Alcoholism Tw - Blog Posts
Azazel Hawthorn
HEY, i think i just saw AZAZEL HAWTHORN walking down the strip. stop by to catch up and you’ll learn the THIRTY-ONE YEAR OLD is working as a BIOTECHNOLOGIST and lives in STARGAZER VILLAS. given they are ECCENTRIC but BRUTAL, it’s likely that they ARE NOT a vampire. on the flipside, rumor has it that THEY HAVE BEEN MISSING FOR A WHILE AND CAME BACK CHANGED, TO WHISPERS OF WHAT COULD HAVE HAPPENED IN THEY’RE LONG ABSENCE, ONE SUCH RUMOR GUARDED ABOVE ALL OTHER, AN ILLNESS THEY KEEP TO THEMSELF. and it keeps them looking over their shoulder. i bet you can find them tearing up the dance floor to SURVIVOR by 2WEI and you’ll know why they’re called THE TORMENTED SOUL. ☾ .⭒˚ avan jogia. non-binary + he/they. bisexual + scorpio.
General Information
Full name: Azazel Vayu Hawthorn Reason or meaning of name: Azazel-Scapegoat Vayu-Air Hawthorn- Thorn Bush Nickname: Zaz/Zel/Hawthorn/(Insert none name-related nicknames here) Reason for nicknames: His names. Age: 31 How old does he/she appear: 25 Nationality: American. Religion: None. Place of birth: Jarbidge, Nevada The current living place: Las Vegas, Nevada Job title: Biotechnologist. Employing company: Income: That's no one's business but his. Socioeconomic status: That's no one's business but his. Is he or she married? No. Pets: Desert Lynx Cat (Caracal) -Female- Name: Moonshine, Permit: Acquired. Russian Tortoise -Male- Name: Jellybean. Green Iguana -Male- Name: Crackers. Irish wolfhound -Female- Name: Shadow. Mother tongue: American English. Birthday: November 22. Does he or she own a home? Yes. Clubs/Memberships: Math Club, Band (Thunderstorm Dreams: Back-Up Vocals/other), Robotics Club, History Club, Dance Club, Theater Club, Book Club, Chemistry Club, Occult Club, Dungeons and Dragons Club. Public perception of them: Introverted but welcome before his disappearance, unsettling and confused after he comes back. Plays a musical instrument?: Yes, his voice and oboe are on a near professional level. But practices in other instruments, with varying ability, mostly at the average skill. Plays a sport?: Yes, Golf/Tennis/Volleyball/Baseball/Skateboarding/Mixed Martial Arts/Soccer/Gymnastics. How he/she would spend a rainy day: Inside doing inside hobbies. Smokes: Yes. Drinks: Yes. Other drugs: Yes, which is a very recent development for him. What does the character like?
Museums Pop music Worms Parks Lakes Color: white Rock Cryptozoology Sheep Fantasy novels Singing Graphic novels Stamps Choreography Clay Photography Caves Monster movies Snakes Baths Insects Alcohol
What does the character dislike?
Mimes Open windows Baking Epic music Throwing knives Going outside Color: olive Planes Pool Clowns Poetry Statues Minimalism Listening to people talk
Background
Trigger Warnings For: Drug use, Fire, Alcoholism, Pregnancy, Death, Mental Illness, Violence, Serious Injury.
Like most stories begin, Azazel's started with his parents meeting. Sharada was visiting the States, all the way from India, when she met D'Arcy. It was one of the last stops on her journey through America, to hit spots in Nevada, noted for their 'beauty', one may say. As she had a hobby in photography, she had heard at one point of Jarbidge being one such sight of beauty. A few days into visiting the area, she met her future husband, and of course, they hit it off. They would start to date, with much difficulty, given her not being a Native to America. But, decided to marry, and soon Sharada had been living in Jarbidge with her new husband. Over time, having four children, and a fifth on the way in the years that followed. Life with her beloved husband was a simple one, but a cherished one for the couple. Who focused on their children and raised them partially in an off-grid lifestyle. Sharada would take on the task of homeschooling her children. while D'Arcy had focused on his job that often took him away from home for long periods of time.
For a little extra cash for the family, Sharada would work part-time as a photographer, and in doing so, their children rarely wanted for anything. They grew up living among nature and relying on themselves to find entertainment. But they were not raised entirely outside of society either. They often played outside with other children who lived in the county. When he could, D'Arcy would get time off to take his wife and children on trips to several places within the country and outside of it. Sharada would take these opportunities to make the trips not only fun, with her husband, but to also use many of them to teach her children. However, with their fifth child coming, these outside activities became less and less for Sharada as she prepared for her newest baby. It was nearing the last few months now before the newest addition to the family would be disrupting her sleep, and she couldn't be more excited.
While on a shopping trip near Las Vegas to get a few more odds and ends, her husband was working later that day and not being able to grab them on his commute back home, she put her four older children into her station wagon and off the family went. After picking up the odds and ends she needed, she noticed she had nearly run out of gas and made a small stop in the city at a gas station. On her way to the door, a younger man came bolting out of the gas station, hissing a 'watch it, lady' or some other such thing as he slammed the door into Sharada, sending her harshly to the ground. One of her children shouted after the man about him being rude, which he either didn't hear or ignored, as Sharada winced in sudden pain. The store clerk came running out, screaming at the man about having called the cops before noticing Sharada and asking if she was okay, before they both noticed her water had broken. Shocked, as she didn't think she had been hurt that badly, Sharada asked the man to call for an ambulance, frightened, of course. Then, as she waited for that, she called one of her husband's relatives to come get the children then her husband, informing him what had happened, and what was happening.
Within the next hours, things grew to be extremely traumatic for the family as their youngest would be born not breathing, and it took a concerning amount of time for the staff to get their baby to breathe. Sharada verbalizing this as she watched her baby be worked on only feet away. Before finally hearing Azazel cry, it was weak, but it was there, and it eased some of the stress. D'Arcy grabbed Sharada's hand, assuring her their child was going to be okay. She wasn't even allowed to hold him as he was rushed away to an incubator. She could see he was so much smaller than his older siblings, and that made her worry more. When she was finally able to see him, even rushing it. But agonized over the fact that she had to see him this way. Holding Azazel for the first time in her arms, however, made whatever anger and pain from how he came to be here disappear. But a pit had formed thinking that the circumstances of her youngest's birth were an omen of a future of bad luck, and suddenly she realized she was crying at the idea of it. Her tears dropping onto Azazel, she stared, hoping that this was just her mind overreacting.
