#like I have mostly just been farming but it makes me laugh when I remember | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rebeliz7 · 9 months

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HER

Request: Natasha Romanoff mile-high club on the Quinjet?

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Agent!Reader

…

“You’ve never? Really?” Your question hangs in the air for a couple of seconds, before Natasha shakes her head in a negative way.

You observe her quietly, the stupidly attractive smirk on her lips distracting you as she tries her best to keep the upper hand in this particular exchange.

She knows how to work her better assets, you’d give her that.

“You want to?” You ask her playfully, and her smirk turns devilish. Almost too distracting for you to concentrate on anything beside her lips, or how incredibly attractive she is.

You’re on the jet, flying on your way to Clint’s farm for his wife’s birthday party and you’re already running a little late since you were left behind by your teammates. Natasha’s the only one who stayed to wait for you to finish your hair.

“Want to, what?” She retorts, her voice a deep throaty thing that sends inexplicable shivers down your back. She’s good, very good.

“Join the mile-high club.” You shrug and watch as she almost looks away from you, but she’s not really the type of woman that shies away from this type of talk now, is she?

She clicks her tongue and raises her eyebrows, her fingers picking at the leather of the armrest of her seat, a clear sign that this conversation is slightly out of her comfort zone.

But you know that she’s letting you see this. You are under no pretense here, this is the Black Widow you’re talking to and you haven’t forgotten that.

“You have, then?” She asks back and you shrug your shoulders delicately, it’s not that big of a deal for you.

Your life as a spy has taken you to a lot of places, you’ve met many people and you’ve slept with a fair share of your targets in a lot more interesting places than a plane.

“Who hasn’t?” You smile, teasing her, and she chuckles lightly. “You’re missing out, Romanoff.”

“On joining the mile-high club, or sleeping with you?” She asks, her eyes locking you in but you’re ready for this question and you lean in a little closer to answer it.

“Both.” You tell her, you voice only above a whisper and she takes a deep breath.

“Someone thinks very highly of themselves.” She teases you but there is real hesitance behind her words.

“No one’s ever complained.” You shrug again and she actually laughs at that, and the sound of her laughter makes you smile in return.

She doesn’t laugh very often, she’s quite a reserved individual almost all the time and you get it, you’d be too if you allowed yourself to remember all the things you’ve done and that’s been done to you in your line of work.

Natasha works differently from you in that aspect, she chose to accept and atone for her sins, while you are still just trying to keep going without the weight of your actions crashing you down, or drive you mad.

You are willing to do good and you don’t expect anything in return for it. That’s all. You’re not here because you want to clean your slate, that’s not how you operate. What’s done is done and you’ll have what you have when you have it. Nothing more and nothing less.

“Are you serious?” She suddenly asks and you shrug again.

“I’m messing with you.” You assure her and she raises a single eyebrow in a silent question. “Don’t get me wrong. All that flirting is one hundred percent real. I do like you and I wouldn’t exactly say no to help you join the mile-high club.”

“Ass.” She slaps your arm in jest and you laugh.

“You are very doable, Romanoff.” You laugh again and she slaps your arm again in jest. “I wouldn’t mind tapping that.”

You’re joking, well, mostly. You do like her and you have been flirting with her a lot, but that’s mostly because she flirts right back and her quick wit is something that you’ve come to sincerely enjoy.

You and her have a lot in common though. You were both taken as children by the wrong people, forced to become what you are and done more damage than good in this world.

You are not someone who wants a relationship because you were taught to never let your guard down, never trust, never look back. Neither one of you talk about your pasts, but you are almost certain that she’s not the relationship kind of woman either.

When she slips out of her seat and straddles you with the grace of a ballerina in yours, you’re not truly surprised. That’s exactly what you’d have done if someone was teasing you like this.

“You talk a lot.” She tells you, her hands on your cheek and collarbone.

“I thought you liked it.” You smile at her as you settle your hands on her thighs where her green dress has ridden dangerously up.

She doesn’t have a quick reply for that, at least not one that involves words.

Her lips are far softer than you imagined but she kisses exactly like you hoped she would, fully and without a trace of doubt.

You kiss her right back, your hands instantly moving to grab a handful of her ass and pull her impossibly closer to you.

“You’re gonna wrinkle my dress.” She gasps against your lips, but there’s that devilish smirk on her lips that tells you that she doesn’t really care.

“You can punish me for it if you’d like.” You tell her and when she kisses you next she makes sure to bite your lower lip in revenge.

It goes rather fast after that bite. Maybe you’ve been building up to this for the last year and a half since you joined the Avengers, and began to flirt relentlessly with her, or maybe it's the challenge that you presented her with that’s making it go like this.

Whatever the reason, you’re actually enjoying quite a bit.

“You’re gonna leave a mark.” You tell her when she sucks on your neck hard enough to hurt.

“It’s cute that you thought I wouldn’t.” She says and the sound of her voice makes you want to growl in return, but luckily you manage to tame that particular desire.

“Fuck, I want to hear you moan.” The words are out of your mouth before you can fully process them in your brain, and she chuckles close to your ear as you finally push her panties aside and thrust two of your fingers inside of her without a warning.

She moans, loudly.

But God! She’s so wet that your fingers slip inside her without an ounce of resistance and she’s so warm that the thought of doing this again suddenly showers your mind with pictures of taking her in a bed--in a kitchen counter--in a pool--in the damn meeting lounge.

“Yeah, just like that.” It’s your turn to smirk, but her arms are wrapped around you so tightly that you can’t see the expression on her face.

She does thrust her hips against your hand and you feel her trembling around your still fingers though.

She doesn’t beg, even though you can practically hear her pleas in the way her hips move involuntarily, and her breath keeps catching.

“All talk. I knew it.” She says against your ear, her voice throaty and breathless, and you’re pulsating between your legs just by hearing it.

“Look at me.” You ask her and she leans back slowly, her cunt tightening around your fingers as she moves until you can see her face and her smudged lipstick, and the pretty blush that’s covering her cheeks and chest.

God, she paints such a pretty fucking picture. “You’re gorgeous, Romanoff.”

“Yeah?” She asks, her chin trembles as she licks her lips, her hips thrusting softly against your fingers as she tries to fuck herself on them when you continue to deny her. “You really think I’m pretty?”

“You own a mirror, don’t you?” You tell her and she moans when you curl your fingers inside of her as a warning.

You want her, not the person that she is with her targets.

“Would you just fuck me already?” She practically growls in your face before kissing you hard. You want to tease her some more, point out who desperate she is to be fucked in this seat, but instead you just do exactly as she demands.

You grab a hold of her throat as you begin to fuck her with your fingers, hard and fast.

She takes a hold of your dress with her fists, her eyes locked on yours as you thrust in and out of her with possessive force.

It’s an uncomfortable position to be doing this in, but you manage to pull down the straps of her dress and free her breasts so you can suck on her nipples as she buries her hands on your hair.

You can feel when she’s close and she wraps her arms around you when her walls begin to tighten. You use both of your hands then, your mouth on her neck and just when she’s about to come you add another finger inside of her, and she not only moans but she screams your name when she orgasms.

You wrap your arm around her waist as she holds onto you with trembling hands.

“You messed up my hair.” You tell her, and she raises her head from your shoulder to study the damage.

“It’s fine.” She says and she actually whines when you pull your fingers free.

She hands you a paper towel to clean your hand with and you’re only a bit disappointed that that didn’t lead to some fantasy inducing licking, but you still smile up at her anyway.

“Now everyone will know what we’ve been up to.” You tell her and she cracks a smile that you haven’t seen before on her lips, one that makes you take a pause and just watch her.

She really is beautiful, and you wouldn’t exactly mind doing this again.

“Oh, they’ll be so jealous.” She jokes as you help her with the straps of her dress and she combs your hair back with her fingers in return. Your hair is a goner though, there’s no fixing it now.

“Welcome to the mile-high club, Miss Romanoff.” You say and she cups your face with her hands, as a look that you also haven’t seen before crosses her features.

Maybe she’s seeing you for the first time, it certainly feels like it.

“I’ll return the favor some other time. We’re about to land.” She says, and then stands up from your lap and you give her a light shrug.

“Fine with me.”

“Now try and not look at me while I walk away.” She says, but before she can do that you grab a hold of her arm and pull her down for a kiss.

She moans into your mouth and you think that you do too, but God! If there comes a day when you really do become an addict to anything you think that this might be it. Her.

You tell yourself that you won’t look at her walk away, but the second she’s walking your eyes are glued to her body, and you catch the light smirk she throws your way above her shoulder just before she enters the bathroom.

You smile to yourself.

...

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #black widow imagine

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deansapplepie · 3 months

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Inherited | Chapter 5

Summary: You go find Merle and end up drunk with him. Rick Grimes have to call Daryl to get both of you. With the alcohol come some confessions and

Warning: Mentions of Leah (Daryl’s not a cheater, just stupid), alcohol consumption, drunk people, mentions of drugs, mentions about sex, Daryl and his lack of knowledge about technology, very small hangover, lil bit of jealous Y/N. Minors DO NOT interact 18+

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count: 3,166

A/N: Sorry for taking too long, but the ones that follow up the things I share know how my life has been. Thanks for your patience, love you all.

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Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Why d’ya hate me?

Days passed and he didn’t say a word about the picture or Merle. You also didn’t find it in the trash, so you considered he kept it. Your conversations were simple and plainly about business, from time to time of course you’d throw a bitter comment at each other.

That day you didn’t see him around, he had gone hunting and didn’t even bother to tell you. Well, it’s not like he had to, but you lived together and it’s good to know where the people you live with are, for safety, what if the person is murdered or kidnapped and nobody knew where this person went?

You spent the whole morning doing some work for Aaron as you promised, by lunchtime he still didn’t have arrived back at the farm. ‘Fuck him’, you thought. You were also going to leave and you’d not tell him. You took your bag and the keys of the old truck, and left to do what you should’ve done days ago.

You took the old road going deeper and deeper into the woods. You were surprised you still remember the way, because when you started this journey you were afraid you’d get lost. Soon, you were parking your car in front of the Dixon’s cabin. You got off of the car and walked to the front door. ‘I hope Merle is here, and sober’, you thought. You knocked on the door, once, twice, 4 times and after 15 minutes you gave up. There was two options for Merle, 1 he was passed out after drinking and/or drugging himself too much, 2 he was out at town. So you decided to bet on the chance that he could be in town.

You drove your car on the streets, hoping to see him in one of the bars and you weren’t wrong. You found him just where you thought he’d be, at a bar. You parked the truck and went inside the bar to see your old friend.

“I knew soon or later ya’d come and look for me doll.” Merle said before you got close to him. “What took ya so long?”

“Your asshole brother, I guess. And of course, now I have a lot of job to do.” Once you got close to him, he engulfed you in a tight hug. A so welcome and familiar hug, damn Dixons knew how to give a good hug. You missed it. “How have you been? Your brother wouldn’t tell me a thing!”

“I’m busy during the week, working on some… business and hunting too.”

‘Oh Merle, you’re still involved in this kind of business?’, you thought.

“Don’t you get tired of seeking trouble?” You ask him, already sitting next to him.

“I’m not looking for trouble, I’ve been busy and there’s some years that I don’t get arrested. At least not for the things you’re thinking.” He defended himself.

“Still a hot head and getting involved in bar fight, ain’t you?” You know this was probably the reason.

“It’s making wonders to my friendship with my favorite officer Grimes.” You laughed, you knew him and Rick were far from friends, they mostly despised each other. Rick was probably tired of arresting him and having to call Daryl every single time.

“You’re really something Merle.” You missed his lame jokes too. You wish you had come to see him earlier.

“How’s baby bro?” Merle asked and suddenly the small cup of alcohol he had in front of him became very interesting. “He’s not talking to me. Since ya returned. Guess, I should blame ya.”

“Not my fault. I have no idea what’s going on in his head, I’ve been trying to make things easier between us, but… I guess it’s impossible. We can’t have a conversation without being dicks.” You said honestly, it really annoyed you all of this, and you had always found a good listener in Merle. “But… answering your question, he’s the same grumpy ass and I think he’s still pretty much affected by everything that happened to my dad. He always locks himself in his own shell, and it’s difficult to get past it. You know how he is.”

Merle nodded but didn’t say anything. “I think you’re right, it’s my fault he’s not talking to you. He mentioned I’m good at telling you things and talking to you. Because you opened your big mouth to scold him for the things I told you.”

“And I dun regret scolding him, he deserved.” He was a stubborn ass, he would never admit it.

You asked for some beer and appetizers and continued to talk with Merle. “He hates me Merle…”

“Pffft… don’t be dramatic no one could ever hate ya sweet pie!” Even drunk he managed to be nice to you, many times you got caught in your thoughts thinking why he couldn’t do the same for other people.

“He does...” You said, and then started bickering your beer.

You wanted to talk to Merle about the idea you had of him working in the farm with you, but of course you had conditions for it. He was already a little tipsy when you arrived, you preferred to call to him sober – if it was possible – so you took the afternoon to drink and talk to him.

The afternoon soon became evening and some hours later old John Lee wanted to close the bar and go home to rest and see his wife, but Merle and you were passed out in your table. The poor man had no option but to call Sheriff Rick Grimes to help.

From all the people in the world, you were the last one that Rick would think that would have to make him need to come to a bar to solve a problem. He took his phone and called Daryl, after what seemed like an eternity he answered it.

“Wha’ did he do this time?” It was late, for Rick Grimes to call at this hour, it had to be Merle causing problems.

“Not exactly him… he’s here, but he did nothing. Y/N and him are passed out at Lee’s. He needs to close the bar. Can you come and take them?” He drawled, his hand passing on his jaw, a little bit worried.

“Do I have a choice?” Daryl asked to no one in particular, he didn’t need an answer. “Gimme 15 minutes, and I’ll be there.”

Shortly after he got to the bar, he speeded so much that he didn’t even need 15 minutes. Your truck was parked in front of the bar, so he’d need to use it to take you back home. He wasn’t prepared to see you and Merle passed out. Your head resting on the older Dixon’s shoulder, while his head was hanging behind and he didn’t even seemed to be uncomfortable with it.

“ ‘m sorry…” Daryl apologized to the old man, it wasn’t the first time he had to apologize to him, it wasn’t the second time either.

“It’s ok kid. The young lady seemed like she needed to drink and a good conversation with a friend.” John Lee said and moved his head in your direction to indicate he was talking about you, even though it wasn’t needed.

“Hm..” he grunted he didn’t want to stop and think about what the man said, because if he did his line of thought would remember him of all the reasons you had for it. He took his wallet and asked the man what they owned him and paid it, like he always had to do when he needed to come for Merle.

“Why did she drink like this? It doesn’t sound like her drinking this much.” Rick asked Daryl in curiosity, of course he had already seen you drunk, being silly, happy and dumb, but never passed out drunk.

“Yer guess is as good as mine…” he answered and Rick gave him a look that said ‘you don’t think I’m going to believe it.’. He went to you and looked if you had a bag or anything, nothing. Just great, the keys were probably in your pocket.

“Y/N…” he called you, you just hummed in response. “Y/N, where’s the key?” Nothing. Freaking fucking shit. He didn’t want to be a creep and shove his hand in your pockets. “Ok… I’m gonna look in yer pockets and gonna take it, al’ight?” He said as if you were going to understand a thing in your state.

Once he found the keys he took it as fast as possible from your pocket and threw it at Rick so he could open the car for him. Daryl took you in his arms and stiffened when he felt you snuggling against his chest. Damn, there was a long, long, looong time he didn’t have you in his arms, and your smell it was still the same. If it wasn’t weird and against everything he had been saying and doing, he would allow himself to burry his face in your hair and smell it. He took you to the car and sat you in the middle of the sit, fastening the seat belt before he went back to Merle.

“Merle! Wake up!” He commanded and kicked his brother’s foot slightly. “Com’on sleeping beauty, I’m not carrying ya to the truck!”

“Do ya wanna some help?” Rick asked, by the looks he knew Merle wouldn’t cooperate.

“Think so…”

Rick helped Daryl taking Merle to the car and once everyone was settled, he left town with the two drunks and praying his baby, his bike, wasn’t stolen or harmed until he came to take it home again. The drive was long and silent, he had a lot of time to think about all sorts of things. When his thought came to you he tried to put them aside, but your head that had fell on his shoulder wasn’t helping it at all.

Once he arrived at the farm he took care of Merle first, despite the older Dixon not being able to keep his eyes open, at least he cooperated a little with his legs not letting all his weight fall on Daryl that was supporting him inside the house. He took Merle to his room in the basement and almost regretted it the moment he tripped on the stairs and the two almost rolled it. He put his brother in his bed and didn’t even bother to take of his shoes or anything and left to take you from the truck.

He had to carry you once again, this time you were a little bit more conscious because you wrapped you arm around his neck. You inhaled his scent and it brought a comfort to you while he carried you to your room, but it also made you remember that you shouldn’t, deep in your subconscious you fought a battle that not even yourself had any idea. He kicked the door of your room open, put you in bed and worked on taking off your boots. He checked you one last time and when he was leaving, he was surprised by your hand yanking his pulse and his name been called, taken by surprise he fell on his ass on the mattress a few inches distant from you, and he needed to be grateful for it because it spared him from the embarrassment and probably crushing and hurting you.

God damn, what could you want from him at this time and in your state? He looked at your face and you had your eyes half open. “Why? Why d’ya hate me?” You drawled, your southern accent showing up in your drunk state, since your brain was relaxed and you didn’t have to worry about masking it. You knew you didn’t need to mask it anymore, but the trauma you had with the other kids made your brain being in constant alert even when you didn’t need to.

He was taken aback by your question, it shouldn’t surprise him, you were 24/7 bickering at each other, but he didn’t have a strong feeling like hatred for anyone, except Shane, Dwight and Negan, but they didn’t count. Most people hated them too, maybe not Dwight but… “I dun hate you.” He answered. You had hurt him, but he had not gone easy on you and after that he said so much worse. Despite all the anger he felt inside himself and all the mean things he had told you, part of him didn’t know if he said it to torment you or to punish himself.

“So, why…?” You asked again and he was almost ready to say one more time he didn’t hate you, but you spoke first. “Why did ya sleep with ‘er?”

He was taken aback, what were you talking about? He hadn’t been sleeping with anyone. Were you drunk hallucinating? “You could have fucked any girl, we weren’t together… so, why her?”

“What are ya talking about? I dun understand. Yer drunk, go to sleep.” He said trying to free his arm from your hand, but you tightened your grip.

“Leah… why her? I was going to call ya, I wanted to apologize, but that photo… it killed me.” Fuck. He had just slept with Leah once. After she showed him a photo of you and Aaron at uni. She wanted him to be mad at you, nobody knew you had broken up, he hadn’t told it to anyone. Until that moment, when he faked indifference and announced you weren’t together anymore. He didn’t think about it. He was 19 and stupid, and he had sex with her one time. But which photo? “Ya knew she hated me. Why?”

“I was stupid, stubborn and dumb. That’s why.” He said, he could see your eyes shining, the indication of tears. He caressed the hand that held his arm until you relaxed and he could release it. “Which photo are ya talking about?” He asked, gosh he really hoped you were too drunk to remember it the next day.

“The one… the one she posted on facebo..” and you had fallen asleep, as easy and simple like this. Facebook? Damn, he never had one. He hated all that social media shit. Probably that’s the reason he never knew about. He put a blanket over you and swiped 2 lonely tears that came from your closed eyes.

He headed downstairs and entered the office, turning on the computer. He took his phone from his pocket and called back to the last number that had called him.

