marty gilford.

❛ i'm put together beautifully, big wet bottle in my fist. big wet rose in my teeth, i'm a perfect piece of ass. with high-beams shining up my back, a wingspan unbelievable. i'm a festival, i'm a parade.

[mrtglfrd]

PAULINE

gum-chewing continues and she stares him dead in the eye for a minute ; full pout put on as the teenager just sits there. his reply is expected and doe eyes bear a kind of uncertainty, maybe even sadness. she’s not WANTED, she understands —- but it’s hard for someone who seeks attention so badly. hands find each other on the counter and the brunette corrects her posture: she wants to look CONFIDENT and willful. and she is, at least to an extent.  ❝ no, nothing like that. she just thinks i should be with my . . FAMILY.  ❞ the last bit doesn’t come out easily. her family’s back in new york, people who’ve seen the petite brunette break in her very first shoes.  ❝ like, like you’re my dad and stuff. and i really wanna stay. can’t afford a house on my own, either.  ❞

         He catches her look, takes it as a challenge to stare back. He won’t forfeit an assumed game just because she’s his daughter. Along with her gaze, the sadness within it is EVIDENT, and he’s met with a fleeting pang of guilt. It’s clear to both of them that he doesn’t have a valid reason for not letting her stay, other than his own selfish desires. It isn’t entirely that, it’s just that more time spent with her equates to the inevitably letting her down further. “ You want to stay ? ” He asks, surprise evident in his features, and something about her wanting it, compels him to want to provide. “ I mean, you’d have to sleep on the couch. We’d have to set up GROUND RULES and shit like that... ” He starts, becoming a caricature of a doting father. “ No boys in the house ! ” He mentions sternly, lips pressing firm line. It only takes five seconds before he’s cracking a cheeky grin, a stifled laugh falling from his lips. “ Kidding, I don’t give a fuck about who you bring over. ”

[mrtglfrd]

PIPPA

“ I’m NINETEEN! Twenty in April. If I hadn’t graduated high school yet, I’d be fucking retarded. Like, Emilio Estevez in Breakfast Club level stupid. I’m shocked he wasn’t a super senior. I like to consider myself more of a Judd Nelson as Bender kinda chick — sexy badass type. The amount of times I had detention, I spent more time in school than out. ” The annoyance in her expression was quickly replaced with a smile half smug. Though her words were only recited ( and carefully phrased ) to garner the types of reactions and perceptions she wanted, they weren’t lies. And though activities in detention weren’t exactly ending with pop songs and a fist pump on the field, she had to be a little bit proud of her REBELLIOUS activities, even though they hadn’t made her particularly popular. 

       Her attitude is too reminiscent not to bring forth nostalgic thoughts of high school days. Though, apart from the eventful stories that he’s remembered purely because they serve as great conversation starters, the overall memory of high school is long g o n e, consisting now of large GAPS and slivered fragments. “ Yeah ? What’did you get detention for ? ” He asks, his interest piquing for comparison purposes. Mainly, he wonders if teachers were still as big as DICKS in the nineties as they were in the early sixties. He’s pretty sure they’d at least have retired the damn CANE by now.

[mrtglfrd]

OLIVER

Pulling away from the other was an act deemed turtorous, but teeth found bottom lip and anticipation was painted across bronze features. She’s compliant and ardent: rushed motions to relieve her of clothing. An ancient t-shirt was the first to hit hardwood floor, remaining cotton underwear soon to follow. Skin exposed to the crisp air around them, frame seeking out the warmth of Marty Gilford. Charcoal gaze finding his, expression remaining amourous.  ❛  Yeah.  ❜  The younger breathes in response.   

       He watches her closely, dilated hazel tones trailing over swift movements and frantic moments. It’s a calculated stupor, utter enamour only fuelling a clarity that’s determined to take EXACTLY what he wants from her. His watchful gaze never deviates, but he takes their lack of connect to kick off his own jeans and boxers along with his tattered white tee. His hand unconsciously gravitates towards his dick, he’s already half-hard at the picturesque sight, one he knows he’ll never tire of. “ Hands and knees, babe. ” His tone favours the direct, his AUTHORITATIVE presence a form of self-preservation, a disallowance to give himself over to her so quickly. 

