Tw Alcohol - Blog Posts

Right Enough for Me

CW: no outbreak, murder, domestic violence, descriptions of violence (Joel’s the good guy, I promise)

This fic is based off the song Wait in the Truck by HARDY and Lainey Wilson

Joel Miller liked to believe that he was a good man, that he tried his damndest to do the right thing, but as he sat in his truck parked by the bank of the Colorado looking down at the still-warm pistol in his trembling hands he’d wondered if he’d done wrong. In the eyes of the law he had, sure, but morally, truly, was it wrong?

He sighs as he climbs out of his truck and walks into the river until it lapped just below the tops of his work boots. It was eight a.m. on a Tuesday. There were no sunbathers, nobody playing in the water, nobody to see him wind his arm back and hurl the gun into the river. Hopefully the lifeblood of Texas would take his sins far east and spill them into the Gulf.

As Joel made his way to his jobsite he couldn’t seem to keep his mind from running. Part of him wanted to clam up and try to forget what he’d done, but another part wanted to clear his conscience. If he went to a confessional they weren’t allowed to go to the cops, but the penance they’d give wouldn’t absolve him. He could probably confide in Tommy, he was sure to understand, but what if he didn’t? Instead he just sighs and wipes the nervous sweat from his brow and goes to decide today's agenda. Despite it all, despite the horrible, horrible events of the morning, he was still the first one to work with ten fresh boxes of Carpenter’s nails and the crisp receipt to go with them. Maybe things would be okay.

One Month Earlier

A knock at the door raises Joel from the breakfast table, wordlessly ruffling Sarah’s hair as he passes on his way to the door. He swings the door wide and lets a dopey smile spread across his face when he sees you with your usual beer can sized rollers still in your hair. He takes notice of the split in your perfectly lined lips.

You weren’t prideful, but he knew you’d be humiliated if he mentioned it. He’d been there before, after all.

“Mornin’ Darlin’,” he greets, waving for you to come in. “We’ve still got plenty if you’re hungry,” he offers, gesturing to the dining room table where Sarah was strategically drizzling syrup onto a sausage link.

“Nah, I’m alright. Already ate with JP. I’ll take some coffee if you’ve got it though”

“Alright then.”

You give him a smile and join Sarah at the table while Joel fixes your coffee just how you liked it, sliding it in front of you before disappearing upstairs.

“Y/n,” Sarah questions, looking up from her plate.

“Yeah kiddo?”

“How’d you meet my dad again?”

“I grew up down the street, but we met ‘cause of you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You was real little when I started watching you, ‘bout three I think. Your dad needed someone to watch you and I’ve been your babysitter ever since.”

“How old were you?”

“Nineteen.”

She grins in response. “Seven years. That’s a long time. Why don’t you marry my dad, he really likes you, plus you’re basically my mom already.”

You cover your mouth in a feeble attempt to not spew coffee all over the naive girl in front of you.

“Honey, you know I can’t. I’m married to JP. He’s a good man.”

Her eyes narrow. “If he’s so great how come I’ve never met ‘em”

“He don’t like rugrats. You done eating?”

“Oh I see how it is, and yes. Can I go watch TV?”

“Go brush your teeth and then we’ll talk.”

“Okay.”

You can’t help but smile as Sarah slides out of her seat and runs upstairs. It was almost seven and you knew she didn’t want to miss the newest episode of Inuyasha. You get up and scrape what's left of her plate into the trash and put it into the dishwasher, smiling to yourself when you hear Joel jogging down the steps in his heavy boots.

“Alright Darlin’, I’m outta here,” he calls, punctuated by the jingling of his keys as he pulls them from their designated hook. “You got her?”

“Always do Joel,” you respond, giving him a lazy grin as you head into the bathroom to finish your hair.

Sarah knocks on the door and you let her in, telling her she can watch TV as long as it isn’t too loud and she already has her backpack together. She thanks you and scampers off, leaving the door open behind her, which was probably for the better since your hairspray was starting to choke you.

After you get Sarah off to school you head to work for another exciting day of taking phone calls and sharpening pencils, then using said pencils to record notes of said phone calls and then do it all over again the next time the phone rang.

Dale had come in again, bug-eyed and skittish as usual, trying his damndest to chat you up despite your obvious disinterest, pressing about how things were with you and JP, if he’d want to have beers with him after work sometime, how your tomatoes were, and on and on. Finally you’d gotten him to get to what he was there for, which was getting his truck's registration update put on file, and you’d promptly shooed him out after everything was squared away.

You’d finally gotten off and picked Sarah up from school, cracking open one of Joel’s High Lifes and propping your bare feet up on the coffee table to watch General Hospital while Sarah worked on her homework. Time crawled on and Sarah finished up and went outside to play on her tire swing before coming in and laying on the floor beside you with her copy of Are you there God? It’s me, Margaret, that you had gotten her last month. You figured you'd stop and get her Starring: Sally J Freedman as Herself next. It was always your favorite.

Around five fifteen you had called JP and let him know that you were going to be late getting home since there was no sign of Joel and he still hadn’t called. He’d gotten upset, so you just told him you loved him real sweetly and hung up and started dinner for Sarah.

Finally Joel got home around six and thanked you for staying late.

When you’d gotten home JP was furious, backing you into a corner and shouting into your face, calling you every name under the sun for God knows how long before he got bored and went back to the couch, demanding dinner and a beer.

JP had been a decent man for so long, you dated throughout highschool, parted ways, reconnected and got married at twenty-four. Things had been falling apart the last couple months and it had you looking for an out, hell you had the divorce papers shoved in your trunk under the spare tire, you were just too scared to tell him what you wanted, scared he wouldn’t let you leave, on the sunny side of a black bag at least. He got in your face like that for some reason or another at least three nights a week, and he'd busted your lip the night before over dinner being late. You knew it was too late to fix whatever you two used to have.

