Tate couldn’t help but laugh at a little at ‘she was nice’.Poor, poor naive boy ; Constance was a cold-hearted bitch, but he’d learn over time. His mother had something of a skill at getting on people’s bad sides. “Seventeen,” he replied. The cigarette was brought up to his lips for once last puff before he snuffed it against the soul of his shoe. He’d typically just toss it into the yard, but despite his severe lack of social skills, even he knew that would be rude right in front of Blaine. “Happy early birthday, man. I’ll try to remember that.” He was right around Violet’s age.
“I uhm, I actually don’t go to that school anymore. They kicked me out. For fighting.” He draped his arm around the banister at the end of the stair’s railing to lean against. Tate’s game plan was to make enough conversation, and linger enough, that he was invited inside ; This kid seemed friendly enough. “My mom homeschools me now. I don’t — I don’t make friends very easily, I guess. So, when ma told me you just moved in, and you were right around my age, I wanted to come say hi. So — hi.”
Blaine noticed the laugh and had to wonder exactly how badly the strange woman had to get on her son’s nerves to earn that kind of sardonic chuckle just from someone telling him she was nice. Interesting dynamic, perhaps? How interesting, though? In the end? At least she was around to get on her son’s nerves. Who knew what was better? Absentee or hover parenting? Maybe they could compare notes one day. Hazel eyes brightened and a truly grateful smile greeted the birthday wish. “Thanks. I have no plans yet. If you do remember, you should come by.” It’d be better than spending it alone and if he wasn’t alone? The company to distract him from his parents and his brother (if he was free enough to visit) was more than welcome.
So, that was why he didn’t recognize Tate in the slightest. Blaine motioned towards a planter where he could get rid of his cigarette butt. No one would notice it there. “Why were you the one kicked out?” Genuine curiosity was clear in his voice. “If you don’t mind me asking? Wait–sorry. Before you answer that,” he thumbed over his shoulder towards the door, “Did you want to come in?” Bending, he grabbed his bag and waited for Tate to take him up on the offer. “I’m sure I can find us something to eat if you’re hungry?”
( sms to: blanderson ) 🖕 ( sms to: blanderson ) Laugh it up. At least my life is more exciting than yours. ( sms to: blanderson ) I’m gonna stop answering you. ( sms to: blanderson ) Fuck that. I’ve been laying here for like twenty minutes now.
( mssg » puckerman | sent )😮 ( mssg » puckerman | sent )Exciting? My life is plenty exciting enough. Thank you very much. ( mssg » puckerman | sent ) Why? Please don’t. I don’t want to miss the glorious moment when you start picking bark dust out of your underwear. That, truly, is a rockstar life you’re living. ( mssg » puckerman | sent ) Twenty minutes? How can you pretend to be remotely comfortable enough to do that?
AND WHEN I’M IN THE AUDIENCE, WATCHING YOU I WANT TO BE ABLE TO SAY, “THAT’S MY KID BROTHERUP THERE.
“Well, she has proven to be a bit of a walking hazard.” Michael replies lightly, gaze turned briefly to the fluffy dog held to his chest as her little head comes to rest on his shoulder with a little huff. Princess indeed. His smile sweetens at that just before his gaze flicks back to Blaine as the man continues speaking- just before a wholehearted chuckle is prompted from him. A day of firsts sounded about right, he thinks as he considers just how hard it would be to teach this dog to trip handsome strangers.
Michael remembers once being told by a girl whose boyfriend apparently had been a customer of Michael’s in the past that his laugh was the only pure thing about him. He certain hopes he had that left, but mostly he wonders how on earth she’d been so pleasant talking to a hooker her lover once took into a back alley. Either way looking at the way Blaine’s smile lights up his face, Michael is fairly certain he’s just been beat.
“While she probably could learn tripping on command, I don’t think she’d be able to spot the handsome ones from her vantage point.” It was a bit bold for him during the day. Michael on his own truly wasn’t much of a flirt, not when he spent all night doing that, and certainly not when he knew perfectly well how bad it could turn out behaving in such a way around the wrong people- but a friendly spoken compliment to a friendly man, intent as lighthearted as it can be, should be safe enough.
