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paterson-blue · 3 years

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Honey, You're Familiar (Like My Mirror Years Ago); Part 3

Part 3: The Date

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5

Summary: Things don't go exactly to plan. Clyde stresses.

Word Count: 4,010

Warnings: fluff, spice, grumpy Clyde Logan, pouty boy (but he's still in love), sentimentalism, sickly sweet pet names, smoochin', grindin', oral sex (male receiving), cum on body (not in!), original female character–let me know if I need to add anything else!

A/N: Thanks again to @paper-n-ashes for being my beta reader & quelling all my writing jitters. You're the absolute best!

Prefer AO3? I gotcha!

It’s a fuckin’ disaster.

Starts out nice. Juniper shows up on his doorstep wearin’ a slinky little black dress, one that shows off her curves and makes Clyde’s mouth go dry. She tells him he looks handsome and he feels giddy. He sweeps his newly styled hair out of his face, sayin’ she looks absolutely stunnin’. Juniper beams, grabs his hand, tells him they better get a move on ‘fore they’re late.

They’re late. They’re later than late.

They aren’ five minutes outta town when lightenin’ starts to streak across the sky. Clyde shifts uneasily, eyes cast upward towards the swirling heavens. It’s rainin’ cats and dogs in no time and Juniper has to slow to half the speed limit to drive safely. Clyde’s thoughts go to the river up ahead, the one the road crew was still tryna’ re-stabilize since the last storm flooded it.

Fifteen minutes from their destination and they have t’pull to a stop on the highway, suddenly blocked in a jam. Flashin’ red and blue lights indicate an accident up front, and while Clyde spares a thought to whoever was involved, he can’t help but check the time. They aren’ gonna make their reservation, he just knows it.

The car behind ‘em lays on its horn, the sound makin’ both Clyde & Juniper jump. The driver either doesn’ seem to understand the concept of bein’ stuck or plain just don’ care. Clyde clenches his jaw, glowerin’ into the rear view mirror—he can only see the driver’s silhouette behind the bright glow of the headlights. He’s keepin’ his cool until the driver reaches his arm out, in the pourin’ rain an’ all, just t’give Juniper the finger.

Clyde’s unbucklin’ his belt quick as can be, chest heavin’ as he reaches for the door handle. He’s ‘bout ready to stomp to the car and yank the man out.Teach ‘im a lesson on manners, teach ‘im t’treat a lady like—

“Clyde.” Juniper stops him in his tracks with just his name on her lips. He looks over at her from under his hair, expression tense. She reaches up to caress his cheek, holdin’ his face in her little palm so sweetly, thumb brushin’ over the sharp line of his jaw. “Leave him be. It’s not worth gettin’ into trouble.”

Clyde deflates, honey brown eyes downcast. He sounds miserable when he speaks. “… We’re gonna miss dinner.”

“I know, sugar. It’s okay.”

His heart flutters in his broad chest despite his distress. She’d called him ‘sugar.’ He likes that; wants to hear it again real soon.

By the time they get through all the traffic and make it to the restaurant, their reservation is indeed gone, table havin’ been given away. They stand together just outside the building, under the little awning in an attempt to stay out of the rain.

Clyde huffs, so morose that he’s unable to enjoy the way she was pressed up against his side. “M’sorry.”

Juniper frowns, reachin’ up to pat his stomach gently. “You stop that. You haven’t done anything to be sorry for.”

Clyde shakes his head sadly, heavin’ out a sigh. “It’s the Logan Family Curse.”

She looks up at him, brows arched, her hand still settled on his belly. “Oh is it now?”

He nods, brows pinched together. Juniper reaches for his hand, pulling it to her lips and pressin’ a kiss to his knuckles. “You aren’t cursed, Clyde Logan. And if you are, I’m perfectly happy to be cursed right along with you.”

Clyde doesn’ quite know how to respond to that, but luckily, he doesn’t have to right away. Juniper moves her lips to the pads of his large fingers, kissin’ ‘em gently before lettin’ him pull his hand away. Clyde cradles her pretty face in his palm, takin’ the time to admire her. Finally, he speaks. “Thank you, darlin’. That’s mighty nice of you t’say.”

Juniper nuzzles into his touch, sighin’ happily; it makes Clyde feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“I’m only saying what’s true. Now c’mon. I know it’s a Friday night but there’s bound to be somewhere we can eat.”

They end up findin’ an old fashioned drive-in burger place, somewhere they can park and eat in the car out of the rain. It’s not where Clyde wants to take her; she deserves to be wined and dined all proper, not greasy burgers and milkshakes. But Juniper doesn’ seem to mind; as soon as they’re parked she’s squintin’ up at the menu, a big smile on her face.

“This all sounds so fucking good.” She giggles, lookin’ over at him. It makes the disappointment in Clyde’s chest fade away, and he leans over the center console to peer out the window to see what choices they were offered. It puts him in her space, and Juniper leans in to press a gentle kiss to his temple. He blushes, his cheeks only getttin’ hotter when she brushes some of his hair out of his face. He desperately wants to kiss her but he doesn’ know if it’s the right time.

He’s finally acceptin’ the night’s change of plans—finally acceptin’ that this might be good, burgers and fries while dressed up nice, watchin’ the rain pour from the safety of Juniper’s little Corolla—when the carhop comes out to tend to them. Clyde’s already diggin’ into his wallet as Juniper rattles off their order; he holds his debit card out, arm reachin’ over Juniper’s lap.

The carhop doesn’ move for the card. Instead, they say “Card machine’s down. Cash only.” in what Clyde thinks is possibly the most bored tone they could muster. He tries not to bristle as he fumbles with his wallet for a second time, patience already worn thin from the night’s events. He’s only got a fifty in his billfold. The fifty.

Their fifty.

He hesitates, even though he knows it’s irrational; Jimmy always did tell him he was too damn sentimental for his own good. Juniper must realize—she always does, Clyde never seems to have to explain himself to her—because she grabs her purse from the floorboard. Clyde stops her, shakin’ his head as he tugs the fifty dollar bill out. “S’alright, darlin’. Y’told me t’save it for a rainy day.”

Juniper’s face softens at his words, and Clyde hands the money over to the carhop, who looks like they want to be literally anywhere else. Soon Clyde’s been given his change, and he quickly puts it back up. As soon as he’s done Juniper’s reachin’ for him, pullin’ him in by his collar. Clyde goes willingly, twistin’ in his seat to move his prosthetic to the middle of her back, arm wrapped around her.

“I’ll give you another one.” She tells him firmly, and Clyde huffs out a laugh.

“Well that’d be awful silly of ya, Junebug. You’ll run outta money real quick if y’keep givin’ it all t’me.” He tries to soothe her with a joke, wantin’ to let her know that it was alright. Sure, it had been special to him—reminded him of their meetin’—but it was just a piece a’ paper. What was a piece a’ paper when he had the most important thing right here in front a’ him?

He wants to curl up further into her, but their positions don’t allow for it—the vehicle doesn’ exactly allow for him to move his long limbs much a’ anywhere. If this was as close as he could get, he was satisfied. Juniper shifts suddenly, eyes trained on him as she leans closer. They share a breath, then two, and then she’s pressin’ her mouth against his.

It’s nothin’ if not chaste. Clyde gets the feelin’ she doesn’ exactly want to neck in the front seat of her car like teenagers—at least not in plain view of the drive-in’s staff and other patrons. Just a gentle kiss, a little more than a peck; firm and lingerin’ just enough that he knows it happened. Juniper follows it up with another one at the corner of mouth, their noses pressin’ against one another’s cheeks.

It’s more than enough for Clyde; more than enough to get his pulse to sky rocket. He can’t remember the last time he’s been treated so gently, so much love in such a small movement. She gives him a smile when she pulls away, and they both sit back in their seats, starin’ all heart-eyed at one another. She takes the metal of his hand in hers, holdin’ it, and Clyde thinks maybe he should reconsider the whole curse thing.

They head back home after finishin’ their meal, the storm slowly peterin’ off as they get closer to Clyde’s trailer. Juniper walks him to his door, gigglin’ when she offers him her arm to escort him. He takes it, grinnin’ like a fool as they stomp up the front steps. They stand there under the yellow porch light, humid heat surroundin’ ‘em. Clyde usually hated the humidity, but not when it was like this, creatin’ such a hazy, intimate bubble around ‘em. Juniper drops her arm, but only to reach for Clyde’s flesh hand, holdin’ it in both of hers.

“I had a really nice time tonight, Clyde. Best date I’ve ever been on—and I mean that.”

Clyde can feel himself blushin’, a pleased smile turnin’ his lips up. “I had a good time, too. Wouldja—wouldja wanna do it again? Sometime soon?”

“Yes.” She answers almost before he can finish askin’, and they both laugh. There’s a beat, a pause, a breath, and then Juniper is leanin’ up the same moment Clyde’s leanin’ down. It’s a relief when their lips touch, like the first drink a’ water in the mornin’. Clyde thinks he’s been parched his whole life and never even knew it.

Juniper’s the one who deepens it, the one who drops his hand to lean into him, to thread her fingers through his thick hair, holdin’ him close. And fuck, Clyde isn’ gonna fight it. He wraps his arm around her, prosthetic against her back as his hand moves to hold her face. His palm envelops her cheek, thumb under her chin to keep her head lifted. They kiss and kiss, and when she makes a little whine in the back of her throat Clyde swears he’s floatin’.

When she pulls away to breathe he makes a sound of his own, a disappointed little groan that she huffs out a laugh at. He’d be embarrassed if she wasn’ nuzzlin’ her nose against his cheek like she can’t get enough.

“Those lips a’ yours aren’t fair.” She murmurs, and Clyde hums, strokin’ his thumb along her jawline. He doesn’ want this to end, he thinks for possibly the thousandth time that night. He doesn’ wanna let her get back in her car an’ drive across town, over the train tracks, past the antique shop, until she gets to the bed & breakfast.

He wants her right here, and he’s never been the one in this position, but he doesn’ hesitate when he asks her, “D’y’wanna come in?”

She nods, and it sets his chest aflame. They straighten up, untanglin’ themselves from one another even as she leans into his side, not wantin’ t’be too far. Clyde’s hands shake as he unlocks the front door but he doesn’ care if she sees. He wants her to see, wants her to know what she’s doin’ t’him. Maybe then...maybe she won’t leave.

Clyde flicks on the lights, closin’ the door behind both of ‘em. He watches as Juniper assesses his things: his clumsily cleaned living area, the small kitchenette that was (thankfully) decluttered. The hallway leads back to the bathroom, and then his bedroom, but Clyde doesn’ dare look towards it, much less lead her that way. Instead, he steps towards the fridge, hand reachin’ out to brush against the door.

“Want anythin’ t’drink?” He asks, voice quiet, as if nervous to disturb the silence. Juniper shoots him a smile, shakin’ her head as she perches on the couch.

“No, I’m okay, thank you.”

Clyde nods, lingerin’ there even though he doesn’ want a drink neither. Her eyes look him over, amusement showin’ in them.

“Why don’t you c’mere? If you want, of course.”

He wants. Oh, how he wants. So he goes, movin’ across the distance between them in three long strides until he can sit himself next to her. He’s stock straight, heart thrummin’ in his chest; his nice button-down feels all tight against his skin, too itchy. He thinks only her touch’ll soothe it, but doesn’ wanna ask her. Juniper, however, reads his mind; she always can. She smoothes a hand over his jean-clad thigh, leanin’ in ever so slowly, like she’s gonna startle him if she moves too fast. Clyde’s breath catches in his throat as she kisses him again, and it's heaven, it's heaven.

It’s different from in the car, from on the porch. This time there’s more purpose to it. Juniper’s kissin’ him—tastin’ him— like he belongs to her, and Clyde thinks maybe it's because she knows he does. He’s tryna’ angle his body just right, tryin’ t’lean down without puttin’ a crick in his neck. Not that he’d care much, if he did--a crick was worth this, worth the feelin’ of her tongue brushin’ against his bottom lip, against his teeth.

Juniper makes a frustrated little noise, pullin’ back, and Clyde’s brows furrow in confusion.

“Wha--Wha’s--?” He stammers out, flesh hand flexin’ on her waist, the silky fabric of her dress feelin’ so soft and cool against his skin. Juniper’s lips are plush and kiss bitten; Clyde tries to take a picture of ‘em in his memory, eyes trained on their pretty color. He almost misses her question. Scratch that, he does miss her question; has to very ineloquently say “huh?” to get her to repeat it. She ducks her head, voice shy.

“Can I, uh--get in your lap?”

Shit. Shit. Clyde nearly feels dizzy for all the blood rushin’ down south. It makes him a little self-conscious; she’s not gonna want t’sit on his lap and have his cock pressin’ into her all demandin’ like. But damn, his little Junebug looks so eager, her eyes darker than he’s ever seen ‘em, and like he’d said: he wants. So he just nods, barely breathin’.

Juniper shifts, pushin’ him into the back of the couch and he goes easily, willingly. She hikes her dress up her legs and Clyde gets a barely there peek of dark green lace before she’s straddlin’ his lap. He moans, can’t fuckin’ help it, and Juniper dives in to capture the sound with her mouth. Her hands are on his face, in his hair, fingers rubbin’ the shells of his ears—he’s surrounded, he’s drownin’, suffocatin’. He’s never felt so alive.

His own hands are placed chastely on either one of her hips, though he knows his flesh hand must be grippin’ her somethin’ fierce. The thought flashes in his mind, of him leavin’ little fingerprint shaped bruises on her skin for her to feel the next day. It makes him shiver underneath her.

Juniper takes and takes, and Clyde lets her. Clyde wants to be taken, in whatever way she’ll have him. Suddenly she’s pullin’ away just enough to suck in a little air, lips still brushin’ against his. He presses his long nose into the soft skin of her cheek, breath hot between them. When Juniper speaks, her voice is strained.

“Touch me, Clyde. Please.”

He doesn’ hesitate. His good hand moves from her hip to her ass, grabbin’, kneadin’ as he pulls her tighter against him. She lets out the prettiest noise Clyde thinks he’s ever heard, and his lips find her neck as his other arm comes around to hold her close. God, she tastes so good; her perfume fills his head until he feels dizzy with it.

She's pressed flush to him like this, grindin’ her hips against his. Clyde’s hard and leakin’ in his brand new jeans and the only thing he can think of is hearin’ her little noises again. Her hands are back in his hair, pullin’ at it, sweepin’ it away from his face so he doesn’ get tangled in it as his mouth makes a hot path down the neckline of her dress.

It feels so damn good that Clyde doesn’ realize she’s tryin’ to get his attention until she yanks on his tresses, his scalp burnin’ from it. Honestly he thinks he groans, rough and wild in his throat, the pain shootin’ straight to his cock. But it makes him look at her, and she holds him from divin’ back into her skin.

“Clyde I wanna—I wanna taste you. Is that okay? Can I?”

Lord Almighty above. That should be his line, it really should. But how can he argue with her? He’d give her anythin’ she wanted, anythin’. And she wanted—wanted to put her mouth on him. Clyde spares a thought for all the trimmed and proper men he’s seen in porn, how much nicer they looked, how Juniper deserved the best. West coast mean surely didn’ look the way he did. But then,“Yes,” he’s sayin’, voice ragged, “yes.”

And she’s slippin’ out of his lap onto the floor between his legs. Clyde’s heart pinches, and he leans forward to pick her right back up. To say “oh, darlin’, y’don’ need to be on the hard floor like that. Lemme stand an’ you c’n sit right back on these here pillows.” But before he can get his legs under him she's pressin’ her face between ‘em, nuzzlin’ into the scratchy fabric of his jeans, right up against his cock. Clyde’s brain short circuits.

“Been wantin’ this.” Juniper murmurs, small hands workin’ at his belt, and Clyde arches his hips up, tryin’ t’help her get his jeans off. He can’t believe this—can’t believe this is happenin’. She tugs his jeans and pants down his legs, just enough that his cock is revealed. Clyde clumsily unbuttons the first couple buttons at the bottom of his shirt, not wantin’ to get the new fabric messy. Juniper seems to like his idea; she sighs and leans forward to press her lips to the bare skin of his stomach.

“Sweetheart.” Clyde whispers, voice all trembly. He stretches out a little, givin’ her more access to his pale abdomen. Her lips are so soft against his skin, against the dark trail of hair leadin’ down, down, down. She follows it, nosin’ to the crook of his thigh, teeth scrapin’ deliciously ‘fore she turns her attention to his cock—already plump and stiff, and very interested in her ministrations. She wraps a hand around it and Clyde’s breath catches in his throat. She studies his cock, gives it a gentle stroke, thumb rubbin’ at the velvety head.

“You’re so big.” Her voice is quiet, but it startles Clyde all the same—he’s been transfixed by the vision in front of him.

“O-Oh, I-m, uh—“

He’s attemptin’ to apologize—his first instinct, really. But his brain isn’t really functionin’ all that well, and then she’s leanin’ in to lave her tongue over his slit. Clyde groans, a sound comin’ deep from his chest as he zeros in on the pretty pink of her soft, wet tongue. Juniper hums as if she’s pleased, a little smile on her face, and then she’s slippin’ her mouth over his cock in earnest.

Clyde’s head drops back against the couch pillow, lungs strugglin’ to suck in air. Oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck—it felt so good. She was gorgeous, she was perfect, she was a fucking angel doin’ this for him. She couldn’ take all of him into her mouth but goddamn she was tryin’. It didn’ matter—even if she wasn’ usin’ her hand to make up the difference, Clyde thinks he could cum just from seein’ her there between his legs, her silky soft lips on his skin.

He moves with her—not in a way where he’s pushin’ her or askin’ for more, but in a way where she’s pullin’ him; she’s the ebb and flow of the tide and he follows her willingly. His back arches, toes curlin’ up in his boots; his prosthetic settles on top of her free hand where it was grippin’ one of his large thighs. His other hand is too busy grippin’ the couch cushions to do much else. He’s lost to it—to her—an’ he doesn’ wanna be found.

It’s over far too quickly, embarrassingly so—it even surprises him. He’s ridin’ the high of his pleasure and his orgasm hits him so hard and fast that Clyde barely has any time t’warn her. All he can do is make a frantic noise, her name garbled in his throat as he quickly tries to push her off a’ him. But it’s too late—he’s cummin’ the same time that she’s pullin’ away, and Clyde can only watch in an odd mix of both arousal and horror as his cum paints her chin, neck, and cleavage.

Juniper’s mouth is held open in a surprised little ‘o’ shape, brows arched, and Clyde feels fuckin’ humiliated.

“J-Juniper, darlin’, m’so sorry, I—“ He scrabbles behind him for the throw blanket layin’ across the back of the couch, tuggin’ it into his lap so he can clean his mess off a’ her skin. He’s quick to tend to the spend on her cleavage first, hyperaware of how close it was to the fabric of her pretty black dress. “I’m sorry, I tried t’warn ya but it was too—“

“Clyde, it’s okay.” Her voice is all raspy and Clyde bites back a moan at the sound of it. She was so fuckin’ sexy, fuckin’ flawless. He’d cum all over her, messy and wild, and she was still lookin’ at him like he’d hung the damn moon. She pulls herself to standin’, and Clyde’s gaze dips down to where her knees were all red from kneelin’. Just another thing he didn’ know he found hot until now.

“But I guess it’s a little dangerous to keep this on, huh?”

His gaze snaps up to her face when she speaks, and she’s wearin’ a grin, eyes alight. Then she’s twistin’ her arms around, wrigglin’ out of that cute little dress until it graces the linoleum floor. She bends down to pick it up, drapin’ it carefully over one of the kitchen chairs. She moves like it’s nothin; like the sight of her in her heels and underwear ain’ makin’ his cock try to thicken up again.

“Yer so beautiful.” He tells her, gaze trained on her as she walks back over to him. Clyde feels so small with her standin’ in front of him; feels vulnerable even if he was still mostly dressed. Juniper steps out of her heels slowly, placin’ them to the side before leanin’ in, restin’ her hands on the back of the couch on either side of his head so she can kiss him.

Clyde runs his flesh hand over her bare waist, down the swell of her hip, toyin’ with the band of her underwear. He doesn’t push it down; he won’t without her permission. It’s enough to kiss her like this, soft and lazy, feelin’ her skin underneath his. He feels all gooey and happy from his orgasm, even if it had come sooner than he’d have liked.

He sighs into her mouth, content; chases her lips when she pulls away. Juniper starts to work on the buttons of his shirt, and he sits up to help her ease it off a’ his shoulders. She folds it neatly, settin’ it to the side; Clyde forces himself to speak, tryin’ to get his brain back in workin’ order. “D’y’wanna—wanna go back to the bedroom? You c’n lay down and I’ll—I’ll take care a’ ya.”

He thinks he sounds all awkward and silly, but Juniper gives him a warm smile, and his insecurities fade. She was always comfortin’ him, whether she knew it or not. She places one last lingerin’ kiss to his lips before noddin’ at him. “I’d like that.”

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taglist friends!

