your bartender

anonymous asked:

I hate that I can't even enjoy Octagon in fics now. Modern Day AU Octavia rolls her eyes and talks about how Bell is such a loser. Me: "You need to shut your bitch ass up and start appreciating your brother who is bartending, working at a coffee shop, AND picking up nude modeling jobs on Craigslist to try to better your life!"

SFDLKGSLDGS’’;GDF/H;MFLGL[FD,L;LGF;

imagine kai as your bartender.

Originally posted by jonginization

  • you came for the quiet, and stayed for the atmosphere.
  • at least that’s what you tell yourself.
  • you certainly didn’t come here for the company.
  • and by company i mean the irresistibly charming, incredibly handsome, and persistently nosy bartender who’s always peaking at your notes.
  • you just wanted a quiet place to write.
  • the lighting is pretty bad late in the evenings, but the quiet jazz that drifts through the establishment is soothing, and not as distracting to your writing as you thought it might be.
  • not as distracting as kai’s constant humming, singing, and occasional tap-dancing from behind the bar or weaving in between tables.
  • so you stay.
  • and eventually you fall into a habit of seeking this place out at least once a week, and staying, sometimes all night.
  • writing, like everything else, becomes easier with practice, becomes a habit like any other and in the end the bar seems to bring the writing out of you all by itself.
  • you stay because it’s effortless.
  • whenever you’re stuck, you’ve written yourself into a corner, you’re lost or just uninspired all you have to do is sit for a while and give yourself time to think. just close your eyes and wait.
  • old jazz standards inspire you mostly to write romance. 
  • sarah vaughan and peggy lee place words in your character’s mouths. 
  • and more often than not you find yourself glancing to the bartender for a description, a characteristic.
  • one male lead may get his hands, another his nose. you give one love interest his soft shapely lips, another his laugh. there’s even an antagonist with his jawline.
  • and all the while you have to scowl and shoo and scold him for trying to spy on your indulgent scribbles.
  • he’s not a friend exactly, you’ve never met him outside this place, but you laugh and joke and you’d maybe consider him a good acquaintance.
  • one evening nearing valentine’s day he comes over with a glass of red wine and his lips pressed into a mysterious line.
  • “from a secret admirer.” he explains with a half-smile and a cocked brow.
  • there’s a note too.
  • “you’re lovely.” it reads.
  • spoiler alert: it’s from him.
  • and you’re completely oblivious, wondering who’s eye you’ve caught.
  • you became so comfortable here you didn’t think of it as “going out” and weren’t expecting for anybody to try and pick you up.
  • yet here you are.
  • but no more drinks or notes come that night and no one approaches you and you pretty much forget about it after a few more uneventful evenings.
  • then there’s another note carrying a similar sentiment.
  • signed, “jongin”.
  • you don’t know a jongin. 
  • you only know kai.
  • you’ve spoken to a few of the pianists that come through on the nights there’s live music, even exchanged a few words with a handsome saxophonist, maybe it’s one of them?
  • you ask kai and he laughs, “i’ll give you a hint.”
  • and that way you begin a game of twenty questions, one each evening you spend at the bar, with him.
  • it takes you an embarrassingly long time to catch on, and in the meanwhile the notes keep coming, each more charming than the next.
  • and you’re absolutely distracted from your writing, you begin spending more time at the bar than at your usual table and hardly get anything done anymore.
  • but you don’t mind because for once your life holds more potential and intriguing possibility than your fiction.
  • and eventually you just ask one of the pianists if they know a jongin and they look at you like ??? “you mean,,,,,,,,,,,, like,,,,,,,,,, the bartender?”
  • jongin has his back to you at the time, which is good because you feel like the world’s greatest dumbass and gawp at him for a good minute.
  • and now it’s your turn to leave him a few notes because “how do you ask a bartender out for a drink?” and “where do bartenders go out for drinks?”
  • and that way you get into the habit of staying after closing time so you can make out and stare at his ass while he stacks chairs and wipes tables.
  • and yeah you’ve lost your favourite writing spot to a new handful of tempting distractions but you’ve gained so much more.
  • so you stay.
  • you come for jongin and you stay for him too :’)
6

two of a kind

Nothin’ But a Chaser- Sammy Wilk Imagine

Hi guys! So I wrote this imagine using the song ‘Chaser’ by Carrie Underwood, I suggest listening to it because that song is bomb af, Carrie Underwood is just perfection. Anyways, hope you guys enjoy, don’t be afraid to send feedback!

