seen you before."

Theo hummed at the question since they hadn't considered it for a week night but, honestly, they'd take anything at this point to wash down the taste of the piss poor beer. "Fuck it, what's your poison?" They asked and flagged the bartender again. "Two of what... she?" their eyebrow rose in question. "is having," they finished towards the bartender and turned back their new companion. "I'm Theo, come here often?" a playful smirk at the overused line but hey, it was a good conversation starter.

Joe's Tavern had come to serve a very specific purpose for Zahra. It was dark and dingy, and the drinks were definitely cheaper than the outrageous prices she had come to expect from New York City. It had served her well during her PhD years and she hadn't really bothered trying to find a new spot.

The stranger sat next to her didn't seem to be enjoying the atmosphere quite as much Zahra. She glanced at their beer and shrugged her shoulders.

"Thought of trying anything else?" she asked, eyeing her own shot of Jack Daniel's. It was a safe choice, hard to mess up. "Just don't get the wine."

open starter @bhqextras

where: Joe's Tavern

They've lost count of how many bars they've been to since they moved to the city but they still haven't found a place they can call their place, where you'd find him every Saturday or after a work day where they'd have to deal with a lot more dunces than they'd like (one)

Trying not to snap at the bartender that asked them "a what"?" when they asked for a pint and added a condescending "you're in America, sweetheart, just say beer." as if they could erase from their brain the way they've talked all their lives because they set foot in the country.

And all of that to taste the piss poor excuse of beer the man served them. "Ugh, I don't know what I was expecting. It's like it gets worst every time I taste one of these." Theo shook their head in disgust but took a few more gulps anyway.

the dancer of salt shore had spun about the room, chatting with other guests of the evening and dancing to practically every tune that had been played this evening. she was making her way back across the room when a familiar voice beckoned her to sit with them. turning to see devani toland, a grin crept upon her face. in truth, it mattered not where most nobles came from, whatever squabbles were between them were not necessarily under her radar. figure slid into the chair across from the woman and plucked a golden goblet from a passing tray to partake in drinking dornish red. from the flush of the woman's cheeks, she had already indulged in plenty that evening.

zahra did not enjoy being within the walls of the red keep, almost suffocating in which it was flooded with tresses of silver any which way one would look. she would not really pretend to be entirely alright, either. the death of the qamar of the tor had wounded her more than she allowed herself to process at this point. this night in particular felt heavier, though perhaps it were the full moon that shone brightly in the night sky. regardless, believed she simply needed to get through this visit, and when they were back in dorne she would float around aimlessly, for a while.

"something good?" she snorted, a hearty laughter escaping her, almost to the point of hysterics. "well, if you can avoid the valyrians," zahra leaned in, attempting to be quieter in those words, but failing entirely. "some of these nobles are actually alright." she shrugged, taking a long sip of her goblet now. "i even played a game of cards with a couple of lords, pompous as they were."

@dancingshores

"come and sit with me." there was an air of finality to devani's voice as she beckoned the other woman over. it wasn't her way to watch the room, to weigh up her options before engaging in conversation - once her attention was caught, devi acted upon it. "have a drink. nothing dampens the spirits more than drinking alone, no?" she gestured to a jug of dornish red she had commandeered.

she missed essos. dorne had not been her home for so long that she hardly even considered herself dornish anymore. she was a child of the sun and the sea, at home wherever she found herself. her blood ran hot, her passions hotter, and she followed every whim as it rose within her. those whims were telling her to flee once more, to go back to the life she had when she abandoned her homeland the first time.

and yet, here she remained.

she allowed a brief moment to settle, to drink, before launching back into conversation. "i've been away from dorne for too long. if i'd have known things were this bad, i'd have stayed longer." she laughed, the sound edged in something a little bitter. "tell me something good. i'm not sure my little heart can bear much more doom and gloom."

maksym is far from a frequent flier at redstone ; embodies a distant fly on the wall. present, aware, but perched unmoving against the drywall out of sight. this the opposite of their other half. he, present on the stage with bloodied fingers from the strings, rhythm piercing the already buzzed atmosphere. mak is the oddity here, but who the fuck wasn't an oddity in this town anymore? still it lingers in the corner of their mind just how strange they feel in a bar. unwilling to make eye contact with other patrons as if it'd burn. disinterested in musical commodities such as the band ( or, maybe, just because it welcomed finch ). yet they linger. fly, shadow. anything except a person.

