#drunk oc asks

[whumpiary]

Josiah do you love Cass?

Also, what is Christopher like drunk?

Josiah turns bright red, lips pressing together in a line that clearly is trying to fight a smile.

“Um.” He shakes his head, avoiding gaze, blushing a deeper red, brows furrowing to combat the smile that persists in trying to light his face up. The smile fades away as he finishes the rest of his beer, staring into space, his hand absently coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

-

content warning: implied noncon/dubcon, etc

From across the room with sparkling eyes and an open hand, “Darling? Darling come here, you’re so far away. Come and meet my friend, he wants to see you. I want to show you off.”

From so close you can smell the gin cocktail, nipping at jaw and neck and ear, hands running and roaming. “Oh, I’m going to hurt you tonight. I’m going to make you scream and scream and beg me for more. I never get the chance to pin you down anymore. I’m going to pin you down.”

Amongst a few close friends, absently waving for a top up, “It’s sweet you still think he cares about you, darling. Deluded, but sweet. It’s okay, though, you know I love you. You can stop embarrassing yourself.”

Pouting by the fireplace with a scotch in his hand, “I’m bored. Let’s play a game, love. I want to play a game. Oh, I know… you have a ten second head start. Run.”

Curled and cuddled close on the couch, warm and quiet. “No we’re going to stay right here. Shh, shh. Right here. Give me your hand. Uncurl you’re fingers. That’s right. This will only take a moment, shh, it’s okay. No, don’t pull back, stay here, it’ll only take a moment-“ and a sleepy, drunken smile at the sound of a scream at a dislocated finger. A kiss on the cheek.

TLDR; happy, hungry, violent, mean, and handsy

[orchidscript]

For the drunk OCs ask: Henry, what wakes you up at night?

cw: warning for alcohol/alcoholism, referenced past noncon

"What keeps you up at night?" Henry slurs, a mystery red cup in his hand. He dissolves into giggles on the front porch of a house. Taped up porch lights blink inside the windows, the panes shuddering slightly from the music volume.

He waves a hand in front of his face like he's batting away gnats. "I'm jus' kidding, totally kidding. But! You can't wake up if you never go to sleep, right? Or if you don't remember falling asleep..." He takes a long drink from his cup, swaying slightly as he lowers it. "It's hard to go to sleep when all you can think about is, is um, is how many people have been inside you... Whether you wanted it or not... Their hands t-too."

He swallows hard, looking down and realizing the cup in his hand is empty. He blinks quickly, then looks at you. His eyes are dull, oddly focused. "Help me up would ya? I need more."

drunk oc asks

[deathvalleyqueen]

🍸 Sean! I see it's honest hours tonight, so—fuck, marry, kill. The Seed brothers. Gotta brave it, buddy.

“You really gotta play me dirty like this... John is like practically my brother, fuck... come on. I thought we were friends..” Sighs and looks at MJ who is laughing into her wine glass. “She thinks this is real funny...” 

“Stop deflecting and answer the question, Sean..” 

“Fine... Kill Joseph ... that’s easy because Hipster Jesus Charles Manson can walk off a short fucking bridge alright.” MJ is cackling. “I said it...” 

“You did... you did... Hipster Jesus Charles Manson....” She mutters into her glass... 

“Um... Fuck.... Jacob? But he honestly would break me.” MJ is now falling out of her chair. “So yeah... Marry John. I know how much money he has so like.... I would put up with his shit and the fucking clingyness..” MJ is in actual tears on the floor. “I mean... he isn’t... Unattractive... and we are best friends...” 

“I CAN NOT EVEN....I AM TELLING ELLIE YOU WANT TO FUCK HER BOYFRIEND AND JOHN YOU WANT TO MARRY HIM!” 

“Please don’t... tell Joseph I want to kill him but Ellie will never...ever let me live that Jacob shit down...”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Chris, are you okay after everything that happened with Owen? How have you been doing lately?

Chris, buried in an oversized hoodie despite the warm day and his open window, shrugs. He sits on his bed in the corner, facing the closed door, a bottle in his hands. His eyes are red-rimmed, a little bloodshot. There are dark shadows under them.