“She has, hasn’t she? Serial tripper in the works. Better keep an eye on her,” his nose scrunched, eyes squinting like he was sharing some secret warning, “You know? In case it starts becoming a habit. Watch for warning signs. All that stuff.” Just when he thought the tiny, fuzzy ball of cute could make his heart melt anymore than it already had, Apple nuzzled into Michael’s neck and Blaine’s entire face softened into a look of utter ‘awwwwh!’. Problem was? When he got that look? Apple had her work cut out for matching Blaine’s level of puppy dog eyes.
However, abrupt laughter made them wrinkle at their corners as Blaine stepped around a woman standing directly in the path of oncoming foot traffic chatting away on her phone. Someone couldn’t do two things at once! Thankfully, Blaine could and avoided an embarrassing collision with someone much bigger than Michael’s tiny companion.. Olive cheeks were flush with color thanks to the compliment.
“Maybe just letting her run into random strangers and taking a chance with fate might be a better idea? Who knows who you’ll meet. Or where you’ll end up. Speaking of which?” Blaine nodded towards the door of a brick front with a weathered white wooden door and several silver dog bowls sitting on the sidewalk out front. “Here we are. You first,” he held the door open and motioned for Michael and the puppy to go ahead. Then snuck in a rub to her nose as they passed by.
[ sms to: blanderson ] If i was sure I would have said yes asshole [ sms to: blanderson ] No, no memories. I just checked my call log and it showed that you were the last person I called. [ sms to: blanderson ] Well I’m alive and I woke up in my apartment, so I’d say everything turned out alright. [ sms to: blanderson ] I mean I woke up in the bathtub but still my apartment.
( mssg » puckerman | sent ) Hey! No need for name calling! In spite of the fact that I might be laughing at you right now. Jerk. ( mssg » puckerman | sent ) You’re your very own Sherlock Holmes. Great deduction work there. I’m impressed. ( mssg » puckerman | sent ) And, also, still laughing. ( mssg » puckerman | sent ) The bathtub? Have you tried moving yet? I don’t think that’s going to feel very good when you do.
Stephen Edwin King (born September 21, 1947) is an American author of contemporary horror, suspense, science fiction and fantasy. His books have sold more than 350 million copies and have been adapted into a number of feature films, television movies and comic books. King has published 50 novels, including seven under the pen-name of Richard Bachman, and five non-fiction books. He has written nearly two hundred short stories, most of which have been collected in nine collections of short fiction. Many of his stories are set in his home state of Maine.
King has received Bram Stoker Awards, World Fantasy Awards, British Fantasy Society Awards, his novella The Way Station was a Nebula Award novelette nominee, and his short story “The Man in the Black Suit” received the O. Henry Award. In 2003, the National Book Foundation awarded him the Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters. He has also received awards for his contribution to literature for his whole career, such as the World Fantasy Award for Life Achievement (2004), the Canadian Booksellers Association Lifetime Achievement Award (2007) and the Grand Master Award from the Mystery Writers of America (2007).
[ sms to: blanderson ] no ? [ sms to: blanderson ] oh wait. maybe. [ sms to: blanderson ] shhhiiittt i don’t remember that at all lmfao
( mssg » puckerman | sent ) Are you sure? I’m pretty sure my phone begs to differ when it comes to the name it’s showing. ( mssg » puckerman | sent ) Also, voice and yelps/groans of you landing in said bushes. ( mssg » puckerman | sent ) There we go! Hello memories! Sorry if your brain was trying to forget that moment and I just ruined it. I hope you made it home okay? ( mssg » puckerman | sent ) Or somewhere that wasn’t..umm..shrubbery at least?
important;; don’t be shy if you have a plot idea with me. I’m really open to these big, intricate storylines between our muses that have room to expand the characters and see development. Wanna ship our muses? Hit me up. Think my muse would be a great sibling figure to your character? Tell me. Have a cliche plot that you wanna do? I’m down. Please, I honestly love making these storylines and falling head over heels for a ship or get really emotional over relationships and enjoy how the story & characters progress.
“You know? I didn’t think it was possible for someone to slam a door when, in fact, the door in question is a curtain. But! This is the second time in the last week you’ve managed to make her bound and determined to pull it off. Do you ever think she’ll catch on that it doesn’t quite have the same Rachel Storming Out Oomf Effect that I think she’s really going for?”
pianokeysandbowties 