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Torn Ch 4 --- John Wick x OC fic

A/N: Remember my long neglected John Wick x OC fic? No? Well, finally got around to another chapter. Need a refresh? 

Ch 1 --- Ch2 --- Ch 3 

“Hmm. I’m really not sure! I’m leaning towards the textured blush paper with gold envelopes but I---I really don’t know.” The indecisive bride-to-be ran her hands over the paper options laid out before her on the large wooden table. She fixed her eyes on Kristen with a look that spoke volumes of just how overwhelmed she was. “What do you think?” She asked hesitantly. Kristen smiled warmly and set down her pen. “Personally, I really like the combination of the sage green envelope lined with gold and the blush pink paper for the card. It works all of your colours into it and I think it will look soft and elegant---but it’s really all up to you. Trust your taste!” The woman across from her lit up with excitement. “Oh my gosh! I love that idea SO MUCH! Yes. You know what? Let’s do that.” She said. “Ok, sage green, gold and pink it is! I’ll need a list of full names and addresses to do the hand lettering---as soon as you can get them to me.” Kristen said. “Of course! We just finalized the guestlist so I can have that to you by the end of the week.” She let out a sigh and visibly relaxed. “Thank you so much for everything Kristen. You’re a dream to work with!” 

Kristen smiled widely and gathered up the requested items and tucked them into a thin box. “That’s so kind. I’m happy to be a small part of your big day.” She said. “We just got in some really gorgeous planners if you need one to keep track of everything.” She said as she gestured to the display at the front of the shop. “Actually, I could use one---planning this wedding is a beast of a task. I mean, I’m excited and all---but it’s a lot!” Kristen smiled knowingly. “It is---but you’ll get it done. Just make sure to take some time to yourselves and recharge too. Thanks again for trusting me with your invites. If you have any questions about planners Steph can help you.” Kristen said, gesturing towards Steph behind the counter before heading to her office. She loved these client meetings but always needed a few moments to herself afterwards. Weddings were the bread and butter of her business---so she always put so much pressure on herself. She sank into her office chair and sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. 

The gentle knock on the door startled her. “Boss?” Steph asked as she peeked into the office. “Someone is asking about a supply order.” “Oh. Thanks Steph. I’ll be right there.” Kristen sighed again and stood up. Drumming her fingertips on the smooth surface of her desk. Collecting her thoughts. She checked her appearance in the mirror by the door and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear before striding to the shop counter. “Hello madam. You must be Kristen, yes?” She was taken aback at the formality of the persons speech. “Yes, that’s me. How can I help you?” “Pleased to meet you Kristen, I’m James. I’ve been sent on behalf of my employer---we’re looking for a supplier of fine paper goods for our boutique hotel.” “You’d be my first corporate client---I’ve never done wholesale before.” “We’ve heard good things about you---and we always deal locally when we can.” He said. “Well, shall we get started?” She asked. “Yes, please. Thank you for accommodating me, it’s most appreciated---and apologies for not setting up an advance appointment.” “There’s no need for apologies.” She said with a warm smile. “So you’re a new boutique hotel in town?” “We’ve been in Buffalo for a long time but the city has changed so much. We feel it’s the right time to reopen.” James said. “We do value discretion. The plans haven’t been announced yet.” He added pointedly. “Understood.” She said with a sly smile. “Your secret is safe with me.” They worked together to put together the initial order for the hotel. Planners, stationary, pens, pencils. Plain black leather bound notebooks. “Do you need the name of a printer to have the items branded with your logo? I have a great one I work with.” “No, thank you. We like to keep things very minimal. Exclusive.” He said. That struck Kristen as odd. What kind of hotel didn’t want or need branded stationary? It must be a very expensive hotel---but in Buffalo? How would that work out she wondered. They worked together efficiently to get everything sorted. James followed her to the register. “Do you accept coin or shall I pay by card?” “Coin?” She asked with a small polite laugh. James immediately brought out his black company card and left the gold coins in his pocket. “Card is fine.” She said as she rang up the order. “Here’s my business card. Please do call when everything arrives. It’s been a real pleasure, Kristen.” “Likewise. Thank you for coming in. I’ll be in touch when everything is ready.” She said, taking his very elegant business card from him. “Have a pleasant evening.” He said as he left the store. “You too.” She called out distractedly as she examined the exquisitely designed business card. The Continental. Buffalo, New York. It read in elegant gold script. She recognized the address. It was a beautiful old building downtown. It had been empty for decades and she always hoped it would be saved from the wrecking ball. “What what that guy’s deal?” Steph asked loudly, causing Kristen to jump. She looked out the door and then at Steph with a puzzled look on her face. “I honestly have no idea. He was kind of...odd. Wasn’t he?” Steph laughed. “He’s definitely not from here. I know that for sure. He seemed, British?” Kristen hummed in agreement. 

-----------------------------------------------------

John was at the kitchen island with the crossword and a cup of coffee, his pen in hand, brows furrowed, when she came in with the groceries. Kristen put the bags down in front of the fridge before she wrapped her arms around his waist and placed a kiss on his temple. “Crossword, huh?” She said as she peered over his shoulder. “Mmm.” “You know I have many comfortable chairs to sit on, right?” She said with a laugh. He turned to meet her eyes and smirked. “I like your kitchen. It’s comfortable. It’s better with you here, though.” Kristen’s face scrunched up as a blush crept across her cheeks. “You absolute sap.” She said as she swatted his shoulder playfully. He smiled and shrugged. “Oh---I read that there’s a meteor shower tonight. I was thinking we could drive out somewhere near my place and see what we can spot?” He said. She smiled and shook her head. 

It was one of those moments where what he had done for a living and who he really was stood in such contrast that she couldn’t help but laugh. “What?” He asked as he bumped his shoulder against hers. “You got a date idea from an actual newspaper. It's funny---and very sweet and sounds like fun.” She playfully pushed him off of her and crossed her arms. A small smirk on her lips. “Yeah, yeah I’m an old man.” He said with a laugh as Kristen turned and started putting the groceries away. “I’d help you but -- my aching bones and all.” He shot her a pointed look before he turned back to the crossword with a huge grin on his face. 

He lasted all of 30 seconds before he was at her side helping put things away. “How did your bridal consult go?” He asked, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in against his chest. She felt herself relax, letting go of tension she didn’t even know she was carrying. “It went really well.” She said. “No bridezilla action? I don’t have to get involved?” He teased. “No, she was great actually---just the usual deer-in-the-headlights look that most people who plan their own wedding have.” He squeezed her a bit tighter in his arms and kissed her forehead. He thought about his own wedding. It seemed so long ago now but not nearly long enough to stop his heart from feeling that familiar tug of grief. The edges of it had dulled a bit---and even more since he’d finally been able to open up to Kristen about it. His very next thought was of her. What she’d look like walking towards him. Toward a life together. “John, you’re squishing me.” She said, snapping him out of his thoughts. He loosed his grip on her and ran his hands down her arms. Taking her hands in his. “I’m in love with you, Kristen.” He said quietly. Almost to himself. “I love you.” He said loudly, his eyes filled with warmth and hope as he gazed down at her, a smile playing on the edges of his lips. Her breath hitched in her throat. John watched her expression carefully. Taking in how her lips parted and her eyes went wide as she registered what he’d said. She squeezed his hands tightly. “I love you too. So much.” She looked radiant. Her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes softly. He leaned down and kissed her, one hand splayed on her lower back as he slid the other into her hair. He leaned back against the kitchen island and pulled her tighter against him. He hadn’t meant to blurt out his feelings for her like this---but it felt right. This moment. In her kitchen. She was his home---and maybe he could be hers. 

