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@vic-hernandez
I missed this group so much after I left and it closed the first time around, and was so happy for a chance to join it a second time with old and new faces! So sad to see it go again, but I was so grateful to have met/interact with you all! I think I’ll be joining Catalina and Crescent Harbor, if anybody’s interested, and if not, if anyone would like to 1x1, feel free to follow me here, or send me a message on Discord! Wishing you all the absolute best.
tell me something I don’t already know
laurieontheisle:
date: 31/01 time: 04:45pm location: vic’s place status: closed for @vic-hernandez
They’d never gotten to taste the Beaver Tails. A few laughs, drinks and canapés into their secret dinner, and Gavin, Laurie’s manager for the night, had burst out of the hall in a fit of nerves. She’d tried to hide behind Victor, but the frenzied movement had caught Gavin’s eye and he’d exploded on her. All the pent-up stress he’d been about to snort out of his system (Laurie hadn’t missed the little vial of cocaine Gavin had produced from the inside pocket of his white tuxedo) he had simply used on her; while Vic had tried to interfere, Laurie simply dismissed the entire thing as quickly as possible, managing to diffuse the situation by quickly returning to her post behind the bar. Then, Vic had left, and the entire event had been plunged into darkness.
Between the continued harassment from over-privileged attendees and the suddenness of the blackout, Laurie had forgotten all about it until she’d heard, amidst the panicked hissing wondering how the hell they were going to get out of this fucking blizzard, somebody talking about a certain tall, curly-haired bartender standing up to the one and only Queen B(itch). Something about him defending the blonde after Ophelia had slapped her. Laurie still can’t quite figure out what the violent tug that thought has yanking at her stomach means.
And so, here she is now, bag of Beaver Tails in one hand while the other rings the bell by Victor’s front door.
Being aware that she’s never visited him before– not to mention the possibility of meeting his family –Laurie’s dusted herself off a little more than usual: Her hair’s pulled into a loose and easy side braid, and she’s gone so far as to even add a little sandalwood and honey essential oil to her wrists and neck, right beneath her ear.
She’s nervous. Why is she fucking nervous?
-
Victor still felt as if he were recovering from the last weeks events.
What he’d thought, at best, would’ve been a night of free booze and snacks had turned into the need for an engine repair, a near bout of hypothermia, and being found naked and stranded on the side of the road by the police the next morning. It was hard to believe that he’d have taken that treatment over the kind he’d been subjected to at home--what, his mother’s frantic panic after he’d failed to return that night as he said he would. When he’d finally charged his dead phone, there must’ve been at least thirty unanswered texts and missed calls from her. Victor had felt awful.
Not to mention as confused as ever. Things with Romy were exactly how they’d left them eight months ago: up in the air. Sex is what had gotten them into this mess in the first place, so why either had thought having it again would suddenly clear things up was beyond him...or maybe that was just the problem. They hadn’t thought. It’d been pure instinct.
Whatever it was, it hadn’t produced a conversation, though that could’ve been partly due to Victor’s lack of desire to leave the house since being police escorted to it. Not that he led a wild life (at least, not these days), but the drama of the charity event had given him his dose of it to last at least the week, so he’d been mainly commuting straight to and from work.
It was a rare day where he had no lessons booked at Vinyl Resting Place, or a shift at Alibi, leaving Victor with not only the whole day, but the house to himself. He’d taken advantage of this freedom by doing absolutely nothing with it, having plopped on (and morphed to) the couch somewhere after lunch (did Cap’n Crunch count as lunch?).
The knock on the door came as a surprise, eyebrows furrowed as he lifted his head off the couch, as if he could see through the front door without having to get up to answer it. When this proved futile, he eventually pulled himself to his feet, thinking back to if his moms had said anything about a package getting delivered or service getting done--
But when he pulled open the door, the person on the other side proved to be neither of these things.
“Laurie, hey.” A grin was quick to tug at his lips, though his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, brain not processing the sight of her, mixed with the incredible scent of sweetness she carried with her--fried dough, and something else he couldn’t quite place. This grin quickly faltered, however, as he remembered his own disheveled appearance: unbrushed hair, pajama pants, Cap’n Crunch breath. Lamely, a hand reached to drag through his curls. “What, uh, what are you doing here?”
luceehq:
"Not sure if I would call myself a life savor, but I’ll take the compliment.“ Lucy said laughing a little and then nodded her head "You’re welcome.” It was freezing outside, and she watched as his fingers touched the lighter. The smell of smoke used to reek on Lucy’s clothes back when she was in college, and whenever she’d return home to Chicago her mother would yell at her for it. The habit had become a bad one and Lucy was glad she was able to quit. Getting lost within her thoughts, the blonde looked up at him “My ex boyfriend cheated on me..” She laughed, but she was being honest. Smoking was something she did in the past. “He was the one who got me into smoking, and he was the one who made me hate smoking.” Taking a breath, she let the cold air hit her “It sounds stupid, but every time I think I want a cigarette, I think of him.”
