broken glass

banks rainier. twenty six. a bastard.

[drkvlght]

❀ *ﾟ archie renaux. cis man. he/him. demisexual. ⇝ hey, isn’t that banks rainier ( shadow )? i think that the twenty six year old from seattle, washington works as an apprentice tattoo artist at lightning griffin tattoos, underground fighter at scaredy cat club, & a member of the bastards, but outside of that people describe them as bruised knuckles & feelings, cigarette butts, disheveled clothing, fighting outside bars, bloody lips, black eyes, & seeing red. i hear they are rash & unstable, but they are also known to be clever & straightforward. consider giving them a visit at their home in the seal harbor apartments and get to know why they’re called the crimson.

BASICS

FULL NAME: Banks Halen Rainier

NICKNAME(S): n/a

BIRTHDAY: July 3rd (Cancer)

AGE: 26

RELIGION: Agnostic

APPEARANCE:

HEIGHT: 6′1″; athletic build

HAIR: black ; cut short

TATTOOS: one on his chest that he got himself before he turned eighteen

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: he has quite a few scars littered across his body

STYLE:

pure grunge x hand-me-downs. a lot of his clothes were leftovers when his father moved out because he doesn’t have the time or the money to buy himself new things. work boots and flannel. he is lucky if he can make it a week without wearing the same thing twice unless it’s ruined or dirty beyond repair (but even then, he’s probably stuck with it for another few weeks/months).

wears a chain around his neck that he keeps hidden under his shirt. it contains a cross that his mother gave him when he was younger.

LIVING SITUATION

lives in the seal harbor apartments ; definitely needs a roommate

WORK

works as an apprentice tattoo artist at lightning griffin tattoos

moonlights as an underground fighter for extra cash 

member of the bastards gang

ABOUT:

tw: abandonment, drugs, death, violence, blood

He was born in Seattle, Washington to a couple that weren’t ready to have a kid, let alone end up with three by the time that Banks mother left home. Banks was nine at the time and he learned by the age of fifteen that their mother was gone for good. His father never wanted to talk about what happened, but as he got older, Banks was able to piece together that a drug addiction had claimed his mother’s life. 

Banks took over taking care of his younger siblings, both too young to know what was going on at the time and as he got older, he was able to pick up odd jobs around town from people that were willing to pay under the table.

His father never spoke to him much growing up, often choosing to ignore Banks in lieu of his younger siblings and even making decisions like moving them from the home they knew to a new one in the blink of an eye. They moved a few times when he was younger, moving from one apartment to a home to something that seemed too good to be real when him and his siblings all were in a place where they could have their own rooms.

He didn’t know it at the time what business that his father had gotten into as he got older, but it wouldn’t always stay that way. Things never seemed to be aired out between the two of them, often resentment and anger was left unchecked and came out in arguments and full blown fights as Banks would leave for a day or two before coming back.

School was an afterthought. Fighting, truancy, detention, and community service took up the bulk of his childhood and teenage years until his father remarried and the whole dynamic changed. There were new people in their life and he watched as his father seemed to become a whole new person around these people that were now supposed to be his family. 

Banks took more of a step backwards from everyone then, choosing to isolate himself when he couldn’t reconcile the anger that he’d felt build up over the years and pass it off as anything else in the light of a new start for everyone else.

He knew that his father had gotten involved with some people that were changing all their lives, but he wasn’t sure if it was for the better or if everyone else was good at faking it because they could afford everything that they couldn’t when he was a kid. His siblings were living a lavish lifestyle, enjoying every moment because they couldn’t remember what it used to be like when they were younger.

And Banks couldn’t forget. 

It didn’t last long though, even when he came to accept that this was the new normal that included a step mother and sister because eventually the other shoe had to drop. One night when he was out, tragedy struck their home and claimed the lives of his father and step mother. 

Everything that his father had been in the middle of finally caught up with him and took their picture perfect life and shattered it in one night. The deals that had been made weren’t being held up on his father’s end and the people that he worked for came to collect. 

Their family was broken, pieces scattered all over the place and Banks was gone. 

He resurfaced in Las Vegas.

A kid on the streets with some ill gotten cash in his pocket that helped him along until he managed to find a job pushing a broom and working the front desk at a small tattoo shop off the strip. 

It was there that he met Mel, who quickly became his best friend and the one person in his life that he would do anything for after having lost everyone else in the time prior to landing there. They were inseparable for a spell and everything seemed to settle once more for Banks. It didn’t last, again. 

