#and taylor’s story has never quite made sense

[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 Molly 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.

[scoops404]

How do you come up with your fic titles? And what were some of the hardest ones to pick:]

This is such a good and hard question. I've been thinking about it for hours.

Hoo boy i had some things to say I guess

Ones I regret:

I've never fallen from quite this high, florida man dub, i was your willing accomplice honey, when the frost is gone there you'll find mulberries.

My favorite title is probably Hits Different. it's just so perfect for that fic where they, you know, hit each other, but also their relationship hits different AND that was the song i was obsessed with when writing it. Too perfect.

I hate coming up with titles but i recognize the title is very important to the fic. I use a lot of Taylor Swift songs (all of my hot girl summer bingo fics were named after TTPD songs) and John Dunne poems. Two fools is from a a john dunne poem: "I am two fools, I know, / For loving, and for saying so" (shine here to us is also from a john dunne poem called The Sun Rising, which i also used for a teen wolf fic "All honour's mimic, all wealth alchemy")

Otherwise, I name fics based on what they're about and/or a pun. Circling Back (fun fact my boss said this very same thing the other day and it made me internally laugh)

Wait, here's a funny screenshot of Chelsey helping come up with that title

Let me familiaize you (which is about George accidentally making Patches his familiar but also means, like, let me catch you up on the tea but in corporate speak).

I also have two PWPs with biblical names or allusions - A pillar of salt in front of sodom, which of course references Lot's wife turning back as the arch angels were destroying the city for the sin there. The other one is Like Moses at the Burning Bush which is an awesome title and references the moment when god calls to moses to go back and save his people--a real call to action, so to speak. but this was a more direct in-joke between me and some friends from a discord server, which i won't explain because it will make no sense to anyone else. I have often felt that I need this to be a triology and thus need a new pwp nasty boy to complete it. (can i use you up could have gone here but i was sticking to the TTPD names then)

Here is a screenshot of me bothering dizzy to help name this fic (and I can share it now because the thing it references has already come to pass)

Can you imagine crying in the club about a fic called "Bloomer Sooner"???? lmao

bless dizzy's heart for being like "your titles are usually better than that"

For Merry men making merry - I wanted a title that referenced this was a Robinhood AU. Here's me bothering Taizi about if I should change it or not

And then we can't not talk about the one time I have changed a fic's title after it was posted, but before it finished uploading:

the Sapnap mpreg abortion fic (my beloved). It was originally called... okay i actually don't remember but my author's note says it was from "fresh out the slammer" which is not my favorite song on TTPD. But yall.... the fic title of this fic is so perfect that I'm mad at myself for not thinking of it originally-- I'm having his baby (no i'm not) like come on that's a perfect title

I like my long fics to have only one or two words in the title (learned that less from i've never fallen from quite this high--but i named that one before i had fandom friends to bother for their opinions. in fact, that was the fic that made me my fandom friends yay)

Hits different, just one touch, shine here to us, deep in dream, Anagnorisis

Oh! Deep in the dream of a game--i knew I wanted the title of that one to reference the end poem (because the end poem is sprinkled into every chapter of that story if you squint) and someone who is no longer in the fandom came up with that line of the poem and I agreed it was perfect. Shortening it to deep in dream also just makes me laugh.

Anagnorisis is an experimental phase of naming something pretentious and it didn't super work out. People are confused on the name, understandably so. The word itself is a dramatic term meaning "the point in a play, novel, etc., in which a principal character recognizes or discovers another character's true identity or the true nature of their own circumstances." Which was my funny way of showing you guys that there were two side of the story and kinda foreshadowed george's realization that dream is coming at things from an entirely different perspective and that it would be revealed to him in time

See the Elephant is also a really good title, i think, because it's literally about an elephant soul mark, but also, this fic came out right after the grituation. See the elephant as a phrase means "Experience more than one wants to, learn a hard lesson; also, see combat, especially for the first time" which kinda felt applicable for us all coming out of the trenches for George.