“What the fuck, Daryl? Do You know what time is it?” A sleepy Rick complained on the other side of the call.

“Ya call me late at night to pickup my drunken brother from time to time, ya own me.” The cowboy argued.

“ ‘kay, what do you need?” The sheriff asked impatiently.

“How the heck do I make a facebook and how can I see the photos someone posted?” He threw the random questions that got Rick even more confused.

“You own me an explanation after this, and I want the whole story. Wait a minute…” The sheriff said, then covering the speaker of the phone, his voice resonated through his house. “CARRRL!”

The following morning you woke up with a stinging pain in your head, the sunlight that came through the window almost blinding you. You sat on the bed and felt your stomach aching. How did you end up like that? You just remembered being at the bar with Merle, drinking and… nothing. Everything was a blur. Did you drive back home in your drunken state? Impossible. No.

You got up from bed and took care of yourself before heading downstairs. When you entered the kitchen you saw Merle at the table and Daryl in the kitchen. “ ‘morning…” you said weakly damn, you should never drink like this again. “Merle, what are you doing here?”

“I had to pick your two stupid asses at Lee’s. Merle, I’m always expecting this from him, but you…” he said pointing his finger at you, a dishrag on his shoulder and a spoon in his hand. “It was as very unexpected, even coming from you.”

You sat and looked at him, finding very funny the whole scene. “Ok, mom. I’m not doing it again.”

“Listen here, ya little shit…” he started to say, but stopped mid-sentence when he noticed that he was actually behaving like a mom.

He turned back to the stove and put 2 bowls of chicken noodles soup with veggies and eggs. He put the bowls in front of both of you. “What’s that, Darylina? This isn’t breakfast.” Merle complained.

“It’s a noodles soup. Carol said it’s good for hangover, eat.” He said and went back to take a bowl for him, that wasn’t his usual breakfast, but no way he would do any other thing.

You looked at him, squeezing your eyes as if you couldn’t see things clearly. Since when did he listen to anyone’s advice? And was he this close to Carol that she went giving him advices like this? Did they get drunk together? “And what does she know about it?” You threw the question before your could close your mouth and keep the words to yourself.

“She’s a mom, mom’s know this things.” He answered as if it was obvious and sat at the table to start eating.

“Her daughter is 15, Daryl. She doesn’t get drunk.” You said taking a spoonful of the soup.

“We got drunk the firs’ time with less age than her, so I ain’t understanding your point.” He answered. If humans snarled, you would have snarled at that moment. Damn him and his necessity of being always right. “Take yer soup, and stop talking.”

“As if you’re the boss of me…” you muttered, but he preferred to ignore it and eat. Were you jealous of Carol? No, he shouldn’t think about it. The day before had already a lot of happenings to make him think about.

Merle silently observed both of you having your little argument. If he wasn’t busy with the food, he’d have to comment that you still had the hots for each other, but instead he chose to eat while he had free entertainment. That was a good way to start his morning.

Wanna be added to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series)

Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325

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#daryl dixon x plus size reader #the walking dead #twd #daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl x y/n #daryl imagines #twd daryl dixon #inherited twd au #deansapplepie

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sissytobitch10seconds · 7 months

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Opium Lidded Daydreams

Fandom: Shadow and Bone (TV), Grishaverse: Six of Crows Summary: A lot of things have happened to him during his life, this has been one of the best. He thinks that he deserves it after all of the pain that he has had to endure. It's also where he hardens his heart to never care for others. Warnings: Trans characters, canon-typical violence and betrayal, and canon deaths Word Count: 4,628 Ship(s): Kaz Brekker & Poppy Cox

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A/N: I very recently fell in love with the idea of Kaz being trans since he has canonically did change his name and totally reinvent himself. I really loved Poppy and the implied backstory with them as well, so I decided that I was going to write something with it! I did take the backstory more from the book than I did the show for Kaz but then things kind of veer to the middle so that I can have Poppy in there since she doesn't show up in the book. I hope that makes sense and feel free to ask me clarifying questions if it doesn't! Stay sissy and bitchy everyone <3

Poppy Reitveld had many changes in her life.

The first had been long before she could remember. Her mother had been desperate for another child, her longing to care for and nurture not satisfied with their collection of animals and Poppy’s older brother. She had always been a sickly woman, so taking on a pregnancy had made her so sick that she was bedridden for a year when she conceived their first. Poppy had been informed that it was a massive sticking point for her parents, the first time that Jordie had ever seen them do anything more than tease each other. Her mother had gotten what she wanted, though, as she always had. A second child was conceived and she was just as sick the second time as she had been the first. She left Poppy with nothing more than the sunny memories of a delicate laugh and the reassuring kisses on the top of her head. She had never known what had really killed her mother, she was too young to be told at the time and there was no one to ask other than a weathered gravestone once she was. Just like that, Poppy was the daughter of only a windower and the sister of a half-orphan.

The second had been her father. She was still young when it happened, but old enough that she had far more cemented in her mind. The memories had stuck to the back of her teeth and her throat like the honey she was spoon fed when she had a cough, refusing to leave. She had been tucked away in the house and given the task of helping her brother cut the vegetables for their supper. She hadn’t been doing a very good job of it, but that was mostly because Jordie had wandered off to do whatever it was that boys at his age got up to. She had heard the shrieking and crying of someone in pain and had rushed out just in time for one of the farmhands to pick her up as though she weighed nothing. The thing that she remembered from her father’s death was the crushing weight of having to stay put, to wait until someone came to get her to tell her what had happened. Poppy remembered the blood stained ground where the seeds should have been and the burning, crackling smell of the plough as they destroyed it, thoroughly convinced it was bad luck. Just like that, Poppy an orphan and the sister of a foolish teenage boy.

The third one had led to the most pain, but only because of the slippery nature of it. She had been dressed up in the clothes that she always wore to mass, the ones that her father had assured her that her mother would have loved to see her in. Poppy hadn’t been so sure about it then, and she was definitely unsure of having to wear it again when she wasn’t being told why. She had blue ribbons woven into her hair to make her extra pretty before they were rushed through the streets of Ketterdam. Jordie had the money from selling their farm hidden away in his pocket. He had been siphoning it off for the room that they were renting and the food they needed to keep them alive. Poppy hadn’t wanted to leave the only home she had ever known, but she loved and trusted her brother, so she had gone along with it anyway. She had trusted Jordie, even after they came up the window of the house that should have been filled with people they trusted to find it completely empty. Just like that, Poppy was a penniless orphan and the sister of the most foolish boy on the streets.

The fourth was the worst thing that she had ever faced in her entire life, and with any luck it would remain that way until she peacefully died under a pile of her own gold. There had been sirens screaming through the air and coughing coming from the little nook under the stairs that they had taken refuge in after the money they had kept for their room had run out. Poppy hadn’t known what was happening when pox began to form in little welts all over her and her brother’s skin, nor had she been able to piece it out when her little body was overcome with the shaking, feverish hurt. The next thing that she could remember was the feeling of clammy, wet flash slipping over her fingertips as she tried to find purchase to locate her brother. The moment that she had found Jordie, it was clear that he wasn’t her brother anymore. Just like that, Poppy was alone and the name Reitveld had died.

The fifth was more of an abstract idea than a single event that had happened. Her body had begun to shift and change as she navigated her new life in the Barrel. Her face softened so she looked more like the sugar-coated memories of her mother instead of her brother and father. Her hips had begun to round, as well as her chest. She hadn’t been able to fit in the simple shirts that she stole from clotheslines and had to invest in not only a slip, but a corset to support herself. She hated the way that the constrictive garment fit on her, and she hated the way that she was spoken to even more. Her voice didn’t deepen the way that she had been expecting it to, which had left her uncomfortable and confused. It was more gravely than it had been before she had gotten sick, yet not in the way she had hoped. The changes were unwelcome and uncomfortable in a way that she didn’t have words to describe properly.

---

The Slat was the closest thing to a home that she had since her brother had sold the farm when she was nine. Her room was better described as a closet, but it had a bed and a basin that she could use to wash herself in private. She had a threadbare blanket and a pillow that could be better described as a stack of fabric, but they were hers. The lock on the door was shitty, so the only thing that she consistently left in her room was her spare set of clothes. Her coin pouch was always tucked next to her hip and buried beneath her skirts when she was working. She hated the skirts, but they got their purpose done when she wanted to obscure a revolver or dagger while out on the job.

Poppy had been wearing her singular pair of slacks since she hadn’t been working earlier that day. Not in the traditional sense, at least. She was almost always working on something since her mind and body wouldn’t let her rest unless she had some kind of purpose. Her purpose lately had become bettering the gang that she was involved with. While she was grateful to the Dregs and Per Haskell for keeping her off of the streets, she knew that times were changing and the old man was not. She was going to work to make the house less leaky and the gang more feared even if it killed her, not just for her but also because it would let her tear down a certain Emerald Palace that made her insides burn.

She had stopped by her room to change into something that would make her blend in more with the nightlife that she was going to be patrolling through that evening. She wasn’t looking forward to it, but she had done far more unpleasant and dehumanizing things until she was given a place within the gang. She knew that she always had the option of refusing a job if it was something she really didn’t feel like she could do. Per Haskell liked her and she could argue her way out of just about everything.

She shucked off her pants and then folded them neatly on the end of her bed. She reached down to tug on the hem of her chemise where it had bunched up underneath her corset. It reminded her of how uncomfortable she had been for the duration of her work, so she reached behind her for the bow she had tied with the laces. She undid it and then loosened the garment with well-practiced hands. Even the other women that worked for the Dregs had to help each other to get dressed the way that Poppy dressed, but the feeling of other people being in such a powerful place behind her made her stomach crawl.

She had been feeling uncomfortable with the form that her body had taken against her will since she woke up that morning. It had lessened a bit throughout the day as she had other things to take up that space in her mind, but it was always present. She half figured that she would always feel at least a little bit uncomfortable with her body and the idea of how her skin lay on top of her skeleton after everything that she had been through. Poppy hadn’t exactly grown up in the most stereotypical household, after all.

She needed more of the feminine wiles that she had long since learned to use to her advantage for the job that she was going to be on that evening. She was good at looking the part, distancing herself from the feelings that crept up from the bottom of her stomach and lodged in her throat.

Poppy carefully redid the laces on the back of her corset so that the garment was allowed to actually support her breasts instead of squishing them down so that she looked nearly flat again. She then tugged on her chemise to get it to lay properly before she grabbed the heavily pleated, full skirt from under her bed.

She undid the hook and eye on the back of the garment and then tossed it up over her head. Her arms went into the air to allow the waistband to fit over her chest before it naturally fell down to her waistline. Her nimble fingers then did the clasps up again so that it was secure around her body. She fidgeted with the waistband a little bit longer to make sure that it was seated properly and wouldn’t become uncomfortable. Then came the bodice.

The feeling of the pleats that came with shoving something as billowy as a chemise into something as tight as a bodice was one of Poppy’s least favorite when it came to clothing. It was better than wet rainwater dripping onto her skin, or the touch or another person when she wasn’t coated in layer after layer of protection, but it was still unpleasant.

She tugged the garment on over her chemise and then pulled at the delicately embroidered sleeves. When she had first started working with the Dregs she had barely anything, so she had to make all of the choices for what clothing she’d use for jobs such as her new assignment all at once. She had chosen a chemise with black work around the neck and cuffs so that it would both contrast against her white skin and bring out the darkness of her raven locks. The fact that the embroidery was also blockier in shape instead of the delicate, elegant swirl that the rest of the garments had held was merely a bonus.

She quickly did up the buttons on the front of the bodice so that it was hiding the majority of her corset and her chemise. It was fine for her to have it semi on display when she was wearing her heavy overcoat, giving mere glimpses to the people that passed her by. She hadn’t ever viewed the garment as something that was protecting what other people wanted but rather a way to change her shape and who she was entirely. She was playing a role that night though, so she had to look the part.

Her long black hair was pleated into an even braid that fell down her back as she searched for the iron pins that she had stashed underneath her bed after easily lifting them from a Mercher’s stall. Once she found them, she took the thick braid into her hair and then began to wind it around itself. She tucked the tail further into the swirl so that it wasn’t perceivable by people looking at it from behind her. She placed one of the pins into her mouth to open it before she shoved it into the bun and the hair stretching across the expanse of her head to hold it in place. She did that with all eight of her pins and then picked up the pretty flower barret that she had lifted the week after the pins. She figured that it would help the illusion that she was trying to set even if she felt apathetic at best towards such things.

She glanced her body over as she tugged her thick black gloves over her hands. She looked every bit the part that she needed to for her job, even if she was less than enthusiastic about having to do it. Her clothing was high quality fibers and weaves without being so pricey that someone would try to rob her. She didn’t need expensive makeups for the look she was going through either, the natural curves and hues of her face would do just fine.

Poppy tried to ignore the way that her stomach clenched at the thought. She had seen some of the other Dregs that looked as she did, but she was always more than they were. Her cheeks were rosier instead of having the stubble to shadow it like she so desperately wished for. Her nose was softer and her jawline blended too well into her neck. She was too soft, too delicate, not sharp and bitter like she wanted.

She was working to get there as quickly and efficiently as she could. She didn’t do anything halfway and she got what she wanted, no matter what was standing in her way. She may not have understood why the darkest part of her soul cried and begged for her to look like something that she never could, but it did and she was never one to refuse herself something like that. Power and money could buy her anything, so she harnessed her quick wit into a sharp tongue to make up for the softness of her body.

Tonight, though, the softness would give her the power that she needed.

She grasped her cane from where it had been leaning against the edge of the bed and slotted the birdhead perfectly into her palm. Her gloved fingers naturally wrapped around it and she subtly brushed her thumb along the underside of the beak in a nearly instinctual self-soothing gesture. She turned towards the door and walked out of her room, careful to lock it behind her by pulling out the tumblers after twisting them to the side. It may have seemed ridiculous to pick her own lock every time she wanted to come inside her room, but she just called it practice.

Poppy made her way down the steep stairs of the Slat until she was able to meet the man that she had been informed that she was going to be working with earlier that week when she got her orders. He was a tall Zemini man, short cropped hair and a soft yet angular face. There was a kind of in-betweenness that she wouldn’t quite let herself long for, but subconsciously knew that she wanted.

“Hello there,” the man smiled widely as he caught sight of her. His Kerch was clear and held little accent to it, but Poppy was still easily able to identify exactly where he haled from in Novyi Zem. He held his arm out for her and she begrudgingly took it. There was a reason that the bodice she had chosen had long sleeves and her chemise had even longer ones. Being a woman in a male-dominated space meant that she was more likely to be thrust into a role that required her to be touched and she didn’t want to refuse them. Taking more jobs and being easy to work with would make the boss more inclined to pass his business off to her when he finally kicked the bucket and would let her siphon away power from him while he lived.

“Good evening,” she replied curtly. She let her hand fall into the crevice of his arm but kept her body far enough away from him that they weren’t brushing up against each other. It was nice to have the excuse of a massive skirt when it came to that particular part of her job, she supposed. She would rather just not have to do it at all.

“What’s your name?” the man asked, his eyes still boring into the side of her head as they made their way out of the Slat and into the busy streets of Ketterdam.

She huffed, the words on the edge of her tongue and yet still sounding so wrong when she said them, “You may call me Poppy.”

“Poppy’s a wonderful name,” he beamed so wide that she wanted to punch him in his mouth just to see how many teeth she could knock out.

“Then you can have it, I’ve never been particularly fond of it,” she replied, letting the poison drip from her mouth like it always did. They were still walking side by side, weaving easily through the groups of people like they were a young teenage couple on a stroll to some opera or play instead of two dangerous criminals that were going to be trying to take down a competitor for their boss.

There was a beat of silence and she heard the man take in a sharp breath before he blew it out slowly. He then said, “My name is Kaz.”

“That’s not a very Zemini name,” she replied curtly. She knew that they had to pretend to be making pleasant conversation with each other so that they could go unnoticed while trying to infiltrate the more dangerous parts of the Barrel, but she also detested it.

“I thought that it would be best to pick a Kerch name when I came here as a child,” Kaz replied.

She turned and looked at him, scrutinizing his face for any kind of lie. It wouldn’t be the first time that someone had fed her a bunch of drivel about where they had come from or how tragic their pasts were to try and get closer to her. That was the main thing she hated about the body that she had grown into.

Instead of saying anything or trying to call him out on a bluff, she just turned her head back to the busy street and kept walking.

---

Missions came and went for Poppy, as they always had. Another change had occurred in her life, however, but this one seemed to be more pleasant than the other ones had been. Kaz was becoming a bit of a friend of hers.

She didn’t think that the other Dreg was at all suited for the life that he had fallen into. He was sweet and compassionate, and more than a little ignorant to the world around him. There had been more than one time where Poppy had to grab her dragger from where it was always hidden along her bodice so that she could protect him despite the fact that he carried a pistol on him at all times.

She hadn’t really known how to have friends before, she had been too young and too isolated on her farm when she was young enough to learn that skill. She didn’t make friends with the other Dregs because they were all far older than her and several of them had attempted to come onto her the first time that she had come out of her room dolled up. Kaz had never tried that on her, which she was eternally grateful for.

She often found herself sitting on his bed as he sang to himself, just enjoying his company. They ate together on most days and were paired up to go on missions and jobs more than they were with anyone else. They worked well together, especially when Kaz learned that Poppy didn’t like to be touched and liked being prodded about the same.

The moment of the sixth biggest change in her entire life came during one of those times. Poppy was sitting on the edge of Kaz’s bed, her head turned towards the window so that she could watch the flickering of the lamplight shining down on the passersby, people that were completely unaware of the sinisterness that ran deep within the veins of every person. She was wearing her chemise with her corset done up around her chest to push it down because she couldn’t tolerate the lump that it left when she got dressed that morning. It was the same reason that she had chosen her pants that day despite some of the work that she was told to do.

Kaz was perched on the little stool that he had for the vanity he had bought with the money he saved from working for the Dregs. Poppy didn’t understand why he would want something that expensive when he could have paid for something far more crucial to everyday life. She didn’t question him as she barely understood the minds of others outside of how to get what she wanted from them.

They were both quiet as Kaz picked at some of the little bottles of perfume that he had splayed out over the top of his vanity. “Poppy?” he asked, his eyes flickering up to meet her own in the mirror.

“Yes?” she asked. She had been speaking lower that day, which was helped by the injuries that her childhood sickness had given to her throat.

“How much do you know about Novyi Zem?” he asked, still refusing to turn and look at her.

That gave her pause. She traced her gloved fingers up and down the head of her cane for a moment as she thought about the way that she wanted to respond. Finally, she said, “I would say a fair amount.”

Kaz turned to face her finally and she almost jumped back when she saw the intensity of the emotion in his eyes. Before she had the chance to ask what was wrong with him or why he was acting the way that he was, he said, “I think that I’m a girl. It’s a very common thing in Novyi Zem but it was still going to be so hard to transition if I stayed back in my hometown because so many people had known me as I was but then I came here and it doesn’t seem like anyone is so I just changed who I was so that they wouldn’t find me. But I don’t think that I can keep going on like this. Were you serious about giving me your name?”

For some reason, the idea of switching genders had never occurred to Poppy before. It was likely because she had been too busy pickpocketing people to survive and vividly reliving the worst moments in her life every time she closed her eyes. Having the short first sentence that her friend had said spread out in front of her for the first time left her sitting on his- her, Poppy reminded herself- bed with her mouth open like an idiot.

