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nathaliedeekes:

Using what very little arm strength she had, Nathalie tried to twist the wrench one last time and, like all her other attempts, was proven futile. Emitting a frustrated groan, Nat held back her urge to wind back her leg and kick the stupid tire a few times. Not only would that do absolutely nothing to help her cause, she’d also probably make herself look even stupider than she already did.

As the stranger Nathalie had flagged down approached, she let out an exasperated sigh. “It just won’t move and the people from the towing company said they wouldn’t be able to get here for awhile and I can’t just leave my car here and—” as she turned to address her could be rescuer, Nat had to tilt her head back to be able to look up and see the man’s, very handsome, face. “— someone certainly ate their vegetables growing up. Jesus, you’re like a skyscraper.”

The words flew from her mouth before Nathalie had a chance to stop them, eyes widening as she used both hands to cover her mouth. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud…” Ask the man for help and then mock him for his height, she thought silently to herself, good going Nat.

With mouth ajar, his chin inched forward, eyes casting down as he continued to peer at the issue. Though, his focus was broken with the rather humorous comment that seemed to tumble out of her.

Eyes shifting to focus on the woman now instead, a large grin quickly made its way across his lips. Brandon’s back arched slightly, not being able to suppress the fit of laughter that was now booming out from the depths of his gut. “Oh, no, no--” He reassured her, “Don’t apologize. I actually think that was one of the funniest slip-ups I’ve heard in a long, long time.”

Honestly, looking at it all, she wasn’t rude by saying it. Not even in the slightest. He was a tall dude, and she was on the short side. Nothing wrong with commenting on a dramatic difference.

“But, yes--” The expression on his face morphed into more of a playful nature, offering up a teasing wink as he added, “I made sure to always finish off my plate. No and’s, if’s, or but’s.” Mostly because Brandon learned at a young age that whatever was on his plate was what he was going to get-- nothing more, nothing less. He didn’t have room to be picky.

“So if veggies helped with my height, hopefully they assisted in giving me some sort of strength too. Let’s give this a try, shall we?” Without another thought, Brandon lowered himself to the ground -- a knee taking most of the weight -- hands reaching out to grab the wrench. He placed it onto the bolt, fingers taking their time to adjust their grip on the tool all before using all of the strength he could muster in trying to make the damn thing budge.

A grunted noise escaped him; brows furrowed and teeth gritted, “Jesus Christ--” He sighed out after a second, “Has this thing been welded shut? -- I feel like it’s going to be the next version of the sword in the stone.”

#nathaliedeekes

emma-martinelli:

Although her hospital door had been a revolving door for the likes of Rafe and Veronica, they did have to leave occasionally so that the doctors and nurses could do their job; there was a team of professionals, some sought from outside of the hospital, that had to help Emma in her recovery. It wasn’t just flushing out her system and advising her to attend an addict’s anonymous meeting every week; they had to make sure that she wasn’t going to repeat this when she stepped outside the doors and out of their care. And so, her morning after they forced food down her throat was spent with her therapist, mostly sitting in silence as he asked questions occasionally and Emma cried a lot. Typical.

There were a lot of things she had to process now, to fully go through and recognise her emotions for what they were, then learn how to overcome them and live with them. She also had to follow the strings down to the source of them – with most roads leading back to Nicky. The blame she placed on herself had festered into the mess that she was now; in addition to the pile of issues, she was now feeling even more guilt, this time about the stress that was so evident in all of her friends. It was clear in the way that Rafe and Veronica didn’t leave her side, by the way Philip slipped off the face of the Earth, the way Annie stayed behind an hour after her shift just to read with Emma, and so much more.

