#if this DOES turn into an editing war I'll MAYBE drop the name?

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Oh shit I might be about to get in a wikiwar with someone who doesn't know what they're talking about with the funniest fucking name I dunno if I'll post publically or not lmao

[babybluebex]

okay but... high school sweethearts with grunauer but he promises if he survives the war he's coming back to marry you (and he does 😭)

oh my GOD baby boy peter grunauer 😭 i got carried away, per usual

The train whistled, signaling its eminent departure, and Peter turned back to look at you with wetness in his big brown eyes. He had been crying almost nonstop ever since he had gotten the draft letter; your Pete always did wear his heart on his sleeve. "I don't wanna go," he told you, grappling to grab your hand. "What-What if I flunk the eye test and they have to send me home?"

"Pete, please," you sighed. "You know you have to go."

"I know," Peter said softly. "I know..."

"I'll be right here, waiting for you to come back," you told him, and you reached up and righted the little cap he wore over his shorn curls. Your tears caught in your throat, and you uttered "Waiting for you to come home to me."

"What if I..." Peter began, dropping his eyes to look at your intertwined fingers. "What if I don't make it home?"

"You will," you told him firmly. The image of him got all wishy-washy as your eyes brimmed with tears, and you dragged him into a tight embrace. He smelled just like he always did, nice cologne and the sweet tang of his own body, but you took a deep breath of him. Who knew when the next time you'd see him was? Who knew if you'd ever see him again?

"Doll, you know," Peter started. His hands touched your back as he held you, his chin settling on your head, and he pressed a kiss into your victory-rolled hair. You had only gotten all dolled up to take one last photograph with Peter before he was shipped off, and the film was stuck in a tiny plastic container in your purse. "You know I ain't coming home."

"Don't say that," you sniffled. "Pete, don't you dare—"

"It's easier, y'know," Peter said. "If you pretend like I'm a lost cause. It won't hurt when it happens, and, if I do come home, it'll be a big surprise."

"You're not a lost cause," you told him. "Stop it. Just let me think for five minutes that I'll see you again. That I'll get to hold you and kiss you—"

The train whistled again, and Peter was quick to cup your cheek with his shaking hand and kiss you. His lips were soft against yours as he held you tight and kissed you, and he only broke the kiss with a heavy sigh. "I'm gonna marry you, doll," he said urgently; your time had come to an end. "When I get home, I'm marryin' you. How about that? Now I've gotta come home."

"You'd better," you sniffled, and you kissed him quickly again before he stepped away, back onto the train. "You'd better come back to me, Peter Grunauer, you hear me?"

"I hear you," Peter said. "Loud and clear, Mrs. Grunauer. I love—" The train blowing its final whistle drowned him out, and the chugging and clanking of the train only served to break your heart further. But you watched his lips form the word, you watched his big eyes as the door to the train car was closed, and you watched him as he pressed himself against a window to wave goodbye as the train departed. You couldn't watch anymore, though.

-

Two years. You got weekly letters from Peter for two years. Most of them had been heavily censored, his lead pencil marked out with black ink. No names, no destinations, not even what time of day he was writing the letter. Thankfully, the important parts, the parts about him loving you and coming home, persisted through the edits.

And then, one day in May, two years since he left, no letter came. Peter never missed a letter, not once. You kept every single one in a box under your bed, and you rifled through them as you tried to find any reason why he would miss a letter, other than the obvious. Maybe that letter had been too full of redacted material and the US Army hadn't even bothered to send the scrap along. That was your theory.

And then the next week came along, with no letter. And the week after that. And the week after that.

No word from Peter for four weeks, and you tried to keep your spirits up. He promised you he was coming home. He promised you that he would marry you. Peter made good on every promise he had ever made, all the way back to high school.

You had first met when you were 15 years old, when Peter asked to borrow a pencil in math class. He was handsome, in the boyish sort of way that he always had been— big brown eyes and freckled cheeks and plush pink lips— and you had fallen for him immediately. He was good to you, kind and funny and loving, and you had been together ever since then. And he had promised time and time again that he was going to marry you. "Just gotta get enough money for a ring," he always said with his charming smile. "And then I'm marrying you."

Then, the damn war. The damn draft.

You got a letter from the Army five weeks after Peter's last letter. It stated that Peter's paratrooper squad was shot down and that they had been unable to locate him, and to assume that he was either deceased or missing in action. You held the letter to your chest and collapsed in the doorway, heaving sobs from the very pit of your stomach. The letter was so clinical, no room for emotion, and it hurt. You wanted to destroy it, to tear it up or throw it into the fireplace, but you needed it. It was your last link to Peter.

You reread his letters every night. You looked forward to it, to mourning your husband-to-be. Eventually, you stopped calling him that and started calling him what he was: he was your husband, through and through. Reading his letters made it feel like he was there with you, and you needed the encouragement to get through the day. Your friends gave condolences and your parents hugged you when you cried, but nothing fixed your heartache like reading his letters.

