#it's just me my girlfriend and her stack of taylor swift records

[winepresswrath]

it's all tswift all the time for me for the foreseeable future and i have to say my early impression is

a) I'm not wild about this in much the same way i'm not wild about midnights. it's fine. i'm sure there will be like five songs i come out of this really liking. a lot of these songs are brutally overcrowded and messy but i guess that's what she was going for.

b) exiting a six year relationship with one dude only to date another dude for three months and release an entire album about how you and mr. three months invented cosmic life changing twin hearts beat as one love and you're correspondingly devastated by the breakup is the move. no notes. good for her.

c) i love lana del rey and the national so me and taylor have that in common.

d) if i was going to make wild inferences about people i don't know based on taylor swift's discography it would be that matty healy and jake of red fame are the only two people she's dated who know how to fuck. a sad state of affairs for the famous men of the world.

e) taylor you are the most famous woman in the world and also a billionaire. i'm sure this comes with challenges but you can actually do whatever you want. even if other people say "wow those sure were some derogatory and racist things he publicly chortled along with." like i believe u the dick was good but that's not really a mitigating factor bcs he does not stand accused of not bringing enough to your relationship.

[rollingsins]

In the name of Taylor Swift

summary: You have to break up with Vada. In the name of Taylor Swift.

pairing: vada cavell x fem!reader

warnings: pure fluff.

word count: 900 words.

a/n: maybe one of the dumber things I've written, but I was in a fluffy mood for bbg Vada. Inspired by tiktok.

“Baby,” You huff dramatically as Vada walks through the door to your bedroom, “I’m glad you’re here. We have to break up.” 

Vada halts. She blinks, her brown eyes widening as her entire face falls. Her hands fall limp by her sides. She’d arrived, not two minutes ago, while you were toiling in bed, thinking seriously. Clutching a twelve inch record in your hands and deciding some things just had to be done. 

“What?” She asks, sounding crestfallen, “But I got you flowers.”

She gestures to the stack of lilies she has in hand. She looks wounded, confused, hurt. Like a little puppy you’ve just kicked in the face. 

Immediately, you sit up, heart falling. 

“No, babe,” You retract, reaching out to her. She blinks back at you, eyes as wide as chocolate buttons, “I wasn’t being serious.  Not a real breakup. A fake breakup. A fake-up.” 

Now, she’s confused. Her eyebrows knit together as you watch as she tries to work it out. 

“A fakeup?” She repeats, blinking slowly, “Why?” 

You tilt your head back to reveal your latest purchase. A shiny, purple vinyl of Taylor Swift’s latest record. 

“Taylor Swift just released an album and I need to experience it in full.” You say, quite seriously. You are serious when it comes to Taylor Swift. You’d thought Vada would know this by now. 

Vada stares. 

Your lips purse into a coo as you pry the lilies from her hand. 

“You got me flowers?” You say, rubbing your hand over her cheek, “That’s so sweet.” 

She smiles, a little shy. 

“Yeah. The lilies you like.” She says, and then she frowns again, “But I’m confused. Why does Taylor Swift mean we have to fake break up?”

“Because I need to be sad, babe,” You explain as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “I need to feel pain the way she felt pain when she wrote these songs.”

“Doesn’t she have a nice song?” Vada asks, a little dubious. 

“No,” You say immediately, “I mean, yes, but I’m saving those ones for when we get back together.” 

“But we’re not apart.” Says Vada, still confused. 

You can’t resist. You lean down and press a kiss to the pout on her lips. 

“We are as of now.” You tell her. You exhale, close your eyes and try to think of Vada breaking up with you. A sharp pain flashes through your chest. You imagine her looking mournful as she does it. Stuttering over her words. Looking almost embarrassed as she tells you she never wants to see you again. 

It works, for a split second.

And then you open your eyes. 

She’s staring back at you, looking sweet as ever. Tilts her head like a confused puppy. 

“Say something mean,” You prompt.

She frowns. 

“No,” She says, “I don’t want to.”

“Babe,” You groan, “I need you to make me sad.” 

“I don’t want to make you sad,” She says. She leans into you and wraps her arms around your waist, snuggling into your chest, “I want you to be happy all the time.” 

You groan. In all your grand-scheming plans, you’d forgotten you were dating a literal ray of sunshine. A golden retriever of a girlfriend who’d never gotten mad at you, or said nasty things about you, or even had a bad thought about you in her life. 

But you need this. 

“Please?” You ask, smoothing down her dark hair to look into her eyes, “For me?” 

Vada frowns. She’d do anything you ask, this you know. And it's hardly a big ask. All she’d have to do is tell you she never wants to see you again and you’d cry and listen to ‘Last Kiss’ and pretend as if your entire world is crumbling. 

And then have vigorous make-up sex to ‘Sparks Fly’. A win-win, truly. A rollercoaster of emotions.  

You squeeze her shoulders in encouragement. 

“Okay,” Vada says, sounding resigned. Her eyebrows knit like she’s thinking hard, “I… don’t like your shoes.” 

At this, you snort. 

“You don’t like my shoes?” You ask, “That’s the meanest thing you could think of?” 

She looks up at you, pout still on her lips. 

“Yeah,” She says. She curls back into your chest, “Because you’re perfect and there’s nothing mean to say about you.”

She pauses. 

“And I actually do like your shoes,” She mumbles into your chest, “I’d steal them if we were the same size.” 

You sigh, wrapping your arm around her shoulders and lean down to kiss her head. 

“How am I supposed to listen to the album when you’re being so sweet?” You grumble. 

“We could listen to the nice songs together?” Vada pitches with a happy smile. And then her lips curl into a coy smile, “And then we could listen to the naughty songs and make out.” 

“There’s no naughty songs, babe, it’s Taylor Swift.” You say with a laugh. 

“Oh,” She looks a little disappointed, “Well, maybe we could make out to the sad songs and pretend like we just got back together?” 

You hum. 

Making out with Vada does sound a lot better than fake breaking up with her. She emphasizes her point with a kiss to your chest. 

“Fine.” You relent, leaning down to press your lips to hers. 

She sighs, happily, curling her hand against the back of your neck to pull you closer. 

“I hope you can rest easy knowing I’ll never experience the blood-curling pain Taylor Swift felt writing ‘Dear John’.” You grumble against her lips. 

She pulls back, a smile on her lips, “Good,” She says, “And you never will. I promise.”

[olsenmyolsen]

Looking Back

Part 37 of On The Inside of Elizabeth Olsen

Word Count: ~ 4.9K

masterlist

"You and your girlfriend have been through a lot but finally seem happy. Things can change. They always do. Xoxo. Remember?"

"Let me see!" I reach over and grab the Polaroid to watch it slowly develop. "You probably blinked." They mock me before quietly looking away to their buzzing phone.

"Who is it?" I'd always ask.

I never cared who it was at first. Just always curious. But curiosity can get the best of us, especially when your stomach turns and your partner hides their phone every time you look.

"No one." They move their phone away and say, "oh look!" as our smiling faces fill the white frame. "You didn't blink this time." They laugh at their own stupid joke before pulling the photo from my hands to write on it.

Xoxo.

I kept that photo for months even after- I remember looking at the picture and seeing her big brown eyes wide as her smile. She was happy.

So was I.

But I wasn't faking it.

That moment of Naomi and I alone in our living room was two months before she hit me for the first time.

Four months before I discovered she had already been cheating on me.

Y/N POV

"Y/N?"

"Hmm?"

I pull my head to my right at Isabella, who looks at me curiously. "I've called your name like three times. Are you alright?" I turn my head back to face the opposite chair in front of me. Where Robert, or should I say, Bo Berger, just left from.

From the moment we sat down, we- he talked about the show from a couple of months ago. How much he enjoyed the performance of it all, especially at the end. He said it left him feeling empty and yearning. That is the exact feeling I wanted you to have. He also talked about the loss he felt and marveled at the stage that I built with the songs I chose and the music I played.

All of this to say. He actually gets it. And. I think Bo is my publicist now.

Well, not yet, at least...

I look down from the seat to the unsigned stack of papers in front of me. Contracts and legal documents for me or a lawyer to look over. Clipped to the front is Bo's business card.

He was friendly and has an in with a record company. The same company houses famous acts like ATM, Midnite Sun, Taylor Swift, etc.

During the meeting, he also put his number and email in my phone and sent me digital copies of the papers in front of me. I reach a hand out and begin picking up the documents and straightening them out. "I'm good," I reply to Isabella, who doesn't budge from her stance. "It looked like your meeting went well, but you don't appear too happy about it?"

Thanks, captain obvious. I internally roll my eyes. I'm totally telling Liz that Isabella flirted with me.

I turn now to look up at her with her hands in her apron. "It's just a lot..." I paint a smile on my face. "I'm happy. I truly am."

That's not a lie. I am happy.

I just.. couldn't focus during the meeting, and I missed half of everything this dude was saying. The boring half. Boring = important. So now I have to find a lawyer for all of this. Go back home to Liz before she leaves for her shoot tonight. And try and figure out who the hell gave me this note.

I let the chair squeak under me as I stand to rise above Isabella. "I'm good. We'll see you this weekend?" I ask the question but barely hear the answer as I move myself out of the cafe and into Liz's Prius.

Yes, we traveled with it to Texas. Duh.

I throw the papers into the passenger seat and pull my phone out. Dialing my best friend.

Maxine "Max" Moore.

After three and a half rings, the call gets answered. "Hello?" The other voice doesn't sound like Max's, so I guess I must be speaking to Ivy.

"Ivy?" I reply. "Yeah, hey, Y/N! I'm guessing you're calling for Max." I hear some movement from the other side. "Yeah. Sorry." "That's alright, one sec." I hear more shuffling followed by a distant "babe!" and "what?"

"It's y/n!"

"I'm in the shower?!"

"So?!"

This doesn't even crack the top five times Max & Ivy have taken a phone call when they definitely SHOULDN'T have. You can figure out the other times.

"Okay, here's Max! Bye, Y/N!"

"Bye, Ivy," I reply with a smile. I'm glad Max found someone for herself. "What's up?" I hear through the sound of water still going. "Are you still taking a shower?" I turn on the car and lean my head on my hand against the window of the vehicle.

"Yeah, dude. You're never going to experience it, but Ivy's bathroom is giant." I shrug. It probably is more significant than places I've lived in. "So, what's up?"

I open and close my mouth. Where do I start? The meeting? The note? "I- it can wait till you're done." "You sure?" "Yeah. I- just call me back-" "No. I'm not hanging up." Max states. "I'm going to set the phone down outside the shower, and you're gonna listen to me belt out Clean by Taylor Swift."

This isn't the first time she's done this either. I sigh and pull the note out as Max starts singing.

_

"Okay, now what's up?" Max says after hanging her hair up into a towel. "This is gonna be a long shot, but..." I flip the note around my fingers and think about what I'm really about to ask. "Do you think Naomi still has you blocked on Instagram?"

I get the words out of my mouth as quickly as I can before closing my eyes and waiting for anything to come through the silence on the other side.

Silence.

Silence.

And then.

"What..?!! Are- are you really asking me- y/n!?! Are you really asking me if Naomi Sanders. You're abusive and manipulative ex-girlfriend. The very one whose car I keyed and threatened to drown her ass if I saw her touch you again. You're asking if she still has me blocked?! I think I know the answer!" Max scoffs. Rightfully so, I might add. "What's this about? What's going on?!" Max bites back at me, worried.