Things escalated and he took the fall for Mel, being the one that fessed up to the murder and was sent off immediately afterwards when he didn’t say another word about what happened to anyone other than admitting his guilt for the crime.

He was recently released and once again found himself starting over in Anchorage. That’s where he found the Bastards, another start to his life, and a mixture of new and old people in his life.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

roommate as he’s living in 2 bedroom at the seal harbor apartments

co-workers / manager / boss / mentor at the lightning griffin tattoo shop

people that he’s fought either underground or in public bc he’s messy af

younger siblings that could still be alive after the attack (0/2)

one night stand / hook up culture isn’t his first choice but he’s done it before

enemies made by either being rubbed the wrong way by him or personal preference

there’s always that ex or the one that got away before all the trouble set in

really anything and everything !!

[surfl]

????????????????????????????????????fuck

[drkvlght]

aeipathys​:

⋆

“You got held up,” Hansa echoed faintly, as if it was an answer she was willing to accept. As if she hadn’t replayed the short time he had been in her life over and over, pausing and trying to find what she hadn’t realized; what had been left out. But memory couldn’t be replayed the same way twice, could it? Anger etching its way into the seams, until it was the only thing that held together the recollections altogether. To forget the wound and remember the knife. 

“I suppose it’s enough that you’re here, now,” she offered, with a smile that perhaps he had once known, only colder. “What adventure will it be this time? Sneaking into the forbidden entryway? Or maybe drinking on the roof of the winery.” Every word spoken was a stab deeper, but she didn’t relent; as if testing to see who would bleed out first. 

—

There was a small nod in response, more of a knee jerk reaction than an actual thought as if his explanation was enough to fill in the years of silence that had followed their last meeting. It wasn’t like he had her number when he’d been tossed away without a key, or even thought for a moment that she’d want to see him again — it had been yet another reckless decision that changed his life for the worse. It seemed that history was only going to repeat itself when it came to the Rainiers, when others bad decisions preceded his own. 

His back stiffened, unsure of what to say next ( or at all ) being reminded of all that he’d given up for the sake of someone else’s life. As if he hadn’t considered the consequences of walking away from something someone that made everything better than he deserved. It struck against him, verbal reminders of their time together as he had to be the first one to look away. 

           “Work actually.” This wasn’t the version of his life that they shared together, though he would have been lying if he said that he didn’t have regrets about that night. “It’s part of how I ended up here.”

[drkvlght]

vibesfm​:

LOCATION: the ugly mug cafe & diner ( after new years )

CLOSED STARTER FOR: banks rainier ( @drkvlght​ )

       the images of that night still haunted sarai. it may be normal for some people, but it was a little bit hard for sarai to get that scream and the sight of people literally dying out of her mind, not to mention her own attack to which she received a gash on her arm. she had gone to the hospital and received stitches, as well as a fresh bandage. thanks to everything that happened, her first week of the year was going to be spent off of work to get her mind off of everything and allow her arm to heal properly. then came the daunting task of informing her aunt of what happened (she waited until january 2nd to break the news to her) — whether or not her mother and father knew about it, she had absolutely no clue yet. looking down at the menu, she heard footsteps and let out a small sigh.       “ could i have a few more minutes, please? ” she kept her eyes down at the menu, assuming the person who had just walked up to her was a waiter/waitress. it wasn’t until she looked up that she saw a familiar face. “ oh, i-it’s you. if you need me to patch something up for you, could we take a rain check? my arm is still a little sore… ” her voice was, of course, quiet but audible as she spoke.

—

Banks hadn’t been directly involved with the events that struck the town the other night, but it didn’t mean that he was completely oblivious to what happened. Or to the people. There were a few that he knew personally that had been there that night, and the rest was nothing more than hearsay that made it’s way around town. It didn’t take long for word to even spread to him, despite his otherwise obstinate nature towards gossip. 

When he noticed Sarai, whatever common sense that he had to keep his distance from this mess started to walk in the opposite direction of the rest of him as he headed towards where she sat. “No, I.. I didn’t come here looking for that,” he replied, glancing at her arm when she spoke before his eyes flickered back up again. He’d actually come in there to order something to go, take back to his apartment, and call it a shit night on top of a shit day. “You okay?”