All she wanted to do was apologise, and her goal was to begin to journalling her feelings for each specific person she needed to talk to. Emma was perched at the edge of her bed, beginning a letter of sorts that she’d use as a script to Brandon, when the man on her mind walked into the door. Time seemed to slow down at the sight of him and the way Emma moved was much slower, muted, than usual. “N–no, it’s okay. Come in.” Voice weak, she gestured, calling him forward. In languid motion, she placed her hard cover book down, closing it slowly over the pen she had been using to write with; all the while, her gaze never left his, and she raised herself from the stiff mattress. Nerves were evident as she touched her face absently and tried to articulate what was in her mind. “I was actually just thinking about you– there’s just… there’s a lot I want to say and I th…”

Words trailed off and goal was diverted as her hues drank in the entirety of his frame and she finally noticed the basket. Then she asked, voice even smaller than before, so evidently broken and sick with guilt at the generosity her giving friends – although Brandon would never be classified as simply a friend – were showing. “Is that for me?”

His heart hurt. It was as simple as that.

Seeing Emma like this absolutely ripped his heart open, and it stung beyond belief.

As best as he could, Brandon would never be able to fully process this situation. He could hear her out, assume the possibilities, and try to force his mind to adapt to the situation; yet it would never actually click.

All he would continue to think about instead is her smile; the way the corner of her lips inched up, the pearly whites of her teeth, and the fact that her eyes would sparkle-- they would brighten up so much. And the sound of her laughter-- God, it was good.

When he thought of Emma-- that’s what he would see. No matter what. So yes, this reality was always going to be hard.

Though, with the seriousness of it all, Brandon was more hyper aware of everything; her body language, the way that her voice sounded, and the words that she spoke. He took it all in; not wanting to miss a single damn thing.

Because if this had gone badly-- he wouldn’t have gotten any more moments. And that probably would’ve been the most heartbreaking thing out of it all.

So he was going to be here, remain here; present in it all.

“Yes--” The tone of his voice brightened up as she questioned the gift, “Your favourites,” He continued on, forcing a large smile across his lips. He had to be bright. He had to be strong for her sake. “I thought these would peak your interest, so--” As he spoke, Brando made his way more-so into the room, setting the basket down on whatever flat surface was close by.

“-- Do you need anything else? Water? Juice? I can-- I can go grab a nurse, or I can just go and grab something really quick.”

#emmamartinelli

nathaliedeekes:

“Oh come on you stupid, son of a bitch,” Nat’s hands gripped the wrench tightly, her face twisted into a frustrated expression, “Please, please, please.” It appeared no matter how much Nathalie begged, the lugnut on her hubcap wasn’t going to budge and she was destined to spend the next hour waiting for a tow truck. The sight of another person walking lifted the brunette’s spirits, if only slightly. “Excuse me, do you think you could help me?” she quickly bent down to yank on the wrench still attached to her wheel, “I’ve been trying to get this lugnut off for close to twenty minutes and nothing. Maybe if we both try it might work?”

Brandon had just finished up at the shop for the day-- which was extremely long, but always inspiring nonetheless. So to say that he was a little tired would definitely be an understatement. While on his way home, all he could think about was the comfort of his bed, and how nice it’d be just to fall asleep and stay there until Tuesday morning.

However, there was a voice that interrupted his little day dream; causing Brandon to look towards the person in need.

A female. A rather beautiful female, actually.

“Oh-- Sure, yeah, sure. I can give it a go.” Jogging over towards where he car was, Brando placed his hands on his hips, getting a look at what he had to deal with exactly. “Is it just... really jammed on there? Doesn’t wanna budge, huh?”

#interaction:#nathaliedeekes #// HERE WE GO BITCH

avakingston:

“Shitty, horrible timing.” Ava responded, as she slid down the back of the chair she sat in. “Oh, it does. I’m an event coordinator, and weddings are my specialty. It still doesn’t make it any easier, especially when you gotta try and pull together the injured party. While keeping the guests in line, and good lord, said party’s family members?” Ava shook her head as she thought of some of the crazy family members she had to deal with in the past. Rather the wedding went according to plan, or not. “It’s cold. And ridiculous. I’m not saying marry someone if you don’t want to, but don’t wait until you’re at the alter. In front of the other’s friends and family.”

