#and my wife is very much a Swiftie through and through | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blossomingbooks · 2 months ago

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Taylor Swift eras as books

Whether you're a fan or not, you definitely know about Taylor Swift's massive The Eras Tour, a show conceived to homage each "era" — that is, each album — from the artist's discography.

With that in mind (and because I am, in fact, a Swiftie), I thought it would be fun (that is, I couldn't resist) to connect each of those "eras" to a book that I've reviewed here on the blog.

After much deliberation and trying to think of the albums conceptually, lyrically and aesthetically, here are the conclusions that I came to:

1. "Taylor Swift" — Anne of Green Gables

For her self-titled and debut album, I tried to think of the most naïve narratives I had read, and so I naturally gravitated towards children's literature. From all that I've read in that genre, Anne Shirley seemed to me like the most fitting character for this album. After all, Swift's debut work is not only permeated by her inexperience and innocence, but also showcases some of the most intense emotions one feels, unfiltered, in one's youth. The song "Picture To Burn" could easily have been written during one of Anne's most raging fits, while "A Place in this World" perfectly describes L.M. Montgomery's orphan:

"I'll be strong, I'll be wrong, oh, but life goes on Oh, I'm just a girl trying to find a place in this world"

2. "Fearless" — Romeo and Juliet

Taylor Swift's sophomore album was an easy one to compare to a work of literature: romantic, brave and hopeful, it instantly transports one to the setting of a love story. And that is, of course, the title of one of the main singles of the "Fearless" era. In the well-known hit "Love Story", Swift directly references one of the most famous romances in the history of literature: that of Romeo and Juliet, the titular characters in William Shakespeare's most famous play.

"Little did I know that you were Romeo, you were throwing pebbles And my daddy said, 'Stay away from Juliet'"

3. "Speak Now" — Little Women

Swift's third album is her declaration of independence as a songwriter. Completely self-written, the lyrics are imbued with an intimate, confessional tone about the highs and lows of coming of age. Through this train of thought, it made sense to me to relate it to Louisa May Alcott's most famous novel, Little Women. The story of the four March sisters spans 10 years of their coming-of-age, much of it through the perspective of Jo (a very autobiographical character), the one who wants to become a writer and who eventually writes about their lives. "Never Grow Up" is a song that reminds me of this story:

"Take pictures in your mind of your childhood room Memorize what it sounded like when your dad gets home Remember the footsteps, remember the words said"

4. "Red" — The Scarlet Letter

"Faster than the wind, passionate as sin, ending so suddenly"

These lyrics from the album's titular song are a perfect summary for the affair between Hester Prynne and Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale in Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter. Apart from the obvious color parallelism, Swift's fourth album "Red" also deals with an intense and destructive romance. The story of the adultery committed by a married woman with a minister, which is considered sinful by the Puritan society which they inhabit, is very much "Sad Beautiful Tragic":

"And you've got your demons, and darling, they all look like me (...) What a sad, beautiful, tragic love affair"

5. "1989" — The Age of Innocence

Swift's fifth album brought a paradigm change for her music — just like Edith Wharton brought a paradigm change with this novel by being the first woman to ever win the Pulitzer Prize in Fiction. 1989 is where Swift starts to address the repercussions of fame, which recalls the social performance and pressures of New York aristocracy in the Gilded Age. That's the setting for this novel, in which Newland Archer starts falling in love with Ellen Olenska, his wife's cousin. Seen by society as a "'Slut!'", Ellen is a very progressive free-spirit and their affair is very similar to the lyrics in "I Know Places":

"You stand with your hand on my waistline It's a scene and we're out here in plain sight I can hear them whisper as we pass by (...) Baby, I know places we won't be found"

6. "reputation" — The Phantom of the Opera

The rollout of Swift's sixth album was the most dramatic of her career. After a hiatus prompted by media scrutiny and celebrity feuds, she mysteriously blanked out all of her social media and created suspense by posting videos of snakes. The aggressive sounds and overall themes of rage and revenge in this album recall none other than "The Phantom" of the Opera himself, whose reputation precedes him. In Gaston Leroux's famous novel, the mystery of the Opera ghost keeps everyone on their toes, including singer Christine Daaé, who is haunted and kidnapped by the titular character.

"Knew he was a killer first time that I saw him Wondered how many girls he had loved and left haunted But if he's a ghost, then I can be a phantom Holdin' him for ransom"

7. "Lover" — Emma

In this Jane Austen novel, matchmaker Emma Woodhouse plays cupid for everyone around her but wants no romance for herself. Described as high-spirited and “an imaginist”, her lively personality matches the bubbly and dreamy aesthetic of Swift's seventh studio album. Containing some of her funniest lyrics, Lover is very fitting for this 19th century comedy of manners. Emma's ultimate self-discovery, about her feelings for long-time family friend Mr. Knightley, turns her into the one thing she never expected to be: a lover.

"I've been the archer I've been the prey Who could ever leave me, darling? But who could stay?"

8. "folklore" — Circe

Reading this book was a wild experience, because so many parts of this Greek mythology figure's story kept reminding me of folklore lyrics. It got to the point of me creating a Circe playlist with 12 tracks from the album, arranged in the order of where they fit in the narrative. It starts with her parents, Helios (personification of the sun) and the naiad Perse, and it spans thousands of years, including Circe's exile (!) to an isolated island (which in turn feels a lot like "the lakes"). Later, I couldn't help but listen to "august" and "cardigan" through the lens of her relationship with Odysseus. But it's "my tears ricochet" that resonates most perfectly with her plotline:

"We gather here, we line up, weepin' in a sunlit room And if I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes, too (...) I didn't have it in myself to go with grace And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves"

9. "evermore" — To the Lighthouse

This Virginia Woolf novel is as melancholic and introspective as Swift's most wintery album. In the first part of the narrative, I couldn't help but think that Mrs. Ramsay would find some catharsis in the lyrics of "tolerate it"; while, parallelly, unmarried young painter Lily Briscoe does her portrait. In the final part of the narrative, on the other hand, "happiness" would echo in my mind, for reasons I won't spoil.

"I sit and watch you readin' with your head low (...) I sit and watch you I notice everything you do or don't do (...) Use my best colors for your portrait"

10. "Midnights" — Madame Bovary

This was the hardest album for me to choose a book for, probably because I find it to not be as thematically cohesive as the others. However, Gustave Flaubert's anti-heroine quite literally fits Swift's lead single for Midnights: Emma Bovary's actions are heavily scrutinized by her judging provincial neighbors. Moreover, the "antihero" trope was popularized by Romanticism, a movement embodied by the protagonist herself in this Realist critique.

"It's me, hi. I'm the problem, it's me At tea time, everybody agrees I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero"

11. "The Tortured Poets Department" — The Yellow Wallpaper

Ironically, for Swift's longest album I chose the shortest book of this list. That's because Charlotte Perkins Gilman's short story perfectly encapsules the trope of the madwoman, which is the starting point of this album. The music video for its lead single, "Fortnight", portrays Swift in a mental facility, while in the album's prologue she mentions a "temporary insanity" and a "manic phase". The Tortured Poets Department also has some of her saddest, most heart-wrenching music; fittingly, the protagonist in "The Yellow Wallpaper" starts the narrative with a nervous depression that slowly turns into madness:

"You don't get to tell me about sad (...) You don't get to tell me you feel bad Is it a wonder I broke? Let's hear one more joke Then we could all just laugh until I cry So I leap from the gallows and I levitate down your street Crash the party like a record scratch as I scream 'Who's afraid of little old me?'"

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bisluthq · 9 months ago

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I'm the other anon. Just wanted to clarify something. I have seen a few videos of Taylor and Travis some from the post party and others from other occasions in public. I haven't seen all of them, because if I don't like them it doesn't really make much sense to seek content about them. These are just the videos I came across. I'm actually really glad I haven't seen that boob grabbing video. I think they have awkward chemistry or not much. I have seen a lot of people saying the same, so it's not about being a contrarian against the world. I'm sure if you ask a swiftie, none will have that opinion though. It's also not that deep. I mean, my opinion doesn't really matter to them. With or without chemistry they're together. Doesn't stop me from thinking this is like 2015 Calvin and Hiddleswift on steroids situation rolled into one. If that's what she wants now though, good for her ig

I think this is a healthy attitude - if it doesn’t interest you, don’t follow it. If they spark joy, rad. If they’re a lil triggering like to that other anon maybe actively disengage and mute his name. It def isn’t that deep. It’s her life and she can live it however the actual fuck she wants to and like as she should. She seems happy rn. The rest isn’t our business.

also I mean Tayvin ended badly but they had really good times before it did and she’s barely badmouthed him since (a similar thing imo will happen with Joe although she was writing through the end of Joe and she was in a writer’s block through the end of Calvin) beyond saying he called her a freeloader (I suspect metaphorically but I do think that was a vibe she felt when she was living at his house like he was pushing her into his like little perfect wife thing and she wasn’t entirely keen on it and also he was a cheating cheater who cheated but highkey she’s not exactly clean on those types of issues) and saying he cramped her style (because imo Bejeweled, while paralleling Joe, was mostly inspired by the end of Tayvin). She’s actually been pretty nice about Calvin overall. I mean like he wasn’t great but he wasn’t a monster either and he was her first VERY serious relationship.

Travlor has already gone on longer than Hiddleswift so that’s an irrelevant comparison beyond the media frenzies for both. The vibes seem quite different. Hiddles was a distraction for her from how shit everything else was (work, friends, Calvin, public perception of her) and Travis is a cherry on top of how great everything is going (work, friends, public perception of her, a relatively amicable breakup with Joe where he isn’t like fighting people on Twitter about this etc or having meltdowns in public).

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karahalloway · 1 year ago

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Okay confession time. Every time Chris says mate, I read it in an Aussie accent... DON'T JUDGE!

Hahahahaha! That's funnuy! 🤣🤣🤣 But I 100% get where you're coming from bc he says it in an Auzzie accent in my head as well! Even though this is a turn of phrase I stole from my hubby (who's British 🤣)

Lol, I probably would be too scared to enter a place like that.... even if it smelt like good bacon!

So, fun fact - this dive is 100% based on an actual place I went to in Vancouver. I arrived on the first flight in and needed breakfast, so I googled 'best breakfast places' and this place came up - went to it and was like 'erm... this can't be right...' (exactly as I described in the fic) but the food was sooooo good 😆 So, never judge a book by its cover!

How on earth did they get him through the door?!?! lmao!

Max probably shoved/dragged him in 🤣

I love how they all start trolling him, haha!

Their banter! Actually, Drake's snark is hilarious alongside pretty much everyone. Especially, Leo, Max and Tariq

Thanks! This entire sequence pretty much just wrote itself 😆 I love it when the guys just get to be guys and piss around lol

And Leo...I just can't! How are he and Chris even from the same stock?!?!

Leo is a helluva lot more laid back than Chris is - and I HC that he's had a lot more extra-curricular experiences (e.g. like the volcano climbing, the camel episode in the desert that I referenced in the previous chapter, etc.) so he just has a very different approach to life in general

Leo is referring to Harper as Swifty? Becuase he thinks she looks like Taylor Swift? Yeah, this has likely come up already, but my memory is bad

Yes, it's Leo's nickname for Harper (primarily bc they are both blonde lol) Introduced in the karaoke chapter 😇

You've already had more than your fair share this MORNING, Walker!

