PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
#extradirty
Cosimo Galluzzi
wallacepolsom
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
ojovivo
trying on a metaphor
occasionally subtle
will byers stan first human second
Today's Document
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taylor price
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Claire Keane
Peter Solarz
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blake kathryn
oozey mess
One Nice Bug Per Day
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seen from Vietnam
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@improvinglauren-blog
“ it probably is but there’s no use in actually worrying about it when we’re just gonna keep doing what we do. not unless it becomes a serious problem. isn’t it though? if only more people were happy with themselves, the world would be a much better place. ”
“You got a point there, yeah. The problem with that though is realizing when it becomes a serious problem. And I agree, but it’s not always that simple, I guess.”
“ probably, yeah. i only have myself to blame in the end though. after all, no one’s telling me to drink as much as i do. one thing i can say is i don’t hate myself. i’m quite happy with myself actually. ”
“That makes sense, I guess. I don’t know. Just seems to be this viscous cycle. That’s good, though. That you don’t hate yourself.”
“ it has been two days & i’m still recovering from the bonfire because this hangover just does not want to go away. this is just a fair warning to all of you though, do not fuck with me. i’m not liable for what ends up happening to the first person that does. “
“And yet, you’ll probably still drink as much at the next party that pops up, huh? We all will. We sit here and complain and then do it all over again. It’s like we hate ourselves. Maybe we do.”
tristanrhughes:
“Alright then,” Tristan said as he opened the door and walked out, looking back at the girl before adding, “I can drive us if it’ll make it easier on you, gorgeous.”
If he called her gorgeous one more time...”You do know my actual name, don’t you, Tristan?” Her words lacked bitterness, though. Mild amusement, maybe. If anything, she’d blame any bitchiness on the pounding headache taking over her brain. “...but yes, please.” She added begrudgingly, forcing a smile.
okayxander:
“Of course. Tattoos aren’t for everyone.”
“Definitely not...but I like what you do. Your work. It’s beautiful.”
okayxander:
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good. Oh, and if I ever end up stumbling into your shop clearly drunk off my ass, I give you full permission to do whatever is necessary to get me out of there. I don’t do needles.”
okayxander:
“Um…it’s safer not to.”
“See? That’s what you tell them, then. But exaggerate a little. Tell them that they’ll die or get very sick or something if they do it."
tristanrhughes:
Tristan couldn’t help but look as she went back up the stairs. She was still gorgeous even if she was hungover and cranky right now. “It would have been bad for you at least,” he teased with a smile when she came back, gesturing down the stairs before asking, “Are you sure you don’t need anything else before we leave?”
Her eyes rolled. She should’ve seen that one coming. Following him down the stairs, Lauren thought about it for a minute, but even that required too much effort. “Not that I can think of, no.” It wasn’t a lie...“Let’s go.”
tristanrhughes:
“No problem. I’ll take it as slow as you want,“ Tristan responded before she mentioned her pants and he couldn’t help but laugh because he hadn’t realized she’d put them on. Pausing where he was he answered, "I think they’re in my room. You’ll have to check though. I don’t remember if you were wearing them when you came in or not.”
Tristan’s laugh was infectious, despite how much it hurt her head to copy it. Shaking her head, she turned around and re-entered the room, thankfully finding her jeans from last night balled up on the floor, and when she exited, she was in the process of zipping and buttoning them back up. “That could’ve been really bad.”
okayxander:
“They were so incredibly persistent. It took me an hour to get them out of the shop. As much as I want to make money, I don’t want my artwork to be a mistake.”
“And that’s respectable. They may have to live with it, but it’s your art they’re living with. I totally understand. Aren’t you not supposed to get a tattoo while drunk, anyways? Somethin’ about the alcohol and thinning your blood or somethin’?”
okayxander:
“You know those people who get drunk and then think it’s a good idea to get a tattoo? I never understood that.”
“That’s the thing, though. They’re drunk. Usually to the point of being unable to make smart decisions.”
tristanrhughes:
“Seriously if you don’t think you can make it anywhere I can just cook you something here,” Tristan said as they left his room and started heading down the stairs. Lauren looked like she might not be able to do much more than lay there on the kitchen table while he cooked anyway and he didn’t want to push her.
She contemplated her options for a moment, before shaking her head (and regretting it, because ow). “I think I’m good. Let’s just go...and walk slow. Your legs are longer than mine.” Lauren informed, following him out of the room, before pausing. “...Tristan? Where are my pants?”
tristanrhughes:
Tristan took her hands with a smile and gently puled her upright, trying not to jostle her too much in fear she might vomit on him before saying, “There. That’s better. Once we eat and you shower you’ll feel way better. Come on. I know the best place for hangover breakfast.”
Lauren stumbled slightly in getting up, but planted her feet on the ground pretty solidly, bracing herself in Tristan’s grip. Her head whirled around her, but subsided as soon as she steadied, and a relieved smile formed at her lips. “If the best place isn’t our kitchen, it’s already too far.” But she dropped their hands and gestured towards the door, a silent way of saying lead the way.
tristanrhughes:
A laugh escaped him without him meaning for it to at the sight of her and he asked, “You’re kind of an adorable mess, you know that? Don’t push yourself too hard. Go slow. Too much liquor. You’ll feel better once we eat.”
Lauren would’ve pouted at that, if not for her fear of making that adorable mess statement even truer than it already was. Sighing, she held both her hands up for his help, head thrown back slightly. “Yeah, yeah, just...help me up.”
tristanrhughes:
“Sure. No problem,” he said as he set the water back down on the nightstand for her. A grin grew on his face and he asked, “So are you going to hang out in my bed for the rest of the day? Because it’s fine but I was actually going to get food so if you want to come you can.”
Despite her general dislike of being there, hanging out in his bed didn’t seem like too bad of an idea...but then, on the other hand, her stomach grumbled due to lack of substance in it, other than alcohol, and like always, hunger won. Nodding, Lauren braced herself to get out of the bed, before groaning. “Why does even thinking about moving hurt?”
mtristanrhughes:
“Well it’s not so much about not getting that drunk. It’s just about being responsible enough when you are to make it back to your own bed or have a friend make sure you get there. You’re a good girl, Lauren. I don’t want to see anything happen to you. That’s all,” Tristan responded, rubbing his head because he was still hungover too.
Good girl. She almost laughed, but instead focused on downing the two pills and chasing it with the water, before handing them both in his direction. Arguing required too much effort. It was much easier to nod and smile and act like she understood what he was saying. “Yeah, I’ll...I’ll keep that in mind, Tristan. Thanks.”
tristanrhughes:
Tristan smiled at the girl in his bed as he found a shirt he liked and pulled it on before replying, “You’re welcome. There’s aspirin and a water on the night stand there for you too. Figured you’d need it this morning. You can just give me my shirt back later. Anyway, I’m sorry if it freaked you out waking up in here.”
Lauren looked to her left, and sure enough, there was a bottle of water and a bottle of aspirin that wouldn’t do shit for her headache; she had migraine stuff around the house somewhere. Still, there was no harm in at least attempting to ease the pain in the mean time, so she leaned across to grab the hangover remedies and bean to uncap the water. “Not your fault. I shouldn’t get that drunk. It won’t happen again.” Only one of them knew that was a lie.