--------------------------------------

They leaned back against the bumper of the car, watching the meteors track across the sky. Steam rose from their thermoses of hot chocolate, dissipating into the cold autumn night as Dog and Gremlin sat at their feet. They’d become fast friends---much to the relief and delight of John and Kristen. Dog never minded when Gremlin would lean on or even sleep on him. He’d give the occasional sigh of resignation and that would be it. “It’s beautiful out here. How’d you find this place?” She asked. John shifted and pulled her in closer to his side. “When I first moved here I was alone a lot. Restless. I think I took Dog to every park, every hiking trail all around the area.” He said. “Oh! That reminds me---there may be a new place we can explore together soon.” She said. “Where’s that?” He asked before taking a sip of his drink and staring up into the sky. “A new boutique hotel is opening up---or supposedly, reopening downtown. They came to my shop for a huge stationary supply order---but here’s the thing, the guy was really kind of weird. So...formal? I’m not sure how well it’s going to go over here.” “You said reopening?” John asked. Dread crystalizing in the pit of his stomach. “Steph thought it was weird too. I mean, he asked if he could pay by coin or card. What a dad joke.” She said. “What did you just say?” He asked. Kristen noticed that John’s whole demeanor had suddenly changed. “Coin or card.” She repeated. John pulled away from her. “It wasn’t a joke, Kristen.” John said harshly. “Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner. You have NO IDEA what you’ve gotten yourself into.” “John---I was about to tell you when I got home but then the conversation we were having seemed more important. Kristen, I love you. That’s nice but this weird guy came into the shop today. Would have been better for you?” She said, throwing her hands up, her lips drawn into a hard line. John exhaled and shut his eyes, taking a minute to calm down. “No, you’re right. You had no idea that this meant anything and I’m sorry. Did he tell you what the name of the hotel was?” He asked. “Shit, I think it started with a C. The Centennial? No. That’s not right.” She said. “The Continental?” John asked flatly. “Yeah, that’s it. How did you know?” “It means they know about us.” “Who’s they?” She asked “The High Table. The people I used to...work for.”

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Eugene brewery Oakshire Brewing selects Heart Shaped Box, as their first Vintage beer program release of 2020.

Press Release

image sourced from Oakshire Brewing Company

EUGENE, Ore. — After a year hiatus, Heart Shaped Box returns as Oakshire’s first release of 2020 from its Vintage beer program; a timely release as this delectable stout is a very special beer for the approaching holiday of love. Aged in Kentucky bourbon barrels, this Imperial Chocolate Stout packs decadent flavor with tart raspberries, organic vanilla beans, organic cocoa nibs, and locally roasted organic Guatemalan coffee from Farmers Union Coffee Roasters in Eugene. With layers upon layers of flavor and ringing in at 14% ABV, Heart Shaped Box can best be enjoyed by sipping slowly with someone you love.

Released periodically since 2011 with sweet cherries in place of raspberries, the release of Heart Shaped Box was skipped in 2019 to put some extra love into this 2020 Vintage release. Heart Shaped Box began its life as a massive Imperial Chocolate Stout in early 2019 and was laid to rest in freshly emptied Kentucky Bourbon barrels from Heaven Hill Distilleries. “For the return of Heart Shaped Box we decided to take a different direction for this beer than prior years. Originally created with sweet cherries, we decided to switch the fruit to tart raspberries for 2020,” says Dan Russo, Director of Brewing Operations. “The result is an immersive and decadent sipping treat.” “Pouring with a thick, dark, brown head, the nose bursts of fresh bakers’ chocolate, bright mixed berry, and beautiful notes of espresso. The first sip hits you with fresh cocoa pods, marshmallow fluff, and jammy berry with a beautiful tartness balancing with sweetness. Each sip brings layers of the above in different waves, intermingling into a beer worthy of immense conversation, as the body coats the tongue with a wonderful and lingering richness,” says Russo.

Released at Oakshire’s latest Tuesday Beer Release, Heart Shaped Box comes in packaging worthy of sharing with the one you love most – wrapped with red and pink labels, decorated with a heart, and dipped in red wax. A limited amount of Heart Shaped Box bottles will be available at the Public House in Eugene and the Portland Beer Hall in Northeast Portland starting Tuesday, January 28th at 6 PM. On Friday, February 14th, Oakshire will tap the last and very limited amount of Heart Shaped Box at their taprooms. If you are lucky to enjoy a pour or a bottle on this day, your purchase will be joined with a very special chocolate created specifically for pairing with this beer by Davey’s Chocolate’s in Eugene. Oakshire encourages fans to stop by their taprooms soon for this very limited Vintage release and a unique opportunity to “sit back, enjoy, and become locked inside of our Heart Shaped Box.”

About Oakshire Brewing

Oakshire Brewing of Eugene, Oregon, is a community inspired small batch brewing company founded in 2006. Oakshire is privately owned by the family and friends of its founders, employs 28 people, and produces a wide variety of beers through its three distinct brewing programs: Core, Pilot, and Vintage. These beers are available on draft and in package through Oakshire’s exceptional wholesale partners in Oregon, Washington, and Colorado. Oakshire operates two taprooms in Oregon, the Oakshire Public House in Eugene is located at 207 Madison Street, and the Oakshire Beer Hall in NE Portland, which is located at 5013 NE 42nd Ave. Both locations are open 11am to 10pm daily. For more information about Oakshire, including our people, locations and beers, visit our website at oakbrew.com.

from Northwest Beer Guide - News - The Northwest Beer Guide http://bit.ly/2v5Zsls

Private Tutor. Chapter Twenty-Two; Turquoise, Emerald, Topaz.

It’s back! Sorry it’s taken me so long to get this out, for those who’ve been waiting. Work has started back and I’ve been buried under a mass of new schemes of learning.

Massive thanks to @suhailauniverse who helps me with everything ever and to @gotham-ruaidh who is the reason this happened in the first place.

MASTER LIST: for those who’d like a recap, re-read or just other chapters <3

The flat seemed incredibly quiet as Claire sipped her glass of water. Jamie had popped out with Murtagh to a wholesalers to restock and she’d been given some time by herself. She’d started by re-reading some of the introduction books she’d be studying come September but as time passed and the clock on the mantle grew louder, she’d lost her ability to concentrate. Right next to the clock sat a couple of photographs - one was of Jamie with his mum, standing next to the university. Murtagh and Brian had joined them on the trip just before Jamie started his course. The other was a grainy photo. It had obviously been taken with an early camera and the kids in the picture looked young and carefree.

