#lennon01

[n8-shaw]

Nate's mouth closed after she dropped the pill into it, swallowing it without bothering to find any sort of drink to chase it down, listening to Lennon with a faint expression of disinterest on his face. It was exaggerated, put on - but that's what she deserved, to be honest. "You throwing a pity party out here, then?" Nate said, eyebrows arching up on his forehead, a snort of laughter in the words. What could someone like Lennon Kent seriously have to be moping around about outside? "Least I'm the right person to you join you if you were looking for someone to play russian roulette with worse odds," he said dryly, the sarcasm audible as a crooked smirk flickered across his lips. But he wasn't really being that sarcastic - they say misery loves company, after all, and Nate was nothing if not miserable.

It isn’t always about what other people think. Lennon realized a long time ago that most people approached her with a preconceived notion of who she was and what her motivations were. In this case, as much as she would love for the molly to be laced with some sort of poisonous chemical, her motives were much more transparent. It would always be an exercise of control, of wondering just how much people trusted her despite knowing they probably shouldn’t. The brunette smiled sweetly, saccharine on her lips as she placed the first of the two blue smileys on Nate’s tongue. “Thank me all you want, buddy,” she hummed to herself. “I’m sure you wouldn’t be the only one. Though, plenty would prefer I take myself out, so who’s to say which pill I gave to you and which I took myself.” In every honest sense, Lennon wouldn’t be the type, but she knew that the things that had happened over the last six months were anything but honest or usual. Even tonight felt like it might veer off course if she let it.

[aiden-stevens]

It would make sense, if his stomach rejected the first two, Aiden would have done the same thing. Replenish the liquor lost. He mouths the word 'oh', a silent acknowledgment of realization despite how his vision seems spaced out ahead of him to an unseen mark. Searching his memory for the image of Lennon bent over the toilet is one lost on him, he's sure it shows on his face that he has not even a vague recollection.

"Ah, fuck you very much," Aiden half laughs, half scowls at the mention of often insufferable attitude. Considering Lennon quickly fell into stride with him in a night out has him believing he feels otherwise, so it is very easy to let it roll off his shoulders then. His amusement lingers long enough he barely catches the stretches of silence that falls between them. Mind muddled, it is just about lost on him, until he turns his head with a soft hum to regard Lennon with curiosity.

Not a second later down he barrel off into the topic of where to sleep, and Aiden's concern is instantly whisked away. "Might've gotten cold if we slept somewhere outside last night, though. We'd have had to spoon for warmth or something, and I'm not much of a cuddler." With a whine he leans forward when he feels a bout of nausea rise up in his stomach, and pressure threaten to swell behind his eyes.

"Dark, but I can appreciate the humor in it," Aiden groans from where his head hangs between his knees. "Like to hope it isn't too soon…"

"I did, that's why I needed the third," Lennon advised him, letting him on the madness he was piecing together. "It was better than the taste of whatever came up, I'll tell you that much. Also made you a wee bit tolerable once you got to a certain point."

When his sobriety comes into question, Lennon couldn't help the silence. It lingers even longer at the notion of being an older brother. Lennon wasn't suppose to be either one— sober or older. Every time he'd gone out, and the crawl back home began, he'd forget which was was right. Sometimes, losing control felt like the world was finally in balance. When he was stuck in the middle, pinned right in the comedown of it all, Lennon often struggled to remember which was the state he was suppose to be in. Then, he'd remember why he had to be in control because the loss had been the very reason he was responsible for what was left of his family instead of the brother who was long gone.

"I've had my fair share of sleeping where I shouldn't. Usually I prefer just someone else's bed, but as long as no one finds us and kicks us around, I wouldn't mind a nice plot of dirt," He smirked, shrug rolling from one shoulder to another as he looked out to the yard. "We'll end up there soon enough, yeah? Might as well get acquainted with it."

