#wordle t-shirt

[hwangism143]

just for a moment

synopsis: you were just waiting for your bus when you were in the presence of chan, just for a moment

pairing: idol!chan x non-idol!gn reader

warnings: none!

word count: 400+ words

"just for a moment, a moment in love"

You're sitting at the bus stop, waiting for your bus that still has about an half an hour to come. The sun's beating down on you (to be fair, it always does) and the heat is mildly suffocating. You scroll aimlessly on your phone when a man clears his throat, causing you to look up.

"Ahem, is this seat free?" the man asks.

"Yep," you say, nodding in the affirmative. He shoots you a small sign and sits down.

You take a moment to observe him. He's cute, you'll give him that. He's wearing a baseball cap with his curls sticking out. Along with that, his outfit consists of shorts, a black undershirt and an open plaid t-shirt. As he sits in silence, you try and solve the day's Wordle. Your own the very last line and are about to lose your shit when you feel a tap on you shoulder.

"Uh, not to be rude but, the word's 'adore'," said the guy beside you.

"Oh," you look in surprise, "Thank you."

You quickly punch it in and give him a grin when you pass the level. "Now that we're friends in the holy name of Wordle, I'm Y/N."

"Hey," he says, "I'm Chris. Nice to meet ya."

"I've never seen you here before. Are you new?"

"Nah mate," says Chris, "Came back for vacation, but I actually grew up here."

"Damn, where do you work?" you ask, suddenly curious.

"I'm based in South Korea. I make music."

"That is so cool," you say excitedly, "I'm just a boring old tech engineer."

"I mean, that's not that bad," says Chris with a laugh. His dimples are on full display and you feel your cheeks heating up. Why was he so hot? It was not fair.

"Gimme your Spotify, I'll listen to your music sometime," you offer.

"Oh uh, I actually produce for a group of people," Chris hesitates.

"Ohh, are they famous?" you ask, now even more curious.

"I would hope so," Chris smiles.

You both continue talking and you find out that you're a couple years apart in age and both older siblings. His easy smile and infectious laugh make the time fly by as if it's nothing.

"That's my ride," says Chris, waving goodbye. You wave back with a small smile of your own. Your attention goes back to your phone when another bus pulls up. Looking up, you see a Tommy Hilfiger advertisement on it.

Hold on, you think. Is that...

Holy shit. It was a picture of eight guys, one of them being Chris.

a/n: ahh finally my first fic! i've just kept it short and fluffy (and i hc this happening while chan was on vacation lol). i would really appreciate the comments and reviews!

[herejusttosufferalong]

I'm up in my thoughts today.

I see you, Nic. Or maybe I'm blind.

Brunch. Sweet treat for the savoury tooth? Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Fake account. It's important you know it's not me. But they exist.

Who am I? Playing games, successfully. Wordle Queen. I'm top bitch.

Playing games... not well. Guinness in corner. Who's that? Not me.

My friends protect me from paps, while- [REDACTED]

I'm wearing his t-shirt. Not really, but I even rolled up the sleeve. Matchy matchy. You can see my thighs, right?

At the very least. The universe is speaking. Very loudly. And her subconscious is speaking. Very loudly. At the very least.

she has been doin the most recently

but does it all really mean anything?

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

I AM HERE AGAIN LMAODFVBDF for headcanons can I ask palomino!jack trying to cheer up reader due to a twinge of insecurity caused by her ex?? Said insecurity can be anything really and feel free to ignore it if you don't want to really 💜💜💜💜

thank you so much and once again congrats, love you to the moon and back!!

Palomino drabble: Real

Sil! Thank you so much for this prompt. I'm cracking my knuckles and getting back into my Palomino feels. I tweaked it a little into a micro drabble, I hope you like it ❤️

390 words | warnings: long-distance relationship, insecurities, light angst, fluff, boyfriend Jack comes with his own warning | chronologically set after Palomino main series

You didn't expect to see him at your friend's wedding. The last time you did was in a stale lawyer's office almost a year ago, when you finally dotted the i's and crossed the t's to sell the house you bought together. And that was that, you went your separate ways.

His new girlfriend is taller than you, leggier than you, more glamorous than you. You exchange awkward introductions, but before you can make a polite escape, your ex asks, 'You seeing anyone?'

'I am,' you nod.

He glances about. 'He's not here?'

'No, he lives out of state,' you reply shortly.

It's stupid and petty, but you wish Jack was here so badly, if only to wipe off that look of dubious condescension on your ex's face. As if you're not good enough to have found someone else, after him.

Because sometimes you think that too.

When you snuggle into your achingly empty bed later that night, you call him, even though it's way too late in Wyoming. But he picks up anyway - he always does - his voice scratchy with slumber. 'Hey darlin'. Are you ok?'

You're quiet for a moment, then you ask in a small voice, 'Are we real, Jack?'

He's quiet too for a beat. 'Yes, we are.'

'It's hard being so far away from you.'

'I know, darlin'. It's hard for me too.'

'But we're real?'

He reassures you, he will always reassure you, no matter how many times you need to hear it. 'We're real, darlin'.'

You're playing Wordle on your phone while you wait by the toaster the next morning, a Sunday, when there's a knock on your door.

Since you're only in a sleep shirt - one of Jack's flannels - you carefully crack the door open just a couple of inches to see who it is.

Tired brown eyes under the brim of a cowboy hat smile at you.

Tears sting the seam of your lashes as you bury your face into his neck - you can smell sweet hay and the Wyoming night air on his warm skin. You feel him smile into your temple as he holds you close. 'Drove all night to get to you, darlin'.'

'You're here,' you whisper. 'You're real.'

'I'm real,' he answers, pulling back so that he can lean his forehead to yours.

'We're real.'

Fuck Yeah 1.2k Sleepover

[farfromstrange]

Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter 14: We'll Be A Fine Line

Masterlist ° Chapter List

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Before Michael’s first day at work, he overhears a conversation between you and your sister, and the day just keeps getting weirder from there. But he still has you. Right?

Warnings: Slight angst, fluff, foreshadowing, mentions of child abuse, spiders

Word Count: 7.4k (oops)

A/n: Giving you this because I won’t be able to post before Wednesday, probably, because of my last final. So yeah, here you go. Have at it. This is not full-on angst, I'm just warming you up. Chapter 15 hurts though. Everyone, say fuck you to the spider in my room that made me sleep in the bathtub last night :) I don't know how I'm supposed to move out and get rid of them MYSELF?! (also, how can a person be so cute WHILE FROWNING??)

The first day in a new workplace is always the most challenging because you don’t know what to expect. 

Michael has never paid much mind to coffee before he met you, but thanks to you, his knowledge has expanded. Does he know how to make it? No. He gets confused by your modern machine at home, and he fears he might feel the same way at the café, but it’s the place he met you, so it’s connected to happy memories.

He is a fast learner, or so he has been told. And when you told him that you used to live off of instant coffee and couldn’t afford Starbucks or the like, and so you also paid no mind to good coffee before, he felt a little less alone. 

You learned, so he will too. 

“Caramel or hazelnut?” you ask, sitting at the dining table with your cup of coffee in hand and your phone before you on the table. 

Until a few seconds ago, you were engaged in the New York Times’ new Wordle game that dropped this morning, and now you’re blurting out random questions and Michael is so confused, he almost drops his mug. 

“Wha’?” he asks back. 

He looks cute with his hair disheveled, wearing his boxers and a shirt, and his face still scrunched up from sleep. 

You look at him with a smile. “Hazelnut or caramel?” you repeat your question. 

“Uh… hazelnut?” 

“Wrong, caramel.”

His frown deepens. “What?”

“Best topping flavor,” you say. “It’s caramel, not hazelnut.”

Shaking his head, he turns back to his coffee and pours some extra hazelnut syrup into his brew, right in front of your face.

You point behind him. “Toss me the caramel syrup, will ya?” 

“If I toss it, yer not gonna catch it,” he says. 

“And what makes you think that?”

“You put milk in the cupboard when yer sleep deprived.”

You pause for a second before nodding, a soft blush coating your cheeks. “That’s fair,” you reply. With a heavy sigh, you return to your phone. 

Michael sits down next to you, peeking at the screen. “Ya still lookin’ fer a five-letter word?” he asks. 

“Yeah. It’s really pissing me off. Like, what the fuck am I supposed to do with an E and an S?”

“Try ‘Feast.”