After some time being monitored Azazel was finally allowed to come home, things were good from that point on. For a while. Azazel's first year after that had no issues. But about that time, while his mother was looking away and dealing with something for one of his older siblings, another of his siblings, younger than the other, placed marbles onto the tray of Azazel's high chair, resulting in his consuming some and choking on one. Sharada managed to pull the marble out, but he had to get the others he swallowed out, through other methods. The sibling who did this had all marbles banned from the house till they could be used properly as punishment, along with other discipline. Life returned to normal again. Azazel had been about four or five, just starting to form a very distinct personality for trouble. Whether by his own action or just circumstances and bad luck. He had a lot of accidents, trips, falls, scuffed knees, and small animal attacks from getting too close to the wild ones. But nothing serious until one day, climbing a tall tree with one of his older siblings. He wanted to prove he was the better climber. Only to, about 20 feet off the ground, have one of his feet slip off the side of a branch, sending him straight to the ground, hitting it hard enough to knock him unconscious and crack his skull open.
Every couple of years, something like that seemed to be happening to the youngest Hawthorn. Sharada noticed changes each one had done to her son, and felt useless watching, feeling as if there were something more at play. But again, she was overthinking things. As she had given up her religion and chose to live comfortably with her husband, both deciding to live without it, and let their children decide if they wanted to become religious on their own. But, still, old habits did die hard for her. She remembered tales, of Djinn, of other such spirits. Often she wondered if this bad luck Azazel had seemed to have around him was her fault, for rejecting her religion. Perhaps it was the same for husband, the spirits were conspiring to punish them, and they were targeting her child. The idea seemed too silly to her until one day. While driving home with a now seven-year-old Azazel, who had been sporting a broken arm after taking a harsh hit while playing a soccer game. Yet Azazel had just told her of it, 'I'm okay.' When he noticed her worried look at him. He was always okay. But she caught him, sometimes, not always. When he was not trying to brave the pain. Why, she could not help, such a sweet, strong child, would be cursed by any 'angry spirits' was beyond her. Again, it was silly, and she had to stop thinking it was anything to do with 'spirits' or the like.
Azazel was chatting up his parents on this car ride home from his latest check-up on his broken arm. He had been yapping about monsters and musing about drawing one of his own. Or, well, painting. He enjoyed that much more than drawing. Though he was not good at it yet, he wasn't too bad. Azazel paused long enough to ask his dad, as he usually did, about his indigenous ancestry, specifically asking about monsters. His father, who was only half-blood and partially Germanic, commented that the last time he told him stories of such things, Azazel was scared for a week, thinking one was in his closet. Which Azazel giggled, commenting back that he wasn't afraid anymore! But before the conversation could carry on, his father noticed a truck driver driving strangely behind them. Azazel looked through his window to see what was going on, only to see the truck suddenly turned into the back of their car, sending it sliding to one side before it caught, and flipped onto its side. Sliding across the road, metal scraping against asphalt was the last thing Azazel heard before everything went dark.
Though he was awake, he could only guess that it was a few minutes later, his mother holding him as she was running. Staring back at his father, his vision blurred for a moment before looking over toward the truck, now on its side, and the smell of some kind of gas filled the air. Then he heard several booms, and fire started exploding, like a chain reaction, suddenly surrounding them. As things got hot and too bright, Azazel closed his eyes, feeling something hit his mother before they were both tumbling into grass, and rolling down a bit down a small slope. Though she was a bit burnt by the fire, she was more concerned with Azazel. Who had taken some burns on his arms, legs, and face. She was repeatedly asking to tell him where it hurt, otherwise, he ignored her. Because he was honestly too shocked by the situation to respond. Mostly because he didn't see his father. When Sharada noticed this too, she stood and screamed out her husband's name. Azazel was able to breathe when D'Arcy emerged from the smoke just a few feet away. Finally, he snapped back from his episode. Standing up and running to the other, shouting at his mother so she would see him, too.
After a bit of a stint in the hospital to make sure his wounds weren't more serious, Azazel, his mother, and father returned home and resumed life. Azazel wore the new wounds proudly. Showing them off to his siblings for the most part, not wanting to focus on anything else, as he didn't want to think about it. One of his oldest siblings commented that 'burn scars' would be cool. Then commented that Azazel's didn't look like they would be noticeable. Before the two got in a playfight over it in a childish little argument. Which, as soon as Sharada had noticed this, shut it down, not wanting to have Azazel's injuries get worse. One of his siblings commented that Azazel was a walking bad luck totem, jokingly at this before running off to find something they could all do that wouldn't irritate Azazel's wounds. Pulling out a board game. The family spent some hours playing before going to bed. Once again, life returned to normal for the family.
After that, things were normal for a long time. The 'bad luck' seemed to have worn out, much to Sharada's delight. Perhaps she was just worrying too much, and overthinking it, she decided. As Azazel and his siblings grew up, he still got into little accidents, but nothing too life-threatening, thankfully. He seemed to settle more into who he would soon to be as an adult, she came to realize. As well, he showed to be quite intelligent, earning some amount of attention due to her persistence. As he seemed to show a budding interest in the sciences, she pushed him in that direction, letting him experiment and grow in that field as much as she possibly could.
In school, Azazel was often viewed as 'odd' for his quirky personality. But capitalized on many of the more 'jocky' and 'popular' types, offering to get them passing grades for some extra cash, so he didn't have to spend his time working some crummy part-time job through school, like his older siblings did. Entirely so he could focus on his own pursuits. It was during these teenage years that he honed his advisory skills. Especially when he was in line to take up an important role in a local gang he had gotten in with in these early years of his life, because of his skills, and rather than being an adversary, he made a better asset. Not only did he want his classmates to just use his answers, he wanted them to learn, and he wanted them to love learning. Or, well, he hoped they would do the work on their own, and still pay him for it. But whatever got him money, he wasn't too upset with what the outcome would usually be. But eventually he skipped a couple of grades, and within a few years, was attending university, one of the best in the country. Earning a doctorate and falling in love.
Eventually the two were made aware she was pregnant with their child. They both were excited over the idea of having a child. Azazel, who had been heavy into drinking and staying out late at night, do to unresolved trauma he was keeping to himself, told himself at this time that he was going to have to cut back on these habits. He even considered leaving the gang, but quickly dismissed this notion, finding it too valuable and enjoyable to leave. But he still found that starting a family would be in conflict with the dangers of being in a gang. Especially when he was in such an important position. However, he decided to not think about it, as it was distressing. Then kept putting it off, over and over again. Till it was time for the baby to be born. Just on time, his girlfriend woke him early one morning to tell him it was time and he grabbed her bag she had pre-prepared, helping her to the car. Driving her to the hospital. Everything looked to be going well. Azazel was with her when she brought their son into the world. But all too quickly, things went sour. While holding their son, he had seen how happy she was, before suddenly the color was leaving her face. The baby was taken away. He was healthy. But then, everything started to get hectic after that. He was rushed out of the room without saying much, except that his girlfriend was bleeding out.
