#my coworker/manager though? sweet gal i love her

[outcast-thingz]

....yeah no I think im done there (rant in the tags)

[forcefully-awoken]

hello this is for @titan-fodder's coffee shop AU collab. you can find the rest of the amazing works here. divider by @firefly-graphics

i am patently against coffee shop AU's but i do like plot twists.

pairing: Nemuri Kayama (Midnight) x Reader

Summary: Life is boring when you work at a coffee shop in a small town and your life feels like it's going nowhere. Good thing Nemuri walks through the door and sets her eyes on you.

warnings: pining, angst, ghost shit, author has never worked in a coffee shop, period typical mentions of homophobia

WC: 4.2k

You never thought your life would turn out this way.

Stuck in a dead end job at a local coffee shop, always working the opening shift, paying off loans for a degree you barely had use for now. You weren’t so old now, barely twenty three, but starting college seemed so far away. Everything felt so much easier back then, you were so young and idealistic and you were going to change the fucking world. Now you have to listen intently while the rudest woman in town berates you because her coffee isn’t heated to the exact degree she had specified.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” You reply smoothly, voice honey sweet and fake as hell, “I’ll get that remade for you right away.” You had no such intentions, but this bitch didn’t need to know that. Instead you took it behind the counter, just out of sight while you busied yourself making another drink. Then you handed the original back to her, and watched as the woman took a sip, sighing happily.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” She snips, walking away. You roll your eyes and take up the register again. Standing in front of you is the single most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. You’re certain she’s never been in before, at least not while you’ve been working. She’s eyeing the menu board over your head, while you’re able to drink in your fill of her. Long black hair, falling in soft layers down her shoulders, pale, unblemished skin, full lips, and bright blue eyes. She’s dressed in the vintage style you’ve seen come back into fashion, red glasses perched on her face.

“W-what can I get for you?” You curse how you stutter out the question- you haven’t stuttered in front of a woman since the sixth grade and you realized you liked girls.

“I think just a black coffee, small.” Oh for fucks sake, even her voice is pretty. You mutely nod, picking up a cup to write down the order.

“And a name?” The words are routine as they slip from your mouth.

“Nemuri Kayama,” She replies, giving you a smile as bright as the sun. All you can do is nod back to her, taking her money and making change in silence. Your coworkers snicker quietly when you even go so far as to hand deliver her drink.

“What time do you get off work?” She asks when you manage to make it over to the table and set the drink down without spilling it on yourself. “I’d love to get to know you.” You check the time on your watch.

“Another two hours,” You reply, sadness in your voice because there’s no way she’ll wait.

“Wonderful!” Are you dreaming? You must be dreaming. “I’ll see you then!” Once again you can only nod in reply, silently wondering what the fuck to yourself as you get back to work. You try to look at Nemuri as much as you can, but she seems to just be lost in thought as she sits at the tiny two person table. She gazes out the window with a dreamy smile on her face, every so often bringing the cup to her mouth- though you notice it doesn’t look like she’s drinking, only smelling it.

Two hours has never seemed so long as your shift drags by. Customers come in, you take orders, your heart tries to beat out of your chest. Soon enough you’re hanging up your apron on its little hook, and ignoring the stares of your coworkers as you take a place across from Nemuri. Her cup still looks full, and you almost want to ask if there was something wrong with it before shutting that train of thought down- you’re not working right now.

“Hello,” You breathe out, trying not to sound so excited, failing miserably. “You waited.”

“Of course,” Nermuri practically purrs at you, leaning forward on the table, just slightly closer to you. “I wanted to talk to you.”

That’s all it takes- you think you’re in love now. The talk starts small, just figuring each other out, you tell Nemuri about your degree and she tells you she never went to college, that she worked as a secretary at a bank you hadn’t heard of. You figured it had to be in the town over, but the conversation moved on before you could ask. You don’t think you’ve had such a delightful conversation in ages, so far from your friends and not close to your coworkers.

Nemuri makes you realize how lonely you’ve been, but soothes the ache before it can even begin. Neither of you offer up your last names, but that seems so inconsequential. You want to know what makes Nemuri smile, what drives her out of bed in the morning (“Not a lot,” She says, smiling down at her now cold coffee, “Just getting by like everyone else.”). For all you can find it in you to care the rest of the world is standing still now. You think you could swim in her eyes, drown in the soft peals of her laughter.

It’s not until the pointed coughs of your coworkers that you realize the shop is only a few minutes away from close. She hesitates when you ask for her number, but that doesn’t slow you down. You offer to walk her to her car, but she says she doesn’t have one- doesn’t even have her license in fact. You offer her a ride home, eager to spend more time with the mysterious woman. She nods just the once, and you go to gather your things, taking her coffee to the back to pour it out in the sink. You’ll really have to figure out what kind of drink she likes.

Nemuri is standing by the table, waiting for you once again. She looks ethereal in the low light, and you tell her as much.

“You look like an angel,” You declare confidently, but she somehow becomes even more pale. There’s a split second where you think you’ve done something wrong enough that she’ll faint right there on the spot but she perks up after a moment.

“That’s the first time I’ve been compared to one,” She teases you, and you lead the two of you out the door. When you turn to grab your keys from you bag you take your eyes off of her for a split second, it’s barely anything, but there’s a gentle breeze and when you turn back Nemuri is gone- leaving you with disappointment and more questions than answers.

Namely, what the fuck.

You had the next two days off, and you were left to wonder- had you done something wrong? The signs felt like they were so clearly there but maybe you had misread them? Maybe Nemuri was just flirty like that, and ran at the first sign of queerness? For the first time in your memory you wish you would get called in so you could ask her about it. But your days off passed quietly, with you just puttering around your house, trying to get everything done that needed to be.

Soon enough you’re there, bright and early, and nervous beyond belief. It feels like it takes all day for Nemuri to show back up, but she arrives- this time right before your shift is over.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing out of her mouth, and damn, it’s hard to stay even a little annoyed when she looks so cute staring at you like that. You find yourself melting, smiling and taking her order- which is your favorite drink, you recommend it to her. When you join her after your shift again she gestures to it. “It’s yours.” Your answering smile is all she needs.

“Tell me about your favorite childhood memory?” Nemuri asks, and you find yourself unable to deny her.

“My mom took us to this mermaid cove place, they have a show with pirates, and mermaids, and singing, and I just remember how happy she was watching it all,” Your eyes grow a little misty thinking about the past, about your mother, “I remember telling her that I was going to be a mermaid one day, just to make her smile like that all the time. I was a very ambitious seven year old.”

“You sound like a good daughter,” Nemuri replies, smiling sweetly at you. “I’m sure your mother is still very happy for you now.”

“She passed,” You manage to choke out, trying hard to sound like you’re okay, “A few years go, but anyways, what about you? Your favorite memory?”

“I’m so sorry,” Nemuri starts, but sees something in your face so when she talks again it’s not about you, “We were down on our luck when I was a child, like everyone was. I was maybe nine or ten at the time- everything we ate was so bland, but it was all we could afford. One day papa came home with an orange- a real orange! We had to split it between everyone but nothing tasted sweeter.” Nemuri isn’t looking at you now- she’s lost in her own thoughts as surely as you’re lost in yours.

“We should talk about happier things,” You say, and Nemuri is nice enough to ignore the sniffle in your voice. “The future, maybe. Where do you see yourself in five years?” She blanches at that, actually, and you feel bad, taking a sip of your drink to focus your thoughts. “You’re right, that was bad. This isn’t a job interview.”

“I just haven’t given it much thought,” Her reply is a little stiff, formal.

“Ah, a live in the moment type of gal?”

“You could say that,” There’s a secret hiding in Nemuri’s smile, one you want to spend as long as she’ll let you trying to figure it out. “What about you? Big future plans?”

“I want to fall in love,” You blurt out, cringing back a little, “That sounds so cheesy. I just want to have a little place, just a little piece of happiness.”

“I don’t think that sounds cheesy at all,” Nemuri assures you, “I think it sounds amazing.” The two of you sit there for another moment, just enjoying each other before the alarm on your phone goes off- half an hour until your therapy appointment. You frown at the reminder, cursing it internally for disrupting your time now. You stand, gathering your things as does Nemuri.

“I have to go, but maybe I could take you out?” There it is again- the blanching, the frown that plays on her lips. “Or is that too fast?”

“We could meet back here?” She slowly suggests, “I live in one of the apartments above?” You’re not sure why she sounds so shy about it but you readily agree anyways- you don’t cherish the idea of coming back here but maybe you’ll get lucky if she’s already inviting you over.

“It’s a date,” You declare, feeling more confident when Nemuri nods in agreement. You bid your farewells and make it home just in time to pick up your therapist’s call- the wonders of telehealth. It’s hard to focus on what your therapist is saying, and she seems to pick up on that.

“I met someone,” You say, suddenly shy. Nemuri is so new, you don’t feel quite comfortable gushing about her yet. “It’s new. We have a date tonight.” There’s not much else to say after that, anyways. After that you’re able to focus just a little bit more, and soon the hour is over, with you promising to tell your therapist all about your date.

There’s still a few hours so you take your time getting ready, trying to find that balance between casual and dressed up. You’ve never felt so nervous for a date before in your life, but then it’s suddenly, somehow, time to leave again.

Nemuri is waiting in front of the shop for you, looking nervous but she lights up when she sees you. You can see a soft glow behind her- the shop is transformed. The door is unlocked, and she mentions something about being friends with the owner again when you lead the pair of you inside.

The main lights are off but there’s fairy lights all over, and the tables pushed out of the way, save for one right in the middle. There’s some take out on it, a Thai place you know you had mentioned earlier today.

“This is all so much,” You gush to Nemuri as you take your seat across from her. She looks perfect, and you tell her as much, just to watch the apples of her cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink. It’s endearing, really, the way she waits for you to serve yourself, how she just watches you, and talks to you. Conversation flows as easily as the wine you brought, though you’re the only one drinking it.

“I thought I had misread the signs,” You confess. “I thought maybe once again I had a crush on a straight girl.”

“I had the same fears,” Nemuri returns, shaking her head a little, a soft strand of black hair falling around her cheek to frame it perfectly. “I know I can be a little unusual and I thought you were simply being kind.”

“Oh, no, I totally wanna fuck you,” You try to keep your voice a little light, teasing, but it comes out damn near a purr and Nemuri’s eyes widen in response. Now, your tipsy mind thinks, now you’ve definitely over stepped and you’ll be reported, and get fired or sued, and your therapist will be so disappointed and-

“It’s good to know we’re on the same page there.” Her words bring you up short, stopping your anxiety spiral before it can even really begin. Nemuri shifts, her eyes going distant when she looks away from you. “Though there is a slight complication here.”

That sends another pang of worry through you- you’re pretty certain Nemuri is perfect, what could complicate sleeping together? A million different scenarios speed through your head all at once, but for the life of you, you’d never be able to predict the next words that come out of her mouth.

“You see, I’m a ghost.” You’d laugh, but her face is kind and serious and all sorts of heart breaking.

“I’m sorry?” Your manners prevail, and you bite back what you want to say, “You think you’re a ghost?”

“I am, I know I am,” Her words hold a note of finality, so much so that you can’t help the next words out of your own- “Alright, then prove it.”

She looks back at you now, catching your eye with a mischievous grin. She stands, but the chair doesn’t move. Nemuri walks, actually walks, through the table, standing right in your food to bend over and brush her lips against yours. It’s like there’s nothing there, only the hint of coldness, something that sends a harsh shiver down your spine.

“Do you believe me now?” She asks when she pulls away.

“I do,” You answer simply, before everything goes dark and you feel yourself slide out of your chair onto the floor, as Nemuri calls your name.

Your eyes flutter open and Nemuri’s face is so close to yours that if she had breath you would be sharing it. You scramble away from her, kicking the chair as you move, and her face falls.

“You- you’re a gh—” You choke on the word as you sputter, unable to get your mind around it. Ghosts aren’t real, your mind distantly supplies, the wine is drugged, or you’re having a stroke, or you fell asleep on the couch but this isn’t- it can’t be real. Nemuri is still frowning at you, kindness in her eyes like she understands. God, how do you even begin to tell your therapist about this? That the girl you have- had- have a crush on is a ghost?

“I have to go,” The words leave your mouth, body twisting as you grab your bag off the floor and run out the door. You think you hear your name being called but you don’t look back, you don’t stop shaking until you’re home, and the door is locked behind you. Your mind doesn’t stop racing, anxiety making your heartbeat loud in your chest.

There’s a pang of regret but all you can think is why, how, what the fuck? Nemuri is a ghost, she walked through a table and kissed you and you ran away. You had work in the morning but it was so hard to think about going back. Would the shop even look the same now to you now? God, had she died there? Is this why she lingered around it? Were her bones buried under your feet as you made rude middle aged women their overpriced lattes?

That thought is enough to have you running to the bathroom, emptying your stomach into the toilet. You slide to the floor again, pressing your forehead against the cool tile to try and stop your reeling brain. You have no idea how to process this now, electing to simply crawl into bed, deciding to call in sick in the morning.

And you do- you call in sick for two days. You curl up in your blankets, and ignore the world outside. You think about the sad look on Nemuri’s face, and it sends another pang through you every time. It’s hard to think of disappointing her again but where do you go from here?

After two days you can’t justify calling in anymore. Your bills need paid, no matter how many ghosts you think you might want to have sex with. You don’t see her your entire shift either, which makes you a little sad, and that surprises you. You hesitate as long as you can, hoping to see her before you head home, but she never shows.

And for the next week you don’t see Nemuri. You brush it off when your therapist asks after her, and try to write it off as maybe a slight psychological break. But then you see her, sitting in a corner, and you notice how the sunlight goes through her now, like she’s fading, like she’s only ever been halfway there.

You don’t acknowledge her until the end of your shift when you whisper, “Tonight. The same time.” There’s no reply but when you glance back she’s gone.

Your hands shake something terrible when you drive back to work after hours. When you arrive this time there’s no grand set up (and you really should ask Nemuri how she did that!) there’s just the table by the window, the same one you first spoke to her at. You don’t even see Nemuri as you walk in, the lights on just enough for you to see.

“Hello?” Your voice echoes around the open space and then all of a sudden she’s right next to you. Materializing out of thin air like, well, like a ghost.

“You’re here,” The word sticks in her mouth, and you feel the pressure of it on you, compelling you to take a seat. You slump in your seat, eyes widening when Nemuri is just there across from you- only she didn’t walk there. She’s just there. Everywhere. The thought makes you dizzy.

“I figured,” You voice is too quiet, you clear your throat, straightening up in your seat, “I figured talking can’t hurt, right?” Nemuri nods, a little too eager. “I don’t have to solve your murder or anything right?”

“Heavens no!” Nemuri sounds scandalized at the thought which brings you little relief. “I died of old age, quietly, in the apartment above here about twenty years ago.”

“But,” Your mind is still reeling from how old she must be, what year her date of birth is, “Why are you here then?” And from the look on her face she knows you don’t just mean why is she in the coffee shop. She doesn’t look at you when she starts her story.

“My father wasn’t a nice man,” She says, a hard line to her words. “He loved me, please don’t misunderstand that, he loved me in the way fathers love their first daughters, which is to say pining a legacy on my shoulders before I know how to walk. He looked at me and saw future generations, saw grandchildren that might share the color of his eyes, the shape of his mouth.

Unfortunately for him the first time I kissed a boy I knew- I couldn’t love him or any man. I couldn’t love anybody the way I loved the girl next door, my roommate in my first apartment, the lovely barista at the coffee shop. I was… wrong in his eyes. I wasn’t the child he had been promised and that broke something inside of him. He asked me to deny myself, if I wouldn’t have a husband then at least, I should have nobody at all.

And I couldn’t deny him that. I died here. I died alone, with regrets, and one big thing tethering me to this ground we sit on. I wanted a love. I want one kiss, with someone who looked at me and saw me and understood me and loved me so much it didn’t matter that I was wrong in my father’s eyes- because I would always be right in theirs.”

You’re crying by the time Nemuri stops talking. Big, fat, salty tears make their way down your face. Your nose is running too, and with shaky hands you move to wipe your face off with a napkin. You can’t imagine Nemuri’s life the way she described it. Your mother had hugged you tightly when you came out, had set you up with the daughters of friends, had held your hand in hers on her deathbed and told you to love as much as possible.

But Nemuri, sweet and kind and loving, had been denied that because it was the wrong time? The wrong place? The wrong family? It broke your heart to think of decades alone, closing her eyes that final time knowing there was nobody waiting on the other side.

“I’m sorry,” You gasp out, trying to stop yourself from crying more, “I’m so sorry I ran off, I didn’t even give you a chance!”

“You’re giving me a chance now,” Your heart breaks a little more at how kind she still sounds, “And you’re not running. I don’t see fear in your eyes. I see acceptance, and understanding.”

“And love,” You say with some finality. It’s hard not to love someone like Nemuri, and how could you not love her now? She’s laid her soul in front of you, and all you want to do is hold her hand. You reach out, placing yours palm up on the table. She’s hesitant, but then her hand rests in yours and you can feel her- warm and vibrant and alive. She’s solid when you look back up at her. Holding her hand in yours, you move around the table, bringing your face level to hers.

“I love you, Nemuri,” You tell her, watching as tears gather in the corner of her eyes, “And I won’t stop until my dying day.”

When your lips meet hers this time you feel them, the first and best kiss she’ll ever give you, and there’s a soft exhale from her that your greedily swallow down. When your eyes open again she’s gone, but you know that’s okay.

Somewhere, she’s happier.

Your life moves on after that.

It’s weird- you think going back to the coffee shop might feel awkward but it doesn’t. You swear you can hear her laughter in the ringing of the bells over the door, feel her touch as it stops you from burning yourself on something hot. She’s everywhere and nowhere- just the simple, calming presence of an old lover.

You meet a girl, two, three, before the fourth one finally sticks. It doesn’t feel like betrayal, not when your first kiss with her happens because an invisible force pushes you forward and into her arms. Sue, your wife, is lovely and understanding, even when you drag her to a cemetery, and introduce her to a grave holding a person you couldn’t know, given that the gravestone held a death date of when you were five.

She doesn’t question it when she finds you talking aloud sometimes, to thin air, to a person who’s name she’s only even seen on that gravestone. Sue holds you tight on your worst nights and lifts you higher on your best. Every kiss with her is full of life, of love, of a happiness you find yourself thinking you’re sharing with one other person. You give everything you have to Sue, save one little corner of your heart.

You move away, you move on from that small town and everything that held you down there. Your life flourishes out, it’s more than you ever could have dreamed of, your happiness so much that you’re not sure how your heart handles it. Every little victory feels dedicated to her, to the one ghost you’ve never been able to exorcise but that’s okay, more than, because you know Nemuri loves you still, wants you to be happier just for her.

And you know it too, when you close your own eyes for that one final time, and her voice calls to you from somewhere, far off in the distance.

[ffakc]

Isn’t She Lovely? - a Jeffrey Dean Morgan fanfiction

Let me preface this by saying I have ZERO desire to have kids IRL, but the thought of Jeff being a loving, doting birth partner makes me feel warm and fuzzy. He’s also such an amazing Daddy, I just had to... fluff galore! @negans-attagirl @happysgal @iluvneganandjamie

It was my final shift as a manager at the adorable Rhinebeck coffee shop that was my home for the past year. My regulars and coworkers teased me, asking why I still had a job despite being married to one of the top grossing actors on The Walking Dead, but working kept my mind busy during the times my Jeffrey was away. I was also three days overdue with our daughter. My midwife told me to rest, but it’s hard to rest when people call in sick!

“Baby!” I step out from behind the counter and greet my husband with a kiss. He places his large hand on my stomach.

“Look how cute my gal is with her apron and her big ol’ belly,” Jeff gushes.

“Why do you have to say it like that?” I laugh. Jeff scoffs and kisses me.

“Shut up, you’re gorgeous,” he smiles. “You about ready to go, doll?”

“If I don’t see you tomorrow, congratulations! You’re going to be a great mom!” my regular Josh tips his cup.

“Bye Josh!” I turn back to Jeffrey, “Yeah, I’m ready whenever you are. I just need to clock out for the last time.”

“We’ll miss you, Boss Lady!” my lead barista Kayla hugs me.

“I’ll miss you too!” I reply, “Bye, everyone!” I call back to the kitchen. Various voices yell back kind words. Kayla wipes a tear away.

“Aww, don’t cry!” I say, tears welling up, “You know I’ll come visit! I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“It’s been wonderful getting to know you, Kayla,” Jeff hugs her as well.

I take my husband by the hand and we make our way to his truck.

“Do you think tonight will be the night?” Jeff remarks.

“I sure hope so. I’m so achy and I feel like my stomach is going to split open,” I laugh.

“Poor thing,” Jeff pouts his lip and rubs my belly. “What do you want for dinner, sweet girl?”

“I’ve been craving sushi all damn day. Cooked, of course,” I reply. I make a quick call to Osaka, our favorite local Japanese place. I hang up the phone and sigh lovingly, “You’re going to be such a good Daddy.”

“And you’ll be the best Mama. I love you so much,” my husband plants a quick kiss on my lips.

***

I wipe the tears away as the music swells. We were watching Phantom of the Opera, one of my favorites. I let out and annoyed groan and Jeff cackles.

“Why are you crying now?!” my husband laughs, “It’s not even sad!” I shove a piece of sushi in my mouth.

