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[pjbogden-blog]

Actual photo of me hungover every Sunday.

[pjbogden-blog]

Born Again | Asher + PJ

@ashcrking

There wasn’t much nuance to PJ when he’d reached the threshold of proper inebriation. No subtle grins, not much to do in the way of ending small talk that would inevitably turn into something larger, & certainly no shortage of rounds purchased. PJ was neither a mean drunk nor a sad drunk. He was simply himself -- less constrained by moral & societal regulations. 

Stepping out onto Bourbon, PJ looked down long enough to see that his skin had broken out in gooseflesh. Ignoring the slight chill long enough to look at the face of his Timex, PJ righted his direction. He’d started early but only because his shift ended before Ash’s & more importantly because he had nothing better to in the Quarter than partake in some mild libations. 

Head buzzing pleasantly, he walked in a relatively straight line, moving here or there out of the way of a vendor or tourist before he came to the doors of the Boondock Saint. They were propped open invitingly. Mirth spilled out from the occupants & PJ smiled toothily to himself. 

“Uh, excuse me -” PJ started, some air of normalcy returning to him thanks to the change of scenery the bar provided. (The fresh air hadn’t hurt either.) “But I showed up three minutes early & it’s expected that I maintain the position of being the most courteous & responsibility here.” He breathed but was quick to correct himself. “Responsible!” He said, waving off the slip of his tongue as he clapped Asher on the shoulder. It was impossible to not have a good time in such company & truth be told, PJ had been looking forward to this little meet up for the past day & a half, convinced that whatever trouble they could sniff out, it couldn’t get that bad. Two grown-ass men. Enough bourbon to baptize themselves in. By God, they could be born again. Wake up with record breaking hangovers & sober up long enough just to do it all over again.

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silasatwater:

                     He laughed— how could he not? The situation was hilarious to him, and if Silas was honest, he wasn’t even mad. Sure, PJ might’ve annoyed him from time to time, but if he were the type to have a stick up his ass, he wouldn’t be sticking around, laughing. “Well, I guess I should destroy all those ‘banned’ flyers now that there’s an actual reason to your ‘poking around’,” he joked, before taking a sip from his bottle. “I do— I mean, I’ve been working there since I was, like, fourteen or somethin’. ‘S been a long time, it just feels like forever.”

“It’d be a shame to waste all that paper though.“ PJ grinned in the most good-natured of ways. “Wow,” PJ looked equal parts taken aback & impressed. “Your parents own the place or?” He asked curiously before tucking into his glass.

[pjbogden-blog]

✧ NAME: P.J. Bogden ✧ AGE: 35 ✧ GENDER: Male ✧ LOCATION: Marigny ✧ TIME IN NOLA: Since birth ✧ OCCUPATION: Tour Guide

TW: Death

Semper alacer. Semper alacer. Semper alacer.

It’s a widely known fact that most people, at one point or another, believe that they’d been raised in an unconventional way. PJ Bogden would’ve argued the opposite. He’d been raised in a conventional fashion in a most unconventional place. Though, to him, New Orleans would always be home.

The only son of hotel managers, Rita & Fletcher Bogden, PJ grew up in a humble home, but was regularly treated to long days spent at the French Quarter landmark. In truth, Rita ran the Hotel Monteleone whilst his father was an event coordinator & amateur barman. Raised by two equally enthusiastic & enlightened individuals, it was no surprise that PJ held lofty aspirations when it came to higher learning. By the summer of his senior year, PJ had been accepted to the history program at Columbia. Pride outweighed his parents’ reluctance to see their boy leave the Crescent City. That day, however, never came. The details of the Bogden’s deaths were never clandestine. They’d been struck by a drunk driver. That was it. There was nothing more to say on the subject.