Hours passed, his family was with him, his father or mother asking on his behalf what was happening during these times, when he didn't. It was during the night, when he was told that his girlfriend had died from blood loss. Angry, Azazel lashed out, demanding to know what could have happened. Only to be told 'It just happened' and 'We did everything we could'. His mother came to hold him, to stop him from getting more upset, and potentially hurting someone, which wasn't even on his mind at the moment. Despite his anger, he knew he had plenty of other things to take care of than spend any effort going to prison, for whatever he could have done, that night. Not an hour later, he was told he could visit his son. He wasted no time in doing so. Entering the room, he saw the baby, squirming a bit in his blanket he was wrapped in. Hesitating, he made his way over and reached over, cooing down at his son before gently brushing a finger along his red-stained face. It was just them, and it hurt so much to think of it like that. Just the two of them, now. Suddenly he remembered the conversation he and his girlfriend had on what to name the baby.
"What about Mapplethorpe?" "What? That names going to get him bullied. We can't name our baby Mapplethorpe." "Oh come on, AZ-a-zell, Mapplethorpe is totally a cute name!" "No! I'd rather name him James. At least it's boring."
He realized that he could hear her voice still, now. But soon enough, he wouldn't even remember it. Taking a seat next to the baby, he sighed, resigning to name their son Mapplethorpe, for her. Already regretting it, but knew he had to. At least his middle name would be James, he decided.
After being allowed to come home, Azazel brought Mapplethorpe home to Stargazer Villa, and the two spent the following six years without any major incident. A few pets and what felt like a lifetime later, Mapplethorpe and Azazel had carved quite a life for themselves. Azazel never left the gang, under his watchful eye when the two did come into contact. As things started to get more serious, Azazel would leave Mapplethorpe with his siblings, explaining he had to do stuff for his day job as a biotechnologist, and he figured the other would have been better off enjoying the company of his cousins. Though he had no clue how dangerous things had truly gotten till it was literally right on top of him. A day after dropping his son off on one such visit to one of his siblings, his memories just stop, and start not making much sense.
Then, suddenly, he is waking up. The dark star filled sky over him, the moon seeming fuller and bigger than it usually did on this day. Or maybe it was just in his head, honestly. He was lying somewhere, in the middle of nowhere, it seemed. He felt numb at first, as if his brain wasn't readily acknowledging…whatever happened. Taking in a deep breath, though, something snapped. Something inside of him was broken, or wrong, or- well, he couldn't really explain it, himself. But before he could stop himself, he was screaming like a banshee out there in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere. Thrashing against the ground, tears building in his eyes, before spilling out. Twisting his body, arching his back, he screamed before grabbing his head as all these emotions had suddenly crushed down on him. He swore he could hear barking, howling in the area around him. Wolves, or coyotes, maybe. He didn't have the brainpower to decide which one was more concerning at that moment. As this compulsion washed over him. Then suddenly, after some minutes, it stopped. He was numb again, curled up into a ball, his arms wrapped around his head. Now shaved down to a buzzcut. He had to think, he had to control himself. He told himself. Though the lack of memories, yet all these devastating emotions that washed over him, made doing so hard for him.
He felt extremely weak, especially after that uncharacteristic fit he just had. He didn't really register them as his, as he could not remember in that moment, just why he was feeling them. Pushing himself up took several tries. He felt just too weak at first. When he would get up just enough, he would collapse again, needing to rest for a few minutes. It was cold out here, but that was the last thing he was worried about. But what wasn't he worried about at the moment? He felt confused and lost about a lot of things. A million questions flooded his mind. But he couldn't even begin to answer them in this place, this nowhere he woke up in. He had to get home. He made that his first goal. Attempting to stand again, he managed to do it this time, though it took a few steps, holding a hand to his gut, before stumbling and falling to his knees. Catching himself with his free hand, he prevented himself from collapsing to the ground entirely. Something was very wrong, that was the issue, and he didn't know if he could get over it, and survive out here. Lifting his head, he looked around, at first only seeing absolute darkness aside from the little light the moon and stars in the clear sky provided him. It was no use in the desert brush that surrounded him.
But he continued to try, regardless of his weakened state. Even when he started to feel downright sick and ready to give up, he persisted, making his way to the lights in the distance. That he knew was one indicator of humanity. All he needed to do was get there. Though in the hours it took to get himself there, he stumbled, crawled, and dragged himself there. He recognized he hadn't even been far from home. Slouching against a building, he assessed, exhausted, his situation. Maybe, he told himself, if he just slept, everything would be better after that. Azazel pushed himself forward, trying to remember the way home from where he was. His clothes were in tatters, and filthy. Which seemed to bring him some attention, well, the way he looked, period, seemed to garner some attention from people leaving businesses that were still open at this hour, like bars. Azazel hadn't even registered these people, just focusing on keeping himself upright. Eventually, as the sun was looking as if it might rise soon, he came onto his street. Walking up to his house, he saw some yellow tape. Reaching out, he angrily ripped it off his door and tossed it out behind him, it getting caught in the wind. Then it got caught on a corner. Reaching into his pocket he hoped to find his key, only to find nothing. Great. Reaching up, he toyed with a part of the house that soon came loose, a key dropping out onto the stoop. With agonizing difficulty, Azazel knelt down to grab the key and stuck it in the door
Once inside, he realized why tape was on the door, seeing a significant amount of blood, he guessed that people thought he was dead or something, with how much blood stains still dotted the house. But he didn't have time to think about that. He was just set on sleeping. Not even thinking how things remained as they were, nothing was out of place, the blood didn't reach passed the entrance. Though as he moved to climb into his bed, he noticed how everything seemed to have some layer of dust on it. He told himself, once he had a decent night's sleep, he could figure out everything else that was going on. His mind just needed to rest before it could connect all the indefinite pieces that kept popping up in his head, sparking more bursts of overwhelming emotions. Unfortunately, days later, no amount of sleep resolved much, if any of it. But what did come to mind, he knew he had to keep to himself, along with the strange illness that he came home with, an absolute secret, even though it exacerbated his mental health along with it. He had to get used to when he needed to make his exits in efforts to keep his secrets. Once he had a few days to himself to get used to this new state of life, he revealed himself to well, not be dead, and back from wherever it is he even went.
With the questions from several directions mostly being about where he was, what happened, and the like, he refused to answer them. Quickly making exits wherever possible to go do something else of seeming importance. When it came to Mapplethorpe, he told the sibling primarily taking care of him at the moment to keep his son for the time being. Not sure it was safe, and still not sure if he was dangerous, with his sudden state of mind, and the illness making it worse, it seems he thought it would be better. Though he did let his sibling visit him with his son occasionally since coming back. What bothers him most, however, since coming back was his welcome back to regular mafia activity, putting on a strong front, he laughed off questions about where he was, what he had been doing all that time, and all of that. Not really ever giving a definitive answer, but played off his absence well enough. Or at least he hoped, but the whispers, the rumors buzzing from the housekeeping at the head of the family's home really would become a problem, one he had to make sure didn't get too out of control, one way or another. Even if it meant spilling blood on the carpet.
Self-Para's
Notable events/milestones: TBD. Accomplishments: TBD. Memories: TBD. Criminal record: Failure to appear/loitering. Affiliations: Mafia, Consigliere of the VITELLI FAMILY. Skeletons in the closet: TBD.