they sit with one whiskey neat and eyes glued to the yellow-tint of their phone screen. it's just something for them to do, bade their time as they drown a misplaced discomfort blooming beneath ribs. it doesn't have a name — mak isn't trying to find it either. they don't notice the this time real shadow looming over them. the figure cast by the low light against the counter ignored. just some other resident. someone looking to burn what lurks beneath murky waters with something stronger.

as the old story goes — it wasn't just some fucking resident.

taylan speaks into their space on purpose, he must. mixes in his volatile presence with their still water. it doesn't startle mak, not necessarily, but it births a new gnawing. their tongue clicks in wordless response, fingers tapping against the drained glass. bored? " bored. " it's a scoff, cousin of a mean laugh. mak doesn't grace taylan with the generosity of a full acknowledgement. tilts their head in a similar way, just barely, encroaching into his space like a quiet challenge. eyes obscured by the hike of their shoulder. the problem with being a nurse in red creek, and red creek in general, was being known. even if their brother wasn't a frequent body with taylan they're sure they'd be noticed still. small town. only hospital. they need out of this fucking place, but they haven't found the open window. " was me not fixing your dumbass up at the hospital enough? " caustic in its own way ; biting without the connection of teeth. fuck, they need another drink. two finger wave towards the bartender and they receive another liquid pacifier. it'd never be liquid courage, they aren't in need of that shit. " i'll bite, taylan. what kind of entertainment you offering? besides the threat of a headache. "

where : redstone bar status : closed for @c0nnectdots

redstone bar thrums with its usual chaos - laughter curling into the sharp notes of a jukebox tune , the slap of cards against table , the steady thud of boots against the floorboards . the air is thick with the tang of spilled whiskey , and a haze of distractions that fails to reach him . taylan stands just inside the doorway , the noise washing over him in waves , but doing nothing to sate the gnawing ache in his chest . it’s an insatiable hunger - the kind no drink or idle conversation can dull . his muscle plead for stillness , but his sinews stretch taut , coiled with restless energy that drives him forward . his chest burns hot - a bitterness festering , like old gear abandoned in the shadows of a rink , forgotten and rusting away . the ache lives too deep , a rot he can’t scrape out , a void that won't be satisfied by anything less than destruction . his eyes flick to the far end of the bar , landing on mak . wrong twin . finch would’ve been a guarantee of chaos , a devil perched on his shoulders , whispering bad ideas into his ear . mak , though , is all stiff-backed judgement , more locked door than partner in crime . taylan moves toward him anyway , his shadow dragging heavy across the floorboards . when he reaches the bar , he doesn’t sit . he looms , shadow pooling over mak's sharp shoulders . for a moment , he says nothing , doesn't even look at them , just signals for a drink . the sharp clink of glass against the counter cuts through the noise . then , with the barest tilt of his head , taylan leans in close enough to crowd their space . “ you look bored . ” he murmurs , low and sardonic , curling between them like smoke . “ let me fix that . ”

oscar had a way of saying things even more outlandish than damon could ever think of. speaking of god, the use of ghastly. a stunted expression crosses their face ; oscar perplexing them as clear as the glasses behind the bar. widened eyes remain fixed against their jawline, mouth ever so slightly parted. as stalwart as it is, their expression shifts with a bang, " well ! " the bang a loud clap of his palms together. " color me fucking flabbergasted! cat catching my tongue. " a bark of laughter as the clapped palms slap against the wood. they knock back their drink with haste, letting the warmth fizzle against their tongue for a moment. " alright, alright. c'mon, spooky ... get to readin' me or whatever. i'm surprised you took me seriously. i was not on this planet. "

óscar  glances  up  from  the  edge  of  their  arnold  palmer,  the  thus  -  far  untouched  three  -  car  spread  that  damon  asked  for  three  days  ago  awaiting  to  reveal  his  fate.  but  what  they  can't  anticipate  is  what  óscar  will  say  to  him;  in  fact,  óscar  themself  can't  predict  a  diddly  -  dang  thing  that  comes  out  their  mouth.  “damon.  we've  both  lived  here  a  long  time.” sage.  serious.  “y'know  i'm  the  only  one  who's  gonna  tell  you:  not  even  god  herself can  save  your  face.” gestures  on  his  own  jawline,  smears  where  a  missed  strip  of  five  o'clock  shadow  seemed  to  stand  on  -  edge,  little  toy  soldiers  of  hair  follicles.  “en  el  nombre  del  padre.”  leaves  the  creed  unfinished,  but  crosses  the  little  area  over  damon's  person.  “now  quit  stalling  and  ask  me  your  question  again.  this  music?  it's  ghastly.  i  can't  remember  a  thing.”

