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@milesjsullivan

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corrine-thorneā:
Corrine was exhausted. Sheād just finished up at rehearsal and her babysitter had dropped the kids off to her, so it seemed that she couldnāt even catch a moment to herself to wind down from the day. Instead, she was stuck with two rambunctious children who wanted to go out for ice cream and see a movie, when she just wanted to go home and rest for a while. Despite the yelling and screaming coming from the kids wanting her to hurry up, sheād managed to change into her street clothes and shove her things in her duffel bag, slinging it over her shoulder.
As she left, Clara insisting that she be allowed to push Fritz in his stroller, Corrine watched closely as her two children walked ahead of her on the sidewalk, never wanting to stray too far behind in case Clara accidentally let go of the stroller. When the little girl turned a corner, she followed close enough behind to see her ram the stroller directly into someoneās legs. āClara!ā She closed the few paces that were between them, swatting the five year oldās hands away from the stroller and taking the handles in her own hands. āIām so sorry about that,ā She lifted her gaze and looked up at the person, an embarrassed smile on her lips. āAre you alright?ā
He had always carried a conflicting perception when it came to children; he had berated Clarissa for choosing not to bear her--their--child yet at the same time, he would not have known how to take care of it had she chosen to continue on with the process. He often preferred to avoid them, knowing well that he would not be able to gain any benefits from tricking a darn toddler but it was quite unfortunate that some of them seemed to possess an annoyingly large bout of adamancy, bothering adults who would rather be left alone or were enjoying themselves, like what he had been doing, a straw pinched between his lips whilst he savored his people-watching hobby.Ā
The stroller was enough to almost the aussie stiffen, eyes rolling when the caretaker, or mother, whatever, came into the picture to collect the wide-eyed child. The scolding was a bit amusing, but he was disappointed he wasnāt hearing any cries from them. It would have been irritating but also less anti-climatic.Ā āJesus Christ, get a better handle of your kid, lady. She couldāve run off into the bloody traffic.ā He sighed, shaking his head.Ā āIām fine. Just make sure it doesnāt happen again.āĀ
rustysilverā
Rusty faltered, taken aback by the smirk on the manās face and the way he seemed to be watching him, analysing his behaviour. He felt incredibly self conscious beneath his gaze and made an effort to stand straight, pushing his hair back from his face with shaking hands.Ā āWhatās- whatās up with me?ā He asked, confused by the question. A frown creased his brow and he realised his behaviour was likely making him look ten times more suspicious. In trying to appear less like an addict, he was only serving to appear more like one. Only he wasnāt entertaining the idea of a fix right now, he only wanted Nicotine. He felt a blush creep to his cheeks at the mention of his appearance. He was past looking ill and strung out, but that didnāt mean, on the odd occasion, he couldnāt resemble the mess he knew himself to be. He felt a brief spark of gratitude, glad that Matt wasnāt around to see him in such an unstable state. It was only now that the promise of a lighter was being held over his head that he realised how badly he was craving his pills, how badly he wanted to leave and do something incredibly stupid.Ā āIām fine.ā He insisted, sure he would feel better after a smoke.Ā āItās been a long day. I just- I really need a cigarette and I canāt find my lighter.āĀ
Oh. This was just perfect. His volatility was so damn flagrant that it didnāt require much more appraisal for the tall aussie to deduce that something heavy was encumbering him. What, why, and how, were fragments he was determined to decipher next. Miles was fairly infamous for his penchant to expose someoneās weaknesses and lay them bare, grotesque and tattered for the whole world to imbibe. He found a deep satisfaction in knowing what made people tick, allowing him to gain control once he had garnered that knowledge. From what he had perceived thus far, there was this robust sense of vulnerability emitting off of him--his eyes resembling his own when he started to run out of his alcoholic supplies, the richocheting gaze and trembling lips. Perhaps he was also struggling with an addiction? He wouldnāt be surprised, a majority of college-goers were affected by some sort of toxic dependence, anyway.Ā āYou sure? Youāre shaking--sweating, like you just ran your arse off for hours. Have to say Iām quite concerned. Are you on the run? Running away from something? Are we in danger?ā He was stalling, and stalling, and stalling; desiring to see his reaction as he pulled his lighter out of his pocket, in lieu of handing it to him, he twirled the metallic object around his fingers.Ā āMaybe you should go see a doctor. Iāll take you there if you like. Iām nice like that.ā The shark-like grin apparent, dangling whilst he spoke.Ā

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rustysilverā:
