Post by aiden emerson on Dec 9, 2019 5:52:09 GMT
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[attr="class","a1lyric"]i got nothing but dreams inside[break]
i got nothing but dreams
i got nothing but dreams
[attr="class","a1lyric2"]i'm just young enough to still believe, still believe
[break]young enough not to know what to believe
[break]young enough not to know what to believe
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Aiden, a surprisingly good boy when it came to not stealing Granma’s schnapps, couldn’t help keep the surprise out of his voice or expression. “You’ve been drunk? And you’ve never told me how it went?!” His lips pulled back into a small grin, not quite able to picture his gentle friend drunkly dancing in a club. Had he missed the wrong party? That had probably been his bad. He usually let Charani know he wouldn’t be attending things if they happened to be going ot the same event anyway. If only as a heads up to stay in or find something else to do. Before the whole, dream debacle thing anyway. [break][break]
He wasn’t sure how he’d be as drunk. From what he knew, it was clear he would need a ton of fruit juice or chaser to actually…stand alcohol. His tolerance was supposedly high too, if his grandparents were anyway to judge. Allegedly. No one had ever spoken to him of his mother or father drunk, Amelia because she probably kept that shit locked down tight. And Cedric?? Well, let’s just say Marjorie and Wilhelm barely spoke of him by name, much less any funny little trivia like ‘how he acted when inebriated’. Whatever the case, he didn’t particularly care for alcohol anyway. Made him easier to take in a fight. He had heard about cool drunk fighting styles that existed somewhere in Salem though… Almost as if aggro’d, Aiden’s head snapped towards the funnel cake, fresh, warm, caked in powder sugar, heavenly, and snaps his jaws shut on a large piece before carefully ripping it off. Sugar fluttered to the ground and bit more on his shirt. He could clean that later. Undeterred, he chewed slowly ending up looking like a chubby bunny as he tried not to drop any of the cake. [break][break]
“S’good.” He mumbled, trying not to open his mouth for Charani to see. Though his words were quiet, his eyes were filled to the brim with joy. A fat kid at heart. He munched slowly, trying not to hurt himself in the process or drool in front of his friend. He nodded quickly to show he understood before remembering they probably still had that weird telepathy going. He tugged at it for a moment before pushing out into the ether, ‘The rave part is there at the end right…? Know anyone that can get us in past some bouncers?’ He figured, with good reason after the whole display in front of Marjorie, that if anyone had friends in high places it was Charani. Either him or his sister probably got along great with other elite kids their age. Aiden was still a little too rough around the edges to play nice. He had some…incident under his belt from earlier in the year. Maybe a broken nose on someone else’s part. But you know! He’d apologized for it? People had seemed appeased when his grandparents blamed it on his mixed blood. It was fine though. He wasn’t bitter about it or anything. As they rejoined the flow of people, artisan’s seemed to have died down on their advertising, as everyone got ready to view the performance whether it was up close or on the screens that were slowly flickering to focus on the concert.
[break][break]
Aiden, a surprisingly good boy when it came to not stealing Granma’s schnapps, couldn’t help keep the surprise out of his voice or expression. “You’ve been drunk? And you’ve never told me how it went?!” His lips pulled back into a small grin, not quite able to picture his gentle friend drunkly dancing in a club. Had he missed the wrong party? That had probably been his bad. He usually let Charani know he wouldn’t be attending things if they happened to be going ot the same event anyway. If only as a heads up to stay in or find something else to do. Before the whole, dream debacle thing anyway. [break][break]
He wasn’t sure how he’d be as drunk. From what he knew, it was clear he would need a ton of fruit juice or chaser to actually…stand alcohol. His tolerance was supposedly high too, if his grandparents were anyway to judge. Allegedly. No one had ever spoken to him of his mother or father drunk, Amelia because she probably kept that shit locked down tight. And Cedric?? Well, let’s just say Marjorie and Wilhelm barely spoke of him by name, much less any funny little trivia like ‘how he acted when inebriated’. Whatever the case, he didn’t particularly care for alcohol anyway. Made him easier to take in a fight. He had heard about cool drunk fighting styles that existed somewhere in Salem though… Almost as if aggro’d, Aiden’s head snapped towards the funnel cake, fresh, warm, caked in powder sugar, heavenly, and snaps his jaws shut on a large piece before carefully ripping it off. Sugar fluttered to the ground and bit more on his shirt. He could clean that later. Undeterred, he chewed slowly ending up looking like a chubby bunny as he tried not to drop any of the cake. [break][break]
“S’good.” He mumbled, trying not to open his mouth for Charani to see. Though his words were quiet, his eyes were filled to the brim with joy. A fat kid at heart. He munched slowly, trying not to hurt himself in the process or drool in front of his friend. He nodded quickly to show he understood before remembering they probably still had that weird telepathy going. He tugged at it for a moment before pushing out into the ether, ‘The rave part is there at the end right…? Know anyone that can get us in past some bouncers?’ He figured, with good reason after the whole display in front of Marjorie, that if anyone had friends in high places it was Charani. Either him or his sister probably got along great with other elite kids their age. Aiden was still a little too rough around the edges to play nice. He had some…incident under his belt from earlier in the year. Maybe a broken nose on someone else’s part. But you know! He’d apologized for it? People had seemed appeased when his grandparents blamed it on his mixed blood. It was fine though. He wasn’t bitter about it or anything. As they rejoined the flow of people, artisan’s seemed to have died down on their advertising, as everyone got ready to view the performance whether it was up close or on the screens that were slowly flickering to focus on the concert.
[break][break]
[attr="class","a1notes"] Charani Petrov no homo in the club-o