#I understand why his milkshake brings all the boys to the yard | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aspenmissing · 1 year

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𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝙸𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚆𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 (𝙿𝚝 𝟷)

There is a mostly empty plate in front of Dean, who is circling obituaries in a newspaper. Y/N is next to him, circling something as an attractive waitress comes over, whose nametag says Wendy.

"Can I get you anything else?" Dean looks up and grins around the pen he's chewing on. Y/N glances, only to roll her eyes and continue drinking her milkshake. Sam then comes over and sits down.

"Just the check, please."

"Okay," Wendy walks away, looking a little disappointed. Dean drops his head and then looks at Sam.

"You know, Sam, we are allowed to have fun once in a while." Dean points to Wendy walking away; she's wearing short shorts. "That's fun," Sam and Y/N say. Dean then hands Sam the newspaper. "Here, take a look at this; I think I got one. Lake Manitou, Wisconsin. Last week, Sophie Carlton, eighteen, walked into the lake but didn't walk out. Authorities dragged the water; nothing. Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitou drowning this year. None of the other bodies were found either. They had a funeral two days ago.".

"A funeral?" Y/N asks.

"Yeah, it's weird; they buried an empty coffin. For, uh, closure or whatever."

"Closure? What closure? People don't just disappear, Dean and Y/N. Other people just stop looking for them.".

"Something you want to say to me?" Y/N lifts her milkshake and glares at Dean.

"The trail for Dad. It's getting colder every day.".

"Exactly. So, what are we supposed to do?"

"I don't know. Something. Anything"

"You know what? I'm sick of this attitude. You don't think I want to find Dad as much as you do?"

"Boys..." Y/N says, looking between the two but being brushed off.

"Yeah, I know you do; it's just..." Sam is cut off from Dean.

"I and Y/N are the ones that have been with him every single day for the past two years while you've been off to college going to pep rallies. We will find Dad, but until then, we're going to kill everything bad between here and there. Okay?" Sam rolls his eyes as Wendy, the waitress, walks by, distracting Dean.

"All right, Lake Manitou. Hey!" Dean and Y/N turn their attention to Sam.

"Huh?"

"How far?"

==Time Skip==

The Impala pulls up in front of the Carlton house. Y/N knocks on the door, and a man opens it.

"Will Carlton?"

"Yeah, that's right."

"I'm Agent Wells. This is Agent Ford and Agent Hamill," Y/N says, pointing to Dean and Sam. "We're with the US Wildlife Service." Y/N and Dean hold up IDs. Will brings Sam, Y/N, and Dean around to see a man sitting on a bench on the dock.

"She was about a hundred yards out. That's where she got dragged down.".

"And you're sure she didn't just drown?" Dean asks.

"Yeah. She was a varsity swimmer. She practically grew up in that lake. She was as safe there as in her bathtub.".

"So, no splashing? No signs of distress?"

"No, that's what I'm telling you."

"Did you see any shadows in the water? Maybe some dark shape breaches the surface."

"No. Again, she was far out there.".

"You ever see any strange tracks by the shoreline?"

"No, never. Why? Why, what do you think's out there?" Y/N smiles at him.

"We'll let you know as soon as we do." The twins head back to the car.

"What about your father?" Dean and Y/N stop and turn back to face Sam. "Can we talk to him?" Will turns to look at Bill, then turns back.

"Look, if you don't mind, I mean, he didn't see anything, and he's kind of been through a lot."

"We understand." The three go back to the car.

==Time Skip==

The Sheriff, Jake Devins, talks to Sam, Dean, and Y/N.

"Now, I'm sorry, but why does the Wildlife Service care about an accidental drowning?"

"You sure it's accidental? Will Carlton saw something grab his sister".

"Like what?" They walk into Jake's office, and Jake motions to the chairs in front of his desk. "Here, sit, please. There are no indigenous carnivores in that lake." Sam, Y/N, and Dean sit. "There's nothing even big enough to pull down a person unless it was the Loch Ness Monster."

"Yeah!" Y/N laughs. "Right," Sam glances at her.

"Will Carlton was traumatised, and sometimes the mind plays tricks. Still," Jack sits down. "We dragged the entire lake. We even ran a sonar sweep, just to be sure, and there was nothing down there."

"That's weird, though; I mean, that's the third missing body this year."

"I know. These are people from my town. These are people I care about.".

"I know"

"Anyway," Jake sighs. "All this...it won't be a problem much longer."

"What do you mean?" Y/N asks.

"Well, the dam, of course."

"Of course, the dam's sprung a leak.".

"It's falling apart, and the feds won't give us the grant to repair it, so they've opened the spillway. In another six months, there won't be much of a lake. There won't be much of a town, either. But as a federal wildfire, you already knew that.

"Exactly." A young woman taps on the door.

"Sorry, am I interrupting?" Sam, Dean, and Y/N stand up. "I can come back later.

"This is my daughter."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Dean" Dean shakes Andrea's hand.

"Andrea Barr. Hi"

"Hi," Y/N signs, knowing what he's thinking.

"They're from the Wildlife Service. About the lake"

"Oh," A little boy walks around Andrea. Y/N bends down, smiling.

"Oh, hey there. What's your name?" He walks away without speaking. Andrea follows.

"His name is Lucas." Y/N waves at Lucas. "We'll go to the park, okay, sweetie?" Andrea kisses Lucas on the head. Dean waves as they all leave.

"Thanks again." Andrea takes the siblings out and along the street to the motel.

"So, cute kid," Dean says, cutting the silence.

"Thanks." They cross a street.

"Kids are the best, huh?" Andrea glances at him and ignores him. They keep walking until they stop in front of a building that says Lakefront Motel.

"There it is. As I said, two blocks.".

"Thanks," Andrea addresses Dean.

"It must be hard, with your sense of direction, to never be able to find your way to a decent pickup line." Y/N laughs as Andrea leaves, calling back over her shoulder, "Enjoy your stay!"

"'Kids are the best. You don't even like kids," Sam states, looking at the man.

"I love kids."

"Name three children that you even know," Dean thinks, and he comes up empty. Y/N waves her head and walks into the motel, followed by Sam. Dean is still standing outside, scratching his head.

"I'm thinking," he calls out after the two.

Sam is working on his laptop, Dean is going through his clothing, and Y/N is lying down on the bed.

"So, there's the three drowning victims this year."

"Any before that?"

"Uh, yeah," Sam says, scanning the screen. "Six more have spread out over the past thirty-five years. Those bodies were never recovered either. If there is something out there, it's picking up its pace." Dean tosses an item of clothing onto the bed, next to the one Y/N's on.

"So, what? We got a lake monster on a binge."

"This whole lake monster theory just bugs me," Dean comes over to read over Sam's shoulder.

"Why?"

"Loch Ness, uh, Lake Champlain, there are hundreds of eyewitness accounts, but here, almost nothing." Sam looks at the Tribune homepage. "Whatever it is out there, no one's living to talk about it." Sam scrolls to the comments section of an article. Dean points at it.

"Wait, Barr, Christopher Barr. Where have I heard that name before?" Y/N says, now standing beside Sam.

"Christopher Barr, the victim in May" Sam clicks a link: "Oh, Christopher Barr was Andrea's husband and Lucas's father. He took Lucas out swimming. Lucas was on a floating wooden platform when Chris drowned. Two hours before the kid got rescued." Sam clicks on a picture for a better look, then scratches his head. "Maybe we have an eyewitness after all."

"No wonder that kid was so freaked out. Watching one of your parents die isn't something you just get over." Y/N glances over at Sam, frowning slightly.

Kids are laughing and playing. Andrea sits on a bench and watches Lucas, who is on another bench colouring and playing with toy soldiers.

"Can we join you?" Andrea looks up to see Sam, Y/N, and Dean.

"I'm here with my son," Y/N says, looking over at Lucas.

"Oh. Mind if I say hi?" Y/N goes over to Lucas.

"Tell your friend this whole Jerry Maguire thing is not going to work on me." Sam and Dean sit next to Andrea.

"I don't think that's what this is about." Y/N approaches Lucas.

"How's it going?" Y/N kneels next to the bench where Lucas is colouring; when Lucas doesn't even look up, Y/N picks up one of the toy soldiers.

"Oh, my brother used to love these things." Y/N imitates guns and explosions, then tosses the toy soldier down. "So crayons are more your thing? That's cool. I was like that." Lucas has a pile of drawings on the bench, which she looks at. The top one is of a big black swirl; the second one is of a red bicycle. "Hey, these are pretty good. Do you mind if I sit and draw with you for a while?" Y/N picks up a crayon and says, "I wasn't so bad myself." She sits on the bench, picks up a pad of paper, and starts drawing. "You know, I'm thinking you can hear me; you just don't want to talk. I don't know exactly what happened to your dad, but I know it was something really bad. I think I know how you feel. When I was your age, I saw something." Y/N pauses, then shakes her head. "Anyway. Well, maybe you don't think anyone will listen to you or, uh, believe you. I want you to know that I will. You don't even have to say anything. You could draw me a picture of what you saw that day, with your dad, on the lake." Lucas doesn't respond in any way. "Okay, no problem. This is for you." Y/N holds out to Lucas the picture she drew of five stick figures. "This is my family, she says, pointing at each person in turn. "That's my dad. That's my mom. That's my geek brother. This is my other brother, the stubborn one, and that's me." Y/N pauses, lightly chuckling to herself. "All right, so I'm out of practice." She gives Lucas one last gentle smile as she stands up. "I'll see you around, Lucas." Y/N heads back to Sam, Andrea, and Dean. Lucas picks up the picture. She approaches the three on the bench.

"Lucas hasn't said a word, not even to me. Not since his dad's accident."

"Yeah, we heard. Sorry," Dean says, and Andrea nods.

"What are the doctors saying?" Y/N asks.

"That's a kind of post-traumatic stress."

"That can't be easy. For either of you."

"We move in with my dad. He helps out a lot. It's just...when I think about what Lucas went through, what he saw..."

"Kids are strong. You'd be surprised at what they can deal with," Y/N says. Lucas leaves the bench, heading to the group.

"You know, he used to have such a life. He was hard to keep up with, to tell you the truth. Now he just sits there. Drawing those pictures and playing with those army men. I just wish." Lucas walks up, carrying a picture. "Hey, sweetie," Lucas hands Y/N the picture.

"Thanks. Thanks, Lucas" It's a picture of the Carlton house, and with that, Lucas heads back to the bench.

Dean and Y/N are inside the motel; Dean is sitting on the bed, and Y/N is on the chair. Sam opens the door and comes in.

"So, I think it's safe to say we can rule out Nessie."

"What do you mean?" Sam sits next to Dean, and Y/N pulls her chair closer.

"I just drove past the Carlton house. There was an ambulance there. Will Carlton is dead."

"He drowned?" Y/N asks.

"Yup. In the sink."

"What the hell? So, you're right, this isn't a creature. We're dealing with something else.".

"Yeah, but what?"

"I don't know. Water wraith, maybe? Some kind of demon? I mean, something that controls water—water that comes from the same source.".

"The lake"

"Yeah"

"Which would explain why it's increasing the body count? The lake is draining. It'll be dry in a few months. Whatever this thing is, whatever it wants, it's running out of time."

"And if it can get through the pipes, it can get to anyone, almost anywhere." Dean stands up. "This is going to happen again soon." Dean sits down on another chair.

"And we do know one other thing for sure. We know this has something to do with Bill Carlton.

"Yeah, it took both his kids."

"And I've been asking around. Lucas's dad, Chris, is Bill Carlton's godson.

"Let's go pay Mr. Carlton a visit.".

#older sister winchester #Supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom #reader insert

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alex-just-vibing · 2 years

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Fuck you I'm gonna make sdr2 survivor incorrect quotes and none of you can stop me (spoiler warning for who survives)

Hajime: Don’t stay up all night, Akane. Last time you got this sleep-deprived, you tried to eat your own shirt.

Akane: When you work at lush and a customer comes in and bites the soap because they think it’s cheese... this happens way more frequently than you think. Kazuichi: If you stopped literally presenting soap as deli food this wouldn't happen. Akane: Who goes into a bath store and thinks something covered in glitter is cheese? Hajime: Who goes to the store and just takes a bite from the cheese?

Hajime: I just want someone to take me out. Kazuichi: On a date? Sonia: With a sniper gun? Fuyuhiko: Both if you're not a coward.

Fuyuhiko, holding a rock: Kazuichi just gave this to me and said "I feel like you deserve the moon but all I can give you is a rock". Hajime: If you don't marry them, I will.

Hajime: What do you do when someone offers you drugs? Kazuichi: Take them! Akane: Punch them in the neck! Sonia: Say thank you! Fuyuhiko: Offer them more drugs to assert dominance! Hajime: … Hajime: No.

Hajime: I’m telling you, my team is competent. Sonia, rushing in: Hajime! Kazuichi tried to make pasta in the coffee pot and now it's broken!

Akane: As someone who has a long history of not understanding anything, I feel confident in my ability to continue not knowing what is going on.

Akane: If you spell skeletons backwards, it still spells skeletons. Hajime, deadpan: Wow, I can't wait for Halloween to see some snoteleks.

Kazuichi: If I run and leap at Hajime, he will most certainly catch me in his arms. Kazuichi, running towards Hajime: Coming in! Hajime: No! I’m holding coffee! Hajime: *Drops coffee and catches Kazuichi*

Fuyuhiko, at the slightest provocation: I came into this earth screaming and covered in someone else's blood and and I'm not afraid to leave the same way.

Akane: If you put a milkshake in one yard and crack open a cold one in another yard, which yard would the boys go to? Kazuichi: Schrödinger's boys. Hajime: FUCK! Sonia: What about cracking open a cold milkshake? Fuyuhiko: As we all know, the milkshake brings the boys to the yard. The presence of the boys is a prerequisite for the cracking open of a cold one, but cold ones do not have any inherent boy-attracting abilities. Milkshakes, however, do. Fuyuhiko: All else being equal, the boys would proceed to the milkshake yard. While it is possible to announce the presence of cold ones in the hope of attracting some boys, the pull of the milkshake is much more powerful by comparison. Akane: ... Kazuichi: ... Hajime: ... Sonia: ... Fuyuhiko: Mind you, all of this nonsense hinges on whether or not the boys are back in town.

Kazuichi: BWWAAAAAAAAAA! Oh, you hear that? That's the wrong opinion alarm. Fuyuhiko: That is not something you actually have installed. Kazuichi: Sorry, say again? I couldn't hear you over my alarm that YOU SET OFF with your WRONG-ASS OPINION

Hajime: Two brooooos! Kazuichi: Chillin' in a hot tub! Hajime: Five feet apart 'cause we're not gay! Kazuichi: Hajime: Kazuichi: *tearing up* Hajime: Babe, c'mon... Kazuichi: AND HERE YOU REALLY HAD ME THINKING WE HAD SOMETHING. Hajime: Babe...

Kazuichi, Entering Fuyuhiko's room: Akane did it again. Fuyuhiko: Peace disturbance? Kazuichi: What no- Fuyuhiko: Arson..? Kazuichi: NO, JESUS CHRIST, HOW MANY- Fuyuhiko: uh....Attempted murder? Kazuichi: NO, SHE ATE ALL THE FOOD IN THE FRIDGE, BUT WHAT THE FU-

Kazuichi: Hey random, what are your favorite flowers? Hajime: Peonies, why? Kazuichi: Hajime: Were you going to get me flowers? Kazuichi: Hajime: Kazuichi: ᶦᵗ’ˢ ᵃ ᵖᵒˢˢᶦᵇᶦˡᶦᵗʸ

Hajime: Bottling up negative emotions is bad for your health, so you shouldn't do it. Fuyuhiko: I know, that's why I bottle up all my emotions, both positive and negative, so it cancels out. Hajime: Th-that's not how that works-

Akane, setting down a card: Ace of spades. Fuyuhiko, pulling out an Uno card: +4. Hajime, pulling out a Pokémon card: Jolteon, I choose you! Kazuichi, trembling: What are we playing?!

Akane: Would you like something to drink? *She opens the fridge* We have water, milk, juice, spiders, Dr. Pepper- Kazuichi: Spiders? Akane: Spiders it is then. Kazuichi: No, that wasn’t- *But she were already pouring them a brimming glass of spiders…*

Hajime: I swear to god I'm the only one here with a braincell. Sonia, Kazuichi, Fuyuhiko, and Akane: ALL HAIL the keeper of the sacred braincell!

Akane, knocking on the door: Kazuichi, open up! Kazuichi: It all started when I was a kid. Akane: That’s not what I- Fuyuhiko: Let him finish!

Sonia: Fuyuhiko doesn’t look very happy. Hajime: That's his happy. He's just a bitch.

Hajime: BEHOLD, the field in which I grow my fucks! Lay thine eyes upon it, and thou shalt see that it is barren!

Akane: How is the most beautiful person in the world? Sonia: *blushing* I— Hajime, butting into the conversation: Kaz is perfect, thanks for asking.

Fuyuhiko, grinning: I have a knife! Sonia: Put it down, Fuyuhiko. Fuyuhiko: Make me! *sprints away*

Kazuichi: Are you an F5 key? Because that ass is refreashing. Hajime: Are you a software update? because not right now.

Kazuichi: It's pretty cold outside.. wanna hold hands? We should stay close. Hajime, blushing: Okay. Fuyuhiko: It's fucking summer.

Akane: *sees Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko together* Akane: They're cute. I would put them on a boat. Hajime: You mean... you ship them?

Hajime: *speaking Spanish* Kazuichi: I know, I know. Fuyuhiko: You speak Spanish? Kazuichi: No. I just know the phrase, 'this is all your fault' in every language Hajime speaks.

Kazuichi: Look, I know you think my judgement's clouded because I like Hajime a little bit. Fuyuhiko, holding Kazuichi's notepad: You doodled your wedding invitation. Kazuichi: No, that's our joint tombstone. Fuyuhiko: My mistake.

Kazuichi: The last time I went to an urgent care clinic, I checked off 'excessive crying' on the symptom list, and then the nurse got really confused and said that was meant for babies.

Fuyuhiko: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life. Kazuichi: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind? Fuyuhiko: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die. Hajime: Edible.

Hajime: Yo! I heard you like reptiles, got any fun facts? Kazuichi: If a crocodile eats your dad, they become your new dad.

Hajime: Are you the big spoon or the little spoon? Fuyuhiko: I'm a knife. Kazuichi, from across the room: He's the little spoon.

Kazuichi: The greatest trick the devil ever played was getting me banned from an all you can eat pizza buffet. Fuyuhiko: Why’d you get banned? Kazuichi: Touched the rat. Fuyuhiko: … What rat? Kazuichi: Chunky Cheese.

