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writerman · 5 years

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hi my man i got a prompt request for u if thats ok :) : modern au thranduil is gay and cant drive also he cant do math,,, we need stupid twink representation ;))))))

Thank you for this I need to write something light-hearted after my last prompt! I just want to let you know that I also cannot do maths and had to google the answer to this insanely easy maths problem. Also I can’t drive… because I don’t have a license.

So yah… read into that what you will!

This accidentally ended up being 2k+ words when it was meant to be shorter. Whoops!

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Tires screech followed by a crunch of metal colliding with metal.

A beat of silence before Bard cursed out loud from inside his car.

He'd been rear-ended and it sounded pretty bad, felt it too from the whiplash he was now suffering from being shoved forward by the impact.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Bard took a deep breath before removing his seat belt and climbing out of the car to speak with the other motorist.

Time slowed down for a moment as the most beautiful tall blond creature stepped out of their silver BMW and headed towards Bard looking almost sheepish at the damage to the rear bumper and tail lights.

Don't forgive him just because he's hot! Bard, don't forgive him just because he's hot. Just… don't do it. Boy, don't do it! His brain seemed to have sense but the brunet couldn't trust his mouth so remained silent as the blond approached still looking entirely horrified that he had caused such an incident.

"I'm so sorry…" The blond began, he was well-spoken and seemed genuine in his apology, though Bard wasn't sure he was taking in anything he said.

Clearing his throat Bard looked between his car and the others and sighed as though reluctant to say what he was going to propose to the other.

"I wasn't paying attention at all, and yes, I am well aware that I'm obviously a bad driver for that sole reason, but if you'd be so kind as to hear me out on this," He flipped his long blond hair over his shoulder as he spoke and Bard felt any hope for the situation slowly deflate and dissolve, he was just too in awe of the creature stood before him in a form-fitting grey suit and lavender shirt.... "Let's forget insurance companies and let me pay you for the damage outside of all that legal stuff, yes?"

Was he one of those millionaires that didn't seem bothered by any bill under 10,000?!

It was then that Bard realised the blond probably didn't have insurance. Out of frustration he rubbed at his brow his eyes closed hoping some semblance of sense could be gleaned from the man before him.

Though, really keeping the insurance companies out of this wasn't a bad idea. It could work out assuming this man gave him legitimate contact details.

"My name is Thranduil by the way. Let me… give you my number." He fumbled in his jacket pocket for something before eventually pulling out a phone, Bard followed suit and did the same, they exchanged contact info and Bard confirmed that once he had a price for the repairs he would call or text the blond.

He received a bright smile at this before Thranduil demurely said, "You know, if we hadn't met in such embarrassing circumstances I would have asked you out for a drink."

For a split second Bard was catapulted into a state of shock and he very nearly suggested they should do so anyway but he remembered he was meant to be picking the kids up from his ex-wife's apartment and all his sense and logic came flooding back.

You can't forgive him because he's hot, Bard! This is your brain speaking and you should really REALLY listen.

That was the end of that and Bard dismissed what Thranduil had said with an uneasy laugh before they parted ways.

When he finally made it to Mari's apartment he had to take a seat and explain what happened, and he was completely honest about it all. Even when he considered letting the handsome stranger take him out.

"Oh wow, you've had quite the afternoon then. Wish hot guys would crash into the back of me… wait… no, but still as Sigrid would say 'Big Mood'.

No idea if I'm even using that right." She dismissed her own words by giving a lacklustre flourish of her free hand, the other holding a take out coffee cup.

"He sounds like your type Bard, ya know, hot... and it wouldn't kill you to get out there and date even if he IS a dangerous driver. No one is perfect." Mari shrugged before taking a sip of her coffee. She seemed more understanding of the situation than he but it wasn't like her car had been banged up.

"Yeah… probably not gonna happen. He likely wanted to try and get out of paying for my car. Uh... where are the kids?"

"Not everyone is a skeevy loser trying to rob you, Bard. Kids are still at their swimming class, Jack will be home with them soon." Jack was Mari's husband, they met in Seattle while Mari was away on business, he was an all-round great guy and loved the kids. Bard had no problems with him. They’d shared a few beers and sometimes they talked sports, though Bard generally didn't have much to say on college football because they were in England and Jack hadn't realised that most people didn't care about American sports all that much.

"I suppose I'll hang around until they're back then. Oh… actually, I'll take the car to the garage and see if I can get a quote on how much the repairs will be."

Mari waved him off and he left without another word.

All in all the repairs wouldn't cost all that much. The bumper was heavily scratched and dented but some buffing and a paint job would fix that and the lights were easily replaced. It wouldn't be too expensive and Bard wondered if he should just forget about asking Thranduil to pay for it.

Instantly his brain whirred into gear.

Don't forgive him because he's hot!!!! He did this so he should pay! Don't let the hot man win!

Pulling out his phone Bard composed a text explaining the price of the repairs and that he'd be happy if he just gave him 60% of the bill.

Right away he received a reply.

[Guy That Wrecked My Car] No problem. But what is 60% of £300?

[Guy That Wrecked My Car] It's ok I'll Google it or something.

He's a dumbass that can't drive and can't do math… and, dammit, you think he's hot, Bard. Resist asking him out. RESIST.

[Guy That Wrecked My Car] Maths is so hard. I'm a busy man I don't have time to do this. Can't I just pay the whole £300 and you can buy me a drink or something and we can call it even?

For awhile Bard just blinked down at his phone, this man was clearly adamant in trying to take him out. Still, he knew he had to refuse…

Didn't he?

The phone began to ring and in his surprise Bard almost dropped the device, regaining his grip on it he answered the phone to hear the smooth voice of Thranduil floating through the speaker.

"Didn't you receive my message?"

"Yeah, sure did."

"Well?"

"Just pay me £180 and we're fine."

"What an odd figure to pull out of thin air." Came the annoyed response, Bard nearly hung up.

"Ah, sure, don't know why I even said that." Bard's reply drier than the desert but it went right over Thranduil's head who just huffed again down the phone.