I think on it. Do I tell Max? What do I tell her? 'hey, I got a weird note from a stranger, and I'm paranoid it might be from my crazy ex that Mary-Kate paid off'?

Like??

"I just.." I look down at the note again before opening the passenger-side glovebox and throwing it in there. "I- I don't know.. I was just wondering." I sigh. "I mean, even before Mary-Kate took care of her, I hadn't seen or spoken to her in months. I'm just worried, Max."

"About?"

"About something fucking this up for me. I mean, I'm at a great place. I have a beautiful and loving girlfriend whose one of the greatest actresses of our time. Not to brag." Max lightly laughs. "My dreams are on the cusp of becoming true, and I'm scared.. I'm terrified, Max." The phone goes silent. Max and I have known each other long enough to let the silence speak.

"I'll have Ivy see if she can see her account or anything. Okay?"

"Thank you."

"Of course, Y/N. Babe!" Max calls out before asking. "Username the same?" I nod before thinking."It should be. Maybe?"

"Okay."

I hear Ivy make a comment about Max's nakedness before realizing that her girlfriend is asking her something.

"Alright, she's grabbing her phone," Max informs me about Ivy's moves. "Alright, she's typing in the username. Oh! Her profile popped up! Oh my God, dude, she's not private anymore!! Holy shit!" I hear some light shuffling and giddiness from Max. "Oh yeah, click on her story!" I hear Ivy argue that Naomi could see that she viewed her story, but with some convincing, Ivy clicks on the 2-hour-old story. "Uh huh.."

@Naaaaomi28 Story Posted 10 hours ago

caption: fall is here but summer vibes remain

"What?" I ask, unaware of what the other two are seeing. "According to her story, she's in the Hamptons.." I roll my eyes. Of course, she is. Not like she could afford to go before or have extravagant things, but she lied as she did.

"Has she made any posts out of New York?"

The other side of the phone goes quiet for a second before I interrupt with a "Max?!"

"Hmm, oh y,eah! Sorry, I was looking at her story again, but uh, no yeah.. all of her most recent posts have been in New York, it looks like. Although she doesn't post as frequently as she used to."

Max thinks that last bit aloud. I raise an eyebrow curiously. If Naomi wasn't working, putting me down physically or emotionally, she could always be found on her phone.

"Wait.. you think?" I tune back into the conversation Max is having with Ivy. "What's going on?"

"Babe, click on her story again. Oh my God, you're right!"

"Guys. Left out here."

Max moves herself closer to the phone so I can hear her louder. "Sorry, but Ivy said that the house in Naomi's story looks like the one Ivy rented last month. I mean... she's got money now, but Mary-Kate didn't give her money money right?"

"I don't know, but..." I genuinely don't know. I rub a hand over my forehead and sigh. "I guess I feel better knowing she's in New York." "Yeah.." Max starts. "I mean, we know she's not the sharpest tool in the shed, but doing anything to you now would be dumber than dumb."

"Dumber than dumb," I repeat the words back, feeling a tad lighter, knowing that Naomi may not have been the person who I chased. "I'm sorry to call out of the blue. I just-"

"Y/N, don't sweat it. I get it." I smile, knowing Max would. "Plus, it's been a couple of weeks since we've talked, so let's stop talking about her, and you tell me what's up?!"

I want to tell Max about the perks of being your girlfriend's assistant and my meeting today, but I want to wait till everything is official, so instead, I pivot.

"You first! Why was this the first one I'm hearing about a Hampton House?!"

Max laughs loudly. "Sorry. Ivy just wanted to keep that Thursday night between us."

"Wait. Are you telling me Ivy rented a Hampton house just for one night??"

"No, she rented it for the week. We only used it the one night." Max laughs and then says, "Isn't it great we each found a sugar mommy at just the right time!" Max excitingly says before the sound of being slapped on the arm loudly shoots through the phone.

"Ow!!" Followed by a "Sorry..."

I can't help but laugh at this and then wonder if my anxiety is making me panic. Naomi wouldn't be stupid enough to follow me to Texas, would she? "So, anything new for you? Lizzie renting any houses besides that one in Texas?" I smile. "Nope. We're staying here through filming, only stopping for breaks and stuff."

"Oh, that's cool! How is it on set?"

"Well..." I draw out the word. Because truth be told, I haven't been to set as much as I should have. I have a good reason too! Seeing your girlfriend act as a killing cheater isn't the funniest thing to watch. But she knows this, so most days, I show up when she has to act with Jessica Jones herself, Krysten Ritter, or the kids on the show. "It can be entertaining and a little strange, you know, watching how things get made. Outfits are amazing!" I begin to ramble, remembering my favorite day on set so far. "She must've had to fall like 15 different ways. But her volleyball outfit. Jesus Christ, Max. I was practically drooling."

I should've stopped there, but I don't. I keep gushing about Liz and her ability to transform herself and act with her eyes. I swear she could do a one-woman show about her eyes, and I'd watch it.

"But everyone is very nice and respectful." There's silence on the other side until I sense Max going to open her mouth, but I stop her, already knowing what words my best friend is going to say. "Don't."

"What? How do you know??"

"Give the phone to Ivy."

"Y/N! What?! You're done talking to me?"

"Give the phone to Ivy, and I can call you later tonight!"

"Boo! You're no fun!"

"Love you."

"Love you too." I hear the phone being passed to Ivy, and her older girlfriend goes, "Oooh did someone get in trouble!" Before putting the phone to her ear. "What did she do this time?" I laugh into the phone as I let the a/c fully cool the car. "It's what she almost did."

"Ooh, and what's that?"

"She was about to call Liz a milf. Amongst other things, I guarantee. So watch her and tell Max I'll call her later." Ivy chuckles before I swear I hear a smirk on her face.

"Oh, don't worry, I'll keep her in line. Bye, Y/N."

Max is in for it.

"Bye, Ivy."

I don't end the phone call quickly enough before hearing: "Oh Maxine!!"

I toss my phone into the passenger side seat and let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

"Okay," I say to myself. "If it's not her, then what the fuck." I let my mind work for a few minutes before giving up.

With another groan and a wipe of the eyes, I look at the time and realize I need to get back home before Liz is late for her shoot. So I quickly grab my phone to queue up a Spotify playlist and directions back home. As I start my drive, I slowly let the dark thoughts of my ex dissipate as the excitement of the meeting I just had let itself be known.

For now.

Liz POV

I'm that person. I'm that person that picks up and puts down their phone numerous times in a minute when I'm waiting to hear from someone.

I've sent Y/N four texts since she was supposed to be home almost 30 minutes ago, and I haven't heard anything.

Now maybe her meeting went really well, and she lost track of time. Then great!! Or perhaps the meeting went terribly, and she's out there crying and feeling horrible. Not great! But I would love to be there for her regardless. However, I can't be there for her when she doesn't text me and let me know!!

Let me recheck my phone.

Nothing. Damn, it.

I'm about to text and call again before going Scarlet Witch on whoever when I hear tires in the gravel driveway.

In a split second, I'm out the door seeing a smiling Y/N with a stack of papers. So it looks like it went well! I swallow down the worry I had coming out of the house a replace it with a breath of fresh air.

"So it went good!?" I kiss Y/N and pull her into a hug before pulling back. Y/N nods her head but adverts her eyes.

Okay..

"Yeah, it went great. He was great and nice! The cafe was the perfect spot for it! But I was a little distracted, so I have homework!" She lifts her papers with a huge smile. But I catch every word she just said. "Distracted?!" I playfully ask as I shut the front door behind us. God, her ass looks great in those pants. "Yeah, kinda like how you are now." She shakes her butt a bit for me before I lift my eyes to see hers looking back.

Somethings off.

But I smile. Clearly, she doesn't want to talk about what might be bothering her. But being honest and open works both ways. "You didn't answer my texts. I was worried." I say, letting my voice know how worried I was. Y/N looks back at me with a face full of sorrow. "I'm sorry, Liz." I shake my head and smile before I ask, "What were you distracted by?" I slightly push the topic while grabbing the stack from her hands and placing it on the kitchen island.

"Oh..." Y/N pauses a second too long to let me know she'd about to lie. She's witty and brilliant but can't lie worth a damn on the fly. "Thinking about what my stage name would be if I sign." She says. "Oh!?" I'm surprised to hear that. Lie or not. "You wouldn't go by y/n or y/n y/l/n?" Y/N looks at me with a natural smile. "I don't know. What do you think? Should I go by y/n?"

(Author here. What should y/n go by!! Comment next to the one you like below or here if you have a different stage name idea. Okay. Bye. Love you.)

"Or maybe 'it's just y/n'?"

"Or 'yeah, it's y/n' like your username?" I suggest. She slowly nods. "Maybe." She leans herself off the counter and works her way around the island to me. Placing her body between the white isle and myself. She appears to want some comfort right now, which I'm more than happy to give.

"Or maybe I just go rogue and do something nothing like me. Like..." She thinks. "Like.. Kevin Opal!" She smiles at me, causing the two of us to crack up before continuing. "Or maybe... Lady Prim!"

"Hmm." I let her wrap her arms around my waist. "I don't know. Kevin might be growing on me." Y/N pulls her face away, almost disgusted. "Liz. You can't just say that. Also, you have to say, Kevin Opal! Not just Kevin. Plain Kevin is ew. That's gross." I roll my eyes and kiss her. "Sure, Y/N, whatever you say." She pulls me into another kiss and another before our eyes meet.

I want to ask her what's going on, but I don't want to push it more than I am. So instead, I say. "What about Hex?"

"Hex?" Y/N asks, confused, but I nod. "Weren't the Hex Girls a part of your gay awakening? It could be a homage to that." I playfully smile and wink at Y/N, teasing her. She lightly scoffs in offense before the ends of her lips curl up. "I do like it!"

"Of course you do." I make a smug face before kissing her soft pink lips. "I mean, I like your name the most, but whatever you choose to do, I'll support you, baby," I say those words looking her right in the eyes. She looks back and smiles. "I know. Thank you, my love. I like Hex too. But.." Y/N unfurls her arms from my body to turn around and grab a few of the papers from the stack. "I need a really good lawyer!"

I raise an eyebrow. "Babe, your best friend is dating one."

Y/N closes her eyes and sighs. "Right." She puts the papers down on the island, almost defeated. What's going on? "Hey.." I lift my hands to her head and tilt it up to look at me. "Y/N.." She bites down on her bottom lip when she brings her eyes up to me. "It's nothing.."

"It's not nothing." I immediately say. "Somethings clearly upsetting you. What is it?" I push. "Is it Bo? Did he do something?" I'll kill him. "Or do anything?" I gently ask, grabbing her hands in mine. "No." She shakes her head and makes eye contact with me. She's telling me the truth. "I just.." Y/N starts before stopping and pushing herself away. "You have to get to work. You'll be late. I'm fine."

I turn around and look at the kitchen stove displaying the time. "They can wait. I've told you. You come first." Y/N isn't wrong. I do need to leave for work sooner rather than later. "Whatever it is." I follow behind her as she works her way to a cabinet to grab her favorite cup.

We all have one, right?

"We talk things out. That's what makes this.." I gesture between the two of us, but she doesn't see it. "..work swimmingly. No more tiptoeing. Or will they, won't they? We talk. We're in this together, and together we talk about things." Y/N places her full cup of water down and turns to face me. She looks more tired than she did a minute ago. Clearly fighting with what she's hiding.

"Now, what's going on? I know you didn't do anything wrong. You say Bo didn't. Isabella probably flirted with you, but that bothers me more than you." Y/N gives me a small smile that I love to see. "So what is it."