Things cooled off after that for about a week, then he came home drunker than a skunk and when you’d gone to get the mail the next morning you’d noticed a giant dent in his back bumper and that the front of his truck was barely an inch from the side of the trailer. You’d quietly made breakfast and went and woke JP when it was ready. He’d staggered his way into the kitchen and flopped into one of the chairs at the table.

“JP did you back into something last night?”

“What does it matter, woman?”

“You ain’t supposed to drive like that, you could’a hurt somebody, you could’a gotten hurt.”

“Last I checked this was a free country.”

“Last I checked, it's illegal to drive drunk.”

“Its only two miles back from Wyld’s”

“You almost drove through the damn house, JP.”

He’d risen sharply from his chair and come around the table, following you as you’d backed away from him. “C’mere, don’t act all scared now,” he growled, catching you by the arm and spinning you to face him and landing a heavy slap across your cheek. His breath still reeked of booze, and the look in his eyes told you that he was still extremely drunk, and that was probably what was keeping him from winding back on you. He was almost never drunk when he’d hit you.

“Teach you to fucking get smart with me again, bitch.”

It had only gotten worse from there, angry red marks became black eyes and hand-shaped bruises around your elbow that you’d so masterfully covered with more makeup than a Rodeo Queen, blotting your eyes when they’d water, and wearing those big sunglasses of yours as much as possible.

Joel had invited you and JP to a cookout at his place later that week and you’d both gone. JP played nice with the Millers and their friends until Tommy jokingly referred to you as ‘Sara’s new mama’ and then he’d dragged you inside, growling accusations under his breath at you while you tried your damndest to tell him that Tommy was just poking fun because you’re always looking after her. You open your mouth to tell him he didn’t mean nothing by it, but before you can speak he’s grabbed you by a fistfull of Texas-sized curls and you don’t have time to put your hands out before your face collides with the cold tile of the kitchen counter.

JP turns you loose and you stagger back a couple of steps, resting against the fridge to steady yourself as your vision swims, tinnitus setting in louder than it's ever been, and you’re vaguely aware of the warm ooze crawling down your top lip.

Finally your vision steadies some and you see that JP is gone. You wipe your nose on the back of your hand and feel around for fractures while you look around slowly, trying to remember where you are when you see Joel standing at the foot of the stairs

“How long’s he been doin’ that to you,” Joel questions, taking your clean hand and leading you into the bathroom, easing you to sit on the lid of the toilet and closing the door.

“It keeps bleeding,” you murmur, complying when Joel puts a wad of toilet paper in your hand and brings it to your nose, gently urging you to look down.

“You need to go to the hospital,” he informs you, steadying your chin and inspecting your eyes.

“I’m okay.”

“He slammed your face into the counter.”

“You seen that?”

“I heard it. You still bleeding?”

“No.”

“I’m gonna go get you some ice, just try to stay awake.”

“‘M’kay.”

He returns with a rag full of ice and gently presses it to your forehead in a couple places before focusing on your nose.

“I love you Joel,” you slur, finally giving into your heavy eyelids.

“No. No, hey. Look at me.” He taps at your cheek, sighing with relief when your eyes weakly flutter open again.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ. I’m calling nine-one-one,” he mutters, reaching into his pocket for his cell phone.

Your hand flies out and grasps his wrist as harshly as you can manage, making your head throb. “No, mhmh, can’t. He’ll kill me if he knows anyone knows.”

“Then we’ll just tell everyone you slipped and hit your face on this sink here, how’s that?”

“I…don’t know.”

“Listen I can keep him away from you, but you’re goin’ to the hospital and that’s that.”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

You don’t remember much of what happened after that, but JP never found out that Joel knew, and Joel was pissed when you’d left the hospital and had him take you back to that trailer instead of letting him take you down to your parents in San Antonio like he wanted to.

“Honey, please let me take you to your mama.”

“Joel…”

“He didn’t even bother to come get you.”

“I gotta be strategic about this. He’s crazy. He’s got boys in Galveston that make it snow all over the state with guns you can’t buy.”

“Fuck, Jesus, fuck. Girl, what have you gotten yourself into?”

“I don’t want to think about it right now.”

“I’ll think about it for you.”

Current Day

JP hadn’t put his hands on you in the week you’d been out of the hospital, which was likely because the bill you’d been sent home with was more than hefty. Life was so close to back to normal, sending him off to work and looking after Sarah, who believed the sink story that Joel had made up for you.

Joel.

You’d finally said it that day, what you’d been feeling all those years but too scared to say, words that could have saved you all this trouble if you’d just said them sooner, sitting there in his bathroom thinking every word out of your mouth would be your last, you’d told him. You hoped he felt the same, but maybe he just thought it was delirium.

You’d decided to go home for lunch today since you’d forgotten to pack one and your deli meat was about to expire. When you pull into your driveway you’re surprised to see JP’s truck sitting there in the driveway. A dread bubbles up in your belly, but you steel yourself and climb the stairs to your door.

It’s unlocked. Weird.

You go inside and go straight to the fridge, pulling the meat, cheese and mayonnaise out, spinning around and closing it with your hip. As you look up your hands jerk, leaving everything you were holding to the mercy of gravity as you let out a scream. Your right hand reaches out, finding the wall to steady yourself, tapping around, seeking the phone before finding it and pulling it from the hook and calling the cops.

You explain the situation to the operator as best you can, periodically looking over your shoulder to make sure that you’re not just seeing things, but every time you look, JP’s still laying in the bedroom floor, his eyes wide and glassed over, staring directly at you, blood seeping into the creme colored carpet and flowing with the bow of the floor onto the dark linoleum of the hallway.