“I don’t know!” I giggle, “Stupid pregnancy hormones.” Jeff places his hand on top of the bulge on my side.

“It’s like I’m holding her hand,” Jeff kisses around my navel, “I love my girls.” His kisses make their way up my chest, his hand makes its way through my hair and he sucks my neck.

“We love you too, Daddy,” I moan. Jeff climbs on top of me and I kiss him deeply, gripping onto the neck of his hoodie.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this, might induce labor,” my husband smirks and rests his forehead against mine.

“I’ve heard that’s a myth. I want you so bad, Jeffrey,” I lick my lips and run my fingers through his gray hair. Jeff rasps my name, unbuttoning his jeans. I feel a surge of energy in my lower half as Jeff buries his face in my chest. My eyes widen as clear liquid begins pooling between my thighs. I realize immediately what’s happening.

“Jeff...”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“JEFFREY!” I exclaim and gesture downwards.

“Wha- OH! Oh my god! Baby... baby! We’re having a baby!” he stammers, climbing off of me and adjusts my shirt. “What do I do?!” I attempt to calm him, even though I’m quite panicked myself.

“Go get the bag and start the truck!” I breathe heavily. Jeff puts on his glasses and grabs my large black backpack, slinging it over his shoulder.

“I’m so excited! It’s real! It’s happening!” Jeff laughs. He helps me off the couch and we hustle to the truck. Jeff calls my mom as he lays a towel on the passenger seat.

“Hey Ma!”

“Hey Jeff, how are you? Any baby updates?”

“Well... You’re going to be a grandma probably within the next 24 hours!”

“Oh my god!” my mom sounded just like her mother when she said that. I squeeze Jeff’s hand as he speeds down the road.

“Let me see here,” Jeff pulls up flights on the touch screen on the dashboard.

“Eyes on the road, Daddy, please!” I exclaim, “Hi, Mom! Sorry!” I hear both my parents laugh at me, causing me to laugh too. I sounded like a nervous wreck.

“Hi! Are you feeling okay? Any contractions yet?”

“Not yet, from what I looked up... woah! I felt a little cramping there.”

“I see a five hour flight that leaves in three hours. Do you think y’all can manage that?” Jeff says, “I will pay, don’t you worry.”

“Anything for my first grandbaby,” my mom says. “I can’t guarantee we’ll be there for the birth, but we will be there! See you guys soon, okay?”

“Bye!” Jeff and I say in unison.

***

Four in the morning. I hadn’t slept a wink. Labor so far felt like the worst period cramps I’ve ever had. I was only two centimeters, a hell of a long way from ten.

“Jeffrey,” I whimper, my voice cracking, “It hurts.”

“I know, baby, I know. What can I do to help?” Jeff gets close to my face and kisses my forehead, rubbing my hand.

“Something cold would be wonderful. Ice chips, a popsicle. Anything.”

“How about a coffee?” a familiar voice comes from the door.

“You made it,” I smile weakly at my mom.

“No baby, huh? We DID make it!” my dad smiles and pumps his arm in a “YES!” hand gesture. He hugs his son in law and hands him a large Starbucks cup. He hugs me, kissing my forehead.

“Good, Mr. C. Real good,” my husband smiles, sipping the hot coffee.

“Don’t worry, I asked and she said it was fine,” I sit up in bed and hug my mom. She hands me a large iced beverage, “It’s a decaf americano with some Splenda, just something to sip on. I know you like a little bit of coffee with your cream, but you can’t have that right now.”

“Thank you so much,” I take a long drink. “That’s so good... God damn it!” I grit my teeth.

“Another one?” Jeff sits next to me on the bed. “I think they’re close to five minutes apart,” he says to my parents. I rest my head on his chest and groan loudly, “That’s it, pretty girl. Let it out. Scream if you have to. Break my fucking hand if you have to. You’re doing amazing so far.”

“This is the longest thirty sec- ah! Jeffrey!” I grip onto his thigh for dear life. He shushes me softly and rests his chin on my forehead, “I hate my mom and dad seeing me like this.” My mom reassures me that it’s nothing to be embarrassed about and her and my dad go to the waiting room. I try my best to remember the breathing techniques our midwife taught me, but failing miserably. This was going to be a long day.

***

Eight o’ clock. The rays of sun came flooding through the curtain. I close my eyes for a moment as another contraction squeezes me tight.

“Don’t say you’re tired. Come on, Jeff. She’s having your kid and you’re worried about being ti-“ Jeff mumbles to himself.

“You know you’re allowed to be tired too,” I laugh and look at him through slitted eyelids. Jeff smiles and kisses my cheek, rubbing my hand lovingly.

“Hello!” our midwife Lynn pokes her head in.

“Please tell me I’m ready to push,” I let out a deep breath.

“Well, let’s see, shall we?” Lynn checks me out. “Don’t hit me,” she chuckles. “You’re only at four centimeters.”

“Oh, Jesus. Just give me the damn drugs.” I glance over at my husband who is drifting off.

“I have to let you know that it will make your contractions stronger and more intense, and I know you’ve expressed being in a great deal of pain already.” Jeff opens his eyes.

“Fuck it, I’ll just sit on the ball for a bit. Daddy?” I turn to Jeff. He grabs the exercise ball.

“I’ll be back soon. Hopefully things will be progressing nicely!”

***

Six in the evening. There’s no possible way I had been in labor for twenty-four hours.

“You’re getting so close, doll,” Jeff whispers and pets my hair. “You’re so strong, Mama, you’re so damn strong. You’re a beautiful, incredible, powerful woman,” Lynn does a brief examination.

“That’s the kind of coaching we like to hear, Jeff! Good vibes only!” Lynn says, “Look at that. You are at a ten, my dear!” I fan my face and a single tear trickles down Jeff’s bearded cheek. I kiss him deeply. I place my feet in the stirrups. “Jeff, are you still okay with catching her? I know you said you wanted to, but sometimes dads back out at the last minute,” Lynn teases.

“Absolutely,” Jeff chuckles.

“All right, sweetheart. On your next contraction, I want you to push hard, okay?” she was so gentle with her words. I nod and exhale. Jeff grips my hand.

“You’ve got this, babe,” my husband kisses me.

The next forty-five minutes fly by and seem to go in slow motion all at the same time. I felt like I had run a thousand marathons.

“I can see her head!” Jeff says excitedly. “You’re almost there, darlin’, you’re so close!” I can’t find the words, the pain is getting to be unbearable.

“I’m going to pass out,” I moan.

“Come on, doll, you’ve got this. You’re doing incredible,” my husband glances between my thighs. “Oh my, she has your wavy hair,” tears stain his cheeks.

“I’m going to guess three more biiiig pushes and you’ll have a baby!” Lynn says.

“You’re so incredible, you’re a fucking warrior, you know that? These are the last few moments we have as just a couple, that’s so wild. After today, we are three. You’re never looked more beautiful, you are glowing. Kiss me, my gorgeous wife,” I feebly press my lips to his.

“Yeah...” I pant, “Oh my fucking god!” I cry out as my face reddens as I push with everything I have in me.

“That’s it! Jeff, quickly, the shoulders are coming!” My husband plants a kiss on my cheek and sits on a stool next to Lynn.

“One... two... three! Push! Come on, girlfriend! Every ounce of energy you have! Good job!” Lynn psyches me up. She mumbles instructions to Jeffrey.

Jeff begins to sob uncontrollably, “She’s so beautiful, you have no idea.” He gasps in awe. Suddenly, a rush of euphoria overtakes my whole body and a loud cry echoes through the room. I rest my head against the pillow and begin crying my eyes out. She’s here! Jeff holds our tiny daughter in his large hands.

“Just place her right there,” Lynn beams with pride. “You did it! Happy birthday, little girl!” She grabs some blankets as our little angel wails. I wrap my arms around her and Jeff bends down next to me.

“You’re so amazing, Mama. She’s so perfect. I love her, I love you. You are such a badass, I’m so proud of you,” Jeff whispers.

“I love you too, Jeffrey. Daddy, she’s all ours,” I kissed him over and over again, “I love you so, so, so much.” I had never felt more connected to my husband than this exact moment. After cleaning her off and doing all the routine checks, I finally get to hold our girl.

“Hi there, little bean,” I kiss the top of her head, my voice shot from crying and screaming, “I’m your Mommy,” I hold her tiny hand, “You look just like your Daddy. And you smell so good!”

“I’ve heard of new car smell, but new baby smell?” Jeff giggles.

“Do we have a name?” Lynn asks.

“Evelyn,” Jeff sniffs and kisses the crown of her head, “Evelyn Alice Morgan.”

[boxoftheskyking]

Pick Up Every Piece, Part Three

This chapter is rated M, warning for PTSD, alcohol, war, probably a bunch of other stuff.

Wei Ying and the important gals in his life. 

(You know when you’re trying to do a style thing and then you’re like Maybe I just don’t Get Prose? this is one of those times.)

Part One, Part Two

--

Wei Ying is having a hard time breathing, but he doesn’t really mind. His face is shoved into his pillow and Wen Qing’s elbow is digging into the right side of his spine in a way that he thinks might bruise later. Just when he’s about to cry uncle, she lets up and sweeps the heels of her palms down to his waist, and it’s so good a few tears come out.

It’s a sunny Saturday afternoon with nowhere to be, and he’s just a body on a bed with his best friend, not a thought in the world.

“What is this one anyway?” she asks, pressing her thumb into a spot on the right side of his spine, just below where his waistband would be if he were wearing anything.

He turns his head and spits out the pillow. “Huh? Which?”

“This little one.” She rubs it again.

He thinks over his tattoos; there’s seven on his back, if he’s remembering right, scattered around in blacks and reds.

“Oh, the goat?”

“That’s a goat ?”

“Yeah.”

She rubs over it again. “From which angle is that supposed to be a goat?”

He props his chin up on his arm. “Have you not noticed it before?”

She squirts out some more lotion and starts working on his lower back. He doesn’t moan, because Wen Qing says she hates it when clients moan, and even though he’s not a client, he does try to be polite.

“I’ve never paid much attention to it.”

“Clearly you need to pay more attention to my ass.”

He tries to wiggle the ass in question, and she pinches him. Which is fair.

“Be nice. That’s my prison tattoo.”

“Your prison tattoo.”

“Yeah. I was in prison, so I had to get a prison tattoo.”

She scoffs. “You were in prison for like a year.”

He was, technically, in prison for a year. That’s what it says on his record. Right after leaving Gusu, on the road to Yiling, he got drunk and fought a cop, and a year was the best his brother’s influence could get him. As far as everyone knows, he served his time, annoyed the life out of hardened criminals, and went on his merry way.

Everything else that happened that year, that’s between him and Jin Guangyao and the dead.

“I can’t believe you got a stick and poke in prison.” Wen Qing is doing her judgy voice, which unfortunately always gets him hard. Well, harder. It’s some kind of automatic response—he never paid enough attention in the one psych class he took in college, so he doesn’t know the right word for it. At the moment it’s just uncomfortable because she’s got him pressed down into the mattress

“Lots of people get them,” he says, a little defensive. “I paid for it, too.”

“Do I want to know how?”

“Two weeks of my meat rations and a blow job.”

“Wei Ying.”

“What, the guy was cute.”

She sighs, judgmentally. “Why a goat?”

“He said that’s the only thing he knew how to draw.”

“Well he lied to you. You could’ve gotten an infection. On your ass.”

“He was very clean. Cleanest guy I ever sucked off behind a dryer, and that’s saying something.”

She snorts at him and then digs her knuckles into the meat of his ass, scooting down so she’s sitting on his legs. She’s just in her underwear; he can feel the soft insides of her thighs against his calves.

“So I don’t pay enough attention to your ass, huh?” she asks, pinching him again.

He hums.

“We could, you know, do more of that.” She sounds carefully disinterested, going to town on his glutes but not pushing in any other way.

He swallows. “Um. Maybe.” He’s blushing for some reason, but the pillows hide it.

“Cool. Turn over?”

This means the sex part is going to start, which is great since he’s been ready to go for the past half hour. The massage part is equally great, and he really needs it. He knows he’s the luckiest person in the entire world, because his best friend happened to have a massage and acupuncture certification as her fallback degree after he ruined her life. He’s doubly lucky that she still speaks to him, never mind has sex with him sometimes. Add in free massages and he’s basically won every lottery in the country.

He’s tried to return the favor, but she can get better from her coworkers, so he just pays her back in orgasms. Orgasms and journalistic brilliance, when he can manage it.

He turns over and she settles back over him, shifting his dick around so she’s comfortable, making him bite his lip almost bloody. She drives her knuckles in the front of his shoulders until he hisses.

“Are you doing the stretches I gave you?”

“Yeah. Sometimes.”

“So, only on the days that I remind you.”

He pouts. “Ow! Yes. Which is sometimes.”

She grinds her hips down on him so he chokes on his own spit. He tries to reach up to kiss her, suddenly very ready to move things along, but she leans over him and presses all her weight down on his shoulders. He tries to push her up, but he doesn’t have the core strength.

“Mean,” he whines. “Mean, mean, mean.”

“You like mean.”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

She lets him up and grinds back down. “Hm. You really like mean.”

He catches her then, she lets him, and they lazily make out for a while. This is the best part about hooking up with his best friend. He’s not worried about being smooth or clever or impressive, he’s just enjoying the softness of her skin and her hips and the underside of her arms, the small but solid weight on top of him, her sharp teeth. Way back at the beginning—in college, when she was his kind-of advisor—he was always so bewildered that she was interested in him, always trying to do twelve things at once, to prove to her he was worth it, that he could be amazing. Calm down, kid, she’d laugh at him, pinning his arms over his head.

Now they just roll around, warm and comfortable in an angled patch of sunlight, heading vaguely towards sex.

“Hey,” she says, a little breathless as he sucks on her ear. “Can I sit on your face?”

“Fuck. Yes. Please.”

“Awesome.”

She crawls off him to take her underwear off. “Lan Ziyi never lets me sit on her face.”

Wei Ying laughs. “That’s what you get for dating a Lan.”

“We’re not dating . We’re just—hanging out.”

“Whatever. They’re all repressed.” He feels a flash of guilt. “Not repressed. Logical. It’s an illogical activity.”

“She’s good at other stuff.”

He doesn’t have to respond; she crawls up and settles on his chest, running her finger over his bottom lip. “Comfortable?” she asks.

He tugs her closer in response and sets to work. It’s one of his favorite activities, the overwhelm of it, being held down. He’s always trying to be steps ahead, to be good at things, to be vigilant, but when she’s riding his mouth and his chin and his tongue he forgets all of it and surrenders to the heat, the wet, the rhythm of her.

“Fuck, I’m gonna drown,” he mumbles against her.

“Huh?” she gasps, lifting herself up.

“I’m gonna drown.”

“What a way to go, though.” She smiles down at him, red-faced and panting, one hand against the wall, the other tugging at her nipple.

“Fuck yes.” He yanks her back down with a growl and loves the way her laugh gets broken by a groan.

“Can you scratch my back?” she asks. He reaches up and runs his nails lightly down her sides. “I mean hard. Can you scratch me hard?”

He reaches up her back as high as he can and rakes his nails down. She shudders on top of him.

“Thank you,” she gasps, and he blacks out for a moment.

He’s always had an unexplored thing for being thanked in bed. That one psych professor—or the doctors at the hospital that one time—would probably say something about his childhood, his desperate need for approval. In reality it probably has more to do with that one night in college, Lan Zhan pressed between him and the wall, panting “ Thank you, thank you ” into his ear.

Wen Qing slams her hand on the wall when she comes, sweet and hot over his lips. He imagines himself dripping with it, down his neck and his chest to his feet, soaking into his skin. She pulls away after a minute and shifts back down over him, kissing his whole face, his cheeks, licking him clean.

“Good?” he asks.

“Mmm,” is all she says, but it’s enough to make him preen a little.

She reaches over to his bedside drawer and grabs a condom, and he’s suddenly reminded of how painfully hard he is. After nearly an hour of ignoring it he’s certain he’ll pass out the second she touches him.

He doesn’t, but he does grab her hips and shut his eyes. When she sinks down on him—one smooth slide—his breath punches out and he surges up to hold onto her, to hold onto something. It’s fast and inelegant from there, loud and jerky and ragged and so incredibly good. She throws her head back when she comes again and he buries his face in her chest as he follows—a long, shaking, suspended moment.

After, he collapses back onto the pillows and she goes to the bathroom. The massage and the orgasm catch up with him and he’s nearly asleep by the time she comes back. She doesn’t leave, though, just pulls her underwear back on and curls around him. It’s got to be close to  five o’clock and they’re framed by the lowering sunlight, warm and golden.

“Sleep?” he mumbles. She shushes him and pulls up the blanket and he’s out.

A lake, a raft. Lotus flowers. Someone beside him, tapping his arm. A river, narrowing. Wind. Yanli talking behind him, saying . . . Trees by the riverbank, branches growing toward him, twisting, sharp fingernails inches from his skin. He’s standing in the mud. Alone. Not alone. Feet sunk into the mud, up to his ankles. Dry creek bed. Flies. A dozen people standing, frozen, staring at him. Eyes so wide, he can see the whites all the way around. Flies on their faces, crawling into their eyes. Darkness rising like a cloud, like fingers, grasping. He reaches out—

“Wei Ying!”

“— looked. I just looked. I just looked at them. I just looked .”

“Wei Ying! Stop, stop, Wei Ying.”

He throws himself off the bed, gasping, crouching against the wall, nails digging into his arms. His throat is aching, he’s been shouting.

“You’re okay,” Wen Qing says carefully. Her hands are held out to him like he’s a wild dog, something that could bite her.

“I’m okay,” he says, rough, wiping at his face.

“You’re back.”

“Yeah. Fuck.” He digs his fists into his eyes for a moment, pressing hard enough to see a starburst of light. “Fuck, fuck. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” It’s not, it’s really not, he can hear it in her voice.

He sits back on the bed and runs his fingers through his hair. Wen Qing wraps herself in the blanket, watching him.

“I’m okay.”

She nods.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No. No, it’s not that.” She looks away, blinks hard. “You were saying— You know, you were saying it again. Same thing.”

“Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I know. It’s not your fault.” She’s not looking at him, though, and where she holds onto the blanket her knuckles are white.

“Fuck,” he says again, like that can cover it, everything he owes her.

“It’s fine.” Her voice is tight. It always happens like this, his hurt doesn’t line up with hers, they’re not in unison. He covers one of her hands with his. She holds it, rubs her thumb over the back of it, where it’s rough and patchy. He’s not sure if it actually helps, feeling the scars, but it’s the best thing he has to say, Look, it already happened, it’s over.

She lets him go and goes into the bathroom. He flops down and holds a pillow over his face. It’s not as good a weight as her body, but it keeps him in one place and not breathing and it’s nice for a moment.

There was a time, in the direct aftermath of the war and the Bad Time, where he thought maybe they’d get back together. That maybe they had complementary damage, that their ripped out parts might fit and close up. But they hurt each other—unintentionally, but his shattered edges always cut her. Sometimes he lashes out in his sleep. And even when he doesn’t, it’s a chain reaction. He gets set off and reacts and it activates all the bad memories in her. It’s why she doesn’t spend the night anymore, why they never moved back in together after he got back from the hospital five years ago.

Five years. It should all be scar tissue by now. Nothing should be raw, pulsing, bleeding anymore.

What’s wrong with them, that they still bleed?

By the time she comes out he’s in his boxers and t-shirt again, fishing under the bed.

She sits down next to him, face wet and toweled dry, and tugs his comb through her hair. He pulls a half-empty bottle out from under the bed.

“You want?” He takes a sip from it.

“What’s that?”

“Bedroom whiskey.”

She raises her eyebrow. “To go with the desk whiskey and the couch whiskey?”

“And the bike whiskey, yes.” He gives her a salute. “Always be prepared.”

She rolls her eyes, but takes the bottle and drinks.

He stretches, twisting his spine. He tenses up so bad after a nightmare, it sucks when it happens after massage and sex. “You know,” he says. “There was a few weeks, back this summer, when I got sick anytime I drank. Like sick to my stomach, indigestion.”

“Probably had a bug.”

“Yeah. It freaked me out, though.” He takes another drink.

“Because you thought you’d have to quit?”

“No. ‘Cause I thought I didn’t like it anymore. Like listening to your favorite song and all of a sudden the singer’s off key. It was . . . unsettling. I didn’t really know what to do instead. It passed, though.”

“It’s gonna come bite you.”

“Someday, yeah.”

Her hair untangled, she gets up and goes to his closet. “Is my red sweater still here?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

She digs around. The right side of his closet is all hers—not a ton of clothes, just a collection of years of days like this.

“Plans?” he asks.

“I’m having dinner with Ziyi.”

“Aren’t you popular?” he teases.

“You should get out there. You know. Date around.”

He snorts and lays back down. “I’m not made for relationships.”

She stops digging through the closet and looks at him. “Wei Ying, you are tailor made for relationships. You were made in a lab, specifically, for a relationship.”

“If that was true I’d have more of them.”

“No. Your problem—”

“Oh, here we go.”

“Your problem is you’re so obsessed with being a partner, you never put any work into finding a partner. You just throw all this partner energy at people and they don’t know what to do with it.”

He throws his arm over his face.

“I’m right.” He can’t see her but he imagines she’s waving her finger at him like a grandma. “You just want to be dropped into a relationship three years in. You want to wake up with a spouse and kid and a mortgage payment due on Monday. You don’t want to do the awkward beginning stuff.”