Theres hope out the window is from a twenty one pilots song literally about guns and gun violence, which is also what that fic is about (underrated fic imo)

Continuously Unraveling New Thoughts: CUNT hehehehe. This one i just wanted to see if anyone would make the acronym and not realize. like "CUNT!Dream is so patient!"

Shameless.

And here is Extra coming through with the blueprint

For vis-a-vis, my beloved microfic, here's my call to the people on what I should name this thing. I usually don't listen anyway, but Flower had such a good suggestion that my jaw dropped

The Curse and Cure of the Internet -> very hard fic to name. I had written that line in the fic itself and it just kinda jumped out at me as the title. And it worked. I really think it works well as a title and inherently makes sense to that fic in particular.

Presently in London - just kinda funny because it was written for Dream's birthday, so present, but also he went to visit London so he was presently in london. A pun. I do love those.

Anyway this has gotten long enough. Titles are so fun. The fic really starts to feel real when i have a title and can start referring to it that way!

[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.

[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.

[dearreader]

hello! welcome back to my FMA Characters as Taylor Swift albums!!! previous albums are here:

debut, fearless (taylor’s version), speak now (taylor’s version)

now, lets talk about the album that spinning 'round in our head’s burning:

RED (Taylor’s Version)

Trisha Elric

- THE album of all time

- red was my first era, my first concert, my first foray into the swiftie community (which is still up for debate on if that was good for me or not) but it's still one of my favorite albums and will forever hold a special place in my heart.

- i loved this album before atw10 dropped and am 100% positive this album has affected my writing to be so overtly melodramatic because i know listening to the line

"and all we are is skin and bone/trained to get along/ forever going with the flow/but your friction" at the age of 12 fucked me up (affectionate)

- the way this album connects you're first real heartbreak to a season and describes the absolute devastation that comes with not only losing it but losing yourself is still one of the best pieces of art to ever be made

- she was ROBBED of her album of the year grammy

- but trisha fits this idea and motif to me. from everything we see about her she is the greatest person ever, like embodiment of light type of person, though she is lost to the world in her death and because of that she haunts the narrative and the actions of several characters, setting ed and al on their journey through trying to bring her back in grief and only amplifying hohenheims guilt over leaving his family to defeat father

- this one is less about what the album means to the character but what the character does for the narrative and how that relates to them.

- trisha isn't meant to be a deep character, she is mainly there to serve as a plot device to get ed and al on their journeys (similarly to hughes' death for roy). without her death ed and al wouldn't have attempted human transmutation and roy would've never gone to recruit them. and izumi wouldn't have taken either of as students.

- she is meant to haunt the readers thoughts though

- to think about her ghost and how her love still impacts the characters story

- she is the red album in that she is something that hangs around you. something that you can't quite shake off (🥁)

- to quote other taylor albums, she's a wine stained dress you can't wear anymore. her memories follow you around. she comes back into your mind in burning red. you see something that reminds you of her and you think of her. she is grief as it's merely an expression of love after death.

- she is meant to be dead and gone but even so people can't let go of her. they can't stop thinking of her or doing reckless things to try and get her back.

- shes like the colors in autumn, so bright, just before they lose it all

- …

- trisha was also diagnosed as red album because i view the evermore album as the red album grown up (and i view folklore as speak now all grown up. no i will not elaborate you either get it or you don't) as that's another album that discuses heartbreak and hoping that a person you'll love will return even though the universe is telling you it won't be that way but in a more mature, having seen more of the world than RED. (i will also elaborate more on this later and you'll probably get what i mean here)

- but anyway, hope this made sense cause i feel like i went to deep into pretension english major territory

- apologies if did.

[hijinks-n-lowjinks]

Hi what about 1 and 12 for the fic ask?

Hi winnie!!! Thank you for the ask 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

1. Which three fics occupy your top posts? Tell me a bit about the inspiration behind them!

I’m going to assume this means my most popular posts, so I’m going to go by hits

#3 - It Had To Be You: this is the first fic I ever posted so I’m not surprised it has some of the highest ratings on my profile. Sakuatsu was HUGE back when I wrote this and I think people were ready to consume any media about them at the time because this is not my finest work lol. The inspiration came from watching When Harry Met Sally (my fav romcom of all time, I rewatch it like 10 times a year) and I realized that the personalities of the main pairing fell in line well with sakuatsu.