[drkvlght]

pcisxnivys​:

He couldn’t resist a chuckle, for once attuning himself to another’s humor and replying plainly, “I have, as well. It comes with the background.” When he ruminated it, there were surely an innumerous majority of those who turned to the profession of tattooing that did not bear scars on their heart and a grit in their past. An open-palmed gesture invited the other man to sit with him, cherry wine locks swept into his eyes by the wavering of the wind that howled and wept through the trees in such a lachrymose disdain. Safe to say that the weather was cropping up to be unfortunate in the wake of a snowman building contest, and doubtlessly, the potential spectators would be considerably fewer. I’m not used to doing anything much this time of year. “Yes, a metal box will do that for you,” Atticus deadpanned sarcastically, and he thought back scantly to the time that Micah herself had been imprisoned. Stella, too. He knew enough of the confinement to one space that he would have felt claustrophobic to walk a day in those shoes. ( Though, those like him were more likely to be sent away to institutions, ones that were unkind and incredibly unhelpful by design. ) “It is unusual that I am in Anchorage for the holidays. It’s likely we’ll spend the week before New Year’s in Japan, so you’re welcome to take the week off from Lightning Griffin. When you’ve grown up here, sort of, you don’t care too greatly for seeing it during the end of the year,” the tattooist chatted politely, propping the cigarette between his lips to collect the pencil in his hand, “How do you think of this? Too generic?” A hand gesticulated to the open page, carding his pencil to darken the outline of the sketch.

—

As Banks settled in beside the other, he did his best not to show exactly how lost he felt in the sense of others celebrating the holidays or at least seem like they had some kind of purpose for movement around town. He was acting out of routine, having carved one out since he arrived in town and made sure that he didn’t deviate enough to arouse any suspicion that he was slipping back down the path that he’d already traveled. “Before that too,” he commented with his gaze outward, letting the harsh sting of the cold air cut into his bare skin for a moment before he glanced back at the other by his side. His past wasn’t a secret to those that took him in, having owned up to most all of it to the best of his ability even if words failed him more often than not. “Why’d you stay then?” Holidays or not, Banks had a sense that plenty wanted to escape the bitter cold that was everywhere at all times as he tugged on the edge of the sleeve of his jacket as if it would do a better job that way. It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go, or anything else to do as he merely nodded at the idea of taking off for the week from the shop. Maybe he’d still slip in and take on some extra practice to sharpen up the skills which had dulled over the years — prove that he was there for a reason. He looked up once more and shrugged. “Maybe, but I doubt you’re close to done.” Then it wouldn’t be generic anymore.

[drkvlght]

nxnbinarydracvla​:

“I don’t really know that many, if we’re bein’ fuckin’ honest. Christmas is not in my vocabulary. It’s just the centralized shite I have to listen to every year.” Was he wrong? Blistering reminders of the holiday were strewn everywhere, and there was hardly a wintry song that didn’t ooze and bleed the religiously-focused holiday. Observing Chanukah took precedence to acknowledging that it existed. “Great. So you just wanna see me make an arse of myself, glad you admitted it,” he joked, gentler than before. There was something about Banks that reminded him of himself when he was younger, when the party was over and he’d whittled away the exterior he’d slipped his skin into. When there was no hedonism, and he was left as naught more than a bitter shell of a creature in human form. He chuckled then, chucking the warm rag underneath the counter and glancing to the opposite end of the bar to assure himself that he wasn’t needed. “Well, aren’t you fuckin’ cryptic. If you hate it, you could get drunk by yourself down in the lair. Assumin’ the rest of the fuckin’ goofs haven’t trashed the place. Don’t like bein’ alone?” Nobody did, he guessed, with the drab atmosphere that would surround the holidays. Banks struck him as the lone wolf type — of sorts — and there was still plenty to uncover about the newest recruit.

—

            “I plead the fifth,” he replied with a hint of a smirk at the image of seeing the other in a miserable position that he was currently trying to avoid himself. He could hear the call for others to speak up and join in song, but he could only hold onto the fact that he looked miserable that people would keep their distance. Banks looked away then, because his answer to not wanting to be alone was more complicated than that except that he wasn’t looking to pour out his heart at a bar surrounded by drunken fools that kept wanting to sing at the top of their lungs. Or at all. “I’ve spent years alone an’ thought — thought this would be a better way to spend the night but I’m quickly learning that it wasn’t.” He sighed slightly into his beer as he took another sip with a bit of a frown when another cheer rose up around him. Maybe he should have gone to the lair or stayed back in his apartment, anything might have been better than subjecting himself to too much cheer in the air that rubbed him the wrong way. “