Relationships
Grandparents: Unknown Parents: Sharada Hawthorn (Chaudhari)(Mother)(Alive), D'Arcy Hawthorn (Father)(Alive). Sisters or brothers: 4 Older siblings. Wife or husband: None Children: A son. Currently living with one of Azazel's siblings since he's been missing. Other important persons: The devil may care(X)/The close encounter(RIKA HOSHINO)/The cracked jewel (X)/The malingering sloth (KINERET VITELLI)/The bad omen (SALEM JUNG)/The tiger shark (X) Partner(s)/Significant other(s): Daniel Spanou, Jazmín Ostrowski, Robertina Felipe , Zdislava Gómez, Hèctor Franklin, Gray Szabolcsi, Atousa Schultheiss, Vladimira Karimi, Renza Paulsen, Ambrose Grabowska, The tiger shark (X). Lover(s): Viliam Sheenan, Petro Sugita, Tancrède Temitope, Jacinth Shiraishi, Flavius Vaughan, Rehema Ölvirsson, Zaki Jahodová. Parents/Guardians: Best friends: Víkingr Gill, Adélard Kurz, Azra Krastiņa, Varuna Caivano. Friends: Kelley Calabrese, Gláucio Pál, Ismaël Abdullah, Adewale Abeln, Lina Pain, Conn Abdullayeva, Yaara Quirk, Simon Kovac, Jamshed Urano, Isapo-Muxika Sheedy, Guwisti Dalton, Inga Lukáč, Manius Kocsis, Andre Šarić, Zoe Yonker, Édouard Tsvetanov, Anah Giménez, Fernão Pugliese, Beata Warren, Dálach Linden, Dipaka Van Houten, Helmut Abdullayev, Raju Banerjee, Oghenero Zheng, Zoriana Mac Ruaidhrí, Maja Jacobse. Rivals: Marusya Babić, Hilding Ionescu, Oona Alvey, Zedong Oberst, Sébastienne Sydykova, Lorena Mlynáriková, Vancho Suess, Lisha Rutgers. Enemies: Helvius Davis, Tomiko Gold, Johannes Mägi, Younes O'Connor, Röstäm Klementová, Katrina Jiang. Colleagues: Mentors/Teachers: Raül Musil, Tam Cummings, Lamech Reece, Bodil Mulligan, Dalibor Westbrook, Nadir Antall, Miriana Roman, Erik Watts, Ferdi Andrysiak, Selig Shaughnessy. Idols/Role models: Socrates, Cesare Beccaria, Plato, Lao Tzu, Hypatia, Jacques Derrida, Jacques Lacan, Voltaire, Max Scheler, John Stuart Mill, Babe Ruth, Denzel Washington, Neil Armstrong, Carl Sagan, Chris Rock, Theodore Roosevelt, Abraham Lincoln, Nostradamus, Angelina Jolie, Noah (Ark), Ernest Hemingway, Michael Jordan, Robin Williams, Pablo Picasso, Charles Darwin, Robert Downey Jr, Galileo Galilei, Albert Einstein, Aristotle, Amelia Earhart, Alexander the Great, Harry Houdini, Bruce Lee, C. S. Lewis, Nikola Tesla, Leonardo da Vinci, Unatural things: TBD.
Physical Characteristics
Addictions: Alcohol Bad Habits:
Seems to "zone out" when music is playing Taps fingers on surfaces Biting fingernails Overthinking Popping/snapping bubble gum in public Pacing Maintains intense eye contact Shows up unannounced
Color of Eyes: Deep Dark Brown. The color of Hair: Dark Brown. Type of hair: When not tamed with product or such, his hair can be curly. 3b type. It's pretty thick and usually appears styled/gelled/other, Or soft when left in a cleaned natural state. Hairstyle: Used to have hair long, very long, almost has never had his hair cut his entire life. Will fight tooth and nail if someone tries. More because he doesn't like to be touched, and such. So his hair has just grown to be incredibly long, and with that, he spends a lot of time working on keeping it out of his way, and the way of others. Examples. Upon his return from his assumed death, it is cut much shorter, initially a buzzcut when he came back, now a little longer. The color of Skin: Cold Golden Brown. That's now a lot paler. Fashion style: Prefers wearing elegant clothing, practical clothing, and respectable clothing. All with cool colors, winter colors, or light colors. Often wearing hats, scarves, gloves, belts, and some jewelry. Favorite outfits: Here. Accessories: A book, A pocket watch, A whistle, A bookmark, a Bottle of pills, a Chain, A Fork, A Harmonica, Pistol, A bottle of glue, an Umbrella, Silencer, a Skateboard, a Kitchen knife, Handheld game systems, a Laptop, Journal, all in his backpack interchangeably. Cleanliness/Grooming: He is often good at keeping up his hygienic habits but can be messy. Posture/Gait: Takes a knee when he kneels, Sleeps/rests in the fetal position, When he crouches he squats fully, Stands with arms akimbo, that is with hands on hips, elbows pointing outward. Coordination (or lack thereof): Most of the time he has excellent coordination. But not all of the time. Does the character drink regularly? Yes. Does the character have any disabilities/conditions? Yes
Asthma [mild persistent] ADHD [impulsive/hyperactive type] Sleepwalking Undiagnosed illness Paranoia Generally Low Tolerance for everything Dissociative Amnesia CPTSD Misophonia Anemia Narcolepsy
Does the character smoke? Yes. Good Habits:
Can literally fall asleep anywhere Strong convictions Thrives in hot weather, hates cold weather Prone to singing, whistling, or humming quietly Brutally honest in most conversations Likes to file their fingernails to sharp points because it makes them feel more dangerous Fantastic chef, but hates to cook Wears long sleeves with thumb holes to cover the lower part of the palm Loves to walk in the rain Restless/constantly needing to move/fidget [Dispersing energy]
Height: 5'10” Weight: 137 Body type: Lean/Toned. Fitness level: Intermediate Tattoos: Has five tattoos. Scars/Birthmarks: Has eight scars. Has eighteen birthmarks that look more like freckles, dotted across his body. Hobbies:
Woodworking Metalworking Learning Crafting Gardening/other Coloring Astronomy Antiquing Mathematics Experimenting Parkour Chess Painting Playing board/tabletop games
Is he/she wearing glasses? No. Is the character healthy or does he have any diseases? No. What’s the style of the character? (modern, outmoded): Practical and elegant.