She had apparently been too quiet for too long because Kaz stood up and bolted for the door, which she locked. Kaz almost never locked her door because she was too trusting, something Poppy had chided her for time and time again. “I’ll give you a month’s wages if you promise not to tell anyone.”

“What? Absolutely not,” she, Poppy shuddered at the reference to himself as that in his own mind. His thoughts were whirring faster than the waters that lapped at the massive stone piers of Ketterdam. Everything that had come with the discomfort of growing up and going through puberty suddenly made sense. The disgust and borderline fit that he had when Jordie had woven all of those blue ribbons into his hair to try and make him look presentable for that godforsaken meeting that ended up being their downfall. The fact that he hated touch was most likely a combined side effect of what had happened on the Reaper’s Barge and the fact that his body did not feel like his own.

The realization that he was a boy rang through his head like the morning bells, waking up a part of himself that he hadn’t even realized existed. “Will you calm down?” he snapped when Kaz was still fluttering about her small room to try and fix her perceived slight on him.

“How can I calm down when I just bared my soul for you and you’re likely going to have me killed for it?” she asked, rather melodramatically, as she sat herself back down on her stool.

“I will do no such thing,” Poppy shook his head. “I was simply realizing that being a different gender than the one that you were assigned at birth is an option for me as well. And plenty of people here are trans, it’s just something that you’re expected to keep rather hushed up. No one talks about themselves as much as you do, Kaz.”

Relief had spread over her features the more that he spoke and reassured her that she was safe with him. The moment that he said her name, she deflated and looked down at where she was worrying her hands together in front of her. “Oh, please don’t call me that,” she murmured.

“Right,” he nodded. “I was never particularly fond of my name but I certainly can’t use it now.”

“What?” she asked, tilting her head up at her friend in surprise.

“You’ve opened my eyes to something that has been staring me in the face since I was ten. I’m a boy and you’re a girl, but we have mismatched names. We should switch,” he replied simply, as if he hadn’t just discovered something that was going to affect his every waking moment from that second forward.

---

Kaz Brekker was born on that late Summer evening. The smell of rain and the perfumes that his close friend Poppy had used soaked into the memory, mixing with the euphoria of being who he was. They had constructed an elaborate hoax where they both disappeared for a while and then returned under the correct genders with the names that they preferred. There were a few people that recognized them and tried to make a stink, but they were quickly dealt with.

Months later, Kaz would become the leader of the Dregs and then promise to buy the building that would become the Crow Club with Poppy. However, he knew that as the leader of a gang he couldn’t have someone that knew something so sensitive about him so close to him. So, despite the fact that she was his only friend, he double crossed her until he was the only owner of the Crow Club. They didn’t see each other again for a long while, until he took an incredibly risky job, but the feelings of resentment she harbored for him could only go so far since Kaz had given her her name.

#fanfiction #fanfic #writing #ao3 #archive of our own #grishaverse #shadow and bone tv #shadow and bone #six of crows #soc #kaz brekker #poppy cox #trans kaz brekker #trans poppy cox #opium lidded daydreams fic

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marshmallowprotection · 9 months

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Kait!! Look, Saeyoung will be in heaven!! They are around like.. 15-17 cats in general lmfao

Wanna know the most fun part? YOU CAN PET NEARLY EVERY SINGLE ONE. In fact, most of them even follow you around for head pats and cuddles! The 5 kittens here will think you're their parent and the others usually want some head scratches!

There are these 3 gray and white cats who only follow you for head scratches (the third one took a bit to trust me and today I head him purring for the first time, he has such a quiet purr though-)

They are these two very identical white with some black cats who start licking you even if all you did is stroke their head like.. one time. They keep rubbing your leg and meow at you. (Although they'll mostly lick whatever skin they find on you AHAHAHA)

Saeyoung will be so happy LMFAO. Wait until I tell him that we have like 50 or so chickens and a BIG ASS field! We got like.. infinite eggs!! There's even a garden here where we raise vegetables as well~

We used to have two dogs and goats but they aren't here anymore. Honestly, I would have LOVED to see Saeyoung do the same thing my uncle did with a goat LMFAO

My uncle basically sat on a goat's back and did a gesture like he was riding a motorcycle by touching it's horns ANDHWHDH

And you actually need a car or to use a bus to get around here where I am. So I think that Saeyoung would be very happy driving around here! Although he'll need somewhere to park his car and sadly, I don't think he can bring his whole collection T_T

We even have a beach near us so I think he'll also be very happy to go and relax there! I remember someone fishing one day while I passed by my grandma to dive in. So I think Saeyoung would be really happy about it!

Ah, I wish I could also ride the bike with Saeyoung! Would be fun doing races! The current ones we have are uncomfortable to ride sadly.

The bittersweet thing is that while no one is riding their bikes here like back then, the house in front of us has two kids and even some relatives who come with their own kids and today they played outside! Reminded me so much of the old good days.

It's funny how it used to be one or two kids from nearly each house but now it's only one house, although they don't play that often outside. I had a smile watching them, though.^^

I was originally gonna ramble a bit about Yatora but I think I'll leave it for another ask, Kait! I have a lot to ramble about him as well SKDHWJD

It's been a while since I rambled about doing things with Saeyoung, hehe. I love both Saeyoung and Yatora so much, I'm so happy they are in my life! I wanna shower them both with so much affection and make them a flustered mess~!

I hope you have been doing well, Kait! It's really warm these days so stay hydrated and take care! <3

See, that is also a literal heaven for me. I would love to just flop over on the ground and have a dozen cats decide to be my best friend. Honestly, who doesn't want to do that? Who doesn't want to be swarmed by a dozen cats? I'm sure maybe somebody who is allergic might feel that way, but that ain't me and I am here to pet some kitties. But, I think it's worth saying that Saeyoung would eat this up, too.

He clearly is the kind of person who wants to enjoy the outdoors. He loves animals more than anything so if you put him in a chicken coop and tell him to go crazy, I'm pretty sure the situation will turn into something where he is either getting chased down by the entire flock or he's helping them get exercise. Either way, you're going to laugh at him when he inevitably trips in the mud. Farm life is not for him but he's going to fight for it.

Can you imagine that? I don't know if Yatora would do that to you but... It's still funny.

#mod kait #ask #stormflypirateskin

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sm-writes-chaos · 6 months

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Tell me about This was my Heartstopper!

Ah yes the wonderful "prince and the pauper" situation. Don't know why I named it that lol (was I ever planning to make it a romance??) This was from a while ago..

Our main characters consist of Keneth and Ned. The former a farmer who wants more, and the later the son of a knight who wants more stability in his life. So they switch places.

Some snippets: (uh long)

Keneth grabbed the feed out from the barn and shielded his eyes from the glaring sun. It was hotter than usual. Maybe even the hottest day of the year. The chickens didn’t even seem to notice, and came running out into the hot sun for food. Other than the unusual weather, everything was the same. The same boring landscape, the same boring chores, and the same boring life. Why couldn't I have been born into a more exciting family. Like a family of knights! Don’t get him wrong, Keneth loved his family, but he couldn’t help but want a more exciting life. Keneth sighed and finished up feeding the chickens. After he put the feed away, and walked out to a wood fence, that marked his family's property. He often went to the edge of the property and looked out at the surrounding land. But something was different. Something strange. Something exciting. A whole barrage of clowns were running around in the fields. Keneth gasped and stared in amusement. The clowns ran every which way, squirting water on each other, slamming pies in their faces, and honking horns. “Okay, when I said exciting I meant something more, well…..less clownish.” Keneth yelled at the small breeze,“What even is this?! How am I supposed to react in a situation like this?!” Keneth had his legs wrapped around the fence, while he raised his hands in the air with confusion. He nearly fell backwards onto the dirt below, and he swore he could hear one of the clowns laughing at him.

When Ned was just walking down the road by himself, was when his mind decided to think about things he didn’t like to think about.In between adventures, Ned couldn’t help but think he was getting bored. Or at least, not liking it anymore. His life was on a constant treadmill, and he was scrambling to keep up. His whole life had been about fighting and seeking the next thrill, but it often just felt like a gerbil on a wheel. Constantly spinning with no apparent stop.Ned tried to shake off these thoughts, and focus on what he was going to fight next. That’s when he spotted the clowns.

“Hey you okay?” The kid said with a big grin, all up in Keneth’s face. “Uh, I think so.” Keneth looked at his arms and legs for injuries. “Names Ned, you're welcome by the way.” “Oh uh thanks. I’m Keneth. What were those things… by the way.” His voice started to squeak a little by the end, which was new for him. You didn’t tend to get terrified out of your mind on a peaceful farm. “Right! Those guys. Bad news. Those are Clownmicks. They move in packs, and are mostly harmless, unless you get on their turf, which is what you were doing.” Ned was looking out into the distance. Squinting his eyes to make sure there wasn’t any more danger. “Oh sorry about that.” Keneth held his head in shame. “I don’t get around much, but how did you get to be such a great fighter? But I’m sure I could’ve handled them myself.” Keneth mimicked holding a sword, slashing this way and that. “Heh, sure you could. My dad’s the lieutenant of the great Royal Army, so I grew up with swords since the moment I was born.” Ned exaggerated a little. “Whoa, your father is the Great Herold Bergines?!” Ned looked smug, and suddenly remembered about his bread. Before he pounced on the clowns, he wrapped it up in his handkerchief, safe and sound. He held some out to Keneth, “Bread?” “Uh sure.” Keneth was told to never accept food from strangers, but he seemed fine. Keneth was getting this odd feeling about him though, he tried not to stare, but he could swear that face looked strangely familiar. “What’re you staring at?” Looks like he wasn’t covert.

“I get the feeling I’ve seen you before.” “Probably, I’m pretty famous. Even got a couple enemies in my lifetime.” “So you can just do stuff? Whenever you want? “ “Yeah I guess so. I always just fight whatever beast I can find.” “And no one like, stops you??” Keneth was dumbfounded. All his life everyone had watched every move he’d made, correcting it, scolding it, and when he did just what they wanted, he was left alone. “Wait, so you can’t do that?” Ned asked. He assumed other kids didn’t have the exact same life as him, but it made sense to him to let kids do what they want, make mistakes, get experiences, and have adventures. (Which was the most important.) Keneth nodded his head, he couldn’t begin to imagine what Ned's life was like. “I work the farm behind me, it’s pretty boring.” “So you….. don’t do anything?” “That’s a bit of a stretch, but I guess so.” Who was this guy? Was he trying to insult him? Keneth thought. “That must be nice.” “Honestly it’s kinda boring. You just do the same chores everyday, and make food to sell. And taking care of all the animals is a real pain, but it can be nice sometimes.” While Keneth complained about his life, Ned was fascinated. Ned thought about what Keneth said earlier, about him looking familiar, and couldn’t help but think the same thing about Keneth. Keneth was going on and on about the farm. Ned suddenly jumped up and removed a piece of chest armor he had under his small cape. “What are you doing?” Keneth asked. “Look into this armor!” “What?” Keneth was even more confused. “Just look, don’t we look similar to you?” They both looked into the reflective price of armor, it was fuzzy, and the armor was dirty, but there was no mistaking it. They looked kind of similar. “That must be why you looked familair!” Keneth exclaimed. They only have one mirror in the farmhouse, and he doesn’t like to look at himself much, so he didn’t notice right away. “I’ve only seen myself in armor reflections.” “Really? You don’t have a mirror?” “We’re always on the move, so I don’t really get a chance. But it’s not very important.” “Whoa. That’s pretty cool.” Keneth said. But Ned didn’t answer, because he started to have an idea. An idea that could bring a lot of trouble, but could be worth it. “Hey, I just thought of an amazing idea!” “Well it better be quick, cause I have to go back to the farm or I’m gonna get in trouble.” He pointed to the fence behind him, he was itching to get behind it again, but once he did that, all this would be over. “What if you didn’t have to go back to the farm?” “What? What are you talking about?” “Don’t freak out, just hear me out. What if we switched places?” “WHAT.” “I said don’t freak out!” Keneth brought his voice to a loud whisper, “Switch places? What the heck did those clowns hit you in the head cause you’re a little cuckoo right now what the heck SWITCH PLACES??!!!” Ned laughed a little at Kenneth's reaction. “We look similar, it could be just for a day or two, doesn’t that sound fun?” Keneth gulped, if his father found out, if the freaking knights beat him up for impersonating the lieutenant's son….. he couldn’t. “I- I don’t know what to say.” “Say yes! You said how your life was boring and how you hate the farm, so try a more exciting life!” “I don’t…. Hate the farm…” “But it’s boring, and my life’s more exciting, so try it!” “But why do you want to live my life when yours is ‘so great’,” Keneth quoted. Ned didn’t know what to say, he didn’t want to admit, especially to himself, that he hated his life. After all, he gets to live with the knights, his dads the lieutenant! “Well, I just… want to try something different, Is that so bad?” Keneth knew there was probably more to it. He probably just wanted to steal all his stuff. But he couldn’t just pass up an opportunity like this. How often do you find your doppelganger that has the life you want?

The clowns were random but I think I was just stumped for a monster to add lol.

Thanks for the ask it was nice to reminisce on these guys!

#Ask #snippets #writblr #writing

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female-malice · 2 years

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Hello queen. I've been lurking your blog and it seems you are an emo music enjoyer and by the calculations of you age, you were at the time some of it peaked. Would you mind talking about how was emo in the USA when you listened to it? Help a woman with a music podcast

Hi!!!

So, I will say I hit middle school right when mall emo took off. 2006.

As an adult, I now know it didn't just spring up out of nowhere. The genre started in the late 90s. Texas is the Reason, the one album wonders from New York, developed the layered emo guitar sound in 1996.

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Both emo and pop punk have whiny lyrics. It's the guitar style that makes emo a unique genre.

The DNA of emo is post-hardcore. "Post" in rock genres is just a fancy word for "artsy, melodic, and long." Hardcore punk is 90 second songs of macho screaming with terrible guitarists, heavy distortion peddles, and virtuoso drummers. If you want to make that artsy, melodic, and long, you've got your work cut out for you. Emo brought in the clean picked reverb guitar found in post-rock and shoegaze. Marrying two opposite sounds is what makes emo compelling. The transition between noisy distorted power chords and gentle clean picking, that's emo.

But, okay, I didn't know any of this emo science when I was 11 😂

Before I discovered emo, I listened to a lot of pop punk and nu metal. That's what my older brothers listened to. Avril Lavigne, Green Day, Blink 182, Linkin Park, Alien Ant Farm.

I made friends with this girl, K, on the first day of middle school. She showed me My Chemical Romance. And a week into our friendship, in October 2006, The Black Parade came out. I immediately illegally downloaded the entire album. One mp3 at a time.

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My fashion sense was already Avril Lavigne and Tank Girl. I had all my brothers' hand-me-downs. In my attempt to turn those hand-me-downs into Avril Lavigne, I was accidentally dressing emo. I'd come to school wearing what I thought was Avril, but everyone would ask me "are you emo?" And I'd just say yes.

I wasn't really sure what emo was. I knew MCR was emo, but that was just a band I put on my ipod nano. I wasn't a band, I was a 12 year old. So how could I be emo? But people kept calling me emo. So I decided to lean into it 😂

We had some wacky costume spirit day in 6th grade. And I came to school like this:

All black with the red tie and makeup. But my hair was brown and not black. And that bothered me so so so much. I remember some 8th graders laughed at me in the girls' bathroom. This only fueled my growing emo convictions.

K died her hair black and it did not look good at all. But I was still jealous.

I asked my parents if I could see the Black Parade tour live with K in Spring 2007. They said no. I remember K made this little stuffed Gerard Way doll. It looked awesome, like official merch, but she made it herself. Her plan was to somehow give it to Gerard at the concert. Instead she told me she got knocked around in the mosh pit and the doll got torn. If I was there, I could've helped her throw that doll on stage. I wish my parents understood that.

Around that time, I also got into the Used and bought a Panic! at the Disco album.

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Towards the end of 6th grade, I befriended other emo and emo-adjacent girls at my school. Emo-adjacent mostly meant scene kids and ravers. We'd all hang out together. But we'd never be caught dead with someone who wore Abercrombie and listened to Taylor Swift. It wasn't personal, it was political.

One of my new emo friends, A, had her hair died black and it actually looked really good. Her step-mom was a Hot Topic manager, so her hair and outfits were always incredible. A was tall and gorgeous and sad. I was in love with her, and she was in love with Davey Havok. She had his exact haircut. And she had me help her pierce her lip in the girls' bathroom.

At the end of my 6th grade year, Paramore happened. I bought the album immediately. I was 100% sold. Emo was the future.

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That summer, I went to the mall. I went to Hot Topic. I bought an AFI album, a Taking Back Sunday album, and a studded belt. I went to Zumiez and got some checkered vans. I went full mall emo. I printed out Pon and Zi and anime death angels and taped them to my school journals.

I set up my myspace page. I browsed MCRmy.com and MCR forums on Gaia Online. On the emo internet, I learned that the MCR fandom and Fall Out Boy fandom were bitter enemies. I'd already sworn my allegiance to MCR. From that point on, I regarded FOB as second rate. I made it my mission to remind everyone that Pete Wentz was a fugly manslut.

I read My Immortal while Tara was still publishing it. I never got around to reading MCR fanfiction, but K told me all about Frerard. I watched plenty of emo AMVs, but I always came back to this classic. Sorry about the language but it was 2007 and I was raised on South Park. So it was par for the course back then.

Here's what you need to understand about the first wave of mall emo in 2006-2008: Yes, the part about emo girls cutting themselves is true. But I now know that girls were doing that regardless of what their hobbies were. It's just that in the emo subculture, we'd talk about it and laugh about it. Maybe that's sick, but that's how we were. The first rule of emo was to always make fun of yourself. We were always making fun of the genre and the bands and the fashion we loved. We were always calling each other emo as an insult. And when someone else called us emo as an insult, we'd embrace it and laugh and play it up.

Initially, the mall emo subculture was completely irreverent. Nothing was sacred, least of all the subculture itself. Mall emo changed into something more sensitive later. But initially, we were mean and negative and having a great time. Emo musicians were mostly male. The mall emo subculture was mostly female. And we spent all our time disparaging the whiny men writing our favorite lyrics.

The scene and raver subcultures objectified girls, but the emo subculture was all about girls objectifying boys. Mall emo and myspace were the beginning of e-boys. And the more sick and miserable the e-boy looked, the better. I didn't really get it, but my straight female friends sure did. They'd collect miserable little shrimpy boys who had crushes on them. They'd let the shrimpy boys follow them around. Then they'd dare them to kiss each other, and post pictures of it on myspace. And we'd laugh at them and they'd laugh at themselves.

So when I'd watch MCR concert videos and see shrimpy Frank kiss Gerard, I knew the context. All of it was ironic self-objectification for their female audience. The guys who engaged in gay e-boy behavior were always straight. And we all knew they were straight. And that's what made it a show. That's what attracted the teenyboppers.

Despite headlining the biggest festivals in the world, Thursday was nowhere on my radar. They weren't on any of my friends' radars either. I mean, we knew about them because they were friends with MCR. Geoff Rickly produced MCR's first album. But none of us got into them. Something about Thursday made them completely immune to teenyboppers. Perhaps it's because Geoff's lyrics were about real life and real politics that we were too young to understand. Perhaps it's because they didn't perform in costumes. Maybe it's because Thursday never kissed each other on stage.

Back then, Frank Iero was being crazy on stage and wearing makeup and kissing Gerard. And he was a superstar with a rabid following. And he was completely straight and engaged to the love of his life.

