NIGHTCLUB JESUS

[case-callahan]

finneganinqueens :

Banned? Finn’s eyebrows raised in surprise. Of course it wasn’t out of the ordinary for Casey to get mixed up in something he shouldn’t. But Finn hadn’t heard anything about Casey getting banned from Rosie’s. The comment brought up a familiar question that often occupied Finn’s mind when he was alone. How much of Casey’s life was still a secret? Living together didn’t automatically bring him access to all of Casey’s daily life. There were so many nights when Finn was left wondering where Casey was, or where he’d been before he arrived home. Sometimes I think you’ve gone and died too. Finn thought begrudgingly as he walked beside his boyfriend. But he was just being dramatic and he knew it. Casey always came home eventually. 

“Today was alright.” Finn shrugged. “It was all pretty typical stuff. Car wrecks… small kitchen fires… people stuck on their roof…” He was grateful for the slow days though. Major fires didn’t happen very often, and with any luck he’d be able to continue avoiding them. His attempt at going to therapy had been derailed by his run in with Keegan, and he was delaying finding a new one to go to. Facing his fear head on at this point was probably inadvisable. “It’s a bummer not being a lieutenant anymore.” He admitted with a new softness in his tone. “The lieutenant of my squad isn’t very organized and it drives me nuts. I know that I could do a better job.” Finn took a breath and then shook his head a bit and smiled. “I can’t complain though. At least I’m back in a firehouse, you know?” He turned to look at Casey. “Has Oprah told you anything useful lately?” He asked with a cheeky grin. “She’s kind of a master of the universe, isn’t she?” The bar came into sight and Finn held the door for Casey so that he could enter first.

As soon as Finn finally started talking about his day, Casey could relax. He didn’t have to come up with anything to talk about-- What was there even to say after Oprah? I laid at home staring at the ceiling, played some Apex, wasted oxygen, spent time alone with my thoughts. The brief shake of his head was to rid himself of those thoughts when he looked over at Finn with a quirk of a smile, a smile that melted back into a thin line as he spoke. “I’m glad there hasn’t been bigger fires. Work yourself up towards that, you know? Don’t think it’s gonna end well if everything happens at once--” His eyes wandered at that, looking at the street a few blocks down to avoid looking at the reaction Finn would give; It wasn’t often that Casey reverted back to his psychiatrist ways, but when he did it felt pretentious as hell, even if he meant every word. The thought of Finn having another panic attack, or flashback while he wasn’t there to help was nightmare fuel, ad it twisted his insides in the most volatile way. He cleared his throat and straightened himself with a stretch, burrowing his hands in his pockets as he walked,  “--But what do I know, I’m not a shrink. Still, hope you saved some cats from trees too. That’s like, the number one cliche I want to believe in.” He tilted his head to the side and gave Finn a side-eyed glance, a more natural grin gracing his lips this time around.  

  “I can get that, the head psych at Glendale was hazardous, changed patients on a whim and they never knew where they were supposed to--” He paused and took a deep breath, dropping the subject before even getting further in it. “Can’t wait to call you a lieutenant, it suits you. Carries a lot of authority in it, and honestly? It’s hot. Bet Charlie would agree.” Casey chuckled, a hint of malice in the words soon buried underneath another sound of glee when the bar came into view. If it was possible that a place was calling his name, it was now. His fingers itched to get themselves around a cold pint and just down them until he didn’t have to deal with the consequences of his words anymore. “Oh man I’d follow that lady through Hell, what a Goddess. I guess she taught me that I should read more? Some life lessons, like it’s easy to give up on yourself and changing your way of thinking can change your whole life, yada yada, that sort of things.” He waved off with a roll of his wrist before reaching for the door, retracting his hand when Finn got to it first. His hand made a confused jostle around the handle before he slunk inside, holding the door open himself even if there was already another pair of hands already holding it.

