Of all things we can do,

nick-fitzwilliams:

[With his brows up, Nick turns to the other and shrugs lightheartedly.] So I’ve heard. I have accepted my position as an old man with a stick up his ass if that would get some work done. [He sighs at the word ‘grand’ and ‘elegant’, and shakes his head.] What’s tradition when people who could keep it up are dying? [He eyes the glass of water, presses his lips together.] Well, water is quite essential for your body, y’know. Alcohol, on the other hand, is not. I’ve heard that it kinda works for the soul or something, but I’ve never even gotten tipsy, so I wouldn’t know.

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"Well, old man with the stick up his ass, meet the party girl with a sailor mouth and rich parents. Typical, if you ask me." Shrugging her shoulders, she takes another sip of the water and tries to pretend it’s vodka. It doesn’t work. Snorting loudly at his comment, she lets out a long sigh of exasperation. "Let me fucking tell you. Let me fucking tell you. I’ve been saying that goddamn thing for years, now. Spoiler Alert: In the end we all die.” Pausing dramatically, she rolled her eyes and let out another snort. Well, they would all die — it was the reason they were here. But the old man didn’t need to know that. “Water tastes like nothing, boring, bland, blah. Fuck me, you’ve never gotten drunk?” Eyes widened, she opened her mouth and laughed loudly. “Oh God. You present me with a man who has never been tipsy and you don’t expect me to get him drunk off his ass.” Shaking her head in disbelief she squinted her eyes at him. “Alcohol will literally make all your problems go away. When you’re hungover the next day, the problems all come back. Wrapped with a nifty little bow of the worst headache of your life.” Leaning into him, she gave him a mischievous grin. “So… wanna get drunk?”

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1 day ago   4   Reblog




Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions by Alcoholics Anonymous felt heavy in her purse as she switched it from one side to the other. Genevieve had expressed concern with them because of the Celebration Ball, telling them that she was going to be around a lot of alcohol and the demons inside of her were still biting. It had been some time since she had joined and despite her hiccups (so far, she’s been sober for twelve days), her whole demeanor had changed. Yet… being around the alcohol, the waiters with champagne flutes, the open bar — it made her just want to toss everything away and give into her inhibitions. Grabbing an hors d’oeuvre from a plate, she spins around and grabs a random person’s arm to drag them onto the dance floor. “Recovering alcoholic, too much alcohol. Dance with me to make me forget that I want a drink so fucking bad. Kay? Kay.”

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1 day ago   2   Reblog




Of all things we can do,

nick-fitzwilliams:

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we have a freaking ball. [Nick grumbles as he looks over the room disapproving frown. He is not exactly happy about leaving the campus in times like this— Booker has disappeared and that is something that bothers him too— and because it’s a tradition, he had to attend a ball instead of working.] Useless…

Holding a glass of water in her hand, she let out a sour chuckle as she made her way over towards the man grumbling to himself in a corner. “You know, it honestly looks like you’ve got a stick up your ass, standing there grumbling to yourself like some old man on his porch.” Lips pressed to a smile as she turned to face the room, standing beside him. “But look at it, so grand. So elegant. What’s not to love about a fucking great tradition where we celebrate the winners and get drunk off of free alcohol?” Light eyes flickered towards her glass of water and she let out a bitter laugh. “‘cept me, of course. Fucking great. What I would give for some champagne or tequila at this fucking useless piece of shit.”

1 day ago   4   Reblog




1 day ago   12   Reblog




"No, that wasn’t it."

serenalockhart:

{As eyes meet her own, Serena gives a small smile.} I’m glad someone likes it. Rain and snow… I’ve always liked them both.. It’s peaceful until the thunder comes in. {She sighs softly, then, as she’s presented with the opportunity, sits beside Genevieve, back sagging against the cushion of the small couch as she sips her drink, letting the warmth soak into her fingers.} Me? Ah, just a headache. Nothing some caffeine won’t fix. How about you? Why have you ventured out of the madhouse? {Serena keeps her nonchalance. Of course she’d never say anything. After her near panic attack down at the beach yesterday, she’d decided that her old strategy suited her best: Don’t think about it. Not until she was alone and it was unavoidable. Then, she’d allow the time to come. But for now, denial and alcohol would be her closest friends.}