Y/N-
“Scotch, Nicky.” You told the bartender of your favorite bar.
Nicky pulled his eyebrows together as he cleaned a short glass off for you with his towel, “Want it watered down, Y/N?” He asked and reached under the bar for your favorite brand of scotch.
“No,” You breathed without thinking about your answer, you needed it neat tonight, you needed the drink strong enough to build your confidence for what you were going to do tonight. You didn’t make eye contact with Nicky as he poured the brown liquor, not asking for your card because he ended up remembering your birthday, all because you and your friends always came to this bar and after a while he got tired of checking and seeing the same date, over and over again.
“You alright, Y/N?” Nicky asked, leaning his hip against the counter and watching you swirl the liquor around in the glass.
“I’m fine.” You lied. You knew exactly what was wrong and even though you heard somewhere that your bartender was never your therapist, most of them actually hated when you unloaded on them, you knew you could tell Nicky anything but this was something you wanted to keep to yourself as long as possible.
Nicky sighed and admitted to defeat silently, “Let me know if you need anything, Y/N.”
You watched as he walked away and wish you didn’t have to be so cold with a long time friend, but as you wanted for your boyfriend of 10 months, you realized that the silence and wait was slowly killing you.
“Hey, baby.” Sammy said, caging you to the bar with an arm on either side of you and his lips touching you ear.
You put on a fake smile and leaned into his warmth, “Hey.”
“What’s goin’ on, baby?” Sammy asked and sat down beside you, “You said you wanted to talk.”
“Hey, man.” Nicky said coming up to you guys and handing Sammy his favorite beer but pulled it away just as Sammy’s fingertips touched the neck of the bottle and stared at him, “I’ll be calling you a cab if you take this beer.”
Sammy smirked, “I didn’t drive anyways, Nick.”
Nicky reluctantly gave Sammy the beer, forgetting that Sammy actually just had his twenty-first birthday a couple weeks back. Sammy laughed, unaware of the seriousness that filled the air between you too, “Come on, Nicky, you were here for my first ‘legal’ drink.”
Nicky pointed towards you, “I was the same way with your girl, I didn’t let her drive after one drink.”
“Protective as hell.” Sammy laughed and tilted the bottle backwards and taking a long sip, you turned towards him and took in, probably the last time, you were going to be able to look at him and think proudly ‘he is mine’ but when he turned his hazel eyes on to you, you were met with the fact that no matter what, when he looked at you it was like he wasn’t really seeing you. He was looking at you but thinking about her.
Sammy smiled at you and placed his hand on your thigh. He sat, facing you, your knee between his legs and his hand on the outside of your thigh. “What did you want to talk about, babe?” He asked, giving your skin a squeeze, “I was hoping I could interest you in a little trip to visit mom next weekend.”
“Sammy…” You started but trailed off, how in the hell were you supposed to start this conversation?
Sammy didn’t listen to your worried tone, instead he took another sip of his beer and looked at you with happy eyes. “Em and Annie tell me their going to be there too, and so will Ben. We were thinking we could do something fun, like spend a couple days in the city and then mom was saying-“
“Sam, stop!” You said, cutting him off while starting to feel overwhelmed.
Sammy immediately shut up, looking a bit shocked at your outburst, but he didn’t remove his hand. He placed his beer on the counter and began taking your conversation a bit more seriously, “Y/N, what’s going on, what’s wrong?”
You looked down at the scotch in the glass, “I know about Jenna Beckman, Sam.”
“Jenna?” Sammy asked and you looked at him to see him staring at you confused. “What’re you talking about?”
You sighed, “Jenna’s been helping you with the new album and you guys have always been in close…”
“I never cheated, Y/N, if that’s what you’re getting at.” Sammy cut you off and took his hand off of your thigh.
“I never said you did.” You stated and sat up straighter, “I’m just saying that…”
“Just saying what, Y/N.” Sam demanded getting angry and you crumbled under his angry eyes.
“Sam, ever since we were kids you were always a chaser.” You told him, leaning in a bit. “Even back then you loved the chase more than the actual relationship and you chased me for years and you finally got me, you realized that the chase is more fun.”
Sammy shook his head, “No, that isn’t true.”
“Yes it is.” You said, smiling sadly. “And right now you’re chasing after Jenna because it’s forbidden. You’re with me, and I know you never cheated on me…” You took a deep breath to keep your tears at bay, “But I won’t let you be unhappy if you want to be with her.”
“Y/N…” Sammy said slowly, leaning in and touching the back of your hand that was on the bar, “It’s meaningless flirting, she knows I’m in love with you.”
I shook my head at his words, “Sammy, stop.”
“Y/N, don’t do this.” Sammy said.
“I’m not going to sit back and watch you chase her skirt while you have me waiting for you at home.” You said and stood up, placing a $10 underneath your cup. Sammy gripped your bicep and turned your body to face him, you could see his eyes starting to panic, his eyes dancing between your eyes not knowing what to say. A tear slipped from your face as you smiled sadly, “You’ll always be my best friend, Sammy, we just weren’t meant to be lovers.”
Sammy pulled you closer into his body, capturing your face and planting a harsh kiss on your lips but you pushed on his chest. He rested his forehead on yours, “We were always meant to be lovers, Y/N.” He whispered.
“No,” You shook your head, “we weren’t. You’ll see it one day soon.”
You pulled away from him after pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and patting his chest. You walked away from him, squeezing past the bodies in the bar while wiping away the tears that were falling down your cheeks. It was for the best, and you knew it. Now Sammy didn’t have to feel tied down and you didn’t have to feel the heart break every time he looked at you.