The wound felt like it would never heal. Until a year later.

A knock came at your door just as you were setting down dinner for your parents, and you wiped your hands on your apron. "I'll get it," you told them. "Start eating, it's gonna get cold."

The knock came again, heavier, more intense, and you frowned. "Coming!" you called, and you wound your way through the house to the front door. Nobody ever used the front door of your house, always opting for the side door, and you couldn't imagine who was rapping on your door at this time of night. A third knock came, firmer than before, threatening to do the poor door right in, and you flung it open with a quick "Can I help you?"

Your heart stopped, your throat dried up, your eyes wetted with tears. You could hardly believe it. Your Peter stood there, looking worse for wear, deep wrinkles in his forehead with a slight limp as he stepped forward. But it was him. "I—" Peter started, and you sobbed out, grabbing him and pulling him into you. His arms grabbed you tightly, holding you even closer to him than ever, ever before, and he held your head close to his heart as he whispered, "I wanted to say somethin' funny, but, Jesus, you look so beautiful. My girl."

"How—" you sobbed. "I thought you were—"

"I know," Peter whispered. His chest was warm against the cold night, and you nestled close into him. "I thought I was too. How much do you know?"

"Your plane was shot down," you whimpered. "I-I was told to assume the worst."

"Yeah," Peter said softly. "Plane went down... We were in enemy territory, and I fucked myself up pretty good, broke my leg in two different places. But I survived, managed to get myself to a French family that took care of me. My leg didn't heal right and I walk like this now, but—"

"But you're home," you whispered. "You came home to me."

Peter angled your head up to look at him, deep in his dark brown eyes, and you finally pressed forward and kissed him. He tasted just the same as all those years ago, back before everything awful that could have happened did. But Peter was home.

"I promised you that I'd marry you," Peter said into your mouth, and he gripped you tightly. "And I'm gonna do it, doll."

[scarlet-it-was]

folklore for evermore: the ruby x christina edition

combining two of my favorite things: taylor swift and fandom. here are the lyrics and headcanons that are giving me life from the summer/autumn sister albums; reylo & msr editions to follow

cardigan

you drew scars around my stars

but now i’m bleeding

but i knew you

stepping on the last train

marked me like a bloodstain

i knew you

tried to change the ending

peter losing wendy

...you put me on and said I was your favorite

I’d be remiss not to include this as the first in the list considering I’m writing a fic and using specific lyrics as the fic name and chapter titles. If you’re interested, you can find it here: You Drew Stars Around My Scars

my tears ricochet

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves

You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

You turned into your worst fears

When I think of the...distinctly disappointing end of the series, these last lines come to mind. Even though I don’t really believe that Christina killed Ruby—but if she had, she definitely turned into her worst fears, which was ultimately being as much of a failure as her father.

this is me trying

I've been having a hard time adjusting

I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting

I didn't know if you'd care if I came back

I have a lot of regrets about that

Pulled the car off the road to the lookout

Could've followed my fears all the way down

And maybe I don't quite know what to say

But I'm here in your doorway

Headcanon: Christina has been resurrected in some fashion, perhaps by the Mark of Cain, or a secondary magic trap she set just in case things went to hell. This finds her regretting her choices, contemplating her next steps, if she even wants to take them, but ultimately, ends up finding Ruby.

And my words shoot to kill when I'm mad I have a lot of regrets about that I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere Fell behind all my classmates and I ended up here Pouring out my heart to a stranger But I didn't pour the whiskey

Headcanon (cont): Ruby proved time and time again in the show that she knows exactly how to cut right to the center of a person with her words, and I’m sure over the years, she’s said some regrettable things to her sister (not that they were undeserved). Ruby also put in the effort to take the classes and make herself as an attractive candidate as possible for her ‘dream job’ and when she finally is ready—she finds a thin, light-skinned Tamara has been hired. And the rest of the story in the little bar scene—she and William didn’t stay strangers for long.

mad woman

And there's nothing like a mad woman

What a shame she went mad

No one likes a mad woman

You made her like that

And you'll poke that bear 'til her claws come out

And you find something to wrap your ***** around

And there's nothing like a mad woman

Really applicable to both parties who were both oppressed by patriarchy (both) and whiteness (Ruby). I censored one of the words because I’m not comfortable using that word in reference to a POC, but the Swifties know what it is. Anyway, you end up with two women who are willing to ‘go the distance’ so to speak to get what they want and not be interrupted because of the bodies and skin they were born in.

peace

But I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm

If your cascade, ocean wave blues come

All these people think love's for show

But I would die for you in secret

The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

Headcanon: In spite of her money and magic, there’s a certain amount of peace that she’ll never be able to give Ruby in part because she can’t (and doesn’t want, nor does Ruby want) for her to take away her blackness. The flip side is that Christina’s ambition will likely always put them in harm’s way to an extent. But at the end of the day, in spite of Leti’s accusations that Ruby is being used, Christina is the only one who is up front with her 100% of the time regardless of how it comes out. She always comes through for Ruby.