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"It makes me nostalgic. For the times when I was young and Seb and I would run around the house like mad children. Putting on shows and plays and me singing to pop songs and dragging him along with me. We were quite the pair. It reminds me of… good times. Ha — I sound like a fucking sap." Rolling her eyes at herself, she leaned into the comfort of the couch. She could still feel Matthew’s arms wrap around her as he told her that he would help her be better. That he would be there for her. Those arms kept her warm, those arms were… everything to her. "Me? I was at a group therapy session," Genevieve admits freely and without a waver in her voice. Serena Lockhart had proven to be someone that was around at the right moment and so she told herself that she’d trust more. Actually trust people, not the shitty ones she had been giving out. “Talking about my feelings, because apparently keeping them in fucks with your brain and your insides and you get all crazy and end up in the mad house. Granted… we’re already in one.” Laughing at herself, she let out a breath of air. “Serena, I’ve been wearing that face — that look on your face for a long time now. I know when shit’s not actually a fucking headache. That’s shit is as much as a headache… like, as much as my vagina is a fucking penis. It’s not. Thank god, too. Multiple orgasms, hey, ho.” Wiggling her brows, she laughed.

1 month ago   5   Reblog




"You are not the heaviness
sitting inside of you.
You are not the battlefield
where the bodies fall,
and you are not the sound of cannons
breaking the sky open.
You are what happens after the war.

The surviving.

The healing.

The rebuilding."

—Y.Z, for the bad nights
1 month ago   1   Reblog
  #quote  #quotes  #me




Ah, awesome

greg-booker:

Try what? What’s the fucking point? [Greg scoffs loudly, keeping his not-so-happy look. The question was straightforward as his words. But fuck, he hates all the cordial, civil conversations. It’s better this way.] Do you want the nice answer or the straight answer? Because I can only do the latter. Derek was in charge of the former. [He says with a sneer-like smile. However, the truth is that Greg doesn’t hate Woodsen or anything. She just reminds him of Derek, and he hates that. She’s just annoying, but he has a merry band of annoyance around him— Morrison, Slezak when she’s bored and such.] Well, you asked for it. No, I don’t value you as a friend. No, I don’t necessarily want you here. I think it’s best if we stay the fuck away from each other. It’s fucking obvious that one of us will kill the another some day. [He says calmly, flatly. It’s just a fact, an observation he has made after their last talk. But, fuck, Derek would have fucking cut his throat and thrown him in the ditch if he continues treat her like this.] But, you’re that idiot’s friend. That’s good enough reason for me. I owe that fucker. So, yeah. If that’s not enough for you, then I suppose you can fuck off. If not… well, whatever.

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"You’re a fucking asshole," Genevieve replies flatly, her eyes coming together. She wished she could just will Greg away, but she knew this was a conversation she had to had. Normally she would be level headed in these kinds of situations, apologize after throwing her fit and go on about talking about guys’ asses and how perfectly juicy they were. But when she looked at Greg… she expected Derek to come strolling on by to sling his arm around Greg. Stop being a fuckin’ jerk, asshole. Derek would say and he would laugh and the three of them would go for a beer or something. Maybe… the two of them just couldn’t be friends without Derek there. He was the glue that held them together. “You know what, fuck you. I value you as a friend, I look at you and I see someone I want to help and protect and you —.” Shaking her head, her hands rub at her temple as she turns takes a step towards Greg. “All Derek and I — All your fucking friends just want you to be fucking happy. You put on this fake wall of, ‘Oh I don’t give a flying fuck so fuck the fuck off’, but we’re not fucking stupid. Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass, you’d be a lot fucking happier!” Throwing her hands into the air, she huffs and closes her eyes, shaking her head. “Your brother was a good man, Greg. He put up with your shit and worried about you the most. Now — now who the fuck is gonna look after you? You obviously can’t do it yourself.”

