#and taylor’s story has never quite made sense

[jewishbarbies]

I knew I didn't like TS/Swifites when last year, they were trying to say one of her songs was about Zac Efron and harassing him ya know, after he came out about his anxiety and addiction issues. It's why I could never get behind that Jake hate train since the worst thing he did was break up with her. If people want to harp on age gap, then ask Taylor why she dated minors when she was 21/22

[daisyswift3]

A Summary of the 🎃 Messages--The Overarching Story

So I just realized sth abt the 🎃 messages while listening to ttpd—they’re in chronological order!! I am going to try to give a summary of these messages and explain why I believe this. This album has made 99% of her songs, mvs, metaphors, and symbols make perfect sense. There were always some things like getaway car, cruel summer, and the palm trees in rep era that I could never quite figure out but now it's all crystal clear. It's like ttpd is the last piece of the puzzle needed to make everything fall right into place and to see the whole messy complicated story. One thing I want you to take note of as you read this summary is how incredibly consistent Taylor is w her use of metaphors and symbols. This makes solving the puzzle that is her music more like solving a cypher that you can know you solved correctly bc all the symbols will fit together perfectly just like a secret code. Once you understand what one symbol represents you now know what it means every time you see it. Every word or phrase she uses is intentional and there's not a single easter egg that's out of place. You'll notice in ttpd there are several words and phrases that are repeated bc she wants us to know that certain songs are related. 🎃 anon said there would be many connections and foretellings in the messages that we could find if we held them to the light in the coming unfoldings, and boy they were not wrong. So w/out further ado let's get into it (just a warning though this will be pretty lengthy so grab your favorite drink, some snacks, and get comfy).

1st message: The first one starts right before rep era when her rep started going down and she started feuding w her record label. These are the obstacles she didn’t see coming that made her slam on the (getaway bike) brakes (which were cut so she had to use her foot to slow down) and not come out. The "heel damaged" could be a reference to Achilles' heel since this was a weak spot she didn't see or it could be a reference to Jesus' heel being bruised in the 1st ever biblical prophecy (see this post for more on that). This was her first big pivot and change of plans. Many ppl have theorized that TS6 was originally going to be a different album--perhaps lover/daylight--but kimye and BMR got in the way of that. This would explain why she wears an outfit w palm trees on it while cutting the wings off her TS6 jet. She spray paints "reputation" on it which seems to indicate it was a haphazard last minute change of plans (x). Plus the endgame mv has palm trees and shows Miami, Florida (which I think is related to Florida!!! but I'll have to get to that another time) connecting it to "Island breeze and lights down low, no one has to know...In the middle of the night in my dreams I know I'm gonna be with you so I take my time." Miami is the paradise where her endgame happens. This all seems to indicate she was ready for "daylight" or "paradise" during rep era but had to pivot.

The Prophecy: “Hand on the throttle, thought I caught lightning in a bottle, Oh but it’s gone again"

2nd message: This is abt the lover rollout that started in spring of 2019 -> "The time draws near, springtime sunshine causing small drips and fractures." The ice castle likely represents the lover house (her music empire, past eras, and closet) since she burns it down w a match just like she does in the eras tour visuals and midnights -> "You strike a match and blow the smoke toward the structure that shelters and protects you. Suddenly, you hear a crack, a crunch, a whoosh. There is a sudden give beneath you, and you tumble through the broken, melting hole in your palace." The ivy reference (spring breaks loose, the time is near) just solidifies my theory that ivy is a song abt an eventual kaylor reunion that will happen before she burns all the files and deserts all her past lives (eras).

Lover era was her second big pivot. I believe she knew there was a very good chance Scott B would sell her masters all the way back in rep era hence why she says "I'm always waiting for you just to cut to the bone, devils roll the dice" (see this post for more on that). "However, in this suddenness you find yourself still somehow underprepared, kicking yourself for the time you squandered by wallowing in the seeming endlessness of your predicament" -> Her being unprepared to come out along w the mastersheist is what caused her to miss her 2nd opportunity to come out. She was so caught off guard that it made her indecisive. And so she played it safe and stayed in the closet -> "Our coming of age has come and gone, suddenly this summer it's clear I never had the courage of my convictions as long as danger is near." Remember how I said Taylor is very consistent w her use of metaphors? Well I made a post a while back explaining how folkmore represents the seasons bc summer = daylight and winter = closeting and folkmore was Taylor trying to come to terms w her 2nd failed coming out hence the grey and beige ("I'm just a paperweight in shades of greige"); so that means the ice castle = winter = closeting and springtime sunshine = almost daylight = almost being out of the closet (and spring was also the time when the lover rollout started so it has a more literal 2nd meaning to it as well).

The Albatross: "So I crossed my thoughtless heart spread my wings like a parachute, I'm the albatross, I swept in at the rescue." [I think there's a good chance this song is abt Scoots so it makes sense the parachute metaphor, which relates to her masters and failed coming out, would be used in this song]

The Bolter: "By all accounts, she almost drowned when she was 6 in frigid water...It feels like the time she fell through the ice then came out alive." ['Long story short I survived']

3rd message: This is abt the mastersheist (diamond heist) during the summer of 2019. It parallels the I Can See You mv exactly (see this post). In hindsight it now makes perfect sense why 1989 tv didn't have any mvs--bc the Fortnight mv is a direct continuation of the ICSY mv! Before the Fortnight mv, the ICSY mv was the most recent one. She didn't want anything between those 2 mvs so that it was obvious they were directly related. Her losing her masters and her 2nd opportunity at daylight is what drove her to insanity and caused her to end up in the asylum -> "I find the artifacts, cried over a hat...I trace the evidence" // "And so I enter into evidence my tarnished coat of arms, etc" | "Is it okay? Is it you? Or have they come to take me away?"

"Mere feet away from the light of freedom...Your getaway bike begins to leave without you, sparks flying as the tires try and fail to slow down for you. You have frozen in this moment of indecision" // "It was the great escape, the prison break, the light of freedom on my face...he was runnin' after us, I was screamin', 'Go, go, go!'" -> There are 2 getaway car mentions in this message which emphasizes its importance. This is likely for a few reasons: 1) To explain what the song getaway car was actually abt--her feud w BMR, not the beards 2) To show that message 1 and 3 are related; the getaway bike is mentioned in both since both are abt her masters 3) To show that the lover era pivot was actually just history repeating itself; this is what Cassandra and the Prophecy are abt.

Cassandra (notice the piano melody from mad woman): “So they set my life in flames, I regret to say do you believe me now? ['If I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes too']…They knew, they knew, they knew the whole time that I was onto somethin', [She knew there was a good chance her masters would be sold as shown in cruel summer] The family, the pure greed, the Christian chorus line" ['Now he sits on his thrown in his palace of bones praying to his greed']

Fortnight: "I was supposed to be sent away But they forgot to come and get me I was a functioning alcoholic 'Til nobody noticed my new aesthetic [Her fans didn't notice the shift from rainbows and pastels to black mourning clothes during the lover era] All of this to say I hope you're okay But you're the reason [The you in the song is Taylor; she's the reason she decided to stay in the closet] And no one here's to blame But what about your quiet treason?" [Taylor's indecisiveness is what led her to not come out the 2nd time]

loml (This is from Karlie's pov): "Mr. Steal Your Girl, then make her cry...You shit-talked me under the table talking rings [Paper Rings] and talking cradles, [Lover mv] I wish I could un-recall how we almost had it all, [They were so close to daylight]...It was legendary, It was momentary ['I touch you (daylight/sunshine) for only a fortnight']...Our field of dreams engulfed in fire" ['So they set my life in flames']

Florida!!!: "Little did you know your home's really only a town you're just a guest in, ['I touch you (daylight/sunshine) for only a fortnight'; 'And so a touch that was my birthright became foreign'] So you work your life away just to pay for a timeshare down in Destin" [Taylor did all this masterminding and planning just to end up still stuck in the closet and bearding and only being able to see her lover in stolen private moments]

Fresh Out the Slammer: "Another [cruel] summer, taking cover, rolling thunder, he don't understand me"

The Bolter: "But it always ends up with a town car speeding" [getaway car]

Peter: "Forgive me Peter, my lost fearless leader, in closets like cedar preserved from when we were just kids, Is it something I did?" [Peter is herself; 'I'd be a fearless leader' and the fearless album; 'closets' is obvious]

How Did It End?: "We were blind to unforeseen circumstances, We learned the right steps to different dances, and fell victim to interlopers' glances, Lost the game of chance, what are the chances?...It's happening again" [This is the 2nd time she's lost the opportunity to come out]

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart: "I'm so obsessed with him but he avoids me like the plague" [They're in love w each other but can't be together in public; 'Break my soul in 2 looking for you but you're right here']

Down Bad: "For a moment [a fortnight] I knew cosmic love, now I'm down bad crying at the gym...'Fuck it if I can't have him I might just die it would make no difference'" ['You (Taylor) told Lucy you'd kill yourself if I (Karlie) ever leave']

5th message: Out of all the messages this is the one I'm the most uncertain abt. But I think it is possibly about JA leaving before his contract was up. "You are in a kitchen. Not your kitchen, of course. Your kitchen is soft and cozy and sacred. THIS kitchen is hard and cold and purely functional" -> This is not the sacred kitchen from Cornelia Street that she shares w her lover, this is a PR stunting kitchen that's a false imitation of the real domestic bliss she has. A few yrs ago kaylors were talking abt how Karlie has a kitchen that she only uses for PR/social media purposes so pumpkin anon could've been trying to remind us of that. These 3 messages from flag 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 anon make me think the breakup happened sooner than planned.

The July 29 message wasn’t meant to be posted until Oct 8 since it was hinting at the Toe breakup happening 5 months later in mid March, 2023.

The Nov 23 message mentions a “shift of footing” which we all agreed meant Toe 🦶 was over. The Dec 5 message w “the need to flex is sometimes necessary” directly following the Toe breakup message is what really makes me think it wasn’t planned. They had to pivot/flex but “other milestones are resolute�� meaning the endgame is still the same—K and T will still reunite and both will be out of the closet at a certain time. Plus there’s the “…” at the end of the Nov 23 message which also indicates the Dec 5 one is a direct continuation of that message.

To add more credibility to this theory, RFI and SIG also have ellipses. RFI always seemed like it was supposed to be a direct continuation of SIG bc SIG sets up the “chess game” w her and her lover doing magic and pulling the wool over everyone's eyes, and RFI is when this chess game officially begins, "baby let the games begin."

Some other kaylors said they thought “the need to flex” meant that she wanted to give anti hero more time on the charts so she was flexing or showing off. But I think it makes more sense for it to be related to London Boy himself and not having him as a beard since that’s the whole purpose of having the 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 flag. I could be wrong though.

So Long, London: “Pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away…Holding tight to your quiet resentment…Every breath feels like rarest air when you’re not sure if he wants to be there” [This may mean that JA kept trying to break free from the contract and Taylor kept trying to convince him to stay but it didn’t work]. "My spine split from carrying us up the hill, Wet through my clothes, weary bones caught the chill" ['They are bowing out, leaving you with double the workload, now half burnt and smoking. Their duties weren’t finished, and yet there is nothing you can do to make them stay. Shaken by this loss, chaos descends upon the team. Most roll up their sleeves to work harder']. "And my friends said it isn't right to be scared, every day of a love affair" [There were several blind items talking abt how JA was hooking up w men in a very unsubtle way; this could be what the 'cheating husband' mentions in ttpd are abt]. “Two graves, one gun” [Makes me think of a smoking gun which could be what the 'smell of smoke' in the message was alluding to. Maybe JA threatened to reveal her secrets if she didn't let him go and he had the smoking gun evidence to do so which was the recipe card. 'This time is different. Because you know this person actually has the means to share the secret menu, and that they have enough proof to make the waiting guests believe them.' -> I mean if anyone could convince the general public it would be the man who was supposed to be her boyfriend for 6 yrs]. “And you say I abandoned the ship but I was going down w it, my white knuckle dying grip” ['But you have never been one to lay your armor down. When you fail, you fail gloriously. When you go, you go kicking and screaming']. "I didn't opt in to be your odd man out" [She didn't want to be his beard just like he didn't want to be hers; and odd man out is a game that's played w 3 ppl where the odd man is the loser who's eliminated bc he didn't have a match]. "I founded the club she's heard great things about" [The Tortured Man Club -> The Tortured Poets Department that she's chairman of]

7th message: This message is all abt the domestic bliss she has away from the public eye. She has worked so hard to make sure her secrets are safe by building a tall impenetrable fence. However, she chooses to intentionally blow a dandelion full of secrets--perhaps ttpd is the dandelion w all the songs being the florets or secrets. There is one floret in particular that she’s worried abt—my guess is it’s Robin since it’s so damning if you know what to look for. Plus the song Robin parallels this message perfectly and evokes the same imagery. And to add even more credibility to this theory, the lyric vid for Robin has dandelion florets in the background. See these posts: (x)(x)(x)(x)(x)(x). "You are walking through your yard. It's one of your favorite places, all sprawling garden rows" -> Betty's garden; "your wife waters flowers," etc. "There are daisies - so many daisies - in every shade of your rainbow"--I don't think I even need to explain this. "Your lover and your fresh baked buns are safe. (The buns, of course, are in the oven turning golden as you speak. It's an old family recipe, jotted lovingly on a recipe card.)" -> The recipe card is perhaps a picture or some other sort of smoking gun evidence of Taylor's family and it connects the 5th and 7th messages together. And the meaning of "buns in the oven" is pretty obvious. "Golden" refers to Karlie.

Robin: "Higher and higher, wilder and lighter" [This may be a double entendre--not only is she encouraging this child to bounce higher on his trampoline or swing higher, she is also encouraging the dandelion floret (the song Robin) to fly higher and go out into the world after she blows on it]

The Albatross: "Wild winds are death to the candle...One bad seed kills the garden" [This may be connected to the dandelion metaphor and I believe there are many layers to these lyrics; wild winds can carry the dandelion seeds into other ppl's yards; if Taylor's secret gets out this can destroy the domestic bliss she has i.e. kill her metaphorical garden or candle; 'love's a fragile little flame it can burn out']

I Hate It Here: "I hate it here so I will go to secret gardens in my mind people need a key to get to, the only one is mine" [There is only one way to get into this garden since a tall impenetrable fence surrounds it; there are other layers in these lyrics as well like the escapism aspect of it]

But Daddy I Love Him: "I'm having his baby, no I'm not but you should see your faces" [Bc it's Karlie that had the babies]

8th message: This entire message parallels the Bolter. I believe this is abt Taylor finally choosing her lover over her reputation and choosing to intentionally destroy it in order to meet her lover down at the bottom like 🌋 anon mentioned. This may be the purpose of the whole Ratty debacle—to tarnish her image (by jumping into shark infested waters) so that when kaylor are together in public again her fans won’t be able to hate on KK w/out being hypocrites bc Taylor has already done all the things she knows they’ll accuse KK of, like being connected to someone who’s quite problematic. I believe this takes place from May 2023-now since this is when MH and her started “dating.” The use of all lowercase in the 🌋 messages may be a reference to the reputation album title to indicate that this is going to be a repeat of rep era but this time the damage to her rep will be intentional. I find it very interesting that the Feb 20th 🌋 message is the only one that has a word capitalized and the word that's capitalized is "Gold." This is in contrast to "fools gold" which is not capitalized or colored.

The self-loathing is palpable in Taylor's music (x) and it is displayed heavily in this message as well. I think it's possible the "enemy" is actually just Taylor herself or her public persona to be more exact. She is her own worst enemy; the Anti Hero mv illustrates this. She's the one that spreads the dandelions in message 7 which is what the enemy does in this message; she's the bear, and in the Bolter she (real Taylor) tames the bear (Taylor the brand). I believe TSMWEL could possibly be abt herself as well. I mean TSMWEL literally has "TS" in the track title. The clean version of the Bolter has the line "Then she'll call him a bore" which parallels TSMWEL, "You said normal girls were boring." It's as if real Taylor is doing an UNO reverse on Taylor the brand by treating her public persona the same way she treated real Taylor for years. This is very reminiscent of the Archer, "I've been the archer I've been the prey." I think TSMWEL, while it is abt herself, is simultaneously abt Scott B. And the reason for this relates back to what I said abt the 2nd and 3rd 🎃 messages--she blames both Scott AND herself for her failed coming out. The mastersheist threw her for a loop, yes, but she could've still come out anyway were it not for her indecisiveness. And I haven't have time to fully analyze MBOBHFT yet but I think it's similar where it can either be read from Karlie's perspective to Taylor after the 2019 failed coming out or from Taylor's perspective to Scott B/the industry.

