Reticent
𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘴
Current Day
2:03 pm
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2:03 pm
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Realistic or Modern Shameless: A Dysfunctional Family RP (Main)
- Thread starter Reticent
- Start date
dimensional
thor's favorite
- sucker -
2:03 pm, McGee Household
"Da fuck?" he questioned, taking another bite of his meal. He stood and ate his cereal, watching the slob of a human snore before him. From the smell of it, he'd pissed himself but not pissed on the couch. Impressive as it was gross. Lucky waited until he'd neared the last bites before he poured the entire bowl's worth of milk on his head.
"Goddamnitwhatthefuckiswrongwithyou?!?!" Rox jumped up swinging before getting a good slap to the face.
"Get the fuck out." Lucky said sternly, pushing him out toward the door and having to deal with his beer-stank. The man bitch and griped, roughing up just before Lucky got him out the door, pushing him out. "You can come back when you're not Rockerfeller McGee," he spat, tossing the bowl at his father's face. "Or at least when you can get some rent money." he added, slamming the door in his face.
atomic
𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒. 𝒶𝒽𝒶𝒽𝒶. 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀.
CHARLIE MCGEE
I CANT TELL YOU . . .
WHAT I FEEL INSIDE . . .
THIS FEELING BURNS INSIDE MY MIND
JUST A LITTLE POOR ME . . .
BOOKER FRYE . . .
GIMME THAT CASH . . .
FILL THE BAG UP . . .
'CAUSE NOTHIN'S GON' STOP
THIS KID . . .
Charlie McGee
Against his better judgment, most likely, Charlie had spent most of the day in his own room. Why? Because he'd watched his dad wobble past Booker's front porch and fall on their doorstep next door. Of course, he was gonna peace out and help his dad into the house with the spare key he knew Lucky hid in the back for the rest of them. And Charlie had set his dad on the couch, getting him a beer from the fridge when he was asked for it. Charlie wasn't entirely sure that his dad knew it was him, but he didn't really mind, you know? He was just relieved the old guy still came around. It was getting rarer and rarer to see him.
He'd gone up to his room, thrown in his earphones, and tried to drown out all the snoring with some weed and a new band Bo had shown him. He wasn't sure when he'd gotten to sleep but he had nowhere to be the next day, so he'd slept in. Charlie woke at around twelve, threw on some clothes and spent the next hour or so reading with his music in. That's pretty much all Charlie did when he decided to come home. His door would always be locked. Charlie only remembered after looking at his clock that Lucky would definitely be waking up soon. And his father was still downstairs on the couch.
"Shit," he muttered, pulling his earphones out and tossing his book aside. But by the time he actually got down the stairs, he stopped in time to see Lucky pouring his bowl of milk over their dad's head. Of course he didn't say anything. He never talked to them unless he absolutely had to or if he was with other people. When it was just them, though? Charlie conveyed his thoughts through carefully constructed expressions. Silently he watched in dismay, clinging to the banister with his brows furrowed as Lucky pushed the dad back out.
Charlie hadn't even gotten to say good morning to the man.
The dismay turned into practiced anger and resentment the second he made eye contact. And then he was grabbing his jacket and passing Lucky with his middle finger extended on the way out the door. His dad was already... Jesus, where the hell was he? He chewed on his lip, cursing to himself before hopping their fence into the neighbor's yard. The wave of weed that hit him was like a comfort blanket and he was letting himself into Booker's house, conscious that Omi was probably in her room or over at her friend's. "Bo! Where'd ya put the remote?"
Against his better judgment, most likely, Charlie had spent most of the day in his own room. Why? Because he'd watched his dad wobble past Booker's front porch and fall on their doorstep next door. Of course, he was gonna peace out and help his dad into the house with the spare key he knew Lucky hid in the back for the rest of them. And Charlie had set his dad on the couch, getting him a beer from the fridge when he was asked for it. Charlie wasn't entirely sure that his dad knew it was him, but he didn't really mind, you know? He was just relieved the old guy still came around. It was getting rarer and rarer to see him.
He'd gone up to his room, thrown in his earphones, and tried to drown out all the snoring with some weed and a new band Bo had shown him. He wasn't sure when he'd gotten to sleep but he had nowhere to be the next day, so he'd slept in. Charlie woke at around twelve, threw on some clothes and spent the next hour or so reading with his music in. That's pretty much all Charlie did when he decided to come home. His door would always be locked. Charlie only remembered after looking at his clock that Lucky would definitely be waking up soon. And his father was still downstairs on the couch.
"Shit," he muttered, pulling his earphones out and tossing his book aside. But by the time he actually got down the stairs, he stopped in time to see Lucky pouring his bowl of milk over their dad's head. Of course he didn't say anything. He never talked to them unless he absolutely had to or if he was with other people. When it was just them, though? Charlie conveyed his thoughts through carefully constructed expressions. Silently he watched in dismay, clinging to the banister with his brows furrowed as Lucky pushed the dad back out.
Charlie hadn't even gotten to say good morning to the man.
The dismay turned into practiced anger and resentment the second he made eye contact. And then he was grabbing his jacket and passing Lucky with his middle finger extended on the way out the door. His dad was already... Jesus, where the hell was he? He chewed on his lip, cursing to himself before hopping their fence into the neighbor's yard. The wave of weed that hit him was like a comfort blanket and he was letting himself into Booker's house, conscious that Omi was probably in her room or over at her friend's. "Bo! Where'd ya put the remote?"
Booker Frye
"Fuckin' hell," the man pushed a hand through his hair, eyes only slightly bloodshot from the weed he'd smoked the night before. Some of it was still in his system and the last thing he wanted to do was... anything, really. But it was the fifth or sixth time Bo had gone back into his bathroom to check if his eyes were still bloodshot. It's not like he had anybody to impress.
He fucking didn't. But you'd think he could hold off for one night when your best friend was getting out of juvie. Sort of. He wasn't actually sure if he and Malik were really friends? Okay, they were. But were they? Sometimes he didn't really know what people thought about their relationship with him since he tried his very best to be a giant piece of shit at least ninety-eight percent of the time. But at the very least, Malik trusted him. Trusted him to take care of Vice and keep him updated, and Bo had done his best. It was just..... a lot of responsibility.
And Booker was already busy selling their gang's merchandise to pay the electric bill and feed his family. Though, he was still a couple hundred dollars short of what he needed to make this month. Working street corners wasn't cutting it much anymore, especially when he was also taking a piece of his cut to get that neighbor punk his drugs. Lord knows Charlie would explode if he had to work, himself. Ah, he just wasn't doing so great and the intense red shadow in the whites of his eyes pointed that out. Booker splashed some water on his face, hoping to God he could sober up just a little bit. If not, it wasn't the end of the world.
He was wearing what he usually was, black worn jeans and his faithful grey hoodie that reeked of his extracurricular activities and cigarette smoke. He spent a deceptively fair amount of time getting his hair to look gloriously disheveled. And his stubble had to look like he didn't care but cared just enough at the same time. Since high school, Booker hadn’t changed too much. Except that he gained more muscle weight and his features had really started to fill out as he lost more of that boyish roundness in his cheeks from his teenage years. He looked good. Stoned. But good.