#2 - you’ll always know me: my baby. My piece de resistance. I’m not surprised it didn’t blow up the way aibtntfi has as hq has a shit ton of extremely good fics so you’re never really lacking for good content, but I’m very pleased this is my second most read! The basic inspiration for this was that I was listening to Taylor Swift’s evermore album (tis the damn season/dorothea in particular) and those two songs reminded me a lot of iwaoi in the time skip. A childhood friends to enemies to friends to lovers was perfectly in the cards for it and I think I planned out the entire fic in like three days.

#1 - and i’ve been tryin’ not to feel it: no one is shocked except for me lol. I never expected for this fic to do as well as it has but now this fic is basically the reason I have a following at all! The inspiration behind this was seeing a lot of jjk tiktokers doing ooc skits and it made me so irritated that I had to write a Megumi and itafushi that I felt was in character for a modern au. It was originally supposed to be a short oneshot but here we are 12 chapters later lol

12. Pick three fics that feature the same trope. What do you like the most about writing that trope and/or how did you do that trope differently in each story?

Friends 👏🏻 to 👏🏻 lovers 👏🏻 slow 👏🏻 burn 👏🏻 Slow burns are my favorite romance trope. I’m aspec so it’s RARE that I’m ever convinced by an insta-love story and I think slow burns where the couple truly gets to know and understand each other are the most romantic sort. Honestly, the only fics of mine that really feature this and can be considered a slow burn are my only three multi-chapter fics lol

• you’ll always know me: This one was the most fun to write, hands down. The angst, the yearning, the passion, this fic had everything that I love I truly wrote it for myself. I think it has the most believable romance out of all of my fics and my use of memories/flashbacks at the beginning or end of each chapter really made the story and relationship feel so much deeper. I can’t rave enough about how much I love it.

• and i’ve been tryin’ not to feel it: This fic is a slow burn in the sense that they like each other the entire time but are both idiots. I did include instant attraction in this one, but it’s not insta-love. Megumi is immediately intrigued and attracted to Yuuji but he refuses to let himself get drawn in by him (he folds almost immediately). Their relationship has been very fun to write and seeing them grow together and slowly understand themselves and each other has been wonderful to write out.

• It Had To Be You: this one isn’t unique at all in the sense that I didn’t realize I didn’t have to copy When Harry Met Sally plot point by plot point. I waited way too late to start changing things up and adding my own personal flair to the storyline, but it’s still a fun time. This fic has the most standard annoyances to friends to lovers plot but I still think it’s quite believable.

[3pirouette]

Fic: Your Eyes Look Like Coming Home (1/1)

Title: Your Eyes Look Like Coming Home

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Spoilers: Set during CA: TFA

Rating: Teen and Up (mild references to sexual activity)

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Word Count: 2914

Distribution: AO3  Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: for @behindthelabels for Steggymas! Steve can’t get her eyes right… or the story of how he managed to have a picture of Peggy in his compass. 

AN: So, I started writing a COMPLETELY different story for @behindthelabels, only to find out that I was basing it on something she hadn’t seen. So, I scrubbed it for the time being (though it’s likely to be posted soon, and dedicated to her as a “gift I know you won’t like but sorry, there’s no receipt so you can’t take it back”) and in the meantime, I cooked up this based on an ask she answered. I hope she enjoys it! Thanks @steggyfanevents for another great year!

Title taken from Everything Has Changed by Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran

~*~

He couldn’t get the eyes right. 

It didn’t matter how many times he tried to draw her, he couldn’t get the eyes right. 

Not that he could actually see what he was doing in the dark tent in the middle of the night as sleep evaded him. Drawing her was at least something he could do, an activity to fill the time and his idle hands as he waited for his next assignment. 

The curve of her cheek he managed after a few tries. Her nose took two or three attempts to get the line down. After about two months of sketching at every opportunity he had a passable likeness that he felt confident in. Her lips…

Her lips he got right on the first try. He couldn't imagine not knowing what they looked like, their bright red velvet likeness burned into his memory forever. 

