`pour your sugar on me, - abigail

[APRIL ELIZABETH QUINTON]

This is how parties with the tour normally went down: someone poured shots, everyone took one or two. Then, someone would bring out the marijuana, and everyone would take a few puffs, or play a smoking game. Next, there would be a few more round of shots. Finally, there would be a few lines of coke, and after that some wasted dancing along with music.

At least, those were the tours usual parties. Some fucking health fanatic came in, stressed to one of the band members she was dating that they should stop, and so they did. Now a days, the parties were just shots, whiskey sipping, and dancing. Alcohol, music, and falling on the ground. Fun, fun, ouch. Of course, one or two rebels would whip out the weed anyway, but no one dared bringing out the cocaine or meth. Not when she was around. Never, ever.

Cheering arose from the people near April Quinton as she took another shot of the strongest drink they had on tour. That was her fifth one of that specific alcohol, and she beat out on of the guys who only did three. The twenty year old stumbled off her seat, attempting to fix her dyed red hair and balance her self in the process. More shots were beginning to be poured, and everything in her line of sight began to blur. A smile was on her face as she tried to dance along to the beat, too drunk to even notice that she was a bit off. Someone came along and handed her an amaretto on the rocks, one of her favorite drinks. She stumbled forward again, this time landing herself on a random leather couch that one band had found and put in the parking lot. The person who had given her a drink looked attractive - well, attractive enough.

"Hey," Aprils words came out louder than she meant for them to. "What's cookin', good lookin'?" A sloppy grin was plastered to her face. There was no control left in her body, whatsoever. Her tongue slid over her lips at the male 'drink-giver' kissed her, then walked away. That's all I'm ever going to be good for. The thought lingered in her mind, then she shook it off. No, I'm a drummer. I might be easy, and I might be drunk - No, I'm not drunk. I'm just a little . . . tipsy. I'm at ease. I'm definitely NOT DRUNK. I wouldn't let myself get drunk, not with these people.

And to be honest, April loved being a slut. She loved the feeling of someones lips brushing against her body, she loved the feeling of euphoria even if it was just for a minute or two. She loved knowing she could fuck anyone she wanted, any time she wanted, with no strings attached. She loved knowing her heart wouldn't be broken, that she could remain perfectly intact. And most of all, April loved being able to go to the bus at the end of the day feeling sexy, even if she had an emotional breakdown that day. Sex wasn't even about feeling please to her anymore, it was more of a confidence thing. April felt like she could get anyone she wanted.

There's also the ending of parties, where the drunk ones passed out around the bon fire, the high kids found some food and went to get cozy, and the sober punks stayed to take care of the sleeping drinkers. April couldn't pass out. Her body wouldn't let her, even if she wanted to. Her red hair was now pulled up in a messy, drunken ponytail, and she was making her way to Weekend Warriors tour bus. Her body craved sex, but she knew she wasn't getting any - all the fun people were either passed out or in their buses. She walked in circles around the bus, looking for the ladder. It took her about three minutes before the blurred pattern came to her - it was right in front of her eyes. She slowly, safely, and surely made her way up to the top. The array of stars above her made this the perfect end to a not-so perfect night. If only she had someone to share it with.

words; 710.
notes; im sorry i didn't let you pick the plot D: you were asleep + i was bored.
tag meg/abigail <3

[ABIGAIL SARA RICHARDS]

There was something so incredibly annoying about walking in the pitch black. It would have been really fucking amazing if there was some sort of lunar situation happening in the sky, but of course she wasn't that fucking lucky. Not only was it fucking dark as hell, it was really, really cold, and she was also sober and alone. Well the sober and alone bit didn't really bother her, the fucking cold and darkness did. Jesus, she only liked it dark when she was sleeping in her bed at night. Call her a bitch for thinking, but why didn't someone think of putting lights out for the happy tour players? Oh right, because no one really fucking cared. They just, perhaps, assumed that every little drummer boy and guitar player was passed out in their bunks like good little pussies. Yeah, that was how ever fucking person wanted to live their tour life. Okay, okay, there were a select few who were tucked away in their bunks, but holy shit hardly anyone was like that. They were all, more than likely, passed out on a floor. Again, there were those who did set a nice bed time.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. The cold was making her think in circles, she might have just died right there. Her fingers already felt like they were turning black from frost bite, she probably wouldn't have even been able to see if they fucking were. Jesus Christ, this was ridiculous. She honestly just wanted to go back to the bus and get drunk. Drunk, yeah, maybe then she'd forget about the loneliness and the darkness of the tour grounds on the side that no one seemed to tread to. Abby sighed as her shoes tripped on some invisible rock. "I hate everything." she lied to no one in particular. She liked a lot of things, violent video games, her dad, her brothers, the amazing German Shepard that waited for her back home, that sort of stuff. God how she missed all of that stuff. Brock was just an amazing being, it was such a shame that there wouldn't have been room for the animal.

She paused, looking up into the sky. The stars looked pretty good, not that they'd light up her world, she could only have been so lucky. Abby ran her fingers through her hair gently, way off in the distance her eyes could see the beautiful sight of light. Jesus she'd never been so happy for that bright nonsense that lit up her nightlife, quite literally. She grinned happily and started walking once more towards where she would finally find the companionship and light she so greatly desired. Perhaps she'd do something like clean her bunk... Riiight, and then pigs would fly through the bus and then light up the night sky with their asses, or something stupid like that.

Abby made a beeline for the bus that she considered her mobile house, since it was after all. She could see the miscellaneous party goers lingering around and staggering about, but she didn't stop to really identify those particular party members. Actually she didn't really want to, it wasn't about stopping, she probably didn't even have to stop to tell who the hell they were. Her pace quickened as she began to near the Weekend Warriors' tour bus. Abby wondered what state she'd find the bus, most of the members had given up their drugs, although she knew some who had not. Drugs, in her opinion, were dumb and just too risky.

She boarded the bus and made note of the ladder and open hatch. She hoped whoever was up there wasn't drunk enough to roll off the top, that was publicity they really didn't need. Abby climbed to the top and peaked over the top, a grin spread over her mouth. "Word." she said idiotically, there was no other way to describe such and over used and outdated greeting term. Deep down inside she was secretly hoping that she didn't pull a humpty dumpty, and that they could possible hang out. Abby needed to hang out with someone who wasn't testosterone involved right now.

WORDs

[/color] 700ish
OTHER[/color] sorry about that. n_n /rambly&gross.
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