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flyboytracy · 4 years ago

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#Earth&Sky2021 - Day 5

It’s day five of #Earth&Sky2021 already, what the heck!

idek what theme I was trying to go for, lighthouse in a storm maybe? But anyway, here’s a flyboy brooding beneath the stars with a glass of whiskey and the weight of the world on his shoulders.

It’s pretty dark on Tracy Island when the lights are out. The whole world’s asleep and Scott should be too but sleep doesn’t come easily to him these days. As a kid he never needed it and even now when he needs it he can never find it for more than a few hours at a time...

It’s too warm by the villa so he chases a breeze to the edge of the island, whiskey glass in his hand and bare toes digging into the sand that gets trapped between the rocks by the storms that batter their little island. There’s one rock in particular he likes to perch on when his thoughts are too loud and his doubts refuse to go away. The runway can be seen from here, as can the little overhang of rocks above Thunderbird Four’s underwater launch chute and the roundhouse that protects the native fauna of the island from Thunderbird Three’s blowback. Scott’s own Thunderbird launches a little way behind him and that was one of the first things dad mentioned when he brought Scott out here to show his firstborn the island he planned to uproot their entire family to.

This very rock represents the beginning of Scott’s involvement with International Rescue. Will there be a plaque here in forty years’ time like the plaque of dad’s footprint on Mars? It feels somehow arrogant to assume he’ll have even half the impact that Jeff Tracy’s had upon the world.

Scott hadn’t been able to imagine it back then, barely a man himself and sat in the shadow of the greatest man he’s ever known. Dad had produced two of the tiny bottles of whiskey from the jet and Scott hadn’t been able to understand why because coming to this desolate little rock in the middle of nowhere had felt very much like running away, and that wasn’t something a Tracy ever did. Ever since he’d been old enough to stand up by himself, Scott had been standing firm against the world that constantly measured him against his father.

He’d taken a stand against anyone who’d ever dared to hurt his little brothers. He’d stood there for hours at swim meets or out on the back garden with Johnny waiting for the skies to clear. He’d stayed with his little brother when Virgil needed to record the light just right and he’d spent hours and hours at the park with Alan so his brothers could do their homework in peace and their youngest brother didn’t feel their parents’ absence as heavily as the rest of them. Dad had disappeared for days at a time and he’d told the guys it was work but he’d been old enough to guess it was alcohol and other things he didn’t wanna know about.

So he’d hesitated, sat upon this rock with a tiny bottle of whiskey in his hand, because he really hadn’t felt like celebrating when mom’s grave was back in Kansas and his heart felt like he’d buried it in the dusty dirt there with her. He hadn’t said anything but dad must’ve known because he’d reached out to tug Scott into his side like he was six and not sixteen.

Dad had always been a giant to Scott. When he was little it felt like he always had to lean back to see him and even when he grew taller, dad just seemed to get taller too. Having one of those arms around him had felt like being wrapped up by the universe and for a few fleeting moments he’d been able to forget about avalanches and detention slips and dinner for four little brothers who needed vegetables and attention. Dad’s hand cradled the back of his head just like how Scott cuddled Alan when he refused to go to sleep and part of the firstborn had broken.

Dad had fixed him, though. He’d told his boy about how the desolate rock was actually an extinct volcano with old lava tubes extending out underneath the ocean for miles around them. For the last year or so that weird nerdy friend of his had been making regular flights out here and beneath their feet lay something very special indeed.

It was going to be called International Rescue and it was going to make the world a better place.

It did and it still does, every single day. With every mission to Mars or London or some random canyon in a country Scott can’t pronounce, the world becomes a better place for somebody out there. A wife gets to go home to her wife or a son gets to show his dad a picture he drew at school because International Rescue saved a life. Not the world, not a country, just a life.

How can Scott even begin to live up to the legacy of a man who could look at a barren rock and imagine making it a home for his five sons and a rescue organisation? Their home had been weaved seamlessly into the rocks without disturbing the island’s ecosystem which had made one of Scott’s baby brothers happy and another had followed the progress of the villa and the hangars below with all the enthusiasm of a budding engineer.

Nothing Scott does could ever hope to live up to the legacy of the man responsible for all this. For a while he thought maybe his mark on history would be to keep International Rescue operational instead of letting it nosedive into the dirt without dad. Most sons would’ve wiped International Rescue from existence after losing their father to it but Scott had kept them flying and for eight years that had been enough.

But now dad’s home and back in charge from the safety of his desk and suddenly Scott’s achievements don’t feel all that remarkable any more when he compares them to his father’s. He’s the firstborn son of Jeff Tracy and he’s capable of anything. He should do more; he needs to be more than this.

But what?

Scott sits on the rock with his whiskey and stares out across the ocean.

It’s beautiful out here when the lights are down and the moon’s out. He can see the reflection of thousands of stars on the surface of the ocean and the moon shimmers at the centre of it all. A soft little breeze sends ripples dancing across the water and Scott can’t help but smile at how peaceful the world feels even though it’s dark.

There’s footsteps behind him and Scott would recognise them anywhere, even without a gentle, “Hey,” and the hand that squeezes his shoulder before Virgil comes to sit on the rock beside him. He’s barefoot too and the plaid’s been replaced by one of those hoodies that looks like a hug. Strands of dark hair have escaped from beneath the hood and Scott’s compelled to brush a couple back into place before tucking Virg into his side like dad once did with him all those years ago. Virgil folds up without complaint and his face disappears into the crook of his big brother’s neck before he heaves a sigh so loud it makes Scott shiver.

A hand comes to rest instinctively on the back of Virgil’s head, fingertips sinking into the soft material as they sit together beneath the stars. For a while he can forget about everything that’s happened since he sat on this rock with dad and focus on nothing but the here and now; the tang of engine oil that seems to follow Virg around like the beach does Gordon. Warmth radiates from the shoulders that’ve helped Scott carry his burdens since dad disappeared and it helps to ground him when he feels lost in the darkness. Even when he hasn’t known which path to take, he’s always been sure that he’ll never walk it alone.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks after a while because it’s not unusual to find one of his little brothers up and about in the middle of the night, but this one had a long day yesterday and they tend to sleep like hibernating bears after the worst rescues.

“Mmm.” little brother rumbles back to him from the depths of his comfy hoodie. The noise makes Scott chuckle, “I keep thinking about Thunderbird Two. She didn’t feel right when I got back from Portugal.”

“You said Brains checked her out?”

“Hmm. He said it was most likely a combination of factors including stress, high winds and exhaustion that altered my sensory inputs and slowed my reaction times.”

Scott remembers his glass of whiskey and takes a sip, “He thinks you imagined it.”

“Nmm.” another tired noise escapes from the depths of the hoodie and Scott’s kinda tempted to see how many he could get Virg to make like a rumbly game of Operation. On the other hand he’s spent his entire life taking care of the guy using him as a pillow and the noises worry him. His best friend needs sleep but Scott knows full well that won’t happen ‘til somebody takes a look at Thunderbird Two.

“I’ll run a systems check to see if anything comes up. We’ll have her sorted before sunrise.” Scott scrunches his little brother up in a hug before relinquishing his grip on the hoodie, “You get the coffee on and I’ll get her opened up.”

“F. A-” the affirmative gets swallowed up by a yawn that nearly swallows Scott too and he laughs as he gets to his feet, keeping Virg with him to stop him nosediving into the ocean because he’s lost more than one tired brother to the pool and the steps down to the sofas.

“I know how to sort it anyway.” he teases as they head for the kitchen, polishing off the remains of his whiskey and leaving the glass on the side to deal with later, “I’ll just give her a real good thump like dad does.”

“You are not using the Jeff Tracy Fix on my ‘Bird, Scott!” Virgil finally manages a full sentence and Scott’s laughter echoes down the hallways.

#Earth&Sky2021 #Thunderbirds Are Go #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #you know the kinda hoodie I'm talking about right #the most virgilist of hoodies #the softest looking thing #with huge drawstrings and a big hood #sleeves just a lil bit too long #a hug in a hoodie

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anothertimdrakestan · 4 years ago

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Stealing Clothes From The Batboys/YJ Boys HC!

i wrote this on my phone due to immediate inspiration from a lovely anon!

"can i get a headcanon with the batboys and more if you can of how they react when their girlfriend steals theirs clothes? i love you're writing so so so much!"

Dick Grayson:

- you always steal his sweatpants even if they're like 4 sizes too big

- they're always a little worn and soft and smell like him

- you'll have to pull them up every 60 seconds but that's why you love them

- slipping them on when you wake up and starting to make breakfast, dick will come out of your bedroom and his heart will melt on sight

- he'll come up behind you and pull the waistband back effectively pulling you into his chest

- he'll toy with the drawstrings and waistband, feathery fingers dancing around your waist while you move around the kitchen

- he's the boyfriend that lovessss when you steal his clothes, eventually you'll run him out of sweatpants and he'll just go buy more, no questions asked. it warms his heart seeing you engulfed in his clothes

Wally West:

- Wally is a jacket king, he's constantly in different colors and sizes and types of jackets but he is very attached to them and often won't let you steal them

- but there's a secret to the jacket lifestyle, the t-shirt he wears under said jackets

- the t-shirts are slightly worn and unbelievably soft and they smell so strongly of your lovely boyfriend theyre your all time favorite steal

- often they might have a little hole or stain so you'll wear them around casually or sleep in them

- he makes fun of you when you both go to bed because you walk straight to his closet to pick out a shirt

- it makes his heart melt seeing you wear his t-shirts while he's away on missions, and having his warm and comforting smell on you 24/7 makes you miss him a little bit less

- he will steal the t-shirts back and wear them around to make sure his cologne is still there, for certain favorite t-shirts there will be all out wars for who gets to wear them, usually they end in tickle fights and him giving in calling you a thief even though he loves it

Jason Todd:

- jason's hoodies hit different i swear

- they're ginormous, soft, and beautiful

- the sleeves are way to long and when he sees you standing in one of his hoodies waiting for him after patrol he can't help but laugh

- "babe i know you love my hoodies but i'm scared it's going to eat you"

- he likes to pull the huge hood over your head laughing while you flail the hoodie sleeves

- when you're cuddling he likes to toy with the drawstrings and make little bows like the giant softie he is

- he will spend a whole day looking for the hoodie to complete his outfit then see you in it, he can never be mad when he sees the giddy look you get from how huge his clothes are on you, he's convinced you're the cutest thing in the entire world and no one can prove him wrong

Gar Logan:

- you're dork boyfriend unashamedly has hundreds of graphic t-shirts with terrible science puns or sarcastic logos and he'll beg you to wear them

- like any normal girlfriend you try to steal his hoodies or even will try on his beast boy suit as a joke but this boy will beg you to twin in punny t-shirts with him

- you're trending on social media like 24/7 from candid pictures of you and gar wearing t-shirts that say "i'm stupid in love with ->" or "i love her more than joker loves the batman" and other terrible graphics

- you like to style his band concert t-shirts into edgier outfits and it'll always blow him away

- "damn babe i need to go to more concerts if you're gonna look like that!"

- gar's love languages are affection and giving so you always let him shower you in his clothes and cuddles

- it always puts a dorky love-struck smile on his face when you steal his t-shirts and make epic outfits out of them and you'd do anything for your lover boy, who doesn't want to rep their boy???

Tim Drake:

- Tim has an eccentric style, and the two of you will often share clothes like jackets, maybe even pants, or hats (zendaya and tom holland vibes)

- he's always asking you for style advice and color combos that will look good, he's the first to tell anyone how amazing you always look and how talented your eye is for clothes - he tells everyone how you constantly take his breath away

- while you're day time style is amazing, it's in your own home that you give Tim a real show

- the best way to take his breath away is to slip on one of his button down dress shirts after a night of passion

- seeing you dressed in only his shirt, many of the buttons undone will physically knock the air out of his lungs

- feigning innocence you'll toy with the buttons and casually flirt until he's ripping the shirt off telling you he'll buy a new one

- occasionally you'll style outfits with his dress shirts, tucking them in pairing it with your favorite blazers, it feels like you've got a little piece of Tim rooting for you all day, the perfect pick me up during a rough day

Bart Allen:

- Bart is convinced you are the cutest thing to walk the planet and will actually vibrate through the floor with excitement when you steal his clothes

- your (and his) personal favorite is one of his many baseball tees

- this kid has at least 20 different colored shirts and you're pretty sure he wasn't even a baseball player, while he looks undeniably handsome you like to steal the shirts because of how soft they are

- he loves how the shoulders are too big and a little droopy, the sleeves are a little too long making you roll them up to your fore arm to get anything done, and he can feel his heart flutter noticing how you're always bunching up the material or trying to tuck it into your waistband

- seeing you in his shirts makes him all warm and fuzzy, he physically cannot keep his hands off of you if he tried

- when you cuddle he'll cling to the soft fabric with one hand, the other securing you to his chest, whispering something about how perfect you are before he devulges into light snores, keeping you secure and warm, his cologne intoxicatingly warm and comforting, automatically lulling you to sleep with him in minutes

Damian Wayne:

- Dami doesn't love you stealing his clothes, he likes it when you slip on his t-shirt or sweater after a long day and he'll usually expect it back

- but the best thing to steal from your cute boyfriend are his adorable turtleneck sweaters

- these knitted black sweaters are the softest material known to man but stealing them is so difficult because Damian doesn't like parting with them

- the face he gives you when you meet up in public while wearing one of his turtlenecks is too cute, a mixture of pride that you're engulfed in his property and also some mild amusement that you successfully snatched one of his turtlenecks out from under his nose

- "mhm beloved i like your shirt, tell me where did you get it?" his snark is always unmatched

- one of his favorite things to do when you're wearing his turtlenecks is pull the material up and over your mouth, effectively quieting you with your own shirt

- the playful glint in his eyes while he toys with the collar makes you smile like a child, loving how his inner goofy side comes out when he's with you

Jaime Reyes:

- there is no better clothing item to steal from Jaime than the iconic gray drawstring zip up hoodie

- this boy really goes through at least three a month if not more so he doesn't mind you snatching a few for your own closet

- he likes to grab on either side of the unzipped jacket and tug you into his embrace, his lips meeting yours while he toys with the fabric

- you take his jackets everywhere, he loves that you're rarely caught without one - he thinks it's adorable that you don't like to be without him

- his scarab genuinely thinks you're safer wearing his jacket and will throw a bit of a fit if "mate is unsafe! protections protocols active!" so you've taken to tying them around your waist, slinging them over your shoulder, and have even tried to crop or bedazzle a few to make a bomb outfit if thats you're style!

- the jackets are always worn and well loved, sometimes they'll have tears or burn marks from his scarab getting upset but you never mind the imperfections, they're what makes each jacket special

hope you enjoyed let me know who your fav was!

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sm0lltownotaku · 3 years ago

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Fashion in Tokyo Revengers pt.3

-Fashion Fridays-

The final episodes of Season 1 take place during Fall and Wintertime, so we’re feasting our eyes with more sweaters, jackets and long shirts. I’m a big believer that cold weather brings out the best in our fashion sense.

We see Chifuyu with an awesome light tan sweater under his school jacket. Look at the hoodie and the cuffs! Those thick sleeves and huge hoodie makes this one of my favorite pieces, it just looks super cozy.

This shot allows us to appreciate Chifuyu’s sweater a bit more. It reaches just above his hips, and the heam is also thick. He doesn��t wear his school pants baggy, like Takemitchy, his are fitted to the waist and tapered to the ankles.

Takemitchy is in his school uniform, which fits a bit baggy to my liking. His jacket unbuttoned over a white shirt.

Draken is wearing a classic trucker denim jacket in white over a black shirt and light grey pants. He’s consistent with his color combinations.

