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writersdrug · 10 months ago

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Bartender Ghost when waitress reader gives someone a hurricane shot

I had to look this up and now I want to do this so badly

Slight NSFW, slapping

It wasn't a busy night; some new faces on a Thursday evening, the three regulars that practically lived on the barstools, a group of college boys in the corner...

Ghost doesn't bat an eye when you put in four shots of tequila and four waters for those punks, an excited smile on your face. He pours them quickly, eyes narrowing at them as they eye you with their own giddy expression, clapping each other on their backs.

He can't help but check in. "They botherin' ya?"

You laugh and take the tray of shots from him. "Not at all - watch this."

He grabs a glass and starts polishing it with a rag as you saunter back to the college students, ass barely contained in your high waisted shorts (he knows he said the dress code was "not your birthday suit", but you're pushing it in those shorts and that tanktop). Pauses his actions when you pass the shots around, then plant your ass on the table in front of one of the guys, thighs spread and holding a plastic solo cup of water in one hand.

The bloke takes the shot - you promptly throw the water in his face and rear your hand back, slapping him across the cheek with your open palm.

The glass nearly shatters in his grip. He's about to scale the counter and grab you by the scruff of your neck... but they were cheering. The other three men slapping his back and laughing as he wipes the water from his face - he gets up from his seat as you grab another cup of water, grinning at the new fella that sits between your legs.

You do the same thing: wait for him to take the shot, drench him in water, and smack your hand across his face. The crack echoes around the pub, followed by their laughter and loud curses. Ghost doesn't let himself yell at you from across the bar, not when he's stiffening up in his pants and wondering how best to ask you to do that to him.

Soap peeks his head out from the kitchen, right as you deliver the third smack. "Feck is goin' on?!" He asks bewilderdly.

Simon's at a loss for words, palms gripping the edges of the bar as he watches the last guy sit in the chair between your thighs, looking up at you like you're some kind of succubus - and you are, staring down at the lad with a smirk as he takes his shot, dousing him with the water and delivering the final blow.

"Shite- gonna try tha' with me after closin'?" Soap says, the both of them watching as you pluck a twenty from each of their hands and stuff them into your bra.

Ghost finds himself again, masking his sexual frustration with his usual grumpiness. "Where's tha' burger I put in fifteen minutes ago?" He says, making the Scot turn back into the kitchen with a dreamy sigh.

You make your way back to the bar and lean against it, still smiling ear to ear, your chest pushing against the counter - Simon can see the edges of the bills poking out of your tank top. "You ever seen that before?"

"Don't do tha' again." He snaps, glaring down at you with his arms folded over his burly chest, making you pout. "This ain't some college bar, I don' want tha' kinda crowd 'ere, understand?"

"They want eight more shots." You said, looking at him through your sweet, doe eyes.

Fuck - bringing in business, and getting to watch you slap the shit out of those guys? Pretending it was himself? He grumbled and snagged more shot glasses from the shelf.

#call of duty #bartender ghost #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #simon riley x you #ghost cod #cod blurbs

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whxtedreams · 1 year ago

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Chapter 10: What Reminds You of Them

Blood Runs Thicker than Water - Joel & F!Reader (Platonic DBF!)

Summary: The weight of the new world is heavy on everyones shoulders. Maybe a card game will help?

Word Count: 2.3k

Tags: Mentions of loss, mentions of readers mom, mentions of sarah, reader has short hair, depression (myles), everyone just dealing with shit, joel trying to explain to reader that her dad is just a lil sad.

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist - Read on AO3

Chapter 10: What Reminds You of Them

The horizon is bathed in a soft, hazy red glow, casting a warm hue across the landscape. Down below in the valley, a thick, dense fog weaves its way amid the mountains, slowly creeping up the sides like wisps of cotton. Scattered across the valley floor are various transmission towers, their metal skeletons once humming with activity. Now, nature begins its slow takeover as they lay dormant on the forgotten grounds, vines twisting up the towers and trees gradually swallowing them into their embrace.

The sun makes its slow descent behind the towering mountains, its last rays casting long shadows over the valley below. The moon takes its rightful place high up in the heavens, overseeing the narrow hiking trails snaking through the terrain. You sit at the edge of the rocky cliff, your legs tucked up against your chest as you take in the breathtaking view. Your thoughts drift back to the previous day, remembering how you had explored the valley. You had braved the climb up a fallen transmission tower to cross rapid waters, much to your father's worry.

Your eyes follow as Joel and Tommy appear in your line of vision at the bottom of the steep trail, their rifles held at the ready. They had ventured out around noon, armed with the intentions of hunting, and their efforts are now evident as they make their way up the trail, the weight of a freshly hunted deer in their grasp.

Your face lights up at the sight of the brothers, and you quickly rise to your feet, a grin spread wide across your face. You break into a jog, making your way back to the historic pub where your small group has sought shelter for the night.

You emerge from the tree line and navigate your way through the parking lot, skirting around dilapidated cars and piles of rusted scrap. In the distance, the pub comes into view, standing majestically tall as the last rays of the setting sun cast a warm glow over its brick exterior. The building takes on a castle-like quality, silhouetted against the orange and red hues.

You struggle against the considerable weight of the oversized front door, your feet shifting slightly on the ground as you summon all your strength to push it open. Muscles straining, you slowly creak the door open, the heavy wood groaning with resistance.

Footsteps echo loudly on the tiled floors as you race through the old building. As you reach the top of the stairs that would have been used by guests during the pub’s prime, you come to a halt in front of one of the rooms your father has started to set up camp in.

He stands with his back towards you, his gaze fixed out the window. Candles on the bedside tables cast a flickering, buttery light onto the mustard-colored walls, the wax of the candles starting to drip down the candlesticks. The rooms are basic but cozy, equipped with the bare minimum - a double bed, a chair, and a floor lamp along with the bedside tables.

You approach him silently and stop next to him, curious to see whatever it is that he's observing so intently. However, upon peering out the window, all you see is the peaceful sight of birds flying to their nests in the trees as the day comes to an end. You glance up at your father, taking in his expressionless face as his gaze remains fixed on the outdoor view.

You observe him closely, noticing the way his eyes glisten and his jaw clenches, a familiar expression that mirrors your own when your emotions begin to overflow. Concern tugs at your heartstrings as you speak softly, the question falling from your lips, "Why are you sad?"

He jolts slightly as he looks down at you, having been lost in thought before your sudden presence pulled him back to reality. With a heavy sigh, he glances back out the window as the light from Joel and Tommy's torches become visible. His gaze becomes distant as he speaks. "Your mom and I used to visit a lot of places just like this one," he says softly. "She was quite the history buff." He pauses, his words tinged with a hint of nostalgia, before he walks away from the window towards the door.

Your dad's casual comment about your mother catches your attention, and your eyes widen with keen interest. It is rare for him to bring her up in conversation, usually brushing off any mention of her name. So the fact that he's mentioned her unprompted piques your curiosity - and you are determined to grasp onto any details he shares.

You turn away from the window, a question about your mother on the tip of your tongue. But before you can voice it, your father has already made his way halfway down the stairs, leaving you alone in the room.

By the time you reach the downstairs area, Tommy is already hauling the slain deer into the small kitchen behind the bar. Joel, meanwhile, drops his bag onto the counter top with a thud and proceeds to start unloading its contents. He carefully places the assortment of items they'd managed to scavenge on top of the bar.

You clamber onto the stool next to your father as his conversation with Joel ends with hushed voices as your eyes scan the items spread out on the counter. A few sealed packages of food and some basic necessities cover the surface. You cast a quick glance at the finds, trying to hide your disappointment. You understand that survival means only grabbing what's necessary and nothing more, but you can't help but feel just a bit let down.

Your dad's fingers close around a packet of cigarettes, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. "I can't believe you actually found some," he mutters, extracting one from the pack. He rises from the stool and announces, "I'll be outside." Without further words, he turns and begins to make his way out of the room.

You pivot on your stool, intending to follow your father, but Joel gently suggests it might be best to give your dad some time alone right now.

You reluctantly turn away from your dad's departing figure and return your attention to Joel. With a heavy sigh, you rest your arms on the bar.

Joel pats at his coat pockets, a frown of concentration etched on his face. He rummages through them, eventually pulling out a small yellow and white striped cloth from his back pocket. With an enigmatic smile, he stretches his arm across the bar and hands it to you. You take the item, your fingers curling around the fabric as you regard it with cautious intrigue.

You unfurl the fabric and examine it quizzically, your curiosity piqued. Expecting to find something concealed within, you're momentarily surprised to find it's just cloth. "What's this?" you ask.

A soft chuckle escapes from Joel as he shakes his head, moving to stand beside you. Taking the cloth from your hands, he begins folding it with practiced ease. "It's a bandanna," he clarifies, positioning himself behind you. He then places the cloth on your forehead, skillfully tying the ends beneath your short ponytail.

"Keeps the hair out of your face." His touch is gentle as he removes the hair tie from your hair, allowing the short strands to fall loosely around your neck. Joel moves to stand beside you, and you notice the subtle rise of a soft smile at the corner of his mouth as he carefully adjusts the fabric, ensuring it's secure.