Or not... you know... 😅

MAX! I thought you were better than that!

That gif 🤣🤣🤣 In my mind it's not bc Max is pervy or anything - he's just an exhibitionist and documents everything that he does with photos and videos (even sex - especially when it's kind of out of the box sex like in this case lol)

I'm also a little disappointed in Chris, Never took him for the hit-n-go type.

It's not by choice - it's kind of referenced in the interaction with Drake when they're waiting for the lift in the hotel, but Chris doesn't really want to say good-bye to Hayley, which is why he doesn't wake her. Because the convo would be awkward and heart-wrenching. Bc at this point, it hasn't occurred to him that he could ask Hayley to come to Cordonia (bc he has been raised with the expectation that he would have to choose a wife during the social season, and she would be a noblewoman).

YES YOU HAVE!!!!!!

🤣 Good thing Drake is fictional, otherwise I feel you'd be coming after him with pitchforks and knives right now!

That mental image!

Lol this whole sequence went down with a few people 😆

Although, it would have been hilarious if they had left him behind!

Agreed - and that was the plan... but the guy decided to show up at the last minute, much to everyone's disgust lol

NO NO NO! WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO MEEEE?!?!?!? Now the series is almost finished and he's never gonna see Harper again!

Those gifs....!

...but we have one chapter left... and anything could happen!

Thanks so much for reading, liking and emoting! 🥰

Sleepless in New York: Chapter 12 - Hungover on You

Series: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Synopsis: This is a short-story series written from Drake’s POV that explores an AU where Drake meets Harper (my OC from (Un)Common Attraction) by himself before the boys come to the bar on the last night of Christian’s bachelor party.

Masterlist: Sleepless in New York

Chapter Summary: The time has come to fly back home... but who won the bet?

Word Count: 6,800

Rating/Warnings: E (swearing, aggravation, references to graphic images, references to sex, references to bodily functions, toilet humour, motive for murder, way too much caffeine)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: Thank you so much for bearing with me! This chapter was supposed to be done quickly but then it suddenly exploded into the almost 7,000-word monster that you see before you (I blame Leo 😆). Hopefully, the contents make up for the longer-than-planned wait! There will be one more chapter.

A/N2: As an FYI, everything that is mentioned is true/correct/accurate. Yes, everything! You'll know what I mean when you get to it! 🙃

Chapter 12 - Hungover on You

"Mmm... You're right... These pancakes are heavenly...!" enthuses Max 'round an overstuffed gob.

"I have to admit, I may have been skeptical at first, given the somewhat... dated nature of the décor," admits Chris, skewering the last bite of his own stack, "but I am very glad that I did not allow first impressions to sway me, and to instead let the delights of the fare speak for itself."

I throw him a sidelong glance. "I told you to trust me, didn't I?"

"That you did, mate," Chris chuckles good-naturedly. "That you did."

"Drake always finds the best food," sighs Max as he closes his eyes in blissful appreciation.

I shrug nonchalantly. If you know where to look...

Having hit up Times Square and snapping the obligatory pic or two — it's the end of the trip... fuck it — I'd heeded Chris' final request for this trip by tracking down somewhere we could fuel up before our fast-approaching flight home.

And given the questionable-looking nature of our chosen venue, Chris' initial trepidation had been more than understandable.

Because from the outside — but for the tell-tale smell of bacon wafting out onto the street — this joint looks more like an illicit drug den than a bona fide restaurant. The single-paned window that faces the street has a massive crack in it, the doorway stinks of stale urine, and I wouldn't be surprised if a dead body or two had ended up in the dumpster 'round the back.

The inside's not much better, either. It's a cheap, no-frills galley-kitchen kind of set-up manned by a single, overweight chef who pumps out eggs, bacon, pancakes and hash browns in massive portions while you sit on the other side of the greasy, Lino-covered counter on creaky, '60's bar stools, sipping fully-leaded coffee from chipped mugs.

In short, the complete antithesis of the polished and slightly over-glammed feel of the retro, 1950s diner we ate at yesterday.

And that's why I picked it. Because after having been up the whole night, we need something to sub-in for our lack of sleep, and nothing tastes better than comfort food when you're craving a calorie hit. Plus, Chris had wanted a 'classic' Stateside breakfast experience, and it doesn't get much more Americana than this...

"What is all that sticky goop that it's swimming in?"

...except for the fact that I have Tariq sitting on the other side of me, complaining loudly about every-damn-thing that offends his toffee-nosed sensibilities.

Because as per usual, I can't seem to take two steps in this goddamn city without the Almighty crapping on me.

Our butts had just hit the stools when Chris' phone began lighting up with a million-and-one messages from Max asking where we were, what the plan was, and was there any food anywhere.

So, Chris (being Chris), had extended the breakfast invite to not only Max, but to the rest of our band of noble misfits, meaning that our laid-back outing has now morphed into a real-life rendition of The Breakfast Club.

I suppress a groan as I take another swig of my scalding coffee, careful not to move my mouth too much, given that — on top of everything — my jaw has set into exactly the kind of contused stiffness that I'd hoped to avoid.

My own damn fault for not icing the damn thing down when I had the chance...

The only person missing is Leo.

Not that I really care. I've had enough of that guy and his BS for one trip. And the main reason I haven't decked him yet for the shit he pulled last night is because I haven't actually seen him since Gale and I got booted from the club.

And I don't want to ruin Chris' last hour in the Big Apple by knocking his brother's teeth out.

The same can't be said for Tariq, though...

"It's maple syrup, Besnard..." I grunt at him, trying to maintain my focus on the viscous caffeine in my hand, and not the half-a-dozen ways in which I could smash the asshole's face into the countertop.

Because after the steady stream of crap that's hit the fan in the past 36 hours, the only thing keeping me on this side of sane right now is the free-refill mugs of coffee that I've been pouring into myself since we sat down.

Which means that my mood's dancing on a hair trigger, and I'm one stupid comment away from committing violence.

The chef'd probably thank me, though...

Tariq flashes me a disgusted look. "Maple syrup...? You mean tree sap? That is the most disgusting thing I have ever heard of!"

"A lot of things come from trees, dipshit..." I mutter, forcing myself to keep staring at the wall ahead.

Tariq scoffs. "Why would—?"

"Cinnamon is obtained from the inner bark of various South and South East Asian tree species," Chris reminds him.

"And cloves are the dried aromatic flower buds of the clove tree," adds Max, chewing loudly on a ketchup-coveted tater-tot.

Tariq glares down the counter disdainfully. "What are you lot? Walking encyclopaedias...?"

"We just know where our food comes from, Besnard," I grind out around the rim of my mug. "As would you if you ever bothered to step outside."

"Where it comes from is irrelevant," comes the derisive clap-back. "The only thing that matters is the price tag."

"Even when it's been through the digestive tract of a wild animal?" interjects Max with a perfectly straight face.

Tariq nearly spews his over-steeped tea across the room. "What!"

"Certain brands of coffee demand a premium price because of their somewhat... exotic processing process," affirms Chris. "For instance, Kopi Luwak is the most exclusive coffee in the world primarily because it comes from beans that have been consumed and then excreted by the Indonesian palm civet."

Tariq's eyes bulge. "Excreted... As in—?"

"Pooped out," confirms Max gleefully. "Through tiny little butt holes."

Tariq looks like he's about to puke.

"That is correct," continues Chris. "The bile in the civet's digestive system causes the fermentation of—"

Tariq bolts from his chair.

"Lemme guess..." I drawl, turning to face the other two. "The fuck stick's just realised that he's willingly subjected himself to this fancy ass coffee."

"Ass being the operative word..." sniggers Max as he mops up the escaped yolk from his sunny-side-up eggs with a piece of over-buttered toast.

"Yes," laughs Chris, reaching for his own mug of coffee. "He accompanied his father on a business trip to Indonesia last year where he was given the 'Holy Grail' of coffees as a gift..."

"...not realising what it actually was," I snort. "Typical."

The door of the dive creaks open.

"Speaking of typical..." I muttered under my breath as I glance over my shoulder and catch sight of the familiar figure who's just stepped through the entranceway.

"Hey, hey, hey, party people!" greets Leo as he saunters up to us like he doesn't have a care in the world...

...Oh, wait. He never does.

"Glad you could make it!" smiles Chris as he gets up from his stool to clasp his brother's hand in his own. "I was starting to think maybe you lost your phone again."

"I did, as a matter of fact," confirms Leo with a lop-sided grin, fist-pumping Max as he flops down into Tariq's now-vacant seat.

Chris frowns. "But then how—?"

"DiCaprio took pity on me and gave me a new one he had lying around his flat... Which, I have to say, is pretty sweet."

Max is gaping in starry-eyed admiration. "You got to go to famous Leo's apartment? Jealous!"

"No party like the after-party! And that man knows how to party. Oh! Bacon!" the elder Rys exclaims, suddenly laying eyes on Tariq's abandoned plate.

Chris still looks confused. "But if you lost your phone—"

"The magic of the eSIM, baby!" declares Leo with a full mouth as he brandishes a brand-new iPhone into the air. "Been using it for years! Why d'you think my number never changes?"

Chris opens, then closes his mouth. "Fair point."

"Glad to see you haven't lost your touch, Walker," continues Leo with a shit-eating grin as he elbows me in the ribs. "This place is the perfect spot to get daytime murdered in!"

"Careful what you wish for, Rys..." I mutter under my breath.

"Good bacon, though!" he quips, filching another rasher.

"We can order you a helping if you're hungry..." offers Chris.

"Nah, I'm good," replies Leo, dunking the bacon into some syrup. "Grabbed a bagel on the way from this awesome little Jewish place. Do you know that they even—?"

"Oh, dear God...!" gasps Tariq, bursting back into the dining area with a horrified look on his face. "That restroom is disgusting!"

I clench my eyes shut. Sweet Jesus give me strength...

"I admit it smelled a bit funky," concedes Max, "but nothing worse than when Bertrand—"

"There is excrement floating in the toilet bowl!" Tariq all but shrieks.

"Lemme guess..." I murmur to Chris under my breath. "He didn't know how that shit got made either."

Chris' eyes bulge as his coffee goes down the wrong way.

"That is generally what happens when you take a dump," Max tells him prosaically.

"It wasn't mine!!"

"Hate to break it to you, old sport," intones Leo, laying a hand on Besnard's shoulder, "but not every pisser flushes itself. So, you're going to have t—"

"No!" interjects Tariq, shoving Leo's arm away. "I refuse to go back in there! In fact, I've had it with this entire establishment, this entire city, and this entire bloody trip! Everybody is rude, nobody respects me, and I have suffered enough denigration to last me a lifetime! I am leaving!"

Throwing his nose into the air, he turns on the heel of his treadless Ferragamo loafers to stomp out of the diner.

"Christ!" huffs Leo as he jerks a derisive thumb in Tariq's direction. "Who pissed in his Earl Grey?"

"Oh, he's just miffed because he knows he lost the bet last night," supplies Max 'round a mouthful of toast.

Leo perks up. "What bet?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake..." I groan.

I'd completely forgotten 'bout the stupid bet...

