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babbushka · 5 years ago

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Two’s Company (5/5)

1989 and New York City is a mess. Life was shit for all but you and Pale, who found that among the rubble and rubbish, there existed peace and calm and hard hot fucking. That is, until, an unwanted visitor makes themselves known, throwing this happy dream into a tumultuous nightmare.

Pale (Burn This) x Reader

The Final Chapter of my sequel to Blue Moon

9.2k; Warnings: NSFW, angst, drug mentions, mentions of violence

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He smiled a lot, on the walk to the diner. It wasn’t much further, but he smiled the whole way. That was somethin’ real rare for Pale, to be smiling for that long. Even in bed he didn’t grin the way he was grinning now.

He didn’t let go of your hand the whole way, kept an even tighter grip on you after your accidental slip. These were new heels, and you shoulda broke them in longer than you did, they weren’t all scuffed up on the bottom like your old pairs were.

But you didn’t mind too much, not if it meant Pale got to hold you tight the way he was. Whenever the two of yous walked, he always made sure you were on the inside, never on the street-side. He always made sure, didn’t want you gettin’ hurt or hit or nothing, even though you ain’t never seen a car come up onto the sidewalk before.

It was sweet of him to worry though, and you didn’t complain, just held his hand and laughed and smiled with him all the way to the diner.

When you finally got there, and he smacked at your hand for trying to open the door yourself, you gasped in so much surprise that Pale immediately stiffened into a fight-or-flight mode that had you chuckling, especially because you had been gasping at,

“Chaya!” You rush to the small woman’s side, opening your arms for a hug that she eagerly accepted, “My god it’s been so long!”

Chaya, Fish’s wife, almost never came to the diner. She always said she never liked the smell of it, of all that cooking oil and grease. You saw her occasionally of course, whenever you’d spend the holidays with them and random dinners, but seeing her in the diner was a novelty.

“(Y/N) it’s so good to see you, you look gorgeous – are those new shoes?” Chaya had a habit of complimenting you whenever she saw you, fawned over you like a granddaughter she didn’t have.

You always let her, because well, before Pale, you didn’t get complimented all that much, and it felt good to be recognized, even if it was from a tiny Jewish woman that looked at you through glasses that were an inch thick.

“Yeah, my old heels were fallin’ apart, walked in the snow one too many times with them.” You explained as you showed off the pretty heels you had bought yourself – you hadn’t accepted any of Pale’s money for them, you saved up and up and up for them and finally, after a good couple of months you were able to spend that hard earned cash on something nice and new for yourself.

“Ohhh,” Chaya said appreciatively at the way you turned your ankles so she could see the black patent leather and red bottoms. Chaya had always had a very New York style, very chic. Her hair was a bleach blonde cloud teased to perfection on top of her head, and her clothing was always heavily beaded to the point where you were sure you could see her from a mile away – just the same as you could see Pale, who she was eyeing up and down just as appreciatively, “And who is this?”

“This is my man Pale.” You said happily, pride making you bashful as Pale stuck his cigarette in between in teeth to extend his free hand for a shake.

“Big strong and handsome! I’ve heard so much about you but oy nothin’ about how tall you are!” Chaya laughed at his grip, gave him a wink.

“Heard only bad things I hope.” Pale winked right back, and you couldn’t help but let a little laugh out through your nose at how charming he really was, even with little old bubbies.

“The worst.” Chaya teased, before sighing and putting her hands on her hips, getting right to the point: “Fishel ain’t here today honey, he’s feelin’ a little under the weather.”

“Sick how? Is he okay?” Your smile dropped, fearing the worst.

“Don’t worry about him honey he’s going to be fine.” Chaya scoffed and waved her hands around, “His allergies are just acting up is all. You know I always tell him to take a Benadryl in the winter-time but he never listens to me. Men!”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to be running the diner today.” You raised your eyebrows, but she only scoffed again, making you sigh in relief.

“Me? God no.” She said as if she were offended, before jabbing her thumb in your man’s direction and saying, “I was actually wonderin’ if your man Mr. Pale wouldn’t mind taking over here.”

“I would love to but I gotta be at the one in the city.” Pale shook his head, took a deep drag of his cigarette.

“No you don’t, my nephew is going to cover for you today.” Chaya countered, making the both of your eyebrows shoot up then.

“Nephew?” Pale asked, cocking his head towards her as if his ear wasn’t close enough.

“Little Joshua’s hopin’ to go into the restaurant business like his uncle isn’t that so precious?” She put her hand over her chest, “Well I say little, he’s thirty and back from a stint overseas. He wants to open up his own place for the vets, bless him.”

“So let me get this straight,” Pale asked a little too aggressively, “You want me to stay here and manage the diner today, while your nephew manages the diner in Manhattan?”

“Is that gonna be a problem?” Chaya asked back, just as aggressively, and you had to admit it was funny seeing him back down. Not even the big bad Pale was a match for a stubborn Jewish woman with a plan.

“Problem?” Pale put his hands up in surrender, making you laugh as he quickly said, “No, no problem at all. None whatsoever.”

“Good, then I’m off.” She brightened up considerably, dropping the serious act right away. She leaned over for you to give her a big kiss on the cheek as you always did, and patted yours when you pulled away enough. “It was so good seein’ ya honey, come by for dinner one of these nights, okay?”

“Okay Chaya, send my love.” You said, opening and holding the door for her.

You waited until she got into her tiny sedan and drove away, before turning to Pale and putting your hands on your hips in much the same manner.

“What was that all about?” You asked, wondering why he had given attitude.

“You ain’t never seen me work before, you know that?” He scratched the back of his neck, chewed on the inside of his cheek as he smoked smoked smoked his cigarette.

“You see me work all the time.” You pointed out, walking towards the back to go get your apron and your little hat, putting both on so your uniform was complete.

Pale followed you, snatched the sash of your apron out of your hands and gently tied it into a pretty bow for you so you didn’t have to.

“I know but that’s different, you ain’t gotta yell at anybody.” He said, and your heart warmed at his soft tone.

“Is that it? You don’t want me seein’ you get all angry?” You turn to face him, loop your arms up and over his neck, pluckin’ the cigarette out from between his teeth enough to kiss him a little, “I ain’t afraid of you or your angry voice, if that’s somethin’ you’re worried about. I’m excited actually, believe it or not.”

“Excited.” Pale quirked a smile, making you hum out a little affirmative.

“I like when you’re…” You mull over, trying to find a good word before settling on, “Authoritative.”

“You’re gonna be the fuckin’ end of me, you know that?” He groaned, thunked his head back against the wall where he was leaning on in the little employees only room in the back, “The absolute fuckin’ end. God I want to fuck you, already I’m hard for you.”

And you could feel it, could feel just how hard he was for you. He pinned your hips against his, and right at the moment when you were fully ready to make out with him and ride his thigh right there in the back room, did the first ding of the door sound, alerting you to the first customer of the day.

“I bet you are honey, but I’ve gotta go serve coffee.” You unlatch yourself from him, and he groaned loudly, playfully.

“Let me watch you walk away?” He asked with big doe eye, and you only grinned as you turned to leave the room, swaying your hips in a teasing exaggerated way.

----------------

It was mesmerizing, seeing him like this. You’d seen him in all kinds of ways – seen him at home, seen him in the concert halls, seen him preforming. But you ain’t never seen him like this.

It was really somethin’, watching Pale work. You knew he worked hard of course, everyone knew that, everyone who took one look at him knew that. But you’d never actually seen him work, never seen him in the full swing of things like this, not like this. He was stormin’ all over the fucking place, not even realizing that he’s storming, you didn’t think. He just had that presence to him, that aura about him – that don’t fuck with me or I’ll break your legs kind of vibe.

You almost spilled your coffee a coupla’ times because of it.

Well maybe you almost spilled your coffee a coupla’ time’s because of the way he had taken off his fancy silk shirt and suit jacket, revealing a black tank top underneath that showed off his arms so nice and good that you wanted to reach through the order window and give his biceps a squeeze.

You’d seen him in the kitchen before of course, he cooked all the fuckin’ time for you at home, but this was different. Here it was like his need to show off was multiplied ten times, and damn, did he. Smoking cigarette after cigarette through the breakfast rush, workin’ hard as he could to get all the orders just right, just perfect.

You knew he knew he wasn’t no Fish, not really, and when Fish came back to work tomorrow you were sure there’d be folks who’d be thrilled – because let’s face it, even Pale’s best just wasn’t what some of these regulars were used to but damn, his best was pretty good.

It was almost surreal, walkin’ up to the order window and seein’ your man on the other side. He’d only be in the kitchen for breakfast and you knew that, knew he’d be going back to the office once the rush was over and the cook could take full control of the kitchen again. But for now, you and a couple of the other waitresses walked up to the counter when he dinged the little bell, and it put a real big smile on your face to see Pale there.

“Alright I gotta Adam and Eve on a log for table ten and an Adam and Eve on a wrecked raft for table seven and don’t you dare fuckin’ mix ‘em up.” He snapped at the kid, Jess, who worked the morning shifts with you sometimes if she didn’t have any college classes in the morning.

Jess only rolled her eyes and grabbed the plates, careful not to mix them up, and you occupied the little space that she had freed up to pass a new order ticket to Pale. It was for one of the truck drivers who came in all the time, he only ever ate a huge breakfast in the morning, and then a big dinner real late at night, so it had to be done the right way, and you tell Pale as much.

“Hi honey, got a bean buster over at booth eleven and he’s real particular about how he likes his steak so please just, for the love of god make sure it’s rare?” You said soft enough that the trucker couldn’t hear you, not that he really would even if you shouted it out, just because of how packed the place was and all the clinking clanking clanging of everyone eating and enjoying their food.

“Black and blue comin’ up – hey,” Pale said, reaching through the window and grabbing your wrist when you slide him the ticket, pulling you a little closer and suckin’ down some nicotine as he asked, “Gimmie a kiss?”

You laugh and pluck the cigarette out from between his teeth before giving him a quick smack of your lips on his. He watched you walk away until you were officially out of his line of sight, back behind the milkshake bar makin’ egg creams.

Pale’s massive, you think. Absolutely fuckin’ huge, but there’s a sort of bull-in-the-china-shop kind of grace about it. He spent most of his time in the mornin’ doing the breakfast rush alongside the cook, the guy that worked the night shifts and who also got brought in when Fish wasn’t feelin’ too hot. You almost wanted to feel sorry for Pale, because breakfast rush was some fuckin’ nightmare sometimes, but he handled it with as much ease as Fish did, and you were impressed.

Like when some random guy – not a regular or at least not one you recognized – was yelling at that poor college kid Jess, for something that ain’t even her fault. You heard the commotion seemingly right as it happened, but so did Pale. He must have, because he was approachin’ the table cool as a cucumber, his silk shirt back on and tucked into his pleated trousers, big suit jacket makin’ his broad shoulders look even more broad.

You were almost worried that he’d start yellin’ right away, that he’d get into a fight or some shit like that. Not anything mean by it, but you knew your man, you knew your Pale. He was a hot headed kinda guy when it came to some shit, and you were fully prepared to step in if necessary.

So he surprised and impressed you when he was nothin’ but calm.

“There a problem over here?” He asked, hands on his hips just in that way that men in charge liked to stand.

And boy, was your man a man in charge.

The guy takes one look at Pale, and it’s like he can see his whole fucking life flash before his eyes. He immediately regrets raising his voice at Jess, immediately regrets causing a scene at all, and Pale gives him good reason to. He could so easily pick the guy up and physically throw him out of the diner, could snap him in two if he wanted.

You have to bite your lip at the thought, and Pale caught that look of yours from the corner of his eye, smirked a little to himself, too smug about how wet he makes you. But fuck, you’re wet, and it’s all you can do to just stand there and pour some coffee and force yourself not to whine to be fucked.

“I’m sorry I hate to complain, I really do, but there ain’t no salt on these hashbrowns, and there ain’t no salt in my shaker, I think somebody forgot to fill ‘em up or somethin’?” The guy says eventually, when he realizes that there ain’t no winning a fight against Pale, and Pale picks up the little salt shaker that’s definitely not empty, inspects it for a minute.

“Here’s what I’m gonna do, I’m gonna have ‘em remake the whole fuckin’ thing for ya, okay? No charge no nothin’, and I’m gonna see what’s goin’ on about this here salt shit. But don’t you ever fuckin’ yell at one of the these girls again, you got that? I catch you yellin’ at any of them and I’ll serve you shit from the dumpster outside – you got that?” He stared the guy down, who gulped and nodded. “My girl (Y/N) will take real good care of ya, won’t you honey?”

Pale looked at you, beckoned you over. You went easily, and he handed you the little salt shaker that’s just about half full, the top only a little clogged.

But while he had you within reach, he pulled you a little closer, and a little closer still – and even a little closer still, until he had a handful of your ass and was kneading it in his big hand right there in front of everyone. Not that anyone was really paying attention.

“You bet, I’m real sorry we ain’t ever outta salt, here’s a new one I’ll go refill this myself.” You said breathlessly, chewing the inside of your cheek and pressing your thighs together from the feeling of Pale’s hand on your body, you’re barely able to ask, “Can I get you anything while you wait?”

“Nah that’s okay, thank you really – wait can I have some coffee?” The guy, who clearly sees what’s going on, ducked his head in embarrassment for making a scene about some shit that ain’t even that big of a deal.

You poured him some coffee, and then went in the back storage room, to “fill up the salt.”

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It took maybe two seconds, before Pale was comin’ in up behind you.

The storage room was small, not much to really store, when so much of the produce and meats and shit came from local suppliers around the town. Fish was real big on that, and it was something Pale appreciated the fuck outta him for – quality ingredients from local places.

But Fish wasn’t there today, and you took the opportunity of Pale’s managerial position to bend yourself over one of the big storage boxes and hike up your uniform skirt without even so much as a second glance.

“God damn you’re sexy when you work, you know that? I tell you that enough? I should, fuck remember back in the day when I would come and sit here and jerk off to you pourin’ that coffee? Fuck.” Pale’s already undoing the belt buckle of his trousers, already yanking his shirt out from where it was tucked in real nice.

“I didn’t know you jerked off!” You gasped when you felt the cool air of the storage room hit your bare ass, as Pale slid your panties down your legs to hang around your knees.

He kicked your feet apart with those fancy fuckin’ boots of his, freed his cock and rubbed the head of it through your folds which were dripping from a mix of his old come from earlier in the morning, and your fresh slick from watching him be so fucking hot.

“Of course I did, and now look, now look at the two of us, jerkin’ off together.” He slid his cock through your pussy some more before finally nudging his cock properly inside you, filling that aching emptiness that had been making you weak all morning.

“Pale it ain’t jerkin’ off if we’re together.” You couldn’t help but laugh a little, until your laughs dissolved into moans from the way he rolled his hips flush against your ass, pressed you down a little further onto the storage boxes.

“Bullshit, your pussy’s jerkin’ me off – it counts.” He grunted groaned growled in your ear as he draped himself over your back, hands bruising on your hips.

“C’mon fuck me, we gotta be fast there’s people out there waitin’ for us and shit.” You swallowed down all the drool that kept threatening to slide out of your mouth, and Pale only grunted some more as he sped his hips up, built a pace that was brutal, skin slapping hard against skin.

“They can keep waiting, god you’re so fuckin’ good, this pussy’s so good.” He breathed, “All for me, my fuckin’ cunt to have whenever I want it, you like that? You like gettin’ fucked at work like this? Maybe I should come run the place more often, let Fish’s nephew take over the one in the city more often, come and fuck you here in this little room more often.”

Your eyes rolled back into your head and your toes curled in your pretty new heels as your pussy got pounded, the thick squelch of it music to your ears. His cock was so firm inside you, so fuckin’ hard, rock hard, and it speared into you searching for your gspot. You knew he liked to milk your pleasure for as long as he could, but the two of yous really didn’t have the time to spare – so when he found it he dropped a hand to your clit and rolled that at the same time as he thrusted against your walls.

“Pale – yes honey – oh fuck yes, yes please – faster,” You gasped, your eyes flying open and your thighs shaking shaking shaking as he fit inside you so perfectly.

“Shh, shh sweetheart be good for me, be a good girl and suck.” He shoved his free hand into your mouth, gags you on his fingers while he rams into you hard and dirty, shaking the walls of the storage room and threatening to knock down the boxes and bins from the force of his thrusts.

You came together, the both of you cursing low and long as your bodies shook together, his cock still thrusting in and out of you just because he could, because he had to. But this was only a quickie, only a little stolen moment in the storage room, and when he pulls out of your cunt he stuffs those slicked up fingers back inside you, pushes all his come that starts to leak out right back into your pretty pussy, slides your panties back into place and watched hungrily as the fabric began to darken.

“Back to work.” You sighed dreamily, making him just chuckle and smack your ass a little.

And it was, back to work. Back to him showin’ off and impressing you.

----------------

It wasn’t just you who he impressed, neither. All the regulars at one point or another pulled you aside gently, like one of them, a nice elderly lady with blue hair and huge rimmed glasses, was doin’ now.

“(Y/N) sweetheart who is that man?” Her deep voice is like velvet as she holds out her mug of coffee kindly.

Stevie had been coming to the diner way before you were born, you’re sure of it. But ever since your first day, she had always been there to support you and be patient with you while you were learning the ropes. Not many people gave you that kinda kindness out there in a dog eat dog world, but Stevie came from the life of showgirls and pageants and drag queens, and she knew how far a little kindness could go when you were new at somethin’.

She didn’t do much preforming anymore, content instead to be surrounded by handsome men and live a life of quiet luxury, but still she came into the diner for a cup of coffee and to do the daily New York Times crossword on the newspaper Fish never finished.

