what's new pussycat

anyone who believes what a cat tells him deserves all that he gets. jamie ward. 26. cat. $alem

[sabcrhagcn]

slcppyseconds‌:

Charlie cocked an eyebrow as he started eating as though he thought she might take the plate away between any given bite, which was… odd. She supposed it was no stranger than the contradiction between the look in his eyes and the scowl on his face. Going from small town Ohio to big city Chicago, especially with her certain brand of problem, had introduced her to a whole slew of dodgy characters, and Buck Wilde in and of itself was a cesspool of creeps. Her interaction with Jamie was limited, sure, but he didn’t seem creepy. Just odd. She couldn’t put her finger on it. 

Maybe he was just tired and hungry. So was she, in hindsight. 

She sat down opposite of him as invited. “An art dealer? That’s fancy.” Charlie gave him a once-over, pulling her knees to her chest, the heels of her shoes resting on the edge of the bench. No one else was coming in, and until Jamie was done eating, there was nothing for her to do anyway. “How much does that pay? Like, what, does the artist get the cash and you get paid the delivery fee or something?”

Charlie could pretend she was cultured all she wanted, but the truth was she never had a taste for life’s finer things. She was never really exposed to things like art as a kid. “Nah. I mean, I’ve been to museums. But my walls are mostly decorated with my students’ crayon drawings and embarrassing candid photos of my brother.” She paused, then jerked her head down to his plate. “You gonna eat all those potatoes?”

Jamie glanced up when he felt her eyes on him. A flutter of self-consciousness made him wonder if he should’ve worn a turtleneck instead of beat-up denim and sherpa but it was too late then to change. He shrugged, playing aloof as he focused on funneling food into his mouth. It wasn’t like he knew jack shit about art anyway but girls were into that, right?

The sudden and abrupt dawning that he’d never spent any genuine time trying to court anyone was humbling as it kept him waffling in uncertain silence as doubt kept bleeding in through the cracks. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her until she spoke and when she did, he glimpsed up just long enough to make contact before his gaze skittered away like water on a hot skillet. It was nerve-wracking. He’d take satanic rituals over courtship any day. 

“I work on commission so I get a percentage of the profit after selling a piece.” That percentage being 100% after lifting it but who needed to know?

Jamie cut her a look when she mentioned ‘candid photos of her brother’, his pillowed cheeks the only things keeping his mouth from wrenching into disgust before sputtering something disparaging about the Brady bunch. The Hudsons were worse than he could’ve ever made them out to be with his own unfettered imagination with their apple-pie family values. Jamie’s efforts to not look completely foul were dashed when Charlie glanced over at his food.

This was it. This was the ultimate sacrifice to a con. Jamie turned his fork in his hand as he hovered over the plate like a hungry gremlin who’d had its first bite at midnight. He swallowed down the mush of eggs and bacon in his mouth in a large gulp before leaning back in his seat. Slowly. 

“Help yourself,” he said, carefully placing the fork at the edge of the plate. “You must be starving after work and raising your brother and all. I assume that’s why you’ve got two jobs.”

[sabcrhagcn]

slcppyseconds‌:

Charlotte had long since grown accustomed to being stared at. Ever since the manifestation of her enchantment, she’d attracted a lot of unwanted attention from unwanted people. Her ability to control it was minimal, only able to amplify it when she really wanted something, and it had otherwise become a simple fact in her life. Often times it was useful; her Buck Wilde co-workers didn’t get why her tips were usually higher than theirs and the other teachers lamented in how she got lucky with a group of kids who seemed to listen just a little better, but there were often moments when it was unsettling. She didn’t know how to turn it off. 

She could feel it, the way she had his attention, but it didn’t seem the same as it normally did. She appreciated that in the way that she could almost mistake it for him being tired. For all she knew, that’s what it was; sometimes Charlie wondered how much her ego influenced the way she perceived interactions. Anyway, as per usual, she brushed it off. As long as he hurried and tipped, she had minimal complaints. 

“Charlie,” she replied, offering the man–Jamie–a warm smile. “Nice to meet you. Hang tight and I’ll see what I can manage.” 

Charlotte’s cooking skills had always been disconcertingly abysmal, but she could do the basics: eggs, potatoes, bacon, toast. It was a filling yet quick classic, a crowd-pleaser, and it was almost impossible for her to fuck up, so she was thankful for his lack of parameters. Upon her return, Charlie set two plates and the requested soda in front of him.

“There we go, Jamie. Hope you don’t mind the eggs sunny side up,” she shrugged, wiping her hands on the cloth she’d used to guard herself from the hot plates. “Where’d you come back from? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

Jamie watched as the waitress retreated, unable to take his eyes off of her golden ponytail. He could sense his pupils expanding with his growing interest as his vision seemed to zoom in on every flaxen strand teasing him frown around the corner of the kitchen. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that something was amiss with her when the only time he’d ever felt so roused in his life was in front of a double bacon cheeseburger.