"Bo! Where d'ya put the remote?"
Oh.. the spawn was here. He poked his head out of the bathroom and cocked his brow at the younger McGee brother who had made himself comfortable on the couch. He looked upset. When did Chuck not look upset, though? Especially when he came from his own house, which he seemed to have just done. "Fuck if I know, you were the last one to use the remote. But not today, Chucky." He hopped into the living room and shooed the kid off the couch, "My boss is gettin' out of juvie today, and he has no idea you exist."
"I want to meet him."
"No you don't. He's an asshole."
"So are you," Charlie argued pointedly, being pushed out the door and on Booker's front porch with the older male.
"Sure, but he's a different kind of asshole." He propped a hand on his hip, watching Chuck and studying the kid's expression. He still looked... upset. Movement across the street caught his eye as he made out the neighborhood alcoholic, Rox, stumbling along looking as pleasant as always. Something surrendered in Booker's eyes and he sighed, "Okay fine. You can meet him. But fuckin' none of your attitude bullshit. And I'll kick your ass if you mouth off. Here, smoke with me. I need to piss off Lucy." He passed Charlie a cigarette and leaned against his porch railing, white knuckles gripping the wood and thumb rapping against it sporadically.
"Fuckin' hell," the man pushed a hand through his hair, eyes only slightly bloodshot from the weed he'd smoked the night before. Some of it was still in his system and the last thing he wanted to do was... anything, really. But it was the fifth or sixth time Bo had gone back into his bathroom to check if his eyes were still bloodshot. It's not like he had anybody to impress.
He fucking didn't. But you'd think he could hold off for one night when your best friend was getting out of juvie. Sort of. He wasn't actually sure if he and Malik were really friends? Okay, they were. But were they? Sometimes he didn't really know what people thought about their relationship with him since he tried his very best to be a giant piece of shit at least ninety-eight percent of the time. But at the very least, Malik trusted him. Trusted him to take care of Vice and keep him updated, and Bo had done his best. It was just..... a lot of responsibility.
And Booker was already busy selling their gang's merchandise to pay the electric bill and feed his family. Though, he was still a couple hundred dollars short of what he needed to make this month. Working street corners wasn't cutting it much anymore, especially when he was also taking a piece of his cut to get that neighbor punk his drugs. Lord knows Charlie would explode if he had to work, himself. Ah, he just wasn't doing so great and the intense red shadow in the whites of his eyes pointed that out. Booker splashed some water on his face, hoping to God he could sober up just a little bit. If not, it wasn't the end of the world.
He was wearing what he usually was, black worn jeans and his faithful grey hoodie that reeked of his extracurricular activities and cigarette smoke. He spent a deceptively fair amount of time getting his hair to look gloriously disheveled. And his stubble had to look like he didn't care but cared just enough at the same time. Since high school, Booker hadn’t changed too much. Except that he gained more muscle weight and his features had really started to fill out as he lost more of that boyish roundness in his cheeks from his teenage years. He looked good. Stoned. But good.
"Bo! Where d'ya put the remote?"
Oh.. the spawn was here. He poked his head out of the bathroom and cocked his brow at the younger McGee brother who had made himself comfortable on the couch. He looked upset. When did Chuck not look upset, though? Especially when he came from his own house, which he seemed to have just done. "Fuck if I know, you were the last one to use the remote. But not today, Chucky." He hopped into the living room and shooed the kid off the couch, "My boss is gettin' out of juvie today, and he has no idea you exist."
"I want to meet him."
"No you don't. He's an asshole."
"So are you," Charlie argued pointedly, being pushed out the door and on Booker's front porch with the older male.
"Sure, but he's a different kind of asshole." He propped a hand on his hip, watching Chuck and studying the kid's expression. He still looked... upset. Movement across the street caught his eye as he made out the neighborhood alcoholic, Rox, stumbling along looking as pleasant as always. Something surrendered in Booker's eyes and he sighed, "Okay fine. You can meet him. But fuckin' none of your attitude bullshit. And I'll kick your ass if you mouth off. Here, smoke with me. I need to piss off Lucy." He passed Charlie a cigarette and leaned against his porch railing, white knuckles gripping the wood and thumb rapping against it sporadically.
Last edited:
erzulie
cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul
Malik Hughes was a free man once again. His mother and grandmother had greeted him with tears in their eyes, you’d think that he’d been gone for years instead of months. Nonetheless he returned their hugs as they stood outside of the detention center. Being the ever stoic person that he was his face remained blank as they reconciled, though his eyes had soften tremendously for a second. Without looking back Malik left with his family. He looked out of the window silently. He was already deep in thought. There was so much that needed to be done once he arrived home. There was so time for slacking or breaks. Malik ran a hand over his head, remembering that a haircut was one of the many things that he needed to get done.
He’d arrived around noon. His mother had cooked a large meal to celebrate his return and Malik all but inhaled the meal. Compared to his mother’s cooking, the food in Juvie could be compared to slop. He was never more happier to be home that in that moment. Malik took his time to get ready for the day, he was in no rush. He’d left his business in good hands. So after getting ready for the day and a much needed haircut Malik headed over to one of the warehouses. He’d checked the products, made calls with certain business associates, and just caught up with whatever else needed to be caught up with. Malik was greeted by his boys when he reached the safehouse and soon word spread of his return.
Now it was time to see what was up with his second command. So he hopped in his baby, a silver Audi Q7, that he’d gotten himself before he’d been taken away. When Malik pulled up to Booker’s house he parked in the driveway. Booker was someone that Malik considered a friend, not that he’d ever tell him that. They’d been neighbors for year and both fell to the game at early ages. It was only natural that they’d end up being friends. Booker was someone he trusted to have his back, he felt like his loyalty would never come into question. As he stepped out of the bar he noticed a few things. Firstly the father of the McGee kids stumbling around, Malik was sure that he was drunk, high, or both.
He smirked slightly and shook his head, it was nice to know that things hadn’t changed or so he thought. When Malik turned his attention to Booker’s house again he narrowed his eyes upon seeing a kid on the porch with him. Malik sauntered over, his casual pace hiding the fact that he was hyper aware of his surroundings. Malik locked his down as he climbed the steps. He faced the two of them, saying nothing as he looked over the kid. After what seemed like years he looked to Booker with a raised eyebrow. “Who’s the kid?” Malik starred at Booker with his usual intense gaze, his dark eyes seemed to look through his very being. Malik plucked the cigarette from the boy’s hand and brought it to his full lips. “Booker, what kind of example are you setting for the kid?” He tsked. Malik didn’t care in all honestly but he wanted to see how the newcomer reacted.
code by Ri.a
Last edited:
dimensional
thor's favorite
- wrong way -
2:15, stumbling down Francis Blvd.
He'd passed by the Frye's, where his youngest son spent his time. Better them than that bitch Lucifer. He regretted the day Josie pushed him out. Rox could swear that his oldest always hated him.He shook his head at the thought, then walked into Syd's One Stop. He still had a fiver from when Charlie gave him a portion some check. He made his way to the back and picked up a four loko. The hideous taste would be sure to pick up his spirits.
