#mitzi shore

[z34l0t]

[midnightmoonbeams]

Found Mitzi reading on the shore.

May 3rd, 2020

[cherryslyce]

Amalfi Coast | Theodore Nott

Synopsis: The end of your years at Hogwarts brings about stirring changes: the unveiling of your betrothal to Theodore Nott and an all-expense getaway to Italy for alone time with your husband-to-be.

PAIRING: Theodore Nott x GN!Reader

WORD COUNT + NOTES: 4.5k. I am so weak for Theodore.

The shards of glimmering light that dance across the soft peaks of water distances away seem to speak to you as you drift into your thoughts. Crowded between cliff-hanging abodes and the frothing shore, you’ve never felt so insignificant until that moment. 

Your hand absentmindedly brushes against the fine grains of sand below you, the microscopic beads emanating a pleasant warmth against your palm. You hear a soft thud from beside you just as a comforting presence graces you, the uncomfortable stir of disorientation washing away with the drag of the waves. 

“The unit should be prepped soon. We can grab some food after Mitzy brings over our luggage.” Theodore’s smooth voice hums out, eyes clambering to drink in the sight of the sea as well. 

You smile softly at the mention of the boy’s house-elf, remembering how she had been keen to help you pack for the trip. Nodding, you unconsciously shift closer to the boy as you glance at him, “Sounds like a plan.” 

Theodore looks completely serene much to your confusion. A large part of you was grateful that Theodore was chosen to be your betrothed, but another chunk of your heart twinged painfully at the thought. It was no secret that Nott Sr. was a strict man, and you couldn’t help but spiral into a web of thoughts about how Theodore was likely forced into being with you. 

It had only been a few months since you both graduated from Hogwarts, but you distinctly recall how close Theodore was to Millicent Bulstrode. Your brain sifted through your memories of the girl, remembering her calculative eyes and pin-straight posture. 

You just hoped the girl wouldn’t hex you for swooping in and stealing her boyfriend. 

You and Theodore weren’t exactly close friends, but you both sought out each other’s company during exam season, enjoying the comfortable routine of silence that you both fell into during those days. Outside of the library, interactions with the boy dwindled into nods and occasional smiles. Despite the distance between you both during school, you held onto hope that your familiarity with one another would serve as a stepping stone towards a smooth relationship. 

Conversation with Theodore is sparse for the hours that follow, the both of you mulling over thoughts of pleasantries and faltering topics of chatter. The fervid wind settles the farther you trek from the shoreline, now teetering past assortments of clustered buildings, all mottled with bright colors. 

Your wand presses stiffly against your side as you tuck it into the waistband of your bottoms, concealing it from view as you both approach a swarm of people. Theodore keeps beside you, donning black sunglasses that keeps his searching gaze hidden as you both bask in the foreign environment. 

It was lively and bright, the antithesis to the perpetual gloom and blisters of humming that was encroached in every stone of Britain. White verandas and endless shrubbery adorned the collection of shops around you, catching your eyes every so often. 

“Here we are.” Theodore mutters, throwing you a small smile as your mouth drops into a vague o-shape. 

The restaurant is stretched open with white beams of wood streaming upward to a flat wooden ceiling, the entirety of the seating area is squared away by the side banisters instead of proper walls, letting in the cool wind and seaside view. Theodore steps forward to speak with the hostess, hand lifting up to tug off his sunglasses as a blanket of shade envelopes you both. 

You’re entranced by Theodore’s rapid-fire speaking, wondering if he had chosen Italian for his language lessons in order to strengthen his friendship with Blaise. With Theodore’s fluency and the restaurant’s expansive array of tables, you’re both seated in a matter of minutes. 

The speckless table cloth drapes past your legs like a waterfall, effectively providing a shield against the breeze as you take your spot across from Theodore. The boy plucks his menu up and shoots you an indecipherable look from above the booklet as you remain motionless, seeing as your elementary understanding of Italian begins and ends at Ciao and Grazie.

Theodore’s lips flicker up momentarily before he lays his menu down and shuffles it over to you, “Do you want pasta? Or salad? They also have pizza, if you prefer that.” 

Your lips split into a small smile of relief, a warmth blossoming in your chest as the stiff atmosphere around you both seems to wash away. Theodore reads off of the entire menu for you, eyes occasionally shifting to your concentrated face as you pedal between a few options.

When you finally decide on a dish, Theodore offers you a light hum and shining eyes, paralyzing you for a few moments. Perhaps, and to your relief, your relationship could work out after all. You just needed to clear the air between you both first. 

The meal continues on without a hitch, but you have to make a conscious effort to not stare at the boy in front of you when the sun begins to sink behind the basin of sea water. 

The swirls of orange and pink of the sky illuminate his sharp features, complementing his already striking complexion. A tamed buzzing of conversation wafts through the air, spurring you to word-vomit the thoughts that were plaguing you since your first joint dinner with Theodore and his father weeks before. 

“I’m sorry,” You begin, looking away from Theodore when he meets your gaze with furrowed eyebrows, “about our marriage.” 

Silence ensues after your vague words, and when you finally work up the courage to glance back at Theodore, confusion settles into the etches of your mind as you see his frown and penitent gaze. You had expected false platitudes of reassurance, or bitter resignation—hell, maybe anger—but certainly not the look he was giving you right now. 

Clearing your throat, you sit up and lean forward, “I mean, I know that you would rather not be betrothed to me, so I’m sorry. My parents are quite lenient people, so I should have fought against it since I know your heart belongs to someone else already.” 

“What?” Theodore wheezes out, reeling back to process your words. 

Feeling heat creep up your neck, you falter back with quiet words, “Maybe, if I had refused vehemently, my parents could have convinced your father to not force you. I just wanted to apologize because I don’t want any lingering awkwardness or expectations for each other.”

Before Theodore can respond, your waiter paces over, giving you a polite smile before turning to address Theodore. The boy in front of you distractedly answers the waiter, eyes flickering back to your rigid figure amidst his words. 

Once the waiter parts from your tableside, leaving behind a quaint black tray for your sum, Theodore seems to fall into a silent daze as he robotically composes himself and leaves the money on the tray. When he pushes his chair back, you follow suit, ready to play catch up if he swept away and down into the streets without you. 

To your muted surprise, Theodore stops by your side and holds out his hand for you to take. Hesitantly clasping his calloused hand in yours, you are only able to await his words with bated breath, distracting yourself by focusing on the feeling of his rings against your fingers. 

Theodore leads you yards away from the restaurant, only falling to a halt once you both reach a secluded area beside a blocked-off cliffside. The sound of crashing waves tangles into the air as Theodore’s eyes run around your face for a few moments. 

“Do you want to call this off?” Theodore whispers, eyes steely with resolution as his other hand moves to lightly grip your arm. 

You gape at his blunt words, swallowing thickly as your gaze falls to the ground, “If that’s what you want.” 

“But what do you want?” He mumbles, stepping closer to you as another chilly gust of wind flies around your unguarded figures. 

Peering back up to him, you frown before divulging, “I don’t want to call it off.” 

“Good. Me neither.” Theodore nods, eyes softening at your honesty. 