You shake your head to test it out and smile as the hair stays out of your eyes.

Tommy reappears in the room, holding two half-full bottles of alcohol in his hands, his face lit up with an excited grin. "Looks like we're eating and drinking well tonight," he declares with a booming chuckle. He sets the bottles down on the opposite side of the bar and proceeds to scour the cabinets for unbroken glasses.

With a glass in hand, Tommy turns and starts pouring alcohol for both himself and Joel. He pushes the glass across the counter towards Joel and takes a long sip of his own drink. Then, he glances your way, nodding approvingly. "Yellow suits you," he praises, his words accompanied by a small smile.

You murmur a quick thanks in response as Joel and Tommy start discussing their plans for the freshly caught deer. Their conversation fills the background as you fiddle with the ends of the bandanna.

You peer over your shoulder towards the parking lot through the large window. The world outside is steeped in almost complete darkness, the stars above offering minimal light. Your father is seated on the husk of a car, a small lantern by his side and a lit cigarette between his lips, casting a flickering glow against the side of his face that you can see.

Joel's hand gently rests on your shoulder. His gaze meets yours, accompanied by a sympathetic smile. "Come on," he murmurs, a playful tone in his voice. "Why don't we play a game of cards while Tommy cooks us dinner? Let me beat you again."

A disapproving frown creeps onto your face, and you let out an exaggerated huff before jumping off the stool. "You only win because you cheat," you retort, moving towards a table by the fireplace with a pout.

Joel responds with a scoff, an amused grin tugging at his lips. He takes his seat at the table, retrieving the deck of cards and diligently shuffling them in his hands. "Is that so?" he retorts, his tone both challenging and playful.

You can't help but gloat as you take the cards he's dealt. "Tommy told me so," you declare as you begin organizing the cards in your hand, the hint of a smirk on your face.

Joel responds with a resigned sigh, his focus on sorting out his own cards. "Just because he says somethin’, doesn't mean you gotta believe him, sweetheart," he warns, his tone a mix of gentle teasing and mild irritation. He shakes his head slightly, seemingly displeased with the cards he's been dealt.

You can't help but chuckle as you place down a card on the table. "He told me you would say that," you repeat, your smile widening as you revel in the thought of having anticipated his response.

Despite your smug attitude, Joel remains unfazed. He exhales a deep sigh and places his card on top of yours, matching your play.

Joel ends up winning four times in a row.

Your dad remains mostly withdrawn over the following week, his expression distant and detached. Both Tommy and Joel seem to intervene whenever you attempt to engage in conversation with him, subtly redirecting your attention elsewhere.

You've seen your dad behave this way before, but never for this extended period of time. Day after day, you wake up, silently hoping that it will be the day that he snaps out of it and returns to his usual self — just like he has in the past.

And yet, he doesn’t.

On the sixth day while you sit by the river, lost in your thoughts as you watch the soothing flow of the water, you turn to Joel. "Have I done something to upset my dad?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, the concern palpable in your words.

Joel's expression softens as he hears your question. He immediately pulls you into his side, pulling you closer to him. "Of course not, princess," he replies gently, his voice filled with a mix of reassurance and tenderness.

After a moment's pause, Joel continues, his tone soft and understanding. "He's just a little sad, that's all," he explains, his gaze fixed on the flowing water before you.

You scowl slightly at Joel's explanation, genuinely confused. "Sad?" you repeat, your voice tinged with confusion. "Why would he be sad?" The situation doesn't make sense to you, and you look up at Joel, seeking clarification.

Joel lets out a deep sigh, his eyes meeting yours. He tugs gently at the bandanna tied around your forehead, his touch gentle and tender. "He just misses your mom," he explains, his voice tinged with melancholy. "He misses how things used to be, how the world used to be."

You murmur a soft "Oh" in response, leaning into Joel's side as your gaze drifts to Tommy, who is washing his hair on the other side of the river with your dad. The silence that follows is filled with your unspoken questions and thoughts, hanging heavy in the air.

You turn your gaze back to Joel, a slight frown of confusion creasing your forehead. "Why is he missing her now?" you ask. "She died when I was born."

Joel takes a deep breath, seemingly contemplating how to explain it to you. "Sometimes," he begins slowly, "there are things that happen that remind us of something we've lost. It brings back memories."

You fall silent, mulling over his words as you begin to comprehend what Joel is trying to say. It's then that you recall your own fears and how the sight of fire still makes you think of losing Joel. The memory of being caught in the fire still haunts your dreams even years later.

You realize that your dad, like you, must also suffer from the same pain. The memory of losing someone you love can be triggered by the smallest things and bring forth powerful emotions, even years afterward.

“What reminds you of Sarah?�� You ask, barely above a whisper.

There's a sudden tightness in Joel's grip on your arm, and you can feel the shuddering exhale of his breath. The mention of Sarah's name brings a flash of pain to his face, as memories of his lost daughter flood his mind. For a brief moment, his grief is palpable.

He's silent, his gaze transfixed on the river, his knuckles turning white as his grip on you involuntarily tightens. After a few moments, he finally speaks, his voice thick with emotion.

"Everything.”

Click here for Chapter 11

Notes

this is kind of a intermission, just a filler tbh. not extreamly happy about this chapter but i wanted to write them travelling before they reach somewhere suitable to stay.

If you want to be tagged, please comment on the masterlist for this series and I will add you. If you want to be taken off, please DM so i don't miss your request.

Every comment, like and reblog means the world to me. please let me know your thoughts about this, i want to ramble about this story so much.

tags: @sunandmuun , @rain-soaked-sun, @frootloops1213 , @samarav , @geralallfandoms , @joelmillersblog , @severussimp , @kitdjarin1 , @yesjazzywazzylove-blog , @justanotherteen12@lils-1979 @elisha-chloe

#joel miller #the last of us #pedro pascal #joel miller x platonic!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tommy miller

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ch0k3herwithaseaview · 1 year ago

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@jegulus-microfic | march 8 bar | words: 747

did i use two tiktok sounds in this one? yes. yes, i did. am i sorry or ashamed? not in the slightest

enjoy <33

“We’re going out tonight,” Barty said without any preamble.

“Hello to you too, Bartemius,” Regulus replied with an eye roll. “Should I congratulate you on this decision or pity you?” His friend laughed at that.

“No, you didn’t get it. We are going out tonight,” the other guy said, emphasizing the word ‘we’. Regulus stiffened at the statement.

“Fuck off, I’m not going anywhere,” he said, going back to painting his nails.

“Yes, you are! You’ve been moping ever since that Max guy...

“Matty.”

“Same shit, anyways—he left you for some chick! C’mon, Reggie, it’ll be fun; maybe you’ll even get lucky and get some." Barty continued, catching his attention at the last part. Yeah, maybe a rebound with some stranger would make him feel better.

“What should I wear?” There was a loud ‘woohoo’ from the other end of the line, and then Barty started talking about outfits Regulus should put on.

***

An hour later, they both stood at the entrance to the pub called Thirteen Needles, waiting for Evan and Pandora. It didn’t look like a stereotypical British pub with its unmatched chairs and sofas and some colorful lamps thrown around the place. All in all, it was a nice place.

When the dark-skinned siblings showed up, they only managed to smoke half a cigarette each.

“Looking good, Reggie,” Pandora said as Evan approached Barty and started kissing him eagerly. Regulus looked down at his clothes; he wore a black DIY sleeveless crop top with Marina’s Electra Heart cover, tight black pants, and low Docs. Yeah, he looked good.

In response, he just smiled at the blonde girl, making a gesture to come in.

All four of them sat at a table with high chairs, not far from the bar. After their second round of tequila shots, Pandora leaned closer to him. “The bartender is looking at you like you’re the eighth wonder of the world,” she whispered in his ear. Immediately, he turned around to see the man she was talking about, and he was met with the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. The guy noticed him looking and smiled the brightest smile, at which Regulus spit his drink a little. The bartender had the audacity to chuckle at that.

Regulus turned back to his friends, thinking about the rebound he had considered earlier. He ended his drink in one big gulp, putting the glass back down with a thud.

“Anyone wants anything? No? Good” Regulus said this quickly, jumping from his stool and heading straight for the bar.

When he got there, the Pretty Eyes Guy was busy with another customer, and Regulus had time to look at him properly.

The Guy looked like some Latino god with his tanned skin, well-built arms covered in patchwork tattoos, messy hair, and gold accessories—glasses, earrings, and a single signet on his left hand’s middle finger. He had nice hands, Regulus thought.

When it was his turn to order, The Guy’s eyes sparkled with joy.

“Hi there, what can I get you?” Oh god, he had such a nice, deep voice.

“Um, one long island, please.” His voice, on the other hand, sounded like he just had a stroke.

“On it” The Guy winked and started preparing his order. Throughout the whole thing, Regulus's eyes continued to follow his movements. At some point, the guy smirked and said, “If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I’m going to catch a cold,” and it was Regulus turn to chuckle.

“Oh, nice one…”

“James” The Guy, James, filled in, stealing a glimpse.

“Nice one, James,” Regulus said softly.

