#the way he’s been playing oh we fumbled that bag soooo bad

[maiteo]

knew brandon vazquez was gonna come back to haunt atl….

[theswiftarmy]

#32 – THE QUADRAPHONIC FOUR (And The Lish Lish Wishlist)

No artist lives in a vacuum.  Every artist is influenced by every possible work of art they have ever encountered.  If the art you take, is equal to the art you make, one must be careful which art they consume, every book you've ever read, movie you've ever watched, song you've ever heard, painting you've stared at, every Broadway play you’ve ever sat through, that art could be the art of war, or perhaps, nothing more than art for art's sake.  But that’s the thing, you just never know what’s at stake.

If we’re all under the influence of influencers, who’s influencing the influencers?

           The best way to describe what happened after Lizzo’s flute song collided with that sweet Swiftie sound is that moment on a dance floor when one song ends and another begins.  The shuffle of a playlist controlling the dancefloor, two songs adjacent to one another, but the changeover wasn’t smooth, it didn’t flow, it didn’t sync with the tempo.  Ask anyone who was there, they’ll agree.  Someone hit the skip button mid-song on a shuffled playlist.  It completely interrupted the entire dancefloor right in the middle of the groove.  And… well, here we are…

           The interior of the Westin Bonaventure stood brightly lit.  Day time.  Business as usual, so it seemed. Guests coming and going.  According to several very vague signs some sort of big important conference was on the verge of taking place.  A bag guy bellhop walked by Billie Eilish pushing some bags on a cart.  ‘I’m the baaaaaaaaag guy.’  He sang out.

           “Uh.”  Billie Eilish wasn’t sure what else to say.  “What just happened?”

           The group stood facing one lone standing Swifite.  The large group of Swifites were nowhere to be seen.  Just one, single Swiftie remained from the gaggle of Swifties that had just chased them down the street and cornered them on the walkway above South Figueroa Street.

“Not so tough without your friends, are you?”  Kymmie smiled at the one remaining cardigan.  He wore it as though it were a size or two too big, a hand-me-down of some sort.

The Swiftie backed up slightly.  He lifted his hands to form a heart shape.

The group looked to one another then back to the lone Swifite, a heart shaped Flavor Flav Bluetooth speaker locket hanging on his neck.  The Swiftie lowered his hands.  His eyes narrowed.  Ready for attack.  A couple walked by, touristy looking, they gawked for a moment then continued on their way.

The lone Swiftie stepped back again now just inches from being completely backed against a wall.  “Looks like the tables have turned!”  Stan stepped forward.  The Swiftie touched a few buttons and knobs on his Bluetooth locket and the sweet sounds of Taylor Swift blared back.  He lifted his hands again in a heart shape.

Stan wobbled slightly and fell back a few steps.

The Swiftie stepped forward holding his hands out again in the shape of Lover hands.  The fingers forming the top of a heart and then thumbs forming the bottom.  He directed it directly at Stan’s heart.  Stan’s eyes grew soft, complacent, relaxed… ‘Prepare to be Swifted!’  The lone Swiftie thought with glee.  ‘PREPARE TO BE SWIFTED!!!’  He grinned.

Oak Felder reached for his headphones holstered on his belt.  He hovered his hand just over the headphones and wiggled his fingers in the air inches away from the holster… ready for action.  He narrowed his eyes and focused on the Swiftie—the Swiftie narrowed his eyes and focused his attention back to Oak.  Oak pulled the headphones out like a gunslinger in an old western movie and powered them up.  The others nodded at him and reached for their over ear noise canceling headphones unfastening them from their holsters and powering them up—that is, everyone but Stan, since he didn’t have a pair of Oak Felder’s special headphones, modified with a Swiftie sound silencer.  The bag guy from before whistled The Good, the Bad and the Ugly theme song off in the distance.  They should have been wearing Swiftie silencers earlier but sometimes you get caught up in the moment.  Maybe they would regret it later on, and maybe nothing would come of it.  One never knows with these types of things.

Just then a sound like batteries dying, or an old school tape deck winding down could be heard from the High-Fi Swiftified Flavor Flav fashion accessory.

           Stan shook his head with closed eyes then opened them again.  Shake it off, shake it off.  “Whoa.  Weird.  I felt like something was just trying to take over my thoughts!”  He stopped speaking for a moment, “Cool.  Do it again!  I want more!  DO THAT AGAIN!!!”  Stan reached out for the Bluetooth heart shaped locket, ravenous, like he was mad for it.  Like he couldn’t stop himself.  “I WANT MORE!”  The Swiftie guarded the locket as Stan clawed at the air around it.

           “No.  Don’t do that again.”  Carl Lyle Lawyer, Kymmie’s dad and legal advisor advised against it as he stepped in front of Stan and the rest of the group.  They pulled Stan back, holding on to him, keeping him from nearly ripping the Flavor Flav locket off of the Swiftie’s neck.

           “Stan!”  Kanye yelled over to him, Stan turned around to face Kanye West.  Kanye snapped his fingers three times and Stan snapped out of a spell.  The scene was like a hypnotist waking someone up after hypnosis.

           “Whoa.  Ye… thanks.”  Stan moved like he had just been reunited with his body again after having some sort of out of body experience.

           Kanye nodded at his stan.  “I got ya man.  Stay woke… Stay woke.”

           The Swiftie began banging on the Bluetooth heart shaped speaker locket in a panic to get it operational again.  The device was dead.  ‘THEY MUST BE SWIFTED!’ He repeated in his head.  He pulled out his phone and fumbled with the device encased in a cool new Taylor Swift phone case.  Bluetooth connection lost.  The phone was also dead, or at least not allowing him to do whatever he was trying to do with it.  Presumably resume Taylor Swift playback though the internal built-in phone speaker.  The Swiftie looked up eyes full of panic, his heart pounding, hands trembling, as he realized he had been disarmed somehow, he stepped a few feet back until he was completely back against the wall. “Where are all my Swiftie friends!  They were right here with me and then there was a flash of light and now they’re all gone!  What’s going on!?  WHO ARE YOU!?!?”  The Swiftie demanded to know of Lizzo and the rest of the group, just moments ago, the veloci-swiftie-raptors had been ready to Swiftify.

           No one replied.  They had no answer for the Swiftie.  How else do you explain time skipping, a scene transition without any link between the two.  The DJ suddenly spinning down one tune mid song and spinning up another.  Switching from one DJ deck to another without any sort of transition that made sense.  It was the equivalent to a party guest going over to the playlist, picking up the Bluetooth connected phone or tablet or laptop and deciding to pick a new song, and everyone at the party turns to that person and screams, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!!  DON’T CHANGE THE SONG!!!”  And the person screams back, “THIS NEW SONG IS WAY BETTER!”  Party Playlist ADHD.  Too many hands skipping and shuffling and controlling the music at the party. That’s exactly what it had been like.

Will had his secret keys in hand and ready to let them into The Westin Bonaventure to escape the Swiftie chaos in the streets when Lizzo began to play her pied piper flute tune.  It had been night, and it was now inexplicably the middle of the day.  How do you go from Swifties in the streets to hotel check-in’s and complimentary eats?  Carl looked over at a large buffet setup in the lobby, it seemed quite lavish.  A large table full of fancy eats and treats.  And bottled water with a sign that read “Drink water.”

“We don’t entirely know.”  Carl responded to him matter-of-factly.

           The Lonestar Swiftie tossed a loose lock of his relatively neatly kept jet black hair to one side.  “Yeah well, you’d all be Swifties if it weren’t for HER!”  The Swiftie pointed to Lizzo.  Who was in the process of trying to tuck the flute back into her tiny purse.

           “Go IN the purse!”  She mumbled to herself trying to figure out a way to jam the flute back inside the purse.

           “I don’t think you’re going to get it back in there…”  Kymmie pointed at the flute, “That flute is like ten times the size of that purse.  I don’t understand how it even fit in there in the first place.”

           “Oh I’ll make it fit, I just need to move some things around.”  She peered into purse and then shook it up and down, then reach a finger in appearing to nudge things aside.  The sound of the contents rattling around was obnoxiously loud for such a teeny tiny itsy-bitsy handbag.  Like the sound of pots and pans banging loudly  after being dropped to a ceramic kitchen floor.  Everyone covered their ears with their hands.  “Sorry.”  Lizzo apologized.  Finally, she slid the flute in with ease and it disappeared from sight.  “There it goes.”

           The group clapped like a magician performing the final act of a show.  Lizzo took a bow.

           “Oh no!  NO!!!  NO NO NO!!!!”  The lone Swiftie suddenly screamed out.

           A few people in the lobby standing around the lavishly long table filled with food turned their heads, then went back to business as usual.

“What?”  Kymmie asked the Swiftie peering around her dad.

“My cardigan ripped!”  He replied inspecting a tear in his cardigan.

“That’s the worst.  Well, you can always get a new one.  Right?”

“No.  I mean, it’s just not the same.  Taylor gave me this one herself.  My sister is one of her backup singers… well, she was one of her backup singers.  This was supposed to be for my older sister.  She was going to wear it on tour.  But Taylor gave it to me instead.”