But her eyes, Peggy’s eyes, evaded him. 

He couldn’t quite nail down the sparkle in them, never managed to figure out how to make them stoic yet mischievous at the same time. He could, and frequently did, get lost in those eyes whenever she was around. He would try to memorize the curve of her eyelid and the length of her lashes, made guesses about how many millimeters wide her pupils were and tried to get the shade as close as he could with his nubbin of a pencil, but still. 

Still. 

He couldn’t get the eyes right. 

It didn’t make sense to him that he had a notebook full of images of her and not a single one seemed real, not a single one seemed to capture who she was and the power that radiated from her. It didn’t make sense when he could see her in his dreams every night, as crisp and real as if she were standing before him, a smile on her bright lips and a twinkle in her eyes, but her eyes still evaded him in sketches.

His drawings were all he had out on the lines. It was the one thing he kept with him: his little notebook and the last inch of a pencil went in his pack wherever he went. He made himself notes about missions and plans he should write, but the majority of the pages were filled with drawings. Sometimes it was the monsters of battles on them, being purged from his psyche the only way he could: through the pencil. 

But usually, mostly, it was Peggy. 

He didn’t have any right to miss her, not really. They were both too important, too integral to the war to have time alone or time away from battle. She was busy saving the world through undercover missions and breaking codes in back rooms while he led the charge out in the open. 

There would be time for them when this was all over. 

Or so they told themselves. 

Stolen moments were all they had, little minutes and hours here and there when they happened to both be in the same place at the same time. They didn’t make promises about tomorrow: there were no promises to make in war. They only mused about when they’d next cross paths or how long their next assignment was scheduled to be. 

And those muses were short, clipped words between stolen caresses in closets or as they were making out between mission briefings in abandoned offices. 

Steve wanted to be valiant: he wanted to take her on long, romantic walks and ask her family for permission to have her hand. But war was hell. They were all exhausted and just a little bit traumatized, all broken and a little bit hopeless. Falling into her, feeling her soft, porcelain skin and kissing her warm, red lips, was like a balm. It didn’t last long, but it gave him fire to keep going, gave him a reason to haul his ass back to camp when he just wanted to lay down in the mud, gave him a reason to wake up another day and fight when he constantly seemed outnumbered and outmanned. 

Some nights, all he could do was focus on getting back to her so he could let his fingers trail over the curve of her hip, so he could feel the weight of her in his arms and her breath puffing against his cheek one more time, as he made his way through mud and snow, as he sat in freezing cold tents and hid in bushes behind enemy lines. 

He didn’t have much to hold on to. No family at home, no one waiting for him. 

They didn’t send letters, there was no way for them to write anything meaningful that wouldn’t get read or censored before it got to the other. 

He just had her, just Peggy, and their wartime romance that felt so fragile it could break like glass any day. 

There were so many things that threatened it. 

They were clearly going against regulations. Most who could find someone did, it wasn’t a secret. Even though he hardly thought Colonel Phillips was one to report them, if someone made an official complaint, he’d have to follow through. 

Either one of them could get killed any day. It was a harsh truth, but one they both knew deep down. Every goodbye was hard because they knew it very well could be their last. Men didn’t come back every day, spies were caught behind enemy lines regularly. Either one of them could be on the next list of casualties, so they kissed and touched and loved as long and as hard as they could with the little time they had. 

Steve tried not to think about Peggy finding someone else, but he had a hard time believing sometimes that she truly loved him. Not for anything she did, really, but for the fact that he still saw himself as a different person, still saw himself as someone that was looked over and dismissed. He constantly worked to prove himself, in the field and to her. 

He wanted to deserve her. 

How could he do that if he couldn’t get her damn eyes right?

~*~

“You’re going to stare a hole right through me, you know.” 

“Huh?” Steve’s eyes widened, realizing he’d been caught. 

Peggy leaned up, kissing him before wiping at the red rim of her lipstick around his lips with her thumb. She pulled the sheet tighter around her, her sweat-slicked skin chilling now that they’d slaked their needs for the time being. “Have I something on my face?”