@paper-n-ashes @glassbxttless @mariesackler @leatherboundbirate @millenialcatlady @jynzandtonic @peachyproserpina

#clyde logan #clyde logan fic #clyde logan x ofc #logan lucky #clyde logan smut #clyde logan fluff #clyde logan x oc #adcu #feedback always welcome & appreciated!#clyde logan x original female character #tori writes

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no-whump-on-main · 3 years

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Apartment 307-8 (Grabbed by the hair)

Hi guys!! I'm so sorry it took me so long to update. School and work have been crazy but luckily I'm out of school next week so I'll have much more time and be posting more frequently! Apologies for the short chapter, I have no idea why but it just kicked my butt lol. I tried doing some cool multimedia stuff, I hope you enjoy! This is @sableflynn's BTHB request, grabbed by the hair.

TWs: Creepy, possessive whumper, mention of branding, also this chapter made me sad bc I love my mom and Elora's mom is sad so warning for that lmao

Elora was still lying there crying hours later. The tears had slowed from her initial keening sobs, but they still fell steadily down her face, accumulating in a small puddle on the tile by her head. She could see a bit of her reflection in the salty water; just her eyes, mostly. She saw green eyes that had once been so full of hope and life that were fading, the slow abandonment of hope almost making them gray out. She wanted to lie there forever, staring into her own eyes, until oblivion took her. If she cleared her head enough, she could pretend she was elsewhere, somewhere warm and loving; the blanket draped over her body did help with the fantasy, though she always knew somewhere in the back of her head that it was just that: a fantasy. She was still here. With him.

Clyde tried to give her time to recover, but his patience wore eventually. He began to get antsy after a few hours of watching her lie there, doing nothing but cry. Admittedly, he did enjoy it at first-seeing her so weak, so docile, because of him-but it eventually grew tiresome. Watching each tear drip down into the puddle became like watching paint dry.

He stood up abruptly. Elora was startled by the motion, flinching before stilling and watching him very carefully. What was he going to do?

“Get up,” he said simply.

Elora froze. She still felt sick, dizzy with pain and the lingering scent of her burning flesh in the bathroom. But why would he care about that? Why should she disobey him, when she knew what would happen?

Yet pride and pain got the better of her again.

“I can’t,” she whimpered. She felt weak. “I hurt. You hurt me.”

The piercing sound of a loud, sudden laugh began to echo through the bathroom. It reminded Elora of the laugh of a hyena. She winced.

“Darling, did you not think that was the point?”

Her expression hardened and her heart thumped in her chest. That was the point. She wanted to say something, but her mouth suddenly got dry.

The man simply grinned. “Get up,” he repeated, but she didn’t. She just laid there, dumbfounded.

He groaned angrily, rolling his eyes. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Be that way.”

He gathered up her hair in his hand, locked his fingers in a tight fist, and pulled up. Elora yelped and scrambled to get to her feet to relieve the pain, but he didn’t give her the chance; he carelessly dragged her off, out of the bathroom, through the hallway, and into the living room. She screamed and thrashed wildly, her hands desperately trying to push him away as her scalp burned like fire. Again and again, her feet scraped the ground to no avail, kicking and kicking but never able to gain enough traction to stand as she was mercilessly dragged. The man finally dropped her on the floor at the foot of a worn leather couch, releasing his death grip on her hair. Her hands immediately flew up to her head, applying gentle pressure to her scalp to try to ease the burning pain as she looked around the new room.

The living room was barren, like the man had half moved into it then given up. There was a dusty box in the corner, the couch, a worn coffee table, a small stand, and an old TV. Other than that, it was empty, in an eerie way. The aged carpet spanned the floor like an ocean.

The pressure didn’t do much and Elora dropped her hands, still wincing as the man plopped himself on the couch behind her, the leather making a loud crackling noise as he sat. She whipped her head around as her shoulders raised up to her ears instinctively. The man made a sour face, his features twisting into an ugly frown.

“Relax,” he commanded, forcefully pushing her shoulders down. At first, she tried to wiggle away, but that idea was abandoned when he tightened his grip, clearly as a warning. He grabbed the TV remote from the arm of the couch and turned it on. It started on some history channel documentary about cars, but Clyde quickly flipped through channels until he found the local news station.

A grin spread across his face as he read the blue banner spanning across the bottom of the screen. They were just in time.

UP NEXT: CAPE COD GIRL GOES MISSING; DESPERATE MOTHER PLEADS FOR HER RETURN

His hands wandered to Elora’s scalp and began to gently card through her hair. She inhaled sharply, and it took everything she had in her not to immediately shove him off. Somehow the gentleness felt worse than the pain; the false sense of care disgusted her. He was a maniac. He hurt her, he branded her, and now he was sitting on the couch petting her hair, pretending like none of it happened. It didn’t escape her attention how he set her on the floor instead of the couch, below him, like a dog.

The banner was bad enough, but she felt sick to her stomach when the station cut to a reporter sitting at a desk with a picture of her on half of the screen. It was the picture her mom took of her at the orchard last fall. It was candid; she remembered it. She was intently focused on a butterfly off on a tree, ignoring her mom as she snapped the photo. It was one of her favorite pictures of herself. And now, it was plastered all over the news.

The reporter on the TV began to speak. “Tonight, a desperate mother pleads for her missing daughter’s safe return. Elora Larkin, nineteen, of Barnstable county, Massachusetts has been missing since Friday night. She was last seen walking home from her job at Agathangelou’s bakery, wearing khakis, a black t-shirt, and black sneakers. The police have opened a tip line and are offering an unspecified reward for any information that leads to Miss Larkin.”

Elora felt a lurching sensation in her stomach, so visceral she wanted to throw up. That was her. On the news. Gone. Missing.

Behind her, the man chuckled.

“Look at that, baby. You’re all over New England.”

“I’m not your baby,” she snapped, turning around. But her head was spinning. All over New England? It wasn’t the Cape Cod news station on the TV. It wasn’t even a state news channel. It was entirely unfamiliar, the reporter’s face one she’d never seen.. So he’d taken her across state lines, making her chances of being found lower yet.

The man shushed her and put a finger up to her lips. “Watch.” She almost bit him, but decided it wasn’t worth the inevitable punishment that would follow. Besides, they might say something useful, something that could help her. She needed to pay attention.

The screen changed, and a missing persons poster popped up. Hers.

It was up for a minute before it faded away as the reporter came back on the screen.

“Such a sad story. Everyone in the studio is hoping and praying for her safe return. Unfortunately, vigilance is so important in this day and age. Up next, we have a recording of a press conference with the girl’s mother.

The girl’s mother. Her mother. Elora felt her heartbeat thumping in her chest.

And there she was. Jodie was standing at a podium in a building that had to be a police station. Demetrios was standing by her side, offering support by merely being present. While Elora hadn’t seen him cry even once in all the years she’d known him, he now looked like he was on the verge of tears.

Her mom started to speak. She looked so sad. Withered, like the life had been sucked out of her, from fear and overthinking and sleepless nights.

“My daughter-My daughter Elora has been missing since Friday night. She’s got-she’s got blonde hair, and green eyes, and she’s real tall. I’m sure pictures have gone around by now. She was walking home from work and-and then she disappeared. We were supposed to have dinner Sunday and she never came. It was supposed to be her weekend off. I- If someone has her, please, I’m begging you, let her go. Bring her home safe. She’s a good kid, she works hard, she rescues cats in her spare time...she doesn’t deserve this. And Elora, if you’re seeing this, I love you. I love you so much, honey. If you chose to leave, please just tell us you’re okay. It’s okay. You can go see the world, just tell us you’re okay. And if something-something bad happened, we’re gonna find you. I promise, baby, I love you and we’re gonna bring you home. Promise.”

At that point, she set the microphone down and began to cry, tears streaming down her face as she hurried off to an exit, the cameras following her for a few moments. Elora’s heart twisted in knots. Seeing her mom’s face brought her so much joy, yet knowing how worried she had to be made her feel sick with guilt.

But she promised. She promised she’d find her.

“That your mom?”

Elora stilled. He already knew the answer.

"She’s kinda pathetic. Could barely keep it together long enough to tell them about you.”

She went cold. “Stop,” she seethed. Her voice was eerily calm, given her anger.

"Or what?” he replied, twisting her hair up in his hand and giving it another tug.

Elora was silent. There was no or what. She knew that.

The reporter came back on the screen.

“Well, folks, that’s all we have on the case for tonight. Remember to be safe and vigilant. This has been Hannah Brown with News12.”

The man released her hair, picked up the remote, and turned off the T.V.

“Notice how they only talked about you, not me?”

Elora turned her head around. She was crying.

“What?”

He scoffed. “I said, notice how they only ran their mouths about you the whole time. Never said a word about me. You know what that means? They don’t know jack shit about me. They don’t know who you’re with or where you are. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but we’re in Connecticut. We crossed state lines twice. They’re never going to find you, you know that?

She tried to hide it, but he could see her expression falling with every word he said, hope beginning to seep out of her. She shook her head vigorously, her bottom lip trembling.

“N-no! No, they will, you’re just crazy! You’re just fucking crazy!”

A scowl formed on his lips. “No, they won’t.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but in a split second, his hand was gripping tightly around her throat, cutting off her air. Her eyes went wide.

“No one is coming to save you.”

Elora swallowed, fear bright in her eyes. She tried to rip herself away, but the man raked his fingers across the fresh brand on her collarbone, sending her to the ground, keeling in pain.

“We could’ve had a nice evening if you behaved. Listened,” he grumbled, standing and once again grabbing her hair tightly before dragging her off towards the bathroom.

Tags: @exploringspaceinpyjamas @all-whumped-out @badthingshappenbingo

#bad things happen bingo #whump #whump fic #whump writing #my writing #whumper #human whumpee #possessive whumper #creepy whumper #Elora #elora larkin #lady whump #whump blog #psychological whump #physical whump #apartment 307

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acefrogmonarch · 4 years

Text

This for fun pt.2

The letter that Master Fu left for Marinette was the story of bridgette. The luck holder before her. Her struggles, and Tikki's ignorance.

She learned her story.

"Dear Beloved Student" Marinette stopped at the beginning and bite her lip, to try to stop the tears from flowing. Shakingly sighing and clutching the papers against her head, she composes herself and looks over at the letter.

Ready this time.

"I regret to inform you of the true burden of the Miraculous." Marinette looked at her dear friends in the small treasure chest at the foot of her bed.

Unrapping the slightly crumbed paper, Marinette continued past her feelings. "The miraculous helps and continues to either suck your lifespan or expand it." Her black earrings suddenly felt colder and heavier than before.

"The Miraculous Luck is by far the unluckiness. In on itself it creates it's own balance.

Everything comes with a price, and mine cost so much.

The last Miraculous Holder of luck was a girl just like you.

Same pigtails, same strength, just a different country.

The same love story with her cat. Perhaps that's why she fell out of my guidance.

If she were to be compared to that old american couple it would of been bonnie and clyde.

Tikki has made the mistake of revealing to her charge about the curse first hand, instead of later.

I won't fault her. It was hard enough to learn it from wayzz and how long all of you have.

Bridgette is strong, obsessive, and competitive. But in the wrong way. She used it to hurt people, to make herself feel better.

She lived her short life to the fullest with her clyde by her side.

She still had tikki and when her Felix had plagg, it only brought destruction where ever they went.

It was a hard half century before I could finally track her down in Hong Kong.

Barely 17 and had run away with her lover to a new country in a language they barely new.

But they did everything together.

Even die.

It was hard to fight three corrupted users.

Destruction, Creation, and the Wildcard. Had been corrupted.

I had taken care of the lost wildcard in Japan, where I had meet Bridgette and Felix but as you can see, things were going down hill.

A simple quick recovery, but as soon as she learned the truth, Bridgette quickly changed her tune.

Stealing the ring right under my nose for Felix.

It was a terrible decision but my youth isn't anything but terrible decisions.

You need to know why I hide this for so long.

I couldn't risk another rogue ladybug that didn't find anything wrong with killing and pillaging neighberhoods.

Emotions rung high during World War 2, and those two set every bomb off where ever they went.

Bridgette came from a poor family that barely feed alm the mouths in the house.

A new sent of birth control had been used when the youngest one had been born.

If i recall correctly, it was thalidomide.

Fire spread quick at the name to disrecard the product once women found out about it's hidde effect.

Millions of children bodies were destroyed beyond repair and often left then scarred for life.

History is sad when you witness it happening before your eyes.

I can only hope terror doesn't strike your heart like it did for mine.

Hawkmoth would of flourished he had been active during those devestating times.

But yes bridgette came from a large poor family that couldn't provide for themselves.

Bridgette could help when she could and took up a job as a seamstress to help repair and fix holes in pants and shirts.

I saw the hardworking nature of her, but not her kindness or the generousity that you don't lack.

My rash decision caused this. I can only hope you learn from this."

A sudden knock at her trapped door makes her jump and hide the paper under her giant cat pillow.

Fixing around herself and making sure the letter is hidden, Marinette walks to her desk. "Yes?" Turning to the open door, adrien pops into view. She holds her breath and waits. "Uh, Marinette?"

Adrien opens the handle with one hand and sets a tray of an assortment of baked goods. Clearly asking for permission to enter and spend time together, a troubled look plasters across his face.

"Uh, thanks?" At her reply, Adrien immideitately perked up. 'Reminds me like of a certain cat.'

Marinettes 3rd year began at a new relavation. Chat noir is Adrien.

Hi :)

Should I make this maribat or nah?

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous lb #miraculous fanfic #maribat #mari #marinette dupain cheng #which one #??

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taurusnoir · 5 years

Text

taste of a twilight fruit

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Pairing: Adrien/Marinette

Rating: M

Summary: In which Adrien falls in love with a girl he met at a bar, Marinette is just trying to prove to Alya she can have a one night stand, and Nino desperately needs a drink.

ao3

Adrien almost drops the rhythm and his bass when he sees her at the bar. He quickly finds his place again, grip tightening around the neck of his instrument, and the girl with blue eyes smirks under her mask. The bar they’re playing at has deemed Friday’s “masquerade nights”, and she’s evidently gone all out with the suggestion. Her mask is black, trimmed with delicate red lace. It’s a beautiful piece, and Adrien feels the heat in his cheeks when he realizes his face is covered with a shitty halloween cat mask. The girl winks at him, and she has her lips wrapped around what appears to be a red curly straw, liquid slowly rising up to her mouth from her drink, and Adrien curses Nino for ever forcing him to play in his stupid band.

He’d only agreed because he likes making music with his best friend, and Nino’s talent was starting to get recognized. They’d moved up from playing house shows to actual bar gigs, and nice bars too. But Adrien didn’t sign up for this- pretty black-haired girls with freckles who looked like they wanted to eat him alive. He can’t move, stuck on the bar’s small stage, caught between the music and the girl’s stare. Heat creeps under his collar and Adrien is very aware he can’t do anything about it because of the guitar in his hands. Somehow he doesn’t lose the placement of his fingers, the chord progression locked tight in his muscle memory, and he’s thankful for it. It feels like a cruel irony- Nino’s drawl exclaiming the presence of a heartbreaker, and Adrien drowning in the mystery girl at the bar.

The universe must decide to spare him though, as the song comes to an end and with it their set. He needs to get the bar as soon as he can. He has no idea what he’s going to do once he gets there, but thinking ahead was never his strong suit.

“Dude, that was sick. You killed it.” Nino praises him, grabbing the cord from his amp and wrapping it around his hands. Adrien is only half listening, lost in the task of trying to slide his bass in the fabric case as quickly as he can, but his shaking hands refuse to cooperate with him.

“Thanks, but you’re the main man, Nino. Can’t do it without you.”

His stupid- fucking- guitar won’t return to it’s case. He looks at the bar, trying to locate the girl, and lets out a frustrated growl at his bass. Grabbing his shoulder, Nino gives him a worried look, “Woah there, Agreste. You okay?”

Adrien cocks his head to the direction of the bar. “There’s a girl-”

Before he can finish, Nino throws his head back, laughing. “I should’ve known. You look like you saw a ghost.”

He finally gets the godforsaken thing in it’s case. Nino is still laughing, and Adrien looks up and scowls at him. It only makes his best friend laugh harder.

“Remember dude, you gotta mention the bass. Girls always want to-” He cackles.

“Nino if you say ‘fuck the bassist’, I’m revoking your best friend card.”

The other boy just snorts, “Go get her tiger.”

By the time Adrien gets to the bar, the girl is gone.

Adrien finds himself at Clyde’s the next Friday. He contemplated not coming, he knows it’s ridiculous. Why would she come this friday just because she came last time? But there’s a lingering hope that has solidified itself in the back of his mind, and it’s not going anywhere. He scans the room, observes the bodies pulsing beside one another, wondering if his mystery girl is one of them, and sips his drink.

“Looking for someone?” Adrien almost drops his glass. She’s snuck up behind him, and Adrien almost chokes at the sight of her. It’s the girl from the bar, black hair and blue eyes shining and swimming with mirth at sneaking up on him. She has even more freckles up close, and her cheeks and mouth are soft and rose-colored. She’s wearing a different mask than before, this one red silk, with black dots and an embroidered lattice. It matches the rest of her outfit, which consists of a black off the shoulder top tucked into the tightest red miniskirt Adrien’s ever seen. His mouth goes dry.

“Possibly.”

She grins at him. “I’ve been looking for the super cute bassist from the band last week- have you seen him?”

She’s leaning against the wall, nonchalant, and Adrien feels like he’s going to explode.

“I- uh- Have you checked the lost and found?”

She throws her head back in a laugh, exposing the elegant line of her neck. Adrien wants to press his mouth to it, enraptured by the tone of her joy. She smiles at him and Adrien knows he’s absolutely and completely fucked.

“I have to go look- last time I was in there all I found was some underwear. I was trying to find some to throw at the blonde guy in the band.”

It shocks a laugh out of him. She’s looking at him with excitement, like he’s a brand new chew toy and she can't wait to get her teeth around him. There’s something innocent and hungry about it, and Adrien struggles to keep up with her.

“You couldn’t use your own?,” he counters. She looks down bashfully and shrugs.

“I wasn’t wearing any.”

Adrien chokes on the liquid in his throat.

“Can I buy you a drink?,” He asks, once he can breathe again.

“You know, that really is such a nice offer, but I think I’ll just have yours,” Before he can say anything she’s plucked the whiskey and coke from his hands and knocks it back. He sputters. This woman can’t be real. She sucks on one of the ice cubes from his drink and looks around as if she’s pondering something. She shifts her gaze to him and speaks.

“Oh well, looks like you lost your drink. Can I buy you another one?” Jesus. She’s looking at him expectedly, like she hasn’t completely reached into his circuity and torn out all his wires. She’s fast, and Adrien’s brain is slowly turning to syrup. He feels three steps behind, still drinking in the presence of her. Her lips are coated with a fine sheen of gloss, and Adrien has to catch himself from getting lost in watching the lights of the bar refract off of it.

“Hello?” She waves a hand in front of his face. “Come on, that wasn’t even my best move.” There’s a small shadow of anxiety on her face, as if she’s worried she’s overstepped.

Adrien shakes his head. “I’m gone, broken. You’ve ruined me.” He looks at her, pleading. “A margarita, please.”

The fear eases from her face and she breaks out in a grin. “Stay here, I’ll go get that for you.” He has no idea what he’s done in his life to deserve this, and he can’t decide if its punishment or a gift.

He watches her saunter to the bar. She’s a tiny girl, and her skirt’s even smaller. He can’t tell if the material is latex or leather, and he should definitely know these things, but the sway of her hips as she walks to the bar has turned his mind into a puddle of goo. His gaze is ripped from her legs as she turns around suddenly, and he’s been caught. He can feel the heat rising in his face and he reaches up to rub the back of his neck. Everything is so warm, and he can’t tell if its the pulsing of bodies around him or the pulsing of his heart. She winks at him and waves down the bartender.

He keeps staring at her, trying to find some sort of clues to solve the mystery she’s presented him. Adrien doesn’t even know what her name is. Her top must be made of tulle, and it contrasts against her pale expense of back. Everything looks exquisitely made, almost made for her, and he has half a mind to ask her who her tailor is. She’s got a smattering of freckles in between her shoulder blades and across her shoulders, and Adrien wants to trace each and every single one of them, map out constellations and tell her she's out of this world. Something in Adrien’s mind is sounding off an alarm, he’s getting way over his head, this woman is so out of his league but he can’t run. She’s told him to stay here and he feels like fly seduced by the silk of a web; he’s stretched out, exposed and all he can do is wait for her to come back and kill him. He knows next to nothing about her except that she could tell him to jump off a bridge and he’d be all too happy to do it for her. It’s dangerous, and Adrien can’t do anything but lean against the wall and wait.

She returns with two drinks in her hand.

Smiling, she extends one of them out to him.

“A margarita for the cat.”

Adrien graciously accepts the drink, cringing. He’d forgotten. Tilting her head, she gives him a quizzical look.

“I forgot I was wearing this stupid mask.”

Adrien is still wearing the cat mask from his first encounter with her, except the cheap thing is taped on one side where the string hole ripped. He suddenly feels horrifically underdressed. Undermasked, rather.