You type the word into the Wordle boxes. The letter T lights up orange and your eyes light up. He loves when that happens. You look like a child on Christmas Day, and something tells him you didn’t have many moments in the past where you got to be excited like this.

His thoughts flicker back to the drawer you religiously keep locked, and his curiosity flares up again. It’s dangerous; when he gets curious, he often gets curious enough to snoop around. But he knows if he deliberately breaks into the drawer, he will lose you forever, and he doesn’t want that to happen. 

“Meets,” he blurts out. 

You raise your eyebrows. “Meets?” you ask. 

“Yes.”

You type the word in, and lo and behold, it turns out to be the word they were looking for, and the screen explodes with confetti. You squeal in excitement and jump off your chair before sitting back down, pulling your leg up to your chest. 

“Amen,” you say. 

He smirks. “You’re welcome.”

“Right,” you remember and add, “Thank you, baby.”

Humming, he says, “That’s better.”

You cradle his cheek with a playful glint in his eyes and kiss him, then indulge back in your coffee. You savor the taste, your eyes closing, and you slowly begin to wake fully. You have to get ready soon, but for soon you want to spend your peaceful morning with the man you love.

He hasn’t stayed with you that much the past couple of days, which made you a little sad, but he is here now. You spent the night together. You didn’t have sex, much of the opposite. When Michael heard that you like to watch football, he got excited and convinced you to watch the Manchester game. Needless to say, it ended in a discussion about your favored team against his, and you went to bed with popcorn still stuck in your hair. You can swear there is still a piece stuck somewhere from your food fight, even after a shower. 

Though when your phone rings and Maya’s name shows up on your screen, your demeanor changes completely. Your body tenses up and the adrenaline starts coursing through your veins. “Excuse me,” you mutter, completely blocking out that it’s Michael you’re with, “I have to take this.”

He frowns again. Something isn’t right. You tense up instantly, and he catches a glimpse of a female name on your screen. Your smile fades. Instead, the corners of your mouth turn down. 

You get up and pass by him without another word, disappearing into the bedroom. He knows he shouldn’t do it, but your behavior is suspicious and he feels the desperate urge to protect you from whatever got you switching attitude this quickly. So against his better judgment, he gets up and follows you, stopping just before the bedroom door. 

And he is glad he decided to do so because as he stands there, he finally catches another glimpse of who you truly are beneath all the layers of endless defenses and brick walls you have built around yourself. They are almost impossible to break through, and hearing you talk in a hushed tone to whoever is on the phone opens up another door to your heart he hasn’t seen before, and apparently doesn’t get to see when you’re in his immediate presence. 

You answered the phone with a sudden and firm, “Are you okay?”

“What?” Maya says. She sounds almost carefree, and you relax a little when she continues, “I just called to tell you that I found something very exciting for you during my field trip.”

“Are you fucking–” You sigh. Idiot. “I thought something happened to you,” you say.

There is a short pause. “I’m okay,” she says. 

“Thank God! Next time maybe give me a heads up. Maybe a quick ‘Hey, I’m calling because I’m happy not because I’m half-dead in a ditch’ or something. I don’t know.”

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t– I don’t want you to even start that. I fell into a habit of constantly apologizing for things I didn’t do because of him and I don’t want you to feel like you have to do the same.”

“Okay… I’m sorry.”

“Maya,” you take a warning tone. 

“Okay, okay, chill out! I won’t apologize,” she retorts. “Jesus, you old people are all so condescending.”

You gasp. “Old?!”

“You know what I mean. Anyway, can I tell you now what I got you?”

You can’t deny that teenagers are exhausting. As much as you love your sister, they tend to be a lot more honest than the general population.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you cross your legs to get a bit more comfortable. “Sure,” you say, your lip curling into a smile instead of a frown, and you listen intently as Maya tells you about a new historical romance book and that she got it for you. 

“Anyway, I have to find a way to mail it to you,” she says. “If I can sneak past Dad and Mom somehow, I can sneak into the post office, and then off it goes.”

You’re not used to hearing her so cheery, and it melts your heart. That’s the kind of girl she’s supposed to be. Excited about buying a book and smiling about it, and skipping happily on the phone with you on her way home. She’s not supposed to live in constant fear of her parents, and she’s not supposed to feel responsible for taking care of her own mother. You went through the same thing, except that with her, your father isn’t as… violent. But control and emotional abuse are also a form of violence that will leave a child scarred forever. He has a weird way of showing his love.

And with you, he just didn’t like you that much. It took you a while to realize that what he was doing was abuse, but when you realized you were the only child of his getting caught in the crossfire because you were the oldest and the most disappointing, it hurt even more.

You wouldn’t wish it upon anyone, but you were so alone taking care of everyone and still not being enough. It hurts, still, but you don’t let it get to you. You try to, at least.

The reason Maya keeps the connection to you hidden is not to protect herself but you and your mom, and that is sad in itself because she’s only a teenager. She’s your little sister, your little girl, and it sucks absolute balls that every attempt to get her to live with you somehow failed or didn’t even end up in motion because of the fear of consequences and causing more harm than good. It sucks and you hate it and it makes you sad. 

“Just be careful, okay?” you say. You love the thought of receiving a gift, but you can’t have her risking her safety because of it. 

She sighs wearily. “I know.” And gone is her happiness, instead replaced by dread.

You can hear her shoulders slump as she continues walking, and it breaks your heart as fast as it had melted. Now it is hard as a rock again, and it breaks right through. 

“How’s everything else at home?”

“It’s… okay. Dad’s been rather normal, and he doesn’t suspect anything. I apologized, we made up, and he eased the control a little. And Mom… well, she’s being Mom. She didn’t have a seizure again, so her meds are working, but she had some fresh bruises when I came home from the field trip, and I–” Maya takes a deep, shaky breath. “I hate it,” she says. 

Your words exactly, and her helplessness makes you want to book a ticket for a flight home and just snatch her when nobody’s looking. At this point, you don’t even care about personal or legal consequences, you just want her to have a chance at a normal life. Like Michael. 

Like Eleanor should have had. 

“I’ve been writing mostly A’s,” she tries to lighten the mood, “So that is something good, I think.”

You can’t describe how proud of her you are for keeping her head up throughout all of this. You should have never left, but it got too much, and you were tired of being the one who had to take his rage all the time, and you were tired of being forced to stay strong when everyone else got a chance to grieve. Two years you took the abuse, and you took it almost nineteen years before that. You deserved a chance, and you took it when it presented itself. 

But you shouldn’t have left her alone. You should have found a way to fight and win, and you should have taken her with you. 

A tear escapes your tired eye. “That’s good,” you say, trying not to sound as broken as you are, “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” she answers, hearing it genuinely for the first time. “Dad’s been calm because of that.”

“That’s possible, yeah. He was like that with me when I brought home an A, but that wasn’t often.”

“I know… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m just scared that he’ll find out about us and then… I don’t want him to hurt you again. You remember what he said—”

“Hey,” you interrupt her. “Stop. I know what he said, but it won’t happen because he won’t find out,” you say. “If we’re both careful enough, that is. I want nothing more than to protect you. You know that.”

“But this isn’t about me,” she argues.

“Yes, it is. It’s always about you.”

“He will take his rage out on you.”

“If he does, I will find a way to deal with it. As long as no one alerts him, I’ll be fine. My only concern here is and will always be you, Maya.”

“But what if someone does alert him?”

“I can’t think of anyone who would.” You don’t have enemies. You’re always kind to others and aim to please them. No one has ever been dissatisfied enough to threaten you or wish death upon you, so you’re confident no one in your life would ring the bells in England.

“I really can’t think of anyone, and that’s a good thing,” you insist. “So we just take care and I’ll be fine, and you are going to be fine, too. One day soon, I will get you here and we’ll be alright.”

You hope, at least. 

She pauses again, taking another deep breath. “But let’s imagine he does,” she prompts. 

“I’ll cross that bridge if it ever comes to it,” you say. “If he tries to kill me… well, let him. I will find a way to fight back. I survived eighteen years of his torture, and then another two years, and I will survive now, too. But he won’t come here. If he wanted to hurt me, he would have already. My whereabouts are no secret.”

“Your address is.”

“He probably found that out already. So you see, I’m fine and I will be fine. So stop worrying. Please.”

“Okay,” Maya caves eventually. “I believe you. As long as you promise me not to dig into anything that could alert him. And I’ll try to be careful around him.”

“Trust me,” but this time, you are lying to both her and yourself, “I won’t dig into anything.”