"Well, let's meet up and I'll pay you. I assume cash is alright?"

Man, he sounded like a damn snob on the phone, much less apologetic than earlier and not as peppy as he was in his texts.

Something didn't seem right but Bard didn't really know this man well enough to confirm why so he shrugged it off and agreed on a time and gave him the address of the garage before disconnecting the call.

Weird guy…

When Thranduil showed up he was in an entirely different car than the one involved in the crash, and it took Bard a moment to realise, that in his haste to fix his own car, he hadn’t checked if the blond was ok or if his car had survived.

As he was approached by the beauty it was Bard’s turn to offer a slightly apologetic smile in greeting but it only caused the blond’s brows to knit together in confusion at the sudden tender gesture.

“I didn’t get to ask if you were alright earlier, you might have crashed into me but you still could have been injured on impact… I’m sorry that I didn’t check you or your car.” There was silence between them and for a second Bard believed that his statement may have been completely ignored until a dark pink blush bloomed over Thranduil’s cheeks and he looked away for a moment mumbling that he was fine and there was nothing to worry about.

“See, you say that but you’re in a different car and maybe you’re good at hiding your pain. I would feel better if you absolutely told me the truth. Are you ok?” He tried to offer what he believed to be a gentle smile as Thranduil looked back to him.

“My car was scratched but it remains in one piece and only requires paint to fix it. I am in good health, nothing hurt but my pride… I suppose.”

“Can’t handle crashing into someone and having to deal with it like an adult?” Bard joked he had hoped to coax a smile out of the blond but so far he remained stoic and he wondered if Thranduil had gotten into some trouble for the crash or was just having a really bad day that continued after their incident.

Either way, it didn’t sit well with Bard and he had no idea why.

It shouldn’t really matter to him if Thranduil was in good spirits or not, he was only really there to pay for the damage he had caused by being reckless while driving, whatever he had been doing to cause him to crash into a parked car… it must have been bloody well interesting.

“Strangely, not the reason for my bruised ego, I assure you.”

“It really should be why you’re so embarrassed, to be honest,” Bard muttered quietly as he accepted the cash and scowled when he counted out £300 rather than the agreed 60%- though, truthfully, Thranduil had not agreed to anything but to pay him.

“Do you really not know what 60% of £300 is?” He was counting the bills as he spoke but when he looked up he saw a faint blush creeping over the blond’s pale skin again and he guessed that maths really wasn’t this man’s strong point.

“Calculators were invented for a reason, you know.” Was all Thranduil said and Bard bit back a chuckle though he couldn’t quite hide his smile. Regardless of the way he spoke this man was quite adorable and he had to admit to his credit Thranduil did show up and pay the full amount, most people would have given fake details.

“You really don’t have to pay the full thing.”

“Let me do this, it’s bad enough you won’t let me take you out!” The blond fumed almost pouting like a petulant child over the fact he couldn’t persuade Bard to go out for a drink.

In his defence, he barely knew the guy but then again, getting a drink with him would mean talking and he would get to know him if they met up again. Did- did Thranduil was to take him out on a date that badly?

It wasn’t like Bard hadn’t been struggling to resist asking him out, he had been rendered speechless the second he saw him and even though they had spent a measly 15 minutes together in their entire lives… he did find him sweet.

Perhaps there would be no harm in grabbing coffee with him or a drink maybe even dinner?

Offering Thranduil a lopsided grin he threw his hands up as a gesture of ‘what the hell!’.

“Sure, let’s go out sometime. Coffee, dinner, whatever you want. You have my number let’s talk soon.” With that, he turned on his heel and headed back to the garage leaving a dazed Thranduil stood by his car brimming with excitement.

Mari was probably right.

Not everyone is a skeevy loser trying to rob you.

Sometimes they’re beautiful creatures who can’t drive and can’t do math who want to date you…

#Barduil #Bard the bowman #Thranduil #The Hobbit #Writing Prompt #Prompt #swowflake

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winterinpanem · 7 years

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Christmas Angels - Chapter 1

AN – My dad didn’t grow up with very much. About 10 years ago, he decided he didn’t want my husband and me to pay the money to ship a gift halfway across Canada to his door. Instead, he wanted us to donate what would have spent on his gift to a children’s charity. He does the same for us. Thus began our annual tradition of choosing gifts for needy kids off the angel tree at our local mall. This story is inspired by our tradition. And by my Peeta, who has become so invested in the project that he motivates his students at the business college where he works to purchase gifts as well. Over the last three years about 300 kids have benefitted from their work.

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December 16

The incessant beeping of the back alarm is making my skin crawl, but I still manage to get the cargo van aligned with the receiving doors at the back of the little bakery in Panem’s downtown. When they finally disappear from sight in my side mirror, I shift the van into neutral and set the parking brake.

Normally, I’m busy packing hampers during my Saturday volunteer shift at the Seam Street Food Bank, but Mags, the manager, had been frantic this morning. Haymitch, her usual truck driver had called in sick, which really meant drunk. Without him, Mags had no one to pick up the Saturday donations. So, I’ve been spending my time, backing up to door after door as Panem’s local restaurants and grocery stores pass on perfectly good food that they’d just be tossing in the trash because it’s not quite as fresh as their customers demand.

Had it not been for the food bank a few years ago, I’d have been digging through the dumpsters of every one of these establishments, trying to put enough food on the table to keep my little sister and I fed. My mother was a lost cause, too busy spending our meagre welfare cheque on booze to make sure we got something to eat. I guess I was just lucky Mags didn’t ask questions the first time I went into the old warehouse on Seam Street and signed up for a hamper. Or she’d seen it so many times that she knew reporting my situation to the authorities was likely to make my life worse instead of better. Either way, she and her food bank saved me and my sister. Every Saturday since I got a job and got out on my own, I’ve spent a little time packing hampers, trying to pay her back for what she did for me.