Kazuichi: We have a problem. Hajime: No, YOU have a problem. I have an idiot who keeps making them.

Hajime: Why is Kaz crying? Fuyuhiko: They saw a leaf on the sidewalk and- Kazuichi: IT LOOKED SO CRUNCHY! Hajime: Please don’t say what I think you’re gonna say- Kazuichi: AND WHEN I STEPPED ON IT THERE WAS NO CRUNCH! Hajime: NO, NOT THAT!

Fuyuhiko: You shouldn't be using a straw. Kazuichi: I know, I know, it's bad for the environment and stuff. Fuyuhiko: Yeah, but I mean... it's a weird way to eat spaghetti.

Fuyuhiko, pointing to the wall: What color is this? Kazuichi: Gray. Sonia: Grey. Fuyuhiko, turning to Akane: Now tell them what color you think it is. Akane: Dark white.

Sonia: Would you slap Kazuichi- Hajime: Yes. Sonia: I didn't even finish! Hajime: Sorry, continue. Sonia: Would you slap Kazuichi for 10 dollars? Hajime: I would do it for free. Kazuichi: Rude...

Kazuichi: This date is boring! Fuyuhiko: This isnt a date. I said I was going to the store. Kazuichi: Then why did you invite me? Fuyuhiko: I didnt, I specifically said "dont come with me" then you said " fuck you Fuyuhiko I'll do whatever I want!

*Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko playing minecraft* Kazuichi: Oh no, oh no, oh no- Fuyuhiko: What’s wrong? Kazuichi: I did a thing. Fuyuhiko: You regret the thing you dID- Kazuichi: *screams* Fuyuhiko: What the fuck did you do- *sees mass of aggravated Piglin* Damn it- Kazuichi: *screams again*

Kazuichi: We’ll find another route, it’s not safe for amateur adventurers. Akane: That sounds like a challenge. Kazuichi: I have to stress, that is not a challenge. Akane: ...Is exactly what you say to dissuade the weak of heart from accepting the challenge. Well, challenge accepted! Kazuichi: There is no challenge!

Kazuichi: *Locks Fuyuhiko in the car.* Look like a child, get treated like a child. Fuyuhiko: What? Isn't it illegal to leave a child locked in a car?

Kazuichi: Is the pink panther a lion? Hajime: Say that again but slower. Kazuichi: I don’t get it. Hajime: He’s a PANTHER. Kazuichi: Is that a type of lion? Hajime: No, it’s a fucking panther. Kazuichi: *googles panther* They aren’t pink? Hajime: AND LIONS ARE?!

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whatthehelliswrongwithme · 3 years

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Voltron Part 19

I know, that at the end of season 3, I wanted Shiro to not only be a cheerleader. But not like this.Not like this!!! Well, here's season 4 episodes 3+4:

Hey, Alteans being chameleons was finally acknowledged again! Thanks, space witch!

No, Matt. Please. No. Don't be a horndog. You're the nerdy, older brother. I just learned to tolerate Lance. Please don't be him

If I know Fandom, there's probably at least some Matt/Shiro ship-art

Zarkon don't be an ass towards space witch

They kept the cow?!? Also do Allura and moustache man not understand the concept of animals?

It's so cute seeing Pidge be the excited, proud younger sibling

Lotor's position really sucks. He's the heir to a throne, he'll never receive

Also he really hates his parents

Hunk getting a suprising amount of screentime this episode. Good for him

Did Lance's PJ slippers come with the castle?Did he make them himself?

What is this fucking subplot of them trying to get a milkshake???!!!

Lance's milkshakes bring all the boys to the yard

How is space witch watching through Furry's eyes, when she doesn't even have eyes?

And Wow! They really don't understand that whole "Family"-thing AT ALL...

Nooooooo! Not Furry!!!!!! Lotor you stupid-ass bitch!!!!!!!!!

I ~kinda~ liked him before, but now I'm just hoping that the remaining members of his girlsquad get together and kill him

Okay, can this please be a normal slice-of-life episode?

"Allura, you'll play Keith" -> immediate disgust

Lance is way too into acting. Was he a theater-kid? He feels like a theater-kid

Moustache man don't do space drugs. They're probably not good for you

They really Power-Rangered their show up. Next thing you'll know, Allura will kick a laserbeam in half

And now they're Disney on ice!

Lance don't fuck the lady worms

Hunk being reduced to comedy, Pidge and him being bystanders until it's time to form Voltron. Shiro being the Sexbomb ("Put on this super tight shirt")

This episode feels too self-aware

Moustache man would watch the fuck out of 'Dance-Moms'

"You'll never work in showbuisiness again. Except for you Shiro. You're our most popular character" STOoooooP! I feel called out

What was this episode?!?! Why did they put it immediatly after Furry's death??

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bebepac · 4 years

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Food Fail (Happy Birthday Robin! 2020)

This is the first time I’ve ever written a birthday Fic and it’s in honor of a friend of mine @dcbbw !!!! Happy Birthday my friend!!!!!!

When I first joined the fandom back in January, when I was searching for fics to read, she was one of the first people when I searched that came across. I started reading her stories. When I wanted to write my own, and was nervous and anxious, she helped give me the confidence to write.

She’s a very talented writer, and is incredibly humble. I am happy to call you my friend. I really hope you have a wonderful day today.

So I wrote this about a food you do not like. SUSHI. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!!!

I hope you enjoy it. See what I did there. LOL!!!!!!

I used my characters from Pops Place, as you can tell.

I also used @shitthepizza About Pizza prompt # 5: “I am always in the mood for pizza,” which will appear in bold.

Jaiden Brooks is my own character, all other characters belong to Pixelberry.

This is not the next chapter of Pops Place. But it fits into the series. To check out the series Pop's Place Masterlist

Summary: Mia goes out with the gang for dinner.

Warnings: Profanity. That’s pretty much it.

Word Count: 1202

Tagging: @queenjilian @bbrandy2002 @indiacater @janezillow @islandcrow @mom2000aggie @gkittylove99 @gabesmommie1130 @sophie-and-shizuku @kingliam2019 @queenwalton @cordonia-gothqueen @texaskitten30 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @lodberg @hopefulmoonobject @kimmiedoo5 @sanchita012 @mrsdrakewalkerblog @cordonianroyalty @batgirlassociationofgothamcity @hopelessromanticmonie @marietrinmimi @blueaster-blog1 @lovablegranny @ac27dj @classylady1234 @loudbluebirdlover @atha68 @nikkis1983 @furiousherringoperatortoad @sevenfuckslefttogive @ladyangel70 @burnsoslow @axwalker @debramcg1106 @marshmallowsandfire @choicesficwriterscreations

Song Inspiration for this fic: “Milkshake” by Kelis

https://youtu.be/pGL2rytTraA

I don’t own rights to the music. or quoted lyrics later on.

"Hey if you want to, you and Daniel can meet me at Pop's and we can ride together downtown."

"Oh my GOD Jaiden thanks!!! I absolutely hate driving in downtown Raleigh with all the one way streets and parallel parking."

"But Mia, you seriously have the smallest car in the world to parallel park."

"It's North Carolina, not New York, no one parallel parks here, you pull in. I didn't have to parallel park for my driving test."

"Well I'm from New York and we parallel park."

"Well you go right ahead Mr. New Yorker!"

"Then I will show you how it's done Miss Southern Belle, after we …. He cleared his throat and continued in the worst southern drawl ever, “drink sweet tea and eat apple cobbler in the parlor Ma'am.”

Mia burst out laughing.

“Shut up! You know I’m not like that, and I definitely don’t sound like that.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t understand your dialect.”

“YOU TALKING TO ME?” Mia said in her best Robert De Niro voice.

Daniel looked at the two of them bickering back and forth. He looked surprised.

“Hmmm… that was pretty good.” Jaiden said to her nodding. “You could get by in the city with that.”

“Thank you.” Mia flashed him a smile.

“So, I'll pick you guys up around 6:20?"

"That's perfect."

When they were in the car. She kept noticing Daniel staring at her.

“Whaaaaat?”

“Um… so are you going to tell me what that was, or do I have to guess?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Girl…..“

“Daniel What?!?!?!”

“Are you and Jaiden a thing?”

“Uh no. We’re just friends.”

Daniel gave her a look.

“I don’t flirt with my friends like that.” Daniel raised his eyebrow at Mia again.

“We were not flirting.”

“You two are definitely something-ing because, I could cut the tension with a machete.”

“Nuh uh.. It’s not even like that Daniel.”

“I’m just saying Mia, you need a theme song for this summer, and I got just the one.”

Mia smirked at him.

“Mia’s milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, and they’re like, it’s better than yours, damn right it’s better than yours, I could teach you, but I have to charge.”

“Okay Daniel.”

“You better wear something cute for your bae.”

“He’s not my Bae.”

“Okay, then he’s a friend that definitely wants to see you naked. Girl, can I live vicariously through you this summer? Cuz you’re pulling all the men so far.”

“Yeah and they all the winners, “Drake: I have a long distance girlfriend, but yeah let’s hang out too, and Liam: Mr. I’m pretty sure you did something shady to get me to look your way and discredit Drake but he screwed that up on his own.”

“And Leo: Mr. I have given you a nickname but no one else can use it, and let’s get you crazy drunk.”

“Okay… already let’s get you home so we can get ready and get back for dinner.”

When they arrived back right around 6:15, they pulled up seeing Jaiden leaning against his jeep.

As they walked up to Jaiden’s jeep she heard Daniel softly singing.

“La - la - la - la - laaaaaa… the boy is waiting….”

She punched Daniel.

“Should I even ask?” Jaiden looked at the two of them.

“No you should not.”

He opened the door for Mia letting her get into the car.

“Your jeep is nice.”

“Thanks, it took me getting straight A’s and graduating 3rd in my class to get it.”

“So you’ll be at Cordonia U in the fall then?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you live in Prestonwoods.”

“Yeah, I don’t get all that you’re either Prestonwoods or you’re everyone else crap. We actually toured both. I liked Hartfeld better. That’s where I’ll be this fall.”

“Me too.”

“Cool.” He glanced in Mia’s direction. Mia was wearing a red dress and white sandals. She looked really cute.

“Watch and learn Mia.”

Jaiden flawlessly parallel parked between two cars.

“Am I supposed to be impressed?”

“You know what… I’m locking you in the car. I’ll go enjoy dinner with Daniel. You’ll have air and sadness for dinner Mia.” Jaiden laughed. Mia couldn’t help her smile on her face.

“Oh my god!!!! Air and Sadness?!?! I really like you Jaiden. You put her in her place.” Daniel chuckled. “Mia needs a guy that is as funny as she is.”

Daniel noticed them both stare at each other in silence.

Yep… he thought… there are definite sparks there.

“I’ll get the door for you Mia.”

“Where are we meeting everyone at? I’m starving.”

“Sushi Blues Cafe.”

“Sushi…. As in raw fish?”

“There are cooked sushi rolls. Have you had sushi?”

“I’ve never tried it.. I like my fish fried and battered, with tartar sauce, and either lemon juice or vinegar, thanks to Pops.”

“So I’ll get a Philadelphia roll, it’s cooked with smoked salmon, avocado, cream cheese. Most people who are newbies to sushi like it. So I'll share mine with you. I’ll get two so if you like it, you can have your own.”

When they got into the restaurant the only seats left were on the end of the table. Daniel sat in the next to the last seat, and Mia sat on the end being left handed, and Jaiden sat across from her. She noticed everyone else was there. Hana, Penelope, Maxwell, Olivia, Leo, Rashad, Neville, and Liam. No Drake. He probably doesn’t do Sushi. Can’t blame him. They passed out menus. Mia looked nervous. She ordered a green tea, and when the server came back for her food order, she couldn’t remember what roll Jaiden said he was going to get.

“She’s with me,” Jaiden said. “We’ll get two philly rolls.”

She smiled at him. “Thank you,” she mouthed to him.

“You’re welcome.” he whispered back.

She stared at her plate.

She poked a piece of the sushi.

“It’s not going to attack you, Mia.”

“And this is cooked?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you like spicy stuff?”

“Not really.”

“So that green stuff, stay away from that then. That’s wasabi.”

“Ginger?”

“Meh…”

“Yeah, we won’t mess with that either then.”

“So put some soy sauce on a piece.”

Mia mimicked him.

“And just one big bite. Eat it.”

He popped it in his mouth and chewed.

“It’s good, now your turn.”

Mia did as he did. She dry heaved.

Jaiden almost fell out of his chair, because of the look on Mia’s face. It was clear…. Mia was not a fan of sushi. Both Jaiden and Daniel both were roaring in laughter.

“Chew it up, or spit it out. Do something Mia!!!!”

Liam looked in their direction in all the ruckus they were causing. Liam wished he was sitting with Mia, they looked to be having so much fun.

Mia managed to swallow the piece of sushi.

“Want another then?” Jaiden asked seriously for a second, then burst into laughter again.

“No thanks. I’d almost would have rather had the air and sadness, you offered earlier.”

When it was time to leave and the check was passed out, Jaiden paid for Mia’s share even though she didn’t really eat anything.

They walked down the street together.

“So… how about a pizza?” Jaiden asked.

“I’m always in the mood for pizza.”

“Let’s go get you some dinner then Mia.”

Mia smiled as Jaiden led the way back to his vehicle.

#bebepac writes #usually drama #not today #pops place #birthday fic #trr fanfic #trr fandom #trr mc #trr mc x oc #trr daniel

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chxmpionofjustice · 3 years

Text

The school day had ended, mercifully, and Usagi was more than ready to get out of there. The afternoon was young and she had a standing date with a strawberry milkshake and some arcade games that she was looking forward to.

She, Makoto, and Minako had met Ami and Naru at the shoe lockers, where Usagi eagerly swapped into her Mary Janes. After that she was all but urging her friends to hurry up, dancing excitedly at the doorway as she waited and groused “Come on guyssss!” until they finally joined her and left the school.

“Oi, Tsukino!” A voice called out to her from the entryway behind her and Usagi, as well as her friends, turned back expectantly, pausing mid-step and mid-conversation. She recognized the boy calling out to her, mostly through association. Itto Ryusei. He was fairly popular and she could understand why. He seemed like he was always in a good mood, smiling and laughing with his friends. People liked him. He was from another class in her grade and while she’d never really held a full conversation with him, she’d been introduced through friends of friends.

Actually, now that she thought of it, the boy who’d introduced her never really hung out with him...

“Hey, Itto-kun.” She greeted politely as he jogged up to her group. He was smiling at her so she smiled back, but she didn’t exactly know what was going on.

“Tsukino, could I, uh, can I talk with you for a minute?” His gaze left hers and swept over the group around her (who were no doubt catching onto what he was planning), cataloging them before jumping back to her, “Alone?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” She replied, glancing toward her friends who were looking at her with wide eyes (Ami specifically seemed to be turning red), “You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up or meet you there.”

“You sure Usa?” Makoto asked, the first to speak up.

She nodded, smiling encouragingly, “I don’t want you guys to have to wait on me. And we all know I can catch up no problem.” She added with a giggle.

Minako, who had been eying Itto silently with a quirked brow, opened her mouth, but was pulled away by Makoto, who had started following Naru toward the gates along with Ami. Naru kept glancing back, a bit eager to start discussing just what was transpiring between Usagi and Itto as soon as they were out of earshot.

Usagi had turned back to Itto, perking up a bit expectantly as he kind of just... looked at her?

“Uh... Itto-kun?”

He startled, “Oh! Right, uh...” He glanced around the front yard before asking her to follow him. She did, noticing that his usual group of friends seemed to be watching with great interest as they walked to the side of the building.

“I’m not really used to doing this part,” He mused once they were alone, rubbing the back of his neck a little awkwardly, “Usually when we’re introduced, the girl comes after me.” He turned to face her, “But you didn’t.”

“Huh?” Come after him? What was this? A game of tag?

“I actually noticed you on Orientation Day. When you got your foot caught in the decoration-”

She immediately turned red and covered her face because it was bad enough that it happened and it happened in front of everyone, but now he was bringing it up-

“The way you laughed it off afterward, you were really cute.”

What? Her hands dropped, her jaw going slack as she stared up at him, blue eyes widening in her shock. This wasn’t... This wasn’t what she thought it was, was it? Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no!

“I was hoping we’d be in the same class, but we weren’t... So I got Nishimura to introduce me to you because I wanted to meet you and get to know you. Because, well... I like you, Tsukino.”

Oh god, she was being confessed to?! Her of all people?! Her face felt like it was burning at this point, she must have been so red that she looked related to the strawberries she loved so much.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is... Will you go out with me?”

She floundered for words internally and her indecision was clear on her face as she stood before him. Her? Why her? Didn’t everyone already know she was taken? She had assumed that it was common knowledge because Mamoru had even picked her up a few times. And yet here they were.

“I-Itto-kun...” She stuttered, loathing that what she had to say would upset him. Her expression softened sympathetically and she fiddled absently with her skirt, trying to keep her hands preoccupied so she wouldn’t fidget, “I-I know that must have been really hard to do. And you’re brave for doing it, but... I’m sorry, I can’t accept your feelings.”

He seemed taken aback by that, as it clearly wasn’t what he’d been expecting to hear and he blurted out, “You’re rejecting me?”

She winced, really not liking that phrase at all, “I have a boyfriend already, Itto--”

He took a step toward her, his voice a little desperate when he interrupted her, “But he doesn’t go here, right?”

She paused, blinked at him in confusion as her brows furrowed. “You knew?”

His hand came up, rubbing the back of his neck again in the same awkward gesture, his eyes avoiding hers now. “W-well... Yeah but... I thought I’d try anyway, you know?”

She was quiet for a moment, gaze dropping to the ground as she let that sink in. She then nodded slightly, some tension leaving her her. So people did know. That was a relief.

“Right...” She released her hem from her grip and smoothed down her skirt before looking up at him again. She smiled, still sympathetic, but with a trace of optimism, “It must have been really difficult then, to say that. I’m not going to break up with my boyfriend any time soon though... So I have to say no. But, I hope that we can be friends instead. I’d really like that.”

“F-friends?”

“Yeah, friends! You might not be up for it now, and that’s okay. I understand. But I’d really like to be friends with you when you’re ready, okay?”

He nodded mutely, his own cheeks tinging pink as he avoided her eyes again and after that, she offered him a piece of candy (”Eating always helps people feel better!”) and left, running off with a friendly wave back to him.

She caught up to the girls very quickly and only slightly out of breath. And the moment she did, they accosted her for details as only friends could.

#idk where this came from #it just did #drabble;;#v: main;;#v: dream arc;;

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divineluce · 4 years

Text

Tickled Ink || Darwin & Luce

Timing: May 6th, 2020

Location: Ink, Inc.