"He does know that the hotel is in the other... direction..." coughs Chris, having finally managed to clear the wayward coffee from his lungs. "Doesn't he?"

"I wouldn't bet on it," I mutter, watching Tariq nearly get run over by an early morning cab as he tries to cross the street. "If we're lucky, he'll end up in Brooklyn again."

Chris starts hacking all over again as he tries and fails to stifle a laugh. "You're a...horrible person..."

"But I'm not wrong," I tell him, pointedly lifting my mug to my mouth again.

"Screw the sour-arsed sod!" cries Leo. "I want to know about this bet! And why I wasn't included on it!"

"You weren't there," I tell him tersely. "Plus, you'd've been ineligible anyway."

"Why would I—?" The proverbial lightbulb clicks to life in Leo's head. "Ooh! It was a race to fourth base, wasn't it?"

"Congrats, Sherlock," I grunt. "You've graduated to deductive reasoning..."

"Not just a pretty face, Walker," winks Leo in reply.

I roll my eyes as I return my attention to my coffee.

"But who's the winner...?" Leo continues contemplatively, eyeing the rest of us.

Max opens his mouth...

"No! Don't tell me!" decrees Leo, shoving a hand into the Beaumont's face. "I wasn't included in the bet, so I demand some vicarious recompense! I'm going to guess!"

"How—?" starts Chris.

"By using my incomparable situational awareness, sprinkled with just a smidge of mind-reading!"

"Sounds mystical..." admits Chris.

"Oh, it is! Prepare to be amazed!"

"I'm ready!" shouts Max like an overeager five-year old.

My head falls down between my arms with a pained groan. Somebody just shoot me...

"Alrighty, then," declares Leo, rubbing his hands together with an ungodly dose of perverse satisfaction. "So, we know for a fact that Toss-Pot Besnard never made it out the gate, and—"

"How are you so certain?" asks Chris with a frown.

"For a start, it's Tariq," I mutter at him from the greasy countertop. "Plus, if by some miracle he had managed to pull, he'd've been bragging about it as soon as he walked in."

"True..." Chris concedes with a laugh.

"But, more importantly," adds Max, "Lucy and Jamie — the two girls he'd been after — ended up taking me home last night."

My head snaps up so fast, I nearly give myself whiplash. "They fucking what?"

"You heard me!" grins Max like the Grinch who stole Christmas.

"Hayley and Harper's friends..." reiterates Chris carefully. "You slept with both of them?"

"Yup!" comes the cocky affirmation.

"Well, fuck me running..." I scoff with a shake of my head.

Though I can't seem to stop an involuntary smirk from pulling at my mouth. Because that shit? That's impressive.

"Yes, gold star to Baby Beaumont," agrees Leo with a grin, slapping Max on the back. "But did he seal the deal before my little brother? That's the million-dollar question..."

"What about Drake?" interjects Chris. "He and Harper—"

"Oh, Walker didn't score!" laughs Leo.

Chris' eyes widen as he turns back to me. "You didn't? But you were the first to leave."

"Not by choice..." I admit sourly.

"Captain America here got his arse handed to him by a couple of beefcakes..." Leo explains.

"Fuck you, Rys!" I snap. "It was five against one and I still held my ground!"

"It was you who got caught up in that fight?" gasps Max. "That looked brutal..."

"It would certainly explain the bruises on your face," muses Chris, eyeing me critically. "And the ripped shirt."

I make a vague noise by way of reply. But I don't bother to correct him. The details aren't important. They lead to the same result.

Not that that's anybody's business...

"...and promptly got tossed out the club with Swifty in tow," continues Leo cheerfully. "Which I'm guessing is the reason why she wasn't willing to put out, because—"

I shoot off the stool, shattering the mug in my hand in the process. "Mention her one more time, Rys, and I swear to God—"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait!" interjects Max with a frantic wave of his hands. "If he left with Harper, how do you know that he didn't—?"

Leo jabs an uncompromising finger into my face. "Does this look like the expression of a man who'd spent the night warmly cocooned by the soft embrace of a woman's supple and welcoming thighs?"

I slap his hand away with a growl.

"Hmm..." muses Max, narrowing his eyes at me. "Now that you mention it... He does seem surprisingly grouchy this morning. Even more so than he was last night..."

"Beaumont..." I warn.

"Whereas my little brother is positively glowing!" continues Leo, fanning his hands around Chris by way of illustration. "Tell me you don't see the difference!"

"Fuck you, both," I grunt, slinging myself down into the barstool again.

A fresh mug of coffee appears before me, as if by magic.

I grab for it tersely. Where's the whiskey when you need it...?

"I rest my case," declares Leo smugly. "Which means, it's down to Lord Three-Way Beaumont and Prince Pull-Hard Charming. But who took their ladies to Heaven first...?"

"It doesn't matter," I grunt abrasively. "Max isn't in the running."

"I am afraid he is correct," Chris agrees after a second's reflection, glancing at Max. "No one backed you, so—"

"Rubbish!" objects Leo loudly. "The sheer act of the ménage à trois should guarantee him a spot in the champions' league, if not the entirety of the pot outright!"

"Except he's not the one who gets the money," I point out. "It's the person who ponied him."

"Christ, if it's that much of an issue, I'll punt him!" declares Leo. "What were the stakes?"

"Eight hundred ducats," Max tells him.

"Done," Leo declares, pulling his wallet out to drop a handful of Ben Franklins on the counter.

Chris meets my eye. "Your call, Drake. It's your money on the line."

I flick my eyes between Max and Chris, before letting out a low breath. "Fuck it. Let's make it interesting."

Pulling my own wallet out, I slap the requisite cash down as well.

Because worst case? I'm out of pocket $500. But best case? I net four times that. And I'm my book, that's a play worth making. Especially when my money's on Chris.

"That's my man!" whoops Leo, punching me enthusiastically in the arm.

"Careful, Rys," I warn him as Chris and Max add their contributions to the purse as well. "It's your dough I'm about to walk away with..."

"Eh..." shrugs Leo unconcernedly. "Money's relative."

"Spoken like a born-and-bred fat cat," I reply dryly.

"And now for the big reveal!" shouts Leo, clapping his hands together. "The stakes are set. The buttocks are clenched. Who takes the crown of Don Juan?"

Chris and Max exchange wry looks.

"What time did you get back to the hotel?" Max asks.

"Just after midnight, I believe..."

"Twelve thirty-five," I tell him.

Max's feet start dancing beneath him. "Oh, this is going to be close! We got back to the girls' flat around half-past as well."

"Sod all that!" cries Leo. "Get to the climax, gents! We want to know who got slob on their knob first!"

"Well, after we got back to the suite, we shared a drink before we..." Chris clears his throat. "...retired to the bedroom. So, perhaps 1am?"

"Yeah-yah!" enthuses Leo with a snap of his fingers. "Bring it home like a pro, bro!"

"Not sure why you're rooting for him," I scoff.

"I am permitted to share in my little brother's sex-tastic accomplishments!" he counters. "Especially when I'm the one who taught him everything he knows!"

"Except now, it's about to leave you out of pocket," I smirk, reaching for the pile of cash.

"Hold on!" interjects Max, scrolling furiously through his phone. "I think I have Christian beat!"

I frown. "How in the—?"

"Watch it and weep!" the Beaumont exclaims triumphantly, thrusting his phone out.

Leaning in towards the device — from the speakers of which spew the unmistakably pornographic sounds of sex — Leo, Chris, and I are greeted with a bird's eye view of Max balling Lucy from behind while she went down on Jamie's spread-eagled form on the bed.

Leo's jaw drops. "You filmed it?"

"Would've been rude not to," smirks Max.

"You dirty bugger!" laughs Leo, grabbing the Beaumont to noogie him.

I pull my eyes away from the X-rated spectacle. "Okay, but how does this—?"

"Look at the...time stamp," prompts Max from beneath Leo's arm.

Glancing back at the screen, I focus in on the tiny numbers at the top.

12:52am.

My shoulders slump. "Goddamn it."

"Looks like we have our winner," Chris concedes with a wry chuckle.

"You're not even going to contest it?" I demand, throwing an accusatory hand out at Max.

"I am not sure there is anything to contest," replies Chris. "The numbers speak for themselves. And since Maxwell is the only one out of the two of us who had the foresight to record the exact timing of the event, I think it is only fair that he takes the pot."

"Yeah, baby!" whoops Leo, jumping off his stool with outstretched arms to thrust out an in-your-face victory dance à la Ace Ventura. "Can you feel it? Can... you... feel it?! Damn, it feels good!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever..." I grunt with a roll of my eyes.

But, Leo's asinine antics aside, I have to hand it to Max. Not only did the guy manage to go above and beyond, but he somehow managed to beat the clock as well.

So, I can't begrudge second place too much.

"I believe this is rightfully yours, big brother," declares Chris, graciously handing the pile of bills over.

"Why, thank you, little brother!" grins Leo as he accepts the winnings with a mock bow...

...before studiously dumping the cash into Max's lap.

The Beaumont's eyes widen in disbelief. "I— But you— I didn't—"

"Hey, I wasn't the one with my pants down on the front lines last night," he says. "So, if anyone deserves the spoils of war, it's you."

Max is still gawping like a stupefied goldfish. "But—"

"Spend it well, kemosabe," the elder Rys incants somberly, laying a hand on Max's shoulder.

"Th-thank you," stammers Max, suddenly overcome with unexpected emotion.

"Ehh... Don't mention it!" shrugs Leo with a grin. "I'm just here for the memories. Though... speaking of, if you want your lasting memories of this trip to be anything other than dear Father sending a squadron of Guards after you to haul you back across the Pond, I suggest you get your tushes to the airport."

"Oh, shit..." I cuss, glancing down at my watch. "We gotta move." Necking the last of my coffee, I signal for the cheque.

"Are you flying back with us?" asks Chris as he pushes himself off his stool.

"Nah," demurs Leo, reaching across his brother to grab the final piece of bacon off Tariq's plate. "As much as I'd love to steal your thunder by gate-crashing yet another fancy ball that I don't have an invitation to, you know Regina still hasn't revoked that shoot-on-sight order she put out on my head last year."

Chris laughs. "I'm sure it's not all that bad..."

"You'd be surprised!" insists Leo with only a touch of sardonicism. "Plus, I promised Katie that I'll bring her back a box of cronuts. So, I got a few errands to run before I jet out."

"Well, in that case," replies Chris, reaching out to envelop his brother in a hug, "thank you for coming, and we'll hopefully see each other soon!"

"You can bet on it, matey," confirms Leo, giving Chris a heartfelt thump on the back before pulling away. "At the Coronation, if nothing else."

Chris' eyes widen. "Father signed off on your attendance?"

"Not yet," the elder Rys admits. "But I'm slowing wearing the old man down."

"Well, I — for one — certainly hope you succeed!" laughs Chris.

"I have faith in myself," winks Leo. Leaning past Chris, he reaches out to bump knuckles with Max. "Beaumont. Say hi to Bert for me."

"Will do," nods Max. "And thank you. Again. You really didn't—"

"Like I said," Leo deflects with an arrant smirk. "Don't even mention it."

Max nods gratefully.

Finally, Leo turns to me. "Walker."

I meet his eye impassively as I draw myself up to my full height to face him. "Rys."

