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Post by Eric Henry Jacobs on Feb 13, 2013 13:21:56 GMT -5
“Ahh, the silver lining, thanks. Here I was thinking I was doomed to feel every tear of flesh as the zombies ate their fifth midnight snack,” Eric said, sounding as bland as he possibly could. It didn’t seem to matter how a conversation started with almost any of the bunch from the club, it almost always ended with zombies. Eric didn’t mind it since they usually came up with ridiculous yet completely plausible plans should a zombie apocalypse actually happen. Murdering friends for the sake of not having to deal with the feeling of being eaten alive was acceptable, understandable and even a thoughtful gesture. If anyone else were to overhear their conversations, they’d probably call the nice people with the butterfly nets.
Where people told Will of her temper, people were telling Eric how he’d better grow a backbone. But those same people didn’t know exactly who his parents were; especially his father. The Jacobs brood might be nice and sweet but they were hardly pushovers. He could fire a gun, quite a few of them since his father used to take them all down to the range to practice. He had a permit to carry and kept a basic nine millimetre in the side table by his bed. He trusted people, and though he loved New York, he knew better. Eric was already raised to be safe not sorry. No one knew of the piece he kept hidden, out of harm’s way. Why would he tell them? He didn’t actually carry it around the city and when his temper got the better of him, he hit up a range and borrowed a gun from their racks. Plus, he didn’t want his friend’s knowing he had it, he didn’t want to get the disapproving looks. It wasn’t like he used it, or even hit the range often; usually only when his father visited which was rare enough.
Eric knew they were talking about Halloween, or had been, but for the life of him, he had no idea where the conversation had gotten to. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said carefully, unable to remember what exactly he should be remembering later. It didn’t matter really; the chances of Will remembering this conversation in an hour was slim to none, having her remember it months from this moment was even less likely. Eric rolled his eyes at the tiny girl next to him. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure how Will was comfortable lounging around on the floor. But then, he also wasn’t drunk and in need of a cool surface for his alcohol induced fever. “Again, my mother would be so proud,” he said quietly this time. He drained the rest of the coffee in his cup, trying to reach to set it up on the counter but couldn’t get enough reach to put it there, so settled for the ground next to the empty plate. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty, let’s get you to bed. Want the couch, the bed or the bathroom floor?” he asked, shaking Will’s shoulder lightly so she wouldn’t pass out on the floor wrapped around his leg.
Tag || Will!! Words || 530 Clothes || Best Dressed! Music || Feel Like a Rock Star by Kenny Chesney Notes || <3
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Post by Willow-Jae Dakota Holt on Feb 25, 2013 16:28:08 GMT -5
“I’m sure I’d find a bullet spare to use on you.”
[/color] Anyone overhearing such a phrase would probably worry for Eric’s safety when in fact Willow was making a rather sweet gesture. The way she saw it, a bullet to the head was quicker and painless compared to the brutal massacre at the hands of the zombie hoards who would be too far gone to consider more humane ways of capturing their dinner. She had drunk too much to worry about anyone overhearing and unless Eric had people hiding in his kitchen cupboards, there was no one around to make her think of such a thing. Willow didn’t share very much with the people of New York. Her friends knew that she was from Mojave and that she could fix cars before she moved to the city for college, but that was about it. She didn’t talk about her past for a number of reasons and she didn’t need people panicking over what she might do next. Her past was behind her for a reason and while she didn’t doubt that she was capable of falling back into bad habits and nasty ways, she liked to believe that she was stronger now; she didn’t need to hurt people or run from her grief. For a tiny girl, she did have a massive temper, but she tried to channel it into positive outlets, whether they were focused in the college garage or in a gym where she could control her anger into a healthy sport. Then again, there was a sealed file from long ago that held more than enough proof that Will didn’t need a weapon to injure someone. The good thing was that, these days, she had her friends from Gotham, school and the guys she lived with to keep her from falling into some shadowy place that could ruin everything she had worked hard to achieve since she had made those mistakes. They