jimmy schenkman. @jimmyschenk - Tumblr Blog

𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 ♦ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

JEREMY SCHENKMAN but everyone calls him JIMMY or SCHENK. pronouns are he/him. forty-two years old. born and raised in nyc, studied at arizona state and has been around phoenix ever since. father of one idiot (affectionate) who’s starting college. basically unemployed. you can find him at a bar.

#intro.#/ I'll finish Jimmy's connections tomorrow!#If you'd like to plot pls like this post and I'll dm you tomorrow :)

kaiwinterson:

“I’d take the trenches over babysitting you any day of the week.” The definitely-not-60-year-old doth protest too much, methinks. It’s unclear who Kai’s trying to fool here; he lives for his honorary dad duties. If he didn’t have this, he’d have to take a look at the rubble of his own life and, yeah, that’s no fun. "Fine. One drink – but call me sixty again and you’ll be wearing it.“

“Yeah? I could always dig you a little hole in the back. Pretty sure I have water guns around somewhere.” This is Jimmy’s way of saying no one’s holding Kai at gun point. He has yet to figure out why Kai feels obligated to stick around when he knows for a fact he isn’t a joy to be around. With every bad decision, he feels like he’s getting closer towards the underlying reason. “Let me guess,” Jimmy says with a triumphant smirk on his lips as he grabs a glass, “Vanilla vodka and pineapple juice?”

#kai winterson.#/ They're ridiculous but I love them so much <3

kaiwinterson:

If looks could kill, the scythe would be falling sharp and swift on Jimmy right about now. Sixty. The audacity. "Need I remind you that I am, in fact, only ten years older than you?“ It often feels like lifetimes, but Kai digresses. “Or would a simple ’shut up’ suffice? That’s what I’m leaning towards.”

“Sixty is me being generous.” If anyone needs to start acting like their age, it’s definitely Jimmy and he knows it but this won’t stop him from acting like it’s not. “You act like you’ve lived through both world wars, so at this rate I’m going to have to see your birth certificate.” Jimmy shrugs. “Or you could just have a drink.”

#kai winterson.#/ LMFAOOO I'm laughing uncontrollably #'The audacity'#Also the gif is perfect

sidquin:

ass fucking is reserved for boyfriends &. birthdays &. bloody good exceptions. ( and a request for it is always found in the midst of a foot-rub. ‘ hey, babe… ‘ ) sid feigns it’s worth a thought. “ hm. are the weird shits after worth being ‘ fair ‘ ? i’m gonna have to think about this. “ all dead pan, no break to smile; just like him. should the government be listening in on them through their phones, perhaps someone here’s got the curled lips. or else wondering what the fuck is wrong with these cunts.

it’s his place but sid isn’t acting like it. all too comfortable with the toss of her jumper, the legs kicked up on the coffee table, sinking into the sofa. “ i’ve gotta work on a routine. “ november’s licking at her flats. there’s a duet she’s gotta perfect before the concert &. sid’s no bestie with due dates. “ important, yes. is four am an overkill? … i dunno. maybe. —- you’re missin’ me, huh? “

Alternatively, Jimmy thinks if the government were listening to their conversations that they probably deserve to be paid for providing constant entertainment to whatever sad fuck fbi agent is tasked with keeping up with their bullshit.

“Keep in mind that weird shits are probably better than coke shits,” he quips in return. The comment is tossed throw casually at her that onlookers would most likely be horrified considering her history. But he knows Sid, knows what makes her laugh which makes it easy to joke around with her so he adds, “Which obviously you know nothing about now.” He claps twice in her direction.

He scoffs at her comment, even lets out a small incredulous laugh to let it be known how outlandish her suggestion is. “I may be fucked up, but I’m not that fucked up.” He had missed her once upon a time, and it’s debatable as to whether he ever stopped. “It’s fine if you can’t stay. I can just call someone else.”

#sid quin.#drugs tw

kaiwinterson:

The notion of getting drunk with Jimmy is about as tempting as a cup of cyanide. “When was the last time you just had a drink? If I say yes, I guarantee one drink would turn into ten.” He’s a seasoned parent; he knows this dance. Give your kids – the biological and the honorary ones – an inch and they’ll take a mile.