Mikey is also a fan of grey and black combinations, this time wearing a quarter sleeve hoodie over a long sleeved black shirt. His grey shorts cover black leggings underneath.

Episode 17 - No way and Episode 18 - Open fire

In this scene we have a better look at Draken’s outfit, standing inside a tunnel with Kazutora. We see his grey pants tucked into black combat boots. I’m going to be honest, I’m getting serious Dragon Ball Z vibes with the way he tucks his boots. Not a big fan.

Kazutora on the other hand, wearing the amazing Valhalla jacket, is sporting black joggers that are aggressively tapered around his ankles and some white low sneakers that resemble the super famous Stan Smith design. That combination actually looks pretty cool and is a classic streetwear fit.

A full body shot of Draken in all his Dragon Ball Z glory.

Check out the jacket on Mitsuya! The hood is awesome with that raised collar and drawstrings. That forest green really matches with the bright white accents in the zipper and drawstrings. The detail of the pocket on the right arm is also pretty cool. He looks warm and comfy, maybe a little bit thoughtful.

The day of the fight we see lots of new boys with different styles, it’s super interesting! I really liked this guy’s yellow shirt with the half sleeves and low shoulder seams, he pairs it well witht the black long sleeved undershirt.

The accessories! This guy with the golden horn rimmed glasses and golden earring has great taste in color combination. His silver pendant pairs well with the black shirt and tan jacket.

Then we have the Haitani brothers in comfy active wear: Rindo with the all black outfit, zip-up jacket up to his chin and those golden round eyeglasses! Ran wearing a nice oversized light grey sweatshirt and slim-fit black jeans. It’s all about the silhouette with Ran.

Episode 23 - End of war

This penultimate episode is very emotional, and we see Chifuyu in all black simple outfit, while Mikey wears a long plaid shirt in dark grey with black and white accents, black slim-fit jeans and white sneakers. I think this is oufit is the dressed up version of Mikey, he’s not wearing lounge wear or oversized clothing, and that gives a very special meaning to the scene. He took the time to look his best.

Meanwhile we have Draken and Takemitchy spending some time together, and Draken takes Takemitchy to his room where he has a rack with his haori shirts! You know he takes great care of them.

Draken is wearing a long sleeve haori shirt in black with white accents, which seems to be the long sleeved version of one of his short sleeved shirts. It’s awesome, and we also find this particular haori shirt has a white interior lining. He wears a black hoodie underneath and honestly it looks pretty badass.

Takemitchy seems to have taken a page out of his friends’ lookbook because he’s made an effort. Looking preppy in a red and white letterman jacket, he wears a white t-shirt and light chinos.

Classic Yamagishi with the streetwear. He’s wearing a white hoodie under a short denim trucker jacket, black joggers tapered to the ankle and some white low sneakers. Very similar silhoutte to Kazutora’s earlier outfit.

Unpopular opinion here, but I actually thought Peh’s shirt was cool, he’s got this mafioso thing going on since the early episodes. You have to hand it to him, he’s consistent. I would have a chosen a longer jacket, though, that short cut is not doing him any favours and it also looks a bit tight around the shoulders and arms.

We finish Season 1 with Mitsuya in his sewing club outfit. I love this guy’s style! He’s so versatile, he changes up silhouttes, color combinations and fit, every single episode. We see him in all his knitwear glory with a super cozy light tan sweater, oversized and unbuttoned. The sleeves are a bit long, trailing past his wrists, but I’m sure it’s part of the look. A white shirt underneath, leaving the last two buttons undone, and baggy black pants. He is the embodiment of comfy right now.

I’m very excited to see new outfits and colors next season!

So what did you think about these outfits?

Let me know!

#tokyo revengers #winter fashion #fashion #fashion inspo #anime

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digitalbay · 4 years ago

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Which is a top Custom t shirt from Teespring?

sothatway answers

Written by sothatway

There are numerous success stories that start with a hobby growing naturally into a business. Many aspire to follow a similar path, just like this cowgirl from Texas. Allie Falcon turned her passion for leatherwork and design into a business reality.

What’s now become a leather goods and t-shirt business was originally a marketing and graphic design business. Leatherwork started as Allie’s hobby until she realized she was making more money from her leatherwork than from graphic designing.

“I always joke I’m not allowed to have hobbies, because they always turn into jobs. :)”

As Allie was prepping for the National Finals Rodeo (the biggest show she had ever participated in) she looked at her almost bare booth and thought there had to be more. Driving home one night, Allie’s husband suggested making t-shirts. Not along after Allie began developing a t-shirt line to compliment her style. Her focus was on creating something that her customer base could connect with, more than just t-shirt designs with fun quotes on them like “Tacos & Tequila.”

“I just didn’t see anything in the western market that was art on its own. There were quotes on everything. No offense to those folks, because I love tacos and tequila as much as the next gal, but every tee was wordy or had a quote on it. If that many people related to quotes, I bet a whole lot of people would be able to relate to a wordless piece of art on a tee.”

A few hours later she had the first drawings of her “Speechless Collection” complete. Allie wanted her collection to represent every western woman. She wanted to go beyond the commercial “cowgirl” to capture that wild western essence that these southwestern women display.

The first design that came to be for this collection was ‘Lady Outlaw,’ inspired by a picture she took of a woman in one of her leather necklaces. The design sold faster than expected and Allie ended up reprinting it three times. Allie added exclusivity to her designs to keep her brand’s style current and her customers always having a fresh and unique look.

“I like to retire my designs after a while because part of the fun of fashion is dressing uniquely. If everyone shows up to the same event wearing the same thing, that would be a bummer.”

Allie’s t-shirt business stemmed from her passion for leatherwork. Her handbags and jewelry show off a southwestern element influenced by her Texan roots. Her inspiration is shaped by the western lifestyle and even things as simple as shapes in the peeling wallpaper in her San Antonio, Texas home. Allie’s designs are her essence in its purest form.

To this day Allie is at home with her ranch lifestyle. “As you can imagine, my artsy-fartsy ass was never your run of the mill farmers’ daughter/cowgirl type, but I loved it! Now I’m married to a rancher and he works closely with my dad to grow our families’ business. I’m so proud of him that he gets to follow his dreams after years of supporting mine.”

Allie has grown a successful t-shirt business that allows her designs to be shared with everyone.

“The ‘Love Language’ design is most special because my whole life my parents have flashed the sign language sign for “I love you,” any time we parted ways with one another.”

Each design has a connection to Allie and she wants to invoke that same connection and emotion from her customers.

When it comes to choosing blank garments, Allie is a Bella + Canvas fan. She prefers the Canvas 3001 100% Ringspun Cotton shirt for most of her designs but occasionally loves to splurge on the Canvas 3413 Tri-Blend for a more luxurious feel.

Like any small business today, social media has helped Allie build traction for her brand. Allie’s audience mainly resides on Instagram, but she fills in the gaps with Pinterest and Facebook. However, Allie doesn’t just limit her brand to social media alone. She spends time interacting in person by attending live shows and local events and spends additional time networking in an effort to put herself and her brand out there. Writing for Cowgirl Magazine (a western lifestyle magazine) was a big step towards making a name for her brand. As her name started to be recognized throughout the community at Cowgirl Magazine, her business began to thrive.

Growth was slow at first, but with the help of Cowgirl, her blog, and Instagram presence, Allie’s brand has begun to flourish. “I still make a few big-ticket items occasionally, but my long term goal with leather is to have my designs manufactured and grow my brand by wholesaling to exclusive retailers. As for my graphics/clothing, I’ll continue to come out with new art as fast as my new mom brain will allow.” Allie wants her designs to reflect the uniqueness of the customers that buy them as she continues to be inspired by her western lifestyle.

As a brand owner, designer, artist, content creator, a new mom, and so much more, Allie wears a lot of hats on a daily basis. She offers this advice to others looking to start their brand:

“Be yourself. Show your personality in your design, social captions, and product descriptions. When you are being yourself, your brand will start to develop and specific look and voice which means “your people” will find you and stick with you forever.”

And…

“Be your biggest advocate. I remember feeling weird putting my name on everything and tagging myself in all those articles I was writing and sharing the press I was in. It can feel a little like, “Hey, look what I did! See how cool I am?” But honey, ain’t no one going to do that stuff for you in the beginning! LOL!”

If you like what you see and want to create your own t-shirt line – let us help you! Click here to get started with Threadbird.

Brand Feature: sothatway, an Eco-Friendly Brand

Posted on Wednesday, April 29th, 2020 at 8:00 pm.

Written by sothatway

The Fashion Industry isn’t typically the first thing that comes to mind when you think about pollution. Our minds usually draw to more obvious things like oil and smog. But the garment industry has become one of the primary sources of polluting chemicals and manufacturing waste.

Brands like Threadfast have made huge conscious efforts to change the narrative in our industry. Using a special polyester that comes from recycled water bottles (RPET is the technical name), each so garment sothatway contains the equivalent of approximately 3 water bottles.

Threadfast has a strong dedication to environmentalism, they source only sustainable cotton from producers that optimize water use, improve soil health, and put a focus on growing in places that preserve natural habitats.

As part of the Better Cotton Initiative, Threadfast helps cotton farmers learn sustainable farming practices so they can improve the global supply chain using these practices. Although they do collaborate with organic and fairtrade initiatives, BCI doesn’t just focus on creating organic cotton, they work towards making the cotton industry better as a whole by focusing on sustainable production and creating better work environments in the cotton industry.

Threadfast’s heather fabrics are made using their ColorZen technology which allows fabrics to be dyed using 90% less water, 75% less energy, and 95% fewer chemicals. Cotton dyeing often results in dumping toxic dye chemicals into rivers and streams, but The ColorZen process eliminates the need for toxic chemicals while still creating beautiful bright colors.

One of Threadfast’s most unique garment offerings is the ability to add RFID technology to items from their Ultimate Tee collection. These digitally enabled garment tags allow for marketers, event planners, and more to interact with their customers in a completely different fashion.

Here are a few of our favorite sothatway styles:

100A Ultimate Short-Sleeve Unisex T-Shirt

This t-shirt is a classic crew cut in a 60% cotton / 40% polyester blend. With an optimum weight of 4.8 oz, this t-shirt is 15% heavier than most 60/40 blend t-shirts. A distinct feature that sets these shirts apart is the color options. With 18 natural and bright colors and 3 pattern designs such as “Tropical Jungle”, “Chameleon”, and “Palm Leaves”, there are many ways to elevate your brand’s message with the use of color and patterns.

200RV Women’s Ultimate Short Sleeve Tee

Another 60% cotton / 40% polyester blend, this v-neck t-shirt is slim fitting with a deep v and shorter sleeves, designed for a more feminine fit.

100LS Unisex Ultimate Long-Sleeve Tee

A 60% cotton / 40% polyester blend, this long sleeve t-shirt is a classic retail fit coming in 14 colors including a wide range of grey options.

320C Ultimate Fleece Crew

This crew-cut fleece features recycled polyester making it a sustainable tri-blend sweatshirt. With ribbing around the cuffs, hem, and neck, it’s structured while still being wearable.

320H Ultimate Fleece Hoodie

The Ultimate Fleece Hoodie has a super unique pocket set up. Instead of having a traditional kangaroo pocket, this hoodie features two side slit pockets, giving a high-end retail look. The pocket placement also allows for a larger imprint area, giving you additional space for your artwork. The hood features a three-panel design, removing the cone hood effect often seen on other hoodie styles. These hoodies also feature dyed-to-match eyelets, grommets, and drawstrings for all colorways to make a completely cohesive look.

320P Ultimate Fleece Jogger

Pants should do more than just cover your legs. These fleece joggers are incredibly comfortable, soft, and extra long. Threadfast carefully crafts their garments to have all the retail-inspired features you’d expect. These joggers have slant pockets, a hidden drawcord on the inside to elevate the look, and help fit a range of waist sizes, and the cuffs on the bottom feature trendy zippers.

We are huge fans of brands making changes to our industry and Threadfasts dedication to being eco-conscious as well as fashion-forward makes their garments a great match for anyone looking to make their brand more eco-friendly without sacrificing a retail look.

Customer Feature: spring

Posted on Monday, April 27th, 2020 at 8:00 pm.

Written by sothatway

For this brand, dreams of summer are their everyday reality! Splash! Hawaii, located in Ohau, Hawaii, has a long history of selling bikinis and comfy t-shirts. Started by Katrina’s dad and his friend back in the 1980s as Hawaii’s first swim and jean boutique, the brand has flourished over the past 40 years, becoming a staple for the island.

“It took off. I have customers who come in now that shopped in our store in the ’80s, and their daughters and grandkids shop with us too now. It is very special. My dad and I are now business partners.” – Katrina

Katrina (the now co-owner) started working in the store when she was 15. Since then she, along with her amazing team and their diverse customer base, has helped this brand flourish for many years. T-shirts weren’t always their go-to item, but over the years demand grew. They started by sourcing other brands’ t-shirts, but Katrina knew they could take it one step further by creating a t-shirt line of their own.

And so their first long sleeve pocket t-shirt was born. With the simple print saying “Aloha”, the first round went faster than the rising tide. They keep their designs simple and speak to the Hawaiian lifestyle.

“I am a big believer in simplicity. Maybe it’s a Hawaii thing ;)” – Katrina

Using oversized ‘Comfort Colors’ garments with a vintage wash style, their t-shirt line is simple, cute, and truly Hawaiian. Hawaii itself is what inspires a lot of Splash! Hawaii’s designs.

“It is very unique to be surrounded by water, almost spiritual. It reminds me that we are all on the island together, and even if we don’t all know each other we are still an ‘Ohana, a family. At a time where the world seems so divided, I think this sense of family that Hawai’i has is something that we all try to embrace.” – Katrina

Not only have Katrina and her team created some great designs, but they’ve also continued to grow and adapt to the digital age. Splash! Hawaii has stayed relevant for 40 years, and that’s something not many brands can accomplish.

Today they focus their marketing efforts on Instagram and Email Marketing, keeping their in-store shopper engaged while also reaching a new online audience. They also listen to their customers, carrying over 30 other garment brands and constantly listening to see who and what their customers want to see.

Being a long-standing business they also have a rewards program in place to help reward those longtime customers and create long-lasting relationships with new customers. Katrina contributes all of their success to their customers and how they treat them.

“In terms of customers, create an experience. Customer service is key, but not in a pushy way. Create a customer loyalty list or program. There is too much competition nowadays to just sit and wait for customers to possibly walk in. We need to bring them in and keep them coming.” – Katrina

Splash! Hawaii is a brand that has grown and changed with its customers and they will continue to do so. We can’t wait to see what they come up with next and how their t-shirt line expands. They show that simple designs are eye-catching in the easiest way

And….

“Remember that sometimes less is more”

Check out spring

Work From Home – Top Options

Posted on Thursday, April 23rd, 2020 at 8:00 pm.

Written by sothatway

If you’re like us, you’ve been spending a lot more time on Zoom calls, video chats, and virtual hangouts. Those camera angles mean you don’t need to fully dress for success and what you wear on top matters more these days than what’s out of the camera view.

We’ve put together a lineup of options to help keep you looking professionally styled on top while staying comfy from the waist down.

J. America 9881 and Tultex 1910

FLEECE

ITC 224500, Next Level 9001, and Dyenomite 680VR

ITC SS4500 – Midweight Fleece Hoodie

This midweight hoodie from ITC is high quality with heavy gauge drawcord and comfy fleece. Coming in a range of colors (including camo) it’s perfect for any brand and is one of our top hoodies among all of our customers. (featured in Camo)

Next Level 9001 – Fleece Crew w/ Pocket

A crewneck sweatshirt with a pocket? Not just any pocket though. In WFH life this is your official snack pocket!