“But what about Millicent?” You mutter, head tilting with visible perplexion. The poignant reminder of her existence evokes a storm of doubts in your veins, and your head starts spinning with the culmination of the day’s events. 

Theodore cranes his head back to assess you as he plainly responds, “What about her?” 

This time, it’s your turn to survey his confused face with a mirrored look, “What? She’s your girlfriend? I can’t in good conscience do that to someone, arranged or not.” 

Theodore’s mouth parts as he stares at you, and for a moment you’re disconcerted by the thought that he perhaps only just remembered her, but then, the most remarkable thing happens—Theodore starts to chuckle. His shoulders quake faintly with every muffled sound, and after a few moments, he throws his head back to let it out toward the darkening sky. 

Before you have a moment to question the boy’s sanity, he turns back to you with a wide grin, “Is that what you were talking about earlier? You caught me from left field. I was worried that you were displeased because your heart belonged to someone already.” 

Seeing your inquiring eyes, he shuffles closer and shakes his head, “I’m not dating Millicent, silly one. Where’d you get that grand idea from?”

“You guys were always together, and all the rumors–” Your words come out borderline defensive, neck blazing from embarrassment. 

Theodore huffs and squeezes your arm, softly cutting you off from your spiel, “Just rumors. I wouldn’t have agreed to any sort of arrangement if I was with someone else, my father knows that much.” 

“Right, yeah. Sorry.” You nod, scratching at your neck to dispel the humiliation that would live on in your head until your last moments on Earth. 

“Silly.” Theodore hums, letting go of your arm to tap at your forehead, “Let’s head to our place before we freeze, yeah?” 

Your rental unit was quite spacious to your surprise, and you were almost too enraptured with touching every inch of furniture to notice that there was only one bed in the entire space. Almost. 

Theodore is cognizant of the same dilemma, clicking his tongue dryly as he murmurs quietly under his breath. 

“I can take the floor.” You speak up almost zealously, easily masking how the prospect of waking with a sore back was killing you on the inside. Theodore and you had barely started building a thin understanding for your relationship, and you’d be damned if a single bed would stir up tension again. 

Theodore swivels to look at you, “No need, we can share the bed. If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll take the floor.” His voice leaves little room for argument, and he runs a hand through his locks as he nods reassuringly at you. You’re touched by his consideration and understanding, glad that you weren’t in such a position with someone like Crabbe or Goyle, both of whom would likely grunt inaudibly and leave you to your ministrations. 

“Let’s share, then.” You concede, heart thrumming fervently in your chest. 

Theodore smiles softly at you and beckons you closer as he sits down on the bed, hand reaching out for you as you slowly tread forward. When you gently place your hand in his, he gives a faint tug, eyes darting down to the empty spot beside him. 

Once you’re snug on the plush mattress, you turn to him with a wry grin, “We’ve skipped pretty much every single conventional step to get here. From study partners to life partners.” 

“I suppose you’re right,” the corner of his mouth slants up, “from barely knowing my name to taking my surname, hm? Quite unorthodox.” 

Shaking your head, you flop back onto the bed, keenly aware of how Theodore tightens his hold on your hand as it begins to slip away. Peering up at him, you raise an eyebrow, “Who said I’m taking your last name, Nott? You’re taking mine.” 

“Hyphenating, it is.” He murmurs as his eyes trail toward the balcony ways off across the room. 

You chuckle and stare into the abyss of the dim ceiling, “Any excuse to have a ridiculously extensive name.” 

“Never as ridiculous as Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.” He muses, slowly lowering himself to lay beside you. 

A few tantalizing beats pass before your jumbled mind seems to take away any semblance of restraint from your mouth, “I never thought it would be you, to be frank.” 

“Yeah?” Theodore hums, head now turned towards you. 

Nodding, you run your free hand along the edge of the bed as you continue, “My parents had been considering Crabbe for a while. I mean, they know nothing about him, but I can just imagine how that dinner would have gone once they realized just who they were shipping me off to.” 

Theodore continues to study you, hand squeezing yours again before he mumbles, “I knew it’d be you.” 

Snapping your head to the side, your eyes widen at his hooded gaze, “Really?” 

“My father knew it too. That I wouldn’t have anyone but you.” His admission knocks the wind from your lungs, and you almost want to throttle yourself off the bed to ensure that you weren’t dreaming. 

“Yeah?” You ask dumbly, heart stuttering against your ribs. 

Theodore shifts to lean on his elbow, bringing his face closer to yours as he whispers, “Want to know a secret?” 

All you can do is nod, trying to blink away the dizziness coiling around your head from the close proximity. 

He hums and slowly retracts his hand, bringing a finger to trail the bedding beside your shoulder, “I was the one to ask your parents for permission to court you. Now, I’m going to wash up first, I promise I won’t be long.” 

Without a hitch, Theodore swiftly clambers off of the bed, leaving the mattress to gently recoil against your back as it expands to its original form. You’re only able to grapple for a coherent thought once the bathroom door shuts with a click, barring you from staring at Theodore in wonder. 

Once you hear the stream of the shower head emit from the bathroom, you slowly prop yourself up and trudge towards the balcony, swinging the glass doors open and allowing the whistling wind to zip through the newly exposed aperture. The biting breeze nips at your cheeks as you stare into the sky, surveying all the twinkling stars as you recount the day’s events. 

You aren’t exactly sure what you’re going to say to Theodore, or if you’re even going to be able to look him in the eyes once he emerges from the bathroom, but you supposed that the turn of events unfolded more pleasantly than you could have hoped.

The distant clamoring of partygoers ways away from the balcony lulls you into a loop of idle daydreams, and you aren’t sure how many minutes have passed since Theodore’s departure from your side, but the whirlwind of your elusive thoughts dissipates when a warm hand grazes your arm. 

“You alright? I’ve been calling your name for a bit now.” Theodore mumbles, eyes glazed with worry as he searches your blank expression. 

Blinking slowly, you nod and offer a faint smile, “Fine, just lost in my thoughts.” 

“It’s a bit chilly out here,” He glances to his right, evidently hearing the faint pulsing of music as well, “why don’t we head in?” 

“Yeah,” you whisper, smiling at him, “I’ll try not to wake you when I get out of the shower.” 

As you make your way to weave around the boy, body feeling weightless despite the fatigue drenching your muscles, you can feel his eyes following you until you’re swallowed by the shadows of the room. 

The numbing balm of the night’s wind melts away from your face as you peer up into the shower head. The swath of steam that swirls around your body, cloaking the mirrors and walls, seems to inhibit the taunts of your overactive brain. 

Your getaway would continue for another week before you’d begin wedding arrangements, already feeling the splintering headache emerging at the thought of sitting down and picking between a plethora of cloth samples. Unions between pureblood families were a big deal for the elite circle of families as the event would serve as the perfect opportunity for pretense and business transactions between different houses. 

When you crack the bathroom door open with a muffled pop, dismissing the rush of steam that flees hurriedly into the cool room, you vaguely make out the figure of Theodore propped up against the headboard. The hues of moonlight peek through the bare panes of your window, curtains swept aside, faintly illuminating the silhouette of the furniture. 

“Still up?” You whisper, padding over to delicately arrange yourself beside the boy. 

As you shuffle under the plush covers, dragging the edges under your arms, you turn to peer at Theodore’s profile, watching as his throat bobs down as he slowly turns to you. 

