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Sweet Seals For You, Always
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NASA
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Origami Around
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EXPECTATIONS
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YOU ARE THE REASON
shark vs the universe
d e v o n
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@libmeade
Jay turned around as he heard someone over his shoulder and nearly dropped his cup of coffee when they were closer to him than he expected. âJesus, fuck. You scared me half to death.â
Libby held her hands up in a defensive motion before pushing a few strands of hair out of her face. "I was trying to look past you, but it was like trying to look over the great wall of man."
Sure, just go ahead. Itâs not like thereâs a line here.Â
Sorry --ah-- I just assumed you were sight seeing and mentally taking pictures since you were legitimately standing in the same place you were when I first got here, fumbled for my wallet, took a phone call, and finally decided to get in line.
Ever got to the point where you just want to finally say youâre done? Yeah, well Iâm there.
Everybody has felt that way at some point or another, but you have to partially be thankful for these times because without the we would never have the ability to recognize the good times in our lives. You can't have light without a bit of darkness.
I donât mean to be creepy, but you smell really nice. What is that?
You really like it? I call it Juicy-- made from the tears of orphaned infants and the sweat of overweight hookers just trying to make some money to feed their children.
"Iâm of the mindset that one should go big or go home, but then again there are those that have a different stance on the matter, to each their own. So long as I have my fun, otherâs opinions really do not phase me." Kayleigh crossed her arms and leaned against the sleek wooden bar, her undivided attention on the nervous yet sweet girl that sat in front of her. Her frail demeanor only gave Kay a sense of superiority and power, something she not only thrived for, but relished in when acquired. "Ah, stress related drinking, my favorite," She answered, brushing her hand across septum as she continued to speak. "In that case, Iâll keep your tab open for the evening. Seems to me like weâre going to be here for quite some time." The petite brunette shot her a bright smile which could only really be described as conniving before her slender fingers wrapped around the bottle of alcohol, pouring yet another glass full of poison for her customer.
Libby chuckled, her fingers still placed around the rim of the glass as she let the bottom hover over the bar. "You sound like a politician." A mischievous grin pulled at her plum colored lips as her color coordinated nails pushed the glass back toward the pale brunette, her eyes following the smooth pouring of the alcohol as it gushed out of the bottle. "Such a coincidence, it happens to be a favorite of my liver as well." Libby mused sarcastically before silencing herself, the liquid of her drink filling her mouth and drowning any of the words she was tempted to let past her lips. The girl quickly shook her head, holding a finger up as she struggled to swallow the alcohol as quickly as possible without vomiting. "That won't be necessary," Libby thrust her fingers beneath the fabric of her dress that covered the upper half of her chest, revealing a small wad of bills that she began to sort through, throwing a few down on the counter, her eyes darting up, taking in the rather confused expression on the girl's face, "I-- uh, this isn't what it looks like-- it's just... no pockets in this dress," she uttered, a soft chuckle passing her lips as she shrugged, "not that I don't trust you with the details of my identity, but I would rather not have a tab under my name, not here at least." She offered a meek smile as she resumed her position, the rim of her glass set on her lips once more, a dark stain the only trace left on the object as she set it down for yet another refill.
"Heavy drinker, my kind of girl." Kayleighs ever present sly smirk only grew  wider as she took in the gorgeous brunette sitting behind the bar who watched her intently as she pulled the tall bottles from their rightful place. "To what do we owe the celebration? Or binge?"Â
"Well, is there really any other proper way to do it?" Libby quirked a brow, her fingertip tracing over the dull rings of condensation left from past glasses. Crossing and uncrossing her legs she shrugged, trying to keep her fidgeting under control, the mass amounts of people inside the bar making her just slightly uncomfortable. "It's been a long, stressful couple of weeks and I just need to unwind and relax on the verge of alcohol poisoning," Libby grinned as her fingers wrapped around the drink she had set before her, the liquid hardly having any time to properly burn the soft tissues of her throat as she sucked it down.
