#i had to break up corpse and taylor so i could get taylor at the end

[quicktimeeventfull]

a wonderful way to kill: a beymane playlist

love songs for the most toxic couple this side of purgatory

listen on spotify or youtube

tracklist under cut

love me love me love me by madotsuki (youtube) or kikuo (spotify)

your love (deja vu) by glass animals

crazy angel by kill hannah

shinigami eyes by grimes

kill the lights by the birthday massacre

intruxx by glass animals

e-girls are ruining my life! by corpse

new invention by i don’t know how but they found me

animals by maroon 5 (living in fiction cover)

the distortionist by ghost and pals

slumber party by ash nikki

barbie & ken by scene queen

risley circus by dadoroma

me! by taylor swift

[thatfreshi]

It's Over (Astarion x Reader)

Hella angst. Will most likely write a part two because I can't see them sad for too long :(

Tw - gore, couple arguing, panic attack

Recommended Song: hoax - Taylor Swift

It's time. Astarion rips Cazador's body from the coffin, bloodlust in his eyes. You've had your doubts about the rite, about Astarion ascending, but he seemed insistent. He whispered sweet things about how he only wanted to keep both of you safe, and it made your skin crawl. Your precious lover, the pale vampire you came to love, he wanted that horrific power for himself, but at what cost?

"Astarion, stop."

His eyes meet yours.

"What my dear? Want to drink me in before I become the ascendant?"

"You don't know what you're doing."

He scoffs.

"Sure I do. Sacrifice the spawn, get rid of Cazador, leave the past behind! We can leave it all behind."

"You'll become just like him, you can be better than this."

"As if I could ever be the monster he is."

Astarion goes to start the ritual, to become something he was never meant to be. Something in you simply snaps, and you grab for your knife.

"What do you need that for?"

Your breathing gets heavy. Thoughts of your adventures, how long it took you to get here, how badly he wanted this, to finally feel safe. He can't help but stare at your shaking figure, wondering what the sudden stress is all about. You say nothing, instead taking a few steps towards the center of the room, by the vampire lord's defenseless body.

"Tav, what are you-"

And suddenly you're on your knees, plunging your knife into Cazador's chest, letting the blood spurt out of his skin, flying into your eyes.

"TAV!"

Astarion scrambles to fight the knife out of your hands, ignoring your tears. His master is already gone though, long gone, his lifeless corpse bleeding out all over the floor. He's frantic, your limbs crashing against each other.

"What have you done?!"

His cries turn into a shout, somewhere warbled between fear and anger.

"He was mine Tav, you knew he was mine!"

Checking for any sign that the vampire is still alive, he has trouble catching his breath. He quickly comes to his feet, realizing it's a fruitless endeavor. The vampire spawn mumbles to himself.

"It can still work, it has to work."

You get up to follow him, trying to get him to turn and face you.

"My lo-"

"Don't! You said you'd help me, you said you'd help me do this!"

Tears start to form in his eyes as the crushing anxiety turns his breathing into a choked wheeze, the beginning of a panic attack ensuing.

"I- I can't- you said."

"Aster, Aster listen to me, please."

You desperately try to hold onto him as he breaks from your grasp, becoming more scattered. He tries to form another sentence, filled with rage and sorrow.

"You... you lied to me! I-"

His body starts to crumble into yours, unsure of where else to go.

"I know. I'm sorry my love. I'm sorry."

The two of you come to the ground, him lying in your arms.

"I'm so sorry Astarion. I did what I had to, I couldn't see you become that monster. I just couldn't lose you like that."

He tries to choke out words in his mumbling breath.

"Hush, you're not breathing. I need you to breathe."

The rest of your companions watch on, knowing this was the plan if you couldn't get Astarion to give up the rite. Most of them can barely watch as he falls apart. You try to rub up and down his back, setting some kind of pace for his breath, but he just keeps trying to talk.

"How could you do this to me..."

It stings, making you wonder if you were wrong, if he'll hate you after this. He probably hates you right now.

"I know, I'm sorry."

He wasn't wrong. After wishing to complete the ascension for so long, ever since Raphael told him of the rite, it felt terrible to take it from him like this. But you knew better, that deep down you were saving him. You just didn't yet know at what cost. He continues to sit in your embrace, and you keep whispering sweet words. At some point his breathing starts to even out, but he just sobs more and more. You can hear Shadowheart and Gale murmuring behind you, somewhere that feels so far from this moment.

"Why?"

His question distracts you from the conversation off in the distance. You don't even know what to say. What in this moment could possibly convince him that this is for the best? He's just scared. He's always been scared, but he doesn't have to become the fear.

"You would've lost yourself. We all would've lost you Aster. I would've lost you."

He almost tries to argue with you, but loses his voice in the misery. It's over. He can't complete it now. You've made his decision for him.

When it comes time to go, he doesn't walk alongside you. The group makes their way back to the inn, and he simply silently walks amongst your companions, as he often did before you ever fell in love. Shadowheart makes her way to the back of the group.

"You did what you had to do. He'll see that eventually."

You liked her words, now you just had to believe them.

Despite the obvious tension, you end up in your room together, and for the first time in a long time he doesn't yearn for your touch. He lays on the bed as far as he can from you, leaving the blankets and sheets up to your discretion. There's not a thought behind his eyes, just shock, and that nagging fear that won't go away.

"I love you."

Astarion doesn't say it back, instead finding that it's too hard to try and sleep in the same room as you. He quickly gets up and storms out of the room, slamming the door. Your tears fall into the sheets he left you with. He ends up knocking on Gale's door, not sure where else to go. Usually he'd make fun of the wizard for various reasons, but he just averts his gaze, until he lets him in.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Gale asks, clearly very tired from today's events.

"No. I just want to be angry."

The man of the weave sighs.

"We all would've done the same. Tav was just the one to execute it."

"There's a very big difference in saying you'd do something, and actually doing it."

Gale lets the conversation go, allowing a space for Astarion to sleep on the bed, grabbing a spare blanket from the chair in the corner.

"They really love you. I know it may not seem like it right now, but Tav loves you more than I've ever seen anything be loved."

"Did I come here to be lectured?"

"Ugh, no. But you can't stay mad at them forever Astarion."

"I'll be the judge of that."

The next morning join your companions downstairs for a sloppily prepared breakfast. Wyll and Lae'zel look prepared to take on the day, talking about Githyanki fighting techniques. Shadowheart and Halsin look over your stock of herbs and potions, and Karlach helps Gale serve up food. Astarion is nowhere to be found. The wizard must've seen the worry in your eyes.

"He's in my room."

You let out a silent 'oh,' and take a serving of breakfast. After a couple minutes of moving the mixture around, you can't seem to force yourself to eat.

"Just go check on him, you're not fooling anyone."

Shadowheart gives you a sad smile. You pass her your food and go back upstairs, finding Gale's room. A soft knock against the door, the sound of the bed creaking inside.

"Aster, my love?"

No response. Against your better judgement, you open the door slowly.

"I don't really feel like talking Tav."

He's reading some tome Gale had lying around, trying to distract himself.

"I know. I just wanted you to know, I really am sorry."

Astarion sighs, setting the book down on the mattress.

"Alright, so we are talking then! Great, whatever you want."

"Don't be like that."

"Be like what? Be mad that you made a very important choice for me, against my will?"

You close the door behind you, knowing it's probably going to get ugly.

"Don't shut me out and pretend like we don't need to have this conversation, is what I meant."

"Fine. We'll have this conversation then."

He checks his nails, trying his best not to look you in the eye.

"I told you what I wanted, I told you what was important to me, and you lied. You lied and said you'd help me get what I want, what I wanted for both of us."

"I didn't think there would be any convincing you until you saw it all again."

"What? All of my mistakes? All the poor innocent people I lured to Cazador? No, not even Sebastian could stop me from finally having the power I deserved. But you? You thought that was your place?"

You squeeze your fist, trying to think of a way to reason with him.

"Even Cazador was like you once. And you saw what he became."

"You're implying I would enslave people and cut them up for fun? After all I've been through?"

"No! I'm just saying it changes people, that kind of power consumes you."

"And who are you to choose that for me? After I've had a million choices made for me, you thought that's what I'd want?"

He stands now, walking over to finally face you.

"I trusted you, and you lied."

Tears fill his eyes again.

"I wanted this for both of us, so we could both be safe forever, and you took that from me!"

"Do you think that's what I would've wanted? To be your little pet? Sit in some grand palace while you have all the power you could ever want?"

"I'd never treat you like that, and you know that Tav."

"Yes, but a vampire lord would, and that's what you'd be. You're not some special case Astarion! You don't become a true vampire, especially from a rite like that, and still be a good person."

"I never wanted to be a good person Tav. I just wanted to be free."

You try to grab onto his hand. At first he avoids your touch.

"You are free. We're free, we can do whatever we want! I gave us that!"

He almost wraps his hand in yours, but pulls back.

"I don't know that though. I'll never truly know that. Cazador may be dead, but now all those spawns are in the Underdark. They could try to come for me, or there could be some Gur on the prowl."

"And we'll all keep you safe. I'll keep you safe my love, I swear it."

For the first time since you've entered, he stares straight at you the whole time he speaks.

"I don't know if that's enough to keep me from hating you right now."

His words stab holes in your heart.

"You don't mean that."

"Don't you tell me what I fucking mean. No one gets to control me anymore. Not you, not Cazador, no one."

"I don't want to control you!"

"What do you call taking my choice away then? You're no better than him."

You almost gasp, breath caught in your throat, stunned by the fact that he would dare compare you to that man.

"Fine. You think I'm just like him? You think I want to control you? I'll make it real easy then. It's over, you can do whatever you want and you don't have to ever take me into consideration again!"

He tries to throw more venom at you, but you leave and slam the door before he can get the words out. You don't even stop by your room to grab anything, instead you storm out of the inn, walking past all your companions without a word. Shadowheart tries to call after you, but to no avail. You're lost in the crowds almost immediately, not even sure where you're going. Just away from him. Away from the only thing you've truly loved.

[darkphoenix07]

Hi love if requests are still opened may I have an established relationship hongjoong oneshot where reader isolates herself frequently because of mental health and spends a lot of unwanted time in bed because she can’t muster up the courage to get up where hj helps her start her day and stuff?

Hongjong helps you as you isolate yourself often

Masterlist

Series Poll

Mental Health Request

Paring : Hongjong x Reader

Genre : Comfort, Fluff, Romance, Dance

Song 🎶: Everything I wanted by Billie Eilish and Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift

7.00 a.m.

You hear Hongjong entering the house as he parks his car in the garage. You want to get up, run towards him and hug him. You want to break in his arms feeling free as tears leave your eyes. You wish you could get up but it's too hard.

You have been lying on the bed for the whole day like a corpse. He called you a million times for having breakfast but you said you weren't hungry. He left kissing you goodbye, saying he loves you. But you didn't even say love you back. You laid there not moving a single muscle, not taking shower or having food.

Right now you can't feel your body. You don't feel like you are in this universe anymore. The pain, the anxiety, the panic attack have taken over your body suppressing everything.

"Baby, are you home?" His sweet voice echoes in the living room.

You haven't touched him for how long you don't remember. You don't know when was the last time, you kissed him, hugged him properly. Sex is far.

"Baby!" The way he calls you baby. It should pick your body up. You feel guilty for being such a prick. But you can't help. You imagine how he will leave you alone, you'll be able to lay here for the rest of your life until you actually become a corpse.

There looking for you, he enters in your room. Seeing the darkness of your room, the curtains all down, your blanket covering half of your body and you same gaze at the ceiling, he understands you haven't moved from the bed.

"Hey, are you feeling alright?" He asks entering as he touches you forehead.

"Hm," you mumble not wanting to get attacked with more questions.

But he notices how messed up your hair is though you aren't warm or cold. You are still wearing the dress from three days ago which means you haven't showered for three days.

You think of the consequences that will occur if he switches on the lights, pulls the blanket off you and starts screaming at you. What will you do?

You wait for it but the lights aren't being turned on, no screaming is around you like it used to happen in your household. Its more quite than usual that you can hear his heartbeat beside yours.

"Can I get inside?"

You would have said no. You would have pushed him away. But the way he asked you, the way he plead like he is asking foe forgiveness that you had to move slightly making space for him.

He gets inside the blanket though you know you stick as bad as a garbage can. He pulls you on his hand, "I want to have dinner outside with you or we can have a terrible cheat day. Only street foods and chocolate or ice cream. What do you say?"

You don't answer him so he looks at you with all of the love he has for you, "Or we can stay here in the bed while I sing for you. Then we can take a shower together while dancing and order dinner. I can make you some too but I am not as good as Wooyoung when it comes to cooking."