Finally the cops show up and start their investigation while one officer pulls you outside for questioning. After the investigators have all they need from the body, the coroner shows up and carts JP off.

They told you you couldn’t be there while they continued so you went back to work. You told your boss why you were late getting back and he told you to take the rest of the day, but you couldn’t go home, so you went to Joel’s.

You spend the rest of the time before you have to go get Sarah thinking about a lot of things. Finally your mind settles and you realize that no matter what, he can’t hurt you again and that’s good enough for you.

When Joel gets home you already have dinner made and Sarah’s finishing up setting the table. You can tell by the look of him that there’s some weight on his shoulders, but you can’t place why. You’d surely know before the end of the day. Joel was never one to keep things from you.

He thanks you and asks if you’re staying. You nod and take a seat, gesturing for him and Sarah to fix their plates first. After your own plate is settled, you reach out your hands.

“I think we should pray.”

Joel gives you a funny look but still takes your hand and bows his head. You can feel him knock his foot into Sarah’s and she takes your hand too.

You pray silently and signal your finish with an audible “Amen,” which the Miller’s echo.

“What’s got you feelin’ Grace again, Darlin’,” Joel questions, raising another forkful of meatloaf to his mouth as he speaks.

“Mysterious favors, I reckon.”

He shrugs and tries to give you a smile despite his concerned expression.

“Fair enough.”

After dinner is put away and Sarah’s been tucked in by the both of you, it’s just you and Joel downstairs, sitting at the dining room table in awkward silence, looking up at each other when you can’t stand the silence anymore.

“Joel,” you question, meeting his eyes with your own. They’re darker than usual and the lines around his eyes seem much deeper than they did the day before.

“Yes, Darlin’?”

“JP’s dead. I went home for lunch and…found him.”

“I’m sorry that you saw that. That’s God-awful.”

Something you’ve never felt bubbles up inside you, heavy, sore and unknown, not fear, not anger, but something dangerously toeing the line between them and something positive. There was nothing God-awful about finding someone who had died naturally, sad maybe, but not horrible. God-awful was ruined carpet and a gray splatter across the side of the dresser. Joel knew what you had seen.

It was always Joel, no matter what problem you had, he would take care of it.

“Joel?”

“Yes?”

You drop your voice to a whisper, scared that someone will hear, despite being in his home, terrified that he’d lose it all over you. “Did you do it?”

He drops his gaze from yours. “Did I do the right thing?”

“It’d been me if you didn’t.”

“That’s right enough for me.”

Tears well up in your eyes as they finally meet his gaze again. “I’ll protect you too.”

His eyes fall shut and he sighs, dropping his shoulders.

“No matter what I know you got Sarah.”

“I won’t have to. What’d you do with it? Was it yours?”

“It’s on its way to the Gulf, and no, dug it up on a site last year. Never did know why I kept it. Reckon I’m glad I did though.”

You take his rough hand in yours and squeeze, giving him a soft smile as you get up from the table. He follows without hesitation.

“Joel, I gotta get going.”

“You ain’t scared of me, are you,” he questions, his expression pained, his eyes silently pleading with you.

“I’d never be scared of you, no matter what you do. That day in the bathroom, that wasn’t the concussion talking. I meant what I said.”

Joel’s breath catches and his hand tightens around yours, lifting your arm even with your shoulder. Your fingers stiffen instinctively, and then relax as he presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist and then lets go.

You start making your way to the door and like always, he follows, opening the door for you and leaning on it. His face lacks its usual crooked smile, it’s somber as you step out onto the porch and turn to face him.

“Thank you, Joel.”

“Darlin’?”

“Yes, Joel?”

“Will you pray for me?”

“I’d do anything you asked me to.”

“Be safe gettin’ home, okay?”

“Always do” you call, making your way down the walkway to your car, noticing how Joel watches from the door as you duck in, only closing the door when you start backing out of the driveway.

starletwrites​:

“amelia” leaves his lips in a haughty sigh as she click clacks toward their outdoor area and declan runs two fingers over his eyelids in pure exhaustion. he wrestles with himself for a moment, whether it’s worth the fight so close to bedtime, before following her out. plunks down at her adjacent on one of the outdoor wicker chairs that came with the place. “you know how I feel about your drinking habits, especially in my establishments—“ the scotch in his glass prevents him from mincing words. she could drain back to back blue amalfis at their local olive garden if she so chose, but in front of his peers and colleagues the expectation was that she remained prim and proper as they come. like she too had been force fed twenty six years worth of lessons in table manners and general etiquette. “how does it look if my fiancé, the woman I’m supposed to be starting a life with, is downing cocktails at the bar like it’s going out of style!”

he knows he’s partially to blame, more than aware that she was equally troubled as she was beautiful before he ever picked out a clear cut diamond to glimmer prettily from her left hand. but he can assume that she didn’t walk into this relationship blind to the kind of man he was either—one from a rigid upbringing, inebriated on power and control, with ultimate awareness of how important keeping up appearances is to maintaining the veneer of perfection that’s been passed down from generation to generation like an antique necklace or a house in the hamptons.

“i know you don’t care what people think but that attitude doesn’t get you very far in this world. it just doesn’t. how many people do you think are gonna want to work with a designer with an alcohol pr—“ his tone softens as he settles on dark irises, had always found brown eyes boring until he discovered so much hidden depth behind hers. a sigh leaves his lips, so exasperated it sounds like it’s been building up for a lifetime, a clear surrender of sorts. because he’s not out to hurt her, only to make her understand. “I’m not asking you to be this perfect lady, and host society brunches and wear skirts down to your ankles. …I just want you to be aware of your actions when you’re in public, of how they’ll reflect on both of us…it’s time to grow up amelia, and start considering our future together”

Lia set herself up, grinding her weed and getting her wrap ready to roll. Wanting nothing more than to face a blunt and go to bed, ready for a new adventure the day held. Everything was stressing her out now, a much different feeling than she had started her night with. Turning to face Declan as he came on the balcony, listening to his words as she rolled her blunt. “It looks like I’m a 25 year old girl spending her time at a bar, waiting by myself for my fiancé who happens to own the bar. I understand you’re busy, and youre working, but I can’t be expected to act a specific way when you yourself are out doing the same thing but your with colleagues so it’s different right?”

