no gold pavements

And for eternity I'd lay in bed in my boxers, half stoned, with the pillow under my head. Philip Vogel twenty-seven Westbrook drug dealer + construction foreman @ vogel construction and renovation

[philip-vogel-archive]

anniejoncs:

‘‘I do have to admit that you are alot of fun, and you were the very reason I used to get grounded all the time in highschool!’‘ She laughed, reminiscing about old times, letting out a laugh.’‘Philip, you don’t have to convince me to come out, I’m already going to.’‘ Annie rolled her eyes, letting out a sigh at the other as they staged their dramatic exit from the bus. ‘‘I’ll call you when I wake up!!’‘ 

———-TIMESKIP———-

Annie was just putting her coat on as she got ready to leave her apartment; she’d come home and had a quick shower, a nap and about three cups of coffee and she was ready to head into town to meet Philip. Grabbing her phone and quickly dialling his number, she waited until he picked up. ‘’Right then loser, I’m awake. Where are you at?’’

There was tons of chatter in his surrounding, however, it was all white noise to him at this point. Philip was so out of his mind, nothing was feeling real; as per usual. The only thing that held his attention long enough was a buzzing in his pocket. 

A small confusion was set across his face, hand digging into his jeans to pull out his phone. And only then did his eyes widened at the name across the screen, voice booming over the hecticness in the background, “Annie! -- You good to go? C’mon on down-- I--” His words were clearly slurred to all hell, but Lip was getting by as much as he could. “I dunno where I am, but-- I can-- I’ll just send you my location-- yeah, yeah--” 

Pulling the phone away from his ear, Philip did exactly that-- texting his current area to her. All he knew was that he was in North End-- it was clear from the layout of the map, but the bar itself was unknown to him. “Did you get that?” His voice was slightly upped in volume, only until the phone was placed back up to the side of his face, “--Did you?”

[philip-vogel-archive]

taylorwilkinson:

“What kind of time?” She responded quickly. There was something about Taylor that was both equally curious and annoying. But she had her sickeningly sweet side that a lot of people couldn’t help but crumble around. However, she knew getting Philip to crack wouldn’t be easy by any means but she felt his pain. Or rather, could see it because he seemed to give up hiding it. Jokes aside, the humor melted away and she tucked a piece of hair behind her ears before turning towards him completely. There were only a few people in this world who could distract her from junk food and here she was, putting Cheetos to the side. 

“There’s plenty to say. You just don’t know how to say it.” She placed a palm on his thigh and looked at him, waiting for him to say something but again, Taylor knew it wouldn’t be that easy. But at least he went as far as to say things were slowly adding up. It was a phrase she didn’t even expect from him. “What’s the thing that’s bothering you the most? Whatever comes to your mind first is probably it. I just think you should talk about it. It never helps anyone to walk around in pain all the time.”

There was plenty to say-- Much had happened in his life up until this point, and everything was just increasingly becoming a bit harder to withstand. Or at least, to do so on his own.

Philip wasn’t the type of guy to put all of his own shit onto others-- unless it was some minor manipulative thing for his own benefit. But this stuff-- Nah, it was just his own personal thing. He just wasn’t sure if the part of him dying to let it all out was strong enough to do so. 

“I don’t know--” It seemed that recently these were the only damn words in his vocabulary; the hesitance to say anything seeming to win any decisions here. But underneath it all-- he did know. It was a multitude of things, so perhaps the hesitation had more to do with the lack of knowing which to speak of first. 

“I feel stuck, I guess. -- I fell back into a pit, and there’s just all this other shit.” Philip paused for a moment, tongue inching out to rush over his bottom lip, “And there’s this chick...who’s so fine, but-- I get carried away. Even more so. And a part of me doesn’t care at all. I’m just in this depressive slump, and I dunno what to do about it. -- It’s whatever, it’s stupid.”

[gunner-kilian-deactivated201812]

Bad Influences

[philip-vogel-archive]

private-i-hawthorne:

Reid chuckled at his response, cracking open his beer and taking a large swig of it, the harsh swallow followed by a satisfied sigh. “No, not particularly, my life is just as boring but we somehow always manage to find things to talk about.” He laughed, “You fuck anyone interesting lately? Or, would that fall in with most of the shit that you cant remember doing?” The male teased, taking another large sip from the bottle his hand was curled around. “I personally haven’t been with anyone too exciting as of late, aside from Kevin Roscoe that is. Christ, is he a good lay.” Reid explained, setting the bottle down for a second and running his hands over his hair as he spoke whilst thinking back on how the last few people he had slept with had been an almost mediocre level of average, which while it wasn’t a bad thing, it didn’t make for good conversation. 

With the comment, Philip’s lips perked up into that of a smirk, though it was quickly halted by the act of taking a hefty sip. As the bottle eased down from his lips, Philip nodded along, “So may play into the me not remembering shit--” With that said, he chuckled a few times before a brow was raised, “Kevin? -- You fucked Kevin, huh? I sell to that dude sometimes. That’s kinda funny, man, but hey-- good for you.” 