You look at him with sleepy eyes. His touch makes you realize how long you haven't slept. Maybe three days or more. It happened without any reason. You don't know why you are feeling like this life doesn't matter or why you don't want to move. You feel heartbroken, guilty for not having a single reason to tell him why you are feeling this much heavy.

"Baby. You'll become sick. I would let you stay here but you look so pale. I am worried," he says pulling you close to his chest, "You know how much I love you, right?"

You wanted to walk up a while ago. But it was just night. The ending of another day you could have spent productively that you wasted. You feel so disgusted by your own self but the man in front of you gazing at you like you are some diamond.

"I don't know what to do," that's when you speak up because you don't want to disappoint him. He has so much patience and hope for you. You understand now that if you speak up maybe he will understand but it's just too hard.

"Will you let me do something for you?" He asks kissing your forehead gently.

You don't say anything as a positive answer and he gets up, "Stay in your little paradise for some moment. I am coming back."

He says and rushes outside. After some while, you hear his car's sound. You don't understand and you forget that you should care after sometimes. You curl around hugging your blanket drowning in your dark side again.

You don't know how long it passes away before Hongjong comes, "I am going to pick you up. Okay?"

He warns you so you can say no if you want to. But you don't say anything or do anything as he cradles you up in his arms and walks outside the room. You notice the lights are all off, there is just the chandelier lighting in the living room.

As he enters in the bathroom of the room you two share, you see there are scented candles on the sink area. He doesn't stop here, he places you inside the tub filled with purple flower petals, you don't understand what flower are these. But the sudden warm water washes thrill over your whole body. You start feeling a little better from the warm water.

He helps you take off the clothes and runs outside again. You start hearing him playing Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift in the background before he enters in the bathroom again with a fruit salad bowl.

He sits outside the tub feeding you the salad, "I thought you may faint so I had to give you some food and suger."

You smile as you keep having the fruits one by one. Some little effort is all you wanted to give to feel better again but it was too hard.

"Join me," you tell him making his eyes go big.

He places the bowl on the sink and makes you stand up, "I have a better idea," and pushes the shower button. Cold water starts washing over both of you and you start giggling seeing him shiver.

It's so adorable yet fascinating how he is looking and acting right now. He holds your one hand and wraps your waist with another, "Let's dance in the rain."

"It's literally summer," you tell him as he spins you while the water of the tub splashes around dripping on the floor.

"Who cares?" He says pulling you towards him and again moving you with him. The dance, the movements, they are so messy yet perfect for your body to feel alive. It's like every cell of your body is waking up one by one.

"Kiss me," he says cupping your face in his hands and your lips find his in no time.

You wish you would have talked about your feelings to him earlier, you wish you wouldn't waste your time, you wish you would kiss him back and say love you back. But it's alright, you tell yourself. It's alright because I can do it now.

"Hongjong," you say as you wrap yourself in the towel and he looks at you.

"I love you," you tell him and his smile gets bigger than ever.

"I love you," he says and pecks you on the lips.

No, you haven't stopped feeling the heaviness yet but you have stopped blaming yourself making it look like a crime for feeling depressed without any reason. Every feeling is precious after all.

For the people who thinks your feelings aren't valid. They are.

[eddiediazismyhusband]

Do you think buddie was meant to go canon in S4, how do you think they would have done it?

I fully believe that buddie was intended to go canon in early s5 after eddie was shot. there was so much surrounding buck’s reaction to eddie being shot, eddie only focusing on making sure buck wasn’t also hurt, buck breaking down in front of chris, the discussion of the will…. they set up those building blocks to showcase that there was something deeper there with buck and eddie and then……. season 5 happened bc KR took over (FOX also had to do with the decision as well but…) but i think Tim was trying to intentionally write them into a corner but was moved to LS before he could ever get there himself.

I think s5 would have started out with eddie having the same realizations about not wanting to be with ana, and that it would lead to him reexamining his feelings for buck when buck would have been the one to comfort him through it. I think this version of s5 taylor would have noticed buck’s dedication to eddie and had a heary to heart with him about how he needs to be true to himself, and we would have gotten buck accepting his feelings (i also hc that in this timeline, buck knew he was bi already he just never felt the need to bring it up) and he and taylor would part ways as friends (taylor wouldn’t fuck everything up in this universe either) and buck would want ti confront his feelings, but before he got the chance to, eddie would leave the 118. buck would view this as eddie leaving him behind and not face the music. they would follow a similar path of canon s5 leading up to the big PTSD breakdown in 5x13 where buck would go to eddie’s when chris called. we would see buck immediately fall into place to take care of eddie (just like in canon) and it would lead to plenty of moments where they are just on the edge of something but never cross the line. they continue to dance around each other; buck saying he wants to give eddie some time to breath post-breakdown, eddie saying he doesn’t want buck to rush into a relationship after taylor (obviously not knowing the bereakup was bc of his feelings for eddie) and then finally in 5x18 while eddie and may are having their simultaneous arcs of what comes next, they would have a heart to heart where may would tell eddie he needs to stop waiting around and go after what makes him happy— this would lead to an emotional confession scene at hen and karen’s vow renewal where eddie would tell buck exactly how he feels, and buck, in lieu of a reply, kisses eddie and that would be how s5 ended, ushering buddie canon in s6 where we see them stumble, the whole wack-ass donor plotline would go away bc eddie would be there to talk some sense into buck, eddie would tell the buckley parents to fuck off, buck would still get struck by lightning and eddie would grapple with the idea of losing someone else (to give that shannon angst another stroke), we still get the poker date where it’s still a fluffy buddie moment, buck would continue recovering but he and eddie would grow distant bc buck would have similar post-lightning strike stress about not knowing what to feel, and eddie sould be repressing his emotions about it— lead to some angst with natalia flirting w buck, buck being flattered at someone not treating him like a living corpse, eddie getting pissed st this woman for thinking buck’s death is “cool” and thinking that buck might leave him for natalia, they have a mini (VERY mini) devorce era 2.0 that would get resolved during the freeway collapse and s6 would end with a bathena parallel of them getting secret married. then s7 would have been completely different bc we would have no racist man, no weird nun storyline, no doppelgänger bullshit, etc. We would get some secretly married buddie, possibly some more discussions of catholic guilt bc eddie doesn’t know if he’s ready to come out to his parents yet, eddie would come out to them and they would react badly, and s7 would end w ramon and helena starting a custody battle w buck and eddie over christopher.

yes i basically just rewrote the entirety of s5-7 but we deserved better than what we got from each of those seasons so 🤷🤷 if the creators won’t fo it themselves, someone has to.

anyway i hope this answered your question anon lmao <3 i kinda just sat down and started typing this out with no real clear direction but honestly… i might consider a series of fix-it fics to rewrite s5-7 in the future… but i make no promises

[trans-queen-administrator]

Honestly? I think Aisha had a crush on Taylor, and it makes her character so much more fun too. Her first meeting she gets to tease her a bunch and then the next time they meet she sees that Taylor is incredibly brutal and idk. I think she's weird enough that that would make a spark for her. Obviously Taylor barely noticed Aisha, and ends up dating her brother, so I think this crush withered a bit and likely made her kinda bitter as a whole, in large part because Aisha hurts a lot when people she wants to notice her don't. She thinks she's over it when Taylor leaves, she's been hurt enough already, and then Taylor comes back and oh no she is not over it at all and so she flirts with her a few times through Gold Morning, and she has an actual emotional moment with Taylor where she tells her it's ok to feel things, and she gave up on the crush but maybe she can still be important enough for Taylor to notice and not dismiss.

And then Taylor is barely Taylor, and Aisha is following her through portal after portal, watching as the fun-to-tease dumbass that made her heart flutter becomes more and more unhinged. Taylor is unraveling at the seams, and she's doing it all alone, even surrounded by thousands of capes for her army she's so alone. Except for Aisha. Taylor doesn't even know Aisha is there, she's never noticed her anyway, but she's alone and she's breaking down and she's still the woman Alec teased her about liking all those years ago. So Aisha does all she can to soothe her even as she stops being her, she sings soothing melodies, fixes Taylor's hair, gently rubs her back. So many things Taylor would never let happen, but that she needs to have. And then the golden man dies, and everyone is surrounding Taylor and wondering what to do with her, and she's going to attack them, and Aisha finally lets her power down and Taylor notices her for once. The joy from that hardly makes up for having her free will stolen and a knife put in her mouth as a threat, and if Aisha could move she'd let out a bitter laugh about how fitting it is that this was the time Taylor noticed her.

And then Taylor is gone. She's not coming back this time. And despite Aisha's best efforts, she can't quite move on from the crush just like she can't move on from Alec's friendship. So she does what she wishes people would do for her, she makes sure Taylor is remembered. She confronts Shadow Stalker and lets her know just how much Taylor mattered, because all those people afraid of Khepri and wanting to forget her didn't see her as tears streamed down her face and blood dried on her skin and her posture slumped like a corpse. They didn't see how human she was, how much she sacrificed. But Aisha did. Aisha saw the girl that she had fun teasing in the apartment slowly disappear. She saw someone so determined that they left their mind behind for the greater good. She saw Taylor at her lowest, and she was the only one who really saw her. She'll never get over seeing the hollow shell of Taylor Hebert breaking down as she sings to her, she'll never forget her. So she has to make sure other people don't forget her. It's her love language, and sometimes it feels like no one else speaks it.

[transman-badass]

Which Image - A Chzo Mythos fanfic

Title comes from the song Witch Image by the band Ghost. If there's interest I'll write more and explain to my followers what this game series is.

Apologies to the people who wanted to be tagged in this, Tumblr isn't recognizing your urls. I'll try to tag in a reblog. Also apologies to the British if my American ass screwed things up. I'll make edits as needed.

London, 2015

In between the crackling thunder, a young man screamed in agony, sweet as the music of a harpsichord.

Footsteps pounded like the rain through the stolen, repurposed corpse of a building. An office, once, now a shell like any other mortal body. Down the many stairs the footsteps carried, sneakers squeaking wet on dirty tile. Down the stairs and through the halls, she ran.

Why the persistence? Too late, far too late, to save her friend. But the young woman resisted the obvious. Dark of hair and pure of heart, he could not harm her yet. He watched the sweat drip down her warm brown skin, how she brushed the strands of hair from her face. Standing, kneeling, struggling, suffering.

He watched and he wondered. Yes, he did wonder.

It'd been a strange choice, to offer up an American for a sacrifice, but Chzo was not a picky god. This young woman could not have looked more different from her light-haired friend. But in her eyes, a desperate fire burned, and looking away proved a challenge.

That fire… She reminded him of someone. How distasteful.

Of course, of course, too late for her friend. She opened the door to strangers standing over the remains. Of course, of course, too late for her. The cult would spare her, when they caught her, he would ensure it…

They did not catch her.

They did not even notice her, too consumed with their own escape. The Ministry agents closed in, fortune smiling upon them once again. She fled, they fled, and it had all gone wrong.

He could've been furious.

He could've been.

Instead, he stood upon the old building, his shadow stretching long in the light flashing overhead. He stood, and he watched her race into the darkness, her parcel, their parcel, clutched to her frail body.

He watched, and yes, yes he wondered.

She reminded him of someone… Cabadath wasn't sure he liked that.

It'd been almost twelve hours before anyone realized the girl was gone. Far too late to save her life. The Order of Blessed Agonies worked fast. But so did Trilby.

The Order must've been desperate to prey on tourists. They had to have known who they were choosing. The accents on these kids weren't subtle. Five of them came overseas on spring holiday, bright eyed and oblivious. Three headed home tonight. The other two would follow in coffins.

“Trilby,” one of his supervisors said, “I know what you're thinking. Don't put yourself at risk to try and save this kid.”

“I'm already at risk,” he'd said. “What's a little more?”

“We need you alive - and so do they.”

And that was the thing, wasn't it? The Order wouldn't keep this girl, this Jillian Taylor Cortez, alive, but he couldn't say they'd do the same with him. Damned prophecies…

Her name was Jillian Taylor Cortez. She just turned 19. Mexican-American mother, British father. Got her middle name because the latter died before she was born, so said her friends.

She looked nothing like Simone Taylor. If she had, Trilby might've lost it again.

Twelve hours, they found the boy, or what was left of him. They'd followed the muddy footprints from the ground floor all the way to the altar. Trilby followed them back up, frowning. Pretended he didn't see the glances between the ones around him.

He had a hunch.

Just a hunch, but he'd been doing this for almost twenty years now. Just a hunch, he'd say later… but he'd been right before.

“Don't you dare!” Someone shouted at his back. “Damn it, Trilby! Get back here! It's not worth it!”