Mental Characteristics
Education: Attended University. IQ: 180. Skills/talents: Hiding, Palm objects, Giving advice, Nature lore, Climbing, Personal productivity. Fears: Abandonment/Loss of identity. Optimist or pessimist?: Pessimist. Daredevil or cautious?: A bit of both, given a situation, more so a daredevil, however. Logical or emotional?: Logical. Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat?: Probably a disordered, yet methodical and clean mess. Prefers working or relaxing?: Relaxing. Confident or unsure of himself/herself?: Confident. Animal lover?: Yes. Self-perception: That he is an omen of bad luck or something like that.. Assumed external perception: Winning. Self-Confidence: Strong. Rational Or Emotional: Rational. Personality traits: Eccentric/Brutal/Ambitious/Dependable/Principled/Deceitful/Impersonal/Complex/Secretive/Charming/Tense/Compassionate/Precise/Well-read/Chummy/Honorable/Distractable/Surprising/Casual/Steely/Crafty/Aloof Personality type: INTJ. Enneagram: 8w7. Character archetype: Ruler. Zodiac: Scorpio. Moral Alignment: True Neutral most of the time, but will to jump alignments from Good to evil, given what the situations call for. Temperament: Phlegmatic. Animal Types: Owl Aura: Honeysuckle Chakra: Third Eye (Imbalanced) Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw. Patronus: Great Grey Owl, Bat or Buzzard. Ilvermorny House: Horned Serpent. Introvert/Extrovert: Introvert. Holland Code: ICA: Investigative, Conventional, Artistic. Morals/Virtues: Chastity, Patience. Sins/Vices: Sloth, Gluttony. Dark Triad: Machiavellian-ism. Elemental: Fire (Electricity) or Air. Avatar Element: Earth. Divergent: Erudite. Loves: Clutter, Horror movies, Trips, Toys, Running, Animals, Puzzles, Spicy food, Art, Fall, Organizing, Blue, Rugby, Meditation. Angered by/Pet peeves: Humming, Over apologizing, Telemarketers, Line cutters. Obsessed with: Zoomania, Methomania, Ergasiomania, Klopemania, Technomania, Bibliomania, Infomania. More Secrets: Makes up stories since he thinks he's boring. Shot someone. Regrets: His seemingly stubborn and odd behavior made other children avoid him when he was growing up. Feeling like he's missing out. Unknowingly helped a friend do something that hurt other people, finding out afterward. Not accepting being friends with someone who would have had a better impact on his life as he grew up. Wrote a best-selling novel, that was stolen and put under another person's name. Not liking some foods. One of his musician friends invited him to join their band, but he left the opportunity because of a trivial matter he had with himself. Preferred communication methods: Listening and visual communication. Style and pacing of speech: Casual style, pace is normal, understandable when not excited. He pauses a little more than regularly to think. Pitch: His pitch can be low-mid to mid-high. Laughter: Pigeon laughter. Smile: Warm smile. Use of gestures: Nodding, Shaka sign, Manipulator gestures, and Iconic gestures. Facial expressions: Ecstatic, Pitying, Impassive, Stolid, Sanguine, Vacant, Scornful, Glancing, Straight-faced, Chagrined, Cheeky, Hopeless, Bleak, Blinking, Wry, Wary, Bilious, Somber, Tight, Glaring, Darkly. Verbal expressions: Bloviation, Mutterings, Utterances, Whispering, Talking through.
Emotional Characteristics
How does the character cope with fury and rage? Probably go and work on one of his interests. Or he may just argue/fight the person who put him in this state of mind. … with unhappiness? Certainly, go away to focus on a project/interest till he feels better. … with rivalry? Ignore them. Or Antagonize them. … with new situations? They are fine. … with trouble? Handle it. What’s his or her meaning of life? Hasn't decided yet. What makes this character happy? Be able to do his hobbies or invest in his interests. Is the character often biased? Here and there. Probably. Depends on that topic. Does the character prefer to give or to take? He leans more toward giving. But he's not ashamed of just taking, either. Character Questions
Here
renfarber:
She hadn’t realized how nervous she’d been until she saw him smile. This apartment was her, all over, just the essence of who she was splashed all over the walls. It was her, and it was Max, and so it mattered to Ren if Leo liked it. If he liked them. She didn’t know how to feel about that mattering to her, so… she just pushed it down with all the other feelings she had right now. They could come back out after some whiskey untangled them.
She dragged a chair over to the counter so she could reach the top shelf of the cabinet. She wasn’t entirely sure why she kept the liquor up here - it wasn’t as though Max could get into it at seven months old - but it was always good to make things like that hard to reach. For emergencies only. And this definitely counted. On her way down, Leo handed her one of Max’s toys, and she smirked. “Thank you.”
“Max is with my mom,” she said, getting ice out of the freezer. “I should text her, actually. She should probably keep him overnight.” Her eyes flicked up to him, knowing how he’d take that. She held up a finger. “Because we’re drinking. And we need to talk without a crying baby. You stay two feet away from me,” she smirked. She shouldn’t be joking about this, not when he had a wife, not when he had a baby with her best friend… it just… came so easily.
She poured two drinks and passed one over, sitting at the table and sending a quick text to her mom. Seconds later, her phone beeped, and she rolled her eyes, texting again and then turning off her phone.
“Mom says hi,” she smirked. Gloria had always loved Leo. Even now, after Ren had cried on her shoulder about the mess they were in. It was disloyal, honestly. But Ren supposed it was only fair, since she didn’t hate Leo either. She sighed, pulling her braids over one shoulder, and looking at Leo. “So… how’d you meet your wife?”
-
Leo’s brows immediately quirked up at Ren’s words, taking them just as suggestively as she assumed he would. He couldn’t help but break into a small laughter at the finger she had held up. He held his hands up and sat at the table at the furthest one from where she was currently. “Two feet it is.” He agreed though he did find it funny how she needed the physical distance from him. Like he had a pull. Though he felt the same way about her lips.
He watched as she poured the drinks. His eyes admiring the caramel hue a bit too closely. It had been a minute since he was able to indulge. It was getting a lot harder to sneak away. His hand couldn’t help but tap on the counter till the drink was passed over to him. From there he had taken a well measured first sip while she was distracted with her phone.
“Tell Gloria, I said hey,” he smiled that shit eating grin that was just a permanent reaction to when his ego was stroked. Though that grin had immediately left his lips at the mention of his wife. His forehead wrinkled as he pulled his brows together, he laughed once before replying, “You don’t wanna talk about that.” He said openly refusing to answer. “We have other things to talk about.” He said quite solemnly as he brought his drink to his lips.
averydawson:
Avery playfully rolled her eyes at his words. But her eyes went wide when she saw him bolt for the bathroom. She knew exactly what was happening. She heard the cup falling, knowing he spilled and that his head was in the toilet. “okay.” she said quietly, getting a new cup of water then follow him to the bathroom. She swallowed hard and walked in. “You good?” she asked, kneeling beside him and rubbing his back. “Let it all out.” she added. “Here drink this, you need to finish it. Please.” she advised. Thankfully, she had mouth wash for him to use.