Amelia knew what being in a relationship with Declan meant, that she had to be the most upstanding citizen she could possibly be. Keeping her words proper, no cuss words, no slang, full sentences that make sense to everyone. She took more business classes, to learn the language Declan and his colleagues used, having wanted to try and be more involved in the conversations and not sound out of place. Lia had put more time and effort in becoming a different version of herself for the people Declan surrounded himself with, and yet he continued pointing out more things she needed to work on. Time and time again, she had to continue to change.

She pauses her movements, and glances up at him as he continues his words, “First of all Declan, I don’t have a drinking problem. I wake up and go about my life, 9/10 times I don’t drink during the day. I enjoy alcohol, but it takes a lot more than a couple drinks or shots to get me intoxicated. I’m well aware of my own tolerance and how to pace myself after my history. I’ve done more than enough damage in my past life to drink myself into a coma anymore,” having spent a six month stint in and out of the hospital more times than she cared to count before she was of legal drinking age probably wasn’t the best history for the new Coyne heiress. But then again, they neednt know all her business, but Declan did. Amelia understood he was worried, and just wanted to protect her of sorts. But she had been independent far to long to have a father looking over her shoulder and monitoring her intake. “I’ll never be this perfect little princess they hope for me to be, I’ve never been that kind of girl even when I had to hold up my own standards in my family. I’m not gonna pretend to be someone just because people will get upset from something, I’ve done a lot of changing and a lot of pretending with people you’ve brought me around. But if I’m stuck in a bar, you told me to meet you at, and you don’t show up for hours and hours on end, then I’m not gonna sit there sipping water for five hours when I can have a couple drinks. Then drink a couple glasses of water, and then some more alcohol. I’m not an idiot, nor sloppy, never have been. Just an idiot at times,”

She   giggled   softly   to   herself,   amused   by   how   much   a   single   word   affected   him.   Signe   bumped   her   hip   against   his   with   a   playful   grin.  “Well,  Charlie,”   she   said,   drawing   out   the   syllables   of   his   name.  “You   know   I’m   only   looking   at   you   like   that   because   you   make   it   impossible   not   to.”   Their   bantering   had   grown   more   playful,   more   flirtatious   since   their   first   date.   Which   made   sense   considering   the   boundaries   that   she’d   dissolved   so   quickly   in   his   presence.   And   yet,   it   still   surprised   her   –   how   easy   it   was   to   be   a   less   curated   version   of   her.   Like   he   saw   past   all   of   her   facades   to   the   girl   underneath   and   he   didn’t   balk   at   any   of   it.   It   was   intoxicating.   His   ears   had   flushed   pink   as   he   teased   her   and   Signe   could   only   smile   at   the   sight. He   gestured   towards   the   wine   fridge   and   Signe   nodded,   wiping   her   hands   on   a   spare   dish   towel   and   getting   ready   to   cross   the   kitchen,   when   he   gently   pulled   her   back.   His   lips   were   on   hers   and   Signe   instinctively   melted   into   his   embrace.   A   little   stunned,   she   doesn’t   rush   it   or   pull   away   too   fast.   She   merely   stays   close,   her   hand   placed   on   his   chest,   her   thumb   brushing   lightly   along   the   fabric   of   his   shirt,   anchoring   herself   in   the   moment.   Charlie   pulled   away   and   her   eyes   remained   close   for   a   moment   longer,   savoring   it   before   she   blinked   at   him   slowly.  “That   was   so   rude,”   she   murmured   once   she   found   her   voice   again.  “You   can’t   just   kiss   me   like   that   and   then   go   back   to   casually   chopping   vegetables.  Jesus.”  While   the   words   were   aimed   at   him,   she   wasn’t   truly   expecting   a   response.   There   was   no   heat   in   her   words,   just   the   warm   glow   of   affection.  She   moved   toward   the   wine   fridge,   casting   a   glance   over   her   shoulder   at   him.   He’s   back   at   his   task,   but   smiling   to   himself.   It   was   moments   like   that   –   his   hand   finding   the   small   of   her   back,   the   offhand   kiss   that   left   her   blinking   at   the   wine   fridge   like   she   forgot   why   she   opened   it   –   they   meant   so   much   to   her.   Her   hand   hovered   over   the   bottles   before   she   settled   on   one   with   a   pale   pink   label.   She   notices   the   way   he   looks   at   her.   Notices   before   whenever   she   turns   to   look   at   him,   he’s   already   looking   back.   Signe   was   scared   of   getting   use   to   the   feeling.   What   if   a   day   came   when   he   saw   all   of   her?   The   parts   of   her   that   doubt   joy   and   second   guess   everything.   What   if   that   day   came   and   he   changed   his   mind? Signe   allowed   herself   to   look   at   him   again–his   hair   messy   from   running   damp   fingers   through   it,   his   sleeves   pushed   up,   and   that   ridiculous   little   smile   on   his   face   like   he knew   she   was   watching.   Something   inside   of   her   quieted   at   the   sight   of   that   smile.   She   liked   him   so   much,   and   she   wasn't   going   to   ruin   that   by   over   fixating. With   the   wine   selected,   she   walked   back   over   to   Charlie,   holding   the   bottle   up.    “Did   you   want   to   open   it,   or   should   I?   I   can   do   it   if   you   point   me   in   the   direction   of   your   finest   bottle   opener,”   she   teased.