After paying the cashier, he stepped out of the store and sniffed himself. He smelled horrible, like milk and burning ammonia. He shook his head again and started walkig to the Davis' yard. He'd have to hose off in the front yard, but if he didn't care then fuck anyone else's opinion on it. The man didn't even bother taking his clothes off, letting the cold spray soak him and take a fraction of the smell with it.
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atomic
𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒. 𝒶𝒽𝒶𝒽𝒶. 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀.
BOOKER FRYE . . .
GIMME THAT CASH . . .
FILL THE BAG UP . . .
'CAUSE NOTHIN'S GON' STOP
THIS KID . . .
CHARLIE MCGEE
I CANT TELL YOU . . .
WHAT I FEEL INSIDE . . .
THIS FEELING BURNS INSIDE MY MIND
JUST A LITTLE POOR ME . . .
.coding by
atomic
atomic
dimensional
thor's favorite
- sucker -
"Morning." he yelled out with a smile to a couple passing by, who looked at him with a look of confusion. Well, the female did anyway. Lucky recognized the male as a regular at Shakers, the nightclub that Lucky had the pleasure of dancing at. He spotted Malik, Book, and Charlie smoking on the Frye's doorstep, which earned a deep sigh from him. Charlie really didn't need to be laced up on the last days before school started. Of course, Lucky stayed his ass right where he was. He'd dragged the boy by the scruff of his neck too many times for Charlie not to know how he felt about all that.
"You two idiots," he yelled, grabbing a water from the cooler he kept on the porch, "Have him home in one piece today. He has to be presentable for those bastards at the Charter. You know how hard it'll be if DCFS comes back down here." he warned, half-heartedly aggressive.
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erzulie
cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul
“I’m the asshole? You couldn’t even clean yourself up for me on my big day? A damn shame.” Malik drawled yet he kept his eyes on Charlie. He gave him a slow once over as he fished a lighter out of his pocket and lit his cigarette. His eyes narrowed even more when the skinny boy had the balls to insult him. Malik’s eyes seemed to darken in that moment but he said nothing. In fact he looked quite bored. Malik was thinking hard honestly. He was trying to decide on whether he should sock the other boy in the mouth or pimp slap him, there were so many options to choose from and he had always been a little indecisive. If it was one thing that Malik hated, If was disrespect. It didn’t help that Charlie was a stranger as well. Malik took a few steps closer to the shorter boy. He was well within his personal space at this point but he couldn’t find it within himself to care.
Malik straightened to his full height now, his casual and slightly slouching posture a thing of the past. “Poodle...leech, you’re a funny one.” He said. Malik’s tone held no amusement and neither did his voice. “You got a smart mouth, it’d be a shame if anything happened to it wouldn’t it?” He drawled. “You’re awfully bold for someone using my shit aren’t you? I wonder how long your last after being cut off huh? Would you still be a funny guy?” He tilted his head. “And your pops too, I bet he’d hate being kept from his shit right? It’d hurt to find out that it’s his own kid’s fault wouldn’t it…?”
Malik then looked to Booker with a less than impressed look on his face before turning back to Charlie. “Will it be a fuckin’ problem Charlie?” He asked casually before taking a step back. Malik took a hit of his cigarette and turned his attention back to Booker. “You made a new friend and bulked up since I’ve been gone. Good for you. It’d be best if you tell your friends just who the hell I am.” And the he smiled. It held no kindness and seemed more like a snarl than anything.
Malik turned his head when he heard shouting. He could make out the words of the oldest McGee kid. He blinked slowly before shrugging his shoulders. It wasn’t his problem. “So how have you been and what‘s you taking so long to invite inside?” He looked to Booker once again.
code by Ri.a
atomic
𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒. 𝒶𝒽𝒶𝒽𝒶. 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀.
CHARLIE MCGEE
I CANT TELL YOU . . .
WHAT I FEEL INSIDE . . .
THIS FEELING BURNS INSIDE MY MIND
JUST A LITTLE POOR ME . . .
BOOKER FRYE . . .
GIMME THAT CASH . . .
FILL THE BAG UP . . .
'CAUSE NOTHIN'S GON' STOP
THIS KID . . .
.coding by
atomic
Jinx of Chaos
Junior Member
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[div class=picbox][div class=locbox]Location: His apartment
Mentioned:
Interacting w/
Outfit: [/div][div class=name] Tim [/div]
[/div]
[div class=hidescrollcontent][div class=contentbox]
I really want a pet bird or two, and to wake up earlier- but it's my day off, so I forgive myself this time. Tim thought to himself as he stepped out of his bedroom, looking at the living room. Even though it had been a year since he moved out, he still missed to have someone greeting him when he woke up or arrived home. Birds would be a good option, since he liked birds and they could talk - sadly, his current situation didn't allow him to have birds considering how much attention they would require and how little he was home. He continued his way to the kitchen, which was in a little room next to the living room, with no door between. Tim opened the fridge, pulling out eggs, cheese and other ingredients he'd need for an omelette. Maybe once Im an avian vet, I can get myself some birds to keep me company. Until then, Its just me, myself and I.
Sitting on the sofa, Tim cut a piece of his omelette while watching some romantic tv-show he had started with. Sometimes he had these weird "phases" where he would pretty much only watch certain types of tv-programs or movies, and currently he was on the romance-type. Run after her, what are you waiting for? Tim leaned forward as he was immersed in what was happening on the tv. The main characters had a fight, and the girl ran off, leaving the guy behind - not surprising, but it somehow always got Tim feeling with the characters. And then, the episode ended in a cliffhanger, making Tim groan out loud. Damn it, everytime. He stood up, closed the tv and carried his dishes to the kitchen. He had been so into the tv that he forgot to finish all the omelette, but he wasn't that hungry anymore. Mom told me that I'm getting chubby, anyway. His mother adored skinny people, and not the healthy type.
Realizing he hadn't dressed up yet, Tim made his way back to his bedroom and started searching his drawers for clothes. No matter how well he organized them, he tended to take forever to choose what to wear. No, no, nope. Tim sighed, and sat on the floor. How have I survived a year alone, if I cant even pick what to wear? He slid down on his back, letting out a frustrated groan.
[/div][/div]
[div class=picbox][div class=locbox]Location: His apartment
Mentioned:
Interacting w/
Outfit: [/div][div class=name] Tim [/div]
[/div]
[div class=hidescrollcontent][div class=contentbox]
I really want a pet bird or two, and to wake up earlier- but it's my day off, so I forgive myself this time. Tim thought to himself as he stepped out of his bedroom, looking at the living room. Even though it had been a year since he moved out, he still missed to have someone greeting him when he woke up or arrived home. Birds would be a good option, since he liked birds and they could talk - sadly, his current situation didn't allow him to have birds considering how much attention they would require and how little he was home. He continued his way to the kitchen, which was in a little room next to the living room, with no door between. Tim opened the fridge, pulling out eggs, cheese and other ingredients he'd need for an omelette. Maybe once Im an avian vet, I can get myself some birds to keep me company. Until then, Its just me, myself and I.