“Didn’t want to sleep without you.” He mutters, slowly sinking to lay down beside you. 

You suppress the tender smile threatening to peel across your face and nod, “I see. You’re not a restless sleeper, are you?”

“Are you?” He quietly intones, voice growing fainter as sleep begins to grip at his consciousness. 

“No, I’m not.” You hum, resisting the urge to sweep your fingers forward in search of his, “Goodnight, Theodore.” 

“Goodnight.” 

You both fall asleep facing one another, inches apart as the glow of the moonlight chases away the gulfs of darkness that slink in the corners of your room. It is in this position that your slumber is torn away from you mere hours later, moonlight now dispersing into small shards that nearly blend away against the white covers. 

The foggy film that clouds your senses and sight reel away as you hear a small grunt from beside you followed by incessant shifting. Blinking away your drowsiness, you slowly shift up to survey Theodore, slowly comprehending his distress. 

Theodore huffs out, a muffled groan blooming into the quiet atmosphere around you. Carefully reaching over, you shake the boy’s arm, eyebrows furrowing when he simply shifts again. 

“Theodore, hey,” You feebly call out, shaking his arm more frantically as he remains trapped in the desolate rapids of unconsciousness. 

Leaning down you bring your other hand to softly pat his cheek, you wait with bated breath as his ministrations quell before ceasing entirely. Eyes now accustomed to the veil of midnight darkness, you see his eyes slowly blink open, a light sigh escaping his lips as he begins to claw back into reality. 

“Hey, it’s alright, you’re alright,” You softly murmur, bringing your fingers up to gently card back his waves, any semblance of fatigue evaporating from your bones as you focus on comforting the boy. 

Theodore brings his hand up to yours, eyes beginning to sluggishly droop again, “Y/N?” 

“Hm?” You hum out, readjusting your position as sickly soreness jolts up your arm. 

“I guess I am a restless sleeper.” He mumbles, nudging against his pillow before he emits another sigh. His voice rumbles lethargically, and you sense that he is about to slip away into slumber again when he tightens his hold on your hand. 

“Hm. What’s up?” You whisper, moving to lay down as well. 

Theodore is silent for a few seconds before he tersely whispers back, voice nearly drowned out by the thumping of your heart in your ears, “Can I hold you?” 

You shift closer to the cocoon of warmth batting off of him, steadily bringing your arm to wrap around him, “Of course.” 

Theodore wraps his arms around you and drags you towards him, a content hum buzzing from his throat as he tucks you under his chin. For the few grand moments that pass afterward, you are left to contemplate the consequences your position would entail for when the sun rose, and you fervently hoped that no awkwardness would ensue. 

Your close proximity to Theodore allows you to hear the faint thumping of his heartbeat, now undeviating in its rhythm. Bringing your free hand forward, you tuck it in the nestle of warmth between your bodies, trying to conjure inklings of sleep as a dense pressure burrowed itself in your eyes. 

The lull of concentration fades into blind navigation in the crevices of your mind, and when your pulsing thoughts dwindle to incomprehensible echoes, slumber greets you once again.

When your mind blisters into stark clarity, it is with recognition of the orange hues flashing in your vision and the traces of aimless lines on your back. Your body instinctively pines for the cushion of bliss that mutely calls for you: a mixture of aftershave and pear. 

For a few moments, it is completely tranquil. Until you realize that your pillow had a heartbeat. 

The revelation is enough to jumpstart the discombobulated wires of your brain. Your eyes crack open to greet the rays of light that crowd your vision, an unpleasant stinging causing you to squint as you huff out. 

“Good morning.” Theodore’s voice is gravelly, barely above a whisper. 

“Hi Theodore.” You mumble out, remaining motionless against him. 

His chest vaguely rumbles and you feel him splay one his hands against your back, “Theo. Only my father and Blaise call me Theodore.” 

“Blaise?” You tiredly repeat, cheek squishing against his shirt. 

“At his insistence, honestly. He thinks it’s fun.” Theodore hums, and that reminder has your hazy brain blinking with a sudden memory. 

“Wait. Theodora, right?” You raise your head up, a wide grin plastered on your face as you remember the one night when Blaise dragged him away from your study routine using that nickname. 

Theodore blinks before he groans into the air, bringing one of his arms up to throw over his eyes as he grumbles, “Merlin, I was hoping you’d forget or even mishear that.”  

“Oh, I almost did, but Blaise’s ruckus was far more interesting than a Potions essay.” Theodore hums tiredly at the mention, and his reaction only spurs you on, “So, does he make it a habit to say Theodora, or is Dora better?” You say cheekily, shrugging innocently when Theodore peers down at you with a playful glare. 

“Enough about Blaise,” Theodore mumbles, poking your ribs with his fingers as he maneuvers to sit up, dragging you to lean into his side as he did so, “I have something planned for today.” 

“You’re being frighteningly vague, should I be worried?” You hum, muffling a low yawn. 

Theodore shakes his head and dryly huffs , “Actually, I was planning on testing a few levitating charms on you.” His fingers dance lightly against your back as his voice drops into a feathery tone, “Have some faith in me.” 

“I trust you.” You murmur, exhaling through your nose in amusement before you grow serious, “Anyway, did you sleep okay?” 

Theodore doesn’t answer you, and you slowly raise your eyes to meet his face in confusion, “Theo?” 

“Hm?” He hums distractedly, face craning closer to yours as he seems to almost stare through you. 

Your heart collapses into the void of your ribcage for a split second before it begins to thrust violently against your chest, spurring a sea of warmth up your neck and ears. Theodore’s eyes flicker across your face as his hands begin to absentmindedly draw patterns against your sides. 

You aren’t sure you’re breathing properly. Or at all. 

One of his hands trails up to your arm, sliding to rest on the junction between your neck and shoulder as he muses, “Before we get up and go on about our day, I have something for you.” 

Your eyebrows wrinkle at his words, eyes not straying away from his unwavering gaze. This time, it’s you who gives a small hum, patiently waiting for his next words. 

“Just a small gift,” He whispers, slowly slotting his other hand on the small of your back, “It’s been a long time coming, really.” 

His eyes drop down to your lips and that’s all you really need before you’re leaning towards him with anticipation, hands steadying themselves on his chest. Theodore’s lips part and he gazes at you for confirmation, jaw clenching imperceptibly as words become lost between you both. 

When you remain resolute, he swiftly connects his lips to yours, mouth moving feverishly against yours. His hands press against your body, keeping you grounded as he begins to lean over you, lips never ceasing in their frenzied dance against yours. 

Grasping the sides of his neck, you tug him impossibly closer to you as he hovers over you, one of his hands moving to run soothingly along your waist. 

A few more heated moments pass before the tug for air becomes too great to ignore, causing you to break away from him, head tilting to the side as your lungs tinge with a faint tightness. Theodore grunts at your escape, chasing after you as he tries to satiate his desire, only opting to leave heavy kisses against your cheek and jaw when you tap his neck. 

Closing your eyes, you bring your fingers to card through his hair as you attempt to halt the dizzying stars spinning across your eyelids. Amidst your fruitless efforts, a sudden tug has your eyes flying open, a bemused hum echoing through the air once you realize Theodore is guiding you to sit up. 