She shrugs, “It’s cute.”

He takes a sip of his drink. The normal burn of alcohol and lime is brightened by something new, something saccharine.

The surprise must be evident on his face and she says, “I asked the bartender to put some agave in it, after that whiskey, thought you could use something sweet.” Adrien knows there’s something he should say, the floor open for a witty comeback, to continue the game of cat-and mouse they’ve been playing. But the gesture hits Adrien in his chest, taken aback by the thoughtfulness of it.

“It’s delicious, Thank you.”

There’s a hint of awkwardness in daring to creep in, and Adrien desperately wants to keep it at bay. But he also wants to lose himself in the expanse of her, how she feels so immense and finite all at once. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but he knows he’s engaging in emotions not meant for pretty nameless girls at bars. He searches his brain to say something cool, interesting, something to impress her, something safe-

“You look like a ladybug.”

“What?”

Adrien’s gonna kill himself.

“I mean- you- the red and black thing- you got going on.” He winces, “It reminds me of a ladybug.”

She giggles at him, and Adrien can feel his face heating up. He wants the ground to swallow him whole. He can hear Nino laughing at him from his apartment a few blocks away. The black-haired woman takes pity on him.

“Ladybugs are symbols of good luck, right?” Her tongue traces along the rim of her glass, Adrien can see the crystals of salt melting into her mouth. He nods.

She a cheshire cat grin breaks out across her face. “Guess that means you’re gonna get lucky then, huh?”

Adrien groans and hits his head against the wall. He’s dead, this woman has murdered him and she won’t even let him rest in peace. He shakes his head and stares at her, she just laughs and playfully pushes his shoulder. He feels like he’s locked in a room with a tesla coil, electricity thrumming through him at her touch.

“Who even are you,” He wonders.

Her eyes light up from underneath her mask and she counters, “A ladybug, apparently.”

He laughs, “No, I’m serious. What’s your name, bug?”

She puts her hand on the wall behind him, arm reaching across the side of his face, and he can smell the lingerings of her perfume, something with notes of berries and pear and musk. He can feel the puff of her breath on his cheek.

“I don’t think that’s something you need to know, Kitty,” She purrs, and Adrien shivers. His brain can’t stop screaming she’s so fucking hot she’s so fucking hot she’s so fucking-

“You’re so fucking hot,” He gasps, and Adrien immediately closes his eyes at the embarrassment of not being able to keep his stream of conciousness at bay. He feels her step back, and when he opens his eyes hers are wide. He opens his mouth to say something, so apologize, but Ladybug, his brain supplies, (he must just be calling her that now) wipes the shock from her face and presses herself against him. His body gets shocked with a couple million volts at once.

“Oh, Chaton, I am happy to hear you think so highly of me.” Her nose bumps against his.

“Why don’t you take me home?”

The reinforcements around Adrien’s brain crumble into dust, the alarm bells are winning, and it takes everything in him to not let his knees buckle. He can’t breathe, he can’t move, so he does what he does best. Make a fool of himself.

“I can’t- my cat- is allergic to… women.” If Adrien had any control over his body he would take his phone out and find the directions to the nearest cliff. Ladybug takes a step back, confused amusement across her features.

“Oh?”

“His name is Plagg. I think it’s psychosomatic.”

She bursts out laughing, something genuine and joyful, and Adrien just halfheartedly laughs beside her. Gasping for breath, she folds over onto her haunches and breaks out into even harder laughter. Her eyes twinkle.

“How about my place then? I have a cat too, but Tikki’s allergy-free.”

“Your cat’s name is Tikki?”

She draws her eyebrows together, she’s leaning against the wall now. “Yes?”

“That’s- that’s great,” He stumbles, and takes a long, long swig of his drink.

“Thank you?” She questions, taking another step back. Her fierceness is slowly being replaced by confusion and Adrien feels like an absolute idiot.

“I’m sorry, I might have been reading this wrong, but do you- not want to sleep with me?

Because it’s okay if you don’t-” She starts.

Adrien shakes his head vehemently. “No- no no I definitely want to sleep with you! I just. Have to go to work tomorrow. Early,” He says. “I should actually get going.”

He’s technically not lying, he does have work tomorrow, and he needs to leave the nuclear bomb sight he’s found himself in so he can go back to his apartment and slam his head against the wall repeatedly. Ladybug looks at him, bewildered but she offers him a shy smile.

“Well, then. Um. Good luck.”

He puts his glass down on the nearest table and thanks her for the drink. And then he runs.

Adrien spends the next hour in his apartment screaming into his pillow.

Nino cries laughing the next day when Adrien tells him.

“You told her- your cat-” He gasps, tears streaming down his face. “Is allergic to women-”

Adrien groans and buries his head further in the couch. Maybe if he borrows deep enough the leather will eat him.

“Speaking of the Devil-” Nino says, as Plagg make his presence known by rubbing up against his best friend’s leg. The musician scratches behind the cat’s ears.

“I am so sorry to hear of your affliction, Plagg. I’ll have to find you some Claritin.”

Adrien sticks his hand out from underneath his blanket and offers Nino a middle finger.

His best friend just laughs harder hiccuping with the force of it.

“Nino, you don’t understand. She was like- imagine every single one of your wildest fantasies came to life and then cornered you in a bar and very much was willing to sleep with you.”

Nino stops laughing and stares at him. “I don’t see the problem here.”

“Nino, my brain stopped working.”

“Evidently. Adrien.exe fully crashed. Spectacularly, might I add.” Adrien groans again and rubs his hands across his face. He’s a model goddamn it, surrounded by beautiful women on a daily basis, and for some reason he couldn’t talk to a girl at a bar.

“I wish I’d gotten a video of it. Alya would’ve fucking cried.”

Adrien throws a pillow at him. “Don’t tell your girlfriend about what an idiot I am!”

“Don’t worry, my friend. I didn’t have to tell her. She knows,” Nino says, and Adrien just wants to create a self-sustaining village in this crevice of the couch so he never has to leave. He can’t stop thinking about her, her voice, her smell, the way she forced herself into his space. Adrien’s been attracted to girls before, but this feels dangerous. There’s a level of interest he’s not used to. It’s not just her physical appearance, it was the thoughtfulness and sweetness of adding nectar, how she laughed from her stomach. He read Romeo and Juliet in highschool, he knows how lust can disguise itself behind a black and red mask and call itself love, but Adrien’s on a dangerous precipice and he’s scared at how much he doesn't want to step back.

“I think I might be in love with her, Nino” He sighs, voice betraying the weight of his predicament.

Nino pats his stomach. “Adrien, I say this with all the love in my heart, but you are the definition of a disaster bottom.”

Adrien pushes his friend’s hand off of him. “Please know I hate you and you are no longer welcome in my apartment.”

“Yeah well, you’re gonna hate me a lot more in a second.” Adrien pushes himself on his elbows and stares at him.

“What did you do?”

Nino licks his lips, and suddenly finds extreme interest in Plagg’s fur. “I may or may not have agreed that we do another gig at Clyde’s.”

Adrien swings his feet around so that he is sitting on the couch. If he kicks Nino in the process it’s definitely an accident.

“Nino, I can’t go back there,” He whines. He knows he whining- but he cannot show his face again in that bar. Nino is his best friend. Nino should understand this.

All he does is roll his eyes at him. “Dude, you’re gonna be on stage- focus on your guitar and it’ll be fine. Afterwards we can just leave, no chit chat.”

“Can’t you get another bassist? I’m sure there’s some poor university student that needs a couple bucks and a drink that would be happy to do it.”

“Adrien, you’re my bassist. You know the music, you’re part of the band- please. Do it for your old pal Nino.”

The blonde boy shoots him an unimpressed look.

“Also if Ladybug is there, you can make up for your disastrous conversation skills with your sexy ass bass playing. You know what I always say- ‘Girls always want-’”

“Girls always want to fuck the bassist,” Adrien finishes.

Nino nods assuredly, “Bingo, my friend.” The boy looks at Adrien, pathetically wrapped up his blanket burrito and sighs.

“Also, if you’re in love with this girl, wouldn’t you want to see her again?,” Nino asks.

Adrien scratches his beloved cat below the chin, and Plagg looks up at him and Adrien swears the stupid cat is laughing at him.

Whenever Gabriel Agreste calls his son into his office, it's never good. It has been the place of many a tongue lashing, expression of disappointment, and overall Adrien prefers to avoid it at all costs. He knows he’s not the only one- he has seen many, many interns leave the room blubbering and teary-eyed. So when Natalie tells him his father requests his presence, Adrien resigns himself to his fate. However, it seems today he will be avoiding his father’s wrath, because when he walks in his father is conversing with a girl. She’s probably about his age, with dark hair, and large blue eyes. She’s dressed conservatively, but still fashion forward. Adrien is pretty sure he’s seen her in the occasional gaggle of interns. She looks nervous, and considering she’s in Gabriel Agreste’s office, Adrien can’t blame her.

Finally, his father acknowledges his presence. “Adrien, I’d like to introduce you to Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’ve recently hired her as a pattern maker, she will also be doing embroidery work and helping with fittings. I wanted to make her presence as a new member of the team known to you.” His father had made it a habit of introducing Adrien to the new hires as a way of showing him who he was allowed to converse with, as Gabriel had made a strict “No interns” rule after one too many of them tried to “inter’n” to his pants.

Adrien nods politely at her, “It is a pleasure to meet you Marinette, we are incredibly happy to have you as part of our team.” She offers him a tense, tight lipped smile. She looks uncomfortable and out of place in Gabriel’s modern, minimalist office space. The coldness of his father’s immaculate office walls seem to fight against the girl’s inner warmth. She looks the type to possibly have pictures of loved ones on the wall or something equally insane, and his father's office is not a place for anything other than weird ten thousand dollar avant garde art sculptures. A picture of his child? Unfathomable.

Adrien is ecstatic for the girl’s resume, empathetic that she now has to deal with his father’s iron fist. But she’s young, one of the youngest hires they’ve ever had, and if Adrien had seen her in passing as an intern, she must’ve stepped up to the challenge. Anyone that can survive, even flourish under his father’s rule was strong. Definitely stronger than him. He wishes the best for her.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Agreste,” She offers and Adrien offers her a bit of warmth in the frigid space they’ve both been confined to.

“Please, call me Adrien. Mr. Agreste is my father.”

His father huffs, “Adrien, please, that is hardly professional-”

Marientte Dupain-Cheng smiles. “It’s nice to meet you Adrien.”

His father raises his eyebrow at the woman’s words, but he says nothing. Adrien smiles back.

He just might like this Marienette girl.

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #adrienette #ladynior #my fic #ml fanfic

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tenmillionwhumperflies · 5 years

Text

#5 of OC Whump

#5 - Rescue

So you’ll meet the gang at least in this ready for Whumptober. Not sure if it’s great but nvm ^^’

Weeks of torture and torment took their toll and Omen was relentless in dishing out punishment after punishment. Glenn was left with his hands shackled above him by a single chain, given the option to kneel or stand, but he was far too weak to even look up now, let alone get up. He was drained of all his energy, his fight, and any hope he could have possibly clung to.

He was cold, battered, bloodied, burnt, and dying. He’d long since forgotten his list of wounds. He hadn't eaten, barely slept, and was tormented by fever. Omen was in his head, in his dreams. He was sure he was starting to see things and pain did not even begin to describe how he felt, a corpse felt more fitting. The slightest movement took all his energy. He was just waiting for the end, hoping Omen would give him the end.

The door creaked open and Omen came inside. Glenn didn’t look up, he didn’t want to see that cold flash of a grin, or see what weapon he planned to use that day. He wanted to sleep and never wake up. He could only hang there limply by his wrists, like a puppet.

“These tattoos, were they meant to help you cope? They’re the only thing keeping you tough, huh? Reminding you of home?” Omen asked, taking Glenn by the jaw and lifting up his head, squeezing the already abused bone.

Glenn couldn’t find the strength to answer. Those tattoos were all he had left. They were a cold memory, but they did not give him any strength. Not anymore...

“No? I’m going to colour all of this in black, get rid of any precious hope this gives you. Maybe when it heals I’ll go over it in white, give you some new messages?”

“Please… d.don’t...”

He was powerless as Omen set everything up. Chained as he was, there was nothing he could do but weep as Omen set to work on tattooing his wrist, slowly covering it. The simple cat-scratch like pain usually wasn’t a problem, if it hadn’t been for the red swelling that went a good inch down his wrist past the shackle. He didn’t have the strength to scream, but his body always found a way of managing. He was going to lose it all, he was going to lose his tattoos and there was nothing he could do but slouch there and take it.

The door opened again, hitting off the wall. The buzzing and burning pain stopped.

“Aiyana! What-”

“Master, please. I must speak with you, I must!”

Omen sneered and tugged hard at Glenn’s hair, forcing him to look at his progress before he walked out and slammed the door shut. He’d already covered a band of his wrist like a secondary shackle.

Glenn vomited bile, and his body fell forward. Weak as he was, he couldn’t sit back, left in an awful position with his back arching. It hurt after mere seconds. He mewled. Aiyana returned with a panicked look about her. Glenn was too tired to think about it, even as he saw her pick up a needle and filled it with some clear liquid. He had no idea what it was. He didn’t care.

His eyes slipped closed and the door slammed open again, louder than Glenn thought possible. He shuddered and heard an animalistic growl. Hell, it almost sounded like Erin when she turned into a beast. He really was seeing and hearing things. But Aiyana screamed, and that confused him for a moment. With his eyes still closed, he could only guess Omen was back, he’d hurt her, back to hurt him too.

Only when he opened his eyes, he was taken aback to see Erin really was there, looking ike a giant beast, that weird mix between wolf and bison, pinning Aiyana down on the ground with sharp teeth shining so close to Aiyana’s grey face.

“Don’t,” he murmured, with his thoughts still clouded. This was some serious hallucination, his fever must have been running wild.

Erin’s ear pricked up in Glenn’s direction and she did actually close her mouth, but she didn’t move from pinning the girl down.

“Glenn?!” another voice shouted. Farron, although he couldn’t remember his voice sounding so shrill. This apparition looked just like him, save for the clear loss of weight. Glenn smirked, he was so hungry even his hallucinations were starving.

He flinched when Farron came closer and put a hand on his cheek, pushing him back into a more comfortable position and it felt so real. He shuddered. “G.go… away, s...stupid fak.ke.”

“Glenn? Glenn, buddy, it’s me. We’re here. We’ve got you.”

Glenn found the strength to shake his head and get the hand off of his throbbing jaw. “Dead...” he whispered. “Y.you’re dead...”

Farron’s attention turned to Aiyana in a cold glare. “What’s he talking about? What did you do? Speak up!”

Aiyana flinched badly. “M.Master. H.He showed him a newspaper. He told him you were all dead.”

“Erin, kill her before I do,” Farron snarled. Aiyana whimpered.

Erin let out an odd-sounding grumble and gestured toward Glenn.

“D.don’t kill her...” Glenn managed. Hallucination or not, he didn’t want to see it. She reminded him too much of how he used to be. Trapped in a hell hole but knowing no different. He’d been given the choice of another life, she hadn’t. If this was real, if, then she deserved the chance too.

Farron looked back at Glenn. “Glenn, I need you to focus, buddy. We’re not dead, Omen lied to you. I’m so sorry we took so long, but we’re here. Please, try to focus. Clyde, have you found those keys yet?”

“Got ‘em,” Glenn heard that same gruff voice report. “Hold onto him and I’ll get him down.”

Farron propped him up, pressing his body flush against Glenn’s so when the shackles came away, he didn’t fall. It put painful pressure on his ribs, drawing a whimper, but felt a lot nicer to be eased down to the floor than be dropped face-first.

Things really weren’t making sense. Why did this feel so real? They were dead, he’d grieved for a month now, they were surely dead. He had nothing but Omen now, surely? This couldn’t be real, but all the same, he was terrified of blinking, so afraid of it all disappearing and seeing Omen’s face in front of him.

He needed to know. Settled on the floor, Glenn dared to close his eyes again and open them. They didn’t disappear. He slowly moved his hand, reaching to touch Farron’s arm. If he touched it, surely it would go away…

It didn’t and the breath caught in his barely-moving lungs. Were they real? Did he really want to raise his hopes and risk them all crumbling down?

Farron held onto his hand and bowed right down, catching Glenn’s full attention as he lay on the ground wheezing.

“We’re here, Glenn. I’ve got you, see?” Farron stroked his hair gently, the first real comfort he’d had in so long. He groaned in relief.

He tried to get up, his arms shaking with numbing exertion. He fell down, but warm hands caught him, supported him, and slowly pulled him into a protective grip, cuddling him as much as he’d dare. “Shh, take it easy, Glenn. You’re safe now. Hold still.”

His senses sharpened a little. The gentle shushing, the voice he thought he’d never hear again. Farron brought his dirty clumps of hair away from his face and wiped the blood from his lips with his thumb. He made no attempt to get up again. Everything felt like lead. He couldn't move if he’d tried. He managed a raspy groan past dry lips and felt a cool hand press against his forehead.

They were real.

A wave of internal pain hit him and he sobbed. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. Farron pulled him a little closer. Hot pain weighed him down, yet he felt like ice. Farron cupped his cheek in his hand, but Glenn whimpered, moving his head to get his hand off his broken jaw. Farron moved his hand in fear, using it to support his head instead.

“You're… here… I. I'm sorry, I… thought…”

Farron whispered “Shh, I know, I know. Breathe, and try not to worry. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, buddy. I really need you to lie still.”

“Don’t… kill her,” he said again. “T.Take her… she’s… she’s… just.”

“Alright, alright. Glenn, you have to save your strength. You’re in a really bad way.”

Farron turned his attention back to his almost seven-foot-tall friend. “Clyde, tie up that girl. We’re taking her back with us. I want answers,” Farron said.

Aiyana screamed and struggled under Erin’s weight, but she was going nowhere, especially when Erin bared her teeth again. “No! No, please! You can’t take me from my Master! You can’t!”

Farron shielded Glenn as Aiyana was tied up and dragged out kicking and screaming. Glenn understood her fear, but he wasn’t going to leave her here. That was a clear enough thought in his mind. She was just how he had once been. Farron could help her, just like he had helped him. Glenn leaned into Farron’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. He was real, this, this was all real. He’d have burst into tears if he wasn’t so weak, so numb.

“I’m going to pick you up, okay? I’m gonna get you home,” Farron said gently

Glenn cried out as soon as Farron adjusted his grip. It caught off the carved wound on his back, reigniting the burning feeling. He felt blood ooze out of it.

“Deep breaths, bud. Lemme see,” Farron soothed as he sat him up too inspect the damage hidden by most of his hair.

Farron swept it aside and gasped. Erin plodded closer to see what was wrong and growled. “‘m sorry,” Glenn murmured. “C.couldn’t… stop him.”

Sure enough, written on his back in capital letters was the word OMEN, covered in sticky blood, crude scabs, and a roaring infection. He didn’t have enough blood in his body to speed up the healing process, Omen made sure of that.

“I. I“’s okay, it’s okay. This isn’t your fault. I just wasn’t expecting to see that, that’s all. It’s okay.”

"I tried… I really did, but... the papers.. you were dead. And he was burning me and… I'm sorry. I.I've let you down…. I gave up."

"Never. You could never let us down, Glenn. Please, go to sleep. When you wake up, everything will feel better."

“Don't… go…”

“We will be here when you wake up,” he promised, knowing why he was struggling against it. Slowly, he got him to surrender to sleep in his arms, cradling him like Glenn had dreamt about for months.

#whump #my ocs #my writing #writing #rescued #delusional #Glenn #Farron #Aiyana #Omen #Erin #Clyde #Okay that's the whole crew #forced tattoo #marked #weak #bleeding #exhausted

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uas-fics · 5 years

Text

Chapter 2 of The One That Almost Got Away--But Came Back

Chapter 1 -

~~~~

Mr. Garrison looked down at his clipboard then began calling out names. After each name came a ‘here’ before the teacher assigned every student a partner. Everyone chatted between themselves as the fourth graders prepared for a Box Top reward field trip to Stark’s Pond.

When it came to numbers, Tweek had been one of the higher contributors to their class Box Top total. Plenty of the boxes and mixes at the shop had Box Tops on them, and his parents agreed to let him cut the tops out if he also broke down the boxes for recycling.

Finally, Mr. Garrison clapped his hands and announced everyone had to hold their partner’s hand on the walk there.

“You’re responsible for your buddy. Don’t mess it up,” Mr. Garrison reminded.

Token bumped Tweek with his elbow then held out his hand. As they walked down the sidewalk, Token chatted with Craig and Clyde in front of him. Tweek nodded and added his two cents once or twice, but remained quiet otherwise. Waiting at the crosswalk, Tweek looked at Token while he chatted.

He’d never noticed before how nice Token’s profile was. No wonder all the girls fawned over him. He was rich, had nice features, good hair, shiny teeth, and his hand was so soft and—

Tweek nearly stumbled but caught himself before anyone took much notice.

Token was holding his hand, his sweaty, dirty hand.

When was the last time Tweek washed it? Before or after recess? Could Token feel all the callouses he had from sweeping and mopping the shop? Of course, he had to! Token’s hand was so soft!

“Tweek?” Craig said. “Tweek?” He repeated loud enough to jerk Tweek’s attention from Token and his hand to the pair in front of them.

Huh?” Tweek asked, a twitch coming over him.

“Dude, are you ok? You look really red,” Craig told him.

“I’m, I’m...” Tweek looked once at Token, who wore a concerned expression. “I’m not feeling well.” With that, he let go of Token’s hand, turned towards the road and vomited.

