[021] & [005] | OTA

[unsleeved]

Who: Daryl & Everyone, Jesse & Everyone
Where: Here there and everywhere
When: 3/20 - 3/27
Rating: R for language and drug use and whatnot
Summary: Event catchall thingy for both Daryl & Jesse
The Story:

Ha, fooled you, there is totally something under this cut. And that something is a PLEASE SEE COMMENTS notice. Subheadings for different places/times/people (if needed)/etc.

ALSO if anyone has the burning desire to do anything in any of the other areas (with either Daryl or Jesse), hit me up via PM or PP and we can work it out. C:

...OKAY GO!!

Comments

ugh that bb face help me ALSO UGHH FORGIVE ME THAT SLUR JESSE IS A TOOL SOMETIMES

[cowhouse]

[He's the most intimidating ever, okay?? Dealwithit.gif, basically.

Jesse rolls his eyes.]

I'm not taking requests, man, you're outta luck there-- [A bunch of dicks. Jesus. H O M O.] So what're you like the park police? Defender of playground purity, keeping the monkey bars safe from negative influences, or whatever?

[If so, he probably won't appreciate the (artfully rendered!!) obscenities and pot leaves of varying sizes and stylization levels floating around everywhere. Subtlety: not Jesse's strongest suit right now.]

Forgiven, of course~

[johnnyblake]

Naw, man, I'm just a decent human bein', that's all. Mean, you gotta know it says somethin' 'bout a guy if all he's doin' is makin' a bunch of little kids cry.

[ Blake dips down to snap up one of the cans, mostly to inspect it. ]

There's a whole big fucking canvas inside that mansion. Why here? Seriously? 'Cause the way these people are— [ He waves a hand up and down in front of his own face, making a silly expression to insinuate they're checked out. ] —no one's gonna care.

weeps

[cowhouse]

[Jesse stops what he's doing and actually snorts at that face.]

Yeah, no, I got that. Sounds kinda familiar.

[And then he frowns, setting his paint down and stubbing his cigarette out on the side of the slide.] And yo, I'm not trying to make little kids cry, Jesus.

[He crosses his arms.

He doesn't have an explanation past that; it actually hadn't occurred to him that yeah, no one gives a shit here. Not about this kind of crap, anyway.

Token hoodluming, pretty much.

Not that he's gonna admit to that just yet.]

So what're you doing out here? Or did you just come to totally break my balls?

[johnnyblake]

Mostly just to break your balls, I guess. [ Because that's what former trouble-makers do when they no longer spend all their time making trouble. Not that Blake's entirely reformed — there's certainly still a wickedly prevalent wild streak — but he's trying to be better.
The can gets tested for heft and then John shakes it around in order to see how much paint's left in the can. ]

Must really like art. [ He sprays some of the paint into the air just because — ahhh, sweet chlorofluorocarbons — and then crouches to test the color against the grass. ] You wanna paint together? Can get a big-ass canvas, could drape it up, make somethin' that way....

[ He's seriously asking for a play date here, I think. ]

[cowhouse]

[Jesse makes a face.]

Awesome. Break my balls and make yourself at home, spray my paint everywhere-- [And he's about to tell him to bounce, but then...

He really doesn't like being by himself. And everyone else had gone back to the Mansion a few hours ago...]

...I've never used this stuff on a canvas before.

[INTRIGUED. HE'S INTRIGUED OKAY. Maybe.]

[johnnyblake]

Comes in those big rolls, too. Bet you could get one and stretch it out and paint like... some serious shit. Or a really long word.

[ Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious...

Blake shrugs and tosses the can back where he found it, wiping his hands on his jeans. Much younger and Blake probably would have started some kind of fight, but at nineteen, he's feeling a lot less inclined to make any serious trouble. I mean, jail's jail, not juvie. ]

Whatever, I mean, do what you want, but just figure people are gonna smear up your paint if you're gonna keep puttin' it 'round here.