[mari-zuko]

Mari had stopped when Lennon flagged her down, her spine straight as she stood, tense, warily watching Greer’s roommate. Only for her to get distracted, apparently not even caring to pay attention to Mari despite being the one who initiated this conversation. She crossed her arms over her chest, fluttering her lashes at the annoyed sigh Lennon heaved, almost disbelieving at the way she was acting like this was putting her out. Mari would’ve been content to never acknowledge the other at all, considering what she had done last semester, the  paranoia and panic that she had caused in Mari not something she could even begin to explain. And of course, there wasn’t even an apology - not from Lennon Kent. “You know what would make me happy?” Mari said in a low voice, her eyebrows arching upwards. “If you hadn’t lobbed some baseless accusations at the cops. But it’s a little late for that, isn’t it?” she said, shaking her hair out of her shoulders as her chin lifted up a bit, continuing to act absolutely indignant at what she had said in her interview way back at the beginning of the year, despite the fact that it was the truth. It’s not like Lennon had any way to confirm that.

with – mari / @mari-zuko when – the week between winter break and classes starting, wednesday morningish where – the quad

“I just need you to acknowledge the fact that…” she drifts off, her words falling to pieces as she spots someone vaguely Greer-like across the quad. They are certainly the same height with that same long, blonde hair and the bouncy cadence of her steps. Over the years of sharing a room with her, the girl’s mannerisms are tattooed on the inside of Lennon’s mind. It takes a few beats, a few flutters of the brunette’s lengthy lashes to realize it is just some other perky blonde. The powerful thrumming of her nervous heart continues in her chest, almost stealing her breath even though the danger has proven itself false.

“Sorry, what was I saying?” Lennon asks, waving a hand through the air. Every last thought she had has fled her mind and she simply sighs in Mari’s direction. “I just think that this whole thing has gotten so fucking twisted up and, like, can’t we just go into this semester with a clean slate? Surely that would make both of us happy.”

[sassa-fiske]

lennonkent​:

There’s a fine line to toe at all times in this godforsaken place, but even still, Lennon feels the kind of kinship with Sassa that she often isn’t able to at Ogden. There’s a slight relaxing of her shoulders in her presence, an amount of comfort she is so rarely afforded. A soft flip of her stomach alerts her to the fact that this may not be her best idea, but she needs a minute of peace in the midst of what their world has turned into lately. She doesn’t look over her own shoulder, simply grinning at her friend’s teasing. “I look good enough that they should be following me around, shouldn’t they?” she winks, listening closely to Sassa’s words. Lennon isn’t one to think too much about the new year in terms of goals, but she thinks she might understand what the other girl is saying. “Expectations are the root of all evil,” Len laughs, shaking her head. “Maybe it’s better to go into the night with none whatsoever. No reason to hate the night if it’s the same as all the rest.”

-

"They absolutely should," Sassa agreed, flashing Lennon a conspiratorial smile, one eyebrow arching upwards on her forehead. The summary given by Lennon seemed to wrap it all up, Sassa clucking her tongue in agreement as she considered, before finally shrugging up her shoulders. “That’s not a bad idea, I suppose” she mused, letting her eyes cast downwards. Sassa lapsed into silence for a moment, tapping her nails against the bar top, before lifting her face back to Lennon, her smile noticeably brighter. “Cheers to just another night then?” she said, lifting up her glass towards the other girl with the proposition. 

[n8-shaw]

Was Lennon someone he actually liked? Not particularly. But Nate did feel like at least knew her to some degree - at least knew some of what she liked behind closed doors. So he’d trust her judgement, at least when it came to recreational substances. Even still, he let his hand drop back to his side, looking at Lennon for a few long moments. His eyes flickered back and forth between her hand lifted and the smirk on her face before he stepped forward to close the distance between them. “At this point, I might thank you for poisoning me,” he said, no longer blinking his eyes away from hers, instead holding his gaze steady as he opened his mouth up, so she could give him her poison of choice.  

Reputations can be difficult to uphold, but Lennon Kent has become rather well versed in it over the years. Ogden is far from a black hole, but somehow secrets stay hidden and very little seems to get out, until recently, of course. In order to keep things under wraps, despite her absolute love of the spotlight, Lennon forces herself to be at least minutely private in her enjoyment of recreational substances. Hence standing outside in the snow to have a pick me up. Having someone join her, especially that someone being fucking Nate Shaw... well, that isn't exactly ideal. With a roll of her eyes, she slips her fingers into the small baggy and retrieves the pill. She pauses with it lifted in the air and smirks, tilting her head at the man.

"Open up," Lennon demands, motioning with her hand for him to drop his jaw and let her slip the smiley face onto his tongue. "I like to poison my victims myself," a beat passes and her gaze levels his, smirk widening into a smile. "Makes the kill more worthwhile."