He squints over at her. “I did it with you.”

She sighs. “A long time ago.”

“Yeah, but—”

“In the literal eighties , Wei Ying.”

He sighs. “You should wear the black sparkly thing.”

“Hmm.” She considers him like she might keep pushing, then lets it go. “The dress?” She pulls it out, holds it up thoughtfully. “Nah, it’s too cold. I don’t feel like wearing tights.”

She pulls on her jeans and the sweater, then twirls her hair up in a bun. He kind of wants to tell her to wear it down, or to ask if he can braid it. But it looks good like this, swept up, showing off her neck. It makes him want to kiss it, so it’s an effective style for a date.

“You look good,” he says. She smiles at him then, a real one, and things feel settled again. She gives him a kiss before she goes.

“Tomorrow night,” she says, pointing at him from the doorway. “I want that column and I want two new proposals for next week.”

“Sir yes sir.”

She snorts and goes. He takes another drink and then tucks the bottle back under the bed.

He goes out to his desk in the living room and pokes around at his column for a while—the beginning and the end are there, but he’s missing a connection in the middle. He’s rambling about cultivation again, potential civilian applications if the government ever allowed real scientists to study it. It’ll piss people off, particularly Jin Zixuan, but it’s his column and he’s used to it.

He accepts that he’s definitely stuck and goes to the kitchen to grab the phone. He’s old-fashioned, still not switched to cordless, so he hops up on the kitchen counter and twirls the cord as he listens to the ringer.

“ Hello! ” Yanli’s voice, cheerful and musical. “ Thank you for calling Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli! Oh! And little A-Ling! ” she laughs. “ We’re not available at the moment, but please leave a message with your phone number and we’ll be sure to call you back. Take care, we will speak to you soon! ”

He smiles and leans his head against the fridge.

“Hi Jiejie! I just wanted to hear your voice. A-Cheng went back to Yunmeng this week, so I’m all alone. Well, I’m not all alone, Wen Qing was just here. Do you remember when we all played that game—what was it? That card game. And you and Wen Qing just destroyed us. Jin Zixuan was so angry, it was so funny. How is A-Ling? Did he already read the books I sent him for his birthday? I’m sure he is a good reader with such a smart mama. Does he remember me? I know I haven’t visited . . . Well, I better go. Zixuan hates when I use up all the tape, I know. He’s so grumpy, your husband! That’s why he and A-Cheng get along so well. I’m all alone without you here.” He shuts his eyes, feels the cool of the fridge against his cheek. “Okay. I love you, Jiejie. Bye.”

He hops down and hangs up, contemplates a drink. Decides against it, which is some form of progress, probably.

He’s finally worked out the middle of the column when his buzzer goes. He blinks over at the window—somehow night fell, a while ago. The buzzer goes again, in rhythm. Bzzzzz bzt bzt bzt bzzzzzz.

“Yeah, yeah,” he yells, not that she can hear him. He doesn’t bother with the intercom, just buzzes her in and goes back to the computer. A-Qing slams the door open just as he’s triple-saving and digging around for a floppy to backup. He keeps everything saved in a couple of places now. He’s learned.

“Hey, kid,” he says.

She grunts at him and dumps her backpack on the ground, kicks off her shoes. The futon is more hers than his at this point, and she’s not shy about flopping down.

“Hungry?” he asks, tucking the backup of his backup into the hidden file on the bookshelf.

“I could eat.” Her voice sounds younger than she is. He’s not sure if it’s intentional, part of the act, or if she’ll just sound like a little kid her whole life.

“Want a shower?”

She sniffs at her armpit and scratches at her scalp. “Yeah, okay.”

She never asks for anything beyond the futon. When she stays with him, she never asks for food, for the shower, for an extra blanket or a sweatshirt. For the first month or so he never thought to offer anything until one night he was still working and she was asleep and her stomach growled so loudly he thought it was a dog. Since then he’s learned how to offer, to set things out in front of her to take if she wants.

He calls in their usual order and starts flipping through his stack of newspapers while she showers. He gets as many as he can from as far afield as will deliver to Yiling. He always reads the Gusu Herald first, old time’s sake. He makes a few notes on his steno pad, a couple stories that might lead somewhere interesting or might have a local angle. No one bothers to cover this far West, no one but him and Wen Qing, but there are a couple of national stories he might be able to work with.

A-Qing comes out in a pair of Wen Qing’s sweats and an old sweater of his, which is like a dress on her. He keeps a clean towel and something comfortable on the hamper in the bathroom every day, just in case. Her hair is wet and stringy around her face, she looks so little.

They ignore each other until the food comes. Sometimes she’s quiet and solitary, turning away from him and going to sleep. But sometimes, on a good day, after a little decompression time, she wants to talk.

“Whatcha writing about?” she asks around a mouthful of noodles.

“Mm. Not sure yet. Just finished my column for the week. About cultivation.”

“Again.”

He sticks out his tongue at her. “You want to read it?”

She doesn’t answer. He does this sometimes, pokes at her, tries to get her to admit she’s faking the blindness. She never really does. Six months ago, back at the beginning, he’d experimented with leaving the lights on, waiting for her to ask or turn them off herself, but she never did. It’s not that she doesn’t trust him. At least, he doesn’t think that’s it. She wouldn’t sleep in his apartment if she didn’t trust him. Probably.

There was one time he came stumbling out of his room after a nightmare, before he had bedroom whiskey, scrambling for a bottle and crying through the phantom pain in his arms and hands. She’d stood up and come over to him, keeping a wary distance but not scared.

“You look terrible,” she’d said. He’d snorted around his mouthful and gotten whiskey up his nose and choked and she’d laughed at him.

She has nightmares too, but they don’t bother each other too much. So the partial blindness or completely fake blindness or whatever it is ends up just another thing they don’t talk about.

Now he considers her as they eat. “You go to school this week?”

She shrugs. “A little bit. It’s boring. They keep me at the back, there’s nothing to do. Teacher Wang keeps saying they’re getting a classroom aide for me, when they have the budget. I’ll be gone before then.”

“Where will you go?”

She shrugs again. “Dunno. Nowhere. Not school.” She drops her empty takeout container on the coffee table and flops down on the futon, propping her feet up on the back. She grabs a pen from the table and starts spinning it through her fingers, deft and controlled, not looking at it. Times like this he remembers what a good pickpocket she is.

He cleans up and gets an orange and a knife from the kitchen.

“Does it help getting what you need?” he asks casually, slicing it. “Being blind, I mean.”

“Kind of.” He hands her an orange slice and she eats it thoughtfully, licking the juice off her fingers. “I’m old now.”

He snorts. She glares over at him.

“I am. When you’re a kid, a little kid, people give you stuff because they feel bad, because you’re small. Because you’re cute, or you’re pitiful. Nobody wants to give anything to a teenager. I look like a teenager now, I think.” She looks over at him.

“I guess. You’re still pretty small.”

“How old were you?”

“When I was on the street? Really small. I got adopted at like six, I think. My birthday’s made up, so I’ve never been sure.”

“I got adopted when I was six, too.”

He stops slicing. “You had a family?”

She nods. “It didn’t last.” He gives her another slice. “When you’re little, and they catch you, people will smack you around, but a teenager—people want to teach you a lesson. People want to give you a limp or something, a scar maybe. Set an example.”

His instinct is to ask Who? and then head out with a bat, but he stamps it down. He remembers the slaps, the kicks, the dogs. But he was tiny and smiley, and no one wanted him hurt badly, not really. They just wanted him gone.

“But being blind helps?” He hands her another orange slice. She sticks it in her mouth and smiles around the peel.

“Mm-hmm.” She chews. “For now. But I’m getting too old. I’ll have to get a baby or something.”

His knife slips. “Fucking—” He sticks his bleeding thumb in his mouth and points the knife at her. “Do not get a baby.”

She purses her lips. “It’s one of the best things you can do. People always give to a baby. Babies are a great distraction.”

“Yeah, but then you have to feed it and take care of it. Never mind getting —” he waves the thought away, too disturbing. “It’d be a wash. Babies are expensive.”

“Is that why you don’t have any? Too broke?”

“Ha ha.”

She scoots so her hair is hanging off the edge of the futon, kicking her feet up on the wall.

“Don’t digest upside down,” he scolds, sounding like Ms. Yu. “You’ll puke.” He goes to the bathroom for a band-aid.

“What if you could rent a baby? Like just for a couple hours? Do you think people do that?”

He pokes his head out of the bathroom. “You could just get a really convincing puppet.”

She laughs, loud and delighted. She’s missing a couple of back teeth, which he can only see when she actually laughs.

He straightens up the towels, the bottles she knocked over, and moves to put his comb away. “Do you want—” he clears his throat and goes to the door. “I could braid your hair. If you want.”

She stops laughing and looks at him.

“It won’t tangle, then. If you want.”

She considers him, then turns right-side up. “You know how to braid?”

“Yeah. It’s not hard.”

“Okay.” She plops down on the ground. He comes and settles behind her. It’s weird to be this close, suddenly, but she’s not tense or uncomfortable, picking at the fibers in his shitty old rug.

“Do you have a tie?” She holds up her wrist to show him the rubber band. “Okay, scootch up a bit.”

He starts combing her hair from the bottom, careful not to pull.

“It was my uncle who taught me. How to braid my jiejie’s hair.”

“You had an uncle?”

He hums. “Yeah. He adopted me. I guess technically his wife did too, but she wasn’t really like my auntie. I think maybe I called her Auntie when I was really little, but . . . I don’t know. I’ve got a bad memory.”

“My memory’s really good.” She says it seriously, like it’s an admission of something.

“Yeah, I bet.”

A silence settles, but not a bad one. He can feel her breathing where she’s leaning against his shins. It’s nice, alive. It reminds him oddly of when A-Ling was first born, the first night Yanli let him babysit by himself. The hours he spent humming little songs, rocking him, smelling his head, listening to his snuffles and squeaks, watching him dream. The warm weight against his chest. Like a fresh baked potato , he’d told Yanli, and she’d laughed.

Suddenly, quietly, she speaks. “I had a family.”

He waits, combs.

“I had two uncles. And a cat.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. They adopted me when I was six.”

“Was it good? Having uncles?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He starts braiding, trying something complicated to make it last longer. He always liked people playing with his hair.

“They weren’t bullshitters. Sometimes the foster families are so full of it. They act like they’re going to keep you forever even when they know they’re not. I don’t like those. They’re worse than the children’s home, or the ones who just ignore you.”

He waits.

“They weren’t like that. Uncle Song always called me Little Shit.”

Wei Ying grins. “Suits you.”

“The cat was named Little Pig.” She runs her thumb over the corner of the coffee table where the wood’s worn down. “Uncle Xiao was blind.”

He pauses. “Really?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Is that how you learned?”

She shrugs. “I guess. He was good at everything. People would try to do stuff for him all the time, but he never needed help. Sometimes he’d let them, so they’d feel good. That’s what he told me. He said sometimes you have to let people help you, even if you don’t need it, because sometimes people need to help someone.”

“Sounds smart.”

“Yeah, he was smart. Uncle Song said he was too nice.”

“Ms. Yu used to say that about my uncle, too. She always said people were going to take advantage of him.”

She laughs. “That’s what Uncle Song would say.”

He undoes the braid and starts over.

“Did your uncle die in the war?” She asks it quietly, chewing on her fingernail.

“Yeah. My aunt, too. He worked in the government, and Qishan came to Yunmeng early on. You probably don’t remember it. We had a big— Well, it was our house but then a bunch of other buildings. Like a compound. Ms. Yu had a textile business, she worked out of Lotus Pier and a lot of workers lived there. And Wen Chao thought it would be a good base, so he— It was early, so they thought they could fight him off. Nobody knew how big the army was. I don’t know if you— Wen Chao was one of Wen Ruohan’s sons. He was a dick. I don’t know what they teach you about it in school.”

She shrugs. He tilts her head back for a better angle. Her eyes are closed.

“That’s what happened at our house, too.”

“Hmm?”

“The army wanted to take the house. They came at night. I think I was eight? It was a long time ago. My uncles said no. They said to leave us alone.”

He swallows. “Yeah.”

“The killed Uncle Xiao. They wanted Uncle Song to see. That’s what the guy said, the guy in charge. I could hear them from the doorway. And Uncle Song said no, and they shot him too. And then I went outside, and they pointed their guns at me.” She holds up her hand, fingers out like a gun. “But the guy in charge said no. He said, ‘It’s just a kid.’ And I didn’t look down at them on the ground. Uncle Song always said, ‘Just look where you’re going. When you’re scared just look straight where you’re going.’ So I didn’t look down. And they said, ‘Look, she can't see.’ They said, ‘The kid can’t see.’ and they let me just keep walking.”

Wei Ying closes his eyes, tight.

“I forgot Little Pig though. I should have taken her with me.”

He leans forward to press his forehead to the top of her hair, just lightly. She rubs her nose on her sleeve.

“That’s the secret to being blind, anyways.”

He swallows. “What is?”

“Just look where you’re going.” She holds her arm out again, pointing. “Look straight ahead, and don’t let your eyes touch anything.”

Don’t let your eyes touch anything. People in the creek bed, flies on faces.

He looks down at his wrist, the spot where one of the scars curves like a ragged half moon, like a melon with a bite out of it. His hands are shaking.

“Tie?” he says instead of anything else.

She pulls the rubber band off her wrist and hands it back to him. He ties off the braid and pats it. He can’t hug her, or anything like that, so he just pats her hair.

“Do you want an extra blanket?”

She stretches and gets up. “It’s not that cold.”

“Still.”

“Yeah, okay.”

He goes into his room for the blanket and sits down on the bed for a moment, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. His ribs itch, his lungs are tied up in rubber bands. He considers the bottle under the bed, but doesn’t reach for it.

She’s curled under her one blanket when he gets back. He thinks for a second about spreading the extra one over her, tucking it under her chin, but he doesn’t. He leaves it folded by her feet. She doesn’t say anything, just watches him.

“Do you want the light on?” he asks, standing by her feet.

She shakes her head.

“Okay.” He scratches his nose. “Good night, A-Qing.”

“Night, boss.”

It makes him smile, a little. He checks the door locks, pulls the curtains closed, turns off the lamp. The light from the kitchen reaches into the living room—it can barely be called a separate room, anyway. He goes to the kitchen and fills a glass with water, leaves it on the coffee table. Just in case. He watches her for a moment from the kitchen door, holding on to the light switch. She doesn’t say anything, and he starts to feel creepy, so he turns out the light and goes to bed. He lays on his back and looks up at the streetlights filtering in through the curtains and tries to think about nothing.

Part Four

[aneekapaneeka]

big fic rec masterlist here!

📝 - ongoing series ✔ - finished series 🎯 - bulleted 🎀 - one shot

Anonymous Love by @mortaljin - Pairing: ??? x reader - Genre: fluff, high school au - 🎀  - Summary: One sticky note turns into two, two into four and then four into dozens. Who in their right mind would confess their love for you, anonymously, via sticky-note? Why do your seven best friends have shit-eating grins on their faces?

Anonymous - by @bloomsuga - Genre: smut, fluff, angst, social media au - ✔ - Summary:  Searching for inspiration, a chart-topping rapper who keeps his identity hidden from the public, going by the stage name RM, stumbles upon you singing in a coffee shop and finds his new muse in your voice. He makes you an offer to collab with one catch: you can’t see his face.

The Rich Man’s Cortchet Club - by @kpopfanfictrash - Genre: smut, humor, college au - 🎀 - Summary:  When they were freshmen in college, Namjoon began a club with his six closest friends. The one thing they all had in common? V i r g i n s as fuck. Obviously, they couldn’t call the club the Virgins Club and so, the Rich Man’s Crochet Club was born. Until time passes and Namjoon is the only one left. Now, the Club has one, final mission: to get Namjoon laid.

Reasons Wretched and Divine - by @hollyhomburg - Genre: fluff, hybrid au, angst, poly - 📝 - Summary: You live on an isolated but sprawling farm with your abusive husband, but things start to change for the better when your husband adopts a retired police dog hybrid named Namjoon

Beauty & The Bookworm - by @jungshookz - Genre: librarian namjoon🤩, bratty reader, reader is rlly dumb in this one, fluff, smUT, angst - 🎀 - Summary: You discover that there are more things to check out at the library besides books. 

far far away - by @lilac-park-jimin - Genre: fluff, college au - ✔ - Summary:  when an accidental text from someone that apparently breaks everything, who’s name is namjoon ends up turning into something bigger than the both of you expected.

live & love - @lysjeon - Genre: fluff, angst, social media au - ✔ - Summary:  namjoon always liked you but for some reason he never thought you would be interested in him. and you are too scared to tell him you like him too.

Life Is A Whisk - by @readyplayerhobi (you’ll be seeing this gal a lot here) - Genre: fluff, humor - 🎀 - Summary:  You have no problem with Kim Seokjin most of the time, in fact you even consider him to be handsome and funny and he feels the same about you. Until you are both placed into a kitchen, and then it becomes the battlegrounds for World War Three, the Bake-off edition.

forever boy - by @lysjeon - Genre: fluff, angst, social media au - ✔ - Summary:  how annoying can the handsome popular guy get? the answer is: really annoying, specially when you tell him he isn’t that handsome to you.

Ghosted - by @bloomsuga - Genre: social media au, angst, ghosts, smut, fluff, crack - ✔ - Summary: Your new roommate is everything you could ask for: quiet, never makes messes, a killer dry sense of humor… and oh yeah—he’s dead.

my kind. - by @hobios - Genre: soulmate au, fluff, angst, humor - 🎀 - Summary: “i promise i won’t get enough, think you’re one of my kind.” or, when you make a connection with the handsome guy at the laundromat late one night, you start to wonder if Fate ever makes a mistake when it comes to soulmates.

A Boy Like You - by @cinnaminsvga - Genre: FLUFF, coworker au - 🎀 - Summary: for whenever you are feeling low, always remember that there is a boy you know who would lift the sky for you. {or alternatively: Min Yoongi loves you, though he never says it. He’s always been a firm believer in that actions speak louder than any words ever could.}

Of Fire and Love - by @hollyhomburg - Genre: fantasy au, dragon yoongi, fluff, angst - 📝 - Summary:  When Dragon Yoongi finds baby Jungkook in the wreckage of a house he burned down, he can’t bring himself to kill the child. Months after someone drops a baby at your door, you start to notice something- or someone, lurking at the edge of your farm. Why does the man you catch glimpses of have horns?

Reasons Wretched and Divine - by @hollyhomburg - Genre: fluff, hybrid au, angst, poly - 📝 - Summary: You live on an isolated but sprawling farm with your abusive husband, but things start to change for the better when your husband adopts a retired police dog hybrid named Namjoon 

  The Sugar Wars - by @hollyhomburg - Genre: soulmate au, idol au, fluff - 🎀 - Summary:  Maybe tasting everything his soulmate eats wouldn’t be so bad if Yoongi’s soulmate didn’t have the largest sweet tooth Ever. Maybe you wouldn’t need to sweeten everything if he didn’t drink his coffee so bitter.

basketball captian!yoongi - by @jungshookz - Genre: fluff, smut - 🎀 - Summary: min yoongi - captain of the basketball team. y/n y/l/n - water girl.

chromatic - by @jintobean - Genre: fluff, comedy - 🎀 - Summary: “Fuck, he looks like a sparkly anime boy.”

never judge a cover - by @dulcaet - Genre: fluff, angst, humor - 🎀 - Summary:  never had you thought you would find comfort in the character of min yoongi, resident bad boy.

slytherin to my heart  - by @bangtan-insfired - Genre: fluff, enemies to lovers, hogwarts au - 🎀 - Summary: You hated Min Yoongi. He hated you. But the both of you were about to find out that hate was just a way to mask another passionate emotion.

Peppermint - @readyplayerhobi

- Genre: fluff, coworker au, angst - ✔ - Summary:  Achieving your dream job is something that very people manage to do, which is why you’re all the more happier when you land a job on the film team at Poppin’ Culture; the biggest pop culture website, blog and YouTube channel around. What you don’t expect however, is to fall for the exceptionally shy and awkward colleague who is not even remotely your type. Or is he?

Night Stalker - by @readyplayerhobi - Genre: action, angst, smut, fluff, vampire hunter hobi is the hottest hobi, violence - 🎀 - Summary:  Vampires are a thing of legend, and yet you find yourself being saved by a self-proclaimed vampire hunter. Only your saviour is half-vampire himself, and struggles with his base instincts. What happens when you get to know him more and feel an attraction you can’t help?

A Universe To You - @readyplayerhobi - Genre: fluff, angst, smut - 🎀   - Summary:  Life for you has always been dull and grey; not only because you grew up on the most over-populated and polluted planet in the galaxy but because you’re colourblind. You’re convinced it’s because you have a soulmate out there, but soulmates are a forgotten concept now that humanity has spread across the stars. What happens then, when you finally escape Earth and discover colour with the touch of a man on a planet in which soulmates are just a tale of myth?

Wonder - by @smaubts

- Genre: crack, fluff - ✔ - Summary:  In which jimin has a crush on y/n and decides to make it his task to make her fall in love with him, two crackhead personalities unite and make the funniest duo.