“That’s Willie...on the far right.” Leaning against the open door, Jamie smiled shyly as Claire turned to look at him. “Then Jenny. Then me. Rabbie was too young to be out alone wi’ us, he stayed with mam mostly. It was taken just before he got sick on da’s first camera. He loved it, he’d spend hours following us around just to catch us doing something fun. The walls of his office were covered in them.”

“You all look so happy.”

“We were. Just weeks later, Willie was diagnosed and it all got a wee bit more difficult. I think that was the last time we were carefree together.”

“What were you doing?”

The photo had them all bent over laughing. They were damp, fresh droplets of water running across their exposed skin, their clothes clinging to their skin as they stood with their arms around one another.

“Have ye ever heard of loch swimming?” Walking over to her, Jamie wrapped his arms around Claire’s waist and brought her against his chest.

Claire shook her head, tilting her chin upwards as she skimmed her lips against his. “No, but I can guess what it is from the name.”

“Aye, I’m sure ye can. Well, we used to do it all the time during the summer months. We didna get too many sunny days, but we got enough that we’d do it at least twice a year. This year, though, we’d been really busy all of July. So much so that it was the first warm day we got by ourselves. Jenny and Willie ganged up on me. We’d actually gone out for a picnic. Mam had made us this wonderful box full of food and we’d played and joked around. It was after we’d eaten all of the cake that Jenny grabbed me, she had my arms in a bind when Willie took me by the ankles. They hurled me in, I can still remember hearing the splash as my head went under.”

“They’re wet in the picture too, did you exact your revenge?”

“No’ exactly,” Jamie chuckled, “they came in after me. I went under, held my breath as long as I could and floundered around so that they’d think I was drowning. That made them panic.”

“How very canny of you. What did they say when they finally got you back on shore and discovered your trick?”

“Why, they threw me back in o’ course.”

Snuggled against one another, Jamie settled on Claire’s heartbeat as the memories of his early childhood came flooding back to him. There had been many summers like that, wrapped in sun and freedom - Jenny, Willie and him had roamed across Lallybroch lands causing mischief and he wondered if his own child would get the same varied upbringing.

“It sounds like a lot of fun.”

“Ach, it was. Ye didna have the same?”

Pulling away a little, Claire stepped back and took Jamie by the hands. “No. Not to say that it wasn’t interesting in its own way, but I didn’t have any siblings. It was just me and my parents for the most part - until they died, of course.” She took a large breath, the hurt flowing through her at the mere memory of losing them.

“When yer ready, Claire, I’m here for you.”

“Do you remember when we spoke about my A Levels before?”

“Ye said you were all prepared for university, wi’ yer grades and yer subjects.”

“I was. Everything was sorted,  I had a place at uni in London. It was only three weeks until I was due to start when it happened.”

Letting her speak, Jamie held her close. He could feel the tense set of her shoulders as she tried to retell her story.

“I was lucky, they said, to have been found when I was. We were in the car on the way home from an event my uncle Lamb had hosted somewhere in mid-Wales. It was late and the rain had been coming thick and fast but the roads were mostly empty. They told me later that it was a lorry that jackknifed on a country road close to our house smashing the front of the car entirely.” She took a deep breath, the sobs reverberating through her chest as she tried to hold back the tears - even now it was painful to talk about. “My parents were killed instantly. I should be grateful, I suppose, that they didn’t suffer.”

“And what about you?”

“Mild concussion. I was knocked unconscious in the collision. A few broken ribs from the seatbelt and a fractured collarbone.”

“What brought the Randall’s into yet life?” He asked, curious as to how she’d ended up married only a few years later when she still (clearly) wasn’t over the grief of losing her parents even now.

“Frank’s father was the chief of medicine at the hospital I was taken to. Him and my father were really good friends and, although I had never met Frank before then, he came everyday to make sure I wasn’t alone. He was sweet - at first - looking out for me, getting me through those first lonely months. I leaned on him like a crutch and it wasn’t long before he’d indoctrinated me into his family. It spiralled from there and before I knew it we were married and I had all of these obligations that I’d never had before. And the rest, as they say, is history.”

“Did ye ever grieve for yer parents?” He asked, his eyebrows drawing together as he felt her tense up. Though she had motored through her story, Jamie sensed that she was leaving out some minor details - nowhere had she mentioned anything of her own healing process and it worried him.

“I was numb for a long time. I didn’t think about it, really.”

“Which is why ye didna talk about it wi’ me…”

“Yes. After you told me about William, I knew that I’d have to open up about my past too.”

“Have ye ever spoken about it before...to anyone?”

“No.”

He had a feeling that was the case. No matter how caring Frank had been at the beginning of their relationship, he had allowed her to clam up about the one cataclysmic life event that had almost taken her life. Instead of coaxing the pain from her, she had been lulled into burying any memories of the accident deep down - meaning she had never mourned the loss of her parents.

Running his fingers along the top of her chest he kissed the tip of her nose before leaning his forehead against hers. Tracing a line along her shoulder, down her left arm he took her hand in his. Gently, his finger wrapped around the gold band that still sat there, he removed her wedding ring - his eyes on hers to make sure she was alright with his actions.

“Dinna bury yer feelings, Claire,” he whispered, “I ken how hard it is to lose someone close, but ye need to talk about it. I’m always here...talk to me, when yer ready.”

“What are you doing?” She asked, taking his offer on board whilst she glanced at her now ringless finger.

“Making ye a promise.” He returned, fumbling in his pocket before pulling out a small, black velvet box.

Taking it by the lid, he clicked it open against his leg so that he didn’t need to take his hand off hers. “This is my grandma’s ring, aye?” He said showing her the beautiful triple gemmed ring that sat snuggly in the box. “Da gave it to mam after they marrit - it’s an eternity ring. When I told her about ye, she gave it to me and said I’d know when the time was right.”

Claire gasped in a stunted breath, her eyes welling with unshed tears as her hands shook.

“I ken ye arena divorced just yet, but I know it’ll happen - whether it’s sooner or later - then I want to make ye mine, Claire, if ye’ll have me.”

The ring slipped easily onto her finger, the sterling silver blue topaz, emerald and turquoise geometric band fitting perfectly. Jamie let his hand hover over hers for a moment longer, holding it so that they could both see the commitment that they had just made to one another as the gems reflected in her eyes.

“It’s beautiful, Jamie...I can’t believe…”

“I’m yours, Claire, and I have been since the moment ye walked into my life. Whatever happens next, we will always have one another, aye? Through huge loss, pain and heartache we managed to find one another and I’m willing to fight for ye until there’s no more air left in my lungs. I love ye, truly.”

“Me too, Jamie, so much…” she dragged in another breath before moulding her lips to his. Letting the tears roll freely down her cheeks, she kissed him hard, her arms wrapping around his waist and bringing him so close to her that she could feel every ruffle in the fabric of his top. Crushing her hands into the back of his shirt, she let the metal of the new ring forge a solid dent in her flesh as their tongues met. She arched her back as the relief coursed through her whole body.