Imagine: You’re a bartender working your same bland job when suddenly a brown-haired cutie approaches you. Chatting briefly, he manages to slip you a piece of paper with his phone number written on it - in Roman Numerals. You call him as soon as your shift is over and he is shocked.

Good with Numbers// Fluff
Requested by mentallydatingspencerreid

You sigh as you pour yet another concoction of various alcoholic beverages into a glass and hand it over to a sleazy, drunken dirtbag who replies with a slurred, “Thanks beautiful.” 

You ignore his comment, flashing him a brief smile before peering up at the clock. Just another twenty minutes until the shift is over, and you couldn’t be happier. It’s not that you didn’t enjoy being hit on constantly by every member of the male population, you just know well enough by now than to associate your job with your personal relationships. The flashing lights burn your eyes and you find yourself peering over at the dance floor - a mess of sweaty, seemingly conjoined bodies - and just counting the seconds until you get to go home to your nice warm bed. 

Out of the corner of your eye you can see two men approaching you. The way they carry themselves is almost foreign in a place like this. They have a certain authority to their step that makes you a little nervous, and suddenly your stomach is in knots. 

“What can I get for you two gentlemen?” you ask, placing a hand on the bar and meeting eyes with the lankier brunette. 

“Just a moment of your time, sweetheart.” the darker man answers. You immediately tilt your head in confusion. 

“Do you recognize this man?” the handsome brunette asks, handing you a piece of paper. Your eyes float from one man to the next, still wondering why they are looking for this man. 

“Why are you looking for him?” 

“Oh I’m sorry, “ the other man starts, reading into his pocket to pull out a badge, “My name is S.S.A Derek Morgan, this is Dr. Spencer Reid.” 

“Doctor, huh?” you raise your eyebrows at him.

“You can call me Spencer.” he smiles back at you, his eyes briefly flickering down to your lips as he does. 

“Well, I can’t say that I’ve ever seen this man around here before.” you sigh, feeling the young agent’s eyes on you, “But then again a lot of men come in here. They get drunk, throw a degrading and/or objective comment my way, and leave. I try to repress the memory of their faces.” 

“Call us if you hear or see anything.” Spencer nods, sliding his card onto the bar. 

“Will do.” you smile back, noticing how wide and brown his eyes are for the first time. 

‘Thank you for your time.” Derek smiles politely at you. 

“Have a wonderful night.” 

With a final comment, the agents disappear into the colossal sea of grinding bodies and bright lights. Curiosity gets the better of you as you pick up the agent’s card on the bar, squinting your eyes when you see another small piece of paper attached to the card. 

Ten digits are sprawled across the white sheet of paper in messy handwriting. Immediately you recognize the strange symbols. They were Roman Numerals. A phone number, perhaps? But that wouldn’t make any sense considering the agent gave you his card,

Tilting your head to the side, you flip over the card, searching for a phone number. As expected, you find one. However, the tiny print beside the ten digits on the card are addressed to the police department tip line. 