The holidays are the busiest time of year at the food bank. Not because there are suddenly more poor people. It’s just that all of the sudden, the not-so-poor people decide they need to give more to charity to make up for the ridiculous amounts they’re spending on stuff they don’t need. Mags makes sure to stow away the canned goods and frozen foods for the lean months in February and March when everybody’s credit card bills have rolled in and they’re too pinched for cash to remember that human beings need to eat every day and not just at Christmas.

I take a quick glance at the list on the clipboard Mags gave me. Mellark’s Bakery. Well, it looks like I’m in the right place. I guess the baker must have made too many cookies this week. Or some bread is about to go stale that can’t be sold to paying customers. Our clients won’t complain. Slightly stale bread toasts just fine. Throw on some peanut butter for protein and you’ve got a happy, reasonably well-fed kid. I snatch up the receipt book, just in case the baker wants one for his unsalable goods, and do a quick check in the rearview mirror. Can’t represent the food bank with something stuck in my teeth. I stare back at my reflection. My grey eyes look clear. My braid is neat. Nothing stuck between my teeth. Since I don’t look like I’ve been hit by the ugly stick, I jump down from the cab, my breath swirling in the crisp, winter air.

The sound of my hiking boots crunching on the packed snow echoes through the alleyway as I make my way to open the van before banging on the bakery’s back door. I only have to give a few swift knocks before I hear someone snapping open the locks on the other side of the door. The door swings wide and I’m face to face with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, set in one hell of a handsome face topped by wavy blonde hair. That face is the picture of surprise at the moment. I guess the baker was expecting Haymitch.

“I’m from the food bank?”

The eyes blink twice and then he manages to flash me a blinding smile full of straight white teeth. “Oh! Great! I’m Peeta Mellark.” He sticks out his hand. “I’m glad you’re here.” I wait for him to open the door to let me in, but instead he steps outside. He’s still in his shirt sleeves, but he doesn’t seem cold. “They’re up in the apartment,” he says, as though that explains something I should already know. He starts climbing a wooden staircase that runs between the bakery door and a second door. He stops about halfway up. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Into your apartment?” I wait for him to figure out why that’s not on.

He reddens a bit and rubs his hand over his hair, making it stand up in spots. “I’m not a creep, I swear. I mean, I was expecting a guy. She said Haystack, or something, was coming to pick them up.”

I guess he’s got a point, but I’m stubborn. “Not today. Can’t you just bring whatever it is down?”

He sort of laughs. “Why don’t you just come and see for yourself?”

I can’t help it. I’m not exactly a shrinking violet and he’s piqued my curiosity as to what this is all about, so I huff and start stomping up the steps behind behind him. He leads the way, which gives me a close up view of his very fine ass, nicely rounded underneath his shapeless white pants. I don’t have long to admire the view, however. In less than a minute, we’re standing at the top of the stairs and he’s opening the door to the apartment. We step inside and I immediately understand the problem. Every surface of the apartment is covered in brightly wrapped packages topped with shiny bows. Each package also sports an angel-shaped tag, bearing the a child’s first name and their Christmas wish.

Every year, the food bank encourages its clients to make a wish for each of their children on one of those tags and they’re hung on a Christmas tree in the mall. Shoppers pick them up off the tree, and then return the gift to the food bank. I can’t say for sure, but by my estimation, this guy has single-handedly fulfilled the wishes of at least 100 kids who wouldn’t be getting anything for Christmas otherwise. I should know, I wrote my little sister’s name on those tags every year and then crossed my fingers for the kindness of strangers.

“How many?” I blurt out. The real question is why he did it, but that question seems a little too personal to be asking someone I just met.

“One hundred and forty-two,” he tells me, and if there’s a trace of pride in his voice, I don’t hear it..

I’m not sure why this stop was last on my list. The old cube van is already about half full with my other pick-ups. Mags must have known what I was picking up here. There’s no way she wouldn’t have noticed one person had committed to granting so many angel tree wishes. “I can get about half of them in the van now,” I tell him. “I’ll have to come back for the rest.”

The guy, I think he said his name was Peeta, nods quickly and sweeps a pile from the table top into his arms. I grab another pile off a nearby couch and we start back down the stairs. He holds the door and I lead the way down the stairs, finally stopping in front of the open van to load in the presents.

I realize then, that in order to load the van properly, one of us is going to have to wait inside the van to stack the gifts while the other brings them downstairs; otherwise, we’ll be climbing in and out of the van all afternoon.

Peeta recognizes the problem at the same moment. He puts down his load of gifts and gives me a bright smile. “I’ll go for the next load, while you pack these. Deal?”

“Sure.” I climb into the van and begin sorting the presents into piles. I decide to use the larger ones to form a base layer and set the small ones off to the side where they won’t get damaged.

Before long, Peeta returns with another armload. “Here are some more, um-” I can feel the corners of my mouth turning up I as gather the stack into my own arms, but a little wrinkle forms between his brows. “I don’t think I actually got your name.”

“Katniss,” I tell him, going back to playing Tetris with the gifts. I suppose it’s rude not to introduce myself properly. “Katniss Everdeen.”

“Katniss?” He sounds surprised and I tense, waiting for him to react to the unusual name my father chose for me. “Like the plant? Nice.”

I give him a quick look and he’s sporting a little smile with just the right touch of shyness, that makes it impossible to look away. “You know what a Katniss plant is?”

He shrugs. “Sure, I’m a baker. I have a book of all different sorts of plants. I sculpt flowers for wedding cakes all the time.”

I think of the simple blossom on my namesake plant. “Can’t be much call for Katniss cakes.”

His hand rubs against the back of his neck and I wonder if he’s getting cold. He’s still not wearing a coat. “No, but I flip by it all the time on my way to the lilies.” I nod in understanding and his hand falls to his side. “I’ll just, ah, get some more presents.” He shuffles away and I crawl out of the van to make more room. After a couple more loads, it’s as full I as I feel is safe. I slam the van’s rear doors closed.

