#TTPD is the aftermath of it

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

I think I was so annoyed with her being vague in folklore through midnights that I was immediately gagged by TTPD because she had the balls to be unhinged, and funny, brutally honest. Which I think the three albums before it were missing one of those 3 things. It felt like I got back a piece of the old Taylor.

Anon, I really hesitated answering this, because while I don’t think you meant it that way, it comes across as a little unfair to her writing when I read it. I don’t want to put you on the spot, but I just wanted to give my reasoning (on my blog) before ending the topic.

I don’t think she’s being vague necessarily in folklore, evermore or midnights, it’s just that they’re written in different styles. Given how much word vomit I’ve spewed in the last year on this blog, I think they’re actually quite easy to digest, it’s just the vehicle driving them looks a little different. Just like I find the stories in TTPD quite clear, they’re just presented differently.

They’re all honest in their own ways, they just use different kinds of language to get there. And she was also at different levels of processing events in each of those chapters, too. As her understanding shifted, so too did the ways in which she told the stories. I don’t think it’s a question of honesty so much as time and distance from the situations in which she wrote about them. She was in different places in her life in writing them all, and the rage she felt in the moment writing TTPD is reflected in a lot of it, just as the sorrow is in midnights or the uncertainty in folklore and evermore.

Also, at the end of the day, it’s her art, and she doesn’t owe anyone full honesty about anything in her life. She can make up or obfuscate whatever she wants, as long as she can tell a story. That’s just my two cents.

[holdingonforheaven]

everyone saying this album is mostly about matty is insane. like did you even listen to it?

[goldsainz]

❝ SO LONG, MONACO ❞

MASTERLIST!

pairing . . . charles leclerc x reader

◦∘｡ﾟ. warnings . . . use of y/n (once, i think), cursing, a whole load of angst, charles is an asshole, rushed ending, barely proofread.

◦∘｡ﾟ. summary . . . you love monaco, but it has run its course just like your relationship has.

◦∘｡ﾟ. note . . . i am obsessed with ttpd, i don’t care what anyone has to say, it was a masterpiece and i will not take criticism about it. this is based on so long, london i really recommend listening to this while reading, or just listening to it in general if you need a good cry. i have been writing this for months now, so i hope you guys like it and please dont mind the ending it was the best i could do 😔💙

[ word count: 3,4k ]

You walked through the streets of Monaco, mystified by how bright the city looked even in the night. The street lights were enchanting to witness, and the chatter of people made you appreciate the small country even more. So private, yet so lively, like a hidden spot you had loved so much you just had to make it your home. 

The walk to Charles’ apartment is more calming than expected, you’ve come to terms with the fact that you’ve been pulling at a thread that is almost undone. No matter how hard you tried, there was no use in pulling him tighter when he had already pulled out of the relationship.

You were, in all honesty, tired. 

You swore your back almost hurt from all the efforts you made to keep him with you. It’s like you both had settled for conformity, for the monotony of not bothering to do anything. You were together for the sole sake of how harder it would be to separate, but not because of the love you had for the other, simply because of the aftermath of breaking up after 6 years of relationship. Moving out, telling your friends and family, the whole world scrutinizing what went down when really nothing had gone down. There was nothing that could go down, to begin with. 

Your relationship had become more of a commodity, one that was draining you while your boyfriend continued his life like nothing was going on. Maybe that was your problem, you simply cared too much. 

And so you stopped trying to make him laugh. Stopped making those small efforts that had amounted to hundreds of gestures that went unnoticed by him. Maybe you were selfish for that, for wanting his undivided attention to things that weren’t that great. After all, he had his own things to wallow over, things that were simply greater than you.

You tried to blame Ferrari. Ferrari that always was the topic of conversation. “Can you believe they made pit so late?” Yes, I can. “Do you think I’m putting to much faith in the team?” Yes, you are. You don’t tell Charles all the things you should, you share his sadness and give him a shoulder to cry on, just to receive that small amount of affection. 

His sadness gives you the taste of what once was and now isn’t. You can’t find in yourself to blame him for becoming dependent on Ferrari, because haven’t you become the same way for him?

It isn’t long before your walk is over, and you have to face the moment you want to dread, but instead there is relief that surges in your heart. A feeling you resent but equally embrace. 

You step into the elevator, pressing the button for his apartment that you wonder when you decided to let everything go on for as long as it did. That is something you incriminate Charles for. Did he really think you’d be willing to stand in the rain for him forever? Eternally condemned to wallow his sadness, were you supposed to be sad for as long as he was? And for a while you did, you shared his sadness but you didn’t have much more in you to give him. There was only so much pity you could feel, so much empathy you were willing to subject yourself to. 

The elevator rings, a sign that you should get off and take whatever is yours and get away from Monaco.

You put the key in the keyhole, and enter what once was your home and now looks almost like a staged apartment, ready to be shown off and sold to the highest bidder. It feels eerie, what once was so familiar is now a distant memory you’re ready to get over.

Most of the boxes are all closed and ready to be sent away, with a few things left in shelves and drawers. You remember calling your family and asking if you could stay with them a few days, you felt ashamed at how you left everything behind just to come back to it so unexpectedly. 

“Chérie, you don’t have to leave. I can stay with Joris until you find your own place.” no more ma chérie, just chérie. It seemed you’d both unconsciously already made the graves for your relationship. 

“This is your place, Charles. I’m not going to kick you out of it.” you smoothly respond, trying to focus on taking whatever is left on the shelf by the TV. 

Your hand brushes against an old photo of the two of you. His hands around your waist, you looking up at him with a huge smile on your face, with Monaco as the landscape behind you. 

“This was our place, I don’t even—” he stops himself, like it pains him to say whatever is on his mind, resigned he sighs and changes his answer, “I might have to sell this, it’s too big for just me anyway.” 

The implication of his words would have sent you down a spiral a few months ago, now you don’t even reminisce on the what-if.

“Either way, I’ve already arranged a place to stay. I really don’t want to inconvenience you, this is your home not mine.” you say, and you watch as his jaw clenches and his eyes dim, but it is too late now to go back. You’re both too far gone. 

“Okay, then.” he sighs, and although you’ve made peace with the end of your relationship you want him to fight for you. It is his nonchalant way of going about life that makes you mad, and what sealed the fate of whatever remains of your relationship were left.

You’ve fought so hard and for so long, you want to make him feel what you felt. Retribution comes to you in his resignation, and yet it is simply not enough for your greedy, broken heart.

It pisses you off how so much of your youth he got to witness, how he got all the special moments of your life and now you cannot even recognise the girl you once were. All those dreams, all that naïveté, has long since died and is now buried in Monaco.

“It’s late and I’m really tired, so tomorrow morning I’ll have them pick up and ship off my things.” 

“Where are you staying?” he tries to be casual, tries to hide the desperation in his voice, but fails to do so because you know him too well. He fears you know him better than anyone ever has. 

“A hotel nearby,” you easily answer, 

Don’t let me go.

A beat passes, he opens his mouth and closes it shortly after, like he’s not sure what to say or how to act.

Please, don’t let me go. 

“Do you need me to take you there?”

“No, I’m okay, it’s a short walk from here.”