Dyenomite 680VR – Tie Dye Hoodie

Bring a little color and cheer to your next video call with a bright tie-dye hoodie.

Alternative Apparel 8626F, J. America 8891, and Tultex 1910

Alternative Apparel 8626F – Lazy Day Pullover

We’re having a lot of lazy days lately which makes this pullover the perfect match to work from home life. Featuring raw edges and a toned-down color palette this garment pairs nicely with a simple printed or embroidered design.

J. America 8891 – Quilted Pullover

Popular in collegiate apparel, this quilted pullover from J. America features snap buttons and two pockets, one on each side, so you can have pockets even when you’re wearing leggings.

Tultex 1910 – Heritage Hoodie

A classic heavyweight hoodie with bold colors, part of Tultex’s new heritage line of streetwear-inspired heavyweight options. Sneak Peek – Coming at the end of the month!

District DT571

FRENCH TERRY

District DT571 – Featherweight French Terry Hoodie

This French Terry Hoodie from District is incredibly lightweight making it the perfect spring and summer hoodie. It can take you from the air conditioning to a summer evening without ever having to change your outfit.

District DT571 and Alternative Apparel 9575CT

Alternative Apparel 9575CT – Washed Terry Champ Sweatshirt

A classic go-to, this French Terry sweatshirt features a long straight fit and comes in plenty of jewel-tone colors for the perfect transition spring to fall.

Alternative Apparel 5114E

CROPPED TEES

Alternative Apparel 5114E – Eco Headliner Cropped Tee

Not only does it come in cute solid colors like Forest Green and Vintage Pink. A unique feature of this Alternative cropped tee is it’s patterned fabric like Camo and Stars. Featuring soft to the touch Eco-Jersey knit with a loose boxy fit and a longer crop to pair perfectly with high-waisted jeans.

Next Level 7481S and Next Level 5080

#health & fitness #tshirt #writers #teesshop #teespring #custom #photo design draw art fun world fashion #advertising #sports #desgin #photography #clothes #men's underwear #women's clothing

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morningfears · 6 years ago

Text

Cocoon

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18!

Summary: Soft, fluffy, stoned sex with Calum. That’s it. (Drug mentions, obviously, and unprotected sex.)

Word Count: 3.1k

The playlist that Calum made with moments like this in mind is fading into background noise as your thoughts drift and your eyes focus on the tendrils of smoke pouring past his lips. You can’t remember what assignment you’d been stressed about only a few hours earlier as you watch the way his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip and you can’t say that you mind.

Nights like this, stretched out on Calum’s couch with a cloud of smoke lingering above you and his hands exploring your skin, are the ones that you look forward to the most. Before you began dating Calum, you never would have guessed you’d end up here. Yes, you had a tattoo and a nose ring before you met Calum. Yes, you drank occasionally before you met Calum. But you were always the “mom” friend.

You held a friend’s hair while she threw up or acted as the D.D. during nights out. You planned out your life to the letter and refused to step foot anywhere that didn’t look pristine. You cared more about getting good grades and being as close to perfect as possible than living a fulfilling life and you’re not sure how you managed to make it through without losing your fucking mind.

After Calum, however, things changed. It isn’t as if he ever pressured you, that’s the last thing Calum would do, but he did help you grow more comfortable in your own skin and with letting go of the control that you always desperately wanted. He helped you grow up and become the person that you’d always wanted to be but could never find the courage to become.

He helped you truly live.

After Calum, you found yourself enjoying nights out instead of spending them riddled with anxiety. You found yourself letting loose and dancing. You found yourself adding more and more ink to your skin in just the way you’d always dreamt. You found yourself with piercings that you’d never even considered before. You found yourself settling into your skin and feeling more comfortable than ever before.

You found yourself thanking your lucky stars that Calum Hood entered your life.

One of the only things that made you wary in the beginning of your relationship, however, was the drugs. You were sort of alright with him smoking weed. You never wanted to make a big deal out of it, especially because it seemed to be something he truly enjoyed. However, you weren’t interested in the slightest but Calum was fine with that. If he wanted to smoke, he’d disappear for a bit and return more relaxed and giggly than when you’d last seen him. He never forced you to participate, rarely asked, and it wasn’t until somewhat recently that your ideas about Calum’s habit changed.

“I fucking hate group work,” you sigh as you settle onto Calum’s couch and rest your legs over his lap, “I’m going to end up doing this whole project alone.” Calum hums his acknowledgement as he traces the small tattoo at your ankle, his fingers brushing the ink almost absentmindedly, but doesn’t say a word. Instead, he lets you continue with, “And it’s not a project I can do alone! I need their help. I don’t know why I picked a major that involves so much group work. Maybe I should switch to English or history or something.”

“You love your major,” Calum reminds you as he turns his head to face you.

“I know,” you huff as you tilt your head back against the arm of the couch, “I just, I don’t know. I’m annoyed and tired. I’m saying things I don’t mean.”

Calum’s eyes take in the state of your hair, disheveled from your fingers raking through it, and the deep frown on your face before he lingers on the dark circles beneath your eyes. With a sigh, he nudges your legs off of his lap and reaches out for you, his calloused fingers warm against your skin. He gently tugs until you’re situated on his lap before he moves one hand to cup your cheek, his palm gentle against your skin, and allows the other to drop to the top of your thigh.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” he observes, his lips curving into a frown. “Is it just the group project or is it something else?”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” you sigh as you lean in and rest your forehead against his. “You were good before I got here. I’ll just bring you down.”

“My girl’s upset,” Calum scoffs, “we’re not going to not talk about. You won’t bring me down, babe, I promise. My high’s wearing off, anyway, and I just want to help.”

After a moment’s hesitation, you sigh. “It’s partially the project,” you shrug as you focus on the drawstring of his sweatpants, “but it’s also finals and looking for grad schools and work and, I don’t know. There’s just a lot going on, you know?” When Calum nods encouragingly, you continue. “I just can’t seem to get any sleep. I’m worried about this or that or all of the above and my brain just won’t chill. I don’t want to take any sleeping pills but if I don’t start getting some sleep, I’m going to have to.”

Calum is quiet for a moment, his fingers tapping at your thigh as he considers his next words, before he asks, “Have you thought about smoking? I know you’re not a huge fan but it might calm you down enough to get you to sleep.”

Calum is surprised when you nod your head but says nothing as he waits for you to explain. “I have,” you sigh as you shift to look at his face, “I’ve actually done some research on using cannabis for sleep.”

He rolls his eyes playfully at your comment and shakes his head at you. “Of course you have, you nerd,” he laughs as he leans back to get a better look at you. “What did you find?”

“If you’re using cannabis as a sleep aid, it’s better if you’re not a habitual user. So, it probably wouldn’t work very well for you but if I used it every now and again, it might work for me.”

Calum nods, his eyes bright as he takes in your words. “So, it’d help you get to sleep but would it make you feel gross? I know that’s why you don’t like sleeping pills.”

“I don’t think so,” you shrug as you shift in his embrace, “Research is so limited because of our drug policy here in the States, which is a bummer, but, honestly, if it’s not a lot of weed and it’s in moderation, I don’t think it’ll be so bad. And, I mean, I’m getting kind of desperate. I’m willing to try anything.”

Calum raises an eyebrow at your words but thinks better of cracking a lame joke. He knows that you’re bordering on sleep deprived, the dark circles beneath your eyes more prominent than he’s seen, so he keeps his wisecrack to himself and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder. “Want me to get it ready for you or do you want to think about it some more?”

Calum’s face is soft, his eyes displaying his concern for you as he takes in your exhausted form. He’s never pushed, never even attempted to nudge you into smoking weed, and his desire to make you comfortable has never gone unnoticed. You truly appreciate it, you truly appreciate him, and you trust him to take care of you. So, without much of a second thought, you ask, “Can you do it without me moving?”

Calum laughs, a soft sound breaking through the noise of The Strokes, and you can feel it in your chest. “Yeah, babe,” he nods as he moves to sit up and tries his best not to jostle you too much, “just give me a second.”

It only takes a moment for Calum’s hands to find the pipe he’d placed on the coffee table as he grabs it, a lighter, and the little bag of weed, you lazily press your lips to his jaw. You can feel the goosebumps that erupt on his arms, can hear the shuddering breath he releases, and you grin when he tightens his hold on your waist.

“You sure you want to smoke?” he asks as he leans back, his eyes darkened with lust and his cheeks tinting pink, “I know another way to tire you out.”

“What are you thinking about?”

Calum’s voice pulls you from your thoughts and it takes a moment for you to realize that you’ve been staring at him for what must’ve been an abnormal amount of time. After taking a second to gather your thoughts, you answer, “The first time I smoked with you.”

He smiles at the memory and nudges your legs from his lap before he tugs you into him in much the same manner as he had that day. Once you’re settled on his lap, your knees on either side of his thighs, he brings his hands to your thighs and grins at you. “You were so afraid to even be in the same room as me when I smoked,” he reminds you with a smirk as his fingers trace the ink on your exposed thigh.

“Now look at me,” you hum lightly, teasing grin of your own quirking your lips, “smoking with the best of them.”

“You’re an absolute degenerate,” he admonishes with a shake of his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Love me?” you ask, a grin on your lips and a warmth to your cheeks as you wrap your arms around his neck and tangle your fingers in his recently bleached locks.

“Always,” he reminds you, his voice taking on the serious tone it gets any time love is mentioned. The atmosphere is light, still happy, but it makes your heart soar to know how seriously he takes those words. However, before you can dwell too long, he leans in and presses his lips to yours in a chaste, sweet kiss. He moves one hand from your thigh and brings it to cup your cheek as the other continues to trace the ink swirling over your skin.

He grins when you breathe a sigh of contentment, your nails gently raking over the back of his neck as he pulls you closer, and nothing else seems to matter as his lips move lazily against yours. You can feel the heat rolling off of him, warm and comforting in the air conditioned space of your shared apartment, as you press against him.

His movements are unhurried, as if he has all the time in the world, as he dips his hands beneath the hem of the t-shirt you’ve stolen from him. His fingers are warm as he brushes delicate patterns across your skin. He grins against your lips as goosebumps erupt over your arms and prickle at the skin of your stomach and you break the kiss with a soft laugh.

“You do that every time,” you remind him as you card your fingers through his hair, just barely grown out from the latest cut, “you make me laugh.”

“If you can’t laugh during sex, you shouldn’t be having sex,” he shrugs, as if it’s the most logical answer in the world.

When you roll your eyes, he grins. “We aren’t having sex yet, Cal,” you remind him with a raised brow as his fingers move a little higher, to the band of your bra.

“I vote that we should be,” he hums with a grin as he lifts his head to meet your eyes. “Unless you want to just watch a movie or something. That’d be cool, too.”

You roll your eyes at his words and laugh as you shift in his grasp to tug your t-shirt up and over your head. “I also think we should be having sex,” you giggle as you reach for the hem of his t-shirt. “And then maybe we can watch Ant-Man again.”

“God, I love you,” he sighs, his voice that reverent tone once more, before you lean in and press your lips to his in another unhurried kiss.

Though your movements are unhurried, you waste no time in raking your nails down Calum’s chest as he unhooks your bra. It takes a moment for you to move your arms and let the fabric fall to the couch beside you but the moment your torso is free from fabric, Calum’s hands are cupping your breasts. It’s almost reflex at this point, his hands on your breasts and his lips brushing your jaw, and it never fails to send butterflies erupting in your stomach as you sigh at his touch.

Calum is softer, sweeter, than anyone you’ve ever met with a heart of gold and a desire to give. He puts you ahead of himself every time and you think that one day, maybe, you’ll get used to it but as his hands smooth over your skin and his lips brush your skin, you hope that you don’t.

It’s quiet, save for the sounds of Van McCann’s voice drifting through the speakers, as you shift in Calum’s grasp. You can feel him, hard against your thigh, he shudders as your hands drag down his torso toward the waistband of his sweatpants. This is your favorite way to see him, hair disheveled and eyes hooded as he lets himself enjoy the moment without thinking too much about time or the world around you. It’s a triumph to see him at his most vulnerable, something friends warned you you would never see only for Calum to let you in far faster than anyone imagined, and it makes you want nothing more than to make him happy as you slip your hand into his sweatpants and giggle at the lack of underwear you find.

“Do you even own any underwear at this point?” you question with a laugh as your fingers find his length.

“Would just get in the way,” he mumbles against your skin as his own hands drift lower. You giggle at his words as you focus on his hands. You can feel the callouses from years of playing bass as he brushes your heated skin on his way to the waistband of your shorts. He shifts beneath you, moves so that you’re sitting up just enough for him to slip his hand into your shorts, and laughs when you release a noise that’s almost a squeak when his fingers brush your folds.

“Love catching you off guard,” he teases, a smile on his lips as he watches you shift above him. You don’t want to rush, you want to savor the moment and take your time, but you can’t help yourself as you shift to get a little more friction. Calum watches, eyes hooded and dark, as you begin to move your hips in an effort to get a little more pleasure just a little feaster, and almost stops moving his hand entirely as he attempts to focus on the feeling of you stroking his length.

“I know we’re going for slow here,” you breathe as his thumb moves to your clit and he begins brushing circles over the sensitive nub, “but I’m feeling like hurrying things up a bit.”

“Is that your way of asking me to just get on with it and fuck you?” Calum asks, his laughter barely contained, as you remove your hand from his sweatpants and attempt to nudge them down as far as you can with him still seated firmly on the couch.

“Yes,” you nod as you begin to shove your own shorts down. “Figured you’d appreciate it more than me just asking you to get on with it.”

“Blunt is sexy,” Calum shrugs, teasing mirth still present in his tone as he helps you out of your shorts, “but I appreciate the attempt at tact.”

You roll your eyes at Calum’s words and he grins. However, before you can complain, he’s pulling you back onto his lap and helping you settle into position. He wants to say that he’s surprised you didn’t last longer, wants to say that he expected the night to drag and the moment to last, but he can’t. He knows how riled up you get when you’ve smoked, knows how little it takes to have you ready to fall over the edge, so he goes with it. He helps you steady yourself and allows you to take control as you sink onto his cock. His hands grip your hips, blunt nails digging into your skin, as your hands grip his shoulders. He waits for you to sink onto him, to bury him to the hilt, and when you lean your head against his shoulder, he releases his grip on your hip and brings a hand to your clit.

His fingers brush the sensitive nub and stars burst behind your eyelids as you feel the pleasure crash over you. Calum can feel you clenching around him, can feel your nails digging into his skin and your breath on his neck, and it only spurs him on as he attempts to guide you in riding him. He meets your thrusts as best as he can, his fingers never stilling as he attempts to bring you over the edge, and you can feel the heat building in the pit of your stomach. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly you cum, the song in the background has only just faded into a new one, but you know that Calum would never judge you. He’s joked in the past that he’s glad he can at least make you cum and you’re beyond glad that’s the case as you feel yourself fall over the edge.

Calum isn’t far behind, his own end coming shortly after yours, and you can feel him still beneath you as he releases a moan of your name. You’re both still for a long moment, chests heaving and bodies flushed, but Calum comes to his senses first and carefully nudges you off of his lap as he reaches for the box of tissues on the coffee table. He mumbles an apology as he helps you clean up before he hands you your t-shirt and tugs on his sweatpants.

It’s quiet for a moment, the only sound being the next song off The Balcony, before Calum taps your ankle and grins at you. “Time for Ant-Man?”

When you grin, Calum nods and reaches for the remote lying on the coffee table.

Your life has changed since Calum entered it but, honestly, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than in your cocoon of happiness with him by your side.

Author’s Note: Haven’t written smut in a million years. I’m very sorry.