Tagging: @wardinasrani

Notes: Darwin comes in to get an old tattoo touched up and Luce is happy to provide. Not a single heterosexual character was involved in the making of this chatzy.

Tapping her stylus against the edge of the desk, Luce stared at the design on her computer for a long time. It was as good as it was going to get, honestly. The design wasn’t one of her favorites, but the girl who had requested it was very insistent on it. She wanted a half realistic, half geometric butterfly with geometric pieces kinda flying off the geometric side. Had Luce argued with her that it would make an awful piece? No, of course not. She liked getting paid. But, it was going to be a fucking awful time. Booting up her printer, she set the stencil to start printing and wandered out of her room to the lobby. Rory was walking a client through paperwork, but she waved at him all the same. “Your 3 o clock, the butterfly girl? Yeah, she had to reschedule.” The receptionist said. Rolling her eyes, Luce sighed. “Figures. I’ve still got that booking at 6 though, right?” She said before confirming that her evening was booked up. Ugh. She’d put all that fucking work in just to have the girl flake on her. Better for her to get cold feet about it now than when she was getting it zapped away with a laser, though. As Luce scrutinized the schedule, the bell to the shop jangled loudly and she waved offhandedly.

Getting lost had become part of Darwin's daily routine by now. Inevitable when he was still so new to the town, but a hassle nonetheless. On the bright side, it often lead him to discover small little gems, and this time his wandering had led him to stand in front of a small tattoo parlor. “Ink Inc., mh? Catchy, if a bit uninspired.” Yet the place looked clean enough. Darwin lifted his shirt, just enough to glimpse at the faded tattoo on his hip. How long had it been since he'd gotten that protective symbol? Ten years? Twelve? Time, and one too many scuffles with stubborn demons who just wouldn't go back to their own dimension had taken their toll on the ward, to the point where now it had probably lost all its protective properties. Darwin looked at the parlor. “Guess it's time for a little update,” he mumbled to himself before opening the door and just strolling into the parlor as if he owned the place. Without sparing a glance to the woman in the lobby, his eyes drifted immediately to the drawings hanging on the wall. A good protective tattoo needed to be perfect to be effective, so Darwin took his sweet time studying the sketches and pictures. Good lines, a firm hand. Definitely professionals. Nodding to himself with satisfaction he finally turned to the woman, studying her with the same attention he'd given to the works on the wall. Lots of ink on her skin, too, which meant she knew her way around tattoos. His mind made up, Darwin waved at her with a dramatic flourish. “Greetings! I'm here for my appointment.” He had no appointment, of course, but someone probably did, and Darwin was willing to bet their design wasn't nearly as essential as updating his own protective ward.

Luce was no stranger to people coming in and straight up ignoring her-- usually it was because they were too nervous, sometimes it was because they were on their phone, which was hilarious and stupid. But this dude waltzed in like he owned the place, staring at the different art displays around the main lobby. Leaning against the reception desk, she watched as his eyes focused on a couple of her own designs. And when his gaze turned to her, Luce folded her arms across her chest, her sleeve tattoos on prominent display. She met his eyes with an unyielding, unimpressed stare of her own. If this was meant to be some kind of sizing her up thing, she’d been through this before. So many shitty big ass biker dudes had thought that she was some kind of hack, that she couldn’t handle being a tattoo artist. But, they changed their mind real quick once they were in the chair. At his words, Luce lifted an eyebrow. “Mhm, three o clock right? I’ve got your design all drawn up. You wanted the butterfly on the lower back, right, Julia?” She said, her lips curling into a grin.

“Yes, three o'clock, quite right, sorry I'm a little late. Glad you can accommodate my-” Luckily for once in his life Darwin actually managed to listen to what someone else said and he stopped himself in time. He couldn't help but frown a little. He could understand the Julia, many people had described him as flamboyant and Darwin himself had used worse fake names than that, but... “I like to think that if I ever were to get a tramp stamp I'd be able to come up with something more original than a butterfly. Maybe a Barghe-- A wolf skull, with flames coming from its eye sockets and an elaborate rose growing from its mouth.” Sarcasm and indignation wrestled on his face for a second, and then he settled for a short sigh as he took out his phone and glanced at it. “Well, it's already 3.15... I'm guessing Julia stood you up. Care for a replacement?”

“Oh, but it’s a very pretty butterfly. With shards of glass everywhere. Very cute. Sure to bring all the boys to the yard.” Luce said, her grin growing at the man balking at the idea. “Oh, yeah, something as original as a flaming wolf skull and a rose?” She said and tilted her head to one of the art pieces on the wall behind her-- the rose wasn’t growing from the wolf’s mouth, but the wolf skull had fiery eye sockets and was surrounded by roses. She’d done it for Ulf shortly after he’d told her about his wolfy heritage, just to keep it around. “Mhm, fair point. You got a name, not Julia? I’m Luce.” She said, holding out a hand for him. She liked the opportunity to work with someone who could be taken down a peg. Or, at the very least, someone who she could have an amusing back and forth with. Having a chatty client made it more fun when she stabbed them full of needles and ink.

Darwin glanced at the piece and let out a long sigh, burying his face in his hand. “Alas, there goes my new tattoo. Can't have something so similar to another one, imagine the embarrassment if we ever attended the same cocktail party.” After what he deemed an adequate dramatic pause he grabbed Luce's hand and bent down in what looked like a kiss to the hand. His lips never touched the woman's skin, but the smile he flashed up at her oozed charm. Or at least, that's what he liked to think. “Darwin Asrani, it's a pleasure.” He gently let go of Luce, but his eyes lingered once more on her art. “I like your style, and I'd hate to walk out without taking a little bit of your talent with me. Since my first idea was already taken could I bother you for some touch-ups instead? And perhaps we could schedule something new and original for my next visit. I'm thinking a well-dressed dinosaur drinking the blood of his enemies from a fancy teacup. That way people will know that I'm majestic, refined and dangerous.”

“Oh, no. I’m sure it’d send everyone into a panic to be seen with the same tramp stamp. Whatever will people at the country club think?” Luce said with an exaggerated fanning motion, as though she was some kind of fainting Southern belle. When he reached out to grab her hand, she stared at him, both amused and very much ready to knee this man in the face. But, he never kissed her hand-- which, good fucking thing. Anita, kissing her hand? Totally fun and gay and great. This rando? Sexual harassment. As he looked up at her, Luce pulled her hand away and shook her head. “Luce, can’t say the same.” She said, but her tone was joking. This guy was batshit, but in the fun kind of way. She could fuck with that, no hetero. As he continued to spout out bullshit, Luce couldn’t help but laugh. “Sounds like you’ve got a real winner of an idea there. But why not up the ante and make him drinking straight up poison out of the cup? You know, to show that you can’t be fucked with. Go big or go home, you know?”

“Can't say the same yet,” Darwin corrected her with a confident smirk. “I'm sure you'll find plenty of pleasure in stinging me over and over while I'm on that torture chair of yours.” Truth be told, he appreciated the woman's quick wit: it would be a great distraction. Darwin was no stranger to pain, but he wasn't too keen on it either, and he wouldn't be able to face himself if he started to whimper like a whiny puppy once she had her tools out. Good conversation would help with that, maybe he'd be able to leave the parlor with his dignity, as well as with a retouched tattoo. Darwin stroked his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Poison it is, but it'll have to drink it from a bendy straw. Otherwise all the boys will be too intimidated to really come to my yard, and that would be a tragedy.” He nodded solemnly, and quickly added “But that seems like the sort of design that would require a couple of drafts at least, we can't rush art. So for today I think I'll just have you work on what I already have, if that's alright?”

“Someone thinks highly of himself. But, you’ve got a point there. Not as sharp as mine, but a point all the same.” Luce said, matching his smile with one of her own, with a wink thrown in for good measure. “Oh, in that case, we should change it to a milkshake glass. Just to really make sure the boys aren’t confused.” When the conversation turned to the real reason he walked into the shop, she leaned against the wood of the desk and scrutinized him, trying to see if the art in question was anywhere visible. But, it didn’t seem like it was the case. With a nod, she drummed her hands on the counter top. “What sorta shit are you looking to get done? Cover up, touch up, extension of your piece? I can roll with anything, just know my next appointment is in a couple of hours. So if it goes long, we’ll have to schedule a second session.” She warned, knowing that some people didn’t like the idea of having to come in twice to get work done. But, that was the price of a walk-in.

“Cherry milkshake, then. It'll look like blood. Plus, it's my favorite.” Darwin said that last part as if he was sharing some deep personal secret. Which wasn't that far off from the truth, only Bertrand and a couple more were aware of his sweet tooth. Then his whole posture changed, and the hint of a playful grin on his face made way to a serious expression. “I need it to be perfect. Two, three, take seven whole weeks if you need to, but it has to be flawless. Matter of life or death.” Namely, his own life or death: relying on a defective protective tattoo had cost more than a couple hours of time to members of his family that were too careless to care. Quickly he lifted his shirt up, letting Luce look at the tattoo on his hip. The size of a closed fist, it was a protection symbol that'd been passed down his family for generation, each Asrani adding his own personal touch. Sanskrit symbols formed a small circle surrounding some other runes intertwined together. The Sanskrit prayer protected his mind from demonic invasions, the runes made it harder for them to interfere with his own magic during the summoning. It wasn't pretty, but it was effective, and any magic user worth their salt would recognize it was more than just some ice-breaker to use in a bar to pick up guys: while the full scope of the tattoo might be a mystery, it was obvious it had power. Or used to have: the black ink was faded with time, and a small scar that suspiciously looked like a claw mark had touched, albeit barely, the edge of the tattoo, interrupting some of the lines. “Do it well, and you’ll have my official permission to call me Julia till the end of time.”

Normally, if a dude decided to flash her in the shop, Luce would have wasted no time in kicking his ass out the door. And Ulfric had even let her get those brand new swords, just for that purpose. But, when her eyes fell on the intricate design, the symbols written in either Arabic or Sanskrit-- the two were difficult to distinguish between with her untrained eyes-- and the very distinct rune that the letters formed… Luce knew exactly what this was, even if she didn’t know the specifics regarding it. This was a rune of protection and a very well done one at that. Her eyes widened as she took in how intricately and cleanly the line work was executed. The attention to detail was exquisite. “Done. Come on in to my room, we’ll get started right away.” She said, leading the way back to her private room of the shop. Her room looked just the same as ever, neat and organized, the large rolling toolbox that she used to hold her equipment tucked in the corner. The walls were decorated with a few shelves that had a couple candles, a polished citrine crystal, and some of her artwork. A pinboard, refreshed with new stencils filled one wall, the prices written on the edges of each paper. Shutting the door behind her, Luce pushed up the sleeve of her t-shirt, showing him the intricate geometric pattern she had tattooed on her skin, the center of which featured a very specific rune, one of fire and power. “You showed me yours, I’ll show you mine. The line work is incredible-- where’d you get it done?”

Darwin was usually good at keeping his reactions under control. Or rather, he often overreacted, but that was a choice, not a mistake. This time though the flash of surprise hadn't been planned, nor was the deep interest as he studied Luce's tattoo. He even raised his hand, one finger extended to trace the symbol on her arm. Luckily, he managed to stop himself in time. “That is remarkable.” While he wasn't an expert on elemental magic, fire was often a component in his rituals, and as such he knew enough to recognize the rune for what it was: authentic. Darwin wasn't sure of the specific purpose of it, but he knew it was... Some sort of catalyst, perhaps? Either way, that rune meant Luce either was a magic user, or knew someone. “What does it represent, exactly?” After a beat, he realized that answering her question with one of his own would not satisfy her, so Darwin quickly added. “Mine is... You could say it's something of a family tradition, really. The design has been passed down for generations. I added my own personal touch to it, because I firmly believe that, ah... Tattoos should be tailored to oneself. Otherwise they're just scribbling on skin, absolutely useless.” Again, a brief pause, where he cleared his throat. “As an ice-breaker, I mean. Obviously.”

When Darwin moved to trace the image etched into her skin, Luce’s eyes narrowed. Apparently this dude was a big tactile kinda guy. Whatever. She could let it slide, just because he seemed to think it was impressive. But, he stopped himself. Good for him. “Thanks. Drew it myself, and had one of the boys do the work. It’s impossible to tattoo yourself from that angle. It’s one of my foci, I use it to give myself a little extra oomph.” She said, rolling her sleeve back down to cover that specific area of her tattoo. Even to those who knew about magic, she had designed her rune in a way that made it nearly indistinguishable from the geometric pattern that surrounded it. A person would have to be familiar with magic and the symbols concerning fire to understand. And, even then, there were more than a few normal humans who walked around with runes they didn’t understand tattooed on her skin. “Hm.” A traditional rune of protection? She could understand why some people would want such a thing. It didn’t tell her anything about what kind of magic he did, only that he was in the business of keeping himself safe rather than channelling additional power. Interesting. “Very nice. And you know I can understand that. Tattoos are an extension of yourself. Family tradition or not, you should express your own personality within it.” She said with a nod before returning to her more businesslike demeanor. “A touch up for that bad boy of yours won’t be easy, but I do good work. I can guarantee nice, clean lines.”

Someone who knew what a focus was and used the right plural for it. If Darwin hadn't been so gay he would have fawned himself like an excited school-girl. Instead he settled for an impressed nod and another smile. He was dying to know more about her, to learn how much she actually knew, what she did... But it was dangerous: for all Darwin knew his family would eventually look for him, and he couldn't just trust the first magic-inclined person he met. Well, second one, but Winston spoke like a newbie, Darwin doubted they had any ties to the Asrani. So, in order to protect himself, Darwin decided for it'd be best to bring the focus back on the reason he was here, and luckily Luce seemed to share that idea. “Oh, I don't doubt your ability. What's more, you seem to know how crucial precision is with this kind of design, so... Just tell me where you want me and please, be careful. I'm ticklish.” Not one to usually follow orders, this time Darwin got himself into the mind frame of listening to each and every instruction she'd give. Then again looking at the various tools in the studio reminded him of exactly why he'd put it off for so long. Stupid needles. A sharp ceremonial knife across his arm never scared him, the pain only lasted a second and then he had rituals to focus on and distract him from it, but the chair of a tattoo-artist meant he'd have to feel each and every single sting. Safety be damned, he needed the distraction. “So, an extra oomph. Amber stones just weren't doing it for you? Most practitioners I've met tended to favor something less...” Traceable? Recognizable? “Permanent to channel their magic.”

“Sounds like a plan to me. Lie on back and I’ll get everything started.” Luce said, gesturing to the chair between them. “Take your shirt off too, can’t have it getting in the way.” She said as she got the needles, ink, and a fresh pair of gloves on. The business of touch ups wasn’t too difficult, not usually. But on something that was this precise, this delicate, she needed to make sure that she had everything just right. “Trust me, I know. It took a while before I found the right artist to do my sleeve and I made sure the guy’s hands were just as steady as mine. Precision matters for work like this.” She said as she pulled her long hair back in a ponytail. Snapping on some fresh gloves, she noted the apprehension on his face as she pulled out the tools of the trade, the individually packaged needles that sat on a sterile tray, her machine poised at the ready. Setting up her machine, she took out a spray bottle of sterile solution and wiped down the patch of skin that was to be her workspace. “Let’s get started, hm?” She nodded, switching on her machine. The familiar humming vibration filled the room and she set to work, tackling the biggest area of faded skin and ink first. “I’m not like most practitioners. Besides. My symbols blend in with my designs. I hide them in plain sight. Distract with the main design to keep the attention away from the purpose.”

Darwin did as he was told, taking off his shirt and carefully folding it before taking his place on the chair. He wasn't too concerned with the shirt itself, it was more an excuse to buy some time: just like the last time the sight of the needles made his knees a little weak and his face just a tad paler; he hoped she wouldn't notice. When she started the pain wasn't that bad. At first. But Darwin knew how these things went, it would only become worse, so he decided to just focus on Luce's words instead, drinking them in. “Smart. Misdirection is often a magician's best friend.” He tensed his stomach in discomfort, and he noticed that she seemed to anticipate that and stop her work, which put his mind at ease: she really was a professional. “Besides, in my experience the times you need... Ah, an extra oomph, as you put it, are often the times when you can't afford your focus to be swatted away. A crystal can be dropped, a tattoo... Not so much.” Again, he flinched, doing his best to hide the grimace behind another smile. “I could think of at least a dozen times that tattoo has saved my life, it's nice to know the bad things'll have a harder time getting into my head.” He bit his lip, suddenly deep in thought. Then he looked at Luce. “So, let's say I designed another one, maybe something to help with channeling... How much would you ask to make it all discreet and pretty-like? I got a feeling I'll need some extra power in this town, but I can’t give up on style.”

While she was focused on her work, Luce considered being able to read her client’s body language a part of that. She’d tattooed her own sisters, after all, and the two of them hated needles more than anyone she knew. Which is why she paused every so often, checking the man’s expression, making sure that he never went pale and that he remained alert. She nodded at his comment as she wiped away some of the ink from the skin with a paper towel, clearing the area so she could continue over the delicate, intricate letters and symbols. But, internally she frowned at the idea of being called a magician. That was Bea’s thing. Not hers. “Exactly. It’s always nice to have it on hand. Or rather, on shoulder.” She joked. She watched him flinch and paused, lifted needle away from his skin. She didn’t want to ruin his… rune. As she continued her work, his words played around in her mind. Dozens of times, hm? That explained the wear and tear on it. But, getting into his head-- what did that mean? Someone try to take his memory, like her sister did to August? Or did he mean something else. Hm. “Channeling? Depends on what kind of thing you’re channeling.” She said, pulling away to look at her handiwork from afar. Nice. “For the elements, I use the old alchemical symbols. They blend in nicely with my style. Sacred geometry.” She said, tilting her head to the pinboard with some of her designs were displayed. “For other things… I could hide it in a landscape, imbued with power. Or in the gilded edges of a neo-traditional mirror. It all depends on what you’re looking to channel.”

“Elements, huh? So I was right, you really are a Firecracker.” Darwin said with a small shrug, one that he immediately regretted. “For me it's usually safer to stay away from flames, but most rituals draw power from the elements, I thought I recognized something.” He grew silent, his brows furrowing. What was he looking to channel? Truth be told, the potential of a new tattoo hadn't really crossed his mind before now, but he had to admit, it was a brilliant idea: before running away he'd always had another ritualist to help out, but ever since he'd escaped he'd been on his own, and tangoing with demons was a dangerous hobby, one that took a lot out of him. If he could pick one thing to improve in his spell casting, what would it be? Finally, after a long pause, he murmured, more to himself than Luce. “Stability. That's what I need. An actual anchor for my power. Ever felt like you're a breath away from casting the perfect spell and then something goes wrong and all that energy you collected just slips away? I can't afford tha- Ouch! Careful, there!” Oh yeah, now he remembered: the part over the bone had been the worse, even when he first got the tattoo. He steadied himself and focused on the conversation again, humor the only coping mechanism he had left while at Luce’s mercy. “Whatever design I come up with, I'm sure you'll be able to fit it into our fabulous dinosaur. No one would look for a power rune there.”