“Which, the guy doin’ the shoutin’, or the guy gettin’ shouted at?” You teased, filling the mug up with enough room for her to daintily pour in however much cream and sugar she’s feeling in the mood for that morning.

“Shoutin’, the big guy, the one in the tank top.” She appraised the big guy from over the rim of her mug, and you grinned, your heart filling with pride.

“That’s my Pale.” You said happily, watching him bitch and shout at someone for fucking something up. You didn’t know what it was, you hadn’t really been paying attention, still too high on your own bliss from his cock.

“He new around here?” Stevie asked and you waved the idea away.

“Nah, he manages the diner in the city, the one we just opened up ‘bout a year ago or so.” You explained, making her eyebrows raise over her glasses.

“No kidding! Well next time I make a run into town I’ll be sure to stop by.” She winked, and you grinned, shook your head at her unashamed attitude. You loved and respected that about her, how someone of her age was still going strong, still getting laid.

“He’s so handsome, ain’t he?” You found yourself sighing, watching him get red-faced from shoutin’ and strikin’ up a cigarette, angrily suckin’ it down.

What a guy, you couldn’t help but think.

“Yeah, he really is. You’re a very lucky lady, (Y/N), he reminds me of the nice young men I used to meet down at Fire Island.” Stevie poured the sugar and cream into her coffee with a wistful sort of smile, making you frown the smallest bit.

“What do you mean ‘used to’, Stevie I know you’re still down there gettin’ your kicks, ain’t ya?” You asked, hoping that everything was alright.

“Oh believe me, I try.” She scoffed, “But you know how it is these days, what with…the whole thing that’s goin’ on.”

You think of Robbie, think of so many others, who would end up the same way. Your heart breaks to think of Stevie ending that way too.

“Yeah.” You say softly, with understanding, with empathy. You know, and it weighs heavy on your heart, but you put on a smile anyway, not wanting to get yourself upset, not now.

“Scary times we live in. I’m just grateful to wake up and see the sun shine another day, frankly.” Stevie brightened the mood back up, and you’re grateful for it.

“I’m grateful you do wake up, and I’m grateful you come here, and every day when you do, I’ll be here to serve you coffee, okay?” You winked, topped off the mug when she took a sip.

Just then, the little bell on the front door chimed, and you don’t bother to look over your shoulder just yet to see who it is. The breakfast rush had begun to die down, so you knew there would be a table or two open for whoever it was, depending on how many people they brought with them – and anyway you were with someone.

“Just a second!” You called out, just to make sure they didn’t feel ignored or neglected.

“Do I seat myself or what?” The woman at the door asked, and your blood ran cold, because you recognized that voice.

After just one meeting with the bitch, you recognized her voice.

Slowly, you schooled your face into a neutral expression, and turned to face her – Barbie.

She was standing there in that same fur coat, but this time there were diamonds dripping from her earlobes and hanging around her neck. She smoked a Virginia Slims just as she had the other day, and you tried your very best not to reach out and snap it in half.

Instead, you walked over to her, grabbed a menu and looked at the seating chart, and led her to a little booth by the window. Not Pale’s booth, but somewhere with a lovely view of the street.

“Are you stalking me or something?” You asked, when she sat down prim and proper, huffed and puffed and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear even though it didn’t do much on account of how fuckin’ hair-sprayed it was.

“I’m not here for you.” She said bitterly, and you sucked on your teeth.

“Well he ain’t here.” You lied, not wanting her to cause any more trouble than she already had, not wanting to stress Pale out anymore than he already was.

“Bullshit, I saw you walking together.” She blew smoke in your face, and you made a mental note that if she ordered any food, you’d spit in it before serving it to her.

“He ain’t here for you.” You clarified, not even bothering to wave away the cloud of haze that hung around your face. You had real good practice with dealing with smoke, you wouldn’t let her get the benefit of having it effect you. “You want something, I’ll get it for you, but you’re not bothering Pale.”

“Why the fuck do you keep calling him that? Everybody calls him that here.” She gritted her teeth and flicked her ash on the floor, as opposed to the ashtray that was literally right in front of her on the table.

“That’s what he introduced himself as, that’s what we call him. We respect chosen names around here.” You made a point of saying, before lifting the pot you were holding and asking, “Coffee?”

“I’ll take a mimosa.” Barbie shook her head, and you wanted to strangle her.

“We don’t have mimosas.” You said instead, and for whatever fucking reason, she’s shocked by this.

“You don’t have mimosas?” Barbie acts scandalized, and your patience for her was wearing thinner and thinner by the minute.

“Of course we fucking don’t have mimosas – look we’re not some fancy brunch bar on a tropical island like you’re used to, okay? We got coffee, tea, milkshakes, egg creams, soda, juice and water but we ain’t got mimosas.” You snapped, ready to walk away and call someone to come get rid of her.

She must have noticed, because she sighed dramatically and nodded.

“Coffee’s fine.” She said, holding out her cup.

“I know you’re not here to order anything, so please, do me a favor and just leave, okay?” You poured her coffee, and hoped that maybe she’d have some sense to cut her losses with whatever she was trying to pull.

“No I want to talk to you.” She sighed again, “I lied earlier, I came here for you, to talk to you.”

There’s honesty in her eyes, and you hate that, because you ain’t ever seen that before. You’ve only met the woman twice, but this was the first sincere expression that had crossed her face, so you find yourself pursing your lips into a straight line.

“Wait here.” You said finally, before walking to the back.

He was working on something in the office, sifting through paperwork. You didn’t know what it all was, but he was dressed up nice and normal, his stint in the kitchen finished for the day. You almost didn’t want to bother him, not with this, not with something like this, but it didn’t feel right to not tell him.

“Pale?” You asked gently, not wanting to startle him the way you sometimes did when he was engrossed in his work.

“Yeah sweetheart?” He asked, looked up at you and patted his thigh.

You went easily, sat yourself down on his lap and tucked your head on his broad broad broad shoulder, padded jacket making him so wide, even though he don’t need the help.

“If I tell you something you gotta promise to not get mad, okay?” You didn’t know how else to say it.

“That fuckin’ guy botherin’ you again? I swear to god I’ll beat the shit outta him honey you say the fuckin’ word and I’ll – ” Pale got all riled up, and you smiled sadly because you wished it were that easy.

“It’s her, she’s here. She wants to talk to me, but hey listen – ” You cut yourself off because he was already getting ready to jostle you off his lap and go storm the fuckin’ diner to get rid of her, so you clamp your hands on his cheeks and force his head to turn towards you. “Hey, look at me. I’m going to try and talk some sense into her, woman to woman. I’m going to figure out what she wants and then I’m going to get her to leave, okay? I don’t want you comin’ out and getting all angry, please, please stay in here for me for a while.”

“I don’t – ” He shook his head, but you kissed him, real deep.

“Do you trust me?” You whispered, when you pulled away, searched his eyes. You saw panic there, and your heart broke for him.

“O’course I do.” He whispered back, chewing his lips and the inside of his cheek with those perfect crooked teeth of his.

“Then stay in here. I don’t need your blood pressure going through the roof over this bitch alright? I’ll come back here and tell you all about it when she’s gone.” You said, getting up off his lap.

“I trust you, it’s her I don’t trust.” He caught your hand in between his own bear paws, and you only smiled at him.

“She ain’t gonna tell me anything that’ll make me change my mind about you.” You promised, and with that, he let you go.

She’s still sitting there when you return, thankfully. You were mildly worried that she wouldn’t listen, and would come storming into the fuckin’ office and cause a scene like she had at the apartment. But there she was, smokin’ her Virginia Slims and drinking her coffee, grimacing at the traffic that passed by the window.

You put the coffee pot on a warmer near the kitchen, and slid into the bench seat opposite of her, crossing your hands on the table.

“Before I even let you say anything, I have to ask, why now?” You started, because you were genuinely curious.

“Why now what?” She looked at you like you had two heads, and you could see how this would resort to a screaming match, could see exactly why Pale and her spent so much time yelling.

“The fuck am I talkin’ to, a brick wall?” You grumbled, “Why now as in why are you all of a sudden interested in him again? Why, after all these years, do you suddenly give a shit? After everything you’ve done to him – ”

“Everything I did? You don’t know, you don’t even know the half of the shit he put me through.” Barbie bared her teeth at you like some feral thing, and you figured you know what, let her get it all out.

“What’d he put you through Barbara, tell me.” You gestured for her to spill.

Once you did, the floodgates were open.

“He was never home! Do you know how hard it is to raise two kids on your own? You can’t even imagine, can’t even fathom the thought of having to care for two small children all by yourself – he left me alone in the house all day every day, would come home sometimes at five or six o’clock in the mornin’ when the kids were just waking up, and he’d come home a greasy fuckin’ mess, a disgusting slob, workin’ in the kitchens all day. I wanted kids desperately and he didn’t want any, but he had them anyway and if you have kids you have to take care of them.”

She said it all so quickly and so easily, it was as if she’d complained about him a hundred thousand million times, it felt like she was reading from some sort of script, a monologue memorized inside her brain.

“Where did you work?” You asked, when she took a shaky drag of her cigarette.

“What do you mean?” She asked back, and you really were getting tired of having to repeat yourself.

“Ya know, how did you financially support the family?” You explained, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“What the fuck are you talking about I didn’t do any fucking work, I stayed home with the kids, that’s work enough.” She scoffed, and you bit back any comments, just shrugged.

“What else did he do to you?” You asked, and she went off.

“The drugs, god the fucking drugs. He was hopped up all the time, all the fucking time. I don’t think the kids ever saw him sober, between the coke or the booze. I would scream at him all fucking night for shit like that, when he came home like that. My god I would scream, how could you do this to yourself? Night after night. It was murder on my throat.”

“He always wanted to have the dirtiest sex – the kind of sex that lands you in hell, you know. I never agreed to it, never agreed to anything other than pure and simple missionary but god, even the thought of it felt so fuckin’ dirty I couldn’t stand it. He would get so mad, ask me why I even bothered if I was gonna just go clean him out. As if I needed a third fuckin’ kid to take care of!”

“You know he’s got connections to the mob? That’s why I had to go down to fuckin’ Miami and live with my parents – he’d get into some fights with some guys at a bar for makin’ fun of little Robbie, and the next goddamn thing I know, there’s some guys at my door knockin’ sayin’ if Jimmy don’t leave them alone, they’ll kill me and the kids! We almost had to go into witness fuckin’ protection!”

“He was a lousy gift giver, always fucked something up. If I wanted a white coat he’d get me black, if the kids wanted a train he’d get them a car, it was a mess. It was like he didn’t fucking know us at all – probably because he was never home. It got to the point where we just asked for money to buy ourselves shit because we couldn’t count on him to deliver anything right.”

“All we ever did was yell. He’d come home and he wouldn’t listen to me so I’d yell to make him hear me, and he still wouldn’t listen. It was fucking ridiculous. So yes, I left him, because I couldn’t take it anymore, and I thought he was going down a path that was going to put our kids in danger. But now, now he’s turning his life around. He’s got a real good job with the Philharmonic, making good money to support the family, and maybe we can have another try.”

After her speech, you’re dumbfounded. You’re stunned, how a woman could be so callous, so cruel to someone who obviously cared about her so much. Or at least, cared once upon a time.

You almost don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything for a real long time.

Maybe it was only a couple seconds, or maybe it was an hour, or maybe it was a minute, you didn’t know.

But eventually, eventually you furrow your brow and take a deep sigh, and you don’t even bother to look at her because you don’t want to see her face, it’ll make you sick.

“So, let me get this straight. You left him because he worked long and hard hours to provide for you and his children, who are all so ungrateful that you scream at him when he gets a minute to himself, and he sometimes got in trouble for defending his gay brother. You left him because you couldn’t take not being waited on hand and foot, even though he did do that for you, gave you whatever you wanted, but it wasn’t good enough. And now you’re back because you hear he’s got more money you want to leech out of him, in addition to the money he already sends you to keep you afloat – which is much kinder than I would have done for you if it were me. Did I miss anything?”

And now it was her turn to be stunned shocked scandalized. She was expecting you to side with her, but if anything, it only turned you against her more. You wanted nothing to do with this woman, nothing at all.

“You’re a real cunt, you know that?” Barbie asked, more of a rhetorical question.

“Did I miss anything?” You repeated, and she slumped back in her chair, all the answer you needed. “Let me tell you something about Pale.”

“I don’t want to hear – ” She shook her head but you cut her off with a steely glare.

“No, it’s my turn to talk, your turn to listen.” You snapped, loud enough for the people around you to turn their head, but not loud enough to hold anyone else’s attention.

Barbie looked like she’d never been interrupted like that before, and you wondered if maybe she hadn’t.

“The first time we ever met, he was coked up out of his mind, and fucked me so hard I couldn’t walk the next day, and you know what? I cooked him breakfast the next morning, and he almost cried about it, because he couldn’t remember the last time anybody, ever cooked for him.” You said, and you thought to yourself that if you smoked, you’d be in desperate need for a cigarette right now.

“And I thought to myself, somebody this big and important – you could tell he’s important, you know? Could tell with the way he dresses and walks and talks, he acts like he owns the whole wide world. That ain’t true of course, but he’s sure got the confidence for it, he owns something. Somebody this big and important’s gotta have someone taking care of him, someone to go home to at night, someone to love him. He’s got so much love to give, somebody’s gotta be there to take it.”

You couldn’t look at her, so you look out the window instead. You look at his shiny black car in the lot, and you remind yourself of how the first time you ever saw it, how you thought it looked like the nicest thing that’d ever been parked there.

You still think that.

“But night after night he’d go home alone, he’d leave the apartment alone, he’d eat and sleep alone. I could tell, I saw since my apartment’s right across that little street there. He’s big and brash and loud, but he’s gotta be lonely. A person can’t be all by themselves for that long and not get lonely. He’s a solver, Pale is. He solves everyone’s problems. You got a problem, you call Pale. Whether it’s the restaurant he managed before meetin’ me, or problems of friends, problems of family, he solved them. Nobody ever did anything for Pale, nobody was ever a solver for Pale.”

“What’d he solve for you?” Barbie asked, and for once, there was no malice in her voice.

“I was lonely too.” You said simply, toying with the little thing of wrapped silverware there at the placemat in front of you. “I didn’t think there was anybody out there for me, and that was okay, for a time. I never got my chance at settling down with a white picket fence, two kids and a dog in the yard, and that was okay too. But I would come home late at night all by myself, and so would he, and I would think you know, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be alone together.”

You thought back to those first nights, those first times when he would talk to you out of his fucking mind, would hold you too close and cry in your hair.

“But god, once I started knowing him, I mean really knowing him, it was like I ain’t ever met anyone like that before. Someone that vulnerable and that insightful and that wise, all wrapped up in a man who could come crashing through the door and nearly take it off its hinges because he missed me.”

“He had so much love to give, so much love that he didn’t know where to put it. He didn’t have a place for it all to go, and it was spilling outta his heart like a leaky faucet. He kept stashing it in the wrong places, kept trusting the wrong people with it, and he kept getting hurt. He’s still hurt.”

“And me? Well I thought I was all dried up from love. I absorbed all his emotions like a sponge, and that shocked him, I don’t think he’d ever had someone who would take him so steadily like that. I wanted so badly to give him everything, even though I didn’t have much to give at all. But I gave him what I had, and I took all that he couldn’t handle, and in the end, we fell in love.”

You don’t know how or why, you decided to say all that. But it needed to be said, needed to be put out there into the world. Those words needed to leave your lips. You didn’t like talking about yourself too often, but it needed to be said.

Barbie stubbed out her cigarette then, scoffed to herself.

“Jimmy doesn’t do love.” She shook her head, and for the first time you see the age in her face, the toll that this relationship had taken on her.

You don’t pity her for it, but you do recognize it.

“Pale loves more strongly than anybody I’ve ever known.” You said softly truthfully genuinely, “He just has his own way of showing it. It’s not his fault you never bothered to find out.”

Barbie stood up then, dropped some money on the table for the coffee, and slung her purse over her shoulder.

“How does it feel, being the other woman?” She asked, looking down on you physically and metaphorically, from her spot standing by the table.

“I wouldn’t know.” You said simply.

She didn’t say anything else, just turned around and walked away, out the diner and into her car and off to who knew where.

You’re shaking, and you didn’t know why. Maybe it was the confrontation, maybe it was the weight of the world pressing down on your shoulders just then. You didn’t know. You wanted Pale, wanted to be near him, wanted to pour love down his throat like an unending fountain, wanted to make up for all the lost time he spent with that woman.

You went to him, back to the little office where he resumed his paperwork.

His head snapped up when you opened the door, and he stood up quickly, rushed to you.

“Is she gone?” He asked, and suddenly he reminded you of the terrified man crashing into your apartment, eyes too wide and blown black from coke in the grief of his brother.

He wasn’t high, hadn’t yet snorted up a bump, but you opened your arms for him anyway, cradled his head close to your chest anyway.

“She’s gone.” You confirmed, kissed his temple.

“What did she say?” He asked like he was afraid to ask, asked like he was preparing himself for the worst, for your rejection of him.

“I told you, nothin’ that changed my mind about you.” You assured and reassured and reassured him again, “If anything, I think I love you more. I’m sorry you had to deal with her for so long – are still having to deal with her.”

“I’m not, not really. I only deal with you, but I like dealing with you.” He shook his head, looked up at you with those eyes of his, sad nervous brown eyes, that were slowly slowly slowly becoming the cheeky teasing Pale you knew.

“Yeah?” You egged him on, tugged on one of his big ears.

“Yeah, you’re a fuckin’ brat and a half, but you’re mine.” He pinched your nose, gave your face a shake and smacked your ass, willing his hands not to shake.

“Love you.” You said softly then, cupping his cheek tenderly, carefully.