And so you put away the few things you were holding, brushing past him like he’s a stranger in the street. You’ve seemingly packed up your whole life in a few boxes, and you feel oddly calm about it. Hopeful about the future, all resentment you could have has turned into motivation. 

You seal the last open box, and it’s like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. There are no scores to settle, no need for revenge, this chapter of your life has been sealed and you are ready to continue with whatever the story of your life has prepared for you.

“Text me when you get to the hotel, yes?” you pause at his words, and a part of you wants to curse him out for being the way he is, because despite everything he is a kind man. You just wish he could've been as kind to the old you as he is to the current you. And you wonder why you're given all this kindness, when you have both your feet out the door and every single remainder of your love has been tucked away. It is not fair, but nothing really is when it comes to love.

“Sure,” you say as you nod, a small smile gracing your face, though you're sure it looks close to a grimace. 

You walk out of the apartment, leaving your copy of the keys on the table next to the door. As it closes, you let out a sigh and go out the same you came in, calm and collected. With the broken, bloody pieces of your heart in his hands and you with the same blue heart of his you know so well.

You don’t text Charles when you make it to the hotel. 

You twist and turn in your bedsheets, not being able to sleep once again. You can't remember the last time you had a good night's sleep. And so you do what you've been doing for months, you go over every step and stone of your relationship.

Although sleep doesn’t consume you, the memories do. Those unforgiving, wretched memories about the downfall of your relationship. As you lie awake, the weight of your thoughts presses down on you, each recollection sharper and more painful than the last. 

You reminisce on the brighter days, filled with laughter and pure love, where every touch was like electricity on your skin and every word a promise of a future together. You recall all those moments you fought to make him laugh, to bring back the warmth that had once been effortless. But those bright memories are quickly overshadowed by the darker ones— the fights that grew more frequent, the silences that stretched longer, the love that slowly turned to resentment. 

Every detail is vivid in your mind— he look in his eyes as he drifted away, the chill that settled in your bones each night he didn't fall asleep beside you. You replay the conversations, the accusations, the desperate attempts to salvage whatever was left. But despite your efforts, the spirit of the relationship was long gone, leaving behind a shell of what once was.

As the memories flood back, you feel the anger and sadness welling up inside you. You gave so much of yourself, your youth, your energy, only to be left with the empty shell of a broken dream. You think about how he swore that he loved you, yet the proof was never there. 

You recall that last fight, by then the stitches of your relationship had come undone, the fabric of your shared experience torn beyond repair. There was nothing left to cling onto, nothing more than your delusion and the memories you held close to your heart. 

“Mon amour, why did you stay awake? You know how long I take at the factory.” he whispers, almost cooing at you but also filled with exhaustion. Like you being awake is another burden you're placing on him, now that he has to deal with your awakened mind. 

“Couldn’t fall asleep, I guess.” you answer, playing with the ends of your hair, not daring to look at him. 

You watch as he places his stuff on the ground, taking off his shirt and entering the bathroom to wash his face and prepare for sleep. It is quite a shame you have no intentions of sleeping, or to let the misery you're living through go on.

“I’ll join you in just a moment,” he calls out from the bathroom, his voice muffled from the ajar door between you.

“Okay,” is all you come up with, all you can muster to respond.

The silence in the apartment grew heavy. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to echo through the room, each second stretching out into eternity. 

As you listened to the sound of water running, you traced patterns on the bedsheets with trembling hands. You couldn’t shake the feeling of suffocation, of being trapped in a life that wasn’t quite yours. The dreams you once nurtured seemed distant, obscured by the everyday struggles and compromises.

When Charles emerged from the bathroom, the lines of fatigue etched deeper into his face. His eyes met yours briefly before he turned away, pulling a worn t-shirt and slipping under the covers beside her. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, yet you could see the coldness that he seemed to reserve especially for you. He made no effort to kiss you, to hold you, those miniscule actions were like finding gold nowadays.

It was now or never, you had decided. You had gained courage all day to finally speak your mind, the least he could do is listen and try to fight for you. For the remains of your love that hadn’t yet dusted away.

“You know,” you begin tentatively, your voice almost shaky with emotion, “it feels like we’re drifting apart. I miss us, Charles.”

He turned to you sharply, eyes flashing with something like shock and annoyance. “I’m tired, Y/N. Can’t we talk about this tomorrow?”

“But we never talk about it!” you exclaimed, frustration boiling over. “Every day, it’s the same thing. You come home late, exhausted, and we pretend everything’s okay. But it's not okay! It hasn’t been for a long time, and I need more than this.”

He sighs heavily, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. “I’m doing the best I can.”

“Sure you are,” you retort back, voice tinged with bitterness. You knew he would dismiss your feelings, but it still stung.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m always second, Charles.” you retort, “I stay awake each night wondering if you still care, if there is even some part of you that misses me like I miss you.”

“You always find something to complain about, don’t you?” he turns to you with his eyes narrowed, “You know how much I’m dealing with Ferrari, I thought you’d have some empathy for me, at least.”

“I’m not complaining, Charles. I’m trying to talk to you!” your frustration has now reached its peak, “I miss us. I miss the days when we actually talked, when you actually listened.”

“I’m exhausted,” he says, ignoring your words once more. “Do you think this lifestyle pays for itself? Because, news flash, it doesn’t. You signed up for this, don’t put this on me now.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” you ask, resigned to your situation and the emotions that have overtaken you, “You're never here, Charles. I feel like I’m living with a stranger instead of the man I fell in love with.”

“Well, maybe if you didn't make everything so difficult,” he snapped, his patience wearing thin. He doesn't dare to look at you, he can't bear to see the expression on your face.

You feel tears stinging in your eyes, a mix of anger and hurt washing over you. “I’m not making things difficult. I’m asking for us to work on our relationship, to make time for each other.”

“I don’t have time,” Charles shot back, his voice cold and distant. “This is the life we have now. Deal with it.”

“Is this really what you want?” you demand, your voice rising. “A relationship where we just coexist, where we’re barely holding on?”

He turns away from you again, his silence cuts deeper than any words ever could. You feel the despair, the realizations sinking in that your relationship might be beyond repair.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper, voice cracking with emotion.

“Then what do you expect me to do?” he retorted, his frustration matching yours.

“I expect you to fight for us, Charles!” you exclaimed, a tear slipping down your cheek. “I expect you to care enough to try.”

He doesn’t respond, the silence a stark reminder of how far you had both drifted apart. You wiped your tears away, feeling the weight of your crumbling relationship pressing down on your chest.

“If you can’t even talk to me, then maybe we’re already done.” you say quietly, the finality of your words hanging in the air.

He doesn’t protest, doesn’t reach out to you. You turned away from him, curling up on your side of the bed, feeling the emptiness of your once vibrant love surrounding you. As you stared into the darkness, you wondered if you had reached the end, if this was all the closure you would get.

As you laid there, enveloped in the silence that now seemed thicker than ever, you realised that something inside you had shifted irreversibly. The pain of his indifference cut deep, but so did the clarity that you couldn’t continue living forever like this, forever under the blue of his days.

The weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air, you couldn’t bear it any longer. With a shaky breath, you gathered your resolve and spoke softly into the darkness, voice trembling with both sadness and determination.

“I think… I need some time,” you began, your words tentative yet resolute. “Time to figure out what I want and what’s best for me.”