The Bolter: "But as she was leaving, it felt like breathing, ['When I was drowning that's when I could finally breathe'] All her fuckin' lives flashed before her eyes...He [the 'enemy'] was a cad, wanted her bad just like any good trophy hunter and she liked the way it tastes taming a bear, making him care watching him jump then pulling him under" [This connects to the 10th message: 'You limp over uneven ground, smiling at the pain of the shark bite with each excruciating step - replaying the satisfying splash as you finally chose her over the world. As you grabbed the enemy and dove into the infested waters']

loml: "The coward claimed he was a lion" ['You’re a selfish asshole. So much of your fear is your own. You wince at your cowardice like it is a gaping wound. You so often find yourself unable to meet your own eyes. You scramble into shadows like a black cat. Scared, even, of being scared...You are a coward, but you are not a fool']

I Hate It Here: "I was a debutant in another life but now I seem to be scared to go outside" [In another life she already came out but in this one she's too scared to even leave her house let alone come out]

The Tortured Poets Department (This is from Karlie's pov): "You're in self-sabotage mode throwing spikes down on the road"

9th message: This message is abt her finishing her 11th album, the last chapter of her 11 part story, and then sending it out into the world like a message in a bottle (the Manuscript). So I'm assuming this would take place on April 19, 2024, the release date of ttpd. "You are sitting on a beach, cold and windswept. The sea is dark and angry before you." -> This may be the same beach and sea from the folkmore era. "The sun sets in muted colors." -> Describing the sunset colors as muted is quite interesting since sunsets typically have very vivid colors; this makes me think it's related to the eras tour visuals during the transition from august to illicit affairs (which I explained the meaning of in this post), and the folkmore color palette was mainly muted colors. "You finish scrawling on the parchment. Your pen dries up as you reach the end of a story in 11 parts." // "Feeling like the very last drops of an ink pen," "my veins of pitch black ink." She is sick of having to dilute her truth through metaphors and allegories which is why she is a tortured poet -> "Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die." Plus there's the "parchment" which she mentioned many times during her eras tour speeches which relates it to the folkmore era (x)(x)(x). "And now it is just a matter of time. The dripping of candle wax. The ticking of a clock." -> (x).

I recommend reading this post which explains how the Manuscript, ATW short film, message in a bottle, the story of us, and 4th, 9th, and 10th 🎃 messages are related. Many ppl pointed out that the Manuscript lyric vid looks like a movie script, and she's been referencing films and books a lot recently which makes me think there's a good chance she's going to release a film and book abt her coming out story. The 9th message and the lyrics in the Manuscript make it clear that Taylor's discography as a whole IS the manuscript i.e. it's the author's (Taylor's) draft of her story that is getting ready to be published. In academia, a manuscript is a draft of your research that you send in to be peer reviewed and if it's accepted it then becomes a published academic article.

The Manuscript: "And the years passed like scenes of a show, the professor said to write what you know, [She's equating her life to a story w the different eras being different scenes or chapters] The only thing that's left is the manuscript, one last souvenir from my trip to your shores, [message in a bottle; 'It may wash up on a sunny beach in Florida, or a rocky shore in the northwest'] Now and then I reread the manuscript but the story isn't mine anymore" ['Once you blow a dandelion, you never get it back. It isn’t yours anymore']

The Bolter: "But she's got the best stories"

10th message: This is a direct continuation of the 8th message and takes place right before she comes out of the closet (the wooden door in the woods). So this would take place after her rep has already been destroyed which I don’t think we’ve gotten to yet. My guess is that things will start ramping up in the next few months. She may start being papped w all her previous beards looking happy w them or sth similar which is all she’d need to do to show that the relationships were all fake and she’s been lying this whole time. This may be the “chaos” that 🫚 anon was referring to (see this post). This lines up with the blood moon glitch vinyl, representing chaos and disruption, being the 2nd quarter of the yr according to the midnights clock (4-6 or April-June, 2024). Plus many ppl think BDILH is abt MH--and Taylor meant for this to happen bc this album is full of red herrings--and in that song she says "He (MH) was chaos" so this might be a hint that the bearding shenanigans are gonna ramp up. Of course things are already plenty chaotic now w everyone thinking ttpd is abt 3 different men, one of which is pretty problematic, so perhaps this is all ginger was referring to. Taylor calling herself "the Bolter" has 2 meanings: 1) She is a coward who often runs away from danger 2) The 2nd more positive interpretation is that she knows "when it's time to go." I think it's very telling that ITTG is the last track on the deluxe edition of evermore and comes right after RWYLM, a song abt being stuck in the closet after the 2019 failed coming out. She's saying that she's not going to stay there forever(more).

The Bolter: "But none of it is changing that the chariot is waiting, ['The story of 2 princesses. No place for a prince'; the Cinderella metaphor (x)] Hearts are hers for the breaking, There's escape in escaping...Ended with the slam of a [closet] door but she's got the best stories, You can be sure that as she was leaving it felt like freedom" [The 6/21/2020 ♠️ riddle spells out 'They Are Free']

11th message: This message takes place after midnight at 3am on Nov 1 after she’s gone through the wooden door. In this post I explain how 3am connects to the witching hr or devil's hr. The fact that this takes place right after Halloween is quite significant since it is a day dedicated to remembering the dead, and death and ghosts are a big theme in ttpd. This symbolizes how after Taylor kills her old self (by dragging her into shark infested waters), she will resurrect as a new version of herself and leave the past behind her. And in doing these things, she will finally be able to go back to her figurative home, her cabin, that she was exiled from. -> "I think I've seen this film before so I'm leaving out the side door," "And I was catching my breath, floors of a cabin creaking under my step...I had a feeling so peculiar this pain wouldn't be for evermore." "The flame🕯️ finally🕯️flickers🌬️OUT" -> The match that started the "goddamn blaze in the dark" is no longer needed now that the lover house (her closet) has burned down, so the flame flickers out. This metaphor shows up in Peter as well, "But the woman who sits by the window has turned out the light," where the light dying represents the woman losing hope that a coming out will happen. Notice in this message from present anon that "Goodbye" has a capital letter G which I believe links it to "Gold" in the volcano message that was mentioned earlier. This may indicate that Karlie is the woman/neighbor holding the light and waiting for Taylor's return home. The Dec 26th 🌋 message is likely from Karlie's pov in this case.

Fresh Out the Slammer: "Now pretty baby I'm runnin back home to you, Fresh out the slammer I know who my first call will be to...But it's gonna be alright I did my time...Get the matches, toss the ashes off the ledge, [the burning of the lover house] As I said in my letters [the anon messages this corner of the internet has been receiving? Could also just represent her songs] now that I know better I will never lose my baby again...Swirled you into all of my poems ['My mind turns your life into folklore (literally and figuratively)']...To the house where you still wait up and that porch light [jack-o-lantern] gleams" [see this post abt the porch]

The Alchemy (This is from Karlie's pov): "What if I told you I'm back?...I haven't come around in so long, but I'm coming back so strong, ['But I come back stronger than a 90's trend'] Cause the sign on your heart said it's still reserved for me"

imgonnagetyouback: "Push the reset button we're becoming something new...Even if it's handcuffed I'm leaving here with you, Bygones will be bygone eras fading into gray, We broke all the pieces but still want to play the game...I'm gonna get you back"

[luminoustarlight]

"Slut!" | Modern!Anakin Skywalker

a miss americana and the heartbreak prince story

(modern!au / high school!au)

High school culture in this series is extremely dramatized and fictionalized. As mentioned in the series masterlist, the characters are 18 years old. Padmé is very out of character in this series as well. There are lots of nods to Taylor Swift lyrics in this, too. So it's really fun for swifties and star war babes.

Slut

noun

a woman who has many casual sexual partners.

The definition of “slut” more accurately describes Anakin rather than you. Afterall, he is the Heartbreak Prince of Lucas High School. But men never pay the price for sleeping around. They’re awarded a higher social status. Or in Anakin Skywalker’s case, you become the Senior every Freshman boy wants to be. 

Anakin Skywalker used to be a player. Anakin Skywalker used to go through girls faster than the news could spread around school. He had no qualms with one night stands or taking a girl’s virginity because she asked him to. He was honored to be a girls’ first time. 

He dated Padmé Amidala exclusively from January until June. When the new school year began, everyone wondered who would be the next one to get their heart broken by Anakin. Nobody could’ve guessed it would be Miss Americana. 

The crowd at the Homecoming game nearly quieted when Anakin spun you around in the middle of the field. When he nuzzled his sweaty face into your neck, kissing your warm skin as if it was a greater reward than winning the football game. It took you by surprise, to say the least. You’ve only been seeing each other for about a month and had yet to interact or show affection at school. It was quite the announcement. And the message was loud and clear. Anakin had a new girl and she’s nothing like his ex. 

Padmé had watched you and Anakin with a fire fueled by jealousy in her stomach. You had a stupid, naïve smile on your face as you walked off of the field with Anakin’s varsity jacket draped over your shoulders. That should be me. Maybe it’s all an act to make me jealous. 

So that’s how the whispers began at the Homecoming dance. Padmé had rallied her cheerleading friends to start spreading rumors. By the time you walked through the gymnasium doors attached to Anakin’s arm, everyone had made up their mind about you. You’re nothing but a slut and a man-stealer. 

It’s unnerving having so many eyes on you at once. It’s like they all have a radar when Anakin walks into a room. He’s just that magnetic of a man. And he’s used to it. But it makes you uncomfortable and Anakin can sense it. 

“Are you alright?” 

You swallow and plaster on an unconvincing smile. “‘M fine.”

“Hey,” Anakin says gently. He cups your elbows and rubs his thumbs over your arms. “We’re all dressed up, you look stunning and I’m having a particularly great hair day. They might as well look at us. I want you to enjoy yourself tonight. Do you think you can do that for me?” 

Maroon 5’s Moves Like Jagger thrumming in your ears makes it difficult to think or to argue. Anakin is right. You didn’t spend $120 on an aquamarine dress for nothing. “Fine,” you concede. “But if I hear people talking about me, can we leave and go to Denny’s?” 

“They’re going to talk about you, angel,” Anakin kisses you on the cheek. “It’s just how it is. But none of it means a thing. C’mon, let’s dance.” 

You dance for about twenty minutes before needing to get something to drink. Of course it’s the same time Anakin meets up with his football friends, leaving you at the snack table with a target on your back. Serena and Molly, Padmé’s closest friends slither up next to you. 

“Hey, Slut,” Serena jeers. That insult was bound to reach your ears sooner or later. It’s by no means true or accurate but they don’t care. They’re not about to bad mouth Anakin. 

“So… you and Anakin, huh?” Molly begins. “He’s a bit out of your league, isn’t he?” 

“Don’t worry, Mol. She’s just his rebound. He’s gonna get back with Padmé when he realizes what a loser she is. No offense,” Serena adds insincerely. 

“That definitely felt like something you wanted me to take offense to,” you say. You scan the gym for Anakin, hoping he’ll see the situation you’re in and rescue you. But when you put it like that, you sound so pathetic. You can get out of this yourself. “And I’m not his rebound.” 

“No?” Molly puts her hands on his hips. “That’s not what I heard…” 

No, you tell yourself. Don’t indulge her. Whatever she has to say isn’t true. 

Serena laughs at you. “You don’t honestly think Anakin actually likes you, do you? He’s just using you to make Padmé jealous. You’re all part of his plan to get her back.” 

Even though you know Serena is lying, her words still manage to plant seeds of doubt in you. But they don’t know anything about you and Anakin. There is something special kindling between the two of you. Anakin cares about you. It’s in the way he drops off a Dirty Chai latte on your porch before going to school. It’s written in the notes he stealthily slips into your locker when he says he’s going to the bathroom in the middle of class. It’s the sweatshirts he lets you borrow and the sleepless movie nights eating buttery popcorn and stale Red Vines over the last two weekends. 

“You’re wrong,” you say with a slight quiver in your lip. You hate how Serena has made you question everything with Anakin. If it’s all just for show then why does he kiss you when no one is watching? Why did he insist on keeping your new relationship private if not to nurture your budding romance without prying eyes? 

He’s ashamed of you. 

Then why did he ask you to the dance? 

To humiliate you in front of the whole school. 

This is just a game to him. Your embarrassment is the prize. 

“Aw, I think we hurt Little Miss Americana’s feelings,” Molly feigns a sad face, dragging her finger down her cheek as if it’s a fallen tear. “I hate to make it worse but it looks like he and Padmé might be making up right now.” 

Molly and Serena point in Anakin’s direction, where he is indeed speaking with Padmé. It’s the first time you’ve seen her all night and she looks breathtaking. Her chocolate hair is curled to perfection, bouncy locks cascading over her shoulders. A plunging neckline draws your eyes down her chest and seriously, she was allowed to wear this to a high school dance? 

She’s throwing her head back dramatically, as if Anakin just told her the joke of the year. And then— dear God, you want to throw up— he’s hugging her. You count the seconds. 1…2…3… you can’t watch it anymore. You turn away from Serena and Juliette abruptly and make your way out of the gymnasium. 

“So long, slut,” Serena waves. 

The brisk October air assaults your skin and invades your lungs, but it’s welcomed compared to the betrayal you feel coursing through your veins. Is this the end of Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince? You’ve only had a month with him but you want a dozen more. You’ve barely had time to discover what your relationship could become. 

Perfect pearls of salt begin falling down your cheeks. How could you have been so lovelorn? How could you have gotten it all wrong? You were too blinded by Anakin’s charm to see that it was always meant to be temporary. 

“Y/N!” Anakin calls for you. He spots you sitting on the curb with your head in your hands. 

A little piece of him crumbles. Someone has hurt you. Little does he know it was him who did. 

He rushes over to you and lays his arm over your back as he sits down. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” You let yourself relish in the feeling of having his protective arm around you. It might be the last time. “Go back inside.” 

“No,” Anakin replies, tilting your face toward him with a finger beneath your chin. “You’ve been crying.” 

“What an astute observation, Anakin.” 

Okay, so apparently you’re going back to the days when you hated each other. Right. Great. Why? 

“You’re… mad at me…?” Anakin thinks out loud. 

“I’m-” you stand abruptly, making you dizzy as all of the blood rushes out of your head. You wait until you can see clearly before continuing to speak. “I’m confused, Anakin! I’m angry at myself for falling for you, I’m angry at myself for being so naïve in thinking this was as real for you as it was for me. I can’t believe I was so fucking stupid-” 

Anakin stands as well. Clearly, something happened in the gymnasium. Someone said something to you. Or you saw something that wasn’t what it seemed.  “What are you talking about?”

“You and Padmé.”

“Are over,” Anakin emphasizes. 

“But…” you close your eyes, replaying the scene you saw before you. Padmé laughing, Anakin bringing her in for a hug… it was all so friendly. 

“But you saw us hug?” Anakin asks calmly. You nod. “But you didn’t hear me?” 

“No,” you reply shamefully. 

“I told her that I don’t want to get back together with her. My relationship with her was the first real one I’ve had and it taught me a lot, but it is not what I want. It’s not what I need. She is not who I want or who I need.” 

“Ani…”

Anakin shakes his head. “I’m not done. Look, I know we’re only 18 and I know we have our whole lives ahead of us but let’s not think about that. Think about right now,” Anakin grabs your hands. “This is real for me. You’re my favorite person to spend time with. I’m so fucking excited that everyone at this fucking school knows we’re together because now I can kiss you whenever I want. I can push you up against the lockers and make out with you until we get yelled at by Mr. Windu.” 

That makes you giggle. You can totally hear Mr. Windu telling you to get off of each other before he gives you both detention. 

“I don’t have to be so fucking sneaky with putting notes in your locker. You can wear my Varsity jacket at games. We can actually go out to a restaurant and go on a date. Don’t give up on us, baby. We’ve only just begun.” 

It’s not a proclamation of love or anything, but it’s enough. Everyone wants Anakin Skywalker and that seems to be your crime. You stole him before anyone else had the chance. 

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[poughkeepsies]

Thinking about the beginning of Buck and Eddie's story and how they started with a very specific promise of protection. And the most interesting thing about it was that it wasn't the most straightforward one either! It wasn't "I will always have your back", it was "you can have my back any day", and this immediately set them apart from every other relationship in their lives. Because sure, it would've been sweet for them to promise to protect each other, but it wouldn't have been anything extraordinary because they make that promise to all sorts of people in their lives every day. These are two men who are both protectors through and through - Buck, whose entire life purpose was to save and fix other people, and Eddie, who was a father, eldest son, and soldier before he was anything else - but at that moment they looked at each other and said: "You. You are the one I will let save me."

And the most incredible thing is that that's exactly what they did! For the next five seasons, they have very deliberately and importantly been shown to be each other's safety net through every single hurdle life threw at them. I don't think there's been a single plot point with Buck or Eddie that didn't have the other involved in at least a supporting role. (Even with their parents, both of them are seen being a listening ear for the other. Even with Ana and Taylor, it's them giving the other the push needed to break things off. The sperm donor storyline was sort of unique in that Eddie wasn't shown as having that big of a reaction (at least so far) but it also turned out that Buck didn't really need support, he needed advice and Hen was the best person for that. Being a sperm donor wasn't an emotionally challenging decision once he made it, so he didn't need Eddie's support.)