“I know.” He whispered into your palm, “What say you and me take the rest of the day off, Jess said she’d cover for you.”

You laughed and shimmied away from him and his wandering grabbing hands, smacked at his fingers when they went to reach for your ass.

“Pale you can’t just ditch work.” You rolled your eyes – when the door opened.

“He’s not.” Your boss popped his head in, sitcom timing in full effect.

Pale had wrangled you into his arms, and wasn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon, not even in the face of your boss, of his business partner. You tried not to be embarrassed with the way Pale was hugging you, but you loved being hugged by him so much that it didn’t matter.

“Hey Fish, you feelin’ any better?” You smiled at your old friend.

“Yeah, needed to get out of the house. Had to make sure the diner didn’t burn down to the ground.” Fish chuckled in that dry laugh of his.

“Ha ha.” Pale rolled his eyes then, rested his head against your stomach as your hand came up to his hair and he asked, “Is it okay if we go?”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Fish winked at him, making you groan – he was like your grandpa, you didn’t need that sort of comment.

“Bye.” You said with a laugh, you and Pale detangling enough to only wrap yourselves up in one another as you walked back home.

----------------

The walk back was nice enough, for being in the afternoon. Everyone was on their lunch breaks, so the streets were busy. You couldn’t help but think Pale’d be pissed if he had to drive, he’d be stuck in the lunch rush.

You don’t say much, on the way back. Mostly content to listening to Pale ramble on and on about the differences between this diner and the one in the city. It was impressive how he noticed everything, every little detail. You still hadn’t been to the diner in the city, maybe one of these days when you both weren’t so busy you’d make him take you.

You walk arm in arm, on the way back. Normally you’d hold hands but you wanted to be closer to him, and he let you, only complained a little about it. He still offered you his jacket, and this time you took it.

You wore it all the way up to the front door of the apartment complex, where Barbie was waiting inside the lobby.

Pale came to a halt, just outside the big glass door.

“Fuck.” He hissed, and your heart sunk.

“I’m sorry I thought she’d leave us alone now.” You sighed, bracing yourself for the worse, wondering briefly if she’d go so far as to shoot you.

Pale opens the door for you, and the two of you step into the lobby, and Barbie doesn’t say a word.

She hasn’t changed or anything, looked exactly the same as you had last seen her only an hour ago at the diner, but now she’s holding something. A thick manilla folder, unmarked on the outside. There are some dents and bends in the cream colored cardstock, and her hands clench around it a few times before finally shoving it in Pale’s direction.

“Is this…” He swallowed hard, taking the folder from her. You held your breath, because you thought you knew what it was, but you weren’t sure, couldn’t be sure until he opened it. But Pale knew, Pale knew and he frowned. “Barbie what kind of fucking game are you playing.”

“Three’s a crowd.” Is all Barbie said, before passively brushing past him, shoulder checking you as she went.

The two of yous watched her go without a word, and he looked to you, before looking down at the folder.

“Holy shit.” You said softly, when the divorce papers came into view, when the dotted lines have been signed by fresh ink, a signature recently given. “…Is that?”

“Let’s go up.” Pale’s hands were shaking now, and you know he wanted to get high.

Or maybe, maybe with this feeling, he already was.

He was all over you, the moment the door to his apartment closed. He dropped the folder on the kitchen counter, scooped you up and held you tight as he walked you through the lavish space, back into the bedroom. He couldn’t stop smiling, wouldn’t stop grinning, and you found yourself smiling real big with him.

“Let me get a look at you?” He asked as he dropped you onto the bed, makin’ you bounce bounce bounce on the mattress.

You laughed and smiled and nodded as he worked the buttons of your uniform dress open, as he shuffled it over your body, freeing your skin to him. He was drawn to it like a moth to a flame, and pressed open mouthed kisses all across your collarbones and the flesh of your stomach.

“You can look at me for as long as you’d like, you know.” Your hand buried itself in his hair, as he kissed lower and lower and lower, until he was shimmying down your panties and diving into your pussy.

He ate you out like he was starving for it, kissing and sucking marks onto the skin of your inner thigh. Hs lips and tongue paid all their attention to your clit, hard sucks that were designed to get you to come down his throat as quickly as possible.

You didn’t hold yourself back, not one bit, let yourself get lost in the eager pleasure Pale gave you. You were coming into his mouth, gushing all over his chin and fingers in mere minutes. He was going to fuck you later, you both knew that, but this, you didn’t know what this was. Maybe it was a thank you, maybe it was just a quickie, maybe maybe maybe. You didn’t know, but you were glad for it, for the orgasm that washed over your spine.

“What’d she mean – three’s a crowd?” Pale asked, climbing up your body and wiping his chin on the back of his hand, kissing your cheek your neck your tits.

“I don’t know.” You said honestly, because you didn’t. “What’s that old saying?”

“I like that.” Pale said softly, taking your hand in his, “The two of us.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you. And you looked right back. You turned to your side, faced him and traced the shell of his big ear with the tip of your pleasure weak finger, smiled at how he was still dressed in his fancy suit, his silk shirt and tie, even those boots of his. He had been in such a rush to make you feel good, to taste you, that he hadn’t even shucked his own uniform for the day.

He looked at you, and you looked right back. And hadn’t that always been it? Hadn’t it always been the two of yous, always just you two, together out there in the world, braving it and facing it every day.

“As long as you’d like.” You said with a smile.

“Careful sweetheart, I might just ask you for forever.” Pale said, voice just above a whisper, meaning it, meaning every word.

“I’d say yes if you did.” You replied.

And when he looked at you, and you looked at him, you knew he knew that you meant it too.

And the two of you let yourself get lost in each other’s eyes, glad to know that there was one less obstacle in the way of forever. Just you two, the two of yous, two’s company.

The End

----------------

Thank you all so much for going on this journey with me, I really really hope you liked it. Tagging some Pale pals!

@fullofbees @dreamboatdriver @thecurlycaptain @bourbonboredom @driverficarchive @rosalynbair @redhairedfeistynerd @glitzescape @adamsnacc-kler @kyloxfem @fallin-for-youreyes @attorneyl @jedihbic @bens-rose @formerly-anonhamster @thepilotanon @hippieface @tinyplanet-explorers @satansstrawberry @oberynmartell @whiskey-bumblebee @kyloxgirl@helloimindelaware @ah-callie @proxyfoxy @theold-ultraviolence @ktellmeastory @emily-strange @anongirl007 @zimmerxman @okk–maaan @autumnlovesadam @solotriplets @flapjacques @hidingp @goodboybensolo @dearestalladay @the-marvelatic @miasera @kylo-ben-ren-solo @hazydespair

#pale x reader #pale/reader #pale/you #pale burn this #burn this broadway #adam driver burn this #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #adam driver character #pale fanfic #pale fanfiction #pale smut #pale imagine #my writing #twos company

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colesterstrudel · 5 years ago

Text

Everything But the Kitchen Sink

Michael Cole/Reader: You own a bakery with your best friend, who can’t come in on one of your busiest days. Luckily, you have a customer who is more than willing to help you in your time of need. Smut but not all the way bc I kinda forgot how to write smut so.......

ANYWAYS HERE IT IS, FOLKS. THE OFT-MENTIONED MICHAEL COLE FIC. IT’S HERE. IT’S FINISHED. LIFE IS SWELL.

Tagging @sporadic-fics @helplessly-nonstop @wrestlingfae @renegademustelid @cookiethewriter @concussed-to-pieces @toxiicpop @thirstiswet @moxleysbaby @itsreigns @shadow-of-wonder @ilovesamizayn @merchfreak @paintedneverland

You knew owning a bakery would be hard work, had prepared yourself for that when you finally got the money to open the place with your best friend. The hard work didn’t scare you off, but made you more determined to make your bakery the most successful in the city. Two years in and you were well on your way to meeting that goal, new orders coming in every day, fairly steady visitors. It was all coming together.

Until today, when your best friend called to tell you she couldn’t come in. The seasons were changing and she was stuck in bed, allergies waging war on her immune system.

It wasn’t a problem, of course, you couldn’t have her at work when she was sneezing every three seconds. But today was a big day, with three large orders needing to be finished and picked up. You could do it, you knew you could, but having her here would definitely be a big help.

On the bright side, you didn’t have too many visitors in the morning, meaning you got to spend most of your time in the kitchen. You were in the middle of making ten huge trays of brownies, five of them in the oven as you mixed the sixth when the bell above the door jingled.

With a sigh, leaving the giant bowl of brownie batter behind, you headed for the front of the bakery.

“How can I help you?” You asked, mind still focused on the mountain of work you had waiting for you in your kitchen. The customer was at the far end of the pastry cases nearest the door, barely even looking up as you walked to the register.

“I’m just looking, thanks,” he replied, finally looking up for a moment to shoot a smile your way. He was a little older, soft lines and wrinkles accentuating his smile with short salt and pepper hair. For a moment, you were struck by how attractive he was, but you shook it off, focusing instead on helping him to be in and out as fast as possible so you could go back to the work you had to do.

“Take your time, let me know if you need anything.” You smiled back at him as best you could, eyes finding the clock on the other wall. Time was slipping away and you still needed to finish the brownies for your second big order before moving on to the final touches on the cupcakes for the third order. Luckily, your first order had already been picked up that morning, but there was so much to do and so little time.

Just as the customer was making his way to the register, ready to tell you his order, the oven timer went off. “I’m so sorry, give me just a moment,” you apologized before rushing back to the kitchen to take the brownies out of the oven. On your way back through the kitchen, a lingering glance on the bowl of brownie batter still to be completed, you ran into the counter and knocked over your cocoa powder as you fell to the floor.

You were attempting to stand up and assess the damage when someone cleared their throat in the doorway in an attempt to get your attention. One glance told you the customer from just before had made his way back behind the counter to check on you.

“Are you okay?” He held a hand out to help you up and you took it gratefully, finally standing up from the mess on the floor.

“I’m fine, thanks,” you said, shooting him a smile that hopefully didn’t look too pained. “If you give me just a second to clean this up, I’ll be right back out there to help you.”

“Do you, uh, need any help?” The glance he took around the kitchen told him all he needed to know. The huge racks of cupcakes still cooling in the corner, brownies scattered across every available bit of counter space.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask you to help,” you flushed, wiping your hands on your apron. “It’s fine.”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering.” The man seemed to make the decision for you, heading for the hooks by the oven and grabbing a spare apron to slip over his head. His fingers deftly tied the knot in the back before heading back over your way. “Now, what do you want me to start on?”

It only took you a moment to think about how absurd these circumstances were before you graciously accepted his help. “In that binder over there,” you began, pointing to a three inch purple binder across the counter, “is my double chocolate brownie recipe. We only need to mix up a few more batches and get them in the oven.”

He just nodded, moving to get the binder and flipping through it on the counter right next to you. It was silent, the two of you working on your own batches of brownie batter, dancing around each other in the kitchen with ease. It was nice, to finally not be too stressed about getting orders done since there was someone to help you again. And that meant the brownies got done quickly, allowing you two to move to frosting the racks of cupcakes that had been cooling since that morning.

The customer-turned-bakery-assistant was a quick learner, picking up exactly how you liked the swirls of frosting to look on top of your cupcakes, sprinkles generously added afterward.

Three hours later, all of the orders were complete, the brownies had already been picked up, and you were finally able to let out a relieved breath.

“Thank you for the help,” you told the man you’d worked beside for hours as you walked towards the front of the bakery. “If there’s anything you want, it’s on the house. You didn’t have to spend all your time helping me.”

“It was my pleasure,” he assured you, smile wide on his face. “And don’t worry about it, I don’t need anything in return.”

“Are you sure? I made some Kitchen Sink cookies this morning that are really good, if I do say so myself.” You smiled back at him, tilting your head towards the pastry case that held the cookies in question.

You sent him on his way with a dozen cookies and a smile, watching as he waved from the door. It wasn’t until you saw him drive away that you realized you never even got his name. And you weren’t sure you’d ever run into him again.

————

“So you never even got his name?” Nattie asked after you regaled her with the story of the kind stranger from the day before.

“No,” you groaned, resting your head on your arms with a dramatic sigh. “And I’ll probably never see him again so it’s not like it even matters.”

“It doesn’t matter?” Nattie shook her head, laughing. “Then why did you just spend an hour telling me about him?”

“I don’t like your tone,” you told her, glaring as you sat up. “It doesn’t matter. We have work to do, anyway.”

“Whatever you say, boss lady.” As Nattie walked towards the front, leaving you to pour in the kitchen alone, you heard her mutter under her breath. “He doesn’t matter but you spent all that time detailing his smile. Yeah right.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but closed it almost instantly, head sinking back down onto your arms. What have you gotten yourself into?

—————

Something about the delivery you needed to make two and a half weeks later wasn’t sitting well with you. It was pretty standard, all things considered. Six trays of brownies and six dozen Kitchen Sink cookies, a simple order. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the order was weird, that today was a weird day.

You had already sent Nattie home for the day, closing the bakery a little earlier than usual so you could go straight home after delivering the only order you had for the day. She offered to make the delivery for you, allowing you to go home and relax, but you waved her off. At least this way you could use the drive as a way to clear your head, get some fresh air.

But first, you had to juggle all the boxes in your hands as you rang the doorbell, trying to keep them all straight as the door opened in front of you.

“I have a delivery for Michael…” you trailed off, finally looking up after getting the boxes to settle in your hands. The man at the door was the customer from before, the one who helped you when you obviously desperately needed it. The one you couldn’t quite get out of your head. “Michael Cole,” you managed to finish, your thoughts going a mile a minute.

The smile on his face was throwing you off, making it impossible to think. It was the same kind smile you saw so often all those weeks ago as you looked at each other across the kitchen in your bakery, the smile that was in your thoughts constantly since then. You had come to terms with the fact that you would probably never see it again, not in person, but here he was standing in front of you.

And suddenly the order you had in your hands made sense. The dozens of kitchen sink cookies, the brownies. Everything you two had worked so hard to make together.

“It’s good to see you again,” Michael said, smile never wavering.

“It’s, um, good to see you, too,” you stuttered. And then, unable to stop yourself from being a mess, “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“I wasn’t sure I’d see you, either.” His reply came so easily, he seemed entirely unaffected. The complete opposite of you, mentally screaming right in front of him. “But a friend is having a party and I offered to bring some snacks and then I remembered your bakery…”

“Oh, well, I’m glad you thought of me - us. Glad you thought of the bakery.” The smile on his face seemed to only get wider as you struggled to recover from your inability to string appropriate words together. “Well here’s your order. Hope everything’s to your liking. You know where to find me, us, the bakery if you need anything again!”

And then you were practically running to your car, slamming the door behind you before hitting your head against the steering wheel. You misjudged the distance, however, hitting right on the horn and jumping as it blared. Your eyes flutter immediately to Michael’s door, seeing him still standing there, laughing, and you put your car in gear quicker than you ever had before. You had to get out of there before you embarrassed yourself further, if that were even possible.

——————

“So do you still think it doesn’t matter, or are you finally admitting to yourself that something’s up between you two?” Nattie asked, smug smile on her face as you explained to her what happened on your delivery the day before.

“Shut up,” you grumbled, absentmindedly tapping your fingers on the counter in front of you. “I made a complete fool of myself in front of him and now I know I’ll never see him again.”

“He probably thought it was cute that you were so flustered,” she offered, one eyebrow raised. “And you thought you’d never see him again before and things didn’t work out that way. I’m sure you’ll see him again.”

“Yeah, long enough for him to tell me he thinks I’m weird or something.”

“I mean, he could say that. Or he could ask you out. Or maybe just order more of the Kitchen Sink cookies. You said he liked those, right?” Nattie was having a little too much fun at your expense, so you stood up to make your way back to the front of the bakery.

“When you’re finished with your little comedy routine, feel free to come do your job,” you told her, ignoring how hard she was laughing as you walked away from her.

Of course, you couldn’t quite get her words out of your mind. You may see him again, that much was true, he does know where to find you. But what would he say, that was your first concern.

With a shake of your head, you cleared your mind, focusing back on the things you could control. You could control the bakery, the layout of the goods in the cases, interacting with customers. You could focus on that, instead of letting a man you barely know take up every moment of your thoughts.

At least, that’s what you were telling yourself.

————-

One week later and you were alone at the bakery again. This time, however, you weren’t so stressed about Nattie’s absence. For one, there weren’t any deliveries or huge orders that needed to be done. And with her gone, you wouldn’t have to deal with her knowing stares as you gazed at the pastry case the Kitchen Sink cookies were in. It was a win-win for you.

Or it would be, if you could keep your mind off of Michael Cole. You hadn’t seen him since you delivered the cookies and brownies to his house, but you couldn’t stop hoping that you would see him again sometime soon. The more time passed, however, the surer you were that you wouldn’t see him ever again, that you had embarrassed yourself too much making that delivery and he would pretend he had never even met you.

Maybe you did miss Nattie being around, after all. At least she would distract you, keep your mind from turning to Michael every five minutes.

With a heavy sigh, you glanced at the clock and saw there were only ten minutes left until closing and decided to start cleaning up. You hadn’t had any customers for a few hours, so you were sure you wouldn’t have any until closing.

Of course, the bell above the door jingled as someone walked in just as you went to the back with a few trays of cookies to put up. “I’m so sorry, I was just cleaning up!” you called out to the customer in the front. “But if you’d like anything, I’d be more than happy to get it boxed up for you!” The customer service smile you had plastered on your face when you came back through the doorway to the front of the bakery faltered just slightly as you saw who was standing there. Michael was here, standing right near the door just as he did the first time he came in, soft smile on his face.

“I can leave if you’re closing up. I don’t want to keep you from anything,” he offered, gesturing to the door.