“You know it.” Luce said, flipping him off, the alchemical symbol for fire on full display on her finger. For all he knew, she did other magic, focused in other spells. But, that had never been something she’d wanted. Fire was in her blood and it was all she wanted to study. All energy, all life on Earth depended on fire just as surely as it depended on the other elements. His mention of rituals, they didn’t give much away in the nature of what he did. Everyone did rituals-- the coven did circles and rituals all the time, to strengthen their ties to the earth and to the magic within themselves. But, stability. That was an interesting one. “Hm.” She said with a nod. She’d felt that sensation once before, only once. Messing with creating a fire so hot, so blinding, that it barely felt like the flames that she was so used to controlling. In that moment, power beyond her imagination was within her grasp. Only for it to slid away. At his protests, Luce laughed, “Don’t be a child.” She said, but used a gentler hand as she tattooed over his hip. Steady hand, steady pokes.“Mm, of course. I could work it into the scales of the dinosaur, or maybe even into the monocle on his eye. He’s got to have a monocle.”

“Easy to say when you're not the one being poked to death,” Darwin mumbled, slowly raising the hand on the opposite side of his tattoo to flip her off. Normally he'd never resort to such crude gestures, but he'd learned to adapt to the person -or creature- in front of him, mimicking their habits in order to better anticipate their movements, their attacks, their plans. Also, he was in pain, he was allowed a slip in style. Despite his protests, he stilled himself, doing his best to suppress every small shiver and tremor and, more importantly, every chuckle: flipping someone off was one thing, but going into a giggling fit would wreck his reputation as well as his tattoo, and he definitely hoped to stay in contact with Luce. “Of course he has a monocle, what kind of uncultured swine do you take him for? And I'll name him Bertrand II, after my...” Demonic pet? Too personal, too soon, who knew how she'd take it. “...Familiar.” Hopefully she'd mistake that hesitation for another reaction to the tattooing process, but even then, Darwin realized he wouldn't be able to keep twisting the truth without focusing 100% on the conversation, and her needle was distracting at best. “I refuse to burst into tears on your chair, so... How about some music? To take my mind off the damned buzzing? I'll take anything, as long as it's loud and I can sing along. Yes, I sing, feel free to swoon.”

“You say that like I haven’t sat in that chair for hours myself.” Luce snorted, gesturing to her elaborate sleeve tattoos. He didn’t need to know about all her other tattoos-- those were reserved for the lovely ladies she took to bed. “You can talk to me about being poked to death when you get a rib tattoo or three.” She said. A hawk and a peacock, for Nell and Bea. Though they wouldn’t know that. No, they just thought the matching tattoos across the sternum was all she had for them. The pause in his voice didn’t go unnoticed and Luce arched her eyebrow as she continued to trace the linework. “Your familiar, huh? I’m sure he’ll be touched by it.” Iggy new that she wouldn’t ever be getting a tattoo of him, that was for damn certain. “Gonna cry? This is so sad, Alexa, play Despacito.” She said, leaning back in her chair as the little gadget lit up and the musical stylings of not the Justin Beiber version filled the air. With a grin, she set back to work, humming quietly to herself as she drew. Darwin, huh? Just what kind of spellcaster was he? She supposed she’d just have to find out another time.

#p: ti #p: darwin asrani #//this was so much fun to write #wickedswriting

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writing-essence · 6 years

Text

Switch Flipped - Sweet Pea

Chapter Two: Sober

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Andrews!Reader, Reggie Mantle x Andrews!Reader

Warnings: Riverdale being wack 🤷🏻‍♀️ also language

Summary: After your dad was shot by the black hood, Archie has gone off the deep end, little did you expect yourself to question your northside loyalties

Author’s Note: Slow burn with Sweet Pea. Slight relationship with Reggie. There’s lots more Sweet Pea in this one, I swear. Let me know if you want to be tagged! -Milla

Word Count: 2,608 (oops?)

A few days had passed since the night of the rumble. Archie made an official apology video per Weatherbee's request and disbanded the red circle. Fred Andrews was relieved his fiery son blew out the flame. It wasn't easily spotted on the surface, but you could tell Archie still harbored hot coals in the pit of his stomach. This was most apparent by his grumbling about a certain Nick St. Clair over the blasts of his punching bag.

Reggie had time to cool down as well. The boy would never fail to jump at the chance to show off his athletism and masculinity in the name of dawning school spirit, so it wasn't a shock when he walked out your door that night. The next morning school had been suspiciously quiet due to the hushed details of Dilton Doiley's "mugging." When Reggie walked to your locker ready to lament his actions and announce the fall of the red circle, you didn't give him a chance. The scratches littering his face, the star of the show being a split lip, was enough to bury yourself back into the warmth of his chest. The gesture continued until the grating pitch of the bell rang through the halls bringing you back to the reality of linoleum floors. For a moment you thought the madness was over. It hadn't even started.

Currently, you were sitting in your room studying for a math test you knew was hopeless. Watching the tree outside your window sway in the harsh November breeze, you were surprising thankful your stress would be coming from the angles of triangles and not a circle tonight. The sun was beginning to set causing an orange tinge to flood your room. Basking in the momentary warmth, you decided to call Reggie for geometry advice. Maybe not actual advice, mostly reassurance you couldn't possibly do worse than he had in the same class the year before.

One ring

Two rings

Three rings

Four rings

Reggie always answered his phone, especially after what happened with Jason. He would never admit it, but he would sometimes panic if you didn't answer in the first three rings, even if he had dropped you off at home within the same hour. It took time for fear of losing people to trickle away. So why wasn't he answering? It could either be a sign of progress or a sign of something you couldn’t bear to think. Hoping for the former you continued to struggle through the practice test your teacher had given you. A few hours had passed, and once again you were graced with four rings and no Reggie. Fighting the nervous jolt in your stomach, you texted Midge instead who you were convinced could anyone off a ledge. Her comforting words lulled you to sleep.

A rude awakening prompted by none other than Alice Cooper, would answer why Reggie's trend of silence continued. An extravagant, to Riverdale standard, party. With jingle-jangle supplied by your supposedly out of business boyfriend. Your chest tightened as your lungs grew three times their size trying to catch up with your frantic breathing. Slowly you backed away from the cracked window at the side of the Cooper house you crouched behind while snooping. Bushes hugged your shins as you ran back to your yard. The next time you saw Reggie, it was over.

Not only had he been continuously lying about his possession of jingle-jangle but he did something you never thought him capable of. You built it in your mind Reggie was better than them than Jason, Chuck, or any other bulldog who wrote the worth of women on lists. He wasn't perfect by any means but not once did you think he would ever cheat. Archie tried his best to comfort you the days following the break. You knew he was there at the party and knew about Reggie and Josie. You didn't know whether you wanted to curse him out for not telling you or hug him for attempting to protect his little sister's heart.

Business at Pop’s had been slow since the first incident with the Black Hood. Understandably so, a place that once emulated comfort through neon lights now had an ever presence of darkness. The counter in front of you glowed after being wiped clean for the countless time this afternoon. The cycle of texting Midge and cleaning suddenly broke by the chime of the door and laughter of boisterous teens. Glancing up from your phone your eyes trailed to the rambunctious rebels sporting serpents on their backs. Hopefully, this encounter would be less dramatic than the last. You grabbed your notepad and headed toward the booth.

"I'm telling you guys the milkshakes are crazy good!"

"Ya know Topaz I'm not sure I trust any milkshake Jones introduced you to."

"Get over yourself Swe-"

"Hi, can I take your order?" You interrupted. Sitting before you was a petite girl sporting pink hair, and two uneasily familiar male faces. Your eyes widened as you examined the two boys sitting on the other side of the booth. The two serpents seemed to notice your saucer-sized eyes and realization seemingly struck them in the chest.

"Uh, guys?" The girl waved her hand in front of their frozen faces, "what's with the staring contest?"

"You're the northsider with the shit for brains brother," the statement came out more like a question from the taller serpent. You sucked in a breath and squeezed your pen tighter, the word, 'unfortunately,' escaped your lips during the exhale. "You know he ruined our drag race today-"

"Wait," the girl cut him off, the corners of her mouth curling up, "you're Archie's sister? Y/N right?" She finished as you turned to her. Your eyebrows furrowed. How would she know that? She seemed to be a mind reader when she continued, "Jughead mentioned you, I'm his friend Toni."

You had practically grown up with Jughead due to his friendship with Archie. He had grown to be one of your most trusted confidants especially during your party girl phase brought on by Reggie. You were forever grateful for Jughead's myriad of cover-ups, saving you weeks of being grounded to your room. You considered it retribution for the time he managed to spill an entire milkshake in your hair when he attempted a magician career during seventh grade. While the chocolate scent could have been worse, it quickly turned to spoiled milk even after the fourth washing. His affinity for being quick with words almost made up for that catastrophe.

"Good to know he hasn't forgotten about me, not like I've known him since he had that dorky headgear," you jested at the girl sitting to your right.

"No way really?" For the first time, you saw a smile creep onto the larger boy's face. He elbowed his friend in the excitement of the humiliation of young Jughead Jones. Deciding not to ruin whatever reputation Jughead was building for himself on the south side you simply shrugged letting your smile twist into a smirk.

"So what can I get for you guys?"

Minutes passed as you returned with their burgers and shakes. They politely thank you and returned to their conversation. For serpents, they weren't as intimidating as you suspected. They acted like regular teens, not thugs as many made them out to be. While they looked rougher around the edges in leather and ripped jeans, they were just goofy kids. Throughout the evening you stole glances at the wild crew, catching snippets of their amusing antics.

"Fangs if you blow one more straw wrapper in my hair I swear-"

"Chill out Toni-"

"Oh, I'll show you who needs to chill out-"

Needless to say that dispute ended with twenty wrappers covering Toni's side of the booth and a splatter of milkshake on his face. A chuckle slipped past your lips. You coughed in an attempt to cover up your eavesdropping, but the milkshake free boy wasn't fooled as he looked to your hunched form over the register. You avoided his gaze long enough for him to lose interest and turned back to his arguing friends. Once they had calmed, you decided it was a good time to ask if they were ready for the check. Closing was approaching quickly, and you weren't a fan of riding home alone in the dark.

"We can clean it up," Toni hurried. Your eyes scanned the disaster zone. Straw wrappers, ketchup drips, and milkshake splatters littered the once sparkling table. "Sorry," she smiled sheepishly then glared to the shorter boy who you assumed was Fangs.

"Don't worry about it," you shook your head returning the smile. After momentary consideration you sighed, "look I know my brother won't apologize for any trouble he's caused, I guess this is me saying sorry. I can clean it up its no problem. Afterall it is my job."

"I wouldn't say it's your job to clean up your brother's messes," the taller serpent responded crossing his arms.

"That's not what I meant," your smile faltered.

You rang the trio up at the front after bussing their table. After a hushed argument about who should pay or how easy they could divide the bill into thirds, they decided on the classic game of rock, paper, scissors. Fangs' rock lost to the other two's paper. Not before pining for a rematch he gave in, including a commendable tip. You tucked the money in the register and grabbed your washcloth and spray bottle, ready to charge the Mt. Everest of messes. Still wiping down the table you had noticed the group's failure to leave, they were staring back at you while whispering. Toni shrugged, Fangs tried to fist bump the giant next to him just to be met with a smack on the head from Toni.

"Do you need a ride?" the tallest ask asked.

"Excuse me?" All you could do was blink as you stopped cleaning. Had you heard him right? Was he talking to you? Of course, he was talking to you; he was staring right at you.

"That's your bike out there right?" He pointed out the door's glass window to the bright yellow metal of your bike. You nodded. "It's getting late, and Jones is a serpent now. He talked about you like family, we take care of our own,” he shrugged with his hands in his jacket pockets.

Your eyes involuntarily squinted at his generous offer. From squinting, they shifted between each serpent as if to decipher a secret code. From the sincere looks on the teen's faces, you decided they harbored no ill will. Your choices seemed slim, either bike home alone in the dark with the Black Hood lurking in the shadows or catch a ride from Jughead's mysterious serpent friend. Even if they looked genuine, you had to establish some form of protection in case of a disaster. You walked toward the group stopping in front of the boy who had asked you the question.

"Promise this isn't your master plan to murder me in Fox Forrest?" You held up your pinky to his chest. The boy's dark eyebrows nearly raised themselves off his forehead staring at your gesture. His eyes switched to look at his friends on either side.

"You're serious?" he asked incredulously, a laugh peaking through his inflection. Toni and Fangs had amused looks pointed towards their friend.

"Deadly," you answered unwaveringly back. He shook his head in defeat as his pinky hooked around yours. "I'll be out after I finish with your guys' table," you made your way back to the damp milkshake covered towel. An uncontrollable smile played upon your face. You had managed to get a Southside Serpent to agree to a pinky promise and lived to tell the tale; Midge wouldn't believe it.

After you finished cleaning and put away your supplies, you grabbed your jacket from under the front counter and headed out. The three teens were still there laughing about something Fangs had said. The poor boy had a bewildered look on his face asking what the big joke was. You grabbed your bike from the rack tucked by the front steps and wheeled it towards your temporary carpool buddy. He kindly tucked your bike in the back of his light green truck. You could tell it had been a fair amount of years since its last paint job. There were chips, scratches, a few dents here and there. You wouldn't have described it as run down, but well loved.

"Um, thanks for the ride," you broke the minutes of silence since you both sat down.

"Don't worry about it," he dismissed.

You took in your surroundings. It wasn't messy like you would expect a vehicle of a teenage boy to be. The knob on the out of date radio had been knocked off, and the seats squeaked if you moved an inch. They squeaked a lot as you fidgeted in your place not knowing whether to look out the window, at the inside of the car, or towards the boy next to you. You decided on the last option. His eyes were transfixed on the road you assumed he traveled down the night of the rumble. A few rings decorated his hands that were draped lazily on the steering wheel. He had soft features which contrasted with his jet black hair. At this moment he didn't ooze an ounce of intimidation even with a snake dancing across his neck. The snake which was the symbol of a gang. A gang that your closest childhood friend got himself wrapped into.

"You good princess?" He glanced at your prying eyes.

"Uh yeah," you started caught off guard, "how's Jughead?"

"A tool," he deadpanned. You smiled at his look of distaste for your "quirky" friend.

"Yeah, you know he probably thinks the thing about you," you let out a light laugh. "Jughead's a lot sometimes, but he means well."

"Sure he does princess," he responded. Your nose scrunched up at the nickname.

"I have a name you know," you insisted even going as far to point at the name tag on your uniform. Then you realized something. Toni had introduced herself, and you caught Fang's name from the straw wrapper war, but the name of who was sitting next to you was still a mystery. "Speaking of which you're giving me a ride home, and I still have no idea what your name is"

"Quite the scandal for you huh northsider?" He taunted with a smile. You rolled your eyes crossing your arms sinking deeper in the stiff seat. "It's Sweet Pea."

"You're serious?" A breath of air puffed out of your chest. He had to be messing with you. You watched his face contort with a mischievous glint.

"Deadly," he smirked, repeating your words from Pop's.

"Right, well this is me," you said as he pulled up past the Cooper's to your smaller house. After unbuckling, you hopped down to the pavement and grabbed the door to close it, looking up at Sweet Pea.

"Need help with your bike?" He asked. You nodded mumbling a quick 'thanks.' He pulled your bike out the back, passing you the handlebars. After a more formal thank you, you started your up the walkway locking your bike up at the side of the house in the bushes. Before walking up to the porch, you turned back to Sweet Pea who was leaning against the side of his truck.

"See you around, princess," he concluded, a look of victory strewn across his face. You shook your head at the hopeless nickname but smiled nonetheless.

"Night, Sweet Pea."

Tags:

@the-original-penguin

@6trash6queen6

@star-mum

@andyl394

@yougottalovefandoms

#sweet pea #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea series #reggie mantle #reggie mantle imagine #reggie mantle x reader #riverdale #riverdale imagine #riverdale series #andrews!reader #Archie Andrews x sister!reader #switch flipped series

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tinybibmpreg · 6 years

Text

Day 83 // ft. Dritan, Haydyn, Azalea, Mateo, Yvonne, Taya, and Moira

#13 / Roses and Thorns

“I’m not going to leave you. You’re never going to have to suffer by yourself again, I promise,” his father told him, as they dug up Moira’s plants and transferred them into pots. Moira didn’t understand what had brought that on, as they’d been completely silent after his father agreed to let him go out and get his plants. “Understand?”

“Yes, sir. I understand. I just…” Moira closed his mouth and sighed, focusing back on digging up a small rose bush that was barely anything more than some sticks. He lifted it up and put it in a medium-sized pot. He bent down to pack in some more dirt, and when he straightened up, he caught his cheek on one of the large thorns. “Ow!”

His father was next to him in an instant, finger brushing over the scratch. There was an icy feeling, and the pain faded. His father wiped the blood away with a handkerchief, and when Moira felt his cheek, the scratch was completely gone. “Thank you…”

“You have such dangerous looking plants, Momo.”

“They’ll look much prettier when they bloom, and this rose bush just hasn’t grown its leaves yet.”

“A rose? Your sisters love roses. They like flowers a lot.” Moira didn’t say anything in response to that. He didn’t want to think about having to interact with his stepsiblings. Destiny had been his only friend, and he didn’t know how to make any others. “Now… what were you going to say before that thorn stopped you?”

“Nothing.”

“Momo…”

Moira looked down at the rose bush. A bit of blood was stuck to the thorn he’d pricked himself on. Carefully, he wiped it off. “It’s just… I don’t get why we have to leave when we’re not suffering. I like living here, and visiting my friend on Earth.”

The smile on his father’s face was patently fake. He pinched Moira’s check and told him, “I don’t want to scare you. It’s a grown-up thing, okay? Your mom and I discussed it, and it’s best if you both come live with me. Your stepsiblings and their mother will be staying in the house with you both.”

“None of us can leave?”

“You can play outside as long as one of the grown-ups is with you, Momo. Now… what’s this plant I’m digging up?”

“That’s a gorse plant. They get very pretty yellow flowers.”

“And what about the rest?”

“We already potted the sticky nightshade and a few blackberry bushes and roses. There’s also a few porcupine tomatoes, some crown of thorns, and a little honey locust tree.”