-
She had a point. Night saver was probably the more appropriate term, though Victor didn’t know if there really was any saving the night. The appeal of the free booze and food had quickly worn off after the eleven PM cut off time of the latter, and the behavior of some the night’s more elite guests had only left him unsettled with the thoughts of what person he must’ve been when he’d considered himself one of them. Whoever it was, he didn’t think he liked him very much. “No, that doesn’t sound stupid.” In fact, the story managed a small smile to his lips, though it had a cigarette dangling from the end of it. Victor didn’t have any cheating exes who’d gotten him into smoking. That part had been all him. “I guess I’ve got to just get myself a cheating ex boyfriend.”
athenv:
athena didn’t often use public toilets, let alone those at the beach. her even going to the beach and taking half an hour to do something other then work was a miracle. however, this was her secret thing. something that she did just because she enjoyed it and such moments were few and far between with a woman like her. if asked, she wouldn’t be able to explain what it was about reading on a beach that made her calm but the whole idea was for no one to ever find out so she never did need to do so.
however, not even that could get rid of her displeasure at the idea of needing to go into a public restroom. however, the displeasure at having spilt yoghurt on her hands for any length of time won out. so, with her book tucked under arm, heels shoved haphazardly into the black tote bag that hung heavily off her shoulder, she nudged open the bathroom door with her hips. her plan was to get in and out as quickly as possible and touch even yess.
unfortunately, her plan was interrupted by the realisation that someone was already in here. oh jesus christ. she cleared her throat loudly. “it looks like you didn’t lock the door. now, are you planning on using the toilet or not because i need to wash my hands.” as per usual, her calm and collected tone hid the fact that her mind was about to go kabloom. shirtless men weren’t exactly a common sight in her line of her work. such a thing simply wasn’t appropriate in most cases.
-
He was the biggest douchebag in the world. He had to be. Because what was worse than a shirtless beach bathroom selfie? Getting caught taking a shirtless beach bathroom selfie. Victor hated himself--more so than usual, these days. And he was sure that now this woman hated him, too. At least, he would have.
“Um, yeah--I mean, no. No, I’m not...” Planning to use the toilet. The words died on his tongue, which he wanted to swallow and choke on, at this point. “I’m just gonna--” Grabbing his t-shirt from the bathroom counter, he gestured vaguely to the door, slipping the fabric over his exposed torso as he made a bee line for the exit, nearly tripping over himself to do so.
Victor had barely made it out of the bathroom by the time that he realized his phone was very much still on the floor. The morbidly embarrassed part of his brain told him that he could just get a new one, and to never step foot in that bathroom--or, honestly, the beach--ever again. But the rational part of his brain knew that he couldn’t exactly afford a new one, nor did he care to explain to his moms how he’d managed to lose it in the first place. With a sigh, he resigned himself to the return, raising a fist to knock tentatively at the (presumably now locked) bathroom door.
hannahgrvce:
WHO: @vic-hernandez WHERE: Vinyl Resting Place
Sitting with the guitar in her lap, Hannah leaned back as she slowly picked at the strings, practicing the chords they’d gone over that day during their lesson. She hadn’t planned on signing up when she saw the flyer in the coffee shop, but she’d been fueled by too much caffeine and a drive to try something new, just for herself. And ever since meeting Vic, she hadn’t regretted it. “Okay so give it to me straight, teach.” She chuckled, hands stilling as she looked over to him. “How am I doing? Better than the five year olds before me, I hope.” She teased with a grin.
-
“First of all, they’re seven, thank you very much.” He’d attempted a play at seriousness, but a grin had formed on his lips hearing Hannah’s progress on the chords they’d attempted that afternoon, and there was no getting rid of it. There was a sense of pride he felt when his students (be them seven or thirty two) actually seemed to be learning from him. He’d never considered himself a teacher, more a perpetual student, but the longer he did this, the more he began to think that maybe he wasn’t doing all too bad. “And yeah, you’re doing better than them. My nine year olds, though...” Victor grimaced, slowly shaking his head. “They’re some stiff competition. Could be giving you a run for your money.” But once again, his grin returned, along with a chuckle as he reached across to adjust Hannah’s fingers.
remingtondutton:
.