He remains silent as he glides down from the side of the bed, hand drifting to lace with yours as he pulls you to sit at the edge of the mattress. Reaching towards the bottom drawer of the white dresser, Theodore only briefly glances away as he fishes out a small velvet box. 

“Theo?” You mumble, eyes widening as he drops down on both of his knees. 

“Ring.” He answers quietly, deftly opening the box and pulling out a thin silver band. 

He drops kisses to your knees as he gazes up towards you, bringing one of his hands forward in muted questioning. Smiling softly, you place your left hand in his outstretched one, holding your breath when he slips the ring onto your ring finger with ease. 

His hand continues to hold yours, thumb rubbing against your skin as he stares at the band. 

“Thank you.” He finally says, lifting his face up to survey yours, his position leaving him at your complete mercy. 

Your hands instinctively reach out to cup his face, bringing him in for another kiss as a newfound contentment curls into your chest. Theodore remains on his knees as he leans forwards, hands chancing a light slide against your hips as he reciprocates your affection.  

“Fuck, how mad do you think everyone will be if we just eloped?” He grunts out before diving forward again to meet your lips. 

Pulling back with a small laugh, you shake your head, “My parents would have your head.” 

“I’m willing to pay that price, love.” He grins against your lips, nose nudging against yours. 

Patting his cheek, you narrow your eyes playfully, “Well I’m not, so behave.” 

“Yes, dear.”

masterlist

[sailor-aviator]

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Twelve

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Twelve

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Content Warnings: Panic attack, Mentions of dog attack, Tense Daggers, Arguing, Skipper sneaking away, Cursing, Monster appearance, Crying, Begging, Murder confessions, Execution, Gunshot, Descriptions of blood. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 4.5k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

When you were little, your grandmother had a dog. It was a sweet thing, always eager for pets and treats. You always liked that dog, but the dog tended to be a bit skittish.

You remember walking into your grandmother’s living room one day, no older than five at the time, and seeing the dog - Mitzi you think her name was. You had walked up to her, paying no mind to the fact that she was sleeping, and you stuck your little face by her to greet her. You hadn’t meant any ill by it, but the dog had snapped at you anyway, drawing blood and a screech from your tiny lips. Your parents and grandmother had come running into the room, finding you in tears and Mitzi trying to console you.

Of course, you knew that it hadn’t been the dog’s fault, but it didn’t stop you from shying away from her every time you saw her after that, afraid of the teeth of the otherwise sweet as could be creature that always happily greeted you.

Now you stood on the boardwalk, the ringing in your ears drowning out the laughter and chatter around you, sending you spiraling into a panic as you came to terms with what had just happened. You knew that it hadn’t just been Mandy or Jake to sing to you, but you had allowed yourself to be lulled into a false sense of security, sure that Mandy had been the one to kill the others.

After all, she had tried to kill you.

Your breath came out in ragged gasps as your body went into panic mode, your fingers and toes growing numb as you continued to stare after the space where Cole just stood. He had been the one to tear Mandy apart, but why? To protect you? Why had he killed those other girls then?

In order for a sea person to claim their chosen mate, they have to drag their partner down, down, down beneath the waves, cutting them off from air until they’re to the point of death.

Your breath caught in your throat. Had he been trying to claim them? Is that why he had been singing to you? To drag you beneath the waves of the ocean as well? Your head whipped around to the darkening blue just passed the rails of the boardwalk, the thunderous sound of the waves crashing against the shore sounding more ominous with each passing moment.

Skipper.

Your breathing picked up once more, your hands shaking as you froze, vision becoming pin points as you fought to remain standing, your knees threatening to buckle.

“Skipper!”

A hand grabbed your shoulder and you let out a terrified shriek, drawing the attention of several people around you. You whipped back around, tears in your eyes as they met familiar blue.

“Skipper,” Bob murmured, brow furrowing as he took in your trembling form. “What happened? Are you okay? Where’s Jake?”

Your eyes darted around the crowd, several people glancing over at you with hushed whispers and concerned looks. You let out a choked sob as you finally realized that you were safe. For the moment anyway.

“Bob,” you whimpered, a breeze alerting you to the fact that your tears had long since spilled over. Your bottom lip trembled as the tension finally broke, and you threw yourself in his arms, sobs wracking your body as he held you.

“Skipper, what happened?” He asked again, firmer this time as he ran a comforting hand over your back.

“It was Cole,” you managed to get out, pulling away to look at him, shaking your head frantically. “It wasn’t Mandy. At least, not all those other girls. He dragged them down and something happened, and-”

“Honey, slow down,” Bob said, gripping your shoulders and leaning down to look you in your eyes. “Take a deep breath, can you do that for me?”

You nodded, following his lead as he took in a deep breath through his nose, holding it for a beat, and then letting it out through his mouth. He had you repeat the process a couple more times until you stopped shaking, some clarity returning to you.

“Okay, good,” he smiled, rubbing your arms. “Now tell me what happened.”

“I ran into Cole,” you started again, “except that I didn’t know it was him at first.”

You stopped, pursing your lips as you stared at your best friend.

“Bob, he sang to me.”

“He sang to you?” Bob balked, eyes growing wide as he looked around. “Where is he now? Has he been singing to you this whole time?”

“Yes,” you nodded, taking his hand. “This whole time we thought it was just Mandy, but Bob, it was him too. He’s been calling to me since I ran into him that day at the tilt-o-whirl. He’s the one that’s been killing all of the girls.”

“Why would he do that?” He asked, more to himself than to you. You gripped onto Bob’s forearms, drawing his attention back towards you.

“It’s his frenzy,” you murmured, the pieces clicking together the more you thought about it. “Jake told me that the longer a sea person goes without taking a mate, the more dangerous the process becomes. The frenzy causes sea people to lose their control right?”

“Right,” Bob answered hesitantly, the wheels in his head turning as you continued on with your theory.

“He’s losing control, Bob,” you breathed, looking past him and back towards the water. “He doesn’t have a mate, and he’s trying to take one, but he keeps losing control and killing them. He’s going to keep going until he finds someone to be his mate.”

“Not someone, Skipper,” Bob frowned, worry shining bright in his eyes as he looked up at you. “You.”

“What?” You blinked, confusion sweeping over you.

“He’s been calling for you, Skipper. Ever since he laid eyes on you, it’s been you that he wants. He’s not going after anyone else,” he hissed, hand grabbing your forearm and scanning the crowd wildly. “We need to find Jake and the others. Come on.”

Without waiting for a response, he started dragging you through the crowd, the both of you searching wildly for your friends.

“There!” You shouted at him, pointing to your right towards the haunted house attraction. You saw Bob let out a sigh of relief as he pushed through the crowd with you in tow to stand before your friends.

“Hey!” Nat chirped, smile dropping when she saw the two of you looking worse for wear.

“Woah,” Reuben said with a whistle. “What’s up with the two of you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Which can’t be because we haven’t even gone through the haunted house yet,” Mickey grinned, pointing at the building behind him. Nat rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to the two of you.

“What happened?” She asked, eyes searching yours. “Where’s Jake?”

Before you could answer, a hand came up to tug you away from Bob, the bespectacled man moving to protest until he saw who it was, relaxing only a fraction.