When James finished preparing his drink and Reg took out his phone to pay for it, the bartender shook his head. “On the house. Enjoy…”

“Regulus”

“Oh. Oh, I like that." James smiled that bright smile again, and Regulus only winked in response.

He went to order three more times, only flirting innocently. He found the courage to speak his mind when he got there for the fifth time.

“So, listen, James. Would-“

“I’m off at one and live just down the street,” the bartender interrupted, tilting his head and smirking at him. “My roommate is out all night, so you can scream my name as loud as you need to, sugar,” he added, lowering his voice.

And Regulus, well, he just laughed at James. How can someone be so good-looking and talk so badly?

Either way, as Barty said, he got really lucky and actually got some.

#jegulus #starchaser #dead gay wizards #james potter #james x regulus #regulus black #jegulus microfic #marauders #the marauders #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #pandora rosier #modern au

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evanxcooper · 3 months ago

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starter for @arlocontreras

location: wingman's pub

"Damn, look at you," she playfully slapped Arlo's arm as she walked up to him. "Lookin' better and better each time I see you." The foster community in Kismet Harbor was close knit and she'd been around when Arlo was a foster kid in the Cooper household. "How've you been?" She questioned him, moving to sit in the chair across from him at the high top table. "I've been lookin' forward to this for weeks, I hope you know." Their schedules just hadn't aligned enough in the earlier weeks of the month.

#evan cooper || threads #threads || w. arlo contreras #queued

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stranger224 · 10 months ago

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Kinky Kaptions: Remember

“I’m telling you this chick's tits were out here!” Gary bragged to his buddies as they shared a drink at a local sports bar

“And I’m telling you you are full of shit! That girl you were bragging about being a smoking 11 last week; I looked her up, she is barely a 6” his buddy Andy responded.

“I said she was an 11 when I was drunk! Looking her up sober doesn't count. But that doesn't matter cause the chick I was with the other night was an 11 sober! Her tits were beautiful and her ass, god; I wish I could remember her name.” Gary said.

His friend Oliver snorted. “Of course you can't, then we could find her and see if you're full of shit!”

Steve and Pete nodded in agreement. They had heard Gary telling tales of exploits before, and the women were never as hot as he made them sound.

“Actually he is being quite modest, we did have fun the other night”. A sultry voice added to the conversation. Its owner stepping up to the table. The hottest woman any of the men had ever see casually came into view. Her fiery red hair hung like a waterfall down her back, her breasts full DDs that had been spilling out of her bra, ending in an ass that could stop traffic. She settled that plush rear into Gary’s lap and cheekily took a sip of his beer. Gary for his part felt like a king, the way her soft flesh felt on his lap made him hard so fast he got a head rush. Feeling it jiggled while she got comfortable he was surprised he didnt cum on the spot. She kisses his cheek before continuing “You left out the best part, the blond with the giant rack that gave you a tit job while I was in the shower. Remember?” The memory forming in Gary’s mind, how could he have forgotten?Those tits had been amazing, round, perky, they were obviously implants. But who cared when they were wrapped around his dick?

A giggle brought him back to reality. A blond strode up to the table, her heels clicking on the polished wood floor of the bar. She leaned over Gary’s head so her massive tits rested on the top of his chair “Yea that totally was fun! She said in a high pitched girly voice. “But not as much fun as the week before I bet. You showed me a picture of that girl, the one with lips so pumped up she could barely talk Member?”

Gary certainly did. It had been the best blow job he had ever had, right in the back of this pub. The guys had bet him he couldn't get that chick's number, but he had sure showed them. She had been pretty, but what she could do with her lips. He almost regretted giving her a fake number. Then again, if he hadn't then he wouldn't have met, what were their names again? The blond and the redhead, hell what was Lip chick’s name? He searched for it but it never appeared. It was a painful flick to the forehead that got him to focus this time. When he focused Lip Chick was at his side. Her beautifully sculpted lips turned into an adorable pouty frown. “If you had gifen me your real number, You would hafe seen what these could really do. but oh well you're lost." She walked up to Pete and settled into his lap with a wet kiss on his cheek. The group ordered another round and relaxed. Gary particularly enjoyed how the Redhead felt on his cock. He hoped he could get the Blond and the Redhead to give a repeat performance.

A bit later the blond and the redhead started arguing about something Gary hadn’t been paying attention to, only tuning in to hear “Don't get me wrong Red, you have a beautiful ass but this woman Gary and I played with the other week end, I was worried she wouldn't be able to get through the door of my apartment with hips that wide. Member Gare?

Gary’s hand reflexively squeezed Red's meaty thigh as the memory came to him. Him and The Blond had found the Brunette at a club, chatted her up, and brought her home. The memory of his cock squeezing between her soft ass cheeks was overwhelming. She had felt so good that words failed him, particularly when the same brunette settled herself on Andy’s lap “I hear my name. Were you too sluts talking about little old me?” The brunette had a lovely southern drawl that matched with the rugged flannel and khaki shorts she had shoved her oversized curves into. Blondie squealed excitedly, throwing herself into The Brunette’s arms before wrapping her own around the woman’s hip and rear, trying fruitlessly to get her arms all the way around the soft orbs while kissing her aggressively.

“Get a room you too” Lip Chick said taking a break from her own make out session.

“I actually just came from mine. After a wonderful fuck session with Gary and Olivia there” said the brunette coming up for air to toss Oliver’s hair. Oliver looked confused “Olivia?”

“Oh no need to hide from us Olivia. We all know how much of a bimbo you are. All those pink slutty outfits you wear. That's how you ended up in a room with Gare bear and me. Gary was mauling those massive tits of yours. While I sat on his face and he ate me out, oh it felt so good you remember right Gary?”

Gary did. The brunette’s ass was so large he had been afraid it was going to suffocate him. That just made his cock harder. Which had made Olivia scream even louder. She had bounced on him so hard, that her tits had flopped out of the pink wrap top she had been using to conceal a bit of modesty. Lucky she had put it back on before coming down to drink with him and the lads she was such a ditz he half expected her to forget it. He looked at her over the table and saw she was playing with her nipples through the shirt “Oh yea that was hot! God, I'm such a ditz, how could I forget an orgasm that good!”

“Maybe because you were too busy masturabing to that night you Gary and Steffi over there had a threesome.” Red said. nodding over to Steven who had been quietly enjoying his beer before all of the women had come over. “You had been telling us that Steffi was such a blond she's more of a ditz than you are. Remember Gary?”

Of course Gary did. He remembered thinking this girl was such an idiot it was good thing she had nice tit’s. He also remembered pounding her into such a stupor she hadn't been able to form words for an hour, not that words were really what her mouth was for. That had been the best head he had gotten before he met Lip Chick. For her part, Steffi just sat in her chair, vacant eyes staring off into space, a ribbon of drool on her glossy lips.

Lip Chick stopped making out with Andy for a moment. “Remember the Titty twins Gary? What were their names? Andi and Petra! God those bolt-ons were nice. We had such a wild night!

Gary was starting to get annoyed. Of course he remembered the twins, they were so alike in every way they could be clones of each other. Right down to their massive matching set of tits that they were currently resting on the bar table. Large tumblers of booze wedged into their cleavage. One of them, Andi, Gary thought had resumed making out with Lip Chick. Looking around he saw all of the different bimbos he had slept with recently. “I guess I must be a great lover to pull this many hotties,” he said. As the words left his mouth it was like a record scratched. All eyes looking at him and the voices seemed to be speaking in unison “What are you talking about Gabrielle? We came out tonight because it's girls night, and you because you're our bimbo bestie. Remember?”

#bimbotf #bimbotransformation

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christinescupofcoffee · 6 months ago

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dead man walking

chapter seven: silver and cold

The pub was warmly lit and bustling with life as Alex and Krista made their way into the front section: the combined smell of jager and fried fish greeted them like a monster with gigantic claws. She lingered back behind him and he kept one hand up on the top of his yarmulke to keep it from falling onto the heavy dark wooden floor. Josh could not have picked out a more seedy place for himself because Alex had gone into nicer pubs with Eric and Greg in the times in which Testament toured the British Isles. But John had spotted him and thus, he gave them both a slight description of the mysterious keyboardist; and once Alex pressed his back to the wall next to the doorway, he and Krista searched about the room for him.

A few patrons passed them in a gaggle of high laughter and Krista huddled closer to him, even though they had each downed their drinks as far as the two of them could tell.

He let his eyes wander over to the high narrow table on the other side of the room, the site of a tall lanky man with a narrow pallid face and long frizzy jet black hair that sprawled over his shoulders like the unkempt ears of a mature poodle. Tattoos blanketed his arms like lacy sleeves despite his black shirt and his eyes swept about the room as if he searched for something more.

“I think that's him over there,” Alex pointed out in a loud enough voice for her to hear. “Long inky black hair at twelve o'clock.”

She grasped onto his sleeve as he wove through the crowded floor to that table, perched slightly above from the floor as though he watched the kingdom down before him. His fingers curled along the sides of the empty bottle before him.

“Are you Josh?” Krista greeted him, and he raised his somber gaze to the two of them.

“What's to know?” he asked them in a gruff voice laced with that distinct Brooklyn accent.

“We really just came to say 'hi' to you, but you look like you could use more than that, though,” Alex confessed to him.