Sitting on the sofa, Tim cut a piece of his omelette while watching some romantic tv-show he had started with. Sometimes he had these weird "phases" where he would pretty much only watch certain types of tv-programs or movies, and currently he was on the romance-type. Run after her, what are you waiting for? Tim leaned forward as he was immersed in what was happening on the tv. The main characters had a fight, and the girl ran off, leaving the guy behind - not surprising, but it somehow always got Tim feeling with the characters. And then, the episode ended in a cliffhanger, making Tim groan out loud. Damn it, everytime. He stood up, closed the tv and carried his dishes to the kitchen. He had been so into the tv that he forgot to finish all the omelette, but he wasn't that hungry anymore. Mom told me that I'm getting chubby, anyway. His mother adored skinny people, and not the healthy type.
Realizing he hadn't dressed up yet, Tim made his way back to his bedroom and started searching his drawers for clothes. No matter how well he organized them, he tended to take forever to choose what to wear. No, no, nope. Tim sighed, and sat on the floor. How have I survived a year alone, if I cant even pick what to wear? He slid down on his back, letting out a frustrated groan.
[/div][/div]
I really want a pet bird or two, and to wake up earlier- but it's my day off, so I forgive myself this time. Tim thought to himself as he stepped out of his bedroom, looking at the living room. Even though it had been a year since he moved out, he still missed to have someone greeting him when he woke up or arrived home. Birds would be a good option, since he liked birds and they could talk - sadly, his current situation didn't allow him to have birds considering how much attention they would require and how little he was home. He continued his way to the kitchen, which was in a little room next to the living room, with no door between. Tim opened the fridge, pulling out eggs, cheese and other ingredients he'd need for an omelette. Maybe once Im an avian vet, I can get myself some birds to keep me company. Until then, Its just me, myself and I.
Sitting on the sofa, Tim cut a piece of his omelette while watching some romantic tv-show he had started with. Sometimes he had these weird "phases" where he would pretty much only watch certain types of tv-programs or movies, and currently he was on the romance-type. Run after her, what are you waiting for? Tim leaned forward as he was immersed in what was happening on the tv. The main characters had a fight, and the girl ran off, leaving the guy behind - not surprising, but it somehow always got Tim feeling with the characters. And then, the episode ended in a cliffhanger, making Tim groan out loud. Damn it, everytime. He stood up, closed the tv and carried his dishes to the kitchen. He had been so into the tv that he forgot to finish all the omelette, but he wasn't that hungry anymore. Mom told me that I'm getting chubby, anyway. His mother adored skinny people, and not the healthy type.
Realizing he hadn't dressed up yet, Tim made his way back to his bedroom and started searching his drawers for clothes. No matter how well he organized them, he tended to take forever to choose what to wear. No, no, nope. Tim sighed, and sat on the floor. How have I survived a year alone, if I cant even pick what to wear? He slid down on his back, letting out a frustrated groan.
Sitting on the sofa, Tim cut a piece of his omelette while watching some romantic tv-show he had started with. Sometimes he had these weird "phases" where he would pretty much only watch certain types of tv-programs or movies, and currently he was on the romance-type. Run after her, what are you waiting for? Tim leaned forward as he was immersed in what was happening on the tv. The main characters had a fight, and the girl ran off, leaving the guy behind - not surprising, but it somehow always got Tim feeling with the characters. And then, the episode ended in a cliffhanger, making Tim groan out loud. Damn it, everytime. He stood up, closed the tv and carried his dishes to the kitchen. He had been so into the tv that he forgot to finish all the omelette, but he wasn't that hungry anymore. Mom told me that I'm getting chubby, anyway. His mother adored skinny people, and not the healthy type.
Realizing he hadn't dressed up yet, Tim made his way back to his bedroom and started searching his drawers for clothes. No matter how well he organized them, he tended to take forever to choose what to wear. No, no, nope. Tim sighed, and sat on the floor. How have I survived a year alone, if I cant even pick what to wear? He slid down on his back, letting out a frustrated groan.
Last edited:
erzulie
cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul
Malik watched Charlie in amusement as he mouthed off. He had to admit that the other boy had balls. Malik didn’t seem bothered as he met Charlie’s gaze over Booker’s shoulder. He merely raised an eyebrow at the younger boy. Malik watched him until he disappeared inside. He could already tell that he’d end up doing more that threatening him one day. “Well if he’d kept his mouth shut that wouldn’t have happened in the first place. I’ve handled others in worse ways for less.” He shot Booker a knowing look. Malik snorted and shook his head. “Since when have I given two shits about impressing anyone? I thought you knew me better than that dick.” He his hurt tone was clearly fake. “It’s interesting though, since when are you the type to take in strays? Makes me wonder…” He stated. “But anyway his age doesn’t matter, for his sake let’s hope he falls in line like the rest.
When Malik noticed another McGee walking out of their house he figured that it was time for him to head inside. If they were anything like their brother he didn’t know what he’d do if they started some shit. Without a word to the family beside them Malik headed inside. He walked straight into the kitchen to grab a beer before walking into the living room and sitting on the couch. Malik opened his phone up and began texting away with one hand and sipping his beer with the other.
code by Ri.a
dimensional
thor's favorite
- sucker -
mentions: Kris
mood: unbothered
tags:
apolla
mood: unbothered
tags:
apolla
"And tell that to your idiot brother too." he added, for good measure. Saved him a step of having a strained conversation with the kid.
atomic
𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒. 𝒶𝒽𝒶𝒽𝒶. 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀.
CHARLIE MCGEE
I CANT TELL YOU . . .
WHAT I FEEL INSIDE . . .
THIS FEELING BURNS INSIDE MY MIND
JUST A LITTLE POOR ME . . .
BOOKER FRYE . . .
GIMME THAT CASH . . .
FILL THE BAG UP . . .
'CAUSE NOTHIN'S GON' STOP
THIS KID . . .
.coding by
atomic
Charlie couldn't be bothered by what Booker had stayed out to talk to Malik for. As far as he knew, the guy lived and breathed for that gang, but Charlie sometimes wondered if the gang was adding a load of stress he didn't want. Charlie certainly didn't want any of that stress. He couldn't imagine working for that Malik guy. He'd probably drive himself crazy in no time and purposefully take one pill too many.
Speak of the devil, Malik was coming in the house and Charlie was feeling a little territorial. It didn't feel right sharing this place with the guy. Of course, he used to expect Bo kicking him out before Malik got there, but Malik had been gone for months. Charlie got used to having the place whenever he wanted, stress-free and no gang leader in sight. Charlie already had a beer and was sipping it in the kitchen while the other made his home in the living room. Awesome.
This was just awesome. He loved to share. man, he needed something better than a cigarette, already. The evening couldn't move fast enough for the younger McGee son. It was only a matter of time before Malik left and he'd have that couch back. Like hell he was going home in one piece just because Lucky said so. Lucky said a lot of things that went through one ear and out the other. What else was new? "Yo, how long've you been running this gang? Did you buy that car out there yourself? Should be careful, leaving it in front of Bo's house. Some guys keep coming by scopin' the place out."
