#deathfied

[abouttiimeadjacent]

it would not take much to get marty to play the guitar in class lbr

[repeadied-m]

《 @deathfied 〈 tree 〉 a meme 》

said: shut up and dance with me, okay?

          The two of them had stepped outside to get some air, but the goings on from inside the frat house could still be heard from the backyard. There was still plenty of party happening out back, but the atmosphere was slightly more subdued, and bodies were noticeably more spread out.

          “You know what this song always makes me think of?” He tipped his bottle in the direction the music was coming from, then took a sip. He looked at her in anticipation, as if the answer were obvious --- because it was. “Wait -- do you not?” He bobbed his head to the rhythm of (I've Had) The Time Of My Life, waiting for her to catch on. “Tree, c’mon.” He threw his head back and groaned. “Patrick Swayze? Jennifer Grey?” Of course, he laughed, another classic left unseen by Tree Gelbman.

          He stepped close to her, head ducked and eyes narrow as he glared with a teasing patronage. “I’m so curious as to what you got up to while the rest of us were consuming these cinematic masterpieces.” But his expression quickly softened under her command. His pretentiousness would never phase her -- not that he really thought it mattered what movies she had or hadn’t seen. He actually found it impressive how unaffected she was by the tides of popular culture. Plus, it made it more fun to show her his favorites for the first time.

          He held his hands up in surrender before he wrapped them around her waist, bottle still held loosely in his grip. “Fine.” His feet started to move along to the music. “But we’re adding Dirty Dancing to the list.”

[repeadied-m]

《 @deathfied 〈 tree 〉 a meme 》

said: i don’t feel so good.

          His memories from that night were more clear than you’d think. Not crystal, but not like he was looking at them through the bottom of a beer bottle either. It wasn’t the party itself that he could recall with this approximate certainty. It was Tree. It was every moment he spent with her. Maybe he couldn’t hash out the details with any level of convincing precision, but he could tell you about all the important big picture stuff. Could probably talk about it for hours actually. Long enough for you to roll your eyes and regret asking him about it in the first place.

          He remembered when he asked for her name and how unique he thought it was when she told him. He remembered telling her his and hoping it was something she’d want to remember. He remembered making her laugh without doing anything particularly funny. He remembered the way she danced like she wasn’t sharing the floor with dozens of other swaying bodies. He remembered how she made fun of him every time he missed a shot a beer pong, but never insisted on being anyone else’s partner.

          And he remembered how positively green she looked when she spoke those words to him. “Woah -- okay.” He put down his drink so he could steady her shoulders and held her at arm's length. Looking at her made him feel sick. “Bathroom?” But before he could get a response from her, he held back a gag and answered his own question. “Bathroom.” He grabbed one of her hands and pulled her away from the crowd, down the hall, and pushed past a couple who seemed to not realize they were still wearing clothes. Once inside the tiled oasis, he closed the door behind them and held her hair back before she could make a mess of it.

          He looked up at the ceiling, because that’s all he could do to keep himself from hurling. “I think maybe we should, uh --” oh -- ew -- gross -- “. . . call it a night?” 

[groovies-a2]

@deathfied​   said    :    ❝       𝙰𝙲𝚃𝚄𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚈, 𝙸’𝙼 𝙸𝙽 𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙳 𝙾𝙵 𝙰 𝚆𝙴𝙸𝚁𝙳 𝙼𝙾𝙾𝙳.     ❞

he   stands  behind   the   counter  ,  slumped  —     bored out  of  his  mind,      even.    ❝    damn,   that   sucks.    ❞       he  exhales,  looking  back  to  see   his  boss  glaring  at  him  from  behind.    his   arms  are  crossed  (...  is  that  a  vein  popping  out  of  his  forehead  ?),   he  looks  annoyed.   

      ❝  sorry,  uh  —    you  gonna’  buy  something ,  or  ...  ?  ❞      

[methodcop]

@deathfied​ said: ‘ birth is a curse . existence is a prison . ’

                         karma was a bitch. or, more specifically, killer hangovers were a bitch. slipping his hands into his pockets, he looked down at her, an amused grin on his lips. he should probably take pity on her -- give her some coffee, or an aspirin or something. but where was the lesson in that? or the fun...    “  let me guess -- rough night?  ”

[icecook]

@deathfied​ ------- TREE GELBMAN.        “do i look like a person who likes to talk about their feelings?”

       “nah. nah, i guess not.” he sighs, scratches his jaw for just a moment too long--- there seems to be an itch he can’t quite get rid of, something beneath the skin that bothers him--- and then he drops his hand quickly, stuffing it into his pocket. “fine, alright, you don’t wanna talk? what do you wanna do? forget? ‘cause i mean, i ain’t got nothin’ real helpful on me, but i do...” jesse reaches further into his pocket, eyes lifting to the sky as he searches, and then he pulls out a small plastic bag with a joint in it. “... have this?”

       he pauses for a second, stares at the bag, then extends it to tree. “a peace offering, y’know, for tryin’ to get all up in your business or whatever.”

[methodcop]

@deathfied​ said: ‘ you need to ghost her . disappear . block her number . bonus : anything she left in your apartment is now legally yours . ’

                    “  oh -- is that right?  ”    he said dryly. he was gonna kill oliver. this shift had been long enough without having his dating life on offer for everybody who wandered through the station to pick apart. and maybe more than anything, he didn’t like that his dilemma was that obvious... he cleared his throat and fixed her with an unimpressed gaze.    “  yeah, well -- sorry if i don’t take expert advice from every messed up college kid i meet.  ”    he shrugged, ghost of a smirk on his lips.    “  guess i’m just traditional that way...  ”

[jennifercheck-a]

@deathfied​:      ‘  damn,    i  got  blood  on  my  shirt.  ’