He shook his head, pushing up to sitting and running a hand across his chin, but didn’t answer. 

Peggy slipped from the bed and wrapped her robe around her nude form, retreating to the small dressing table in the hotel room. It was serendipity: they were in the same city at the same time, her mission not starting for a few days and his just ending. The hotel room was a compromise, the quickest way to hopefully not get caught, to spend a quiet moment in the middle of the maelstrom. She started pulling the pins from her mussed hair, looking over her shoulder at him. “Well?”

He was embarrassed, caught, and didn’t know how to broach it without sounding like a fool. He kept his eyes down, shrugging his shoulders. “I can’t get the eyes right.”

She stilled, hands still pulling a pin from her hair, as only her eyebrow moved, lifting high. “The eyes?”

“Your eyes,” he sighed. He pulled his shorts on and moved to the side of the room, rummaging through his pack and pulling out his small notebook. There was a tear in the corner and half the pages were dogeared, so it bounced to an open page when he put it on the table in front of her, leaning back against the wall. He shrugged again before crossing his arms. “Can’t seem to get them right.”

Peggy was stunned, abandoning the half-done job of her pins as she started flipping carefully through the pages. In between his neat notes about troop movements and mission details were sketches. Some were half done, some were shaded and lined and damn near perfect. 

Almost all of them were of her. 

Her jaw dropped as she flipped through the pages. “Steve…” His name passed breathlessly through her lips, she was so taken with picture after picture of herself. 

“I know.” He shook his head, hiding his face from his in his palm. His words were muffled in his hand.  “It’s stupid, I know.”

She set the book down, looking up at him. “Stupid?”

He just waved his hand at the book. “I guess that, other fellas, well, they get to carry pictures, you know? They get to have letters and day passes and-“

“And we have this.” Peggy easily finished the sentence for him, standing in front of him and taking the notebook with her. She opened the page to her favorite likeness, a profile shaded best he could in pencil, her hair detailed in a sharp victory roll. “But why would you think this is stupid?” 

He didn't have the words to express his embarrassment, his insecurity, so he just shrugged again, pink running hot over his chest and up into his cheeks. 

“This,” she held up the picture, “is not stupid. Far from it, in fact.” Peggy shook her head and put the notebook down, letting her hands rest on his folded forearms. “Do you know what I do?”

He laughed nervously. “No.”

“When I’m on a mission or undercover, I collect the papers.” She leaned back, letting her hands move over his forearms. “I can’t draw, so I collect the papers. The ones that have your picture in them. Easy enough to explain away keeping an old paper or two in your flat to use about the place.” She smiled, just a hint of a smile at the corner of her lips as she holds his gaze. “I can’t have your picture in my purse or a ring on my finger or-“

“You want that?” He interrupted, once again surprised. Her confused hum spurred him to elaborate. He lifted her hand in his, running his thumb over her fingers. “A ring?”

Her half smile bloomed into something wider, something sparkling that he’d only captured on paper rarely. “Eventually.” She took his hand and threaded her fingers in his, reaching for his other, swinging them with a little mischief in her eyes. “Though if you thought we could get away with an elopement without the War Department finding out, I’ll start getting my shoes on.”

His lips crashed into her almost before she could finish getting the last words out. “Silly brute,” Peggy playfully admonished, pushing away from his embrace to sit back at the table and resume pulling her pins out. “As if I wouldn’t marry you after going through all this time and again just for five minutes of peace.”

His laugh was genuine as he stepped behind her, helping her probing fingers pull out the pins that had long since moved and snagged, pushed out of place by his passionate embraces and the friction against the sheets. “I guess I just always hoped. We never really talk about it.”

She took his hand in hers, kissed the back of it over her shoulder, her smile dropping just a little in the mirror across from them. “No, you’re right, but with all the things that could go wrong…”

He ran his hand over her cheek as her words faded, the weight of the world outside their little hotel room creeping in just enough. “With all the things that can go wrong, it’s nice to know that I have someone who wants to see me on the other end of it.”

