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@natalieroosa
OOC
HOWDY Y'ALL!!!!!Â
I am back. I am so sorry for my leave of absence. It started off as a hiatus, but then I came across some computer struggles.Â
ANYWAY. I am going to work on replies now. I am so sorry. If you would like to drop our plots, start new plots, etc., just shoot me a message! Thank you.Â
Hiya toots! So after a long and stressful week, I am going to try and find my muse to work on my replies. If I donât post anything tonight, they will definitely be posted sometime this week.
Love yall and sorry for the long delay.
Lucy Hale - Lie a Little Better (Radio Edit)
One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer || Kieren & Natalie
As she slid the card across the bar to him, he let out a long internal sigh. One more thing to keep up with, but outwardly he simply smiled at the woman. âThatâs probably the smarter thing to do.â he responded as he checked her card and put it away. Part of why he hated people keeping a tab was how many complaint calls they got the morning after when their money finally cleared through the bank and charged them for all the drinks. That and drunk people tended to forget their cards and not close tabs, only to show up as soon as they were open to take care of just that.
Kieren watched the screen for a moment, making sure everything went through before handing her, her drinks. He glanced down the bar, making sure everything was handled on the other end before leaning back against the back counter and thinking for a moment how best to answer her question. âIt depends on the night really.â He answered honestly. âSome nights the tips are great and what I get paid well makes up for some of the crazies we get in here. Other nights itâs just slow and you donât really make enough for it to feel worth the trouble.â A slight shrug lifted his shoulder. âI donât know though, obviously I need to make enough to live on, but I honestly just like bartending. Itâs fun, and I get to meet all kinds of people all the time.â
In truth he had started out as a bartender because it was exactly the sort of vantage point his boss in New York had wanted him to have. He saw who came in and out of bars, who they were with, how they acted, what they ordered. It was all valuable information to a man like his former boss. While it had started out as a job of necessity, he had learned to enjoy it. He liked the social aspect of it, and if Kieren was being perfectly honest, he loved having the power of the knowledge that people spilled to him while they were drunk. He hadnât ever used it, at least not here, but it still made him feel as though he had a hidden ace up his sleeve if he ever needed to call upon such knowledge to get himself out of a bind.
With another quick look down the bar he shifted his position so he was leaning his elbows against the front bar and more on eye level with the woman. âSo what brings you here tonight? Most people donât come drinking by themselves without reason.â
"Is this your only job then?" Natalie's voice was calm and collected. She wanted to make a joke about his position and why he does what he does, assuming taking drunks home from the bar to blow off some steam, but she didn't want to offend this man--especially in a bar scene. "Were you too good to be the bouncer out front? I think he was pretty sure sure that my ID was fake, but that didn't stop him--" she paused, thought back to what she had just said, and tried to not worry the bartender. "Not that it's fake or anything, you can see it if you want...." Fuck, she mumbled under hear breath. The ID she had given to the bouncer was in fact real, but it actually had her real name on it. She prayed silently, hoping that the man would not feel inclined to check her ID or else she would have to give him one of her many fake IDs that rested in her coat pocket.Â
As the man rested himself against the bar, Natalie leaned back, uncertain and uncomfortable of how close he had just put himself. "I, uh... I..." she stuttered, unsure of how to actually respond to his question. She reached for her fresh mixed apple martini and took a sip before answering his question. "What makes you think I'm here alone?" she asked, arching her eyebrow with a smirk plastered across her face. She could turn around and point out anyone in this bar to be her pretend boyfriend, but as she turned around to check out any of her potential candidates, she knew that she deserved better than any of the idiotic morons that were here looking defeated just by the consumption of alcohol.Â
While the bartender had a good point, Natalie shrugged. It wasn't really common for people--especially women--to go out alone, but Natalie viewed that as a sign of insecurity. Natalie was extremely comfortable in her skin, and given the lifestyle that she had, being on her own was what she knew and what she did best. She had no problem being at the bar without anyone there with her to get their drink on with her, but she couldn't come out and just tell him that without revealing any personal details like the fact that going to bars was her usual way of meeting new people so that she'd have a place to crash. "Maybe I'm here because fate brought us together," she laughed, and took another drink of her apple martini, this time making sure that she drank more than just a sip. Â
leap of faith ⢠tennessee & ???
