Melancholy Melody

Jacob knew through his foggy incoherent mind that he was past his limit, past the point where he made sense or could think in full sentences. He didn’t often get blackout drunk, at least not as much as he once had. But things had been especially tough recently. Somebody should have cut him off about three rounds ago but as long as Jacob was willing to pay, the alcohol supply kept on coming. He ordered another drink, this time opting for beer, having some sense to slow it down a little. He couldn’t hold back his drunken giggle, resisting the urge to facepalm as his words came out all jumbled and in the wrong order. Subtlety wasn’t his forte, clearly. ‘Okay, okay, okay.’ He pointed his finger in the air as if he was about to make a point. 'I might be a little bit drunk. Jus’ a lil bit.’ With his body leaning heavily against the bar, his head lolled to one side across his folded arms — he wasn’t fooling anyone. Not even himself.

He doesn’t have the usual douche bar guy vibe about him. His giggles are disarming, they make her relax a little, sipping at her mojito and letting out a laugh of her own. “It’s okay....you haven’t gotten sloppy drunk yet and that’s all that really matters. It’s when you start throwing up all over the bar that people start to get super annoyed with you, and I may or may not be speaking from personal experience.”  She’s drained the last from her glass, looking at his own beverage with curiosity, and then carefully staggering from her barstool to the one directly next to him. “Okay....OKAY...I’ve decided we are drinking buddies tonight. What’s that and is it going to attempt to erode my esophagus on the way down? I mean I’m gonna have some no matter the answer, but just so I can prepare.”

–

Even as she said it, Damien couldn’t help but chuckle at the inaccuracy. In truth, it was a rarity that he got too invested in a conversation. Building things up online wasn’t exactly his vibe, but every blue moon provided just enough of an image for the spank bank to get him by. Of all things, this was absolutely not worth, totally putting off the work they’d been doing on their song, but he’d have been lying if he said he didn’t get the slightest bit of satisfaction at the banter it earned him. He liked that he didn’t have to work to hard to have his attention earned, even if it was work related. “Melody, my heart doesn’t wear a watch.” He said simply as he slipped his phone into his back pocket and leaned in a little closer than necessary to watch the way her pen crossed the sheet, and read over the lines she was suggesting removing. “You’re sounding like a bit of an expert at this aren’t you? So if we’re leaving off here with a question, what do you think we need to have to fill the space? A little autistic solo? Some totally authentic harmonizing? What are we thinking?” He inquired, tilting his head as he picked up his own pen and made a point to draw a tiny heart on the page with a sad face in it. “Let’s try it out. Show me how you think this is supposed to sound.” Damien encouraged as he moved to pick up the guitar sitting in the corner of the room. “Bring our baby to life here.” 

Melody let out a derisive snort. “If any part of your wore a watch...my goodness would catastrophes might be avoided.” Her voice is teasing, light, Damien is good to her. Welcomed her into a world she hadn’t thought she wanted to be a part of in any fashion. There were things she’d learned growing up with musicians for parents obviously, but Damien was filling in the holes more directly, teaching her how to have confidence as a lyricist, as a performer. She owed him more than she could ever repay and he could zone out on his phone a hundred times a session and that wouldn’t make a dent in what he’d given her. She’s nervously chewing on her lower lip as he looks over the notes she’s made. Mel shakes her head, it’s an inside joke she supposes, the way he pretends to be surprised or taken aback, pretends she’s a green leaf with no prior ties to this world. And honestly, she appreciates it, that he’s allowing her to build her own link to the music. “The last word is an echo. I sing it...we add a little reverb in the mic, some soft guitar chords, maybe a hint of orchestral too, light though, real light, like words on the tip of your tongue, close but not too close.” She sings out the word, once, twice, her fingers dancing a rhythm against her knee. “And then you come in on the third and fourth repetition and harmonize, and we fade into the guitar and the orchestral, it takes over us and then leads us into the chorus again.”

“Marshmallow puff jacket?” He posed the image alone let a lot be be desired. Trying to imagine his sister in something like that. She would kill him before she even pulled the monstrosity out of the box. Davut chuckled giving the other nod of his head. “ Yes well, I figure that designer was the best way to go.” Sighing he eyed the olive coat again. It would be good with her skin tone and their dark hair.Maybe she wouldn’t be too upset that he went with this color. He would have bought both of them: but for some reason that seemed a little bit over kill. He had already volunteered to help cook; that was two gifts in one.