He turned to you then, his eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and resignation. “What are you saying?”

You struggled to find the right words. “I’m saying… I’m saying that I’m done, Charles. I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay when it’s not. I deserve more than this.” 

His expression hardened, a flicker of frustrations crossing his face. “So that’s it? You’re just giving up?”

“I’m not giving up,” you shot back, “I’ve been fighting for us for so long, but you… you're not even here, I can’t keep begging for your attention, for your love.”

Charles doesn't respond immediately, his silence echoing loudly in the room. You felt a wave of sorrow wash over you as you realized that your love had turned into a battlefield of neglect and misunderstanding.

“I thought we could fix this,” he finally murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe we could have,” your heart breaks with every word you utter. “But it’s too late now, I’m exhausted, Charles. I’m exhausted from trying to pretend like you care and for trying to fix something beyond repair.”

He sits up at your words, finally looking at you, the weight of your failed relationship heavy in his eyes. “I’m sorry, mon ange. I never meant for it to end like this.”

“Neither did I,” you replied softly, “But I can’t keep living like this. I deserve happiness. We both do.” he reached out to touch your hand, but you gently pulled away, the gesture feeling hollow now.

You sat there in silence, you knew that walking away would be the hardest thing you had ever done, but you also knew it was the only way forward.

Without another word, you stood up from the bed. Looking at him, the man you loved with all your heart but who had drifted away from you.

“I’m sleeping on the couch,” you tell Charles, and he doesn’t fight you, just wordlessly nods and longingly looks at you as you step away and into your living room.

You stood at the window of the hotel room, staring out at the city that had been your home for so long. The cobblestone streets, the azure waters, and the gentle hum of luxury. This place, once your sanctuary, now felt like a prison of memories that had soured with time. A reminder of a love that couldn't withstand the weight of reality.

Outside, the familiar sights and sounds of Monaco stirred memories that tugged at your heart— lazy afternoons by the beach, candlelit dinners overlooking the harbour, stolen kisses beneath the starlit sky.

But today, as the plane ticket lay on the table beside your suitcase, you knew it was time to leave Monaco behind. Despite the love you once felt for this place, you couldn’t ignore the ache in your chest, the realisation that your time here had run its course.

As you walked out of the hotel and down the winding cobblestone streets towards the waiting car you had called, you allowed a tear to trickle down your cheek because despite everything you really fucking loved Monaco. For so, so long.

But you’ll find somewhere new.

[seeingivy]

I think the ttpd requests thing is so cute I love that album!!! could I request i can fix him x toji fushiguro or i loved you the way that you were x satoru gojo (THE ANGST)? ilysm

i loved you the way that you were x satoru gojo

**part of my tortured poets concert event

--

“what did he do today?” 

at the sound of megumi’s voice, coupled with his footsteps getting menacingly louder as he tracks down the hall, you immediately slam the tattered cardboard box shut, haphazardly leaning over it in some misguided attempt to prevent him from seeing the insides. 

it partially does the job. true to your attempt, you covering the box with the weight of your body prevents him from seeing the contents. but the sight of you leaning over the counter, hands outstretched in a position so unnatural, doesn’t do the job of preventing him from asking again. or even raising the question as to why you were being so secretive in the first place. 

“what’s in the box?” megumi asks. 

“your birthday present.” you state. 

megumi narrows his eyes at you. 

“my birthday isn’t for another two months.” 

“never hurts to start getting gifts early! especially since december can be busy with the holidays and all.” you murmur. 

megumi narrows his eyes at you, his signal to you that he won’t necessarily drop his question, that instead he’ll be more adamant on the fact that he deserves the answer, as you retreat your hold on the box. 

“did you want to eat breakfast?” you ask. 

“sure. then, we can talk about what’s in there. and whatever tantrum gojo sensei threw this morning.” 

you glare at him. 

“it’s not a tantrum. he’s just…having a difficult time adjusting. it’s hard.” you insist. 

megumi rolls his eyes. 

“well, we’ve all had a difficult time. it’s not just him.” he mutters, the tone in his voice searingly angry. 

there’s natural symptoms that you can expect from the ordeal – of satoru being put back together, inches from death, of megumi having his body used as a puppet – that you anticipate. the ones that you can expect are easy to handle, because you know what they are. could anticipate before hand what they would be.

shock.

numbness. 

a loss of regular life. 

megumi doesn’t say anything for two weeks. sometimes it takes a good effort to get satoru to shower. the two of them are no longer particularly fond of eating. 

what you don’t expect is the disability. because in the aftermath of the loss, shoko can only put so much of satoru back together. and while mostly everything is intact – his limbs, his legs, his heart – the six eyes and the limitless technique don’t return. and in ways you can’t understand, it takes too harsh of a toll. 

he can barely walk straight, slamming into doors or hitting the side edge of the coffee table because he insists he couldn’t sense it spatially, whatever that meant. the loss of limitless means that most of the times, standing still feels like he’s drowning, not being able to manipulate the space around him leaves him debilitated to the point where you sometimes find him cowering in a corner.

rambling over and over again about how he’s unprotected, far too exposed out in the open. 

shoko can’t fix the six eyes or the limitless. and as long as you’re all concerned, they won’t ever return. 

and neither will the satoru gojo that you knew and loved.

his frustrations drive him to be angry, withdrawn, and closed off every time you see him. unable to even ask for help.

and the byproduct of it all is just as shocking. because satoru gojo’s newfound flagrance for life is something that drives megumi fushiguro insane. 

“satoru threw away his entire sunglasses collection this morning.” you state. 

megumi frowns. 

“isn’t it worth like…thousands of dollars?” he asks. 

you shrug. 

“he’s just insisting that he has no need for them anymore, so what’s the point of keeping them around where they’re just taking up space?” 

megumi sucks in his teeth. 

“i see. so why’d you go dig them out of the trash? you should have saved yourself the trouble than typing to help him when he’s intent on…on acting so pathetic.” he asks. 

“i didn’t dig them out of the trash.” you retort. 

megumi narrows his eyes at you. 

“the box smells. you kind of do too. and i could hear you from my window this morning rustling with the bins, it woke me up.” he states. 

you frown, before opening up the box, and reaching in for the set of sunglasses right at the top. they’re simple frames, silver on the sides, dark black shades, but now there’s a deep crack in the lens on the right. you’re afraid if you push it too hard, it’ll shatter into tiny pieces. but you throw away the thought, extending them out to megumi.

“do you remember these?” you ask. 

megumi takes the frames, holding them up to the light, as he inspects them. he gives you a halfhearted shake. 

“satoru wore these at our wedding. and every anniversary after, he’s…worn them to the dinner that we have together. makes some dumb joke about how he’s seeing me for the first time all over again.” 

megumi gives a nod, before gently placing the frames back in the palm of your hand. he lets his hand linger in yours for a little too long, something that you’ve come to understand is his way of comforting you in the aftermath, as you give him a nod in response. 

“he’ll be mad if you keep them. might even yell at you.” he murmurs. 

“well, i’ll cross that bridge when i get there.” 

--

you cross that bridge four days later. there’s only so many places to hide things in the apartment. your original thought – that hiding them in the kitchen because satoru can’t cook – doesn’t fare well when he decides to come poking for scissors. 