He ignored them, ignored the rain soaking his suit. Wasn't breaking the rules if nobody up top told you not to. Besides, he was just following a hunch. Just giving a quick check around the buildings. No harm in that.

No harm on her, when he caught her dead center in the light of his torch.

He stared at her and she stared right back, her eyes wide and hollow. The rain soaked her right through, plastering clothes to skin and hair to her cheeks. The bow in her hair, half undone. The fear in her eyes, too painful, too real.

Trilby raised a hand.

“Jill-”

She bolted.

“Wait! No!”

Trilby followed.

The kid knew how to run. Ran through the streets like the world was ending. Trilby kept up. He wasn't young anymore, he'd feel it for the next few days, but he kept up. So did the rain.

Only took a few wrong turns. She didn't know anything about the area - neither did he, to be fair. Was only a little bit of a surprise to find themselves in another alley, to come across the fence blocking their way. Was a very big surprise when the girl ran right for it.

“Jillian!” He shouted over the thunder. “Jill!”

Did she even hear him? She didn't stop. Lunged for the fence, one hand grasping the chain link metal. Trilby moved faster than her.

He grabbed her around the waist. She screamed. They both hit the ground, he let her go and she scrambled backwards. He shifted, sat up, looked her in the face again.

Terrified eyes, wide and wild. It wasn't just the rain soaking her cheeks, the spring weather shuddering her shoulders.

Trilby raised his hands.

“Jillian,” he said. “It's alright, Jill. I'm with the Ministry of Occultism. We're here to help you. I can't believe you're still alive…”

She breathed. She held the book in her arms tight. Book? He looked down at it. Heavy, large, leather bound. Some kind of writing on the cover.

Oh my God, he thought. Did she steal that from the Order?

Trilby looked up to her face again. Her eyes locked onto something over his shoulder.

Trilby jerked out of the way. The blade buried into the ground he'd stood moments before. Trilby moved, backed away as far as he could go, the blood draining from his face.

“Oh, hell,” Trilby said.

The featureless face of the Prince of Pain tilted towards him. Cabadath had not changed at all in the last twenty years. Bone chilling, even after all these years and all their meetings. Still ever the same, nine feet tall and dressed in black, the rain coursing down his long coat and leaving the fabric dry. The Prince straightened in slow motions, raising the four pronged scythe and resting it by his side.

Still the Prince stared at him, though he had no eyes to do so. He raised a hand and pointed to the girl.

Jill. She'd gotten out of the way just in time. Trilby couldn't risk looking away from the Prince for longer than an instant, Cabadath moved too fast, but she still breathed, standing against the fence. Her eyes, still wild, locked onto the terror between them.

Had Cabadath been chasing her too? The Prince had powers like no human ever could. Hallucinations were a favorite, Trilby knew that from experience.

The Prince waited.

Trilby took a breath.

“Jillian,” he said. “Give him the book.”

She did not move but her whole body shuddered with her breath.

“He's playing nice right now,” Trilby said, eyes locked on the Prince, “but he doesn't have to. You don't know what he's fully capable of, you've just seen part of it.”

Jillian did not move.

“There's nothing in that book that can help you,” Trilby said. “You don't want to get involved with this more than you have been. I don't know how you got it, but you need to give it back. Before he takes it from you.”

Her body shuddered. Jillian blinked, hard. The Prince did not move. He did not look away.

Her arms unlocked. She took another deep, shuddering breath. Holding the book in careful hands, she laid it upon the ground at her feet, and stepped away. And away. And away.

Trilby watched the Prince. He did not notice where the young woman moved to, until she stopped. Stopped between him and Cabadath, facing the Prince, her arms stretched out as if she could protect Trilby from the monster watching them.

Protect him from Cabadath. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry at the thought.

The Prince tilted his head. His gaze shifted towards the girl. Trilby placed a hand on Jillian’s shoulder. Cabadath’s shoulders shook, as if in silent laughter. But of course, no sound came from the Tall Man. They were not worth the effort.

Turning away from the mortals, Cabadath stepped toward the book. He knelt, and with one long free hand, picked it up. Turning fully back towards the two humans, he bowed a mocking thanks. Trilby set his teeth, held Jill's shoulder as she flinched.

As the Prince straightened, he vanished. The rain poured down over them and the tension disappeared from Trilby's body. Cabadath truly was gone. For now.

Jillian sobbed.

Trilby's focus snapped to her again. Shit.

“Jill?”

She placed her hand over her mouth as the sobs shook her body.

“Cal,” she whispered the name of her friend. “Cal, I'm sorry.”

He couldn't think of anything to say. Trilby wrapped an arm around her and pulled out his phone with the other. How long had it been ringing?

“Yeah?” He said. “Yeah, I'm alright. Yeah, we're both okay. I found the girl, she's alive. It's… it's a long story. I'll explain everything back at headquarters.”

Trilby held the young woman against his body as he led her back into the light. He glanced uneasy at the roofs above them, expecting a tall shadow staring down, but only the rain waited overhead, the drops falling down between her tears.

[gallifreyriver]

You may or may not have already heard about Blockout2024, and either way, here are some suggestions to make sure your activism here isn't being performative.

First, what it is for those unfamiliar: Blockout2024 is a movement to block celebs/influencers not using their platforms to speak up for Palestine, and it all started with this year's Met Gala- more specifically Hayley Bayley's "Let them eat cake" Met Gala tiktok, which was (rightfully) not well received by anyone considering everything going on right now, most of all the genocide in Palestine.

Now that that is out of the way, what do I mean by "make sure your activism here isn't being performative," ?

The blockout started with very good intentions, but in just a couple days it turned from "Let's send a message by blocking this handful of ultra wealthy celebs who aren't using their massive influence to speak up for Palestine" (I believe it started with Taylor Swift, the Kardashians, Lizzo and maybe a couple others?)

And now it's largely become "Now we're blocking ALL celebs and influencers! Even if they start speaking up- because it's too little too late!"

Now don't get me wrong! It seemed to be working famously at first. Kim Kardashian lost 3 million followers in like a day on Insta, and all this commotion made Lizzo and Brittany Broski finally make posts speaking out about Palestine (even if they did give off the energy of "Here! Damn...")

But I think a lot of us saw that, and got too excited for our own good. People started expanding the block list with no organization, or research, or any real plan whatsoever.

I can't tell you how many posts I've seen where someone posted a new block list, only to apologize and have to remove names because they were informed that said person either had spoken up, was donating money, or were just focusing their time on other equally important causes (like Sudan and Congo) right now.

I saw people even started putting Bella and Gigi Hadid on the block list, whose father is literally a Palestinian refugee, because Gigi went to the Met Gala. Bella has been so outspoken about Palestine this whole time, and Gigi -while not as vocal as her sister- has spoken up in support of Palestine as well.

I've also seen people just putting names on lists just to put names on the list, it seems. Corpse Husband was on one list for not speaking up, but apparently he hasn't even been active online in two years due to health issues. And while writing this I also found out that people have been putting Alan Rickman on the blocklist.

I'll say that again- Alan... Rickman. A man who has been dead for EIGHT YEARS, and who also very much showed his support for Palestine while he was alive.

It's time to admit that we've lost the plot.

At point break speed this movement went from something with great potential to performative action. It's all just performative action anymore and people policing others for not performing said activism in the way they personally want to see.

Now, if you want to block a celeb/influencer, I'm not going to stop you. You have the power to give - or not give - your attention to whomever you please. I will say though that if you want this blockout to work we can't keep going about it like this. There's a reason you've seen it losing momentum in such a short amount of time.

Consider this a call-in.

If we're going to do this we need to keep it organized. I think we had the right idea at first with blocking the Kardashians, Swift, and Lizzo to put pressure on them to use their highly influential platforms to speak up for Palestine. I'm sure a couple others could be added to this list, but honestly I don't really keep up with celeb culture enough to be able to name more names right now.

In addition, if anybody else, we should be outright blocking those who have outright refused to speak up and/or sides with Israel. I'm talking people like Bret Gelman, Gal Gadot, Dr. Phil, etc. People heavily outspoken in favor of Israel who constantly double down, spread misinformation, and just do not care about Palestinian lives. These are the people who aren't going to listen to any opposition, and don't deserve a platform because they are complicit with genocide.

With that said, I don't think we should automatically be blocking anyone who hasn't spoken up yet. Those are the people we need to be putting pressure on. Make them show us exactly who they are. No more keeping quiet, or trying to play both sides. Let them know we need to know where they stand, and if they can't stand against genocide, we won't stand with them- and they can fall to the same digitine. ("Digital guillotine," for those unaware) And as for those who may have posted in support back in October but are silent now, my suggestion is that we need to put pressure on them to speak up again. Show them that one post from months ago doesn't get them a free pass forever- if they aren't continuing to speak up, or helping in other ways like transferring some of their massive wealth into helping families evacuate, we don't need them. But the point very much is to put pressure on them first and give them time to show us they will. If we outright block them it does nothing to help accomplish our goal- which is to get more of them to speak up.

Also on that note, I also suggest we make it clear that we do not want posts about Palestinian GoFundMe's from multimillionaire celebs unless it's a post about how they paid it off themselves. When they can pay off the balance and not feel a thing, there's no reason why they should be asking us, the poors, to donate. It's simply performative on their part. (Did they learn nothing from the Oprah/The Rock Maui incident?) If anything, they need to be asking their other rich celeb friends to donate, not us.

Perhaps it could be a weekly culling. Pick a list of five to ten celebs/influencers to put pressure on for a week, then block whoever refuses to speak up and start up with a new list the following week, and so on, until they all start getting the message.

We also need to abandon the whole "It's too little, too late!" way of thinking.

We need to remember that this is about helping Palestine, not about our own feelings.

It doesn't matter if we feel like they should have spoken up months ago- we cannot punish the behavior we want to see, and the behavior we want to see is these celebs/influencers using their influence for good. Yes, they should have spoken up from the start, but we still need them to speak up now. If we send the message that they're damned if they don't and still damned if they do, it actually incentivizes them to just... not- because they're damned either way.

And finally, we need to start promoting the celebs who have been doing the work, both new and especially those who have been speaking up all along. This will also send a message to the rest. I'm talking Mark Ruffallo, Bella Hadid, Pedro Pascal, Emma Watson, and so many others. We need to be giving them our attention over those who refuse to speak up.

In summary:

For this to work we need to be organized and targeted about it. Have a small block list of ultra wealthy/ultra influential celebs/influencers to block first. This will send a message to the rest, who we'll be putting pressure on at the same time. Call them in, tell them they need to tell us where they stand and that they need to use their influence to do good and speak up against the genocide. Tell the multimillionaires to transfer some of that wealth into helping families escape. If they won't, then we will no longer give them the attention that makes them so much of that money. And we need to be giving a larger platform not just to those celebs who are taking the time to do the work, so that their influence can reach further than it already does, but also more importantly Palestinian voices because they are the ones who are going to tell us what they need right now. Voices like Bisan Owda, Plestia Alaqad, Hind Khoudary, and Motaz Azaiza.

You might recognize this as similar to the model of the BDS movement, and that's because it is. Because they absolutely know what they're doing with the targeted action, and that's why it works.

And again, the moment we start with "It's too little too late!" is the moment we have centered our own feelings over Palestine. We need these celebs' influence, and there is such a thing as 'better late than never' when so many lives are still at stake.

Please don't let your ego get ahead of your common sense.

Ok, call-in over. I hope someone who needs to hear this takes this to heart.

[wormbloggign]

genuinely interested in what taylors reading here, assuming it isnt required reading for school since the prt seems to have regulations on and about juvenile capes

i wonder if its twilight?

self care!!! (she would not give herself this kind of time off if she werent in prison)

taylors back to her favourite pastime again!

the logistics around this would be very funny to figure out, though i pity the sap that has to change the bug-ket when it gets full

that explains how quickly they got it, i had assumed dragon was just being creepy and had pre-made the hero!skitter costume in the hopes it came up.

this way is probably better

...

yeah, nah that's not gonna work. "mistakes" is doing a bit too much heavy lifting on your part armsdealer

he is staying as STILL as POSSIBLE (goofy guy behaviour)

so were currently 2 for 2 on PRT non-cape fuckheads, lets see how he holds up! (either way i somehow doubt he is long for this world)

Mrs Yamada. I like where you're coming from but therapy + 10 judgemental onlookers might not be the best call.

aw fuck hes getting downright endearing

REAL (clockblocker has shot up to S tier)

WORLDS SLIMIEST MAN (its nice that hes on taylors side but like wow this guy is shit)

GIRL!! NOW IS NOT THE TIME FOR SPOT CHECKING!!

she does not give up on her hobbies gd

dont worry, all im doing is setting up a large scale surveillance state, perfectly ethically and legally sound.

okay ignore any bad ting i may have ever expected to say about glenn.