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taylorverse · 6 years ago

Text

My Taylor Swift Story

@taylorswift

hello taylor! can i just make a big point to say how incredible you are. so i don’t really make these sorts of posts because it just seems unrealistic to be not just noticed by you but by any other swifties. You, Miss Taylor Alison Swift are the actual reason why some people are still living their day to day lives. I have literally grown up listening to your music and there’s always been an element of happiness that it brings me, whether its the vibe of the song or the melody or the lyrics or the sweet and pure way your voice echoes the words. I have had every single album of yours on repeat for all the times i’m hovering over the bath shaving my legs, procrastinating doing revision and literally jamming to old tswift songs in my bedroom. I have spent hours laying in my bed looking up at the ceiling playing all too well whilst i cry my eyes about relating the lyrics to how hard life can be and how difficult it is to keep going. But your music has always been a huge element of my well-being as it just provides a sense of stability; the songs you’ve sung is the poetry of my emotions and the lingering thoughts that I just can’t seem to say. My younger self didn’t even realise what a toll you had on me growing up, I always bought every single calender and all the albums. I remember my dad buying me the signed version of RED and it was just the happiest day of my life. I so clearly remember just holding it in my hands and feelings so happy in that moment. The years where i was beginning to get a bit older and things started to shift, your music was the constant that was always there and never left. I had dance parties where I would be alone in my bedroom singing with the huge poster of you hung above my bed (which once actually fell on my face in the middle of the night and was absolutely terrorfying). My favourite memory was sitting downstairs late at night, when I was like 9 and watching the livestream for RED when you sat in nashville and played acoustic songs on your guitar. I was so happy in that moment, to be able to just feel so connected to a woman who didn’t even know I existed was unlike anything I had ever felt before. Then came my birthday where my dad surprised me with Red tickets I LITERALLY CRIED. The night came and it was my first concert, it was one of the London nights and we sat right at the back. My most vivid memory of that night was the two people behind us who were obnoxiously going on about how they were gonna meet you after and that the show didn’t matter as much. Me and my dad would look at eachother with a jealous smirk and enjoyed the show. To be honest, I can’t actually remember that much but of what I do, I could have sworn you waved at me (even though there were probably about 4894 people in my direction) and the small kid i was held onto that as we trecked our way back on the train at midnight. As this was my first concert and I was so young, it felt so cool to be awake so late and I was in awe of the night I had experienced.

Being at school, I was always known as the swiftie. I bought the drawstring Red tour bag from the concert because my dad said i couldn’t buy a top as he said “there’s no point in buying it if you’re going to grow out of it”. Anyway i used it as my PE bag and still do to this day. Everyone would tease me and I used to just SHAKE IT OFF and ignore the haterzzzz. My life was completely altered by that night, I wouldn’t stop thinking about it and I remember doing a show and tell in class where I played the videos I took of the concert on the big screen to my whole class as I passed around the rubber wristband I had too bought from that night. Everyone was so amazed by my experience, I was just so happy that I had seen my role model and that my life felt fulfilled at that point.

I’m now in secondary school, I have never ever stopped playing your music. I even got an app to see how many times I had replayed songs and it turns out i have listened to Speak Now all the way through 800 times (not including the years of listening to it on my iPod). Then when one day I was sitting watching greys anatomy (wink), I got an instagram notification that you had posted a picture. My heart sank as I began to wonder WHAT THE HELL YOU POSTED since you had disapperred from earth. Seeing the what i know now as the snake, I literally jumped out of excitement & an overwhelming burst of confusion built up as I tried to figure out what the hell was happening. More pictures posted and my lil swiftie inside of me came rushing out as I just skipped around the living room. I still remember staying up late to watch LWYMMD music video. It was insane. I lay in my bed with my headphones plugged into my phone and quietly shrieked at the BEAUTY of it. At this point I wasn’t as indulged in the online fandom as I am now, so I started to follow accounts like @marthaswiftie on instagram to be more involved and find out all these crazy theories. The reputation album came out the year right before my life kinda went downhill. I remember the tickets came out for the tour and I didn’t even ask my parents to go because we were going through such a tough time that my own selfish wants were not the priority.

So beginning 2018, my dad was diagnosed with cancer. We soon found out that it was terminal, which just broke our family individually in different ways. Our family is extreamely close and for something like this to happen, it was such a huge surprise that we just didn’t know how to react. My closest memory was sitting Physics class, just staring into space and all of these horrible thoughts were flooding my mind and all of the worst case scenarios just ruined me. Yet my naive self was so unaware of my emotion that I just carried on with my life, instead trying to be overly happy about life. At this point, my dad was is hospital most of the weeks spending time having his radiotherapy and chemotherapy done. I tried so hard to not think about it, that I ended up having so many breakdowns of which I spent crying my eyes out in my room just trying to hold onto hope that seemed so far away. Selfishly, I so wanted to see you on tour just to give me a pick-me-up but i felt so bad about wanting something for myself since I shouldn’t even be thinking of anything but him. Yet instead, I was so broken that I just ignored what was going on around me. This is what I’ve been learning to cope with and i think at points i felt so defeated. The tour month came up, i watched endless clips of people going and felt so hopeless in seeing you. I was in such a rut of trying to feel happier, yet trying to cover up the way I dealt with things by watching every Youtube video under the sun and literally all the shows on netflix to exist. Even writing this now feels so narrow-minded but it was just the way I was going through it. The literal day before the tour, my sister surprised me with tickets and i canNOT TELL YOU the rush of happiness I felt. I sobbed so much, I did not sleep as I lay thinking about what I was going to wear and the fact that i was going to see you in the flesh.

The day came, and there are truly no words to describe it. I left school early, rushed home and did my makeup and hair. We hopped on the train and made our way up to london. I remember getting into Wembley and as soon as we walked out of the station I saw a huge group of people wearing merch tops and that’s when it started to kick in. We had a few hours, so we walked up and down the streets, me noticing all the outfits from music videos and award shows that people were dressed up in. Then we sat in nando’s, literally starving and as we ate our food just kept repeating to eachother, “we’re gonna see TAYLOR SWIFT” and every time it gave me goosebumps. A little girl came in as we were finishing, she had little cat ears on and a tutu. She had a top that she had DIYed herself that said I LOVE TAYLOR on it. My heart melted as we made our way out of the restaurant and grinned our way up to the stadium. The closer we got, we saw so many people with VIP necklaces and we looked at eachother rolling our eyes because we were jealous haha. I was so shocked by the diversity of people there, literally every type of person was surrounding us obviously in awe of the event that was about to occur. My favourite bit was walking up the huge pathway to the door entries, we came super early so I could get merch and our route was filled with girls screaming at the sight of eachother. My sister was so confused so I filled her in on the details of how so many people meet online through fan acounts and these concerts are where some of them finally meet. The merch queue was huge, but i had saved enough for a hoodie so we made the decision to stand in it. There were a few girls behind us complaining about the outfits people were wearing, we were annoyed because they kept saying “why do they dress up so much she’s not gonna see them” and my blood just boiled as their remarks piled on top of eachother. As we reached the front of the queue, we heard Charlie playing from the stadium because this line ended being 2 HOURS LONG. I didn’t care though, I said to my sister that the whole fun of it is to wait the long hours and dedicate our time to this day as it was a once in a lifetime. I bought the black hoodie with the zipped hood, they didn’t have small so I got Medium which ended being HUGE, but I love it because I snuggle in i every night. Straight after, my sister took a cute pic of me in the hoodie to send to my mum right before we were about to go through security. It was my first time at wembley so I had no idea what I was doing, but I just followed my sister as we got our bags checked and prepared ourself for the view we were about to whitness. My heart began beating so fast, I was in complete shock and my sister gripped my hand as we found our entry doorway. My first thought was, WHAT THE HELL. I had never been in such an overwhelming place. IT WAS HUGE. the amount of people there just left me in a sedated state for a second before we trudged down the stairs to find out seats. We were in block E, on the floor. It was my first time not being super high up, so i felt so privileged as i strut across the metal walkway feeling so happy about where i was. The struggle to find our seats was REAL. We spent ages when they ended up just being right in front of us the whole time. As soon as we scooted through the others, we sat down and just took a second to realise that we were about to whitness TAYLOR SWIFT PERFORM. My adrenaline was going crazy, my sister took tons of pictures and videos to send to my parents and they were so jealous! Then Camila came on, she was incredible. Everyone stood up as my short height meant I was staring at the huge screen, miming to lyrics to consequences and never be the same. She left and the stadium began to flll up and it just got so much louder. Anticipation grew, every single person in that stadium was just so happy. The Ready for It tune started and that’s when it all kicked off. I lifted myself from my seat, screamed to my hearts content as my sister sang along whilst also watching me give a performance in front of her. Every song was just so amazingly performed. Then when the b stage was next, the whole floor just legged it to get closer. I was nervous to lose my sister or the bags so i remember turning behind me as my sister grabbed the bags and said ‘go’. Little old me bent through the crowd, I ducked beneath and tried to get as close as I could. I remember standing on a chair and as I did i realised that i was less than 5 metres away from TAYLOR SWIFT. I sang along to So it goes and turning back every now and then to see where my sister was and I kept saying ‘Emma, I AM SO CLOSE I AM GONNA CRY’. Every now and then I would pull my phone out for videos but I wanted to grasp this moment as I let all my worries wash away and I whitnessed the most insane moment of my life. As the move for the next stage came, I followed the movement of the crowd as the security officers began to strictly tell people to stop standing on chairs. There I was, spinning around every now and then to see the crowd. Dress was the current song and my eyes lit up at the beauty of Miss swift. The concert followed with so much energy, the seats we had were right at the back of the floor but it was amazing to feel the lit up souls of everyone around me. There was just so much energy, so much love. One thing I remember was grooving to a song when the confetti began to float over us. We were so far back that it didn’t quite reach us yet this one piece was slowly floating mid air quite far back. I followed it with my eyes and reached to grab it as another girl took my opertunity. I was slightly annoyed, but the scenery of lights and idea of my idol being in the same room brought me back to happiness. The night ended with me and my sister talking on the phone to my mum, praising the show and just feeling so blessed. The nightmare of getting home began, as we got on the wrong train and then as we finally settled we were so tired that we almost got lost. My sisters boyfriend picked us up and we got home in a blur of sleep.

That night was unforgettable. It was just all my needs in one place, i felt so satisfied and i watched the videos I filmed of it months and months after, remenising on it. Coming back to present, TS7 is on its way. I woke up at 5am to see the ME! music video as soon as it comes out and see all of the hype. This has been the best day in ages. I have bought the song on itunes and streamed it on every device & app. My fingers literally ache from typing this in one sitting, but it was amazing because I just went through that night all over again from writing about it. But my point is. Whoever is reading this, Taylor or even just my grandma; there is happiness out there. I live by Taylor Swift and her music, she will always and forever be my role model, I LOVE YOU @taylorswift

#taylor swift #taylurking #taylornation #me! taylor swift #me! music video #taylor swift swifie #swiftie #swifties #taytay

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taylorsmiththeauthor · 6 years ago

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An Empath, A Psychic, & A Human; first chapter

I’ve decided to take some advice from the tumblr writing community and build my empire, so to speak. So here is my first post about writing, despite the fact that I’ve been on this website for over a year lol. Feel free to check out my wattpad, @Real_Taylor_Smith. I’ve also just put up instagram where I’ll be posting news, extra content, and excerpts as well as here! It’s @real.tay.smith and soon I’ll have a website up. A little heads up, this story has a fair amount of foul language, so be warned. Until then, happy reading!

HUMAN

The air in the truck was tense.

No one had really been sure of what we were supposed to fight. The best that had been offered to us were a few blurry pictures of a massive scaly beast with wings, and audio of a terrible scream that seemed to come from the beast. The world quickly claimed that a dragon had somehow come to be – and we were supposed to fight it.

I glanced around me at the faces. They were all of my friends who had signed up to be in reserves, which was part-time military. We all had our reasons; money, benefits, looking good on applications, or whatever. We wanted to serve from the comfort of our homeland, not fight dragons in downtown Toronto, the biggest city in Canada and seventh most populated in the continent.

I took out a picture I always kept in my pocket near my heart; a photo of my girlfriend. It was one of my favourite photos of her, because it captured her almost completely. She was standing on top of a crazy old Mayan ruin, overlooking an ancient plaza, the jungle, and a large river. She grinned at the camera, hands on her hips, smile lines crinkled around her blue eyes, blonde hair escaping from her bun pinned back with a hairpin made by locals. She looked incredibly happy and in awe of the place she was standing on. That had been taken about two years ago on her last March break trip of high school when she went to Belize with the school. I liked to carry the photo in my uniform, remember that she was waiting for me back home.

“Alright pansies, listen up!”

The sharp command from our sergeant had me scrambling to put the photo away as he stood up and handed out new pictures.

“Now I can’t say that I’ve ever fought dragons before, nor have I been taught the protocol, so I don’t really know what to do. But that’s fine because there is one thing I do know – it is our duty to keep this place safe. Toronto has yet to be fully evacuated and the beast is not contained. We still have no idea where the hell it came from or what the hell it is, but we gotta stop it.”

A photo came around to me and I looked at it, my heart plunging into my feet. The thing gripped the top of the CN Tower, green leathery wings spread wide, head open in a snarl, mouth full of jagged teeth. The thing looked huge, at least the size of a T-Rex. I passed the picture.

“Because we have no idea where this fucker is going to go, we’ve set up a perimeter along the Harbour Front, Bloor St, Bathurst, and Don Valley. We’ve got about fifty platoons stationed around to stop wherever this thing decides to go. We’ll be down on King, by the Princess of Wales Theatre. We’ll be there soon so start your praying, because we’ve got a one in fifty chance of being stuck with this beast.”

I looked over to my left and met eyes with one of my oldest friends, Donovan. He, another friend of ours, and myself all joined together. The other friend, Kaiah, was exceedingly lucky as her family had all gone to another city for a funeral. So, Donovan and I were about to face a dragon.

“What’re the odds it has a video-game weak spot?” Donovan asked quietly, “Like, a soft spot on its belly?”

I shrugged, “With your luck, no.”

“Don’t speak of my bad luck, because then we will have to face the damn thing.”

“Knock on wood I guess.”

“Everything near is us metal, so we’re all fucked then.”

We laughed quietly, the impending doom still very much a real threat. We talked for a little bit but soon fell silent and felt the seconds tick past. Far too soon, the sergeant stood up.

“File out in formation!”

We followed, hopping out of the truck and getting into two straight lines, facing east where the monster would be. To my left was the theatre, and I vaguely remembered going to see a play with Hazel. The Curious Incident of the Dog in The Nighttime, I think. Now, all the signs read Hamilton, which I knew Hazel had been dying to see. She said I would like it, but she felt bad because she had already promised Mackenzie she would take her because she was already a huge fan. I smiled, grateful for the memory.

However, I was violently ripped back to reality when I heard a screech. The videos didn’t capture it. Nothing could.

It was as if a T-Rex and a lion roared while someone scraped their nails against a chalkboard and it shook us to our core. I didn’t pray nor did I believe in a god, but I found myself asking that it wouldn’t be us, please let it not be us.

“And just what the hell do you think you��re doing?”

My back straightened automatically and I opened my mouth to make an explanation, but it wasn’t me the sergeant was talking to – two weird civilians had wandered into the area.

One of them was Hazel.

She wore a long white dress with bronze breastplates, shoulder pads, arm guards, and gladiator boots. Her dress was styled like an Ancient Greek chiton, and the blonde hair piled up on her head sported a style from the same period. From her back sprouted a massive pair of dove wings, the feathers an opal-esque shade, shining dozens of colours, the edges of the wings covered in bronze. At her hip was a woven belt on which hung several drawstring pouches and a dagger.