“Have a seat,” Josh beckoned him, and Alex sank down in the chair next to him. His green eyes scanned over the light patch and the yarmulke, both rested upon the crown of Alex's head and he tilted his head a bit. “You're that kid from Testament. Alex, is it?”

“Yeah. Alex Skolnick.”

“Shalom,” he added with a gesture to the yarmulke. “Happy Hanukkah.”

“Yeah, shalom aleichem, and Happy Hanukkah,” Alex said with a touch of the yarmulke and a nervous grin on his face.

“You're a fucking badass,” Josh remarked.

“Well, I dunno 'bout that,” Alex insisted with a shrug of his shoulders. “Just do what I do as best as I can.”

“Best as you can? You're one of the fastest guitar players on the planet right now. You deserve more than that.”

“A lot of people like to talk, though,” he pointed out.

“We Jews need to stay together, especially in the music world,” Josh declared to him with a wink. He then turned to Krista, who had huddled up to the right of him. “And you are?”

“Krista Belladonna—Joey's widow.”

“Oh, yeah, from Anthrax. I just think of all the times I've seen Scott with an Agnostic Front shirt.” He grinned at that for a few seconds, and then his expression returned to that of seriousness. “I'm so sorry about him.”

She closed her eyes and shrugged her shoulders. “I do have something to remember him by, though.” She set a hand on her lower belly and he nodded his head at that.

“Congratulations,” he said in a low voice and with a thin lipped smile on his face. “Boy or girl?”

“Too soon to know yet,” she confessed.

Josh peeled off pieces of the label on the side of the bottle with two fingers. Those fingers were slender, elegant even, as if he had crawled out onto the earth with the intent to play some sort of spooky music with Peter and the rest of his band. As a result, he peeled off the pieces in perfectly straight strips, and they curled once he set them down on the table.

“So are you on tour right now?” Krista asked him.

“Sort of,” he replied. “We put out our first two records and they hadn't really done anything besides sit on record store shelves. And then this last one came out and we got asked to play over here overseas. We tried to do it a couple of years ago for our first album but—”

He peeled off another piece of the label and let it drop onto the top of the table like a big feather.

“But what?” Krista asked him.

“Some people over here thought Pete was a Nazi, even though I'm a part of his band,” he said in a single breath. “We bounced back home as fast as we could after that—Pete was really down about that, too, like he really wanted to visit Norway and Sweden, the places of his heritage.” Alex slumped his shoulders a bit at that, and he wondered if he reacted too strongly to Peter the first time around when he came to the house in upstate New York.

“We haven't necessarily toured since then,” he explained, “because there hasn't been any money to tour. I've always seen becoming a paramedic if things really go south for us, but I have hope for us, though.” He turned to Alex. “I'm sure you know about that sort of thing.”

“Oh, yeah, Chuck and Eric have other endeavors besides Testament,” he replied, “and I've wanted to do other things myself.”

“Hence why you left, right?”

“Exactly. Well, and there were some—things going on behind closed doors and I had to get away from it.”

“I can't imagine us developing a bunch of drama like that,” Josh confessed with a shake of his head, “Pete, Kenny, and Sal—our old drummer Sal Abruscato who just left—we're all friends since grade school. We grew up in Brooklyn together, all around Bensonhurst, Brighton Beach, and Coney Island. That's home to us.”

“My parents are from Brooklyn,” Alex said, “my dad is in particular.”

“Really?”

“Yup, Sheep's Head neighborhood.”

“Good ol' Sheep's Head. You kind of have that look to you—like you could very easily pass off as a New York boy.”

Alex raised an eyebrow and he wondered what he meant by that.

“I could be wrong, though,” Josh continued as he peeled off another layer of label from the bottle. “I've been wrong before about people many a number of times.”

“It's better to be in question about things,” Alex said, and Josh nodded his head at that.

“There's this belief about us being vampires or some shit,” he confessed, “but we're not, though. We're as human as the two of you or anyone else here in this pub. We each have secrets. We each have a past. We each have hang ups and a closet full of skeletons. We have things we're not proud of.”

He turned his attention to Krista, and his expression never changed for one second.

“I can tell you this right now that Joey's death was no accident,” he told her in a low voice.

Her mouth dropped agape at that.

“How do you know?” she asked him with a lean in closer to his face.

“Like I said, Pete and I have been friends since we were kids and we tell each other everything—” He was cut off by someone's throwing of a bottle at the wall behind him. Josh and Alex both ducked down where Krista scrambled to her feet; the former yanked his coat, which he draped off of the back of the tall spindly chair, and he held it underneath his arm as if it was a football.

“We should leave,” Josh told Alex, and he set a hand on his shoulder and they rounded the side of the table where they met up with Krista. She kept her head bowed as the three of them hurried towards the edge of the room, by the bathrooms. The brawl broke out before them, and Alex held onto Krista's arm and Josh led them to the back door at the end of the corridor there.

He pushed the door open and Alex and Krista followed suit right behind him. They fled out into the cold, damp black night outside right as someone threw a bottle out of the front window, followed by a chair.

“Jesus, I haven't seen a bar fight like this in years,” Alex noted as they scurried away from there and towards the street.

“There's another little place down the street here,” Josh pointed out as he tugged his long black coat over his body, “you know, if the two of you want a drink or something. I gotta get back to my room.”

“What were you going to say to us back there?” Krista asked him.

“Huh?”

“You were going to say something to us back there. In that you and Pete tell each other everything. You were gonna say something else.”

“Oh, yeah. He and I were talking about Joey not long ago—there is in fact some deception there. If it happens to the two of us, and to someone like Alex, then it can happen to him. The music industry is capable of these things, and someone along the way lied to you, Krista, and you deserve the truth about him. And I pray that your child knows the truth as well.”

He ran his fingers through his inky black hair and he bowed across the street to the hotel. Alex and Krista huddled next to each other to keep warm.

“I'm tense,” he confessed, and she set her hands on his slender shoulders and massaged him. She locked eyes with him and she leaned in closer to his face.

“I'm definitely going to have to be mama bear for you now,” she told him, and she tilted her head to the side for a better look at the cozy little place next door. “You want some cocoa?”

“Please,” he quipped, and she led him there, complete with her hand rested upon his shoulder. She thus propped open the door for him and he ducked into the brightly lit room first; and they took their spot at the little table tucked in the corner closest to the front window. The faint sound of “Little Drummer Boy” played over their heads; Alex frowned when he failed to hear David Bowie and Bing Crosby's crooning in unison.

“Why does Christmas music always sound so cheesy,” he muttered to himself.

“No idea, to be honest,” Krista replied with a shake of her head, and then she turned her attention to him, complete with a little twinkle in her eye. “Someone somewhere should make Christmas music for people who don't like Christmas music.” Alex chuckled at that.

“And how would they do that?”

“I don't know,” she confessed with a thoughtful expression plastered upon her face, “—but it'd be cool.”

“Like—do rock n' roll Christmas songs or something like that,” he said.

“Original Christmas songs, too,” she added, “I don't really want to hear 'Frosty the Snowman' set to guitar.”

“Yeah, that's kinda basic.”

She set a hand on his knee and he nibbled on his bottom lip. So long since he felt that sort of touch from someone else. So long since she exerted that sort of touch on someone else.

“You think maybe we could get on well with Josh?” he asked her in a near whisper.

“I do,” she told him, “especially after what he said.”

#fanfic #fanfiction #writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #my writing #also on ao3 #dead man walking #dead man walking fanfic #anthrax #type o negative #testament #testament band #alex skolnick #krista belladonna #john bush #josh silver #text #Spotify

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bourbonanbarrelnorth · 1 year ago

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#Barrel Tables for Sale #Custom Logo Pub Tables #High Top Table #Bar Chairs and stools Collection #Bar Stool Furniture Collection #High Top Tables #Bar Chairs for Sale #Bar Chair Set

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asifyoucouldoutreadme · 10 months ago

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Hermione Granger is riding a career high: her biography on Voldemort was a smash hit, her agent Blaise Zabini has just negotiated a lucrative new contract with her publisher, and her follow-up work on the writing of Hogwarts: A History already has buzz. She is happy… happyish… content… fine. Definitely not interested in reconnecting with her former childhood bully, even if he possesses a first edition she’d kill to get her hands on. But their explosive reunion poses more questions than answers and Hermione finds herself curious about more than the contents of a book.

Hermione and Draco reunite to heal, write a book, fall in love, and solve a cold case.

6,121 Words (1/? Chapters WIP)

Read the first chapter!

EXCERPT:

“I loved Pureblood Hypocrisy ,” Malfoy muttered, cutting short the spiraling of her mind. His voice was almost lost in the ambient noise of the pub, and she felt him speak more than she heard him.

Whirling in her chair to face him, she caught his eyes completing a scan of the room. His comment had to have more complicated intentions than bearing a compliment, but she was automatically distracted with the reference to her last book.

“Is that your biography of the Dark Lord?” Theo asked, embracing the change of topic with an eagerness that made Hermione cringe.

“Yes,” she answered coldly, eyes never straying from Malfoy’s blank face. “As you may recall, I sent you a fair amount of owls to try and schedule an interview.”