THIS MAN GETS IT

YES!!!

WERE GETTING DOWN THE PRESENTATION!!!!

the dissonance is too powerful for him, he's seen taylor at some of her most nightmariest highs and now she's going through the same public relations hoops he had to

i really wasnt trying to find him this charming, i really wasnt

taylor drops ONE (1) bugfact and suddenly shes getting called a nerd. maybe the endbringers are right, we really should kill them all

d-doesn't he go to classes on exacty this?

what am i saying, he wouldnt pay attention in school

yes actually, 'disturbing' does suit your swarm of insects quite well as an adjective

i get that we're supposed to be a little annoyed at the constant micromanaging but i expected theyd do at least this much, im surprised she didnt get some media training beforehand, theyre being pretty hands off, all things considered.

maybe thats because they want her to fail though :(

eyyyy! thats... deeply disturbing as a heroes one-liner actually. maybe take some more time workshopping that

oh that's nice, her bugs worked to break concentration, this is a fight against dnd wizards

LETS GET ELDRITCH BABEYYY

unbe-weaver-ble

i do love how hard theyre commited to the bit though

legitimately sick burn

had to be done, glenn wont be happy though

B)

“Taylor Hebert?  On the issue with the bug population of my facility, I feel it would be a very bad idea to provide you with a caustic substance to give your bugs, given what your file says you achieved with capsaicin.  I had a bug zapper purchased, and you should be able to access it with each and every one of your tiny soldiers.  I expect to see it used, understand?”

(moving to copy paste bc tumblr says no more screenshots)

immensely funny solution

The spiders, I kept on hand, directing them to the burned corpses.  They could breed, in time, and I could put them somewhere where they wouldn’t encounter any people. Breaking the rules, maybe, but it was something to occupy my thoughts.  It made me feel just a little safer, a little more like myself.

its gonna be so funny when the wardens find the underground spider breeding ring

[delurkr]

The Semicentennial Nightmare Walk au

For your consideration: A version of events where the reincarnation cycles are real, and every time they die they get trapped in the spirit world and run around the town of Little Hope (however it looks in their era) trying to save themselves from the same demons, and their tether in the material world is always the A-boy who outlived the previous cycle. The A-boy is always traumatized by what happened when he was 18 and he always looks crazy to the people in the material world, and from 1692 on down the line the cycles have always failed to beat their demons up to and determinately including the 2020 cycle, and when they fail the next cycle starts.

Does it make any sense? Probably not. But to illustrate, the way this would look for the 1972 cycle is:

The five Clarkes die in the house fire and Anthony gets hurt like canon. All six of them wake up in the spirit-world housefire and get out of the house minimally injured. They start wandering around the town, which continues to look just how they knew it, and they're figuring out what they're going to do next and whatever, but only Anthony gets proper responses from people they try to talk to. They think it's weird; they know the townspeople and all and they're still getting ignored. It's night so there aren't too many people out around town but there are more people than in 2020 when it was just Vince acting weird, so it's easier for the Clarkes to theorize stuff about being dead and all. They get the same 1600s flashbacks, presumably recognizing Carver as Carson, and the demons start coming after them.

So Anne, Tanya, Dennis, and James get chased and are each conquered by their demons at any point during the night. (Megan has been involved but she's a spectator and still distant and uncommunicative like before they died). Anthony, Megan, and whichever of the others are left then make it to the final flashback, which does not necessarily take place at the ruined house, and Anthony along with one of the other adults make the big choice. Even if they save Mary, the remaining demons then kill the rest of their targets because nobody broke their locked traits. Megan is around somewhere, but no matter what the "ending" was Anthony then returns to the material world and wakes up in the hospital or whatever went on the morning after the housefire. He was unconscious the whole night, and in fact the person who had been running around the material world interacting with the townspeople and everything is the guy from 1917, the previous cycle:

who is old now and is probably reclusive and not known to many of the townspeople. They think he's weird because of the way he's been acting while he was Anthony's tether, and he could be arrested or not depending on how he acted. About a month passes and then, because the Clarkes failed to break the curse, Angela is born in February 1972.

And then yadda yadda everyone grows up and the 2020 events of the game happen, and this time it's Andrew in the spirit world with Anthony in the material one. Whether Andrew gets arrested, makes it to the diner, stays at the ruined house, or shoots himself, it only affects Anthony because the moment we get the reveal of the bus driver is when Andrew wakes up in the hospital or at the site of the crash or wherever, and Angela, Daniel, John, Taylor, and the little girl are corpses who died in the crash. If any of the four adults failed to beat their demons, a new cycle will be reincarnated. The size of the next cycle could determinately be just 3 people (A-boy, M, and only one person who did not break their locked traits) or any number up to the full 6, but Andrew will still be the tether. And the cycles continue like that until all of A-lady, J, T, and D have beaten their demons.

So... did anyone read all of that? If something doesn't make sense go ahead and poke holes in it, I won't be offended lol

[jezabatlovesbats]

My brother and I reacted to Elf on the Shelf: An Elf’s Story. Here are our notes.

The quality is the same as we remember. 

How do you become a scout elf? Is it like the space ranger academy? Is there, like, military-style elf training?

“A special case?” (Cut to PlainRock destroying an elf on the shelf box.)

We elves can see everythiiiiig… so be nice!

He thought this has the same animation quality as PMATGA and Free Birds.

A letter falls off… and then it’s just PlainRock’s name.

Do ALL special cases just fall off the mail stack like that?

What if there was some kind of badge or something that indicated your rank as an elf? 

Chippey is willing to potentially sacrifice himself… 

Why does Santa’s beard look like it’s solid? 

So Santa gives the assignments? Do they even have resumes?

Then, he proceeds to cut the line.

Also, all the background elves look like copy-paste NPCs. 

Is not having belief in Santa a touchy, taboo subject to bring up here? I’d assume so.

How did literally everyone hear that? Do elves have supersonic hearing? Then again, when I was younger, I believed our elves could hear everything I was doing. 

I’d be terrified if I went through that shipping process. 

The original elf on the shelf book was published in 2005. What was supposedly the situation before then? 

What if that slide jump thing missed? Would the elves get seriously injured? 

And then he gets flung onto a doorstep?!

“It came! It came!” That means they ordered it. But according to this lore, Santa and his whole North Pole setup is actually real, so how did they? 

My brother says that either the twins ordered it themselves, or the parents are really good actors. But then, how did the twins find out what it is?

He also says that Taylor has a severe case of Tom Holland face. Also, according to the back of the box for this special, he’s 9.

He’d love to name his elf Stinkypants. Or Shredder. Or Ripjaw. 

“Your name is Sh*tbag. Now fly.” “No, mom! Don’t let his name be Sh*tbag!” 

This whole special, but with unnecessary censorship (like in those videos). 

If this special came out today and Taylor had an Xbox with a mic, it would be way different. 

Ooooh… it’s one of those singing things…

“Princess is nice.” Drag Queen Chippey when?

Can you imagine if he’d actually been named Dazzle McNoodle, Bergoopuff Special, or Fruity McNooty? 

If you named him Skeeter, he probably would’ve turned into an elf version of Mater. 

Taylor in this moment: “Eh, screw it. If I’m gonna have this thing spying on me, I might as well treat it with respect.” “What about Chippey?”

“Buddy…” If Elf hadn’t come out years prior to this, there wouldn’t have been a joke to make here. 

They stole this kid’s idea. A “Thank you, Batman! Your ideas are the best!” moment.

If an elf dies in the house, would the kids think its corpse is watching them? Would they even know? 

How does he know about the magic-flying? Did other scout elves tell him and other newbies about all this? 

Same vibe as, “Go, web! Fly! Up up and away, web!” 

That photo implies that the real Santa took time out of his busy life to go to a random Macy’s in the middle of some northern state. 

“Time to report to Santa! He’s gonna love hearing my plan!” (later…) “Okay, Santa, here’s how we execute him…”

My brother says Smash at Snowflake. (But how old is she?)

How fast do the elves fly? 

We imagined our youngest brother’s elf telling his name to the other elves and getting bullied for it. 

“What’s your name?” “I’m Sonic!” 

Every elf turns in his direction, and it cuts to them beating the hell out of him. “HAHAHAHAHH LOOOOL! IMAGINE BEING NAMED AFTER A CRINGY FRANCHISE WITH A CRINGY FANBASE!” 

“We’re on our way to snitch on our kid to Santa for the first time!”

They’re ice skating… on snow??

You can just tell when the commercial breaks would be in this. 

Then he proceeds to get back to doing Toy Story stuff. Like, Elf on the Shelf is pretty much like Toy Story, but much more Christmas-flavored. 

“Do you see him? Where could he be?” And then they look in their garbage can.

“Oh, no! The dog got him!” 

“We don’t know where he landed after coming back from the North Pole!” “Ooooh… about that… I saw him, and then I threw him in the washing machine.” 

“Maybe you could try roasting chestnuts on an open fire.” Do people even do that…? 

He squeaked when being poked. He’s made for the dog.

“Do you have anything you’d like to say about Christmas?” “Oh, let me begin. Number 1: Whoever picked up that peppermint stick on the street, that was mine. I want it back. Number 2: I know what everyone was thinking when that running of the reindeer happened, BUT THAT WAS NOT ME. THAT WAS FREDDIE. Number 3: JINGLES, YOU STILL OWE ME SIXTEEN BUCKS!” 

“Tell us what it’s like to have Christmas magic!” “You’re too young to know, kids.” 

Infinity War had nothing on the moment with Taylor touching Chippey. 

If it were me and my brothers, they would’ve tried to pull me and my finger out the way. 

You probably knew this was coming- “Mr. Claus, I don’t feel so good…”

Wait, so how were elves perfectly up and kicking BEFORE they got their magic? Is magic their lifeblood now? 

So they’re not even wearing, like, any hospital gowns or anything? 

That reminds me- when I was 6-7, I had Hello Kitty and the other Sanrio characters run a hospital/health department called the CPA. What did it stand for? I have no idea.

Yeah. The doctor says he’ll be better by the next morning. I feel it would’ve hit harder if he took a day or two off to recover. Then, that way, Taylor probably would’ve regret his choice more and had more time to reflect on it.

The background elves. THEY’RE ALL THE SAAAME! 

“I wonder if Christmas will still come.” People who celebrate it can do it without elves. 

Dear Santa, just kidding. I believe in you. All I had to do to regain belief was commit what was probably a crime against Chippey’s life. 

It’s pretty nice to see Santa in casual outfits.

He could’ve faked that letter, and Chippey could have believed it. (But if he did, his magic wouldn’t have come back… I AM QUESTIONING THE LORE OF A SPECIAL MADE TO SELL BEHAVIOR BAIT FOR KIDS.) 

“Chippey, I’m so sorry. It didn’t even feel like Christmas without you.” What about carrying Christmas in your heart like Santa said earlier? Also, like I said, if you celebrate it, you can do it without an elf in your house. 

This is a family of theater kids. 

Santa doesn’t go down a chimney here. He just kinda poofs in and out, which is honestly a clever way for him to save time. 

[heliads]

CONGRATS ON TWO YEARS *loud cheering from hundreds of fans*

Okay, so in honour of this I'm sending in a drabble idea. I know you don't like Damon that much from TVD (and you by no means have to write this if you don't want to) but today I was listening to my playlist and Taylor Swift's 'Haunted' started playing, and all I could think of was a Damon Salvatore x reader based on the song. It could be from Damon's perspective where the reader dies and he's like "come on come on don't leave me like this" and it's just filled with angst and memories and utter PAIN and how he deals with it. Or if you don't want that kind of suffering it could be about a breakup or something else! There can be fluff in there if you want, it's up to you but anyway, congrats again! ily and I'm sending hugs!

loving the hundreds of fans (and you and damon)

masterlist

Damon Salvatore was alone when he first heard that she was dead. He only found out through an impersonal phone call, the news read out in the same bland voice as if he were hearing about tax returns or changes in the recycling schedule, not something that could actually rend his world apart.

He was alone, and he picked up the phone without knowing who he’d be when he put it down. Y/N is dead, says the voice. Y/N L/N was killed on the outskirts of Mystic Falls. We don’t know who did it. And that was that.

You and I walk a fragile line

I have known it all this time

But I never thought I'd live to see it break

Damon is no stranger to dead bodies. Heaven knows he’s caused his fair share, but this one is different. Even though he’s long since passed over his aversion to blood, and only makes faces over gristly corpses in the hopes of getting Stefan or Caroline to react again, seeing Y/N lying there, still as bone, made him shudder from head to toe. 