[drkvlght]

conkniving​:

the bastards biker gang was a rowdy bunch, each in their own right. it was a facet that had brought fallon out of her shell as she grew older, from a being of silent seething to a catalyst for egomaniacal justice and instigation. but as she sat here, influenced through the bar crawl and the founding members, there was an odd wash of reconfiguration. that banks didn’t need fallon to be rambunctious, stirring shit up for entertainment. there was the watchful eye of the law on him, an extra target painted on his back. why should she make it easier for them to kick him around more than they already have? stella’s stint locked away was enough of a reprimand.

“if you wanna bust shit up, i’m sure we can find some place else, something a lil more under the radar.” it was a simple gesture of comradery, thumbing the label on her beverage. “we’re a bit aways from scaredy cat but there’s gotta be another hole in the wall somewhere  —  somewhere less cheery. can’t be the only ones who find this annoying.” a shoulder bumped hers, returned with a reproachful shove of her own. “i’m game for anything at this point.”

—

banks was supposed to be on his best behavior — a promise given for the life that he now led, seeking some kind of fresh start in the middle of nowhere near his old lives ( all of them ). but it didn’t make it any easier when he could sense the uneasiness settle between his shoulder blades that called for something more than a lukewarm beer and drunken caroling overhead. “not sure i’m in the best shape for scaredy cat tonight anyways, seeing as this isn’t the first bar that we’ve hit,” he countered calmly, lifting his own beer in silent salute before he finished it off.

he could see the use of blowing off steam, somewhere quieter and where it was less likely for it to come back on him — seeing as he wasn’t doing his best at sticking with whatever his best behavior was supposed to look like. “did you have any place in mind or is this a fly by the seat of your pants kind of moment?”

[drkvlght]

thvnderr​:

CLOSED: Bronx x Banks ( @drkvlght​ ) LOCATION:DULCE TIERRA WINERY & VINEYARD

“This is shit”, Bronx complained as he leaned against a pillar at the back, pulling his mask of for a moment to rest from the pressure around the head caused by the elastic band. He reached for an aperitive at one of the tables, shoving the cheese into his mouth without little care of possible witnesses. In fact, he probably looked close to a starved mouse when he felt someone nearby. Slowly, he turned around hoping it was not Micah or Sky, and a sigh of relief left him as he discovered someone else. “Yeah, so… don’t tell anyone about this, okay? I don’t know if us staff are allowed to take food from the main tables”.

—

           “Who even would I tell?” it wasn’t like they were surrounded by a crowd of people at the moment or anyone that was paying them a lick of attention. If anything, Banks was sure that they were practically one stop short of being invisible here as he reached into his back pocket for the somewhat crushed pack of smokes and pulled one out. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t give a shit if you or anyone takes something,” he added with a shrug as he patted down the rest of his pockets in search of the lighter that he’d stashed earlier in the night as the urge for nicotine became more than an itch, but a solid scratch that wouldn’t go away. Banks also noted that it wasn’t like it would be noticed anyways, considering that more than their fair share would just be tossed before the night was over if it wasn’t snatched up at the last second. That was what he planned to do.

[drkvlght]

aeipathys​:

closed ›  @drkvlght​

Meet me by the fountain. 

Promises spoken years ago echoed against the flowing water outside the winery, trickle of droplets into cold stone the only answer. It had been different, back then — humid Vegas air surrounding her, eyes bright in misadventure. The dull thud of stone dispassionately thrown into the fountain seemed to more fitting to the brisk Nevada night. It had been different, back then — she’d waited. Patiently, foolishly — for a familiar pair of dark eyes that never arrived. 

She wasn’t one to regret, but she also wasn’t one to forgive. And to forget? Well, water had too long a memory. 

Arms crossed as a useless defense against the cold weather, Hansa was halfway through turning back inside when she stopped, her gaze meeting one that seemed to belong to a different lifetime. Too much time had passed, but perhaps also none at all. 

It was a moment before she spoke. “This is not quite what fashionably late means.” 

—

It was supposed to be a fresh start in a new town, or at least that’s what it had been advertised to him when he put forth the right words to put Nevada in his rear view mirror. It had taken a few too many shitty rides to get there, some that he wouldn’t be able to describe fully before he took up residence in a showbox of an apartment that was still bigger than the cell he’d called home for years now. 