  “What a gentleman,” Casey murmured, a small, amused huff coming from his nose before he scanned the whole of the bar. his eyes briefly pause at the corner of the room where he had tackled one of the patron to the ground, nearly splitting their skull open on the edge of the pool table, and he shivered at the memory, albeit briefly. His eyes got used to the dim lighting quickly and he reached back to grab Finn by the wrist, a physical contact he hadn’t offered a whole lot of after his mind went spiraling, now excitedly tugging him over to the counter. The bartender gave him a quick once-over that just screamed ‘oh bloody hell’, but it only elicited a toothy smile from the blonde as the morbid overtones of his being morphing into something more manageable when he placed the order for a double whiskey. When the bartender went for the bottle, Casey expectantly turned to Finn, the fingers around his wrist reluctantly disappearing to dig out the worn-out wallet in his back pocket. “Drinks on me. Gotta be of some use, right? What’s your poison tonight, lieutenant?”

[case-callahan]

johnsonmarg :

Margaret was walking back to her apartment after a date that went all too well, until the end. She met with a girl at a bar and they drank, laughed, and flirted their way to the woman’s apartment. They kissed on her couch, but something felt off and Margaret decided to leave. She felt oddly empty inside, something to do with the way this woman held and touched her sent her back to thinking of Andy, and she didn’t know how to stop. She needed someone who didn’t just feel good for her, she needed more passion and lust. She felt stupid, and sat down on a bench next to a stranger to calm down before she went home. She shook her head, staring forward. “No, I don’t smoke.”

No I don’t smoke. What was it with people nowadays? It was great that they didn’t ruin their bodies, but come on, just this once. Nevertheless, Casey nodded and sighed deeply. Maybe he could borrow some from Finn once he got home, his money had surprisingly enough all gone to booze so three quarters wasn’t going to cut it for a pack. “Right, right, got it.” He cracked his fingers and rubbed his hands together before leaning to his thighs again, running both hands over his face. It was funny how he seemed to meet a lot of people that his brain distantly recognized, but not enough to place names. This woman was no exception, and he turned to give her a glance.

   “You look, as the kids say, shook. You okay? It’s weird from a guy chilling on a bench at ass crack of dawn but--” He shrugged, offering a small smile. “Yeah. You good?”

[case-callahan]

keegan-anderson :

Keegan had been walking home from a night out with one of his pals. He thought the exercise would be good for him instead of taking a cab, plus he didn’t live far from the recently visited bar. He had his hands stuffed within the inner depths of his pockets as he looked down at his feet letting them lead the way along the familiar path he had gone down so many times before. He knew that it was going to rain soon so he was trying to get home as quickly as he could before it caught up with him. 

Keegan stopped in his tracks when he heard a familiar Australian accent, his ears perked up, and his heart sunk into his stomach. He looked up from where he was walking and noticed Casey sitting along side of a bench. God, he looked like shit. He didn’t understand what Finn saw in him. He probably would never understand. “No. Don’t you know that smoking kills?” He rolled his eyes slightly. “Sleeping on the bench tonight? That’s a new low. Even for you isn’t it?”  Keegan had played this scenario in his head over and over again. He would find Casey stumbling somewhere drunk and he would beat the living crap out of him. But seeing him here now was pathetic. Keegan was tired of feeling angry. He was tired of playing out what if situations in his head. He was done with it all. 

If he had had the strength in that moment, Casey would’ve burst into hysterical laughter. How badly did the Gods want to shit on his life on a regular basis? There was a simultaneous flare of anger and defeat in his body, a chill running down his spine while his brain wanted to charge and beat the shit out of someone who made him feel small, useless, replaceable. Keegan was just the kid Casey could’ve been if he hadn’t fucked up. It was infuriating, and sad. What the fuck went wrong, huh? As much as he wanted to get up and forget about the smoke, his body wouldn’t move and he dropped his head into his hands again, fingertips digging to the roots of his hair. The pain was a temporary relief but he still snorted at the comment and raised his head, meeting Keegan’s eyes with a passive smile. 