It was unnatural. Perhaps that’s what had gotten to him. It was Y/N, in a way, and it was also not her at all. Damon doesn’t remember how he reacted at first, but apparently he looked like he might be inches from death, too, when the plain cloth was first pulled away from her face. Supposedly, he practically bit his wrist off trying to get his blood into her system, hoping against hope that it would work and she could still be alive. It didn’t, and his scars healed soon enough even if hers did not. 

It's getting dark and it's all too quiet

And I can't trust anything now

Damon was alone when he found out that Y/N was dead, and he is alone now too. He’s become a recluse, even more than usual. Death doesn’t affect him, it never has. When things seem as if they’ll hurt a little too much, Damon can flick off his humanity like he’s knocking over a house of cards, so much hard work gone in a moment. He doesn’t have to feel a thing, and it is perfect. 

Damon does not turn off his humanity when Y/N dies. Perhaps it’s because he already feels so numb that there’s no point in going to the trouble of turning it off anyways; he’s already there, already nothing. He tries, certainly, when the sun disappears beneath the horizon and a thousand thoughts hit him hard, but he never quite manages it. 

Oh, I'm holding my breath

Won't lose you again

Something's made your eyes go cold

No one knows why he’s still thinking about it. Damon has heard the others murmuring and whispering. He’s not deaf, even if he is blind to whatever the hell is going through his dead heart at the moment. He wasn’t like this when everyone else close to him died, so what is it about Y/N that would shake him up so bad?

Maybe it’s because he loved her. Damon can admit it freely now. Yes, he loved her. Yes, she was the one person in his one hundred and seventy years who actually made him feel worthwhile. Katherine was something, certainly, but she still made Damon walk away from every encounter with a feeling that he wasn’t enough, a particularly bad taste in his mouth. That could just be the corruption of his memories now that Damon knows her for the deeply flawed vampire that she is, but still. The point remains true. 

Damon did love Y/N, though. He has vivid memories of meeting her, of talking with her, of realizing that finally, he managed to find someone who looked past his ‘troubled murderer’ exterior and love him back. Sure, Damon is a troubled murderer. He’s rather proud of it, too. 

The difference was that Y/N didn’t try to change him, not like Stefan with his bunny kills or Elena with her relentless righteousness. Y/N saw every facet of him and still wanted what she saw. People like that don’t come around every day, and they certainly won’t now. 

Come on, come on, don't leave me like this

I thought I had you figured out

Something's gone terribly wrong

You're all I wanted

Damon tilts his head back, closing his eyes so he can stare unseeingly up at the ceiling. Y/N was human, so Damon doesn’t know if she’s somewhere on the Other Side watching him or not. At times, he wishes she was, so he can pretend they’re not separated by time and death and a thousand or things. Other days, he’s glad she isn’t around to watch him throw his life away because he just can’t figure out what to do with himself now that she’s gone. 

Today, he’s kind of hoping she’s there to guide him after all. Nobody’s in the house except him, so when Damon starts to speak, the only one who can hear him is Y/N. Probably. 

“I miss you, you know.”

Nobody answers, as expected. Damon keeps going anyway. 

“I didn’t think I would miss you this much. I know, I know, that’s a horrible thing to say to your ghost, but it’s true. I knew losing you would hurt, but this is different.”

This hurt is a rusty garrote against his throat, cleaving and cutting and brutalizing every part of him. Damon was expecting a clean stab through the heart, and this is far worse. 

“If you were here right now, you would tell me—”

Damon lapses into silence. What would she tell him? To pick himself up from the floor and actually do something with his interminably long life, maybe. Preferably something that didn’t involve locking himself away in his house until the lack of fresh air alone killed him. 

He doesn’t really want to do that, though. The problem with becoming a sunlight fearing hermit is that it’s actually quite enjoyable, and allows Damon to partake in some of his favorite hobbies at the moment, such as grievous self pity and midnight ramblings fuelled by despondence. 

“You would tell me to get over myself, maybe, but you’d also joke about being properly mourned. Remember that one time we were trying to shut down a pack of rival vampires and we stumbled upon them having this crazy funeral rite for one of their dead? I’m talking about ash throwing, dove sacrificing, all of that. You looked me straight in the eyes and said that if I didn’t mourn you with that much extravagance, you’d come back and haunt me yourself.”

Damon smiles fondly, a wave of similar memories crashing over him. The moment slips away soon enough, though, because he can’t think about good times in the past without also realizing that he won’t get to have any more with her in the future. 

“Well, I’m kind of hoping you’ll stay true to that promise, but if not, I’m doing my best. I just wish you were here, alright? Why can’t you be here?”

His voice takes on a tinge of irritation. He’s not mad at her, necessarily, more at the world for daring to take his Y/N away from him. After everything he’s done, this feels like some sort of karma, but it’s still unfair. Y/N doesn’t deserve to die just because of him. 

Come on, come on, don't leave me like this

I thought I had you figured out

Can't breathe whenever you're gone

Can't turn back now, I'm haunted

If anything, Damon should be the one roasting in some eternal fiery chasm. How many people has he killed or drained of blood over the years? He is a monster, pure and simple, but he’s never really minded it before. Y/N never minded it, and therefore he didn’t have to, either.

That’s what’s getting to him, after all. Every single thing Damon does reminds him of Y/N. How is he supposed to stop grieving all the damn time if he can’t get out of this cycle? All of a sudden, he feels restless, interminably so. Damon picks himself up, forcing himself out of the house for what might be the second or third time in countless weeks. 

It’s dark outside, perhaps late at night. It could be anywhere from just shy of ten o’clock to an hour or two past midnight. Y/N used to chide him for letting himself get so far out of the scope of normal human time. That was mainly when he’d put off necessary tasks until the literal last second, and then use his vampire speed to get them all done just in time. Maybe he did it because he actually was that lazy, or maybe it was because he liked seeing her vexed but happy laughter every time he managed to pull off the impossible yet again.

Damon stumbles through the dark, around trees and over sidewalks, until he finds himself in the middle of the street. Again, not entirely uncommon for him; somehow, Damon isn’t surprised that he’s turned to his favorite habit for irreparable emotional damage.

He wanders until he’s a decent way away from the town borders, where he can be sure of finding a car traveling by at some point but the Sheriff or somebody else won’t stumble upon him. Damon carefully lays himself down on the asphalt (do not think about how Y/N looked in her coffin, do not think about how he’s clasping his hands over his chest in the same way that the mortician arranged her fingers) and looks up to the sky.

This far from the city limits, the stars are bright. Damon doesn’t remember when he learned the constellations, only the familiar feeling in his stomach that it was something he was meant to hide, another useless tidbit of information that the leather jacket wearing, blood draining evil vampire brother everyone saw him as wouldn’t keep rattling around in his head.

Damon isn’t one to claim that he’s misunderstood, far from it. He’s spent a good deal of time carefully cultivating his image, pruning and plucking away the boughs that refuse to reveal him as rotten to the core. He doesn’t care about anyone. He’d sooner cause the apocalypse than trouble himself. It’s a shame that he’s gone and ruined all of that now. It’s a shame that he let someone grow so close to him that their death could decimate him like this.

Damon lets his eyes flicker closed. His hand twitches unconsciously by his side, reaching out for someone that isn’t going to embrace him back. He can hear vibrations through the pavement, and smiles quietly. At last, someone has come to take pity on him.

Without opening his eyes, Damon feels the heat of the car approaching him, hears the sudden screech of the tires as the driver finally notices a body lying across the lane that definitely shouldn’t be there. He’s played this part to perfection many times before, and lets his somehow animated corpse take over on instinct, a marionette dangling on strings.

The car door flies open, and the sound of footsteps scurries over to Damon. A voice, half choked on unshed, guilty tears, reaches his ears over a chorus of night breezes and bird calls.

“Are you alright? Did you– I didn’t hit you, right?”

Damon nearly opens his eyes, just to give this woman an incredulous look. Did she hit him? Her car is stopped practically the length of a city block away from him. Obviously there was no actual collision, or she would be able to feel the bone jerking shake of it as her Toyota Camry smashed him into the pavement.

Instead, he stays tranquil, and recklessly lets his voice trail out into the night air.

“Do you think she misses me?”

The woman again, baffled. “What? Are you okay?”

Damon sighs. “Y/N. Do you think she misses me? Do you think she even knows about me anymore? I mean, she’s gone, obviously, I’m not an idiot, but I want to pretend that she’s still out there somewhere.”

The woman seems confused. “Sir, is everything alright?”

At last, Damon lets his eyes fly open. “Ma’am, I’m lying in the middle of the road and talking about my feelings to a complete stranger. Obviously things are not as swell as they could be.”

The woman rears back, but it’s too late. Damon moves on autopilot, straightening to his feet in about half a second and reaching for her. He doesn’t even bother with the whole cat and mouse chase of letting the woman attempt to run to her car only for him to appear by her door. One of his hands finds her jaw, and tilts it away. He can practically hear her blood thudding through her veins, calling out to him. It would be so quick, so fast.

He slips a little, in the moment. When the woman’s face twists in horror, he swears that he’s not looking at some random victim but at Y/N. This woman is just about the right height, her eyes just about the same color. It startles him so much that he finds he can’t commit to the kill after all, even when he manages to blink himself out of it.

He will try to take away my pain

And he just might make me smile

But the whole time I'm wishing he was you instead

Damon lets the woman go. It’s just not worth it anymore. He shakes his head, then manages to pull himself together long enough to compel her into forgetting that he was ever there. The woman moves robotically to her car, starting it up again and driving down the road once more. Damon watches her go. She doesn’t look like Y/N anymore, but for a moment there–

It doesn’t matter. Y/N isn’t coming back, and she certainly won’t be stumbling upon him on a darkened freeway. Damon shambles back down the road, headed towards the town limits. He should be able to pull himself together, but he can’t. Nothing in this world will ever be the same. It’s theatrical and insufferable, but it’s true.

Oh, holding my breath

Won't see you again

Something keeps me holding on to nothing

Damon pauses for a moment by the sign welcoming him to Mystic Falls. He leans against the wooden sign, staring up at the sky. At some point during his brief interlude on the road, the skies have shifted from dark to dawn. The barest threads of light can be seen on the horizon, beginning to weave together a new morning. 

Damon isn’t ready for it. With every day that comes, he’s expected to come back to his normal charming self, but Damon isn’t even sure that vampire exists anymore. There’s only him, this half being, left broken in this body. He is numb and lost and gone, and if there was ever someone who could pull him out of a funk like this, she’s lying dead and buried in the cemetery somewhere to his north.

Can't breathe whenever you're gone

Can't go back, I'm haunted

For once, though, Damon lets himself picture it. The life he had with Y/N, the life he should have had. He closes his eyes again, and a thousand memories pour into his head. Sharing leather jackets. Running down dark alleys, both for their lives and for fun. Y/N tossing blood bags at the back of his head, teasing him about being a parasite for the umpteenth time. Watching movies that Y/N calls practically ancient, even though Damon was there to see them in theaters when they first came out. A thousand lives for the best two people to ever call themselves one, and it’s all gone now.

There is moving on, and there is the half state of decay in which Damon finds himself now. He isn’t healed, far from it, but he’s letting go. Damon opens his eyes, and watches the sun appear on the distant horizon. Somewhere, he swears someone is calling his name. He won’t be able to answer her for a while, if ever, but he’ll do his best to get back to her.

You and I walk a fragile line

I have known it all this time

Never ever thought I'd see it break

Never thought I'd see it

[brandstifter-sys]

Terror Time

@dukexietyweek Day 5 - Holiday

Word Count: 1346 (Ao3)

Pairing: Dukexiety

Rating: T

Warnings: smoking, mild violence, gore mention, sex mention, amputee!Remus, nonbinary!Virgil, neopronouns, accidental misgendering

Virgil loves Halloween but not haunted houses, not when ne's quick to punch anything that jumps out at nym. Remus, an actor on break, finds that out the fun way

---

Virgil loved Halloween, but hated haunted houses—sure ne was fine with the aesthetics and the actors dressing up, but jump scares were a no, not when ne had a strong fight reflex. That's why ne was outside near the exit while nis friends got scared inside. Ne was fine with leaning on a farm stand all alone with nis cigarettes and tumblr.

-

Remus was finally on break and he was itching to cause some serious damage to his lungs. If anyone had something to say, he had enough makeup to reasonably claim he was dead and undead to boot!

He crept out the back door, unbothered by the idea that someone would see the gash across his forehead and the fake bits of skull and fake blood. He didn't care about anyone questioning his prosthetic leg or the real scar over his eye. The jaundice and cloudy contact lenses might be the only things saving him from a confrontation. Unless his boss found him.