As her occupation was brought to light, there was this moment of relief within Brandon. There was this slight slice of concern whether or not it had just happened to her personally. But thankfully that theory could be laid to rest. “Yeah, that really does sound like it would suck. You’re the one having to clean it all up and all. I will say this, you’re strong for being able to take all of this on-- I could not handle that. I can barely handle doing groomsmen haircuts. Funnily enough, they can get pretty picky when it comes to how it all gets slicked back.”

“-- So what did you even have to do? How did it all plan out?”

#avakingston

connorowenandrews:

Connor laughed at the other mans initial reaction before giving a small shrug, “I spent … a lot of time in hospitals as a teenager. Cancer, which sucked, but I’m three years in remission this time, so hopefully that sticks now.” he began carefully. He didn’t mind being open about his past, but he knew that some people weren’t exactly comfortable with the topic, “But I saw a lot kids there that needed help dealing with it, and I mean, my parents kind of suck too, and a lot of kids have parents that suck even worse and don’t have awesome siblings like I do, so … I kind of figured it was a good way to give back? Plus, kids are awesome, and they shouldn’t have to deal with that kind of stuff, so if I can help, I want to.” he explained.

He couldn’t help but smile at the other’s description of how he felt about his world, “That’s how work should be.” he said with a nod, “But still, everybody needs to take a break sometimes. You can burn out even on stuff you love if you don’t.” he added carefully before grinning as the other man continued talking, “Well, if that’s all it is, I am the expert and finding fun stuff to do, so I can always help with that!” he offered happily. Granted, some people found Connor’s idea of an entertaining time questionable, but he certainly always had fun.

“Hey-- that’s absolutely amazing, man. I’m keeping you in my thoughts, sending all the good vibes for that to continue.” With the gesture of good forward-thinking, Brandon continued to listen in to what this guy’s story was. And honestly, it was incredible. He always respected those who took their shitty situation, and changed it into something for the better. More people in the world needed to be like Connor. “It’s definitely an amazing way to give back, for sure. I can’t say that I would know, clearly, but from what I can assume, these kids probably just love the fact that you’re there with them. You’ve been through it, you know-- and they need that. Someone who knows, someone who gets it. -- You’ve done a great thing, mate. Seriously.”

Out of all of this, Connor had a huge point that Brandon didn’t even consider. Burning out was still possible even when you were focused on something you love. He thought about it, and it was so damn true. At the end of the day, he was exhausted. Once his head hit that pillow, he was out for the count. “Well then, since you’re the man with many ideas, I’ll trust in you.”

#connorowenandrews

dakotakxng:

“Luscious is definitely the right word. You should be the spokesperson for Pantene, you know? Or L’Oreal, because well… You’re worth it,” she joked and reached over to run her fingers through his hair. Her eyes widened a little and a laugh parted from her mouth, “Wow, it really is very nice. It’s softer than my hair, and I have really soft hair,” she commented and ruffled his dark locks a bit at the back before returning her hand to herself again.

She laughed at the way he said her name, repeating it three times over for added effect no doubt, and she nodded. “You’re right,” she said at first, “Maybe you should see if you could get her number for me, and then figure out if she does house calls or if I’ll have to come to her for a quick trim.” She picked through her food, chuckling a bit before she looked back up at Brandon again with a soft smile. “I was hoping you would say something like that. Look at these —” she grabbed her a handful of her own hair and turned the ends up, showcasing just how frazzled and split they were. “I’d still pay though, at the very least in food or drinks or something.”

She nodded and mm-hmm’ed. She was definitely enjoying the quiet for now — For as long as it would last, because Brandon was right. Lanford might have looked quiet on the surface, but there was always something right around the corner indeed. “Yeah. What about you though? Any news?”

“Right--” He beamed, chuckling along with her ruffling through his hair. “Well, mind you, I do have access to some pretty amazing products. And if I didn’t have such nice hair, I don’t think people would even trust me with theirs.” It was all about the image in this industry; but for Brandon is was also just about overall health. He enjoyed eating right -- for the most part -- working out, and making sure that the rest of himself was in as best condition as possible; hence the nice hair, and skin routine he’d take part in every night.