“No!” The word was out before you could even think it through, practically yelling at him as you stepped forward to the break in the counter. “No, you don’t have to. Is there something I can get you?”

His eyes flitted briefly to the pastry cases, then focused right back on you as he moved further inside the bakery. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, grip on the counter next to you tightening as he moved closer.

“I just came by to see you,” he explained, stepping in front of you. Now you were separated by just a few feet of space, one swinging knee-high door breaking up the counter. You had been closer to him before, both while making the delivery to his house and while he helped you bake all those weeks ago, but there was something about the distance between you today that felt as if you were closer to him than you had ever been and simultaneously further away than you wanted to be.

“Well, here I am,” you laughed, nerves prickling even through the casualness of your words.

It was silent between the two of you and you felt as if time had stopped, or even just slowed down. His grey eyes were glued to yours and you opened your mouth to say something, to finally break the silence. Before you could get a word out, he was through the partition, pressing his lips to yours. The counter was digging into your back but you barely noticed as your fingers found their way to the fabric of his shirt, twisting to hold him closer so you could kiss him back.

And then you remembered where you were - in the middle of your empty, but still technically open, bakery. The lights were on full blast and anyone walking by could see you pressed into the counter, back arched obscenely into Michael. With that in mind, you reluctantly pulled away just slightly, breaking the contact and letting out a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Michael began, pulling back, hands dropping from where they were resting on your waist. “Did I misread-”

“No, no,” you assured him, wincing at the huge wrinkles in the front of his shirt from where your fingers had twisted into the fabric. “But we’re in the middle of the bakery, the door is unlocked, anyone could see…”

His grey eyes widened as he looked around, as if only just now realizing that you two were in full view of anyone in the street. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think about that. Should I just go?”

“Absolutely not,” you answered faster than you meant to, words sharp. “Just...Give me a second.” You brushed past him, headed straight for the front door to lock both locks and turn the sign to read ‘Closed.’ You hit the main light switch, watching as the front of the bakery went dark, the only lights the ones in the front windows, before walking back to where Michael still stood, eyes following your every move. Grabbing his hand as you passed him again, you pulled him along behind you to the kitchen in the back.

“So,” you began, smile wide as you released his hand and turned to look at him. “What brought you back here to see me? It can’t possibly be that first day you dropped in and saw me on the ground covered in cocoa powder.” You laughed at the memory, at how mortified you were when you saw him standing over you to help you up.

“I don’t know, I thought you were endearing.” His smile matched yours and he inched even closer, leaning against the counter next to you. “And I couldn’t get you out of my head when I left, but I was sure that you wouldn’t be interested in me, given the obvious age difference. I’m glad to see I was wrong about that.”

“Very wrong,” you agreed, cutting into his sentence.

“It took me a while to convince myself to come back, but I found myself driving over here before I was even sure of where I was going. And I’m glad I did.” He reached out, pulling you into him again. “Very glad I did.”

“Funnily enough, so am I.” You smiled as you leaned in to kiss him again, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt once more. The kiss was harsher, deeper than the one earlier and before you knew it, you were perched on the counter in front of Michael, hands tearing at the buttons on his shirt. His own hands were working their way under your shirt, inching it up your sides. He broke away long enough to pull your shirt over your head, shrugging his off his shoulders after you got it unbuttoned all the way. “You know,” you sighed, tilting your head to the side as he rained kisses down your neck. “I don’t usually do this.”

“What? Invite strapping older men over to your bakery to have your way with them?” he asked, laughing into your skin.

“Excuse me,” you laughed, breaking off into a moan as his hands moved the cup of your bra down, fingers pinching at a nipple. “I did not invite you, you just showed up.”

“I can leave at any moment,” he offered. His hands betrayed his words, however, reaching behind you to unhook your bra and pull it off your body.

“Not a chance. You’re stuck here now,” you warned, arching into him as he kissed down your neck again. You felt him smile against your skin again, biting lightly at the juncture of your neck and shoulder before coaxing you to lie back on the counter.

“Noted,” was his only reply before he closed his mouth over a nipple, teeth just barely scraping against the tender flesh. The moan you let out was damn near other-worldly as you arched into him, fingers fumbling down towards the waistband of his pants.

Your brain was foggy, too focused on enjoying the way Michael’s tongue moved against you, his hands gripping your hips harshly, and trying to get his belt undone that you never heard the back door open.

“Hey, I saw the light on when I passed by and wanted to stop in and - oh, whoops.” Nattie’s voice rang out and you shrieked, trying to sit up and cover yourself at the same time as Michael fixed his belt.

“Nattie, what, um. What are you doing here?” you rushed out, pulling your shirt over your head haphazardly.

“It doesn’t matter, just pretend I was never here,” she told you, hiding her eyes behind her hand. “But you must be Michael. I’ve heard a lot about you, you know.” She held her free hand out to shake his and you groaned, head dropping to your chest as Michael let out a laugh.

And to think that the night started out with such promise.

#wwe fic #wwe fanfic #michael cole #michael cole fic #michael cole fanfic #this is my life now lmao

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tjkiahgb · 5 years ago

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Episode Recap: 3.16, “One Girl’s Trash”

I love when this show deals with serious topics. Just lays out a minefield and dares me to make jokes around it. Guns? Fine! Homophobia? Sure! Racial stereotyping? Let’s do it!

I mean, no, wait, it looks like I’m saying “let’s do racial stereotyping.” Please don’t do that! It’s bad! I’m saying let’s make jokes about the episode which contains... oh forget it, I’m just going to start the recap. Nobody quote me out of context, okay?!

Anyway, remember how the gang was criminals last episode? Well, the justice system works and it works fast.

Andi, Buffy, Cyrus, and Jonah, as part of their community service for garbage theft, pick up trash in a ditch.

Well, they pick up about one in every five pieces of trash. The rest of it they just kind of leave behind.

Cyrus’s allergies are killing him. Buffy’s foot is killing her. Jonah’s miserable. Everyone’s having a bad time.

Well, everyone except Andi, who’s treating this trip through a trash-filled ditch like a trip to the crafts store.

What kind of madman just tosses a pile of paper towel tubes in a ditch? You’d have to have been saving up paper towel tubes. For a while, too, because there’s seven of them, and it takes me like at least a month to go through that many paper towels.

So you go through a roll of paper towels and go, okay, I’m going to hold onto the tube for some reason. A month passes and you go through another roll. Another month, another roll. Seasons pass. You keep stacking up the tubes. They’re piling up in your kitchen. One day, seven-plus months into your project, you look at the tubes and decide, you know what, I’m going to take my tubes for a walk today. So you put on, I don’t know, I assume a full three-piece suit and top hat, and you’re walking down the street, cradling your stack of paper towel tubes and suddenly, you see it. A ditch. A ditch full of trash. You look at the trash. You look at your tubes. Your beautiful tubes. The tubes you’ve dedicated the last half-year of your life to collecting and then you decide, this is it. This is what I’ve been saving them for. I finally know their purpose. And then you full body huck them into the ditch and walk away.

What I’m saying is, if I’m Andi, I’d leave those tubes alone, because the lunatic who did this is still out there, and they might come back for them.

Andi stops and asks if it’s okay for them to keep all this garbage.

Sure would’ve saved them all a lot of trouble if anyone bothered to ask this last week, but at least we know their rehabilitation is working. They’re using their brains now and thinking through their actions, and that’s how you prevent repeat offenders.

They all head to The Spoon after putting in three hours of hard time. Andi brings her bag of trash and sits it at the table.

Why not? It worked for Trash Can Buffy.

If I ran The Spoon, I’d stop this right here and right now. First they brought in a trash can. Now they’re bringing in literal bags of trash. You don’t put an end to this and next thing you know they’ll be dumping their garbage from home on the floor. These kids are going to single-handedly knock your health code rating down to a C.

Jonah excuses himself to go talk to Amber. He tells her he won some tickets from a radio show to a Go Kart track.

Which is a weird contest. Don’t most radio shows give away like, VIP passes to concerts?

“You’re tuned in to 95.4. Other stations may get you backstage to meet Beyonce, but we’re the only station in town that’ll get you day passes to Racer’s Edge! Limit two rides. But if you ask the food vendor real nice and tell him that Beardo and the Hound Dog sent ya, he might give you a free pretzel! His name is Greg. He’s a cool dude. Aw aw awwwooooo! *a series of wacky stock sound effects* *someone saying 95.4 four different ways*”

Amber is thrilled anyway. She’s excited to be getting anything from Jonah.

Amber quickly recovers by saying she “would love to” and is saved from getting any follow up questions only by the grace of having said that to Jonah, who has no interest in such things.

Jonah returns to the table, where he learns Buffy is hangry. Now, I’m not up to date on all the new young folk slang, but I do believe that’s when you feel a bit like an airplane hangar. “I’m feeling very large building with an extensive floor area, typically for housing aircraft right about now.”

Amber comes over and slaps the check down on the table. Andi’s like, we haven’t ordered. Amber says it’s a preliminary estimate. Andi’s like, that doesn’t make sense but Amber plays it cool.

JUST READ THE PAPER AND DON’T TELL YOUR FRIENDS WHAT IT SAYS AND COME OVER AND TALK TO ME. I mean, let me get you all some bread to start.

Andi reads the secret note. It says to meet Amber in the back. Now. Andi excuses herself to go talk to Amber.

Watch my bag, she says, like someone’s going to make off with the loot. A thieving opportunist who sees a chance to add to their collection of worthless junk makes a daring dash, snatches the bag off the chair, and flees the restaurant in a bold heist. Gone in seconds.

Or maybe she’s just worried someone from The Spoon is going to do their job and throw the bag in the dumpster where it belongs.

Andi makes her way to the back and talks to Amber. Amber tells Andi she told Jonah she loves him. To which Andi is like...

...but in an empathetic way.

Andi’s like, you said those words? Amber says unintentionally but Jonah still smiled anyway.

Andi says that’s just what he does. That he’s the only known person with resting happy face. That his demeanor is almost always one of joy. And not just any joy. The sort of vacant joy where you try to look behind the eyes to figure out what he’s thinking but there’s nothing really going on back there. He’s happy just to be alive, and doesn’t want to, or perhaps can’t, think about it much more deeply than that.

Amber’s like, whether that’s true or not, he didn’t recoil in horror when I said it, so that’s a victory in my book. And looking to build off that victory, Amber asks Andi what would happen if she said she loved him for real.

Amber wants to know how it could be a bad thing to say you love someone. I mean, one answer might be if you’ve been in a middle school relationship with that person for only like, a couple weeks, and they’re notoriously weird about commitment and you don’t want to freak them the heck out.

Amber is undeterred. She decides she’s going to do it and she thanks Andi for encouraging her to go for it.

At Bex’s, Bex washes dishes. Bowie comes in and realizes she’s not wearing her engagement ring. Bex took it off while doing the dishes so it wouldn’t fall in the drain. This makes Bowie wonder, should they even still be wearing engagement rings when they aren’t engaged? Bex is like, they’re love rings and Bowie agrees to keep them.

At school, Andi’s class has been gathered in a circle of learning for an assignment from their teacher. They’ve each been given a slip of paper with a classmate’s name on it and have to describe their classmate without saying their name or using what they look like.

Andi volunteers to go first. Her classmate is from Philadelphia.

This kid figures out she’s talking about him.

This is a bad assignment.

I mean, even not going into what comes next, it’s a bad assignment. The teacher is doing this to prove the students are more than how they look on the outside, but by making the other kids pretend to be each other, you’re making them hit the most basic things they know about the other person.

Harris is going to go home tonight and think about how all one of his classmates had to do to pretend to be him was go, “Look at me, I’m a nerd from Philadelphia!” He’s going to be lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking, I knew it. I knew I mentioned I had a twitch channel to people too many times! C’mon, Harris! Get your head in the game. Better burn my Phillies t-shirt first thing in the morning.

So what did we learn? If you look at Harris, you might think: nerd, but once you really get to know him, he’s actually quite into graphic novels. Checkmate.

And let’s be honest, this is like the best the assignment was going to go. The worst the assignment could go?

Well, popular girl Kristina takes her turn. She’s like, oh, I don’t really know this girl. Um, there was the party she threw one time. That was cool.

Struggling to come up with a second thing, Kristina decides to dive head first into racism.

She says the person is probably good with computers.

Kristina, no!

Harris immediately steps in to throw himself under the bus as well.

Harris, no!

Andi’s like, no, that’s not me, but the teacher checks the slip of paper she gave Kristina and it is, in fact, Andi Mack.

I can’t believe how much Kristina just went for it. If I don’t know a thing about Andi and I’m sitting there, looking at her and pretending to be her, I fail the assignment before I jump to stereotypes.

“I like red sweaters and pants with holes at the knees?”

And if the teacher’s like, “Don’t use physical stuff,” then I go right to generic.

“I like certain types of weather, and hanging out with my friends and/or loved ones, and I don’t like car accidents or famine.”

And if I’m still being pressed to continue after that, I fake passing out. Or just keep going like, “And I... and I, um... and I-eee...” like I was thinking of something else but I’d try to make “And I” sound more and more like Andi and hope someone bails me out. I am the most popular girl in middle school, after all. People like me. They want to help me in the hopes that I’ll pay them attention. Perhaps let some of my popularity rub off on them so they may know what it feels like. God, to have such power. What I would’ve done with such power.

Anyway, point is, you had so many options, Kristina!

Later at Andi Shack, Andi tells Buffy and Cyrus about what happened. She says Kristina just thought, Andi’s Asian, so here’s a list of Asian girl things.

Andi says Ms. Frankel used it as a teachable moment about stereotypes, which, let’s be honest, is what she wanted all along. What was the point of the lesson if not to pivot to that discussion?

Andi’s upset people don’t see her as more than that. Cyrus, on his third straight episode now of questionable takes following “Bex and Bowie are manipulating you by saying your feelings are valid,” and “We should consider Mint Chip’s side of this argument as a business,” says that maybe Kristina thought she was complimenting Andi.

Okay, in fairness, that’s true. Kristina isn’t a malicious racist, she’s just a big ol’ dum dum.

Andi feels disappointed that while these kids have known her for years, they’ve never really known her. She decides to do something about it.

That night, Bex returns to the apartment to the smell of Bowie baking a four cheese lasagna.

I feel like I’m intruding on these two in this scene. I should go.

Andi’s not going to be there that night, so it’s just a romantic dinner for them.

First though, Bowie wants to know what they should do with Celia’s snow globe gift. He suggests putting it in a couple of places in the living room. Some are too visible, some too invisible.

Bowie’s like, maybe we can stow this shame globe away in Andi’s room?

The oven dings and the lasagna bails them out from having too much more of this awkward conversation.

Cyrus stops by Andi Shack that night with a box of stuff to help with Andi’s project, whatever it is. Andi still doesn’t know yet. She’s in the gathering stage.

Cyrus gives her the prison jumpsuit.

And the social experiment wristbands.

And the wig he wore at the party.

Oh, would you look at that, a very minor trip down memory lane and it’s already poking me in the heart. It’s all downhill from here, folks.

The next day at Racer’s Edge, Jonah and Amber do some racing.

Amber beats Jonah badly. She laps him. Which is sort of what you’d expect from her. She has that kind of aggressively-fast-driver energy. You know she’s going to wear out the horn once she starts driving real cars, and her car will absolutely have one of those overly antagonistic bumper stickers that says something like, “Drive FASTER or get out of MY WAY!”

Jonah tells Amber she’s so fun to hang out with. She sees this as her opportunity. She tells him she loves him, but is drowned out by passing karts. She tries again.

Jonah’s like, what? You want to race again? Okay! And off they go, leaving a lot of food on the table.

I hope they come back for that.

Later, Amber tells Andi what happened.

Andi says it’s maybe for the best Jonah didn’t hear her say love. Once you let the love thing out of its cage, there’s no putting it back in. Amber doesn’t want to mess up this relationship. She gets what Andi’s saying.

Andi walks down main street and spots Jonah inside Red Rooster. She heads inside and asks him for a frisbee.

Andi asks if he wants to go to The Spoon to hang out, but he doesn’t want to in case Amber’s there. Andi asks why he’s avoiding her.

Jonah tells her he heard Amber say love, but just pretended he didn’t, which I absolutely love. It’s the long con! Dude’s been oblivious for 14+ years, permanent smile on his face. Everyone knows this about him. So when the time came to deal with something he didn’t want to, what did he do? He kept the dumb smile on his face and played oblivious! And no one suspected a thing! It’s brilliant! He doesn’t realize how much in life he can get away with like this.

He’s worried though that he’s used up his “I didn’t hear you” excuse, so what’s he going to do next time?

Jonah thinks sooner or later though, he’s going to have to respond.

I honestly think Jonah can play this out as long as he wants. He just has to keep up the distractions. I lived with a family for three years by convincing them I was their cousin, and every time they asked me how specifically I was related to them, I’d say I had to go to the bathroom or needed a nap and then I’d disappear for two days. It worked like a soft reset. When I’d finally return, they’d have other questions for me, but not about my identity. Jonah can keep this up with Amber, he just has to commit.

Andi’s like, just because Amber said love, doesn’t mean you have to. Jonah’s like, hell yeah I don’t.

Honestly, good for him. Better than lying about your feelings just to appease her temporarily.

Jonah wants to know why it can’t just be fun instead of love. Andi says that for some people, it’s the same. Jonah’s like, well, if that’s what it’s going to be, I’m going to have to break up with her.

At Celia’s, Bex and Bowie run into each other. Bowie’s doing plant stuff. Bex is getting her wedding dress to return it. Bowie’s kinda surprised to hear that, but then he’s like, yeah, yeah, guess that makes sense, it’s just too bad I never got to see it.