Reasons Wretched and Divine - by @hollyhomburg - Genre: fluff, hybrid au, angst, poly - 📝 - Summary: You live on an isolated but sprawling farm with your abusive husband, but things start to change for the better when your husband adopts a retired police dog hybrid named Namjoon

Part Of Your Own World - by @readyplayerhobi - Genre: fluff, angst, merman jiminie - ✔ - Summary:  Jimin has always longed for the wide-open skies of the Above Sea. After saving the life of a beautiful human woman, he seeks to find her and finally live in his dream world. But young mermen should be careful what they wish for.

Insert Quippy Title Here!! - by @readyplayerhobi - Genre: CRACK, deadpool jimin, smut - 🎀 - Summary: There is no synopsis. It’s just you…me…and a real good time sweet cheeks.

Star Light, Star Bright - by @readyplayerhobi - Genre: fluff, angst, single dad jimin, tattoo artist reader, smut - 🎀 - Summary: Life has not gone exactly how Park Jimin imagined, and yet he can’t possibly imagine his life any different to what it is now. After six hard and stressful years, he’s now the happy owner of a degree along with being the proud dad of his little girl. But what happens when he meets you and his life is tipped upside down once more?

The Evolution Of You And I - by @readyplayerhobi - Genre: fluff, angst -  🎀 - Summary: For 15 years, Park Jimin has been in your life in some form. From childhood penpal’s to the closest of friends now, you can’t imagine your life without him even if you’ve never actually met him in person. It doesn’t help that you’ve fallen for him, even across the distance that separates you. But what happens when you finally meet up and you discover he’s been keeping something secret?

Beneath the Water - by @jungshookz (this one is so good, it’s funny asf!) - Genre: fluff, humor, merman jiminie - 🎀 - Summary: Moving to an apartment by the beach just got a whole lot more interesting

Under the Sea - by @bloomsuga - Genre: smut, fluff, humor, merman jimin  - 🎀

sorting hat - by @bangtan-insfired - Genre: fluff, hogwarts au - 🎀 - Summary: You were nervous to delve into the unknown Wizard world, but luckily for you, Jimin was there to help.

expecto patronum - by @bangtan-insfired - Genre: fluff, hogwarts au - 🎀 - Summary: You were the first of your class to perfect the patronus charm & Jimin is curious about the memory you used.  

the howler - by @bangtan-insfired - Genre: fluff, hogwarts au - 🎀 - Summary:  Not being able to take any more of Jimin’s passionate rants about you, the boys decide to take matters in their own hands and send their dear friend a howler.

Papillion - by @readyplayerhobi - Genre: angst, fluff, pregnant reader, childhood friends - 🎀 - Summary: Kim Taehyung has been a constant presence in your life for the last 25 years. The bestest friend a girl could ever want; he’s been there for you through all the good times and the bad. What happens though when you find yourself pregnant and abandoned? What happens when your best friend steps up in ways you never imagined?

Seven Seas - by @readyplayerhobi - Genre: fluff, smut, atlantis au, angst - 🎀 - Summary: Atlantis is a myth; a hidden city, a sunken island, a missing continent. Only…it’s not a myth. Just hidden out of choice. As the daughter of an Atlantean and a human, you are a halfling that is unwanted by the underwater continent and misunderstood by the surface. But what happens when you finally go to Atlantis and meet an Atlantean who is oddly kind to you?

Sehebon - by @httpjeon - Genre: smut, fluff, angst - 🎀 - Summary: You find yourself on izo huen, home to the sehebon. luckily for you, you’ve arrived at an interesting time.

Apartment 512 - @moononthejoon - Genre: fluff, smut, humor - 🎀 - Summary: After finally finding a decent place to live, you couldn’t believe that you landed next to the loudest neighbour in existance.

Fish Are Friends - by @httpjeon - Genre: fluff, smut, hybrid tae - 🎀 - Summary: After moving to the seaside, there is a dreadful storm. when all is clear, a man washes up on shore…only he isn’t quite human.

Falling in Crayolove - by @jungshookz - Genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst, kindergarten teacher tae - 🎀🎯 - Summary:  Y/n is a very single mom and taehyung is a very single kindergarten teacher. emma knows exactly what she needs to do.  

Stuck With You - by @jungshookz (have you ever heard of the song stuck in love with ryan ross?) - Genre: fluff, smut, ENEMIES  to LOVERS MATE, university au, fratboii tae - 🎀🎯 - Summary: Kim Taehyung becoming your new roommate is definitely up there on the list of the worst things that have ever happened to you. 

Crinkle - by @worldwidebt7 - Genre: webtoon, hybrid au, fluff! - ✔ - Summary:  You find yourself adopting a lonesome-looking bunny after hearing about him from a friend who recently adopted her own hybrid. The minute you looked at his big doe eyes, it was all over… - Beautifully done artwork, I definitely recommend checking all @worldwidebt7‘s work out!

Crush -by @jungxk - Genre: fluff, smut, amnesia au, husbang guk, comedy, angst - 🎀

Hopping Mad For You - by @readyplayerhobi - Genre: smut, fluff, flatmate jk, hybrid jk - 🎀 - Summary: For two years you’ve lived with your rabbit hybrid roommate, Jungkook. He’s been a model roommate and you’ve found yourself with little complaints. But his behaviour lately has been a little…unusual.

So You Wanna Be The Best - by @readyplayerhobi - Genre: crack, fluff - 🎀 - Summary: Every Pokemon trainer has a rival, and it’s just your luck that you got stuck with your hometown nemesis Jeon Jungkook. As any good rival, he’s determined to beat you to the title of Pokemon Master and he might have a chance at both that and you…if he wasn’t so dang inept.

neighbour!jungkook - by @jungshookz - Genre: fluff, smut - 🎀🎯 - Summary: Cute new apartment and cuter new neighbour.

gymrat!jungkook - by @jungshookz - Genre: fluff, smut - 🎀🎯 - Summary: The gym isn’t half-bad, you suppose.

badboy!jungkook -by @jungshookz - Genre: smut, fluff - 🎀 🎯 - Summary: It’s like he stepped straight out of a fanfiction.

drummer! jungkook - by @jungshookz - Genre: smut, fluff - 🎀 - Summary: ba dum tss

caramel macchiato - by @jungshookz - Genre: FLUFF, barista jk, smut - 🎀 - Summary: one caramel macchiato. one shot of espresso. six ice cubes. ¾ skim milk. ¼ whole milk. no whipped cream. a drizzle of caramel. a squirt of vanilla. and a sprinkle of cinnamon.

Love Letters - by  @jennieluvclub - Genre: fluff, angst - 🎀 - Summary:  You get a crush on a certain poet named Jungkook, while secret messages start appearing in your locker… you’d think that poetry and romance and mystery would go well together, think again…

felix felicis - by @bangtan-insfired - Genre: fluff, hogwarts au - 🎀 - Summary:  Jungkook has a huge crush on you, but is too shy to confess. Luckily for him, his friends make him drink some liquid luck potion that may have been that extra push he needed.

[kusunogatari]

[ Naruto OC x Canon Ship Week 2020 - Face to Face ] [ @naruto-ocxcanon-ship-week​ || @abyssaldespair​ ] [ Suigin Ryū, Uchiha Obito ] [ Alcohol ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ Trope: Online Dating ]

Nibbling her lip, Ryū stares at the slight reflection in her mobile screen. Thumbs flicker over the keys, not quite touching in indecision.

This is the closest she’s gotten.

The concept, admittedly, is just...not one she ever saw herself using. Online dating seems so, so...weird! Lining up your face, your name, a handful of facts, and calling it good. Is that really all it takes anymore? Sure, she...doesn’t exactly have mountains of experience beyond that. Maybe she’s just old-fashioned. But putting up something akin to a mugshot to try and find love seems very...strange.

“Whatcha doin’?”

Eeping in surprise, she claws the phone to her chest, face going pink and heart pounding. “N-nothing!”

Behind her, a coworker she knows mostly only in passing perks a brow. “Whoa, sorry! You looked kinda, uh...distressed.”

Ryū heaves a small breath. “...sorry, I didn’t mean to jump so bad. I just, uh...I’m trying one of those silly dating websites, and…”

The other woman quickly perks up. “Oh! Yeah they’re kinda scary at first but I met my boyfriend on one! I bet you’ll do just fine. Just be smart about it, and it usually all works out fine.”

“Smart…?”

“Y’know...meet in public places, tell someone where you’re going. About the same as a normal date for those like us, huh?”

At that, Ryū can’t help but deflate. “...yeah, good point.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. People gotta have their pictures on there. I take a pic of any license plates and send them to someone I trust just in case.”

Brow wilting, Ryū admits, “You’re...not exactly giving me votes of confidence here.”

“Hey, gotta be prepared for the worst, but the worst hardly ever happens. Besides, a bit of chatting online usually gives a pretty good indication of if something will even work. And you can always ask friends to go on doubles, too.”

At that, Ryū doesn’t answer. She...doesn’t really have many friends to ask, let alone any with dates she’d feel like asking along. “Yeah, good point. I’ll, uh...I’ll see how it goes.”

“Cool! Good luck!” Giving a wave as she passes by, her coworker heads around a corner and out of sight.

“...what am I doing…” Ryū mumbles to herself, looking back to her nearly-completed account. “I know this isn’t gonna work…” And now the less appealing sides are at the forefront of her mind. Maybe she should just keep her nose to the grindstone and pretend she never brought this up.

...but then again…

As much as she hates to admit it, she’s lonely. Being a pharmacist might be similar to her wish to be a doctor, but it’s not quite what she wanted. It just feels like something is...missing. And while Ryū isn’t the sort to assume all her problems can be solved by a guy (or gal), she’s still pretty able to realize that her social life isn’t the best. No real close friends, passing grades with her coworkers...not even any pets. Up until now, she’s lived life in a series of grinds. School, then work, and now...it feels lacking.

Hence the idea to try the app.

“...no harm in looking,” she eventually mumbles to herself, slowly going through the rest of her profile and hitting the confirm button. “You don’t have to go on with it, but...just look. See how it works. Maybe just...chat with someone. One step at a time, okay?”

Of course, by then her break is nearly over, so she mutes her phone and heads back to work. She...only ate half her lunch, but she’s not really all that hungry anyway. Only once her shift is over does she head back to her little apartment and...give this thing a real try.

At first, it throws nothing but male profiles at her. Which is all well and good, but...it’s not all she’s interested in. Looking over a few names and faces, she eventually bucks up the courage to pick one. He’s a few years older, lives a town over, and works as a physical therapist. Not bad, right?

...ugh, wrong.

As soon as they start chatting, she knows this...isn’t going to work. He’s all Mister Nice Guy, subtly bragging about himself and leaving only certain questions open for her in turn: the only things he wants to hear about, and...things she can easily see through as shallow. Eventually she manages to get him to shut up and quickly deletes him.

Okay...not a great first impression, but it’s not gonna be perfect the first time she tries. This isn’t a fairytale, after all. So, she tries another. And another.

After over two weeks of duds that don’t even get past initial chats, she’s about ready to give up.

Laying on her bed spread-eagle with a sigh, she stares up at the ceiling. What started as a vague inking is turning into nothing but a source of frustration. Not exactly what she signed up for. Weighing her options, Ryū eventually stirs when her phone gives an all-too-familiar notification sound.

Another match...wonderful.

Sitting up with a grunt, she opens the message and looks over yet another profile. At first glance, it’s just another guy. Ugh. The amount of lady-seeking ladies has been depressingly low, but...apparently those are usually on their own kind of sites. So, for now, she entertains herself with this one.

Obito Uchiha...huh. Vaguely sounds like her own Japanese roots. There’s a small spark of curiosity, adjusting her stance slightly. Short dark hair, dark eyes, and...well, his pics aren’t the clearest (he clearly knows his good side (or what he’s assuming is his good side since...it’s all she sees)). But she spies a cat. That’s a win. She likes cats. A glance at his actual profile shows a like of sweets, cats (aha!), and a dislike of...aubergines? Googling that, there’s a hum of understanding. It’s eggplant! She...didn’t know that...whoops. The rest of the summary (stuff about ‘being extreme’ and ‘having abs’) gets her to giggle.

Well...might as well give it a try.

Giving the okay, she opens up the chat window, nibbling her lip in thought. What should she say…?

Hello!

A bit surprised, Ryū jolts slightly, not expecting the quick response! ...hi!

I didn’t think you’d accept it so fast!

And I didn’t think you’d say hello so quickly either!

Oh, sorry...was that too fast?

The apology begets a subconscious smile. No, not at all! My phone is usually pretty quiet is all. Sorry if I’m awkward, I’m...still kinda new at this.

Ha, me too. I haven’t had too many matches yet, so I’m still practicing.

Guess we can practice together! Though I have to ask you…

...eh?

What’s your kitty’s name?

Oh! Her name is Tenebris.

Aww, I love that name!

She’s my lady, haha! Helps me reel in the girls ;D

Ryū can’t help a snort. Well it seems to be working. I don’t have any pets, sadly…

What? None at all?

No...I work a lot so I haven’t gotten around to it. And I don’t want them to be lonely!

Bah, cats are good at being alone. Feed them and clean their box and you’re fine.

I’ll have to think about it, haha~

After a few minutes, Ryū realizes...this is the longest she’s talked to someone on here yet. Sure, it was a little stiff to start, but by some grace they just sort of...fell into conversation. No posturing or anything. It’s rather...refreshing! Encouraged, she keeps texting as she starts working on her dinner.

So what kind of work do you do?

I’m a pharmacist! Not quite the doctor I planned on, but it works.

Ohhh, wow!

What about you?

There’s quiet for a few minutes, and Ryū can’t help but wonder if that was a bad question. But then Obito replies, Sorry, my cat got stuck behind the couch...I uh...am currently working on a garbage truck part time…

She blinks. That’s...very random. Nothing wrong with that. It’s an important job, after all!

Eh, yeah...not very charming though, is it?

Oh, pffft. I stand behind a counter all day and give people medicine over and over. It’s not exactly exciting most days. We all make our ends meet somehow.

I guess that’s true.

Smiling at her phone, Ryū keeps cooking and chatting, giving play-by-plays as he asks what she’s making.

Do you like cooking?

Mhm! Food’s one of those things that’s both a necessity, and yet can be fancy when you want it to be, so...I thought it would be good to learn. And it’s a lot of fun!

I’m...okay at it.

Maybe I can give you some lessons down the road, hm?

You would?

Sure! It’d be something fun to do.

Like a first date?

At that, Ryū pauses. Right...dating. That’s what this is all for. She almost forgot… Sure! If that’s something you’d like to do. I guess dinner and a movie is pretty common for that. We’ll just make our own!

I’d really like that!

Cheeks warming, Ryū beams at the screen. I guess...it’s a date! Eventually. Whenever we can make something work, and maybe talk a little more…?

Sure! I take a lot of random side jobs so I can be a little flaky…

That’s okay - we’ll just keep chatting until then. You’re actually the first person that’s been fun to talk to…

He sends a big smile emoji. Success!

You’ll have to think about what we should make! I have to warn you, I like making dessert, too…

Oh no...my biggest weakness…

And no eggplant, right?

Eugh, no.

Haha, noted!

The conversation runs well into the evening until Ryū admits she’d best get to bed. Guess I’ll talk to you some more later, okay?

Mhm!

Say hi to Tenebris for me!

Haha, I will! Goodnight Ryū.

Night, Obito.

Checking her other messages, Ryū plugs in her mobile to charge before mulling over the evening. As she does, a smile slowly pulls at her lips.

Well, she can’t make any assumptions yet, but...this is a good start.

Chatting with Obito quickly becomes a routine. Though not much of a texter before, she checks in and quips with him throughout the day. He tells her about his latest jobs, and she notes anything out of the ordinary at work. Days blend into a week, and then two.

“So…”

“Hm?”

Leaning against the counter, Ryū’s coworker smirks. “Seems to me you hooked one, huh?”

Her cheeks flush pink. “Um...maybe…”

“You haven’t put your phone down for more than fives minutes all day!”

The pink gets darker as the other woman laughs.

“I’m glad! So, you gonna see him?”

“Yeah, eventually...I think we’re both a little nervous.”

“That’s adorable. You’ll have to let me know how it goes! Been nice seeing you look so bright lately.”

Ryū blinks. “...really?”

“Yeah. No offense, but...ever since I’ve worked here, you’ve been so quiet and to yourself. But lately you’ve just seemed more upbeat and...I dunno, out there.”

The observation admittedly takes her a bit off-guard. “...oh…”

“It’s just nice to see you look happy, that’s all. I know a job like this one’s kinda drudgy. Glad you’ve got something to keep your chin up.” With a smile, the other pharmacist straightens and heads back to work.

Still a bit struck, Ryū mulls all that over. True, she’s always been one to keep her nose to the grindstone. Maybe having a bit of a social outlet just...got her going to opening up some more.

...huh.

So...any openings in your schedule coming up?

Uh...I haven’t really checked lately. One sec!

Waiting for Obito’s reply, Ryū nibbles her thumbnail. She’s going to do it. She’s going to ask him over. By now she’s gotten to know him pretty well. She’s always been able to trust her gut, and...she believes she can trust him.

Though just in case, she’ll be letting her neighbor know when he comes to visit.

Just to be safe.

So I think I actually have Sunday clear. Does that work with you?

Yeah! I’m always on a Monday through Friday schedule, so weekends are almost always good with me!

Okay...cool!

Any idea what you wanna make?

Make?

Yeah! Remember, we talked about cooking…?

Ohhh, yeah! Uh...honestly I don’t have any preference.

You sure?

Yeah, just no aubergines.

I remember, haha.

Should I bring anything?

Nah, I’ll handle it. Though I guess if you have a movie you’d like to watch?

Ooh, okay! Uh...any you don’t like?

Maybe nothing too gory…?

Aw, that’s no fun!

I saw enough in medical school, believe me...it’s not fun.

Okay, okay. I’ll pick something.

And with a few other details hashed out...they have a date scheduled.

Ryū’s stomach can’t stop fluttering: both in excitement, and in nerves. She hasn’t really dated since college...what if she does something stupid? Offends him somehow? Or something just goes...wrong?

Okay, no, stop it. It’s gonna be fine. You’ve talked a lot, so...no need to be nervous. Just do it!

By the time Sunday rolls around, she’s as ready as she’ll ever be.

Fiddling with her hair in the bathroom mirror (can she EVER get it to do what she wants?), she jumps as someone knocks on the door. Trying to manage her nerves, she peers through the little peephole, spying what indeed looks to be Obito.

Taking a moment to steady her breath, she pulls open the door and looks up just as he looks over.

...oh.

She always thought his photo gallery on his profile was a bit...empty. At first she hadn’t really noticed that all of Obito’s photos had been taken showing one side of his face.

So only now, with him looking straight at her, does she see what he’s been hiding.

The apprehension in his face clearly shows he’s awaiting her reaction, and at first she can only blink. Eyes naturally slide to the right side where a plethora of scars mar the skin from his brow to his chin. One even reaches up into his lip.

But though it’s a surprise by novelty, it otherwise does nothing to hinder the blush in her face.

...gosh he’s handsome.

Her gaze lingers on the scars for only a moment before lifting back to his eyes, cheeks rosy and giving a demure smile. “...hi.”

“...hey.”

There’s a few beats of awkward silence, the pair of them stuck staring at each other. “...s-sorry! Um...come on in!” Ryū steps aside, going hotter in the face. A nice button-up shirt and clean jeans make him look quite snazzy. Seems her blouse and skirt wasn’t too much or too little. They hadn’t really breached any ideas about how formal to be…

Stepping in, Obito glances around before clearing his throat. From behind his back he draws a little bouquet of flowers. “Er...for you.”

Ryū’s greys alight with delight. “Oh!” It’s cliché as all hell, but she loves them. Delicately accepting the blooms, she gives them a sniff before beaming at him. “Thank you! I, er...I don’t have anything for you…”

“That’s okay! I mean, food’s good with me, heh.”

Giving a giggle, Ryū retreats to the kitchen to put them in some water, setting the vase on her little table. “There…!”

“You...have a really nice apartment!”

“Thank you...I’m always either working or tired, so I don’t manage to mess it up much,” she laughs. “I tried to make it kinda...cute. I’m not exactly an interior designer.”

“No, it’s nice. It suits you.”

That makes her go pink all over again. “...s-so! Um...are you hungry…?”

Obito gives a grin. “Always!”

“Okay! Um...I thought we’d do something a bit...basic? Just in case? Do you like spaghetti…?”

“Yeah!”

“...okay! Cool. Um…” Awkwardness creeping back up, she claps her hands and giggles nervously. “Then, I...guess we’ll give it a try!”

The pair move back into the kitchen, where Ryū already has everything sorted out and ready to go. “Wow...looks professional.”

“Oh gosh, it’s just…” She gestures vaguely. “...I wanted to be ready so we wouldn’t waste any time…” Turning on the heat under the water, she thinks to ask, “...no food allergies, right?”

“No. At least...none I’ve found…? And I’ve had spaghetti before, it should be fine, hm?”

“Okay!”

A bit stuttery at first, she starts guiding him through her process, letting him take most of the reins and acting more as a guide. Obito listens attentively, looking exceedingly focused.

...it’s adorable.

“Okay, so with the grease drained off, we can add our sauce...and once it’s all combined, that’ll be that!” She, in the meantime, worked on a salad mix. “And the garlic bread should be about done, too!”

“You make this all seem so easy.”

She flushes pink. “It...just takes practice! And you did really well!”

“I had a good teacher.”

Once it’s all finished, the pair of them ferry things to the table. “Okay...you try it first.”