But it wasn’t that easy to escape the ghosts of bad decisions and regrets, not when they somehow found their way to the same fresh start when Banks noticed that he wasn’t alone any longer. An uncanny sort of feeling after spending so much time on his own, it took him even longer to think up something to say — but the other beat him to the punch.

They were always good at that.

Banks was quiet for a moment longer, somehow feeling the weight of too many words that got lost over the years until it became apparent that he was once again tongue tied. “I got held up.”

[drkvlght]

andreaxweber​:

Andrea looked at him, kind of understanding what he meant. She normally drowned out holiday songs, unless she found them fun enough to sing along to. “Ah I get what you mean now, I have to agree with you, they do play or sings the same ones. I once heard somebody saying because they are classics. Just because they are classics doesn’t mean you have to sing them over and over again.” They explained with a small chuckle escaping from their lips. “I think if you took a shot for every time you heard a certain song, you would be quite wasted. I make sure not to play too many Christmas shops in the store, one an hour is enough for me.” 

—

           “If I took a shot for every time I heard a certain song, then I’m sure I would be dead already,” he replied without any true inflection to his tone. Banks was going to attempt to drown out the noise around him as best he could, which was proving to be failing him despite the past few years worth of experience under his belt. Maybe he would have done better with taking it slower on the crawl, rather than keep moving forward with one drink at a time. “Then again, it might be quieter.” Though it wasn’t what he was exactly looking for that night as he glanced at the other. “Suppose that’s when people pop up an’ say that it’s only this time of year that we have to stomach the songs. You know, positive people.”

[drkvlght]

vibesfm​:

        sarai, being an observant female, did notice the look that was directed towards the beer that was in his hand. the taste of beer was enough of a good reason for sarai not to get it. it just wasn’t good to her.        “ i-it looks like that might be what they plan to do. ” the shitty karaoke had already sort of started, prior to both of them talking, so there was really only one way this was going to end — with a big drunk karaoke performance from those who probably shouldn’t have had more than one glass of alcohol at all tonight. she didn’t know what would’ve been worse: a hungover or a headache from listening to all of them sing a repetitive song. turning her head back to the bartender, she raised her hand. “ tab, please. ” she looked down at the countertop after watching the bartender walk away to go and get her tab.

—

Banks had a sense that he wasn’t going to be able to enjoy the beer in his hand, not if the murmur of songs was going to be a complete roar that took over the entire bar when he’d been sure to keep one step ahead of them all. It seemed like he wasn’t moving fast enough or those around him were drinking faster to where they were creeping up in spreading more holiday cheer than he was anticipating. “You’re telling me. I ain’t gonna be able to get away from it much longer if I keep at this,” he muttered out loud with a shake of his head. “Shit. All I wanted was a drink tonight without this being shoved down my throat and I know it was too much to ask for.” 

[ouijagorr]

[drkvlght]

pcisxnivys​:

Give me a few more months before that kind of talk. He scoffed, without reprimand nor malice detectable, and a fractal of him could be pinned as relieved by the prospect — his competitive nature was not doled toward the realm of art as a vessel for competitive streak. “You are not freezing?” the francophile inquired after a once-over, before smirking when he picked up the scraping of ivory caps against one another, “Ah. So, you’re a masochist.” The dry drivel of humor was met with his fingers daintily discarding the pencil and favoring ruffling around the insides of his fur coat for his pack of cigarettes, after splitting a fresh carton with his spouse, and popping the lid. Courteously, he offered it out to Banks, asking, “Smoke? I don’t believe I’ve ever asked.” The wonted habit for an oral fixation was an outlet for the restless covet of moving his limbs around absently as a form of silent comfort — animation was desired far more than a catatonic stage of apathy, he supposed. Slipping one betwixt his fingers, he gestured for Banks to sit down, a gust of icy wind tussling the cherry wine locks before his countenance and leaving them hanging in disarrayed curtains over his brows and nose as if he were the prognostication of an anime character. In spite of flushed cheeks, the cold and drab air was somewhat of an acquired taste: he’d grown up in countries that rather lacked sunlight. Tapping his pencil against the notebook and looking out to the snowbanks that children were building, he puffed from the lit cigarette as he laid his lighter out before him. The baleful orange glow of the cigarette against the red sunset creeping below the horizon were warmly complementary. “Have you checked out anything else around town for the holidays? The Festival of Lights is going to be beautiful.”