Rusty let out a sigh, pulling a carton of cigarettes from the pocket of his sherpa jacket with the desperation of a drowning man. Sometimes he enjoyed class, but when the lecturer was a stand-in, a dull old woman who clearly would much rather be at home drinking her body weight in brandy, his mind began to wander, his attention slipped, which had proven to almost always be dangerous. He hated dwelling on his past, hated allowing himself to daydream about the very last time he got high. But it happened, and here he was, standing in the street, missing the last hour of his lecture because he couldnāt sit in a silent room, bored to insanity, without apparently longing for his drugs. He began to search for his lighter, the need for Nicotine growing as each moment passed. But he couldnāt find it. It wasnāt in his pocket, and after a hurried rummage through his messenger bag, he concluded it wasnāt in there either.Ā āHey-ā He called, rushing to the nearest stranger who just happened to be walking by, feeling a little guilty for approaching them with obvious panic.Ā āPlease tell me you have a lighter-āĀ
Business had been a bit languid lately which, shouldnāt be too much of an issue when the crew was as financialy-packed as the aussieās was, but it became quite the hassle for someone who had grown a stalwart penchant for fucked-up thrills. There was no one he could mess around with, or some foolās wealth that he could squeeze out with his charm and when everything was dulled out as this, Miles often discovered himself wandering without a certain destination. Close to a lost man he was, expect he would never confess it with his tongue and teeth. Instead, he found his footseps dragging him out, eyes half-lidded by the lure of his own cigarette smoke. It was when he went for a second inhale that some bloke emerged all of the sudden, what seemed to be anxiety painting their face like a rumpled canvas, and an amused smirk was battling to etch on his stubbled countenance.Ā āCan I just ask the heckās up with you, first?ā He questioned, obvious he was trying to stall, to see what would happen.Ā āYouāre lookinā like youāre about to bloody pass out, mate.āĀ
mjjeongsā:
mj was sat outside of the crowded cafe, headphones covering one of his ears while he worked on his laptop, trying to find a decent beat before writing the lyrics for his next song, knowing he had to go to a writing camp at the end of the week for some unnamed artist and wanting to bring at least something to the table. his hand went over to the appetizer plate he had ordered earlier and he grabbed something off his plate without looking, popping it into his mouth before spitting it out onto his laptop,Ā āoh, fuck, gross, what the fuck,ā he said, grabbing a napkin and rubbing it against his tongue,Ā ādo you want these? i didnāt realize they were mushroom,ā he said with a disgusted look on his face.
āItās just mushroom, mate, calm down.ā He had been forced to share a table with this kid and he had never felt so irked in his entire life; sure, it might be quite hard to actually ruffle the aussieās feathers, but when he had been collided numerous times by a bunch of sloppy pricks his typically composed self couldĀ disintegrate even if only by a morsel. He hadnāt had his pint either all day, so he was pretty cranked up and now he wished he hadnāt craved so much for this horrendous piece of pizza and opted for his usual bar instead. He sighed, abandoning his glass of water and instead pulled out a flask from his jacket, chugging it down within seconds before he leaned back to study him, lazily.Ā āThereās a trashcan there. Just throw them away or something.āĀ

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nickiporterā:
Nicki wasnāt big into drinking, but when the other girls in her conservatory ordered shots, she couldnāt decline. She didnāt want to be the only one there sober and bored. She told herself it was experience, and that it would be good for her as an artist. She downed the shot and immediately felt sick from the taste. She looked to her friend.Ā āI have to pee.ā She walked away from the girls, ready to go vomit in the bathrooms. She ran into a person and someoneās drink got shoved, spilling onto her white shirt.Ā āAre you kidding me right now?ā
He wasnāt precisely intoxicated - yet - but he was beginning to taste the effects of alcohol surge throughout his torso and he felt much more at ease, having long yearned for the sensation all over again. The whole nice-bloke thing had felt futile lately, like he was just wasting time, the person he was pining for didnāt sound like sheād ever change her mind anyway, so why bother continuing? He could just play pretense if he saw her again, but actually stopping or even toning down to make himself appear convincing was becoming less and less appealing to him. Miles basked in the rave, its energy causing his fingers to tremble in anticipation. As he was about to swerve to refill his glass, although he still had about half in his cup, he felt something, or rather, someone, crash into him. He rose his eyebrows, more amused than anything else.Ā āYou bumped into me, sweetheart.ā A chuckle rolled off his tongue, watching her dampened shirt.Ā āYou look better like that.āĀ
No, no, and hmm how about no.