“Me?”

“Mhm! You made it, right?”

Glancing to his plate, Obito twirls some noodles onto his fork, lightly pink at Ryū’s watching as he takes the bite and chews. “...it’s good!”

Beaming again, she follows suit. And it’s perfect! Mouth still full, she gives a thumbs-up, making him laugh. Between spaghetti, salad, garlic bread, and a little wine, they get through dinner with hearty conversation and increasing laughter.

“I dunno why I was so nervous,” she admits once they’re done, a cheek leaning against a fist as she twirls the last few sips of her wine. “I mean...we’ve been talking so much already. Guess I just felt kinda...out of practice. Y’know?”

“Yeah, me too. Though I try to bravado my way through things.”

“Well, we got through it. Should we play the movie…?”

“Sure!” He holds up a thumbdrive, grinning. “From my collection.”

“Oho!”

With a refill of wine, they move into the little living room of the apartment, Obito hooking up the TV and starting the film.

���What is it?”

“You’ll see!”

“Not gory, right?”

“Nooo. But...maybe a little scary.”

“Scary is okay. I like spooks. Just not lotsa blood and flesh and…” Her nose wrinkles. “...y’know.”

“Ha, yeah.”

They settle on the one couch she has, and at first sit...a little ways apart. They’d had opposite sides of the table before, and...well, this is new. But like a couple of dumb teenagers, they slowly meander their way closer, testing the other’s boundaries as they go until Ryū finds herself snuggled up against Obito’s side, head on his shoulder.

Obito, just out of her line of sight, is clearly ecstatic.

The movie starts out tame, but true to his word, it quickly takes on a rather creepy tone. Transfixed, Ryū stares at the screen, slowly worming her way further and further into the dip of Obito’s side.

...if she weren’t so focused on the movie, she’d realize that was likely his plan.

Obito, on the other hand, has technically already seen this one, and instead mostly watches for her reactions. The closer they get to a big scare, the more often he looks, biting back a grin until it finally happens -!

Shrieking in terror, Ryū scrambles for someplace to hide, and...ends up burrowing into his chest with a string of garbled, frightened nonsense as Obito does his best not to laugh.

“You okay?”

“I -! That -!” Her head shakes with a whimper, still hiding. “Nope. Nope nope nope.”

“Want me to stop it?”

“...nooo…” One grey peeks out, finding the screen a bit more bearable now. “...that was fricken’ terrifying! Ohhh my gosh!”

He just snickers, ignoring her continuing whines of discomfort. “It’s almost over, don’t worry.”

To his delight, she remains half-perched on his lap for the rest of the film. Once the credits start to creep up the screen, she loses her tension and goes limp. “...I almost had a heart attack…”

“Aw…”

“I mean it was good! But cripes, I wasn’t ready...eugh…”

Obito rubs a hand along her back, still clearly amused. “Gonna be able to sleep tonight?”

“...I better, I have work in the morning…”

He apologizes, watching as she tears herself from the couch and disappears into the kitchen. “...Ryū?”

No answer.

Brow furrowing, he makes to follow just in time to see her pull a pan out of the refrigerator. “What’s that?”

“Peach cobbler,” she sniffs, setting it on the counter and then fetching vanilla ice cream. “This is my reward for surviving your movie.”

“You’re gonna eat the whole pan?”

She shoots him a pout. “...maybe.”

He mirrors the look. “...I want some…”

“You have to promise never to scare me like that again.”

“Okay, okay. But wasn’t it at least a little fun…?”

Scooping the food into bowls, she thinks back over how nice and warm it was in his arms...and she could smell his cologne… “...maybe a little.”

They stay standing in the kitchen, leaned against the counter as they eat their dessert. Though not as lively as before, they chat in the quiet.

“So...on a scale of one to ten, how was our date?”

Ryū sucks on her spoon with a thoughtful hum. “...a nine.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Why not a ten?”

“Because you scared the bejesus out of me!” After a moment to pout, she asks, “...you?”

“A ten.”

“...really?”

“Good food, good movie...good company. What’s not to love?”

She...isn’t sure how to respond to that, so she takes another bite to excuse her silence.

“We’ll have to try cooking something else next time. Something spicy!”

“Not too spicy, it’ll make me sick!”

“Whaaat?”

“I have a delicate stomach...nothing too greasy, either.”

“That’s all the good food!” he laughs.

“It’s not my fault!”

“Fine, fine...we’ll figure something out. I’ll have to find some of my grandmother’s recipes. From Quebec.”

That earns a blink. She thought she heard traces of an accent in his voice, but didn’t want to assume. “...sure! I’d really like that.”

But eventually, the bowls and the wine glasses are empty. The movie is over. The hour is growing late.

It’s time to call it a night.

...but it’s clear neither of them really want to.

Obito offers to help tidy up, and that helps take a little more time. But once that’s done, there’s really no more excuses.

“...well…” Ryū fidgets a bit. “Guess I’ll...say goodnight?”

“Yeah, I better go. Don’t want to keep you up to late. And I’ve got my route in the morning.”

“Mm…”

She walks him to the front door, the pair of them lingering in the opening for a long moment. “...be safe on your way home. Text me to let me know you made it okay, all right?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“And to say goodnight.”

“...again.”

“...yeah, again.”

Another pause.

Indecision seeming to make her bones vibrate, Ryū eventually makes up her mind. Stepping up a bit closer, she lays a hand against Obito’s chest and - with a bit of posturing up on her toes - she gives him a feather-light press of her lips to his.

Flashing pink, he nonetheless reciprocates, both of them easing slowly back apart.

“...goodnight, Obito.”

“...night, Ryū. I’ll...talk to you later.”

Nodding with a shy smile, she watches him head down the hall before forcing herself to shut the door. For a moment, she stands and holds the knob...then turns and leans against it with a sigh.

...it seems so quiet in here now…

Eyes lift to her little dining room table, where the flowers he brought her are still sitting in their vase. The sight brings her a small smile. As much as she’s sad to see him go...well, that just means she’ll get to look forward to seeing him again next time.

Next time...what a lovely concept.

Heaving a more contented breath, she makes her way back into the apartment. Time to get ready for bed, and wait to hear he got home okay. Then she’ll sleep, and start all over again.

...but at least now there’s something to look forward to.

     All righty, another day, this one with Ryū’s ship with @abyssaldespair​‘s Obito, set in a modern verse! I had...several ideas for these two, and picking one was difficult and ended up costing me time BUT, it’s done xD      Hopefully I can get MORE done :’D      But yes! This was actually an idea Meg submitted to me, with the premise based largely on Obito hiding his appearance on his profile until the big reveal! Ryū, of course, doesn’t mind his scars no matter the verse. She still thinks he’s one cute cookie x3      Anywho, I guess that’s...really all there is to say for this one! Hope ya like it Meg, and I better get to work on more drabbles xD

[imagine-that-haikyuu]

OK so hear me out: Daichi works in an office with his coworker and they're sassy and hyper competitive with each other and literally everyone around them is convinced that they are gonna eventually have a one-and-done hate sex thing, but surprise bitch, they're already dating! Could I get a scenario/headcanons with this as the premise? The sky is the limit, gals, so wherever inspiration takes you *finger guns*

Well, it certainly has been quite a while, hasn’t it? Sorry about that! Life has been A Lot lately and unfortunately, writing has fallen to the wayside. But I’m still trying!

God, I love scenarios like this. When will my office romance actually happen?

Also, this is probably not as sexy as you were hoping, but I wanted this to be light-hearted and playful!

- Admin Rachel Lauren

Ko-Fi

“Huh? Where’s my mug?”

Shimizu blinks and turns to you. “Your mug?”

You cross your arms over your chest while a sigh escapes yours lips. “Yeah, the one I always use. You know, the really big blue one? It’s not here.”

The cabinet in the office kitchen is plenty full with your company’s branded mugs, but you’re staring at them as if they were all currently in use or dirty. To be fair, it’s not exactly your mug. You didn’t buy it or bring it in: it had been here even before your started working for this company. It’s free for anyone to use. You’re just the one who always ends up using it, and most people don’t touch it because of that. Or it could be because you’ve managed to  permanently stain it with your lipstick. (Despite, what they think, it’s clean! It gets run through the dishwasher every night after all!)

It’s the best mug in the office to boot. It’s larger than the ones the company makes, meaning less hassle for more coffee.

“Couldn’t you just use a regular mug in the meantime?” Shimizu asks.

“Sure, but it wouldn’t feel right,” you say. You continue to stare at the cabinet with a small pout on your lips. Shimizu doesn’t say much else after this, but you’ve been friends with her long enough to know what she’s thinking. Yes, you are being unreasonable, but that’s your mug and you’d like to have your coffee in it.

She picks up her own beverage–black tea that’s still too hot to drink–from the counter, ready to return to her desk.

“Well, I’ll keep an eye out for it, then,” she says. She begins to walk past you, but doesn’t get very far when another person appears in the office kitchen’s doorway, stopping her in her tracks. “Oh, I think I found your mug, _____.”

You turn towards them and, lo and behold, there’s your beloved mug! At the sight of it, you feel a sense of relief. The feeling is temporary, though, because the person who’s holding it is the last person who should be using it.

Daichi smiles courteously. He bows his head in acknowledgement to the both of you. Your pout instantly goes from mildly frustrated to annoyed Jigglypuff.

“Morning, Shimizu. _____.”

He steps to the side to allow Shimizu through. She greets him accordingly and heads back to her desk, but not before stopping and turning back to you. Again, she doesn’t say anything, but you swear you see the faintest hint of a smirk on her lips before she’s out of sight. Even you don’t have any explanation for that. Daichi’s back is to her when this happens, so he doesn’t catch it.

“Now that’s an interesting face,” he teases. “I’ve never seen that one before.” He makes his way over to your side. You watch as he dumps the small bit of coffee left in your mug and starts to wash it.

“Don’t play stupid. I’m not in the mood.”

“Haven’t had your coffee yet, huh?

Instead of a retort, you simply groan.

“Hey, you said it yourself, this is the best mug in the office. Besides, it’s got your lipstick stains on it, so it just feels right that I use it over someone else.”

You abandon the stank face your giving him for a look that’s a cross between amusement and surprise. He sets the now clean mug down on the counter and fills it with the pot of coffee that finished brewing a few minutes prior. You don’t miss the overtly sweet smile he gives you while he fixes up another cup. It’s the kind where you can’t tell if he’s smiling like that to ruffle your feathers or because he’s genuinely smiling at you. Either way, you decide to play along.

You lower your voice. “Well, Sawamura, if you want me to leave my lipstick stains over more things then you should have said so earlier.” The hairs on his neck practically stand up when you speak in that hushed tone, but his face remains totally composed.

Daichi also lowers his voice,“That better be a promise.”

Now it’s your turn to get the chills.

“Dinner at seven? You pick the place.”

“Sounds like a plan. Let’s meet at that new place that opened up near me.” He pushes the mug towards you. Through you teasing, you hadn’t even noticed that he’d been fixing the coffee exactly how you like it. “Enjoy.”

Strangely enough, it brings you back to the first time Daichi stayed over your place. It was the third time you had slept together (but the first time that didn’t take place during a late night at the office when tensions were high, due dates were closing in, and it was only the two of you working on those projects) and you were still uncertain as to what kind of relationship this was going to be. That morning, you woke up to an empty bed and assumed the worst, only to be greeted by Daichi in your kitchen starting a pot of coffee for the both of you. A simple gesture, really, yet it made your heart flutter. It was then that you realized that this wasn’t going to be just be fling. He only had to ask you how you take your coffee that first time, making sure to memorize it for mornings to come.

Albeit, the relationship is still on the downlow for the sake of work. Some of your nosier colleagues don’t need to know.

He starts to leave, but you grab him by the wrist before he’s out of reach. He turns back to face you, a little surprised.

“_____?”

“Hey. Thanks,” you say softly. Without a second thought, you place a peck on his cheek. It’s pretty much habit at this point.

A big mistake really.

Over Daichi’s shoulder you catch a glimpse of two figures standing in the break room doorway. Shimizu–who’s got a hand covering her mouth–and Sugawara, whose mouth is hanging open more so in amusement than shock. He actually pumps his fist in celebration.

“Called it!” he cheers. Then he walks off, calling out into the office. “Hey, Asahi, you owe me and Shimizu a round next time we go out drinking!” Azumane’s “Eh?” is audible even in the distance.

You turn to Shimizu in horror. She gives a playful grin and shrugs.“Sorry, _____.” And without another word, she also walks off.

“You’re not sorry at all!” you snap, but it falls on deaf ears. A hand claps to you shoulder, bringing your attention back to Daichi.

He sighs. There’s a defeated smile on his lips. “Well, they were gonna find out sooner or later.”

A groan. You bring your fingers to your temples to massage them. “I need my damn coffee already.”

[rachywritessomething]

My “brick and mortar” MLM horror story

So, I figure a lot of my subs and mutuals are younger folks who will be looking for a solid source of income this summer and if you are looking for a marketing position, you could be sucked into something you really don’t want to do.

In San Diego, there are A LOT of these multi level marketing type companies that prey (yes, prey) upon young, energetic people. I have been sucked into one and the resulting stress of working 60+ hours a week of that utter bs made me so sick that I was going into the urgent care clinic before work every other week. Ulcers, UTIs, ear infections... just a lot of shit that I’ve not dealt with on such a substantial level since I was very young.

I’ll tell you the story of how I got sucked in.

tl;dr I was so caught up in this MLM that I didn’t get to see my grandpa before he died.

The summer after my JR year of college, I was late in finding an internship because I had been studying abroad and a lot of places ignored my requests for phone interviews. It was not a huge deal because I had already planned on taking the fall semester off to work anyway. The week before I flew out to Cali, I got a call requesting an interview. The receptionist who called me (a sweet gal who left the company shortly after I did) told me that my resume looked solid and that they would love to interview me. I informed her I would be in Cali by the end of the week to which she responded:

“We’ll get you in for an interview as soon as possible. Our hiring window is closing and we only have a limited number of spaces.”

This is a sales tactic I would soon learn. It’s called “fear of loss” and by making something seem limited, you create a sense of urgency in the person you’re trying to sell to.

Now, this job was advertised as “sports marketing” which seemed kind of jocky to me, but I had marketing experience and I was in excellent shape so I figured it would be easy to step into a workplace dominated by men.

I was so wrong.

So, the first thing I discovered when I went into my first interview is that this marketing company took up one small office. Most of it consisted of a lobby like section with a TV and a pool table. They were also playing up-beat electronic music. It wasn’t quite what I expected from a professional work setting, but I didn’t mind.

My first “interview” was a five minute conversation with the boss, a man I would grow to resent. He asked me about what I liked, he asked me if I played sports, he asked me about a ��team mentality” and I told him what he wanted to hear because I really wanted a paid job. When he talked about the job itself, he skirted around the details and focused mostly on compensation.

They won’t tell you exactly what you’re going to be doing right off the bat. They want to make you feel like it’s an exclusive opportunity.

I was invited back for a second interview which got into more detail about the sales. We were told we only needed to sell to one lead a day to be able to make the big bucks which “sounds easy, right?” Right.

The one thing they mentioned that struck me as a red flag was that we would be working 11:00-8:00 6 days a week. But I brushed it off because it’s all about the grind, right?

Wrong. This job was not some cushy office job even though we were required to show up to work wearing suits. It was direct marketing, which is door to door sales. From 11:00-20:00, we were at the office in out business professional clothing for the morning meeting, during which we were indoctrinated.

Yes. Indoctrinated. 

These meetings were about how this job would make you the most money out of any job. My boss would sometimes have us throw out our “greatest desires” which always translated to something flashy from my coworkers. On one occasion, I was nearly driven to tears because my boss kept telling me to list what I wanted. Now, I’m not going to say I’m not material, but I honestly want to just live comfortably, not buy a mansion and a boat. I wanted contentment with my living situation but that was NOT an answer.

The main ideas that these meetings pushed were that you had to grind and suffer now so that in ten years you could live in the lap of luxury. You could make hella money without raising a finger. Anyone who worked in anything else didn’t know how to live because they would not be able to retire at 30. It was all about hustling and having a good attitude.

From 12:00-1:00, we had an hour off which was actually spent driving to some fast food place for lunch, changing into our field clothes, and then driving to the field itself. 

We were in the field from 1:00 - 8:00 with no individual vehicle. We had no means of leaving and in many cases we were in very residential areas which means there was no place to use the restroom. We were supposed to ask when we made a sale.

Now, what I’d like to impress is that I was the only sales woman in the office for a while and when we went to the field, we were alone in the field. So the first thing I realized was that even in uniform, men whistled, watched, and followed me. The first few weeks were not so bad because it was summer and it was light out until 8:00 p.m. which was when I was picked up from my neighborhood, but that did not last. Being alone in the dark was NOT something I was comfortable with, and requesting that I get picked up earlier was out of the question.

It’s about the grind after all.

 There was one instance in particular when I told one of my managers that I had been followed for several blocks and was forced out of my area so I could try to shake this guy. He laughed like it was just a funny thing to happen at work.

I didn’t even bother to try to point out that being without access to a restroom for 7+ hours a day was not practical for me. I took to wearing black pants when I was on my period and walking to gas stations or stores if I was so lucky to be within a mile of them. Thankfully I was never caught walking out of my territory because that’s a big no-no.

As were taking breaks.

We could sit down when we made a sale.

Now, I want you to picture someone coming up to your door, knocking, and striking up a conversation with you. They want to sell you AT&T. Yes. Fucking AT&T. You’re obviously going to slam the door in their face and honestly, I don’t blame you.

I would get a sale about every other day. I actually wasn’t too bad at it. But I was starting to get sick from all this. Like, can’t sleep kind of sick. So my attitude isn’t as great, I’m lethargic, I’m wandering onto hiking paths because I’m in enough pain or I’m nauseous enough that I can’t open my mouth. Then the sales stop.

It’s 100% commission so I’m not making any money. I am, however, losing $60/week in gas to drive 30 minutes to and from this place. Oh, and remember what I said about this job running from 11:00-8:00? Yea, that’s a lie. We often wouldn’t get back from the field until 9:00, and then we had to do daily breakdowns which never lasted less than a half hour. Thursday nights were team bonding nights because why the fuck not. We played sports, video games, and we even went to Dave&Busters a few times. I liked the “away” team nights because I could cry in my car for a little bit before going.

Skipping team night was a big no-no too. 

Here I was, getting sicker and sicker, worrying over my ability to make any money at all, and trying to justify taking time off work because I wanted to fly back to Indiana to see my grandpa one last time.

Did I mention he was dying? 

Yes, I kept putting off this trip because I felt this irrational desire to get back on the horse and make something for myself first. It wasn’t even a matter of buying tickets because my mom said she would buy them for me. She knew I wasn’t making any money. She knew I was getting sick. 

My whole family wanted me to stop. I was working six days a week and on the one day I had off, I couldn’t bring myself to do anything because I was so socially exhausted. No going to the beach, no hiking, no nothing. I just sat in my parents’ apartment and tried to will myself to go to the pool.

My last day of work was my final straw. My boss was getting angry because I wasn’t making any sales and I had a bad attitude. My homework for the weekend then was to send in proof that I had been “networking” in with my weekly goals (because we actually had to submit weekly goals every Sunday anyway) I went home, I did nothing that Sunday.

Monday rolled around and I was up early and dressed to go to work, but I was writing because it was November and it was the only thing I could enjoy. My older sister worked not too far from my parents’ place and she came over for breakfast. 

She told me she would pay me $500 to paint her boyfriend’s rental. 

“You like painting, you’re good at it, and you’ll actually make money.”

I called my boss then to tell him I was quitting, but he didn’t pick up the phone and he didn’t have an empty mailbox. I called the receptionist to tell her and she begged me to come in to tell them in person. 

I didn’t. I wasn’t about to relive the shame of begging my boss for a day off after I had already driven to the office because I was so sick. No. That’s just a waste of gas.

I put on sweats, I hopped in my car, and I drove to the rental to paint. It was the happiest I had been in months. For a week, I worked on my own time, almost completely isolated from other people. For lunch, my sister and her boyfriend would take me out to eat, or they’d bring me food, and there was no rush to finish. 

In that week, I did more than paint because I was able to get so much done in a day. I sanded, stained, and finished the railings. I cleaned the entire house top to bottom. I scrubbed grout and filled in every single ding and dent in the walls. 

And I made more that week than I had in two months of misery.

My mom bought the tickets to Indiana because we had no conflict. I finished my NaNo novel. My sister, my brother, and I went out to the bars and actually hung out. I went to the beach with my dogs which I am so grateful for because my sweet Ellie ended up dying a few months later after I had returned to school.

My grandpa died the day before we flew to Indiana. Before I moved to Cali, he told me that of his 20 grandkids, he saw me the most. I could have been there sooner if I would have had the courage to push back against the shame and indoctrination that this company had thrown on me. That is the thing I regret the most.

So please, if you find yourself in one of these companies, GET OUT. Whether they’re online or d2d, your mental health, physical health, and your social well-being are not worth these ridiculous, materialistic ideas they throw on you.

[themaddynocon]

Dario the Bachelor

I’m sure you have a few questions: Who is Dario? Why was he the Bachelor? What does this have to do with you, Madison?

Let me explain.

So, I listen to a radio show based in San Diego, CA called “Rock 105.3”. Their international phone screener (Dario) has been single for a while, so they decided to host, “Dario the Bachelor” at the local Dave & Busters.