“What happened?  Did they have like a falling out?”  Kymmie inquired.

“She died.”

“Oh.”  Kymmie said after a moment of silence, then she stepped closer.  “I’m soooo sorry.”

“I’ll never stop being a Swiftie!  I love Taylor SO MUCH!  Taylor was EVERYTHING to my sister.  My sister loved Taylor and her music more than anything in this world.  She was her backup singer on tour and she was supposed to be on tour with her for the Lover tour.  They were best of friends.  Taylor gave her the opportunity to live out her dream… at least… before she got sick….”  The Swiftie trailed off and looked away.  He poked a finger through the tear in the cardigan.

He inspected the tear, his sister wouldn’t be upset, she’d tell him it was just ‘personalized’ now.  He missed her so much.  So.  Damn.  Much.  She was everything to him.  His older sister had been there for him his whole life, her dream was his dream.  He remembered her singing songs to him when he was younger.  He remembered her singing early Taylor, classic Taylor… it’s those songs, those early songs the first six albums that reminded him of his sister.  When he heard those songs his sister came back to life.  Through Taylor Swift, his sister could live forever.  As long as he had her songs, those old songs, the same songs his sister knew, loved, and sang to him, sang to the world… she would live forever.  All those years of practicing.  When she auditioned to be Taylor’s backup singer.  When she got the part.  All of it intertwined, time on rewind.  As long as he had those old songs… he had her.  If anything were to happen to those songs, he’d lose his sister all over again.  And it would be for good.

“Cancer sucks.”  He wiped a single tear from his eye.  He looked up at the others then looked back down to the tear in the cardigan… it seemed like a giant hole.  A hole in the cardigan just like the hole in his heart.  “And now I can’t even listen to Taylor’s old music.”  He wiped another tear away, holding up his broken phone.

Kymmie wanted to give him a hug.  She thought of an idea and pulled out her phone.  “Well, my phone’s broken too.”  She hesitated.  “See…”  She held up the phone and tapped the screen.  “So, we both have something broken…”  Kymmie stopped talking.  She knew it wasn’t a close comparison in the least.

Stan abruptly stepped forward, pushing everyone out of the way, “What did you do to my friend!”  Stan pointed a finger at the lone Swiftie.

“Stan!”  Kymmie rebuked

“Oh, so you’re taking his side.”  Stan moved his gaze to Kymmie but keeping his finger pointed at the Swiftie.

“I’m not taking anyone’s side.”  She looked at the Swiftie then to Stan, “ I’m looking at the facts and making decisions based on what I see.  It’s called empathy.”  She replied back in a lawyerly voice.  Her father smiled and nodded, that’s my girl he thought.  “Oh my gosh, I’m turning into my dad.”  She blurted out.

“Empathy.  Then what about my friend!  Dan was my best friend!  I want to know what happened to him.  Where is he now?  So, you don’t care about my feelings or care what happened to my friend?”  Stan looked Kymmie square in the eyes.

“Awwwww, they’re having their first fight.”

“Billie!  We’re not fighting, we’re just—”  Kymmie and Stan continued to glare at one another for a long moment.  “—we’re just having a disagreement.”  Kymmie turned to the Swiftie.  “Where’s his friend?  Where’s Stan’s friend?”

The Lonestar Han Solo Swiftie shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I don’t know where his friend is.  He’s probably with the rest of my friends, with the rest of the Swifties.  But… I don’t know.”  Stan sized up the Swiftie, like he was ready to start a fight.  Kymmie stepped forward in front of Stan.  The Swiftie would have been stylishly dressed if he didn’t look like he’d been dragged through the fabric of time and space unwillingly.  His shoes were hip, pants not square and a cardigan with a tiny tear in the cloth.  He kind of looked like Elvis—A teenage Elvis—At least the few photos she’d seen of Elvis, anyway.  And, yes, she did actually know who Elvis was.  “You look like Elvis.”  She said to him.  “But you’ve got slightly longer hair in the front, I like it though.”  She was trying to make conversation, defuse the situation between the Swiftie and Stan.

“I’ve been told that.”

“I think he looks a little more like Draco Malfoy but with an Elvis haircut.”  Stan added, contemptuously, still angry that he had no answers about what happened to his friend.

“That would make sense, Swiftie is Slytherin.” Justin said and looked at Kanye.  Kanye nodded.  Kanye looked at his stan Stan.  Stan nodded back.

“Swiftie is not Slytherin!”  The Lonestar Swiftie shouted back.

“I mean, it is a little.  Right Scotty?”  Justin looked at Scotty too hottie B Borchetta and he too nodded back.

“But, would that make you Lord Voldemort?”  Carl Lyle Lawyer, legal advisor to Scotty B asked Scott.  “Because you discovered Taylor.”

“In this example?  Well, one might say that if he’s Draco Malfoy, then wouldn’t that make Taylor Lord Voldemort?”

“TAYLOR IS NOT VOLDEMORT!!!!  YOU ARE!” The Swiftie screamed back.  “TAYLOR IS THE MAN!  TAYLOR IS MY HERO!  TAYOR IS THE HERO!  TAYLOR IS ALWAYS THE HERO!  TAYLOR IS EVERYONE’S HEROINE.  SHE IS WONDER WOMAN!”

“Okay, okay.  Everyone just chill.  Soo… ummm… how old are you?”  Kymmie asked changing the conversation trying again to diffuse things.

“Well, since I don’t really know you, I’m not going to say my actual age.  But, I’m a teenager.”

“Me too!”  Kymmie said with a smile.  “And Stan here is too.”  Stan waved back, deciding that impressing Kymmie was more important than the whereabouts of his friend Dan.  “I do that all the time, especially if I want someone to think I’m cooler than I really am and need to be younger or older than I really am.  I just say I’m between the ages of 13 and 17.”  Kymmie looked at her dad, “Why did I just say that in front of my dad.”

“We’ll discuss what you just said later.”  He said in a very serious lawyery voice.  “I didn’t raise my daughter to be untruthful.”

“It’s not that I’m being untruthful, I’m just not disclosing the full truth.”

Her dad didn’t reply.  He simply crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Ooooooooooooooooo…” Everyone murmured.  “Someone’s in trouble.”  Billie Eilish whispered to Justin Bieber.  He smirked slightly.

An awkward moment of silence ensued.

“So…. what’s your name?”  Stan asked breaking the silence.  Trying to impress Kymmie by following her earlier lead.  The things we do when we start to like someone.  Kymmie smiled at him.  He kind of looked like a youthful Kanye, a young Kanye when Kanye worked at The Gap in the 90s.

“My name’s Sashy.  Well, Sasha, but friends call me Sashy.  I can get a little sassy.  Sashy the sassy Swiftie.”

“Are you, umm?  Do you, uh… like… You know…”  Stan narrowed his eyes slightly.  “Like, you’re a dude, but your name is sassy Sashy.  It just seems a little…”

“Are you trying to ask if I’m gay?  Is that what you’re trying to ask?”  The Swiftie replied sassily.

“Stan!”  Kymmie yelled.

“Well…” Stan shifted his stance his tall teen frame bobbling around.  “Kinda, yeah.”  Impressing Kymmie was turning out to be more difficult than expected.  It’s okay, just keep your head in the game don’t let a small setback get in the way, he thought to himself.

“I’m pansexual, actually, I don’t love by gender.”  The Swiftie replied confidently.

“See, I like that.  That’s really cool.  That’s just really beautiful.”  Kymmie tilted her head slightly and stepped one foot towards Sashy.

Stan moved his eyes between Kymmie and Sashy.  He could feel a hint of jealousy hitting him.  “Yeah, that’s cool.  I… uh… I think that’s cool too!”  He said in a tone vying for Kymmie’s affection but trying to stay chill. “Sorry Sashy, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything, I was just asking.”  He looked back at Kymmie for her approval.  She seemed peeved.  He looked over at Kanye tried to mentally convey his thoughts to him ‘Kymmie is so hard to figure out, like I’m trying really hard but I say the wrong thing’.  Kanye mentally thought back at his stan ‘tell me about it, I know exactly what you’re talking about, I’ve got Kim problems of my own’.  Stan thought back to his idol, ‘you just get me, ye, this is why I stan you so hardcore.’  Kanye replied again with his mind, ‘of course I get it, Stan, I get it.  You’re my favorite fan.’

Billie Eilish leaned over to whisper to Justin Bieber standing beside her “Great, now she’s going to have to choose between two boys, like in Twilight. “

“You read Twilight?”

“Finneas and I watched the movies. You?”

“I audio booked it while I was at the gym.”  Justin made a flexing muscle motion.

“Nice.”  Billie rocked her head back and forth in agreement as though she were standing in the crowd at a My Chemical Romance concert… no that’d be way too intense… more like watching The Smiths, or some sort of Brit pop indie shoegaze band.

“Okay well, it’s nice to meet you Sashy, my name is Kymmie… Kymmie Lawyer.  Kymmie is spelled with an ie at the end and a y after the K.  Okay?  And this is Stan.”