Meanwhile, Steve Pedulla, Thursday's guitarist, was doing year-round global tours with five men he'd known for a decade. And none of those men knew he was gay. It's not like you could actually be an out gay musician in the post-hardcore scene.

Ironically, the genre-defining emo guitar sound was developed by the Texas is the Reason guitarist, Norman Brannon. And Norman Brannon is a gay man.

Both Steve and Norman have since come out. If you want to learn more about that, I highly recommend this podcast with Geoff, Steve, and Norman.

Thursday's massive success paved the way for mall emo. But Thursday themselves never made inroads with the mall crowd. They were a bit too real for us.

Back to my 2007 teenybopper era.

In seventh grade, my mom let me go to a local emo show at a DIY venue. I don't remember any of the names of those little bands, but I remember adding the band members on Myspace. They were all 17 year old dudes. But as my middle school friends liked to say, "age is just a number!" 😬 The scene and raver girls in my posse were pretty sus. But we had some fun times together. We watched a lot of horror movies. We started campaigns to try to get our school to play emo songs at school dances. We were finally victorious and got them to play HelloGoodbye.

And then, after that school dance, everyone in the school was listening to HelloGoodbye.

And then MetroStation happened. And everyone in the school was listening to MetroStation. And Shake It got in the next school dance without any campaigning on our part. Hey There Delilah did too.

Suddenly, everyone was listening to mall emo. Suddenly, girls who wore Abercrombie were putting Christofer Drew posters in their bedrooms.

What had we done!?

Our subculture was no longer a subculture. It was mainstream pop culture. Suddenly, we were no longer weird.

By the end of 7th grade, everyone was listening to The Academy Is and 3OH!3. The careful guitar layering was almost completely gone from pop emo. All that remained was the whiny vocals. But by that point, I was listening to industrial goth and visual kei. I had moved on to new subcultures.

After a few years away from it all, I met an MCR fan in high school in 2011. She encouraged my to get back into it and give Danger Days a listen. She was still heavily involved in the mall emo scene, but that scene had changed. She was nice, but she was a lot more serious and sensitive about it all. She didn't make fun of herself. She didn't disparage and objectify shrimpy men, she just dated them. She wasn't like my 2007 crew. In the summer before our senior year, she changed her name, started testosterone, and left for a different school.

In college, my friends and I compared notes on our different emo adventures in 2006-2008. My college friends were more into the singing aspect of emo. Anthony Green and Claudio Sanchez were belting in a way that only Hayley Williams could rival. In fact, Anthony Green's countertenor range went so high, he had to have two bands. Saosin is the radio-friendly band where he sings in a normal tenor range. Circa Survive is the band where he basically only sings in his upper octave. Claudio Sanchez is the Coheed and Cambria singer. That band is its own subculture with its own fictional metaverse and massive comic book series. I can tell Gerard Way and Ray Toro did everything possible to turn MCR into Coheed. I'm glad that Frank kept them from going too far in that direction.

A few years ago, I saw Frank Iero and Geoff Rickly live. It was awesome.

#emo chronicles

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bookworm-called-bear · 2 years

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Flower in a Field of Wheat - PT. 2

Charlie Gardner hated New Years. That is what he decided on January 1st at 12:05 AM sitting on a park bench in front of the apartment complex that the Matthews lived in. No one would come look for him in the biting cold of the January day, and he didn’t bother to move.

Had he done something wrong? Was he just not good enough? He tried to be funny and kind and sweet. He tried to remember all the little things that Riley liked. He tried to be charismatic. He was fine with not talking if they just got to be with each other. But Riley Matthews didn’t think that was enough. Would it be enough for anyone?

“Hey,” a soft voice laced with a thick southern accent cut through his thoughts. The accent only reminded him of how he would never be better than Lucas. “You look like you could take a thinking break.” At that, Charlie burst out into laughter. He didn’t know why he did it, maybe it was spontaneous, maybe he did need it, but that accent and those words lifted some of the melancholy cloud that had settled over his shoulders.

He turned to see who in the world would talk to a stranger past midnight in New York in a random street and what he saw surprised him. There was a girl with her auburn hair tied into a loose knot on the back of her head with a collared shirt over a white turtleneck and a pair of light blue jeans. Her eyes were a mixture of blue and green and her hands which kept fiddling wore calluses as if from holding a bow and arrow all her life.

“Ursa Major is my favorite constellation,” she said, voice still barely above a whisper, staring at the dark abyss of the night that held the last remains of the fireworks. When she turned back to Charlie his eyebrow was raised. “Sorry, I thought you could use a distraction from whatever got your shoulders slumping like that.” She said it without shame or fear, as if she knew she was just trying to help.

“No,” Charlie found himself saying, “keep going. You’re right, I need something to distract myself from that. Tell me more.” Her eyes lit up and one of her calloused hands reached toward the sky. His eyes followed her finger as they drew lines between some stars.

“It’s made up of seven stars,” she started, “Bhrigu, Atri, Angiras, Vasishtha, Pulastya, Pulaha, and Kratu. These are mostly blue dwarves. But it’s based off a myth about the internet of Artemis. But mostly I like it cause I was told as a kid that she protected me.” Charlie was now fully engrossed in the conversation. It was something that he couldn’t change, when someone was talking he was fully tuned in.

“That’s amazing. I really only know a few constellations. Who told you that she would protect you?” Charlie asked as the girl turned to face him on the bench, her wonderful eyes no longer trained toward the heavens above.

“I would expect. It’s really sad, you can barely see the stars anymore. You should come down to Texas. On my Grandpa’s farm you can see them so clearly. That’s who told me the story. My Papa Joe. He used to say ‘don’t worry little rose, that bear up there is the same as the one in your heart. She’ll protect you if you just let her.” Her smile stretched from ear to ear and her dimples were barely showing in the light of the street lamps.

“Your grandpa sounds amazing,” Charlie whispered, no longer focused on the events of that night, now engrossed with the odd girl in front of him that went out of her way to make a stranger feel better.

“What about you Mystery Man? Any family stories? Big brothers you used to wrestle with?” She asked as if they had been friends for years, not ten minutes.

“No brothers, just a handful of sisters. They love to make me watch romcoms on the weekend. But hey I’m well versed now.” He laughed lightly as the girl, Rosie?, smiled at him, sweet and soft.

“I’ll have to meet them sometime. Yknow I think you’re the first friend I made here in New York.” Charlie looked at her in disbelief. The girl who came up to a random stranger on the street to talk to help him feel better didn’t have any friends here.

“Where are you going to high school?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking. He found a small part of his soul hoping it was his own.

“Abigail Addams I think.” And at those words his heart leaped with joy. She was coming to his school. He grabbed her hand and a small pen as he jotted the string of 10 numbers along her thumb.

“We’ll there. I’ll be your first friend at Abigail Adams High too.” She laughed at him before grabbing his hand and walking away from the bench outside the Matthews Apartment but Charlie didn’t care.

“Come on, we’re getting coffee and then I’ll walk you to your house so I can find you tomorrow!” She said, words coming out faster than he could process them but he found himself grinning.

And that was how they spent their night, drinking coffee and talking about everything. Charlie learned that her full name was Rosemary but everyone called her Rose or Rosie (Charlie was working on finding something different to call her, something all his own). He learned she loved books and tea and singing. She played the bass guitar and piano and would do most of the cooking back home in Texas.

Rosemary learned that Charlie knew her brother and that he was the sweetest kindest soul in the universe. He praised his sisters on how smart they were, he would watch her with interested eyes when she rambled. He liked popcorn with black licorice(which she found quite intriguing since her favorite was popcorn with m and Ms). He loved fantasy movies but had a hard time reading due to the slight dyslexia that ran in his family. His favorite subject was history because it was entertaining but he also loved art. He perfected paint and charcoal but tended to stay in the back of the class.

Charlie couldn’t take his eyes off her for the whole night. It fascinated him how she would listen to everything he said and have a soft smile as if she was happy that he was talking. He learned that she loved sleeping under the stars and had always wanted to dance in the rain(he saved that tidbit for later) and for the first time in forever, he felt as if he was truly being listened to. And with each passing second he found that he was very happy to be spending his new year with Rosemary, no matter if they hadn’t been together at midnight.

#charlie gardner #girl meets world #i love my oc #rosemary #Rosemary friar #lucas friar #riley matthews #maya hart #she just wants to vibe #oc shenanigans #she deserves the best #Rosemary x Charlie

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osamusriceballs · 5 months

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Eve!!! I’ve finally finished w midterms and went straight to ur profile to catch up and read ur fics😩😩(they’re sooooo good🤍🤍) did you ever get to go to the anime convention? You must be super stoked to see fall out boy- r they one of your favorite bands? Have you been busy(w holiday season) and have you been taking care of yourself? Give me an update plz🤲🏻🤲🏻

To respond from the last time: i do have to be familiar w the products Im selling but I love working w the customers so it’s worth having to do modules to learn the products (the other day I helped a 80-smth y/o woman learn how to do her makeup- it was so heartwarming seeing her smile) my classes are both theory and practice(mostly the later)

Imma j drop this off right here: husband!Kita and you out farming in the fields during a breezy autumn day, finally deciding to take a break before the day ends and holding a little picnic- u and kita simply laughing and enjoying the time you’re able to spend together🤍🤍

-🧚🏼‍♀️(live and miss u Eve! Sending big hugs and warm smiles) (hydration check!)

PLS, YOU'RE MAKING ME BLUSH HERE, I'm glad you enjoyed the fics T.T #happytears <3

Yes, I went to the anime convention!! I cosplayed as Nami from one piece and I had such a great time! I went with a friend that I met at work a few years ago (he was a regular in a cafe where I used to work and we bonded over anime), and he brought two of his friends, and I was really nervous at first, because I usually never really hang around boys only groups, but they were so nice and kind and considerate- like asking if I needed a jacket from one of them, because it was a bit cold, they were constantly worried about my feet because I wore rather high heels and we were walking quite a lot, one of them had my hairbrush and my water in his bag and he asked multiple times if I needed something- it was crazy. They surely took really good care of me and I had a great time!! <3

And the fall out boy concert was last week, AND IT WAS SO COOL OMG T.T the trip was very tiring (5 hours with the train to Berlin and 8 hours with the bus to come home) BUT THE CONCERT ITSELF!! SO DAMN GOOD T.T I loved every second of it!! Fall out boy just remembers me of good old times that's why I wanted to see them so badly <3 are you a fan too?

But enough of me!! <3

I'm sure it's very rewarding to work with kind and nice customers, the story with the old lady is so cute, I'm sure she was really happy that you took your time and did her make up!! Did you recommend any products to her? And what products do you recommend to customers often? Do you sometimes get free samples at work? Give me the secret insider tips, I'm all here for it!! <3

I hope that you still have some free time between the theory and practice classes T.T I'm sure that it's all very time consuming. Do you get to choose some of the seminars that you have to take or are they all fixed? I hope the midterms went well, do you have a break now? <3 you surely deserve it for working so hard, I know how hard it is to study and to work part-time, it's definitely not easy, you're doing so well! <3

Oh god, it's as if you could read my mind, lately I've been fantasizing a lot about husband Kita T.T he's the man, he's the ultimate husband, he's GOALS for sure <3 just the thought of all these soft moments with him- I'm melting here <3

Being farmer Kita's wife - PLS, THAT'S A NEED T.T all the soft and cute moments in the fields- watching the sunset while holding hands, imagine how he'd watch your side profile with a fond smile on his lips and thanking every deity in this world that he gets the be the lucky man on your side T.T I'm not okay here, I need kisses from husband Kita T.T

I hope you're having a great weekend, my little sunshine, and I hope that you're doing well too!! Stay healthy and hydrated, don't overwork yourself and smile when you read this!! <3 *HUGS YOU BACK*

#🧚🏼- anon #my warmest and cutest sunshine! <3 #LOVE YOU TOO MY SWEETHEART!! <3 #Your messages are always the cutest <3 #get some good rest tonight!! <3

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disastersteps · 11 months

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a little moment somewhere in Happy Ending 202X au.... uhhh yeet!!! Ugh this feel like a post innocent-ending but this is like after Anita destroyed the Farm (if ever) and Ortega knew them... deeply? dgsmdgmsmg

----

"Yeah... Yeah... Chen I know what I'm doing. Most of the stuff are already cleaned up," Ortega says, "Did you managed to- Oh. Good, that's good. They will feel better when I tell the news!"

"Huh, how are they?" Ortega walks across a dirt path, squinting at the sky that was slowly falling into the dark, "...They're trying to heal, but it's slow, and you knew them, they're a stubborn idiot."

She arrived in a remote location, the forests are quiet tonight and it's strange to be here that is far from Los Diablos. At least, her mom's home is close by, but far of course.

The cabin was left abandoned once upon time, and Ortega only remembered this place because she came across it when she used to visit her mom, and well, it was a place to drink and other... But now the mourning of that time was overtaken by someone that lives there.

As she reached the door, and went in- she was greeted by the sound of the whirring noise. She looked down and grins.

Weird to see Rat King out there, in a moving orb with a display as their 'face'.

"Hey there, girls- where's your parent?" Ortega half-joked, and the orb whirs once more, the display showing-

🍅👓🛌

"Bed already?" Ortega chuckles.

😫👉🍅😩 @ 👉😉⚡

"And they miss me?" Ortega managed to translate that a bit, and the orb nod. Nodding a little quick, "I was only gone for a day."

The orb makes a noise, and they don't need another set of emojis when you can hear a 'pleaseeee' whirring noise.

"Alright, alright, go and charge yourself, alright? I will check on them."

The cabin is mostly empty, it's still barely a month or so since everything happened. Harbinger had long gone, or so the news say..

Beyond the door is Harbinger, retired.

When Ortega opened, she stifled a laugh when she is greeted by a bundle of blanket that is forming a little mountain on that bed.

"Neets?"

She nearly lost her shit when a tiny head pops out of that blanket and they look so doozy but once they see her, they groan and flop back into the pillow that was under their chin.

Ortega sighs with a smile, and went to the bed, sat at the edge and lean over to where Anita's head had been.

There's Anita on the pillow, and when they turn their head they pout.

"That was a long day."

Ortega snorts. "When you're a villain that destroyed a government property and leave a lot of mess for the rest of us to clean up, yeah, you're right- it is a long day, you idiot."

"Well, idiot. They got what they deserved" Anita shrugged, and Ortega hums.

Without a though, the woman untied her boots, and not caring to remove her work clothes, she nudge her partner a bit, letting Anita to scoot away a bit for Ortega to have a space. She snuggled in, under the shared blanket and wrap a arm over Anita's body. She had noticed they started to wear less and less clothing.

Just a tank, and shorts.

Fragile trust that had been build up over a year or so, she had noticed. She had long since past that feeling and only see them as Anita.

Next thing they knew, it had been a few hours and Rat King, in their orb, making so much loud whirring noises- reminding them that it's pretty late and none of them hadn't eaten.

"Ay, dios- This is late." She mumbles glancing at the clock, and Anita mumbles nonsense as they cuddled her further, "--Neets. Neets, your daughters are making a ruckus. We should get up and-"

"After tonight, they're your daughters-"

"...Don't- don't Mufasa me, Anita!" Ortega widen her eyes and Anita nearly laugh at their own line.

#...idk where to end this so leaving it as ambiguous ending SDNGSNDGNS #mywritings #myaus | happy ending 202x #BYE IM RUNNING AWAY

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cagenewman · 1 year

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CONT'D FROM HERE.

He really was this farm boy, a guy that grew up away from the city and town really. That has fun with what was around him. That he had good time just running around with the farm animals and riding a horse. He worked from a young age too, everyone had to lend a hand around the ranch and it was normal. But he did remember he had a couple toys mostly trucks and cars and action figures at the most. He made a face “I’ve seen that they they are young… no dressing up much yet” he wasn’t ready for them to become that age. To have reason to go out and dress up. “But maybe it will be nice they do have clothes and stuff they like to dress up in for fun like the princess thing” he looked at the row of dresses they had. “it’s not easy like I have brothers and was always outside doing stuff not knowing what girls…like and do” he had his sister but he was about ten years older then her so he wasn’t at the age that really cared what she liked when she was younger.

Harrison knew he was at the age he could have full on adult as hid kid and teenager. but the fact he hadn’t had any of his own wasn’t what he planned but it was how life worked out. But he was happy to raise his nieces even know it was hard with them being young. “I wouldn’t to much better with a boy or teenager...” for sure since he was pretty clueless on what was cool or not. “They do have dolls and barbies... toy animals” he named a few he knew he saw around the ranch house. “Yes, but really they pretty much have two of their own already....” one being a pony and one being a full sized horse.

"Not to be the bearer of bad news, but… it starts young," he shook his head when Harrison mentioned the girls being too young to dress up, knowing that while it seemed like he had years and years, those moments crept up, regardless of how much you tried to stop it from happening. "But having like a trunk of dress-up clothes might not be a bad idea, either. Could buy a few things each holiday until they have a whole wardrobe of things to wear, makes for a fun night of make believe, you know?" he gestured towards the dresses. "Could even get some other outfits. Doctors, firefighters, cowboy, which might be right up your alley." Honestly, not having a lot of little girls in his life, he might have just been going by why Clem had liked, or what he could imagine Rosalyn being into, but it was at least something.

"You might," he let out a half laugh, lifting one shoulder, "sometimes you don't know what you're capable of handling until you're handling it. That's what my dad always told me," and for the most part, it had rung true throughout his life, and throughout the struggles and good times with Colton, too. "Ah, well… I mean, the real deal is obviously pretty exciting, but. Sometimes it's fun to have the toy sized ones, too. Do they ride, or are they a bit too young for that?" @harrison-ryan

#writing with harrison #harrison 001 #;; sorry 'bout the new threads!#i think you're still using legacy editor so i can't reblog properly

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freindly-neighbourhood-anarchist · 3 years

Text

When You Sleep Together

Dream SMP x Reader

I've got some wholesome moments for you guys because y'all deserve to be loved :) sorry if some of these are cheesy

⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱

💭💚Dream💚💭

Rubbing his eyes sleepily as he stared at the chat of his stream, Clay sighed quietly to himself. He was longing for the sweet embrace of his comfy bed-sheets. As much as he loved his chat, he loved you and his bed more.

Blinking away the sleep, he shook his head to wake himself up. When he stopped himself from falling into his sleep-zombie stupor, he began to speak energetically to the stream once again.

Just as he was about to say something, the sound of his door opening made him stop. When he saw you peeking your head into his room, he muted his mic." Everything okay?" He asked, concern swirling in his deep-green eyes.

Your eyes narrowed a little from the brightness of his monitor," You're... still streaming?" You muttered tiredly, running a hand through your messy hair," It's 4 am... You need to come to bed before you die." You stated bluntly.

Chuckling lightly, Clay smiled at you," That's a bit of an exaggeration, dont ya think?" He grinned out before turning to his monitor," I just need to finish this building first and then I'll come to bed." He reassured.

Pouting at him, you walked over to him in his gaming chair. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders from behind and leaned your head in the crook of his neck. He stiffened up for a second but leaned into your touch, which told you just how tired he really was.

You brought your lips close to his ear," The bed's lonely without you..." You tried your best to sound cute before giving into your sluggish thoughts," and it's lowkey freezing without you next to me. You don't want me to die of hypothermia, right?"

Wheezing a little, he shook his head," Alright, alright. You've convinced me."

"Epic victory royale for me."

"Never say that again."

⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱

🖤🔥Sapnap🔥🖤

Groaning in defeat, you closed your laptop after saving your assignment in frustration. Rubbing your eyes tiredly, you glanced at your phone and turned it on to check the time.