Charlie let out a low laugh, shaking his head as he rinsed his hands. "Nah, Signe. You don’t say it like my coworkers do. If they said it like you, we'd have an HR complaint on our hands... Don’t call me chef unless ya want me to start barkin’ orders or critique your knife skills." He glanced back at her with a grin, the warmth in his voice unmistakable. "Just call me Charlie. That’s already more than enough." There was a beat where he looked at her again, saw that wicked little glint in her eye, and smirked. "Though for the record.. if you keep lookin’ at me like that and sayin’ things with that mouth... I have a hard enough time with one knee. You might knock 'em both out from under me." He raised a brow, "Right, right.. movin’ on," he laughed, hands raised in mock surrender, the tips of his ears just the tiniest bit pink.

He took the bowl from beside her and turned toward the sink, but as always, he didn’t stay away long. There was a pull to her. Undeniable. Like gravity had adjusted to her. "Whatever you put together, I’ll love it," he added more softly now, rinsing the bowl. "I like that you cared enough to stress over it. It means something. That’s all I’ll say or I’ll start gettin’ sappy and you’ll mock me." He bumped her elbow lightly with his own as he returned, moving beside her to start chopping the vegetables. His fingers worked confidently, effortlessly, but his eyes flicked to her with every few slices, like he couldn’t help it.

"Why don’t you head over to the wine fridge?" he asked, nodding in its general direction with his chin, knife still in hand. "I’ve got a few different moscatos chillin’ in there. They’re all kind of the same, but go with whichever label speaks to you." Then he paused, completely mid-chop. "Oh.. wait." He reached for her hand, a gentle tug drawing her toward him in one smooth motion. No rush, just closeness. Just him. And then he leaned in and kissed her like it was something he’d been meaning to do all evening. Nothing dramatic. Just warm, certain, and grounding.

When he pulled back, there was a spark of mischief in his own smile now, but something tender beneath it too. "Just realized I hadn’t done that yet. Didn’t want it hangin’ over my head while you were choosin’ wine," he said lightly, going back to chopping as if he hadn’t just completely short-circuited his own train of thought. His voice was a little quieter after that, but no less sincere. "Glad you like bein’ here, by the way. Feels natural to me, too. Like we didn’t have to work at it. Just… fit." He glanced over again, this time pausing the movement of his knife. "And if your playlist’s even half as thoughtful as your outfit, I know I’m in for it. Might cry. Might fake cry for sympathy. No tellin’, really." He nudged her gently with his shoulder again, eyes lingering on hers. "Go on, then. Pick the wine. I’ll try not to burn anything while you’re gone."

Signe   startled   as   Adriana   erupted   on   the   other   side   of   the   table.   She   ducked   her   head   in   embarrassment,   her   cheeks   flushed   with   a   warmth   that   had   nothing   to   do   with   the   alcohol.   “You   are   too   much,”   she   said   with   a   laugh,   shaking   her   head   at   her   friend.   “I   know,   I   know…   I'm   honestly   glad   that   I   listened   to   you.”   Her   eyes   scanned   around   the   room,   lowering   her   voice   to   avoid   anyone   overhearing   even   though   no   one   was   really   paying   them   any   mind.   The   expression   on   Signe's   face   was   a   cross   between   something   shy   and   glowing.   “God,   I   am   such   a   goner.   I   stood   no   chance.   I   am   in   textbook,   no-way-out-that-man-smiles-and-my-brain-short-circuits   kind   of   trouble.”   At   her   friends   encouragement,   Signe   finished   her   drink   quickly,   leaning   in   on   the   table.   “Okay,   hit   me   with   your   questions   --and   don't   you   dare   climb   on   this   table   because   I   will   pretend   like   I   don't   know   you   and   walk   right   out.”

Adriana practically launched forward in her seat, both hands flying to her mouth as if physically holding back a scream. Her eyes went wide, then immediately narrowed in delighted suspicion as Signe spoke. As soon as the words “he stayed the night” landed, she let out a gasp that turned into a sharp squeal of laughter. "I KNEW IT! I told you to go to the store!" she whisper-shouted, grabbing her glass with both hands and clinking it a little too enthusiastically against Signe’s. "Oh my God, I might start dancing on this table. I’ve been waiting for this moment since you were, like, fifteen. The sparkly eyed gossip, the dreamy sighs, the soft smiles.. you’re doing all of it and I am so unwell."

She shook her head, her grin splitting even wider. "How much trouble are you in? So much. This is incredible. I’m going to need a full play-by-play. No—wait, finish your sangria first. I don’t want you choking when I inevitably start screaming again." Adriana giggled, kicking her feet beneath their table.

wine drinker soul trait

a term under the "x soul trait" umbrella for when drinking wine is your soul trait. the first is for humans, the second for monsters

✘ not an addiction term

{ isola starter call ! || @allhesaid ! }

Max clearly isn't the only one in this world who gets a sick sort of comfort out of watching other people suffer. He's entitled to it, as far as he's concerned; after what he's been through, it's only right that he gets to enjoy himself at someone else's expense. It's what They did to him it's what They're doing to Charlie right now and he can pass that pain along as much as he wants to, thank you very much.

(He thinks about the wave of Hounds that came three days before the completion of the portal. The fear in Wilson's eyes hadn't sparked any sort of joy that time, not like it did before. It's a lot harder to want to see someone hurt when they're sacrificing their safety to keep you alive. When they sacrificed everything to give you back your life in the first place--)

But these wannabe gladiators aren't Wilson, and Maxwell doesn't owe them a single thing. Besides, they volunteered for this, probably. All of the fun of watching people get hurt, none of the nagging guilt and regret for his past actions. What could be better!