Sashy The Sassy Swiftie made an unsure half smile that lasted for a brief moment.  Stan smiled at the sound of Kymmie mentioning his name.  He felt some sort of strange new feeling he’d never felt before.  Like, he just wanted to be around her, all the time.  He could hear Ye in his thoughts, ‘play it cool, play it cool.’

“I don’t mean to interrupt miss Katniss Everdeen Chatness and her little lover triangle between Peta Mellark and Gale Hawthorne but I’m going to head over to the front desk and see if I can find out what day it is since we seem to be back in some sort of world that resembles normalcy—”  She pointed to the hustle and bustle of the interior atrium of the hotel lobby.  Life appeared to be as normal as could be at the moment inside the walls of the Westin Bonaventure Hotel.  Things were certainly vastly different from what they had just experienced in the previous street like a scene from the Westside Story.  “—at least, I think we’re back, something still feels… off—Like the world’s a little blurry.”

“Wait.”  Kymmie shouted as Billie started to walk away.  “We should introduce everyone to our new friend!”

Billie made an annoyed face.  These stans!  She thought.  “I’m Billie Eilish, okay gotta go!”

“No!  You have to wait until everyone has been introduced.”

Billie rolled her eyes.  “Okay.  Fine.”

Kymmie smiled.  “So, I’m Kymmie Lawyer, and that’s my dad Carl Lyle Lawyer.  He does Lawyery things for that guy, Scott Borchetta, who discovered Taylor Swift—”

“I love Taylor!  I stan her so much.  I stan Taylor!”

“Yes, Sashy, we know.  Of course, you do.  You’re a Swiftie.  We went over this already.  Anyway, my dad also works for like some guy named Scooter I don’t know, and he works for some guy who likes the ocean, or water, his name is The Whale, or Mr. Whale, or something along those lines.”

The Switie looked confused for a moment and then tried to pretend like he was following along.

“I stan Taylor!!!”  Sashy repeated, just to make sure it was clear.

“Yes, Sashy, you said that.  You said that like a million times already.  Taylor reminds you of your big sister, I understand.  You miss your sister.”  Kymmie smiled compassionately at the nodding Swiftie, then continued her introductions, “Okay, and that’s Lizzo, and Kanye West.”  They waved back.  “And that’s Oak Felder, he’s Ariana Grandes music producer.  Well, Ariana works with a lot of people, but he’s one of her favs.  And that’s his sidekick Pop Wansel.”

“Sidekick?”  Pop was going to object but decided he was okay with that.  “Sidekick, eh?  Yeah, alright.”

“And that’s Justin Bieber.”  Justin gave a thumbs up.

“And this is Stan, he’s Kanye’s biggest fan.  And I’m Ariana Grande’s stan and biggest fan.  And then there’s this mystery guy who helped us to escape the Tunnel of Sound.”

“I still think it was The Wall of Sound.”  Billie corrected.

“Whatever…”  Kymmie waved her away.  “Anyway, Will Way has these magic keys…”  She looked around trying to find Will. “Wait… where’d Will go?  He’s gone!”  Kymmie blurted out to the group.

“Yeah!  Where’s WILL?  That dude was cool.”  Stan craned his neck in every direction.

“Wait…” Kymmie pointed to something on the floor by Sashy’s feet.  “Aren’t those the keys he had?”

Sashy swiftly scooped up the keys and held them up.  They sparkled in the light, every color of the rainbow represented, one color for each key, the translucent material reflecting light in every direction—a rainbow disco ball.  He held them out to Kymmie.

“How about you hang on to those until we find Will and then you can give them back to him.”

Sasha smiled and then he hooked them on to his broken Flavor Flav locket speaker.  “They’ll be right here.”  He was still upset about his torn treasured Taylor cardigan, but felt proud to be responsible for these cool looking keys.  Kymmie was going to make it her new mission to befriend this Swiftie.  Not only did he lose his older sister, but he lost all his Swiftie friends.  And who knows, perhaps in time, she might be able to convince him to join team Ariana Grande.  Baby steps.

           Just then a young lady darted across the hotel lobby yelling out to them.  Her blonde pigtails bobbed.  Her roots died green to match Billie’s iconic look.

“LISH LISH!!!  CAN I HAVE YOUR AUTOGRAPH?!?!  LISH LISH!!!!!  I STAN YOU SO MUCH!!!!!  I LOVE YOU LISHY!”

“Incoming.”  Scott said to the group.

The excited young one nearly ran right into Billie Eilish.  “LISH LISH!!!!”  She held out a pen and paper and a sticker covered small notebook.  Billie’s face was plastered across the front.

“Are you calling me Lish Lish?”  Billie asked.  The girl nodded so fast her head looked like it would fall off.  The pigtails flailed about.  She smiled and blinked.  “That’s not my name.”  Billie replied.

“LISHY!!!!  Listen, I’m your number one fan, I’m your stan!!!!”

“Lishy?  Okay… um… That’s not my name either.  You can have an autograph, but… just call me Billie.  I don’t go by Lish Lish, or Lishy.”

“Thanks Lish!”  She held out the autograph journal.

Billie made an Aubrey Plaza look with her eyes, let out a sigh, then took the autograph book from her stan and signed her name on a blank page in the journal.

“Who do I make it out to?”

“Jillie Jean.”

“Your name is Jillie Jean?”

“Jillian Jean.  But I go by Jillie Jean, friends call me Mean Jillie Jean because sometimes I can be mean.  Or my full nicky is Mean Green Jillie Jean Bean because I get jealous and mean and I like Jellybeans.  Also green is my favorite color.  Like the color of your hair… and also my hair, I dyed it just like yours!  Seeeeeee.”  She pointed to the green part of her hair.  “We match!”

“Riiiiiiiight.”  Billie signed the book and handed it back to her along with the pen.

“So what’s going on?  What are we doing?  Where are we going?”  Jillie asked, excitedly.

“Ummm… we’re not doing anything.  Where are your parents?  You’re a small child of some sort.”

“Eh, they’re around here somewhere, they said I could go anywhere that didn’t require a drivers license.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m older than I look.  I’m a teenager.”

“US TOO!!!”  Kymmie, Stan, and Sashy yelled out.  “We’re trying to be influencers.”  Kymmie said and pointed at Stan and herself.

“ME TOO!”  Jillie and Sashy yelled at the same time.

“NO WAY!!!!”  All four of the teens yelled at the same time.

“Great.  This is exactly what I wanted to do with my day.”  Scott Borchetta said in an exasperated voice, a Professor Severus Snape voice, complete contrast to the excited aspiring teen influencer stans with the energy of a million suns.

“Does anyone else suddenly feel really old right now?”  Justin said to the non-teens.  Kanye, Lizzo, Oak, Pop, Scott, and Carl all nodded back.  

Billie shrugged.  “Not really.”

“Oh, don’t worry, one day… you’ll get it.”  Carl said with a smile.  “No one can stay young forever.”

“THIS IS SO AMAZING!!!  I get to hang out with other teenagers who are also aspiring to be influencers and of course, my idol, Billie, LISH LISH!”

“Whoa… hang out?  No no no… and don’t Lish Lish me.  I already said that’s not my name.  My name is—”

“LISHY!!!!!”

“I gave you an autograph.”

Jillie stared blankly.

“That means you go back to wherever you were before.”

Jillie stared blankly more.  She blinked a few times.  “Lishy lish!”

“Wow.  You are incredibly annoying.  And also very persistent.  I’m not getting rid of you am I?”

“We’re a team!  Billie and Jillie!  Lishy house for life!”  She did a little dance.

“ARIANATORS!”  Kymmie joined in.

“YE!”  Stan also began to dance.  Kanye nodded approvingly.

“SWIFTIE HOUSE!!!!”  Sashy joined the dance party.

The four teen wanabe influencers began to dance together in an imaginary dance party in the middle of the Westin Bonaventure hotel lobby, like a mini-Coachella were taking place and only the teens could hear the music.

Carl and Scott sighed as they watched the four teen stans dance.  “I feel like I’m chaperoning a high school dance at Hogwarts, but instead of houses, they’re stanning pop music icons.”  Carl said to Oak Felder and Pop Wansel.  They made a face like dads agreeing from the sideline of their kid’s sporting event.

“This is great.”  Scott added, sarcastically, implying that it was in fact, anything but great.  “It’s like I’m stuck in detention with the brat pack of aspiring social media influencers.  We’re gonna have to save the world with a bunch of Tik Toking teens.”

“SAVE THE WORLD!!!!  YES!  THAT SOUNDS AWESOME!!!  Wait, we need like a name for us…”  Jillie proclaimed.  “If we’re gonna save the world, we need a name.”

“Oohhhhhh… I LOVE THAT!”  Kymmie beamed.

“SO COOL!  Yes!”  Stan also smiled… mostly at Kymmie but also at the others, but mostly at Kymmie.  And then he kind of tried to stand cool, like Ye had said in his head, stand cool, superhero cool.

Sashy danced on his own with the group, but also apart from the group.  He appeared to be doing some dance no one had ever seen before… it must be some kind of secret Swiftie dance that Taylor made up and posted to Tik Tok and only her Swifties could see and learn the dance.  It was probably part of some sort of worldwide Swiftie dance that allowed them to speak to one another in Swiftie dance code lingo.

