gonewiththereap: (starlet)
Some people went to bars to meet men. Some people went to libraries, socials, and events to meet people. For Daisy Adair, it's always been a restaurant or food establishment of some sort. Even if this isn't Der Waffle Haus, it's a quaint little place to get food and watch people and as Daisy pops slices of apples past her lips and wishes fervently for a Diet Coke, she enjoys her people-watching, legs crossed and foot tapping with eager energy as she sits there, pretending that Georgia and the rest are with her in spirit.

Not only are people so very interesting, but there's no failure to find handsome men in this place and from her place at her table, she gets an up-close view of just about every last of said men. The one who's at the counter right now is very intriguing and Daisy wants to remedy their lack of acquaintance soon as she can.
gonewiththereap: (beautiful and bright)
Once in a while, Daisy imbibes just a smidgen too much during her shift. She loves her work and it's something to do, but she just drinks a little here and a little there. It never did a thing before with a reaper's constitution, but now it settles pleasantly in her stomach and makes her feel like she's tumbling.

She's in a little blue number tonight that binds at the front with a white corset-like shirt and she's done for the evening and sitting to rest her precious corns, watching Helen as she finishes up for the night. She's still tipsy and that bite of regret and loneliness is just around the corner, she can feel it.

"Don't you ever feel sorry for them?" she wonders aloud in Helen's direction. "All the girls and boys who come here to play?"
gonewiththereap: (contemplate: by digi_n_sanity)
When it comes down to making decisions, Daisy's always been good at doing them in the blink of an eye and dealing with the consequences later. After all, that's basically the morale of every love story she's gone and gotten herself into. Bags packed, outfits with her, makeup and everything she owns, there she stands outside Max's door, in her prettiest character she can embody.

"Max Carrigan, open up," she hollers with intent, a grin on her face as she perches right on the frame of the door and just waits. This has to do something for her, she figures. Living alone did nothing and living with a stranger had been even worse. She misses Georgia desperately and she believes that if nothing else, having a friend as a roommate ought to tide her over until she feels the need for change again.
gonewiththereap: (shades of white: by digi_n_sanity)
Presumably, our pups have lives that happen when we aren't playing them, as none of us can play 24/7. Some of the things that happen are tedious and everyday, and not worth thinking much on: It's fair to assume they eat, bathe, go to "work" or school as it applies, etc. But there might be things that happen between pups that, while not necessarily requiring a thread, are important to note for the sake of development. The important stuff should always be played out, but we know you can't always play everything, and sometimes you need a little nudge in the right direction.

gonewiththereap: (miserable)
gonewiththereap: (it's cold here at night: by ?)
It had been a long couple months and while Daisy Adair is so very good at denial, there's this one little time that she can't ignore it and that's the wee hours of night when her mind shuts off and her subconscious flickers images through her mind. With Mason disappearing, with Ray showing up, with soldiers left and right, she feels raw right to the core.

If she'd thought it was bad before with her inability to sleep, well, boy howdy, is it worse now more than ever. After hours of tossing and turning, Daisy sits up and draws a robe around her slim form before making a familiar trek to a familiar room.

She doesn't even knock, just wanders into the room and after making sure he's alone, she crawls into Lionel's bed and wraps her arms around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder. She's so tired and that's why she doesn't even mind that her hair isn't perfect to the last strand -- ninety-five percent perfect will just have to do. She hopes he doesn't wake up, but at the same time, she hopes he does.

Because right now, Daisy needs a friend. A real one.
gonewiththereap: (beautiful and bright)
There's something morbid about the whole thing, but then, there's something morbid about Daisy's whole existence and she's not in the mood to dissect and diagnose it on the whole. All she knows is that she's got a drink and a blanket and a Lionel Thayer and there's a movie that she's seen a hundred times on before her, put into print in '39 and displayed on screens everywhere.

It's just starting now and she gestures Lionel over, patting the couch beside her. "C'mere and make yourself comfortable," she encourages, all perk and vim and cheer, like she hasn't told Geoffrey that her life's just one big waste of space or that there's some poor girl out there being breathed on by Mason's terrible breath.
gonewiththereap: (we're in trouble: by ?)
Rupert made a noise of approving surprise, hand roaming over her as they stumbled into the closet. He caught himself on a pile of stuff, blinking a little, then laughed.

"I- All right," he said, absently licking the corner of his mouth where something that tasted vaguely of plastic was smeared. His grin was bright. This was a great day.

Daisy's used to this, she's done this for stars and plebes and many more and not all her stories are balderdash like Rube might say. She sinks down to her knees, hands sliding over his shirt as she fixates on undoing those trousers of Rupert's, smiling and winking upwards. "Ready for a ride, sweetie?"
gonewiththereap: (georgie and daisy: by fadingtwilights)
Oh god, I remember. [imitates Jake] ‘Drinks all around on me!’ The look on his face when Bella and Andrew hit their fifth round. Actually…[he points to a picture] yeah, that look. These are great. Look at us. Look at me. God, I was so happy. [He shakes his head] Do you remember the last time you were happy?

[sits down beside him on the couch]

I do. Five minutes before I broke up. I mean, I thought I was happy. You know? That whole fake cheer thing. I used to think that I would come to Hollywood and make it big, and that would make me happy. I came here wanting to be a legend. Shakespeare and the classics and maybe a little theatre of the absurd. Getting rich was never a part of it, I mean, I’ve got money. I don’t need some mansion, because well, to be honest…I don’t want to move. I’ve got plenty to stay for right here.

You’re pretty well off.

If I left, who’d pay Will’s monthly rent when he gets behind?

A beat.

You’re not happy.

I thought I was.


gonewiththereap: (Default)

February 2010

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