A Guide to Buy the Right Chocolate Boxes Online

It is not easy to make the right decision when you buy chocolate boxes online. You must consider the following factors like the design, style, and size of the boxes, what are the capacity of a box to hold chocolates and the quality of the material used to make the chocolate boxes.

The Kickback

Everyone loves a Christmas Bonus. Who doesn’t. In my case, it wasn’t so much of a bonus, but as I call it... my yearly kickback. I’ll explain. Working for a wholesaler, as one does, has its few perks. You never run out of toilet paper... you buy the biggest box of laundry detergent on the market and in our household pantry (ok.... our coat room) there is a six month supply of canned beans. All these purchases add up when I shop in-house. I pay up front and at the end of the year I get my kickback. It sounds like the mafia but I can assure you it’s not. I also don’t know how the yearly total is calculated. Is it tax? Does it come from the amount spent? In mafia turns, I don’t know where the money comes from, I just accept it and nod. Turn a blind eye. The only catch is is that the kickback money has to be spent in the company store. Ok... not great, and as there are no 10 foot ladders with a pedestal, there is however an array of alcohol to choose from. If you want that rare Armenian wine, so be it. And if you pen a cocktail blog like mine, you are always looking for the next best drink. So I take this kickback money, (I don’t share the complete amount with my wife) and purchase a little alcoholic Christmas gift for myself. Something different, unusual. More top shelf than bargain bin. A step up from duty-free. And since this never ending quest for the perfect Manhattan continues yearly I decided on Bulleit Rye as my go to seasonal purchase. I always knew that rye whiskey was supposed to be used for Manhattans but always got a little lazy and went with the ever popular cousin bourbon. This summer I purchased some Canadian Club but instead of my favourite Angostura bitters, I was substituting Fee Brothers Orange Bitters. While the drink was ok (well a little better than ok), it didn't really give me the overall effect. I felt slighted. So there I am, Christmas morning... 12:02, ‘fancy tumbler’ out, I made the best Manhattan I have had since the Black Cherry one I made 8 years ago. I mixed is seperatley and poured it into my holiday glass which only comes out 3 times a year. The look was divine. The smell was unreal. It was competing with the turkey and the ham cooking nearby in the oven. The kids were pre-occupied with Pokemon to care that their father was sniffing and staring no different than the dog. I got into my chair, ok the reading chair, and enjoyed the next 45 minutes, watching the fire and thanking god for Lego. And not only Lego but Lego that the kids can do on their own. Santa was also kind enough to deliver an already built bicycle. I sipped, smelled and enjoyed a great manhattan; well worth the wait and the money spent. After 45 minutes, I was about the make another but kid 3 wanted to show his creation which left kid 2 and 1 jealous so had to give them Dad admiring time. I moved the empty tumbler to the window cill and after 15 minutes of ‘ooohing’ and ‘aaahhhing’ knew my time was short and better help serve the Christmas dinner. I poured two glasses of wine and made my way over to mash the potatoes. Kids scattered when a job had to get done, so I set the table, called the kids, ate our blessed dinner and finished up with another Manhattan somewhere between dinner and dessert. Or better yet heaven and heaven. Life is good. Just realised I should have never have mentioned the part of the blog about the kickback. My wife will read it.

Bulleit Rye Manhattan 2 parts Bulleit Rye 1 part Sweet Vermouth 3 dashes Aromatic Bitters 1 cherry (not in season, so couldn’t get it)

How to Make: 1. Stir and strain into a coupe cocktail glass. (i used my fancy tumbler) 2. Garnish with a cherry. (see above)

nobody owns time - lee jihoon

Pairing: Lee Jihoon/Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 3.1k

Synopsis: Jihoon doesn’t like how friendly you and your new co-worker act. 

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 

― i’m back! and i wanted to add another part continuing from “hardhearted” PLEASE read pt 1. it’ll make a bit more sense haha :) i hope you like this anyways & i encourage for you to request!! im running out of ideas keke. 

i just reread this realized Chan might be mistaken for Lee Chan aka Dino... I’m so sorry for the misunderstand lol i was actually visualizing Chan from A.C.E.. but its ok! 

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since you took Jihoon’s offer on staying in the extra room in his apartment. You both never really saw each other despite the fact you both lived together. He was too busy working on god knows what at some studio and you were too busy looking for a job. You couldn’t help but feel terrible for mooching off of him which led you to want to move out as soon as possible.

Luckily enough, you had found yourself a part time job the other day at a nearby wholesale cooperation. It had good pay and maybe if you worked overtime once in awhile, you would be able to move out of Jihoon’s place by the end of next month.

You spent the day mopping floors, transporting boxes across the store, and restocking the shelves. You looked kind of ridiculous; your small self carrying around stacks of large empty boxes and pushing carts of packaged toilet paper and water. It was also very tiring.

So, when one of your coworkers saw you struggling he couldn’t help but let out a small laugh before walking over to you.

“I almost didn’t see you behind there,” he mused, peering at you behind the stack of boxes you were holding, “You need help?” 

He carefully took a few of the boxes from your hands, your fingers brushing and awkward smiles exchanged.

“Just this way,” You called out, leading him down a few aisles and into the front where the cashier stands where. You motioned him to place them down under the conveyor belts so the scanners can use them to pack purchases.

You set down the boxes and sighed in exhaustion, dusting yourself off before finally taking a look at the kind worker.

He had black hair that swooped over his eyes and a friendly, warm smile. He was also tall compared to you, but not as tall as Soonyoung or Mingyu- that’s for sure.

A weak smile played on your lips, “Thank you...Lee Chan?” You say as your eyes sedulously scanned his name tag

Chan nodded, his wide grin showing off his pearly whites, “And you’re (L/N) (Y/N). I’ve heard talk about you in the break room.”

“Really?” Your eyebrows furrowed, “What kind of talk?”

“Don’t worry, all good talk,” He said, his face flushed a light red and you couldn’t tell if it was from exhaustion or from embarrassment, “About how you’re cute and stuff- you know?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully, “Boys really have way too much time on their hands,” you joke, nudging his shoulder, “When do you get off?” 

“The supervisor left a bit ago, so we can leave now.”

“Okay!” You clapped and the both of you began to walk in the direction to the front entrance.

“You must be hungry after carrying those boxes around,” Chan hummed, pushing his hands inside his pockets. It was freezing cold the second you both stepped outside.

“Yeah, I had to skip lunch because I had to work overtime, “ You sighed.

He frowned, but it quickly bloomed into a Cheshire cat like smile, “Hey, do you want to eat at this noodle place that not to far from here? I’ll treat you for getting a new job.”

“Really!” You grinned, “Dumplings too?”

“Two plates! I just got paid this afternoon,” He beamed.

Your grin suddenly faltered as you looked out in the night sky. The sun had already set so it was about 7 o’clock. You knitted your brows, a small ‘tsk’ falling off your tongue, “I would, but I might miss the bus home.”