  “And that’s exactly why I smoke.” He wanted to add how it would help a lot of people if his lungs just collapsed, if the life span he’d been promised would come to an premature end so no one had to care anymore. That delved too deep into a morbid are of his thinking though, so it was left out and Casey sighed, leaning back on the bench, throwing both his arms over the backrest. If the guy was gonna hit him, ample opportunity. “Mh, wouldn’t be the first time sleeping here, you overestimate me. What do you even care, you should be happy, right? Maybe throw a few punches, break a few bones, curse a bit? Wouldn’t be surprised, you’re not the first to do just that.” He chuckled weakly and waved the other man off, head tilting over the back of the bench with a tired huff. He would have welcomed the pain, anything to draw his thoughts away from, well, the thoughts, but starting a fight felt like an uphill battle. The word would travel anyway, not that it mattered, but the last thing he needed was to be chewed out as the guy who randomly attacked his boyfriend’s ex out of, what, insecurity? Fuck no.

  “Besides, you look like a guy with better things to do than talking to me. Doubt you’ve had a change of heart after all this time.”

[case-callahan]

hcatheralcott :

“Nah, I—stopped a long while ago. Sorry, kangaroo.” 

There was some stupid story behind that, she thought, something about being caught and getting her bones mangled as a punishment. But Heather left it in her dubious box, all padlocked unless Casey still remained in-touch with his old, rugged but analytical self and was able to flog through his former patient’s front once again. He seemed distracted, though, no longer soaked in purple and red under a bar’s dim lights, but still detached, which had attracted her attention as she strolled through the park mindlessly earlier. It was one of the nights where sleep felt harder than usual and she didn’t feel like bothering her girlfriend or anyone else for that matter, at least not for now, wandering about ended up being the most appealing option. She could rest again later at the shack, now that she’d actually been attempting a healthier routine despite her occasional struggles. 

Running fingers through her hair, Heather leaned her back against the bench, a hum slipped past hoarse throat whilst she watched him. “Fancy seeing you again, not beaten up too, unless you’re hiding a broken nose or some shit.” 

The familiar voice was usually a positive to many people, but somehow Casey wasn’t one of them when his brain connected the face to the spoken words. It felt like icicles spreading through his lungs, the heat of his body completely disappearing when he took in the sight of his old friend standing there. A friend he had left on read so many times it could be count as illegal by now. He knew he had to run into Heather one day, but somehow he’d hoped he’d be drunk, or at least high when that happened. She was too intuitive for her own good, and somehow that felt like a threat. He was supposed to be the bigger man, get into her life and help her. Guess that went awry anyway, no reason to dwell on that. None at all. His gaze still flicked over her from head to toe before turning to his crossed fingers. He could still play the whole thing off like he would with Finn, with Roland, with most of his close friends nowadays. 

  “Damn, good for you. Does no good for your lungs, that’s for damn sure.” He chuckled and ran a hand over the left side of his face, smoothing back his hair in the process, leaning to the hand one propped against his thigh. She looked better, but the ‘long ago’ comment stuck with him for a while, eyes questioning when he thought back on what she used to be at Glendale, and how much more before she had stopped her smoking. Why, where, who, the questions piled but Casey was glad to be given an out from the questions when she spoke up again, drawing a tired chuckle from him. Casey shook his head and dropped his hand back against his leg and looked at the ground, a half-smirk playing on his lips as he spoke, “Yeah, you would remember that. Nah, not hiding anything, got a few bruises lingering but that’s it. Nothing broken!” It was an artificial glee, the tone he pulled out of the depths of his soul, but it drove its point. After going home with enough black and blue to be classified as a piece of modern art, there had been yelling, arguing, defense and offense, mentally draining fights that he didn’t need, that Finn didn’t need just because he made his choice to love a trainwreck.

  “You were always an early bird, but this early? What are you doing out here, polar bear? Trouble sleeping again?” It was too straightforward as far as his shrink side could tell, but she had never really been  patient, but  a friend. And friends worry about friends, right?

