#casqet

This was the last fight. When the bowl that Tyler had thrown just barely missed his head, he had grabbed his keys and left, pulling out of the driveway, thankful when he realized his phone and wallet were in his pocket. However, his charger was nowhere to be found and Ezra’s phone died about an hour into his drive after Tyler kept calling over and over. 

The rain starts to pour down as Ezra makes his way into a rural area, trees get closer and closer while buildings become fewer and farther between. Daylight is fading.

“Fuck...” he thinks as the truck breaks down. He looks around and sees a mailbox at the end of a long dirt road. “Fuck fuck fuck...” He thinks, turning off the truck. Maybe there’s somebody at the end of the dirt road who can at least call a tow truck for him. He goes into his glove box and pulls out the gun that he keeps there. He doesn’t know if there are coyotes or bears around, or if whoever’s at the end of the road is some kind of serial killer. 

His shoes get muddy and squish with each step he takes along the dirt road, his flashlight lighting the way, but just barely. He walks and walks, the rain soaking him through, but in the back of his mind, he still thinks it’s better than being at home with Tyler. 

Nathan’s drunk, drunker than he normally gets. There’d been some fuck up at work, something to do with higher management but of course, it’s the factory workers that take the brunt of it. So here he was, downing too many beers while the bartender’s wary look intensified with every drink. 

“You think they’ve raised the beer prices, I swear that Guinness was seven bucks- Oh, hello!” Nathan stops mid-sentence as he realizes the person next to him is rather attractive. Well, rather attractive in the sense that the stranger’s face is out of focus but they’ve got blonde hair and Nathan’s never not been attracted to blonde hair. “Aside from being attractive, what do you do for a living?” He says, trying to give his best crooked smile. Any appeal the pick up line might have had is negated by the fact that he slurs the end of his words and he smells atrociously like beer. In fact, if the stain on his knee is anything to go by, he’s even spilled some on himself though Nathan himself can’t remember the act. Still, his brain labels the attempt as a success and insists that he say some more. 

send me a ▲ & i will put our character’s names into this generator and write a starter based on the scenario that comes up! }{ accepting 

He’d been fairly lucky lately. The sky hadn’t opened up and absolutely drenched London during his walk between the station and his flat in, hmm, maybe a month? Jack, for one, thought umbrellas were stupid and refused to carry one with him. Instead he did the normal thing, which was head to the closest pub as quickly as possible and wait it out. 

Seemed everyone in the neighborhood had the same idea. The place was packed! Jack was only a second away from heading out into the storm when he spotted the one and only open seat in the whole establishment, set back in one of the quieter corners. 

       there was a sudden pandemonium from the hallway into ponzo’s bar and for a second, he braced himself - exchanging looks with the bouncer just to reassure if his help would be needed in such escalation of activity. but as he paid more attention to the swarm of people by the entrance, he realized there was no violence brewing out there but just a foreign celebrity obviously drawing people closer for random selfies and autographs.

  "On this unusually sunny day ..."

   Sometimes there were things that you wanted to get, but you could not get them for reasons that didn't depend on you. Online forums tells you that the first step towards Enlightenment is Acceptance, or Humility. But Ivakir Pokrai (25 years old, not married, but that will change soon, like, really soon) had a different opinion on this subject.

  "... as if nature itself is sending me a blessing to make such a serious step on the path we call Life..."

  It was not only that Ivakir didn't read the forums and didn't strive for the status of an Enlightened person, feeling quite comfortable at the bottom, among unenlightened people. Ivakir believed that if you wanted something, then you had to do everything to get it.

  "... I put my knee in front of you ask you: will you walk with me along the road of life, hand in hand, in happiness and in illness, to the very end?"

  Even if this was something like an ordinary cake, which was given out free to those couples who were planning to tie their lives with the chains of marriage.

  Ivakir found the perfect guy in a short time. The Ideal Guy was sitting in a cafe and did nothing, enjoyed his quiet existence, until Ivakir invaded his little world. Wearing colorful clothes and a strange make-up, the woman suddenly knelt down in front of him, quickly whispering: "Play along, bud, I want a free cake". In her hands she held a ring, which she literally had just taken off her finger. Even if their marriage last exactly until Ivakir received the cake, everything should be perfect. The ring, She, a beautiful bride; He, who looks... well, not bad - Women's Happiness forums say that this is what every woman in every corner of the world sees in her dreams and has been preparing for this all her life. Ivakir Pokrai saw a free cake in her dreams.

          Dr. Freeman offers no protest. Indeed, it almost seems at first as if he hasn’t heard the older man, but the moment passes, and he locks eyes with him, pensive and uneasy in the low light, suspended the wrong way up. He has heard, and he is uncertain‒‒‒‒   but all the same, he must recognize that there’s really no other way out.

          Would that he could simply pull himself free from the uncomfortably clingy, massive webbing that is stuck in shuddering swaths to his body, and has him dangling upside-down, all the blood rushing to his head making his face look unnaturally ruddy. Unfortunately, it’s not that easy, and he’s been left with no choice but to accept the help and hope that it doesn’t come with a price tag.

“Thanks,” Arelette groaned as she grabbed the bag of ice from the man’s hand and pressed it against her cheek. 

This was definitely not how the brunette had imagined her one night off was going to go. Just for one night, she’d like to avoid a fight, but here she was, sitting on the curb just outside the club with a stranger who was nice enough to grab the ice for her. She wasn’t nearly as fucked up as the person who had fought her, but she still took a couple good hits to the face. Her cheek was definitely going to bruise in the morning.

“I never caught your name, by the way,” she mentioned, extending her hand for the other to shake. “I’m Arelette. You can called me Arrie though.”