2:30 a.m

"Oh f-" you already knew you were gonna get shit from Nick as soon as you stepped foot into your shared bedroom.

Quickly packing your college material away, you raced upstairs quickly and made a bee-line to your bedroom. You opened the door quietly, smirking slightly when you heard the light snores coming from your boyfriend.

He was hugging a pillow close to himself, wrapped snugly within the comfy blankets. He looked like he was in heaven.

If anything, that only made you more tired.

You tiptoe to the bed and slowly crawled into the bed, trying your best to stop the groan of satisfaction from escaping your lips as soon as the blankets consumed you. You stared at Nick's peaceful face for a second before scooting closer to him for more heat.

The pillow beneath your head was so fluffy and comfortable that you were almost instantly consumed in dream-land, not before Nick stopped you.

"Did your bitchass finally give up on that dumb assignment." He muttered tiredly, replacing the pillow he was cuddling with you.

"I have to finish it tomorrow, dumbass..." You grunted out, your eyebrow slanting downwards slightly.

"Nah, fuck you. You're staying in bed with me tomorrow." He denied your statement instantly, pulling you ever closer.

"You make a good argument, I retract my statement..."

"Good."

⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱

💤💙GeorgeNotFound💙💤

"Fuck yea-" You stopped your celebrating quickly as soon as you remembered that your boyfriend was literally sleeping behind you.

You had been editing a video all night, and despite his begging and whining, you just wouldnt go to bed with George. So he decided that he'd stay with you in the living room, refusing to go to bed without you.

You had protested against that, claiming that he needed his beauty sleep, which he had taken great offense to. So he sat behind you, wrapping his arms around you and placing his head in the crook of your neck, whining that he wasnt going to move until you came to bed with him.

You took this as a challenge," Aight bet." And continued to edit whilst your boyfriend was hugging you from behind.

About 10 minutes into editing, you heard George's familiar snores. You knew that he'd fall asleep quick anyways, sleeping is sort of his thing.

But now, you'd finally finished your editing and want to actually go to bed. Sighing at this dilemma and obvious karma, you closed your laptop after sending the video to Dream.

You leaned into George's heat, making him stir a little." George..." you whispered to him.

There was a lazy hum in response.

"Let's go to bed..." You muttered to him.

"....You lost that opportunity about 2 hours ago." He replied back stubbornly," It's expired."

"Oh, come on." You groaned out," If I stay in bed with you tomorrow as well, will you let us go to bed?"

He was silent.

"... Deal."

"Great, let's go, let's go."

⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱

🎶💛Wilbur Soot💛🎶

"Alright, bed time. C'mon." Wilbur spoke up suddenly, making you jump from your place at your monitor.

"Wait wha-" You were interrupted as Wilbur wrapped his arms around your waist, squeezing you close to him. Your back pressed into his chest as he got you to stand up from your desk." Will, what are you-?"

"You've been editing all day. I need attention and affection." He muttered, a pout on his lips." So can we got to sleep please?" He sent you a slight grin.

"Will, this'll only take a couple of minutes." You sighed out with furrowed eyebrows.

His grin dropped," You said that an hour ago."

Your eyes widened at his words," I did?"

"You did."

"Shit." You rubbed your eyes, letting out another sigh," Jeez, I'm sorry Will... I'm an asshole." You muttered.

"Hmm.... hmmmmm thinking.... You could come to bed to sleep with me to make up for being an asshole?" He teased.

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully," you're not supposed to agree."

Laughing slightly, he wrapped his arms around you tighter," in all seriousness.... As sleepdeprived as I am, I don't want you following in my footsteps. So can we go to bed, please? I really need you in my arms right now."

You were taken aback by his confession but you could only give into his charms after he sent you a soft-eyed smile." Oh, alright."

"Thank fuck. Jesus, please never make me wait as long as you did tonight again."

"Noted."

⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱

⭐👑Eret👑⭐

"Can we go to bed now?" You whined as Eret finally finished streaming." Jeez, it's like you love your chat more than me."

Eret laughed deeply at your words and shook their head," You know that's not trueee~" he sang out cutely." You have my heart, [Y/N], don't worry."

You couldn't stop the stop the soft smile from replacing your pout, your eyes softening at her." Aww.... Ali, you're so sweet to me... and you're super cheesy." You awed out, finding their response to be genuinely adorable.

" Ali? Sheesh, and you call me cheesy. Look in the mirror, love." He teased, finally turning his monitor off and making their way over to you. She towered over you, you've always compared them to a big friendly giant who loves to cuddle.

Sending her a teasing grin and a suggestive eyebrow raise, you spread your arms open for him to hug you," Bed time?"

They grinned slightly and wrapped their arms around you securely, squeezing you tightly against his chest in a loving hug." Bed time..."

"Finally."

"Were you really waiting that long?" She teased, getting your messy head of [H/C] hair." Aww, if I had known that, I would've ended earlier."

You hit him playfully," You suck, loser."

"Love you too, dear."

⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱

(This one's a bit long lol.)

👑🐷Technoblade🐷👑

You let out a another yawn as you shivered lightly in the cold of the snowy area you and Techno lived in.

Your boyfriend had gone to the nether a couple of hours ago to collect wither skulls for 'decoration' but you already knew what he was scheming inside that chaotic head of his.

You've been waiting for about 5 hours in the freezing cold. Of course you've made yourself useful around the house, tending to the farm and gathering more materials overall.

Tommy helped here and there, but he was mostly gathering materials for himself.

Now you were beginning to worry for your boyfriend, he's been gone for so long.

So you decided to sit at the doorstep, a blanket wrapped around yourself and a hot cup of cocoa, refusing to fall asleep until you found out that Techno was okay.

Tommy had sat with you for an hour or so before he retired to his bed, stating," Techno's being a bitch. Not worth the time waiting for him." And then he left.

You had laughed at the teen's grumpiness towards Techno, but you didnt agree with him.

Techno was worth waiting for.

He always will be.

Taking another sip from your cocoa, you leaned your head against the door, blinking so that you're eyes wouldnt close due to fatigue and tiredness.

The steaming hot cocoa in your hands reminded you of the warm bed you share with Techno. How the fire would crackle and the smell of burning wood and berries filled the home. The blankets were huge and warm and would just consume you and Techno. How he stays up at night to read some history book and tell you about greek mythology.

"Fuck I miss him..." You muttered, your teeth chattering whic prompted you to wrap your blankets closer around you.

"Miss who?"

You jumped at the familiar voice, making you drop your hot cocoa. You looked up at the owner and your lip twitched a little," You're an asshole."

Techno raised an eyebrow down at you, taking off his pig mask to talk to you properly." HEH? What have I done??" He mumbled, silently outraged.

"Do you know how long I've been waiting here?? 5 hours, Techno!! I'm surprised I havent gotten hypothermia yet!" You exclaimed, standing from your spot on the doorstep," You even made me spill my cocoa!!"

Pouting like a child, your boyfriend narrowed his red eyes at you," How is the fact you spilled your cocoa my fault?"

You gave him a,' bitch, really?' Look and it made him reconsider his words.

"Oh wait a minute, I guess that is kinda my fault, huh? Ehhhh, its fiiiiine." He waved a hand dismissively and walked passed you to get into the house, throwing his red Cape off and then placing his items into a chest." So... you missed me, eh? I mean... I would too if I were you but... y'know."

You knew he was fishing for affection or gratitude, but you knew better than that. You were still angry at him.

"Wow, quite the ego on you." You rolled your eyes," and who said it was you that I was missing?"

Techno didnt look at you, he continued placing his items in his chest," Well.... who else would you miss?" He questioned carefully.

"Phil."

He turned to you, staring before shrugging," Yeah, that's pretty valid. I miss him too."

You groaned at his stubborn nature and sat down in a chair, rubbing your temples," You're such a pain." You muttered.

Techno froze at your words, finally sensing your distress. When he had finished putting his items away, he turned to your brooding form, a light frown upon his face. He walked over to you and gulped, his eyebrows furrowing with frustration. He really really wasnt one for comforting others, hes always found it hard to do so. That's what social anxiety does to you.

He placed a hand on your head, petting it lightly and awkwardly." Look.... I'm sorry."

You froze at his words and slowly looked up at him, an expectant look upon your face.

Techno took his hand from your head, prompting to cross his arms instead," I know that you were worried, I shouldve taken that into consideration. But ya need to understand that I'm strong, [Y/N]. You dont need to worry for my safety at all, I can handle myself."

You frowned a little before sighing," You know I worry because I love you." You stated simply, looking down at your shoes.

The male's cheeks heated up a little and he nodded," 'course..." he grumbled bashfully.

Lips twitching into a slight smile, you stood from your chair and grabbed both of his hands gently, intertwining his fingers with yours." Well... I'm glad you're safe... I missed you a lot."

Techno's face only reddened even further as he completely avoided eye contact with you, his palms growing sweaty but refusing to let go of your smaller and softer hands." U-uh... wanna know another reason why you shouldnt worry about me dyin'?" He's trying his best to hide the fact he was embarrassed.

You grinned slightly and leaned a little closer to him," Yeah. Tell me."

He looked deeply into your eyes, his face still flushed. He leaned a little closer to your face, his ruby-red eyes swirling with an emotion you couldnt quite put your finger on.

Your eyes flicker down to his lips as he began to speak, his hot breath hitting your own lips.

"Because Technoblade never dies."

You pulled yourself from him instantly," You just ruined the romantic moment. AGAIN." You stated simply.

He huffed out a laugh at your exclaim," Aww c'mon it was funny! Please tell me I'm funny--"

"You're not funny. I'm going to bed, bye." You then walked away from him, Techno trailed behind you with a shit-eating grin on his lips.

"You know I still have 3 canon lives left as well, right?"

"I am now choosing to no longer understand english." You replied simply.

"Ok, nerd."

⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱

🐏🖤Jschlatt🖤🐏

"The fuck are you up so late for." It was more of a statement than a question.

You looked up at your floating boyfriend in all of his blue sweater and ram-horned glory." You're up late too, dumbass." You shot back, downing another cup of coffee.

"[Y/N]... I'm a fuckin' ghost. You think I need sleep? Use your head woman." He insulted as he floated behind you, peeking over your shoulder to see what you were up too.

You seemed to be writing something in a book, he couldnt really read it though so he leaned onto your back, leaning his chin on your shoulder. His eyes skimmed over the words and he scowled a little.

"What the hell are you s'posed to be writing." He grumbled out.

"It's just a book for the different materials Alex told me to gather." You stated simply, leaning your head against his slightly.

"Good idea. Knowin' you, your dumbass would probably forget." He hummed out," But why waste your time on this when you could be sleeping."

Frowning with furrowed eyebrows, you continued to write in the book," I mean... its Alex. I dont wanna let the guy down, he's the vice president."

"Eh... Whose Alex again? He the one with the flatty patty?"

You buried your face in your hands, holding in a laugh." You're an idiot..." You muttered out, trying to contain your laughter.

"Takes one to know one asshole." Schlatt responded, floating away from you and to your bed. He lay on top of it comfortably," OoOoOoh~ look at how comfortable this fuckin' bed looks [Y/N]~ mm yes, comfy comfy, yes very comfy."

Smiling a little, you turned to him and raised an eyebrow," You sure its comfy?"

He was silent for a moment before he nodded," trust me. You know what they call me?"

You rolled your eyes, sighing slightly,"... what do they call you..."

"The bed master."

"You fucking-" You're sentence cut off as you broke out into a laugh. Schlatt couldnt stop the slight smile from crossing over his lips at successfully cheering you up.

"This is a very comfy bed. You should try it out with me, right now." It was more of a threat than a suggestion.

"How can I trust you though?..."

"Maybe if you try the bed out for yourself you can decide whether it's comfy or not, fuckin' moron."

You stared at him with a deadpan expression before giving in," you make a valid point. You win this argument." Standing from the table, you walked over to your bed and flopped onto it next to Schlatt.

He stared down at you expectantly;" Well? Was I right or was I right?"

You moved around on the bed a little, and sighed," .....It feels like I'm lying on a fucking cloud...." you gave up.

Schlatt shot you a shit-eating grin," Right?? The bed master strikes once again." Then his smile dropped," Dont ever fuckin' question me again."

"Gotcha."

He turned a little in the bed and threw an arm over you, pulling you close to him. You stared up at him with a confused gaze, which made him roll his eyes." Gonna help you sleep." He grunted out.

"Ahhh... Okay." You snuggled a little closer to him." Thank you for existing, Schlatt."

"At least one of us are happy I exist." He deadpanned.

"Hey Schlatt? Did you fall from heaven, cause you look like you fell- wait I messed that up."you silently cursed to yourself.

"You fucking loser."

"Lemme try again... Did you fall from heaven? Cause you look like an angel."

"... That makes no fucking sense. Are you comparing me to Satan then? He was the angel that fell from heaven." He looked slightly offended." I'll have you know that I am a devoted Catholic-"

You deadpanned when he wouldnt accept the pick-up line and gave up,"... You're hot." you stated bluntly.

"I know. Goodnight."

⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱

❤🦆Quackity🦆❤

"Fuuuuck... I'm so fucking tired chat." Alex laughed out slightly, trying his best to contain another yawn. His chat instantly began to complain to him, telling him to hurry up and end the stream then. " aww... you all care so much for me." He fake cried." I dont deserve you guys."

MikeHawk: GO TO BED YOU SMALL MAN

Likywastaken: GO SLEEP ASSHOLE

He snorted at the comment," Wow, are y'all hitting on me orrr? Hit me up." He joked teasingly, a slight grin upon his lips.

The familiar sound of,' Me perdonas' came through his headset, indicating he had received a donation.

Duh_Itz_y/n has donated $4.20

Go the fuck to bed you bitch <3

His eyes lit up at your familiar twitch name and he chuckled lightly." Y/N, my love, you have such a way with words." He stated sarcastically, ignoring how his chat started spamming your name." Thanks for the dono but you literally can just call me on discord, fucking idiot."

And just like that, his discord went off, it made him jump in his gaming chair. He covered it up with a cough and answered the call," Hola hermosa."

"Did you just fucking jump when I called you?"

He sputtered," The fuck??? No. You're tripping."

"YOU DID. You're such a pussy boy."

"Yes, I am a pussy boy because I attract all the puss-"

"Stop talking." You interrupted," Why arent you asleep Alex? I don't know if you knew this buuut, 2 am is usually the time when people should be sleeping." You stated, snarky and teasing.

"If you wanted to get me alone you shouldve just said so, babe." He stated simply, you could hear the shit-eating grin in his voice.

He heard you laugh from the other side, making his heart flutter in his chest." I wish I was there but Mexico is like hours away." You muttered.

"Why are you awake? You've been going off to me but it's late where you are too."

"It's cause I was watching your shitass stream. I'm such a dedicated girlfriend, arent I? I just love you so much." You laughed out.

"Aww, you're such a simp for me..." Alex pressed a hand to his cheek embarrassingly, mocking that he was flustered." Should I just end the stream now then. I wanna talk to you now."

"Now you're the one wanting to get me alone Hmm?"

"Yeah, at least I can admit it. Looks like you're the pussy here." He spat your words right back at you.

"End the stream."

"Yes ma'am."

"Pfft, and you say you arent a fucking bottom." You teased.

"Y/N, I am still strEAMING-"

#dream smp x you #jschlatt x reader #dream smp x reader #quackity x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x reader #eret x reader #dream x reader #sapnap x reader #georgenotfound x reader #technoblade x reader #mcyt x reader

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

The Daughter Of Superman, The Adopted Son Of Batman...What Could Go Wrong? PT. 1

Jason Todd x Kryptonian!Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3.8K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: I totally forgot about this one! If you like how cute and fluffy it is, just wait for PT. 2! It gets angsty >:) -Thorne

**********************************************************************

They were pretty lazy teenagers when they weren’t busy saving the world with super speed, strength, and smarts. Even if their textbooks were spread all over his bed they were still too lazy to actually do their homework, instead scrolling through social media apps and trolling all the citizens of San Francisco about the identities of the Young Justice Team.

She glanced up from the advanced calculus textbook and stared at the boy laying across her thighs. “Tim, isn’t your dad hosting a gala this weekend?” he hummed in response, and she asked, “Are we allowed to come?”

He didn’t bother looking up from the tablet he was tapping at and nodded. “Yeah. Bruce already added your names to the list, (Y/N).” a flicker of a smile came over his lips and he added, “Of course I had to wear him down in order to get Bart on the list.”

She looked over at their speedster and grinned. “I’m kinda surprised Bruce actually let you on the list Bart.”

A shocked expression etched across his face and he questioned, “Why do you say that?”

(Y/N) shifted Tim’s head, smiling as he grunted from being moved, and rose from the bed, walking over to the minifridge. She pulled out a soda before jumping back on the bed. “Because between you, Tim, Conner, and me, you’re the one who gets us into the most trouble.” She shifted Tim’s head back into her lap, petting his hair until he smiled.

“I do not!”

“Oh really? Do you remember prom night? It’s been almost two years and they stillcall us and talk about the absolute mess we—well, you caused.”

“That cake wasn’t there when I started running, I swear!” he pointed at Tim. “Tim it wasn’t! You know that!”

The others cackled at his protest, and (Y/N) glanced at Conner. “You gonna bring M’Gann?”

A faint pink tinged his cheeks, and he shifted his gaze down at his physics textbook. “Uh…maybe.”

(Y/N) leaned forward, poking his cheek. “Your heart’s beating pretty fast, little brother.”

He swatted her hand and glared at her. “Shove off.”

She snorted and glanced at Tim. “What about you, Timbers? You going to go with Stephanie?”

“Steph and I aren’t dating anymore, (Y/N).”

“For now. But you two like each other.” She smiled and singsonged, “She’s your first love~”

“What about you?” Tim scowled. “Who’s your date?”

She grunted at him and laid flat in the bed, Bart’s legs under her back. “Are you kidding me? You know my dad won’t let me get a boyfriend, let alone a date to a gala for a night.”

“You’re nineteen, (Y/N). I think you’re allowed to start dating.”

“And my parents help pay for part of my utilities. Does it look like I’m going to do anything to tip that delicate balance of not having to pay for all that?” she sighed. “Dad’s always been that way when it comes to me.”

“Daddy’s little girl.” Conner grinned.

(Y/N) grunted and reached over, shoving Conner off the bed. “Don’t call me that. I am not a daddy’s girl.”

The others laughed at her and Tim quipped, “Yes, you are. You two go on father-daughter dates every month and take pictures to show everyone.” She glared at him and he smiled, continuing, “Maybe we can find a date for you at the gala.”

“You can try. But mom and dad are going to be there. If dad sees me with a boy, he’s liable to lose his mind.” The others laughed again, and (Y/N) rested her head down on Bart’s lap. “I need a dress, Timmy.”

He glanced over at her and tapped a few buttons before showing her the screen. “How does this look?”

(Y/N) took the tablet from him and looked over it, taking in the image of the navy-blue dress. “I like the color, but this is a Cinderella dress. Give me something not as…poofy.” He nodded and took the tablet back, tapped on it, then handed it back to her. “Hmm…too booby.” The other two boys giggled at her answer and Tim sighed, taking the tablet again.

He handed it back to her once more and she looked at the dress. “Mermaid silhouette…sheer side…strappy back…” She glanced up at Tim and nodded. “Got a pair of shoes to match?” He hummed and she grinned. “Then I’ll take it. Thanks Timbers.” He nodded once more, and she nudged Bart. “Oi Allen.”

“What?”

“Don’t run into the cake at the gala, okay? It’ll probably cost more than you.”