“But, uh-- Yeah, I mean, I’ve been frequenting this one chick. She’s a good time-- we just get stoned out of our minds and fuck and whatever. So, like--” Of course, there was more to this pair-- Philip and Emma -- but he wasn’t going to dive right down into details. Keeping it as simple as possible for the means of this conversation was good enough. “The chick’s got some major claws, man. My back gets fucked up every time, and it’s fuckin’ worth it.”

[philip-vogel-archive]

anniejoncs:

‘‘I have too many responsibilities to do that. I have work to go to, bills to pay, I have to look after Elijah, and the apartment. If I decided to sleep for the day, the world might just stop.’‘ Annie over-exaggerated, rolling her eyes and letting out a chuckle, 

‘’Really.’’ Annie was in the mood to take a day, have some time that was just for her. Forget about the horrible fight that she’d had with Elijah. Forget about all the bullshit that happened to go with the argument. Annie just wanted to have a day that was just about her, and catching up with an old friend and most importantly, getting drunk. ‘’Awesome! I shouldn’t be too long, I’ll take an hour nap and get ready quickly, but I’ll definitely hit you up. We better have a good time! Thats it you’ve set the bar now..’’ 

“Oh, come on, when did we ever not have a good time when it was all placed in my hands? -- You gotta admit, Annie, I’m a great time.” There was a slight nudge of the side of his body up against hers, his classic smirk forming -- once again -- across his lips; eyes practically smiling in their own way too. “Plus-- after hearing all those responsibilities, you deserve some time off. That home life sounds like a damn job. So--” Glancing out the window, he noticed some familiar settings of the street; taking note that this was probably his best bet as a stop. 

Reaching across her, Philip yanked down on the yellow string-- the sign for a stop request lighting up. As the bus ventured off to the side of the road, Lip swung himself up out of the seat, using the assistance of the standing pole. With how he landed, so to say, Philip was still facing her a fair amount and continued on, “You better call me up, ‘cause if you forget, I’ll sure as hell bug the shit outta you.”

With a bit of a salute, the shaggy haired male went on his way, exiting the bus and walking out onto the sidewalk.

[philip-vogel-archive]

emma-martinelli:

rafedelgado:

+ A crease forms between his brows as Lip’s name, alongwith a comical photo that usually elicits a small smirk, lights up on his phone screen. Not only did the ringtone bring a halt mid-rap toCountry Grammar, but it’s mainly due to the fact he’s aware of what Lip’s eveningsplans entailed: hanging out with Emma, to guise it as a PG-13 version. 

A fleeting moment of hesitation stalls him. Though he understandshow unlikely it is for an invitation to be extended considering the nature oftheir relationship and the states they’d both be in, he’s starting to run outof excuses to avoid seeing her without making things too obvious. And so,disregarding his own reluctance, he answers the call, figuring whatever it iswould be of some importance. 

Boy, had he underestimated. 

“Yoo-” Immediately cut off as disjointed stammers fills the air of hiscar, the urgency and desperation palpable in Lip’s voice. “Bro, bro, calmdown–” At first, he assumes there’s a physical conflict of some kind.Other dealers, possibly gangs, or even the people responsible for thebreak-ins. Rafe’s alarmed, but doesn’t quite panic yet. He can handle thosesituations. Whatever it is can be sorted, he stupidly thinks, until Lip saysEmma’s name, and his following words fall onto him like bricks. 

He slams the breaks. Later he’d thank whoever’s watching for therebeing no cars behind him. Hands grip tightly on the wheel, holding the sameinhale since he’d heard the news for what seems a second too long, beforechoking out a breath. “What?!” The word leaves him hushed and contained, but the cascade of emtions finally beginsto hit him. “Oh my Go–” He mutters under his breathagain as Lip continues in frenzy, but Rafe’s voice gradually escalates toexpose his current turmoil. “A’ight, calm down, man. Calm down, yeah? CALMDOWN!” His eyes switch like an enraged mad man, and he turns the cararound, speeding towards Lip’s house without a single care for the lights. “Isshe– is she breathin’? You called an ambulance?! If you haven’t, fuckin’ hangup and call one now. I’m on my way.”

[beep boop beep]

Rafe hammers his fist against the door, not wanting to shout inthe hallway to attract any unnecessary attention. “Vogel, open up,” he growls througha clenched jaw.

Everything was a blur – a blur Emma would never remember. Consciousness slipped through her fingers as the narcotics took their toll on her body; bloodstream diluted and nausea built, but it was all too much for her already frail self to attempt to combat. All that was under her skin was at war, attempting to protect the host that carelessly tried to escape life moments prior. How many moments? She didn’t know, it didn’t register. Things were cold and then they were warm, from the chill of the bathroom tiles to then shaking strength of Philip’s arms. Her eyes opened slowly after a long time, vision blurred but only illuminating her almost boyfriend’s face; the colours were dulled, the tips of his soft hair foggy in her gaze, like everything beside his face was a kaleidoscope. “Lip…” She struggled to speak, the energy for the motion not there. Whatever she wanted to follow it up with couldn’t be aired: no apologies, or no insistence to let fate play its part. All Emma did was close her eyes, head hanging as the effort to remain upright depleted and she went limp once more.