Placing the other jacket back on the rack he smile towards the other. “Did you tear him a new one or did you let him get away with giving you the marshmallow jacket?” Laughing good natured , “ I could use the brownie points, just so I can carry them over to the new year. Are you shopping for yourself or for someone else ?”

“It’s as bad as it sounds,” she answered with a chuckle. It was easier to laugh at things in hindsight, even though it came with a small twinge of sorrow. She didn’t think she’d be seeing her brother this year, they’d lost track of most of their extended family who had always felt like strangers anyway. There was no one to spend the holidays with, and she was trying not to sink into that knowledge and let it consume her.  “I didn’t tear him a new one directly, but I did decide to keep the switch I’d intended to buy him for myself and gave him snuggie instead.” She gives the male a wickedly amused grin, thinking he’d share her humor and sense of justice being served.

“Oh, this is for someone else,” she answered, looking down at the jacket. “I’m not intending to go anywhere I’d need a coat like this anytime soon, but I have an old friend in Philly and she’s been due a new coat for years. I don’t know why we’re so bad at that...spending on ourselves.”

closed | @melodybarnesrp​ loc. worth a shot

Jacob wasn’t new to using alcohol to cope. He couldn’t even remember how long he’d been here or how many drinks in he was, all he knew was that the alcohol no longer burned as it slid down his throat. He no longer winced as he raised the shot glass to his lips. He welcomed the sweet release that emptied his head of all the bad thoughts that had been swimming around for the last few weeks. He knew he probably shouldn’t be leaning back into alcohol to cope, that he should probably book himself back into therapy but wasn’t in the right state of mind to make those kind of decisions. He half slipped out of his bar stool as he leant heavily against the bar, raising his hand in the air. ‘Anuva, please.’ He slurred his words. Tilting his head, he could just make out a blurred and swaying figure besides him. ‘I’m not as think as you drunk I am. Wait—— let me try that again.’ 

Mel didn’t like to get drunk drunk. That gripping the toilet, where’s your hair holding friend, what embarrassing piece of personal information did I just tell you, drunk.  She liked just enough of a fall down the rabbit hole that her face started to tingle, she felt loose and and like her anxious energy made sense. She was just starting to hit that zone now, cheeks warm and pink, her posture sinking towards the bartop as she rested her head against her arms and turned her face towards the other man. “Oh no no no , sir, I think you made your point. Couldn’t have been more perfectly made if you had whipped out a power point.” She grins, giddy and warm and head growing just the right amount of empty. “I’m also not as think as you drunk I am.”

There were so many brands and shops that Camila had left behind during her move across the world. If she closed her eyes, she could still smell the wood and marble when she came in from the drizzling streets of London. Oh, Camila would so miss the city that was entirely her home. Yet, her divorce haunted her and the tabloids there were another beast. America was only vaguely familiar with her fine jewelry brand and this city a friend of hers suggested was one that could offer a chance to let her proverbial hair down. Retail therapy was of course a must for Camila. Indeed, she did not always need a reason to do so. Yet, today she was utterly fascinated with finding the American coastal looks that were different than London fashion. Two cardigans with different patterns were her sole focus at the moment. It was entirely too hard to choose and Camila entertained the thought of simply getting both. A voice behind her chimed in as if they could read her debating thought. Camila turned with a sheepish smile. “Was I too obvious in my debate?” She inquired and set the blue sweater back to hold on to the suggested gray one.

“I don’t know if you were obvious or if I’ve just been in the position so many times myself I know it like the back of my hand,” she answered with a light chuckle. She’s not normally a strike up conversation with a stranger type, except in this scenario. Fashion is safe, it’s helpful, it’s this moment of bonding over an understanding that clothing impacts how you feel. Melody has decided on the jacket she’d been looking at, stepping away from the mirror and meandering closer to the other woman.  “But yes...this...will look amazing on you. God I’m such a sucker for  a good sweater you can dress up or dress down.” It makes her nostalgic for a second. She has this intense memory of pulling one of her mother’s sweaters out of the closet, how it fit her like a dress at the time, how her mother came in and said sweaters were meant to be lived and loved in. “You could always get them both though. Blue and gray.”