I know for a lot of us it felt like in 612 they were finally making it textually crystal clear, with Buck quite literally fleeing his apartment and escaping to Eddie for comfort, that buddie are each other's safe place. But this has been the foundation of their relationship the entire time and the show has never shied away from it. And it is absolutely the reason why they are soulmates and life partners in every sense of the word. How beautiful is it for two men who have spent their entire lives feeling alone and unwilling to burden others for fear of being too much to look at each other and go I will let you bear the ugliest parts of me and trust that your love is not conditional.

[fairy-writes]

THE STORY OF US

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Bungou Stray Dogs

Pairing(s): Dazai Osamu x Reader

Word Count: 4k (PLS READ, I’M BEGGING YOU)

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Pretty Heavy AU (idk what to call it tho), Female!Reader, Time Traveler!Reader, Time Traveler!Dazai, Reader is shorter than Dazai

Taglist: @underthetree845 | @nezuko-kamado-cute-demon

Notes: I don’t know what I’m doing

VERY HEAVILY RIVER SONG INSPIRED (find my quotes lol)

I might write part two from the Reader’s POV (don’t get your hopes up tho, I’m notoriously bad with writing part two to things, but if I get requests I’m more likely to do it!)

I just now realized that the title is also a Taylor Swift song, but I don’t wanna change it

Also, I’m just saying this now, this is not every scene I had in mind. A lot of scenes got cut for my sanity. 

__________________________________________________________________________

Osamu first discovered he could time jump when he was eleven. 

It had been an accident, really. Well, maybe not a complete accident. Osamu wanted to escape everything—his parents' arguing, their fights. But, of course, he had nowhere to go. As an eleven-year-old boy, there wasn’t anywhere that would hire him. He had no other family that wasn’t across the other side of the world. 

He was completely and utterly alone. 

The shouting was reaching its peak. Osamu shoved his pillow further over his head as if trying to suffocate himself as his mother screamed something at his father. Something about his lies. 

Ha. If only she knew how much Osamu lied. 

Lied about his day at school. (Anything to get her off his back.)

Lied about having friends. (Anything to make them not suspicious.)

Lied about everything. 

The screaming grated on his ears through the pillow, and he ground his teeth until his mouth hurt. 

Couldn’t they just shut up? 

Couldn’t they just go away?

Suddenly, something was different. Osamu felt a tugging in his stomach. It was as if someone wrapped a string around his middle and yanked. Almost like he was being squeezed out of a tube of toothpaste.

And then he could hear… water? The sounds of a river that should not be audible even through the open window. Did they even live near a river?

Osamu peeked out from the pillow over his head and was blinded by sunlight. He sat up and realized his pajamas were covered in scalding hot sand. Golden sand stretched for miles and miles, a long twisting river just visible in the distance. On the horizon, he saw pyramids being erected high into the sky. 

What the hell?

And the rest was quite literally history.

December 31st, 1925

New York City

The air was cold. Snow fell in flakes as Osamu watched the snow fall outside the bar, nursing a whiskey on the rocks as he paid no mind to anyone around him. He had aged since his first trip through time. Though he could never remember how old he was. He looked to be in his early twenties, but everyone looked so different in different time periods, so he could’ve been thirty, and that would’ve made sense. 

“Mind if I sit?” Comes a sweet voice. He looks to his left and sees you. 

You’re dressed to the nines in a silver slip flapper dress with black beads decorating the length of the gown. Your hair was cut in a neat bob, a feather headband decorating the up-do. The kohl around your eyes only accentuates the pretty color. 

Osamu plasters a grin across his features, and you shift. He gestures grandly to the stool beside him, 

“I could do with a gorgeous woman’s company.” He quips, and you laugh good-naturedly before sliding onto the stool beside him. He can feel your warmth through the woolen fabric of his suit coat, and he takes a sip of liquid courage, suddenly feeling somewhat hesitant to talk to you.

There was something about you. Like you knew all Osamu’s secrets already. 

You lean your cheek on the palm of your hand, smiling with ruby-red lips and brilliant teeth that were ahead of their time. 

That should’ve been his first clue. 

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Where are we at now?” You muse, and he frowns as he sips at his whiskey. This was one of the only bars that still sold alcohol through the prohibition. 

“Sorry, I’ve never seen you before in my life.” He says, and you cock your head, eyebrow raised, as you pick at the seams of your silken gloves. You abruptly stop picking and reach into your clutch purse that rested in your lap, pulling out a worn notebook he didn’t recognize. It was well-loved, with pictures stuffed in between the pages. 

“So we haven’t done France yet?”

“France?” You lean back giddily and hold your notebook to your chest.

“What a night that was! Dancing in front of the Eiffel Tower? That ring a bell?” Osamu shakes his head. 

He had yet to go to France. In all his time jumping, he hadn’t seen the point in going to France,  much less the City of Love. 

Now it was your turn to frown, flipping through your little notebook, and he spies neat handwriting in various languages. English. Japanese. German. Latin. And were those Egyptian hieroglyphs? All throughout the pages, he spies his picture scattered across the ink.

Just who were you?

And why do you have all those pictures and drawings of him?

“What about picnicking at Versailles?” 

Another shake. Another page turned.

“The Titanic? What a messy time that was!”

“What is that?” He eventually asks, and you quickly flip it shut before he can actually read anything. 

“Spoilers.” You say quickly, and when he arches an eyebrow, you sigh, call the bartender over, and order a glass of champagne. The two of you wait in silence until you get your drink. Eventually, you speak after you’ve downed half of your champagne flute. “It’s all of our adventures. Time travel gets complicated, doesn’t it?”

As soon as he connects the dots, Osamu is floored. 

Another time traveler? He thought he was the only one!

It’s clear you pick up on what he is thinking because your face falls. You look heartbroken. As if he just ripped your heart out of your chest and smashed it into a million pieces. As if you were a lonesome star falling from the sky and drowning in the sea.

“You truly don’t have any idea who I am, do you?” Osamu shrugs, 

“Who are you?”

Osamu didn’t know it was possible, but you looked even more upset. Tears welled up in your waterline and smudged your kohl as it dripped down your cheeks. You swallow thickly and sniffle, pulling a handkerchief from your clutch to dab at your watery eyes and ruined makeup.

For whatever reason, Osamu feels his heart ache. 

“I suppose this was bound to happen sometime.” You say eventually, and he looks over at you from where he had just downed the last of his whiskey. You’re leaning both of your arms on the counter, running a finger around the rim of your champagne glass.

“What do you mean?” He asks, and you huff, look at him out of the corner of your eye, and your finger stops

“We always meet out of order. Hence, the diary. But… I just never expected it to hurt this much.” You sniffle again, and Osamu realizes he wants to make it better. He realizes he doesn’t like to see you cry. 

But he doesn’t even know you!

Why should he care if you cried or not?

“If it’s any consolation… I’m sorry…” He says quietly, and you bark out a laugh,

“There’s nothing to be sorry for! I suppose this is just a chance for me to get to know the younger you.” You sniffle, but that bright smile that makes his heart race lights up your face once again. You seem to think something over before standing and offering Osamu a hand.

“Care to walk with me?” You tease him with a flirty wink, and he finds himself unable to say no. 

So, as the clock chimes closer and closer to midnight, the two of you leave the bar, with you each paying for your respective drinks. Osamu offered to buy yours as an added apology, but you just patted his shoulder with a knowing smile and said, “I know you’re awful with money.”

Which… You weren’t wrong. 

Just how much did you know about him?

How much had he told you in the future?

You walk next to him, bundled up in a trench coat not unlike his own and with your hands stuffed in your pockets. Osamu pulls his own (matching) trench coat over his suit coat and slacks and follows you out into the sprinkling snow. You both walk side by side in a surprisingly comfortable silence. At least until you hear people counting down in the streets.

10…

You blink and turn to look at him.

“What day is it again?” You ask, and he looks up at the snow.

“December 31st, 1925.” He replies, and you gape in surprise.

9…

“Y’know, I’ve never celebrated New Year's with time travel and all. Never even had a New Year's kiss.” You muse, watching couples get together on the streets.

8…

“Would you like one?” Osamu blurts, and you nearly trip in surprise. Osamu almost follows suit when you stop abruptly to look at him with wide eyes.

7…

“But you don’t even know me.” You say hesitantly, but you turn to face him nonetheless. He finds himself smiling, a soft, genuine sort of smile.

When was the last time he smiled like this?

6…

“I’m giving my future self the benefit of the doubt and trusting his judgment.” He teases, and you relax, hanging your head with a soft giggle. But you don’t pull away when he slowly pulls you in close to him.

5…

Your coat flaps open, and he sees his father’s initials stitched on the side and realizes you don’t just have matching coats—you have the exact same coat.

When did he give that to you? He swore he’d never give it up to remind himself to never return home!

4…

Your soft arms around his neck catch his attention, and you’re suddenly much closer, standing on your tiptoes in your kitten heels.

3…

His arms pull you close by your hips, and he leans down.

2…

Your noses brush.

1…

The kiss is like the fireworks going off above him. His eyes flutter close, and he pulls you impossibly closer. Your lips are soft with the lipstick, and he doesn’t care that it’s likely stained on his mouth.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

The kiss deepens, and you soak up his affection greedily. Like you had been waiting for this forever. Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close oh so tenderly. 

Like a puzzle piece being fit into place, his heart sang like a choir in a church.

Were you what he was missing all this time?

Could he finally have this?

Could he—

BANG! BANG! BANG!!

You jolt and fall to the ground as a car screeches around a corner and out of sight.

What?

What happened?

Osamu looks down and feels his heart stop.

You’re crumpled against the cement, blood seeping out of bullet holes in your abdomen. Your dress is ruined. But that doesn’t matter.

Osamu falls to his knees, not caring about the cold, wet concrete soaking his slacks. He pulls your upper half into his lap and applies pressure. You cry out and push his hands away.

“I need to put pressure on your injury. Hold still for me, love.” He whispers to you and turns to where people are still celebrating. “AMBULANCE! SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE!” He cries, but they’re so wrapped up in their excitement that they don’t hear him.

Your hand touches his face, and he looks down to see you giving him a bloody smile. Crimson leaks from your mouth, and he can tell that you don’t have long.

“Hold on—Hold on, I’ll get a doctor—I’ll—” He stammers in an attempt to calm you (himself) down, and you just spit up blood in a choked laugh.

“We both know I’m not going to survive this.” You wheeze, and he can see the color draining from your face as you lose blood and warmth.

“Then I’ll jump back in time! Time can be rewritten!” You cut him off abruptly with more strength than he thought you had.

“Not those times. Not one line. Don’t you dare.” You say, hand falling to grip his hand as tightly as you could muster.

“But you’re dying.” He says, unable to explain why his heart is breaking to pieces inside his chest. You cough once more and smile that brilliant smile that he finds that he loves so much.

“It’s not over for you. You’ll see me again. You’ve got all of that to come.” You slur your words at this point, and he grits his teeth. Your hand goes weak in his, and he holds it even tighter. 

“You and me. All those adventures all over time. You watch us run!” You whisper, and he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead just as you close your eyes.

117 AD

Rome, Italy

The crowd roars louder than Osamu has ever heard it. Bored, he watches as gladiators fight in the ring. The arena is bathed in blood, but he can’t bring himself to care.

He hasn’t cared about much since you died. 

He wasn’t even sure why. He barely knew you. But he keeps thinking back to the kiss you shared on New Year’s. He thinks of your words. 

“You watch us run!”

“Is this seat taken?” A voice yells over the crowd, and his heart stutters to a halt. He turns, eyes wide to see you. 

Oh, how cruel this life was.

You’re dressed in a fashionable, long tunic that goes down to your ankles with a shawl of sorts around your shoulders. Your hair is longer than Osamu remembered. It is no longer a bob but instead curled at the front and with a braided crown in the back. You hold that journal under your arm and smile brightly before scurrying over and sitting beside him. 

“Where are we at now?” You ask excitedly, pleased to see him. 

But all he can see is your dead body in his arms. 

Was there some god up above watching this cruel exchange with glee?

What had he done to deserve this? 

“‘samu? Is everything okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” 

‘samu? 

The last person to call him that was his mother. Before she and his father began to fight. Back before he could time jump.

Back when things were simple. 

Your hand on his arm has Osamu flinching away, causing you to cringe back as well. You look worried, panicked even, and all for him. 

So you didn’t know yet. You didn’t know you were going to die. 

So, he doesn’t tell you. 

“Sorry, my love, I thought you were a monster here to gobble me up!” He chirps, and your panic melts away quickly. You lean back into his side, and he takes the chance to wrap a bandaged arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. You giggle and open your book. 

“Where are we now?” You repeat, and he shrugs, 

“You tell me.” He says, keeping his eyes off your book out of respect and on the gladiator games below. 

“France?”

“Not yet.”

“The Wild West? That was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Nope.” 

You two go back and forth for a moment before you ultimately sigh and clap your book shut. 

“It’s very early for you, isn’t it?” You say, mildly exasperated. Osamu nods silently, heart twisting when you set your book down and lean heavily into his side. He trickles his fingers along your neck, feeling goosebumps rise along the skin, and you shiver. 

The games end, and you shuffle out of the Colosseum and through the streets of Rome. You boldly take ahold of Osamu’s hand as if this was regular for you. He can’t bring himself to let go, so he instead makes you laugh by swinging your arms between you, occasionally twirling you in a circle. His chilton feels suffocating despite it being made of linen. 

But he can’t bring himself to time jump away. To leave you alone to spare his own feelings. 

Perhaps it’s the overwhelming guilt he feels?

Perhaps it’s because he finds himself enjoying your company. 

Either way, he allows you to pull him around the ancient cobblestone streets of Rome. Enjoying the markets and public museums that were beginning to pop up all over the city. 

The entire time, he doesn’t let go of your hand. 

August 8th, 1912

The Wild West

It’s hot. 

Almost overwhelmingly so. 

Osamu peels off one of his gloves and fans his face with it as he climbs the steps to the little cabin he had been staying at. His bandages itch with the heat, and he has a sneaking suspicion that they’re slowly soaking with sweat underneath his borrowed button-down, vest, trousers, and chaps. 

Though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, he liked this place sans the heat. The people in this little settled town were kind, barely batting an eye when he suddenly appeared in their home. The people he was currently staying with, an older couple named Buck and Bonnie, welcomed him with open arms. They claimed it was because he reminded them of their son, who was out settling the rest of the West. 

“Osamu? Are you done already?” Bonnie asks where she’s putting a pie on the windowsill to cool. Apple, by the smell of it, and utterly delicious. 

“Just taking a break, Bonnie. Buck works me to the bone!” He says and collapses on the couch, his spurs jingling as he kicks his feet up over the edge of the sofa and leans his head back, tipping his hat down over his face. He hears Bonnie say something, but he’s already halfway to dreamland. 

Despite only intending to sleep for a few minutes, Osamu naps for the better part of an hour. He only wakes up when he hears the whinny of an unfamiliar horse and quick steps up to the cabin door. Then, an excited set of knocks. 

“Can you get that, Osamu? I’m busy with supper!” Bonnie calls from the kitchen, and he calls back, saying that he would. 

Only to come face to face with you. 

It had been ages since he saw you. He had yet to see you at any significant historical events that he time jumped to. The Titanic, the moon landing. Hell, he hadn’t even seen you during World War Two when he was accidentally drafted!

“You!” He jabs a finger, and you grin adoringly, stepping under his arm and skipping to the kitchen. 

“It’s me, Granny!” You chirp, and he hears a delighted squeal. 

“Dearest! It’s been ages!” 

So you’ve been here before. 

Several times by how familiar Bonnie seemed with you. 

Osamu meanders his way into the kitchen, where Bonnie is wiping her hands on her apron. She grins at the sight of him,

“This is Osamu! He’s been helping Buck around the farm for the last few weeks!” She says, and Osamu tips his hat with a wink. 

“We’ve met before.” He says, and you jump up from where you had been sitting at the dining table and throw your arms around his neck in a tight hug.

“‘samu!” You cheer, and he returns any affection greedily, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He’s still unable to get the sight of your corpse out of his mind. But he vowed that if he ever saw you again, he’d accept any love you’d give him. 

You’re dressed the part of a cowgirl. A long calico skirt and long-sleeved button-down. Your hair is longer than he remembered, tied back in a braid, and a bandana around your neck to protect you from the harsh sun above. Your hat sits on the table, and so do your gloves. 

Your skin is just as soft as he remembers. 

It isn’t long before Buck is called in for dinner, and the four of you eat together. You sit to Osamu’s right, with Bonnie to his left and Buck across from him. You chat happily with the couple, and Osamu is content with just sitting and watching. You tell an obviously edited version of your adventures, with grand sweeping gestures and voices to accompany your tales.

Long after Bonnie and Buck go to bed, Osamu finds you on the swinging bench on the front porch. You’re writing in your journal, about halfway full, and sketching a picture of him.

It’s an incredible likeness to his face and rather impressive to look at. You even got his cowboy hat right.

“Mind if I sit?” He asks, and you jump, slamming your journal shut and looking up with wide eyes. But you realize it’s him, relax, your shoulders sagging, and nod with a smile. The wood creaks as he sits at your side. His arm stretches along the back like it belongs there, and you lean into his side. He relished in your warmth.