"You look like you could use a drink. Or, thirty. Why donât I fetch that for you and then we can continue our little chat, yes?"
The brunette gave a slight nod, her brows raising momentarily as she did so. "Make it thirty one," she stated, a sly grin on her lips as she watched the girl saunter toward the vast amount of liquor bottles behind her that reflected the glare of the lights above the bar.
No! And I prefer Dean so weâve got a deal.
Almost like a deal with death, eh? Kidding. I'm done now, sorry. Well ah, Dean, I'll let you get to your beauty sleep instead of keeping you.
I think Iâll go with your actual nameâŠ. Libby. Just as you should try and do⊠Go with my actual name, DeanâŠ. Not dead.
Aw c'mon, it'll be like a nickname, my good ol' buddy dead. No? Alright, Dean it is. Lib or B is what I prefer though, by the way.
What weâre going to divide the campaign fundraising for, but Iâve been at it for hours and it looks like a few more will be required. âI havenât seen you around though⊠You are?
That can't be all that hard. I mean, how many components can their really be? Plus, each one should have an estimated amount to fund it. The coffee and donuts portion shouldn't be relatively hefty. Oh, I'm Libby, sorry.
Pumpkin Spice Latte already?
They can just keep the cup as evidence that they went to Starbucks, or a napkin as a souvenir for their trip. I canât imagine the types of photos they share online, and itâs the one time Iâm glad Iâm not able to see any of them. Hey, Iâve done a similar thing so donât you worry. Whenever someone used one of my coffee sachets, Iâd count the rest to see if there would be enough to last me the week. Our caffeine addictions can be our little secret, although Iâm still going to find out if thereâs a caffeine anonymous session operating in the area. âHi, weâre JWPSL and STH, and we need help.â No. No. Thatâs an image I certainly donât want in my head of⊠wrinkly old men and innocent⊠altar boys⊠andâ Eugh. How ghastly.Â
I donât think Iâve introduced myself yet, have I? Iâve been so caught up with all this coffee and old men talk that Iâve forgotten. Iâm Yuliya.
Better a caffeine addiction than anything else, right? Can you imagine what a caffeine anonymous session would be like? It would be a room full of people talking so fast your head would spin and jitters so violent you'd think you're experiencing an earthquake. It's hardly the caffeine that's addicting for me, it's more of an addiction to the routine. Does that make sense? My choice of caffeinated beverage could taste like hot garbage and I would probably still be satisfied. No need for an introduction, I know who you are. I work for your sister, Katarina, but it is a pleasure to meet you personally. I'm Libby.
The more viable option would be because they donât want me to finish working⊠but at the moment, even I could consider that.
It's a plausible explanation, really.
What exactly are you working on?Â
BEAUTIFUL, DIRTY, RICH || Libby & Jay
With the drunken sounds of his comrades yelling and cheering for the death of a Russian man, Jay had to cuss mentally, for their incompetence. He knew that saying anything about the death would make them seem a bit dangerous. Then, there was that same mentality that Jay always had. He didnât give a shit. He was confident in his ability to just talk about whatever he wanted. Even if people would sometimes hate him for saying whatever he wanted to say, still, he kept things interesting.
"Celebrating the death of a dangerous man. Itâs nice being able to roam around the streets of Launceston in peace." He retorted, taking the drink and downing the poison stinging his throat. "If only there more careers like that for men. I think I wouldnât mind getting all dressed up to have a few drinks. You must adore your boss." His eyes averted towards the forwardness of her body language.Â
It was an awkward feeling having another woman, besides Ruby, act so pleasant around him. He furrowed his brows at her playfulness and wondered just what her intentions were being in a crowd of just men. Did her boss usually let her just play games like this? Jay couldnât help himself but look around the room to see who else was around. Maybe, just maybe, he could get an idea on what this woman did.