[case-callahan]

lexus--cain :

Lexus had been out all night and it showed. Her hair was a mess, her makeup was smudged, and her heels were giving her burning blisters–she didn’t take her shoes off, though, because the only thing worse than blisters was walking around barefoot on the disgusting streets of New York City. When she finally saw a bench, she didn’t hesitate to take a seat, not too worried about who else she was sharing it with. She needed to rest for a few minutes before making the final part of her trek back to her apartment building. She was checking her phone when the scruffy man addressed her and asked for a smoke. “Uh, yeah, actually I do.” She went into her bag and retrieved her pack, taking two cigarettes out as well as her lighter. After she lit her own, she handed him the cigarette and the lighter and said “Here you go.” She took a long drag and held it for a moment before breathing it out through her nose.

The relived slump of Casey's shoulders was almost audible when she carried smokes with her. Nicotine would be sure to ease the nervous leg jiggling that was starting to present itself and the blonde accepted the smoke with a quirk of his lips and a nod, casting a glance at the woman. She looked... Much better of than him, in terms of a successful night, and he felt almost envious. The psychiatrist side of him wanted to ask if and why she was out alone, but he kept the curiosity to himself, no one wanted a prying stranger anyway, you’re not that type of person anymore.

  “Saved my night, thanks,” He wiggled the smoke between his fingers before placing it between his lips and lighting it after a few painfully awkward attempts. The first hit felt like heaven and Casey thumped his head back against the bench with a sound thump, the smoke seeping through his lips and nose in a slow, steady stream. He slung his arm over the back of the bench, not on the woman’s side at least, but his head lolled to look at her better. Not that he was positively sociable with anxiety mounting his every though, but he still felt that old curiosity and it made him open his mouth, 

“Thanks again. Had a good night so far?” It felt like useless small talk and a frown etched itself on Casey’s brow before his eyes found themselves back towards the clear night sky, following the few stray clouds passing over the horizon. This had been easy once upon a time, why was it so hard now? “If you don’t mind me asking. Stranger danger in a small park, isn’t it? Sorry ‘bout that.”

[kimkibumily]

Barbie: Go Now

[case-callahan]

Can I vent for like 2 minutes?

I got some fucked up schedules from the 10th to the 16th. Fucked up. No days off, that's 7 days in a row and it all culminates on the 16th when I have a God Damn 16 hour shift, me being both the opener and the closer. But that would be fine if, IF, I had the next day off to charge myself but nO. They put me in opening shift the next day too. So its 8 days in a row I lied. My shortest shift in 10 hours. My supervisor has four days off, and my man got the other four. We are the only emplyees working full time, our extras aren't qualified to work alone.

I swear I'm about to throw down. I'll throw fists. I'll throw kicks. I'll throw myself, right off the balcony. It's a summer schedule, sure yeah, but pls. I amn just..... a litle creacher. Thatse it. A creacher who need a sleep once in a while. My travel to work takes 2 hours. All that time working and add 4 hours to it overall. 16+4. Is 20. I get to sleep like. Four whole hours. Before I have to drag myself up, feed my cat, feed myself, drink coffee, shower, get my clothes on, start the car. Not counting the imminent traffic jam.

I am. So tired.

I have four days off before this Hell Week and that's when I'm gonna unwind and write my fingers to the bone. Some positive yo.

Alright rant over. Sorry I complain about work all the time it's all I focus on p much nowadays. Social life went from 40% to 0% real fast.