“You did,” he confirmed casually. The disregard grated against every single one of her nerves.

“You didn’t feel the need to respond?” Hermione asked, attempting to match his insouciance. She could see from Blaise’s worried face that she wasn’t pulling it off.

“Silence speaks for itself,” he shrugged, watching the remnants of his drink spin at the bottom of his glass before downing it.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Hermione sneered, knuckles white against her mug. “Almost as if you still hold some loyalty to your former master.”

The entire table froze, silent until Blaise forced out a strained laugh.

Malfoy defrosted at the sound, relaxing into his chair and giving her a tight smile. “I’m sure you can relate to finding a topic that hits too close to home.”

“Apt wording, considering you welcomed the man into your home,” Hermione countered.

“It is not a period of time that I wish to revisit,” he gritted out, avoiding her provocation. Somehow it only fueled her wrath.

“Mustn't dwell on the past, not when you're so very culpable,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Malfoy leaned forward, eyes molten and nostrils flaring. She could feel his hot breath on her cheek, sharp with alcohol and faintly minty. “I’ve paid my dues,” he growled.

Hermione laughed. Her mouth curved into a dark smile, but Theo smothered the fire growing on her tongue before she could release it.

“I’ve heard wonderful things!” He nearly shouted, slowly adjusting the volume of his voice as he rambled on. “About your book. I only read when I’m paid to, I’m afraid, but I’ve heard wonderful things. Never been much of a reader, outside of school. More of a numbers man, myself.”

“It’s still on the top seller list, three years later,” Blaise provided helpfully.

Theo gasped, overselling his astonishment. “You don’t say!”

Malfoy rolled his eyes, pushing back in his chair and glaring out at the room. It seemed he enjoyed being managed as little as she did.

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maccreadysbaby · 1 year ago

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part i ; chapter i

❝ inescapable ❞

all chapters linked here

⚔︎

DALE WAS BURSTING WITH THE JOYS AND MERRIMENT OF LIFE. Children ran about the cobblestone streets, bellies full and energy abounding. The jingling of coins came and went from the shops that lined the roads, the entire city humming with a loud overlapping chatter -- people talking, laughing, living their lives to the fullest in a city rebuilt to splendor. Seven and a half decades had passed since their faithful city was rebuilt, and over triple that since the great dragon, Smaug, had left it in ruin. Now, the sun was shining on Dale once more, turning the stone streets gold, making the buildings that lifted high into the sky glow. It was peaceful, it was happy, it was plentiful. The evening sunlight streamed bright enough to grace the farthest buildings with its luminous golden rays -- even buildings like packed-to-the-gills pubs that sat right on the edge of the city, near to the docks, facing Lake-Town.

Beorn's Hollow was roaring with drunken laughter and shouts, as men from Dale, as well as travelers from the lands abroad, lifted the weight from their shoulders by filling themselves with stiff drink. A soft, jazzy tune wafted through the air, dancing and mixing with the smells of cigar smoke and fermented alcohol to make a toxic, tempting cocktail that, once swallowed up by it, few to none could escape. Not until the next morning, at least.

The interior of the building was almost completely coated in dark wood, tables and chairs smushed uncomfortably close together, but not as close together as the seemingly hundreds of bodies that were constantly moving around inside. The bar stood tall in the center, with never a seat open. The overbearing shouts of drunken merriment echoed out onto the blissful streets of Dale for the better half of every evening, drifting into the midnights and fading by morning. It was, to some, the happiest place in all the city.

But not tonight.

Tonight, an unfamiliar cold lay over the pub. And while most of the people inside were too busy drinking and socializing to notice, few did, and few left before the darkness of night fell over the building. Few turned around before they went through the door, with a sudden change of mind, of heart. Right ere midnight, pouring rain, accompanied by lightning, thunder, and a fierce wind rolled over Dale, plunging it into a cold, seldom silence.

Half after midnight, the large, wooden door to the pub swung open, hitting the wall behind with a loud bang and clatter of the decor hanging on it.

Standing in the doorway was a hooded figure, the light inside the pub too dim to illuminate their features. Lightning flashed and boomed outside, turning them into nothing more than a menacing black silhouette.

Little to none batted an eye besides a frazzled bartender who, without as much as an upward glance, shouted: "Oi! Careful with the door!"

The hooded figure closed the door and scraped the mud off their boots, their head and gaze staying low as they moved. They, covered head to toe in a long, sopping wet brown cloak, seemed to disappear into the chaos of the pub, slinking through the crowd unnoticed until they were seated in one of the farthest, darkest tables. There they sat, alone, silent.

A waitress took a break from circling the pub like a wearied vulture to approach them, her dark eyes trailing about their appearance with a glimmer of suspicion. Her blonde hair was tied up in a messy updo on top of her head that sort of made her look like a strange flower. "And anything for you?"

The figure reached up with a gloved hand, and the waitress visibly stiffened as they tugged the hood of the cloak off their head.

"Oh, Adavera. It's you,"

Now visible for all the eyes in the room to see, the face beyond the dark cloak was not that of a suspicious man, or an exiled elf, but a young woman. Her eyes were like shards of crystal ice, cold and sharp, her brown hair the rich color of a beautiful woodland grove. Her face held the shine of youthfulness, her features petite yet striking, her posture and conduct holding years of experience far beyond her age.

The waitress sighed lightly, the tenseness in her shoulders fading. "You want your usual?"

"If you'd be so kind. And two more, as well, for I will have visitors," Adavera replied, an small grin tugging upward at her lips, her fluttery falsetto a strange addition to the loud chorus of typical pub sounds. The coldness over the building seemed to warm at her smile, fade at her grin.

The waitress smiled, giving her a little bow, her blonde hair bouncing in its knot atop her head. "Very well."

Adavera turned her gaze down to the candle that sat, flame swaying at the center of the wooden table. Wax was dripping down the side and pooling against the tabletop, filling the crevices like water, like blood. Only a few of the waitress's footsteps met Adavera's ears before the woman turned around again.

"Oh, and Adavera?"

Their gazes met.

"I'd be careful wearing dark cloaks over your head like that. Rumor has it there's a very dangerous man lurking around the cities. Some people might get the wrong idea from you, become suspicious," She explained softly.

Adavera cocked a brow, leaning forward on her elbows. "What do you mean, dangerous?"

The waitress glanced around, to make sure none of the other inhabitants were listening, then took a few steps back over toward Adavera's seat. "I don't know for sure, but I've heard lots of talk about a mercenary. An assassin. A paid killer," She started, glancing around warily. "Every now and again someone will die — a clean slit to the throat, poison in a drink, an arrow to the chest, and no one can ever find the killer. He always leaves a symbol on his victims, a wolf, cut into their clothes, into a tree nearby, into the dirt. That's why they refer to him as The Ghost. Because no one's ever seen him before... or at least... no ones lived to tell it."

Adavera straightened uncomfortably in her seat. "Well, I'll be sure to keep my eyes open and my hood down from now on," She said, with a faintly uncomfortable smile. With an equally pained grin, the waitress took another small bow and disappeared back into the roaring crowd.

Adavera's eyes wandered over the room full of shouting people, her gaze lingering on a few of the daunting males in the room. A mercenary. A killer. A Ghost.

It was just as her eyes were drifting over the entry that the door flung open again, thudding against the wall behind it, just like it had when she entered.

"Oi! Watch the damn door!"

Again, the bartender couldn't trouble himself enough to look up, but Adavera paid enough attention for the both of them as a dark, cloaked figure entered from the storm, shutting the door and scraping their boots.

It was a tall person, hidden almost entirely from the rain by a dark cloak, bringing a wave of coldness with them. They rubbed their hands together to fight the winter chill as they moved like a cat through the crowd, going almost completely unnoticed. They moved further and further and further from the door until they were near to Adavera's table, and her eyes followed them closely.

All the way into the chair across from her.

Her hand slipped toward the hilt of a dagger hidden beneath her cloak, her gaze staying completely trained on the stranger's shadowed face. A silent moment passed before they, warily, reached up and tugged off their hood.

Beneath said hood was a pair of swampy green eyes, and some graying hair that Adavera knew all too well. The blank face of a man with nothing if not money and power -- aged by greed and grief and hardened to stone by his line of work.

"Sir Godwyn," She breathed, ducking her head slightly as a form of compliancy. Respect. Submission, toward her employer.

He looked around the pub warily, nose crinkling as though he was too high-class for the place, unclipping his brown cloak and letting it gather by his sides. Adavera watched his cold gaze as it moved, a physical drop in temperature following his pupils around the room.

"Are we waiting for the third member of our party?" She questioned lowly, and he only responded with a curt nod.

With that, the pair fell silent again, Adavera peering around the pub curiously. She watched men with weapons on their backs sit at the bar -- those were most likely wary travelers settling in Dale for the night. The men who came in with a weapon on their back tended to scan the room as though a wolf was lurking somewhere within.

Someone slid into the chair to the left of Adavera.

She hadn't heard or seen him come in.

Glancing over quickly, slightly startled, she took in the third cloaked figure. He was taller than her and Godwyn each by at least a foot, easy. Slowly, he let down the hood of his wet cloak.