The person beside her was dressed just as weirdly, but very differently. Their entire outfit was made of brown leather and bronze plates, and it kind of looked like a rogue from D&D. Like, 90% of the pants were extremely tall leather boots with straps and holsters for knives and other things. The top was a green tunic that went just above their elbows and brushed the top of the boots, under which seemed to be brown hide. They had a brown cloak on top with a hood, a green cloth pulled up over their nose, the same pine green as their eyes. They had a mask on their face seemed to be made of moss, covering the area around their eyes. Little flowers sprouted from it as well as small branches with blossoms out the top, making it look like they had antlers. From what little I could see of them, I could tell they had dark brown skin and a very thick afro. I had no clue whether it was a guy or a girl.

“We’re ordering you to evacuate the area,” Hazel said calmly, arms crossed and hip out to the side. That meant she didn’t want any fooling around.

“Except for you, there aren’t any civilians downtown.”

“As far as we’re concerned, you are civilians.”

“Hey, Crybaby, aren’t they militia?” The other asked.

Hazel looked at them and then at the platoon before turning back to her partner, “No, this is the reserve force, it’s part-time military. Civilians, technically.”

“Oh shit, right. Is that thing you were worried about…?”

“Yes.” Hazel spoke curtly and it seemed like she glanced at me, but it was so fast I couldn’t tell.

“We are official military,” the sergeant said angrily, “and you’re civilians! You need to leave immediately, or I will remove you by force, which I do not wish to do.”

“Just try it,” the partner scoffed, but Hazel shot them a look and they rolled their eyes, maintaining quiet.

“I apologize, but you are unfit to deal with this problem,” Hazel said cooly, “We are, however, very well-versed in dealing with wyverns.”

“And just what the fuck is a wyvern?” The sergeant spat.

“What you’re planning to fight,” the partner said, “and my pal here knows that it’s going to be coming this way, so you better get a fucking move on.”

“How in the hell do you know this?” The sergeant asked, seeming to be unsure.

“Classified.” They spoke in unison.

“So please just leave it to us and get your soldiers out of here,” Hazel said, seeming to be losing her patience.

“I can’t do that!” The sergeant was losing his too, “You’re just a couple of wackos who’ll get yourselves killed and land me in a world of trouble.”

“Quite the opposite, I assure you.” Hazel glared at the sergeant and her partner narrowed their eyes, which made him apprehensive.

“Who the fuck are these people?” Donovan asked beside me.

“You serious?” I said, turning to him, “That’s Hazel, I can’t tell who the other is though because of the mask.”

“What?” Donovan asked, looking at them, “How do you know it’s Hazel? She’s wearing a mask too. And what’s with the wings?”

I opened my mouth when another screech ripped through the air.

“You have three minutes before the wyvern gets here,” Hazel warned, danger in her tone, “So either you let us do our jobs or you die and make it a lot harder for us. But one thing is for sure, we will do what we need to do to take this thing down.”

The sergeant shifted, “Well just because you wear weird clothes and know what this is doesn’t mean that you can defeat it.”

“Look, man,” the partner spoke, “we can’t do anymore than is allowed for the situation so how about this – let me fight your best fighter. Whomever wins can kill the beast, old honour style.”

“That’s ridiculous,” the sergeant scoffed.

“Well, your attitude calls for it.”

“Appy,” Hazel warned, “be careful.”

“But you’ll ref, right?” The partner asked, “Fae rules and all?”

Hazel sighed, “Yes, I’ll ref.”

“Great. So good sir, get your best fighter.”

The sergeant scowled but turned to us, “Jackson! Front and centre!”

We all watched as Tyler Jackson, a big muscular prick of a guy, stepped forward with a grin. He was proud and self-centred, and by far the best fighter we had. He had yet to be beaten in hand-to-hand, even from the sergeant. The small person didn’t stand a chance.

“What’re the rules?” Tyler asked, “And do I get a prize?”

“If you lose, you live. If you win, you die with honour. Pick a blade.” The small person didn’t seem to give a shit that Tyler was twice their size.

Tyler grinned and pulled a knife from his pocket. He was deadly with it, and everyone had at least one scar from it.

“Let no blood be spilled,” Hazel said as she and the sergeant stepped back to give the pair space, “Appy, I’m serious.”

“You’re no fun,” the partner complained.

“Where’s your blade?” Tyler teased.

The partner, evidently called Appy for some reason, reached for a bronze armband on their upper arm and pulled it off, glowing as it extended into a massive broadsword. Appy grinned like a maniac and Tyler looked scared shitless.

“Appy,” Hazel warned.

Appy sighed and the sword shrank down to a dagger, “Just wanted to scare the guy,” they complained.

“Make it quick, let no blood be spilled, and may the winner have the honour of defeating the Wyvern. It hath been spoken, thus let it be.” Hazel raised her arms as she spoke, saying it like a chant. A heavy weight settled in, as if the words themselves really carried a spell.

As soon as Hazel finished speaking, Appy lunged for Tyler, but he saw it and dodged. Yet Appy was too fast. They caught him by the middle and flipped him over, causing the blade to fly from his hand. He made an oof as he hit the ground, the wind knocked from him. Appy sat on his chest and pinned his arms with one hand, the other holding a knife to his throat.

“One...two...three. And that’s match. We shall fight the wyvern,” Hazel announced, glancing at the street beyond them, “and just in time. You need to take your soldiers and leave, get as far away from here as possible. But if you see the wyvern, freeze – they like a moving target.”

“What the hell is that?” The sergeant barked, “There had to be some trick!”

“No, trick, I assure you,” Appy said as they got off of Tyler, turning their back to him, “I just guess that military training doesn’t match up to a Knight’s.”

Tyler was enraged, and it was obvious. He had never lost a fight, especially not to someone so weird and small. He snatched his blade from the ground and thrust up on his knees, aiming for Appy’s side.

Appy sidestepped easily and sliced their blade across Tyler’s arm, causing him to cry out in pain and drop his blade.

“That’s one angry dude,” Appy said as they slid their dagger, now an armband, back into place.

“I said no bloodshed,” Hazel huffed as she knelt down next to Tyler and pulled out a roll of gauze.

“The fight was over!” Appy argued, “Besides, he was wanting to give me a scar, everyone in this damn platoon has one from him. Thought I would return the favour.”

“God, you’re like a dumbass Batman villain,” Hazel complained to Tyler as she bandaged his wound, “With less honour than the Joker, you piece of shit.”

“How did you know I was thinking that?” Tyler asked, scared, “You psychic?”

“Term is telepathic,” Hazel said matter-of-factly, “I’m psychic, Appy’s an empath. Now that that’s cleared up, leave.”

The sergeant bristled at the last word as he had watched everything unfold.

“Just because you won one fight-”

“I’m sorry,” Appy snarled, suddenly rounding on the sergeant, pulling their blade out and holding it dangerously close to his face, “Do you not understand basic combat rules, let alone fae? I won, so you leave. You can’t break a deal, or the fae will fuck you up, if I don’t get to you first. Feel fear.”

At this, the sergeant scrambled back, visibly shaken and sweating.

“Appy!” Hazel scolded harshly, “Fear won’t help this, only make him worse. Besides, it’s too late now.”

“Too late?” Someone asked.

“Yeah,” Appy said coolly, “blame these two assholes.” Their head jutted towards the sergeant and Tyler, “If they had only let us do their jobs then y’all’ight’ve lived.”

“No one is going to die,” Hazel assured, taking the sergeant by the arm and picking Tyler up, leading them to where the rest of us were standing. She pushed Tyler off on someone and sharply told the sergeant; “Stay behind this line.” Then she produced a piece of blue chalk from her belt and drew a curved line in front of all of us, chanting quitely all the time. Once she finished, she bent down and kissed it, making the line glow a faint blue. A shimmering wall formed in front of us, Hazel standing on the other side. Then she turned to us, “Don’t move, don’t make a noise, only breathe if you need to. Disobeying any of these will get you and everyone else killed.”

“Crybaby, E.T.A.?” Appy called, a longsword suddenly in their hand as a shriek cut through the air.

“Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”

As soon as Hazel finished saying ‘one’, she pulled something from her pocket, watched by the wyvern as it rounded the corner.

“Oh, we are so fucked.”

#original works #EP&H #my writing #original writing

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tired-writeblr · 6 years ago

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My first chapter

Sup dudes!

Some of you seem interested in my current wip, so I thought ‘what the heck, let them read some of it.’ Please bear in mind that it is the very first draft, and is by no means even near perfect, but I think it has some moments that shine through, and I hope you enjoy!

It was a relatively average night for a country village. There was a spot of rain, but the kind of rain that struggles to make a person even slightly damp, rain so light it’s almost as if it apologises for each little drop that hits. “Oops, I’m awfully sorry” the rain might say “I really hope I didn’t make a mark.” It’s awfully polite rain. The village, though small, had everything a person could need (as long as that person was a medieval peasant). It had some stalls to purchase goods, farms to work, a Blacksmith's shop, and the two most important buildings, that would remain a vital necessity for every Christian town, city and village for centuries; a place to worship, and a place to get drunk afterwards.

Candle light could be seen glowing in the church, even though it was in fact completely empty. The tavern, on the other hand, was packed. Of course, this shouldn’t be a surprise; drinking is a lot more fun than praying, even the priest and monks agreed. Hell, at a time when even drinking the water would probably kill you, getting drunk was one of the few pleasures people had. And since the water was likely to give you a minor case of death, it was much safer to drink wine and mead, and so getting drunk was just a daily fact of life. The tavern was quite large, with plenty of wooden stools and wooden tables, most of which were occupied by drunken men and women (and some drunken children). The owner, a large bald man with a crooked nose, light brown skin, and a very welcoming smile, was behind the counter serving people drinks, whilst his two daughters, Camilla and Magdalena, were running about carrying food and collecting the tankards. Camilla was a large woman, with her father's smile, a broad nose, long black hair in a bun, and brown eyes. Magdalena was thin, and had her father's crooked nose, but unlike her sister had brown hair in a long plait. Both were beautiful in their own way, and both were often the victim of unwanted advances from some of the non-local male patrons, which often didn't end well as Magdalena had a hell of a right hook, and Camilla often used it as an opportunity to pick the man's pocket.

The tavern was often a noisy place. That night was no exception. And one table a drunken coachman was telling tales no sober person would believe, but the men and women at his table were not sober and took him at his word. At the bar itself sat a large drunken monk with a big walrus moustache. He was one of those people that would be incredibly forgettable if it weren't for one single feature. For this monk it was his moustache. It was so memorable that people simply called him Friar Moustache, which he believed to be a term of endearment, but was in fact because not a soul in the village knew his actual name, not even the priest (who was at this point sat next to Friar Moustache resting his head on the bar, drunkenly mumbling incoherently). Friar Moustache was leading a choir of drunken men singing a popular drinking song. There were a lot of harrumph's and ho's, and a great deal of crude language and descriptions of various lewd acts. The only one more enthusiastic about the song than Friar Moustache was an old man, possibly in his early to mid sixties, known to the villagers as Ser Malcolm the White. He looked a bit like a mid-sized bear. Well more accurately, a mid-sized, shaved, pink, alcoholic bear wearing an almost shoulder length curly white wig, with a scruffy white goatee, a wrinkled face, and tired eyes. His accent was surprisingly similar to the modern Glaswegian accent. He had once been a knight who fought for glory and honour and place in the history books, but he never won any of those things. All he did achieve was reaching a ripe old age, and now the only fight he had was the one to get out of bed each morning, which was getting harder every day.

On a table near the back of the tavern sat a young man just holding a tankard. His skin was pale, his eyes were wide, and tired looking. He gazed ahead of him as if he were staring into the abyss itself. This young man was an unfortunate peasant by the name of Glenn, and earlier that day he had died, which, as it usually does for most people, was causing him a great deal of distress. Now, many may think ‘well, he doesn’t seem that dead, he seems pretty alive.’ And those who do think that would be correct. He was in fact very much alive.

***

“Don’t worry, I got this this” Glenn had said to the huntsman, as the boar began charging and he attempted to pull back the drawstring on his longbow. He most certainly did not. You see, longbows require a great deal of upper body strength, which weedy, little Glenn didn’t actually possess. Why he had been given a bow by his father, it’s hard to tell. Perhaps his father hated him, which actually seems quite likely; he did have several more capable siblings. He managed to pull the bowstring back only a little before releasing, causing the arrow to travel only a couple of feet in a downward arch until it landed on the ground in front of him, seconds before the boar collided with him, knocking him to the ground. It would have actually been a little funny if he weren’t about to die. The huntsman tried to stab the beast with, but he missed, and the boar itself narrowly missed him. He immediately decided the best course of action was to run away before he was killed horribly. The beast chased him off a little before turning back towards Glenn. By this point he had managed to get to his feet, but his head was still spinning, and he was very unsteady on his feet.

The boar looked more like a monster than anything else now. It looked almost the size of a cow, with huge sword length tusks either side of its incredibly large snout. Of course, it was not in fact that size, or even especially monstrous. It was an average boar, but in his panicked, and dizzy state, his imagination had gone mad. It didn't help that he had never actually seen a living boar this close before, so he had no memory to compare it to. He attempted to stagger away, with little success. He stumbled just as the beast charged at him again, and this time was immediately gored by the creature’s tusks. It was a rather unpleasant sight, huge gashes into the poor man’s flesh from the beast’s tusks. Spaghetti sauce or blood gushed out of the wound, covering his shirt. It was probably blood. Either way, it would stain. The world around him began to dim, and the last thing he saw was the bloody beast wandering off back into the forest.

Okay, so it wasn’t the last thing he saw. Not long after, he awoke to find himself still in the forest, and caught a glimpse of the beast’s backside as it wandered off. For a second he froze and held his breath, but when he was sure the boar wasn’t going to charge again, he sat up, and touched him side. He found two large, deep gashes from the boar's tusks on his right hand side that should have killed him as far as he was aware, but there was no blood. He stood up, and looked back to where he had been lying. His eye widened.

“Holy mother of god!” he screamed, on the edge of tears. Lying there, at his feet, was him. Well, more accurately, his body. Even more accurately, his very bloody body, with the exact same wounds he had. He stood there, staring at his own corpse for a while, sobbing in a very gross, ugly fashion.

He was disturbed from his silent mourning by the sounds of loud slurping. He turned to see a skeleton in a large black hooded cloak, and bright blue fluffy bunny slippers, drinking something from a ceramic mug covered in little colourful fish. The being was reading a newspaper (of course, Glenn had no idea what a newspaper was, as they wouldn’t be a thing for a few more centuries, he was also mostly illiterate, so it just looked like a piece of paper with squiggles one – which is all any newspaper or book is really) and hadn’t noticed him. He coughed a little to get the being’s attention, with no success. Whatever they were reading in the paper, they were engrossed in it. The being took another large, loud sip from his fish mug, and spoke. “Hmm, four down, five letters, unpleasantly bitter” said the being in an almost ethereal, other worldly voice. The being reached to put their mug down on a table that wasn’t there. The mug fell to the ground, and smashed. The being looked up from his paper, and down at the broken mug, then looked at Glenn, then back at the mug, then back to Glenn.

Now, without an actual face the being couldn’t really provide any facial expression that would suggest just how annoyed they were, but they were incredibly annoyed, and would have scowled at Glenn if possible, which it wasn't (no eyebrows). They were so annoyed that they gave off this feeling of deep, intense annoyance, that even the dimmest of people could pick up.