“I’ll be back,” I tell him, and he’s just goofy enough to reply with a Terminator impression. I can’t help but laugh. “Give me an hour and we’ll get the rest of them loaded up.”

A few minutes later, I’m driving back through the city, once again grinding my way through the gears of this old van and hoping it holds together long enough for me to finish the gift delivery.

Mags meets me in the loading bay of the food bank. She gives me a cheery wave when I jump down from the van. I don’t know how the older woman manages to maintain such a positive attitude when she spends day after day in this place with all she has to deal with.

“You should have warned me about what was at the bakery,” I complain as I open the van doors.

Mags rolls her eyes and waves me off. She had a stroke last year and while she gets around just fine with the help of a cane, she lost her ability to speak.

“I’m serious, Mags, I would have done things differently had I known.”

The old woman holds up two fingers.

“I know I would have had to make two trips anyway, that’s not my point.”

Mags crooks her finger at me, indicating I should follow and heads for the doors. Her long grey hair is tied up today and trailing over her back. She stops on the threshold and points at two teenagers lounging against the building, cigarettes smouldering between their fingers, their expensive brand name jackets hanging open. They’re not clients. Mags never says, but we often have this type around the food bank. Working off their court appointed community service, I presume. She snaps her fingers at them and then points at the van. Marvel and Cato, at least I think that’s their names, put out their cigarettes and slouch off to do her bidding.

The warehouse is a hive of activity. Effie Trinket’s shrill voice carries from the back right corner. Effie’s been a food bank volunteer for as long as I’ve been coming here. With brassy gold hair that can’t possibly be real and sporting more makeup than any woman ought to wear, Effie is a force to be reckoned with. She’s managing the angel tree program this year, and from the looks of things, she’s got everything organized to the enth. Mags waves to Effie on her way to her office and gets a cheerful greeting in return. We pass rack after rack of shelving units. The macaroni and cheese section looks particularly loaded down right now. The tables where volunteers pack the hampers that go home with the clients are nearby. On the left, near the front doors, Chaff and Seeder are in the soup kitchen prepping for today’s hot meal, like they do every Saturday.

Mags’ office is in a closet-sized space near the front doors. I think it was where the factory workers used to punch in before heading out onto the floor to work. She snatches a small whiteboard off her desk.

So you met Peeta?

“Yes, Mags, I met him.”

Handsome.

She can say that again. “Yeah, I guess.”

Mags’ eyes are dancing as she erases her board. My second favourite volunteer, she scrawls.

Seriously? If cheerful, kind – and okay, yes, gorgeous – Peeta Mellark, with his sky blue eyes and sexy jaw is her second favourite volunteer, who would qualify as her favourite?

“He volunteers here? How come I’ve never seen him around?”

Mags shakes her head and picks up her marker again. He’s here on Thursdays. Soup kitchen. She holds the board up so I can read it. When I nod in understanding, she erases it and starts over. Always a long line for his cooking.

I snort. “Figures.”

Mags chuckles and erases her board again. Lots of women here on Thursdays.

This conversation is annoying. “Well, I should go see if those two slackers have got the van unloaded. I told your favourite volunteer I’d be right back.”

Mags shakes two fingers in my direction. “Right,” I recall. “Second favourite. Be back soon, Mags.”

She waves me off. When I come back into the main room, I find Effie practically having an orgasm over Peeta’s wrapping job.

“Oh Katniss,” she enthuses. “So few people appreciate that it’s the little things that make the difference. A child in need has as much need to be recognized as someone special as anyone else, to know that someone cares enough to make things nice for them. Oh!” She wipes a tear from her eye and holds up a brightly wrapped package topped in a hand-tied scarlet bow. “Look at this! It’s a work of art.”

Clearly, Effie Trinket has no idea what a ‘child in need’ actually needs, but I decide to let it slide since her heart is in the right place.

“Pretty,” I agree. “Well, I better go get the rest of them.”

“There’s more?” Effie is truly beside herself now. “Oh Katniss, think of the children!”

I shoot Effie a grimace wrapped in a smile, shake the keys to the van at her and head for the back door. The layabouts seem to have found a new hiding spot, at least but the van is empty. I fire it up and head back across town.

I’ve barely backed up to the bakery and Peeta is throwing open the door, a delighted smile on his face. As I approach, I see that his blue eyes are twinkling.

“You’ve got perfect timing,” he calls as I open the back door of the van. “I’ve just flipped over the closed sign for the day.”

Now that I know this guy has Mags’ seal of approval, I’m more than ready to help him carry the gifts down from the apartment.

I start for the stairs, but Peeta appears in the bakery doorway, his arms full of gifts. I notice a blue and silver bow and envision Effie’s reaction. I don’t realize I’m scowling until he does a double take and shrugs good-naturedly. “I brought them down already. I thought it would save time.”

I hold out my arms and he passes the load off to me to stow in the van. The process goes much more smoothly with an empty van and we are soon moving swiftly past each other to pack the parcels inside. Well, I’m moving swiftly. Peeta seems to be limping.

“Hold up,” My hand closes around his rock-hard biceps. Who would have thought a baker would have arms like that? “Are you okay?”

His brow furrows. “Sure. Why?”

I give his leg a pointed look.

“Oh, he says. “Old injury. It gets aggravated when I overdo it.” He turns his back and shuffles back into the bakery kitchen.

I want to kick myself. Of course that’s why he asked for our van and needed help bringing them down the stairs. Thanks to me, this poor guy has made about 50 trips up and down the stairs today that he didn’t need to make.

“You should have told me,” I grumble as we sweep the last of the gifts into our arms and head back outside.

He stops and gives me an odd look as he stands at the van doors. “Crawling on my knees in the van wouldn’t have been any better for it Katniss. And I’m the one who decided to bring the rest down. You didn’t ask me to do that.”

I put my load down. “Because I balked at going upstairs.”

Peeta stows his pile. “Well, that was a little of it. Mostly, I was hoping to save a little time.”

