"Well some faggot took my board, so maybe I might go with who ever's driving," Bradley added, taking back the spliff and inhaled from the butt. He exhaled and got up from the couch, tossing the remote towards Aria, "Speaking of," Bradley said, standing straight and clasping his hands. He took a deep breath, liking the silence, then broke it with a grin, "I'm throwing a rager tonight! It's going to be packed with friends, strangers from the school, hopefully attractive women. Who know,s I might score tonight. I've already got my stash in my closet, just going to check in with you all to see if it works. " He said this in a hole exhale, before walking towards the kitchen to get himself a shot of Reyka he had tucked into the fridge. Leaving the group to their thoughts and emotions about Bradley's sudden party announcement.
He came back, the shot glass on hand, finishing off the splint and flicking it away towards the trash can. Bradley dipped his head back and drank from the shot glass, turning it upside down and setting it on the nearest counter top. [color=1b1464]"There goes [i] one [/i person who can't drive."[/color]. Bradley took one of his sweaters and slung them on. He looked at Satan- that fucking cat! "The fuck you lookin' at?
Bradley sat upright on his bed, for god knows how long. He looked over at his blinds and saw the sun shined, "Aw shit. Here we go again." Said Bradley, mentioning a game he used to play.
He stood, reaching behind him and taking a spliff from his desk and lit it in the lighting in his sweatpants. He put it in his mouth and let it hand as he exited the room. He did intervals of inhaling, then exhaling off of the spliff. He fell onto the couch, and waited for Kejirah to get outside and start to wake up the group. Bradley laid in that awkward position, breathing in and out the smoke. As she did come out, and started to yell towards the room, he overheard what she said and raised his head. " Ooo! Starbucks? I'd like some of that Caro-machiato-double shot- twist- thingy." Bradley said loud enough. He then lowed his head back into the couch and twisted himself into a upright position.
Bradley waited for a few more to wake up and shuffle among the duplex. He looked over towards Aria, removing the spliff from his mouth, holding it with two fingers and offered it to her. Bradley hoped she would take a hit, maybe. Using his free hand, Bradley groaned and took the remote from a spot on the floor and turned on the television.
Known for his house parties- and large quantities of shitty beer and weed- Bradley had always stood out as that one 'stoner kid'. He was like this since his junior year of high school, the teachers knowing what he did in the bathroom, though they had no evidence to prove of his actions. It took a bad police dog, and some bribes to help him pass the following years. You would probably guess on how he reacted when weed finally became legal. College was a fresh start for him, he could sober up, he could make friends and forget about the- and he already has cannabis plants on him.
Bradly is always friendly when he's high, asking for someone to smoke with him, as most of his bud's are living across the FUCKING CITY. when alone, weed can't stop his thoughts. And those thoughts intensify during the rare times he's sober. Waking up in the morning, who knows what or whom is inside his bed, though he knows he needs an Advil and a cup of booze. He's always down for a game of any kind, especially something of contact- oh, not in the gay way... No homo. He's the type of person you look for when you need to take a load off, the one guy that can get you relaxed, pills or otherwise.
The people who get to know him know more than the stoner persona. When sober, he had a constant stream of self doubt, and dark thoughts. He knows he's too much of a pussy to end it all, so all he can do now is sulk it all in. He thinks that he will never find happiness that's not rolled up in cigarette paper, and decides that THAT is the only way for him to feel happy in a way. He finds himself unable to be as social as he was when high, and could only do simple interactions with his friends, or just someone to joke around with.
Likes: -Marijuana -RHCP and some Ska music -Hard liquor with a side of fun games - Hot boxing inside his room- or other rooms. -Sharing shots with friends
Dislikes: -The smell of sanitizer - Stupid ass wet ass, bitch ass rain days - Shitty beer - Fucking cats- those pointy eared bastards.
Reason for sharing the duplex?: This was not his first choice of living space. Though it was the only choice- and the cheapest- for him. He didn't want to be homeless after all. He had gotten himself kicked out of dorm after dorm, then kicked out of an apartment all for the same reasons- loud ass raves. He would have to dumb down his parties so he would at least have a roof over his head.
Room Aesthetic: Bradley's room is very simple and mediocre. Having just some band posters and a white sheet bed with white pillows. Within his side of the room, however, are stashes of drugs- mainly cannabis and some LSD- that are hidden. Some places would always be within his duffel bag, holes in the wall that are covered by said posters, and other places. Most of his fellow patrons know that he has a stash almost everywhere in his room.
Backstory: Bradley is a boy born and raised in Oceanside, California, the only child to a workaholic mother, left to fend for himself to take care of himself. With her mother arriving from work late, he would have no sense of guidance, making him stubborn and seeking independence in the most hardest situations. It was only in the morning would Bradley see his mother, and only when she's asleep. When was the last time they both went to the beach for a walk? Ah, never mind, he's going to be late for school!