" clearly those melodramatic fucking monologues still get your attention. " words are accompanied by a laugh. sure, they'd noticed the guitarist doing what he does best up on the bar's stage. strumming like there's something to lose in the strings vibrations. hard not to, given history. given damon's insistence on knowing who he was in the room with. the expression on his face shows he doesn't mind finch's appearance, but the scrunch of his nose shows he minds their tab. the snagged bottle didn't even receive that much attention. " and you're still getting me to pay for your drinks. shit just don't change. " and it never seems to. if one day the sky dusted in technicolor, letting off sparks ... maybe they'd view red creek in a different light. the corner of their mouth twitches in a smirk towards the roaming gaze— their own sharp gaze fliting towards a covered hipbone. acknowledgement. a ' F ' and a ' D '. always some sort of reminder they both were here. " well, finny, ain't that the question? what haven't i fucking done? " two fingers tap against the wood of the bar. they mimic the rhythm strummed on the bass just moments ago ; the thing that countered the slight tension in the atmosphere. maybe that was just damon's, though. anxiety they'd briefly exposed with that dramatic fucking monologue. they'll stick to biting their tongue again. damon doesn't offer a toast, but their newly opened bottle clinks against finch's with a satisfying noise. they take a moment to continue, swallowing down a long drink. just for those melodramatics finch loved to point out.

" got into a fight right where we're sitting and you'll never guess when ... fucking murder night. halloween homicide. " tattooed hand with the bottle lifts to slice a finger across their own neck, " talk about bad timing, but looks like i've skeeved my way past the consequences of my actions. " their body leans just slightly closer. it isn't enough to breach personal space, but enough to prove attention is zeroed in on the younger man. beer released and rested on a coaster in favor of leaning against their own arms. " what kinda shit you been into lately, huh? "

*    ❪   🦇   ❫    ﹕ 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲'𝘀 𝗮   𝗰𝗹𝗮𝗽   𝗼𝗳   𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀   𝗼𝗻   𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻   𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗿   𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗱𝗲𝘀   in a job well done as   he worms  his way  through   the   crowd,   guitar   strapped   against   his   back   in   an   embellished   shield   for   the   A/C   that   threatens   to   dry   him   up   like   an   orange   peel.   metal   strings   are   splattered   with   the   blood   that   seeps   through   the   bandages   pasted   erratically   on   each   slim,   boney   digit.  ❛ what   the  fuck   are   you  even  chatting about ? ❜  he interjects, icy hues glancing over at the older man. a   familiar   face   that   usually   serves   to   spark   an   irritable   flame,   but   the   stench   of   violent   forthcomings   demands  attention from someone who relishes it,   letting   the   conversation   further   rather   than   die   out.   ❛ still   haven't   let   go of those   melodramatic   fucking   monologues. ❜    their   temper included.   it's what had kept the two tethered to one another. that and, other things.  finch's   gaze   roams   their physique,   seeking   out the   assumably   faded   ' F ' initial   that   marks   his   territory.  ❛ what'd   you   do,   d ? ❜    straight canines bare a lazy smile,   snatching   the   bottle   and   downing   it   in   one   parched   swig   before   tapping   it   against   the   island.  ❛ two more rox,   put   it   on   their   tab. ❜ 

despite being somewhat of public figure, nolan did not do well in crowds. less so since the riot. after spilling most of his first drink, he had made his way back to charlotte and played the gentleman by offering to get them drinks. he held both of them in his hand, though he was not yet ready to get back into the thick of it. spotting another wallflower, nolan scooted closer to her just in time to catch her remark. it made him chuckle. "giving yourself a pep talk?" he questioned, a gentle smile still lingering on their lips. "mind if i have one too?"

for: everyone. where: the sunset villa's beach party event. " this should be fun. " alyssa mumbled to herself and held the glass of her drink in her hands. taking a few quick sips from her drink. her eyes now began to scan around at the party. the music that was playing was so loud that it was blasting through her ears. the blonde was just standing here and waiting for a few more minutes before going around and mingling.