Y/N looks up at me and kisses my lips before quickly spilling out what I had to coax from her. "I talked to Max and Ivy earlier today. Well, Ivy first because she answered Maxine's phone, but I needed to talk to someone else about... this.."

"This?" I question. Y/N puts her hands in her back pocket before pulling them back out empty. She motions over to the papers on the island. "This." She says. "This life. What if it all- What if this castle I build comes crumbling down?" Y/N looks at me and gives me a soft, sad smile.

"You and I would be fine. I don't doubt that, Liz. But I..I don't think I'd do okay if something o-or someone came in a-and fucked it up for me." She pulls her lips into her teeth again. At the same time, I run my hand up the sides of her face and push her hair behind her ears. "Someone?" I ask as I move my hands down her arms, pulling my Y/N into a tight hug and letting her rest her head against mine.

"Naomi," Y/N speaks the name as if it cuts her tongue just to say it. "Oh," I say. We haven't talked about her in months. Y/N does for therapy but not me. "You think she would do something?" Y/N nods into me. "I had a thought." A beat passes. "That's why I called Max.. and Ivy. We checked her Instagram, and she's still in New York living her best life, I guess.." I softly pull Y/N out of the hug and have her look me in the eyes.

"Oh, baby.. She's not going to ever do anything to you. As long as I'm around." I smile at her. "As long as you have loving and caring friends like Max, Ivy, Mary-Kate, and whoever else. And this.." I point to the papers one more time. "This is yours. You did this. No one can take this away from you. Try as they might." I lean in and give her a nose scrunch that I know melts her and a kiss.

Our lips part before Y/N pushes them together again. And again. Pushing me against the kitchen island. This kiss and the ones following and full of love but are yearning for more.

My hands find themselves at Y/N's hips, and I'm fully ready to let this happen if she wants it to before I taste it.

Salt.

In an instant, I pull my hands free and head back to see tear marks down Y/N's face. "Babe-" "I just love you so much," Y/N says through a chocked up sob before her body falls into my arms and my whispered sweet nothings. "I love you too, Y/N. I love you."

_

Over two and a half later, I'm sitting in my black Prius, getting ready to start my drive to set. I tried calling my director Lesli Linka Glatter to call off the shoot tonight, but Y/N saw me and ended that. I don't think I should be spending tonight away from her. But she persisted I went to work.

So I called them and profusely apologized for being late.

Y/N and I talked, shared some tears about the worries she has been having, but she seemed more stressed about talking to me about it since she didn't want me to worry. But I'm always going to worry for my Y/N. Even if she has a crazy ex or not.

Because Y/N has been gently blowing up online, she's about to have her first publicist. Who has her lined up for a potential record deal. On top of that, she's dating me. Oh, and not to mention all of those things, plus she's a woman. Everyone is going to expect everything from her but not want her to say anything about it.

All I want is for her to be her and to be able to say whatever she wants.

And as I sit here in my car, she's on the phone with her therapist. Y/N said after that call goes, she is going to call Ivy and get her opinions on the contracts and help her get in contact with a lawyer closer to home.

Home.

LA. For us.

Oh shoot, that reminds me. I pull my phone out to call the one person I meant to earlier about plans for Thanksgiving.

"Hi, Lizard!"

"Hi, Mom!" I respond cheerily as I connect my phone to the car's Bluetooth before looking up and seeing Y/N rush out of the house to the side of my car. "Oh, wait one sec, Mom." I roll down my window as Y/N leans herself against it. "What's wrong?" I ask, ready to stay in for the night.

Y/N smiles at me. "Nothing. You forgot this.." Y/N says, confusing me before she quickly kisses me and laughs. "We're gross." She whispers in my ear, earning a hearty laugh from me.

"Lizard?"

Y/N, shocked by the other voice in the car, shoots herself up, causing her to hit her head on the roof of the Prius, earning a quiet "ow."

"Still here, Mom," I speak to the car before looking to make sure Y/N is okay. She runs her hand over her head and gives me a sad nod. "Mom?" Y/N questions in a hushed tone. However, before I can answer said, Mom speaks up again. "Was that Y/N I heard?" Y/N shakes her head, no, earning a laugh from me. "Yes, we're both here."

"Oh, how wonderful. It's a pleasure to be able to speak to you, dear, finally."

I look to Y/N, who isn't ready to speak to any of my parents yet, but I watch her swallow down her nerves for the moment. "It's a pleasure to speak to you as well, Ms. Olsen. How are you doing?" Y/N looks at me worriedly, but I return with two thumbs up.

"Oh, Y/N, please call me Jarnie. Now how is my Lizard treating you?"

Y/N looks back at me with a mischievous grin.

Oh god.

Instagram

@NSanders28 🔒 Private Story Posted a week ago

Y/N POV

"And if it didn't catch you on it this morning, when were you going to tell me about your new secret private Twitter and Instagram account Liz??" I question my girlfriend for what must be the sixth time this morning as we walk up the steps to Jarnie's house on this Thursday morning. "Once again, Y/N. It's literally only for you." She bites back a proud smile. "You were supposed to take longer in the shower anyways." Liz shrugs.

Or should I say @ynsgreenreptile shrugs.

"Oh, was I?" I curiously ask. "And why is that?" Liz quickly hits the doorbell. "Because I know I left you wanting more." I wrap my arm around her and kiss the side of her ear. "Why do you think I followed you out a few minutes later?" I whisper and pull away as the front door to this mansion opens up.

"Happy Thanksgiving!" A particular half of the twin duo yells as they come flying out and into Liz.

"I'm pretty sure we're not supposed to be celebrating this holiday anymore anyways." The other half comes out of the door screaming into me. Liz and I both laugh and greet each sister. "Come on."

"Why'd you ring the doorbell instead of waltzing right in?" Mary-Kate questions closing the door behind us as we take our shoes off.

"To announce our arrival, duh." Liz rolls her eyes at her sister, throwing me off a little before I notice MK stick her tongue out.

That's when it hits me. I've never seen Liz privately interact with her siblings.

"Mom, you're favorite daughter is here!!" Liz takes my hand and begins dragging me through the house with a child-like smile full of glee.

Oh, this is going to be a gas.

Part 38

A/N: at least until the Dad shows up am I right??!!! No it'll be fine. Maybe. 🤪

Liz's account name on here is real. I have it. On Instagram and Twitter. It's a backup to my other account OlsenMyOlsen on Twitter.

sorry this one is shorter than most. Between buying a house, remodeling it, having the ac break, barbie and writer's block it's been really hard to write lately but I have a lot of ideas for the future!!

Anyways love you all! See you next time. maybe time skips coming up!

[extremelyblackandwhite]

daylight

pairing: james “bucky” barnes x reader

warnings: fluff, touching

a/n: i merely wrote this because of me and @sarge-barnes-sir​ discussing domestic!bucky because it makes me warm and fuzzy. also loosely inspired by daylight from taylor swift (meaning i was hearing to it when writing it so it might’ve slipped)/

The daylight slowly creeped up as the sun rose in the horizon, bathing the small bedroom in golden hues. The once moonlight bedroom was now glowing golden, from the barely empty red wine glasses on the bedside table to the red henley laying on the floor. Even the smells of the bedroom appeared to be new, almost fire-y but not burned and the air was so golden, she could see the small specks of dust flowing in the air through her sleep filled eyes. She moaned out of content, rolling around in the mattress, feeling the soft teddy fleece comforter tangled in her naked legs. Bucky wasn’t in bed, he barely was during the weekdays; he would always leave before the crack of dawn to go on a run and while she would join him most of the times, this morning Bucky had let her sleep, let her rest from a long weekend of coursework. 

She let a small smile creep on her face as her head buried deeper onto her pillow before the faint smell of pancakes started to invade the small bedroom. Y/N rolled around in bed once more, this time to the edge, grabbing his henley and putting it over her head as her bare feet touched the newly carpeted floors of Bucky’s small one bedroom Brooklyn flat. She moved slowly through the room, twisting the small door knob which led into the kitchen/living room area and there he was. She leaned against the edge of the door, watching him in his safe space. It made her happy, it made her happy he had learned to see his own home as his safe space, as somewhere where everything else was white noise. He stood in front of the hob, shirtless with his dog tags on and his yoga trousers loosely hanging from his hips, giving her a peek of his black boxers.  She approached him, feet lightly touching the ground yet she knew he could probably hear her but she didn’t mind. She wrapped her arms around his torso, kissing his back before leaning her hand against it. 

     - Go back to bed. - Bucky said in a playful tone, flipping the pancake around with the ridiculous pink, sparkly spatula Y/N had bought for herself during her fresher year and had later brought into his flat once they moved in together. She had to admit, it still made her giggle a bit to see a super soldier with a bionic arm flipping pancakes with a sparkly pink spatula. - You just can’t let me give you breakfast in bed, can you, doll?

     - I missed you. - she said in her still rather rough voice from sleep and from yelling out his name the night prior. - Nice run?

     - Missed my partner. - he turned the hob off, turning round to hold his girlfriend against his chest. - It’s just not the same when I don’t have you to tell me I’m a very fast old man.

    - You should’ve just stayed in bed with me. - she looked up at him, standing on her tippy toes to kiss his nose. - You need rest days too.

    - How come you don’t listen to me when I tell you that, hm? - he leaned down to kiss her softly, kissing her lips, then pecking her nose and forehead. She was always so warm, so soft. - How do you want your pancakes, doll? I got some nice berries from the market.

    - Honey and blueberries, please. 

    - Always the same, hum doll?

    - You’ve been listening to the same songs for over several decades, mister. You do not get to critique my pancake choices.

   - You should put maple syrup on it.

   - I thought you liked maple syrup on me. - she winked at him as he started to divide the stack of pancakes into two two plates.

She slightly tightened her hold on him, merely listening to the background noises as he felt the warmth of his skin against her cheek. He always had some old records playing on the background in a very low volume, he’d do it so much that every time she heard that little old vinyl noise, she’d correlate it with him. Yet, it was nice. It was nice to be together like this, with nothing and no one but them. The two of them made their way back to the bedroom, laying down against the mountain of pillows and blankets in the bed with their breakfast. 

    - What do you wanna watch? - Y/N grabbed the remote from the bedside table before moving to cuddle against her boyfriend.

    - The witch wife show. - he said nonchalantely, kissing the top of his girlfriend’s head before digging into his pancakes.

    - Bewitched? How come a super soldier cannot remember the name of a TV show. It’s just one word.

    - I know the title. 

    - Do you?

    - Yes, but I just love it when you say it. 

    - You’re a goof, Bucky Barnes.

    - Yes, but I’m your goof.

 She rolled her eyes playfully before pressing play on the remote before pushing the comforter to cover them just up to their hips. Nothing else but the two of them, the TV and the golden daylight bathing them. Bucky Barnes was no longer defined by what he hadn’t had chosen, he was defined by the things that he loved and one of those things was the girl next to him, illuminated in golden daylight. 

[leigh-kelly]

A Toast to Innocence

Merry Christmas everyone! It’s been awhile since I’ve written anything new, but I wanted to put something up for Christmas. This takes place in the Same Old Lang Syne/Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot verse.

It’s been four years since you ran into Santana in the grocery store after your long breakup, four years since you got back together on New Years Eve, and things are better with her than you ever could have imagined. Of course, the state of the world has been a total disaster, but being with her has just made you feel like everything is going to be okay.