Bex agrees to show it to him. Bowie turns to put something down and when he turns back...

Bowie loves the dress, and what’s more, he wanted to see Bex in the dress, and he wanted Andi to wear the dress when she gets married, and now none of this is going to happen because the wedding is off.

Bex wants to know why he didn’t say something before. Bowie thought he made it clear through his actions that he really wanted to marry her. Bex said he told her it was okay when she said they shouldn’t get married. He says it is okay because it’s what she wanted and he wants her to be happy. She wants him to be happy, too. He is happy, he just didn’t realize what seeing the dress was going to do.

Bowie excuses himself. Bex is left to think about some things.

At school, Andi has laid out her project.

Several questions.

1. Where did she construct this whole thing? Did she make this in Andi Shack? There’s no room! Did she make it in the backyard and move it to school?

2. Where did she get these giant panes of glass? They look expensive. And whether she moved the entire thing to the school from home, or brought all this stuff to school and assembled it there, this all looks incredibly heavy. Did she hire people to help her because I can’t imagine her doing this all by herself.

3. Did she get permission to put this in the middle of school? I would think so (hope so), but I just want to check to make sure someone knew this was happening ahead of time. Because, otherwise, a huge, mysterious object showing up in the middle of school with “DO YOU SEE ME NOW?” written on it multiple times feels vaguely threatening.

Kinda supervillain-ish.

And if I saw those paper towel rolls in the pile of stuff, I’d really start to panic. I’d think Paper Towel Tube Man was leaving the school a message.

Final question.

4. Why are Buffy and Cyrus dressed like they’re background dancers in a ‘90s R&B music video?

They look like they’re trying out for the school’s stage production of an old episode of Saved by the Bell.

I guess it’s fitting. Andi fashioned a bunch of garbage into an art project, and Cyrus and Buffy fashioned several different articles of clothing into new tops.

I’m just sad about how many neon predatory cats had to die to make Buffy’s, though I appreciate Cyrus making use of old wallpaper for his shirt instead of discarding it.

Anyway, they’re slightly confused about what they’re looking at. Andi tells them they have to see it from a different angle. She leads them upstairs.

They look down and see the project. They’re amazed.

No, it’s an Andi self-portrait.

This girl in the red is hands-on-chest amazed even though she has no idea what she’s looking at.

Well, either that, or she’s in tremendous fear about what this pile of garbage left in the middle of school means.

Andi’s teacher congratulates her on her project. So do Cyrus and Buffy.

And with just four episodes left to go, she might just be right.

#Andi Mack #Buffy Driscoll #Cyrus Goodman #Jonah Beck #Amber #Bex Mack #Bowie Quinn #Harris Gurney #Kristina the Popular Girl #Ms. Frankel #episode recaps

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rahabs · 5 years ago

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tagged by the lovely @davesgahan ❤ merci my friend!

name: cheyenne nicknames: chey, melia zodiac: aries height: 167cm (just under 5′6″) languages: english, german, latin, old english nationality: canadian (first nations/cree + irish) favourite season: winter favourite flower: gorse, tiger lily favourite scent: smoked leather and campfire. also, anything with vanilla. I also love citrus. favourite fictional character: oh so many that I will likely forget. excluding fictional portrayals of known historical figures (which elimates a lot) and my OCs: revan, odysseus, percy weasley, kylo ren, reynard the fox, bertilak de hautdesert (the green knight) coffee, hot tea, or hot chocolate?: tea or hot chocolate. average sleep: 3-5 hours. dogs or cats?: dogs. unfortunately, I have a fairly severe allergy to cats, save a few breeds. number of blankets: four, but one is a down quilt. dream trip: across the uk, across ireland, across germany & austria, and a desert crossing. I have been fortunate enough to do all of these, save the last. blog established: god, august 2011 I believe. random fact: most people didn’t realise I’d cut my hair to my jawline for months because thanks to years of dance I am an expert at putting my hair in various types of buns and making those buns look at least semi-substantive (aka like I actually have enough hair to do it traditionally, which I don’t), and because I hit the gym a lot, I usually have my hair up. so when I wore it down, I had ten different people tell me it looked great and asked when I cut it, even though I’d cut it over a month ago. also, I’m a natural redhead of sorts (I was born with three different hair colours and right now if I let it grow out it would be a golden-brown auburn, which is very annoying since red hair is hard to cover with dye). gender: female. current time: 21:21 (9:21 PM) favourite artists: I assume this means music? nightwish, loreena mckennitt, fidil, powerwolf, stoneburner, delain, thomas tallis, william byrd, palestrina, arash, lindsey stirling, scorpions, within temptation, kamelot, clamavi de profundis, etc. stuck in my head: uist tramping song. last movie I saw: some like it hot (1959) last thing I googled: indian act amendments. other blogs: I have a couple sideblogs, largely for storing things. do I get asks?: not often anymore, unfortunately. reason for URL: I wanted a more neutral URL that wasn’t specific to any one thing, and of course, I can never resist a good plague doctor reference. followers/following: I just hit 1850 followers today (it’s actually been sitting consistently in the 1800 range for about five years now), and following 105 blogs! lucky number: seven. currently wearing: army green leggings, my faculty of law fleece sweater, and two ankle braces. dream job: truthfully I always wanted to dance professionally, but was physically barred from it due to chronic injuries. I also wanted to be a stage performer re singing, but I’m not cutthroat with music and hate competing witth music, so, lawyer, and published author of historical fiction. favourite foods: fish, milchreis, strawberries, oatmeal, irish stew, ice cream, carrots & hummus, curries. instruments: piano, clarinet (e flat, bass), oboe, saxophone (alto, tenor). I’m also a singer (coloratura soprano with a four octave vocal range). favourite song: many, including die schatten werden länger from elisabeth das musical; last of the wilds by nightwish; the highwayman by loreena mckennitt; allegri’s miserere; jyn erso & hope suit by michael giacchino; the red baron by sabaton; joey batey’s redition of toss a coin to your witcher; and various folk songs and old historical bits including ai vis lo lop, non é gran cousa, the rocky road to dublin, star of the county down, twa recruitin’ sergeants, etc.

tagging: @allegoriesinmediasres @temporisfilia, and I tagged a bunch of people earlier today, so if I tagged you then, you are tagged again! And if I didn’t tag you, and you want to do this, then I hearby tag you! My brain is unfortunately mush after three hours of law school classes, two hours of CBs, and two hours of actual real-world legal application.

#tag games #me #about me #long post

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pinkykitten · 6 years ago

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Winsome

The Wolf Among Us

Bigby Wolf x plus size! reader

Warning: curse words, reader feeling self conscious

Specifics: fluff, romance, one shot, plus size reader, race neutral reader

People: Bigby Wolf, you, toad, Snow White, Prince (oc)

Words: 2,233

Requested: By @native-snowflake Hi! Could you please do a Bigby Wolf x Fat!Reader where the reader thinks he likes Snow because he’s always around her but he’s really asking Snow on how to ask the reader out? Thanks 😊

Authors Note: this is one of my fav video games its sooo good. also i have such bad back pain cuz of my amazing period. i want to die rn ✌️

The alarm clocked beeped rapidly on your nightstand. The sun was just rising, creeping up to give you a morning hello through the window. Silencing the clock you get up with a groan and a moan. “Its to early,” you declare, getting up anyways.

You were a reporter, a newspaper reporter. Many folks in Fabletown would often see you with a camera hanging from your neck. Many, many, many people hated you. The reason? Well, you went into their business I mean it is your job. You would get the juiciest stories with the best pictures to back you up. That’s why the newspaper company you worked for, “The Mermaid Times”, always made such good money. It was because of you.

After eating and getting ready for the day you decided to pick your outfit. It was difficult in the times you lived in, and the more so. These people weren’t just ordinary humans, they were fables. Now do you see any plus size princesses, damsels in distress? Unfortunately, it was difficult to find outfits fit for your job and size. Your dress code was a classy blouse, and skirt. You searched endlessly through your closet. “C’mon y/n you’re gonna be late,” you scolded yourself.

Finally, you put an outfit together that was suitable for your job.

When you put it on you twirled around in it, trying to find the best parts of it. But nothing. “I don’t know about this.” You placed a hand to your stomach, you really hated how you looked. It just felt awkward, nobody was really your size. The only people that could stand for plus size would be...the trolls. You sighed and saw the time, “oh my god I’m gonna be late!” There was no time for you to sulk and cry you had to go to work and fast!

Walking down the street you chuckle to yourself. “Theres toad back at it again.” You quickly snapped a picture of him walking around, not glamoured. “Its to the farm for him soon.”

You quickly ran to the building. You were working hard more than ever. These murders showing up were not normal and you were the one who had to make sure these stories informed the people of Fabletown.

“Hello sir, sorry I’m late. “ You gave a guilty smile as you shook hands with your boss.

“How many times do I need to tell you this y/n, come in at 7. God is it really that difficult?”

“No sir its just I-”

“Please get to work!”

You quickly ran to your office and shut the door. Your boss’s name was Prince. Apparently to him he was the one who saved Nerissa and that they were in love. Remeber, the Little Mermaid?

You huffed down in your dingy chair and placed your fingers on your temples. A knock came through. “Come in!”

One of your co-workers rushed in with many paperwork. “Boss wants ya to get a interview with Snow and Sheriff Bigby. Think you could do that?”

Your whole mood changed. Seeing Bibgy? You and Bigby go way back. You and him are longtime friends. Your heart started to beat rapidly. You also had a liking to Bigby. He was kind to you, and rough around the edges. You knew about his past but chose not to dwell on those instead you dwell on the man he has become today. A sheriff that is pretty dam* good at his job.

“Um excuse me y/n?”

“Oh,” you hadn’t realize you were spacing out. “Yes of course I can do that. Thanks.”

You go to the mayors building and try to find the assistant deputy mayor office. You feel self conscious inside because many times you have realized that Snow has a better job than you. It made you feel in a way stupid and not important.

You found her office and gave it a light knock. This interview had to be a little quick because you wanted to ask Bigby while you interviewed him if he would like to go out for dinner.

You opened the door and low and behold...Bigby was there. “Of course,” you muttered but quickly put on a fake smile.

Unknown to you Bigby heard you and saw your expression. He stood up when you entered the room and his face showed it all. His love and adoration for you.

“Hello there y/n! What a surprise, how are you?” Snow asked, covering her mouth because her and Bigby were...eating.

“Well okay then,” you whispered to yourself. Dinner plans are over.

“I’m...good. You guys look great. So I was supposed to interview you and then Bigby but since you’re both here I guess I could interview you both together.” You gave a hug to Snow and lightly gave a hug to Bigby. You didn’t want Bigby to touch your stomach or just touch you because you know you’ve gained weight. As you interviewed them you saw the way they sat by each other, looking in each others eyes, finishing each others sentence. You could tell they really cared for each other and why wouldn’t she get anybody? She was a perfect size, beautiful in the face, kind, sweet, caring. You were the fly on the wall while she was the princess. You would always be the fly on the wall, watching others have fun and enjoy life while you cry with a tub of ice cream to comfort you.

You stumbled upon your last question to them, “um, I.” You felt tears coming down your face and you sniffled them. “Sorry,” you kept your head low, “allergies. Well I think that settles it. Thank you both enjoyyourday!” Running to the exit you stumble your way out of the building but not until you hear your name being called.

It was Bigby. You curse under your breath, “of course god dam*it!”

You walked faster through the traffic and went across the street from the building.

“Y/n I know you hear me!” Bigby called out, running to you. You stood by a drug store awaiting him knowing you wouldn’t even stand a chance with him.

“Yeah sorry I couldn’t hear you with all the traf-”

“Whats wrong? Why are you crying?”

“Oh its nothing.” In your head you wanted to slap yourself. You wanted to tell him all about your insecurities. Wanted to tell him how much you love him. “Really, the big bad wolf I’m fine.” Your gentle hands found themselves on his cheeks, feeling the rough scratch of his facial hair.

“Y/n, you can tell me anything right? I’m here for you sweetheart. And I mean I am the sheriff so I have to make sure you are doing okay.” Bigby wanted to hit himself for that terrible joke.

You looked into his eyes and already you felt better. You laughed and ran your fingers through his hair, “silly Bigby. I’m fine, just go over there. You don’t want to leave your soulmate Snow anymore. I mean I always see you guys together, its like you’re inseparable. Thats okay though, thats how love should be.”

Bigby looked at you weirdly, shaking his head. He tried to go against what you were saying and say his part but you wouldn’t let him speak.

“My advice is...go to that pizza place down the street its frickin amazing.” Great, food. Thats all you talk about. Well it didn’t matter, who were you trying to amaze, certainly not Bigby. “See you around Bibgy. Also if you don’t know which color she likes just always go for white, usually that works.” You quickly but sweetly placed a loving kiss on his cheek and left waving.

Bigby was left startled at what you said. “For god sakes y/n I don’t love Snow I love...you.”

Bigby P.O.V

From the moment he met you Bigby was in love. Bigby and you were friends for ages but he always knew he wanted to be with you. Bigby was always there for you, even during those times when you didn’t love yourself. He always wanted to make sure that you knew how much he loved you, but now, now he felt like a failure. You thought he liked Snow!

Bigby slammed the door to Snow’s office. Angry with himself.

“Did she realize it? How did you tell her? Oh please tell me you didn’t get down on one knee?” Snow pestered Bigby into telling the details.

“Snow I didn’t ask her out! Alright, I didn’t ask her out.” Bigby rubbed his temples in stress.

“What do you mean? You didn’t do anything that I taught you?”

“Snow, y/n thinks that me and you are together, like in love.”

Snow felt bad and bit her lip, “ and she’s been seeing us together a lot so no wonder she thinks that. Oh poor girl. I feel so bad, I wanted her to know how much you love her. She’s always coming to me sometimes for interviews when in real life she wants someone to talk to. She has such a good heart yet she feels so terrible about herself.”

Bigby stood up and placed a cigarette in his mouth. “I’m gonna do it.”

“Do what?”

“I’m gonna tell that girl, my girl, how much I love her. I’m gonna make sure she knows how sexy and beautiful she is in my eyes. She needs to know this and she needs to hear it because shi* it is the truth! I love her Snow, I really love her.”

Snow smacked Bigby lightly on the head, “then what are you waiting for Romeo? GO!”

End of Bigby P.O.V

You, again, these moments happen many times in your life, are sitting on your couch, watching the notebook while eating a ton of ice cream and crying your heart out.

“Why can’t I look like that? Why can’t I have love like that? Guess its just you and me,” you said to your ice cream, eating a spoonful.

Suddenly, someone knocked on your door. You didn’t think anything of it so you didn’t try to cover yourself up. You trudged to the door and opened it. You wish you would of covered yourself up.

It was Bigby. You tried closing the door but Bigby was too strong.

“No Big you can’t see me this way. I don’t have makeup on and I look terrible!” Your arms showed through your pj, you weren’t wearing a bra, and your stomach chub was visible.

Bigby came in and saw you in your state. You tried covering yourself up, you seeing ugliness while Bigby saw...beauty.

“Wow.” Was all he said.

“Trust me I know,” you answered back, looking in his eyes.

Bigby walked closer to you, and he could tell you were crying for a long time. Your eyes were red and your eyelashes were thick with your tears, your e/c eyes standing out to Bigby and making him weak. Your plump cheeks, stained with tears. Your lips dry, needing to be kissed to bring them back to a hydrated state. You looked like a goddess to Bigby.

“Sweetie-”

“Its fine, I’m fine. What did you want Bigby?” You sat on the arm chair of your couch, covering your arms and stomach.

“I wanted to tell you something. I wanted to tell you that,” Bigby heaved a heavy sigh. He was a man of few words, not much of a man expressing his feelings. But you needed his feelings right now, you needed all of him. “I wanted to tell you that I think you are beautiful. You think I like Snow, well you’re wrong. I actually like, well, love you.” Bigby scratched his head while you gasped. “Hear me out, I don’t want any one else except you. I think you are gorgeous, I think you’re prefect the way you are. I see someone so important, someone so hardworking, sexy, smart, kind, caring, really a gad dam* jem. In other words I came here to tell you that you don’t need changing and all that shi*, I just want you to feel loved.”

Bigby motioned closer to you and made you look up in his eyes. “I wanted to know if you would like to go out. Would you like to be my-”

Your lips crashed onto his, your fingers laced in his light brown locks. His lips tasted of cigarette and something unknown, something of Bigby. Your soft cheeks touched his rough facial hair in the make out session. Placing your hands around his neck you deepen the kiss. You wanted this more than anything. You have been in love with Bigby for so long that this is what you needed. Lips separating, you and him are panting.

“Sorry,” you bit your lip, feeling embarrassed.

“No don’t be, I really wanted to do that. That was actually...amazing. I meant what I said y/n, all of what I said, I meant it.”

You nodded and smiled a real actual happy smile, “I know.”

Bigby picked you up and placed you on his lap. You laid your head right on his chest, while his hands were wrapped around you. Bigby kissed the top of your head, “what are we watchin?”

“The Notebook,” you smiled at him, giggling when you saw him gag.

That night was perfect, Bibgy was sweet, funny, and just perfect for you. He made you feel loved and beautiful.

Tag List: @harrington-lover, @angelgl16, @perfectlybeautifulsuit, @dreamsofwhiteandblack, @hyehoney, @wtfisalltherandoms, @haven-prelude, @leasly, @totally-alexa21, @bappo-take-a-nappo, @multireese,@fanfictionrecommendations-com, @prentisskelley, @malereaderforkpop (cannot be tagged), @bi-shy-and-ready-to-die, @justafangirl-97

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#the wolf among us #bigby wolf #bigby wolf x reader #x reader #bigbgy wolf imagine #bigby wolf x plus size reader #plus size reader #chubby reader #bigby wolf x chubby reader #snow white #fabletown #video game #telltale games #video game fanfiction #fanfiction #race neutral reader #requested #winsome

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michael-radi-the-glamorous-life · 6 years ago

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God I Hope I Get It

Audition (noun) - A necessary, and often grinding, step to acquiring a theatre performance job, which some actors love, many actors hate, and everyone else is relatively indifferent to

*Warning: This post is geared mainly toward the actor-folk and those interested in the audition process!

