#dpointstarter

[lanaxviper]

Lana had gone and done it again, partied too hard, drank too much, and not taken care of herself. This time, though, she had woken up with only a headache. Thankfully, no vomit was involved in any capacity. That was a win as far as Lana was concerned, which was sad. But today, she was sitting in the coffee shop, nursing a cup of coffee, sunglasses on, inside. The shop was louder than she would have liked - cups slamming, spoons hitting the counters, pencils tapping - and she groaned. “I swear to fucking God...could this place be any louder?” 

She pushed the chair back in an attempt to stand, but her chair collided with a body and she dropped another f-bomb. Coffee, everywhere. “Fuck -fuck...fuck...”

[killianhayes-blog]

The Fun Arrives

Killian couldn’t believe that the whole town was throwing a week-long party for his arrival. It was true, he was a bit late for the party, but still, he walked up to the entrance with a wide smile. His strut, mixed with the emerald, strapless dress he was wearing, barefoot no less, brought about many an inquisitive gander.

Noticing his audience, his smile broke into a grin, and, in a show of athleticism, he strode the last ten feet to the entrance on his hands. He dropped to his shoulders and rolled back to standing, then bowed to the bunch of people that were now gawking at him.

Before the gate-guy could muster the words to ask for Killian’s money, Killian pulled a wad of cash out from his chest area. It would have been safe, upon watching, to assume that the small lumps that filled out the bust of his dress, were simply stashes of cash. 

“You can keep the change.” His grin threatened to take over his entire face as he practically skipped past his audience on the way into the festival.

[coltthatcher-blog]

Springfest

Colt prefered smoking out of a pipe. He liked the taste of his own, which was thoroughly coated with resin from overuse. It probably didn’t help that he never cleaned it, except to clear out any clogs. Today, he was smoking a rather strong hybrid he’d gotten from the dispensary.

After he was completely blitzed, he became a bit of a cliche and scarfed down a bag of doritos, washed down with mountain dew. It didn’t take him long to grow restless in his motel room. 

Something caught his attention as he passed the window, so he walked over and threw it up. It looked like a festival. His face broke out in a grin. Just the distraction he needed.

The festival was surprisingly entertaining. They had games, snacks, attractions. Colt spent a half our leaning against a pole and watching a teenager perform some really good magic tricks. 

He put a decent tip in the kid’s hat when he thought nobody was looking and headed towards the music. Someone ran past him and he threw himself out of the way, running into someone else.

“Hey, watch where you’re going.” He turned to see who he’d run into. “You alright?”

[georgedixon3-blog]

Ringside

George wasn’t sure that he was looking to invest quite so much money into his fitness, but seeing as the fee covered training, he couldn’t really complain. Exercise was an on-and-off pursuit for him, especially when he was back in Oregon, but he just never could find the motivation necessary to constantly tire himself out doing things he didn’t enjoy.

Ringside Fitness was boxing heavy however, and that was new territory. George had never been in actual fights before, if only because he didn’t know how to fight back, making the ordeals very one sided. He wasn’t the weakest person in every crowd, but he really wasn’t what he’d consider strong, either, and that was what drove him to step inside.

The cooler air of the building sunk into his lungs as he looked around, taking in the environment. It was more modern-looking than he expected, and the crowd generally consisted of people that seemed much buffer than his bone structure would ever allow. Out of intimidation, he immediately decided that he’d maybe just go on runs on the weekends or eat a salad once in a while, reaching back towards the door. In doing so, he almost ran into the guy who was just walking into the gym, carrying a gym bag and appearing like he frequented the gym just from his physique. “Oh, sorry about that. I’ll just be...” He said as confidently as he possibly could given the situation, fixing his hair as he attempted to escape as soon as the man cleared the doorway.

[adrian-mendoza]

“Fuck yeah, I’ll have another... is this or is this not a bar?” Even though her head was already vaguely swimming and ‘home’ wasn’t exactly within reasonable walking distance, there was a perfectly good backseat in Sarah’s car, so she wasn’t inclined to be careful.

“I’m almost loose enough to swap sob stories... you gonna help me out with that?”

[georgedixon3-blog]

George’s official title was a barista, but he felt like that was just a fancy way to say bartender. Unlike what the first title implies, the last time he cared about foam art was when he accidentally left the tap running a bit too long and had to clean up the beer before it could make the floor too sticky. He also couldn’t remember the last time he served a non-alcoholic drink other than water (at his own request rather than the customer’s), but as long as he was getting paid, he couldn’t really complain.

Regardless of the fact that The Viper Room was out of the way from Springfest, that didn’t mean it wasn’t getting the crowd. Apparently, getting drunk was the best way to end a day of sober festivities, meaning the bar was more crowded than he’d ever witnessed it. The business was keeping him on his toes, covered in miscellaneous alcohols, and sorting stacks of cash from paid off tabs, but the tips were worth it. They were also worth every as-genuine-as-possible smile he offered to whoever called him over, and this time was no exception.

George placed the money back in the register and turned in the direction of the person calling him over, an unfamiliar face to him at the very least. Walking over in front of the new customer, he managed the same smile that was starting to make his cheeks hurt slightly as he placed his hands flat against the edge of the bar and tilted his head to the side. “Hey there, what can I get you?”

[georgedixon3-blog]

I should go for a run. It’ll be good for me. It’ll help me prep for learning to box. George never resented his previous life decisions as much as he did in this moment.

He had made it a decent distance, hitting the more rural parts of the town before making it back to the center. He was also so close to making it back to his apartment, in relativity to how far he had gone, and while that fact should have pushed him to make it the rest of the way, it rather propelled him to stop running and lean against the brick wall of the building that ran vertical to the sidewalk. Leaning then become sliding, and before there was any hope for help, George was sitting on the ground with his gaze on the legs that betrayed him. It was like that he stayed, deciding it was the lesser of two evils, and where he stayed until someone almost tripped on his outstretched limbs.

“Oh, shit, sorry about that!” George apologized quickly, using the last bit of strength his leg muscles had to pull them into his chest and out of the way. He looked up at the person he almost made faceplanting, offering as apologetic a look as he could. “My bad, you alright?”

[georgedixon3-blog]

George took a deep breath as he watched the last customer leave the bar, quickly following to lock the door. On the days when The Viper Room attracted the post-festival crowd, the closing shift felt like it took twice the amount of time spent keeping track of customers’ number of drinks, counting small cash left over from other purchases used to pay for expensive tabs, and pulling a smile that actually hurt in the same way he imagined that of the actors who played royalty in Disney theme parks did. They were probably getting the same pay, though.

Wetting a rag, he began his sweep of all the countertops to the low hum of the music he had already turned down since the height of their business. He sang the lyrics under his breath that he had learned unwillingly during his shifts, only jumping slightly when a noise from behind him caught him off guard. Twisting around, he offered the familiar face as much of a smile as he could muster after his face felt like a tombstone of false happiness. “Oh, hello Hal. If you’re collecting cash, we actually ran out of space in the register for fives and tens, so I rolled them and they’re in the money box beneath the bar.”