knowing the crowd would be too much for him to jump straight into, nolan grabbed a whiteclaw from the open bar and wandered along the coast. they stood looking out at the horizon, a few hundred yards away from the bustle of beach-goers. he contemplated chugging the drink in hopes of the alcohol to take a quick enough effect to make him ready to be social. he knew lottie would be wondering where he'd run off to, so he tried but the carbonated drink hurt his throat and his coughed up more than half of what he'd wanted to swallow. shaking off what'd splattered on him, nolan was horrified to see that someone had been witness to the whole thing. "looks like i retired the party animal too early." they tried to joke away the embarrassment. // @richardsonlouis

without any hesitation, nolan reaches for the shot. they thank adrian, giving him a mischievous look before they down it, this time not even bothering to clink the small glass with other's. the spirit lifts him up, makes him stand up straighter as a small shiver goes down his spine. already he feels it working with the previous one to loosen him up. despite the muscles packed on him, nolan is a bit of a lightweight since he doesn't drink often. though lately, he's been indulging more and more. for a moment, he considers if maybe adrian has used substances as a way to blur out reality in the same way nolan has been since coming home. it almost makes him laugh. what does adrian need to run away from? his life is perfect.

taking a quick look around, nolan doesn't see anyone who catches his eye so he turns his attention back to his company. without rhodes around, nolan isn't really sure how to engage with adrian, so he has to resort to small talk. "so.. how are things? saw you swiping earlier. have you met anyone out here yet that you think will be able to tame the beast?" even as he speaks, nolan can hear how cringey the last of his words are but the vodka has already soothed his nerves enough for him not to care too much.

he's perched on nolan's couch, swiping through tinder like he swipes through insta stories -- barely paying attention. every time 'it's a match!' appears on his screen, he copy pastes and sends the exact same message: you're too fucking cute. going out tonight?

nolan's voice eventually pulls him out of his trance; a slow grin spreads over his features, visibly buzzed from pregaming at the yacht club since 2 pm. "aww, just tell me you missed me." adrian sure did; he enjoys their occasional hangouts, might even give him the drunk, sappy 'i love you, man' speech in the bathrooms of whatever establishment they end up at.

"to boy's night." he smirks, holding up the mini bottle of grey goose (or what's left of it anyway, because nolan sure took his sweet time).

--

they go to adrian's favorite club; he's chummy with the bouncer who lets them straight in, the dirty looks from the rest of the line only fueling his power trip. inside, he orders three shots, downs one by himself before bringing the other two back to nolan, "you've got some catching up to do."

     "there's no other reason for me to come if you're not here," nolan replied, his tone flat despite the compliment. he didn't exactly like coming to bars on weeknights, but since returning home, there was little keeping him occupied enough not to wander in. he followed him in, taking a seat at the bar and giving his order to the other bartender. "how long have you been working here?" nolan begins once knox appears to have settled in. small talk could help the evening pass along more swiftly, right?

open starter @ the beach ( coral cove )

caloused digits wrap around the metal door of his jeep as he then pushes it shut , curiousity making his eyebrows raise as he spots the other waiting by the bars entrance . " y'know the bars always open , right ? you dont gotta wait for me to show up for work to go inside . "

It had been such a long time since Cooper had seen Brooklyn. The last time he'd seen her the man made a complete fool of himself. There was no happy medium when the forty year old was wasted beyond compare. He was either a sloppy, emotional mess or he was a hot-headed asshole. Sadly for Brooklyn that day, the man was a sloppy, emotional mess. The man tried to avoid her ever since. Trying to stay as quiet as possible to not say anything else even more stupid, Cooper nodded his head "You look beautiful." Was all he could say because it was the truth. He was surrounded by beautiful women in New York. Clearing his throat, Cooper folded his arms across his chest and nodded his head "It's alright. Last night I got stupid drunk and have had a massive headache all day. " Bitting his lips out of habit, Cooper continued with "Anyone I need to beat up for you? Cause you know I will." He said honestly but then nodded once more "A drink. But uh.... don't let me get the way I did last time."