We can dance if we want to,

We can leave your friends behind

'Cause your friends don't dance

And if they don't dance

Well, they're no friends of mine

It's the Swiftie dance

Well, it's the Swiftie dance

Well, it's the Swiftie dance

Oh, it's the Swiftie dance

Oh, it's the Swiftie dance

“Well there’s 4 of you, how about the Quadraphonic Four.”  Billie suggested.  “Although, that’s kind of redundant since Quadra—”

“Ooooo, LISH… that’s delish!  I don’t know what a quadraphonic is, but it sounds amaaaaaaaze.”

“Can I trade my stan?”  Billie asked.  “That’s a serious question.”

“TRADE?!?!?! Noooooooo.  You’re stuck with me Lishy!”

“She’s sooooo annoying.  Why is my stan so annoying?”  Billie complained.  “How come I got the annoying one?  This isn’t fair.”

“They’re all annoying.  That’s what stans are.  Better than strangies.  Just be glad you don’t have strangies following you.”  A passerby-er said back to her in a low voice.  Billie turned around to see someone walking quickly away.  What’s a strangie?  She couldn’t quite tell who it was, the silhouette looked a little like Brendon Urie… but, maybe not… the person was already too far away and just his outline was visible.  He walked quickly by a peculiar sign that read “THE CINAMATOGRAPHER’S ANOMALY DISCOVERY EMERGENCY MEETING REGISTRATION: RED CAMERA, ARRI, PANAVISION & EQUIVILENT” he then walked by another printed sign “SCREENWRITER’S ANOMALY DISCOVERY EMERGENCY MEETING REGISTRATION: FINAL DRAFT, CELTX, WRITERDUET, TRELBY & EQUIVILENT”  Finally the man walked by a third printed sign, “AUDIO ENGINEER’S ANOMALY DISCOVERY EMERGENCY MEETING REGISTRATION: PRO-TOOLS, CUBASE, LOGIC, ABLETON, FL STUDIO & EQUIVILENT”  and a fourth one “EDITORS ANOMALY DISCOVERY MEETING REGISTRATION: AVID, PREMIERE, FINAL CUT, DAVINCI RESOLVE & EQUIVILENT”

Anomaly discovery… emergency meeting?  She thought, as he walked by a sign at the very far end, “FOLEY ART FINDING”.  None of it made any sense.  There were other signs designating various meeting signups: COLOR CORRECTION FADE FINDING, DIRECTORS DEBREIFING DISCUSSION GROUP, ACTORS DEBRIEFING DISCUSSION GROUP, CREATIVE CLOUD STORMS, NEGATIVE+ SERVICES INFORMATION SESSION

Negative+?  What is all this for?  What is all this?  There’s something going on, but WHAT?  If only Finneas were here… She needed to find Finneas.  He’d be able to make since of all of this madness.

She turned her attention back from the labeled conference sign-up tables to the stans, Billie pointed at Justin.  “How come you don’t have one?  Can you take her?  Please?”  Billie pleaded in his direction then turned to Jillie, “How do you feel about being Justin’s stan?  Justin is REALLY cool, he’s REALLY cool.  And his music is AWESOME.  Jillie… you don’t want to pass up this opportunity.  I mean, it’s JUSTIN BIEBER!”

Justin and Jillie both simultaneously shrugged back and replied, “Nah, I’m good.”

“Jinx!”  Jillie shouted out.

“What?”  Justin asked.

“I just jinxed you.  You said the same thing I said at the same time.  That means you can’t talk until I say you can talk.”

Justin leaned in and whispered to Billie, “Billie… a definite pass on this one.”

“I said no talking!  You’re Jinxed.”

“Well, fortunately for me, I can only be Jinxed by my Beliebers.  So unless you want to become a belieber, you can’t Jinx me.”

“Well, that’s not gonna happen.  I’m with Lishy.”  She stared down Justin.  “Okay fine.  But I’m going to double check the rules to make sure that’s true.”  Jillie Jean opened her notebook and made a note to check cross stan Jinxing.  She wrote it in all caps, CHECK RULES ON CROSS STAN JINXING.

“I’m redirecting your Jinx to Billie.” Justin said to Jillie.

“Can’t do that.  Can’t redirect your Jinx to me.”  Billie shook her head no at Justin.

“Jillie, check your rulebook on that.”  Justin replied trying not to laugh.

“I don’t think you can redirect a Jinx.”  Jillie was dead serious and deep in thought.

Billie and Justin made Parks and Rec Aubrey Plaza/April Ludgate eyes at one another.

“Lizzo!  Please… Just take her.  Do that little magic flute thing you did earlier and lure her over!”

“Oh, I… uh, I lost the flute.”  Lizzo pretended to check a watch she didn’t have. “And, I um, have to be somewhere soon.”

“No you didn’t and no you don’t.  You PUT THE FLUTE BACK IN YOUR PURSE!  We all saw you put it back in your purse.  And then we gave you a standing ovation, and you bowed.  Although, we were already standing when we started clapping, so I don’t know if it technically counts as a standing ovation.”

“Well… I have a lot of stuff in there, it would take me a while to find it again.”

Billie rolled her eyes.

Jillie began to sing, “I don’t want anybody else, when I think about you I—”

“Okaaaaay!  That’s enough of that song.  How about if you don’t sing the rest of that song, you can be my stan.  Okay Jillie?  I feel like the rest of those lyrics to that song aren’t appropriate for someone your age to be singing.  I’m trying to be the responsible role model here.”

“LISHY!!!!!!!!!  Listen, Lishy.  It’s me and you baby!  I’ll be the best stan you’ve ever had.  I won’t let you down!  I promise.”

“Seriously.  One last chance… anyone want to trade?”  Billie asked.

“Lish, don’t be ridiculish.”  Jillie smiled at her idol.

“Okay that was kind of funny, I’ll give you that…  You’re still annoying though.  I mean you’re funny, but you’re annoying.”

“I’ll take it!”  Jillie grinned.  She opened her autograph book.  “Okay, so now that I got your autograph, I can cross that off my Lish Lish Wishlist.”

“Your what?”

“My Lish Lish Wishlist!  It’s all things you!  Like, get your autograph, which I just did, interview you on my influencer socials, go on a road trip together—”

“That’ll never happen.”

“We’ll get there, Lishy.  Anyway, some of the other things on my list include…”

It was then that Billie noticed The Whale, she tuned out her stan, Jillie, as she yammered on about all the items on her Lish Lish Wishlist.  He was standing on the other side of the lobby talking to someone, standing near one of the registration tables for the ‘Anomaly Discovery Emergency Meeting’.  He seemed almost like he was selling something to them.  He was very animated, his hands waving about in an excited manner, and every so often he would point to the signs.  His guest’s eyes would fill with wonder.  There’s definitely something going on.  The Whale is up to something.  He’s behind all of this.  Taylor’s warning about The Whale echoed inside Billie’s thoughts.  She flashed back to the meeting in his office not far away from where they currently were in downtown LA.  She recalled what Taylor and Taylor’s attorney Sara with her Siri like voice had said about The Whale and what his intentions were.  She recalled the fabled celebrity suicide notebook/journal currently being held for safekeeping from the world presumably by Emma Watson—hidden within her own journal collection—and how The Whale and his friends had a trick up their sleeve to leverage Emma’s own secrets against her by pulling off a Mean Girls/Regina George movie ending using Emma’s journals to expose her Hogwarts Burn Book, if it existed at all.  If it didn’t exist then Emma had nothing to sweat about.  But if it did… she’d have no choice but to go along with The Whale, despite what Taylor and Halsey and Taylor’s attorney Sara told her earlier.  If she wrote personal things about Tom Felton and her other co-stars, and it were published, who knows what outcome that may lead to, and there’s no way Emma wanted that on her conscious.  And if Emma made a Hollywood Burn Book of everyone she’s ever been in a movie with, that would be even more useful to The Whale.  It’s possible Emma handed the notebook of celebrity suicide notes to someone else.  If she wanted out, if she wanted out of Hollywood for good, could she even get out?  Would The Whales of Hollywood let her?  Just trade in her fame?  Just like that?  Emma Watson becomes Emma the person without the Hollywood image.  Take off her fame, like a dress she no longer wants to wear—Fame as a fashion accessory that one can simply remove at the end of the day and discard as they please.  Would it be as easy as handing the secret celebrity suicides journal off to someone else?  Perhaps.  But who?  Who would she know and trust who also journals?  They would have to journal in order to hide the devilish book amongst their own journals.  Who else could hide that book, stashed between journals?  Who else would be able to hold such a notebook and never be so curious as to peek at it even once?  That is, after all, what The Whale is after.  The Whale had one agenda and that’s leverage because leverage, leads to control.

