#it's typically for bombshell and dinner at eight

[cantsayidont]

September 1932. BLESSED EVENT — directed by Roy Del Ruth and obviously inspired by real-life newspaper columnist Walter Winchell — is a screamingly funny pre-Code comedy featuring Lee Tracy at his cynical, frenetic best as Alvin Roberts, a Winchell-like gossip columnist who finds his niche with scandalous birth announcements of the "married late this summer, anticipate a blessed event in October" variety, captivating and outraging half of New York and making Roberts a celebrity. Naturally, this also makes him many enemies, from Bunny Harmon (a young Dick Powell), an unctuous radio crooner Roberts loathes (and vice versa), to gangster Sam Gobel (Edwin Maxwell), who sends a tough Chicago hood named Frankie Wells (Allen Jenkins) to rub Roberts out. In the film's most memorable scene, Frankie is scared straight by Roberts' vividly horrific description of being put to death in the electric chair, a spiel Tracy delivers at a breathless, rapid-fire pace that would make even a vintage Robin Williams standup routine seem comparatively sedate. BLESSED EVENT also has a great supporting role for regular Warner Bros. character player Ruth Donnelly as Roberts' long-suffering secretary. ("You want to see Mr. Roberts? Oh, you want to sue Mr. Roberts. The line forms on the left.")

[spiltscribbles]

Prompt: Pro Athlete Sirius because that my and Remus' kink

~Notes: OMFG VICTOrIA!!!! I FUCKING SCREECHED!!!! lkadfjlaksdgjoiaejfalskdgjioeugisfkldshg Yes tis my kink as well!!! And then I saw this from Nonny and worlds collided and BOOM! I hope you like this my love<3<3 You incredibly talented sugarplum!!! TBH I want to write a thousand more things in this AU XD

.-

FROM THIS LIST  |  Send Me A Prompt!💜 | A REBLOG MEANS THE GALAXY!!💜

.-

When Remus was young— surrounded by the light breeze of the Welsh coast and the harmony of birds chirping in the distance— he would follow his mother to their small garden behind their cottage  at the cusp of twilight as his father cooked their supper, and he’d watch as she laid flat all sorts of newspapers written in French and Arabic and English, watch as she brought her red pen against the ink and marked the articles with underlines and shorthand he wouldn’t understand for years still.

He asked her once, when he was barely eight years old, why she bothered to keep up with so many different publications, why she read the same story penned by countless perspectives when all the facts stayed the same at the end of the day. And he remembers how she had let out a quick, shrill of a laugh, tossing back her golden head while sucking in a puff from the bubbling hookah she had set up besides her— a habit she acquired from her Algerian, refugee parents, and one that became synonymous to those late nights in Remus’s eyes.

“Facts can be wielded to someone’s personal vendettas, Remus John,” she had crooned in that adoring way of hers whenever she spoke to him— honey eyes that were the same color and shape to Remus’s own flashing alight and their matching smiles going crooked in her stunningly beautiful face. 

“Oh.” Remus had replied, still confused as all get out but was perfectly fine with just holding his small vigil, watching her beneath moonlight and the soft glow of their outdoors lamps, as he listened to the shuffling of papers while she commenced this odd quirk. 

It’s a decade and a half later—  as his editor for the Phoenix, a small, but bustling online editorial that plans on dethroning the likes of Politico and Vox in only a matter of years, scans his latest findings on the corrupt boosters linked to MP Avery from Leeds— when Remus thinks he suddenly understands what his mother, with her keen eyes and pixelated air, had meant by facts in how they can be colored differently simply by the words surrounding them. And he wonders if one day soon, one of his bylines will join her little stack of stories, if she’ll be proud of him even if she says as much even now, when he’s a lost twenty-something stumbling through life in the capitol and barely making it as is, between his actual job and the gig he has at the coffee shop nearest his dingy flat he shares with three other blokes.

