casual discussions ; teddy

[michael.]

trigger warnings alcohol, death, lots of blood, profanity, heavy violence, religion. tags  45 years old, difficult/hard opponent, nonviolent interactions are open, pm or ask for violent interactions.

"speech" 'thought' text

It had been a month or so since he’d punched Teddy. The satisfying crunch of his jaw underneath Mike’s fist still rang in his ears. Even his hand being crushed underneath a meat tenderizer, and the sharp intense feeling of bones breaking, and the dull pain afterwards which still lingered even now, couldn’t overshadow the satisfaction of planting his fist into Teddy’s far too symmetrical face.

The well built man sat in the bar. The lights were dimmed the bartender had since closed up, but had not asked Mike to leave. Or maybe he had and Mike just hadn’t paid attention. There were still a few members of the Badlands who were scared of him. Or perhaps respected him somewhat, though why he did not know...

His dark eyes flitted around the mostly empty room. He had a mostly full bottle of alcohol next to him. A glass was in his hand, and he took a few sips, letting the alcohol burn down his throat. His stomach roiled. Drinking on an empty stomach was never a good idea, and yet that was what he was doing right now.

He’d drink. Drink to forget, drink to oblivion. Drink to die. His tolerance from alcohol was high, high from the drink he’d been drinking off and on for the past twenty-five years. He swallowed more of the drink, emptying the glass and filling it back up from the bottle.

His hands shook, and he set down the bottle. His vision swam, but he continued drinking. It was the only way, aside from massive amounts of pain, that dulled the pain in his mind. Shrouded the memories he fought so hard to forget.

[TEDDY.]

It had been a month since Mike earned a bruising, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Mike may have thought he’d seen Teddy’s bad side but no — the broken hand was just a warning. He hadn’t seen Teddy’s dark side yet, the side where his temper outrivalled composure. Teddy was a lean and seemingly unimposing man; whilst physical prowess was not anything to write home about, his mind was his weapon. Like a ticking bomb just waiting for the final strike, Teddy observed Mike with each passing day. If the broken hand put Mike back in his place, then Teddy would eventually dismiss him.

But, Mike’s foul attitude lingered, and that was no good.

In fact, Mike was really not in Teddy’s good books at all, especially after news got back to him that it seemed like Mike was talking to Teddy’s many lovers a lot more than usual. It couldn’t be a coincidence that, at the very same time, people began to look at Teddy with disdain. From what it looked like, Mike was doing a swell job at turning Teddy’s loyal followers against him. Little did Teddy realise that that was all his own doing.

The bar had since shut for the night, lights dim and chairs empty, with the exception of one person. Just the person Teddy wanted to see. Teddy wandered over, hands in the pockets of his trousers, before stopping behind Mike. ❝ Go. ❞ Teddy ordered the bartender, nodding to the door, before the bartender lowered the glass he was buffing and left. Eyes set aflame with bitterness, Teddy curled his lip before leaning over to whisper in Mike’s ear, ❝ I know what you’re tryna do. ❞ He slowly straightened up again before taking the bottle of alcohol that Mike had been drinking so that Teddy could pour himself a drink. As he poured the liquid into a nearby glass, Teddy watched the way the liquor glugged into the glass generously whilst he nonchalantly mentioned, ❝ I know what you’re tryna do, and I don’t appreciate it. ❞

He left the bottle on the counter beside Mike as he began to wander away to sit at a table, taking a sip of the drink before lighting up a cigarette for himself. Taking a puff, Teddy watched the drunken man from afar, a look of disgust in his eyes as he stared at the sorry state that Mike was in. Eventually, Teddy looked away, comfortably leaning back in his seat as he smoked. ❝ Stay away from my women, yeah? ❞ He uttered. ❝ If I see you do as much as start a conversation with them, you won’t have a tongue to chat shit about me with. ❞

[michael.]

trigger warnings alcohol, death, lots of blood, profanity, heavy violence, religion. tags  45 years old, difficult/hard opponent, nonviolent interactions are open, pm or ask for violent interactions.

"speech" 'thought' text

To be fair to Mike, the man had seen a lot, done a lot, and been through a lot. Though that did not excuse the self destructive habits he had now, it at least explained them. While Cat had been in charge, Mike had actually managed to get clean, sober, have a semblance of his life back.

But they was a different era, and though it seemed ages ago, the detestation of Mike to his current state had taken less than a year to happen. His eyes rolled to the side as he heard the sound of footsteps. He couldn’t identify everyone’s footsteps in the Badlands, but there were a few he could. Teddy for one, Juliette for another, Micah a third and a handful of the members as well.

They all had distinct ways of walking, indicative towards their mental state. Juliettes walk exuded confidence. Teddy’s cocky indifference, Micah’s capability. His lips turned down into a sneer at Teddy’s first words, the alcohol coursing through his veins inhibiting any caution he might feel in sobriety.

Truth was, Mike untainted by alcohol was rare. He grimaced as Teddy grabbed his bottle and poured drink into a glass for himself. Shoulda gotten his own damn bottle the damn child. As Teddy continued to speak, Mike gaped, what kind of audacity was they. He coughed undiplomatically at Teddy’s accusation. Then pointed an angry finger at Teddy’s lithe frame.

"You..." His words slurred. "dont know what you’re talking about-" He paused jabbing a finger in Teddy’s general direction. "-boy." He pushed himself to his feet, unsteady as he struggled to find his bearings. Though drunk, he was by no means completely helpless.

"Maybe-" His voice was raised slightly, though a bit of uncertainty seeped into it, though whether it was directed at Teddy or not was unclear. "-maybe they talk to me because you’re such a self absorbed little brat. Maybe the talk to me because I listen instead of ignore. Maybe it’s bedside I don’t prattle on about how amazing and powerful I am. Maybe it’s because I don’t take them for granted or see them as disposable." His words slurred slightly and he raised his voice with every rendition of the word “maybe”.

"You’re a spoiled little prick." He continued, common sense totally gone from him at this moment. "You can’t command respect when you ooze unintelligent smarminess." He finished slamming his glass down so hard on the table that it shattered and alcohol mixed with blood pooled on the smooth surface of the table.

Mike didn’t seem to notice the small cuts on his fingers, and snatched at the bottle, drinking directly from it, as though that would get the bad taste of the conversation out of his mouth.