“There you are,” Jake drawled, placing a kiss to your temple. “You disappeared on me.”

You looked up at him, and his demeanor instantly shifted from easygoing to alert.

“What happened?” He demanded, eyes glancing at your friends.

“We were just about to get there when you interrupted,” Nat scowled, hands on her hips as she glared at the blond. Jake muttered something under his breath but turned his attention back to you expectantly.

“Skipper is in danger,” Bob said, eyes hard and serious as the words left him. Jake stiffened next to you, the sound of a low growl emanating from his imposing frame.

“What do you mean she’s in danger?” He hissed, green eyes narrowing at your best friend. You turned to face him fully, hands grasping his tightly so that he looked at you.

“It’s Cole,” you breathed, “he’s been singing to me. He’s been singing to me this whole time, and we all just thought it was Mandy. It’s his frenzy, Jake. He’s losing control.”

You cursed internally at the way your voice cracked at the end, emotion overtaking you. You thought about Jake and how close he was to being in the same position as Cole. Even now, you could see how desperately he was clinging onto his control, the greens of his eyes glowing at the very thought that you might be taken from him. You reached up to cup his cheek, pulling his attention back to the surface and away from the depths of his inward spiral. He blinked at you, confusion warring with desperation as you stared at him.

An unspoken message passed between the two of you, and Jake let out a long sigh, reaching up to place his hand over yours.

“Let’s get you out of here.”

“That’s the dumbest fucking idea I’ve ever heard,” Nat snapped, glaring at Bradley as he leaned back on the couch, tossing his hands up in defeat.

“If you’ve got a better one, I’d love to hear it,” he growled back.

All of you were seated around Jake and Bradley’s living room, a common spot for you all to gather these days. You wished it was under different circumstances, but it seemed that you were once again the center of discussion.

“We could just leave?” Bob suggested, arms crossed over his chest where he sat perched on the end of the coffee table. A low growl ripped through the form beneath you, and you squeezed the arms wrapped around your waist.

Jake had been reluctant to let you go or out of his sight once he knew you were in danger, insisting on your current position once you all had made it back to the house.

Jake didn’t look at you, but squeezed you tighter to him as he fixed your best friend with a warning glare. No one was taking you away from him.

“That might not be a bad idea,” Reuben muttered, eyes darting up to look at you. You could feel the anger radiating off of your boyfriend, sighing as Reuben averted his gaze once more.

“We know you don’t like the idea,” Nat started, running a hand over her face as she stared at the blond, “but we’re running out of options here, Jake. She’ll be safest away from here.”

“One of us will be with her at all time,” Mickey offered, flinching at the snarl that tore through Jake. Your brow furrowed as you looked around at your friends.

“I’m missing something,” you said after a beat of silence. “Why are you acting like Jake can’t come with me? What am I missing?”

Everyone avoided your gaze before Bradley rolled his eyes.

“He can’t come with you,” he groused, shooting annoyed looks at all of his friends, “because his frenzy is about to reach its peak, and the ocean is the only place where he can go to release some of that energy without hurting anyone. If he leaves with you, it’s a recipe for disaster and we all risk exposure.”

The room was silent once again as he finished his explanation. Your eyes darted around to each of them, waiting for someone to contradict him. When no one did, you let out a sigh. You knew the goal was to keep you safe, but the thought of leaving Jake behind filled your mouth with a bitter taste, and you knew that leaving wasn’t an option.

“He’s right.”

You jumped, turning as much as you could to look at Jake. A solemn expression sat on his face, eyes pensive before locking on yours. You couldn’t help the stab of betrayal that washed over you, and it was obvious that he noticed.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours, “but if it’s the only way to keep you safe until this passes, then so be it.”

“But what about you?” You implored, feeling the tears kiss the back of your eyes once more. “You shouldn’t have to go through all this alone. I can stay and-”

“Not an option,” he whispered, a wry, humorless smile tugging on his lips. “I need you safe more than I need you here. Don’t you worry about me, angelfish. I’ll be just fine.”

He grazed his nose against yours, breathing you in for a second before pulling away and fixing your friends with a hard stare.

“She’ll need to go inland.”

And with that, they began to discuss plans to take you away from North Island. A feeling of unease and restlessness filled you. How could they expect you to just up and leave? Did you really get no say in what happened? No. Jake might be okay with this, but you weren’t.

While your friends planned, you began to form a scheme of your own.

An hour passed, and you moved to stand, Jake’s arms stopping you as you let out a huff.

“Where are you going?” He asked, eyes immediately glaring at the front door as he listened for any sign of danger.

“To the bathroom,” you scowled. “I think I can do that by myself, don’t you?”

Jake gave you a sheepish look before helping you to your feet, hands on your waist to steady you as you stood in between his legs. The two of you stayed like that, his hands on you as you cupped his jaw in yours.

“I love you,” you said, never breaking eye contact. Jake’s breath hitched at your words, eyes shining as he studied you. He reached up to grab your hand, turning his face into it as he kissed your palm once, twice.

“I love you too,” he smiled, meeting your eyes once more. Your heart swelled before a wave of guilt washed over you, and Jake must have sensed the change because his smile dropped and his brow furrowed. He moved to say something, but you stopped him with a kiss to his forehead.

You pulled away from him, moving down the hall like you were going to use the restroom. The voices in the living room faded slightly, and you paused just out of sight. You waited for a moment before your gaze shifted from the light pouring into the hall to the dimming light filtering through the back door. As quietly as you could, you opened the screen door, slipping out onto the porch and into the night.

You weren’t sure where to go, but you knew you needed to be far away from other people. So you walked the length of the beach, coming to a rocky inlet that was sheltered by the surrounding cliffs. The waves crashed gently against the shore, coaxing you to step closer.

You made a seat out of one of the flat rocks along the shoreline, crossing your legs as well as you could in the dress you still wore. You wished you could have changed, but the group had been in such a hurry to get you away and to somewhere safe, that a change of clothes had fallen by the wayside.

Now here you sat, watching the sun dip below the shoreline, the raucous from the festival still heard even this far out. Still, you waited on the rocks even as the cold seeped through your dress and to your bones, sending a shiver up your spine. The air was calm and unassuming, a stray gull crying out overhead.

“I know you’re out there!” You hollered, watching the waves as they lapped against one another. “I know you’re looking for me too. I’m right here, Cole! Come and find me.”

You waited, still watching the water for any sign of a disturbance. Minutes passed, and you knew the others had discovered your disappearance by now. Another pang of guilt rocked through you, but you remained where you were. After a moment, you stood, stepping back onto the sand and facing the water. With a determined breath, you stepped forward. Then again. And again, until finally you came right to where the water stopped.

“If you won’t come to me,” you shouted, eyes flickering across the waves as the sky around you grew darker, “then I guess I’ll just have to come to you.”

You took a step into the water, feet sinking further into the sand as you shuffled through. Stopping again once the water reached your knees, you looked around for any sign of life. It wasn’t until your third sweep that you spotted him, and your heart stopped.

Cole’s eyes glowed an inhuman green, unblinking as they stared at you. Everything from his nose downwards was hidden beneath the water, but you saw him. It unnerved you how he didn’t move, simply content in that moment to watch you.