“Mmm, this is good, Lupin,” Dorcas declares after what feels like an eon, dropping her long, dark legs from where they were lounging leisurely on her desk and scuffs out her cigarette in a pretty, glass ashtray. “Send it over to Flores to look into deeper, maybe it’ll corroborate the info she’s already gotten from her sources.”

Remus feels himself bristle, hopes that it doesn’t show, that his face stays passive as he contends, “I think I should at least help her write the expose, I’m the one who got this bombshell.”

“That’s not how it works, sweets,” Dorcas toots, tossing back her dark head of curls as she rises, perching on the corner of her desk delicately and looking down, straight into his gaze. “I know it’s frustrating, but you’re fresh blood. barely six months here, but Alice has been with us for years. This is her baby, and we’re just here to nurture it.”

“So I’ll have to wait another ten months, at least,  to get the same treatment?” He argues in an admittedly petulant way, making Dorcas laugh endearingly, and Remus is suddenly,  searingly reminded of his age, and how he’s the youngest staffer that this London based news outlet has on hand. 

“C’mon, love, it won’t be that long for someone as sharp as you, just be patient, and don’t try to pull a Zoe Barnes on us, yeah? You’re far too pretty to clean up on the rails of  the tube.” Dorcas tousles a hand into his dark tawny curls, and Remus holds back the roll to his eyes that he feels willing up inside of him as he stands fully.

“Thanks Cas.”

She smiles beatifically, and throws him a wink. “You’re joining Emmy for the report tomorrow on those United footballers and their fundraiser for the hospital, yeah?”

“Bright and early,” Remus replies, still feels a bit miffed that he was chosen to write up the charity function, considering he doesn’t know a lick about football and doesn’t really get on with anyone who does. But Caradoc— their typical sports reporter— is out sick with the flew, so it’s on him. “I’ll have it on your desk early enough so it’ll be published by tea time.”

“Good man,” Dorcas says in thanks, picking up her crowing cellphone before waving him off.

Remus isn’t all that surprised when he strides out of the office only to find Benjy Fenwick sitting against the opposite wall, knees pressed to his chest and quickly scrambling up when he catches sight of Remus. Sometimes it’s impossible to believe that the bespectacled man in front of him is one of the top editors for the Phoenix, that he’s a regular corespondent for places like the BBC or CNN— that his rebukes against the piss poor inquiries waged during PMQs have become more anticipated than the sessions themselves. Remus tends to forget all of that when he sees him like this, messy haired and wearing a graphic T-shirt with some marvel superhero embossed on the front. “Wotcher Remus.”

“Hiya Remus says, smiling softly and rocking back on his heels. “You wanted to talk to the sergeant then?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no. I didn’t want to talk to Dorcas, I just— Erm, I know you were showing her that stuff you got from that intern, Pettigrew, and i know you were chafed about not getting any opportunity here so—“ He trails off, scratching the back of his head and studying a point over Remus’s shoulder, and it’s all too endearing, and Remus is so beyond thankful he’s made such a good friend here.

“No cigar,” he says in answer to the unspoken question, shrugging noncommittally even if he feels like shit over it.

Benjy nods, face contrite in a way that tells Remus he never thought it would’ve went otherwise. “I’m sorry, that’s bollocks.”

“’S whatever,” Remus shrugs off the apology, begins walking down the hall and straightening his report to hand over to Alice. 

“Ah,, erm. We can get a drink, yeah? In commiseration,” Benjy offers, and Remus stilts only for a beat before continuing the twisting trail to where Alice is set up with the more senior members on staff. And he feels only sorta bad about wanting to refuse. He knows that if he says yes, it’ll mean something different to Benjy than it does him, that he’ll probably take it as Remus finally giving into his pestering and deciding to actually go out with him, even if he’s refuted the other four times he’s asked as much. Remus’s simply just too busy trying to get a footing in this city, and trying to figure out where he’s suppose to go from here, and what he’s suppose to do. And yes, Benjy is cute— a complete Seth Cohen archetype. And he’s sweet and smart and funny enough. But Remus is really not in the mood for doing the whole flowers and wine and candle lit dinners shtick, had gotten enough of that while still with his university boyfriend. And yeah, he’s only just turned 24, but he already feels too old and too jaded for that sort of puppy love— even if Benjy’s got a good decade and some change on him.