The next fifteen or so minutes feel like an eternity as you continue to serve countless strangers. With five minutes until your shift ends, you grip the sheet of paper in your hands, examining each digit once again. Finally, you grab a pencil you keep inside of your purse and write down each Roman Numeral as a number. As your shift ends, you grab your cell phone, punching in the ten digits and praying to God that the sheet of paper belonged to the handsome agent and not some vulgar excuse for a human being. 

After three rings, a voice answers the phone, “Hello?” You smile to yourself, relived to hear his voice. 

“Hello again, doctor.” you state, “Boy am I glad that this number didn’t lead to some pizza place I’ve never heard of.” 

“You figured it out.” he responds, you can hear the grin in his voice. 

“What can I say, I’m pretty good with numbers of all kinds.” you pause, “Do you give your number to all the girls you meet?” 

“Only the pretty ones with a hint of sass.” he laughs, “Would you be interested in grabbing a coffee sometime?” 

“I would love to” you start, “Spencer.”

As you hang up the phone, Spencer peers down at his own with a wide smile. 

“Was that her?” Morgan asks, shock crossing his face. 

“I told you she was smart enough to figure it out.” 

Her phone was pressed between her shoulder and ear, trying to hold the device steady as she made a note on the nearest napkin. “Those aren’t actually in season, I—“ she paused, listening to the woman on the other end, plastering a smile to her lips. “Sure, I’ll see what I can do.” She ended the call within seconds, noticing the bartender starting to make her drink. “Keep pouring.”

The Signs at the Club
  • Aries: *Trying to pick up someone* Hey doll, what's your zodiac sign?
  • Taurus: *Talking to the Bartender and drinking a moderate amount*
  • Gem Twins: *One is completely sober while the other is too drunk* -Drunk Twin- YOURE THE BEST YOU KNOWSSW THAT!??
  • Cancer: *Biggest lightweight out of the group had a Jell-O shot and about passed out* HEHEHEHEHEHDCIGNCITN *trying to hug everyone*
  • Leo: Dancing w/ Scorpio & Libra
  • Virgo: *Designated Driver* This is going to be a long night
  • Libra: *Dancing w/ Scorpio & Leo* Cap go w/ Sag you're a lightweight and need water!
  • Scorpio: *Dancing w/ their trio and trying not to have any alcohol spilled on them*
  • Sagittarius: *Completely sober* Aqua.. Aquarius we need to get you some water. You're gonna have a killer headache
  • Capricorn: *2nd biggest lightweight* LIIIIBBBBBBBBRRRRAAAADG WHY YOWU SOOOOOO GREAST!
  • Aquarius: *Drunkenly trying to dance w/ Sagittarius*
  • Pisces: *Is the DJ*
Imagine Jim flirting with you in front of Bones.

Originally posted by kennexmccoyy

The crappy little dive bar was filled with your Starfleet comrades, relaxing after a day filled with briefings for the next exploratory mission. You took a seat at the bar, ordered whiskey on the rocks. Running a hand over your face, thanking the bartender when he sets the glass in front of you.

You hear them before you see them, bickering as always.

Keep reading

3

For anon…reader is a princess as requested.

You tiptoed quietly from your bed and closer to your bedroom door. You pressed your ear against the door to hear soft mumbling. You recognized the mumbles of your boyfriend, Anakin. Just as easily, you presumed he was talking to your other guard, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Silently, you turned the lock on your door, making sure to keep the men out.

Smirking, you hurried over to the ladder that was near your window. You threw on the cloak you had hung on the balcony earlier that day. This was, most definitely, not your first time sneaking out. Skillfully, you climbed until you reached the ground. You pulled your hood up as you hurried through the night. Eventually, you arrived at a new bar. You walked inside.

You enjoyed yourself as you made conversation with the bartender. You had gotten up to dance every now and then before heading back to your seat. As the bartender brought you your food, you failed to notice that Anakin and Obi-Wan had entered the same exact bar. Your boyfriend’s eyes widened.

“Is that the princess?” Obi-Wan questioned.
Anakin nodded slowly. “How? She was in her room, asleep.”

Before Obi-Wan could answer, the pair noticed a gruff man place a hand on your shoulder. You raised a brow to the stranger.

