Feb 14, 2025
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Fire in His Fingertips, Vol 4 - Kawano Tanishi
When your group has various levels of drunken-ness
@e1igius 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫.
𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘, 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊. relapsing was a part of recovery. the excuse she used over and over and over again, constantly allowing herself to dive into a state of mind that offered respite. a vicious cycle. sober for a few weeks, a few months, before a text would come in; an invite to dinner, an offer to come home. such things were the last thing sawyer wanted. no contact had been tossed around countless times by concerned friends and past lovers. it was for her own good! they'd preach, trying to get through to her but never would it land upon an open ear. instead, sawyer remained in her cycle, comfortable with the fact that it was predictable — at least she could count on that.
the event that catapolted her back into that comfort was hosted by a friend she barely knew, in a bar that she was very familiar with. yet, when the invitation was posed, sawyer was incapable of turning it down. a phonecall from one of her sisters earlier that day had sent her into a frenzy, taking a shot in the middle of the day before holding off when she knew that she'd have all night to find that perfect buzz — that space between sober and completely annihilated that left her face as numb as her desire to numb negative emotions. a shot of tequila taken in a group, she knocked it back with terrifying ease, barely making a face afterward before noticing something. well . . . some one.
with no hesitation ( because why would there be? ), sawyer made her way towards the table where her unofficial new friend sat, ❛ you look like someone whose got some real good stories. ❜ though her stature was small, her presence was large, warm and welcoming; perhaps even a little innocent and naiive. sliding into a seat at his side, she held out a hand for him to shake, her lips pulled in a wide, toothy smile, ❛ i'm sawyer. what's you're name, stranger? ❜ the thought of rejection didn't even cross her mind, acting on instinct and impulse, as she did with most of her existence. it worked for her this far, didn't it?
The Batboys as things my drunk friends have said
Jason: Punch me in the face. I deserve it.
Tim: I got syrup up my nostrils.
Dick: My dad was up but he didn't realize I was drunk. I'm fucking a master thanks to my Brian being self sufficient.
Damian: Don't throw up on the kitty.
Jason: Your floor is gross. It's like me!
Tim: Yeet the flannel!
Dick: You got me fries? I love you guys you're the best!
Damian: *Every single time a cat comes in the room* CAT!
Jason: I don't want to crush anything. *crash*
Tim: I want to see if I could get this cheese to stick to your fridge.
Dick: My brain is fine but my body is not listening.
Damian: To be fair, the cats and the rats haven't had a drink.
Drunk Eleanor and Jason
Jason: Hey, Bro?
Eleanor: Yeah, Bro?
Jason: I think it's time to tell the world we're bros.
Eleanor: *whispers in his ear* we're bros.
Jason: Why did you whispered to me, Bro?
Eleanor: Because you're my world, Bro.
Jason: Brooh...
Eleanor: Brooh...
When you are out having a good time with but then your friend wants to have a heart to heart:
Well folks I managed to make it through the company Christmas party this year without having my drunk friend kiss me in some manner and while part of me is glad I've been spared her awkward glances for the next week another part me feels like at this point it's tradition...a now broken tradition.
pals