“y/n.” 

“hm?” 

satoru’s suddenly materialized at your side, enough for you to abandon the pie crust you’re failing to mold, with his eyes narrowed at you. 

“what are these?” he asks. 

he holds up the sunglasses in the space between the two of you as you feel the embarrassed warmth run to your cheeks, and slightly take a step back. 

“your sunglasses.” you murmur. 

“i can see that. my question is what are they still doing here?” he seethes. 

you shrug. 

“i just thought you might want to keep them. i was holding on to them for you.” 

satoru glares at you. 

“you know, when i make the effort of walking all the way out to throw something in the dumpster, i’m fairly certain i don’t want them anymore. they were where they belonged.” 

“i know, i know, i just thought…” 

satoru heaves an exasperated sigh. 

“thought what? that i’d need to use them again? i won’t fucking need to, because i can see just fine without them.” 

you bite down on your lip. and he makes no signs of relenting. 

“okay, but..” 

“what part of this is so hard for you to understand? i don’t need your fucking help or for you to hold on to shit for me because you think i’ll regret it later. i won’t. i’m just fine without you trying to walk around, waiting hand and foot on me, because you think i’m defective.” 

you frown, reaching forward to cup the side of his face. the mere gesture makes him flinch, enough for him to put distance between the two of you this time, and it makes your heart sink immeasurably. 

“i don’t think you’re defective. you’re still the same and i…i’m just trying to be there for you in whatever way i can.” 

“then why do you look at me like that?” he whispers. 

“like what?” 

“everytime, i walk into a wall by accident or brush against the table, you wince. you wince because i can’t find my fucking bearings with every stupid thing you’ve put in this apartment, and it drives me fucking insane because i don’t even want to look at you anymore. i understand it’s difficult, that you loved me the way that i was, but i’m just not the fucking same and i can’t do anything about it. you don’t have to make me these dumbass pies or cakes or whatever the fuck you’re trying to do everyday to celebrate my progress or whatever. i don’t care for any of it, so just give it a rest.” 

you frown, dropping your hands to your side, as you dust away the last of the spare flour that’s melded into your hands. you can tell that he’s watching you, maybe a little too keenly, as you untie the apron around your neck and set it on the counter. 

“you’re right, you know.” you mumble. 

“what?” 

“i loved you the way that you were.” 

satoru frowns. 

“the person i loved never raised his voice at me like that.” you whisper. 

you reach forward, for the sunglasses discarded on the counter, and look down at the crack. it’s gotten noticeably bigger, probably from how satoru was shaking it around in the air a few seconds prior, before you look back up at him. 

“the person i loved dragged these sunglasses out of his collection because they’re the exact ones he was wearing when i married him. he’d put them on and tell me that he was seeing me again for the first time, even though that wasn’t really true. and deep down, he probably knew that i thought it was a little cheesy, stupid even, but did it anyway because it made me laugh.” 

you shake your head. 

“he’d never throw these away. i’m sorry that i’m not…not as broken up that you’ve lost your six eyes or your limitless and i don’t know how to help you. i’m sorry i want to bake things and celebrate or whatever…but i almost lost you. i watched shoko sew you back together for hours, sat there for days when you didn’t wake up, and i was…just thankful that i got to see you again. in whatever state that you were. i’m sorry that it’s something that i thought warranted celebration, that the mere fact that you have the opportunity to struggle instead of be…be six feet under the ground…is something that i delight in.” 

you sigh, before setting them back down on the counter, the warm tears bubbling in your eyes. 

“but, please. by all means, throw them away. suppose they mean nothing to you when they’re not attached to the six eyes, anyways.” 

and on that note, you turn on your heel and leave. 

--

when you return home after three hours, there’s an almost pungent smell in the kitchen, so strong that it makes your nose water. you’re almost positive that in your absence the two of them made some horrible attempt at fixing themselves food, and you make a mental note to rectify their mess later. 

you make your way over to the balcony doors to clear the air, except for the fact that the sliding door is already open, that satoru’s sitting criss crossed on the floor with megumi at his side, looking at the view of the city below. 

you lightly wrap your knuckles against the door, the two of them turning their heads ever so slightly, as you lightly step out into the cold air. you crouch down, placing a hand on megumi’s shoulder and squeezing hard. 

“mind if i talk to gojo alone?” you ask. 

he gives you a polite smile, returning your gesture by placing his hand on your shoulder, and giving you a nod. the two of you switch spots, as you criss cross into the warmth megumi’s left behind, and hike your legs to your chest. 

“so, i just wanted to say that…” you start. 

satoru wordlessly slides two boxes in front of you. they’re dark black, a sparkling silver logo embossed into the material, tied together with a white ribbon. you shoot him a glare, before picking up the first box.

it makes you nervous, testing the waters with a joke when they were so tense when you left, but you do it anyways. 

“are you trying to bribe me, satoru gojo?” you ask. 

satoru gives you a smile. you note that it’s been extremely long since you’ve seen one. 

“would that work, princess?” 

“well, i didn’t marry you for your looks, pumpkin.” you joke, reaching forward to pinch his cheeks. 

satoru fakes hurt, dramatically pressing his hand to his chest, as you pull the ribbon off the box. the sunglasses, glistening in perfect shape and sans cracks, are sitting in the box. 

“oh, satoru. you didn’t have to…” 

“yes, i did. they’re my wife glasses.” 

you smile, reaching into the box and pulling the glasses out, and lightly pulling them around satoru’s ears. satoru shakes your hands off, only because you’ve horribly aimed for his ears, and readjusts them before leaning closer. 

“oh my goodness.” he murmurs. 

“what?” you whisper. 

satoru lifts his hands and places them on your cheeks, the touch warm, as he rubs circles into your cheeks. 

“my wife is so pretty.” 

you can’t help but grin, the warmth rushing to your cheeks. 

“is that right?” 

“so so pretty. and kind, and patient, and too good for me to begin with.” he responds. 

you shake your head. 

“not true. you…” 

“very true.” he insists. 

satoru drops his hands, fingers fast as he sets the sunglasses back in the open box, before interlocking his fingers in with yours. he’s looking down at your skin, tracing the callouses left behind on your palms. 

“you know the worst part of losing the six eyes?” he whispers. 

you shake your head. 

“i could feel your cursed energy all the time. and now i can’t.” 

he’s never told you that before. 

“really? was my cursed energy hot?” 

satoru rolls his eyes at you, an unmistakable smile on his face.

“unbelievable.” 

he’s quiet again, fingers outlining one of the red gashes leftover from months prior in your skin. 

“it was comforting. knowing you were around, all the time. that you were moving from the kitchen, or coming up the stairs, or…or sleeping. i’d reach for it sometimes, straining to feel it when you were far away in another classroom or something, whenever someone pissed me off. something to just calm me down.”  

you smile. 

“i’m still around. you might not be able to feel me…that way…but i’m still right here. all the time.” 

satoru winces. 

“kind of embarrassing, isn’t it?” he murmurs. 

“what?” 

“i’m sitting over here, reeling in the fact that i’ve lost…lost what you feel like to me, when you’re the one who actually had to live that.” he whispers. 

you flip his hand over in yours, mimicking his motions by tracing circles into his hand instead. 