“Have we done Rome yet?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“I was thinking of going there next, though!” You say, and he nods, leaning his head against yours.

“How come you never go to big events?” He asks next, and you hum with a shrug,

“I like the little days. I like seeing how people live their day-to-day lives.” You say, and he can’t help but laugh. 

You were truly the exact opposite of him. 

You swat his chest, 

“Don’t laugh at me!” You cry with mock anger, but a smile curls the corners of your mouth. Like you liked hearing him laugh. You give him pause when you lean up and press a kiss to his nose. He freezes, blinks several times, and stares down at you. 

“I love your laugh.” You say, and his smile falters just the slightest bit.

No one liked hearing him laugh.

Not since he left home, at least.

But you were his home now. 

October 31st, 2012

Yokohama, Japan

Fog rolls through the streets of Yokohama. Osamu strolls the streets, hands in his pockets. He was alone. At least for the time being. At least until you showed up again. 

If you showed up again. 

No… You would… Osamu had faith. You usually did on the small days. 

Whenever his nightmares got particularly bad, he’d time jump to a place he thought you’d like. This time, it was Yokohama, Japan. Notably, it was Halloween. Nothing ever happened on Halloween. Well… except for that one time… 

Oh, whatever. 

He had been here for a few months, finding himself at peace in modern-day Japan. He discovered his parent’s graves and realized he was home. 

At least… when he wasn’t with you.

Until he saw you crossing the street. 

You looked younger than he had ever seen you before. Another young girl walked beside you, both of you dressed in Halloween costumes and laughing amongst yourselves. 

But the longer he watched you, the longer he realized something. 

You wouldn’t know who he was. No, no, no, it was much too early for that. He had never seen you so young before. Not even in pictures when you had shown him at Versailles. 

Was this before you began to time jump? 

Suddenly, a hand smacked the back of his head, and he flinched, turning to see his newest acquaintance, Kunikida Doppo. He was shouting something. Something about being a bandage-wasting machine. Something about being a lowlife. He didn’t bother listening. 

Instead, he looked back to see you looking at him. There isn’t the faintest glimpse of recognition in your eyes. Nary a clue of who he is. 

You genuinely don’t know who he is at this point in time. 

You lift a hand and wave with a friendly smile, unknowingly making his heart crack in two. 

So, he turns, walks past Kunikida without a word, and heads back the way he came. 

“Dazai!” Kunikida’s voice, and he hears his acquaintance (He doesn’t have friends. He’s utterly alone in this world.) running up behind him. 

“What is it, Kunikida.” His voice sounds oddly monotone, and he knows he has to get you out of his head before he breaks down. He can’t ever come back here, not without causing a paradox and ripping Yokohama apart. 

And that would mean he would never see you, ever. 

“Are you okay?” Kunikida’s voice makes him stop. He spins with a plastic smile on his face and his heart threading to pieces. 

“Of course I’m okay! What makes you think otherwise?” He titters with an all too fake-sounding laugh. Kunikida looks uncharacteristically solemn. 

“Well… For instance, you’re crying.” He says, concern seeping into his tone. 

Osamu reaches up and touches his cheek, finding that it is indeed wet and glistening with tears. 

[folkwhore1998]

I had a feeling so peculiar, that this pain would be for...evermore

Evermore!!!

Amazing! How lucky are we to live in a world where we get to experience evermore. Imagine being bored in quarantine and being able to just create an incredible work of art.

(in my opinion) We did not get an evermore long pond studio sessions because of the editing on folklore versus evermore. folklore had some vocal editing that didn't capture her voice the way evermore does. go listen to august on folklore and then august on LPSS. numerous songs on folklore have that editing style, but nothing on evermore does.

Evermore is so beautiful and one of my favorite aesthetics. Evermore is a late November-December vibe. I wonder how many songs Taylor actually made during quarantine. Do you think that evermore are the vault tracks from folklore? (As in the songs that just did not quite make it onto folklore)

I actually had a very hard time ranking these songs. I didn't really think I was going to have as hard of a time as I did. I have a pretty consistent ranking of the albums in general and evermore is pretty high up there, but maybe it should move up on the ladder because these songs are just so beautiful.

happiness is an incredibly emotional song that people seem to skip all of the time. In my personal experience, when I've been in long term relationships, I almost become disconnected with the version of who I was prior. When I've broken up these long term relationships, I've have to leave it all behind to rediscover the happiness we held before them. When I've felt so much pain from loss, I can get so blinded by the fact at one point in my life, a person or situation may have been good for me, in a black and white thinking sense. happiness has honestly helped me process hurt and loss, and has helped me to lean into the idea not everything has to be black and white. No one talks about it enough.

I really need to address the performance of evermore on the eras tour. Literal chills. It was one the best live performances she has ever done. I need a live version released on Spotify BIBLICALLY. I wish it would have made the cut for the eras tour movie.

evermore (the song) was one i kind of looked over for awhile. I honestly could not put my finger on what it was for me. After hearing Taylor Swift perform it live at the eras tour... my entire brain chemistry changed. I'm not even being dramatic. It was breathtaking and I cannot believe how quiet the crowd was in all of the videos i have come across. I love that there is a collective agreement that everyone was fucking stunned at how incredible it was.

Here are my rankings of evermore:

marjorie

coney island

happiness

right where you left me

evermore if it is taylor only

tis the damn season

champagne problems

tolerate it

long story short

it's time to go

willow

evermore if it is with bon iver and taylor

gold rush

ivy

dorethea

closure

no body no crime

cowboy like me

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

CHILLS.

I am so surprised that this marjorie made it onto the setlist, but I am so happy it did.

So eloquent- actually the first time I am seeing this.

Check out some of these awesome small businesses on Etsy!

Here is a cutting board with Taylor's chai cookie recipe: Chai cookies just have such an evermore vibe. I gotta get my hands on one of these!

Here is the link to a cowboy like me necklace: Forever is the sweetest con.

@taylornation @taylorswift

[kay-elle-cee]

Okay @sunshinemarauder and @athenasparrow, I believe you both requested silence and patience, pining in anticipation from the Taylor prompt list, so here you go!

Read here on ao3 or under the cut!

“It’s been a shit few months, that’s for sure,” Sirius commiserates, sloshing his third glass of firewhiskey.

James throws a shot back, grimacing. “Thanks,” he deadpans.

“Cheer up, mate.” Sam slides another shot across the table. “You’re better off. I mean…four months and she just moves onto the reserve Chaser after your injury? Fuck her.”

Lily’s quiet, nodding and agreeing with the pair of them. She could add to it…but it might be damning, so she doesn’t. It’s when Sam and Sirius leave to get a new round of drinks, levitating the empties away, that she gets pulled in.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

“No I’m not.”

“Go on,” James prods, a bitter smile curling his lips. “I know you never really cared much for Amy.”

“It’s not that I didn’t—“ The liquor has been flowing too much tonight and those damn eyes of his are fully on her and she almost admits something. She clears her throat as a cover for her interruption. “I guess I just sensed it wasn’t right.”

He sighs, leaning back in chair. “It’s more of a bruise to my ego than anything “

“Oh, we can’t have that.” Her lips quirk up as she takes another sip of her drink, and with his head thrown back and attention off her, she allows herself to look at him. A pang of sadness wraps its way around her heart.

She was with Dirk by the time she realized what she wanted from James. And she had tried to push that down, truly. And when things eventually crumbled, James was…well, he was enjoying his newly minted stardom, and she couldn’t fault him for that.

Lily had told herself that she wasn’t waiting for him, but after three years of half-hearted relationships and a few one night stands, it was painfully obvious (hopefully only to her) that she was just…undoubtedly hung up on James Potter.

“I think I’m done with the whole…dating thing. For a while anyway.”

This pulls her out of her mind, his head snapping up and gaze meeting hers. She blinks. “Oh?”

“Haven’t really been quite successful, have I?”

“Four months is nothing to sneeze at,” she shrugs.

“I suppose. It’s longer than anything you’ve had.”

She offers him a soft, sad smile. It stings, but more for her unsaid feelings than for any of the men who had wandered in and out of her life.

James’ face pales as his brain catches up to his mouth. “Shit. Sorry. It’s the firewhiskey. I didn’t mean to be an arse.”

“You’re not wrong.” Downing the rest of her drink, Lily pushes the glass away only to have James grab her hand.

“Right or not, I shouldn’t have said that.” His thumb brushes against her skin, making her a little breathless, and his eyes almost implore her to hear him. “I’m sorry, Lil.” There’s a fluttering sensation in her stomach, and she finds she has to look away.

“So no more dating, huh?”

“I think…” he trails, staring at somewhere near their hands, “I’ve just been attracting women who were attracted to my status, not to me, you know?”

“I mean, yeah.” James’ attention snaps to her quizzically. “Could you not…see that? Hanging over you when the press was around, anytime we were in public, but being more aloof in private? Using your name to get you into bars and clubs? And I know you made up this whole story about why you stopped bringing women by the manor—”

“Didn’t want to get mum and dad’s hopes up…” he mutters.

“It’s because of how greedily they looked at everything, and we both know it. Sirius and Remus, too,” she throws in for good measure.

“Merlin, was it that obvious?”

“Yes. Did you really not see it?”

“I mean, I must’ve. I’m—I know I’ve taken my fair share of bludgers to the head but I got seven N.E.W.T.s, I’m not a dumb bloke.”

“No one would ever call you dumb. Maybe oblivious sometimes, but not dumb.” She slides her hand out from under his with much mental protest, drumming her nails on the rim of her empty glass.

“But I don’t know…I guess I just thought I’d lean into the spotlight a bit. Maybe it’s what I thought came with the territory.” There’s a mix of sadness and bitterness in his voice. “But I guess that’s all gone to pot now, with the shoulder injury and all.”

“They’re keeping you on ‘til the end of the season though, right?”

“They’ve got to, it’s in my contract.”

“Well then you have time to figure things out,” Lily smiles. “You’ve got those seven N.E.W.T.s after all, and the family business. And the relationship thing…it’ll come. Your fame doesn’t matter; you’ll find someone who is mad about the real you. Don’t lose hope.”

“Don’t think I’m in danger of that with you around.” He flashes her a smile that’s equal parts warm and sarcastic, and fully makes her stomach flip. His eyes sweep her face for a moment before he drops his head back, face towards the ceiling with his eyes closed. “Of course you’re right. You’re always right.” He lets out a humorless laugh.

Unbidden, an image of a younger Lily flits into her mind, shouting by a lake.

“Not always.”

“Yes always. You’re not afraid to call me on my shit, Evans, and I love that about you. Even when it’s embarrassingly public.” He laughs quietly again, sliding a hand down his face, and Lily wonders how their minds immediately jumped to the same incident. “Merlin, d’you remember you once called me a toerag in front of half the bloody school before swearing off of me? I could never bring myself to be mad, though—you were right and I was being a little shit.”

“I didn’t”—she licks her lips nervously, battling a hysterical rise of laughter—“swear off of you.”

“Sure you did. Rather go out with the Giant Squid, wasn’t it?”

All the noise around them in the pub has died away. Now it’s only the two of them…and a high-pitched sort of ringing in Lily’s ears.

“That was me turning you down then. Not…forever.”

His head snaps up and their eyes meet—his nestled under a furrowed brow, swirling dark and molten, the brightness of the light honey flecks twinkling in the deep green. It’s as though the air around her has grown thinner, her lungs having to work twice as hard to breathe.

“What’re you—“

“Fucking finally!” Sirius exclaims, collapsing into his seat as Sam levitates a new tray of drinks—several shots and some tankards of butterbeer for winding down the night—onto the table.

“Bartender was making puppy eyes at a hen party and I thought this one here was going to lose his mind if it took another minute,” Sam laughs, pushing two shots over to Sirius.

Lily hears them, but doesn't really register anything. No, she and James are still caught in a magnetizing stare across the table, furrowed brow giving way to something shocked as understanding dawns. She wants to look away, wants to hide the blush of mortification that’s crawling up her neck at her clunky confession, but she can’t.

Three years of playing it mostly cool, down the drain.

But still, there’s something in those eyes that doesn’t let her heart crash and burn. There’s something there, accompanied by the subtle upward curve of his lips, that makes her stomach tremble with anticipation.

Hope.

[twirlingsmilingwriting]

Hunger Games Characters as Taylor Swift songs PART 2!!

I know these aren't popular like the fan fiction on my account but I love mixing my music and intrests so ima do a PART TWO

Johanna Mason

Mad Woman- Taylor Swift, Folklore

"Does a scorpion sting when fighting back? They strike to kill and you know I will"

Honestly, it's so hard to find just one lyric in this song that I felt like truly highlights her because the whole song is literally her. Especially the last verse. Like "'Cause you took everything from me, Watchin' you climb, Watchin' you climb Over people like me The master of spin Has a couple side flings Good wives always know She should be mad Should be scathing like me" THAT JUST FEELS SO MUCH LIKE HOW SHE VIEWS SNOW. He took everything from her and she was just sitting back ready to take him and the rest of the capital down with it. Also, I love her.

Katniss Everdeen

Eyes Open- Taylor Swift, Red

"In backyards, winning battles with our wooden swords. But now we've stepped into a cruel world. Where everybody stands and keeps score"

OKAY ADMITTEDLY THIS IS A SELL OUT BECAUSE THIS SONG WAS ON THE HUNGER GAMES OTHER SOUND TRACK BUT, it is quite literally her song. Side note but this song is so sad but sounds so happy. I love when Ms. Swift does songs like this. But yeah from the first verse describing how they were just kids then one day got thrown into the cruel and harsh world of the hunger games. Also the part talking about "they never thought you'd make it this far" makes so much sense because the girl from district 12 is always seen as the runt of the picks, the one who isn't supposed to win, BUT SHE DID!! Honestly, if yall can think of another song that fits her character please let me know. I have some honorable mentions

A Place in This World- Debut: honestly, I think this song really describes her thought process going into the hunger games. She was just trying to survive and keep her family safe. Even when she was thrown into being the head figure of the Revolution, she never wanted that position, she just got thrown into it. She was just walking along the path set for her. Even the line "maybe I'm just a girl on a mission but I'm ready to fly" makes sense to me because she IS the mocking jay.

Only Me When I'm With You- Debut: So Peniss coded (Peeta X Katniss)

I Know Places- 1989: Also Peniss coded

I Did Something Bad- Reputation: Killing president coin, pushing forth with the revolution,

Sujanus Plinth

Only The Young- Taylor Swift, Miss Americana

"You did all that you could do, the game was rigged, the ref got tricked, the wrong ones think they're right. You were outnumbered, this time"

Honestly, the whole thing reminds me of his reaction to the games. Also the whole song is about how only the young can change the future and Sujanus's character really showed that spirit. He was trying to make a change but unfortunately, he trusted the whole people and the odds were stacked against him.

Haymitch Abernathy

Champagne Problems- Taylor Swift, Evermore

""This dorm was once a madhouse" I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me"

He has em. Simple as that. (alcoholism)

Seriously though this song reminds me of him more so because of the concept of it. Champagne problems is a term used to describe issues that seem rather trivial, unimportant, and I feel like a lot people tend to disregard all the genuine things Haymitch had gone through. The story of the song also is about a marriage that never happened, it also has undertones of lost family and friends. As we know, Haymitch lost his girlfriend and family to the capital. He never got to marry her because she was taken from him.

Lucy Gray

My Tears Ricochet- Taylor Swift, Folklore

"And I still talk to you when I'm screaming at the sky. And when you can't sleep at night you hear my stolen lullabies"

LETS BE HONEST, SHE IS SO FOLK-EVERMORE CODED. I could dissect this song for ages explaining why it's the perfect example of what Lucy Gray would be saying indirectly to Snow. Firstly,

"Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe All the hell you gave me? 'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you 'Til my dying day"

CUZ NO SHE DID NOT DESERVE WHAT SNOW PUT HER THROUGH. She loved him truly, deeply, but when it came down to it, she knew she could never trust him. Especially with the position he put her in. She could go anywhere she wants but not home after Snow made it seem like she killed the mayors daughter. And then the part

"I didn't have it in myself to go with grace And you're the hero flying around, saving face And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet"

She didn't go with grace. She left in a flash, deep with mystery. She has to hide for the rest of her life while he gets to be the proud hero and savior to Panem. The second half of the main chorus is so true to how Coryo was acting when they were in the forest in that last scene. He was quite literally cursing her name, wishing she'd stayed.

"You know I didn't want to have to haunt you But what a ghostly scene You wear the same jewels that I gave you As you bury me"

JEWELS? HER EARRING??? HELLOOOOOOOO and then the "as you bury me" HE DOESN'T KNOW IF SHE DEAD OR NOT BUT IF SHE IS, HE KILLED HER. HE BURRED HER AND TOOK HER EARRING.