Time was something that stopped making sense; it was both rushing past him in a second, and feeling as though every minute was an hour-- all at once. The mass confusion Philip was experience wasn’t a surprise. Especially as he tried to stay focus on the phone call.

His eyes were glued onto Emma, hoping that she would open her eyes and come back to it, “--Yeah, yeah, I think she’s still breathing. Fuck, man-- I don’t know, I don’t--” His breathing was all over the place, eyes shutting tightly as he tried to shake himself from whatever funk he was experiencing. But it was so fucking difficult to do that-- it was damn near impossible. “-- No, no, I haven’t yet. You’re the first-- I had to call-- I just-- Fuck, man, I’m tripping the fuck out here.” The amount of urgency in his voice never faltered once-- not even in the slightest.  “I gotta-- I’ll-- Fuck-- Okay, I’m gonna call, I’m gonna--” And just like that, the call between Rafe and Lip was cut off, just to make room for something that was probably going to classify as one of the most important calls Philip Vogel would ever have to make. 

911, what’s your emergency?

[time skip]

The sudden noise echoing off of his door was enough to cause a slight jolt from Philip, head quickly snapping to the side-- even though there wasn’t a direct view to the front from where he was situated. Either way, his eyes fell back onto Emma-- hesitate to just leave her laying on the bedroom floor again. But that was a move that he had to make-- he needed back up until the medics arrived on scene. 

Easing her head back down onto the small rug that he had in there, Philip shakily stood up from where he had planted himself for god knows how long. With legs practically asleep, he did his best to rush over, opening up the door just enough to grab Rafe by the collar and drag him inside. 

“Dude-- I fucking told her not to--” With both hands gripping onto Rafe’s shirt, Philip had to make all of this very evident, “I didn’t-- I told her not to, okay, and she didn’t fucking listen to me! I was gonna take her home, and she said she just had to use the bathroom, and I didn’t think nothing of it-- And I didn’t-- She didn’t come out for a while, and I got worried, man. I like-- I fuckin’ felt it, you know? I busted down the door, and--” Letting go, the shaggy-haired male pointed towards the bathroom; the door clearly broken off by the hinges, laying against the floor. “She’s in there-- I didn’t wanna move her-- She’s been breathing, I just checked-- Man, FUCK--” Philip’s hands shot up into the air, only for his fingers to rake through his hair, gripping down onto the strands harshly as he began to pace back and forth. “I’m fucked, aren’t I? -- She got the shit from me, I dunno how she got it, or where she knew to grab that stuff-- Fuck, man-- I told her to chill out, I told her--”

[philip-vogel-archive]

veronica-spencer:

The pushback from Philip wasn’t exactly surprising, though what did send Veronica for a slight loop was the complete lack of energy behind it. The way Lip was behaving wasn’t what Ronnie was used to seeing from him. An entirely unempathetic human being could have looked at him and felt bad. It was irritating because Veronica wanted to be angry with him. She wanted to have stormed in and screamed about what a piece of shit Lip was for putting Emma in this situation and that it was all his fault. But looking at him, watching him drag himself from the couch to the kitchen left her feeling bad for him. 

Clearly, this situation with Emma was fucking with him on a level maybe even Ronnie wasn’t able to understand.

Walking over towards where Lip stood, Veronica’s immediate thought was to snatch the bottle away from him. Alcohol wasn’t going to make the situation any better, though, Veronica knew from experience that sometimes it wasn’t about feeling better, but just doing what you could do to make it to the next day. Lip’s words sent a wave of sadness through Ronnie’s body, suddenly feeling any anger that she might have been harboring towards the male slowly melting away.

“You know, when I went over to Jason’s the night after you two got into that stupid fight, I offered to come over here and kick your ass for him?” She took a few steps closer, a stern look on her face. “And then all this shit with Emma happened and my first thought when Rafe told me she’d been with you was how I could bury your body where no one would be able to find it?” The blonde had never been one to mince words and frankly, felt absolutely no reason to now. Coddling wasn’t going to be her approach with Philip, especially because she knew that it would more than likely do no good. “And then I gave it some time because acting on emotion rather than logic isn’t really my thing…”

As her voice trailed off, Ronnie took a few more steps and this time, she did snatch the bottle of Lip’s hand and placed it back on the counter. “Blaming you for what happened to Emma would be easy and while, yes, you make have given her whatever the fuck she asked for because of whatever your idea of caring about someone looks like, but it wasn’t your fault, okay?” Four words Veronica didn’t think she’d ever be saying out loud. “Emma’s my best friend. I know her better than pretty much anyone else, which means I know that if she wasn’t getting what she wanted from you, she would have found someone else and the same thing would have happened except, maybe that someone else wouldn’t have called 911 and you and I’d be having a much different conversation right now.”

Slowly over time, more and more, Philip’s awakened state wasn’t feeling real at all. He wouldn’t even know how to describe it if someone were to ask. It was just this empty and numb state; a feeling that he pretty much just accepted as normal now. And perhaps the only thing that was keeping him grounded was the cold bottle of beer in his hand; a subtle reminder that this was real life, and he was currently focused on it as the rim left his lips.