Chan pouted, grabbing your arm, “Please-e-e,” He said, whining out the last syllable, “Just an hour of your time-”

“Nobody owns time,” A voice scoffed causing you and Chan to look up; well, you looked slightly upwards and Chan looked down.

“Jihoon? What are you doing here?”

The sound of the door slamming shut caused Jihoon to jolt awake. He was at the studio, working on Seventeen’s title song and he must of fallen asleep.

His eyes frantically jumped around the room, finally meeting with an oh-too-familiar 10:10 shaped eyes that belonged to the one and only Kwon Soonyoung.

“Sorry! I didn’t know the door shuts itself,” He sibilated, walking carefully towards the sleepy producer.

Jihoon groaned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, “What are you doing here? I’m working-”

Soonyoung laughed, wiping the drool off the shorter boy’s bottom lip, “More like dreaming about (Y/N).”

Jihoon rolled his eyes, pushing the younger boy away, “Shut up. How did you know I was here?”

Soonyoung sat on the beanbag chair that was in the corner of the studio. His legs kicked up onto Jihoon’s desk, smacking away on a piece of gum as he shrugged, “Your apartment was empty. Where else would you go?”

“Empty? What do you mean empty-”

The younger boy whinged, burying his head into the palms of his hands, “What’s with all these questions?”

A kick flew to Soonyoung’s ankle causing him to cry out in pain, “Ow, ow, ow!” He whined, rubbing his ankle vigorously.

“Don’t put your feet on my desk,” Jihoon grumbled, sending the other boy a dirty look.

“Gosh, okay! What did you ask again?” Soonyoung huffed, sitting up properly in the beanbag.

“Where’s (Y/N)?”

“She got a part time job! Didn’t you know?”

Jihoon furrowed his eyebrows, “Part time job? What do you mean part-”

The younger boys sharp glared caused the older boy to sheepishly smile and backtrack, “So...Where is she working?”

And thats how Jihoon ended in front of the Wholesales at around nine o’clock at night. It was windy and dark and he couldn’t help wonder why on earth is her boss making her work so late at night. Who knows what could happen while she makes her way home?

She didn’t even have a car.

Jihoon sighed, running a hand through his hair. 

How was this girl even getting places? Bus? Subway? 

“Please don’t tell me she’s been walking home,” he grumbled to himself.

He suddenly felt bad. He had been sort of distant towards (Y/N) since he was so busy. He never really was home because he spent most nights working at the studio but he did come home around dawn to wash up and change. 

Jihoon remembered the first morning, there were two cups of coffee and two plates of breakfast at the dining table.

And as much as he wanted to sit down, Jihoon had no time for breakfast. 

So, the next day, she was there with one cup of coffee, one plate of breakfast, one thermos of coffee and one packed breakfast.

Jihoon swore right then that he was in love with her.

Jihoon cringed, smacking his own head, Love? What the hell was he talking about? 

He also cursed at himself for standing outside in the freezing cold with no jacket. Why was he here again? 

The sound of laughter and footsteps nearing the front entrance caused him to look up.

He smiled, Oh right, (Y/N).

There you were, a sweet and bright smile on your lips. The smile Jihoon missed seeing.

Except you weren’t smiling at him. Instead, you were smiling at some guy- your co-worker(?) and you seemed excited for some reason.

Jihoon’s ears perked up as he made his way closer to the two of you.

“Dumplings too?” You exclaimed.

“Two plates! I just got paid this afternoon,” The taller boy boasted.

And suddenly Jihoon felt his blood boil despite the freezing cold weather. 

A date? She wouldn’t.

A sigh flew past your lips, “I would, but I might miss the bus home,” you said in a disappointed tone.

The bus, Jihoon mused, pursing his lips, I knew it.

Please-e-e! Let me just have thirty minutes of your time-”

Jihoon rolled his eyes, “Nobody owns time,” he ridiculed.

The two of them turned to look at Jihoon who suddenly felt subconscious of his height. He couldn’t help but realize how tall the other guy was. Jihoon could feel his ears turn pink but he didn’t dare to back down.

“Jihoon? What are you doing here?” You questioned, your head slightly tilting to the right.

“What do you mean? I’m here to see you,” He tsked, stepping closer to the two.

You couldn’t help but blush, feeling flustered as you turned to look at your co-worker, “I-uh...”

“I’m Chan! Nice to meet you.” He bowed, in hopes for this sudden tension to disappear.

But that only caused Jihoon to cringe at the sight of the taller boy bowing so low. He rose his hand, signalling Chan to knock it off, “You’re going to end up breaking your back-”

“Jihoon!” You hissed, feeling embarrassed from his aloof behavior.

You sheepishly turned to face Chan, rubbing the back of your neck as you winced, “I’m sorry, but since my friend showed up, let’s go eat next time, yeah?”

“Oh! Well, he can join us!”

You grinned, clapping your hands in an excited manner. You turned towards Jihoon, in hopes that he’d quit acting so stiff

And he pursed his lips, clicking his tongue as he stammered, “I-um. I’m allergic to noodles.”

You felt your jaw drop slightly as you stared at him in stupefy. 

What on earth is he talking about?

Thankfully for your starving self, Chan was not going to back down. “You can eat something else! They have really good meat dishes too-”’

“Wow... really? That’s amazing,” Jihoon said with a hint of sarcasm that only you caught, “I’m actually allergic to a lot so...” 

Jihoon trailed off into silence, blinking as you waved your hands at him, “What are you doing!” you mouthed.

“Who the hell is he?” he mouthed back, nodding over to Chan.

You squinted your eyes, “Go home!”

“Let’s get out of here! Please!” 

You harshly glared at your roommate, motioning for him to leave. 

Jihoon’s shoulders slumped in defeat and he turned around, starting to walk towards his car but then quickly spinning back around on the balls of his feet, clapping his hands together, “Please-please-please-please-”

Your eyes widened, and you couldn’t help but let the shock contort your features, “Jihoon, I swear to g-”

“Please-please-please-please-please-”

He was so dead.

Quickly clearing your throat, a pitiful smile formed on your lips as you turned to face Chan who stood completely oblivious to what was going on between you and the older male.

“Um, I should probably go. My friend’s kind of... sick.” 

Chan pursed his lips, understandably nodding, “Ah- I’ll head out first then. See you tomorrow.”

“We can eat noodles then!” You said in an apologetic tone.

He bobbed his head eagerly before waving goodbye to you and stifling a nod towards Jihoon who was sending daggers to the taller boy.

“Let’s go,” He mumbled, and walked away towards his car and you swore you never been so dumbfounded in your entire life.

The car ride home was silent and remained that way until the apartment door shut behind you both.

“Allergic to noodles,” You mocked with a dry laugh, “Didn’t we just have black bean paste noodles last night?”

Jihoon sighed, unresponsive as he sat down on the loveseat. You repeated his actions, taking his hand in yours; something that felt natural now. 

Despite rarely seeing him, when you did, you couldn’t help but hold his hand whilst talking and catching up with him; yearning for skinship.

“Who was that guy? Is he a full-time employee?” Jihoon asked, a hint of annoyance dripping in his tone.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Mm, I don’t know. I just met him, but he’s really nice.”