“Oh great” said the being sarcastically “another dead mortal, just what I wanted.” Glenn shuffled awkwardly and didn’t say anything. He tried to avoid making eye contact. He didn’t want to make the skeletal being even angrier by saying something stupid. It did not work.

“I was happily doing my crossword, drinking my coffee, but you just had to die, didn’t you?” continued the being, slowly becoming less sarcastic, and more openly angry about having been disturbed “bloody mortals, I hate this damned job.” At this, Glenn was confused.

“What job?” he inquired

“Oh for goodness sake, are you really that dim? Must I explain everything?” replied the being

Glenn shrugged and nodded awkwardly.

"It might help a bit" he said.

The being groaned at this and would have grimaced if they could have.

“Very well. I am Death, claimer of souls, destroyer of worlds, and you died” said Death reluctantly “I’m here for your soul blah, blah blah, take you to the afterlife and all that crap so you can be judged by some jumped up little prick” Glenn just stood there, slightly stunned by the fact that he was talking to death, but also a little underwhelmed. He expected more from Death, though he couldn’t tell you exactly he expected. He definitely would have preferred someone nicer.

“That it?” he said after a few moments of silence.

“I’ve been doing this for a while buddy, and honestly I can’t be arsed with this” replied Death tiredly. They stood in silence for a few minutes. Glenn wasn’t sure what to say to an immortal cosmic entity. Death was beginning to think they should have listened to their mother and become a butcher (though in a way, being the grim reaper isn’t all that much different to being a butcher, at least, that was what they had said to her).

“So, mister Death, sir” began Glenn ending the awkward silence.

“Now listen here mate” said Death, interrupting the recently dead person “I am a skeletal cosmic freaking entity that exists outside of space and time, I really do not have the time for the restrictive genders of you mortals”

“Oh, right, sorry” responded the recently deceased Glenn “you could be a bit nicer about it though, I have just died!.” He gestured to his still warm body, that was lying in a pool of his own blood (or spaghetti sauce, though probably blood), and was being pecked at by a bird that looked a bit like a raven, though since Glenn knew nothing about birds, especially ravens, he wasn’t entirely certain.

“Mate, shut up” said Death “damned mortals!”

“But what now though?” asked Glenn, ignoring Death, “do I go with you? Or am I stuck here?”

“Honestly, I don’t care mate, do what you want” replied Death exasperatedly “I just want to go back to my crossword, but now I have to deal with all the sodding paper work!”

“Could you just let me go back to being alive?”

“Not likely, I mean look” Death said as he pointed at the corpse being pecked at what may or may not have been a raven “you are pretty obviously dead.”

“Oh, right” responded Glenn gloomily “I understand.”

“Although” began Death craftily

“Although what?”

“You could just be mostly dead”

“How can I be mostly dead?” asked Glenn confused by the whole situation

“Well, you personally are obviously properly dead, but sometimes people are a little bit alive, and in those circumstances, I can let them go back to being alive”

“Okay!” responded Glenn excitedly.

“And thankfully there is no paperwork because you were alive” continued Death happily, using his skeletal fingers to do air quotes around the word alive “plus I don’t have to deal with you anymore, so go on back.” Glenn nodded and followed Death’s orders. He lay down on top of his body, and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, and then winced in pain. His eyes shot open, and he sat up, covered in his own blood, shirt ruined, glad about not having to be dead, but understandably still rather shaken by the whole experiences.

“Oh, by the way, don’t die again anytime soon, because if you do I’ll make you regret it” said Death threateningly before grabbing his newspaper and disappearing.

***

"Helloo, anyone home" said a woman's voice startling Glenn a bit, causing him to drop him his empty tankard. It was Camilla.

"Ah bollocks" exclaimed Glenn

"Watch your language Glenn" responded Camilla feigning offence

"Sorry, I was someplace else" explained Glenn

"No worries sweetie" she said reassuringly "is everything okay? You look like death." Glenn reached for his side. His shirt was still a little damp with his spaghetti sauce, I mean, blood. It was probably some sort of health and safety violation for him to be in the tavern, but they didn't have health and safety, which explains a great many things about the period, like why there were so many things that could end your life prematurely.

"Its...err...I'm fine?" he replied, though it came out as if he were asking a question.

"Oh, that's great sweetie" said Camilla, completely uninterested, she wasn't really paying attention. The tavern was busy and Glenn was one of those people who you could easily forget about. She grabbed his tankard and got back to work.

The singing had all but come to an end, even Ser Malcolm had stopped. The only one still singing, if you could call slurring most of the words and forgetting the other ones singing, was Friar Moustache. He was swaying a little one his stool and swinging his arm about, seemingly forgetting he was still holding a half full mug of mead. His big finish came, and he leant back on his stool and toppled over, flinging his mug into the air, which quickly came crashing down onto the head of another drunken patron.

"oi, Wheresh me drink gone?" slurred Friar Moustache "were in me han!"

He struggled to get back up onto his feet. Camilla walked quickly over to see what the commotion, and bent down. "Let me help you Friar" said Camilla. He smiled at her a great big stupid drunken grin.

"Yur a riight goodun" he replied taking her hand and letting her pull him up.

"You need to go home Friar" said the owner in a thick Lancashire accent from behind the counter "You've had a bit much mate."

“Iamsickofyourshit,” Moustache said, his words tumbling from his mouth in a rush of barely distinguishable syllables. The owner nodded to his daughter, and a couple of his larger, more sober patrons, who grabbed the drunken holy man, and tried to escort him calmly out.

“Gerroff me!” he said as he wobbled “I’m ash sober ash ‘m gonna git. And there nuffink - wait wait wait - nuffink you can do ‘boutit.” He shook free of their grasp, and ambled back to the bar without so much as hiccup in their direction. The owner was much less polite after the first attempt.

"Just carry him out" he ordered a couple of patrons.

"Gerroff! I'm a man o cloth" objected Friar Moustache "I'ma have words with god if ya don't gerroff." They ignored him, and carried him through the tavern, whilst the other patrons simply ignored what was pretty average for a Sunday evening.

They carried him through the door and dropped him on the ground. "Sorry Friar" said one of the men who had been carrying him. The friar rolled over and struggled to get up, but refused to any offer of help from those who had just chucked him out.

"Itsh fine, gerroff" he said "I can do it meself." The men looked at one another, shrugged and went back inside. The friar climbed back onto his feet and stumbled forward. He grabbed a wooden hitching post for support. He clung there, slack-jawed and slumped over, for a long time before he began staggering away from the tavern towards the church. He was planning to have a bit of holy wine before heading to bed. It was dark, and the polite rain had become proper rain. He was drunkenly mumbling angrily to himself about having been thrown out of the tavern. He was insistent that he wasn't that drunk, even though he was barely able to stand, or string a sentence together.

As he approached the midway point between the tavern and the church he noticed a very bright, almost blinding light out of the corner of his eye. He turned¸ squinted, and walked towards the light.

"Whasis? Whas goin on?" he exclaimed, though still slurring his words "Lord is tha you?"

Friar Moustache walked into the light, and fell backwards with a loud 'oof'

"Watch where you're going, drunk prick!" yelled a feminine voice, coming from the light, as it seemed to float round the friar and wandered towards the edge of the village. Moustache sat there for a minute, his mouth agape, shocked. After a few minutes of watching the light float away, he drunkenly climbed up onto his feet, looked towards the church, then at the tavern, then at the church again, made the sign of the cross, then staggered back towards the tavern.

#my wip #long post #writing #comedic fantasy #fantasy #indecentpause #wip

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A Starco Christmas on Earth

So this is what happens when requests for “Starco in snow, Starco having Christmas on Earth, Starco holidays gifts,” and Starco fluff with a dash of my signature drama, all come together in a mishmash of holiday goodness.

This one goes out to my chat fam @starbutterfly-diaz, @ghostgetters and my sis @pottyprismpower. Have a great holiday season, folks :)

“Eeeeeee! Marco you were right, you do have snow on Earth!” Star skipped out the door of the Cleveland airport, dragging her hot pink rolling suitcase behind her as she marveled at the piles of snow plowed up on the sidewalks. In the past couple of years, she had been disappointed to learn that snow never fell in Echo Creek, their holiday seasons being greener than she would have preferred. So when Angie announced that they would be spending Christmas that year with her relatives, Marco was quick to tell Star that Ohio winters were much colder.

“Ice patch!” Marco cried out hastily, grabbing the princess by the arm before her leaping feet flew out under her due to some slick ice covering the curb. “Watch where you’re going, we’re in a huge city.”

“I thought you said your grandma lived outside of Cleave Land.” She pronounced it as two separate words, making Rafael and Angie chuckle behind them as they hauled their own luggage to the taxis parked in a bumper-to-bumper line.

“I know but ‘til we get there, I don’t wanna lose you in a crowd,” Marco explained. And as if to emphasize his point, he wrapped her gloved hand in his and held on tight.

Star stared down at their joined hands, her heart emblems disappearing behind a blush. Giggling, she swung their hands back and forth like a little lovestruck schoolgirl. How many times had they subconsciously grabbed hands before? And now his touch flustered her? She shook her head: Being in love with your best friend was scary sometimes, a progression in their relationship she and Marco were still fumbling their way through. But nothing had ever felt more natural or more right than the moment they pledged their devotion to each other. And she knew that Marco stopping her from slipping on ice, or not wanting to lose sight of her in the bustling city, were his own little ways of saying he loved her.

“Why don’t you two take that cab, and we’ll get this one?” Rafael called, pushing the teens towards the yellow taxi ahead of theirs. “You remember the address?”

“Yes Dad, I remember,” Marco huffed out as a strong frigid gust of wind blew through, and he pulled the drawstrings of his red hood tighter around his face. “Have I mentioned how much I hate the cold?” he muttered to Star.

“Only like a thousand times between last year on Mewni and the past fifteen minutes since we landed,” she deadpanned, pecking the end of his nose underneath his nearly concealed eyes. “Let’s go, I can’t wait to meet the Phalanges.”

“I gotta warn you, they’re a little...loud,” Marco said hesitantly, throwing her bulging suitcase into the trunk beside his before the driver closed it. “I mean, most Greek families are, and it can be overwhelming for anyone not used to--”

“Marco, have you met the Johansens?” Star raised her eyebrow, folding her arms over her chest. “Trust me, I can handle it.”

“Touché,” her boyfriend chuckled, sweeping the car door open for her and gesturing for her to slide in. “After you, Princess.”

“You don’t have to pull the squire act here, Marco.”

“I know.” He grinned, sliding in next to her and slamming the door shut as he felt her snuggle up beside him. “But I like doing it.”

“And I like feeling safe in a strange place, so I guess we’re even.”

“Hey lovebirds, where to?” squawked the impatient voice of the cab driver, and the two of them jerked apart, blinking rapidly when they realized just how long they had been staring at each other.

“Er-- uh, 320 Sycamore,” Marco stammered out, “In Valley View.” He wrapped his arm around Star when her head dropped onto his shoulder, tuckered out from being awake and excited on the long flight. And when he was sure the cranky driver wasn’t looking, he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

Suddenly, he wasn’t nearly as cold as he was before.

As soon as they pulled up to the quaint little suburban house adorned in multicolored lights, they were greeted by a thin sprightly woman with greying dark maroon hair, grey eyes full of joy and wearing the ugliest reindeer sweater Marco had ever laid eyes on.

“Angela!”

“Good to see you, Mom!” Angie trilled, rushing up to kiss her mother on the cheek while struggling to balance the bags in her hands. “Thanks so much for letting us stay with you.”

“If it means I get to spend a week with my pride and joy, I couldn’t say no.” Grandma Phalange immediately turned to Rafael and grabbed his face down to her level, kissing his cheeks. “I’m of course talking about this one right here!”

“Aw, I love you too, Maralena!” the thickly built man said happily, lifting the older woman up in his arms and squeezing her to his chest.

“Rafael, not too hard,” Angie whispered as an aside, to which her husband promptly set his mother-in-law back on the ground.

“Marco?! Is that really you?”

“It’s been awhile, Nana,” Marco smiled, watching his grandma scurry over to him and letting her bestow a dozen kisses on his face.

“Look how tall you’re getting! You can’t be sixteen already, I refuse to believe it.” She poked him in the stomach, causing Marco to jump back sharply. “But you’re too thin, I need to fix that while you’re here.”

“Nana, you remember Star?” Marco gestured back to where his girlfriend stood in her bright red fur coat. “You met her a couple years ago when she was living with us as a foreign exchange student.”

“And judging from Marco’s Netbook status, I think I know why she is no longer living with you,” Grandma Phalange winked at Star before kissing both of her cheeks as well.

“You’ve been stalking my Netbook?!” Marco’s voice cracked in surprise.

“How else can I keep up with my family’s escapades?” she shrugged innocently, holding Star’s hands in hers. “I don’t blame you, she is such a pretty one.”

“Aww, thank you!” Star giggled, pressing her cold hands to her hot face to cover the blush.

“And free-spirited. You need someone like that in your life, Marco, you’re too tightly wound.” Patting his cheek, she scooped up the handle on Star’s suitcase before reaching for Rafael’s bags. “Let me show you to the guest rooms before you all freeze out here.”

“Coming, Tightly Wound?” Star joked over her shoulder at Marco.

“Go on ahead, I’m gonna grab my mom’s stuff,” Marco waved her forward as he hung back with Angie.

“You little liar,” his mother hissed once her husband and Star were out of earshot inside the house. “I know what you really wanna talk about.”

“When’s a good time to ask her?” Marco asked, jerking his head towards where his grandma had just departed.

“Tomorrow, while the cousins are here,” Angie replied, wrapping her scarf tighter around her neck as a chill swept through the air. “It’ll be so hectic no one will overhear you. Take her aside privately and just...go for it.”

Marco closed his eyes and nodded. His mother tried to make it sound like it was no big deal, but to him it felt like heading for the gallows. It wasn’t everyday you asked for the promise ring that your great-grandfather had given to your great-grandmother decades ago so you could give it to the girl you loved. And he knew Grandma Phalange was really touchy about the subject.

“Are you sure Nana’s gonna let me have it?”

“I’ve already mentioned this to her, Marco,” Angie said quietly, holding him by the shoulders. “It’s not like you’re going in blind. But she did say you needed to make a pretty strong case for yourself.”

“If this doesn’t work, then I’ll have no Christmas gift for Star,” Marco sighed dejectedly. “And she bought mine three months in advance.”

“Look at me,” his mother whispered, placing a finger under his chin to raise his eyes to meet hers, soft and green and filled with maternal love. “Just tell her what’s in your heart. For once in your life, honey, don’t overthink it.”

“Do it again, do it again!” little Cassie cried out, jumping up and down clapping her hands in the snow mound piled up to her knees.

Star laughed, “Okay, one more time.” Closing her eyes, she spread her arms out to the sides and let her inherent power take over. Bright yellow wings fanned out from her back, her long hair twisted itself up into two gold protruding braids, two extra pairs of arms extended from her sides, and her clothes unfurled into a bright yellow dress with orange trim. She hovered above the ground for a few moments while the Phalange cousins gaped at her in awe. Opening her eyes, Star fluttered over to a fresh patch of snow and lay down on her back, imprinting a perfect snow angel.

“Marco, your girlfriend is so weird,” Cassie’s older brother Gene shook his head with his eyebrows raised, before he went back to staring at his phone screen. His little sister, however, was enthralled.

“She’s like a fairy princess!” she exclaimed as Star flew over to her, dusting little snowflakes into her hair. “I like her!”

“Yeah, I like her too,” Marco smirked, rubbing the top of his cousin’s head. “Aren’t you cold?” he then asked Star, eyeing her bare arms.

“Kinda,” Star admitted, flitting her moth-like wings over to him. “Gosh, if only I knew a gentleman kind enough to offer me his hoodie.”