I’m still frowning when I slam the van doors closed, but Peeta has his hands in his pockets and a slight smile on his lips. His wavy blonde locks have fallen into his eyes and he reminds me of little boy trying to charm himself out of trouble.

“Have you got a few minutes? I make the best hot chocolate in town.”

I check my watch, but it’s not like I have to hurry back. The food bank will be open for hours yet, and it might be Saturday, but I don’t have any plans this evening. So, I shrug and agree.

Peeta’s smile transforms into a toothy grin and he leads the way back into the bakery. The kitchen is spotlessly clean. Every stainless steel surface is sparkling and while the ovens are clearly off. The heat in here is a startling difference from being outside for the last half hour. No wonder Peeta was loading gifts in his shirt sleeves.

He leads the way out into the cheerful storefront and moves toward an espresso machine where he heats the milk. Before long, two piping hot chocolates are steaming away in colourful mugs on the counter.

“The secret,” he confides, “is in the quality of the chocolate and real whipped cream.” He pulls a little container from the fridge. “Chocolate I grated this morning,” he explains as he sprinkles it on top. He passes me a mug and waves me toward a couple of cafe tables set up under a colourful painting not far from the cash. Once we’ve settled in, he smiles at me and holds up his mug, “to a job well done.”

With a hear, hear, I clink my mug against his. I take a sip of the hot chocolate and don’t quite manage to stifle a groan. “You’re right,” I tell him. “This is the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had.”

Peeta smiles brightly at me and then chuckles. He leans across the table. “You have a little…” He flicks my nose and holds up his finger. A little blob of whipped cream sits on the pad. He pops it in his mouth and grins.

I don’t know whether to laugh or scowl, but I feel a blush stealing across my cheeks so choose the latter.

He laughs. “I can’t help but tease you, Katniss. Your reactions are priceless.”

“And here I was thinking you might be one of the good guys.”

He puts his mug on the table and watches as it spins it between his fingers. “I try to be. My dad always said being a good man was the most important thing I could do with my life.”

I recognize the tone. “When did you lose him?”

“This past summer,” he sighs and rubs his hands on his thighs before sitting back in his chair. “Cancer.”

“The first Christmas is rough,” I tell him, sipping my hot chocolate and taking care to wipe my nose. “It’s never easy, but it gets a little less hard every year.”

He leans forward. “Did you lose your dad?”

I nod. “Hunting accident.” It hurts even now to think of what happened, but I’ve had years of practice at disguising my feelings about it. My father was a hunting guide part-time to make extra money for our family. He was leading a group of guys from the Capitol out on a deer hunt. One of the idiots forgot to turn the safety on his gun. He got over-excited, mishandled the weapon and it went off. My dad got shot in the chest and he bled out before they could get him out of the woods. Our family was never the same after that.

“I’m sorry,” Peeta offers, and for once, I know that it isn’t a platitude. He understands exactly what it feels like to lose a parent.

“Thanks,” I tell him. “I’m sorry for your loss too.”

“This whole gift thing was about him,” he confesses. “He was a big supporter of the food bank and the angel tree was really important to him. Each year he would take my older brothers and me to the mall. We each picked an angel off the tree and then Dad would take us shopping to fulfill the wish. He said it was our gift to him.”

“Too bad there weren’t more people like your dad,” I remark. Peeta and I are about the same age. I wonder if he or his brothers ever took Prim’s angel off the tree.

“He was special,” Peeta agrees, and takes a sip of chocolate, watching me over the rim of the mug. “Once I grew up, we stopped buying gifts for each other and just did the angel tree. My brothers live out west and they do the same thing.” I don’t know what to say to that. I volunteer every week at the food bank, but this level of generosity is beyond what we usually see, even there, so I just nod and sip the rich nectar in my hand. “This year, it just seemed so incredibly sad that we wouldn’t do it together, I decided I needed to do something to honour him.”

“Well, you definitely did that. I’m sure he’d be very proud of you.” The words burst from me, and I cringe inside at my unusual burst of sentimentality, but Peeta accepts my words graciously, his cheeks a little pinker than they were minutes before. “Seriously, Peeta, you’ve made a huge donation. I’ve never seen anything like it from a single person.”

He shrugs. “I didn’t pay it all out of pocket. I held a silent auction here in the bakery. Told people what I was doing in memory of Dad. It was just way more successful than I imagined.”

I can just imagine the long list of bids on the auction items. There’s no doubt of my mind that Peeta could charm people into parting with their hard-earned money.

I raise my mug to my lips only to find it empty and the corners of my mouth turn down in disappointment.

“I guess I should get going,” I sigh as I rise from the table, pushing away the urge to linger. “Thank you for the hot chocolate.” He waves that off as though it were nothing. “And on behalf of the food bank, thank you for your donation.”

“My pleasure,” he replies, “on both counts.”

He collects the mugs and once we make our way into the kitchen, I head for the delivery door zipping up my jacket and adjusting my scarf. It’s really going to suck to have to climb into that frigid truck after the warmth of bakery.

“Hey Katniss?”

I whip around to find Peeta massaging his neck, a shy smile on his rugged features. “Do you want to, uh, exchange numbers?” I’m so distracted by the butterflies winging around in my chest that I forget to answer. He begins to backpedal. “I mean, don’t feel obligated or anything. But I feel like we made friends today. But I won’t be hurt if you don’t want-”

Friends. Of course he just wants to be friends. Why would a guy like him be interested in me? The butterflies come back to Earth and I pull my phone out of my pocket. “What’s your number?” The smile returns to his face and he rattles it off while I punch it in. I type a quick ‘It’s Katniss’ and press send.