~~~~~~

The lights in the nurse’s office buzzed as Tweek laid on the hard cot. His embarrassment made him pull the thin blanket over his head and wish he was dead.

The moment Clyde shouted, “Mr. Garrison! Tweek puked!”, all eyes turned towards Tweek, on his hands and knees, a small pool of stomach acid and ground up carrot sticks in front of him. The attention made him throw up the rest of his lunch.

Now the whole class thought he was gross.

Not to mention his parents would give him a lecture for getting sick and making one of them leave the shop.

The door open, and Tweek snapped his eyes shut.

“Just take a seat, sweetie. I’ll be back in just a second.” The nurse said. Someone walked and took the seat across the room and the door closed.

Tweak heard sniffing and dared to peek open his eyes.

Karen McCormick had a large scrape along her forearm and a bruise on her cheek. She held an ice pack to her face. Tears ran down her face. She didn't look happy, but this wasn't how she normally looked.

Kenny probably wouldn’t be happy if Tweek told him that Karen looked fine enough. Clearly, Kenny cared about his sister a lot. He deserved to know how she really was.

“Karen?” Tweek whispered.

She jumped and looked at him. “Oh, you’re one of Kenny’s friends.” She chewed her lip. “Kyle?”

“I’m Tweek,” Tweek corrected. “What happened?” He nodded at the ice pack.

Karen sniffled. “I got hit with a tether ball and fell on the blacktop.”

“Wow, that must have hurt. I’m sorry, but the nurse will have you fixed up in a jiffy.”

“I know. What about you? Why are you here?”

Tweak didn't particularly want to explain why he vomited or that the whole class staring made him do it twice, so instead, he explained he didn't feel well.

“A bell ache.” Tweek lifted a shoulder in a shrug.

“I hope you feel better.” Karen grinned crookedly, showing all her front teeth, including the two missing ones.

“You and Kenny have the same smile, ” Tweek replied in awe. He blushed then stammered, “sh-shit! I am so sorry! I didn't mean to—”

Karen shook her head. She lowered her icepack, revealing a black eye. With her free hand, she wiped her eyes on her wrist.

“Mommy said that too.” Karen put the icepack on her cheek.

“You must miss him a lot, don't you?”

“Yeah, but it's ok. Daddy says Kenny's up in Heaven, and I'll get to see him again when I'm an old granny,” She reassured. “Until then, he would want me to work hard and be happy! That's what Mommy said, too.”

“Your mom is right. He does--would. He would if he were still around, I mean.” Tweek caught himself from spilling his secret.

Karen smiled wryly. “Do you think God would let Kenny come visit tomorrow? Mom is making his favorite type of cake for his birthday. It would make her really happy if he came to eat with us.”

Tweak blinked. Kenny's birthday was tomorrow? He hadn’t known. Kenny didn’t mention it.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure God would be cool with that,” Tweek replied. “But I think angels are supposed to stay invisible on Earth, so you might not see him when he joins you.”

Karen’s eyes widen. They weren’t the same shade of blue as Kenny’s, but a warm brown. However, much like her smile, she shared the look in them with her brother. They held the same wonder that Kenny’s did. No doubt they were siblings.

She opened her mouth to speak, but the nurse came in then. Her expression was tired. After quickly doctoring Karen's arm, she shooed her off back to class with a new ice pack.

As she dug through a tub of clothes in the corner, she said to Tweek, “Tweek, dear, your mother is nearly here, you can go sit in the office with your bag.”

Tweak did as he was told.

In the office, he found Kyle, Jason White, and Jimmy Valmer sitting in front of Principal Victoria.

Each of them was dirty and soaking wet. Jason and Kyle looked annoyed and cold. Jason’s nose bleed and Kyle had a black eye to rival Karen's blooming over his right eye. Jimmy looked like the cat that ate the canary, despite his busted lip. One of his crunches had a slight bend to it and the other was caked with mud.

“I can’t believe you three jumped in Stark’s Pond on a dare, then starting a fight! I expect better from you three.” Principal Victoria sounded exasperated.

Jason wrang out his shirt over the trash as Kyle dropped his wet hat to his lap with a plop. Jimmy just beamed.

“We didn't jump in! Jimmy pushed us off the dock on a dare then jumped in himself,” Jason corrected with a glare.

“Mr. Garrison never sa- never sai- s-s-s—didn’t tell us we couldn’t jump in the pond,” Jimmy remark coyly, as though he just found the perfect loophole.

“You all could have frozen,” Principal Victoria chided.

“It’s March,” Jimmy told her. “You can’t freeze in M-March.”

“Maybe not in your old school, but you can here,” she stated. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Principal Victoria ordered all three of them into her office to discuss the apparent fight.

As they ushered in, Jimmy caught sight of Tweek. He gave a friendly wave, that Tweek slowly returned.

“Feel better,” Jimmy mouthed to him.

Jimmy was so cool, Tweek thought. He was funny and smart, even if his lazy eye sometimes made Tweek feel like he was watching him when he wasn’t. The same wave of nausea that hit him when he was admiring Token came over him.as

Luckily this time, he was able to settle his stomach as he waited, head down, for his mom to come to take him home.

~~~~~

There was a funeral on Wednesday, so Tweek found Kenny just at the edge of his range, floating high up, trying to get a good view.

For whatever reason, Kenny could only go about ten feet in any direction from his grave before hitting a wall. The first time Kenny explained this in full, he demonstrated by pretending to be a mime stuck in a box. He even ‘picked’ an imaginary flower, smelled it, then offered it to Tweek.

As Tweek pretended to sniff the flower, Kenny impishly asked, “did you know flowers are a plant's junk?” causing Tweak to toss the flower to the ground with a blush.

Tweek watched Kenny for a moment from the tree. The funeral goers were slowly and tearfully clearing out back to their cars. It would be safe to venture over without anyone thinking too much of it.

Finally, Tweek cleared his throat.

Kenny twisted around.

“Dude, what are you doing here? You have work, right?” He asked, floating back to the ground.

Tweek beamed. “I barfed at school yesterday, and Dad won't make me work if I got sick the day before.”

He spun his backpack around to the front with an excited grin.

“Besides, I saw Karen in the nurse's office yesterday.”

Kenny came even closer, nearly invading his personal space. He bounced on his toes.

“How is she? Does she look ok?”

“She got hit with a tether ball and fell, but I think she is doing good otherwise. She misses you, and says your parents miss you, too, but she looked happy,” Tweek told him. He smiled sheepishly as he unzipped his bag. "She also told me today was your birthday."

Kenny blinked a few times then look to his feet with his brows furrowed. Muttering silently, he counted on his finger before his head shot up,

"Holy shit! Today's my birthday!" He exclaimed.

"Yeah! And I brought you a gift." Tweek's hands shook as he pulled out the brown paper Tweak Bro's bag with Kenny's gift.

Kenny's expression fell. He took a few steps back to sit on top of his grave.

"Tweek, I appreciate the thought, but I am not really..." he gestured down, "material enough for gifts anymore."

"This isn't material." Tweek set his bag aside then dropped down to his knees next to Kenny's grave. He patted the spot next to him.

With his eyebrows raised in curiosity, Kenny floated down, sitting cross-legged. If he had been alive, Tweek would have felt his body heat. Now he just felt cold.

"What'd ya get me?" Kenny asked.

Tweek unfolded the top of the bag. With an air of pride, he took out a thick magazine with a grey scale picture of a person with half their face covered by a purple crystal on the front.

"'The Free Artist'?" Kenny read the flowing script title. "Um, thanks. Fine art is really...cool."

"No, I mean, yeah, sometimes it is, but that's not what this is about." Tweek started to flip through the pages. "My dad got a subscription to this magazine so we could have it sitting around at Tweak Bros to make the place seem refined."

"Ok?" Kenny turned his head to the side.

"We keep this one issues at home because of this." Tweek turned the magazine towards Kenny.

Across the center page was a black and white photo of a woman, her leg bent forward, spine arched, and head thrown back. Her naked breasts pointed up as she held the only splash of color in the photo, a bright red apple, aloft.

"Wooow!" Kenny reached for the magazine only for his hands to phase through.

"I thought I could turn the pages while you looked. Almost the whole issue is dedicated to this photographer. It's full of pictures of naked people in different poses. I thought, knowing what I know about you, that you’d like it?"

He chewed his lip. A fancy-schmancy art magazine wasn’t the same as a naughty one, but Tweek couldn’t get his hands on any of those. This was the best he had, even if the photos were not meant to be sexual or erotic. 'A grand showing of the beauty of the human form' is what the photographer claimed in the short article, but Kenny didn't seem to care what the point of the art was.

“This is so cool, dude!” Kenny beamed. “You brought a whole magazine of elegant nudes, just for me? Finally, I can truly appreciate the human body like the true connoisseur I am, artfully and with highbrow intelligence.”

Chuckling that Kenny pronounced it ‘conn-o-sire’, Tweek flipped to the next page. This one had a man on his knees, bending forward so his shoulders nearly touched the floor. The color in this picture was a vase of flowers set by his hips. Tweek thought he looked nice, for a grown-up, and suddenly his stomach twisted.

He quickly turned the page. The new two pages were a spread of different gender models.

Tweek hoped Kenny hadn't noticed. but by the look he gave him, Tweek knew he had.

"Everything alright?" Kenny asked.

With a sigh, Tweek shut the magazine and slumped in in himself.

"Can you keep a secret? One you can't ever tell anyone, not even other ghosts." Tweek didn't look up at him.

"There is no one around for me to tell, Tweek," Kenny pointed out. When Tweek didn't respond, he went on, "Ok, ok, I promise. I won't tell a soul your secret." A pause then,"In fact, I will tell you one of my secrets in exchange. How's about that?"

Tweek chewed the inside of his cheek before nodding.

"Alright, deal," Tweek replied. He took a breath, held it, then let it out slowly. "My secret is I...I, um...I don't like girls."

Kenny blinked once. "Don't like girls? I always thought the girls and you got along well enou..Ooooooh." Kenny whistled a breath through the gap in his teeth. "You're gay, Tweek?"

Tweek flinched. He'd never described himself as that once, even if it was true. It was a strange unspoken vow he'd made with himself. If he never said it out loud then he wasn't. There was still a chance he was straight.

But there it was, hanging in the air between the boys.

"Yeah, I guess," Tweek finally whispered. "Please don't make fun of me. I can’t help it."

"Why the hell would I make fun of you? Being gay is fine by me." Kenny crossed his arms, looking up at the clouds. "It doesn't matter if you like dick or pussy...or both."

His mouth twitched and his face contorted for a second into an expression that Tweek couldn't read.

Even if Tweek could have understand it, he wouldn't have dwelled. A weight he hadn't realized was on his shoulders lifted and he felt so much better. His stomach settled and some of his background anxiety quieted.

"You don't think it's weird?" Tweek wanted to confirm.

"Nah, it ain't weird." Kenny leaned back against his headstone. "But now I want to know if your crushing on anyone in our class. If I was to date a guy, I'd date Token. Not bad looking and rich as hell. A perfect boyfriend." Kenny jokingly snapped his fingers for emphasis, making Tweek snicker.

"Yes, definitely Token!" Tweek agreed.

They spent the rest of their time just chatting like normal, but now Tweek felt more comfortable than ever.

The conversation started to wind down after Tweek explained his list of boys he had something of a crush on, or, at least, wouldn’t be against asking if he knew they’d like him back.

Currently, Jimmy held top spot, because if they dated, no one would dare make fun of them. Jimmy was much too popular and well-liked to be made fun of by anyone in the class. Everyone else would turn on that person in an instant. Then Token, for much the same reason, along with how much Tweek liked his profile. Then at a distant third, Craig since Tweek like how much he spoke his mind.

"You know," Tweek flipped the magazine page for Kenny to admire the next picture, this one a woman curled up on herself and staring at the camera with determination as a fat, green, frog sat idly on her knee, "you never told me your secret."

"It's not nearly as good as yours," Kenny told him as he read the article that accompanied the photo.

"I still want to know. It's only fair."

Kenny opened his mouth to speak when a new voice cut him off.

"See? I told you! That chubby fourth-y is here! I saw him when I was at the funeral."

Tweek felt his heart fall dead out of his chest and land in his lap as three sixth graders came strutting up. Tweek didn't know them well enough to pull their names out from his memory, but he did know they were bullies who loved to pick on younger kids.

"Whatcha doing here, fourth-y? Reading like a nerd?" The biggest one sneered at the magazine.

The skinniest one raised an eyebrow and stepped closer to get a better look at the open pages.

"Hey! She's naked!" He pointed. "It’s a pornmag! Fourth-y’s got a pornmag!"

Tweek scooped up the magazine and held it to his chest, eyes wide. Kenny glared at the sixth graders and told them to fuck off, even though they couldn’t hear him.

"It's not porn. It's tasteful." Tweek dug his nails into the flesh of his other wrist, trying not to shake.

"It has naked ladies. It's porn." The middle one declared, reaching for it with grabby hands. "Let us have it. Your fourth-y brain isn’t mature enough to handle boobs."

"N-no! Urk! It's not yours. Leave me alone!" Tweek felt his flight or fight response start to pour adrenaline into his system. He probably couldn't fight three sixth graders, but he was sure he could outrun them.

Before he could make his grand escape, the biggest one dove forward for the magazine.

Tweek stumbled back as the issue was ripped from him. His heel hit the base of a nearby gravestone then he toppled over it. Mud and dirty snow covered his back and soaked straight through his shirt.

When his breath returned and he could finally push himself up, he saw the sixth graders gawking over the magazine. The cover was torn and barely held together by an inch of glossy, crumpled paper.

Then he tilted his head up and saw Kenny behind them.

Kenny’s teeth ground together. His hands clenched into fists. His nostrils flared. A low growl came from his throat. Tweek had never seen Kenny this upset, even in life. If he was tangible, Tweek thought Kenny would rip the sixth graders’ hearts out.

Something that Tweek couldn’t understand tore from Kenny’s throat as he reached forward with his arms out in front of him, as if he was going to push the middle sixth grader. The moment his hands phased through his chest, the sixth grader bolted up straight. His eyes were wide with terror.

His breath came out in a thick, shaking cloud, different from everyone else's, thicker and flecked with ice particles.

“Dude?” The biggest one asked, prodding his friend in the side.

His friend didn’t move, only whimpered, “I...I...I...”

Before the sixth graders could do anything more, a familiar voice boomed towards them.

“Hey! What are you kids doing over there?” Father Maxie shouted.

“Fuck! Run!” The skinny sixth-grader grabbed the middle one’s arm. The middle sixth-grader moved like a statue that had just come to life, stiffly and clumsily. After shoving the magazine into his jacket, the biggest one pushed the middle. All at once, the middle unfroze.

He sucked in a gasp as Father Maxie yelled again. It took a second for him to register where he was, but when he did, he darted faster than the rest out of the graveyard.

Tweek stared at Kenny with his mouth agape. Kenny looked down at his hands, brows furrowed and lips pressed together. He looked up at Tweek, confusion written across his face.

“I...guess that worked?” Kenny laughed nervously, shoving his hands in his parka pockets.

“What in the Great Heavens above is going on up here?” Father Maxie ran up with his lips set in a frown.

Tweek tried to sit up, only to bite back a yelp of pain. He pressed a hand to his lower back, whimpering.

Father Maxie instantly stooped down to look him over. He peeled the wet shirt away from Tweek’s chilled skin to reveal the starting of a bruise.

“Oh, dear!” Father Maxie shook his head. “Come along. Let’s get some ice on that and call your parents.”

As Tweek left, he looked over at Kenny, who waved at him with a faint smile on his transparent lips, and Tweek’s stomach did a now familiar twist.

~~~~~

Tweek held a CapriSuns, both cold and fruit punch-flavored, in each of his hands. One he had tilted towards his face to sip and the other he carefully pressed against his back.

One of the nuns that Tweek recognized from Sunday school fretted over him, asking him over and over if he was really ok, if he knew who those boys that hurt him were, and if there was anything she could do to make him feel better.

Tweek repeatedly answered yes, he was ok and, no, he did not know those boys’ names, just that they were sixth graders. For her last question, the first time she asked, he told her he would like another juice to drink, the second time he timidly asked, “Do you know if I’m going to be in--urk--trouble?”

The nun smiled softly and stroked his head. “No, I do not believe you will.”

Feeling a sense of mild relief, Tweek started to ask for another juice, when Father Maxie came into the sanctuary. With a nod to the nun, he dismissed her then took a seat next to Tweek on the pew.

He put a hand on Tweek’s shoulder. “Hello, my child, are you feeling better now?”

“I think so,” Tweek replied honestly.

“Good, good,” Father Maxie said. He paused a moment and look at Tweek in a way that made his anxiety spike. It was the same look Father Maxie wore when he was going to ask the congregation a tough question that would make all the adults turn their gazes away in shame.

“Tweek, I’ve seen you go to the graveyard to sit by yourself quite often lately,” Father Maxie continued. “Is everything alright, my child? Are you doing ok? I am always here if you need to talk. You know that The Lord has many, many great plans for you in your future, don’t you?”

He gave Tweek a look so sympathetic, it boarded on pity. Tweek didn’t like that. He didn’t need a priest of all people giving him pity for being a freak and a weirdo!

Tweek scooted away and fixed his gaze on the stain glass window over the pulpit.

“It’s quiet there, not like the coffee shop. I like things quiet to do my homework and think,” Tweek lied, somehow keeping his tone indifferent with only his usual quiver.

“Ah, I see.”

Tweek didn’t think Father Maxie saw anything, but Father Maxie let the conversation drop anyway and changed to asking Tweek about how school was and what they were teaching nowadays in fourth grade. Tweek replied with the bare minimum amount of words he could until his parents came to pick him up

Father Maxie took his parents aside to talk with them a moment, just out of Tweek’s earshot. Tweek could only assume Father Maxie knew the names of the sixth graders and was telling his parents so they could talk to their parents —- which would lead to Tweek having his head shoved in a urinal until the urinal cake went down his throat.

After thanking the priest and promising they would try to put a little more in the collection plate come Sunday--Tweek knew that was a lie--the Tweaks drove back home.

His mom heated up some leftover spaghetti from the night before and placed it and a big glass of milk in front of Tweek, patting between his shoulder blades. She pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“You’re my good boy, Tweek. I love you.” She whispered to him, before giving him a half hug around the shoulders. After that, his parents let him eat in silence. Maybe they were scared if they spoke too loudly, Tweek would vomit again.

As he ate, he thought about what happened with Kenny at the graveyard today. He didn’t know what ghostly powers Kenny used to fight back against the sixth graders, but that wasn’t important. What was important was that Kenny had used them for him. He cared about Tweek so much Kenny risked sixth graders to help him!

Ghost or not, Tweek thought Kenny was the coolest person ever.

Tweek swallowed the last fork full of noodles, then chugged the rest of his milk. Before he could ask to be excused, his dad leaned across the table and set a large, warm hand over Tweek’s.

“Tweek, son, can we have a word?” He asked as if Tweek had a choice but to stay put.

“Um, yeah, Dad?” Now Tweek started to nervously fidget with his fork.

“Father Maxie told us you’ve been spending a lot of time at the graveyard recently,” his dad started. “Why is that? Are you feeling alright? No one is bullying you at school? Are you happy, son?”

Tweek’s head spun with explanations he could give that would convince his parents to drop the topic, or at least make sure they didn’t stop him from going anymore. He wasn’t hurting anyone, so there was no reason for them to stop him, but still, the tone in his dad’s voice was cautious and strained, though Tweek didn’t know why.

“I’m fine. No one is bullying me. I’m actually really happy.” Tweek replied, but his parents didn’t look convinced. What could Tweek possibly say to pacify them without explaining everything?

Think, Tweek! Think!