She hadn’t been on tour, of course, since she abruptly flew home from Phoenix in March of 2020, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t been busy. Like Taylor Swift, she’s been writing from home and recorded 3 albums in the past 21 months. She tells you that she prefers this, and you make her promise that she’s not saying that just because of what happened between you years ago. But she doesn’t. She really is enjoying the feeling of being settled, and though your university has reopened and you’re back at work, coming home to her every night is a treat like nothing else.

When you came home, she was quiet for a moment, and then she started talking. She asked you what you’d think of being a foster parent, of caring for a child who had nowhere else to go. Something about it touched you so deeply that you found yourself smiling and nodding. Your own father had taken you and your mother in, he’d given you a place to call home and the love of a parent. To be able to do something like that for someone else...well, that felt really good.

So that was how Penny came into your lives at the start the year.

“Hey, Brittany.” She grins, looking up from her set. “I’m glad you’re home. Santana said we’re going to make more Christmas cookies tonight.”

“Santana and the Christmas cookies.” You laugh, thinking how you’d never imagined in a billion years that your girlfriend would be someone who would make 500 cookies. “How was school today? Glad to be on Christmas break now?”

“I am, and it was really good! My Secret Santa loved the Playmobil thing.”

“I’m glad! And I’m even more glad that we get a whole week and a half to hang out!”

“It’s okay if you and Santana want to do stuff. You know they have that winter camp thing at my school so I can just go and be out of your way.”

“Hey.” You plop down on the floor beside Penny. “We want you here with us. You know that, right?”

“I’ve never had a foster home where the adults really wanted me around, so...it’s okay.”

“This is different, Penn. You’re part of our family.”

You’re certain you hear Penny mumble a “for now” under her breath, but you don’t mention it. Instead, you just sit with her for a few minutes, enjoying your time together. You look up at the tree above you and you smile a little, thinking that Penny’s worries won’t always be there, thinking that you and Santana can really make a difference.

When you get up to change, you find Santana in the bedroom. She’s surrounded by gifts and wrapping paper, but she stands quickly to kiss you. Sometimes it’s hard to imagine that you’d ever spent those years apart, just looking at her makes you feel like you’ve done it every day forever. Her eyes are bright and you squeeze her hand.

“Did you finish getting everything for her stocking?” She asks and you nod.

“We’re all set now, I think.”

“And the big gift?” She cocks her head to the side. “Still on board?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more on board with anything.”

You help her finish wrapping the gifts, knowing Penny will be busy with her Legos for awhile, and then you stack them back in your closet. Penny doesn’t believe in Santa, she’d told you that while you’d watched the Thanksgiving Day Parade, both that and the fact that she’d never had a real Christmas before, so both you and Santana have wanted to do everything in your power to make this one extra special.

Once everything is away, you go back downstairs and you find Penny just laying on the floor, staring up at the tree lights. It makes you smile so big, watching her face light up with wonder. Santana squeezes your hand and rests her head on your shoulder, and you just stand there, amazed by someone witnessing the magic of Christmas for the first time.

“Are you not going to Ohio for Christmas because of me?” Penny asks suddenly, sitting up.

“Of course not, Penn.” Santana assures her, getting down on the floor. “It’s just safer to keep it the three of us. And if we were going to Ohio, you’d be with us.”

“Can I tell you something.”

“Of course.” You smile.

“I’m happy I get to have Christmas with just you guys. If it’s okay, I can help make breakfast. I saw Christmas tree pancakes with sugar snow on them. Do you think we could make them? I’ll clean everything up!”

“Hey.” Santana sets her hand on Penny’s shoulder. “Remember, you’re not here to clean things up, we’re all a team. After Christmas tree pancakes, we’ll all clean up together.”

“Oh, okay. I just don’t want to make more work for you.”

“Honey.” You try not to sigh, hating that she’s always so worried about that. “We always make a big Christmas breakfast, you’re not making any more work.”

The rest of the evening and the next day pass quickly. You spend the morning of Christmas Eve taking a long walk to look at the decorations and Santana teaches Penny how to make tamales. When the evening comes, you don’t nudge Penny to leave our cookies for Santa. You figure things having to do with Christmas are confusing enough for her, you don’t want to add any stress to it. She has a hard time with the build up to things anyway, probably because she is so used to getting let down.

Instead, you make hot chocolate and when you all sit down on the couch together, you read The Night Before Christmas. It’s a tradition from when you were a kid, and you like sharing it with her. She’s getting sleepy, you can both tell, so Santana gets up and brings a box from downstairs. When she hands it to Penny, her eyes go wide and you give her a soft smile.

“This...is it for me?”

“It is.” Santana tells her, then sits back on the couch beside her. “Just something my mom always did.”

“I—hold on!” She jumps up from the couch and bolts upstairs, coming back down with a wrapped package. “I didn’t have any money, but I made you both something.”

“Penny.” Santana lights up brighter than the Christmas tree. “Thank you.”

“Do you want us to open this first, or you open yours?”

“I want you to open yours.” Penny says with no hesitation. “It’s not super great or anything, but—“

“Penn, we’ll love it.” You promise her and watch as Santana starts peeling back the paper. Inside, you recognize the pretty drawing book that you’d given her when she first moved in, and you smile. Santana carefully turns the pages, and it’s her time with you in pictures. It takes everything in you not to cry, but Santana isn’t so successful. “Wow.”

“I don’t know how long I’m going to get to stay with you, but I just wanted you to know that I’m really happy I’m here now.”

“Penny, this is the best gift we’ve ever gotten.” Santana touches her hand, knowing that she’s still not crazy about hugs. “Thank you.”

“You’re something else, kid.” You blink rapidly. “Thank you so much.”

You’re both overwhelmed as Penny opens her Christmas pajamas. The joy on her face is so surreal that you can’t even imagine where the next morning will bring. She immediately goes upstairs and changes, then comes back down with the biggest grin on her face. Though she probably should go to bed, Santana puts on A Charlie Brown Christmas and you snuggle with your girlfriend on the couch while Penny sprawls out in the chair.

You’re the first one up the next morning and you peek into Penny’s room, seeing that she’s still sound asleep. You go downstairs and make coffee, then just as you’re about to carry a mug for Santana upstairs, Penny appears at the bottom.

“Whoa.” She exclaims, looking at the tree. “You guys sure get a lot of presents.”

“Penn.” You laugh a little. “I think you might want to check the names on them.”

“For me? But I already got my present last night.” Penny tugs on her shirt, showing the Christmas pajamas.

“Well, I think there’s more where those came from.”

Almost immediately, she sinks down on the floor, just totally in awe of the stack of gifts under the tree. You’re glad it doesn’t take long for Santana to come down. You kiss her good morning, hand her the mug and get on the floor beside Penny.

“You can open them, you know.” Santana gently encourages her.

“But...there’s too many presents. I...you didn’t have to buy me stuff.”

“Honey, we wanted to.” She smiles, nudging your shoulder as you both watch your foster daughter take it all in. “Go ahead.”

In all of your life, you’ve never seen a person more grateful for gifts. It both breaks your heart and makes it swell at the same time, seeing this sweet little girl experience this kind of magic. Carefully, she stacks up her new Legos and art supplies and clothes and all the other things you’d both seen and felt like she needed to have.

“This really is the best Christmas anyone ever had, ever ever!” Penny exclaims. “When I have to leave, can I take one Lego set with me?”

“Penny.” You start, and Santana nods. “We have one more thing for you. But it’s up to you if you want it.”

“Another thing? This is so crazy!”

You watch as Santana takes the papers you’ve gotten put together out of the folder they’ve been in for safekeeping, and she holds them close to her chest.

“Sweetheart, we really don’t want you to leave. We love having you here and want you to be an official part of our family.” Santana begins. “We understand if you don’t want to, and that’s okay. You can still stay here as long as you’d like, but if you wanted to stay forever, that would be okay too.”

“Forever?” She asks, eyes wide. “I don’t think that’s allowed to happen unless...”

“We’d really like to adopt you.” You smile, watching her turn everything over in her head.

“Really? But why?”

“Because we love you, Penn.” Santana has tears in her eyes and you lean to brush them away. “We love you so much.”

“I really love you guys too. And I never had a real family before.”

“Santana and I have had our family with just the two of us, but it would be pretty awesome if we had one more.”

“One time Santa came to my school and I asked him for a family.” Penny says quietly. “Before that, I thought he must not be able to find me because I had to be in so many houses. But when I didn’t get my family, I figured out he wasn’t real. But...maybe it just took him awhile?”

“I think maybe that’s right.” You laugh a little. “So what to you think?”

“I think I really want to get adopted!” Penny throws her arms around both of you, and it’s the first time she’s ever hugged you. “I promise, I’ll be the best kid ever.”

“We just want you to be you, Penn.” Santana assures her. “You’re more than enough for us.”

[joealwyndaily]

 Joe Alwyn — Red Magazine (Jan 2020) interview 

You’d think that a back-to-back Hollywood movie career and a megastar girlfriend might have changed Joe Alwyn, but he’s quick to assure Nathalie Whittle that his feet remain firmly on the ground. 

“So you didn’t see the part where the aliens attack?” asks Joe Alwyn, a playful smirk on his face. He’s referring to his latest film, Harriet, which I had a sneak preview of the previous day, although the fire evacuation (false alarm) meant I missed the ending. The biographical drama tells the story of Harriet Tubman (played by Cynthia Erivo), the historic abolitionist who escaped slavery and led hundreds of others to freedom. Alwyn plays her insufferably cruel and capricious slave master Gideon Brodess. He is, of course, joking about the aliens. At least, I hope he is. Today, we’re tucked away in the corner of a dimly lit bar at London’s Covent Garden Hotel. It’s the sort of drizzly afternoon that might dampen the moods of most, but not Alwyn. He appears cheery and at ease, sporting country casuals: a grey mohair jumper, blue jeans, and brown boots along with an unkempt beard; perhaps an attempt to disguise the boyish good looks he’s become known for. He stops to interrupt me only once with a look of alarm: he’s forgotten to offer me something to eat or drink. I can have anything I want, he assures me.

At 28, Alwyn has had the sort of career trajectory that most aspiring actors wistfully dream about for years, even decades. His education included a degree in English literature and drama at the University of Bristol, followed by a BA in acting at London’s Royal Central School of Speech and Drama. But within two weeks of his graduate showcase, Alwyn received a life-changing phone call. He refers to it as the thing “I owe everything to.”

“I’d just signed with an agent and I was kind of pinching myself, you know, how surreal is that?” he says. “She sent me a portion of the script for a film, Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk, that Ang Lee was directing. I’d grown up watching his films — Brokeback Mountain and Life of Pi — so I couldn’t believe I was even going to do a tape for someone like that. I got my dad to film me in a scene in my bedroom and some mates to film me during a lunch break. The next thing I know, Ang wants to meet me in New York.” Cue a series of auditions and screen tests that led to Alwyn bagging the title role in his first big-budget Hollywood film. He was just 24. “It was so much so fast that I didn’t really compute what was going on,” he concedes. “Before that I was just a poor student who barely understood how people got auditions, let alone landed jobs.” Did he have any jobs before that? I ask. “I did have this one job in London,” he says wryly. “Do you know that frozen yogurt place, Snog?” I’m struggling to picture Alwyn serving up frozen delights. He’s laughing now. Was it a good gig? “Exceptional!” More laughter follows. “I mean, I was paid some money! Then I worked in a menswear shop. I did what I could to make some extra cash.”