"But you would still miss me in your bones And I still talk to you (when I'm screaming at the sky) And when you can't sleep at night (you hear my stolen lullabies)"

She had such a hold on him, he still remembers her years later, haunted by her memory. the song constantly references the "Haunting". The "I still talk to you when I'm screaming at the sky" reminded me of the way the mocking jays carried her voice all around the sky. And the last line was so clearly connecting to 'The Hanging Tree' in my brain. Many years later, Katniss sang the same song she did to lead a rebellion against him. His life is haunted by her memories and cursed by it. He can't escape her anywhere.

The tears he made her spill simply ricocheted into bullets that hit him instead.

Effie Trinket

Bejeweled- Taylor Swift, Midnights

"Best believe I'm still bejeweled. When I walk in the room,I can still make the whole place shimmer"

MS. EFFIE TRINKET IS THE BADDEST BITCH BRO OMG I LOVEEEEE HER. STYLE ICON. Listen, no matter what happens to that woman, shes gonna shine. A diamonds gotta SHINE. She is always the most sparkly, eye catching person out there at ALL TIMES! Even without all the glitz and glamour she is still so iconic. She is ALWAYS bejeweled.

[ofepiphxny]

✧ ― 𝐑𝐇𝐘𝐍𝐄 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍

〈  daniel sharman  /  cis man  /  he + him  /  36 (360) 〉in the great land of prythian, RHYNE EVERSTON of the AUTUMN COURT (FROM SPRING COURT) begins their journey towards a new future. known to be RESOURCEFUL AND AMBITIOUS, their suspected BLUNT AND CALCULATING habits might prove to be their undoing. if the fae could compose a song for them, it could tell stories of CALCULATING GAZES SHIFTING THROUGH THE CROWDS, THE MEMORIES OF WAR NEVER QUITE SUBSIDING, AMBITIOUS INTENT LINGERING WITHIN EACH STEP, AND TIGHT SMILES THAT HOLD MORE BEHIND THEM. the fates whispers to the EMISSARY OF THE AUTUMN COURT and it is said that their loyalties lie with AUTUMN COURT & PRYTHIAN. only time will tell if the HIGH FAE has what it takes to live amongst the ruin.

name: rhyne (rine) everston nicknames: rhy face claim: daniel sharman pronouns & gender: he/him & cis man orientation: pansexual, panromantic age: 36/360 date of birth: april 22nd zodiac sign: taurus place of birth: the spring court court: the autumn court position: emissary species: high fae abilities: spring court specific magic (plant manipulation – competent, shapeshifting – novice), winnowing, hasn’t learned autumn court magic family: unknown father (status unknown), ollana everston (mother; deceased), brea everston (older sister; deceased), serrah everston (younger sister; deceased) moral alignment: true neutral mbti: istj enneagram: 5w6 vice & virtue: envy & diligence character inspos: derek hale (teen wolf), sasuke uchiha (naruto), azriel (acotar) inspo songs: stories by jackson guthy i’ll be good by jaymes young lost in the moment by nf and andreas moss exile by taylor swift and bon iver dying in la by panic! at the disco our house by you me at six ━ history (death tw, murder tw) (tl;dr below)

Spring used to bring a sense of peace. Now it was a reminder of the opposite. Rhyne could still remember the fields of flowers, rolling green hills, and music filling halls. But perhaps the Spring Court was always fated to go down a dark path despite the beautiful surroundings outwardly whispering otherwise to the ignorant. The High Lord at the time had made a truce with dark forces, a cruel domino effect unleashing as a result. Rhyne’s elder sister and younger sister, with Rhy the middle child, stuck close to each other during this time, attempting to stay out of trouble. Battles erupted throughout Prythian, all while there were a few fought within Spring Court too. Those who tried rebelling, only to be met with harsh ends. But even innocents were used as part of the warnings, threats signifying that this was what would happen if you didn’t obey the hierarchy of power.

Rhyne’s youngest sister, a sweet girl who was merely a bystander, was killed in front of him and his other sister. She had been there, not harming anybody, holding her basket of freshly picked flowers she would usually sell to the citizens. The flowers fell to the ground, trampled on and forgotten. Rhy had seen red. He remembered clearly. It was only his elder sister who kept him from doing something that would’ve gotten him killed too. Rhy had never been a warrior, barely ever wielded a knife. If anything, it was the sister who held him back who had always been much stronger and more tactful. Beyond that, much wiser. Even as grief had struck her too. Wise even then. Their sister’s burial had been hard, Rhyne having held one of her favorite flowers in his hands as if it were the most delicate thing ever. He had placed it upon her grave, whispering a broken apology that may as well have been lost to the wind.

A few months went by with careful planning. Members of the court had hatched a plan to escape, to try and find refuge in the neighboring courts. Intentions to defect from the harsh rule they wanted no part of and were sick of. Various faes silently prayed that stealth was on their side as they made for Autumn Court territory. But guards were alerted not long after and intercepted them. But the downcast look on Rhyne’s face flickered to sheer bafflement as his elder sister pulled out her sword to start fighting them off. Two others followed suit to assist her. “Go!” she had shouted. “Go, Rhy! And don’t look back!” His sister’s face and those last words still haunted him. A shuttering chill had run through him as she was being cut down, just as his feet began taking him through that tunnel. The guilt Rhyne felt had never subsided. He was a coward that day. He left her even if she had ordered him – pleaded him – to do so.

Spring greens were replaced by the reds and oranges of the Autumn Court. Not only due to his new surroundings, but also the clothes off his back, as if washing off the past. For the ones who made it across, they were a little surprised at Autumn’s acceptance of their arrival. It wasn’t that it was right off the bat, but it didn’t take as long as they had braced themselves for. But maybe any deflectors from their adversaries were welcome when they had common enemies. Rhy, on the other hand, had been a mess and blacked out for what felt like days after that. And it took a while, but he gradually began accepting more of the hands outstretched toward him. Both of his sisters were gone now, and something had changed in him. A light in his eyes had dimmed. He had become less sociable. Blunter. Even started learning to fight, enough to not be helpless like he had felt before.

He began helping the Autumn Court with information too. Having been a Spring Court deflector, anything would be invaluable. After the queen’s sacrifice, war had started to subside. Maybe on the battlefield, but battles still played in the hearts and minds of those in Prythian like haunting violins. After dismissing the offer several times, Rhyne eventually accepted the role as emissary. That was around fifty years ago. Even now, it is still difficult for him to step foot onto Spring Court territory on Autumn business. But he does it. Maybe the wounds will eventually heal all together but so far, time has felt like a blur. ━ tl;dr

Rhyne grew up alongside fields of flowers, rolling green hills, and music filling halls in the Spring Court, but the court ended up going down a dark path

Their High Lord at the time made a truce with Hybern, and Rhyne and his sisters stuck close to each other during this time, trying to stay out of trouble

There were some rebels in the Spring Court who tried going against the new hierarchy but were punished, including with death

Rhyne’s youngest sister was someone who was used as an example, killed even though she was an innocent as a threat to everyone else thinking of picking fights

Months later, a few Spring Court members planned an escape to deflect to other courts, this group including Rhyne and his remaining elder sister

They were intercepted at the borders, and his sister and others fought off the guards to allow the remainders to escape, Rhy included

Fleeing to the Autumn Court, he helped them with information on Spring, and he eventually became the emissary for his new court

━ headcanons

Whenever he’s in spring court on emissary duties, he’ll visit where his sisters’ graves are and also what used to be their childhood home

Usually keeps a flower or two in his pocket because they remind him of his youngest sister, who loved flowers and used to put them in his hair too

Doesn’t fight much but has learned general combat, and usually at least carries around a dagger and/or short sword

Is more of a minimalist and has a pretty small home that he hasn’t bothered decorating

[doll-elvis]

Why did Elvis not have full sex with a lot of women he dated

some of y’all’s questions never fail to make my mouth drop- but thank you for the ask!! 😃

I actually do think this is an interesting subject although a little awkward to discuss so I just wanna say a disclaimer:

I obviously didn’t know Elvis in real life, I’m not a psychologist, and only Elvis knows why he did the things he did, all we can do is speculate based on the sources that we have

so based on what I have read I think the reason he often preferred foreplay as opposed to penetrative s*x had to do with both his physical body and his religious/southern/conservative upbringing

According to Lamar Fike “He didn’t like penetration that much because he was uncircumcised, and sometimes intercourse tore his foreskin and he’d bleed”

Marty Lacker also commented “Elvis was a little ashamed of being uncircumcised. Maybe he thought it was old-fashioned or kind of country. He mentioned once that s*x was a little painful sometimes because the foreskin tore”

Elvis was born at home and Gladys and Vernon, like many parents, couldn’t afford to have the procedure done. For some reason there is a stigma against uncircumcised men in the U.S and I often see it being associated with uncleanliness (which is probably why Elvis showed Joyce Bova how he cleaned it, iykyk🤧) However for Elvis I think he also saw it as a mark of his impoverished upbringing like Marty Lacker suggested and reportedly Elvis referred to little Elvis as a “hillbilly pecker”

And in the later years I understand that the prescription medication often made Elvis impotent, also I’m sure he just suffered from general exhaustion considering how much performed

Lamar Fike said “Dr. Nick wasn’t giving Elvis testosterone just to make him more virile onstage. Shit, no. He gave it to him for impotence. You couldn’t dope up that much and get a hard-on if Elizabeth Taylor stuck her ass in your face”

Peggy Lipton who he briefly dated said: “A heavy making out and petting session ensued. The petting went on for a quite a while. And then we made love. Or tried to… he was virtually impotent because of the drugs”

However I think it’s untrue to say that Elvis never enjoyed intercourse. According to Barbara Leigh whenever her and Elvis hooked up they would often consummate twice in one night. Joyce Bova and Diana Goodman also gave some very descriptive and frequent stories of their s*x life with him in their books 👀 and of course there have been a lot more women who have said they went all the way with him

Sheila Ryan said “We did have a very active passionate romantic life. Sometimes more than I was ready for, prepared for. Sometimes I was tired and it was ‘no, no, no’. So, you know, I’m really surprised to hear that other women had a problem with the lack of intimacy and s*x”

(once again I wish I was Sheila Ryan in the 70s !!)

Anyways, as I said before I also think his religious and southern upbringing had a lot to do with how he viewed s*x

Joe Esposito said “Despite his s*xual escapades, Elvis had a disarming naïveté when it came to women and s*x. Deep down, he believed s*x and fatherhood were for marriage”

Elvis was raised in and believed in a culture where s*x was strictly for marriage and so he simply found other ways to please himself. I also think he occasionally felt religious guilt for acting out s*xually so that is why he sometimes tried to be fully abstinent, like that one time in the 60s he told Priscilla that he had to learn to control himself from lust

Y’all know when Lana Del Rey said in the national anthem monologue “I always got the sense that he became torn between being a good person and missing out on all of the opportunities that life could offer a man as magnificent as him”?

That quote has always reminded me of Elvis😭!!

I think he was stuck between his love for women (plus the fact that so many were available to him) and his religious upbringing (believing that s*x and virginity were something sacred)

what do y’all think?

[got-into-worm-by-mistake]

Arc 1, Reflections

Well, Arc 1 down, time to reflect.

First and foremost, I do like it. I mean, I'm not really happy in some ways that I'm committing myself to reading this whole thing, and a significant part of the reason I'm reading worm now is because I have fic ideas I developed after reading all the discussions I read and reading various fanfics, and I at least have enough self-respect as a fanfic writer to believe one needs to read the source material to write fanfic about it.

Also spite, tbh. Because while yes, one cannot have a completely informed opinion about things that happen in a story without consuming that story, one can still have a reasonably informed opinion under some circumstances, and I'm going to find out if my opinion on the thing is the same once I've read the whole thing. (I was going to read it eventually anyway, or so was the plan, but spite plays a role in why now. If my opinion doesn't change, I'll feel vindicated, if it does, I'll never mention the previous thing again and pretend it never happened).

Anyway:

As a first arc, there's not that much that happens apart from the Lung Fight (which is like saying not much happens in the first half of a New Hope that isn't Darth Vader killing Obi-Wan, I suppose), but there's some vital establishing character moments, key worldbuilding, and a ton of tantalizing questions left open - what caused Taylor to be hospitalized? Where did the powers come from? If you judge the timelines around, the two are linked, obviously.

Why do Emma, Sophia and Madison hate her? Why is the school system quite this fucking broken (Which, tbh, I don't really buy. Each part of the bullying feels realistic, but the whole picture *and* the sheer degree by which the system is just... doing nothing, really does strain credulity. There's a reason a lot of fanfics use various fanon explanations to try to make sense of it. As a whole, it all feels a bit gratuitous).

I believe I heard once that Wildbow tried out a lot of main characters for this story before settling on Taylor, and I wonder what it is about Taylor in particular that made him think it was such a good choice. She doesn't seem a bad choice, and obviously without Taylor Worm either doesn't exist or is unrecognizable, so obviously it worked out.

Danny wants to be a good dad, and just... can't. There's too much going on, crossing that distance is hard, and each day it gets harder.

Taylor desperately wants to be a hero, but stumbles right out of the gate.

Armsmaster is a hero, but he's also a bit of a prick, even if his prickishness in this scene has been overstated.

The powers and the way they work, such as we know of them, are fascinating to think about so far. How do they interact, what cancels what, etc? I can certainly see why this story would have hit Spacebattles's buttons so very hard - right at the start you get the seemingly weak power being overoptimized and used to nearly take down a guy like Lung, who is presented as a huge hitter. Sure, it take's Bitch's dogs to really take him down at the end, but even then, the dogs alone probably wouldn't have been enough either.

But when Taylor used her powers cleverly, along with a bit of luck, and then the fortuitous arrival of the Undersiders to help finish the job... well, in the end, it does rather work.

Overall, I can also see why people bitch about TINO so much - though I suspect a lot of that is people not understanding things like different interpretations or not thinking about how different experiences will change a person - but also, I can see why it would come up so much.

Taylor's voice is a little hard to pick out, because... well, it's all Taylor's voice except in the interludes. But the writing in the main chapters (of Arc 1 anyway)... it feels more like... narration that is detached, than by a character who's right there in it all, feeling the emotions.

Honestly, I felt more emotional depth from Danny in his 3rd person interlude than I did from Taylor in her 1st person main story, at least pound for pound.

Not that we don't get any hints of Taylor's emotional state at various places, we do, but it feels much more... tell, rather than show.

Which may be a function of the way Taylor acts and feels, especially after a year and a half of bullying, but I also think it's a limitation of the 1st person narration, tbh.

There's a reason why I don't really care for it. Not enough to make me not read it, but enough to be noticeable.

Anyway, all this aside, I do like it. Fic ideas or spite aside, if I didn't enjoy it, I wouldn't choke it down. I'm not that kind of masochist, nor do I have that kind of time.

[jewishbarbies]

Swifties are already shifting the blame to Joe for the way Taylor depicts their relationship because not only does there ALWAYS need to be a bad guy for them but the bad guy can never be Taylor. I’ve seen Joe being ridiculed for ‘not fighting hard enough for their relationship’ which is just insane when we simply look at Taylor’s behavior since the release of midnights. She quite literally made a whole song about how they didn’t need to be married to be any more or less in love then turns around and writes a song pouting about Joe supposedly not wanting to get married. Taylor has talked about this before that she falls in love too quickly but I don’t even think that’s the problem. Taylor is obsessed with a love that’s worth writing about, she wants good guys and bad guys and drama and pain. healthy long lasting love that requires some thought for the other person involved and emotional labor has never been exciting enough for her. moral of the story is: taylor could write a song entitled ‘joe was boring and i left him for a nazi’ and swifties would still be saying “joe wtf i can’t believe you did that to her ???”

that last line- 💀

the way they victim blame joe when taylor is very clear in her lyrics from the beginning that she’s toxic and needs to work on it, starting with shit back in reputation and lover, yet we’re supposed to believe that Joe was the toxic one now that it’s over? just because it ended? it makes no fucking sense istg.

[theblogtini]

This will be a long ask lol, but I just wanted to say that I think a reason that I am over Harry and Meghan is because the entire country is over them. I mean, Omids book and naming the “rAcIsT rOyAlS” should be a huge deal, but outside of H&M tumblr and royal circles, no one cares! I haven’t seen many, if anyone at all talking about their claims against Catherine.

Enough time has passed after George Floyd and the Oprah interview, and the heightened emotions those events stirred, that people have moved past Harry and Meghan’s claims. And now people feel more comfortable calling out parts of their story that never made sense or added up; as well as feeling comfortable enough to say they are done with the whining. And they could not have picked a worse time for this “bombshell”, as we are grappling with what is happening in Gaza and our upcoming elections. Heck, even the entertainment industry and pop enthusiasts don’t care…they only care about the romance between Taylor Seift and Travis Kelce 😭

Like, at this point, I don’t even care about them getting their karma, I kind of feel like being absolutely irrelevant is almost punishment enough lol.

I think another contributing factor is Meghan and Harry themselves.

When it first came out, after nearly a year of silence, it was shocking! But now - after 3 years of continuous bitching, whining, lying, etc people are like "Oh you know what... that first bit... I don't think that was true. And all the stuff after that, definitely not true."