You see, The Whale wanted something big… and perhaps, it’s to control this massive fragmentation occurring before our very eye, perhaps not.  No one can deny the winds of change are upon us.  New Streaming+ services galore popping up almost every day and influencer generated content on every corner.  Any kid with a computer and enough knowhow would create the next number one viral music sensation and disrupt the charts.  The old-world entertainment aristocracy on the verge of crumbling.  Like Steven Spielberg warned, Hollywood was headed for an implosion, and The Whales of Hollywood knew it.  Maybe the bankrolling days were numbered.  Or, maybe the art itself just didn’t want to be part and parcel in this profiteering game any longer, it wanted to break free, Art For Art’s Sake l'art pour l'art.  For all anyone knew these Tik Tok teens really were superheroes saving the art world one video at a time.  The Whale and his entertainment business cronies had everything to lose.  When you universally control an entire group of music or movies and a new generation threatens to pull that rug out from under you, what else can you do?  The biggest threat to a Hollywood whale is an artist that can still make new content and make it on their own terms.  Afterall Michael Jackson won’t be rerecording his music catalog any time soon.  Billie Jean will live on indefinitely.  Art that lives on seemingly forever is the name of the game.  Old movies, old TV shows, Just like books and paintings from the past.  But new content is a wildcard in this “Classic Art” pawn shop world of wheel and deal.  I’ll trade you this “Classic Taylor” music, an old catalog of “Vintage Swift” for this brand-new mystery gift, let’s make a deal, you know it’s a steal!  The Whale and his leverage, his fabled suicide note journal, melancholy mixed with infinite sadness, minor key melody, and of course, his trusts.  His grip on Hollywood, the man no one knew even existed, ruled it all in plain sight from an unmarked office building in downtown Los Angeles.  The man and his associates trying to fight off that inevitable Spielberg implosion of Hollywood, rolling bigger and bigger dice until finally, they pay the final price.  But if The Whale can get his way those dice can roll forever, and that implosion will never come.  The Whale song will sing on and we all sing along.

“What?”  Jillie watched as Billie’s face went pale like a ghost.  “What’s wrong?”

“The Whale…”  She said in a low whisper to her stan Jillie, not taking her eyes off of The Whale.  She glanced quickly over at the others then back to The Whale.  Carl wore a poker face while he watched The Whale.  The rest of them hadn’t noticed his presence inside the hotel, at least as far as Billie could tell no one else had noticed.  There was no telling what Carl was thinking.  She didn’t trust him, even though Kymmie was cool, but that’s because Kymmie most likely had no idea what line of work her dad was really in.  He’s a Hollywood entertainment lawyer, an intellectual property specialist and he worked directly for The Whale, one of the most dangerous men in the business.  But maybe even Carl didn’t know what Taylor knew, maybe he was just doing his job, he did have a daughter to provide for after all, and she seemed to have a habit of breaking her phones, and those things aren’t cheap!  But something told Billie he knew way more than he was letting on.

“The Whale?”  Jillie Jean craned her neck looking around.  “Oh, him?  The old guy over there?”  Billie slowly shook her head yes.  “My parents and I were talking to him earlier.  He said if I ever made it big to contact him.”  Jillie continued.

Billie leaned in closer to Jillie.  “Jillie, listen to me, don’t ever talk to him again, ever again.  He’s a VERY dangerous man.”

She furrowed her brow.  “I don’t know Lish, he seemed nice.  What’s so wrong with him?”  She asked innocently.

“Just don’t, okay?  Just… trust me.  He’s not what he seems.”  

“Really?”  Jillie looked over at him again then back to Billie.  She looked down at her autograph book then back up to Billie.  “He said he’s here for the same conference my parents are here for about some new finding… my parents are here specifically for something called Foley Art or something.  Some Foley Art ‘finding’, I don’t know, really, that’s what I know from what I overheard between him and my parents.  My parents received some notification about it a while back. I looked it up, Foley Art is the art of making sound effects for movies… apparently all the big movie directors are going to show up too, it’s all part of some big conference.  Something about a pattern.  To quote my dad, ‘it’s happening across all the creative mediums…’”

“A pattern?  And the pattern has to do with the finding?”

“Yeah, I don’t know… To be honest, Lish, I wasn’t paying attention.  They started to discuss it in the other room and I was just like, I’m gonna put on some Lishy Lish while I do my homesworks”

“Your homesworks?”  Billie asked, completely confused.

“That’s what I call homework.”

“Why not just call it homework?”

“Because Lish, no one wants to watch me do homework on livestream.  But if I call it homesworks, they tune in!  They tune in like a TON!”

Billie put her hands on her hips and looked down at her stan, “Wait a minute, you’re telling me that you livestream yourself doing homework and no one watches it, but you changed the name to homesworks, even though it’s still just homework, and people watch your livestream?”

“Uh, yeah.  I mean, I listen to your music while I do my homesworks, also I’ve got 8 different camera angles that I switch between too, and I dazzle them with effects.  The other night I had over 7500 viewers!  I even had the chat box open and everything!  They were asking ME questions, I wasn’t asking them, in case you were wondering if I was cheating on my homesworks.”

“I wasn’t.  Wait, hold on, you play my music while you livestream?”

“Of course.  Always.  I was listening to your music for like the 7000th time.”

“Are you paying royalties on my music use—"

“Lish, I don’t know how any of that works, all I know is people like homesworks.  And if people like it, I’m gonna keep doing it.  And if they think I’m royalty, great.”

“Royalties, not royalty—you know what, never mind.  I’m pretty sure they’re just tuning in to listen to MY music.”

“Yeah, okay Lish, I’m sure they are, if it makes you feel better, you keep telling yourself that.  Enough about my homesworks, I’ll send you the link next time I’m homesworksing.  B-Lish, let’s get back on subject.  Anyway, I heard Spielberg is supposed to be here!  Which really sucks because I wanted to get a selfie and post it to my socials but now my phone is broken.  It just says SMPTE error, I tried to take the SIM card out and put it back in but it’s not that.  Anyway, The Whale gave me his business card and everything, it’s got a funny picture of a whale on it, see!”  She pulled the card from her pocket and held it out for Billie to see.

Billie looked at the business card in Jillie’s hand.  “Can I see that?”

“LISH!  For you, anything.”

“Thanks…”  She took the card and inspected it.  ‘The Whale’ was printed in fancy font and along with it a cute drawing of a cartoonified whale, a Disney looking whale, but vintage looking, like something Disney would have drawn in the olden days before the name Disney was anything to anyone.  The card had additional peculiar properties, it contained optical illusions.  If you tilted the card one way and back another, the cartoon whale appeared to move back and forth.  You could also see bits of text change to form a sentence that could only be read as you tilted the card to reveal each word.  The card contained no phone number or identifying information, no street address, simply a QR code.  Or rather a series of codes depending on which way you held the card.  The QR code changed as you tilted the card, an infinite number of possible QR codes, again, depending on which way you held the card when you scanned it.  It seemed like something you’d find in a 1980s cereal box as a prize with a secret message.  The sentence read, “You can trust me.”

Jillie pointed to the QR code beside the cartoonified Whale.  “I tried to scan the QR code with my phone, Lish, no dice.  He gave me his card right after this SMPTE error appeared.  Or maybe it happened when he gave me the card.  I know I used my phone just before my parents started chatting with him, I was live on all the socials showing off that crazy food table over there, not as many viewers as homesworks, but not bad.  My parents told me not to post anything online about this conference, but, whatever, like I’m NOT going to post stuff online.  Parents, am I right?”

“Listen, Jillie, that man is not what he seems.  He’s a very bad man, okay?  Just remember that.  He works at a bank his name is Banksy, but not THAT Banksy, not the one that makes art, he’s a money guy… but they don’t talk about money.  I know, you’re gonna say what kind of bank doesn’t talk about money?”

“That’s easy, Lishy.  A blood bank!”

“Ohhhh, funny.  Funny.  Hey, Jillie Bean, you’re not so bad.”

“And you wanted to trade me!”  Jillie tossed her hands up in the air.

“That was before we… we bonded.” She said not really paying attention to her stan but inspecting the business card more.  She turned it over and tilted it slowly back and forth to reveal an animation of a stream that appeared to flow out of the QR box… flowing down the stream were musical notes.  She handed the card back to Jillie. And whispered to her.  “Don’t tell anyone what I said to you about The Whale.  That guy over there works for him.”  She pointed at Carl Lyle Lawyer/Kymmie Lawyer’s dad/Legal advisor to those fighting Taylor to keep her old masters from her.

“Lish, listen, I stan you so much right now.”  Jillie Jean beamed back at her.  Then lowered her voice so that Carl and Scott and Justin and the others couldn’t tell what she was saying, “I won’t say a word.  I trust you.  If you say The Whale is smelly fish in a pail, I believe you.”

“Jillie…”

“Billie…”  She smiled and blinked.

“Listen…”

“Lish… I’m listening.”  She smiled wider.

Billie smiled ever so slightly for just a moment, then attempted to conceal it.  She shot a quixotic look at her stan, then thought for a moment, “You said that your parents were talking to The Whale about how there’s a bunch of movie directors showing up for a conference and about Foley Art?”

“Yeah.”

“Did he say what it’s about?”  Billie motioned to Oak Felder and he walked over to stand near her.  “Like, any other details about the ‘Foley Art Finding’ that you mentioned earlier, or… anything else at all?”