[case-callahan]

cywreck :

He needs to go home. It’s late, rehearsal is over, everything is almost ready for the festival season to be kicked off on Saturday and the bags are packed for his trip with Heather and still, he had the feeling cocooned deep inside his chest that going home would mean having trouble going to sleep. Having trouble going to sleep would turn into a repeat of a nightmare that woke him up and sliding out of bed to keep his wife from waking, pace around the living room in the dark and humming one of his songs to himself under his breath, hands to his forehead, begging to a God he was uncertain he believed in for years now that he wanted to stop thinking about it. I’m gonna take my pills and take a bath. There’s no fucking point to any of this. The words rang in his head, interstitial with the night he had turned back at the threshold of the tour bus to gaze at Orion, already half-drunk and prepared to flee to the nearest party. Don’t wait up. Will you be okay? The curve of Orion’s scarred lips, a rasping voice returning to him I’ll be fine. Round and round his mind went like a carousel, pinging off the past, can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop thinking about Tessa in the casket with her pigtails and knowing it’s the last time he gets to see the peaceful smile– Get some sleep, get some fucking sleep.

You don’t happen to have a cigarette?

Stunned out of battering thoughts and stopping in his tracks, the park bench barely illuminated by the flickering bulb, his mismatched brown-and-green eyes fixating on the stranger in the hoodie almost curled into himself on the bench. Initially, his fight-or-flight instinct set off, a result of the bad experiences he’d had with strangers during his partying year. Strangers had poor intentions for guys like him, seemingly easy targets to pick off, scrawny build and six-foot-one, although with his makeup on, his hair done, he held a more intimidating air about him, especially with the cloud looming over his head. Hand on his hip for a moment with a skulking frown, Cyrek inhaled sharply and produced the pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his black skinny jeans, lifting the long-sleeved black mesh top to reach it. “Yeah. You need a light too?” Holding out a cigarette to him and removing the cigarette from behind his ear, he decided he might as well take a break on his walk through the park. Fixing the heavy metal padlock around his neck, he lit his cigarette and leaned against the bench, offering it to the man.

The guy seemed to take his time making up an opinion of him. Couldn’t really blame the stranger, Casey knew he looked like shit, coming down from his drunken stupor. The scrutiny was returned the same way and Casey narrowed his eyes to take a look at the man. He didn’t look like a threat, not in the common sense of the word at least. Reminded the blonde of his youth, with the crazy getup, makeup and punk-rock outlook. He never dared to dress like that when he was younger even if his mentality was on level, and the memory made him quirk a short smile when he accepted the cigarette. “Nah, I got light. Thanks mate.” He held the cigarette up before placing it between his lips, proceeding to pat down the front of his jacket to find the zippo he knew he stole from the bar an hour earlier. The deal with stealing lighters is that he never knew if they worked, but this one took two hits before finally helping him satisfy the need for nicotine screaming in his veins. He let the smoke seep out through his parted lips and tilted his head back over the bench, the hoodie falling off and introducing the cold to him again, a reminder that it was late and he should be at home. Finn was gonna lose his mind. Shit.

“Thanks, really saved my evening.” He chuckled and brought the cigarette up in front of his eyes, eyeing the cancer roll with a smile before glancing at the guy again. Casey knew he was too sober to be properly sociable, but the silence was a bigger threat than attempting a conversation. He could just up and leave too, but his legs refused to drag him home to face the shame it would induce, so; “I like your style. Making a statement, an artist? The young punk in me wants to ask for an autograph just to be safe,” He took another drag and blew it out through his nose, eyes turned back to the heavens to avoid a weird eye contact. “Sorry if that’s weird. Won’t hold it against you if you decide to power walk away from the situation.”

[leavingubehind]

[case-callahan]

  The night chill had never been a friend of Casey’s even if his spontaneous endeavors always took place after the sun had long ago set and the lights of the apartments far above gone dark. The moisture was clinging to his beard, the atmosphere promising a thunderstorm in the near future with heaviness in the air while he slowly makes his way through Cunningham Park, his leather jacket pulled tightly around his body to ward off the worst of the cold. His phone pings for the fifth time that night, reminding him that he should be at home, in bed, somewhere entirely else and not wandering aimlessly with a fading buzz and a budding headache. 