Harry and Meghan's biggest problem is that they didn't quit when they were ahead. They should have just done the Oprah interview and then shut their mouths. People would still be on their side.

But they just. kept. going.

And the more they talked, the more holes they put in their own story... and the more annoying they got.

[spade-riddles]

Hi Spade;

I have been reviewing the 🎃 thread along with some other ideas, and here are my thoughts

-If we believe her Midnights album was her metaphorical transitioning from the closet/the idea of two personas of her (her public performance art and actual private life), starting with Lavender Haze speaks volumes. The album was still released when she and Joe were together and she was very private. She also hasn't finished acquiring her Master's back yet, which I believe is what she wants before considering fully coming out based on the Spades timeline and Lover release. Anyway....

I don't recall any songs previously talking about daughters or sons in law. She specifically references a daughter in law in Anti-Hero. This makes me think she is referencing a future daughter in law to a son that already exists (Karlie). Karlie also showed up to her last LA show, clearly intending to be seen in the general audience...what. weeks postpartum???? To someone she hasn't talked to in ages? Also.... Taylor was NOTABLY private during this time..to hide suspicion of her new family??? The rubies that 🎃 gave up?? Being recognized as a mother, being able to be public about her child? Very speculative but fascinating. It seems as though she did something drastic to protect them. "🎃's not a hero, but..." we all know Taylor as the type of person to fiercely protect those she loves. She describes herself as self conscious and terrified of her own shadow in AH, as 🎃 does in the Selfish Asshole narrative. But not when it comes to protecting the people she cares about. Her lover was ready to make the sacrifice, but 🎃 refused to let her as she had already been through enough (toxic relationship with Kushner?)

Connect this with the imagery of a safe home, literal buns in the oven from the 🎃 post-- (all shortly posted after Karlie's second pregnancy announcement); with the story of the person who essentially quit their job too soon (Joe) and threatening to out her (also possibly Joe). I've gotten the vibe ever since the relationship ended, before even discovering all of the 🎃 today that perhaps it was toxic and made her retreat into herself because she has been glowing post ending-of-Joe. If so, then spidey senses aligned. Perhaps it was toxic for them both to be in the situation, I don't know. Joe clearly never really spoke about her or referenced her in any of his public appearances. Maybe someone caught on.

It also makes the onset of Travis make more sense, especially because it started with him seeking her out and friendship bracelets ETC (seems like a savvy PR strategy..). Matty was damage control and it showed; but her relationship with Ice Spice has flourished and that is awesome.

I also come back to 🎃's comments in #4 and #5; with Travis (also similar behavior to 1989 TV, read some awesome theories on her using this as a similar time frame to prove a point about the media being ready to do it all over again). That we should roll these new ideas around in our head (Travis, 1989TV Prologue) but hang on to what feels right while the rest of her plan plays out and she is safe. My assumption is the full acquisition of her masters; my further assumption is that Scooter (the enemy, though could also have dual representation with Josh maybe?) has been threatening her with blackmail this entire time. Additionally, these later messages are timed around Halloween, the same time of her 1989 TV release (if you count Halloweekend).

It seems the end is for 🎃 to fully embrace herself; again, perhaps at the release of her last TV album - and end the dual version of herself, although this seems confusing for her. I imagine the pain 🎃 experiences with the doorknob is the fear people calling her a hypocrite all these years; to her losing a theoretical amount fans (would be catastrophic for her as we know in Miss Americana). But it sounds like the end reasoning is visibility is resolution.

Thanks for reading.

[vianwrites]

So, I decided to continue with that previous Trimberly fanfic I did? And, this time it's on Kimberly's side of the story...so, yeah...ended up making it multi-chapter? Sort of? I'm not really sure how well I am doing with this, but I hope I am doing well.

Anyways, here's the second part/companion piece to Eyes Open (Trini's Version). The title of this one is Jump and Fall (Kimberly's Version)...and, yeah, pulling titles from Taylor Swift's discography because, why not? Will be postin this on AO3 and Wattpad as well. Anywho...this fic goes like this:

Kimberly Hart sat at her desk in her room, the soft vibrant hues of the cloudy afternoon sun basked her room with enough light that she didn’t need to open the lamp by her desk. She sat there for a reason, had been seated at her desk for much of the afternoon already. And, in all honesty, she should have been focusing on the opened textbooks in front of her, on the notebooks strewn haphazardly on her desk, on school assignments demanding her attention. But they ended up all fading to the background, like they were unimportant set pieces. Instead of diving into algebraic equations or historical dates, grammar and the proper use of punctuation, Kimberly found herself lost in a maze of thoughts and emotions as she tapped to a random rhythm with her pen.

It had been a whirlwind these past few months—months that felt like years. A whirlwind of emotions and events. It had been months since she made that brash and reckless action—some would call it a boneheaded move, a social suicide—that ended up destroying her reputation, getting her status as the ‘Queen Bee’ revoked and made her a pariah in school. That led her to a path she never dreamed would even be one possible to trudge on. It was so impossible and fantastical and something straight out of a comic book. It also led her to people—outcasts and misfits, like herself—that she would form a connection with. To people she would call her “family” and would call her theirs.

If she were to be honest, it felt like a lifetime ago. She felt as though the person she was then and the person she was now were from two different alternate universes. And, in the midst of all the drama, all the training and the struggles of trying to morph and the disappointment and frustration that came with failing to do so, witnessing a friend die and be revived, and almost dying herself in the process of defending their town...yeah, she would like to think that she had changed quite a bit. All the Rangers—Jason, Billy, Zack, and Trini—had.

But, in the midst of her thoughts of her journey as the Pink Ranger thus far, there was one thing that stood out to her as clear as daylight: the surprising bond she had forged with Trini Gomez, the Yellow Ranger. It was, if she was being honest, she had never thought Trini would be her closest in their friend group. After all, Trini wasn’t exactly easy to get along with. At least, not from the start.

The lonesome girl had been wary of her, and for good reasons. Still, they did end up getting along and now she considers Trini her best friend and knows the other girl thinks of her that way as well.

Suffice to say, it wasn’t the first time the Yellow Ranger wormed her way into the other girl’s thoughts.

Still, no matter how many times it has happened, it always managed to surprise her. She wasn’t doing it on purpose, so it wasn’t something she comes to expect at times or even sought after. But, regardless, it always had a way of creeping up to her. Sometimes it came slowly and insidiously. Other times it came like a freight train that comes barreling with such unstoppable speed and force. Regardless of how those thoughts invaded, they were always impossible to ignore. There was just something about Trini—her strong sense of individuality and fierce independence, rebelliousness to conforming to societal norms and social hierarchies, the confidence she seemed to carry that belied her years, and the juxtaposition she found with her hardened facade to her soft caring attitude.

She was captivated by the way Trini carried herself; captivated by the way her lips would quirk into a genuine smile—often a rare occasion to others, but one that had become somewhat of a norm recently whenever they have hung out together; captivated by the way Trini had been treating her as of late.

And yet behind that ruggedness that she showed and the lone wolf attitude she had initially portrayed, Kimberly found a multi-faceted girl that drew her in, like a moth to that proverbial flame.

When Trini was with her, Kimberly couldn't shake the feeling of solace and peace she felt. It was like a warm embrace, a fluffy blanket of comforting presence in the midst the hectic chaos that their life had become. At the same time, there was always something lingering—like a spark just about ready to ignite—whenever they interacted, making her feel something akin to an adrenaline rush. Kimberly found herself seeking out Trini's gaze, drawn to the warmth and depth of her brown eyes, deep and soulful.

As the Pink Ranger sat there in her room, she couldn’t help but wonder why she felt that way about Trini. Why did she crave Trini's approval, seek out her company, cherish each interaction they had together? Why did she feel a sense of loss whenever Trini wasn't around. Like a piece of her was, not necessarily incomplete but, missing? It wasn’t like that with the other Rangers. And, to be honest, she doesn’t remember it being the same way with anybody else. Well, there was somebody else, but that was before he cheated on her and—

—And then, like a bolt of lightning, it hit her.

This undeniable attraction she felt towards Trini was more than just admiration, more than just respect. It felt like it had morphed—pardon the pun—from something more than just friendship and a sense of camaraderie. It was now something deeper, more profound; something simple but yet oh so complicated. Something she had never felt before with another girl.

She had feelings for Trini. Feelings that went beyond platonic, more than just mere friendship.

The thought terrified her. Her mind couldn’t quite wrap itself around such an epiphany. She had never considered herself anything but straight. She had never entertained nor imagined the thought of being attracted to another girl, much more falling in love with one. But, as she sat there in her mess of a room it, strangely and jarringly, made undeniable sense to her, like puzzle pieces being put in quick succession into place.

It frightened her as much as it elated her. It made her heart skip a bit and thundered between her rib cage. Her chest constricting and breath hitching at the realization of her own desires; of acknowledging the possibility of her own queerness and sexuality and of the path her heart had suddenly decided to open up for her.

As she wrestled with these conflicting emotions, she caught glimpse of the photo she had tacked on the wall near her desk: the photo of the Power Rangers, taken as a group, during the celebratory campfire they had after Rita’s defeat. Her eyes gravitated and fixated themselves on Trini standing next to her in the photograph, grinning widely, skin glowing with the light of the campfire’s flames, and memories of her interactions with the shorter girl flooded her mind—from their first exchange and the chase that followed and every memory since.

But one memory stood out above all others: that night at the campfire.

In the midst of Zack’s suggestion to share about themselves���a proposition that irked Kimberly at that time despite what merits may be gained, what with not wanting to talk about the whole Amanda-thing and the shame that came with what she had done—in the hopes that they would trust each other more and be able to morph, Kimberly witnessed the strength and resilience beneath the tough exterior of one Trini Gomez. She saw the vulnerability and uncertainty hidden behind Trini’s bravado. After all, it takes quite a lot of courage to speak up about one’s insecurities the way the shorter girl had.

In that moment, Kimberly had felt a sense of awe and wonder at Trini, whom she initially thought was just someone with a lot of pent up rage and angst personified in such a small body. She felt something begin to form with the Yellow Ranger and with her desire to try and emulate such strength and get to know Trini further, get her to share more, to open up more.

That connection solidified itself and grew into actual friendship when Trini pulled her locker door out of its hinges after it had been vandalized and had offered her own locker for Kimberly to use. It was an act that she didn’t think she would be receiving from anyone. Certainly not something Trini would instigate without much egging. Granted, she didn’t know much about the girl at that time, but up until then Trini was pretty much aloof with her. They talked, yes, but she didn’t get a sense that the girl had any desire to be protective of her outside of their training until that moment. So, yes, that had come as a surprise. So much so that she distinctly remembered herself being at a loss for words.

And now, as Kimberly sat there in her room, her heart heavy and wrestling with longing and uncertainty, she couldn’t help but wonder what it now all meant for her. Did she really crave for something more? It did feel that way. Did she want to do something about it? More importantly, does Trini feel the same way? Does she want to risk what she had with Trini in favor of what they could have if the feeling was mutual? What would her parents say? What would everyone think? So many questions, one after the other, bubbled up to the forefront of her mind.

Any other day and those questions would have been ones she would be avoiding for weeks, pushing it to the back of her mind in favor of what little bit of normalcy was left in her life. After all, things were changing too fast, she wanted to slow down a bit. But now, there was nothing to occupy her mind with. It was simply fixated on the possibilities that lay before her...that was, if Trini did feel the same way.

And, she knew she was reckless. She knew it was, perhaps, her fatal flaw. Her recklessness was often tied to her emotional state—on what she was feeling at the moment and that energy being converted into some spontaneous action. It was that recklessness that often landed her into all sorts of messes in the past, and would no doubt continue to do so in the future. Especially when she does something without fully analyzing the consequence her actions would bring to herself or to others.

It was that sudden impulsiveness that had Kimberly reach for her phone, unlock it, and with trembling fingers type out and send a message to Trini without so much as second guessing what she was doing.

“Hey Trini, can we talk? It’s important.”

Yeah, if things went south, she could blame it on that. Or own up to it with the fact that one of the things she had learned with this whole ordeal with Rita was she shouldn’t take things for granted; that when the time to act came, she must be decisive about it, act on it. No regrets. Because you only live once, and once should be enough.

As recent as the revelation of her feelings for her best friend was, Kimberly felt it was time for her to come into terms with them, to explore them, to understand them and herself. And who better to do that with than Trini? She just hoped the other girl felt the same way.

As the three dots appeared on her messenger signifying Trini writing a message, Kimberly felt a rush of adrenaline course through her veins.

Yes, this was uncharted territory for her. She didn’t know where this would lead her. It was the same with becoming the Pink Ranger and, well, she’d like to think she handled that as well as it she could—maybe even better than she think she would, all things considered.

Yeah, positive thoughts and all that.

With that thought in mind, she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, only opening them when her phone notified her of Trini’s reply.

“I’ll be there in a few,” it had said.

[happi-tree]

kiss me on the sidewalk (take away the pain)

Taylor’s dealt with enough of this tragic angst bullshit for a lifetime.

So when he hears a large thump behind him and whirls around to see Lincoln Li-Wilson collapsed on the cracked sidewalk and bleeding profusely with no healers in sight, Taylor doesn’t quite believe what he’s seeing, because this is not how things are supposed to go.

Or: Lincoln takes a hit for Taylor, and Taylor is left alone to hold his friend together until help arrives.

ao3

Hi, guys, new dndads fic! Wanted to get this one out before the episode drops and just barely made it in time. Enjoy some swiftli hurt/comfort!

Being the main character is not all it’s cracked up to be, sometimes.

Sometimes, you grow up never knowing your dad, but it’s all super cool because he abandoned you erased your memories of him for the plot left to protect you. Just another reason why it makes sense that Taylor Swift is the chosen one.

Well, not the Chosen One, but Taylor and his friends chose this for themselves (since nobody else was getting shit done), and he kind of thinks that’s cooler. 

Anyway. Taylor is the main character of this story (because fuck Normal, real life is anime if he has anything to say about it), and he has plenty of tragedy that enables him to back this theory up. 

Taylor’s nearly died a handful of times - to the point where he’s literally had his head severed from his body. He’s watched his father get cut in half, and most recently, his mom lost nearly her whole arm since he let his arch-nemesis (Willy, that fucker) get too close.

The point is, Taylor’s seen enough jacked-up shit at this point, and he can just feel the way that they’re nearly through with their quest. All that’s left, really, is to put the Big Bad in his place (six feet under, of course) and then they can timeskip to where he and his friends are all older and happy and maybe some of them are dating or married or have kids and they all meet up for dinner and drinks once a month. 

Taylor’s dealt with enough of this tragic angst bullshit for a lifetime. 

So when he hears a large thump behind him and whirls around to see Lincoln Li-Wilson collapsed on the cracked sidewalk and bleeding profusely with no healers in sight, Taylor doesn’t quite believe what he’s seeing, because this is not how things are supposed to go. 

Golden strands of magic arc like lightning from Link’s outstretched hand toward one of the two dozen or so Doodlerized assailants that Willy decided to sic on them, and Taylor keeps its phoenix-bright comet-tail in his peripheral vision. 

Just looking at Link’s light directly is enough to blind Taylor, he’s found, sprinting forward with a silent casting of Zephyr Strike as the spell goes wide. 

Heh. Looks like Taylor’s newfound foe is too disoriented to prepare themself. 

With two quick flashes of his blade, another body drops to the ground.

Taylor quickly divests the corpse of its gun and wills his hands to stop shaking as he flicks the safety on and pockets the weapon, turning on his heel and running back for his friend.

“H-hey, you got ‘im,” Link says weakly as Taylor kneels down in front of him. “Good job.”

“Thanks. Fuck,” Taylor says, with feeling, as he wracks his brain for any information from the countless survivalist’s first aid books he’s read over the years and coming up short because there is so much blood. Because there is a veritable puddle of red blooming around Link, and his jersey is absolutely soaked in crimson, and this really, really doesn’t look good. 

Link needs Normal. Sparrow. Some sort of healer. Right fucking now. 

This is bad, this is so, so bad.

“Norm!” Taylor yells, really wishing that he had the Message spell or a goddamn cell phone right now. “We could really use some heals over here, man!”

No response, which is typical, seeing as how Normal and Scary appear to be entangled with fending off their own Doodlerized opponents, and the various father figures and Dood are similarly occupied. They’re also all on the far reaches of the mall parking lot, which is, you know, par for the course at this point.

Of course having a nice, regular time introducing Dood to the concept of the teenage mall hangout would go disastrously wrong. Because clearly it was getting too slice-of-life-y in here. 

Of-fucking-course. 

Link inhales sharply, and Taylor’s attention snaps back to him. Link’s trying to apply pressure to the wound, hands clasped over a spot on his side and desperately attempting to keep the blood inside his body where it belongs. Taylor feels a little nauseous when he realizes his friend’s long fingers are covered in the stuff, partially-coagulated bits of his own gore caking his fingernails, smeared across his knuckles, still leaking through his hands and adding to the dark pool beneath him. The air smells suffocatingly like warm metal. 