Location: Gala Status: Closed @coopereliashawkins

"Fancy seeing you here." she hummed as she approached Cooper. " hope your night has been progressing better than mine." She was over the public interaction. She wanted nothing more than to head home. "A drink?"

closed stater for: @wickcdmind

location: memorial gala // the suites

The man was plastered beyond compare. He wasn't a Detective anymore, there were was no God damn need to worry about getting caught on the job. He was at a party and Cooper was there to party. Usually a loaner, being apart of the Jade Menaces helped him in the aspect of coming out of his fucked up shell that childhood traumas had created for him. He had somehow met Frankie. Wasn't sure if it was a good thing. She was a Syndicate and he was a Jade Menaces. It was messy, they were messy, he was messy. Cooper took a deep breath and downed the rest of his alcohol and knocked on her door "Frank. Frankie open up. It's me." He said for a moment and then continued with "Hope youre in somethin decent... or not."

closed starter for: @sanctimoniicus

location: memorial gala // the suites

Cooper wanted nothing more than to get beyond wasted. This week needed to be over and it needed to be the weekend already. Shitty news from back home that somehow got back to him. He only talked to his mother and little sister but barley. His parents were getting an award and a street named after them and the mayor of Southport in North Carolina wanted the whole family there. The whole family, that meant Cooper. Cooper had to go and he just simply did not want too. Simply could not go. Thank god there was free booze tonight because Cooper was plastered. He was walking up to his room to drink himself to sleep when Cooper saw who was coming "What the fuck are you looking at? Leave me fuckin be and let me drink my free fuckin booze." Cooper spat at Remington and then shook his head "What do you want? I'm not on the fuckin clock." Cooper shrugged and looked down at the ground for a moment then continued with "What do you want Bishop?"

─ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ wings drenched in longing unfold at last

─ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ credits ; 🥂 , 🎆 , 🥃 , 🥂 , 🎆 , 🥃

just because you said the magic word anon~✨

~~~

~Yandere 2P!Allies x Country!Reader~

-2p China-

You first caught Xiaos attention by giving a speech at one of the meetings that he rarely ever attended.

But this time he was glad he went to the stupid meeting. Just to see your eyes flare with passion and with such purpose that the drugs in his system couldn't even block it out.

It felt like the first time he tried drugs, the feeling of losing yourself under its control, though it dulled over time the more he took it which led him to looking for more harder drugs, which too, dulled over time.

But you, you had awoken that feeling of it back inside of him which he thought he had lost long ago.

It was something he couldn't lose, he had to must get more of it.

Just like if you give a racoon food,

it's going to come back for more.

~~~

~2p Russia~

You first met the intimating Russian was when your two countries were doing a public announcement that the two of you had to attend.

Something about having y'all be side by side while your bosses sign papers was to show how close y'all were supposed to be.

Politics politics politics...

He had been through these type of meetings before with many different countries, it wasn't that important to him, still, it was majorly just to look nice and pretty for everyone to see.

Making a few adjustments to his outfit outside the doors waiting for you, (even pondering if you were even going to show up once) but when he saw you in your best outfit walking to see him, all his thoughts vanished.

Something about you had made him stop momentarily before he regained himself (though with his resting bitch face it was hard to tell on your part) to properly greet You.

He had a habit of judging people when he first met them, seeing if they were worth his time to talk too, but when he looked at you he couldn't tell what made you so special to him. It almost scared him.

maybe this meeting wasn't going to be as dreedful as he had thought.

~~~

~2p France~

Let's just say when you first met the Louise, it wasn't in the most ideal place.

Not behind a Building smoking a cigarette, trying to calm your nerves before a meeting.

When you threw open the back door and hitting a certain Frenchman causing him to drop his own cigarette, you knew you were screwed.

When you were about to get cursed out in French you quickly apologized even going as far to try to not get even more beat up as you thought you were, by trying to say sorry in French.

He just kept staring down at you with a blank exspression as you quickly excused yourself to go to the meeting. You felt like you were going to accend when he walked into the meeting and sat right next to you, just your luck.

Afterwards you went back behind the building (making sure to not hit anymore) to see that you were alone, much to your relief. It wasn't until your back got smacked by the door did someone join you saying "Thats payback for earlier.."

Softly you chuckled and offered him a cigarette saying "Even?" Which he let a sign out but took one.

As the two of you just sat in the ally in silence when he casually looked over at you, feeling a tiny bit irritated that you were still nice to him even after he purposefully smacked the door with you and even went as far to offer him a cigarette.

it confused him to find a genuinely nice person.

And as you went back inside, leaving him, he couldn't help but feel like he wanted it for himself...

and only for himself.