A far cry from a frozen-yogurt counter, doors started opening to bigger and better opportunities as soon as Billy Lynn hit cinemas. The next script Alwyn read was Yorgos Lanthimos’s The Favourite (released in 2019), in which he secured a small but riotous role as young baron Samuel Masham alongside acting greats Olivia Colman and Emma Stone. “Putting on giant wigs and running around in make-up and chasing Emma Stone through the forest — what more could you want?” he laughs. The film earned widespread critical acclaim, receiving seven BAFTAs and a record 10 British Independent Film awards. 

Having further honed his craft in subsequent films Mary Queen of Scots and gay-conversion therapy drama Boy Erased, Alwyn is about to enter into unknown territory. This Christmas, he’ll play Bob Cratchit in his first-ever TV drama, BBC One’s A Christmas Carol; a “darker, twisted, less glossy” version of the Charles Dickens classic. He’s “feeling good about it,” but I’m curious as to how he’s approached this change of scenery. Was he not nervous? “Oh, very. I tried to watch other people. It’s the second time I’ve worked with Guy Pearce [who plays Scrooge] and I asked him a lot of stuff, which probably annoyed him. I watched the way he works and the questions he asked on set when he was approaching a scene.”

Two people who will definitely be watching Alwyn’s TV debut are his mother, a psychotherapist, and his father, a documentary-maker. “They’d better be watching!” he laughs. Born in London’s Tufnell Park, Alwyn recalls being given stacks of videos every birthday and “watching them to death, until the tapes burned up.” One of his favourites was The Mask of Zorro. In fact, he was so obsessed with it that he and his best friend took up fencing lessons at a local community centre in Crouch End, where, by chance, he was spotted by a local casting agent for the hit British romcom Love Actually. She asked him to audition for the role of Sam; he breaks into a wide smile when I ask what he remembers of it. “I didn’t know much about what the film was; I was most excited about the fact I got the day off school! But I remember being in a room with Richard Curtis and Hugh Grant reading scenes, many of which didn’t make it into the film. And I left the audition thinking, ‘I really recognize that guy from somewhere’.”

Alwyn didn’t get the part. Instead, he forgot about acting for a while, with the exception of summer holidays, where his parents would send him and his older brother off to “some drama camp as a way of preoccupying us.” He explains that when he later realized he wanted to act on a serious level, he kept it a secret. Was it because he was worried how his parents would react to a somewhat precarious career choice? “Well, it meant putting myself out there in a performative way, and that wasn’t necessarily something I did or was used to doing. It felt like it should be quite a ‘look at me’ job, and that wasn’t really how I felt growing up. I wasn’t a painfully introverted kid, but I wasn’t a particularly extroverted one, either. So maybe I was self-conscious about the idea of saying to people, ‘Look, I can do this’.”

He credits drama school with giving him “permission” to go for it. “Plus my parents were great about it. They’re both freelance themselves, so while they recognize the perils, they also couldn’t say to me, ‘We can follow what we want, but you can’t’. There wasn’t a boundary, which helped a lot.”

I wonder if it’s been difficult acclimatizing to the level of fame that’s come as result of his roles. “There have definitely been changes that have taken some getting used to, whether it’s sitting down and doing an interview or someone recognizing you,” he says. “There are things that have changed in my life, but I still very much feel like the same person. It probably helps that I’ve been hanging out with the same friends literally every day since I was 12 years old. Maybe it’s when those things change that people change, I don’t know.”

It’s fair to say that the level of interest in Alwyn has, in part, been heightened by the fact that, in his spare time he plays the role of Mr. Taylor Swift. The pair reportedly met in late 2016 and became in item shortly afterwards. I’ve been warned ahead of our meeting that Alwyn “doesn’t talk about that”, and he’s keen to justify his stance in person. “I feel like my private life is private and everyone is entitled to that.” he says. “I’ve read stories recently about people like Ben Stokes and Gareth Thomas, which are a gross invasion of their privacy and of their lives. It’s disgusting. That’s not journalism, that’s just invasive.”

It must be tough, I suggest, being in a relationship that is surrounded by so much scrutiny. “I just don’t read the headlines,” he says. “I really don’t, because I can guarantee 99% of them are made up. So I ignore it.” Recent rumours suggest the pair are engaged, and are owed in part to one of Swift’s latest songs, Lover (’My hearts been borrowed and yours has been blue. All’s well that ends well to end up with you’), as well as a piece of string tied around Swift’s finger in a Vogue cover shoot. According to die-hard fans, this means something. But to Alwyn, it’s clear it means nothing at all. Is he never tempted to respond to the mistruths, to shut them down? “No, because it’s just pointless,” he sighs. “It won’t change anything. I just don’t pay any attention. I have my life and it’s kind of separate to all that stuff.”

I’m curious as to how much time he gets to simply enjoy the success he’s experiencing. “There’s lots of time not working, I wish there was less in a way!” he laughs. “I go to the pub, play football, go to gigs, watch TV (he’s just finished season three of True Detective), pretty normal things. There’s no ‘secret life’. But ultimately, I worry about finding the next job; that’s the truth. In the midst of everything, there’s always that feeling of ‘I’m never going to work again’. It’s a cliche, but you can’t just sit there waiting for the phone to ring. You have to try and take control. You’re at the mercy of the things you seek out — the directors and the connections — so I try to be on top of that as I can and read what I’m sent and be discerning. I try to pick wisely and follow up on people and leads that I’m interested in.”

Is there an end point he wants to get to, where he’ll feel like he’s made it? “Things have certainly shifted in my twenties,” he says. “Success to me now is doing things that make me happy and that make me feel fulfilled, doing what I want to do and being on the right track. Not in terms of being on a results-based track, but just doing something I love.” He pauses and smiles. “That sounds a bit sentimental, doesn’t it?” 

[thorne93]

Unexpected Guest (Part 3)

Prompt: Imagine working a party and seeing a mysteriously handsome man who captures your entire attention. There’s one catch: you’re engaged to a different man.

Warnings: angst, fighting, negative relationships, flirting, language, smoking (cigs? Is that even a warning? idk)...

Word Count: 4366

Notes: Inspired by Gorgeous - Taylor Swift...Beta’d by my amazing @like-a-bag-of-potatoes. I’m so blessed to call you a friend, love. OFC/OC Jeremy

Forever Tags: @capsmuscles @cocosierra94  @essie1876

@magpiegirl80 @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

@iamwarrenspeace  @marvel-imagines-yes-please @superwholocked527

@myparadise1982sand @missinstantgratification @thejemersoninferno

@rda1989

@marvelloushamilton

@munlis

@thefridgeismybestie

@bubblyanarocks3

@random-fluffy-pink-unicorn

@hardcollectionworldtrash

@igiveupicantthinkofausername

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​@kaeling

UG Tag: @bill-skarsgard-is-daddy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days after the premiere, you were going back to work, looking over inventory, going over accounting, checking for any quotes or inquiries. The staff didn’t have to work yesterday since they went so late last night and there were no events yesterday. But the kitchen would be full today as they prepared for a wedding later in the day.

You grabbed your uniform, slipped it on, pulled your hair back into a pony tail, and went out to the living room, which looked like a tornado hit it. In two days, it’d gone from half-assed decent looking to resembling a natural disaster had hit. The kitchen was stacked with dirty dishes and dirty counters, the living room had empty chip bags and glasses everywhere.

“Jeremy!” you exclaimed when you finally eyed your fiance on the couch, watching TV.

“Yeah?” he called back, not looking at you.

“What the hell happened to the house? Everything looks like shit,” you noted, walking around.

“I don’t know, babe. I was jamming with the guys yesterday. Must’ve forgotten to pick up.”

You suppressed an angry sigh. “So, you didn’t work all day yesterday, you played around with your bandmates, and failed to clean up this pigsty?”

“Hey, lay off, I don’t get on your ass when you’re out late all the time,” he remarked.

“I’m working, Jeremy! I’m late because I’m at events! But when I have off time, I’m cleaning. I would expect the same from you!”

“I wanted some time to relax. No one’s coming over,” he rebutted, irritated. You stormed over to stand in front of him.

“It’s not about whether or not we’re expecting guests. It’s about how I had this house looking pretty good, even though I’m up to my eyes in work, and then you and your friends trash it and don’t give a fuck.”

“I’ll clean it later,” he responded, still not looking at you as he waved his hand dismissively.

“No, you won’t,” you said. “You always say that, but you never do. Do you work today?”

“No.”

You took a deep breath before you lost your temper completely. “Okay, then can you clean up? Please? I just want the kitchen, living room, and hall bathroom done. Is that so much to ask?”

“God damn, Y/N, get off my back. The other guy’s don’t deal with this shit from their girlfriends,” he said, looking over to you and getting up.

“Because they work, they make most of the money, and they pay the mortgage,” you stated, not entirely happy with what you just said, but this was ridiculous. Jeremy worked forty hours a week if he was lucky, at a relatively easy job, with two days off every week and he couldn’t do simple household chores. Meanwhile, you were the breadwinner, worked sixty, sometimes seventy hours a week, and sometimes no days off, yet you still managed to clean up the house and keep it looking nice. So when you were basically the only one doing anything, it was highly irritating to have him just sitting the fuck around all the time.

“Oh, so there it is! It’s because I don’t make enough money!” he said, his voice raising as he finished getting a beer from the fridge.

“It’s not that you don’t make enough, Jeremy, it’s that you don’t contribute to our mortgage at all. I don’t understand that. If we’re going to be married, whenever that is, you need to help me with bills and payments.”

“Why should I? I didn’t pick this place out. Besides, I pay for water and electricity,” he stated as if that made up for it, before falling back onto the couch.

“So because you didn’t pick this house that we’re sharing, you’re refusing to help pay for it? That’s not what a partnership is…” you reminded, your voice getting softer.

“I thought me paying utilities and you paying the mortgage was a good way to split the difference,” he said, shrugging, indifferent as his eyes were on the screen.

“No...Jeremy, that’s not…” You sighed, letting the argument fall off. “You know what? Fuck it. Forget it. Please clean something today. I have to get to work. The place that keeps a roof over your head and your friends when you want to ‘jam’.”

You grabbed your purse and went out the door, slamming it on the way. You were fuming at this point. How could he think that paying only that little helped the financial situation? How could he sit there and not clean or grocery shop or do anything and just think that’s okay? Why did you let it go on for this long too?

Three years, you’d been engaged to him, dating two years before that. With no end in sight for the engagement. No date had ever been set. Every time you brought it up, he shot it down and said to not rush things.

For the longest time, he was dedicated to his music and you wanted to support him, like he supported you for going through culinary school. Their second album did very well last year, but since then, they haven’t recorded one note. They all just hang out. Occasionally they have an idea or tune here or there, but it never transforms into a full song. Now, he worked a go-nowhere job as a cleanup guy at a company. There was no room for progress or growth or promotion opportunities. He refused to look for another job or find anything better. When you had stressed to him that his job had no prospects, he argued that it did.

For years now, he seemed to refuse to better himself in any regard, and lately, it was starting to wear on you more and more. You were giving him less of the benefit of the doubt, less of the devoted, supportive fiance and you became the woman that was trying to kick his ass into gear. If he was going to be your husband, he needed to step up and act like an adult and take responsibility to push himself to be the best he could be.