Then Tweek had a terrible idea that he just knew would work.

~~~~~~

“You told your parents what?!” Kenny doubled over, holding his stomach. He wiped away a tear that wasn’t there. “Ok, ok, ok, let me get this straight. You told your parents you’re gay, and you wanted to ask me out when I was alive, and now you come to my grave to pretend to talk to me because you regret missing your chance?”

Tweek blushed. “It worked, didn’t it? Ack! I said what I had to. Mom and Dad were worried about me.” While fiddling to fix his shirt buttons, Tweek went on, “Honestly, I’m glad I said it though, even if it was mostly a lie. It’s weird having my parents know I’m gay, but they took it well. I spend the rest of the evening listening to them make plans for a big Pride event at the shop when June rolls around.”

Tweek laughed at the memory, joining in with Kenny. His parents had all but forgotten about their own gay son as they starting trying to think of new Pride-themed items for the menu or how much banners and flags to hang outside the shop would cost.

The most acknowledgment Tweek got the rest of the evening was his dad giving him twenty dollars and saying he hoped Tweek would be confident enough to come out to the rest of the town soon--since that would be great for the business.

Tweek and Kenny finally sputtered out with Kenny shaking his head.

“You know Tweek, I’m flattered.” He gave a cheeky grin. “Flattered to be your first one that got away.” Kicking his legs out, Kenny nodded. “Actually, I think I’m regretful, too. If I knew you were this cool when I was alive, I don’t think I would have minded if you asked me on a date.”

Tweek snorted and rolled his eyes, but on the inside, his heart did a funny little skip. For a moment, he tried to chalk it up to his anxiety acting up, as it sometimes did, but he couldn't lie to himself for long.

In one fell swoop, Kenny had usurped Jimmy’s option at the top of Tweek’s list.

“Yeah...thank you.” Tweek pretended to flip through his history book. “Oh, um, my parents also said I’ll have to start going back to my therapist, too. This morning, at breakfast, Mom told me she scheduled me an appointment.”

“Oh?” Kenny titled his head. “I’m...sorry? Is a therapist like going to a normal doctor? I hated going to normal doctors.” His face twisted in disgust.

“No, this is a good thing!” Tweek smiled. “I liked my therapist. He was nice and helped a lot, but I guess he helped too much. Since after six sessions, my parents thought I had to be ‘cured’ and made me stop going.” A sigh and he went on, “So it’s good to go back, but that means I won’t be able to come here as often.”

Kenny frowned for a fraction of a second before his cheery disposition returned.

“That’s ok!” he told him. “If this doctor is helping you feel better, I would be a very bad friend to make you skip appointments to hang out with me.”

Tweek buried his reddening face in his book. “Kenny, you’re really cool.”

Kenny blinked at the unexpected compliment then looked away. Was he embarrassed? Hadn’t anyone ever told Kenny he was cool?

Tweek refused to believe that, but lowered his book and repeated himself, “You are really cool. Way cooler than any of those jack asses you hung around with.”

Kenny fingered the drawstrings of his parka then tugged them slightly, closing the hood tighter around his face.

“Thanks, dude,” he replied in a quiet voice, not quite looking at Tweek, but just over his shoulder. Tweek was glad for that. If Kenny had met his eyes, he might have died.

~~~~~~

“You need to make some more friends who want to have you around and can appreciate you for you” is what his therapist told Tweek after the second session.

He suggested that Tweek join a sport or club, but Tweek didn’t feel like he could do that. Sports were a commitment and he had his job and chores to deal with. Clubs were too much pressure to deal with too! They had hierarchies where he would be at the very bottom!

When Tweek mentioned his fears to Kenny, Kenny tapped his lower lip with his finger for a moment, then suggested, “Print out a picture offline of something you really like, and tape it to your binder. Maybe someone else who likes it will try to talk to you.”

Tweek wasn't sure about that but decided to give it a try. He used a text document and made a collage of his favorite superhero, Sailor Moon, printed it, and put it in the plastic covering of his homework binder. While he walked in the halls, he made sure to have the binder facing out so other people could see it.

Unsurprisingly, Kenny’s idea worked.

At first, it was the girls who flocked around him. Some knew who Sailor Moon was, and some just thought she looked cool, but either way, Tweek happily accepted the invites to sit down with them and talk.

He even gathered the courage to ask some of them to come to watch some episodes using Tweak Bro’s wifi after school on days it was too rainy or cold to go see Kenny.

Then, about a week later, while Tweek was searching for one of his pencils in his messy locker, Craig tapped on his shoulder.

“Hey, Tweek.” He waved, then pointed to Tweek’s binder. “Do you like anime?”

Tweek looked down at the moon princess then nodded warily. Was Craig going to pick on him for it? Some sixth graders had teased him for liking a ‘weird, girly, Japanese cartoon’ before, luckily for Tweek, Bebe was there and politely told the sixth graders that Sailor Moon was the best and strongest hero ever, better than Superman even, and they should leave Tweek alone.

Of course, the sixth graders didn’t leave Tweek alone, but he still really appreciated that someone stuck up for him.

Craig hummed. “Just Sailor Moon? Or do you like others? Like Red Racer?”

This felt like a test.

“Um, I think so? I’ve only seen a few episodes, but I think it’s really cool! I like the tiny elephant sidekick,” Tweek replied honestly.

Craig regarded Tweek once more before he asked, “The new movie comes out on Saturday. Me and my friends are going to watch the newest season before we go. We’re starting after school tomorrow and having a sleepover on Friday. You can join us if you want.”

~~~~~

Tweek had never been so excited when he rushed to the graveyard to tell Kenny his news after school.

“You said yes, right?” Kenny bounced in shared excitement.

“Yeah! I mean, I need to ask my parents, but I don’t think they’ll say no.” Tweek chuckled to himself before spin round before falling back into the snow. He winced. His bruise had mostly healed, but the fall still hurt.

“So, I won’t see you until next week?” Kenny asked, poorly hiding the disappointment in his voice.

Tweek pushed himself up on his elbows. “I guess not. I’m sorry. Should I cancel one of the days?”

Shaking his head, Kenny declined, “No, don’t do that. Have fun and...” he flashed a wicked smile, “don’t puke lunch on Token’s expensive shoes or Jimmy’s crutches.”

Tweek wanted to tell Kenny that for the last month or so, he hadn’t felt sick around either Token or Jimmy since Kenny had taken over the top spots of his list.

Of course, he didn’t dare say a word of that.

~~~~

Red Racer was a pretty good anime. Tweek liked the races and the cool mech transformations. The plot was a little confusing since he started three seasons in, but Craig and his friends were happy to explain the parts that confused Tweek as they lounged around the Tucker’s living room.

By Friday, Tweek more or less understood the plot, the character’s motivations, and was excited about the movie.

Clyde picked up a popcorn kernel from the bottom of the now empty bowl and threw it at Token’s head. It ricocheted off his temple and landed square on Craig’s pizza slice. Craig reached over and push Clyde clean off the couch and right onto Tweek.

Tweek gasped and struggled to sit up, but Clyde was like a heavy, limp doll on his chest. Finally, Jimmy grabbed Clyde’s arm and hauled him off.

“S-shit, dude!” Tweek gasped, hand to his chest. “I thought I was going to die!”

“Nice going, Clyde.” Token took the throw pillow from his side and pushed it down on Clyde’s head. “Trying to kill Tweek. Are you scared we’ll kick you out for him?”

“No!” Clyde shoved the pillow away. “I’m way cooler than Tweek.”

Craig snorted. “Uh-huh. Sure. ‘Cooler’. I don’t think you can beat Tweek’s ‘hangs out in a graveyard’ level of cool.”

Tweek flinched back. Craig knew about that?

“Oh yeah! I head the s-s-s-sixth graders talking about that during recess,” Jimmy said around a bite of pizza. “Why do you do that, Tweek?”

“I, um, I, u-uh...” Tweek’s brain spun for a lie.

All of the boys' eyes were on him now. None of them looked malicious, but how did Tweek know they weren’t hiding it? How did he know that they weren’t doing this Red Racer marathon just to get dirt on him?

He swallowed. He couldn’t tell the others everything he told his parents, but he could strip it down a little.

“Do you guys remember Kenny McCormick?”

Craig nodded solemnly. “Yeah. He was a nice guy, even if he hung out with assholes.”

“Well, his grave is in there, and I feel bad that he died when he was so young. Urk! I guess I also regret that I didn’t know him all that well before he got sick. Especially since I replaced him with his own friends. Going there and sitting near by his grave, I feel connected to what could have been, if we were friends, you know?” Tweek chewed his lip.

Would they believe that? Would they call him a weirdo and make him walk home?

Jimmy reached over and set a greasy hand on Tweek’s shoulder with a nod. “I think we all miss him. I’m sure, up in H-Hea-Heaven, Kenny appreciates you coming to visit.”

Even without speaking to each other, the rest of the boys shared Jimmy’s sentiment. Tweek let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when Token suddenly pointed at the TV.

“Hey! This is my favorite episode! This is the one with Purple Racer and the Power Stone! Everyone shut up!” He waved his hand at them all, leaning forward with his chin in his palm.

At that, the topic was dropped.

~~~~~~

On Saturday evening, Tweek was on cloud nine as he headed towards the graveyard.

The movie was so good! He had to tell Kenny all about it. Kenny wouldn’t mind spoilers, would he? Even if he did, Kenny had to hear about everything that happened with Craig and his friends.

Token had actually invited Tweek over to play basketball at his house with him and Clyde on Wednesday! Jimmy even wanted to try out some jokes on Tweek before his next show.

Kenny would be so proud that Tweek was making other friends; he was certain he would be!

As he neared, the sound of sobbing came to his ears.

Kenny sat on his headstone, knees pulled up to his chest, as he cried into his hands.

“Kenny?” Tweek raised his hand before dropping it. “What’s wrong?”

Kenny’s head shot up. His lips quivered as he stared at Tweek for an uncomfortably long time.

“What’s the matter?” Tweek tried again. “Are you alright?”

“No! I’m not alright,” Kenny wailed, hiding his face in his hands again. “It’s not fair! God’s being mean to me again!”

“What?”

Kenny slowly lowered himself off the headstone, rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm even though he didn’t have any tears. “Tweek, do you remember a month or two ago, when you told me you were gay? I never told you my secret.”

Tweek had completely forgotten about that. Kenny said it wasn’t as good as Tweek’s secret, but whatever it was, it was important enough to make him cry.

“What’s your secret?”

Kenny shuffled side to side a moment before sighing. He gestured to his headstone. “Read it and tell me what’s wrong with it.”

Tweek furrowed his brow as he realized he’d never once read Kenny’s headstone in full. At most, he had only read Kenny’s name when he bonked his head against it. Every other time, Kenny either sat right in front of his stone or let his legs cover it.

Stooping down, Tweek ran his fingers along the carved letters as he read.

“‘Kenneth ‘Kenny’ McCormick, rest well sweet angel in the arms of God, Free of pain and sickness. March twenty-second to J...’” Tweek trailed off. He looked up at Kenny with a frown. “‘June eight.’ Kenny, why does it say you died in June? And the year is from nearly seven years ago!”

“You think you're a weirdo and a freak, Tweek? You’re as average as white bread compared to me.” Kenny laughed, dry and bitterly. “That’s my secret, Tweek: I can’t stay dead. I don’t know why or how to stop it. I’ve never stayed dead, not any of the tens of times I’ve died before.”

A new batch of sobs escaped his throat. “I thought for sure it would stick this time, Tweek. It hurt so much more to die than ever before. It felt different. I wanted it to be different. I didn’t want to come back.”

Tweek scrambled to his feet. “That’s impossible. If you died before, I know I would remember it.”

“No, you wouldn’t. No one does. That’s what makes it so hard.” Kenny sniffled. “I die, I come back, and everyone acts as if I just ran away or was kicked out or whatever. I fucking hate it! I’m just the poor, dirty kid who can’t stay dead. I’m the freak, Tweek. I’m the weirdo. You’re just a kid with a tic. A normal kid.”

“Kenny...” Tweek wasn’t sure what to say.

“I’m going to come back to life soon. I can feel it. I’m going to come back and...and—and you won’t remember all the time we have together,” Kenny cried. “I want you to remember. It’s not fair I’m going to lose you like this! Not when I just...” His sobs overtook anything else he had to say.

Tweek took a step forward when he noticed that Kenny’s feet had disappeared. His legs were already fading away when Tweek stomped his foot to gain Kenny’s attention.

“I won’t forget! I promise I won’t!” Tweek announced. “We’ll hang out at Tweak Bros and go play basketball with Token and sing silly German songs and everything! I swear I won’t forget!”

“I’d like that, but,” Kenny’s stomach disappeared as Kenny forced a smile, “yes, you will. Everyone does.”

“I won’t,” Tweek repeated, his voice shaking with his own sobs. “I can’t forget everything you’ve done to help me. I’ll remember, Kenny. I will.”

Now his shoulders were gone.

Kenny chuckled with a shake of the head. “I really hope you do.”

“I won’t let you really be the one that got away! I won’t!” Tweek exclaimed, his vision blurred, but by the time he took a shaking step forward, the ghost of Kenny McCormick was gone.

~~~~~~

Kenny felt like shit. Normally he felt bad after coming back from the dead, all tired and cold with his limbs aching, but today was worse. Today he felt tired, cold, and achy along with a heavy dread that clung to his heart.

He didn’t want to get up. He didn’t want to go out and find his friends at the park or even pull the covers off of his living body. He wanted to stay and melt into the torn mattress and stop existing. The only reason he got up was when he heard a small gasp from the door and say Karen staring at him.

For a moment, he’d hoped that maybe she was surprised to see him alive and his curse was broken.

But instead the shock faded quickly from her eyes and she told Kenny it was time for breakfast.

His mom hugged him when he came into the living room. She squeezed him so tight, it hurt to breathe before placing a kiss on his forehead.

“Oh, Kenny, I love you so much. My precious, darlin’ little man.” His mom whispered into his hair. She still smelled like cigarettes and beer and the cheap perfume his dad bought for her on Mother’s Day every year.

Even in his bleak mindset, he had to admit he missed that smell.

“I, uh, I love you, too, Mom,” Kenny replied. It felt so strange to feel the vibration from his voice when he spoke.

“What are you doin’, woman?” His dad asked from the table. “Let the boy go. He ain’t dyin'.”

She reluctantly released him but patted Kenny’s head before standing up.

“Mommy, can I have a hug, too, please?” Karen asked, tugging at her shirt hem.

“Well, of course, you can, sweet pea.” Their mom stooped down to hug her and Kenny made a beeline for the table before he could be pulled into another hug.

His dad turned the page in his newspaper. “Sleep well, Kenny? You seemed sick yesterday. That cough and all.”

Could he have trouble breathing, if he didn’t have breath?

Kenny shrugged. Before he could answer, Kevin walked in. To Kenny’s surprise, he looked presentable, dressed up and cleaned. He even had his hair slicked back.

“The fuck you look so fancy for?” Kenny asked as Kevin slid into a chair.

Kevin looked at him, furrowing his brow, a moment, as if he were trying to figure out just what was wrong with his little brother, before shaking it off.

“It’s Sunday? Church? Did you cough your brains out last night, dingus?” Kevin rolled his eyes.

Karen picked up her faded plush doll and headed towards the table. “Kevin’s trying to get that pretty girl to hold hands with him, remember, Kenny? The one with the blond curls,” Karen held up her doll, nodding at the doll’s faded yellow hair, “who made Kevin blush last weekend?”

“I didn’t blush!” Kevin snapped, face red. “I ain’t dressed up for her either. I just...wanna look nice for church.” He didn’t look at Kenny or Karen as he said that. With a smile, their mom patted Kevin’s back

“Well, even if you ain't, I’m sure that girl will like you anyway,” Their mom told him as she set a plate of flat pancakes in front of him before moving to deliver the rest of the family breakfast.

“And if she don’t, just lay on that Old McCormick Charm,” their dad shut the newspaper. “Works on the ladies every time.” He patted their mom’s hip as she passed, and she giggled, kissing his temple.

Karen picked up her pancake with her fingers and began to pull it apart. “Is that how come I was able to make so many girl friends?”

Kenny smiled to himself, pleased that Tweek hadn’t been pulling his chain when he said Karen was happy. Actually, all his family seemed to be happy. His parents were getting along. Kevin was trying to get himself a girl. Karen had a bunch of friends.

Kenny hoped it would last now that he was back.

After their dad quickly ended the conversation about the Old McCormick Charm, the family ate breakfast, normal as Kenny could remember. He was gone for nearly half a year and no one remembered.

His stomach churned. Kenny pushed away his half-finished plate.

“Can I skip church today?” He asked, faking a cough into his fist. “I still feel a little bit sick.”

Admittedly, he didn’t want to go anywhere near the church. Months in that blasted graveyard, listening to the distant sermons or watching tear filled funerals were Father Maxie said the same words over and over to grieving families had worn him out on going to church for a while.

His mom reached over and touched his forehead. “Ya don’t feel hot, but since you were sick yesterday, I guess that’ll be alright. I’ll wrap up your plate. You can eat the rest later.”

Kenny nodded and pushed himself away from the table. After wishing Kevin good luck in getting his girl, Kenny lumbered back to his bed and flopped down. He curled into a ball and forced himself to sleep.

When he woke up, the house was quiet. Kenny looked around his room. His stuff had been moved around and there were several boxes labeled ‘clothes’ and ‘toys’ stacked in the corner. He knew he should probably get to unpacking those and setting his life back up, but Kenny suddenly felt claustrophobic and trapped in his house, in a room that hadn’t been his in months.

Throwing off the covers, Kenny shoved his shoes on his feet and hurried out the door to let his feet take him wherever they wanted to go.

~~~~~~

After twenty minutes of wandering, Kenny found himself standing outside of Tweak Bro’s. His stomach churned. Should he go in and see if Tweek remembered him? Did he even want to know? Maybe he should put it off until school Monday and go find Stan, Kyle, and Cartman.

Kenny shook himself.

No. If he didn’t do this now, it would eat at him all day.

With a shaking hand, he reached out and gave the door a firm tug.

It was locked.

Of course, Tweak Bro’s wasn’t open on Sundays.

Shaking his head, Kenny sat on the bench out front. A cold wind bit his exposed face and Kenny nearly yelped. It had been so long since he had felt the physical cold like that.

Kenny readjusted his hood. He didn’t want to head home. He didn’t want to talk to his friends.

He didn’t know what he wanted, so he sat and brooded on the bench for half an hour.

Several people passed, each giving him that same look Kevin did, trying to figure out what was wrong with him and why he looked so out of place. Each time he noticed someone staring, Kenny flipped them off and glared. He didn’t particularly want to be reminded of his status as a freak.

Finally, Kenny forced himself to his feet. His legs were asleep with pins and needles. The sensation was just as annoying as he remembered.

Telling himself to go home, Kenny shoved his hands deep in his parka and began towards his house. As he stopped at the crosswalk, the sound of hurried footsteps came from behind him. He turned around, ready to side step out of the way, just as someone tackled him to his bottom.

“Kenny! Kenny, you’re alive!” Tweek sobbed into Kenny’s shoulder. He squeezed him tighter. “I went to your grave after church and you weren’t there anymore! I thought I might have--errr!--dreamed the whole thing!”

Kenny blinked before turning his head to look at Tweek’s shock of blond hair.

“You remember? You remember me being a ghost?” Kenny whispered, afraid that if he spoke too loudly, this blessed illusion would break into a million pieces.

Tweek pulled back but kept his hands on Kenny’s shoulders. “Yes! I remember! I promised I wouldn’t forget, and I didn’t!” He grinned at him, and Kenny’s heart skipped a beat. A feeling that made his head rush from the experience of it.

Tears blurred Kenny’s vision. He couldn’t believe this. Someone remembered! Someone he really cared about remembered.

Kenny didn’t care how this happened: if this was God making up for the curse or Tweek hitting his head against his headstone did it. It didn’t matter. He’d never felt so elated in his life.

Kenny wrapped his arms around Tweek and hugged him so tightly, he was surprised he didn’t hear the cracking of bones.

Tweek remembered! Tweek, this boy who came and sat with him day after day for months just because Kenny asked him to; this sweet, kind-hearted boy that let Kenny help with his homework and shared the latest gossip and checked on Karen and brought him a present on his birthday; this boy that Kenny had slowly but surely developed quite the crush on, he remembered.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!” Kenny swallowed down the lump forming in his throat. “I don’t know how I can ever make it up to you, Tweek.”

“Well, you can not freak out when I, um, say what I have to say.” Tweek gently pushed Kenny away. He took a breath and continued, “Kenny, I have a confession. I promised God if I ever saw you alive again, I’d say this. I hope this won’t make anything weird. I, argh, I like you--like a lot, a lot. More than a friend.”

Kenny blinked. For a moment, he thought he was going to die from happiness after less than a day back.

“I like you, too--like a lot, a lot,” Kenny replied instantly, nearly stumbling over his words in his rush to say them.

Tweek’s face went beet red. He scrambled to his feet, wiping the dirt from his jeans, then held out his hand to Kenny. Kenny let himself be hauled up, but he wasn’t going to let go of Tweek’s hand.

No matter what happened, he wasn’t going to let himself be the one that got away ever again.

~~~

AN: Thank you all for all the support. This pair is has a fun dynamic to play with x3c

#south park #twenny #tweek tweak #kenny mccormick #multi-chapter

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blue-eyed-lioness · 5 years

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21 Questions

Rules: Answer 21 questions and then tag 21 people you want to get to know better.

Reminder to those tagged: You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to 🖤

Tagged by: @pandassiin thank you ;)

Nicknames: quite a few actually... mostly Tamy though :)

Zodiac: Gemini

Height: 1.67 m (so 5′6 I guess?)