Speak of the devil, Malik was coming in the house and Charlie was feeling a little territorial. It didn't feel right sharing this place with the guy. Of course, he used to expect Bo kicking him out before Malik got there, but Malik had been gone for months. Charlie got used to having the place whenever he wanted, stress-free and no gang leader in sight. Charlie already had a beer and was sipping it in the kitchen while the other made his home in the living room. Awesome.
This was just awesome. He loved to share. man, he needed something better than a cigarette, already. The evening couldn't move fast enough for the younger McGee son. It was only a matter of time before Malik left and he'd have that couch back. Like hell he was going home in one piece just because Lucky said so. Lucky said a lot of things that went through one ear and out the other. What else was new? "Yo, how long've you been running this gang? Did you buy that car out there yourself? Should be careful, leaving it in front of Bo's house. Some guys keep coming by scopin' the place out."
Booker lifted his gaze when the youngest sister interrupted them, calling him a hillbilly. Hillbily? He looked down at his clothes and resisted the urge to tell her that hillbillies were country-folk who mostly lived in the fuckin' Appalachians. But since he wouldn't be able to explain why he knew random shit like that, he resignedly just humored the name with a nod. In any case, he ended up turning tail before Kris thought to start flirting with him.
He'd do love to bother Lucky with it any other day of the week, but he was currently leaving Charlie unsupervised in his house with his boss, so today wasn't a good day. Inside, he only just caught Charlie talking to Malik about those guys hanging around his house. They'd started to come by every now and again after the news spread that Malik was in Juvie and Booker was acting leader. But nothing ever happened. And it wouldn't if they didn't want a fuckin' bullet each in their skulls. He flicked his nose and sniffed, before popping open his own beer, grimacing at how low his stash was getting.
"Ah, they're just pokin' around. If they're smart they'll find a better house to rob," The man collapsed on his couch with a heavy sigh, throwing back his beer after reaching for something in his pocket, "So, I may be half baked, but I was sure to get ya a gift. Hell, the block's throwin' ya a welcome back party." He passed over a crinkled warm flyer to the taller male, letting his head fall back lazily as he watched his boss read it over, "Okay, the party's not for you. Think it's an end of the summer, abandon all hope before school starts sort of thing. There'll be a lot of fuckin' low life's looking for a gram and a burger. Say we pull out the food truck? Sell a bit of merch on the side, yeah? Fuck, put an apron on Charlie. He'd love to flip burgers for ya. Ain't that right, Chucky Boy?"
"Fuck you, I'm not spending my last weekend getting other people high."
"You will if you wanna keep crashin' on my couch. Omi's said she walked in on you taking a piss in our sink. Have some class, will ya."
"Take shorter dumps."
"My house. Now shut up. Whadda ya think, man. You in? Just gotta get us the truck."
He'd do love to bother Lucky with it any other day of the week, but he was currently leaving Charlie unsupervised in his house with his boss, so today wasn't a good day. Inside, he only just caught Charlie talking to Malik about those guys hanging around his house. They'd started to come by every now and again after the news spread that Malik was in Juvie and Booker was acting leader. But nothing ever happened. And it wouldn't if they didn't want a fuckin' bullet each in their skulls. He flicked his nose and sniffed, before popping open his own beer, grimacing at how low his stash was getting.
"Ah, they're just pokin' around. If they're smart they'll find a better house to rob," The man collapsed on his couch with a heavy sigh, throwing back his beer after reaching for something in his pocket, "So, I may be half baked, but I was sure to get ya a gift. Hell, the block's throwin' ya a welcome back party." He passed over a crinkled warm flyer to the taller male, letting his head fall back lazily as he watched his boss read it over, "Okay, the party's not for you. Think it's an end of the summer, abandon all hope before school starts sort of thing. There'll be a lot of fuckin' low life's looking for a gram and a burger. Say we pull out the food truck? Sell a bit of merch on the side, yeah? Fuck, put an apron on Charlie. He'd love to flip burgers for ya. Ain't that right, Chucky Boy?"
"Fuck you, I'm not spending my last weekend getting other people high."
"You will if you wanna keep crashin' on my couch. Omi's said she walked in on you taking a piss in our sink. Have some class, will ya."
"Take shorter dumps."
"My house. Now shut up. Whadda ya think, man. You in? Just gotta get us the truck."
erzulie
cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul
Malik was enjoying the silence the surrounded them. He was never much of a talker to begin with. Malik continued to scroll through his phone as the kid began talking. He took another sip of his beer. Considering that Charlie seemed to dislike him already he hadn’t been expecting him to make small talk. Malik finished off his beer before running a hand over his head, feeling his waves unconsciously. He contemplated on whether he should answer his question or not. “Long enough. Yes. Don’t worry about it, I doubt anyone is that stupid.” He replied. Malik has his care for a while now so there was no doubt that everyone knew that it was his. And if someone had the balls to steal from him, well he’d deal with it according.
Malik turned his attention to Booker once he walked in and sat down. He only raised a brow when he mentioned the party, taking the flyer from him as he handed it over. Malik looked over it silently for a few moments. “What a crappy gift.” He shook his head but there was no heat behind his words. Malik nodded as he listened to Booker speak, his mind moving a mile a minute with ideas. “I….” He began to speak but paused when he remembered that they weren’t alone. “I’ll think about it. And don’t worry your pretty head kid, this concerns the gang only.” He looked at Booker pointedly. Malik thought that it was a great idea but he was hesitant to talk about business with the other guy present. “There are a shit ton of other people we know who can flip burgers. Plus it’ll be too much trouble and a headache if his family decides to start some shit or annoy us.” He shook his head.
code by Ri.a
dimensional
thor's favorite
- the next day -
5pm, @Dinky's
atomic
𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒. 𝒶𝒽𝒶𝒽𝒶. 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀.
CHARLIE MCGEE
OH, ALL MY HOPES ARE . . .
UP ON THE CEILING . . .
AND ALL MY FREINDS ARE HIGH AND . . .
I CAN'T KEEP UP . . .
BOOKER FRYE . . .
I GOT SUNSHINE IN MY MIND . . .
WAKE UP AND I SAY . . .
BABY, I'M A LOSER, YEAH YEAH YEAH
JUST LIKE YOU, JUST LIKE YOU . . .
.coding by
atomic
Charlie was already high. Of course he was already high. He didn't need to get his dope from Booker's food truck when he had a healthy supply 'of his own' in the guy's house. He left a little note telling the guy what he'd taken and that 'I swear I'll pay you back - C' before heading out with his head in the clouds. He had a few pills in his pocket for whomever found themselves lucky enough to enjoy the end of the summer with him. He was good guy. Sharing was caring, and parties were always more fun when you could let loose with somebody else.
He always liked to start off mellow. Pace himeslf, you know? He hated feeling hyperactive and wild, anyways. Shit, he'd lay off drugs completely if he wanted to feel like that. He was just about to close the gate to Booker's house when he spotted his dad stumbling along as drunk as ever. "Dad," he hopped over, eyes squinting because they always squinted a little when he was high, "Hey, are you goin' home? What're you.. Lucky's still in there. But uh... if you want, I can try n' get him to leave."