“it was no big deal.” you joke. 

satoru narrows his eyes at you. 

“you thought i was dead, didn’t you?” he asks. 

you nod. 

“i didn’t just think it, satoru. you were dead. for a whole three hours, you were…no heartbeat. skin cold. the whole ten miles of…of dead people. i was sitting there thinking about how i was twenty-five years old and already a widow.” you respond. 

satoru sighs. 

“i’m still around too. and…still me in the ways that matter to you. you don’t need to follow me around like you’re worried i’m going to break. hell, i’m surely not as strong as i was before, but i’ve…i will put in efforts to safeguard myself so you won’t have to…cut your losses again.” 

you smile. 

“that would be appreciated, you know that?” 

satoru gives you a wink, before lifting your fingers to press a kiss against your knuckles. 

“it’s a deal, princess.” 

“also…i hope you know i regretted what i said earlier. right after i said it. i’d love you in any iteration. two eyes, six eyes, eleven.” 

satoru smiles, before closing the distance to press three featherlike kisses to your cheek. he retreats to slide the second box over to you, the one you left unopened, and places it in the palm of your hands. you slide the ribbon off just the same, pulling off the lid, to find what might possibly be the most unflattering glasses you’ve ever seen. 

bright green, hexagon shaped, and comically small. 

“well, that’s a choice.” you mumble. 

“if your memory’s failing you, these are the sunglasses you picked out for me on our third or fourth date. pretty sure you were half joking, but…but it felt right to buy them now. rebuild my collection.” 

“how much were they?” 

satoru pinches his lips together in a line. 

“well, i’d prefer to save myself from another lecture today, if that’s okay with you. ask me again tomorrow, princess.”

--

taglist: @7haze

[12triceratops]

Where the rubber meets the road.

These two didn't just have a relationship, they had a (soul)utionship. "The Prophecy" Hand on the throttle Thought I caught lightning in a bottle...

What these two had was magical. There is no debate that Karlie Kloss and Taylor Swift were electric: (I am using past tense for the moment, I will refer to them in present tense a bit later in the post)

Fast forward a decade later to Fortnight. This record did not hit me immediately the way "Folklore" and "Evermore" did, It has almost been a week since its release and I hadn't been fully onboard with TTPD. I was expecting something different, something not familiar and I had quite literally thought maybe Jack Antinoff and Taylor Swift had reached their limit together as collaborators. The music produced by Aaron Dressner had flavors and connections to "Folklore" and "Evermore," while parts of the album was reminiscent of "1989." My next thought that maybe the three of them had done all they could do.

And then the Matty Healy conversation exploded across the net (le sigh), and I just about gave up on the record.

I damn near had a sanguinary struggle within myself over The Tortured Poets Department (I know, that is very dramatic lol), and then I finally got it. The brilliance of this woman is unmatched.

The last song "The Manuscript." Now and then she rereads the manuscript Of the entire torrid affair

"The entire torrid affair" meaning the last decade (probably longer, but I am sticking with 2014-2024). The title isn't lost on me and many others - The Man-U-Script.

The last segment of the song

The only thing that's left is the manuscript One last souvenir from my trip to your shores Now and then I reread the manuscript But the story isn't mine anymore

She is closing the chapter on all of it. It's over, the countless theories, the stories we all have created about her. They're our stories now, we built them into a formidable, monstrous entity that took on a life of its own. "The last souvenir" are her words to us on this album. From the Swifities, to the Gaylors/Kaylors, to the haters, critics, industry, fans, media. She won't play this game anymore. Taylor gave enough clues on this album to make EVERYONE'S theory plausible (Karlie, Joe, Matty, Travis, Harry, Kim etc). She connected threads to come full circle, which brings us back to "1989," that 1980s syth-pop (hello! "I Can Do It With A Broken Heart"). This is why she and Jack Antonoff brought us back to where it all began, Karlie Kloss and #Kissgate (Dianna Agron, too, who can forget "Wonderland). Aaron Dressner summons moments within this records of the two albums that fractured my soul, F & E. That folky-pop melody that gets into your skin to change the DNA. No joke, I sobbed listening to "Folklore" and "Evermore."

With TTPD, Taylor comes in like a thrashing, tumultuous storm; at times seething and others admonishing. She is singing to herself, for herself and without need of approval from the mainstream radio (or anyone else). TTPD is messy, too much, not enough, vulnerable, real, relatable and she is tired of our collective shit.

Back to "The Manuscript" This Era has come to an end and she is leaving us with the ruins, the aftermath of what she went through: being forced to hide who she really is, having to placate the rabid fans who believe the stories of every boy she has ever dated. She has had zero privacy and the only safe place Taylor has ever had was her music, she is the ONLY one who knows to whom she sings. Does she love her fans, of course, but Mother is tired and done. She is ready to come clean and live the life she has crafted to keep in secret in order to protect the innocent.

The beards, NDAs, slight of hand, she is smashing all that we know. It's not her reflection she seeks to shatter, it's the illusions. In "Fortnight" the nurse, a woman (cannot convince me that it's not Karlie. A doorframe is 6'8" and that nurse is about 5" shorter that frame, which would make that person 6'3" :), comes to save her, gives her the key to set her free. The men in the video are the ones who are torturing her. Like the last 10 years, The poet has been tortured by the department of men: Joe, John, Conner, Jake, Harry, Calvin, Tom, Joe, Matty, Travis, Scooter, Scott, and the list goes on.

It's "Robin" that has got a choke-hold on me.

Buried down deep And out of your reach The secret we all vowed To keep it from you in sweetness

She is singing to a child, a kid, and I am going to say a little boy. Is this song about Levi? I am going to say yes. Hands down the gem of the album, and our cue to realize she is telling us what is next, her family, the loves of her life: Karlie and the kids. That is what she wants and that will be her next chapter. We struggle to interpret the Taylor that is always ten steps ahead of us. Her Eras Tour, this will be the last one for a while. Once it has wrapped, I wouldn't be surprised if she disappeared for a spell. Will she produce more work, sure. Perform, probably, but this last decade has taken a toll, and this tour has been a herculean effort. Hence, its wild success. Could she retire (FLORIDA)? It's possible, but she would never tell us, we would have to figure that out for ourselves.

I have more to say, but it's late and I am sleepy. As I get lost in the piano of "The Manuscript" I am reminded of the book "The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo"

Not sure if anyone is going to see or read this, but I needed a place to write my thoughts about this extraordinary album that I almost let slip through my fingers. Good night and sleep well everyone <3

[lalunanymph]

maybe ‘the black dog’ and ran haitani???? ilysm🥰🥰

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐃𝐎𝐆 [*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dawn.🕹️ ttpd]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ he was never there for you when you needed him the most

Rain pelts down the tall windows, the city lights flickering intermittently through the wet hollow glow of tears shed in a darkened living room.

His name blinks from your phone, teasing you—how he was so near yet so far. 

You stare at the slowly flickering red dot, committing the name of the bar he has just walked into, wondering if it was smokey and stale or frigid with shot glasses lining a greasy counter.

No one could say that Ran Haitani was an easy man to love.

Suave lies, a smooth voice, and a handsome face that could sway a stone to give up her secrets.

They spelled trouble, and your eventual undoing.