The cool night air felt like heaven compared to the scream shack and he was more than ready to go home, get comfy in his jammies, and watch some true crime documentaries or slasher movies. He would settle for a smoke in his tattered jeans and tee shirt. But then he realized he forgot his pack in the dressing room.

He really did not want to risk getting caught. But he was able to smell the distinct scent of his preferred brand wafting through the air. That's when he spotted a person in a patchwork hoodie across the way, ashing the last of a cigarette with nis headphones in.

Remus didn't think before jogging up to the person, or rather flinging himself across the lawn on his crutches. He was not exactly the best at controlling his impulses. The person might be his saving grace!

Virgil paused nis music when ne stomped out nis cigarette, not really paying attention to nis surroundings. Ne didn't notice the man right next to nym.

"Hey!"

Virgil jolted at the gory sight and punched the man in the face, knocking him into the fence and on his butt with a thud.

"Ow," Remus grumbled and rubbed his nose. It was bleeding. He glanced up at the person again and his heart skipped a beat. Oh no, ne was hot when ne was pissed, and ne could probably kill someone with nis fists. Remus would have volunteered to be nis punching bag!

"Holy fuck!" Virgil hissed as ne realized what ne did, what ne was trying to avoid doing. Ne knelt by zombie boy and frantically pulled out some tissues.

"Are you okay? I'm so sorry!" Virgil panicked and tried to stop the bleeding. Remus took over and giggled. This person had the craziest blue eyes that looked purple, thick lashes, and a cute pout. The perfect jaw and eyebrows framed nis face perfectly.

"I might be delirious, because there's no way someone as hot as you can really exist," Remus laughed, "Unless you're secretly biker Elizabeth Taylor, and I don't mean as in a costume."

"Nope. Do you want me to take you to the hospital?"

"Nah, that's a terrible idea for a first date! Especially on Mischief Night! And you don't even know my name!"

"You're Roman's twin, Remus, right?" Virgil asked, "He said you had a mustache and one leg."

"So you're one of his friends? And you aren't trying to run away? And you think I'm hot?"

"I didn't say that last part. Why did you sneak up on me?" Virgil said flatly, but ne wouldn't deny that Remus was hot, even if he looked like a corpse.

"I wanna bum a cig. And I wasn't sneaking! These arm legs are loud! You were just distracted, Scary Hot Friend of Asshole Brother."

"Virgil. It's Virgil," ne said and pulled out nis pack and a lighter. Remus graciously accepted the death torch and lit up, exhaling with a sigh.

"You should make it up to me by taking me back to the dressing room and then to a diner. You're the kind of guy who I can vibe with!" he said brightly.

"I punched you in the face and knocked you on your ass. And you only have one leg. Are you into douchebags like that?" Virgil scoffed.

"You're impulsive and you did a 180° from step-on-me scary to momma spider! You have my attention!" Remus laughed, "So you're not getting rid of me that easily!"

"'Momma spider?' Yeah Roman didn't lie about your creepy factor. Let's get you inside when you're done and then I can take you to a diner. But don't expect a motorcycle ride. I don't have one."

"That's okay! I tend to steer clear of them! They're how I lost my leg and got this scar!" Remus said and pointed to his eyebrow, "But I don't steer clear of hot men who can kick my ass!" He wiggled his eyebrows and winked at Virgil before taking a long drag.

"I'm nonbinary."

"You're still hot and could kick my ass!" Remus beamed, "And I want to use the right pronouns without bugging Roman."

"Ne/nym but I'm okay with he/him if it's not a safe situation."

"Ooh! So you're like the Secret of NIMH!" Remus giggled and leaned towards nym, "They're really cool pronouns!"

"Uh, thanks," Virgil said with a faint blush. Oh no, he was hot and respectful of nis pronouns—he was meeting all of Virgil's low standards!

"So did you want to come over to my place after the diner? Roman and the rest of those guys should be back there by then so you won't have to be alone with me," Remus asked and ashed his cigarette.

"And if I decide I want to be alone with you?"

"That will entail making out while watching horror movies. Think you can handle that much of me?" he teased and took another drag.

"I can just punch you in the face again."

"Spooky scary foreplay!" Remus giggled, "Yeah, you can handle me however you want!"

He took one last drag and put out his cigarette butt on the ground. He smiled up at Virgil and shimmied. It was unfairly cute.

"Let me make sure I didn't fuck up your crutches and get you back inside. The haunted house is closing in twenty, and I have to tell Roman I have to take care of a dead body and I'll catch up with him later."

"They're fine, I didn't land on them! Make sure to mention that it's a bloody battered crash body and it's starting to stink!" Remus laughed and grabbed nis arm, "Stay still so I can get up, since you're the reason I'm down here! Unless you can pick me up, you have my permission, but I might start swooning."

Virgil scoffed and scooped him up with ease. Remus was sure he was blushing under his makeup. This hottie could have hit him so much harder! And he was settled in nis arms like he weighed nothing.

"Do you want me to carry you back?" Virgil asked with a smirk. Ne could see that Remus was impressed.

"If you can do that I will get hard, so you had better not be tricking me!" Remus gawked and made sure his crutches were off the ground and out of the way.

"If that's your only complaint—" Virgil said and headed towards the haunted house, "—I guess I get to take a glimpse of a treat."

"I'm already looking at a treat! And I'm going on a date with nym!" Remus jeered and swooned in Virgil's arms.

"Yeah, you're Roman's brother alright," Virgil scoffed, "But at least you're hotter."

"And I look undead!"

"That's why," Virgil commented as the back door came into view. Remus squealed and tried to keep from wiggling.

"You might just have yourself an undead boyfriend by the end of the night!" he teased. Virgil smirked at him.

"I can live with that. If you're boyfriend material."

Remus was going to prove him right!

[growup-thatbeautiful]

can I ask a fic based on the song ‘I think I love you again’ by Aaron Taylor with Natasha Romanoff? =)

thanks for introducing me to such a beautiful song :)

send me a song and i’ll write a fic!

i think i love you again

the first time you fell in love with natasha. it was domestic, but it made sense. you two had been dating for a while, and it had only seemed logical that you would fall in love. you two had been what you can only describe as calmly in love. there had been no passionate fights, no public declarations of love in front of crowds, and definitely no airport concessions. it had been a relationship of connivence almost. you two were single and tired of it, so you started dating. you would cook each other meals and watch movies, and there was always missions to go on together, but it hadn’t been the whirlwind you expected. it was only natural. natasha was not a emotional or romantic person. she much more considered herself a realist. you thought that still meant she could be romantic, but you had kept that to yourself.

it ended in the same way. it had been a tired argument in the middle of a mission, no yelling involved. you two simply thought that it was best to take a break, hardly even a discussion.

it had hurt a lot more than you thought it would when you got back from the mission and moved out of her apartment. it hadn’t been crazy love, but love nonetheless. still something to be missed, so you did.

you got on okay without her for a brief amount of time. you could go out with your other friends, you could even go out with her friends and the avengers. you honestly thought that you were okay.

then, a mission went wrong. it wasn’t one that you were on, but natasha was leading it. there were rumors that she was hurt, some rumors that she wouldn’t make it back to the compound.

naturally, you were scared. some part of you along the way had started a train of thought that you always assumed you would end up with nat. sure, you were on a break, but she was always there for you when you needed her. you were positive of that. she was constant more than anyone else you knew, and she would never let you down.

she also can’t be your future if she doesn’t come back. there’s no chance for you to have your days in the sun if she’s cold and alone on a place, ready to meet you again as a corpse.

you shake the thoughts from your head. it’s better to think on the positive, you know that from experience, but you don’t think you could bear the pain if she doesn’t come back and you had been telling yourself that she would.

you try not to think of anything at all. you do all the things that are supposed to distract you and normally do distract you. you go on a run, make cookies, go get coffee, take long naps.

it works to a certain degree. you’re able to get natasha to the back of your mind, but occasionally thoughts will pop up and send you spiraling again.

you’re training in the gym when your phone rings. you got a text that says natasha’s jet is back. no information further about it.

you grab your phone and run as fast as you can go the landing bay, slipping through the halls and crashing down stairs.

it’s worth it to see natasha’s smile as you trip towards her. she’s leaning heavily on wanda, and you have to fight the urge to tell her to lay down. she was never good at taking care of herself.

you help wanda carry natasha into the medbay. once she’s there, wanda makes up some excuse to go somewhere else, sending a wink your way.

“i’m glad you were so excited to see me, angel,” says natasha weakly. she’s holding her side and her leg is laid out in front of her.

“of course. you owe me a date,” you say, slowly lifting her shirt out of the way to see a reasonable sized cut. natasha breathes a curse through her teeth as the material pulls away. she grabs your arm, and you don’t know weather it’s to stop your movement or because she wants something to hold on to. it’s proved to be the latter when she grips your hand in a death grip with pleading eyes. you brush her hair away from her face and kiss her on the forehead, telling her to go to sleep and that you’ll watch over while the doctor does her examination. natasha doesn’t trust doctors, but she trusts you.

the second time you fell in love with her, it was much more dramatic. not a whirlwind, because you couldn’t afford to go through a whirlwind romance with your profession. the second time, it was dramatic and love at first sight and heartfelt conversations.

natasha is getting better, against her better efforts. it’s in her nature not to let herself rest properly, but you’re there to make sure that she does.

her recovery lets you two connect agiain, something you still need. you talk about important things and things that don’t matter at all. you’re reminded of why you feel in love with her the first time, her charm and humor.

she’s sitting next to you, and it feels right. you don’t understand why it never felt like this before. maybe because you hadn’t known what it was like to miss her. maybe because you now knew what it was like to be crazily in love with her. whatever it was, you were glad. everything was in its place in a way it had never been before.

“i think taking time off was the best thing we ever did,” you say.

“ouch?” natasha replies, confusion written across her face. “i thought you were happy to be back together.”

“i am,” you’re quick to say. “i just didn’t realize how important to me you were. how important to me you still are.”

“don’t go getting all romantic on me now.”

“i might have to,” you apologize. “i think now that you’re mine again i don’t want to lose you. you’ve stolen my heart, all of it, and you’re the one i want to be with.”

“that’s some sentimental shit,” says natasha. you don’t expect her to say more. she surprises you. “on the mission, i kept thinking that the last things i said to you would be something other than i love you. they would be inconsequential and flat because i was scared of showing you anything real. what we used to have wasn’t special. it was something most people can find, but that’s not who we are. now, we have something uniquely us. i guess it only took us falling in love again to get here.”

[walkerwords]

“To Feel Better” Daryl Dixon x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: AMC

Request from Anonymous: for your requests i saw a prompt where it was person A finding excuses to hold person B's hand such as my hands are cold will you warm them for me I think that would be cute with Daryl. 

Word Count: 1859

Warning: Swearing

Song I Wrote To: “Cardigan” by Taylor Swift

Note: I love fluff requests yall! This one is set during the time our survivors are looking for shelter after the fall of the farm!

---------

When the farm fell, nobody knew what they were doing. 

Herschel and Rick were doing their best to keep some sort of order within the group, but they could only do so much once the cold set in and the food became more scarce. Then after losing some people during the invasion of Walkers and Shane’s attempt at a coup, pieces felt as if they were being broken off.

Andrea had been someone who you trusted wholeheartedly. You had been with her and her sister, Amy, since the beginning. Andrea had protected you both, but in the end it had been Amy who befell the fate of the new world. Her death still followed you around and you knew that it had haunted her sister for a while as well. If anything, it had made Andrea harder and more resilient. Still, she kept her eyes on you and you knew that if it came down to it, you would protect her with everything you had. That remained true until you saw her go down on the farm and never saw her reemerge from the horde as Daryl pulled you on to the back of his bike and took off down the dirt path. 

Now it was only a matter of time before someone else was lost. With the larger herds moving North all the time, the group had to keep moving and there wasn’t any time to rest for more than a couple of days. With Lori being pregnant, it was definitely causing more issues. You were exhausted, Shane was dead, Rick was keeping something a secret, and Carl was growing up before your eyes. It was too much, too fast. 

Winter was coming and going, the weather never staying the same in the South. You had been used to that your entire life, but without constant shelter or warm meals, every time the temperature dropped even a fraction, stress levels skyrocketed within the group and it was starting to get to you. Daryl, someone you had grown closer to since the farm, had tried to keep your spirits up the best he could, but there was only so much he could do. 

It was late one night when you found yourself alone on watch. Rick and Maggie had found a house that was far enough from the road with working locks and insulated enough to offer warmth. Nobody dared light a fire in case the Living decided to poke around, but it was better than sleeping in another field with one eye open. 

You were rubbing a stray bullet between your fingers as you saw on a bench just in front of the house when Daryl approached, the gun that housed said bullet was in your other hand. “I got watch,” he said, taking a seat next to you. 