Hogwarts house: Ravenclaw

Last thing googled: Lucifer season 4 cast

Do you get asks: no (are my asks even open? i have no idea...)

Amount of sleep: not enough...

Lucky number: 3 and 13 work for me :)

What are you wearing: red shirt, plain jeans, too hot for anything else -.-

Dream trip: none at the moment... always wanted to travel to Africa, but I already did that so... I`m happy i guess?

Instruments: Violin <3

Languages: German, English, (very poor) Latin, would love to learn more!

Favourite songs: so many... ASP - :Duett, Vivaldi - Violin Concerto in A Minor (ever since I played that on the Violin, also great for studying), Rolling Stones - Paint it black, Die Toten Hosen - Bonnie & Clyde, Florence + The Machine - Sky Full Of Song, Emma Blackery - Icarus, Sonata Arctica - My Selene and so many more...

Random fact: I just handed in my bachelors thesis 2 weeks ago!

Aesthetics: peonies, old books, black cats, (Edit, cause how could I forget that?) wolf skulls

tagging: what do you mean tag 21 people? I don’t know 21 people! @andthenfiction @liebiing @sdavid09 @elisetheanaconda and everyone reading this! (sorry if any of you already did this, my memory is a mess)

#tag game #me #.txt

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floral-and-fine · 7 years

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Turtle Dove

tur·tle·dove /ˈtərdlˌdəv/ noun

turtle-dove

a small Old World dove with a soft purring call, noted for the apparent affection shown for its mate.

Clyde Logan x Female!reader

Soulmate AU (my first soulmate AU story!! So excited! I love soulmate fics :D)

Warnings: some cussing I think. Mostly just fluff and feels. possibly movie spoilers

A/N: Clyde Logan owns my ass. That is all.

Clyde sat on the couch with his elbows on knees. The TV was on but he couldn't care less about what he was watching. On the coffee table, his beer sat getting warm and flat.

Another damn cauliflower scheme and this one intentionally involved him getting arrested and incarcerated. There were plenty of reasons to object to his brother's crazy plan, but the outcome, if they could pull it off, would be incredible.

Absentmindedly, Clyde ran his thumb across the wrist of his prosthetic arm. This was a nervous habit of his, something he did whenever he was feeling nervous or worried.

He looked down at the wrist, black letters spelling 'y/n' were written across it. The letters were worn on some parts, he figured that it was partly from him rubbing his thumb over it so often.

He had done his best to copy her name just like he remembered it. But it was difficult, every time he tried to remember how it looked on his real arm it was kind of blurry, like for a second it would be perfectly clear, then gone the next.

Losing his arm was an unexpected tragedy, and what made it even worse was losing his soulmate tattoo. Clyde took it for granted, figuring that it was his soulmate mark, and therefore, he'd have it forever.

When he received his prosthetic hand, Clyde worked hard on adding her name to it, trying to capture the curves and pattern of her handwriting to the best of his ability.

He wondered what she thought of his handwriting every time she looked at his chicken scratch across her wrist spelling 'Clyde'. Did it comfort her? Did she wonder what he was like as much as he wondered about her?

Clyde took out a black sharpie, and with extra care he traced the letters again, making her name look even more vibrant on the skin colored plastic. Her named shined while the ink dried.

"Y/n," he whispered to himself.

His mind started to wander to thoughts that he often pushed back. Thoughts he tried to ignore but always lingered around. Like whether or not he'd still feel anything if she were near without his real mark?

People described a burning sensation coming from their mark alerting them that their soulmate was close. What if he doesn't feel a damn thing? What if she's the only one who feels it? Or, even worst, What if she's already felt it, but didn't want him. That she saw him, saw his arm, and rejected him without him knowing. And now here he was sitting like a fool, hoping that one day soon he'll find her.

He hoped that she wouldn't be disappointed with him, with his lifestyle or his lack of having a complete arm. If she did find him first, he hoped she'd let him know.

"Thinking about y/n?" Jimmy asked stepping into the living room with a beer in hand.

"Yep," Clyde muttered, still looking at her name. Jimmy flopped onto the couch. He took the remote and started flipping through the channels.

"I wouldn't worry about it, you'll meet her," Jimmy reassured Clyde, giving him a quick pat on the shoulder.

"My soulmate is bound to end up with a criminal, thanks to your plan," Clyde huffed, still bitter over his part in all this.

Jimmy shook his head, "It's fate, she's gonna end up with you whether you're a criminal or a saint. We've got nothing to lose except this opportunity."

"Well, our family hasn't the best of lu-,"

"Don't get started on all that crap about the Logan family curse," Jimmy warned, interrupting Clyde. "It'll all work out in the end, trust me."

Clyde rubbed his mark, in little circles, he wanted to desperately believe that.

On the day of the heist, losing his prosthetic arm was sudden and unexpected.

It immediately put Clyde into a panic, not only could this get him caught, but he was also losing his soulmate mark again.

Automatically, he started to try to see if he could get it out. Clyde shook his head his dark hair covering his face while his arms wrapped around the hose.

"Listen," Jimmy started trying to calm him down. "We can get a new one, hell we can you hundreds of new arms, but not if we get caught."

"This one has her name, almost like the real one... I can't lose it," Clyde muttered, his head facing down, and yanking at the damn machine. "I can barely remember how it used to look...what if I forget completely?"

Jimmy put his hand on Clyde's back, "I promise I will not leave it here, but you have to go."

Clyde felt torn over the whole situation but staying meant getting caught for sure. He'd have to trust Jimmy. He tried one more time to get it out before reluctantly leaving.

Clyde still couldn't believe that they had pulled it off. Clyde stared at the new arm. It was sleek, fancy, and functional, Jimmy even had someone engrave y/n's name on it. His fingers traced over the grooves of her name. At least, he didn't have to keep retracing it on this arm.

The bar was quiet, not a single customer had stopped in. It was pouring cats and dogs outside, anyone would have to be crazy to be out in it. Although who was he to judge anyone for being crazy? He was the crazy idiot who agreed to his brother's plan.

He figured it would be best to go ahead and close the place up for the night. No point in staying open without any customers.

He started cleaning the bar wiping the counter off, putting the glasses on the shelf and restocked.

A loud knocking sound interrupted his work.

Clyde frowned at the door, who in the world was trying to get in? Probably Earl or one of the other barflies.

"We're closed," he hollered, continuing to flip the chairs over.

"Please?" a woman's voice begged from the other side. "I'm having car trouble."

Clyde sighed, he couldn't leave a lady standing out there alone in this kind of weather.

"Give me a minute," he grunted putting the last barstool on the counter.

Clyde headed towards the door. Then it hit him, an unfamiliar burning sensation. Wincing, his hand automatically cradled his wrist, and that's when he noticed that the feeling was coming from his left arm.

The pounding on the door had halted as well. He ran his thumb over his wrist, over the engraving of his soulmate's name, y/n.

Clyde approached the door. As he did so the burning became stronger. His heart was racing so fast that it was almost painful.

So this is what it feels like.

He rested his forehead against the door and asked in a shaky voice, "Are you feeling that too?"

He was trembling, his nerves on edge. He didn't feel ready to meet her. In fact, he never felt so anxious in his life.

"Clyde?" she mumbled, to verify that this was real.

He closed his eyes, her voice sounded so sweet. He knew without even seeing her yet, that he loved her.

"Y/n," he muttered back.

"Oh God, this really is happening?" she asked.

"It is," he confirmed.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah, of course, just... Just give me a second," Clyde tucked his shirt back in and raked his hand through his hair trying to make himself look more presentable. He took a deep breath. This was it. He knew he'd love her no matter what, hopefully, she'd feel the same way.

Clyde unlocked the deadbolt and pushed the door open.

There was no turning back now.

There she was taking shelter under the porch. She looked so beautiful. Her wet hair clung to her face, just like her sopping wet T-shirt clung to her figure. She was holding her hand against her chest over her heart.

They stared at each other, just taking it all in. Clyde's eyes studied her face. He already adored every part of her.

The wind picked up, causing y/n to shiver.

Clyde blinked, coming out of his daze, "Sorry, you must be freezing." He stepped aside to let her in. "I wasn't... expecting anyone, especially not you," he explained.

She smiled and started to cry wiping her tears, "I'm sorry, I must just look a mess right now."

Clyde shook his head, "You're more beautiful than I could've hoped for."

She shook her head, giggling, "You are too. Except you know, handsome, and much taller than I thought you'd be."

Y/n cautiously reached out and touched the part of his arm where her name was engraved, "looks just like my handwriting."

"I didn't want to forget," he muttered.

Y/n nodded her head, she couldn't imagine what he has been through. But it did make her feel warm to know that he wanted to still have her name on his arm.

"Can I hold you?" Clyde asked, averting his gaze.

Y/n felt her heart melt being asked such a question in such an innocent way.

"I'm still pretty wet and cold," she reminded him.

"I don't mind," Clyde rubbed the back of his head. "Actually, I could help warm you up," he offered.

He pulled y/n into his arms, her face buried against his chest. Her hands clutched his shirt. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She smelled like rain.

"There's a couple of things, I gotta finish around here," Clyde explained, slowly letting y/n go. "Maybe we can talk for a bit, or somethin' after."

Turns out y/n was having her own troubles with bad luck on this particular day. She had gotten lost trying to find her way to her destination. Got pulled over for a ticket, even though she didn't do a thing wrong. Then her car had broken down on the highway near the bar, and as she walking it started raining.

"I can give you a ride home," Clyde offered.

"I live pretty far, and with this rain and it being so late as it is, I don't really want to be a bother."

"I don't want to come on too strongly, but you can stay the night with me," Clyde suggested.

"Here, you can change into this," Clyde handed her one of his old t-shirts. He figured it would be long enough to fit her like a nightgown.

"I'll give you some privacy," he muttered, closing the bedroom door behind him.

Y/n pressed the shirt against her face, it smelled just like him. The material of shirt was nice and soft. It was obviously one he had worn a lot.

She undressed, taking off everything except for her panties. She pulled his shirt over her head. It barely covered her ass, but it would be appropriate enough to sleep in.

Y/n stepped out of the room to find Clyde waiting out in the hall. He smiled, admiring how good she looked in his shirt.

"I'll sleep on the couch, and you can take my bed," he mentioned.

"Are you sure?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

"It'll be alright."

She rocked on her heels, trying to figure out how to say that she'd like for him to sleep with her. Y/n understood that he probably wanted to things somewhat slow, seeing how they just met, but she also had this need just be near him.

"Everything okay?" Clyde asked, resting his hand on her shoulder. She looked at him, he was so perfect in her eyes. She wanted to spend every moment she could with him.

"Don't you think you'd be more comfortable sleeping with me?" she finally asked.

How could Clyde say no to a suggestion like that? He nodded.

"I promise, I won't do anything that's improper or unwelcomed," he muttered with a serious look on his face.

"I know darlin'," y/n replied. She then stood on her tiptoes kissing him lightly on the lips.

They laid in bed together, her fingers playing with his hair that hung around his neck.

"Will you keep talking to me until I fall asleep?" she asked nuzzling her face against his shoulder.

"What about, turtle dove?"

"Anything, I just want to listen to you talk," y/n couldn't get enough of his voice, the way he spoke and his accent was all too appealing.

"Well, I could tell you about the time I went to juvie or the 3 months I recently spent in prison?"

"What did you do?" y/n asked looking at him wide-eyed, but smiling.

Clyde stroked her back while he started at the beginning, telling her about his brother and his cauliflower plans.

At some point they had fallen asleep, Clyde shifted a bit in bed. Y/n stirred in his arms, he held her closer to himself. He could feel her chest rise and fall in sync with his own breathing. He listened to her soft breaths and heartbeat falling back into a deeper sounder sleep.

In the morning, Clyde woke up but y/n was already gone. He felt slightly disappointed, seeing how he wanted to hold her as much as he could. He got out of bed and shuffled out of his bedroom.

"Mornin'! I hope you don't mind that I helped myself to your kitchen. Thought it would be nice to have breakfast together," she explained standing in front of the stove.

Clyde smiled to himself, she looked pretty darn cute concentrating while frying the eggs.

"Oh shoot! I think I burnt the bacon," y/n complained, pushing the pieces around with tongs.

Clyde chuckled walking up behind her.

"Just the way I like," he whispered, wrapping an arm around her from behind, kissing her shoulder.

Taglist: @skellingtonbatz , @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @letusunalivethem

#logan lucky #logan lucky fic #logan lucky fanfic #logan lucky fanfiction #logan lucky imagine #Clyde logan #clyde logan fanfic #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan imagine #Clyde logan fanfiction #adam driver #Soulmate au #soulmate #reader insert #logan lucky clyde logan

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fivepercentgodsandearths · 6 years

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9 Reaches To Decode Black Panther **SPOILERS ALERT** After seeing the Black Panther film I knew I had to pen a think piece to share what I saw. Not to debate the pros or cons of seeing it but to share with those who did see it some deeper insight into the symbolism, folklore and science throughout the film. Even though Black Panther is a 1966 comic developed by a couple of Jewish guys, Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, when Christopher Priest, a black man, began writing the Black Panther comic in 1998, this character served as the inspiration behind the Marvel Studios film Black Panther. The story is about T'Challa, heir to a mythical NE African throne in the land of Wakanda; an isolated society comprised of 18 tribes who for centuries has possessed an alien element called vibranium that they acquired from a fallen meteor. Nearly indestructible and one of the most powerful substances on the planet, vibranium is used to create wealth and the highest technological advances known to humans. It is also the element that was used to forge Captain America's shield. Wisely hidden away from the outside world, the Black Panther and his council of tribal of elders known as the Taifa Ngao, have primarily kept Wakanda safe and free from outside influence for the majority of their existence. Like the Five Percent as in Wakandan culture, education or knowledge is viewed as a fundamental building block of its nation. As all things change, Wakandan culture is eventually discovered and the 10% [world’s powers] plot to pillage their vibranium. T’Challa’s father T'Chaka, the current Black Panther and King of Wakanda, is assassinated at the UN thus forcing T’Challa to step up and lead his people as the next Black Panther. The film covers his transition into that role and the challenges, literally, that come along with it. Before I get into the symbolism, folklore and science throughout the film, I think I need to give some context into why Black Panther Ain't Nuthing Ta F' Wit. First and foremost he is wealthier than any superhero in the DC or Marvel Universes. In other words, he's got more paper than Bruce Wayne, Tony Starks and Floyd Mayweather combined, and he has actual superpowers. Black Panther has super strength, psychic abilities, invisibility, super stamina, clairvoyance, master acrobat, healing factors, necromancy and other powers. If you, and especially the youth around you, have never really checked out the Black Panther comic I would encourage you to. If it's not you, what other fictional or nonfictional images of power are youth exposed to? If you cannot think of any, don't complain; either create them or support those who are creating them. Alright, here are some things I peeped in the Black Panther film that I think are worthy of sharing with you: 1. For my Yonians, central to the Wakandan culture was the worship of the Neteru Bast. Bast, in her ancient Kemetic zoomorphic form, is the symbol of the cat; what some people, particularly men, call a p*ssy. Partly symbolizing a protectress, Bast is the reasoning behind the powerful woman-led Dora Milaje warriors. This is also why present day f*ckboys seek to shack up with Bast women and take advantage of her Okoye loyalty. The heart-shaped sacred herb, a symbol of Bast's transferred power that enhances a person's strength, mobility, stamina, endurance and instincts, resembled a yoni and was cultivated in the subterranean regions of Wakanda... 2. A 'Monger' is a dealer or trader. 'Erik' is a Norse or Proto-Germanic name which means eternal ruler. Thus Erik Killmonger means "an eternal ruler who deals death." As a sexual innuendo of his toxic masculinity, his notches for "bodies" [body counts] went well beyond his belt and covered his entire upper body. He clearly had no love for women as shown by the non-relationship with his mother, shooting his Bonnie & Clyde companion in the head, choking out a elder caretaker of the heart-shaped herb and demanding that she burn its sacred garden, slitting the throat of one of the Dora Milaje, slicing Nakia across her leg and almost murdering Shuri. This is what he did, yet many women have still shown sympathy for Killmonger's actions. "I understand what he was trying to do" I've heard many women say, "to fight for oppressed people" -even though there was no tangible evidence of him working with oppressed people, which includes women. This helped me better understand why some women, not all women, rationalize staying in abusive relationships, keep dudes around because the sex is Killmonger and follow conscious community miscreants; Stockholm syndrome. Some of us love words and potential yet fail to acknowledge what folks are actually doing. I've seen the argument that Killmonger is the result of being left in America, disconnected from his people, and it's not his fault. I agree that abandonment was not his fault and Killmonger's feelings about that family dysfunction were understandable; many black people in the wilderness of North America can relate and feel the same way. Yet his resolve with those feelings, as an eternal ruler who deals death, was not wise nor did it make him a hero. From his own mouth he prided himself on his assimilation into "the white man's" society, via his military experience, and he brought those colonialist ways to Wakanda. King T'Chaka was wrong for abandoning Killmonger as a child in America and Killmonger was wrong for how he handled that disappointment, as an adult, with his family and people. We need warriors with the aggression and passion of a Killmonger, especially as a Border tribesman, but not sitting on no throne. His inconsideration for other men and insensitivity to women, children and the society at large were qualities of a self appointed tyrant who rules by fear, not the qualities of a just and true King. Killmonger's "Bury me in the ocean with my ancestors who jumped from ships, cause they knew death was better than bondage" quote and other revolutionary words were noble but I didn't see one act that demonstrated his capacity to be a loving Husband [King], a Father raising children [successors to the throne] with integrity and a Man of his people wisely working with his counsel of elders. 3. The burial ritual to connect with Wakandan ancestors and inherit the Bastian power of the Black Panther is similar to the Recapitulation technique some warriors in indigenous tribes use to also connect with their ancestral past and gain clarity of their life purpose. In Freemasonic lore it's also symbolic to the shallow grave the Master Architect Hiram Abiff was buried in before he was raised with a lion's paw grip. After you select an appropriate burial spot, usually among trees and in an isolated area beyond human disruption, a shallow grave is dug East [head] to West [feet] about 2 feet deep that's a little longer and wider than ones body. Next layer the bottom with a blanket. After that search the area for sticks and large leaves to cover the tomb that stops the soil from filtering through. You start covering the grave from the bottom to the top and once it's almost complete you climb in and finish covering it as you lay inside leaving a small hole for air. Fasting is important before you do it and the length of time you remain varies. I've done it for 24 hours and the best time to leave the grave is sunrise or sunset. The whole idea is to meditate on our demise as a form of detachment from the world. An earthen self-deprivation chamber, this is literally a place to reflect upon the past and present life and what they can do in the future. 4. M'Baku, King of the Jabari Tribe, in the comic he is the leader of the White Gorilla Cult because he gained his superhuman powers by killing a white gorilla, bathing in its blood, eating its flesh, and then he took on the name Man-Ape. The M'Baku line, "If you say one more word, I'll feed you to my children! I'm kidding. We're vegetarians" in the film was a play on that comic book backstory. Although the mountain ranges M'Baku and his tribe inhabit is nowhere near the Caucasus Mountains, I found it interesting that pre-Farrakhanian Nation of Islam members under the Honorable Elijah Muhammad [THEM] openly taught that white people [devils] that were exiled from our homeland and living in the caves tried to graft themselves back into the original black man. In the process some became [white] gorillas. In fact, he taught that the entire monkey family are from the 2,000 year history of the white race living in the Caucasus Mountains. Although M'Baku carried a shillelagh, THEM also taught that the guards of these mountain boarders kept weapons [flaming swords] to stop these humanoids from coming back among the original people. The above image is from the first page of the 1998 Black Panther comic by Christopher Priest where Agent Ross remarks that, "ZURI was into his THIRD re-telling of how the great god T’Chaka ran the evil white devils out from their ancient homeland." Naw I don't think Stan Lee, Ryan Coogler & Joe Robert Cole drew these parallels and wrote that. Christopher Priest obviously had knowledge of this and I could see the parallels. 5. After Get Out Chris Washington got WOKE, changed his gubment name to W'Kabi and started a rhinoceros farm on the fringes of Wakanda as leader of the Boarder tribe. After Rose 'Beckyed' him it's obvious he ain't been right since. 6. Tobias Whale is Killmonger's uncle; Killmonger's mother's brother. Whale developed a hatred for Black Lightning because N'Jobu reminded him of the Wakandans and the metahuman Black Panther who exiled albinos to the lands where they were hunted, killed and their bones ground up as a power potion, as Lady Eve reminded him. Green Light is a synthetic form of vibranium and when Quentin caught wind of what Killmonger was doing he came back to the Chi to re-stake his claim as a Frank Lucas-like vibranium plug for the 100. Lastly, Kevin was around at the end of the film asking T'Challa questions about his ship because he was with his family in Cali who happened to stay in the hood Killmonger grew up in. Kevin was out there laying low after shooting Ronnie. 7. When it comes to even just conceptualizing a Wakandian society, one of the downfalls of many men is trying to f*ck the Nakia's, Okoye's, Ayo's, Shuri's and Xoliswa's on their team instead of working with them. One of the downfalls of many women is allowing them to. 8. I loved seeing all of the Wakanda inspired regalia at the Black Panther movie premieres around the country. I haven't seen it since Kwanzaa and I look forward to seeing it again during Juneteenth. 9. Black Panther had the fifth biggest opening of all time and broke box office records during its opening weekend. It's the largest opening for a black Director, the second biggest opening for a Marvel Studios film and currently the #1 RATED FILM OF ALL TIME via Rotten Tomatoes. Not only does this demonstrate the earning potential of films told from our perspective but this, along with Get Out, is reshaping the false narrative that black themed films not doing box office numbers domestically and internationally. While some may see this as production houses and film companies becoming more open to our pitched ideas and potential larger pay dates, I see it as a watershed moment of self reliance and cooperative economics. Many of us already know our buying power as a black community, but willfully this galvanizes us to do more, culturally and artistically. Some felt as though nothing could top the response of Get Out, but here we have it, and this film won't be the last. Peace, Saladin Black Panther stars Chadwick Boseman, Michael B. Jordan, Lupita Nyong'o, Danai Gurira, Martin Freeman, Daniel Kaluuya, Letitia Wright and Winston Duke, with Angela Bassett, Forest Whitaker and Andy Serkis. The film is directed by Ryan Coogler and produced by Kevin Feige with Louis D’Esposito, Victoria Alonso, Nate Moore, Jeffrey Chernov and Stan Lee serving as executive producers. Ryan Coogler & Joe Robert Cole wrote the screenplay.

http://atlantisschool.blogspot.com/2018/02/9-reaches-to-decode-black-panther.html

#black lightning #Black Panther Movie #Prince Hall Freemasons #Free Masons #Black Africa #Afrikan #african #african gods #chadwick boseman #Angela Basset #Michael B Jordan #Elijah Muhammad #nation of gods and earths #Nation of Islam #African Tribes #lupita nyong'o #Black Love #Black Family

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sonicforcesau · 6 years

Text

Forced AU: Jackal Squad Arc, Part 4

When Clyde and Finnigan were leaving their room for breakfast minutes ago, they suddenly found themselves facing three other jackals.