You arrived at the office and a few minutes in, your meat guy came by to deliver the meat to be butchered. You attended to that order, having Ryan help you stock the other meat until you could get to it and telling Eva to get the marinade ready for when you were done cutting the meat. Once you were done butchering all the meat, you checked where everyone was at for prepping for the wedding later. Everyone except Oscar was on time. You stressed he needed to pick up the pace then you went into your office to begin the paperwork side of the business.

After ten minutes, Ida came into your office.

“Mornin’,” she greeted.

“Hey,” you said as your eyes were glued to the screen, trying to read through a request from a new customer. “What’s up?”

“Not much. Got the finger foods done for the wedding, they’re labeled and stocked. What’s next?”

“Start on the soups. The list is on the action board,” you informed, your eyes still not meeting hers. When you didn’t hear her leave, your eyes snapped up to her. “What’s wrong?” you wondered. Was she not feeling well and needed to go home? Is something wrong in the kitchen? Ida typically never hung around unless your attention was needed. She worked fast so if she was lingering, there was an issue.

“Nothing. You just seem...off today, everything okay?” she inquired, her big, bright eyes concerned as they remained planted on your face.

You were going to lie and say you were just busy and tired, but you felt like you needed to tell her the truth. Probably because she was your best friend and deserved the truth.

“No, Jeremy and I had a fight,” you confessed, sighing as you looked up at her.

“What about?”

“Him being lazy.”

“What’s new?” she remarked, half-under her breath and you gave her a warning look. “I’m sorry,” she gently offered. “But seriously, he’s never exactly been the go-getter. Why are you just now getting upset?”

“That’s the other thing I don’t know. I guess I gave him the benefit of the doubt for so long, but it’s always bothered me. I used to just think ‘That’s okay, I’ll take care of it.’ But as time goes on...Ida, we’re supposed to be married at some point. He’ll be my husband, help me raise kids...But he can’t even do laundry or pick up his own socks? He can’t help with bills except paying two of the utilities? What does that say? Not to mention, he doesn’t ever look at me anymore and we aren’t even married. I guess as I get more and more work with the business and he does less and less, it’s really starting to put a strain on us,” you confided, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair. “I don’t know what to do about it.”

She nodded slowly, pressing her lips into a thin line as she thought.

“Well what’s the biggest issue?” she inquired as she leaned against your desk, her own arms crossing across her white smock.

You let out a breath. “I guess...the cleaning. If he cleaned more, it would be less for me to do at home. I don’t mind the bills so much and the sex thing is just a phase probably because I’m busy and tired and if he wanted to do anything I’d probably say no anyway because I have no energy.”

“Okay, why do you think he doesn’t get it done?”

You shrugged. “He says he forgets, but I don’t get how when he’s literally sitting on top of the mess.”

“Hmm. I know it’ll sound weird but maybe he needs a to-do list, or a chores list.”

“A chores list? Ida, come on, he’s a grown fucking man.”

“Hear me out,” she started, “maybe he does forget or maybe the entire house being a wreck is overwhelming. Maybe just text him like three or four things to do. You want the kitchen spotless? Text him and tell him to do the dishes, clean the counters, and sweep the floors. You want dishes done and the bathroom sparkling? Text him that.”

“I don’t know. If he needs all that, that’s a little alarming,” you said.

She shrugged. “Not necessarily. I mean, he does work too, not as much as you but granted. He doesn’t need to spend all of his free time cleaning. So, this way he can do a few things in his off time, he’ll get done what you want, he has no excuse to say he forgot since it’s on a text, and then you can do a little bit when you get home. So, now it’s divided and fair.”

You nodded. “I’ll give it a whirl.”

“Great. Now let’s go make some soup.”

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

While you worked on the meals and prep and unloading deliveries, Ida continued to try to talk to you, but this time it wasn’t about Jeremy.

“So have you talked to Bill?” Ida wondered idly, a curious tone snaking into her voice.

“No,” you responded, a little short.

“Oh, did you not get his number?”

“No, I did, but I’m not reaching out to him,” you informed, a bit curt.

“Why not? You two seemed to hit it off. You disappeared all night to be with him,” she stated, confused as to why you wouldn’t reach out.

“That’s precisely why I don’t want to. Talking to him while I’m pissed off at Jeremy is just inviting trouble,” you remarked as you worked.

“Or, he’ll be a nice shoulder to cry on,” she encouraged.

“Why are you supporting this? You’re the one who told me to stay away from him and reminded me I’m engaged.”

She shrugged as she cut vegetables. “I was just being overly protective. Maybe this guy just wants to be friends. Nothing wrong with having another friend to talk to about your fiance. Maybe he can even help, offer a guy’s perspective,” she suggested.

“Maybe,” you mused, not entirely sold on the idea.

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

The main crew was out at a wedding, leaving two cooks behind to help clean up the kitchen, with you assisting. By the time you all were done, it was around 7:45 pm, and you were exhausted. Everyone had vacated the kitchen and you were locking up, when a voice sounded behind you.

“Hey!” the smooth voice called, startling the wits out of you.

You jumped and dropped your keys, but your instincts forced you to look at who had made you jump in the first place, before trying to recover them. Your eyes landed on the unmistakable face and you saw Bill, dressed in a black sweater and blue jeans, again, looking delectable.

“Bill? What are you doing here? You scared the shit out of me!” you yelled, glaring at him before picking up the keys on the ground.

He laughed softly as he approached. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to come by and see how your day went.” He flashed you a smile that made your pulse race.

“You came all the way to my kitchen to ask that?” you wondered, curious and a little uncomfortable about that. While Bill was handsome and you liked him, you still didn’t know him very well and he could be a psycho killer.

He shook his head and looked down, kicking pebbles on the sidewalk as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking like a nervous kid, about to ask something. Strange, it was odd to think someone as good looking and charming as him could be nervous about anything. A small laugh escaped his mouth before he admitted, “Uh, no, not quite. I was hoping you’d text me and I could ask this but...You never texted so…” He shrugged, letting you fill in the blanks. “I wanted to know if you wanted to go out to dinner.” He lifted his face to give you a direct look, asserting his question.

You shook your head and put your things in your purse. “Uh, I’m not sure, Bill. We just met...” Of course you wanted to..God, did you want to. You wanted to get to know him, like he had tried to get to know you that night at the premiere. The worst part was you knew you shouldn’t want any of that, yet...you still did.

He nodded slowly. “Well, having dinner we could get to know each other better?” he inquired, that innocent look popping onto his face again, making him irresistible.

“I can’t,” you said, shaking your head, uncertain about all of this. Knowing you should just tell him goodnight and get in your car.

“You can’t eat?” he questioned, knowing full well what you meant.

“I’m engaged,” you stressed, your eyes hard on his.

“Your fiance won’t let you eat?” he asked, pretending not to know what you were getting at, and keeping a very serious and straight face while he did it.

“No,” you retorted, your voice firm. “But I’m not sure it’s a good idea…”

“A good idea to go get food?”

Man, he was good at this. Bastard…

You huffed out air.

“When was the last time you ate a meal you didn’t prepare?” Bill suddenly asked you. You were about to answer when he cut you off. “Delivery pizza doesn’t fucking count.”

Nodding your head side to side, you acquiesced, “Fine. It’s been awhile since I’ve been out to eat. Happy?” Truth be told, you think the last time you had been taken to a restaurant was when you got engaged and Jeremy took you out one night.

“On the contrary, no. Someone like you should be taken out often. What do you say?”

“I say you’re rather obvious,” you retorted, a small amount of venom in your voice as you went to walk past him. Even if he was rather hard to say no to, part of you didn’t like him coming on so strong to you when you repeatedly told him you were engaged. Maybe he could sense that you wanted more than what he was offering though, deep down.

He turned to follow right beside you.

“I’m sorry. Look, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I just want to take you out, get to know you, be your friend. Okay? I don’t want anything more if you don’t.”

You slowed and turned to face him.

“Just dinner?”

“Just dinner and two people who just met getting to know each other. Please? Come on, won’t it be nice to eat something you didn’t slave over?”

A sideways smile crept onto your face. “Well..Yeah..”

“Great! Where do you want to go?”

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

You insisted you drive, and you picked the italian restaurant about six blocks over. You’d heard great things but clearly had never been. As soon as you got there, you texted Ida to tell her you were with Bill and where you were, just as a safety measure. You really didn’t think Bill meant any harm, but you could never be too careful these days. Then you shot a text to Jeremy telling him you’d be out for dinner with a friend. He said he’d go out with the guys for drinks then. You rolled your eyes, knowing that meant he probably wouldn’t clean or didn’t clean.

After you got seated and ordered food and drinks, he jumped right into it.

“So how was work?” he wondered, delight dancing in his eyes as they glued themselves to you.

“Uh, hectic. We had a lot to catch up on, then we had a wedding today. Three more weddings got booked, a couple of private house parties, another premiere in two months…” You stopped there, figuring he got the idea. “Just a normal day in the life of a caterer,” you mused, a slight smile on your face.

“Sounds exciting,” he commented.

“It can be,” you agreed lightly. “Some days it’s a mad house, some days it’s all prep work, most days it’s a full mixture. It’s just constant work of stocking, inventory, prepping, cooking, cleaning. Then it’s on repeat.”

“And do you still love it as much as when you first started?” he inquired.

“Um, I think I love it more,” you admitted. “When I first started, you know, it was a lot of rejection, a lot of critiquing, a lot of hearing how I wasn’t good enough. But countless hours in the kitchen and subjecting Jeremy to taste test after taste test, we finally got it. I recruited my best friend and basically started a business out of my home, just the two of us. Then we needed a third person because we were getting booked so much. Eventually, I took out a loan, bought a kitchen, hired some more staff and with the extra hands and more room to properly work, we could fulfill orders better.”

“That sounds like you’re living the dream,” he commented, a grin pulling at his pouting lips that made a fire come alive inside you.

“I really am. I’m really fortunate. I’ve gotten to meet a lot of great people through this and go to so many events I never thought I’d even dream of going to.”

“So the fiance, does he support your work?” he asked, his green eyes intense on yours, forcing you to look away.

“Uh, I suppose he is. I mean, he was at first. And he likes that it pays the bills, but he doesn’t care much to hear me moan and groan about the complaints of a business owner.”

“Shouldn’t he be there for you when you’re having a tough time? Isn’t that what partnerships are for?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said a little hesitantly. You never really liked airing your dirty laundry to people, except maybe Ida because she was your best friend and you’d known her for close to ten years, but to strangers or anyone else, you never felt it was their business if you and Jeremy were on the rocks. “But he’s busy with his stuff too,” you defended.

Bill slightly nodded as the waiter came by with bread and the drinks, making you want to change the topic. As much as you loved talking about your work, your entire life was work and you wanted to get to know him. Besides, you really didn’t want to talk about Jeremy any more today.

“So, are you from LA? Did you grow up here?” you asked before sipping your ice water.

He looked down for a brief moment. “Uh, no. I grew up in Sweden,” he answered, seeming a little embarrassed or perhaps shy.

You nearly choked on your water. You had no idea he wasn’t a native American, his accent didn’t really give it away. Not to mention you had a thing for just about any European guy. A red hot blush filled your cheeks as you tried to regain your composure and not let your hormones take complete control of the situation.

“That must be...different,” you tried. You had very little knowledge of Sweden. If it was cold, hot, dry, humid.

“From LA? Yeah, just a little,” he commented, causing a chuckle to escape, making your insides warm at the sound.

“What’s your hometown, if you don’t mind me asking?”

After he finished his sip of water, he answered you, “Vällingby.” When his accent came into play, you thought your underwear would slide right off you. Maybe talking about his home town wouldn’t be a prudent idea. But you did want to know about him.