Now, how this works is ladies 21+ applied via their website to compete for his “love”. You had to write a little about yourself, why you would want to date Dario, and submit a picture. If you were one of the ladies selected (they chose 10 total), you would have to take a nerd test, compete in a game, and also answer a “Dario Scenario”. This is all intermixed with one on ones, rose ceremonies, and a fantasy suite for one lucky gal. Did I mention that this is all very public and in front of hundreds of people? (Besides the fantasy suite, hey-o!)

Okay, I know what you’re thinking. Participating is a ballsy move! And, it was. It took a lot of convincing from friends and coworkers to actually sign up. I bet you’re also wondering, is Dario worth ALL that!? Guess you’ll have to keep reading to find that out (insert suspense here!)

Fast forward to a week or so after applying; It’s the night before. I get a call from the station that I was selected to be a part of the event. My first thoughts are “they must have run out of women and I was like the last one they called” and “holy crap, $#!+ just got real”. The only information I was given at this time was to “wear a cute cocktail dress”. Fun fact, I went and bought my dress that night!

I don’t know about you guys, but I have a tendency to overthink things. I can be spontaneous, but knowing details and having plans is my comfort zone. I like to know what I am walking into, and I basically walked into this blind. I had 24 hours to prepare, and had no clue how to prepare for any of it! 

Then in what felt like the blink of an eye, it was time to head over. I had gotten off work, did my hair (toss), checked my nails; How was I feeling? Feeling good as hell! But also, nervous as hell!

I ended up getting to the venue a little early. As soon as I walked in, I felt eyes on me. You know how you can just tell when people are staring at you? There were already a bunch of P1′s (what they call fans of the show) there scoping out the contestants. I quickly checked in and realized it was also still too early to enter the venue room, so I decided to hang out in the bathroom (I was told that’s where the other girls that had arrived early had gone too). 

I had no idea what to expect, but I knew that I wanted to make friends from the get-go. Let’s be honest; Bitches can be cray. I did not want to be on anyone’s bad side. Luckily, every girl that I talked to ended up being super sweet! I was relieved that it was nothing like the actually show, The Bachelor. All of the ladies that competed were awesome, and I even made a few new friends! 

Then, it was actually time for all the contestants to go on stage. Here’s where things got more interesting. They had us line up in a specific order (random side note, I noticed that I was set as the 7th lady in line, which is my lucky number!) and then we would walk up on stage, introduce ourselves to Dario, and then line up on the other side. Clearly I was not paying attention, because when it was my turn, I said my hello and quickly tried to clear the stage for the other girl to have her chance to say hello. I ran past my spot where I was supposed to line up and the host started yelling at me to come back! Naturally this became one of the running jokes of the night (pun intended). For those of you who know me personally, we all saw this coming. We all knew I was going to do something awkard and embarrassing; It’s just who I am. 

Then, the first event started. This was the “Nerd Test”. I am happy to report that I actually knew most of the answers to the questions he asked (they were pretty high-level nerd questions though). It’s funny how you can know the answer to something and then when you’re put on the spot in front of a crowd, everything you thought you knew goes out the window. He asked me what Spider-Man’s Aunt’s name is, and for the life of me I could not remember it at first. I ended up getting the answer right, but he chose another girl for the first one-on-one. They went off and we had our first break. 

During this first break was when I realized that not only did friends come, but a good grip of my family came too! I was NOT expecting this at all (More on this later). Then after a few minutes, it was time for the first rose ceremony. 

The girl who got the one on one was obviously safe, so he had to choose 6 more girls to keep, meaning 3 were sent home. I was chosen, and then we went right into the next part of the event: Ski Ball!

Ski Ball did not go so well for me, and I actually think that I might have done second worst of the entire group (LOL). One of the girls that was towards the back of the line ended up killing it though! It was super fun to cheer her on. She literally crushed everyone, and naturally, was given the second one on one. After that, he had to choose 3 other girls, and I somehow managed to make it to the next round (clearly not based on my ski ball skills lol).

Things got a little interesting during this next break though. A girl that recieved an invitation to be a contestant apparently didn’t see it until the event had already started, so she rushed over to the venue and asked if she could still compete. This is where my family comes back into the story. Throughout the evening, my dad had been yelling stuff like “You can do it” and other embarrassing things about me (luckily this was not all heard on stage lol). But, when Dario was asked if he should give this girl a chance, my dad kept yelling “She’s a person too” Let her in!” which I thought was hilarious. But! Dario quizzed her and she did not pass, so she was not allowed to join the contest.

After this, the 3 other remaining contestants and I were brought back to the stage for “Dario Scenarios”. This are situations that might arise if we were dating Dario; He wanted to know how we would handle them. I was up first, and he asked me about costumes for Halloween. More specifically, if I wanted to be a character from Star Wars and he wanted to be a character from the MCU, how would we compromise? Of course in the moment, I was like it really depends on which character from the MCU because I love both franchises. He said he would be Captain America, and I said I would be Lady Thor. Thinking about it after my turn, I would have asked him if he would considered dressing as Star Wars if I dressed as Slave Leia, but again, in the moment with hundreds of people watching, it can be hard to think on your toes. 

Well, apparently he liked my Lady Thor answer, becasuse I was whisked away to the Fantasy Suite! AKA a photo booth with chairs in it at the back of Dave & Busters.

So, I will not disclose what happened in the Fantasy Suite, but I will say that we got to know each other a little better, and that I did think that there was a connection! We were in there for about 10 minutes and then they came and grabbed us.

After the Fantasy Suite, Dario had to choose one other girl to keep, and then it was just a choice between that girl and myself. After he chose the other girl, he was given more time to process his final selection. 

Then, he came back to the stage, rose in hand. I was in the back of the room, so it took me a while to make my way back to the stage (awkwardly the other girl was already up there so they made another joke about me running away again lol). After a lot of talking, rambling, and jokes, he asked me if I would accept the final rose! 

Everyone (well, a lot of people) started cheering and chanting. Then, I realized they were chanting something... but what was it? Mesos? Pesos? I had to ask him, and they were chanting BESOS (mi español es malo jaja) So, after contemplating that for a second, we ended up kissing on stage in front of everyone (LOL). After that we took some pictures, and I was told to wait on the side of the room for him to come and talk to me. I thought this was awkward cause everyone was flooding the stage, but, the promotions team insisted I wait there. 

After this, he met my friends, some of my family, and then I met his siblings. We ended up hanging out for a few hours after the event, playing games, getting to know each other, etc. We ended up winning enough tickets to be able to both take home a commemorative shot glass. All in all, I thought it had gone really well! 

A lot of people are asking me what happens from here, and the honest answer is I am really not sure. I think the ball is in his court now!

It is surprising to say, but I had the best time. My family and friends are still raving about how much fun that night was! Even if nothing ever comes of it, I am grateful for the opportunity to do something out of my usual; Something that made me step out of my comfort zone. I put myself out there, and it worked out for me. You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take! This is such a good reminder to shoot your shot! Life is too short!

Here are a couple pictures from the event:

[the-first-date]

A conversation with Emma Zack [27/F/Brooklyn]

Madge Maril: Hello Emma!! Thank you for joining me on gchat this lovely evening. What are you up to today?

Emma Zack: HEY DARLIN! I'm here at my desk, doing my job. You know, the usual.

MM: Yes! Usual. What's your job?

EZ: Suppose you could say I have two! My day job (9-5) is as the publications manager at the Innocence Project. My other job, which only recently turned into another full-time job, is being the owner of a plus-sized vintage shop, Berriez!

MM: Well now I have to ask how you got into both.

EZ: Haha. Do it.

MM: How did you get into these two very different positions?

EZ: I'll start with the Innocence Project. I've studied prisons/criminology since I was a freshman in college. I worked in prisons/in the criminal justice sphere in college, and after college, decided that I wanted to continue on this path. I got a job at the Innocence Program in Boston, which then led me to the Innocence Project in NYC! And as for Berriez, I started it because I needed a hobby. I was (and still am tbh) really depressed, and needed something to get my mind smiling. Also, I had a bunch of clothing. Also also, I was shopping vintage online often and was never finding my size. So, all of those factors led me to start Berriez!

MM: So many questions — but maybe the weirdest one first. So you're from Boston, and now you live in NYC. What's that experience like? Do you feel like a cool New Yorker? I've heard that's a feeling.

EZ: Lol!! Quite the opposite, really. I oftentimes feel like a loser. I am a homebody and rarely leave the house, unlike most New Yorkers. Also, I move at a very slow pace, and New York is so. Freakin. Fast. It's hard to keep up. But, I will say that it's 854930574389574 times better than boring ole Boston!

MM: I've also heard about this fast pace. But honestly I don't think I know what it means? Is it more just how busy people are? 

EZ: It's the strangest thing. Since I moved to New York, I've developed insomnia, am bad at responding to texts/keeping in touch with people (which I used to be so good at before NYC), and seeing people — even my best friends — is hard because everyone is just so "busy." Not sure what we're all doing, but all I know is that we're busy. Also, let's talk about how everyone here walks fast. I truly can't keep up. I walk so slow, and people make fun of me for it all the time… like, let a girl walk at her own pace!

MM: Hahaha that's really all I've ever connected in my brain before when I've heard about New Yorkers pace — like a literal fast walking pace. 

EZ: It's true!

MM: And I know you have a ~ partner. Did y'all meet in Boston or NYC?

EZ: Nope, we met here in NYC!

MM: What was that like? Do you think the NYC climate of fast-paced energy affected it at all? 

EZ: What was meeting my partner in NYC like?

MM: Yeah! It seems so idyllic to me, a midwesterner, while also seeming like it could be intense with how busy people are.

EZ: Oh yeah, it really just kind of happened. And I met him only a month after I moved here! It was so unplanned. When we met, I knew there was something there, something special. I wouldn't say it was NYC though — I'd say it was the ~universe~ and the timing of it all meeting each other at certain points in our lives where we could commit to each other, etc.

MM: So do you believe in fate?

EZ: Lol, no.

MM: Hahahaha.

EZ: But I believe that everything happens for a reason? Bad or good? Is that fate? I don't think so. I also don't believe in "1 tru luv.”

MM: I don't think I do either! Though I really did as a kid. Like X Files... I want to believe.

EZ: Totally… I did too! But not anymore, even though I love my partner so much. And want to stay with him.

MM: I think those two things can co exist, because same for me with mine — a love, but also realizing that there have been other people, and could be other people, and that you're actively choosing this one person right now though.

EZ: Exactly!

MM: Also while I am extremely enjoying this I can feel the unseen reader wanting me to ask you about Berriez. 

EZ: Of course, of course. Lemme hear the questions!

MM: Where to begin! You mentioned a lot that I want to know more about — starting a business (can't imagine), starting a business with depression, online vintage, plus-size vintage. Can you tell me more about any of those things, whatever you want to tell me about?

EZ: Hmmmmmm. Well, I suppose when I started Berriez (formerly known as Fruity Looms), I didn't intend for it to be a "Business.” Or, rather, I didn't think of it as a business. I just thought of it as something I was doing in my free time with my friends (who would model for me).

MM: RIP Fruity Looms.

EZ: RIP FRUITY LOOMS 💔. It started to take off about 4 months in I'd say, that's when it started to get a bit more busy. Then, over the summer, it truly turned into a "business"/full-time job… it's still something I do in my free time, but it's no longer a hobby per se. It's a job. I still love it with all my heart! It's just a lot more work than when I started.

MM: I was about to ask — that can be hard, right? Turning a passion project into a job. I feel like it's not something that's talked about a lot, and people really idealize creatives who get to work in their own creative fields — especially fashion because glamour! Glam! But then there's this unspoken weight where you've morphed something you love into your "Career.”

EZ: Yup!! It's very weird, and I'm in this strange place where I really don't know what I'm doing or what I want to do, because I've done criminal justice work for so long, and Berriez really just popped in out of nowhere… do I want to take that risk? Leaving criminal justice to pursue Berriez full-time? I don't know! I suppose I could always go back. It doesn't seem reliable to me. It's scary.

MM: Why? 

EZ: Well... money, for starters! And I work well having a set schedule. Wake up at 6 to work on Berriez, go to my other job, come home to work on Berriez. If I didn't have my other job, would it be hard for me to fill that time? Would I be strict enough with myself? Also, when I don't have structure, I fall into a depression. Although, shit, I'm depressed now and I have all the structure in the world! Also side note: not glamorizing this busy NYC lifestyle. It is not fun. It is not healthy. Wow, am I talking too much? It's like you're my therapist or something. Lemme take a step back, ha!

MM: Omg no. I love it! Please talk about this as much as you like. I think it's all important, especially the reality that goes on behind the Instagram screen (poetry, I know). Because real talk when I first met you online, I was like wow! Look at her! Doing it all! Fashion! Rising star! It's so easy to project those sort of things online.

EZ: Yep, yep. Instagram is a ~facade~ amiright?!?! Lmaoooo!! In reality... I'm just a homebody/stoner/depressed/anxious/chronically ill/loving gal.

MM: Which is so much better! And realer! Is it odd to interact with so many people in Berriez and also the Innocence Project that are sort of living that facade, do-it-all life? I feel like fashion and law may have close ties; it's all very ~chic~ non?

EZ: YES YES YES. Everyone's just trying to do it all and take care of themselves. But who are we doing it all for? That's what I've been asking myself lately.

MM: Do you feel like this intensity affects your style, and how you dress at work or on Instagram (your other work)? 

EZ: Interesting question. I've never thought about it that way. I feel like Berriez has really really really helped me ~find my style~ which is like, middle school art teacher... Lol. Lots of color, lots of fun, lots of patterns. 

I'm a bigger gal, but I don't give a fuck if something isn't "flattering" per se. I come to my day job at the IP dressed like this too, since we don't have a dress code. And I am always getting compliments from my coworkers! Although they may think I'm a little nutty. Today I am wearing space buns, a red and white checkered long sleeve shirt, rhinestone hoops, vintage Levi’s, and these funny looking boots. Oh well. Did that answer your question at all? Ha.

MM: Yes!! Were you surprised when your own personal aesthetic caught on online via Berriez? Not because it's ~weird~ (to me... It is perfect) but because I'd personally find it so nice/scary/surprising if the style I'd curated, my look, resonated with people like yours does.

EZ: I guess, like, I never thought of myself as having an "aesthetic." I've kind of just always worn what I wanted to/who I've been inspired by. My friends though have always told me that I have great style and encouraged me to start a public Instagram for my outfits, but I've always been too shy. With Berriez, I can do that without showing my face!

MM: Aw, that is so sweet. And so what does Emma Zack, stylish person, wear on a first date? 

EZ: Hahahaha! I can tell you exactly what I wore on my first date with Aja. Which was three years ago, by the way! I would never wear this now. I wore tan Clarks, black opaque tights, a hunter green bodycon turtleneck midi dress (that really accentuated my curves), and a black bomber jacket. My goal was to show off my body in a modest way!

MM: Sensible. Sexy. So this would've been 2016?

EZ: Yep! Today... Hmm. I would probably still wear something to show off my body. I love my curves.

MM: Oh I'm a big show-off-on-the-first-date person. I wore the tiniest black dress on my first date with my bf. And it was also a turtleneck! I am just now realizing. I felt like it gave me that "I read books" vibe. 

EZ: Hahaha, yup! Lol. For me it was, "I listen to jazz."

MM:: Yes! Because you're a jazz singer, right? Also would love to hear about your perfume/makeup combo if you remember it! 

EZ: Yup! I sing jazz! That used to be my hobby, until I moved to New York and convinced myself that I wasn't good enough! Ha ha ha. Oh yes, I definitely remember it. I don't wear much makeup in general, so I was wearing mascara, concealer under my eyes, and maybe some chapstick! As for perfume, I was wearing Cannabis Santal by Fresh.

MM: What comes first for you, outfit or makeup or perfume? 

EZ: Outfit, always! Makeup, I don't know how to put on makeup, so I always just wear the same thing. Perfume, I rotate between the same three perfumes (that are all musky).

MM: Which are?

EZ: The cannabis one, and then these two perfume oils that I can't remember the names of.

MM: Haha it's ok! I live for musk. This is maybe tangentially related but it's where my brain is going... How do you stay authentic to yourself? I feel like as soon as I started working in fashion, I had this huge feeling of shame, that I wasn't dressing right or knew the right stuff. Do you feel that? How do you defeat it? 

EZ: I guess I don't feel it because I don't feel like I work in fashion? I mean, I suppose I do work in "fashion" or whatever, but the stakes aren't as high as working at a magazine or a blog or whatever! I just wear what I like at this point. Or what I feel like wearing! 

And, as I've gotten older and more comfortable with myself, I've started to give less of a shit about what other people think of me or the way I dress. Don't get me wrong though, sometimes I'm totally like, do I look insane??? If I go to an event dressed like this, will I fit in?!

MM: Yes! Those are my main feelings, as someone who used to wear a ton of color and print and has been shying away from it.

EZ: Meh. Sometimes I feel like Berriez to be more minimal, and I need to sell more earth tones and plain shit like most vintage shops do. But that's just not me, that's never been me. I'm a straight-up maximalist hahahaha! That's not who Berriez is or why people like it!

MM: I really admire that about you! And your business! And that you have a business, haha. 

EZ: Lol at me having a business.

MM: You do! You truly do!! Final question, since I know we've been chatting for a minute — how was your last first date? 

EZ: Welp, it was in a dark bar, and it was with a cute dude who I'm still with to this day! So, I guess you could say it was a good one. 😉

MM: Ooooooo I would say so! Thank you so much for talking to me about so many things. Do you have any digital spaces you want to shout out?

EZ: Of course!! Thank you for asking me to talk!! I'm honored!!  No, just @shopberriez!!! 😉❤

MM: You heard it hear first folks. Go follow the shop. Here*. Wow. Ok. 

EZ: LOLOL!a

[aidoru-ojisan]

Hey, now that majority of the Anime of Summer 2017 have been released I guess it’s finally time for me to give all of you my thoughts on the Anime that I have watched this season, I will also be giving an overall rating based on the first episodes and if it’s worth watching or not! Now let’s start!

MB Oji-san’s thoughts on Summer 2017 Anime

1. Action Heroine Cheer Fruits: So apparently this series focuses on a group of... I believe middle school students, try gaining more visitors to their small home town by creating their own action hero group, which is a popular trend in their year... The series does have quite a simple concept and the character designs are quite nice, a cute girls doing cute things show that has actual goals, kinda reminds me of Sakura Quest with the concept of bringing visitors to a small town in the country but lacks the all the amazing things it has, it’s something easy to watch but nothing fantastic, 6/10 (Try at least 3 episodes if you want to give it a shot) *Update: Dropped, I have better things to do rather than watch a sub-par show about a group of girls becoming a live action hero group. Would have probably enjoyed this if I was still a kid

2. Ballroom e Youkoso: I’ve seen this series jokingly called, “The Straight Yuri on Ice!!” that got a bit of a chuckle from me, but knowing that I was never a big fan of any form of dancing I knew that this series would have to do a lot to get me invested to keep watching it, and surprisingly it did, aside from the designs of Haikyuu! the soundtrack and animation of this show is pretty great and I find it quite amazing that our MC who was questioning himself about his future managed to gain such a great passion of ballroom dancing just from watching his now current tutor doing the art himself during a competition, not to mention all the girls in this show seem really cute (especially the one voice by Sakura Ayane) 8/10 (I highly recommend this show, one of the best of this season but do the three episode rule also if you find yourself losing interest afterwards)

3.  Battle Girl High School - Apparently this is a mix of idol and cute girls fight monsters to save the planet series? Well this show has plenty of cute girls, yet the designs are kinda weak (that one girl that looks like Miria from Cinderella Girls always bugs me tbh) the plot is nothing too special, would be something you can get from some random Anime phone game, which this Anime originated from, but tbh some scenes are cute and I did follow this series closely because one of the girls are voiced by Ozora Akari’s seiyuu so... this show might not be for everyone but watch if it if you want to watch cute girls doing cute things while saving the world 6/10 (3 episode rule) *Want to drop, but cannot due to Akari’s VA voicing one of the girls

4.  Centaur no Nayami - Here we have this season’s monster girl series... and honestly I find it a bit lacking compared to Winter’s Demi-chan... sure this series may have some Yuri undertones and cute girls but I find this world’s underlining politics and evolution system a bit unsettling... which is apparently connected to the story of our main cast later on but it seems just so oppressive despite the series’ cute SOL look, it’s good though and if you like cute monster girls go ahead and watch it 7/10 (3 episode rule at best) 

5.  Fate/Apocrypha - Astolfo, Modred, and Jeanne D’Arc, that should be enough for you to watch this Fate series 8.5/10 (Go ahead and watch it, no need to watch all the Fate series, you still should but this is set in an alternate universe) *Update, Changing the score to a 7, not even Astolfo can save this series

6. Hajimete no Gal - the goddamn MC of this series does not deserve Yukana... despite the stereotypes of gyarus, she’s a sweet girl who’s way out of the dude’s league and you almost want to punch him for all the stupid things he does later in the series 6.7/10 (3 episode rule, or watch if you’re a harem ecchi fan) *Want to drop but can’t, I want to see if Yukana dumps the MC’s sorry idiotic ass