Understandably shaken by his parents passing, PJ forewent leaving the city. After four years, he received his degree from Tulane still very much the same boy he’d always been. Always enthusiastic. He politely refused to be downtrodden by the tragic page of his own past, & instead had made a singular deal with himself after: he would never drink. & while that lofty promise lasted him through most of college, he eventually stepped off the wagon. Though, he can surely say it did help in his freshman & sophomore years that he was never the one to show up to baseball practice hungover or looking particularly pathetic after a night on Bourbon Street; even an optimistic individual occasionally needed a drink after looking at the degree in history one had hanging on their wall.

Little could be said of what exactly PJ did with his formal education. History had always been his first love, but teaching - not so much. He forewent that route & instead became an overly knowledgeable bartender. Better at it than he could remember his father ever being, PJ’s sarcasm & goodwill meshed well with the rowdy clientele, made up of predominantly tourists, which frequented The Old Absinthe House. A major draw for PJ, however, had been the access to free & frankly, to die for, seafood.

Eventually outgrowing the place, he left only after someone tipped him off on an idea that had never even occurred to him: he’d make a great guide of the city. Throwing resumes at companies around town, PJ had his pick & settled on one that allowed him a few options. Largely a fan of doing the haunted history tours, for the pure hilarity, as well as the historic walks, PJ appears to have found his calling. A little booze, a little history & a lot of charm goes a long way. The other three days of the week, PJ simply soaks up the city. His routine strolls around the city can be quaint but are wholly necessary to his own peace of mind. He loves his city & the history it has & all the people that are experiencing it with him more than he can describe in words. He is beyond content.

Through & through, PJ is a happy-go-lucky sort of man. He’s smart, but not superior. Observant, enthusiastic & friendly, PJ is likely to be popular wherever he goes. He’s an excellent conversationalist & loves to share, & even more so, he loves to listen. Chalk-full of potential, Bogden is simply a fun guy to be around. He’s got a great sense of humor & undoubtedly doesn’t have a true bad bone in his body. This tends to make PJ quite impulsive. He’s quick to trust & therefore can get hurt quite easily. He is, however, gifted at hiding his anxieties with humor. He carries an undercurrent of guilt with him at all times for giving into regular libations. Occasionally, he stays up wondering if he deserves to be so happy when he’s lost so much, but usually can get out from underneath these drearier feelings by distracting himself with the noise of the city.

P.J’s faceclaim is Ryan Reynolds and is portrayed by Warner.

[pjbogden-blog]

silasatwater:

               “—–PJ,” he recalls, nodding as his interest in the matter peaked, immensely. “Right, the guy who knows how to do my job, apparently.” He wasn’t all that serious because while Silas took his job seriously, it didn’t mean he knew everything about flowers and plants. “So, what’s the deal with all that anyway? Are you ‘low-key’, indirectly asking for a job at Fleurs? Or just a flower enthusiast?”

PJ looked sheepishly at the ground for a moment, knowing he was fully guilty even if he hadn’t been trying to be an ass the number of times he had gone into Fleurs. He was nothing if not self-aware. “No, no, I’ve just got an interest in the niche I guess.“ He laughed off the prospect. “Y’all hiring?“ He asked with a chuckle before waving of the notion entirely. “I guess I’ve just been garnering a weird knowledge ever since I was a kid. I’m not too good at keeping things alive, but my parents were kinda botanical growing up. What about you? No stake in the plant game?“

[pjbogden-blog]

silasatwater:

             “—Well, I don’t own it, but yeah, I work there. Are you a regular? Or I’m just too oblivious to tell behind the voice and mask?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m a regular or anything, but I’ve stopped by a few times just to check it out. Now that I’m thinking about it, we’ve definitely met before. Tall, white dude, normally doesn’t buy anything, annoys everyone that works there. PJ.“

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silasatwater:

                  He snorted a bit, grinning wide. “Uh– yeah, my mom’s kinda… religious, I guess.” The subject was sore, but there was no hurt in mentioning her. After all, it felt slightly liberating to mention her in such a nostalgic way. “Marigny,” he answered with a chuckle, shrugging as though their similarities thus far was just ridiculous at this point. “Never been out, honestly.”