“Do you miss it?”

“Every now and again, but most of my family is over here now so, not much,” he informed. “It is this suburban town right outside of Stockholm so...LA is a lot more trafficy than it was there.” A laugh went between the two of you.

“Yeah I bet. So why did you move?”

“I--” he started before the waiter came back to tell you that the food would be out in just a moment and to refill your glasses.

When he was gone, the two of you smiled at each other, trying to pick up where you left off.

“So, you? You from LA?” he questioned, gesturing with his chin at you while his long fingers danced around his glass, mesmerizing you. Your mind went to places about those fingers of his that it shouldn’t have.

Snapping from your fantasy, your eyes peeled from his fingers to his face, the heat rising in your cheeks. “Uh, no. I’m from Sacramento.”

“Oh wow, long way away,” he noted.

“Just a little. Not quite as far as yours though,” you teased with a laugh.

After that, the conversation flowed smoothly. Talking books and your favorite things to do in LA. You told him of your dream to travel the world and he had made a passive comment about wishing he could take you all over the world. At one point he noted that you looked young to have amassed what you have. You explained you graduated high school a year early, then the same with college, and culinary school went by in a flash. That’s why you were only twenty five and had a lot under your belt already. He seemed highly impressed with that which made you become even more attracted to him, until you quashed those feelings deep down.

When dinner was done, you went outside to share a smoke break before getting into the car. Again, your eyes and mind were fixated on his hands, his mouth, and that tobacco between his lips, with salacious thoughts entering your head. You drove back to your restaurant to drop him off at his car. Once you parked, you turned to him, the car still running.

“Thank you for dinner,” you said sweetly.

“My pleasure,” he assured. “I was happy to finally have some one on one time with you.”

“Me too,” you agreed with a wide grin. The two of you stared at each other for a moment, making the air in the car thick and hard to breathe. You broke the spell, shaking your head, a light laugh escaping your lips. “Bill...I...I want you to know that this between us, it can’t go any further. I’m engaged and even though he and I are...having a rough patch, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I’m not the sort of girl that goes around with random guys, flirting. Don’t get me wrong, you’re great and really handsome but...I just...I can’t go further than friendship and I don’t want you to think I’m stringing you along.”

He frowned a fraction of a second before looking at you. “Y/N, I don’t want to ever do anything that would make you uncomfortable. I really do want to be friends. You’re a cool chick. You’re pretty laid back except for when it comes to your job, and that’s sort of what I look for in friends. People who work hard at their job, but when it’s time to kick back, they do.”

You nodded at him. “Well, good. I didn’t want you to think I was leading you on.”

He shook his head. “No. Not at all. We flirted a bit, but you’re a really beautiful woman and you’re successful and independent. Can you blame me?” he asked with a wicked smile that shot through to your core.

You laughed through the blush and shook your head. “No, I guess not.”

“Thanks for the fun evening,” he quietly said when the two of you had calmed down a bit.

“Yeah, you too.”

“Goodnight,” he said as he leaned over to give you a hug that you happily returned. He jumped out of the car and then leaned back in the open window. “Now text me. I’m not a stranger anymore. You’re out of excuses.” He winked, patted the car with his hand, and walked away.

[thinkaboutnetwork-blog]

‘Hot Dudes Reading’ Books On Trains Is The Hottest Instagram Right Now

‘Hot Dudes Reading’ Books On Trains Is The Hottest Instagram Right Now

Capitalizing on the fact that hot dudes look way hotter when they read, the “Hot Dudes Reading” Instagram is prowling the streets and subways of New York in search of hunks unwittingly showing off their more intellectual and tender sides. I mean, you know when a fella’s got the looks, but are you sure he’s got the books?

The Instagram has more than 110,000 followers but only 13 posts as of this…

[wildflowerfiction77]

Burning Bridges 1

Burning Bridges

By Daniel Vera

8/23/2019 8:41pm

 A Story

A story of revelation.  A story of Heaven and Hell.  A story of love and fate.  A story of truth and fame.  A story of lies and pain.  A story of real and fake.  A story of lose and gain.  A story of friends and music.  A story of betrayal and death.  A story of the entire world and one mind.  A story of Hollywood and a story of forgotten people.  A story of rolled dice.  A story of lost love or never real.  A story of family decimated.  A story of a hidden treasure at the bottom of the sea.  A story of pyramids.  A story of ancient myth.  A story of future visions.  A story of spirits and man.  A story of warring armies.  A story of blank checks with no pen.  A story of a burning buildings in New York.  A story of gangs and government.  A story of black holes in Hollywood.  A story of hidden cameras and naked actors.  A story of Atlantis.  A story of superheroes.  A story of vampires and zombies.  A story of Bruce Lee and Nazi America.  A story of dead poets.  A story of songs sung by Mozart and Taylor Swift.  A story of the Military, CIA and MK Ultra.  A story of cartoons and rap music.  A story from a galaxy far far away.  A story of approaching comets.  A story of 33.  A story of black and white.  A story of Red Skins.  A story of nuclear war.  A story of blue water in the sky.  A story of James Bond and Gilbert Grape.  A story of TV commercials.  A story of fat kids.  A story of ninjas and samurai.  A story of rebellion and anarchy.  A story of dragons and phoenix.  A never ending story.  White tigers and black turtles.  Buffalo women and tobacco.  Hummingbirds and Butterflies.  Flowers and Hearts.  Stars and Sky.  Earth and Moon.  Dreams and walking...

 Dreams

I awoke in my pajamas.  It was a normal day like any other day.  I had 15 days to make $500 to pay the rent.  I had an ex girlfriend that butt dialed me while she was partying.  I listened for around ten minutes to see if I could hear if she was with a guy or having sex.  I couldn’t tell and so I hung up the phone.  I hated her because my heart felt pain every time I though of her with someone else and I knew she didn’t deserve it.  I guess it might have been the times that there was a genuine love that was being created, like the countless hours of laying in bed and staring at each others eyes while sharing kisses and caressing fingertips.  Or the unexpected gifts to encourage me to become a stronger man.  The late night fights where I sat at the locked bedroom door pleading to be let in, while she wept in bed because she got jealous of another woman she thought I was staring at when we went shopping.  Or the years of waking up next to her as the sunlight broke through the curtains and staring at her sleeping with a golden light shinning on her brown skin. red lips and black messy hair.  Or the times my arm fell asleep underneath her head as we cuddled for as long as possible until we had to readjust to find a diagonal leg and arm pattern, still crossing touch.  Then I thought about all the times she destroyed my heart and continued my day. 

I began walking on the air to meet with God.  We had scheduled a few meetings.  The great creator always knew I would be late.  I guess God knew me pretty well and adjusted time itself to add the twenty minutes for me to catch the 9:14 cloud.  On this day we talked about the meaning of struggle.  I had been having this reoccurring dream about being crushed by wave after wave in the ocean, and not being able to catch my breath.  God reassured me that the waves were meant to strengthen me and that I wouldn’t drown.  Although it was somewhat comforting to hear, I rebutted that the dream felt real and it was causing me stress.  I had felt that the waves were unneeded and they were keeping me from being able to recover from previous ailments that I was still healing from.  God just smiled and looked at me with grace.  When I left the office I was thinking of some toast and jam, since I had forgotten to eat before I left.  I did thank the Great Spirit that gives life and did say some prayers before scheduling a meeting a few months later and commenting on the beautiful flowers to the secretary.  It was a good meeting.

I then proceeded to fighting monsters and saving damsels.  I thought I was doing pretty good.  It was almost like living in a movie, where you get to be Conan.  But I didn’t realize it was all the parts where he was being held captive, being tricked or stuck in a room full of mirrors.  So I turned the channel to see if I could find out another version of the same story that was a little more modern.  That's when the television went static and I started howling with the old mystics from the Dark Crystal.  I had fallen asleep to that movie, and somehow I was joining in the call to gather the ones that were left to make the journey.  I thought it was just a happenstance, until the small town started to share a video that someone had recorded, until it became the new thing.  They made a dance, a soft drink, a Netflix show, chicken and pizza commercials, the next 5 years of billion dollars movies, including Star Wars, was about it.  They even started bombing countries and making new religions.  It was crazy.  There wasn’t a TV or movie screen that it wasn’t on every five minutes for years.  I even saw it on Facebook.

Then they the military started burning the forest to sell lemonade and electric cars that still used oil and nuclear power.  This is when I knew something was going on.  Then a bunch of ex presidents started appearing in Kanye West videos and Quentin Tarantino movies with “kiss me, I am Jewish” stickers on their foreheads.  This is when I knew things were getting out of control of even the CIA.  The girl scouts started selling machine guns to the homeless.  The TV news people were smoking joints, eating hot dogs and advertising “Shamoo”.  The comedians began making signs to love one another and became civil rights politicians and activists.  They didn’t say any good jokes though.  I’m not sure why, but the politicians began making everyone laugh.  It was a circus that was only topped by Silicon Valley taking Ubers to Outer Space.  They said they were going to mars, but they took too much LSD and ended up going too far, and circled back to China, not knowing it was a parallel universe and they were lost.  Meanwhile on earth, the Patriots won another Superbowl which made ten in a row.  Everyone dressed in Captain America costumes during a white rappers reunion, singing country songs with the Spice Girls paying tribute to all the musicians that were killed in the last seven years.  It was a really long half time show.  Its still going on.  Kapernick has Snoop Dogg braiding his hair while they start a venture capital business with Donald Trump and Kevin Spacey for a Martha Stuart line of hemp products at Walmart.  The hemp is really Monsanto bio engineered, but they figure they’re burning down the Amazon in Brazil, no one will notice.  

So I turned off the TV and ate some waffles.  My ex girlfriend left some blueberries in the freezer, so I used those with some peanut butter and jam and butter.  As I started eating the five stack, I saw something moving out my window.  I saw Miley Cyrus twerking on the front lawn.  I looked at the waffles and thought maybe there was something weird in the ingredients.  Then George Bush, the CIA guy, was dancing with her and I knew the waffles had some weird shit going on, so I threw them in the garbage.  Fucken ruined my breakfast.  Every five minutes I looked out the front window to see if they had left, and sure enough, they were still there, except they would change faces.  Next was the Rock and Scarlette Johanson, then Bill Gates and the Queen of England, then the White Stripes.  I thought it might have been the blueberries.  She said she ordered them from Ashton Kusheten, and that dush liked to play jokes on people, and started doing Bruce Willies wife, so I figured that was it.  They must have been laced with something.  I took a nap till they wore off.  

The next day I was able to make it to the car without anything super weird happening.  Someone did steal my Bruce Lee movies and my kids toys from the car.  I must have left the window open.  I knocked door to door around the neighborhood to ask if anyone had seen anything weird, other than Miley Cyris.  It dawned on me that I never spoke to any of my neighbors for the five years I had lived in the house.  The first house was a bunch of cats sitting around a living room.  They were doing yoga and smoking huka, so everything they said sounded like cats fighting underwater.  I didn’t get any answers.  The next house was three little pigs and a wolf.  They were watching the news and eating cereal.  They said they had just moved in and didn’t see anything.  It was peculiar that they had a giant poster of me in their kitchen.  I figured they must be fans.  They smelled like weed.  Every house had some fairytale vibe to it, or a Disney cartoon.  Squirrels, Vikings, Revenge of the Nerds, even a Steven King house.  The last one was a Dukes of Hazard reunion.  They were cooking burgers on the bar b que, and they were nice enough to have the girl in Daisy Dukes make me a quarter pounder with cheese.  We started seeing each other.  I called her when I got horny and she would come over.  I still didn’t find my stolen stuff.  I figured Karma would make the rounds.  