“They sound lovely, but I don’t believe I know what a crown of thorns is.”

Moira pointed out the small plants. “They’re going to get pink flowers all over them.”

“I see. The prettiest flowers have the sharpest thorns, don’t they?” Moira nodded. “They’ll all be quite beautiful, I’m sure, but for now we’ll have you plant them at the edge of the yard so your brother and sisters don’t step on them when they run around outside.”

“Okay!”

Once everything was packed, they waited for a moving truck to come and load all of the boxes. Moira watched as the pots were put onto the truck. He hoped they would all be okay on the drive, that nothing would crush them. He’d put so much hard work into getting them all to grow in his mother’s realm, a realm that had very poor nutrition and sunlight for plants.

As the truck drove away, his father pulled the both of them close and smiled at them. “We’re all ready to go! Are you excited, Momo?”

“Not really…” He had a flowering succulent in a small pot in his hands, and looked down at it, frowning.

“Haydyn?” he asked his mother.

“Eh. Can we stop and get something to eat before we get there? Moira could use a milkshake to calm his nerves, and I wouldn’t mind a very unhealthy but delicious meal before I’m stuck inside all day eating health foods.”

His father didn’t look very thrilled at the idea. “We’ll get it through a drive-through and you can eat in the car.”

Moira held the succulent between his legs during the silent car ride. He glumly accepted a small milkshake and french fries when they were given to him. He slowly ate the fries, and as they drove down a strange highway that Moira had never been on during his visits to other realms, his father finally spoke, slapping the steering wheel, “Oh! Momo, I just realized I haven’t even told you what your brother and sisters’ names are! How silly of me, not to say anything about them.”

“You said my sisters like flowers, especially roses.”

“Yes, they do, very much. We have all sorts of flower paintings and patterns at home. Anyway- Mateo is sixteen, he’s the oldest. He’s relatively quiet, and is in that phase where he thinks he’s too old to play the games his sisters suggest. I think he’ll be very happy to have a brother around.” Moira had a feeling that his stepbrother wouldn’t be too happy about another young kid showing up. “Yvonne is twelve, she’s the middle child, and she’s quiet around adults but when it’s just her and her siblings, she can talk the night away. She’s very sweet, and is excited to meet you. And Taya is just a year younger than you, seven. She’s shy, and likes dolls.”

“I like dolls.”

“Moira has picked up sewing quite fast, maybe he can make new clothes for her dolls to practice.”

“Great! Look at that, you have the same interests as your sisters. You’ll get along wonderfully.”

“What does Mateo like?”

“Oh, music and video games. He’s a bit upset that I’ve pulled him from school and all his friends, so he may not want to play with you today.”

Moira didn’t really want to play with them today. Instead, he wanted to get started on putting his plants back in the ground. While the crown of thorns would do just fine in pots, the tree, tomato, and bushes would do much better in soil they could expand in.

The rest of the ride was quiet and he finished his milkshake and fries in peace. Moira’s head spun after they made it to his father’s home realm. It took another twenty minutes before they were pulling into the driveway of a large home. By then, the dizzy feeling had abated. Moira peered out the window as the car slowed to a halt, a frown on his face.

“We’re here! It looks like the movers are bringing everything in. Come on, let’s go meet Azalea and the kids. They’ll be waiting for us inside.”

Moira reluctantly got out of the car and took his mother’s hand, clutching the potted succulent to his chest. They followed his father inside, and the first thing Moira noticed was how open and empty it seemed. His mother’s small house had been cluttered with all the things he’d collected over the years, where his father’s house had paintings on the wall and some furniture, but didn’t feel lived in at all.

It was very bright, and Moira was glad that at least his plants would finally get the sun they needed without him having to set up lights for them.

His father’s family was in the living room. Yvonne and Taya were playing with a few dolls on the floor, while Mateo was talking to his mother on the couch, not looking particularly happy.

“Azzy, kids, I’m back, and I’ve brought Haydyn and Momo!”

“Dad!” The girls looked happy to see him. Mateo looked away, going quiet. Azalea gave them a kind smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and she waved to them. Moira wondered if his father had lied about her being fine with his reveal that he secretly had a demon lover and a half-demon child, with another on the way.

His father walked further into the room so he could give the two girls a hug. “How have you two been? Behaving for your mother?”

“Yeah!” Yvonne answered. “We’ve been good all day!”

“Wonderful!” He let them go and went over to his wife. The sisters stared at Moira and his mother, and Moira felt like wilting. “Hello, my dear. Did anyone stop by today?”

“Just you three and the movers. Haydyn, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. You’re just as lovely as Dritan says you are. Well, I think I’ll make sure none of my things broke on the truck. Moira, don’t be shy.” He rubbed Moira’s head and headed towards the stairs. Moira watched him go, not wanting to be left with his father and his family by himself. When he turned back, they were all looking at him, except for Mateo.

His father gave him an encouraging smile, and Moira bit the inside of his lip. Looking down at his succulent, he made a decision. Moira walked up to Yvonne and Taya. Nervousness shone in their eyes as he approached them. He held out the succulent to them. “Father said you like flowers. This one's for you.”

They both smiled, and Yvonne took the plant. “It’s really pretty!”

“It’s a succulent.”

“They know what a succulent is,” Mateo said dryly. Moira definitely didn’t think his stepbrother wanted him there.

“What kind is it?” Taya asked quietly, ignoring her older brother.

“It’s a tacitus bellus. I grew it in my room, with a light. It likes sunshine, so you should put it by a window.”

“We can put it in our room, Yvonne! I can move my princess doll so it has a spot.”

“That’s a good idea, Tay. Come on, Momo, we’ll show you our room.” He didn’t really want to, but Yvonne took his arm and pulled him along.

As they left the room, Moira heard his father say to his wife, “They’re already opening up to him, Azzy. I told you there was no need to worry. Momo is a very likable little boy.”

“He bribed them with that plant,” Mateo scoffed. “And if he was so likable, how come you never told us about him until five days ago?”

“Mateo,” Azalea scolded. “We talked about this. Treat your brother nicely.”

Taya had a lot of different dolls on her side of the room, and she ran up to their window and pulled a large doll off of the shelf directly under it. Yvonne placed the plant in the space and turned it so the flowers were clearly on display. As they marveled over it, Moira looked around at the dolls. He picked one up that had a white dress and angel wings, a halo over its head attached by a small stick of plastic. The dress was slightly ripped, and stained pink at the bottom.

“Do you like dolls, Momo?” Yvonne asked. “Taya loves them, and our brother won’t play with them anymore.”

“Um… I haven’t played with them much. My mother says I could probably make doll clothes since I like sewing.”

“Could you make that one a new dress later?”

“S-sure… Do you have any fabric I can use?”

“Mommy has lots of fabric! You could ask her for some!”

He didn’t want to. “Why don’t you ask her, so you can pick out a color you like? I don’t want to pick a color you won’t like.”

“What do you like to do, Momo? I like painting!”

“I like gardening.”

“Cool! Mommy has a garden. She grows a lot of fruits and vegetables. What do you grow?”

“Flowers. Father let me bring my plants… I have roses, blackberries, and some other things. They’re all small and don’t really have leaves yet, but they’ll look pretty in a few weeks.”

“Roses are my favorite!” Yvonne grinned at him. “Can I help you garden?”

It would go much faster if he had someone to help him. “I just have to ask Father where I can plant my things…”

“How about with Mommy’s plants?”

“He said my plants are a bit dangerous, so I should plant them out of the way.”

“Dangerous?”

“Roses and blackberries have very sharp thorns. The rest of the plants have thorns as well.”

“Oh, yeah! Mommy said the prettiest flowers have the sharpest thorns.” Very similar to what his father had told him. It seemed he had been echoing his wife. “I’ll be careful, I promise!”

“Me too!” Taya said. “I’ll be really careful!”

His father looked surprised to see them come back downstairs so quickly. Mateo was nowhere to be seen, and Azalea asked them, “Is something wrong?”

“Nope!” Yvonne answered, cheery.

“Sir, where can I put my plants?”

“How about by the fence line, over there?” His father pointed out the window. Moira could see a little bit of Azalea’s garden.

“Why not add his things to my garden?”

“His plants are very pointy. Roses and blackberries and a locust tree. I don’t want the girls falling on them when they run through your garden, Azzy.”

“Locust trees grow very big… Plant that halfway through the yard, dears, so it has plenty of room. The rest will look lovely by the fence. Feel free to use any of my tools.”

His father came outside with them and helped them by taking care of the tree while they worked on the rest of the garden, and then assisting them. They had to dig up circles of grass, and went back and forth bringing the plants over to the area. Moira decided that he would try to grow the crown of thorns cuttings in pots indoors, since they were so small. Everything else was spread out so they had lots of space to grow. It took them a while, but eventually, everything was planted and watered.

“I can’t wait for the roses to bloom!”

“What are we going to do with all the little ones, Momo?”

“They can stay inside. They’re houseplants, and they’ll be covered in pink flowers when they’re bigger.”

“They’re kind of scary looking now…”

“Is there a spot in the house where I can put them at a window where they won’t bother anybody, sir?”

“The windows on you and your mother’s floor would work well for your plants, Momo,” his father answered. “Now come on inside, kids. We’ll get those pots upstairs and you can tell Mateo about all the hard work you did today. Then, I’ll get you three some snacks.”

“Should I go help Mother unpack, sir? He’s not supposed to be doing a lot of work.” The movers’ truck was gone, so everything had been brought upstairs.

His father reached over to pat his head, but Moira stepped away. “You should get some rest before you do that. Besides, the boxes aren’t like plants, they don’t have to be tended to right away. And I’ll tell him to take it easy, don’t worry.”

#Oblio's fics #original #mpreg #male pregnancy #Dritan (BoT)#Haydyn (BoT)#Moira (BoT)#Azalea (BoT)#Mateo (BoT)#Yvonne (BoT)#Taya (BoT)#Bed of Thorns

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sarah-writes-stories · 5 years

Text

@dangerouspompadour Inuyasha feels like an idiot. Of course she needs food. She’s just a weak human after all. Embarrassed for keeping her a prisoner to his lust, the two of them get dressed in awkward morning-after silence.

Stepping out of the hut, they realize that it’s nearly mid-day. They also realize that the sutras must have been removed at some point, ramping up their awkward back-to-reality embarrassment even more.

The final nail in the coffin comes when lounging against a fence a short distance away is Miroku, waiting patiently for them to emerge with a knowing smirk plastered across his face.

I have this head cannon that whenever Kagome would come back to the modern era she’d listen to the radio, successfully embedding the latest pop ear worm into her mind.

Then when she went back to the feudal era she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from singing the sometimes racy lyrics under her breath and only Inuyasha (and maybe Shippo) would be able to hear her.

Shippo wouldn’t really understand or care, but it would literally make Inuyasha’s head spin listening to her mumble-sing love songs or racy dance beats that he could never tell if she knew he could hear or not.

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paniccord-ff · 7 years

Text

34.

Blake sniffed the Christmas gift I bought him “I smell something expensive, like a Rolex. I smell it” shaking my head with my mouth hung open “you really stood there sniffing a box, sit yo ass down stupid. And just to clarify, it ain’t a Rolex but I know my presents better have something nice in there” Blake placed the box down and walked back over to me “well the gift I bought is that I am not a baby daddy! Bailey ain’t pregnant with my child” I think this is great news “thank you god! Oh my god, how did you find out?” Blake sat across me “fuck knows, she called and was like it’s not you. She did some test but she ain’t ask me for shit but Lo is the dad” I snorted laughing “good luck with that trash, I am just glad it ain’t my family so I don’t care” it’s nice to see my brothers “it sucks our sister ain’t finna be here, but you need to tell me if you like your present and as you can see, I wrapped it” pulling a face at his wrapping skills “I can really tell Blake, thank you” it’s really bad, shaking my head laughing “Chris ain’t hooking me up with a job yet sis? A nigga tryna get out of the shit” I don’t know why he think Chris can get him a job “you trying to take my job?” Joe piped in “uh yeah, I think I am bigger then you anyways” Joe waved him off “what is it like to work for Chris? I mean you been working for him for a while” watching Nathan eating pizza, that best not be the pizza I saved for myself for later “it’s great, it’s like working for a friend but demanding. I can be at home and Chris will say he wants to go out and I have to go or my friend Carlos goes, I have been hit a few times. Shot at once, this is with Chris. Arrested when Chris threw the punch, when Chris was bad he was bad but everything is fine now. Fans are a different breed, no talking to them” Blake really wants to be a bodyguard “that sounds like something I can do” I think I will have to mention it to Chris again, if I can help my brother with making himself a better person.

I know my mom loves it when we are all home “I really want to open a gift, don’t you think I should open mine because I won’t be here” I want to know what I got “let me open Blake’ because it seems really empty” my mom laughed “it’s the thought that counts and before you say anything Blake nobody is opening their gifts” Blake stared at me in shock “you going to love it, I promise you that you will be calling me thanking me. Nathan and I thought of it, the gift took a whole night’s work of dope selling” Joe busted out laughing “for real, she better not be ungrateful. I did a lot that night” my mom don’t want to hear it “stop, seriously. The both of you” let me not laugh but that was funny “so when are you boys bringing girls home?” my mom asked Nathan and Blake “when they are worthy, no girl has been worthy to meet my queen” I cooed out “aww oh my god, that is so sweet. Nice things actually come out of your mouth Blake?” that is really sweet “on a real though, we have high standards. I want a woman that is humble and loves family” Nathan said “but LA is not the place” feeling my phone buzz on my lap, seeing a text from Chris.

From: Chris

To: Rylee

Have you not spoken to your dad since? Can we facetime, I miss you x

My dad and I haven’t spoken since then, he has purposely made himself busy so there is that “you kids take too long, I mean Rylee has done well. How would you kids feel if Rylee was pregnant?” looking up from my phone “what mom? Ignore her, she is just talking too much” Nathan and Blake both glared at me “that means we have a Chris Brown bloodline in our family, that is cool. Are you?” why do the men in this house look at me like ‘did you have sex?’ It’s so weird “no I’m not, mom is just being mom. She wants someone to give her a grandchild” eyeballing my mom before looking back down at my phone to text Chris back.

To: Chris

From: Rylee

No I haven’t and not right now…. I am sat with family

Hearing the door open “they must be back” Nathan said, not like my dad wants to see my face anyways. I can hear more voices then there is, Kyrie came running into the living area “little nigga, how was football practice” Blake grabbed Kyrie making him scream, swallowing hard all wide eyed “Kyrie you bought Kyrie back with you” I said looking away, just great. I don’t know why things have become awkward but I feel it, I mean after all the arguments and then Chris posted that video about morning sex. He hasn’t texted me since then, this just feels very awkward “hi Rylee” looking up at him “hi Kyrie” he is actually still a beautiful man, my god. My phone buzzed to let me know Chris text back, unlocking my phone.

From: Chris

To: Rylee

Talk to him, you do it. It’s been a while now so he’s a very stubborn man, I mean I don’t blame him. He’s losing a diamond and I am gaining, you’re diamond so rare that they only make them once in every century and I got that but talk to him because he’s a good guy. I love you and hurry up

“Invited Kyrie to dinner” my dad said, looking up smiling because that text was so beautiful but he wants me to speak to my dad, but now I don’t know if to text him that Kyrie is here or facetime and tell, I think facetime I will tell him “dad, can I speak to you” I am just going to do it now “thanks” getting up from the couch, under Kyrie’ watchful eye I couldn’t take it so there is that “fine” my dad said, walking into the open planned dining area and into the kitchen, pulling open the door to go to the back yard “must be serious” he said behind me, stepping outside “well I want it to be private, between father and daughter because that is what we are but you don’t see me as that. I have been here for what two days now, you haven’t spoken to me. I thought I was your little girl but you treating me like dirt. You’re actually hurting me here, I come to you for everything. You are the man in my life I go too but no, right now you are being mean to me. Just because I didn’t listen to you about Christmas is that it?” crossing my arms across my chest “I just wanted to have my daughter as Rylee Turner in my home before she ended up being Rylee Brown and stayed at my home as someone’s wife, that was all. I am sorry, I am stubborn as you know. I feel bad, I do. Because you are my little girl that I want to protect, to keep men away from you. I always told your brothers to look after you, to keep you happy. It’s hard because I feel not needed and I knew this day would come but clearly I wasn’t ready for it, I still think of you as my little girl that taught me how to play with dolls and showed me a different kind of love that I am scared to give you away to someone, but that time has come” now my dad is making me so sad, I feel really sad.

I feel choked up now “I couldn’t have asked for a better dad, nothing will ever change that. Ok I will be married but that doesn’t change me, you will have grandkids and I know you and mom want that. You adore Royalty, I just don’t want you to hate me for this. You will still be the man I go to for things, like I did when I skipped school. I never understood why I told you that day but you never told mom, we went to get milkshakes instead. You have been the best, do you honestly hate me?” my dad shook his head “never in this lifetime princess but you know I will be crying on the wedding day” he kissed my head “so will I, I think we need to be separated” my dad chuckled “only death could separate us Rylee, my blessing that I needed” hugging my dad.

Walking back into the house with my dad “why did you bring Kyrie here?” I don’t understand why “for dinner, I thought why not” rolling my eyes, I mean of course why not. Seeing the pizza box on the kitchen counter, opening the box and seeing it empty and it hurt me. I feel violated that Nathan knew that was mine and still ate it and I didn’t eat lunch “dad, Nathan ate my pizza!” closing the box “I wanted that pizza and it was mine!” grabbing the box and walking into the living area, I don’t even care if Kyrie is here “you ate my pizza?” Nathan is laughing but I don’t find it funny “yes I did, you saw me with it” throwing the box at him “Rylee, don’t do that” I want to beat his ass “fucking get me more pizza now” Nathan looked at me half laughing and half shocked “you want me to shit it out for you? Shut up” snatching my hand away from my dad “fuck you! No good nigga, fuck you!” I am so mad, this is not fair because it was mine and I was saving it.

Flicking my tears away, I am doing this and I am crying because of pizza “yeah, I’ll be back cuz. I’ll be in my room” Chris said to someone and then looked at his phone “why you crying for?” Chris said in shock “because he ate my pizza” I sobbed out moving the phone down to the side of me “Rylee, what do you mean?” getting up from the bed and getting a tissue “seriously Rylee, why are you crying?” picking my phone up just as I wiped my nose “Nathan ate my pizza, it was mine. I was waiting for the right time to eat it and he ate it. I wanted it because it was mine” I sniffled, Chris stared at me in shock “and you crying because of this?” nodding my head “it was mine Chris” my lower lip quivering “but there is no need to cry right? Don’t cry” this has actually upset me so much “I will get you pizza delivered, any topping? Tell me, I will make it happen. Stop the tears baby” I feel so sad “I have a headache now too, I was in a good mood but now this has annoyed me so much” touching my head “tell me what pizza you had, and rest. I am still in shock you crying over pizza” he thinks I am stupid “my argument is valid so laugh at me if you want, I had Philly Cheese Steak pizza. I waited and then this” I know Chris is trying to not laugh at me “just calm down, it’s something that can be ordered again. If you want pizza then you will get it, you want to rest? Call me when you had some painkillers and stuff?” nodding my head “I love you” smiling at Chris “I love you too” I feel stupid now, disconnecting the facetime.