[n8-shaw]

Nate had been about to light up another joint, tucked away into the corner of the chalet where he could get some quiet, when he heard footsteps approaching - unaware of who it was, but hearing the chattering high pitched voices, he got up, tucking the joint behind his ear, slipping outside instead. The door was already swinging shut behind him when his eyes settled onto Lennon. His upper lip curled, not having expected anyone to be out there, let alone her, ready to fire off some retort when she held up the small baggy with the pills.

He considered for a moment, the desire to get high and yet the annoyance of having to deal with her presence in order to do so, trying to decide if it was worth it. ....and yeah. It was.

"Hand it over," he said, taking a few steps towards Lennon, hand already held out for the pill, flashing a smirk at the brunette.

who: open starter when: nye gala after party where: chalet c

the flakes of snow seem to be getting heavier, wetter, weighed down by the ever-chilling air. it's not as cold as she expects it to be when she steps outside, her knowledge of science too limited to recall that if it's too cold, it won't snow. as the world around the chalet seems to be blanketed with more and more snow, the young brunette tucks herself against the wall of the building. on her way out of the chalet, she had spotted at least three people without shirts on and plenty more whose grinding was getting awfully close to something else. if she allows the jealousy to continue to ramp up, lennon is all too aware of just how sideways her fucking night can go. the alcohol from ringing in the new year isn't enough to curb her mood. instead, she slips her fingers into the side of her dress, tugging out a small baggy with two little pills inside. just as she opens it, the back door of the chalet creaks open, her eyes lifting to land upon the incoming presence. when she recognizes them, lennon raises a brow.

"you can either join me or you can turn around and head right back inside," she demands, gaze drinking them in as she holds up the two pills marked with smiley faces. "what'll it be?"

[aiden-stevens]

It isn't something he hasn't heard time and time before. All from those he can consider friends with more years under their belts, warnings given that eventually, if Aiden isn't careful, he'll be dealing with the result of aging. Include in that the consequences of poor decision making in regards to his own health - chain-smoking, drinking more often than not, the occasional recreational drug use along with living off of Monsters and eating sporadically - his thirties are going to hit him full force. Like a sixteen-wheeler speeding down the highway with its brake lines cut.

Leaning back on the heel of his palm, Aiden's neck cranes back to look at the remnants of the night sky. "Figure it might be catching up to me now… sometimes. I still get carded at the bar but-" considering most days he is tired or his knees and hips hurt, it really might be less about aging and more about his poor self care routine. Virtually nonexistent, Aiden can at least insist that he flosses regularly. How many adults can say that?

"Three?!" He is quick to lean forward, giving Lennon an incredulous look. "All back to back? And you didn't hurl?" It seems Aiden remembers less than he originally thought. Not that he minds having bought Lennon three more 100 proof shots, whatever his bank statement has to say about last night is not his concern. He'd buy him three more without question just out of appreciation for the time spent out. "Are you still drunk right now?"

Which is a fair question considering how early it is still, and Aiden has absolutely no recollection of what time they turned in. The joint finds its way back between the grin on Aiden's lips then. He smacks the side of his knee with the back of his hand. "Think it's just something that comes natural to you being an older brother." Most times it works out that way for anyone who just naturally keeps an eye out others, so it's Aiden's assumption. One that he thinks is fair.

"One of these days I'll have to be that for you, considering all the times you got me... to some shelter with a place to sleep." Be it his own home or here, on the couch. "Can't make any promises. Think if it was up to me, we'd find a nice ditch to go nap in. Survival instinct is nearly nonexistent when Jack's involved." @gcldengrime

The joint that singes the air is a habit he has yet to get rid of, but it's not a kind of high Lennon's ever craved. The strongest drug had always been control, and he found it enthralling because it was the one thing that could never be his.

Lennon had never wanted to come to America, never wanted to look for his father or family, never wanted to be stuck without his mother, to change foster homes, to be separated from his siblings— to lose Reagan, to nearly lose Liam, to nearly lose them all. When he went under, at least he could finally accept that there was a damn thing he could do.

Now, he took control differently. To be alert, and to be invested, was a better high than he could ever imagine. Lennon knew he twisted the virtue into a vice, but it couldn't have been worse than what he used to do. He had a point to prove that he could save them all. Sometimes, a few puffs here and there let him accept when he'd run into a wall. It forced him to lick his wounds, and a little nightly outing at the bar allowed him to clean them out and start again.