“You have the files.”

Damn her for being so smart and aware of everything. 

“I haven’t dug into anything for a while and I’m happy just like that,” you tell her. “I won’t risk it. I promise.”

“How happy?”

You smile, looking at the door and thinking about the man in your kitchen–you believe he’s in the kitchen. You’ve kept your voice hushed and he’s not one to pry. 

Except that he is, and he‘s standing frozen in shock in front of your bedroom door. 

You bite your lip. “Oh, I’m just happy. Happy enough to admit it.”

“I’m glad. Out of everyone, you deserve it the most,” she says. 

“Thank you…” You smile sadly. “I wish for you to find the kind of happiness I have here one day. It’s better than living in fear or pain all the time, anyway.”

“Thanks. I hope so, too.”

“I wish you could have grown up with Ellie, it would have been so much better for you,” you say. “But we’ll figure it out.”

The past always gets you so damn sentimental.

“I guess we will,” Maya replies. “Well, I’m almost home, so I gotta hang up now.”

“Right.”

“Talk to you soon?”

“Sure.”

“Okay… love you!”

You wipe another tear from your cheek. “I love you too,” you say. 

The line clicks and she’s gone. Just like that. You put the phone down and stare at the wall. The emotions swirling in your chest drag you down and tear you apart, and it hurts so much more than any knife ever could. 

You try to calm down, trying not to seem like you have been crying because Michael always notices, and your defenses come back up. 

Time to face the day and be there for him, and then you will open that drawer and look at the file again because if you don’t, you might go crazy. The dominos have started falling; you can’t stop them now, anyway.

Once he’s in prison, you can get Maya because he will lose custody and visitation rights, and your mother is an emotional wreck, so you are the one they would grant custody to. Thirty years old, now in a relationship, a job with a stable income, and an apartment. They would give her to you because you’re family and she’s a teenager; she can take care of herself for the most part, and you’d be her confidant and caretaker when she needs it. You want nothing more than that.

Even if it means moving to London and leaving four years of Dublin–and Michael–behind, you would do it.

Surely, he would understand. And you could go for a long-distance relationship, or he could come with you. You would make it work without losing him.

But you would choose Maya over the man you love any day because when you love someone like a child, they will always come first. 

Michael stands in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, and smiles softly when he sees you entering. “Ya alright?” he asks. 

You nod. It’s a lie. You’re far from alright, but you need to focus on what lies before you, which is his first day at work, and maybe you can find it in yourself to forget for a while again as you did at the carnival.

“I’m alright,” you lie. 

“Good.”

“Yeah.”

But now even Michael knows you’re far from alright. Not just today but in general; overhearing your phone call set off the alarms in his head, the most prominent one ringing for your safety. It sounded like you’re in danger, and that from your own father; he gets how it is. He had an asshole of a father and if he ever comes back and touches his daughter or you, he will rage. But it’s your father now, too, and he is scared of what might happen. 

He has to protect you at all costs, no matter what. 

He welcomes you with open arms when you place your head on his chest and hug your arms around him. You’re seeking comfort, and after what he overheard, that is no wonder. He wishes you would tell him and then you can find a solution, and he can find a way to protect you when he knows just what he has to protect you from. But you stay silent, closing your eyes and melting into the hug. This is what you need. 

One hand rubs your back, the other coming to rest on the back of your head. He almost covers you whole and pulls you impossibly closer. You sigh. His touch is made of gold, it seems. It never fails to make you feel like you’re the most important thing in the world to him.

“You sure yer okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Can you just hold me?”

He places his chin atop your head. “Yeah.”

“Thank you.” 

You shudder slightly but then relax under his soothing touch again. His heartbeat resonates in your ear. You match your breathing to him, and you can feel part of the weight falling off your shoulders. 

“Do you think we’ll be okay?” you find yourself asking into the silence.

His thumb glides over your scalp. “Okay with what?” he asks.

“Just in general. Are we gonna be alright?” you ask.

Michael sighs, tightening his grip on you. “It’s a fine line between bein’ alright and not bein’ alright.”

“I know that. Can you just… answer me, please?” You don’t want to cry. “Just for now, tell me what I want to hear, even if it’s isn’t the truth.”

“We’ll be alright,” Michael tells you, not missing a beat with his answer.

He’s worried, but you relax in his arms and his heart beats a little slower when your tears subside before they can fall.

He sounds determined, his voice unwavering, and the softness of his touch tells you that even though the road ahead might be rocky, he will stay by your side until things are alright again.

You relax further. You should tell him, but you can’t. If things resolve themselves, you can figure it out on your own without bothering or endangering him. Once he knows, his family will find out, and the more people know, the more danger Maya finds herself in–and you’re not entirely safe either.

You like to pretend you’re not scared and it doesn’t bother you, but there is something terrifying about thinking about your own parent and feeling the goosebumps creep up your spine as your amygdala goes crazy with worst-case scenarios. It keeps the body awake at night as the mind reels around the conflicted emotions the soul is communicating, and every night, you feel like a piece of you is dying inside.

It has been like this ever since you were a child, and it only keeps getting worse.

While getting ready later that morning, you turn to Michael and ask, “Dinner tonight?”

He snaps out of his thoughts, spitting out his toothpaste and nodding at you. “I’d love to,” he says. 

“Good, we have a date.”

“Date it is, then.”

You kiss him on your way to the bedroom where you left your outfit for the day.

You just want to forget, and a night with him having dinner and trying to be carefree sounds like the most conscious thing to do.

He helps you close the zipper on your dress in silence, adjusting the necklace you chose to wear today, and fixing your hair after it got a little messy. His lips ghost over your shoulder and he follows the galaxy of moles with gentle kisses.

Wrapping his arms around you, Michael inhales the scent of your perfume. “Yer so sweet,” he says.

You close your eyes and lean against him. “And you’re charming,” you say.

“That’s why ya love me.”

“Is it?”

He smacks your ass. “Yeah.”

You giggle, pulling away from him again. “Not today, sir.”

He pouts. You kiss him.

“I love you,” he whispers.

You return the sentiment with a gentle smile, “And I love you.”

Now his first day at work just has to go better than your morning, and then, you assure yourself, everything will be perfectly alright. Or it won’t, but either way, you have to try. For him, for Maya, and for yourself. 

Once you arrive in front of the café, you stop him. “I have to warn you,” you tell him, “My friend, Sarah, isn’t too happy about you working here. She’s the one I keep telling you about.”

He straightens his jacket.

“Not your biggest fan,” you say.

“I figure not many people are gonna be,” he says. “I’m used to it. It’s fine.”

“No, really, she is a little firecracker. When she’s mad about something, she’ll show you, and she won’t be nice about it.”

“Not my first rodeo, love.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with it though.”

He pulls you in, the nerves slowly getting to him, and your words don’t do much to soothe his nerves. They barely even prepare him. “I’ll survive,” he says, but he’s not that sure anymore.

His heartbeat picks up and you can feel his pulse racing against your fingers from where you’re holding onto him.

With a soft sigh, you smooth out his collar, pressing your lips on his as you do so. “I’ll get her to come around, I promise,” you say. “I always do somehow.”

And you wouldn’t let Sarah ruin Michael’s day.

He smiles. “I know you will. Ya always take o’ me.”

You sense the slightest shift in his demeanor, the unshed tears and the nerves. “Nervous?” you ask. 

“A little, yeah.”

“You’re gonna do great. Be happy Ava appointed me to be your mentor for the day. I’ll be gentle.”

“You can be bossy with me,” he jokes, and his attempt to charm you works instantly. 

The day is going to be interesting, indeed. But at least he takes your mind off of things. It’s like he knows and wants to take care of you, and it is working.

“Maybe I will be,” you say in the same sultry tone.

“Oh, don’t make me wanna bend ya over a table. That’s not gonna go well, pet. For neither of us.”

You shrug. “Keeps things interesting.”

Michael sighs, but there is an amused glint in his eyes that tells you he isn’t upset or annoyed with you. “I’m gonna have a hard time with ya today, don’t I?” he says. 

Pinching your fingers, you answer, “Just a little.” 

“Alright. Well, I can live with tha’, too.”

And so you make your way inside, praying to God and every other deity that Sarah won’t cause a scene.

Oliver is there, too, because it is the busiest day of the week, so maybe he will diffuse the situation. Maybe they can even become friends. He needs those. From what you could tell, he doesn’t have any, and that’s sad. 