-
Leo quickly reached up to flush the toilet when he heard her come in. Whether it was a pride thing or out of courtesy, he didn’t know. No one had seen him this low. He had done such a good job of hiding the effects his depency had on him from everyone close to him. He had done such a good job from hiding himself. And with the biggest secret he’s ever had looming over his head, he couldn’t drink the guilt away. no, not this time. tonight was proof there wasn’t enough alcohol to wash away this indiscretion. it pained him to even think about it that way. leo coughed and took the water from Avery, his half lidded eyes not showing much. “when I left here the other night... it was because my friend was having a baby... my baby..” he said in weak montoned way. he was becoming coldly sober. he took a sip of the water before dragging his eyes to Avery’s face. “I have a baby with someone who’s not my wife.”
averydawson:
Avery leaned in slightly, waiting to hear what he was going to say. Seemed like it was going to be big from the way he showed up. Something serious. When he finally responded, she knew that wasn’t completely true. It was something more but she wasn’t going to push, it wasn’t her business. He would tell her when he was ready. “Uh huh. well i hate to burst your bubble and as tempting as that sounds, I’m not sleeping with a drunk guy. Maybe when you sober up.”
-
“At least, I’m tempting,” he said his ego clearly present in the room, taking up space as it did. “I could sober up in like an hour or two.” He said confidently, but his head lulled to the side on the couch’s cushion. His body no longer wanting to fight the fatigue, but his heart was continuing its’ rapid beating. the paradox inside was beginning to become so uncomfortable, it needed something. to release something. but he wouldn’t let himself reveal the truth. it caused a sudden shift in his stomach. he sat up suddenly and looked at Avery with actual fear that he previously tried to hide, before he bolted from the room. leo managed to make it the bathroom. and he was on his knees on a ruffled bath rug with his head in the toliet. his glass of water had spilled on the floor near him. this wasn’t going at all going according to his plan.
averydawson:
She poked her head out to make sure none of her neighbors came out to see what the noise was before shutting and locking the door. turning her attention back to the man on her couch, she took a deep breath and walked back over to him. “Alright Leo, what brings you to my place at this hour, wasted?” she asked, sitting beside him. “finish that because you’re not leaving until you’re sober.” she lightly demanded. She’d be a terrible friend to send him back out in this state and for him to show up like this, something serious must’ve happened. It wasn’t everyday he was like this, not even on a night out at the bar.
-
“I think...” he began to say all while bringing the cup to his noggin to tap his temple with that hand. At first, Leo knew exactly what he was gonna say. He was going to spill everything out to one of his best friends. Everything that had happened the minute he left her place. But the fear of revealing who exactly he was had crept up again, making him close up again. Which allowed another head to begin thinking for him. “...I came here to finish what we started.” He rose his brows with a glint in his eye. He was making such a bold claim for someone who was seeing a motion blur with every movement that was made.
averydawson:
Avery climbed out of her hot shower and changed into something more cozy before she made herself comfortable on her couch with a cup of wine. Grabbing her laptop, she continuing working on the photos she started before her shower. Lifting the glass to her sip, she froze in place when she heard her name being sung outside her apartment. Terribly. Setting her laptop and wine on the table, she got up and walked over to her door. Opening it, she found a very drunk Leo on the ground singing. The more he sang, the more she knew there was going to be complaints from her neighbors. “Okay time to go inside.” She pulled him up, guides him inside and sat him down on the couch. She hurries to grab a cup of water then returns. “What is going on?” She asked curious as to why he was so drunk and showed up at her place, placing the water in his hand to drink. “Drink up.”
-
Leo would never singing while drunk. He never did. Though there was one instance with some modern Hugh Hefner at the drive bar on the ninth. But that's another story. Suddenly in the middle of his performance, he saw the inside of Avery’s apartment; though it was upset down. He grumbled since his loud singing no longer tickling his fuzzy mind. “Avery!” He exclaimed as she pulled him upright, barely recognizing her presence. He smiled following her with remissed moment. He fell carelessly onto the couch but he practically melted into the cushions. “Nothing much.” He responded with a burp just as she left him. Leo takes the glass and drinks it, expecting the clear liquid to be vodka. He made a face after his sip of water. “Gross,” He breathed when he realized it was water.
krosxn:
Katz just shook his head. “The fuck do you think it means, Leo? If it’s so functional, why didn’t you go home tonight? Why are you on my couch?” He didn’t mind taking care of Leo. He was one of his closest friends, for some reason, and honestly, it was easier than taking care of Oliver had been. He’d be fine in the morning. At least, whatever Leo Davis functioned on daily “fine”.
-
Leo’s lips parted into a silent gasp, a bit dramatic over Katz’s direct questioning. Leo didn’t wanna think about that truth. “Next! I don’t wanna play this game.” Childishly, Leo slumped further down on the couch, and grunted. He lawled his head to the side to see Katz better again and in quieter voice, he answered, “You know why I’m here Katz. She’d hate me, hate seeing me. Seeing who I am.” He rambled, saying his truth cryptically but in a way it could be interpreted lighter than he truly meant it.
krosxn:
Katz just looked at him as his ex-husband was mentioned. “Maybe if enough people say it you’ll believe it on day.” Oliver and he were in a good place. They were supportive of each other. Katz would always love him. He’d always have a special place for him in his heart, but he had to do what was best for himself. Oliver wasn’t a good environment for his creative process. He didn’t sign up to take care of someone else like that and get nothing in return. For better or worse didn’t mean much when there was no better. “At least we’re more functional than you and your wife.”
-
Leo just laughed, but was a moment delayed. His senses were still weary, but he could certainly hear the ice in Katz’s words. “I’m still sensing some hostility there Kitty Katz.” He waved a palm gesturing to Katz’ invisible aura. Leo didn’t know too much detail of why his favorite pair of husbands had called it quits. He only knew that his trio had turned into three shattered relationships. Leo, however, didn’t like it one bit once his partner was brought up. His pulse racing faster with alcohol in his veins. “What the fuck is that suppose to mean, man?” Leo questioned, his voice no longer in a lighthearted slur, yet his body was unable to straighten up. “You shut your mouth, my marriage is fucking functional.”
closed starter: @krosxn location: Katz’ home
“Hey Kitty-Katzzz,” Leo slurred out, and he repeated himself as he tapped on Katz’ door. Leo had somehow walked from a bar to Katz’ home, too tipsy to go to his actual home or his wife would see him staggering. And he can’t have her seeing him like this. Plus he had wanted to run an idea by Katz. “I had a thought at the bar, what if I had played Jonathon Larson instead of Andrew Garfield?” He shouted into the closed door with elation to the silly thought. “I’d kill 30/90!” He continued on with half lidded eyes.
oliverbrowncnn:
“Depends.” Oliver gave Leo a look. Weren’t he and his wife loaded? “I’ve seen people charge that for a hand job.” He smiled as a woman turned around to play the part of the offended dame . “I know ma'am. In this economy?” His eyes grew larger then, before he shook his head in dismissal. She could take her outrage else where.
“Anyway, you do whatever you want with this information,” sticking his hands in his pockets, he had a look over at the list for largest donors, expecting to find The Brown foundation somewhere in the top 5, and not exactly surprised to see they were in the top 3.