He’d already set sights on a nearby bench and shrugs the hood of his hoodie further over his eyes when another drunken person stumbles past him, yelling profanities in their wake when their arms collide. It’s a common occurrence and he didn’t bother looking back when he finally got to the bench and planted himself down with a tired huff. Another ding came from his phone to accompany the chirp of the early morning birds and a stray honk somewhere withing the city, but the one sound that got Casey’s attention was the sound of footsteps slowing down close by. He’d already moved his hands to cover his face but decided to scoot aside if that someone wanted to sit down on the dew-wet seat. When the silence had dragged on long enough, he propped his elbows against his thighs and crossed his fingers. 

“You don’t happen to have a cigarette? Could really use one.”

[case-callahan]

rolandtucker-chalet :

Roland trailed behind him, though eager to stay close up with him. It was nice to be close with someone he’d know in the hardest period of his life. It was trying time for him, though they had made it back out longer. it was a new feeling, to think back to that time and not be struck with pain and regret. “Okay! Sounds fun.” He tried not to sound too much like a child, though that was inevitable for his naturally childish aura. “Thirty? That’s not old?” Roland wasn’t just trying to flatter him now. “Gotta wait until you’re atleast fifty to say you’re old. Plus, men just become handsomer as they age so I don’t know why you’re complaining. Aging with style.” Roland fixed the messenger bag on his hip, hand sneaking in to just to make sure he had his wallet and some ID. He still didn’t have the pleasure of going places without being asked to see his age. Back home in France, he’d able to drink for a long time. Not that he had much experience - he’d gotten drunk a few times in college and regretted that all instantly. But now he was a man, and he was being welcomed into the men’s club for the first time by someone who just gave off the sense of masculinity that he always envied. “Not married… It didn’t work out.” That had ended very quickly, the tension between the two wasn’t working. It gave Roland the reason to leave the city he needed and do what he needed to become his final form. “Doing art, yeah, and hoping to get into a show. Uh, how about you though? Seeing anyone? Married? Joined a cult?”

“Thirty three, actually.” Casey corrected, drawing out the e of the three to make a point. He knew that it wasn’t that old, but the age still wanted to catch up to him with the sneaking laugh lines and exhaustion (though that could be just his irregular sleeping patterns or lack of proper exercise but let’s not be nitpicky). “Here’s a fun fact about Australians: We don’t age like fine wine. More like, really old cheese. Or tomatoes. But thanks anyway, the beard hides a lot.” He scratches the bush of a beard he’d been steadily growing since his descend into madness, proud that it didn’t look like a messy birds nest anymore. It helped blend in some bars as well, a lot of people still remembered the mess he was when he went off and started fights, which he had to promise he wouldn’t do today. That side of his psychiatrist self was still tagging along and he felt the need to keep his ex-patients safe, even if they were in a much better place than he was. 

“Ouch, sorry about that. Never really understood getting married, but then again I’ve never seen anyone happily married. Sorry anyway, you’ll find someone who deserves a good kid like you some day.” The reassuring vocabulary had vaned over the years and Casey cringed at his own choices of words. It could’ve been more eloquent, but the damage was done. At the question he paused and rolled his shoulders, brows creasing into a thoughtful frown-- He wasn’t really fond of telling old friends about his relationship with Finn since most of them seemed to harbor the thought that he was the one that ruined everything, a villain. Always the villain. “It’s about time you get into a show, your art was always fucking A. Never did join a cult, resorted to playing Far Cry 5 instead. And yeah, not married but seeing someone. You might know him, Finnegan, big doof?” The chuckle that came out was meant to be uplifting, but it’s still a nervous huff of air. He wasn’t used to this, running around being open about his relationship. Gave people too much ammunition against him. “It’s good, it’s good. Working things out but nothing else to report. Hey, we’re here!” Casey stopped and bummed a light from one of the patrons standing outside and lit up his cigarette after long last. “So what’s your poison? First drink’s on me, maybe seconds too.”