You walk into the café hand in hand, and that is something you thought would never happen. You’re used to being behind the counter and serving him; now you’re both going to be there. It’s an evolution, you suppose, but it’s a good one. Good for him, good for you, and good for everyone because he is charming and attractive–on second thought, you’re not sure if offering him a job was such a good idea. 

You’re not jealous, you tell yourself, but you are possessive and it shows.

You’ve never had anything that was truly yours before, so meeting Michael and falling for him, even the process alone, makes you want to claim him the same way he has claimed you, and you will continue doing so.

“Would you look at that!” Oliver exclaims behind the counter. “My favorite person. And the newbie.”

“Good morning,” you greet him with your usual cheery attitude. 

You pull Michael to stand beside you, and he awkwardly shifts. He’s tense and slightly trembling, so you squeeze his hand in reassurance, telling him that he’s got this. He can conquer anything he sets his mind to.

“Good morning to you too, sunshine. How’re ya?” Oliver asks.

“I’m good, yeah. This–“ you point to Michael. “This is Michael,” you say. You want to get this over with before he implodes. 

“The boyfriend,” he nods, “and the newbie. Yeah, I figured. You wouldn’t be holding hands with just anybody.”

Michael gives an awkward smile before letting go of your hand and deciding to be bold. He remembers you told him that Oliver is a convict, too, and it makes him feel less alone in this space full of pure souls like yours. 

“Michael,” he introduces himself. 

Oliver takes his hand. “So nice to meet ya!” he says. “I’m Oliver, and you are very attractive.” 

He stops and stares for a moment before the blood rushes to his cheeks. “Oh, I–“ he chuckles. “I’m flattered, but I’m– I’m taken.”

“I know, the beautiful specimen over there wouldn’t shut up about ya.”

You blush and shoot him a glare, but he brushes it off with a giggle. 

Michael raises his eyebrows. “Is that so?” He looks at you. “Ya wouldn’t shut up about me?” 

You should have known the revelation was going to boost his ego. 

“I just mentioned you once or twice,” you defend yourself. “Don’t let it get to your pretty little head.”

“All I’m hearin’ is that yer obsessed with me.”

“You’re obsessed with yourself, that’s how it is.”

He smirks. “Sure thing, love,” he says, and you want to slap him for teasing you so obviously at work. “That’s how it is. I’m so obsessed with myself, my girlfriend talks ‘bout me at work.”

Showing him the finger first, you then pull him with you into the back room. His smirk never fades. 

“Oh, what are we doin’?”

You shove an apron into his hands. “Working,” you answer.

He sighs. “Of course, we are.”

You continue showing him where everything is, handing him an apron to put on. He puts what few belongings he brought with him into your locker, and you lock it. You hand him his keycard for the register, emphasizing though that he’s not there yet and you will show him how to man the register some other time. Today, he has to learn all about coffee, and you are the best teacher for that. 

Michael’s nerves fade into silent excitement. This is so much different than working at the dealership. Amanda only trusted him with washing cars, thanks to Frank, but here, with you, he gets to have responsibility, learn, and do something good with his hands that has more meaning than washing cars as some kind of punishment for not wanting to sell drugs or kill people for his family anymore. 

He feels like he belongs. The scenery might be strange, still, but you make him feel at ease with your calm and kind demeanor that you show every customer who comes in, too, even the rude ones. He has a lot to learn, especially from you, but he is sure he can navigate it somehow. And with you, he isn’t afraid to ask questions. 

You point out all the different machines behind the counter, the drawer with the topics that don’t need to be kept cool, and then those that need to be. You show him the wall with different coffee beans and whipped cream in case the current can run out. He notes what you tell him, your voice a soothing sound in his ear amongst the bustling of the café. Who would have thought that the Butterfly Effect would lead him to this particular position?

When Sarah finally comes out, you tense up. You have been anxious about their first meeting all day, and now that the time has come for them to actually meet, you’re not sure how it will pan out. 

“Hi,” says Michael as he approaches her, and he is a lot more confident now. “You must be Sarah, right?”

She’s carrying a box that seems a little too heavy for her to carry. She eyes him, her smile fading, and her jaw locks. 

“I’m Michael,” he introduces himself when she doesn’t answer. “Heard good things about ya.”

Sarah shoves the box into his open arms. “That goes over there,” is all she says and points over to the other end of the counter. 

Even though he is confused, he remembers what you said about her not being very excited about him being here, and he figures she needs time to warm up to him. You’re friends so you must have told her about him long before you got together, and now she’s weary because you chose to date him despite his past, which he still hasn’t quite understood. You don’t care about what he did or the kind of person he used to be, and might as well still be; you only care about him because you love him, and you can overlook all of his dark sides. He doesn’t deserve you, and Sarah seems to think the exact same thing. 

It hurts him a little. He can deal with judgment, but she is your friend, an important person to you, and he wants nothing more than to get along with your friends and everyone he works with. He wants to make a good impression to keep this job, impress Ava, and show his solicitor at the next meeting that people are willing to take a chance on him. And that he finally has a support system that isn’t limited to his family, which looks bad on all documents given their history. 

But he has you and he has a good job, and maybe he can make friends with the rest of the staff, too. Oliver seems happy that he’s here, ready to teach him some things whenever you’re busy–Michael appreciates that more than he knows.

There is a silent understanding between them. Maybe it’s prison, maybe it’s the fact that they both carry the guilt of having hurt someone–in Michael’s case, it was someone he loved, but it still ended in death–or it is something else entirely. Whatever it is though, he is grateful for Oliver’s willingness to help him wherever he can. 

“Sarah,” you approach her. “What was that?” Your voice is hushed so he won’t hear you giving her a run-down. 

She rolls her eyes. “I told ya–” she begins, but you cut her off. 

“That wasn’t fair, and you know it,” you say. “You should go and apologize to him, right now!”

“Hell no,” she says. “I told ya, I’m not a fan of him and I’m really not in the mood to try.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“I just care about you.”

“Then you’d accept him!” You say it a little too loud, and the customers closest to you shoot you a nasty glance. You apologize with a kind smile before turning back to your friend. “If you cared about me even the tiniest bit,” you say, “You’d try accepting him and not treat him like he’s scum on earth.”

She sighs. Her defensive demeanor slips a little, and she nods. “Fine, whatever,” she retorts. You doubt she means it, but at least she caved. 

As she moves on to clean some tables, you watch Oliver and Michael from a distance. 

Oliver has always been a patient man, but it seems even better with Michael. He explains everything, shows him the ropes, and he makes sure to praise him whenever he gets something right. That’s the kind of reaction you had hoped for from Sarah, but she can’t be persuaded so easily, and right now you don’t really like her, you’re just angry. 

Oliver calls your name. You turn around. 

“Would you be a dear and get some more milk from the basement?” he asks. 

“The basement?” you repeat. 

“Yeah, the basement. You know where the cooler is, don’t ya?”

“Of course, I do. I have been working here for years. But the basement,” you emphasize, “is not a place I wanna go.” 

“Why?”

“Because it’s dark and there are probably infestations of gigantic spiders in every corner of the ceiling.”

“Mate, what–“

“I hate spiders!” 

Michael, who has been washing the dishes at Sarah’s command–she is currently busy restocking the shelves–turns around with an amused grin. 

“And you make fun o’ me ‘cause I’m scared of heights,” he says. 

You roll your eyes. “If I’m not back in five minutes, a spider has probably eaten me,” you say.

“Oh, I’m sure they’d love a taste.”

“Michael, darling, I mean it very sincerely when I tell you to fuck off right now.”

He purses his lips and throws you a kiss through the air. You catch it, pretending to throw it away, and he feigns hurt with his hand on his chest. 

Turning around with a dramatic sigh, you make your dreaded way to the basement, hoping you won’t encounter one of the spiders in the corners of the ceiling that you have been avoiding for quite a while–ever since you started working at the Butterfly Effect, actually. Seeming busy and avoiding bringing milk back up is your secret weapon, but with Michael there today, you don’t have as much work and can’t seem busy because you’re not, so you’re stuck on milk duty

You curse Oliver for making you face your fear. This is the last thing you wanted to do today. 

Michael continues washing the mugs with a soft chuckle. He takes it very seriously, making sure everything is hygienic before putting it on the rack beside the sink. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Sarah reaching for one of the boxes on the highest shelf; she’s not nearly tall enough, even with the ladder, and he knows something bad is about to happen. Shortly after, as predicted, she bumps against one of the glasses and it tips over the edge of the shelf. 