keegan-andersonā:
Cane wasnāt a party goer much anymore but in his younger days thatās all he would ever do. But now he would normally drown himself in liquor alone at a bar until the bartender would cut him off. Cane had heard about the underground rave amongst a couple of fellow bar goers. He figured that he might as well go, since he knew there was probably going to be drugs being sold there. His supply was low and he wanted something stronger than marijuana. He had eventually found out the address where the place was going to be located and made his way to it. He was already about six or so beers deep when he began his journey into the unforgiving night, but he was holding himself together as if he were sober. At least for now.Ā Ā
Cane eventually made his way into the rave and he was amazed with how well the place was put together in such a short notice of time it seemed. He was already having flashbacks of his high school and college days. It made him feel young again. It made him feel alive. Cane immediately made his way to the bar area. It was hard to push through the people. They seemed to be shoving him in all sorts of directions. It was starting to piss him off. He was so close to the bar but soon he felt someone collide into him which made him stagger back a bit.Ā āHey! Watch it. What are you fucking blind? Or delusional?ā His short temper was starting to show, he had to breath in and out to remain calm so he wouldnāt get thrown out of the party already. He was here for a reason. He just wanted some drugs and a few drinks, then he was going call an Uber and leave.Ā
An underground rave. How utterly ridiculous. The concept sounded quite juvenile to him; like a thing yanked out of some cheesy horrid flick, yet the alcohol-ridden portion of him couldnāt help itself but develop a sturdy attraction to the idea. Of course, he was still en route to perfecting his good guy facade, but it didnāt mean that he couldnāt a least venture and have a little bit of fun in the process. Miles carried this strong feeling that he would simply be amused by theĀ cataclysmic display of attendees roughening themselves among and with each other, but perhaps if he could score several bottles tonight then maybe he could come out satisfied as well. It had been a while afterall, he wanted to submerge himself within the one thing he adored the most.
On his way to the place, brimmed with foul odour and ghastly steps, the aussie collided with what appeared to be one of the people who didnāt seem to blend in whatsoever with the rest of the crowd--it wasnāt shocking, these bunches ran everywhere, attempting so desperately to just fit into the puzzle it was almost pathetic. Still, it earned a short-lived, but condescending, guffaw and he didnāt even bother concealing his humored expression.Ā āYou here to pick up your kid or something? Fuckinā chill down, yeah?ā A snicker glided through, both of his palms raised up.Ā āOr are you here to join the party? Be careful not to hurt your back.āĀ

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noah-stevensā:
āIn the mood for anything in particular?ā Noah asked curiously, as he positioned his own self and began to lift up the chair as soon as the other began to do so as well. Noah began to walk in the direction of where his apartment was. Luckily it wasnāt too far and it was only a couple of feet away from them.Ā āOh. Iām Noah by the way. I probably should have started off with an introduction. Forgive me, itās been a busy week with moving in and all and figuring out my route at the hospital.ā Noah probably shouldnāt have been talking as much as he was for carrying a heavy object but his nerves were getting the best of him and when he got nervous around new people, he tended to ramble a bunch.Ā
āNot exactly.ā He replied with an amicable smile; Jesus, this whole nice-guy facade could be quite taxing.Ā āA bar and a nice bottle of beer or two would be splendid enough for me. But Iām pretty much down for anything.ā Miles did his best to memorize as much as he could, the place, where his room was located, just incase he needed to return for some more good olā messing around, incase this one went seamlessly. So far, this bloke sounded quite warm to him, oblivious, to his delight.Ā āYou work at the hospital? Thatās pretty freaking interesting. In what department? I kind of wanted to be a surgeon when I was a kid. Iāve always wondered what itād feel like to be in the operating room, working with the best of the best.ā Dissecting bodies, but that would be a bit far-fetched, and he didnāt want to rouse suspicion yet.Ā āOh, and Iām Miles. Sullivan. I donāt live here, sadly. Just visiting a friend earlier. Nice to meet you, though, Noah.āĀ
qrpeddieā:
Eddie laughs. He knows people like him. TheĀ condescension stinks and heās hung with enough A listers to quite give them a run for their money. This person is nothing in comparison.Ā āYou would love to see that, wouldnāt you?ā He smirks. At least heās attractive looking. Worth Eddieās time for that. He sucks on the straw of his smoothie again, leaning back to watch him.Ā āWhat do you think? Maybe Iāve been watching you.ā His attitude would have suited the Hollywood scene so well. Arrogant but good looking.Ā āYeah, yeah. Iām taking a break. Gotta have to cool down after all that action. What are you doing here? Enjoying the show I hope?ā
āI would enjoy it, certainly.ā It wasnāt as though he had never come face-to-face with the actual thing before; heād had blood splattered on his hands and a corpse pinned underneath him with his mind barely affected by the whole thing. A tick of his eyebrow was Milesā initial response to the strangerās remark; was that an attempt to flirt with him? That seemed so sudden, but he knew how attractive he was that he could easily made people flock to him, no matter how disrespectful he had behaved. It was entertaining, to say at least, something heād never grow tired of. He could have many people worship him if he desired.Ā āWatching me? For what, exactly? Donāt leave me hanginā like that, buddy.ā He then proceeded by giving a nonchalant shrug, fingers itching along his growing stubble.Ā āTaking a break, like you are. See what this is all about. Everything seems - boring, Iām bored already. Sorry to break it to you.āĀ