“Seems like that would only be wishful thinking.” Remington found himself musing back. “At least with his level of booze, hopefully his disappointment may be forgotten in that next morning. However I’m sure his embarrassment will still be raging.” The man figured that story probably would have best been left in the dark crevices of the storyteller’s mind. But some people just didn’t know how to keep anything private. Which was such a shame but he could bask in the entertainment of it all.
-
“Or a fucking great story.” Victor flicked the tail end of the rag in his direction, eyebrow raised in a silent what if. Though he knew just as well as Remington that there was no way the man had actually gotten anywhere fishing in artificial ice, he saw little harm in thinking (wishing? Hoping?) that maybe he had. Wouldn’t that be something? “I’m not seeing what he has to be embarrassed about. Gotta be a great story if you remembered it long enough to tell someone else about it.” He pointed out. It was a story an interviewer would love--fans, too. He could see the Rolling Stones article now.
It was a desperate move. Truly, it was. But Victor was losing Instagram followers by the day, and he told himself that he didn’t care. That it didn’t matter--because really, he didn’t. It didn’t. Except, he did. It kind of did. His last post had been in August, before news of the band’s breakup had hit mainstream media. If he looked at the comments on that last photo, he knew the top ones would all be the same questions: what happened? Why did you break up? Is this for real? But he also knew that if he looked at the comments on that last photo, those questions would have stopped rolling in months ago, too.
So, desperate times called for desperate measures. His hair looked good...and so did his bare chest in the bathroom mirror, phone poised and ready in his hand. As if the situation were more nerve-racking than a shirtless selfie, Victor took a deep breath, thumb hovered over position of his phone--
--when the bathroom door opened. Shit, did I not lock the fucking door? Victor jolted in surprise, the phone clambering from his hand and to the tile floor below. He faced the intruder with wide eyes, an embarrassed flush already creeping along his neck as he tried to think of a suitable explanation. “I, uh...this isn’t what it looks like?”
@elisabethstarters
remingtondutton:
location: alibi (port elisabeth) status: open ( @elisabethstarters )
The electricity had gone to shit again in Fremont. Yes, Remington wasn’t a complete fool in not having a generator but he refused to be bored at his house. His booze supply had been on it’s last legs so the male found himself at the bar. At least he could be social right? Better then to be drunk on the water. Though, he was sure he would be there the next day or few days. After the event a distraction was like gold to the male.
“If you thought you had a shit day - just remember this, at least you weren’t the guy who I just spoke to that got so drunk off his ass he tried to ice fish at the ice skating rink. Poor bastard.” The man muttered while taking a few swigs of his beer.
-
Victor’s day, surprisingly, hadn’t been shit. It was a slow day for Alibi, the hours filled with mostly regulars who needed little tending to, as long as he kept the beers coming. He was the only body on shift, a rarity with his ability (or lack-thereof) to make a proper drink, though he’d argue that he was getting increasingly better with that, as well. Nothing had been sent back yet that day, so he’d consider it a win.
As he slid the beer in front of Remington, Victor’s eyebrows raised in interest at the story, unable to keep the grin from tugging at his lips. “Hey, man, you don’t know. Maybe he actually caught something.” He joked, head shaking with a small chuckle as he wiped at a sticky spot on the counter. “Stranger things have happened.”
dawsonxromy:
—
Noticing the way his gaze trickles down towards her shoes, she follows suit and smiles out of embarrassment, “My feet were hurting.” Realizing he hadn’t seen her before this moment, she felt the need to elaborate with a clear of her throat, “I did come in some heels, but I just couldn’t do it anymore.” Anyone who knew Romy knew that heels just weren’t her thing. During her time with the band, she often attended many events and shows wearing the same ol’ beat down pair of Converse. And whenever she was forced to wear heels, well, it wouldn’t take long for her to shake them off and give them to one of the guys to hold. Which, more often than not, it was Victor who always seemed to look out for her.
“Oh, uh, sure?”
Her brows furrow together in confusion at his response, and she can’t help but respond with the same type of tone, “Yes?” Of course it wasn’t a question, it was merely said as a way to double check and make sure he really was okay with it. But it didn’t dawn on her until then that the ride back was at least an hour tops, if they were to manage avoiding any unseen obstacles.
And if she was being honest with herself, the car ride back could go one or two ways. The first being they resolve any unspoken awkwardness between them, and reinstate their ’best friends’ title. Or, they completely ignore each other for the duration of the ride and discuss absolutely nothing – she had her fingers crossed for the former. And of course Romy understands it is a big favor to ask of someone she still hasn’t mended things with – if there even was anything to mend – but the way they had embraced each other at her grandfather’s memorial only aided in her comfortability to ask.