7.  Hina Logi ~from Luck & Logic~ - This spin-off of the Lock & Logic series has got to be one of the Animes of Summer 2017 that has impressed me the most, despite having a much more moe style compared to the original series, Hina Logi’s OP animated with paper cut-outs was honestly SUPER IMPRESSIVE, it has got to be my fave OP animation of this season. Not to mention the action scenes are impressive as well, the character designs are nothing to write home and this show does have it’s own share of fan service but it’s honestly pretty fun! 7.5/10 (Watch the original Luck & Logic if you wish to view this one, the original is pretty good would rate it the same score as Hina Logi)

8.  Isekai Shokudou - honestly one of the best looking shows this season, despite not having too much of a fantasic plot, you can call this series “the fantasy version of Shokugeki no Soma without foodgasms” well sexual ones at least, but just a simple laid back series about a regular restaurant owner serving customers from another world with his cute fantasy world coworkers 8/10 (highly recommend, watch if you want a nice looking laid back series)

9. Kakegurui - man the ugly facial expressions... the stakes of the gambling games... the GREAT OP but s**tty ED... the fan service... this is actually a really good series tbh 7.8/10 (I recommend it, watch it if you want a well animated series with some nice psychological moments and high stakes)

10. Katsugeki Touken Ranbu - Ufotable + Samurais??????.... it’s OK 7.5/10 (3 episode rule at best)

11. Knight's & Magic - Honestly I feel like this series is being over hyped, I don’t know if it’s because the main character that was formerly just a working programmer mecha otaku who is reincarnated as a pretty boy voiced by Megumin’s seiyuu or good ol’ Chu Chu Yeah! fhana singing the OP (tbh I kinda feel the opening to be one of her weaker songs but eh that’s me) but I can hand it to this series for having well animated robot fight scenes and monsters, I’m kind of a hipster so I hate over hyped series but as a reviewer I will not let this effect the score I’ll be giving it 7.5/10 (I recommend it to people who want a pretty good looking isekai series with some badass looking mechas)

12. Koi to Uso - Despite the character designs of this series seeming a bit wacky sometimes, the coloring of this series is absolutely beautiful, and can I just say the concept of government arranged marriages to counter Japan’s declining child birth rate and Lilina was enough to get me to read all the released chapters of the Manga? Heads up, Yusuke is best girl 8/10 (highly recommend if you’re into good romance with some drama) 

13. Made in Abyss - Such simplistic character designs yet unique... such a wonderful soundtrack that I was only wishing it could be Post-Rock... wonderful world building of a world so beautiful... this show is also apparently super dark so as a Metal fan... beauty within the darkness is greatly appreciated 9/10 (HIGHLY RECOMMEND but warning, the source of this series shows that the Anime can get SUPER DARK in later episodes so I’ll be giving you a heads up just in case you can’t stomach it, one of my fave Animes of 2017 next to Tsuki ga Kirei)

14.  New Game!! - OVERRATED but... nice Yuri vibes, fan service, cute characters and scenes eh 7.5/10 (watch if you have seen the 1st season)

15. Princess Principal - I just can’t get over the character design choice of this series... moe despite being a serious edgy steam punk spy series... well edgy moe series like Yuuki Yuuna are masterpieces so I won’t let it bug me too much, the OST and scenery of this series is great 7.8/10 (watch if you want cute girls doing edgy spy stuff)

16. Tenshi no 3P! - lolis and some loner teenage dude make music, the ED is pretty Metal but god... dude gonna go to jail 6.5/10 (eh 3 episode rule unless you like lolis go for it) *Update: Dropped! I don’t care for the “Metal that’s always used in Anime” ED, I’m not watching this obvious as f**k Lolibait

17.  Youkai Apartment no Yuuga na Nichijou - this has an old anime vibes, which isn’t a negative statement, it’s positive, simply an Anime about a dude who wants to live in his high school's dorms so that he wouldn’t be a burden to his uncle and his family ever since losing his parents and residing in their house, sadly said dorm is burned down in a fire and he ends up living in a supernatural apartment and finding out he has powers to help others, a really nice laid back series the soundtrack choice can suck at times and the character design and coloring is nothing special but I can feel heart in this series 7.5/10 (3 episode rule at best)

18. Youkoso Jitsuryoku Shijou Shugi no Kyoushitsu e - this series impresses me, not only with the great coloring and each character have unique individual designs, just the usage of quotes from writers of great and the concept of the students in the school these series takes place in with only the superior classes only truly mattering is a bit cliched but interesting 7.8/10 (3 episode rule at best)

19.  Aho-Girl - Funny as heck and short, always making for a good laugh and the fan service in this show merely makes me laugh compared to being aroused, love the voice choices for A-Kun and Yoshiko, reminds me of Yusuke and Futaba from P5 8/10 (highly recommend if you want to laugh)

20. Netsuzou Trap -NTR-: Only 10 minutes or less per episode???? DISAPPOINTED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Well this series already makes me feel conflicted despite being Yuri but damn the Anime ain’t nothing special aside from that 7/10 (uh want Yuri which is super rare, watch it but the NTR element will make you question yourself)

21. Tsurezure Children - Nice, short good romance comedy Anime, makes your heart skip a beat while laughing 8/10 (watch if you want a good short romcom series)

22. Gamers! - I honestly wonder how the studio got all the rights to use all those game refrences, suprisingly is quite a good watch despite the MC being kind of a wimp 7/10 (Watch if you like a different formula to the “club” genre)

23. Teekyu S9 - Time for more wacky Teekyu stuff 6.5/10 (uh you should pretty watch all 8 previous seasons if you want to watch this)

24. Isekai wa Smartphone to Tomo ni. - tbh a decent isekai series, not too much of that generic crap and every action the characters do feels meaningful 7/10 (Watch if you want something that’s a mix of serious and comedy isekai)

THOUGHTS ON CONTINUING SHOWS

Aikatsu Stars - Koharu’s back and that’s all I need 7/10 (honestly I see the writers are pulling a “Love Live!” writers move and might make all the future episodes way too similar to the 1st series, which sucks since Stars! felt pretty OK despite the low ratings)

Re:Creators - Overrated, that’s all, this show is getting boring, the girl from the Eroge is saving this show 7/10 

Shingeki no Bamahaut: Virgin Soul - Still good, I’m just wondering if Nina will be OK, cause I don’t want anything bad happening to her 8/10

Boku no Hero Academia - I love Ochako, that is all 8.5/10

Sakura Quest - the new OP and ED are “meh” compared to the first ones but the 2nd cour seems pretty good and it was pleasant to hear fluent Spanish in an Anime of all places 8/10

Sagrada Rest - DROPPED, but it’s OK, JJBA Part 5 will come after this boring ass show too ded for me/10

[myvelouri]

Okay so I'm off of work today. I confronted my boss/manager. All went well. I ended it with a "girl, bye" lmao. My coworker started cracking up. Like seriously though, the reasonings for me being yelled at and treated like shit were ridiculous. My manager took back one of the things she did. So fine. I can be intimidating so as she was leaving she said BYE and my name. Lmao I just cracked up. I went over to her and I hugged her.

I didn't want to fight, so I mean yeah. I can fight, I can easily be an asshole, don't start shit with me. I'm very loving though, so of course I'd end it with a hug. I called her out on everything she said about me. It's aight.

I ain't quitting just yet. There was a new girl they are hiring and she was absolutely beautiful! Petite, tattoos, had a dress on, a choker! I love chokers!! And she was cute as fuck. I caught her looking at me a few times. Doesn't mean she was checking me out. I'm sure she has a boyfriend, she's way too cute.

Uh, I talked to my other co-worker that I love! He's an old retired cop. Hispanic. He's always out doing fun stuff, has a huge family. He's so sweet honestly. We talk about girls lmao. There was this gorgeous asian woman that came in, then this younger Hispanic girl, THEN this attractive older white lady with her cleavage out there, she said hello to us all flirty, hahahaha. My dude was making jokes and shit to me. Like, I was still in awe at that beautiful asian gal. Okay anyway, he says he and his wife go to strip clubs together! I'm like, whoa! That's kind awesome haha. But I told him it's mean to say to his wife that one of the girls was so attractive that he'd leave her for her. He said she doesn't care about that because they are extremely tight and that even his wife was saying that gal was gorgeous. Idk. They're an interesting couple.

Omfg another thing. I was working there register today. A lady came in and had a CUTE BABY. The baby was almost a toddler and MY GOD she was so fucking cute, so adorable. I told the mom "omg she's so cute" and the baby was making cute squishy face. She was so adorable other people stopped to baby talk to her lmao smh. But yeah. I was like. Um. I always wanted a daughter if I were to have a kid. But I'd want her to be that tiny little baby bean. With her cute big eyes and long silly hair. Aw. She was SO cute. I don't have baby fever, lmao, chill.

It was an okay day. I'm so tired. I saw a pro cashier working today and she's been there forever, she made same mistakes I do, she was as fast as I am... It's such bullshit that people think I'm slow on the register. I still think about that bullshit message. I hate that.

I'ma drive home now. I got some underwear too.

Man I wish I could sing properly already, and scream. I have some projects I want to finish. I can write songs, but I want to be better to write songs that are really in my head and kind of difficult. But anyway

Byyyyeeee

[eugenio35t5971-blog]

Used To Get Rich.

The media wants to coat a particular photo of exactly what that means to become wealthy-- huge mansions, expensive autos, high-powered Stock market or tech-startup-type jobs. Financial investments as well as discounts have actually connected with an aspect where our company could now bring in some large improvements in our lifestyles. To earn that crystal clear this is just what I would certainly get in touch with stuff like autos, vehicle parts, TV's, Video gamers etc If you are one of these wealthy males silently experiencing in the room, then that is time to discover a solution. The milk is actually also very rich in blood potassium, necessary body fats, minerals and various other necessary component for appropriate hair development. If you have any questions pertaining to where and how you can utilize mountains in scotland skiing (saludesme.es), you can contact us at the web page. 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I have also observed new-age sort of people speaking along with disdain concerning loan, and stating that money doesn't create you delighted," and rich people are actually butts," and also different other claims that show repugnance for money. That will definitely be hard to come to be abundant as well as it will take a while (count 1 or even 2 years before you gain a pleasant volume of fans). I encounter many people that would like to create numerous bucks ... yet they hesitate of being self-employed. However just before carrying out Any One Of that you must make sure you possess something folks prefer. My point is if you assume you are certainly not acquiring rich from amount 30-50, bare the hardships, because after that time frame you are going to discover your purse overflooded with mesos. Avoid making changes that are going to make you look suspect and also acute, wealthy guys don't just like such gals. That is actually why the only method to end up being definitely abundant monetarily as well as truly rich personally-in other terms truly, truly rich-is to begin your very own company. Once you have found out that your product is valuable, you will certainly need to employ or help make somebody to earn a prototype. This psychological despair starts along with the mid training class - a production from the previous century - as well as for those people elevated in the collection bestriding minority abundant and bulk inadequate, our company are very likely to be either the initial or even 2nd generation to be drawing in big dollars. When you increase your own crops in your home you are performing that usually natural which causes rich taste and also tasty dishes after!. The ThinkUp application offers an unique combination of customized confirmations documented in the individual's own vocal, blended along with his/her beloved approach is actually verified to make a much bigger effect on the mind and also assisting to obtain results a lot faster. There are many individuals and also writers, speaks as well as instructors which create consistent recommendation to a specific rule from attraction. They are relying upon random good luck to bail all of them out in lifestyle instead of the option good fortune that the wealthy count on. Betting includes risk you have no command over. Permit's face it, the world contains products that never get to initial bottom, however those items that perform make it to the marketplace may make their inventor very wealthy. We have actually found that pastry dental fillings and desserts make a much better filler for cheesecakes than carries out gelatin. The biscuits are baked twice to get rid of dampness and also make all of them hard, dry, and crumbly. Portion of the excessive weight as well as diabetes mellitus outbreaks are related to extensive amounts from enhanced sweets included in meals and consume that properly make all of them much more tasty and addictive - but the even more you eat the greater the danger of diabetic issues for example. If you're seeking the best budget friendly trip coming from Zadar Airport, Lukas and his coworkers can easily ensure that you as well as your baggage get to as well as from the airport terminal promptly and also carefully. Because I understand I could create adequate loan to live on whilst giving market value to my clients. I prize the consistency from employment income, though I'm perfectly ware from because you never acquire abundant working with somebody else I managed a provider on the side for a number of years, however that was actually hindered by volume of time I had, and I am only unable the feast-and-famine profit from the self-employed. Could you make a video about the means our company can deal with limiting opinions as well as change them with encouraging ones. To obtain abundant could symbolize safety and security, a really good heath safety, a really good home, an extraordinary car, to travel around the globe therefore a lot of other things. Prosperous people trigger scarcity." Our politicians do not perform good enough for the poor." My parents were drunks." My little ones slouch." I heard it all. Unlike the 90's when it was actually just called a rich oil reserve of the globe, Dubai, today gains from simply 10% from its own income off oil as well as a very major part from its tourism industry. Always keep going, as many readers do, and also you may conserve closer to 75% from exactly what you make - particularly for those along with above-average incomes. Yet do not obtain also mad at the abundant for claiming this - our experts should not, as a rule, obtain as furious at people for being actually unaware as we should when they are actually being purposefully wicked. Anguilla possesses miles and also kilometers of remarkably clear white colored sand coastlines, possesses surprisingly lavish resorts and is actually a place for the wealthy and renowned. This Money Master plan (our opinions and affiliations around amount of money and also wealth) is actually controlling every selection we make and every action our team absorb our lives in the direction of loan. I really love Donald, and also he would certainly make a terrific president Leading, he tells the truth. Along with heightened unpredictability happens greater volatility, which will create that hard for policymakers, including U.S. Federal Reserve authorities thought about the international expectation, to identify exactly what to carry out next. I have actually additionally joined to your headlines character and also are going to buy from your Abundant Habits book to maintain as a regular endorsement. And they'll be actually pleased, and they'll adore it, and they'll create far more compared to they will've ever before helped make, as well as they'll be actually-- they'll be actually accomplishing this effectively, as well as our company're mosting likely to be actually growing as a country, flourishing. Grains are incredibly nourishing and also produce an excellent breakfast food, yet not any brand or even type creates an excellent option. If you want to create a female sexual climax swiftly and effectively, our team must re-awaken her sexuality. The unsatisfactory were never taught this Rich Habit through their parents, so they don't participate in this offering activity. Be sure that the franchisor provides you a total listing of existing franchisees and also performs not 'cherry selection' the effective ones for you to contact. Consult with as well as visit as many as achievable. Begin investing more and more opportunity on your Wealthy Relationships as well as less on your Destitution Relationships. Such effects may cause improvements in certain carp level of sensitivities that create them change their practices to ensure that when on a regular basis introduced drugs within baits change carp eating practices in your distinct favor. Our quest right into area will definitely not just make us more powerful as well as even more blooming, however will join our team behind huge passions and take all of us closer together. Contributed to because there is actually no previously owned smoke or even pungent scents which make Smokebot feasible to smoke any place most smoking bans are present.

[yes-dal456]

Fat Bottom Girl

“Left alone with big fat fanny She was such a naughty nanny Heap big woman you made a bad boy out of me” – Brian May

The sticky, sweet smell of cotton candy combined with the stench coming from the animals, and mixed with the iron taste of diesel fuel. It was an odor particular to the carnival that she would never forget.

The word carnival has two meanings. First, according to Webster:

A period of public revelry each year that takes place before Lent; and second, A traveling amusement show.

Circus folks, whom I have interviewed extensively, are quick to point out the differences between them and carnival folk or more derogatory “carneys.” The circus, burlesque, and other forms of early American pop culture have been the target of my work over the past decade. After meeting someone who essentially grew up on the carnival grounds I thought I should take a look at the life of the showgirls in the carnival. Many of my burlesque ladies had certainly worked the carnival circuit including stars Sally Rand and Gypsy Rose Lee, making gobs of money with their Royal American Girlie Shows. According to Sally Rand’s son Sean, it was Gypsy who encouraged his mother to join the grueling schedule of upwards of 30 shows a day for thousands across America.

But before we get into that let’s examine carnival.

The carnivals were ― and are ― loaded with games of chance, heavily favored on the side of the concessionaires who run, and lure and can cheat the carnival rubes out of hard earned quarters (at least back when a quarter meant something). There was of course the side show with real and bogus “Freaks” and death-defying rides. With its geneses in the Chicago Columbian Exposition of 1893 the carnival would become known as a raucous, popcorn smelling afternoon where one tried to hang on to their wallets walking the midway. Staring in the mid-1920s most carnivals set up in a field or wherever they could for several days and took in thousands in attendance. Folks were bug-eyed over scandalously skimpy-dressed beauties and freaks of nature. Staged shows under the tens included many of the biggest vaudeville acts of the early 20th century. The freak show, which included animals as well, employed many with abnormal physicality, such as Daisy and Violet Hilton, the subject of my documentary “Bound By Flesh.” The Siamese bound sisters were stars on both the vaudeville stage and carnival and circus circuits.

Like in the circus, many who felt they didn’t belong in the “real world” ran away and joined a carnival, sometimes for the first time in their lives finding a home and communion with like people. Oddities, outcasts, disenfranchised. There was every sort from the obvious runaways, drug addicts, perverts, women who had escaped abusive relationships. There were families, perverts. “A lot of temporary and seedy characters.” Everyone was escaping life back home, whether it was too ordinary for them or too troubled. All found a place where they belonged even if just for a season under the canvas amongst others who asked no questions. They were birds of a feather.

When she was about 12 years-old, brown-haired Christy escaped a “mean, drunk little guy” whom her mother had married. “He was beating on my mother,” she recalled, “so I kicked the shit out of him.” Standing 5’8” and weighing between 160 and 170 lbs, her stepfather who stood 5’2” was no match.

Life had been anything but idyllic for Christy in a tiny navy town outside of Seattle, Washington, in the 1950s.

With a beautiful mother who worked various small jobs while raising four kids and an alcoholic stepfather she hated, Christy and her brother Chuckie tried staying out of the way of this pint-sized wife and child beater. Tragedy struck during the summer of Christy’s 8th year of hell on earth. Nine-year-old Chuckie and his best friend Jeff had been goofing around and got hold of a gun which went off in Chuckie’s hand, killing Jeff. It was particularly memorable for Christy, as Jeff had been her first sexual encounter. Yes, at age 8.

Ralph, a family friend, owned a carnival. With the promise that she could work there someday, Christy took to hanging around Ralph and his carney friends. Hanging around the sawdust lots and learning to “buy” a 25-cent soda from a machine for three pennies after shaving the edges to make them the size of dimes she found “sanctuary” from her home life.

Meanwhile, the abuse from her stepfather continued. When he wasn’t drunk, he was regularly beating on his wife and terrorizing the kids.

Running into a travel carnival that pulled into town, Christy begged her mother to let her join. She worked there the entire week the carnival was in town. Soon things went bad at home. “My mom and I decided I shouldn’t be around during the summer.” She turned to Ralph who let her join his operation at age 11 or 12.

She joined the tradition of the roaming life, traveling from town to town, pulling into large lots and anywhere the midway rides could be set. This was in the 1960s when someone her size was not only an oddity but worthy of making a living in the sideshow. By this time in history, the “born freaks” were fewer and far between in the Freak Shows. Still, for a quarter or two one could see two-headed cows, or two-headed chickens. One fake act was the “man eating chicken” who sat and ate a piece of chicken out of the KFC bucket on his lap. Jokes too.

Christy’s size had never bothered her. Everyone in her family was pretty heavy, but Christy was the most eye-catching. She knew people made fun of her. But on the carnival her size brought her a different kind of attention. It was positive and accepting. She would make a successful career both on the midway and on the burlesque stage because of her generous frame and her zest for entertaining.

Christy kept up with her schooling, but started a month late and left a month early until she graduated. By then so in love with her “other life,” she skipped the graduation parties and flew straight to Portland, Oregon, to work a festival and “traveled the rest of [her] life.”

She worked various jobs on the midway; selling tickets, serving food, cooking and counting quarters and rolling them in sleeves. “I loved making money!”

During breaks she rode all the rides, especially thrilling at the Sky Wheel where she could soar above her troubles below. The fun houses with their distorted mirrors was a particular favorite. She learned how the games were rigged. “I was around,” she said, “during the days of big money... and games you could never win.” Though some shows were “Sunday school shows” (meaning honest run) other shows took the rubes for everything which was done by paying off cops and never returning to the town once they pulled up stakes.“Everyone made money.”

Like in the circus, her coworkers were transients. Christy recalled one group of Gypsies from Turkey pickpocketing “marks” on the midway by reading their mannerisms, their clothing, their walk, and even their particular body odors. When not on the midway the Gypsies could be found in the town’s department stores shoplifting (with the help of Christy being the distraction. She would pretend to faint, pulling down a large display case with expensive goods on the way to hitting the ground). So crafty were the Gypsies, sewing inner pockets and such Christy was witness to one girl who carried a television set between her thighs as she coolly walked out the store. It would take a few more heists before Christy’s conscious got the better of her and she quit the extra gig (and the $100 that came with it).

However, her training among the Gypsies educated her in how to read the marks on the midway and she was hired to be what was called an “agent.” An agent leads a customer to a particular game he or she seemed best suited too. They then encourage the mark to spend, spend, spend.

Jamming the midway were kiosks or individual booths. They were plentiful and varied. There were psychic readings of palm and crystal balls, “knife sharpening, religious displays, impromptu artistry, beaded costume jewelry, dancing, magic and of course in the back there was prostitution, drugs and alcohol.”