There was nothing special or remarkable about St. Maryâs Catholic Church, other than the fact that the buildingâs exterior was beautiful. Besides, heâd seen it so many times in passing that heâd grown used to its elegant architecture. So he didnât know what had made him stop in his tracks and hop off his red bike. It certainly wasnât reverenceâno, it was doubt. It was doubt that made his pedals falter, clouding his thoughts. In fact, itâd been nagging away at the back of his mind for a while now, but this was the first time he was facing the music. He climbed up the steps leading to the wooden doors, which, he found upon inspection, were locked. He wasnât sure if he was supposed to feel disappointed at that.
Tennessee considered himself as a non-practicing Catholic. Although he didnât go to mass every Sunday, he did believe in the existence of one God, the Father Almighty, creator of heaven and earth. But how was he supposed to continue believing, when he had red cuts above his eyebrows and bruises on his arms from yet another fight? How was he supposed to continue when his own religion rejected and denounced what he was; when they described his existence with words like intrinsic moral evil and contrary to the natural law; when they sided with the assholes who spat slurs at him and laughed?
Swallowing hard, the young blond kicked (albeit weakly) at the Thanksgiving Day Mass sign out of pure impulse, a loud clang piercing the tranquil night. Thanksgiving was over long ago, why did they even have this thing lying around? He then bit down on his lower lip, suddenly feeling stupid and immature. Kicking random objects wasnât going to resolve anything. He sniffled, angry and confused and cold. Perhaps heâd better just head home and pretend it had never happened, like usual.
What exactly was it about religion that stood out to people, Natalie had wondered countless times throughout her life. She remembers distinctive conversations with her dad back when she was younger about his religious faith. Natalie was a firm believer in God, or a greater power at that, but she could never fall into a religion. In the eyes of the young woman, religion was almost like a disease that you chose to have. She believed that the only reason people sought out religion of any kind was just so that they could feel safe and secure, and that was just pathetic in Natalie's state of mind. Having a religion was basically having another book of law that told you how to live your life. People of any religion commit sins all the time, but they don't get the heat for it. Going to church does not make you a good person, but somehow, Natalie managed to wind up outside of the church doors.Â
Natalie took a seat on the steps leading up to the beautiful church's doors. Something about being near a church brought back the memories of her father. All of their trips to the park, the beach, and even the occasional stroll down the small town of Amana just to see all the beautiful things that life had to offer--like horses. Natalie's never been on a horse, but she's always wanted to. Her dad promised her that when she got older that he would buy her a horse. It never happened. Startled by a loud, abrupt noise, Natalie lost track of her thoughts and stood up on the stairs the church. She noticed a blond haired man on the church's property, who was visibly bothered by one thing or another, and who, from Natalie's perception, decided to take it out on a Thanksgiving sign.Â
"Did that sign look at you the wrong way or do you just have a habit of going around kicking around signs?" Natalie said playfully.Â
Lucy Hale
One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer || Kieren & Natalie
It was just a given that Friday and Saturday nights would be packed to the rafters, and this Friday was no exception. It was always loud, chaotic and where they made the most profit. The crowd was a mix of adults off from work, college students off from class, and highschool students who were rich enough to afford an ID that looked authentic. You could spot them a mile away, cheeks flushed from the excitement, bouncing on the balls of their feet in nervousness. You could almost see the sweat running down their brows at the thought of getting caught, but that was half the fun. The owner of the bar didnât care who was in his establishment as long as they paid with good money and had the sense to not get caught.
Being a bartender on a night like this meant you had to be on the alert at all times. You had to keep up with orders and make sure all customers were served in a timely manner, as well as keep an eye out for pukers, dealers, and people trying to start a fight. Pukers needed to be rushed outside or to the nearest bathroom, dealers needed to be kicked out, and fights needed to be defused before a riot broke out.