[mrtglfrd]

CASPER

Brows knit together as the older refrains from accepting ACTUAL CURRENCY– but he doesn’t dwell on it. Quick to repocket his belongings, a bottom lip pouts in consideration. He had money back home, anyway.  ❛  Deal.  ❜  He speaks in agreement, an arm stretched over the counter in an attempt of a confirmative handshake. 

       He gives a firm shake before turning to grab another cola, this one for himself. The period between after-school and rush hour were the sweet spots, a lack of customers giving him free reign to do practically whatever the hell he wanted. Today, it’d be spent bothering the kid who’d made the poor decision to seek refuge in the dim-lit bar. “ I’ve never tried cherry coke. I’ve tried the VANILLA one though, tastes like fucking ass. ”

[mrtglfrd]

MICKEY

Mickey’s never viewed the hospital as a place to take advantage of its patients, a fact that he decides to keep to himself. Rather than entering a disagreement, he takes another swig of burning liquid.  ❛  So… Self-proclaimed best bartender in town, then? S’not really the same, is it?  ❜  The younger challenges, his tone lacking any form of gravity. 

      “ Yeah, maybe not. ” He admits with a small shrug. “ Though, I figure the more you self-proclaim it, the more people will start believing it ain’t so self-proclaimed. ” His theory is applicable to all facets of life, a poorly worded version of faking it ‘til you made it. “ You got a favourite bartender here or something ? ”

[mrtglfrd]

MARION

   lips part, green eyes roving features as if there’s some kind of revelation hidden there — a CODE to be deciphered only by the keenest of interpreters. ❛  yeah —   ❜  she says finally, when she can see nothing in them. it’s not surprise that registers in her face — no, not anything so strong to be resembling interest, but a kind of pleasant and accepting incomprehension. ❛  yeah i guess she would be, to you. that’s good.  ❜  her movements are slower now, grabbing the needful and stepping out with him, head tilted in introspection. ❛  do what well exactly?   ❜

     Her INCOMPREHENSION strikes a chord in him, eyes squinting in order to figure out what she’s so CONFUSED about. He really didn’t think it was that baffling, the joke was RIGHT there. “ I was saying my girlfriend’s good in the SACK. ” The fact that he has to say it is confounding, not to mention that the explanation totally lessens its HILARITY. “ Y’know, DEVIANT ? Like SEXUAL deviant ? ” Wait a minute. “ See. That right THERE ! You did it just then, didn’t you ? Making me EXPLAIN myself. Making me call myself out. ”

[mrtglfrd]

CASPER

       Every last penny of his allowance went towards comic books & raiding the Eclipse’s concession stand. But, he’d humour the older by raiding his pockets– emptying its contents on the bar. Gum, a couple cents, & gravel; a souvenir from when he got his ass kicked down by Holt’s. Last time he shopped for groceries directly after school. He shrugs, pushing the coins in Marty’s direction.  ❛  You got tabs?  ❜  

      He pockets the gum, but leaves the pennies as his daily act of KINDNESS. He ponders the others QUESTION, weighs the pros and cons and decides that he really doesn’t give a fuck even if the kid NEVER pays him back. He pushes the bottle of cola toward the boy. “ You have a WEEK, after a week I start charging INTEREST. Deal ? ”

[mrtglfrd]

MICKEY

     A small sigh makes its way past full lips, brows knitting together - in the slightest.  ❛  I’m just a nurse. Gender restrictions are, kinda… a thing of the 50′s. ❜  The younger shrugged, not having entered the bar to defend his occupation.  ❛  Really? Guess I’d have to ask the old man ‘bout that. Think he’d vouch for you?  ❜  Mickey finished, not really having had an interest in his father’s opinions lately. 