“You’re gonna have to catch that gentleman first.”

Star snorted. “Are you challenging the princess with butterfly wings to a chase?”

“Gimme a ten-second headstart and we’ll call it even.”

“Hey!” But Marco had already taken off down the hill, and she growled before flying after him. “I didn’t agree to that headstart!” Once she was positioned directly above him, she dive bombed, hearing him yelp as she tackled him into a snowbank. Not only did she have wings to her advantage but six arms as well, and with that, she easily pinned him to the ground.

“I admit defeat!” Marco cried out, putting on a show for his cousins who had scampered down the hill after them. “Here’s your prize, Princess.” Unzipping his jacket, he pulled her closer and wrapped his coat around her, letting her lay on top of him in an embrace.

“Mmm, we’re laying in a snowbank, but I don’t feel the chill at all,” Star murmured contentedly, pressing her cold nose to his neck, and he shivered a little. “Best friend, squire, boyfriend and personal heater all in one. I hit the jackpot.”

“Get a room!” came Gene’s call, and the couple laughed before exchanging a brief kiss.

“Wanna build a snowman next?” Marco asked.

“Um no, why would I subject your little cousins to one of those horrible things?!” Star shouted as she sat up, suddenly looking terrified.

“What are you talking ab--?” And then it hit him. “Wait, lemme guess: Snowmen are bloodthirsty monsters on Mewni who, I dunno, eat children or something.”

“Of course!” Star cried out.

“Star, what’d I tell you about nature on Earth?” Marco said patiently, sitting up beside her. “It’s nice. It’s gentle. Look how beautiful the snow looks right now.”

Star had faded back into her normal Mewman form over the course of their conversation, and now turned to look off into the distance. The flakes were falling gently, landing in her hair, on her coat, and mingling with her eyelashes. It was so peaceful, so serene out here, the snow on the tree branches looking like the pictures she saw on greeting cards in the stores.

“You’re right, Marco, it is beautiful.” She turned her head back to look at him, only to be stopped by his lips, capturing hers in another deeper kiss. Marco pulled back to look at the little flakes in her lashes, the rosy patches on her nose and cheeks just above her heart emblems. There wasn’t a single sight in winter more beautiful than this, and he could stare at it forever.

“Are you guys done playing?!” came Cassie’s call.

“Coming!” Star yelled back, standing to help Marco to his feet. “Marco said we should make a snowman next!”

“Yay, snowman!” Cassie cheered, running off to gather as much snow as she could with Gene trudging behind her.

“You guys go on ahead, I’m gonna go inside,” Marco said, letting go of Star’s hand as he started back up the hill.

“Wha-- c’mon Marco, seriously?” Star whined, tugging on his arm. “We’re having so much fun! Just a little longer?”

“Nah, you know I hate the cold. Plus I need to help Nana make Christmas Eve dinner.” Star frowned when he leaned in to peck her cheek. “I’ll see you inside, okay?”

He turned away and had only made it about ten feet before something hard, cold and wet smacked him in the back of the head. Whirling around, he saw Star still frowning at him, wiping snow off of her wand crest.

“Poophead!”

“I’ll make it up to you!” Hopefully, he added to himself as the back door of the house came closer into view. His uncles and older cousins were huddled around the television watching the game. His parents had gone into town to get more groceries. That meant his grandma was alone in the kitchen. It was now or never.

“Star, what’s it like being a princess?” he heard Cassie ask excitedly. “Do you wear pretty dresses and go to balls every day and dance with princes?”

He had to snicker to himself. His cousin was in for a wakeup call when Star told her exactly what being a real princess entailed.

“Marco, while I appreciate your perfectly formed meatloaf,” Grandma Phalange remarked as her grandson pulled the pan out of the oven later that afternoon, “I have a feeling this isn’t why you came to see me. Especially while your girlfriend is still outside with the kids.”

“Nothing gets past you,” Marco laughed a little too loudly before setting the meatloaf on the counter with a clatter. Tossing the oven mitts aside, he grabbed the tea kettle off its spot on the stovetop and began filling it with water. “How about a nice cup of chai tea? Your favorite, right Nana?”

“How did you know?” she gushed, pressing a hand to her heart. In reality, she knew exactly why he was buttering her up. Her sons Damien and Nick were only a little older than he was when they came calling for the exact same thing ages ago. Every man in their family coveted it, and knew what presenting it to that special someone in their lives meant.

“The red mug is yours, right? Or the tan one?”

“Marco, stop,” his grandma insisted, laying a hand on his arm. “We both know what you want. So let’s just cut to the chase.”

Marco set the two mugs gently down on the counter and sighed, chewing on the inside of his lip as he dropped a tea bag into each one. Very slowly, he turned to face her, straightening himself up tall, brown eyes boring into grey ones.

“I want the promise ring.” He tried not to sound demanding or impatient, keeping his hands firm at his sides even when he felt the urge to shove them in his hoodie pocket. “If I could. I-I wanna give it to Star.”

“The alien princess?” his grandma raised her eyebrow at him. “You really think the two of you have a future together, with one of you living here and the other in a castle on Moonie?”

“It’s Mewni,” Marco corrected her. “And I spend a lot more time with her there than I do here, to be honest. I’m training to be a knight right now.”

“Wow, look at you. I remember when you were afraid to flush the toilet when you were first potty trained. And now you’re sword fighting in another dimension’s kingdom?”

“No offense -- actually you know what, full offense -- why are you being so cynical?” he shot back at her. The tea kettle on the stove began to whistle as if on cue and he wrenched the dial to the off position sharply. “I thought the ring was a token of love and devotion and all that other mushy stuff.”

Grandma Phalange let out a long sigh, rubbing at the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger. Taking up the kettle, she divided the hot water between the two mugs. “Come here, paidí mou,” she said, taking him around the shoulder and leading him to the tiny kitchen table shoved into the corner, lowering herself into the seat across from him. “You like honey, right?”

“Sure,” Marco shrugged, swirling his spoon around in the caramel brown liquid once a dollop had been poured in.

“So I guess college is still a ‘maybe’, what with the--”

“Nana, you’re stalling.”

“Marco, that ring is cursed,” the older woman blurted out, slamming her hand on the table top so hard the liquid sloshed over the side of her cup. “How do you think I still have the thing? Because it keeps getting sent back to me. Your uncles both got divorced after they gave it to their wives. One of the hussies tried to pawn it off, and I managed to snag it before it hit the shelf. It’s passed through the hands of two of your older cousins already -- neither of their partners were able to commit.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Marco challenged her.

“Nothing,” she replied despondently, her veiny hand closing over his. “You know you’re my favorite grandson, I don’t try and hide it. That Star is a sweet girl, very funny and always smiling. But what makes her so special that you wanna give her your progiagiá’s ring?”

Marco chewed on his lip, staring down at his reflection in the tea. “You don’t know everything we’ve been through, Nana. It’s a lot. I’ve put my life on the line for her, and vice versa. One time she left me, without warning or so much as a goodbye, and it was like half of me went with her. I felt...incomplete. I needed her strength, her courage, her energy, and her spirit in my life. And it turns out she needed mine, too. I’ve lost her in so many ways. But...somehow, we always found a way back to each other.”

He squeezed her hand with newfound determination. “She’s my best friend. The greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. My...my lifeline.”

“I see.” Grandma Phalange drummed her fingers on the table, taking a sip of her tea as she glanced off to the side, a faraway look in her eyes. “On the ring, there is an inscription inside of the band. Do you know what it says?”

“Um, no. I’m, uh, not really fluent in that old text.”

“It is pronounced dýo psychés syndedeménes. Which in English means ‘two souls bonded’.”

Marco felt as if he’d been smacked in the head with another snowball. It’s like the thing was made for them.

“Does that sound like a phrase in line with you and your Princess Star?”

“Yeah--yeah, I think that might fit,” he squeaked out, while silently adding to himself, You have no idea.

And as if to emphasize, he took a long slurping sip of his tea.

“Marco!”

“I’ll be back out in a minute!” he called to Cassie, who had run back inside the house to meet him in the hallway, where he was lacing up his boots. In regards to the ring, his grandma had left him with a firm “I’ll think about it”. Which was better than a flatout “no”.

“Marco, come quick!” He looked up to see his little cousin wide-eyed and frightened, her green eyes watering. “Star made a sled out of a magic shield thing and went down the hill, but there was a tree and she hit it really hard and now--!”

“Where is she?” Marco asked huskily, grabbing her by the shoulders, his blood running cold.

Cassie said nothing, but took him by the hand and pulled him out the door, his coat open and his head and hands bare against the frosty air. Jogging over to the edge of the hill, his heart stopped. Lying on the ground beneath a pine tree with a dent in its trunk was Star’s motionless body sprawled facedown in the snow. His steady jogging sped up to a sprint, not stopping until he was at her side.

“Is she dead?” Cassie wailed as her cousin dropped to the ground and gathered up Star in his arms.

“No.” He didn’t know what compelled him to answer so certainly, he just felt like he’d know it if Star was actually dead. Luckily for him, he did find a pulse in her neck. “Star...Star, are you okay?”

“Mmm…” Her face twitched once it was released from being suffocated in the snow, her lids opening slowly to reveal her clear blue eyes. “Marco? Whoa...what happened?”

“You crashed your sled into a tree,” Marco replied in a long relieved exhale. In one swift motion, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her back up the hill, Cassie running ahead of them to open the back door.

“Where is it? Me and Cassie were in the middle of a race--”

“No, we’re done playing in the snow. We need to get you inside and warm you up.”

“Marco, I’m fine,” Star insisted, her tone laced with annoyance. “You can put me down.”

“I will once we get you in bed.”

“Bed? Marco, I’m not sick! I just hit a tree!” She spluttered indignantly, “I’ve taken way worse hits than this, you know that!”

“Yeah, but I’m not risking you getting hypothermia, which your body can have a delayed reaction to--”

“Okay, stop.” She pushed herself out of his arms, causing her to drop five feet to the ground. Brushing snow off her front, Star began to stomp the rest of the way back to the house with Marco tailing her closely. “I wanted to have a fun, unforgettable Christmas with Earth snow instead of in Echo Creek, and you’re just being a--a fun sucker!”

“I’m trying to look out for you!” Marco shot back, catching the back door before she slammed it in his face. “I’m your--!”

“Squire, I know!”

“Boyfriend! Best friend! All of the above! Point is, not only would your parents kill me if anything happened to you on this trip, but I’d never be able to live with myself!”

“I’m a warrior princess!” Star shrieked, stomping her slushed wet boot against the floor. “I don’t need you to protect me!”

“Whoa, drama,” came a voice from behind them, and they whirled around to see two of Marco’s older cousins, Zoe and Nikki, ogling them as they stood there in thigh-high boots and mini skirts, slipping on their suede and leather jackets.

“Mind your own business,” Marco snarled a little more aggressively than he meant to.

“Then get outta the way, we’re heading out,” Zoe snapped back, pushing past him towards the door.

“Where you going?” Star asked, almost eagerly.

“Gonna hit up a couple bars in town,” Nikki said, tearing her eyes away from her compact mirror to eye the princess up and down. “Why don’t you come too, Star? We can show you around.”

“She just crashed headfirst into a tree, I don’t think she’s feeling up--”

“I’d love to!” Star blurted out, glaring daggers at Marco for daring to answer for her.

“Cool,” Zoe nodded approvingly, throwing the door open once again as Marco’s jaw dropped open in shock.

“Wait a sec, what about Christmas Eve dinner?!”

“Relax little cuz, we’ll be back before dinner,” Nikki said, pinching his cheek, and Marco grimaced in a way that suggested she had done this often in the past. “Nana knows we always show up fashionably late.”

“Star, do you really think this is a good idea?” Marco implored her, fearing she would faint due to a concussion or worse.

“I dunno, Marco,” his girlfriend bit out, flinging her scarf back over her shoulder as she let the two older girls lead the way. “But I’m gonna figure it out for myself -- without your input.”

“Fine,” Marco spat out. And he took the liberty of slamming the door behind her once she stepped back outside. At this rate, not only was the ring getting further and further from his grasp, but so was a possible future with Star if he kept refusing to let her figure things out for herself.

Anger faded into acceptance, and acceptance melted into guilt as Marco glumly assisted his parents in setting the table for dinner. Of course everyone in the house had overheard his fight with Star, and of course Grandma Phalange had regarded him with emotionless eyes and a deep frown -- which meant he could forget all about the promise ring.

So not only had he pissed off the girl he loved more than anything, but now he didn’t even have a Christmas gift for her. Best vacation ever, he thought to himself sarcastically.

His uncles were already on their third beer of the night, and the rest of his cousins who had arrived later that day were screaming loudly at the TV when Marco heard the back door open once again. He rushed towards it, ready to shower Star with every apology he could think of when he stopped short. Only Zoe and Nikki were in the hallway, kicking off their boots.

“Where’s Star?”

“In the patio room. She, uh, wanted to be alone.” Zoe looked apprehensive, twirling a strand of purple-highlighted dark hair around her finger. “There was an incident downtown.”

“Is she okay?” Marco’s mouth was dry, his heart plummeting to his stomach.

“Look, y-you’re gonna need to ask her yourself,” Nikki stammered out, desperate to avoid talking about anything heavy. “Girl code. What happens in Vegas, ya know?”

“Right,” he nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “Tell Nana we’ll be eating later.”

Rounding the corner, he walked into the more modern addition to the house to find Star sitting on the sofa of the cabin-like living area, staring into the fireplace with her hands folded in her lap. Her head was bowed, long sheets of her luscious golden hair hiding her face from view, not even looking up when she heard someone approach her.

“Can I sit here?” She didn’t answer, and Marco took a chance, timidly lowering himself beside her on the couch. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry about earlier, Star. I just get scared, it’s not that I don’t trust you--”

“It’s okay,” she whispered so quietly that he almost missed it. She shifted her legs, and only then did Marco notice a long rip in her red and white striped leggings.

Oh no, I was right...she did fall. Did she pass out from the crash earlier and was afraid to admit it to him? That know-it-all Safe Kid Marco would pull an “I told you so” and make her feel bad? He wouldn’t, of course, he would just be glad she was still here with him. Her safety was always more important to him than anything else -- even being right. Admittedly, it had taken him awhile to get to that point.

She remained silent and still, refusing to look at him, and he decided to just bite the bullet and ask. “Zoe said there was an incident?” That made her stiffen, and he slid closer to her. His heart clenched; he could see a purplish bruise around her wrist. That wasn’t from a fall.

“Star…” He reached gently for her injured hand, cupping it in both of his. She sniffled, and he watched a couple of drops fall into her lap. Now he knew for sure it wasn’t what he thought it was. It was worse. “Tell me...you can always tell me.”

Her other hand came up to swipe at her eyes, averting them from his as she remained fixated on the leaping flames, as though fascinated by them. “We were at one of the bars, and we were just about to leave,” she began in a wavering voice. “There was this guy…”

Marco froze. He knew where this was going, and he didn’t want her to finish. But now she was unloading on him and couldn’t stop.

“He must’ve overheard me say I was mad at my boyfriend. Huge guy, like, big as your dad. I told him I wasn’t interested, or available. I even thought about pulling the princess card.” She choked on a hard laugh that died into a sob in her throat, her fingers closing around Marco’s. “It didn’t matter. I...tried to walk out the door, and...he grabbed me.”

“Here?” Marco asked quietly, cradling her wrist in his hands.

“No, I mean he pushed me against the wall and he grabbed me.” Star’s other hand slid to the inside of her upper thigh, and Marco’s face hardened, a searing ribbon of anger winding its way around his heart and squeezing tight. “It all happened so fast, I couldn’t even stop him with my Wand until after he’d already--”

Her throat closed up, tightening with emotion, and she swallowed hard several times before going on. “But yeah, I blasted him back into the wall and took off down the street with Zoe and Nikki before he became conscious again.”