She gasps, trying to catch it, but it starts freefalling. Instinctively, Michael reaches out. He catches the glass before it can shatter on the floor. He’s not sure how on earth he managed to reach for it this fast. 

Sarah stares at him in disbelief. He meets her eyes and smiles. “Caught it,” he says. 

She climbs off the ladder with a huff, tearing the glass from his hand. 

“Do ya want me to clean the top shelf? I may be better able to reach it.” His hazel eyes are soft as he gazes at her, his body language open and sincere. 

Sarah’s fists ball and she tries hard not to look directly at him, but one look into his eyes is enough to decipher the honesty, and it makes her feral that he is so nice to her. 

“Stop that,” she says. 

“Stop what?” Michael asks, his eyebrows furrowing a little. He puts the glass aside where it’s safe and dries his hands with a towel. “Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

“Yer not s’posed to be nice,” she clarifies, glaring daggers into his skill, but there is something resembling kindness in them; she doesn’t know he caught it. “So stop being nice to me,” she keeps her voice low because it often causes people to recoil. Not with Michael though. 

He stands there, watching her. He tries to read her or somehow interpret her body language. He tries to understand what she’s feeling and what he can do to earn some of her trust. She isn’t an open book, but she also doesn’t have a million walls around her like you do. 

“I just wanted to help,” he tells her softly. “Sorry if I overstepped.”

She leans against the counter. “Fuck…”

“Sarah, I–” He takes a step forward, sorting his thoughts and trying to bring up the courage to continue, “I can't change my past, my blood, or my name, but I can assure ya that I love her more than anything,” he says. Your name is a mere whisper on his lips. “I would do anythin’ to protect her, without hesitation.”

“Anything?” Sarah cocks an eyebrow. 

“Anythin’, yeah.”

Sarah's gaze flickers with a mixture of emotions—doubt, worry, and something else he can't quite place. She takes a step closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “She's been hurt in the past, and you... If you hurt her, I swear to God—” She doesn’t have to finish her threat because he knows what she means. 

Michael knows he shouldn't do it. It is wrong and she already doesn't trust him, and it might seem desperate and suspicious, but the secrecy is starting to eat away at him because he doesn't understand the magnitude, and he needs to find a way to understand before it's too late.

“I understand. I do, but…” His eyes meet her. He looks almost guilty. “But I need to know... how badly was she hurt?” he asks. “What happened to her?”

He should have figured that if you didn’t tell him the whole story, Sarah probably doesn’t fall into your category of people worthy of knowing the truth, either. 

Sarah takes a deep breath. Some of the sturdiness from before fades away. “You don't know what she was like when she first moved to Dublin,” she says, playing with the laces on her apron. “She was a wreck, and her relationships were just as messed up. There was this one boyfriend in particular... He seemed to bring out the worst in her. But she wouldn't open up about why she chose him or men like him.”

“Did she ever come home with bruises?”

“Not bruises in particular, but… mentally, she was a wreck, and he just seemed to make it worse.” She sighs. “He was a rugby player, and I truly thought it was the worst she could do.”

Michael scoffs. “But ya realized you were wrong because then she met me?” he finishes for her, the unspoken argument finally being voiced. 

Sarah sneers, but he hit the nail right on the head, and she doesn’t need to agree to let him know. 

He nods slowly, looking into the seating area before turning back to her. You got hurt, and you had bad relationships, but you were broken before that; you were broken before you even moved, and you came to Dublin heartbroken and alone, and you paved a way of heartbreak for yourself because you didn’t know better. You only knew hurt, so you chose your men like your father. 

He should have never listened to that phone call. Michael is quick to connect the dots after hearing Sarah’s words, and it shocks him to his core. His blood freezes in his veins. He wants nothing more than to pull you aside and demand the truth so he can figure out how to help you, but he would lose you. He knows he would lose you, and he decides against it. You will talk to him one day, and when you do, he will be there for you in any way you need. Until then, he has to offer you silent support and catch you before you can hurt yourself again. 

“Well,” he says and crosses his arms over his chest, “I never want her to go through anythin' like tha' again. I want to be the one who brings out the best in her, who helps her heal. I’m tryin’ to do right by her.”

Sarah studies him carefully. Slowly, a flicker of understanding begins to form within her. They both want the same thing for you, it becomes clearer now.

“You'd do anythin' to protect her?” she asks him again. 

He nods without missing a beat. “And you wouldn't hesitate?” she asks. 

He nods again. “I’d burn the world down for her.”

She purses her lips. “You’re different, Michael,” her voice is softer now. “I didn't think I'd ever see her with someone like ya. But I can't deny that she looks happier. It pisses me off a little because I'm not supposed to like a mobster as her boyfriend, but you seem to be a good guy.”

Michael's gaze never wavers. “I know I'm not... worthy of her,” he says, “And I know I'll never be worthy of the kind of person she is 'cause she’s fuckin' amazing, but I wanna try. I have to try, y'know? I promised her.”

“Michael, I–” She can’t find the right words to say whatever she’s thinking. 

“I loved and I lost in the past, and I never thought I’d get a second chance, so I was thinkin’ about givin’ up before I came in here and met her. She’s the best damn thing that has happened t’me in eight fuckin’ years and I would never ruin that. Ya have to believe me, Sarah. I would never hurt her the same way she was hurt. I love her so much, I–” He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I just love her,” he says, “and I won’t make the mistake of losin’ her.”

For the first time since he met her, her eyes soften visibly, and her heart opens up to him. “You really love her, don’t ya?” she asks. 

“With every fiber of my being,” he whispers. 

That's when she realizes you were right all along. All it takes is to meet him, and whatever she thought he would be fades into the background. Sarah realizes that Michael is not the villain and he will probably never be. He may carry the burden of his past, but his love for you shines through. A man like that deserves your devotion and a chance at redemption, and she feels foolish for how she acted around him.

She feels stupid for talking about him the way she did to you and making you feel like your relationship wasn't accepted. She probably made you angry and guilty at the same time, and she wants nothing more than to make up for her own idiocy now. 

“You better keep that promise, Michael,” Sarah says. “She's been through hell, and she deserves nothin' less than genuine love and happiness. I can see how much she means to ya, and I want to believe in what ya told me. I'm... I'm sorry for how I treated you, tha' wasn't fair, but she’s my best friend and I will raise hell if she ever gets hurt again.”

“She won’t get hurt, not on my watch.”

“I hope fer your sake that’s true. And I hope ya know what yer getting yourself into. She's not an easy person to love, but she's worth it. Just make sure yer there for her when she needs you the most.”

“I promise,” he says. “And thank you fer– well, for tryin’ to understand. It means a lot.”

She raises a finger. “Don’t think yer out of the woods yet,” she tells him, “but I can see the love in your eyes and… no one has ever looked at her like tha’, so I will support ya. Both of you. And if you ever need anythin’,” Sarah offers him a smile, “Don’t hesitate to ask.”

His shoulders slack as the relief washes over him. “Thank you,” he repeats. 

She brushes him off with a simple, “Don’t thank me, just be good to her.”

And he vows to do so every day, the same way he vows to protect her with his life if need be. 

She bites her cheek, turning back to the ladder leading up to the shelf. He watches her features contort as she contemplates, and then she finally turns back to him. “Can ya help me with cleanin’ that shelf now?” she asks. 

Michael smirks, putting his towel away and approaching her. “Happily,” he says. 

They may not be friends, but they bonded over their love for you, and it is something important to have in common. They both want the same for you; they both want you to be saved and loved, and Michael will do everything in his power to give that to you. 

Only a few minutes later, you finally find your way back from the basement, carrying four cartons of milk. “I was almost eaten by two very large spiders!” you declare. “They were the size of my fucking head and now I am very disgusted. I didn't know we were living in Australia. Also, Oliver-” you point at where your colleague is standing and switching out the offer signs at the door, “I hate your guts for making me go down there.”

Oliver only smirks, triumphant that it wasn't him in your position. “Well, as long as you got the milk, you won the Spider War,” he says. “You're Spider-Woman now. Act like it.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want,” you retort. “Just wait until I lock you down there to be eaten alive.”

Michael, finally done with the top shelf, approaches you. “So, the size of yer head, huh?” he asks. He uses his hands to measure your face, tapping the crown of your head gently, then squeezing your cheeks. “Are you sure they weren't just tiny little spiders?”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “They were gigantic, Michael!” you insist. “I'm not exaggerating.”