By the time Charlie returned with the food, Jamie’s eyes had darkened completely. The blues of his eyes were reduced to a silver ring around his pupils, rendering him a cartoonish approximation of a lemur or some other animal with ridiculously large eyeballs. He furrowed his brows as his stomach flipped-flopped in his guts at her proximity, his eyes suspiciously scanning her hair for sesame seeds and her torso for grease stains. The target was beginning to prove itself as a problem and in spite of his broody glowering, there wasn’t much Jamie could do about the heat flushing his face.

“I could use a little less sunshine in my day but it’ll do,” he muttered as he picked up a fork and began funneling food into his mouth. If he could’ve unhinged his jaw, it looked like he would’ve as he desperately tried to flush the discomfort in his guts with copious amounts of cholesterol.

“Canada. I’m an art dealer and I had to deliver a piece there for some fancy hipster soiree. Not a fun ride but it’s good pay.”

Jamie clicked his fork noisily on the plate as he collected potatoes onto the prongs, diligently avoiding her eyes. “Why don’t you have a seat and stay a while? I don’t think your boss is watching. You into art, Charlie?”

[sabcrhagcn]

liabilitykt‌:

I can’t judge.  I’ve been living off scraps from this vegetarian restaurant that takes pity on my precious mug for a few weeks.  

Whatever you say, weirdo.  

Some old, same old.  Cleaning up the city’s messes, making a few of my own.  The usual.  How’s the lady gang?

That’s not living, that’s pure masochism. You should’ve told me you were starving yourself. I would’ve done something. Not sure what but it’s the thought that counts, right?

It’s about as good as one would expect a gang of nymphomanic kleptos to be. I’m laying low for a bit after inadvertently blowing up Chicago but after this payday, I’ll be set until at least December. Apparently alien tech is a hit with the art collectors.

[yabookquote]

I don’t hold a grudge. I cradle it. I coddle it. I feed it fine cuts of meat and send it to the best schools. I nurture my grudges.

Leigh Bardugo, Crooked Kingdom

[sabcrhagcn]

slcppyseconds‌:

Charlotte had gravely underestimated her ability to juggle two jobs plus training once the school year began; perhaps she could have handled wrangling seventeen kids every day and getting beaten up at the academy alone, but spending all her free time at Buck Wilde–a cesspool for drunks and somewhat handsy clientele–was really testing her patience. Chicago was expensive, and while Charlie knew she only had to ask Finn for financial help and he’d almost certainly chip in, she didn’t want to. If her brothers could do it alone, why couldn’t she? 

Nights like these made her wonder if her pride was making her absolutely stupid. The bar was just a few minutes shy of closing and Charlie had about six hours before she had to be up for school, so the fact that most of the joint had already cleared out was a blessing. No more regulars who were too drunk to grasp the concept of “last call.” Just her, the bartender, and the bartender’s boyfriend. 

And then the door opened, and in stepped some guy, and Charlie entertained the idea of spritzing that bottle of cleaner right in his face. Just like that, her idea of a decent night’s sleep flitted right out the window.

He seemed nice, though, and the assurance of a tip was promising; Charlie found that Buck Wilde was hit or miss with its patrons, and a few extra bucks going toward rent didn’t exactly hurt. She shot a sidelong glance to the bartender, too engrossed in their conversation with their significant other to care about the new patron, and decided there wasn’t much harm in obliging. 

“Chef’s gone home for the night, so you’re gonna have to order something pretty simple,” Charlotte decided, setting her hands on her hips and cocking her head to the side, her pony tail swinging behind her. “Have a seat, Garfield. You want a drink?

Jamie didn’t have to be asked twice to sit down and dropped into a booth, taking full advantage of the hospitality and the few seconds he had to take in the interiors and deduce a narrative from it and the girl’s visage alone. It was far from a classy establishment which meant that it was unlikely that she had a taste for luxury or if she did, she certainly couldn’t afford it on the tips made there. He speculated about her other extracurricular activities for a moment as he considered her sensible shoes. Impossible. No Hudson could ever be remotely interesting. It opposed every strand of their DNA.

He feigned interest in the menu for a moment before tucking it back behind a napkin dispenser and leaned onto his elbows. With his face upturned towards the light, the sliver of his pupils shrunk into pinpricks that were nearly convincingly human. “Yeah, a soda would be great and whatever you can throw together in the kitchen is fine with me. I’m not picky.”

Jamie canted his head at the pendulum of her ponytail, his baser instincts growing invested in it in a way he could never explain. It felt worse than usual that night, his ravenous hunger expanding exponentially between the door and the seat he took and the longer he watched her, the more empty his stomach felt. Suddenly everything smelled like cheeseburgers.

Jamie cleared his throat and tore his eyes away, batting his lashes as if he could refresh his reality the more rapidly he blinked them. “It’s Jamie, by the way. I appreciate the hospitality. I had a long drive getting back into the city and I don’t think I would’ve made it ‘til morning.”