Probably sensing his hesitation, Benjy is quick to rectify the offer. “I’ll ask Mary, and Fabian too, and a few others. We can make a night of it, just some drinks on a Friday after work.”

Stalling by the last turn to Alice’s desk, Remus looks at him from over his shoulder, and sort of hates himself for being such a soft hearted fuck sometimes. “Yeah Benj, sounds nice. Just let me know on the group chat, yeah?”

Benjy grins, much more genuine than his awkward quirk of the lips from earlier. “Yeah, good call, I’ll let the others know pronto.”

“Aces,” Remus says, tosses him a obligatory thumbs-up before finding an expectant looking Alice who’s tapping her foot impatiently.

Yeah, today is so bloody shit.

.-

Surprisingly, the round of drinks turns to another and then a third and fourth and Remus is currently nursing his fifth mango margarita on Benjy’s tab, and he actually feels lighter than he has since taking the job at Phoenix, feels bright and bubbling and like absolutely nothing could be wrong as long as he’s got this drink in his grasp and he’s sitting with the handful of reporters and photographers from the office that don’t all have sticks up their asses. It’s fun, it’s good. So obviously it couldn’t have lasted.

Mary is currently cackling about her Uber driver from last night who asked her all sorts of well meaning, but incredibly dense questions about her hijab— a freshly poured glass of coke in one hand, while the other is tangled into her girlfriend Emmy’s. And From his left Remus can hear Fabian ribbing Frank on his crush on Alice, while Benjy scoots intermittently closer as they watch Kingsley and Marlene sparring over something to do with a Kardashian or TikTok trend or whatever the fuck else— The guy has resilience, Remus has to give Benjy that.

“Right, who’s buying next?” Marlene asks, abrasive as ever while scrolling through her phone, ostensively finding something to prove her point against the managing editor.

“Reckon it’s my turn,” Benjy crows, standing up smoothly and glancing down at Remus with a nervous sort of half grin.

“Just a water for me, ta. I need to sober up,” Remus tells him, feels proud that he didn’t even slur slightly. Benjy bobs his head understandingly, and Remus turns to ask Marlene about her latest tinder hookup which always is a good laugh, but then he catches on it. On the sound of the pub’s doors flinging open, followed by a raucous crowd of athletic looking guys probably only a bit older than he is, clambering indoors. 

They’re all so very sixth-form, broad grins and slapping each other’s shoulders with jeers, topped off with loud, bark like laughter that makes it obvious to Remus that these wankers think that they’re some sort of group of gods amongst men, roaming around like everyone should fall to their feet and offer everything they have. It makes Remus roll his eyes so far back that it feels like he might’ve sprained them. They just give off this exhausting aura that reminds him of a past boyfriend in tenth year who was on the footie team and who’s favorite activity was either making Remus feel lucky enough to go out with someone so popular, or dragging him around like some sort of bloody trophy.

To put it nicely, Remus sorta hates them on sight. So when he sees one of the tossers— regrettably the brightest of the lot who’s all pearly teeth, and glittering eyes and incredibly impressive shoulders that tape off to a narrow waste in an objectively infuriating matter— swivels up to the barkeep and jostles Benjy on his way, well Remus doesn’t hesitate to dart forwards to tell him off.

“Oi, watch where you’re going, yeah?”

Benjy and the bloke who looks like he might moonlight as a model for Calvin briefs for when he’s not lounging in a yacht off the Tuscany coast, both turn to him at the same time. Benjy looking abashed, and the aforementioned tosser preening like the cat who’s just caught a canary.

“Sorry, love. Didn’t see you there,” he says in a delightfully deep tenner, giving Remus an appreciative once over, and Remus absolutely despises how the action makes him feel both thrilled and irritated. “Trust and believe, I wouldn’t have looked away if I saw you.”

