Rag-A-Muffin
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A painting is worth a thousand words; I have so much to say, but never do. What's wrong with me?
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Post by Edward Trylon II on Aug 10, 2017 2:10:11 GMT -6
Why did he do this!? Well, he finished all his work, turned it in, he had done all he could do and his inspiration to draw had faded, it would've eventually but he didn't think it would've gone so quickly! Edward sighed, he really had nothing to do, so he sighed and went into the "Devils eye" the best of the best of all places, and this wasn't his cup of tea at all! He guessed he could try getting out of his comfort zone? Or maybe he was doing that because he didn't want to remain an anit - social outcast for the rest of his life? Probably a mix between the former and alter.
He sat at a table and just had a not - so alcoholic beverage, he was the type of guy who liked being sober than anything else, or that's what he guessed.
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Rag-A-Muffin
23
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Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned
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Post by Harley Quinn on Aug 10, 2017 13:56:24 GMT -6
Harley looked sluttish and she delighted in the knowledge. She had checked the mirror carefully before leaving her apartment. Now, walking the street with her handbag bouncing against her swinging hip, she could feel the heat within her flesh building. She also felt the eyes of the men she passed, men who sat on steps or lingered in doorways, men walking with purpose who stopped for a glance in her direction.
She passed the location of a couple hidden bars before finding the speakeasy she wanted, the Spread Eagle. The interior was dimly lit and she walked bravely into the room. There were several empty tables along the wall but she passed them by, walking her swivel-hipped walk to the bar and taking a stool at the far end.
The bartender gave her a few minutes to decide on a drink, then strolled over. “What’ll it be, sugar?”
“I’ll have a medium dry Vodka Martini, with lemon peel” she said.
As Harley rummaged through the contents of her handbag in search of her purse, the bartended set to work mixing up her drink. He placed the Martini on the bar in front of her, took her money, returned with her change. She looked at her drink, then at her reflection in the back bar mirror.
Men were watching her again. She was acutely aware of the attention she attracted in an outfit explicitly chosen to illicit their sexual desire. Yet it often seemed that she could cloak herself in a nuns garb and the result would be the same. Men’s eyes would lift the black skirts and strip away the veil. Generally Harley would shy away from the leering eyes, but not tonight. No. Tonight she relished those glances. She fed on the heat in those eyes, and the fire within herself burned hotter in response. Blood was singing in her veins.
She raised her glass, sipped her drink. The taste of the Martini was at once warm and cold upon her lips and tongue. She swallowed, sipped again.
“That a Martini?”
A small man, heavyset, balding and tanned, with a dusting of freckles across his high forehead from sun damage had appeared at her side. He wore a crisp white shirt open at the throat, and his dark chest hair was beginning to go grey. She flicked her eyes in his direction while continuing to face forward.
“Finish that drink and let me buy you another.” She turned now, looked him in the eyes. He had beady eyes. Their whites showed a slight trace of red veins at their outer corners. The irises were a very dark brown, and the black pupils, hugely dilated.
“I don’t want your company,” she said.
“Hey, at least give me a chance?” He was grinning, but there was no humour in it. “I bet you’d love my company.”
“Please leave me alone.”
He got up from his stool and took a half step away before saying, “If you want to be alone then why don’t you just buy a bottle and take it home with you! You can take it to bed and suck on it, honey.” He gave her a petulant looking glare and a curled lip, before finally walking away.
Well he had successfully ruined that bar for her. Harley collected herself and walked out. After ambling a couple of blocks she found a second speakeasy, this one was called the Devil’s Eye and was virtually indistinguishable from the first. Perhaps the lighting was a little softer, the background music the slightest bit lower in pitch. Again she seated herself at the bar and ordered a medium dry Vodka Martini.
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Rag-A-Muffin
15
posts
3
likes
A painting is worth a thousand words; I have so much to say, but never do. What's wrong with me?
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Post by Edward Trylon II on Aug 15, 2017 0:34:45 GMT -6
Edward sighed and continued drinking another drink, which was some more intense liquor. But than as he was drinking some couple who were.. uhm... Making out! And he could literally hear them making sounds and what - not, he turned strawberry red, covered his face with one hand and the other one holding the liquor, all he could do, he just wasn't use to such "intense PDA" in front of his face, "Uhm.. uh - I - um should - uh.. g - go...." He said with a nervous laugh as he took his drink and walked away...
Well, that was... Odd...
He thought hastily as he sat next on a seat that was right where the bar was, Atleast he wasn't in his previous "PDA display corner", Edward just laughed lightly, trying his best to brush or that display out of his memory, either they were REALLY in love or extremely intoxicated, maybe a one night stand? But why in a bar?
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Rag-A-Muffin
23
posts
5
likes
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned
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Post by Harley Quinn on Aug 16, 2017 1:23:41 GMT -6
Harley was intensely aware of the couple behind her at a corner table that just happened to be in the shadows and away from most of the other customers. She didn’t have to look at them to know they were fooling around. Feeling a terrible stab of jealousy at their blatant display of drunken love and affection she was suddenly overcome with loneliness. It was like being immersed in a long cold comber of surf. God, she thought, this is Harleen. I don’t want Louis back … well, I do, but I know You can’t do that. Only give me the strength to bear this, okay? And I wonder if maybe … I don’t know if this is blasphemy or not, probably it is, but I wonder if You could let him talk to me one more time. Let him touch me one more time maybe. At the thought of it—his fingers on her skin in the sunshine—she took a deep, shaky breath. Thank you. She laughed weakly. Amen.
She opened her eyes the same moment that a very flustered man stumbled over to the bar. She studied him out of the corner of her eye. He was tall and lean, and had a sense of considerable awkwardness. She wanted to turn, to look directly into his eyes, but instead she raised her glass to her lips then said, “Couldn’t stand the heat back there eh?"
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Rag-A-Muffin
15
posts
3
likes
A painting is worth a thousand words; I have so much to say, but never do. What's wrong with me?
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Post by Edward Trylon II on Aug 16, 2017 1:58:56 GMT -6
“Couldn’t stand the heat back there eh?"
Just as he heard that, he just looked over to the female who said it, she seemed "nice", he just thought innocently, what was the harm? He just forced himself to socialize, come on Edward! You don't have to be some anti - social outcast ALL your life! Talk.... Talk... Just talk to her! Edward had a slight pause to think and brush those words off, he really wasn't use to that, he didn't have too much against it but he just didn't know how to handle it, per say.
"I... Guess not, well, I'm not use to it... uhm...."
He just stopped himself because if he continued, he'd be stuttering his heart out, and that wasn't really a good thing, he didn't know why he was just so nervous, his family not giving him the best when it came to his self esteem sure didn't help.
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Rag-A-Muffin
23
posts
5
likes
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned
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Post by Harley Quinn on Aug 16, 2017 8:06:36 GMT -6
He was so nervous just to talk to her. Then again, maybe some men always get nervous when talking to women, just as some actors always feel anxious before they step onstage. "You don't strike me as a person who comes into these places much. What's your drink?" She asked, her voice showing only casual interest anything more and his head might explode.
When Harley was thinking, she always looked for complete bodily relaxation, propping herself against something or sprawling all over a chair. The fact she was at a bar did not stop her from doing this. She placed an elbow on the bar, her hand propping up her chin, and she sidled around swinging her feet up onto the empty stool between them. "What's the wildest thing you've done?" She crossed her ankles.
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