  “Oh yeah,  they can make anything with alcohol. They did make alcohol ice cream, had it the last time I was in L.A, definitely say try it if you ever get around there.” Nodding again with a smile, “Jesus, they’ve got chocolate, gummy bears - worms, twizzlers… kind of like the CBD stuff.” Her head tilting side to side with the list. “Oh.. here? I don’t work here, but I do like their sour stuff.”

“Oh...oh shit, I’m sorry. Here I go making an ass out of you and me cause I assumed.” Melody let out a groan, shaking her head. “You have a really nice, approachable salesperson vibe about you. I mean that as a compliment.” She tucks the alcoholic ice cream away for later researching because that sounds fucking amazing on the nights she doesn’t want to look like a lush. Not that being a lush is a bad thing in this town. “What’s your favorite? Like between chocolate or gummy bears, what would recommend?”

Turning towards the voice, Davut grinned. Holding up an olive green coat in one hand and a burgundy coat in the other. “ You think so? I’m not a fan of green myself. But it’s the cut for me, I’m not really going for the hour glass look.” Pulling both women’s coats away from the rack for her to see in full. “ Early Christmas shopping for my twin sister.  I do think you are right about the olive one making her eyes look nice. But I’ve always been partial to the color red myself.” He wasn’t any good at buying presents. Which was why more often than not; Davut gave her money and gift cards. This year however, he’d been challenge to put forth some effort. Fast forward to him meandering around the women’s department looking for a nice winter coat. Maybe a little practical but at least it was designer. She’d liked that, wouldn’t she?

 “ I’m probably going to fail miserably so wish me luck.” 

Ah he was shopping for family. She pursed her lips as she turned, trying not to smile with pity. Melody had a tendency to take pity when she found fathers and romantic partners wandering through the woman’s clothes racks looking on the verge of tears. Not that this guy did. No he looked slightly perplexed but calm. “I don’t think you’ll earn the fiery wrath of hell with either of them. They’ll both be flattering especially if she’s got dark hair like yours. My gut says go with the olive though.” Her head canted back slightly as she let out a laugh. Ah, maybe he wasn’t so composed after all. “Listen, it’s not a weird faded off blue marshamallow puff jacket from Target, which is something my big brother once got me. It’s designer, even if it’s not her favorite style it’s a style, and that will earn you brownie points, my good Sir.”

  Fair she thought but kept her mouth shut, opting for a little nod instead. Supposing it was easily on the others ears anyway. “How I feel about alcoholic candy.” Not that they were the same thing but Piper attempted in her own way to relate. “Can’t argue there, find it helps with a lot more than that too.” She was below average in talking to strangers in such a situation. An odd nervousness crept up on the boss, professional is casual, casual is confusing. “Actually there’s none left of the kind of edibles I like, might leave empty handed on that end.”

“Alcoholic candy? Is...is that a thing? I’m picturing like a starburst infused with vodka. I mean my gran used to make these bourban chocolate ball things for Christmas but do they make other kinds of alcoholic candy?” She’s very easily distracted off topic in situations like these, a nervous rambler who prefers to ask questions to avoid having to answer any about herself. “Ah well, can’t always be lucky. What’s your favorite thing that you do have in stock?”

Amelia has a date tonight. While the goal is to rob the male blind, she’s more annoyed that he suggested she wear something casual. Amelia wasn’t entirely sure what that meant as most of her outfits were worn to show off her assets in order to lure in men who felt like they had enough to capture her attention. Most often, it was money that she wanted from them and they paid her before she blackmailed them for more. Peering over her shoulder as she eyed the other, a small smile came to her face. “Thanks. Does it look casual?” She asked as she turned to face the other. “I like that on you. I think you should get it.”

“It says ‘I’m casual enough but I want to make sure you get a hit of the dramatic fierce badass I am,’ and that is a look we should all aspire to be able to carry.” Melody turned to give the woman her full attention. There’s an automatic sisterhood that comes with talking clothes, the pressures of fashion in a world that was made to give conflicting messages. Be sexy but not too sexy. Be bold but not too flashy. Be sophisticated but not prudish. She smooths her hands down the sides of the jacket and grins at the return compliment. “I think you’re right. And oof when I pair this baby with some skinny jeans and my knee high black boots I’ll look like I could kill a man and get away with it.”

