#pax.

[taniagori]

Mistica do mês de Janeiro

Mistica do mês de Janeiro

O primeiro mês do ano foi nomeado em homenagem a antiga deusa Jana e seu marido Janus.  Casal que cedia sua benção a qualquer empreendimento autorizado por Júpiter. Janeiro contém, em si, todos os potenciais do ano, mas guarda os elementos, as lições e os resíduos do ano que o precedeu. Por isso é um mês para se livrar do velho , preparando planos e projetos para novas conquistas, mudanças e…

View On WordPress

[denverxxg]

DM to Coffee boy.`

d: hey i never got your number bec i figured that be - weird..

d: so i found you on social media..which is actually a lot more weird now that i think bout it ..

d: either way i just wanted to apologize for being weird at the festival..

[nofugitive-blog]

@paxrinne

“i’m surprised you agreed to come. shouldn’t you be off doing better things? healing better people?” 

[imogenorion]

“You know, when I was in high school I thought I’d be in bars a lot more than I am at this age” she said as she lifted the glass to her lips, taking another sip of her third drink. It wasn’t like she didn’t go out, because she did, but when she was co-parenting a six year old, it was sort of difficult to get out. Not that she didn’t adore Sarah, didn’t love spending her time with her, but at twenty six, sometimes she needed  the freedom of a bar, surrounded by other adults. Today, Vinny had their daughter, and so she had a drink, or two, or three. “Not that I don’t love my daughter of course, but sometimes a bitch needs a break from playing barbie to down a couple of shots, you know?” and maybe she sounded selfish, and maybe, that made her feel guilty, because she wasn’t sure mothers were allowed to be selfish like that. “Honestly, despite my avoiding him like the plague, my ex really pulled through for me tonight. Who said the NYPD wasn’t reliable, hm?” @qweenpax

[tylerngraham]

Gigs were getting more frequent for the band these days, and tonight was another one he was pretty excited about. The bar was a little more upscale, which meant not only a little more notoriety, but even if it wasn’t the only incentive, the money would be better than their last gig, too. The crowd was more the crowd he was used to, a lot of young people, college students, a couple of old dedicated fans that came to every show before they stopped playing. The night went well, they did a quick encore song, and the owner of the place offered them free drinks for him and his friends. He would take him up on that, a free beer or two would be nice to wind down with.  After cleaning up backstage, he made his way out to the bar where he spotted a very familiar face.  This time it belonged to the one he actually liked...kind of. He decided that it couldn’t do too much harm to stop over, and so he made his way towards the end of the bar where he sat, signaling the bartender for a beer, he leaned his back against the bar “you know, if you say you’re with me, you can get free drinks for the night” @qweenpax

[leodxarte]

Location: Foxhole Court Lounge Date: Saturday, September 1st Time: Afternoon (@paxridley)

He’d made it as far as the lounge after their Saturday sprints, collapsing on one of the couches for a reprieve from his uncertain legs. Despite the soreness that he knows will come, it’s something of a relief to be in this state—like he’s been reduced down to nothing more than a set of aching muscles, like he couldn’t think more about last night’s game if he tried. 

And something of a relief to feel like he’s been taken to task. Just about the whole team played like shit yesterday—the scoreboard showed it—and he didn’t play any better, didn’t do anything at all to help. Sometimes he feels like he needs a replacement for his father’s critical voice in his ear after everyone game, someone to say the things that he’d say so Leo knows he’s not just making them up. Sometimes he feels like a single harsh word might make his crack right down the middle. He knows he doesn’t make it easy on Wymack or Grant, trying to Coach him, trying to figure out what he needs. Most of the time, he doesn’t know either—until he doesn’t get it.

It’s not like he feels good—who could, after a game like that, after a grueling practice like that?— but it feels better than being left to his own devices to think and overthink his play. Not that he isn’t going to complain about it, though, making puppy eyes up at Pax from his position on the couch. “If you could just—hand me my Gatorade,” he says, his arm demonstratively outstretched to show that, no, he can’t reach far enough to do it on his own. “And then leave me here to die, thanks.”   

[nofugitive-blog]

@paxrinne

Kitra carefully lowered herself down onto the operation table. She couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact, but it was clear to both of them that she needed medical attention even if she refused to let Juan help her walk the moment they’d gotten out of the bar. But it was certain that at least two of her ribs were broken. 

She flickered a glance  up at Pax, “If you are going to stick me with a needle, let me know in advance so I can close my eyes.” her teeth were gritted, and a faint trickle of blood was pouring down from her lip, but she maintained her air of strength.