Knock at the door, I know that knock and it’s my little brother “come in” I mumbled in sadness “Rylee, there is a man at the door for you. He has pizza for you! He said he has to give it you” lifting my head up from the pillow “for me? I didn’t order it” getting up from my bed, I probably look a mess because I just woke up from my nap “I said I give it but he won’t listen” looking at my face in the mirror quickly “mhmmm yeah, come” opening my bedroom door walking behind Kyrie “I can give it my sister you know” Blake said, walking down the steps “she is here anyways” Blake stepped back from the door “this guy said he has special instructions” seeing the Domino's guy, he has four large boxes “Rylee Turner?” nodding my head “I knew it, I seen your face on those blog sites. We got an order and the instructions that you had to take them nobody else. Chris Brown? Yeah, your fiancé ordered with us. He called himself, I spoke to him. Cool guy, he bought them online and wanted to make sure we give it to you so called up” busting out laughing shaking my head “oh my god!” turning around laughing “oh my god, oh god. Thank you” taking the boxes from him “my pleasure” the guy walked off and I cannot stop laughing “you told Chris about the pizza? You a snitch sis” Blake said, Chris really got me pizza and I cannot stop laughing.

Chris has literally made me the happiest bitch alive, he legit got me four boxes of pizza. Taking a picture of the pizza and posting it on Instagram ‘Thank you babe for the pizza’ I can’t really eat all of this but he is so precious to me “can I have a slice?” Nathan asked “this was all your fault and now you asking for a slice, bye” placing my phone down “but fine, you can have a slice. I guess dinner is here” Kyrie came up from behind Nathan “Rylee, can you tell your man. Thank you for this” he took a slice “I am sorry, I shouldn’t have kicked off like that. Sorry Kyrie, you had to see that” he waved me off “just do not mess with a female that wants pizza” he winked at me, he is very dreamy “pretty much, I didn’t see you at Chris’ tour date. How come?” he shook his head “I actually had a date with a girl that day, I wish I didn’t now. She really wasn’t right” nodding my head staring at him “you probably need a model” he snorted “not at all, just someone like you would do” rolling my eyes “you mean someone that would beat your ass for pizza?” Nathan spat “actually forget it, good luck to Chris” I gasped in shock “but yeah, I missed the concert but I would have come to his concert, they are always lit” Chris would hate him if he came anyways “I better be invited to the wedding by the way” Kyrie pointed at me “of course” I lied knowing Chris won’t allow it.

I am feeling very sleepy now so I am calling it a day, pulling the covers over me “Babe” hearing Chris’ voice, picking the phone up from the side of me “Chrissy” I whined as I smirked “my baby boy, thank you so much for the pizza, I feel so ashamed now” I feel embarrassed “it’s ok, I don’t like you crying so I had to do it. You going bed now?” nodding my head “I feel just tired, I feel emotionally distressed after all that” Chris chuckled “all that pizza stealing got you tired huh? God, I miss you so much” my baby looks so cute “same, what are you doing? Tell me about you, how is VA? Your family, have you spoke to Roro? Did you sleep well, did you eat and take your tablets. Answer it all” turning onto my side “wow, so right now I am in my bedroom laying down because I knew you was calling and I ain’t want to sit with my niggas, they already think I am too soft. VA is just VA, it’s nice and peaceful but too peaceful, my dog’s are happy to see me and I mean my actual dog’s not friends” Chris laughed “and I just be resting with the family and homies, playing Basketball. I spoke to Royalty she is good, she is playing with fish and I don’t know how” smiling at Chris “she be talking about playing with fish and shit and I slept horribly, I had a nap on my couch but my homies scared me awake. I had my tablets and now I am speaking to you” sighing out smiling, I just want to hold him now.

Stifling out a yawn “but honestly, thank you for the pizza. I have a pregnant pizza stomach now, I am filled and it feels so good” Chris laughed at me “I love you so much so of course I was going to feed you. Baby, I want you to stay on facetime with me until you fall asleep, I will cut it off ok?” furrowing my eyebrows “but I will look stupid sleeping” he shook his head “you know it’s hard to be away from you, like this right now is so hard on me. You know I like you close, I mean it’s nice having my family here but they are not you Rylee. I want to just hug you, I will be going home tomorrow though. I will get the tree even though I rather you be with me” is Chris hinting that I come home early “are you wanting me to come home tomorrow too” Chris’ smile grew “nah, I would never say that but I will get the tree for you” I think I know what he wants “show your dick, I love seeing your dick soft” smiling wide “you a freak Rylee” Chris flipped the camera over “I want sweet dreams tonight” Chris lifted his sweatpants up, I am about to have some real good dreams tonight.

I need to bring Rylee here soon, I need her to live and breathe VA even though there is nothing really left here. I still grew up here and my family do stay here still “nephew you better come back here, I want to see your wife” placing my backpack over my shoulders “there is too many of you to meet, she’s met Christine but I promise she need to meet the rest of you and uncle” I have too many aunties, four altogether “and the wedding?” sighing out smiling “we don’t know yet, we thinking overseas but come to think of it there is too many of you. Getting y’all to Barbados, I would need a whole plane. I will have to think about it, probably do it here. Saves money and time but I will be back” giving my auntie a hug “it’s so good to see you, you get married without me knowing I will murder you” I chuckled moving back “I got you, thank you for looking out on my home though. Before I get married I will bring her here, once she stops crying about pizza and the meltdown she will have once she sees the dog’s. She will hate it but I love y’all, bye” waving at my cousins as I walked out.

Sitting in the back of the SUV with Mijo “I miss VA, shit was so simple here but I would never come back here to live, shit is boring and smells like incest” side eyeing Mijo “fuck outta here, this is still my home” Carlos laughed “I think I am finna get Keeis and them to come overseas, Rylee said no friends but she didn’t say no cousins” Mijo nodded laughing “she gonna regret not banning the family, we need to make our bus more lit so if we move Rylee to EJs, everything will be good” shaking my head “so Robb, Aaron, Keeis and Jamal? I think my bus is fine now. Actually, you know what. I am going to keep Carlos and Joe on my bus, wait actually. I got Royalty this time, this is why Nia been an ass with me about having her. She cut my day, she said Christmas eve or half of Christmas day but it’s whatever” getting my phone out from my pocket, let me send Rylee a text “so she been a bitch because of it?” Mijo asked, nodding my head “yeah but she is so nice to Rylee, I am like fuck you too. So I got Royalty for the tour, she will come back though half way through” Mijo grinned “so don’t bring everyone, bring Jamal, Keeis and Robb. Leave Aaron to housesit” pressing my messages.

To: Rylee

From: Chris

Morning baby! Hope you have a beautiful day and Did you have some sweet dick dreams?

Pressing send on the message “my mom will do that, Rylee doesn’t like Keeis doing it. This nigga had sex in the home and I am a little worried Rylee wants to move because of it” Mijo looked at me all shocked “If Rylee jumped would you jump?” pulling a face at Mijo “serious question bro” I paused, licking my lips feeling selfish as fuck “I would jump” Mijo took in a deep breath “wow, I just can’t believe Chris Brown, my brother. You are in love, like deeply in love. She changed your life for the best, she good people. She is very laid back with you, she don’t argue. Like other females would do, she was like fine go to the club and Joe said when he took you home she was happy to see your drunk ass” smiling wide “she cares a lot, makes me care too. It brings that out of me” my phone pinged in my hand, unlocking my phone.

Form: Rylee

To: Chris

Morning handsome and yes I did, your dick is very beautiful and I am proud that it’s mine. Did I look terrible sleeping? No screenshots, right? I forgot to tell you, I am sorry but Kyrie was here and he said thanks for the pizza! My dad invited him for lunch and we spoke about general shit, he just said he couldn’t come to your concert because he was on a date so please do not be annoyed, it’s nothing.

Rolling my eyes, of course he was around but I am not annoyed. Sending a text back to her.

To: Rylee

From: Chris

I aim to please even when my dick is soft, I didn’t take no screenshots and you dropped your phone so I just disconnected it. Uh Oh, it’s fine I am not annoyed I just want you home which is tomorrow or maybe today? Jk jk, tomorrow it is.

“How come you wouldn’t move though?” Mijo asked after remembering what I said “because I love that home, it’s perfect for me and the space. I mean ok it has graffiti on it and it needs redecorating again, I need to change things but I like it. I don’t think she does want to move but I said we can do it up together again, it’s a home where my cars have a home too. I just want to get Rylee on this modelling gig, hopefully what I am thinking she will become independent after I help her through it. She will pick it up and then she will fly out herself doing her job with Joe and Carlos, only two I trust and then I will be doing my thing” this is my dream “but that will make her busy? You are wanting her home now” nodding my head “but modelling won’t take all of her time” Mijo’ eyes widened “stop playing stupid, I am telling you now Rylee will blow up. Once people see how she is, that will attract people to her. People will naturally want to know more.” I shrugged “but our hearts will make us close, I want to keep her close but she deserves so much better. I am selfish to hide that so she can feel depressed because she is at home waiting on me, waiting on me to pay for things. I know her Mijo, I know her soul and I don’t want that to change about her. I am a dickhead, a very controlling dickhead but I can’t be that with her” I know my girl, I have a plan for her and it will work.

#Chrianna #Chrianna FF #Fanfiction

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thesinglesjukebox · 7 years

Video

youtube

TAYLOR SWIFT - LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO [4.39] Man, look what she made US do.

Elisabeth Sanders: Here is the thing about Taylor Swift: anybody that has truly loved (despite themselves) Taylor Swift has done so because of her sharp, frightening edges, because of the way in which she is the mean girl in the midst of a panic attack, because she's petty, because she's crazy, because she believes in things and at the same time when those things aren't as they seem wants to crush them in the palm of her hand. Any interpretation of Taylor Swift that doesn't incorporate this is simply bad research. In 2006: "Go and tell your friends that I'm obsessive and crazy--There's no time for tears / I'm just sitting here, planning my revenge." In 2010: "And my mother accused me of losing my mind /But I swore I was fine /You paint me a blue sky /And go back and turn it to rain /And I lived in your chess game /But you changed the rules every day /Wondering which version of you I might get on the phone, tonight /Well I stopped picking up and this song is to let you know why" In 2012: "Maybe we got lost in translation / maybe I asked for too much / or maybe this thing was a masterpiece / til you tore it all up." And finally, in 2014, a culmination of the songwriting combined with the publicity--well, just listen to "Blank Space." I can't quote the whole thing. At the time it was brilliant, a parody that dipped just enough into the real, a joke about both media extrapolation and actual content. But we're past the time for parody. It came, it was good, it went. The criticism still followed, for other reasons, for deeper reasons, for real reasons. Along with, I'm sure, superficial ones. But if "Blank Space" was Taylor Swift's petty Gone Girl fan fiction, "Look What You Made Me Do" is the unfortunate chapter in which we have to acknowledge that the fiction was never that self-aware, and that an excavation of complication, when confronted with complicated times, sometimes reveals not a complex sympathetic maybe-villain, but simply a person not equipped to be making mass art right now. Taylor's pettiness, her villainy, her strangeness, has always been her most interesting feature. Maybe, now, too many years into seeing but not seeing it, it's just--not that interesting anymore. She's not your friend, and she's not your enemy, she's just--well. As she says, "I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me." I think that might be her final truth. [3]

Stephen Eisermann: I've never been a big Taylor Swift fan -- I like her music well enough, but there was always something about the details she painted and the cards she showed that it felt a bit... made-up. Still, I always had a weird feeling that Taylor and I had very similar personalities and personal life trajectories (bear with me) and this song reinforces that. When I was younger and "straight" (16-18), I was very quiet, nice to a fault, and introverted. Thanks to my name and skin color, a lot of (racist) older people always said it was hard to believe I was a Mexican teenager because I was so quiet, polite, well-spoken and bright. Much like Swizzle during the "Taylor Swift" and "Fearless" era, I was considered naive but genuine-hearted and people loved to love my niceness. However, I soon started coming to terms with my sexuality and started being a bit more open with myself and others about who I truly was, just like we saw glimpses of pure pop and more evocative lyrics in "Speak Now" and "Red." I still built stories and a narrative that painted me as more mystery than gay, just as Taylor toed the line between squeaky clean young adult and Lolita, but I was a bit more willing to explore. Soon after, the inevitable happened and I finally had my first NSFW encounter with a man, and was even MORE willing to be who I really was. I let my gay flag fly and if people asked, I wouldn't dance around the question, but own who I was. Taylor didn't hesitate one bit when she announced 1989 would be a pop album in its entirety, and I didn't so much was stutter when telling questioning friends my realization. Still, a part of me hid things from ass-backwards family members and people who I knew wouldn't "understand," just as Sweezy continued to play the victim card to hold on to some of the innocence that was slowly falling through her fingertips like sand on the last day of vacation. However, there is only so much sand one hand can hold and BAM -- my family became aware of my sexuality and Taylor was exposed. I was at a crossroads -- do I drop my family and throw out ALL the dirty chisme I had accumulated over the years at different holidays, effectively exposing the most bigoted family members, or do I keep my mouth shut and weather the hate, being all the stronger for it? I wanted so badly to be vindictive and evil, but I choose the high road for reasons I'm not really sure I can effectively communicate. Taylor, however, has opted for the darker route. "LWYMMD" lacks detail, yes, but it's intentional. I just... I just know it. She has secrets up her sleeves she will soon reveal -- nobody willingly takes the villainous role without ammo, and Taylor has been MANY things throughout her career, but unprepared is not one of them. This song is calculated, petty, unnecessary, and very much beneath her, but it allows me to live vicariously through her and I want her to drag her detractors just as I want to drag my family members through the mud they continue to think I belong in. And just as my bigoted family members will get theirs, so will Taylor's enemies, I'm sure. [10]

Will Rivitz: "I think I have a part to play in this drama, and I have chosen to be the villain. Every good story needs a bad guy, don't you think?" -Lorelei Granger, Frindle (Andrew Clements, 1996) [9]

David Moore: Phonogram: The Immaterial Girl Kieron Gillen and Jamie McKelvie (Image Comics, 2015) Synopsis: Years ago, a young woman obsessed with music videos and mythic pop celebrity made a deal with the King Behind the Screen -- she gave up half of herself to gain the mystical power needed to eventually lead a coven of music obsessives. Now the deal's gone sour, and her darker, sacrificed self has switched places to destroy the coven with an ill-advised electroclash revival. [7]

Alfred Soto: Electronic swoops, piano on the bridge, lots of boom boom bap -- this single could be the new St. Vincent, or, to return to once upon a long time ago, to a track from Lorde's estimable Melodrama, a flop also largely co-written with Jack Antonoff. A skeptic of her first singles since 2009, I approached "Look..." with caution; on the evidence she's anticipated this caution. "I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me," she sings while soap opera strings add the requisite melodrama, and for a moment I thought she sang "I don't trust my body." I've never cared about biographical parallels in any art, especially in popular art where the insistence feels like conscription; the blank space where she wants the audience to write his/her/whatever's name is a sop to us. Less persuasive is the talk-sung part informing her audience that the "old Taylor" is "dead," as if Fearless fans needed an 808 dug into their faces. It will sound terrific on the radio. I'll skip it when I buy the album. [5]

Crystal Leww: The emerging narrative of Jack Antonoff as the next king of pop production is perplexing because his resume is honestly pretty thin. It's unclear what Antonoff actually brings to the table other than an amplification factor; Antonoff's songs have only been as good as his collaborators. This works when artists are working with a strong vision they can execute against -- e.g., CRJ's "in love and feeling like a teen again" on "Sweetie," Lorde's earnest wide open heartbreak on Melodrama. It is damning if artists are falling into their worst habits. Taylor Swift is a very solid songwriter -- it's nearly impossible to have the kind of career she had in country music if you're not -- but it always falls back on specificity, the emotional connection that she can forge with her fans when she knows what she's trying to convey. "Look What You Made Me Do" fails because it's unclear what it's about -- is this song about haters? Kim and Kanye? Her exes? The media? -- and Antonoff using Right Said Fred makes it all seem very clunky. The song sounds like it could have really leaned into a psycho ex-girlfriend vibe, but it's not self-aware, not funny, not sure of itself. Ultimately, "Look What You Made Me Do" isn't awful, but it's not catchy, which is its worst sin of all. Taylor Swift's still a decent songwriter ("Better Man" was great; "I've been looking sad in all the nicest places" almost made up for that Zayn collab), but this isn't even yucky -- it's just kinda boring. [4]

Katherine St Asaph: The curse continues. Maybe it's that the past month I've been listening to very little but "Anatomy of a Plastic Girl" by The Opiates and "Justice" by Fotonovela and Sarah Blackwood, and here's the exact conceptual midpoint. I've heard comparisons to electroclash, NIN, mall emo, Lorde, but I hear more Jessie Malakouti or Britney on Original Doll: frantic tabloid petulance, slightly updated with a "Problem" anti-chorus, but otherwise things I like. Otherwise, Swift's style has not changed: self-referential ("actress" and "bad dreams" shuffle her images to make her the heel) and threaded with subliminals ("tilted stage" is literal, "kingdom keys" keeps up with the konsonance) Just as "Dear John" parodied its subject's lite-blooz guitar, "Look What You Made Me Do" parodies the austere tracks of 808s and Heartbreak on, like "Love Lockdown" in curdled Midwestern vowels: trading soporific for loaded. The song has inevitably become about everything but itself. Her milkshake duck brought all the boys to the yard, and they're like, this is garb, and I'm like, the Internet deplorables haven't adopted this in any better faith than they did Depeche Mode; any of pop's myriad songs about the tabloids would read as "political" if transplanted into 2017 (is Lindsay Lohan's "Rumours" about FAKE NEWS?), and Swift's suffocatingly prescriptive "Southern" "values" pre-Red were as politically suspect as this, and more insidious. The next salvo of attack: its rollout being unprecedentedly gimmicky and exploitative, never mind how aforementioned Depeche Mode did the same pre-order thing, or Britney Spears upholstered-carpetbombed "Pretty Girls" in everyone's Ubers, or Rihanna's Talk That Talk was launched with gamified "missions", or Srsly Legit Band Arcade Fire spent months on fake Stereogum posts and fake Ben and Jerry's. Doesn't help that when Taylor is bad, she's stunningly, loudly bad; the second verse, in its magnification of the cringiest parts of "Shake It Off" and "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together," seems to last forever. (The phone call is fine, though; no one had a problem with "How Ya Doin'" or, like, "Telephone.") It's no good for catharsis, definitely not relatable, maybe on purpose: like being too sexy for your shirt, all you feel is cold. [6]