Taylor slings his go bag off his shoulder, tears through its contents until he finds a wad of medical gauze (not nearly heavy-duty enough to be effective against this, Taylor really should’ve stocked up on better supplies ages ago when they started this saving-the-world shit, but at least it’s better than nothing), and leans over his friend. “Hey,” he says, voice sharp and clipped in a way Taylor himself hardly recognizes, “let me.”

He pries one of Link’s hands away just enough to fit the whole roll of white fabric, places his hand on top of it, unfolds it a little bit to cover as much of the bullet wound as he can. He presses down hard (perhaps a bit too hard, if the way Link grunts is any indication).

“Sorry,” Taylor mutters, because he is, because it’s all he feels like he’s been saying lately. 

Sorry Willy fucked with your head, Scary. Sorry I didn’t protect you enough, Mom. 

Sorry you’re bleeding out and it’s all my fault because I haven’t been fast enough, smart enough, vigilant enough, anything enough.

“You can move your hands out of the way now, I’ve got it,” Taylor says, attempting to dull the spike-sharpened edge of his voice into something soft and steady with minimal success. 

One of Link’s sticky hands rests limply atop Taylor’s as the other falls to the side, and Taylor kind of wants to throw up.

The hand atop Taylor’s strokes gently across the back of his hand. It leaves a messy streak of red on his paler skin.

“Hey,” Link murmurs, “It’s gonna be okay, right? You’re gonna be okay.”

Taylor’s gaze lifts to Link’s face incredulously because in what world is this okay, and his friend’s eyes - he can’t tell if they’re misting with unshed tears or if they’re fogging over, but something is clouding those honey-syrup irises and neither of the options are good at all.

Taylor presses down a little harder, just to hear Link’s breath hitch again, just to watch the way his vision seems to clear for the briefest of moments.

“Link, stay with me, man,” he commands - though this voice feels too rough and wild and wobbly to carry any sort of authority. “Just stay with me, just hang on, just stay awake, please, I can’t -”

“I will,” Link replies, wheezing a little. “I’ll - ‘ll try my best. C-can I lay down, though?”

“Yeah, dude, of course,” Taylor murmurs, trying to gesture with his head rather than his hands before giving up and saying “Put your head on my lap, okay?”

Link complies, though not without a few awkward adjustments and grunts of pain, and Taylor tries to mentally steel himself for waiting until help arrives.

God. This was supposed to just be a chill day where they could all act their age for once, let their eyes adjust to the yellow-sun-daylight, not have to worry as much about the impending threat looming over their heads.

And now, his best friend is lying atop him, bleeding out, probably minutes away from dying, and Taylor can’t do anything about it. 

It’s not fair, he thinks. This isn’t even the final battle, not even a mini-boss! This is just some monster-of-the-week type of shit and now Link is dying and Taylor feels like something’s deeply broken in him, too, spilling out and slipping through every crack and crevice, gross and ugly and terrifying and they’re not even eighteen yet, not even adults, and Link is so kind and brave and loyal and strong and steady and protective and stupidly, stupidly self-sacrificial, and -

Link’s breathing is far too shallow for Taylor’s liking, or maybe that’s just the sound of his own lungs rapidly filling and deflating in his ears as he tries to think of anything to say to keep his friend awake. 

Taylor’s unmoored, unsteady, adrift without Link by his side, and god, why did he let himself get this attached if all people are ever going to do is leave him, and he doesn’t want Link to die, not when he’s made Taylor’s life better in every conceivable way, and -

Taylor jolts at the feeling of something grimy and sticky and slightly clammy against his cheek. 

He looks down, and Link’s clearly trying to maintain focus through the pain as he wipes some moisture off his face with his thumb.

“Hey,” Link says, soft concern made jagged by the blood attempting to seep through the gauze, between the gaps in Taylor’s fingers.

“Hey,” Taylor repeats back, helplessly, blinking away hot tears as fast as he can because blinking means not looking at Link and, god, he hadn’t even realized he was crying until now. It comes out with a wheeze, like the syllable was punched out of him, and then with a gasp, and then another, and then another, and Taylor can feel his chest constricting and fuck, how is he supposed to be any use to his friend when he can’t even breathe right?

“No, no, no, Tay, don’t - ah - cry for me,” Link says, unsteadily and ragged and so unlike the Link Taylor knows, except it’s exactly like the Link he knows, because providing reassurance is, for some goddamn reason, a priority for him even when he’s bleeding out onto the concrete and asphalt.

Taylor shudders at Link’s touch and his chest heaves as he tries to force air into his lungs, leaning into the hand that still lingers at his cheek and hoping that the wordless (undeserved) gratitude comes across.

Link is cupping the side of his face insistently, fingers brushing gently beneath his eye, up his cheekbone, tucking stringy hair behind the shell of his ear, almost as if he’s trying to memorize as much as he can by feel, immortalize his bone structure and acne scars in his mind before its gears stop turning completely. The thought rips a hole through Taylor’s chest, causes his eyes to well up with moisture and for frustrated, shame-hot rivers to wind down his cheeks.

“You’re… really adorable when you’re all -ah - pouty and frustrated, y’know,” Link says, a hazy, dreamlike quality entering his tone, and oh, no, Taylor does not like what that implies. “Not l-like this, though, I don’t like seeing you cry like this.”

“Well, don’t get yourself hurt like this, asshole!” Taylor snaps back, because really, the nerve of this guy to be dying on him and then complaining about seeing him sad.

“I had to,” Link says, gravely, simply. “I saw that guy take aim at you, and it - ah - was, it was you or me. Easy choice,” He finishes, and he has the absolute audacity to smile the slightest bit, lips turning up at the corners weakly.

“You’re a healer!” Taylor yells, face blotchy with tears and frustration. “You could’ve just healed me! I would’ve been fine!”

Taylor, not for the first time in this adventure, wishes desperately that whatever powers are at play would have granted him some magic that was actually useful, healing and wonderful and holy like Normal’s or Link’s or, hell, even powerful and dark like Scary’s, instead of just cheap party tricks that help him run away and hide.

It’s not fair that Taylor can’t give Link what the other boy has given him many times over. It’s not fair that the world feels like it’s standing still, timed to Link’s uneven breaths, and it’s something that he can’t outrun, can’t make disappear.

“Oh,” Link breathes, “Ha - ah - got me there.” 

Taylor presses his hands firmly against Link’s wound, because he has to be good for this one mundane thing, at the very least, has to be of some use, somehow, sets his jaw and grits his teeth against the shame burning white-hot with infernal hellfire behind his eyes.

“I,” Link croaks, “I didn’t really think about it, then, ah, I just. Moved.” There’s a sound that sounds like a frankly awful mix between a chuckle and a wince, and then he says “Guess you do crazy things when you’re in l-”

He trails off halfway through his sentence, eyes becoming blearily unfocused as he looks to the side.

“Link,” Taylor prompts, because whatever feverish statement Link had been about to make feels important, for some reason.

“Link,” Taylor says again, louder, and is met with no response.

“Hey, Link, Link, Lincoln, come on, this isn’t funny, listen to me, damnit!” Taylor can barely hear the sound of his own voice over the sound of blood rushing in his ears, because Link can’t be dead, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

He almost wants to shake him, but he can’t because that would mean taking pressure off the wound and that’s something that Taylor cannot risk when Link’s chest is (thankfully, blessedly) still rising and falling. But maybe not for much longer. 

“I can’t lose you,” Taylor sobs, already past hysterical and bordering on flat-out manic. “Lincoln, please.”

“I - uh,” Link says, kind of unintelligibly, but it’s Link and he’s lucid enough to try to speak and Taylor’s crying even harder out of relief.

“S-orry,” Link manages, turning to look at him, “ah - kinda got lost in thought there. Y’were saying?”

“Fuck you, man,” Taylor hisses, emphatically. “I thought you died!”

“Sorry, just - can I kiss you?” Link asks suddenly, eyes wide.

“What the f- now?” Taylor blurts in response, because truly, where the fuck was this coming from?

Link makes a little laughing sound that turns into a wheeze that’s punctuated by more warm blood spurting against the gauze Taylor is pressing to his friend’s side. 

“We’re married,” Link says as Taylor splutters, rapidly trying to get his mind to wrap around any of this. “It’s not that c-crazy, ah, of an ask.”

“It kind of is when you’re bleeding to death!” Taylor exclaims, his voice heightening to a near-hysterical pitch. 

“You don't - ah - have you if you don’t want to,” Link says in a tone that is probably supposed to be reassuring but absolutely nothing about this situation is remotely close. “I just thought it - it might help. Distract. From the - uh, pain? And I… I kinda miss it.”

Oh. It’d never occurred to Taylor that Link being previously married meant he’s technically kissed someone before. Kissed them often enough, enjoyed it often enough to long for it. 

His stomach twists oddly at the concept. 

Taylor’s never really… thought about what it would be like to kiss someone. Beyond the abstract, of course. He doesn’t even know if he’d like it. 

But, as far as first kisses go, sharing it with his best friend sounds… almost nice, if it weren’t for this entire ordeal. 

And if Link wants this - if it’ll help keep him here, keep him present, give him something to feel beyond the agony he’s surely suffering and keep his mind off the pain - well. Taylor would be a pretty shitty right hand man to deny him that.

“Okay,” Taylor says shakily. 

“Really?” He can’t tear his eyes away from Link’s face - partly because of the strange dichotomy of awe and agony that paint his features, and partly because he’s afraid of looking down and seeing nothing but red. 

“Yeah, if you think it’ll help,” Taylor hears himself respond. “If it’s what you need.”

“It is,” Link says simply. 

If Taylor doesn’t look down at the blood staining them both, he can almost imagine the adrenaline pulsing through his veins is for an entirely different reason. He can imagine Link is in his lap because he wants to be there, and that the hand still resting on his cheek is a sign of affection and not just his best friend desperately clinging to his warmth for comfort, and that the way his eyes are glossed over are from desire and not from excruciating pain. 

“Okay, I’ve, uh, never done this-“ Taylor starts to say, because of course stupid teenage nerves get the better of him when his closest friend is dying in his arms. 

“I’m sure you’ll - ah - you’ll be great,” Link says, features softening briefly before screwing up in pain. 

Okay. Taylor can do this. Link needs him. 

“Just, uh, tap out if you lose too much air, ‘kay? Don’t wanna fuck up your breathing.”

“Mm,” Link hums, straining a bit to lean up toward him. 

Taylor leans in the rest of the way. 

Kissing Link is… well, it isn’t great. The angle is awkward so that Taylor can keep attempting to staunch the bleeding, and his lips are chapped and probably bitten raw from anxious habit, and Taylor can’t really do anything about either of those things. The kiss tastes salty with their sweat and Taylor’s tears and gritty with the grime from the ongoing combat, and Taylor can’t bring himself to close his eyes for fear of Link slipping away.

But he can feel the way Link’s smiling slightly against his mouth, so Taylor guesses he’s doing something right.

The hand that had previously rested on Taylor’s cheek comes around to cradle the nape of his neck, fingers gently tangling in battle-mussed black hair. The action has Taylor making a frankly embarrassing noise high in the back of his throat, and Link’s smile grows as he pulls him in impossibly closer. Taylor is pliant and trusting in his friend’s trembling grasp, letting Link guide them both because the boy beneath him clearly has more experience and Taylor frankly has no idea what he’s doing.

Taylor longs to reciprocate in every way he can, to rest a supporting hand between Link’s shoulder blades, to weave another in Link’s soft-looking curls, to make this kiss better for Link, because Link is good in a way that Taylor can never hope to be and he deserves all the love and affection and passion in the world. 

As it is, though, Taylor has to be content with pressing his palms against blood-soaked gauze and hoping he can make this up to him if they get out of this mess.

He funnels every emotion he can into all of the points where their bodies connect, a swirling concoction of terror and adoration and desperation and loyalty and affection. And there’s more than a little confusion that seeps through, because Taylor hadn’t thought about kissing Link before, but at the present moment, with Link’s full lips moving tenderly against his, it’s suddenly all Taylor can think about. And maybe he’d like to do this again, under better circumstances, to pull Link in close and give back the attention and care and devotion he’s always given him. If Link wanted to, of course. And suddenly, Taylor finds himself hoping that Link would want to, because Link is lovely and protective and kind and awkward and endearing and so, so beautiful, and -

Oh. 

Taylor’s always felt strongly for his best friend, but now, on the cracked curb of a mall parking lot with the sounds of battle fading to a dull roar around them - now, with Link’s blood on his hands and Link’s fingers in his hair and Link’s mouth against his own - Taylor thinks that maybe those feelings run far deeper than he previously thought. 

There’s nothing Taylor can do about the thoughts raging like wildfires in his brain. He can’t run or hide from them if he tried - he can only hold this boy’s life in his hands and stay with him, hoping that he has the strength to do the same. Taylor tries his damndest to speak without words, every insistent press of lips a chorus of stay, I’m not leaving, don’t go where I can’t follow, I need you here, I want you here, stay awake, stay with me, don’t leave, I’m here, stay, stay, stay.

And maybe it’s selfish of Taylor, but it’s true. If he has one more thing ripped out from underneath him, he thinks it might break him. 

Link pulls away, and Taylor lets him. His best friend’s breaths flutter against his skin in uneven pants, and Taylor’s heart beats frantically as he searches his face for any discomfort.

Taylor watches as Link’s eyes open, a soft smile pulling at his lips, and Taylor breathes out a sigh of relief. Link’s hands have migrated to latch around the back of Taylor’s neck and he leans into him, seeking out the comfort of Taylor’s warmth. 

(Taylor’s muscles strain in protest and the near-constant ache in his body intensifies, but he doesn’t mind. Not when it might be the last chance he ever has for Link to lean against him like this.)

“Thanks,” Link says, and his voice is raspy and so, so small, and god, Taylor just wants to hold him close forever, to shield and guard him like Link has always done for him, to ensure nothing like this ever happens again.

Link’s eyes haven’t left his since the moment they broke apart, and while the fogginess in them is a bit worrisome, his dopey little smile is enough to soothe the worst of Taylor’s anxieties.

“I’ve - mm - I’ve wanted to do that. For a while. A long time,” Link murmurs haltingly, still looking at Taylor as if transfixed, as if Taylor’s the only thing that matters, and Taylor feels unanchored from reality.

Who gave his friend the right to look at him like he’s his personal salvation? Who gave him the absolute nerve to only bring this up as he’s actively dying? Was Link just going to hold this inside himself forever, and would Taylor never have known otherwise?

A spark of indignation alights in the hellfire of Taylor’s chest, and he looks down at his friend, watches as Link’s lazy smile fades.

Good.

“What the fuck?” Taylor exclaims, seething more than a little. 

Link hisses a little, flinching, and Taylor quickly attempts to cool the demonic heat seeping through his skin.

“Why didn’t you ask before?” He says, trying to take a bit of the edge off his voice. 

Link looks like he wants to say something, but he moves a little too much and the gauze at Link’s side blooms with even more red, so all that comes out is a small, pained noise.

“You know what?” Taylor says firmly. “It doesn’t matter, because you are so, so stupid.”

Link wheezes in protest, and Taylor shakes his head, furrowing his brows - let me finish.

“When -” Taylor starts, “not if, when - we get out of this, I’m going to kiss the shit out of you for as long as you want. I’m gonna make you forget your own goddamn name if that’s what you want. Got that?”

Link’s eyes are a little less clouded now, and he smiles so wide that his dimples show.

(Taylor decides that he’s going to kiss those later.)

“Mmmm. I’d like that,” Link says, voice soft and fond, and Taylor isn’t sure whether he wants to laugh or cry. 

Taylor’s body can’t seem to make up its mind either. Some strangled sort of sound rips itself out of his throat, scratching long claws into his windpipe on the way up, and he blinks away hot tears as fast as he can because even a moment with his vision obscured could be the moment Link falls unconscious and Taylor can’t have that happen. His breaths are loud and fast and there’s static and ringing in his ears and Link looks pained but ultimately concerned for him which is stupid, so, so stupid because Taylor is fine, he’s not the one with a bullet wound gushing blood, he’s fine, he’s fine, he’s fine.

“Hey,” A voice calls from above him, firm yet calm, between gasping breaths like its owner just ran from somewhere, and Taylor nearly leaps out of his skin, cursing himself for not being on guard enough to notice someone was coming, and -

Taylor looks up from Link for just enough to catch a glimpse of hazel eyes framed by heavy dark circles and smudged glasses, then snaps his gaze back down, shaking with some bizarre concoction of relief and adrenaline as he processes things.

They aren’t being attacked, it’s just Normal’s dad (Uncle? No, dad, he’s wearing glasses), Normal’s dad is a Druid, he can heal, someone heard Taylor when he called for help, Link’s going to be okay.

“Mister Oak-Swa- Swoa-” Taylor starts, but he can’t seem to get the words out with how much he’s shaking, mind and heart and mouth stuttering as he tries to get a fucking grip. “He’s hurt,” he finishes pathetically. 