“I wanted to talk to you,” you called, hoping you could be heard over the crash of the waves against the rocks. A wave crashed against you, sending you teetering back a little bit as you lost your balance. You stretched your arms out to steady yourself, looking down to frown at the water around you. Looking back up, Cole was gone and your heart dropped. It was only a moment though before he resurfaced, just a foot or two away from you this time, and your heart nearly lept out of your chest at the sight of him.

He looked even worse this close up, olive skin looking pale and shrunken as he stood in the water to face you. The pupils in his eyes were almost slits at this point, and you could see the webbed claws of his hands resting on the surface of the water. He looked like the stuff out of nightmares.

“Cole?” You questioned, unsure if he would even recognize you in his current state. He cocked his head to the side, seeming to contemplate you with a series of clicks that didn’t sound unlike something a dolphin would make. You swallowed around the lump in your throat, continuing, “Why don’t we go back to the beach, huh? We can talk there?”

He stayed silent, still watching as you retreated to the beach, keeping your eyes on him as you moved. Finally, he followed after you, moving like something out of one of those b-grade horror movies Bob made you watch sophomore year.

You let out a small sigh of relief as your feet finally left the water, placing you back on dry land. You retreated a couple more steps until Cole stood in the surf, the two of you only three feet apart now.

“You didn’t mean to hurt those girls, right?” You asked softly, and a flicker of recognition flashed in his eyes before turning into something akin to sorrow.

“Wanted…a mate.”

The change in his voice startled you as well. It was a mixture of a gurgle and a rasp, once again highlighting how inhuman the man before you had become.

“I know,” you murmured, tears stinging at your eyes. “It’s your frenzy, right? It’s making you lose control.”

“Frenzy,” he hissed out, cocking his head to the side once more as he regarded you. Something flickered in his eyes, and he took a step towards you, sending you two steps back. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears as he sneered at you, and you caught a glimpse of his teeth. Teeth that just earlier that evening were normal - human. Now, they were serrated and sharp like a shark’s. You dared to scan the rest of him now that he was completely out of the water, and you noticed now that slits had opened up along the column of his throat. Gills.

“Is this what happens when you don’t take a mate?” You asked him, heart clenching in your chest. “You don’t just lose yourself, huh? You become something you were never meant to be.”

“Skipper,” he said, voice ringing out as he used his song, and a wave of dizziness ran through you, hitting you like a brick wall. You fought against it, shaking your head and clamping your hands over your ears as he went on.

“Need you, Skipper. Come away with me.”

You shook your head again, willing yourself to stay put, but his song that close? It was almost impossible to resist.

“Please.”

Your hands fell to your sides as you quickly lost the battle for your senses, gaze fogging over as you gave in. You took all of one step towards him before the sound of a snarl mixed with what sounded like the call of a whale rang out.

Hands ripped you back before slashing towards Cole, drawing out a pained cry from the man as he fell to the sand, a snarl twisting his lips as he glared up at the person that stood between you and him.

Jake’s eyes glowed a richer green than Cole’s, fury so clear on his face that it almost distracted you from where his pupils were now drawn into slits of their own. His teeth were bared against Cole, hand raised to claw at him again should he move.

“Mine,” Jake growled, the rumble coming from deep within him as he stood over the other man. Cole’s eyes darted to yours, and your heart broke at what you saw.

For a moment, the man you knew before shone through, tears lining his eyes as he looked at you desperately, pleading with you. Without thinking, you placed a hand on Jake’s arm, pushing it out of your way as you moved to kneel down beside Cole.

“Skipper.”

You turned to see Bob and Bradley standing a few feet back, the two FBI agents standing next to them. The older of the two had a grim, sorrowful expression on his face as he watched Cole and the younger looked like he was still coming to terms with what was happening before him. Bob looked like he was about to rip you up from the ground himself while Bradley watched you with an unreadable expression on his face. You gave the two of them a reassuring smile as you turned your attention back to the man in front of you.

Slowly, gently, you cupped his face in your hands so that he looked at you, and for a moment you were reminded of your grandmother’s dog. A sweet thing, but perhaps not meant to be around other people.

Tears flowed freely down Cole’s cheeks as he watched you, the man you knew resurfacing once more. You stroked your thumbs carefully over the apples of his cheeks, wiping away his tears. A sob wracked through him as he closed his eyes, face pinched in pain. You wrapped your arms around him then, holding him to you.

“I’m sorry,” he cried, quietly at first. His shoulders shook as he began to cry harder, his voice raising in pitch as he continued. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! I just wanted the pain to stop, and I-I-I didn’t mean to wait this long. I thought I had more time! I thought that I could pick a mate, but every time I tried to bond with them, it went wrong!”

His tears soaked through the fabric of your dress now, and you were only vaguely aware of the tears that streamed down your own face.

“I didn’t want to hurt them,” he whispered, clinging to you.

“I know,” you whispered back, nodding against the top of his head.

“Make the pain go away.”

“Cole,” you trailed off, looking helplessly at the men around you. He shook his head, pulling away from you.

“Not like that,” he rasped, the look in his eyes growing farther and farther away, and you knew that the moment of lucidness was coming to an end. “It’s too late for that now. There’s only one way out for me.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you moved to argue, but he shook his head.

“I’ll do it.”

You turned to see the older of the two FBI agents, Kazansky if you remembered right, stepping forward to stand beside Cole. You hesitated, looking down at the man in your arms. He gave you a reassuring nod, letting you go as Jake helped you to your feet. The blond pulled you back to stand with the others and you watched as Cole readjusted himself to kneel with his back straight. Kazansky moved to stand behind him, pulling out his service weapon and aiming. A shudder ran through Cole as the monster within came crawling back to the surface, his eyes darting to you.

“I’m sorry,” he sang out, claws digging into the sand. “Please.”

The shot rang out, and you let out a startled cry as Cole’s lifeless body slumped to the ground, crashing with a deafened thump. Your hand flew to your mouth as you stared, watching his blood soak the sand around him and turning it a sickening maroon.

Kazansky holstered his weapon, glancing up at your little group with a purse of his lips as his partner, Simpson, walked cautiously over to him.

“Kerner is going to be pissed when he hears about this. He loves crazy shit,” the younger man muttered. Kazansky scowled at him before turning his attention back towards the four of you.

“You kids should get out of here,” he grunted. “Somebody was bound to hear that shot and call someone. You don’t want to be here when the cavalry shows up.”

“What are you going to say happened?” Bradley asked, eyeing Cole’s corpse. Kazansky shook his head with a sigh.

“You let us worry about that,” he replied. “Now get.”

The boys didn’t wait to be told a third time, moving to leave, but you stayed rooted on the spot. It felt wrong to leave Cole there, and you suspected it had a lot to do with the man who wrapped his arms around your shoulders in a bid to steer you away.

“There’s nothing more you can do for him, Angel,” he murmured, thumb stroking over the skin of your arm as he pulled you along gently.

“That could have been you,” you whispered, and he froze. It was true. Jake was nearing the the point of no return with his own frenzies. He knew it, you knew it, everyone knew it. His hand came up to cup your cheek and you finally looked up at him. His eyes swam with an indiscernible emotion has he studied you.