The three jackals arrived in an old van, and it was made clear they meant no harm. Currently, the five all sat in the inn’s cafe, discussing something that the young thief wasn’t quite sure about.

“So, what is it that you wanted?” Finnigan asked to the only female sat at their table, playing with his almost-new pack of cigarettes on the table with one hand.

“I need your help.” replied Cassidy.

“She’s got on the bad side of Cyrus the Panther.” stated the red-hatted jackal. “Are you familiar with him?”

“Quite.” the Ultimate Mercenary crossed his arms as he frowned. “How did that happen?”

“Long story short - I failed to kill you, he tried to kill me, and I defended myself.” the female leaned forward as she sucked in a deep breath. “And I need your help. These guys are probably going to be in danger too because of me.”

Finnigan the Jackal unfolded his arms, taking out a stick of cigarette from the package before offering the depressant to the other jackals.

Cassidy drew out a stick from the pack, and the maned jackal placed the pack of cigarette back onto the table when it was made clear that there were no other smokers.

Lighting up the stick of tobacco, he sucked in a deep breath of smoke and slowly exhaled.

“... and he wants my head too, huh.” Finnigan pondered out loud enough for all the jackals to hear. He pulled out his black mobile phone. “I’ll have to make a call.”

And so the four jackals sat in silence as the Ultimate Mercenary scrolled through his phone and dialed a contact. He put his phone to the side of his head and waited for the call to connect.

“Vulpes.” He said as soon as the call connected. “I need your help.”

“Fire away, Finn.” came the smooth reply, and Finnigan felt a small surge of relief flow through his body.

“I might need Cyrus dead.”

“Cyrus the Panther?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you’d never ask. I’m free today; let’s meet up - You know where to find me.”

“I’ll call you back. See ya.”

The call ended.

As Finnigan put down his phone on the table next to the pack of cigarettes, he felt a smirk crawling its way onto his face. He then made eye contact with Cassidy.

The female removed the stick of cigarette from her mouth and exhaled, causing smoke to pour out along with her breath. “Something on my face?”

“You’re in luck.” he replied simply.

And so, the group of jackals got into the jackal trio’s black van with Cassidy behind the wheel in the right front seat.

With Finnigan’s directions, they drove to the secret meeting location that the maned jackal was quite familiar with - a small abandoned oil field hidden somewhere forgotten in the deserts of Mobius, which fitted the criteria for a secret place.

“All of you don’t look much older than me.” Finnigan commented after some silence along the road journey.

“That’s because we probably aren’t.” replied the red-hatted jackal, who rode shotgun. “I’m only nineteen. And my name’s Salvador.”

“That’s the same age as me.” Finnigan stated.

“No way…” came a reply from another voice. It was Jesse. “And you managed to become the Ultimate Mercenary?”

Finnigan shrugged. He didn’t feel like sharing what he has been through to get to this point. “What about you - how old are you?”

“Seventeen.” came the response. “The name’s Jesse. And no offense, but I thought you’d be, like, twenty something - at least.”

“He probably looks old from all the smoking he does!” joked the young thief, and Finnigan smirked.

“Is he your brother?” asked Salvador, referring to Clyde.

“Kinda. Well; Clyde here tried to steal from me, and I took him in.” the maned jackal replied, causing a smile to appear on Clyde’s face. “And he’s only sixteen.”

“Remind me to steal from you if I ever needed a place to stay.” the driver commented, making the rest of the jackals chuckle. “Anyway, we’re nearly there.”

It was already sometime after noon.

Moments after their conversation, Cassidy parked the van by the side of the lonely road. The jackals were greeted with the sight of an oil field, equipped with at least a dozen wells. It was abandoned, and it was apparent; for it looked forlorn and neglected with overgrown shrubs and sun-bleached structures.

The group was led to a cabin by Finnigan. Opening the door to one of the temporary office cabins, he was greeted with the sight of a familiar fox. Upon hearing the sound of door opening, the vulpine turned his head and stood up.

“Ah, Finn, I-” he suddenly stopped talking; noticing the figures behind the mercenary. “Friends of yours?”

“They’re with me.” Finnigan clarified, as the fox sat back down on his chair.

“Right. Take a seat.” He said simply, referring to the many black office chairs in the cabin. “I’m actually quite pleased that you’re looking to get rid of Cyrus; he has quite a bad history with me. But that aside, what happened that made you want to kill him?”

“Not me.” Finnigan replied, with slight humour with his eyes as he looked to the only female in the room.

“He wanted me to kill Finnigan, and I failed, and now he wants my head.” Cassidy repeated her story once more, and contemplated recording it down and playing it whenever someone asked the same question again.

“Sounds like him. He probably wanted Finnigan dead after he killed his first choice amongst mercenaries.” chuckled the reddish-brown fox. He made himself comfortable his seat.

“Anyway; here’s my story. I run a legitimate, honest tobacco company - providing almost certain cancer to the world-” A snort was heard from the youngest jackal. “-while Cyrus, as you mercenaries would probably know, deals major league in illegal cannabis-”

“Strange, Vulpes - you never told me about this.” Finnigan commented.

“Well, you never asked. And I never needed to.” he answered before continuing his speech. “The cat tried to frame his crimes onto me multiple times. Luckily, I have people I can count on - like Finnigan here - working with me to make sure that I don’t get labelled by the law as a drug courier-”

“Explains the hefty amounts of weed you wanted me to stash away.” the maned mercenary commented once more.

“I’m talking, Finnigan. And don’t complain; I know you sold those to whoever.” he informed in a deadpan, causing the jackal named to snort in amusement. “Anyway, jackal. Just to let you know; you smoke cigarettes from my company.”

Finnigan’s smile disappeared, and he took out his pack of cigarettes.

A symbol of a fox’s head against a star shape. ‘Foxhead Tobacco’.

“Huh.” The Ultimate Mercenary made a noise at the fresh piece of information while his brain made the connections, causing a certain young thief to snicker once more at his reaction.

“Sorry to interrupt your discussions with your loyal customer-” Salvador spoke up, leaning forward in his seat. “-but we really need to know how to take out Cyrus the Panther.”

“That wouldn’t be too difficult. He has quite a high profile.” Vulpes stood up and walked to a corner of the cabin where a desk sat with a laptop bag on it. The fox took out the laptop decorated with black metallic paint. “And I’m constantly tracking his actions - just in case he tries anything again.”

“Stalker.” Finnigan commented again with a smirk.

“Shut up, Finnigan.” the fox chided once more as he moved his index finger around on the touchpad. He was quite used to the jackal’s antics. “He has a main base of operations located in deep within Mystic Jungle, near the casinos.”

“Is there anything else we need to know?” asked Salvador.

“Not much; I’ll send Finn the details through text later. You can probably proceed with your plans now.” Vulpes suggested. “The cat’s probably busy sitting in his base, smoking cannabis while planning to get more of the stuff to sell.”

“You seem to know him quite a lot, Vulpes.” Finnigan teased once more. The fox stared at him, unamused.

“Anyway; knowing Cyrus the Panther - the longer you wait, the more mercenaries he would hire just to get rid of your jackal squad. You better get a move on.” The vulpine stated as he chased Finnigan out of the room.

And soon, the five jackals were outside the cabin, left to stare at oil wells scattered around, and the single parked van by the side of the road.

“Right.” Salvador broke the silence. “Shall we leave for Mystic Jungle?”

“I’ll drive.” Finnigan started to walk towards the vehicle, followed closely by Clyde. The rest of the jackals followed suit, as Cassidy passed the keys over to the new driver.

“‘Jackal Squad’ is a nice name, Finn.” commented the young thief as he got into the shotgun seat on the left side of the van.

“It has a nice ring to it-” came the response as the jackal started up the van. “-but you think they’d join us?”

“Totally - It’ll be cool!”

Finnigan stared at Clyde.

“Put your seatbelt on.”

#sonic the hedgehog #jackal squad #infinite the jackal #sonic forces #sonic forces au #forced au #jackal squad arc #sth #infinite #story #sonic forces rewrite #sonic forces story

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celmation-gibson · 6 years

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Well, It's Time I started these 'Best of' Reviews for what Animated thing had Happened this Year, and Now I'm ready for it, and for me, I think that 2017 was a great Year for Cartoons on TV (and one on the Net), and here are my Reviews on why.

Ben 10(2016 series) – Although the Show was Made and Released in 2016 at other Foreign territories, It finally got a Release in the US in 2017. And some Folks might say that some reboots aren’t very too Bright (and I would agree on TTG and/or PPG 2016), But I find this to be a Nerve Calming excitement, some of the Character Designs/Re-Designing look Cute & Likable to Me. And the One Thing that gets me Fired up for this Series is that some Artists I know worked on this Program, like Mr. Ryan Krammer(Uncle Grandpa, & SpongeBob's 'Food Con Castaways' episode), Ms. Monica Ray(Harvey Beaks, Magic Children Doing Things) as Storyboard Artists & additional Writers& Mr. Colin Heck(Legend of Korra, Harvey Beaks) as Supervising Director. And It was Wonderful to hear Ms. Jessica DiCicco(Lynn & Lucy Loud) voicing a Different-looking FrightWig, who the Character was previously voiced by Cree Summer in the Original Series. But believe me, I remember seeing the Original Ben 10 series along with Alien Force, but didn’t quite go thru the Rest of the Series until the Reboot came. Even the Original villains of this Show look so Cute (except for Billy Billions), which that Cuteness also goes to the re-Designing of the other Villains from the Original ‘Ben 10’ series, and the More appearance I’ve ever seen from a Villain is Steam Smythe (voiced by Roger Craig Smith of ‘Sonic the Hedgehog’ & ‘Regular Show’).

Billy Dilley’s Super-Duper Subterranean Summer – Quite an Interesting Show, and I bet many people thought that the Program reminded them of ‘Uncle Grandpa’, so Keep in Mind, Most of the Artists & Writers who worked on this Series previously worked on ‘Spongebob Squarepants’ & ‘Uncle Grandpa’. Even the Show’s Creator Mr. Aaron Springer voicing Billy almost sounds like Paul Rugg of 'Freakazoid', 'Pig, Goat, Banana, Cricket', & 'Secret Mountain Fort Awesome'.

Samurai Jack(Season 5) - I truly Enjoyed watching 'Samurai Jack' when I was Young, this Program along with 'Courage the Cowardly Dog', 'Juniper Lee', & 'Chowder' are Probably the only Good Old Cartoon Network Programs that I give Full Circle to in my Childhood. After the "Jack and the Baby" episode, the show went into a Deep Cliffhanger, and I truly Sympathize the Great Hero Jack for it, But Twelve Years Later, a New Season had Finally cometh, with the Show's Original Creator Mr. Genndy Tartakovsky coming to Ex. Produced the series after some Great Work back at Sony Pictures Animation(Hotel Transylvania films, & that Popeye Test Footage). And Instead of the Program being a-little Lighthearted like the Past Seasons with just Slime, Oil & Robotic Guts, and Major Boo-boos, the New Season 5 now airing on Adult Swim has moved to a Darker Tone, which I like as much as 'Return to Oz', 'Over the Garden wall', & 'the Black Cauldron', with some major Blood, Profanity, and some Grown-Up jokes put into it. And it was a Surprised to see some Old Characters that I recognize to make some Cameos in that one episode(or few), such as the Woolies, Demongo, and the Ravers, the Robots and their Robo-Samurai, and the "Jump Good" Monkey man & his Tribe. And some Fresh New Voices came in by Surprise, such as Mr. Chris Parnell & Keegan Michael Key in some Episodes. And I was Lucky to film the Final Confrontation between Jack & Aku during the Premiere of the Series Finale for Instagram. And did I nearly weep during the Part that Now that Aku is Gone, Ashi will Never be Born in the Future(because of the Space Timing Continuum), and I got to say, Ashi was a Cute Character that I truly Sympathize because of her Dark Past & People Torturing her back then, and I like her Voice Actress, the Legendary Ms. Tara Strong (Powerpuff Girls, My Little Pony, Ben 10, & Chowder). And even since Aku's Original voice actor Mr. Mako passed away back then, I say that Mr. Greg Baldwin really did a Good Job impersonating Mako voicing Aku, just like he did with Iroh of 'Avatar: the Last Airbender' & 'Legend of Korra', almost sounded like If Mako aged Puberty. I would say I'm Gonna Miss this Show, just like how I'll miss Chowder, Regular Show, and soon Uncle Grandpa.

Star vs. the Forces of Evil: Battle for Mewni /SvtFoE Season 3– To come Clear, I only watched the First Four Stories of that TV Movie Special, from “Return to Mewni” to “Marco and the King”, Because during the Further Episodes there was an Artist whose Career I clearly dislike, Tyler Chen of ‘Clarence’, ‘Fish Hooks’, ‘Pickle & Peanut’ & the Overrated Bravest Warriors minisode “drama Bug”, and that’s why I never made it to the Ending point, But I do read Perfectly that Star won the Battle against the Vile Toffee, and she got her Wand Redesigned. But what I can tell you that one of my Favorite Episodes from that so Far is “Moon the Undaunted”, and I gotta say that Eclipsa, Queen of Darkness is one of my Most Favorite Characters from the show so far. As for the Rest of Season 3 so Far, I’ve only watched Episodes that are NNOT directed by Chen, cuz remember when I said I don’t like his Career, but my Most Favorite Episodes out of Season 3 so Far is ‘Stranger Danger’, ‘Lint Catcher’, & ‘Trial by Squire’. Also, Despite having appeared in the 2016 episode "Page Turner", I like Hekapoo's appearance in the 2017 episode "Running with Scissors", which is One of my Most Favorite Episodes of Season 2.

The Loudest Mission: Relative Chaos - I really Enjoyed this Half-Hour Special of ‘the Loud House’, the New Characters there seemed Likable/Lovable unlike the Unlikable/Hate-able ones in Royal Woods where some Folks aren’t that Disgusting as Hell(Funny Business, Cereal Offender), and It’s also a Good Episode where no Sister Siblings were Complete & Utter jerks(Sleuth or Consequences, a Novel Idea), Even what surprised me Completely is that this was the First Thing in a Kids’ Cartoon to showcase a person with Down-Syndrome, and believe me, I felt Really Disappointed on how they were Portrayed in Adult Cartoons, Mostly *COUGH*Family guy*COUGH*. But in a Kids Cartoon, they were Treated Properly with Good Respect. And the Character Rosa reminds me of Mrs. Claus/Mama from Rankin/Bass’ ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’ for some Wacky Reason, “Eat, eat, EAT”. And I still Love the RonnieColn Fandom Completely, that one LH Episode “Back Out There” almost Ruined some Things, and that Led me to have Mixed to Negative Feelings for Lincoln’s Friends Clyde, Rusty, Liam, Zach. So I would say that ‘the Loudest Mission: Relative Chaos’ is a Fun-Filled Episode that I could watch Multiple Times, It’s got Cute & Funny moments, some Heart-Warming Drama, and some Great Entertainment when the Alley Cats run amuck in the Casagrande apartment.

OK K.O! Let’s be Heroes – This Show has become a Great New addition to the Grand CN, It was created by Mr. @ianjq, who was previous storyboard supervisor & storyboard revisionist of ‘Adventure Time’, Writer & Story Artist for ‘Secret Mountain Fort Awesome’, voice of Wallow of ‘Bravest Warriors’, & developer, co-executive producer, supervising director, storyline writer & storyboard artist for ‘Steven Universe’, and I really like him Voicing Rad & other Characters such as Darrell & Crinkly Wrinkly in the K.O. program. It was based off a short Pilot episode ‘Lakewood Plaza Turbo’ back in 2013, in that Great Year of Discoveries along with other pilots for ‘Steven Universe’, ‘Over the Garden Wall’, & ‘Clarence’, and that was a Time when I was also Fascinated with Disney’s Nine old Men and their Work/Book ‘the Illusion of Life’, and watching that Awesome Documentary on Cartoon Network’s ‘Next Generation of Animation’, I will always accept New Cartoon Network shows like ‘Adventure Time’, ‘Regular Show’, ‘Uncle Grandpa’, ‘Over the Garden Wall’, ‘Steven Universe’, & ‘We Bare Bears’ into the Cartoon Society. But as for ‘OK K.O.’ , the seems pretty Wonderful, It has a Blend of 1970’s Obscure Anime looks into the Western Animation looks, and How they have some Classical Cartooning Principles(Funny Cartoon Noises, Jokes & Gags) into the Modern Day Greatness. Even some of the characters seemed likable, Mostly on either Lord Boxman(voiced by the Great Jim Cummings), some of the Villainess Characters that the Heroes might met(Professor Venomous, Cosma, & Mr. Cardsley), and even some of the Main Good Characters, especially the Ones I also Sympathize like K.O., Rad, Enid, Dendy, Carol, & Mr. Gar, and I gotta say that Character Crinkly Wrinkly is the Funniest character that I’ve ever seen. I think it was Good that I first get to watch the Series when It was On-Demand before it aired on actual TV, but I have yet to see it’s 2013 Pilot episode along with the Rests that Aired on 2013, But I do know that it had a Mobile Game back then (though I did not Download it or played it) and a Series of Shorts by other Animation Studios, but I haven’t watch them because I am Never a huge fan of SCIENCE SARU and I’m Not too certain about Studio Yotta. But I gotta say also, This Show is a Fanstastic Experience on the Grand CN, Filled with Precious Heart-Warming episodes with Good Life Lessons like How to handle your own Duties as an Employer or how Great your Boss can be (‘Legends of Mr. Gar’), or If you Try not to Spoil your life by being a Self-Proclaimed Selfish ‘Cool Kid’ like Brat, you should have a More Focused Future ahead of you, even without going to Jail (‘We’ve Got Pests’), and the Show had some Crazy Developments such as Enid & Rad used to being a Couple (‘Second First Date’), and Enid being a Witch and being in a Family of Halloween-Themed Characters (‘Parents Day’). Plus the shows got a Good crew, Like the Program's Supervising Director Toby Jones, who Previously worked on 'Regular Show', and one of the Show's Story folks Dave Tennant, previously does some Stories for Pete Browngardt Cartoons, Which I think makes it Better for Me.

Pickle Rick – Why not, It’s “PICKLE RIIIICK!!!!”, I thought I would pass on this, But eventually won my Heart, don’t ask why, but Things just happen like that.

The Summoning - I just Discovered this while browsing on the internet probably from Fan-Art on DA, and I watched it on Youtube, and I gotta say, this Cartoon is Really Cute, Funny, & Creepy at the same time. The Main Characters seemed Lovable, and I mean Claire & Edgar, the Bunny Character is hugely Funny in a way, Though I feel Terribly Bad for the characters accidentally eating some things like Eating some Dandruff from a Big Head Island which Claire thought it was Dirt, and Eating Poop which Edgar thought it was Chocolate. But to make Matters Better for the Cartoon, Celmation Hero Ms. Natasha Allegri(Bee & Puppycat, Fionna & Cake) worked on the short as Director, Story Artist, & Character Designer, WHAT A HERO!!! And the Animations/Celmation was done by Digital eMation inc., the Celmation Team behind ‘Ok K.O. Let’s be Heroes!’ & the Season 5 of ‘Samurai Jack’.