“Not me, arse.” Remus spits back, refuses to pay any credence to how his cheeks have begun to flush. “You bumped into my mate right there, the one with the tray of loggers.”

The tosser darts his almost molten gray eyes over to Benjy for a sparing second before he laser focusses back onto Remus, the most phony expression of contrition all over his face. “Sorry to your friend,” he says the descriptor like a joke that no one else is in on. “Let me buy you a drink in sorry for the one I made slim here spill.”

Remus is officially unimpressed, hopes that his flat tone gets it across. “You’re an arse.”

“You’re mouthy,” he retorts, looks like it’s something he greatly appreciates— delights over even. 

“Ah, ’s fine Remus, really. I’ll just bring these back and get us a new glass.”

“Listen to slim, Remus, he’s got the right idea.” The tosser hurriedly interjects, strutting close enough to him that he makes it so Remus has to tip his head back just slightly so not to drop his gaze. “I’m Black, Sirius Black, just to get the pleasantries out of the way.” His leer tells Remus that the name should probably evoke some response of aw into Remus, but all it does is make him sound so egregiously pretentious that Remus wants to smack his own bloody head against a dry wall and stay in the hole until this ruddy Sirius bloke leaves him the hell alone.

“Good for you,” he says instead of all of that, and spots Sirius’s friends from behind Sirius chuckling and elbowing one another. Evidently this is a line the tosser uses frequently, and Remus is pleased that he might be one of the first who aren’t at all impressed by the grandiose way he introduced himself.

“Hah, you know I’m use to the pretty ones playing hard to get, but I’m really feeling here that you’re not exactly liking my company, love.”

Remus sucks in a frustrated breath through his nose, shouldering past Sirius and taking the tray of drinks from Benjy before storming back to their table where the others have begun openly gawping at the scene— Marlene outright squawking with Fabian just as Remus takes his seat.

“Don’t,” Remus warns them all as he silently says fuck off to the water and instead gargles down one of the loggers. And if he has to steadfastly not turn around for the rest of the night towards where he can feel Sirius’s gaze burning into his back— well then so be it.

.-

The next morning, Remus has to puke twice into the toilet, and gulps down three aspirins just to stave off his bloody hangover from the night before where he decided that getting properly sloshed would prove as a good technique to not end up making out with Sirius in some dark corner— or regrettably the backseat of his car. And if he does still remember flashes of ranting to him about how insufferable preppy, rich boys actually are while Sirius gazed at him endeared— well Remus just decides to purge it out along with the stomach acid. It’s not like he’ll ever see the douche again.

.-

He meets Arthur— one of the accountants who also helps out by taking photos for more low key news stories— outside the hospital where the conference will be taking place with the Manchester United team. There was a scrimmage that they all played with some of the kids in the cancer ward that occurred at around eight in the ruddy morning, but thankfully Remus didn’t have to show up until an hour later when the team presented their big shiny check, to the big, shiny hospital. 

However, Arthur has been here for hours, so he’s beyond chirpy and looks like he’s downed three cups of espresso as he chatters on about his son Percy starting secondary school, and his eldest, Bill, getting an award for his reading prowess, and all the strange craving his wife has been having throughout her pregnancy with the twins they’re expecting any week now. And Remus loves Arthur, he does— one of the sweetest folks he’s ever met— but God, his head is still thrumming from those misguided tequila shots and he really just wants to get his three quotes, and write up the story so he can find refuge back in his sheets.

While Arthur has moved to talking about his wife, Molly’s, plans to open up a daycare in their refurnished garage, Remus scans his eyes over the familiar face of reporters from other outlets who look just as bored as him, and then to the stage where a woman in a sharply pressed suit is ushering for the group of football stars to join her, so that the conference can finally fucking begin. 

And Remus thinks that their faces are sorta familiar, probably from all the publicity they get on the telly— but then he freezes as he stops at one of them with dark brown skin, and thick rimmed spectacles— and he suddenly can hear him chatting about his redheaded girlfriend and drunkenly declaring that she’ll be the mother of his children some day soon. So he completely expects it when his stomach drops as he moves his glance just a bit to the right, being struck by pearly teeth, and glittering eyes and incredibly impressive shoulders that tape off to a narrow waste, made all the more infuriating by the tight kit he’s got on and the blazing number twelve splayed against his chest.