When I drove away, I started seeing smoke.  I wasn’t sure where it was coming from.  It didn’t seem to be originating from the car, so I started looking around.  Planes were flying past me and leaving these trails of smoke, but that wasn’t it.  I looked in my rear view mirror and saw burning bridges across the whole country.  That's when I knew who stole my Bruce Lee movies.  

  Meat and Cattle

 In a long dark cavern, I saw a few faces staring in front of sunlight, casting shadows like dancing puppets.  They had orders to submerge me into submission, by who, I wasn’t sure.  During that time, there was a lot of turmoil happening in the world and in the small town in which I was living.  It seemed that the local white power groups were stock pilling machine guns and ammunition.  They would have weekly fight club gatherings in the mountains and practice military drills to kill “niggers, Jews and spics”, and now the Chinese and Russians.  I guess they were Irish and Scottish, but probably a mixed breed of good ol’ boys.  

I’m not sure how “the gays” became part of the picture, but they arrived in droves.  They all gathered at Duff Tavern, a place in the Simpsons cartoon.  It was absolutely insane.  Along with the Trans community, there were hipsters, hopsters, fibsters, and mobsters.  Not to mention, some pretty hot women in the form of pixies and catholic nuns.  On the jukebox was Rage Against the Machine, because sometimes I would hack the airwaves, just to annoy the patrons.  The Clamsters would stand watch outside while the Bob Dylan look a likes would secretly grow weed and sell it to Colorado, Texas and New York.  They had a good set up going.  They would smuggle pounds of grass in their beards.  When asked why their beard was green by the police or FBI, all they would have to say is it was an Irish thing.  It seemed to work.  

But after a few years, the government went in and started replacing some of the farms with robots.  The robots would answer to the Matrix and all was well for a while.  I noticed this because I lived in the small town and would often have art shows and play music with the other monkeys.  Sometimes on the news they would televise a social order black ops operation.  In the war of the weeds, all the multi-armed gangs would hide in the mountains behind trees and rocks.  They would shoot at each other just to make sure no one was stealing their crops.  The cops didn’t mind, since they would get a part of the profit, and sometimes the whole thing, depending on orders from the FBI, and ultimately the CIA and Homeland Security.  

They would cut up a cow and leave it hanging upside down to attract the wolves.  They caught a lot of wolves that way and turned them into guard dogs.  The cats had to be more careful since they were house cats, and not the Lions they wanted to be.  Some of them thought they were Tigers, but that was just something on TV.  It was a long summer.  Everyone was waiting for 2012 and aliens.  They would give palm readings and read the cards on your forehead to make sure you were a monkey.  God forbid you might be Godzilla.  That would mean you were Japanese and those nips tried to bomb Pearl Harbor in a movie made by Steven Spielberg in the 80’s.  

The new threat in Los Angels was the threat of the Mexicans and particularly, the Zapatistas.  So the U. S. planted a tariff on marijuana distribution.  Although they needed the plant to help with cancer and injured vets brains, they had to make sure they could use that extra money for more robots.  They started pumping all that money into Silicon Valley and I Phones.  They needed to make sure Facebook would convince people that everyday is business as usual.  No one can have a new thought, it would counter balance the already shaky control system that sat upon fake money.  So to go with the fake money, they created fake news, fake wars, fake presidents, fake jobs, fake laws, fake food, fake causes, fake movies, fake soap operas, fake drugs, fake toilets, fake videos, fake people on the internet, fake names to go with those people, fake gang wars, fake drug busts, fake homeless people, fake housing crisis, fake TMZ news, fake Kanye, fake cake, fake husbands and wives, fake kids, fake Wall Street, and fake music.  Along with those fakory items, they made fake laws and juried trials.  I saw a documentary on Netflix.  It could have been fake.  

  The Cafe

 I would go to the cafe daily.  It was like a meditation.  Sometimes I would play music there, sometimes I would draw.  I always noticed the same faces.  Once in a while, a gorgeous red head or brunette would come sit at my table and flirt with me over a mocha.  At this time I was through with blonds, kinda like Arnolds’ “Total Recall” movie.  It was a good five years.  I never had so many Red Sparrows fly to my window at once.  I was a greedy kid at the ice cream shop, so I tried all the flavors.  This town was a small concentrated town, so I didn’t know they were connected to all the gangs in the world.  I didn’t know that they have been hunting savages for generations, and they had marked me as soon as I grew some pubic hairs.  They already had submitted my parents and were working on the rest of the Wu Tang Clan.  So when I found out, I tried to warn everyone, but it was too late, they had already turned or were captured.  The Cladavors had used Aliens to possess each other and play role playing games to kill the time.  

They did pay well, from all that weed and coke money.  They gave my ex boat rides and free soda.  They even gave all of the Clan free weed fields and free cars and houses.  But really, they had to do a lot of favors in return, like video tape me having sex with gorgeous women and then they would make fake porn and put it on the fake dark web.  The pink clampers liked to watch those between football games and CSI.  They made a lot of money from those as well.  Meanwhile, I was figuring out what kind of mocha I wanted.  I wrote a lot of letters during that time and finished a lot of paintings.  I learned how to sing, and practiced on my mating skills.  Every time I would walk outside, I saw five clams and three turtle doves.  My stomach hurt a few times, but the Doctor reassured me that I was fine and had nothing to worry about.  So I kept eating ice cream, since it was free.  I got good at it, I could have won a contest or the Olympics.

But then my arch rival appeared in the form of my ex.  She got even better looking and I got fat from all the ice cream.  I was still practiced up, but she had some Kriptonite on me.  I didn’t realize she had been zombified as well.  I wasn’t sure if it was the same quirks or new ninja moves she was using on me.  One thing that was sure, was that she always won.  It frustrated me to the point of no return.  She kept coming back to me for more ice cream, but I refused to share.  I threw it in the freezer along with my heart.  When she stopped calling, I pulled my heart out, but it stayed cold for too long, and I had thought it died.  I put it in a vase and watered it every now and again.  Mostly just wrote poems about it.  

Eventually I stopped going to the cafe, since that was the place that I had met her.  I started making instant coffee, then started brewing my own from a used coffee machine that had a timer and automatic alarm clock built in.  Every time I would drink a special brew, I would remember the mocha’s we shared.  I would see pictures of her on Facebook once in awhile drinking mocha's with Asheton Klamster.  That really pissed me off.  Then she got the role as Wonder Woman.  It was like, “what the fuck?”  Fuckn Taylor Swift and Kanye, Miley and Mickey, Goons and Goblins, Jews and Gentiles, Obama and Trump, Star Wars and Dumpsters, Guns and Weed.  All I needed now was my family to turn on me and the Government to MK Ultra me.  I saw Bluebirds in the midst of Project Damn Daniel.  It was astounding.  It was almost like they had watched the Dark Crystal too.  

They got me on the run, and then I saw Kapernick with an Afro.  I had thought he was Middle Eastern.  Then all of a sudden, blond people started showing up.  They were dancing naked everywhere I went.  I would go to the grocery store, and there they were.  I would go to the bank, and there they were.  I would go to the book store, and there they were.  At first I thought they were some kind of religious group, then I concluded that they were a rock band in a video game.  I had saw it advertised on a commercial a few years prior.  It was a game from MK Tupac.  I had read it in a New World Order book from the early 1900’s.  Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud co-wrote it.  That’s when my brother called me to ask me how I was doing.

The only answer I had was “How the fuck do you think I’m doing?”  Then my first ex called to tell me she’s having another baby and if I wanted to co-sign for a new car.  I was like, “Bitch, I haven’t seen you since the 1800’s, how the fuck does your ghetto ass want a co-signer after you stole my sperm in 97 and then stole my life in 99?”  Needless to say, I co-signed.  I thought it was for the kid, but I think she got her nails did.  

  The Science

 It was a virtual video game and everyone wanted to play.  It was one of those soldier games where everyone is a shooter.  I had thought I had seen my brother in a bunker with a gunshot wound to his side.  He was bleeding.  He was drinking with his Clamster buddies, and they had asked if I wanted to play some football that weekend.  Since we were in a video game, I figured sure, why not.  While drinking a Natty Ice and smoking a cigarette, he asked how to defeat all the white men.  I looked at him, and wondered why he was drinking and smoking while bleeding on the rented floor.  I figured he had marital problems, he was in a slump and the locals must have been fucking with him.  I contemplated the question, and from the years of slavery and genocide, I didn’t really see a scenario that they would recede control of the area, America or stop their plans for world domination.  So I told him I don’t know.  It was a confounding question since his wife and his kids and his friends were white.

So his buddies were usually missing some teeth from some Oroville days.  I had known them for some time, so when playing football, I didn’t think much of it.  It did piss me off that they didn’t throw me the ball and kept me on defense.  I still disrupted most of the plays.  They just liked to throw interceptions.  They asked me if I wanted to be a bad guy in one of their movie projects that they were conjuring up.  Since I knew these guys had almost zero talent for movie making, I kindly agreed, if they did all the work.  They proposed some Star Trek and I proposed some Twilight Zone.  They proposed a Batman spin where the bad guys would be sitting at the table.  I figured I was Batman, so I’m not sure that would work out for me, unless I beat their face in at the end of the card game.  I guess my brother played the Joker.  

So I drove away, and then the game turned into Mad Max, Fury Road.  I guess Northern California wanted to keep the water, and Southern California didn’t like the country people and they wanted the water.  Everyone started throwing fire bombs at each other, it got crazy.  So the South paid off some ”official” people with the Damn money, and they shared the water with the weed growers and Mothers Milk.  All the gangs lived happily ever after, including the military and Hollywood, which we all know, are the most important gangs in California.  They eventually brought Donald Trump to rake and threw fake Rambo in military prison for trying to start a rebellion, which was actually a sting to begin with.  It was a complicated video game on story mode.  Most people just like to play on vs. Mode.  

I only rented the game, so I didn’t really play it, everyone I knew loved it and bought it.  I guess the marijuana dispensaries were selling it along with cookies.  I would rather spend my time watching Netflix and watch some Daredevil or Breaking Bad.  Those were some epic shows.  I used to just watch the Documentaries, but ever since I bought a subscription, I like the dramas.  It always begs the question, does art reflect real life, or does real life reflect art.  Sometimes I think to myself, when I notice the panic attack people have in the world around me, how could everyone not notice how much we believe other people to be better than us.  How much we fear other people to be better than us.  How groups of people feel threatened by others greatness, and that they don’t take the time to nurture their own greatness.  In a hysteria to feel loved and be seen in a crowded world, we try and find the flaws of the others around us to lift ourselves up.  Flowers fighting for sunlight.  Animals fighting for food and water.  Instead we are water and lightning.  We are the light.  

It makes me reminisce on the struggle of the waves crashing.  I find the breath I need in the moments between the struggle.  If I panic, I miss those moments while fighting against the ocean.  If I don’t panic, I am able to breath steadily and find the least resistance without drowning.  And if I live to tell the story, what else would a story need but you to tell it.  How many stories have saved your life?  How many stories gave you strength to carry on?  How many stories have let you share in the tragedies and triumphs of another?  Stories that made you laugh and cry, ones that you have learned from and ones that didn’t make sense till years later.  To play the video game in story mode or just in versus?  I personally like to write my own story.