[M] Two men, One nail

John

POSTED: Wed Jul 17, 2019 12:52 am

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.


"Okay, okay, okay... Look, look. Here," Wayne's gloved hands held a few boards up in one grip, and a handful of nails in the other," All's we gots'a do ssss start tha' foundation', firss'," Between juggling the materials in hand, and glancing at the newly filled flask at his hip, he seemed at an impasse with what to do with everything. Bloodshot red eyes moved between the three things before he got the idea to set the boards down for John to deal with, while he helped himself to the cold fire of river chilled alcohol. A gulp down and a loud gasp of sweet relief, he put the nails down beside the board, stumbling a bit. All in all, they had plenty of wood for exactly what they were looking at doing. What Wayne hadn't brought, were tools. It was beyond him at the moment.

"What'cha think, Johnnyboy?" He laughed," Be they gon' be jealous of 'us when is'all said'n done!" From the pile he'd started, he headed back to the scrap piles that were being made between demolition and repair of the Charmingtown project that the Gang had taken up,"C'mon...," He hicced roughly in his chest and gasped for a moment, leaning against a tree before being able to right himself again," We need more... uh..." Lost in thought, Wayne stopped in his tracks with his hand lingering in the air. A finger pointed toward the sky as confusion plastered in his drunken features. Eyes rolled around as he turned back to the wood he'd dropped just a moment ago.

With a snap and an," Aha!" He turned back toward the scrap they'd gathered and leaned over the pile. There were bits of stone, metal, wood and all sorts of things that they'd tossed in for later use or garbage to turn into something later. Just like John and Wayne were doing," It'sss gon' be 'mazin'," Tucking the flask at his hip, he reached into the pile and fumbled around. As he reached further in, he tipped over. With a crash he landed in the pile and rolled on his back, his hat crooked on his head and his eyes glistening. After a breath of shock, he threw his head back and laughed. The man was lucky the nails he hadn't gathered had narrowly missed him," Help me'up, brutha'," A dark hand rose, waving John over and hanging with little balance above him as Wayne couldn't stop laughing.


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POSTED: Thu Jul 18, 2019 11:21 pm

hangman is coming down from the gallows, and I don't have very long

It had started, like most bad ideas, with a simple drunken suggestion. The two of them lounging together and partaking of the toxic brews John had produced and idly chatting about all manner of things.

Thus leading to their current predicament.

John tripped over the wood that Wayne dropped and staggered a few feet and up-heaved his own load of wood all over the ground.

Shhhh. Shhhh, we got'sa be quiets. They're gon wake uppp. The midday sun shone down strongly upon the pair of drunken fools. The shadow of a stately old apple tree stretched wide over them, leaves rustling gently.

In lieu of picking up his dropped wood, he took a long drink from his skin whilst Wayne tried heftily to remember where and what his thought processes were before they ground to a halt.

No.. nono sss gon be okay -- sss fine. Wayne fell into the pile of wood and nails and John wheezed and spewed moonshine out of his nose.

Fuck thas burnns. Muthafucka. Alright, c'mere... He wandered over and grabbed ahold of his drunk brother, and heaved. Hard enough that he yanked Wayne up onto his feet and then right back off of them again.

From beneath the heavier man he mumbled,

Mista Wyatt, ah don think ah like yer in that manner. For expediency's sake, John gave Wayne's ass a squeeze anyway, just for luck.

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Johnathan Winthrop
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Jace
Luperci You have to love yourself a fire

POSTED: Fri Jul 19, 2019 12:13 am

“Quiet?” Wayne chuckled as he stumbled back,” Tha'sounds like Wyatt,” A dumb chuckle bubbled in his throat, before he couldn't seem to remember where he was or what he was doing. While he figured that out, John took a long swig of the sweet stuff, just long enough to catch the tail end of his drink as Wayne toppled into the woodpile.

Moonshine glitter littered the sky and sprinkled all over Wayne and they both laughed with such an effort they could have risen the dead.

Hand in hand, the two men did their very best to pull Wayne from his wood heap bonds. It was the seesaw all over again!

Up and over, he went, and further. His toes barely touched the ground as he was pulled right off of them and this time John fell to his back. With little control of where he landed, Wayne's thighs straddled the Winthrop, his arms flat on the ground above him and his face stuck beneath John's chin. He couldn't get up at first, he was laughing so hard, the sound of mirth that stole his breath and sounded more like pain that a good time.