If his dad thought he was gonna be able to make it in the house because of this block party, he had another thing coming. Charlie didn't wanna see him get tossed out on his ass a second time this week. Family looked out for each other, right? That's what he was doing here. He just... he wanted to believe that Rox was only trying to get in there to crash, you know? To get some sleep. He smelled like he'd been sleeping in an underpass. And if some money went missing or their beer got stolen, whatever, right? Dad was family. Fuck Lucky.
He always liked to start off mellow. Pace himeslf, you know? He hated feeling hyperactive and wild, anyways. Shit, he'd lay off drugs completely if he wanted to feel like that. He was just about to close the gate to Booker's house when he spotted his dad stumbling along as drunk as ever. "Dad," he hopped over, eyes squinting because they always squinted a little when he was high, "Hey, are you goin' home? What're you.. Lucky's still in there. But uh... if you want, I can try n' get him to leave."
If his dad thought he was gonna be able to make it in the house because of this block party, he had another thing coming. Charlie didn't wanna see him get tossed out on his ass a second time this week. Family looked out for each other, right? That's what he was doing here. He just... he wanted to believe that Rox was only trying to get in there to crash, you know? To get some sleep. He smelled like he'd been sleeping in an underpass. And if some money went missing or their beer got stolen, whatever, right? Dad was family. Fuck Lucky.
It was always a little annoying that he was suddenly number two. Okay, it was only annoying because Malik had literally no chill when it came to Charlie being around. The way he talked made it seem like he was making an ultimatum. Charlie joins the gang or gets the fuck out of their business. And that was incredibly worrying because of course he wasn't gonna let that kid join this gang. Work up debts like all the other junkies that Malik had working street corners.
That wasn't why Booker had basically taken the kid in. He was kind of like a little brother. An annoying, brain dead little brother that he maybe gave a shit about. The fuck did Malik think he was doing putting this on Bo's shoulders? The guy would never insist that Naomi join their gang so why was Chucky any different? Currently, Booker was chilling in the food truck Malik had secured for them in the best spot to attract dope heads and bored teenagers. It was inconspicuous enough with all the other vendors, but their truck had a distinguishing mark that only people who were cool would understand.
Plus, it was Booker. People knew where to go if they wanted top shelf drugs. He'd been doing this since he was a tiny motherfucker. Plus, he was just so damn charming! His buddy, Marcus, was leaning against the back of the truck, counting dollar bills from the sales they'd made from early birds. "Yo, Booker, you look too damn cheery in that apron. What's up?" So maybe Bo was stressed, but man he lived for this kind of atmosphere. And it been a while since he'd actually done something to make that boss of his pat him on the back, "The sun is shinin' and the truck smells like weed. heads up, twitchy lil meth head comin' our way." Booker leaned against the window of the food truck and cocked a brow at the guy who was way too twitchy to be buying from them, "Naw man, you gotta go to Eldrich St. for your shit. We aint sellin' what you want. Now get lost, this is a high brow establishment for the day."
He sent their typical customer off with an intimidating look and shook his head, "Can you believe these guys? I really hope they don't swarm us like tweaked out zombies." Naw, no hard shit in this food truck. Just weed and cocaine in case they had to bail or some straight edge little fucker decided to snitch. In this neighborhood, though? Not likely. They were gonna get paid well tonight.
That wasn't why Booker had basically taken the kid in. He was kind of like a little brother. An annoying, brain dead little brother that he maybe gave a shit about. The fuck did Malik think he was doing putting this on Bo's shoulders? The guy would never insist that Naomi join their gang so why was Chucky any different? Currently, Booker was chilling in the food truck Malik had secured for them in the best spot to attract dope heads and bored teenagers. It was inconspicuous enough with all the other vendors, but their truck had a distinguishing mark that only people who were cool would understand.
Plus, it was Booker. People knew where to go if they wanted top shelf drugs. He'd been doing this since he was a tiny motherfucker. Plus, he was just so damn charming! His buddy, Marcus, was leaning against the back of the truck, counting dollar bills from the sales they'd made from early birds. "Yo, Booker, you look too damn cheery in that apron. What's up?" So maybe Bo was stressed, but man he lived for this kind of atmosphere. And it been a while since he'd actually done something to make that boss of his pat him on the back, "The sun is shinin' and the truck smells like weed. heads up, twitchy lil meth head comin' our way." Booker leaned against the window of the food truck and cocked a brow at the guy who was way too twitchy to be buying from them, "Naw man, you gotta go to Eldrich St. for your shit. We aint sellin' what you want. Now get lost, this is a high brow establishment for the day."
He sent their typical customer off with an intimidating look and shook his head, "Can you believe these guys? I really hope they don't swarm us like tweaked out zombies." Naw, no hard shit in this food truck. Just weed and cocaine in case they had to bail or some straight edge little fucker decided to snitch. In this neighborhood, though? Not likely. They were gonna get paid well tonight.
dimensional
thor's favorite
- wrong way -
mention: Lucky, Booker
interaction: Charlie
tags:
atomic
interaction: Charlie
tags:
atomic
"Hello, good son. You know what you can do for me?" he asked, slurring with his speech. "You can make sure Lucifer isn't inside when I'm inside. Get him to go to that block party, tell him some guy is waiting for him." God knew Rox wasn't exactly keen on Lucky being gay, but it was convenient that he was gay and single. That's like being thirsty and near a mirage--any bit of water was gonna look like a good drink. "Tell him that Frye boy called him a girl again, or something like that. Then, when the coast is clear, get me inside. I just wanna shower, shit, and shave in comfort." He was lying about that, but with a quick whiff of himself, he decided to make that a truth. Being happier than a pig in shit didn't mean you had to smell like one.
atomic
𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒. 𝒶𝒽𝒶𝒽𝒶. 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀.
CHARLIE MCGEE
OH, ALL MY HOPES ARE . . .
UP ON THE CEILING . . .
AND ALL MY FREINDS ARE HIGH AND . . .
I CAN'T KEEP UP . . .
Charlie lifted his brows when his dad had a little assignment for him. He wasn't a total moron even if he was a little brain damaged from the drugs. He knew his dad used him and probably didn't care too much about him, either way. None of his family really gave a shit about him. And that was fine since he'd been the one to stop giving a shit about them, first.
But even if Charlie knew his dad was using him, he'd decided a while ago that he was okay with it. As long as Rox knew who the good kid was when push came to shove. It wasn't Lucky or Kris. It wasn't Lydia. It was him. So he paid attention and opened his mouth when his dad bought up Booker. Wha- Why the hell should Lucky care if Bo called him a girl? His dad really was hammered, huh? All the more reason he had to get Lucky out of the house, so squeezed his dad's shoulder, "One shower, shit, and shave coming right up, dad. Just wait here and watch me work some puppet master bullshit. Well, actually, piss off. Don't let Luck, see ya."
He was grinning now, knowing just what to tell Lucky to get that guy out looking for Bo. Admittedly, setting lucky after Bo was a pretty good way to get his older brother out of the house. That guy had a one-track mind when it came to Frye, and it was only a matter of time before he lost it. But in this case, he had to hide a little bit of the guilt for involving Booker in this whole thing but the guy could take a punch. Booker loved to fight anyways. It'd be fine.