“Really? How big? Show me.”

“This big–” You demonstrate the size of the spiders with your hands. However, with each gesture, the space between your hands gets smaller and smaller, much to Michael's amusement. “See, they were huge! Like this!” you barely leave any space between your fingers. “This big,” you say. “And their legs were hairy. Hairier than your chest.”

He bursts into laughter, unable to contain himself. “What, that big?” he teases. “I didn't realize we have giant mutant spiders here in Dublin.”

Feeling a bit exasperated, you pout. “Stop making fun of me. It's not funny! They were scary!”

He chuckles softly and pulls you into his arms. “I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean it,” he reassures you, pressing a tender kiss against your temple. “I know they creep ya out. I’m sorry.”

“They do,” your voice sounds muffled through his chest. 

“Trust me, if those spiders even dare to come close to ya, they’ll have to deal with me. No spider is going t’ lay a single leg on ya.”

You hum in approval, hugging him back as tightly as you can. “Good answer,” you say.

“And I am disgusted,” Sarah mutters behind you. “Can ya move this to the backroom or somethin’? I’m trynna focus on work.”

Oliver chimes in, “Leave the lovebirds be.”

“I would if their actions wouldn’t call me lonely in fifteen different languages.”

“Jealousy,” he sings. 

She swats him with her towel. “Shut up!”

You and Michael exchange a glance before reluctantly pulling away. He presses another kiss on your forehead, but then it’s time to resume work, and you have a lot more to teach him before your shift ends. 

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be tagged, too!) @bellaxgiornata @mattmurdocksscars @ms-murdockswift @your-not-invisible-to-me @shouldbestudying41 @glowstick-lesbian @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @norestfortheshelbywicked @1988-fiend @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mattkinsella @schneeflocky

[devotioncrater]

re the dolly stuff - its the way im halfway convinced we'll learn ted and trent have been secretly seeing each other since the end of ep 4 skdkdj (james 'final t shirt' lance i am in your walls)

that would be amazing god the absolute havoc that'd impart on the universe.

3x12 opens up with trent sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea wearing ted's shirt. maybe he is writing in his notebook. camera pans and ted's sitting right next to him playing wordle

[mikhailoisbaby]

Joy list

Tagged by @energievie @creepkinginc @mishervellous @ryantryinx

Starting off with my dogs

The cottage boys

My love @surviving-maybe

Doing wordle

The sun

Traveling

Blankets

Over sized T-shirts

Gaming

My art

Tagging : @surviving-maybe @francesrose3 @stocious @sickness-health-all-that-shit @jomilky @look-i-love-u @lukewarm-chickensoup

[crossedwithblue]

4, 23, 46!

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

A pleasure to have in class 💀

Also, 'daydreams too much' (that one was on my recommendation when I moved school, until my mum made them take it off lmaooo)

23. strange habits?

Hmm this is a tricky one, I don't know what counts as strange! Probably the reverse-hipsterism, where I chronically come to popular things late - like, I just started regularly doing Wordle a few weeks ago! Maybe also the insistence on having painted nails and (in healthier times, when it didn't give me a headache) quirky earrings, but not otherwise caring about fashion all that much.

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

Oooh so atm I've been finding old-fashion nightdresses really comfy, since they don't put any pressure on my back at all. Normally though, an old t-shirt or tunic top + comfy sweatpants or cotton trousers.

[bluedesignwall]

What a busy Saturday. It started early with a quiet breakfast over the Wordle. I even got the washing machine loaded and going and some hexie stitching in before Daughter arrived for Park Run. It was a bit foggy on the way to the park and a little chilly but it soon warmed up as we headed off on our run. We went for coffee and cake after we had done all the running. I commented on Daughters increased speed and she said she wasn't far behind me and could see me up ahead cutting my way through the pack like a mint slice, highly visible in my favourite mint coloured running t-shirt. My new running name is now Mint Slice. After the run we headed to Daughters house to deliver a trailer load of poop for her garden. We helped shovel the poop and weed her gardens before heading home for lunch. After lunch I went back around to Daughters to help her stain her front fence. It is a big job but we made good progress. While we were doing that Hubby was at home sanding the doors for the Mk1 Cortina restoration. He also made good progress too.

[thebuckblogimo]

Random notes transcribed from my phone plus other snippets of thought.

September 29, 2023

For the last six months I've been fairly diligent about recording thoughts that pop into my head on the Notes app of my phone--stuff that's even briefer than I wrote about in my previous blog entry. I've transcribed them here for your consideration:

I dislike packing. Especially for winter trips to Florida. It takes days for me to round up boxes; figure out where I put various books, papers and pamplets I want to take; assemble cables, chargers, foodstuffs, tools, bottles of wine, etc.; and determine how many t-shirts, pairs of sox, sweatshirts, etc. I should pack. And then there are all the other things I have to do before departing--put cable and internet on hold, turn off the water, pack the car-top carrier and more. Geesh...

I take heat from my wife for using what I call a "travel box." It's an old Leinenkugle's beer case--made of thick cardboard--the kind that was popular during the '50s and '60s. It's ideal for transporting books, magazines, headphones, chargers, bottles of vitamins, packages of gummies, etc. Totally practical.

I don't care for emogis. Never have. I've probably used them only a handful of times in texts. To me they're just crappy clip art.

I don't like to order pizza online. I much prefer ordering over the phone. It's the only way I can be sure of getting my pizza "with onions on half of it."

I don't get the point of those bulbous, graphic letters used in graffiti on trains, subway cars, freeway overpasses, etc. If you're going to deface public property, be creative and do something different.

I know there are TV monitors in every major college and professional football stadium pressbox. And I understand that some people can read lips. Still, I've never been able to get used to coaches who cover their mouths with a clipboard as they discuss plays or strategies with their assistants up in the booth.

I don't know how many times I've said this, but ... Often, when having conversation with friends, someone will say, "Not to change the subject..." And then they go and change the subject.

I used to enjoy playing Wordle the first thing every morning for about a year, until I decided that I enjoy my first cup of coffee even more by reading a well written opinion piece along with it.

It bugs me when I drive through areas where the gas stations display the price per per gallon with small letters below that say "Cash"; and the next displayed price is ten cents more when you pay by "Credit."

It makes me uncomfotable to look into the eyes of homeless people who stand on busy streetcorners with cardboard signs in their hands as they panhandle for money. I'm sure some are truly down on their luck, but there are a lot of scam artists out there, too.

As a stupid 19-year-old in college, I once borrowed--well, "expropriated"--11 bicycles in one day. I would take a beat up, unlocked bike at one rack and leave it at the rack in front of the building for my next class, at my dorm or the book store.

Sometimes I count how many times a bartender shakes the stainless steel container for making my "straight up" martini. I've concluded that the best martinis are shaken at least 100 times.

I often say that I was very young when my Dad would regularly take me to different corner bars in the old Detroit neigborhood where he grew up. Every one of them had a drinking age calendar with tear-off pages hanging on the back bar that said something like this: TO OBTAIN ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES YOU MUST HAVE BEEN BORN BEFORE THIS DATE IN (fill in the year). Let's say he took me to one of those joints when I was nine years old. Which would have been in 1956. That means the year printed on the calendar would have been 1935. Yikes!

Random memory: It was the spring of either 1966 or '67. My first college roommate (Hi, Eric), who grew up in a small town with a single stoplight in the thumb of Michigan, came to my home in Dearborn for a weekend visit. On a beautiful afternoon we got into the car with my Dad who proceeded to travel east on Warren Ave., past Lonyo, into Detroit. I can't recall our destination. But shortly after we traveled past the Springwells Water Treatment Plant on the left, my roomie looked right and started to laugh. "What's up?" I asked. The name of a bar on the south side of Warren struck him as being hilarious: The Atomic Bar. You had to be there.

Observation: The three favorite words/phrases used by young restaurant wait staffers these days are "awsome," "perfect" and "of course."

I get disappointed when I ride my bike or motor scooter through Grand Haven State Park and don't pick up the smell of bacon and eggs being cooked on a charcoal grill in the morning.

I'm not a big fan of using semicolns. But sentence fragments? Love 'em.

As a writer, I probably used dictionaries more often than most people I knew during my life. Now I love using the Merriam-Webster app on my computer or phone.

Speaking of dictionaries, when I was in high school there was a nun at St. Al's who regularly said to the class, "Students, take out your 'dics.'" You can imagine how the pals reacted to that one.