      “ Huh. Good for SOCIETY ! Still don’t trust HOSPITALS all that much, fuckers just want to strip ya for everything you’re WORTH. ” He asserts, giving a CALLOUS shrug as if that was just life ( it WAS ). “ Dunno, only met him ONCE if I recall right. ‘Sides I don’t need anyone vouchin’ for me, apart from ME. ”

[mrtglfrd]

PAULINE

@mrtglfrd ;

at first, there’s no movement and petite figure stands still, FROZEN in position. there’s obnoxious gum chewing and it’s debatable if she does it to be annoying or if it’s a nervous habit. one bag’s in her hand, stuffed to the very limit, the other placed next to her feet and she shoves it back, just a little. the last thing pauline wanted to, was to look DESPERATE. the bigger bag finally falls out of her grip and it meets the bar’s floor with a thud. pauline’s placed herself onto a barstool, with fingertips tapping on wodden counter and it’s LOUD ENOUGH to have everyone notice her.   ❝ hey, pa.  ❞  her tone is softer than usual and for once, she just acts like every other kid her age.  ❝  so, we like oli, right? and oli thinks that —- well, that you should make some room for me. so, yeah. think we could do that?  ❞

        It takes him one moment too MANY to recognize that it’s his daughter that’s APPROACHED him. Before he can even return the greeting, words fly from her lips, and it’s all a little much for the guy who’s just STARTED his shift. His expression is DAZED, brows raised as if he hadn’t comprehended what she just said. He HAS, of course, just doesn’t really like the idea. It’s not HER, well, maybe it is a little bit, but it’s mostly HIM. “ Uh, I thought you and Oli were doing fine, thought it worked out WELL yeah ? ”  He questions, not trying to make his opposition to the idea TOO apparent. He had a fatherly responsibility, but he’d SHUNNED it the moment she’d stepped into town, and it wasn’t like anything had really CHANGED. “ I’ll talk to her. If you want. Get this SORTED out. You two have a FIGHT or something ? ”

[mrtglfrd]

PIPPA

❛ Circles ARE infinity. Isn’t that, like, what pi is about? I might have failed algebra, but I got a D plus in geometry.  ❜

      “ Fuck if I know, I BARELY even GRADUATED. You graduate yet ? ”

[mrtglfrd]

OLIVER

They’ll never make it farther than Hartford. If they’ll ever get out of Sheffield, she doubts. But it doesn’t matter. Her only concern is his presence and he’s there and she loves him. It’s a small demand but it’s enough to keep a beaming expression shine through. Legs wrap around the older and lips refuse the disconnect that comes with speaking. Though she accepts it – the small space created by empty promises; because whether empty or not, he’s got her eating out of the palm of his hand. And they both know it. Kisses are reciprocated and she wonders if elation has ever come this easy sober before.  ❛  Going soft on me, Gilford?  ❜  Her words breathing nostalgia & infatuation. 

      She hardly needs the CONFIRMATION to an inquiry where the answer is already known. “ It’s your fault. ” He quips, placing BLAME a second nature no matter the HONEYED intent that charges the comment. “ Clothes off. ALL of them. ” He whispers, his lips never leaving her flesh for more than a MOMENT, his hands unbuckling his belt and slipping it from its loops in one fluid motion. “ You TRUST me baby ? ” He knows she does, even if she SHOULDN’T, even if he DOESN’T. 

[mrtglfrd]

OLIVER

       Thoughts of disapproving relatives & friends have been pushed aside: instead, arms are quick to wrap around his neck and her lips hurry to lock with Marty’s. Motions are rushed, but she doesn’t mind. Because a heart is beating and stomach is fluttering, the brunette letting a full frame be brought closer to his own.  ❛  Mhm,  ❜  She refuses to put further space between them, murmuring into a newly sought out kiss. She allows herself to sink down onto the mattress, the older’s weight pushing her further into the soft material.  ❛  You, a tux–  ❜  Unrefined sentence punctuated as teeth graze his fuller lip.

     A CONVENTIONAL wedding wasn’t in the cards, yet his mind still wanders into utopian territory. An aisle to walk down, CHANDELIERS and champagne. The pride of onlooking family, the feeling of falling into PLACE. It’d never happen like that, with his penchant for CHOAS and the nature of the two being the perfect target for CRITICISM, but each other had never NOT been enough. “ I’m gonna get you the BIGGEST diamond. ” Casual lies are swept under SWEET intentions, as hands tug at the collar of her shirt. “ We’ll go to Paris and fuck at the top of the EIFFEL tower. ” He smiles against her lips at the thought, elation brimming from PIPE DREAMS, her in a white dress and him in a tux.