Beneath it was an uncommon sight in cities of men like Dale -- the ageless and perfected face of an elf. His features were symmetrical and perfectly placed, as an elf's often were, his grayish-brown eyes, even in the pub, dancing with something that looked oddly like starlight. His hair, raven-dark and silky, cascaded down into his cloak, straight as a pin, tied back out of his face by a myriad of intricate braids and silver clasps.

His eyes full of starlight found hold on Adavera's, and he gave her a quick nod of greeting, which she returned readily.

"Nice of you to show, Cepheus. If not on your own time," Godwyn said lowly, as if Cepheus hadn't arrived mere minutes after himself, scratching at the gray scruff that was growing unevenly on his chin. His eyes kept darting around, to avoid meeting their gazes. "Tell me-"

The three of them glanced up at the waitress when she returned with three plates of dinner food and a trio of ales. Godwyn nodded thanks, and Adavera smiled faintly as the woman passed them the dishes. Her eyes seemed trained on Cepheus -- rightfully so, for no one ever saw an elf in Dale. She put an ale in front of each of them and, with a little bow and one last look at the resident pointy-ear, made a break for it.

Adavera looked down at her hefty plate of a pork chop, corn, and potatoes, then up at the others. Godwyn was staring at his food, blankly, and Cepheus already had his half-pint of ale in his hand, cringing down at the liquid like the waitress had poisoned it. Adavera would've made a joke about their fine elvish wine, had their boss not been sitting right across the table.

Godwyn grabbed his utensils and began to cut at his meat, nodding to himself as he caught the perfectly cooked innards of the pork chop. "Tell me, how was your trip to Erebor?"

Adavera picked up her fork and swirled the potatoes around, leaving small trails in it like a vegetable garden on a hill. She glanced over at Cepheus, and his eyes were already on her, fork in hand, and they stared, deciding who was to speak.

Adavera lost the staring contest to the two big stars the elf had on his face. "It went smoothly," She started near-inaudibly, clearing her throat, looking down at her plate and swirling her fork some more. "No hiccups, no witnesses, not a single suspicion thrown my way. All believe I am perfectly innocent."

"Watcher?" Godwyn's eyes flicked to Cepheus for assurance, and the elf nodded, once.

"Yes, sir. The dwarves even insisted she take her leave afterwards so as to protect her from whatever lurks within, going as far as telling her to send a missive back when she arrived at Dale to convince them of her safety. They have long since closed their gates."

Godwyn put a bite of meat in his mouth, his green eyes lingering on the elf. "Speak to me pleasantries all you like, you know I will not believe the job is done until I receive a token."

With a quick shared glance between Adavera and Cepheus, the former reached into a bag she was concealing beneath her cloak, retracting her hand with a clipping of hair that had been cut by a knife from someone's head, ruddy and red, with a metal clasp still wrapped around it. She handed it across the table to her employer, who took it readily.

She stayed silent as he examined it, putting a small bite of potatoes in her mouth. She wasn't very hungry anymore.

"And did you leave your token?"

Adavera nodded subtly. "Used one of their forging furnaces to brand it into the dead dwarf's leather tunic. Everyone saw it."

After a moment of quiet contemplation, he nodded. "News of the dreaded dwarf's death has spread to Dale and Laketown. No one suspects a thing. Not from us, anyway," He spoke lowly. He reached into perhaps his own hidden bag and withdrew a large bundle of cloth from it. "Your payment, Ghost." He whispered the last word with a hint of mirth on his lips.

He handed the large, tied up cloth across the table to Adavera, who readily ignored the nickname and took it instead. She pulled back one edge and peeked inside.

"The king's jewels," She breathed, watching the riches twinkle in the candlelight. "Was I hired by a member of the royal family of Dale?"

Godwyn's eyes trailed down to the cloth. "I will not reveal who hired you. You know this."

Adavera said nothing, and he pulled another bundle from his cloak. "And for the Watcher."

He handed Cepheus the bundle, which looked a little smaller than Adavera's, and the elf nodded once in thanks.

"I have another job for you," Godwyn said, leaning forward. He pulled a paper from inside of his cloak and slid it across the table, between Adavera and Cepheus so they could both see. It held a drawing of a man. He was not an ugly man, mind you -- he was rather well-groomed, with shoulder length hair and a warrior's stoic expression. At the top of the slip was written his name, at the bottom, a bounty of much larger a number than Adavera had expected. "This is Boromir, firstborn son of Denethor the II, heir to the seat of Gondor. And he has a very, very hefty price on his head."

Adavera examined the photograph, taking in his features and the details of his appearance, as did Cepheus. She had been to Gondor twice before, to Minas Tirith, on business. She remembered hearing his name floating around the streets. He was an esteemed warrior.

"Who is it, that wishes the heir of Gondor to perish?" She spoke softly.

"I must not reveal that to you," Godwyn started, glaring coldly at her. "His whereabouts change frequently, though last I heard he was riding north, from Minas Tirith to Rivendell, with only his steed for company."

Adavera nodded absentmindedly, staring down at the little picture, engraving his appearance into her mind.

"Perhaps the Ghost can intercept him before his lone journey ends," The man started quietly, and she looked up, their eyes meeting. "If he has arrived at Rivendell ere yourself, I expect no shortness of professionalism as you finish your job in the city. Not even from you, Watcher."

Godwyn gave Cepheus one of his signature glares. "I do realize your kin are within that city, and you must make nothing of it. Remember that it is your job not to be seen."

Cepheus nodded once again, but some of the starlight seemed to be dimming in his brownish irises.

Adavera tapped her fingertips against the tabletop. "Have you any idea how long he has been on the road? It may aid us in deciding if we should try to intercept him or continue hastily to Rivendell."

Godwyn shrugged, shoving a large bite of food in his mouth. "I received word right ere noon from a scout who saw him leaving Minas Tirith. Taking into consideration the time it would take for me to receive the message here in Dale, I suspect he has about a remaining two months journey ahead of him if he keeps at a steady pace. You should restock and leave ere sunrise, for if you ride through the nights, through Mirkwood and over the Misty Mountains, you may be able to catch him yet. Keep your tokens close, for I have many scouts on your path."

Adavera's hand trailed to the inside neckline of her cloak, which held a small wolf, embroidered in white — the mark of Godwyn's employees. The same one Cepheus had on the inside of his cloak, and their boss, as well. The same one Adavera left on every single target she killed. She met Godwyn's cold gaze again, but instead of speaking, she nodded, glancing down at the picture of the valiant warrior. Her eyes then trailed up to Cepheus, who looked up at her, and for a moment, they stared.

Cutting the heir of Gondor off before he could arrive at Rivendell. It wasn't the hardest job they'd ever had, but it wouldn't be the easiest. The slightest incorrect calculation could lead their timing astray and throw the whole thing off balance. Adavera wasn't sure who or why someone wanted Boromir, son of Gondor, dead, but she couldn't help the pang of pity that struck through her quickly, like lightning. Like it always did when she got a new job, when she examined various drawings of perfectly happy souls with unfathomable prices below their heads.

But, as always, she was painfully good at putting up a facade.

With an exhale, she pulled her hood up and stood, leaving her full plate of food and cup of drink on the table. She grabbed the slip of paper and tucked it away her bag.

"Then I must get preparing. I give you my word-" She started, grabbing some money from her pouch and leaving it on the table for their food and drink. She looked up at her boss, then at Cepheus, a small grin flashing across her features. "-The son of Gondor shall die to no blade if it is not my own."

She was as silent leaving the pub as she was coming in.

⚔︎

tag list!

@inkedmoth

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tedwardremus · 2 years ago

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Am I to suffer this constant stream of interruption?

The quaint village of Hogsmeade was abuzz with the excitement of students from Hogwarts enjoying their first weekend visit of the fall term. Among the loud and cheerful crowd, a blue-haired wizard calmly leaned against a lamppost, watching two teenagers try to sneak bottles of butterbeer out of the pub.

Or at least he hoped he looked calm. Teddy Lupin was surprised at how sweaty his palms felt and how fast his heart was racing. It shouldn't be that big of a deal to be standing in Hogsmeade. He was no longer a student, having worked as a legislative aid for the newly reformed Werewolf Affairs and Support Office (formally the Werewolf Registration Office) for over a year. He was allowed to be in the village whenever he wanted. And while this visit had been marked on his calendar for several weeks it really shouldn't be that big of a deal. Except today was actually in fact a big deal. A Very big deal.

Teddy Lupin had planned this visit with Victoire Weasley since September. It was their first official outing as a couple. And while he had known Vic her whole life the thought of actually being an official couple still made his heart jump and his head swirl in a whirlpool of incoherent thoughts.

And really what was there to be nervous about? The kiss at Platform 9 3/4 proved that the romantic feelings were mutual. She had flashed her sweet smile and said, "I love you too, and not in a cousin-sort-of-family-way either" while she boarded the train and his heart had swelled in size. And on top of that their near-daily letters full of flirtations, gossip, advice, and thoughts he'd only dare share with here were enough proof that the relationship was real. This wasn't a dream.

No, really he shouldn't be nervous.

He just wanted this day to be perfect. For her. Because she was perfect. And they had both been waiting for this day for far too long.