And fuck.

Remus runs through about a dozen scenarios in which he can make a discrete, or not so discrete exit before he notices him, but in tandem to his spiraling thoughts, the wanker actually looks forwards, and like a creepy metal detector, his quick silver gaze pinpoints onto Remus.

They stare at one another for a beat before his smirk goes wolfish, and he runs a hand through his artfully tousled hair in a way that practically screams, fancy meeting you here. And holy fuck he looks so mouth watteringly attractive with that faint film of sweat running down his neck, and how his smile pulls slightly more to the left, and how he’s looking at Remus like he’s his birthday and Christmas presents all rolled into one.

Remus suddenly hates everything— but most of all hates Sirius, and how bloody fit he is.

“Oh, you’re a fan then?” 

Starting, Remus shifts around slightly so that he’s facing Arthur completely. “Pardon?”

“Sirius Black I mean, you’re a fan?” Arthur asks in that abrasively congenial and intensely scrutinizing way that he treats everything. “I mean he’s a great player, but I know you don’t really watch. So I bet it’s all that charity work he does, yeah?”

“Charity work?” Remus echos, feeling like a floundering fish.

“Truly some amazing stuff.” Arthur pontificates, rubbing a hand against his jaw as he tips his head back. “I mean obviously I’m partial to the fundraising for Reporters Without Borders, but of course the things he does with the more impoverished kids is great. And I know Molly likes his very outspoken posts about being anti war and his annual live streams to earn money for refugees in those war torn nations, like the last one he did for Syria?”

“Oh—“ Remus says, feeling like his head is being overrun by a fountain of new information.

“Yes well, you don’t usually see athletes get into the thick of it with political issues, but I reckon he never really minded. I mean the fact he’s the first football star from United to have come out without any fanfare really proved that. Oh, I think they’re starting, I should probably get some photos before Dorcas gives me a tongue lashing.”

And as quick as the flash of his camera’s lends, Arthur is using his considerable height to get to a more advantageous spot towards the front, and leaves Remus in the dust, as if he hasn’t just obliterated his every assumption of Sirius from after that initial meeting.

And unbidden, the words his mother had told him so many years ago, about facts and how they can color a situation just simply based off the person who’s speaking them— flood to the forefront of his mind.

“Fucking hell,” Remus mutters lowly, gets jostled by Greengrass, a hawkish reporter from a rivaling publication who always has on the most wickedly sharp acrylic nails, and perfectly quaffed curls— as she waves around her certification to speak her inquiry.

“My question is for Potter,” she announces when the woman leading the event, McGonagall, points her way. “And I was wondering how early you boys have to rise for training during the season? And how intense the sessions are that Coach Hooch puts you guys through?”

Potter, the one with the redheaded girlfriend that Remus heard so much about last night between his ranting at Sirius, parts his lips, but it’s not his voice that ends up reverberating through the outdoors space. Instead, it’s Sirius, who’s shouldering him with a goading air, obviously expecting his comment to have only ended up in Potter’s ear and not caught by the mike.

“I wonder if Lupin will let me wake up with’m so he can let me get some real training done before practices, eh?”

And just as soon as his words pitter off, the entire crowd drops to a hush— quiet enough so that they could probably hear it if a pen dropped. 

Sirius’s handsome face— strong jawline, and broad but sharp cheekbones, and a long, narrow nose— goes suddenly ashen, and he flashes over to Remus as if he’s terrified that he’ll bite his face off.

God, what an idiot.

With a long suffering sigh, Remus plucks out the microphone from a slack faced Greengrass’s hand. “We can discuss the regimen afterwards, Black. Just meet me by the front doors and let your mate answer the bloody question.”

Everyone around them falls into laughter that’s caught between uncomfortable chuckles and amazingly amused cackling, but the only person Remus is paying any mind is Sirius, and how he seems to have gone absolutely incandescent, nodding electrically before miming the zip of his lips and gesturing for Potter to carry on.