If it wasn’t for the fact that Veronica was talking, Philip probably wouldn’t even have registered the fact that she had been stepping closer to her. But, really, what her words exactly were wasn’t something he was tuning into all too much. They went in, they processed, and then they just disappeared-- just like that. There was no proper reaction from him. Facial expression blank, eyes glued to the bottle. That is, until the object was taken from his grasp; eyes quick to finally snap up and make contact with her own. 

There was a part of him that would have snapped, but as he looked at her, no words were forming. He just found himself focused on the blonde in front of him; the particular words she was using now were strong enough to keep him locked in; hitting him directly. So much so that his eyes began to shift-- a clear sign of being uncomfortable, or feeling guilt, or straight emotion-- whatever it was. Philip’s jaw clenched, brows furrowed, and nostrils slightly flaring. If you looked closed enough, you would be able to witness the glossy texture of his eyes -- a slight pink hue looming in the whites of those dark browns, and it wasn’t because there was a certain substance coursing through him. No-- this was all pure emotion. It had been bubbling over since the second the ambulance came to pick her up.

So there was silence.  And it lasted for a solid couple of moments.

Eyes still avoiding any sort of contact as he did his best to bite his tongue. But the state that he was in, it wasn’t a healthy one. And he had been feeling trapped within the confinements of his own mind; assuming that no one would give him that chance for an explanation.

“-- I didn’t wanna hurt her, you know?” Words spoken in a hushed and mumbled tone, “I didn’t--”

[elitereality]

I want to drink, I want to smoke, I want to do every fucking drug in the world, I want to party until I can’t think anymore, I want to go numb again because clearly darling, I just don’t give a damn anymore.

(via elitereality)

[philip-vogel-archive]

ophelia-ohara:

                                               “That’s good,” she said, a smile forming on her lips. “I guess there’s always gonna be someone who needs something built.” She realized that was a major simplification of what people in construction did, but hoped her lighthearted attempt at humor was seen as just that, because of course it wasn’t just building stuff, and from his last remark, she could imagine how frustrating it could be at times—- and just how much work actually went into it. “I can imagine they do. Must be hard to keep up with it all… I don’t know how you do it.” She wondered what the most ridiculous thing he’d ever had requested from a client, but chose not to ask; it didn’t seem like her business, literally.

                     “Oh, I’m back at work. I didn’t really plan on going back until next week, but it’s actually a nice distraction for the most part,” she said, a genuine smile pulling at her lips. She had Adrian, or friends and co-workers walk her to the car though at the end of the late shift, which was somewhat embarrassing, but also still necessary. She could walk along in the daylight, but not after dark— she hadn’t quite figured out to do that without the crippling fear of history repeating itself. “Yeah, but he was one of the persons of interest too, so… I don’t know,” she mumbled under her breath, shaking her head. “It’s a big mess, isn’t it? This whole thing…” She shrugged, didn’t know what else to do.

                      She offered a reassuring smile when their eyes locked for a moment, the optimistic kind that felt genuine because it was— the last thing she wanted to do was bring people down with her, and especially not Philip. Besides, she was, on some level, adamant that everything would be okay in the end. “Oh, uh— just a little milk, thank you.”

“How do I do it? Well--” It was a good question. Because previously, Philip didn’t want to have much to do with it at all. It wasn’t until recent that he decide to pull up his pants, so to say, and really get himself fully invested in this family business. After all-- this was going to be his life, his means of survival forever. Might as well take it more serious. “A little bit of Baileys in a cup always helps.” Or, well-- try to. 

“Oh?” There was a chipper tone in his voice; glad to hear that she had returned a bit earlier than expected. There was something incredibly strong in that. People could handle tragic situations in so many variants-- Philip being one to not process them in the best way, but that was besides the point. Ophelia was showing immense strength, and it was admirable. “Hey-- that’s awesome. Seriously. That’s really, really great. -- Those sorts of distractions are the best distractions, so I definitely applaud you for going that route. It’s really good. And, hey, I mean-- tips, right?” With that slight light-hearted remark, there was this soft-ish smirk that eased it’s way up onto his lips; canine teeth peeking through in the most subtle way-- just enough to classify it as some sort of cartoon-like sparkle. 

Though, it was a grin that also smoothly inched down with the following statement, “Yeah-- it is a mess. It’s fucked. But-- There’s a lot of people around here who didn’t believe those assumptions.-- I, for one, couldn’t picture it a damn bit. Quite honestly, it was almost laughable to me when his name was mentioned.” There was a bit of a humorous scoff that pushed it’s way up from his chest, and a light shake of the head that followed it. “I was surprised they didn’t put more... well-- stereotypical people on that list.” Perhaps this next bit was a joke that didn’t need to be said, but then again, Philip had a tendency to do so, “Like me. I mean--” He motioned towards himself, a playful expression -- brows raised, “C’mon.”

“Just a little milk.” He repeated as the steady pour of the machine finally came to a halt. Reaching over to grab the mug, and placing it directly in front of him, Philip did just that-- gave it a little bit of milk before sliding it off towards her, “Hope that’s alright? -- I’m not much of a barista, as you can see.” And there it was again, the famous Vogel smirk inching back up upon his lips, as Philip slightly turned off to fix himself a cup-- popping another pod in the top, and placing a mug at the receiving end. “I don’t cheap out on the coffee, though, I promise. It’s good shit.”