But with a knack for brushing situations underneath the rug, and pretend like everything was right as rain, Romy hoped the New York debacle would just completely dissipate in front of their eyes.
“Were you ready to go now, or…?”
With her tongue pressed up against the inside of her lip, she nods her head, “Yup. If –” she glances between him and the woman,who was now gulping down rather large sips of water, and gingerly smiles, “ – if you’re okay with now?"
-
He hadn’t meant to get caught staring. Truthfully, Victor hadn’t even registered that he had been until Romy herself had taken notice, feet flexing in her signature beat up sneakers. An almost embarrassed smile overtakes his lips, curls bouncing with the shake of his head. She definitely didn’t owe him an explanation. Besides, the look was so incredibly Romy, that that was the only explanation he really needed. He’d been handed her high heels at more than enough red carpets to know that her tolerance for them was relatively low.
“It’s a look. Really.” Though his tone was teasing, his eyes dropped, just for a moment, back to the black ensemble. There were no words to describe how she looked in it.
Or out of it.
He quickly tried to vanquish the thought from his mind, but once the memory of that night infiltrated his brain, there was seldom he could do to get rid of it. The press of her lips against his, the way she moved underneath him, the sounds she’d made...
His embarrassment displayed on his cheeks, the red creeping up his skin, though luckily (or maybe not so) he could pass it off onto the conversation they were currently having rather than the dream living in his head. “No. I mean, yes...of course I’ll give you a ride.” Quickly, he amended, “home. A ride home.” As if there’d been a need for clarification.
God, he was already screwing this all up. It wasn’t supposed to be like this with Romy. She was his best friend. There’d been nothing he felt like he couldn’t tell her (save for maybe one thing), and now they stood across from one another like total strangers. The band breaking up had sucked, there was no denying it, but even in moments where Victor had thought of it happening, he never had imagined he’d have lost her completely. That was the worst part of it all.
“Now’s good.” Remembering his previous task, Victor spared a look over towards the drunken woman, who waved him off with a brush of her hand, encouraging him to go. A small part of him almost wished that she hadn’t, that she’d required his assistance for a few more minutes, but ultimately knew he’d only be prolonging the inevitable.
The walk to the car was done in awkward near silence. Conversation flowed in awkward politeness--how’s your night?, wow, it’s really coming down, bid on anything good?, no, me neither--and extended towards them clambering inside Victor’s mother’s car. The saving grace was, of course, the radio, which came to life at a roaring volume the minute the key was stuck in the ignition.
Victor scrambled to turn it down to a reasonable volume. “Sorry.” He huffed the apology, his breath visible even inside the car.
miarockefeller:
Mia laughed, showing off her two rows of sparkling white teeth as she shook her head a little. “More than you have in the bank Victor, I suggest you aim for something a little smaller if you’re going to bid tonight. Leave the trips to Cancun to me.” After all it was something the girl had actually bid on herself, she didn’t think he could rival her but it was better to remove the risk altogether. “Unless you’ve recently come into a considerably amount of money you want to splurge.” Resting her chin on her hand she smirked at him, watching him closely. “Do you want to put a bid in for me so you feel like you’re involved?”
-
Though true, the quip about his funds stung, just a bit. There’d been a time, not too long ago, where the money for a trip to Cancun would have been nothing. He’d been, in fact, multiple times. He’d been all over the world. And now he was home. “Just curious.” His head shook, tight smile on his lips. He’d heard that there was a $150,000 bid floating around somewhere. Part of him thought that maybe it was Mia herself. Her offer had him rolling his eyes, noting the smirk on her lips and knowing that she was more than enjoying teasing him. “So generous.” A smile did pull at his own though. “Place your own bid, Mia.”
gtfophil:
Phil was in her own world - as usual. She’d finally changed into her second gown of the evening and now her fingers were tapping away on the glass screen of her phone. But, it was the sudden revelation from Vic that finally pulled her back. Her head immediately snapped up so she could make eye contact with the male. “Are you seriously doing this right now, Victor?” she hissed, her head tilting slightly to the side as he continued. “She ruined an Alexis Mabille dress that easily costs three times her yearly salary and she could barely muster fake apologies about it. But I’m out of line for doing something her mother obviously didn’t care enough to do when she was young?” Phil couldn’t help the eye roll that subconsciously presented itself. “I really don’t want to hear about it. I walked away, and she didn’t even deserve that much.”