[case-callahan]

finneganinqueens :

They’d known each other long enough that Finn could read Casey. He could tell that his friendly banter with Charlie hadn’t been well received. Finn deserved that suspicion though. Their trust was still new and tenuous. After all, Finn had cheated on Keegan to get back together with Casey. And neither of them had led very upfront and honest lives before their reunion. Still… Not a fan of obnoxious blondes. That’s why I hate myself. Yikes. There was a lot to unpack there. Too much for Finn to fathom by far. He tried to control his face and not give away his concern.

Casually his boyfriend leaned against the lockers, a vision in leather, and Finn focused on that. He was reminded just then of how lucky he was that the two had reconciled after the year of silence and bitter grudges. Seeing Casey was a privilege. One he still wasn’t adjusted to. Finn could feel his heart hammering as he slowly, mentally began to feel the pressure he was putting himself under. He didn’t deserve this connection. Not after what he’d done. His meeting with Keegan was still echoing in his head. You’re fucked up, Finnegan. 

“Yeah, happy hour sounds like a plan.” Finn agreed quickly, nodding and offering a small smile. “The company sounds like the best part to be honest. Though, the liquor itself is a close second.” Finn shut his locker and headed toward the door, making sure to keep stride with Casey. “Rosie’s is just down the block, yeah?” Finn knew that a few of his squad members often went there after shift.

A joke not well received and Casey can sense it in the air. Even if it was just a brief jab against his own insecurities and miserable self-image, it caught on and would stay to brew into an argument later on. He had worked on that, not getting too dark with the self-deprecation, or blowing up at the slightest sign of someone feeling pity for him. Months ago it would’ve turned him into a mess of insults and threats, a thug trying to prove he was fine. Now he resorted to tightening his fingers around the lining of his pockets and letting the heavy atmosphere roll over him without settling in. 

“Yay, happy hour,” Casey chuckled and pushed himself upright from the lockers. About time too, the chatter at the station was starting to get on his nerves. People walking around looking like literal Greek statues while his body started to point out the flaws in his own diet and physical deficiency. He shook his head and released the death grip of his pockets and ran both hands over his face as he turned to head towards the door, sidestepping when he almost ran into another firefighter on their way to the lockers. A tight smile was offered before the hands are once again shoved in his pockets and he hunched over a bit, a reluctantly defensive stance when he falls into step with Finn. 

“You know the place, I’m surprised. Used to spend a lot of time there before I got banned,” He paused “But that was lifted like three weeks ago so it’s fine. It’s gonna be great to see the regulars again, they probably think I went and died or something.” He knew he was rambling by now but being nervous did tat to a guy so he didn’t have to focus on anything else but is own voice until the breeze of Spring evening hit his face. He took a long, relieved breath when the fire station was left behind and his shoulders drop from the tension the further away they got. “But less about me and more about you, you’re the one with a job. How’s today been? Could use some interesting, binging Oprah only helps for three minutes, I’m going crazy. Thank god for beer.”

[case-callahan]

[case-callahan]

I guess an OOC post is in place! Hi to anyone new, I'm Jensen and I'm the resident trash baby since my activity is utter garbage. I'm a Swedish Finn / Finnish Swede and my vocabulary is pretty much that, not up to par with y'all good God you're magnificent yik es.

I've been gone for a long time, mostly dealing with work, relationships, and my budding alcoholism. It's sad but I've gotten on my feet again and I promise on my grandmas grave I'll stay more active from now on, but I have to mention that most of my work days are 12h to 16h so I will be either tired and incoherent, or AWOL. But I want to be here, and I love all of you even if I haven't shown it lately.

Positive is that. My best frient of 4 years just became my boyfriend, and all thanks to working at the same bar. We connected and have a great relationship rn and I never thought I deserve this. We even live in the same part of town! Never have I experienced love this profound and it's going to show in my writing lmao.

Aaaaanyway, if anyone wants to plot, I'm up for it always. And now I'm not disappearing. Cross my heart.