“It was an accident! Stop bringing it up!” The others simply laughed at him.

***At The Kent Farm***

“Mom! Dad! Jon! I’m home!” She shut the door behind her and turned, catching Jon who’d launched himself at her. “Kid you’re getting too big to do that.” He laughed at her and she let him down, ruffling his hair. “Where’s mom and dad?”

“Out back with Krypto.” He tugged on her sweatshirt. “Did you bring me anything from the tower, sissy? Did ya? Did ya?”

(Y/N) snorted and rummaged in her pocket, pulling out one of Tim’s crimson shurikens. “Tim gave this to me to give to you.” She handed it to him but held it when he reached for it, “Do not,” she warned firmly, “cut yourself with this or mom and dad will make you give it back after they finish tearing me a new one for giving it to you.”

“I won’t!” he promised and she watched his eyes light up in wonder when he took it. She ruffled his hair once more before walking towards the backdoor.

She stepped outside and saw her dad throwing a ball with Krypto, her mom watching from the back porch; she walked over and leaned down, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Hey, mom.”

Lois glanced up at her and smiled. “Hey, sweetheart. You’re home early.”

(Y/N) nodded, sitting down beside her. “School let out for the week, and we didn’t have any missions from the Justice League, so I figured I’d spend a few days here instead of cooped up in the tower.”

“I’m glad you decided to come home, hon. It’s always nice when you come back.”

She looked up and saw Clark walking towards her. “Hey, dad.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Hey sweetheart, how were the boys?”

“They’re good. We did our usual thing.”

Clark sat on her other side. “Collapse on Tim’s bed and lay around like lethargic teenagers?”

(Y/N) snorted and shoved his shoulder lightly. “We were productive young adults. We finished over-break assignments and reports. Well…mostly. Still got that thirty page physics paper I have to write but…I’ll let that stew awhile.”

He chuckled. “Anything else happen today?”

“Talked about the gala this weekend.” She paused. “You guys are coming too, right?” They nodded and (Y/N) laid back on the porch, pulling out her phone. “Ugh…I remember how badly the Wi-Fi sucked out here. I don’t have any service at all.” She looked at her mom. “I don’t how a journalist like you manages to live in the middle of nowhere like this and still stay sane.”

Lois snorted and thumped her leg. “It’s called satellite service. Now c’mon, let’s go inside. Dinner should be done by now.” (Y/N) rose from the porch and they all began walking in when the sound and feel of rushing air came over them. She and Clark immediately spun, ready to defend themselves when they saw Conner hovering in the sky.

His eyebrows were drawn in slight concern. “(Y/N)! We need you!”

She nodded, shucking off her sweatshirt and pants, revealing the blue suit underneath. The crimson cape billowed around her and she glanced up at him. “What’s the situation?”

“We’ve got simultaneous bank robberies all over SF. Bart and Tim are already on the first few. I came to get you.”

(Y/N) turned to her parents. “Rain check on dinner guys.” She turned in the direction of San Fransisco, eyes darting wildly as she viewed her teammates positions. After a second, she nodded. “I’ve got em, Bart’s on the east, Tim’s on south. You take north and I’ll take west.”

He nodded and she shot up from the ground. They were almost in San Francisco when her father’s voice reached her. “Be careful, (Y/N).”

She curled her fists when the bank doors came into view and responded, “Always am, dad.”

***

“The dress looks fine, (Y/N).”

She glanced up at Tim who was smiling at her; she let out a sigh, letting go of the side strap she’d been tugging, still semi-uncomfortable with how it fit. “I know it does. But I feel like it’s still a little…grown up for me. I’ve never had a dress this open in the back or the sides since…ever.” The boys laughed and she smiled at Bart and Conner. “I forgot how well you two cleaned up.”

Bart pulled at both sides of the bowtie and winked at her, while Conner merely grunted, “I still hate tuxedos.”

“You’re definitely going to hate the long hours of your wedding then.” They laughed once more, and the car pulled around the venue.

Tim looked at them and grinned. “Show time, lady and gents.” They followed him out of the limo, grinning at the cameras as they walked inside.

Immediately, the view made her eyes go wide and she gaped. “Damn…this place is…really big.”

Tim shrugged nonchalantly, “I dunno, the ballroom in Wayne manor is bigger, but definitely more expensive.”

Bart shook his head. “Tim, my dude…we live on minimum wage not a billionaire’s salary.” (Y/N) and Conner simply nodded, still dumbfounded at the sheer size.

Tim rolled his eyes and looked around. “There’s Bruce and the others.”

She glanced in the direction he was looking and she saw her parents with Bruce. “Looks like mom and dad are busy chatting.” The others nodded and she turned to Tim. “What exactly are we supposed to do at a gala?”

“Have fun?” (Y/N) heaved a sigh and stared at him until he said, “You dance and drink and eat. That’s all you do.” He waved his hands. “Go knock yourselves out.”

They started to fan out when (Y/N) called out to them. “Wait!” They paused, turning back around. “We should go talk to Bruce and tell him thanks for inviting us.” They nodded and followed Tim over to Bruce.

He saw them coming and turned, holding out his hand to her. “Good to see you, (Y/N). You look wonderful this evening.”

Her cheeks warmed at the compliment and she smiled, giving his hand a firm shake. “It’s good to see you too, Mister Wayne, you don’t look too bad yourself. Thank you for inviting us to the gala.” The others shook his hand, and she turned to her parents. “Hey mom, dad.”

Lois walked around her and squealed, “You look so beautiful!”

(Y/N) cleared her throat, feeling her cheeks warm as the others smiled in her direction. “Mom…chill out, you’re embarrassing me.” She merely laughed but stepped back over to Clark’s side and (Y/N) looked around. “Bart have you—and he’s already at the buffet table.” Snickers sounded behind her and she sighed. “I’m going to make sure that the bottomless pit doesn’t devour all your food before your guests can eat, Mister Wayne.”

They watched her walk off and when she got over to the table Bart was standing in front of, she saw him shoving food in his mouth. “Oh my god…Bart, what are you doing?”

He turned to her, and swallowed, a sheepish smile crossing his face. “I haven’t eaten anything today,” he licked his thumb clean. “I’m hungry.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and sighed. “Just try not to eat your fingers, would you?”

He snorted and pointed to an appetizer. “You should try the pigs-in-a-blanket. They’ve got this sauce on top that’s just—.”

A low voice cut him off. “They have pigs-in-a-blanket! What!” They turned to see a young man a couple years older than them reaching over. “The old man’s never had something this plain at a gala.” He popped one in his mouth, then turned to them. “You’re Timberly’s friends, right?”

They nodded and (Y/N) gazed, something about him tugging at her mind. “I know you from somewhere.” She stared into his teal eyes and suddenly she remembered where she knew him from; she’d never forget those teal eyes and how angry they’d been. “You’re Jason Todd, aren’t you? Bruce’s second son.”

He grinned. “That’s me. Have you and I met before? I have to agree with you, because you look really familiar.”

(Y/N) glared at him and crossed her arms, spitting. “We met in the Hall of Fallen Titans three years ago.”

Jason’s eyes briefly widened, before they narrowed in amusement. “You’re the one who threw me out the third story window after I kicked Timber’s ass.” He chuckled. “You don’t have to worry about all that, doll. Timmy and I are good now. You can ask the speedster about it.”

She continued to glower at him until Bart leaned over, propping his chin on her shoulder. “He’s telling the truth, (Y/N). Tim told me a while back that he and Jason are brothers now.”

Jason nodded and she finally stopped glaring at him. “Just so you know Jason, I can still throw people out windows.”

He smiled and held out a hand, watching her place hers in it; he brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, doll.”

Bart poked her side and grinned. “I’m gonna go see Tim and Conner. I’ll leave you two alone.”

He wandered off and (Y/N) pulled her hand back. “So, why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

Jason chuckled. “Oh, I was. I got better. We just made up a story about me getting lost, yadda yadda yadda, I’m not important.” He propped his elbow on the wall above her and grinned. “But what is important, is how pretty you look in your dress.”

(Y/N) cocked a brow. “Is that supposed to flatter me?”

“Is it not?”

“It could be a little better.”

He laughed and she found herself smiling along with him. He nodded towards the balcony. “Wanna get some air?”

She nodded, and they walked out into the night. (Y/N) gazed up at the stars and sighed in wonder. “There’s billions of them out there…I’ve never tried to leave earth and go search for them on my own.”

Jason leaned on the railing and gazed at her. “How come?”

(Y/N) shrugged, leaning against the railing too. “Dad’s full Kryptonian…me and Jon are, to use a less than favorable term, half-breeds.” She paused. “I’m not sure if I would survive like dad does out in space.”

“Won’t know ‘til you try.”

She huffed a laugh and looked at him. “If I’m wrong, I might die.”

“And if you try and you’re right, you won’t be dead.”

She shook her head at him, a smile playing at her lips. “You’ve got answers to everything, don’t you, Jason?”

He grinned at her. “I find that being sharp and witty helps with the crowds, doll.” The music sounded from inside the ballroom, and he stepped back, offering her a hand. “May I have this dance?”

(Y/N) rested her hand in his, feeling him pull her close, his other hand resting on her lower back; it was warm against her open skin and she cleared her throat. “I should warn you, I can’t dance to save my life.”

A cocky smirk crossed his lips and he leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. “I can take the lead, doll…all you have to do is give it to me.”

“Your flirtations need work too.”

Jason chuckled in her ear, making her shiver as he pulled back. “I don’t think they do.”

“Arrogance isn’t attractive, Jason.”

“Mhm.”

“It isn’t.”

“I heard you the first time, doll.” As they swayed to the music, he asked, “So, how’d you and Nerd-bird become friends?”

“We met through Conner.”

“The clone?”

“My brother.”

“Sorry.”

“He introduced the two of us, and we’ve been friends ever since.”

“Only friends? Nothing more?”

It was (Y/N)’s turn to smirk and she looked at him. “Are you asking because you want to know if there’s competition?”

He stopped moving and they stood still, her in his arms. “Just want to know if there’s anyone between me and first place.”

She huffed a laugh. “God, you’re something else.” Her eyes found his and she asked, “Do you want to get out of here?”

Jason nodded and stepped back, holding out his hand. “Where do you want to go?”

(Y/N) smirked and stepped forward, closing the distance he’d created, and wrapped an arm around his waist. His teal eyes widened, and she looked back at the party; no one noticed them, and she turned back to face him, “Up, up, and away.” They flew upwards, and she felt him latch onto her. “Why are you acting like I’m going to drop you, Jason?”

He made a waring noise in his throat. “I have a friend who’s an Amazon, and she is…very fond of throwing and dropping me.”

(Y/N) giggled. “Sounds like we’d get along spectacularly. She likes dropping you…I like throwing you out of windows…”

“That was one time. And you caught me when I was off-guard.”

“Uh huh, sure. You got your ass kicked by a sixteen-year-old and I think you’re just bitter.”

He grumbled at her. “Rub it in, why don’t you, doll.” She laughed and lowered them down; their feet hit the roof and he looked at it. “Wayne Enterprises? Why?”

She shrugged. “Cool tower…nice view.” She took a seat on the ledge, listening to him sit beside her.

He leaned over. “Almost romantic…don’t you think?”

(Y/N) eyed him, seeing a goofy smile on his face; she snorted, shoving him lightly. “You’re cheesy.”

“So I’ve been told.”

She glanced back at the water. “You know if this goes anywhere, my dad and your dad aren’t going to be happy.”

Jason snorted, nonchalantly replying, “Doll, there’s a few things I’m afraid of in life. Superman and Batman…are not those things.”

“Is that arrogance or confidence I hear coming through?”

He shrugged. “Probably a bit of both.”

(Y/N) smiled, then she felt his hand rest on hers, letting him link their fingers; she turned her face to him. “Is this the part where you tell me I’m beautiful and ask to kiss me?”

Jason grinned. “No, this is actually the part where I tell you you’re drop dead gorgeous…can I kiss you?”

She giggled, leaning in, and just before his lips brushed hers, she whispered, “You know I can kick your ass, right?”

He groaned. “Should I mention that strong women really do wonders to me?”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh and brought her free hand up, curling in his shirt. “Shut up and kiss me, Jason.”

“With pleasure.” His lips met hers, and she felt him bring his hand up, cupping her cheek. She pulled back ever-so-slightly, but he chased her, pressing his lips to hers again. He let go of her hand and brought his other hand up. He lowered her down until (Y/N)’s back was flat against the ledge; the chill from the stone made her arch her back off it, and press into his chest.

Jason pulled away slightly and smirked at her. “Cold?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “If you want to keep making out, jokes aren’t going to do the job.” He snorted at her and leaned forward again, intent on kissing her senseless when someone cleared their throat, startling them.

They sat up quick as lightning, turning in the direction of the sound. “I wondered where my daughter had flown off to.”

“Oh my god,” she hissed and covered her face with her hands. “Dad. C’mon…seriously?” Clark stepped onto the ledge and walked towards them.

Jason leaned down, whispering, “Is he going to throw me off the ledge?”

This made her giggle despite trying not to and she shoved him. “Shut up, Jason.”

He grinned at her and rose from his position, standing in front of her father. “Mister Kent.”

“That’s my daughter.”

“Oh, I know it is. I still remember how she threw me out of a building a few years ago. I get teary thinking about it.”

The corner of Clarks mouth rose, but then dipped back down, and (Y/N) stood up. “Dad, I’m nineteen. This whole, ‘daddy’s little girl can’t date’ bit, is getting old.” A hurt look crossed his face and she stepped forward, taking his hand. “To you, I’ll always be your little girl, dad. But sooner or later you’ve gotta come to grips with me dating and having…mature relationships.”

Clark held her gaze, then glanced at Jason who grinned and gave a thumbs up. “Does it have to be one of his kids? I mean if it’s going to be, I like Tim.”

“Ew, gross. Tim’s my best friend.”

“What about Dick?”

“Nice butt, but he and Kori are dating.” She paused and smiled at him. “The only one left is Jason, dad.”

Clark eyed Jason once more, then Jason offered, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m slightly afraid of your daughter.”

He sighed. “Thank you, Jason. I can tell.” Turning to her, he cupped her cheek. “It feels like yesterday I was bringing you home for the first time.”

“Dad…stop…we don’t need sentimentality right now.”

Clark hummed and smiled at her, pressing a kiss to her forehead; he turned to Jason and leveled him with a hard look. “I don’t think I need to warn you about what happens if you make her sad.”

Jason gave him a mock salute. “Chances are I’ll be in ICU after I was thrown out a building.”

“Oh my god. Let that go.”

They laughed, and Clark rose from the rooftop. “I’ll need to get back to the party. Don’t do anything crazy.”

They waved him off and (Y/N) turned to Jason. “Do you want to get something to eat?”

He nodded. “There’s a pizza shop down the block from here.”

“Sounds great.” (Y/N) rose a few feet off the roof when she heard a cough behind her.

She spun around and looked down at Jason. “Doll…I don’t know if you know this…but I can’t fly.”

“Whoops. My bad.” She lowered back onto the rooftop and held out her arm.

He walked into it and wrapped an arm around her waist, then tipped his head to her. “Up, up, and away.”

(Y/N) snorted as she rose. “You’re still cheesy, Jason.”

The grip on her waist tightened as he murmured, “I know.”

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souichioneshots · 3 years

Text

Souichi x Farmer!Reader

Souichi goes to visit one of his oldest farmer friends for some straw. In return, he makes her a voodoo doll and things get a litttlleee steamy

ahaha idk lol

Souichi heavily breathed through his mouth as he continued to walk down the treeless path. The summer sun shining down on him was making him sweat bullets, and having a large leather satchel cling to his body was starting to make him feel sick.

“Why does she have to live so far away…” Souichi mumbled to himself as he wiped the sweat off his forehead.

Passing a couple more rice fields, a large Japanese-style cottage finally came into view. It was surrounded by a couple of mango trees and 2 PVC greenhouses. He could see from the outside that they were once again filled completely with strawberries and tomatoes.

As he approached the house, he realized that all of the cars were gone. He thought for a second that he came all this way for nothing, but then he heard a familiar voice echoing in the distance.

“Kuro! Way to me! Shiro! Lie down! Hairo! Lie down!!” Souichi quickly made his way to the back of the house, where the voice was coming from.

As he pushed past a large bush, he finally saw you. You had been herding a large trip of white-tan goats and your 3 dogs, Kuro, Shiro, and Hairo were also doing their best to keep the goats in place.

“Y/N!” Souichi called out from a distance, getting your attention.

“Hmm? Souichi!!” You turned around and called back, jumping slightly in the air.

Souichi laughed as the goats also turned in his direction and let out a little “meh” sound as a greeting.

“Give me a second. I’ll be done in a bit.”

Souichi watched from under the shade of a tree as you continued to order your dogs to do their job.

You and Souichi had been friends for as long as he could remember. It was actually his grandmother who introduced him to you when he was younger. She used to get straw and other ritualistic material from your family when she practiced magick, and now he was getting stuff from you as well.

Today, he had come for his usual satchel fill of straw, and anything else you would give him as a gift. You loved to give him gifts. From fresh rice, to mangos, and even white strawberries.

Everyone in the town knew your family used magick because there was no way mangos nor white strawberries could grow in the weather conditions this part of Japan had to offer.

“Sorry for the wait!” You held onto your straw hat as you ran up to the boy. “We actually built a new barn last week for the straw. It’s this way.”

Getting up from his spot, Souichi walked with you to a small open barn located on the other side of your house.

“Woah…” Souichi looked up in awe at the massive amount of straw you had stored up this season.

“Pretty impressive, right? It’s the largest haul we’ve had in years. Praise Ninigi.” Turning towards the sun, you bowed once. Souichi quickly turned with you and did the same.

You laughed a bit at his sudden action. You knew that without his grandmother around, he wasn’t sure how to act in these types of situations. So, he mostly just copied you.

Putting your hand out, you gestured for Souichi to give you his satchel.

"Do you need me to tie them up or can I just stuff it in here?" You asked as you walked over to a large pile of loose straw.

"Just like that is fine." Souichi replied.

Picking up a handful of straw, you neatly placed it inside. When it was finally full enough, you closed it up and handed it back to the boy.

Although it was a lot, it still felt surprisingly light. Hopefully, it won't go to waste this time.

Sitting on a large straw stack, you took off your hat. You shook your head side to side as your long hair flowed from inside the hat and down onto the straw you were sitting on. You had been growing your hair out since kindergarten. Never cutting it once. Just the sheer length of it made you look like a goddess yourself. Although it was a big distraction when you worked, you planned on using your ‘virgin uncut hair’ in future rituals. At least, that’s what you told Souichi.

Patting the empty space next to you, you asked Souichi to sit next down.

“Ma actually took away the voodoo doll you made me last time you came over… Think you can you make me a new one…” You said in a sad voice as you looked at the boy.

“Again?” Souichi replied, sighing loudly.

Although your family practiced black magick in order to keep the farming business alive, you were strictly forbidden from practicing curses and other types of voodoo until you turned ○○. In the meanwhile, your mother forced you to tend to the farm and learn how to be a proper worker. That’s why whenever Souichi came over, in exchange for whatever he wanted, he would teach you anything he knew about black magick in secret.

Currently, you were learning how to make straw voodoo dolls.

You didn’t really have anyone in particular that you wanted or needed to curse, but you wanted to be prepared just in case anything happened in the future.

You smiled widely as the raven-haired boy took out a pair of pruning shears and red string from the front pocket of his satchel.

Grabbing a couple handfuls of straw, you placed them on your lap for him to freely use.