[gunner-kilian-deactivated201812]

Bad Influences

[philip-vogel-archive]

private-i-hawthorne:

“Fuckin’ A man,” Reid said with a grin plastered across his place, limping slightly over to the other male and fist bumping him as he typically did as a sort of hello/ goodbye type of gesture. “I think we ought to crack a couple of brewskis and play a bit of catch up before we get into full bender mode.” He suggested with a laugh, walking over to the couch and sitting down with a soft grunt, patting the spot across from him, suggesting that Philip should sit down as well. 

Reid typically liked to ease his way into a bender, rather than going all out on the hard stuff right off of the bat. If things were particularly rough for him, he didn’t tend to give a shit but when it came to having fun, rather than just forgetting, Reid had a whole systematic way of getting fucked up. 

With his free hand, arm extended out, Philip met up with the fist bump before nodding along in agreement. “--Ah, okay, man, I feel you. Set the mood and all. Sounds good to me.” Taking a moment to ease into the night would probably be the best idea, anyway; or at least, it definitely would be in Philip’s situation. Day after day, night after night-- Philip had remained in a constant state of non-sobriety. And, honestly, it may not have been stretched too far from his typical-- but this heightened pattern was mirroring that of his overly-messy past. 

Following suit of the other male, Philip eased himself back into the couch, all while settling his bag of goodies near by. Reaching down to grab two beers, he tossed one over towards Reid, and cracked open his own; taking a hefty chug. “So--” He finally muttered out, after a harsh swallow of his drink, “What’s there to talk about? You got some shit you wanna say? ‘Cause my life ain’t that interesting. I don’t even remember half of the shit I do, man.”

[philip-vogel-archive]

anniejoncs:

‘‘Oh my gosh, I am so so tempted. But alas, life happens and I don’t have the time to take to my bed for a whole entire week. Bills to pay, boyfriend to look after and what not.’‘ Annie let out a soft chuckle running a hand through her hair. ‘‘Oh my gosh, that sounds like the total dream. Forget about life, forget about all the bullshit and just burrito yourself in comfy covers for an age.’‘ 

‘‘Y’know, I’m in the mood to get a little drunk today. Let me stop at my apartment, take a shower and a quick nap, drink a fuck ton of coffee and I will definitely hit you up. I think I need to get shit faced, let my damn hair down for five minutes and stop worrying about everyone else.’‘

“-- I mean, technically you do have the time to just lay in bed. You could, quite literally, forget about everything else, but-- You’re just too good of a person. Responsible and shit.” Then again, anyone was responsible and shit compared to Philip.

“-- Really?” Now, that was a notion that peeked his interest. “Little Annie wants to come out and play?” There was this large grin that appeared across his lips, quite happy with how this was all panning out. “Fine-- you go home, do what’ca gotta do, and then I’ll update you on where I’ve stumbled to by that time. -- And don’t worry, after tonight, you won’t be in a state of caring at all. We’ll have a good time. I promise.” Philip laid a flat hand across his chest, head tilting up slightly as if he was proudly swearing an oath. “Scout’s honour.”

[philip-vogel-archive]

ophelia-ohara:

                                        Ophelia wished she knew Philip better, but she was hoping maybe somehow that would change now—- that from now on, they wouldn’t be strangers. If he came into Munchers, she’d definitely make sure he always ate on the house, and was taken well care of. She probably didn’t have the pull to make a decision like that, but she’d make it work somehow, even if she had to take it out of her own pay check. That was, in every way possible, the leasts he could do after everything. “That doesn’t sound half bad. How’s work?” She asked, remembering a little bit about him working in construction. Or at least she was pretty sure he did. “Yeah… thank you. I’m— I’m glad too,” she said and nodded, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink as it always did when even the least bit of attention was attracted to her. “It’s good to be back, and to not… be scared all the time anymore, I guess.” She chuckled a bit, but it was mostly a front. She was still scared sometimes, but not as much as she would’ve been if her name hadn’t been cleared. 

                      She followed him towards the kitchen and picked a spot where she halted, leaning lightly against the counter— momentarily focused on the coffee maker as it made a series of soft noises, probably getting ready. “Oh,” she said when he asked about the man, her lips pushing together for a beat before she continued. “Um, no… not yet. I actually don’t know where they’re at with that at the moment. My brother, he’s— he’s on the force too, but he’s… he doesn’t know anything either. I don’t know why I’m telling you that,” she admitted and chuckled softly. “I hope they find him though.”

“Work is steady--” And it had been for quite some time now. People came in all the time, questioning them about their services and all-- some would leave as new clients, others would always end up coming back for a follow-up. “Got a few new things lined up, just gotta get through the paper work with all of it, though.” Philip knew to keep the construction talk at a bare minimum. Most people didn’t care to hear of it, and honestly, there were time were he didn’t even want to talk about it in the slightest. It was a job that he enjoyed-- but only recently with the upgraded position. “People are just... annoying, though. They want really specific things.”