“No way. Really?“ Their lack of familiarity in such close proximity semi-astounded the man. “Wait, you don’t happen to own that flower shop off of uh - Bloom Fleur? Is it Fleur Bloom?“

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whatever-catalina:

“Alright, then you’ve slightly redeemed yourself. But I still think small talk is disgusting.”

“To each his own. Although, we are practically doing an advanced form of it right here. & it’s not physically painful yet I don’t think.“

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whatever-catalina:

“You, specifically you, are everything that is wrong with the world. But honestly, if somebody is listening to music on a bus, that’s basically them wearing a sign that says ‘leave me the fuck alone or get punched in the throat’.”

“I’d apologize but... Now, if someone’s wearing headphones I’m not gonna bother them. I just like small talk evidently.“

[pjbogden-blog]

👀 Have you ever been in love? If so tell us about it

“Not since I was like fifteen anyway.“

[pjbogden-blog]

👀 + your best and worst childhood memories

“Best would probably be our summer trips to Ft. Lauderdale. Worst... hm. Well to avoid the obvious, probably the time my parents got super drunk & fought like hell at the hotel in front of everyone. Ended with my dad asking me who I wanted to live with. Luckily a divorce never actually transpired.“

[pjbogden-blog]

What do you look for in a significant other? 👀

“Usually hair, but that’s not a deal breaker. Confidence is good. Not being gluten free is a plus; I have a life to live, y’know?“

[pjbogden-blog]

cassandraxsinclair:

She couldn’t deny that the tour was short, but she could laugh at the idea that she was ever going to let him get past the shop without making at pit stop at the very least. The fact that he held the trash can open for her drink was sign enough that they wouldn’t be leaving, which was fine with her. This way, she could put on some pajamas and relax rather than wandering around the city in skinny jeans, a t-shirt and a leather jacket. 

She laughed genuinely and unabashedly when he indicated that the word ‘IKEA’ was triggering. Sure, she’d made him assemble plenty of furniture before but she didn’t think it had affected him so negatively. Still, she laughed as she locked the door behind him and indicated the staris that were usually roped off with some twine.  ❝As long as you don’t mind seeing furniture from ‘that place,’ then we’re golden.❞

Once the pair was upstairs, Cassandra had a chance to kick her shoes off and let all the tension of the day melt out of herself. With just one long stretch, she was good to go. It took no time at all before she was tossing her jacket onto the floor; she didn’t give half a shit as long as she ended up in the kitchen quickly. When she did finally emerge, it was with a bottle of wax-sealed bourbon and a smile on her face.

❝You’re not still concerned about cooties, are you? Because I can get you a glass, if you are.❞ She wouldn’t. That was evidenced by her quick uncoiling of red wax from the bottle, the cap unscrewing soon afterward. Once she had taken a nice swig of bourbon, Cass held the bottle out to her company.  ❝Here. Take this and get a drink. I wanna change into something comfortable before I pass out.❞

How tempered he must’ve been. A master of some ancient form of meditation to escape Cass’ place without her catching onto the fact that he’d ever been frustrated. “Nah, that’s fine. I’m completely over it.” He said, shooting an obvious & fast glance back at her before settling on a genuine smile as he slid over the rope. “That thing should be velvet. It’d really class up the joint.” He commented as he ascended the stairs. 

“Jeez, act like you own the place why don’t you.” He said, moving to the window as he spoke & she lost an article or two. Lifting a closed shutter with the tip of his finger, he looked out at the street & smirked despite his jealousy of the view Cass had commandeered for herself. Dropping it back into place, he was relieved to turn & see the bottle in Cass’ hand. 