—

Banks picked at the sleeve of his threadbare jacket, one that he’d picked up somewhere on his travels here but he couldn’t place the when or where that he’d gotten it. Too many of those days had blurred into each other, seeking out a piece of himself that was lost and not going to be found anywhere close to where he’d ended up. But it was doing a decent job, or it had been in the first few minutes of stepping out from his shit box of an apartment. Now it felt like it was nothing more than an illusion that couldn’t stop the chill from cutting through him despite the way that none of it was reflected on his face. “I’ve been called worse,” he commented, taking the gesture as an initiation along with the smoke that was one of the few vices that he hadn’t cared to break. “Thanks.” He took the offered cigarette, digging into his pockets for the lighter that was somewhere on him as he didn’t often go anywhere without it or a few other things. Mostly because he was so used to uprooting himself in the middle of the day or night, leaving behind everything other than whatever was on his person. It was supposed to be different here, only barely being allowed to move to the state just to get him out of Nevada. “Not yet, no. I’m not used to doing anything much this time of year.” And that was an understatement. 

[drkvlght]

nxnbinarydracvla​:

You would. “That’s how it works around here,” Cyrek chided, a charismatic wink cast across the bar without intent of snagging tips for a change. He reached for a clean glass, blowing a raspberry with his tongue and adding, “You’re no fuckin’ fun. Least I know you’re not fuckin’ annoyin’ when you’re drunk like the rest of these…” His gaze was tipped to the side, curbing the desire to call the patrons something more untoward of his job title, deciding against it in favor of the others sitting in the proximity of him at the bar. “Fellas.” It sounded lilted and awkward in his thick Mancunian accent, pouring beer from the tap and setting it in front of him — based on assumption rather than telepathy, shrugging his shoulders. There were plenty of occasions the bartender had mentioned he didn’t celebrate the holiday, no more than that — even to most Bastards, there were personal tidbits that he kept cloak-and-dagger, though they could perhaps gather it out of context clues. “And when they make me wear the damn holiday reindeer ensemble next week, I’m sure you’ll come back and get a bloody kick out of it anyway. You don’t look like you’re havin’ much fun, twerp — isn’t that the point of these? When I was your age, I’d probably be fucked up by the end of the second bar and crawlin’ the walls.”

—

           “Then read my mind an’ figure out which shitty song they should play next,” he pointed out towards the source of all his pain and misery that the alcohol wasn’t blocking out as he was certain that another song would soon replace the last one. He shook his head, not there to be the source of anyone’s fun or even his own, seeing as he was far from an expert on figuring out what that even looked like anymore. Maybe a few years ago, when Las Vegas was not the downfall that it had become for him — but even then, it was already a band aid on his life before and not doing a great job. “I’ll be sure to schedule out some time to make sure that I don’t miss it, ‘cause I wouldn’t want you to feel like I don’t care.” He smiled without any teeth and without reaching his eyes, sarcasm lacing his tone as he took another swig of his beer that was growing too warm to even be able to enjoy in the moments of silence before moving to the next bar. Banks shrugged. “Guess I missed the memo that I was supposed to be fucked up by the last bar instead of still painfully aware of how miserable this all is.”

[drkvlght]

drvgonbvnny​:

—

Pursing a grateful smile and bowed politely, the astronomer sat across from the young man in the train car and quietly asked the service dog to sit. Pushing the hood of the frog onesie down on his son’s head, Dustin shifted the babe in the sling so he could look out the window with his head supported, caressing the two month old. It was strange to get on a mode of transportation without his laptop bag in hand these days, but it would honestly negate the whole point of the amusement park’s displays that the train would pass by. “Thank you,” he told the other, rubbing along Crash’s back to soothe the baby. Luckily, the two month old was more enamored with the sight of falling snow than the possibility of people bustling by the table. “I hear the cocoa service is the best hot chocolate in Anchorage. Think it’s free?” He scrunched up his nose, guessing they would be charging a pretty penny for it — and he was highly dubious there would be any caricature dance sequence like the kiddie rides around the park would lead young children to believe. Naturally, the extrovert made an effort to speak to the person that had allowed him a place to sit — well, no one could stop him from talking most of the time, unless they explicitly told him to shut his pie-hole. “I don’t honestly have an artistic bone in my body, so looking at what other people can create… I think it’s nice. What about you?” Sheepishly belated to realize that he had neglected to mention his name to the stranger, his necklaces rustling about against his black knit sweater when his babe reached to mess with it, he lifted a hand from the rambunctious little human. “Dustin, by the way. Dusty is just fine. I’d shake hands, but — I think they smell like baby powder right now.”