It was in the chaos that Kieren heard the familiar call for drinks that had to grab his attention. The patron was a dark haired woman who looked young enough to be a highschool student, but one look over her confirmed that more than likely she was supposed to be here. She was too calm, too sure of herself to be anything else. âYes maâam,â was his automatic response as he began the practiced dance of all seasoned bartenders. It was vital to have a group of coworkers who were comfortable enough with each other to avoid collisions and to fix drinks fast enough to keep up with the demand. âTwo pina colada shooters and an apple martiniâ Â he repeated aloud to himself as he worked. âAre you paying as you go or opening a tab?â he asked, looking up from his work to the woman whose drinks he was fixing. Part of him hoped she would just pay for her drinks, a tab meant one more thing to keep up with, and one more patron that was probably going to get drunk enough to need a taxi later.
Natalie studied the man as her worked, making his way around the other side of the counter. The idea of bartending always fascinated her, although she knew that she would never have the patience to mix up drinks in a timely manner while a crowd of people stood nearby, hovering the bar. The bar scene, especially on the weekends, was like living with a bunch of animals. All of these people crowded around a countertop requesting drink after drink. She didn't understand it, but who was she really to judge when she would be doing the exact same thing that very night.Â
As the bartender mixed up her drinks, Natalie took a seat on the stool, slipping her black peacoat off in the process, and folding it before setting it down on lap. Her head perked up as the man asked he if she were planning on opening a tab or prefer to pay out of pocket. "Whichever one gets me drunk the quickest," the young woman mumbled under her breath before sliding her card in his direction. "I'll open the tab, considering that's where most of my money is stored," she said more clearly this time around. Truth be told, she'd probably end up using cash and her card that evening. While Natalie had made a decent amount of money by stealing or suckering people into giving her cash by giving them favors in return, she was beginning to run low on the money she had made. She had a twenty dollar bill in her pocket, and a few hundred in her bank account.Â
"How much do you actually get paid for dealing with these idiots?" she asked, her thumb pointing to the crowd of people swarming behind her. "Certainly not enough," she assumed, letting out a short laugh.Â
And the Experts Say || Charlotte & Natalie
Charlotteâs hands were clasped tightly in her lap while she fluctuated between wringing them nervously and tapping a repetitive pattern on her thighs. She had spent the past five minutes thinking the same question over and over again. What the hell am I doing here? Clearly she was in need of professional help. Charlotte wasnât insane or a danger to anyone, but she had spent so long internalizing everything and bottling up her feelings that it was finally beginning to take its tole. Talking to a professional had started sounding more and more logical as the years went by.
Even so, she still found herself questioning why she had decided today of all days to try ripping off that particular band-aid. The closer the time to her intake appointment drew nearer the more she felt like bolting for the door and never looking back. Maybe this was all a mistake. Maybe she wasnât ready to start facing her demons just yet.
Charlotte was so absorbed in her mental debate leading nowhere that she didnât even notice the young woman take a seat next to her. It wasnât until the brunette asked her a question that she jumped slightly before looking over and feeling foolish for startling so easily. If this girl hadnât suspected her of being a quack before she probably did now. âNo⌠No, I came on my own.â It probably wasnât a serious question, but she answered it as such.
Natalie's eyes observed the blond seated next to her. The woman appeared to be very tense and lost in her own world, but it was in Natalie's nature to approach anyone within her view. Natalie was all about forming relationships with those that surrounded her, even if she didn't actually know how to have an actual relationship of any kind. While Natalie did have people that she would talk to in the past and hang out with on occasion, she never referred to any of these people as her friends. For her, everything was temporary. Why bother continually hanging out with people when they have the ability to leave you at any moment without a word? Natalie thought all of it was simply a waste of time. But reasons like this were the exact reason that she stumbled into the mental health clinic this day in time.Â
"Shocking." Natalie said, and she meant it. Her eyes narrowed in on the young woman sitting next to her. She couldn't possibly be real, could she? Who would actually agree to come to a place like this without having been bribed to? Natalie shrugged. "So, uh, what's your condition then? Have you been here before? Are the therapists any good?" Her questions came out like word vomit. She was genuinely curious because the situation simply didn't make sense to her.Â
"No offense to you or anyone, but..." she cut herself off in an attempt to gather her words, and make sure that what she said wouldn't offend the woman. "But aren't therapists just a crock of shit? I mean, who really wants to sit down in an office with a complete stranger and listen to their pathetic problems for forty-five minutes? I now understand why therapists make as much as they do."Â
As a Viper Would || Natalie & J.J.
