fuckin hammered, bro. { mylee }

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jackson thomas [d6m] arc
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fuckin hammered, bro. { mylee } Feb 5, 2017 23:20:02 GMT -5

Post by jackson thomas [d6m] arc on Feb 5, 2017 23:20:02 GMT -5

I knew that from the moment I smelled alcohol in the air that something was wrong. In any other situation, like as if I were at home, I wouldn't worry that much. Alcohol was really what brought me into this world so I can't bash it too much. But at home I know it's out of story. Out of spite; where you were real because there's nobody to actually block you from speaking anything else. When you're intoxicated, you're the you that nobody knew. Maybe even the you that you didn't know.

Intoxication is your own world; the real world to some people.

And that's a world that eclipses around the idea of realism. Not lies. Not deception. A world where not everything is that bad. Because let's be real ; when you have the world to waste by drinking your life away, who wouldn't do that with such an effect?

It didn't take long from when the alcohol hit my nose that I heard a thump -- not so shortly followed by a wailing howl of pain. It made you cringe; that gear-grinding screech. It's something that the mind isn't used to. Nobody is used to hearing the pain of others. Anyone normal that is. A small shift from left to right turned into a dash towards the female after grabbing a few items.

"Not the smartest idea, I can admit that." A small chuckle whispered through my lips before kneeling down. "Need any help with that?" I asked, giving a small 'nudge' with my head in the direction of her foot.

she's drunk, of course she does you dumb fuck.
[ firestorm ]

heather - d2 [mylee]
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last seen May 30, 2023 18:02:03 GMT -5

fuckin hammered, bro. { mylee } Feb 6, 2017 15:27:01 GMT -5

Post by heather - d2 [mylee] on Feb 6, 2017 15:27:01 GMT -5

s h e l b y ♔ l e v i a n e

Though it may be hard to believe, I consider myself the greatest inventor of this generation.

So when the idea of weaponry attached to the sole of the foot came to mind, I could not turn it away. In retrospect, the idea did have a few complications, but I still think the foundation is there. In hand I had a spear, a roll of duct tape, and my left sock. All removed from their original resting places, I set them in a pile beside me while sitting down myself and going to work. It seemed to me that if one simply possessed the flexibility to do so, a blade pointed from just the front could defend oneself in case of attack.

Power of the body comes from the supports on which it stands.

My mind has been faltering since I arrived here— since I shared alcohol with that man in eight and he promised me that problems did not exist if you could not remember them.

The pillars on which my mind rested were being eroded away by a river run rapid with remembrance.

Memory aside, there was no amount of alcohol that could drive the numb burning from my fingertips.

With wandering thought comes actions of the same note, and before realization can rush to my mind my foot is no longer burning numb. Spear tip grazed against the side of my right foot I lean forward to grasp at it, but the trail of blood rushing down to my heel causes a moment of contemplation at the circumstance, while my tongue does all the talking.

Fuck.

I slide the spear away in anger as I scream, and just as it collides with the wall nearby, a voice catches my ear and chuckles, “Not the smartest idea, I can admit that.”

About to retort in annoyance he shuts my voice to silent before I can begin, “Need any help with that?”

Disheveled hair and exhausted eyes I meet his gaze, “I need help with a lot of things, but this is definitely one of them.”