You wonder what song they would be playing—if she recognizes the city pop hit that plays over the speakers. The one you both danced along to the very first night you stayed over in his apartment. 

Some time a few months later after your relationship was official, you heard that same song at a Bonten gala. 

Ran had caught your eye from across the room, and it was a pure shot of electricity that pierced through your heart when he raised his brows; lilac irises going soft, recognizing the melody.

It felt like there was no one else but the two of you in the world, the men and their women melting in the background—dangerous tattoos and hidden gun holsters disappearing in favor of the smudge of lipstick you had left on the corner of his mouth; imperceptible to the naked eye but so obvious to your own. 

Ran had felt entirely yours till recently, when everything you held dear in this relationship turned sour.

How someone could forget you so easily when they had vowed to love you for eternity. 

Without noticing, his dot had exited the pub, snaking its way back down a familiar path. 

It must’ve been hours that you sat on the couch, frozen in time. Waiting for something monumental to happen. But, he never called you back. Never gave you a heads up when you heard the door knob rattle and click.

Silver moonlight spills past his lanky figure, trailing after him like a scolded child.

He smells of alcohol and regrets, the look in his eyes, once warm and inviting, now detached and remorseful.

Unlike that moment suspended in time when you both caught each other’s gaze from across the room through a haze of smoke and shared affection, this time, the connection echoed back through an empty chasm. 

He lowers his eyes, glancing at his shoes.

“You’re still awake.”

You don’t speak, turning your phone off, and for good measure, your location, too.

Ran’s brow furrows when he feels his phone vibrating in his suit’s breast pocket.

The notification will no doubt show up on his screen, a silent retribution for his careless actions you had decided to continue its legacy of.

It’s not like he was the only one capable of breaking a heart.

You stand, reaching for your overnight bag hidden behind the sofa. 

The space between you two is frigid and still, the aftermath of a momentous ship sinking into an iceberg graveyard.

“Where are you going?” 

His voice is low, hoarse. Ran catches your elbow, willing you to turn around and look at him.

Once he notices your red-rimmed eyes, he flinches, dropping his hand. 

“Baby—”

“I’ll come back tomorrow for my other things.” You cringe at how rough you sounded; tired and emotionally numbed.

He knows it's wrong of him to beg, to grovel back for your affection when he had so cruelly discarded it.

But, Ran Haitani was not a proud or good man. He tries to lift your face to the light, getting you to meet his eye again. 

Just one more time for him to plead his case before you give the final verdict.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to storm out like that. She’s just my secretary and not someone important to me. You are. You’re everything to me. I don’t even notice her when you’re in the room. Baby, I can’t live without you, you know that.”

He misunderstands just how stubborn you can be, the facts of his case laid bare and your righteous anger the jury which declared him guilty.

Brushing his hands off your face, you take one step back, clutching your bag tighter to your chest.

In the splinter of a second, you raise your eyes, meeting his gaze head on. 

A collusion of regret and unrequited affection swims in those pretty lilac eyes; it makes you stop, chest aching and breath catching in the back of your thick throat. 

But, you can’t bear to look at him anymore—a person eventually blinded by the intensity of a fiery sun when you once eagerly sought his warmth. 

You lower your eyes, casting the shades of your decision across the determined set of your mouth.

“If you had stayed, maybe I would’ve believed you."

Your voice shook, and you cleared your throat, fighting back the tears. “But, you didn’t, Ran.” 

In a softer voice now, this accusation cuts him the deepest. 

“You didn’t.”

©️ lalunanymph

[youareinlove]

how does The Alchemy and So High School end the game playing and what does that mean for TS12?

these are broader concepts so it's going to be hard to explain (forgive me) but the way she described love previously used to be very game-like, and all about maintaining control and the upper hand at all costs. a prize she'd cheat to win, a card game, a game of chess, etc. it's in her entire discography but especially her love songs from rep-midnights, and it comes to a sad resolution in the bolter where we get a look into how this thing she'd romanticized was actually rooted a lot deeper than she thought and maybe came from some less than romantic places (like "i lived in your chess game but you changed the rules every day" -> "checkmate, i couldn't lose" says something about where she learned certain lessons). imgonnagetyouback also shows us how that need to be the one in control ended up being deeply detrimental to her and her relationship. the control vs. fate (the two things that built her philosophy on love for 10+ years) dichotomy is all over midnights, and ttpd shows us the aftermath of that struggle for control while still clinging onto the idea of fated love.

and then you have the alchemy, which is pointedly missing the fate aspect of things and is much more about doing the work and creating a soft space to land, and it's paired with so high school, a song where the muse is clear and intentional (you knew what you wanted, and boy, you got her) in a way where it could not be further from a game of cards or chess. in fact, the game mentioned in the song isn't a game that involves any kind of deception or competition or even control, but kiss marry kill, which says everything about the tone shift between this song and the rest of ttpd (and even the rest of her discography). as for ts12, her philosophy on love is clearly forever changed and i think that means the way she talks about it on the next record is going to be very different, i think in a good way

[tolerateit]

a major theme in ttpd is the aftermath of "is it insensitive for me to say, 'get your shit together', so i can love you?"

[bullet-prooflove]

heyyy, can i request ts ttpd prompt: "34) and you say i abandoned the ship but i was going down with it" with nolan price?? pleaseee, tysm <3

Tagging: @kmc1989 @topmagtiger @ireadfanfictionontheweekends @flopiboni @evee87

How We Met - Nolan reflects on your relationship.

Happy Birthday - Nolan doesn't celebrate his birthday.

Lifetime - There's no future for you and Nolan but that doesn't stop you loving each other.

Légende (NSFW) - Nolan remembers the last time you were together.

Blood - You support Nolan in the immeadiate aftermath of the subway shooting.

Together - You and Nolan can't be together and you can't be apart.

“You say I abandoned the ship but I was going down with it.”

Nolan’s voice echoes in your brain as you lie alone in bed and stare at the ceiling. It’s another fight another compromise that neither of you can make. He wants you to marry him and you can’t do that so you break up, you make up and then you break up again.

It’s a constant cycle, no matter what happens you just can’t seem to let go of one another. You’ve tried to move on. He’s tried to move on. It always ends the same, the two of you in bed together, his hands in your hair as he fucks you like he loves you, like you’re the only woman for him because the truth is you are.

You think about the transfer request tucked away in your desk drawer. The one you’ve been mulling over the past few days. You can’t bear to be the reason that Nolan’s unhappy and you know that the longer you’re in his proximity the worse it’s going to get because the two of you, you can’t keep away from each another.

So you make the decision that’s best for the both of you.

You decide to leave.

When Nolan drops by your desk at the end of the week he finds it vacant.

And his world, it falls apart.

Love Nolan? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[taylortruther]

Always thought The Great War was interesting because it sounds like barely scrapping through and making it out alive out of whatever rough patch they were in, was the goal, as opposed to using it to learn lessons about where their relationship was flailing and working to make it healthier. Surviving vs thriving?

mmm i feel like that's just a lot to project onto that single song. i do think it was about a rough patch, but i thought it was a realistic vulnerable portrayal of how resentment can ruin a relationship - and how, at some point, you have to decide, do you trust each other and want to make it work, or not? because if you do, you HAVE to leave things in the past, but you also can't forget the lessons you learned. it sounds like maybe you wanted a song about the aftermath/long-term changes of that time? i did too! but ts11 became ttpd, so lmao

[notoriousbeb]

The TTPD Aftermath - Is there any hope for Haylor?