"You got his six, right?" he asks, inclining his head almost imperceptibly back towards his brother, who — true to his earlier promise — is in the process of intercepting the bill before it can make it to me.

"Come hell or high water," I affirm.

"Good," he nods, his expression uncharacteristically tight. "'Cause there's going to be both. And he'll need someone to help pull him through."

"This ain't my first rodeo, Leo," I remind him, watching Chris trying to figure out which greenback was which with Max's help as he sought to pay for our breakfast.

"I know," acknowledges Leo, his face tightening as the memories of the fallout from the assassination attempt flash through his memory. "But I still appreciate it. He is my only brother, after all."

I meet his eye. "Then you know why I'm doing it."

Leo holds my gaze for a long moment before extending his hand. "You're a good friend, Drake."

"Someone's gotta be," I tell him with a wry smile, reciprocating the gesture.

Leo might grate me up the wrong way with his bad jokes and juvenile attitude, but we are — and always have been — on the same page when it comes to Chris.

"They're rarer than you think," Leo murmurs softly. Dropping my hand, he turns back to Chris and Max, who have finally managed to settle the bill, plus tip. "Ciao, amigos! It's been a blast!"

"Have a good flight!" Chris tells him with a wave.

"I always do!" Leo assures him. "Stay safe, little brother. Give the ladies a fair chance, don't do anything I wouldn't—"

I scoff. "Is there even such a thing?"

"—and remember," Leo continues unabashedly, "if you're ever in doubt, there's always the balcony!"

Chris stifles a laugh. "I'm sure it won't come to that..."

"Never underestimate the beauty of a Plan B!" Leo hollers over his shoulder as he pulls the rickety door open, and steps out onto the street.

Max stares after him with a perplexed look. "When he said 'balcony'... Did he mean you jumping off it, or you throwing the lady off?"

"I wouldn't read into it too much," I advise as I grab my leather jacket to pull it on. Turning to Chris I ask, "You good?"

"Yes, I think I managed to sort the bill..." he replies, pulling his own jacket on as well. "Fifty percent gratuity is acceptable here, right?"

I nearly dislocate my shoulder putting my arm into a non-existent sleeve. "Erm... Yeah. Sure. More than acceptable."

Christmas definitely came early for this waitress!

But at least the hefty tip would help smooth over any wayward resentment left in the wake of Tariq's ass-like behaviour.

Chris' face visibly relaxes. "Oh, good! I wasn't sure of the correct etiquette."

"Trust me," I drawl, opening the creaky door. "You ain't never gonna fall flat in that department."

"If you say so," concedes Chris with a smile as he and Max follow me out onto the street.

"I know so," I assure him, leading the way back to Broadway.

At just gone 7am on a weekday, the city is already a hive of activity with cyclists, taxis, and pedestrians vying for position on the thoroughfares against the buses, garbage trucks, and private vehicles, as everyone tries to get where they're going just that much faster.

My gaze tracks west almost on auto-pilot. Wonder what Gale's doing... Is she still asleep, or—?

I yank myself forcefully back from the precipice of that dead-end drift.

The only thing that matters right now is getting Chris and Max (...Tariq could go fuck himself) back to the hotel and then getting 'cross town to Teterboro in time for scheduled departure.

Leo hadn't been joking when he'd said that Constantine would not hesitate to unleash a squadron of King's Guard on our tails if we didn't arrive back in Cordonia by the agreed time.

That had been the agreement.

Because the first event of the season kicks off tomorrow with the Masquerade Ball, and Chris has a full week's worth of engagements penciled into the twelve hours beforehand.

Which means that there can be zero deviations, zero slippages. We have to be on that plane...

...even though that's the last thing any of us want to do right now.

Because glancing back at Chris and Max as we make our way up back to the hotel, it's clear that New York has been a much-needed escape for both of them. Not just from the daily grind of court, but also from the strictures of expectation. As here, you weren't your name, or your title, or your birthright.

You were just another guy on the street, trying to make your American dream come true.

And despite — or rather, because of — their stations, that's a privilege that neither Chris nor Max have ever had the luxury of experiencing before. Because even though they may have all the money in the world, one thing they could not buy with it is freedom — true freedom. As money garnered expectations and expectations choked you out like chains around your neck.

And that was life's unfair trade-off...

...unless you were Leo, who somehow managed to screw the pooch into laying him a golden egg by finding a woman who was apparently not only worth abdicating for, but who also turned out to be loaded in her own right, thanks to a very generous inheritance provision in her grandmother's will.

And because that money came with zero strings attached, the lucky bastard got to have it all: living it up large, while also getting to flip the rules and regulations that he's always hated the bird.

But, unfortunately for the rest of us mere mortals who weren't born with the luck of the devil, the best we can hope for are those rare moments in between when the constraints of your usual life fall away, and you're rewarded with a much-needed breath of levity.

And maybe that's why I'd fallen so hard and fast for Gale. Because irrespective of the magnetic pull she had on me, she wasn't just some hot girl I'd happened to hit it off with. And while undeniable, the deep seated attraction went beyond the mere physical... or even the personal.

Because beyond the fact that she was gorgeous, funny, and knocked me for six at every turn, she was more than just simple perfection. She was the sweet promise of possibility. Tantalising me with a taste of what could've been in a world free of obligation. Where I was just me — not an undercover Guard, not a duty-bound friend to a prince, not a jaded outsider confined to the sidelines, always looking in.

But as entrancing as the experience had been, I know it couldn't last.

Because such moments are — by their nature — transient. And like a pre-dawn mist on the water, they dissolve with the first light of the sun.

Just like our time in the States.

Which means that it's time to return to reality. Whether we want to or not.

Because duty always calls.

Arriving back at the hotel, I see that the pre-arranged limo is already idling next to the curb.

Detouring by the driver's side window, I have a quick word with the chauffeur to let him know that we'll be back down in a sec with our bags.

Turning to lope into the hotel, I catch up with Chris and Max just as the lift arrives in the lobby. The doors ping open and we pile in to make our way up to our floor, each of us lost in our respective thoughts.

The elevator arrives on our booked-out floor and we disperse into our rooms to throw our shit together. While packing, I send a text to Schweitzer to let him know that we're bugging out, so his team can start the clean-up and check out.

Zipping my duffle up, I do one last sweep of the space before grabbing the keycard and exiting the room for the final time.

Stepping back out into the corridor as the door clicks shut behind me, I find Chris already waiting for a lift.

"You were quick," I say, coming to a stop next to him.

"Wasn't much to pack," he admits.

"Hayley still there?"

"Yes, she's sleeping," he confirms with a ghost of a smile. "I couldn't bring myself to wake her."

I nod wordlessly. Good-byes suck. They're either gut-wrenching, or awkward, or both. Best to just—

"Will...you be back?" "I wouldn't hold my breath." "Maybe I want to."

The ding of the elevator knocks me back into the present.

Shaking my head, I step into the car after Chris. But for some reason, I can't seem to duck the sudden sense of emptiness that's dropped into my guts. Like I'd forgotten something... Even though I know I haven't.

I rub my eyes. I'm just beat...

I'm about to hit the button for the lobby when Max careens in out of nowhere to throw himself through the wedge between the doors, Gucci backpack dangling haphazardly from his arm.

"Oh, thank God!" he pants, falling gracelessly into the small space. "Thought you'd left already!"

"We wouldn't dream of leaving without you, dear friend," Chris assures him with a laugh.

"Speak for yourself," I grunt abrasively as the doors finally close. "You fall behind, you get left behind."

Max's eyes widen. "You wouldn't!"

I meet his gaze impassively. "Try me."

"But Tariq—"

"—can find his own damn way home," I cut in flatly. "If he ain't buckled up by last and final call, that plane's not waiting for him."

Max flicks his horrified gaze from me to Chris.

Chris shrugs. "Drake is correct. It is unfortunately too short notice to modify the flight plan and—"

Throwing his head down, Max begins typing away furiously on his phone.

"You're wasting you're time, Beaumont," I tell him with a low exhale. "Regardless of where the fuck-wit is, he'll still need to come back to the hotel to get his passport, if nothing else. He ain't gonna make it."

"But we can't just abandon him!"

"He's a grown-ass man," I grunt dispassionately in response as we hit the ground floor again. "If he can't be bothered to look at his overpriced Rolex, then that's his problem. Not mine."

"Chances are he is waiting for us at the terminal already," advises Chris optimistically.

"But—"

"Drop it, Beaumont," I grunt, grabbing my duffel to march out of the elevator car without a backwards glance.

I have no clue why Max is being so hard up about waiting for the dipshit who wasn't even supposed to be on this trip in the first place. Especially since that same dipshit also happens to be in possession of a gold credit card.

So, I really couldn't give a flying fuck if Besnard missed the flight. He can pay for his own charter home.

I'm not about to jeopardise Chris' commitments for the benefit of a self-absorbed prick.

Exiting the lobby, I beat a straight line to the back of the waiting limo. The chauffeur spots my approach and scrambles to open the door, but I've already beaten him to it.

Popping the trunk, I toss my duffle in before making my way to the front to grab the shotgun seat while Chris and Max offload their own bags.

A slam of doors, a click of seatbelts and we're pulling out onto 57th St., only ten minutes behind schedule.

I try to settle down for the half-hour drive, but I find my knee jackhammering impatiently. I know we have plenty of time to spare before takeoff, but I hate running late. Even if it's only by a minute.

Because you never what kind of shit's gonna hit the fan — roadworks, lane closure, freeway pileup — and you can't mitigate if you ain't got any time in the bank.

I can only hope and pray that we don't run into any last-minute surprises on the 15 or so miles to the airport.

Chris strikes up some kind of conversation with the chauffeur, but I'm in no mood for small talk. Folding my arms, I try to tune out whatever it is they're saying by watching the skyscrapers flick past as we head west, then north to pick up the George Washington Bridge to Jersey.

And apart from a brief wait at the toll plaza on the other side of the Hudson, the journey passes quickly and uneventfully.

Arriving at the airport concourse, we exit the limo and make our way into the main terminal building. Luckily, at this time in the morning, there are not too many flights, so we pass through customs without any hang-ups...

...except for the fact that Max remains glued to his phone, obsessively-compulsively checking for texts from Tariq every two seconds, even as we board the jet.

"Have you tried calling him?" Chris asks as he stows his bag in preparation for the flight.

"At least ten times," confirms Max, glancing anxiously out the window in the over-keen hope that Tariq will magically appear.

"Maybe his phone ran out of battery..." offers Chris hopefully.

"More likely he got mugged," I grunt, falling into one of the leather seats.

Max throws me a disbelieving look. "That's a horrible—! Oh. You're actually serious..."

"Guy like him... Prime target," I reply dispassionately.

Max's face drains of colour. "We have to call the police!"

"And say what?" I snap abrasively. "That the bell-end got himself lost somewhere in Manhattan? They'll laugh us off the call."

"But—"

"If Tariq really is in trouble, he can hit up the Cordonian consulate," I declare uncompromisingly. "But it was his bright idea to throw a hissy fit and stomp off in the wrong direction when—"

"You ungrateful ingrates!"

My eyes snap past Max. "For fuck's sake..."

Tariq is stood in the doorway of the jet, looking like he'd literally battled his way through the nine levels of hell to get here. His over-gelled hair looks like it's been zapped with a Taser, his clothes are somehow drenched and filthy, and he's wearing only one shoe.