[cowhouse]

[Jesse snorts. That's the word he's thinking of, too. Is there a longer one...?

Probably in like German or something. They have super long words, right? Fluggaenkoecchicebolsen...?]

Not if they're careful.

[But... Yeah, okay, maybe he should move to a wall/canvas and not, like... Equipment. It's still daytime, after all, that's more of an after-dark pursuit, probably.]

[johnnyblake]

Hey. [ Srs face is srs. ] I'm careful.

[ And also standing there expectantly, arms crossed as if he's waiting for Jesse to see his perspective. Canvas is easier to keep, anyway, and if you do that shit inside, sometimes you get a little high on the fumes. You know, for future reference. ]

We should stop by the kitchen and get some snacks, too.

[ "We." Yep, totally taggin' along while he's naggin' along. ]

[cowhouse]

[Please say that to Jesse out loud- the high thing- if you wanna see a neat trick. It's called "watch how fast this kid can run inside and find an empty room"...]

...You gonna make me some pizza rolls, dad?

[...He says as he gets up anyway. Where logic and patience fail, food occasionally prevails.]

[johnnyblake]

Pizza rolls. Pizza, maybe, but fuck pizza rolls. You think that shit's food? It takes like... thirteen minutes to make a real fucking pizza, Christ.

[ He'd made more than his fair share of pizzas and pasta and any other kind of kid-friendly food during his time at the boys' home. ]

Don't you give a shit about what goes into your body?

[ HAHAHAHA! Seriously, though, drugs probably aren't even considered in that statement. It's all about the food. ]

[cowhouse]

[Jesse drops his gaze rather pointedly to the pack of cigarettes sitting on the ground next to him.]

...Uh, not really, no. Why do you care anyways?

[He totally called the dad thing. Totally called it.]

And yo. Who doesn't like pizza rolls? I mean seriously-- they're like... Like a gift from god, or something. Pizza rolls are the bomb.

[Next you're gonna tell him you don't like cocktail hot dogs or jalapeno poppers... FOR SHAME.]

[johnnyblake]

[ OMG, just lay off the dad thing, okay? He hasn't gotten anyone pregnant and he's not about to adopt any punk asses at nineteen. Seriously, though, he's totally a dad. An old dad with his interests primarily focused on taking care of others (even if he pretends otherwise). ]

They're not even food. You can get fried ravioli that's gonna do better'n that. Don't you get bored with that crap? McDonald's and Taco Bell and shit, fff. Rather have a sandwich. Or some waffles.

[ Mmmmm, waffles. ]

[cowhouse]

[I DON'T KNOW BRO arguing about healthy food is tantamount to a birds and the bees speech as far as Jesse's concerned. And he's totally the authority, here. Clearly.

He knows all about great parenting.........]

Who eats Taco Bell? That's not food. And it sure as hell isn't Mexican food. [No, really, he's offended.] Authenticity or bust, yo. ...Or waffles, yeah. Waffles are the shit too.

[johnnyblake]

Yeah. Hell yeah. Waffles are the best.

[ And there's no convincing him otherwise, clearly, because this has been a lifetime obsession. Can't blame a guy for what he likes, right? ]

So, what? Pizza? Or not. 'Cause you can have whatever the Hell you want, but I'm gonna make a goddamn pizza.

[cowhouse]

[N O P E.]

...If you're making a pizza I'm not gonna like say no. [Who can resist pizza when it's there? Not fucking Jesse, that's for sure.

Standing, finally, he stretches, dropping the can haphazardly onto the wood chips as he goes. He'll come back for it later.

...Maybe.] Let's get outta here. Friggin' starving now, thanks for that.

[Blake, the joint he'd smoked half an hour ago... You know. Same thing.

He moves to start toward the mansion, now thoroughly distracted from his vandalism, and reaches into his pocket to look for his cigarettes and lighter.]