~~~

~2p England~

oooohhhhh boy did you mess up-

So stupid for you to procrastinate on delivering papers, now you gotta act like a delivery boy today, running around with a stack of papers and putting them in their correct place.

Didn't make things better when you ran straight into someone, causing all your papers to fly

e v e r w h e r e

Not even adding onto the fact that the dish of cookies that the brightly colored Brit was carrying got frosting and crumbs all over them.

Just your luck...

Trying to hastily gather all your papers and try to get the icing off some of them(more like smudge it into the papers more), you didnt notice how the Brit was so close to you before you looked up, staring right into his colorful eyes.

"You have a bit of frosting on your cheek poppet!" Wiping it away with his hand.

The odd gesture left you feeling a bit touched but you couldn't stall, you still had to get the papers delivered.

Excusing yourself you quickly got up and continued on your way, making it a point to repay him later and to be more mindful of who's around the corner.

Oliver continued to stare at you as you left, the feeling of Butterfly's in his stomach being replaced with a stinging pain with seeing you disappear behind a corner.

He made it a point to see you again,

he just had to.

~~~

~2p America~

You had decided to go to one of the local bars to celebrate your countries Independence Day.

The whole city was booming with fireworks, dancing, and of course, drinking.

It was a day that you looked forward to for the whole year, a day filled with joy and being proud of what you represented.

It felt nice to unwind for day (since it was a national holiday your boss let you have the day off), you sorta lost yourself when you started dancing to the music that was blasting in the streets, merging in with all the drunks as fireworks lit up the sky.

What happened next happened so quickly that it took your drunken mind a minute to process.

You had tripped over yourself bumping into a stranger, and if it hadn't been for them catching you, you would have hit the hard pavement of the road.

"I've seen you've fallen for me, dollface!"

Was all the stranger said with looking at your confused and drunken face. All you could do then was just burst out laughing as the two of you started dancing together.

It was then that Allen knew he had fallen for you, your laugh. It was like nothing he had ever heard before, and it was the only thing he wanted to hear!

He only wanted to see you happy from that day onwards.

He would do anything to just see you smile and laugh.

~~~

✨hope you like it anon!

"Thank you," Leyla replied, still beaming. It was maybe her favorite thing about the business she decided to open: the creativity. She hadn't previously considered herself a very creative person, but this had brought beautiful new challenges. "Easy peasy," she laughed. "Oh, blue curaçao is a liqueur, the syrup substitutes for that to make it non-alcoholic, so you'd just take out that syrup and add the liqueur. Voila, mocktail becomes cocktail." She believed in their being a time for everything, so she didn't have any problem making the suggestion. Especially since the woman did confirm she'd also like to check her place out. "I would love to have you stop by. I offer flight options as well, so you can sample a bit of different things. I can pick out my prettiest ones for you. We'll eventually have some live music nights too, so that'll be something to come enjoy."

"Well, I have to say this is probably the most beautiful drink I've ever seen." Ryn admitted, taking a look at it, trying to really get an idea for how beautiful the drink was. "Oh that's some simple stuff that people just have laying around a lot anyways." she smiled. "It looks delicious. In the chance someone wanted the alcoholic version, what would you suggest they put int it? Though, you did such a good job I may have to just come down to Mawk Tales a lot and get some of these."

Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music played out of doors, played by somebody I do not know.

John Keats (via ruedamour)

Lighting new cigarettes, pouring more drinks. It has been a beautiful fight. Still is.

Charles Bukowski  (via jungminhee)

And these are my vices: impatience, bad temper, wine, the more than occasional cigarette, an almost unquenchable thirst to be kissed. a hunger that isn’t hunger but something like fear…

Cecilia Woloch, from “Fireflies,” Carpathia (via lifeinpoetry)

                       he can’t outrun the sentiments that poison his body.                                they make him sick, vulnerable, w e a k.                                             they rot him inside-out.

                                                              ( && ) 

                          how do you heal from such internal damage?                                         in reality, he knows he can’t.                           ——— but there’s no way he’ll be eaten alive by                                                  his own conscience.

                                         he resorts to drugs, to alcohol.                                 to the numbness it gives him no matter                                                     how temporary. 

Mary Shelley (2018) Directed by Haifaa al-Mansour