"Would it have killed you to wait?!" he shrieks, throwing his Louis Vuitton man-bag onto the closest seat.

"Yes..." I reply.

Tariq shoots me a murderous expression. But before he can open his mouth again, Max has crushed him into an over-eager bear hug.

"You made it!" he enthuses. He pulls back suddenly. "But why were you not picking up your phone? And also, why do you smell like a wet dog?"

"Because I was robbed!"

"Told ya," I smirk across the aisle at Chris.

"It's not funny!" shouts Tariq, jabbing an irate finger at me. "If you only knew of the horrors that I have been subjected to, you would think more than twice about making light of my plight!"

"Pretty sure I wouldn't..." I mutter with a roll of my eyes.

"What was that?" demands Tariq imperiously.

"Nothing," I grunt as a steward appears next to my seat.

"Can I interest you in a pre-flight refreshment?" she asks.

"Yeah, sure," I shrug.

She hands me something pink and bubbly in a champagne glass. "Enjoy!"

"I doubt it," I mutter, grabbing the flute to throw it back in one swig.

I grimace as the sour mix of grapefruit and Prosecco hits the back of my throat. But alcohol's alcohol, and at this point, I would've downed windscreen wash if it'd've helped drown out Tariq's high-pitched info dump of his trials and tribulations.

Kinda wish we had left the bastard behind...

But I couldn't seem to win on this trip, so I'm just going to have to suck up the next twelve-or-so hours locked up in an airtight fuselage with the bouchebag and pray that there's enough whiskey on board to keep me from choking him out.

Pulling my phone from my pocket to help distract myself, I shoot off one final text to Schweitzer to let him know that we've made it to the airport and we're about to take off.

I'm about to do the same for Bast when the over-taxed device finally gives up the ghost and the battery dies halfway through the text.

"Great..."

Reaching into my duffel with a sigh, I extract the phone's charging cable and plug it into the seat's USB port so it can get some life back while we're airborne.

As Tariq continues to piss and moan about nearly getting run over, having his phone stolen right out of his hand as he tried to call a cab — followed shortly thereafter by his watch — tripping and falling into an open excavation hole as he tried to chase after the pickpockets, the cabin crew shut the aircraft door and complete their final cross-checks in preparation for departure.

A quick intro from the captain, and the jet starts rolling. After a short taxi, we're out on the runway, where we idle for a couple of minutes waiting for the go from the tower.

As soon as we get it, the pilot revs the turbines and the jet lurches forward. We hurtle down the runway, wheels bouncing and jet engines whining before jumping into the air to start our climb to 41,000 feet.

Glancing out the window, I watch the ground fall away as we ascend over Jersey, my ears popping from the rapid altitude change.

The plane banks sharply to the right and I catch sight of the Manhattan skyscape...

...but there must've been something in the mimosa because I’ve crashed out before the plane fully levels off.

The story continues in Chapter 13 (Coming Soon)

A/N: As another little bonus, here is a pic of Chris in Times Square:

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Sleepless in New York only

@bebepac

Picture Credits: Breakfast - New York - Diner - Chris - Tariq

Max, Leo, and Drake were generated using the AI art app Wonder

42 notes · View notes

kio-may · 3 years ago

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Hello you amazing human being!! May i request hcs of the dorm leaders with a gn s/o who is a swordfighter who uses breathing techniques like in the anime demon slayer? (Btw if u havent watched demon slayer you can just do a normal swordfighter so dont worry :D) thank you 😊💕

RARARGYU this was my favorite !! Thank you for the request darling <3 i cut off malleus' part a bit 😭 so if you want please feel free to send in a request for him again

It's your calmness that attracts his attention

When he first sees you and your sword, he's intimidated but won't do anything much about it

But when you tell your friends stories and tales from your world about demons and the pillars, he's interested.

You live in such an unjust world? And still yearn to go back?

He's hesitant, but he starts to pay closer attention to you. He admires the amount of hardwork you put in

And after his Overblot, he remembers how gracefully and swiftly you dealt with it, your sword flowing in all kinds of ways he'd never seen before

He's almost like a kid, really. He won't admit it, but the way his eyes sparkle just the tiniest bit when you speak about your homeland or training and whatnot, really give it away.

He sometimes observes you practicing breathing techniques and once tried to follow along with you, asking you if he could also try it. But his face ended up red and he doubled over from the lack of practice.

He's always fascinated whenever you use these in combat practice.

He sometimes shares quiet moments with you in the rose garden, and both of you would be at peace. Sometimes he asks if he can look at your scars, and listens intently when you talk about their stories.

He won't admit it, but at some point he's wanted to know what it feels like to hold a sword. He sometimes traces his fingers over your sword and is in awe at it's color.

"It changes color based on the user? ..interesting"

He's absolutely smitten with the grace you exhibit when you're in combat, really.

He's also.. worried.

Are you sure you want to go back to such a grueling place? It's a bit hypocritical for him to ask but, don't you deserve to give yourself a break?

At night he holds you a bit closer,and when you have nightmares, his fingers play with your hair, and he listens to you sadly when you talk about your grievances. He can't do much, but a part of him wants to hold you so much more closer and keep you safe, and away from so much on your shoulders.

Worried, but also so fascinated.

It's your quiet strength that attracts his attention

He wouldn't pay much attention to you at first, but the more people talk about you, the more he's interested.

You slayed demons in your world? You've got guts.

He'll look at your uniform and be impressed. If he can, he'll even try on your haori

He likes seeing you practice, he'll observe you from far away. And he won't even have to see you in combat to know how skilled you are, he can tell.

He's very smug about being your s/o, really. He loves smothering you in affection knowing how goddamn powerful you are. Farena's wife got nothing on you KSKSSM

At night when he feels you squirming under him from nightmares, he'll gently wake you up. He'll give you space to process it and listen if you choose to tell him. He tenderly traces over your scars as you recall about witnessing someone's death.

He's.. disturbed. No wonder you get so many night terrors. He really respects how much you go through and endure in order to protect people. A part of him hopes you don't kill yourself in the process, and hopes you don't go back. He doesn't want to lose you for sure.

He's eerily impressed by how fast you move. Swifty and quietly, but you manage to take down opponents at least 4× bigger than you.

He loves when you use your breathing techniques and draw your blade. He likes watching you cleanly pierce through combat dummies. It satisfies his eyes for some reason.

"You're stronger than you seem."

He doesn't appear interested, although, he will ask you about the pillars from time to time. He wants to learn so much more about your origins, and your decisions. He'll ask about the ones he's confused about; how'd the butterfly hashira manage to become so strong? He's interested in the ones he can't understand very well.

Will talk shit about Muzan with you if you want. He'll make jokes and make fun of whatever appearances he has.

Absolutely loves when you put on your entire uniform.

Your stories of another world catch his eye

At first he's terrified of you. You slayed demons? Those things that eat people and surpass human limits by a great deal?

He won't approach you straight away, but he'll have Jade and Floyd keep an eye on you.

But after you both are in a relationship, he's in a constant daze.

He's very happy about having someone like you as his s/o, proud even, the occasional insecurities creep in but he's so confused about he was able to get someone like you

Admires your strength so much, and always praises you after practice sessions.

Sometimes in quiet moments when you two are alone and in private spaces, he'll mumble out asking if he can touch your muscles. If you ask him to repeat,he'll be flustered at the thought and ask you to forget it. Do let him touch them though KWJSKQ he's very red when you offer him to feel your arm

He traces over your scars and whispers a lot of heartwarming appreciation sometimes. He'll look at you and a glance at the scars littered on your arm, and his gaze feels more tender and pitiful. He empathizes a lot if you feel like your scars are ugly, and reassures you quite often that they're not.

Almost cries with you when you talk about your grievances.

He doesn't want you to go back to your own world. He knows it's selfish, but he can't help it.

He'll only watch from afar as you practice. He's not the most athletic, so he won't dare to try what you do, but he's interested in what you can offer. He'll ask you tips on strengthening your own body and your experiences with it, and he'll try, but he acknowledges he won't be getting to your level anytime soon, even with the added advantage of magic. He chooses to admire from afar

Very interested in your sword. A nichirin blade that changes color based on it's user? Eye catching indeed. He'll study it's properties, and if you somehow have a useless spare one,he's more than happy to take it. He's interested in nichirin swords and maybe even tries to search for ways to modify yours. It may even give him an insight on what properties demons might possess.

"Ah, there's a dent right here."

Loves feeling your haori. He thinks it's a very honorable clothing item, and treats it with a lot of care.

Your subtle kindness draws him in

At first he doesn't realise how powerful you are ー he's just happy to have you as his partner!

But the more he listens to your stories, the more he's entranced by your strength

"That was amazing!"

He's like a kid, bouncing up and down and wanting to know so much more about the pillars, about your battles and journies, your friends, everything! He's soaking up every word he can when you mention your world.

Always calls demons the 'poopy guys' /hj

He'll ask if it's okay to wear your haori, and then proceeds to wear it all the time. Sometimes you wonder if he wears it more than you do. He just loves the feeling of it! It feels like a very monumental achievement just wearing it.

He sometimes holds your sword and carefully waves it around a bit, his eyes sparkling in wonder. He's enthralled by the experience of holding a sword of a seasoned warrior.

He's so proud of you! And being your s/o. He always hugs you after he plays around with your sword a bit.

He hugs you very close at night, and makes sure you're very comfortable. He wants to assure your safety in this world, and he sympathizes with your night terrors. He wants to prevent them before they happen,and always prioritizes your comfort. When you have nightmares, he'll gently rub his hands on your back as you cave into him. He listens to you and calms you down the best he can. He'll try to get your mind off of things and even offer to take you on rides on his magic carpet.

He'll sometimes ask to see your scars, and stare at them in wonder for a solid 12 minutes before telling you how cool they are and how badass they make you look.

He's so excited every time you practice breathing techniques and whatnot, cheers his lungs out everytime you smash or accidentally break the training dummies. He's as tired as you after your training sessions, but he's just too amazed not to celebrate.

He admires your grace in strength

At first he thought you were just a mindless brute

But after you both actually became official, boy did he find out he was wrong

He won't admit it, but he's slightly icky about how off point he was about you.

He's.. unsettled when you talk about the harsh conditions of your world. He's concerned about how you managed to survive. He will however, deeply respect you, whether or not you make the decision to back.

He often longingly gazes at your scars with tender,and usually in private. These are usually the moments where you tell him about some of your more intimate scars ー the ones you'd gotten in battles where someone dear was lost. And his touch feels all the more fragile and warm on your skin.

He often asks you to put on your uniform, he finds it very intriguing. He likes seeing you in it, and sometimes modifies it.

"The uniform isn't as bland as I expected"

Adores your haori.

Offers to get you different designed ones aswell. He loves how it suits you.

He's not often around to witness it, but he sometimes hears, and even sees you, teaching Epel and helping him get stronger. Your determination and will is something he finds endearing.

He's going hysterical at the rough skin of your hands, from all the time spent on sharpening your skin; he's going to faint from the rough texture. Always harried when forcing you to apply moisturizer to your skin. He's like a fretting panicked mother hen.