I get really irritated with Mr. Dopey Gym Guy. He's the dude who loads up the bar with weights, then walks across the room to talk to his buddy for 15 minutes, and gets irritated with me when he comes back and says, "I was using that."

I never watched a single episode of The Sopranos, Sex in the City, Orange Is the New Black, Game of Thrones or any other television series. But now that CBS has relaunched Yellowstone, right after Sixty Minutes on Sunday nights, I'm all in.

In my opinion, going to bed at 10 o'clock and getting up at 6:00 is better than going to bed at 12:00 and getting up at 8:00.

Finis.

[scottwojahn]

December 23rd falls next Friday. My 67th birthday. I’ve always coined it the “Eve of Christmas Eve”. Yesterday, while picking up a prescription, the woman noted my birthdate in the computer record and commented on its proximity to Christmas Day. It’s a common tease that I’ve been cheated somehow, a celebration largely shadowed by a bigger name. I smiled and told her that I’m also a twin, which makes it a double cheat. She laughed and asked if my mother dressed us alike. The answer, if you’re wondering, was… sometimes.

Some things remain. December still finds me sleeping on the couch out by the lighted Christmas tree, as is tradition. A tug from warm childhood memories of a large brick hearth built by my father and his father. I still snack too late at night and procrastinate in filling up my gas tank. I continue to splash olive oil and ruin every t-shirt I wear in the kitchen despite a stylish collection of aprons hanging nearby.

On the other hand, this year brought significant change. Three new grandchildren. Where there was one, now there are four. Our schedule is full. Full of life. Full of wooden trains and holding hands and carseats and high chairs. Full of laughing and amazement and photo sharing and hearts swelling. We’re sometimes worn out, but it’s uplifting to see your kids become parents, and a treasure to have it all happen in the same zip code.

This year we also convinced my father to move to the zip code. His diminishing faculties require more of our time and help, so he’ll be in a community a few minutes away. My family stretches from age 4 months to 96 years. I guess the theme for now is “time and help”.

Also this year, I learned to make Muhamarra, a lovely Middle Eastern red pepper and walnut spread. Begged cocktail recipes from kind bartenders. Found a new gal to cut my hair. Read more non-fiction and poetry and have a near perfect bell curve of results in Wordle. Practiced a lot of slide guitar (trying for my 10,000 hours) and attended Pilates class with Terri every Wednesday morning at 8. Not sure my flexibility is any better but it sure feels good. 

I have navigated deep loss and tried to lift up others in kind. I have sought to practice kindness and embrace simplicity. To show more love. To listen. To hear. To be more mindful, humble, and grateful. Mostly, I’m trying to live in the moment, laugh and hug as much as possible, and look for the joy and the good. Here’s to 67, and a couple of new t-shirts.

[rolliconsumer]

Spelltower high scores

#SPELLTOWER HIGH SCORES SKIN#

#SPELLTOWER HIGH SCORES PLUS#

While the game is free to play, there are also Hello Wordl-themed products available for purchase, including t-shirts, mugs, and even a Hello Wordl board game. Hello Wordl is known for being addictive and challenging, with many players spending hours trying to beat their high scores. The goal is to correctly guess all of the words in each level before time runs out. Hello Wordl is a popular online word game that challenges players to unscramble a series of jumbled words. See Also: 8 Best GeoGuessr Alternatives (Free) 3.

#SPELLTOWER HIGH SCORES SKIN#

Speaking of the options, you can choose the hard mode and dark skin as well. I would definitely recommend Absurdle to anyone who’s looking for a great online game to play. It is a great way to improve your creative thinking and have some fun with friends at the same time! The game is really challenging and it’s really addicting. The game can be played with any number of players, and there is no need for any prior knowledge of Absurdle or vocabulary. In Absurdle, players take turns making up words and definitions for made-up words, with the goal of trying to be the funniest or most clever. AbsurdleĪbsurdle is a word game that has been gaining popularity lately as an alternative to Wordle. Overall, Nerdle is a great choice for anyone looking for a powerful word cloud tool.

#SPELLTOWER HIGH SCORES PLUS#

Moreover, it also supports RTL (right-to-left) languages, which is a huge plus for international users. You can also use Nerdle to create word clouds from any language, not just English. This means that you can specify which words you want to include or exclude from your word cloud. For starters, Nerdle lets you create custom word lists. Not only does Nerdle have all the features that Wordle has, but it also has some extra features that make it even more powerful. Nerdle is one of the best Wordle alternatives out there. If you’re looking for something new or want more variety in your daily routine then don’t worry – we’ve got just what will suit all of those needs! 10 Wordle Alternatives in 2022 (Free Included) 1. However, there are many word games out on the market that offer similar and better features. The catch is that the words must be related to the given topic.įor example, if the topic is “spring,” the player might need to unscramble the letters to form the words “flowers,” “sunshine,” and “rain.” Wordle is not only a fun way to pass the time, but it also helps players improve their vocabulary and spelling skills. The game is simple: players are given a list of words, and they must unscramble the letters to form new words. Wordle is a web-based word game that allows users to create visually stunning word clouds.

[tenet-wordle]

TENET Wordle Essential T-Shirt

[theboost]

t shirt that says I cheat freely and unashamedly at wordle

[pattern-recognition]

t shirt that says “i don’t know what wordle is” on the front and “and i don’t care enough to find out” on the back. will still be funny for like 3 days

[vainkaz]

Just remoemebered my nerdy Einstein t shirt toting nerd loves doing octowordle. 8 wordles in one

[xsecretblastsx]

2x02 - Never Been Marcused

Here we are on a new recap, sadly we say good bye to the hamptons on this episode, but it seems fitting considering is the start of fall after all. 

This one of those episodes were I barely remember what happens except for a few scenes here and there from my first watch, so it almost felt like watching a new episode. Anyway here we go.

As usual recap under the cut:

Thoughts I had while watching the episode:

Akward morning after talk between Dan and Serena, not my prefered way for the start of an episode, but what can I do

Well they are kind of cute here, I’ll admit. Though I’m kind of glad Serena’s first instict wasn’t to get back together right there and actually acknoweldging their break up had a lot of reasons behind it.

Blair looks super cute riding that bicycle, so picture perfect. Too bad is only on paper. That Marcus guy is super boring.

Blair can be like “Revenge is so 12 hours ago” but Serena’s is all of us being like “Sure Blair, you totally love Marcus and all of this has nothing to do with Chuck ofc” 

I’m not sure if being refered as “ a perfect post Bass palate cleanser” can be taken as a compliment. And just like magic a wild Bass appears.

I’m just here to enjoy the akward moment every single boyfriend of Blair has to endure whenever they realize that Chuck Bass is going to be a relevant part of said relationship.

“For England” Marcus your nation is surely going to be proud of you for acting like a total englishman and accepting to be civil with Chuck Bass, the guy who just totally manipulated you into inserting himself in your date.

“Blair Waldorf a fling... you’re not exactly low maintenance” Serena speaking words of wisdom.

I guess abstinence (on Serena’s side mostly) was hard for Serena and Dan, otherwise I can’t understand why they’re acting as if keeping their hands to themselves is so difficutl, they never seemed that type of couple in S1.

Blair called him Charles, I guess she was pretty mad. 

That whole sequence of Dan and Serena fooling around on the Jitney is soooo extra, and so unintentionally funny.

Nate’s family drama is never ending, though imagine the tragedy it must be for any UES to lose their money. Auch.

Surprise! Nate’s fling is actually the Duchess.

This whole dialogue: “No offense but don’t you think you’re a little outmached?” “As a guy. Blair wants to be a princess (>.<) and your greatest achievement is owning part of a burlesque club” and the cherry on top “Oh you know is love when you star talking like an assasin” Oh Nate Archibald, I love you. 

Also apparently Chuck did spend tme with Bart from time to time, is kind of hard for me to imagine them playing Squash though.

Chuck keeping noble secrets from Nate. That’s love.

Hi Rufus... and Vanessa

Oh Marcus, giving so much intel to his new “best friend”.Also I kind of like the polo/vest combo Chuck’s wearing there. Weird.

“I have to present myself as crown jewel, sorrounded by other smaller slightly flawed gems, but quality stones nonetheless” this is such Blair thing to say haha.

“If you can’t find common ground wiht a dictator I don’t know who can” The added commentary is really making this episode for me. 