“I’m fine,” you said, keeping your eyes on the dark wall of trees before you. 

“Ya need sleep,” he argued, but you remained still.

“I said, I’m fine,” you repeated. 

“Ya, that’s what ya always say,” he said. It was silent then as he sat next to you. Daryl knew when not to push you and this was definitely one of those times. If there was one person who could sit in complete silence and say more with just their body language it was you and Daryl appreciated that after hours of constant noise from the rest of the group. 

It was after a while that Daryl finally realized what you kept playing with in your hand. He recognized it as a gun that was once shoved in his face when he had first arrived at the quarry with Merle. “That Walsh’s gun?” he asked, nodding his head toward the pistol. You nodded, turning over the weapon in your hand. He wasn’t sure where you had found it, but he could tell that you had cleaned it up. “You thinkin’ about him?” 

“I don’t know what happened,” you finally said. “He was so strong…”

“Even the most level-headed people can get corrupted by this world,” Daryl said and you thought it was one of the most profound things he had ever said. Then again, you figured that Daryl was incredibly bright and he just didn’t let people see that side of him. 

“I thought he’d be one of the last people standing,” you admitted. 

“Didn’t realize you were that close,” Daryl said with a frown. 

“He saved my life,” you said with a shrug, remembering back to all the times Shane had pulled a Walker off of you when you were distracted. “He always looked out for Amy, too. Look, he wasn’t a great man, I know that, but I owed him enough. I was hoping he’d make it at least a few more years.”

“I get that,” Daryl said with a sigh, running a hand through his messy hair. You had noticed that it was getting longer, especially on the sides. 

“Sorry,” you said, “I know you hated him.” 

“I didn’t trust him,” Daryl clarified. 

“Fair enough.” 

You sat back into silence then. Your ears were scanning for the familiar groans of the Dead or the subtle footprints of the Living, but so far, nothing had approached the newest nest for the group. You were definitely missing the RV on the more treacherous nights.

Daryl was quiet before he looked over at you. You could see his face out of the corner of your eye, but you tried your hardest to ignore him. You knew Daryl had been looking out for you for a while. Or rather he had been watching you and you knew he was worried, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take any extra steps towards him. No matter how much you wanted it. 

“You know,” you began, breaking the silence, “I wanted to study old bones and all that.” 

“So, an anthropologist?” Daryl said. You looked over at him with shock on your face and he clocked it immediately. “What, I watched the History Channel,” he defended, causing you to laugh. 

“Yeah, Daryl, just like that,” you said. “I wanted to know how humanity began, but I’m only seeing what we’ve become,” you said as you stared at a Walker corpse that Maggie had downed a few hours before. 

Your hand began to twitch then, a nervous habit you had developed as a teenager. It always exposed everything that you were too afraid to say. There was something about the way your body always knew what was wrong before your mind did. You figured it was something to do with the survival instincts that had kicked in the night they dropped fire on Atlanta and other major cities. 

Daryl noticed your hand instantly. “You’re doing it again,” he said quietly. 

“Nervous habit,” you said, clenching your fist, trying to quiet your nerves. “It used to drive my mom crazy.”

“You don’t talk about her anymore,” Daryl noticed. Turning to look at him, you furrowed your brow. “It’s just, ya used to talk about her at the quarry with Amy and Andrea a lot,” he said with a shrug. 

“Guess I haven’t been in the mood to be sentimental lately,” you said. 

“I get that,” he said as he continued to watch the slight tremor in your palms. “My mom died before all this,” he said  and you were surprised to hear him say anything about his family. Besides Merle, Daryl never mentioned anything about his past. At least, not to you. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. 

“I’m just glad ya know, that she didn’t have to see all this shit,” he said and you knew what he was talking about. In an odd way, anyone who had died before the outbreak lucked out. Nobody deserved to see the new horrors of the world and nobody deserved to be fighting tooth and nail just to survive. Lifting your head to the sky, you watched as a single star shot across the darkness before it disappeared again in the plethora of stars and scattered moonlight. 

“Odd, isn’t it?” you asked. 

“What?” 

“That because the world is dark, we finally see the stars. Living in cities always hid them,” you said with a sigh. 

“Yeah,” Daryl said, following your gaze. 

“ ‘Moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars’,” you quoted with ease.

“Tolkien, huh?” Daryl said, recognizing the words. 

“Look at you,” you teased and Daryl rolled his eyes. 

“I read,” Daryl defended and you raised your hands in surrender. The movement then sparked something in Daryl as he caught your hand in his and held it gently. Your hands stilled from the warmth and firm grip of the archer’s hands. You were sitting in silence as he began to rub his thumbs along the nerves and muscles in your hands. 

Daryl was silent as he caressed your hand, taking his time to soothe your anxieties away. “You are gonna be okay,” he whispered, his focus on his task. 

“How do you know?” you whispered back. 

“Because ya ain’t one to let this world beat ya,” Daryl said simply. You took a minute for that to sink in and you knew that he was right. If anything, you were not going to give up so that the dying world took you with it. You knew that death was inevitable, but you also knew that you had come too far already to start to give up now. “Do you know the story of the man who fought off three bears and lived?” Daryl asked suddenly. 

Looking over at him, you raised your brows. “What?” Daryl nodded. 

“Yeah, the crazy son of a bitch jumped into a bear enclosure at a zoo to test if he could survive the worst possible thing,” he said. “Fought them all off with his hands and a tree branch. Nobody thought a person could do that and he did. Only came out of there with a broken hand.” 

“Is there a moral to this story?” you asked. Daryl turned your hand over in his, tracing the lines on your palm. 

“Don’t try to fight bears unless you’re high on pretty hardcore shit because he had to have been, right?” Daryl said easily and you couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of your chest. Daryl gave you a smile then and you realized what he was doing. 

“Was that story even true?” you asked. 

“Nah,” Daryl said. “Does it matter, though?” 

“Not at all,” you whispered, wrapping your other hand around the joined ones between you. Moving closer to him, you leaned into him, feeling his body heat. “Thanks.” 

Daryl gently lifted your hand to his face and pressed a kiss to the back of it in a very rare act of tenderness. His lips lingered on your skin for just a second before relaxing further into you.

“Anytime,” he murmured as you sank into comfortable silence and watched for the enemy that was sure enough to break through your newfound bubble of peace. However, you knew that when that happened, the man by your side would be the one to jump into the fray and wrestle with a few bears of his own. 

TAGS: @thanossexual​ @felicisimor​ @moonstuffsteve​ @lucillethings​ @stark-dreams​ 

[det-loki]

poison & wine pt. eight

You give me love, give me love Until it breaks my back

warnings: angst, blood mention

pairing: detective loki x fem reader

word count: 2,162

A/N: close to the end! sorry for the delay

 1  2  3  4  5  6  7 ⌽

The car ride over to Bob Taylor’s house was uncomfortably silent. David’s hands gripped the steering wheel till his knuckles were white, jaw clenched as he stared ahead. 

“When are we going to talk about everything? We can’t keep running on autopilot.” You broke the silence as Loki’s jaw ticked, his hands tightening around the wheel. 

“Let’s just focus on this case, okay?” You hated when he did this. He silenced himself, avoiding everything until it simmered over, emotions exploding out of control. You remained silent, deciding it was better to not add more fuel to the fire. 

You arrived at the house which was covered with various cars and forensic teams. You got out of the car quickly, tugging your coat tighter as the wind chilled through you, following David as he talked to Rich, who was a part of the forensics team and running point on the scene. 

The brown dying grass crunched under your boot clad feet as you walked up to a marked off area in the yard, two analysts working to uncover two kid sized department store mannequins that had been buried with their heads caved in from the frozen ground. 

Rich looked at Loki as he spoke, “I just talked to our lab guys, and they told me that all the blood that we sampled from the plastic containers- pig’s blood.” 

You moved from the yard to inside in the kitchen, mazes still littered across the walls. Multiple people were inside the home, taking pictures of evidence and booking it. Listening to Rich continue to speak, “It’s like he’s play-acting. I mean, case in point. Except for the few items I.D.’d by the Dovers and the Birches, all the kids’ clothes that we found still had the tags on them. And that maze book that we found, he made it. Photocopies, pictures from this book that we found in the attic. Ex-F.B.I. agent wrote that.” You wondered who would go through the trouble of doing all that, but you had to remind yourself of the case you were dealing with. Nothing was ‘textbook.’

You looked down at the red and black book in the evidence bag as Loki read the title out loud, fingers grazing over the cover through the plastic of the bag, eyebrows furrowed, ‘Finding The Invisible Man.’ 

“Yeah, it’s about a theoretical suspect that he believed was responsible for a bunch of child abductions. It’s totally discredited, I guess, but I read some of it.” Rich explained to both you and Loki as you rocked on the balls of your feet. 

Loki cut Rich off, “Taylor- Taylor was abducted when he was a kid. He ran away after three weeks. And the capture drugged him on some sort of LSD/ketamine cocktail.” When you and Loki learned of the use of the ketamine cocktail, your eyes darted to each other, a silent understanding between the two of you. Broken, forever; everything connected in this shit town you called home. Loki continued speaking, “He never remembered. They never caught the guy.”

“Okay, so...he read the book and decided he was taken by the invisible man. Now he’s doing his best imitation, right?” 

Rich stared at Loki, waiting for a response, “Yeah, he was doing his best imitation. He killed himself last night.” Loki turned away, walking away from you and Rich, stopping in the doorway to study the mazes on the wall as Rich turned to him, “How did he do that? I thought he was in custody.”

“It’s a long story.” Your response was short, voice cracking with exhaustion, details weren’t needed. Your hands were still stained with red, you constantly felt the need to scrub them raw under hot water until they bled. The urge hit you again last night at home in the shower, sending you into a crying mess on the shower floor, scaring David when he heard your sobs through the door. He was worried about you. And himself, you two were getting bad again, the feeling was familiar, similar to how you felt after the funeral. Indescribable pain. 

Loki turned to you, asking for the map Taylor drew as he stepped closer in your direction. You take it out of your coat pocket with a gloved hand, handing it to David who snatches it out of your hand. He pointed to it aggressively as he spoke to Rich, “Hey, Taylor drew this. It’s a map to the bodies. It’s a map to the bodies and we found the same design on a pendant that we pulled off that corpse the other day. There’s a connection, okay?” Loki spoke with growing intensity as Rich looked at him dumbfounded, obviously lost with Loki’s explanation. 

“The connection is that it’s the last maze in the book.” Loki scoffed at Rich, upset with him for not understanding the point he was trying to make. Rich continued, “I did it. It’s unsolvable. There’s no way out. Your corpse is another wannabe who read the book.” Loki had spent hours trying to find a way out of the maze, each failure feeling more and more doomed. 

Loki stormed away from him, “What are you saying to me, Rich? What are you saying to me? What are you saying? That-that this guy is a fake? You’re saying the girls are still out there somewhere?” Here was the one big difference between you and Loki. You had hope the girls were still alive, maybe you were ignorant, but you weren’t ready to accept the fact that two little girls were dead. Loki was coming to terms with the fact that they might be dead, his hope was dying out. Loki’s voice rose, your fingers digging into your palm as he spoke, “How did Bob Taylor get those clothes? How did-how did the parents positively I.D those clothes?!” At this point, Loki was yelling at Rich, looking at him expectantly. 

“That I can’t reconcile.” He walked past you and then Loki as Loki snaps at him, “You can’t reconcile that?”

“Just keep knockin’ on doors, lookin’ in windows.” At that, Rich disappeared through the doorway. 

Loki stood across from you, hand trailing through his hair, head snapping in your direction as you spoke, “Loki, maybe he’s right. The girls might be out there somewhere, we-” You stopped talking as Loki pulled out his notepad, flipping through pages quickly, obviously looking for something in particular. He flips to a page and stops, “The window.” That’s all you needed to hear before running to the car.

The car stopped abruptly in front of the Dovers, sending you lurching forward against the dashboard, Loki’s door already open, feet on the ground and running.  You followed him quickly, approaching the back of the house, staring up at the second story window that Grace Dover had said that had been opened the other night. Loki looked around before jumping the chain-link fence, crouching down under the window, looking for footprints or anything disturbed. He takes a pen out of his front coat pocket, balancing it in his fingers as he reaches into the bushes, pulling out a pink sock teetering on the pen. The same sock Keller positively I.D.’d as Anna’s. 

You were out of breath as you ran to the car for an evidence bag, your body too tired for the physical exertion. As you reach inside the glove compartment, your phone buzzes in your pocket. Answering it, your stomach dropped as Detective Chemelinski’s voice spoke in your ear. Joy Birch had been found. 