[mrtglfrd]

 OLIVER

       Of things expected by the older, two words weren’t among ones predicted. They force silence to fall between them, her touch settling against his midriff: digits curling with thin fabric. It isn’t a question of  YES OR NO:  it’s whether sincerity was to be found in ageing features. The bold statement had done more than put the brunette on the spot. Ribcage endured hurried beats, Oliver Halonen experiencing her first  high  since  toxins had been flushed out of her system. And down the bathroom sink drain. Tears threaten stygian tints and ample lips manage to form something akin to a smile.  ❛  Okay.  ❜  She breathes out: lungs on fire & heart in her throat.

        It might not be CLARITY, but it’s close enough, slow motion dissipating under the thrill of her one worded response. His chest RISES and FALLS with unparalleled rapidity, his smile broad as he lets the air linger just a little while longer with PARALYTIC electricity. He’s fearless, infinity on his shoulders, all whilst COMPLETELY and utterly sober. He could look at her all day, but he’d rather KISS her. He pulls her close, her head still within the grasp of his hands, her in the POSSESSION of him. His kisses her with DESPERATION, contact fleeting as he pulls away in order to pull her CLOSER. “ You’re gonna look so hot in a WEDDING dress. ”

[mrtglfrd]

OLIVER

       She wants to yell. She wants to kick & scream & tell him jack-shit is okay. But the most dominant emotion remains love. A fucked up desire to be closer to him, despite everything he’d put her through. Despite everything that she’d put him through. So, she nods: breathing out, thighs parting. Head against the bedframe, eyes return to being closed. Every shard of attention given to his touch: forced, and she tries. But every attempt to derail apprehensive & noxious thoughts fails. Because her mind can’t be turned off and she can’t give herself into the act. Dark brows crease, words leaving the brunette ones she’d once prayed for to be unspoken.  ❛  I love you.  ❜  The phrase would be thrown back in her face. She’d be ridiculed, wounded beyond repair, regretful of the moment she allowed it. And she didn’t care. It was to be expected, and it was what she’d get. And maybe, just maybe, words would be enough to drive him further away– maybe a declaration of emotions unpromised would be enough to end the pair for good. 

    The space collapses in on him, actions rendered a STATIC tableau in the midst of feelings that bypass the CALM and STORM through him. His ability to think straight is a blown out fuse, her love a inimitable force that’s made him like THIS. Instinct forces him to look up, that’s his first MISTAKE, it won’t be his last. Everything’s slower, his motions fighting against a current that wants to force them APART, attempting to keep him from ruinous INEVITABILITIES. He finds a balance on his knees, settled in the space between outstretched legs. Hands seek either side of her face, thumbs circle softly against flushed cheeks. “ Yeah ? ” He asks, a melancholy SMILE tugging at lips. He’s sorry, but it’s already done. He’s SORRY, but she owns his entirety, ENTIRELY. He blames it on FATE, a pre-destined decision that disallows any other possibility but ONE. “ Marry me. ” The possibility of FOREVER. A measure of those three words.

[mrtglfrd]

MARION

❛   but  that  kind  of  SPECIFICITY  means  they  must  stand  out  to  you  —  right?   that  means  they  deviate  in  your  eyes,  from  blondes  and  redheads …   something  you  ascribe  a  different  behaviour  or  —  meaning.  inspires  your   artistry.    deviant.  ❜  she  is  already  paying  for  what  she’s  come  there  for  —  efficiency  is  when  you  have  three children  all  by  yourself,  it’s  become  something  of  second  nature  to  her.  the  difference  is  she’s  handing  over  the  items,  but  LOOKING  at  marty.  level-up?  maybe.   ❛  i’m  not.  not  refined…  or  mysterious…  or… better.   what  if   i  told  you  i’m  just  —  a  normal,  self-serving  woman  trying  her  best?  ❜  the  serene  expression  on  her  face  serves  as  a  thick  DAM  against  what  she  may  or  may  not  be  thinking.  is  she  serious?  is  she  joking?   does  she  mean  it?