“I can try to track her down for you, and see what can happen from it.” It was all a humorous thought, which added to the chuckles between his words, “Maybe if she’s good enough, I’ll even give her a chair in my shop. It could be a win, win for us all.”

As Dakota showcased the ends of her hair, he couldn’t help what he did best; analyze. The condition of her hair wasn’t completely terrible at all-- he had seen much worse. But a means for a trim were definitely needed-- it was always needed. Trimming your hair as much as you could would always keep it in the best condition-- may not be geared towards those who desire length, but it was the idea situation. “You know you just have to give me food or drinks. You’re family-- family doesn’t actually pay. -- But yeah, come buy and I’ll fix that up for you.”

“Um--” He paused, taking another little bit from the box of food, mulling over what there was really to tell. And then it hit him-- Oh, yeah. “Actually, there may be a little...opportunity lining up soon. Hopefully. I don’t know for sure, though. It’s a photoshoot sort of thing with a major fashion company. I can’t really get into details, but I’m still waiting to get a call back about an appointment with them.”

#dakotakxng

avakingston:

“How the hell can you be with someone for seven years, and decide on the day of your wedding that they’re not the one you want?” Ava questioned out loud, still completely lost on that thought. Hell, the whole day, in fact. “Especially when the engagement, itself, was two years? In all that time, you couldn’t stop and think, huh — this isn’t what I want—? Instead, you wait until the day of? It really couldn’t have all just hit you right there and then.” Or could it.

“It’s pretty terrible timing, but I can only assume it happens more than we’d think. It’s not something I would ever check off as impossible, that’s for sure.” The question was a tough one, but Brandon knew from experience that sometimes people have to make difficult decisions-- even when the time doesn’t add up. “Maybe it’s a final chance sort of thing? A final realization? -- I’m not saying I agree with it, or anything like that, but... people make up their mind at weird moments. Whether they’re good ones, or bad.”

#interaction:#avakingston

jasxncash:

“… Nah, nah– I ain’t touchin’ that with a ten foot pool, nope. Let the pigs deal with that one, stick their oinkhole’s in it, ‘cause that ain’t me,” Cerulean iris’s fixed on the person beside him mid-turn away, and he cocked an eyebrow, head shaking through the rare display of sage advice given from him to them, “And if you know what’s good for you, that ain’t you, either––”

Fights that broke out in the streets weren’t that uncommon, and Brandon would usually try to step in between-- depending on how things were playing out. But this one? Yeah-- it was pretty rough, and just as the other male had noted, it also ain’t him.

“Agreed.” Brando muttered under his breath, finally taking this moment to turn away from the scene. “That’s just a lot, and I don’t think I have it in me to deal with trying to intervene today.”

#interaction:#jasxncash

Life was an odd thing.

One minute, you’re just sitting on your couch, watching reruns of whatever is on TV. And the next, you’re getting a rushed phone call that literally turns your world upside down.

The news of what had happened to Emma broke his heart-- his mind trying to process why she would try to do such a thing. But most of all, Brandon was trying to figure out if he had noticed signs. Signs that he just didn’t think too much on-- and that possibility scared the shit out of him. What if he could have done something to help? What if there was something he could have said to just prevent all of this?

For right now, he couldn’t think about himself-- he couldn’t focus in on what he could have, and should have. Right now, this was all about Emma. And he had to be there for her, for as long as she needed him. Brandon wasn’t going to leave her side until she forced him to step down; his protective and nurturing personality hitting an all-time peak.

So that’s exactly why he decided to do his best and distract her today. A little happiness was definitely needed, and Brandon had collected some of her favourite things; hoping that it would put some slice of a smile across her face.

An adorable little pot of night sky petunias, a decent-sized bag of mini pretzels, and a single fruit tart.