“Shut the hell up, y'damn fool!” He muttered in John's face, grin bright as day, then tried to sit up so he could pull one of his bent knees out from under him. The squeeze of his left cheek brought something of a serious expression to his face and a hand planted between his collarbones with a ridiculous, pitched voice,” Well, I never!” A little love tap papped John across the muzzle as his expression crumbled into red-eyed teary guffawing, and finally he was able to roll off of John and onto the floor. All curled up into himself, knees to chest and clutching his stomach, he laughed and laughed until the wind was gone and he couldn't do more but spit out raspy whistles.

When he finally caught his breath, he sprawled out on the ground and gasped for air. A dark hand wiped a tear from his eye as brows lifted, blue eyes searching for John,” Aye!” He shouted, entirely to loud for the close proximity they were in,” Yew know wut we should do?” Heaving himself up on his but with one hand lazily sat between his sprawled legs. Pulling his flask again, having no memory of when he drank it last, lifted it up,” To th'best hell raiser I don evar met!” Tossing it back, he took a big swig and sent a cheeky grin John's way,” Get't? I'm the hell?” Throwing his head back in laughter, he nearly choked on his own tongue,” Y'picked me up! Y'raised me!”


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POSTED: Wed Aug 07, 2019 7:29 pm

hangman is coming down from the gallows, and I don't have very long

His nose still burned, that was the most prominent thing in his vinegar-soaked brain. For the sake of sakes, he wriggled beneath the heavier man in hopes he might escape this confinement to no luck. Well shiet.

Wayne was laughing into John's chest, and John still coughing the remains of his moonshine into the air. Well, that'd be swimming in his lungs for a night or two. Wayne's protesting ejaculations only served to give rise to more laughter, and John was maybe 95% sure he was going to choke on his own adam's apple.

Is takes a fool tah know one, ya fool. Maybe if they weren't such close friends, John would have made an actual pass at the Wyatt male. As it was, it seemed criminally indecent even by his own standards to corrupt his brother in that way. Also as it was, John might have been too drunk to get himself upright again.

His friend wheezed and spluttered, and John did the same and tried not to hack up a lung. Then he noticed the nail sticking out of his hand. Well.. wouldya look at that.

It bled too when he pulled it out, how about that.

They managed to pull themselves to at least sitting, well John was sitting, and searching for his drink. Just in time for 'hell raiser' to reach his ears and to spray out the shine all over again.

At least he wasn't gonna fall over this time.

Fukkin' hell raiser. He muttered with a strained voice, through the burning of the shine.

OOC | [wc — 000] template by hilli
Johnathan Winthrop
I'm a dead man walkin'
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Jace
Luperci You have to love yourself a fire

POSTED: Sun Aug 18, 2019 4:55 pm

Wayne seemed to be all about that perfect timing as his joke hit spot on, right as he intended. Their laughter, choking and general revelry filled the space around them with their obnoxious drunken antics. Hell, with how much John was losing from his flask, you could even say they were watering the crop of their little project that was sure to blow all of Del Cenere away.

When the coydog was finally able to sit up, wheezing for breath as mirthful tears streamed down his cheeks, he planted his hands on his knees. It was like he jogged straight from St. John's to Amherst with no stop, he was panting, tongue lolled and the veins in his maw lifting in the thinner threads of his muzzle. It took some time, but he was finally composed enough, to take a look at his brother in arms. The man had pulled a right nail out of his hand.

Blue eyes widened as he waved at the man to give him his hand, scooting his ass across the ground with the heels of his feet,” What'cha got'here. L'emme see, l'emme see,” He urged, the look of general concern painting his features surprisingly sober. With John's hand in his own, he spread the man's fingers to get a good look a it. Impish eyes turned up to the coyote and a wide, cheeky grin spread across a once gravely serious expression.

“Tha's one what ta'get nailed,” He dropped, nearly unable to finish the joke before he was leaned over himself, abandoning John's hand and slapping his knee several times. Sure, John was bound to get sick of his stupidity eventually, but there seemed no off switch now that the man had gotten started. Not only that, but with their antics, the opportunities seemed endless.


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