“Yeah-- Yeah, I bet.” That was the one thing that was tugging at him. The fact that this small, innocent, and kind woman had to walk around with this over-looming sense of fear. Even if she said it was lessened, the shaggy-haired male just couldn’t imagine. “You back at work, yet? Or are you still taking things easy for now?”

He had hoped that asking her about it wasn’t pushing. He truly was just curious-- because, much like many others around town, he was still furious about it all. “Ah-- Right. Your brother.” It was hard to not know of Adrian O’Hara-- he was a person that Philip tried his best to swerve anytime there was a possible deal he was making somewhere out there; well, really, it was just the force in general. 

There was the slightest laugh that bubbled up from him, eyes glancing over real quick to make contact with her own. “Yeah, me too.” After a moment, Philip cleared his throat, eyes switching back to focus in on the coffee; now being able to pour out. “Uh-- Are you a milk or cream kinda person? -- Sugar?”

[philip-vogel-archive]

veronica-spencer:

Veronica’s brow raised, stopping for a moment to try and figure out if Lip’s question was genuine. “You left the door open?” It came out more of a question than a statement, Ronnie in slight disbelief. Taking a moment to glance around Lip’s apartment again, Ronnie’s eyes narrowed as she took in the scene in front of her. It was borderline repulsive, though Veronica wasn’t exactly going to announce. It didn’t seem like the nicest thing to kick someone while they were down and clearly, Lip was much further down the rabbit hole than that. She took another step into the living room, though her arms still remained crossed in front of her.

“Where the hell have you been, dude?” She questioned, attempting to keep some sort of lightness in her tone. “Apparently no one’s heard from you.” Frankly, Veronica wasn’t really sure where this conversation was going to go. Afterall, there was an obvious dark cloud hanging over both their heads, though Ronnie felt like Lip’s was probably a bit darker, if the state of his apartment was any indication.

“Looks like you fired your maid…” She raised her finger and twirled it around as if to emphasize her point, “Not that this place was exactly Caeser’s Palace to begin with, but at the very least it looked like you owned a broom.” She couldn’t help the subtle dig, though she attempted to try and follow it up with an awkward laugh. “Seriously, when was the last time you saw the floor?”

“--Did I?” He couldn’t even recall what he had done in in the last couple of hours. Everything was pretty much a blur up until now, and it was clear with the amount of confusion across his face. But what did it really matter? There was a part of him -- an overwhelming part of him -- that honestly didn’t care at all. The fact that the door was unlocked, that anyone could just waltz inside, didn’t even phase him all that much.

Philip had truly reached that point in his life-- This event causing him to not even care about his own safety.

“Been here.” He mumbled out, the tone of his voice being at maximum monotone. It literally sounded like something was ripped out of him-- any spark that he may have had previously. Even that dumb stoner charm. It was gone. 

There was a bit of a grunted noise as he peeled himself off of his couch, slowly shuffling his feet over towards his kitchen, kicking empties to the side; only to go and grab another cold one. “Does it look like I’ve been anywhere else?” It was a smart ass comment, and if he had any life in his voice, it may have been funny. But in this moment, Philip just appeared pathetic. 

“-- What d’you want, anyways, Veronica?” There was this defensive nature about him, as if he was trying to prepare himself for any backlash that he could possibly get. After all, they were all her friends, and he was the dirty piece of scum that enabled her, right? -- It’s only what he could assume. “Wanted to make sure I didn’t try to off-myself either? ...Yeah, well--” He paused, a deep sigh leaving him as he opened the bottle against the edge of the counter top. ”Still here.” As he spoke, the bottle was pressed up against his lips, “Unfortunately.” And with a bit of a shrug, a hefty chug was taken.

[philip-vogel-archive]

anniejoncs:

‘‘Yes..’‘ Annie gave Phillip a small smile, trying to hide all her other emotions. She was far too tired to start letting all the other shit that was going on come out and be apparent on her face. ‘‘It really does, I’ve never been this tired in my life feel like I could sleep for about a week.’‘ Annie let out a soft chuckle as he told him all about his plans for the day. ‘‘Well that sounds awfully productive, I’m heading home to have a bath, and then I’m going to have to find something to do to keep me awake, because I’m not back tonight and I hate being out of sync. ‘‘

“Hey-- honestly, you should do that. Sleep for a fuckin’ week. Just conk right out. I mean-- I’d totally do that, but I’m pretty sure that fact isn’t fuckin’ surprising.” The shaggy haired male offered up a bit of a shrug, “But I’m gonna be the devil on your shoulder, and just say do it. Sleep in forever. Curl up, and become the world’s comfiest burrito. -- An actual dream.”

“Awfully productive? I mean, sure-- that’s one way of putting it. -- Hey, if you’re findin’ it hard to stay awake, hit me up in a few hours or whatever. I’ll be drunk as hell, and I’ll make sure you’re awake. Call you like seventeen times, and just babble on. Oh, or I’ll just run over to your place, and be all loud and obnoxious. -- That is, if I don’t pass out in a dumpster or some shit before then.”