When his phone chimes a second later, he pulls it from his pocket. “There you are,” he says with a smile and with some quick flicks, adds me to his contacts. “You’ll be sick of me in no time.”

~~~

Thank you @burkygirl!!!

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bigwheelblading · 6 years

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“I’m 19 forever with my skates on,” is how old Matt Mickey responded when I asked him his age. This is the exact same age I feel when I’m cruising through urban landscapes, distance skating down country roads or hitting the skatepark with some friends. For many of us seasoned skaters, blading is the fountain of youth… the DMV however may not agree. At 38-years-old Matt has been on his skates for the past 24 of those years, primarily as an aggressive street and park skater. And for the last 18 years, he has been running Intuition Skate Shop in Bakersfield, California.

Back when I lived in San Diego in the 2000s, my friends and I would stop by Intuition anytime we went on tour or were on our way to skate Woodward West. I was always impressed by Matt’s hard work, love and dedication to blading. Not only to help foster the scene in his hometown, but to help blading shine and grow around the world. Both Matt and Intuition have been a valuable asset and blessing to our sport for almost two decades. So it was due time that I reached out for an interview to discuss Intuition’s longevity, Matt’s involvement in blading and what the future holds for Intuition Skate Shop.

How did Intuition start?

Intuition started because my great friend Ray Tolentino’s Dad was a property owner and had a storefront available. He heard Ray and I talking about wanting to start a skate shop, so he offered to lease us our first location with two months of free rent!

How many locations have you had?

Intuition is in its third and largest space, which opened in 2006. Like all of our past locations, the current store is in downtown Bakersfield.

What keeps your going?

Rollerblading took a hold of my heart back when I was 16, and hasn’t let go. I still have so much fun skating. Hell, I learned a new line at the last Thursday Night Skate and it felt so damn good!

A candy shop for bladers.

What is your favorite part of running a shop?

My favorite part of running a shop is seeing the fire ignite in someone when they put on skates for the first time. I also love when I see a person return to skating from a long absence. Knowing that they have unlocked the route to the ultimate adventure and form of creativity. I have found that path again, after straying off it.

What ways are you involved in the blading community outside of Intuition?

I announce and commentate for the Blading Cup and other contests and events. Intuition also hosts an annual week at Woodward West skate camp, where some of the team riders and myself will skate with and help teach the campers. This is supported by many brands in the industry, which allows us to ensure all campers go home juiced on skating and equipped to stay active on blades. The 12th Annual Woodward Intuition Week will take place from July 14th-20th, 2019. Save $100 when you sign up by Jan 31st via WoodwardWest.com.

I also write for ONE Magazine from time to time.

How have you managed to adapt with the time and stay in business when so many other retailers have shut down?

For me, it was never a question of “Is Intuition going to survive?” Many people come into the shop and ask if I’m the owner. Often I will say to them, “I’m usually here six days a week, but the shop belongs to whoever comes in here and needs skating gear.”

Intuition will continue to be a mainstay because inline skating is still the biggest thing to me! It is disheartening that other retailers have closed up. However, several new inline storefronts have opened up in America within the last couple of years and I know that they can succeed too!

Have you had to re-invent your business model?

We have not had to re-invent our business model, so to speak. But for the last 5-6 years, we have also carried roller skates, in addition to inline skates.

The emergence of Big Wheel Blading and Tri-Skates has brought a whole new demographic through the doors here at Intuition. This has helped us gain recognition and sales, and also been a catalyst to broadening our product selection. Big Wheel Blading has definitely helped Intuition grow over the last 2-3 years.

Have you noticed any significant change in the numbers of people participating in recreational skating vs. aggressive skating in the US in the past several years?

Yes. There are clearly more people (men, women, and kids) participating in skating, whether it be cruising the bike trail, at roller rinks or at the skate park. Additionally, the last 2-3 years has seen a sustained surge in guys coming “Back to Blading” after years away from the aggressive scene. This is fantastic! Almost every day we receive a call or a walk-in, that begins their conversation by saying “I haven’t bladed in years…”

Sometimes they have been away from the game two decades! And often times they have a kid (or kids) who they get on skates for the first time, while they get back in the saddle. Rollerblading is old enough now to be generational, and it is inspiring to see so many Dads (and Moms) re-embrace what they had fun doing growing up and sharing that with their kids.

How important was picking your location to the success of the business?

Living and running a business in Bakersfield is relatively cheap, compared with anywhere else in California. And luckily for Intuition, Bakersfield is strategically located 1.5 hours north of Los Angeles, and 4 hours south of San Francisco. So we are pretty much smack dab in the middle of California, which is the nucleus for the worldwide skate scene. That happened out of pure fate, as I was born and raised here in the town that Buck Owens built, and God forgot.

Do you offer skate lessons?

We do not offer skate lessons. However, we have printed info from our three local roller rinks (Skateland, Rollerama, and Rollerama West) that includes lesson times, and their open session schedules. We definitely support our local roller rinks!

Do you sell quads?

Yes, we do sell quads. Intuition is a proud dealer for Sure Grip, Riedell, Moxi, and Chaya. We also sell Triple 8, 187 Killer Pads, Smith Scabs, Ennui, Lux Armor, and Sisu protective gear.

Intution carries a nice selection of quads and safety equipment.

What can someone do in their hometown to help inline skating grow?

I still feel the most powerful thing you can do to promote skating in your hometown is to simply continue skating. If you’re out rolling on the bike path, at the skate park or in your neighborhood, people will naturally see that. You cannot help but meet other skaters and peak future and fellow skaters’ interest at the same time.