Knock, knock, knock. “--Emma?” His voice was low; just in case she was napping, he didn’t want to disturb her with such an abrupt noise.

Opening up the hospital room door just enough so that a majority of his torso was evident, the male offered up his usual gentle smile, “Hey-- Is now a bad time? If you need rest, I’ll just-- I can come back later?”

(( @emma-martinelli ))

#interaction:#emmamartinelli

dakotakxng:

“Yeah, all your charm is in your hair, Brando — You can’t run from it,” she joked and laughed, but the way her eyes softening was a clear and fast way to know she was nowhere close to being serious. That she cared about him far beyond appearances, and that she always would. While she was nowhere near as selfless and kindhearted as her parents were, she was loyal to a fault and Brandon had been family to her for as long as she could remember. On top of it, he was a genuinely good guy to the core too, in her opinion.

Looking back at him when he replied to her vague, and pretty boring answer, a smile curled at her lips and she nodded. “Yeah, it’s definitely a good thing, or also just a sign of me not going to the hairdressers often enough. Can you believe they charge me to cut my hair when someone’s crazy girlfriend will do it for free?” She joked, shaking her head with a laugh parting her lips.

“Oh, I always laugh when people fall down, especially teenagers, you know? It’s the funniest thing ever — Their reactions are always so unpredictable.” She chuckled indulgently, like she wasn’t supposed to but did anyway. Her parents would’ve disapproved no doubt, but she wasn’t a kid anymore and even if she had been, that wouldn’t have changed much. She was always her own person, maybe a little too much for their liking. “But no. I mean… Things are weird. Being back here is weird. That in itself is eventful enough for me right now.”

“That is something that I will accept. And the statement is probably more true than not, because--” A free hand was quick to move up into his locks, fingers pulling up a few strands, right up at a ninety degree. “It’s all healthy, and shiny, and luscious.” There was a slight try at being arrogant, but it was all in good humour-- mostly because of the fact that once the words left his lips, he couldn’t help himself; a chuckle could not be held back. “Girls would kill for hair like this.”

“Dakota, Dakota, Dakota-- sometimes you just have to live on the wild side, right? Trust a chick that’ll just buzz it all off for you.” Brandon paused, and took another mouthful of food. After it all had passed, slowly steering his empty stomach towards that of a satisfied one, he continued on, “Speaking about getting a cut-- don’t waste your money anywhere else. You know I’d be able to give you a quick trim. I haven’t forgotten any tricks and techniques from school.”

“I hear ya. Baby-steps and all. Well, knowing this place, something interesting is always right around the corner. Guess it’s best that not much has happened; you get some time to relax.”

#dakotakxng

adrianohara:

The heed of their discourse winded a turn, and though Brandon had the reins, Adrian knew where their trot was taking them. He supposed he should have seen it coming; the O’Haras poor fare of luck had always been a looming topic of discussion around the small town, and now, with the series of events as of late, everyone and their mother were aware that the clan was grasping at straws in the wake of it all. A whole spectrum had formed of plausible reactions from the town folk; from empathy to anger to indifference and to dismissal, the list went on. Adrian could weather it— stoic by nature he was, and he always rather it him than Ophelia or Idris, but that didn’t mean it was easy. As Brandon went on he felt a tinge of rouge flush his malar and his gaze wane to a ruffle in the plastic cape, around the abdominal area, his shoulders tensing and his hips shifting as he readied polite dismissal and hackneyed gratuity’s on his tongue’s tarmac. It did not take off.

There was something about the way Brandon said things that injected an air of lightness in words weighted– a comfortability if you will, that, in a manner so seldom for the broad raven male in the barber’s chair, caused his aversion to ‘taking’ and looking anything but virile and stoic to dissipate. “––Thank you, Brandon. For all of it,” Vagrant hues flickered up and locked on the brunette male standing behind him through the mirror’s medium, conviction and gratuity pulsating in them, austere as can be, “I mean it,” He nodded carefully, “It’s a reassuring thing, you know— to know you have some people in town still in your corner. You’re a good man for it,” Maybe there was something about sitting at the mercy of another with sharp sheers in their hand that placed your trust with them too, but Adrian couldn’t imagine any barber having the same effect Brandon did on him, “You’re a good, good man.”