While both of you are doing your routines, he likes to ask you about stories from your world. He likes to listen to stories about great hashiras, the sun hashira, Muzan, and whatnot. He listens intently and he's annoyed by Muzan.

Very proud of you,actually. You managed to survive in those conditions,and grew stronger each battle. That's not something everyone can achieve, and he has such a fond smile when he tells you that.

When you have nightmares, he wakes you up and firmly (but gently) places a hand on your shoulder. He'll help you ground back down if you have a hard time processing the nightmare. He'll listen to you, hold you close and bury you in his chest while you talk or cry about it. He'll kiss your forehead and offer to change the topic if you want,and he'll talk about anything until you're peacefully asleep again.

He really loves the way you move when you're going through your breathing forms. He finds the gracefulness in it beautiful and his attention is always on you when you practice them.

His perspective on people who use swords have changed a bit ever since you've arrived. He's always regarded using swords as rough and very.. unsightly and loud in a way (ahem, sebek). But seeing you handle it in such a powerful way makes him think it's not that bad of a weapon, it's just the user.

He's terrified part 3 or sumn

It was probably Ortho who brought you to him,and he almost pissed his pants

He knew those scars were no joke.

And when you two actually became official?

He was basically floating in outer space

He thinks you're like a game character! Maybe you could even be one of the main characters of a game he plays. The outfit, cool katana, the theme, everything about you is very admirable!

Often asks Ortho to watch over you when you're alone and no one else is around. He's worried about you in subtler ways.

He listens in intrigue and shock when you talk about your world.

He admires the people you talk about a lot, and often wonders what it would be like to live in such a place (absolutely terrified of the thought).

He admires your determination and strength, he could never come so close.

Often, he sneaks glances at your scars. He won't ask you about them, even if it kills him, but he'll look at them and wonder how you got each one. You'll have to reassure him and explain a few to him if you want him to feel comfortable asking about them. And even then he won't verbally really ask you,but steal a few glances at them.

He loves,loves and I mean LOVES your haori. He'd compare it to several characters and be so happy about it for some reason. I just have a feeling he's absolutely enthralled by your haori. He thinks it's so pretty and vibrant. Just fascinated by it overall.

When you have nightmares at night, he won't know what to do, but he's going to try. He knows he's not the best with words, so he hugs you close and rests his forehead on yours. You can vent or cry about what happened, or you dont have to do anything. He guides your hands through his hair ー and although they're fire, they're warm and glow dim against your hand. Gentle and welcoming, they are soothing. He doesn't speak but rather gives you space to. He hugs you firmly and unless you want to be left alone he'll keep his grip on you slightly firm in an assuring manner.

When Ortho is accompanying you outside, he asks if he can record you practicing and whatnot. He loves seeing you go crazy with breathing techniques and smashing all the training dummies. It's super amazing to him, and sometimes he rewatches old clips of you using your breathing techniques in complete awe. He is lucky to have you by his side.

"That was very flashy…"

It's a 50/50 on how he approaches your katana

Either he's scared shitless about it, or he's slightly obsessing over it everytime you leave it unattended

He asks you, barely above a whisper if he can touch it. He's over the moon when he gets a feel of the sword.

Your calm nature intrigues him

He's interested in anyone who approaches him tbh

When you two enter a relationship, that's when he starts asking questions

It's only when either both of you are very close friends or are very intimate that he starts asking about scars and your past. He understands being from such a harsh world has it's own sensitive matters which have affected you, and respects it.

He'll listen when you talk about the hashiras, the sun hashira, muzan, demons, your family, etc.. and he'll ponder deeply about it before asking more questions. He won't comment much on it but rather is interested in what you feel about it

There's a low sort of anger in him when you talk about everyone who's hurt your dearest. He can't explain it,but a part of him hopes he can at least lend a hand to you by your side if he can come to your world.

He traces over your scars at night, and holds you a bit closer.

He's seen a lot of things, and has heard about a lot of people, but you have definitely left a sort of mark on him. You've changed the way he sees things,and you make him more appreciative of their more peaceful world.

When you cry or vent at night about memories that haunt you, he's there. His eyes are on you, and his hands hold yours. He doesn't budge. Listens to you until you are too tired to speak, and comforts you while scooping you into his embrace. It takes him a while to get used to comforting you, but when he's used to it, he's so warm and gentle it boggles your mind. He holds you close and talks about anything else, until his voice soothes you to sleep.

He likes to trace the patterns on your haori. It gives him a strange calming sensation

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tanakavox · 3 years ago

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Cinder was quietly reading in her room, currently engrossed in a dramatic scene that had her caught up in her own little world...

Jaune: *Muffled* “OOOOOH, CINDER!~”

...Only to have it completely shatter and crumble as her concentration was broken at the annoying call of her twin brother. She huffed to herself in annoyance as she put her book mark in place, and started to make her way to his room scowling the entire way. She made her way in, only to grimace in disgust as her brother sat in his chair in front of his Tv, wearing only a pair of boxers and a wife beater and a pair of socks as he was currently engrossed in whatever stupid game he was playing.

Cinder: *Scowling* “What, do you wa-!”

Cinder didn’t even get to finish her question, before she was blatantly interrupted by her brother.

Jaune: “Ah, ah!~ Your tone? Can’t say I care for it Cindy. And as I recall, you’re supposed to greet me in a very specific way as part of our agreement.”

At this, Cinder’s eyes narrowed in anger and her hands balled so tightly into fists that her skin was turning bone white.

Cinder: *Forcefully* “Jaune, if you think for even a moment that I’d even so much as consider to lower myself to even uttering such an idiotic thing, so help me I’ll-!”

Cinder's threat was cut off as Jaune swiftly pulled out his scroll and pulled up a video in one smooth motion, smirking the entire time as the contents were revealed. We see Cinder in her room, dressed in a magical girl outfit with a red trim on the skirt and collar, a blue bow on her chest and she was wearing a golden headband with a red gym in the middle. Posing in a dramatic fashion, she began to speak with fire and passion in her voice.

Cinder: “The fire of passion and the power of prayer will defeat evil ! I’m Sailor Mars, of the red high heel ! In the name of Mars, I chastise you !”

Cinder paused as she looked upon the video with a horrified look, her whole face flushing bright red in embarrassment and her mouth frozen in shock.

Jaune: *Smugly* “So uh, would you care to rephrase what you were about to say… Sailor Mars?”

Shock and embarrassment swifty turned into rage and hate as Cinder shot Jaune a hateful glare, the intensity and heat enough to melt solid steel. Jaune returned her glare with an expected look, his smirk widening as he patiently awaited his sister to speak up. After a tense silence, Cinder clinched her eyes shut, taking in a deep and steadying breath before her eyes shot open with a hateful look as she began to speak through gritted teeth,

Cinder: *Grit Teeth* “Oh Great and Powerful Jaune! Who is better than me in Everything and Every way! How may I, your lesser twin, be of service to you today?”

Cinder had looked like she had swallowed lemo, hating the fact that she had been forced to spew out such absolute, vile, bunk! Jaune merely smiled happily at his sister's reaction, before putting his scroll away and gesturing towards his feet.

Jaune: “See? Now was that so hard Cindy? As for what I want? Well, I would like you to take my socks off.”

Cinder wanted nothing more than to set her twin on fire, and watch him flail around the room screaming as he tried to put the flames out while she watched with a sadistic smile. Alas, she could only dream of such sadistic punishments in her head, and as she lowered herself to take Jaune socks off, she glowered at him one last time and bitterly hissed out a single statement:

Cinder: “I hate you so much right now.”

Jaune: *Brightly* “Love you too Cindy!”

#rwby #rwby au #rwby fanfic #cinder #rwby cinder fall #rwby cinder #cinder fall #rwby jaune arc #rwby jaune #jaune arc #arcfall siblings #arcfall twins #rwby sibling au #siblings au

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bybdolan · 2 years ago

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Celebrity culture is so weird I saw a Tiktok a couple weeks ago about the adad Levine thing making a list of the next husbands that were gonna have a cheating scandal and they're reason were ridiculous like Joe Jonas just because Sophie and him can be that happy or Ryan Gosling because he wants everyone to think he's super nice and eats to keep his family private and other stupid claims like that about people with no valid arguments and all the comments were agreeing and saying they are dying to see it and it's just so sad the way they treat famous people just because they are rich or whatever, someone was claiming that Taylor saying she sometimes doesn't feel like a real person was just whining because she has the money to pay for the best psychologist, like what?

Long-ish answer under the cut because I'm also going to talk about the ask @youareworldsaway sent me.

re your post: its not even just like relationships you see it with people being papped or at award shows or interviews or red carpets. One second captured on camera and the whole world decides what your feeling. Like at Venice with Harry and Olivia sure they didnt interact as much but there are moments but since they didnt go viral everyone was just like “oh they broke up.” Like Joe apparently always looks miserable with Taylor when that could just be his resting face (i can relate my resting face i apparently look sad!) i find it odd we base an entire thought process on someone for .1 second we see them. And like yeah taylor was smiling during 1989 but she was also going through a hard time. How people show themselves as well isnt an accurate description of what they are going through. Human beings are complex! we have good and bad days. Idk i have so many thoughts on this and how swifties in general will make taylors feelings a monolith “shes depressed” or “shes the happiest shes ever been” (ask by @youareworldsaway)

You guys both expanded on the points I was making in the original post very eloquently and probably better than I could so thank you!!! I know that my empathy for celebrities is not something everybody feels and understandably so, but it just seems so HARD to be that surveilled all the time and have people pry apart your every move. The way people will dissect some celebrity videos is honestly disgusting to me because nothing seems more terrifying than a stranger using a moment of vulnerability as ammo to spread rumors about you. It's obviously not a direct treat to your life, but it is tough and scary and just seems super stressful. And it bleeds into the way regular people think about their relationships, too. A recent example is the whole Try Guys shabang where suddenly people were led to believe that it was a red flag when guys talked about their wives a lot, when there is a huge difference between your buddy Craig doing this and Ned Fulmer, who has made loving his wife part of his brand and thus his job and livelihood, saying it. Plus: We only get the tiiiniest look into these people's lives! We don't know them! They are frequently pretending!

#ask #youareworldsaway #anonymous #'they are frequently pretending' would be a great title. keeping it in mind

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kaylor · 3 years ago

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do we think miss taylor is gonna go hard on marketing for the 1989 'boy muse' the way she did a la Red w/ Jake ??? Like is she gonna include songs with extra *information* about mr styles just to really stir that marketing campaign? we gonna get some more tidbits and anecdotes such as...dare i say it... keychains on the ground??? Or will she strategically hold back because that mans fans are as deranged as hers and she knows not to poke that bear ????? mr gylenaals and his SISTERS comments were flooded with the most dumb most egregious most stupid comments from swifties...like surely shes not gonna play that game with mr styles because his fans will hit back u kno?? they don't play just like my good sis tree pain should know twitter stans don't play, they literally dox each other?????? he is their *harry stans* husband and father, she is their *swifties* mother and wife (cue: vomit)??? they are equal in terms of the extreme parasocial relationships carefully curated with their fans. so....miss americana and mr 'hi im harry im 16 and i work in a bakery' fandom war revival in 2022????

please even just reading this is giving me heart palpitations i cannot go through another haylor war im not strong enough.

i don't like to think i can predict her marketing moves because she's fucking insane actually and her silly little jake gyllenhaal smack cam music video was uh, i mean. it definitely uhhh. that man is still very much in the closet and i reckon they came to some kind of deal that meant he gets some publicity, she gets a stab at the oscars (LOL GIRL) etc etc.

i don't think harry and his team are going to be quite as receptive to a similar play... he's got one foot in and one foot out and they've both been Very happy to mutually ignore each other for a decade and pretend it never happened. even the marketing for 1989 at the time took a sharp u-turn after the initial rolling stone interview where she insinuated style spoke for itself or something. she very quickly pivoted to a more Feminism Girl Power angle and he was simply never mentioned again. so uh, not sure she wants to drag all that back up again because she was absolutely SLATED during haylor last time, and we know she hates not unequivocally being the Victim. so for now my prediction is no she won't risk the wrath of the harries, there's too many factors out of her control.