      “ S’pose my girl’s a DEVIANT. ” He muses, pursed lips cracking a grin alongside raised brows. “ If you know what I mean. ” As if his CHARACTER weren’t evidence enough of the INTENT behind that first line. He doesn’t care much for anecdotes that aren’t about HIM, but he’ll let it slide for the sake that it’s CRASS enough and he CAN’T help himself. Despite the LEVITY in his DEMEANOUR, he lets her words weigh on him, pressing his lips together once more, but this time with an air of CONTEMPLATION. “ Nah, I’ve met woman who are trying their BEST and they don’t do it HALF as well as you do. ”

[mrtglfrd]

OLIVER

       Any other day, his touch would be welcomed; neck strained to give him room, erasing any space left between them. Any other day. Initially, he’s not forced away. But neither is he encouraged: eyes closed and brows furrowed, she fights the growing ache in her chest. Past acts claw at her mind and she thinks, if she focuses, that she can still feel the presence of another. Senses are flooded; a mind scattered and skin burning. Emotions acting as a whirlwind in her head, and finally, eventually, she allows herself to move against the older. But palms press against his shoulders and he’s pushed away from a trembling frame. Knees are brought up to her chest, back pressed against the headboard. Her gaze is avoidant of his and she intends for it to stay that way.  ❛  You should go.  ❜ 

       Contact is cut SHORT, but her hands on his shoulders still feel NICE. It’s okay, even if she’s shaking and there’s clothes on the floor that aren’t HIS. He squeezes his eyes open and shut, it rids them of BLEAR but clarity remains HIDDEN. It’s a mosaic of blurred FRAGMENTS, past and present. She wields the wrong end of a magnet, it only brings him CLOSER. Lips on shins, hands on her knees, pressing them APART. “ It’s okay. ” He whispers against her skin, a lie that can’t be believed no matter how BEAUTIFUL. “ It’s okay. ” The beginnings of a MANTRA, a consolation for her actions, and HIS. “ It’s okay. ” A plea, but DISHONESTLY was on BOTH of their lips. 

[mrtglfrd]

OLIVER

       Everything had its limit. Oli had hers, one that had been crossed by the older. And the amount of time she was prepared to wait, it’d expired only days prior. It’d resurface; hell, it did right away, but acts made in the window of time where it didn’t– those were ones too final. Words tug at her heartstrings, chest feeling heavier by each & every word spoken. Though, the last were what shattered an illusion of possible innocence.  ❛  I don’t either.  ❜  A statement soon to appear to lack any depth & meaning. But she doesn’t. And she’s PAINFULLY aware of the fact. Despite the wounds they inflict upon one another, Oliver Halonen lacked the desire to end it. Truly, end it. Even then, she wasn’t built for forgiveness: and despite Marty bringing it out, he also brought out treacherously destructive behaviour. Break-ups might be impulsive & fleeting, and the need to reunite is quick to strike. But intents to hurt the other is far more prominent and it overshadows any love she carries for the male. 

       He’ll take HARDENED words and mould them with the HEAT of his hands, into something usable, something SELFISH. However desolate seeming her sentiment, he chooses to take it at FACE VALUE, letting the belief that NORMALCY could once more be attained SURGE through him. He just needs a MOMENT. He needs to commit that they could be good for each other, or commit to her DESTRUCTION, either one would DO. He just needs a MOMENT. Fingers in touch against her inner thigh, while his mind remains out of touch. Faded green hues travel leisurely across the room, her room a RARITY. Opened bottles of booze, a much loved issue of POPULAR MECHANICS, clothes artfully strewn across the floor. Though his moment isn’t obsolete of consequence. He NOTICES, how could he not ? His breath CATCHES in the same instant he CHECKS OUT, it’s his only TELL. He doesn’t look at her, just kisses her NECK instead of her LIPS, fingers digging forcefully against her THIGH, held hands an unusable FUTURE.