“Nope.  I just know there’s more, that’s just the part of the conference my parents had an interest in more than anything else.  Something about sound effects in movies and old samples.  I don’t know.  Did you know, that in Harry Potter the sound of Buck Beak is actually some sound from like a million years ago.  It’s like that in a ton of movies… old sounds.  Like Indiana Jones, Raiders of the Lost Ark, The Whale said he plans to get a meeting with Spielberg about something, discuss business proposals related to the finding, apparently, they used old bird sounds from Cornell University along with something called Movietone and blah blah blah… I don’t know, I wasn’t paying attention.”  She returned her voice to normal volume,  “They lost me at Cornell, I plan to attend Brown University so what do I care about Cornell.”

Billie looked to Oak.  Oak looked back, thinking what Billie was thinking.  Australian Crosswalk sound, the sound map.  There’s more to it, to the mysterious subsonic frequencies.  The adaptive sounds they saw on his computer screen.

“Brown?  ME TOO!”  Sashy yelled.

“Cooooooool.  OMG if we both get in, you wanna be study buddies?”  Jillie screamed at Sashy.

“Deal!”  Sashy screamed back.

“Brown?”  Kymmie stated flatly.  “I’ve got my heart set on UCLA.  That’s where my dad went.”

“I’m not going to college.  I’m gonna be a college dropout.”  Stan added.

“You have to go to college to be a dropout.”  Sashy said sassily.

“No you are NOT going to be a dropout!”  Kanye said to his stan.  “You’re going to college and you’re going to graduate.”

“Okay fine.  I want to go to UCLA then.”

“You just want to go because she wants to go there.”  Justin pointed at Kymmie.

“No, whatever… I was thinking about going there anyway.”  Stan said defensively.  Kymmie smiled slightly at Stan then looked away.

Why the interest in Spielberg, Billie thought for a moment turning her attention away from the stans bickering about which colleges they wanted to attend.  Why would The Whale want a meeting with Spielberg?  Then, it suddenly clicked… Sasha, might have the journal.  Not Sasha the Swiftie stan… Sasha Spielberg.  She went to Brown with Emma Watson… didn’t she?  Billie remembered it being mentioned in conversation at some party after a show she played a couple of years ago.  And they’re both into journaling.  I bet Emma’s backup plan is to hand it off to Sasha.  The Whale is trying to get an in, he’s trying to cover his bases.  He’s manipulating, calculating, trying to stay one step ahead.  It’s all tables turned… one would think most people might want to befriend Sasha Spielberg to get an “in” with her dad… Steven himself… and here The Whale is befriending her dad to try and get an “in” with Sasha.  He knows Emma Watson wants out of Hollywood and he’s trying to stay one step ahead of her Hollywood exit strategy, her plan to escape—escape the constant control over her life, the constant worry that The Strangies will come crawling through her bedroom window in the middle of the night.  But just like Princess Sheikha Latifa, why does Emma Watson even need an escape plan in the first place?  Why does anyone need an exit plan from unhappiness?  Maybe The Whale needed Emma to stay in Hollywood, just like Princess Latifa isn’t free to simply go her own way… but why?  How exactly did everything piece together?  Billie wasn’t sure and what shew knew was mostly based on scrolling through sites and reading random stuff on the internet on her phone when she couldn’t sleep at night, like we all do, or staring at the bedroom window expecting The Strangies to press their face against the glass.  The things you read right before you drift off to sleep, and then when you wake you think, maybe I didn’t really read that?  Or maybe what I read wasn’t real?  Maybe she had it all wrong, and maybe not.  Perhaps, Jillie Jean might prove useful in all of this after all.  Jillie jean is not just another fan, another stan, Jillie Jean might be a useful one.

Billie waved Kymmie aside and broke back into the conversation between the two potential future roomies, provided they were both accepted at Brown University.

“Who are your parents? Are they in the conference?”  She asked her stan really seriously, Billie seriously.

“Eh, they’re in the movie industry.  They do, like, important stuff… It’s not important—”

“Listen, Jillie… I need to know as much as you can tell me… ”  

Jillie thought for a moment, “I just know they got some invite and got all excited.  I’ll be honest, I don’t really know exactly what it is they do, I just know it’s important, like, really important, they meet with a lot of big time behind the scenes industry people—Listen, Lish, I didn’t come over here to talk about my parents, or that creepy old man and the sea, I came here to hang out with you.  I’m not trying to be my parents, I’m trying to be me.  I’m trying to make my own way in this world, so who cares who my parents are.  Yes, they’re kind of a big deal, but I want to do things on my own without their help.  Okay Lish?”

Billie looked at The Whale once more.  “Okay.  You can hang out with me.  It’s totally cool, and we can even work on that Lish Lish Wishlist of yours.”  Billie didn’t want to think of it as using her stan so much as protecting her stan.  She kind of felt obligated to make sure she didn’t end up going down a devilish path, as annoying as she was, she actually liked her—

“LISHY!  I knew you’d come around.”  Jillie Jean made a high-pitched squealing noise.

—Well… maybe.  Maybe Billie liked her number one stan.  Billie Eilish smiled at the wannabe mini-me version of her.  “Alright, Mini-Lish, just stick with me.”  Billie joked.

Jillie stepped back, “Don’t call me Mini-Lish.”  Jillie said in a mean green jelly bean voice.

“Whoa.  What?  Why not?”  Billie replied, caught off guard, “Well, that’s kind of a double STAN-dard.  Don’t you think?  Eh, eh??”

“Ohhhhhh.  Lish, you’re funny.  I call you Lish, you call me Jillie… But don’t call me Mini-Lish.  Don’t ever call me Mini-Lish, ever.”

These stans are out of control, am I right?  I take back my thought about liking my stan… maybe.

@taylorswift

[thisway-imagines]

close encounters (berkut + #35)

35) we’re neighbours who don’t talk because you seem awfully grumpy but then you buy your dog a winter coat and shoes and i need a photo to show my friends

this is for you, @sol-sunshine!! this was meant to be a christmas gift but god writing is HARD. i honestly love you to the moon and back, and you’re such a blessing that i adore so much. your laughter is so contagious and you really are a beam of sunshine in my life. here’s some berkut B)

i made him soft because.... god he’s so soft with rinea.... 

It was another cold, December day - you were walking home from your campus back to your own little area as the snow gently fell onto the ground and the streets were finally quiet for once due to the ice. You sighed softly against your scarf, exhaling out a visible puff of air away as you shivered and snuggled against your scarf and jumper even further. It was surprising to see how still the atmosphere seemed to be today - you had gotten out earlier than usual today, so that might have contributed to how the silents the area seemed today.

For the most part, your neighborhood was a fairly friendly one. The community seemed to get along fine mostly, and you had no trouble chatting to the acquaintances around. But there was one neighbor who refused to open up to anyone, no matter how kind you were or whether you needed help from him.

Berkut.

You had heard plenty of rumors about him when you passed by the old women and teenagers who tend to gossip about the man – he lived in quite a luxurious place, yet couldn’t seem to share any of his aid with anyone else. The people chattered about him quite often, for no one really knew who Berkut truly was – and neither did you.

But what you knew was he was quite the sight to behold.

A smile tugged your lips when you recalled how you bumped into him that one time accidentally.

                                                           ---

You weren’t paying attention, for the wind was biting against your skin and all you wanted was to get home. Closing your eyes for a second, you shivered as you continued to walk – but right at that moment, it was unfortunate for you that you had accidentally walked right into someone…

“Fool! Can’t you watch where you’re going?!”

Shocked by the sharp voice in front of you, you snapped out of your stupor to see a man (who was quite handsome, you had to add) looking disgruntled and rather grumpy. “Oh, I’m sorry – I wasn’t quite noticing my surroundings due to the cold,” you apologized, “but there was no need to call me a fool.”

Letting out a harrumph, the man could only scoff. “You better notice your surroundings next time. I’m quite in a rush to get home – the weather is getting too cold for us.”

Us?

Suddenly, you heard a whine.

Peering below the man’s legs, you saw a little dog sitting on the pavement patiently; its little eyes staring back at you with curiosity, starting to walk up to you as it sniffed your leg curiously. It was a husky, still a small puppy from the size – and as you cooed and reached out to pet the pup, the man cleared his voice loudly to catch your attention. Now looking up, you realized that he no longer looked annoyed – he looked embarrassed instead 

“Come now, Velvet! No more dawdling here – it’s getting cold!”

Brushing past you somewhat roughly, the raven-haired man walked away (and looking even grumpier than before) – and when you stared back at the fleeting figure, his dog (Velvet, it seemed to be called) looked back at you until it walked alongside its owner again, both disappearing from your line of vision. 

What an odd man, you thought to yourself. He was rude but… there’s something about him that doesn’t seem like he’s all that bad either.

Arriving back to your home, you were surprised to see Alm by your door, seemingly waiting for you despite the cold. Once his eyes were set on your figure, he smiled widely.

“[Name]!” The green-haired boy greeted, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ve been waiting for you for a while now. What gives? Did you forget we had a project to do together?” 