He pushed through the door, high as a kite, and looked for his older brother. When he found him, he looked annoyed and pretty troubled. He'd done drama his freshman and sophomore year. Hell, he'd really liked it, but he decided he liked drugs more, and eventually the motivation to go to practice wasn't there anymore. In this case, though, it was easy to come up with a lie because it had some truth to it. "Fuck, there you are. Look, usually, I wouldn't give a shit about this... Because you're a prick. But I thought you should know that Bo's been using your name at the block party to sell his dope. Kris told me. I think he's been dealing to her, too. Look, I don't want her.. to end up," he paused, looking legitimately troubled for a second before gesturing at all of himself.
It was true. He didn't want Kris to end up like him. He knew she was getting worse. Fuck man, just last year he caught the girl in the park half naked with some random dickhead. In any case, this story was believable enough to get Lucky going. "He's workin' a job for Malik, right now. In that sketchy ass food truck. But look man, don't start any trouble. Malik'll have his ass if ya mess up the job. Right? I just thought you should know."
But even if Charlie knew his dad was using him, he'd decided a while ago that he was okay with it. As long as Rox knew who the good kid was when push came to shove. It wasn't Lucky or Kris. It wasn't Lydia. It was him. So he paid attention and opened his mouth when his dad bought up Booker. Wha- Why the hell should Lucky care if Bo called him a girl? His dad really was hammered, huh? All the more reason he had to get Lucky out of the house, so squeezed his dad's shoulder, "One shower, shit, and shave coming right up, dad. Just wait here and watch me work some puppet master bullshit. Well, actually, piss off. Don't let Luck, see ya."
He was grinning now, knowing just what to tell Lucky to get that guy out looking for Bo. Admittedly, setting lucky after Bo was a pretty good way to get his older brother out of the house. That guy had a one-track mind when it came to Frye, and it was only a matter of time before he lost it. But in this case, he had to hide a little bit of the guilt for involving Booker in this whole thing but the guy could take a punch. Booker loved to fight anyways. It'd be fine.
He pushed through the door, high as a kite, and looked for his older brother. When he found him, he looked annoyed and pretty troubled. He'd done drama his freshman and sophomore year. Hell, he'd really liked it, but he decided he liked drugs more, and eventually the motivation to go to practice wasn't there anymore. In this case, though, it was easy to come up with a lie because it had some truth to it. "Fuck, there you are. Look, usually, I wouldn't give a shit about this... Because you're a prick. But I thought you should know that Bo's been using your name at the block party to sell his dope. Kris told me. I think he's been dealing to her, too. Look, I don't want her.. to end up," he paused, looking legitimately troubled for a second before gesturing at all of himself.
It was true. He didn't want Kris to end up like him. He knew she was getting worse. Fuck man, just last year he caught the girl in the park half naked with some random dickhead. In any case, this story was believable enough to get Lucky going. "He's workin' a job for Malik, right now. In that sketchy ass food truck. But look man, don't start any trouble. Malik'll have his ass if ya mess up the job. Right? I just thought you should know."
dimensional
thor's favorite
- sucker -
He didn't give a damn that Malik would lose out on the venue. He didn't give a rats ass about the fact that he was causing a scene. After a few minutes of thinking it out, Lucky finally made it to the damn food truck with 3 red lines on the license plate. Even an idiot like Rox would be able to find that, although you couldn't tell Mal or Bo any of that shit. Lucky opened the back end and dragged Bo out in the most ungraceful manner. He threw him against the asphalt, landing on top of him and landing blows in an enraged manner. Bo was getting a taste of the hateful passion the man kept locked away. If he was doing this for no reason, there was a one-two combo with Charlie's name on it.
erzulie
cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul
Malik was honestly enjoying himself. The block party was in full swing and there was a never ending supply of drink and drugs. Though Malik had made it a goal to not get fucked up. Despite selling the stuff he only smoked feed once in a while, he didn’t like being high or drunk like some. Malik was currently talking to one of the cops on his payroll. He’d made sure a few of them were out tonight just in case shit went down. It didn’t want to be caught slipping after only just coming back. After his little chat Malik walked around for a while, talking to some business associates and contacts along the way. Money was rolling and life was good.
Now Malik had planned on coming out to enjoy himself but there was work to be done as well. He headed over to the food trunk. He had to hand it to Booker, it was a good idea. As he drew nearer he noticed a crowd gathering and the sounds of taunts and jeers. Malik knew what that meant immediately and he was off. His suspicions were confirmed when the crowd parted like the Red Sea. The image before him caused him to see red and in a few strides he reached the pair. With all of his strength Malik grabbed Lucifer and flung him off of Booker. Malik looked his second in command over for a moment before he was on Lucifer blow after blow was reigned on the older man, Malik used all the strength that he’d gained from his time in Juvie.
Now he was pissed, he stood up and began kicking the man. “What the fuck?!” He all but growled. It was then that he looked up at his members who’d gathered. With a simple nod they began approaching Lucifer with malice in their eyes. Malik was planning on making an example out of him today.
code by Ri.a
Last edited:
FireMaiden
Grade A Bitch
Location: James Residence - Out Front
Interaction: Open
Mentioned:
dimensional
atomic
erzulie
"Look, I know it's a long drive for you, but I don't have anywhere to stay tonight, can you please just come drop them off? I'll even give you gas money!" It wasn't often that Leliana forgot something important, however, when she did it was normally when she left her house keys sitting on the counter down at Moe's Motel. Like today for example, when she had to rush in order to catch her bus, and didn't grab them. Normally she could just go back and get them, if she realizes soon enough, and its her normal bus driver, but nope. The universe decided to crap all over her day, but she just hoped that her manager was gonna be nice. Breifly, Leliana's hopes had sunk when she heard a dejected sigh.
"I...fine, I'll bring you your keys, it's gonna be ablut an hour though." Her manager, a woman named Michelle, didn't sound thrilled, but she had a daughter the same age as Leliana which may have helped sway her into helping the teen out. Leliana smiled, thanking her profusely as the bus came to a stop at the top of her street, Leliana havibg to hang up as she got off. She didn't like the idea of hanging out in her work clothes, a pink short sleeved dress that had a white collar, Moe's Motel and her name were embroidered on the right side. it was a little stuffy, since the fabrix wasn't the most comfortable thing on earth, but at least it wasn't her waitressing uniform. Anyway, as she walked down the street, she could tell something was going on. A lot of people were out on the street, she could see food trucks, there was music...Leliana sighed. She remebered something about a block party, but she didn't exactly know anyone around here to well to warrant hanging out with them.
And for good reason. Most of the people around here were crazy, and maybe a little dangerous. Not that they weee bad people per say, but they weren't really the type she got along with. Befriending Charlie was even a bit of a surprise to her, and his family was part of that dangerous but not necessarily bad people category. Charlie himself was in that category, mainly just for falling in with Malik's crowd, but Charlie wasn't dumb. And he clukd handle himself, so long as he didn't go overboard, Leliana wasn't going to pester him about it too much. Hopefully that guy was staying in prsion, or juvie, or whatever it what Malik was in. Speak of the devil.