“No, my vaccinations are all up to date.” He assured her as he stepped forward to receive the bottle. “Take your time.” He offered, drumming his fingers against the neck of the bottle before stepping back towards the window. He played with the blinds for another moment between stiff pulls before meandering into the living room & taking a seat on the couch. Slouching into his seat he reached for the remote & flipped the TV on. The tail end of a home restoration show glinted off the bottom of the bottle. As it lowered, PJ looked content to find the television on the same channel he’d left it on the last time he’d been over. With his eyes still on the TV, he set the bourbon on the coffee table & blindly found his shoelaces to pull them apart. Neatly, he set them beside one another just adjacent to his socked feet. “I said take your time but I may drink you dry.” He called, though he’d slowed on his pulls off the bottle sense taking a seat. He did rather enjoy Cass’ place. Its convenience was undeniable but Cass’ personality seeped into the apartment & he could appreciate her style. She probably needed a pet, he often considered but would always stop that flow of thought by remembering how neglected it would wind up. Even he had once tried to keep fish. He’d watched them all take a counterclockwise ride in the toilet bowl. A cat surely wouldn’t fit down Cass’ pipes.

you, me & the bottle | Cass & PJ

[pjbogden-blog]

cassandraxsinclair:

❝Of course they’re someone else’s pants. When have you ever fuckin’ left something at my house?❞ Her brow furrowed, elbow slamming into him as if to demand that he counter her argument while she sucked her drink through her straw. ❝You’ve not gotta wear ‘em, but we’ll need to stop somewhere and get you some clothes if you’re that goddamn sensitive.❞ 

Any commentary about her belching was met with a wide grin; there was no denying that booze made her acid reflux flare up in a way that created fucking nuclear burps. Poor PJ just happened to be the recepient, to which she could only say,  ❝If you can taste the ingredients, then you should probably write ‘em down.❞  Not that he needed help formulating cocktails.

She was equally proud that she had finished her drink, but pouting as soon as PJ commandeered the receipt. It wasn’t the first time something like that happened, and it wouldn’t be the last; still, she tried her best to make a mental note about paying him back in due time and in some way other than money. Still yet, she allowed him to deal with their tabs and entered the chilled night air alongside him. 

It wasn’t long before her arm was looped through his, her mouth firmly clamped around her straw while she nodded toward anything he said about Bourbon Street. Only when he passed her shop did she stop, looking into the vacant windows as excitedly as she had seen so many tourists do before.

❝Well, I’ve got on good authority that she’s a great and genuine psychic, ❞ As she spoke, her free hand began fishing through her back pocket before she procured a key that was dangled between the two of them. ❝They’ve got coffee upstairs if you wanna check it out. I’ve heard her apartment is sponsored by Ikea and Bed, Bath & Beyond.❞

“Do you?“ PJ asked, skeptical. “I’m sure her Yelp page reflects your views. I’ve never seen an angry customer in all honesty. I may be a skeptic but you can’t deny the appeal.“ He said, grabbing for his straw & missing it with his lips the first time. 

“Damn, two sponsorship deals?“ He asked, speaking around the straw. “Are we talking about Folgers or Starbucks?“ He asked, brow rising. “& also, what the hell? That was the shortest tour ever. -- You know what? I’m not even going to complain.“ He expected to get progressively more belligerent & wander around the Quarter but his home in Marginy was a good distance away from the convenient located Cafe Obscura.  

“Fuck it, I’m sold!“ He said, straw rattling against the lack of content in his cup. “If you don’t have any booze up there though we gon’ need a pitstop.“ He said, stepping forward past her airplane director arm. On the way off the street he lifted the lid of the trash bin & threw his cup away, keeping propped up for Cass. If she wasn’t finished already, she’d have to hurry. 