Peggy turned, holding his hand tight in both of hers, her eyes finding his, warm and sincere. “Always, Steve. I will always be waiting for you to come back to me.”

He leaned down, kissing her gently. “Same, Peg. Every mission you go on, I’ll be waiting.” 

“Good,” she took a deep breath, pushing away the emotions she was far too anxious to not feel while she was in this room. If she got to thinking about leaving in a few hours, it would ruin the time they had left. “Now, let’s get these pins out, shall we?” She turned back, looking up at him in the reflection in the mirror. “I have not had my fill of you, but if we leave them in my hair will be matted beyond recognition and not only will I be dress coded, there will be no question as to where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing.”

Steve kissed the top of her head, pulling another pin out and setting it on the table. “Yes, Ma’am.”

~*~

Luck was on Peggy’s side when Steve and the Commandos made their way into the small base the next day. She would be heading out soon, as would he, but even fifteen minutes would be enough time for what she had planned. 

She passed him in the hallway, stepping in time with him only long enough to say hello to everyone and slip her hand into his pocket without him noticing. 

Ten minutes later, she made a show of bumping into him in the hall, flustered and dropping her pile of papers.

The commandos helped her pick them up, and she smiled like the cat that got the cream as she walked away. 

~*~

“Something wrong with Peg?” Dugan asked as they settled themselves in the back of the transport. 

“Wrong?” Steve asked, settling his shield next to him so he could lean on the wall of the truck. “She looked okay to me.”

Dugan raised an eyebrow under the rim of his bowler. “Carter ran into you like a freight train on a mission. Have you ever known that woman to ever drop anything like a ditzy secretary before?”

Steve looked at his friend, realization slowly dawning. It was unlike Peggy to not know where she was in space and to be clumsy. He’d never seen her trip or barrel into anything unless it was on purpose. And boy, had he seen her do it on purpose to unsuspecting targets when she wanted to get her hands on something they had. “But why…”

Dugan shrugged, pulling his hat over his eyes. “Dunno, friend. Maybe check your pockets.”

Steve started patting himself down as the truck roared to life, bouncing him as it headed out to their destination. Everything was where it should be, everything was accounted for in the right pockets. 

But it didn’t make sense. 

Steve started pulling each thing out, looking over each little piece of equipment. Everything was as he’d put it in there, except his notebook. 

On the very last page was a new entry in Peggy’s neat handwriting. 

My darling, we have the rest of our lives for you to get the eyes right. 

She didn’t sign it. She couldn’t. Not if they wanted to at least continue to pretend to follow the rules. But she did draw a little star symbol next to it. He looked over her words for far longer than he needed to commit them to memory, eyes following the sharp points of the star over and over. On nights to come he would look over them again and again, trying to remember her voice in his mind as he read them. 

He slipped the notebook back in his pocket, closing his eyes and trying to get some sleep before boots had to be on the ground. 

Something bothered him, though. It wouldn’t let him rest.

The star. 

She’d never drawn a star before. They’d never talked about stars or night skies in any significant way. They definitely hadn’t spent time talking about stars last night as he moved in her, dragging his lips over her soft skin and pulling her thigh up over his hip, existing as one for as long as they could muster in the middle of the war. 

No, the little eight pointed, stylized star wasn’t quite right. It had to mean something else. 

Four long points, four short points…

He sat up and shoved his hand in his pocket, pulling his compass out. 

He knew before he even opened it. It smelled just faintly of her perfume. He couldn’t hide his smile as he flicked it open to find her picture staring back at him. It was simple, surely an ID photo she managed to drag up from somewhere. He’d want to know why she had a copy at hand, especially one small enough to fit in his compass. She was full of surprises, though the more he thought about it he was sure it had more to do with the photostats or halftone prints she could get done from the records department on base. 

For now, though, he decided it would be better to just focus on what he had in his hands and not the how. He had her image with him now, everywhere he went she was just a flick away in his pocket. 

He could look at her face on those lonely, cold nights, and use it to help guide him when he felt like pulling out his pencil and trying his hand at her portrait again. 

He’d get her eyes right. 

And if he didn’t?

If he didn’t, she was always with him now.