TTPD Notes Glossary

To be blunt: Fuck if I know. Sorry, I know that's not what you probably want to hear.

Life is long. They obviously still care about each other a great deal.

But they obviously can't communicate their issues, in real life, for shit.

I think Taylor was reaching out with this album. And I think Harry will probably do the same on HS4.

But songs can't do the heavy lifting in a long-term relationship. They just can't. So, unless these two can work through that stumbling block, they'll be doomed -- in any relationship.

I hope they can, because everyone deserves to find happiness. And I think they're kind people.

As I've typed ad nauseum: time will tell.

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

The thing about her musings on her youth in this album is not just about the spending her “prime” years with someone who ultimately couldn’t give her what she thought they both wanted (family, but also in general sense the happiness you get when you’re young and your whole lives are ahead of you).

There’s SO much about her youth in general here, and how the demons of the past have raised and broken her. How each of these experiences have chipped away at her youth. This whole album is give me back my girlhood, it was mine first.

It’s all the things she’s talking about had are part of the same big trauma of the loss of that youth and innocence. It’s snakegate and how Kim K and her lackeys deliberately set out to destroy Taylor’s reputation for sport, which ripped out Taylor’s last few grasps of that young adulthood freedom without her consent. It’s mulling the price she’s paid for spending her entire youth in the spotlight and becoming a commodity instead of a person. It’s looking at a friend’s child and wishing she could protect them from the world the way she wishes she could have been had she known. It’s putting your trust in your first love who ripped the rug out from under you and your faith along with it. It’s spending your time pining for your younger days in the haze of unspeakable loss. It’s carving off parts of yourself as you grow up to make yourself palatable to your peers and your partners and as a result not knowing what parts of you are left. It’s revisiting a love from your past when you still had it all, and after the initial frenzy realizing its hollow. And yes, it’s pouring your heart and soul into a relationship you think is forever and with each passing year the light in the window flickering dimmer and dimmer, only to realize the light wasn’t coming from your home after all, and you may lose your chance to find it again before it’s too late and the dreams you so desperately cling to vanish for good.

And that’s what the end message I think ends up being in So High School: she’s reclaiming the land as it were. All these things that were taken from her and that she gave up are up for a redo. And it’s not rewriting the past, it’s coming to the realization that all those parts are still within her but so is the good. That the freedom she gave up when she released her first album is still found in the backseat of a boy’s car all these years later. That she’s older and wiser and battleworn but that doesn’t mean she can’t find that joy and lightness. “I feel so high school when I look at you” is kind of a loaded statement from someone who didn’t really get to go to high school (both actually and metaphorically). “Bittersweet sixteen suddenly” (love that wordplay btw) because again— she’s been through so much that the feelings of new love that make her giddy like a girl are tinged because she’s been here before and also never been here before because she was never that kid.

(There’s also a whole tangent there comparing Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince to So High School and how fraught the first is vs the lightness of this one.)

That’s why this isn’t just a breakup album. It’s why she dredges up 2016 and Jake and Aaron’s son and childhood and high school and any other number of things. Because she has spent her entire youth and adulthood grappling with the issues that came to roost in TTPD, and while this whole experience underscores that you can never know what’s going on with someone (least of all Taylor, a stranger to us all), I also don’t think it’s a coincidence that she has stressed how much healthier and whole she is now. That is why this whole album is a bloodletting, but it’s not just about a broken relationship. It’s about a whole belief system that has stolen girlhood from her and she’s determined to piece back together in the aftermath of the autopsy.

[claraameliapond]

So... is taylor going to give olivia credit and royalties for obviously conceptually copying her song?? It would be only fair wouldn't it..? According to the logic of Olivia having to give over songwriting credits for a split second of screaming in a bridge on deja vu, which sounds nothing like cruel summer's screaming in a bridge at all anyway, then conceptually Taylor obviously being inspired for the whole concept of Olivia's get him back- especially given the timing - when will the songwriting credits to Olivia, Fiona Apple and then wherever that tune in the chorus is from (I've definitely heard that before, it's not original) , be given over? 😀 🙂🙃🤨 they're the same lyrics- and the same title- you know if 'Get Him Back' was released after Taylor's 'imgonnagetyouback' those toxic swifties would say Olivia copied Taylor, so where's that logic now? Where's the consistency ?

Also Honestly, taylor does not come off well with that song anyway. The logic in her song is so off, like who thinks of someone like that. Who values people like that? It's giving ... out of touch. Obviously think what you like but where Olivia's sentiment in her song is justified in outrage and in morality, the mixed emotions in the aftermath of something and feeling outraged on behalf of yourself and how badly you were treated and wanting them to get just desserts, and the cheeky joke she plays on the audience with that double entendre like 'I want to kiss his face....with an uppercut " making people go 'No! Don't fall back in!' And then her going - 'Just joking I know he's terrible' , whereas Taylor's just makes her look like a horrible psychopath. The intentional perpetrator. Who would do that? Think of people like that? , Value people like that?

People are messy and you don't owe anyone pretty etc etc yes ,but this is someone who has built her whole career calling out immoral treatment against her. Recieving rightful empathy and kinship with her fans. Calling out this exact behaviour. And now she's the perpetrator, with intention?

There's a big difference between someone saying 'I want you to get just desserts for your immorality' and someone going "I haven't decided whether I'm going to treat you terribly or marry you and love you forever, because that's how little I value you- and I have the power to do this, either one, and you can't do anything to stop me, I have absolute control over you - I could just as easily be horrible to you, 'smash up your life' /'smash up your bike' " - like, what? Who thinks of people like that? Who wants someone who can think of them like that? Value them like that? That is really toxic valuing. Intentionality

I don't think she's the worst person on earth but she does not come off well here.

Also she should never have accepted that money and credits from Olivia being pressured into it. She doesn't need that money come on. It's a bit hard to believe that Vampire isn't about her

.

And also the point, Who's she with now that's making her think like that?

I do think she intended to release reputation in April- that was a planned schedule, for the eras tour, that all of them would be released within the span of the tour and it would be a triumphant achievement that with the eras tour all of her songs were reclaimed. ...but for some reason felt it wasn't ready, so the organised release was already set so she changed what was being released. She at some point decided to release the ttpd album instead, and got it ready, but sort of too quickly, it's a little sloppy and I think it needed more time to be fine tuned. It feels, rushed- the decisions feel rushed. I think it was originally intended to be released after the eras tour. I think it deserved a bit more time.

I love them both but - you do need to be morally consistent and have some perspective.