Last week I found myself once again in an audition room - this time behind the table, which was a lovely change! Generally speaking, whether or not I am part of the casting team, I’m hearing/viewing auditions on a weird side angle from the piano. So this was a lovely little treat!

Over my years of taking classes and workshops on “THE AUDITION” I have certainly learned many things about the audition process, and particularly about myself as an auditioner. But there is no better way to learn the ins-and-outs, dos-and-don’ts, and [other-cliched-phrases] of auditions than to sit on the other side of the table and observe with non-actor-oriented eyes/ears.

So, here are some of the things I’ve learned about auditioning.

How Many People [Do They] Need?

Auditioning and Performing are completely different skills.

WHAAAAAAAAT???

Yep.

But how can that be? You’re performing something for other people in both cases.

Yes, italics-half-of-this-conversation, but to entirely different ends! And each requires it’s own skill sets.

When you perform in a show, you are part of a living, breathing production. It doesn’t matter how grand or how bare bones that production may be - or how large or small the cast is - a production is a live event in which the artists and technicians have crafted a piece with the purpose of conversing with an audience. And audience who has invested their time and/or money, nonetheless.

Auditions are not a production. The only people helping you out are the monitor and accompanist (if it’s a vocal audition), and they’re really there just to do their jobs and to work with every person auditioning. This time in the room is for you and you alone. And though you are not shutting out the other people in the room, your work is not a rehearsed theatrical piece meant to make them ponder XY or Z about the human condition - that’s not the conversation you are having. This conversation should be “Here I am, this is what I do, and let me know if this fits with what you’re looking for. Thanks!”

So what is step 1 to a great audition? Preparation.

Whether going into a room with an appointment or at an open call, know exactly for what you are walking into the room.

What are the shows? Especially if you’re being seen for a full season.

Who is behind the table and at the piano? Know this please!

What did they ask you to prepare? Do you have that, or are the stretching with your choices?

Did you arrive on time? Did you have time to breathe, fix yourself up, warm up, etc.?

Did you research the theater or production company? Always a good idea to get a sense of who they are and specifically what they might be looking for.

Did you enter the room with excuses ready? The train…I’m sick…Allergies…ehn! Just do what you can today! Excuses are unhelpful.

I am floored by how often it seems as though actors have not prepared before they enter a room. They may make choices that are incorrect for the season at hand, or they make excuses before they begin, or they miss their appointment times, or they treat someone (the monitor, pianist, reader) rudely…all of this is easily avoidable with a little research and time! It’s worth that extra little bit of work - it will make your auditioning life much easier!

*A particular note about accompanists: Please know how to speak to you accompanist about your piece(s) in a way that is professional and efficient. Things to note:

They are not your enemy - in fact, they’re the only help you’ve got!

Treat them kindly - Not only is that good human behavior, they may also very well be the Musical Director. And even if they’re not, they will report rude behavior to the casting team.

Succinctly tell them: 1) What the song is, 2) Where you are starting and ending, 3) Whether you’d like an introduction or a bell tone, and 4) Your tempo.

Speaking of Your Tempo - Clapping, stomping, tapping, and snapping your tempo is highly discouraged. It’s loud and comes off as rude. Simply sing a few bars of the song to them at the tempo you would like.

Thank them…twice. Once as you leave the piano to audition and once on your way out of the room as you grab your book. Kindness is memorable!

I Can’t Imagine What [They Want}

One of the weirdest things about auditioning is that everyone involved wants you to be the answer, to be exactly what they want/are looking for. You’d like that, the auditioners would like that, the artistic team would like that, etc. Everyone would be happy.

BUT…that cannot be on your mind as you audition. Oof. That makes things more complicated.

But why not? What if thinking about what they wants wills it into existence and I suddenly shine with the perfection of the role they’re casting?!

Uh, yeah. Cool. Though, I’m fairly certain it doesn’t work that way.

It should be an incredible comfort to the auditioning actor to know that you have zero control over whether or not you are the right fit. None. Whatsoever. Not a jot.

Then what’s the point of even preparing and trying???

Well, you always want to be prepared to showcase your best self. And if you want to work in theatre, then you have to keep trying (or else you won’t get jobs…). But this idea should be freeing to you!

It’s not about how well you feel you sang your cut that day, or how you didn’t like the way the pianist played your music, or that you had some flyaway hair you didn’t notice, or that the casting personnel barely looked up…these are all things that happen all the time and have no bearing on the outcome of an audition.

So what to do?

What Should I Try To Be?

Yourself.

That’s it. Just be you. Show us what you do best and what you enjoy doing.

If you’re possibly what we’re looking for, awesome! We’ll give you a callback and explore who you are a little further. And if you’re not what we’re looking for then there are several possible outcomes:

We enjoyed you and you made the day of auditions a little less terrible. (For let’s remember, sitting through auditions is rarely an energizing and lovely experience!)

We put you on file because you were great even though you’re not right today.

You’re right for another project someone in the room is working on and you will be kept in mind.

You actually were potentially right for the role, but we had to be stingy about callback time and made some cuts.

And you may never learn any of this, but it happens all the time. There is a gigantic machine of thought and consideration that auditioning performers never get the opportunity to experience. You just have to trust that your work - if it was genuine and good - got you noticed and considered in ways you may not hear about for weeks, months, or even years.

So how to be yourself?

Make sure your pieces are things you enjoy performing. Auditioning with your own, chosen material should be fun for you. It should not stress you out. Don’t choose something where you’re unsure that you’ll hit the high note on a given day, or where you haven’t gone through the acting moments yet, or just because it’s been in your book for a while, or because it booked you that one gig five years ago. What do you enjoy doing now?

What shows you off the best? Know the styles of material that work best for you, your voice, your acting ability, your style, your type, etc. Don’t try to be something you’re not. Play you your strengths.

Keep your audition book thin. Relieve yourself of the burden of songs you don’t perform any more or any other excess. Accompanists will absolutely look through your book, which means that anything in there is fair game to be asked of you to sing. So only keep the 10-12 song cuts that you can whip out at any time with confidence!

Be a human. This one may seem obvious, but people get weird when walking into audition rooms. Read them room on when to say hello. Try not to interrupt if they’re talking behind the table when you enter, but definitely say hello before slating your pieces. All of the rules that apply to general polite conversation apply to the audition room as well!

Treat the casting team as fellow humans before you perform, then ignore them. Look people in the eye and be yourself as you say hello and tell them what you’re going to do, then perform to a point that is not their eyes. It’s rarely a good thing to make people feel uncomfortable.

Hold the last moment of your piece! Don’t break the moment too soon, for this can ruin the effect of your audition piece - especially if you created a captivating moment.

Say thank you to the room, and then to the accompanist. It shows that you’re done with your audition, you appreciate their time, and it’s also just polite.

Walk out of the room. Sounds silly, but sometimes people run out, which can feel abrupt. Also, if you run it doesn’t give them time to potentially share glances and ask you for something else! One the flip side, don’t saunter expectantly out of the room either. That’s uncomfortable for everyone involved, and if they want to see more from you they will let you know!

God, I Really Blew It

Nah, you probably didn’t.

We are way harder on ourselves than anyone else is going to be. Let’s not forget that the people who are casting you are trained professionals who know how to spot what they’re looking for - the potential to be the right fit.

If you mess up a line or a note, they don’t care. They’re taking you in as a whole human and performer. We can easily hear around the errors to find what we need.

So don’t be so hard on yourself.

Treat auditions like another part of the day. It’s a job. You come in, you do your thing (and enjoy doing it), and then you leave. On to the next!

It’s easy to put large amounts of stock into an audition, especially if it’s a job you really want or if you haven’t been cast in a while, but those pressures aren’t going to help anyone - and least of all you. No one audition is make or break, so be kind to yourself.

God, I Think I’ve Got It

I know that’s a lot of information, but like any other set of skills it will become second nature with practice.

There will be good auditions and bad auditions. You’ll be thrilled with your work at times and bummed at times. You’ll get callbacks, you’ll get ignored, you’ll meet some great people, you’ll have (too many) terrible MTA experiences, and you’ll do it all over and over again. But that’s the gig!

Auditions are not monsters, they’re just your stepping stone to the jobs you want. Work on them, trust your skills, and be yourself. And hopefully, you’ll then be…as the kids say…#BookedAndBlessed.

#glamorous life blog #glamorous life #performer #auditions #actor #accompanist #casting #callback #A Chorus Line #preparation #relax #be yourself

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tozier-boy · 7 years ago

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The losers club Hogwarts AU

I said I would have done it and I did it. So here’s the first chapter of my Hogwarts Au! Any feedback is appreciated, and if you want to be added to my still nonexistent tag list, just say so!

All We Know

Chapter One Main pairing: Reddie Words count: 2306 Ao3

There was something oddly familiar in the smell of the train’s vapor, Eddie realized as he walked down the Hogwarts Express’ corridor. If he turned his head and glanced outside the window, he knew that he could have spotted his mother in the crowd, waving her arms (and probably elbowing anyone near her) and yelling some reminder about the pills being in the suitcase. But Eddie wasn’t turning his head, and he kept walking fast, praying for the train to leave soon.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t grateful to his mother for all the things she did for him, such as paying for his school supplies and send him treats from home every now and then, it was just that he was about to start his seventh and last year at Hogwarts, and the first years’ parents weren’t nearly as apprehensive and excited as his mom was.

It was embarrassing, and Eddie wasn’t having any of it. Not on his last first day, anyway. He was 17, for Merlin’ sake.

“Did you take your pills, Eddie-Bear? You know how dusty the library is! And your allergy might get pretty serious. Did you remember to pack your inhaler?” “Yes, mom.” “What about your Remembrall? So you’ll never forget to take your medications.” “Yes, mom.” “You’ll write to me, won’t you, Eddie? You wouldn’t forget about your mommy, right?” “No, mom.” “Will you be careful? You always need to be safe, Eddie. Do you promise you’ll always be safe?” “Yes, mom.” “You’re such a good boy, Eddie-Bear. Come give mommy a kiss.”

There was objectively nothing wrong about the whole dialogue. Except that it was entertained five minutes before. In the middle of the platform. In front of everyone. And of course, Mrs Kaspbrak knew nothing about keeping her voice down.

Getting on the Hogwarts Express was the thing Eddie looked forward to the most during his summers. September the 1st had been his favorite day since he was eleven years old, and nothing had changed that over the years. September the 1st meant Hogwarts. It meant friends and classes. It meant he got to sleep again in his cozy, warm bed in the Hufflepuff dormitory instead of bleach smelling sheets and it meant getting away from home. Eddie loved his mother, he really did, but Sonia Kaspbrak knew how to make it hard for him. Eddie didn’t feel like he needed his inhaler when he was at school, but he used it on a regular basis when he was at home. His mom lived in a muggle neighborhood. She moved there with Eddie’s father, since they both believed it would have been a safer and quieter choice, and decided to stay there after he died. Soon enough, she started to blend herself perfectly among muggles. She almost had a breakdown when Eddie got his letter, too afraid that something could have happened to her little angel in the wizarding world. If it wasn’t for the self washing dishes in the morning, Eddie would have believed his mother had lost her powers over the years. “Eddie-Bear! You’re such a good boy! Come give daddy a kiss!” Eddie stopped on his tracks as he heard that voice. He sighed and closed his eyes, feeling tired already. When he opened them again, Richie Tozier’s head was popping out of a compartment. Eddie prayed that he was being mistaking, but Richie seemed taller, which was honestly unfair, because he was already the tallest of the group and it was just inacceptable for him to keep growing like that. His hair, over the summer, had grown wilder and messier, a splash of freckles still covered the boy’s nose and his front teeth were still a little too big, but that didn’t stop Richie from smiling from ear to ear. His eyes, as usual, looked way bigger behind his huge glasses. “Shut your mouth, Tozier.” Eddie hissed. Of course Richie had listened to the whole conversation he had with his mother, because that was just Eddie’s luck. “That’s it? You haven’t seen me in months and that’s the first thing you want to say to your best friend?” Richie said, in mock shock. “Bill’s my best friend.” Eddie reminded him, rolling his eyes and walking past him into the compartment. Richie brought his hands to his heard and bent in two, whining and moaning in pain. “For fuck’s sake, Richie, sit down and give us a break.” Stan scolded, leaning against the seat and sighing loudly. Eddie giggled and sat down next to him, and the two boys bumped their fists together as Richie sat in front of them, folding his arms on his chest. “You are both so lovely today, aren’t you?” He launched his legs between them, and yes, Eddie could definitely tell that Richie was taller. Eddie wrinkled his nose, but a smile was tugging the corner of his lips. Of course he had missed Richie. He had missed every single one of his friends, obviously, but Richie was the loudest, hence the one you’d immediately notice if he was not around. Yes, Richie was loud and annoying and obnoxious and his jokes were honestly terrible, but they all loved him immensely. “Am I particularly handsome today? Because you’re staring, Eds.” Richie said, smiling widely. Eddie’s eyes widened and his cheeks turned bright pink as he moved his attention to the window, pleased to see that the train had started moving. “I wasn’t. And don’t call me that, I hate it when you call me that. Eddie is already short for Edward. It doesn’t need to be shorter.” “I don’t know, Eds, you’re pretty short yourself.” Richie said, laughing at his own joke, which only made Eddie roll his eyes and fold his arms on his chest. “Your jokes are getting old.” “Not as old as your mom.” “That’s not even an insult! It’s a mere fact!” “The fact that I bang your mom is a mere fact!” At that point, Stan got up and left the compartment, which didn’t surprise neither of them. Richie was grinning, and Eddie, despite himself, was too. As weird as it might have sounded, he had really fucking missed this. The bickering, the arguing, the awful jokes and the look of absolute joy that would lit up Richie’s eyes anytime he was getting attention. Things were already back to normal, and Eddie couldn’t have been more grateful for that. “Watch your trash mouth, Trashmouth, or there might be a missing student when we get to the castle.” Eddie said, but his smile hadn’t vanished. “You know, for a Hufflepuff, you’re rather hostile.” Richie said, gesturing towards the Hufflepuff’ patch on Eddie’s robes. “You guys!” They both turned their heads at the same time, but Richie was the first one to get up, lifting Beverly Marsh off of the ground and spinning her around. “Miss Marsh! Long time no see! How are you doing on this fine day?” Richie said happily, without putting her down. Beverly laughed lightly, wrapping her arms around Richie’s shoulders and planting a firm kiss on his lips. Anyone who might have seen them, would have thought they were a couple. A power couple, actually. They were both gorgeous: Beverly, with her wonderful auburn hair and her green eyes, and Richie, tall and lanky and with amazing cheekbones. They were both Slytherins, which meant they spent a great amount of time together, and they both had a crude sense of humor and a tendency to ignore whatever rule was given. But no, they weren’t a couple. That was common knowledge. They had been best friends since the very first day at Hogwarts. Inseparable, actually. “Let me down, you giant fuck. How fucking tall are you? Did your folks watered you overnights?” Beverly laughed, reaching up to ruffle his hair as he pushed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. “Hi, Eddie!” She said happily, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek. “Hi, Bev, did you have a nice summer?” Eddie asked cheerfully. “Horrendous, thanks for asking.” She replied, just as cheerfully, as Richie and her flopped down on the seat at the same time. “How about you?” Eddie shrugged and opened a pack of Skittles, which were always a great hit among those who weren’t used to muggle stuff. “Just as boring as usual, I guess. My mom still thinks I’m a fragile toddler, but what’s new about that? So yeah. Boring.” “He missed me.” Richie said confidentially, elbowing her lightly and making her laugh and shake her head. “Keep telling yourself that, Richie.” Eddie said, throwing a skittle at him and raising his eyebrows when the boy caught it with his mouth. Impressive. “Uh-uh-hello guh-guys!” Bill, already in his Gryffindor uniform, was standing in the doorway, smiling at pointing to his left. “Any ruh-ruh-reason why S-Stan’s buh-banging his head ah-against the window?” He asked, amused, and Richie gestured vaguely with his hands. “Leave him be, Billiam, he’s just being pissy.” He said, making room on his right. “Have a seat! Have a skittle! Why the hell took you so long to show up? Have your feet started stuttering as well?” Bill couldn’t help but giggle, but he choose to sit by Eddie’s side. The two of them hugged each other and Richie rolled his eyes. Bill had been Eddie's best friend ever since they could remember. Bill's parents were muggles, and they lived just next door to Eddie's house. The boys had met each other while playing out in the garden, and they could barely believe their eyes when they both got their letters. Bill even more so, since his parents were muggles. Eddie, on the other hand, was kinda expecting it. Bill had been there when Eddie's dad died, Eddie had been there when Georgie was born and Bill had to learn how to be a proper big brother. “Bill’s got a hug and he barely said hello to me.” He muttered to Beverly, loud enough for Eddie to hear. “Now who’s the one being pissy?” Eddie inquired, smiling smugly, hoping he wasn’t blushing. “Anyway, I wuh-was with G-Georgie. It’s his fuh-first day. He is a bih-bih-bit nervous.” Bill explained shoving a fistful of skittles into his mouth. “He duh-doesn’t want to be a S-Slytherin buh-beacause I’m a Gh-Gryffindor.” Richie and Beverly eyed each other. They hated how people seemed to believe that nothing good could ever came from Slytherin. If you asked them, being sorted into Slytherin, had been the best thing that had ever happened to them. Both Richie and Beverly didn’t come from pleasant families, so finding a new one at school had been more than they could have ever asked for. “Don’t worry, Bill, we’ll keep an eye on him if he’s sorted into Slytherin.” Beverly said, smiling at Bill, who smiled a grateful smile back. Everyone knew how much Bill loved and cared for his little brother and how much he missed him when he was away. “Who’s gonna be sorted into Slytherin?” Mike Hanlon, already in his black and yellow Quidditch sweater, was smiling brightly. He had been working out over the summer, because, Eddie noticed, he was way more built up. Among the boys in the group, Mike was probably the only one who already looked like more like a man and less like a boy. “Bless their soul, anyway. Being in the same house as Richie. Hellish.” Mike joked, bumping his fists with the boys and high fiving Beverly. “Ya’ll so nice to me today. I’m moved, I’m touched. Pour all that love on me.” Richie said, flipping them off, and they all laughed. Eddie could feel his heart feel up with joy as he watched at his friends: Beverly’s legs were thrown on Richie’s and her eyes were bright and slightly wrinkled at the sides from all the laughter; Mike was stealing some Skittles from the bag and talking to Bill, who was laughing and clapping his hands together. And Richie, of course, whose smile could have lighted up an entire city. Eddie felt his heart skipping a beat when Richie met his gaze and winked playfully, but ignored it and stuck his tongue out at him. “What did we miss?” Ben, who had grown taller as well over the summer, was grinning, but his gaze was fixed on Beverly. By his side, with a grumpy frown, was Stan, who sat down next to the window, greeting everyone who wasn’t in the compartment when he left. “Hello Ben, did you have a good summer?” Beverly grinned, shifting closer to Richie to make space for Ben next to her. Ben smiled back at her, slightly flushed on the cheeks, and sat down. Here we go again, Eddie thought, eyeing between Beverly and Ben, wondering if they were going to get their shits together this year. “Hey Ben, we’re going to beat your Ravenclaw’ asses on the field this year.” Mike teased. They had both been in the respective houses Quidditch teams since their second year. Ben was a beater, Mike was the chaser. It had became a bit of a tradition to go to every single Quidditch match together. Even if any of them were playing, they would go and root for their houses. “Bitch, you wish.” Ben and Stanley replied at the same time. “Yuh-you’re not even in the tuh-tuh-team, Stan.” Bill said, chuckling, and Stan shrugged. “But I’m still a Ravenclaw. And I enjoy watching Quidditch so, of course, I root for my house.” Ben and Stan bumped their fists together and Mike shook his head lightly, giggling. “This is gonna be a damn good year!” Richie shouted, cupping his mouth to make his voice louder. As if there was any need for that. “Almost as good as Eddie’s mom’ bl-“ “Shut up, Richie!”