As Teddy scanned the high street of Hogsmeade once more, he couldn't help but smile at the sight of Victoire running toward him. Her blonde hair whipped around her in the autumn wind. She was radiant. Just as he was about to take in the cool pool blue of her eyes he was knocked back into the lamppost as she wrapped around him in a big hug. Their laughter mingled together as he leaned in to kiss her lips in a proper greeting.

"Hi." She breathed, their faces still close together. His hands now placed on her slender waist.

"Hi." He smiled back.

"Did you wait long?"

"Yes, it's been months of waiting."

"You exaggerate. It's only been weeks."

Teddy looked down at her laughing face and wondered if he should counter with his real thoughts of how waiting months, weeks, or even days without her was too much. Maybe she should drop out of school right now and they live as bohemians across the continent. He thought the better of it though and simply grabbed her hand and led her inside to the Three Broomsticks.

Vic found a small table in a corner of the pub while Teddy went to get the drinks.

"So, how's the castle? Did you get those Celtic ruin translations finished?" Teddy asked as he returned with the two butterbeers.

"Oh, it got finished. Not sure any of it was correct though." Vic accepted the bottle and after a beat gave Teddy an incredulous look, "You know, I don't really understand the point of having an older boyfriend if you can't help me with my homework. I can't believe you took a completely different set of NEWT courses than me."

Teddy took a long sip of his butterbeer before replying "My apologies, should I give you Titus Whinchley's floo address? I'm pretty sure he got O's in Ancient Ruins and Arithmancy."

"Oh Merlin, don't even joke about doing that. Titus Whinchley is more boring than Binn's lecture on goblin uprisings."

"And you already have a boyfriend, of course."

"Oh yes, that too."

Teddy and Vic both leaned into each other when - "Oi! Teddy!"

A blur of dark hair ran into view and dropped himself into the empty chair at their table. "You didn't tell me you were visiting today! Can you get me a firewhiskey?"

"No, James" Teddy stated firmly and gave James Potter a pointed look. "Get lost."

"What? No! Come on! Haven't you missed me?" James leaned back in his chair and propped his feet onto the round wooden table.

"Ew, James get your muddy boots off the table! That's so rude!" Victoire exclaimed as she kicked the chair from underneath her cousin and he tumbled onto the hard floor.

"I'm just being friendly," James said as he stood up and rubbed his bottom. " Are you two going to be one of those gross couples that just snog all the time and call each other the most sicking nicknames?"

Teddy rolled his head back and stared at the ceiling, wondering what misdeed he did in a past life to be cursed with James Potter's existence. "Only when we're around you."

James gave out a snort in disgust and bounded away out the door.

"He misses you, you know," Vic said as she took a sip of her drink. "Or at least he did last year. He was pretty down without you around. I overheard him talking to Professor Longbottom about how school seemed pointless without his best friend."

"I'm his older brother, not his best friend."

Vic looked up at Teddy with a smirk on her face as he took another sip of butterbeer. "I don't think he sees the difference."

Teddy disguised his choke as a cough.

After they had warmed themselves with drinks and each other's company they ventured to Honeydukes where Teddy and Victoire indulged in an assortment of sweets. Vic insisted she needed more sustenance for studying. "You can't get through NEWTS without sugar quills, everyone knows that." Teddy never needed an excuse to buy more chocolates.

As they strolled the aisles, James Potter materialized out of thin air, and Teddy caught sight of a familiar shimmery silver material that James was wading up and placing in his school bag.

"What are you doing with the cloak?" Teddy asked shaking his head in disbelief.

"Dad gave it to me."

"I know, but what are you doing with it in Honeydukes? You're not shoplifting are you? I'll buy you anything you want."

"Nah, I was just waiting for Fred. I've been trying to get the jump on him all day. He pushed me into the lake yesterday, you know."

Teddy ran his hand through his hair which changed from his normal bright blue to duller yellow. "Just don't cause trouble OK? I'm here to hang out with Vic, not babysit you."

"Do you have the map?"

"No, why would I carry around a map of a school I don't go to anymore."

"I know Dad gave it to you."

"Yeah, because my dad made it."

"So did my grandfather. You should give it to me. Don't even think about giving it to Al. He won't do anything fun with it."

"I gave it back to Harry after I graduated."

"Why would you do a thing like that?"

"As I said earlier, I don't need a map for a school I no longer attend. I'm sure Harry will give it to you eventually."

"Why won't he give it to me now?"

"He doesn't trust you."

"Why didn't you give it to me then?"

"I don't trust you either."

"Oi, Vic, your boyfriend is boring" James turned to Victoire. Victoire just rolled her eyes and pushed James out of the way.

"Come on, Teddy let's make our purchases and leave. I need to go to the bookstore." Vic swished her hair over her shoulder and marched toward the cashier. Teddy gave James a parting pat on the back and followed Vic to the front of the shop.

At the bookstore, Victoire looked for a present for her sister Dominque while Teddy looked over a selection of ink wells. "She loves all those cheesy romance books but I think it's time to refine her palate. Maybe The Alchemist's Daughter's Diary?

"Isn't that also a cheesy romance novel?"

"Oh Ted, you know nothing of the classics."

As Teddy rounded the corner of shelves he walked straight into another shopper causing him to drop ink down the front of his robes..

"Hey, Teddy, when you and Vic have kids will I be their uncle or cousin?"

Teddy looked widely around the store. "Are you doing this on purpose?"

"What running into you everywhere you go?" James asked innocently, "Nah, it's just a small village and there isn't much to do."

"Don't you have friends to hang out with?"

"Archie is in detention and Ellie is helping her dad in the greenhouse. Splinter is trying to flirt with Peggy and it is decidedly too painful to watch. But for real: Am I an uncle or a cousin?"

"You have a friend named Splinter?"

"You're ignoring the question. Uncle or Cousin?"

"You're nothing. What are you talking about?" Teddy grabbed James' should and steered him in the direction of the door as Vic purchased two books for her sister. "This is literally my first date with Vic and we are teenagers. We aren't even close to talking about kids. At this point, I'm lucky if we'll make it to Christmas at the pace you keep disrupting our time together."

"Ah, she's used to me." James shrugged off Teddy's hand and turned to face him. "Are you coming to my match next week?"

"Of course I am, I told you so in my last letter."

"Good, it's my first ever match on a real team. I want to make sure you see me win. "

Teddy was never sure if James' confidence was an act to rile people up or if he was genuinely that sure of himself. Teddy advised James to go back to school soon before curfew and joined Vic at the register and to pay for the ink that he had spilled.

"Do you think that kid has ever had a thought he didn't immediately have to shout out loud?" Teddy asked Vic while they watched James skip up the street and tackle his cousin Fred, he was distracted with the latest Firebolt 300 in the window of the quidditch shop to notice James, into a bale of hay.

"Maman says Auntie Ginny needs to reteach him proper conversation techniques."

"I don't think the Potters believe in your mother's standard of etiquette."

Vic just shrugged and continued to lead Teddy up the street until they reached the path past the train station that led back to the castle. But just as their lips were about to meet in a sweet farewell, a familiar voice rang out.

"Teddy! Victoire! I -" Teddy swished his wand and James froze on the spot.

"I'll unfreeze him on my way out," Teddy told Victoire as he tightened his grip around her waist. "I didn't want him to ruin our goodbye again"

"You know" Vic whispered as their noses started to touch. "As head girl, I can ensure that he is in detention next Hogsmeade visit."

Teddy chuckled as their lips met. "Great, I'm sure he'll do something to deserve it."

And just like their parting in September as he kissed Vic deeply her warm soft touch made his skin tingle and his hair turn bright pink with happiness.

"Still thinking about calling Titus Whinchley?

"Shut it"

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

#teddy lupin #victoire weasley #teddy x victoire #tedoire #james sirius potter #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction

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theramblingsoldier · 1 year ago

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I was recently invited to go to a local pub with a bunch of my mates around the time of my 20th birthday. The pub hosts these events which aren’t alcohol centred like grill nights and empanada night, the day I went they had empanadas and I was excited to try some. I got there early and was asked what table I wanted if I wanted high top stools or chaired seating, and if I wanted to eat at the bar. I told them I was too young for the bar and would prefer a regular table. The waiter told me I had to leave since they serve more alcohol than food, I again stated I was here for the food not the drink but still I had to leave. Furthermore my friends and girlfriend who are over 21 need to have someone that’s 25 in order to drink near me. The food was great but I didn’t finish it there since I had a curfew so I was home by 10 with a takeout box with my birthday dinner inside it.

Maybe this is the wrong platform to pose this question given the average tumblr user but

Is it just me or did our generation (those of is who are currently 20-30 ish) just not get the opportunity to be young in the 'standard' sense?

Like, everyone I talk to who's over 40 has all their wild stories about their teens and 20s, being young and dumb, and then I talk to my friends and coworkers and classmates, and we just... dont.

#they should lower the drinking age so I can EAT at establishments #Hellhole of a country #hellhole of a state #the rambling soldier

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haveaseatau · 2 months ago

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4 Stylish Pedestal Table Ideas for Every Home Decor

Pedestal tables are beautiful, versatile, and timeless furniture items in any house setting. Because there is one, single base in the center, it offers more leg and unobtrusive comfort. And if your space is really small compared to a big house, you can find pedestal tables with an endless collection of designs to suit your taste.