Jesus help him, Remus has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.

.-

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist

~Buy Me A Coffee 

[theblogchelor]

The Bachelor Week Five And a Half aka On Wednesdays Mykenna Wears Pink

Here’s What Happened Wednesday

Peter aspires to his furthest feat of self-sabotage yet, watching his options dwindle and his contractual marriage proposal approach.

He gets to show off his Spanish, though, so at least he’s a bilingual shell of a former man.

Let’s dive in.

The First One-On-One

Peter and Hannah Anna take on Santiago, invading the personal space of several street performers and eating authentic Chilean street hotdogs. Hannah Anna reveals to Peter that she’s never been in love before, which is actually pretty typical for her type. She also doesn’t experience empathy or compassion and likely grew up skinning neighborhood cats. At least she’s pretty.

When Peter has a crisis of conscience at dinner, Hannah Anna turns on the waterworks and tells Peter she’s starting to fall in love with him. They kiss outside on the terrace, her eyes open the whole time.

Hannah Anna gets the rose.

The First Group Date

For their Chilean group date, Peter and his harem are cast in a telenovela. Mouth-to-mouth time is prioritized over plot in this telenovela, as is availability of costumes prioritized over consistent degree of sexiness. With cameras rolling, Peter (Pedro) systematically frenches Kelsey the bombshell, Tammy the scorned lover, Sydney the Blink-182 nurse, Mykenna the hot sad maid, and Kelley his grandmother.

Later, at Booze Date, Peter finds himself admitting to Victoria P that he’s not quite as interested in her as he had been in the beginning of the season when his standards were higher. Sensing the imminent humiliation of a Rose Ceremony cut, Victoria P self-eliminates and denies the urge to knee Peter in the testicles as she climbs into the go-home car.

Elsewhere, Mykenna screams as Tammy that she is mature enough for a long-term commitment while dressed in Barbie’s Dream Jumpsuit.

The Second One-On-One

The Chilean countryside is the ideal location for Peter and Victoria F’s deeply spicy date of limboing under horses and waving tissues around in a bull-fighting ring. In the afternoon, they play out their Oregon Trail fantasies of sitting in the back of an old-timey wagon and discussing everything except how painful it is to be in each other’s presence.

At dinner, Peter and Victoria F. actually do discuss how painful it is to be in each other’s presence. Victoria F. is clearly struggling to devise a way to remain on the show (thus accruing social media prowess, downstream sponsorships, and a clinched spot on Paradise) while continuing to pretend that she is anything but sexually nauseated by Peter.

Peter senses this conflict but opts against compassionate release. Victoria F. gets the rose and time added to her sentence.

The Two-On-One

Peter, already executing the weakest season of The Bachelor thus far, also manages to achieve the weakest two-on-one of all time. There is no helicopter ride to an intimidatingly remote location. Peter doesn’t leave someone on a canopied bed in the middle of a desert. This two-on-one is just Peter taking Mykenna and Tammy into a separate room during the Cocktail Party to yell at them for sucking.

Peter deems Tammy the more annoying of the two and sends her home, but he allows Mykenna to briefly exit the frying pan and return to the fire.

The Rose Ceremony

The women descend into the spookily-lit dungeon wine cellar of the Santiago Renaissance to await their fates. As a Marriott loyalist, I can confirm that all Renaissance properties have dramatic dungeons reserved specifically for cult ceremonies, and Santiago’s is no exception.

Peter wastes no time. Roses are dispensed to our final six, excluding hot, dumb Sydney and recently-spared Mykenna. Mykenna gives one last triumph speech of self-affirmation, declaring through tears, “This girl is tough! She is strong! She is powerful! She is muscular. She has excellent bone density and eight years ‘til 30. And she has at least three more pink dresses she wanted to show off, but she will save them for a more deserving lover.”

Until next week.

[for-the-fantasy]

So Much Has Happened, But Nothing Has Changed. Chapter Four.