He waves over his server, his eyes never leaving the fight.

"A Clover Club, please. Two, actually."

zccming·:

.

“okay…” max began her amendment with plenty of attitude, “don’t blow up my shithole trailer.” satisfied with her new answer, she added, “please.” and flashed a sarcastic smile. she glanced to his hands, wondering if he’d scathed them. though she figured, if it was really that bad, he’d probably say so. 

with the weight of eddie out of the kitchen, max finished up her cleaning. although she was irritated she had to do it in the first place, she forced herself to stop and be appreciative. eddie was only here in hawkins for so long, and they were having their substitute family dinner. no time for grouchiness. it wasn’t lost on her that he didn’t have to come back and visit, but she was always grateful he did. while their experiences in hawkins were vastly different at points, she still felt like he understood her. he understood the feeling of being alienated (more intensely than most at that), and generally speaking, he understood, by some miracle, what max always needed.

she stopped, glancing to eddie from the kitchen. she never did stuff like this with billy. their routine when they were alone typically consisted of billy rushing to dump her off his hands at the first chance he got, usually scaring her with harsh words or reckless driving in the process. eddie, on the other hand, was sat on her couch, making up for his mess in the kitchen by finding them a decent show to watch. despite the fact she ordered him to, max was sitting in the feeling of gratitude.

if they were here together and the most pressing matters in hawkins were the unsolved mysteries that robert stack narrated on her television, she couldn’t be all that annoyed. in fact, she’d go as far to say she was happy. 

 now both were nestled with their plates, that happiness quickly became muddled by her momentary aggravation, “i didn’t think you could either, but this is nasty.” she told him, lips pursed. max watched as eddie took a bite and she maintained an unwavering expression of i told you so. “you really shouldn’t need a recipe to make pasta, you know. that’s like…baby stuff.” she then rose from the couch, “pay attention to the tv you’re going to have to fill me in!” max made it clear she was invested in the program. 

it really wasn’t a huge deal. it took all of fifteen minutes and a very oblivious restaurant employee to get their food ordered. when she wrapped up with that, she grabbed them each a beer from the fridge, and for hopefully the final time for a while, max plopped down beside eddie. sighing, she informed, “here.” she handed him his beer, “give the food like an hour. hope you’re not hungry.” her eyes flicked to the screen for a moment as she took a sip of beer, then asked, “what’s this one about? is it a real mystery or another case of the incompetent coppers?”

+++

“ ‘baby stuff’ ?”, he echoed with feigned outrage. “max, i nearly lost a finger in there. cuttion onions and shit is like, hard.” with a proud grin, however, eddie leaned back, folded his arms behind his head. “but i didn’t even cry. ‘cause i’m hardcore. if this is such ‘baby stuff’ then why don’t you do it yourself, smartass?”

well, it was eddie who’d wanted to do something nice and thoughtful for the both of them. and as disappointed and frustrated as he was with himself that he couldn’t even cook a simply pasta dish, he was equally happy and glad that they could joke about it now so easily. 

eddie had grown up alone,  his uncle cared about him, of course, more than his parents ever had, but he’d been working his ass off to keep a roof over their head so eddie had grown up alone. lonely, sometimes, too. but looking over at max bitching about his cooking, mumbling to herself incoherently, jumping up to go order delivery. eddie sometimes wondered if, in another life, he’d been destined to be a big brother, growing up in a household filled with laughter and chatter and not a moment’s peace.

this, however, this was nice, too. he’d gladly do it all over again if it meant he got to end up watching unsolved mysteries with max in her trailer, feeling a sense of belonging he didn’t even feel with wayne. eddie smiled fondly, took the beer from her and craked it open. “fuck, you’re an angel, maxine. thanks, man,” he muttered, eagerly took a sip. 

“not sure yet. it’s called ‘sons of sam’. looks pretty incompetent copper-y so far, but you never know.”

characters from "fool me once" album by fable cry

𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤

“Tired of being so sad, tired of getting so mad, baby Stop right now, you'll only let me down...”

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Alcohol Usage .... and Justin Bieber. 🤷‍♀️

10 minutes... 

 The features on the blonde's exquisite face were stone cold, her brown eyes staring at her lockscreen while she waited for a text back from Justin. Weeks passed since their last altercation, when everything ended on a sour but heartbreaking note. Unlocking her screen, she checked her messages again only to find they were left unread. Her gaze turned to the house they once shared, seeing the hallway light illuminating the center of the house -- he was home but refused to acknowledge her. A strained breath left her lips and she threw her hands up in defense.  Hailey played it by his rules for years, at least she owed it to herself to get the rest of her belongings and Oscar back into her care. Unlocking her car, she let herself out of her Range Rover and released another sigh to steady her racing heart when she stood in front of the house. Her sneakers hit against the pavement while her fingers shakily fidgeted with the key. Maybe with her luck, Justin wouldn't be home after all. 

Her fingers wrapped around the doorknob, praying under her breath this would be seamless while she inserted the key. Fiddling with the knob a few times, the model cursed under her breath while she turned it once more. Click. Finally. Stepping in quietly, the waft of his cologne greeted her and it instantly crushed her. Her heartbreak shattered harder, her pain growing unbearable while it burned through her veins. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill. She breathed shakily, glancing around  their living room. She wanted to surrender, she wanted to fight. Hailey never gave up easily, not when it came to the people she loved.  Justin’s voice traveled down the staircase, causing Hailey to perk up as a force of habit. Tightening her lips, the blonde struggled to contain herself. She knew she had to constrain her itch to run to him and mumble apologizes, especially when she heard a female voice answer back.