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path-of-my-childhood · 4 years ago

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Aaron Dessner Talks Taylor Swift’s New Album folklore

By: Sam Sodomsky for Pitchfork Date: July 24th 2020

Like millions of people across the world, Taylor Swift spent the past few months in isolation, stuck at home, changing plans, reflecting on the past, and imagining new connections. One of those new connections was with Aaron Dessner, the multi-instrumentalist and producer from the National.

On release day, he called us from his home in the Hudson Valley to speak about their entirely virtual but highly collaborative process, sounding just as surprised as anyone. “Nobody needs to tell Taylor Swift how to write a song - and I certainly didn’t,” he says with a laugh. “But it did feel like we were going toe-to-toe pushing each other.”

What is your personal relationship with Taylor Swift’s music? I’ve always admired her craftsmanship and talent. But 1989 was the first one I was really listening to as a fan. My brother [Bryce Dessner, guitarist in the National] and I were in Iceland with [performance artist] Ragnar Kjartansson, and he’s a total Swiftie. It was the summer of 1989, and we’d be hanging out listening to it loud. Ragnar is an art historian, so he was just contextualizing every moment. It was a lot of fun. That’s when we became bigger fans.

When did you actually meet her for the first time? We met her at Saturday Night Live in 2014 when Lena Dunham was hosting. And then she came to see us play last summer in Prospect Park during this crazy torrential downpour. She was there with Antoni [Porowski] from Queer Eye. She talked a lot with my brother and me. That’s when we realized how much of a fan she was, and how lovely and down to earth. I don’t know that many people who have that sort of success, so it’s a nice feeling to realize they’re cool. That left a good impression.

She got in touch again at the end of April. I got a text and it said, “Hey it’s Taylor. Would you ever be up for writing songs with me?” I said, “Wow. Of course.” It was a product of this time. Everything we had planned got cancelled. Everything she had planned got cancelled. It was a time when the ideas in the back of your head came to the front. That’s how it started.

You ended up with a credit on 11 of the 16 songs. How did the collaboration get going? At the very beginning of March, Justin Vernon and I had gone to Texas to work on the new Big Red Machine album. I had been living with my family in France as COVID was starting to spiral out of control in Europe. I said to my wife that maybe they should come back to the States with me because I was worried about getting separated. So we got tickets, and my kids and wife flew to [the family’s home in] Upstate New York and I flew to Texas. I was there for a week, and by the time I got back Upstate, the borders were being shut and we got stuck. I have the Long Pond studio here, so in a way it was lucky.

I hunkered down here and started to write a ton of music - more than I ever have. I thought maybe they were National or Big Red Machine ideas or maybe something totally different. Things were happening.

So when [Taylor] reached out, I had this large folder of ideas that were pretty well on their way. She was very clear that she didn’t want me to edit any of my ideas; she wanted to hear everything that was interesting to me at this moment, including really odd, experimental noise. So I made a folder of stuff, including some pretty out-there sketches. A few hours later, she sent “Cardigan,” fully written in a voice memo. That’s when I realized that this was unusual—just the focus and clarity of her ideas. It was pretty astonishing. Over the next couple months, this would just happen; all of a sudden, I’d get a voice memo. And then another. Eventually, it was so inspiring that I wrote more ideas that were specifically in response to what she was writing.

When did it occur to you that an album was forming? There were moments when we started to reflect on what we were doing. The first three songs we wrote were “Cardigan,” “Seven,” and “Peace.” “Cardigan” is probably the closest to a pop song on the record—it’s this epic narrative. And then “Seven” was this nostalgic, wistful, emotional folk song. And then when she wrote “Peace,” I realized she can do anything! She is so versatile. It’s just a harmonized bassline with a pulse and a drone, and she basically wrote a Joni Mitchell love song to it. She only did one vocal take, and that’s what’s on the record.

Were you communicating through the whole process? Yeah. We were pretty much in touch daily for three or four months by text and phone calls. Some of it was about production and restructuring things but a lot of it was just excitement. We both felt that this was some of the best work we have done. That was a strange and surreal thing to have happen, especially at this time.

At one point I was randomly doxxed by right-wing conspiracy theorists who misidentified me as an Antifa organizer in Ohio, long story, but it was in the middle of all this work. I didn’t want to stress her out so I didn’t tell her. But at some point she laughed and said, “So you’re a notorious anarchist?” And I’m like, “Yeah, I was gonna mention that."

How did the collaboration with Bon Iver on “Exile” come about? Taylor wrote that one with the singer-songwriter William Bowery. When Taylor sent it to me as a voice memo, she sang both the male and female parts - as much as she could fit in without losing her breath. We talked about who she was imagining joining her, and she loves Justin [Vernon]’s voice in Bon Iver and Big Red Machine. She was like, “Oh my god, I would die if he would do it. It would be so perfect.” I didn’t want to put pressure on Justin as his friend, so I said, “Well, it depends on if he’s inspired by the song but I know he thinks you’re rad.” Which he does.

So I sent him the song and he was really into it. He tweaked some parts and added parts as well - the bridge where he says, “Step right out.” The end too, and his choral parts. It was fun because Justin and I work on a lot of stuff together, so it was very easy and natural. At some point I felt like a superfan, hearing two of my favorite singers. This was all being done remotely, but it was one of those moments where your head hits the back of the wall and you’re like, “Fuck. Okay.”

There is some fan debate over William Bowery’s identity - I’m not familiar with him. I’m not either. I haven’t actually met him because of social distancing, which is kind of funny. I think he’s a friend.

Did you feel the pressure of working with an artist at Taylor Swift’s level? I tried hard not to think about the scope or scale of making a record that would be heard by millions and millions of people. I did a pretty good job of tuning that out. Music for me is an emotional necessity. It’s therapy. It’s what I live and breathe. All these songs are things I was working on already, and we both felt there was some serendipity in the fact that we ended up in this situation together. I just stayed focused on that, on making this as good as we can.

As the release got closer, I almost thought it wouldn’t happen. Or maybe I just told myself that! The National guys will tell you the same thing - I tend to work until the last possible minute. I didn’t really have a moment to be like, “Holy shit! People are gonna hear this.” We were joking about it last night. I said, “So this actually happened?” And she goes, “Yep!”

What was it like working under total secrecy? There was no outside influence at all. In fact, nobody knew, including her label, until hours before it was launched. For someone who’s been in this glaring spotlight for 15 years, it’s really liberating to have some privacy and work on her own terms. She deserves that. At times, if I wanted friends to play on the record, it was a little difficult because you can’t send a file with her vocals. But everyone was cool. At the end, I reached out to some wizards just to add bits, and that was nice. It was kind of fun: “What? Why can’t you tell me, Aaron?” Then they start guessing. Everyone made a game out of it.

Is there any music that was left on the cutting room floor? There are things I feel could still be songs. It does feel like an ongoing collaboration. Now Taylor is starting to help with other things. We’re bouncing other ideas off each other, whether it’s Big Red Machine or other things. There’s a community aspect. I think that’s how music should be.

#the anarchist comment...please lmao =)#also this could mean she is writing for Bon Iver? or their side projects? now THAT I wouldn't mind at all #Aaron Dessner #interview #about taylor #taylor swift #pitchfork #folklore era #folklore album #release week

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ts1989fanatic · 5 years ago

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@ts1989fanatic

About me/us

My name is Martin but family and friends (including Tumblr friends) call me Vince. The wonderful LADY in the picture with myself is is my beautiful wife of 37 years Kat.

I love too cook always have just love to play around with and experiment with new recipes, I’m also an avid reader primarily science fiction but I love a good thriller also.

Love a good TV cop drama my favourite is Law & Order SVU used to make my daughter and granddaughter when she lived with us as a teenager watch as a life lesson.

And yes I am that old at 61 I even have great grandchildren (don’t even go there) both my daughter and grand daughter despite our best efforts started young.

I’m an ex British serviceman who met and then married my wife in Canada, we then moved to London England for ten years before moving back to Canada in 1992. We now live on Vancouver Island in British Columbia and they can bury me here.

My musical taste runs the gamut from rock to pop and from artists ranging from Taylor Swift obviously too Queen (my first ever concert at 16) but I really love powerful female artists. Some of who I have seen in concert Tina Turner, Madonna, Sheena Easton who was the opener for Michael Jackson.

My daughter once asked me why I like Taylor so much and it was difficult for her to understand it’s not just that she’s a fantastic singer songwriter but an incredible person beyond the music. I guess to really understand about Taylor the person you have to get beyond the tabloid image of her too realize it goes way beyond the music.

As a swiftie I often feel almost sorry for those who can’t or won’t get beyond that tabloid image.

I was very fortunate to marry a country music fan who introduced me to Love Story way back when Kat and I have plenty in common when it comes too music, but the biggest one is

Era when I moved from a low key Taylor Swift fan too a fanatic (see my URL) 1989 many many reasons for that covered in previous posts and far too long to go into here. Suffice it to say 1989 was and always will be that album.

This was also the one and only time we have seen Taylor in concert in Vancouver BC the only concert that comes close was Shania Twain we went too the Up tour also in Vancouver Shania was great Taylor was Taymazing.

1989 also gave me my favourite Taylor song ever with Wildest Dreams Lover came close to replacing it but not quite.

Taylor inspired me too step out of my comfort zone at the start of the 1989 era and to be brave enough to join SM not something I had ever even thought about before then, I tried Twitter first and that was just too much drama for my taste and that’s how I ended up on Tumblr.

March 5th 2015 is when I started this blog and I had no clue what I was doing (still don’t a lot of the time) so I started out just reposting swifties tour costumes seat # and show dates meet and greet pictures and it took off from there.

May 21st 2015 Taylor followed and I did not even notice until I started getting all these congratulations messages and no idea why. Someone had to point it out to me (Duh) how could you not see that notification.

Four plus years later my blog has grown way beyond my Wildest Dreams (sorry had to) we still have not seen Taylor in concert again reputation did not come to Western Canada and it was far too expensive for us to travel same applies for Lover even if there were tickets available travelling to California is out of our budget, but we live in hope for future tours coming back to Vancouver.

My message to Taylor

I want to thank you not only for the wonderful music you brought into my life, but also for inspiring me too try new things and meet online and in real life some amazing people. Without Tumblr I would never have me Tracey @worldsoldestswiftie (she’s not I married that one) and at a time when my wife was having life threatening surgery the lady who helped me keep my sanity Courtney Addison @nurseaddison there where multiple times that day that she talked me off the ledge Kat and I will be forever grateful for that.