His school life would be worse than his home life, being bullied and made fun of. Was it puberty, or was it because he has no one to talk to? Those were the questions he always asked himself when he arrived home, bunched up in a corner and trying not to cry. He was close to committing suicide, though failed to commit to the action itself, instead, having those thoughts float around his head. That's when he had the realization- he had to make it look like he didn't care. He worked at the a local retail store, and he could promise free liquor for some cannabis... seems like a plan. And so it was. He was the person to bring at every party, he was... popular. This all changed when he graduated.
It seemed that he managed to get enough grades to get in a university not far from where he is, and he took that chance. His mother was growing old and Bradley spent the last of his money from his old job to put her in a retirement home ( though she was relatively young, Bradley knew a worker that would take her in.). Now in Uni, he struggled on what he wanted to do, then thought back to when he got hooked on the bad shit. He wanted to be a hospital worker- save lives and shit. Bradley had then enrolled in a pre-med program, where he would hopefully get that dream of his that was lost so long ago.During that time though, Bradley got into athletics, training in Wrestling in a half-hearted manner.
Other: - It's unsure if he sleeps or stays up all night, though whenever his roommate wakes up, he's always awake before him. -He has an entire stock of liquor that is littered around the kitchen. -1b1464
Known for his house parties- and large quantities of shitty beer and weed- Bradley had always stood out as that one 'stoner kid'. He was like this since his junior year of high school, the teachers knowing what he did in the bathroom, though they had no evidence to prove of his actions. It took a bad police dog, and some bribes to help him pass the following years. You would probably guess on how he reacted when weed finally became legal. College was a fresh start for him, he could sober up, he could make friends and forget about the- and he already has cannabis plants on him.
Bradly is always friendly when he's high, asking for someone to smoke with him, as most of his bud's are living across the FUCKING CITY. when alone, weed can't stop his thoughts. And those thoughts intensify during the rare times he's sober. Waking up in the morning, who knows what or whom is inside his bed, though he knows he needs an Advil and a cup of booze. He's always down for a game of any kind, especially something of contact- oh, not in the gay way... No homo. He's the type of person you look for when you need to take a load off, the one guy that can get you relaxed, pills or otherwise.
The people who get to know him know more than the stoner persona. When sober, he had a constant stream of self doubt, and dark thoughts. He knows he's too much of a pussy to end it all, so all he can do now is sulk it all in. He thinks that he will never find happiness that's not rolled up in cigarette paper, and decides that THAT is the only way for him to feel happy in a way. He finds himself unable to be as social as he was when high, and could only do simple interactions with his friends, or just someone to joke around with.
Likes: -Marijuana -RHCP and some Ska music -Hard liquor with a side of fun games - Hot boxing inside his room- or other rooms. -Sharing shots with friends
Dislikes: -The smell of sanitizer - Stupid ass wet ass, bitch ass rain days - Shitty beer - Fucking cats- those pointy eared bastards.
Reason for sharing the duplex?: This was not his first choice of living space. Though it was the only choice- and the cheapest- for him. He didn't want to be homeless after all. He had gotten himself kicked out of dorm after dorm, then kicked out of an apartment all for the same reasons- loud ass raves. He would have to dumb down his parties so he would at least have a roof over his head.
Room Aesthetic: Bradley's room is very simple and mediocre. Having just some band posters and a white sheet bed with white pillows. Within his side of the room, however, are stashes of drugs- mainly cannabis and some LSD- that are hidden. Some places would always be within his duffel bag, holes in the wall that are covered by said posters, and other places. Most of his fellow patrons know that he has a stash almost everywhere in his room.
Backstory: Bradley is a boy born and raised in Oceanside, California, the only child to a workaholic mother, left to fend for himself to take care of himself. With her mother arriving from work late, he would have no sense of guidance, making him stubborn and seeking independence in the most hardest situations. It was only in the morning would Bradley see his mother, and only when she's asleep. When was the last time they both went to the beach for a walk? Ah, never mind, he's going to be late for school!
His school life would be worse than his home life, being bullied and made fun of. Was it puberty, or was it because he has no one to talk to? Those were the questions he always asked himself when he arrived home, bunched up in a corner and trying not to cry. He was close to committing suicide, though failed to commit to the action itself, instead, having those thoughts float around his head. That's when he had the realization- he had to make it look like he didn't care. He worked at the a local retail store, and he could promise free liquor for some cannabis... seems like a plan. And so it was. He was the person to bring at every party, he was... popular. This all changed when he graduated.
It seemed that he managed to get enough grades to get in a university not far from where he is, and he took that chance. His mother was growing old and Bradley spent the last of his money from his old job to put her in a retirement home ( though she was relatively young, Bradley knew a worker that would take her in.). Now in Uni, he struggled on what he wanted to do, then thought back to when he got hooked on the bad shit. He wanted to be a hospital worker- save lives and shit. Bradley had then enrolled in a pre-med program, where he would hopefully get that dream of his that was lost so long ago.During that time though, Bradley got into athletics, training in Wrestling in a half-hearted manner.
Other: - It's unsure if he sleeps or stays up all night, though whenever his roommate wakes up, he's always awake before him. -He has an entire stock of liquor that is littered around the kitchen.
Cole
ruler of spades
Izurich
Little Bill