Then everything clicked into your head – you did have a science project to finish together. You had totally forgotten about it until now; all you desperately wanted to do after getting out of campus was to go home and sleep. The biting cold and the odd (yet somewhat charming) man you bumped into had distracted you from your tasks, and you felt your face flush.

“Oh, I totally forgot – sorry!” You apologized immediately, but fumbled in your bag to get your keys out. “But let’s have this discussion inside – it’s freezing out here!” Laughing, Alm nodded as he waited for you to open the door. Once you both got into your house and you locked the door again, both of you kicked your shoes off and went to the living room to slump onto the couch.

“I’m so glad to be home,” you groaned loudly, “it’s been a long day.”

Alm laughed again, his bright smile always etched onto his face. “I think I can tell. What happened to you?”

You started off with a sigh, but you continued about how tiring your day was after your lesson with Alm, how cold the way back home was (your ride back home wasn’t here today, so you braved the weather for today, and how you met this handsome, raven-haired man with a cute dog named Velvet-

“Did… did you just say Velvet?” Alm suddenly sat up from his slumped position, looking at you with wide eyes. “That’s… that’s Berkut’s dog!”

Berkut?!

“Wait, did you just say Berkut-? How do you know him?” You asked incredulously, your eyes equally as wide as his.

“He’s my cousin! How do you know him?”

C-cousin.

“He’s the grumpy neighbor that’s next to my house! I’ve told you about him before, haven’t I? Berkut’s always the talk of the neighborhood!” You exclaimed, bouncing up from your position on the couch as well.

Your friend slapped his hand against his head, as if realizing something crucial just now. “I should’ve connected the dots together faster, haha! Well, that’s Berkut for you – we weren’t really on the best of terms before, but we’ve been meeting eye-to-eye better after a dispute we had,” now laughing sheepishly, Alm looked away from you. “No wonder this place looked familiar.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, staring at Alm’s averted eyes. “At least you two have amended things, right?” Hearing no reply from him, you asked something else. “Does Velvet love you?”

Brightening up significantly, Alm immediately replied: “Yeah. Berkut loves her a lot – and unlike her particularly grumpy owner, she’s quite fond of people as well. You know, when I first met her, she even jumped on me!”

As both of you laughed, you started to finally get up from your slouched position. “Let’s talk about this over snacks, shall we?” You grinned as you stood up, winking at your friend.

Alm whistled. “Soooo… you’re into him, huh?”

“Shut up!”

                                                          ---

A quiet chuckle was released from your lips as the memory resurfaced again, Alm’s teasing causing your face to grow hot despite the cold. It had been a while since you had encountered Velvet and Berkut at all - the winter had been harsher this time around, and so you thought it was reasonable to not encounter anyone at all around this time of day. 

It’s so quiet... how peaceful. You thought. It’s nice to recollect my thoughts at some point, huh?

Closing your eyes a little bit, you buried your face further into your scarf to stay warm once again when a cold breeze hit you suddenly; your vision temporarily darkened when suddenly-

“A-ah-!”

You were about to take a tumble on the snow when you bumped into someone again, but the said-person had held out an arm to catch you just in time-

-but you both ended up falling on the sidewalk, with the stranger falling on top of you unceremoniously. You let out a groan of pain as the person grumbled against you, both of you stunned for a moment until you felt something licking on your face.

As you opened your eyes, you were met with Berkut’s flushed face and wide-eyed stare temporarily until he jolts away from yourself - then it dawned on you.

Berkut fell on top of you.

Now you were the one that was red-faced and wide-eyed, still on the ground as you opened your mouth to apologize-

“You-!”

“Sorry-!”

As you both started to ramble on with your apologies and his scoldings, Velvet stood there as she wagged her tail happily - and when she licked your face, you stopped your ramblings immediately.

“Velvet, can’t you see I’m in the middle of-” Berkut had started, but the cute, fluffy thing had already clambered on top of you and licked your face with joy. Now giggling at her wet licks, you sat up so you wouldn’t be towered by the sweet dog that was smiling on top of you. 

“Velvet!” You called out as you rubbed your fingers against her neck, with Berkut’s eyes widening at how familiar you already were with his dog. “It’s good to see you again - and oooh! What are you wearing?!”

The sudden mood change felt like whiplash for the man standing in front of your grinning self and his over-friendly dog.

“Woooow! Look at your cute little kangaroo onesie! Did your owner get this for yoooou?” You cooed out your vowels as you continued to smoosh Velvet’s face as she panted and smiled happily in your touch - you continued to giggle and kiss her face. “I have to take a photo of you for my friends! They just have to see you...”

...until you suddenly heard a small “ehem” in front of you.

Berkut cleared his throat, looking slightly irked as he looked down on you. “Excuse me-”

Now suddenly realizing you were essentially playing with a stranger’s dog, you laughed awkwardly and put down Velvet (who continued to stay by your side despite that you had placed her beside you). You stood up to scratch the back of your head. “I’m [Name]. It’s nice to see you again,” you smile apologetically, “and I’m sorry for bumping into you earlier!”

The man was taken back for a moment, for he didn’t realize how... how...

...cute you were, looking all sheepish like that. It was at that moment he realized that you...

Berkut shook his head sharply.

“...Well, at least you are in sound condition,” He concluded, sighing as he put a hand up to his face. “My name is Berkut. What are you doing out here?” He pointed towards the weather in general. “No one is out here during these hours.”

Well, I can ask the same thing myself, Mr. Grumpypants! “I’m just walking home from school,” you sighed as you motioned to the snow, “trust me, if I could stay cooped up in my house, I would right now.”

There was a sudden short, delightful laugh when you looked up again at Berkut - his smile existed, and it had gone too fast for it to register in your brain.

But you couldn’t help but be charmed.

“I see,” the smile disappears, but the tone in his voice still mirthful. “Velvet here still needs a walk outside, always,” the German Shepard whines in response, “and it must always be around this time. Can’t have it any other way - she’s too spoiled.”

As you laughed in response to his answer, you suddenly realized that... Berkut wasn’t really all that bad. Why would the neighbors talk about how grumpy and miserable he is while he was clearly laughing with you here, speaking so fondly of his (adorably dressed-up) dog? The thoughts ran rapidly inside your head, as you stood there in silence after the laughter died deep in thought, and-

“Achoo!”

You sneezed.

Berkut jumped slightly in surprise, but then relaxed again as he looked at you. “Ah, it must be getting colder,” he thought for a moment in silence just like you did before, his face as if pondering to find the right words to say. “Are you getting colder as well, Velvet?”

He bent down and let out his hand for her to beckon towards. She walked to him in response, nuzzling up against his outstretched palm for warmth.

“Then, I guess it’s time to go home,” he smiled softly at Velvet, ruffling her fur softly as she let out her own doggy-smile. As you stood there in quiet admiration of the cute scene unfolding in front of you, Berkut cleared his throat for the final time and this time, offered his hand toward you.

“Perhaps we could get to know each other more over tea and not through bumping each other once again?”

Your heart stopped for a moment as you looked at him with surprised eyes.

And daresay, lovestruck?

“O-of course. I’d love to get to know my next-door neighbor more, huh?”

He smiled again, and this time you finally captured it.

“Wonderful.”

[cheesygrayson-blog]

You Have No Right to Cry Right Now - Grayson

Ok, soooo I saw a post full of sentence starters posted by @dimply-dolan and I decided to do one??? I only spent a couple hours on this (to put that in to perspective, I have an imagine that I’ve been working on since January that I’m not even close to finishing) so it’s really short and not that good (not that anything I write is good lmao). I did intend for it to be even shorter than it is but I don’t know how to end things so this ends kind of abruptly ALSO this is the first imagine (imagine? blurb? what’s the difference) I’ve ever posted so??? Idk

Warnings: cheating, angst, kinda sad?

Word count: 2,346

"Oh my God," were the only words that managed to tumble out of your lips. You turned around and slammed the door behind you, not wanting to look at the scene in front of you anymore. You walked down the hall to the kitchen, leaning your forearms against the cool granite countertop, waiting for the shit storm that was surely brewing for the two of you.

You had gotten off work early that day, and walked in to your bedroom to see your boyfriend of almost two years tangled up with some other girl. You recognized her as one of the models that he'd done a shoot with a few days before. He wasn't a model himself, but he was an influencer, so he crossed paths with them from time to time.

"(Y/N)!" you heard him yell from behind the closed door. You heard some fumbling around and more muffled words before the door burst open, revealing a disheveled looking Grayson Dolan. You watched him speed walk down the hall towards you, still trying to finish buttoning his jeans. He didn't even bother with the buttons on his shirt, leaving it hanging open to display his well muscled torso. "Babe," he breathed, sounding winded.

"What's wrong Grayson? Tough workout?" you sassed.

"Baby, listen, I'm sorry-"

"Shut up. I don't want to hear it. And stop calling me baby," you pushed yourself off of the counter and walked back towards the bedroom, walking in to see the girl who'd just been fucking your boyfriend still sitting on your bed, now fully dressed.