He nodded, his eyes not meeting yours but instead, staring at the spot behind you.

“Mhm, okay,”Jihoon said, pressing his lips together, still not meeting your gaze.

“Jihoon, is there something wrong?”

“No.”

“Liar,” you mused.

His sullen pout and odd attitude gave it away. You knew something was up the second you saw Jihoon at your work. How’d he even know where you were?

You shook your head; it didn’t matter right now.

“(Y/N),” Jihoon murmured causing you to look back up at the brunette.

He paused longer than expected and you sat waiting on the edge of your seat, having no clue what he was about to say.

But then he winces, shaking his head whilst rubbing the back of his neck, as if he was trying to figure out what to say.

And suddenly you noticed how red he was getting, the sight of this was too familiar to you. Flashbacks of the night on the staircase replay in your head when he first confessed his feeling.

Is he confessing something?

“I’m sorry that I’ve been so busy lately but just know I’m never busy to spend time with you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve been busy too, you know?” You forced a smile, squeezing his hand, “I’ve been working.”

“Stop talking to that Chan-kid,” Jihoon pursed his lips, “He bothers me.”

You sat there with a pokerface, your brain’s gears slowly churning; trying to connect why on earth would Jihoon have a problem with Chan. He barely met the guy. How can he judge someone so quickly the moment he saw him standing with-

“Are you... jealous?”

Jihoon’s previous sulky countenance immediately transformed into a shocked, maybe even offended expression causing you to stiff a laugh. 

“I wasn’t jealous! I was.. bothered,” He uttered.

Your serious exterior finally cracked and a goofy smile appeared past your lips, “I never thought you were one to get jealous,” You chuckled.

Jihoon scrunched up his nose, his ears burning red and his hand that was attached to yours had started to turn clammy.

“I can’t help it!” He suddenly blurted out, “He was grabbing your arm and you both seemed so cheerful- and the fact that you both almost went out to eat!”

Jihoon shook his head, frustrated, “I just don’t like the idea of you out eating noodles with another guy so late at night.”

You frowned as confusion washed over you, “I don't understand how you’re jealous over that when me cuddling with Soonyoung never seemed to bother you.”

“Y-you what?” Jihoon stammered, disbelief written all over his face.

You bit you laugh in attempt to hide your smile, “I’m joking,” you huffed, nudging his shoulder.

But Jihoon didn’t crack a smile. His head dropped down, a blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Hey..” you murmur, “Don’t you remember?”

Jihoon’s breath hitched in the back of his throat as he lifted his head. Feeling his heartbeat pounded in his ears, his eyes met yours.

“I like you,” you say, looking down at your intertwined fingers, “And I understand why you’re jealous, but you don’t have to be. I also understand that you can’t control the way you feel. I’m not telling you to. Just know that I trust you, and you can trust me too.”

Jihoon’s felt the pace of his heart slow down as every word slipped passed your lips. A small and thankful smile flashed on his face as he leaned into you, feeling as if all the stress and tension in his shoulders had vanished.

You wrapped your arms around him, taking in every second of the feeling of his body pressed into yours and inhaling the smell of his shampoo.

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” he mumbled into your shoulder.

Your eyes widened as Jihoon pulled back slightly; his sweet, chocolate brown orbs melting into yours, “I was planning on asking you in a better way this weekend, but I’m impatient now.”

You giggled, tilting your head to the right as you nodded eagerly causing a warm smile to form on Jihoon’s face.

You watched as his orbs drifted downwards to your lips and your heart fluttered inside your chest when you realized what he was about to do.

His eyes flickered back to yours, as if he was asking “Is this okay?”

But instead of showing him a sign of approval, your eyes flutter shut as you leaned in, brushing your lips against his. 

Kissing was sort of new to you and Jihoon. You both had only shared a few pecks so you didn’t expect it when Jihoon didn’t waste time kissing back. 

It messy at first, clumsy even. Both of you were unsure but, once your timing had synced, it was slow, soft, and comforting in ways that words could never be. His lips were balmy and minty, and each kiss left your lips tingling and wanting more.

Your hand rested below his ear, your thumb caressing his cheek as both of your breaths mingled.  

Jihoon’s hand drifted to your hip, settling there as he pulled you closer until you were practically straddling his lap. You could feel Jihoon’s fingers playing with the tips of your hair before running up and down your spine, sending shivers down your back.

And as much as you wanted for this moment to never end, you both pulled away, breathless. 

Jihoon stared at you in awe; your swollen lips and red face caused Jihoon’s heartbeat to quicken. His lips turned upwards into a smug smile, feeling pleased at the fact that he was the one who made you this way; breathless and eyes filled with endearment. 

And after a moment of silence, just gazing into each others eyes, you cleared your throat causing Jihoon to blink.

“Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?” you murmured, raking your fingers through the short hair at his neck.

Jihoon rose his eyebrow in surprise, “I think you need to be more clear with what you mean.”

Your eyes widened, smacking his arm playfully, “T-that’s not what I meant!” you stuttered.

He chuckled, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear as he threw a playful wink, “Sure it wasn’t.”

“Jihoon!”

-

not edited, but... it’s one am so i think it’s ok hehe :)

you can request here xx

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New Post has been published on https://reesebird.com/2019/02/24/14-awesome-summer-fair-fund-raising-ideas/

14 Awesome Summer Fair Fund Raising Ideas

14 Awesome Summer Fair Fund Raising Ideas

How to raise the most amount of money for your PTA with the minimum outlay? Schools need increasing amounts of money these days to pay for equipment and outings so it is very important to come up ever more imaginative ways of engaging children and parents to raise funds.

I myself have just joined a PTA at my son's school and working in the toy industry should come in handy as I already have tons of great ideas. Hopefully this means that our PTA will be able to have a record breaking year!

Firstly here are some of the well known, traditional methods of fund raising at summer fairs –

Face Painting

Children of all ages (and some adults too!) Love to have their faces painted. There are lots of different designs to choose from depending on your skill level but the basic tiger and butterfly will normally suffice. Wholesale Face paintings are so cheap these days that if you charge 50p or £ 1 you are sure to make a good profit. Just make sure you buy a good quality face paint from a reputable importer. The packaging should carry CE mark, full ingredients list and the name and address of the import company. If the pack you find does not carry all three of these then DO NOT BUY. The last thing you want is a pack of irate mums after you because their kids faces have had allergic reactions!

Tattoos

Wholesale temporary tattoos are so cheap (around 2-3p) that again this can be a huge money spinner. Charge 20p per tattoos and you will make 10x your original investment. Again just make sure you buy from a reputable wholesale toy supplier.

Crockery Smashing

I have been a few summer fairs now that have had a booth where you can throw balls at old crockery and without fail they are always the busiest stall at the fair. There is something extremely satisfying about the breaking sound of china! My husband even spent a small fortune there. Again it does not have to be expensive. Scour charity shops for boxes of old plates, cups and bowls and set them up in a booth with shelves and have a smashing time! (Groan!)