"Oh, okay," He says, taking a drink. His fingernails scrape over the texture on the bottle, feeling the rough and smooth sink under his skin. "I, I, I wasn't hurt. I'm fine. Noth, nothing even happened to-to, to, to me."

[ashintheairlikesnow]

For intoxicated asks: Connor, why don’t you just keep B as a pet for the rest of your days? Why try to fix what you broke when you can just have what you want all the time?

"I know, right?" Connor laughs, some of the tension he always carries now having bled from his shoulders, leaving him loose and relaxed on the couch. Above him, somewhere on the second floor, B and Scott sleep. He thinks. Maybe they're just having very quiet sex. How the fuck should he know?

"Perfect man. Literally perfect. He's hot as hell, fucks like a dream, and he thinks I saved him from a fate worse than death - even though I helped him end up with that... Ripley or whatever that asshole's name was in the first place. Should just keep him, huh?"

He snorts, bitterly.

Takes a long, long drink, dropping the emptied beer bottle to join the others and clink on the floor. He opens another.

"But doing that? Would be... wrong. And I don't know what happened t'me, but I... give a fuck about that now. It's awful. And it means I'll have to watch him go."

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Auri, what is the best part of having turned Erich into a vampire?

Auri grins. They have blood in their hair, dotting the nearly-white pale blond with specks or bright and nearly-black, heavier red. The blood is smeared around their mouth, too, like badly applied lipstick.

A dead man lays on the floor nearby. The woman they currently sit on, resting their weight on her hips, is still alive, but barely, her throat torn nearly open, eyes wide as she struggles to breathe, claws useless at Auri's thighs, catching on the thick denim of their blue jeans.

"I get lonely," They answer, glancing over their shoulder. Erich stands nearby, hands in his pockets, scowling towards the moon through the window. "And he's pretty to look at."

"Fuck off," Erich snaps.

Auri laughs, throwing their head back. Moonlight glints off their hair. "You could have said no," They point out, "and died."

Erich looks over at them. "Would you have let me?"

Auri has to think about that. "Probably not."

[ashintheairlikesnow]

For the intoxicated questions:

Erich, how are you feeling?

Are vampires able to get drunk in your universe? Or more like blood drunk?

Erich sits on the ground, leaning back against the brick wall of a building in some dark downtown. His eyes glimmer, reflecting light and seeming to glow in the dark. When he smiles, his teeth are smeared pink, fangs still red from blood.

"If they're drunk," He says, voice dipping into a deeper, rural German accent that he has mostly smoothed with time. "We get drunk."

He gestures to the body of a woman on the floor, her legs and arms thrown out and bent like a broken doll's. The body's eyes are still wide, with a bit of her blonde hair settled against her cheekbone.

Erich exhales, raking a hand back through his hair. "She did not have to die, though," He murmurs.

From a windowsill, where they crouch like some malevolent cat, Auri chuckles, sucking the last bits of blood off their fingertips. "Yes, she did. She didn't tip the waiter."

Erich doesn't look at them, but his jaw tightens. "Not leaving a tip doesn't make someone evil."

"Hm." Auri rolls their shoulders backwards, arching their back. "I suppose that depends on if you think about it from the perspective of the waiter, liebling."

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Drunk OC game.

Jake😈 how’s it going?

Jake definitely isn't supposed to drink while taking painkillers, but oh look, there he goes.

He slumps back against the back of the couch, the house quiet. Even Chris is finally asleep, although Jake suspects he cried himself down tonight. Even though he's started closing off, not talking about it.

Jake shakes his head. Drunk, the southern in his accent starts to slide back, softening the consonants and drawing out of his vowels.

"I fucked up. I said somethin' I shouldn't've said, y'know? He was already hurtin', and I hurt 'im worse. Gonna be honest with you. Been thinkin' about... you know, shuttin' it down. Nat says hiccups're normal, everyone has some bad bits, but... shit. Maybe I wasn't meant to be able t'do this. Can't even not shit on my own little brother when he needs me to hold 'im."

He takes another drink.

"Maybe m'dad was right."