[genius-lyrics]

[philip-vogel-archive]

veronica-spencer:

@philip-vogel

Crashing at Jason’s apartment, partially out of convenience because it was so close to the hospital and partially because Veronica didn’t want to be alone, had become the norm over the last week. At the moment, taking care of Emma was Ronnie’s main concern. However, it didn’t mean that Veronica had stopped worrying about everyone else. Closing the door to Jason’s apartment, Ronnie made it a few steps before stopping, her head turning to look over at Lip’s apartment door. Out of the giant group of mutual friends the two shared, Veronica and Lip weren’t exactly what Ronnie would consider close. There wasn’t any bad blood, at least, there hadn’t been, and whenever the two crossed paths it was usually a quick greeting before going off to do their own things. After Jason had told Ronnie that Lip had punched him and now this situation with Emma, it had taken most of Veronica’s self-control not to find Lip and kick the shit out of him herself. But now, it was days later and while Ronnie would probably credit her lack of sleep making her soft, the least she could do was knock on the door and make sure Lip wasn’t dead, especially since the general consensus was that no one had heard from him since the night of Emma’s overdose.

Sighing loudly, Veronica walked over and knocked on the door. No response. Again, Ronnie knocked. Again, no response. Reaching for the door handle, Ronnie’s eyes widened in surprise the knob twisted easily and the front door opened. “Jesus, does everyone in this building leave their doors unlocked?” she muttered to herself, stepping inside and beingly slightly surprised at how wrecked the place looked. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen so many liquor bottles, which was saying a lot coming from her. Her gaze fell on the couch, immediately recognizing the familiar mop of dark hair. “Where the hell have you been?” Veronica questioned, crossing her arms over her chest as her gaze shifted around the apartment. “And why does it look and smell like a bar in here?”

Days. It had been days that Philip was practically rotting away in his own apartment, barely getting up from the couch to do much of anything. 

All of the meals that he was consuming were either from fast food chains, or other take-out places. However, none of which he actually went out and got himself.  -- And that went for all of his alcohol too. Thank God for 2018-- the year of applications such as Postmates and Uber Eats.

The environment in which he stuck himself in was not a healthy one. It was a mess, for starters-- bottles all over the place, boxes and brown bags scattered all over the place, and let’s not even dive into the pile of laundry he had slumped into a corner. On top of all of that, though-- it was the exact place to which the whole thing went down. Every time Philip stepped into that bathroom, he soon found himself slumping to the ground-- just falling apart instantly. 

He couldn’t stop the images from rushing into his head.  And Philip let that consume him; forcing him to care even less than he did before.

His semi-sleeping (or unconscious) state was interrupted by the familiar voice of Veronica Spencer. Philip shot up from the couch, almost grasping from whatever nightmarish vision he had been having in the depths of his thoughts. “Fuck--” He muttered out, one hand reaching towards his forehead-- brain throbbing from not keeping up with his excessive drinking and numbing routine. 

Her questions completely pushed aside with a quickly tossed out, “-- How did you get in here?” Voice dripping with that of a hangover, or even some half-staying drunkenness. Whichever you wanted to call it. Either way, he was a mess. His hair was all disheveled-- but not in the typical way he kept it. His facial hair had grown in a bit more, causing a more unkempt appearance. And overall-- he just looked like complete shit; as if he hadn’t properly slept, nor showered, in days.

Which, honestly, he hadn’t.

[valiantschool]

Drugs become addictive the day you decide to use it to fill the gaps in your heart instead of using it for short entertainment.

(via bl-ossomed)

[philip-vogel-archive]

emma-martinelli:

There was no rational part of Emma’s brain anymore; no little voice to tell her she was overreacting, unlike other situations where she’d let her rare temper get the best of her. Anger coursed through her with the toxic concoction of drugs, mixing together in an awful way that further dirtied the blood in her system. All she wanted was to feel numb and for it all to stop – and it used to just be momentarily, yet now she was aching for something more permanent. The bickering with Philip didn’t last, his response turning her mute as she merely growled in irritation, eyes rolling as he asserted his dominance. Crossing her arms over her chest, she spat in bitterness. “Fuck you.” It was barely audible, a bratty clap back considering the immediate ‘defeat.’ Although they were known to argue, Emma didn’t bite this time, despite her instigation in the first place. The scolding had her clenching her jaw, disassociated and erratic, and knowing best – in that small moment – to listen to Philip. Because once there was no more to be said and he had victory, he left the room (with what was left) to gather his things with instructions for her to do the same.  

But she didn’t. Instead, she did the one thing she promised she never would: betray his trust. Her need for more had her out of her mind, any action incomprehensible to those who had never walked in her shoes; so she was on her knees by one of the floorboards, finding the spot to pop it up and reveal more inside. Confusion marred her expression for just a second at the different product inside; it wasn’t the usual on his selling list, so clearly Philip had to bring it in on request. Which made it even worse that Emma grabbed the needle and bag, stuffing it into the pocket of her shirt. In a fluid movement she returned the floorboard into place and stood up, calling out: “I’m going to wash my face.” 

Escaping to his bathroom and grabbing the clothes he was expecting her to change back into, Emma locked the door, taking a moment to empty her pockets again and glance in the mirror. Her visage was frail now, no longer holding the glow of happiness that she still retained even in her highly stressful life. Bones protruded in places that once held curves or muscle; dark bags weighed down underneath her eyes; and her skin was pale, a silver-white with prominent veins. The reflection that stared at her was gaunt and horrifying, sending a wave of emotion through Emma that brought stinging tears to her eyes. I’m so sick of crying. With a huff, she regained her composure somewhat.