-
Did she even hear herself? Something her mother obviously didn’t care enough to do when she was young? Victor was appalled, but he shouldn’t have been. He knew Ophelia--as much as anybody could know her, he supposed--and it wasn’t as if this was out of character for her. “You have a second dress to change into.” It was hard to feel bad for her when even her backup dress probably cost more than he could even imagine. “And it was an accident, after you called her an idiot for no reason.” So perhaps it hadn’t been an accident, but whatever had gone on between the two women, Ophelia had clearly started it. “It was just low, Phi. Even for you.”
laurieontheisle:
•
Laurie looks down at the platter of canapés and offerings, and feels the corner of her lips lift into a grin. It doesn’t matter, it seems, just how sullen, frustrated, or upset she may feel: Victor’s puppy-like love, his generosity with his kindness and affection, always puts a smile on her face. Like Samara, he makes it a little easier to breathe.
“I could help you,” Laurie offers, donning the uniform jacket she’d shrugged off to help stack refilled flutes onto trays. “I still need to take my dinner break, so we could go hide away and eat all of this without, like… Y’know, worrying about getting into trouble, or whatever.”
Not that she cares. Laurie’s had more than enough of the event’s flighty, sharp-tongued supervisor and his scathing comments about how this should be done, or how that’s all wrong, or how there is a serious lack of quality among the staff tonight. She’s unaware, and blissfully so, that the worst is yet to come; it’ll take the shape of one Ophelia Wilson, whose luxurious gown is in danger of being ruined, much like the rest of Laurie’s night.
-
Gathering all the canapés for them had worked up quite an appetite in Victor. Who knew it was so hard to run those caterers down? Though he was unsure how the skewered appetizers were supposed to fill anybody up, they were were better than nothing...and combined with a Beaver Tail or two (or three), he was sure he wouldn’t be heading home hungry.
Trouble was exactly what he was trying to avoid, too. Not so much for him, but for Laurie and Samara. Though he’d been hanging by their sides most of the night, he’d tried to make himself small, nonexistent. He’d sat there most of the night, nursed (drained) his champagnes, chatted while there were gaps in guests needing tending to. Just because he wasn’t working that night didn’t mean he got to cause them problems. But Laurie had a point. She needed her well deserved dinner break, and Victor didn’t mind a step away from the overcrowded lobby.
“Snag one of those drink trays, will you?” Mischievous smile on his lips, Victor took a look around for anybody who may have been watching. Deciding they were in the clear, the canapés were loaded onto the tray, and the last minute addition of a whole champagne bottle accompanied it, both in Victor’s grip as he began to book it towards the nearest exit, pushing Laurie with him. “Go, go, go!”
luceehq:
Lucy used to smoke in college, she had quit since graduating and the blonde has been doing good ever since. Always keeping a lighter on her, the women liked to keep one in case any one had needed one. She was standing outside trying to give herself a brake and take a breather. Standing up against the wall, Lucy smiled when she saw Victor and then nodded her head “I do. I used to smoke but I quit, but I always have a lighter in my bag.” Lucy said, laughing a bit and then took out the lighter and handed it to him “Here you go.” Closing her purse now, Lucy continued with “How are you Vic? You having fun?” She questioned him
-
“You’re a lifesaver, thank you.” He huffed, frozen fingers reaching for the lighter and making quick work of sparking the end of the cigarette. He didn’t consider himself addicted, though drinking did always make him more inclined to having one. Or three. Victor had been trying to kick the habit since returning home, but the added stress of everything that’d gone down in the last eight months didn’t exactly work in his favor. “How’d you do it? Quit, I mean.” He asked after the first drag, flicking the ash by his feet. Not that it would matter, though part of him was curious.
Her own question earned a snort from him. “Oh, yeah. A blast.” But knowing she was only trying to be polite, he softened. “It’s kind of hard not to have fun where there’s free booze involved.” Taking another drag, he breathed, “what about you?”
sheapatel:
➳
Shea came down from the bar to watch people ice skate, definitely not opting to join in, by any means. She’s been telling everyone all night that the only way that she was going out there was in a body bag and definitely not in this dress. The volume, not to mention the length, would most definitely have her eating ice before too long. “Are you out of your mind? Have you seen me?” she asks, gesturing to her gown. “I am not going out there in this. I’ll trip myself, everyone else and not to mention ruin it.”
-
It was a beautiful dress, he had to admit. And one that would make ice skating more difficult than it already was. With a grimace, Victor nodded his head, conceding to her point. “I guess it was an interesting choice. For an event like this.” Between skating and the Glow Tubes, how any of them were going to get out of there with clothes unscathed was a mystery. At the thought of the tubes, however, Victor’s gaze wandered, surprised to see the line shorter than it had been hours earlier. “Would that be a no for a race, then?” His eyebrow rose, already beginning to back up towards the hill.