The hospital was cold as you entered, a chill running through your body, but not from the chill of the air. You hated hospitals. The elevator dings as you and Loki arrived the pediatric ward, doors sliding open and you wanted to puke, your throat raw and scratchy. It looked the exact same as it did when your little girl died here, same beige paint on the walls, the same as the rest of the hospital, only difference being the sickly bright yellow sun painted on the walls. The smell of antiseptic burned your nose, the fluorescent lights already starting a headache to pound in your skull. You pushed your emotions down as Loki exited the elevator, you trailing after him through the halls. 

“I said nobody’s allowed in that room but her family.” Loki barked orders to officers as you rounded the corner. Keller Dover came into view, David yelling out for him as he took off down the hall away from you. “Where you goin’?  

You stopped in front of Grace, “Where is he going?” She only shook her head, she had no idea. You took off running, multiple officers trailing you as bystanders stared at the scene unfolding in front of them. 

You and Loki took off down the hall after him, telling officers to not let him go. Bolting outside you see Keller’s truck slam over the parking lot median and on the highway, speeding down it. Loki and you turn back, sprinting for the car to follow him, your breaths coming out in clouds in front of you in the cold air. 

The tires screeched as Loki sped through the wet pavement of the parking lot; Loki pulled onto the highway, muttering to himself, “I got you now, fucker. I know where you’re goin’.”

The car pulled aggressively into the driveway of the old apartment building, Keller’s truck nowhere to be found. Loki slammed his hand down onto the steering wheel, “Fuck!” You jumped slightly at his outburst, adrenaline pumping through your views despite the feeling of pain in your entire body. He exited the car quickly, you following, your boots splashing through the muddy puddles as you advanced toward the boarded up building slowly.  

Above you, you could hear muffled screams, you and Loki reach for your guns as you near the door. Loki kicks the door open with a bang, entering the building with his gun drawn. Your heart was in your throat as you crept through the first floor, heading up the stairs towards the sound of muffles screams and banging. Your pulse was racing and your vision was blurry, exhaustion nipping at your heels every step you took, threatening to take you down. 

The screaming got louder as you got to the top of the stairs, wailing piercing the air. Your boots creak along the floorboards, you approach the room the screaming is coming from and the air escapes your lungs.

You see a boarded up area, the boards vibrated as whoever was behind it banged against it. You stood back, letting Loki enter as you reached for your radio and called for backup. Loki pries at the wood, it doesn’t budge at all, mocking you. The wailing continues, Loki calls out to the person, telling them to hold on. You clip your radio back onto your jeans and turn to look for anything to pry off the wood, not wanting to waste time by running back down to the car. 

You see a crowbar lying against a wall, and you thank god as you grab it, the metal heavy in your hand. Loki grabs the crowbar from you and begins to work his way through the wood. The minutes seem to drag by, each second longer than the last.

“Hey, just hold on for us in there okay?” You talk through the wall as Loki finally gets the panel off revealing a sight that shook you to your core. 

Alex Jones. Badly burned, bruised, bloody and beaten. He looked terrified, eyes wild with panic, whimpering in pain as he coward away from your gawking stares. 

You stood next to Loki as Alex was taken away by EMS, O’Malley stood in front of you, “Someone needs to notify the aunt and we need to get an idea of where Keller is.”

You spoke up next to Loki, “I’ll tell the aunt.” Loki looked at you with a confused expression as O’Mallley nodded and walked away. 

“I want to be the one to tell her, I’ll be fine, Loke.” You could tell by his expression that he was unsure about you going alone.

“Babe, if this is some karma thing for her-” It wasn’t. At least you didn’t think it was. Your little girl couldn’t be saved. You accepted that fact even if it tore your heart apart, forcing you to move on. 

You interrupted Loki, not allowing him to finish his sentence, “Don’t. It’s not. Find Keller, I’ll tell Holly. I'll text you, alright?”

Loki nodded curtly as he handed you the car keys, he’d get a car from the station, an uneasy look spread across his face. He didn’t have a good feeling about letting you go alone, but he knew better than to hold you back from doing your job. 

Little did he know that he would regret letting you go in alone more than words could describe.

tag list:  @lexie-wayland @whew-oh-em-gee @winterlavenderskysworld​ @buck-this-nasty @heeyirenee @pinkpunkdynamite @eleventhdoctorsangel @multiyfandomgirl40 @thanossexual​ @speedybonkuniversityzine​ @booklove103​ @curly-q3 @msfarr88​ @glittrguts​ @space-helen 

[theprologues]

SUBMISSION - Grammys performance symbolism, part two

So, with those reservations safely out of the way, and a warning to readers NOT to hurt themselves by getting their hopes up again … 

What aspects of Taylor’s Grammy’s performance made me think there might be light at the end of the tunnel for Kaylor? 

First, Taylor’s blue and gold performance dress. “Deep blue but you painted me golden” is a line from Dancing With Our Hands Tied, a song that is widely assumed to be about the night of Kissgate. It’s a song where Taylor talks about how miserable (“deep blue”) she was after the collapse of her relationship with Diana and her public reputation in 2013. She describes how her new lover, Karlie, brought her back to life and lit her up with the glow of a new, true love. She painted her golden. But then they were caught in an intimate moment at Kissgate, and Taylor panicked. Her fears and anxieties threatened to drown her, and though she and her new lover tried to dance through the catastrophe, they eventually came to realize they were doing so with their hands tied. They had no hope of swimming to the surface together and breaking free. They could only have done so if Taylor had stood firm and owned their love in the moment, instead of setting in motion the bearding contracts that would change everything. (This is what she means when she says that “if I could dance with you again”, she would “kiss” and “hold” her lover, instead of presumably backing away. If she could do the moment over, she would claim Karlie as her lover, and hold her hand for the world to see, through hell or high water.) 

Though it’s a depressing motif in DWOHT, Taylor has, interestingly, returned to this imagery of a golden tie several times in other songs, painting it in a much more positive light. Most recently, the Willow music video explores this, visually representing the “single thread of gold that tied me to you” which Taylor sings about in Invisible String. Both IS and Willow are happy songs, which describe their lovers as being tied together by fate. “Wherever you go, I’ll follow,” Taylor sings in Willow. In DWOHT, the lovers followed each other to a place of deepest blue. The bottom of the ocean, under the waves, where they couldn’t breathe. In Willow they follow each other to freedom.

That freedom is represented in the Willow music video by the open cabin door the lovers step through at the end of the video. Taylor incorporates this door into the Willow section of her Grammy’s performance, performing first in the open doorway and then stepping through it to perform with her band out in the open. 

But returning to the blue and gold dress. This is not only a very Karlie motif which keeps recurring in her art (often to postitve effect). It’s also a representation of Taylor finding happiness WITHIN the closet. It’s talking about how her partner’s love helps her to bear the depression being in the closet, and fearing exposure, causes her. The fact that Taylor chooses to wear this dress throughout her performance, with no costume changes, suggests a) she is still in the closet, and b) she is still with Karlie, and still considers her love to be such a lifeline. 

If Toe was real and Taylor was happy with him, she could have chosen to wear an all-gold dress for the occasion. If Kaylor was over and she had decided to return to the closet, she could have communicated that by wearing all blue. If Kaylor was over and so far in the past she had moved on with someone new, there was no need to evoke the motif at all. She could simply have laid claim to another color, or worn another prairie type dress to fit the aesthetic. And yet, she didn’t. Why not, if not to communicate what I said above? 

What else is worth considering, in Taylor’s medley? Well, there’s the cabin setting. Taylor and Karlie famously took a trip to Big Sur forest and stayed in a cabin together in 2014, where Karlie was the first person to hear 1989 in full. They took many photos on the trip, including one captioned with “on the way home” (a lyric from You Are In Love, which talks about hearing love in the silence) and one of the two of them looking up at a fallen tree. A VERY similar looking tree appears in the Cardigan music video, and the slanted, moss-covered roof Taylor opens the medley lying on also looks a lot like this tree. Again, curious that she would call back to this if she and Karlie have separated.

Moving on. Taylor opens the medley singing on the roof, looking straight up into the camera. When we pull back we see the stage around set to that of a starry night. Taylor is thus cast as the romantic, the star-gazer. She also calls back to another lyric Kaylors have previously tied to Karlie - “up on the roof with a schoolgirl crush”. It’s been repeatedly tied to Karlie and Taylor’s attendance at the Victoria Secret show after-party. Again, why evoke imagery so tied to the early, happy days of this relationship? 

We then move through a progression of events that sees her hiding inside with friends, before eventually stepping out into the light. That all reads like a visual interpretation of her relationship with Karlie, from her early loneliness and lovestruck dreaming, to the happiness she finds within her little hideaway, to her eventual decision to step out of it and claim her lover. The medley ends on a repetition of “that’s my man”, seemingly hinting that Taylor’s freedom is tied up in her ability to finally say those words. 

What else? Well, there are the Ivy allusions. Taylor’s cabin covered in greenery can’t help but evoke the lyrics of Ivy - “my house of stone, your ivy grows, and now I’m covered in you”. Ivy is widely interpreted as a sapphic song about two women finding love despite their commitments to men. Another line in the song “he’s in the room, your opal eyes are all I wish to see, he wants what’s only yours” is alluded to in Taylor’s choice of opal jewelry on the night. What a weird thing to draw attention to, if you’re not secretly in love with a woman while parading a beard around in public. We’re also told in the song that “he” (possibly the same man, possibly another) wants to burn the house of the Ivy lovers down. Jerk just so happened to announce the baby’s birth on this night, in what felt like an attempt to undermine Taylor’s joy. Hmm. Curious. 

You know what else is curious? Taylor’s choice of outfit for the Grammys red carpet. Not only is the floral dress very reminiscent of a floral ensemble Karlie wore to cover a June (pride month) issue of Spanish Vogue. (Cover subtitled, “flowers of change”.) It’s also by the designer Oscar de la Renta. Taylor and Karlie famously attended one of his shows together early on in their relationship. They sat in the front row looking very cozy, while Taylor refused to answer questions about why she was there and reportedly giggled “my publicist will be mad at me”. Hmm.

Taylor has also worn Oscar de la Renta on numerous occasions while out with Karlie, including most famously at the Met Gala. That iconic pale pink gown that she was buried in the Look What You Made Me Do music video? That was an Oscar de la Renta. There are many interpretations of the scene in the video, but it’s worth noting that Taylor is buried alive in it (which could be interpreted as a metaphor for being closeted) and that in a video all about her various revenge fantasies, she depicts herself crawling back up out of this grave. She views coming back to life and walking away from the flaming wreckage of her past with Big Machine as the ultimate revenge. At the end of the video she clips her own wings while all the past iterations of her argue amongst themselves. This would seem to suggest that she can defeat her enemies but she can’t defeat herself, because she can’t outrun her past, and until then she will always be doomed to self-sabotage. Nevertheless, this Taylor (lurking in the background bedecked in peaced-out palm tree print) is in a much better position than the Taylor who opened the video as a zombie corpse. She’s on the surface and has some hope of freedome, at last. This is a theme we see carried through in the following video, where Taylor goes one-on-one against herself and eventually breaks free.

Long story short? Taylor wearing such a floral, literally blooming dress from THIS designer, of all people, suggests she may finally be about to rise again. The aborted coming out apparently planned for the Lover era (and thus seeded during the Rep era) may finally be a go? 

Again, I’m very reluctant to get people’s hopes up here. But it’s hard to look at this dress and not think of that June (Pride month) floral magazine cover. Or of the Spade riddle, “Why worry? She blooms in June.” Or of the fact that Taylor’s stunts are often loudest before the end. She acknowledged Calvin and hugged him at an awards show before he was booted out of the narrative and Tom H appeared to replace him. (Something like ten days or so after the “split”, if I remember right?) And the inconsistencies of the Toe timeline speak for themselves. There was speculation - unpopular though it was - among Kaylors in the Rep era that guessed Taylor wouldn’t come out until 2021 / 2022. It seemed a world away at the time but who knows? Maybe this was always the plan. Maybe this is all “part of the fucking story”, even the parts that seem ugly or counterproductive. A lot can change in a couple of months in Hollywood, and with Taylor in particular. By June, it’s possible we COULD be looking at a vastly different landscape. Maybe this was one last hurrah for the Toes. Many of them are just harmless fans taking Taylor at her word, after all. 

Only time will tell, and I don’t blame Kaylors for checking out. This isn’t healthy, especially for those of us who are gay ourselves, and can’t help but feel a personal connection to Taylor’s journey out of the closet. We know what a big deal it would be. But for those who still want to hope … It’s just possible Taylor has a plan, and this is the dark night before the dawn. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Pro: I added the photos and the bolded parts. Love symbolism. This was truly a spectacular performance. Awesome submission anon!!