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re making it by yourself this time.” He sternly said.

“Eh~? But I’m tired from doing chores all morning…I’ll give ya a kilogram of rice if you make this one for me~” Souichi just shook his head no. He would need a better incentive if you wanted him to do this for you again.

“Hmmm…Aha! I’ll give you a whole box of fresh white strawberries as well!” Souichi smiled as you offered him exactly what he wanted. There was a reason your family sold their strawberries for over 20,000 yen a box. Getting them for free from you was one of the best parts of coming over.

“Fine. But this is the last time. And pay attention this time.” Humming happily, you handed him a handful of straw.

“First, make a circle with your thumb and index finger. Then place enough straw to fill it completely. When you get the right amount, you use some string to… Uhh... Hold this.”

Handing you the bundle of straw, he used the shears to cut a couple pieces of string to use.

“…Hold it up straight up…Yeah, like that. You tie up the top end around here. Next, you repeat this with another section of straw. When you finish that, you slide one section into the middle of the other. Then you just tie it up here, and here. Lastly, you part it in the middle for the leg sections… And then you tie up those ends and…Done!”

You let out a small whine as your mind failed to keep up with Souichi's speedy motions and vague explanation. You wanted to ask him to do it again, this time much slower, but you knew he would just go at the same speed again.

Cutting the extra pieces of straw that stuck out from the ends of the voodoo doll, he made it look presentable.

“So, what do you think? Pretty good, right?” Souichi proudly said as he handed it to you.

“Yeah! I think it might even be better than the one you made me last time!" You replied as you examined the doll in awe. "So, all I need in order to curse someone is their picture?” The straw crunched in your fingers as you opened up the chest section a bit.

“You can also use their hair, and at times when your hatred towards them is at its peak, you can just write down their name on a piece of paper, stuff it in the middle there, and it’ll work.”

You hummed in amusement as the boy once again explained to you the way straw voodoo dolls worked.

“Hair, huh…” You said to yourself in a voice so quiet not even Souichi could hear.

Moving closer to him, you spoke in a loving voice. “I never did thank you for the last doll you made me, did I?” Putting the doll down on the empty space next to you, you moved to place a quick kiss on the boy’s cheek. “Thank you.”

“Ah! Hehe…I-It was no problem… I can make you more anytime you want really…” Souichi turned his face away from you, trying to hide the blush that had grown on his cheeks.

You were always the affectionate type.

“Then, I should probably thank you in advance~” Bringing your hand to his face, you turned him towards you. Souichi’s body burned with embarrassment as you placed multiple kisses on his cheek again.

“You know, you can also thank me for always giving you so much straw~” You teased as you tapped your own cheek, hinting for him to give you a small kiss back.

Closing his eyes, Souichi moved to plant a kiss on your cheek. However, you also moved back to face him as well.

Souichi’s eyes shot open as you pressed your lips against his.

The remaining straw on your legs fell to the ground as you moved to straddle the blushing boy.

You were perhaps a bit too affectionate really.

But Souichi wasn’t complaining.

Souichi’s eyes fluttered closed as he melted into your kiss. Your hands caressed his face as you quickly deepened the kiss.

Souichi playfully bit your bottom lip as you tried to pull back for air, forcing you to return back to him. He liked to experiment with different ways of teasing you every time you spontaneously kissed him like this.

Slowly, your hands ran through his hair, making it messier than it was before.

"Ow!" Souichi pushed you back and yelled in pain as you suddenly pulled his hair.

Moving to sit up, you gloated.

“Haha! Now that I have your hair, you have to follow everything I say or I’ll curse you to death!” You laughed as you help up a single strand of dark hair. You were expecting Souichi to try to get it back from you, but he didn’t.

Looking back at you with an equally victorious smile, he moved his hands in front of you, showing off the contents it held.

“That makes two of us~ Kekekeke~”

Your smile dropped and your eyes widened in shock as you saw the shears in one hand and a large amount of your hair in another.

Bringing your hands up to your head, you felt the difference in hair length on each side.

“How could you…” Tears ran down your cheeks, making Souichi stop his cackling.

“I hate you!!” Pushing yourself off the boy, you got onto your feet and started to run towards your house. “I’m telling Baphomet!!”

The goats in the barn loudly cried as you mentioned the name of the deity your family religiously worshiped.

“Crap! No!! Y/N!!” Jumping off the straw-stack, Souichi threw your hair and the shears onto the ground.

“Wait!! I’m sorry!!” Souichi exclaimed as he chased after you.

Just before he could grab ahold of you, you ran into the house. You were so upset that you didn’t even bother to take off your shoes.

Souichi slipped on the grass as he tried to stop himself from going any further. He knew he couldn’t enter your house without your given permission.

Souichi felt his mind go into a panic as he saw you approach the large altar in your living room.

The goats in the barn cried even louder and banged their horns against the wooden walls as you pointed towards the boy outside your house.

Just before he could run away for safety, your three dogs surrounded him. Souichi let out a high-pitched cry of fear as the dogs barked and growled, forcing him to stay in place.

He made a big mistake messing with the daughter of the Baphomet worshiping family.

#souichi x reader #souichi tsujii x reader #fluff #yall kiss a bit #ehehe

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path-of-my-childhood · 3 years

Text

Musicians On Musicians: Paul McCartney & Taylor Swift

By: Patrick Doyle for Rolling Stone Date: November 13th 2020

On songwriting secrets, making albums at home, and what they’ve learned during the pandemic.

Taylor Swift arrived early to Paul McCartney’s London office in October, “mask on, brimming with excitement.” “I mostly work from home these days,” she writes about that day, “and today feels like a rare school field trip that you actually want to go on.”

Swift showed up without a team, doing her own hair and makeup. In addition to being two of the most famous pop songwriters in the world, Swift and McCartney have spent the past year on similar journeys. McCartney, isolated at home in the U.K., recorded McCartney III. Like his first solo album, in 1970, he played nearly all of the instruments himself, resulting in some of his most wildly ambitious songs in a long time. Swift also took some new chances, writing over email with the National’s Aaron Dessner and recording the raw Folklore, which abandons arena pop entirely in favor of rich character songs. It’s the bestselling album of 2020.

Swift listened to McCartney III as she prepared for today’s conversation; McCartney delved into Folkore. Before the photo shoot, Swift caught up with his daughters Mary (who would be photographing them) and Stella (who designed Swift’s clothes; the two are close friends). “I’ve met Paul a few times, mostly onstage at parties, but we’ll get to that later,” Swift writes. “Soon he walks in with his wife, Nancy. They’re a sunny and playful pair, and I immediately feel like this will be a good day. During the shoot, Paul dances and takes almost none of it too seriously and sings along to Motown songs playing from the speakers. A few times Mary scolds, ‘Daaad, try to stand still!’ And it feels like a window into a pretty awesome family dynamic. We walk into his office for a chat, and after I make a nervous request, Paul is kind enough to handwrite my favorite lyric of his and sign it. He makes a joke about me selling it, and I laugh because it’s something I know I’ll cherish for the rest of my life. That’s around the time when we start talking about music.”

Taylor Swift: I think it’s important to note that if this year had gone the way that we thought it was going to go, you and I would have played Glastonbury this year, and instead, you and I both made albums in isolation.

Paul McCartney: Yeah!

Swift: And I remember thinking it would have been so much fun because the times that I’ve run into you, I correlate with being some of the most fun nights of my life. I was at a party with you, when everybody just started playing music. And it was Dave Grohl playing, and you...

McCartney: You were playing one of his songs, weren’t you?

Swift: Yes, I was playing his song called “Best of You,” but I was playing it on piano, and he didn’t recognize it until about halfway through. I just remember thinking, “Are you the catalyst for the most fun times ever?” Is it your willingness to get up and play music that makes everyone feel like this is a thing that can happen tonight?

McCartney: I mean, I think it’s a bit of everything, isn’t it? I’ll tell you who was very... Reese Witherspoon was like, “Are you going to sing?” I said “Oh, I don’t know.” She said, “You’ve got to, yeah!” She’s bossing me around. So I said, “Whoa,” so it’s a bit of that.

Swift: I love that person, because the party does not turn musical without that person.

McCartney: Yeah, that’s true.

Swift: If nobody says, “Can you guys play music?” we’re not going to invite ourselves up onstage at whatever living-room party it is.

McCartney: I seem to remember Woody Harrelson got on the piano, and he starts playing “Let It Be,” and I’m thinking, “I can do that better.” So I said, “Come on, move over, Woody.” So we’re both playing it. It was really nice... I love people like Dan Aykroyd, who’s just full of energy and he loves his music so much, but he’s not necessarily a musician, but he just wanders around the room, just saying, “You got to get up, got to get up, do some stuff.”

Swift: I listened to your new record. And I loved a lot of things about it, but it really did feel like kind of a flex to write, produce, and play every instrument on every track. To me, that’s like flexing a muscle and saying, “I can do all this on my own if I have to.”

McCartney: Well, I don’t think like that, I must admit. I just picked up some of these instruments over the years. We had a piano at home that my dad played, so I picked around on that. I wrote the melody to “When I’m 64” when I was, you know, a teenager.

Swift: Wow.

McCartney: When the Beatles went to Hamburg, there were always drum kits knocking around, so when there was a quiet moment, I’d say, “Do you mind if I have a knock around?” So I was able to practice, you know, without practicing. That’s why I play right-handed. Guitar was just the first instrument I got. Guitar turned to bass; it also turned into ukulele, mandolin. Suddenly, it’s like, “Wow,” but it’s really only two or three instruments.

Swift: Well, I think that’s downplaying it a little bit. In my mind, it came with a visual of you being in the country, kind of absorbing the sort of do-it-yourself [quality] that has had to come with the quarantine and this pandemic. I found that I’ve adapted a do-it-yourself mentality to a lot of things in my career that I used to outsource. I’m just wondering what a day of recording in the pandemic looked like for you.

McCartney: Well, I’m very lucky because I have a studio that’s, like, 20 minutes away from where I live. We were in lockdown on a farm, a sheep farm with my daughter Mary and her four kids and her husband. So I had four of my grandkids, I had Mary, who’s a great cook, so I would just drive myself to the studio. And there were two other guys that could come in and we’d be very careful and distanced and everything: my engineer Steve, and then my equipment guy Keith. So the three of us made the record, and I just started off. I had to do a little bit of film music - I had to do an instrumental for a film thing - so I did that. And I just kept going, and that turned into the opening track on the album. I would just come in, say, “Oh, yeah, what are we gonna do?” [Then] have some sort of idea, and start doing it. Normally, I’d start with the instrument I wrote it on, either piano or guitar, and then probably add some drums and then a bit of bass till it started to sound like a record, and then just gradually layer it all up. It was fun.

Swift: That’s so cool.

McCartney: What about yours? You’re playing guitar and piano on yours.

Swift: Yeah, on some of it, but a lot of it was made with Aaron Dessner, who’s in a band called the National that I really love. And I had met him at a concert a year before, and I had a conversation with him, asking him how he writes. It’s my favorite thing to ask people who I’m a fan of. And he had an interesting answer. He said, “All the band members live in different parts of the world. So I make tracks. And I send them to our lead singer, Matt, and he writes the top line.” I just remember thinking, “That is really efficient.” And I kind of stored it in my brain as a future idea for a project. You know, how you have these ideas... “Maybe one day I’ll do this.” I always had in my head: “Maybe one day I’ll work with Aaron Dessner.”

So when lockdown happened, I was in L.A., and we kind of got stuck there. It’s not a terrible place to be stuck. We were there for four months maybe, and during that time, I sent an email to Aaron Dessner and I said, “Do you think you would want to work during this time? Because my brain is all scrambled, and I need to make something, even if we’re just kind of making songs that we don’t know what will happen...”

McCartney: Yeah, that was the thing. You could do stuff - you didn’t really worry it was going to turn into anything.

Swift: Yeah, and it turned out he had been writing instrumental tracks to keep from absolutely going crazy during the pandemic as well, so he sends me this file of probably 30 instrumentals, and the first one I opened ended up being a song called “Cardigan,” and it really happened rapid-fire like that. He’d send me a track; he’d make new tracks, add to the folder; I would write the entire top line for a song, and he wouldn’t know what the song would be about, what it was going to be called, where I was going to put the chorus. I had originally thought, “Maybe I’ll make an album in the next year, and put it out in January or something,” but it ended up being done and we put it out in July. And I just thought there are no rules anymore, because I used to put all these parameters on myself, like, “How will this song sound in a stadium? How will this song sound on radio?” If you take away all the parameters, what do you make? And I guess the answer is Folklore.

McCartney: And it’s more music for yourself than music that’s got to go do a job. My thing was similar to that: After having done this little bit of film music, I had a lot of stuff that I had been working on, but I’d said, “I’m just going home now,” and it’d be left half-finished. So I just started saying, “Well, what about that? I never finished that.” So we’d pull it out, and we said, “Oh, well, this could be good.” And because it didn’t have to amount to anything, I would say, “Ah, I really want to do tape loops. I don’t care if they fit on this song, I just want to do some.” So I go and make some tape loops, and put them in the song, just really trying to do stuff that I fancy.

I had no idea it would end up as an album; I may have been a bit less indulgent, but if a track was eight minutes long, to tell you the truth, what I thought was, “I’ll be taking it home tonight, Mary will be cooking, the grandkids will all be there running around, and someone, maybe Simon, Mary’s husband, is going to say, ‘What did you do today?’ And I’m going to go, ‘Oh,’ and then get my phone and play it for them.” So this became the ritual.

Swift: That’s the coziest thing I’ve ever heard.

McCartney: Well, it’s like eight minutes long, and I said, “I hate it when I’m playing someone something and it finishes after three minutes.” I kind of like that it just [continues] on.

Swift: You want to stay in the zone.

McCartney: It just keeps going on. I would just come home, “Well, what did you do today?” “Oh, well, I did this. I’m halfway through this,” or, “We finished this.”

Swift: I was wondering about the numerology element to McCartney III. McCartney I, II, and III have all come out on years with zeroes.

McCartney: Ends of decades.

Swift: Was that important?

McCartney: Yeah, well, this was being done in 2020, and I didn’t really think about it. I think everyone expected great things of 2020. “It’s gonna be great! Look at that number! 2020! Auspicious!” Then suddenly Covid hit, and it was like, “That’s gonna be auspicious all right, but maybe for the wrong reasons.” Someone said to me, “Well, you put out McCartney right after the Beatles broke up, and that was 1970, and then you did McCartney II in 1980.” And I said, “Oh, I’m going to release this in 2020 just for whatever you call it, the numerology...”

Swift: The numerology, the kind of look, the symbolism. I love numbers. Numbers kind of rule my whole world. The numbers 13... 89 is a big one. I have a few others that I find...

McCartney: Thirteen is lucky for some.

Swift: Yeah, it’s lucky for me. It’s my birthday. It’s all these weird coincidences of good things that have happened. Now, when I see it places, I look at it as a sign that things are going the way they’re supposed to. They may not be good now, they could be painful now, but things are on a track. I don’t know, I love the numerology.

McCartney: It’s spooky, Taylor. It’s very spooky. Now wait a minute: Where’d you get 89?

Swift: That’s when I was born, in 1989, and so I see it in different places and I just think it’s...

McCartney: No, it’s good. I like that, where certain things you attach yourself to, and you get a good feeling off them. I think that’s great.

Swift: Yeah, one of my favorite artists, Bon Iver, he has this thing with the number 22. But I was also wondering: You have always kind of seeked out a band or a communal atmosphere with like, you know, the Beatles and Wings, and then Egypt Station. I thought it was interesting when I realized you had made a record with no one else. I just wondered, did that feel natural?

McCartney: It’s one of the things I’ve done. Like with McCartney, because the Beatles had broken up, there was no alternative but to get a drum kit at home, get a guitar, get an amp, get a bass, and just make something for myself. So on that album, which I didn’t really expect to do very well, I don’t think it did. But people sort of say, “I like that. It was a very casual album.” It didn’t really have to mean anything. So I’ve done that, the play-everything-myself thing. And then I discovered synths and stuff, and sequencers, so I had a few of those at home. I just thought I’m going to play around with this and record it, so that became McCartney II. But it’s a thing I do. Certain people can do it. Stevie Wonder can do it. Stevie Winwood, I believe, has done it. So there are certain people quite like that.

When you’re working with someone else, you have to worry about their variances. Whereas your own variance, you kind of know it. It’s just something I’ve grown to like. Once you can do it, it becomes a little bit addictive. I actually made some records under the name the Fireman.

Swift: Love a pseudonym.

McCartney: Yeah, for the fun! But, you know, let’s face it, you crave fame and attention when you’re young. And I just remembered the other day, I was the guy in the Beatles that would write to journalists and say [speaks in a formal voice]: “We are a semiprofessional rock combo, and I’d think you’d like [us]... We’ve written over 100 songs (which was a lie), my friend John and I. If you mention us in your newspaper...” You know, I was always, like, craving the attention.

Swift: The hustle! That’s so great, though.

McCartney: Well, yeah, you need that.

Swift: Yeah, I think, when a pseudonym comes in is when you still have a love for making the work and you don’t want the work to become overshadowed by this thing that’s been built around you, based on what people know about you. And that’s when it’s really fun to create fake names and write under them.

McCartney: Do you ever do that?

Swift: Oh, yeah.

McCartney: Oh, yeah? Oh, well, we didn’t know that! Is that a widely known fact?

Swift: I think it is now, but it wasn’t. I wrote under the name Nils Sjöberg because those are two of the most popular names of Swedish males. I wrote this song called “This Is What You Came For” that Rihanna ended up singing. And nobody knew for a while. I remembered always hearing that when Prince wrote “Manic Monday,” they didn’t reveal it for a couple of months.

McCartney: Yeah, it also proves you can do something without the fame tag. I did something for Peter and Gordon; my girlfriend’s brother and his mate were in a band called Peter and Gordon. And I used to write under the name Bernard Webb.

Swift: [Laughs.] That’s a good one! I love it.

McCartney: As Americans call it, Ber-nard Webb. I did the Fireman thing. I worked with a producer, a guy called Youth, who’s this real cool dude. We got along great. He did a mix for me early on, and we got friendly. I would just go into the studio, and he would say, “Hey, what about this groove?” and he’d just made me have a little groove going. He’d say, “You ought to put some bass on it. Put some drums on it.” I’d just spend the whole day putting stuff on it. And we’d make these tracks, and nobody knew who Fireman was for a while. We must have sold all of 15 copies.

Swift: Thrilling, absolutely thrilling.

McCartney: And we didn’t mind, you know?

Swift: I think it’s so cool that you do projects that are just for you. Because I went with my family to see you in concert in 2010 or 2011, and the thing I took away from the show most was that it was the most selfless set list I had ever seen. It was completely geared toward what it would thrill us to hear. It had new stuff, but it had every hit we wanted to hear, every song we’d ever cried to, every song people had gotten married to, or been brokenhearted to. And I just remembered thinking, “I’ve got to remember that,” that you do that set list for your fans.

McCartney: You do that, do you?

Swift: I do now. I think that learning that lesson from you taught me at a really important stage in my career that if people want to hear “Love Story” and “Shake It Off,” and I’ve played them 300 million times, play them the 300-millionth-and-first time. I think there are times to be selfish in your career, and times to be selfless, and sometimes they line up.

McCartney: I always remembered going to concerts as a kid, completely before the Beatles, and I really hoped they would play the ones I loved. And if they didn’t, it was kind of disappointing. I had no money, and the family wasn’t wealthy. So this would be a big deal for me, to save up for months to afford the concert ticket.