may not know it, and Will had no intention of telling them this, but they were the reason she had stayed afloat in the city that wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows. Whenever she had been on a night out, enjoying her youth and giving her body a reason to hate her in the morning, Will often ended up talking about unimportant things that she couldn’t remember one minute to the next; it was usually a lot worse when the company she was in shared the same intoxicated state. At least with Eric being sober there weren’t two entirely different conversations being skipped between until one of them reached the point of total confusion. Right now, she didn’t care what the conversation was about since she was comfortable, the ringing in her ears was fading enough to relax and she had been fed. If there was a literal checklist of things a drunk girl needed, they were probably mostly covered right about now. Still, she pulled a face when Eric shook her shoulder and mentioned moving. She was much too comfortable in the position she was in for that! “Bed.”[/color] She stated, though made little effort to actually move. If she had been a little more sober she’d be proud of this forward planning; Will could sleep pretty much anywhere after a number of drinks, but if she woke up anywhere but a bed it only threw her into a foul and hung-over mood. At least with a bed she could be a little more tolerable when the sun came up and the pounding in her head accompanied it. [/blockquote][/blockquote][/size][/justify] • • • TAGGED! Eric! WORDS! 629 OUTFIT! Casual Mess LYRICS! In Fate’s Hand - - - Red Jumpsuit Apparatus NOTES! <3
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Post by Eric Henry Jacobs on Mar 1, 2013 14:03:52 GMT -5
Eric grinned, shaking his head. “And I’ll keep a spare for you, too,” he said back. The pair had the weirdest conversations and the most random of times, but to them they made perfect sense. It was the people overhearing them that had their heads whipping around from shock of thinking they overheard something serious. Tonight there was no one around to overhear the wrong part and assume the worst of the pair. But there were other times when they weren’t so lucky and people were stopping them to ask questions while they just stared and laughed like hyenas. That had happened too many times, but every time it did happen, it brought only laughter to Eric as he shook his head and tried in vain to explain the situation. Sometimes, he thought it might be better to just say “zombie apocalypse” and let them take from that what they want.
Eric got along a lot better with the group from the comedy club than he did nearly anyone else. He would rather tackle his classes alone or with one of two classmates in projects and study sessions than with more than that. He honestly didn’t think half the students in his class should have been there. They were the ones in college just to have four years away from home to party without any parents around to yell at them for it. He moved to New York to study at a good school, not party until dawn every day and go to class with dark shades and a hood up like all the other kids with the telltale signs or hangovers. He’d seen his professor’s too many times play games with those students because they showed up still drunk. But the group at the comedy club were fun; they joked around and almost never had a serious conversation, aside from Cal and his jumping around about the babies. Eric had to admit, they were cute kids. Shaking his head at Will now, Eric tried to figure out a way to get them both up and to the room without much complaint.
By the time he managed to get untangled from Will and up on his own feet, he wasn’t entirely sure if she was still awake or if she was asleep on her feet when he pulled her up. Not bothering to find out, Eric hooked his arm under her knees and fixed her position in his arms so he would be able to carry her down the hall. “Don’t complain,” he said, pre-emptively, knowing Will would have some sort of objection to what he was doing despite not being able to find her feet under her. Treble followed closely behind the pair, wanting his own bed in the corner of the bedroom over the oversized pillow in the living room. Eric wished he’d had the forethought of running down the hall to make sure the door was open before carting Will along with him but he hadn’t thought that far ahead and the door was closed. It took a little maneuvering but he got the door open and inside the cosy room. He set her down on the side of the bed, tossing the blankets over her. Satisfied that she wouldn’t be falling off the side of the bed anytime soon, he turned and shut the door, leaving it open just a crack, enough if Will needed to find her way out through the night. Tired himself, Eric yawned into his hand as he moved across the room and curled up on the opposite side, his head hitting the pillow and the world falling away.
