Van(der)
banner
bloodiedhound.bsky.social
Van(der)
@bloodiedhound.bsky.social
52 followers 87 following 540 posts
DO NOT FORGET WHAT I AM. ____________________ roleplay. young pit fighter vander au. written by berry.
Posts Media Videos Starter Packs
Pinned
๐™Ž๐™ค๐™ข๐™š๐™ฉ๐™ž๐™ข๐™š๐™จ ๐™„ ๐™˜๐™–๐™ฃ๐™ฃ๐™ค๐™ฉ ๐™ฉ๐™–๐™ ๐™š ๐™ฉ๐™๐™ž๐™จ ๐™ฅ๐™ก๐™–๐™˜๐™š
๐™Ž๐™ค๐™ข๐™š๐™ฉ๐™ž๐™ข๐™š๐™จ ๐™ž๐™ฉ'๐™จ ๐™ข๐™ฎ ๐™ก๐™ž๐™›๐™š ๐™„ ๐™˜๐™–๐™ฃ'๐™ฉ ๐™ฉ๐™–๐™จ๐™ฉ๐™š
๐™Ž๐™ค๐™ข๐™š๐™ฉ๐™ž๐™ข๐™š๐™จ ๐™„ ๐™˜๐™–๐™ฃ๐™ฃ๐™ค๐™ฉ ๐™›๐™š๐™š๐™ก ๐™ข๐™ฎ ๐™›๐™–๐™˜๐™š
๐™”๐™ค๐™ช'๐™ก๐™ก ๐™ฃ๐™š๐™ซ๐™š๐™ง ๐™จ๐™š๐™š ๐™ข๐™š ๐™›๐™–๐™ก๐™ก ๐™›๐™ง๐™ค๐™ข ๐™œ๐™ง๐™–๐™˜๐™š
HA. Will he?

Shirt back on. An exaggerated, looow โœจbowโœจ before he leaves him to his daydreaming.
pausing mid-dressing.

side eyeing him.

โ“
alright that's enough time to put his shirt back on it's still kinda chillyโ€”
Flexing for no reason aaat all.
// by @/lileee !!
... or whatever it is they say nowadays.
another (sun)day, another slay.
the sweat from his brow, inspecting his work.

โ€œThink thatโ€™ll hold?โ€ Harlan asks, dubious.

Vander claps him on the shoulder, standing, a smirk on his face. โ€œNot even a little.โ€

Greer snorts. โ€œGuess weโ€™ll find out the fun way.โ€
floorboard, checking for weak spots. โ€œYou two best hurry. Ainโ€™t got all day to babysit you.โ€

Vander twists the wrench, gritting his teeth as the rusted bolt resists. His forearms strain, but with a sharp creak, the pipe gives way just enough for him to jam a sealant patch over the crack. He wipes โ€”
above. โ€œWe should just patch it and pretend we didnโ€™t see it.โ€

Vander huffs. โ€œAnd when it floods mid-shift? You planninโ€™ on swimminโ€™ to the stockroom?โ€

Harlan grumbles something under his breath, but kneels beside him anyway, passing over the wrench.

Across the room, Greer kicks at a loose โ€”
The Drop isnโ€™t open yet, but itโ€™s never really quiet. Vander crouches near the bar, sleeves rolled up, hands braced against a heavy pipe running along the wall. A slow, steady [ drip ] echoes against the floorboards.

โ€œThis is a shit job,โ€ Harlan mutters, arms crossed as he watches from โ€”
๐Ÿ˜Œโค๏ธ.
<โ€” Fuckin fell asleep. Of course he would.
Thatโ€”was one trial too many, oof. Gonna plop down in a booth and rest his eyes for a few minutes. Or more.
Humming whatever tunes come from the jukebox as he makes notes in a little notebook. Next to it, on the bar, an array of bottles and tumblers and shakers and a generous amount of ice cubes.

He's been testing new ideas, coming up with new mixes, seeing what's good or not so much.
Thatโ€”was one trial too many, oof. Gonna plop down in a booth and rest his eyes for a few minutes. Or more.
Humming whatever tunes come from the jukebox as he makes notes in a little notebook. Next to it, on the bar, an array of bottles and tumblers and shakers and a generous amount of ice cubes.

He's been testing new ideas, coming up with new mixes, seeing what's good or not so much.
Humming whatever tunes come from the jukebox as he makes notes in a little notebook. Next to it, on the bar, an array of bottles and tumblers and shakers and a generous amount of ice cubes.

He's been testing new ideas, coming up with new mixes, seeing what's good or not so much.