But in Adrian’s fashion, his sentiments for the take swelled and opened, but closed just as quick like that of a flytrap who’s crooks and ridges were tricky to pry apart; only one or two had been known to pry him apart without effort, as it was. A few blinks of long lashes and full lips rolling before they magicked into a small lunette curve, a boyish defence on in the gilded male’s defence to charm lightness into heavy air, and his hazel gaze softened on Brandon’s brown through the mirror as he added– “And the same goes for you, you hear? Even if that means just a home cooked meal after a long day of cutting hair, we’re here. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried Ophelia O’Hara’s spaghetti bolognese,” It was their mother’s recipe, one that she had only adorned, “… Our door’s always open for you too, man.”

“No need to thank me, good sir. I’m just speaking my truth.” It was odd to him-- that anyone could see the O’Hara’s in any other light. But when mob-mentality was a thing, that’s when Brandon shook his head at society. Though-- he stuck to his own guns; knowing more than enough of who to trust, and who to keep an eye on. Many years out on the streets had taught him a thing or two. “-- But, thank you, nonetheless.”

The invitation into their home was something that warmed the male’s heart. It always did when others extended such an offer-- the only representation of a well-rounded family that Brandon had witnessed was those of no-blood relation; his family being, well, irrelevant since the very beginning.

Even if he wasn’t apart of it, he always felt a slight inkling of home; he had to make it for himself. But that was the best form of family to have-- the ones you selected on your own.

“Well, if it’s that good, then I’ll have to take you up on that. I’m a man that can be easily swayed with the offering of food.” There was a bit of a nod, and a pressed-lip smile as Brandon finally glanced away from the mirror, and instead to the back of the man’s head. “Sorry, just going to get you to tilt a bit forward--” He asked, hand practically already guiding him to where it had to be.

And with the clippers buzzing away, Brandon went on with the cut.

“-- So, a cop.” He muttered out after a few short moments, “What made you wanna do that?”

#adrianohara #// i stan two (2) men #// also rip sorry this is trASH

connorowenandrews:

Connor laughed at the other’s comment and he shook his head, “Nah, don’t worry about that. I figure it’s best to avoid analyzing people I know - unless it’s my mother - plus, I plan to work with kids anyway.” he said with a small shrug. The whole idea was more about being able to help kids then it really was about the ‘figuring people out’ to him anyway. He’d grown up seeing enough kids in hospitals and kids with parents that sucked as much or worse then his did that he wanted to be able to do something about it.

Connor shook his head dead in mock disappointment at the answer, “Aw, you sound just like my cousin, workaholics, the both of you.” he teased, “But I can get Alex to take a break sometime, so I’ll just have to work on reminding you how to have fun too.” he added with a grin.

“Well, thank god-- then I’m saved!” He beamed out, followed by a small fit of laughter. “I like to live my life in slight ignorance towards myself. Don’t need you shattering the glass, so to say.” Though, Brandon was a tad bit curious as to why the male wanted to specialize more with the psychology of children instead, “Is there any certain reason to that? Other than, you know, the fact that their brains are different and what not. I’m sure that takes a special, and patient type of person to want to focus in on that.”