"It's part of growing up, Aiden, you'll be there soon enough. The feckin' heartburn catches up to you. One minute you can down as much as you want in a single go, and then one night you wake up with a hangover just from sleepin' the wrong way," Lennon warned him. "Though, with time, you know how to avoid it, too— which is why it was three."

His smirk ripples along his cheek, and he leans back against the steps pleased with himself. For a moment, he'd been worried he'd forgotten about last night but all he needed was a small reminder to let the pieces fall into place.

"Someone had to make sure we had a place to go when they kicked us out, alright?" He pointed out. "And as your elder, I took it upon myself."

[aiden-stevens]

"Aw, what a little bitch-" Aiden pushes a bony elbow into Lennon's ribcage and relieves him of the joint. "Like I said, I can walk if you need to tuck yourself back to bed." No risks of a WUI when he technically isn't intoxicated anymore, but the spins definitely might make it difficult either way. He could always bother Connor - Aiden likes to make himself Connor's problem.

The skunk smell is somewhat nauseating, but it will do well to stave off the migraine that threatens to wrap tight around his skull. His mouth already feels like he's been sucking on a plethora of cotton balls all night, so the harsh burn from the smoke does well to further agitate the back of his throat.

Aiden's dark eyes, semi-bloodshot no doubt, shift over to Lennon, brows raised. "You said it, not me. I'm half your size, and I think I outdrank you. What's that shit?" It does bring a bout of laughter that falls from his mouth. "Guess I can't be mad about you being a cheap date. Might also be because you're in your thirties. It's like having one toe in the grave or something." Shirking any responsibility for the fact Aiden had been a poor influence the evening before, but how could he not be?

"You shoulda passed on that shot of Rumple Minze before last call." Aiden's grin fades in the slightest, his gaze shifts to the ground at their feet, and he tries to remember more clearly. "Or… was it two shots? Did I get you two?"

There's a threat for the consequences of his actions that linger just between his eyes. A sharp little sting when he looks up at the blue that brightens every so slightly is the small reminder that a hangover is underway, but for now, Lennon takes his sobriety with the bitter taste in his mouth happily. A few more puffs, and he won't taste it anymore, let alone feel it.

"Shouldn't finish the whole thing myself, it's been a while. If I do, we're both stuck here," He said, words of wisdom hardly ever muttered in Aiden's direction.

When they crossed paths, it wasn't usually with intention. Both men just seemed to bleed into the other's mess until it became a habit, and the scene of the crime combined into enough chaos that no one seemed to know who to blame. At the very least, they got good at keeping things somewhat tidy to avoid getting banned from every bar in town.

"My tolerance isn't what it used to be," Lennon admitted with a sigh. "Keeps things cheap, though, so I can't complain."

[aiden-stevens]

When he wakes, he's greeted by the pounding of his heart and the start of a headache that might later threaten to split his head in half. The sugar from the hard liquor consumed gives him a surge of energy that he knows from experience will make it impossible to fall back to sleep. So Aiden, with a groan and a Hell of a struggle to stand he is back on his feet.

He finds Lennon where he expects to find him, already sat outside, and Aiden slips out to the patio with a yawn. "I didn't want to… all aboard the hangover train- choo choo," he groans, voice groggy and hoarse from all the talking and good times from the night before. Fuck, Aiden can't remember the last time he had such a good time. "If you're offering, I mean…" He takes the liberty to sit down beside Lennon, shoulders slumped and eyes bleary while he stares on straight ahead to nothing in particular.

"Not sure if you want to leave just yet..." Not with the way his head spins and stomach churns. "Motion sickness might be a risk if we go soon. Might need… a few minutes."

open to: aiden stevens | @aidenxstevens location: lennon's place

The sky had yet to be bleed into by the sun, but Lennon knew it was only a matter of time. He'd been good— yes, good, he believed he could carry that title at least for this— and tucked himself away every night for at least six hours of sleep. He'd had discipline, and he broke it only when Liam beckoned him with a twisted feeling in his gut that something was wrong.

Tonight, however, Lennon had allowed a small crack. He'd patch it over with guilt the next night, but there was a part of him that challenged that. It didn't feel as wrong as he believed it should have been to turn back to his old ways. There was something about the way his stomach hurt in a good way after so many laughs, how the sting on his lip as he wrapped them around the joint cracked a smirk.

"Good mornin', princess," He said, head turned back to the screech of glass doors into the patio. "I was wondering if you were ever going to wake up. You need a ride?"