There was a haste to her movements now and she realised she didn’t have time to utilise what she’d taken. Bringing up the bag of white powder to her eyesight, Emma merely observed it, although her brain didn’t function quite normally as she attempted to analyse. Everything about her was off, it didn’t make sense – the puzzle pieces of who she was weren’t together anymore, they were scarred across the board. And she wanted it to stop. She didn’t want to deal with walking out there to face Philip, she didn’t want to have to deal with Veronica’s scolding and worry, or fight with Sierra again. It had to go away. She needed it to.

The sounds of Philip’s footsteps in another part of the house had her opening the bag, pouring contents onto the bathroom counter, and leaning down in quick succession to inhale it through her nose. Her face constricted immediately, trying to cope with the sudden ingestion. One of hands raised to clutch her forehead as she slowly sunk to the ground, the heroin mixing with the various other drugs she’d taken in less than an hour. Her systems couldn’t cope with it, and the reality of her actions dawned on her suddenly as she whispered to herself. “I don’t… feel so good…”

“Emma, hurry the fuck up in there--”

Wash her face-- she was just going to wash her face, and she would be right out.  That’s what Philip got from that. Not that she would be taking her sweet time in that damn bathroom. But then again, to assume something rather stereotypical, she was a female. And Philip knew that their five minutes really translated into something different.

So he just laid back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling for God know’s how long.  That is, until Philip was finally huffing and puffing-- he had enough with waiting.

Pulling himself up from the bed, he slowly made his way across the hall, and stood in front of the bathroom door. “Emma--” He muttered out, voice more low than usual, knocking gently to grab her attention just in case she was too spaced out.

Was she just hiding out in there now because they were practically yelling at each other? Maybe.

“Emma, come on, let’s go. I’m--” With his body resting up against the wall, his one hand rushed through and tussled up his shaggy locks. Perhaps the way that he had acted previously was a bit harsh. But honestly-- it was all out of love. 

Philip just didn’t want anything bad to happen to her. He had seen that outcome before, and it wasn’t pretty. 

A sigh, “I don’t wanna fight or nothin’, okay? So, please, just come out already. I’ll take you home, and we can just chill, yeah? Let’s just have a chill night, Em.” And then there was a bit of a pause, a small smile beginning to twitch itself up across his lips, “Just you, me, and the stars-- How ‘bout that?”

No response. So another sigh rushed itself through his throat, “Em?” This time, Philip began to knock on the door some more. 

Again. No response. And there was this feeling that was slowly bubbling up inside of him. This anxious feeling that made his heart stop, yet beat really, really fast-- if that even made sense. A feeling that caused a cold sweat to form across his body, eyes widening at the endless possibilities of what was going on. 

“Emma?!--” This time the tone behind his words was way more rushed than before-- frantic even.  Philip’s mind began to rush, and all the conclusions were leading to nothing good. Nothing good at all. 

“Emma, open the door--” More frantic words. More frantic knocking on the door. “Emma!--”

Until that was it. There was no more time for knocking. Knocking wasn’t doing any good, and she wasn’t answering. All of his worst fears were starting to play out in his head-- flashbacks to that one party when he was younger. Fearing that was going to be the image he saw after--

Philip began to slam his shoulder up against the door, putting all of his weight in to constantly repeating the act. When that wasn’t doing anything, he’d back up a bit and go at it full force-- doing his best to knock that fucker down.

Once it slammed open, his eyes fell upon that exact image. She was on the ground, seeming to be passed out-- or worse. He didn’t know. But one of the most blood-curdling screams was released from the very depths of his gut, “EMMA--” Philip fell to the floor, reaching out as she tried to pull her up close to his chest. His hand gently tapped the side of her face, trying to wake her up-- 

Hopefully she was just out. Hopefully nothing else was happening. 

However, trying to wake her wasn’t doing any good. It wasn’t doing anything at all. Philip didn’t know what to do in a situation like this. His mind was racing more and more, his heart pounding in his chest-- feeling as though it was about to burst out. And his body temperature was rising, profusely sweating from the sheer traumatic instance he was now subjected to.

This wasn’t like last time. He couldn’t run away. It wasn’t someone he didn’t know. 

Clumsy getting his cell out of his pocket, Philip’s hands were fumbling as he tried to dial the only person coming to mind-- Rafe. Holding the phone up to his ear, his free hand slightly caressing the side of Emma’s face, hoping that it was going to do something; Philip began to talk well before the call was even connected and answered. 

“Rafe, come on-- Come on, come on-- Oh, God, please no-- Don’t do this to me. -- Emma, wake up. -- FUCK-- Rafe, answer, answer. Jesus Christ-- answer. -- Oh, God-- Rafe, help! Help-- Please-- I don’t know what to do. Emma-- I just-- She’s on the ground, and I don’t--- I didn’t-- I told her not to, man-- I FUCKING TOLD HER NOT TO. GOD-- FUCK-- HELP ME!--”

(( @rafedelgado​ ))