He leaned closer towards her with a darkened expression. âAre you a whore?â He asked bluntly and confidently. He smirked, taking a drink from her hands, and placing it between his lips to swallow. âItâs rather odd getting all dressed up to spend time with a bunch of French men and a Korean.â He teased. âIs there any reason why you decided to come talk to me? I donât mind it. I just am curious. No boss is that cool.â He said his last words loosely.Â
"The Russian," she murmured, turning her head an inch so she could see Jay, her brows raised as if her statement was more of a question for him to confirm. Libby chuckled to herself over the situation she had gotten herself into. These men were surely celebrating the death of Aleksandr Vorshevsky, the father of her boss, and she was taking part. Not only was she on Katarina's time, but now she was drinking on her time with men who likely had been plotting their own methods to take down the Russian leader, if they weren't already the ones behind his demise. "It's a love-hate relationship."
And it was. While Libby didn't mind the home she was given, a respectable place of shelter, the extravagant clothes and accessories, and even the occasional gifts, she was weary over the details. Sometimes she felt guilty working a job that sent her into Launcestonâs business district dressed in clothes that were worth more than her entire apartment, furniture and all, with a mission to sink her teeth into men that wore nothing but the most expensive of suits accompanied with the shiniest of watches and fastest of cars. Little did these men know that her sole purpose was to lure them back to her place of employment and enchant them, encouraging them to drop thousands and thousands of dollars without their knowledge, price tags often not discussed. Libby never fails to remind herself that it wasnât necessarily her fault, these men were partially getting what they deserved, most of them married, fathers, following a pretty girl to her lair where she would dissect them slowly through the night into the wee hours of the morning. Â
Libby's pacific blue orbs widened at his question, her mouth ajar, as it often was when she was caught off guard, choking on her words. "I--I'm a virgin," she exclaimed, clearing her throat as the other men peered over at the pair after her sudden outburst. Shaking her head, her eyes downcast, Libby toyed with the hem of her dress, "I'm not a whore," lifting her head to fix her gaze on Jay's again she shrugged softly, "as long as I bring in enough digits next to a dollar sign my job is done-- there's no rules and regulations set in stone," she sighed, shrugging again, a habit she was starting to pick up, an annoying one at that, "well I thought we hit it off well, you know, when we met. With my riveting conversation skills and personality it may be hard to believe, but I don't have many friends," the smile that spread across her lips was goofy, a small chuckle passing, "so I thought I should take advantage of our meeting and push this into a friendship," sucking air through her teeth she pursed her lips for a moment and shook her head, "I'm only a bit selfish, huh?"
Why, oh why wonât these figures just sit right?
Maybe their chairs aren't comfy enough.
Or Libby-- call me either one.
Would you like my spot? I quit.
Hey, quitters never win and winners never quit. Now I won't take your spot, but I'll join and help you out. Lord knows my butt needs a good workout.
Pumpkin Spice Latte already?
Iâve heard of the supposed obsession white girls have with Starbucks, plus their need to upload photos of their coffee adventure to Instagram. Are they really that bad? Iâm curious. True, if the best drink of all time was permanently on the menu then there wouldnât people whoâd be counting down the days to have it. For example, us. Thatâs⊠I like the name, but I believe there wouldnât be enough room on a cup to fit it all in, unless we abbreviate it to JWPSL. Iâm not even gonna try pronouncing that. Obama should pass a law for Sundays to be latte days, or a day for people to simply relax with a hot drink.Â
As a witness of a white girl in her natural habitat, I have to say yes. If they don't upload pictures of their Starbucks it's like they never actually had any. It's funny, actually, because I bought a supply of instant pumpkin spice latte inserts from Starbucks last year and have been sparingly drinking them-- almost like weaning them so that I never really stop. Christ, I sound like an addict or something. JWPSL and STH. Really though. The only people who get excited about church on Sundays are the old men who perk up when the altar boys bring the wine out. Free wine and little boys: a perverted old man's wet dream, who needs heaven?
