Alright, I am heading off to bed since I am growing very weary at my keyboard and I know that I need sleep. I still have one reply that I need to finish and I will be done with the replies that have been sitting in my drafts for a while (and some of the replies that I saved today or a few days ago). Anyway I will return in the morning. Goodnight, lovelies.
hunter-alexaria replied to your post: —outofsupplies;
[ *Holds you* I get them ALL the time too. If you ever wanna talk about feels, or anything else, I’m here. <3 ]
{outofsupplies;—} Thanks, Paige {cuddles} You’re amazing. :)
Sudden feels attack from nowhere. WELP.
“Never said it was booze,” he returned in a sing song voice. To be frank, he had been completely honest when he had no clue what was in the bottle. But he, being the adventurous and semi-suicidal in the group, had drank some of it and turned out fine. Then again, he always had a thing about staying alive when, in all reality, he should’ve been dead.
Maybe the tone the other used was supposed to make him feel bad, or at least get him to sober him up some. But Emrys was one beholden to none, so he went on and did what he did, because he could and wanted to.
“Come on, where’s the fun in that? You only live once right? Better make the most of it. Especially when a complete strange comes up to you and offers you shady shit in a shadier bottle to help you sleep.” Snorting, Emrys shook the bottle again and shrugged, that air of ego still about him as he spoke. Particularly when he spoke.
“Don’t tell me what to do, princess.”
“I’d rather not.” Dean shook his head, glancing toward the ground below him. He was already living his life the best he could in the middle of the terrible life that surrounded him. He had a brother out there who he knew for a fact was still alive and well, no one could convince him otherwise without a shed of proof.
A yawn left him before he glared at the other, but didn’t bother reacting to their words. “I’m too tired for this shit…” the words were a mumbled that emitted from his as his gaze remained upon the ground. “Do whatever the hell you want, just stay out of my way.” He continued allowed, head lifting to look at the other, green hues narrowed and hard on the other.
☏: Drunk, High, or Emotional Voicemail.
✍: Handwritten Letter.
✉: Drunk or Autocorrected Texts [Specify which!].
❤: A brief explanation of how my muse feels about yours.
♬: A playlist of 5 songs my muse associates yours [or their relationship] with.
☠: One thing my muse would tell yours before kicking the bucket.
“There we go, princess.” Carefully, Emrys shrugged the bag off his shoulders and put on the ground before rifling through it. After a moment, he pulled out a slim, brown glassed bottle and held it up. Shaking it around, a heavy sloshing sound could be heard coming from inside.
“Don’t know what it’s called but you take a few sips and you’re out like a light.” He paused in thought. “Or dead. But what’s the difference, right?”
“Booze won’t do much, believe me I’ve tried. I’m used to it by now.” Dean let out a heavy sigh, running a tired hand over his weary face. “Besides, I ain’t drinking something that you don’t know what it is.” His tone was stern, hints of irritation and exhaustion laced his warble.
”Don’t call me princess.”
Young and Beautiful- Lana Del Rey
“Ah ah. Didn’t ask me real nice yet, did you?”
“Can I please know what this is?”
“You know, if you ask real nice like, maybe I can get you something that’ll knock you right out.”
“Yeah? And that is?”