[sabcrhagcn]

Jamie popped his neck as he approached the doors of Buck Wilde. The stench of liquor that permeated through the oak doors was as nauseating as the smell of humans and desperation wafting out of it with every wasted patron stumbling their way home. Something about pheromones never appealed to Jamie, even as he broached puberty in dreadful await of a heat that never came. It wasn’t love or primal lust that drove him to the bar. It wasn’t even vague attraction from stolen glances through a murky window but something more. Something more base and important than making a grand attempt at rousing his dead-in-the-water hormones from their twenty-six year slumber: he was hungry. 

His voracious appetite for mischief and chaos had finally been appeased by the discovery of Charlotte’s identity after he’d spotted her slinking out of the Hudson abode. She’d gone from a basic Betty who left him tuna outside to a goldmine of potential for upset which was marginally more thrilling than being fed. If one had thought that Jamie learned his lesson not to mess with Finn Hudson’s things the first time, then they were wrong. He was going to mess up that stupid meatball and his entire meaty family if only to watch his All-American veneer snap-crackle and die miserably in patriotic glory.

The chime above the door jangled as Jamie pushed his way into the dying bar. Trussed up in his own clothes for once, he might’ve made an impression with his tall, lanky frame and suspiciously luminous eyes had he not been walking into a dimly lit place with a sparse crowd. He was a Kidz Bop remake of a Carrie Underwood song waiting to happen.

“Hey,” Jamie said as he approached a familiar frame polishing a table for the night. He wrung his keys in earnest. “I know it’s kind of late but I’m starving. I just got in town and it looks like the whole city’s in repair so this is the only place left open. Mind helping a cat out?”

He cocked his head and hedged, “I promise to tip.”

@slcppyseconds

[dailyrivermale]

[sabcrhagcn]

dailyrivermale‌:

jughead + hair  [requested]

[sabcrhagcn]

vesicapieces‌:

[sabcrhagcn]

wakennbake‌:

Aw. that’s exactly how I feel about my plants. How lovely.

Okay, my affinity for cats is quirky and adorable because people can relate to animals but talking to your plants is weird and the kind of shit that’ll get you locked up in Arkham Asylum. Plants don’t have feelings. They don’t even have brains-- which is a terrible way to look at yourself. And that’s coming from me.

[sabcrhagcn]

wakennbake‌:

You’re either paranoid or deflecting, either way…if you need help, the Jones Academy is here for you. 

How do I put this nicely? Get fucked, mutant fascist.

[sabcrhagcn]

wakennbake‌:

Says you. You rant and rave about how aliens are real, but when one pops in front of you you’re a real dumbass about it.

Looks like we have more in common than either of us knew.

I thought maybe you had an affinity for glitter. How am I supposed to know if you’re a real alien or just a groupie? It’s been hard to tell ever since ever since Ariana Grande made holographics cool again.

[sabcrhagcn]

liabilityformo‌:

I may need to take my rubberband ball out of my office space as it’s getting a little too big for it to be considered not a safety hazard. It rolled on to the floor while I was alone and made the floor vibrate so hard I thought maybe there was another attack going on. But no, it just the result of diligent collecting for 53 years. Granted, a few of the really old rubber bands crumbled right off. It was… a sight. Hopefully none of the other Jones facility felt it and freaked out. Or should I just bring in some cookies to be safe regardless?

Your institution is a lie and a scam. You can keep your cookies. The last time a Jones offered free anything, 918 people died in a mass coerced suicide in 1978.

[sabcrhagcn]

wakennbake‌:

I like a bit of a game of chase, so while I can’t completely resonate with that I like your style regardless.

Oh, I would never name a cat cupcake. You  like cats quite a bit, don’t you? You seem very…passionate.

What can I say? They get me.

[sabcrhagcn]

wakennbake‌:

I’m not trying to win some fight with you. I don’t even know what you’re fighting for. But go ahead, watch me. You won’t see anything interesting. All I do is sit at home and read.

That’s exactly what someone suspicious would say.

[sabcrhagcn]

wakennbake‌:

I honestly didn’t even know about the cat thing until now, so thanks for that heads up. No wonder you’re such a sneaky little fucker. I mean the non-immortal part honestly but like, take it however you want. Cats have 9 lives, right? You better hope you’re on life #1. 

You must be the least observant person I know. 

What are you talking about? Stop being cryptic. That’s my deal.

[huxlee]

Visit Original Link

[sabcrhagcn]

wakennbake‌:

I don’t have allergies. I’m sorry for you if you do, though. I love Ivy. That’s wonderful. She can match the name of my flower shop.

Do you think cats should have human names? That’s funny. I like that. I give my plants human names. I’ve never had a pet before. I’m glad I have one now. Even though I think she’s a bit feral. We’re all a bit feral, I suppose.

I’m allergic to things that run away from me and those dandelion puffs think they’re real smart, I’ll tell you that.

Yeah. I mean, you wouldn’t make a cupcake your friend so why would you name your pet that? It’s stupid and humiliating and almost as bad as those little bells people think are super cute. Look, if God wanted people to hear cats, he wouldn’t have made them quiet and sneaky. They let you know when they want to be seen.