[midnightsslut]

yep we have her yearning for fame in bejeweled, we have a sense of her headspace last year. she was talking about how horrible it is to be famous and singing the lucky one after joeover. we have a sense of MH and the aftermath

what i really want to know is what she thinks of it after she was out of the pit post-MH, her decision to release something as vulnerable as ttpd when she knew the whole damn world was tuning in (to some extent the manuscript and her ig caption answers this) and how she feels about fame and what if anything changed between the summer and her times interview when she seems to be in a different headspace. that bit is missing in ttpd

who knew at the time that folklore that gave her career back was also part of a golden cage she couldn’t free herself from because she was struggling with the idea that she was the one who willingly walked in…

I forgot all about that performance in arlington! it was so revealing of her mental state at the time. the fact that she sang mirrorball on guitar to open the tour just two weeks earlier gives me the sense that she was vacillating between feeling ecstatic and resentful because of her fame. i think the one-two punch of the alchemy and clara bow tells us a lot about how she feels right now: she might be on top of the world, and she is very much enjoying her reign, but it took a lot of struggle to get here.

[chosetherose]

"Paris recap" . . . so, we're presenting these as latergrams right off the bat, then? We know Karlie was in Paris at the same time as Taylor for the kick off of the Eras Tour in Europe. Does anyone else think this is just a recap of that trip? Jerk probably just flew out for an afternoon to take some stalker pics of Karlie for his collection and provide a little cover.

I don't like it, and I wish Karlie had done something to shoot down hopes again once she / her team could see they were rising. But I don't think she pushed the idea that she was free herself, so I can't really blame her for the disappointment. Her black and white outfits always seemed more in honor of TTPD than hinting at freedom, to me.

I know the framing of this as an anniversary trip with Jerk is 🤮, but it's probably the wedding day watch scenario all over again. Paris is important to Karlie and Taylor, they spent a romantic trip there together to coincide with the tour, and this is their way of confirming it. As well as making everyone think Karlie is in Paris now. It's nothing we haven't seen before, is my view, and I wouldn't be surprised if there are Easter eggs hidden in some of these images, the same way there were for Karlie's London trip and Robin / Fortnight.

I know feelings are high right now, but maybe something to keep in mind.

I mean yeah there was that Paris location tag before Taylor’s show (if I’m remembering correctly) so we all assumed Karlie was in Paris with Taylor for the Eras dates there. But let’s not forget the state dinner Karlie went to with Jerk in Paris was two days ago on 6/8. She attended the dinner with him, as his beard, as Taylor moved on with the tour. I mean none of this is shocking, we expect Karlie to stunt until there is a split announcement. But there was seemingly more going on than Jerk flying in for a few hours of photos. Guess it could have been a very long day lol.

And perhaps Karlie isn’t teasing us with finish line captions like she did leading into 2022 but there’s a reason why she’s been wearing and posting so much green lately. I don’t want to make us sound self important but she knows what she’s doing. T and K both do. Like the white outfit with bright green bag Karlie wore recently was a choice. It’s not like bright green is the it color right now so every model is wearing it (I am not a fashion expert but this is my read). The black and white outfits, which I believe started after the masters heist in 2019, do very much fit TTPD vibes but do we think in the near immediate aftermath of the heist they started signaling about an album that ended up being released 4-5 years later? I think it means something else but can’t pretend to say what it is with any certainty.

I was never holding my breath for Jerklie to be done in May. I read some very interesting theories that gave me some optimism. But I would have been thoroughly surprised. That’s the extent of it.

Ultimately, smoke and mirrors go both ways. We’ve learned that the hard.

[ghost-proofbaby]

I'm gonna cheat because I don't listen to TS but you know how much I love our pair from Maroon. can you tell us which of her newest songs you most associate with them right now. any tidbits you feel like sharing

^ it's me pleading for special treatment because I love you

abi babe i will always give you infinite special treatment always. however i apologize for how long this is because, uh, this is the couple who i specifically think dominates my brain while listening to TTPD.

i've already covered "I Can Do It With a Broken Heart", so that one 100%.

besides that, though...

Down Bad. the entire premise of the song being compared to being abducted by aliens and when you're returned to earth being like "actually i liked it better up there take me back" as a metaphor for love feels very much like when you had a good relationship, something you expected to last forever, and it just gets taken from you. however, to spice things up - i think it works better applied to how eddie feels. the whole 'fuck it if i can't have him' is exactly how he feels as he's completely destroying himself in the aftermath. and just for fun, so you don't necessarily have to listen to the songs if you don't feel like it my love, i'm adding the specific lines from each song that i feel apply the most.

"how dare you think it's romantic, to leave me safe and stranded? 'cause fuck it, i was in love. so fuck you, if i can't have us."

^ it applies to both reader/sugar and eddie. first half feels very her, because he left her behind to not risk exposing her to a life that had begun to decay him. but second half feels very him cause... fuck it, ya know?

So Long, London. this one is about just being sad and mad about the end of a relationship, and that's where both eddie and sugar still are mentally. to build something so sacred up only to watch it be burned down by the other person. sugar is far angrier than eddie, though, since she's not really taken the time to work through how she feels with the end of it all.

"i didn't opt in to be your odd man out. i founded the club she's heard great things about. i left all i knew, you left me at the house by the heath. i stopped cpr - after all, it's no use."

also.... honorable mentions to the entire goddamn bridge, but specifically "you swore that you loved me, but where were the clues?" and "i'm just mad as hell 'cause i loved this place for so long"

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can). it's a bit of a spoiler, and a bit of a reach, but i think it's a good perspective from the others looking in. the media, but also specifically corroded coffin. this really only applies to post break-up them story-wise, too. he's wrecked himself, destroyed all that he was, and sugar is the only one seeming capable of bringing him back to what he once was.

"i can fix him - no, really, i can. and only i can."

loml. i guess what i'm saying is basically every single song where taylor got very vulnerable and terribly sad about the end of an important/long relationship. this one speaks for itself quite a bit because of the theme of the guy saying "you're the love of my life" repeatedly, only to leave. which is exactly what eddie did, in the grand scheme of things. and taking it a step further? the small implications of a breakup and attempt at rekindling? yeah, yeah that's them alright, your honor.

"who's gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames, if we know the steps anyway?"

^ literally what they are doing as we speak ^

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived. this one i would mostly apply to all of sugar/reader's anger pre-reunion. that anger of a man who simply ghosts you. she didn't let herself feel the 'breakup' much, but she did go through some of the stages of grief - and she got stuck at anger.

"you kicked out stage lights, but you're still performing. and in plain sight, you hid. but you are what you did."

^ all his self-destruction when she sees it at surface level :) just seeing him as doing nothing more than throwing a tantrum :)

this is getting a bit out of hand now, but when it comes to the double album bit, there's even more. i don't want to bore you to death so i'm just going to list those songs but. yeah. this album felt very maroon coded to me. the losing and the anger and the sadness and the clinging to what once was. should've expected it, in all fairness.

from THE ANTHOLOGY, i'd say that 'the black dog', 'chloe or sam or sophia or marcus', 'how did it end?', 'i look in people's windows', 'the prophecy', 'peter', and 'the manuscript' are the ones that fit best for maroon. some are a stretch, some it's solely based off of one line that i couldn't get over, and some i just simply think it's the vibes. a true matter of the illness that is "they're my blurbos so i'll apply whatever song i want to them".

i'm sure we'll see a few of these as chapter titles going forward, including the anthology ones, so that'll probably be when i dig in a little deeper about specific lyrics. or when i post ominous music posts.

anyways if you made it to the end (especially you abi) i love you so fucking much and thank you for enjoying my absolutely insane ted talk i just basically did on how TTPD is very very sugar x eddie coded <3