Her sadness suddenly replaced itself with infuriating rage, seeing red. Hailey stalked upstairs to her closet and yanked her suitcases out. She didn't care, she didn't want to think it through and she would rather be caught dead than work it out with him now. Piling clothes into them, she didn't have a plan or cared to be organized when the voices got louder. Giggles boomed from the bedroom, tears springing to her eyes once again. Her breath got shallower and panicky because she didn't want to face him or whoever the hell his mistress could be. Zipping one of the suitcases, she moved to the next while hangers were thrown everywhere and she focused on grabbing the basics. A bark sounded through the walk-in closet, breaking Hailey from her frenzy while Oscar whimpered and greeted her. Kneeling down, she gathered the pup in her arms and ran her fingers through his fur. "It's going to be me and you now, okay?" the blonde whispered, choking back a sob at the realization of how fast everything was ripped out from underneath her feet. She was done, she was out of this. Hailey wanted nothing to do with Justin, not when he moved on and clearly never loved her in the first place. 

Wheeling out her suitcases after letting Oscar roam free, she craned her neck to press her ear against the door of the bedroom the couple once shared. Breaths and whispers echoed back, the rage roaming high and scalding through her. Throwing the door open, the female leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. "Nice... real trophy move." she spat. Her eyes gazed over the woman beside him, instantly recognizing her. It seemed like Justin didn’t need Hailey anymore.. it kind of felt like he couldn’t be tied down. Seeing him in basketball shorts and the other femme barely dressed in anything one could consider to be modest, it stung more. Locking eyes with the male, his words surprised her. "You're just now coming to get your things? I knew I should have changed that lock...it's almost like you were thinking me and you might be a thing again?” Was this... the same man she fell in love with or was Hailey completely blind? She watched him while he stood up. “It's about time...she's a lot of fun. No thinking required." 

“So, what are you still doing here, Hailey?” he asked and gestured to the door, causing her to tilt her head in attitude. “You got your suitcase..now leave?" The blonde stammered in complete shock, not recognizing whoever this loser was. Clarification: It was not the male she fell in love with but rather the idiot she made the mistake of saving. "Are you... out of your mind?" she asked in disbelief. Out of instinct, the blonde took a few steps forward but stopped herself. No. She didn't want Justin but she wanted him to suffer the way he caused her to. "I would never be with you again because you're nothing but a joke," she said firmly. If he wanted to be rude, she was ready to throw it back in his face. "You're nothing but the same sixteen year old kid I met those years ago. You're never going to change and frankly, you don't deserve anything...” 

It felt like they were at a stand-off, both of them staring at each other. She knew Justin, he wouldn’t step down... he wasn’t the type. The model contemplated  leaving silently or fighting it out but she knew neither of them would get them on good terms again. A light chuckle fell from his lips when he stepped forward and Hailey did not expect his next words. "I took you in with the goodness of my heart, this whole 'set up' from our parents...?” Justin paused to let out another laugh and Hailey scoffed, putting her hand up to dismiss him. She didn’t want to hear anymore of his lies and began to walk back to the door so she could collect her items and leave, but Justin kept talking. “I felt bad...I knew if I whispered the right words, and treated you good..that you'd fall right at my feet, and guess what, Hailey? You did...and right as I needed you, you came right back." 

Hailey stopped in her tracks. She lost all control over her mind and her actions and before she could register it, the blonde whipped around and  it seems as if her brain decidely thought it would be a smart idea for her to.. .chuck her sneaker at her ex-fiance. "Please... go fuck  yourself!!" she exclaimed. The femme on the bed jumped to his support and Hailey rolled her eyes. Hot on her heels, she quickly left the house with tears falling down her cheeks. She felt used, stupid, and played like a fool. He was the person she gave her all to but he never wanted it. 

Her sobs turned into weeps on the way home and all she wanted was to be alone and face this on her own but her heart broke when she pulled up her driveway. Loneliness was becoming a familiar feeling and alcohol was quickly becoming her dangerous companion. The rest of the night went by as a blur while she replayed the fight in her mind over and over, drinking away her sorrows and pain while Oscar cuddled by her side. It didn’t help that Justin posted a photo and the alcohol spurred her on to post cryptic messages. Eventually, she deleted them and settled on posting a selfie with Oscar to mask her pain. At least, no one would know she cried herself to sleep, right?

𝟏 𝐭𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐚, 𝟐 𝐭𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐚.. 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫?

“She’s not getting drunk for the hell of it, she’s getting drunk to numb the hell out of it.” TRIGGER WARNINGS: Alcohol Usage

The clinking noises of liquor bottles echoed in the empty kitchen, an indication the blonde was reaching for her next vice. Furrowed eyebrows and teeth digging into her bottom lip, the model struggled to concentrate through hazy vision in an attempt to read the label on the bottle. Maybe she was on her fourth drink or maybe she passed four drinks half an hour ago, all she cared about was the numbing she craved. Ripping off the seal and popping the cork, she poured herself another glass of tequila. Her hands shook unsteadily and caused a spill, one that she didn’t care to clean after. After all, Hailey stopped caring about everything because her world stopped when the engagement was called off.

Trudging her feet along the wooden floors of her home, glass in one hand while the other held the bottle, Hailey planted herself outside on her backyard porch. Her house felt like a new place for her to be at considering the blonde always occupied herself with work, only to follow-up with a party after a long day. Blinking a few times to bring her gaze into focus, she could have sworn silence never sounded so loud. Being alone with her thoughts was unheard of, and now it feels like she became a shell of a person. Lifting the glass to her lips, the sweet taste of tequila welcomed her and the liquid slid down her throat.

Tilting her head back, she struggled to fight back her tears. Her entire future, the man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with played her like a fool. She remembered that night when it happened. It burned in her memories: the words he spat at her, the mocking laugh and the exposing truth. The rest was a blur but Hailey packed her clothes and left Justin’s house only to return to the one she was in now. Her eyes traveled down to her left hand, greeted by the diamond on her ring finger. She used to wear it proudly but now it was a clutch. A security blanket, thinking he would come back — Hailey knew he wouldn’t.