From real wood to modern glass and metal finishes, they perfectly blend with classical and contemporary interiors. They may serve as dining tables, coffee tables, or somewhat aesthetic additions to your hallways or bedrooms. This post shall outline four stylish pedestal table bases innovations that can suit different house styles. Each one will bring its own charms and functions to evenly distribute space for design and beauty.

1. Classic Wooden Pedestal Dining Table Nothing surpasses the elegance of a classic wooden pedestal table. Oak, walnut, or mahogany, these tables, provide warmth with a tinge of traditional charm. The intricately designed bases often embellished with carved motifs speak of sophistication. Combine one with upholstered chairs for a cozy dining room or drop it in a rustic kitchen surrounded by wooden benches. The round shape offers a space for chit-chat, which is perfect for family dinners. The dark finish raises its elegance in a formal setting; lighter shades suit a farmhouse or coastal abode.

2. Sleek Modern Glass Pedestal Table Go for a glass pedestal table for a minimalist yet airy aesthetic. Most of these tables feature either a clear or frosted glass top combined with a metal or acrylic base. The shiny surfaces reflect natural light, making small rooms seem much larger than they really are. This style perfectly fits into modern or contemporary homes. Add a few sculptural-type chairs to achieve that clean, high-end designer look. They don't do badly at all in open plan spaces. Very neat and uncluttered decor just like this.

3. Marble Pedestal Accent Table This is one stylish and striking marble pedestal table; it could serve perfectly as an entry hall accent, in a hallway, or even in a corner of the bedroom cut off from view. The natural veining and smooth texture immediately imbue the material with a sense of luxury. It could be white Carrara or it could be dark green but in any case, this is a huge attention grabber without being overly shouty. A vase of fresh flowers, a table lamp, or your favorite books should be accommodated by it. You might select a base in brass or gold tones for a bit more glamour or go with one in matte black for a modern edge.

4. Industrial-Style Metal Pedestal Table Industrial decor merges aesthetic raw materials and edgy designs. A metal pedestal table with a reclaimed wooden top is all about the industrial inspiration. Most of these tables consist of steel or iron bases with rustic finishes. They fit great into lofts, urban apartments, or any rooms with exposed brick and pipes. Use one for a breakfast nook table or a small working desk. Pair with leather or metal chairs for an authentic industrial feel.

Conclusion

Pedestal table bases serve far more than utility purposes: They add flair, versatility, and individuality to your living space. If you're more inclined toward classic wood, sleek glass, exquisite marble, or funky metal, there is a pedestal table out there to fit your design. Feel free to play with materials and placements to maximize this timeless design.

Also Read: The Top 5 Materials for Pub Table Bases in Sydney’s Hospitality Scene

#pedestal table bases

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metalavenues · 3 months ago

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Premium Banquet Tables, Lounge & Bar Furniture | Top Pub & Bar Chair Manufacturers | Metal Avenues

Transform your hospitality or commercial space with Metal Avenues—your premier destination for high-end banquet table, lounge and bar furniture, and expertly crafted seating solutions. As one of the leading pub and bar chair manufacturers, we specialize in durable, stylish designs that enhance any setting, from upscale restaurants to vibrant nightlife venues. Our banquet tables are built for both elegance and functionality, while our lounge and bar furniture collections offer unmatched comfort and contemporary appeal.

Whether you're furnishing a cozy pub, a luxurious hotel lounge, or a grand event space, our products combine superior craftsmanship with competitive pricing. Choose from a wide selection of bar stools, sleek lounge chairs, and versatile banquet setups—all designed to elevate your ambiance. At Metal Avenues, we also provide custom solutions tailored to your unique needs. Contact us today for bulk orders and discover why businesses trust us as the preferred pub and bar chair manufacturers for premium commercial furniture!

Visit for more info: Metal Avenues

Phone: +91 9810 102 869, +91 9810 102 853

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bdscontract · 4 months ago

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Restaurant Tables and Chairs

Selecting the right restaurant tables and chairs is a crucial aspect of creating a welcoming and functional dining space. At bdscontract, we understand the importance of furniture that not only enhances aesthetics but also ensures comfort and durability. Whether you are opening a new restaurant or refurbishing an existing one, investing in the best tables and chairs can significantly impact customer experience and satisfaction.

Factors to Consider When Choosing Restaurant Tables and Chairs

1. Durability and Material Quality

The longevity of your restaurant furniture depends on the materials used. High-traffic establishments require durable materials that can withstand daily wear and tear. Here are some top material choices:

Wood: Provides a classic and elegant look. Solid wood tables and chairs offer strength but may require regular maintenance.

Metal: Ideal for industrial or modern themes. Powder-coated metals resist rust and corrosion.

Plastic and Resin: Lightweight, affordable, and easy to clean. Great for outdoor seating.

Upholstered Seating: Enhances comfort but requires careful selection of stain-resistant fabrics.

2. Comfort and Ergonomics

Comfort plays a significant role in customer retention. Choose chairs with adequate back support and seat cushioning. Ensure tables are at the right height to accommodate different seating arrangements. The ideal seat height should complement the table height to prevent discomfort during dining.

3. Aesthetic Appeal and Theme Compatibility

Your furniture should align with the overall theme of your restaurant. Consider the following styles:

Modern Minimalist: Sleek lines, neutral colors, and simple designs.

Rustic & Vintage: Wooden tables, distressed finishes, and antique-inspired chairs.

Industrial: Metal frames, exposed structures, and reclaimed wood surfaces.

Luxury Fine Dining: Plush seating, marble tabletops, and elegant upholstery.

4. Space Optimization

Effective space utilization is essential for accommodating more customers while maintaining comfort. Choose compact yet comfortable furniture to maximize seating capacity. Folding or stackable chairs can help adjust layouts based on occupancy.

5. Ease of Maintenance and Cleaning

Restaurant furniture must be easy to clean and maintain. Opt for:

Stain-resistant fabrics for upholstered chairs.

Laminate or sealed wood for easy wipe-downs.

Non-porous surfaces to prevent bacterial buildup.

Best Types of Restaurant Tables and Chairs

1. Restaurant Tables

A. Dining Tables

Perfect for full-service restaurants, these tables come in various shapes and sizes:

Rectangular Tables: Great for large groups and banquet-style seating.

Round Tables: Encourage social interaction and provide a cozy dining experience.

Square Tables: Ideal for smaller spaces and flexible seating arrangements.

B. Bar Tables

Designed for casual and fast-paced dining environments, bar tables are taller and pair well with stools. Available in counter-height and pub-height variations.

C. Communal Tables

These long tables foster a shared dining experience, commonly used in casual eateries and cafeterias.

2. Restaurant Chairs

A. Wooden Chairs

Classic and versatile, wooden chairs suit a variety of restaurant themes. Options include:

Solid wood chairs: Durable and aesthetically pleasing.

Bentwood chairs: Lightweight and stylish.

Ladder-back chairs: Offer excellent back support.

B. Metal Chairs

Popular in industrial and modern settings, metal chairs provide durability and sleek aesthetics. Variants include:

Aluminum chairs: Lightweight and rust-resistant.

Steel chairs: Heavy-duty and long-lasting.

C. Upholstered Chairs

For fine dining establishments, upholstered chairs add luxury and comfort. Choose leather or high-quality fabric with proper padding.

D. Stackable and Folding Chairs

Best suited for banquet halls, catering services, and adaptable dining spaces, these chairs offer easy storage and flexibility.

How to Arrange Restaurant Tables and Chairs for Maximum Efficiency

1. Consider Traffic Flow

Ensure there is ample space between tables for servers and guests to move comfortably. The recommended distance between tables is at least 24 inches for side-by-side arrangements and 36 inches for back-to-back seating.

2. Optimize Seating Capacity

Use a mix of seating options to accommodate different group sizes. Booths, communal tables, and private dining areas can enhance the guest experience.

3. Outdoor and Patio Seating

For restaurants with outdoor areas, invest in weather-resistant furniture. Look for:

Aluminum or synthetic wicker chairs to withstand varying weather conditions.

Teak or treated wood tables for a natural yet durable finish.

Why Choose bdscontract for Your Restaurant Furniture Needs?

At bdscontract, we specialize in providing high-quality restaurant tables and chairs tailored to your establishment's needs. Our commitment to excellence ensures:

Durable and stylish furniture crafted from premium materials.

Customizable options to match your restaurant’s theme.

Affordable pricing without compromising on quality.

Expert guidance to help you choose the best furniture for your space.

Conclusion

Investing in the right restaurant tables and chairs enhances the ambiance, comfort, and functionality of your dining space. By considering factors like durability, aesthetics, and space optimization, you can create an inviting environment that encourages repeat business. At bdscontract, we offer a wide selection of high-quality furniture to help you achieve the perfect dining setup.

#Restaurant Tables and Chairs #hospitality public spaces chair and table #bdscontract #furniture solutions #b2b furniture solutions #germany #living chair #usa #bds furniture

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