Teddy Raffle

Ask parents to donate old cuddly toys which you can raffle off for £ 1 each.

Popcorn & Candy Floss

Machines can be rented relatively these days and who does not love popcorn and candy floss? The margins for both these snacks can be very healthy so definitely a must for your sweet toothed guests.

Tombola

Easy to run and taking up minimal space are ideal reasons to have a tombola, plus it is a traditional must. No summer fair is complete without one! You can print tickets out quite easily from the internet and again ask parents for small pledges to give as prizes. Failing that why not fill old jam jars with penny sweets to make fun prizes that children will love.

Count The Candy

Fill a big jar full of smarties or other small sweets and charge people 50p to guess how many are in there. The winner at the end of the fair with the closest guess wins the lot.

Cricket & Football

This is a great one for the Dads as their will to win and competitive spirit will kick in. Buy some good but cheap bottles of win from the supermarket and either a football goal or cricket set (quite cheap from places like Argos) and charge Dads £ 1 – £ 2 to see if they can get 3 goals in 3 balls or 3 wickets from 3 bowls. Trust me, offer a Dad wine and a cricket ball and you will be onto a winner.

Cake Stall

A summer fair would not be complete with a good array of homemade cakes. Ask parents to bake a small cake for you to sell or why not turn it into a competition and have your own mini bake off?

So there are some of the more traditional ideas for summer fund raising but if you really want to make your event stand out then it is all about the quirky fun factor. Parents and children alike will be enthralled by some of the weirder events out there and the odor the better. So here are a few ideas.

Worm Charming

Mark the ground into 2 meter squares and participants pay a pound for a pitch, they then have 5 minutes to charm as many worms out of the ground as possible. No digging allowed allowed just singing and jumping up and down.

Snail, Piglet & Ferret Racing

You will probably need to contact specialist companies for this as you will need to hire the animals and equipment. There are also strict rules in place to make sure no harm comes to the animals. They can both be great games to add to your event as we all love a bit of gambling. A quick internet search should provide all the information you need.

Panning For Gold

All you really need for this is a large trough of water and half a dozen panning for gold kits which can be purchased for around £ 2 each from wholesale toy suppliers. Charge the kids £ 1 to have 5 minutes sifting and panning through the dirt to see if they can hit the mother load! Have some little paper bags or plastic jars handy for them to put their treasure in when they are finished.

Water Pistols Shooting Gallery

Line up empty plastic bottles and food pots and if the children can knock over 3 bottles or more with a large water pistols then they win a prize. Minimal outlay and can really bring in the pennies.

Pirate Treasure hunt

Give each child a pirate eye patch and treasure map that leads them to various clues hidden around the event. If they find them all and work out the treasures location then they win a prize. Great fun that can keep them entertained for 20 minutes or more.

Chapter 6: Chubby, impulsive, a mess

I only know that my mother was thin once because of the photo album she kept in her cedar chest. After I was born, she was never thin again, which I’m sure endeared me to her not at all. To be fair, none of the women on her side of the family, myself included, where ever what you would call thin for any appreciable amount of time; we were pear-shaped, with wide, generous asses, and no tits to speak of whatsoever. I could pick one of my own out of a lineup without ever seeing anything above the neck.

The cedar chest in question was another target of my early-morning raids, and even more so later on when my parents began to leave me home alone for short periods of time, when I was about twelve. We had a lot of photo albums lying around, but the one in the cedar chest was special: it contained photos of my mother and of her life before me, or my father, or any of us. Photos of my mother as I imagined, she was truly meant to be, before I came and fucked it all up.

The album was filled with snapshots of my mother, my mother’s old friends, and boys – boys she either fucked or did not fuck, I had no idea; their limbs were long and brown with exposure to the sun, slung carelessly over the sides of docks and lawn chairs and the tailgates of trucks. They were all so quintessentially 70s, everyone with long, straggly hair, clutching cans of old-timey beer with pull-tops, gathered around beat-up looking coolers, gathered around campsites. In the photo in question, my mother is sitting on a dock in a yellow bikini. She is smiling. She is tiny and lithe and radiant.

I was not tiny or lithe or radiant. I was going through puberty, and everything was hell. I don’t mind one bit telling you that I was not a pretty child; and as soon as I started going through puberty – early, of course, so fifth grade was extra fun – I took a turn for the worse in the looks department.

As the tales foretold in the bodies of my female relatives came to pass, hips and ass crept up on me like rotund panthers, causing tables and desks and decorative vases to seemingly fling themselves from my sides as I passed, as my sense of where my body ended and my surroundings began was thrown into turmoil.

In an ironic attempt to draw attention away from my changing body, I started to “experiment” with fashion – meaning I’d embarrass myself and everyone else around me by showing up to school in a denim miniskirt and cowboy boots. I decided that the stylish, quirky Claudia Kishi from The Babysitters Club was my spirit animal, but really, the only thing Claudia and I had in common was a penchant for junk food, and I didn’t have the fictionally blessed metabolism Claudia did.

My mother, who by this point had been on Weight Watchers roughly since it was invented, was horrified by this turn of events. I can’t imagine that it’s not just a little bit harder to love a child that’s ugly, even if they are sweet and good, neither of which I was.

I was promptly placed on a diet by my mother. This lasted roughly five minutes, until I, wracked by paroxysms of hunger, asked if I could have just one slice of Kraft Processed Cheese Food Product, to which my mother capitulated with a heavy and burdened sigh. And that was the last I ever heard of a diet, and together we both became pillars of the body positive community, and learned to love our bodies for what they could do instead of how well they conformed to the standards set by the male-dominated media circus.

Ha, ha.

My father had a bad habit of pointing out plus size women we saw in public – from the car, in the mall - and remarking to my mother, She’s really let herself go, as if this woman, this innocent stranger we didn’t know, had once been slim and beautiful, but had allowed herself to fall to the ravages of beauty-nonconformity by a simple lapse in vigilance. As if Fat had been lying in wait for her around the corner, jumped out, and she had been unwilling to fend it off; a personal failing, completely detached from any excuse like genetics or glandular issues or just being fucking happy with yourself. I would picture the women he pointed out, the supposed former versions of themselves that my father referred to, holding a red balloon against the cobalt sky, and then just letting go. The balloon drifts gently toward the clouds, and now they are fat.

So it certainly wasn’t for lack of effort on the part of my parents that I started to get fat, and by “fat”, I mean I gained maybe 10 pounds over the course of puberty. My father helpfully called out the calorie content of anything I removed from the fridge, however mundane. I recall removing a carton of milk from the fridge – Do you know how fattening that is? Goddammit, Dad, do you want me to get osteoporosis?

As a result, a culture of shame started to form around the food in our house. This is not to say that my parents were particularly healthy eaters – while they certainly managed to put food on the table, neither of them were great cooks, and the majority of what we ate came from a can or a packet that bore the words “INSTA-“ or “-HELPER”. It was typical of the times.