She didn’t know if it was the liquid courage or the heartbreak becoming too much that caused her next move. Another sip and Hailey rose to her feet. Struggling to keep herself upright, she spotted a match near her fire pit as she walked across the deck. She slid the ring off, eyes darting around her backyard. Memories flashed of the barbecues and lavish parties the couple threw, but now she was lonely and lost within herself. The blonde scoffed to herself, it didn’t matter to her if she would find herself, she was broken beyond repair — but doing the work was a waste of time and energy. Lightning the match, the blonde tossed it with the pieces of wood. Seconds passed and it flashed with a starting flame.

Hailey knew her worth and it was low. Falling in love with him was a drug in itself but the damage eradicated every ounce of her confidence and mental strength to fight her demons. Tossing the ring into the pit, she stood there while lifting the glass to her lips once more. She hoped this would help her start a new leaf... but those chances looked bleak.

Uchiha Rui

Her name echoes in Chiari's mind all day, haunting her much louder than normal. Her mother, one of the numerous ruthlessly slaughtered that day, was lost to her forever in everything but memory. She wonders whether or not there was a memorial to those lost, a grave, something she could visit if she ever felt courageous enough to return. She wouldn't. Coward. Idiot.

It's not like she could have done anything, even if she hadn't been all but returning from the dead several lands away. She would have been another body to be dealt with, another sorry excuse for a shinobi who could do nothing to prevent the inevitable destruction.

Thinking like this is like spiraling down the drain and she tries to fight the sensation of drowning most days but today it threatens to consume her and she lets it. One day won't hurt. Somewhere at the bottom of this glass was an escape she would continue to chase the rest of the night while the noise of this secluded bar clamoured around her.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom.

Drinking To Excess

tws for alcohol, of course.

"Okay, you've had too much."

"I'm fine, I want another drink -"

"You can barely stand!"

"Oh, I'm going to have such a hangover."

"How late did I stay up last night?"

"Eugh... how much did I drink?"

"My mouth tastes like ass. Not for the usual reasons."

"Someone call me a cab?"

"I'm jus' gonna... lay on the couch for a bit..."

"You're shooo... prettyyy..."

"It's a party! Have a drink!"

"Yeah, I know, I know, but it's just one drink -"

"I'm not supposed to be drinking..."

"Shots! Shots! Shots!"

"A toast! To the person of the hour!"

"What a party! Woooo!"

"Oh, I'm gonna - I'm gonna be sick."

"Nooo I don't wannnaaa lay doooown..."

"Whatcha mean? M'fine, I'm barely drink'd at all."

"I'm fine to driiive."

"... you know I'm sober, right?"

"Give me - give me your keys."

"I'm the designated driver. This is orange juice."

"We should go to the beach..."

"I love youuuu... and you...."

"Let's get a kebab."

"Ohh I'm so hungry..."

"I didn't even - didn' even - drink tha' much..."

"We should do this every week..."

"Wooo! Yaaaay! Hooray!!"

i'm sorry, i'm not ignoring anyone. lowkey my estranged drunk father called me on a restricted number ( i thought it was my friend whose going through a hard time. ) and ur girl is a mess.

house of leaves starters. ୨୧ accepting

❛  i should have known something was up.  ❜ - damon ( @luminescenc1e )

୨୧╼ Through Violet’s trials and tribulations she had seen much of the world. She thought that nothing could surprise her anymore. Especially in an idyllic town such as Mystic Falls. Yet underneath the surface was something unnatural. A curious mind was a dangerous thing, but that had never stopped her before. Inside her welled a craving to explain the seemingly inexplicable things she had witnessed. Ever since she was a child, she had the habit of taking apart things to see how they worked. This was no different.

     “I apologize, I have no idea what you are talking about.” A lie of course, but lies were something Violet had begrudgingly got used to. Sometimes it was a requirement of survival. Despite the woman’s polite manner, she had long ago decided that she’d do anything and everything to do so. “Is this how you greet those new to town?” Though hostility from locals was far from something new. A soft sigh left her lips as she looked into her drink. “I rarely have a night to myself. If you wish to join me for a drink, I’ll allow it. But I do not feel like playing any games tonight – if I did I’d go back to the circus.”

house of leaves starters. ୨୧ accepting

❛  like i already said, drives me nuts.  ❜ - shawn ( @luminescenc1e )

୨୧╼ Shawn was unlike anyone that Violet had ever met. Throughout her perilous journeys there had been an abundance of colorful characters. Yet none of them seemed to be so carefree and full of genuine joy. Even when he talked disparagingly about something, there was a jovial nature to it. In many ways she could not help but be a bit jealous. Despite these feelings being around his positive energy always seemed to bring a smile to her lips.

    Chocolate colored irises looked up at Shawn as he expressed his displeasure. “Do you truly find the dish so displeasing?” For a good portion of Violet’s youth, if what she ate wasn’t poisonous, she was content. “You could always order something else.” Carefully Violet dabbed her lips with a napkin. “Also, I’ve been meaning to ask – “ She lifted the glass which contained a plentiful amount of whiskey to her lips. After a decent sized gulp to steady her nerves. As she still struggled with interacting with others when not in life or death situation. “What exactly is a psychic detective?”

I had this idea that Toki would force Magnus to hang out with him and Rockso.

This is my first time drawing Rockso so be nice about it lmao

Line art wip under the cut

do any of you guys have that thing where it's like ur intoxicated via drugs/ alcohol without actually taking any? like i've genuinely have had multiple people, numerous times, on different ask if i was high or drunk? i have never consumed ANY form of alcohol or drugs or anything. is this an autism thing? or am i just silly like that?