—

Banks shook his head. It wasn’t a problem to share the ride, seeing as he wasn’t waiting for anyone else to show up and take the place that the others had filled unless they were looking for someone to fill the empty space with endless conversation. He could stomach it for a few minutes at the most, but then it became white noise to him when he struggled to figure out what to say next or the right answer. “I doubt it.” Free seemed to be too much even for the right reasons when businesses got involved because despite the season, they wanted to make money on anything and everything — or maybe that was the cynic in him. “But who knows?” That sounded less cynical, right? “Uh, what about me?” Banks had been paying attention, or so he thought, but he couldn’t connect all the dots in front of him from a better word for it but a lack of experience. There wasn’t much time for small talk and meeting new people in his life for the past few years, choosing to keep to himself as much as possible to survive for whatever reason that he was struggling to find nowadays that he was supposedly free. “Banks, an’ it’s alright. I believe you,” he replied with a small nod towards the handful that he had with him. 

[drkvlght]

anchoragecafe​:

          gérard was never one for egg nog but he figured it might be better with alcohol  . .  he was wrong. still, he decided to stay     —     watching the drunk folks trying to navigate around each other was far too amusing to leave so soon. the homme chuckles quietly before taking a quick sip of her drink  (some fruity alcoholic beverage he’s never heard of before).  “which song is that?”  he turns to the other and asks. all of them is the correct answer, thinks gérard, but he waits to see what the actual response is.

—

If he had to sit there and sift through every single song that he’d already determined were surefire ways to get under his skin, Banks knew that he would lose whatever cool that he had left with the night. Still, the question was a simple one as he shook his head and took a sip of his beer first before replaying. “Pick one, any one an’ you’d have the right answer,” he replied after another beat, hellbent on focusing on his drink rather than the holiday cheer all around him. Banks didn’t have a reason to celebrate, not when he was only there for as many drinks as he could stomach before he called it a night. “There’s no wrong answer either.”

[drkvlght]

conkniving​:

the annual bar crawl. one of few festivities that fallon more than tolerated, but actually enjoyed. pysche’s id would say it was merely an extended version of the weekends that she didn’t feel like sleeping and tested her body’s limits in a personal contest, but ego would argue that mob mentality in a marathon could, and would, play a factor. evident in the way the collector’s ribs met the lip of the bar counter without thought for the bruise that would surely rise from the numbed contact, fingers necked the two beers the bartender doled out and brought them closer, pushing one to banks with a, “c’mon, we gotta at least try heckling ‘em outta the song first before we bail.” fresh, icy beer washed over the strange dialect the foreigner’s tongue had spoken  —  at this level of inebriation, it was simultaneously slurred american slang in a thai accent that was thicker than typical. coupled with the volume of drunken singers, it could pose a problem for their communication. not that she was capable of that analysis at present.

the rookie bastard did not seem in the state to pester the populace. the hunched shoulders said it all, easily enough even with the impending diplopia. not the one someone would turn to talk about their feelings, fallon resorted to slapping a hand on the blade of his shoulder, gesturing at his beers with her own before another swig. “there’s still a couple more to hit before the night’s through. you finish quick enough, we get outta here before they start on feliz navidad and i break a bottle over someone’s head.”

—

Heckling was not what he planned to do in any kind of situation, but he wouldn’t keep the other from following through with it if that’s what they planned to do to survive the onslaught of Christmas cheer that kept being shoved down all their throats alongside the alcohol. He’d signed up for the beers between bars, but they’d found a way to slip in as much holiday spirit as they could with each sip as the other passed over the beer for him and he wrapped his hand around the neck of the bottle. “I’m more likely to throw this at ‘em than I am to heckle ‘em,” he replied with a small shrug, though he wasn’t looking to start any shit that night. 

He was the one on parole, and was supposed to be keeping his shit to himself or underground where it wouldn’t be able to seep out and infect all parts of his life here now. It didn’t always work, when he felt the tension start to boil between his shoulder blades to where he was unable to keep himself contained in one solid piece. “It’s only going to follow us to the next one, you know that. If we miss it here, then it’s gonna show up regardless.” But he took a long sip of his beer regardless, ready to drink and bolt as soon as the bottle was empty.