1 month ago   24   Reblog




"No, that wasn’t it."

serenalockhart:

{She’d taken to drinking. Alcohol consumption had lulled her into a restless sleep, and now the afternoon had found her searching a different sort of drink. Standing in the coffee shop, Serena definitely isn’t the pinnacle of glamour. Hair tied into a simple knot atop her head, escaping strands here and there, she’d managed to pull on a sundress with a cardigan and slip on flats that she was pretty sure didn’t match before leaving her room in search of solitude. It was only after she’d made it out that she’d even realized her lack of eye makeup. But, that was the least of her worries. She’d managed to slip out of St. Mary’s without a peer chaperone, seeking solitude. Even if she didn’t want to think, she had to. So, Serena orders the strongest thing on the coffee menu and has turned to go when she spots a familiar face. Perhaps solitude can wait. Exhausted eyes land upon Genevieve, and Serena nods towards the window. The weather. Forever her go-to topic of conversation.} Sorry about the rain. Mind if I sit with you? {She tries to sound as casually conversational as possible, despite her appearance. She certainly wouldn’t be discussing it.}

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The sound of the rain hitting against the window was enough to entrance her. She hadn’t even realized someone had came to sit next to her, until her brain registered that she knew the voice. Brows furrowed together and she glanced towards the redhead, a smile smile on her lips. “I love the rain, it’s my favorite fucking thing. The sound of it hitting the windows, the gutters, the roofs. It’s fucking… peaceful.” Eyes looked over Serena and she raised a brow - the girl was normally dressed to impress, but Genevieve knew what it was like to get up in the morning and feel like… well, like shit. “Seat next to me is always welcomed for you to take, Lockhart.” Taking a sip of her coffee, she pulled the sleeves of her sweater down and looked over at her with sincere eyes. “What’s hurting, m’dear?”

1 month ago   5   Reblog




Ah, awesome

greg-booker:

Oh, great. It’s you. [Greg could have faked a bright tone, but he just can’t be fucked. He doesn’t look at her way. He isn’t particularly interested in dealing with Genevieve Woodsen in his sober state.] What do you want, Woodsen? Wanna punch me in the face? Kick my ass? I don’t blame you, but I’m not gonna take back what I’ve said.

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"It’s been a fucking month, Booker." Frowning, she rolls her eyes and blows out a breath of air. "You can’t fucking try?" Shaking her head, she glares at him and crosses her arm at her chest. All this fucking time she had thought that two of them were friends, that despite the fact that they had become friends was because she was friends with Derek first… she thought they were friends. Genevieve valued Greg as her friend and he didn’t give two shits about her. “I’m in…” she hesitates. Alcoholics Anonymous, Community Therapy. "… Do you value me as a friend, Greg? Do you want me here? Because if you’re going to act like I was only ever friends with you because of Derek, then I don’t fucking need that around." Let go of the poison in your life. The people who only hurt instead of help, the said. You can’t heal if you have an open wound.

1 month ago   24   Reblog




"No, that wasn’t it."

"Marble Mocha Macchiato is what I wanted not, not this… mocha mocha crappy business. Too much sugar, not enough coffee. Fix it." Handing the coffee back to the lady, she let out a breath of air and rubbed her eyes. From Genevieve’s and Matthew’s last conversation, she had ended up reaching out into the city for those who were going through depression. It was kind of weird and strange, but it gave her an outlet of her emotions where she knew she wasn’t bringing anyone down. And her parents didn’t have to know what was going on, because surely her parents would manipulate her emotions into her not feeling anymore. She needed to get through this herself. "Thanks," she muttered when the lady finally got her order right. Moving to the window where a little couch was that allowed two to sit, she sat there to the side and pulled her knees to her chest. Sipping on her coffee, she proceeded to look out the window. “I still remember you,” she whispered, watching as water droplets started to collect on the window from the light drizzle of rain. “I miss you, too, Jerry.”

1 month ago   5   Reblog




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