Tag || Will!! Words || 607 Clothes || Best Dressed! Music || Feel Like a Rock Star by Kenny Chesney Notes || <3
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Post by Willow-Jae Dakota Holt on Mar 3, 2013 20:50:16 GMT -5
For most people, offering to shoot someone wasn’t exactly an endearing offer that symbolised friendship or trust, but then Will hadn’t been ‘most people’ in a very long time. She saw the eye rolls and the head shakes that these conversations of the zombie apocalypse earned her and her friends, but Willow didn’t care when they passed the time and kept the group on their toes with bizarre plans and ideas that they would probably never get around to putting to practice. It seemed like Eric seemed to entertain the ideas longer than most and even continue them while the rest of the world moved on around them and customers ordered drinks and bar snacks. Sometimes the remarks from strangers annoyed the tiny brunette, but she was getting much better at biting her lip and keeping quiet, even if it did leave her with the metallic taste of blood for a few seconds afterwards; it was better than losing her job or getting charges pressed against her and a nice visit from the boys in blue. “See; signs of real friendship in the dying days of humanity.”
[/color] She slurred, barely sure if her words were even making sense anymore, not that she cared. She was drunk now and if there was a night when she didn’t have a shift or work to do and friends were out, Will wouldn’t turn down an invitation to hit a bar or club for a few hours. She didn’t see herself as some party girl in skimpy outfits, following some random guy home and waking up with regrets and tattered dignity. She had grown out of the wild child phase a long time ago and had been ten times worse than what she was now. New York had been the chance for a fresh start, a promising future and the opportunity for a clean slate with people who weren’t already criticising her. Willow wasn’t stupid enough to blow it. She might only have a future of fixing engines and repairing oil leaks, but she wasn’t dumb; she had gotten into NYU, had street smarts and could look after herself. She just didn’t want the high profile career and the stresses that came with it. Will had been through enough to know that simplicity and control over her own actions and dreams was plenty to keep her happy, even if she didn’t make millions or have a luxurious lifestyle. As soon as her feet left the floor Willow was ready to say something and then act upon it, but Eric beat her to it and she was far too sleepy right now to really argue back. “Take this I-owe-you for one ass kicking.”[/color] She lazily mumbled, swatting pathetically at his chest. Now that she was fed, had coffee and was comfy, Willow was finally at the most peaceful and calm level she could ever be found. Once the blankets were over her, she snuggled about a little more, spreading out her limbs slightly. It wouldn’t be too much of a problem though; Willow was barely five feet tall, so even sprawled out she took up little room. She was a deep sleeper, but often hung close to the edge of the bed with a leg dangling precariously from the sheets. It was exactly in this position that she woke up, blinking to get her bearings as the fuzzy memories of turning up at Eric’s filled her mind and stopped her from screaming kidnapping or anything else absurd. Surprisingly, the ache in her head was minimal and most of her thoughts from the night before came back. She had been in much worse states the morning after a drinking session, but at least this way Eric wouldn’t have her sprawled out around his apartment all day feeling sorry for herself until someone helped her back to her own shambles of a home. Glancing around, she noticed Eric was still asleep and that it was still ridiculously early considering how late it had been by the time he had probably managed to move her. Swearing quietly, Willow flopped back down with a groan and then regretted it as her head reminded her that there was a tiny hangover affecting her. [/blockquote][/blockquote][/size][/justify] • • • TAGGED! Eric! WORDS! 739! OUTFIT! Casual Mess LYRICS! In Fate’s Hand - - - Red Jumpsuit Apparatus NOTES! <3
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Post by Eric Henry Jacobs on Mar 9, 2013 19:16:25 GMT -5
Eric hadn’t had such weird and amusing conversations growing up. He’d hardly made any friends to have such odd conversations, and his siblings as great as they were, weren’t interested in things like that. Being the baby, it was usually him running around chasing after his older siblings, trying to get one of them to play with him. Kylee and Trevor usually dragged him along with them being a year and three older than him, respectively. So having friends now that didn’t mind and even enjoyed the more obscure topics, like zombie apocalypses, was great for Eric. As far as Eric was concerned, people shouldn’t be listening in on their conversations unless they had a good idea to add to their always growing list of them.
Eric wasn’t opposed to hitting up the clubs or a bar for a few drinks and maybe a few dances. But he was more likely to be up on the stage serenading the audience than dancing among the throngs of sweaty people anyway. He’d never been a fan of dance clubs for the dancing. Usually when he did go out with friends to those places, he hung by the table, watching everyone’s things while they danced and flirted and he listened to the beats. He would take to the dance floor when he was dragged out or there was a particular favourite of his blasting through the massive speakers, but usually the table was where he would be found. For Eric, it wasn’t the fame or even the money he was after, though he wouldn’t say it wouldn’t help matters. He simply wanted to entertain people, have people enjoy his melodies.