“& please never say the word IKEA around me again. You know it’s triggering for me.” He could instantly conjure up the image of himself helping put together furniture at Cass’ apartment when she’d decided didn’t want the shit that had come with the place. It had been a nightmare, one in which PJ had to at pretend he was infuriated with the whole country of Sweden. It was equal parts comforting & aggravating that he’d built the couch he’d be sleeping on.

you, me & the bottle | Cass & PJ

[pjbogden-blog]

cassandraxsinclair:

❝I know that, dipshit! I’m trying to be topical. Mayweather is gonna win – - everybody knows it.❞ In fact, Cass had money on it. Whether her faith was misguided or not was yet to be determined, but she was currently content to etch away at her drink until there was nothing left. PJ was talking and that gave her enough time to drain half her glass, scrunch her nose and suck in a deep breath all before she even had to respond to whateverthefuck he said.

❝It’s fine if you wanna stay at my place. Some fuck left his sweats there once and I’ve had ‘em ever since, so you can wear those.❞ She didn’t expect he would, but she kept the offer open. Cass had to take a minute to belch (like a goddamn lady, through her nose and with a great amount of effort) before she set off to finish the last half of her drink. ❝I do want a taste! I mean, that’s the least you can do! I’ve been givin’ your customers quality psychic readings for a long time.❞   

Really, she didn’t expect it; she didn’t even expect that he’d allow her on the bus when she inevitably showed up. But soon enough, he mentioned getting out of the bar in order for her to have a little bit of a tour back to one or the other’s home.  ❝Yes! One grenade and then I’d better be seeing New Orleans in a way I’ve never seen it before.❞ She didn’t need more prompting to signal the bartender over, to order a hand grenade for herself and her guest. By the time that the bartender returned, she was already well on her way to squaring away her tab.  

Once both drinks were in front of them, Cass lifted her cocktail with an absolutely elated grin, ❝To your tour! This better be good, PJ. Drink fast; I don’t wanna waste any more time in here now that you’re gonna show me around the city.❞

Displeasure written all over his features, he swung his head back & forth. “Mayweather? Oh god. You’re gonna lose money on that bet. You & everybody else.“ He clicked his tongue. “It’s fine, just makes the pot bigger for me.“ He lifted his shoulders. Unlike his comrade, he did not have money on the fight because he was not a degenerate gambler. Not when he was sober anyway. Drunk PJ would bet on the wrong side of traffic light turning green. 

“I can’t tell if I’m the fuck in question or you really expect me to put on another man’s pants.“ He’d stay over but fuck those pants. “Christ, I can smell that. I smell every ingredient.“ PJ’s nose was scrunched in the aftermath of Cass’ burp. “I can taste it.“ He said, slapping his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Washing the flavor down with a drink from his own glass, he submitted. “You’ll get your money’s worth tonight, then you won’t have to come next week. How about that? Two birds, one beautiful stone.“ He tried out the bargain but knew she’d reject it. He downed the contents of his glass, snatched Cass’ receipt & in a matter of moments had the cheesy plastic cup in his hand. New Orleans was a magical place. “Put your drink back down & let’s get out of here.“ He said refusing her sarcastic toast & promptly walked onto the street, straw stuck into the corner of his mouth as if it were an upside down snorkel. 

Outside it was ten times cooler. His t-shirt clung to his back but it hand’t bothered him until he noticed the breeze. He drank happily from his grenade green cup & stopped off the curb happy as clam. The street was far from empty but the foot traffic wasn’t terrible. “Well this is Bourbon Street & as you can see there is now law about open liquor containers in our fair city.” For emphasis, he took another drink, eyes clamping closed as brain freeze held him stiff for a moment. “Ahem, no walk with me please. Over there you’ll find a phoney psychic. Don’t worry, she’s not in. Rarely is. Dunno how the place stays open - oh wait, yes I do. Some handsome fella corrals people in there like it’s his goddamn job. Funnily enough, they do not serve coffee.”

you, me & the bottle | Cass & PJ

[pjbogden-blog]

👀 are you close to your family/parents?

“Pretty close. Less than four blocks close.“