“Ooft. Sounds like you’ve got a problem there, buddy.” He raises his brows at Kai, though he’s fully aware that he’d absolutely be the reason for the ten drinks. But, if there’s anything Jimmy does well, it’s convincing someone to indulge so he’s not giving up just yet. “You’re nearly, what, sixty? You should know your own limit by now”

#kai winterson.#/ My one and only <3

nadiaburakgazi:

✹

“Yeah, as much as I’d love to have a drink, I can’t. So, I’ll just stick to my coffee.” It had taken a bit of time for Nadia to really accept her pregnancy. The circumstances surrounding the life changing event were large, in part, to the brunette’s uncertainty of whether she’d keep the baby or not. Nadia knew she wasn’t ready to be a mother, especially when it came to entering motherhood completely alone, but once she realized, ready or not, that she was already attached it didn’t really matter what obstacles stuck in her way. “And I’m not really even supposed to be drinking this.” Barely four months along and not really showing her condition, Nadia had only started reading the what to expect books.

Jimmy quirks his brow, intrigued. Not even supposed to be drinking coffee? His mind goes to three places: irritable bowel syndrome, an early start, or pregnancy. With no ring on her finger, he can’t help but find a twisted sense of joy in knowing how the Burzkgzi parents would absolutely hate it if the last option was true. So, he decides to open up the floor for himself. “So, which one is it: are you gonna shit yourself or do you have a little demon growing inside of you? If it’s neither, please just lie and pick one. I won’t tell anyone.”

#nadia burakgazi.#/ I also assumed here! I hope that's okay :)

sidquin:

“ you—- “ her jaw drops. few can stun sid the way jimmy just has. “ leave kai and his kids and their kids out of our fucked up sense of humour, motherfucker. “ she waits a sec. “ besides, if i wanted to go down that route, i’d test nature. you know, how female grasshoppers do? “ sid throws him a wink. if there’s anything to shut this douche-bag up, perhaps it’s the talk of his decapitation. bet he’d still find a way to talk shit. “ you’re an ass. why do i keep you around again? “ well, because so is she. damaged finds damaged, someone said once— i think. before jimmy can, sid answers herself with a nod to the liquor cabinet, shiny in its pride. “ ah, “ glass rim meets her lips, finally. “ i just remembered why. “ she smirks when she takes the shot. it’s strictly now that he hasn’t told her to.

“Relax, it’s a joke. They haven’t even been born yet.” Hands are thrown up in the air to claim innocence, but the amused quirk of his lips tells a different story.

He hums in thought for a moment, as if to really consider the hypothetical. “There are probably worse ways to die and I understand why you’d choose me, specifically, as a nutrition source. All this meat--” he pats his arm that hasn’t touched a weight since college, “--very scrumptious. But, if you do, I think it’s only fair you’d let me do anal just before so at least I can die happy.”

He doesn’t know the answer to that, but he suspects if she was happy she wouldn’t. Selfishly, he’s not complaining. “Unbelievable,” he shakes his head, though there’s a grin on his lips. He shouldn’t be surprised at Sid’s stubbornness and yet... “So, what’s this thing you have tomorrow morning? Is it important?” Aka is she staying over?

#sid quin.

sidquin:

“ oh, absolutely. there’s too much shit to do, i’m not dying ‘till i hit the triple digits. “ to leave the earth without taste-testing every inch of it first? no thanks! sid won’t go, heels digging in soil. it looks like her bad influence over here has different plans for her. now she’s quirking a brow, wondering just how plastered he intends to get her. still, sid returns the cheers, “ to ballet and to consistently being a responsible, sexy, intelligent, funny woman. oh and a sexy one. did i say that already? “ she even clings hers against his, but it doesn’t mean she drinks. peer pressure in the name of one shot is something, but two in a matter of seconds? she’ll sooner pour it over his head. “ what? i’m savouring the flavour, enjoying the journey or—- some bullshit. “

“Jesus fucking Christ, Sid,” he scoffs. “Though, if you’re planning on eating Kai’s grandchildren to live forever, I might actually support it.”

Fifteen years ago, he’d have agreed with her without so much as a second thought. Life felt too short, consumed by an insatiable wanderlust where every adventure felt just as thrilling as the first, which no high could ever beat, or maybe he’d only felt like that because he was with her. He’d never know.