“It’s not,” he told you quietly, placing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “It won’t be.”

The promise between you two was a silent one, but one that you accepted, finally allowing Jake to pull you along to catch up with the others as police sirens sounded off in the distance.

The weeks of danger, terror, and uncertainty were finally over and behind you.

A/N: Only one chapter left! How exciting!! Anyway, gentle reminder that if you would like to receive updates on my stories or other content I create to follow @sailoraviator-library and turn on post notifications! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! You can also find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator. Until next time! Happy Valentine's Day!!

[oldshowbiz]

Jim Carrey flew from Toronto to Los Angeles in 1979 to audition for Mitzi Shore at the Comedy Store. She turned him down.

He spent the week at the Saharan Motor Hotel.

[westerberg]

Watching this doc about the comedy store and somehow it spends like less than 15 minutes on the comedy strike which is nuts and I’m sure has nothing at all to do with the fact that the guy who made it was one of the guys who broke the strike… also how are you going to barely talk about Steve Lubetkin at all the most interesting thread of the whole story. And praise Mitzi Shore so much and not even bring up the fact she was making piles of money off these people and refused to even just give them a cut of the cover charge. WHATEVER!!!

[creepling]

dating sammy fabelman headcanons

can be read as gn!

you definitely star in a lot of his short films. you are his muse

the way the light hits your face, the way you look on camera... oh he gets carried away

you're probs shy to be in his films and ask him to give you small parts -- or just cut you out entirely. but he says "no, nooooo you're amazing"

you'll be like "sammy i'm not an actor, give the part to someone who wants to do it"

and he hits you with the "you should be an actor! what, you just wanna have a normal, boring job like everyone else?"

and you're like "...yes, sammy. normal is fine"

you admire his creativeness, and he loves how straightforward you are. you can't think outside the box like him, but when he's getting too carried away with ideas, you're there to ground him.

he likes to film you doing mundane things. doing homework? cameras on. styling your hair? smile!

"sam, put the camera away"

"why? you're gorgeous"

"enough with the romantics, romeo"

his parents actually found out about your relationship because of the abundance of film he has of you. one day he was showing one of his movies to his family, but put the wrong film in by accident. then your face projected onto the screen and sammy can be heard saying behind the camera "there they are, the love of my life"

sammy's sisters erupt in shocked laughter "you're DATING someone?"

mitzi gushes "who is that, sammy? do they go to your school?"

sammy is fumbling with the film that refuses to shut off, his face crimson, "MOM STOP"

sammy's a hopeless romantic. before you become official, he was smitten by you and found it difficult to not gawk at you

and now he's dating you?? good golly, he feels so lucky

he makes it mandatory to take you on a date every weekend. your favourite spot is the beach, sitting on the shore and watching the sunset.

i see his love language being words of affirmation. he constantly wants to remind you how much he loves you, and likes the favour returned, but doesn't get butt hurt when you're not as intense as him. he's tries his best to refrain it but.... oh he loves you too much

you hate to admit it, but you like it when he's clingy. because on the days and weeks where he's too busy making his movies, he can't spend as much time with you (hence why he always wants you starring in them)

so when you meet him after a week of not seeing each other, and he just hugs you and splatters kisses all over your face, it makes you feel so happy.

when you don't have classes together and past each other in the corridor, you brush your hands in passing, taking in each others faces, before you have to go off again.

you love watching sam when he's concentrated. the way his lip is tight and eyes hyperfocused, it's a derpy face, but you think it's cute

he likes it when you play with his hair and sing songs softly in his ear. he thinks you have a lovely voice.

when sam is prone to have a panic attack, you're always there to comfort him. you get him a glass of water, sit with him silently and rub his back. now and then you'll say to him "everything is okay" "i love you" "i'm here for you, always". you seem to be the only person that can help him surpass it.

whenever you're having a bad day, sam knows you don't like the extravigants, so he does small things for you. when you graduate and live together, he cleans the house, does the dishes, makes the bed; and cooks your favourite meal for you coming in from work.

he'd just be an amazing partner, and you'd be high school sweethearts grown into loving, supporting relationship later in life. you're there for each other, thick and thin.

he really makes an effort, considering he seen how his parents ended up. he doesn't want the same happening to your relationship. if you were to leave, he'd have no idea what to do with himself.

[maximuswolf]

what band am I thinking of?

what band am I thinking of? My dad went to a nursing home to visit my grandma, and met an 85ish year old woman who was having a conversation with my grandma. She said that she was married to a doctor named Max McKinney (worked at Botsford Hospital in Michigan) and that they had a son who made a band with a relative of John Astor. She apparently said that the band ALMOST made it and that they were signed by Elektra records, then got dropped when the company decided to go for a more "California" sound with bands like The Eagles. From what I understand, this lady's son ended up working at the Comedy Store and lived with Mitzi Shore, playing keyboard and shit at the comedy store. Does this sound familiar to anyone? I tried doing research, but I couldn't find anything Submitted September 18, 2024 at 07:25PM by LIK3ASTONE https://ift.tt/1E9ICLa via /r/Music

[cameronwritt]

The Comedy Store - The Cradle of Stand Up Comedy

Located at 8433 Sunset Boulevard in Los Angeles, The Comedy Store has a rich history as the first dedicated stand-up comedy club in the United States. The original club opened on April 7, 1972. Comedian Sammy Shore and his wife Mitzi opened the club along with Rudy DeLuca, a comedy writer. They started the club to give Sammy a place to work when he was not touring with Elvis Presley.

When Sammy was touring, Mitzi managed the club, selecting and scheduling performers. The club opened at a time when many comedians had moved West, following Johnny Carson’s relocation of the Tonight Show from New York to Los Angeles. This meant Mitzi had many comedians to choose from. The club also benefited from appearances and acts by famous comedians such as Red Foxx, Buddy Hackett, Tim Conway, and Jonathan Winters, who were Sammy and Mitzi’s friends. Richard Pryor also performed at the club to refine material for his live show.

Mitzi’s talent for spotting and nurturing good comedians played a big role in building the success of the club. She supervised future stars such as David Letterman, Robin Williams, Jay Leno, Paul Mooney, Andy Kaufman, and Gary Shandling. The Comedy Store quickly became the top club in West Hollywood, and Mitzi expanded it to locations in Westwood, Pacific Beach, and La Jolla.

In the 1980s and 1990s, more future stars rocked The Comedy Store’s stage including Jim Carrey, Louie Anderson, Arsenio Hall, Sandra Bernhard, Sam Kinison, and Bill Hicks. Even today, The Comedy Store is revered as a launching pad for up and coming comedians.

[recentlyheardcom]

Pauly Shore Reacts to Richard Simmons' Death After Biopic Controversy

Pauly Shore , Richard Simmons Gilbert Carrasquillo/GC Photos ; Ray Tamarra/Getty Photos Pauly Shore is paying tribute to Richard Simmons. “I simply received phrase like everybody else that the gorgeous Richard Simmons has handed,” Shore, 56, wrote by way of Instagram on Saturday, July 13. “I hope you’re at peace and twinkling up within the heavens. Please give my mom Mitzi and my father Sammy an…

[seositetool]

Pauly Shore Reacts to Death of Richard Simmons After Biopic Controversy

Pauly Shore , Richard Simmons Gilbert Carrasquillo/GC Images ; Ray Tamarra/Getty Images Pauly Shore is paying tribute to Richard Simmons. “I just got word like everyone else that the beautiful Richard Simmons has passed,” Shore, 56, wrote via Instagram on Saturday, July 13. “I hope you’re at peace and twinkling up in the heavens. Please give my mother Mitzi and my father Sammy a big hug and a…

[alyosiuscreightonward]

I’m absolutely flummoxed. I’ve had a thing for Tauren men, however the empath streak in me sees beyond the obvious.