“Can I help you?” you asked, irritated.
“You’re in my seat.”
You rolled your eyes. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I must’ve missed where you wrote your name.”
“Don’t get sassy with me, lady,” he replied while you threw back the rest of your drink.
“Too late,” you bit back, “Now, go away.”

The man moved closer to you. You clenched your jaw and raised a brow. Anakin made a move toward you. Before he could do anything, you pulled the chair out from under you and smashed it on the man. Groaning in pain and anger, he lurched toward you. Smirking, you raised your hand and froze him. Obi-Wan and Anakin’s eyes widened drastically.

“Now, once I let you go, you leave. Okay big fella?”

As he nodded, you let him go. The man practically flew out of the bar. Grinning you turned your gaze to the door. The grin fell from your face as you noticed your two guards. You hurried over to them. You rubbed your hand on your neck sheepishly.

“So…you saw that, huh?”

They just nodded, too stunned to say anything.

Want to Request?

New Years Kiss

A/N: I know it’s not New Years Eve, but I think this too much not to post. Here’s a little Lafayette (aka my love) fluff to make your night or day a little better. I’m terribly sorry if it switches between tenses. I started it last night around 11, then continued after getting very few hours of sleep and working.

Pairing: Lafayette x Reader (Modern)

Warnings: Fluff!! and Poor French and drinking and swearing

Originally posted by burrn

Every New Year’s Eve you threw a huge party with all your friends at your apartment in New York City. Throughout the years your party has expanded and sometimes you didn’t even know who was there. You weren’t too bothered by it, the merrier as you always said.

This year you were more than ready. Your friends, John Laurens, Alexander Hamilton, Gilbert Lafayette, and Hercules Mulligan, all helped you get ready for the party. Hamilton and Laurens were your bartenders for the night, Lafayette was DJ, and Hercules had offered to watch food.

Keep reading

Guys ok I did something at work that I feel super guilty about I have to confess.

So I work at a bar and this young coworker who everyone doesn’t like brought a piece of pecan pie for me that he made. I try to be friendly to all my fellow people but this guy is a little annoying sometimes ok just being honest no tea no shade no pink lemonade. I was like ok you bringing me pie is at least super sweet. Thank you. And the pie turned out to be BOMMMMMB. LIKE literally I was over there orgasming in my mouth. And he’s all “is it good?” And I was like “yeah good job my dude.” And then he left.

So then this group of guys come up and sits at my bar and I start talking to them and my bartender mind kicks in like how can I milk these guys for everything. If you go out to a bar just being honest this is what your bartender is thinking… so anyway my mind was going through business plans involving them and then For some reason my mind connected to the piece of pie I had sitting behind me.

I was like “hey guys. I MADE THIS. TRY IT!!!!”

Yes I lied about making the pie. But then they loved it of course. Freaking out about it. They asked me to come to their thanksgiving thing now. And asked me to bring the pie. So then I’m frantically googling Facebook cooking videos on making a good pecan pie???

TalesFromYourServer: "[I] was disrespectful, arrogant, and smelled like BO and cigarette smoke" -Yelp review

I’m a server/bartender at a very busy, high turnover sports bar in a large city. Sunday night we had 2 of our regular girls (young 20’s) come in with a group of college kids. From the start they were not ideal customers - ordering from the bar, all wanted different tabs, wouldn’t look me in the eye, didn’t know what they wanted to order - not to mention clearly had no idea how to operate in a bar setting.

At one point, one of the sweaty, acne-covered kids in a Grateful Dead tye dye shirt broke a glass. I asked him to step aside so I could clean it up. “I WOULD but your bartender told me not to stand in the middle of the aisle.”

“So don’t stand in the aisle, but I need you to not stand on top of broken glass either.”

As I’m on my hands and knees cleaning up glass, I hear him and the bartender going at it, finally with the adolescent telling him to go fuck himself and “chill the fuck out”. Really calmly, the bartender told him to hand him his beer, told me to get the check, and that they had to leave. The girls, our regulars, were mortified. They apologized over and over, tipped 70%, and told me not to worry about their friend.

In the morning, my manager texted me, telling me that though the bartender had escaped a bad review, my name was on the receipt and thus I was the recipient of the review on Yelp.

“We went in for some tacos on Sunday night to experience a rude and unprofessional server named ray_adverb12, who wrieked like cigarette smoke and body odor.  Although the food was ok, her standoffish attitude and disregard for the customer will have me never coming back to this over rated shop!”