Katie Gill: On the one hand, Taylor using the language of abusers in the chorus of her song is clueless at best and worrisome at worst. On the other hand, blatantly riffing off of "I'm Too Sexy" is a surprisingly smart choice for a chorus and I'm shocked that I can't think of anyone who's tried it before with this level of success. But on the one hand, for a song about how she's getting smarter and harder, the lyrics don't reflect that, giving us some petty Regina George level nonsense instead of anything remotely resembling depth or nuance. But then again, that snake is pouring Taylor Swift some tea and all the Taylor Swifts are beating up the other Taylor Swifts in a battle royale hahaha this video is so amazingly dumb. I guess I'll split the difference and give it a [5]

Alex Clifton: I've always wanted give-no-fucks Taylor Swift, but I'm dying for context, as this album (and sing) will sink or swim based entirely on the narrative she creates. She's clearly setting herself on fire in order to rebrand herself, although I question her self-awareness. The music video indicates yes, with a brilliant 30-second scene featuring various Taylors mocking each other. Yet "Look What You Made Me Do" is also curiously passive, with a reactionary title and a bored chorus--more a sign of privilege and status. The ambiguity between honest, wronged victim and villainous persona here is intriguing, especially given Swift's penchant for earnestness; obviously she cannot be both, but the tension drives the song. The song itself is a mixed bag; Swift returns to the messy rapping last heard on "Shake It Off" with an equally cringey spoken-word interlude, but her voice is simutaneously delicate and confident as she comes out swinging. While I love seeing Blood!Swift writing a hitlist of enemies like an evil Santa Claus and the hint of confronting the less attractive/more honest parts of her role in the spotlight, only time will tell whether this is truly a playful new direction or more of the same old tune. (Also, what did we make her do? The answer is classic Swift, diabolically obvious: we made her write a song about it.) [7]

Jessica Doyle: A week on I still hear more self-loathing than anything else. Nothing the supposed New Taylor offers up comes off particularly convincingly; there's no glee in her reinvention. Compare the way she rushes through honey-I-rose-up-from-the-dead when she once sounded like she was thoroughly enjoying Boys only want love when it's torture. She doesn't sound smarter, or harder; look what you made me do, when she's spent the last eighteen months making a point of not doing anything. There's no air in here, no space beyond the multiple annotated versions and multiple thinkpieces declaring her a walking horsebitch of the Trumpocalypse. Just Taylor Swift practicing telling herself to shut up, Taylor Swift wondering about karma, Taylor Swift reading Buzzfeed and taking careful notes, Taylor Swift unable to make a point about anything at all except Taylor Swift. You don't realize, when you're in the thick of it, that self-loathing is just as relentlessly, narrowly egotistical as any other kind of self-obsession. It gets old, finally. It wears you out. It wears everybody out. Right? Yes? Can we all agree to be worn out now? Are we going to allow her to move on? She can't rise up from the dead if we don't let her die first. [3]

Cassy Gress: There was a time when I thought 1989 pajama-parties-and-kittens Taylor was the "real Taylor." I don't know if that really was. What I do know is that trying to figure out who the "real Taylor" is, and arguing on the internet about it, is fucking exhausting. So much of her musical output has been autobiographical, or meant to sound generically autobiographical to women listeners; so much of her reads as "pussycat with claws." Sometimes she emphasizes the pussycat side, soft and vulnerable; "Look What You Made Me Do" is the claws side. But Taylor, who we know has the ability to be nuanced and evocative, is here transmitting her intent (to destroy Kanye, or Katy, or Hiddleston, or her old selves, or just to be the cleverest sausage) like a hammer to the skull. This, like much else about her, is exhausting to watch/listen to. I would much rather close the blinds and put on my headphones and watch GBBO reruns in my jammies. [2]

Olivia Rafferty: Washing in with the arrival of her sixth album are a tidal wave of thinkpieces on Swift, all set within the context of her A-list feuds, miscalculations and politics, or lack thereof. We've all sifted through stories of fake boyfriends, cheap shots and oblivious colonialism, and I'm going to speak for all of us when I say we probably should just all take a goddamn break from the vortex. I'm placing LWYMMD in a vacuum for now. Reaching into the embarrassing depths of my personal history, I can draw up two different past-Olivias who would be a perfect fit for this song. I'm gifting the verse, pre-chorus and middle eight to my 10-year-old self, and the chorus to my 17-year-old self. Olivia at 10 would lap up the overly-dramatic opening lines, the "I. Don't. Likes" and their thick punctuation. It's served with the attitude that would have made you want to stick on a crop top and pick up one of your tiny handbags to fling about during an ill-prepared dance routine -- no, Mum, it's not finished yet! And the moment of absolute pre-teen glory is the cheerleader delivery of the spoken half-verse, "the world moves on another day another drama drama," I can literally see the Beanie Baby music video re-enactment. All of these melodic aspects are playful but lack the precision or maturity you'd expect Swift to deliver on this "good girl grown up" song. When the chorus hits you suddenly mature into that 17 year-old whose friends-but-not-really-friends played that Peaches song at someone's house party. You could probably embarassingly attempt a slut-drop to it in your bedroom, pretending you're a dominatrix who's just split some milk on the floor. But the overall impression is that if Swift is trying to be naughty, sexy or dangerous, she's missed the mark a little. Now at 25 I'm listening and thinking that the chorus still snaps, but if this track was an attempt at sexualising Taylor in a way that's not been done before, it's only made it clear that she's still got a lot of growing up to do. [6]

Joshua Copperman: From the first bar chimes sound effect, I was worried, and I suppose my feelings didn't improve by the time the "tilted stage" line happened. On "Out Of The Woods", Antonoff and Swift brought out the best in each other (Jack's big choruses, Taylor's specific references), but on "Look What You Made Me Do", they bring out the worst (Jack's obnoxiousness, Taylor's pettiness.) Antonoff can do flamboyant earnestness, especially when it blends with Lorde's self-awareness and quirkiness; he just can't do dark and edgy. Or even campy, apparently: the glorious video mostly takes care of that, giving the song an intensity and glamour that it doesn't have nor deserve on its own. Yet even the video often misses the humor inherent in moments like the terrible rap in the second verse, or the already-infamous lift from "I'm Too Sexy". The ultimate effect is like John Green praising a burn of himself without realizing why the burn was deserved in the first place. In this case, it's one Taylor saying to another Taylor "there she goes, playing the victim, again", even though the preceding song couldn't even play the victim or villain well enough. [4]

Mo Kim: There was a time in my life when I looked up to Taylor Swift. I was eighteen once, clearing my throat of all the doubts that haunted it, and the only way I had to express myself was through songs about slights that exploded like firecrackers. But a voice with that strength comes with responsibility. Sometimes you need to stop reveling in the volume of your own speech to see the platform of power you stand on; otherwise you might build a version of yourself on the rickety foundation of innocence only to find it crashing down. On "Look What You Made Me Do," she's still trying for the pottery shard hooks that once made her so important to petty queer kids like me. It works in bits and spurts: that second verse is a bucket of water and an emergency siren to the face, and the pre-chorus utilizes a sinister piano and eerie vocal production to great effect. Too bad, then, that the flimsy chorus and winky-face lyrics cave in on themselves more easily than almost anything she's written before (like a house of cards, some might say). That it so blatantly abjects responsibility onto her audience, however, is the biggest point against it: instead of personability, or at least the pretense of it, there's just layer after layer of metanarrative. Instead of a telling that acknowledges her history -- a complicated, troubling, rich one -- there's just Queen Bee Taylor, sneering over a landfill heap of old Taylors before she discards of all her past selves. I used to hold stadiums in my chest as I listened to the stories Swift spun; now I feel like the lights have finally crackled out, and here she is, dithering in the debris of her crumbling empire, and here we are, looking down. [5]

Josh Love: If Taylor wants to go in, that's her prerogative, but because this is a song that none of us plebes can actually relate to, it's only fair to judge it solely based on whether it goes hard, and I'm sorry to report that Taylor has no bars. "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together" and "Shake It Off" seemed like wild stabs at first too, but they possessed an inclusivity that's curdled into Yeezus-level petulance here. There's nothing here to suggest she's capable of making Reputation her Lemonade. At least the video gives me some hope that maybe she realizes she's a complete dork. [3]

Anthony Easton: This is the hardest for me to grade, because I still don't know if it is good, but it is constructed in such a way that people like me (critic, liberal elitist, homosexual) are pressed to have opinions. It steals with such quickness, and with such weirdness that the opinions give birth to other opinons, somewhere between a snake hall and the ouroboros she already quotes. It sounds like Lorde, it samples Peaches, it plays with electroclash, which was a genre that was already heavily recursive. It tries to be without feeling, but it feels all too deeply. That is enough to spend time with, that is enough to unpack. It sounds like Lorde because they are both working with Jack Antonoff. Who is cribbing from who here? Is Lorde playing like Swift, is Swift cribbing Lorde's lankness, are both pulling outside of their influence, by the commercial, mainstreamed weirdness of Antonoff? Swift was always pretty; her main skill was using guile to a stiletto edge. This edges on ugliness, but it is still "ugly." Women like Peaches or the cabaret singer Bridgett Everett know how to sing, have the ambition to sing well, but chose to reject good taste for social and political power. Taylor playing with being ugly, with being flat, with kind of half singing, with no longer being the cheerleader, is not a formal refusal of beauty as a political means but has the louche boredom of a hanger-on, with maybe a bit of anger at not being cool enough. It's a capital blankness that raids and doesn't contribute. Part of the ugliness of Peaches, part of the joy of electroclash, is not only how it absorbs the amoral around it--Grace Jones, The Normal, Joy Division, Klaus Nomi--but that the sex of it works so hard. The fucking is less pleasure than hard work--the grit of dirt and sweat and bodies. When Swift quotes Peaches, she is quoting the reduction of pop to a stripping down of bodies through a formal aesthetic choice. When she quotes noir, it is an attempt to self-consciously think of herself as a body who is capable of doing real damage. Swift flatters herself as someone whose suicide could be a nihilist aesthetic gesture. She flatters herself as a fatale. She's still the kid who does damage, and plays naif. You can't be pretty and ugly. You can't be a naif fatale. You can't pretend not to care about gossip and make your career about what people think of you. You can only be so much of a feminist and rest on your producers this much, and you cannot play at louche blankness if it is so obvious how much work you are doing. This might suggest that I hate the song, but I can't. Swift doing an "ugly" heel turn fills me with poptimist longing, and I want to hear more. [9]

Eleanor Graham: There is a bit in an old Never Mind The Buzzcocks where Simon Amstell says to Amy Winehouse, "We used to be close! On Popworld, we were close." And Amy Winehouse runs her hand down his face and says, half-pityingly and to thunderous laughter, "She's dead." I don't really know why I'm bringing this up except to illustrate that a woman killing off her former self, against Joan Didion's worldly advice, has a kind of power. The crudest hyperbole. Like Amy in Gone Girl. You don't like this thing about me? You wish I was different? Well, guess what -- I'M DEAD! This line, which Swift delivers with the manic kittenish venom of Reese Witherspoon's character in Big Little Lies, is the only redeeming feature of "Look What You Made Me Do." And yet -- even as someone who has openly thrown politics to the wind in the face of such forever songs as "Style", "State of Grace" and "All Too Well" -- this single is too hallucinatory to be a flat disappointment. Quite aside from the Right Said Fred debacle, the "aw" is reminiscent of Julia Michaels, the second verse of a lobotomised Miz-Biz era Hayley Williams, the production ideas of a mid-2000s CBBC show, and the whole thing of a middle-aged man in a wig playing Sky Ferreira in an SNL skit. Disorientating. Almost euphorically horrible. Say what you want about T Swift, but who else is serving this level of pop Kafkaism in 2017? [2]

Maxwell Cavaseno: Weirdly, everything works for me sorta kinda with the second verse. The percussion thuds in the distance just a little more effectively, and Taylor's whining drone of a rap screams up into that high-pitched melodrama, only to crash and burn into an anemic "Push It," as written by someone who forgot Lady Gaga once could fool us into thinking she was funny. Past that subsection and prior, however, the record truly never clicks. You get the sense that Swift, someone so eagerly to seize the moment, doesn't realize that the horror campiness plays her hand too hard. [2]

Edward Okulicz: Saved from being her worst ever single by an out-of-nowhere, brilliant, Lorde-esque pre-chorus (and the existence of both "Welcome to New York" and "Bad Blood"), this is pretty thin gruel for the first single off a first album in three years. Remember how dense her songwriting used to be? See how clumsy it is on this. Taylor Swift's devolution from essential pop star to somewhat annoying head of a cult of personality is complete. At least there'll be better to come on the album. I hope. [4]

Rachel Bowles: I am guessing (and hoping) that "Look What You Made Me Do" is Reputation's "Shake It Off," a comparatively mediocre introduction to what is ostensibly a good album with some timeless songs ("Style" in particular on 1989). Functionally the same, both songs have to reintroduce Taylor in a new iteration to a cultural narrative she cannot be excluded from, both heavy on self-awareness and light on her signature musical flair. Where "Shake It Off" felt anodyne and compressed, "LWYMMD" is beautifully stripped back, chopping between lowly sung and rhythmically spoken word over a synthesiser, strings or a beat -- verses, bridges and middle 8's passing, though ultimately building to nothing -- the chorus of "LWYMMD" being the swirling void at its centre, one that cannot hold, however fashionable it is to build then strip to anti-climax in EDM and pop. What did Taylor do? The absence of her critical action, the bloody, thirsted-for revenge, can only leave us unsatisfied, like watching a Jacobean tragedy on tilted stage without the final release of death for all. What's left is a painful, public death of media citations of Taylor, played over and over, joylessly. [5]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: 1989 is Taylor Swift's worst album, but that shouldn't necessarily be seen as a bad thing. For an artist whose vocal melodies were able to effectively drive a song forward, it was a bit odd hearing her rely so heavily on a song's instrumentation to do all the heavy lifting. Additionally, the painterly lyrics that drew me to her work in the first place were mostly abandoned for ones more beige (simply compare the most memorable lyrics from 1989 and any other album and it becomes very obvious). It didn't work out for the most part, but I was fine with the mediocrity. And considering how stylistically diverse the album was, I very much saw it as a stepping stone for a future project. Which is why I'm completely unsurprised by the doubling down of "Look What You Made Me Do" -- it's a lead single that's heavily tied to her media perception, finds her abandoning any sense of subtlety, and utilizes amelodic singing to put greater emphasis on the instrumentation itself. It's conceptually brilliant for all these reasons, but it doesn't come together all too well. Namely, the lyrics are almost laughably bad and distract from how physical the song can be, and her calculated attempts at announcing her self-awareness have reached the point of utter parody. That the music video ends with Swift essentially explaining the (unfunny) joke only confirms this. [3]

Rebecca A. Gowns: Every new Taylor Swift single is Vizzini from "The Princess Bride," letting us know that she knows that we know that she knows that we know that she is Taylor Swift, and since she knows that we know (etc. etc. etc.), she can be confident drinking the goblet in front of her, since she knows that she switched around the goblets when we weren't looking, and she's laughing like she's clearly outsmarted us, but little does she know that we've been building up an immunity to her odorless white poison for years. [2]

William John: The hyper-specificity is gone. There are no references here to paper airplane necklaces or dead roses in December or in-jokes written on notes left on doors. In their place, platitudes abound, choruses are forgotten, "time" rhymes with "time", and "drama" with "karma". The latter is pursued with a maniacal intensity, the parody spelled out rather brilliantly in "Blank Space" quickly undoing itself. Rather obviously, "Look What You Made Me Do" does not exist in a vacuum, and the timing and nature of its release are what render it particularly dismaying. Its author, not playing to her previously demonstrated strengths, is seemingly at great pains to fuel fire to certain celebrity feuds, all the while insisting on her exclusion from them. It wouldn't matter so much were she to denounce some of her new fans with the same fervour, but for some reason this era she's opted out of interviews, perhaps at the time when some explanation driven by someone outside her inner circle is most needed. It's one way to forge a reputation, indeed. I do like the way she screams "bad DREAMS!" though. [3]

Leonel Manzanares: An auteur whose entire schtick is about framing herself as a victim, now emboldened by the current climate to address "the haters" using the language of abuse, embracing villainhood. No wonder she's considered the ambassador of Breitbart Pop. [4]

Thomas Inskeep: "Don't you understand? It's your fault that I had to go and become a mean girl!" Yeah, okay, whatever, Ms. White Privilege. [2]

Anjy Ou: For the woman who singularly embodies white female privilege, it's kind of embarrassing that she doesn't have the range. [2]

Will Adams: If you had asked me three months ago, "Hey, between 'Swish Swish' and whatever Taylor Swift ends up putting out this year, which is the more embarrassing diss track?", I wouldn't have thought I'd need to think about the answer this much. [2]

Anaïs Escobar Mathers: "Taylor, you're doing amazing, sweetie," said no one. [1]

Sonia Yang: With an artist as polarizing as Swift, it's easy to make the conversation a messy knot about the real life conflicts she's had, but I find it more interesting to tune that all out and focus on the simplicity of her work as a standalone. "Look What You Made Me Do" is Swift at her most coldly bitter yet, but betrays the resignation of long buried hurt. It's "Blank Space" but with none of the fantastical fun; it toes the line between wary irony and jadedly "becoming the mask." Most telling is the dull echo of the song title in place of a real hook, which is actually a favorite point of mine. Reality doesn't always go out with a bang; it's more likely for one to reach a gloomy conclusion than stumbling upon a glorious epiphany. Musically, I'd call this an awkward transition phase for Taylor -- it's not her worst song ever, but it's admittedly underwhelming compared to the heights we've seen from her. However, I've sat through questionable attempts at reinvention from my favorite artists before and I'm still optimistic about the potential for Swift's growth after this. [7]