-
Leo’s brows behind the leather mask shot straight up at Oliver’s remark. Laughter from his belly left his lips which doubled when Oliver told off their eavesdropper. Leo’s laughter making the speed of her exit all the more hastily. “I don’t think I’ll ever stoop so low. But if I get there, you’ll know.” He sniffed, shaking his head, before focusing back on the donation slip. “And I’m of course--kidding about a five dollar donation.” He said, writing down four digits. This amount was safe for him and his wife’s combined income, but all he could see were the amount of drinks that could be had at the dive bar on the ninth. So. Many. Drinks. “On the safe side, I better ask Alaska.” He said, folding up the slip, and placing it in his coat’s inner pocket. He was buying time with the money, and mourning the potential loss of an excessive amount of his vice.
He made way to see what had Oliver’s attention now. Leo clearly saw his friend’s last name, and he nearly snorted. “Besides, why do they need my money when they got yours, you ol’ fox?” Leo quipped with tilting his head to the side, his lion mask surely adding the playful taunting that Leo was delivering.
annalisechambersx:
Annie knew she could be a lot. that was just…who she was. She liked to speak to people and just mingle with society. It was fun. Plus, you never knew when you would make a great new friend just by meeting someone randomly in a bar. Sure, this in front of her seemed a little put off by the sudden appearance of her (which she understood), but she was going to try her best to make a friend tonight.
She smiled softly as the other spoke, nodding her head, “Most bar food is pretty subpar, you know? But there’s just something about this place. I don’t know what it is.” She giggled and shrugged, “Would you want some of the wings?” She asked, her eyes lighting up a bit, “I could never eat a full batch by myself.” She paused and waved her hand, “They’re on me, I promise. I don’t want a penny.”
Leaning over the bar, Annalise tapped the top a few times and soon enough, the bartender was wandering over and he was ordering an order of mild wings and a beer for the gentleman as well. Holding her drink tightly, she turned back towards him with a smile, “I’m Annalise, by the way. But you can call me Annie if you like. It’s a bit quicker.” She giggled, “I hope I’m not…interrupting you or anything. Or if you were waiting for a friend or something. Oh, I’m sorry I am!”
-
The dive bar on the ninth was arguably Leo’s current favorite place in the city. So she wasn’t wrong about there being an essence to it. But he kept see-sawing in his mind if wanted to keep up with this conversation. It wasn’t her at all. Her sunny disposition and energy is what he should be striving towards. He was just far too stubborn to. He’d put a damper to her night, if this interaction continued. He didn’t deem himself as a particularly nice person unless it was useful to him. Add alcohol to that equation, and you got a more than chaotic Leo. But the light in her eyes, and her continuous graciousness kept him responding. “I could have some wings.” He said, accepting the free food. He might as well eat something so he could drink even more without getting sick. Good plan.
He stayed quiet as he watched her place in her order. When she ordered a beer, specifically for him, he couldn’t help but cringe. Even though it was a completely nice gesture. Leo detested beer like it’s whole existence offended him. Carbonated, fermented hops and yeast juice? That beer? Fuck, no. He wasn’t planning on pretending he was a fan of it either. “I’m Leo, and no, I’m alone.” He informed her and then he tilted his head at her. “Annie, did you know you’re so overtly happy?” He questioned with a lifted brow.
The sound of a glass mug being placed in front of him, took his attention. It was the beer, ice cold, with fragrant foam head. He swallowed and pushed it towards her space on the bar top as he held his breath. “I can’t drink that. It’s gonna taste like beer and I hate that.” He said, not hiding his dismay one bit.
sophieblakes:
‘Soph, Leo left his wallet at home again. I’m in a lunch meeting and then unavailable until 5. Please get it and meet him in central park to give it to him ASAP. Thanks‘
Damnit. She’d had finally relaxed into her pre-lunch slump. When Oliver wasn’t here and didn’t need her around, Sophie was essentially free to do as she wished as long as all the things on the checklist (and everything Oliver added through the day) were done in an orderly fashion. So, she’d cleared an hour and a half to head to Baltazar and have a nice lunch by herself. But no. Of course no.
‘Gotcha. I’ll figure it out’
This is why you can’t have nice things, Sophie.
Getting an Uber was gonna be hell, so armed with her airpods and her favorite micro-economics podcast, her metro card and her will to have lunch after this encounter, she made her way to the subway and all the way to Oliver’s house, retrieving the missed wallet and then texting Leo to make sure they were Ok on their meeting place. They’d spoken before, so she had his name on her phone.
‘Hi, It’s Sophie here. Does the central park corner of 5th and 59th work for you? I’ve got your wallet’
Maybe she could get lunch at the Plaza if she made it on time.
-
Leo cursed up a storm this morning when he realized before he was to leave his house that his wallet was missing. He searched high and low. And got himself into little spat with his wife about his negligence. She wasn’t wrong, however, this would be the third time this month that he misplaced it. If Leo hadn’t been drinking to wipe away some memories, he’d wonder where his own head had been at. He contacted Oliver as his place was the last place he was sure that he had it at. And because of his friend’s importance Leo had to work with his assistant.
‘Hi, Sophie, that works. Be there in 10.’
He texted back, real simple, as if he wasn’t much a text-er. Well, at least he liked to keep that impression up. Why he had to prove it to someone who was an acquaintance was beyond him. He had never met Oliver’s personal assistant. And hell before Oliver, Leo never knew someone who even had an assistant.
He had to rearrange his whole morning since without his wallet, he wouldn’t be able to just go about his day normally. Sure, his wife armed him with a card to their joint bank account, but he couldn’t risk having her see just where he was making charges.
Leo was right where he said he’d be ten minutes later. He immediately claimed a space near the fountain to keep away from foot traffic. He looked around, purposely people watching till hopefully he’d make eye contact with someone who was looking for him. But with this being Central Park, it was like finding a needle in a haystack. He pulled out his phone to text her again, before resuming his surveillance.
‘At the fountain. Red puffer coat.’
He bit his lip and continued to look around. He wasn’t fond of feeling this way, counting on some stranger.
Is cheating ever okay?
“It’s not right, but it’s okay.” He chimed, a knee jerk reaction to something so serious. But the fact he accompanied the Whitney Houston tune with a finger gun wasn’t the worst part of it all. Cheating was something he was doing best. He had truly suppressed his reality by wrecking his liver every night. The reality of chasing another affection from someone other than his loving wife. But he made himself believe the following sentiment.
It wasn’t cheating if he’s never met her. It wasn’t cheating if he’s never seen her. It wasn’t cheating if he’s never touched her. It wasn’t.
HONESTY HOUR*
astral-silk:
closed starter to @le0davis location: dive bar on 9th
There was a certain tension to the expression she held as she practically stormed into the bar, as if she might turn into torrential downpour at the slightest twitch out of deadpan. Sometimes life just felt so frustrating and impossible. Like she was constantly swimming upstream and wasn’t going anywhere. Some days it was easier to handle, to stay focused and keep that dream alive she’d held since she was a child. Other days it felt like this—chaos in her head. Like she wanted to scream in the streets; ask all of New York why she just wasn’t good enough.