–

Damien hadn’t meant to have been staring at his phone for quite as long as he had been. He was normally better about it when it came to the music, especially a song he’d been really passionate about. He felt like he was at that stage of progress where you feel like you’re so close to it you don’t feel like you’re moving anywhere. Which was also right around the time he was let himself get distracted aimlessly swiping on Tinder. Enter the necessity for band mates or lord knows he was never going to get anything done. At first he hadn’t been sure how he felt about the idea of writing with someone else. He’d never done it. But the more he works with Melody there was a degree of the easier it became. “Right yes definitely. Shortening the bridge. So what part of it does that mean we’re taking out?” He asked, as he tried to slide his phone into his back pocket as if to pretend that wasn’t what he was doing. “And for your information, it wasn’t sexting. It was finessing. There’s a big difference.” 

This is a first for them both, trying to plug their creative wires into the same outlet, build blueprints together. There are awkward moments, but they’re starting to develop a rhythm, and there’s some part of Melody that likes reaching out and pulling him back into the music till he is as lost in it as she is. A derisive snort meets his words. “Finessing. Okay, wordsmith. Potaaato, potaaaahto and all that jazz. Save it for after we finish this song.” It wasn’t that she wanted to be a killjoy. Though she got plenty of feedback from others that she needed to get laid more. Needed a little finessing. Clearing her throat, she scoots closer to Damien, bottom of her pain trailing along the words she wants to cut. “I think it could be cool if we take these last two lines out and leave it as a question. It shows how...love makes us stupid right. So stupid that we stop in the bridge to ask a question we’ve been dictating the answer to in all the above verses.” Even as she’s speaking she can’t be perfectly still, the tip of her right shoe tap tapping against air, her fingertips worrying against the pencap. Stillness is the enemy. Stillness is entropy. She hasn’t been able to relax in seven years.

@indulgencerpgstarters​

 She bit her inner cheek trying not to laugh at the girls statement, obviously she had a sensitive ear today. “Sorry,” She said softly with a small smile. “Heard bloody Marys help too. Not that I know for sure.” The bit of advice felt stupid to give since she didn’t actually know it herself. “Oh um – yeah nope just a nagging mother. But that doesn’t seem like the convo you want to have when getting food or drink.”

“Not for me personally,” she answered, shaking her head. “Liquored vegetable juice makes my stomach upset.” She grins, leaning against the counter a little. “Now a little bit of mary jane though, that chills my hangover right the fuck out.” No, no it had not been a conversation she wanted to have while getting food or drink. But then she was good at tuning people out when she needed to. “Is all your stuff here for smoking or do you have edibles too? I’m kinda jonesing for both.”

vulcan can indeed observe how heavy it was raining outside ever since he woke up, and he was almost tempted to stay in bed with his wife, though he knew he had to finish a few things in the some and maybe he can head back home early and spend the rest of the day with eevee. the mechanic looks at the woman with concern evident on his face with how drenched she is because of the rain. “i can take a look at it? where’s your car?” he immediately waves off the offers the woman was already spewing out. “we can talk about that later–and tire change for me’s not much of a bother.”

“It’s across the street in the Walmart parking lot,” she admitted sheepishly. “I got the new tire on and made it like two parking rows over and realized something felt wrong. I think I lose a screw or something.” Her dad always swore he’d teach her how to do it when she was older, so much for that. “Really?” She could have cried with gratitude, but didn’t want to be a weepy weirdo. “Thank you so much, I appreciate it more than you can even comprehend. I tried to do it myself, like the effort was there.”

Thought has had her chewing on the inside of her cheek so hard it suddenly hurts. “Okay.” She taps the edge of her pen against her notebook. “Okay, I feel like we need to shorten the bridge on this a little. Cut the lyrics back a tad and leave more room for the music to pour out...give the song that atmosphere that the music is a wave washing over you, taking over everything. What do you think?” It wasn’t unusual for Damien to zone out during a writing session, but he’d been quiet for far too long. Melody’s brows furrowed with both annoyance and interest as she caught him on his phone. “I swear to god Damien...you better not be sexting in the middle of a writing session. I ask so little of you, Sir.”