[jonwithabullet-deactivated20190]

[case-callahan]

finneganinqueens :

The familiar face of Finn’s boyfriend brought a smile to the firefighter’s face as he closed his locker and stepped towards him. “Oh you’re not interrupting anything.” Finn shrugged. His blue eyes shone playfully as they met Casey’s. “That’s so considerate of you to come get him, but you know what? I haven’t seen him all day. If you’re looking for someone to share that tequila with though…” Finn stepped closer. “Why don’t you come back to my place?” His teasing grin and the similar lighthearted look on Casey’s face recalled memories of their first few dates. The two ex-coworkers had been through an awful lot in the last two and a half years, but every once in a while that same initial spark still filled Finn’s chest when he looked at Casey.

Even if the brief smile did grace the corner of Casey’s mouth, he didn’t let it grow into a full-blown smile. He pursed his lips, crossed his arms and gave Finn a skeptical once-over. “Aren’t you eager. I was thinking about asking Charlie to join me instead. Do you have a compelling argument against that?” There’s a lilt of a joke behind the words, like any old banter they used to have, and heaven forbid if he was drunk and the jealousy would be evident behind the easy jest. Before Finn could answer the question, Casey broke into a grin and unfurled his arms to bring them up defensively in front of him. “I’m kidding, he’s more your type than mine. Not a fan of obnoxious blondes. That’s why I hate myself-- Anyway--” The hands found their place in Casey’s pockets and he finds support in leaning against the lockers, the leather of his jacket squeaking at the friction. “I was going to ask you to join me for a drink though, not just at home, unless you’re busy with the gun show. Happy hour is starting at Rosie’s in half an hour and I can hear the liquor calling my name. A whole lot of relaxing after a tough day at work, wouldn’t you say? The company could be better but you’ll have to manage.” 

[case-callahan]

rolandtucker-chalet :

Roland’s face felt beat red. It was a bit from an embarrassment, the intense change in his appearance forced so many that he knew to stare at him and try to process his looks. He was never used to being gawked at, at instead was used to being ignored like the wallflower he naturally was. “I’m good.” Roland couldn’t change the essential parts of who he was, the quiet type who’s face turned red. There was only so much that a forced smile could cover - though between the two men they already knew that very well. Roland almost reverted to his old self, though he kept on the air of a man; or at least what he perceived to be the biggest masculinity. “It’s been, uh, maybe three. Or two.” He had lost track of time, especially after leaving Queens for so long and didn’t give himself a chance to go back to that time. “I’m twenty-five. A grown man, on the outside anyways.” He tried to fix the sleeves of his shirt whish he’d pushed up to his elbows. There was a few tattoos there too, covering any mark there might have been on his skin. “I can drink.” He probably shouldn’t mix anything with meds, though he wouldn’t turn it down. “You don’t look any older.”

When the color rose to Roland’s cheeks it was hard to mistake the former patient for anyone else, and that’s enough to coax a brief smile from Casey. “Two years, huh. Time flies,” When you’re a miserable drunk, yeah. He trailed off and tilted his head to the skies, taking a breath to memorize the best and worst of those two years, things to keep under lock and key from patients he used to care about. The mention of Roland’s age got him to turn his attention back to the kid and he positively beamed. “A grown ass man, I like that. Come on, I know the best place for drinks around here. Cheap, the staff knows me,” He gestured behind him and turned on his heels, shoving his hands in his pockets as he went. He spared a quick glance over his shoulder and spoke up as soon as he was sure Roland was following, “Ah, stop the flattery. When your digits are double and start with a three, you know you’re getting old. Just waiting on gray hairs by now.” The grin he offers is lopsided and melts away quickly, replaced by pursed lips and a slight lean back to check out Roland’s new tattoos. He didn’t have those in Glendale, did he? “Yeah nah, you’re a man on the outside too, I’d say. Got some ink on you now, bonus points for that, have to tell me the story behind ‘em if you get the chance. Got anything new going on in your life? Still artsy? There was a rumor you were getting married or something, don’t know if that’s true, or if I’m getting people mixed up.” And when booze was in the future, Case got chatty. There was never a doubt about that.