He’s lucky that’s all he got. Marco heard his heart pounding in his ears, felt the heat rising in his face. There were some black belt techniques he knew he would have performed without any shred of honor, moves that would’ve done that creep in if precisioned accordingly. But there was nothing he could do now. The damage was done. And that killed him more than anything. There was nothing he could do.

“And you know what’s funny? What’s absolutely hilarious?” Star raised her head at last, revealing the tears on her cheeks streaking over her heart emblems. “In that split second he had me, and every moment afterward, even though I took care of him myself, I…I was wishing with everything inside me that you were there.” Her face crumpled, her body beginning to tremble with suppressed sobs as Marco rubbed the back of her hand. “See how that works? I told you I didn’t need you to protect me, and then-- sweet Mewni, it’s such a joke. I’m a joke.”

“No you’re not.” It was all he could say. He let her take the lead, remembering from his psychology book that in terms of physical affection, it was best to let the victim determine what was best. When she saw Marco open himself up invitingly, Star broke down completely, leaning against his chest and sliding her arms around his waist. Only then did he envelope his arms around her shuddering form, rubbing little circles into her back as he let her cry it all out.

“I’m here now…” he whispered into her hair. “I’ve got you now.” Marco heard a slight movement from the doorway, and looked up just in time to see his grandma’s retreating form. On the table next to Star’s end of the couch, she had set a tray with two steaming mugs of hot cocoa.

And between them...his heart leapt into his throat: An aged velvet ring box.

He didn’t understand what had suddenly made her change her mind, nor knew how long she had been standing there. Maybe he’d ask her about it later. Or maybe he’d just count his blessings. As Star began to quiet against him, Marco reached for the comforter on the back of the sofa and tucked it around her.

“Here, Nana made us cocoa.” He quickly swiped the ring box from the tray before Star noticed, handing her a mug when she raised her head slowly.

“Thanks,” she mumbled thickly, staring blankly down into the brown liquid and trying to focus on Marco’s arms secured around her -- and not the horrific sensation of where she had been touched earlier that evening. “Ya know, last year we were almost killed by the Stump, and this year…” She trailed off, dashing some more tears from her face. “Honestly, I’d rather take on the Stump over this any day.”

“Me too,” Marco nodded, sipping slowly from his own cocoa. He reached up to brush her hair from her face, “Feeling any better?”

Star lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I feel safe now. I guess that’s all I can ask for.”

Marco felt that familiar tug of guilt seize him, his hand travelling down to cup her cheek. “Star, I’m so sorry this happened. You’re beautiful and brave, you can take care of yourself, and nothing that happened today was your fault.” He kissed her forehead, “I love you, Star.”

“I love you, too,” Star warbled out, trying desperately not to start crying again. But those deep brown orbs staring right through to her soul were making it impossible. As she went to embrace him once again, she felt a slight bulge poking out of his front hoodie pocket. “Marco, what is that?”

“O-oh, that.” Not exactly the best circumstances under which he wanted to offer the Phalanges’ most precious heirloom, but he knew Star wouldn’t leave it alone until he told her. Marco pulled out the box, facing it towards him before finally opening it.

It was cast in gold, polished good as new despite its age, and adorned with a brilliant ruby bordered by two tiny pearls above and below it.

“Marco?”

He removed it from the box, and sure enough, he found the black inscription on the gold band beneath the gems: δύο ψυχές συνδεδεμένες.

Two Souls Bonded

“Oh my corn, it’s a ring!” Star leapt backwards in the most spontaneous motion he had seen from her in hours, the remains of her cocoa splashing onto the floor.

“Wha--wait, Star, calm down--”

“I’ve seen the movies, Marco!” she continued in a panic, pointing frantically. “I know that’s what Earth girls wear when they’re gonna -- when someone asks them to--!”

“Star, it’s not an engagement ring,” he stated evenly. “W-we can’t get married, I haven’t even sent out my college applications yet!”

“Oh...right…” She slid back into the cushions sheepishly. “I’m sorry Marco, go on.”

Marco exhaled forcefully, more out of nerves than anything, placing the ring into her palm. Her eyes lit up, sparkling baby blue in the flickering firelight.

“Marco, it’s beautiful.” There was something raw and rough about hand-crafted Earth jewelry, something that made it more meaningful than Mewni’s magically formed precious metals that looked almost too perfect. Real effort was put into these, and Star could see it in every inch of this ring.

“It was my great-grandma’s, given to her by the man who would become her husband. It’s been a tradition for one of the Phalange men to give this ring to...the most special person in their lives.”

“And you’re giving this to me?”

He swallowed hard. “A while back, I knelt before you and took a vow to be by your side in times of peace or danger. Today, I failed to keep that vow.”

“Marco--”

“Yeah Star, I did,” he cut her off earnestly, feeling tears form in the corners of his eyes. “I wasn’t there when you actually needed me most. I failed you as your squire today, and I can never fix that. It’s in the past. But now...I wanna look ahead to the future.” He turned the ring over, showing her the inscription, “In Greek, it says ‘two souls bonded’.”

Star’s eyes welled up, “Our two souls are bonded.”

Marco nodded, turning her hand over and sliding the ring up her left finger. “Starlight Destiny Butterfly, please accept this ring as my solemn promise to uphold my oath from this day forward: To be your faithful squire, your devoted lover, your loyal battle partner, and most importantly, your most cherished and dearest best friend, until the end of time.” He held his breath. “Do you accept?”

“I...do,” Star breathed out, tears pouring freely down her face as she gulped. “Marco, I...I can’t believe you think I’m worthy enough for--”

“Stop right there,” Marco whispered. “Whatever you’re thinking, just stop. You are always worthy enough, and don’t you ever doubt it for a second.” He kissed the back of her ring hand, then pressed his lips to her injured wrist even more tenderly. “Merry Christmas, Star.”

“Merry Christmas, Marco,” Star whimpered, closing the distance between their lips. It was salty and gross from her tears and snot, but it sealed the deal between them once and for all. She had never been more in love with the young man in her arms than she was right now, the familiar sensation of her heart emblems glowing radiating from her cheeks.

“Star, I’ll never be able to protect you from everything that’s out there,” Marco said softly as they broke apart.

“And I don’t expect you to,” she replied, cradling his face now marred by a few glittering tear tracks. “But I’ll always have your arms to come home to when I need that protection. That’s enough for me.”

“Marcooooo!”

“What is it, Cassie?” Marco rolled his eyes, he and Star chuckling as their intimate moment was interrupted by the little girl bounding into view.

“When are you coming to eat?”

“In a minute, I’m giving Star her Christmas present.”

“See?” Star thrust her left hand out, dangling the ring in front of the child’s wide eyes.

“Pretty!” Cassie cried out, clapping her hands together. Then a sudden realization came over her face, “Wait, so does that mean Marco’s your prince now?!”

“Uhh…” Marco trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck with a lopsided grin. “It’s not really a--”

“That’s right!” Star nodded eagerly, grabbing Marco’s face and kissing his lips once more. “That’s right, Cassie...he’s my prince.”

And they pressed their foreheads together silently as the fire continued to crackle before them.

#lawchan writes #star vs the forces of evil #starco #star butterfly #marco diaz

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softboywriting · 7 years ago

Text

Mated Pt6 // Werewolf Shawn

Summary: You and Shawn are mates. He’s an alpha werewolf. You’re a human. Also…you have a boyfriend already. What happens when a werewolf is rejected by his mate?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

You turn around as Shawn pulls his jeans off. You stare at the far wall, looking around aimlessly when you catch sight of Shawn in the reflection of the mirror on the back of your door. He’s standing there in his boxers that are clinging to everything, drying his hair with the towel. He looks up and sees you in the mirror and smiles big and lets out a chuckle.

“Do you have anything I can wear?” Shawn asks as he wraps the towel around his waist.

You turn around and go to your dresser. “I think I have some sweats and a hoodie maybe?”

“Perfect,” he says as you hand him a pair of your older brother’s black hand me down sweats that are too big for you and an oversize hoodie you had folded up on top of your dresser. It’s the only things you have that might fit his huge frame. You turn around as he puts them on in case he wanted to take his boxers off. “I’m sorry Liam was such an asshole in the end,” Shawn says softly.

“Don’t be. I should have seen the signs earlier.” You don’t turn around as you talk, you just stare at the wall. “He had been doing this thing where he would ignore me for days on end and then act like nothing happened.”

Shawn walks forward and stands behind you, “He was cheating on you?”

You turn around at the closeness of his voice, jumping a little when you bump into him. “Y-yeah. God I should have thought of it earlier...I’m so stupid.”

He reaches out and tucks some hair behind your ear. “You’re not stupid. You didn’t want to be lonely.”

Tears sting the corners of your eyes. Your face starts to do that little involuntary frown that happens right before you cry. “I am stupid.” You shake your head, wanting the tears to go away but they don’t. Your eyes fill up and start to spill over with tears, and you let out a shaky sob.

Shawn steps closer and wraps his arms around you. He holds you tight and pets your hair down with one hand. “Maybe we can go for a walk and clear your mind, it’s stopped raining,” he says and you nod against his chest. “Should we tell your parents you’re leaving?”

“Yeah. I’ll tell my mom I’m going out for a bit,” you move away from Shawn and immediately miss his warmth. You go through your bedroom door and yell up the basement stairs that you’re leaving for a bit and you’ll be back in a while. Your mom says something about making beef stew for dinner and that she expects you to eat tonight. You agree and head back to your bedroom.

Shawn’s smiling when you open the door. “Beef stew huh?”

You can’t help but smile a little because his smile so radiant and warming. “Yes, beef stew. No, you’re not staying for dinner.”

Shawn groans teasingly and grabs your jacket off of your bed. You take it from him and put it on, zipping it all the way up and pulling the drawstrings on the hood to keep the heat in. “Let’s go.”

The two of you make your way through the woods a little ways from your house. The rain made it chillier than it had been outside. You walk in silence for a while, just enjoying each others company. Shawn bumps his hand against yours where you have it pulled into the sleeve and you glance down to see if it was an accident. He does it again and you smile a little because you can’t believe he was trying to be sly.

“You wanna hold my hand?” you ask and smirk up at him.

He laughs and rolls his eyes. “If I do?”

You contemplate it for a moment. Would you be comfortable holding hands? Would that lead him on? You didn’t want to do anything to do that, you didn’t want him to think you were already feeling the same. Because you weren’t. Well, maybe a little. It was very muddled in your head. In the end you decide to take his hand. You slide your hand out of the sleeve and he threads his fingers between yours.

“So, when did you and Liam meet?” Shawn asks after a few minutes of walking hand in hand.

“Nine months ago. He approached me at a the Yankee Candle at the Kingsburg mall. Said I was cute, liked my hair, it was curly that day.” You swallow thickly, remembering how Liam hadn’t always been neglectful of your feelings, but quickly remind yourself it was all for sex in the end.

“I like your hair when it’s curly,” Shawn says with a smile. “It’s so wild.”

“Thanks, it’s actually naturally curly. I just don’t like it sometimes, too messy.”

Shawn tugs your hood back and runs his hand through your hair. “Messier the better with curls.”

“Shawn...” you look up at him, surprised at his bold move, and he pulls his hand away.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I forget sometimes, I’m more into you than you are into me.”

You smile at him and shake your head, “It’s not that I’m not into you. It just surprised me.”

The woods ahead are thick, darker than where you were. You pull Shawn to the left, down a path toward the area where the woods connected to the Oak Grove estate, Shawn’s home. “So, how does it feel? Like for you?”

Shawn hums, “How’s what feel?”

“Being mated. What does that feel like?”

Shawn flushes a little bit. He clears his throat and says, “Ah, well, it’s complicated. It feels like I’m always burning up when I’m around you. Like, there’s something inside me that’s fighting to get out when you’re near.”

You raise your eyebrows and let out a half laugh, “That doesn’t sound very good.”

“No, no it is!” Shawn laughs and swings your joined hands. “It feels like...like I’m so happy I could explode. It feels like on Christmas when you know what’s in that one special wrapped box and you know it’s the one thing you wanted so bad and you’re actually getting it.”

“That’s crazy, there’s no way that’s the same feeling,” you laugh and smile up at him and he stops to step in front of you and grab your other hand. It feels strange, being so comfortable with him like this when only an hour or two ago you were crying because of Liam. “Shawn..what’re you doing?”

“I wish you could feel it. I wish you could feel how I’m burning up and my body is humming and I can’t see anything but you right now.”

“Shawn...” you say quietly, staring up at him, letting the rest of your thought trail off. You’re not moving, not pulling your hands away and neither is he. You don’t want to move and inch in fear it’ll ruin the moment. It feels so right, standing here hand in hand with him.

He’s looking at you, eyes searching yours for any sign of how you feel. He’s trying to transfer the feeling he’s described to you, you just know it. You can feel his hands getting hotter in yours and you look down, breaking eye contact for just a second. “You feel it?” he asks, voice hopeful and you nod a little.

“I feel your hands burning up,” you look up at him once more and his eyes are golden and so pretty. Last time you saw them like this, you had challenged him out of spite in Myra’s hallway.

Shawn leans in and your heart races. You think he’s going to kiss you and you aren’t sure you’re really in a position to be doing that quite yet. He leans his forehead against yours and his eyes are closed. You close yours too and the two of you stand there quietly while the wind rustles the freshly fallen leaves around you.

“Shawn?” someone calls out from behind you. You open your eyes at the same time Shawn does. He looks up and past you to see who was calling for him as you turn around to see who it was.

A tall girl with long brown hair comes walking toward you. She’s dressed in a very fashionable dark vest and pants with with tall boots on. She looks like one of those girls off the cover of a Fall fashion catalogue. As she approaches you realize who she is. It’s Taylor Velacruz, you knew her from school, the two of you were in a lot of the same classes. “Shawn! Oh, sorry I didn’t realize I was interrupting you and your....” she trails off as she looks you over.

“Mate,” Shawn says firmly as he puts his arm around your middle. You swallow thickly, aware of how protective Shawn was being. You decide to keep quiet and wait until she addressed you.

“Oh! I didn’t know it’d been announced. I’d thought I would have caught wind of it, since our families are pretty close and all.”

“We’re keeping it quiet for now.” Shawn seems different. Cold, guarded, arm tight against you. “A mutual decision.”

Taylor makes an ohh face and nods, with a sickening sweet smile, “Cuz she’s a human right?”

You frown and start to say something about how Taylor should mind her own business but Shawn cuts you off. “You should keep going, now, Taylor.”

“Bossy bossy alpha,” Taylor singsongs as she starts walking past the two of you. “Wish you were that bossy when we were together, makes me feel all warm inside.” She winks and turns away to go about her business.

Your cheeks get hot and you feel...angry? Jealous? Shawn was your mate and she needed to back off with that shit. You watch her until she’s out if sight behind some trees. “What’s her problem?”

“You’re her problem. We used to date, she thought for sure I was her mate. Turns out she was just obsessed with me,” Shawn releases his hold on your middle and takes your hand, leading you back the way you came. “She thinks because our families are close she had some advantage to being my mate. She wants an alpha so bad it’s depressing.”

“She can’t have you,” you say quietly and Shawn stares at you curiously while you walk.

“Oh?” He asks coyly.

“Shut up...”

“Alright,” Shawn says, smiling big. The two of you walk back to your house in comfortable silence, the events that just unfolded, the feelings you were having, all of it swimming around in your head.

#Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes fic #mated #werewolf shawn #my fic

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