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#laced drink – @whump-txt on Tumblr
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bruises are pretty imo

@whump-txt / whump-txt.tumblr.com

occasionally i do the writes. Call me Eterni! Asks/Messages are always open! She/Her/Minor
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Oasis sauntered into the crowded bar, returning the stares from turned heads. He pulled his halo off of his head and flicked it around his finger a few times, finally letting it return to its place, hovering a few inches above his hair. He took a seat on one of the falling-apart stools and turned to face the tired bartender, an old woman he probably had seen before but had forgotten. “One, uh, I don’t fuckin’ know, anything. Make it the strong shit. I’m planning to drink ‘till I black the fuck out.” The woman just sighed and started on his drink. 

The angel drummed his fingers on the table, scanning the room. Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around abruptly, staring up into the stranger’s cold brown eyes. “Oh come on, what the fuck do you want?” Oasis said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “Can’t a person just have a simple drink without getting bothered?” The man said nothing, just furrowed his brow slightly and backed away. 

“Your drink, sir.” The woman pushed a cup over to him, and Oasis gulped it down, slapping a few bills on the counter to pay. He got up and looked around for the strange man, but he was nowhere to be seen, so Oasis sat back down and finished his drink. He looked at the man next to him, who seemed to be staring at him. “The fuck you lookin’ at?” Oasis hoped his voice carried through the noise of the crowd. “You’re not special, it happens all the time.” 

“Uh, I think someone messed with your drink,” he said, his expression cautious. “Shit.” Oasis whirled around, trying to spot anyone, but all the faces blurred together, all the different conversations swirled and mixed together in his head. He lifted his head off of the table-- when did he put his head down?-- and shut his eyes. Even the dim lighting of the bar was too much. “Need to fuckin… uh, get outta here.” He pushed himself up with two hands on the rough counter, the world spinning around him. He staggered, his wings fluttering uselessly, gripping the counter harder. Which way was the door again?” 

“Here, let me.” The man slid and arm around Oasis’s shoulders, and he ducked away, almost falling in the process. “Get your fucking hands offa me, piece of shit,” he growled. The doors loomed up ahead of him, and he shoved someone out of the way to get to it. He collapsed against the doors, hitting his head on the handle, and everything went black. 

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