MASTERLIST

“So, you two finally saw sense” Shannon smirked

 They were sat at Shannon’s kitchen table and after four months of seeing each other on the down low, had finally decided to tell Shannon. They were great together, never left each other’s side. They went on road trips, to see movies and for intimate, romantic dinners. They still kept their ritual of going up to their spot every so often, just to talk about how things had turned out. Jared and Shannon were finishing up their new album and Addison had been promoted to interior design consultant, which sounded fancier than it actually was.

 “I know” Addison laughed “Who would’ve thought it?”

 The trio all chuckled quietly, Jared kissing Addie’s hand until Shannon broke the silence,

 “Come on, we need to get ready” He motioned to Jared

 They were playing the first gig of many for this week and Addie finally had a night off from looking after her father to go watch them,

 “I am so excited” she clapped her hands together “Guys I haven’t seen you play in so long”

 “I’m excited for you to see us play,” Jared winked grabbing her by the waist as they walked towards the front door.  

 “Okay, so I’m going to go check on Ethan and my Dad and then meet you guys at the gig at about 7:30?” Addie fished for the car keys in her bag

 “Perfect” Jared smiled kissing her on the cheek “See you later”

 Addie came home to a typical Saturday night in their household, Ethan was sat watching some trashy action movie as usual whilst her Dad sat beside him, peacefully resting his eyes.

“Hey guys” she called, “How’re we all doing?”

 “Good” Ethan called out, turning his head and smiling, “Well you’re very cheerful this evening”

 “I am” Addie smiled, walking over to her father and giving him a kiss on the cheek, he opened his eyes and attempted a smile “I am so excited for tonight! Okay, I have to leave in about an hour, I’ll get Dad ready for bed and then is it okay for you to put him to bed? I have to be there by 7:30 so I won’t be here to help you”

 “Yeah that’s cool, we’ll just be chilling until then anyway, wont we Pops?” Ethan smiled at his father “I’m glad you’re in a better place now, Addie” Ethan smiled at his baby sister

 “Me too, thanks Ethan, don’t know what I’d do without you”

 “Oh, stop you” Ethan chuckled, “Now go get dad ready for bed so you can go and party it up, girl!”

 ~~~

The gig was amazing, Addie felt the electric energy all through the venue, Jared was absolutely killing it, he was even better than she remembered and she couldn’t have been prouder of him, she danced and sang along to all the songs and felt as though her heart could burst with pride seeing him up there doing the thing he absolutely loved more than anything in the whole entire world. He was born for this, she thought, he looked at home up there and he had the crowd wrapped round his little finger.

 She waited patiently in the green room when the gig was over, the guys, high on adrenaline, bursting into the room. Jared darted over to her, picking her up and swinging her around and around,

 “Baby, I am so fucking glad you were here to see me play, I fucking killed it because I knew you were watching” He put her down and planted her lips with a long passionate kiss “I love you”

 “I love you more” she laughed “Okay now you need to have a shower because you are so sweaty but I can’t wait to get you home Mr. Big-Time-Rockstar, seeing you up there did all kinds of things to me” she whispered, making sure the guys were all out of ear shot.

 He winked, grabbing her ass and leading her out of the greenroom.

~~~  

 Jared and Addison had been together almost a year and by now Jared was practically a fourth family member, sometimes helping Ethan and Addie look after their Dad, which they found hilarious because he was completely clueless.

 They were set in their routine and everything was as it should be, Addison had gone from working part-time to full-time, fitting her schedule around Ethan’s so that at least one would always be available to stay with their Father when Maggie had days off. She would work in the day and come home and take care of everything that needed to be done for her Dad. Jared’s new album was complete and ready for release, meaning that he had a lot more extra time on his hands, he would come see Addie every night after work at 5pm without fail and every time he helped her look after her Dad, he felt as though he recognised him more and more.

 “Looking good this morning, Mike” he would say, patting him on his shoulder “now I know you recognise who I am today!” he would laugh as Addison’s Dad squinted his eyes as if in some distant part of his brain he really did remember Jared.