“I can see that,” Normal’s dad says, enunciating each word clearly, barely loud enough to be audible over the din of staticky noise that Taylor’s mind has become. 

Taylor’s hands press a bit harder against Link’s side, and his friend makes a broken sound that might be a wheeze. 

Taylor looks down at his hands, and god, they’re absolutely coated in gore, a red-brown smudge atop his knuckles from where Link had swiped his thumb across them, and the gauze is a horrible shade of maroon, and it’s damp and sticky with blood and it needs to be changed out but it’s all Taylor has, and the world starts to blur at the edges of his vision and it feels like he’s been running for ages with how his chest is heaving even though his legs ache from sitting in this position for so long, and it hurts to look at Link like this, and something twists in Taylor’s gut and everything feels too constricting and there’s so much blood and he can’t breathe and he’s useless and he’s terrified -

“Hey, Taylor,” Normal’s dad says slowly, gently. “Kid, can you look at me?”

Taylor hears the words and he knows what they mean but he just can’t bring himself to tear his eyes away because his best friend’s life is draining out between the cracks in his trembling fingers and Taylor has to keep watching, he has to, because he can barely feel his hands anymore and maybe if he doesn’t look they’ll fall to his sides and Link will die and it will be all Taylor’s fault, and-

“Taylor,” Normal’s dad says, louder, authoritative, and there’s a hand (dry, not sticky with blood) grasping his shoulder and the weight of it wrenches his gaze upward.

“Agh - sorry,” Taylor says, “Sorry, sorry, sorry-”

“No apologies,” Normal’s dad says, searching Taylor’s face for something, his expression softening, and something about the downturn of his mouth and the gleam of his eyes seems deeply sad and tired in a way Taylor can’t possibly hope to examine, not when the blood coating his hands and the tang of warm metal in the air makes him want to be sick.

“Listen,” Normal’s dad says, jaw setting and eyes going flinty again. “Nod when you’re listening.”

Taylor inclines his head shakily, everything too garbled within him to form any sensical words.

“You did a good thing, okay? You did so well. You used all the resources you had at your disposal. You kept Lincoln stable until I could make it here. It’s going to be okay now, and that’s because of you.”

“Y’did good, Tay,” Link mumbles beneath him. Taylor glances down and Link’s smiling weakly up at him, rubbing gently at the base of Taylor’s neck. “‘Ll’be alright.”

“Yes, you will,” Normal’s dad says affirmatively, and Taylor clings to it like a buoy in a vast, tumultuous ocean. 

“Link,” the man says, “Normal’s healed you before, right?”

“Mhm,” Link says, eyes glassy and wide.

“Good. It’s gonna feel a little weird, probably, but you’ll be back on your feet as soon as it’s over. I’m going to touch your shoulder to heal you. Is that okay?”

Link nods, then winces a little.

“Taylor,” Normal’s dad says, “I want the wound to heal properly, so I need you to move your hands.”

“But-” Taylor starts to protest, and his stomach twists violently at the thought.

“I know,” he says, and he has that mournful look in his eyes again. “It’s scary, but I need you to trust me. Okay?”

“S’okay, Tay,” Link mutters. “You can hold my hands, if you want.”

Taylor would rather not tear his hands away from the bloody gauze and open the wound even further, but at the very least he needs to hold onto something. 

“Okay,” Taylor hears himself say. Then, “Now?”

“Now,” Normal’s dad agrees, and there’s a horrible ripping sound as Taylor brings his hands away from Link’s side, the gauze glued to them with congealed blood. 

Link winces, lifting his hands, palm-up, for Taylor to grab. Taylor takes them and squeezes tight, tries to force himself not to think too hard about Link’s shaking breaths or about how cold Link’s hands are even through the dirty gauze. Link screws his eyes shut as their friend’s father rests a grounding hand on his shoulder and inhales deeply, closing his own eyes in concentration.

When his eyes open, they glow a sickly green, iris and pupil and sclera overtaken by the color of luna moth wings. Mesmerizing luminescent magic siphons from beneath freckled skin, cloudy and moonlit as it writhes from the veins on the insides of his wrists, twisting and like the branches of a newly-grown vine, before meeting Link’s skin, seeping into it with a weak sage-silver glow. The open bullet wound at Link’s side becomes overgrown with green magic. Its faint shine spreads like moss over its surface, suturing it closed before fading away, leaving nothing but a slightly paler slash of Link’s skin in its wake.

“How do you feel?” Normal’s dad asks after blinking away the last motes of glowing green.

“Better,” Link says, letting go of one of Taylor’s hands to ghost curious fingers along his new scar. His eyes are bright and lively and not misted over in pain at all. “Feels a little weird to be on the other side of a Cure Wounds, I’ll be honest.”

Normal’s dad grimaces a little in understanding.

“Definitely beats actively dying, though! Thank you, Mister Oak-Swallows-Garcia.”

“Just Sparrow is fine, Boss.”

Taylor barely registers any of this, however, because his eyes are drawn to Link’s scar. It’s barely a pockmark, only a few shades lighter than his deep brown skin, and Link flinches a little against him when Taylor’s free hand brushes against it. It’s such a small mark, but it’s the difference between Link sitting against him, slouched over and tired but wonderfully, beautifully alive, and Link laying in his arms, limp and cold and dead.

Link carefully peels away the gauze still stuck to Taylor’s palm and slots their hands together. Slowly, he interlocks their fingers, runs his thumb along the side of his hand, and Taylor nearly cries at the gesture. 

(Link’s hands are still cold, but that’s normal, Taylor has to remind himself. Link’s always had cold hands, and their hands are clammy and sticky still but it’s okay because Link is squeezing his hand, a silent reminder of I’m here, it’s okay, you can relax, and god, Taylor would be lost without him.)

There’s a shriek of loud static that Taylor is pretty sure isn’t just in his head, and Sparrow sighs.

“Sounds like Dood just spontaneously combusted someone again,” Link observes.

“Yeah,” he agrees, getting up from his crouch and adjusting his glasses. “I’m going to get back out there, see if we can finish this off without any other injuries happening.”

“We’ll come with you,” Link says. Taylor nods, attempting to reassemble his brain into something that can withstand the chaos of the parking lot-turned-battlefield, wanting to get his limbs under him correctly and wincing at the ache, and where the fuck did he leave his cane-

“No, you won’t. You two are out of combat for the rest of the fight. Doctor’s orders.”

“You’re an ice cream shop employee,” Taylor mutters. His voice sounds… off, shaky. Is Taylor shaking?

“Field medic’s, then,” he corrects amiably. “You need to focus on recovering.”

“But I’m-”

Sparrow cuts Link off with a pointed look, allowing his eyes to slide over to Taylor before looking at Link again, and there’s something significant about it but Taylor’s brain feels too scrambled to parse any meaning from it.

“Oh,” Link says softly.

“Take care of each other,” Sparrow says, and something about it feels final. “I’ve gotta go make sure your other friends are holding up okay.” 

Taylor watches as Sparrow leaves only in the most distant sense, focusing on clenching his hands against Link’s and feeling the sensation of his friend squeezing back.

“Taylor,” Link starts, and his gaze darts up from their clasped hands (still bloodstained, bits starting to flake off in pieces like peeled paint or grotesque confetti, warm against cold, alive alive, alive) to look at him. He looks so concerned - over him, again, Taylor realizes. “I’m alive. It’s okay. You saved me.”

He punctuates this with a light squeeze to both of Taylor’s hands, and combined with the warmth of his gaze (his eyes had been so horribly cloudy before, and Taylor had almost lost him) and his steady voice (he had been slurring his words, choking on them, near-delirious, and Taylor had almost lost him) and the slight, hopeful upturn of his lips (near-identical to the small, weak smile he wore as Taylor kissed him, and he almost lost him) something in Taylor shatters.

“C’mere,” Link says, sitting up a bit straighter and opening his arms, and Taylor all but launches himself into them, hands scrabbling to find purchase on Link’s shoulders, fisting in the grimy fabric of his athletic shirt as he presses his face into his friend’s chest.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, it’s okay, you can let it out,” Link soothes, rubbing circles into the back of Taylor’s shirt with his thumbs, and it only makes Taylor cry harder.

You nearly died, Taylor thinks frantically, breaths coming as rapid as the frenzy of his thoughts. You nearly died and I couldn’t do anything about it and I was so useless and pathetic and terrified of losing you and -

“Oh, Taylor,” Link says in between Taylor’s sobs. “Tay, honey, you gotta breathe, okay? Breathe with me, just listen and try to copy me, alright?”

Taylor tries to nod, but with the strength of the tremors that are running through him, it probably doesn’t come across. 

Link’s hand comes up to cup the back of Taylor’s head, guiding him to rest with an ear to his chest. Link’s lungs steadily expand and deflate, a consistent rising-falling pattern, and just below Taylor’s ear, his heartbeat pulses, strong and confident.

Taylor thinks about the way Link had barely been able to breathe properly through the pain and his vision blurs with tears again, the periphery growing dark, and Taylor’s breaths feel like they’re being punched out of him, leaving him floundering and weak and aching and miserable.

“Link,” Taylor gasps, wave after wave of sobs wracking his body.

His best friend holds him through it all, offering reassurances in between measured, exaggerated breaths.

“I’m okay,” he says. Breathe in. “We’re okay.” Breathe out. “You’re not gonna lose me.” In. “I’m not going anywhere.” Out. “You were so brave, I’m here, we’re gonna be okay.” In, out, in, out.

Fingers card gently through his hair as Link presses a gentle kiss to the top of Taylor’s head, and Taylor lets himself fall apart.

-

Taylor can’t tell how long he sits there in the circle of Link’s arms, listening to his heartbeat and feeling the way he breathes. He’s lost time before, but it scares him to think how much he might have missed, especially since they’re still technically on the fringes of an active battleground.

Eventually, though, his breaths even out and the last of his tears dry up, leaving his face a puffy, snotty, splotchy mess.

They sit quietly for a few moments, Link still combing gentle fingers through greasy hair with one hand and tracing meaningless shapes into the center of his back with the other, humming soothingly every now and then. 

Taylor pulls away first, wiping below his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“Got it all out?” Link asks, and Taylor finds no trace of pity in his voice or expression, only gentleness and concern, and it makes him want to cry again but from the dryness of his eyes Taylor knows there aren’t any tears left.

“Yeah,” Taylor sniffles pathetically, opting to hide his face in Link’s shoulder.

Before he can, though, Link carefully takes Taylor’s face in his hands, thumbing away mostly-dry tears. He leans in, brows drawn together as if he’s concentrating on something, and presses a soft kiss to the top of his nose bridge, just between his eyes. Gold and saffron bloom behind Taylor’s closed eyelids, and the stuffiness and congestion fades away a little.

“Better?” Link asks.

“If you almost die like that again, I’m revoking your kiss privileges,” He huffs in lieu of a response. 

“Kiss privileges?” Link echoes, raising an eyebrow.

“Typical,” Taylor gripes with no real heat. “You really had the audacity to make me realize I want you as you’re fucking dying, and you aren’t even taking my threat seriously.”

Link’s eyes go comically wide. “You want me?”

Oh. “I said that out loud, didn’t I,” Taylor says.

“Yeah, you, uh, did,” Link replies. “I thought I had made that up. Like a fever dream, or something. Um, wow. Are… do you really..?” 

Link looks so incredibly flustered, and it’s unbearably cute.

Fuck it, Taylor thinks, and he leans further into Link, bringing a hand to rest on his shoulder as he presses a chaste kiss to his friend’s lips. 

Taylor backs away, sitting in Link’s lap as he looks up at him through his lashes. “Does that answer your question?”

“Uh, not really?” Link responds, earnest and awkward and sweet. And then a shy smile pulls at his lips. “Maybe,” he says quietly, “if you try that again, I might get it.”

Holy fuck, Taylor thinks, eyes drawn from the quirk of Link’s brows to the smirking curve of his mouth.

“Okay,” Taylor says, splaying a hand between Link’s shoulder blades the way he had wanted to earlier, running another hand through Link’s hair and dragging him down to seal their lips together again. 

It feels much better to kiss his friend this way, finally able to hold him and treat him with the affection he deserves and be held in return. It’s unhurried, burnt-out adrenaline leaving him pliant and tired, and the sheer relief of it all has Taylor breaking the kiss to laugh hysterically, breathlessly against his lips. Of course it would take something this stupidly, horribly dramatic to get Taylor to realize what he almost lost.

Link softly laughs in response, and he rests their foreheads together as they attempt to control their giggling.

Taylor opens his eyes to see Link grinning with all his teeth, sunny and bright, his cheeks dimpling from the force of it, and Taylor ducks into his space quickly to place a tiny, fluttering kiss in each divot . Something warm and possessive makes its home in his chest, curling between his ribs, brighter than the solstice-hot flames of hell.

Mine, Taylor thinks, the word doing little to encapsulate everything he feels about the boy in front of him. I’m never letting anything take you away from me ever again.

He pulls away, and Link is looking at him like he’s personally placed the sun in the sky (well, they both helped with that, technically), like he’s someone worthy of being adored, and Taylor feels like he could collapse under the weight of his gaze.

He settles for falling wordlessly into Link’s arms again, and the breath is briefly knocked out of Link’s chest, but his arms come to circle around him, safe and protective and secure and wonderful. Taylor listens to the thrum of his best friend’s pulse with an ear to the side of his neck as Link rests his cheek atop his head, murmuring reassurances and praise in equal measure.

Taylor just barely hears footsteps approaching their spot on the curb of the sidewalk - he probably wouldn’t have noticed it at all, wrung-out as he is, if not for the way Link tenses around him, holding him a little closer as his head lifts from atop his own.

“H-hey, um,” Scary calls - and Taylor knows it’s Scary, recognizes the timbre of her voice, but the pitch of sounds more uncertain than Taylor’s ever known - almost like she’s afraid to speak.

“It’s just us, Normal and Scary,” Norm’s reedy voice adds with that same unsure edge. “The fight’s over, you’re okay, man.”

Link relaxes a bit around Taylor in relief, and Taylor glances up to see him blinking sheepishly at their friends.

“No casualties?” Link asks. Taylor just hums, sinking further into his arms, too exhausted from the whirlwind of adrenaline and emotions to do anything other than listen.

“Not on our side,” Scary confirms. “Dood exploded some guys, though.”

“I exploded some guys!” Dood chirps happily.

“Are you guys sure you’re okay?” Normal prods, voice tinged with worry. “My dad told us what happened. I’m glad he could make it in time, but I think I have a little more juice left if something needs healing.”

“I’m good. Uh, physically, at least,” Link says. “Tay?” he prompts, giving Taylor a nudge.

“M’fine,” he responds without lifting his head from Link’s shoulder, voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. “Achy. Sleepy. M’fine.”

“Okay,” Norm says, and Taylor can hear the uncertain frown in his voice.

“We should get out of here before what’s left of the police finds us,” Scary says. “Ugh, this fucking sucks. This mall had a Hot Topic.” The I’m never coming here again goes unsaid, but Taylor, as tired as he is, finds himself nodding with the sentiment.

“I agree,” Link says, shifting a little around Taylor, and Taylor clings to him tighter, refusing to let go. “Hey, hey, I’m staying with you,” Link mutters to him. 

The others blessedly don’t react when Link kisses the top of his head - or if they do, they don’t say anything.

“Did anyone find Taylor’s cane anywhere, or?” Link asks, then sighs at the silent answer.

“Okay, we’ll find that later,” he says, then, to Taylor, “I’m gonna pick you up now, okay?”

Taylor nods, arranging his arms sluggishly to lock around Link’s neck and his his legs shakily straddle Link’s stomach.

“Okay, up we go,” Link mutters, and gets to his feet a little unsteady, helped up by someone (Norm, Taylor guesses) while his other arm supports Taylor’s legs.

“Thanks,” Taylor mumbles.

“Thank you,” Link responds, though to Normal or to Taylor, he isn’t sure. Probably to both of them. “That really took a lot out of you, huh?” he asks quietly.

Taylor hums an affirmative.

“Well, it’s okay now. You got me, and I’m not going anywhere, ‘kay?”

Another hum. “Mmkay.”

“It’s okay if you wanna fall asleep on me,” Link says, ever the angel, back from the dead and whole and strong and lovely, and Taylor nods against his shoulder, puffy eyelids already closed, sniffling once. “You can rest now, I’ll watch over you.”

Taylor doesn’t want to sleep, not really, not when he just got Link back and could just as easily lose him again, but the soothing vibrations of his voice from where Taylor’s head rests against his neck and the secure arms around him and the steady cadence of his strides ease enough of his anxieties that he feels himself starting to slip into unconsciousness regardless.

After he wakes and they’re all safe, Taylor will ask Sparrow or maybe Normal about learning Cure Wounds (it’s a spell that Rangers can cast, after all), and Taylor and Link will have a long talk about what all of this means for them, and Taylor will finally make good on his promise of kissing Link until he can’t remember anything else.

For now, though, Taylor smiles weakly as Link ducks to press another kiss into his hair and drops into slumber in his friend’s protective hold.