Anyway, I’ve a Foster son who hates me and wants me dead and he truly wishes that I was never in his life.

The sidewalk talks. Rumor? Innuendo? Falsehoods? Urban legends? Conspiracy theories? From what I’ve heard, someone is saying shit.

ALLEGEDLY and I mean ALLEGEDLY ever since he moved out West, he’s been an absolute mess. Exxon Valdez, Event Horizon, Ukraine and The Gaza Strip are just tragic comic events that Mitzi Shore may have produced at the legendary Comedy Store.

I am of the belief that it started to go down the shitter was when I had abandoned him in 1994 when I thought I had someone who would love me forever and put me on a pedestal. Child please. I was delusional. I was thinking that I was going to be able to live like the pages of a Barbara Cartland or Rosemary Rogers novel. You feel the Harlequin Romance novels? I was delusional.

I’m going to leave out some things and bring you up to date with the things that MAY have happened to him and ALLEGEDLY have been perpetrated against him. Since he was just a Victim of Circumstance. Like this story: Standing there in the rain in the middle of the night waiting for the last bus to arrive and take him across town as he was in a tee shirt and underwear. The next thing he knew 5-0 was putting him in the back of The Waddy Pagon. I mean he was just trying to get across town and shit went down. Hashtag Facts.

One story I had heard was that he was going to be evicted from his apartment and the storage unit he had was going to be auctioned off ALLEGEDLY due to either Late Payments or Non-Payment. Anyway, the shit hit the fan. Inside the Storage Unit was his mother’s ashes and now they’re gone ALLEGEDLY. These are just things that were told to me and I’ve got to take them with a grain of salt. Now as of recent, he ALLEGEDLY called a mutual and ALLEGEDLY said that he was in a bad situation. The mutual went to say that he was crying and he had a snub nosed .38 up against his head and he truly hated his life. When the mutual reached out to me and told me this story (not even Stephen King could have written this) and how he felt some kind of way about his life but being short of the ready, he couldn’t help him because that’s what he wanted.

After hearing this, I had to process this information and go through my mental Rolodex and see if I could find a card that was going to provide me with the right words. It took me about four days to find the right words. I wrote and the rewrote and edited my soliloquy. I then tossed it aside and then I wrote the following:

~>>>Yo. (Insert name here). Brother Dave reached out to me. We both wish we could help you out however we can't. We are not able to help you because you don't want to help yourself.

We took your advice and we are working on ourselves with meds and therapy.

Any 12 Step Program says: accept, acknowledge, affirm your actions and take ownership and responsibility and then make amends to those who you told to fuck off, eat shit and die.

Sadly I had a birthday yesterday and at 63 years old, I realized that both Brother Dave and myself had done nothing for you ever.

Scream, yell and have a temper tantrum.

Neither one of us can help you out here because you know two senior citizens who are losers.

We do actually care about you but we don't care about you because we are working on ourselves to be better people and you will not.

Sorry budd.

As always, your worst enemy,

(Insert name here)

I then waited for a few days before he clapped back with this and this where I was sitting in my car and laughing and crying at the same time. The absurdity of it all. I’ve read that text multiple times and still I truly believe that I’m in a coma. I’m completely brain dead. Now look here, I’ll safely admit that I’ve been in therapy since I was eight years old and at 63 years old, I’ve had brain surgery and I must admit that I’m the most ignorant person in the entire universe.

Here’s his response:

~>>>Idk why tf you text me. I don't need your help I'm an adult and good. Once again go fuck yourself. Your. Piece of shit, don't ever hit me up I'm blocking your ass. You need fucking help frfr

Excuse me ☝️ I thought I had heard that he has several outstanding warrants in the area he currently resides in and he also has some here on the East Coast ALLEGEDLY. From the very start, from in utero until now at his age of 37, he has been so fucking angry at me for abandoning him yet I did spend thousands of dollars on him in an attempt to make his life easier. As an example, he was playing football and I went without in order for him to have the necessary tools to play football yet he washed out and I apparently talked to his coach about how he should not have him playing football. Again, Excuse me ☝️!!

I know I have made the most obvious mistake by saying that he was my Foster Son. I know I’m a douche bag. I think back to when I last saw him in person. He was in jail and there was several inches of glass between us. I was on the phone with him and I told him how his Aunt and Mother had destroyed me. They concocted their own story about me and as I was doing the ugly cry, I could see him clearly clench his jaw and through his teeth he commanded me to stop crying and to stop talking to him about what happened. I know I had made another huge mistake and told him that I loved him as my son and he just cannot stand it anymore. I’ve always wanted to be a good parent and not just a friend on the periphery. Because I’ve been told by several people that I did the best I could and yet failed miserably and I live with the guilt.

[ithisatanytime]

The Entire Jerry Seinfeld vs Mitzi Shore Beef

[tvguidancecounselor]

TV Guidance Counselor Episode 557: Marc Sheffler

This week Ken welcomes comedian, actor, and writer Marc Sheffler to the show.

Ken and Marc discuss Columbia, Daylight Savings Time, going to New York first so you can learn things before going to California, doing stand up in the late '60s, London Lee, going from driver to opener, Last House on the Left, the Borscht Belt, just wanting to do it once, being the start of the aluminum siding world, Pittsburgh,  hiring the Three Stooges for your 10th Birthday party, being anointed into show biz by Moe, Curly Joe Diritta, Roger Ebert's review of Last House on the Left, David Hess, picking up girls, lying about being a script writer, being in ads, snakes on a bus, moving to LA with money in the bank, and apartment and a car, Being There, Tim Thomerson, getting up at the Comedy Store, Mitzy Shore, David Letterman, Robin Williams, Marc Summers, Jimmy Walker, How Bugs Bunny Won the West, why Warner Bros stopped having live action wrap arounds on recycled Looney Tunes specials, Co-Ed Fever, how amazing Heather Thomas is, Du-beat-e-o, Joan Jett, Marsha Warfield, smoking pot, Richard Pryor, Johnny Dark, Steve Ladesberg, opening for Tower of Power in 1977, Charles in Charge, Harry and the Hendersons, producing Everything Is Relative, the 1988 Writer's Strike, doing an impression of Brett Goldstein, living in England, Ted Lasso, Lee Lacey, the wonder of improv, and the weird weird world of stand up comedy.

[oldshowbiz]

The three rooms of the Comedy Store on Sunset Blvd are known as the Main Room, the Original Room, and the Belly Room. In the early 1950s, when the building was still Ciro's, the three rooms were known as the Banquet Room, the Royal Room, and the Pavilion Room.

The Ciroette Room became Mitzi Shore's office.

[lmmfao-hahaha]