Jonathan Bradley: There is nothing Taylor Swift does better than revenge, and this is not that. This is the first Swift single that exists only in conversation with Swift's media-created persona -- even "Blank Space" turned on internally resolved narrative beats and emotional moments -- but it offers little for those who hear pop through celebrity news updates, not speakers or headphones. Compare "Look What You Made Me Do" to "Mean," a pointed and hurt missive that scarified its targets with dangerous care; this new single, however, barely extends beyond the bounds of Swift's own skull. "I don't like your little games," levels Swift, her voice venom, "the role you made me play." The central character -- the only character -- in this narrative is Swift, and she enacts an immolation. Her nastiness is the etiolated savagery of Drake in his more recent and loutish incarnation: lonely and lordly, "just a sicko, a real sicko when you get to know me." "I got smarter, I got harder in the nick of time" could be Jesse Lacey on Deja Entendu but sunk into the abyss of The Devil and God -- only it's delivered over ugly, the Knife-like electro clanging. The line that succeeds is classic Swift in its brittle theatrics: "Honey, I rose up from the dead; I do it all the time." The spoken-word bridge -- the song's most blatantly campy and deliciously gothic moment -- acts as a witchy incantation, walking most precariously the line between winking vamp and public tantrum. Swift has brought her monstrous birth to the world's light; contra the title, what it is we've made her do isn't even apparent yet. [8]

Lauren Gilbert: I was 18 when "Fearless" was released, and listened to it on repeat my first term of undergrad, feeling freedom and joy and hope. I listened to "We Are Never Getting Back Together" on repeat in an on-again-off-again relationship that should have ended years before it did. I listened to 1989 over and over again after recovering from a nervous breakdown and for the first time, really, truly focused on choosing a life of joy. I should be Here For This. I am not. Pop music thrives on specificity, and Taylor Swift in particular has made a career of writing about hyperspecific situations. This is... generic; it could be sung by Katy Perry, by a female Zayn, by Kim K herself. Taylor offers no hooks to her own life here, and perhaps that's not a flaw; female songwriters have the right to choose not to expose their own lives, and to write the same generic pop song nonsense that everyone else does. But as someone who bought into the whole TSwift authenticity brand -- even while I recognized it as a brand, even while I knew that she was a multimillionaire looking out for her own interests first and foremost, even as she was the definition of a Problematic Fav -- I can't really say I care that much about new Taylor. I could fault Taylor's politics and personality -- and I'm sure other blurbs will -- but the primary failing here isn't Taylor's non-music life. It's that there's no feeling here; it feels as cynical as the line "another day, another drama". Next. [4]

Andy Hutchins: "I'm Too Sexy" + "Mr. Me Too" - basically any of the elements that made "Mr. Me Too" compelling = "Ms. I'm Sexy, Too." [4]

Tara Hillegeist: Let's leave this double-edged sword hang here for a minute: Taylor Swift's personhood is irrelevant to the reality that she is a better creator than she ever gets credit for. Since her earliest days of the demo CDs she'd like to keep buried, Taylor Swift has never been less interesting or more terrible on the ears than when her songs are forcibly positioned as autobiography. For a decade she has cultivated an audience of lovers and haters alike that never felt her--or truly felt for her--because she never wanted them to know her, driven to own her brand even as she's deliberately averred to own up to what lies behind it. Witness the framing of an Etch-a-Sketch of a song like "Look What You Made Me Do": she releases a song about vengeful self-definition mere weeks after finally winning a years-long case against a man who sexually assaulted her and tried to sue her to silence over it on the sheer strength of her own self-representation, and the air charges itself with intimations that she instead meant it for Katy Perry, whose flash-in-the-pan "friendship" she publicly and memorably disowned in a bad song about bad blood an entire album ago, or perhaps Kim Kardashian-West, a woman whose "feud" with her arguably began with Taylor Swift's attempt to paint herself as the victim in an argument with Kim's husband but ended inarguably and decisively in Kim's favor. To claim someone would mangle her targets so ineptly even the conspiracy theorists have to resort to half-guesses and deliberate misquotes to draw out the barbs is a claim it's especially ridiculous to pin on a musician like Taylor Swift, a control freak who once built a labyrinth of personal references into an album full of songs about protagonists nothing like herself just to prove a point to anyone listening to them that closely about how sturdy the songs would be without knowing any of it. A public conversation that misses the point this drastically can only occur if there's a deliberately blank space where any sense of or interest in the person it's about could exist. There is a hole where this most powerfully self-determining popstar lives where a human life has never been glimpsed--because she cast that little girl and her frail voice aside years ago in search of something altogether more influential than such a weak vessel could ever hold. The girl who cajoled her family into spending enough Merrill-Lynch money to cover for her inability to sing until she had enough professional training to sing the songs she wanted to put to her name was never the girl who could truly be a flight risk with a fear of falling, was never the girl who never did anything better than revenge. But she wanted to be the girl who sang the words for that girl, who put her words in that girl's mouth, more than anything else in the world. She staked her name on nothing less than her ability to capitalize on the reputation she acquired. The Taylor Swift of Fearless and Speak Now was a Taylor Swift who believed she could be someone else in your mind, a songwriter dexterous enough to slip between gothic pop, americana-infused new wave, and pop-punk piss-offs without shaking that crisply machine-tooled Pennsylvania diction. A decade on, she's learned a lesson enough women before her already learned it's shocking she wasn't ready for it: when you're a girl and you make something about being a girl, everyone thinks you just had yourself in mind. The proof that she was more than that--more than the songs on the radio, you might say--was always there; it wasn't hidden, it wasn't obscured. But from Red onwards that Taylor began to die; a straighter Taylor Swift emerged in more ways than just her hair, all the kinks ironing themselves out in favor of her remodeling herself into a different sort of someone else's voice. Where once stood a Taylor Swift who sang for the sake of seeing her words sung by someone else's mouth back to her, there now stood a Taylor Swift who sang everyone else's words about her back to them. Tabloids cannot resurrect a life that a woman never lived, and no amount of retrospective sleight of hand about the girl she might have lied about being can hide the truth that neither can she. Conspiracy theories only flourish when people treat the mystery of human motives like a jigsaw puzzle waiting to be solved--ignoring that she already made it clear that was, still and always, the wrong answer to the questions she wouldn't let them ask. She wanted fame, she wanted a reputation; she wanted them on terms she defined; she never wanted anything else half as much as she wanted that. She has used every means available to her to earn them. Her awkward adolescence took a backseat to her life's dream of conquering America's radio. It's no shock, then, that all this gossip-mongering rings as hollow as a crown. The messy melodrama of Southern sympathy and thin-voiced warbles that defined the sweethearted ladygirls of generations before her and beside her and will define those that come after her, the sloppy humanities of Britney and Dolly and Tammy and Leann and Kesha Rose; these fumbling honesties, these vulnerabilities have never been tools in Taylor's narrative repertoire the way she uses the white girlhood she shares with them has been. She owned her protagonists' anxieties; but those songs have never defined her. This was always the moral to the story of Taylor Swift, to anyone--condemning or compassionate--who cared to really hear it: behind her careful compositions and obsessive pleas, Taylor Swift was never interested in making herself a real person at all. That would have cost her everything she ever wanted. And we, the Cicerone masses, ought very well to ask ourselves, before we let that double-edged sword finally fall: would it have been any more worth it, to anyone, if she had been? [2]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

#Taylor Swift #Look What You Made Me Do #reputatio

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theultraknight · 7 years

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The Guard Chapter 5 Beast saga Part 1: Scorched earth

Our heroes are walking out of school. Caesar reading a book, while Dillon and Amore talk.

Well more complaining on Dillon's part. "We've done nothing since Medusa went back to sleep."

"It's only been three days." Amore points out.

Dillon said like a bored eight year old. "Yeah, three long boring days."

"So you think not almost dying is boring?" Amore asks.

Dillon thinks about it for a second. "When you put it like that, I guess yeah."

Amore shakes her head at him. "Caesar talk him he's crazy."

Caesar continues to read, not hearing her. "Caesar." She calls again.

He brings his head from his book "Hmmm." Amore looks at him with worry. "You okay?"

"Yeah just was really into this book, you were talking about boredom."

"Dillon here seems to think that, not being in life threatening situations is boring."

"I don't miss that, but being a superhero was fun while it lasted." Caesar says.

"Well I know a place we can drown our sorrows, I heard they have amazing milkshakes." Dillon suggests.

Amore beams. "That sounds great I always wanted to try a milkshake."

"Wait you've never had a milkshake before?" Dillon's never heard of something so insane.

"No." She told him.

"That's terrible, let's fix that right now." He grabs Amore's hand.

Amore asks. "Caesar you coming with?"

"No, I promised I'd help my mom with some stuff."

"Okay we'll see you la...ter, Dillon stop pulling me." She demands annoyed.

"I would if you'd move faster." He retorts. Running off, dragging Amore along.

As they part Caesar walks off in the other direction. After a while he reaches the library.

He says hi to the librarian, and takes a seat in the back. He opens his backpack, pulling out his book.

A few minutes into the middle ages set story, he gets an idea. Getting his notebook from his backpack, he starts doodling.

He's not a master artist, but he's pretty good in his humble opinion. Once he's done. He takes a look at the drawing, satisfied with how it turned out.

"Caesar?" A voice calls. He turns around to see Dillon, and the voice who called him Amore.

"I thought you were having milkshakes." Caesar said.

"We thought you were helping your mom." Dillon returns.

Amore chimes in with an explanation. "I needed a book, why are you here?"

"Reading." He answers pointing to his book.

You feel the awkwardness fill the room. So Amore tries to end it. "I got my book, so we can go." Dillon and Amore with book in her arms. Start walking off.

"Wait." Caesar says running in front of them. "I lied, I'm sorry."

"Why?" Dillon asks.

"We've been hanging out for the last few days and, that's been great, but I like to be by myself, I just needed a break, and I didn't know how to say that without sounding rude."

"I don't think what you just said was rude." Amore tells him.

Dillon agrees stating. "Yeah, you could've just told us, we wouldn't had been upset."

Caesar takes a sigh of relief. "Thanks for understanding." Unfortunately this touching little moment is cut short.

A piercing roar is rings through the room, almost shaking the building. Our team immediately run outside, and when they see the cause of the ruckus they gasp.

A dragon in the middle of the park. With bright red skin, covered in scales that stick out from its' body, its' horns bent like bolts of lightning, and fire blazing from its' eyes.

It's roars again. Sending already terrified citizens, into hysterics. Running and shouting.

Amore looks on with wide eyes. "Is that?" "A dragon, yup." Dillon answers.

"Where did it come from." Caesar questions.

A burst of fire is blasted from the dragon's mouth. Screaming people try to flee the flames.

"We need guard up." Amore tells the boys.

Leaving Dillon with a questioning look. "Is that what we're calling it?"

Caesar can't believe this is a discussion right now. "We can decide that later, now do you see anyone around?"

Dillon with his supersight surveys the area. "All clear."

Now the three call out. "Guard!" Within a flash of colorful lights and, a clink. They're ready to go. Jumping to the sky, heading straightforward for the rogue reptilian.

Amore puts up a giant magical energy wall, between the beast and the people. The dragon keeps huffing, and puffing but, the wall won't burn down.😉

Amore turns to the crowd of people. "You all need to get out of here, if you find anyone take them and go, now move!" Her words make the crowd disperse.

The dragon gives up on the wall. Starts flapping its' wings.

Moments later, her teammates return. "We got everybody nearby out." Caesar informs her.

Amore stares at the dragon. "That's great, but what do we do about him?" The dragon flies over her wall. Unleashing a torrent of fire at The Guard.

They run as fast, as their can carry them. Taking refuge behind the brick park entrance.

"We need to lure it out of here, before it burns the city down." Caesar warns.

The dragon taking step by step, getting closer, and closer, its' infernal breath unwavering.

"I can use my law of attraction to bring it to the forest." Amore suggests.

Caesar likes her idea. Okay, but be careful."

"Always." She zips off, and settles midair right in front of the beast.

She opens her hand, looking down at it. She focuses on that, till her staff forms in her hand.

She starts calling out her spell. "Law of ...Agh." She is startled, by a stream of fire striking her hand. Causing her to drop her staff. A giant fireball flies through the air, and hits her sending her into freefall.

Dillon and Caesar chase after her. The former channeling, the power of the cheetah. Moving like a blur. He pulls to a sharp stop, with his arms open. Which are then filled by Amore.

"Are you okay?" Dillon asks. Amore a little groggy responds. "I'm fine, my armor protected me, but it still hurt."

Dillon puts her down, helping her stand. "I need to get my staff back."

"I'll get it." Caesar starts to run, but is cut off by a stream of fire. He leaps forward to the ground, to dodge the next flaming shot.

With the staff in sight, he runs as fast as possible. He dodges a shot of a fire, without missing a beat he moves onward.

Finally taking hold of the staff. He turns to the left to see, a breath of flame heading his way. He raises his arm up in defense.

Things begin to appear slowed down around Caesar, giving him time to think. He thinks of his drawing, from earlier with the intention, to make it a reality.

A three dimensional blueprint forms on his arm. The metal spreads out, from the center outwards. Until it's solidified as a shiny jet black shield.

That very moment time reverts back to normal. The stream of fire finally strikes the shield and, as the fiery assault continues, blazing wisps deflect off the disk.

It's not long, before the onslaught ceases. Caesar takes this opportunity, to run off with the staff.

Just as he reunites with his comrades, the dragon strikes again. But he blocks with shield. "Amore take it." He tells her, sticking his hand out.

Amore takes hold of her staff, and raises it high. "Law of attraction." Her staff's ring start to glow, waves to magic spiraling out from it.

The waves encircle the dragon. Next the dragon's fire stops, and its' attention turns to Amore.

"Amore I got a plan." Caesar said. The dragon huffs at Amore. "Okay, good." She said nervously, and takes to the sky.

The dragon takes off after her, and the boys follow right behind.

In the dragon's pursuit, it tries to use it fire breath on Amore. But she manages to dodge it.

It keeps shooting fire at her, and she's barely evading. So she takes a nosedive, falling yard after yard, then jets up.

The dragon focused on following her, and as a result stopped firing.

Amore looks forward, at the forest finally in sight. As soon as they enter the forest. She is knocked to the ground by a fireball.

Dillon and Caesar arrive, and go to her side. "You okay?" Caesar asked.

"I will be after a nap, and some ice." She was joking a little, but mostly serious.

"Caesar whatever plan you got, better hurry it up." Dillon tells him, while approaching their reptilian enemy.

Dillon makes a fist, and pulls his arm back. Summoning the power of the eel, his fist envelopes in electricity, and goes straight for a throat punch.

The dragon is dazed for a moment, but after it recovers it takes a swipe at Dillon, knocking him into a tree.

Caesar looks at his two beaten friends, Amore sitting still recovering from her skyfall, and Dillon who groans as he lies on the ground.

Caesar with his face serious, looks at the beast responsible, the only thoughts in his mind, protecting his friends, and slaying this dragon.

On bended knee he opens his hand, imagining his second and last weapon coming to life.

A sword, blade dark as night, the hilt black chrome like, front shaped like horns and a circular end.

He stands and, the dragon roars. Its' sound and breath hitting him like a force of wind.

A knot begins to form in his stomach. The dragon hit with a front foot. Caesar tries to block with his shield, but is knocked to the side. He rebounds quickly, the dragon approaching him.

It shoots a stream of fire at him, but he grows plane wings from his back, and ascends. Once in the air, he charges forward whipping his sword, and slashing the dragon behind its' shoulder.

The beast growls in pain, and swats at Caesar, but he flies backwards, and the beast misses.

The dragon unleashes another fire attack. But Caesar raises his left arm, and blocks the flames with his shield.

He's tired of this, so he's gonna try, and end it with one attack.

He charges forward shield first, pushing against the fire, embers flying in his face. He keeps going, and when he gets close enough. He dives at a ninety degree angle.

Landing kneeling on the dragon's neck, he grabs his sword with both hands, and brings it down on its' neck, but it won't cut. He stabs again, and its' skin still won't break.

The serpent shakes its' neck, but Caesar remains steady he takes his sword raises it high in both hands, and drives it into the dragon's neck. The dragon cries out in pain, collapsing on the ground.

Caesar's hands remain around the hilt of his sword, his head bowed, and breath heavy.

"Caesar." He turns his head to Amore(The one who called) and Dillon. Both who appear to be back to normal.

Caesar slowly climbs down, from the dragon's neck.

"You okay man?" Dillon asked, noticing Caesar was slightly leaning forward.

"Yeah, I will be."

Suddenly green lights appear and form a female shape. "I just woke from my rest, children are you alright?"

"I've felt better, I think we all have." Amore said.

"Don't worry, I can change that." And with a flick of her wrist, they are whisked away.

They're back in the garden. "Now stand still." She instructs them. Placing her hands forward of them, ribbons of energy begin to circle the teens.

The ribbons spin, becoming a maelstrom of magic. Our heroes feel their bodies soothe, and their fatigue fade.

The maelstrom slows until it completely subsides. "Feel better now?" Mother Earth asked.

"Very." "Much." "Definitely." Caesar, Amore and Dillon respectively respond.

"Good, now let's see about your dragon friend." In a flash of light, they are transported back to the forest. It's the same exact spot they left except.

The dragon is nowhere to be found. All that remains is Caesar's sword, which lies on the ground.

"Where is it?" Dillon asked. Him and everyone were looking around to see where the dragon could be.

"Maybe I can see it from the sky." Amore suggests and, flies into the air. She looks at the surround area, but nothing. "I don't see it, but maybe it's hiding under the trees." And she returns to the ground.

"I don't get how it disappeared like that, I put a sword in it's neck." Caesar said looking down at his sword.

"It's a mystery and so, is where it come from in the first place?" Mother Earth said.

"Dragons have been myths for so long, this can't be the first one right?" Amore questions.

"No it is not my dear, they are extinct, or so I thought, and if I was wrong about the dragons, I wonder what else I'm wrong about."

"Well what do we do?" Asked Dillon.

"You rest, the dragon is gone for the time being and if, or when it returns, you will need all your energy." Mother Earth tell them.

As they talk something watches from the bushes, completely unnoticed.

Fast forward after Mother Earth and the guard have parted ways. They stroll through the city's streets.

"I'm starving, Amore you want to get some food?" Dillon says, holding his stomach.

"Only if we get milkshakes." She repliers.

"Deal, Caesar you coming?" Dillon asked.

"You don't have to, if you don't want to." Amore added.

"Maybe next time, I'm gonna go home, and get some sleep." Caesar said.

"Okay, see you tomorrow?" Amore asked. "Definitely."

"See you later man." "Goodbye." Dillon and Amore said, hands waving. "Bye." Caesar returned. And with that they go their separate ways.

#theguard #writing #fiction #tumblr writers #fantasy #original story #action #magic #superhero #tapas #tapastic #wattpad #dragon #teen fiction #wattys2017 #ongoing series

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