But, today was different, Jared was wrapped up in business meetings all day and Ethan had secured himself a hot date with a bombshell brunette, so it was just Addison and her Dad all evening, she tidied away dinner, sat watching the TV with her Dad for a while and finally put him to bed.

 It was nearing midnight and she still hadn’t heard from Jared when there was a knock on the door, it was Jared, his smile stretching from ear to ear as he rushed in and twirled her around,

 “I’m so sorry I’m late baby” He kissed her on the cheek “but we fucking did it! Addison, we fucking did it!”

 “Shh, be quiet you crazy man, you’ll wake him!” she motioned to her father’s room trying to stifle her giggling. “did what?”

 “We got it! We secured a headlining world tour, baby!” He kissed her passionately on the lips

 “You’re insane! That’s amazing” Addison hugged him tight “I’m so happy for you guys, when do you go?”

 “When do I go? You mean when do we go?” Jared laughed sitting on the couch and motioning for her to join him.

 Addison stayed standing, “We? What? Don’t be ridiculous I can’t come with you!”

 “Why not?” Jared positioned himself on the edge of the couch “of course you can!”

 “Did you fall and hit your head before you came in here? Of course, I can’t, I have people here counting on me! I can’t just pick up and leave at the drop of a hat”

 “Okay well maybe not right away but we could maybe give Maggie more hours to look after your Dad and I’m sure Ethan could manage? He’s always telling you to go out and have fun anyway, come on Addie, it’s your life we’re talking about here, you can’t be stuck in this place forever”

 “What? No, Jared this is insane, I can’t just leave my job and sure Ethan tells me to go out and have fun but not leave the fucking country. I have my life here, I can’t just follow you round the fucking world forever” Addison was growing frustrated, “You go and I’ll stay here and wait for you, I thought that was going to be the plan all along anyway?”

 “Fine, you’re right, I’m sorry, I just thought you’d be really open to the idea, I just don’t like the idea of you waiting around for me.” Jared held out his hand for Addison to take, wrapping herself in his arms, she sat on his lap

 “I’m not saying it won’t be hard,” she sighed “but I love you more than anything”

 She turned her face so that they were nose to nose, cupping his cheeks and planting a long soft kiss on his lips

“We’ll make it work”

 ~~~

 Jared had been on the road for eight months, things had not been easy by any means but Addison and Jared had managed to figure it out, phone calls at least three times a week and the odd video chat when they were both free, which was not very often these days, Jared seemed to be getting more and more into the rock star headspace, which didn’t really bother Addison, only that he was becoming less available. He was due home in a week and Addison literally couldn’t wait.

 The day had finally come and practically speeding to the airport, she parked, grabbed her handbag, shoved her sunglasses on her face and excitedly made her way to arrivals. She waited eagerly for him to come through the doors and when he finally did she couldn’t contain herself, she ran to him and jumped full force nearly knocking him to the ground,

 “Fuck I missed you so much” he grabbed her so tight, not wanting to let go “I can’t wait to get home baby” he looked tired, the bags under his eyes a clear giveaway, skinner then he was when he left and less energetic, she took hold of his hand,

 “Come on, you” she smiled

 They pulled up to Jared’s house, the whole ride filled with conversations about the tour, the different places that Jared had been, Addie filled him in on how her Dad was getting on, what Ethan was up to and how her job was going, whilst she felt the smallest flicker of inadequacy, he still seemed interested however he seemed different, she could feel it in her bones, he wasn’t himself, as much as he tried to convince her otherwise

 “I can’t wait to get you inside,” Jared winked “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to have my way with you, those late-night phone calls aren’t enough anymore” he grabbed her thigh before they both got out and made their way up the drive way

 “Dirty Birdy” she winked kissing him as he unlocked the front door.

[generouslykrispystudentblog-blog]

Assessment: Starbucks’ Hotly Anticipated Pumpkin Spice Latte

Overview: Starbucks’ Hotly Anticipated Pumpkin Spice Latte

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