Swift: Yeah, it feels like a bond. It feels like that person on the stage has given something, and it makes you as a crowd want to give even more back, in terms of applause, in terms of dedication. And I just remembered feeling that bond in the crowd, and thinking, “He’s up there playing these Beatles songs, my dad is crying, my mom is trying to figure out how to work her phone because her hands are shaking so much.” Because seeing the excitement course through not only me, but my family and the entire crowd in Nashville, it just was really special. I love learning lessons and not having to learn them the hard way. Like learning nice lessons I really value.

McCartney: Well, that’s great, and I’m glad that set you on that path. I understand people who don’t want to do that, and if you do, they’ll say, “Oh, it’s a jukebox show.” I hear what they’re saying. But I think it’s a bit of a cheat, because the people who come to our shows have spent a lot of money. We can afford to go to a couple of shows and it doesn’t make much difference. But a lot of ordinary working folks... it’s a big event in their life, and so I try and deliver. I also, like you say, try and put in a few weirdos.

Swift: That’s the best. I want to hear current things, too, to update me on where the artist is. I was wondering about lyrics, and where you were lyrically when you were making this record. Because when I was making Folklore, I went lyrically in a total direction of escapism and romanticism. And I wrote songs imagining I was, like, a pioneer woman in a forbidden love affair [laughs]. I was completely...

McCartney: Was this “I want to give you a child”? Is that one of the lines?

Swift: Oh, that’s a song called “Peace.”

McCartney: “Peace,” I like that one.

Swift: “Peace” is actually more rooted in my personal life. I know you have done a really excellent job of this in your personal life: carving out a human life within a public life, and how scary that can be when you do fall in love and you meet someone, especially if you’ve met someone who has a very grounded, normal way of living. I, oftentimes, in my anxieties, can control how I am as a person and how normal I act and rationalize things, but I cannot control if there are 20 photographers outside in the bushes and what they do and if they follow our car and if they interrupt our lives. I can’t control if there’s going to be a fake weird headline about us in the news tomorrow.

McCartney: So how does that go? Does your partner sympathize with that and understand?

Swift: Oh, absolutely.

McCartney: They have to, don’t they?

Swift: But I think that in knowing him and being in the relationship I am in now, I have definitely made decisions that have made my life feel more like a real life and less like just a storyline to be commented on in tabloids. Whether that’s deciding where to live, who to hang out with, when to not take a picture - the idea of privacy feels so strange to try to explain, but it’s really just trying to find bits of normalcy. That’s what that song “Peace” is talking about. Like, would it be enough if I could never fully achieve the normalcy that we both crave? Stella always tells me that she had as normal a childhood as she could ever hope for under the circumstances.

McCartney: Yeah, it was very important to us to try and keep their feet on the ground amongst the craziness.

Swift: She went to a regular school...

McCartney: Yeah, she did.

Swift: And you would go trick-or-treating with them, wearing masks.

McCartney: All of them did, yeah. It was important, but it worked pretty well, because when they kind of reached adulthood, they would meet other kids who might have gone to private schools, who were a little less grounded.

And they could be the budding mothers to [kids]. I remember Mary had a friend, Orlando. Not Bloom. She used to really counsel him. And it’s ’cause she’d gone through that. Obviously, they got made fun of, my kids. They’d come in the classroom and somebody would sing, “Na na na na,” you know, one of the songs. And they’d have to handle that. They’d have to front it out.

Swift: Did that give you a lot of anxiety when you had kids, when you felt like all this pressure that’s been put on me is spilling over onto them, that they didn’t sign up for it? Was that hard for you?

McCartney: Yeah, a little bit, but it wasn’t like it is now. You know, we were just living a kind of semi-hippie life, where we withdrew from a lot of stuff. The kids would be doing all the ordinary things, and their school friends would be coming up to the house and having parties, and it was just great. I remember one lovely evening when it was Stella’s birthday, and she brought a bunch of school kids up. And, you know, they’d all ignore me. It happens very quickly. At first they’re like, “Oh, yeah, he’s like a famous guy,” and then it’s like [yawns]. I like that. I go in the other room and suddenly I hear this music going on. And one of the kids, his name was Luke, and he’s doing break dancing.

Swift: Ohhh!

McCartney: He was a really good break dancer, so all the kids are hanging out. That allowed them to be kind of normal with those kids. The other thing is, I don’t live fancy. I really don’t. Sometimes it’s a little bit of an embarrassment, if I’ve got someone coming to visit me, or who I know…

Swift: Cares about that stuff?

McCartney: Who’s got a nice big house, you know. Quincy Jones came to see me and I’m, like, making him a veggie burger or something. I’m doing some cooking. This was after I’d lost Linda, in between there. But the point I’m making is that I’m very consciously thinking, “Oh, God, Quincy’s got to be thinking, ‘What is this guy on? He hasn’t got big things going on. It’s not a fancy house at all. And we’re eating in the kitchen! He’s not even got the dining room going,’” you know?

Swift: I think that sounds like a perfect day.

McCartney: But that’s me. I’m awkward like that. That’s my kind of thing. Maybe I should have, like, a big stately home. Maybe I should get a staff. But I think I couldn’t do that. I’d be so embarrassed. I’d want to walk around dressed as I want to walk around, or naked, if I wanted to.

Swift: That can’t happen in Downton Abbey.

McCartney: [Laughs.] Exactly.

Swift: I remember what I wanted to know about, which is lyrics. Like, when you’re in this kind of strange, unparalleled time, and you’re making this record, are lyrics first? Or is it when you get a little melodic idea?

McCartney: It was a bit of both. As it kind of always is with me. There’s no fixed way. People used to ask me and John, “Well, who does the words, who does the music?” I used to say, “We both do both.” We used to say we don’t have a formula, and we don’t want one. Because the minute we get a formula, we should rip it up. I will sometimes, as I did with a couple of songs on this album, sit down at the piano and just start noodling around, and I’ll get a little idea and start to fill that out. So the lyrics - for me, it’s following a trail. I’ll start [sings “Find My Way,” a song from “McCartney III”]: “I can find my way. I know my left from right, da da da.” And I’ll just sort of fill it in. Like, we know this song, and I’m trying to remember the lyrics. Sometimes I’ll just be inspired by something. I had a little book which was all about the constellations and the stars and the orbits of Venus and...

Swift: Oh, I know that song - “The Kiss of Venus”?

McCartney: Yeah, “The Kiss of Venus.” And I just thought, “That’s a nice phrase.” So I was actually just taking phrases out of the book, harmonic sounds. And the book is talking about the maths of the universe, and how when things orbit around each other, and if you trace all the patterns, it becomes like a lotus flower.

Swift: Wow.

McCartney: It’s very magical.

Swift: That is magical. I definitely relate to needing to find magical things in this very not-magical time, needing to read more books and learn to sew, and watch movies that take place hundreds of years ago. In a time where, if you look at the news, you just want to have a panic attack - I really relate to the idea that you are thinking about stars and constellations.

McCartney: Did you do that on Folklore?

Swift: Yes. I was reading so much more than I ever did, and watching so many more films.

McCartney: What stuff were you reading?

Swift: I was reading, you know, books like Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier, which I highly recommend, and books that dealt with times past, a world that doesn’t exist anymore. I was also using words I always wanted to use - kind of bigger, flowerier, prettier words, like “epiphany,” in songs. I always thought, “Well, that’ll never track on pop radio,” but when I was making this record, I thought, “What tracks? Nothing makes sense anymore. If there’s chaos everywhere, why don’t I just use the damn word I want to use in the song?”

McCartney: Exactly. So you’d see the word in a book and think, “I love that word”?

Swift: Yeah, I have favorite words, like “elegies” and “epiphany” and “divorcée,” and just words that I think sound beautiful, and I have lists and lists of them.

McCartney: How about “marzipan”?

Swift: Love “marzipan.”

McCartney: The other day, I was remembering when we wrote “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds”: “kaleidoscope.”

Swift: “Kaleidoscope” is one of mine! I have a song on 1989, a song called “Welcome to New York,” that I put the word “kaleidoscope” in just because I’m obsessed with the word.

McCartney: I think a love of words is a great thing, particularly if you’re going to try to write a lyric, and for me, it’s like, “What is this going to say to that person?” I often feel like I’m writing to someone who is not doing so well. So I’m trying to write songs that might help. Not in a goody-goody, crusading kind of way, but just thinking there have been so many times in my life when I’ve heard a song and felt so much better. I think that’s the angle I want, that inspirational thing.

I remember once, a friend of mine from Liverpool, we were teenagers and we were going to a fairground. He was a schoolmate, and we had these jackets that had a little fleck in the material, which was the cool thing at the time.

Swift: We should have done matching jackets for this photo shoot.

McCartney: Find me a fleck, I’m in. But we went to the fair, and I just remember - this is what happens with songs - there was this girl at the fair. This is just a little Liverpool fair - it was in a place called Sefton Park - and there was this girl, who was so beautiful. She wasn’t a star. She was so beautiful. Everyone was following her, and it’s like, “Wow.” It’s like a magical scene, you know? But all this gave me a headache, so I ended up going back to his house - I didn’t normally get headaches. And we thought, “What can we do?” So we put on the Elvis song “All Shook Up.” By the end of that song, my headache had gone. I thought, you know, “That’s powerful.”

Swift: That really is powerful.

McCartney: I love that, when people stop me in the street and say, “Oh, I was going through an illness and I listened to a lot of your stuff, and I’m better now and it got me through,” or kids will say, “It got me through exams.” You know, they’re studying, they’re going crazy, but they put your music on. I’m sure it happens with a lot of your fans. It inspires them, you know?

Swift: Yeah, I definitely think about that as a goal. There’s so much stress everywhere you turn that I kind of wanted to make an album that felt sort of like a hug, or like your favorite sweater that makes you feel like you want to put it on.

McCartney: What, a “cardigan”?

Swift: Like a good cardigan, a good, worn-in cardigan. Or something that makes you reminisce on your childhood. I think sadness can be cozy. It can obviously be traumatic and stressful, too, but I kind of was trying to lean into sadness that feels like somehow enveloping in not such a scary way - like nostalgia and whimsy incorporated into a feeling like you’re not all right. Because I don’t think anybody was really feeling like they were in their prime this year. Isolation can mean escaping into your imagination in a way that’s kind of nice.

McCartney: I think a lot of people have found that. I would say to people, “I feel a bit guilty about saying I’m actually enjoying this quarantine thing,” and people go, “Yeah, I know, don’t say it to anyone.” A lot of people are really suffering.

Swift: Because there’s a lot in life that’s arbitrary. Completely and totally arbitrary. And [the quarantine] is really shining a light on that, and also a lot of things we have that we outsource that you can actually do yourself.

McCartney: I love that. This is why I said I live simply. That’s, like, at the core of it. With so many things, something goes wrong and you go, “Oh, I’ll get somebody to fix that.” And then it’s like, “No, let me have a look at it...”

Swift: Get a hammer and a nail.

McCartney: “Maybe I can put that picture up.” It’s not rocket science. The period after the Beatles, when we went to live in Scotland on a really - talk about dumpy - little farm. I mean, I see pictures of it now and I’m not ashamed, but I’m almost ashamed. Because it’s like, “God, nobody’s cleaned up around here.”

But it was really a relief. Because when I was with the Beatles, we’d formed Apple Records, and if I wanted a Christmas tree, someone would just buy it. And I thought, after a while, “No, you know what? I really would like to go and buy our Christmas tree. Because that’s what everyone does.” So you go down - “I’ll have that one” - and you carried it back. I mean, it’s little, but it’s huge at the same time.

I needed a table in Scotland and I was looking through a catalog and I thought, “I could make one. I did woodwork in school, so I know what a dovetail joint is.” So I just figured it out. I’m just sitting in the kitchen, and I’m whittling away at this wood and I made this little joint. There was no nail technology - it was glue. And I was scared to put it together. I said, “It’s not going to fit,” but one day, I got my woodwork glue and thought, “There’s no going back.” But it turned out to be a real nice little table I was very proud of. It was that sense of achievement.

The weird thing was, Stella went up to Scotland recently and I said, “Isn’t it there?” and she said, “No.” Anyway, I searched for it. Nobody remembered it. Somebody said, “Well, there’s a pile of wood in the corner of one of the barns, maybe that’s it. Maybe they used it for firewood.” I said, “No, it’s not firewood.” Anyway, we found it, and do you know how joyous that was for me? I was like, “You found my table?!” Somebody might say that’s a bit boring.

Swift: No, it’s cool!

McCartney: But it was a real sort of great thing for me to be able to do stuff for yourself. You were talking about sewing. I mean normally, in your position, you’ve got any amount of tailors.

Swift: Well, there’s been a bit of a baby boom recently; several of my friends have gotten pregnant.

McCartney: Oh, yeah, you’re at the age.

Swift: And I was just thinking, “I really want to spend time with my hands, making something for their children.” So I made this really cool flying-squirrel stuffed animal that I sent to one of my friends. I sent a teddy bear to another one, and I started making these little silk baby blankets with embroidery. It’s gotten pretty fancy. And I’ve been painting a lot.

McCartney: What do you paint? Watercolors?

Swift: Acrylic or oil. Whenever I do watercolor, all I paint is flowers. When I have oil, I really like to do landscapes. I always kind of return to painting a lonely little cottage on a hill.

McCartney: It’s a bit of a romantic dream. I agree with you, though, I think you’ve got to have dreams, particularly this year. You’ve got to have something to escape to. When you say “escapism,” it sounds like a dirty word, but this year, it definitely wasn’t. And in the books you’re reading, you’ve gone into that world. That’s, I think, a great thing. Then you come back out. I normally will read a lot before I go to bed. So I’ll come back out, then I’ll go to sleep, so I think it really is nice to have those dreams that can be fantasies or stuff you want to achieve.

Swift: You’re creating characters. This was the first album where I ever created characters, or wrote about the life of a real-life person. There’s a song called “The Last Great American Dynasty” that’s about this real-life heiress who lived just an absolutely chaotic, hectic...

McCartney: She’s a fantasy character?

Swift: She’s a real person. Who lived in the house that I live in.

McCartney: She’s a real person? I listened to that and I thought, “Who is this?”

Swift: Her name was Rebekah Harkness. And she lived in the house that I ended up buying in Rhode Island. That’s how I learned about her. But she was a woman who was very, very talked about, and everything she did was scandalous. I found a connection in that. But I also was thinking about how you write “Eleanor Rigby” and go into that whole story about what all these people in this town are doing and how their lives intersect, and I hadn’t really done that in a very long time with my music. It had always been so microscope personal.

McCartney: Yeah, ’cause you were writing breakup songs like they were going out of style.

Swift: I was, before my luck changed [laughs]. I still write breakup songs. I love a good breakup song. Because somewhere in the world, I always have a friend going through a breakup, and that will make me write one.

McCartney: Yeah, this goes back to this thing of me and John: When you’ve got a formula, break it. I don’t have a formula. It’s the mood I’m in. So I love the idea of writing a character. And, you know, trying to think, “What am I basing this on?” So “Eleanor Rigby” was based on old ladies I knew as a kid. For some reason or other, I got great relationships with a couple of local old ladies. I was thinking the other day, I don’t know how I met them, it wasn’t like they were family. I’d just run into them, and I’d do their shopping for them.

Swift: That’s amazing.

McCartney: It just felt good to me. I would sit and talk, and they’d have amazing stories. That’s what I liked. They would have stories from the wartime - because I was born actually in the war - and so these old ladies, they were participating in the war. This one lady I used to sort of just hang out with, she had a crystal radio that I found very magical. In the war, a lot of people made their own radios - you’d make them out of crystals [sings “The Twilight Zone” theme].

Swift: How did I not know this? That sounds like something I would have tried to learn about.

McCartney: It’s interesting, because there is a lot of parallels with the virus and lockdowns and wartime. It happened to everyone. Like, this isn’t HIV, or SARS, or Avian flu, which happened to others, generally. This has happened to everyone, all around the world. That’s the defining thing about this particular virus. And, you know, my parents... it happened to everyone in Britain, including the queen and Churchill. War happened. So they were all part of this thing, and they all had to figure out a way through it. So you figured out Folklore. I figured out McCartney III.

Swift: And a lot of people have been baking sourdough bread. Whatever gets you through!

McCartney: Some people used to make radios. And they’d take a crystal - we should look it up, but it actually is a crystal. I thought, “Oh, no, they just called it a crystal radio,” but it’s actually crystals like we know and love.

Swift: Wow.

McCartney: And somehow they get the radio waves - this crystal attracts them - they tune it in, and that’s how they used to get their news. Back to “Eleanor Rigby,” so I would think of her and think of what she’s doing and then just try to get lyrical, just try to bring poetry into it, words you love, just try to get images like “picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been,” and Father McKenzie “is darning his socks in the night.” You know, he’s a religious man, so I could’ve said, you know, “preparing his Bible,” which would have been more obvious. But “darning his socks” kind of says more about him. So you get into this lovely fantasy. And that’s the magic of songs, you know. It’s a black hole, and then you start doing this process, and then there’s this beautiful little flower that you’ve just made. So it is very like embroidery, making something.

Swift: Making a table.

McCartney: Making a table.

Swift: Wow, it would’ve been so fun to play Glastonbury for the 50th anniversary together.

McCartney: It would’ve been great, wouldn’t it? And I was going to be asking you to play with me.

Swift: Were you going to invite me? I was hoping that you would. I was going to ask you.

McCartney: I would’ve done “Shake It Off.”

Swift: Oh, my God, that would have been amazing.

McCartney: I know it, it’s in C!

Swift: One thing I just find so cool about you is that you really do seem to have the joy of it, still, just no matter what. You seem to have the purest sense of joy of playing an instrument and making music, and that’s just the best, I think.

McCartney: Well, we’re just so lucky, aren’t we?

Swift: We’re really lucky.

McCartney: I don’t know if it ever happens to you, but with me, it’s like, “Oh, my god, I’ve ended up as a musician.”

Swift: Yeah, I can’t believe it’s my job.

McCartney: I must tell you a story I told Mary the other day, which is just one of my favorite little sort of Beatles stories. We were in a terrible, big blizzard, going from London to Liverpool, which we always did. We’d be working in London and then drive back in the van, just the four of us with our roadie, who would be driving. And this was a blizzard. You couldn’t see the road. At one point, it slid off and it went down an embankment. So it was “Ahhh,” a bunch of yelling. We ended up at the bottom. It didn’t flip, luckily, but so there we are, and then it’s like, “Oh, how are we going to get back up? We’re in a van. It’s snowing, and there’s no way.” We’re all standing around in a little circle, and thinking, “What are we going to do?” And one of us said, “Well, something will happen.” And I thought that was just the greatest. I love that, that’s a philosophy.

Swift: “Something will happen.”

McCartney: And it did. We sort of went up the bank, we thumbed a lift, we got the lorry driver to take us, and Mal, our roadie, sorted the van and everything. So that was kind of our career. And I suppose that’s like how I ended up being a musician and a songwriter: “Something will happen.”

Swift: That’s the best.

McCartney: It’s so stupid it’s brilliant. It’s great if you’re ever in that sort of panic attack: “Oh, my God,” or, “Ahhh, what am I going to do?”

Swift: “Something will happen.”

McCartney: All right then, thanks for doing this, and this was, you know, a lot of fun.

Swift: You’re the best. This was so awesome. Those were some quality stories!

#this just might be the longest post I have ever posted #I have so much work so I'll read and edit later #taylor swift #paul mccartney #Rolling Stone magazine #interview #folklore era

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