#reddie #chapter one #all we know #fan fiction #hogwarts au #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #stenbrough #benverly #hogwarts houses #the losers club #losers #los(v)er #it 2017 #it movie 2017 #it stephen king #fanfiction

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punkwhodrinkstea-blog · 6 years ago

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Kinder Egg

Sorry to Americans who don’t have Kinder Eggs due to them being too dangerous of a choking hazard…. Ya that country who has shootings almost every day… but apparently Kinder Eggs are too dangerous. Good call. Anyway I’ve got a question. Is life hard? Or are humans just really bad at it?

Now you’re probably wondering what exactly I mean. How can someone be bad at life. Well I am not asking why everyone can’t do well in school or get jobs to support their life or anything. I mean why are there people who are homeless when there are empty apartments and houses? Why are their people who are starving when there is more than enough food? Why are so many people longing for a meaning in life and desperate for joy? Why do people self sabotage themselves so often.

Honestly folks, every human in this world could have their own perfectly fine cozy apartment with all needs met: food, cooking tools, basic entertainment options, bed, job, (probably even a car), etc if a we all worked together to make sure one another were taken care of. This is sorta the purpose of communism but the reason why communism doesn’t work isn’t because that doesn’t make for a good life, but because people want a better life than others. I mean why did humans have to put up all these systems which really just cripples people? Why do we need to go to school? Pay for car insurance, food and water. I know it sounds crazy to even imagine that we have all created a system in place to make things so much more difficult for people to become independent, (truly) free and even in a sense, Healthy. There is enough resources in our world to easily give everyone a good life and help anyone who hits a speed bump along the way. The problem is that we have to put all these rules, laws and systems in place to keep things fair and we all pay the cost. These things came into play because people don’t want to settle for a good life but they want more and more. Humans would rather hurt others while on a mission to get to the top, to have more money, food, entertainment, stuff, sex, etc. So to help prevent people from hurting one another on their greedy pursuit, we created the society and culture we know today. Isn’t it wonderful?! Anxiety, depression, greed, toxic relationships, misuse of sex and several substances and pain fill our world all because we make it hard on ourselves and one another. It certainly doesn’t help that a number of people don’t deal with their problems very well. I’ve come to learn that many people seem to use one problem to create another and another. So I guess to answer my question, is life hard? Or are humans just really bad at it. I’d have to say, humans are just really bad at it. Growing food, making a building, filtering water, entertainment and so many more things we have mastered and it could all be free if we didn’t abuse it, but we do. Next when life gets rough (or even when it’s going well) some people somehow screw it up by making very irrational choices.

I often think about life back in the middle ages. Back then there was no school, no college, no car (or horse) insurance, no tax on everything you buy. There was only one tax and it was for the land you lived on and that went to the country to help build stuff and maintain stuff. Everyone grew up to learn and master how to become independent and then learned some kind of trade which was then used to give back and provide for others in the community. There were simply so many fewer systems in place that often hold people back and make life more difficult. One of the reasons I love my job is because it’s much like those times. I didn’t go to college and get a grade that deemed how worthy I was of a certain job. No, I learned these skills from just my everyday interests and someone thought I could make a good fit in the trade which I now take part in. Now I simply learn from those before me and try to improve upon what they do. Anyway I think my strange little, useless rant is over. I don’t think I have more to add. But I do have another topic to talk about.

So my girlfriend and I spent the entire weekend together and it was a fairly busy weekend and at the end of a long day we were locked out of her house. So we went for a drive and ended up parked on the edge of quiet road on the outskirts of town. I had a couple Kinder Eggs in the car and there was a nearby walking path. So after a while of just hanging out I insisted on walking down the a path. My girlfriend, despite being tired she agreed to come with me. I grabbed a Kinder Egg and offered her the other which sadly she declined (like come on they taste good). After a very short walk I unwrapped my kinder egg, and ate it. I then offered the surprise toy to be opened by my girlfriend. As she took it I began to walk slower and took a knee. She opened it and found a stainless steel ring. In confusion she says “what the?-” and she turns around to find me, down on one knee….. Yeah I proposed to my girlfriend in a cheap and semi romantic fashion and she said yes. Well technically she just kissed me and I had to ask again just to make sure and then she said yes. But yeah I guess I don’t have a girlfriend anymore, I have a fiance. Hell yeah! I’m engaged to the love of my life!

Welp folks that’s it for the main post. I do want to update that I have not gotten my site published yet. I did not expect to be getting the job that I have and it briefly stalled my progress along with bad allergies/sickness. The site is finished, it just needs the first chapter of my book to be finished editing before I publish it. The First Chapter will act as a demo since my book is indeed the flagship content for my site. Anyway it’s a work in progress and will be done soon, I promise. Peace out ladies and gentlemen.

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duallygirl178 · 4 years ago

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Dearest O'Malley Chapter 12

Chapter 12

It took me 2 months to pull myself back to health and being sad about losing Joe really got me. I didn't want to start working again as soon as I heard about it. I know that small things such as a relationship has came to an end don't upset me. I wasn't upset when Shay stopped hanging out with Nathan but when things like this happen, it takes me a long time to get over it. I too was really close to Joe since I was almost always up there. I know I would mess around with him when I needed something lined up. It would be a very hard, tough summer for me. Night after night, I'd sit under the carport looking sad. Nathan spent over 36 dollars trying to fix me while Natalie urged him not to give up. She went with him to see me. No matter what the problem was, I still missed Joe. Carol was transported to Good Sams to get better and it would be days before she could come home. The only person that could help now was Shannon; Buck's old landlord from Flora Vista. Nathan needed to go get him.

When Shannon came to the rescue one day, I started to feel a bit better. It had been after 5 years since I've seen him. He helped Nathan correct the problem and realigned my points. Then, when I started for him, it brought Nathan great joy. It was all on a Thursday afternoon in September and it was just in time because tomorrow would be my 51st birthday. Nathan took pictures of me t show Natalie. I quickly noticed I had worn off the affects of the nitrous from the college and let go of the pain of being sad. After all, the sun was shining and it was comfortably warm out. I would miss Joe but I will always remember him. When we went to get Natalie that Friday evening from her babysitting job. Natalie was happy to see me running again. Today, was my 51st birthday and we drove to celebrate it at SONIC as my birthday dinner. We ordered hamburgers and had master blasts while listening to all my favorite songs on Natalie's phone. She recorded song over the week all for me. They all took me back in my day when those hit songs were written and sung on the air. I haven't heard songs like "Rip it up" in over 16 years and it really had been a long time since I've heard them all in a drive-in burger joint on a summer night. I was having a nice birthday and I was enjoying it all except for that two friends of mine that were missing to make it even better.

The moment after we got done eating, I started to make my way down the street headed home that night. I suddenly heard someone sing out to me about 4 feet behind me "Good Golly, Miss Molly!" and I wasn't paying any attention until the last minute on who it was. I heard it again. "Good golly, Miss Molly! Sure like a ball!" I looked behind me and it was Gonzo. I laughed and said "Uh-on. Someone come get Gadget-mobile...'Good morning Riverton'!"

It was a very good to see him here tonight. I haven't seen the ol' Saucer in weeks. When he finished laughing, Gonzo replied "Where've you been at the last few weeks?" I told him; "I got sick after I had surgery on my transmission and didn't run for two months." Gonzo gasped in surprise and said "Oh no. That's not good. Well, I hoped that you were able to get better." I agreed and remembered to tell Gonzo something important. I said "And I was able to get well because it's my 51st birthday. I'm an old man." Gonzo replied back "I remembered. Happy birthday, O'Malley. I had a gift for you, but I forgot it at home. Let me make it up to you. Tomorrow, I'll come by with it and give you a cake that I made to celebrate. You'll really like it. I made you a Recess cup ice cake." I smiled and said "You didn't have to do that. It's not a big deal." Gonzo refused and said "No, no. I insist because that's what friends do." I snickered and said "Alright, if you insist." Then Gonzo talked to me a few hours and then, had to get home after he was going to the dollar store. It was almost time for his TV show that he was hooked on. We headed home also with our bellies full of good old American food. When we got home, I got a nice birthday under-carriage rub from Natalie. It was a great present and whatever that Gonzo was going to get me, it was going to be even better. I've been enjoying a lot of those belly rubs from Natalie lately and they got better every time. Once I got a belly rub, they appear to come out like a lasagna in every place. I would get a massage under my chin, belly, sides and hood. I started feeling younger, healthier, and stronger. When Jan got up to wash dishes, the TV was ours to watch after she was done watching her Lifetime channel. I didn't mind, I was enjoying my massage from Natalie. She gave me a chin rub after she rubbed my belly. I wished Gladys could have given me massages, but she never did. I was guaranteed Natalie did a better job than anyone.

The very next day in the afternoon, Gonzo came over to 1025 which was where I lived at. He brought me cake and a gift over and he told me happy birthday even though my birthday was last night. We still celebrated it and ate cake. It was even better than the Village Inn restaurant because when it came to cake, Gonzo made the best. When I opened my gift, it was a fifty dollar gift card to Starbucks. Gonzo wasn't so great at picking gifts but I have been craving Starbucks for a while and since I haven't been to Starbucks in a long time, I was sure to spend it on a latte and a cheese Danish for sure. I smiled and thanked Gonzo. He chuckled delighted and said "Now you can stop by Starbucks and those cheese Danishes and coffee won't be taunting you anymore." I told him "I had a few dreams about hot and doughy pastries like cinnamon rolls, donuts, scones, and Danishes that I wish I could pull right out of my dreams and bask into their sweet gooey sin of freshness. You did a good job of making this recess pie. I tell you what it makes all the cherry pies look shameful." Gonzo thanked me on the compliment and we updated on what we've been doing on each other. Other than me getting sick for almost 2 months, Gonzo's been doing good aside from him getting allergies from the cottonwood trees and getting stuck out in the sun, only to get worse in his condition. It was a good thing I didn't catch allergies coming to think of it while Gonzo talked on and on. I mean, holy flounder-flop, he talked as long as my cousin did.

After that, Gonzo had to head home because it was already 3PM and getting late. He needed to be home for dinner so, he let me have the rest of the cake. Gonzo departed as soon as he pulled out. The next day, I got to celebrate my 51st birthday again with Robin since he always remembered my birthdays. Robin took me out for lunch at DAD'S Diner by the mall. Robin encountered a jukebox, put a quarter in, and played "See you later alligator" by Bill Haley and His Comets which I hadn't heard that song in forever. It was one of my favorite songs. I instantly perked up and hummed along. Just as Robin was headed back to me, he saw me humming along to "See you later alligator" and said "You know, you're 51 years old. You need to loosen up, be cool and release your energy into some of that jive." I looked embarrassed. I haven't danced in a very long time and wasn't sure if I wanted to stand up and dance. I stuttered and said "Robin...I.…...I-I haven't danced in over 20 years. I don't even know if I want to dance in front of all these people." Robin blew raspberry and said "Oh come on. It's your birthday. You only get to be 51 once in your life. It'll be fun." I snickered and was finally into the groove since I loved that song so much, I could listen to it for days. So I got up and said "Okay, only if you dance with me, man. No matter how many people are staring." and Robin agreed. So we danced to the song and even got a kick out of it when the song ended. I had the most fun. Being 51 was great and it was about to get even better. After Dad’s Diner, we went on a little cruise in town. Robin blared the music to "Good Golly, Miss Molly" and we shouted to every classic car that was also out for a drive, parts of the lyrics to Little Richard's song in their faces. We got looks of "What are you talking about" on their eyes and lots of "Whoo hoo!" comments. I was sure having a great time and a great birthday. When the song ended, I was talking to Robin on how much fun I was having and I added "You know Robin, Folks my age should really goof off on special days or on young moments from being 17 years old. This us just...too much!" Robin bursted out laughing and said "I know. It pays for being 51 years old because old folks just want to have fun." Instantly, I thought of an idea and so I told Robin what it was. He laughed and reduced his speed to 10 miles an hour. He and I picked random cars in traffic and cruised by them for a few minutes. Then we would make them fishtail and stop dead in traffic. I sped up to a person with a Farmington High School bumper sticker on his 2008 Nissan Ultama. I got by the driver's side while driving in traffic and waited 20 minutes for the moment at 20 miles an hour and then, made the dude swerve over to the left side and right on the street until his car drove over on a curb. Robin and I bursted out laughing as we left the sucker in the dust. Robin did the same thing as I did. He drove up to a random car in traffic, pulled up, waited for the moment and swerved a little making the car fishtail. We started doing that until we turned down the street to fill up on motor oil. Robin couldn't wipe that smile off his bumper but it would take weeks to wipe the smile away.

The week before Carol came home, I heard some news that Erik had stolen her computer. I couldn't believe it! Stealing! From his own grandmother! It was treacherous. This happened while I wasn't paying attention and how he broke in, was beyond me. Erik might have crawled through a spare room window and got the key to the computer room when I know it was locked. But I do know that Erik had stolen a lot of items from Joe and Carol before and then some at Wal-Mart. He was quite a bad person for a thief. I had this feeling that no one was going to do a thing about it to get it back. I didn't even hear him come in as I was reading Carol's books and relaxing on Joe's chair. I laid the book page-down to go see what else the little thief took with him. I came to the bookcase in the dining room with the antiques on top of it, and checked in the bowl where the computer key was. The key was still in there and so I grabbed the key to unlock the computer door. I opened the door, and saw the computer was gone. Next, I closed the door, locked it, set the key back into the bowl and thought about Joe's bedroom. I hunted all over the room to find what more Erik stole. I remembered Joe kept a pistol by his bedside for emergencies. It was gone too. I looked for the pistol but couldn't find it. I supposed Erik stole that too but I wasn't sure if it was true. I couldn't prove it because I didn't see it nor video record it. There was nothing I could do, so I went back to the living room and enjoyed the rest of the book. It would be up to Jan now to find out about what happened and believe what she saw. I still couldn’t believe Erik did such a horrible thing from his grandma. It was all because he wanted Nathan to buy him an expensive gaming system after Tiny was sold to a new home when Nathan's mother was a big priority than Erik. He threw a fit for a few days and Nathan still wouldn't buy him anything because Erik was disrespectful. Nathan didn't care and he always took care of things with love. Erik didn't deserve it. When Carol got home from Good Sam's that late September, after my birthday, we started to take care of her to help her live well again. She went downhill after several weeks and it was getting tiresome. We knew it was time to call an assisted living care when Carol got too needy because She wanted Jan to stay up at her home and help her. Jan had work and couldn't give her the care she needed. Jan looked at several assisted living agencies and searched for their reasonable prices that only Carol could afford. None of them seemed to help Carol with the chores that needed done, although the nurses did help her change diapers and bathe her. It was time to make drastic measures. Jan called Good Sams and had her transferred to Aztec. The first week that Carol was there, the nurses didn't attend to her and took over an hour to get to her. Carol was going downhill fast and all we could do now was keep visiting her.