"Get out of my house," you said in a monotone voice. She quickly stood up and exited the room without putting up a fight. You waited until you heard the front door open and close before you did anything else. Once you heard the click of the handle, you went to your closet and started throwing clothes into a backpack. You didn't even look at what you were packing, you were just trying to fill the bag as quickly as possible.

"Babe, no, stop, you don't have to go anywhere," Grayson pleaded, trying to pull the bag from your hands.

"I told you to stop calling me that," you growled, ripping the bag from his hands and walking over to your shared bathroom. You started throwing your toiletries in the bag right on top of your clothes, not caring if anything got wet or if your shampoo opened in the process. "I really don't want to see you right now, Grayson."

"Ba- (Y/N), really, please. You don't have to leave," he grabbed your wrists, stilling your motions. You tried to pull out of his grasp, but his grip was tight. Not tight enough to hurt you, but enough so that you couldn't escape. "I'll go stay with Ethan tonight. You stay here. Please don't go."

You looked into his eyes and gave him your best death glare. "You really expect me to stay here and sleep in the bed that you just used to cheat on me?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know what happened, it just-"

"You don't know what happened?" you let out a humorless laugh at his statement. "I think you and I both know what happened, sweetheart."

"It was just the heat of the moment-"

"Oh, please," you were full on yelling at him at this point. "The heat of the moment, get real. The moment wouldn't have had any heat if she wasn't even here in the first place. Why did you invite her over, Grayson? Because it sure as hell wasn't to hang out and play video games like old buddies."

"I didn't invite her over, she just showed up!"

"You didn't have to let her in! And how did she even know our address?"

That one stumped him. He looked down at his feet and bit the inside of his cheek, looking guilty. "That's what I thought," you said. You realized Grayson was still holding your wrists, so you pulled on them again, only for him to grip them even tighter, causing a sharp pain to shoot through your wrists.

"You're hurting me," you said. Grayson's eyes widened and he instantly dropped your hands.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, baby please just listen to me-" you cut him off when you noticed tears about to spill out of his eyes.

"No. Stop. You have no right to cry right now. You did this. You're the one that fucked up."

"I know, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done it, just please don't leave me," he was full on sobbing now, and despite the pinch you felt in your chest from seeing him so upset, you couldn't feel bad for him.

"Please (Y/N), I ne-ed you, I love you s-so much," he said through choked sobs. You could feel the burning behind your eyes indicating that your tears were threatening to make an appearance, but you refused to let him see you vulnerable. Not after what he'd done.

"Stop crying, Grayson," you said, resenting the thick sound of tears in your voice. You picked up your backpack and zipped it, fully intending to be out of the house before any emotion made itself known on your face. You were about to turn around and walk away from him when you were stopped by Grayson falling to his knees and wrapping his arms tightly around your waist.

"No, don't go," he cried into your stomach, leaving tear stains on your shirt.

"Let go of me," you insisted, your own tears dangerously close to forming in your eyes.

"No, I don't want you to leave. You can't leave me alone," he sniffled, giving no indication that his crying would stop any time soon. You took his face in your hands so he was looking at you. Your heart broke even more seeing his bloodshot eyes and tear stained face, but you forced yourself to stay strong. You couldn't feel bad for him, you could not let yourself show any weakness.

"You don't want to be alone tonight?" you asked, wiping the tears from under his eyes with your thumb. He shook his head and leaned his face further into your touch.

"Then maybe you should call your little side hoe. I'm sure she'd be happy to come back and finish what you started."

With that, you ripped yourself out of his grip and made a beeline out the door to your car. You could hear him wailing from inside the house, but you didn't feel bad for him. In fact, the sound just fueled the anger bubbling beneath your skin. You sped out of the driveway and didn't look back, pulling out your phone to call your friend and ask if you could crash on her couch for a few nights.

It wasn't until after you had finished your phone conversation, and you were already driving down the highway, that you allowed your tears to fall. You couldn't tell if you were crying out of anger or self pity, but whatever the reason, you couldn't get the tears to stop.

And they didn't stop, not when you reached your friend's apartment, not when you were watching chick flicks and eating ice cream, and not when the two of you were getting ready for bed. Your eyes didn't dry until you were laying on the couch staring at the ceiling, well past midnight, when you were finally all cried out. Grayson had been sending you texts, snapchats, and calls, but you ignored all of them. You even turned on your read receipts so he'd know you were intentionally ignoring him. You knew you were being petty, but you didn't care. He deserved it.

You were just about to fall asleep, your burning eyes finally starting to relax, when you heard a loud pounding at the door. You instantly knew it was Grayson, because who else would it be? You stayed where you were, hoping he would just leave, but after his fourth knock you heaved yourself off the couch and walked to the door, not wanting him to wake up (Y/F/N). You made your way to the door and opened it, just enough to see outside.

"(Y/N)," he sniffled.

"How did you know I was here?"

"Snap map."

You mentally scolded yourself for not going on ghost mode before asking another question. "How did you even get in to the building?"

"Waited for someone else to leave and caught the door," he said, tears still running down his face. "Can I come in?" he asked, pushing on the door.

"No, Grayson," you used your body to block him from opening the door any further. "(Y/F/N) is sleeping, you need to leave."

"N-no," he blubbered, pushing the door open and forcing himself inside. He pulled you in to his chest, and that's when you smelled the alcohol on him.

"Grayson, are you drunk?"

He hesitated before answering. "No."

"Are you really lying to me right now?"

"Okay fine, maybe I'm a little drunk, I'm sorry," he said, starting to cry even harder.

"Grayson, please tell me you didn't drive here," you sighed, praying he hadn't been that stupid.

"I took an Uber," he mumbled into you hair, still holding you tight against his chest despite you making no moves to hug him back.

"Well call them to come back, because you need to leave," you pried his hands off of you and wiggled out of his grasp.

"No, baby please just come home with me," he begged through his tears. "I'm sorry, I learned my lesson, I'll never do it again, please come home."

"But you're not sorry, Grayson. You're sorry you got caught. You would have been perfectly fine fucking around with that girl behind my back if I never found out about it. Now, leave," you pushed on his chest, trying to get him out the door.

"No (Y/N), I'm really s-sorry, I don't kn-now what I was th-thinking," he said, his words sounding strangled due to how hard he was crying. "I swear I'll never cheat on you again, I lo-ove you so much."

"You're right, you won't ever cheat on me again. Because we are not together anymore," you said, trying to make your voice firm, but you could feel your fragile tough exterior starting to crack. You needed to get Grayson out before you started crying again.

"No baby," he sobbed. "We can work this out, we can get past this, I'm so sorry-"

"Grayson," your voice cracked, and it was like a dam burst. Tears started spilling out of your eyes and you couldn't control them. "I can't do this right now," you managed to choke out. "Please leave."

"Just take me home," he squeaked out through his tears. "We can sleep on it and talk in the morning, just come home with me," he begged.

You let out a shaky sigh, realizing you weren't going to get Grayson to leave by yourself. So, you led him over to the couch and sat down, letting him lay down and rest his head on your lap. While he had his arms around your waist, crying into your stomach, you discretely pulled out your phone and texted Ethan.

To: Ethan Dolan

Hey, I'm at (Y/F/N)'s. Can you come get your twin? Long story.

You kept your conversation open until he texted back, not wanting Grayson to hear it vibrate when his text came through. Luckily, you only had to wait a minute or two for him to respond.

From: Ethan Dolan

Sure, be there in 10

In the mean time, you ran your fingers through Grayson's hair and let him cry, while your own tears dripped down your chin and into his hair. It wasn't long before your phone buzzed beside you with a text from Ethan letting you know that he was outside, waiting to be buzzed in to the building. You started to stand up so you could buzz him in, but Grayson tightened his grip on you and looked up at you with panicked eyes.

"Where are you going?"

"Bathroom," you lied. Grayson reluctantly let go of you and lay back down. You snuck over to the keypad and pushed the button to unlock the door and stood there waiting for Ethan. You only had to wait for about a minute before there was a knock at the door. Grayson heard it, of course, and his head shot up over the back of the couch to see you opening the door for his brother.

"Nooo," he groaned, starting to cry again.

"What happened?" Ethan asked, eyeing his crying brother along with your tear stained face.

"He'll tell you," you said flatly, not wanting to get in to it. Ethan walked over to the couch and sat beside Grayson, slinging an arm over his shoulders.

"Come on buddy, time to go," Ethan tried to pull him off the couch, but he just slumped forward and put his head in his hands, sobs shaking his body.

"I don't want to go," he cried softly.

"I know, but it's time," Ethan stood up and pulled Grayson to his feet. Defeated, he shuffled towards the door with his head down, softly sniffling and whimpering the whole time.

You opened the door for them, ready for this night to be over with. Ethan walked out ahead of Grayson, who turned to look at you before exiting. He pulled you in to his chest once more, crushing you between his arms. You finally gave in and hugged him back, giving him one last goodbye.

You didn't know how long you stood there, but you were the first to let go. Grayson reluctantly loosened his grip on you after you let your arms fall, all while Ethan waited patiently for the two of you to finish your goodbye.

"Bye, Grayson," you whispered.

His lip quivered and he took a shaky breath before replying.

"Bye, (Y/N)."