Scheduled frequent sessions, and online groups (Facebook, group texts, etc.) are a great way to maintain a healthy scene. And that doesn’t cost a dime! We have a weekly Thursday Night Skate (TNS) session from 6-10pm at the Taft, CA skate park, located 30 minutes west of Bakersfield. Many times, we’ll have skaters from out of town roll through and occasionally international skaters will drop in on their holidays. Our TNS sessions are promoted through Intuition’s Twitter, Facebook and Instagram accounts, and anyone on wheels is welcome.

Are most of your sales online or in-store?

We are still brick and mortar first, with people driving from all over, just to be able to try on and compare skates. However, half of our sales are from walk-in clients and half are from phone and online orders. During the Christmas season (Black Friday through mid – January), that percentage skews towards online sales being the lion share.

What other countries do you sell to?

Intuition ships internationally, and has done so for over 15 years. Essentially, if you come to us for skates, and the payment is secured, we’ve got you covered!

How many people come into you store on average during the week and then on the weekend?

During an average week, Intuition will see 15 – 40 walk-in clients. Some are just browsing, some mistakenly think we sell skateboards, and a good deal of them make purchases. On Saturdays, we usually get 5-15 people throughout the day. Intuition is closed Sundays for skating, church, combing the yard, and inner tubing the KILLER KERN RIVER in the summer.

What do you think would help skating be more successful?

I think that making a collective and consorted effort to keep blading kid and family friendly will only help our numbers grow.

Would you ever consider carrying speed skating products?

Yes. Intuition actually offers special order services to any inquiring clients for speed skating brands like Powerslide, Matter, Hyper, etc.

Some of the boots and skates available at Intution.

What sets your store apart from others?

Intuition prides itself on being brick and mortar first. That serves two main purposes. First allowing clients to try on and compare skates to get the right fit. And we all know comfort is Rule #1 when it comes to skates. Secondly creating a scene where you can meet other bladers, check out and purchase skate gear from actual bladers, and maintain a physical hub that gives skaters the world over a place to call home.

What achievement are you most proud of?

I am most proud of the fact that no matter where I go, people are always asking if I have any of my Mom’s World Famous Homemade Intuition Cookies. Thanks, Mom! (Note: You can always pick up a fresh bag at the Blading Cup every year!) Her support is herculean!

Did you ever have any periods where you thought you might not make it?

Yes, after a fire on October 22, 2004 burned down the adjacent Mexican restaurant and nail salon at Intuition’s original location. It was devastating for us. But after cleaning out the old shop, and sifting through what the flames had torched and what we could keep, my senses came to me. I soon found it wasn’t up to me to quit or continue on. Rollerblading needed Intuition. That was a tough year though…

What was the most successful period for you?

The most successful period for Intuition is no doubt the time from Blading Cup through Black Friday, Small Business Saturday and Cyber Monday until mid January. Although this past February, when Jon Julio launched pre-orders for his new Them Skates brand, we had our single most successful day in the history of Intuition – by 12 noon!

Are there a significant amount of aggressive skaters switching over to big wheel aggressive frame set-ups?

Yes. The Oysius frames are especially rising in popularity.

Do you think inline retailers need to sell items outside of inline skating to stay afloat?

I think that is absolutely worth considering selling ‘complimentary’ products. And by that I mean, products and brands that don’t detract from your inline base. Intuition started selling roller skates, quad skates and related accessories 5-6 years ago in response to increasing requests for those products. Even the local roller rinks pro shops don’t have what quad skaters are looking for.

So to nurture their scene, and strengthen our business model, Intuition proudly caters to roller skaters and inline skaters alike. A lot of kids start out on quads as they find them more stable. And many veteran skaters prefer quads, as that is what they have skated for decades on end. When it comes down to it, we use the same bearings, and all the protective gear translates over, so it’s really a win-win.

Polaroid portrait shot by Jonathan Labez

Matt lacing a soul grind at the skatepark.

Does Bakersfield have any recreational social skates?

We did just participate in the Holiday Lights Roll Out, in conjunction with Bike Bakersfield, which is an “active transportation” organization here in Bakersfield. Intuition partnered with Chicks in Bowls Bakersfield, Skateland Roller Rink, and the Bakersfield Diamond Divas Roller Derby Team, to participate in the event. It was a success, and Bike Bakersfield contacted us to express interest in continuing to work together in the future! Stay tuned…

How is the aggressive scene in the Bakersfield area?

The aggressive inline scene in Bakersfield and Central California is as healthy as it’s ever been!

What are your most popular selling products?

Our best selling products are Them Skates, Razors, Roces, K2 kids skates (adjustable Boys and Girls skates), all types of wheels and bearings, and Intuition apparel. (Especially the Chris Haffey t-shirts and hooded sweatshirts)

How many recreational skates do you sell compared to aggressive?

We probably sell one pair of recreational, fitness and Tri-Skates for every three to five pairs of aggressive skates that roll out the door.

Where do you see Intuition Skate Shop in the future?

In the future, I see Intuition Skate Shop helping inline skating grow by getting the retail (think try on!) experience into more densely populated areas and major cities. Whether that is through brick and mortar, pop up shops or mobile shops. The biggest hurdle in buying skates is finding the right fit (read: comfort!). If we can overcome the public’s access to trying on skates, the sky is the limit! We all know how amazingly fun skating is, now let’s get more people into comfortable skates and involved in active skating lifestyles!

What are you current personal setups?

My current set up is as classic as a pitcher of sun tea! Razors Cream skates (Cults) with stock liners, Ground Control Featherlite 3 frames, Ground control 64mm outside wheels, Bones Reds bearings (Thanks Green Eyes!), and Dyna B Smith anti rockers. Simple, clean, and dependable.

Intution’s storefront in downtown Bakersfield, California.

Links

Visit intuitionskate.com to browse their selection.

To keep up to date with everything happening at Intuition, follow them on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.

Contact Information

Brick and Mortar Address Intuition Skate Shop 705 18th Street Bakersfield, CA 93301

Phone Number 661-323-6293