Sid starts listing adjectives and Jimmy couldn’t have taken his shot any quicker. Hard to tell whether the intense grimace is due to Sid calling herself sexy twice or the shot. “The sooner I forget you said that, the better.” He glances down at her shot glass, which remains full. “I’ll give you responsible. Which you know just means boring. But hey, by all means, enjoy the journey. Live, laugh, love.”

#sid quin.

sidquin:

“ hey, maybe when i’m EIGHTY i might actually be one. “ she’s wearin’ a dumb grin that he can’t see; her head’s in the clouds. the clouds, of course, refer to the gates of heaven he’s opened up for her. obviously it’s impressive, but sid doesn’t tell him that. too weak? she laughs at him. “ i see what you’re doin’ baby, it’s not working. “ oh, but—- …isn’t it? sid locates her vodka of choice: stoli. she was a wiser woman five minutes ago; now she’s helping herself to his shot glass, downed just as quick. there’s no cringe nor grimace; the power of spite, eh? “ too weak my ass. “

“You plan on living ‘til you’re eighty?!” Jimmy, personally, can’t think of anything worse. He certainly wouldn’t have Sid in his life, and even if he did it’d be ten times harder to convince her to have a drink with him. “Mhm, yeah. Clearly it isn’t working,” he says, watching her pour herself a shot glass with a smug smirk curving his lips. Classic Sid, pretending like it doesn’t burn. It almost makes him laugh. “Calm down, you’ve had one shot.” He grabs a shot glass for himself and places it next to hers and fills them both up again with Stoli. He holds his shot glass in the air for a toast: “Here’s to whatever the fuck you have at 4am.”

#sid quin.

sidquin:

“ i gotta be up at four tomorrow… “ arms tight across her chest with the jutted hip. there’s a beat. then sid’s on her tip-toes, some half-arsed attempt at peeking over his shoulder. “ …but like, what have you got? “ it just means she’s curious, not that she’s going to indulge.

“Wow. You sound just like a real grown up.” Jimmy tilts his head to the side, quirking a brow. He knows there’s a but coming. And there it is. “What don’t I have, Sid?” No, really. He has mostly everything. His alcohol collection is one of his prized possessions. He opens his cabinet then turns back to her. “One drink... Or are you becoming too weak to keep up?”

#sid quin.#/ Idiots!

midsommars-deactivated20201109

Game Night (2018) Directed by John Francis Daley and Jonathan Goldstein

#about.

“Oh, come on... Have a drink with me.”

@phxstarters

#phxstart #/ If we haven't plotted yet pls feel free to assume connections!

reesethomas:

Where: Downtown Phoenix OPEN TO ANYONE - @phxstarters

Reese had been stood up my a potential sponsor for the family clinic and was already heated leaving the cafe downtown. Making her way out to the car she, she noticed a yellow boot on her tire. It was only then that she noticed the no parking sign a few feet away from her front tire. No parking Monday-Friday from 8am-6pm. “For fuck sakes,” she grumbled. “This is great, just great. This is exactly what I needed today.” Reese kicked the tire, careful not to hit the wheel clamp and risk hurting herself. Spotting the traffic cop across the street she yelled, “How the hell was I supposed to know? You people change up the rules around here every damn week!” The cop just shrugged and pointed at the sign, next to her car. Even though he was right and she should have been paying attention, it still infuriated her. “Yeah, yeah– shut up,” she mumbled. Leaning against her car she looked down at her phone, knowing damn well she wouldn’t make it back to the office for her next meeting. Quickly texting her business partner an SOS, she let them know she wouldn’t be making it back to the clinic today. “Hey– hey, sorry— but uh, do you know where I can go to get one of these things off? Or know of any good places I can go around here to wait for a tow truck?”

Oh, how exciting. A woman yelling at a cop. He has to go see this.

Jimmy’s nursing a hangover with an Irish coffee. He stops in the middle of the sidewalk to observe the spectacle because it’s rare to come across free entertainment these days, especially in broad daylight. He takes a large gulp of his drink before the sheer volume emanating from the angry stranger worsens his headache.

What he doesn’t expect, but probably should’ve, is for the brunette to start speaking to him. Does he have the face of someone who wants to be talked to? Surely not. Audience engagement is not what he signed up for. But he’ll relent. Kind of.

“I think you should kick it one more time,” he says sarcastically. “Or, rumour has it, if you stroke it gingerly, the pieces will fall apart like a withering flower.”

#reese thomas.