My manager is reassuring me that there won’t be any professional backlash, and that “I don’t stink”, which made me laugh, but overall I’m pissed. Including my name in the review was a low blow, I’m humiliated. I was the messenger for the bartender and got shot for it. I’ve worked there over a year and this is the first time my name has been mentioned in a review, and we have over 1,500. Also, the owner isn’t one of the cool ones that goes to bat for his employees - he responds to every single one of the reviews, always on his knees.

The owner wants to meet with me before work today. Fml.

By: Ray_adverb12

Drabbles - 142

Hold my hand so he gets jealous.”  J-Hope


“So, what did he do? Your ex?”

“Cheated on me… with multiple people,” you answer matter-of-factly, sliding your rum and coke between your hands. The bartender gives you a pointed look, so you stop and smile sheepishly. “He was an ass. Good riddance.”

Hoseok nods, smiling, glancing at said ass across the room for a second before turning back to you. “He keeps looking over here. He probably wants you back.”

“Sucks for him,” you joke, poking your straw at the ice cubes. “I’ve moved on from my asshole phase. I’m much more into guys that dance like fire and have high cheekbones.” You look at him from under your eyelashes, the rum having eased your typical shyness. 

A slow grin breaks across his face, mischief and delight shining in his eyes, before he says, “Do you? You should hold my hand, so he gets jealous.”

“I should?”

“Yeah.” 

You hold his gaze for several moments, raising one brow with a pointed look, when he starts laughing, a tinge of embarrassment mixing with the loud, happy noise. 

“Okay, maybe I just want to hold your hand,” he says, his smile so wide that it’s nearly blinding. 

You stare at him, his black hair pushed back behind a snapback, a worn Supreme t-shirt with ripped blue skinny jeans conforming tight to his body. You think about the feeling of laughter in your chest that brings a smile to your face, the casual politeness that he’s shown you. The fact that you’re sitting in a bar, strobe lights and hiphop music thumping around you, and he wants to hold your hand. 

“I don’t really care about making him jealous,” you tell him, taking one last sip of your rum and coke before pulling a pen out of your bag. You write your number on napkin and slide it across the bar to Hoseok, who’s watching curiously. “But I’d be interested in holding your hand sometime. Maybe next Saturday, for example.”

You pick up your bag and slide from the stool, smiling when he looks up at you with surprise. “Hope to hear from you, Hoseok.” 

Originally posted by hobioppa


Pour Up

This is part of our Mood130: TRBLseries, please check out part 1. I hope you like it! ^^

Part 1

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Word:1620

Description~ You’re at your local bar when a pair of dark eyes catch your attention

It was a place you enjoyed having drink, a place with people who floated around the same air as you. There were many faces you’d seen before and some you’d never seen, and you’d question what would bring them into a place like this. As you got your mascato, you thanked the bartender in front of you as something else also caught our eye. A pair of black deep eyes that stared right back at you. His skin was light and looked soft, his lips moist and plum. Few strands of hair fell upon his eyebrow perfectly. When the bartender blocked your view and moved again he was gone, you questioned whether you’d seen a dark angel. When all of a sudden you feel something from behind you that sends shiver down your body and goosebumps grow along your skin.

Keep reading

A Message From Your Local Heroin Dealer

I’m getting about fed up with all these ignorant #shootyourlocalheroindealer posts on Facebook and Twitter. First of killing is wrong in ANY situation. To kill your local heroin dealer would be just as atrocious as selling the person the heroin in the first place. The dealer is not the problem, they are just entrepreneurs trying to make a quick buck. I mean, no one is screaming to shoot your local gas station attendant because he sells cigarettes. Or to shoot your local bartender for serving alcohol. Both of which add up to more deaths per year than heroin. If you really feel that you must kill the people responsible for this heroin epidemic, then shoot your local pharmaceutical rep. They’re the real criminals here. It happens to hundreds of people a day. They go to the hospital for pain, whether it happened in an accident or just old age, the doctor than prescribes them hardcore, very addictive, pain pills. Once the prescription runs out the patient can’t get anymore, but the opiate addiction is still there. So they then take to the street to buy illegal prescriptions but find that heroin is much cheaper and easier to obtain. So don’t balm your local heroin dealer for the problem that your doctor prescribed. If you really feel compelled to help, fund addiction treatment centers. But don’t you dare act like the problem is the dealer when your local doctor is just as much to blame.