“You can remind me all you want, and I’ll probably give in at some point. But there’s just-- There’s just something about work. Because when you love what you’re doing, it doesn’t even feel like work. I think maybe that’s where some of the confusion lies. I’ll label myself as a workaholic, but the time just travels by me so fast, I barely think about how long I’ve been in the shop for.” It was true-- he could be there for hours upon hours, until someone came by or texted him, snapping him back into reality. “But you are right-- I should probably learn to bring it on down a little. Relax. Go out, have a fun time, and what not. I’m just not hip with the times, at least, not much so. I wouldn’t even know what to do--”

#connorowenandrews

victoriascarpelli:

“We’re just gonna have to work on your entrance,” Victoria voiced, being heard first and seen second as the woman came rushing to the staircase. She stopped momentarily before ascending, the dark-haired male holding her attention with words that only seemed to beckon the cyclist from her tall tower she called her bedroom. “You better not be joking,” there was a level of seriousness that came with the promise of baked goods, especially when they had the aroma of chocolate chip cookies, an irresistible scent that now had Victoria at the man’s side.

It couldn’t have been too surprising for Brandon to see how quickly she got into the container, pulling out one of the cookies which had been promptly bitten into the moment fingers had a firm grasp on the dessert. “I forgive you for the lack of singing this time,” she confessed with a mouthful as her free arm wrapped around the other’s torso for a side-hug, the best embrace she could manage when her attention was on the cookie in her other hand. “Store bought doesn’t stand a chance against these, thank you.”

Chocolate chip cookies--

See, that was the best thing, it was a weakness. Not just for her, but many others as well. Damn-- himself included. No one could say no to some fresh, homemade, chocolate chip cookies. It was something created by the gods, really. One of the finer pleasures in life.

And honestly, Brandon just loved making people happy-- and baked goods was always his go-to.

“See, I knew that these were going to get me off the hook.” He beamed; his own arm wrapping around her shoulders to tug her in, completing the hug. “Well, I just know how much you loved them, and I thought it would be a nice little gesture. Seeing as though we haven’t seen each other in a little while-- work being a beautiful pain in the ass, and all.” Brandon loved what he did, but the biggest downfall was the fact that he was so hyper-focused in it all. The idea of taking a break, and spending some time to himself-- or with friends -- was something that he didn’t get to practice all too often.

At least, not if they didn’t pop by the shop.

“So, c’mon, stuff your face--” He shook around the container for a moment, as if that made them more desirable. “And tell me what’s new. What’s going on. What’s hip with the kids--”

#victoriascarpelli

theslickhare

Lanford, New York

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theslickhare we love a wicked contrast

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#brandon: the slick hare #lanmedia

mason-janes:

“Man, you ever go into town and play?” He asked, gaze falling to the side in thought, his feet shifting and brows furrowing down, “… There’s this one place,” The blonde mused aloud, “–– Tompkins Park, I think. They got a nice, red asphalt court and got some kind of gym set up,” He described, shoulders canted to one side, his weight tilted onto one leg while he considered, “I like that The City’s good for that. You can always find a place to play ball.”

“-- I haven’t been in ages.” There was a part of him that almost wondered with him growing older, if all of that high energy activity stuff was slowly thinning itself out from his life. If basic things, like a good round of Foosball, was enough for him nowadays. “The last time I was in the city, which was again, a while ago -- they had this one match up that was quite interesting. I think it’s just a bunch of the neighborhood residents that get together on weekends, and just tear it up. -- It was actually really awesome to watch. I’m pretty sure there was even some betting on the side, and that just amped everyone up.”

#masonjanes

skyecasal:

Skye hadn’t considered any possible reactions, or expected any specific one. It wasn’t until she was standing there with her phone in her hand, Brandon’s Instagram history on display for him to verify, that she realised in full how big this actually was, and how much it reminded her of taking this job in the first place. It had happened not entirely this way, but with enough similarities to recall the feeling she had in her gut when the phone call had turned a regular afternoon into something unique and special. From the look on Brandon’s face, he was starting to understand that feeling too.

“Well, you didn’t have to say anything other than yes, so you’ve pretty much nailed it,” she replied with an airy lightness, mouth quirked into the biggest smile. As excited as she had been coming in, and after setting this whole thing up in the first place, she was even more excited now— the obvious humility and gratitude in his words enough to lift everything to a new level of not only pride, but sense of success as well. She liked to look out for the people she considered friends, and this truly was the least she could do for someone who had the talent to make it without her— easily.