The chill weather warning on Jasonâs phone had him feeling more sympathetic than ever for the temporary residents at one of the HomeAid sponsored womenâs shelters.Â
Heâd been doing charity work all week. This was easy, and comfortable; he liked folding clothes and distributing them accordingly, sorting the extras into plastic tubs. The Make-A-Wish Foundation game on Sunday had made him more nervous. Off-season baseball wasnât a big deal, but Jasonâs heart bled for the ill, and he wasnât good with children. From the Make-A-Wish game, theyâd gone on to a firehouse fundraiser, and more charity work almost without pause. It had been a stressful week.
Jason loved his volunteer work. He loved the good vibes; the thoughtful contentment that generated through the floor. These women had stories to be told, but inside shelters they were safe and treated well; and supply days were exciting. The most humbling prospect was the volume of its residents, particularly the ones with children. His heart softened for them. Though he had been too young to remember it clearly, he and his mother had spent almost two weeks in a womenâs shelter when they arrived in America while her passport cleared, waiting for his father to find them. She never spoke ill of their time there.
Most of the team was with him, but that didnât amount to much. With some of them missing, it amounted to six of them, and a handful of other female volunteers. He slipped up beside one of them and began sorting toiletries into bags. She was a slight thing, with dark hair and light skin. He was comically taller than she was, by almost a foot.
"Do you volunteer here a lot?" he asked, passing finished bags over her shoulder to settle into a bucket for distribution.
Natalie was no stranger to shelters. Back home in Iowa, she had been in and out of them ever since she turned eighteen and up until she decided to move to Virginia in search of her estranged brother. While she never had a bad experience within a shelter, it wasn't a place that she enjoyed spending her time at. With living in a shelter came a lot of stereotyping and other negative criticism. While most of the people that she had met in shelters had heart-wrenching stories, Natalie felt like she was taking advantage of a resource that was ultimately for those that truly had no other place to go. For Natalie, while she didn't really have any living relatives that she knew about back when she was in her late teens/early twenties, she never felt like she had the right to stay in a shelter. While Natalie didn't have the healthiest ways of finding a place to stay, she knew that she had the ability to and for her, that was all that mattered. She knew that her lifestyle wasn't meant for everyone.Â
With a new scenery came a new outlook for the young woman. She had hopes of changing her ways upon up and moving to Virginia, but it never crossed her mind that it'd be this difficult. With this desire to change her ways, she decided that staying at a shelter for a few nights wouldn't hurt. She tracked down the local shelter. It was a shelter designed for woman. After her arrival, she learned about her roommates lives but none of their stories really phased it. Their stories weren't anything that she hasn't heard about already from past shelters, and this made her cringe. Everyone's story was, what she believed, required to be different. Most of these women were here due to domestic violence or some form of addiction. Domestic violence wasn't something that made sense to Natalie--why would someone abuse the person that they claim to love, and why would the person being abused stay with someone who treats them so poorly? While so many men and women have told Natalie their reasons as to why they did the assaulting or why they stayed with the person, it was something that still never clicked with Natalie. Natalie was all about love and peace, but she was also ignorant when it came to these situations because it's not one she was ever actually a part of nor had she witnessed it.Â
While Natalie was member of the shelter, she felt it was her duty to help the shelter out with their needs. She stood next to a long table where she assorted toiletries into bags, occasionally glancing up to check out what the volunteers were doing. There was something about volunteers that genuinely made Natalie happy. The fact that someone would take time out of their day to give back and help women who didn't really have the courage or strength to help themselves was mind blowing, but beautiful and admirable nonetheless. Natalie was approached by a tall, slender dark-complexioned man. He assumed that she was a volunteer at the shelter, which made conversation come more naturally. Natalie wouldn't feel obligated to open up to him about anything that happened in her past, nor would she have to be honest about her real name and have him question on if she's being honest about it or not.
"Actually, no, I don't. I'm new to the area, but with it being the holidays, I felt like it was my duty as a human being to give back to those in need." The words flowed so naturally for Natalie. And, for a minute, she almost believed her own words. She flashed the man a smile as she continued sorting her items. Â