Email Address [email protected]

Store Hours 10am-6pm Monday – Saturday (Closed Sundays)

Eighteen Years and Going: An Interview with Intuition Skate Shop’s Matt Mickey "I'm 19 forever with my skates on," is how old Matt Mickey responded when I asked him his age.

#Bakersfield #california #Intuition #Intuition Skate Shop #Jon Julio #Jonathan Labez #Matt Mickey #Skate shop #skateshop

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junker-town · 7 years

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Trash Or Nawl: Somebody come get Derek Fisher. Please.

Welcome to Trash Or Nawl: a weekly column to help you weed through the Internet Muck. To do that, I’ll be breaking it down to a helpful binary: Is something trash? Or nawl? Topics here will involve sports and whatever else the hell I say is sports or sports adjacent. I’ll do my best to make sense of what's going on each week, but the thing to remember is, no matter what I say, most of these things are still trash.

You might say this is simplistic, and hell yeah it is. This is how I make sense of the chaos. Professional grade hating restores power to my powerless stupid fan hands. I give a middle finger because I've given up clapping.

Trash or Nawl Criteria: It's very simple. We will pick a topic. We will breakdown why or why it isn't trash. You can agree, you can comment or tweet your disagreements. Or we can fight. Really, it's up to you.

Derek Fisher Apparently Is Dancing Now

If y’all didn’t know, Derek Fisher is letting these hips loose on Dancing With The Stars, that show on ABC that makes you remember washed athletes will do anything for money and that network television is still highkey garbage.

Regardless, this is what Fisher is doing these days. Nah, forreal.

Come get your man, @forumbluegold http://pic.twitter.com/rWwRNWbQKs

— Zach Harper (@talkhoops) September 22, 2017

Alright. I don’t know whose responsibility it is anymore to come scoop up they mans Derek Fisher but I need y’all to do that. Form a coalition. Send the memos out. His pride is missing. And so is his rhythm.

The NBA should sue him. Kobe didn’t die for this. DLo didn’t ruin Nick Young’s rep for this. If I’m Adam Silver, I’d rather keep Derek Fisher in a box with air holes in em than let him go on national television and display whatever the fuck those hip movements are supposed to be.

Bow Wow and Kurtis Blow should file a cease and desist for using that song. Lakers fans, y’all gotta call Matt Barnes to wrap this up. Nah, fuck it. I’ll call Matt Barnes. Finna tell him a shorter, lighter version of Mr. Clean is on some hardwood in a Target-Brand hybrid of a jumpsuit and a onesie with athleticism that wouldn’t even make Cirque-De-Solei’s G-League team.

Goddamn, Derek. Anyway. I’m sure y’all can guess where this is going. Stop wearing Dansko clogs to work, my guy.

VERDICT: SUPER TRASH

Tom Brady Wrote A Book

That dude who plays quarterback for that team in that region that thinks it’s all one city wrote a book. Yup, Tom Brady, The World’s Biggest Goober, wrote a book to teach you, yes you, how to also be The World’s Biggest Goober.

It’s a 300-page opus about Brady’s life, how stretchy his muscles are, how water stops people from getting sunburned, and how you can also be handsome and wear Uggs to weddings and be a general badass.

If I was from Boston or the state that thinks it’s Boston, I’d probably warm up a nice bowl of chowder, kick my feet up, say something to my friends I probably shouldn’t say in public and dive into this book, which I’ll eventually say is better than Between The World & Me and The Autobiography of Malcolm X.

**looks around**

Oh, that’s right. I’m not from shitty-ass Boston. So, I guess that means we should tell the truth.

Tom Brady is bird. Ya mans is a bird. You can buy these lies if you want but last I checked: drinking water won't stop you from turning redder than a Pop-Tart in a lukewarm toaster, my momma ain’t letting me wear Uggs to a wedding or ever, and this isn’t Space Jam, water isn’t some magical-ass steroid that’ll allow you to throw touchdowns, win five Super Bowls and try to be nonchalant in the face of questions about a White Supremacist President. Yeah, and be a cheater. That’s right, Tommy. You a goddamn cheater. Though, that may be your most endearing quality. Well, and dancing like a dork to Migos.

youtube

Verdict: TRASH

Addendum: Unless you are from the greater Boston area, then this book should be up for a Pulitzer.

Bill Polian’s coded language about Lamar Jackson

The only reason we have to talk about this is because Bill Polian’s Flip-Flop Face Ass came out his mouth and slandered The FLAWWWWDUHH Gawd: Lamar Jackson.

Here’s an excerpt of what a dude who got fired even with Peyton Manning said about quarterbacks:

Polian: “I don’t think that Lamar, the Louisville kid’s in that discussion, in fact there’s a question that he may be, he might be a receiver.”

[loud yelling from the hosts, one said: “Are you kidding me?”]

Polian: “No, I’m not kidding you. And that has to do with girth and skill set as well.”

....

Keyshawn Johnson: “You hurting me, Bill...because I think he’s a NFL quarterback.”

Polian: “I’m not saying he isn’t, I just don’t think he’s in the class of the other three.”

The “other three” Polian refers to are Josh Rosen, Sam Darnold and Josh Allen. Just to clear the air for the If You’re Over 6’3, White And Tall You Are A First Rounder club, only one of those three dudes look like they are a first rounder. That’s Darnold, who also looks like he’s never smiled in his life and could be the second coming of The Football Robot AKA Andrew Luck.

Josh Rosen plays for the JV team of Los Angeles in Under Armour gear, so I can’t give him my blessing. And I don’t know what a Josh Allen is or where Wyoming is on a map, but I know DAMN WELL he ain’t no good at throwin’ the football. If you looked that bad against Iowa, I can’t help you, beloved. There’s nothing good in Iowa. Just the future 2021 site of Dr. Ben Carson’s Conservative But Publicly Welcoming Mega-Church.

So, we come back to Jackson. The Heisman. Diet Mike Vick. The Hope Of Black Quarterbacks Past, Present & Future. Now, we don’t have to have a big talk about how wild Polian’s comments were, kids. But mobile quarterbacks are lit. Donovan McNabb thought he was one for years. There’s plenty of examples. We even let y’all call Tim Tebow a dual-threat for 4 years, so you won’t ruin Lamar or his younger son Kelly Bryant.

The only advice I can give here is not to trust men whose faces could be mistaken for plastic your toddlers shouldn’t eat. The might not know about football or they might be your president. Depends on the year. Both can be true at the same time.

Verdict on Mobile Quarterbacks: Not Trash

Verdict on Bill Polian: Regular White Guy Trash

If you disagree with these verdicts, comment below. As stated earlier, you can agree, comment, tweet through your frustration or fight. Really, it’s up to you.

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