You have brought a lot of joy into my life through your music and through your examples on how to be a little nicer and a little kinder too others, it costs nothing and makes me happy too be there for others.

So thank you Taylor

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the--sad--hatter · 6 years ago

Text

Paired Up - Chapter Two (Bucky x Reader)

Chapter 2/5

Previous Chapter

FANDOM - Marvel MCU

PAIRING - Bucky X Reader

WARNINGS - Smut, Swearing, Alcohol

DESCRIPTION -

If only you had known that Bucky knew sign language...

If only Steve Rogers wasn't such an evil mastermind...

If only you weren't stuck in a loveless (fake) marriage with the man you hated...

If only your hormones weren't so traitorous...

If only...

Chapter Two

You dragged your suitcase into the common room and after checking that it was only Sam in there, dramatically flung yourself onto the sofa.

“I’m a good person, I don’t deserve this.” You whined petulantly into the couch cushions.

“You’re an ex-mercenary…” Sam pointed out, turning away from the tv.

“Emphasis on the Ex.” You rebutted, sitting up.

“Still, maybe this is Karma.” He suggested.

“Nothing I have ever done warrants being married to Bucky ‘I’ll make your life a living hell’ Barnes.” You gasped, feigning offense.

“True, true.” Sam said, nodding in agreement.

“I can’t believe that nobody told me he understood sign language.” You sighed, remembering the awful moment that your life had come crashing down around you.

“It wasn’t that bad, you just said he was pretty. You can think people and pretty and still hate them with every fibre of your being. Taylor Swift is pretty, I still hate her.” Sam consoled.

“Sam… It’s just me here… You can admit you’re a Swifty.” You snorted.

“Her songs are catchy ok?” He said defensively and you held up your hands in mock surrender.

“You’ve got a point though. So what if I objectively think he’s pretty? It’s not like he caught me saying anything truly embarrassing.”

“Like the fact you walked into a wall when you saw him working out shirtless in the gym?” Sam asked.

“One time Wilson and we agreed to never speak of it again.” You grumbled.

“Or that you’ve had at least three vivid sex dreams about him?” He continued.

“I need to stop telling you stuff.” You said.

“Remember the time you crawled through archive footage of him from the 40’ so you could do a side by side comparison of his ass to see if it was a super soldier thing?” Sam carried on, ignoring you.

“That was for science! The great mystery of Bucky’s Booty.” You insisted.

“And?”

“It’s not the serum, Barnes just has an amazing ass.” You told him, sighing.

“You think I have an amazing ass?”

Yet again, your heart stopped. You slowly turned around, like you were in a horror movie to see Bucky leaning against the doorframe casually and smirking at you.

“How long have you been standing there?” You whispered fearfully.

“Long enough to know I need to look into getting a restraining order against you.” He said flatly.

“Oh no.” You groaned.

“All this time, I thought you hated me and it turns out that you’re my biggest fan.”

“I am NOT, I’m just a fan of….”

“My ass?”

“Did you know he was there?” You demanded, turning back around to look at… an empty chair?

“Oh, I hate him.” You snapped.

“Do you? Or are you secretly harbouring a crush on him and stalking him in your free time?” Bucky asked.

“Dreaming about someone isn’t stalking them!” You defended yourself.

“You dream about me?” He asked, grinning like he’d just won the lottery and you belatedly realised that he hadn’t actually heard that part of the conversation.

“About killing you.” You quickly said.

“Is that the only thing you dream about?” He asked lowly, leaning closer to you.

You fixed him with a glare that usually had enemies running scared but he didn’t so much as blink.

“I will stab you, I swear I will.” You vowed.

“I didn’t figure you were into knife play but whatever gets you off doll.” He quipped and you made a low noise of disgust.

He chuckled and pulled a couple of fake passports out of his pocket and tossed one at you.

“Nat had these done. Apparently we are now Johnny and Lola Rogers from Brooklyn New York. We are madly in love, newly married and on our honeymoon. So, wifey, shall we go?” He asked, standing up and offering you his hand.

You’d been briefed, you were packed and the quinjet was waiting. There was no more stalling to be had. You ignored his outstretched hand and got up, grabbing your suitcase and storming away.

“Allow me darling.” He said and grabbed your suitcase from you, lifting it up like it weighed nothing.

You flipped him off and meandered slowly behind him, trying to draw out the short walk outside.

“You guys ready to go?” Steve called as you walked up to the Quinjet.

You glared at the Captain and steadfastly ignored him.

“Hey Nat, are you still an assassin? I’ll pay you to kill me right now.” You called as you walked up the ramp.

“Why bother when you’re about to suffer such a slow and amusing death?” She responded, smirking at you and settling into the co-pilots seat next to Clint.

You walked around the sports car that had been parked in the jet and took a seat beside it, choosing to ignore all your so called ‘friends’ since they were taking so much joy in your misery. You narrowed your eyes at Steve and Bucky who were having a hushed conversation as they walked onboard. Steve passed something to Bucky and the brunette super soldier immediately came over you and knelt in front of you and cleared his throat, holding up the wedding band.

“Will you…” He began.

“Just fucking give it to me.” You snarled, snatching it off of him while Steve, Clint and Natasha chuckled.

“So romantic. You’ve really made me the happiest man alive.” He scoffed.

You growled in annoyance and decided to sit in the car instead, climbing into the passenger seat and slamming the door closed. You already knew everything you needed to know about the mission, so there was no need to suffer through any more extended proximity to Bucky. Instead, you could sit and stew in the car.

After about fifteen minutes of reliving the series of embarrassing events in which he’d found out about your pesky appreciation for his physical attributes you started to nod off, until someone knocked on the car window. You opened your eyes to see his annoyingly handsome face and rolled down the window.

“What?” You asked shortly.

“Saw you were falling asleep, so I came to remind you not to have anymore dirty dreams about me. We’ve got company.” He said, winking at you.

You gave him a cold look and put the window back up. He chuckled and opened the door to your exclamation od surprise and indignation.

“Here.” He said, shoving his wadded up coat behind your head as a make-shift pillow and slamming the door closed again.

You frowned at his retreating figure in befuddlement. Since when was he thoughtful?

Well, since when was he thoughtful towards you? You put it down to nothing more than him getting in character and closed your eyes again, letting yourself drift back off to sleep. You were so tired you didn’t wake up when the jet landed, or when Bucky got in the drivers side or when he started the car and drove it down the ramp. You didn’t wake up until you were approaching the luxury ski resort.

“Hnnmphgh.” You muttered as something flicked you on the cheek.

“Darling wake up, we’re here.” Bucky said loudly and you opened your eyes to see his hand, flicking at your face.

“Fuck off Barnes.”

“Johnny… and we’re in love so be a bit nicer to me.” He chuckled.

“Ugh, I will. When we get there and not a second before.” You decreed.

He pulled up at the main entrance and an actual team of bellboys descended on the car. You got out at the same time he did, tossing the keys to a bellboy/valet.

“Action.” You said under your breath and turned to him with a dazzling smile.

“Baby, it’s even more gorgeous than the brochure!” You said excitedly as he came around the car and put his arm around your waist.

“Only the best for my beautiful wife.” He said, gazing down at you like a man who was really in love.

“Mr and Mrs Rogers, welcome to Chedi Andermatt. Congratulations on your marriage.” One of the men said and you and Bucky turned to him with matching smiles.

“Thankyou, we’re very happy. Well I am at least, are you happy my love?” Bucky asked, looking at you.

“So happy, happiest I’ve ever been in my life! Why wouldn’t I be?” You gushed.

“Well we hope you enjoy your stay, and thank you for choosing to share this experience with us. Mrs Rogers would you like to wait in the lounge with a complimentary glass of champagne while your husband finishes checking you in and we have your bags sent up to your room?”

“Go on sweetheart, I’ll be right there.” Bucky said, pushing you towards the lounge.

“Don’t leave me alone for long Johnny, I’ll miss you.” You said, blowing him a kiss.

You heard his fake, convincing laugh as you accepted the champagne and settled in front of the fireplace on the lounge chair. You looked around in awe and wide eyed wonder, or at least that’s what anyone watching you would think. You were mentally mapping the layout and studying the staff. Satisfied with your findings, you sipped the champagne.

You’d only been playing your role for a few minutes and you already felt ill. Alcohol was a necessity at this point. You stood up and moved closer to the fire, grateful for the warmth. A pair of arms snaked around your waist and despite the highly convincing flesh glove over his hand, you could feel the stiff, unyielding metal.

“Von Straughten checked in yesterday morning, he’s in room 24.” Bucky whispered, nuzzling into your neck.

You shivered in the fake lovers embrace and he of course noticed. You felt his smirk where his lips were pressed into your neck.

“And what room are we in?” You asked.

“The Furka suite.” He informed you, releasing you and offering you his arm.

“Ooh fancy.” You said quietly, linking your arm with his.

You passed your empty glass to a dutiful member off staff was hanging around as Bucky led you towards the elevator. All the way to the room you played the part you’d been assigned, leaning your head on his shoulder as the elevator ascended. The second he unlocked the suite you sprang away from him and inside. You just wanted to get away from him but when you saw the room your jaw dropped.

It was warm, cozy and luxurious all at the same time.

“Look at the bed!” You exclaimed, taken aback by the sheer size of it.

You ran into the bathroom excitedly.

“Look at the bath!” You called loudly.

“Can you calm down you godman child? It’s a room, just a room.” Bucky said, rolling his eyes.

“You know what Barnes? Fuck you.”

“On the bed or in the bath?” He asked.

It took you a second to realise what he just said and you threw the room service menu at him. He caught it without flinching and casually perused it.

“We should go down to the restaurant, start scoping out the place.” He decided.

“Fine.” You agreed.

You dragged your suitcase over to the bed and started unzipping it to find something to wear to dinner.

“What?” Bucky asked when you made a shrieking sound.

You pulled out a line of condoms and he snorted at first but even he was taken aback when you kept pulling them out, like some kind of smutty magician.

“Just how much sex do you think we’re going to be having doll?” He asked.

“None! This wasn’t me!” You insisted.

“None? Are you sure about that? You telling me you didn’t pack these either?” He asked, reaching around you to pull a black lacey thong out of the suitcase.

“Paws off my panties Barnes.” You snapped, snatching them back.

“So they are yours?” He asked smugly.

“Pervert.” You muttered, shoving them under a sweater.

“Prude.” He shot back.

“I am NOT a prude.” You said.

“Then how come I’m not having any sex on my honeymoon?” He asked with a wounded look, sitting down on the bed.

“You can have as much sex as you like, just not with me.” You told him, finding a suitable dress and pulling it out of the suitcase.

“I can feel the love.” He snorted.

You gave him a one fingered salute and stomped over to the bathroom, slamming the door.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” He shouted and you groaned and opened the door again.

He was dangling the thong from his fingers with a shit eating grin on his face.

“Unless you’re planning on wearing nothing under the dress?” He asked.

“Ugh. I fucking hate you!” You hissed, slamming the door again.

“Does mean you aren’t wearing any underwear to dinner?” He yelled and you opened the door and stormed over to him, snatching your underwear out of his hand and storming away again.

You slammed the door for the third time and resisted the urge to bang your head against it.

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