Eat your heart out, Gilmore

Christopher Perkins, Journalist, Badass Emcee

[heraldchrisperkins]

milesaldcn:

Talking didn’t exactly come easy to Miles. He wasn’t the verbal type, like Jasper or Jamie. He tended to keep his mouth shut, only chiming in when prompted to. The idea of unloading onto a stranger felt foreign, but somehow inviting. “It’s nothing, just thinking about-,” he shrugged. My dad. Everything. “Everything. This event always brings shit up, you know?”

Chris chuckled, nodding. “That’s kind of the point, isn’t it? Bring up all the bad stuff, and ship it off. LIterally. It helps us let go of some things, even if it’s for a few minutes, or hours. It won’t completely go away, and maybe we’ll even gain new perspectives. That’s just how I see it, but I understand where you’re coming from.”

[heraldchrisperkins]

phillipcarver:

“do you -” lip stops himself to sneeze into his elbow, “excuse me. do you want these?” he offers the flowers to the person he’d approached. “there’s nothing wrong with them i just,” another sneeze, “sorry, god, i’m allergic to the asters.”

Chris stood confused, looking at the flowers. “So why do you have them?” He asked, but taking the flowers anyways to spare the young man. “They’re really nice, at least.”

[heraldchrisperkins]

ofmoore:

Another day, another busy shift for Sophia. Her shift was on the lunch rush, so of course she was run off her feet serving food to people. She’s busy cleaning up a table when she notices’ Chris. Thinking he was ready to order the blonde quickly finishes tidying up the table and makes her way over to him with her notepad in hand. “Hello sir! Are you ready to order or do you need a few more minutes?” Sophia smiles at the male.

Chris raised an eyebrow, surprised at all the politeness. “Sir? I’m not that old, am I?” He coolly ran a hand through his thick head of hair. “Not that I don’t like it, but your rapport can be more relaxed with me. I’m probably like big brother age really.” He had gotten off track, talking about nothing that anyone was interested in. “Oh, sorry, ignore me. Uh, I’ll take a BLT with mayo and pickles, home fries, and a soda.”

[heraldchrisperkins]

milesaldcn:

For whatever reason, Miles mind had lingered on the fact that he’d forgotten to take the trash out. It wouldn’t have been such a terrible thing, if it hadn’t been for the fifteen bottles of beer his mother had guzzled the night before and crammed the empties into the bin. The house was sure to smell like stale ale for the rest of the week now. Of course, this was only a way to distract his mind from the burning boat event that had him on edge all week, anticipating the questions. ‘What will you burn?’ ‘Why not participate? It’s good for you.’ ‘The whole town is going’. Memories clung to him with the strength of super glue, it wouldn’t make a difference if he placed the physical forms on a fiery boat and set it to sea, there was a separation of mind and mass. He wasn’t a fucking three year old child that couldn’t understand that. Realizing his mind had wandered back to the place he didn’t want it to go, he looked up from his fixed spot on the table, noticing a man across from him surveying the place. Socializing. The perfect distraction. “Place is gonna pack up, soon. If you wanna join me over here and spare the table for a family or something,” he suggested.

Chris had heard a voice, but didn’t pay much mind to it as he was studying a couple in the corner of the room. The woman resembled someone Chris had seen before, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. It was the second voice that snapped him back to reality. “Huh? Oh, yeah that’s probably smart.” He grabbed his bag and pushed his chair in, walking over to the table and seating himself. “I forget how popular this place gets during lunchtime. I usually just eat at home.” He offered a smile, seeing the guy’s face. “You look like you’ve got something on your mind. Wanna talk about it? I usually listen to people talk all the time. Therapeutic or something.”

[heraldchrisperkins]

hale-charlotte:

charlotte, who was working on a minor in english as well as her political science major, often attended the events with guest speakers. with many friends majoring in journalism, that morning’s event was both social and educational. so, when the speaker, christopher perkins from the wilson hearld, finished, charlotte was dying to ask a few questions. as one of the town’s only journalists, she’d heard rumors that he dealt with some of the court cases that took place at city hall. unfortunately, they’d run out of time before she was able to ask her question. so, when she ran into the man at the jefferson street diner, one of her favorite places to grab lunch before class, she just couldn’t help herself. “uh, excuse me, mr. perkins?” she asked, approaching him. “i’m so glad i ran into you. i had a question.” she was hoping that she wasn’t interrupting his lunch. “if you’d rather, i could email you instead?” she suggested with a small smile. “i don’t want to interrupt.”

Chris had been watching a particularly animated conversation when he heard his name called. “What the f-crap?” He looked over, seeing a young woman in front of him. “Oh! Hi there! Sorry for the outburst. You said you had a question? By all means, take a seat. I love questions. Unless you’re about to ask for a job. Cause I don’t handle that until the second interview.” He chuckled, offering the seat across from him. “And please, call me Chris. ‘Mr, Perkins’ is way too old. I’m not even thirty yet.” But he was close.

[heraldchrisperkins]

Christopher walked down the sidewalk, a bit of a jump in his step. He had just given a guest lecture at Wilson College, which made him really happy. To see the faces of a brand new group of future journalists gave him an energy boost. Well, so did the double shot espresso he had downed before class. Feeling pretty good, Chris walked through the center of town, observing the residents as they went along their daily lives, A sudden realization had hit him: it was lunchtime, and Chris had not planned his lunch for the day. He could have probably picked up a sandwich and headed back to his office at the Herald, but it would be more enjoyable to sit and have a meal. So Chris ducked into the Jefferson Street Diner, grabbing a table and ordering a water. Taking a peek at the menu, Chris’s eyes traveled around, looking at the familiar, and not so familiar, faces.