Ralph essentially mentored Christy. His carnival traveled by truck. Sometimes his smaller carnival (only 12 midway rides) would merge with other carnivals for larger towns and crowds.

Christy met legendary fan dancer Sally Rand who was touring with the prestigious Royal American Shows. The Royal American claimed to be the world’s largest touring midway. Nearly a hundred train cars pulled performers, rides, and the president of RAS and his family. Part of the benefit of train travel ― besides rest for the performers and crew ― was that rides and amusement arrived wholly put together. Their record of unloading from the trains to set up an operation was a fast and furious five hours. Besides Sally Rand, Lois De Fee and Gypsy, Elvis’ manager Colonel Tom Parker began his show business career working for Royal American.

Christy’s job was to patrol the parameter of Rand’s tent to prevent anyone from trying to bypass the front and take a free peek. Christy didn’t consider it work. She thought of it more like fun.

It was at the carnival where Christy got her first look at a girlie show. Run by a dark-haired gal with big boobs who spoke in a little girly voice, she went by the name of Delilah Dante. Delilah ran her own girlie show.

It was a grueling life for the burly girls. When I interviewed Dixie Evans (a.k.a the “Marilyn Monroe of Burlesque”) she talked about loving the carnival and circus route working 30 shows a day and being so tired at the end that all she wanted as she passed out on the ride home was to eat Chinese and count her big, fat bankroll.

Delilah’s show was in a large tent with “plank seating” to accommodate 80 likely horny men. Sometimes more could be squeezed in. It was a 10-minute show that ran 25 times a night. To make the men buy tickets and convince them of the dozens of beauties they would see inside the tent, Delilah would have Christy and anyone else on the midway dress up in elaborate headdresses and stand in half shadows on the stage, where the men could peek through the front flaps and see shadowy figures moving about. After the men paid their quarter, the only eyeful they got was Delilah. But it was with Delilah’s feather boas and running across the sage that Christy felt sexy. She decided she would become a dancer.

Among the various types of misfits running around the midway, Christy noted that the diversity of character created strong bonds. Even with occasionally deep psychological ― sometimes physical ― challenges, they found refuge. Birds of a feather. And, Christy noted after hours, “bed hopping was rampant.” No matter whether it was men with men, women with women or some mix of group sex, it was family. A very close family.

Not only was sex among the carneys a regular occurrence, but they were also targets for the local “lizards.” Lizards could be any man, woman, or teenager who hung around the lot looking for an easy target. A quick, no-hassle one night stand would ensue. There would be no drama as there was always another town calling the carnival away. No bonds, no attachments.

At the end of the season, Christy would take her money and fill coffee cans with the cash, hiding it in her room. When her mother discovered one of the cans, she worried over what type of work Christy was doing to rake in such dough. Over the years, Christy worked the carnival her siblings (she had two half-sisters) and mother also worked, though none of them loved it like she did. Christy was happy as a clam and wanted to soak up everything she could learn about working at the carnival.

Back home, she waded through school and roamed the seedier streets of Seattle, where at 16, she learned to master a sexy street swagger from a prostitute named Tanya. She became friends with Tanya. Tanya thought Christy had what it took to be a hooker and suggested the market would be profitable for a fat girl. Tanya was right. She was a hit and had no competition. She was “so big I was like a billboard on heels.” Her size didn’t make her lack confidence. She knew she was alluring.

Venturing to Hollywood, she had a memorable encounter with Hollywood’s Stanley Kowalski. A man asking for her particular services showed up wearing a floppy hat (obviously to disguise himself) clutching a brown paper bag in his hands. “Nice to meet ya,” he said. Reaching into his bag he pulled out women’s lingerie and a stack of cash. Fannie disappeared to make espresso and when she returned, the world’s greatest actor was nude. As he pulled on a pair of stockings, she told him, “honey you are so sexy.” Turning on a Marvin Gaye tune, she gave him a wig and makeup which she helped apply to his gorgeous face. Thinking he wanted to see himself she held out a hand mirror, but he brushed it aside. Silence followed as he sashayed around her room in heels and lingerie drinking espresso in a “feminine” sort of way. They had no conversation and when he was satisfied with whatever he was exploring he pulled his clothes over the bra and panties kissed Fannie’s hand and left. His latest film “Last Tango in Paris” had been playing and Fannie “figured he was just going through a phase.”

By the time she was 18, she stood 6’2” and weighed 240 pounds. She decided to change her name to Fannie Annie. She got a job working a girlie show. She loved it, especially the pretty clothes. To her, it was ironic that offstage she deflected looks of “disgust,” but onstage the little fat girl ― all grown up ― was adored and accepted. With the help of the Mob and a breast enhancement she became known as “the world’s fattest stripper.”

As Fannie she commanded the stage, she’d hurl insults at customers in the clubs who were “overjoyed” with her “fatness.” She pushed men’s faces into her heaving bosoms. “My size overwhelmed.” It was as if none of them had seen a fat boob before, so she pulled them out of her costume. “The crowd went nuts as they threw money” on the stage. As a finale, Christy would push the man on the floor, lift her skirt, and lower herself onto his face.

The work was nonstop and so was her ballooning size. Soon, she was 400 pounds with an 88-inch waist line. She broke chairs and “fell on [her] ass more times” than she cared to recall. She continued to tour clubs and returned to her first love, carnivals. “It was where I really wanted to be.” One of her signature tricks was to invite a bachelor to the stage where not only did she smother his head between her breasts and “tit slap him,” but also pull his pants and underwear down for a parade around the stage.

By the 1980s, a 600-pound Fannie would own her own kiddy carnival with ponies and a petting zoo. She was still getting little respect in the real world because of her size. I asked her if she ever wanted to change her weight and she told me no. “I just accepted it and lived my life and took advantage of being super sized and made a living out of it.”

And though she enjoyed a long career in the clubs, it was the carnivals she loved for the travel and the money and the camaraderie. (She didn’t as much care for the hot tents and trailers or the lack of restrooms). Little fat Christy had grown into a star. “I really loved all the life lessons. All the carnival and circus people really made me feel like family! How could you not love it!” And though unideal and filled with challenges and grifters with few heart-warming stories, it was a place of belonging for many runaways like Christy and Annie were. 

In 1996, Fannie Annie retire from the roaming, performing life. She spends her days making a cruelty-free boa Star Boa for today’s current crop of burlesque dancers.

Leslie Zemeckis is an award-winning documentarian whose film “Behind the Burly Q” chronicles the history of burlesque. Her film “Bound by Flesh” is a Netflix hit about Daisy and Violet Hilton of “Sideshow” fame. Zemeckis authored “Behind the Burly Q, the book based on her film and “Goddess of Love Incarnate” about burlesque stripper Lili St. Cyr. Zemecki. Her current documentary Mabel, Mabel, Tiger Trainer, on the world’s first female trainer Mabel Stark premiered at the Santa Barbara International Film Festival going on to win numerous awards.

She has created the only comprehensive burlesque site bringing together the burlesque community under one roof (www.theburlyq.com) and has create the first line of burlesque, showgirl, pinup (and flamingo) emojis (Burlyqji.)

Zemeckis is currently writing her third book, set to co-star in a film opposite Steve Carell, and developing several other films. She continues to chronicle the vast untouched history of burlesque and has one of the largest personal collections of burlesque memorabilia, with items from Gypsy Rose Lee, Blaze Starr, Lili St. Cyr, Ann Corio and many many more. @Lesliezemeckis, http://ift.tt/1SoCEhC Follow Leslie Zemeckis on IG and Twitter.

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[imreviewblog]

Fat Bottom Girl

“Left alone with big fat fanny She was such a naughty nanny Heap big woman you made a bad boy out of me” – Brian May

The sticky, sweet smell of cotton candy combined with the stench coming from the animals, and mixed with the iron taste of diesel fuel. It was an odor particular to the carnival that she would never forget.

The word carnival has two meanings. First, according to Webster:

A period of public revelry each year that takes place before Lent; and second, A traveling amusement show.

Circus folks, whom I have interviewed extensively, are quick to point out the differences between them and carnival folk or more derogatory “carneys.” The circus, burlesque, and other forms of early American pop culture have been the target of my work over the past decade. After meeting someone who essentially grew up on the carnival grounds I thought I should take a look at the life of the showgirls in the carnival. Many of my burlesque ladies had certainly worked the carnival circuit including stars Sally Rand and Gypsy Rose Lee, making gobs of money with their Royal American Girlie Shows. According to Sally Rand’s son Sean, it was Gypsy who encouraged his mother to join the grueling schedule of upwards of 30 shows a day for thousands across America.

But before we get into that let’s examine carnival.

The carnivals were ― and are ― loaded with games of chance, heavily favored on the side of the concessionaires who run, and lure and can cheat the carnival rubes out of hard earned quarters (at least back when a quarter meant something). There was of course the side show with real and bogus “Freaks” and death-defying rides. With its geneses in the Chicago Columbian Exposition of 1893 the carnival would become known as a raucous, popcorn smelling afternoon where one tried to hang on to their wallets walking the midway. Staring in the mid-1920s most carnivals set up in a field or wherever they could for several days and took in thousands in attendance. Folks were bug-eyed over scandalously skimpy-dressed beauties and freaks of nature. Staged shows under the tens included many of the biggest vaudeville acts of the early 20th century. The freak show, which included animals as well, employed many with abnormal physicality, such as Daisy and Violet Hilton, the subject of my documentary “Bound By Flesh.” The Siamese bound sisters were stars on both the vaudeville stage and carnival and circus circuits.

Like in the circus, many who felt they didn’t belong in the “real world” ran away and joined a carnival, sometimes for the first time in their lives finding a home and communion with like people. Oddities, outcasts, disenfranchised. There was every sort from the obvious runaways, drug addicts, perverts, women who had escaped abusive relationships. There were families, perverts. “A lot of temporary and seedy characters.” Everyone was escaping life back home, whether it was too ordinary for them or too troubled. All found a place where they belonged even if just for a season under the canvas amongst others who asked no questions. They were birds of a feather.

When she was about 12 years-old, brown-haired Christy escaped a “mean, drunk little guy” whom her mother had married. “He was beating on my mother,” she recalled, “so I kicked the shit out of him.” Standing 5’8” and weighing between 160 and 170 lbs, her stepfather who stood 5’2” was no match.

Life had been anything but idyllic for Christy in a tiny navy town outside of Seattle, Washington, in the 1950s.

With a beautiful mother who worked various small jobs while raising four kids and an alcoholic stepfather she hated, Christy and her brother Chuckie tried staying out of the way of this pint-sized wife and child beater. Tragedy struck during the summer of Christy’s 8th year of hell on earth. Nine-year-old Chuckie and his best friend Jeff had been goofing around and got hold of a gun which went off in Chuckie’s hand, killing Jeff. It was particularly memorable for Christy, as Jeff had been her first sexual encounter. Yes, at age 8.

Ralph, a family friend, owned a carnival. With the promise that she could work there someday, Christy took to hanging around Ralph and his carney friends. Hanging around the sawdust lots and learning to “buy” a 25-cent soda from a machine for three pennies after shaving the edges to make them the size of dimes she found “sanctuary” from her home life.

Meanwhile, the abuse from her stepfather continued. When he wasn’t drunk, he was regularly beating on his wife and terrorizing the kids.

Running into a travel carnival that pulled into town, Christy begged her mother to let her join. She worked there the entire week the carnival was in town. Soon things went bad at home. “My mom and I decided I shouldn’t be around during the summer.” She turned to Ralph who let her join his operation at age 11 or 12.

She joined the tradition of the roaming life, traveling from town to town, pulling into large lots and anywhere the midway rides could be set. This was in the 1960s when someone her size was not only an oddity but worthy of making a living in the sideshow. By this time in history, the “born freaks” were fewer and far between in the Freak Shows. Still, for a quarter or two one could see two-headed cows, or two-headed chickens. One fake act was the “man eating chicken” who sat and ate a piece of chicken out of the KFC bucket on his lap. Jokes too.

Christy’s size had never bothered her. Everyone in her family was pretty heavy, but Christy was the most eye-catching. She knew people made fun of her. But on the carnival her size brought her a different kind of attention. It was positive and accepting. She would make a successful career both on the midway and on the burlesque stage because of her generous frame and her zest for entertaining.

Christy kept up with her schooling, but started a month late and left a month early until she graduated. By then so in love with her “other life,” she skipped the graduation parties and flew straight to Portland, Oregon, to work a festival and “traveled the rest of [her] life.”

She worked various jobs on the midway; selling tickets, serving food, cooking and counting quarters and rolling them in sleeves. “I loved making money!”

During breaks she rode all the rides, especially thrilling at the Sky Wheel where she could soar above her troubles below. The fun houses with their distorted mirrors was a particular favorite. She learned how the games were rigged. “I was around,” she said, “during the days of big money... and games you could never win.” Though some shows were “Sunday school shows” (meaning honest run) other shows took the rubes for everything which was done by paying off cops and never returning to the town once they pulled up stakes.“Everyone made money.”

Like in the circus, her coworkers were transients. Christy recalled one group of Gypsies from Turkey pickpocketing “marks” on the midway by reading their mannerisms, their clothing, their walk, and even their particular body odors. When not on the midway the Gypsies could be found in the town’s department stores shoplifting (with the help of Christy being the distraction. She would pretend to faint, pulling down a large display case with expensive goods on the way to hitting the ground). So crafty were the Gypsies, sewing inner pockets and such Christy was witness to one girl who carried a television set between her thighs as she coolly walked out the store. It would take a few more heists before Christy’s conscious got the better of her and she quit the extra gig (and the $100 that came with it).

However, her training among the Gypsies educated her in how to read the marks on the midway and she was hired to be what was called an “agent.” An agent leads a customer to a particular game he or she seemed best suited too. They then encourage the mark to spend, spend, spend.

Jamming the midway were kiosks or individual booths. They were plentiful and varied. There were psychic readings of palm and crystal balls, “knife sharpening, religious displays, impromptu artistry, beaded costume jewelry, dancing, magic and of course in the back there was prostitution, drugs and alcohol.”

Ralph essentially mentored Christy. His carnival traveled by truck. Sometimes his smaller carnival (only 12 midway rides) would merge with other carnivals for larger towns and crowds.

Christy met legendary fan dancer Sally Rand who was touring with the prestigious Royal American Shows. The Royal American claimed to be the world’s largest touring midway. Nearly a hundred train cars pulled performers, rides, and the president of RAS and his family. Part of the benefit of train travel ― besides rest for the performers and crew ― was that rides and amusement arrived wholly put together. Their record of unloading from the trains to set up an operation was a fast and furious five hours. Besides Sally Rand, Lois De Fee and Gypsy, Elvis’ manager Colonel Tom Parker began his show business career working for Royal American.

Christy’s job was to patrol the parameter of Rand’s tent to prevent anyone from trying to bypass the front and take a free peek. Christy didn’t consider it work. She thought of it more like fun.

It was at the carnival where Christy got her first look at a girlie show. Run by a dark-haired gal with big boobs who spoke in a little girly voice, she went by the name of Delilah Dante. Delilah ran her own girlie show.

It was a grueling life for the burly girls. When I interviewed Dixie Evans (a.k.a the “Marilyn Monroe of Burlesque”) she talked about loving the carnival and circus route working 30 shows a day and being so tired at the end that all she wanted as she passed out on the ride home was to eat Chinese and count her big, fat bankroll.

Delilah’s show was in a large tent with “plank seating” to accommodate 80 likely horny men. Sometimes more could be squeezed in. It was a 10-minute show that ran 25 times a night. To make the men buy tickets and convince them of the dozens of beauties they would see inside the tent, Delilah would have Christy and anyone else on the midway dress up in elaborate headdresses and stand in half shadows on the stage, where the men could peek through the front flaps and see shadowy figures moving about. After the men paid their quarter, the only eyeful they got was Delilah. But it was with Delilah’s feather boas and running across the sage that Christy felt sexy. She decided she would become a dancer.

Among the various types of misfits running around the midway, Christy noted that the diversity of character created strong bonds. Even with occasionally deep psychological ― sometimes physical ― challenges, they found refuge. Birds of a feather. And, Christy noted after hours, “bed hopping was rampant.” No matter whether it was men with men, women with women or some mix of group sex, it was family. A very close family.

Not only was sex among the carneys a regular occurrence, but they were also targets for the local “lizards.” Lizards could be any man, woman, or teenager who hung around the lot looking for an easy target. A quick, no-hassle one night stand would ensue. There would be no drama as there was always another town calling the carnival away. No bonds, no attachments.

At the end of the season, Christy would take her money and fill coffee cans with the cash, hiding it in her room. When her mother discovered one of the cans, she worried over what type of work Christy was doing to rake in such dough. Over the years, Christy worked the carnival her siblings (she had two half-sisters) and mother also worked, though none of them loved it like she did. Christy was happy as a clam and wanted to soak up everything she could learn about working at the carnival.

Back home, she waded through school and roamed the seedier streets of Seattle, where at 16, she learned to master a sexy street swagger from a prostitute named Tanya. She became friends with Tanya. Tanya thought Christy had what it took to be a hooker and suggested the market would be profitable for a fat girl. Tanya was right. She was a hit and had no competition. She was “so big I was like a billboard on heels.” Her size didn’t make her lack confidence. She knew she was alluring.

Venturing to Hollywood, she had a memorable encounter with Hollywood’s Stanley Kowalski. A man asking for her particular services showed up wearing a floppy hat (obviously to disguise himself) clutching a brown paper bag in his hands. “Nice to meet ya,” he said. Reaching into his bag he pulled out women’s lingerie and a stack of cash. Fannie disappeared to make espresso and when she returned, the world’s greatest actor was nude. As he pulled on a pair of stockings, she told him, “honey you are so sexy.” Turning on a Marvin Gaye tune, she gave him a wig and makeup which she helped apply to his gorgeous face. Thinking he wanted to see himself she held out a hand mirror, but he brushed it aside. Silence followed as he sashayed around her room in heels and lingerie drinking espresso in a “feminine” sort of way. They had no conversation and when he was satisfied with whatever he was exploring he pulled his clothes over the bra and panties kissed Fannie’s hand and left. His latest film “Last Tango in Paris” had been playing and Fannie “figured he was just going through a phase.”

By the time she was 18, she stood 6’2” and weighed 240 pounds. She decided to change her name to Fannie Annie. She got a job working a girlie show. She loved it, especially the pretty clothes. To her, it was ironic that offstage she deflected looks of “disgust,” but onstage the little fat girl ― all grown up ― was adored and accepted. With the help of the Mob and a breast enhancement she became known as “the world’s fattest stripper.”

As Fannie she commanded the stage, she’d hurl insults at customers in the clubs who were “overjoyed” with her “fatness.” She pushed men’s faces into her heaving bosoms. “My size overwhelmed.” It was as if none of them had seen a fat boob before, so she pulled them out of her costume. “The crowd went nuts as they threw money” on the stage. As a finale, Christy would push the man on the floor, lift her skirt, and lower herself onto his face.

The work was nonstop and so was her ballooning size. Soon, she was 400 pounds with an 88-inch waist line. She broke chairs and “fell on [her] ass more times” than she cared to recall. She continued to tour clubs and returned to her first love, carnivals. “It was where I really wanted to be.” One of her signature tricks was to invite a bachelor to the stage where not only did she smother his head between her breasts and “tit slap him,” but also pull his pants and underwear down for a parade around the stage.

By the 1980s, a 600-pound Fannie would own her own kiddy carnival with ponies and a petting zoo. She was still getting little respect in the real world because of her size. I asked her if she ever wanted to change her weight and she told me no. “I just accepted it and lived my life and took advantage of being super sized and made a living out of it.”

And though she enjoyed a long career in the clubs, it was the carnivals she loved for the travel and the money and the camaraderie. (She didn’t as much care for the hot tents and trailers or the lack of restrooms). Little fat Christy had grown into a star. “I really loved all the life lessons. All the carnival and circus people really made me feel like family! How could you not love it!” And though unideal and filled with challenges and grifters with few heart-warming stories, it was a place of belonging for many runaways like Christy and Annie were. 

In 1996, Fannie Annie retire from the roaming, performing life. She spends her days making a cruelty-free boa Star Boa for today’s current crop of burlesque dancers.

Leslie Zemeckis is an award-winning documentarian whose film “Behind the Burly Q” chronicles the history of burlesque. Her film “Bound by Flesh” is a Netflix hit about Daisy and Violet Hilton of “Sideshow” fame. Zemeckis authored “Behind the Burly Q, the book based on her film and “Goddess of Love Incarnate” about burlesque stripper Lili St. Cyr. Zemecki. Her current documentary Mabel, Mabel, Tiger Trainer, on the world’s first female trainer Mabel Stark premiered at the Santa Barbara International Film Festival going on to win numerous awards.

She has created the only comprehensive burlesque site bringing together the burlesque community under one roof (www.theburlyq.com) and has create the first line of burlesque, showgirl, pinup (and flamingo) emojis (Burlyqji.)

Zemeckis is currently writing her third book, set to co-star in a film opposite Steve Carell, and developing several other films. She continues to chronicle the vast untouched history of burlesque and has one of the largest personal collections of burlesque memorabilia, with items from Gypsy Rose Lee, Blaze Starr, Lili St. Cyr, Ann Corio and many many more. @Lesliezemeckis, http://bit.ly/2rTi0RT Follow Leslie Zemeckis on IG and Twitter.

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