The Movies of 2017 & Probably some on Video Games should be made soon.

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halloweenvalentine1997 · 6 years

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Cupola Avenue

My lucidity died in the house I grew up in. I was raised in an arcane Hitchcock mansion with a cupola. There were no servants due to my guardian, Scarlett Freeland’s, illicit exploitation, and her fear of it being discovered. Therefore, she let everything collect dust. Her mansion was tall and monumental. It reminded me of a Halloween sticker decoration one puts on a windowpane. On our street, Cupola Avenue, named for the cupolas on each house, I suffered many seasons of violent turmoil at the hands of Scarlett. She owned a video camera that she balanced on top of a tripod and told me it was my “surveillance.” On several occasions, at the age of thirteen, I was raped by a multitude of strange men that Scarlett invited inside. She would put 80's hair metal on the stereo while they raped me and she sat in a red armchair, smoking numerous cigarettes. Sometimes, I wouldn’t get raped and instead it would be my deed, according to every person in the room, to kill a person in front of me. I’ve killed 37 people in Scarlett’s house, each one dissolved with acid in the cupola on film, and killed on film as well, before being doused with acid. Each time this event happened, it was recorded and burned onto a disc to be viewed on Scarlett’s TV. There were only two other houses on Cupola Avenue: the Tarringtons' house and the Miltons' house. Clyde Tarrington lived in a two-story house painted white with black shutters. He lived there with his daughter, Blithe. On their front door was a poster of a symbol that held a cryptic enchantment for me: a cross with an hourglass in the center of it. It always reminded me of their time running out. I had wanted to kill Blithe for so many years. I felt her to be prettier than me with her lustrous black hair and piercing green eyes. She always loved to remind me of how I would have been killed by my twin sister, Adele, had she lived. In the womb, she was the alpha and I was the omega. On a rainy day when lightning split the sky into slices, Adele and me were playing dress-up with red velvet gowns and silver high heels. We were twelve. I convinced her into a “baptism,” holding her head underwater. Despite my carrying the title of the omega twin, my newfound strength prevailed and she soon ceased to breathe.

When Scarlett found out, she didn’t seem to care. Neither did the rest of the neighborhood; they were always killing people. We melted her body into the floor of the cupola with acid. My name used to be Lillian Freeland, but once my twin was dead, I uncontrollably became someone named June. She came to me, like a doppelganger, looking exactly like me, but bearing no evil intentions. “I am here, and I am not leaving you,” June told me. I regret killing Adele despite her greater knowledge of schoolwork. We were both homeschooled and Scarlett never told us what she did for a living. I learned later on that she worked for the federal government.

My liberation from Scarlett’s persistent and unyielding abuse came on the day of my eighteenth birthday, April 17. After she made me read Tennyson’s “The Lady of Shallot” to two men, who raped me when I was done, and when they had left, I waited for Scarlett to go upstairs and watch one of her movies. I sauntered to the garage and snatched an axe, the same one Scarlett used in satanic rituals when she was young. I made the predatory ascent up the stairs and into her bedroom. Then, as though she were a chopping block and as though her sanguine bloodflow was sacred, I swung the axe down upon her skull. Hard. She was watching The Caretakers, a black and white movie about women in group therapy. She fell to the side, writhing in pain. I went to the front of the chair and brought the axe down upon her back until her spinal cord was severed and her tenebrous heart gave out. I left her there and ran back downstairs, screaming the whole way. Next, I opened Scarlett’s freezer and grabbed a carton of Marlboro 100's, lit one, and burned the subtle swastikas hidden in the patterns of an Oriental rug. I gazed around me, took in the contents of the living room: the Kit-Kat clock shaped like a black cat with bulging eyes, the white topaz chandelier, the gutted hearth, the period furniture. I decided it was time to leave my home behind forever. I grabbed a pink backpack and shoved the carton of cigarettes inside, along with a drawer full of working Bic lighters. I threw in three shirts, six pairs of socks, six pairs of underwear, two pairs of pants, a journal, a pen, and a gun. I topped off the luggage with some rubber vampire teeth I endeavored to save for a malevolent purpose: murdering Blithe Tarrington. I put my hand on the gun as I walked outside, holding it securely within the large pocket of my forest green trench coat. To my knowledge, the Miltons across the street were always killing people (Scarlett always said so.), but I didn’t know how they felt about Blithe. I didn’t care. I rang the doorbell, staring down the cross and hourglass on the door’s poster. Luckily, Blithe answered the door. I pulled out the gun, and her face became as stricken as one being lashed with a switch. “Get inside,” I gnashed, pushing her onto the floor and slamming the door behind me. “And don’t get up. Don’t even talk.” She talked anyway. “Lillian, please don’t kill me. You don’t have to - “ “But I want to, and I can, and I will kill you and nothing will ever be able to resurrect you!” “What’s going on with that Freeland bitch? Why is she in my house?” screamed Clyde, who had just descended the stairs. I shot him in the head, and he slumped over, instantaneously dead. “You’ve been killing people in this house for years, and it’s time to go!” I vociferated over her harrowed wailing. “Now, put these in.” I unzipped my backpack and handed her the rubber vampire teeth. She stared at me, wide-eyed with feral fear. She did nothing. She said nothing. “Your mouth, dummy. Put them in your mouth.” I handed her the teeth, and she took them from me and placed them over her own toothpaste commercial-white teeth.

“You look the very caricature of Halloween,” I said, laughing as I blew out her brains. The remains flew against the wall and painted an inkblot test of blood smears everywhere. I walked into Blithe’s bedroom after I was sure she was dead, and saw a purple canopied bed, a bookshelf filled with many classic and contemporary novels, among them: the Brontes, Oscar Wilde, Theodore Dreiser, Jane Austen, Anais Nin, D.H. Lawrence. I grabbed Nin’s House of Incest, Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray and Charlotte Bronte’s Villette, and left the house. I didn’t make it very far. I was down the road not very far when I was arrested. I always feared them coming for me. I fell onto the asphalt, scabbing my knees and not feeling it. I denied what was happening. I muttered to myself incoherently. “We know you killed some people, Lillian.” “My name is June,” was all that I said before my mind shut off and I suddenly woke up vegetative in a jail cell.

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

Eventually, I was labelled not guilty by reason of insanity. The police found Scarlett’s recordings and the recordings that the Miltons and the Tarringtons made of their own killings when I told them about the neighborhood, and what Scarlett had done to me. One day, I will get out of the forensics services ward, where the criminally insane are housed. I have spent many nights here, remembering the death and ravagings, my hair coiling like Medusa’s on the pillow of the restraint bed, the leather straps leaving black bruises on my wrists. Every night, I pray to God and Jesus and all the saints that ever were that I’ll be forgiven for my killings, and be accepted into a realm I can call heaven. My lucidity will live again, resurged.

- Vivica Salem

#cupola avenue #vivica salem #2017 #rewrote this brat story in jail #prose

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diggorypuff · 6 years

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Best Lyrics of Reputation and my commentary

Ready for It:

He can be my jailer, Burton to this Taylor - My 1950s loving ass is just here for this Burton to this Taylor shit, cause their an OTP

Every love I’ve known in comparison is a faliure - Also a reference in my mind to Burton-Taylor love.

End Game:

I wanna be your A-Team - Just here for the early Ed Sheeran reference ;)

I’ve got some big enemies - idk i like the drama what the hell

Ooo you and me would be a big conversation - Media

I got a reputation that don’t precede me - opposite of the line that taylor cut from gorgeous

I don’t wanna just be another ex love that you don’t wanna see - <3

I don’t wanna miss you like the other girls do - hmmm... i really don’t feel joe vibes listening to this?

I just wanna be drinking on the beach with you all over me - This makes me think of the pics of Tom & Taylor on the beach

I got issues and chips on both of my shoulders - Ed’s singing always gets me and I like the chip on the shoulder trope

The truth is it’s easier to ignore it believe me - Love it

Even when we argue we don’t do it for long - Sounds like me with my friends <3

You understand the good and bad end up in the song - now that sounds like Joe

(Side note if it is all about Joe like she ‘claims’, seems odd but whatever, betcha that Calvin & Tom are so fucking thankful that Joe’s got her so loved up that she can’t even give a shit about their asses and how she thinks they may have wronged her)

All my flaws, paranoias, and insecurities - reference to the image built of Taylor

After the storm something was born - <3

Four words on the tip of my tongue - ???? Four words?

You and me we got big reputations - ... can’t be joe cause when they started dating everyone was legit like Joe who????

And I bury hatchets, but I keep maps of where I put them - i’d rather it be like about putting them in peoples backs, but i like this too, like she keeps maps of where she puts them after their buried, cause she’ll happily dig them up again if your wrong her, ie Kanye drama

My reputation precedes me - there it is again

I swear I don’t love the drama, it loves me - Love this line <3

Your handprints in my soul - <3

I Did Something Bad

I never trust a narcissist but they love me, so I play them like a violin, and I make it look oh so easy - I love it idk

Cause for every lie I tell them they tell me three - wtf love it

This is how the world works, now all he thinks about is me - LOVE

If a man talks shit then I owe him nothing - reference to kanye’s i made that bitch famous lyrics? and i love it

I don’t regret it one bit cause he had it coming - this song has drilled into the vindictive, slice your throat open side of me??? pls stop

They say I did something bad - <3

And i love the techno sound of it like tear it up

I never trust a playboy but they love me - ;)

So I fly them all around the world and let them think they saved me - ? Taylor who this about?

They never see it coming - ;) devilish

You gotta leave before you get left - heart ripping feel the power

He says don’t throw away a good thing - idk im torn whether I like this line or not???

If he drops my name then I owe him nothing - Kanye, Calvin, a ton of ppl?

And if he spends me change then he had it coming - I love the had it coming line makes me think of Cellblock Tango

They’re burning all the witches even if you aren’t one - Strong line

They got their pitchfork and proof, their receipts and reasons - Receipts -_-

Light me up - I love whenever that term is used

The little bubblier tune change towards the end is magic too

Don’t Blame Me -

How this is not a Jack Antoff produced tune is beyond me it sounds so much like Waiting Game, whatever the tune is magic

Don’t blame me love made me crazy, and if it doesn’t you ain’t doing it right - I love the passion filled love story goes back to my love of Burton-Taylor, also reminds me of that thread of That’s the Way I Loved You

I’ve been breaking hearts a long time - Love it

They say she’s gone too far this time - this is powerful

And I’m just gonna call you mine, I’m insane but I’m your baby - Playing on the medias stereotype, getting a bit old

Echoes, love you name inside my mind, halo, hiding my obsession - It’s a good lyric especially the name inside my mind

And baby, for you, I would fall from grace, just to touch your face - I wrote a similar line in a song earlier today before I heard this similar feeling runs deep

If you walk away, I'd beg you on my knees to stay - playing on the damsel in distress vibe again, also getting a bit old

Delicate

This ain’t for the best, my reputations never been worse - I love the my reputations never been worse line <3

Oh damn, never seen that color blue - Love it

Is it cool that I said all that, Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicate - Fresh love, and I like it cause I get

Is it too soon to do this yet? 'Cause I know that it's delicate - I feel like this is about writing a song about someone, like is it too soon to write a song about this yet, not in a bad way!!!

Do the girls back home touch you like I do? - Sexy line, hot

Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs - Line reminds me of ‘ Sounded like footsteps on my stairs’ from If This Was a Movie. Also reminds me of All Too Well and the ‘down the stairs you were there I remember it all too well’ cause you know I’ll look for any reason to mention the power song

Stay here, honey, I don't wanna share - ??? what’s this about

Sometimes I wonder when you sleep, are you ever dreaming of me? - <3

Sometimes when I look into your eyes, I pretend you're mine, all the damn time - LOVE IT

Look What You Made Me Do

I’ve fallen out of love with the beat but it is still lit

But I got smarter I got harder in the nick of time - It’s strong and give me power

Honey I rose up from the dead I do it all time - See above

I got a list of names and yours is in red underlined, I check it once, then I check it twice - See above, also it’s vicious and I live for it

Maybe I got mine, but you'll all get yours - Kitty got claws

I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me - Makes me grin with evil intentions

I’m sorry, the old Taylor can't come to the phone right now" "Why?" "Oh, 'cause she's dead!" - Maniacal laughter like Yzma as the cat in Emperorers New Groove

Below the lines that I’m not here for anymore

You ask me for a place to sleep,locked me out and threw a feast - idk? just eye roll?

The world moves on, another day, another drama, drama, but not for me, not for me, all I think about is karma - again just done with it

So it Goes...

I'm yours to keep and I'm yours to lose - Cool

You know I'm not a bad girl, but I do bad things with you - ;)

Met you in a bar, All eyes on me, your illusion is, All eyes on us - Makes me think of This is What You Came For, so I’m thinking this is a Calvin dig, for him being a intimidated by her success

I make all your grey days clear and wear you like a necklace - This whole song I’m like idek if this is good or not, this is my least fav song on the album

I'm so chill, but you make me jealous - Girl we’re cool, but when have you ever been chill, and you’ve always been jelly?

Come here, dressed in black now - Oooh reputation era, bad ass taylor coming in, having her emo dressing in all black phase coming in XD

Scratches down your back now - Rawr sexy

Gorgeous

You should take it as a compliment that I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk - Making fun of Joe’s British accent ;)

And I got a boyfriend he’s older than us he’s in the club doing I don’t know what - Tom? Calvin??? Who knows.

Whiskey on ice, sunset and vine, you’ve ruined my life by not being mine - I get it

You’re so gorgeous, I can’t say anything to your face, cause look at your face - Again I feel it

You should take it as a compliment that I’m talking to everyone here but you - Agreed

If you got a girlfriend, I’m jealous of her, but if you’re single it’s actually worse - Honestly yes, cause if you got a girlfriend, Ima be good cause I’m a Jackie not a Marilyn, but if you don’t omg I’m sorry I can’t stop it

You’re so gorgeous it actually hurts - Yep

Ocean blue eyes looking in mine, I feel like I might sink and drown and die - I’m sinking drowning and dying all at once

Like Joe isn’t really attractive to me but I’m glad she’s happy and wrote this bop cause I feel it in my soul

Getaway Car

The robo voice can go thank you

It was the best of times the worst of crimes - Love it already

I struck a match and blew your mind, but I didn’t mean it, and you didn’t see it - <3

The tires were black, the lies were white, and shades of gray in candle light - WHY DO I ENJOY THIS?

I wanted to leave him, but I needed a reason - IS JOE THE REASON? Okay love, but also come on if you wanna leave him, leave him for you!

X marks the spot where we fell apart, he poisoned the well, I was lying to myself - I love it so much and the beat??!?

I knew from the first old fashioned we were cursed, we never had a shot, shot, shot in the dark - Honestly can’t tell if this is her being like been on Joe for the longest time wanted to kick all the boys to curb moment I saw him shit, or whether it’s just her telling one of her made up love stories tied to the truth??? Like this is just about Bonnie and Clyde sorta and she’s just tying it to this.

You were driving the get away car, we were flying but we never get far - BOP BOP BOP

Don't pretend it's such a mystery think about the place where you first met me-And where exactly is that Taylor we’d all like to know, WHERE, WHEN, AND HOW DID YOU REALLY MEET JOE EXPLAIN

We're ridin' in a getaway car there were sirens in the beat of your heart - <3

Shoulda know I'd be the first to leave - Love

While he was runnin' after us, I was screamin', "go, go, go!" - LOVE LOVE LOVE

But with three of us, honey, it's a side show and a circus ain't a love story and now we're both sorry - Getting all kinds of era refs here

It hit you like a shotgun shot in the heart - Dead

I'm in a getaway car,I left you in a motel bar, put the money in the bag and I stole the keys that was the last time you ever saw me - This whole line is killer and I love it

King of My Heart

I'm perfectly fine, I live on my own,I made up my mind, I'm better off bein' alone - Love it

We met a few weeks ago - Idk but I like this single line

So prove to me I'm your American Queen and you move to me like I'm a Motown beat - I get American Boy vibes from this

Cause all the boys and their expensive cars, with their Range Rovers and their Jaguars, never took me quite where you do - All I can think about is Harry’s Range Rover, and Tom in the Jaguar commercials, and lol jaggywires

Late in the night, the city's asleep your love is a secret I’m hoping, dreaming, dying to keep - sound of my heart beat

Change my priorities - sweet

Overall song is just eh - second least av

Dancing with Our Hands Tied

That beginning piano is magic

I, I loved you in secret first sight, yeah, we love without reason - <3

Oh, 25 years old, Oh, how were you to know and my, my love had been frozen - </3

Deep blue, but you painted me golden - powerful

You said there was nothing in the world that could stop it, I had a bad feeling - Strong, and heartbreaking

People started talking, putting us through our paces,I knew there was no one in the world who could take it - SEE ABOVE

I hate the chourus

I, I loved you in spite of, deep fears that the world would divide us - Beautiful

I'm a mess, but I'm the mess that you wanted - Darling

Swaying as the room burned down, I'd hold you as the water rushes in - All about the idc, and lets keep going even as havoc wreaks

Third least fav maybe?

Dress

Golden Tattoo - ????

All of this silence and patience, panic, and anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you - Darling and sexy at the same time also come on Taylor just jump his bones!

I don't want you like a best friend - Did anyone not know this?

Only bought this dress on you could take it off, take it off, carve your name into my bedpost - Sexy, also still hear carve you name into my nipples XD

And if I get burned, at least we were electrified - Cool, but if you get burned you’re gonna be pissed

Nights back when you met me your buzzcut, and my hair bleed - Hair bleeds??

Even in my worst times, you could see the best of me - <3

Flash back to my mistakes,my rebounds, my earthquakes - Pain

Even in my worst nights, you saw the truth of me - <3

Don’t like the high pitch of the song, everyone built it up so it fell flat

Fourth least fav maybe???

This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things

Feeling so Gatsby for that whole year - BOP

So why'd you have to rain on my parade? - BOP

This is why we can’t have nice things, cause you break them, I have to take them away - !!!!!

It was so nice being friends again, there I was, giving you a second chance, but then you stabbed my back - KANYE KANYE KANYE

And therein lies the issue, friends don't try to trick you, get you on the phone and mind-twist you, and so I took an axe to a mended fence - HOT HOT HOT, I really want an axe to swing

But I'm not the only friend you've lost lately, if only you weren't so shady - grinning cuz Jay-Z

Here's a toast to my real friends,they don't care about that he-said-she-said - POWERFUL, makes me think of Taylor’s You Belong With Me Shirt in LWYMMD

And here's to my baby he ain't reading what they call me lately - Getting a lil tired of this her BABY, all songs are about Joe, JOE, JOE, JOE okay we get it, glad you happy, calm down

And here's to my momma had to listen to all this drama - My favorite part idk why

And here's to you cause forgiveness is a nice thing to do haha, I can't even say it with a straight face - ;) I it’s funny, idek how to feel cuz im like oh god but also HYSTARICAL??

Not for the siren sounds, but also it’s lit and a secret fav?

Call it What You Want

THIS SONG IS MY BABY!!

My castle crumbled overnight, I brought a knife to a gunfight - <3

They took the crown but it’s alright - </3

All the liars are calling me one, nobodies heard from me for months - 0.0

I’m doing better than I ever was - Happy for her

My babies fit like a daydream, walking with his head down, I’m the one he’s walking to - <3 :) love it, and she used the British term fit XD

My babies fly like a jetstream, high above the whole scene, loves me like I’m brand new - Beautiful

All my flowers grew back as thorns, windows boarded up after the storm - The afterward to Clean

He built a fire just to keep me warm - Bonfire imagery gets me

They fade to nothing when I look at him - <3

And I know I make the same mistakes everytime, bridges burn, I never learn - POWERFUL ADMITTING IT

At least I did one thing right - <3

I’m laughing with my lover making forts under covers - <3 :)

Trust him like a brother - TRUST TRUST TRUST GETS ME

I want to wear his initial on chain round my neck, not because he owns me, but cause he really knows me - UGH I LOVE LOVE LOVE IT

Which is more than they can say - <3

I recall late November, holding my breath slowly I said, you don’t need to save me, but would you runaway with me, yes - <3 LOVE LIKE THIS IS KILLING ME

New Years Day

Her voice is so sweet and dewey here and I love it, but everyone hyped it up and so it fell a lil flat on me imagery is great tho

Don’t read the last page, but I stay when you’re lost and I’m scared and you’re turning away - <3 <3 <3

I want your midnights - <3

You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi - Eh it’s okay, sweet???

I can tell it’s gonna be a long road - LONG GOOD ROAD

If you strike out and you’re crawling home - Strong supportive

When it’s hard or it’s wrong or we’re making mistakes - AGAIN SUPPORTIVE LOVE

Hold on to the memories, they will hold onto you - Strong strong strong anything with the word memories gets me everytime

Please don’t ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere - CRYING HERE

You and me forevermore - I hope <3

#reputation #taylor swift #reputation spoilers

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