She had to cross the street in order to get to her house, however, there was a crowd gathered infront of one of the food trucks. Leliana sighed heavily through her nose, pushing her way through just in time to watch Malik, who she was a littke surprised to see, pull Charlie's older brother off the guy Charlie liked to hang out with most of the time. Of course, she figured that a fight would happen at some time today, though she was expecting it to be later, and when she was in her house. Since it probably wasn't safe for her to try an hurry across the street trough the little arena, and nobody was going to let her sneak back through the crowd, Leliana was practically forced to stand there and watch what happens.
atomic
𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒. 𝒶𝒽𝒶𝒽𝒶. 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀.
BOOKER FRYE . . .
I GOT SUNSHINE IN MY MIND . . .
WAKE UP AND I SAY . . .
BABY, I'M A LOSER, YEAH YEAH YEAH
JUST LIKE YOU, JUST LIKE YOU . . .
.coding by
atomic
Booker was hardly expecting to get in a fight today. Because what the hell, right? Who would have thought today was a fighting kind of day when everybody was having fun and minding their own business? The food truck was making quite a lot of money all things considered. Marcus wasn’t great company, but Bo liked him enough. He talked about sex a lot. Girls.
Bo knew how to talk about girls, too. He’d been in a few relationships with them actually, but they never lasted. There were only so many flaccid dicks during sex one guy could have before a girl took a hint. But he was quick to blame it on their shortcomings like a classic asshole. ‘You’re annoying.’ ‘Your tits are too small.’ ‘I’d rather fuck a cactus.’ You know, just some easy insults that would end in a nasty breakup or whatever else.
But in this case, Bo played the womanizing hot shot that he was known as, grinning and laughing when he was supposed to at Marcus’ stories. He wasn’t prepared for the suddenness of the truck doors flying open. He was even less prepared for hands to pull him out and sock him square in the face. “Son of bitch!” Booker was also known for his hot head and violent tendencies, but this was fuckin’ uncalled for!
He growled, only just making out the shape and image of his fuckin’ neighbor between the many fists that caused his eyes to go blurry. “The fuck is wrong with you!?” He shouted, instinctively making a grab for this guy’s bitch hair to give it a good yank while his other hand attempted to hide his face. Shit shit shit. This was not a great position to be in with his head already buzzing and his vision going out from the spychopath on top of him.
And then it was gone. The weight. The pain. The fists and mindless punches. Booker let his head fall back on the floor with a heavy breath. His heart was pounding in his chest. His skin was itching for a head served to him on a silver fucking platter. That bitch better not think he was gonna step on him like that, walk away, and not get what was coming to him. What was Lucky’s problem, anyways?! When he came back to, his head fell to the side. Brows lifted, the man let out a little breath, “Huh”
Malik was kicking the shit out of Lucky. Good. Good friend, Malik was. What a great guy. Kick his ass, man. Wait. Fuck that... that fucker’s mine. Booker was off the floor like a grade A champ in no time, wiping the blood and spit from his chin with a wild look in his eye. It certainly wasn’t a reassuring expression. Too crazed and calculated for that. Bo rolled his neck and stalked up to where his boss was eyeing the oldest McGee kid like a slab of meat.
“He’s mine,” the thug growled, patting Malik’s chest and spitting some more blood on Lucky’s future corpse. He wasn’t sure when Kris had gotten there but he was sure to snarl and jump back from the drink before taking a threatening step in her direction, “Fuck off, Princess. He started this. I’mma finish it. Lucinda! Get the fuck off the floor! We gonna dance or what?”
He grabbed the man’s shirt, and pulled him up roughly only to then slam the guy’s gut right back down into his knee. He’d been waiting to have this fight for a while. It’d be fun. Bo went into it prepared this time, ducking and blocking. Swinging his own fists. Some landed. Some didn’t. Bo didn’t care as he watched the other, intensely. He was breathing hard and feeling good. This guy. What was his problem? Knew just how to get under Bo’s skin and had ever since he moved into that shitty house. Hell if he knew why this guy frustrated him so damn much. But when he was frustrated and angry, what better way was there to get rid of that than with a nasty fight? One with blood.
Bo knew how to talk about girls, too. He’d been in a few relationships with them actually, but they never lasted. There were only so many flaccid dicks during sex one guy could have before a girl took a hint. But he was quick to blame it on their shortcomings like a classic asshole. ‘You’re annoying.’ ‘Your tits are too small.’ ‘I’d rather fuck a cactus.’ You know, just some easy insults that would end in a nasty breakup or whatever else.
But in this case, Bo played the womanizing hot shot that he was known as, grinning and laughing when he was supposed to at Marcus’ stories. He wasn’t prepared for the suddenness of the truck doors flying open. He was even less prepared for hands to pull him out and sock him square in the face. “Son of bitch!” Booker was also known for his hot head and violent tendencies, but this was fuckin’ uncalled for!
He growled, only just making out the shape and image of his fuckin’ neighbor between the many fists that caused his eyes to go blurry. “The fuck is wrong with you!?” He shouted, instinctively making a grab for this guy’s bitch hair to give it a good yank while his other hand attempted to hide his face. Shit shit shit. This was not a great position to be in with his head already buzzing and his vision going out from the spychopath on top of him.
And then it was gone. The weight. The pain. The fists and mindless punches. Booker let his head fall back on the floor with a heavy breath. His heart was pounding in his chest. His skin was itching for a head served to him on a silver fucking platter. That bitch better not think he was gonna step on him like that, walk away, and not get what was coming to him. What was Lucky’s problem, anyways?! When he came back to, his head fell to the side. Brows lifted, the man let out a little breath, “Huh”
Malik was kicking the shit out of Lucky. Good. Good friend, Malik was. What a great guy. Kick his ass, man. Wait. Fuck that... that fucker’s mine. Booker was off the floor like a grade A champ in no time, wiping the blood and spit from his chin with a wild look in his eye. It certainly wasn’t a reassuring expression. Too crazed and calculated for that. Bo rolled his neck and stalked up to where his boss was eyeing the oldest McGee kid like a slab of meat.
“He’s mine,” the thug growled, patting Malik’s chest and spitting some more blood on Lucky’s future corpse. He wasn’t sure when Kris had gotten there but he was sure to snarl and jump back from the drink before taking a threatening step in her direction, “Fuck off, Princess. He started this. I’mma finish it. Lucinda! Get the fuck off the floor! We gonna dance or what?”
He grabbed the man’s shirt, and pulled him up roughly only to then slam the guy’s gut right back down into his knee. He’d been waiting to have this fight for a while. It’d be fun. Bo went into it prepared this time, ducking and blocking. Swinging his own fists. Some landed. Some didn’t. Bo didn’t care as he watched the other, intensely. He was breathing hard and feeling good. This guy. What was his problem? Knew just how to get under Bo’s skin and had ever since he moved into that shitty house. Hell if he knew why this guy frustrated him so damn much. But when he was frustrated and angry, what better way was there to get rid of that than with a nasty fight? One with blood.
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