“Okay so, I’ve got this card for you,” she said and fished a crisp business card out of her purse. It was matte black, lacquered and seemed all too expensive to just be a business card in all honesty, but she hoped it wouldn’t intimidate him, but just further prove his worth and the league he could play in. “It’s for one of the senior directors. He wants to schedule a meeting with you— his assistant is expecting your call to make an appointment. I can’t tell you a lot of things about the work he’s interested in hiring you for, just that… well, it would be featured in print and media campaigns, and that there’s a chance a chance of further employment on a freelance basis, meaning… they’d be interested in hiring you for fashion weeks, and that kind of thing. But they know you’re busy here too, so you can say no, and kind of pick and choose if all goes well.”

As she continued on, relaying whatever she had to tell him-- what the vague things that could even be talked about, Brandon just stood there; still in awe. He glanced down towards the small business card that was now tightly gripped between his fingers; noting the name, the contact info, and the small graphic design on the back.

This was something that would hit him over, and over again; each time the wave of realization would feel slightly different-- but no matter what, there was this backing feeling of excitement. “Uh, okay-- So I just call, and then we work something out, and then I meet the big man in-charge, and-- Okay.” Repeating literally everything that she had told him wasn’t for clarification purposes or anything like that, it was more so for it to still sink into his brain.

Print. Media campaigns. Fashion Weeks. “That actually sounds like a pretty sweet deal--” Brandon noted, a lightness in his eyes as he glanced back up from the card, “So, if this all works out, I’ll give you a call and then I’ll have to take you out for a thank-you lunch. Or dinner. Or coffee. Or whatever you have time for. Just a thank-you-whatever.”

#skyecasal

dakotakxng:

There was something really relatable about the situation — Not the one with the angry ex-girlfriend and the clippers, but with Brandon’s situation in general. He had to listen to a lot of things from a lot of different people, just like she had gotten used to when she still ran her games in the city. For her that was mostly listening to rich people complaining about their first world problems, but every now and then, something more serious would sneak in, or something more relatable too.

“I hope so,” she said, “If he didn’t, then his girlfriend just went crazy for no reason.” She grinned and looked up from her food at Brandon, and nodded her head when he said he didn’t really want to know the details. A lot could be said about North End kids, but one thing was for sure, they were fucking smart — Knew how to survive. “Seems like a good plan. I only like you for your hair anyway so…” Her lips parted in a laugh and she shook her head lightly.

He didn’t know the whole story of the last three years of her life. No one did, and it was… Lonely, to say the least, especially when she looked back at it now and could see behind the fear and paranoia that ruled her for so long. Having that burden off of her shoulders was priceless, and she was enjoying every moment, especially since she could see her friends again without worrying she would put them in harm’s way just by association. “I’m good,” she said and smiled when it felt like the truth for the first time in so, so long. “No one tried to clip off my hair recently at least.”

“See-- I would normally take that with some form of offence,” He joked, “However, I must agree with you. Me with my head shaved down to the wood is not a pretty sight. Had to do it once, and I don’t plan on ever having to do that again.” There was this string of laughter that escaped him; one that easily died down in a few seconds after. The thought of him having to go full cue-ball was the most humorous thing about it-- such a terrible look.

Brandon focused in on the food in front of him for a moment or two, still listening intently for her to answer. With a few bites, the make was then looking up, a toothless smile pulling onto his lips. He raised the back of his hand towards his mouth, as if it was shielding the fact that he was finishing up whatever was left over. “That could either be a good thing, or maybe an uneventful time, depending on how you view it.” With his hand still blocking the fact that he was eating, Brandon mustered out a light chuckle; and it was only when the chuckle subsided did his hand finally drop back down.

“-- Has anything exciting happened recently? Or perhaps you witnessed a funny thing-- like a child falling on the street, and you know you shouldn’t laugh because it’s terrible, but you also can’t help the fact that it’s hilarious? Or is that just me?”

#dakotakxng

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