kurt cobain's wet dream

you: from what?

@inroman: @badlymilligan actually delete this whole thread for me

@badlymilligan: @inroman roman are you the manufacturer of the latest craze, beef kegs?

Colette: i wasn't aware that i switched my major to armchair psychology and tv show hosting

Bradley: i filed the papers

@badlymilligan: @pearlw can't believe we have a gerard way spying from the bushes watching us in lingerie again. do the cinnamon challenge one time with a particularly pale spice and all of a sudden acne prone thumb is licking his nib and scribbling in his diary "paul winters. coke addict."

Arabella silently sat there, her eyes following each of Bradley’s movements as she was unsure what to do with the cigarette that she held between her fingers. “Are you okay?” Bella asked Bradley, she didn’t look all too good but how could she know that for sure? Arabella’s head tilted to the side, examining the thin powder on the table. “How to hell is that not different from a cup of coffee?” She didn’t even like coffee that much, the only times she’d drink that disgusting, puke worthy stuff they’d call a delicious drink, was when she stayed up late to study. 

“Am I okay?” A dead laugh passed her lips, student ID cutting a train track to Neverland from pale white powder. “That’s like asking if Jesus wore sandals. Relax, I’m fine.” Abandoning the plastic, she plucked a hundred dollar bill being waggled nearby and started rolling it into a tight cylinder. “Makes things brighter. Smoother. It’s practically caffeine.” Stooping over the fuck you to her essay deadlines, Bradley cleared the first of the three stripes and swallowed against the bitter backdrop once she’d straightened. “There,” she exhaled, dusting at her nose like a Desperate Housewife fussing over her mantelpiece. “Chill out, yours is practically baby sized. Anyway, first one’s free.” The note got pressed into the stoop of her palm as Bradley tugged her cigarette back, hanging it from her lips as her pupils darted to the table in encouragement.

Piper smiled small. “Yeah, I do actually.” She paused for a moment. “He was an ex.” With a slight shrug, she tried to play it off as nothing. “It was a few years back, nothing too serious.” With a laugh, she continued. “High school fling, really.” Piper was down playing it because she wasn’t sure how the other would react. Also, Piper wasn’t going to bring anything up about why she was at Atticus in the first place. Nothing like a great first impression.

Bradley’s smile became a fraction tighter on her lips. It seemed odd that she felt such a need to downplay the situation when Bradley hadn’t even asked anything of it in the first place. “High school?” Wedging her cigarette in her mouth, she propped herself to rest against the adjourning brick wall so she could gain some shade from the invasive sunlight. “And you’re both here now all the way from Chicago? What a small world.” Her Marlboro came to dangle between her fingers at her side again. “Haven’t seen you around before.”

@inroman: @badlymilligan if we want to tear down the small dick complex, misogynistic establishment we'd need to poison the only thing frat boys live off of: beef kegs

@badlymilligan: @inroman beef kegs

Piper’s eyebrows raised. She had never encountered someone that was quite like the other. At the mention of her name, Piper put two and two together. She was the Bradley that Max had mentioned. Piper wondered what had all changed from the years that she had not been in contact with Max. “Bradley. Max’s girlfriend?” Piper tried to smile at the girl, but she couldn’t deny the tension. The first thought in her mind went to Max being the one that dragged her from the ball, but it couldn’t have been. “I actually didn’t see. I’m sorry.” Was all she managed to say. 

“Yeah. My formal title,” Bradley scoffed, tugging her cigarette down to inspect the end and later flick a cluster of ash free. “You know Max, then?” It felt like pulling teeth, forcing out the compulsory clump of small talk to pad out time until it was acceptable to make her way again. Her eyes stayed stuck on the smoke whistling out of her lips as she tried to remember where she’d even been headed to in the first place. Oxy had her cradled in a dream more often than reality lately. “Whatever. That’s life.”

Piper’s eyes rolled at Bradley’s comment. “Yeah, small eyes.” She repeated, pushing hair from her face, annoyance apparent with her expression. She watched the smoke from the cigarette flow out into the sky. Smoking wasn’t something Piper used to consume her free time and she wasn’t a fan of being around it either. She gave the girl a confused look. “I don’t take that class, sorry.” With a shrug, she continued. “And my name is Piper. You are?” She questioned.

“Oh,” Bradley said simply, boredom seeing her scuffing over a family of gravel with her big, black boot. A headache was already pecking at her skull given her hangover, bright, blaring light outside not doing anything at all to help matters. As a result, her temper was severely suffering. “Wow, introductions. Guess this is happening, then. Bradley.” A drag divided her sentence before she pressed on. “You probably saw me getting dragged out of the ball looking like a raw steak someone smacked with a mallet.”