Eric rolled his eyes, but nodded his head along with Will’s slurred with sleep words. “I am writing it all down,” he said, though obviously didn’t mean it. Once everything was settled and Eric sprawled out on his side of the bed, sleep took him instantly. He wasn’t a light sleeper but he wouldn’t consider his sleeping patterns deep either. He didn’t wake at the slightest sound and could sleep easily through loud noises since his mother always turned up the music when he was a baby, to do her cleaning to. He woke easily when he knew someone was around but unless he heard something out of place in his sleep, he slept like the dead. And when he was good and ready to wake up, he was up instantly.
“It’s too early. Roll over,” Eric muttered into his pillow, moving about a little bit to get comfortable again. He remembered the night before, all that was planned but never done because a certain co-worker showed up on his doorstep. He wasn’t opposed to having his friends drop by and tossing his plans out the window, he rarely made any for that specific reason, but he really didn’t want to be awake before he was good and ready to be; which he wasn’t. “There’s meds in the top drawer next to your head,” he muttered into the pillow, waving his arm around haphazardly in Will's general direction as if it would help and vaguely hoped Will heard him. His head was too foggy from sleep and that fog didn’t seem to want to clear just yet.
Tag || Will!! Words || 544 Clothes || Best Dressed! Music || Feel Like a Rock Star by Kenny Chesney Notes || <3
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Post by Willow-Jae Dakota Holt on Mar 12, 2013 21:20:16 GMT -5
Willow might not have discussed the zombie apocalypse with her dad, but they had shared their own odd conversations of hypothetical ideas. It was where she had gotten it all from to begin with, even though it had laid dormant for a few years after things had spiralled out of control. The truth was that Will preferred talking about these odd things that would probably never come true rather than having the serious conversations about real life. Whenever anyone broached those topics, she usually found some sarcastic response and a quick change in topic, or a way to twist the questions to the person asking them. It might not have been the healthiest thing to do, but she much preferred it this way and since she was still only just on the cusp of her twenties, she didn’t see a reason why her life had to take a serious turn. Luckily, most of her friends preferred to keep the heavy stuff to a minimum and the light hearted jokes and questionable conversations were usually the norm for them all.
The tiny brunette’s main reason for the weekends with her friends was purely for the reasons of socialising. She didn’t need to drink her weight in alcohol or find some stranger to acquaint for an evening. After everything Willow had been through one of her biggest fears was loneliness, though if anyone ever called her out on it then they were most likely to get her fist in their stomach. The company, the inexplicable bruises or scratches and the blurred photographs from a set of drunken hands were the best ways to remember a forgotten night at her age. She might change her mind one day, but that day could be years off and until it happened she wasn’t going to contemplate it.
However, mornings like this left her wondering if it was time to find a less punishable hobby. Managing a sleepy glare at the side of the bed where Eric was, Willow deliberately dropped her hand down against his arm, or chest; she didn’t know or care what she hit first. “And you’re too loud. Shush. Inside voices.”
[/color] He might have mumbled, but he was still close enough for it to make her head pound again. Grabbing the sheets and sliding down, Will groaned and then fumbled for the meds he had mentioned. If something could take the edge off of the headache before it set in completely then she might be able to deal with the hangover a little easier after another hour of dreamless sleep. She managed to swallow the pills without the aid of water and then sighed as she snuggled back into the pillow. “Good friend.”[/color] She murmured, reaching across to pat Eric’s head before curling her arm back into her side and closing her eyes. It took a few moments, but she managed to drift back off into a much lighter sleep; just enough to ease some of the ache in her temples. [/blockquote][/blockquote][/size][/justify] • • • TAGGED! Eric! WORDS! 535 OUTFIT! Casual Mess LYRICS! In Fate’s Hand - - - Red Jumpsuit Apparatus NOTES! <3
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