That Autumn season, I was having a conversation with Natalie. She was worried about something that Nathan was saying to her. I told her "Nathan always does this. He tried to scare me because I wouldn't start for him. He threatened to sell me to a home, but I outsmarted him. He doesn't start acting on what he says he was going to do." I added that Nathan needed to act more mature by following through on things he was asked to do. Natalie sighed and said "Why does he act that way?" I looked down almost ashamed of myself for telling her that Nathan was trying to win in an argument. I told her "Because he wants you to think you've done something wrong so he can win in the conversation." At that moment, I asked myself quietly 'Was that the best advice I could give?' Was it enough to make Natalie satisfied on how Nathan worked? I didn't feel that it was, but Natalie was very satisfied with the input I gave her. So, Natalie went back in the house and said nothing more...not even what I told her.

A while back, Nathan got a dog after Natalie had to surrender her new cat; Velvet that she got from the Durango animal shelter. What I didn't expect, was to get a pit-bull mix. She was pretty with the black and white but she talked a lot with moos. I knew Nathan wouldn't take care of her nor pay attention to her after a while of getting her. I liked Shyla because she had a different personality, she was full of energy and was funny. She didn't deserve to be left out on a chain on summer nights. She needed a good home with a family that had space and a yard. She needed someone who could walk her. Shyla had ran away a few weeks later but came back 30 minutes later. I remembered that Candy had done that a few times but I've never seen a dog that was so athletic that she could outrun a cheetah in Africa. When Shyla returned, she needed a large amount of discipline. She started walking all over Natalie with no boundaries and making sure Natalie was out of energy. But she didn't stop for Natalie to rest, she wanted to play another round of tug-of-war. Shyla would bring the toy to Natalie while she sat down. Instantly, Natalie got Shyla trying to reach up and grab the toy out of Natalie's clutch when she would jerk it higher than Shyla's reach. I watched her do that too-slow game to Shyla just for my entertainment. Then, I would take a turn to play with Shyla and give Natalie a break. The poor girl had been to the gym for 45 minutes and worked out hard on the treadmill. As I was playing with Shyla, I noticed Shyla had quite a grip. It was like trying to play tug-of-war with an alligator because that dog had a strong, tough grip. About 30 minutes later, Shyla gave up and laid down on the couch. I had finally exhausted Shyla in a game of tug-of-war. I had imagined I had more energy than Shyla. I put the toy on the table and had a seat next to Natalie and said "And that's how you exhaust a dog with tons of energy. I told you I could tire her out like that. Natalie gave me this tired but I'm-quietly-proud-of-you look on her face. I chuckled quickly. I had out-powered Shyla good enough.

That evening as we went into town, we stopped at the gas station to get me fed with gasoline. Our next stop was going to be Wal-mart because Jan needed to buy BOOST drinks while she's pn the run for the weekdays. Natalie was talking about treating Nathan to some new shirts to wear for the week. After I ate my gasoline meal, we pulled into the busy parking lot to Wal-mart. I prepared to wait 45 minutes for them to go shopping. I found out I had to wait only 30 minutes because I saw them coming out with a cart of groceries. Natalie and Nathan were loading the groceries into the trunk while Jan was let in to sit down. She was tired. It felt heavy from all those groceries weighing my balls to the ground. But it turned out, it didn't weigh me down. I was able to get it home with no problem. When we got home after Wal-mart, Natalie grabbed about 15 bags of groceries out of the trunk. Nathan told her and kept telling her to bring in 5 bags at a time. She didn't listen and kept bringing in all the groceries she could handle. After bringing in the groceries, I got a few side rubs from Natalie while Nathan tried on his new shirt. It was a black DEADPOOL Shirt that said "I have Issues" which matched Nathan so well. Recently, Nathan bought the movie "Deadpool" from Safeway and he just loved it. I've seen it once and thought it was pretty raunchy for me, but good for one time. There was a part in the movie where it reminded me of Impa and what he would say. Impa has had that personality that Deadpool had in his eyes. He said the same crude things Deadpool used once. Gonzo and I were even shocked that Impa would say such things but all that was 40 years ago. I didn't remember why Impa said that or who it was to. But besides my point, Nathan and Natalie would watch that movie over and over on occasional nights.

That very next day, Nathan was wearing his new Deadpool shirt. Natalie bought him another one that was white too but she didn't know why he wasn't wearing it. I wouldn't get to see the white shirt on him to know how Nathan liked it. Natalie had asked him "Why aren't you wearing your Beavis and Butt-head shirt?" Frankly, Nathan responded to her "It's hard for me to keep whites clean. Every time I wear them, they get stained." I looked at Natalie and remembered the last few white shirts that Nathan had were stained with something impossible to get out. Natalie told him "Well, if you aren't going to wear it, then I might as well wear it myself." Nathan chuckled as if he didn't mind. Natalie enjoyed wearing T-shirts better than those mule-twisted tees that were for sixth graders...not that I've ever seen or had a problem with her wearing them. I liked her in whatever she had in her closet; pants with a large tee, shorts with a t-shirt...whatever she owned.

A few weeks later, I noticed it was almost time for the Brookside park to have its annual car show. I had to look spiffy and clean for the judges to see. Natalie was already getting a hop on it. She vacuumed my interior out and did everything to get me ready. She worked hard to get the dirt out and the ashes that were in my ash tray from when Jan emptied her ciggs. After a few "Ows" and a lot of "Take it easy. you're hurting me" cries, Natalie was done vacuuming the interior.

A day before the car show, Natalie gave me a bath and scrubbed me down with soap herself. I had to say, it was the best bath I ever gotten. She wore shorts that she sewed together out of her old pants and wore a long t-shirt. I got a little excited and said "Now all you need to be wearing is a shorty-short shirt with a bikini bottom and you'll be all set." I chuckled after I just imagined Catherine Bach's body with Natalie's face on it. Natalie gave me a strange but silly eyes and said "Oh sure, yeah right." She was more confidently happy about her figure than most husky girls. Natalie was my kind of girl with that-girl-as-good-as-she-looks personality. It was like a whole new spunk for me.

Natalie was very thorough when she scrubbed. It felt good as she scrubbed my hubcaps and tires hard. It was like getting a finger massage in hot coconut oil. She gave me a better bath than Nathan and it wasn't normal for Nathan to allow other people to wash any of us three cars. I hated the part where I was sprayed down with a high pressure of water. Now as for the washing part, Natalie loved to use a sponge with soap on it. Next time, if I wanted a bath, I wanted Natalie to do it from now on. That night, Sonic was having a classic car party because it was registration night. I got nervous I wasn't going to be able to park next to Robin this year. I remembered there was a time when I didn't get to do that. I've been parked and seated next to strangers that were terrible. I was used to being close to Robin and I didn't do so hot with strangers. In 2015 of summer, I almost had a fight with an Oldsmobile and I didn't want to go through that again.

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packsbeforesnacks · 5 years ago

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Zip Zap Zop || Blanche & Winn

TIMING: Friday, October 11th, 2019, Midday LOCATION: UMWC PARTIES: @harlowhaunted & @packsbeforesnacks SUMMARY: Winn makes his first friend (?) in White Crest. Oh God, Blanche has AirPods in. She can’t hear us! WARNINGS: None.

“—don’t think you can ignore me young lady! Blanche! I am speaking to you!” Blanche guessed that ignoring the ghost of her great-grandmother was probably some cardinal sin or something, but she was going on and on about things that just didn’t matter. Like her class load for the semester or how she was still an accounting major or how the boots she was wearing wasn’t appropriate for October (for some reason). Blanche was not going to get caught speaking to a ghost today. Everyone already thought she talked to herself, and she wasn’t really in the mood to pull an excuse out of her ass. She just wanted to go to class, take her test, and go home so she could nap before going to the night shift at Mooseventures. She was unwinding her headphones as she sped-walked through campus. “Blanche! Don’t you dare!” Oh, she dared. She shoved her earbuds in her ear and immediately blasted the first song she could find on her Spotify. Looked like Billie Ellish was what she was going with. Of course, she could still see Granny, and had to sidestep her a few times to ignore the unpleasant bone-chilling sensation she would get if she walked through a ghost. Sure, it looked a little ridiculous, like she was constantly trying to walk on something very specific, but she didn’t give a shit because she was just focused on four things. Class, test, home, nap. Class, test, home, nap. Class, test, home, nap. Class, test, home, nap.

Fridays had always been Winn’s favorite part of the school week, especially once he’d gotten to college. Drinking on Thursday nights with his packmates and waking up with nothing to do other than plan a party or a prowl had been a highlight of his years as an upperclassmen. Graduate school, Winn was finding, had a much more regular rhythm to it. He could manage to get his schedule to end early enough — there was no chance of him going furry in the middle of an Abnormal Psych lecture — but he and his attention span were doomed to fight through Friday classes. That struggle was all the worse this close to a Full Moon, when the wolf wanted nothing more than to tear Professor Rafferty limb from limb for no reason other than Rafferty looking like a snack — and not the sexy kind. But sweet freedom was in his clutches now, as he jogged towards the parking lot. Winn was getting some strange looks from undergrads for his mid-October clothing choices. Most of them had retreated into at least a loose jacket, some into sweaters. Winn had enough body heat running through him from his other half, thanks, and would wear a tanktop until the moment the odd looks turned into thinly-veiled suspicion. Winn had somewhat of a reputation, back home anyway, for his allergy to covering his arms or legs. He’d only recently switched into tanks and jean shorts, evolving from the crop tops and athletic shorts that were often still too hot for him in Virginia summers. Maine was cooler, sure, but not by that much. Winn stopped to stretch his calf out on the edge of a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. But as he leaned down, he noticed two things in rapid succession: first, that a blonde girl had just wandered past him and into the crosswalk and, second, that a university bus was coming fast down the street. Shit.

That was the thing about university buses. Did they care about speed limits? No. Did they care about students? No. In fact, more often than not, students could be seen hauling ass after one that had just closed its doors on them. Blanche had been there once or twice before she just gave up. Her car was easier, or even her bike when her car decided it was too good to work. Blanche was determined to ignore Granny and just stay listening to her music in peace. Except, as she sidestepped a guy (who had to be cold from how he was dressed. Then again, she shouldn't judge him, the bitter cold hadn't sunk into Maine yet. But, as Game of Thrones was fond of saying, winter was coming), Blanche had managed to wander right out into the middle of the road when it wasn’t her turn to walk. This hadn't been the first time something like this had happened. Usually it was for the same reason: trying to get the hell away from ghosts. She was lucky she hadn’t been hit yet. Blanche, though, had never walked in front of a bus. Granny’s screech of warning caused her phone to go on the fritz, and just as she looked up to start yelling, she saw the bus. Not only was there not enough time to move anyway, she was rooted to the spot. Frozen, like a deer in the headlights. At least I won't have to take my test or go to work, her mind cruelly supplied. “Oh fu—”

This was why he had to let the wolf out more often, actually! The proximity to the full moon was causing him to be sloppy and adventurous. Normally, he could work off the excess energy in the woods, but he’d been so, so busy. So, when Winn saw a person in danger, he leapt to action. Later, he would say he knew it must’ve looked strange, from the outside, when he bent the rest of the way down and ran at the girl on all fours, but, as he’d argue, he was already so close to the ground and he was faster on his hands and feet — his paws — than he’d ever be on two legs. In the time it would take him to bend back up and bolt into the street, the girl would lose precious time. ‘Course, he wasn’t much thinking about this at the time, his brain mostly concerned with blaring “DANGER” since he was, pretty much, a dog running into traffic and the wolf howling “GO, GO, GO!” in the back of his mind. Unlike when he was in his wolf form, though, a hit from a bus could do a lot of damage to his objectively nice bod. Fortunately for him and the girl both, the bus was fast, but Winn was faster — thank goodness for speed limits and relatively self-aware drivers. He grabbed the girl, tucking her smaller form under one of his arms, and shoved his body through the crosswalk. They landed with a thud on the edge of the sidewalk, a bit bruised but alive. Nothing in his life could be so easy, though. Winn sprang to his feet, too fast and without letting go of the girl under his arm... and almost immediately, Winn and the girl were tumbling together through, somehow, a window. Now, how’d that get there?

Blanche was pretty sure she blacked out sometime between Granny going absolutely batshit and the fuckboy running into her at a million miles an hour. She came back just as her and the fuckboy hit the curb. Ouch. Well, she wasn’t dead, so that had to be the bright side here. Except, she still didn’t really know what was happening. Granny was still losing her fucking mind. That was the problem with seeing and hearing ghosts that no one else could. Too frequently, they kept talking to her, and it was too hard to focus on the people who were among the living. It was overwhelming. Blanche coughed slightly, a tad winded, before they were moving again. Fuckboy — she should stop calling him that, he just saved her life — hadn’t released his hold on her, and to be honest, she was kind of holding on for dear life. The window was a surprise, because, really, why the hell was there a fucking window in the middle of campus. There wasn’t even a building attached to it. They tumbled and landed on the ground again, and this time Blanche hurriedly let go before any other harm could come to them. Well, maybe harm was a little strong, because for going through a window, she was feeling pretty alright. Blanche carefully scrambled to her knees to see a crowd of shocked students wearing all black staring at them, and realized almost instantly that they just dove straight through the theatre majors’ set piece. Blanche, a little dazed from the adrenaline, looked at Fuckboy. “Your shirt’s broken—” Blanche said, eyes wide as she started to stand. Bad move, bad move, super duper bad move. Her head connected what felt like concrete and she dropped like a sack of potatoes back to the ground.

There was nothing like flying through a window to bring some real perspective on things. For one, that Winn should maybe wear sturdier tanks to class. The one he’d had on was shredded — just, completely torn to bits. A piece of fabric hung from one of his nipple rings and, while Winn had very little shame, it was pretty embarrassing. It looked more like the world’s worst party streamer or, eesh, tassels? Tacky. He ignored the wolf-whistles (ha) from a few of the folks whose window Winn had just busted as the blonde scrambled away from him. Her clothes were fine, though they looked frankly suffocating. He heard her say something as he pulled himself up off of the ground, but his senses were finally coming back into their typical resting place and, well, he was admittedly distracted. With dim shock covering his heightened perception just enough, he didn’t notice the girl picking herself up off the ground until she connected with his head. Winn barely felt it, though from the way that the girl dropped back to the ground, he supposed she had to feel it. Huh. Guess what his ma had always said about him having a hard head was true. He crouched back down, ignoring the fairly indignant rumbling from the people dressed in black surrounding him and the girl. He looked at the glass surrounding them, finally realizing that the “window” had been something more fake. Winn had busted through actual glass before and, well, his shirt wouldn’t have been the only victim if they’d tumbled through real glass. That was a mark in his favor, but, well. The girl was definitely going to hate him. He’d shoved her through a window! Dumbass. Dumb wolf, dumb man. Dumb wolfman. Sighing, he reached out his hand, “Uh, sorry… about that. Are you okay? I was trying to get you out of the way, but think I might’ve done more harm than good…”

Maybe if she just laid there, they would leave her there to perish due to the forces of nature. Now, she had a headache, but all things considered, at least she hadn’t been squashed by a bus. Blanche opened an eye, before letting out a low groan as the Fuckboy said something to her. He looked ridiculous. How the hell did that happen to his shirt, there had to be, like, physics against that. “I’m okay,” she said, reaching out to grab his hand and pull herself up. This time, she was carefully avoiding smashing heads with anyone else, much less concrete head over here. “I wasn’t paying attention. I’d rather go through a thing of stage glass than get hit by a bus, honestly, so thanks for that.” She rubbed her head, before fully examining the contents around her and the disgruntled theatre majors. “Um,” Blanche lowered her voice to a whisper, wincing slightly. “I don’t think they’re too happy about the window, though…”

Winn whistled lowly at the destruction. “Yeah, uh, sorry folks. We didn’t mean to break your window. Honest. Just, er, an unfortunate accident. I’m Winn, by the way.” He wasn’t sure whether he was saying that to them, or to the girl he’d tackled near halfway across campus. Was it a bad idea to let them know his name? He could run away, but then Shorty would be straddled with the clean-up, or retribution, or whatever theatre majors could actually do. Method act at him? Winn hadn’t been a bully or anything in high school (he didn’t hang with bullies either, so he didn’t know how to shove people in lockers), but he was sure he could rumble with a few (honestly, kinda scrawny) undergrads dressed in black. As he was contemplating this, a put-upon looking older woman ran a hand down her face, bags under her eyes. She sighed deeply, but before she could say anything, Winn interrupted: “We could, I don’t know, do something for y’all? Quip bro quo, or whatever? We, um…” He licked his lips, panicking, and looked to the girl standing next to him. One hand raised and covering his lips moving, he stage-whispered (ha), “Do you have any ideas?”

This could not be happening. Blanche looked warily between Winn and the angry theatre majors. How was this her fault, exactly? She was considering just backing up and running away, and leaving Mr. Nipple Tassel to deal with it himself. As if Granny could sense what she was thinking, she hissed in her ear: “You were the idiot that walked in front of a bus. Take responsibility for your actions!” Sure. Okay. But did Winn, as she learned his name was, have to jump through a window while still holding on to her? Blanche’s gaze snapped from the tired woman who could only be the drama director when Winn offered up a Quip Bro Quo. Oh god, he was an idiot. And then he turned to her and asked if she had any bright ideas. “Uh—” Oh. She sure didn’t. Blanche grimaced, and looked between everyone. “Um. Well. Hi. I’m Blanche.” Well, that was stupid, now they knew her name. Fuck. The woman was giving her a withering stare. “We could… offer labor?” Blanche said, weakly. She glanced up at Winn. “I don’t know, paint sets? Or something?”

The woman was still glaring at the both of them. “Or something,” she confirmed.

#wickedswriting #para #Blanche #Zip Zap Zop

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