It’d started from the moment she’d woken up. Late to class because she was late to wake up and had to commute from the Bronx into Manhattan because she was too poor to live down by NYU. The perpetual underlining of every experience; an emphasis she could never escape. It made every bad day even worse. And then to top it off, by the time classes were over and she’d rushed to get to NASA, a taxi driver had splattered dirty snow water all over her. That not only earned her some extremely judgmental looks from all the astrophysicists, but also had her pulled into a meeting with her boss. The boss that she’d been sleeping with to even have her internship spot—not that it was that big of a deal outside of the quid pro quo. She was actually attracted to them, all things considered. But the least they could do was understand she hadn’t intended to show up covered in mud—she just didn’t have time to go home and change. After twenty minutes of being spoken down to, the rest of her shift continued in similar fashion. It was like she just couldn’t get it right. Nothing she did, all day long. The last straw was being yelled at by one of her coworkers for interrupting him, to give him the seltzer water he’d asked for.
That’s what landed her here, cheeks flushed with anger but unable to express any of it. She was negative in her cashapp—how the hell did that even happen? But at least she had some quarters in her wallet. “What can I get you?” the bartender asked. “A shot,” she responded, painfully obvious she wasn’t much of a drinker. She really wasn’t supposed to drink—the doctors said it was bad to drink on steroids and her nephritis wouldn’t take kindly to it. She didn’t care. She was frustrated. “Um…” she paused. “Vod…ka?” it came out like a question, like she was unsure of herself that vodka was even a spirit. And then slid her handful of quarters the bartender’s way. “Will this be enough?” She couldn’t even feel the embarrassment of it anymore with how exhausted she was from the day.
-
Leo’s index finger and thumb appiled pressure to his throbbing temple. today was one of those days where he couldn’t escape from his wife’s attempt to communicate with him. though he couldn’t blame his wife for the silly game of twenty-one questions about his feelings. no, that blame belonged to his therapist. he rubbed his eyes now, with elbows propped on the bar. why on earth was it so important to know what he was thinking about? he’ll never understand nor did he want to. he felt like he was exisiting and trying his best. how was that not enough? he let out a groan and pulled his hands away from his face to find the bartender freshening up his drink.
after some proper nursing of whiskey on the rocks, leo was feeling a lot better. he was buzzed. completely radiating with false energy that was just his heart stressing under the poison of his vice. leo offen people watched when he was this phase. his spotlight now shone on the tall, raven haired woman who sat adjacent to him. he watched her in silence, pinching his cold glass in his dominant hand. he took a drink just as the bartender had spoken to her. he almost laughed; his mouth curving around the glass as he sipped his drink. it was the most amusing order he’s heard since someone ordering a slippery nipple.
Leo couldn’t help but insert himself, eyeing the mix of dirty and shiny quarters in her palm. He let out a low whistle. “Looks like we know where all the missing coins went.” He said, referencing the national coin shortage. Him making a joke, really kept him from sympathizing with her at first. He had been there once before. He couldn’t even afford a bagel with a proper smear when his career was going down the drain. “That’s not enough if you want to numb up whatever you’re feeling.” His tone still coated in smugness. His brown eyes read her face some more as he leaned back in his seat. His gaze shifted to the bartender. “I’ll cover the rest. Give her a triple and a water.” The bartender looked over at her for confirmation, as the amount of quarters she had presented them was barely enough for one shot.
annalisechambersx:
Annie really felt like she was living her best life in New York. Sure, she missed home and she missed her family, but New York just felt like the place for her. She loved her job, she loved her friends, she loved the day life and she really loved the night life. There was just something about walking around New York at night and seeing all the lights mixed with the hustle and bustle. It was exactly what she wanted.
A couple nights a week, after work, she would head out to a bar, just wanting to unwind a little and maybe meet some new people. She had no fear when it came to speaking to people. Which, really, was a dangerous thing considering she could very well get hurt doing that…but it hadn’t happened yet. So she was feeling confident it wouldn’t. Probably. When Annie approached the bar, the barmaid smiled warmly at her and got to work on her favorite drink, the Cosmopolitan. After a minute or so, she was passed the drink and a straw, and she was moving through the bar, her chocolate hues dancing around.
She just hung around for a bit, sipping idly on her drink when she spotted a man that appeared to be alone. That was sad. Annie didn’t like seeing that. She didn’t mind being alone. She believed that she was meant to be. But that wasn’t the case for everyone else. With her signature smile on her face, she crossed the room and the approached the man, her curls bouncing as she did so, “Have you ever had their wings here?” She asked, a little randomly, “I’m not much for chicken wings. But there’s something about them here.” She giggled quietly and shrugged, “Actually most of their food is pretty good now that I think about it…”
-
Fucking-tourist-implant, a sputter of thoughts left his head as he passed by some dude in a spankin new I Heart NY t-shirt. He didn’t know why that had bothered him too much on this particular evening. But as he got older, he grew to see just how crowded this edge of the east coast was. Yeah, that’s what it was, the city was becoming too saturated. his mood wasn’t sour because his mouth was dry, he told himself. he always downplayed how much he needed his vice even lying to himself. but he couldn’t lie that the world became a bit nicer when he sat in that stool with the cold sweat of his drink at his fingertips.
it sipped slowly now, savoring how the taste had rose the hairs on neck and gave him the feeling of goosebumps. he was at his usual bar, truly in his own element tonight. he liked the people watching, the food for a bar was decent, and the bartender was great company when available. he was fine just as he was, just another typical night.
“Uh—erm,” leo cleared his throat of his initial surprise. people didn’t usually approach him because he was always scowling. he could have sworn he had the same look he always did. but now he was surprised, meeting brown eyes far warmer than his own could ever be. he paused, wondering if he should even reply to this stranger’s sudden presence. he could easily let out a big gruff and walk off. but this was his spot. his brow quirked when she spoke about the other food items as if she had them. he, of course, had sampled the whole menu once.
“Order what you want.” He shrugged then pinched his glass in his dominant hand. his gaze on the stranger was still cautious. his expression was not friendly nor rude. “But yeah, the food’s pretty good.”
complain, complain, and complain is all leo wanted to do right at this very moment. he found solace complaining over his life with a glass in his hand at his favorite spot on the ninth. ah, he was waiting for the sweet relief that would come to sliding himself in his seat with his usual order waiting for him. but today’s extra curricular activities just had to wait. he had a new client that absolutely had to be seen today.
all he could do was clench his jaw as he fought the desire to abandon the empty class room that was dubbed as his office today. his foot began tapping away as he sat inncorrectly on a student’s desk. his behind was perched on the headrest and his feet flat on the seat. he was hunched over, lost in the vision of elsewhere, till a quiet scuffle made him turn around.
leo sighed, seeing the combination of big blue eyes and blonde hair. another pretty young thing to surpass him in life. fantastic, he grumbled in his head. he cleared his throat before greeting her, his voice coming out warmer than his own thoughts. “Hey there, are you,” he turned to grab the resume that was on the desk. lifting up the page as he turned back towards her, he questioned, “Deliah Roche?” @itsdelilahroche