Hoax

My best laid plan

Your sleight of hand

My barren land

I am ash from your fire

Stood on the cliffside screaming, "Give me a reason"

Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in

Headcanon: a sadder and more cynical take on if Ruby had betrayed Christina in the finale (which I still don’t think she would have, but it wasn’t my show and I didn’t write that ending) which did in fact wreck her best laid plans with Ruby’s bait and switch of seducing Christina in her natural body instead of William’s—leaving Christina dead at the end of the series.

willow

Life was a willow, and it bent right to your wind

They count me out time and time again

Life was a willow, and it bent right to your wind

But I come back stronger than a '90s trend

Including this lyrics specifically because it reminds me of one of my favorite AU fics, Leave It To The Davenports – if you haven’t checked out this WIP, it is a ride you don’t want to miss.

gold rush

Gleaming, twinkling

Eyes like sinking ships on waters

So inviting, I almost jump in

I don't like a gold rush, gold rush

I don't like anticipatin' my face in a red flush

Walk past, quick brush

I don't like slow motion, double vision in rose blush

I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush

Everybody wants you

But I don't like a gold rush

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

With your hair falling into place like dominoes

I see me padding across your wooden floors

With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from the door

At dinner parties, I call you out on your contrarian shit

Headcanon: The last line specifically reminds me of Ruby snarking at Christina about being late and in return being called demanding. But also, overall, it captures the feeling of Ruby initially being distrustful of William’s affections towards her specifically when there are any number of women he could be with.

no body no crime

Headcanon: The whole damn song is my murder wives anthem.

happiness

Past the blood and bruise Past the curses and cries Beyond the terror in the nightfall Haunted by the look in my eyes That would've loved you for a lifetime Leave it all behind And there is happiness

I can't make it go away by making you a villain

I guess it's the price I paid And I pulled your body into mine Every goddamn night

There'll be happiness after you

But there was happiness because of you Both of these things can be true There is happiness

In our history, across our great divide

There is a glorious sunrise

Dappled with the flickers of light

Headcanon: Misleading song title in a way. This is what I’m dealing with in chapter 3 of my fic in the wake of Christina’s death and the process of Ruby moving on and finding happiness on her own. The writers Lovecraft Country tried really hard to make Christina a hateable villain, and I suppose through the lens of straight up hating white people, they may have done that for some viewers. They failed to give her any real Big Bad qualities though outside of manipulation and apathy—which while those aren’t shining character traits for her, it doesn’t make her the best (worst?) option for being the overarching antagonist. We had villains literally chopping people up and sewing them together, but Christina was the bad guy? Nah, I think not

long story short

Fatefully

I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me

Misery

Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep

And you passed right by

I was in the alley, surrounded on all sides

The knife cuts both ways

If the shoe fits, walk in it 'til your high heels break And I fell from the pedestal

Right down the rabbit hole

Long story short, it was a bad time

Pushed from the precipice

No more keepin' score

Now I just keep you warm 

No more tug of war

Now I just know there's more 

And my waves meet your shore

Ever and evermore When I dropped my sword

I threw it in the bushes and knocked on your door

And we live in peace

But if someone comes at us, this time, I'm ready Long story short, I survived

Headcanon: based on the idea that Christina survives, but does in fact have her magic stripped from her and is reflecting on the time period and going forward how she will protect her and Ruby’s relationship going forward by critics (like Leti) who would make Ruby choose between them.

Evermore

Hey December

Guess I'm feeling unmoored

Can't remember

What I used to fight for

I rewind thе tape but all it does is pause

On thе very moment, all was lost

Sending signals

To be double-crossed

And I was catching my breath

Barefoot in the wildest winter

Catching my death

And I couldn't be sure

I had a feeling so peculiar

That this pain would be for

Evermore

And when I was shipwrecked (Can't think of all the cost)

I thought of you (All the things that will be lost now)

In the cracks of light (Can we just get a pause?)

I dreamed of you (To be certain we'll be tall again, if you think of all the costs)

It was real enough (Whether weather be the frost)

To get me through (Or the violence of the dog days) (Or the violence of the dog days)

(Out on waves, being tossed)

(I'm on waves, out being tossed)

I swear (Is there a line that we can just go cross?)

You were there

And I was catching my breath

Floors of a cabin creaking under my step

And I couldn't be sure

I had a feeling so peculiar

This pain wouldn't be for

Evermore

Headcanon: Specific to You Drew Stars Around My Scars and Ruby’s grief in the early chapters and how she feels that the grief is impossible to move past when she thinks back about the months that the two of them spent getting to know each other as friends and lovers. She uses magic to connect with Christina even when she’s not there.