What they really loved, however, like most of North America, was sugar. Sugar, and Costco. Biweekly would come home these wholesale boxes stacked with dozens of Twix, Skor bars, Mr. Big. My mother would save up her Weight Watchers points and indulge. My father, the skinny prick, would dig in with impunity.

What they didn’t love was sharing the horde with their fat little daughter, who ate too much, who was letting herself go. At the tender age of twelve, they saw that my grip on the Balloon Of Thinness was tenuous at best, so the food was first moved to the highest shelves in the cupboards (as if that would stop me), then locked away in their bedroom.

And that was the end of my relationship with sweets, because as we’ve already seen, I had a great deal of respect for my parents’ privacy, and I become gloriously thin as a result. My parents proceeded to love me forever.

Bullshit. My parents went bowling every Friday night, and I lived for those nights. As soon as I heard the roar of that Dodge engine fade to nothing, I was all up in that shit. Yoghurt, muffins, cookies, Twix – whatever was there, whatever was within reach, however much I wanted, because no one was watching, and no one was judging. And no one was going to say a damn thing.

If I eat two yogurts, five Oreos and a Twix bar in the forest and no one is around to bitch about it… then what? I win? If I’d won, the prize was feeling like a fat piece of shit. It didn’t take me long to realize that my binges – for that’s what they were – were as uncomfortable for me as they were for my parents. So, one Friday, lying in a pool of shame and candy wrappers, I decided to take drastic action.

As a child I’d pored over descriptions of anorexia and bulimia nervosa in our family medical guide, later supplementing my knowledge with wholesome anorexia memoirs checked out from the elementary school library. I marvelled at the willpower, the determination, the sheer lack of need that the girls in the books portrayed. They seemed so pure, so single-minded, so vigilant and focussed. They were on the ball; they would never let themselves go. Their parents were a perfect scribble of concern over their fragile daughters. They were the complete opposite of everything I was – chubby, impulsive, a mess. That could never be me. Could it?

I padded to our only bathroom, keeping my footsteps soft as though someone were around to hear them. I shut the door and listened for the approach of an engine, the muffled slam of a car door.

I practiced what I’d learned from the books, leaning over the gaping maw of the toilet, drooling and gagging and praying as I feverishly crammed my fingers down my throat, until they found what they were looking for.

The vomit came in stuttering waves. It wasn’t like when I was sick as a child, where the sick would propel itself from my body and arc into the waste bin set beside my bed, completely unaided, look ma, no hands. This took fucking dedication. My stomach muscles ached from the effort; I wondered idly if you could get abs this way.

Once the waves stopped coming, I stood up and wiped my face at the sink, my legs still. In the mirror, my face was slick and blotchy. But I felt amazing. I was purified, emptied, cleansed of my sins.

At twelve, I’d found an altar, and I was going to worship at it.

hey, can i take you up on that offer for question about bakery AUs? particularly, i'm curious what the daily schedule for a cafe with coffee & baked goods is, whatever you can tell me regarding like when the day starts and ends and what it's like when it's busy versus slow. my story is set in a cafe and while the making of things isn't going to be brought up too much, the day-to-day tasks to keep things running smoothly will be

OKAY SO. Sit back, this is gonna be a wild ride, and based a lot on where I work now, which sounds like where your story is set. Under the cut because this is LONG. 

4-something AM: Roll out of bed and swear a lot and curse the existance of bread. 6:30: In the doors. This is not open, mind, this is when the opening person has to be there. In order: Turn on all the lights, count the cash drawer, check in the cash drawer, start the drip coffee. From there, we’ve got a LOT of stuff to do. Put out breakfast goods. These would have been made overnight, some poor baker tucked in the back laminating dough. This, for us, is a tiny little baker with an itallian name, who I’m pretty sure is like, a biker lord or something. He drives a hog that’s bigger than I am, and I’m not small. Put out sweets: This is things that have to be served at room temp. Cookies, cupcakes, muffins, etc. These would come on a different tray than the breakfast goods. CHECKING SPECIAL ORDERS! THIS IS ESSENTIAL. If a special order for pickup for that day isn’t done, you’re going to have pissed customers and bad yelp reviews. 7:30 AM: Open the doors. This means that the signs are turned on, the seating area is clean, the bathrooms are clean, the counters are clean, the glass has been windexed, the stuff has been put in the cases, and orders have been logged. 7:31 Am: The zombies come crawling in for their caffiene fix. Sell them breakfast. They’re there for the coffee. The average latte is one minute to steam, the average cappuccino is a minute thirty to froth. That’s a minute of sales time. According to our corporate overlords anyhow. This is according to the machine in my work, which is pretty basic. We don’t do latte art or anything, and all our flavors are syrup we order through our wholesale supplier. 9:00 AM: By now you’ve had at least one pissed off customer accuse you of ruining their day. Throw salt at them when they leave. 10:30 AM: this is when your relief/backup arrives. You’re going to be there a few hours still but eh, now it’s the two of you. While all this is happening: If there’s nobody in the store, you’re folding boxes. You’re packaging cookies. You’re cutting ribon. There are about a bajillion things to do that involve taking something flat and making it three dimensional. You think working in a pizza joint is bad? Try folding seventeen different sizes of box. Also while this is happening: Cleaning. If you’re looking for something to do, find a rag and some windex. Once your break comes around: DISAPPEAR. A sitting target is a stationary target and someone will find something for you to do. HIDE. Find a roof or a back stoop or a bush. (I have this great little spot at the end of the building that’s like a storm culvert, but it’s the right height for sitting and I like taunting the sewer monsters.) Breaks over, back to work. For the afternoon: Your job is to keep up with orders, making boxes, making coffee, figuring out what people mean when they point to stuff and grunt. If you’re lucky another person will be there who is on front of house. While all this is happening by the wya, the actual bakery is in full motion in the back. At LEAST seven, maybe eight people in house. Closing duties are like opening duties in reverse. You log the days waste, make sure that stuff is put away properly, chuck out the stale unsold stuff, clean ALL THE THINGS. You’re setting up for the person who is opening. If it’s empty, refill it, if it’s dirty, wash it. Make sure that displays are neatly presented for the opening person so they don’t do it. If you’re lucky, a manager will be available to count the drawer and save you the headache. Please, for the love of pete, do not make these mistakes: The bakery owner is lounging around with nothing to do. Nope. The owner is probably screaming into a phone at someone who isn’t doing their job right. The managers are all uptight nitpickers: Some are. They tend to live in an office environ more than a sales/bakery/coffee environment. Have your women in heels. NO. 

Have your men able to have hours-long conversations with people. Also NO. Any actual dates happen off bakery grounds, unless it’s a lunch date. Your bakery wage slave has thirty minutes at best for lunch. There are going to be regulars. You notice them. If you’re lucky and work someplace a while, you’re going to make friends. Don’t date anyone you work with. Don’t date your manager/managers manager, and for the love of GOD. Remember that retail employees are people too, who are expected to be machines. Do all that and you’ll be good. Invest on GOOD boots. Not shoes. Steel toes, full ankle support, and the EXPENSIVE custom insoles. 

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Sujata Village is much as Siddhartha would seen it

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