I’ve never related more to Blair than this moment where she express how great it is that Serena’s free from Dan.

I just love when we get to see how much Chuck actually cares about Nate, selling his shares of Victrola is no small deal.

Nate and Vanessa! I still can’t believe how much I don’t mind, and actually kind of like this ship.

I kind of would love to see Anne Archibald doing her shopping at Salvation’s Army.

I love the combination of that suit with that shirt Chuck’s wearing, the color really suits him. I don’t know why but I’m noticing his wardobre much more this time around. Figures. I do remember thinking the first time around he was going to try and seduce the duchess. Now that would have been another akward moment of “Sorry Nate”

Serena looks so pretty here, even if I’m not that fan of her outfil. 

“So she can warn me about the effects of too much botox” auch.  Chuck: 1, Blair: 0. and he’s definately enjoying it.

I so wish Rufus had gone to tour again. He deserved to live that dream to the fullest.

“A lowly Waldorf” wow. Even I was hurt by that. 

I love it when the GG voice oveer points out how ridiculous everything is. Case in point: “Chuck and Blair’s dates are mother and son, and Nate and Blair are exces, and Nate and the mother are in a book club?”

I get why Nate is mad at Chuck for not being upfront about the money, because it’s not easy addmitting that kind of problems in their wordl and even less accepting that kind of help, but Chuck’s intentions were good. Fact is he always helps Nate anyway he can.

The fact that Dan and Serena’s plotline this episode was basically just trying to resist each other, and I can’t help but think that this was the show’s way of trying to make them be more “chair like”, you know intense chemistry and sex appeal. As if.

“if the best version of the situation is I’m going to become Blair’s father in law I think is just time to move on” Now imagine that, thanks to Nate for putting that horrifying thought in my head.

And this is the start of Nate Archibald the gigolo.

“Oh my effing God” same Blair, same. Props to Nate for still acting so rightous and being all like “I don’t have anything to explain to you” 

Blair telling the Duchess how things are going to be now... You go baby Vamp!

“I’m gonna turned it in a novel” so I guess this throway line was the start of “Inside” 

Rufus beyond anything was first a Dad, the Humphrey kids got the best dad in the show, the kind of Dad any of the NJBC would have love to have as a parent, and yet they feel they were the unlucky ones.

That last scene between Chuck and Blair is such a display of chemistry a lot of ships wish they had. and the literal definition of what eye sexing each other means. 

I feel so bad for Nate and Vanessa right now... with the add visual bonus of her sadly blowing the candles for a date that wasn’t. Feeling sad for Vanessa, now that’s new for me.

So this episode while there are moments that I really liked and it did kind of move the plot forward in some points, it also fills a lot like a filler episode and like I don’t really have much to say about it. Maybe because these storylines while I don’t hate them I don’t particularly like them either, in particular this chapter of the Serena and Dan saga this episode feels such a waste of time, they’re basically stalling because they really don’t want to have the difficult conversation of why they broke up and how they can fix their issues, and so to keep avoiding they distract themselves with taming their unrestrained need for sleeping with each other... sorry but what?

I’m not saying there’s no chemistry between Dan and Serena, but their relationship in S1 except for like 1 or two scenes was very much rooted in cutesy moments, tenderness, and how Serena was better with Dan (ugh) and how he wanted for her, not only because she was super hot, they never acted like “oh it’s so hard to keep our hands from each other, and we can’t resist this atraction” that couple were Chuck and Blair, so on this episode I just can’t buy it, it seems forced, almost as if the show wanted them to be more exciting and outrageous... to keep them as the main couple of the show as they were suposed to be, after all at this point of the show while Chuck and Blair were getting more traction, they hadn’t really overtook the show as they eventually did. It also felt part of the “omfg” vibe the show was going for, that scene in the Jitney was so extra, though in my case rather than getting me into them just made me laugh. 

Nate storyline on the other hand is the one that really went places this episodes. It turns out his family is on the brink up bankrupcy because all the legal issues his dad is facing, and because his grandfather won’t help he and his mother are a very precarious situation wich leads Nate to seek help. He tries going to Chuck but on one hand he doesn’t really now how to explaint the situation, and also Chuck’s apparently really busy with scheming his way back to Blair. Except Chuck because he knows Nate is going to refuse him and he can’t help but help him either way sells his shares on Victrola and gives the money to Nate’s mom. Of course when Nate finds out he gets mad, because pride and also because he hates that Chuck lied to him about Victrola and to be fair it hasn’t been that long since they had a big fall out because Chuck wasn’t honest about stuff, so there’s that. Still, I feel I must take a moment to point out how much Nate actually means to Chuck? He loves that club, it’s a place with a lot of sentimental meaning too for a lot of reason and yet Chuck doesn’t hesitate to part with it if meants helping Nate. I know Chuck makes plenty of mistakes and awful things during the show, but these kind of moments are always kind of overlook and I just feel that’s unfair because only focusin on the worst of him, reduces him to this one dimensional villian, and in reality Chuck is one of the most complex characters on this show. These kind of moments are an example of his many layers.

So back to Nate, he ends up going to Vanessa, and I just feel this rewatch is turning me into a Nate and Vanessa shipper. Truth is I never hated this couple, but I was a bit meh to it, in part because Vanessa annoys the hell out of me for the most part, but I always thought she was less annoying with Nate. I like how she just sits and listens to Nate, and I think this is something that his best friends are not always the best at, Chuck tries but he’s more the type of friend that goes into action, he does what is need to do in order help rather than the heart to heart talk, and Nate and Serena’s friendship at this point while getting there, is kind of akward still and also there’s always some crisis going on her life that prevents her for being fully there, and Blair and Nate well.. they weren’t ever the talking type. So Vanessa helps with that, also when the show started Nate wanted in someway to detached himself from the UES and all it’s expectations and so Vannesa was that needed breeze of fresh air, and while she can be as judgy as Dan, I always felt she made more of an effort with Nate to be understanding than Dan ever was with the UES. So I like them, at least for now. Too bad Catherine happens and while Nate was really into the idea of having an affair with her this episode he realizes that’s an awful idea (the fact that she has a step son that’s older than him and is also dating Blair is admiteddly gross) but it’s a desperate time, and she offers him her help... and so we got Nate the gigolo, and that last scene in the taxi when he cancels on Vanessa made me sooo sad.

Lastly we have the Chuck and Blair part of the story, it’s always fun to see them scheming, and Chuck’s tactics these episode are rather sucessful at first and it’s mostly a display of him knowing Blair so well that he’s able to get the upper hand on all of her efforts to get on the Lord and his family good side. I should feel bad for her, in the sense that Chuck’s ruiningin her plans and it’s not fair because if he had showed up to Tuscany everything would be different. And yet I’m kind of glad he gets on her way because truthfully, this is just one of those times that Blair is trying to show herself as something she isnt’ in order to get a guy, and also climb higher in the social hierarchy, and it pains me because at the end of the day is just Blair not accepting herself, like Serena keeps pointing out through all the episode, just show the real Blair sure, she’s anything but low maintainance but there’s a lot of amazing in her that can make her shine to anyone. This plot also reminded me a bit of Blair and the prince storyline and also (because this party was trying to be very pretentious and sofisticated) that saloon thing she did with Dan in Season 5 and just remembering that gives me nightmare. So really not a fan of these particular scenes. In the end she ends up gaining the duchess via blackmail, which I like because I hate the Duchess so I’m all for Blair showing her Queen B side in full display and after this episode I missed it. It’s also the basis of that great moment at the end between her and Chuck in the Van der Bass kitchen, which is easily the most memorable thing in the whole hour and only for that I’m glad this episode exists. The chemistry and sexual tension  of this whole scene is amazing and it puts to shame all the Dan and Serena “can’t keep their hand of each ohter” scenes, this is how is done. Sorry Derena.

Random bits I noticed:

The Pierces song playing in the background at the start of the episode, “Boy in a Rock and Roll Band” always puts me in a good mood for some reason.

That pearl headband Blair’s wearing at the party were so popular here for a while, I loved it so much back then, I sort of wish I had one now.

I loved the “Summer 08″ collage the Humphrey’s had in their loft. It also had this phrase “ I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality... I still believe that we shall overcome” by Dr. Martin Luther King. Kind of relevant isn’t it?

Having and episode ending with a shot of  the NYC skyline at night, while New York, I Love You but You’re Bringing Me Down playing in the background... these are the kind of details I love. 

Ending with a Chuck pick because I really like this suit